Biography of Rev. Hosea Ballou

"He taught us how to live, and O! too highThe price for knowledge! taught us how to die!"

Touching the matter of death-bed scenes as they refer to religious belief, and the influence that such scenes and circumstances exerted over his own mind, he says:

"It has often been said, by the enemies of the doctrine for which I have contended, that it would do to live by, but not to die by; meaning that it would not give the mind satisfaction when sensible it was about to leave a mortal for an immortal state. As to the truth of the assertion I cannot positively say; that moment has not yet been experienced by me: and as those who make the remark have never believed the doctrine, I cannot see how they should know any better than I do. Thus much I can say: I believe I have seen, and often heard, of persons rejoicing in the doctrine in the last hours of their lives; but I do not build my faith on such grounds.

"The sorrows or the joys of persons, in their last moments, prove nothing to me of the truth of their general belief. A Jew, who despises the name of Christ from the force of his education, may be filled with comfortable hopes, in his last moments, from the force of the same education. I have no doubt but a person may believe, or pretend to believe, in the doctrine of universal salvation, when he knows of no solid reason for his belief, but has rather rested the matter on the judgment of those in whom he has placed more confidence than he has, in reality, on the Saviour of the world; and I think it very possible that such Universalists may have strange and unexpected fears, when the near approach of death, or any other circumstance, should cause them to think more seriously on so weighty a subject.

"What my feelings might be concerning the doctrine which I believe, was I called to contemplate on a death-bed, I am as unable to say, as I am what I may think of it a year hence, should I live and be in health. But I am satisfied, beyond a doubt, that if I live a year longer, and then find cause to give up my present belief, I shall not feel a consciousness of having professed what I did not sincerely believe; and was I called to leave the world and my writings in it, and at the last hour of my life should find I had erred, yet I am satisfied that I should possess the approbation of a good conscience in all I have written."

That Mr. Ballou felt fully prepared to die, there can be not the least doubt, though he did not say so in the exact words that would express this state of mind. He frequently, during the last two or three months of his life, made use of expressions, as relating to current events, in a way that led those about him to see that he was striving, particularly, to have every matter of business, or family arrangement, so completed as not in any way to be contingent upon himself. Then his frequent observations relative to the idea that he was nearly worn out; and in his sermons, too, his often repeating at this time how near he was to the brink of the grave, and that those who heard him might realize the honesty of his reasoning and the sincerity of his doctrine, since, with so short a span of existence left to him, he could not in any instance bring himself to support what he did not most solemnly and religiously believe to be the gospel of Christ, and in full accordance with the word of God; the caution already referred to as given to his wife, and various other simple but expressive tokens that he evinced during the few weeks previous to his decease, – all go fully to show that his mind was made up to die, and that he foresaw, as it were, the approach of his demise, with almost prophetic vision. The philosophy, or sophistry, therefore, as to looking upon death as the inevitable visitant to others, but as something which must miraculously pass him by, did not exist in his mind. He looked upon death as "the messenger of God, commissioned from on high;" and he held himself calmly ready to answer the blessed decree of Heaven.

Though almost constantly engaged at his study of the holy text, or in other reading and writing, still, so domestic was Mr. Ballou in his disposition and feelings, that he always took a lively interest in all the arrangements of the family, and in each one's well-being, seeking to cause as little unnecessary labor as possible on his own account. No motives other than those of the kindest character could possibly have induced this thoughtfulness, on his part; for all those about him, even the servants, always deemed it a pleasure to serve him in his slightest expressed desire, while his children ever sought to anticipate his wishes. In his directions to those called upon to attend him, there was none of the austerity or sternness of a master evinced in his manner of speech. The order direct we never heard from his lips, but, in giving directions, it was ever in the form of permission, – "You may do this, or you may hand me that;" and the appropriateness of this mode of speech was most apparent, since it was a privilege to us all to fulfil his desires.

With profane history, ancient and modern, he was well acquainted; and at the age of seventy-four, five and six, he devoted some considerable time to the reviewal of both, and particularly to the history of our own country. With Rollin, Plutarch, Smollet, Hume, Prescott, Bancroft, etc., he was perfectly familiar. At this period he was engaged, as we have said, in re-perusing the works of his library, treating mainly upon profane history. As may be supposed, to one of his disposition, home was very dear, and he was always happiest with his family.

"To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given;But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven."

During the whole of his public ministrations and professional career, he never labored with more evident effect and general influence than at this time. The ripened harvest of his experience was poured forth in the most simple and touching truthfulness, and his discourses were redolent of holy manna to the souls of his hearers; the sober arguments of conviction obtained even more fully than in former years, when the vigor of ripened manhood added its physical powers to the balance. Persons who had sat under his preaching for many years would listen with the most absorbed attention, as well as with surprise, to hear the easy flow of eloquence that seemed to come from an inspired heart, bearing witness to his quick, sure discernment, and boundless fertility of invention, – the truth and exemplifications of divine goodness were ever so fresh and abundant in the feast he spread, the arguments so logical and convincing. He was endowed in many respects with the great requisites for a lawyer, possessing a mind exceedingly active, capable of constantly commanding its own resources, and a faculty of tenaciously pursuing his argument with exceeding force and power.

