{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_11253/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_11253","id":"gutenberg_11253","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11253","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Biographies","Category: History - British","Category: History - Modern (1750+)","Category: History - Warfare","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Converts","Gardiner, James, 1688-1745","Jacobite Rebellion, 1745-1746","Prestonpans, Battle of, Prestonpans, Scotland, 1745","Soldiers -- Religious life"],"text":"THE LIFE OF COL. JAMES GARDINER,\n\n\nWHO WAS SLAIN AT THE BATTLE OF PRESTONPANS,\n\n\nSEPTEMBER 21, 1745.\n\n\n\nBY P. DODDRIDGE, D.D.\n\n\n\n'Justior alter Nec pietate fuit, nec bello major et armis.'--VIRGIL\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER\n\n   I     PARENTAGE AND EARLY DAYS.\n\n  II     BATTLE OF RAMILLIES.\n\n III     MILITARY PREFERMENTS.\n\n  IV     CHECKS OF CONSCIENCE.\n\n   V     HIS CONVERSION.\n\n  VI     LETTERS.\n\n VII     DOMESTIC RELATIONS.\n\nVIII     CONDUCT AS AN OFFICER.\n\n  IX     INTIMACY WITH THE AUTHOR.\n\n   X     DEVOTION AND CHARITY.\n\n  XI     EMBARKS FOR FLANDERS.\n\n XII     RETURN TO ENGLAND.\n\nXIII     REVIVAL OF RELIGION.\n\n XIV     APPREHENSIONS OF DEATH.\n\n  XV     BATTLE OF PRESTONPANS.\n\n         THE COLONEL'S PERSONAL APPEARANCE.\n\n         APPENDIX I\n\n         APPENDIX II\n\n\n\n\n[*Transcriber's Note: At the time of this book, England still followed\nthe Julian calendar (after Julius Caesar, 44 B.C.), and celebrated New\nYear's Day on March 25th (Annunciation Day). Most Catholic countries\naccepted the Gregorian calendar (after Pope Gregory XIII) from some time\nafter 1582 (the Catholic countries of France, Spain, Portugal, and Italy\nin 1582, Belgium, the Netherlands, and Switzerland within a year or two,\nHungary in 1587, and Scotland in 1600), and celebrated New Year's Day on\nJanuary 1st. England finally changed to the Gregorian calendar in 1752.\nThis is the reason for the double dates in the early months of the years\nin this narrative. January 1687 in England would have been January 1688\nin Scotland. Only after March 25th was the year the same in the two\ncountries. The Julian calendar was known as 'Old Style', and the\nGregorian calendar as 'New Style' (N.S.).\n\n(Thus a letter written from France on e.g. August 4th, 1719 would be\ndated August 4, N.S.)]\n\n\n\n\nLIFE OF COL. JAMES GARDINER.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nPARENTAGE AND EARLY DAYS.\n\n\nWhen I promised the public some larger account of the life and character\nof this illustrious person, than I could conveniently insert in my sermon\non the sad occasion of his death, I was secure, that if Providence\ncontinued my capacity of writing, I should not wholly disappoint the\nexpectation; for I was furnished with a variety of particulars which\nappeared to me worthy of general notice, in consequence of that intimate\nfriendship with which he had honoured me during the last six years of his\nlife--a friendship which led him to open his heart to me, in repeated\nconversations, with an unbounded confidence, (as he then assured me,\nbeyond what he had used with any other man living,) so far as religious\nexperiences were concerned; and I had also received several very valuable\nletters from him during the time of our absence from each other, which\ncontained most genuine and edifying traces of his Christian character.\nBut I hoped further to learn many valuable particulars from the papers of\nhis own closet, and from his letters to other friends, as well as\nfrom what they more circumstantially knew concerning him. I therefore\ndetermined to delay the execution of my promise till I could enjoy these\nadvantages for performing it in the most satisfactory manner; nor have I,\non the whole, reason to regret that determination.\n\nI shall not trouble the reader with all the causes which concurred to\nretard these expected assistances for almost a whole year. The chief of\nthem was the tedious languishing illness of his afflicted lady, through\nwhose hands it was proper the papers should pass; together with the\nconfusion into which the rebels had thrown them when they ransacked\nhis seat at Bankton, where most of them were deposited. But having now\nreceived such of them as have escaped their rapacious hands, and could\nconveniently be collected and transmitted, I set myself with the greatest\npleasure to perform what I esteem not merely a tribute of gratitude to\nthe memory of my invaluable friend, (though never was the memory of any\nmortal man more precious and sacred to me,) but of duty to God, and to my\nfellow-creatures; for I have a most cheerful hope that the narrative I am\nnow to write will, under the divine blessing, be a means of spreading,\nwhat of all things in the world, every benevolent heart will most desire\nto spread, a warm and lively sense of religion.\n\nMy own heart has been so much edified and animated by what I have read in\nthe memoirs of persons who have been eminent for wisdom and piety, that I\ncannot but wish the treasure may be more and more increased; and I would\nhope the world may gather the like valuable fruits from the life I am\nnow attempting, not only as it will contain very singular circumstances,\nwhich may excite general curiosity, but as it comes attended with some\nother particular advantages.\n\nThe reader is here to survey a character of such eminent and various\ngoodness as might demand veneration, and inspire him with a desire of\nimitating it too, had it appeared in the obscurest rank; but it will\nsurely command some peculiar regard, when viewed in so elevated and\nimportant a station, especially as it shone, not in ecclesiastical, but\n_military_ life, where the temptations are so many, and the prevalence\nof the contrary character so great, that it may seem no inconsiderable\npraise and felicity to be free from dissolute vice, and to retain what in\nmost other professions might be esteemed only _a mediocrity of virtue_.\nIt may surely, with the highest justice, be expected that the title\nand bravery of Colonel Gardiner will invite many of our officers and\nsoldiers, to whom his name has been long honourable and dear, to peruse\nthis account of him with some peculiar attention; in consequence of which\nit may be a means of increasing the number, and brightening the character\nof those who are already adorning their office, their country, and their\nreligion; and of reclaiming those who will see what they ought to be,\nrather than what they are. On the whole, to the gentlemen of the sword I\nwould particularly offer these memoirs, as theirs by so distinguished\na title; yet I am firmly persuaded there are _none_ whose office is so\nsacred, or whose proficiency in the religious life is so advanced, but\nthey may find something to demand their thankfulness, and to awaken their\nemulation.\n\n\n\nCOLONEL JAMES GARDINER was the son of Capt. Patrick Gardiner of the\nfamily of Torwoodhead, by Mrs.[*] Mary Hodge of the family of Gladsmuir.\nThe captain, who was master of a handsome estate, served many years in\nthe army of king William and queen Anne, and died abroad with the British\nforces in Germany, soon after the battle of Hochstett, through the\nfatigues he underwent in the duties of that celebrated campaign. He had\na company in the regiment of foot once commanded by Colonel Hodge, his\nvaliant brother-in-law, who was slain at the head of that regiment (my\nmemorial from Scotland says) at the battle of Steenkirk, which was fought\nin the year 1692.\n\n[*Transcriber's Note: Mrs. (Mistress), in that age, was the normal style\nof address for an unmarried daughter from a prominent family, as well as\nfor a married lady.]\n\nMrs. Gardiner, our colonel's mother, was a lady of very respectable\ncharacter; but it pleased God to exercise her with very uncommon trials;\nfor she not only lost her husband and her brother in the service of their\ncountry, as before related, but also her eldest son, Mr. Robert Gardiner,\non the day which completed the 16th year of his age, at the siege of\nNamur, in 1695. But there is great reason to believe that God blessed\nthese various and heavy afflictions, as the means of forming her to that\neminent degree of piety which will render her memory honourable as long\nas it continues.\n\nHer second son, the worthy person of whom I am now to give a more\nparticular account, was born at Carriden, in Linlithgowshire, on the 10th\nof January, A.D. 1687-8,--the memorable year of that glorious revolution\nwhich he justly esteemed among the happiest of all events; so that when\nhe was slain in defence of those liberties which God then, by so gracious\na providence, rescued from utter destruction, i.e. on the 21st of\nSeptember 1745, he was aged 57 years, 8 months, and 11 days.\n\nThe annual return of his birth-day was observed by him in the latter\nand better years of his life, in a manner very different from what is\ncommonly practised; for, instead of making it a day of festivity, I\nam told he rather distinguished it as a season of more than ordinary\nhumiliation before God--both in commemoration of those mercies which he\nreceived in the first opening of life, and under an affectionate sense,\nas well of his long alienation from the great Author and support of his\nbeing, as of the many imperfections which he lamented in the best of his\ndays and services.\n\nI have not met with many things remarkable concerning the early days of\nhis life, only that his mother took care to instruct him, with great\ntenderness and affection, in the principles of true Christianity. He was\nalso trained up in humane literature, at the school at Linlithgow, where\nhe made a very considerable progress in the languages. I remember to have\nheard him quote some passages of the Latin classics very pertinently;\nthough his employment in life, and the various turns which his mind\ntook under different impulses in succeeding years, prevented him from\ncultivating such studies.\n\nThe good effects of his mother's prudent and exemplary care were not so\nconspicuous as she wished and hoped, in the earlier part of her son's\nlife; yet there is great reason to believe they were not entirely lost.\nAs they were probably the occasion of many convictions which in his\nyounger years were overborne, so I doubt not, that when religious\nimpressions took that strong hold of his heart which they afterwards did,\nthat stock of knowledge which had been so early laid up in his mind,\nwas found of considerable service. And I have heard them make the\nobservation, as an encouragement to parents, and other pious friends, to\ndo their duty, and to hope for those good consequences of it which may\nnot immediately appear.\n\nCould his mother, or a very religious aunt, (of whose good instructions\nand exhortations I have often heard him speak with pleasure,) have\nprevailed, he would not have thought of a military life, from which it\nis no wonder these ladies endeavoured to dissuade him, considering the\nmournful experience they had of the dangers attending it, and the dear\nrelatives they had lost already by it. But it suited his taste; and the\nardour of his spirit, animated by the persuasions of a friend who greatly\nurged it,[*] was not to be restrained. Nor will the reader wonder\nthat, thus excited and supported, it easily overbore their tender\nremonstrances, when he knows that this lively youth fought three duels\nbefore he attained to the stature of a man; in one of which, when he was\nbut eight years old, he received from a boy much older than himself, a\nwound in his right cheek, the scar of which was always very apparent.\nThe false sense of honour which instigated him to it, might seem indeed\nsomething excusable in those unripened years, and considering the\nprofession of his father, brother, and uncle; but I have often heard\nhim mention this rashness with that regret which the reflection would\nnaturally give to so wise and good a man in the maturity of life. And I\nhave been informed that, after his remarkable conversion, he declined\naccepting a challenge, with this calm and truly great reply, which, in\na man of his experienced bravery, was exceedingly graceful: \"I fear\nsinning, though you know I do not fear fighting.\"\n\n[*Note: I suppose this to have been Brigadier-General Rue, who had from\nhis childhood a peculiar affection for him.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nBATTLE OF RAMILLIES.\n\n\nHe served first as a cadet, which must have been very early; and then, at\nfourteen years old, he bore an ensign's commission in a Scotch regiment\nin the Dutch service, in which he continued till the year 1702, when (if\nmy information be right) he received an ensign's commission from queen\nAnne, which he bore in the battle of Ramillies, being then in the\nnineteenth year of his age. In this ever-memorable action he received a\nwound in his mouth by a musket-ball, which has often been reported to be\nthe occasion of his conversion. That report was a mistaken one; but as\nsome very remarkable circumstances attended this affair, which I have\nhad the pleasure of hearing more than once from his own mouth, I hope my\nreaders will excuse me, if I give him so uncommon a story at large.\n\nOur young officer was of a party in the forlorn hope, and was commanded\non what seemed almost a desperate service, to dispossess the French of\nthe church-yard at Ramillies, where a considerable number of them were\nposted to remarkable advantage. They succeeded much better than was\nexpected; and it may well be supposed that Mr. Gardiner, who had before\nbeen in several encounters, and had the view of making his fortune to\nanimate the natural intrepidity of his spirit, was glad of such an\nopportunity of signalizing himself. Accordingly he had planted his\ncolours on an advanced ground; and while he was calling to his men,\n(probably in that horrid language which is so peculiar a disgrace to our\nsoldiery, and so absurdly common on such occasions of extreme danger,) he\nreceived into his mouth a shot, which, without beating out of any of his\nteeth, or touching the fore part of his tongue, went through his neck,\nand came out about an inch and a half on the left side of the _vertebr\u221a\u00b6_.\nNot feeling at first the pain of the stroke, he wondered what was become\nof the ball, and in the wildness of his surprise began to suspect he had\nswallowed it; but falling soon after, he traced the passage of it by his\nfinger, when he could discover it in no other way; which I mention as\none circumstance, among many which occur, to make it probable that the\ngreater part of those who fall in battle by these instruments of death,\nfeel very little anguish from the most mortal wounds.\n\nThis accident happened about five or six in the evening, on the 23d of\nMay, 1706; and the army, pursuing its advantages against the French,\nwithout ever regarding the wounded, (which was, it seems, the Duke of\nMarlborough's constant method,) our young officer lay all night on\nthe field, agitated, as may well be supposed, with a great variety of\nthoughts. He assured me, that when he reflected upon the circumstance of\nhis wound, that a ball should, as he then conceived it, go through his\nhead without killing him, he thought God had preserved him by a miracle;\nand therefore assuredly concluded that he should live, abandoned and\ndesperate as his state seemed to be. Yet (which to me appeared very\nastonishing) he had little thoughts of humbling himself before God, and\nreturning to him after the wanderings of a life so licentiously begun.\nBut, expecting to recover, his mind was taken up with contrivances to\nsecure his gold, of which he had a good deal about him; and he had\nrecourse to a very odd expedient, which proved successful. Expecting to\nbe stripped, he first took out a handful of that clotted gore of which he\nwas frequently obliged to clear his mouth, or he would have been choked;\nand putting it into his left hand, he took out his money, which I think\nwas about 19 pistoles, and shutting his hand, and besmearing the back\npart of it with blood, he kept in this position till the blood dried in\nsuch a manner that his hand could not easily fall open, though any sudden\nsurprise should happen, in which he might lose the presence of mind which\nthat concealment otherwise would have required.\n\nIn the morning the French, who were masters of that spot, though their\nforces were defeated at some distance, came to plunder the slain; and\nseeing him to appearance almost expiring, one of them was just applying\na sword to his breast, to destroy the little remainder of life, when, in\nthe critical moment, upon which all the extraordinary events of such a\nlife as his afterwards proved, were suspended, a Cordelier who attended\nthe plunderers interposed, (taking him by his dress for a Frenchman) and\nsaid, \"Do not kill that poor child.\" Our young soldier heard all that\npassed, though he was not able to speak one word; and, opening his\neyes, made a sign for something to drink. They gave him a sup of some\nspirituous liquor which happened to be at hand, by which he said he found\na more sensible refreshment than he could remember from anything he had\ntasted either before or since. Then signifying to the friar to lean down\nhis ear to his mouth, he employed the first efforts of his feeble breath\nin telling him (what, alas! was a contrived falsehood) that he was a\nnephew to the governor of Huy, a neutral town in the neighbourhood; and\nthat if he could take any method of conveying him thither, he did not\ndoubt but his uncle would liberally reward him. He had indeed a friend at\nHuy, who I think was governor, and, if I mistake not, had been acquainted\nwith the captain, his father, from whom he expected a kind reception; but\nthe relation was only pretended. On hearing this, they laid him on a sort\nof hand-barrow, and sent him by a file of musqueteers towards the place;\nbut the men lost their way, and, towards the evening, got into a wood in\nwhich they were obliged to continue all night. The poor patient's wound\nbeing still undressed, it is not to be wondered at that by this time it\nraged violently. The anguish of it engaged him earnestly to beg that they\nwould either kill him outright, or leave him there to die without the\ntorture of any further motion; and indeed they were obliged to rest for a\nconsiderable time, on account of their own weariness. Thus he spent\nthe second night in the open air, without any thing more than a common\nbandage to staunch the blood. He has often mentioned it as a most\nastonishing providence that he did not bleed to death, which, under God,\nhe ascribed to the remarkable coldness of these two nights.\n\nJudging it quite unsafe to attempt carrying him to Huy, from whence they\nwere now several miles distant, his convoy took him early in the morning\nto a convent in the neighbourhood, where he was hospitably received, and\ntreated with great kindness and tenderness. But the cure of his wound was\ncommitted to an ignorant barber-surgeon who lived near the house, the\nbest shift that could then be made, at a time when it may easily be\nsupposed persons of ability in their profession had their hands full of\nemployment. The tent which this artist applied, was almost like a peg\ndriven into the wound; and gentlemen of skill and experience, when they\ncame to hear of the manner in which he was treated, wondered how he could\npossibly survive such management. But by the blessing of God on these\napplications, rough as they were, he recovered in a few months. The Lady\nAbbess, who called him her son, treated him with the affection and care\nof a mother; and he always declared that every thing which he saw within\nthese walls, was conducted with the strictest decency and decorum. He\nreceived a great many devout admonitions from the ladies there, and\nthey would fain have persuaded him to acknowledge what they thought so\nmiraculous a deliverance, by embracing the _Catholic faith_, as they were\npleased to call it. But they could not succeed; for though no religion\nlay near his heart, yet he had too much of the spirit of a gentleman\nlightly to change that form of religion which he wore, as it were loose\nabout him; as well as too much good sense to swallow those monstrous\nabsurdities of Popery which immediately presented themselves to him,\nunacquainted as he was with the niceties of the controversy.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nMILITARY PREFERMENTS.\n\n\nWhen his liberty was regained by an exchange of prisoners, and his health\nthoroughly established, he was far from rendering unto the Lord according\nto that wonderful display of divine mercy which he had experienced.\nI know very little of the particulars of those wild, thoughtless and\nwretched years which lay between the 19th and 30th of his life; except\nthat he frequently experienced the divine goodness in renewed instances,\nparticularly in preserving him in several hot military actions, in all\nwhich he never received so much as a wound after this, forward as he was\nin tempting danger; and yet that all these years were spent in an entire\nalienation from God, and in an eager pursuit of animal pleasure as his\nsupreme good. The series of criminal amours in which he was almost\nincessantly engaged during this time, must probably have afforded some\nremarkable adventures and occurrences; but the memory of them has\nperished. Nor do I think it unworthy of notice here, that amidst all the\nintimacy of our friendship, and the many hours of cheerful as well as\nserious converse which we spent together, I never remember to have heard\nhim speak of any of these intrigues, otherwise than in the general with\ndeep and solemn abhorrence. This I the rather mention, as it seemed a\nmost genuine proof of his unfeigned repentance, which I think there is\ngreat reason to suspect, when people seem to take a pleasure in relating\nand describing scenes of vicious indulgence, which they yet profess to\nhave disapproved and forsaken.\n\nAmidst all these pernicious wanderings from the paths of religion,\nvirtue, and happiness, he approved himself so well in his military\ncharacter, that he was made a lieutenant in that year, viz. 1706; and I\nam told he was very quickly after promoted to a cornet's commission in\nLord Stair's regiment of the Scots Greys, and, on the 31st of January,\n1714-15, was made captain-lieutenant in Colonel Ker's regiment of\ndragoons. He had the honour of being known to the Earl of Stair some time\nbefore, and was made his aid-de-camp; and when, upon his Lordship's being\nappointed ambassador from his late Majesty to the court of France, he\nmade so splendid an entrance into Paris, Captain Gardiner was his master\nof the horse; and I have been told that a great deal of the care of that\nadmirably well-adjusted ceremony fell upon him; so that he gained great\ncredit by the manner in which he conducted it. Under the benign influence\nof his Lordship's favour, which to the last day of his life he retained,\na captain's commission was procured for him, dated July 22, 1715, in\nthe regiment of dragoons commanded by Colonel Stanhope, now Earl of\nHarrington; and in 1717 he was advanced to the majority of that regiment,\nin which office he continued till it was reduced on November 10, 1718,\nwhen he was put out of commission. But when his Majesty, king George I.,\nwas thoroughly apprised of his faithful and important services, he gave\nhim his sign-manual, entitling him to the first majority that should\nbecome vacant in any regiment of horse or dragoons, which happened, about\nfive years after, to be in Croft's regiment of dragoons, in which he\nreceived a commission, dated 1st June, 1724; and on the 20th of July the\nsame year, he was made major of an older regiment, commanded by the Earl\nof Stair.\n\nAs I am now speaking of so many of his military preferments, I will\ndispatch the account of them by observing, that, on the 24th January\n1729-30, he was advanced to the rank of lieutenant-colonel in the same\nregiment, long under the command of Lord Cadogan, with whose friendship\nthis brave and vigilant officer was also honoured for many years. And he\ncontinued in this rank and regiment till the 19th of April, 1743, when\nhe received a colonel's commission over a regiment of dragoons lately\ncommanded by Brigadier Bland, at the head of which he valiantly fell, in\nthe defence of his sovereign and his country, about two years and a half\nafter he received it.\n\nWe will now return to that period of his life which was passed at Paris,\nthe scene of such remarkable and important events. He continued (if I\nremember right) several years under the roof of the brave and generous\nEarl of Stair, to whom he endeavoured to approve himself by every\ninstance of diligent and faithful service. And his Lordship gave no\ninconsiderable proof of the dependence which he had upon him, when, in\nthe beginning of 1715, he entrusted him with the important dispatches\nrelating to a discovery which, by a series of admirable policy, he had\nmade of a design which the French king was then forming for invading\nGreat Britain in favour of the Pretender; in which the French apprehended\nthey were so sure of success, that it seemed a point of friendship in one\nof the chief counsellors of that court to dissuade a dependent of his\nfrom accepting some employment under his Britannic majesty, when proposed\nby his envoy there, because it was said that in less than six weeks there\nwould be a revolution in favour of what they called the family of the\nStuarts. The captain dispatched his journey with the utmost speed; a\nvariety of circumstances happily concurred to accelerate it; and they\nwho remember how soon the regiments which that emergency required, were\nraised and armed, will, I doubt not, esteem it a memorable instance, both\nof the most cordial zeal in the friends of the government, and of the\ngracious care of Divine Providence over the house of Hanover and the\nBritish liberties, so inseparably connected with its interest.\n\nWhile Captain Gardiner was at London, in one of the journeys he made upon\nthis occasion, he, with that frankness which was natural to him, and\nwhich in those days was not always under the most prudent restraint,\nventured to predict, from what he knew of the bad state of the French\nking's health, that he would not live six weeks. This was made known by\nsome spies who were at St. James's, and came to be reported at the court\nof Versailles; for he received letters from some friends at Paris,\nadvising him not to return thither, unless he could reconcile himself to\na lodging in the Bastile. But he was soon free from that apprehension;\nfor, if I mistake not, before half that time was accomplished, Louis XIV.\ndied, (Sept. 1, 1715,) and it is generally thought his death was hastened\nby a very accidental circumstance, which had some reference to the\ncaptain's prophecy; for the last time he ever dined in public, which\nwas a very little while after the report of it had been made there,\nhe happened to discover our British envoy among the spectators. The\npenetration of this illustrious person was too great, and his attachment\nto the interest of his royal master too well known, not to render him\nvery disagreeable to that crafty and tyrannical prince, whom God had so\nlong suffered to be the disgrace of monarchy, and the scourge of Europe.\nHe at first appeared very languid, as indeed he was; but on casting his\neye upon the Earl of Stair, he affected to appear before him in a much\nbetter state of health than he really was; and therefore, as if he had\nbeen awakened on a sudden from some deep reverie, he immediately put\nhimself into an erect posture, called up a laboured vivacity into his\ncountenance, and ate much more heartily than was by any means advisable,\nrepeating two or three times to a nobleman, (I think the Duke of Bourbon)\nthen in waiting, \"_Il me semble que je ne mange pas mal pour un homme qui\ndevoit mourir si tot._\" \"Methinks I eat very well for a man who is to die\nso soon.\" But this inroad upon that regularity of living which he had for\nsome time observed, agreed so ill with him that he never recovered this\nmeal, but died in less than a fortnight. This gave occasion for some\nhumorous people to say, that old Louis, after all, was killed by a\nBriton. But if this story be true, (which I think there can be no room to\ndoubt, as the colonel, from whom I have often heard it, though absent,\ncould scarce be misinformed,) it might more properly be said that he fell\nby his own vanity; in which view I thought it so remarkable, as not to be\nunworthy of a place in these memoirs.\n\nThe captain quickly returned, and continued, with small interruptions, at\nParis, at least till 1720, and how much longer I do not certainly know.\nThe Earl's favour and generosity made him easy in his affairs, though he\nwas, (as has been observed before,) part of the time, out of commission,\nby breaking the regiment to which he belonged, of which before he was\nmajor. This was in all probability the gayest part of his life, and the\nmost criminal. Whatever wise and good examples he might find in the\nfamily where he had the honour to reside, it is certain that the French\ncourt, during the regency of the Duke of Orleans, was one of the most\ndissolute under heaven. What, by a wretched abuse of language, have been\ncalled intrigues of love and gallantry, were so entirely to the major's\nthen degenerate taste, that if not the whole business, at least the whole\nhappiness of his life, consisted in them; and he had now too much leisure\nfor one who was so prone to abuse it. His fine constitution, than which\nperhaps there was hardly ever a better, gave him great opportunities of\nindulging himself in these excesses; and his good spirits enabled him to\npursue his pleasures of every kind in so alert and sprightly a manner,\nthat multitudes envied him, and called him, by a dreadful kind of\ncompliment, \"the happy rake.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nCHECKS OF CONSCIENCE.\n\n\nYet still the checks of conscience, and some remaining principles of so\ngood an education, would break in upon his most licentious hours; and\nI particularly remember he told me, that when some of his dissolute\ncompanions were once congratulating him on his distinguished felicity, a\ndog happening at that time to come into the room, he could not forbear\ngroaning inwardly, and saying to himself, 'Oh that I were that dog!' Such\nthen was his happiness; and such perhaps is that of hundreds more who\nbear themselves highest in the contempt of religion, and glory in\nthat infamous servitude which they affect to call liberty. But these\nremonstrances of reason and conscience were in vain; and, in short, he\ncarried things so far in this wretched part of his life, that I am well\nassured some sober English gentlemen, who made no great pretences to\nreligion, how agreeable soever he might have been to them on other\naccounts, rather declined than sought his company, as fearing they might\nhave been ensnared and corrupted by it.\n\nYet I cannot find that in these most abandoned days he was fond of\ndrinking. Indeed, he never had any natural relish for that kind of\nintemperance, from which he used to think a manly pride might be\nsufficient to preserve persons of sense and spirit; as by it they give up\nevery thing that distinguishes them from the meanest of their species, or\nindeed from animals the most below it. So that if ever he fell into any\nexcesses of this kind, it was merely out of complaisance to his company,\nand that he might not appear stiff and singular. His frank, obliging, and\ngenerous temper procured him many friends; and these principles, which\nrendered him amiable to others, not being under the direction of true\nwisdom and piety, sometimes made him, in the ways of living he pursued,\nmore uneasy to himself than he might, perhaps, have been, if he could\nhave entirely overcome them; especially as he never was a sceptic in his\nprinciples, but still retained a secret apprehension that natural and\nrevealed religion, though he did not much care to think of either, were\nfounded in truth. And, with this conviction, his notorious violations of\nthe most essential precepts of both could not but occasion some secret\nmisgivings of heart. His continual neglect of the great Author of his\nbeing, of whose perfections he could not doubt, and to whom he knew\nhimself to be under daily and perpetual obligations, gave him, in some\nmoments of involuntary reflection, inexpressible remorse; and this at\ntimes wrought upon him to such a degree, that he resolved he would\nattempt to pay him some acknowledgments. Accordingly, for a few mornings\nhe did it, repeating in retirement some passages out of the Psalms, and\nperhaps other scriptures which he still retained in his memory; and\nowning, in a few strong words, the many mercies and deliverances he had\nreceived, and the ill returns he had made for them.\n\nI find, among the other papers transmitted to me, the following verses,\nwhich I have heard him repeat, as what had impressed him a good deal\nin his unconverted state; and as I suppose they did something towards\nsetting him on this effort towards devotion, and might probably furnish\na part of these orisons, I hope I need make no apology to my reader for\ninserting them, especially as I do not recollect that I have seen them\nany where else.\n\n  Attend, my soul! the early birds inspire\n  My grovelling thoughts with pure celestial fire;\n  They from their temperate sleep awake, and pay\n  Their thankful anthems for the new-born day.\n  See how the tuneful lark is mounted high,\n  And, poet-like, salutes the eastern sky!\n  He warbles through the fragrant air his lays,\n  And seems the beauties of the morn to praise.\n  But man, more void of gratitude awakes,\n  And gives no thanks for the sweet rest he takes;\n  Looks on the glorious sun's new kindled flame,\n  Without one thought of Him from whom it came.\n  The wretch unhallowed does the day begin,\n  Shakes off his sleep, but shakes not off his sin.