{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_62529/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_62529","id":"gutenberg_62529","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62529","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Biographies","Category: History - British","Category: History - Warfare","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Converts -- Great Britain -- Biography","Gardiner, James, 1688-1745"],"text":"Transcribed from the 1800\u2019s Religious Tract Society edition, by David\nPrice, email ccx074@pglaf.org\n\n                             [Picture: Cover]\n\n                                                                   No. 17.\n\n\n\n\n\n                                 THE LIFE\n                                    OF\n                           COL. JAMES GARDINER.\n\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n              THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY, INSTITUTED 1799;\n                     DEPOSITORY, 56, PATERNOSTER-ROW.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nCOLONEL JAMES GARDINER was the son of Captain Patrick Gardiner, who\nserved many years in the armies of King William and Queen Anne, and died\nabroad with the British forces in Germany.\n\nThe Colonel\u2019s mother was a lady of very excellent character; but it\npleased God to exercise her with uncommon trials; for she lost not only\nher husband and her brother in the service of their country, but also her\neldest son, Mr. R. Gardiner, on the day which completed his sixteenth\nyear, at the siege of Namur, in 1695.  But God blessed these afflictions\nas the means of forming her to an eminent degree of piety.\n\nThe second son, the subject of this Memoir, was born in Linlithgowshire,\nJan. 10, 1687\u20138, the memorable year of the glorious Revolution, in\ndefence of which his own life was eventually sacrificed.\n\nIn early life, his mother took care to instruct him with great tenderness\nand affection in the principles of true Christianity.  While at the\nschool at Linlithgow, he made a considerable progress in literature.\n\nIn the younger part of his life the good effects of his mother\u2019s prudent\nand exemplary care were not so conspicuous as she hoped; yet there is\ngreat reason to believe they were not entirely lost.  Could she have\nprevailed, he would not have thought of a military life; but it suited\nhis taste; and the ardour of his spirit, animated by the persuasions of a\nfriend, who greatly urged it, was not to be restrained.  Nor will the\nreader wonder at this, when he knows that this lively youth fought three\nduels before he attained the stature of a man; in one of which, when but\neight years old, he received from a boy, much older than himself, a wound\nin the right cheek, the scar of which was always very apparent.  This\nfalse sense of honour might seem excusable in those unripened years, and\nconsidering the profession of his father; but he often mentioned it with\nregret.  And after his conversion, he declined accepting a challenge,\nwith this truly great reply, which in a man of his experienced bravery\nwas exceedingly to be admired, \u201cI fear sinning,\u201d said he, \u201cthough you\nknow I do not fear fighting.\u201d\n\nHe served as a cadet very early: and at fourteen years old, he bore an\nensign\u2019s commission in a Scotch regiment in the Dutch service; in which\nhe continued till 1702, when he received an ensign\u2019s commission from\nQueen Anne, which he bore in the battle of Ramilies, in his nineteenth\nyear.\n\nOn this occasion, our young officer was commanded on what seemed almost a\ndesperate service, to dispossess the French of the church-yard at\nRamilies, where a considerable number of them were posted to remarkable\nadvantage.  They succeeded better than was expected, and Mr. G. was glad\nof such an opportunity of signalizing himself.  Accordingly, he had\nplanted his colours on an advanced ground, and while he was calling to\nthe men (probably in that horrid language which is so peculiar a disgrace\nto our soldiery) he received a shot in his mouth, which, without beating\nout any of his teeth, or touching the forepart of his tongue, went\nthrough his neck.  Not feeling at first the pain of the stroke, he\nwondered what was become of the ball, and in the wildness of his surprise\nbegan to suspect he had swallowed it; but dropping soon after, he traced\nthe passage of it by his finger, when he could discover it no other way.\n\nThis accident happened about five or six in the evening, on the 23d of\nMay, in the year 1706; and the army pursuing its advantages against the\nFrench, without regarding the wounded, our young officer lay all night in\nthe field, agitated, as may well be supposed, with a great variety of\nthoughts.  When he reflected upon the circumstances of his wound, that a\nball should, as he then conceived it, go through his head without killing\nhim, he thought God had preserved him by a miracle; and therefore\nassuredly concluded, that he should live, abandoned and desperate as his\ncondition then seemed.  Yet had he little thought of humbling himself\nbefore God, and returning to Him after the wanderings of a life\nlicentiously begun.  But, expecting to recover, his mind was taken up\nwith contrivances to secure his gold, of which he had nearly twenty\npistoles about him; and he had recourse to a very odd expedient.\nExpecting to be stripped, he took out a handful of clotted gore, of which\nhe was frequently obliged to clear his mouth; and putting it into his\nleft hand, he took out the money, and shutting his hand, besmeared the\nback of it with blood; in this position he kept it till the blood so\ndried, that his hand could not easily fall open.