Memorials of Capt. Hedley Vicars, Ninety-seventh Regiment by Marsh, Catherine, 1818-1912/Chapter 9
IX.— WINTER BEFORE SEBASTOPOL.
The daily harass, and the fight delayed.
The long privation of the hoped supply,
The tentless rest beneath the humid sky.
The stubborn wall, that mocks the leaguer's art,
And palls the patience of his baffled heart:
Of these they had not deemed. The battle day,
They could encounter as a veteran may;
But more preferred the fury of the strife
And present death to hourly suffering life."
The miseries of the winter before Sebastopol have passed into history. It is not needful here to describe the suffering of our country in the persons of her bravest sons, or to recall the unforgotten story of her dearly-bought victories. Battles won, against overwhelming numbers, on the cold soil of the Crimea, by weary men, worn down by hunger, bore terrible witness to the quenchless nature of British courage. The men who stormed the heights of Alma — who, in the dreadful fight of Inkermann, conquered again amidst fogs and darkness—who at Balaklava, "charged a whole army, while all the world wondered;"—such men had proved their steel. Yet there is a limit to human endurance; and when men of this mould have been seen to weep[1] as on night after night, succeeding days of starvation and toil, they were ordered to their work in the freezing trenches, who can estimate the exhausting misery they had first endured?
it was amidst scenes like these, and sadder still — on the mud-floor of the hospital-tents, that Hedley Vicars' faith was to have its last trial. Sharing, as he did, in no slight measure, the general toil and privation, with the superadded amount of suffering inseparable from his power of strong sympathy, he was ever fulfilling the apostolic injunction, "Bear ye one another's burdens." His faith was not permitted to waver. Through the long dark night of that winter, its lamp never wanted oil, but burnt with a clear and steady light which cheered, not only those around, but also cast its bright reflection upon praying spirits three thousand miles distant.
From the north of Scotland to the south of England, there were people of God, who gave Him thanks for the cheerful hope, and faith working by love, which breathed through the language of this young soldier's letters.
It has been remarked by a keen observer of human nature, who himself passed through the same ordeal, that in the course of that winter in the Crimea, the individual characteristics of men stood out in more striking colours than could have been seen under other circumstances. The selfish became more tenaciously selfish than before, whilst those who were capable of rising to the heights of self-denial, lived a life of daily heroism.
The reader will be prepared to hear that Hedley Vicars ranked amongst the last. To give only one or two of many instances which have been mentioned by his brother officers, or by the men of his regiment, is all that can be requisite here.
During the severe cold of that winter, the only bed he allowed himself was made of stones and leaves, until a fur rug arrived from England, which he felt was invested with a kind of claim of friendship to be retained for his own use. Everything else which could bear the name of luxury, or even of common comfort, was given to the deeper necessities of the suffering soldiers.
Towards the end of November, he was in command of an outpost, which was not only an important position, open to the attack of the enemy, but was also a Picquet, furnished by the 97th. On either side of it were hills, covered with stunted brushwood: in front was a ravine, leading to Sebastopol. Here, by day, a subaltern was in command of fifty men; by night, the captain on duty with fifty more. The first force was then sent up to a cave on the left of the ravine, where a breastwork had been thrown up. For nearly three weeks, the party defending the outpost had to sleep in the open air, or at best under roofing made of bushes, through which the wind and rain freely penetrated. At length, however, two tents were pitched—one for the company, the other for its officer. Hedley gave up his own tent to his men, and continued to rough it in the open air, considering himself more hardy than many of them.[2]
There is in many of his letters at this time a singular combination of almost apostolic devotedness and love, with the gallant ardour of the soldier—leading to an almost boyish anticipation of a "brush with the Russians."
Perhaps the best illustration of this twofold life, so to speak, is given in the following letter:
TO LADY RAYLEIGH.
"My own Darling Clara—I received your delightful letter yesterday, together with three from Beckenham. I think I never had a richer treat. I was grieved to hear of your severe illness, but thank God you are now recovering. It rejoices my heart to hear that you enjoyed so much of the presence of the Lord Jesus. When sickness is thus blessed, how earnestly can we say with David, 'It is good for me to have been afflicted;' I love the Lord for having brought me closer to Himself. God grant that when you are restored to health you may never forget the love of that blessed Saviour who was with you in the long hours of pain and weariness, when no earthly friend could help you.
"O, beloved Clara, may the merciful pity and love of Jesus constrain each of us to adore Him more, and to give up our whole hearts to Him! Let us earnestly pray for more faith in His atoning sacrifice, 'for the love of Christ' is but an empty sound to us until we have by faith seen Him nailed to the cross for us. Oh, may we ever think of Jesus as our best and dearest Friend and Brother, one whose loving-kindness never changes; and then, in that great day, when the thorny crown shall be replaced by the royal diadem, and Jesus as Lord of all shall ask, 'Lovest thou me?' our hearts may be able to answer with humility, and yet with confidence, 'Lord, thou knowest all things; thou knowest that I love thee.' . . . Thank you for praying for me. I must tell you that I never was in better health than at this time, nor in better spirits, as far as I am myself concerned.
