OUTLINES OF CHARACTER.
Character, as distinguished from reputation, is what we are
intrinsically in moral and mental worth. Our reputations are only the
various verdict of society concerning us. Our characters are our fixed
value for time and eternity. They are our worth also in word and in
deed, for these are mighty or weak through the spiritual power that lies
back of them, from which they receive their kindling force and
inspiration. Character substantially is the end of life, the purpose of
nature, Providence, revelations, trial, conscience, and temptation. The
universe came from it, reveals it, and strives, through all its
teachings and influences, to reproduce it in man. The worship of God,
and the various reverence which centres in man, at once resolve
themselves into the supreme worth for which the word character stands as
a sign. This, then, is the true centre of all biography, that into which
the whole life is merged, and by which it may be judged. These few
pages, therefore, will aim to sketch, though it may be imperfectly, the
main features in the character of Joseph Badger.
When I approach this subject, I am at once struck by the originality and
marked distinctions of what I am to examine; and, though the naturalness
and simplicity which ever shone in his language and manner might seem to
promise an easy task, a longer study dissipates the hope, and leaves the
lasting impression that a mind and character like his were never
truthfully and fully expressed in a few words, and certainly they were
never known by mere passing acquaintance or superficial observation. He
was a man of manifold nature, was strong in many directions. He had
depths unseen by ordinary acquaintance or by ordinary observation; and
to fully interpret one whose inward life was so much of it veiled from
the world's gaze, whose power of character was in itself so complex and
diverse, requires analytical patience and faithful study. I would not
intimate by this that it is invested in dark and impenetrable clouds of
mystery; for not a few of his traits are, under almost any
circumstances, plainly discernible, those, indeed, which served to
render the hours of sociality agreeable and entertaining to all. His
quick and clear perception, his calm balance of power, who would not at
once discover? But it is the quality of greatness that the manifold
qualities involved do not admit of a thorough comprehension except at
the cost of time and care. That Joseph Badger was by nature a great man,
that, in the sphere of his action, he was so by effects produced, it is
presumed that none will be at all likely to deny. Persons who could read
God's handwriting of ability in the forms and features of men, or in the
discourse and action by which superiority is indicated, were never
disposed to place him in the rank of ordinary gifts and powers. A few
may have said that no book can add to their knowledge of him; that, for
years, they have listened to his sermons; have mingled in his society at
their firesides; that they know him entirely. This conclusion we do not
unqualifiedly accept. It is our impression that few persons on the
earth, in the profoundest sense, knew Joseph Badger. Beyond what they
had observed lay much more in unseen repose.
The free and more airy moods of mind with which he usually met his
friends and mingled in society, though combined with real dignity of
manner, were calculated, in some degree, to give the impression of
entire acquaintance to those who could penetrate but a small distance
beneath the apparent. But there were sober depths underlying the
vivacity and social joy of his presence. In company, it is true, he
commonly avoided the introduction and discussion of weighty themes,
those requiring continuity of thought, choosing rather to converse on
matters of immediate care and interest. He spoke truthfully when he once
said to a friend, "I have three moods of mind; one that may be _light_
and _airy_, one of _common_ seriousness, and one of very _deep_
seriousness." They who judge him only from the first do not, cannot know
him; yet is it not more common for people to judge from the surface than
from the deeper soul of one's life? The former is easily seen; the
latter requires attention. Luther and Franklin were humorous men; but
those who would know them must look to the depths over which their humor
played.
As the physical man is, by usual consent, the basis of that higher self,
in which character, as to its greater meanings, resides, it may be
worthy of recollection that the bodily constitution and temperament of
Mr. Badger were well adapted to power and excellence of intellect. His
constitution, though of fine quality, was naturally very strong and
vigorous; the different temperaments commingled in it, the sanguine or
arterial taking the lead. With this, there was a full degree of the
nervous or intellectual temperament, which imparted much mental
activity; with these, there was a measure of the bilious and lymphatic,
which, according to the usual explanations of modern science, give
endurance, calmness and ease, supplying the wasting activities with
support. In early life, Mr. Badger was tall and spare in figure; about
middle age, and after, he was more portly; and, at all times, his
personal appearance was noble, commanding, and prepossessing. His
likeness, facing the title-page of this volume which represents him at
the age of forty-two, gives a very good idea of his intellectual
expression, with the exception that his brain was of a larger cast, and,
in after life, his features and form were more full than they appear in
this representation.
