"It is very possible that some, who have a strong desire that nothing should be done which should tend, in the least, to endanger the harmony and cordial fellowship of Universalists, may think that prudence would, at least, plead for a delay, and suggest the propriety of deferring this publication to some future time, when it might give less offence. Such may be assured that their good wishes for the harmony and fellowship of our order are duly respected; but they cannot be ignorant of the fact that the doctrine of a future state of punishment has been disbelieved, by ministering brethren of our order, for many years, and that much has been published with a view to disprove that doctrine; and, moreover, that now that doctrine is generally disbelieved by Universalists of our connection; and yet much harmony prevails, and our fellowship remains, and is warmly cherished between brethren whose opinions disagree on the subject of this doctrine.The writer would further remark, that both age and infirmity admonish him that what he feels it his duty to do, he ought not to delay; and he cannot believe that any of his brethren can feel, in the least, wounded because their aged brother should finish his labors in accordance with the dictates of his own understanding. It is a happy circumstance, that in the denomination of Universalists, no one feels bound to defend and support the particular opinions of another, any further than he is himself convinced of their truth and importance. Our platform of faith is general, and allows individuals an extensive latitude to think freely, investigate minutely, and to adopt what particular views best comport with the honest convictions of the mind, and fearlessly to avow and defend the same."
In perusing this book, or indeed any of Mr. Ballou's numerous works, the reader cannot fail to be struck with the complete simplicity and purity of the author's style, at the same time being deeply impressed with the magnitude of the subject treated upon: he finds the book to be more like a familiar friend with whom he is conversing, than the deep logical work it really is. This is caused by the peculiar clearness and force of the style, while all is so conceived and put down as to be within scope of the humblest understanding. All his comparisons and illustrations are drawn from the most familiar objects about us, bringing our every-day life and experience to bear upon the theme; and thus his arguments were doubly forcible and plain. It was the common remark that littlechildren could understand his sermons, and remember the moral inculcated. "If I can only make my subject so plain that children will understand me," he once said in relation to this subject, "my purpose will be gained, and I shall not be preaching in vain." Probably there never was a public speaker who possessed more fully the power of making himself perfectly and clearly understood, in every bearing of his subject, than did Mr. Ballou. This was commonly remarked of him by all, and more especially by those in his own profession of the ministry, who had learned by experience what a difficult matter it sometimes is to impress an audience with the precise idea intended by the speaker.
About this date, in Mr. Ballou's manuscript memoranda he says:—"I well remember a conversation I had with a learned doctor of divinity of this city, some years ago. It happened that we were both going into the country, and took the same stage. We had not travelled far before the doctor very politely addressed me, expressing a desire to know my opinion on a certain passage of Scripture, as he did not know how it was explained by those of my opinion in religious matters. The stage being quite full of gentlemen who were strangers to me, but to whom I was doubtless well known, I was somewhat surprised that the learned divine should introduce a scriptural subject, and especially one concerning which he supposed we entertained different views. However, I was well satisfied that he expected to see me embarrassed in presence of thepassengers, whose curiosity was evidently excited. I replied that I was not unwilling, on any proper occasion, to give my views on any passage of Scripture when desired to do so, provided I was satisfied in my own mind concerning its true meaning.
"There was the most profound attention evinced, and the doctor introduced Gal. 6: 7 and 8. 'Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he reap. For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the spirit shall of the spirit reap life everlasting:' the passage being one with which many occasions had made me quite familiar. I replied immediately, as follows: 'I presume, sir, you will understand all you wish to know of my views of this text, if you hear me repeat it, and duly observe where I lay especial emphasis;—Be not deceived: God is not mocked; for whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to hisfleshshall of thefleshreap corruption; but he that soweth to the spirit shall of the spirit reap life everlasting.' The moment I pronounced the words of the text thus, there was a smile on the countenances of all in the stage, and a movement which signified satisfaction. I merely remarked, in conclusion, that no man who should sow in one field, would think of going to another to reap. The doctor made me no reply, nor did he ask any more questions.
"The above is but a sample," continues Mr. Ballou,"of the unnumbered cases in which I have seen how utterly abortive is a liberal education, with the addition of a theological school, in freeing the human mind from religious errors. So far from effecting any such desirable end, these so highly esteemed advantages generally serve to puff up the mind and heart with pride, and close every avenue through which light might be received."
The engrossing habits of a student, and the employment of a large portion of his time in writing, brought upon Mr. Ballou the weakness in his left side, before referred to, and which was still more augmented by his continued use of the pen. This trouble became at last a seated and irreparable one, and a source of much bodily suffering to him until the close of his life, though serious attacks of it were but transient, and usually lasting but a few hours at a time. This affection was of rather a peculiar character, so that when anything occurred, of an unpleasant nature, to trouble or distress his mind,—bad news of any sort, the sudden death of a relative or friend, or any matter of this character,—it would seem to affect the weak side, and there distress him.
Mr. Ballou was often solicited, by letters from a distance, for his autograph, with which he complied in a brief line, most generally; but personal applications for this object were very frequent during his journeyings from home. Being asked for his autograph by a young lady in one of the neighboring towns, who handed him her album for the purpose, he sat down and wrote thefollowing verses impromptu, and which have been handed to us for insertion here. They will serve to show his ready power of versification; he never studied to be a poet, nor everlaboredupon a piece of poetical composition. He found little time to plant and rear flowers along his pathway of life. At an early period the soil he tilled was of too bold and rugged a character to cultivate aught save the sterling literal seeds of truth, the sweetness of whose blossoms is fragrance to the soul. If subsequently he sometimes plucked a lily or watered a rose-bud, it has been at breathing-spells between the holding of the plough and the planting of seed in his Master's vineyard. He lacked not for refinement and delicacy of taste, or for the natural promptings of the poet, but there was more important business for him to perform, and he realized too fully his responsibility to allow himself to forget for a moment the great aim and business of his mission. The poem referred to above is entitled
THE MYRTLE."Come, take the wreath I've twined for thee,'Tis wet with morning dew;And lessons rare of love and truthThese flowers shall bring to you.The half-blown rose, whose spotless leavesSpeak of thy hopes as fair,And spicy balm, with healing breath,Are mingling odors there.The sweet geranium so greenA fragrance doth impart,True as the gentle breath of love,That fills the youthful heart.But most of all I'd have thee markThe modest myrtle bough;It speaks of love that e'er will beAs pure and bright as now.For though the rose may fade and die,The balm may cease to cure,Through summer's light and winter's shadeTheMyrtlewill endure.Then take the wreath I've twined for thee,'Tis wet with morning dew;And many a lesson true of loveThese flowers shall bring to you."
