The Life of Col. James Gardiner Part 4

CHAPTER IX.

INTIMACY WITH THE AUTHOR.

Of the justice of this testimony, which I had so often heard from a variety of persons, I myself began to be a witness about the time when the last mentioned letter was dated. In this view, I believe I shall never forget that happy day, June 18, 1739, when I first met him at Leicester. I remember I happened that day to preach a lecture from Psalm cxix, 158, "I beheld the transgressions, and was grieved because they kept not thy law." I was large in describing that mixture of indignation and grief (strongly expressed by the original words there) with which a good man looks on the daring transgressors of the divine law; and in tracing the causes of that grief, as arising from a regard to the divine honour, and the interest of a Redeemer, and a compa.s.sionate concern for the misery which such offenders bring on themselves, and for the mischief they do to the world about them, I little thought, how exactly I was drawing Colonel Gardiner's character under each of those heads; and I have often reflected upon it as a happy providence which opened a much speedier way than I could have expected to the breast of one of the most amiable and useful friends whom I ever expect to find upon earth. We afterwards sang a hymn which brought over again some of the leading thoughts in the sermon and struck him so strongly, that on obtaining a copy of it, he committed it to memory, and used to repeat it, with so forcible an accent as showed how much every line expressed his very soul.

In this view the reader will pardon my inserting it, especially as I know not when I may get time to publish a volume of these serious though artless compositions, which I sent him in ma.n.u.script some years ago, and to which I have since made very large additions:

Arise, my tenderest thoughts arise, To torrents melt my streaming eyes!

And thou, my heart, with anguish feel Those evils which thou canst not heal!

See human nature sunk in shame!

See scandal poured on Jesus' name!

The Father wounded through the Son!

The world abused--the soul undone!

See the short course of vain delight Closing in everlasting night!

In flames that no abatement know, The briny tears for ever flow.

My G.o.d, I feel the mournful scene; My bowels yearn o'er dying men: And fain my pity would reclaim, And s.n.a.t.c.h the firebrands from the flame.

But feeble my compa.s.sion proves, And can but weep where most it loves; Thine own all-saving arm employ, And turn these drops of grief to joy!

The colonel, immediately after the conclusion of the service, met me in the vestry and embraced me in the most obliging and affectionate manner, as if there had been a long friendship between us, a.s.sured me that he had for some years been intimately acquainted with my writings, and desired that we might concert measures for spending some hours together before I left the town. I was so happy as to be able to secure an opportunity of doing it; and I must leave upon record, that I cannot recollect I was ever equally edified by any conversation I remember to have enjoyed. We pa.s.sed that evening and the next morning together, and it is impossible for me to describe the impression which the interview left upon my heart.

I rode alone all the remainder of the day; and it was my unspeakable happiness that I was alone, since I could no longer be with him; for I can hardly conceive what other company would not then have been an enc.u.mbrance. The views which he gave me even then, (for he began to repose a most obliging confidence in me, though he concealed some of the most extraordinary circ.u.mstances of the methods by which he had been recovered to G.o.d and happiness,) with those cordial sentiments of evangelical piety and extensive goodness which he poured out into my bosom with so endearing a freedom, fired my very soul; and I hope I may truly say (which I wish and pray that many of my readers may also adopt for themselves) that I glorified G.o.d in him. Our epistolatory correspondence immediately commenced upon my return; and though, through the multiplicity of business on both sides, it suffered many interruptions, it was in some degree the blessing of all the following years of my life, till he fell by those unreasonable and wicked men who had it in their hearts with him to have destroyed all our glory, defence, and happiness.

The first letter I received from him was so remarkable, that some persons of eminent piety, to whom I communicated it, would not be content without copying it out, or making some extracts from it. I persuade myself that my devout reader will not be displeased that I insert the greater part of it here, especially as it serves to ill.u.s.trate the affectionate sense which he had of the divine goodness in his conversion, though more than twenty years had pa.s.sed since that memorable event happened. Having already mentioned my ever dear and honoured friend Dr. Isaac Watts, he adds:

"I have been in pain these several years lest that excellent person, that sweet singer in our Israel, should have been called to heaven before I had an opportunity of letting him know how much his works have been blessed to me, and, of course, returning him my hearty thanks; for though it is owing to the operation of the blessed Spirit, that any thing works effectually upon our hearts, yet if we are not thankful to the instrument which G.o.d is pleased to make use of, whom we do see, how shall we be thankful to the Almighty, whom we have not seen? I desire to bless G.o.d for the good news of his recovery, and entreat you to tell him, that although I cannot keep pace with him here in celebrating the high praises of our glorious Redeemer, which is the greatest grief of my heart, yet I am persuaded, that, when I join the glorious company above, where there will be no drawbacks, none will outsing me there, because I shall not find any that will be more indebted to the wonderful riches of divine grace than I.