The intellect of Mr. Badger was great, especially so in the use of
practical perception. His perceptive ability was indeed immense. In
seeing through character, motives, and events; in looking at a new
movement in the moral world, or at any practical enterprise, he had
great, sudden perceptions of the reality before him, on which he formed
his conclusions and acted. His mind was quick; his opinions were not
usually formed in slow processes, but were very comprehensive, very
exact, and when the final results came round, no man's former words
sounded so much like certain prophecy in the quotation as his. His mind
was richly intuitive in these respects. He readily and closely saw the
strong points of every case.
His reasoning intellect was strong and clear, and when awakened was full
of power. But thought, in its most abstract form, was not his forte. He
could appreciate it, and estimate its value accurately in others, could
use it himself; but it was truth, having a direct bearing upon, and
demonstrations in, the world of practice, that roused his energies and
delightfully employed his powers. He was American. The form of his mind
was not, perhaps, exactly philosophical, was not largely given to seek
out the laws which pervade the facts of nature and of life, to treasure
up universal principles; but he could rapidly work his way into the
reality of any cause that it might interest him to know. He readily saw
important principles. His mind was creative. He could originate and
execute with great skill and dexterity; the former of these functions,
however, was, in our opinion, his most favorite work. He often liked to
produce and direct the plan for others to carry into effect. His
acquaintance with human nature, as it appears in the thousand-fold
diversities of the world, was his profoundest knowledge. His great
sagacity always seemed as intuition, as a native inspiration. It was
next to impossible to deceive him.
There is that in the human mind which takes the name of no one faculty,
but which, in the manifestation, is entitled _good sense_, and "strong
sense." There are men in the world, who wield no scholastic terminology,
who have no tendency to much speculative theorization, but nevertheless
have that in them, which, on the presentation of the most carefully
elaborated theories, can at once judge upon their worth and fallacy.
This strong searching force which despises the artificial operations of
logicians, and the visionary theorization of idealists, makes of them
solid pillars amidst the general fluctuation, enables them to say of all
the "nine days' wonders," as they arrive, that they are but nine days'
wonders. In them it says, "The theory is learned and rendered plausible;
but substantially there is nothing in it. It is of no actual use. It
hails from cloud-land, and in cloud-land it will ere long dissolve." Mr.
Badger was no ideologist; he was an actualist, a realist, who never
alienated himself from the circle of the sympathy of mankind, but
wrought upon themes and enterprises for which the people themselves had
feeling and care. He could easily weigh the humbugs as they arose; and
there was no art of proselytism by which they could be glued to him or
he to them. Scores of wild theories sprung up in his day. He patiently
heard the arguments therefor, mildly responded, gave his own opinion,
and with it possibly a cheerful laugh, which was itself no insignificant
argument, and probably announced what he believed the result would be
when time should have ripened and tested the fruit. The friends of
Fourier built an institution within two miles of his door, and kindly
invited him to join; some of his old acquaintances with infatuated joy
rushed into the new millennium. He told them there was truth in the idea
of more fraternity than the selfish world is disposed to enjoy, but that
the conception of society they had adopted was visionary, and that all
would repent who had thus invested their means. "Be assured, friend G.,
that in two or three years this whole matter will fail, and your funds
will be lost." And so it was. Millerism, also, came along, showing large
maps of the world's chronology, Bible symbol, and all that; some of his
old ministerial friends rushed into the excitement, and cried aloud for
the speedy coming of the personal Christ. He was calm. He told them it
was idle theory, that it was theological egotism; and it mattered not
how strongly and flippantly they quoted from Daniel and John, or what
the array of texts and historical passages might be; he had a large,
clear, manly brain, and _knew_ that the main fabric was woven of cobweb.
He opposed against it strong arguments, and when knowing vanity and
egotism on the opposite side became intolerable, he mingled with his
argumentation the withering force of satire, which, with him, was little
else than long pieces of strong sense, made very sharp at the points.
This statement should be made for his mind and speech, that whenever he
spoke it was to the point. It told plainly on the case in hand. His
force was never lost by diffuseness or redundancy. He could say very
much in few words. In coming to truth, he preferred the shortest way,
and cherished, I judge, a cheerful contempt for artistic modes of
reasoning, in which many strive to display so much science of method.
