JOURNEY PROM CHERBOURG.—KINDNESS OF M. DUBOIS.—AND ARRIVAL AT
EPINAL.
A circumstance occurred previous to the prisoners beginning their march,
which cannot be too generally known; as it does great honour to an
individual amongst our enemies, and is one of the many acts of kindness
shewn by the inhabitants of France, to the prisoners passing through the
country, where the general feeling was by no means so hostile to the
English, as is too frequently supposed. Hostility to this country was
almost entirely confined to the military in France.
The length of the journey they had to perform, rendered the prisoners
very solicitous about their pecuniary concerns, particularly as no person
at Cherbourg would discount their bills. Captain Brenton, in order to
increase his stock, offered his watch for sale at a watchmaker’s, who
would give him only five guineas for it, though the watch was made by a
first rate maker, and was of gold. He consequently left the spot with
some indignation. Whilst standing at the door of the Auberge a little
while after, he was addressed by a person who wished to know, if he had
not a watch to dispose of. Captain Brenton expecting a similar offer
to the last, answered, “Yes, but you will not buy it.” The stranger
replied, “That is more than you know, let me see it.” Upon examining
the watch, he asked the original price of it, and being told thirty-one
guineas; he said, “Were I to buy your watch, I would only give fifteen
guineas; but as I only mean to take it in pledge, I will let you have
twenty-five.” Captain Brenton, surprised at so novel a mode of making
a bargain, said laughing, “You are an honester fellow than I took you
for; give me the money, and take the watch.” The stranger’s name was M.
Dubois, a merchant of L’Orient. He came back in a few minutes, saying,
“Sir, I shall never forgive myself for having accepted a pledge from
an officer suffering from the fortune of war. Take back the watch and
give me your note of hand.” This being done with due acknowledgments on
the part of Captain Brenton, M. Dubois again left him, and in a short
time again returned with twenty-five louis more, saying, that he had
been examining his purse, and found that he had that sum more than was
necessary to carry him to L’Orient, and begging that he would accept of
that also. He then deposited it on the table, destroying the former note
of hand; and requesting that another might be made out to include both
sums. Captain Brenton in his additional remarks on the subject of the
watch, says, “Each time that M. Dubois, the kind merchant returned, he
exclaimed, “Monsieur, ma conscience me pique,” striking his breast; and
the last time exclaiming, “Ma conscience me pique encore.” I observed
that it must be a most unreasonable conscience, not to be satisfied with
what he had done; but he rejoined, “No, Sir, I ought not to have taken
any security from you.” Captain Brenton adds, “I am happy to say that in
the course of this war very many instances occurred of great benevolence
shewn towards the British prisoners in France; and in those cases where
they experienced harsh or cruel treatment, it almost always arose from
military power having been obtained by men, whose only recommendation
was their bravery, and who had no kind feelings to temper it; but these
instances were rare.”
It seems due to this excellent man, M. Dubois, whose singular kindness
and generosity alleviated the first bitternesses of captivity for the
captain and crew of the Minerve, to add a letter, which proves that
the act in question was not the sudden impulse of excited feeling on
contemplating their unhappy lot; but that it was part of a character in
which tenderness and sympathy with suffering predominated habitually.
“L’ORIENT, 6 PLUVIOSE, AN. 12.
27 JANVIER, 1804.
“MON CHER AMI,
A mon retour d’une petite absence, on me remit votre lettre
obligeante et amicale; et Je suis empressé d’y repondre. Il
seroit en vain que j’entreprendrois de vous rendre le plaisir
qu’elle m’a fait. Il n’y a, que des cœurs aimants capables de
s’en faire une idée.
“Je vous croyais depuis long temps échangé, et je vois avec
peine qu’il n’en est rien. Combien je partage les chagrins que
vous devez éprouver, de l’incertitude continuelle de votre
sort, depuis votre départ de Cherbourg; c’est de mon avis la
situation la plus pénible à supporter pour l’homme dont le
caractère ferme et décidé, est au dessus de tous les événemens.
