tend to develop a higher order of manhood; yet when we go so far as to
permit foreign languages to be taught in our public schools at the
public expense, as essential to an American education, and that, too, at
the dictation of denizens whose education and predilections are in
conflict with our own, have we not reason to fear the ultimate results?
If this insidious influence of foreign growth be allowed to control our
educational system, it will not be long before we shall adopt foreign
habits and sentiments, and lose forever our American nationality.
If America would be true to herself, she must preserve not only the
purity of her principles, but the purity of her spoken language. If
foreigners choose to become American citizens, they must expect to
become Americanized in language and sentiment, as well as accept our
form of government. We want no foreign element incorporated into our
free institutions which does not harmonize with them. In a word, we want
no union of Church and State, no "confusion of tongues" in our public
schools, no aping of foreign manners and habits, no foreign
dictation,--nothing but pure American freedom and pure American
principles.
It is in this country that Church and State, for the first time in the
history of the civilized world, have been separated, and allowed to
conduct their own affairs in their own way, and independently of each
other. So far as experience has gone in this respect, it proves the
wisdom of the policy. And yet there are many statesmen, who, in reading
the "signs of the times," think there are reasons for believing that the
priesthood have inherited their ancient love of civil power, and are
quietly endeavoring, in various ways, to secure such a degree of moral
power over the popular mind as will, in effect if not in fact, transfer
to them the control of the civil government.
If the priesthood are to control the government, it matters but little
whether it be the Catholic or the Protestant. Catholicism regards the
Church as supreme and the State as subordinate, repudiates public
schools, and trains her youth in the Church and for the Church, thus
preparing them to become not only adherents to the faith, but "soldiers
of the cross;" while Protestantism asks the recognition of God in the
Constitution, urges a fraternal union of all her various denominations,
with a view to concentrate and direct their moral force, and even goes
so far as to discuss politics in the pulpit,--thus attempting to control
the results of our popular elections, especially when great moral
questions are supposed to be involved. In all this there may be no
insidious design; but facts carry with them a degree of significance
which ought not to be disregarded. If a "religious war" must come, it
will be a fearful contest, and one which must result in the subversion
of free government, and finally extinguish the last hope of every true
philanthropist.
And yet, as a people, we need never "despair of the Republic" so long as
we sustain free public schools and confide the government to none other
than an enlightened and philanthropic statesmanship. If America
continues to respect herself, she is evidently destined to wield, not
only the moral power of the world, but to complete the civilization of
the world. Inspired with a desire to ameliorate the condition of
mankind the world over, she annually expends millions of money in
advancing the cause of a true Christianity. So inviting are her free
institutions that she is rapidly becoming a central nation in point of
wealth, talent, and population, as well as in moral and political
influence. It should be her pleasure, as well as aim, not only to
perfect her own government, but to diffuse a knowledge of her liberal
principles throughout the world.
In reverting to the history of the past, we see that nations, like
individuals, have their career, succeed each other, and finally become
extinct. On this continent the red race has been rapidly succeeded by
the white race. Whether a still higher order of man will succeed the
white race, is a question which time only can determine.
Nature is provident, and like Divine Providence, works in "mysterious
ways," and with an aim to achieve ultimate results. What America now is,
we know; what she will be, we know not. It is devoutly to be wished,
however, that her career may continue to be characterized by great and
noble achievements, and that her "star-spangled banner" may forever
float in triumph
"O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave."
CAREER OF REV. JOSEPH BADGER.
There have been but few men in the clerical profession who have made a
worthier or more exemplary life-record for themselves than Rev. Joseph
Badger. He fought for liberty in the Revolution, and for Christianity in
the wilds of the Western Reserve. In the one case he fought with the
musket, in the other with the sword of the Spirit. Whether serving as a
soldier or as a missionary, he proved himself sincere and steadfast in
his devotion to duty.
Rev. Joseph Badger was born at Wilbraham, Mass., Feb. 28, 1757. He was a
lineal descendant of Giles Badger, who emigrated from England and
settled at Newburyport, not far from Boston, about the year 1635. The
father of Joseph was Henry Badger, who married Mary Landon. They were
both devoutly pious, and equally poor in this world's goods. They
instructed their son Joseph, at an early age, in the catechism of the
Puritan faith, and gave him such further elementary education as they
were able at the domestic fireside. He grew strong in the faith as he
grew to manhood, when he began to realize that in sharing life with his
parents, good and kind as they were, he shared their poverty. In
consulting his mirror he was often painfully reminded of the fact that
his garments, patched as they were, displayed about as many colors as
the coat of his ancient namesake. Inspired with the patriotic sentiment
of the times, and desiring not only to provide for himself, but to
obtain sufficient money to give himself a liberal education, he enlisted
in 1775, when but eighteen years of age, in the Revolutionary army, as a
common soldier, and was assigned to the regiment commanded by Colonel
Patterson. The regiment was stationed at Fort No. 3, near Lechmere's
Point, in the vicinity of Boston. At the battle of Bunker Hill this
regiment was posted on Cobble Hill, in a line with the front of the
American battery, and about half a mile distant, where every man of the
regiment could see the fire from the whole line, and enjoy the pleasure
of seeing the British break their ranks, run down the hill, and then
reluctantly return to the charge. On their third return, as luck would
have it, they carried the works at the point of the bayonet. This was
the first time after his enlistment that young Joseph had an opportunity
to smell the smoke of British gunpowder. It was some time in September
of the same year he enlisted that the British landed three or four
hundred men on Lechmere's Point to take off a herd of fat cattle.