The dry logician and the disputer of words he could endure, though he
never would waste much time with them. If some one in the company was
anxious to controvert, he usually turned to some other person and gave
over his part of the question to him; then, in calmly witnessing their
play of words, he derived great satisfaction from whatever was weighty,
sharp, or well directed on either side, using the occasion chiefly as a
scene of entertainment. In him one might see not a little of the
ironical advice of Mephistopheles to the student, who in recommending
the study of logic as a means of saving time, tells him that "in this
study the mind is well broken in--is laced up as in Spanish boots,[61]
so that it creeps circumspectly along the path of thought," minding the
immense importance of one, two, three, four, which shall now cost him
hours to accomplish what he before hit off at a blow. If, as
Mephistopheles said, the actual operations of the human mind are as a
weaver's loom, where one treadle commands a thousand threads, which are
invisible in the rapidity of their movements, Mr. B. was more an actual
weaver of the real garment than the philosopher who steps in to prove
that these processes must have been so; that the first was so, and
therefore the second came; and that since the first and second were, the
third was inevitable.[62] In arriving at truth, be it remembered, he
preferred the plainest, directest roads. He was emphatically a
_thinking_ man; and the end of his thought, mostly, was practical
result.
The powers of his mind were not rigid but flexible, as, under any
variety of scenes, he was capable of being composed and genial. He did
not stickle on small points of theology or practice; points he desired
to carry he could gracefully introduce; those which he found it
necessary or expedient to abandon, he could give up with easy
indifference. He was a man of order; and, perhaps what can be said of
but few clergymen, he was a man of skilful business talent, a great
tactician, a good economist and financier. "Not one in ten of mankind,"
said he, "know how to do business."
It has been common for persons to speak much about his shrewdness, tact,
sagacity and cunning. As some of these traits often unite in unpowerful
and secretive natures, I would say that in him they stood connected with
much decision of character, independence and boldness. These stronger
traits were manifest in every stage of his history. He stood erect and
strong in youth, when answering the tyrannical British magistrate. He
put the savages to the extremity of violence rather than acquiesce in a
dishonorable mode of conveyance to the seat of justice at the Three
Rivers. When about twenty-two, he met a clergyman in New England who
confessed to him that he had preached for twelve years in an unconverted
state, and whose prayers and sermons were then as spiritless as fallen
leaves. Mr. Badger invited him courteously to share in the services of
the Sabbath, but on parting he faithfully warned him to seek the
life-giving influences of the Holy Spirit. These qualities of tact,
shrewdness, cunning, lay under the shadow of stronger and bolder powers.
They greatly facilitated his success, so far as this depends on
adaptation and proper management; and probably we cannot account for a
certain elegant aptness and fitness to the occasion and purpose, which
gave peculiar charm to his public discourses, without implying the
presence of these intellectual attributes.
It is conceded that it required the extraordinary demand of great
occasions, or great opposition, as in the case of controversy, to bring
out his greatest intellectual force, though he was happily adapted to
ordinary occasions. When obliged to use his power, it came in strong and
impressive forms of utterance; all saw his meaning, felt the force of
his illustrations and the victorious power of will, which, in minds like
his, is strongly determined on the achieving of its aims. In
controversy, Joseph Badger was indeed a difficult opponent. We have
never heard of any who have claimed a victory against him. The event may
possibly have occurred, but the echo thereof has never come to our
ears. We doubt that it ever happened. He did not challenge nor seek
controversy, nor did he shrink from it when truth and the honor of his
cause demanded that formidable opponents should be met. The position of
a theological reformer is liable, in the early stages of his work, to
receive a great variety of assault; and under such circumstances the
peaceful quietness and repose which reside in the established state of
the public mind are not his legacy. In a degree, he is to be a moral
hero and warrior, and if he wars for truth successfully and handsomely,
we should hasten to render him the wreath of honor and praise. We
believe that Joseph Badger never stood for the advocacy of views which
he did not himself heartily believe; and this conceded, we believe also
that he never entered a controversial field without the _determination_
of victory, the end being, in all reason, not so much to persuade the
wrangling antagonist as to convince the people. The calmness of his
intellect and the composure of his feelings were always conspicuous at
such times. Though he had high spirit and temper constitutionally,
though his passional nature was uncommonly strong, he was, on all
occasions where the passions of others were likely to be inflamed,
astonishingly cool. It was the coolness of a pilot amidst the storm. At
all times of which we have any knowledge, Mr. Badger was distinguished
for this self-command, by which he could rise above surrounding
excitement or present calamity. This trait gave him great advantage in
discussion; for, from his own cool state, he was sure to learn the
weaknesses of temper and of argument on the opposite side, which soon
became advantageous capital to his cause. But we do not here design to
trace him through his controversial history. The glance we have taken in
this direction is simply to exhibit certain qualities that distinguish
his mind.
