LETTERS.
I will therefore draw back the veil, and show my much honoured friend in
his most secret recesses, that the world may see what those springs were,
from whence issued that clear, permanent and living stream of wisdom,
piety, and virtue, which so evidently ran through all that part of his
life which was open to public observation. It is not to be imagined that
letters written in the intimacy of Christian friendship, some of them
with the most evident marks of haste, and amidst a variety of important
public cares, should be adorned with any studied elegance of expression,
about which the greatness of his soul would not allow him to be at any
time very solicitous, for he generally (as far as I could observe) wrote
as fast as his pen could move, which, happily both for him and his many
friends, was very freely. Yet here the grandeur of his subject has
sometimes clothed his ideas with a language more elevated than is
ordinarily to be expected in an epistolary correspondence. The proud
scorners who may deride sentiments and enjoyments like those which this
truly great man so experimentally and pathetically describes, I pity from
my heart, and grieve to think how unfit they must be for the hallelujahs
of heaven, who pour contempt upon the nearest approaches to them; nor
shall I think it any misfortune to share with so excellent a person their
profane derision. It will be infinitely more than an equivalent for all
that such ignorance and petulancy can think and say, if I may convince
some, who are as yet strangers to religion, how real and how noble its
delights are--if I may engage my pious readers to glorify God for so
illustrious an instance of his grace--and finally, if I may quicken them,
and, above all, may rouse my own too indolent spirit to follow with less
unequal steps an example, to the sublimity of which, I fear, few of us
shall, after all, be able fully to attain. And that we may not be too
much discouraged under the deficiency, let it be recollected that few
have the advantage of a temper naturally so warm; few have an equal
command of retirement; and perhaps hardly any one who thinks himself
most indebted to the riches and freedom of divine grace, can trace
interpositions of it in all respects equally astonishing.
The first of these extraordinary letters which have fallen into my hand,
is dated near three years after his conversion, and addressed to a
lady of quality. I believe it is the first the major ever wrote, so
immediately on the subject of his religious consolations and converse
with God in devout retirement; for I well remember that he once told me
he was so much afraid that something of spiritual pride should mingle
itself with the relation of such kind of experiences, that he concealed
them a long time; but observing with how much freedom the sacred writers
open all the most secret recesses of their hearts, especially in the
Psalms; his conscience began to be burdened, under an apprehension that,
for the honour of God, and in order to engage the concurrent praises of
some of his people, he ought to disclose them. On this he set himself to
reflect who among all his numerous acquaintance seemed at once the most
experienced Christians, (to whom, therefore, such things as he had to
communicate might appear solid and credible,) and who the humblest. He
quickly thought of the Lady Marchioness of Douglas in this view; and the
reader may well imagine that it struck my mind very strongly, to think
that now, more than twenty-four years after it was written, Providence
should bring to my hands (as it has done within these few days) what I
assuredly believe to be a genuine copy of that very letter, which I had
not the least reason to expect I should ever have seen, when I learned
from his own mouth, amidst the freedom of an accidental conversation, the
occasion and circumstances of it. It is dated from London, July 21, 1722,
and the very first lines of it relate to a remarkable circumstance which,
from others of his letters, I find happened several times; I mean, that
when he had received from any of his Christian friends a few lines which
particularly affected his heart, he could not stay till the stated return
of his devotional hour, but immediately retired to pray for them, and to
give vent to those religious emotions of mind which such a correspondence
raised. How invaluable was such a friend! and what great reason have
those of us who once possessed a large share in his heart, and in those
retired and sacred moments, to bless God for so singular a felicity;
and to comfort ourselves in a pleasing hope that we may yet reap future
blessings, as the harvest of those petitions which he can no more repeat.
His words are these:
"I was so happy as to receive yours just as I arrived, and had no sooner
read it but I shut my door, and sought Him whom my soul loveth. I sought
him, and found him; and would not let him go till he had blessed us all.
It is impossible to find words to express what I obtained; but I suppose
it was something like that which the disciples got, as they were going
to Emmaus, when they said, 'Did not our hearts burn within us,' &c.; or
rather like what Paul felt, when he could not tell whether he was in the
body, or out of it."
He then mentions his dread of spiritual pride, from whence he earnestly
prays that God may deliver and preserve him.
