CAREER OF REV. JOSEPH BADGER.
There have been but few men in the clerical profession who have made a worthier or more exemplary life-record for themselves than Rev. Joseph Badger. He fought for liberty in the Revolution, and for Christianity in the wilds of the Western Reserve. In the one case he fought with the musket, in the other with the sword of the Spirit. Whether serving as a soldier or as a missionary, he proved himself sincere and steadfast in his devotion to duty.
Rev. Joseph Badger was born at Wilbraham, Mass., Feb. 28, 1757. He was a lineal descendant of Giles Badger, who emigrated from England and settled at Newburyport, not far from Boston, about the year 1635. The father of Joseph was Henry Badger, who married Mary Landon. They were both devoutly pious, and equally poor in this world's goods. They instructed their son Joseph, at an early age, in the catechism of the Puritan faith, and gave him such further elementary education as they were able at the domestic fireside. He grew strong in the faith as he grew to manhood, when he began to realize that in sharing life with his parents, good and kind as they were, he shared their poverty. In consulting his mirror he was often painfully reminded of the fact that his garments, patched as they were, displayed about as many colors as the coat of his ancient namesake. Inspired with the patriotic sentiment of the times, and desiring not only to provide for himself, but to obtain sufficient money to give himself a liberal education, he enlisted in 1775, when but eighteen years of age, in the Revolutionary army, as a common soldier, and was assigned to the regiment commanded by Colonel Patterson. The regiment was stationed at Fort No. 3, near Lechmere's Point, in the vicinity of Boston. At the battle of Bunker Hill this regiment was posted on Cobble Hill, in a line with the front of the American battery, and about half a mile distant, where every man of the regiment could see the fire from the whole line, and enjoy the pleasure of seeing the British break their ranks, run down the hill, and then reluctantly return to the charge. On their third return, as luck would have it, they carried the works at the point of the bayonet. This was the first time after his enlistment that young Joseph had an opportunity to smell the smoke of British gunpowder. It was some time in September of the same year he enlisted that the British landed three or four hundred men on Lechmere's Point to take off a herd of fat cattle. Colonel Patterson ordered his regiment to attack the marauders and prevent them from capturing the cattle. A sharp conflict ensued, in which Joseph tested the virtues of his musket and poured into the enemy nine or ten shots in rapid succession and with apparent effect. Several were killed and others wounded on both sides. Joseph escaped unharmed. But soon after this skirmish he took a violent cold, attended with a severe cough. His captain advised him to return home until he could recover. This he did, and within twenty days came back and rejoined his regiment quite restored to health.
The British evacuated Boston on the 17th of March, 1776. On the next day Colonel Patterson's regiment, with several other regiments, was ordered to New York, where they remained for three weeks, and were then ordered to Canada. They were transported up the Hudson to Albany, and thence by way of Lakes George and Champlain to St. Johns, and thence to La Prairie on the banks of the St. Lawrence and in sight of Montreal. On the way the troops suffered severely from exposure to rain-storms and snow-storms, and from want of provisions. They arrived at La Prairie late in the day, and in a state bordering on starvation, where they encamped supperless. The next day each soldier received a ration of a few ounces of mouldy bread for breakfast, and a thin slice of stale meat for supper. Joseph accepted his share of the dainty feast without a murmur, but doubtless thought the wayfaring soldier had a pretty "hard road to travel." A part of Colonel Patterson's regiment was then ordered up the river to a small fort at Cedar Rapids, which was besieged by a British captain with one company of regulars and about five hundred Indians, led by Brant, the famous Indian chief. The Indians were thirsting for blood. A fierce conflict ensued, which lasted for an hour or more, when the enemy was compelled to retreat towards the fort. At this juncture a parley was called, and the firing ceased. A number were killed, and more wounded. It so happened that the fifth company, to which Joseph belonged, did not arrive in time to participate in the fight, though they had approached so near the scene as to hear the firing and see the rolling cloud of battle-smoke. Joseph expressed his regret that he had lost so good an opportunity to give his flint-lock a second trial. The detachment was now ordered to retreat to La Chine,—a French village about six miles above Montreal. Here they were reinforced by the arrival of eight hundred men, under command of General Arnold. The entire force advanced to the outlet of Bason Lake, at St. Ann's, where they embarked on board the boats and steered for a certain point about three miles distant. In passing, the force was fired upon by the enemy, armed with guns and two small cannon. A shower of shot seemed to come from every direction, and as the boats containing the Americans were about to land at the point sought, they received, amid hideous yells from the Indians in ambush, a hailstorm of bullets that rattled as they struck the boats, and slightly injured some of the men. The men in the boats returned the fire as best they could. It was marvellous that none of the Americans were killed or seriously injured. "It appeared to me," said Joseph, "a wonderful, providential escape." A British captain by the name of Foster was shot in the thigh. It was now nearly sunset, when General Arnold ordered a retreat. The night was spent in making preparations for the morrow. It was near morning when Captain Foster came over to General Arnold and agreed with him to a cartel by which certain prisoners were exchanged. The American prisoners were returned in a destitute and forlorn condition. The pitiful sight deeply excited the generous sympathies of the kind-hearted Joseph, who did what he could to comfort them by dividing his own supplies with them.