Imagination, without which there is no blue sky of starred excellence in
our being, is a faculty which in some degree of richness operates in all
creative minds. It was often playfully and often seriously active in the
mind of Joseph Badger. It aided his free and happy use of language. It
brought to his service a vast number of natural illustrations and
figures, both for the ornament of public discourse and social
conversation; and in the good taste and fancy, of which the clearest
evidences exist, is also implied that something finer than the
understanding enriched him. He held in his mind a high standard of
poetry; therefore he never sought to approach it by creations of his
own. He had intense feeling and delicacy of sentiment, and withal a vein
of marvellousness that caused him at times to note in his diary the
dreams of his midnight slumber, on which he would afterwards linger in
sober reflection. Among his private papers there are a few instances in
which his strong presentiments are recorded. The generous enthusiasm of
his nature, that gave so much life to his early labors, and that always
rendered his influence enlivening, is well balanced by the deliberate
intellect that imparted to his action and manner the impress of
composure. But it is as a matter-of-fact man chiefly, as a utilitarian
in the best sense of that word, as a definite thinker, that his true
character appears in the world. He was a great and a natural planner,
was most in his element when standing in the centre of some enterprise
which aimed at important practical results. In every cause he undertook,
his power to concentrate himself upon the single end before him was
immense.
Though possessed of great suavity of manners and smoothness of speech,
in power of _will_ and in firmness of decision he had few equals. He
labored with great fidelity and perseverance toward the achievement of
his main purpose. He could smile or laugh at the sharpest opposition
that might be expressed in his presence, could speak of his plans
without using tenacious language, but everything proved in the long run,
the power of his will and the solidity of his purpose. His will was by
nature and discipline strong, very strong; and he had that which took
away the offence which strong-willed persons usually give. Instead of
appearing at all wilful, or stubborn, he cast himself upon the
assignation of the best reasons, and demeaned himself in a conciliatory
bearing toward all. He knew how to give in and how to waive minor
matters that he might compromise people of different opinions and
prejudices, for which he possessed great tact and skill. Yet when
opposition became decided and open, he had no great patience or
long-suffering towards the obstacles that stood in his way. He wanted
them out of the path, and set to work for their removal. Though he was
always courteous, and in social greetings cordial to all, even to
enemies and opposers who happened to meet him, he had no taste for
rivalry and opposition. He sought to cripple the power of whatever stood
in the way as a solid barrier to the success of his dearly cherished
plans, an attribute this, which strong actors in the world have, we
believe, very commonly possessed, from Napoleon of Corsica to the great
Democrat of the Hermitage. The kindness of his nature was native and
overflowing; but there were circumstances under which his severity was
equally conspicuous. Nevertheless, toward the conquered party, his
generosity naturally reacted in forms of kindness, and of such, at last,
he often made permanent friends and co-workers.
The sympathies and kindness of Mr. Badger, I have elsewhere alluded to
as being great. He had a large power of friendship. From this phase of
his nature, proceeded his facility for making friends and attaching them
to himself. His friends became numerous wherever he went. We cannot
account for so noble a fact, without conceding to him the possession of
a heart in which the magnetism of human kindness was great, for it takes
a power to awaken a power, and selfishness alone never became the
radiant centre about which the hearts of the many were happily drawn.
The power of sympathy and friendship is an attraction which, like the
physical property in nature designated by this name, is in proportion to
the _quantity_ of the source from which it flows; also, the proximity or
the distance of objects, which suggests another law of this material
energy, is likewise true in the world of friendship. For it is nearness,
that is to say, it is kindredness of mind, feeling, and experience; it
is the ability to furnish other hearts with the true objects of their
own affections, that qualifies one to sit as king or queen on the throne
of friendship and love. He who lawfully sways this sceptre over the
multitudes, is one in whom the many are represented, who is truly
brother to each and to all. Viewed from this sentiment, how can the
influences of Joseph Badger be accounted for, except on the ground that
his heart was truly great and brotherly? A community of strangers into
which he might come soon felt the power of this attraction. Said the
honest Barton W. Stone, of Kentucky, in a letter of welcome to his
intended second visit to the South:--"Your name is dear to the people of
Georgetown. Many are anxiously hoping to greet you;"--though he had but
once visited Georgetown and other localities south and west, his name
remained in the hearts of the people. This is but a common illustration
of what generally occurred in places where he preached several sermons
and freely mingled with the people. As a strong example of the lasting
attachment he had the power to inspire in his friends, I would mention a
circumstance recorded in his private journal while at Boston.