THE MYRTLE.
"Come, take the wreath I've twined for thee,'Tis wet with morning dew;And lessons rare of love and truthThese flowers shall bring to you.
The half-blown rose, whose spotless leavesSpeak of thy hopes as fair,And spicy balm, with healing breath,Are mingling odors there.
The sweet geranium so greenA fragrance doth impart,True as the gentle breath of love,That fills the youthful heart.
But most of all I'd have thee markThe modest myrtle bough;It speaks of love that e'er will beAs pure and bright as now.
For though the rose may fade and die,The balm may cease to cure,Through summer's light and winter's shadeTheMyrtlewill endure.
Then take the wreath I've twined for thee,'Tis wet with morning dew;And many a lesson true of loveThese flowers shall bring to you."
We find a letter among our papers, written about the period of which we now speak. It is from his pen, and bears date New York, April 21st, 1839, on the occasion of a brief visit to that city, and was addressed to the author of these pages.
"Maturin: A kind Providence brought me to this city early yesterday morning. I had a very pleasant passage hither, and the good company and kind attention of Capt. Parker. I am at the Walton House, which was Washington's head quarters during the Revolutionary war. It is now between nine and ten o'clock, Sabbath morning. My health is good as when I left home. My friends expect me to preach three sermons this day and evening. Whether I shall returnon Monday to Boston, or remain another week here, I have not now the means of determining. I pray God to preserve the health of the family, and return me soon to enjoy that circle from which it is painful to be absent, though I have every attention and necessary accommodation for my comfort. Take good care of your health, and tell your mother that I shall endeavor to be careful of mine."Affectionately,"Hosea Ballou.""M. M. Ballou."
"Maturin: A kind Providence brought me to this city early yesterday morning. I had a very pleasant passage hither, and the good company and kind attention of Capt. Parker. I am at the Walton House, which was Washington's head quarters during the Revolutionary war. It is now between nine and ten o'clock, Sabbath morning. My health is good as when I left home. My friends expect me to preach three sermons this day and evening. Whether I shall returnon Monday to Boston, or remain another week here, I have not now the means of determining. I pray God to preserve the health of the family, and return me soon to enjoy that circle from which it is painful to be absent, though I have every attention and necessary accommodation for my comfort. Take good care of your health, and tell your mother that I shall endeavor to be careful of mine.
"Affectionately,"Hosea Ballou."
"M. M. Ballou."
This, and a private letter previously given in these pages, are not made public for any particular information they communicate, but simply to show the reader the feelings of the writer as expressed between himself and those whom he loved and in whom he confided. These letters might be greatly multiplied, but this would perhaps serve our object no better purpose. If a hundred were to be submitted to the reader, they would convey no other spirit than is evinced by the two already given. Mr. Ballou's private correspondence was never very extensive; his letters were nearly all of a domestic nature, or brief notes relating to exchanges with other brethren at a distance. The reason that his letters were so much of this nature, was, that when he transcribed his thoughts to paper it was for the press. Most men of strong and active minds are in the practice of relieving them, as it were, by writing down their thoughts, from time to time, to valued friends; it is a sort of necessary relief thatsome minds could not get along without. But Mr. Ballou's writings were so universally made public, and he was so constantly supplying the public press with matter, even to the very last week of his life, that his mind and pen were quite sufficiently worked in this vein, without seeking any other channel.
During the fall of 1843, Mr. Ballou, then at the age of seventy-two years, made a long journey to the West, to attend the national convention of Universalists, held at Akron, Ohio. On the route thither, in company with Rev. Thomas Whittemore and some other friends, he visited, for the first time, Niagara Falls. Mr. Whittemore, in writing home a description of their visit to his paper, the Trumpet, said:—"When we came to Table Rock, Father Ballou stood in amazement, and when we urged him to go back over the river before dark, 'Oh!' said he, 'how can I go away?' He said his thoughts were like those of Peter on one occasion: 'It is good to be here; let us build tabernacles, and dwell upon the spot.' A prism was handed to him, through which he could see the rapids in colors ineffably glorious. 'Oh! my soul! oh! glory to God!' were his exclamations."
No man had a more thorough appreciation of all that was grand and noble in nature, no one a keener eye for her myriads of charms that gladden our daily lives and illumine the pathway of life.
"We heard him, for the first time," says the editor of the American Phrenological Journal, "at a Universalist general convention, Akron, Ohio, in September, 1843,where he preached to a very large gathering, with the ablest men in the denomination preceding and following him. Many of them delivered more elaborate and carefully studied discourses, but there was no other who made the brown faces of the old farmers so fairlyshinewith admiration and delight as 'Father Ballou.' Many of them had heard him in New England thirty or forty years previous, and now, hearing that he was to attend the convention, had come thirty or forty miles to listen to him once again, and for the last time on earth. Though then past man's allotted period of 'threescore years and ten,' his distinctness of utterance, clearness of statement, aptness of illustration, and force of argument, might well have been taken as a model by a young preacher; and, though he spoke more than an hour, a very general regret was evident that he closed so soon. In person Mr. Ballou was tall and slight, with a bearing of unaffected meekness and humility."
In the summer of the succeeding year he made another visit to New York and Philadelphia, in accordance with the promise made some years before, to come as often and for as long a period as was convenient to him, and also in compliance with the earnest solicitations of the societies in both these cities at that time. As we have before remarked, he had formed many personal friends in both these cities, and it was, as we have heard him often declare, refreshing to his heart to meet them and enjoy their liberal and kind hospitality. He felt, too, an earnest solicitude for the spiritual welfare of those societies,before whom he had so often spoken with such satisfaction to himself and profit to them. During this journey southward, by the solicitations of the societies in Baltimore, Mr. Ballou extended his visit to that city, where he stopped for a short period, which time he improved by the delivery of sermons day and evening. On his return to Boston, he preached a sermon, we well remember, relative to the condition of the cause of Universalism, and was made glad at heart by the state in which he found it in these cities, and at being able to make such goodly report at home. It was like the husbandman going abroad in his master's vineyard, and counting the harvest of his lord, which he had himself planted.
