Friends of Adin Ballou
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1818-1821 Increased Responsibilities With the opening of the sixteenth year of my life, I entered on a period of increased personal responsibility. My oldest surviving brother, Alfred, was absent from home most of the time for the next two years, partly at school and partly in a factory counting-room, and I became my father’s chief deputy in the management of the farm and collateral interests. Indeed, he signified his desire and purpose to settle me on the ancestral estate as his successor and the stay of his old age, and I began to shape my expectations accordingly. When winter came around work took precedence of schooling, causing it to be postponed to another year. It was hoped I might then be compensated for the loss of my ordinary privileges in our own district by securing more advantageous ones elsewhere, and this proved to be the case. As to my religious state, I recovered from what I regarded my backsliding in the course of a few months, abandoned ordinary social gatherings and places of worldly amusement, and devoted my leisure hours largely to religious exercises and duties. I studied my Bible and books of devotion intently, prayed much in secret, had my seasons of fasting and self-examination, paid close attention to divine worship and subsidiary meetings, became clerk of our church, and gradually took on a phase of decided asceticism. I cultivated as stern a zeal for piety and righteousness as my nature was capable of and subjected myself to a stricter self-discipline than at any other time of my life.
Meanwhile my theology assumed a definite and positive form, its essential features being such, substantially, as prevailed in the Christian Connexion, whose leaders, though constantly denouncing creeds, had one, as a matter of fact, of pretty sharp points distributed through their preachings and published writings. I have generally found this to be the case with nominal anti-creedists, even down to nothingarians. By study and reflection, I had formulated the following items of doctrine in which I most firmly believed:
The controversy between the Trinitarians and Unitarians in this country was inaugurated about this time, and the "Christians" took sides against the former, though they clung to a sort of high Arianism and rather stiffly repudiated those forms of Unitarianism which questioned the personal pre-existence of Christ. I embraced this view of the subject and thought myself strongly entrenched therein behind the word of God. Another grand question then in dispute was that relating to the final destiny of the wicked. Elders Elias Smith, Abner Jones, and other influential leaders in our order had come out against endless punishment and in favor of absolute, final destruction or annihilation of the doomed impenitent. This obliged them to deny the innate immortality of the soul, and contend that no one could ever be rendered immortal except by the special will and gift of God. These doctrines I readily embraced and made myself an expert in their scriptural defense. They and kindred topics furnished my ever active mind ample themes of inquiry and speculation in the department of theology. The Restorationists, as they termed themselves, of earlier times were only slightly known to me by general report, and it was a foregone conclusion that their distinctive doctrine could have no possible foundation in divine revelation. The Universalists, many of whom had rejected, as baseless, all belief in future punishment, were beginning to prevail in certain localities, and through their preachers and published expositions to make their influence felt in many places where they had no organized foothold. This was the case in our vicinity. We had several neighbors who professed to believe in the final salvation of all men, and ministers of that faith occasionally visited them, such visits growing at length frequent and conspicuous. But I regarded all persons of that way of thinking as anti-religious in spirit, anti-Christian in doctrine, and practically no better than Deists. And I think, even now, that many of them gave me too much reason for regarding them as I did, though my prejudices made me unjust to them in a greater or less degree. The Universalists of later times and especially of this day exhibit very great religious improvement, both in theory and practice, on their predecessors of that period. Elder Crossman, the chief promoter of the great "Reformation," had now lost prestige and standing in the church and was fast receding from the ministry. He at one time professed Universalism, then recanted, then vacillated for awhile between different forms of faith - finally falling into some irregularities which terminated eventually his labors as a religious teacher. Later in life became a book-peddler. Elder Elias Smith, who had been regarded as one of the two chief apostles of the Christian Connexion, went over to the Universalists, in whose fellowship, after some vibrations to and fro, he finally died. During his last years upon earth he devoted himself to the practice of medicine according to the Thomsonian system of therapeutics, which he