It really seemed, latterly, that, realizing how brief must be his labors, and how near he was to the end of his earthly mission, he labored with increased zeal, and consequent success. His eyes, when in the desk, seemed to kindle with superhuman fire, his thoughts to flow with inspired eloquence; and those who heard him must have entered most thoroughly into his own spirit, for we have heard, from all directions where he preached, very earnest remarks of the striking effect produced by his discourses. And this effect was by no means confined to the laity; many of his ministering brethren have told us that they had never heard him discourse with more power, nor ever with such decided effect, as was the case within the last two years of his life. It was impossible for him to answer all of the demands upon him, but neither ordinary inconveniences nor distance ever caused him to decline to respond to those who, at this late period of his life, sought his counsel. In vain did we beseech him to consider his bodily comfort, and not risk his health and try his strength so much, at his advanced age, by these constant travels. "I am vain enough," he said, "to believe that I still do some good, and I am never so happy as when exercised by such a realizing sense; but, whether at home or abroad, I am still in my Maker's hands, and he will do with me as to him seemeth good."

Mr. Ballou's manuscript was always remarkably plain and correct, being, in many respects, very characteristic of himself. It was regular, exceedingly neat, and well executed, yet unostentatious, and in no degree ornamental. For our own part, we would give more for a scrap of the hand-writing of one whom we had never met, or even of him whom we had casually seen, to enable us to judge of the general characteristics of the individual's disposition, than for the testimony of many an intimate friend. It is, of necessity, in a very great degree, a sample of the man; and when we look upon it, and think that it was the work of his hand, the emanation of his brain, mechanically and mentally his, it possesses peculiar interest.

Mr. Ballou was sometimes addressed, by letter, from a distance, from those who were strangers to him, and sometimes by brethren in the ministry, who would request him to reply to certain queries which they proposed, that they might reap the advantage of his wisdom. These letters were various in their character; some related to religious questions, some to his own history, and some as to its bearing upon his belief in the tenets of faith. One who professed to have read his numerous works, and who was also an ardent believer in the doctrine of universal salvation, converted through his writings, sent the following queries to him in a letter some time in 1847, during his seventy-sixth year. Having the letter and reply, we subjoin the spirit of the former, and give the latter to the reader entire.

"Queries.– With what feelings do you look back upon your past life, its influence and results, its commencement and its end? As it regards your published works and writings, has experience strengthened the opinions and points laid down in them, or have you after years of study and reflection found cause for change? What is the present end and aim of your life, and how does it differ from the morning of your existence?

"Reply to Query 1st.– When I survey the course of my past life, as I often do, I am filled with wonder; and a clear conviction that, as a whole, it has been appointed and directed by Infinite Wisdom, all but reduces me to nothing. True, I can simply realize that I exist; and can compare myself to a drop of water in the midst of the ocean, dependent, as I always have been, on that Being who holds the unmeasured deep in the hollow of his hand. I am fully satisfied that none of the eventful incidents of my life would have been what they were, had not an overruling Providence disappointed my own plans and purposes in many instances. Pursuant to these considerations, in viewing the apparent 'influences and results' of my labors, I should be quite at variance with the conviction of my own understanding, should I indulge a feeling to credit them to myself. With such views of the past and present, I feel satisfied, and even thankful.

"My childhood and youth were, like most of others, full of vanity. My public life commenced with no extensive prospects. I do not know that the thought ever entered my mind that my public labors would ever procure me a livelihood… My main desire now is that it may please Him whose I am and whom I serve, so to direct that what remains of my fleeting days may in no way dishonor, but promote, the cause of his truth, to which I have so long been devoted.

"Reply to Query 2nd.– All the important doctrinal points contained in the several works which I have published are still my honest convictions; and as they were widely different from the views generally entertained by theologians, I examined them with all possible care, and have never seen cause to rescind them. And I can add, that I have never, in my public labors, allowed myself to present to my hearers any sentiment, or to expound any portion of scripture, but in accordance with the sober convictions of my understanding.

"Reply to Query 3d.– The main object by which I was actuated at the commencement of my public labors was to understand the true doctrine of the Scriptures, and by all possible means to convey conviction of its truth to the understanding of all who had ears to hear; and my present aim is to finish, in the best manner I can, these labors, by persuading people, not only to understand the true nature of the gospel, but to cherish its blessed hopes, and to faithfully practise its precepts."

