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."