\n\nBut these strains were too devout to continue long in a heart as\nyet quite unsanctified; for how readily soever he could repeat such\nacknowledgments of the Divine power, presence, and goodness, and own his\nown follies and faults, he was stopped short by the remonstrances of\nconscience as to the flagrant absurdity of confessing sins he did not\ndesire to forsake, and of pretending to praise God for his mercies, when\nhe did not endeavour to live to his service, and to behave in such a\nmanner as gratitude, if sincere, would plainly dictate. A model of\ndevotion where such sentiments made no part, his good sense could not\ndigest; and the use of such language before a heart-searching God, merely\nas an hypocritical form, while the sentiments of his soul were contrary\nto it, justly appeared to him such daring profaneness, that, irregular as\nthe state of his mind was, the thought of it struck him with horror.\nHe therefore determined to make no more attempts of this sort, and was\nperhaps one of the first who deliberately laid aside prayer from some\nsense of God's omniscience, and some natural principle of honour and\nconscience.\n\nThese secret debates with himself and ineffectual efforts would sometimes\nreturn; but they were overborne again and again by the force of\ntemptation, and it is no wonder that in consequence of them his heart\ngrew yet harder. Nor was it softened or awakened by some very memorable\ndeliverances which at this time he received. He was in extreme danger by\na fall from his horse, as he was riding post I think in the streets of\nCalais. When going down a hill, the horse threw him over his head, and\npitched over him; so that when he rose, the beast lay beyond him, and\nalmost dead. Yet, though he received not the least harm, it made no\nserious impression on his mind. On his return from England in the\npacket-boat, if I remember right, but a few weeks after the former\naccident, a violent storm, that drove them up to Harwich, tossed them\nfrom thence for several hours in a dark night on the coast of Holland,\nand brought them into such extremity, that the captain of the vessel\nurged him to go to prayers immediately, if he ever intended to do it at\nall; for he concluded they would in a few minutes be at the bottom of the\nsea. In this circumstance he did pray, and that very fervently too; and\nit was very remarkable, that while he was crying to God for deliverance,\nthe wind fell, and quickly after they arrived at Calais. But the major\nwas so little affected with what had befallen him, that when some of his\ngay friends, on hearing the story, rallied him upon the efficacy of his\nprayers, he excused himself from the scandal of being thought much in\nearnest, by saying \"that it was at midnight, an hour when his good mother\nand aunt were asleep, or else he should have left that part of the\nbusiness to them;\"--a speech which I should not have mentioned, but as\nit shows in so lively a view the wretched situation of his mind at that\ntime, though his great deliverance from the power of darkness was then\nnearly approaching. He recounted these things to me with the greatest\nhumility, as showing how utterly unworthy he was of that miracle of\ndivine grace by which he was quickly after brought to so true and so\npermanent a sense of religion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nHIS CONVERSION.\n\n\nAnd now I am come to that astonishing part of his story, the account of\nhis conversion, which I cannot enter upon without assuring the reader\nthat I have sometimes been tempted to suppress many circumstances of\nit; not only as they may seem incredible to some, and enthusiastical to\nothers, but I am very sensible they are liable to great abuses; which was\nthe reason that he gave me for concealing the most extraordinary from\nmany persons to whom he mentioned some of the rest. And I believe it was\nthis, together with the desire of avoiding every thing that might look\nlike ostentation on this head, that prevented his leaving a written\naccount of it, though I have often entreated him to do it, as I\nparticularly remember I did in the very last letter I ever wrote him, and\npleaded the possibility of his falling amidst those dangers to which I\nknew his valour might, in such circumstances, naturally expose him. I was\nnot so happy as to receive any answer to this letter, which reached him\nbut a few days before his death; nor can I certainly say whether he had\nor had not complied with my request, as it is very possible a paper of\nthis kind, if it were written, might be lost amidst the ravages which the\nrebels made when they plundered Bankton.\n\nThe story, however, was so remarkable, that I had little reason to\napprehend I should ever forget it; and yet, to guard against all\ncontingencies of that kind, I wrote it down that very evening, as I heard\nit from his own mouth; and I have now before me the memoirs of that\nconversation, dated Aug. 14, 1739, which conclude with these words,\n(which I added that if we should both have died that night, the world\nmight not have lost this edifying and affecting history, or have wanted\nany attestation of it I was capable of giving): \"N.B. I have written down\nthis account with all the exactness I am capable of, and could safely\ntake an oath of it as to the truth of every circumstance, to the best of\nmy remembrance, as the colonel related it to me a few hours ago.\" I do\nnot know that I had reviewed this paper since I wrote it, till I set\nmyself thus publicly to record this extraordinary fact; but I find it\npunctually to agree with what I have often related from my memory, which\nI charged carefully with so wonderful and important a fact. It is with\nall solemnity that I now deliver it down to posterity as in the sight\nand presence of God; and I choose deliberately to expose myself to those\nsevere censures which the haughty but empty scorn of infidelity, or\nprinciples nearly approaching it, and effectually doing its pernicious\nwork, may very probably dictate upon the occasion, rather than to smother\na relation, which may, in the judgment of my conscience, be like to\nconduce so much to the glory of God, the honour of the gospel, and the\ngood of mankind. One thing more I will only premise, that I hope none who\nhave heard the colonel himself speak something of this wonderful scene,\nwill be surprised if they find some new circumstances here; because he\nassured me, at the time he first gave me the whole narration, (which was\nin the very room in which I now write,) that he had never imparted it\nso fully to any living before; yet, at the same time, he gave me full\nliberty to communicate it to whomsoever I should in my conscience\njudge it might be useful to do it, whether before or after his death.\nAccordingly I did, while he was alive, recount almost every circumstance\nI am now going to write, to several pious friends; referring them at the\nsame time to the colonel himself, whenever they might have an opportunity\nof seeing or writing to him, for a further confirmation of what I told\nthem, if they judged it requisite. They _glorified God in him_; and I\nhumbly hope many of my readers will also do it. They will soon perceive\nthe reason of so much caution in my introduction to this story, for\nwhich, therefore, I shall make no further apology.[*]\n\n[*Note: It is no small satisfaction to me, since I wrote this, to have\nreceived a letter from the Rev. Mr. Spears, minister of the gospel at\nBurntisland, dated Jan 14, 1746-7 in which he relates to me this whole\nstory, as he had it from the colonel's own mouth about four years after\nhe gave me the narration. There is not a single circumstance in which\neither of our narrations disagrees, and every one of the particulars in\nmine, which seems most astonishing, is attested by this, and sometimes in\nstronger words, one only excepted, on which I shall add a short remark\nwhen I come to it. As this letter was written near Lady Frances Gardiner\nat her desire, and attended with a postscript from her own hand, this\nis, in effect, a sufficient attestation how agreeable it was to those\naccounts which she must often have heard the colonel give of this\nmatter.]\n\n\nThis memorable event happened towards the middle of July, 1719; but I\ncannot be exact as to the day. The major had spent the evening (and if I\nmistake not, it was the Sabbath) in some gay company, and had an unhappy\nassignation with a married woman, of what rank or quality I did not\nparticularly inquire, whom he was to attend exactly at twelve. The\ncompany broke up about eleven; and not judging it convenient to\nanticipate the time appointed, he went into his chamber to kill the\ntedious hour, perhaps with some amusing book, or in some other way. But\nit very accidentally happened that he took up a religious book which\nhis good mother or aunt had, without his knowledge, slipped into his\nportmanteau. It was called, if I remember the title exactly, _The\nChristian Soldier, or Heaven taken by Storm_, and was written by Mr.\nThomas Watson. Guessing by the title of it that he should find some\nphrases of his own profession spiritualized in a manner which he thought\nmight afford him some diversion, he resolved to dip into it; but he took\nno serious notice of any thing he read in it; and yet, while this book\nwas in his hand, an impression was made upon his mind, (perhaps God only\nknows how,) which drew after it a train of the most important and happy\nconsequences.\n\nThere is indeed a possibility, that while he was sitting in this\nsolitude, and reading in this careless and profane manner, he might\nsuddenly fall asleep, and only dream of what he apprehended he saw. But\nnothing can be more certain than that, when he gave me this relation, he\njudged himself to have been as broad awake during the whole time as he\never was in any part of his life; and he mentioned it to me several times\nafterwards as what undoubtedly passed, not only in his imagination, but\nbefore his eyes.[*]\n\n[*Note: Mr. Spears, in the letter mentioned above, where he introduces\nthe colonel telling his own story, has these words \"All of a sudden\nthere was presented in a very lively manner to my view, or to my mind, a\nrepresentation of my glorious Redeemer,\" &c. And this gentleman adds, in\na parenthesis, \"It was so lively and striking, that he could not tell\nwhether it was to his bodily eyes, or to those of his mind.\" This makes\nme think that what I had said to him on the phenomena of visions,\napparitions, &c., (as being, when most real, supernatural impressions on\nthe imagination, rather than attended with any external object,) had some\ninfluence upon him. Yet still it is evident he looked upon this as a\nvision, whether it was before the eyes or in the mind, and not as a\ndream.]\n\n\nHe thought he saw an unusual blaze of light fall on the book while he was\nreading, which he at first imagined might happen by some accident in\nthe candle. But, lifting up his eyes, he apprehended, to his extreme\namazement, that there was before him, as it were suspended in the air,\na visible representation of the Lord Jesus Christ upon the cross,\nsurrounded on all sides with a glory; and was impressed as if a voice, or\nsomething equivalent to a voice, had come to him to this effect, (for he\nwas not confident as to the very words). \"Oh, sinner! did I suffer this\nfor thee, and are these the returns?\" But whether this were an audible\nvoice, or only a strong impression on his mind equally striking, he did\nnot seem very confident, though, to the best of my remembrance, he rather\njudged it to be the former. Struck with so amazing a phenomenon as this,\nthere remained hardly any life in him, so that he sunk down in the arm\nchair in which he sat, and continued, he knew not exactly how long,\ninsensible, (which was one circumstance that made me several times take\nthe liberty to suggest that he might possibly be all this while asleep,)\nbut however that were, he quickly after opened his eyes, and saw nothing\nmore than usual.\n\nIt may easily be supposed he was in no condition to make any observations\nupon the time in which he had remained in an insensible state, nor did\nhe, throughout all the remainder of the night, once recollect that\ncriminal and detestable assignation which had before engrossed all his\nthoughts. He rose in a tumult of passions not to be conceived, and walked\nto and fro in his chamber till he was ready to drop down in unutterable\nastonishment and agony of heart, appearing to himself the vilest monster\nin the creation of God, who had all his lifetime been crucifying\nChrist afresh by his sins, and now saw, as he assuredly believed, by\na miraculous vision, the horror of what he had done. With this was\nconnected such a view of both the majesty and goodness of God, as caused\nhim to loathe and abhor himself, and to repent as in dust and ashes. He\nimmediately gave judgment against himself, that he was most justly worthy\nof eternal damnation, he was astonished that he had not been immediately\nstruck dead in the midst of his wickedness, and (which I think deserves\nparticular remark) though he assuredly believed that he should ere long\nbe in hell, and settled it as a point with himself for several months\nthat the wisdom and justice of God did almost necessarily require\nthat such an enormous sinner should be made an example of everlasting\nvengeance, and a spectacle as such both to angels and men, so that he\nhardly durst presume to pray for pardon; yet what he then suffered was\nnot so much from the fear of hell, though he concluded it would soon be\nhis portion, as from a sense of that horrible ingratitude he had shown\nto the God of his life, and to that blessed Redeemer who had been in so\naffecting a manner set forth as crucified before him.\n\nTo this he refers in a letter dated from Douglas, the 1st of April 1725,\ncommunicated to me by his lady,[*] but I know not to whom it was addressed.\nHis words are these: \"One thing relating to my conversion, and a\nremarkable instance of the goodness of God to me, _the chief of sinners_,\nI do not remember that I ever told to any other person. It was this,\nthat after the astonishing sight I had of my blessed Lord, the terrible\ncondition in which I was proceeded not so much from the terrors of the\nlaw, as from a sense of having been so ungrateful a monster to him whom I\nthought I saw pierced for my transgressions.\" I the rather insert these\nwords, as they evidently attest the circumstance which may seem most\namazing in this affair, and contain so express a declaration of his own\napprehension concerning it.\n\n[*Note: Where I make any extracts as from Colonel Gardiner's letters,\nthey are either from originals, which I have in my own hands, or from\ncopies which were transmitted to me from persons of undoubted credit,\nchiefly by the Right Honourable the Lady Frances Gardiner, through the\nhands of the Rev. Mr. Webster, one of the ministers of Edinburgh. This\nI the rather mention, because some letters have been brought to me as\nColonel Gardiner's, concerning which I have not only been very dubious,\nbut morally certain that they could not have been written by him. I have\nalso heard of many who have been fond of assuring the world that they\nwere well acquainted with him, and were near him when he fell, whose\nreports have been most inconsistent with each other, as well as contrary\nto that testimony relating to the circumstances of his death, which,\non the whole, appeared to me beyond controversy the most natural and\nauthentic, from whence, therefore, I shall take my account of that\naffecting scene.]\n\n\nIn this view it may naturally be supposed that he passed the remainder\nof the night waking, and he could get but little rest in several that\nfollowed. His mind was continually taken up in reflecting on the divine\npurity and goodness; the grace which had been proposed to him in the\ngospel, and which he had rejected; the singular advantages he had enjoyed\nand abused; and the many favours of providence which he had received,\nparticularly in rescuing him from so many imminent dangers of death,\nwhich he now saw must have been attended with such dreadful and hopeless\ndestruction. The privileges of his education, which he had so much\ndespised, now lay with an almost insupportable weight on his mind; and\nthe folly of that career of sinful pleasure which he had so many years\nbeen running with desperate eagerness and unworthy delight, now filled\nhim with indignation against himself, and against the great deceiver, by\nwhom (to use his own phrase) he had been \"so wretchedly and scandalously\nbefooled.\" This he used often to express in the strongest terms, which I\nshall not repeat so particularly, as I cannot recollect some of them.\nBut on the whole it is certain that, by what passed before he left his\nchamber the next day, the whole frame and disposition of his soul was\nnew-modelled and changed; so that he became, and continued to the last\nday of his exemplary and truly Christian life, the very reverse of what\nhe had been before. A variety of particulars, which I am afterwards to\nmention, will illustrate this in the most convincing manner. But I cannot\nproceed to them without pausing to adore so illustrious an instance of\nthe power and freedom of divine grace, and entreating my reader seriously\nto reflect upon it, that his own heart may be suitably affected. For\nsurely, if the truth of the fact be admitted in the lowest views in which\nit can be placed, (that is, supposing the first impression to have passed\nin a dream,) it must be allowed to have been little, if anything less\nthan miraculous. It cannot in the course of nature be imagined how such\na dream should arise in a mind full of the most impure ideas and\naffections, and (as he himself often pleaded) more alienated from the\nthoughts of a crucified Saviour, than from any other object that can be\nconceived; nor can we surely suppose it should, without a mighty energy\nof the divine power, be effectual to produce not only some transient\nflow of passion, but so entire and permanent a change in character and\nconduct.\n\nOn the whole, therefore, I must beg leave to express my own sentiments of\nthe matter, by repeating on this occasion what I wrote several years ago,\nin my eighth sermon on regeneration, in a passage dictated chiefly by the\ncircumstantial knowledge which I had of this amazing story, and methinks\nsufficiently vindicated by it, if it stood entirely alone, which yet, I\nmust take the liberty to say, it does not; for I hope the world will be\nparticularly informed, that there is at least a second that very nearly\napproaches it, whenever the established church of England shall lose one\nof its brightest living ornaments, and one of the most useful members\nwhich that, or perhaps any other Christian communion, can boast. In the\nmean time, may his exemplary life be long continued, and his zealous\nministry abundantly prospered! I beg my reader's pardon for this\ndigression. The passage I referred to above is remarkably, though not\nequally, applicable to both the cases, under that head where I am showing\nthat God sometimes accomplishes the great work of which we speak,\nby secret and immediate impressions on the mind. After preceding\nillustrations, there are the following words, on which the colonel's\nconversion will throw the justest light. \"Yea, I have known those of\ndistinguished genius, polite manners, and great experience in human\naffairs, who, after having out-grown all the impressions of a religious\neducation--after having been hardened, rather than subdued by the most\nsingular mercies, even various, repeated, and astonishing deliverances,\nwhich have appeared to themselves as no less than miraculous--after\nhaving lived for years without God in the world, notoriously corrupt\nthemselves, and labouring to the utmost to corrupt others, have been\nstopped on a sudden in the full career of their sin, and have felt such\nrays of the divine presence, and of redeeming love, darting in upon\ntheir minds, almost like lightning from heaven, as have at once roused,\noverpowered, and transformed them; so that they have come out of their\nsecret chambers with an irreconcilable enmity to those vices to which,\nwhen they entered them, they were the tamest and most abandoned slaves;\nand have appeared from that very hour the votaries, the patrons, the\nchampions of religion; and after a course of the most resolute\nattachment to it, in spite of all the reasonings or the railleries, the\nimportunities or the reproaches of its enemies, they have continued to\nthis day some of its brightest ornaments; a change which I behold with\nequal wonder and delight, and which, if a nation should join in deriding\nit, I would adore as the finger of God.\"\n\nThe mind of Major Gardiner continued from this remarkable time, till\ntowards the end of October, (that is rather more than three months, but\nespecially the first two of them,) in as extraordinary a situation as one\ncan well imagine. He knew nothing of the joys arising from a sense of\npardon; but, on the contrary, for the greater part of that time, and with\nvery short intervals of hope towards the end of it, took it for granted\nthat he must in all probability quickly perish. Nevertheless, he had such\na sense of the evil of sin, of the goodness of the Divine Being, and of\nthe admirable tendency of the Christian revelation, that he resolved to\nspend the remainder of his life, while God continued him out of hell, in\nas rational and as useful a manner as he could; and to continue casting\nhimself at the foot of divine mercy every day, and often in a day, if\nperadventure there might be hope of pardon, of which all that he could\nsay was, that he did not absolutely despair. He had at that time such a\nsense of the degeneracy of his own heart, that he hardly durst form any\ndeterminate resolution against sin, or pretend to engage himself by any\nvow in the presence of God; but he was continually crying to him, that he\nwould deliver him from the bondage of corruption. He perceived in himself\na most surprising alteration with regard to the dispositions of his\nheart; so that, though he felt little of the delight of religious duties,\nhe extremely desired opportunities of being engaged in them; and\nthose licentious pleasures which had before been his heaven, were now\nabsolutely his aversion. And indeed, when I consider how habitual all\nthose criminal indulgences were grown to him, and that he was now in the\nprime of life, and all this while in high health too, I cannot but\nbe astonished to reflect upon it, that he should be so wonderfully\nsanctified in body, as well as in soul and spirit, as that, for all the\nfuture years of his life, he from that hour should find so constant a\ndisinclination to, and abhorrence of, those criminal sensualities to\nwhich he fancied he was before so invincibly impelled by his very\nconstitution, that he was used strangely to think, and to say; that\nOmnipotence itself could not reform him, without destroying that body,\nand giving him another.[*]\n\n[*Note: Mr. Spears expresses this wonderful circumstance in these\nremarkable words \"I was (said the colonel to me) effectually cured of all\ninclination to that sin I was so strongly addicted to, that I thought\nnothing but shooting me through the head could have cured me of it, and\nall desire and inclination to it was removed, as entirely as if I had\nbeen a sucking child, nor did the temptation return to this day.\" Mr.\nWebster's words on the same subject are these \"One thing I have heard the\ncolonel frequently say, that he was much addicted to impurity before his\nacquaintance with religion, but that, so soon as he was enlightened from\nabove, he _felt the power of the Holy Ghost_ changing his nature so\nwonderfully, that his sanctification in this respect seemed more\nremarkable than in any other.\" On which that worthy person makes this\nvery reasonable reflection \"So thorough a change of such a polluted\nnature, evidenced by the most unblemished walk and conversation for a\nlong course of years, demonstrates indeed the power of the Highest, and\nleaves no room to doubt of its reality.\" Mr. Spears says, this happened\nin three days' time, but from what I can recollect, all that the colonel\ncould mean by that expression, if he used it, (as I conclude he did,) was\nthat he began to make the observation in the space of three days whereas,\nduring that time, his thoughts were so taken up with the wonderful views\npresented to his mind, that he did not immediately attend to it. If he\nhad, within the first three days, any temptation to seek some ease from\nthe anguish of his mind, in returning to former sensualities, it is a\ncircumstance he did not mention to me, and by what I can recollect of\nthe strain of his discourse, he intimated if he did not express the\ncontrary.]\n\nNor was he only delivered from that bondage of corruption which had been\nhabitual to him for many years, but felt in his breast so contrary a\ndisposition, that he was grieved to see human nature, in those to whom he\nwas most entirely a stranger, prostituted to such low and contemptible\npursuits. He therefore exerted his natural courage in a very new kind of\ncombat, and became an open advocate for religion in all its principles,\nso far as he was acquainted with them, and all its precepts, relating\nto sobriety, righteousness, and godliness. Yet he was very desirous and\ncautious that he might not run into extremes, and made it one of his\nfirst petitions to God, the very day after these amazing impressions had\nbeen wrought in his mind, that he might not be suffered to behave with\nsuch an affected strictness and preciseness as would lead others about\nhim into mistaken notions of religion, and expose it to reproach or\nsuspicion, as if it were an unlovely or uncomfortable thing. For this\nreason, he endeavoured to appear as cheerful in conversation as he\nconscientiously could; though, in spite of all his precautions, some\ntraces of that deep inward sense which he had of his guilt and misery\nwould at times appear. He made no secret of it, however, that his views\nwere entirely changed, though he concealed the particular circumstances\nattending that change. He told his most intimate companions freely that\nhe had reflected on the course of life in which he had so long joined\nthem, and found it to be folly and madness, unworthy a rational creature,\nand much more unworthy persons calling themselves Christians. And he set\nup his standard, upon all occasions, against principles of infidelity and\npractices of vice, as determinately and as boldly as ever he displayed or\nplanted his colours, when he bore them with so much honour in the field.\n\nI cannot forbear mentioning one struggle of this kind which he described\nto me, with a large detail of circumstances, the first day of our\nacquaintance. There was at that time in Paris a certain lady (whose name,\nthen well known in the grand and gay world, I must beg leave to conceal)\nwho had imbibed the principles of deism, and valued herself much upon\nbeing an avowed advocate for them. The major, with his usual frankness,\n(though I doubt not with that politeness of manners which was so habitual\nto him, and which he retained throughout his whole life,) answered her\nlike a man who perfectly saw through the fallacy of her arguments,\nand was grieved to the heart for her delusions. On this she briskly\nchallenged him to debate the matter at large, and to fix upon a day for\nthat purpose, when he should dine with her, attended by any clergyman he\nmight choose, whether of the Protestant or Catholic communion. A sense\nof duty would not allow him to decline this challenge; and yet he had no\nsooner accepted it, but he was thrown into great perplexity and distress\nlest, being, as I remember he expressed it when he told me the story,\nonly a Christian of six weeks old, he should prejudice so good a cause by\nhis unskilful manner of defending it. However, he sought his refuge in\nearnest and repeated prayers to God, that he who can ordain strength, and\nperfect praise, out of the mouth of babes and sucklings, would graciously\nenable him on this occasion to vindicate his truths in a manner which\nmight carry conviction along with it. He then endeavoured to marshal the\narguments in his own mind as well as he could; and apprehending that\nhe could not speak with so much freedom before a number of persons,\nespecially before such whose province he might seem in that case to\ninvade, if he had not devolved the principal part of the discourse upon\nthem, he easily admitted the apology of a clergyman or two, to whom\nhe mentioned the affair, and waited on the lady alone upon the day\nappointed. But his heart was so set upon the business, that he came\nearlier than he was expected, and time enough to have two hours'\ndiscourse before dinner; nor did he at all decline having two persons,\nnearly related to the lady, present during the conference. The major\nopened it, with a view of such arguments for the Christian religion as\nhe had digested in his own mind, to prove that the apostles were not\nmistaken themselves, and that they could not have intended to impose upon\nus, in the accounts they give of the grand facts they attest; with the\ntruth of which facts, that of the Christian religion is most apparently\nconnected. And it was a great encouragement to him to find, that\nunaccustomed as he was to discourses of this nature, he had an unusual\ncommand both of thought and expression, so that he recollected and\nuttered every thing as he could have wished. The lady heard with\nattention; and though he paused between every branch of the argument, she\ndid not interrupt the course of it till he told her he had finished\nhis design, and waited for her reply. She then, produced some of her\nobjections, which he took up and canvassed in such a manner that at\nlength she burst into tears, allowed the force of his arguments and\nreplies, and appeared for some time after so deeply impressed with the\nconversation, that it was observed by several of her friends; and there\nis reason to believe that the impression continued, at least so far as to\nprevent her from ever appearing under the character of an unbeliever or a\nsceptic.\n\nThis is only one specimen among many of the battles he was almost daily\ncalled out to fight in the cause of religion and virtue; with relation to\nwhich I find him expressing himself thus in a letter to Mrs. Gardiner,\nhis good mother, dated from Paris the 25th of January following, that\nis 1719-20, in answer to one in which she had warned him to expect such\ntrials: \"I have (says he) already met with them, and am obliged to fight,\nand to dispute every inch of ground. But all thanks and praise to the\ngreat Captain of my salvation. He fights for me, and then it is no wonder\nthat I come off more than conqueror:\" by which last expression I suppose\nhe meant to insinuate that he was strengthened and established, rather\nthan overborne, by this opposition. Yet it was not immediately that he\ngained such fortitude. He has often told me how much he felt in those\ndays of the emphasis of those well-chosen words of the apostle, in which\nhe ranks the trial of cruel mockings, with scourgings, and bonds, and\nimprisonments. The continual railleries with which he was received, in\nalmost all companies where he had been most familiar before, did often\ndistress him beyond measure; so that he several times declared he would\nmuch rather have marched up to a battery of the enemy's cannon, than have\nbeen obliged, so continually as he was, to face such artillery as this.\nBut, like a brave soldier in the first action wherein he is engaged, he\ncontinued resolute, though shuddering at the terror of the assault; and\nquickly overcame those impressions which it is not perhaps in nature\nwholly to avoid; and therefore I find him, in the letter above referred\nto, which was written about half a year after his conversion, \"quite\nashamed to think of the uneasiness which these things once gave him.\" In\na word, he went on, as every resolute Christian by divine grace may do,\ntill he turned ridicule and opposition into respect and veneration.\n\nBut this sensible triumph over these difficulties was not till his\nChristian experience had been abundantly advanced by the blessing of God\non the sermons he heard, (particularly in the Swiss chapel,) and on the\nmany hours which he spent in devout retirement, pouring out his whole\nsoul before God in prayer. He began, within about two months after his\nfirst memorable change, to perceive some secret dawnings of more cheerful\nhope, that vile as he saw himself to be, (and I believe no words can\nexpress how vile that was,) he might nevertheless obtain mercy through\nthe Redeemer. At length (if I remember right, about the end of October,\n1719) he found all the burthen of his mind taken off at once by the\npowerful impression of that memorable scripture on his mind, Romans iii.\n25, 26, \"Whom God hath set forth for a propitiation through faith in his\nblood, to declare his righteousness in the remission of sins,--that he\nmight be just, and the justifier of him that believeth in Jesus.\" He had\nused to imagine that the justice of God required the damnation of so\nenormous a sinner as he saw himself to be; but now he was made deeply\nsensible that the divine justice might be not only vindicated, but\nglorified, in saving him by the blood of Jesus, even that blood which\ncleanseth us from all sin. Then did he see and feel the riches of\nredeeming love and grace in such a manner as not only engaged him with\nthe utmost pleasure and confidence to venture his soul upon it, but even\nswallowed up, as it were, his whole heart in the returns of love, which\nfrom that blessed time became this genuine and delightful principle of\nhis obedience, and animated him, with an enlarged heart, to run the way\nof God's commandments. Thus God was pleased (as he himself used to speak)\nin an hour to turn his captivity. All the terrors of his former state\nwere changed into unutterable joy, which kept him almost continually\nwaking for three nights together, and yet refreshed him as the noblest of\ncordials. His expressions, though naturally very strong, always seemed\nto be swallowed up when he would describe the series of thought through\nwhich he now passed, under the rapturous experience of that joy\nunspeakable and full of glory, which then seemed to overflow his very\nsoul, as indeed there was nothing he seemed to speak of with greater\nrelish. And though the first ecstasies of it afterwards subsided into a\nmore calm and composed delight, yet were the impressions so deep and so\npermanent, that he assured me, on the word of a Christian and a friend,\nwonderful as it might seem, that, for about seven years after this, he\nenjoyed almost heaven upon earth. His soul was so continually filled with\na sense of the love of God in Christ, that it knew little interruption,\nbut when necessary converse, and the duties of his station, called off\nhis thoughts for a little time. And when they did so, as soon as he was\nalone, the torrent returned into its natural channel again; so that, from\nthe minute of awakening in the morning, his heart was raised to God, and\ntriumphing in him; and these thoughts attended him through all the scenes\nof life, till he lay down on his bed again, and a short parenthesis\nof sleep (for it was but a very short one that he allowed himself)\ninvigorated his animal powers, for renewing them with greater intenseness\nand sensibility.