"We had delightful weather while sailing up the Bosphorus; the scenery was charming, but the large white hospital at Scutari gave me rather a sickening feeling at my heart. In the Black Sea we encountered very stormy weather, but came all safe in sight of the Crimea on the afternoon of the 19th, and the same night anchored in a small bay. The sea was covered with floating pieces of wrecked vessels, many ships having been lost off the coast but a few days before; and some of our fellows saw dead bodies floating about. The harbour of Balaklava is very small, and the entrance narrow. Here about a hundred sail were anchored side by side, all of them more or less damaged, some entirely dismasted.
"We did not go on shore till the evening of the 20th. The rain poured in torrents all day. We landed in boats, and were well drenched before we reached the encamping ground, and looked more like drowned rats than live soldiers. It was dark before the tents were pitched. Parties were at once sent out to collect firewood, the wrecked vessels furnishing us with ample materials. Soon, camp-fires were blazing in all directions, and officers and men gathered round them to dry their clothes and warm themselves, for the nights here are bitterly cold. I can assure you I enjoyed some cheese and biscuit not a little. But before I looked after myself, I saw my company as snug and comfortable as 'adverse circumstances would admit of,' and afterwards made them a little speech around the bivouac fire, combining, as well as I could, some religious advice with a few words about our duties as British soldiers, and ended by saying, 'Lads, while I have life I will stick to the colours, and I know you will never desert me.' (My position in line is next to the officer who bears the regimental colours.) The poor fellows cheered me long and loud. I have had very little trouble with them — less so by far than others complain of. Indeed (though I say it, that should not), I know they like me, and would do anything for me; and all officers who treat soldiers like men with the same feelings as their own, and take an interest in their welfare, find they do not see much insubordination nor want many courts-martial. Yet I am very strict with my men, but they soon get accustomed to this. About ten o'clock I read by the light of the first bivouac fire, Psalms xxiii., xc, and xci., with Captain Ingram, and derived great comfort and peace from them. One of my brother officers came up to warm himself while I was reading, and begged me to go on (not that I had any intention of stopping.) God grant that he may soon find "a dwelling in the secret place of the Most High," even in the heart of the Lord Jesus; and be able to say, 'The Lord is my Shepherd, I will not fear what man can do unto me.' Resting on Jesus, my precious Saviour, I went to sleep securely. My bed was made of dry leaves, with a stone for the pillow, and but for the biting cold, I should have slept like a top.
"The regiment fell in at day break. We had a fine view of the surrounding country. Encamped on our right was the brigade of Highlanders, their tents stretching away on the heights above us. Beneath lay the burial-ground, in which the Turkish soldiers were continually burying their dead. Far away in our front was the plain with the battery beyond, in endeavouring to take which the Light Cavalry suffered so fearfully. Through our telescopes we could see the Russians moving about like bees. Our lines are very extensive, and naturally strong, all the country around being hilly. I took a stroll into the country, and enjoyed the First Epistle to the Thessalonians, sitting in the dry bed of a mountain torrent. From the top of a mountain range covered with brushwood, I had a fine view of the cavalry encampment.
"In the afternoon I walked into Balaklava, a miserable place, the streets indescribably dirty. Many British, French, Turkish, and Tartar soldiers were moving about in all directions. I saw several men of the Guards looking very different to the appearance they present in St. James' Square, with unwashed faces, tattered coats, and trousers patched with red and gray. Dead cattle were lying by the wayside, and others were quietly dying. The condition of the once beautiful horses of the Scots Greys was such, that a butcher would have been ashamed to be seen driving one in his cart.
"Our things are still at Balaklava, and so are the stores! But my servant managed to get a piece of bullock for my subaltern and myself, on which we fared sumptuously.
"In the night we heard a sharp firing of musketry; it lasted some time, relieved occasionally by the booming of artillery. Next day we heard that Lieutenant Tryon and fifteen men of the Rifle Brigade had been killed in a brush with the enemy's advanced picquets. However, our fellows completely defeated them and took their position.
"On the morning of the 22d we received the order to march for the lines before Sebastopol, and came in sight of the white tents of the French and English, after a rough march of seven miles. Vestiges of war were to be seen all along the road. Ten dead horses were laid in one place side by side, and the ground was strewn with shell and roundshot. The Zouaves turned out as we passed their camp, and cheered us most vociferously. We returned the cheer with as hearty a goodwill, and soon after reached our ground. The tents were soon pitched, and, although very wet, I never slept more soundly in my life. We were scarcely settled, when the rolling of cannon from Sebastopol and the French and English batteries began, and I may say, that ever since they have been going at it continually.
"On the morning of the 25th I walked up the hill in our front, and had a fine view of the magnificent fortress and harbour of Sebastopol. I could clearly see the masts in the water across the mouth of the harbour, where the Russians have sunk their men-of-war. Whilst admiring the place, a cannon ball from one of their batteries whizzed past my ear. I was afterwards told that the Russians think nothing of firing shell and round-shot when they see even one of our fellows. This seems to me like a sportsman going out to shoot snipe with a rifle. The weather has been very stormy, and our poor men are dying fast from cholera, brought on by exposure and want of warm clothing. We have already buried about twenty-two in four days, and a great number are in hospital.