Colonel Patterson ordered his regiment to attack the marauders and
prevent them from capturing the cattle. A sharp conflict ensued, in
which Joseph tested the virtues of his musket and poured into the enemy
nine or ten shots in rapid succession and with apparent effect. Several
were killed and others wounded on both sides. Joseph escaped unharmed.
But soon after this skirmish he took a violent cold, attended with a
severe cough. His captain advised him to return home until he could
recover. This he did, and within twenty days came back and rejoined his
regiment quite restored to health.
The British evacuated Boston on the 17th of March, 1776. On the next day
Colonel Patterson's regiment, with several other regiments, was ordered
to New York, where they remained for three weeks, and were then ordered
to Canada. They were transported up the Hudson to Albany, and thence by
way of Lakes George and Champlain to St. Johns, and thence to La Prairie
on the banks of the St. Lawrence and in sight of Montreal. On the way
the troops suffered severely from exposure to rain-storms and
snow-storms, and from want of provisions. They arrived at La Prairie
late in the day, and in a state bordering on starvation, where they
encamped supperless. The next day each soldier received a ration of a
few ounces of mouldy bread for breakfast, and a thin slice of stale meat
for supper. Joseph accepted his share of the dainty feast without a
murmur, but doubtless thought the wayfaring soldier had a pretty "hard
road to travel." A part of Colonel Patterson's regiment was then ordered
up the river to a small fort at Cedar Rapids, which was besieged by a
British captain with one company of regulars and about five hundred
Indians, led by Brant, the famous Indian chief. The Indians were
thirsting for blood. A fierce conflict ensued, which lasted for an hour
or more, when the enemy was compelled to retreat towards the fort. At
this juncture a parley was called, and the firing ceased. A number were
killed, and more wounded. It so happened that the fifth company, to
which Joseph belonged, did not arrive in time to participate in the
fight, though they had approached so near the scene as to hear the
firing and see the rolling cloud of battle-smoke. Joseph expressed his
regret that he had lost so good an opportunity to give his flint-lock a
second trial. The detachment was now ordered to retreat to La Chine,--a
French village about six miles above Montreal. Here they were
reinforced by the arrival of eight hundred men, under command of General
Arnold. The entire force advanced to the outlet of Bason Lake, at St.
Ann's, where they embarked on board the boats and steered for a certain
point about three miles distant. In passing, the force was fired upon by
the enemy, armed with guns and two small cannon. A shower of shot seemed
to come from every direction, and as the boats containing the Americans
were about to land at the point sought, they received, amid hideous
yells from the Indians in ambush, a hailstorm of bullets that rattled as
they struck the boats, and slightly injured some of the men. The men in
the boats returned the fire as best they could. It was marvellous that
none of the Americans were killed or seriously injured. "It appeared to
me," said Joseph, "a wonderful, providential escape." A British captain
by the name of Foster was shot in the thigh. It was now nearly sunset,
when General Arnold ordered a retreat. The night was spent in making
preparations for the morrow. It was near morning when Captain Foster
came over to General Arnold and agreed with him to a cartel by which
certain prisoners were exchanged. The American prisoners were returned
in a destitute and forlorn condition. The pitiful sight deeply excited
the generous sympathies of the kind-hearted Joseph, who did what he
could to comfort them by dividing his own supplies with them.
General Arnold now returned with his troops to Montreal, exercising
great vigilance to avoid further surprise. He then crossed the St.
Lawrence and encamped at St. Johns. Here the small-pox appeared in camp.