\n\nIn the morning, the French, who were masters of that spot, though\ndefeated at some distance, came to plunder the slain, and seeing him to\nappearance almost expiring, one of them was just applying a sword to his\nbreast to destroy the little remainder of life; when, in the critical\nmoment, a cordelier, who attended them, interposed, taking him by his\ndress for a Frenchman, and said, \u201cDo not kill the poor child.\u201d  Our young\nsoldier heard all that passed, though he was not able to speak one word;\nand opening his eyes made a sign for something to drink.  They gave him a\nsup of some spirituous liquor, which happened to be at hand; from which\nhe said he derived a more sensible refreshment than he could remember\nfrom any thing he had tasted either before or since.  Then, asking, by\nsigns, the friar to lean down his ear to his mouth, he employed the first\nefforts of his feeble breath in telling him (what, alas! was a contrived\nfalsehood) that he was nephew to the governor of Huy, a neutral town in\nthe neighbourhood, and that, if they could convey him thither, he did not\ndoubt but his uncle would liberally reward them.  He had indeed a friend\nthere, but the relationship was pretended.  However, on hearing this,\nthey laid him on a sort of hand-barrow, and sent him with a file of\nmusketeers towards the place; but the men lost their way, and got into a\nwood towards the evening, in which they were obliged to continue all\nnight.  The poor patient\u2019s wound being still undressed, it is not to be\nwondered at, that by this time it raged violently.  The anguish of it\nengaged him earnestly to beg that they would either kill him outright, or\nleave him there to die, without the torture of any other motion; and\nindeed they were obliged to rest for a considerable time on account of\ntheir own weariness.  Thus he spent the second night in the open air,\nwithout any thing more than a common bandage to stanch the blood; and he\noften mentioned it as a most astonishing providence, that he did not\nbleed to death.\n\nJudging it quite unsafe to attempt carrying him to Huy, whence they were\nnow several miles distant, his convoy took him early in the morning to a\nconvent in the neighbourhood; where he was hospitably received, and\ntreated with great kindness and tenderness.  But the cure of his wound\nwas committed to an ignorant barber-surgeon, who lived near the house.\nThe tent which this artist applied, was almost like a peg driven into the\nwound; yet, by the blessing of God, he recovered in a few months.  The\nlady abbess, who called him her son treated him with the affection and\ncare of a mother.  He received a great many devout admonitions from the\nladies there, and they would fain have persuaded him to acknowledge so\nmiraculous a deliverance, by embracing the _Catholic Faith_, as they were\npleased to call it.  But, though no religion lay near his heart, he had\ntoo much the spirit of a gentleman, lightly to change that form of\nreligion which he wore loose about him.\n\nWhen his liberty was regained by an exchange of prisoners, and his health\nestablished, he was far from rendering to the Lord according to the mercy\nhe had experienced.  Very little is known of the particulars of those\nwild and thoughtless years which lay between the nineteenth and thirtieth\nof his life; except that he experienced the divine goodness in preserving\nhim in several hot military actions; and yet these years were spent in an\nentire alienation from God, and an eager pursuit of sensual pleasure as\nhis supreme good.\n\nAmidst all these wanderings from religion, virtue, and happiness, he\napproved himself so well in his military character, that he was made a\nlieutenant in 1708; and, after several intermediate promotions, appointed\nmajor of a regiment commanded by the Earl of Stair.  In January, 1729\u201330,\nhe was advanced to the rank of lieutenant-colonel in the same regiment:\nand here continued till April, 1743; when he received a colonel\u2019s\ncommission over a regiment of dragoons; and at the head of which he\nvaliantly fell about two years and a half after he received it.\n\nWe now return to that period of his life which passed at Paris, where he\nresided in the family of the Earl of Stair, with some interruptions, till\nabout the year 1720.\n\nThe Earl\u2019s favour and generosity made him easy in his affairs, though he\nwas part of the time out of commission, the regiment to which he belonged\nbeing disbanded.  This was, in all probability, the gayest part of his\nlife, and the most criminal.  Whatever good examples he might find in the\nfamily where he lived, it is certain that the French court was one of the\nmost dissolute under heaven.  What, by a wretched abuse of language, have\nbeen called intrigues of love and gallantry, constituted, if not the\nwhole business, at least the whole pleasure of his life: his fine\nconstitution, than which, perhaps, there was hardly ever a better, gave\nhim great opportunities of indulging himself in those excesses; and his\ngood spirits enabled him to pursue his pleasures in such a manner, that\nmultitudes envied him, and called him, by a dreadful kind of compliment,\n\u201cThe happy rake.\u201d\n\nYet the checks of conscience, and some remaining principles of so good an\neducation, would break in upon his most licentious hours; and when some\nof his dissolute companions were once congratulating him upon his\nfelicity, a dog happening at that time to come into the room, he could\nnot forbear groaning inwardly, and saying to himself, \u201cO that I were that\ndog!