The kind and hospitable treatment which Mr. Ballou always received, in the cities particularly of New York and Philadelphia, seems to have made a most indelible impression upon his heart. Often has he spoken of it in his family circle, until we have felt almost as though we had individually shared the delightful reunions which he described. True, it was thus wherever he visited, as it regarded making warm and lasting friends, but he has left memorandums that signify his remembrance more particularly of the societies of these cities. He says:—"In New York and Philadelphia, I have ever been made by the brethren to feel that I was athome; kind hearts and hands have ever greeted me in either place, and some of the happiest and most profitable moments of my life I think have been passed in ministering tothe beloved societies in these places. Had my Heavenly Father seen fit to render my services less happy and fortunate in their result in Boston, I should have found a happy home in either New York or Philadelphia. As it is, my frequent visits to both have afforded me undiminished satisfaction, and much social enjoyment. My sincere prayers are constantly offered for their happiness, well-being, and spiritual good." The great and moving cause of his exerting such an influence by his words and manners over the minds of people in his religious teachings, as well as his private intercourse, was the spirit of sincerity that imbued every motion, while the beauty and purity of his moral character seemed to sanctify every word and action, which emanated from him. With not the slightest stain upon his character from boyhood, he was such a being as people could afford to reverence, respect, and love.
Through the whole of his long and active career, Mr. Ballou never once turned aside from the one great object and purpose of his heart, that of promulgating God's fatherly and impartial love to all mankind, as evinced in the holy Scriptures and the dispensations of Providence.
In a poem, ending with the two following verses, he has himself expressed his devoted zeal better than we can do.
"Not all thy foes on earth can sayCan turn my heart from thee away;And yet my heart is free;These wounds and scars, that men despise,Are jewels precious in thine eyes,And this is all to me."Had I ten thousand years to live,Had I ten thousand lives to give,All these should be thine own;And that foul scorn thy foes bestowStill prove a laurel to my brow,And their contempt a throne."
"Not all thy foes on earth can sayCan turn my heart from thee away;And yet my heart is free;These wounds and scars, that men despise,Are jewels precious in thine eyes,And this is all to me.
"Had I ten thousand years to live,Had I ten thousand lives to give,All these should be thine own;And that foul scorn thy foes bestowStill prove a laurel to my brow,And their contempt a throne."
In this service he never wrote or uttered a single sentence that was not peculiar to himself for its plainness of purpose, yet depth of thought, and for strong logical reasoning to this grand end. He possessed for his purpose a large share of ready, manly eloquence, not nervous and startling, but cool and convincing; and this, coupled with a natural quickness in discovering the strength or weakness of an argument, ever insured him victory in religious controversy. No sarcasm, no reflection, no imputation could throw him off his guard for one moment. He was ever unruffled, yet forcible, evincing the spirit of the doctrine which he advocated at all times. It was perfectly impossible to so excite him in controversy as to lead him to say the least ungentlemanly, or even abrupt thing. He stood for years as a target for the poisoned arrows of malice, bigotry and envy, and bore all with a serene dignity of spirit, which a firm reliance in Heaven could alone have given.
In his public teachings he never indulged in abstractions, never ran away from his theme, upon abstruse and visionary ideas. He was in this respect, as in all others, eminently natural, eminently practical, eminentlyoriginal. We do not find nature teaching us by adducingvague notions of facts, but rather by a display of the facts themselves. Abstractions and transcendentalisms are but thick fogs to cloud the mental vision, while plain matter-of-fact is the clear, bright view of truth, with the soft, rich perspective of wisdom. It is exceedingly questionable, when we hear a minister dilating upon the arts and sciences, or leading his hearers off in a vein of visionary philosophy, whether that man has a religion worth preaching, or that is congenial to his own heart.
"Hewas a man of great originality and remarkable power," says Rev. Mr. Miner. "He walked not in a beaten track. His method of interpretation was all his own; it was evolved by the new faith which inspired him, and maintained throughout a self-consistency unknown to biblical writers fifty years ago. Though his labor consisted in dealing with the most familiar statements, yet he never failed to shed upon his theme a new and diviner light, and to invest it with rare and universal interest. It is no condemnation of his method of interpretation to say that it seemed, to the perverted understanding of that time, to be forced and unnatural. The value of this circumstance may be justly estimated by the fact, that the current methods of the world have been constantly assimilating to his method, ever since it has been in conflict with them.
"It was in his style of exposition and clearness of illustration, rather than in his form of statement, that his originality consisted. It was manifested not somuch by rhetorical aids, as by his vivid embodiment of the principle he would inculcate. In the early part of his ministry, he had too much hard work to do, too many open and covert foes to contend with, too many hurtful errors to overthrow, to permit him to loiter in the fields of literature for the gathering of verbal and rhetorical bouquets. He needed not these aids. His thought was rare, and burned with the truths of God. Howsoever expressed, it was sure to be remembered. The hearer might have no recollection of the dress. Whether clothed or unclothed, whether 'in the body or out of the body,' he might not be able to say. One thing, however, he could say; a new thought, glowing like the sun in the heavens, with a light all its own, had found a place in his heart. He who possesses such a power need seek no other. The trappings of literature can never do the work of truth. They may dazzle the imagination; but truth alone can warm the heart. They may lead to the admiration of man, but never to the adoration of God."
This is so much in the spirit of what we have before remarked, that the quotation is most applicable.
