THE AUTHOR RETIRES FROM THE ARMY—SHOULD A SOLDIER BE
RELIGIOUS?—SCRIPTURE HEROES: ABRAM, JOSHUA, DEBORAH, JEPHTHAH,
GIDEON, SAMSON, SAUL, AND DAVID—OTHER GODFEARING SOLDIERS: THE
THUNDERING LEGION, ALFRED THE GREAT, GENERAL DYKERN, COLONEL
GARDINER, FREDERIC OF PRUSSIA, COLONEL BERDELEBEN.
In November, 1823, on another reduction in the army, I finally retired
from the service. The leisure thus afforded induced me to look within,
not with the superficial survey of former years, but with a desire and
determination to discover my real condition as a moral and accountable
creature; in other words, the facts and verities of the Christian
religion were revealed to my mind with new and affecting power. To many
this will appear strange, to some ridiculous; and there are a few who
will ask, why a soldier of spirit, above all others, should trouble
himself about the concerns of religion. I answer that question by asking
another,—Why should he not? He has as deep an interest in gospel truth
as any other person; and if piety of life be deemed essential for any
person in any station of society, it is not less so for him. I
apprehend, that if there be any difference between civil and military
life, in this respect, the soldier ought to be the _most_ religious; for
his life is usually in greater jeopardy than that of the man of peace.
Death, it is true, comes to all men sooner or later; but the soldier
often anticipates its approach by the perils of active warfare. Others
have objected, that for military men, who are proverbial for
licentiousness, to set up for extraordinary sanctity, is not only
uncalled for, but absurd and hypocritical. I again ask, Why so? If
soldiers are actually so very bad, both in pretension and reality, they
stand so much the more in need of religion to make them better.
Salvation is a girdle which encompasses the world; and why a man is to
be excluded from its benefits because he had defended his country’s
right at the sword’s point, and hazard of his life and fame, I have yet
to learn.
But, say some, there is something so pitiful and gloomy in a soldier who
professes to be religious. There we are again at issue; and I consent to
try the question by this single test. I affirm the converse; and aver,
that pity must fall only on the irreligious, who are often gloomy and
sad from certain assaults of conscience, known only to themselves; while
some of the most intrepid and courageous men who ever lived were noted
for obedience to Divine law; and, what is more to the present purpose,
many of the ablest warlike achievements ever effected were planned and
executed by pious soldiers. What is more extraordinary still, we shall
presently discover that the success of many an expedition depended upon
that piety; and that the Almighty Ruler of the universe granted or
withheld the victory, to or from those whose hearts were right with Him.
It is not a little singular that one of the first battles recorded in
Scripture consisted of a well-conducted expedition formed and led on by
one of the greatest saints that ever lived; and the circumstances, so
far from being stated to his disparagement, evidently redound to his
honour. Soon after the combat in the Vale of Siddim, which was full of
slime pits, Lot, the nephew of Abram, was taken prisoner, and his
property carried away by the four kings commanding the victorious
forces. When the disaster was made known to Abram, he armed and led
forth his trained servants, three hundred and eighteen in number, and
pursued the army unto Dan. He there made the needful dispositions for
the approaching conflict; and, as his detachment was of far inferior
numerical strength, when compared with the opposing force, he properly
resolved upon a night attack. To use the emphatic language of holy writ,
there ‘he smote them, and pursued them unto Hobah, which is on the left
hand of Damascus;’ and to show that the discomfiture was complete, it is
added, ‘he brought back all the goods, and his brother Lot, the women
also, and the people.’ This action is enhanced when the principle is
examined which induced it. Abram fought not for his own profit, but for
the welfare and credit of his country. When rewards were tendered, he
refused them. ‘I have,’ said he unto the king of Sodom, ‘lift up mine
hand unto the Lord, the most high GOD, the possessor of heaven and
earth, that I will not take from a thread even to a shoe-latchet, lest
thou shouldest say, I have made Abram rich.’