claimed to have essentially improved. These and other unexpected developments rather shook the structure of the "Christian" denomination, but by no means destroyed it. The disturbed elements resumed their equilibrium and other leaders, older and younger, arose and moved forward in the van of the host. Little did I dream when the defections referred to took place that I should ever find sufficient reason for changing my general theological ground as related to the doctrines involved. Of some of the new preachers who came forward to fill the vacancies that had been made in our "Christian" ministry, I will make brief mention. There was Reuben Potter Jr., a native of Coventry, Rhode Island, who first visited us as a youthful exhorter before the revival had subsided. He afterwards prepared himself for the ministry and at length became our pastor, leaving us finally for other fields of service. He was a scholarly, pleasant, fluent preacher, popular for a time and much esteemed. But he was not profound and did not excel in intellect, piety, or weight of character. After a gradual moral decadence of some years, he acquired intemperate habits, becoming at last a confirmed sot. He came to a sad end, being found dead in the street of a village not far from the place of his nativity. Elder Dexter Bullard was the next in order of our pastors, receiving ordination at Cumberland Hill. He was not a brilliant preacher, but a man of sound common sense, intelligence, candor, Christian principle, and moral integrity, sincere and faithful in all things. He married a respected cousin of mine, Juliana Sayles, had quite a numerous family of worthy children, most of whom settled in the West, whither himself and wife removed many years since, and where he died in 1865. Among numerous itinerant preachers of our order and one of the ablest and best of them, was Elder Benjamin Taylor of Swansea, Massachusetts. He did not appear in our vicinity often, but was always welcome and his services were every way acceptable. He was not only a man of good natural abilities, but an upright, conscientious, exemplary Christian, combining zeal with knowledge and uncompromising fidelity to principle with a broad, deep charity. He was a John among our preachers, always entreating us to "love one another." Elder Mark Fernald of Kittery, Maine was also a visiting preacher of creditable ability and reputation, but somewhat ascetic in his habits - a stern, blunt man, severe at times in speech, but possessing a kind heart and making himself useful in his sphere. The celebrated and eccentric Lorenzo Dow, who belonged to no sect, but was a sort of Methodist comet in the ecclesiastical heavens, visited us occasionally during the two years of which I am now writing. I first saw him in Providence. His fame was widespread, and I had read with much interest his published autobiography. Learning that he was to be in an adjoining town, some of our people were anxious to see and hear him, myself being one of the number. I went to the house of a Methodist brother where he was stopping, but it was so thronged with callers that I barely got a glimpse of him. My only recollections of him are that he wore his hair and beard long (then an astonishing sight); that he was a lean, spare, dark-complexioned man; that his dress and general appearance were plain and simple, as of a pilgrim devotee; and that when he started for the chapel where he was to preach he could not find his hat and so went out bareheaded, but was soon supplied with the missing article by his consumptive-looking, devoted wife, Peggy, who came running after him with it in her hand, and shouting in shrill, tender tones, "Lorenzo, Lorenzo, here is your hat," which he rather indifferently accepted. Of his discourse, characteristic of him, no doubt, I, though hearing it, remember nothing. After this he preached at different times in our neighborhood, stopping with us, and I became well acquainted with him, being charged with the duty of waiting upon him and of attending to his personal comfort, as occasion required. This I did with fidelity and discretion, carefully avoiding manifesting any surprise at his seeming eccentricities. He treated me not only with unaffected civility and kindness, but with confidential cordiality. It had been said that he was sometimes gruff and ungracious to those who served him, but I was led to believe that those complaining of such treatment provoked it by their ill-timed flattery and sycophantic fawning. He was a keen observer of human nature and scorned all affectation and obsequiousness. We had unequivocal manifestations of his eccentricity amounting almost to breach of propriety or incivility sometimes during his several visits with us. Some of these may be mentioned. While preaching one evening in our large, old-fashioned kitchen, in his peculiar, impassioned style, an officious, elderly spinster, then an inmate of the family, disturbed him by repeatedly getting up and fussing with the fire - picking up the falling brands, replenishing the fuel, and otherwise setting things about it to rights. Seeing her start for the third or fourth time on the same errand, he left the thread of his discourse