Our Pioneer Journalist.
The first periodical issued in the name of the United Brethren Church was edited and published in 1829 by Rev. Aaron Farmer, of Indiana. Of that devoted band of United Brethren preachers who invaded Indiana in the early days, he was one of the most widely known and respected. Bishop Henry Kumler, Sr., was a great admirer of Sir. Farmer, and often mentioned him in naming the marked men of early United Brethrenism in Ohio and Indiana. Every reference made to his brief, though marvelously successful career, by his contemporaries, impresses the reader with a heroism and grandeur that can only attach to a great character.
Of the parentage, birthplace, and early history of Mr. Farmer nothing is recorded, but he, no doubt, inherited from his humble German home, wherever it was located, those rugged, virile qualities which have borne fruitage in a life of remarkable usefulness to the world and to the kingdom of God. Born among the poor, and in a new country, his early advantages were of necessity very limited, but he developed for himself a keen sense of the value and necessity of a well-stored and disciplined mind. His wide reading, his general knowledge of men and things, made him one of the best informed men of his conference.
Mr. Farmer was born in the year 1799. His conversion occurred in 1823. The following year he joined the Miami Conference, when his itinerant life began. From that time until the day of his death, fifteen years later, he gave full proof of his calling. Having once put his hands to the plow, he looked not back. He gave himself, heart, and soul, and mind, and strength, to the work of his ministry. With unfaltering purpose, with apostolic zeal, with heroic faith that feared no danger and surmounted every obstacle, he went forward as duty called.
It has already been said that Mr. Farmer began his ministry in 1824. At that time he was appointed by the conference to his first charge, known as "Orange Circuit." The territory comprised portions of five sparsely-settled counties. Clad in homespun, and with Testament in his pocket, he started upon his mission. In those days the rivers were without bridges, and most of the country was a dense wilderness. The cabin of the frontiersman was a rude structure of logs, often with but a single room, with the naked earth as its floor. These early missionaries were often obliged to swim the rivers with their horses, to trail their own way through the wilderness, and, for long periods at a time, to suffer the privations and hardships of pioneer life.
John Lawrence, in his church history, in his own peculiarly interesting way, gives the following picture of the pioneer preacher's studio: "I would show the reader the interior of a log cabin, in one end of which are the beds; in a corner, near the fire, the rude cupboard and table, the latter made of a broad puncheon, clean and white; around the great log fire, I would introduce to him six or seven children, the youngest in the lap of its mother. In the midst of this interesting group I would place the young preacher. The hard travel of the day is past. His horse has been placed under a shed; his overcoat and leggins are drying before the fire; the wind howls around the cabin, and the snow beats against the window panes, while he is sitting, Bible in hand, preparing his sermon. In such a studio sermons have been prepared which would not discredit our best city pulpits to-day."
Mr. Farmer was retained three years on the Orange Circuit, with constantly increasing popularity and usefulness. During this time he had attained such distinction as a preacher that he was sought for beyond the limits of any circuit or mission the conference might assign him. The borders of his wilderness-mission were constantly enlarged, until it required several weeks to perform one round, giving each community preaching once a month. He was much of the time a homeless wanderer. His life was one of constant toil, of extreme poverty, crowded with privations and hardships. And yet, as if inspired and fortified by an Abrahamic call, bidding him go up and become the possessor of lands which he knew not, he deliberately gave himself to the work with unfaltering devotion.
A historian pays the following splendid tribute to the heroic life and work of this faithful hero: "Having the heart of a pioneer missionary, he could not neglect the calls from the scattered sheep, although the labor which an acceptance of these calls involved was immense." "I have known him," says William Davis, his intimate friend, "to ride forty miles, and preach three sermons in a day; and though unbridged streams and high water might cross his path, he never hesitated to swim them, no matter how great the danger or the exposure."