Mr. Jonas Clark, of Dublin, Cheshire Co., N. H., a man of sound mind,
who had not seen Mr. B. for thirteen years, but had listened to his
early ministry, went to meet him at Boston, August 20, 1828. On coming
into his presence he took him by the hand and said: "Can this be Joseph,
my friend?" On being answered in the affirmative, he was unable to
reply; but turning away his head and leaning over a desk near by, he
wept in silence. The memories of the past that rushed into his mind were
golden by affection, and years of time and much mingling with the world
had not effaced or marred the sacred impress of former years. "Oh, what
majesty," said Mr. B., "there is in such tears of love! True friendship
is more lasting than time, and it outlives every other principle."
Though Mr. Badger had an intellect that was strong and peculiarly
original and self-relying, we think on the whole that his stronghold was
far more in the hearts of the people than in their merely intellectual
regard and admiration. His neighbors who have lived near him for twenty
and thirty years, testify to the strict and uniform kindness of his
feelings and acts as a neighbor.
To young ministers and to feeble churches, he extended the wealth of his
sympathy. He was both a brother in Christ and a father in Israel.
Particularly was his sympathy deep and strong for young men just
entering into the ministry. Many things in his own life qualified him to
be their benefactor. He had himself passed through great trials of mind
and of outward circumstances, when a young man of nineteen and twenty,
as the result of his choice, or rather of his acceptance of the
preacher's mission. No young man would be likely to stand in the midst
of greater embarrassments than he had stood. Then his extensive
observation of men and things, his knowledge of human nature, his own
varied experience of years in the Gospel ministry, his tender
sympathies, his gentle and easy manners, which took away fear and
restraint, peculiarly fitted him for a nearness of access to their
minds, to render them counsel to meet their doubts, and to give them
instruction and needful encouragement. He had great skill with which to
inspire hope in a young man. He could prune his defective habits, also,
without giving offence; and well did he know how to set his mind upon
new trains of thought. First of all, it was his policy to find out the
real material of a young man's mind, to learn his real character. To
effect this, he gradually threw off whatever in manner should serve to
impose restraint, became familiar, perhaps in some instances greatly so,
and turned conversation so as to hit on every side of human nature and
of the supposed character of the person whose mental and moral
dimensions he desired to take. In a few days, at most, he developed his
characteristics far enough to be completely satisfied of his capacity,
principles and promise. I do not say that this was his method in all
cases, but I know of some instances in which it was, and have heard of
it in others. The wisdom of this procedure appears in the fact that to
qualify young men for the ministry, respect must be had for what in them
is individual, as there are no uniform theological moulds into which
human nature can be successfully fused and run; and it had the advantage
also of enabling the counsellor to decide at the beginning, the most
important of all questions, whether a young man is not mistaking the
meaning of God as announced in his nature, by assuming the position of a
spiritual leader. He gave them books to read and to keep; taught them
the great importance of a healthy degree of physical culture; gave them
his views of the most useful and successful methods of preaching; taught
the supreme importance of religious experience; looked out for them
fields of labor, took them to his own appointments, made journeys with
them, and if any diffident young man of merit was mortified at the
imperfection and feebleness of his own public efforts, he had the finest
skill in restoring to him his lost confidence. Many whose conversions
took place under his preaching, became ministers; and very many owe
their earliest and best lessons in the ministry to his examples and
counsels. To sum up his faculty in this direction, in few words, I
should say, he greatly excelled in the power of calling out the minds of
others, in developing their resources for good.
He was in the habit of treating young men as if he respected their
wisdom. He asked their advice on his own plans and enterprises. This he
did, not so much to receive new information as to set their minds upon
practical thinking, and to connect their sympathy and intelligence with
that which should increase their knowledge. He was always very fond of
young people; and nothing more readily enlisted his attention than the
appearance of a young man of promise just entering the Gospel ministry.
He cordially took him by the hand, welcomed him to his own fireside, and
invariably and reverently taught him that there is no station in the
universe, that can be occupied by a human being, which is in itself so
truly honorable and so sacredly responsible as that of the Christian
minister. The same genial power of development here spoken of in regard
to young ministers, was equally manifest in relation to young writers.
