SENTIMENTS RELATIVE TO DEATH.
Mr. Ballou was ever governed by a calm resignation to the decrees of
Providence, and as it regarded the subject of his own death,--that
thought which is said to make cowards of us all, that theme upon which
we are too much inclined to dwell with feelings of dread and fear.
Notwithstanding we are taught by Christian philosophers that life should
be a preparation for death, there are very few of us who regard this
inevitable event in its proper light. Dr. Young uttered a most profound
truth when he said:--
"Each man thinks all men mortal but himself."
A man recognizes the certainty of this event's taking place with regard
to his neighbor, his friend, and the members of his own family. He feels
that the hour of separation from his aged and beloved parents must come;
that the brother or sister, whose infant joys and sorrows are his own,
whose sympathy has cheered his manhood, must one day be taken from him;
that the wife of big bosom must close her eyes in death; that the stern
messenger may at any time smite the darlings of their little flock,
gathered around his knee in play or prayer; and while they are yet in
life he prepares for them the last resting-place in some sheltered spot,
some woodland cemetery, where the brightest smile of nature may gild the
place of their repose. But he cannot realize that he himself, in the
pride of his manhood, the blood coursing cheerily through his veins, a
sense of vitality giving an elasticity to every movement, will be called
upon to lay down this glorious panoply of life, to feel the bounding
blood curdle and become as ice within his veins, and the bright vision
of the world fade into nothingness before his glazing eyes. He himself,
by some miracle, must be snatched from the universal doom. Thus death
finds almost every man unprepared. The very criminal, upon whose ears
fall the deep tones of the funeral knell, hopes for a reprieve even at
the foot of the scaffold. The soldier cannot think of death as he mounts
the "imminent deadly breach;"--his comrades may fall, but he must
escape. Thus, in our strange, delusive sophistry, even if we think of
death, we seek to alienate the idea from ourselves.
As it regarded the death of any member of his extensive family circle,
what a tower of strength and consolation he ever was to the mourning
hearts of his children! How calm and serene he would appear when called,
in the providence of God, to sympathize with them at the loss of their
little ones, near and dear to their parental hearts! However deep the
distress of soul which exercised the breast of any member of his family
by the solemn visitation of death, his venerable presence would always
restore peace to the almost broken heart, and make the sunshine radiate
once more in the mourner's bosom. He had several trials, and keen ones,
too, through which he passed, of this character. His third daughter,
Mrs. Whittemore, wife of Rev. Benjamin Whittemore, was called upon to
lay one and another of her tender offspring in the grave, until, at
last, when the third was placed there, she exclaimed, in the agony of
her heart, that she could not leave the tomb where half her loved ones
lay in death. But for his presence even reason might have deserted her
throne; but his calm and sainted expression, his holy balm of religion,
his simple words of hope, were as oil upon troubled waters. So again was
he similarly exercised, through visitations of death, in the family of
his eldest son, Rev. Hosea F. Ballou, and Rev. Massena B. Ballou; in the
family circle of his third daughter, Cassendana, wife of Joseph Wing;
and again in the home of his fourth daughter, Elmina, wife of Rev. J. C.
Waldo; and also in the circle of the sixth daughter, Fiducia, wife of
Abijah W. Farrar.
But more particularly was this power of consolation evinced as exercised
in his own family, when the eldest daughter, Fanny, widow of Leonard
Holmes, was taken from life. It was the first death that we had known in
our immediate circle of brothers and sisters, and the stroke had all
the power and force of a first great sorrow. Then his spirit shone forth
in all the Christian beauty and loveliness of its influence. Then the
majesty and holy power of his religion was evinced in letters of light.
And while referring to this family,--for there were six orphan children
left behind,--we might appropriately refer to the munificent bounty of
his hand towards them; of a home purchased and given to them; and of
much fatherly kindness and generosity towards those orphan children.
