"After my labors on this rainy Sabbath, I found myself much exhausted, and was sensibly unwell. My friends were kind and attentive to me, and the worn-out servant was well provided for. On Wednesday a respectable merchant of Richmond brought me in his carriage to the depot in Fitzwilliam. By aid of Divine Providence I arrived the same day at Lancaster, where I found my wife and our family connections in good health, and my own somewhat improved.

Thanks be to G.o.d for all his mercies!

"HOSEA BALLOU."

With other numerous calls upon his time and attention, and in addition to his never-ceasing professional and parochial labors, Mr. Ballou has had at various times over _twenty_ ministerial students, who, for the time being, generally became residents of his family, and who studied the profession with him. To these young men he devoted his powers with the same untiring zeal that characterized his other professional labors.

His mode of instruction with these students was peculiar; he went with them always, to use one of his favorite phrases, "to the root of the matter," and was never content until he had imbued their minds with at least a portion of the realizing sense he himself experienced relative to all the main points of the faith he advocated. His words of advice to them were few, but they were just what each one needed, and no more. He was never fulsome with them, but complimented when it was deserved, checked when it was necessary, and suggested when improvements might be made, but ever inculcating those Christian qualities which shone forth as a burning light in his own loveliness of character. Nearly all of those students are now teachers of the gospel of Christ, men honored for their Christian spirit, and as true disciples of the gospel. Most of these are settled in the New England States; and, as we write, we easily recall the names of numbers who are much respected and beloved by the denomination to which they belong.

In the instruction and guidance of so large a number of candidates for the sacred calling of the ministry, he a.s.sumed a very weighty addition to his constant labors. We have seen that his parochial, ministerial, scholastic and editorial duties, were exceedingly onerous, and many would have shrunk from the idea of adding to such an acc.u.mulation of labors. But it was a principle of Mr. Ballou's life never to neglect a single opportunity of serving the great and sacred cause in which he had embarked; he felt the full force of his mission, and to it he was constantly ready to devote every energy of his physical and mental nature, every moment of his time, looking to the source of all power for the strength and inspiration necessary to sustain him in his task.

Among those who felt a vocation to preach the word of G.o.d, there was an earnest desire to pursue its study under the guidance of one who was the father and oracle of the creed they had espoused. They felt that, transmitted through other mediums, many of the rays of light that beamed from his original mind must necessarily be lost; they sought to derive directly from him the clear instructions, the vigorous reasoning, the straightforward mode of investigation, which distinguished him. They wished to be near him, to follow his example in everything pertaining to a Christian's duty. As to himself, he was never so happy as when imparting instruction to those who really desired and sought it. His inquiring and intelligent spirit constantly sympathized with minds of kindred stamp, nor did he ever lose his warm sympathies for youth. With the motto _progress_ inscribed upon his banner, he was at heart and in soul as much with the young as the h.o.a.ry-headed. The child-like simplicity of his nature brought ardent youth very near to his vigorous and green old age, harmonizing the two extremes in a wonderful manner.

In biographical writing there is often an obvious and studied obscurity in regard to some certain portion of the subject's life. The reason for such a course, on the part of the author, is very plain; for there are few public men, who are deemed worthy the notice of a biographical record, who do not look back with regret, and often with deep mortification, to some heedless act of early life;--some deed wherein the laws of right and wrong have been disregarded, and honorable and upright principles trampled under foot; some thoughtless moment, when the tempter has found them with their armor off, and has led them into contact with evil that has pierced their defenceless bodies, and left there scars deep and rankling, as monuments of the frailty of their nature. In reference to this subject as it relates to Mr. Ballou, there is not one hour of his life which will not bear the scrutiny of strict justice. From his very boyhood he was remarkable for firmness of principle, and unwavering integrity of purpose. Had he a personal enemy in the world, that person could not point to a single act of his life that it would not give us pleasure to chronicle here!

