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 retarded by them when he should
resort to the house of God. 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 passed 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 God to bow to a
fellow-creature, which he thought a much greater indecency that it would
be, on a little occasion and circumstance, 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 circumstances 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
God, 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
substitute 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 God 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 God, 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 assuredly believed to be capable of such fair support both from reason
and the word of God, 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 passionate 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 nobler, 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 God 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 God which should
attend her for ever. She insisted, therefore, to be raised up in her bed,
that she might bless God 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
circumstance to glorify God 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 illustrious 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 nobler principle.