The valour and success of a religious captain are also shown during the
hostile advances of the Israelites through the wilderness, nearly five
hundred years after the event just recited. Among other opponents,
Sihon, the Amoritish king, endeavoured to dispute their passage. We do
not discover that recourse was had to tedious and doubtful negotiations.
It was probably shown to the Israelitish leader, by divine impulse, that
with enemies so treacherous treaties were vain. At all events, an
immediate battle took place; Israel smote the foe with the edge of the
sword, after which the forces ‘turned and went up by the way of Bashan;
and Og, the king of Bashan went out against them, he and his people, to
the battle at Edrei.’ That monarch fell, and all his people; and it is
remarkable that the Israelitish chieftain was no other than the meek and
pious Moses, who had received the special command of the Almighty to
extirpate their enemies, who, we have therefore reason to believe, had
filled up the measure of their iniquity, and were no longer fit to live.
[Illustration: ABRAM RETURNING FROM THE SLAUGHTER OF THE KINGS.]
An instructive and highly curious circumstance is recorded in the Book
of Joshua, which discovers that religion not only sits well upon the
warrior, but that impiety is the bane of military life. In consequence
of a certain trespass committed by Achan the son of Carmi, the
Israelitish army became absolutely useless. They fled before the men of
Ai, who ‘chased them from before the gate even unto Thebarim, and smote
them in the going down so that the hearts of the people melted, and
became as water.’ Now, mark the difference when Joshua took the command.
Five kings with their combined armies advanced against the Gibeonites,
who, naturally alarmed, despatched a messenger to their allies,
requesting help. Joshua, like all other good men, lost no time in doing
a good action. He did not let the grass grow under his feet. He came on
the enemy ‘suddenly, and went up from Gilgal all night, and slew them
with a great slaughter at Gibeon, and chased them along the way that
goeth to Bethhoron, and smote them to Azekah, and unto Makkedah.’
What is, in some respects, more singular, the Israelites were
subsequently delivered from a foreign yoke by the heroism of a religious
woman. This was Deborah, a prophetess, the wife of Lapidoth. For twenty
years her country had groaned beneath the iron hand of Jabin, the
Canaanite, of whose numerous armies Sisera was captain. Under the
direction of Deborah, the Israelites, amounting only to ten thousand,
joined battle with their oppressors. The adversary was completely
beaten, so that not a man survived to tell the tale of their defeat;
and, lest the shadow of doubt should rest upon these active operations,
conducted as they were by the wise and good, they were celebrated, and
thus rendered immortal, by one of the noblest odes on record, written,
without doubt, under plenary inspiration: while pointed maledictions are
levelled against those lukewarm friends whose supineness kept them from
the righteous fray. Let us listen a minute. ‘The inhabitants of the
villages ceased, they ceased in Israel, until that I Deborah arose, that
I arose a mother in Israel. They fought from heaven; the stars in their
courses fought against Sisera. The river of Kishon swept them away, that
ancient river, the river Kishon. O my soul, thou hast trodden down
strength. Curse ye Meroz, said the angel of the Lord, curse ye bitterly
the inhabitants thereof; because they came not to the help of the Lord,
to the help of the Lord against the mighty. So let all thine enemies
perish, O Lord; but let them that love Him be as the sun when he goeth
forth in his might.’ The result of these spirited demonstrations was of
the most substantial order; for it is particularly noted that the land
had rest forty years.
We find, also, that Gideon and Jephthah were of the same noble line of
godly soldiery. The former rescued his country from Midianitish
despotism; and the latter put down the children of Ammon. ‘He smote them
from Aroer, even till thou come to Minnith, even twenty cities, and unto
the plain of the vineyards, with a very great slaughter.’ I scarcely
need add, that the sympathy of succeeding generations has been excited
by his rash and thoughtless vow connected with the virtuous and
noble-minded conduct of his daughter. But his fame, as the brave and
pious defender of his people, can never be tarnished.
About eleven centuries before the Christian era, another prodigy arose.