“Vous êtes donc encore mon bien bon ami dans l’attente de votre
échange, et vous me faites entendre que vous ne la prevoyez pas
prochaine. Ah! Je sens combien votre situation est cruelle;
vous êtes depuis long temps éloigné de parens et amis qui vous
sont chers, et à qui sans doute vous l’êtes aussi, et c’est ce
qui augmente vos peines. Combien je désirerois qu’ il fut en
mon pouvoir de les alléger. Mais comment? nous sommes loin l’un
de l’autre. Si du moins le lieu de votre exil étoit L’Orient,
aidé par mon épouse et ma petite famille, nous vous offririons
les consolations de la plus tendre amitié, et si nous ne
parvenions pas à dissiper entièrement vos chagrins, au moins
réunis nous les partagerions. N’en doutez pas mon bien bon ami,
car nous sommes sincèrement affectés de vos peines, et mon
épouse (qui brule d’envie de vous connoitre, sur tout depuis
votre agréable lettre) sent aussi vivement que moi, les regrets
cuisants que vous éprouvez à’ être aussi long temps privé du
plaisir de revoir tout ce que vous aimez chez vous. Espérons
ensemble que ce moment si naturellement désiré de vous, n’est
pas éloigné, et qu’au premier instant vous jouirez enfin des
tendres embrassemens de tout ce qui vous est cher.
“Etes vous au moins à Verdun d’une manière agréable? Vous
laisse t’on la liberté de former quelque société, qui pourrait
vous distraire de vos ennuis? je le désire bien ardemment.
Je ne connais personne dans cette ville, mais si vous aviez
la faculté d’aller et venir dans son enceinte je ferais mes
efforts pour me procurer de divers amis quelques lettres de
recommendation pour vous.
“Le Mandat que vous nous aviez remis á été parfaitement
acquitté depuis plus de 3 mois; ainsi point d’inquiétude
de votre part à ce sujet; et quand il ne l’eut pas été
aussi promptement, ce n’aurait pas été un motif d’en avoir
d’avantage; vous meritez à ce sujet que je vous gronde un
peu; il ne devait plus être question entre nous de nouveaux
remerciemens (m’en aviez vous pas deja trop fait?) c’était
un arrêté pris avant mon départ, et vous y contrevenez; que
ce soit au moins pour la dernière fois, car penseriez vous
mon cher ami que le plaisir étoit pour vous seul? comptez
au contraire pour beaucoup celui que j’ai en faisant la
connoissance d’un galant homme comme vous, et de qui, je
continue à recevoir des marques d’un obligeant attachement. Ne
regardez point ceci comme un froid compliment, ma plume n’est
jamais que l’interpréte de mon cœur.
“Vous me faites l’offre obligeante de votre crédit pour moi,
et mes amis, que le sort de la guerre rendrait malheureux en
Angleterre. Je vous aime, et vous estime assez pour l’accepter
avec franchise au besoin, mais toujours avec la circonspection
que l’on doit au bon cœur d’un ami.
“Vous dire mon cher Capitaine avec quel plaisir je recevrai de
vos nouvelles toutes les fois que vous pourrez m’en donner, ne
serait rien vous apprendre de nouveau; puisque vous ne doutez
surement pas de l’attachement que je vous porte: ainsi obligez
moi de m’en donner le plus souvent possible, et sur tout l’avis
de votre échange quand il aura lieu.
“Je crois mon cher ami n’ avoir pas besoin de vous rappeller
que vous devez toujours librement et franchement disposer de
moi dans toutes les occasions; faites moi le plaisir de vous en
bien souvenir, et de croire de loin comme de pres, qui si les
vœux que je formerai toujours pour votre bonheur sont exaucés,
il ne vous restera rien a désirer.
“Il faut que je finisse mon Epitre. On ne s’ennuye pas quand on
cause avec de bons amis. Il ne faut cependant pas les fatiguer,
vous ne m’accuserez pas J’espére de Laconisme. Je trouverais au
surplus mon excuse dans le plaisir que j’ai á m’entretenir avec
vous.
“Agréez par continuation mon cher ami l’assurance des sentimens
d’estime et d’attachment avec lesquels je serai toujours votre
tout dévoué bon ami,
“L. DUBOIS.