This spirit of resignation he infused largely into his children, who in
turn offered to his own spirit that strength of hope and divine reliance
which in periods of trial he had imparted to them. This might be said to
be particularly the case with Clementina, his fifth daughter, wife of
Isaac H. Wright, who, without the domestic care of a family, was enabled
to be much and often at home,--especially if any physical illness
affected either father or mother,--and who, with others of the children,
was with him night and day, constantly, during his last illness, and the
closing hours of his life.
We have before referred to the grateful influence his presence exerted
in the sick room, and when called upon to lift up his voice with the
dying; but so prominent a trait of character, as evinced in his home
relations, should not be omitted here. It may be interesting to remark,
in these domestic notes, that Mr. Ballou resided, for over thirty years,
with his second daughter, Cassendana, and her family, in Boston. A more
cheerful and happy home it would be difficult for fancy to paint. There
was no contention there,--no jealousies, no jarring of interests;
everything seemed to take its hue from him; and calm domestic joy and
serene contentment reigned over all. He seemed to exhale the atmosphere
of peace, and no contending elements could withstand the soothing
character of his presence.
Mr. Ballou's idea of death, as being but the portal to blissful
immortality, may be gathered by the following, from his own pen:
"The idea of immortality makes everything in life valuable. Here we may
lay up all our treasures, where neither moth nor rust can corrupt, nor
thieves break through and steal. Here God's bright favor will never grow
dim, nor will our love and gratitude ever decay. Do you see Hope's
celestial form, leaning on her anchor, and, while the raging waves of a
restless sea dash against her, she remains unmoved? Do you observe her
aspect firm, and her eyes turned towards heaven? And would you wish to
cast her down, and wreck her on the quicksands of dismal doubt? Go,
brother, to the chamber of sickness, where life's waning embers can no
longer warm the dying heart; there hear from cold and quivering lips
this hope expressed: 'I long to be with Christ,--I long to be at rest!'
Would you blast this amaranthine flower? Would you plant in its stead
the nightshade of despair? Listen no longer to the wild suggestions of
fancy and wandering imaginations, under the specious pretence of
searching after truth. For Jesus is the way, the truth and the life.
'Give me the light of this bright sun to see;
All other lights like meteors are to me.'"
"I think one thing is certain," says Mr. Ballou, in one of his last
published articles, "and that is, that the opinion that we immediately
enter on that state into which the resurrection introduces mankind is
far more desirable, to all people, than the opinion that ages of
unconscious sleep succeed our brief existence here in the flesh. * * *
In conclusion, I will say that I am sensible that there are passages of
scripture which seem to favor the opinion of a general, simultaneous
resurrection, which appear difficult to reconcile with such as I have
above noticed; but that they outweigh them I have no sufficient reason
to allow. The supposition that all who have died have until now remained
in an unconscious state, seems more like annihilation than well accords
with our glorious hope."
Mr. Ballou's mind was ever made up to meet death at any moment; and,
with implicit reliance on the goodness and fatherly care of Him in whose
hand we all are, and who does not permit even a sparrow to fall to the
ground without his knowledge, he left all to the wise decree of Heaven,
and loaded not his soul with fear of the result. He conversed but little
upon the subject; but when he did so, it was with a cheerful spirit and
contented mind.
His profession was such as to make him familiar with death in all its
forms. It was no strange subject to him; but, on the contrary, one which
had engaged much of his thought and earnest consideration. With so full
and implicit a reliance in the complete sovereignty of the Almighty as
his religious belief imparted, he could have no fear or doubt as to the
perfectness of the decrees of Providence. He literally argued everything
for good, and that nothing transpired without a purpose of the Director
of all things; and in that purpose he recognized but one principle,
which was the _good of the children of men_. These premises once
established in his mind, what fear could he possibly entertain of death?
It is a part of the Divine economy,--that was enough for him. Applied to
any dispensation of Providence, or to tenets of faith, this same
reliance will be found evinced in all his ministrations and life. He
says:--"We have ever this pleasing reflection,--this sublime, this
instructive lesson,--that the wisdom which constitutes the vast frame of
the universe, and which organized all nature,--the power that raised
this glorious superstructure upon its basis,--has ever been directed,
and ever will be directed, towards the _good_ and _benefit_ of mankind.