During a visit of the author of this biography to the Southern and Western States of the Union, in the summer of 1846, he had an opportunity to witness the most evident token of the popularity of Mr. Ballou in these sections, and the high esteem in which his writings are held. This was particularly the case in the State of Ohio, the most distant point from his home that Mr. Ballou ever visited. Here, in passing through the state, we had frequent occasion to register our name and place of residence, which often led to our being asked whether we were a connection of Hosea Ballou's; and when the existing relationship was made known, there were no bounds to the hospitality that was urged upon us. In Cincinnati, it so happened that an original lithographic print of Mr. Ballou was being struck off just as we left the city, and we were kindly furnished with the first dozen impressions taken from the stone. This lithograph is from a crayon drawing taken from life, at Akron, Ohio, during the visit of Mr. Ballou to that town in 1844, by an artist sent up from Cincinnati for the purpose. The likeness is a good one in many respects, but much inferior to several taken in Boston, both as it regards likeness and as a work of art.

During the summer of 1847, Mr. Ballou visited his eldest son, Rev. Hosea F. Ballou, at his residence and farm in Whitingham, Vt., where for several days he applied himself to labor on the land; reaping, mowing, and the various departments of farming, during the week, and to public services in that and the neighboring towns on the Sabbath. These few weeks of healthy toil invigorated him to a most surprising degree, and, though more than seventy-five years of age, I was assured by those who were on the spot that he did the work of a day-laborer with ease, and that his hand wielded the scythe with the steadiness and effect of early years. He told us afterwards himself how sweet his food tasted, how refreshing his bed felt, and how clear and invigorated his brain was, by this homely labor, and the sweat of the brow. He would sometimes sigh at the constraint of his town life, and eulogize the green fields and verdant hill-sides. He says: "All of us have our prescribed duties, and the economy of nature requires certain tastes and temperaments that will apply themselves to the various concerns of life. We find the mechanic, the farmer, the minister, the artisan, the lawyer, all endowed with some prominent qualities, which particularly fit them for the proper discharge of their peculiar calling; and this is necessary, that all things may be done well and harmoniously. But, of all the business occupations of life, it has always seemed to me that the farmer's employment must be the most agreeable. The country is real, the city is artificial; one is nature, the other is art. In the earlier portions of my life, I gathered some experience in tilling the soil; in boyhood and early youth, it was almost my sole occupation. Even as late as my residence in Salem, I was accustomed to plant and cultivate a portion of ground. The great charm of the farmer's element is that it brings him in such close contact with nature; his labor, so healthful and invigorating, being performed to the soft hymns and sacred melodies that creation ever chants in open fields and woodlands."

During this season Mr. Ballou travelled considerably in the New England States and New York, in accordance with letters of invitation sent to him from every direction. During the month of August he preached at numerous places in the vicinity of Montpelier, Vt., and the route thither from Boston. This journey was peculiarly gratifying to his feelings; everywhere he was received with that warmth of heart and real sincerity that invigorate the soul. Meeting-houses were abandoned as too small, and temporary pulpits were erected in the open air, from whence he addressed the thousands who came from far and near to listen to his words. His name was so well known, and his character so beloved, throughout the order, that the simple announcement of his presence drew multitudes together, who listened with the utmost avidity to his words, which carried with them the "clear running wine of conviction."

Here let us pause for a moment, and ask the reader to consider what a powerful and godly influence the life of such a man must have exerted upon community, and those persons with whom he was brought into frequent contact. There was such perfect harmony, such a beautiful consistency, between his pure Christian life and the religion he taught, that the most thoughtless could not but observe and note it. We heard an old man say, but a few days ago, – "Before I knew your father I heard that he was one of the vilest of men; that he was intemperate, profane, vulgar, and, in short, everything that was bad. But when I saw him, meek, unostentatious, gentle, reverential, and preaching such glorious truths, I said to myself, so was his Divine Master reviled and persecuted!" This was the false report that was raised against him thirty and forty years since. The subject of this biography did not answer these calumnies; he lived them down, and manifested as strong an argument in favor of his doctrine by his every-day life, as by his oral communications from the pulpit. His writings, too, evincing the same spirit as his personal career, manifesting so much sincerity, and logical force of argument, garbed in such simple language, and yet conveying such sublime truths, and these so largely enforced by a personal knowledge of their author, – at least throughout a large portion of the eastern states, – must have exerted, and will continue to exert, an influence of almost incalculable extent.

It is in perfect unison with the analogy of nature that the sunset of life should be more cheerful and joyous than the meridian. The sweetest notes of the nightingale are heard at evening, the woods put on their most cheerful aspect in the autumn of the year, and the sun is the brightest when about to sink beneath the horizon. It was at this period of life that Mr. Ballou seemed to have arrived at the goal of his ambition, actuated only by

"Those calm desires that ask but little room."

