W. Ed. Snyder

Character Sketch.

The analysis of a flower is the work, not of the florist, but of the botanist. The florist sees in the combination of the various parts the beauty of a perfected whole, while the botanist sees the parts separated and classified but loses sight of the flower itself. The florist’s viewpoint is preferable to that of the botanist. This is no less true in dealing with human life than in the treatment of a flower. However, in the interest of thoroughness, some attention should be given to a study of the particular elements of character which give to our subject his peculiar individuality and made possible that degree of eminence which he has won for himself. The task is not an easy one. This is true in the case of all men of superior strength. The sources of power are so embedded in the depths of one’s personality as to make them difficult to trace. In the presence of such men we are instinctively aware of their superiority, but if asked to give a reason for our impressions we would be unable to do so. The power of a personality is to be felt rather than explained or analyzed. It is this invisible, undefinable something that lifts the man above the level of the commonplace and gives him a commanding influence among his fellows.

The strength of some characters is due to one or two exceptionally strong traits, while in other particulars they may be correspondingly weak. The world sees only the mountain peaks of strength and upon them it builds its estimate of the man. To this rule Rev. A. J. Newgent is one of the rare exceptions. “Like a tree planted by the rivers of water,” the distinctive feature of his life is rather in the full and symmetrical development of the various qualities of mature and well-rounded manhood. Hence, he is essentially a man of the people—not a man of one class, but of all classes, the embodiment of the true spirit of democracy. Like Paul, he can be all things to all men without sacrificing principle or dignity or losing the respect of any of them. His sympathies are broad and deep, and go out to all alike. There is no assumed or conscious superiority to create a barrier between himself and the humblest soul. He observes no arbitrary distinctions. Whoever he chances to meet is at once a friend and brother. He possesses in a large degree the rare faculty of making people feel at home in his presence. Fads and snobs and artificiality he hates as he hates sin. The glitter and tinsel show of life are counted as dross, but the pure gold of human character that needs no outward adornment is his delight.

His well-balanced temperament enables him to so adjust himself to different conditions, that he is invariably master of the situation in which he may be placed. In the home, whether marked by riches or poverty, culture or illiteracy, he is always the same genial guest. To the children, young people, and old folks alike, the presence of “Uncle Jack” is always welcome. In his public ministry, whatever the demands of the occasion, he is ready to meet them. Never is he at the mercy of his surroundings. Not many months ago, while doing service as field secretary for Indiana Central University, he was secured by the pastor of a country church to hold an all-day meeting. The morning program was interfered with by a severe rainstorm, so that besides himself and the pastor, only three persons were present. Yet, he preached to his small audience with his wonted zeal and earnestness, the effort being pronounced by those who heard it superior to the one in the afternoon, when he had the inspiration of a full house.

He never follows the beaten paths simply because others have walked therein. The fact that some one else did a thing in a certain way is not sufficient reason why he should proceed upon the same plan. He imitates no one and it is safe to say no one imitates him, for the reason that he is so intensely original; the processes of his mind are so completely his own that no one could well repeat them. Bishop Edwards once said, “There is one man whose sermons no one has ever tried to copy; that man is Newgent.” This originality has been a valuable asset in debate. His opponent might come with his mind well furnished with all the laws of logic, the tactics known to debaters, and the arguments on both sides of the question well in hand, only to find his materials practically useless. Rev. Mr. Newgent’s method being so unique, his approach to the subject from such unexpected angles, and his presentation of unheard-of arguments in defending his position, while transgressing no valid law of debate or of logic, made him a law unto himself. The opinions of other men rather than being accepted as authority, only serve to quicken his thought and incite to investigation. In preaching he is purely extemporaneous, often deferring the selection of a text or theme until after he enters the pulpit. But his resourceful mind, well stocked with information, the result of general reading and observation, and his aptness at illustration, rendered safe for him what to some men would be a hazardous undertaking.