and broke out in an imperative tone, "Woman, sit down, and don’t be up trying to show off that new gown of yours any more." Spinster, in her fresh calico, subsided as if paralyzed and remained fixed in her chair till the meeting closed. At another time he was seated with our family in the parlor after meeting, the center of a large circle, my mother being on his left and a worthy woman who was then working for us on his right hand. During a little lull in the conversation, he sat musing for a moment and then suddenly broke out, saying to my mother, as he pointed to the woman, who was a stranger to him, "Who is this? Whom have you here?" My mother gave the woman’s name. "What is she good for?" he continued. "Many things," replied my mother. "She is a good, honest woman, a member of our church, a devoted Christian, kind and helpful in sickness, and always quietly industrious." "Perhaps, but how about her temper? If one should tread on her toes, wouldn’t she feel something fluttering up in here?" shaking his skeleton-like finger significantly over his breast as much as to say, "Hasn’t she a quick, irritable disposition?" This abrupt, queer incident took us all by surprise and shocked our demure servant well nigh into spasms. Meanwhile he looked the saint he was reputed to be. The next day I was to take him in a sleigh (for it was winter) first to Cumberland Hill, where he was to preach at 11 a.m., and thence in the afternoon to Providence. Some delay about starting occurred, although there was ample time to reach the place of meeting in season for the service, at which he exhibited considerable uneasiness. When we were well seated in our vehicle and moving off at good speed, he turned to me and with a very earnest but kindly look, said, "Young man, I have a lesson for you. You may become a public character, perhaps a preacher. My lesson is this: Always take elbow room. Do you understand me? I mean keep a little ahead of your appointments. Be on hand some minutes before the set time. Make no one wait for you. Never be in a hurry at the last moment. Then you will not only avoid occasion for others to complain, but be in a calm, self-collected frame of mind to proceed with your own duties. Do you understand the lesson?" "I do," said I; "it is a wise and wholesome one; I thank you for it; I will endeavor to lay it up and profit by it." "So do," he responded, thus ending his admonition. I have never violated his rule, "Always take elbow room," without perturbation, regret, and shame. Arriving at the little "Catholic Baptist Meetinghouse," so-called, in due season, the service was conducted in the usual form, the sermon being his exposition and application of the parable of the laborers in the vineyard, Matthew 20:1-16, laying the chief stress on the words, "They received every man a penny." After the meeting I went on with him to Providence, where we parted, never to meet again in this world. From what I saw and knew of him I judged him to be a faithful, conscientious, Christian minister, notwithstanding he was so singular and erratic in many of his ways. Though mainly occupied with manual labor on the farm and personal religious nurture and discipline, I kept myself posted in regard to public affairs and what was transpiring in the world at large, so far as the newspaper of the family and occasional conversation with well-informed townsmen could serve me in that direction. When the "Missouri Compromise" excitement prevailed, I recollect getting interested in it and being so patriotically devoted to the Union as to defend our Rhode Island congressman, who was severely denounced for voting in its favor. Without a particle of pro-slavery either in my nature or habits, I was at that time so utterly ignorant of the "peculiar institution" and its fatal evil tendencies, and so carried away with the cunningly-raised bugbear, "The Union in danger," that I readily took the wrong side from good motives - as many of my grave seniors then and afterwards did. During this same period a cousin of mine, Otis Mason, some ten or fifteen years older than myself, taught what was called the "Academy" at Cumberland Hill. With him I fell into some intimacy and occasionally visited his school. At his solicitation I was induced to join a debating club connected with the institution, in which I a few times mustered courage enough to speak. There was a library in the same connection from which I took books to read at my convenience. By these means I made partial amends for the lack of regular educational advantages and gained some valuable intellectual culture which otherwise I should have missed. Near the close of the year 1819, after the farming operations were for the most part suspended for the season, it was arranged that I should go to school ten weeks during the coming winter in the neighboring town of Franklin, Massachusetts. The school was nothing but a rural district one, but it was to be in charge of one Caleb Ward Wilson of Mendon in the same state, a talented and successful teacher at that day, and was to have among its pupils some twenty or more young men and women who had attended sundry higher seminaries of learning under celebrated