\n\nI shall have an opportunity of illustrating this in the most convincing\nmanner below, by extracts from several letters which he wrote to intimate\nfriends during this happy period of time--letters which breathe a spirit\nof such sublime and fervent piety as I have seldom met with any where\nelse. In these circumstances, it is no wonder that he was greatly\ndelighted with Dr. Watts's imitation of the 126th Psalm, since it may be\nquestioned whether there ever was a person to whom the following stanzas\nof it were more suitable:--\n\n  When God revealed his gracious name,\n  And changed my mournful state,\n  My rapture seemed a pleasing dream,\n  Thy grace appeared so great.\n\n  The world beheld the glorious change,\n  And did thine hand confess;\n  My tongue broke out in unknown strains,\n  And sung surprising grace.\n\n  \"Great is the work,\" my neighbours cried,\n  And owned the power divine:\n  \"Great is the work,\" my heart replied,\n  \"And be the glory thine.\"\n\n  The Lord can change the darkest skies,\n  Can give us day for night,\n  Make drops of sacred sorrow rise,\n  To rivers of delight.\n\n  Let those that sow in sadness, wait\n  Till the fair harvest come!\n  They shall confess their sheaves are great,\n  And shout the blessings home.\n\nI have been so happy as to get the sight of five original letters which\nhe wrote to his mother about this time, which do, in a lively manner,\nillustrate the surprising change made in the whole current of his\nthoughts and temper of his mind. Many of them were written in the\nmost hasty manner, just as the courier who brought them was perhaps\nunexpectedly setting out, and they relate chiefly to affairs in which the\npublic is not at all concerned; yet there is not one of them in which he\nhas not inserted some warm and genuine sentiment of religion. Indeed it\nis very remarkable, that though he was pleased to honour me with a great\nmany letters, and I have seen several more which he wrote to others, some\nof them on journeys, where he could have but a few minutes at command,\nyet I cannot recollect that I ever saw any one in which there was not\nsome trace of piety; and the Rev. Mr. Webster, who was employed to review\ngreat numbers of them, that he might select such extracts as he should\nthink proper to communicate to me, has made the same observation.[*]\n\n[*Note: His words are these: \"I have read over a vast number of the\ncolonel's letters, and have not found any one of them, however short,\nand writ in the most passing manner, even when posting, but what is\nexpressive of the most passionate breathings towards his God and Saviour.\nIf the letter consists but of two sentences, religion is not forgot,\nwhich doubtless deserves to be carefully remarked, as the most\nuncontested evidence of a pious mind, ever under the warmest impressions\nof divine things.\"]\n\nThe major, with great justice, tells the good lady his mother, \"that when\nshe saw him again she would find the person indeed the same, but every\nthing else entirely changed.\" And she might easily have perceived it of\nherself by the whole tenor of these letters, which every where breathe\nthe unaffected spirit of a true Christian. They are taken up sometimes\nwith giving advice and directions concerning some pious and charitable\ncontributions, one of which, I remember, amounted to ten guineas, though\nas he was then out of commission, and had not formerly been very frugal,\nit cannot be supposed he had much to spare; sometimes in speaking of\nthe pleasure with which he attended sermons, and expected sacramental\nopportunities; and at other times in exhorting her, established as she\nwas in religion, to labour after a yet more exemplary character and\nconduct, or in recommending her to the divine presence and blessing, as\nwell as himself to her prayers. What satisfaction such letters as these\nmust give to a lady of her distinguished piety, who had so long wept over\nthis dear and amiable son as quite lost to God, and on the verge of final\ndestruction, it is not for me to describe, nor indeed to conceive. But\nhastily as these letters were written, only for private view, I will\ngive a few specimens from them in his own words, which will serve to\nillustrate as well as confirm what I have hinted above.\n\n\"I must take the liberty,\" says he, in a letter dated on the first day of\nthe new year, or, according to the old style, Dec. 21, 1719, \"to entreat\nyou that you would receive no company on the Lord's day. I know you have\na great many good acquaintance, with whose discourses one might be very\nwell edified; but as you cannot keep out and let in whom you please, the\nbest way, in my humble opinion, will be to see none.\" In another, of\nJan. 25, \"I am happier than any one can imagine, except I could put him\nexactly in the same situation with myself; which is what the world\ncannot give, and no man ever attained it, unless it were from above.\"\nIn another, dated March 30, which was just before a sacrament day,\n\"To-morrow, if it please God, I shall be happy, my soul being to be fed\nwith the bread of life which came down from heaven. I shall be mindful\nof you all there.\" In another of Jan. 29, he thus expresses that\nindifference for worldly possessions which he so remarkably carried\nthrough the remainder of his life: \"I know the rich are only stewards for\nthe poor, and must give an account of every penny; therefore, the less I\nhave, the more easy will it be to give an account of it.\" And to add no\nmore from these letters at present, in the conclusion of one of them he\nhas these comprehensive and solemn words: \"Now that He, who is the ease\nof the afflicted, the support of the weak, the wealth of the poor, the\nteacher of the ignorant, the anchor of the fearful, and the infinite\nreward of all faithful souls, may pour out upon you all his richest\nblessings, shall always be the prayer of him who is entirely yours,\" &c.\n\nTo this account of his correspondence with his excellent mother, I should\nbe glad to add a large view of another, to which she introduced him,\nwith that reverend and valuable person under whose pastoral care she was\nplaced--I mean the justly celebrated Doctor Edmund Calamy, to whom she\ncould not but early communicate the joyful news of her son's conversion.\nI am not so happy as to be possessed of the letters which passed between\nthem, which I have reason to believe would make a curious and valuable\ncollection; but I have had the pleasure of receiving from my worthy\nand amiable friend, the Rev. Mr. Edmund Calamy, one of the letters the\ndoctor, his father, wrote to the major on this wonderful occasion. I\nperceive by the contents of it that it was the first, and, indeed, it is\ndated as early as the 3d of August, 1719, which must be but a few days\nafter his own account, dated August 4, N.S., could reach England. There\nis so much true religion and good sense in this paper, and the counsel\nit suggests may be so reasonable to other persons in circumstances which\nbear any resemblance to his, that I make no apology to my reader for\ninserting a large extract from it.\n\n\"Dear Sir,--I conceive it will not much surprise you to understand that\nyour good mother communicated to me your letter to her, dated August 4,\nN.S., which brought her the news you conceive would be so acceptable\nto her. I, who have often been a witness to her concern for you on a\nspiritual account, can attest with what joy this news was received by\nher, and imparted to me as a special friend, who she knew would bear\na part with her on such an occasion. And, indeed, if (as our Saviour\nintimates, Luke xv. 7, 10,) there is, is such cases, joy in heaven and\namong the angels of God, it may be well supposed that of a pious mother\nwho has spent so many prayers and tears upon you, and has, as it were,\ntravailed in birth with you again till Christ was formed in you, could\nnot be small. You may believe me if I add, that I also, as a common\nfriend of hers and yours, and which is much more, of the Prince of Light,\nwhom you now declare you heartily fall in with in opposition to that of\nthe dark kingdom, could not but be tenderly affected with an account\nof it under your own hand. My joy on this account was the greater,\nconsidering the importance of your capacity, interests, and prospects,\nwhich, in such an age as this, may promise most happy consequences, on\nyour heartily appearing on God's side, and embarking in the interest of\nour Redeemer. If I have hitherto at all remembered you at the throne\nof grace, at your good mother's desire, (which you are pleased to take\nnotice of with so much respect,) I can assure you I shall henceforth\nbe led to do it, with more concern and particularity both by duty and\ninclination; and if I were capable of giving you any little assistance in\nthe noble design you are engaging in, by corresponding with you by letter\nwhile you are at such a distance, I should do it most cheerfully. And\nperhaps such a motion may not, be altogether unacceptable; for I am\ninclinable to believe, that when some whom you are obliged to converse\nwith, observe your behaviour so different from what it formerly was, and\nbanter you upon it as mad and fanciful, it may be some little relief\nto correspond with one who will take a pleasure in heartening and\nencouraging you. And when a great many things frequently offer, in which\nconscience may be concerned where duty may not always be plain, nor\nsuitable persons to advise with at hand, it may be some satisfaction to\nyou to correspond with one with whom you may use a friendly freedom\nin all such matters, and on whose fidelity you may depend. You may,\ntherefore, command me in any of these respects, and I shall take a\npleasure in serving you. One piece of advice I shall venture to give you,\nthough your own good sense will make my enlarging upon it less needful--I\nmean, that you would, from your first setting out, carefully distinguish\nbetween the essentials of real religion, and those things which are\ncommonly reckoned by its professors to belong to it. The want of this\ndistinction has had very unhappy consequences from one age to another,\nand perhaps in none more than the present. But your daily converse with\nyour Bible, which you mention, may herein give you great assistance. I\nmove also, that since infidelity so much abounds, you would not only, by\nclose and serious consideration, endeavour to settle yourself well in the\nfundamental principles of religion; but also that, as opportunity offers,\nyou would converse with those books which treat most judiciously on the\ndivine original of Christianity, such as Grotins, Abbadie, Baxter, Bates,\nDu Plessis, &c., which may establish you against the cavils that occur\nin almost all conversations, and furnish you with arguments which, when\nproperly offered, may be of use to make some impression on others. But\nbeing too much straitened to enlarge at present, I can only add, that if\nyour hearty falling in with serious religion should prove any hinderance\nto your advancement in the world, (which I pray God it may not, unless\nsuch advancement would be a real snare to you,) I hope you will trust\nour Saviour's word, that it shall be no disadvantage to you in the final\nissue: he has given you his word for it, Matt. xix. 29, upon which you\nmay safely depend; and I am satisfied none that ever did so at last\nrepented of it. May you go on and prosper, and the God of all grace and\npeace be with you!\"\n\nI think it very evident from the contents of this letter, that the major\nhad not imparted to his mother the most singular circumstances attending\nhis conversion; and indeed there was something so peculiar in them,\nthat I do not wonder he was always cautious in speaking of them, and\nespecially that he was at first much on the reserve. We may also\nnaturally reflect that there seems to have been something very\nprovidential in this letter, considering the debate in which our\nillustrious convert was so soon engaged; for it was written but about\nthree weeks before his conference with the lady above mentioned in the\ndefence of Christianity, or at least before the appointment of it. And as\nsome of the books recommended by Dr. Calamy, particularly Abbadie and Du\nPlessis, were undoubtedly within his reach, (if our English advocates\nwere not,) this might, by the divine blessing, contribute considerably\ntowards arming him for that combat in which he came off with such happy\nsuccess. As in this instance, so in many others, they who will observe\nthe coincidence and concurrence of things, may be engaged to adore the\nwise conduct of Providence in events which, when taken singly and by\nthemselves, have nothing very remarkable in them.\n\nI think it was about this time that this resolute and exemplary Christian\nentered upon that methodical manner of living which he pursued through\nso many succeeding years of life, and I believe generally, so far as the\nbroken state of his health would allow it in his latter days, to the very\nend of it. He used constantly to rise at four in the morning, and to\nspend his time till six in the secret exercises of devotion, reading,\nmeditation, and prayer, in which last he contracted such a fervency of\nspirit as I believe few men living ever obtained. This certainly tended\nvery much to strengthen that firm faith in God, and reverent animating\nsense of his presence, for which he was so eminently remarkable, and\nwhich carried him through the trials and services of life with such\nsteadiness and with such activity; for he indeed endured and acted as\nalways seeing Him who is invisible. If at any time he was obliged to go\nout before six in the morning, he rose proportionably sooner; so that\nwhen a journey or a march has required him to be on horseback by four, he\nwould be at his devotions at furthest by two. He likewise secured time\nfor retirement in an evening; and that he might have it the more at\ncommand, and be the more fit to use it properly, as well as be better\nable to rise early the next morning, he generally went to bed about ten;\nand, during the time I was acquainted with him, he seldom ate any supper\nbut a mouthful of bread, with one glass of wine. In consequence of this,\nas well as of his admirably good constitution, and the long habit he had\nformed, he required less sleep than most persons I have known; and I\ndoubt not but his uncommon progress in piety was in a great measure owing\nto these resolute habits of self-denial.\n\nA life anything like this could not, to be sure, be entered upon in the\nmidst of such company as he had been accustomed to keep, without great\nopposition, especially as he did not entirely withdraw himself from all\nthe circle of cheerful conversation; but, on the contrary, gave several\nhours every day to it, lest religion should be reproached as having made\nhim morose. He however, early began a practice, which to the last day of\nhis life he retained, of reproving vice and profaneness; and was never\nafraid to debate the matter with any one, under the consciousness of\ngreat superiority in the goodness of his cause.\n\nA remarkable instance of this happened, if I mistake not, about the\nmiddle of 1720, though I cannot be very exact as to the date of the\nstory. It was, however, on his first return to make any considerable\nabode in England after this remarkable change. He had heard, on the other\nside of the water, that it was currently reported among his companions\nat home that he was stark mad--a report at which no reader who knows the\nwisdom of the world in these matters, will be much surprised, any more\nthan himself. He concluded, therefore, that he should have many battles\nto fight, and was willing to dispatch the business as fast as he could.\nAnd therefore, being to spend a few days at the country-house of a person\nof distinguished rank, with whom he had been very intimate, (whose name\nI do not remember that he told me, nor did I think it proper to inquire\nafter it,) he begged the favour of him that he would contrive matters\nso, that, a day or two after he came down, several of their former gay\ncompanions might meet at his lordship's table, that he might have an\nopportunity of making his apology to them, and acquainting them with the\nnature and reasons of his change. It was accordingly agreed to; and a\npretty large company met on the day appointed, with previous notice that\nMajor Gardiner would be there. A good deal of raillery passed at dinner,\nto which the major made very little answer. But when the cloth was taken\naway, and the servants retired, he begged their patience for a few\nminutes, and then plainly and seriously told them what notions he\nentertained of virtue and religion, and on what considerations he had\nabsolutely determined that by the grace of God he would make it the care\nand business of life, whatever he might lose by it, and whatever censure\nand contempt he might incur. He well knew how improper it was in such\ncompany to relate the extraordinary manner in which he was awakened,\nwhich they would probably have interpreted as a demonstration of lunacy,\nagainst all the gravity and solidity of his discourse; but he contented\nhimself with such a rational defence of a righteous, sober, and godly\nlife, as he knew none of them could with any shadow of reason contest. He\nthen challenged them to propose any thing they could urge, to prove that\na life of irreligion and debauchery was preferable to the fear, love and\nworship of the eternal God, and a conduct agreeable to the precepts\nof his gospel. And he failed not to bear his testimony, from his own\nexperience, (to one part of which many of them had been witnesses) that\nafter having run the widest round of sensual pleasure, with all the\nadvantages the best constitution and spirits could give him, he had never\ntasted any thing that deserved to be called happiness, till he had made\nreligion his refuge and his delight. He testified calmly and boldly the\nhabitual serenity and peace which he now felt in his own breast, (for the\nmost elevated delights he did not think fit to plead, lest they should be\nesteemed enthusiasm,) and the composure and pleasure with which he looked\nforward to objects which the gayest sinner must acknowledge to be equally\nunavoidable and dreadful.\n\nI know not what might be attempted by some of the company in answer to\nthis; but I well remember that he told me that the master of the table, a\nperson of a very frank and candid disposition, cut short the debate, and\nsaid, \"Come, let us call another cause. We thought this man mad, and\nhe is in good earnest proving that we are so.\" On the whole, this\nwell-judged circumstance saved him a great deal of future trouble. When\nhis former acquaintances observed that he was still conversible and\ninnocently cheerful, and that he was immovable in his resolutions, they\ndesisted from further importunity; and he has assured me, that instead of\nlosing any one valuable friend by the change in his character, he found\nhimself much more esteemed and regarded by many who could not persuade\nthemselves to imitate his example.\n\nI have not any memoirs of Colonel Gardiner's life, or of any other\nremarkable event befalling him in it, from the time of his return to\nEngland till his marriage in the year 1726, except the extracts which\nhave been sent me from some letters, which he wrote to his religious\nfriends during this interval, and which I cannot pass by without a more\nparticular notice. It may be recollected, that in consequence of\nthe reduction of that regiment of which he was major, he was out of\ncommission from Nov. 10, 1718, till June 1, 1724; and, after he returned\nfrom Paris, I find all his letters during this period dated from London,\nwhere he continued in communion with the Christian society under the\npastoral care of Dr. Calamy. As his good mother also belonged to the\nsame, it is easy to imagine it must have been an unspeakable pleasure to\nher to have such frequent opportunities of conversing with such a son, of\nobserving in his daily conduct and discourses the blessed effects of that\nchange which divine grace had made in his heart, and of sitting down with\nhim monthly at that sacred feast where Christians so frequently enjoy\nthe divinest entertainments which they expect on this side heaven. I the\nrather mention this ordinance, because, as this excellent lady had a very\nhigh esteem for it, so she had an opportunity of attending it but the\nvery Lord's day immediately preceding her death, which happened on\nThursday, October 7, 1725, after her son had been removed from her almost\na year. He had maintained her handsomely out of that very moderate income\non which he subsisted since his regiment had been disbanded; and when she\nexpressed her gratitude to him for it, he assured her (in one of the last\nletters she ever received from him) \"that he esteemed it a great honour\nthat God put it into his power to make what he called a very small\nacknowledgment of all her care for him, and especially of the many\nprayers she had offered on his account, which had already been remarkably\nanswered, and the benefit of which he hoped ever to enjoy.\"\n\nI apprehend that the Earl of Stair's regiment, to the majority of\nwhich he was promoted on the 20th of July, 1724, was then quartered in\nScotland; for all the letters in my hand, from that time to the 6th of\nFebruary, 1726, are dated from thence, and particularly from Douglas,\nStranraer, Hamilton, and Ayr. But I have the pleasure to find, from\ncomparing these with others of an earlier date from London and the\nneighbouring parts, that neither the detriment which he must suffer by\nbeing so long out of commission, nor the hurry of affairs while charged\nwith it, could prevent or interrupt that intercourse with Heaven, which\nwas his daily feast, and his daily strength.\n\nThese were most eminently the happy years of his life; for he had\nlearned to estimate his happiness, not by the increase of honour, or the\npossession of wealth, or by what was much dearer to his generous heart\nthan either, the converse of the dearest and worthiest human friends; but\nby nearness to God, and by opportunities of humble converse with him, in\nthe lively exercise of contemplation, praise, and prayer. Now there was\nno period of his life in which he was more eminently favoured with these,\nnor do I find any of his letters so overflowing with transports of holy\njoy, as those which were dated during this time. There are indeed in some\nof them such very sublime passages, that I have been dubious whether I\nshould communicate them to the public or not, lest I should administer\nmatter of profane ridicule to some, who look upon all the elevations\nof devotion as contemptible enthusiasm. And it has also given me some\napprehensions lest it should discourage some pious Christians, who, after\nhaving spent several years in the service of God, and in humble obedience\nto the precepts of his gospel, may not have attained to any such heights\nas these. But, on the whole, I cannot satisfy myself to suppress them;\nnot only as I number some of them, considered in a devotional view, among\nthe most extraordinary pieces of the kind I have ever met with; but as\nsome of the most excellent and judicious persons I any where know, to\nwhom I have read them, have assured me that they felt their hearts in an\nunusual manner impressed, quickened, and edified by them.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nLETTERS.\n\n\nI will therefore draw back the veil, and show my much honoured friend in\nhis most secret recesses, that the world may see what those springs were,\nfrom whence issued that clear, permanent and living stream of wisdom,\npiety, and virtue, which so evidently ran through all that part of his\nlife which was open to public observation. It is not to be imagined that\nletters written in the intimacy of Christian friendship, some of them\nwith the most evident marks of haste, and amidst a variety of important\npublic cares, should be adorned with any studied elegance of expression,\nabout which the greatness of his soul would not allow him to be at any\ntime very solicitous, for he generally (as far as I could observe) wrote\nas fast as his pen could move, which, happily both for him and his many\nfriends, was very freely. Yet here the grandeur of his subject has\nsometimes clothed his ideas with a language more elevated than is\nordinarily to be expected in an epistolary correspondence. The proud\nscorners who may deride sentiments and enjoyments like those which this\ntruly great man so experimentally and pathetically describes, I pity from\nmy heart, and grieve to think how unfit they must be for the hallelujahs\nof heaven, who pour contempt upon the nearest approaches to them; nor\nshall I think it any misfortune to share with so excellent a person their\nprofane derision. It will be infinitely more than an equivalent for all\nthat such ignorance and petulancy can think and say, if I may convince\nsome, who are as yet strangers to religion, how real and how noble its\ndelights are--if I may engage my pious readers to glorify God for so\nillustrious an instance of his grace--and finally, if I may quicken them,\nand, above all, may rouse my own too indolent spirit to follow with less\nunequal steps an example, to the sublimity of which, I fear, few of us\nshall, after all, be able fully to attain. And that we may not be too\nmuch discouraged under the deficiency, let it be recollected that few\nhave the advantage of a temper naturally so warm; few have an equal\ncommand of retirement; and perhaps hardly any one who thinks himself\nmost indebted to the riches and freedom of divine grace, can trace\ninterpositions of it in all respects equally astonishing.\n\nThe first of these extraordinary letters which have fallen into my hand,\nis dated near three years after his conversion, and addressed to a\nlady of quality. I believe it is the first the major ever wrote, so\nimmediately on the subject of his religious consolations and converse\nwith God in devout retirement; for I well remember that he once told me\nhe was so much afraid that something of spiritual pride should mingle\nitself with the relation of such kind of experiences, that he concealed\nthem a long time; but observing with how much freedom the sacred writers\nopen all the most secret recesses of their hearts, especially in the\nPsalms; his conscience began to be burdened, under an apprehension that,\nfor the honour of God, and in order to engage the concurrent praises of\nsome of his people, he ought to disclose them. On this he set himself to\nreflect who among all his numerous acquaintance seemed at once the most\nexperienced Christians, (to whom, therefore, such things as he had to\ncommunicate might appear solid and credible,) and who the humblest. He\nquickly thought of the Lady Marchioness of Douglas in this view; and the\nreader may well imagine that it struck my mind very strongly, to think\nthat now, more than twenty-four years after it was written, Providence\nshould bring to my hands (as it has done within these few days) what I\nassuredly believe to be a genuine copy of that very letter, which I had\nnot the least reason to expect I should ever have seen, when I learned\nfrom his own mouth, amidst the freedom of an accidental conversation, the\noccasion and circumstances of it. It is dated from London, July 21, 1722,\nand the very first lines of it relate to a remarkable circumstance which,\nfrom others of his letters, I find happened several times; I mean, that\nwhen he had received from any of his Christian friends a few lines which\nparticularly affected his heart, he could not stay till the stated return\nof his devotional hour, but immediately retired to pray for them, and to\ngive vent to those religious emotions of mind which such a correspondence\nraised. How invaluable was such a friend! and what great reason have\nthose of us who once possessed a large share in his heart, and in those\nretired and sacred moments, to bless God for so singular a felicity;\nand to comfort ourselves in a pleasing hope that we may yet reap future\nblessings, as the harvest of those petitions which he can no more repeat.\n\nHis words are these:\n\n\"I was so happy as to receive yours just as I arrived, and had no sooner\nread it but I shut my door, and sought Him whom my soul loveth. I sought\nhim, and found him; and would not let him go till he had blessed us all.\nIt is impossible to find words to express what I obtained; but I suppose\nit was something like that which the disciples got, as they were going\nto Emmaus, when they said, 'Did not our hearts burn within us,' &c.; or\nrather like what Paul felt, when he could not tell whether he was in the\nbody, or out of it.\"\n\nHe then mentions his dread of spiritual pride, from whence he earnestly\nprays that God may deliver and preserve him.\n\n\"This,\" says he, \"would have hindered me from communicating these things,\nif I had not such an example before me as the man after God's own heart,\nsaying, 'I will declare what God hath done for my soul;' and elsewhere,\n'The humble shall hear thereof, and be glad.' Now I am well satisfied\nthat your ladyship is of that number.\"\n\nHe then adds:\n\n\"I had no sooner finished this exercise,\" that is of prayer above\nmentioned, \"but I sat down to admire the goodness of my God, that he\nwould vouchsafe to influence by his free Spirit so undeserving a wretch\nas I, and to make me thus to mount up with eagles' wings. And here I was\nlost again, and got into an ocean, where I could find neither bound nor\nbottom; but was obliged to cry out with the apostle, 'O the breadth,\nthe length, the depth, the height of the love of Christ, which passeth\nknowledge!' But if I gave way to this strain I shall never have done.\nThat the God of hope may fill you with all joy and peace in believing,\nthat you may abound in hope through the power of the Holy Ghost, shall\nalways be the prayer of him who is, with the greatest sincerity and\nrespect, your Ladyship's,\" &c.\n\nAnother passage to the same purpose I find in a memorandum, which he\nseems to have written for his own use, dated Monday, March 11, which I\nperceive, from many concurrent circumstances, must have been in the year\n1722-3.\n\n\"This day,\" says he, \"having been to visit Mrs. G. at Hampstead, I came\nhome about two, and read a sermon on these words, Psalm cxxx. 4, 'But\nthere is forgiveness with thee, that thou mayest be feared;' about the\nlatter end of which, there is a description of the miserable condition of\nthose that are slighters of pardoning grace. From a sense of the great\nobligations I lie under to the Almighty God, who hath made me to differ\nfrom such, from what I was, and from the rest of my companions, I knelt\ndown to praise his holy name; and I know not in my lifetime I ever lay\nlower in the dust, never having had a fuller view of my own unworthiness.\nI never pleaded more strongly the merits and intercession of Him who\nI know is worthy--never vowed more sincerely to be the Lord's, and to\naccept of Christ, as he is offered in the gospel, as my King, Priest,\nand Prophet--never had so strong a desire to depart, that I might sin no\nmore; but 'my grace is sufficient,' curbed that desire. I never pleaded\nwith greater fervency for the Comforter, which our blessed Lord hath\npromised shall abide with us for ever. For all which, I desire to ascribe\nglory &c. to Him that sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb.\"\n\nThere are several others of his papers, speaking much the same language,\nwhich, had he kept a diary, would, I doubt not, have filled many sheets.\nI believe my devout readers would not soon be weary of reading extracts\nof this kind; but that I may not exceed in this part of my narrative, I\nshall mention only two more, each of them dated some years after; that\nis, one from Douglas, April 1, 1725; and the other from Stranraer, 25th\nMay following.\n\nThe former of these relates to the frame of his spirit on a journey; on\nthe mention of which, I cannot but recollect how often I have heard him\nsay that some of the most delightful days of his life were days in which\nhe travelled alone, (that is, with only a servant at a distance,) when he\ncould, especially in roads not much frequented, indulge himself in the\npleasures of prayer and praise. In the exercise of this last, he was\ngreatly assisted by several psalms and hymns which he had treasured up in\nhis memory, and which he used not only to repeat aloud, but sometimes to\nsing. In reference to this, I remember the following passage, in a letter\nwhich he wrote to me many years after, when, on mentioning my ever dear\nand honoured friend the Rev. Dr. Watts, he says, \"How often, in singing\nsome of his psalms, hymns, or lyrics, on horseback and elsewhere, has the\nevil spirit been made to flee:\n\n  \"'Whene'er my heart in tune was found,\n   'Like David's harp of solemn sound!'\"\n\nSuch was the first of April above mentioned. In the evening of that day\nhe writes thus to an intimate friend:--\n\n\"What would I have given this day, upon the road, for paper, pen, and\nink, when the Spirit of the Most High rested upon me! Oh for the pen of a\nready writer, and the tongue of an angel, to declare what God hath done\nthis day for my soul! But, in short, it is in vain to attempt it. All\nthat I am able to say, is this, that my soul has been for some hours\njoining with the blessed spirits above in giving glory, and honour, and\npraise unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb, for ever\nand ever. My praises began from a renewed view of Him whom I saw pierced\nfor my transgressions. I summoned the whole hierarchy of heaven to join\nwith me, and I am persuaded they all echoed back praise to the Most High.\nYon, one would have thought the very larks joined me with emulation.\nSure, then, I need not make use of many words to persuade you, that\nare his saints, to join me in blessing and praising his holy name.\" He\nconcludes, \"May the blessing of the God of Jacob rest upon you all!\nAdieu. Written in great haste, late and weary.