We know that this is saying much, and that the reader will be apt to look back and re-read the last pa.s.sage; but, while we write this strong language, we wish to be understood as doing so in all calmness and judgment; each word, as written, is duly set down and abided by. Now, we humbly ask, how many are there, among those to whom the world accords the meed of greatness, that can have this language applied to them and their characters in truth? I do not mean to signify that there are no such men; but to say--and the experience and personal knowledge of all will bear testimony to the fact--that such cases are very rarely found in this every-day world.

When we go back and consider Mr. Ballou's early life, the very limited means he enjoyed of mental cultivation, and all the vicissitudes through which he has pa.s.sed, and contrast this view of his life with the station which he ultimately filled, and consider the works of his pen and mind, we are led to remember that it has ever been the fate of genius to climb the rugged steeps of fame and honor under the greatest disadvantages; that the brightest gems the exploring mind has brought from the caves of knowledge have been wrought, before they were given to the world, with the poorest means, and the least available tools. It is the circ.u.mstance of those very disadvantages that has elicited more mental diamonds than all the schools and richly-endowed inst.i.tutions in the world.

Though the difficulties and impediments that thus environ the path of genius seem like a heavy stone about the neck, yet they are very often like the stones used by the hardy pearl-divers, which enable them to reach their prize, and to rise enriched. Adversity is to genius what the steel is to the flint,--the fire concealed in the one is brought out only by contact with the other. "Hard is the task," says Coleridge, "to climb into the niches of Fame's proud temple; rough and cold is the road; but rougher and stronger than the rocks that strew it are the men who toil over it. Up they climb from the cottages and lowly homes of the world; over Alps and Alps do they stride, heaving the millstone of persecution from their towering heads, and bursting into the sunshine of glory, despite of all that circ.u.mstances could do to keep them down."

The experience of all mankind shows that nothing great can be accomplished without labor. The original difference between men who have achieved greatness, and those who have died in obscurity, is, perhaps, after all, very inconsiderable; but the same ideas which in the latter died in their birth for want of culture, in the former, fostered, sustained and developed, by a.s.siduous labor, flourished, and produced both flower and fruit. Uncultivated genius is a melancholy spectacle; it is like the light of a shooting star, brilliant, flashing, but evanescent, dazzling the eye for a moment, and then sinking into outer darkness; while cultivated genius, blazing with a steady, constant and pure flame, dispenses a surer and vivifying warmth far around it,--its light is not that of the meteor, but the planet. All history and all experience go to show that the bane of genius is not adversity, but prosperity. It was not Alpine toils, but "Capuan delights," that decimated the ranks of Hannibal's army, and wasted them away; it is not the cold north wind, but the genial sunshine, that destroys the mighty avalanche. The soul of genius, like the iron of the mine, must undergo the ordeal of fire, ere it can become steel. We might quote many examples of history to prove that this is a universal law of our nature.

It is true that some have achieved greatness when their worldly circ.u.mstances were easy and affluent; but in such cases the gift of genius has been accompanied by a mental organization which imposed internal struggles, and hence the rule may be said to be without exceptions.

Books, thoughts, deeds, imperishable memorials of their author, so laboriously accomplished, do not die with the body. No; a thought once expressed never dies;--it must exert its influence, and be the pioneer to many more. Like the gentle ripple upon a calm, placid lake, it starts upon the world a speck, but ceases not to expand its force until it reaches over all extent. Man does not die with the body; as the soul shall live forever, so does the influence he has exerted upon society live after him, and by that influence is he judged. Is not this thought in itself a strong incentive to virtue and well-doing? What man or woman is there, however humble be their sphere of action, but desires most earnestly to leave behind a good and honored name?