classical preceptors. So that the opportunity was an especially favorable one for me, much better than I had ever before enjoyed. I was to board in the family of my uncle, Daniel Sayles, a resident of the town, whose wife was a sister of my father. His oldest unmarried daughter, Avilda, had been an accomplished teacher, and his youngest daughter, Juliana, about twenty years of age, was an excellent scholar; while his sons, Orin and Ariel, about my own age, who had shared some superior educational advantages, were to be my fellow students. These circumstances rendered the opening additionally desirable and promising. When I entered the crowded schoolhouse at the beginning of the term, I felt not only rusty in scholarship but a little awkward from the consciousness of being surrounded by proud-spirited associates who could not easily suppress their prejudices against a green Rhode Islander. It was therefore prudent for me to he modest - at least, not to expose my ignorance presumptuously or unnecessarily. Our teacher was really a superior one and handled his school in a manner worthy of his great reputation. In dealing with his large upper class, which made an imposing array upon the high seats, right and left, he treated them with marked respect, in consideration of their age and attainments, not only allowing but urging them to have opinions of their own, and to differ from him if their judgment so dictated, as well as from each other on all critical points, especially those of grammatical construction and analysis. Issue might be taken upon any question at any time and the parties involved might give reasons for their opinion, each one arguing in proper order according to his best judgment and ability. There were several in the class who deemed themselves well advanced in scholarship and capable of criticism, and there were some exciting discussions both among the pupils and between pupils and teacher. If he happened to make a mistake, which rarely occurred, he was manly enough not only to hear himself foiled in argument without wounded pride, but to yield the point with open-hearted frankness and promptitude. For my part, I listened with thoughtful attention to all that was said and done for five or six weeks, but did not venture a word of my own, waiting to have my scholastic rustiness well scoured off and learn how bright and keen my fellow pupils were before measuring lances with them. At length, finding that they were not altogether infallible, and thinking I was not wholly incompetent to cope with them in any case where our opinions might not concur, I cautiously submitted, now and then, some criticism of their conclusions. My bashfulness made this a severe trial to me - all the more so when I saw that I was regarded as one aspiring to a rank above my merits and antecedents. This, however, in the end proved to be an advantage to me, for it awakened in me a sense of self-respect and a determination not to be cowered into tame servility to those in no wise my betters. So on one occasion I took the liberty of questioning the correctness of a certain analysis and the appropriateness of the rule given for it. My comrades stared with contemptuous scorn at what they assumed to be my presumption, and the teacher decided off-hand against me. "But stop," he said in his usual courteous way, "we must hear the reasons for objecting to the view presented." And turning to me, continued, "How, sir, do you make out your case?" My face crimsoned with timid blood and my heart leaped into my throat, but truth and pride put me through the struggle. I stated my position so clearly and gave my reasons so conclusively that the teacher was himself convinced and immediately responded, "He is right after all, and I am wrong." This "put the boot upon the other foot," as the saying is, and my learned sneerers looked as crestfallen as if I had robbed them of their fancied preeminence by magic. Such experiences, when looked back upon from the far-off summit of advanced age, seem of little consequence if superficially regarded, yet they were in fact of great account to the novices immediately concerned - means of discipline, of progress and lasting enjoyment. They, too, are texts in the volume of human nature on which we can profitably moralize. They remind us that no one ever rises above the level of his supposed-to-be proper sphere without a struggle. His progress is obstructed and resisted by adverse surroundings, by jeering contemporaries, or envious rivals, and he must fight and conquer or be ignominiously overcome. Even those who from natural relationship or friendly consideration ought to cheer on the struggling aspirant, often frown contemptuously on his efforts and dissuade him from pressing forward in the line of his nobler purposes and aspirations. As Eliab said to David in the Bible story of Goliath, "Why comest thou down hither, and with whom hast thou left the few sheep in the wilderness? I know thy pride and the naughtiness of thy heart. For thou hast come that thou mightest see the battle." The undaunted youth only answered, "What have I now done? Is there not a cause?" And he went on in his chosen way - went to conflict and to