Very much of his influence was genial; therefore, like the sun's ray, it
called out the life on which it shone.
His sympathy was also cosmopolitan. He had a passion to know the
stirring events of the world. The great enterprises and achievements in
different countries awakened him. He was uncommonly fond of the news. A
new school of philosophers springing up in a foreign country would not
escape his notice; but he had far greater interest in a new series of
events that might be unfolding, and auguring changes in the empires and
in the social condition of man. He watched the nations. He also watched
the various sects and political parties of his own country. He read
every week the most widely circulated Roman Catholic paper of the new
continent, studied the olden structure of their organization; and freely
and respectfully visited Roman Catholic clergymen whenever he found a
resident priest within the vicinity of his own labors. Father William
O'Reilly, of Rochester, a very worthy man in the Catholic ministry,
frequently received his calls and most kindly reciprocated his
friendship. Mr. Badger had indeed no tendencies whatever toward Roman
Catholicism, but he profoundly respected religion and human nature, and
was pleased to see them in their various phases and manifestations.
There were, I would opine, several elements in the Mother Church that
had his respect. Indeed, how could it have been otherwise? Protestantism
has not in the main been largely originative in theology. Nearly all its
great doctrines coming under the head of dogma, are even now those that
exist in Rome and that proceeded from Rome. Omission and modification,
more than origination are, thus far, the distinction of what is most
revered in Protestant faith. In the preaching of Joseph Badger, all
seemed to feel the wide and liberal sympathy of his doctrines. Said
General Ross, of Wilkesbarre, who went some half a dozen miles to hear
him speak, October, 1830:--"I never heard such republican preaching as
that before. The society who hold to these principles must prosper."
Within the view here offered, mention might justly be made of the reach
of influence he gained over the diverse grades of man. The intelligent
and the ignorant, the believer and the sceptic, the man of inward
holiness, and the hardest specimens of sin and unbelief, looked up when
they heard he was in town; and, from some earnest sympathy, felt that
they should hear him. He seemed to have a key fitted to unlock all
hearts, so that, from murderers and drunkards, as well as from the
penitent and faithful, he drew a tear, and won a confidence through
which he had access to what was best in their being. It not unfrequently
happened that he had those in his audience who would have listened to no
one else, and some who were noted for boldness and originality of sin he
ofttimes persuaded into a divine faith, in which they were steadfast and
life-long in their pursuit. What signify such phenomena? At least this
is implied, that the speaker had a wide form of sympathy, and that the
manifold experiences of the world were comprehended by him.
In meeting him often, one never felt that he met a stereotyped man. He
was new at each period. So testify his old parishioners. They say, that,
in every sermon, there was something fresh, something that was unsaid at
previous times, and was new to them. Those who had been acquainted with
him for years would see new traits of character, as the varying phase of
circumstance and association might suggest. He was plain-spoken; yet,
beyond that plain, bold speech, the reserved and the unspoken could
often claim large territories their own. Indeed, no man of depths was
ever read throughout as an alphabet is read.
No man, probably, ever had a stronger individuality. He was Joseph
Badger, and no one else. He was quite free from personal eccentricity;
was easy and graceful. But on whom was the impress of individuality ever
more decidedly made? Who did he imitate? Look at his language, his
manners, his modes of treating a subject, his voice, his entire action,
and tell us who was his pattern. What original stood on the foreground
of his reverence, commanding even an unconscious conformity? But one
answer can be given to these questions. He was a man of marked
character, and original beyond what is common to men of superior
endowments. Persons who had not seen him for many years at once
recognized him at night, on entering a stage-coach or steamboat, merely
from his _voice_. His shortest business letters--and very many of his
letters are composed of but a couple of paragraphs, and some of but a
very few sentences--are stamped with the peculiar character of his mind.
They are so concise, so direct, so comprehensive. Character and genius
appear in small as well as in great things. Often, in letters of one
short paragraph, have I been reminded of Napoleon, of the clear, brief,
pithy statements by which that commander expressed himself, both in
vocal and in written messages. Since the world stood, we are satisfied
there has been but _one_ Joseph Badger, and we will risk our credit at
prophecy in the declaration that another will never appear. Not, indeed,
that the creative resources of divinity or humanity are in the least
abated, but the pure originalities of the Creator in human history are
never repeated.