While original in his thinking, he never discredits the opinions of others, no matter how widely they may differ from his own. Honesty and sincerity he regards as superior to articles of faith. “If no one gets to heaven except those who believe as I do,” he often says, “the audience there will be rather small.” David said, in his haste, “All men are liars.” If Rev. Mr. Newgent should err in his judgment of mankind, it would more likely be in the opposite direction. A source of strength is his faith in men, their possibilities and aspirations for better things. To be a leader of men, this faith is imperative. Beneath the surface shale of human differences, selfishness and error, may be found a sub-stratum of genuine manhood. And upon this the true builder must build. He must recognize that he is dealing with intelligent beings who can think and feel, and who are possessed with a sense of honor and self-respect. The man who would inspire others to higher things must not despise or ignore these vital factors of individual consciousness. There are sacred precincts in every life which the owner has a right to guard as with a flaming sword, and which should not be approached except with unsandaled feet and sanctified hands. That there is more real incentive to noble effort in a vision of the possibilities and beauty of a noble life than in the lash, is a prominent article in Rev. Mr. Newgent’s faith. The spirit of “anti-ism” and the methods used by a certain type of evangelists of pouring out the vials of their sarcastic and vituperative wrath upon men and things in general are offensive to him in the extreme. Hence, the positive note is always dominant in his preaching.

The secret of getting on with men is in knowing what chord to strike to get the desired response. That he knows well the secret, the achievements of his career bear ample testimony. An incident in his boyhood may not be out of place here, as it illustrates the principle by which he has been actuated throughout his entire life in his relations with men. He was employed at a saw-mill. The logs were hauled from the forest to the mill with oxen. That an ox team is no friend to grace, is the general verdict of those who have experimental knowledge of ox-driving. One large, burly team in particular that was noted for obstinacy and general degeneracy, had defied all the skill and whips and profanity the driver could produce. He repeatedly had gone to the woods for his load and returned with the empty wagon. At a critical point in the road the team would balk and refuse to budge until the wagon was unloaded. It became a standing challenge to the entire crowd, different ones of whom accepted the challenge, with the same result. Finally Jack, as he was then called, asked permission to try. He was only a spindling lad of a hundred-weight avoirdupois, and the very suggestion was met with jeers. “Have you ever driven oxen?” he was asked. “No,” was the reply, “but I think I have ox sense.” They finally consented, but no one expected anything but another failure. The driver offered him the whip. “I don’t need the whip,” he said, and started for his charge. He made friends with his dumb servants, rubbed their ears, spoke to them coaxingly, and soon had them on the way to the woods. He took the precaution to provide himself with a small bag of corn. He succeeded in getting the log on the wagon and again patted the oxen, and as a reward of merit, gave them each a nubbin, letting them see that there was more in the bag that would be available if they proved worthy. Thus, as he said, he “sooked” them along, and to the astonishment of the mill hands, arrived in an unusually short time with a large log. It was not only a lesson to the men, but to himself as well, by which he has profited throughout his entire life. He has verified the fact many times that “sooking” will succeed with men as well as oxen when the whip will fail.

There are two kinds of leadership among men. One is the arbitrary leadership of the boss; the other is natural, a true leadership, which has for its basis personal strength and merit. The former is transient, having no real place among thinking and liberty-loving people. The other is abiding, for the true leader is ever in demand.

This latter type is quaintly set forth in Longfellow’s “Song of Hiawatha”:

It is the woman’s leadership—controlling by obedience, leading by following. A paradox, perhaps, but supported by the logic of actual achievements in every realm of human endeavor. The workman controls the force of a stream by obeying that force. Should he plant his turbine on the hilltop and command the water to flow up the hill and turn the wheel, the stream would only laugh at his impudence as it rippled on its way. But when he plants his wheel in the current, the stream at once becomes his servant. It is the principle observed by the engineer, the sailor, the electrician, or the aviator in harnessing and utilizing the various forces of nature. The same principle lies at the basis of all true leadership in society, church, or state. The strict observance of it has enabled Rev. Mr. Newgent to touch the motive springs of character by means of which men are aroused to action. His close sympathy with men ever gives him an unconscious, commanding influence. And this influence is always turned to account in their own uplifting and in the advancement of righteousness. Out of over a half-century in the public ministry, about one-half of his time has been spent as presiding elder. This official relation does not afford the opportunity for evangelistic and other forms of direct church work as does the pastorate; so that definite, visible results cannot readily be computed. Yet, few men have built for themselves greater or more enduring monuments in the line of tangible results. More than six thousand members have been gathered into the denomination through his labors. Thirty church-houses stand to his credit as a church builder. He has officiated at about one hundred dedicatory exercises, a recognition of his ability as a money-getter. On Chautauqua platforms and special occasions of both a religious and semi-religious character he has been a prominent figure. And his advice is always at a premium in the counsels of the denomination.