The life and work of Mr. Farmer occupies a distinctive place in the early history of the denomination. In a very special sense he may be classed as the John the Baptist of the publishing interests of the Church. Up until this time the salvation of souls was the all-absorbing thought of the pioneer minister, and but little attention was given to the organization of the forces. Dr. William McKee, in his history of Miami Conference, referring to Mr. Farmer and the period in which he wrought so nobly, says: "The fathers now began to see that, though they had accomplished great good by the means employed in the souls they had been instrumental in saving, and the classes that were organized, the increasing population and the advancing intelligence of the people, required that something more be done for the permanent growth of the Church than holding protracted meetings. These were good, and of first importance, but not all. The wilderness must not only be cleared, but the land must be cultivated. They had enlisted a great army of soldiers. These must be trained in the art of war, and to go out on an active and aggressive campaign against the enemy. They must have something to do, both for their own development, and the saving of their children and the generations yet unborn."
The age of construction in the life and work of the denomination had dawned; an advanced step must now be taken. The fathers began to see in that early day, what became more manifestly apparent later on, that no movement could live and grow without its own educational and propagandic institutions. It now became evident that in order to make permanent the great movement which God had called into existence, it would be necessary to employ the use of the press, and later on the place of the college was recognized.
Mr. Farmer was a leader and a prophet that thought in advance of his times. He had a seer-like grasp of the future, and was constructive in his work. His belief deepened into a conviction that in the process of building a great church, the voice of the preacher must be supplemented by the message of the printed page, and he had the ambition to vitalize this conviction into permanent working form.
With characteristic zeal this courageous man undertook the enterprise. In 1829, at Salem, Indiana, he sent forth the pioneer denominational journal. The title, "Zion's Advocate," was significant. "Had it lived and fulfilled its mission, as it was photographed in the mind and heart of this earnest man of God, the name, Religious Telescope, might never have been heard, and the printing establishment might have been located in Salem instead of Dayton." The enterprise was undertaken under the auspices of the Miami Conference. The restrictions of the conference as to doctrinal teaching and unprofitable controversy are interesting. They appear in the minutes of the session of 1829, and are as follows:
I. That Zion's Advocate was to contain doctrine consonant with the church of the United Brethren in Christ.
II. It is not to be devoted to unprofitable controversy.
III. It is to be printed on good paper and neatly executed.
IV. It is to be edited by Aaron Farmer.
The requirement of the conference, as expressed in the third item, excites a smile, when it is remembered that Mr. Farmer was to personally assume the financial responsibility of the enterprise. However, the wishes of the conference were honored. A good quality of paper was used, and the mechanical appearance of the journal was most commendable for that day.
But the limited patronage soon revealed the fact that "the conference was better at giving advice as to the management of the paper than in supporting it--a lesson that has been often repeated, both by individuals and large bodies of men." It soon became apparent to Mr. Farmer that it would not be possible to secure sufficient support to continue the publication of the paper. This was one of the bitter trials in the life of this heroic man. "The wonder is not," says Doctor McKee, "that the fathers made some blunders, and advanced slowly, but that they succeeded so well in the face of such great discouragements; that they took so many advanced steps, stepped so firmly, and, did not retreat, grow weary and faint, or remain quiet and content to plod on by the old methods, or rather the want of system, until their opportunity had gone by and others were risen up to do the work that Providence had assigned to them."
It would not be correct to say that Mr. Farmer's adventure was a failure, even though, by force of circumstances, he was compelled to discontinue the publication of his journal. The enterprise served to show the trend of the thought and purpose of the fathers during that early period of religious activity. The paper was published in response to a vital need of the young denomination. It made possible the action of the General Conference four years later, providing for the establishment of a denominational publishing house. The present splendid institution, upon which the Church can well look with pride, is the fruitage of the seed-sowing of Aaron Farmer and a few other seers of his day, such as John Russell and William R. Rinehart.
When the General Conference of 1833 convened, the conviction was profound that a denominational paper had now become a necessity. It was the voice of God biding the Church go forward, and she was not disobedient to the call. There was in sight no such denominational wealth as to justify the support of the enterprise. The work was, with the founders, one of love and of faith, prompted by a deep conviction of the needs of the people. Circleville, Ohio, was selected as the sight of the new institution. The board of trustees, composed of John Russell, Jonathan Dresback, and George Dresback, proceeded cautiously in the discharge of their duties, and it was not until the thirty-first of December, 1834, more than a year and a half from the time it was ordered, that the first number of the new paper appeared. It was issued under the title, which it has since retained unchanged--The Religious Telescope. The paper bore the name of William R. Rinehart as its first editor. He had started, during the year 1834, a paper at Hagerstown, Maryland, entitled The Mountain Messenger, which was merged into the new official publication.