This was a man of superhuman physical power; and, what is most
remarkable, the feats resulting from his prodigious strength were
performed chiefly, if not exclusively, when, as the Scriptures term it,
‘the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon him;’ and when that influence
departed, he became weak as other men. In other words, while his heart
was right with God he prevailed; and when he forsook the Rock of his
salvation, defeat and ruin were nigh. In the height of his glorious
career, he slew a thousand men with the jaw-bone of an ass; and when in
danger of perishing from thirst, a miracle was wrought in his favour.
‘God clave an hollow place that was in the jaw, and there came water
thereout; and when he had drunk, his spirit came again, and he revived:
wherefore he called the name of that place En-hakkore,’ or, the well of
him that cried. It is true he lost his life at last, and, in the
interim, had been sadly abused; but his end was triumphant; and he fell,
buried beneath the bodies of the slain. This remarkable man judged
Israel twenty years; and if we survey the dreadful excesses in which the
people indulged, as recorded in the latter part of the Book of Judges,
the restraints of some such influential ruler as Samson appear to have
been necessary. When there was no king in Israel, every man did that
which was right in his own eyes; and that was, in most instances,
uniformly wrong.
Another of the heroes of antiquity, whose biography illustrates our
meaning, is Saul. The immediate cause of his first achievement arose
from the conduct of Nahash, an Ammonite, who insulted the men of
Jabesh-Gilead by epistolary insolence, and the threat of future outrage.
Unable to defend themselves, they contrived to obtain seven days’
respite for consultation. This they employed in sending messengers to
Gibeah, specially empowered to obtain immediate help. When the tidings
reached the ear of Saul, he was greatly moved: the Spirit of God came
upon him; measures were directly adopted to repress the raging of the
heathen, and the deputation were sent back to assure their friends that,
‘to-morrow, by that time the sun be hot, ye shall have help.’ Faithful
to the promise, Saul and his men were in sight by the morning watch; and
the Ammonites, though three hundred thousand of them shone in arms, were
utterly routed. Saul was a courageous man and an approved soldier.
Though at last slain in battle, and his countrymen were defeated, it
should be remembered that he had offended and forsaken his God by an
improper invasion of the office of the priesthood; had been weak enough
to consult a witch at Endor; and under a malignant influence had several
times attempted the life of his best earthly friend. The varied
vicissitudes of his life, and his untimely end, are therefore to be
viewed as proofs of the position now sought to be maintained. Pious
soldiers fight best. When Saul served God, he beat the Philistines; when
he ceased to serve God, the Philistines slew him. The occasion of his
death was touching, and called forth from a hand of no common skill a
lament not easily surpassed: ‘The beauty of Israel is slain upon the
high places; how are the mighty fallen! Ye mountains of Gilboa, let
there be no dew, neither let there be rain, upon you, nor fields of
offerings: for there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, the
shield of Saul, as though he had not been anointed with oil. How are the
mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished!’ But of all the warriors
whose history is recorded in Scripture, none is to be compared with
David. Almost every step of his eventful life, from the period when he
was taken from the sheep-cote to his complete establishment on the
throne of Israel, was marked by a spirit of singular enterprise and
valour, regulated and impelled by fervent piety. He is described even in
youth as ‘a mighty valiant man, and a man of war, and prudent in
matters, and a comely person, and the Lord was with him.’ His combat
with Goliath exhibits an astonishing instance of cool and determined
resolution, especially when the simplicity of his attire and weapons are
contrasted with the panoply of the tall Philistine. The Israelitish
slingers, it is said, could hurl stones with amazing force, and
precision so wonderful as to strike within an hair’s-breadth of the
intended mark. David was, no doubt, a proficient in this art, of which
the issue of the duel is sufficient proof. The Philistine came on, wrapt
probably in steel, and in formidable array, preceded by his
armourbearer. He then commenced a speech, somewhat Homeric, but replete
with invective, in which, like an overgrown coward, he impudently
invoked the curses of his gods upon his antagonist, and ended by
intimating that his shattered remains should soon be the vultures’ meal.