\"\n\nScarcely can I here refrain from breaking out into more copious\nreflections on the exquisite pleasures of true religion, when risen to\nsuch eminent degrees, which can thus feast the soul in its solitude, and\nrefresh it on journeys, and bring down so much of heaven to earth as this\ndelightful letter expresses. But the remark is so obvious, that I will\nnot enlarge upon it; but proceed to the other letter above mentioned,\nwhich was written the next month, on the Tuesday after a sacrament day.\n\nHe mentions the pleasure with which he had attended a preparation sermon\nthe Saturday before; and then he adds:\n\n\"I took a walk upon the mountains that are over against Ireland; and, I\npersuade myself, that were I capable of giving you a description of what\npassed there, you would agree that I had much better reason to remember\nmy God from the hills of Port Patrick than David from the land of Jordan,\nand of the Hermonites, from the hill of Mizar.\" I suppose he refers to\nthe clearer discoveries of the gospel with which we are favoured. \"In\nshort,\" says he immediately afterwards, in that scripture phrase which\nhad become so familiar to him, \"I wrestled some hours with the Angel of\nthe covenant, and made supplications to him with floods of tears, and\ncries--until I had almost expired; but he strengthened me so, that, like\nJacob, I had power with God, and prevailed. This,\" adds he, \"is but a\nvery faint description; you will be more able to judge of it by what you\nhave felt yourself upon the like occasions. After such preparatory work,\nI need not tell you how blessed the solemn ordinance of the Lord's supper\nproved to me; I hope it was so to many. You may believe I should have\nbeen exceeding glad, if my gracious Lord had ordered it so, that I might\nhave made you a visit, as I proposed; but I am now glad it was ordered\notherwise, since he hath caused so much of his goodness to pass before\nme. Were I to give you an account of the many favours my God hath loaded\nme with, since I parted from you, I must have taken up many days in\nnothing but writing. I hope you will join with me in praises for all the\ngoodness he has shown to your unworthy brother in the Lord.\"\n\nSuch were the ardours and elevation of his soul. But while I record these\nmemorials of them, I am very sensible that there are many who will be\ninclined to censure them as the flights of enthusiasm; for which reason,\nI must beg leave to add a remark or two on the occasion, which will be\nillustrated by several other extracts, which I shall introduce into the\nsequel of these memoirs. The one is, that he never pretends, in any of\nthe passages cited above, or elsewhere, to have received from God any\nimmediate revelations which should raise him above the ordinary methods\nof instruction, or discover any thing to him, whether of doctrines or\nfacts. No man was further from pretending to predict future events,\nexcept from the moral prognostications of causes naturally tending to\nproduce them, in tracing of which he had indeed an admirable sagacity,\nas I have seen in some very remarkable instances. Neither was he at all\ninclinable to govern himself by secret impulses upon his mind, leading\nhim to things for which he could assign no reason but the impulse itself.\nHad he ventured, in a presumption on such secret agitations of mind, to\nteach or to do any thing not warranted by the dictates of sound sense and\nthe word of God, I should readily have acknowledged him an enthusiast,\nunless he could have produced some other evidence than his own persuasion\nto have supported the authority of them. But these ardent expressions,\nwhich some may call enthusiasm, seem only to evince a heart deeply\naffected with a sense of the divine presence and perfections, and of that\nlove which passeth knowledge, especially as manifested in our redemption\nby the Son of God, which did indeed inflame his whole soul. And he\nthought he might reasonably ascribe these strong impressions, to which\nmen are generally such strangers, and of which he had long been entirely\ndestitute, to the agency or influences of the Spirit of God upon his\nheart; and that, in proportion to the degree in which he felt them, he\nmight properly say, God was present with him, and he conversed with\nGod.[*] Now, when we consider the scriptural phrases of \"walking with\nGod,\" of \"having communion with the Father and his Son Jesus Christ,\" of\n\"Christ's coming to them that open the door of their hearts to him, and\nsupping with them,\" of \"God's shedding abroad his love in the heart of\nthe Spirit,\" of \"his coming with Jesus Christ, and making his abode with\nany man that loves him,\" of \"his meeting him that worketh righteousness,\"\nof \"his making us glad by the light of his countenance,\" and a variety\nof other equivalent expressions,--I believe we shall see reason to judge\nmuch more favourably of such expressions as those now in question, than\npersons who, themselves strangers to elevated devotion, perhaps converse\nbut little with their Bible, are inclined to do; especially, if they\nhave, as many such persons have, a temper that inclines them to cavil and\nfind fault. And I must further observe, that amidst all those freedoms\nwith which this eminent Christian opens his devout heart to the most\nintimate of his friends, he still speaks with profound awe and reverence\nof his Heavenly Father and his Saviour, and maintains (after the example\nof the sacred writers themselves,) a kind of dignity in his expressions,\nsuitable to such a subject, without any of that fond familiarity of\nlanguage, and degrading meanness of phrase, by which it is, especially\nof late, grown fashionable among some (who nevertheless I believe mean\nwell,) to express their love and their humility.\n\n[*Note: The ingenious and pious Mr. Grove (who, I think, was as little\nsuspected of running into enthusiastical extremes as most divines I could\nname,) has a noble passage to this purpose in the sixth volume of his\nPosthumous Works, p.10, 11, which, respect to the memory of both these\nexcellent persons, inclines me to insert here,\n\n\"How often are the good thoughts suggested,\" (viz. to the pure in heart)\n\"heavenly affection kindled and inflamed! How often is the Christian\nprompted to holy actions, drawn to his duty, restored, quickened,\npersuaded, in such a manner, that he would be unjust to the Spirit of God\nto question his agency in the whole! Yes, on my soul! there is a Supreme\nBeing, who governs the world, and is present with it, who takes up his\nmore special habitation in good men, and is nigh to all who call upon\nhim, to sanctify and assist them! Hast thou not felt him, oh my soul!\nlike another soul, [Transcriber's note: illegible] thy faculties,\nexalting thy views, purifying thy passions, exalting thy graces, and\nbegetting in thee an abhorrence of sin, and a love of holiness? Is not\nall this an argument of His presence, as truly as if thou didst see.\"]\n\nOn the whole, if habitual love to God, firm faith in the Lord Jesus\nChrist, a steady dependence on the divine promises, a full persuasion of\nthe wisdom and goodness of all the dispensations of Providence, a high\nesteem for the blessings of the heavenly world, and a sincere contempt\nfor the vanities of this, can properly be called enthusiasm, then was\nColonel Gardiner indeed one of the greatest enthusiasts which our age\nhas produced; and in proportion to the degree in which he was so, I must\nesteem him one of the wisest and happiest of mankind. Nor do I fear to\ntell the world that it is the design of my writing these memoirs, and of\nevery thing else that I undertake in life, to spread this glorious and\nblessed enthusiasm, which I know to be the anticipation of heaven, as\nwell as the most certain way to it.\n\nBut lest any should possibly imagine, that allowing the experiences which\nhave been described above to have been ever so solid and important, yet\nthere may be some appearances of boasting in so free a communication of\nthem, I must add to what I have hinted in reference to this above, that\nI find in many of the papers before me very genuine expressions of the\ndeepest humility and self-abasement, which indeed such holy converse with\nGod in prayer and praise does, above all things in the world, tend to\ninspire and promote. Thus, in one of his letters he says, \"I am but as\na beast before him.\" In another he calls himself \"a miserable\nhell-deserving sinner.\" And in another he cries out, \"Oh, how good\na master do I serve! but, alas, how ungrateful am I! What can be so\nastonishing as the love of Christ to us, unless it be the coldness of our\nsinful hearts towards such a Saviour?\" There were many other clauses of\nthe like nature, which I shall not set myself more particularly to trace\nthrough the variety of letters in which they occur.\n\nIt is a further instance of this unfeigned humility, that when (as his\nlady with her usual propriety of language expresses it in one of her\nletters to me concerning him,) \"these divine joys and consolations were\nnot his daily allowance,\" he, with equal freedom, in the confidence of\nChristian fellowship, acknowledges and laments it. Thus, in the first\nletter I had the honour of receiving from him, dated from Leicester, July\n9, 1739, after mentioning the blessing with which it had pleased God to\nattend my last address to him, and the influence it had upon his mind,\nhe adds, \"Much do I stand in need of every help to awaken me out of that\nspiritual deadness which seizes me so often. Once, indeed, it was quite\notherwise with me, and that for many years:\n\n  \"'Firm was my health, my day was bright,\n  And I presumed 't would ne'er be night,\n  Fondly I said within my heart,\n  Pleasure and peace shall ne'er depart,\n  But I forgot, thine arm was strong,\n  Which made my mountain stand so long;\n  Soon as thy face began to hide,\n  My health was gone, my comforts died.'\n\nAnd here,\" adds he, \"lies my sin and my folly.\"\n\nI mention this, that the whole matter may be seen just as it was, and\nthat other Christians may not be discouraged if they feel some abatement\nof that fervour, and of those holy joys which they may have experienced\nduring some of the first months or years of their spiritual life. But,\nwith relation to the colonel, I have great reason to believe that those\nwhich he laments as his days of spiritual deadness were not unanimated;\nand that quickly after the date of this letter, and especially nearer the\nclose of his life, he had further revivings, as the joyful anticipation\nin reserve of those better things which were then nearly approaching. And\nthus Mr. Spears, in the letter I mentioned above, tells us he related\nthe matter to him, (for he studies as much as possible to retain the\ncolonel's own words): \"However,\" says he, \"after that happy period\nof sensible communion, though my joys and enlargements were not so\noverflowing and sensible, yet I have had habitual real communion with\nGod from that day to this\"--the latter end of the year 1743--\"and I know\nmyself, and all that know me see, that through the grace of God, to which\nI ascribe all, my conversation has been becoming the gospel; and let me\ndie whenever it shall please God, or wherever it shall be, I am sure\nI shall go to the mansions of eternal glory,\" &c. This is perfectly\nagreeable to the manner in which he used to speak to me on this head,\nwhich we have talked over frequently and largely.\n\nIn this connection I hope my reader will forgive my inserting a little\nstory which I received from a very worthy minister in Scotland, and which\nI shall give in his own words: \"In this period,\" meaning that which\nfollowed the first seven years after his conversion, \"when his complaint\nof comparative deadness and languor in religion began, he had a dream,\nwhich, though he had no turn at all for taking notice of dreams, yet made\na very strong impression upon his mind. He imagined he saw his blessed\nRedeemer on earth, and that he was following him through a large field,\nfollowing him whom his soul loved, but much troubled, because he thought\nhis blessed Lord did not speak to him, till he came up to the gate of a\nburying-place, when, turning about, he smiled upon him in such a manner\nas filled his soul with the most ravishing joy, and on after reflection\nanimated his faith in believing that whatever storms and darkness he\nmight meet with in the way, at the hour of death his glorious Redeemer\nwould lift up upon him the light of his life-giving countenance.\" My\ncorrespondent adds a circumstance for which he makes some apology,\nas what may seem whimsical, and yet made some impression on the\ncolonel,--\"that there was a remarkable resemblance in the field in which\nthis brave man met his death, and that he had represented to him in the\ndream.\" I did not fully understand this at first; but a passage in that\nletter from Mr. Spears, which I have mentioned more than once, has\ncleared it:\n\n\"Now observe, sir, this seems to be a literal description of the place\nwhere this Christian hero ended his sorrows and conflicts, and from which\nhe entered triumphantly into the joy of his Lord; for, after he fell in\nthe battle, fighting gloriously for his king, and the cause of his God,\nhis wounded body, while life was yet remaining, was carried from the\nfield of battle by the east side of his own enclosure, till he came to\nthe church-yard of Tranent, and was brought to the minister's house,\nwhere, about an hour after, he breathed out his soul into the hands of\nhis Lord, and was conducted to his presence, where there is fulness of\njoy, without any cloud or interruption, for ever.\"\n\nI well know that in dreams there are diverse vanities, and readily\nacknowledge that nothing certain could be inferred from this; yet it\nseems at least to show which way the imagination was working even in\nsleep; and I cannot think it unworthy of a wise and good man sometimes\nto reflect with complacency on any images which, passing through his mind\neven in that state, may tend either to express or to quicken his love\nto the great Saviour. Those eminently pious divines of the Church of\nEngland, Bishop Bull and Bishop Konn, do both intimate it as their\nopinion that it may be a part of the service of ministering angels to\nsuggest devout dreams[1] and I know that the worthy person of whom I\nspeak was well acquainted with that evening hymn of the latter of those\nexcellent writers which has these lines:\n\n  \"Lord lest the tempter me surprise,\n  Watch over thine own sacrifice!\n  All loose, all idle thoughts cast out;\n  And make my very _dreams_ devout!\"\n\nNor would it be difficult to produce other passages much to the same\npurpose,[2] if it would not be deemed too great a digression from our\nsubject, and too laboured a vindication of a little incident of very\nsmall importance when compared with most of those which make up this\nnarrative.[3]\n\n[Footnote 1: Bishop Bull has these remarkable words: \"Although I am no\ndoater on dreams, yet I verily believe that some dreams are monitory,\nabove the power of fancy, and impressed upon us by some superior\nintelligence. For of such dreams we have plain and undeniable instances\nin history, both sacred and profane, and in our own age and observation.\nNor shall I so value the laughter of sceptics, and the scoffs of\nepicureans, as to be ashamed to profess that I myself have had some\nconvincing experiments of such impressions.\" _Bishop Bull's Sermons and\nDiscourses_, Vol. II, pp. 489, 490.]\n\n[Footnote 2: If I mistake not, the same Bishop Konn is the author of a\n_midnight hymn_ coinciding with these words:\n\n  \"May my ethereal Guardian kindly spread\n  His wings, and from the tempter screen my head;\n  Grant of celestial light some passing beams,\n  To bless my sleep, and sanctify my dreams!\"\n\nAs he certainly was of these exactly parallel lines:\n\n  \"Oh may my Guardian, while I sleep,\n  Close to my bed his vigils keep;\n  His love angelical distil,\n  Stop all the avenues of ill!\n  May he celestial joys rehearse,\n  And thought to thought with me converse!\"]\n\n[Footnote 3: See Appendix I.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nDOMESTIC RELATIONS.\n\n\nI meet not with any other remarkable event relating to Major Gardiner,\nwhich can properly be introduced here, till 1726, when, on the 11th of\nJuly, he was married to the Right Hon. Lady Frances Erskine, daughter to\nthe late Earl of Buchan, by whom he had thirteen children, five only of\nwhich survived their father, two sons and three daughters, whom I cannot\nmention without the most fervent prayers to God for them, that they may\nalways behave worthy the honour of being descended from such parents,\nand that the God of their father and of their mother may make them\nperpetually the care of his providence, and yet more eminently happy in\nthe constant and abundant influences of his grace.\n\nAs her ladyship is still living,[*] (and for the sake of\nher dear offspring, and numerous friends, may she long be spared,) I\nshall not here indulge myself in saying any thing of her, except it be\nthat the colonel assured me, when he had been happy in this intimate\nrelation to her more than fourteen years, that the greatest imperfection\nhe knew in her character was, \"that she valued and loved him much more\nthan he deserved.\" Little did he think, in the simplicity of heart with\nwhich he spoke this, how high an encomium he was making upon her, and how\nlasting an honour such a testimony must leave upon her name, long as the\nmemory of it shall continue.\n\n[*Note: In the year 1746]\n\nAs I do not intend in these memoirs a laboured essay on the character of\nColonel Gardiner, digested under the various virtues and graces which\nChristianity requires, (which would, I think, be a little too formal for\na work of this kind, and would give it such an air of panegyric as would\nneither suit my design, nor be at all likely to render it more useful,) I\nshall now mention what I have either observed in him, or heard concerning\nhim, with regard to those domestic relations which commenced about this\ntime, or very soon after. And here my reader will easily conclude that\nthe resolution of Joshua was from the first adopted and declared, \"As for\nme and my house, we will serve the Lord.\" It will naturally be supposed,\nthat as soon as he had a house, he erected an altar in it; that the word\nof God was read there, and prayers and praises were constantly offered.\nThese were not to be omitted on account of any guest; for he esteemed it\na part of due respect to those that remained under his roof to take it\nfor granted they would look upon it as a very bad compliment to imagine\nthey would have been obliged by neglecting the duties of religion on\ntheir account. As his family increased, he had a minister statedly\nresident in his house, who discharged both the office of a tutor to his\nchildren, and of a chaplain, and who was always treated with a becoming\nkindness and respect. But, in his absence, the colonel himself led the\ndevotions of the family; and they were happy who had an opportunity of\nknowing with how much solemnity, fervour, and propriety he did it. He was\nconstant in attendance upon public worship, in which an exemplary care\nwas taken that the children and servants might accompany the heads of the\nfamily. And how he would have resented the non-attendance of any member\nof it may easily be conjectured from a free but lively passage in a\nletter to one of his intimate friends, on an occasion which it is not\nmaterial to mention. \"Oh, sir, had a child of yours under my roof but\nonce neglected the public worship of God when he was able to attend it,\nI should have been ready to conclude he had been distracted, and should\nhave thought of shaving his head, and confining him in a dark room.\"\n\nHe always treated his lady with a manly tenderness, giving her the most\nnatural evidences of a cordial, habitual esteem, and expressing a most\naffectionate sympathy with her under the infirmities of a very delicate\nconstitution, much broken, at least towards the latter years of their\nmarriage. He had at all times a most faithful care of all her interests,\nand especially those relating to the state of religion in her mind. His\nconversation and his letters concurred to cherish those sublime ideas\nwhich Christianity suggests, to promote our submission to the will of\nGod, to teach us to centre our happiness in the great Author of our\nbeing, and to live by faith in the invisible world. These, no doubt, were\nfrequently the subjects of mutual discourse; and many letters, which her\nladyship has had the goodness to communicate to me, are most convincing\nevidences of the degree in which this noble and most friendly care filled\nhis mind in the days of their separation--days which so entire a mutual\naffection must have rendered exceedingly painful, had they not been\nsupported by such exalted sentiments of piety, and sweetened by daily\ncommunion with an ever-present and ever-gracious God.\n\nThe necessity of being so many months together distant from his family\nhindered him from many of those condescending labours in cultivating the\nminds of his children in early life, which, to a soul so benevolent, so\nwise, and so zealous, would undoubtedly have afforded a very exquisite\npleasure. The care of his worthy consort, who well knew that it is one\nof the brightest parts of a mother's character, and one of the most\nimportant views in which the sex can be considered, made him the easier\nunder such a circumstance; but when he was with them, he failed not to\ninstruct and admonish them; and the constant deep sense with which he\nspoke of divine things, and the real unaffected indifference which he\nalways showed for what this vain world is most ready to admire, were\nexcellent lessons of daily wisdom, which I hope they will recollect with\nadvantage in every future scene of life. And I have seen such hints in\nhis letters relating to them, as plainly show with how great a weight\nthey lay on his mind, and how highly he desired, above all things, that\nthey might be the faithful disciples of Christ, and acquainted betimes\nwith the unequalled pleasures and blessings of religion. He thought an\nexcess of delicacy and of indulgence one of the most dangerous faults\nin education, by which he everywhere saw great numbers of young people\nundone; yet he was solicitous to guard against a severity which might\nterrify or discourage; and though he endeavoured to take all prudent\nprecautions to prevent the commission of faults, yet, when they had been\ncommitted, and there seemed to be a sense of them, he was always ready\nto make the most candid allowances for the thoughtlessness of unripened\nyears, and tenderly to cherish every purpose of a more proper conduct for\nthe time to come.\n\nIt was to perceive that the openings of genius in the young branches of\nhis family gave him great delight, and that he had a secret ambition to\nsee them excel in what they undertook. Yet he was greatly cautious over\nhis heart, lest it should be too fondly attached to them; and as he was\none of the most eminent proficients I ever knew in the blessed science\nof resignation to the divine will, so there was no effect of that\nresignation which appeared to me more admirable than what related to the\nlife of his children. An experience, which no length of time will ever\nefface out of my memory, has so sensibly taught me how difficult it is\nfully to support the Christian character here, that I hope my reader will\npardon me (I am sure, at least, the heart of wounded parents will,) if I\ndwell a little longer upon so interesting a subject.[*]\n\n[*Note: See Appendix II.]\n\nWhen he was in Herefordshire in July, 1734, it pleased God to visit his\nlittle family with the small pox. Five days before the date of the letter\nI am just going to mention, he had received the agreeable news that\nthere was a prospect of the recovery of his son, then under that awful\nvisitation; and he had been expressing his thankfulness for it in a\nletter which he had sent away but a few hours before he was informed of\nhis death, the surprise of which, in this connection, must naturally be\nvery great. But behold (says the reverend and worthy person from whom\nI received the copy) his truly filial submission to the will of his\nHeavenly Father, in the following lines addressed to the dear partner\nof his affliction: \"Your resignation to the will of God under this\ndispensation gives me more joy than the death of the child has given me\nsorrow. He, to be sure, is happy; and we shall go to him, though he shall\nnot return to us. Oh that we had our latter end always in view! We shall\nsoon follow; and oh, what reason have we to long for that glorious day\nwhen we shall get quit of this body of sin and death under which we now\ngroan, and which renders this life so wretched! I desire to bless God\nthat ---- (another of his children) is in so good a way; but I have\nresigned her. We must not choose for ourselves; and it is well we must\nnot, for we should often make a very bad choice, and therefore it is our\nwisdom, as well as our duty, to leave all with a gracious God, who hath\npromised that all things shall work together for good to them that love\nhim; and he is faithful that hath promised, who will infallibly perform\nit, if our unbelief does not stand in the way.\"\n\nThe greatest trial of this kind that he ever bore, was in the removal of\nhis second son, who was one of the most amiable and promising children\nthat has been known. The dear little creature was the darling of all that\nknew him; and promised very fair, so far as a child could be known by its\ndoings, to have been a great ornament to the family, and blessing to the\npublic. The suddenness of the stroke must, no doubt, render it the more\npainful; for this beloved child was snatched away by an illness which\nseized him but about fifteen hours before it carried him off. He died\nin the month of October 1733, at near six years old. Their friends were\nready to fear that his affectionate parents would be almost overwhelmed\nat such a loss; but the happy father had so firm a persuasion that God\nhad received the dear little one to the felicities of the celestial\nworld, and at the same time had so strong a sense of the divine goodness\nin taking one of his children, and that, too, one who lay so near his\nheart, so early to himself, that the sorrows of nature were quite\nswallowed up in the sublime joy which these considerations administered.\nWhen he reflected what human life is--how many its snares and temptations\nare--and how frequently children who once promised very well are\ninsensibly corrupted, and at length undone, with Solomon he blessed the\ndead already dead, more than the living who were yet alive, and felt\nunspeakable pleasure in looking after the lovely infant, as safely and\ndelightfully lodged in the house of its Heavenly Father. Yea, he assured\nme that his heart was at this time so entirely taken up with these views,\nthat he was afraid they who did not thoroughly know him might suspect\nthat he was deficient in the natural affections of a parent, while thus\nborne above the anguish of them by the views which faith administered to\nhim, and which divine grace supported in his soul.\n\nSo much did he, on one of the most trying occasions of life, manifest of\nthe temper of a glorified saint, and to such happy purposes did he retain\nthose lessons of submission to God, and acquiescence in him, which I\nremember he once inculcated in a letter he wrote to a lady of quality\nunder the apprehension of a breach in her family with which Providence\nseemed to threaten her, which I am willing to insert here, though a\nlittle out of what might seem its most proper place rather than entirely\nto omit it. It is dated from London, June 16, 1722, when, speaking of the\ndangerous illness of a dear relative, he has these words: \"When my mind\nruns hither,\" that is, to God, as its refuge and strong defence, (as the\nconnection plainly determines it,) \"I think I can bear any thing, the\nloss of all, the loss of health, of relations, on whom I depend, and whom\nI love, all that is dear to me, without repining or murmuring. When I\nthink that God orders, disposes, and manages all things according to the\ncounsel of his own will; when I think of the extent of his providence,\nthat it reaches to the minutest things; then, though a useful friend or\ndear relative be snatched away by death, I recall myself, and check my\nthoughts with these considerations: Is he not God from everlasting, and\nto everlasting? And has he not promised to be a God to me?--a God in all\nhis attributes, a God in all his persons, a God in all his creatures and\nprovidences? And shall I dare to say, What shall I do? Was not he the\ninfinite cause of all I met with in the creatures? And were not they\nthe finite effects of his infinite love and kindness? I have daily\nexperienced that the instrument was, and is, what God makes it to be; and\nI know that this 'God hath the hearts of all men in his hands, and the\nearth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof.' If this earth be good for\nme, I shall have it; for my Father hath it all in possession. If favour\nin the eyes of men be good for me, I shall have it; for the spring of\nevery motion in the heart of man is in God's hand. My dear ---- seems now\nto be dying; but God is all-wise, and every thing is done by him for the\nbest. Shall I hold back any thing that is his own, when he requires\nit? No, God forbid! When I consider the excellency of his glorious\nattributes, I am satisfied with all his dealings.\" I perceive by the\nintroduction, and by what follows, that most, if not all of this, is\na quotation from something written by a lady; but whether from some\nmanuscript or printed book, whether exactly transcribed or quoted from\nmemory, I cannot determine; and therefore I thought proper to insert it,\nas the major (for that was the office he bore then,) by thus interweaving\nit with his letter, makes it his own, and as it seems to express in a\nvery lively manner the principles which bore him on to a conduct so truly\ngreat and heroic, in circumstances that have overwhelmed many a heart\nthat could have faced danger and death with the greatest intrepidity.\n\nI return now to consider his character in the domestic relation of a\nmaster, on which I shall not enlarge. It is, however, proper to remark,\nthat as his habitual meekness and command of his passions prevented\nindecent sallies of ungoverned anger towards those in the lowest state\nof subjection to him, by which some in high life do strangely debase\nthemselves, and lose much of their authority, so the natural greatness of\nhis mind made him solicitous to render their inferior stations as easy as\nhe could: and so much the rather, because he considered all the children\nof Adam as standing upon a level before their great Creator, and had\nalso a deeper sense of the dignity and worth of every immortal soul, how\nmeanly soever it might chance to be lodged, than most persons I have\nknown. This engaged him to give his servants frequent religious\nexhortations and instructions, as I have been assured by several who\nwere so happy as to live with him under that character. One of his first\nletters, after he entered on his Christian course, expresses the same\ndisposition; in which, with great tenderness, he recommends a servant,\nwho was in a bad state of health, to his mother's care, as he was well\nacquainted with her condescending temper; mentioning at the same time,\nthe endeavours he had used to promote his preparations for a better\nworld, under an apprehension that he would not continue long in this.\nWe shall have an affecting instance of the prevalence of the same\ndisposition in the closing scene of his life, and indeed in the last\nwords he ever spoke, which expressed his generous solicitude for the\nsafety of a faithful servant who was then near him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nCONDUCT AS AN OFFICER.\n\n\nAs it was a few years after his marriage that he was promoted to the rank\nof lieutenant-colonel, in which he continued till he had a regiment of\nhis own, I shall, for the future, speak of him by that title; and I may\nnot, perhaps, find any more proper place in which to mention what it is\nproper for me to say of his behaviour and conduct as an officer. I shall\nnot here enlarge upon his bravery in the field, though, as I have heard\nfrom others, that was very remarkable--I say from others, for I never\nheard any thing of the kind from himself, nor knew, till after his death,\nthat he was present at almost every battle that was fought in Flanders\nwhile the illustrious Duke of Marlborough commanded the allied army\nthere. I have also been assured from several very credible persons, some\nof whom were eye-witnesses, that at the skirmish with the rebels at\nPreston in Lancashire, (thirty years before that engagement at the other\nPreston which deprived us of this gallant guardian of his country,) he\nsignalized himself very particularly; for he headed a small body of men,\nI think about twelve, and set fire to the barricado of the rebels, in the\nface of their whole army, while they were pouring in their shot, by which\neight of the twelve that attended him fell. This was the last action of\nthe kind in which he was engaged before the long peace which ensued; and\nwho can express how happy it was for him, and indeed for his country,\nof which he was ever so mindful, and in his latter years so important a\nfriend, that he did not then fall, when the profaneness which mingled\nitself with this martial rage seemed to rend the heavens, and shocked\nsome other military gentlemen who were not very remarkable for their\ncaution in this respect.\n\nBut I insist not on things of this nature, which the true greatness of\nhis soul would hardly ever permit him to mention, unless when it tended\nto illustrate the divine care over him in these extremities of danger,\nand the grace of God in calling him from so abandoned a state. It is well\nknown that the character of an officer is not to be approved in the\nday of combat only. Colonel Gardiner was truly sensible that every day\nbrought its duties along with it, and he was constantly careful that no\npretence of amusement, friendship, or even devotion itself, might prevent\ntheir being properly discharged.