\u201d  Such was then his happiness, and such perhaps is that of hundreds\nmore, who bear themselves highest in the contempt of religion, and glory\nin that infamous servitude, which they affect to call liberty.\n\nYet in the most abandoned days, he was never fond of intemperate\ndrinking, from which he used to think a manly pride might be sufficient\nto preserve persons of sense and spirit; so that if he ever fell into any\nexcesses of that kind, it was merely out of complaisance.  His frank,\nobliging, and generous temper, procured him many friends; and those\nprinciples, which rendered him amiable to others, not being under the\ndirection of wisdom and piety, sometimes made him more uneasy to himself\nthan he perhaps might have been if he could entirely have outgrown them,\nespecially as he was never a confirmed sceptic, but still retained a\nsecret apprehension, that natural and revealed religion was founded in\ntruth.  With this conviction, his notorious violation of the most\nessential precepts of both, could not but occasion some secret misgivings\nof heart.\n\nHis continual neglect of the great Author of his being, 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\nother Scriptures, which he still retained in his memory; and owning, in a\nfew strong words, the many mercies and deliverances he had received, and\nthe ill-returns he had made for them.\n\nBut these strains were too devout to continue long in a heart as yet\nunsanctified: for how readily soever he could repeat such acknowledgments\nof the divine power and goodness, and confess his own follies and faults,\nhe was stopt short by the remonstrances of his conscience, as to the\nflagrant absurdity of confessing sins he did not desire to forsake, and\nof pretending to praise God for his mercies, when he did not endeavour to\nlive to his service.  A model of devotion, where such sentiments made no\npart, his good sense could not digest; and the use of such language\nbefore a heart-searching God merely as a hypocritical form, while the\nsentiments of his soul were contrary to it, appeared to him such daring\nprofaneness, that, irregular as the state of his mind was, the thought of\nit struck him with horror.  He therefore determined to make no more\nattempts of this sort; and was one of the first that deliberately laid\naside prayer, from some sense of God\u2019s omniscience, and some natural\nprinciple of honour and conscience.\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 still harder.  Neither was it softened, or awakened, by the very\nmemorable deliverances, which at this time he received.  Once he was in\nextreme danger by a fall from his horse.  As he was riding fast down a\nhill, the horse threw him over his head, and pitched over him; so that\nwhen he rose, the beast lay beyond him, and almost dead.  Yet, though he\nreceived not the least harm, it made no serious impression on his mind.\nIn his return from England in the packet-boat, but a few weeks after the\nformer accident, a violent storm, that drove them up to Harwich, tossed\nthem from thence for several hours, in a dark night, on the coast of\nHolland; and brought them into such extremity, that the captain of the\nvessel urged him to go to prayers immediately if he ever intended to do\nit at all; for he concluded they would in a few minutes be at the bottom\nof the sea.  In these circumstances he did pray, and that very fervently\ntoo; and it was remarkable, that while he was crying to God for\ndeliverance, the wind fell, and quickly after they arrived at Calais.\nBut the major was so little affected with what had befallen him, that,\nwhen some of his gay friends, on hearing the story, rallied him upon the\nefficacy of his prayers, he excused himself from the scandal of being\nthought much in earnest, by saying, \u201cthat it was at midnight, an hour\nwhen his good mother and aunt were asleep; or else he should have left\nthat part of the business to them.\u201d\n\nWe now come to the account of his conversion.  This memorable event\nhappened towards the middle of July, 1719.  The major had spent the\nevening (which was the Sabbath) in some gay company, and had an unhappy\nassignation with a married lady, whom he was to attend exactly at twelve.\nThe company broke up about eleven; and he went into his chamber to kill\nthe tedious hour.  It happened that he took up a religious book, (which\nhis good mother or aunt had, without his knowledge, slipped into his\nportmanteau,) called, \u201cThe Christian Soldier; or Heaven taken by Storm:\u201d\nwritten by Mr. Thomas Watson.  Guessing, by the title, that he should\nfind some phrases of his own profession spiritualized, in a manner which\nmight afford him some diversion, he resolved to dip into it, but took no\nserious notice of any thing he read; and yet while this book was in his\nhand, an impression was made upon his mind (perhaps God only knows how)\nwhich drew after it a train of the most important and happy consequences.\n\nSuddenly he thought he saw an unusual blaze of light fall on the book,\nwhile he was reading, which he at first imagined might have happened by\nsome accident in the candle.  But lifting up his eyes, he apprehended to\nhis extreme amazement, that there was before him, as it were suspended in\nthe air, a visible representation of the Lord JESUS CHRIST upon the\ncross, surrounded with a glory; and was impressed as if a voice, or\nsomething equivalent to a voice, had come to him to this effect: \u201cOh,\nsinner, did I suffer this for thee, and are these the returns?