Captain Hedley Vicars, a Loving Son, and a Faithful Soldier
of the Cross--His Early Life--Joins the Army, and devotes
Himself to his Chosen Profession--His Eyes opened to the
Truths of the Gospel--His Prayerful Conduct--In the
Crimea--Killed in a Night Attack on the Trenches--The
Feeling of the Men Composing the Light Division--Letters to
his Mother--His Last Letter--In Memoriam--Letter to Lord
Rayleigh announcing his Death--Letter from a Brother
Officer--Testimony of Private Soldiers to his Worth--The
Lessons of his Life
CAPTAIN HEDLEY VICARS.
There are few thinking men throughout the length and breadth of Britain
who have not heard of Captain Hedley Vicars, the Christian soldier. And
what makes his name so dear to thousands who have a heart about them was
his unflinching faithfulness, first, to the God of Israel, and,
secondly, to his queen and country; and also his loving, noble, and
manly nature, which compelled him, even when death was raging all around
him, to cling to his love for his darling mother. A man who could forget
or neglect his mother, the being who brought him, with agonizing pain,
into this world, is not worthy the name of man, he is worse than the
beasts of the field, and deserves to be ostracised from the society of
his fellows. Let a man once get into danger, either by sea or land, and
it will set him thinking of the fact that he has an immortal soul that
must live for ever, either in happiness or woe--for our God is a just
God. The love of an affectionate mother is stronger than anything on
earth; but the boundless love of God is beyond all measure. He did not
withhold His only begotten Son, but freely gave him up, that He might
save His people from their sins. Oh, what love--what matchless love! But
remember, reader, this same holy God hath said, "The wicked shall be
turned into hell, and all the people that forget God."
He whose career I am now about to trace was to the last a loving son of
his mother and a faithful servant of his Lord. Hedley Vicars was born in
the Mauritius, 7th December, 1826, and at the time of his departure from
this life on the field of battle, 22nd March, 1855, was but a little
over twenty-eight years of age. There was but little to distinguish him
in early life from others. He was active and fearless, upright and
honourable, open-hearted and generous, but quick to resent an injury. He
was another example of the noble blood that has sprung from our sister
isle, Ireland. He obtained his commission in December, 1843, at the age
of seventeen, and at once entered, heart and soul, into his profession;
his whole zeal was for the honour of his country; as he said
afterwards--"It's no use doing things by halves."
He had been five years in our army before it pleased the Lord to open
his spiritual eyes, to see that he had an immortal soul that must live
for ever. As I have said, he was an ardent lover of his darling mother.
His fond, affectionate letters to that parent are truly inspiring--they
bring out in bold relief his noble manliness, and lay bare his manly
heart. The following is one of his beautiful letters to his mother,
after his eyes were partly opened:--
My Darling Mother,
I do love you, and that fondly, although I have often (and
may God Almighty forgive me) rebelled against your wishes.
Mother, I ask your forgiveness for what has passed: you know
not what real anguish some of your letters have caused me;
and although I have tried to drown the voice of conscience,
after reading them, a still small voice has always been
whispering in my ear, and kept me from committing many a
sin.
He now began to be awakened to the sinfulness of his heart (this was
some six years before he left this earthly tabernacle). He was no
coward; but the thought of death was solemn, and it set him considering
seriously whether he was in a fit state to meet a just and holy God; and
when it pleased the Lord to speak peace to his soul, he had then no fear
of death before his eyes; consequently he proved himself one of the
bravest of the brave.
His whole life and soul was now that of a Christian. His eyes had been
opened, and he could see that it was impossible to serve two masters,
and, like thousands that had gone before him, he chose rather to suffer
affliction with the people of God than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for
a season.
Reader, the world may scoff and scorn, but ask yourself the question,
Who is the best off in the end? Mind, formalities will not do; they have
no foundation. To be safe you must have your foundation on the Rock of
Ages.
Vicars asked himself the question:--
When Thou my righteous Judge shall come
To fetch Thy ransomed people home
Shall I among them stand?