\n\nI doubt not that the noble persons in whose regiments he was\nlieutenant-colonel, will always be ready to bear an honourable and\ngrateful testimony to his exemplary diligence and fidelity in all that\nrelated to the care of the troops over which he was set, whether in\nregard to the men or the horses. He knew that it is incumbent on\nthose who have the honour of presiding over others, whether in civil,\necclesiastical, or military offices, not to content themselves with doing\nonly so much as may preserve them from the reproach of gross and visible\nneglect; but seriously to consider how much they can possibly do without\ngoing out of their proper sphere, to serve the public, by the due\ninspection of those committed to their care. The duties of the closet and\nof the sanctuary were so adjusted as not to interfere with those of the\nparade, or any other place where the welfare of the regiment called\nhim. On the other hand, he was solicitous not to suffer these things to\ninterfere with religion, a due attendance on which he apprehended to\nbe the surest method of attaining all desirable success in every other\ninterest and concern in life. He therefore abhorred every thing that\nlooked like a contrivance to keep his soldiers employed with their horses\nand their arms at the seasons of public worship--an indecency which I\nwish there were no room to mention. Far from that, he used to have them\ndrawn up just before it began, and from the parade they went off to the\nhouse of God. He understood the rights of conscience too well to impose\nhis own particular profession in religion on others, or to treat those\nwho differed from him in the choice of its modes, the less kindly or\nrespectfully on that account. But as most of his own company, and many of\nthe rest, chose (when in England) to attend him to the dissenting chapel,\nhe used to march them up thither in due time, so as to be there before\nthe worship began. And I must do them the justice to say, that so far as\nI could ever discern, when I have seen them in large numbers before me,\nthey behaved with as much reverence, gravity, and decorum, during the\ntime of divine service, as any of the worshippers.\n\nThat his remarkable care to maintain good discipline among them (of which\nwe shall afterwards speak) might be the more effectual, he made himself\non all proper occasions accessible to them, and expressed a great\nconcern for their interests, which, being genuine and sincere, naturally\ndiscovered itself in a variety of instances. I remember I had once\noccasion to visit one of his dragoons in his last illness at Harborough,\nand I found the man upon the borders of eternity--a circumstance which,\nas he apprehended himself, must add some peculiar weight and credibility\nto his discourse. He then told me, in his colonel's absence, that he\nquestioned not that he should have everlasting reason to bless God on\nColonel Gardiner's account, for he had been a father to him in all his\ninterests, both temporal and spiritual. He added, that he had visited\nhim, almost every day during his illness, with religious advice and\ninstruction, and had also taken care that he should want for nothing that\nmight conduct to the recovery of his health. He did not speak of this\nas the result of any particular attachment to him, but as the manner in\nwhich he was accustomed to treat those under his command. It is no wonder\nthat this engaged their affection to a very great degree; and I doubt not\nthat if he had fought the fatal battle of Prestonpans at the head of that\ngallant regiment of which he had the care for so many years, and which\nis allowed by most unexceptionable judges to be one of the finest in the\nBritish service, and consequently in the world, he had been supported in\na much different manner, and had found a much greater number who would\nhave rejoiced in an opportunity of making their own breasts a barrier in\nthe defence of his.\n\nIt could not but greatly endear him to his soldiers, that so far as\npreferments lay in his power, or were under his influence, they were\ndistributed according to merit. This he knew to be as much the dictate of\nprudence as equity. I find from one of his letters before me, dated but\na few months after his conversion, that he was solicited to use his\ninterest with the Earl of Stair in favour of one whom he judged a very\nworthy person; and that it had been suggested by another, who\nrecommended him, that if he so succeeded, he might expect some handsome\nacknowledgment. But he answers with some degree of indignation, \"Do you\nimagine I am to be bribed to do justice?\" For such it seems he esteemed\nit, to confer the favour which was asked from him on one so deserving.\nNothing can more effectually tend to humble the enemies of a state, than\nthat such maxims should universally prevail in it; and if they do not\nprevail, the worthiest men in an army or a fleet may sink under repeated\ndiscouragements, and the basest exalted, to the infamy of the public, and\nperhaps to its ruin.\n\nIn the midst of all the gentleness which Colonel Gardiner exercised\ntowards his soldiers, he made it very apparent that he knew how to\nreconcile the tenderness of a really faithful and condescending friend\nwith the authority of a commander. Perhaps hardly any thing conduced more\ngenerally to the maintaining of this authority, than the strict decorum\nand good manners with which he treated even the private gentlemen of his\nregiment; which has always a great efficacy in keeping inferiors at\na proper distance, and forbids, in the least offensive manner,\nfamiliarities which degrade the superior, and enervate his influence. The\ncalmness and steadiness of his behaviour on all occasions also greatly\ntended to the same purpose. He knew how mean a man looks in the\ntransports of passion, and would not use so much freedom with many of\nhis men as to fall into such transports before them, well knowing that\npersons in the lowest rank of life are aware how unfit _they_ are to\ngovern others, who cannot govern themselves. He was also sensible how\nnecessary it is in all who preside over others, and especially in\nmilitary officers, to check irregularities when they first begin to\nappear; and, that he might be able to do so, he kept a strict inspection\nover his soldiers; in which it was observed, that as he generally chose\nto reside among them as much as he could, (though in circumstances which\nsometimes occasioned him to deny himself in some interests which were\nvery dear to him,) so, when they were around him, he seldom staid long in\na place; but was frequently walking the streets, and looking into their\nquarters and stables, as well as reviewing and exercising them himself.\nIt has often been observed that the regiment to which he was so many\nyears lieutenant-colonel, was one of the most regular and orderly\nregiments in the public service, so that perhaps none of our dragoons\nwere more welcome to the towns where their character was known. Yet no\nsuch bodies of men are so blameless in their conduct but something will\nbe found, especially among such considerable numbers, worthy of censure,\nand sometimes of punishment. This Colonel Gardiner knew how to inflict\nwith a becoming resolution, and with all the severity which he judged\nnecessary--a severity the more awful and impressive, as it was already\nattended with meekness; for he well knew that when things are done in a\npassion, it seems only an accidental circumstance that they are acts\nof justice, and that such indecencies greatly obstruct the ends of\npunishment, both as to reforming offenders, and to deterring others from\nan imitation of their faults.\n\nOne instance of his conduct, which happened at Leicester, and which was\nrelated by the person chiefly concerned to a worthy friend from whom\nI had it, I cannot forbear inserting. While part of the regiment was\nencamped in the neighbourhood of that place, the colonel went incognito\nto the camp in the middle of the night; for he sometimes lodged at his\nquarters in the town. One of the sentinels then on duty had abandoned\nhis post, and, on being seized, broke out into some oaths and profane\nexecrations against those that discovered him--a crime of which the\ncolonel had the greatest abhorrence, and on which he never failed to\nanimadvert. The man afterwards appeared much ashamed and concerned for\nwhat he had done. But the colonel ordered him to be brought early the\nnext morning to his own quarters, where he had prepared a picket, on\nwhich he appointed him a private sort of penance; and while he was put\nupon it, he discoursed with him seriously and tenderly upon the evils and\naggravations of his fault, admonished him of the divine displeasure which\nhe had incurred, and urged him to argue, from the pain which he then\nfelt, how infinitely more dreadful it must be to \"fall into the hands of\nthe living God,\" and, indeed, to meet the terrors of that damnation\nwhich he had been accustomed impiously to call for on himself and his\ncompanions. The result of this proceeding was, that the offender accepted\nhis punishment, not only with submission, but with thankfulness. He went\naway with a more cordial affection for his colonel than he ever had\nbefore, and spoke of the circumstance some years after to my friend, in\nsuch a manner that there seemed reason to hope it had been instrumental\nin producing a change not only in his life, but in his heart.\n\nThere cannot, I think, be a more proper place for mentioning the great\nreverence this excellent officer always expressed for the name of the\nblessed God, and the zeal with which he endeavoured to suppress, and if\npossible to extirpate, that detestable sin of swearing and cursing which\nis every where so common, and especially among our military men. He often\ndeclared, at the head of his regiment, his sentiments with respect to\nthis enormity, and urged his captains and their subalterns to take the\ngreatest care that they did not give the sanction of their example to\nthat which by their office they were obliged to punish in others. Indeed\nhis zeal on these occasions wrought in a very active, and sometimes in a\nremarkably successful manner, not only among his equals, but sometimes\namong his superiors too. An instance of this in Flanders I shall have an\nopportunity hereafter to produce; at present I shall only mention his\nconduct in Scotland a little before his death, as I have it from a\nvery valuable young minister of that country, on whose testimony I can\nthoroughly depend; and I wish it may excite many to imitation.\n\n'The commanding officer of the king's forces then about Edinburgh,\nwith the other colonels, and several other gentlemen of rank in their\nrespective regiments, favoured him with their company at Bankton, and\ntook dinner with him. He too well foresaw what might happen amid such a\nvariety of tempers and characters; and fearing lest his conscience might\nhave been ensnared by a sinful silence, or that, on the other hand, he\nmight seem to pass the bounds of decency, and infringe upon the laws of\nhospitality by animadverting on guests so justly entitled to his regard,\nhe happily determined on the following method of avoiding each of these\ndifficulties. As soon as they were come together, he addressed them with\na great deal of respect, and at the same time with a very frank and\ndetermined air, telling them that he had the honour in that district to\nbe a justice of the peace, and consequently that he was sworn to put the\nlaw in execution, and, among the rest, those against swearing; that he\ncould not execute them upon others with any confidence, or by any means\napprove himself a man of impartiality and integrity to his own heart,\nif he suffered them to be broken in his presence by persons of any rank\nwhatsoever; and that therefore he entreated all the gentlemen who then\nhonoured him with their company that they would please to be upon their\nguard, and that if any oath or curse should escape them, he hoped they\nwould consider his legal animadversion upon it as a regard to the duties\nof his office and the dictates of his conscience, and not as owing to any\nwant of deference to them.\n\nThe commanding officer immediately supported him in this declaration, as\nentirely becoming the station in which he was, assuring him that he would\nbe ready to pay the penalty, if he inadvertently transgressed; and when\nColonel Gardiner on any occasion stepped out of the room, he himself\nundertook to be the guardian of the law in his absence; and as one of the\ninferior officers offended during this time, he informed the colonel, so\nthat the fine was exacted and given to the poor,[*] with the universal\napprobation of the company. The story spread in the neighbourhood, and\nwas perhaps applauded highly by many who wanted the courage to \"go and do\nlikewise.\" But it may be said, with the utmost propriety, of the worthy\nperson of whom I write, that he feared the face of no man living where\nthe honour of God was concerned. In all such cases he might be justly\nsaid, in Scripture phrase, \"to set his face like a flint;\" and I\nassuredly believe, that had he been in the presence of a sovereign\nprince who had been guilty of this fault, his looks at least would have\ntestified his grief and surprise, if he had apprehended it unfit to have\nborne his testimony in any other way.\n\n[*Note: It is observable that the money which was forfeited on this\naccount by his own officers, whom he never spared, or by any others of\nhis soldiers who rather chose to pay than submit to corporal punishment,\nwas, by the colonel's order, laid by in a bank till some of the private\nmen fell sick, and then it was laid out in providing them with proper\nhelp and accommodations in their distress.]\n\nLord Cadogan's regiment of dragoons, during the time he was\nlieutenant-colonel of it, was quartered in a variety of places, both\nin England and Scotland, from many of which I have letters before\nme; particularly from Hamilton, Ayr, Carlisle, Hereford, Maidenhead,\nLeicester, Warwick, Coventry, Stamford, Harborough, Northampton, and\nseveral other places, especially in our inland parts. The natural\nconsequence was, that the colonel, whose character was on many accounts\nso very remarkable, had a very extensive acquaintance; and I believe I\nmay certainly say, that wherever he was known by persons of wisdom and\nworth, he was proportionably respected, and left behind him traces of\nunaffected devotion, humility, benevolence, and zeal for the support and\nadvancement of religion and virtue.\n\nThe equable tenor of his mind in these respects is illustrated by his\nletters from several of these places; and though I have but comparatively\na small number of them now in my hands, yet they will afford some\nvaluable extracts; which I shall therefore here lay before my reader,\nthat he may the better judge as to the colonel's real character in\nparticulars which I have already mentioned, or which may hereafter occur.\n\nIn a letter to his lady, dated from Carlisle, November 19, 1738, when\nhe was on his journey to Herefordshire, he breathes out his grateful,\ncheerful soul in these words:\n\n\"I bless God I was never better in my lifetime, and I wish I could be so\nhappy as to hear the same of you: or rather, in other words, to hear that\nyou have obtained an entire trust in God. That would infallibly keep you\nin perfect peace, for the God of truth has promised it. Oh, how ought we\nto be longing 'to be with Christ,' which is infinitely better than any\nthing we can propose here! to be there, where no mountains shall separate\nbetween God and our souls. And I hope it will be some addition to our\nhappiness, that, you and I shall be separated no more; but that as we\nhave joined in singing the praises of our glorious Redeemer here, we\nshall sing them in a much higher key through an endless eternity. Oh\neternity, eternity! What a wonderful thought, is eternity!\"\n\nFrom Leicester, August 6, 1739, he writes thus to his lady:\n\n\"Yesterday I was at the Lord's table, where you and the children were not\nforgotten. But how wonderfully was I assisted when I came home, to plead\nfor you all with many tears.\" And then, speaking of some intimate friends\nwho were impatient, (as I suppose by the connection) for his return to\nthem, he takes occasion to observe the necessity of endeavouring to\ncompose our minds, and say with the Psalmist, \"My soul, wait thou only\nupon God.\" Afterwards, speaking of one of his children, who he heard had\nmade a commendable progress in learning, he expresses his satisfaction,\nand adds; \"But, how much greater joy would it give me to hear that he was\ngreatly advanced in the school of Christ! Oh that our children may but be\nwise unto salvation, and may grow in grace as they do in stature!\"\n\nThese letters, which to so familiar a friend evidently lay open the\nheart, and show the ideas and affections which were lodged deepest there,\nare sometimes taken up with an account of sermons he had attended, and\nthe impression they had made upon his mind. I shall mention only one,\nas a specimen of many more, which was dated from a place called Cohorn,\nApril 15:\n\n\"We had here a minister from Wales, who gave us two excellent discourses\non the love of Christ to us, as an argument to engage our love to him.\nAnd indeed, next to the greatness of his love to us, methinks there is\nnothing so astonishing as the coldness of our love to him. Oh that he\nwould shed abroad his love upon our hearts by his Holy Spirit, that ours\nmight be kindled into a flame! May God enable you to trust in Him, and\nthen you will be kept in perfect peace!\"\n\nWe have met with many traces of that habitual gratitude to the blessed\nGod, as his Heavenly Father and constant friend, which made his life\nprobably one of the happiest that ever was spent on earth. I cannot omit\none more, which appears to me the more worthy of notice, as being a short\nturn in as hasty a letter as any I remember to have seen of his, which he\nwrote from Leicester in June, 1739. \"I am now under the deepest sense of\nthe many favours the Almighty has bestowed upon me. Surely you will help\nme to celebrate the praises of our gracious God and kind benefactor.\"\nThis exuberance of grateful affection, which, while it was almost every\nhour pouring itself forth before God in the most genuine and emphatical\nlanguage, felt itself still as it were straitened for want of a\nsufficient vent, and therefore called on others to help him with their\nconcurrent praises, appears to me the most glorious and happy state in\nwhich a human soul can find itself on this side heaven.\n\nSuch was the temper which this excellent man appears to have carried\nalong with him through such a variety of places and circumstances; and\nthe whole of his deportment was suitable to these impressions. Strangers\nwere agreeably struck with his first appearance, there being much of the\nChristian, the well-bred man, and the universal friend in it; and as\nthey came more intimately to know him, they discovered more and more the\nuniformity and consistency of his whole temper and behaviour; so that\nwhether he made only a visit for a few days to any place, or continued\nthere for many weeks or months, he was always beloved and esteemed,\nand spoken of with that honourable testimony, from persons of the most\ndifferent denominations and parties, which nothing but true sterling\nworth, (if I may be allowed the expression,) and that in an eminent\ndegree, can secure.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nINTIMACY WITH THE AUTHOR.\n\n\nOf the justice of this testimony, which I had so often heard from a\nvariety of persons, I myself began to be a witness about the time when\nthe last mentioned letter was dated. In this view, I believe I shall\nnever forget that happy day, June 18, 1739, when I first met him at\nLeicester. I remember I happened that day to preach a lecture from Psalm\ncxix, 158, \"I beheld the transgressions, and was grieved because they\nkept not thy law.\" I was large in describing that mixture of indignation\nand grief (strongly expressed by the original words there) with which\na good man looks on the daring transgressors of the divine law; and in\ntracing the causes of that grief, as arising from a regard to the divine\nhonour, and the interest of a Redeemer, and a compassionate concern for\nthe misery which such offenders bring on themselves, and for the mischief\nthey do to the world about them, I little thought, how exactly I was\ndrawing Colonel Gardiner's character under each of those heads; and I\nhave often reflected upon it as a happy providence which opened a much\nspeedier way than I could have expected to the breast of one of the most\namiable and useful friends whom I ever expect to find upon earth. We\nafterwards sang a hymn which brought over again some of the leading\nthoughts in the sermon and struck him so strongly, that on obtaining a\ncopy of it, he committed it to memory, and used to repeat it, with so\nforcible an accent as showed how much every line expressed his very soul.\nIn this view the reader will pardon my inserting it, especially as I\nknow not when I may get time to publish a volume of these serious though\nartless compositions, which I sent him in manuscript some years ago, and\nto which I have since made very large additions:\n\n  Arise, my tenderest thoughts arise,\n  To torrents melt my streaming eyes!\n  And thou, my heart, with anguish feel\n  Those evils which thou canst not heal!\n\n  See human nature sunk in shame!\n  See scandal poured on Jesus' name!\n  The Father wounded through the Son!\n  The world abused--the soul undone!\n\n  See the short course of vain delight\n  Closing in everlasting night!\n  In flames that no abatement know,\n  The briny tears for ever flow.\n\n  My God, I feel the mournful scene;\n  My bowels yearn o'er dying men:\n  And fain my pity would reclaim,\n  And snatch the firebrands from the flame.\n\n  But feeble my compassion proves,\n  And can but weep where most it loves;\n  Thine own all-saving arm employ,\n  And turn these drops of grief to joy!\n\nThe colonel, immediately after the conclusion of the service, met me in\nthe vestry and embraced me in the most obliging and affectionate manner,\nas if there had been a long friendship between us, assured me that he had\nfor some years been intimately acquainted with my writings, and desired\nthat we might concert measures for spending some hours together before I\nleft the town. I was so happy as to be able to secure an opportunity of\ndoing it; and I must leave upon record, that I cannot recollect I was\never equally edified by any conversation I remember to have enjoyed. We\npassed that evening and the next morning together, and it is impossible\nfor me to describe the impression which the interview left upon my heart.\nI rode alone all the remainder of the day; and it was my unspeakable\nhappiness that I was alone, since I could no longer be with him; for\nI can hardly conceive what other company would not then have been an\nencumbrance. The views which he gave me even then, (for he began to\nrepose a most obliging confidence in me, though he concealed some of the\nmost extraordinary circumstances of the methods by which he had been\nrecovered to God and happiness,) with those cordial sentiments of\nevangelical piety and extensive goodness which he poured out into my\nbosom with so endearing a freedom, fired my very soul; and I hope I may\ntruly say (which I wish and pray that many of my readers may also\nadopt for themselves) that I glorified God in him. Our epistolatory\ncorrespondence immediately commenced upon my return; and though,\nthrough the multiplicity of business on both sides, it suffered many\ninterruptions, it was in some degree the blessing of all the following\nyears of my life, till he fell by those unreasonable and wicked men who\nhad it in their hearts with him to have destroyed all our glory, defence,\nand happiness.\n\nThe first letter I received from him was so remarkable, that some persons\nof eminent piety, to whom I communicated it, would not be content without\ncopying it out, or making some extracts from it. I persuade myself that\nmy devout reader will not be displeased that I insert the greater part\nof it here, especially as it serves to illustrate the affectionate sense\nwhich he had of the divine goodness in his conversion, though more than\ntwenty years had passed since that memorable event happened. Having\nalready mentioned my ever dear and honoured friend Dr. Isaac Watts, he\nadds:\n\n\"I have been in pain these several years lest that excellent person, that\nsweet singer in our Israel, should have been called to heaven before\nI had an opportunity of letting him know how much his works have been\nblessed to me, and, of course, returning him my hearty thanks; for though\nit is owing to the operation of the blessed Spirit, that any thing works\neffectually upon our hearts, yet if we are not thankful to the instrument\nwhich God is pleased to make use of, whom we do see, how shall we be\nthankful to the Almighty, whom we have not seen? I desire to bless God\nfor the good news of his recovery, and entreat you to tell him, that\nalthough I cannot keep pace with him here in celebrating the high praises\nof our glorious Redeemer, which is the greatest grief of my heart, yet I\nam persuaded, that, when I join the glorious company above, where there\nwill be no drawbacks, none will outsing me there, because I shall not\nfind any that will be more indebted to the wonderful riches of divine\ngrace than I.\n\n  \"Give me a place at thy saints' feet,\n  On some fallen angel's vacant seat;\n  I'll strive to sing as loud as they\n  Who sit above in brighter day.\n\n\"I know it is natural for every one who has felt the almighty power\nwhich raised our glorious Redeemer from the grave, to believe his case\nsingular; but I have made every one in this respect submit as soon as he\nhas heard my story. And if you seemed so surprised at the account which I\ngave you, what will you be when you hear it all?\n\n  \"Oh, if I had an angel's voice,\n  And could be heard from pole to pole;\n  I would to all the listening world\n  Proclaim thy goodness to my soul.\"\n\nHe then concludes, after some expressions of endearment, (which, with\nwhatever pleasure I review them, I must not here insert)--\n\n\"If you knew what a natural aversion I have to writing, you would be\nastonished at the length of this letter, which is, I believe, the longest\nI ever wrote. But my heart warms when I write to you, which makes my pen\nmove the easier. I hope it will please our gracious God long to preserve\nyou, a blessed instrument in his hand, of doing great good in the church\nof Christ; and that you may always enjoy a thriving soul in a healthful\nbody, shall be the continual prayer of,\" &c.\n\nAs our intimacy grew, our mutual affection increased; and \"my dearest\nfriend\" was the form of address with which most of his epistles of the\nlast years were begun and ended. Many of them are filled up with his\nsentiments of those writings which I published during these years, which\nhe read with great attention, and of which he speaks in terms which it\nbecomes me to suppress, and to impute, in a considerable degree, to\nthe kind prejudices of so endeared a friendship. He gives me repeated\nassurances \"that he was daily mindful of me in his prayers\", a\ncircumstance which I cannot recollect without the greatest thankfulness;\nand the loss of which I should more deeply lament, did I not hope that\nthe happy effect of these prayers might still continue, and might run\ninto all my remaining days.\n\nIt might be a pleasure to me to make several extracts from many others of\nhis letters; but it is a pleasure which I ought to suppress, and rather\nto reflect, with unfeigned humility, how unworthy I was of such regards\nfrom such a person, and of that divine goodness which gave me such a\nfriend in him. I shall, therefore, only add two general remarks, which\noffer themselves from several of his letters. The one is, that there is\nin some of them, as our freedom increased, an agreeable vein of humour\nand pleasantry, which shows how easy religion sat upon him, and how far\nhe was from placing any part of it in a gloomy melancholy, or stiff\nformality. The other is, that he frequently refers to domestic\ncircumstances, such as the illness or recovery of my children, &c., which\nI am surprised how a man of his extensive and important business could so\ndistinctly bear upon his mind. But his memory was good, and his heart\nwas yet better; and his friendship was such, that nothing which sensibly\naffected the heart of one whom he honoured with it, left his own but\nslightly touched. I have all imaginable reason to believe that in many\ninstances his prayers were not only offered for us in general terms, but\nvaried as our particular situation required. Many quotations might verify\nthis; but I decline troubling the reader with an enumeration of passages\nin which it was only the abundance of friendly sympathy that gave this\ntruly great as well as good man so cordial a concern.\n\nAfter this correspondence, carried on for the space of about three years,\nand some interviews which we had enjoyed at different places, he came to\nspend some time with us at Northampton, and brought with him his lady\nand his two eldest children. I had here an opportunity of taking a much\nnearer view of his character, and surveying it in a much greater variety\nof lights than before; and my esteem for him increased in proportion to\nthese opportunities. What I have written with respect to his conduct in\nrelative life, was in a great measure drawn from what I now saw; and I\nshall mention here some other points in his behaviour which particularly\nstruck my mind, and likewise shall touch on his sentiments on some topics\nof importance which he freely communicated to me, and which I have\nremarked on account of that wisdom and propriety which pervaded them.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nDEVOTION AND CHARITY.\n\n\nThere was nothing more observable in Colonel Gardiner than the exemplary\ngravity, composure, and reverence with which he attended public worship.\nCopious as he was in his secret devotions before he engaged in it, he\nalways began them early, so as not to be retarded by them when he should\nresort to the house of God. He, and all his soldiers who chose to worship\nwith him, were generally there (as I have already hinted) before the\nservice began, that the entrance of so many of them at once might not\ndisturb the congregation already engaged in devotion, and that there\nmight be a better opportunity of bringing the mind to a becoming\nattention, and preparing it for converse with the Divine Being. While\nacts of worship were going on, whether of prayer or singing, he always\nstood up; and whatever regard he might have for persons who passed by him\nat that time, though it were to come into the same pew, he never paid\nany compliment to them; and often has he expressed his wonder at\nthe indecorum of breaking off our addresses to God to bow to a\nfellow-creature, which he thought a much greater indecency that it would\nbe, on a little occasion and circumstance, to interrupt an address to our\nprince. During the time of preaching, his eye was commonly fixed upon the\nminister, though sometimes turned round upon the auditory, against whom,\nif he observed any to trifle, he was filled with just indignation. I have\nknown instances in which, upon making the remark, he has communicated\nit to some friend of the persons who were guilty of it, that proper\napplication might be made to prevent it for the time to come.\n\nA more devout communicant at the table of the Lord has perhaps seldom\nbeen any where known. Often have I had the pleasure to see that manly\ncountenance softened to all the marks of humiliation and contrition on\nthis occasion; and to discern, in spite of all his efforts to conceal\nthem, streams of tears flowing down from his eyes, while he has been\ndirecting them to those memorials of his Redeemer's love. Some who have\nconversed intimately with him after he came from that ordinance, have\nobserved a visible abstraction from surrounding objects, by which\nthere seemed reason to imagine that his soul was wrapped up in holy\ncontemplation. I particularly remember, that when we had once spent a\ngreat part of the following Monday in riding together, he made an apology\nto me for being so absent as he seemed, by telling me \"that his heart was\nflown upwards, before he was aware, to Him 'whom, not having seen, he\nloved;'[*] and that he was rejoicing in him with such unspeakable joy, that\nhe could not hold it down to creature converse.\"\n\n[*Note: This alluded to the subject of the sermon the day before, which\nwas 1 Pet, 1. 8.]\n\nIn all the offices of friendship he was remarkably ready, and had a most\nsweet and engaging manner of performing them, which greatly heightened\nthe obligations he conferred. He seemed not to set any high value upon\nany benefit he bestowed, but did it without the least parade, as a thing\nwhich in those circumstances came of course, where he had professed love\nand respect; which he was not over forward to do, though he treated\nstrangers, and those who were most his inferiors, very courteously, and\nalways seemed, because he in truth always was, glad of any opportunity of\ndoing them good.\n\nHe was particularly zealous in vindicating the reputation of his friends\nin their absence; and though I cannot recollect that I had ever an\nopportunity of immediately observing this, as I do not know that I ever\nwas present with him when any ill was spoken of others at all; yet,\nby what I have heard him say with relation to attempts to injure the\ncharacter of worthy and useful men, I have reason to believe that no\nman living was more sensible of the baseness and infamy, as well as the\ncruelty, of such conduct. He knew and despised the low principles of\nresentment for unreasonable expectations disappointed, of personal\nattachment to men of some crossing interests, of envy, and of party\nzeal, from whence such a conduct often proceeds; and he was particularly\noffended when he found it (as he frequently did) in persons that set up\nfor the greatest patrons of liberty, virtue, and candour. He looked upon\nthe murderers of reputation and usefulness as some of the vilest pests of\nsociety, and plainly showed on every proper occasion that he thought it\nthe part of a generous, benevolent and courageous man to exert himself in\ntracing and hunting down the slander, that the authors or abettors of it\nmight be less capable of mischief for the future.