“P. S. Rappeliez moi s’il vous plait au souvenir de Monsieur
Fenwick et de vos autres officiers dont je me souviens toujours
avec plaisir, et veuillez leur dire mille choses obligeantes de
ma part; ainsi qu’au cher fier Docteur que Je salue par trois
fois trois.
“Je viens aussi de recevoir une lettre de Monsieur Black, il
a fidélement rempli vos intentions près de moi, et je l’en
remercierai par ma prémiére.”
The seamen and marines of the Minerve began their march for Epinal on the
8th of July; and the officers on the following day. The sufferings of
the former, unprotected by their officers during this long march, were
extreme; assailed as they were by fatigue, hunger, and every privation.
The officers upon leaving the coast were accompanied only by three gens
d’armes, who treated them with every respect. They received notice of
the place which should terminate the day’s march, and made parties for
performing the journey without any restraint from their guards. They,
at the same time, shewed themselves deserving of such confidence by the
strictest compliance with the directions they had received, and the
utmost regularity of conduct.
On the third day they reached St. Lo, a military arrondisement, commanded
by General Dellegorgue, an officer who had served in Egypt, and who fully
appreciated British valour and British honour. He treated the prisoners
with the most marked attention; and indeed the hospitality evinced by the
inhabitants of St. Lo was such as to merit particular notice.
Captain Brenton’s notes have left some further particulars of this
march, and of the two days at St. Lo. He says, “All was now preparation
for the march, which was to commence on the 8th of July. The youngsters
were all animation and glow; their spirits were buoyant; and feeling
convinced that their detention would be short, they had made up their
minds to enjoy the events of the day, without care and without regret.
They knew that their term of service would go on in the same manner as
though they were at sea; and they looked forward to the time, when they
might return to their profession with much to relate, and the advantage
of having acquired at least some portion of the French language. Early
on the ninth we left Cherbourg, and having ascended the hill, took our
last farewell of the poor old Minerve, lying dismantled in the harbour.
The first day’s march brought us to Valogne, a distance of fifteen miles.
The weather was beautiful, as was the scenery; and we quite enjoyed the
release from the confinement of the Auberge. The ship’s company had gone
on the preceding day; and subsequently during the whole course of the
march to our ulterior destination, the officers arrived in the evening at
the place which the seamen and marines had left in the morning. On the
second day we reached Carentan; and on the third came in sight of St. Lo,
a beautiful little town on the slope of a hill. This place, we had been
given to understand, was to be our residence, and we rejoiced to find it
possessed of so many advantages.
“On entering the town I was conducted by the gens d’armes to the General,
and was received by him with all the urbanity and kindness possible.
He invited me to dine with him, and to bring my first lieutenant. This
officer being unwell, the second took his place. We had an elegant little
repast, and every possible attention shewn us. At the commencement of
the dinner I observed my lieutenant to evince a slight sign of disgust.
I asked the reason; and he replied, ‘They are frogs, Sir.’ The General
asked what the officer said, and on being told, was much amused at the
idea so prevalent among Englishmen, and especially English sailors,
that much of the French diet consists of frogs. In the course of our
conversation, I expressed my gratification that St. Lo should have
been made the place of our confinement. The General replied, that he
regretted much that there should be any disappointment, but that he had
received orders for the prisoners to march on to Epinal; and that a
military escort had been sent to conduct them to Caen, the capital of
Calvados, the department we were then in: and that we were to proceed
on our route the next day but one. On the 14th of July the prisoners
were assembled, and consigned to the custody of an officer of cavalry.
General Dellegorgue was present on this occasion, and when the prisoners
were ready to march, he came up to me, and embraced me in the warmest
manner; wishing me a speedy release from this captivity, and health, and
happiness. This interview was highly amusing to the young midshipmen, who
had never before witnessed such a demonstration of cordiality. One of
them was heard to exclaim, ‘See, the French General kissing our skipper;’
the familiar name by which the Captain is designated when spoken of by
the youngsters.