It has been well said, “When God made wit, he pronounced it good.” Rev. Mr. Newgent has demonstrated the practical utility of sanctified wit and humor. It is possible, however, that his humor has led to more misconception of his character than any other thing that could be mentioned. The trait that touches the most popular chord is likely to be so magnified as to shut from view others of equal or greater significance. The fame of an author not infrequently rests upon a single production, and that by no means his best. Edward Eggleston did not regard the “Hoosier Schoolmaster” as the best of his works, but multitudes who have been charmed by that simple story will never know that he ever wrote anything else.

That Rev. Mr. Newgent has in some degree suffered in a similar manner is, therefore, nothing more than might be expected. Yet, if his humor, in the minds of some, would reduce him to the level of a mere jokesmith, to him it has been an invaluable asset. It has served to open the way for the assertion of the more substantial and practical qualities; it has enabled him to capture hostile and even riotous audiences; with it he has battered down strongholds of opposition; it has been an effective weapon against false doctrine, hypocrisy, and deep-seated vice in its various forms; it has served as the sugar coating for truths that were unpleasant because of a perverted taste; he has found it a splendid tonic to dispense with more solid food to aid the digestion of mental and spiritual dyspeptics. His humor is of the spontaneous sort, ready to boil over whenever the lid is removed. It flows out through his discourses and conversations as naturally as the stream gushes from the fountain, and is always mellowed by tenderness and a deep human sympathy.

“Where dwellest thou?” was asked of the Son of Man. The question was of greater significance than the interrogator supposed, and the answer was even more significant. The Savior did not say, in Galilee or Palestine, or Nazareth, but simply, “Come and see.” A man’s habitation is not a matter of geographical boundary. Should the question be addressed to Rev. Mr. Newgent, he would say, “I live on the sunny side of the street.” A critic of Emerson said that because of his unorthodoxy he was doomed to go to hell. A contemporary who was acquainted with Emerson’s kindly and genial disposition remarked that if he did, he would change the climate. Rev. Mr. Newgent not only lives on the sunny side of the street, but he carries sunshine with him. He has a knack of distilling sunshine from every circumstance of life. He changes the climate to suit his own temperament. With Solomon, he believes in the medical virtues of a smile, that “a merry heart doeth good like a medicine.”

He was once called to visit a woman in the mountains of east Tennessee, whom he had never seen. She was supposed to be dying of consumption. It was late at night when he arrived and the weather was inclement. The physician was leaving the house as he approached. On learning who he was, the physician told him he was too late; the lady was dying. He went at once to her bedside, and found that the death sweat had begun to gather and the death rattle was in her throat. He lifted up her head gently and spoke to her. Her face brightened, and presently she began to talk. She told him that she was glad he had come, that she must soon die, and feared she would have to go without seeing him.

But in a voice tender but cheerful, he told her he was glad to do her any favor, and added, “But don’t be in a hurry about going. I wouldn’t go to-night, if I were you. The night is dark and stormy, and you might get lost in these mountains. You had better wait until morning. It will be so much better to go in the day time.” She smiled at the eccentricity of the remarks, and seemed to make up her mind to take the advice. Morning found her much improved, having apparently decided to postpone the matter indefinitely. And contrary to the predictions of her physician and friends, she recovered to thank the preacher rather than the physician for prolonging her days.