From the human side, this first department of the organized work of the denomination was started under auspices apparently most forbiding. The work was begun with liabilities amounting to sixteen hundred dollars, and soon the debt reached six thousand dollars. "It would certainly have failed had it not been sustained by the courage and ample credit of the trustees." Under this financial burden the officers toiled for more than a dozen years, and it was not until 1849 that the House was relieved of the indebtedness incurred in the launching of the new enterprise.
In looking back over the eighty-two years since the little journal was started by Mr. Farmer, which resulted in the founding of a publishing house five years later, we can but marvel at the growth of the institution. From its borrowed capital of sixteen hundred dollars, it has progressed until it now has a net property of one million dollars. In equipment and financial standing, it rates second to none in the land. It has never made any compromises with its creditors, but has always paid one hundred cents on the dollar of its material obligations.
The institution has contributed many thousands of dollars to cheer and brighten the closing days of our aged ministers, but its highest service and greatest glory appears in the fact that it is sending forth annually to United Brethrenism, and to its affiliated patronage, not less than seventy-five full carloads of pure and uplifting literature. Best of all, in the light of reasonable possibilities, the institution is but in the youthful beginnings of its great career. The future will witness its greatest service to the Church and the world. We pause to wonder whether our pioneer journalist ever had any adequate forecast of how great an institution was to rise upon the foundations he was laying.
Mr. Farmer is spoken of by his associates as a man of rare power in the pulpit. In the out-goings and outgivings of his personality there was a mystic power, by which, at will, he moved and melted and mastered men. He was erratic, if that familiar term, applied to the pioneer preachers, meant that they differed from the established conventional clergy; for those men followed no beaten track. Mr. Farmer is described as a man of commanding presence. He was five feet, ten inches in height, firmly built, face round and full, forehead broad and high, chest full. He had a strong voice, well accented; expressive gestures, and thorough earnestness of manner. "There was thought in all his words and wisdom in all his thoughts."
Great heart-power was also manifest in his ministry. "He seldom preached," says Mr. Lawrence, "to a tearless congregation; and few men have been more successful in soul-winning. Wherever he went, for a period of fifteen years, the people flocked in crowds to hear him; and he had the happiness of seeing added unto the Church, almost daily, such as are saved. He had a passion for souls, which no labors, sorrows, or hardships could abate. He went forth weeping, and in the harvest few men will have more sheaves." "He played upon the emotions of his audience as upon a stringed instrument." Once, when preaching on "The Rich Man and Lazarus," he hesitated for a few minutes, when a death-like stillness prevailed; then he uttered the rich man's prayer: "Send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in a cup of cold water and cool my parched tongue." Suiting the action to the word, he dipped his finger into a glass of water, and allowed a drop to fall on his tongue. The effect was wonderful.
Mr. Farmer wielded a great influence over young men. Of those awakened and converted through his efforts were a number who entered the ministry, some of whom became eminently useful preachers. His public ministry was supplemented by personal effort in winning men, and discovering and developing those whom God had called into the Christian ministry. A great leader has made the criticism upon the present-day organized Christianity, that it is lacking in personal dealing with men. That was not true of this hero of the cross. He was a man of prayer, of deep personal piety. His spirit gripped men. He was first among his associates in service and in sacrifice. During the closing years of his life he was presiding elder of the Indianapolis District, in his own conference, which included about half of that great State. When he moved among his brethren with the authority of a military chieftain, that authority was always respected, because he himself was uniformly a war-leader, and at the forefront in the battles. It was a perpetual object lesson, inspiring to magnificent work. It transformed the preachers of his district into heroes.
The field of Mr. Farmer's toil was mainly Ohio and Indiana. At one time, however, he took a long missionary tour beyond these borders, during which he visited portions of Tennessee, Illinois, and Missouri. He never grew tired of his tasks, though he often grew weary under them. A few days before his death, when conversing with a brother about the hardships to which the pioneer ministers were necessarily subjected, he said: "Although I have faced the fierce winds, and often almost perished with cold, and although I have been sent many miles from home, and have received very little support, my salary ranging from twenty-five to sixty dollars a year, yet, should I never meet my brethren in a conference again, they will bear me witness that I never complained."