victory. Having gained my point and a reputable standing in the school and wishing to avoid all unpleasant rivalry or whatever would occupy an undue proportion of my time and energy, I betook myself to those studies necessary to a well-rounded development in which I was particularly deficient, and where there was little or no emulation. I had always the best understanding with this teacher, and profited greatly by his instruction. His school proved to be my college of graduation. I did not "finish" my education there, as some seem to do in regularly organized institutions of learning, but I never again was a student in any strictly educational establishment of any kind or name. The same winter developed other interesting occurrences beside those connected with my school, some of which resulted in experiences of signal importance. It so happened that a mutual intimacy between Elder Dexter Bullard and my cousin, Juliana Sayles, in whose father’s family I was boarding, had ripened into a matrimonial engagement which was to be consummated by marriage before the school term expired. Preliminary to the legal solemnization of the union, there must be the usual publishment of the intentions of the parties on the part of the town clerk, either by "crying" the same in religious meeting on two successive Sabbaths, or by "posting" for two weeks in some place of public concourse. It was quite a desideratum with those immediately concerned to have this done as noiselessly as possible and to make it, since it must be known in due time, a surprise to outsiders, even to the family relatives. I was a special confidant in the matter, and to me was entrusted the necessary mission to the public official authorized to act in such cases, with the special charge to execute it with the utmost secrecy. I was entirely ignorant of the details of such transactions, and undertook the task assigned only for friendship’s sake and with great reluctance. Having accepted the trust, I was confronted with the double problem of how to fulfill it and how to do this with the desired secrecy. I must not take any of my school hours nor absent myself from my meals, nor engage a horse with which to ride to the residence of the town clerk, which was three miles away, since either of these would excite suspicion and lead to a discovery of the whole plot. So after supper one evening I slipped quietly out of the house and by an unfamiliar, unfrequented road reached, after much difficulty, the place I was seeking. Unfortunately, the clerk was not at home, being engaged in teaching some distance away and not returning except on Saturday evening for the Sabbath. Not knowing that I could accomplish the object of my visit by leaving the proper details with his wife, to be attended to when he was advised concerning them, I retraced my steps to my uncle’s, weary and disappointed, to report my ill luck and to be told, to my great mortification, how easily all further trouble could have been obviated by the means just indicated. I had not been missed or inquired for, and under a deep sense of humiliation, I resolved to try again on the ensuing Saturday evening, confident that I should then be able to make everything sure. I governed myself accordingly. But the gentleman I wanted to see had not arrived when I reached my destination. Nor did he come after long waiting till time and distance admonished me that I must be on my way to my boarding-place again. So I left my errand in writing with his wife, but by further blundering failed to mention the proper residence of the groom. This, however, I did not find out until I reached my uncle’s and reported progress. The omission was a greater mortification to me than my former misadventure, and I was as vexed with myself as I was tired, but, as there was no time to be lost, I determined, weary though I was, to go over the ground again immediately and finish my ill-starred performance before the dawning of another day. So I actually trudged those six miles (out and in) once more, awoke the now returned and sleeping official, gave him the lacking data, got back home again unsuspected, in season to have a short nap before morning, judging myself amply qualified by experience to act as agent for a couple wishing to have their intentions of marriage published according to law. I never had occasion, however, to undertake another commission of this sort, but was paid for executing this one in the consciousness of having served my beloved employers satisfactorily and in the lesson it taught me of understanding my errands before trying to deliver them. Much of my wisdom I have purchased in the same costly way as my readers will not fail to see while tracing my subsequent history. Something of greater consequence to me came from this event. As arrangements for the approaching wedding were making, it was decided that I should be groomsman, and, after considerable canvassing of the claims and qualifications of several of the fair cousins of the bride on her father’s side, of which I was more or less cognizant, that Abby, daughter of Smith Sayles of Smithfield, Rhode Island, should be bridesmaid. Though she was a comparative stranger to me, I readily