David’s answer was finely conceived, and as well expressed. Without
further delay, he addressed himself to the fight; ‘he put his hand in
his bag, and took thence a stone, and slang it, and smote the Philistine
in his forehead, that the stone sank into his forehead, and he fell upon
his face to the earth.’ The military prowess and superior talents of
David were afterwards shown, during a lengthened course of brilliant
operations, in which he was generally successful.
As collateral evidence of the possible existence and moral worth of a
pious soldiery, it is worth notice, that in the New Testament, which
divulges the religion of peace and love, the writer of the Epistle to
the Hebrews in exhibiting ‘a great cloud of witnesses,’ whom he sets
forth to defend and exemplify the truth, takes care to include therein,
with special commendation, several of the heroes to whom allusion has
been made. Were it not that the time failed, as we are expressly told,
he had a desire to expatiate largely on their respective merits and
services. He is, therefore, obliged to content himself with an extract,
as it were, from the army-list, adding only a brief summary of a few of
the more splendid excellencies of each. There are delightful notices of
Gideon, and Barak, and Samson, and Jephthah, and David, and Samuel; ‘who
through faith subdued kingdoms, wrought righteousness, obtained
promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the violence of fire,
escaped the edge of the sword, out of weakness were made strong, waxed
valiant in fight, turned to flight the armies of the aliens; and of
whom, waiving all other encomium,’ we are told in one comprehensive
sentence, that ‘the world was not worthy.’
Independently of the instances cited from sacred record, the page of
profane history furnishes numerous instances of sound and practical
piety among the professors in the rough and repulsive art of war; and
had we leisure for copious extract, there would be no difficulty in
arranging a formidable staff, composed of such persons,—of men, too, who
had been eminently successful in the strategy and science of hostility.
One of the earliest and most extraordinary manifestations of Christian
zeal is recorded to have happened to the Theban legion, in the reign of
Diocletian, the Roman Emperor; who, it is said, rather than conform to
the rites of Paganism, suffered martyrdom by the order of Maximian, to
the number of six thousand. Another instance of ancient military piety
is recorded in the case of the Thundering Legion, a name given to those
Christians who served in the Roman army of Marcus Antoninus, in the
second century. It seems that when that emperor was at war with the
Marcomanni, his army was enclosed by the enemy, and reduced to the most
deplorable condition, by the thirst under which they languished, in a
parched desert. Just at this time they were singularly relieved by a
sudden and unexpected rain. This event was attributed to the Christians,
who were supposed to have effected this by their prayers; and the name
of the ‘Thundering Legion’ was given to them on account of the thunder
and lightning that destroyed the enemy, while the shower revived the
fainting Romans.
Our own Alfred the Great combined in his own person that union of piety
and courage which, when associated, are so truly noble. He was born at
Wantage, in Berkshire, in 849. Those were dark ages; and the prince, we
are told, was twelve years of age before a master could be procured in
the western kingdom to teach him the alphabet. He felt the misery of
ignorance; he saw the oppression of his country; and determined, if
possible, to remove both. His improvement in letters was astonishing. He
ultimately acquired great erudition. Had he not been illustrious as a
king, he would have had fame as an author; and an old history of Ely has
asserted that he translated the Old and New Testaments. On ascending the
throne, he found that the Danes had penetrated into the heart of his
kingdom; and before he had reigned a month, he was obliged to take the
field against these formidable enemies. After numerous battles, fought
with varied success, he finally expelled them from the kingdom. Alfred
reigned twenty-eight years; during the last three of which he enjoyed
profound peace. He died A.D. 900, and was buried at Winchester. All
historians agree that he was one of the most valiant, wise, and
excellent kings that ever reigned in England. There is great reason to
believe that we are indebted to this prince for trial by jury; and the
Doomsday-book, which is preserved in the Exchequer, is thought to be no
more than another edition of Alfred’s Book of Winchester, which
contained a survey of the kingdom. In private life Alfred was one of the
most amiable men in his dominions; and of so equal a temper that he
never suffered either sadness or levity to enter his mind. He was a
remarkable economist of his time; and an explanation has been given of
the method he took for dividing and keeping an account of it. He caused
six wax candles to be made; on the candles the inches were regularly
marked; and having found that one of them burned just four hours, he
committed them to the care of the keepers of his chapel, who from time
to time gave him notice how the hours went; but, as in windy weather the
candles were wasted by the impression of the air on the flame, to remedy
this inconvenience he invented lanterns, there being then no glass in
his dominions. Of the piety of this consummate general there can be no
doubt. Just before his death he was visited by his son, to whom he gave
the following admirable advice: ‘My dear son, sit thee down beside me,
and I will deliver thee true instruction. I feel that my hour is coming;
my countenance is wan. My days are almost done. I shall go to another
world, and thou shalt be left alone in all my wealth. I pray thee,
strive to be a father and a lord to thy people. Be thou a father to the
children and a friend to the widow. Comfort thou the poor, shelter the
weak, and with all thy might right that which is wrong. Govern thyself
by law: then shall the Lord love thee, and God above all things shall be
thy reward. Call upon Him to advise thee in all thy need, and He shall
help thee in all thou undertakest.’