An ancient maxim avers that "spoken words fly away, but written ones are permanent." But modern science teaches us that no sound uttered by the lips of man is lost,--that the vibration of the air bears it onward and onward, through all time. How very few there are in this world whose words, written and spoken, are so considered that they are willing to have them consigned to immortality! How few whose utterance of a year old will bear the test of their own judgment! There are moments of existence, generally the closing ones, when all our words and deeds crowd back upon the memory with overwhelming force. There are records of men in seasons of extreme casualties, who have testified to the painful accuracy of memory under such imminent circ.u.mstances; and there are few, indeed, who so shape their lives as to be enabled to bear with equanimity a retrospective glance on the panorama of their existence. So to have lived that, in ceasing to live, they have no reason to blush for their existence, as it regards the daily duty of the Christian.--Alas! in seasons of trial and temptation this duty is often, very often, forgotten; the way-side of life is strewn thick with temptations and allurements to win us from the straight and narrow path.

Fruits of golden promise tempt the hand to pluck them, and it is only after tasting that we discover them to be only dust and ashes, like those which grow on the fated sh.o.r.es of the Dead Sea. Happy, then, and worthy of all reverence, is he whose unwavering course through life has ever been onward and upward. The summit gained, whence both the promised land and that of his earthly pilgrimage are in view, he can turn back and say, as his vision embraces the line which his feet have trod so toilsomely, yet ever so cheerfully:--"I have held that path without variation; no temptation has seduced my footsteps to the right or to the left, nor have my lips uttered aught upon that journey which a wish, in this trying moment, would recall!"

There have been, at various times, and in different works, short biographical sketches of Mr. Ballou's life given, from various pens;--these, of course, contemplate only his public career, and are quite brief. In the third volume of the Universalist Miscellany, published in 1846, there appear the following remarks from the pen of the editor, which we subjoin. After giving a short account of his public career, the writer of the sketch referred to goes on to say:--

"We have not time, even if we had the ability, to give a just description of him as a man, a Christian, and a preacher. We will not, however, permit the occasion to pa.s.s without offering a word on each of these points.

"We presume no one was ever more highly beloved and truly respected by his acquaintances than Mr. Ballou. Pleasant in his disposition, and honest in his dealings, he has uniformly enjoyed their confidence and esteem. Though he always sustains a becoming dignity of character, and is never light or trifling, he has a pleasantry and shrewdness which render his company peculiarly agreeable.

"As a Christian, Mr. Ballou is firm in faith, and catholic in spirit.

While he believes with undoubting confidence what he preaches, and has no respect for what he considers error in doctrine, he never manifests a want of kindness towards those of an opposite faith. We are aware that many entertain a different feeling; but they misjudge him. It is true that for the insincere and hypocritical he has no feeling; and, if he had, he would not be faithful to his ministry.

"As a preacher, Mr. Ballou, for clearness of conception and power of argument, has few, if any, superiors. We have often heard him preach with an unction and power that we have never heard surpa.s.sed. But we do not design, in this article, to speak at length of his qualities as a preacher.

"No man ever enjoyed the respect of our denomination more than does Mr.

Ballou. He is cordially loved and esteemed by all who believe in the salvation of the world."

These remarks are valued the more highly as coming from one who was intimate with the subject of this biography for a long period, and also as a fair and unprejudiced tribute to his character and life by a brother-laborer in the vineyard of Christ. The number of the Miscellany which contains the remarks we have quoted is embellished by a mezzotint likeness of Mr. Ballou, from a painting by E. H. Conant, and engraved in the finest style of art by Sartain. This picture, however, is inferior, as to likeness, to many others which are preserved of him.

We conceive the following, from the pen of the venerable and beloved Father Streeter, the oldest minister in the Universalist denomination now among us, to be of great interest; the work in hand would be quite incomplete without it. It is the impression of a faithful brother concerning the deceased, from the commencement to the close of his professional career.

"I first saw Father Ballou a short time before the commencement of his public ministry. It was in the town of Vernon, then called Hinsdale, in the State of Vermont. At that time there was but one open and decided Universalist in the place. This solitary champion of the common salvation had long been impressed with a desire to have the gospel of the grace of G.o.d, in the fulness of its universality, preached to those of his neighbors who might feel disposed to give it a hearing. An arrangement was at length made with the Rev. David Ballou, an elder brother, to deliver a lecture in the place.