In drawing the just outlines of his character, there is one prominent
feature that commands our attention. I mean the strong proclivity of his
mind to lead, to plan, to direct, to be at the centre of operations, to
be FIRST. This proclivity cannot be denied; nor can it be affirmed that
it was accustomed to clothe itself in assumptively offensive forms. His
passage to the pilot's station was easy and natural, and his labor there
appeared as a matter of course. Two reasons account for this trait. The
first and chief is founded in nature; the second, in that discipline of
experience which, for many years, required him to act a leader's part.
If we examine whatever is successful in the history of events belonging
to associated action, we shall find that action to be led on by some
guiding mind. Everything of much import has its leader, from the passage
of the children of Israel through the Red Sea to the founding of the
latest literary institution. Even a revolt, a schism, must have a head.
The God who has anticipated all human wants has not neglected this need
of mankind, but has given them many commanding, guiding spirits, whose
quickness of perception, concentration, foresight, courage, and
sympathy, inspire the many with confidence in their wisdom. Such men are
God's choice gifts. They carry their credentials in their ability. And,
as the real man, under whatever circumstances, will tell, there is no
good reason why society should not recognize its appropriate guides.
Happy are they that do this. The birds that voyage many leagues to the
south, and the flocks that roam in the freedom of the wild, never err
in their selection of leaders. _Their_ chiefs are never stupid.
Granting this, that some are made to lead and that many are born to
follow, it is important and right that he who can serve his fellows best
by acting a leading part should _know_ his station. It will be natural
for him to start first, to stand at the centre of operation, and, if he
is kind and fraternal to all, as true leaders ever are, none can justly
feel that he is out of his place, or that they are shaded. The true
leader in any true cause rejoices in every sign of merit in others.
Their strength is his wealth. In the words of Festus,
"He would not shade an atom of another,
To make a sun his slave, or a god his brother."
Yet what would we think of a pilot who on the sea should hesitate in his
services through fear that others might regard him as too forward, or
too high in his aspiration? When the right man leads the way, the
reasonable are satisfied, are glad that they are provided for, and they
are the stronger for being inspired with the hope and vigor of their
guide. Mr. Badger was in his element, we confess, when his directing
genius swayed the action of the day; and the _success_ of his guidance
is the fair proof of his value. It was his element, because of his
nature and evident mission, and not from artificial or ostentatious
reasons. He counselled much with his brethren. He prayed to God for
light. Indeed, he was naturally diffident, though his strength and
boldness, as called out by demand, might have made the impression of a
conscious and perpetual feeling of self-sufficiency. He had not, I am
sure, a high form of self-esteem. But he was a a leader, and when so,
the cause he espoused was alive with interest and accumulated power.
It will be seen that, from the broad catholicity of his early labors,
his action, in later years, grew apparently more denominational. But in
this there is no contradiction. He followed the line of duty. At no time
in his life did he plead for a sectarian denominationalism based on
creed, or mere doctrinal platform. Always and forever was he opposed to
this. In one of the first days of October, 1842, I remember that some
two or three ministers were discussing the subject of Christian union in
his parlor, with the view of stating its true basis. As usual with him,
he avoided entering into private controversy; but after all had said
what they thought on the subject, he added, in substance, these words:
"Gentlemen, there seems to be something light in our conversation this
morning. When I go into a new place and preach, and have occasion to
organize a church, or receive members, I always ask these questions. Is
the man who would join us a man of good influence? Is his influence on
the side of virtue and good order in society? Will his example be a
light to the church and to the world? If I am satisfied on these points
I have no more questions to ask."
His path in this respect was a natural one. The preaching of the early
ministers, which ignored sectarianism, which was founded in the religion
of experience, in spiritual communion with God, and in the fellowship of
all saints, was exceedingly prosperous. Thousands were drawn by this
magnetism of liberal principles into union; and the strong opposition
they encountered from those who deified mere dogma in theology, also
served to make them one body in the world. From the very nature of the
social law, masses who are strongly moved by new truths or errors do
come together into organic form. A religious community once created,
must have its papers, associations and customs; so that in a short time
it will happen that the freest principles in religion will appear to be
invested with sectarian form. But sect and denomination are not
synonymous. Br. Badger's labors were to build up the free, pure and holy
principles of the Christian religion, without limiting them by any
boundary of the intellect, by any limit except virtue, holiness and
love. In the concentration of his mind in editorial life, in pastoral
relations, in anxious concern for the spread of the principles he had
preached in his youth, in his general services to the denomination to
which he belonged, I see nothing that wars with the freedom of his early
position in 1812; nothing but what appears as the proper, natural course
of the current of life.