Several short poems are introduced into these pages from Mr. Ballou's pen. They are generally taken at random from his published fugitive pieces, unless designed to illustrate some particular trait of character or frame of mind, some cherished principle of the writer's heart. Though we claim no fame for Mr. Ballou as a poet, yet his productions in this line of composition are numerous.A volume of his poems has lately been collected and published, but these pieces were thrown off in the hurry of an editor's duty, and evince no care on the writer's part. He has left us scraps of verse, however, which show that the power was native in him, and the poet's genius a part of his natural endowment. The verses that will close the last of this volume, though written in old age, compare favorably with those of any production of the kind we have ever met with. As late as the year 1844, he was an occasional contributor of poems to the press, of a character calculated for the times. These verses were given to the public under the signature of "Spectator," and were designed to effect some prominent end, to reform some acknowledged impropriety, or to commend that which was good and useful. These, however, were never attributed to him, nor was it known out of his family circle that he had written them. Some of them were humorous, some pathetic, some patriotic. His poems were always easy and liquid in versification, full of point and meaning, expressing much in a few words, while the ideas are clothed in the sweetest garb of poesy. Witness the following, which is the only one at hand at this time:
HYMN FOR FOURTH OF JULY."Arise and hail the jubilee,The day that set our nation free;In song his honor chant who gaveCounsel and victory to the brave.Ye daughters fair, fresh garlands weave,With chaplets strew the warrior's grave;Lo! from the mould'ring sod shall riseFame's sweetest incense to the skies.Fifty bright summer suns have smiled,And fifty harvest moons beguiledChildhood and youth, since vernal showersFirst moistened freedom's lovely flowers.Let joy throughout our land inspireEach manly heart with holy fire;And freedom's song, by Miriam sung,Be heard from every female tongue."
HYMN FOR FOURTH OF JULY.
"Arise and hail the jubilee,The day that set our nation free;In song his honor chant who gaveCounsel and victory to the brave.
Ye daughters fair, fresh garlands weave,With chaplets strew the warrior's grave;Lo! from the mould'ring sod shall riseFame's sweetest incense to the skies.
Fifty bright summer suns have smiled,And fifty harvest moons beguiledChildhood and youth, since vernal showersFirst moistened freedom's lovely flowers.
Let joy throughout our land inspireEach manly heart with holy fire;And freedom's song, by Miriam sung,Be heard from every female tongue."
We well remember to have been present on one occasion, when a conversation took place between Mr. Ballou and a visitor who had come from a distance on purpose to see and talk with him on the matter of religion. He was vacillating in his faith, but was by no means persuaded of the truth of Universalism. He was a man of wealth, had retired from business, but having had his mind brought to a serious turn by a very critical illness, which had nearly proved fatal to him, he had resolved to make the Scriptures his study until he should be able to say that he had joy and peace in believing. This he told Mr. Ballou, who commended his resolution, promised to afford him any and all light within his own power to impart, and sitting down together, they conversed for some time.
"I cannot see," said the visitor at last, "why it is that a religion which promises its believers and followers eternal life for obedience, and the woe of eternalmisery for disobedience, does not make more truly religious people than your doctrine, which holds forth only temporary evil for disobedience, and temporary reward for obedience. The matter seems very plain to me."
"I will tell you the reason of this," said Mr. Ballou, "and in so doing I will give you an evidence also of the truth of the doctrine I profess. The reason is found in the very nature of man, his disposition, and natural promptings. Give to him a task to perform, threaten him with the most fearful sufferings and torment if he fail to accomplish the duty you have prescribed for him, and his calculation will naturally be to do just as little of the hated work as it is possible for him to do and avoid the punishment. Now, on the other hand, you give him an occupation which he is satisfied will be productive of his own happiness and good, that in the very nature of things will produce him an ample and abundant reward, and the selfishness natural to man will lead him to be faithful."
"It would most certainly seem to be so," answered the visitor, thoughtfully.
"Certainly this is plain philosophy," was the answer.
"But I do not exactly understand your application," said the stranger.
"That is just what I am coming to. Present to man a religion of which the services are calculated to promote his rational enjoyment, which takes nothing from him without returning more than its value, and in thespirit of which increase of duty is an increase of happiness, and there is but little danger but that they will eagerly accept it. This world is full of labor, toil, and traffic, and the whole is carried on by the power of this principle."
"I must acknowledge that religion has seemed to be too much sustained by threats and promises," said the stranger.
"To be sure it has," said Mr. Ballou. "The idea that we perform any service in order to escape punishment, renders that service tedious and irksome to us; while, on the contrary, duty is supreme delight when love is the inducement and the labor."[1]
The individual above referred to was an Englishman, who came often to Mr. Ballou's house afterwards, and held similar conversations. This was no unusual case. Perfect strangers came and sat for hours sometimes, evidently seekers after truth, and anxious ones too. To such Mr. Ballou was ever condescending, patient, and took delight in answering all their queries upon certain doctrinal points, explaining each passage referred to, showing its bearing upon others, and challenging the visitor's respect by his urbanity and never-varying politeness in all things.
Mr. Ballou was ever ready and prompt at an answer, and his replies were frequently tempered with a quickand pungent wit. He was on a certain occasion, on his way to deliver a lecture in the town of Reading, Vt., surrounded by a number of people, when an Orthodox deacon, confronting him suddenly, asked, with a taunting air and self-sufficient bearing,—
"Will you answer me one question, Mr. Ballou?"
"Certainly, if I can do so at such short notice," said Mr. Ballou, smiling at the man's impetuosity.
"Well, sir," said the deacon, "what will become of a man who goes out of the world cursing and swearing, and calling on God to damn his soul to hell?"
"Do you believe, my dear sir," said Mr. Ballou, "that a righteous God would answer the vile prayer of such a wicked wretch?"
"Why no," said the deacon, "of course not."
"You have answered your own question then," said Mr. Ballou, quietly, while the deacon turned away much disconcerted.
It is so true that Folly's shallow lip can ask the deepest question, that it is well to remember sometimes, that a fool should be answered according to his folly.
"The frequency of his times of preaching, in the former part of his ministry," says the editor of the Repository, "can be but ill imagined now, nor the intense interest with which his message was listened to by the multitude. At times he would preach between two appointments, while his horse was feeding,—his pulpit the base of a noble oak, and the congregation reverently standing in its broad shadow. Takingadvantage of his haste in leaving, some question would be asked him by some restive, dogmatic deacon, and the undreamed of answer, that came as the lightning's flash, would add new fuel to the fire of interest he had kindled in the midst of the people."