"The day was designated, and due notice of the meeting given. At the appointed time the preacher came, and Hosea came with him. He was then a tall, slim young man, with an aspect, however, which indicated profound thought, and a deep solemnity of feeling. In his general appearance there was a marked peculiarity, a certain something which arrested and fixed the attention, and which impressed the beholder with the conviction that no ordinary individual was before him,--that the germs of eminence, the genuine elements of intellectual greatness, were embodied within him.

"Such, at any rate, was the impression among the more inquisitive and discriminating who attended that meeting. At the close of the sermon, Hosea gave an exhortation, and offered the concluding prayer; and this effort was spoken of, especially by the less conservative and bigoted, as one of rare spirituality and power. It became the topic of general remark, and of high encomium.

"The next day, if I mistake not, he made his first attempt as a preacher of the everlasting gospel, as a public advocate of the sublime doctrine of the salvation of all men 'by the blood of the cross.' It was, as I have often heard him say, a partial failure.

The exordium went off very well; but, as he proceeded with the discussion, he often hesitated, now and then came to a pause, and was finally obliged to sit down before he had reached the original design of the discourse.

"He was deeply mortified. He was discouraged. He resolved to abandon all thoughts of the ministry. He felt himself utterly incompetent to the efficient discharge of its high and momentous duties. His friends, however, interfered in the premises. They succeeded in changing his purpose. They persuaded him to persevere in the work of a Christian minister, and it was not long before he made his second attempt at sermonizing. The effort succeeded. It was a complete triumph. The manner in which he acquitted himself was a matter of deep astonishment to his friends, and to all who heard him. In that meeting his lofty and invaluable career finds its legitimate date. It was followed by no faltering, no irresolution, no shrinking from toil, however laborious, or however wearing to the physical frame or to the mental powers.

"He soon became immensely popular. His fame went forth as on the wings of every wind. From all quarters, far and near, the Macedonian cry, 'Come over and help us,' poured in upon him. These calls, so far as it was possibly practicable, were promptly and cheerfully honored. His labors, of course, became exceedingly abundant,--almost, indeed, without intermission. By day and by night he was found at his post, and zealously doing his great work.

"He frequently held meetings in the town where he was born and brought up, and in nearly all the towns in that region. His circuits often embraced some hundreds of miles, and in making them he preached almost every day, and not unfrequently several times in a day; and wherever it was generally known that he was to hold forth, immense crowds rarely failed to be present, that they might listen to his testimony. Though a mere youngster, I myself once walked, or rather ran, eight miles and back, to hear him. The news of the meeting did not reach me till somewhat late on Sabbath morning, and no mode of conveyance to the place could be obtained.

I was, of course, reduced to the necessity of either losing that rare spiritual treat, or of making my way to it on what Mr. Murray used to call 'apostolical horses;' in other words, on foot. And so great was my anxiety not to lose a word that might fall from his lips, that I forgot to take with me a crumb of anything for a lunch, and so I lost my dinner; or, rather, I had to make it on the sermon and the prayers which I had heard, and it was truly one of the most luscious meals which it has ever been my good fortune to eat. It was devoured with a high relish.

"The subject of these remarks was the youngest of five brothers, three of whom were preachers; and I once had the privilege of attending a meeting at which four of them, with the venerable father, were present. Hosea was the preacher. He seemed to have made special preparation to meet the peculiarities of the occasion.

Contrary to his usual custom, the sermon was written. At the proper time he commenced its delivery. The old father--himself a Baptist clergyman of considerable note--and the elder brothers, were seated around him.

"He was not familiar with the use of a ma.n.u.script, and, of course, to read from one he found to be a new and somewhat awkward business. For a little time, however, he persevered in the effort.

The experiment was far from being satisfactory either to himself or to the congregation. In spite of him, the eye would quit its hold upon the contents of the paper, and wander about among the dense ma.s.ses who filled the seats below. These excursions caused him to lose his place. He often found it again with no little difficulty, and sometimes not without a most vexatious delay.