"Give me a place at thy saints' feet, On some fallen angel's vacant seat; I'll strive to sing as loud as they Who sit above in brighter day.

"I know it is natural for every one who has felt the almighty power which raised our glorious Redeemer from the grave, to believe his case singular; but I have made every one in this respect submit as soon as he has heard my story. And if you seemed so surprised at the account which I gave you, what will you be when you hear it all?

"Oh, if I had an angel's voice, And could be heard from pole to pole; I would to all the listening world Proclaim thy goodness to my soul."

He then concludes, after some expressions of endearment, (which, with whatever pleasure I review them, I must not here insert)--

"If you knew what a natural aversion I have to writing, you would be astonished at the length of this letter, which is, I believe, the longest I ever wrote. But my heart warms when I write to you, which makes my pen move the easier. I hope it will please our gracious G.o.d long to preserve you, a blessed instrument in his hand, of doing great good in the church of Christ; and that you may always enjoy a thriving soul in a healthful body, shall be the continual prayer of," &c.

As our intimacy grew, our mutual affection increased; and "my dearest friend" was the form of address with which most of his epistles of the last years were begun and ended. Many of them are filled up with his sentiments of those writings which I published during these years, which he read with great attention, and of which he speaks in terms which it becomes me to suppress, and to impute, in a considerable degree, to the kind prejudices of so endeared a friendship. He gives me repeated a.s.surances "that he was daily mindful of me in his prayers", a circ.u.mstance which I cannot recollect without the greatest thankfulness; and the loss of which I should more deeply lament, did I not hope that the happy effect of these prayers might still continue, and might run into all my remaining days.

It might be a pleasure to me to make several extracts from many others of his letters; but it is a pleasure which I ought to suppress, and rather to reflect, with unfeigned humility, how unworthy I was of such regards from such a person, and of that divine goodness which gave me such a friend in him. I shall, therefore, only add two general remarks, which offer themselves from several of his letters. The one is, that there is in some of them, as our freedom increased, an agreeable vein of humour and pleasantry, which shows how easy religion sat upon him, and how far he was from placing any part of it in a gloomy melancholy, or stiff formality. The other is, that he frequently refers to domestic circ.u.mstances, such as the illness or recovery of my children, &c., which I am surprised how a man of his extensive and important business could so distinctly bear upon his mind. But his memory was good, and his heart was yet better; and his friendship was such, that nothing which sensibly affected the heart of one whom he honoured with it, left his own but slightly touched. I have all imaginable reason to believe that in many instances his prayers were not only offered for us in general terms, but varied as our particular situation required. Many quotations might verify this; but I decline troubling the reader with an enumeration of pa.s.sages in which it was only the abundance of friendly sympathy that gave this truly great as well as good man so cordial a concern.

After this correspondence, carried on for the s.p.a.ce of about three years, and some interviews which we had enjoyed at different places, he came to spend some time with us at Northampton, and brought with him his lady and his two eldest children. I had here an opportunity of taking a much nearer view of his character, and surveying it in a much greater variety of lights than before; and my esteem for him increased in proportion to these opportunities. What I have written with respect to his conduct in relative life, was in a great measure drawn from what I now saw; and I shall mention here some other points in his behaviour which particularly struck my mind, and likewise shall touch on his sentiments on some topics of importance which he freely communicated to me, and which I have remarked on account of that wisdom and propriety which pervaded them.

CHAPTER X.

DEVOTION AND CHARITY.

There was nothing more observable in Colonel Gardiner than the exemplary gravity, composure, and reverence with which he attended public worship.

Copious as he was in his secret devotions before he engaged in it, he always began them early, so as not to be r.e.t.a.r.ded by them when he should resort to the house of G.o.d. He, and all his soldiers who chose to worship with him, were generally there (as I have already hinted) before the service began, that the entrance of so many of them at once might not disturb the congregation already engaged in devotion, and that there might be a better opportunity of bringing the mind to a becoming attention, and preparing it for converse with the Divine Being. While acts of worship were going on, whether of prayer or singing, he always stood up; and whatever regard he might have for persons who pa.s.sed by him at that time, though it were to come into the same pew, he never paid any compliment to them; and often has he expressed his wonder at the indecorum of breaking off our addresses to G.o.d to bow to a fellow-creature, which he thought a much greater indecency that it would be, on a little occasion and circ.u.mstance, to interrupt an address to our prince. During the time of preaching, his eye was commonly fixed upon the minister, though sometimes turned round upon the auditory, against whom, if he observed any to trifle, he was filled with just indignation. I have known instances in which, upon making the remark, he has communicated it to some friend of the persons who were guilty of it, that proper application might be made to prevent it for the time to come.