After many prayers the answer he received was, "Be ye also faithful, and
I will not leave thee nor forsake thee."
His regiment, the 97th, went out to the Crimea, in November, 1854,
landed just after the battle of Inkermann; and during that cold, bleak
winter, he proved himself a soldier of no mean sort. But amid all the
trials and hardships of that terrible camp and trench life he was never
heard to murmur: he performed his duty with a cheerful heart, and had
always a kind word for every one. He was always as true as steel to his
country; he was ever a loving, affectionate son; and, above all, he was
faithful to his fathers' God. He was loved and respected by all ranks
for his manly conduct, and, as one of the old Light Division, I can say
that his name was engraved on the hearts of all, and throughout the
division there was not a man who would not have laid down his life to
have saved his. After he fell in that night attack in the trenches one
would have thought that the men, particularly those of the 97th, would
have eaten the enemy. He fell for England's home and glory, his last
words being, "97th, follow me." He fell--one of Britain's bravest
sons--in the hour of victory. He fell to rise triumphant, to meet his
Lord and Master, whom he had not been ashamed to extol through flood and
field. I cannot do better than copy some of this noble young hero's
letters, and then my readers will be able to see what was his character,
and the state of his mind, which was cheerful under all circumstances.
He would say he did not like to hear a man grumble. As for himself he
would sing with all his manly heart--
Grace 'tis a charming sound
Grace first contrived the way,
Grace first inscribed my name,
Grace led my roving feet,
Grace taught my soul to pray,
Grace all the work shall crown.
Where is the man who has any spirit in him that would not follow at the
call of such a leader? His last words for his Queen and Country were
"Come on, Fusiliers! This way, 97th! Come on!" and thus he fell, shot by
the advancing Russians. By that fatal bullet, Her Most Gracious Majesty
and the nation at large lost a faithful, honest, and devoted subject;
while his poor widowed mother lost a fond and affectionate son; but that
bereaved mother had the consolation of knowing that he was "not lost,
but gone before." He who searches the inmost recesses of the heart and
conscience knew well that Hedley Vicars had attained a meetness for the
heavenly inheritance, and that it would have been wrong to delay his
removal out of harm's way and from the evil to come. He who holds the
keys of the unseen world and of death, and whose eyes are as a flame of
fire, had guided Vicars by His counsel, and could see that the time for
this exemplary soldier to die had really arrived. His mother's loss, Her
Majesty's loss, the nation's loss, was to be his gain--his eternal gain.
It was, indeed, a crushing blow to his bereaved mother, but He who
raised the widow's son was able to comfort and support her. She knew
that her son had "fought a good fight" for his Lord and Master, and had
"finished his course," and henceforth there was laid up for him a crown
of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, would give him.
Reader, sooner or later your turn will come, whether on a battle-field
or on a bed of down. The all-important question for consideration
is--Are you ready? Have you been faithful? Remember, it will be a
personal matter when your time comes. Boast not thyself of health,
wealth, youth, or attainments. "Prepare to meet thy God." Captain Vicars
had always in his mind this truth. Man proposes, but God in His mercy
disposes; and who shall say that He doeth wrong? He holds the whole
earth in the hollow of His hands, but He remembereth in His mercy that
we are dust.
Captain Vicars did not like outward forms of religion. He would say,
"Away with all formality,--give me Christ or else I die." In writing to
his mother, his darling mother, he said, "How lonely I feel when Jesus
withdraws Himself from me and leaves me for a time to myself, but those
blessed words in Isaiah have restored happiness to my soul, "For a small
moment I have forsaken thee, but with great mercies will I gather thee."