\n\nThe most plausible objection that I ever heard to Colonel Gardiner's\ncharacter is, that he was too much attached to some religious principles,\nestablished indeed in the churches both of England and Scotland, but\nwhich have of late years been much disputed, and from which, it is at\nleast generally supposed, not a few in both have thought proper to\ndepart--whatever expedients they may have found to quiet their\nconsciences, in subscribing those formularies in which they are plainly\ntaught. His zeal was especially apparent in opposition to those doctrines\nwhich seemed to derogate from the divine honours of the Son and Spirit of\nGod, and from the freedom of divine grace, of the reality and necessity\nof its operations in the conversion and salvation of sinners.\n\nWith relation to these I must observe, that it was his most steadfast\npersuasion that all those notions which represent our blessed Redeemer\nand the Holy Spirit as mere creatures, or which set aside the atonement\nof the former, or the influence of the latter, sap the very foundation of\nChristianity by rejecting the most glorious doctrines peculiar to it.\nHe had attentively observed (what indeed is too obvious) the unhappy\ninfluence which the denial of these principles often has on the character\nof ministers, and on their success, and was persuaded that an attempt to\nsubstitute that mutilated form of Christianity which remains, when these\nessentials of it are taken away, has proved one of the most successful\nmethods which the great enemy of souls has ever taken, in these latter\ndays, to lead men by insensible degrees into deism, vice, and perdition.\nHe also sagaciously observed the artful manner in which obnoxious tenets\nare often maintained or insinuated, with all that mixture of zeal and\naddress with which they are propagated in the world, even by those\nwho had most solemnly professed to believe, and engaged to teach the\ncontrary; and as he really apprehended that the glory of God and the\nsalvation of souls were concerned, his piety and charity made him eager\nand strenuous in opposing what he judged to be errors of so pernicious a\nnature. Yet I must declare, that, according to what I have known of him,\n(and I believe he opened his heart on these topics to me with as much\nfreedom as to any man living,) he was not ready, upon light suspicions,\nto charge tenets which he thought so pernicious on any, especially\nwhere he saw the appearances of a good temper and life, which he always\nreverenced and loved in persons of all sentiments and professions. He\nseverely condemned causeless jealousies and evil surmisings of every\nkind, and extended that charity, in this respect, both to clergy and\nlaity, which good Bishop Burnet was so ready, according to his own\naccount, to limit to the latter, \"of believing every man good till he\nknew him to be bad, and his notions right till he knew them wrong.\" He\ncould not but be very sensible of the unhappy consequences which may\nfollow on attacking the characters of men, especially of those who are\nministers of the gospel; and if, through a mixture of human frailty, from\nwhich the best of men, in the best of their meanings and intentions, are\nnot entirely free, he had ever, in the warmth of his heart, dropped a\nword which might be injurious to any on that account, (which I believe\nvery seldom happened,) he would gladly retract it on better information;\nand this was perfectly agreeable to that honest and generous frankness of\ntemper in which I never knew any man who excelled him.\n\nOn the whole, it was indeed his deliberate judgment that the Arian,\nSocinian, and Pelagian doctrines were highly dishonourable to God, and\ndangerous to the souls of men; and that it was the duty of private\nChristians to be greatly on their guard against those ministers by whom\nthey are entertained, lest their minds should be corrupted from the\nsimplicity that is in Christ. Yet he sincerely abhorred the thought of\npersecution for conscience sake; of the absurdity and iniquity of which,\nin all its kinds and degrees, he had as deep and rational a conviction as\nany man. Indeed the generosity of his heroic heart could hardly bear to\nthink that those glorious truths which he so cordially loved, and which\nhe assuredly believed to be capable of such fair support both from reason\nand the word of God, should be disgraced by methods of defence and\npropagation common to the most impious and ridiculous falsehoods. Nor did\nhe by any means approve of passionate and furious ways of vindicating the\nmost vital and important doctrines of the gospel; for he knew that to\nmaintain the most benevolent religion in the world by such malevolent and\ninfernal methods was destroying the end to accomplish the means; and that\nit was as impossible that true Christianity should be supported thus, as\nit is that a man should long be nourished by eating his own flesh. To\ndisplay the genuine fruits of Christianity in a good life--to be ready to\nplead with meekness for the doctrines it teaches, and to labour, by every\noffice of humanity and goodness, to gain upon those who oppose it, were\nthe weapons with which this good soldier of Jesus Christ faithfully\nfought the battles of the Lord. These weapons will always be victorious\nin his cause; and they who have recourse to others of a different temper,\nhow strong soever they may seem, and how sharp soever they may really be,\nwill find them break in their hands when they exert them most furiously,\nand are much more likely to wound themselves than to conquer the enemies\nwhom they oppose.\n\nBut while I am speaking of Colonel Gardiner's charity in this respect, I\nmust not omit that of another kind, which has indeed engrossed the\nname of charity, excellent as it is, much more than it ought--I mean\nalms-giving for which he was very remarkable. I have often wondered how\nhe was able to do so many generous things in this way. But his frugality\nfed the spring. He made no pleasurable expense on himself, and was\ncontented with a very decent appearance in his family, without affecting\nsuch an air of grandeur as could not have been supported without\nsacrificing to it satisfactions far nobler, and, to a temper like his,\nfar more delightful. The lively and tender feelings of his heart in\nfavour of the distressed and afflicted made it a self-indulgence to\nrelieve them; and the deep conviction he had of the vain and transitory\nnature of the enjoyments of this world, together with the sublime view he\nhad of another, engaged him to dispense his bounties with a very liberal\nhand, and even to seek out proper objects of them. Above all, his sincere\nand ardent love to the Lord Jesus Christ engaged him to feel, with a true\nsympathy, the concerns of his poor members. In consequence of this, he\nhonoured several of his friends with commissions for the relief of the\npoor; and particularly, with relation to some under my pastoral care,\nhe referred it to my discretion to supply them with what I should judge\nexpedient, and frequently pressed me, in his letters, \"to be sure not\nto let them want.\" And where persons standing in need of his charity\nhappened, as they often did, to be persons of remarkably religious\ndispositions, it was easy to perceive that he not only loved but honoured\nthem, and really esteemed it an honour which Providence conferred upon\nhim, that he should be made, as it were, the almoner of God for their\nrelief.\n\nI cannot forbear relating a little story here, which, when the colonel\nhimself heard it, gave him such exquisite pleasure, that I hope it will\nbe acceptable to several of my readers. There was in a village about nine\nmiles from Northampton, and in a family which, of all others near me,\nwas afterwards most indebted to him, (though he had never then seen any\nmember of it,) an aged and poor, but eminently good woman, who had, with\ngreat difficulty, in the exercise of much faith and patience, diligence\nand humility, made shift to educate a large family of children after the\ndeath of her husband, without being chargeable to the parish; which, as\nit was quite beyond her hope, she often spoke of with great delight.\nAt length, when worn out with age and infirmities, she lay upon her\ndeath-bed, she, in a most lively and affecting manner, expressed her hope\nand joy in the views of approaching glory. Yet, amidst all the triumphs\nof such a prospect, there was one remaining care and distress which\nlay heavy on her mind; this was, that as her journey and her stock of\nprovisions were both ended together, she feared that she must either\nbe buried at the parish expense, or leave to her most dutiful and\naffectionate daughters the house stripped of some of the few movables\nwhich remained in it, in order to perform the last office of duty to her,\nwhich she had reason to believe they would do. While she was combatting\nwith this only remaining anxiety, I happened, though I knew not the\nextremity of her illness, to come in, and to bring with me a guinea\nwhich the generous colonel had sent by a special message, on hearing the\ncharacter of the family, for its relief. A present like this, (probably\nthe most considerable they had ever received in their lives,) coming in\nthis manner from an entire stranger at such a crisis of time, threw my\ndying friend (for such, amidst all her poverty, I rejoiced to call her)\ninto a perfect transport of joy. She esteemed it a singular favour of\nProvidence sent to her in her last moments as a token for good, and\ngreeted it as a special mark of that loving kindness of God which should\nattend her for ever. She insisted, therefore, to be raised up in her bed,\nthat she might bless God for it upon her knees, and with her last breath\npray for her kind and generous benefactor, and for him who had been the\ninstrument of directing his bounty into this channel. After this she soon\nexpired, and with such tranquillity and sweetness as could not but most\nsensibly delight all who beheld her, and occasioned many who knew the\ncircumstance to glorify God on her behalf.\n\nThe colonel's last residence at Northampton was in June and July 1742,\nwhen Lord Cadogan's regiment of dragoons was quartered here. Here I\ncannot but observe, that wherever that regiment came, it was remarkable\nnot only for the fine appearance it made, and for the exactness with\nwhich it performed its various exercises, (of which it had about this\ntime the honour to receive the most illustrious testimonials,) but also\nfor the great sobriety and regularity of the soldiers. Many of the\nofficers copied after the excellent pattern which they had daily before\ntheir eyes; and a considerable number of the private men seemed to be\npersons not only of strict virtue, but of serious piety. I doubt not but\nthey found their abundant account in it, not only in the serenity and\nhappiness of their own minds, which is beyond comparison the most\nimportant consideration; but also, in some degree, in the obliging and\nrespectful treatment which they generally met with in their quarters.\nI mention this, because I am persuaded that if gentlemen of their\nprofession knew, and would reflect, how much more comfortable they make\ntheir own quarters by a sober, orderly, and obliging conduct, they would\nbe regular out of mere self love, if they were not influenced, as I\nheartily wish they may always be, by a nobler principle.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nEMBARKS FOR FLANDERS.\n\n\nTowards the latter end of this year he embarked for Flanders, and\nspent some considerable time with the regiment at Ghent, where he much\nregretted the want of those religious ordinances and opportunities which\nhad made his other abodes delightful. But as he had made so eminent a\nprogress in that divine life which they are all intended to promote, he\ncould not be inactive in the cause of God. I have now before me a letter,\ndated from thence October 16, 1742, in which he writes:\n\n\"As for me, I am indeed in a dry and barren land, where no water is.\nRivers of waters run down mine eyes, because nothing is to be heard in\nour Sodom but blaspheming the name of my God, and I not honoured as the\ninstrument of doing any great service. It is true, I have reformed six or\nseven field-officers of swearing. I dine every day with them, and have\nentered them into a voluntary contract to pay a shilling to the poor for\nevery oath, and it is wonderful to observe the effect it has had already.\nOne of them told me this day at dinner that it had really such an\ninfluence upon him, that being at cards last night when another officer\nfell a swearing, he was not able to bear it, but rose up and left the\ncompany. So you see, restraints at first arising from a low principle may\nimprove into something better.\"\n\nDuring his abode here, he had a great deal of business upon his hands,\nand had also, in some marches, the care of more regiments than his\nown; and it has been very delightful to me to observe what a degree of\nconverse with heaven, and the God of it, he maintained amidst these\nscenes of hurry and fatigue, of which the reader may find a remarkable\nspecimen in the following letter, dated from Lichwick in the beginning of\nApril 1743, which was one of the last I received from him while abroad.\nIt begins with these words:--\n\n\"Yesterday being the Lord's day, at six in the morning I had the pleasure\nof receiving yours at Nortonick; and it proved a Sabbath day's blessing\nto me. Some time before it reached me,\" (from whence, by the way, it may\nbe observed that his former custom of rising so early in his devotions\nwas still retained,) \"I had been wrestling with God with many tears; and\nwhen I had read it, I returned to my knees again to give hearty thanks to\nhim for all his goodness to you and yours, and also to myself, in that he\nhath been pleased to stir up so many who are dear to him, to be mindful\nof me at the throne of grace.\"\n\nThen, after the mention of some other particulars, he adds:--\n\n\"Blessed and adored for ever be the holy name of my Heavenly Father, who\nholds my soul in life, and my body in perfect health! Were I to recount\nhis mercy and goodness to me even in the midst of all these hurries, I\nshould never have done. I hope your Master will still encourage you in\nhis work, and make you a blessing to many. My dearest friend, I am much\nmore yours than I can express, and shall remain so while I am J.G.\"\n\nIn this correspondence I had a further opportunity of discovering that\nhumble resignation to the will of God which made so amiable a part of his\ncharacter, and of which I had before seen so many instances. He speaks,\nin the letter from which I have just been giving an extract, of the hope\nhe had expressed in a former of seeing us again that winter; and he\nadds:--\n\n\"To be sure, it would have been a great pleasure to me; but we poor\nmortals form projects, and the Almighty ruler of the universe disposes of\nall as he pleases. A great many of us were getting ready for our return\nto England, when we received an order to march towards Frankfort, to the\ngreat surprise of the whole army, neither can any of us comprehend what\nwe are to do there; for there is no enemy in that country, the French\narmy being marched into Bavaria, where I am sure we cannot follow them.\nBut it is the will of the Lord, and his will be done! I desire to bless\nand praise my Heavenly Father that I am entirely resigned to it. It is no\nmatter where I go, or what becomes of me, so that God may be glorified in\nmy life, or my death, I should rejoice much to hear that all my friends\nwere equally resigned.\"\n\nThe mention of this article reminds me of another relating to the views\nwhich he had of obtaining a regiment for himself. He endeavoured to\ndeserve it by the most faithful services; some of them, indeed beyond\nwhat the strength of his constitution could well bear--for the weather in\nsome of these marches proved exceedingly bad, and yet he would be always\nat the head of his people, that he might look, with the exactest care,\nto every thing that concerned them. This obliged him to neglect the\nbeginnings of a feverish illness, the natural consequence of which was\nthat it grew very formidable, forced a long confinement upon him, and\ngave animal nature a shock which it never recovered.\n\nIn the mean time, as he had the promise of a regiment before he\nquitted England, his friends were continually expecting an occasion of\ncongratulating him on having received the command of one. Still they were\ndisappointed, and on some of them the disappointment seemed to sit heavy.\nAs for the colonel himself, he seemed quite easy about it, and appeared\nmuch greater in that easy situation of mind than the highest military\nhonours and preferments could have made him. With great pleasure do I at\nthis moment recollect the unaffected serenity, and even indifference,\nwith which he expresses himself upon this occasion, in a letter to me,\ndated about the beginning of April, 1743.\n\n\"The disappointment of a regiment is nothing to me, for I am satisfied\nthat, had it been for God's glory, I should have had it, and I should\nhave been sorry to have had it on any other terms. My Heavenly Father has\nbestowed upon me infinitely more than if he had made me emperor of the\nwhole world.\"\n\nI find several parallel expressions in other letters, and those to his\nlady about the same time were just in the same strain. In an extract from\none which was written from Aix-la-Chapelle, April 21, the same year, I\nmeet with these words:\n\n\"People here imagine I must be sadly troubled that I have not got a\nregiment, (for six out of seven vacant are now disposed of): but they are\nstrangely mistaken, for it has given me no sort of trouble. My Heavenly\nFather knows what is best for me; and blessed and ever adored be his\nname, he has given me an entire resignation to his will. Besides, I do\nnot know that I met with any disappointment, since I was a Christian, but\nit pleased God to discover to me that it was plainly for my advantage, by\nbestowing something better upon me afterwards, many instances of which I\nam able to produce; and therefore I should be the greatest of monsters,\nif I did not trust in him.\"\n\nI should be guilty of a great omission, if I were not to add how\nremarkably the event corresponded with his faith on this occasion; for\nwhereas he had no intimation or expectation of any thing more than a\nregiment of foot, his Majesty was pleased, out of his great goodness,\nto give him a regiment of dragoons which was then quartered in his own\nneighborhood. It is properly remarked by the reverend and worthy person\nthrough whose hand this letter was transmitted to me, that when the\ncolonel thus expressed himself, he could have no prospect of what he\nafterwards so soon obtained, as General Bland's regiment, to which he was\nadvanced, was only vacant on the 19th of April--that is, two days before\nthe date of this letter, when it was impossible he should have any notice\nof that vacancy. It also deserves observation, that some few days after\nthe colonel was thus unexpectedly promoted to the command of these\ndragoons, Lord Cornwallis's regiment of foot, then in Flanders, became\nvacant. Now, had this happened before his promotion to General Bland's,\nColonel Gardiner, in all probability, would only have had that regiment\nof foot, and so would have continued in Flanders. When the affair was\nsettled, he informs Lady Frances of it in a letter dated from a village\nnear Frankfort, 3d May, in which he refers to his former of the 21st of\nApril, observing how remarkably it was verified \"in God's having given\nhim\" (for so he expressed it, agreeably to the views which he continually\nmaintained of the universal agency of Divine Providence) \"what he had\nno expectation of, and what was so much better than that which he had\nmissed--a regiment of dragoons quartered at his own door.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nRETURN TO ENGLAND.\n\n\nIt appeared to him that by this remarkable event Providence called him\nhome. Accordingly, though he had other preferments offered him in the\narmy, he chose to return, and I believe the more willingly, as he did not\nexpect there would have been an action. Just at this time it pleased God\nto give him an awful instance of the uncertainty of human prospects and\nenjoyments, by that violent fever which seized him at Ghent on his way to\nEngland, and perhaps the more severely for the efforts he made to push on\nhis journey, though he had for some days been much indisposed. It was, I\nthink, one of the first fits of severe illness he had ever met with, and\nhe was ready to look upon it as a sudden call into eternity; but it gave\nhim no painful alarm in that view. He committed himself to the God of his\nlife, and in a few weeks he was so well recovered as to be capable of\npursuing his journey, though not without difficulty. I cannot but think\nit might have conduced much to a more perfect recovery than he ever\nattained, to have allowed himself a longer repose, in order to recruit\nhis exhausted strength and spirits. But there was an activity in his\ntemper not easy to be restrained, and it was now stimulated, not only\nwith a desire to see his friends, but of being with his regiment, that\nhe might omit nothing in his power to regulate their morals and their\ndiscipline, and to form them for public service. Accordingly, about the\nmiddle of June, 1743, he passed through London, where he had the honour\nof waiting on their royal highnesses, the Prince and Princess of Wales,\nand of receiving from both the most obliging token of favour and esteem.\nHe arrived at Northampton on Monday the 21st of June, and spent part of\nthree days there. But the great pleasure which his return and preferment\ngave us, was much abated by observing his countenance so sadly altered,\nand the many marks of languor and remaining disorder which evidently\nappeared, so that he really looked ten years older than he had done\nten months before. I had, however, a satisfaction sufficient to\ncounterbalance much of the concern which this alteration gave me, in a\nrenewed opportunity of observing, indeed more sensibly than ever, in\nhow remarkable a degree he was dead to the enjoyments and views of this\nmortal life. When I congratulated him on the favourable appearances of\nProvidence for him in the late event, he briefly told me the remarkable\ncircumstances that attended it, with the most genuine expressions of\ngratitude to God for them; but added, \"that as his account was increased\nwith his income, power, influence, and his cares were proportionably\nincreased too, it was, as to his own personal concern, much the same to\nhim whether he had remained in his former station, or been elevated to\nthis; but that if God should by this means honour him as an instrument of\ndoing more good than he could otherwise have done, he should rejoice in\nit.\"\n\nI perceived that the near views he had taken of eternity, in the illness\nfrom which he was then so imperfectly recovered, had not in the least\nalarmed him; but that he would have been entirely willing, had such been\nthe determination of God, to have been cut short in a foreign land,\nwithout any earthly friend near him, and in the midst of a journey\nundertaken with hopes and prospects so pleasing to nature, which appeared\nto me no inconsiderable evidence of the strength of his faith. But we\nshall wonder the less at this extraordinary resignation, if we consider\nthe joyful and assured prospect which he had of a happiness infinitely\nsuperior beyond the grave; of which that worthy minister of the church of\nScotland, who had an opportunity of conversing with him quickly after his\nreturn, and having the memorable story of his conversion from his own\nmouth, (as I have hinted above,) writes thus in his letter to me, dated\nJan. 14, 1746-7:\n\n\"When he came to review his regiment at Linlithgow, in summer 1743, after\nhaving given me the wonderful story as above, he concluded in words to\nthis purpose: Let me die whenever it shall please God, or wherever it\nshall be, I am sure I shall go to the mansions of eternal glory, and\nenjoy my God and my Redeemer in heaven for ever.\"\n\nWhile he was with us at this time he appeared deeply affected with the\nsad state of things as to religion and morals, and seemed to apprehend\nthat the rod of God was hanging over so sinful a nation. He observed a\ngreat deal of disaffection which the enemies of the government had, by a\nvariety of artifices, been raising in Scotland for some years; and the\nnumber of Jacobites there, together with the defenceless state in which\nour island then was, with respect to the number of its forces at home,\n(of which he spoke at once with great concern and astonishment,) led\nhim to expect an invasion from France, and an attempt in favour of the\nPretender, much sooner than it happened. I have heard him often say, many\nyears before it came so near being accomplished, \"that a few thousands\nmight have a fair chance for marching from Edinburgh to London\nuncontrolled, and throw the whole Kingdom into an astonishment.\" And I\nhave great reason to believe that this was one main consideration which\nengaged him to make such haste to his regiment, then quartered in those\nparts, as he imagined there was not a spot of ground where he might be\nmore likely to have a call to expose his life in the service of his\ncountry, and perhaps, by appealing on a proper call early in its\ndefences, be instrumental in suppressing the beginnings of most\nformidable mischief. How rightly he judged in these things, the event too\nevidently showed.\n\nThe evening before our last separation, as I knew I could not more\nagreeably entertain the valuable friend who was then my guest, I preached\na sermon in my own house, with some peculiar reference to his case and\ncircumstances, from those ever-memorable words, than which I have never\nfelt any more powerful and more comfortable: Psalm xci. 14, 15, 16,\n\"Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I\nwill set him on high, because he hath known my name. He shall call upon\nme, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver\nhim, and honour him: with long life (or length of days) will I satisfy\nhim, and show him my salvation.\" This scripture could not but lend our\nmeditations to survey the character of the good man, as one who so knows\nthe name of the blessed God--has such a deep apprehension of the glories\nand perfections of his nature--as determinately to set his love upon him,\nto make him the supreme object of his most ardent and constant affection.\nAnd it suggested the most sublime and animating hopes to persons of such\na character, that their prayers shall be always acceptable to God; that\nthough they may, and must, be called to their share in the troubles and\ncalamities of life, yet they may assure themselves of the divine presence\nin all, which will issue in their deliverance, in their exaltation,\nsometimes in distinguished honour and esteem among men, and, it may be,\nin a long course of useful and happy years on earth; at least, which\nshall undoubtedly end in seeing, to their perpetual delight, the complete\nsalvation of God, in a world where they shall enjoy length of days for\never and ever, and employ them all in adoring the great Author of their\nsalvation and felicity. It is evident that these natural thoughts on such\na Scripture were matters of universal concern. Yet had I, as a minister\nof the gospel, known that this was the last time I should address Colonel\nGardiner, and had I foreseen the scenes through which God was about to\nlead him, I hardly know what considerations I could have suggested with\nmore peculiar propriety. The attention, elevation, and delight with which\nhe heard them, were very apparent, and the pleasure which the observation\nof it gave me, continues to this moment.\n\nLet me be permitted to digress so far as to add, that this is indeed the\ngreat support of a Christian minister under the many discouragements\nand disappointments which he meets with in his attempts to fix upon the\nprofligate or the thoughtless part of mankind a deep sense of religious\ntruth; that there is another important part of his work in which he may\nhope to be more generally successful; as, by plain, artless, but serious\ndiscourses, the great principles of Christian duty and hope may be\nnourished and invigorated in good men, their graces watered as at\nthe root, and their souls animated, both to persevere and improve in\nholiness. When we are effectually performing such benevolent offices, so\nwell suiting our immortal natures, to persons whose hearts are cemented\nwith ours in the hands of the most endearing and sacred friendship, it is\ntoo little to say that it overpays the fatigue of our Labours; it even\nswallows up all sense of it in the most rational and sublime pleasure.\n\nAn incident occurred that evening, which, at least for the oddness of\nit, may deserve a place in these memoirs. I had then with me one Thomas\nPorter, a poor but very honest and religious man, (now living at Hatfield\nBroad-Oak in Essex,) who is quite unacquainted with letters, so as not to\nbe able to distinguish one from another, yet is master of the contents\nof the Bible in so extraordinary a degree, that he has not only fixed an\nimmense number of texts in his memory, but, merely by hearing them quoted\nin sermons, has registered there the chapter and verse in which these\npassages are to be found. This is attended with a marvellous facility in\ndirecting readers to turn to them, and a most unaccountable talent of\nfixing on such as suit almost every imaginable variety of circumstances\nin common life. There are in this case two considerations that make it\nthe more wonderful; the one, that he is a person of very low genius,\nhaving, besides a stammering which makes his speech almost unintelligible\nto strangers, so wild and awkward a manner of behaviour, that he is\nfrequently taken for an idiot, and seems in many things to be indeed\nso;--the other, that he grew up to manhood in a very licentious course of\nliving, and an entire ignorance of divine things, so that all these exact\nimpressions on his memory have been made in his riper years. I thought\nit would not be disagreeable to the colonel to introduce to him this\nodd phenomenon, which many hundreds of people have had a curiosity to\nexamine; and, among all the strange things I have seen in him, I never\nremember any that equalled what passed on this occasion. On hearing\nthe colonel's profession, and receiving some hints of his religious\ncharacter, he ran through a vast variety of scriptures, beginning at\nthe Pentateuch and going on to the Revelation, relating either to the\ndependence to be fixed on God for the success of military preparations,\nor to the instances and promises occurring there for his care of good men\nin the most imminent dangers, or to the encouragement to despise perils\nand death, while engaged in a good cause, and supported by the views of\na happy immortality. I believe he quoted more than twenty of these\npassages, and I must freely own that I know not who could have chosen\nthem with greater propriety. If my memory deceive me not, the last of\nthis catalogue was that from which I afterwards preached, on the lamented\noccasion of this great man's fall: \"Be thou faithful unto death, and I\nwill give thee a crown of life.\" We were all astonished at so remarkable\na feat, and I question not but many of my readers will think the memory\nof it worthy of being thus preserved.\n\nBut to return to my main subject: The day after the sermon and\nconversation of which I have been speaking, I took my best leave of my\ninestimable friend, after attending him some part of his way northward.\nThe first stage of our journey was to the cottage of that poor but\nreligious family which I had before occasion to mention as relieved, and\nindeed in a great measure subsisted by his charity. Nothing could be more\ndelightful than to observe the condescension with which he conversed with\nthese his humble pensioners. We there put up our last united prayers\ntogether; and he afterwards expressed, in the strongest terms I have ever\nheard him use on such an occasion, the singular pleasure with which he\nhad joined in them. Indeed it was no small satisfaction to me to have\nan opportunity of recommending such a valuable friend to the divine\nprotection and blessing, with that particular freedom and enlargement on\nwhat was peculiar in his circumstances, which hardly any other situation,\nunless we had been quite alone, could so conveniently have admitted.\nWe went from thence to the table of a person of distinction in the\nneighborhood, where he had an opportunity of showing in how decent and\ngraceful a manner he could unite the Christian and the gentleman, and\ngive conversation an improving and religious turn, without violating any\nof the rules of polite behaviour, or saying or doing any thing, which\nlooked at all constrained or affected. Here we took our last embrace,\ncommitting each other to the care of the God of heaven; and the colonel\npursued his journey to the north, where he spent the remainder of his\ndays.\n\nThe more I reflect upon this appointment of Providence, the more I\ndiscern the beauty and wisdom of it--not only as it led directly to that\nglorious period of life with which God had determined to honour him, and\nin which, I think, it becomes all his friends to rejoice, but also as the\nretirement on which he entered could not but have a happy tendency to\nfavour his more immediate and complete preparation for so speedy a\nremove. To this we may add, that it must probably have a very powerful\ninfluence to promote the interests of religion (incomparably the greatest\nof all interests) among the members of his own family, who must surely be\nedified by such daily lessons as they received from his lips, when they\nsaw them illustrated and enforced by so admirable an example, and for\ntwo complete years. It is the more remarkable, as I cannot find from the\nmemoirs of his life in my hands that he had ever been so long at home\nsince he had a family, or indeed, from his childhood, ever so long at a\ntime in any one place.