The principles which he had so long and so strenuously advocated prevailing beyond all precedence, his family happily settled in life about him, and himself respected and beloved by an entire denomination as a faithful disciple of Christ and a true Christian. In a conversation with him upon the comforts and troubles of old age, we asked him, one day, about this period, what was his greatest trouble. He facetiously referred us to the reply of Fontenelle, who was asked, in extreme old age, what inconvenience he experienced, when he replied, "None, but that of existence," signifying by this answer how really happy and contented he was.

For the last twenty years of Mr. Ballou's life, it was not an uncommon occurrence for strangers from a distance to call on him and introduce themselves, as desirous of looking upon him and making his acquaintance. "I have read your works, and it has seemed as though I knew you well already, for they are like familiar conversations." This would be the purport of their language. "Your books," they would say, "have made me a Universalist; and I could not feel satisfied until I had seen personally one to whom I am so much indebted, and whom I so highly respect." This was the case in more than one instance, at different periods, when Englishmen declared that it was the great purpose that had influenced them in visiting the Union. In such cases they met with a cordial and hospitable welcome at his house and table, and hours of pleasant discussion would ensue upon the doctrines of the Scriptures, and congenial themes. Many were the visitors from various parts of the country with the same avowed purpose, and similarly influenced.

In the latter part of 1848, owing to some unfortunate exposure to the weather, he was most violently attacked with ague in the face, so severe as to cause the whole face to swell so much as to close one of the eyes entirely. The attack lasted in its effects for several days, and was exceedingly painful. Though moved with the keenest regret at the pain we knew he must suffer, still we could not but admire the strength of mind and calm philosophy with which he endured it. Not a murmur escaped his lips, and intervals occurring between the most severe moments of his suffering were devoted to writing or study, while the constant kind offices of those about him, and more particularly those of his dearly-beloved partner and children, were ever received with grateful words, and tokens of a full appreciation of the warm love that prompted them.

In the summer of 1847, the School-street Society requested of Mr. Ballou, through its standing committee, that he would sit for a full-length portrait, to be the property of the society, and to be hung in Murray Hall, adjoining the church. Mr. Ballou agreed to their proposition, and granted the requisite sittings, and a magnificent portrait was produced. The picture is as large as life. The preacher is represented standing in the pulpit of the School-street church, the fingers of the right hand inserted in the Bible, the left slightly extended. The likeness and expression are perfectly life-like, and true to the original. From this excellent painting several copies have been taken for his family and friends.

This painting was the source of a great degree of satisfaction to the society and Mr. Ballou's friends generally, for, in common with many others left of him, it is excellent as a likeness, and therefore is a pregnant page in his history; for, of the three principal channels of judging and arriving at the knowledge of character, namely, looks, words and actions, the former is the most faithful. Professions pass for nothing, actions may be counterfeited, but a man's looks he cannot hide. A modern writer, in language perhaps too forcible, says: – "A man's whole life may be a lie to himself and others, and yet a picture painted of him by a great artist would probably stamp his true character on the canvas, and betray the secret to posterity." Subscribing in a large degree to this principle, we consider that the paintings, busts, medallions, and likenesses generally, of Mr. Ballou, may be highly valued as speaking his true character in the expression, and telling a faithful story of the original.

As it regards the likeness which the publisher has placed in the commencement of this biography, to those who have not seen the subject of the picture within the last few years, it may look perhaps a little too aged; but in this respect it is the most truthful of any likeness of him extant. He has been often represented, as the reader is aware, at almost every period of his life since his thirtieth year; and with more or less correctness, in each instance, as it regarded his expression and formation of features at that time; but it strikes us that those who have been familiar with Mr. Ballou's face to the last of his career will esteem this engraving, aside from its superior artistic excellence, as transcribing for us the last looks of his dearly-loved face.

In a notice of the large painting now hanging in Murray Hall, which appeared in the Trumpet of Sept. 4th, 1847, the editor says: —

"He (Mr. Ballou) is now in excellent health, firm, erect, and preaches vigorously; his mind is unimpaired; he is strong in the faith to which the labors of his life have been given, and we do not see why he will not be able to preach for ten years to come, should his life be spared. He can preach three sermons with but little fatigue, while some of the middle-aged can hardly find strength to preach twice of a Sunday."

In the fall of 1847, Mr. Ballou, then in his seventy-seventh year, attended the Universalist convention in New York city, where he delivered a sermon before the brethren assembled there, which created no small degree of notice, and was pronounced by those who heard it to be one of extraordinary power and force. Some of the brethren at once called upon him for a copy for publication; but when he told them that he had no copy himself, and that it was entirely extemporaneous, their surprise was great. That one of his advanced age could deliver a discourse of so remarkable a character, with every point arranged in the most exact order, abounding in powerful and well-sustained argument and varied phases, unless assisted by notes, seemed almost impossible.