\u201d  But\nwhether this were an audible voice, or only a strong impression on his\nmind equally striking, he did not seem confident, though he judged it to\nbe the former.  Struck with so amazing a phenomenon, there remained\nhardly any life in him, so that he sank down in the arm-chair in which he\nsat, and continued, (he knew not exactly how long) insensible, and when\nhe opened his eyes saw nothing more than usual.\n\nIt may be easily supposed he was in no condition to make any observation\nupon the time during which he remained insensible; nor did he throughout\nall the remainder of the night once recollect that criminal assignation\nwhich had before engrossed all his thoughts.  He arose in a tumult of\npassions not to be conceived, and walked to and fro in his chamber, till\nhe was ready to drop down, in unutterable astonishment and agony of\nheart; appearing to himself the vilest monster in the creation of God,\nwho had all his lifetime been crucifying Christ afresh by his sins, and\nnow saw, as he assuredly believed, by a miraculous vision, the horror of\nwhat he had done.  With this was connected such a view both of the\nmajesty and goodness of God as caused him to loathe and abhor himself,\nand to \u201crepent as in dust and ashes.\u201d  He immediately gave judgment\nagainst himself that he was worthy of eternal damnation; was astonished\nthat he had not been immediately struck dead in the midst of his\nwickedness; and, (which deserves particular remark,) though he assuredly\nbelieved that he should ere long be in hell, and settled it as a point\nwith himself for some months, that the wisdom and justice of God did most\nnecessarily require that such an enormous sinner should be made an\nexample of everlasting vengeance, and a spectacle, as such, both to\nangels and men, so that he hardly durst presume to pray for pardon; yet\nwhat he then suffered, was not so much from the fear of hell, though he\nconcluded it must soon be his portion, as from a sense of that horrible\ningratitude he had shown to the God of his life, and to that blessed\nRedeemer who had been, in so affecting a manner, set forth as crucified\nbefore him.\n\nIn this view it may naturally be inferred, 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 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, lay with an almost insupportable weight on his mind; and the\nfolly of that career of sinful pleasure, which he had so many years been\nrunning with desperate eagerness, filled him with indignation against\nhimself, and against the great deceiver, by whom (to use his own phrase)\nhe had been \u201cso wretchedly and scandalously befooled.\u201d\n\nThe mind of major Gardiner continued from this remarkable time, rather\nmore than three months, (but especially the two first of them,) in as\nextraordinary a situation as one can well imagine.  He knew nothing of\nthe joys arising from a sense of pardon; but, on the contrary, for the\ngreater part of that time, and with very short intervals of hope towards\nthe end of it, took it for granted, that he must, in all probability,\nquickly perish.  Nevertheless, he had such a sense of the evil of sin,\nthe goodness of the Divine Being, and of the admirable tendency of the\nChristian Revelation, that he resolved to spend the remainder of his\nlife, while God continued him out of hell, in as rational and useful a\nmanner as he could; and to continue casting himself at the feet of Divine\nMercy every day, and _often_ in a day, if peradventure there might be\nhope of pardon, of which all that he could say was, that he did not\nabsolutely despair.  He had at that time such a sense of the degeneracy\nof his own heart, that he hardly durst form any determinate resolution\nagainst sin, or pretend to engage himself by any vow in the presence of\nGod; but was continually crying to him, that he would deliver him from\nthe bondage of corruption.  He perceived within himself a most surprising\nalteration with regard to the dispositions of his heart; so that though\nhe felt little of the delight of religious duties, he extremely desired\nopportunities of being engaged in them; and those licentious pleasures,\nwhich had before been his heaven, were now absolutely his aversion; and\nhe was grieved to see human nature, even in those to whom he was a\nstranger, prostituted to such low and contemptible pursuits.  He\ntherefore exerted his natural courage in a new kind of combat, and became\nan open advocate for religion, in all its principles, so far as he was\nacquainted with them, and all its precepts, relating to sobriety,\nrighteousness, and godliness.  Yet he was very desirous and cautious,\nthat he might not run into an extreme; and made it one of his first\npetitions to God, the very day after these amazing impressions had been\nwrought in his mind, that he might not be suffered to behave with such an\naffected strictness and preciseness, as would lead others about him into\nmistaken notions of religion, and expose it to reproach or suspicion, as\nif it were an unlovely or uncomfortable thing.  For this reason, he\nendeavoured to appear as cheerful in conversation as he conscientiously\ncould; though in spite of all his precautions, some traces of that deep\ninward sense which he had of his guilt and misery would at times appear.\nHe made no secret of it, however, that his views were entirely changed,\nthough he concealed the particular circumstances attending that change.