The genesis of a new people, just born into religious being, like the
genesis of nature, has its period of chaos, of unorganized elements.
This was the case with the denomination called Christians; and though
their transition to order and system was aided by many minds, it is my
conviction, from the testimony of those who were familiar with those
early years, that to Joseph Badger more than to any other one man they
are indebted for the introduction of order and system into their
Conferences and into their general modes of action. He defended order
and organization with great success. He was, indeed, the founder of the
regular organization of Conference, having cognizance of the moral
standing of ministers.[63]
In short, Mr. Badger was a man of a rich and many-sided nature; not of
one idea nor of one fortress of energy. His intellect was clear and
strong. His passions also were strong. His physical power and dignity of
person far surpassed the average of men. His kindness was great; his
courage and decision were also great. His social feelings and social
power were of uncommon vigor; few indeed could entertain company with so
much satisfaction as he. Though familiar, none could approach him
irreverently. He had deep and abiding faith in God. He also honored
reason, and asked her light through the darkness of life. He loved a
denomination; yet through it he sought to impress for good the human
family. He loved ideas, and was a strong dealer in facts. He could
dissolve assemblies in tears, and if he chose, illumine their
countenances with joy and mirth. He could unfold the holy meaning of
Scripture, could draw from the deep wells of the religious life, could
lead the repenting sinner into the inner sanctuary of spiritual rest and
peace. He could also make the most effective speech at a railroad
meeting, or on any enterprise in which practical sagacity and foresight
were essential to success. He had self-care; he knew how to provide for
his own wants, and how to extend his manly sympathies to others. He was
keenly sensitive; and, under the greatest troubles, his eye was calm and
his countenance unchanged. He loved a sermon; he also loved a song. He
was, in brief, a natural man, a natural minister. No clerical tones
could be detected in his voice. He spoke like a _man_, who had a
definite knowledge of what he intended to say. His bearing in society
well sustained the dignity of his calling. He was true to the main
purpose of his life. The needle vibrates, but through all the years of
its being the true magnet turns to the pole. In 1812 he began his
ministry; in 1852 he bade farewell to earth. Through this long period,
whilst his ability lasted, he adhered to the work of preaching salvation
and of building up the holy interests of Zion. The true magnet was he,
or we should not have witnessed this long and faithful adherence to the
fixed star of his faith. He indeed had errors. He had faults; for he was
only a man. Men constituted as he was, in erring, often err strongly.
But when such persons err, there are large resources of honor and
goodness left, by which they arise and shine. The errors of superior
men, said Confucius, are like the eclipse of the sun and moon. All men
observe them, and all look for their reformation. Also it happens, in
the order of creation, that great natures have strong opponents and
strong enemies. The lion is assailed by the wild boar; the whale is
opposed by the sword-fish and the thrasher. Thus Washington and
Webster, in their day, were followed by mighty assailants, in the form
of prejudice and calumny. Though Mr. Badger's sphere of action was
unpolitical and sacred, it was his fortune to have many strong friends
and at times a few strong opponents. But all, we believe, who knew him
well, regard his memory and revere his name. He was a good man.
Genuinely, he was a great man, capable by nature of acting successfully
on a wider theatre than the one he filled; but, we think he occupied the
best position for usefulness. Admitting that he had natural powers,
which, if trained in the widest field of the world's action, had
equalled in policy a Talleyrand, or, in the creation of great and
successful plans, a Napoleon or a Wellington, how much better is the
retrospect, in the eyes of all heavenly wisdom, to survey his labors as
being directed to the salvation of men, to the establishment in the
church of order and prosperity, and to the dissemination of a great
truth in Christendom, which, though it may have been a century in
advance of the age, is destined to fill the whole earth. This truth is
the declaration that true religion and the right bond of union among
Christians, are a divine life, and not a mental assent, a theological
belief. We own the hand of Providence in the gift of such men to the
world; and whether appreciated now or not, according to the demand of
justice, we boldly affirm that Joseph Badger has declared truths, made
sacrifices, and exerted influences on earth as a theological reformer,
whose effects shall not die away in centuries. They who help the world's
progress are doubtless its first benefactors; and we have this firm
faith, that the world is now, and ever will be, the wealthier from his
having lived in it.
"No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
Where they alike in trembling hope repose,
The bosom of his Father and his God."