Godliness is profitable also for the private soldier, and contributes to
the confirmation of his courage. One of the directions given by Oliver
Cromwell to the soldiers of his army was, that every man should carry a
Bible in his pocket: the edition distributed was that since known by the
name of Field’s. This arrangement, so much in accordance with the spirit
of the times, was carried into effect when the Protector assumed the
command of the Parliamentary army against Charles the First. Among the
rest, there was a wild young fellow, who ran away from his
apprenticeship in London, for the sake of plunder and dissipation. This
fellow was obliged to be in the fashion. Being one day ordered out on a
skirmishing party, or to attack some fortress, he returned back to his
quarters in the evening without hurt. When he was going to bed, pulling
the Bible out of his pocket, he observed a hole in it; his curiosity led
him to trace the depth of this hole into his Bible, when he found that a
bullet had gone as far as Ecclesiastes xi. 9. He read the verse:
‘Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in the
days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thy heart, and in the sight
of thine eyes: but know thou, that for all these things God will bring
thee into judgment.’ The words were set home upon his heart, by the
divine Spirit, so that he became a sound believer in the Lord Jesus
Christ, and lived in London many years after the civil wars were over.
Religion and its saving effects are the same at every period; and,
descending the stream of time, we may strengthen our case by relating an
account of late but genuine piety in the last hours of a brave and
accomplished officer. The following very interesting incident is related
by Dr. Fresenius, Senior of the Clergy at Frankfort:
‘After the battle of Bergen, in Germany, among the many wounded who
were brought in to Frankfort-on-the-Maine, was the Right Honourable
George C. Dykern, Baron, lieutenant-general of the Saxon troops, in
the service of the king of France. He was born of an ancient and
noble family in Silesia, on April 10th, 1710; so that it was on an
anniversary of his birth-day that he received his wound. He was of
equal abilities as a minister and a general. In his younger years he
had gone through a regular course of study in the university, and
had made great proficiency in philosophy, especially in mathematics.
He afterwards studied polemic divinity, till he reasoned himself
into an infidel. During his illness, he showed not the least desire
for pious company or serious discourse, till the surgeon let his
valet-de-chambre know that he could not live long. The man then
asked his master whether he did not choose to be visited by a
clergyman. He answered, with warmth, “I shall not trouble those
gentlemen: I know well myself what to believe and do.” His man, not
discouraged, continued thus: “My lord, have you ever found me
wanting in my duty, all the time I have been in your service?” He
answered, “No.” “Then,” replied he, “I will not be wanting now. The
surgeons count you past hopes of recovery, but every one is afraid
to tell you so. You stand upon the brink of eternity. Pray, sir,
order a clergyman to be called.” He paused a little, but soon gave
his hand to his servant, thanked him for his honesty, and ordered
him to send for me.