A more devout communicant at the table of the Lord has perhaps seldom been any where known. Often have I had the pleasure to see that manly countenance softened to all the marks of humiliation and contrition on this occasion; and to discern, in spite of all his efforts to conceal them, streams of tears flowing down from his eyes, while he has been directing them to those memorials of his Redeemer's love. Some who have conversed intimately with him after he came from that ordinance, have observed a visible abstraction from surrounding objects, by which there seemed reason to imagine that his soul was wrapped up in holy contemplation. I particularly remember, that when we had once spent a great part of the following Monday in riding together, he made an apology to me for being so absent as he seemed, by telling me "that his heart was flown upwards, before he was aware, to Him 'whom, not having seen, he loved;'[*] and that he was rejoicing in him with such unspeakable joy, that he could not hold it down to creature converse."

[*Note: This alluded to the subject of the sermon the day before, which was 1 Pet, 1. 8.]

In all the offices of friendship he was remarkably ready, and had a most sweet and engaging manner of performing them, which greatly heightened the obligations he conferred. He seemed not to set any high value upon any benefit he bestowed, but did it without the least parade, as a thing which in those circ.u.mstances came of course, where he had professed love and respect; which he was not over forward to do, though he treated strangers, and those who were most his inferiors, very courteously, and always seemed, because he in truth always was, glad of any opportunity of doing them good.

He was particularly zealous in vindicating the reputation of his friends in their absence; and though I cannot recollect that I had ever an opportunity of immediately observing this, as I do not know that I ever was present with him when any ill was spoken of others at all; yet, by what I have heard him say with relation to attempts to injure the character of worthy and useful men, I have reason to believe that no man living was more sensible of the baseness and infamy, as well as the cruelty, of such conduct. He knew and despised the low principles of resentment for unreasonable expectations disappointed, of personal attachment to men of some crossing interests, of envy, and of party zeal, from whence such a conduct often proceeds; and he was particularly offended when he found it (as he frequently did) in persons that set up for the greatest patrons of liberty, virtue, and candour. He looked upon the murderers of reputation and usefulness as some of the vilest pests of society, and plainly showed on every proper occasion that he thought it the part of a generous, benevolent and courageous man to exert himself in tracing and hunting down the slander, that the authors or abettors of it might be less capable of mischief for the future.

The most plausible objection that I ever heard to Colonel Gardiner's character is, that he was too much attached to some religious principles, established indeed in the churches both of England and Scotland, but which have of late years been much disputed, and from which, it is at least generally supposed, not a few in both have thought proper to depart--whatever expedients they may have found to quiet their consciences, in subscribing those formularies in which they are plainly taught. His zeal was especially apparent in opposition to those doctrines which seemed to derogate from the divine honours of the Son and Spirit of G.o.d, and from the freedom of divine grace, of the reality and necessity of its operations in the conversion and salvation of sinners.

With relation to these I must observe, that it was his most steadfast persuasion that all those notions which represent our blessed Redeemer and the Holy Spirit as mere creatures, or which set aside the atonement of the former, or the influence of the latter, sap the very foundation of Christianity by rejecting the most glorious doctrines peculiar to it.

He had attentively observed (what indeed is too obvious) the unhappy influence which the denial of these principles often has on the character of ministers, and on their success, and was persuaded that an attempt to subst.i.tute that mutilated form of Christianity which remains, when these essentials of it are taken away, has proved one of the most successful methods which the great enemy of souls has ever taken, in these latter days, to lead men by insensible degrees into deism, vice, and perdition.