\nHe told his most intimate companions freely, that he had reflected on the\ncourse of life in which he had so long joined them, and found it to be\nfolly and madness, unworthy a rational creature, and much more unworthy\npersons calling themselves Christians.  And he set up his standard, upon\nall occasions, against infidelity and vice, as determinately as ever he\nplanted his colours in the field.  There was at that time in Paris a\ncertain lady who had imbibed the principles of Deism, and valued herself\nmuch upon being an avowed advocate for them.  The major, with his usual\nfrankness, (though with that politeness which was habitual to him,)\nanswered like a man who perfectly saw through the fallacy of her\narguments, and was grieved to the heart for her delusion.  On this she\nchallenged him to debate the matter at large, and to fix upon a day for\nthat purpose, when he should dine with her, attended with any clergyman\nhe might choose.  A sense of duty would not allow him to decline this\nchallenge: and yet he had no sooner accepted it than he was thrown into\ngreat perplexity and distress, lest being only a Christian of six weeks\nold, he should prejudice so good a cause, by his unskilful manner of\ndefending it.  However, he sought his refuge in earnest and repeated\nprayers to God, that he would graciously enable him, on this occasion, to\nvindicate his truths in a manner which might carry conviction along with\nit.  He then endeavoured to marshal the arguments in his own mind, as\nwell as he could; and apprehending that he could not speak with so much\nfreedom before a number of persons, especially before such whose province\nhe might in that case seem to invade, he waited on the lady alone upon\nthe day appointed.\n\nThe major opened the conference with a view of such arguments of the\nChristian religion as he had digested in his own mind, to prove that the\napostles were not mistaken themselves, and that they could not have\nintended to impose upon us, in the accounts they give of the grand facts\nthey attest; with the truth of which facts that of the Christian religion\nis most apparently connected.  And it was a great encouragement to him to\nfind, that, unaccustomed as he was to discourses of this nature, he had\nan unusual command both of thought and expression; so that he recollected\nand uttered every thing as he could have wished.  The lady heard with\nattention, till he had finished his design, and waited for her reply.\nShe then produced some of her objections, which he canvassed in such a\nmanner, that at length she burst out into tears, allowed the force of his\narguments and replies, and appeared, for some time after, so deeply\nimpressed with the conversation, that it was observed by several of her\nfriends: and there is reason to believe that the impression continued, at\nleast so far as to prevent her from ever appearing under the character of\nan unbeliever or a sceptic.  This is only one, among many of the battles\nhe was almost daily called out to fight in the cause of religion and\nvirtue.  The continued railleries with which he was received, in almost\nall companies where he had been most familiar before, did often distress\nhim beyond measure; so that he declared, he would much rather have\nmarched up to a battery of the enemy\u2019s cannon than have been obliged, so\ncontinually as he was, to face such artillery as this.  But, like a brave\nsoldier in the first action wherein he is engaged, he continued resolute,\nthough shuddering at the terror of the assault; and quickly overcame\nthose impressions, which it is not, perhaps, in nature wholly to avoid.\nIn a word, he went on, as every Christian by divine grace may do, till he\nturned ridicule and opposition into respect and veneration.\n\nWithin about two months after his first memorable change he began to\nperceive some secret dawnings of more cheerful hope\u2014that, vile as he then\nsaw himself to be, he might nevertheless obtain mercy through a Redeemer;\nand at length about the end of October, 1719, he found all the burden of\nhis mind taken off at once by the powerful impression of that memorable\nscripture upon his mind; (Rom. iii. 25, 26.) \u201cWhom God hath set forth for\na propitiation through faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness\nfor the remission of sins\u2014that he might be just, and the justifier of him\nthat believeth in Jesus.\u201d\n\nHe had used to imagine, that the justice of God required the damnation of\nso enormous 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 from all sin.  He was led to see the riches of redeeming love\nand grace, in such a manner as not only engaged him, with the utmost\npleasure and confidence, to venture his soul upon them; but even\nswallowed up (as it were) his whole heart in the returns of love, which,\nfrom that blessed time, became the genuine and delightful principle of\nobedience, and animated him, with an enlarged heart, to run the ways of\nGod\u2019s 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 turned into unutterable joy.  And though the first ecstasies of it\nafterwards subsided into a more calm and composed delight; yet were the\nimpressions so deep and so permanent, that he declared, on the word of a\nChristian and a friend, wonderful as it might seem, that, for about seven\nyears after this, he enjoyed nearly a heaven upon earth.  His soul was\nalmost continually filled with a sense of the love of God in Christ; so\nthat from the time of his waking in the morning, his heart was rising to\nGod, and triumphing in him; and these thoughts attended him through all\nthe day, till he lay down on his bed again, and a short interval of sleep\n(for it was but a very short one that he allowed himself) invigorated his\nanimal powers for renewing those thoughts with greater intenseness and\nsensibility.