He had only been in the Crimea a little over a month, when he was
providentially saved from an untimely end. A number of Officers, in
order to keep their tents a little warm, had charcoal burnt in them;
three Officers had been found dead in their tents from the effects of
the fumes, and another was hanging between life and death; that other
was Captain Hedley Vicars, who had returned to his cold tent chilled and
weary, after a wild and snowy night in the trenches. Before throwing
himself on his bed of leaves and stones, he told his servant, as it was
intensely cold, to make a small fire of charcoal in a dish, and to leave
the door of the tent partly open, but it nearly cost him his life. He
was for duty that night again, and his faithful servant several times
vainly endeavoured to awaken him, and at last became alarmed and went
for the surgeon. He found him returning from the tent of another of the
97th, for whom, alas, his aid had come too late. Our hero was carried
into the open and laid upon the snow; his men stood around, wringing
their hands, but, at length, after blistering and bleeding, he was
restored to consciousness; he was spared for a nobler end, to fulfil his
own choice, "As a soldier I will die." In one of his letters is the
following:--"In the trenches, the other day, one of our men amused us
much. At the first shell which passed close to him he dropped down on
his back screaming aloud for a doctor, for he was 'Kilt entirely;' the
doctor ran up to him and asked him where he had been hit, when he
exclaimed, 'Och, och, doctor; clean through the blanket.'" In another,
"This afternoon, whilst speaking to our poor fellows in the Cholera
Hospital, who were lying cold and comfortless on the bare ground, rays
of sunshine seemed to illumine that charnel tent as I brought the
crucified Saviour before those men, for tears glistened in many an eye,
and the smile of hope and peace was on many a lip. I feel it to be
indeed a pleasure and a privilege to talk to my sick comrades and
fellow-sinners of Jesus, and I am sure that they who never visit the
suffering and dying deprive themselves of the deepest happiness this
life affords. It is painful, often heart-rending, to witness agony we
cannot alleviate; to see the distorted face and hear the cry of anguish
of friends and comrades." Again, "We are expecting every day to meet the
enemy in open field, or to storm this fortress. I wish they would let us
go at it at once. _Be not anxious about me, I am safe in the arms of my
Saviour; I feel it, I know it, in life or in death._" He might often be
heard singing--
Am I a soldier of the cross,
A follower of the Lamb,
And shall I fear to own His cause,
Or blush to speak his name?
Also the following--
Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah,
Pilgrim through this barren land,
I am weak, but Thou art mighty,
Hold me with Thy powerful hand.
Bread of heaven,
Feed me till I want no more.
And again he would burst forth--
Soldiers of Christ, arise,
And put your armour on,
Strong in the strength that God supplies,
Through His eternal Son.
From strength to strength go on,
Wrestle, and fight, and pray,
Tread all the powers of darkness down,
And win the well-fought day.
On the 16th and 17th December he writes "I have only returned about half
an hour from the trenches, the rain poured in torrents all night; we
turned out in the midst of it, 3 officers and 200 men, and started for
the rendezvous, previous to marching off to the trenches; we had to ford
two mountain torrents, which damped our feet and legs, if not our
ardour; we moved on, tumbling in the mud at every step; we found the
trenches in parts knee-deep in mud, through which we plodded; a spent
bullet struck me in the left side, but did no harm, thank God. I offered
up a short prayer of gratitude and praise to my Heavenly Father, who had
thus preserved me; we lined the trench without any casualties, but the
weather was so bleak and cold, that we were obliged to walk about to
keep ourselves warm, regardless of the bullets which kept flying about
our ears like bees. A Marine was mortally hit in the breast soon after,
he died in less than half an hour. One of my men was walking up and down
close to the rampart, when a ball hit him behind the ear; he fell on his
side and died without a groan. _What and where_ were thy last thoughts,
as death met thee in that short walk? The miseries of the winter before
Sebastopol will not easily be forgotten. The men who stormed the heights
of Alma, who in the dreadful fight of Inkermann conquered again amidst
fogs and darkness; of whom a mere handful at Balaclava were seen
charging an army, while all the world wondered; such men had proved
their steel, yet there is a limit to human endurance, and men of this
mould _have been seen to weep_. As on night after night, succeeding days