General Arnold now returned with his troops to Montreal, exercising great vigilance to avoid further surprise. He then crossed the St. Lawrence and encamped at St. Johns. Here the small-pox appeared in camp. In order to avoid the severity of the disease, Joseph procured the necessary virus and inoculated himself with the point of a needle, which produced the desired effect. Two days after the disease had appeared in camp, the troops were ordered to Chambly. The British hove in sight and began to land on the opposite side of the bay. The invalids were numerous and continued to increase. They were directed to march back to St. Johns,—a distance of twelve miles. Most of them could hardly carry gun, cartridge-box, and blanket, and were often obliged to sit down and rest by the wayside, Joseph among the rest. In the course of a few days the sick were transported to Isle aux Noix, at which place all the shattered army were collected under command of General Heath. From this place the troops, including the sick, proceeded amid sundry embarrassments to Crown Point, where they encamped. Here the small-pox spread among the men, and in its most aggravated form, with fearful rapidity. The scene in camp soon became appalling. The groans and cries of the sick and dying were heard night and day without cessation. As it happened, the surgeons, for want of medicines and hospital stores, could render but little aid. In some instances as many as thirty patients died in a day, and were buried in a single vault or pit, for the reason that there were not well men enough to bury them in separate graves.
The humane and philanthropic Joseph, who had previously inoculated himself with success, and thus avoided further danger from the contagion, now devoted himself to nursing and caring for his sick companions-in-arms with unwearied assiduity. As soon as the contagion began to abate, the sick were transferred in boats to Fort George, while the men fit for service were ordered to Mount Independence, opposite Ticonderoga, to erect works of defence. The mount was covered with forest trees, loose rocks, and dens infested with rattlesnakes, which often crept into camp and were killed.
At this time Joseph suffered for want of the clothes he had lost in the retreat from Canada, and had, in fact, worn the only shirt he had for six weeks, and was so incommoded with vermin that he was compelled to take off his shirt, wash it without soap, wring it out, and put it on wet. He was also scourged with an irritating cutaneous disease, which induced him to retire some distance from camp, fire a log-heap, and roast himself, after anointing with a mixture of grease and brimstone. The camp was destitute of indispensable conveniences, and the hospital in which lay the sick had not a dish of any kind in which could be administered a sup of gruel, broth, or a drink of water. Resort was had to wooden troughs, or dishes, cut out with a hatchet or penknife. The colonel, in passing through the hospital, said, "I wish there was a man to be found here who can turn wooden dishes." Joseph, who understood the art, replied, "Furnish me the tools and I will do it." The tools were furnished, and Joseph soon turned from the aspen poplar an ample supply of wooden cups and trenchers. He was also often employed in making bread, and in fact was a sort of universal genius and could do almost anything. At the instance of General Washington he was also employed at times to aid in negotiating treaties of friendship with the Indians. But after being transferred several times from one military point to another, and suffering more or less from hardships, his health became so impaired that the principal surgeon gave him a discharge, and he returned to his home in Massachusetts. He soon afterward so far recovered that he re-enlisted and served as an orderly sergeant in defence of the seaport towns till the 1st of January, 1778, when his time expired, and he returned to his father's house once more, having been in the service a little more than three years. He received, on retiring from the army, about two hundred dollars in paper currency, which was so depreciated that he could not purchase with the whole of it a decent coat. He then (for the next six months) engaged in the business of weaving on shares, and during that time wove sixteen hundred yards of plain cloth. This enabled him to clothe himself decently, and to spend the ensuing winter in improving his education. At this time, as he said, he "had no Christian hope," but continued to labor and study during the year 1779, when a religious revival occurred, and he acquired a Christian hope, with a determination to fit himself for the ministry. Encouraged by his friend, Rev. Mr. Day, he prosecuted the requisite preliminary studies, and at the same time taught a family school in order to meet his expenses. He entered college in 1781, and graduated in 1785. He then studied theology, and was licensed to preach in 1786. He soon received a call and was ordained as pastor of the church at Blandford, Mass. He had previously married Miss Lois Noble, who was a young lady of refinement and exemplary piety. In October, 1800, he resigned his pastorship at Blandford and received a regular dismissal.