He also sagaciously observed the artful manner in which obnoxious tenets are often maintained or insinuated, with all that mixture of zeal and address with which they are propagated in the world, even by those who had most solemnly professed to believe, and engaged to teach the contrary; and as he really apprehended that the glory of G.o.d and the salvation of souls were concerned, his piety and charity made him eager and strenuous in opposing what he judged to be errors of so pernicious a nature. Yet I must declare, that, according to what I have known of him, (and I believe he opened his heart on these topics to me with as much freedom as to any man living,) he was not ready, upon light suspicions, to charge tenets which he thought so pernicious on any, especially where he saw the appearances of a good temper and life, which he always reverenced and loved in persons of all sentiments and professions. He severely condemned causeless jealousies and evil surmisings of every kind, and extended that charity, in this respect, both to clergy and laity, which good Bishop Burnet was so ready, according to his own account, to limit to the latter, "of believing every man good till he knew him to be bad, and his notions right till he knew them wrong." He could not but be very sensible of the unhappy consequences which may follow on attacking the characters of men, especially of those who are ministers of the gospel; and if, through a mixture of human frailty, from which the best of men, in the best of their meanings and intentions, are not entirely free, he had ever, in the warmth of his heart, dropped a word which might be injurious to any on that account, (which I believe very seldom happened,) he would gladly retract it on better information; and this was perfectly agreeable to that honest and generous frankness of temper in which I never knew any man who excelled him.

On the whole, it was indeed his deliberate judgment that the Arian, Socinian, and Pelagian doctrines were highly dishonourable to G.o.d, and dangerous to the souls of men; and that it was the duty of private Christians to be greatly on their guard against those ministers by whom they are entertained, lest their minds should be corrupted from the simplicity that is in Christ. Yet he sincerely abhorred the thought of persecution for conscience sake; of the absurdity and iniquity of which, in all its kinds and degrees, he had as deep and rational a conviction as any man. Indeed the generosity of his heroic heart could hardly bear to think that those glorious truths which he so cordially loved, and which he a.s.suredly believed to be capable of such fair support both from reason and the word of G.o.d, should be disgraced by methods of defence and propagation common to the most impious and ridiculous falsehoods. Nor did he by any means approve of pa.s.sionate and furious ways of vindicating the most vital and important doctrines of the gospel; for he knew that to maintain the most benevolent religion in the world by such malevolent and infernal methods was destroying the end to accomplish the means; and that it was as impossible that true Christianity should be supported thus, as it is that a man should long be nourished by eating his own flesh. To display the genuine fruits of Christianity in a good life--to be ready to plead with meekness for the doctrines it teaches, and to labour, by every office of humanity and goodness, to gain upon those who oppose it, were the weapons with which this good soldier of Jesus Christ faithfully fought the battles of the Lord. These weapons will always be victorious in his cause; and they who have recourse to others of a different temper, how strong soever they may seem, and how sharp soever they may really be, will find them break in their hands when they exert them most furiously, and are much more likely to wound themselves than to conquer the enemies whom they oppose.

But while I am speaking of Colonel Gardiner's charity in this respect, I must not omit that of another kind, which has indeed engrossed the name of charity, excellent as it is, much more than it ought--I mean alms-giving for which he was very remarkable. I have often wondered how he was able to do so many generous things in this way. But his frugality fed the spring. He made no pleasurable expense on himself, and was contented with a very decent appearance in his family, without affecting such an air of grandeur as could not have been supported without sacrificing to it satisfactions far n.o.bler, and, to a temper like his, far more delightful. The lively and tender feelings of his heart in favour of the distressed and afflicted made it a self-indulgence to relieve them; and the deep conviction he had of the vain and transitory nature of the enjoyments of this world, together with the sublime view he had of another, engaged him to dispense his bounties with a very liberal hand, and even to seek out proper objects of them. Above all, his sincere and ardent love to the Lord Jesus Christ engaged him to feel, with a true sympathy, the concerns of his poor members. In consequence of this, he honoured several of his friends with commissions for the relief of the poor; and particularly, with relation to some under my pastoral care, he referred it to my discretion to supply them with what I should judge expedient, and frequently pressed me, in his letters, "to be sure not to let them want." And where persons standing in need of his charity happened, as they often did, to be persons of remarkably religious dispositions, it was easy to perceive that he not only loved but honoured them, and really esteemed it an honour which Providence conferred upon him, that he should be made, as it were, the almoner of G.o.d for their relief.

I cannot forbear relating a little story here, which, when the colonel himself heard it, gave him such exquisite pleasure, that I hope it will be acceptable to several of my readers. There was in a village about nine miles from Northampton, and in a family which, of all others near me, was afterwards most indebted to him, (though he had never then seen any member of it,) an aged and poor, but eminently good woman, who had, with great difficulty, in the exercise of much faith and patience, diligence and humility, made shift to educate a large family of children after the death of her husband, without being chargeable to the parish; which, as it was quite beyond her hope, she often spoke of with great delight.