In this connection we are reminded of an anecdote, for which we are indebted to Rev. Sylvanus Cobb, of the Christian Freeman. We introduce it here to show Mr. Ballou's power of argument without the least tincture of ostentation. It was often his way in debate to ask some apparently simple but natural question, which his opponent answering, as he obviously must do, would almost certainly refute his own fragile creed or position, and himself and others would be led to see where the truth really was. Mr. Cobb says:—
"The world at large have known much of the powers and genius of Mr. Ballou's mind from his published works, but he had most lovely traits of character which a personal acquaintance only could discover. While an intellectual giant in strength, he was unaffectedly modest and unassuming, and never engaged in mere disputations. He would never enter into a combat for mere personal mastery, nor pursue a noisy contest with one who showed himself to be insincere and trickish; while his own meekness and simplicity of spirit, combined with his clearness of perception, would generally cut down the swaggering, cavilling spirit, if he came in contact with it.
"An interesting incident, illustrative of this amiabletrait of character, once occurred in a brief exchange of words between him and Abner Kneeland. Mr. Kneeland had become an atheist, and one day came into an apartment where there was a little company of our ministering brethren, among whom was Mr. Ballou. Mr. Kneeland was forward to communicate this supposed new light to those with whom he was formerly associated in the ministry of Christ. He could dispense with the use of a creator of the world and of man, regarding the physical universe and the human species as eternal in their being without beginning. Yet he got in the idea, in the course of the conversation, that man is composed of the elements of nature.
"Mr. Ballou had been sitting in silence, with his elbows resting upon his knees (an attitude he often assumed when listening attentively to an argument). At this point he raised his head, and assumed an erect position of body, and said:—
"'Bro. Kneeland, you seem to have thought a great deal on these subjects, and perhaps you can give me some useful information. Now we see around us, in the city and country, a great many wooden houses. Of what are these houses made?'
"'They are made of timbers, boards, shingles, and the like,' answered Mr. Kneeland.
"'And out of what,' said Mr. Ballou, 'are these boards and shingles made?'
"'Out of trees,' replied Mr. K.
"'Then,' said Mr. Ballou, 'all wooden houses weremade out of trees. If so, must there not have been trees before there was a wooden house?'
"'Yes,' said the other, 'of course.'
"'Well, I thought so,' said Mr. Ballou; 'and now,' continued he, 'here are many brick houses,—of what are they made?'
"'They are made,' answered Mr. Kneeland, 'out of bricks, which are composed of clay and sand.'
"'Well, then,' said Mr. Ballou, 'if all brick houses are made of bricks, which are composed of clay and sand, must there not have been bricks before there was a brick house, and clay and sand before there was a brick?'
"Mr. Kneeland now, perceiving what application Mr. Ballou was about to make of his concessions, to explain his philosophy of having men composed of the elements of nature and yet having no elements of nature before there were men, began to equivocate! He would not admit the inference from the fact that all brick houses were made of bricks, etc., and he even retraced his steps, and took back what he had admitted in respect to wooden houses.
"'What!' said Mr. Ballou, 'if all wooden houses were made of trees, must there not have been trees before there were wooden houses?'
"'No,' replied Mr. Kneeland, 'that need not follow!'
"'Well, then,' said Mr. Ballou, 'how stupid I am!'
"And as he uttered these words, he dropped his headagain, and let himself back into a posture of quiet rest. Mr. Kneeland at the same time choked and blushed, and attempted to recover himself for renewed conversation, but he evidently could not, and so took his departure.
"This is but one of many incidents which might be cited to illustrate Mr. Ballou's simplicity in the pursuit and love of truth, his readiness with argument for its support and advancement, in connection with a modest, unassuming habit, and a hatred of bluster and noisy strife."
A volume might be filled with anecdotes equally characteristic of Mr. Ballou's manner and style of argument, had we the necessary time to collect them. But we trust that the few that are compiled and given to our readers herewith, may sufficiently familiarize them with the subject's character, both as a Christian and as a theologian. Since commencing this work, a vast number of anecdotes have suggested themselves to the writer's mind, and others, new to him, have been submitted by friends; but only such as have been considered valuable as illustrating his character, and which are known to be authentic, have been selected for publication in these pages.
All who knew Mr. Ballou intimately, can bear witness that his home was a happy one. This, of course, was owing to the manner in which he had framed and modeled that home after his own heart and the dictates of the religion he professed. He was the master mind there; his word was law, his simplest wish strictly complied with. He was looked up to with a degree of respect and veneration by his children, that was an abiding evidence of his true character. In the government of his family, heled, but neverdrove, his children, endeavoring, to the utmost of his ability, to bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, and, taking his divine Master for his example, he governed them by love and kindness alone.
He was strongly characterized for his fondness of domestic enjoyment, and throughout his whole life, to the very end, evinced the most constant and tenderest solicitude for each and all of his children. Even after theyhad married and settled in life, with families about them, this solicitude continued as ardent as ever; nor was there one of those children who would undertake any matter of importance without first consulting his wishes in the premises, and seeking his advice upon the subject; so highly were both respected and esteemed. This is mentioned in this connection, not as an encomium upon the family, but simply to show the reader the universal love and respect that its head always commanded. We find this subject referred to by Rev. Henry Bacon, in his published remarks concerning the decease of the subject of this biography. He refers to the respect in which his advice was held upon secular matters, not only in his own family, but by others of his acquaintance.
"He was great," says Mr. Bacon, "in the clearness with which he saw the essential truths of the gospel, and in the power with which he communicated them to others, by that spirit of calm earnestness, and that wondrous faculty to make himself intelligible, which peculiarly distinguished him. He was great as a logician; great in wisdom that penetrates to the reality of character, and opens the real motives that sway the man;and his counsel in matters far removed from his peculiar walk in life was weighed as the utterance of an oracle that must not be slighted. Simple in his habits, he lost nothing of life in indulgences that rob existence of its serenity; fixed in a few great principles, he made everything contribute thereto for the enlargement of his views of men and things; and,reverencing the Scriptures with a depth of reliance that was beautiful to behold, he brought forth the harmonies of the divine Word in a manner that suggested more than he ever expressed, though he expressed enough to satisfy millions of souls."