‘When I came, the man told me plainly the general was a professed
infidel. I went in, and after a short compliment said, “I am told,
my lord, your life is near an end; therefore I presume, without any
ceremony, to ask you one plain question: Is the state of your soul
such that you can entertain a solid hope of salvation?” He answered,
“Yes.” “On what do you ground this hope?” He replied, “I never
committed any wilful sin. I have been liable to frailties; but I
trust in God’s mercy, and the merits of His Son, that He will have
mercy upon me.” These words he uttered very slowly, especially “the
merits of His Son.” I made the following reply: “I am apt to believe
you are not tainted with the grosser vices, but I fear you a little
too presumptuously boast of never having committed wilful sin. If
you would be saved, you must acknowledge your being utterly
corrupted by sin, and consequently deserving the curse of God, and
eternal damnation. As for your hoping for God’s mercy, through the
merits of His Son, I beg leave to ask, do you believe God has a Son;
that His Son assumed our nature, in order to be our Saviour; that in
the execution of His office He was humbled unto death, even the
death upon the cross; and that hereby He has given an ample
satisfaction for us, and recovered our title to heaven?” He
answered, “I cannot now avoid a more minute description of the state
of my soul. Let me tell you, doctor, I have some knowledge of
philosophy, by which I have chosen for myself a way of salvation. I
have always endeavoured to live a sober life to the uttermost of my
power, not doubting but that the Being of all beings would
graciously accept me. In this way I stood in no need of Christ, and
therefore did not believe on Him. But if I take the Scriptures to be
a divine revelation, this way of mine, I perceive, is not the right
one. I must believe in Christ, and through Him come to God.” I
replied, “You say, if you take the Scriptures to be a Divine
revelation.” He fetched a deep sigh, and said, “O God, thou wilt
make me say, Because I take the Scriptures to be Thy word.” I said,
“There are grounds and reasons enough to demonstrate the Divine
origin of Christianity, as I could show from its most essential
principles, were not the period of your life so short: but we need
not now that diffusive method, faith being the gift of God. A poor
sinner, tottering on the brink of eternity, has not time to inquire
about grounds and reasons: rather betake yourself to earnest prayer
for faith; which if you do, I doubt not but God will give it you.” I
had no sooner spoken these words, than pulling off his cap, and
lifting up his eyes and hands, he cried out, “O Almighty God, I am a
poor cursed sinner, worthy of damnation; but, Lord Jesus, eternal
Son of God, Thou diedst for my sins also! It is through Thee alone I
can be saved! 0 give me faith, and strengthen that faith!” Being
extremely weak, he was obliged to stop here. A little after, he
asked, “Is faith enough for salvation?” “Yes, sir,” said I, “if it
be living faith.” “Methinks,” said he, “it is so already; and it
will be more so by and by: let us pray for it.” Perceiving he was
very weak, to give him some rest, I retired into the next room; but
he soon sent to call me. I found him praying; and Jesus was all he
prayed for. I reminded him of some Scriptures, treating of faith in
Christ; and he was much delighted with them. Indeed he was quite
swallowed up with the grace of Jesus, and would hear of nothing but
“Jesus Christ, and Him crucified.” He cried out, “I do not know how
it is with me: I never in my life felt such, a change. I have power
to love Jesus, and to believe in Him whom I so long rejected. O my
Jesus, how merciful Thou art to me!” About noon I stepped home; but
he sent for me directly, so that I could scarcely eat my dinner. We
were both filled with joy, as partakers of the same grace which is
in Jesus Christ; and that in such a manner as if we had been
acquainted for many years. Many officers of the army came to see him
continually, to all of whom he talked freely of Jesus, of the grace
of the Father in Him, and of the power of the Holy Ghost through
Him; wondering without ceasing at his having found Jesus, and at the
happy change, by which all things on this side eternity were become
indifferent to him.
‘In the afternoon he desired to partake of the Lord’s supper, which
he received with a melting, praising, and rejoicing heart. All the
rest of the day he continued in the same state of soul. Towards
evening he desired, that if his end should approach, I would come to
him, which I promised; but he did not send for me till next morning.