That there can be no such thing as partiality, or anything like cruelty,
in all the system of God, as the moral governor of the world, is as
plain a proposition as can possibly be stated. There is not in the bosom
of our Father in Heaven any principle but goodness to his children.
There is not in the bosom of our Heavenly Father, nor can there be,
anything like cruelty or partiality; but his eternal wisdom is ever
working for the benefit of his creatures."
He held the grave to be a calm, safe anchorage for the shattered hulls
of men,--the portal through which the spirit passes to God who gave it.
Concerning this subject there are a few lines from his pen so applicable
in this connection, that we cannot refrain from transcribing them here.
In common with those pieces which we have already given the reader,
there is no effort at grandeur in the piece; the beauty and propriety of
the poem is undisguised by metaphor, being put down in the tender and
persuasive language of a Christian heart, pleading for the good of man,
and the honor of its Maker. Mr. Ballou's poetical productions are such
an index of his soul, his real character, that we are induced again to
refer to the fact. They are ever like himself, simple, yet forcible, and
never without a purpose, and most incontrovertible argument, expressed
or implied. The following poem was written in his seventy-third year,
and is entitled
FEAR NOT DEATH.
"Why call we death to man a foe?
Why should we fear to die?
Does heavenly wisdom teach us so?
Let us the question try.
Is he of independent might?
Does he himself sustain?
These questions if we answer right,
Will make our subject plain.
See ye his scythe, his dart, his spear?
Who placed them in his hand?
Know this, and give the winds your fear;
Dauntless before him stand.
Death is a messenger of God,
And God is love, we know;
Nothing can come from him but good,--
No enmity can flow.
Death only comes when he is sent,
Commissioned from on high;
And all his weapons, too, are lent,--
Why fear we, then, to die?
Death comes, a friend to mortal man,
To set his spirit free;
Nor he, nor any creature, can
Reverse the blest decree.
Had death on us an evil eye,
Would he our pains remove,
And set our spirits free to fly
To peaceful realms above?
Teach not your children, parents dear,
To dread what God may send;
Nor fill their tender hearts with fear
Of Him who is their friend."
There is a lesson here that it would be well for us to remember, a
principle that should be planted and nurtured in our breasts. Death has
been too long looked upon as "the great enemy of our race," while it is
in truth but the calling home of the spirit by the Great Shepherd. 'Tis
but the wedding of the soul with Paradise, the starting post for heaven.
These were the sentiments entertained by Mr. Ballou, and which governed
his mind even to the last.
He says, relative to this deeply interesting and important subject to
us all:--"We are as pilgrims and strangers on earth, as were all our
fathers. The places which now know us will shortly know us no more. How
reasonable, then, is it, that we should often bring this great truth
under serious consideration! If duly considered, it will exert a
favorable influence in relation to the estimates we may make of all
temporal things, and give a favorable direction to our purposes and
determinations. Our fleshly bodies, like the grass of the earth, are
composed of the elements of nature; these elements support both the
grass and our fleshly bodies; and as the grass finally withers and
returns back from whence it came, is decomposed and joined with the
elements of which it was composed, so do our bodies return to the earth
from whence they came. Dust we are, and unto dust we must return. The
certainty of our mortality is as apparent to us all as it can possibly
be made. However seldom we may think on the subject, however we may
endeavor to put it out of our minds and thoughts, however we may
endeavor to drown the subject by devoting our attention to worldly
objects and worldly pursuits, we know that in a short time we must be
called to leave all this bustle of life, close our eyes on all earthly
things, and return to the bosom of our common mother, the earth, from
whence we came.