May we add here, how grateful such words of appreciation are to the hearts of his family.
The following was furnished us by Rev. Thomas Whittemore, and would seem to come most properly under this chapter of Domestic and Personal Characteristics. Mr. Whittemore was solicited for something relative to the subject, being so old and valued a friend of the deceased, and he thus speaks:—
"The life of Hosea Ballou is, in almost every respect, pleasing to contemplate. It was a very active life. He travelled much, he preached often, he studied continually, and he wrote not a little. In the earlier part of his life he joined teaching of the young in the common sciences to his other avocations. No small portion of his leisure time he spent in reading; but hethoughtmore than he read. He was always digging for gold; not, however, in books, but in the mine of his own intellect. His mind was very active.
"The most pleasing part of his life was his serene old age. The writer of this remembers him well when he was forty years of age. Ten years afterwards, the writer entered his family to pursue a course of studies for the ministry. Mr. B.'s mind at fifty seemed never at rest. If not reading, he was busily engaged in mental effort.Often, when he was walking in the streets, have we seen his lips move, as if he were talking. At his home, he would sit frequently with his eyes closed, his lips moving, as if holding conversation with some invisible person; and when he apparently came to some crisis in his meditations, he showed some outward sign of his feelings, sometimes by a smile, at others by suppressed laughter, at others by a sigh.
"A mind thus active is in danger of disturbing, if too much indulged, the proper action of the digestive powers, which, in their turn, react upon the mind, and produce lowness of spirits and gloom. Mr. Ballou at fifty was troubled in this way. His heart had an affection sympathetic with the stomach, and its action was irregular and intermittent. At this point of his life, he had lived but three or four years in Boston; and he had had occasion to perform a large amount both of mental and physical labor. He had preached three times almost every Sabbath; had edited, for two years, the 'Universalist Magazine;' had visited many parts of the country to preach the gospel, sometimes under very animating circumstances; and these complicated labors were too much for him. His most sagacious friends then had fears either that he would not live to old age, or, if he did, that his later years would be unquiet.
"We remember, with very great satisfaction, the exceeding gentleness and amiability of his wife, in the days of which we speak. While this excellent lady still survives, it is not proper for us to express allthat may be justly said of her. She presided over her household with a fidelity, a blandness, a kindness, steady as the current of a river, and unruffled as a lake in the calmest day. This season of intermixture of health and sickness, joy and sadness, light and shade, continued for some half dozen years, when it was very gratifying to Mr. B.'s friends to see that each change denoted that his life might be protracted perhaps to old age, and that, peradventure, his old age should be as serene as his earlier days had been laborious and useful. Such proved to be the fact. He died in his eighty-second year, and his life grew more and more serene unto its close; like the sun, obscured somewhat by passing clouds at noon, but shining clearly during the rest of the day, making its course through the western sky, and passing away from the earth, as it were, into the boundless heavens beyond.
"This quiet old age I attribute to several circumstances. Mr. Ballou was a man of sound sense. It was his aim to make the best of everything. He was a Christian philosopher. He sought to rule his own spirit. He believed that humility and meekness were the brightest jewels in the Christian's crown. He had a firm trust in his Maker's goodness. He believed that God was the Sovereign of the universe, a Father of infinite goodness, as well as of infinite power, who executed his will in the armies of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth; and who, by everything which he did, and by everything which he permitted tobe done, was seeking infallibly the good of his creatures. What an influence would such a faith exert on Mr. Ballou's life!
"Added to this, he had a wife whose constant effort and highest joy was to make her husband happy. Few such women have lived. It is my duty to declare, that, during thirty years' acquaintance with her, I never have heard the first unkind word from her lips, respecting any human being. Towards her husband, there was a devotion that never tired. It was her constant desire and aim to make him useful and happy. She appeared well in any society, but home was her genial sphere. Much of the quiet of Father Ballou's old age must be attributed to her. His children, also, have been sources of great comfort to him. They diligently aimed to make him happy. He loved them all with surpassing tenderness, and they loved him in consequence. Had anything unfavorable happened to either of his children, it would have been like a dart driven through his soul. We know that, even in that case, his religion and his philosophy would have come to his aid; he would have believed that God had a wise purpose in it; but, even with that alleviation, it must greatly have disturbed his life. No such affliction, however, awaited him. Two of his sons became preachers of the same gospel which he had defended, and by their prudent lives gained the respect of all who knew them. They have not, like many clergymen, moved frequently from place to place, but, for about a quarterof a century, have remained stationary pastors. In respect to the goods of this world, they have been prudent, and have prospered. * * * * The daughters have all been married to faithful, kind, and prudent husbands, of whom two are preachers of the gospel, and all, men of respectability, intelligence, and thrift.
"Such have been the circumstances of Father Ballou's family. But we have yet to mention another source of the happiness of his last days. He saw himself standing at the head of a large and prosperous body of Christians, who loved and venerated him for his labors, the purity of his character, and the good he had done. He saw their regard for him manifested at such times, and in such ways, that he had reason to believe it was not done for effect, but was the outgushing of the real feeling of their hearts. At the meetings of conventions, associations, and other public bodies, all were happy to greet the old soldier of the cross. His strength was spared to him to such a degree, that he was able to travel and preach up to the close of his life. His last sermon was delivered within eight days of his death. He used frequently to say that it seemed to him no man had more to be thankful for than he. Prudence in diet; prudence in labor; a kind heart; an affectionate companion; loving children; ease in his worldly circumstances; the homage of the class of Christians to which he belonged; the respect of mankind at large; ability to pursue his favorite calling to the end of life; a strong trust in God, whose commandshe sought diligently to obey;—these were the causes of the serenity of his old age. 'Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright: for the end of that man is peace.' Psalm 37:37."