acceded to the wishes of my friends in this respect as in others where I could serve them. The marriage was solemnized as provided for, February 1, 1820, and the foundation was laid for a long, useful, and happy union, under mortal conditions and in the order of the family, of two worthy, congenial, Christian souls. One occasion of this sort often leads to another of a similar character. Very likely the arrangement concerning groomsman and bridesmaid in this case was entered into with some ulterior design respecting the parties brought together which did not appear to the casual observer, and which was not communicated to those more particularly concerned. Whether this were so or not, the acquaintance then formed between Abby Sayles and myself was by mutual agreement continued through occasional correspondence and personal interviews until it ripened, not many months afterward, into a definite hymeneal engagement, to be carried into effect at a then undetermined date of the future. So much was done in anticipation of marriage soon after I had entered upon the eighteenth year of my age. To the wise and prudent reader this early pledge of marital purposes and fidelities on my part may be deemed boyish and absurd, bespeaking my folly and want of sound judgment. Perhaps so. I cannot blame those who pronounce such a verdict upon me, but rather confess that, from my present standpoint of rationality, I was unfit to take such a step - unqualified to assume the contemplated responsibility. But I had no one to admonish or restrain me and was not wise enough to see, much less realize, my deficiencies. It had already been planned that I should settle down with my parents on the farm, see them through life, and inherit their domain. On that score I was favorably situated as to then present conditions and future prospects. What better could I do than take to myself a wife! As to my affianced, I satisfied myself that she was every way worthy of my confidence and love. She was three years my senior, which, however objectionable in some regards, was really an advantage to me, her experience and more mature understanding acting as a counterpoise to my inexperience and unripeness. She was well qualified for the proposed relationship in all matters pertaining to domestic economy. She had been well trained to all womanly acquirements in a good home under wise parental influence, having a mother whose excellencies of character I shall never cease to love and revere. Her educational accomplishments, though comparatively small, were respectable for her rank and times. She was not a professor of religion, but eminently conscientious, virtuous, and exemplary. She was a woman of good sense, of sterling principles, and, above all, of an amiable disposition and an affectionate heart. The only serious drawback was her delicate health, which foredoomed our union to an early dissolution, as the sequel will show. That union, while it lasted, was a most cordial, harmonious, and happy one, and I trust it was best under the circumstances for both parties to it. And so, while I do not recommend my example to youths of my age and immaturity, I yet do congratulate any, young or old, who are fortunate enough to have entered a marriage relationship as well-matched, as rich in experience, as full of enjoyment, as abundantly blessed, as the one under notice. Passing my next birthday, I settled down to the various duties of my position as manager and prospective owner of the paternal homestead, where I confidently expected to spend my days. During the year upon which I had now entered, one incident occurred which was especially trying to me at the time, being, as it was, my first business venture outside of the calling to which I had been trained from my early years. It was, under the circumstances, an unfortunate and discouraging affair, but it reminded me that it was not wise for me to assume responsibilities for which I had no qualification, either by native aptitude or acquired skill. My father had a tenant in a small dwelling house on his premises who manufactured on a limited scale what were called cotton-plush waterproof gentlemen’s hats. He suggested to me the idea of becoming at certain leisure seasons of the year a traveling salesman of his goods about the adjacent country, and made me believe that I could make handsome profits on them. In my condition this was desirable, and I eagerly caught at a proposition which promised to fatten my inconveniently lean purse. I therefore closed a bargain with him for a goodly stock of hats, procured an outfit of a suitable team, and made preparations for starting on an expedition for which, the more I thought of it and the nearer I came to it, the stronger was my conviction that I was in no wise capacitated. While meditating on what I had undertaken and apprehending probable failure, the particular kind of hat which I had to dispose of was superseded by a better one and became almost entirely unsalable at any price. So my ambitious plans in that direction proved an utter failure and my lean purse grew leaner instead of more plethoric thereby. With this narration I close the record of the eighteenth year of my life. |