\n\nA life any thing like this, could not be entered upon, in the midst of\nsuch company as he was obliged to keep, without great opposition.  He,\nhowever, early began a practice, which to the last day of his life he\nretained, of reproving vice and profaneness; and was never afraid to\ndebate the matter with any, under the consciousness of such superiority\nin the goodness of his cause.\n\nA remarkable instance of this happened about the middle of the year 1720,\non his first return to make any considerable abode in England, after his\nremarkable change.  He had heard on the other side of the water, that it\nwas currently reported among his companions at home, that he was stark\nmad: a report at which no reader, who knows the wisdom of the world in\nthese matters will be much surprised.  He hence concluded that he should\nhave many battles to fight, and was willing to despatch the business as\nfast as he could.  And, therefore, being to spend a few days at the\ncountry-house of a person of distinguished rank, with whom he had been\nvery intimate, 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\u2019s 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 had 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 these\nthings the care and business of his life, whatever he might lose by it,\nand whatever censure and contempt he might incur.  He well knew how\nimproper it was, in such company, to relate the extraordinary manner in\nwhich he was awakened; which they would probably have interpreted as a\nproof of lunacy, notwithstanding all the gravity and solidity of his\ndiscourse; but he contented himself with such a rational defence of a\nrighteous, sober and godly life, as he knew none of them could with any\nshadow of reason contest.  He then challenged them to propose any thing\nthey could urge to prove that a life of irreligion and debauchery was\npreferable to the fear, love, and worship of the eternal God, and a\nconduct agreeable to the precepts of his gospel.  And he failed not to\nbear his testimony from his own experience, (to one part of which many of\nthem had been witnesses,) that after having run the round of sensual\npleasure, with all the advantages the best constitution and spirits could\ngive him, he had never tasted any thing deserving to be called happiness,\ntill he made religion his refuge and delight.  He testified, calmly and\nboldly, the habitual serenity and peace, that he now felt in his own\nbreast, and the composure and pleasure with which he looked forward to\nobjects, which the gayest sinner must acknowledge to be equally\nunavoidable and dreadful.\n\nUpon this, the master of the table, a person of very frank and candid\ndisposition, cut short the debate by saying, \u201cCome let us call another\ncause; we thought this man mad, and he is in good earnest proving that we\nare so.\u201d  On the whole, this well-judged circumstance saved him a good\ndeal of further trouble.  When his former acquaintances observed that he\nwas still conversable and innocently cheerful, and that he was immovable\nin his resolution, they desisted from further importunity.  And he\ndeclared, that, instead of losing one valuable friend by this change in\nhis character, he found himself much more esteemed and regarded by many,\nwho could not persuade themselves to imitate his example.\n\nNothing remarkable appeared in the Colonel\u2019s life from this period till\nthe year 1726, when he married the Lady Frances Erskine, daughter to the\nEarl of Buchan, by whom he had thirteen children, five of whom survived\ntheir father.\n\nBefore the close of these short memoirs, it may not be improper, or\nwithout its use, to give the reader a sketch of the character of this\nexcellent man, with reference to his particular relative situations; in\nsome or other of which the reader may certainly find a model worthy of\nhis imitation.\n\nTo view him first in the calmness of domestic life, and at the head of\nhis affectionate family, it will naturally be supposed, that as soon as\nhe had a house, he erected an altar in it; that the word of God was read\nthere, and prayers and praises constantly offered.  These were not to be\nomitted on account of any guest; for he esteemed it a part of due respect\nto those that remained under his roof, to take it for granted, they would\nlook upon it as a very bad compliment, to imagine they would have been\nobliged by his neglecting the duties of religion on their account.  As\nhis family increased, he had a minister statedly resident in his house,\nwho discharged the offices of tutor and chaplain, and was always treated\nwith kindness and respect.  He was constant in his attendance on public\nworship, in which an exemplary care was taken that the children and\nservants might accompany the heads of the family.\n\nThe necessity of being so many months together distant from home,\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: but when he was with them, he failed not to instruct and\nadmonish them; and the constant deep sense with which he spoke of divine\nthings, and the real unaffected indifference which he always showed for\nwhat this vain world is most ready to admire, were daily lessons of\nwisdom and of piety.  It was easy to perceive, that the openings of\ngenius in the young branches of his family gave him great delight, and\nthat he had a secret ambition to see them excel in what they undertook.\nYet he was very jealous over his heart, lest he should be too fondly\nattached to them, and was an eminent proficient in the blessed science of\nresignation to the divine will.