Especially was he fond of children and infants. This was a markedly prominent feature in his feelings; and children, too, never failed to make friends with him at once. In our own humble experience, we have made this a criterion of judgment in character. He who warmly and quickly interests a child,—whose temperament is such that infancy can easily assimilate with it,—whose sympathies are of a nature quickly to unite when brought in contact with childhood,—that man has at heart much of the realpurityandinnocencewhich are the main characteristics of those whom the Saviour blessed. We never saw a child shun or turn away from him; but we have seen scores of those who were strangers, put out their little hands and go willingly to him. In his own family circle his love of children found ample scope and a genial field for exercise.
More than forty of his own grandchildren might have been gathered together at one time during his life. But, as we have intimated, it was not with these alone that the spirit we refer to was evinced; it was the same with one as with another. All children he dearly loved, and particularly noticed. There seemed to be a magic power in his voice, and in the gentle beaming of his clear, expressive eyes, that carried assurance to their timid bosoms; and they would nestle happy and undismayed in his arms, orlisten to his words, so cunningly adapted to the powers of their tender intellect.
The secret of Mr. Ballou's remarkable success in his family government, was, doubtless, his following those rules which he has so well expressed and laid down for others. It is a valuable excerpt that he has left, and we doubt not that the reader will thank us for introducing it here, and in his own words:—"When giving to your children commands, be careful that you speak with a becoming dignity, as if not only the right, but the wisdom also to command, was with you. Be careful not to discover a jealousy that your injunctions may not be attended to; for if the child sees that you have your doubts, they will lead the child to doubt too. Be cautious never to give your commands in a loud voice, nor in haste. If you must speak loudly in order to be obeyed, when it is not convenient to raise your voice you must expect to be disobeyed; and if it be convenient for you to speak loudly, you must remember it is inconvenient for others to hear it.
"But, with regard to manner, be careful to speak in a soft, tender, kind and loving way. Even when you have occasion to rebuke, be careful to do it with manifest kindness. The effects will be incalculably better. When you are obliged to deny the request that your child may make, do not allow yourself to do this with severity. It is enough for our dear little ones to be denied of what they may think they want, withoutbeing nearly knocked down with a sharp voice ringing in their tender ears.
"If you practise severity, speak harshly, frequently punish in anger, you will find your children will imbibe your spirit and manners. First you will find that they will treat each other as you treat them; and after they arrive to a little age, they will treat you with unkind and unbecoming replies. But if you are wise, and treat your little ones with tenderness, you will fix the image of love in their minds, and they will love you and each other, and in their conversation will imitate the conversation which they have heard from the tenderest friend which children have on earth."
In this connection we are reminded of a letter, lately published, from Mrs. C. A. Soule, relative to her impressions touching the death of the subject of this memoir. It will be remembered that her husband was a warm and cherished friend of Mr. Ballou's, and that he was associated with him as colleague over the Second Universalist Society, in School-street, Boston, as late as 1845.
"As vividly as though it were but yesterday, does memory bring to me that sunny April day, in 1844, when I first entered the sanctuary where he had ministered so many years. There was a dedication service, and I thought then, and I think now, that I never gazed upon a more impressive sight than was presented at that moment, when the aged pastor took in his arms the little helpless babe, and in touching words consecrated it to Him who said 'Suffer little children to comeunto me.' That picture of infancy and age,—how I longed for a pencil to sketch it! Thank Heaven, memory, with faithful touch, inscribed it on my heart, and it will ever hang there, one of its most beautiful pictures. And now I see him at my own threshold. I meet him, and present him my own little one, my firstborn. How tenderly he caresses it! Long he looks into her laughing eyes, and then exclaims, in a tone I can never forget, 'How I wish I could read her thoughts!' Then, sitting down, he tells me that he never yet looked on a babe without longing to know the workings, the thoughts, of the infant mind; and afterwards gave me some excellent advice about so training that little one that when age should enable her to reveal her thoughts, they might all be pure and beautiful. How life-like is the portrait I have of him in my mind's eye! It seems so palpable that I almost feel the light as it streams from that thrilling eye, and hear the eloquent words that tremble on that 'heaven-touched tongue.'"
In illustration of the feelings which influenced him as it regarded intercourse with his children, and consideration for their enjoyment, and sympathy with them even in many seeming trifles, we relate the following anecdote, which, though perhaps trifling in itself, is by no means without value in point of application.
When Mr. Ballou engaged, in 1834, to go to New York and Philadelphia, it became known to one of his parishioners, who desired to send his child, a young lady,to the latter city, on a visit to some relations or friends. His request to take charge of the young person was cheerfully acceded to by Mr. Ballou. It so happened that the person who was to accompany him was a classmate at school and a very intimate companion of one of his own daughters, the eldest then at home. When this daughter learned that her classmate was to accompany her father on his journey, she could not but express a wish that she were going also. There were no railroad conveniences then, nor were scarcely any of the present accommodations for travelling perfected. It was not only considerable of an undertaking to commence a journey of three hundred miles, but it necessarily involved not a trifling expense.
It came to the ears of Mr. Ballou that his child really desired to accompany him; and, when he understood the circumstances, he immediately gave his consent,—telling her, playfully, not to say anything to her young friend of this, but that he would manage an agreeable surprise for her. The stage came to the house very early on the morning appointed for starting,—long before daylight. Mr. Ballou and his daughter got in, and took their places on the back seat, the latter well wrapped up about the face. They then drove to the house of her schoolmate, who was to accompany them. She also took her place in the vehicle, exchanging a salutation with Mr. Ballou, and they drove off in the darkness. It was not long before the young lady took occasion to remark, casually, to Mr. Ballou, how agreeable itwouldhave been could Elmina(the daughter) have accompanied them. "Very,—very indeed," said Mr. Ballou; and they still drove quietly on. At last, the city being now left far behind, and daylight having appeared, Mr. Ballou asked the young lady if she knew the person by her side. On hearing this inquiry, she turned to see her neighbor's face, and lo! it was her classmate and dearest friend with whom she had been thus seated so long without recognizing her! The daughter has since often declared that she knew not which enjoyed the ruse most on this occasion,—father or child.