\n\nWith how clear a lustre his lamp shone, and with what holy vigour his\nloins were girded up in the service of his God in these his latter days,\nI learn in part from the letters of several excellent persons in the\nministry, or in secular life, with whom I have since conversed or\ncorresponded. In his many letters dated from Bankton during this period,\nI have still further evidence how happy he was amidst those infirmities\nof body, which his tenderness for me would seldom allow him to mention;\nfor it appears from them what a daily intercourse he kept up with Heaven,\nand what delightful communion with God crowned his attendance on public\nordinances, and his sweet hours of devout retirement. He mentions his\nsacramental opportunities with peculiar relish, crying out, as in a holy\nrapture, in reference to one and another of them, \"Oh how gracious\na Master do we serve! how pleasant is his service; how rich the\nentertainments of his love! yet how poor and cold are our services!\" But\nI will not multiply quotations of this sort after those I have given\nabove, which may be a sufficient specimen of many more in the same\nstrain. This hint may suffice to show that the same ardour of soul held\nout in a great measure to the last; and indeed it seems that towards the\nclose of life, like the flame of a lamp almost expiring, it sometimes\nexerted an unusual blaze.\n\nHe spent much of his time at Bankton in religious solitude; and one\nmost intimately conversant with him assures me that the traces of that\ndelightful converse with God which he enjoyed in it might easily be\ndiscerned in the solemn yet cheerful countenance with which he often came\nout of his closet. Yet his exercises there must sometimes have been very\nmournful, considering the melancholy views which he had of the state of\nour public affairs.\n\n\"I should be glad,\" says he, (in a letter which he sent me about the\nclose of the year 1743,) \"to hear what wise and good people among you\nthink of the present circumstances of things. For my own part, though I\nthank God I fear nothing for myself, my apprehensions for the public are\nvery gloomy, considering the deplorable prevalency of almost all kinds\nof wickedness amongst us--the natural consequence of the contempt of the\ngospel. I am daily offering my prayers to God for this sinful land of\nours, over which his judgments seem to be gathering; and my strength is\nsometimes so exhausted with those strong cries and tears, which I pour\nout before God on this occasion, that I am hardly able to stand when I\narise from my knees.\"\n\nIf we have many remaining to stand in the breach with equal fervency, I\nhope, crying as our provocations are, that God will still be entreated\nfor us, and save us.\n\nMost of the other letters I had the pleasure of receiving from him after\nour last separation, are either filled, like those of former years, with\ntender expressions of affectionate solicitude for my domestic comfort\nand public usefulness, or relate to the writings I published during this\ntime, or to the affairs of his eldest son, then under my care. But these\nare things which are by no means of a nature to be communicated here. It\nis enough to remark, in general, that the Christian was still mingled\nwith all the care of the friend and the parent.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nREVIVAL OF RELIGION.\n\n\nBut I think it incumbent upon me to observe, that during this time, and\nfor some preceding years, his attention, ever wakeful to such concerns,\nwas much engaged by some religious appearances which happened about this\ntime both in England and Scotland, and with regard to which some may be\ncurious to know the colonel's sentiments. He communicated them to me with\nthe most unreserved freedom; and I cannot apprehend myself under any\nengagement to conceal them, as I am persuaded that it will be no\nprejudice to his memory that they should be publicly known.\n\nIt was from Colonel Gardiner's pen that I received the first notice of\nthat ever memorable scene which was opened at Kilsyth, under the\nministry of the Rev. Mr. M'Culloch in the month of February, 1741-2. He\ncommunicated to me the copy of two letters from that eminently-favoured\nservant of God, giving an account of that extraordinary success which had\nwithin a few days accompanied his preaching, when, as I remember, in\na little more than a fortnight, one hundred and thirty souls, who had\nbefore continued in long insensibility under the faithful preaching of\nthe gospel, were awakened on a sudden to attend to it, as if it had been\na new revelation brought down from heaven, and attested by as astonishing\nmiracles as ever were wrought by Peter or Paul, though they only heard it\nfrom a person under whose ministry they had sat for several years. Struck\nwith a power and majesty in the word of God which they had never felt\nbefore, they crowded his house night and day, making their applications\nto him for spiritual direction and assistance, with an earnestness and\nsolicitude which floods of tears and cries, that swallowed up their own\nwords and his, could not sufficiently express. The colonel mentioned this\nat first to me \"as matter of eternal praise, which he knew would rejoice\nmy very soul;\" and when he saw it spread in the neighbouring parts, and\nobserved the glorious reformation which it produced in the lives of great\nmultitudes, and the abiding fruits of it, for succeeding months and\nyears, it increased and confirmed his joy. But the facts relating to this\nmatter have been laid before the world in so authentic a manner, and the\nagency of divine grace in them has been so rationally vindicated, and so\npathetically represented, in what the reverend and judicious Mr. Webster\nhas written upon that subject, that it is altogether superfluous for me\nto add any thing further than my hearty prayers that the work may be as\nextensive as it was glorious and divine.[*]\n\n[*Note: See \"Revivals in Scotland,\" published by the Board of\nPublication.]\n\nIt was with great pleasure that he received any intelligence of a like\nkind from England, whether the clergy of the Established Church or\ndissenting ministers, whether our own countrymen or foreigners, were the\ninstruments of it. Whatever weaknesses or errors might mingle themselves\nwith valuable qualities in such as were active in such a work, he\nappeared to love and honour them in proportion to the degree he saw\nreason to believe that their hearts were devoted to the service of\nChrist, and their attempts owned and succeeded by him. I remember, that\nmentioning one of these gentlemen who had been remarkably successful in\nhis ministry, and who seemed to have met with some very unkind usage, he\nsays, \"I had rather be that despised, persecuted man, to be an instrument\nin the hand of the Spirit in converting so many souls, and building up so\nmany in their holy faith, than I would be emperor of the whole world.\"\nYet this steady and judicious Christian, (for such he most assuredly\nwas,) at the same time that he esteemed a man for his good intentions,\nand his worthy qualities, did not suffer himself to be hurried away into\nall the singularity of his sentiments, or to admire his imprudences or\nexcesses. On the contrary, he saw and lamented that artifice which the\ngreat father of fraud has so long and so successfully been practising,\nand who, like the enemies of Israel, when he cannot entirely prevent the\nbuilding of God's temple, does, as it were, offer his assistance to carry\non the work, that he may thereby get the most effectual opportunities of\nobstructing it. The colonel often expressed his astonishment at the wide\nextremes into which some whom on the whole he thought very worthy men,\nwere permitted to run in many doctrinal and speculative points, and\ndiscerned how evidently it appeared from hence that we cannot argue the\ntruth of any doctrine from the success of the preacher, since this would\nbe a kind of demonstration which might equally prove both parts of a\ncontradiction. Yet when he observed that a high regard to the atonement\nand righteousness of Christ, and to the free grace of God in him, exerted\nby the operation of the Divine Spirit, was generally common to all who\nhad been peculiarly successful in the conversion and reformation of men,\n(how widely soever their judgments might differ in other points, and how\nwarmly soever their judgments might oppose each other in consequence\nof that diversity,) it tended greatly to confirm his faith in these\nprinciples, as well as to open his heart in love to all, of every\ndenomination, who maintained an affectionate regard to them. Although\nwhat he remarked as to the conduct and success of ministers of the most\nopposite strains of preaching confirmed him in these sentiments, yet he\nalways esteemed and loved virtuous and benevolent men, even where he\nthought them the most mistaken in the notions they formed of religion, or\nin the methods by which they attempted to serve it.\n\nWhile I thus represent what all who knew him must soon have observed of\nColonel Gardiner's affectionate regard to these peculiar doctrines of our\nholy religion, it is necessary that I should also inform my reader that\nit was not his opinion that the attention of ministers or their hearers\nshould be wholly engrossed by these, excellent as they are; but that all\nthe parts of the scheme of truth and duty should be regarded in their due\nconnection and proportion. Far from that distempered taste which can bear\nnothing but cordials, it was his deliberate judgment that the law as well\nas the gospel should be preached; and hardly any thing gave him greater\noffence than the irreverent manner in which some who have been ignorantly\nextolled as the most zealous evangelical preachers, have sometimes\nbeen tempted to speak of the former, much indeed to the scandal of all\nconsistent and judicious Christians. He delighted to be instructed in\nhis duty, and to hear much of the inward exercises of the spiritual and\ndivine life. He always wished, so far as I could observe, to have these\ntopics treated in a rational as well as spiritual manner, with solidity\nand order of thought, with perspicuity and weight of expression, well\nknowing that religion is a most reasonable service--that God has not\nchosen idiots or lunatics as the instruments, or nonsense as the means of\nbuilding up his church--and that though the charge of enthusiasm is often\nfixed on Christianity and its ministers in a wild, undeserved, and,\nindeed, on the whole, enthusiastical manner, by some of the loudest or\nmost solemn pretenders to reason, yet there is really such a thing as\nenthusiasm, against which it becomes the true friends of revelation to be\ndiligently on their guard, lest Christianity, instead of being exalted,\nshould be greatly corrupted and debased, and all manner of absurdity,\nboth in doctrine and practice, introduced by methods which, like\npersecution, throw truth and falsehood on a level, and render the\ngrossest errors at once more plausible and more incurable. He had too\nmuch candour and equity to fix general charges of this nature; but he was\nreally (and I think not vainly,) apprehensive that the emissaries and\nagents of the most corrupt church that ever dishonoured the Christian\nname, (by which, it will easily be understood, I mean that of Rome,)\nmight very possibly insinuate themselves into societies to which they\ncould not otherwise have access, and make their advantage of that total\nresignation of the understanding, and contempt of reason and learning,\nwhich nothing but ignorance, delirium, or knavery can dictate, to lead\nmen blindfolded whither it pleased, till it set them down at the foot of\nan altar where transubstantiation itself was consecrated.\n\nI know not where I can more properly introduce another part of the\ncolonel's character, which, obvious as it was, I have not yet touched\nupon; I mean his tenderness to those who were under any spiritual\ndistress, wherein he was indeed an example to ministers in a duty more\npeculiarly theirs. I have seen many amiable instances of this myself, and\nI have been informed of many others. One of these happened about the time\nof that awakening in the western parts of Scotland, which I touched upon\nabove, when the Rev. Mr. M'Laurin, of Glasgow, found occasion to witness\nto the great propriety, judgment, and felicity of manner, with which he\naddressed spiritual consolation to an afflicted soul who applied to the\nprofessor at a time when he had not an opportunity immediately to give\naudience to the case. Indeed so long ago as the year 1726, I find him\nwriting in this regard to a friend in a strain of tenderness which might\nwell have become the most affectionate and experienced pastor. He there\ncongratulates him on some religious enjoyments, lately received, (in\npart, it seems, by his means) when, among others, he has this modest\nexpression: \"If I have been made any way the means of doing you good,\ngive the whole glory to God; for he has been willing to show that the\npower was entirely of himself, since he has been pleased to make use of\nso very weak an instrument.\" In the same letter he admonishes his friend\nthat he should not be too much surprised, if after having been (as he\nexpressed it) upon the mount, he should be brought into this valley\nagain, reminding him that \"we live by faith, and not by sensible\nassurance,\" and representing that there are some such full communications\nfrom God as seem almost to swallow up the actings of faith, from whence\nthey take their rise: \"Whereas, when a Christian who walks in darkness,\nand sees no light, will yet hang, as it were, on the report of an absent\nJesus, and\" (as one expresses it in allusion to the story of Jacob and\nJoseph) \"can put himself as on the chariot of the promises, to be borne\non to Him whom he sees not; there may be sublimer and more acceptable\nactings of a pure and strong faith than in moments which afford the soul\na much more rapturous delight.\" This is the substance of what he says in\nthis excellent letter. Some of the phrases made use of might not perhaps\nbe intelligible to several of my readers, for which reason I do not\nexactly transcribe them all; but this is plainly and fully his meaning,\nand most of the words are his own. The sentiment is surly very just and\nimportant; and happy would it be for many excellent persons, who,\nthrough wrong notions of the nature of faith, (which was never more\nmisrepresented than now among some,) are perplexing themselves with\nthe most groundless doubts and scruples, if it were more generally\nunderstood, admitted, and considered.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nAPPREHENSIONS OF DEATH.\n\n\nAn endeared friend, who was most intimately conversant with the colonel\nduring the last two years of his life, has favoured me with an account\nof some little circumstances relating to him, which I esteem as precious\nfragments, by which the consistent tenor of his character may be further\nillustrated. I shall therefore insert them here, without being very\nsolicitous as to the order in which they are introduced.\n\nHe perceived himself evidently in a very declining state from his first\narrival in Britain, and seemed to entertain a fixed apprehension that he\nshould continue but a little while longer in life. \"He expected death,\"\nsays my good correspondent, \"and was delighted with the prospect,\" which\ndid not grow less amiable by the nearer approach. The word of God, with\nwhich he had as intimate an acquaintance as most men I ever knew, and on\nwhich (especially on the New Testament) I have heard him make many\nvery judicious and accurate remarks, was still his daily study; and\nit furnished him with matter of frequent conversation, much to the\nedification and comfort of those that were about him. It was recollected\nthat, among other passages, he had lately spoken of the following as\nhaving made a deep impression on his mind: \"My soul, wait thou only upon\nGod.\" He would repeat it again and again, _only, only, only_! So plainly\ndid he see, and so deeply did he feel, the vanity of creature confidence\nand expectations. With the strongest attestation would he often mention\nthose words in Isaiah, as verified by long experience: \"Thou wilt keep\nhim in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusteth\nin thee.\" And with peculiar satisfaction would he utter those heroic\nwords in Habakkuk, which he found armour of proof against every fear and\nevery contingency: \"Though the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall\nfruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields\nshall yield no meal; the flocks shall be cut off from the fold, and there\nshall be no herd in the stalls; yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will\njoy in the God of my salvation.\" The 145th Psalm was also spoken of by\nhim with great delight, and Dr. Watts's version of it, as well as several\nothers of that excellent person's poetical compositions. My friend who\ntransmits to me this account, adds the following words, which I desire\nto insert with the deepest sentiments of unfeigned humility and\nself-abasement before God, as most unworthy the honour of contributing\nin the least degree to the joys and graces of one so much my superior in\nevery part of the Christian character. \"As the joy with which good men\nsee the happy fruits of their labours, makes a part of the present reward\nof the servants of God and the friends of Jesus, it must not be omitted,\neven in a letter to you, that your spiritual hymns were among his most\ndelightful and soul-improving repasts; particularly those on beholding\ntransgressors with grief, and Christ's Message.\" What is added concerning\nmy book of the Rise and Progress of Religion, and the terms in which he\nexpressed his esteem of it, I cannot suffer to pass my pen; only I desire\nmost sincerely to bless God, that, especially by the last chapters\nof that treatise, I had an opportunity, at so great a distance, of\nexhibiting some offices of Christian friendship to this excellent person\nin the closing scenes of life, which it would have been my greatest joy\nto have performed in person, had Providence permitted me then to have\nbeen near him.\n\nThe former of these hymns, which my correspondent mentions as having been\nso agreeable to Colonel Gardiner, I have given the reader already. The\nlatter, which is called Christ's Message, took its rise from Luke iv. 18,\n19, and is as follows:\n\n  Hark! the glad sound! the Saviour comes,\n  The Saviour promised long;\n  Let every heart prepare a throne,\n  And every voice a song.\n\n  On him the Spirit largely poured,\n  Exerts its sacred fire;\n  Wisdom and might, and zeal and love,\n  His holy breast inspire.\n\n  He comes the prisoners to release,\n  In Satan's bondage held;\n  The gates of brass before him burst,\n  The iron fetters yield.\n\n  He comes, from thickest films of vice\n  To clear the mental ray,\n  And on the eye-balls of the blind\n  To pour celestial day.[*]\n\n  He comes the broken heart to bind,\n  The bleeding soul to cure;\n  And with the treasures of his grace\n  To enrich the humble poor.\n\n  His silver trumpets publish loud\n  The jubilee of the Lord;\n  Our debts are all remitted now,\n  Our heritage restored.\n\n  Our glad hosannas, Prince of Peace!\n  Thy welcome shall proclaim;\n  And heaven's eternal arches ring\n  With Thy beloved name.\n\n[*Note: This stanza is mostly borrowed from Mr. Pope.]\n\nThere is one hymn more I shall beg leave to add, plain as it is, which\nColonel Gardiner has been heard to mention with particular regard, as\nexpressing the inmost sentiments of his soul, and they were undoubtedly\nso in the last rational moments of his expiring life. It is called\n'Christ precious to the Believer,' and was composed to be sung after a\nsermon on 1 Pet. ii 7.\n\n  Jesus! I love thy charming name,\n  'Tis music to my ear:\n  Fain would I sound it out so loud,\n  That earth and heaven should hear.\n\n  Yea! thou art precious to my soul,\n  My transport and my trust;\n  Jewels to Thee are gaudy toys,\n  And gold is sordid dust.\n\n  All my capacious powers can wish,\n  In Thee most richly meet;\n  Nor to mine eyes is life so dear,\n  Nor friendship half so sweet.\n\n  Thy grace still dwells upon my heart,\n  And sheds its fragrance there;\n  The noblest balm of all its wounds,\n  The cordial of its care.\n\n  I'll speak the honours of thy name\n  With my last labouring breath;\n  Then speechless clasp thee in my arms,\n  The antidote of death.\n\nThose who were intimate with Colonel Gardiner, must have observed how\nready he was to give a devotional turn to any subject that occurred. In\nparticular, the spiritual and heavenly disposition of his soul discovered\nitself in the reflections and improvements which he made when reading\nhistory, in which he took a great deal of pleasure, as persons remarkable\nfor their knowledge of mankind, and observation of Providence, generally\ndo. I have an instance of this before me, which, though too natural to be\nat all surprising, will, I dare say, be pleasing to the devout mind. He\nhad just been reading, in Rollin's extracts from Xenophon, the answer\nwhich the lady of Tigranes made when all the company were extolling\nCyrus, and expressing the admiration with which his appearance and\nbehaviour struck them. The question being asked her, What she thought of\nhim? she answered, \"I do not know; I did not observe him.\" On what, then,\nsaid one of the company did you fix your attention? \"On him,\" replied\nshe, (referring to the generous speech which her husband had just made,)\n\"who said he would give a thousand lives to ransom my liberty.\" \"Oh,\"\ncried the colonel, when reading it, \"how ought we to fix our eyes and\nhearts on Him who, not in offer, but in reality, gave his own precious\nlife to ransom us from the most dreadful slavery, and from eternal\ndestruction!\" But this is only one instance among a thousand. His heart\nwas so habitually set upon divine things, and he had such a permanent\nand overflowing sense of the love of Christ, that he could not forbear\nconnecting such reflections with a multitude of more distant occasions\noccurring in daily life, on which less advanced Christians would not have\nthought of them; and thus, like our great Master, he made every little\nincident a source of devotion, and an instrument of holy zeal.\n\nEnfeebled as his constitution was, he was still intent on improving his\ntime to some valuable purpose; and when his friends expostulated with him\nthat he gave his body so little rest, he used to answer, \"It will rest\nlong enough in the grave.\"\n\nThe July before his death, he was persuaded to take a journey to\nScarborough for the recovery of his health, from which he was at least\nencouraged to expect some little revival. After this he had thoughts\nof going to London, and intended to have spent part of September at\nNorthampton. The expectation of this was mutually agreeable; but\nProvidence saw fit to disconcert the scheme. His love for his friends in\nthese parts occasioned him to express some regret on his being commanded\nback; and I am pretty confident, from the manner in which he expressed\nhimself in one of his last letters to me, that he had some more important\nreasons for wishing an opportunity of making a London journey just at\nthat crisis, which, the reader will remember, was before the rebellion\nbroke out. But, as Providence determined it otherwise, he acquiesced;\nand I am well satisfied, that could he have distinctly foreseen the\napproaching event, so far as it concerned his own person, he would have\nesteemed it the happiest summons he ever received. While he was at\nScarborough, I find by a letter dated from thence, July 26, 1745, that\nhe had been informed of the gaiety which so unseasonably prevailed at\nEdinburgh, where great multitudes were then spending their time in balls,\nassemblies, and other gay amusements, little mindful of the rod of\nGod which was then hanging over them; on which occasion he hath this\nexpression: \"I am greatly surprised that the people of Edinburgh should\nbe employed in such foolish diversions, when our situation is at present\nmore melancholy than ever I saw it in my life. But there is one thing\nwhich I am very sure of, and that comforts me, viz., that it shall go well\nwith the righteous, come what will.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nBATTLE OF PRESTONPANS.\n\n\nQuickly after his return home, the flame burst out, and his regiment\nwas ordered to Stirling. It was in that castle that his lady and eldest\ndaughter enjoyed the last happy hours of his company, and I think it was\nabout ten or twelve days before his death that he parted from them there.\nA remarkable circumstance attended that parting, which has been touched\nupon by surviving friends in more than one of their letters to me. His\nlady was so affected when she took her last leave of him, that she could\nnot forbear bursting out into a flood of tears, with other marks of\nunusual emotion; and when he asked her the reason, she urged as a\nsufficient apology, the apprehension she had of losing such an invaluable\nfriend, amidst the dangers to which he was then called out. On this she\ntook particular notice, that whereas he had generally comforted her on\nsuch occasions by pleading with her that remarkable hand of Providence\nwhich had so frequently in former instances been exerted for his\npreservation, and that in the greatest extremity, he said nothing of it\nnow; but only replied in his sententious manner, \"We have an eternity to\nspend together.\"\n\nThat heroic contempt of death which had often discovered itself in the\nmidst of former dangers, was manifested now in his discourse with several\nof his most intimate friends. I have reserved for this place one genuine\nexpression of it many years before, which I thought might be mentioned\nwith some advantage here. In July, 1725, he had been sent to some place\nnot far from Hamilton to quell a mutiny among some of our troops. I know\nnot the particular occasion; but I remember to have heard him mention it\nas so fierce a one, that he scarcely ever apprehended himself in more\nhazardous circumstances. Yet he quelled it by his presence alone, and the\nexpostulations he used--evidently putting his life into his hand to do\nit. The particulars of the story struck me much; but I do not so exactly\nremember them as to venture to relate them here. I only observe, that in\na letter dated July 16, that year, which I have now before me, and which\nevidently refers to this event, he writes thus: \"I have been very busy,\nhurried about from place to place; but, blessed be God, all is over\nwithout bloodshed. And pray let me ask what made you show so much concern\nfor me in your last? Were you afraid I should get to heaven before you?\nor can any evil befall those who are followers of that which is good?\"[*]\n\n[*Note: I doubt not but this will remind some of my readers of that noble\nspeech of Zwinglius, when (according to the usage of that country,)\nattending his flock to a battle in which their religion and liberties\nwere all at stake, on his receiving a mortal wound by a bullet, of which\nhe was expired, while his friends were in all the first astonishment of\ngrief, he bravely said, as he was dying, \"_Ecquid hoc infortunii_? Is\nthis to be reckoned a misfortune?\" How many of our Deists would have\ncelebrated such a sentence, if it had come from the lips of an ancient\nRoman! Strange that the name of Christ should be so odious, that the\nbrightest virtues of his followers should be despised for his sake! But\nso it is, and so our Master told us it would be; and our faith is, in\nthis connection, confirmed by those who strive most to overthrow it.]\n\nAs these were his sentiments in the vigour of his days, so neither did\ndeclining years and the infirmities of a broken constitution on the one\nhand, nor any desire of enjoying the honours and profits of so high\na station, or (what was much more to him,) the converse of the most\naffectionate of wives and so many amiable children and friends on the\nother, in the least enervate his spirits; but as he had in former years\noften expressed it, to me and several others, as his desire, \"that if it\nwere the will of God, he might have some honourable call to sacrifice his\nlife in defence of religion and the liberties of his country;\" so,\nwhen it appeared to him most probable that he might be called to it\nimmediately, he met the summons with the greatest readiness. This appears\nin part from a letter which he wrote to the Rev. Mr. Adams, of Falkirk,\njust as he was marching from Stirling, which was only eight days before\nhis death:--\"The rebels,\" says he, \"are advancing to cross the Frith;\nbut I trust in the Almighty God, who doth whatsoever he please in the\narmies of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth.\" The same\ngentleman tells me, that, a few days after the date of this, he marched\nthrough Falkirk with his regiment; and though he was then in so\nlanguishing a state, that he needed his assistance as secretary to write\nfor some reinforcements, which might put it in his power to make a stand,\n(as he was very desirous to have done,) he expressed a most genuine and\nnoble contempt of life, when about to be exposed in the defence of a\nworth cause.\n\nThese sentiments wrought in him to the last in the most effectual manner,\nand he seemed for a while to have infused them into the regiment which he\ncommanded; for they expressed such a spirit in their march from Stirling,\nthat I am assured the colonel was obliged to exert all his authority to\nprevent their making incursions on the rebel army, which then lay very\nnear him; and had it been thought proper to send him the reinforcements\nhe requested, none can say what the consequence might have been; but he\nwas ordered to march as fast as possible to meet Sir John Cope's forces\nat Dunbar, which he did; and that hasty retreat, in concurrence with the\nnews which they soon after received of the surrender of Edinburgh to the\nrebels, (either by the treachery or weakness of a few, in opposition to\nthe judgment of by far the greater and better part of the inhabitants,)\nstruck a panic into both the regiments of dragoons, which became visible\nin some very apparent and remarkable circumstances in their behaviour,\nwhich I forbear to relate. This affected Colonel Gardiner so much that,\non the Thursday before the fatal action of Prestonpans, he intimated to\nan officer of considerable rank and note, from whom I had it by a very\nsure channel of conveyance, that he expected the event would be as in\nfact it was. In this view, there is all imaginable reason to believe that\nhe had formed his resolution as to his own personal conduct, which was,\n\"that he would not, in cases of the flight of those under his command,\nretreat with them;\" by which, as it seemed, he was reasonably\napprehensive that he might have stained the honour of his former\nservices, and have given some occasion for the enemy to have spoken\nreproachfully. He much rather chose, if Providence gave him the call, to\nleave in his death an example of fidelity and bravery which might very\nprobably be (as in fact it seems to have been) of much greater importance\nto his country than any other service which, in the few days of remaining\nlife, he could expect to render it. I conclude these to have been his\nviews, not only from what I knew of his general character and temper, but\nlikewise from some intimations which he gave to a very worthy person from\nEdinburgh, who visited him the day before the action, and to whom he\nsaid, \"I cannot influence the conduct of others as I could wish, but I\nhave one life to sacrifice to my country's safety, and I shall not spare\nit,\"--or words to that effect.\n\nI have heard such a multitude of inconsistent reports of the\ncircumstances of Colonel Gardiner's death, that I had almost despaired of\nbeing able to give my reader any particular satisfaction concerning so\ninteresting a scene. But, by a happy accident, I have very lately had an\nopportunity of being exactly informed of the whole by that brave man, Mr.\nJohn Foster, his faithful servant, (and worthy of the honour of serving\nsuch a master,) whom I had seen with him at my house some years before.\nHe attended him in his last hours, and gave me at large the narration,\nwhich he would be ready, if requisite, to attest upon oath. From his\nmouth I wrote it down with the utmost exactness, and could easily\nbelieve, from the genuine and affectionate manner in which he related the\nparticulars, that according to his own striking expression, \"his eye and\nhis heart were always upon his honoured master during the whole time.\"[*]\n\n[*Note: Just as I am putting the last hand to these memoirs, March 2,\n1746-7, I have met with a corporal in Colonel Lascelles' regiment, who\nwas an eye-witness to what happened at Prestonpans on the day of the\nbattle, and the day before; and the account he has given me of some\nmemorable particulars is so exactly agreeable to that which I received\nfrom Mr. Foster, that it would much corroborate his testimony, if there\nwere not so many other considerations to render it convincing.]\n\nOn Friday, 20th September, (the day before the battle which transmitted\nhim to his immortal crown,) the colonel drew up his regiment in the\nafternoon, and rode through all their ranks, addressing them at once\nin the most respectful and animating manner, both as soldiers and as\nChristians, to exert themselves courageously in the service of their\ncountry, and to neglect nothing that might have a tendency to prepare\nthem for whatever might happen. They seemed much affected with the\naddress, and expressed a very ardent desire of attacking the enemy\nimmediately--a desire in which he and another very gallant officer of\ndistinguished rank, dignity, and character, both for bravery and conduct,\nwould gladly have gratified them, if it had been in their power. He\nearnestly pressed it on the commanding officer, as the soldiers were then\nin better spirits than it could be supposed they would be after having\npassed the night under arms, and as the circumstance of making an attack\nwould be some encouragement to them, and probably some terror to the\nenemy, who would have had the disadvantage of standing on the defence--a\ndisadvantage with which those wild barbarians, (for such most of them\nwere) perhaps would have been more struck than better disciplined\ntroops--especially, too, when they fought against the laws of their\ncountry. He also apprehended that, by marching to meet them, some\nadvantage might have been secured with regard to the ground, with which,\nit is natural to imagine, he must have been perfectly acquainted, as it\nlay just at his own door, and he had rode over it many hundred times.