of _starvation_ and toil, they were ordered to their work in the
freezing trenches, who can estimate the exhausting misery?" But here
again he breaks forth "Shame on those officers who are resigning their
commissions, and deserting their country now in her hour of peril; a
thousand deaths before dishonour; let us not hesitate to bear the cross
daily. Think of Him who bore the cross for us. He was tempted in all
points like as we are, although without sin; the glory of our religion
is salvation through the blood of Jesus." In another "Yesterday I read
with great comfort the third of Colossians. In the advanced work (that's
next the enemy) I find Jesus more and more precious to my soul." Another
"My own darling Mother, the long expected box has at length arrived, and
its contents are now safely stowed away in my tent; and as the various
proofs of loving remembrances from you, dearest Mother, and from darling
Clara, Mary, Georgie, and the children, met my eyes, I was so much
affected that I nearly cried; may the Lord give me courage to speak
faithfully and earnestly." In writing to one of his sisters, our hero
penned the following:--"Oh! dearest Mary, it is well to have the love of
Jesus Christ in its reality in our hearts; what solid peace and rich
enjoyment we obtain in 'looking unto Jesus.' Where else should we behold
the boundless love of our Heavenly Father? What else could have led me
to the side of men dying of pestilence, for how could I have spoken to
these poor suffering creatures, of the love of God, but by 'looking unto
Jesus'; and to whom could I implore them to look, but to that precious
Lamb? Baptismal regeneration, Church Privileges, the Sacramental system,
Confession, and Priestly Absolution, may do for some people when in
health, but no smile of joy from the sick man, I believe, would ever be
the fruit of such miserable comforters in the last hour. When a dying
man can say or feel 'I know that my Redeemer liveth,' he wants no more;
he can then sing with all his heart--
'Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly.'"
We now come to the closing scene. He wrote in his last letter "The
greater part of another month is past, and here I am, still kept by the
protecting arm of the Almighty from all harm. I have been in many a
danger by night and day, since I last wrote to you my own beloved, but
the Lord has delivered me from them all, but not only so, but he has
likewise kept me in perfect peace, and made me glad with the light of
His countenance. In Jesus I find all I want of happiness or enjoyment,
and as week after week, and month after month roll by, I believe He is
becoming more and more lovely in my eyes, and precious to my soul." He
also said "I read Isaiah xli, and Cay[36] prayed; we walked together
during the day, and exchanged our thoughts about Jesus."
Thus, the last word he ever wrote was the name he loved best.
Twenty-four hours later, and his eyes had seen "the King in his beauty."
His soul to Him who gave it rose,
God led it to its long repose,
Its glorious rest;
And though the warrior's sun has set,
Its light will linger round us yet,
Bright, radiant, blest.
_Longfellow._
IN MEMORIAM.
His memory long will live alone
In all our hearts, as mournful light
That broods above the fallen sun,
And dwells in heaven half the night.
_Tennyson._
The following was the letter informing his friends of what had
happened:--
Camp before Sebastopol,
To Lord Rayleigh.
My Lord,
It is with the deepest sorrow that I write to announce the
death of Captain Vicars, of the 97th Regiment. He was killed
last night in the trenches, while gallantly cheering on his
men to the attack of a body of the enemy, who, taking
advantage of the darkness of the night, got close into our
trenches. From what I can glean of the affair, he rushed
bravely into the middle of them, knocked down two, and was
in the act of striking a third, when one of them shot him
through the right arm, high up, close to the shoulder; the
ball divided the principal artery, and he must soon have
bled to death; therefore it is a melancholy satisfaction to
know that his sufferings were short.
I cannot express my own sorrow and that of the Regiment at
the loss of so valuable an Officer, further than to say, as
regards myself, I feel that I have lost a brother; it was in
his society I felt the happiest: as regards the Regiment he
cannot be replaced. Contemplating his melancholy loss in the
light of a Christian, we indeed ought not to sorrow as those
who have no hope, for I feel sure no Officer in the whole
army was more prepared to meet his Saviour. I write to your
Lordship, as he told one of our Officers that his Mother was
staying with you, and he had given you directions in case
(as he said) of anything happening to him.
I am, &c.,
T. O. W. INGRAM,
Major, 97th Regt.
