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.
"And thus he passed, as it were, almost imperceptibly away,
while his ever-penetrating eyes sparkled with the utmost
brilliancy till they were closed in death, which painful
task fell on my brother, as he was the only one I had time
to call in, after I was sensible that he was departing. Our
minister, Mr. Eli Fay, came in soon after, and our house
was filled with sorrowing friends and neighbors."
Here are the simple facts. They confirm the view that there was a clear,
inner light of the intellect, which shone to the last, and which we
believe was but transiently eclipsed in death. Thus died a great and a
good man. At his dwelling, May 14th, 1852, Mr. Chapin read the
Scriptures, offered prayer, and made appropriate remarks. At the church,
Rev. Eli Fay, the Christian minister of the place, delivered an
appropriate discourse from 2 Sam. 1: 19: "How are the mighty fallen!" in
which he discussed the elements, uses and end of human greatness. In the
solemn procession that followed to its resting-place the mortal form,
were those who had come from some distance around, to shed the
reverential tear over the grave of one whose voice had been to them a
heavenly eloquence a third of a century ago. When the country was a
wilderness, his words had swayed them as trees are moved by the winds.
They come, the hoary-headed band, to take a last view of his spirit's
fallen temple. By the side of former friends they bury him, and over his
sacred ashes rises a monument with this inscription:
"JOSEPH BADGER,
A MINISTER IN THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH.
DIED MAY 12, 1852.
AGED 59 YEARS.
"Here rests his mortal part. His spirit lives,
And guides us still in virtue's path.
HIS CHILDREN."
His life strikes us as a synonyme of energy, of accomplishing force. His
words have penetrated myriads of hearts. He had travelled many thousands
of miles; had led to the mercy-seat hosts of penitents; to the baptismal
waters upwards of two thousand persons, over forty of whom became
ministers of salvation; had attended upwards of seven hundred funerals;
and, though merit is not always to be measured by outward effects, it is
impossible to impartially review his life as a whole, without finding in
it a steady devotion to principles, a trusting reliance on God amid the
changes of men and the fluctuation of time, which, as we contemplate,
grow into the sublimity of faith. He was a hero of faith, and strongly
impressed himself upon his time.