"As the question whether man should exist or not was not submitted to
him, no more is it left to him to say whether he will continue in this
state forever, or depart out of it. 'All flesh is as grass, and all the
glory of man as the flower of grass; the grass withereth, and the flower
thereof falleth away.' So hath the Creator appointed and ordained; and
it is not in the power of man to prevent this withering of the grass,
and this falling of the flower of grass. However endearing are the ties
of consanguinity, however tender and affectionate are kindred hearts
towards each other, with whatever longings and fond desires fathers and
mothers may look on their sons and daughters, and with whatever devotion
they may nourish these flowers and watch over them, they are altogether
like the grass and the flower of grass. They are perishable. It is not
in the power of children, however affectionately they may love their
fathers and mothers, and however they may desire the continuance of such
kind friends, to prevent that waste of constitution and strength which
time and disease are sure to bring. The whitened locks, the wrinkled
face, the tottering frame, the palsied limbs and faltering voice, are
sure indications that the time of departure is at hand.
"How wonderfully beautiful is the full-grown grass, with its blushing
and fragrant flowers! We cast our eyes over the luxuriant meadow; with
pleasure we behold its beautiful flowers, seeming to vie with each other
in glory; and though we may fancy a preference for this or for that, no
person ever beheld a blossom that was not beautiful to the eye. So we
behold the society of man in health and in the prime of strength; and
how pleasing is the sight! Look at these sweet babes! we may fancy a
preference for the beauty of this or that, but no one can help admiring
every such endearing object. Look around and behold the sparkling eye
and blushing cheek of youth and beauty; but remember these are flowers
gathered for the tomb! Whether we see them or not, Time has wings;
whether we realize it or not, his flight is rapid. What is time when it
is past? Nothing!"
"He taught us how to live, and O! too high
The 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.
So much sensation did this discourse create, that Mr. Ballou acceded to
the earnest solicitations that besieged him, and wrote it out for the
press, and it was published in pamphlet form. He remarked to us,
concerning the matter, that it was much harder for him to write it than
it would have been to have written two sermons from a given text, since
he had to _recall_ what he had spoken extempore weeks before. But this
was done so exactly as to create surprise in those who had listened to
it from the pulpit, for its correctness and likeness to the oral
delivery.
We subjoin a short sketch from this sermon, because it is so
characteristic of the spirit that actuated Mr. Ballou at all times; a
spirit of the utmost simplicity,--one of the striking peculiarities of
real genius,--both in his public teachings and private life, and also as
a specimen of his purity and force of style at this period of life. The
contrast drawn between the gospel of Christ and the polished creed of
the schools is striking and obvious.
"With all the pomp, with all the glory, with all the wealth, and all the
learning of the schools, among both Jews and Gentiles, let us, for a
moment, compare the simplicity that was in Christ. Born in a family
which was supported by mechanical labor, brought up in laborious habits,
destitute of wealth and the honors of the schools, he commenced his
public labors. To assist him in the ministry of his doctrine, a few
fishermen, and others of useful occupation, were chosen. The doctrine
which Jesus taught was as simple and easy to understand as the common
affairs of life. His sermon on the mount, containing the sublimest
beatitudes, and all the duties of life, requires but ordinary talents to
understand. His manner of teaching by the use of parables communicated
truth in the most simple manner. When he justified his favor to
publicans and sinners, of which he was accused by the Pharisees and
Scribes, how simple was his method! 'What man of you, having an hundred
sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in
the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it? and
when he hath found it he layeth it on his shoulder, rejoicing. And when
he cometh home, he calleth together his friends and neighbors, saying
unto them, Rejoice with me; for I have found my sheep which was lost.'
And how sublimely simple, if I may so say, was his application of his
parable! 'I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one
sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons,
which need no repentance.' On foot, see him travel from city to city!
Fatigued and weary of his journey, see him resting himself by Jacob's
well at Sichar; and mark the simplicity of his conversation with the
woman of Samaria! To set his disciples an example of humility, behold
him who gave sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, healing to the
sick, soundness to the maimed, and life to the dead, gird himself with a
towel, and wash their feet!