In order to avoid the severity of the disease, Joseph procured the
necessary virus and inoculated himself with the point of a needle, which
produced the desired effect. Two days after the disease had appeared in
camp, the troops were ordered to Chambly. The British hove in sight and
began to land on the opposite side of the bay. The invalids were
numerous and continued to increase. They were directed to march back to
St. Johns,--a distance of twelve miles. Most of them could hardly carry
gun, cartridge-box, and blanket, and were often obliged to sit down and
rest by the wayside, Joseph among the rest. In the course of a few days
the sick were transported to Isle aux Noix, at which place all the
shattered army were collected under command of General Heath. From this
place the troops, including the sick, proceeded amid sundry
embarrassments to Crown Point, where they encamped. Here the small-pox
spread among the men, and in its most aggravated form, with fearful
rapidity. The scene in camp soon became appalling. The groans and cries
of the sick and dying were heard night and day without cessation. As it
happened, the surgeons, for want of medicines and hospital stores, could
render but little aid. In some instances as many as thirty patients died
in a day, and were buried in a single vault or pit, for the reason that
there were not well men enough to bury them in separate graves.
The humane and philanthropic Joseph, who had previously inoculated
himself with success, and thus avoided further danger from the
contagion, now devoted himself to nursing and caring for his sick
companions-in-arms with unwearied assiduity. As soon as the contagion
began to abate, the sick were transferred in boats to Fort George, while
the men fit for service were ordered to Mount Independence, opposite
Ticonderoga, to erect works of defence. The mount was covered with
forest trees, loose rocks, and dens infested with rattlesnakes, which
often crept into camp and were killed.
At this time Joseph suffered for want of the clothes he had lost in the
retreat from Canada, and had, in fact, worn the only shirt he had for
six weeks, and was so incommoded with vermin that he was compelled to
take off his shirt, wash it without soap, wring it out, and put it on
wet. He was also scourged with an irritating cutaneous disease, which
induced him to retire some distance from camp, fire a log-heap, and
roast himself, after anointing with a mixture of grease and brimstone.
The camp was destitute of indispensable conveniences, and the hospital
in which lay the sick had not a dish of any kind in which could be
administered a sup of gruel, broth, or a drink of water. Resort was had
to wooden troughs, or dishes, cut out with a hatchet or penknife. The
colonel, in passing through the hospital, said, "I wish there was a man
to be found here who can turn wooden dishes." Joseph, who understood the
art, replied, "Furnish me the tools and I will do it." The tools were
furnished, and Joseph soon turned from the aspen poplar an ample supply
of wooden cups and trenchers. He was also often employed in making
bread, and in fact was a sort of universal genius and could do almost
anything. At the instance of General Washington he was also employed at
times to aid in negotiating treaties of friendship with the Indians. But
after being transferred several times from one military point to
another, and suffering more or less from hardships, his health became so
impaired that the principal surgeon gave him a discharge, and he
returned to his home in Massachusetts. He soon afterward so far
recovered that he re-enlisted and served as an orderly sergeant in
defence of the seaport towns till the 1st of January, 1778, when his
time expired, and he returned to his father's house once more, having
been in the service a little more than three years. He received, on
retiring from the army, about two hundred dollars in paper currency,
which was so depreciated that he could not purchase with the whole of it
a decent coat. He then (for the next six months) engaged in the business
of weaving on shares, and during that time wove sixteen hundred yards of
plain cloth. This enabled him to clothe himself decently, and to spend
the ensuing winter in improving his education. At this time, as he said,
he "had no Christian hope," but continued to labor and study during the
year 1779, when a religious revival occurred, and he acquired a
Christian hope, with a determination to fit himself for the ministry.
Encouraged by his friend, Rev. Mr. Day, he prosecuted the requisite
preliminary studies, and at the same time taught a family school in
order to meet his expenses. He entered college in 1781, and graduated in
1785. He then studied theology, and was licensed to preach in 1786. He
soon received a call and was ordained as pastor of the church at
Blandford, Mass. He had previously married Miss Lois Noble, who was a
young lady of refinement and exemplary piety. In October, 1800, he
resigned his pastorship at Blandford and received a regular dismissal.
The Connecticut Missionary Society, whose central office was at
Hartford, had formed a high estimate of the character and piety of Rev.
Joseph Badger, and at once tendered him the appointment to go, under the
auspices of the society, as a missionary to the Western Reserve. This
was the kind of Christian labor in which he preferred to engage. He
therefore accepted the appointment; and leaving his family at home until
he could explore somewhat his new field of service, he took his
departure on horseback, Nov. 15, 1800, bound for the Western Reserve. He
took what was then called the southern route, crossed the Alleghany
mountains in the midst of a snow-storm, and after a weary journey,
arrived at Pittsburgh on the 14th of December. Here he rested for a day
or two, and then resumed his "journey through the wilderness," and after
a weary ride of nearly a hundred miles, reached Youngstown, one of the
earliest settlements in the Reserve, on Saturday night at a late hour,
and was kindly received. The next day he preached at Youngstown his
first sermon in the Reserve. The town at that time consisted of some
half-dozen log cabins. His audience included nearly every soul in town,
though but a handful, who had assembled in one of the larger cabins, and
who seemed pleased to receive from his lips "the good tidings of great
joy." Gratified with his reception at Youngstown, and resolving to lose
no time in expediting his missionary labors, he rode the next day to
Vienna, where but one family had settled; thence to Hartford, where but
three families had settled, and thence to Vernon, where he found but
five families. In making these successive visits he did good work. While
at Vernon he was informed that Mr. Palmer, the head of the family
settled at Vienna, had been taken suddenly sick and was not expected to
live. There was no doctor residing in all that region of country. Rev.