The Connecticut Missionary Society, whose central office was at Hartford, had formed a high estimate of the character and piety of Rev. Joseph Badger, and at once tendered him the appointment to go, under the auspices of the society, as a missionary to the Western Reserve. This was the kind of Christian labor in which he preferred to engage. He therefore accepted the appointment; and leaving his family at home until he could explore somewhat his new field of service, he took his departure on horseback, Nov. 15, 1800, bound for the Western Reserve. He took what was then called the southern route, crossed the Alleghany mountains in the midst of a snow-storm, and after a weary journey, arrived at Pittsburgh on the 14th of December. Here he rested for a day or two, and then resumed his "journey through the wilderness," and after a weary ride of nearly a hundred miles, reached Youngstown, one of the earliest settlements in the Reserve, on Saturday night at a late hour, and was kindly received. The next day he preached at Youngstown his first sermon in the Reserve. The town at that time consisted of some half-dozen log cabins. His audience included nearly every soul in town, though but a handful, who had assembled in one of the larger cabins, and who seemed pleased to receive from his lips "the good tidings of great joy." Gratified with his reception at Youngstown, and resolving to lose no time in expediting his missionary labors, he rode the next day to Vienna, where but one family had settled; thence to Hartford, where but three families had settled, and thence to Vernon, where he found but five families. In making these successive visits he did good work. While at Vernon he was informed that Mr. Palmer, the head of the family settled at Vienna, had been taken suddenly sick and was not expected to live. There was no doctor residing in all that region of country. Rev. Mr. Badger hastened at once to the relief of the sick man, and nursed him for eight days, when he so far recovered that his providential nurse could safely leave him. In this way Rev. Mr. Badger visited, in the course of the year 1801, every settlement and nearly every family throughout the Western Reserve. In doing this he often rode from five to twenty-five or thirty miles a day, carrying with him in saddlebags a scanty supply of clothing and eatables, and often traversing pathless woodlands amid storms and tempests, swimming unbridged rivers, and suffering from cold and hunger, and at the same time here and there visiting lone families, giving them and their children religious instruction and wholesome advice, and preaching at points wherever a few could be gathered together, sometimes in a log cabin or in a barn, and sometimes in the open field or in a woodland, beneath the shadows of the trees. At about this time he preached the first sermon ever heard in Cleveland. In response to all this benevolent work he had the satisfaction of knowing that he was almost universally received with a heartfelt appreciation of his services, and with a liberal hospitality. Though most of the early settlers were poor, they cheerfully "broke bread with him," and gave him the larger share of such luxuries as they happened to have at command. Even the Indians, who were quite numerous, treated him kindly and with respect. He took especial pains to enlighten and instruct them, and soon acquired such a knowledge of their language as enabled him to communicate readily with them.
In September of 1801, he journeyed on horseback to Detroit, with a view to extend the field of his missionary labors. On reaching the banks of the Huron River, late in the evening, he stopped at an Indian hut, desiring to remain for the night. He was kindly received by the inmates,—an aged Indian chief and his squaw. The squaw cut fodder from the cornfield and fed his horse, and soon presented him with a supper of boiled string-beans, buttered with bear's oil, in a wooden bowl that was cut and carved out from the knot of a tree with a hatchet and knife. Hungry as he really was, he relished the feast. She then spread for him on the floor a bed of bearskins and clean blankets, on which he enjoyed a refreshing night's sleep. In the morning she gave him for breakfast a corn-bread cake, baked in the embers. It contained inside a sprinkling of black beans, and resembled plum-cake. While he was eating, he expressed his admiration of the bread. The squaw replied, "Eat; it is good. It is such bread as God gives the Indians." He then resumed his journey to Detroit, where he remained a few days. While there, and while on his way to and from there, he held religious interviews with all he met who were willing to converse in relation to their spiritual welfare, whether white men or Indians, but found no one, as he said, in all that region, whom he could regard as a Christian, "except a black man, who appeared pious." On his return he visited Hudson, where he found a few professors of religion. Here he organized a church, consisting of ten males and six females. This was the first church organized in the Western Reserve. The next morning, October 25, he took his departure from the Reserve, and returned by way of Buffalo to his family in New England, preaching, as he went, at such settlements as offered a favorable opportunity. He arrived at home Jan. 1, 1802, after an absence of thirteen months and fifteen days. He found his dear family all well, and like David of old, blessed the Lord, who had "redeemed his life from destruction and crowned him with loving-kindness and tender mercies."