"How poorly has the simplicity which is in Christ been maintained by the
Christian church! Read its history, in which we learn its conformity to
such worldly institutions and customs as are pleasing to human ambition,
and all the vain pride and corruption which characterized pagan
idolatry. That subtilty with which the serpent beguiled Eve is
constantly at work, persuading us to seek to render religion popular in
the eyes of the world. That spiritual wickedness may be maintained in
high places, high places must be established and supported. So deeply
is the love of popular esteem rooted in the heart, that it is to be
feared many are inclined to concede to opinions and customs inconsistent
with their better judgment, for the sake of that shining phantom."
We remember an incident which occurred to Mr. Ballou in January of 1848,
which he related to us at the time. He had occasion to enter an omnibus
to proceed from one extreme of the city to another, when, having
scarcely become seated, an elderly woman, who was occupying a seat
immediately opposite, said to him,--"Mr. Ballou, do you not constantly
preach to your congregation, 'O ye generation of vipers! how can ye
escape the damnation of hell?'" Mr. Ballou turned his keen, piercing eye
upon her, and seeing that some bigoted and fanatical individual had
recognized him, and desired to commence an argument, replied,--"No,
madam; that class do not attend my church!" The woman had not
anticipated so decided an answer, and, shading her eyes with her hands,
contemplated the floor of the coach the remainder of the passage.
So little self-pride had Mr. Ballou, and so little comparatively did he
think or care about having any biographical sketch appear of him after
his death, that it was with the utmost difficulty that we persuaded him
to attempt a manuscript of even a few pages, that a more authentic
record might be preserved for the aid of the subject when it should be
taken in hand. But all that we were able to procure from him the reader
will find duly credited in these pages. Mr. Ballou had an ambition,
however, that his written works should be preserved after him; for in
them he had labored for the good of mankind, and he hoped those labors
might not prove unavailable. His wish was highly gratified, in this
respect, during his life, by the very wide circulation they attained,
and the numerous editions of them which were published, showing that
they were largely read and valued by the Christian world.
Having partially yielded to our reiterated solicitations for some few
pages of manuscript, if only relating to the simplest affairs, he sat
down, and commenced a sheet of paper in the same humorous vein in which
he was always sure to treat the idea of writing of himself. This
commencement was as follows:
"I have never learned that there were, before my birth, any prophecies
delivered by any one, or that any one had dreamed anything concerning
myself. If there happened, at the time of my birth, an earthquake, or
the appearance of a comet, or any other phenomenon of nature which
indicated anything relative to me, or signified what manner of person I
should become, in what employment my life should be spent, whether I
should become useful to society or a nuisance, the fact has never come
to my knowledge."
The life of Mr. Ballou is so intimately woven with the annals of
Universalism that the account of the one must be an almost complete life
of the other. He nursed the first dawn of belief in impartial and free
grace to all mankind, and lived to see the blessed doctrine grow and
spread over the land, like the day, from its breaking to the meridian.
He was the pioneer, the leader, the propagator, of Universalism.
During April, 1848, he visited and preached in Philadelphia, New York,
&c., and on his return expressed himself as he always did of the
brethren in those cities, and that he had been made most happy in his
communion with them.
About this period, an infatuated preacher of future punishment,
somewhere in the northern part of New York State, while in a high state
of excitement, declared to his audience that Universalists and Infidels
always renounced their belief before they died, and absolutely instanced
old Hosea Ballou, as he termed him, who had _lately_ died, penitent and
fully repentant for his evil life, entirely refuting all his former
belief, and praying to be saved from the wrath to come. Equally
ridiculous allusions were made to his wife, who was said to have showed
more consistency, and to have died stubbornly adhering to her old
principles. This ridiculous assertion was reported in a paper published
in the vicinity, and a copy marked and sent to Mr. Ballou.
We asked him if he had not better address a brief letter to the editor,
just to confound the propagator of the falsehood. "No," said he; "I have
learned, by experience, that libels, if neglected, are forgotten; if
resented, they too frequently pass for merited satire."
In the month of June, 1849, Mr. Ballou visited Troy, N. Y., for a few
weeks, and preached there and in the neighborhood, with his accustomed
vigor and mental power. His clear, musical tones of voice were as
perfectly modulated as ever, and his mental and physical vigor was the
occasion of remark by all who listened to him.