A dear friend of Captain Vicars wrote of his death as follows:--
To Lady Macgregor.
Camp before Sebastopol,
23rd March, 1855.
My dearest Mother,
This is a dark and sorrowful day with me; my heart is wrung,
my eyes red and hot with crying, I feel gloomy and sorrowful
altogether. My very dear friend, Vicars, was killed last
night; the Russians made a sortie, and while gallantly
leading on a handful of our men, to charge them out of our
works, he was mortally wounded by a ball striking him in the
right breast; he died soon after, and is now enjoying a
glorious rest in the presence of his Saviour. I do not pity
him, what more could we wish for him? He was fully prepared
for the most sudden death, and he died bravely, fighting and
doing his duty, but my heart bleeds for the loss of my
dearest friend and for the sake of his poor mother and
family. Such a death became such a life and such a soldier;
the most gallant, the most cheerful, the happiest, the most
universally respected Officer, and the most consistent
Christian soldier, has been taken from us by that ball, and
I know not how to live without him; he was my truest friend,
my most cheerful companion, and my friendly adviser on all
occasions, but as his Sergeant remarked, bitterly, this
morning, "He was too good to live." Noble fellow; he rushed
in front of his men and his powerful arm made more than one
Russian fall before that cruel bullet brought him down; it
must have been fired close to him, for his coat was singed;
I never knew how much I loved him until he was nearly dying
of the charcoal. When I heard at daylight this morning that
Vicars had been brought home dead, you may imagine my
excessive grief; I loved that man as dearly as a brother.
Oh, his poor mother and sisters that he loved so dearly! But
she is a Christian, and has lived to see her once wild and
reckless son come to the fold of Jesus, and prove his
sincerity by a long and unswerving and consistent course; I
also cut a lock of his fine curly hair this morning, as I
know his mother would like to get it. How he fearlessly
visited and spoke to the men, in the worst times of the
cholera, but, as he told me, he got his reward, for the
soldiers' dying lips besought blessings on his head. Oh! how
happy he is now; such a death, and such glory now; even in
death his habitual happy smile did not forsake him; the Lord
knew when and how to take him. Everyone liked and respected
Vicars, even those who did not agree with his strict
religion. How sadly we shall miss him in all our little
meetings. O God, help me to bear this sad affliction! Our
men got great praise for the fight last night, but who would
not go anywhere with such a leader? Farewell Vicars, my
loved companion. I knew when he went into action he would
show that a Christian soldier was a brave as well as a happy
man; I do not know exactly how it all was, I only vouch for
the above facts, and the terrible reality of poor Vicars'
noble frame lying in the Hospital tent, where I saw it. God
bless you, dearest Mother, and may He sanctify this severe
trial to my soul.
Your own
DOUGLAS.
In six months, Douglas Macgregor and Hedley Vicars had met again--they
were not long divided. On the fatal 8th September, Macgregor twice
fought his way into the Redan, the second time to come out no more. He
was found far in advance, on that blood-stained ground, lying beside a
cannon, in the sleep of death.
I knew Captain Vicars, and was near him the night that he fell, and can
say truly that the 97th and detachments of other Regiments, the 7th
Royal Fusiliers, 23rd Royal Welsh, 33rd, 34th, 2nd Rifles, 19th, 77th,
88th, 90th, and all Regiments of the Light Division, took a terrible
revenge for the life of this noble Christian, for he was loved by all
who knew him. I have referred at length to this event in an earlier
chapter of this little book. I hope to meet Captain Vicars again some
day, in that bright land above, where many who fought desperately in
that campaign will be found clad in robes prepared for all them that are
faithful to the end.
The following will, perhaps, be interesting:--
Extract from a letter of a Private Soldier of the 77th.
The loss of Captain Vicars is felt by many, many a one out
here; but he rejoices, and enjoys the fruits of his heavy
labours in the loving bosom of his God and Saviour.
Willingly would I have resigned my poor life to have
prevented the deadly blow. I wept for his loss, but now I
envy him his glory. I send you some clay I got off his
grave, and a rough sketch (but true) of his tombstone. His
men have ornamented the grave with shells, and flowers are
already growing there.