I was told by his valet, that he slept well for some hours, and then
awaking, prayed for a considerable time, continually mentioning the
name of our Lord, and His precious blood; and that he had desired
several of the officers to make known his conversion to his court,
which was that of Poland. After some discourse, I asked, “Has your
view of Christ and His redemption been either altered or obscured
since yesterday?” He answered, “Neither altered nor obscured. I have
no doubt, not even a remote one. It is just the same with me, as if
I had always thus believed and never doubted: so gracious is the
Lord Jesus to me a sinner.” This second day he was unwearied in
exercises of faith and prayer. Towards evening he sent for me in
haste. When I came I found him dying, and in a kind of delirium; so
I could do no more than give him now and then a word of comfort. I
afterwards prayed for him, and those that were present, some of whom
were of high, birth and rank. I then, by imposition of hands, as
usual, gave him a blessing; which being done, he expired
immediately. Prince Xavier, who was there, could not forbear
weeping. The rest of the officers bewailed the loss of their
general; yet praised God for having shown such mercy towards him. I
wrote an account of it without delay to his mother, and had an
immediate answer. She was a lady of seventy-two, of exemplary piety.
She praised God for His mercy, adding, that He had now answered the
prayers which she had never ceased to offer on her son’s behalf for
eleven years.’
And how finely was the Christian character exemplified in the life of
Colonel Gardiner! This gentleman, when a mere youth, was engaged in
active service. He signalized himself by uncommon exertions at the
battle of Blenheim. At that time, destitute of religion, he sought ‘the
bubble reputation, e’en in the cannon’s mouth;’ and while in the act of
leading on his men to a desperate assault upon the enemy’s
intrenchments, swearing most profanely, a musket-shot struck him in the
mouth, and came out at the back of his neck. The infliction of the wound
was so instantaneous, that in the rage of the moment, though conscious
of being struck, he thought he had swallowed the bullet. In almost the
next moment he was undeceived, and fell senseless. There he lay,
weltering in blood, for some time; but being of a hale and vigorous
constitution, he was observed, when the fury of the fight had
diminished, among a heap of the dying and dead, to be yet alive.
Surgical help was directly obtained, and he was mercifully given back
from the very gate of death. It is well known that he afterwards became
an eminent Christian. His conversion to the faith, like that of Paul,
was sudden, decisive, and glorious; and late in life he fell by the blow
of a Lochaber axe, nobly fighting, when nearly all others fled, at the
battle of Prestonfield,—a capital instance of bravery, refined and
exalted by the purity of religious principle.
The goodly fellowship of our devout and enterprising heroes must also
include another associate: this is no less a person than Frederick the
Great of Prussia, a man who, when almost the whole of continental Europe
had combined to dismember his kingdom, arose with gigantic prowess, and
defended himself with such singular ability and courage, that, while his
numerous and powerful enemies were repelled, his influence as a monarch
was firmly established. That the mind of Frederick was deeply imbued
with Scriptural truth, is confirmed by his celebrated confession of
faith; which, for clearness of conception, and the forcibleness of the
terms in which his sentiments are expressed, shows that he knew the
truth. He was unhappily led away in old age by the subtleties of
Voltaire, who had contrived to insinuate himself into the presence of
Prussian royalty; but that apostasy on his majesty’s part may be viewed
as an error of feeble senility, nor does it destroy, or even derogate
from the value of the testimony yielded to religion by the master-mind
of Frederick, when the suffrage of his credence was worth having, in the
prime and vigour of his days and the more leisurely exercise of his
masculine intellect.
Old Colonel Berdeleben belongs undoubtedly to our corps. He was a
favourite of the great Frederick of Prussia, who lavished several
honours upon the worthy veteran. Deeply grateful for the distinction
thus conferred, but more entirely overcome with a sense of Divine
goodness, he observed, ‘Should I die this moment, I die in the favour of
God and my king. I truly rejoice that my sovereign has assured me of his
favour; but of what avail would the king’s favour be towards the
consolation of my conscience, and what would it help me in my present
situation, did I not possess the favour of God?’ Reasonings like this
may be scorned, but they cannot be confuted.