One of Mr. Ballou's latest impromptu efforts at versification was
elicited by a request for his autograph, by a young lady, who presented
her album for this purpose, and in which he wrote the following lines:
THE MAID I PRIZE.
"The maid I prize may not be one
Whose beauty dazzles vulgar eyes;
Those glowing folds 't were wise to shun,
Where death in hidden poison lies.
The maid I prize may not rely
On costly robes my heart to win;
The rose's blush, the lily's dye,
Can ne'er commend a breast of sin.
The maid I prize has tears for grief,
And soft compassion for the poor;
'Tis her delight to grant relief;
Where want resides she knows the door.
The maid I prize hath chosen that part
The golden Indies cannot buy;
And garnered in a pious heart
A treasure far above the sky."
As late as December, 1851, and January, 1852, Mr. Ballou passed five
weeks in the city of New York, preaching to the societies there
frequently three times of a Sabbath, and at conference meetings during
other days of the week. He was often called upon for lengthy remarks,
which he most cheerfully and heartily gave. He was never so happy, never
so well, as when engaged about his Master's business; and though, at
this age,--eighty-one,--his form was a little bent, and his step less
firm than of yore, yet in the pulpit he stood as erect as at fifty. His
whole soul seemed to dilate, and his firmness of voice and body to be
like iron; so much so, indeed, that it was usual to hear remarks to this
effect, from all quarters, wherever he appeared.
During this his last visit to New York, he wrote to us as follows:
"MATURIN: A kind Providence brought me safely hither in due course,
and I have already made several appointments and promises relative
to my services while I tarry here. As in years gone by, I find the
same cordial hospitality here, and brotherly love extended towards
me still. I need hardly say how grateful this is to my feelings. We
grow, perhaps, more sensitive, as we advance in age, as to these
little kindnesses and attentions, that unitedly go to make up the
quiet peace and happiness of private life.
"Our Heavenly Father has smiled upon the sacred cause in this
place, and the churches flourish here exceedingly. Even now I am
about to proceed to New Jersey, to dedicate a new temple, raised to
the service of the living God. To me, the increase of the
denomination with which I have so long been identified is a source
of peculiar satisfaction. My bodily health is fully as good as when
I left Boston; and, by the blessing of Divine Goodness, I trust
again to be at home in a brief period, to enjoy the society of
those near and dear to me. Please tell your mother to duly regard
her health, and remember me kindly to all the family.
"Affectionately,
"HOSEA BALLOU."
"After the singing of another anthem," says the correspondent of the
Trumpet, in a letter from Newark relative to the dedication referred to,
"came the sermon, by our venerable and beloved Father Ballou, from the
fitting words recorded in 1 Chron. 16: 29. The audience was not large,
but respectable in number; and from the first moments when the
gray-haired speaker stood up before the people till he sat down again,
the most marked and almost breathless attention was given. The speaker
believed that 'the name of the Lord' expressed all the attributes of His
adorable character. He proceeded to notice some of those attributes,
with wonderful power and simplicity, enforcing the truth that _goodness_
must be coextensive with _wisdom_ in the Divine character. He
illustrated the workings of the law of love, as opposed to the law of
fear, by the examples of the grateful offerings of our people to the
beloved Washington and Lafayette. The people honored them, not because
a terrible penalty was threatened should they refuse to yield the
tribute, but because they loved them. Worship, true worship, cannot be
_bought_; it must be _free_. It can be offered only to a God infinite in
goodness and mercy. Father Ballou affectionately exhorted the people to
give unto the Lord, in the neat temple they had reared, the glory so
justly due for all his revelations of good will to the children of men.
As children, filled with gratitude, should they come into his courts. A
severe, yet _kind_-spirited rebuke, was administered to those who go to
church simply to display fine apparel, or because it is fashionable. In
doing our duty, we are happy, we offer unto the Lord; while they who
serve fashion and popularity have just their reward, _and no more_.