\n\nTo consider his character in the domestic relation of a master, it is\nproper to remark, that as his habitual meekness and command of his\npassions prevented indecent sallies of ungovernable anger towards those\nin a state of subjection to him, so the natural greatness of his mind\nmade him solicitous to render their inferior stations as easy as he\ncould: he had also such a sense of the dignity and worth of an immortal\nsoul, as engaged him to give his servants frequent religious exhortations\nand instructions.\n\nTo consider him in his military character, his bravery was as remarkable\nin the field of battle, as his milder virtues in the domestic circle: and\nhe was particularly careful to prevent the various duties of religion and\nhis profession from interfering with one another either in himself or\nothers.  He therefore abhorred every thing that should look like a\ncontrivance to keep the soldiers employed about their horses and their\narms at the season of public worship: 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; where they behaved with as much reverence, gravity, and\ndecorum, during the time of divine service, as any of their\nfellow-worshippers.\n\nThat this remarkable care to maintain good discipline among them might be\nthe more effectual, he made himself on all occasions accessible to them,\nand expressed a great concern for their interest, temporal as well as\nspiritual; yet he had all the firmness requisite to the infliction of\npunishment where he judged it necessary.\n\nWe may notice one instance of his conduct which happened at Leicester.\nWhile part of his regiment was encamped in that neighbourhood, the\nColonel went _incognito_ to the camp in the middle of the night; for\nsometimes he lodged at his quarters in the town.  One of the sentinels\nhad abandoned his post, and, on being seized, broke out into some oaths\nand profane execrations against those that discovered him\u2014a crime of\nwhich the Colonel had the greatest abhorrence, and on which he never\nfailed to animadvert.  The man afterwards appeared much ashamed and\nconcerned for what he had done; but the Colonel ordered him to be brought\nup early the next morning to his own quarters, where he had prepared a\npiquet, on which he appointed him a private sort of penance; and while he\nwas put upon it, he discoursed with him seriously and tenderly upon the\nevils and aggravations of his fault; admonishing him of the divine\ndispleasure which he had incurred; and then urged him to argue upon the\npain which he then felt, how infinitely more dreadful it must be to \u201cfall\ninto the hands of the living God,\u201d and to meet the terrors of that\ndamnation which he had been accustomed impiously to call upon himself and\nhis companions.  The result of this proceeding was, that the offender\naccepted his punishment, not only with submission, but with thankfulness;\nand spoke of it some years after in such a manner that there seemed\nreason to hope it had been instrumental in producing a change in his\nheart, as well as in his life.\n\nIndeed, this excellent officer always expressed the greatest reverence of\nthe name of the blessed God; and 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\noften declared his sentiments with respect to this enormity at the head\nof the regiment, 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.  His\nzeal on these occasions wrought in a very active, and sometimes in a\nremarkably successful manner, among not only his equals, but his\nsuperiors too.\n\nNor was his character less conspicuous than his zeal.  The lively and\ntender feelings of his heart engaged him to dispense his bounties with a\nliberal hand: and above all, his sincere and ardent love to the Lord\nJesus Christ, led him to feel, with a true sympathy, the concerns of his\npoor members.  In consequence of this he honoured several of his friends\nwith commissions for the relief of the poor; and esteemed it an honour\nwhich Providence conferred upon him, that he should be made the Lord\u2019s\nalmoner for the relief of such.\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.  And as he had in former years often\nexpressed a desire, \u201cthat if it were the will of God, he might have some\nhonourable call to sacrifice his life in defence of religion and the\nliberties of his country:\u201d so, when it appeared to him most probable that\nhe might be called to it immediately, he met the summons with the\ngreatest readiness.  This appears from a letter which he wrote only eight\ndays before his death: \u201cThe rebels,\u201d says he, \u201care advancing to cross the\nFirth; but I trust in the Almighty God, who doeth whatsoever he pleaseth\nin the armies of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth.\u201d\n\nThese sentiments wrought in him to the last in the most effectual manner.\nBut he was ordered to march as fast as possible to Dunbar; and that hasty\nretreat, in concurrence with the news which they soon after received of\nthe surrender of Edinburgh to the rebels, struck a visible panic into\nboth the regiments of dragoons.  This affected the Colonel so much, that,\non Thursday before the fatal action at Preston-pans, he intimated to an\nofficer of considerable rank, that he expected the event would be as in\nfact it proved; and to a person who visited him, he said, \u201cI cannot\ninfluence the conduct of others as I could wish, but I have one life to\nsacrifice to my country\u2019s safety, and I shall not spare it.