Memoir of Rev. Joseph Badger / Fourth Edition

by E. G. Holland

RETIRED LIFE—READING—TRAVELS—DEPARTURE—1848 TO 1852.

The mind of Mr. Badger was in reality less impaired than his ability to manifest it. In company, perhaps most persons judge of mind almost wholly from its vocal manifestations. Hence a diversity of opinion and report that went abroad concerning his imbecility. My last interviews with him were in the winter and summer of 1850. I was joyfully surprised to perceive the error of the report that had gone abroad concerning his mental weakness. Honestly, there was then more in his brain than ever existed in the minds of those who reported him as being only a spectacle of sadness. Though his communication was slow and impaired, his clear gray eye shone with all the clearness and thoughtful penetration that it ever had done. I never enjoyed with him more interesting visits. He referred to past events with perfect accuracy of memory, related many incidents of his travels, spoke of argumentative discussions and of positions he had taken, passed judgments on men and things, which at no period of his life could have been more mature.

But ordinarily, his self-control, his power to be unaffected by disturbing causes, was said to have been much diminished; and the clearness and vigor of his mind were also said to have varied essentially at different intervals. Every day, he read, or heard some member of his family read to him, the news of the time. He kept a clear knowledge of the world's great movements; and above all, he relished the sacred news that apprised him of the welfare of Zion. All his letters of 1849 and '50 have the same conciseness and clearness of expression that always distinguished his letter-writing. In the winter of 1850 I called on him; it was evening, about 8 o'clock; found him wearing a most calm and meditative expression. There was no vivacity to cheer a visitor; but immediately one felt the calm and tranquillizing influence of his presence. In glancing over his form and features, it was readily apparent that his whole character was there, not in activity but in repose.

If I might be permitted the liberty of speaking further in the first person, and of drawing from personal reminiscence, I would state some remarks he then made. We conversed sometimes for hours. I chanced to have with me Emerson's newly issued volume, entitled Representative Men. The second day of my sojourn with him, he requested me to read from it. He called for the characters presented; after naming these, he said: "First read to me of Napoleon; after that, of Swedenborg." I did so. And invariably, as the reading passed over those striking and ingenious passages for which Mr. E. is so greatly distinguished, his eye and countenance lighted up with a smile of delight; the thoughts of the writer passed into his mind as easily as the rays of morning enter the eyes of living creatures. I only read from these two characters, and in the pages presented him he evinced the truest delight. His power to appreciate a thinker even then cost him no effort.

He also alluded to the near approach of death. He said he entertained peculiar views on that subject. He would cheerfully die in a foreign land, or far away from home. "I prefer," said he, "that my wife, children, and near friends, would not see me as a corpse. It would suit me, if Providence should so order, to bid my family a cheerful good-by some pleasant day, and in some distant part meet the summons of my God. I would wish that all their remembrances of me might be associated with cheerfulness and life, and that not a single recollection should connect me with death." These utterances, of course, were only a free statement of feeling, but they impressed me much, and were indeed characteristic of the man. He was a lover of life and of the life-like.

In June, 1850, the annual session of the New York Central Christian Conference was holden at his residence. Not wishing to partake of the excitement common to large assemblies, and particularly anxious to avoid the excitement which contact with so many old acquaintances and friends would necessarily create, he planned a journey to Manchester and Gilmanton, New Hampshire. I saw him an evening and morning before he left. He walked with me to the beautiful grove where the Sabbath meeting was to be held; on the way, he observed, "Whenever I went away to preach a dedication sermon, or to hold a meeting in a new grove, I always wanted to go upon the ground and look at the scene a day beforehand." He had a fine visit with relatives among his native hills of New Hampshire, and returned in two or three weeks.

In the spring of 1851, when his power of speech was greatly enfeebled, so much so that he could not speak intelligibly to strangers, he expressed a strong desire to go about and visit once more the churches he had formed, and see all his brethren in the ministry. Mrs. Badger made arrangements to accompany him to Parma, where the New York Western Christian Conference was held June 23, 1851. She had accompanied him on two other journeys of a similar nature, and served him as interpreter, she being able to understand him when others could not. These trips he enjoyed very much; at Parma, he sat in meeting all day Saturday, Sunday and Monday; and, using the language of Mrs. B., "he seemed to have the most profound enjoyment." Taking the precaution to rest on Tuesday, Mrs. B., in their private conveyance, started with him on Wednesday for Gaines, a distance of thirty miles, where they remained for the night; on Thursday morning they journeyed but three miles, to the town of Barry, where they tarried but a night; on Friday he arose early, in his usual health; the sun poured down his burning rays in great power. He became anxious and determined to return home. Said Mrs. B.:

"Accordingly, I started with him as soon as I could prepare; we had rode but about one mile when the last and final shock came over him, which deprived him for the time of every sense but that of intense suffering. I immediately inquired for the nearest physician, and found that we were in the vicinity of Dr. Eaton, an old friend, and one who had prescribed for him before. He was speechless, and nearly senseless when I arrived with him at the doctor's. The doctor immediately took him in, and by thorough rubbing, and bathing, and by administering hot medicines, succeeded in restoring him to a state of consciousness. From this place he was conveyed to my brother's house at Barry, where he was regularly attended by Dr. E. twice a day for one week, at the end of which time he was able to be put into his carriage and to be conveyed home, taking two days for fifty miles, which are ten miles less than he was accustomed to ride when he was well, and called himself a travelling minister. He continued to improve from that time until he was able to walk by my going alongside of him, and leading him from our house to the church. He walked in that way to meeting every Sunday till October, but never recovered his mental and physical faculties as he had them before. He always ascribed his recovery to the energetic course adopted by Dr. Eaton, when he was thrown accidentally into his hands. From the first of October he began visibly to decline, like a person in the consumption. He grew weaker and weaker, his articulation became more indistinct, until about the middle of January or first of February, he ceased to pronounce any words but Yes and No. All communication was now cut off, except such as could be answered in that manner. Many of his old friends in that space of time came to see him, Elder D. F. Ladley, of Ohio, who published an account of his visit in the Gospel Herald. It was always one of the greatest luxuries of his life to have me sit down and read to him, which was now seemingly his only remaining pleasure. This he enjoyed to the last. But from the first of April to his final exit, May 12th, 1852, he seldom ever uttered a word.