"I have never listened to this aged servant of God with greater delight
and profit than on that occasion. It hardly seemed possible that so
clear, and forcible, and eloquent a production, could come from the
mouth of one who has borne the brunt of eighty-one years."
At the age of four score, Mr. Ballou preached before the New York
Convention of Universalists, at Boston, in September, 1851. Concerning
this occasion, Rev. A. C. Thomas, in the autobiography before quoted
from, says: "He (Mr. Ballou) is an exception to the 'labor and sorrow'
affirmed of those who, by reason of strength, attain that period of
life. He was, indeed, feeble in body; but 'his eye was not dim, nor his
natural force abated.' He saw as clearly as ever into the 'root of the
matter,' and largely exemplified his peculiar force of argumentation.
Was there ever a clearer or more forcible illustration than the one he
presented regarding a mother and her child?--'Your child has fallen into
the mire, and its body and its garments are defiled. You cleanse it, and
array it in clean robes. The query is, Do you love your child because
you have washed it, or did you wash it because you loved it?'"
Mr. Ballou's contributions to the press largely increased during the
latter years of his life, and the articles he wrote, at various times,
during this period, will bear the most critical examination, as it
regards the soundness of their doctrinal points, the excellence and
purity of their style, and the Christian spirit they invariably show
forth in every line. These contributions to the press have appeared
mainly in the "Trumpet and Universalist Magazine," the "Universalist
Quarterly," and the "Christian Freeman."
In 1851, at the solicitation of Rev. Mr. Usher, book publisher, Mr.
Ballou edited a collection of his sermons, and wrote some original
articles, which were published under the title of "A Voice to
Universalists." This book also contained a collection of Mr. Ballou's
fugitive verses, published many years since, and written for the poet's
corner of his paper. We can, perhaps, give no better review or reference
to this book, than by copying Rev. Thomas Whittemore's published review
of it, which we subjoin.
"The '_General Epistle to Universalists_' is itself worth the price of
the book. Tell us not that this might have been published in tract, or
any cheap form. It would never have served its mission thus to be read
and thrown away. It should have been where it is, in a large, splendid
book, to grace our centre-tables, and to be taken thence and read as
often as once a month.
"The same remarks may be made in relation to the '_Advice to Young Men
who design to enter the Ministry_.'
"The '_Short Essay on Universalism_,' '_The Doctrine of Universal
Salvation shown to be included in the Divine Commands_,' and '_The
Utility of Evil_,' are likewise valuable mementos of their author; and
so are the two _Convention Sermons_.
"And then, in respect to the metrical compositions, we could not spare
them from this book. True, the author, as he modestly says in a note to
the reader, makes no pretensions to being a poet; yet his poetry is to
us exceedingly precious. It is in this we discover more clearly the
moral likeness of the man. In the frontispiece we have a satisfactory
likeness of the outer man; and how should we consent to tear from the
book this no less accurate likeness of the soul? In these hymns we see
the author in his characteristic meekness of spirit, self-abasement,
pure and ardent devotion, and all-sustaining faith in the wise and
perfect government of God. Here, too, in these hymns and poems, are
specimens of the author's clearness and precision of intellectual
discernment, and his argumentative acumen. The work shall go down to
posterity as a memento of Father Ballou."
The article in this book entitled the "Utility of Evil" is one of great
power and force. Mr. Ballou's theory is, that what _we_ call evil does
not exist without the wise permission and appointment of the infinitely
good and gracious God. In the article on this subject he says:
"Reader, do not be offended at the title of this short article, and call
it impious. Will you say you never before heard that evil is useful?