\u201d\n\nOn Friday, Sept. 20, 1745, (the day before the battle which transmitted\nhim to his immortal crown,) when the whole army was drawn up about noon,\nthe Colonel rode through all the ranks of his own regiment, addressing\nthem at once in the most respectful and animating manner, both as\nsoldiers and as Christians, to engage them to exert themselves\ncourageously in the service of their country, and to neglect nothing that\nmight have a tendency to prepare them for whatever event might happen.\nThey seemed much affected with the address, and expressed a very ardent\ndesire of attacking the enemy immediately\u2014a desire in which he and\nanother gallant officer of distinguished character would gladly have\ngratified them, if it had been in the power of either; but they were\noverruled; and he spent the remainder of the day in making as good a\ndisposition as circumstances would allow.\n\nHe continued all night under arms, wrapped up in his cloak, and sheltered\nunder a rick of barley which happened to be in the field.  About three in\nthe morning he called his domestic servants to him, of whom there were\nfour in waiting.  He dismissed three of them with most affectionate\nChristian advice, and such solemn charges relative to the performance of\ntheir duty, and care of their souls, as seemed plainly to intimate that\nhe apprehended, at least very probably, he was taking his last farewell\nof them.  There is great reason to believe that he spent the little\nremainder of time, which could not be much above an hour, in those devout\nexercises of soul, which had so long been habitual to him.  The army was\nalarmed at break of day by a noise of the rebels\u2019 approach, and the\nattack was made before sunrise.  As soon as the enemy came within\ngun-shot, they commenced a furious fire; and the dragoons, which\nconstituted the left wing, immediately fled.  The Colonel, at the\nbeginning of the attack, which in the whole lasted but a few minutes,\nreceived a bullet in his left breast, which made him give a sudden spring\nin his saddle; upon which his servant, who had led the horse, would have\npersuaded him to retreat; but he said it was only a wound in the flesh,\nand fought on, though he presently received a shot in the right thigh.\nThe Colonel was, for a few moments, supported by his men, and\nparticularly about fifteen dragoons, who stood by him to the last.  But\nafter a faint fire, the regiment in general was seized with a panic; and\nthough the Colonel and some gallant officers did what they could to rally\nthem once or twice, they at last took a precipitate flight.  Just in the\nmoment when Colonel Gardiner seemed to be making a pause, to deliberate\nwhat duty required him to do in such a circumstance, he saw a party of\nthe foot who were then bravely fighting near him, but had no officer to\nhead them; upon which he rode up to them immediately, and cried out\naloud, \u201cFire on, my lads, and fear nothing.\u201d  But just as the words were\nout of his mouth, a Highlander advanced to him with a scythe fastened to\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 from off his horse.  The moment he fell\nanother Highlander gave him a stroke, either with a broadsword, or a\nLochaber axe, on the head, which was the mortal blow.  All that his\nfaithful attendant saw further at this time was, that as his hat was\nfalling off, he took it in his left hand, and waved it as a signal to him\nto retreat, adding, (which were the last words he ever heard him speak,)\n\u201cTake care of yourself:\u201d upon which the servant immediately fled to a\nmill, at the distance of about two miles from the spot on which the\nColonel fell; where he changed his dress, and, disguised like a miller\u2019s\nservant, returned with a cart about two hours after the engagement.  The\nhurry of the action was then pretty well over, and he found his\nmuch-honoured master not only plundered of his watch and other things of\nvalue, but also stripped of his upper garments and boots, yet still\nbreathing; and adds, that though he was not capable of speech, yet, on\ntaking him up, he opened his eyes, which makes it something questionable\nwhether he were altogether insensible.  In this condition, and in this\nmanner, he conveyed him to the church of Tranent, whence he was\nimmediately taken into the minister\u2019s house and laid in a bed; where he\ncontinued breathing till about eleven in the forenoon, when he took his\nfinal leave of pain and sorrow.  His remains were interred the Tuesday\nfollowing, Sept. 24, at the parish church of Tranent (where he had\nusually attended divine service) with great solemnity.\n\n   When God reveal\u2019d his gracious name,\n      And chang\u2019d my mournful state,\n   My rapture seem\u2019d a pleasing dream,\n      The grace appear\u2019d so great.\n\n   The world beheld the glorious change,\n      And did thy hand confess;\n   My tongue broke out in unknown strains,\n      And sang surprising grace.\n\n   \u201cGreat is the work,\u201d my neighbours cried,\n      And owned the power divine;\n   \u201cGreat is the work,\u201d my heart replied,\n      \u201cAnd be the glory thine.\u201d\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n_London_: _Printed for_ THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY; _and sold at the\nDepository_, 56.  _Paternoster-row_; _by_ J. NISBET, 21,\n_Berners-street_, _Oxford-Street_; _and by other Booksellers_.\n\n                          [Price 8_s._ per 100.]\n         _Considerable Allowance to Subscribers and Booksellers_.","title":"The Life of Col. James Gardiner","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":8081}