During the year 1845, Mr. Ballou, being then seventy-four years of age, wrote and published two or three essays in the Universalist Quarterly, upon certain passages of scripture which had seemed to be a stumbling-block to many of his own denomination. One of these texts was that commencing, "In my Father's house are many mansions," etc. This, by some of the order of Universalists, was supposed to signify that in the future state there would be different degrees of blessedness, in proportion to the worthiness of the spirit, or to its moral character and mental cultivation. This idea was thoroughly exploded, as it regarded many minds, by the article referred to, which was thus the means of converting many doubtful minds, as they acknowledged, some of them orally, and some by letters addressed to him from at home and abroad. The clear, logical style of reasoning evinced in this essay, and in one published by him not long subsequent in the Quarterly, relative to thequestion as to what influence our present being may have on our future existence, showed conclusively that the full strength and vigor that originally rendered his writings so forcible were with him still, that his mental vision was as keen as ever, and that none of his powers of intellect had waned in their fire.
These articles were penned as correctly and distinctly, as it regarded the chirography, as was his early custom, and generally written, if not at one sitting, within the space of a few hours; for, when he had anything to do, he could not feel contented until it was done. The article completed, he would carefully fold it, and wend his way personally to the publishing-house in Cornhill, and deposit it there, never failing at the appointed time to read the proof, concerning which he was very sensitive, and very correct. It was but a few days prior to his decease that he read thus the proof-sheets of his last article, furnished for the Universalist Quarterly.
In the manuscript which Mr. Ballou furnished the author of this biography, there appears written about this period, the fall of 1845, the following interesting paragraph relative to the immense change that he had lived to see transpire in the religious world about him.
"Since I came to this city, I have enjoyed the happiness of seeing the cause of religion prosper, and the different denominations growing more liberal and more charitable towards each other. I have seen, too, my own peculiar views received very generally, and regarded very favorably by the denomination to which I havebelonged from the commencement of my public labors. Since I came here I have been rejoiced to see the wonderful increase of Universalist societies in Boston and the neighboring towns, as well as in the other States of our Union. There are firmly established ones now in Roxbury, Cambridgeport, East Cambridge, Medford, Malden, etc., besides five or six in Boston, to the commencement and building up of which I have had the pleasure of adding my mite by way of labor."
It was very natural that he should then contrast the state and condition of the cause with its feebleness when he first came to Boston. A few scattered believers were all it numbered then; persecution and obloquy greeted its defenders at every step. To be called a Universalist was equivalent to being called anything vile and wicked, and the name was held as one of reproach by nearly all. But how vastly different was the prospect that presented itself to his view in the closing days of his life, and how grateful this must have been to him who had borne the burthen and the heat of the day! He saw the denomination vastly extended. He saw Universalists respected not only for numbers, but for the goodly influence they exerted far and wide.
He saw that there were now nineteen annual state conventions, eighty-two associations, eight missionary societies, ten hundred and seventy societies, professing the doctrine; seven hundred and ninety-nine meeting-houses devoted to this worship, and some seven hundred preachers in his Master's vineyard, who taught the doctrine ofGod's impartial grace. These, and other facts equally illustrating the wonderful change he had witnessed, caused him, when toasted and called upon at the late festival of brethren in Boston, to speak to them, to say, that as he gazed on the crowd before him, and thought of the multitude they represented, he was reminded of the beginning of Universalism in New England, and to quote the words of the prophet: "There was a handful of corn in the top of the mountain, but its fruit shall shake like Lebanon!"
How apt and true the quotation.
We have seen that the vigor and keenness of Mr. Ballou's mind had in no way abated, that every mental faculty still shone brightly as at the prime of his manhood. Let us show the reader statistically what that mind had performed in its time. During his professional life he deliveredover ten thousand sermons. This calculation, which at first appears to be so very large, is nevertheless strictly correct, and will not seem to be overrated, when we call to mind the fact that for more than thirty years of his ministration he not only preached three times every Sabbath, butfrequentlyfor several consecutive days of the week beside. Until within five or ten years past, three sermons on the Sabbath has been his usual performance, in the line of his professional duty. And after his sermons in country towns, the answering of questions, and the conversation he was obliged to hold in private with honest seekers after truth, were quite as laborious, in fact, as were his public services in the pulpit.We have known him to occupy nearly half the night, not unfrequently, in this manner, patiently and zealously.
Including his essays and treatises upon doctrinal subjects, his fugitive sermons furnished for the different magazines and papers of which he was editor for a long period of time, and afterwards a constant contributor to the very end of his life, beside a large number which appeared in pamphlet form, and of which no particular mention is made in these pages, and the works herein referred to, Mr. Ballou has written and published enough to make one hundred volumes, containing the same amount of matter as the one now in the hands of the reader. The mere mechanical labor of writing such a mass of composition is in itself a Herculean task; but when we consider that each page is characterized by careful reasoning upon points that required much thought and study, and that the whole is largely original; that the author was unaided by any other books, save the Bible, in the formation of his arguments and opinions; and that he was a self-made man withal, we shall come to the conclusion, that, to say the least of it, the subject of these memoirs was particularly blessed and aided by Divine Providence.
One secret of his having accomplished so much, is the fact that he was never idle, never contented to sit down with folded arms in his chair and do nothing; a book or a pen was ever in his hands, except when he was taking the ordinary and necessary daily exercise. His life had been too stirring and active for him ever to relapse intodormancy, while his faculties were left to him. How well we can see him at this moment, in the mind's eye, as he used to appear at the centre-table, with his book close by the lamp, of an evening, and his wife opposite to him, listening to the work which he was reading aloud to her; such is almost the last evening scene we can recall in connection with him; his clear, distinct pronunciation, proper emphasis, and fine voice, even in old age, seeming to portray with singular accuracy the author's ideas, and to add a charm to the subject treated upon.
Mr. Ballou had always deprecated the idea of capital punishment, believing the law based on a wrong principle that would take the life of a human creature, while none but God could give it. During the winter of 1845, there was more than the usual interest evinced by the public on this subject, and numerous public meetings were held relative to the subject, and to endeavor to bring about a reform in the criminal code, so as to exclude the death penalty altogether. At several of these assemblies Mr. Ballou made eloquent addresses upon the subject, and wrote a number of articles, which were published, advocating the cause, in which he felt a very great interest. We subjoin the following poem, written by him at this time. It is peculiarly illustrative of his plain, straightforward style of composition.