“According to the regulations of the march, the prisoners were billeted
separately upon the houses of the inhabitants. Upon repairing thither to
their beds at night, they found a supper prepared, and the friends of
the family invited to assist in entertaining the captive guest: nor did
it end here. The following day was to be one of repose, and the march
was postponed until the next. A dinner and supper was provided in the
same manner; and on the morning of departure, at sunrise, breakfasts were
prepared; nor could these worthy people be prevailed upon to receive any
indemnification for the trouble and expence they had incurred. From St.
Lo the escort was strengthened by the addition of a party of cavalry, and
the prisoners were marched in ranks, from which none were suffered to
deviate; an inconvenience greatly felt, when compared with the indulgence
they had received at first; the more so, as it confined them to the
middle of the road, covered them with dust from the horses, and kept them
on too quick a pace for such a march, and in so sultry a season.”
On arriving at Caen, Captain Brenton complained to the General of such
restriction being imposed on officers, who had given their parole of
honour. This General was the very reverse of the last; and he replied
in a brutal manner, “Je me moque de votre parole d’honneur. Je ne sais
pas ce que c’est, moi.” Captain Brenton replied, “I will describe it
to you. It is (with a British officer) stronger than any prison you
have in France.” The General threatened to take from them their parole,
but he did not put his threat in execution. After leaving Caen the
restrictions gradually increased, and at length the prisoners, upon
arriving at Bernay, were shut up in one room, with sentinels at the door;
the commander of the escort, at the same time, offering to order every
accommodation the inn could afford to be brought to them; an offer which
was disclaimed with disdain, unless they should be treated differently.
The commanding officer of the party then shewed Captain Brenton his
instructions from General ——; which were to guard his prisoners with
the utmost severity and vigilance, as well on the march as in the towns
where they should stop; and to grant them no indulgences on his peril.
He however said he felt so strongly the injustice that had been done
them, that, if Captain Brenton would be responsible for their conduct,
they should enjoy the same indulgence as when they began their march.
This was a condition he gladly accepted, and which was productive of all
the comfort of which their situation was susceptible. The worthy man
who thus promoted the comfort of the poor prisoners is now no more, and
consequently is out of the reach of the resentment of his General. The
remainder of their journey was performed with ease; and they reached
Epinal on the 12th of August, where they found their unfortunate
shipmates, who had arrived the preceding day. Some were in the hospital,
and the remainder in rags, and starving from the small quantity and
bad quality of their provisions. It is due to the liberality of M. M.
Peregaux to observe here, that in reply to a letter from Captain Brenton,
written from Pontoise, requesting them to send his drafts, and those of
his officers, to England for acceptance, and when honoured to remit the
amount to Epinal; that those gentlemen sent three hundred louis d’or to
Captain Brenton at St. Denis, and an order for four hundred more upon
Epinal; with offers of as much as they wished to draw for under Captain
Brenton’s endorsement.
Some additional particulars of this journey may be given from Captain
Brenton’s private notes. “Having heard of an English lady residing at
Caen, I called upon her. She immediately offered me all the assistance in
her power, and amongst other acts of kindness, made me a tender of her
credit with a banker, which I thankfully accepted, and procured fifty
louis. This was a very timely supply, as the fifty louis of M. Dubois
were not expected to last long amongst so many.”
“We were just seated at dinner at St. Denis, when a gentleman from M.
Peregaux was announced, who brought me three hundred louis in gold, and
a letter of credit for four hundred more upon M. Doublat, at Epinal,
with an assurance that any bills endorsed by me should be immediately
honoured. This conduct was truly noble, and a high compliment to the
British navy. No sooner was this act of liberality made known, than
there was a general cheer amongst the midshipmen, and indeed amongst all
hands. ‘I will walk no more,’ cried one; and ‘I will have a carriage
and drive myself,’ said another. In short, each one had some scheme of
future proceeding, and all were determined to be indemnified for past
fatigue. On the following day every description of carriage was put in
requisition, and the whole of the prisoners were provided for; but when
they found that all the carriages must be kept together, and go ‘au pas,’
in order to keep with the infantry, a portion of which formed a part of
the escort; the luxury of being carried ceased to have its charms; and
nearly the whole body returned to marching on foot, to which they had got
so much accustomed.”
Of his own feelings during this journey Captain Brenton speaks thus in
his notes, “I performed nearly the whole of the march on foot, and in
the heat of summer; yet I never remember to have enjoyed better health.