The next extract is from a letter by one of the soldiers of the 97th,
who fought their way through the ranks of the Russians, as they closed
round Vicars when he fell. The writer was a Roman Catholic.
Camp before Sebastopol,
28th June, 1855.
Madam,
I hope you will excuse the liberty I take in acknowledging
the receipt of your kind note of 20th May, 1855, and its
enclosure of half-a-sovereign; also the handsome good book
you were so kind as to send me. I am sure I have done
nothing to deserve such kindness; what I have done, in
striving to save the late beloved Captain Vicars, any one
Soldier in the Regiment would have done, for he was beloved
by everyone who knew him. As our Adjutant, he was loved by
everyone in the Regiment, and as Captain of No. 4. Company,
he was more so by his Company; there is scarcely a man in
the Regiment that would not have gladly laid down his own
life to save his. I am sorry that I cannot express my thanks
for your kind wishes and your handsome present--a book not
much read by the humble classes of my persuasion (Bible);
but your book I will read and study, so that I may become
worthy to meet your beloved friend, and our no less beloved
Captain, in Glory.
Your very obedient humble servant,
J. O. REILLY, No. 3 Company, 97th.
The following letter will be read with melancholy interest, as it is
from the pen of one who fell foremost in the Redan, whilst gallantly
leading the forlorn hope, on the 8th September, and who was followed to
a soldier's grave with no common regret--let us hope to meet with his
noble Captain.
Camp, 29th June, 1855.
My dear Lady Rayleigh,
My brother Officers have requested me to acknowledge your
kindness, and to thank you very much for your remembrance of
them in forwarding the books, descriptive of the life of
their poor friend and fellow-soldier, Captain Vicars.
Believe me, no one was, or could be, more regretted than he
is, for he was ever anxious, zealous, and attentive to his
duties, he was also most cheerful, self-denying, and
obliging to his friends and companions. The narrative truly
states, that whilst he entered, with all his heart, into the
interests and duties of a soldier, his lips and life told
one unchanging story of the love of Christ. It must be a
very great source of consolation to his mother to know that
in all this army, none, as far as human observation can
judge, was more prepared to meet his Maker. I was not in the
trench the night he suffered, but hearing that some wounded
men had been sent up, I had risen and gone to the Hospital
with the Doctor; whilst there, I was informed that he was
being brought in, and hastening to meet him, found, poor
fellow, that he had breathed his last--as his bearers
informed me, calmly and quietly, having spoken a few
minutes before I met them. I must beg you to convey my
condolences to his poor mother, to whom I would have written
at the time, had I known her address. I left the
correspondence to a personal and intimate friend of his,
Major Ingram.
Believe me, my dear Lady Rayleigh,
Most truly to remain yours,
A. F. WELSFORD
Major Commanding 97th.
The night of the 22nd March, 1855, was as dark as pitch; when the noble
Captain was brought into the trench a stretcher was procured, he was
placed upon it, and then he asked for a little water. To each one's
inquiry he answered cheerfully, and said that he believed his wound was
slight. But a main artery had been severed, and the life blood flowed
fast. He was quickly sent home to camp, but the bearers had only
proceeded a few paces onward when he faintly said, "Cover my face, cover
my face." What need for covering under the shadow of that dark night?
Was it not a sudden consciousness that he was entering into the presence
of the Holy God, before whom even the Angels veil their faces? As the
men laid him down at the door of his tent, a welcome from the armies of
the sky sounded in his hearing; he had fallen asleep.
* * * * *
In writing the foregoing narrative, I have had a single eye to the glory
of Him who said, "If any man serve Me, let him follow Me, and where I
am, there shall My servant be. If any man serve Me, him will my Father
honour."--_St. John 12th._
Go to thy grave, at noon from labour cease,
Rest on thy sheaves, thy harvest work is done;
Come from the heart of battle, and in peace,
Soldier, go home, with thee the fight is won.