Biography of Rev. Hosea Ballou

by Maturin M. Ballou

BECOMES A SETTLED MINISTER.

The first place in which Mr. Ballou engaged permanently as a settled minister was in the town of Dana, Mass., in 1794-5. The society here, not feeling able to pay for an engagement which should occupy him the whole time, engaged him for a portion, leaving him to supply the societies in Oxford and Charlton, Mass., also, a portion of the time. Having now become located, and his residence known, large numbers of people from a distance gathered to hear him, not only on the Sabbath, but frequently for several consecutive days of the week besides. Many there were who held his doctrine to be such damning heresy that they counted it a sin even to listen to it; while others of his religious opponents, holding that "there is no error so crooked but it hath in it some lines of truth," came and listened, and the seed not unfrequently fell into good soil, bringing forth a hundred fold.

"Often was I greeted at this time," says Mr. Ballou, "by people who would say, 'Sir, I heard you preach a sermon, a few weeks since, from such a text,' naming it, 'and I have been uneasy and anxious in my mind ever since. If your doctrine is true, I must understand and believe it. But, alas! I fear it is too good to be true; it is so different from what I have been brought up to believe that I cannot divest my mind of early prejudices sufficiently to receive it, though Heaven knows how gladly I could do so.' Then the individual would quote some passages of scripture which seemed to him to be insuperable objections to the doctrine I professed, and I would do all in my power to explain these passages to his mind, in the way I had myself already learned to interpret them. Usually, with the blessing of Divine Providence, I was successful, at least in a large degree, and on the following Sabbath I was pretty sure to find the honest seeker after truth among my congregation, and the following Sabbath he would be there again, attentively listening to the word, until, finally, he came forth and openly espoused the blessed doctrine of God's impartial grace. Thus encouraged with the growth of the seed that I strewed by the way-side, my task was a grateful one to my soul, and I was constantly gladdened by the visible fruits of my efforts in disenthralling men's minds of the dogmas and blind creeds that early prejudice and the schools had inculcated."

Let it be borne in mind that at this period he was preaching Universalism on the principle of the final restoration of the whole human family, not having satisfied himself yet that there would be no punishment in a future state of existence, or, indeed, ever thought upon this subject to any great extent. Owing to the very trifling amount of his remuneration from the society in Dana, while he resided there, besides tilling a small portion of land, he was obliged to keep school during the week, and this engagement was often broken into for lecture purposes. His keeping and teaching school was a benefit to him beyond the pecuniary consideration he received, inasmuch as it familiarized him with many branches of an English education which he would perhaps otherwise never have acquired, or at least not nearly so thoroughly as he did by this means.

Uninfluenced by the sneers of his opposers, and the poor remuneration he received for the preaching of his belief, he never for one moment wavered in a steadfast purpose, even at this early period, to preach Christ and him crucified, and the unsearchable riches of God's goodness. In this connection we are reminded of the remarks of the editor of the New Covenant, Chicago, Ill., who, in his obituary notice of the decease of Mr. Ballou, says:—

"But now we are called to mourn the departure of one who, when our cause had scarcely a name to live,—when it was the subject of the sneer of the bigot, as well as of the profane curse of the irreligious, and even its warmest friends scarcely dared to hope for its resurrection to honor and respect,—bent the energy of a giant mind to a life-long defence and promulgation of the truth,—by his unanswerable arguments turned the sneer of bigotry into a smile of hope, and the curses of the profane into blessings,—of one who has done more in this age for the liberalizing of religious sentiment than all his contemporaries combined. Strong in the faith he preached, and steadfastly believing it must at last triumph, from early youth to mature old age he has kept on his armor and fought the good fight of faith, and death even found him at his post as a faithful sentinel, and in the midnight hour he could answer, 'All is well!'"

At the age of twenty-five, and while resident in the town of Dana, he became acquainted with the family of Stephen Washburn, in the town of Williamsburg, Mass., and, after an intimate acquaintance of about a year, he married their youngest daughter, Ruth Washburn, who was some eight years younger than himself. His wife, like her husband, had been brought up to habits of industry and economy; she proved a kind, constant, and devoted help-mate through his entire life, sharing with him every joy and every burthen, and, by the influence of a naturally strong and well balanced mind, a cheerful and gentle disposition, exercising a most goodly influence upon his life and labors. She became the careful and prudent mother of a large family, nine of whom lived to rear families themselves during the life of their parents. Through their whole lives there was a remarkable oneness of feeling, and a depth of affection evinced by each for the other, that years served only to increase, and old age to cement the more closely. But of this matter we may yet speak more fully.

Mr. Ballou resided in the town of Dana for about seven years, devoting every spare hour to careful study of the Scriptures, systematizing his time by a careful division of the hours of the day, and permitting himself but a very brief portion of time for sleep.

When we say that he devoted his time so assiduously to study, we do not mean that he occupied himself in the perusal of books alone. He thought much, communed with himself alone, and even at that period accustomed himself to a degree of inward or mental communion with himself, that would seem to exclude the world about him, for the time being, from his sense of seeing or hearing. This was more observable in later years, when he often sat long in his study thus, sometimes with his eyes closed, sometimes with their pupils directed to the floor or the ceiling of the room, his lips moving, and at last, having seemingly weighed well some important matter, he would rouse again as if from a trance, and look about him with apparent satisfaction at the result he seemed to have accomplished. Sometimes these moments were followed by the use of the pen for records in his note-book of texts and sermon heads, sometimes by a reference to the Scriptures, and sometimes by a walk in the open air; then his lips would be seen to move, and he would be quite oblivious to all outward circumstances. He studied thus, carefully and deeply. At times he would walk in the fields or the woods while thus occupied; and the family never disturbed him by any remarks, or by calling his attention, while he was thus mentally absorbed. In another part of this biography, reference will be found concerning this peculiarity, as exhibited at a later period of his life, and observed by one who was an inmate of his family, and a student of divinity with him. The family were accustomed to his mood in these matters, but it usually affected a stranger, or one not familiar with him, in quite an impressive and solemn manner; it seemed so much as though he was communing with unseen spirits, and a power that was invisible to those about him or to himself, save through the powers of his mental vision.

It would seem that the little bodily rest which he allowed himself at this period must have induced physical debility; and yet it did not appear to do so. In travelling, a large portion of his short journeyings were made in the evening; sometimes at midnight even, and often before the break of day, in order to fulfil necessary appointments without encroaching upon his arrangements at home. When stopping for his horse to take rest and food, himself much fatigued, he would take his watch from his pocket, and, laying it upon a table near some place where he could find a recumbent position, he would carefully mark the time, and say distinctly to himself, "I will sleep now for just one hour, when I must awake and go on." Singular as this may seem, he has told us that he never failed to awake at the expiration of the hour, and, much refreshed, he would mount his horse and press on to fill some professional engagement, perhaps twenty or thirty miles from the stopping-place. At other times, while his horse was eating, he would deliver a sermon, and, having completed it, would, without stopping for any physical refreshment for himself, start off once more on his mission.