Indeed, under all my trials, I have experienced the same mercy and
goodness from Divine providence; and this has convinced me, that under
all my depressions of spirits, and despondencies, from which I have so
often derived unhappiness, it has been from want of exertion, and from
gloomy forebodings, in which I was most culpably indulging.”
Those who best knew him, would consider this to be more the language of
humility than of truth; but they must also feel convinced that it was
dictated by sincere conviction, and self-abasement. Again, adverting to
the period immediately following his arrival at Epinal, he writes, “From
the time of our arriving here I had frequent communication with England
by letters; and our hopes were constantly excited, or depressed, by the
various and contradictory reports which reached us: but I had one source
of comfort which never failed me—it was the contemplation of the goodness
of God towards me. I often contrasted my situation at that time, trying
as it was, with what it would have been, had I been united to a woman,
who would not have shared in my lot, as my beloved Isabella did. Her fond
affection would have prompted her to have flown to me instantly, but for
the prospect of my being immediately released. What advantages of beauty,
or splendour of fortune, can be put in competition with such a heart as
she possessed? with what lustre did she shine in the hour of trial. It
was at this time also, whilst living in peaceful retirement at Epinal,
where we certainly enjoyed tranquility, and with very few exceptions
experienced the greatest kindness from the French; that I began to
consider more attentively the nature of the religion I professed; and
I soon found that I had hitherto been a nominal Christian only. Since
that period I humbly trust every succeeding year has brought some little
increase in the knowledge of my duty; although I am still at an awful
distance from what I ought to be. My subsequent life has however been
greatly influenced by the reflections I then made. Sweet are the uses of
adversity.”
He adds these remarks on his first arriving at Epinal. “The hopes of an
immediate exchange having now vanished, I considered it my duty to take
the most prompt measures to render our captivity as advantageous, and
as little galling as possible, particularly to the young people, and to
the ship’s company. My first care was to have the young people, who had
been placed under my particular charge, put _en pension_ with respectable
French families; where they might have the advantage of regular hours,
and be enabled to learn the language with greater facility; instead
of living together, where nothing but English would have been spoken,
and much of their time passed in idleness. Here they had the advantage
of such masters as the place afforded. The early hours of the French
families greatly contributed to the health and comfort of those intrusted
to their care; whilst the very moderate terms paid for their board and
lodging, as well as for their instruction, enabled them to obtain great
advantages at a very low price. In fact the misfortune of having fallen
into the enemy’s hand, bid fair to be of the most essential benefit
to some, who had been sent to sea very little advanced in education,
particularly as their time of servitude went on as well as their pay,
in the same manner, as though they had actually continued afloat. The
officers and myself had of course each our private lodgings in the town;
but we formed a mess at the principal inn, where we had an excellent
dinner and supper, with wine included, for the very small sum of fifty
francs each per month, less than one shilling and sixpence sterling per
day.
“At (I believe) Gondrecourt, the march having been finished early in
the day, I had laid down, and had fallen asleep, when I was awakened by
English cheering under the windows; and looking out to ascertain the
cause of this unusual circumstance, was told that a courier from Paris
to Epinal had just passed, and had given the joyful information that
he was the bearer of orders for an exchange of prisoners, and that we
might expect to be marched back to the coast, even before we should
reach Epinal. This was so probable, that it was easily believed, and we
proceeded to Epinal, in the full persuasion that our stay there would be
very short. It is likely the report was well founded, for at this time
the British government had offered to exchange Captain Jurieu, taken in
the Franchise, for me; but it was refused by the first consul.”
Having thus seen the Captain and crew of the Minerve arrived at the end
of their journey; the Editor feels that he is justified in calling the
attention of his readers, to the circumstances under which the subject of
this memoir was then placed.
We have seen him in the previous narrative, slowly and gradually, amidst
various trials and disappointments, winning his way to that point in
his profession, which a just and reasonable ambition led him to desire.