A high tribute to the piety of Mr. Farmer's humble pioneer home is found in the fact that each of his seven children was early won to Christ, and they became active church-workers. This hero of the cross was greatly encouraged in his arduous toil by the devotion of his faithful wife, who maintained family worship during the long periods of his absence. The cabin in which they lived had scanty furnishings, but it was home; there love reigned supreme. Many of the faithful wives of those heroic men are not named, but they were heroines. Beautiful crowns will bedeck their brows in heaven, even though they had no recognition upon the earth. The following extracts from a letter, reporting his work, written about six months before his death, and appearing in the Telescope of September 19, 1838, give something of an insight into the character and labors of this heroic man, and contain a very tender allusion to the partner of his toils:
"Our fourth quarterly meeting on Indianapolis Circuit began on the last Saturday in July. Great blessing attended the communion on Sunday evening. .... At a two-days' meeting in the wilds of Indiana, near the Miami Indian Reserve, God was with us of a truth. Saints rejoiced and sinners wept. At the close there were but few who did not come forward and give their hands, desiring to be prayed for. On Tuesday, in company with Brother Davis, I preached in Andersontown, Indiana, to a large and mixed assembly--infidels of ancient and modern type, and some true believers and friends of God and man. On Friday our first camp-meeting opened near Middletown, Indiana. Every sermon and every prayer seemed to be seasoned. There were no visible awakenings until the afternoon of the second day, when the cries of sinners were heard. On Monday a number were converted. .... Other appointments compelled me to close with great reluctance, leaving perhaps fifty trembling mourners.
"I pursued my way to the second camp-meeting, preaching twice a day, and reaching the camp ground near Indianapolis on Friday, July 10. The meeting gradually grew better. I introduced the love feast before the sacrament on Sunday night. God was in our midst, and the meeting continued until midnight. After a farewell sermon on Monday forenoon, we met at the table of our Father. There I met my dear Gitty (referring to his devoted wife), who had riden forty miles to meet me at the Lord's table, where he was manifest unto us in the breaking of bread." It was a strong tie which bound these two hearts in love, hope, and purpose. The Church owes as much to those faithful heroines as it does to their husbands, whom they cheered on to victory.
Mr. Farmer was called from labor to reward when at the very zenith of his power and usefulness. To measure as we measure time, his life was short, but measured by the standard of good accomplished, that brief span of life was full, complete, and inspiring. A few days previous to his death, when riding in company with a brother minister, he remarked that his time would soon come to a, close, and burst into a flood of tears, exhorting his friend to be faithful to his charge. He was now about forty years of age. He had no decadence of power, none of the yellow mould of old age was upon him; there was no lack of strength and enthusiasm, of enterprise and vision; but full-sunned and orbed in all his powers, he at once ceased to labor and to live.
It was on the evening of the first day of March, 1839, when his departure occurred. Just before the chariot came, while his neighbors were conversing around his bed, he asked them to be quiet. "Gitty," he said, for this was the familiar name by which he called his faithful companion, "Gitty, come here and listen." "To what shall I listen?" she replied. "Why," said he, in surprise, "Don't you hear that singing?" "No," said she, "I do not." "Oh," he continued, as a smile played over his face, "it is the sweetest music I have ever heard in all my life. Heavenly messengers have come for me and I must go." With this he asked them to raise him up and give him a cup of water. He took the cup, drank, and then, with a smile, closed his eyes in death. Thus went to his reward a man of apostolic zeal, one whose record can never perish.
It is a matter of regret that no picture of this pioneer missionary, editor and publisher, has been handed down to the Church. After a special effort covering a period of six months, we have failed to locate his grave. It is supposed that his body rests in a cemetery near Williamsburg, Indiana. If so, the grave is unmarked. God knows the location, and angels will guard the sacred dust until the resurrection mom. He has a memorial more enduring than marble or granite in the good he accomplished, which lives after him in ever enlarging results.