"At length his patience gave out. Its power of endurance was completely exhausted, and, taking up the ma.n.u.script and rolling it between his hands, he deliberately put it in his pocket.

'Brethren,' said he, 'I shall weary your patience with these notes.' This was the end of all hesitancy. He proceeded in the discussion of his subject with his accustomed fluency, and everything flowed onward with the smoothness of oil. It was a season of deep and thrilling interest.

"The venerable father, though not a Universalist, and with no disposition to become one, listened to the arguments and ill.u.s.trations of this youngest of his sons with the profoundest attention. I carefully watched the muscles of his face, and plainly saw that mighty emotions were stirring within him. Every now and then a large tear would start out from the eye, and course down the furrows in his time-worn and manly cheek. It is not strange that such should have been the case, for the discourse was one of peculiar tenderness, and of uncommon pathos and power. Probably it was rarely, if ever surpa.s.sed, even by the speaker himself, in the palmiest days of his ministry.

"Indeed, Father Ballou's pulpit powers were of an exceedingly high order. Taken as a whole, my impression is that I have never known his equal. Never have I seen a man who could hold his hearers so perfectly under his own control. They were entirely at his command.

He clothed them in smiles, or melted them to tears, and these things he seemed to do at pleasure. This power embodies the chief component in true eloquence. We often refer, and with profound admiration, to the pulpit talents of Griffin and Beecher, of Channing, and Dewey, and Chapin. And to these men the meed of rare eloquence unquestionably belongs; but still, taken all in all, they fall far below the standard of Father Ballou. Theirs is an eloquence of another and a humbler type. They deal chiefly with the intellect,--with the demands of a literary and refined taste; he dealt more especially with the latent chords of the heart,--moved and controlled the deeper sympathies and more refined affections of the human soul. Relying but little upon books, he went princ.i.p.ally upon the profundity and strength of his own resources. The structure of his mind approached very near to an actual intuition.

He grasped the whole of a subject at a glance. His powers of a.n.a.lysis were prodigious, and singularly accurate. He stopped not to inquire what others had thought or done. He examined every subject for himself. Like the diver for pearls, he plunged to the depths of divine truth; and, when he had found a precious gem, he rose with it to the surface, held it up before the eyes of the people, and said to them, This belongs to you, and there are more of the same sort where I found it,--enough for you all, and for the millions of the race to which you belong.

"But it was not in the office of a Christian minister, merely, that Father Ballou excelled. He was admirable in every sphere of life.

As a husband and a father, the head of a numerous family, he was truly a model man. He knew how to rule his own household. His word was law, and obedience to it was prompt and cheerful by all around him. There were no family jars in that well-ordered and happy home.

The idea, perhaps, is an extravagant one, but I have often thought that his house was the nearest fac-simile of the great mansion of the Infinite Father on High of which I could form a conception.

"And then as a brother and a friend he had no superior. With the exception, perhaps, of some members of his own family, there is no one living who enjoyed so long and so intimate an acquaintance with him as myself; and it is one of the happiest reflections of my life, that, in all our intercourse, not a single unkind word or emotion ever pa.s.sed between us.

"Indeed, I never knew his kindly regards mastered but once, and that was after the endurance of many gross and most cruel provocations. But on one occasion his philosophy and his religion failed him, and then his brow was mantled with the very majesty of wrath, the frowning aspect of a deep and withering indignation. The roll of a moment or two, however, and it was all over. The old saint was himself again, and never, from that time to the day of his death, did I ever hear him utter an unfriendly word in relation to the individual by whom he had been so grossly and wickedly abused. But I must not enlarge. I have no wish to deal in flattery; but, injustice to my own feelings, and to the memory of our departed father, I must say that he was one of the very best men with whom it has been my happiness to a.s.sociate. Indeed, I doubt whether he had a solitary failing,--so far, I mean, as the convictions and purposes of his own mind were concerned.

"S. S."

CHAPTER XIV.

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."