We have seen him emerging out of difficulties which were likely to have
overwhelmed a man who was supported by no family or private interest,
and who was to rise, if he rose at all, by personal exertions. We
have seen him obtaining promotion, rank, and honour, and finally in
gaining the object of his early and persevering attachment, we have
seen him realizing all that he had hoped for or desired. And now at
the commencement of a new career, the career which to an ardent and
energetic spirit like his, must have seemed the most brilliant and full
of promise; in command of one of the finest frigates in the navy, at the
beginning of a war which seemed likely to be a struggle for life and
death between two mighty empires, when everything that his profession
could offer was before him; when rank and fortune, and what was dearer
than both to a mind like his, were apparently within his reach, and might
have been reasonably anticipated; he is doomed to open the campaign with
a disaster, which was not only in itself most afflicting, and likely
to affect his professional character; but which immediately involved
a captivity of interminable duration; a captivity to be rendered more
intolerable while it lasted, by hearing of what was done by others; and
which might be extended to such a length, as to mar all future prospect
of promotion or distinctions. It is only necessary for the reader to
place himself in such circumstances, and the imagination can easily
supply the pictures which might have presented themselves to Captain
Brenton’s mind on the occasion; and, notwithstanding this, we find him
in the hour of misfortune, calm if dejected; resigned to a lot which
seemed to involve the loss of all he had been seeking; and sustained
under defeat by the consciousness of having endeavoured to do his duty.
Something may be ascribed to temperament; something may be ascribed to
the buoyant character of a profession, which being cast in the midst of
dangers, lives by surmounting them, and grows habitually indifferent to
circumstances, by successfully struggling against them. But while we
cede much to causes like these, we need not cede more than is due. Many
officers no doubt shared the same hard destiny with him, and bore with
more or less equanimity the trial of captivity. No comparison is drawn,
nor attempted to be drawn, between their behaviour and his. Our object
is not to raise Captain Brenton on this occasion above others; but to
shew him as he was, and to describe how he felt and how he acted. It is
not essential that a model should be superior to every thing else of
the kind; but we feel that it is sufficient for the purpose, if it has
qualities that should be imitated, and that may be imitated; and we know
that that example is sometimes found to be the most beneficial, which
comes nearest to the level of him who is to be encouraged or directed by
its contemplation.
It is more than probable that Captain Brenton was but one of many in his
cheerful submission to his lot, as he was but one of many who experienced
the same misfortune during the war; and that the same discipline of
mind led to the same patience under trial in cases of which we know
nothing. But his circumstances it will be admitted were peculiar; and
it seems unquestionable that some higher influence than that of the
causes referred to, is necessary in order to account for the calmness of
mind he exhibited during the action, and for the cheerfulness which he
displayed at the commencement of his captivity. Temperament might have
done much, but in naming temperament, it seems fit to remind the reader
of the shock which his bodily system had experienced by the accident that
occurred, while the Minerve was fitting out. Concussion of the brain too
often leaves long and melancholy marks of the injury sustained by that
most delicate of all the elements which form the body. His professional
zeal we have seen had led him to anticipate the moment of recovery, and
to go to sea before he was capable of enduring the fatigues of service.
Reluctantly, and under a conviction of the absolute necessity of repose,
he had once left his ship and gone ashore; and when at last he resumed
his command, and sailed from Portsmouth for the coast of France, it is
obvious that he could hardly have been fit for service: and that it
was the spirit of the man which at that moment raised him above the
infirmities of the body. That in such a state of health he should have
undergone the trial of such a night, as that on which the Minerve was
lost; that he should have developed such a variety of resources for the
purpose of rescuing the ship from the position into which she had run;
that he should have met each crisis in the action, with such firmness and
self-possession, is sufficiently wonderful. It is equally surprising,
that after the excitement of the defence was over, he should have borne
the fatigues and humiliations of the march without sinking under them;
and I can not but think, that any one who takes all into consideration,
will come to the conclusion, that much which seems admirable, much of
that which seems surprising in his conduct; cannot be accounted for
through temperament or natural energy. I believe it must be referred
to that habitual reliance on God, which had been instilled into his
mind in childhood, which had been retained through all the trials of
his youth; which if it had not grown, as it might have done, had never
been obliterated or lost; but which lived to be called into activity
under peculiar circumstances; and which finally, through the mercy and
longsuffering of God, became that faith which works by love; and made him
capable of doing all things through Christ that strengthened him.