Will you say the suggestion is wicked, and could be made by no other
than one who is wicked? Well, suppose all which you imagine be true, may
it not be well to be calm, and deliberately consider that, though you
have never before heard of this thing, it may, notwithstanding, be a
divine truth? If you will be candid, and bring your mind into a suitable
condition to be reasoned with, we will call you to the consideration of
questions which, if properly answered, will lead us into the true light
of our subject. 1st. Is evil self-existent? If no one will allow this,
there is no need of argument to disprove it. It follows, of course, that
evil had a cause which produced it; this is self-evident. 2d. Is it not
equally self-evident that the cause which produced evil is good? If we
say that the cause which produced evil was evil, we thereby say that
evil existed before it existed! When these several points are
understood, we are prepared to state the following axioms:
"1st. That which had no beginning had no cause to produce it. 2d. If we
should say that good had an origin or a cause, We should be compelled to
say that that cause was evil! 3d. If we allow that evil had an origin or
cause, we must allow that the origin of evil is good." pp. 115, 116.
From the commencement of 1852 until within a week of his death, we find
him constantly active, with the weight of fourscore years and more; yet
he never for a moment faltered in his mission. During the last year of
his life he preached in seven different states, and in about forty
different places. His pen was still as busy as ever. One Sunday found
him in Maine, the next in New Hampshire, the third in Vermont; now he is
in New York, New Jersey, or Rhode Island, preaching the word with
unabated zeal and surprising effect in all directions. The copy of the
Trumpet that announces his death contains two articles from his pen,
commending to the order two lately published biographies, showing forth
as illustrations of what a true and noble aim will empower the soul to
do amid the humblest circumstances, one of the strongest illustrations
of which is his own life. His last paragraph reads thus: "We need not
look forward to the good time, for it is now come, when ministers are
esteemed for their knowledge of divine truth, and their ardent love for
the same, together with their faithfulness in dispensing it to the
people, and their living and walking in the precepts of Jesus." At the
time of his death he had two appointments already arranged, one in
Massachusetts and one in New Hampshire, besides several under
consideration.
"Verily, he was at his post to the last," says Rev. T. B. Thayer, in his
eulogy upon Mr. Ballou; "and when the messenger came, he was ready. He
fell in the full armor of God, with the helmet of salvation on his head,
his spotless heart covered with the breastplate of righteousness, his
feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace. In one hand he
held the shield of faith, and in the other the sword of the spirit,
which is the word of God,--the sword which he had for sixty years
wielded with such success in his multiplied battles with error and sin,
and by which at last he was, through Jesus Christ, made conqueror, and
more than conqueror, over death and the grave. Verily, the old man died,
as he had lived, faithful, courageous, serene, victorious, to the last."
It was in these ripened days of his experience that his counsel was
eagerly sought by all, laity and clergy, in private and in public. His
activity and anxiety to be about his Master's business carried him
constantly into the midst of all important denominational assemblies;
and here he was ever received, both his presence and his counsel, with
profound respect. If there was contention, misunderstanding, or
difficulty of any sort, all eyes were turned upon him who sat so quietly
and thoughtfully in their midst; he was their peace-maker, his calm
voice stilled the tempest, his finger pointed the way towards the
right. As Mr. Thayer says in the eulogy just quoted from:
"It will be a long time before we shall get accustomed, in our
associations and conventions, to the absence of that venerable form,
those gray hairs, and that voice of wisdom, and gentleness, and love,
which came like oil on the troubled waters of debate, and drew out the
entangled threads of thought, and by quaint queries, by questions which
answered themselves, questions plainer than most men's answers,
penetrated to the heart of every subject, and showed us, as by a flash
of light, the exact point where the truth lay. We shall often desire in
our councils his presence, his clear thought, his persuasive language,
his gentleness of manner, and his conclusive logic."
Mr. Ballou had a most remarkable faculty of seeing through any abstruse
question or subject that came up for discussion before any body with
which he was sitting in fellowship, and could at once seem to set all
right in their midst, by a few shrewdly-uttered words. Another brother
has said of him in this respect:
"It was wonderful how he would put the needle in amid the tangled skein
of reasonings, in a debate, and untie the knot just where the whole
might be wound off without any difficulty; and how he would hold to the
essential point in an important discussion, and dissipate every
obscuration that threatened to darken and eclipse it, was astonishing,
and showed where his power as a master reasoner lay. Such was the man."
We must now turn from these desultory remarks and references, to
describe the end of his earthly mission.