At length, when worn out with age and infirmities, she lay upon her death-bed, she, in a most lively and affecting manner, expressed her hope and joy in the views of approaching glory. Yet, amidst all the triumphs of such a prospect, there was one remaining care and distress which lay heavy on her mind; this was, that as her journey and her stock of provisions were both ended together, she feared that she must either be buried at the parish expense, or leave to her most dutiful and affectionate daughters the house stripped of some of the few movables which remained in it, in order to perform the last office of duty to her, which she had reason to believe they would do. While she was combatting with this only remaining anxiety, I happened, though I knew not the extremity of her illness, to come in, and to bring with me a guinea which the generous colonel had sent by a special message, on hearing the character of the family, for its relief. A present like this, (probably the most considerable they had ever received in their lives,) coming in this manner from an entire stranger at such a crisis of time, threw my dying friend (for such, amidst all her poverty, I rejoiced to call her) into a perfect transport of joy. She esteemed it a singular favour of Providence sent to her in her last moments as a token for good, and greeted it as a special mark of that loving kindness of G.o.d which should attend her for ever. She insisted, therefore, to be raised up in her bed, that she might bless G.o.d for it upon her knees, and with her last breath pray for her kind and generous benefactor, and for him who had been the instrument of directing his bounty into this channel. After this she soon expired, and with such tranquillity and sweetness as could not but most sensibly delight all who beheld her, and occasioned many who knew the circ.u.mstance to glorify G.o.d on her behalf.

The colonel's last residence at Northampton was in June and July 1742, when Lord Cadogan's regiment of dragoons was quartered here. Here I cannot but observe, that wherever that regiment came, it was remarkable not only for the fine appearance it made, and for the exactness with which it performed its various exercises, (of which it had about this time the honour to receive the most ill.u.s.trious testimonials,) but also for the great sobriety and regularity of the soldiers. Many of the officers copied after the excellent pattern which they had daily before their eyes; and a considerable number of the private men seemed to be persons not only of strict virtue, but of serious piety. I doubt not but they found their abundant account in it, not only in the serenity and happiness of their own minds, which is beyond comparison the most important consideration; but also, in some degree, in the obliging and respectful treatment which they generally met with in their quarters.

I mention this, because I am persuaded that if gentlemen of their profession knew, and would reflect, how much more comfortable they make their own quarters by a sober, orderly, and obliging conduct, they would be regular out of mere self love, if they were not influenced, as I heartily wish they may always be, by a n.o.bler principle.

CHAPTER XI.

EMBARKS FOR FLANDERS.

Towards the latter end of this year he embarked for Flanders, and spent some considerable time with the regiment at Ghent, where he much regretted the want of those religious ordinances and opportunities which had made his other abodes delightful. But as he had made so eminent a progress in that divine life which they are all intended to promote, he could not be inactive in the cause of G.o.d. I have now before me a letter, dated from thence October 16, 1742, in which he writes:

"As for me, I am indeed in a dry and barren land, where no water is.

Rivers of waters run down mine eyes, because nothing is to be heard in our Sodom but blaspheming the name of my G.o.d, and I not honoured as the instrument of doing any great service. It is true, I have reformed six or seven field-officers of swearing. I dine every day with them, and have entered them into a voluntary contract to pay a shilling to the poor for every oath, and it is wonderful to observe the effect it has had already.

One of them told me this day at dinner that it had really such an influence upon him, that being at cards last night when another officer fell a swearing, he was not able to bear it, but rose up and left the company. So you see, restraints at first arising from a low principle may improve into something better."

During his abode here, he had a great deal of business upon his hands, and had also, in some marches, the care of more regiments than his own; and it has been very delightful to me to observe what a degree of converse with heaven, and the G.o.d of it, he maintained amidst these scenes of hurry and fatigue, of which the reader may find a remarkable specimen in the following letter, dated from Lichwick in the beginning of April 1743, which was one of the last I received from him while abroad.

It begins with these words:--

"Yesterday being the Lord's day, at six in the morning I had the pleasure of receiving yours at Nortonick; and it proved a Sabbath day's blessing to me. Some time before it reached me," (from whence, by the way, it may be observed that his former custom of rising so early in his devotions was still retained,) "I had been wrestling with G.o.d with many tears; and when I had read it, I returned to my knees again to give hearty thanks to him for all his goodness to you and yours, and also to myself, in that he hath been pleased to stir up so many who are dear to him, to be mindful of me at the throne of grace."