But the conclusion renders the example more valuable because it makes it
more accessible. If all was to be ascribed to natural causes, to firmness
of temperament and qualities peculiar to the individual, the portrait
might be admirable, but it could not be generally profitable. The many,
who make no pretence to such powers, would consider themselves released
from all duty of imitating an excellence which they could not attain to;
and all might feel that they were invited to follow a path, which it was
uncertain whether they should be able to accomplish. But when we not
only see an excellence described, which excites our admiration; but also
see the sources and springs from which it is derived laid open; when we
are allowed to feel, that many may attain to the eminence which is held
up as our example, if they will but follow the course, and adopt the
means that were made use of by those whom we admire; the advantage then
is multiplied, or rather an advantage is realised which before was little
more than problematical; and all will be encouraged to strive when there
is a hope that all may be successful.
The casual note in the private journal of the subject of this memoir
as to the uses of adversity, shews that he was conscious of the change
that was gradually moving forward within him, and of the need in which
he stood of strength and assistance from above. The life of excitement
which he had hitherto led, was not favourable to the developement or
growth of religious sentiment. The grace of God had kept alive the
spark, that early education had kindled; and He, who will not bruise
the broken reed, nor quench the smoking flax, had mercifully preserved
him from the grosser contagion of the world, through the influence of
that romantic attachment which added dignity to his youthful feelings,
and that thirst for glory which accompanied it. But the process which
protected him from what was evil, was not equally adapted to foster the
growth of what is good. The activity of service, the absorbing interest
connected with his profession in the time of war, saved him no doubt
from the evil inseparable from a life of ease; but his situation as an
officer offered no advantages of a religious kind, nothing to encourage
serious thought or reflection. In continual movement he had no leisure
for reading, no access to those means which are usually thought essential
to moral improvement; no opportunity of knowing how other men feel and
think on matters of a spiritual nature. In all these respects, repose
was necessary; and we may perhaps now be allowed to trace the hand of
providence in an event, which, afflictive as it was in itself, gave him
that interval of rest, which he never would have consented to seek, or to
accept if offered; and sent him for a time to meditate in the retirement
of captivity, on the state of his own soul, and the real end and object
of man’s being upon earth.
There can be no doubt that in a moral sense this calamity, for such it
seemed, and such it doubtless was for a time considered by himself, was
singularly beneficial. He then found leisure, and for the first time
probably in his life, to review his own principles, to consider his own
state, and to examine himself whether he was in the faith. It was a
blessed opportunity, but it was well that he was prepared to improve it.
Other men had it, but it is feared that few used it to the same purpose.
If the root of the matter had not been in him; if religion had not been
long known and truly honoured; if it had not already secured a hold on
his heart and affections; the leisure which was given would have been
employed as leisure too frequently is, by those who pass suddenly from
the excitement of active life, in indolence or folly. His time would in
that case have been wasted, the opportunity would have been lost, and the
gracious purpose of God would have been frustrated as to the effect it
seemed calculated to produce.
Happily for him, his mind was prepared for the trial. That habit of
realising God in everything that happened, and of cheerful submission to
his will, which formed a chief feature in his character, led in this case
to resignation. Conscious that as an officer he had done his duty, he
submitted to his lot with calmness; and instead of giving way to regret
and despondency as if all was lost because he had been once unfortunate;
he turned at once to the duties that were before him, and endeavoured
to be the protector and benefactor of those, whom he might have been
otherwise leading to victory as their commander. With this wholesome
occupation the mind had no leisure to prey upon itself, and to destroy
its own energies by comparing what might have been his state with that
which was. Captivity ceased to be irksome. The future was no longer
gloomy, while the present moment was profitably employed. The withdrawal
from the anxieties and fatigues of actual service was salutary, and he
felt its beneficial effects in mind as well as in body; and through
the influence of religious feelings on a mind prepared to admit them,
an interval which might have been past in murmurings and unprofitable
recollections, became, as we shall see in the subsequent pages of the
memoir, a season of calm enjoyment and of real permanent improvement.