"This," says he, "would have hindered me from communicating these things,
if I had not such an example before me as the man after God's own heart,
saying, 'I will declare what God hath done for my soul;' and elsewhere,
'The humble shall hear thereof, and be glad.' Now I am well satisfied
that your ladyship is of that number."
He then adds:
"I had no sooner finished this exercise," that is of prayer above
mentioned, "but I sat down to admire the goodness of my God, that he
would vouchsafe to influence by his free Spirit so undeserving a wretch
as I, and to make me thus to mount up with eagles' wings. And here I was
lost again, and got into an ocean, where I could find neither bound nor
bottom; but was obliged to cry out with the apostle, 'O the breadth,
the length, the depth, the height of the love of Christ, which passeth
knowledge!' But if I gave way to this strain I shall never have done.
That the God of hope may fill you with all joy and peace in believing,
that you may abound in hope through the power of the Holy Ghost, shall
always be the prayer of him who is, with the greatest sincerity and
respect, your Ladyship's," &c.
Another passage to the same purpose I find in a memorandum, which he
seems to have written for his own use, dated Monday, March 11, which I
perceive, from many concurrent circumstances, must have been in the year
1722-3.
"This day," says he, "having been to visit Mrs. G. at Hampstead, I came
home about two, and read a sermon on these words, Psalm cxxx. 4, 'But
there is forgiveness with thee, that thou mayest be feared;' about the
latter end of which, there is a description of the miserable condition of
those that are slighters of pardoning grace. From a sense of the great
obligations I lie under to the Almighty God, who hath made me to differ
from such, from what I was, and from the rest of my companions, I knelt
down to praise his holy name; and I know not in my lifetime I ever lay
lower in the dust, never having had a fuller view of my own unworthiness.
I never pleaded more strongly the merits and intercession of Him who
I know is worthy--never vowed more sincerely to be the Lord's, and to
accept of Christ, as he is offered in the gospel, as my King, Priest,
and Prophet--never had so strong a desire to depart, that I might sin no
more; but 'my grace is sufficient,' curbed that desire. I never pleaded
with greater fervency for the Comforter, which our blessed Lord hath
promised shall abide with us for ever. For all which, I desire to ascribe
glory &c. to Him that sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb."
There are several others of his papers, speaking much the same language,
which, had he kept a diary, would, I doubt not, have filled many sheets.
I believe my devout readers would not soon be weary of reading extracts
of this kind; but that I may not exceed in this part of my narrative, I
shall mention only two more, each of them dated some years after; that
is, one from Douglas, April 1, 1725; and the other from Stranraer, 25th
May following.
The former of these relates to the frame of his spirit on a journey; on
the mention of which, I cannot but recollect how often I have heard him
say that some of the most delightful days of his life were days in which
he travelled alone, (that is, with only a servant at a distance,) when he
could, especially in roads not much frequented, indulge himself in the
pleasures of prayer and praise. In the exercise of this last, he was
greatly assisted by several psalms and hymns which he had treasured up in
his memory, and which he used not only to repeat aloud, but sometimes to
sing. In reference to this, I remember the following passage, in a letter
which he wrote to me many years after, when, on mentioning my ever dear
and honoured friend the Rev. Dr. Watts, he says, "How often, in singing
some of his psalms, hymns, or lyrics, on horseback and elsewhere, has the
evil spirit been made to flee:
"'Whene'er my heart in tune was found,
'Like David's harp of solemn sound!'"
Such was the first of April above mentioned. In the evening of that day
he writes thus to an intimate friend:--
"What would I have given this day, upon the road, for paper, pen, and
ink, when the Spirit of the Most High rested upon me! Oh for the pen of a
ready writer, and the tongue of an angel, to declare what God hath done
this day for my soul! But, in short, it is in vain to attempt it. All
that I am able to say, is this, that my soul has been for some hours
joining with the blessed spirits above in giving glory, and honour, and
praise unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb, for ever
and ever. My praises began from a renewed view of Him whom I saw pierced
for my transgressions. I summoned the whole hierarchy of heaven to join
with me, and I am persuaded they all echoed back praise to the Most High.
Yon, one would have thought the very larks joined me with emulation.
Sure, then, I need not make use of many words to persuade you, that
are his saints, to join me in blessing and praising his holy name." He
concludes, "May the blessing of the God of Jacob rest upon you all!
Adieu. Written in great haste, late and weary."