To him there are “sermons in stone, and books in the running brooks.” He finds in the commonest things and most commonplace occurrence of everyday life, lessons of practical truth that enrich and adorn his discourses. Once while in his company we were stopping at a hotel for dinner. While we were seated at the table, some one dropped a coin in the slot of an automatic music machine, at which it began to grind out a familiar tune. Rev. Mr. Newgent on observing the operation, quoted the language of Job, “I caused the widow’s heart to sing for joy,” and added, “Don’t you suppose that was Job’s way of making people sing for joy—with a bit of money?” And subsequently the illustration was used with fine effect in a discourse on benevolence.

Underlying all, and harmonizing all the elements of his personality is a firm and abiding faith in God. It is doubtless easier for some persons to be religious than for others. In this respect he has been favored. The natural bent of his mind from earliest childhood was toward religion. Converted at the age of ten, his entire life has been controlled by a strong and steady devotion to religious ideals. His faith is broad and well balanced. Religious affectation and fads have no part with him. His religious character was formed amid the strife and controversies of various creeds in a day when creed was everything. These controversies drove him to a critical study of the various systems of theology in the light of the Bible. He made the Word of God his sole authority in all doctrinal matters. That which he recognized as supported by the Book, he made his own. That he defended without apology or compromise. While he is dogmatic to a large degree, his dogmatism is of a practical sort. He believes that there is a vital relation between doctrine and Christian character. A true life cannot be built upon erroneous or crooked theology. He often deplores the fact that the church has swung away from the strict, doctrinal teaching of the past, believing that in consequence it has suffered the loss of spiritual vitality and zeal.

His faith is as simple as it is broad and deep. The essentials of religion are few and easily comprehended. The simplicity of gospel truth when properly presented is one of its strongest attractive elements. In many instances the simple gospel has been complicated and obscured by a mass of theological rubbish heaped up by men more interested in a creed than in the ultimate truth. If the rubbish is cleared away, the truth will shine forth clear and distinct in its beauty, and men will accept it. To remove the rubbish and give a clear setting to the simple, vital elements of Christian faith seems to have been a large part of his appointed task. This is among his chief contributions to the cause of pure and undefiled religion.

To the simplicity of his faith should be added another quality, perhaps best described by the word “practical.” With him faith is an intensely practical thing. The faith that expresses itself merely in stock phrases, articles of a creed or church membership is, to say the least, a base counterfeit, a useless commodity. Nothing seems to him more irreligious than the religion that begins and ends in noise. Genuine faith has a personal, spiritual, and commercial value. Its highest expression is in doing something that ought to be done. It crystallizes into character, and contributes to human welfare. It places its possessor upon the broad highway of the world’s need, bringing him into sympathetic touch with the throbbing heart-life of humanity. Thus he maintains the sound Scriptural philosophy that faith is to be tested by works.

The church has profited largely from his beneficence. A habit which he has followed throughout his ministry is, as he says, “to live like a poor man and give like a rich man”—that is, like a rich man ought to give. He never turns down a worthy call for help. Even should there be a question as to the merit of the call, he usually gives it the benefit of the doubt. “His house is known to all the vagrant train,” and, to borrow another quaint phrase from Goldsmith, “even his faults lean to virtue’s side.” The tramp that comes to his door gets with his dinner a genial smile and wholesome words of admonition, even though the dinner, the smile, and the admonition are lost upon a worthless subject.

In dedicating churches he has made it a general rule to give his own subscription for an amount equal to the largest on the list. On a number of occasions, under pressure of a great need, he has pledged more than he was worth, in the faith that God would open the way for meeting the obligation. And his faith in every such case has been vindicated. His life illustrates the Bible doctrine of increasing by scattering. He surely has scattered with a lavish hand. He has not only observed the Lord’s tithe in his benevolence, but has gone quite beyond it, even to the giving, in some instances, of the greater part of his income to the Lord’s cause. Yet with it all, he has increased in temporal possessions. He has honored God with his substance, and God has smiled graciously upon him, so that with David he can well say, “I once was young, but now am old, yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.”