\nWhen I mention these things, I do not pretend to be capable of judging\nhow far this advice was right. A variety of circumstances to me unknown\nmight make it otherwise. It is certain, however, that it was brave. But\nit was overruled in this respect, as it also was in the disposition of\nthe cannon, which he would have planted in the centre of our small army,\nrather than just before his regiment, which was in the right wing, where\nhe was apprehensive that the horses, which had not been in any previous\nengagement, might be thrown into some disorder by the discharge so very\nnear them. He urged this the more as he thought the attack of the rebels\nmight probably be made on the centre of the foot, where he knew there\nwere some brave men, on whose standing he thought, under God, the success\nof the day depended. When he found that he could not carry either of\nthese points, nor some others which, out of regard to the common safety,\nhe insisted upon with unusual earnestness, he dropped some intimations\nof the consequences he apprehended, and which did in fact follow; and\nsubmitting to Providence, spent the remainder of the day in making as\ngood a disposition as circumstances would allow.[*]\n\n[*Note: Several of these circumstances have since been confirmed by the\nconcurrent testimony of another very credible person, Mr. Robert Douglas,\n(now a surgeon in the navy,) who was a volunteer at Edinburgh just before\nthe rebels entered the place, and who saw Colonel Gardiner come from\nHaddington to the field of battle the day before the action in a chaise,\nbeing (as from that circumstances he supposed) in so weak a state that he\ncould not well endure the fatigue of sitting on horseback. He observed\nColonel Gardiner in discourse with several officers on the evening before\nthe engagement, at which time, it was afterwards reported, he gave his\nadvice to attack the rebels; and when it was overruled, he afterwards saw\nthe colonel walk by himself in a very pensive manner.]\n\n\nHe continued all night under arms, wrapt up in his cloak, and generally\nsheltered under a rick of barley which happened to be in the field. About\nthree in the morning he called his domestic servants to him, of which\nthere were four in waiting. He dismissed three of them with most\naffectionate Christian advice, and such solemn charges relating to the\nperformance of their duty and the care of their souls, as plainly seemed\nto intimate that he at least apprehended it very probable he was taking\nhis last farewell of them. There is great reason to believe that he spent\nthe little remainder of the time, which could not be much above an hour,\nin those devout exercises of soul which had so long been habitual to him,\nand to which so many circumstances then concurred to call him.\n\nThe army was alarmed at break of day by the noise of the rebels'\napproach, and the attack was made before sunrise; yet it was light enough\nto discern what passed. As soon as the enemy came within gunshot, they\nmade a furious fire; and it is said that the dragoons, which constituted\nthe left wing, immediately fled. The colonel, at the beginning of the\nonset, which lasted but a few minutes, received a wound by a bullet in\nhis left breast, which made him give a sudden spring in his saddle; upon\nwhich his servant, who had led the horse, would have persuaded him to\nretreat; but he said it was only a wound in the flesh, and fought on,\nthough soon after he received a shot in his right thigh. In the meantime\nit was discovered that some of the enemies fell by him, particularly one\nman, who had made him a treacherous visit but a few days before, with\ngreat professions of zeal for the present establishment.\n\nEvents of this kind pass in less time than the description of them can\nbe written, or than it can be read. The colonel was for a few moments\nsupported by his men, and particularly by that worthy person,\nLieutenant-colonel Whitney, who was shot through the arm, and who, a few\nmonths after, fell nobly in the battle of Falkirk; by Lieutenant West, a\nman of distinguished bravery; also by about fifteen dragoons, who stood\nby him to the last. But, after a faint fire, the regiment was seized with\na panic; and though their colonel and some other gallant officers did\nwhat they could to rally them once or twice, they took to precipitate\nflight. Just at the moment when Colonel Gardiner seemed to be making a\npause, to deliberate what duty required him to do in such a circumstance,\nan accident happened, which must, I think, in the judgment of every\nworthy and generous man, be deemed a sufficient apology for exposing his\nlife to so great a hazard, when his regiment had left him.[*] He saw that\na party of foot, who were then bravely fighting near him, and whom he\nwas ordered to support, had no officer to head them; upon which he said\neagerly, in the hearing of the person from whom I had this account,\n\"Those brave fellows will be cut to pieces for want of a commander,\"--or\nwords to that effect. So saying, he rode up to them, and cried out aloud,\n\"Fire on, my lads, and fear nothing.\" But, just as the words were out of\nhis mouth, a Highlander advanced towards him with a scythe, fastened on\na long pole, with which he gave him such a deep wound on his right arm,\nthat his sword dropped out of his hand; and at the same time several\nothers coming about him while he was thus dreadfully entangled with that\ncruel weapon, he was dragged off his horse. The moment he fell another\nHighlander, who, if the crown witness at Carlisle may be credited, (as I\nknow not why he should not, though the unhappy creature died denying it,)\nwas one M'Naught, who was executed about a year after, gave him a stroke\neither with a broadsword or a Lochaber axe, (for my informant could not\nexactly distinguish,) on the hinder part of his head, which was the\nmortal blow. All that his faithful attendant saw further at this time\nwas, that as his hat had fallen off, he took it in his left hand, and\nwaved it as a signal to him to retreat; and added, (the last words he\never heard him speak,) \"Take care of yourself;\" upon which the servant\nretired.\n\n[*Note: The colonel, who was well acquainted with military history, might\npossibly remember that in the battle at Blenheim, the illustrious Prince\nEugene, when the horse of the wing which he commanded had run away\nthrice, charged at the head of the foot, and thereby greatly contributed\nto the glorious success of the day. At least such an example may conduce\nto vindicate that noble ardour which, amidst all the applauses of his\ncountry, some have been so cool and so critical as to blame. For my part,\nI thank God that I am not called to apologize for his following his\ntroops in their flight, which I fear would have been a much harder task;\nand which, dear as he was to me, would have grieved me much more than his\ndeath, with these heroic circumstances attending it.]\n\nIt was reported at Edinburgh, on the day of the battle, by what seemed a\nconsiderable authority, that as the colonel lay in his wounds, he said to\na chief of the opposite side, \"You are fighting for an earthly crown, I\nam going to receive a heavenly one,\"--or something to that purpose. When\nI preached the sermon, long since printed, on occasion of his death, I\nhad great reason to believe this report was true, though, before the\npublication of it, I began to be in doubt; and, on the whole, after the\nmost accurate inquiry I could possibly make at this distance, I cannot\nget any convincing evidence of it. Yet I must here observe that it does\nnot appear impossible that something of this kind might indeed be uttered\nby him, as his servant testifies that he spoke to him after receiving\nthat fatal blow, which would seem most likely to have taken away the\npower of speech, and as it is certain he lived several hours after he\nfell. If, therefore, any thing of this kind did happen, it must have been\njust before this instant. But as to the story of his being taken prisoner\nand carried to the pretended Prince, (who, by the way, afterwards\nrode his horse, and entered into Derby upon it,) with several other\ncircumstances which were grafted upon that interview, there is the most\nundoubted evidence of its falsehood; for his attendant above mentioned\nassures me that he himself immediately fled to a mill, at the distance of\nabout two miles from the spot on which the colonel fell, where he changed\nhis dress, and, disguised like a miller's servant, returned with a cart\nas soon as possible, which yet was not till nearly two hours after the\nengagement. The hurry of the action was then pretty well over, and he\nfound his much-honoured master not only plundered of his watch and other\nthings of value, but also stripped of his upper garments and boots, yet\nstill breathing; and adds, that though he was not capable of speech,\nyet, on taking him up, he opened his eyes; which makes it something\nquestionable whether he was altogether insensible. In this condition, and\nin this manner, he conveyed him to the church of Tranent, from whence he\nwas immediately taken into the minister's house, and laid in bed, where\nhe continued breathing and frequently groaning till about eleven in\nthe forenoon, when he took his final leave of pain and sorrow, and\nundoubtedly rose to those distinguished glories which are reserved for\nthose who have been eminently and remarkably faithful unto death.\n\nFrom the moment he fell, it was no longer a battle, but a rout and\ncarnage. The cruelties which the rebels (as it is generally said under\nthe command of Lord Elcho,) inflicted on some of the king's troops after\nthey had asked quarter, are dreadfully legible on the countenances of\nmany who survived it. They entered Colonel Gardiner's house before he was\ncarried off from the field, and notwithstanding the strict orders which\nthe unhappy Duke of Perth (whose conduct is said to have been very humane\nin many instances,) gave to the contrary, every thing of value was\nplundered, to the very curtains of the beds, and hangings of the rooms.\nHis papers were all thrown into the wildest disorder, and his house made\nan hospital for the reception of those who were wounded in the action.\n\nSuch was the close of a life which had been zealously devoted to God, and\nfilled up with many honourable services. Such was the death of him who\nhad been so highly favoured by God in the method by which he was brought\nback to him after so long and so great an estrangement, and in the\nprogress of so many years, during which (in the expressive phrase of the\nmost ancient of writers,) \"he had walked with him;\"--to fall, as God\nthreatened the people of his wrath that they should do, \"with tumult,\nwith shouting, and with the sound of the trumpet.\" Amos ii. 2. Several\nother very worthy, and some of them very eminent persons, shared the same\nfate, either now at the battle of Prestonpans, or quickly after at that\nof Falkirk;[*] Providence, no doubt, permitting it, to establish our\nfaith in the rewards of an invisible world, as well as to teach us to\ncease from man, and fix our dependence on an Almighty arm.\n\n[*Note: Of these, none were more memorable than those illustrious\nbrothers, Mr. Robert Munro and Dr. Munro, whose tragical but glorious fate\nwas also shared quietly after by a third hero of the family, Captain\nMunro, of Culcairn, brother to Sir Robert and the Doctor.]\n\n\nThe remains of this Christian hero (as I believe every reader is now\nconvinced he may justly be called,) were interred the Tuesday following,\nSeptember 24, in the parish church at Tranent, where he had usually\nattended divine service, with great solemnity. His obsequies were\nhonoured with the presence of some persons of distinction, who were not\nafraid of paying that mark of respect to his memory, though the country\nwas then in the hands of the enemy. But, indeed, there was no great\nhazard in this; for his character was so well known, that even they\nthemselves spoke honourably of him, and seemed to join with his friends\nin lamenting the fall of so brave and so worthy a man.\n\nThe remotest posterity will remember for whom the honour of subduing this\nunnatural and pernicious rebellion was reserved; and it will endear the\nDuke of Cumberland to all but the open or secret abettors of it in the\npresent age, and consecrate his name to immortal honours among all the\nfriends of religion and liberty who shall arise after us. And, I dare\nsay, it will not be imagined that I at all derogate from his glory in\nsuggesting, that the memory of that valiant and excellent person whose\nmemoirs I am now concluding may in some measure have contributed to that\nsignal and complete victory with which God was pleased to crown the\narms of his Royal Highness; for the force of such an example is very\nanimating, and a painful consciousness of having deserted such a\ncommander in such extremity, must at least awaken, where there was any\nspark of generosity, an earnest desire to avenge his death on those who\nhad sacrificed his blood, and that of so many other excellent persons, to\nthe views of their ambition, rapine or bigotry.\n\nThe reflections which I have made in my funeral sermon on my honoured\nfriend, and in the dedication of it to his worthy and most afflicted\nlady, supersede many things which might otherwise have properly been\nadded here. I conclude, therefore, with humbly acknowledging the wisdom\nand goodness of that awful Providence which drew so thick a gloom around\nhim in the last hours of his life, that the lustre of his virtues might\ndart through it with a more vivid and observable ray. It is abundant\nmatter of thankfulness that so signal a monument of grace, and ornament\nof the Christian profession, was raised in our age and country, and\nspared for so many honourable and useful years. Nor can all the\ntenderness of the most affectionate friendship, while its sorrows bleed\nafresh in the view of so tragical a scene, prevent my adoring the\ngracious appointment of the great Lord of all events, that when the day\nin which he must have expired without an enemy appeared so very near, the\nlast ebb of his generous blood should be poured out, as a kind of sacred\nlibation, to the liberties of his country, and the honour of his God!\nthat all the other virtues of his character, embalmed as it were by that\nprecious stream, might diffuse around a more extensive fragrance, and be\ntransmitted to the most remote posterity with that peculiar charm which\nthey cannot but derive from their connection with so gallant a fall--an\nevent (as that blessed apostle, of whose spirit he so deeply drank, has\nexpressed it) \"according to his earnest expectation, and his hope that in\nhim Christ might be glorified in all things, whether by his life or by\nhis death.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE COLONEL'S PERSONAL APPEARANCE.\n\n\nIn the midst of so many more important articles, I had really forgotten\nto say any thing of the person of Colonel Gardiner, of which,\nnevertheless, it may be proper here to add a word or two. He was, as I\nwas informed, in younger life remarkably graceful and amiable; and I\ncan easily believe it, from what I knew him to be when our acquaintance\nbegan, though he was then turned of fifty, and had gone through so many\nfatigues as well as dangers, which could not but leave some traces on his\ncountenance. He was tall, (I suppose something more than six feet,) well\nproportioned, and strongly built; his eyes of a dark gray, and not very\nlarge; his forehead pretty high; his nose of a length and height no way\nremarkable, but very well suited to his other features; his cheeks not\nvery prominent; his mouth moderately large, and his chin rather a little\ninclining (when I knew him) to be peaked. He had a strong voice and\nlively accent, with an air very intrepid, yet attempered with much\ngentleness. There was something in his manner of address most perfectly\neasy and obliging, which was in great measure the result of the great\ncandour and benevolence of his natural temper, and which, no doubt, was\nmuch improved by the deep humility which divine grace had wrought in his\nheart, as well as his having been accustomed from his early youth to the\ncompany of persons of distinguished rank and polite behaviour.\n\nThe picture of him, which is given at the beginning of these memoirs,\nwas taken from an original done by Van Deest (a Dutchman brought into\nScotland by general Wade,) in the year 1727, which was the 40th of his\nage, and is said to have been very like him then, though far from being\nan exact resemblance of what he was when I had the happiness of being\nacquainted with him.[*] Perhaps he would have appeared to the greatest\nadvantage of all, could he have been exactly drawn on horseback; as\nmany very good judges, and among the rest the celebrated Mons. Faubert\nhimself, have spoken of him as one of the completest horsemen that has\never been known; and there was indeed something so singularly graceful in\nhis appearance in that attitude, that it was sufficient (as what is very\neminent in its kind generally is,) to strike an eye not formed on any\ncritical rules.\n\n[*Note: In presenting this likeness for the first time in an American\nedition of this work, the artist has taken the liberty to change the\ncostume, by substituting the ordinary military dress for the court dress\nof the original.--_Editor of the Pres. Board of Publication_.]\n\n[Transcriber's Note: The Portrait is not available.]\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX I.\n\n\n(Referred to at the end of Chapter VI, LETTERS.)\n\nIt may not be amiss, in illustration of Dr. Doddridge's remarks on the\nsubject of dreams, to present to the reader the following account of\na remarkable dream which occurred to the Doctor himself, and had a\nbeneficial influence on his own mind.--ED. PRES. BD. PUB.\n\n\n\nDR. DODDRIDGE'S DREAM.\n\nDr. Doddridge and Dr. Samuel Clark, of St. Alban's, having been\nconversing in the evening upon the nature of the separate state, and the\nprobability that the scenes on which the soul would enter, at its first\nleaving the body, would have some resemblance to those things it had been\nconversant with while on earth, that it might by degrees be prepared\nfor the more sublime happiness of the heavenly state, this and other\nconversation of the same kind probably occasioned the following dream.\n\nThe Doctor imagined himself dangerously ill at a friend's house in\nLondon, and after remaining in this state for some hours, he thought his\nsoul left his body, and took its flight in some kind of a fine vehicle,\nthough very different from the gross body it had just quitted, but still\nmaterial. He pursued his course through the air, expecting some celestial\nmessenger to meet him, till he was at some distance from the city,\nwhen turning back and viewing the town, he could not forbear saying to\nhimself, \"How vain do those affairs in which the inhabitants of this\nplace are so eagerly employed, seem to me a separate spirit!\" At length,\nas he was continuing his progress, though without any certain directions,\nyet easy and happy in the thoughts of the universal providence and\ngovernment of God, which extends alike to all states and worlds, he was\nnow met by one who told him he was sent to conduct him to this destined\nstate of abode, from which he concluded it was an angel, though he\nappeared in the form of an elderly man. They accordingly advanced\ntogether, till they came within sight of a large spacious building,\nwhich had the air of a palace. Upon his inquiring what it was, his guide\nreplied, it was the place assigned for him at present; upon which the\nDoctor wondered that he had read on earth, \"that eye had not seen, nor\near had heard, the glory laid up for them that love God,\" when he could\neasily have formed an idea of such a building, from others he had seen,\nthough he acknowledged they were greatly inferior to this in elegance and\nmagnificence. The answer, his guide told him, was plainly suggested by\nthe conversation of the evening before, and that the scenes presented to\nhim were purposely contrived to bear a near resemblance to those he had\nbeen accustomed to on earth, that his mind might be more easily and\ngradually prepared for those glories which would open upon him hereafter,\nand which would at first have quite dazzled and overpowered him. By this\ntime they came to the palace, and his guide led him through a kind of\nsaloon into an inner parlour. The first object that struck him was a\ngreat golden cup which stood upon a table, on which was embossed the\nfigure of a vine and clusters of grapes. He asked his guide the meaning\nof it; who told him that it was the cup in which his Saviour drank new\nwine with his disciples in his kingdom; and that the figures carved on it\ndenoted the union between Christ and his Church, implying, that as the\ngrapes derived all their beauty and flavour from the vine, so the saints,\neven in a state of glory, were indebted for their establishment in\nholiness and happiness, to their union with their common Head, in whom\nthey are all complete. While they were conversing, he heard a tap at the\ndoor, and was informed by the angel that it was a signal of his Lord's\napproach, and was intended to prepare him for an interview. Accordingly,\nin a short time our Saviour entered the room, and upon his casting\nhimself at his feet, he graciously raised him up, and with a smile of\ninexpressible complacency, assured him of his favour, and kind acceptance\nof his faithful services, and as a token of his peculiar regard, and the\nintimate friendship with which he intended to honour him, he took the\ncup, and after drinking of it himself, gave it into the Doctor's hand.\nThe Doctor would have declined it at first, as too great an honour; but\nour Lord replied, as to Peter in washing his feet, \"If thou drinkest not\nwith me, thou hast no part with me.\" This he observed filled him with\nsuch a transport of gratitude, love and admiration, that he was ready to\nsink under it. His master seemed sensible of this, and told him he must\nleave him for the present, but would not be long before he repeated\nhis visit. As soon as our Lord was retired, and the Doctor's mind more\ncomposed, he observed that the room was hung with pictures, and upon\nexamining them, he found to his great surprise, that they contained\nall the history of his life; and most remarkable scenes he had passed\nthrough, being there represented in a very lively manner--the many\ntemptations and trials he had been exposed to, and the signal instances\nof the divine goodness in the different periods of his life. It may not\nbe easily imagined how this would strike and affect his mind. It excited\nin him the strongest emotions of gratitude, especially when he reflected\nthat he was now out of the reach of any future danger, and that all the\npurposes of divine love towards him were so amply accomplished. The\nexstacy of joy and gratitude, into which these reflections threw him, was\nso great that he awoke; but for some time after he awoke the impression\ncontinued so lively that tears of joy flowed down his cheeks, and he said\nthat he never, on any occasion, remembered to have had sentiments of\ndevotion and love equal to it.\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX II.\n\n\n(Referred to in Chapter VII, DOMESTIC RELATIONS.)\n\nThe following extract from Dr. Doddridge's \"Thoughts on Sacramental\nOccasions,\" gives a beautiful and edifying picture of the exercises of\nhis affectionate and pious heart under a painful bereavement.\n\n\n\nTHE SEVENTY-EIGHTH SACRAMENT, OCTOBER 3, 1736.\n\nDEAR BETSEY DEAD.[1]\n\nI had preached in the bitterness of my heart from these words: \"Is it\nwell with thy husband? is it well with the child? And she answered, It is\nwell.\" 2 Kings iv. 26. I endeavoured to show the reason there was to say\nthis; but surely there was never any dispensation of Providence in which\nI found it so hard, for my very soul had been overwhelmed within me.\nIndeed, some hard thoughts of the mercy of God were ready to arise; and\nthe apprehension of his heavy displeasure, and the fear of my child's\nfuture state, added fuel to the fire.\n\nUpon the whole, my mind was in the most painful agitation; but it pleased\nGod, that, in composing the sermon, my soul became quieted, and I was\nbrought into a more silent and cordial submission to the Divine will.\n\nAt the table I discoursed on these words, \"Although my house be not so\nwith God.\" 2 Samuel xxiii. 5. I observed, that domestic calamities may\nbefall good men in their journey through life, and particularly in\nrelation to their children; but that they have a refuge in God's\ncovenant; it is everlasting; it is sure; it is well ordered--every\nprovision is made according to our necessities; and shall be our\nsalvation, as it is the object of our most affectionate regard.\n\nOne further circumstance I must record; and that is, that I here solemnly\nrecollected that I had, in a former sacrament taken the cup with these\nwords, \"Lord, I take this cup as a public and solemn token that I will\nrefuse no other cup which thou shalt put into my hand.\" I mentioned this\nrecollection, and charged it publicly on myself and my Christian friends.\nGod has taken me at my word, but I do not retract it; I repeat it again\nwith regard to every future cup.\n\nI am just come from the coffin of my dear child, who seemes to be sweetly\nasleep there, with a serene, composed, delightful countenance, once how\nanimated with double life! There--lo! O my soul! lo there! is thine idol\nlaid still in death--the creature which stood next to God in thine heart;\nto whom it was opened with a fond and flattering delight. Methinks I\nwould learn to be dead with her--dead to the world. Oh that I could be\ndead with her, not any further than that her dear memory may promote my\nliving to God.[*]\n\n[*Note: The following note was written in the margin of the manuscript by\nthe late Rev. Thomas Stedman: \"I think I have heard that the doctor wrote\nhis funeral sermon for his daughter, or a part of it, upon her coffin.\"]\n\nI had a great deal of very edifying, conversation last night and his\nmorning with my wife, whose wisdom does indeed make her face to shine\nunder this affliction. She is supported and armoured with a courage which\nseems not at all natural to her; talks with the utmost freedom, and has\nreally said many of the most useful things that ever were said to me by\nany person upon the earth, both as to consolation and admonition. Had\nthe best things I have read on the subject been collected together, they\ncould hardly have been better conceived or better expressed. This is\nto me very surprising when I consider her usual reserve. I have all\nimaginable reason to believe that God will make this affliction a great\nblessing to her, and I hope it may prove so to me. There was a fond\ndelight and complacence which I took in Betsey beyond any thing living.\nAlthough she had not a tenth part of that rational, manly love, which I\npay to her mourning and many surviving friends; yet it leaves a peculiar\npain upon my heart, and it is almost as if my very gall were poured\nout upon the earth. Yet much sweetness mingles itself with this bitter\npotion, chiefly in the view and hope of my speedy removal to the eternal\nworld. May it not be the bounty of this providence, that instead of her\nliving many years upon the earth, God may have taken away my child that I\nmight be fitted for and reconciled to my own dissolution, perhaps nearly\napproaching? I verily believe that I shall meet her there, and enjoy much\nmore of her in heaven than I should have done had she survived me on\nearth. Lord, thy will be done; may my life be used for the service while\ncontinued, and then put thou a period to it whenever thou pleasest.\n\n[Footnote 1: The following extract from the Diary of Dr. Doddridge is\nhere subjoined, as affording an explanation of some particulars alluded\nto in the text.\n\n\n\nREFLECTIONS ON THE DEATH OF MY DEAR CHILD, AND THE MANY MOURNFUL\nPROVIDENCES ATTENDING IT.\n\nI have a great deal of reason to condemn my own negligence and folly,\nthat for so many months I have suffered no memorandums of what has passed\nbetween God and my soul, although some of the transactions were very\nremarkable, as well as some things which I have heard concerning others;\nbut the subject of this article is the most melancholy of any. We lost my\ndear and reverend brother and friend, Mr. Sanders, on the 31st of July\nlast; on the 1st of September, Lady Russell--that invaluable friend, died\nat Reading on her road from Bath; and on Friday, the 1st of October, God\nwas pleased, by a most awful stroke, to take away my eldest, dearest\nchild, my lovely Betsey. She was formed to strike my affections in the\nmost powerful manner; such a person, genius, and temper, as I admired\neven beyond their real importance, so that indeed I doted upon her, and\nwas for many months before her death in a great degree of bondage upon\nher account. She was taken ill at Newport about the middle of June, and\nfrom thence to the day of her death, she was my continual thought, and\nalmost uninterrupted care. God only knows with what earnestness and\nimportunity I prostrated myself before him to beg her life, which I would\nhave been willing almost to have purchased with my own. When reduced to\nthe lowest degree of languishment by a consumption, I could not forbear\nlooking upon her almost every hour. I saw her with the strongest mixture\nof anguish and delight; no chemist ever watched his crucible with greater\ncare, when he expected the production of the philosopher's stone, than I\nwatched her in all the various turns of her distemper, which at last grew\nutterly hopeless, and then no language can express the agony into which\nit threw me. One remarkable circumstance I cannot but recollect: in\npraying most affectionately, perhaps too earnestly, for her life, these\nwords came into my mind with great power, \"Speak no more to me of this\nmatter.\" I was unwilling to take them, and went into the chamber to see\nmy dear lamb, when, instead of receiving me with her usual tenderness,\nshe looked upon me with a stern air, and said, with a very remarkable\ndetermination of voice, \"I have no more to say to you;\" and I think that\nfrom that time, although she lived at least ten days, she seldom looked\nupon me with pleasure, or cared to suffer me to come near her. But that\nI might feel all the bitterness of the affliction, Providence so ordered\nit, that I came in when her sharpest agonies were upon her, and those\nwords, \"O dear, O dear, what shall I do?\" rung in my ears for succeeding\nhours and days. But God delivered her,--and she, without any violent pang\nin the article of her dissolution, quietly and sweetly fell asleep, as I\nhope, in Jesus, about ten at night, I being then at Maidwell. When I came\nhome my mind was under a dark cloud relating to the eternal state; but\nGod was pleased graciously to remove it, and gave me comfortable hopes,\nafter having felt the most heart-rending sorrow. My dear wife bore the\naffliction in the most glorious manner, and discovered more wisdom, and\npiety, and steadiness of temper in a few days, than I had ever in six\nyears an opportunity of observing before. O my soul, God has blasted thy\ngourd; thy greatest earthly delight is gone: seek it in heaven, where I\nhope this dear babe is; where I am sure that my Saviour is; and where I\ntrust, through grace, notwithstanding all this irregularity of temper and\nof heart, that I shall shortly be.\n\nSunday, October 3, 1736\n\n\n\nFURTHER REFLECTIONS AFTER THE FUNERAL OF MY DEAR BETSEY.\n\nI have now been laying the delight of my eyes in the dust, and it is\nfor ever hidden from them. My heart was too full to weep much. We had a\nsuitable sermon from these words: \"Doest thou well to be angry?\" Jonah\niv. 9; because of the gourd. I hope God knows that I am not angry; but\nsorrowful he surely allows me to be. I could have wished that more had\nbeen said concerning the hope we may have of our child; and it was a\ngreat disappointment to me that nothing of that kind should have been\nsaid by one that loved her so well as my brother Hunt did. Yet, I bless\nGod, I have my hopes that she is lodged in the arms of Christ. And there\nwas an occurrence that I took much notice of; I was most earnestly\npraying that God would be pleased to give me some further encouragement\non this head, by letting some new light, or by directing me to some\nfurther thoughts upon the subject. Soon after, as I came into my wife's\nchamber, she told me that our maid Betty, who had indeed the affection\nof a parent for my dear girl, had just before assured her, that, on the\nSabbath day evening, Betsey would be repeating to herself some things of\nwhat she had heard in my prayers and in my preachings, but did not\ncare to talk of it to others; and my wife assured me that she solemnly\nrecommended herself to God in the words that I had taught her a little\nbefore she died. Blessed God, hast thou not received her? I trust that\nthou hast, and pardoned the infirmities of her poor, short, childish,\nafflicted life. I hope, in some measure out of love to me, as thy\nservant, thou hast done it, for Christ's sake; and I would consider the\nvery hope, as an engagement to thy future service. Lord, I love those who\nwere kind to my child, and wept with me for her; shall I not much more\nlove thee, who, I hope, art at this moment taking care of her, and\nopening her infant faculties for the duties and blessedness of heaven.\n\nLord, I would consider myself as a dying creature. My first born is\ngone;--my beloved child is laid in bed before me. I have often followed\nher to her bed in a literal sense; and shortly I shall follow her to\nthat, where we shall lie down together, and our rest shall be together\nin the dust. In a literal sense the grave is ready for me. My grave is\nmade--I have looked into it--a dear part of myself is already there; and\nwhen I stood at the Lord's table I stood directly over it. It is some\npleasure to me to think that my dust will be lodged near that of my dear\nlamb, how much more to hope that my soul will rest with hers, and rejoice\nin her forever! But, O, let me not centre my thoughts even here; it is\nat rest with, and in God, that is my ultimate hope. Lord, may thy grace\nsecure it to me! and in the mean time give me some holy acquiescence of\nsoul in thee; and although my gourd be withered, yet shelter me under the\nshadow of thy wings.\n\nOctober 4, 1736.]","title":"The Life of Col. James Gardiner: Who Was Slain at the Battle of Prestonpans, September 21, 1745","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":48928}