Scarcely can I here refrain from breaking out into more copious
reflections on the exquisite pleasures of true religion, when risen to
such eminent degrees, which can thus feast the soul in its solitude, and
refresh it on journeys, and bring down so much of heaven to earth as this
delightful letter expresses. But the remark is so obvious, that I will
not enlarge upon it; but proceed to the other letter above mentioned,
which was written the next month, on the Tuesday after a sacrament day.
He mentions the pleasure with which he had attended a preparation sermon
the Saturday before; and then he adds:
"I took a walk upon the mountains that are over against Ireland; and, I
persuade myself, that were I capable of giving you a description of what
passed there, you would agree that I had much better reason to remember
my God from the hills of Port Patrick than David from the land of Jordan,
and of the Hermonites, from the hill of Mizar." I suppose he refers to
the clearer discoveries of the gospel with which we are favoured. "In
short," says he immediately afterwards, in that scripture phrase which
had become so familiar to him, "I wrestled some hours with the Angel of
the covenant, and made supplications to him with floods of tears, and
cries--until I had almost expired; but he strengthened me so, that, like
Jacob, I had power with God, and prevailed. This," adds he, "is but a
very faint description; you will be more able to judge of it by what you
have felt yourself upon the like occasions. After such preparatory work,
I need not tell you how blessed the solemn ordinance of the Lord's supper
proved to me; I hope it was so to many. You may believe I should have
been exceeding glad, if my gracious Lord had ordered it so, that I might
have made you a visit, as I proposed; but I am now glad it was ordered
otherwise, since he hath caused so much of his goodness to pass before
me. Were I to give you an account of the many favours my God hath loaded
me with, since I parted from you, I must have taken up many days in
nothing but writing. I hope you will join with me in praises for all the
goodness he has shown to your unworthy brother in the Lord."
Such were the ardours and elevation of his soul. But while I record these
memorials of them, I am very sensible that there are many who will be
inclined to censure them as the flights of enthusiasm; for which reason,
I must beg leave to add a remark or two on the occasion, which will be
illustrated by several other extracts, which I shall introduce into the
sequel of these memoirs. The one is, that he never pretends, in any of
the passages cited above, or elsewhere, to have received from God any
immediate revelations which should raise him above the ordinary methods
of instruction, or discover any thing to him, whether of doctrines or
facts. No man was further from pretending to predict future events,
except from the moral prognostications of causes naturally tending to
produce them, in tracing of which he had indeed an admirable sagacity,
as I have seen in some very remarkable instances. Neither was he at all
inclinable to govern himself by secret impulses upon his mind, leading
him to things for which he could assign no reason but the impulse itself.
Had he ventured, in a presumption on such secret agitations of mind, to
teach or to do any thing not warranted by the dictates of sound sense and
the word of God, I should readily have acknowledged him an enthusiast,
unless he could have produced some other evidence than his own persuasion
to have supported the authority of them. But these ardent expressions,
which some may call enthusiasm, seem only to evince a heart deeply
affected with a sense of the divine presence and perfections, and of that
love which passeth knowledge, especially as manifested in our redemption
by the Son of God, which did indeed inflame his whole soul. And he
thought he might reasonably ascribe these strong impressions, to which
men are generally such strangers, and of which he had long been entirely
destitute, to the agency or influences of the Spirit of God upon his
heart; and that, in proportion to the degree in which he felt them, he
might properly say, God was present with him, and he conversed with
God.[*] Now, when we consider the scriptural phrases of "walking with
God," of "having communion with the Father and his Son Jesus Christ," of
"Christ's coming to them that open the door of their hearts to him, and
supping with them," of "God's shedding abroad his love in the heart of
the Spirit," of "his coming with Jesus Christ, and making his abode with
any man that loves him," of "his meeting him that worketh righteousness,"
of "his making us glad by the light of his countenance," and a variety
of other equivalent expressions,--I believe we shall see reason to judge
much more favourably of such expressions as those now in question, than
persons who, themselves strangers to elevated devotion, perhaps converse
but little with their Bible, are inclined to do; especially, if they
have, as many such persons have, a temper that inclines them to cavil and
find fault. And I must further observe, that amidst all those freedoms
with which this eminent Christian opens his devout heart to the most
intimate of his friends, he still speaks with profound awe and reverence
of his Heavenly Father and his Saviour, and maintains (after the example
of the sacred writers themselves,) a kind of dignity in his expressions,
suitable to such a subject, without any of that fond familiarity of
language, and degrading meanness of phrase, by which it is, especially
of late, grown fashionable among some (who nevertheless I believe mean
well,) to express their love and their humility.