Mr. Badger hastened at once to the relief of the sick man, and nursed
him for eight days, when he so far recovered that his providential nurse
could safely leave him. In this way Rev. Mr. Badger visited, in the
course of the year 1801, every settlement and nearly every family
throughout the Western Reserve. In doing this he often rode from five to
twenty-five or thirty miles a day, carrying with him in saddlebags a
scanty supply of clothing and eatables, and often traversing pathless
woodlands amid storms and tempests, swimming unbridged rivers, and
suffering from cold and hunger, and at the same time here and there
visiting lone families, giving them and their children religious
instruction and wholesome advice, and preaching at points wherever a few
could be gathered together, sometimes in a log cabin or in a barn, and
sometimes in the open field or in a woodland, beneath the shadows of the
trees. At about this time he preached the first sermon ever heard in
Cleveland. In response to all this benevolent work he had the
satisfaction of knowing that he was almost universally received with a
heartfelt appreciation of his services, and with a liberal hospitality.
Though most of the early settlers were poor, they cheerfully "broke
bread with him," and gave him the larger share of such luxuries as they
happened to have at command. Even the Indians, who were quite numerous,
treated him kindly and with respect. He took especial pains to enlighten
and instruct them, and soon acquired such a knowledge of their language
as enabled him to communicate readily with them.
In September of 1801, he journeyed on horseback to Detroit, with a view
to extend the field of his missionary labors. On reaching the banks of
the Huron River, late in the evening, he stopped at an Indian hut,
desiring to remain for the night. He was kindly received by the
inmates,--an aged Indian chief and his squaw. The squaw cut fodder from
the cornfield and fed his horse, and soon presented him with a supper of
boiled string-beans, buttered with bear's oil, in a wooden bowl that was
cut and carved out from the knot of a tree with a hatchet and knife.
Hungry as he really was, he relished the feast. She then spread for him
on the floor a bed of bearskins and clean blankets, on which he enjoyed
a refreshing night's sleep. In the morning she gave him for breakfast a
corn-bread cake, baked in the embers. It contained inside a sprinkling
of black beans, and resembled plum-cake. While he was eating, he
expressed his admiration of the bread. The squaw replied, "Eat; it is
good. It is such bread as God gives the Indians." He then resumed his
journey to Detroit, where he remained a few days. While there, and while
on his way to and from there, he held religious interviews with all he
met who were willing to converse in relation to their spiritual welfare,
whether white men or Indians, but found no one, as he said, in all that
region, whom he could regard as a Christian, "except a black man, who
appeared pious." On his return he visited Hudson, where he found a few
professors of religion. Here he organized a church, consisting of ten
males and six females. This was the first church organized in the
Western Reserve. The next morning, October 25, he took his departure
from the Reserve, and returned by way of Buffalo to his family in New
England, preaching, as he went, at such settlements as offered a
favorable opportunity. He arrived at home Jan. 1, 1802, after an absence
of thirteen months and fifteen days. He found his dear family all well,
and like David of old, blessed the Lord, who had "redeemed his life from
destruction and crowned him with loving-kindness and tender mercies."
Soon after his arrival, he visited Hartford and reported to the
missionary society what he had done, and the character of his work, and
agreed to return with his family to the same field of missionary labor,
and for such compensation as the society chose to allow him, which was
but seven dollars per week. This was at that time considered a
sufficient sum to meet the current expenses of himself and family. He
exchanged his former homestead at Blandford for land in the Western
Reserve. On the 23d of February, 1802, he started on his journey to the
Western Reserve in a wagon drawn by four horses and loaded with a few
household goods, his wife and six children, and himself driving the
team. He took the route leading through the State of New York to
Buffalo, and thence followed the southerly shore of Lake Erie to
Austinburg, in the Reserve, where he and his family were received with a
hearty welcome to the home and hospitalities of his friend, Colonel
Eliphalet Austin. He accomplished the journey, a distance of six hundred
miles, in sixty days. This was travelling at a pretty rapid rate, as was
then thought. He remarked, when he had reached the hospitable home of
his friend Austin, that he and his family seemed destined to share God's
promise to his ancient Israel: "And they shall dwell safely in the
wilderness, and sleep in the woods."