[*Note: The ingenious and pious Mr. Grove (who, I think, was as little
suspected of running into enthusiastical extremes as most divines I could
name,) has a noble passage to this purpose in the sixth volume of his
Posthumous Works, p.10, 11, which, respect to the memory of both these
excellent persons, inclines me to insert here,
"How often are the good thoughts suggested," (viz. to the pure in heart)
"heavenly affection kindled and inflamed! How often is the Christian
prompted to holy actions, drawn to his duty, restored, quickened,
persuaded, in such a manner, that he would be unjust to the Spirit of God
to question his agency in the whole! Yes, on my soul! there is a Supreme
Being, who governs the world, and is present with it, who takes up his
more special habitation in good men, and is nigh to all who call upon
him, to sanctify and assist them! Hast thou not felt him, oh my soul!
like another soul, [Transcriber's note: illegible] thy faculties,
exalting thy views, purifying thy passions, exalting thy graces, and
begetting in thee an abhorrence of sin, and a love of holiness? Is not
all this an argument of His presence, as truly as if thou didst see."]
On the whole, if habitual love to God, firm faith in the Lord Jesus
Christ, a steady dependence on the divine promises, a full persuasion of
the wisdom and goodness of all the dispensations of Providence, a high
esteem for the blessings of the heavenly world, and a sincere contempt
for the vanities of this, can properly be called enthusiasm, then was
Colonel Gardiner indeed one of the greatest enthusiasts which our age
has produced; and in proportion to the degree in which he was so, I must
esteem him one of the wisest and happiest of mankind. Nor do I fear to
tell the world that it is the design of my writing these memoirs, and of
every thing else that I undertake in life, to spread this glorious and
blessed enthusiasm, which I know to be the anticipation of heaven, as
well as the most certain way to it.
But lest any should possibly imagine, that allowing the experiences which
have been described above to have been ever so solid and important, yet
there may be some appearances of boasting in so free a communication of
them, I must add to what I have hinted in reference to this above, that
I find in many of the papers before me very genuine expressions of the
deepest humility and self-abasement, which indeed such holy converse with
God in prayer and praise does, above all things in the world, tend to
inspire and promote. Thus, in one of his letters he says, "I am but as
a beast before him." In another he calls himself "a miserable
hell-deserving sinner." And in another he cries out, "Oh, how good
a master do I serve! but, alas, how ungrateful am I! What can be so
astonishing as the love of Christ to us, unless it be the coldness of our
sinful hearts towards such a Saviour?" There were many other clauses of
the like nature, which I shall not set myself more particularly to trace
through the variety of letters in which they occur.
It is a further instance of this unfeigned humility, that when (as his
lady with her usual propriety of language expresses it in one of her
letters to me concerning him,) "these divine joys and consolations were
not his daily allowance," he, with equal freedom, in the confidence of
Christian fellowship, acknowledges and laments it. Thus, in the first
letter I had the honour of receiving from him, dated from Leicester, July
9, 1739, after mentioning the blessing with which it had pleased God to
attend my last address to him, and the influence it had upon his mind,
he adds, "Much do I stand in need of every help to awaken me out of that
spiritual deadness which seizes me so often. Once, indeed, it was quite
otherwise with me, and that for many years:
"'Firm was my health, my day was bright,
And I presumed 't would ne'er be night,
Fondly I said within my heart,
Pleasure and peace shall ne'er depart,
But I forgot, thine arm was strong,
Which made my mountain stand so long;
Soon as thy face began to hide,
My health was gone, my comforts died.'
And here," adds he, "lies my sin and my folly."
I mention this, that the whole matter may be seen just as it was, and
that other Christians may not be discouraged if they feel some abatement
of that fervour, and of those holy joys which they may have experienced
during some of the first months or years of their spiritual life. But,
with relation to the colonel, I have great reason to believe that those
which he laments as his days of spiritual deadness were not unanimated;
and that quickly after the date of this letter, and especially nearer the
close of his life, he had further revivings, as the joyful anticipation
in reserve of those better things which were then nearly approaching. And
thus Mr. Spears, in the letter I mentioned above, tells us he related
the matter to him, (for he studies as much as possible to retain the
colonel's own words): "However," says he, "after that happy period
of sensible communion, though my joys and enlargements were not so
overflowing and sensible, yet I have had habitual real communion with
God from that day to this"--the latter end of the year 1743--"and I know
myself, and all that know me see, that through the grace of God, to which
I ascribe all, my conversation has been becoming the gospel; and let me
die whenever it shall please God, or wherever it shall be, I am sure
I shall go to the mansions of eternal glory," &c. This is perfectly
agreeable to the manner in which he used to speak to me on this head,
which we have talked over frequently and largely.
In this connection I hope my reader will forgive my inserting a little
story which I received from a very worthy minister in Scotland, and which
I shall give in his own words: "In this period," meaning that which
followed the first seven years after his conversion, "when his complaint
of comparative deadness and languor in religion began, he had a dream,
which, though he had no turn at all for taking notice of dreams, yet made
a very strong impression upon his mind. He imagined he saw his blessed
Redeemer on earth, and that he was following him through a large field,
following him whom his soul loved, but much troubled, because he thought
his blessed Lord did not speak to him, till he came up to the gate of a
burying-place, when, turning about, he smiled upon him in such a manner
as filled his soul with the most ravishing joy, and on after reflection
animated his faith in believing that whatever storms and darkness he
might meet with in the way, at the hour of death his glorious Redeemer
would lift up upon him the light of his life-giving countenance." My
correspondent adds a circumstance for which he makes some apology,
as what may seem whimsical, and yet made some impression on the
colonel,--"that there was a remarkable resemblance in the field in which
this brave man met his death, and that he had represented to him in the
dream." I did not fully understand this at first; but a passage in that
letter from Mr. Spears, which I have mentioned more than once, has
cleared it:
"Now observe, sir, this seems to be a literal description of the place
where this Christian hero ended his sorrows and conflicts, and from which
he entered triumphantly into the joy of his Lord; for, after he fell in
the battle, fighting gloriously for his king, and the cause of his God,
his wounded body, while life was yet remaining, was carried from the
field of battle by the east side of his own enclosure, till he came to
the church-yard of Tranent, and was brought to the minister's house,
where, about an hour after, he breathed out his soul into the hands of
his Lord, and was conducted to his presence, where there is fulness of
joy, without any cloud or interruption, for ever."
I well know that in dreams there are diverse vanities, and readily
acknowledge that nothing certain could be inferred from this; yet it
seems at least to show which way the imagination was working even in
sleep; and I cannot think it unworthy of a wise and good man sometimes
to reflect with complacency on any images which, passing through his mind
even in that state, may tend either to express or to quicken his love
to the great Saviour. Those eminently pious divines of the Church of
England, Bishop Bull and Bishop Konn, do both intimate it as their
opinion that it may be a part of the service of ministering angels to
suggest devout dreams[1] and I know that the worthy person of whom I
speak was well acquainted with that evening hymn of the latter of those
excellent writers which has these lines:
"Lord lest the tempter me surprise,
Watch over thine own sacrifice!
All loose, all idle thoughts cast out;
And make my very _dreams_ devout!"
Nor would it be difficult to produce other passages much to the same
purpose,[2] if it would not be deemed too great a digression from our
subject, and too laboured a vindication of a little incident of very
small importance when compared with most of those which make up this
narrative.[3]
[Footnote 1: Bishop Bull has these remarkable words: "Although I am no
doater on dreams, yet I verily believe that some dreams are monitory,
above the power of fancy, and impressed upon us by some superior
intelligence. For of such dreams we have plain and undeniable instances
in history, both sacred and profane, and in our own age and observation.
Nor shall I so value the laughter of sceptics, and the scoffs of
epicureans, as to be ashamed to profess that I myself have had some
convincing experiments of such impressions." _Bishop Bull's Sermons and
Discourses_, Vol. II, pp. 489, 490.]
[Footnote 2: If I mistake not, the same Bishop Konn is the author of a
_midnight hymn_ coinciding with these words:
"May my ethereal Guardian kindly spread
His wings, and from the tempter screen my head;
Grant of celestial light some passing beams,
To bless my sleep, and sanctify my dreams!"
As he certainly was of these exactly parallel lines:
"Oh may my Guardian, while I sleep,
Close to my bed his vigils keep;
His love angelical distil,
Stop all the avenues of ill!
May he celestial joys rehearse,
And thought to thought with me converse!"]
[Footnote 3: See Appendix I.]