"The duty has been very severe in the trenches, distant about three miles from our camp. I was in them from five in the afternoon till five next morning, and also on out-lying picquet the whole of the following night, sleeping in the open air, with a few bushes over me. I could hear the tolling of a great bell in Sebastopol, and the voices of the Russians working at their fortifications, as plainly as could be. On the night of the 27th I took a prisoner who was prowling about, fully believing I had hold of a live Russian; but on examining him by daylight he turned out to be only a Turkish soldier! their long light grey coats are so much like the Russians. No hope of 'cataracts' now. Indeed for a day or two I had not water enough to fill a bath for a midge! But yesterday I got a pint to wash my face and hands with, for sorely they needed it. We have nothing to complain of in the way of rations. I get one pound of salt pork and as much biscuit as I can eat every day. The other day my subaltern and a party of men gave chase to a young bullock close to the Russian lines. They caught him, and we made a capital dinner of part of him this afternoon.
"We are all anxiously waiting for Lord Raglan to storm Sebastopol; for, though we must lose many in doing it, yet, anything would be better than seeing our fine soldiers dying as they are daily. What should be done is to go at it at once, without more dilly-dallying!
"I have not seen a clergyman or a missionary yet. How I should enjoy meeting one who would talk to the men simply about the cross of Christ! The Holy Ghost always blesses such preaching. We have meetings in my tent for Scripture-reading as often as we can get together, and delightful seasons they are.
"December 1st.
"I have just returned from another night in the trenches. The rain is descending in torrents. Last night, whilst standing opposite an embrasure, serving out to my men their allowance of grog, a shell whizzed over my head within a foot. The men made a most humble salaam, but I soon got them on their legs again, by threatening to withhold the spirits. The enemy gave us a few more shots, one of which hit the ground so near as to send the gravel into my face.
"The accounts of the Russians killing our wounded officers and men are too true — confirmed by all here. Poor Sir Robert Newman was left wounded on the ground during the temporary retreat of his regiment, the Grenadier Guards; when they returned, he was found stabbed through the head and body in several places.
"I saw the rude tablet erected over his grave at Balaklava. These words are engraved on it — 'And I say unto you, my friends. Be not afraid of them that kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do. But I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear: Fear Him, which after He hath killed, hath power to east into hell; yea, I say unto you, Fear Him.' (Luke xii. 4, 5.)
"We all hope soon to have an opportunity of thrashing these savages, and have not a doubt we shall do so when we come across them.
"I am sorry to hear of the Romish nurses being sent to Scutari to attend promiscuously upon Roman Catholics and Protestants. I know enough of Popery to dread its artifices. I pray God to prevent them from turning away, to other mediators, any dying eyes from a dying Saviour.
"In the trenches, the other day, one of our men amused us much. At the first shell which passed close to him, he dropped down on his back, screaming aloud for a doctor, for he was 'kilt entirely.' The doctor ran up to him, and asked where he had been hit, when he exclaimed, 'Och, och, doctor! clane through the blanket!!'
"I have the tent to myself to-night, Brinkley being on duty in the trenches. It is curious what delightful dreams I have every time I fall asleep: now I am at Terling, surrounded by all your beloved faces; then again at Beckenham, with those I love so dearly; at another time I am going to read to old Sophy; again, sitting by the blazing fire in the drawing-room, telling tales of the war to dear John; and awake to find my teeth chattering in my head, a sharp stone sticking into my side, the wind howling in gusts and squalls, and a concert of cannon and small shot, with variations from English, French, Turkish, and Russian performers, instead of a chant in the hall.
"It is stated that 20,000 French have landed at Eupatoria, and, as a set off to this, that 30,000 more Russians have entered the Crimea; but whatever their numbers may be, with God's help, we are sure to beat them. They surprised us at Inkermann, but yet we repulsed them with great slaughter; the British bayonet settled the business; they fight well though; in that battle it was a regular hand-to-hand encounter. A sergeant of the Scots Fusilier Guards told me that he saw a Guardsman and a Russian both dead, with each other's bayonets transfixed in their bodies. Campbell, a young officer of the 30th, who was in the 97th at Canterbury, had four or five balls in his clothes; one of them took off the tail of his red coat, in which was his purse, containing nine pounds! The night before last, one of my beautiful dreams was dispelled by a shaking of my tent, and in answer to 'Who is there?' I received the reply, 'Please, Sir, a staff-officer has just ridden into the camp to bid us be ready at a moment's notice; the Russians are moving on our right flank.' 'All right,' said I, and commending myself to my Heavenly Father, fell fast asleep again, knowing I was all ready for a moment's notice. However, we heard no more of it. While I write, musketry is hard at work and cannon roaring. Our fellows say the Russian cheer is a pitiful whine, very unlike the British war shout! * * * I am so glad to hear you had such a pleasant visit from —— and ——. They write with so much love and affection of you, dearest sister, that I love them more than ever. I trust we shall yet have many happy meetings of our united families in this world; but if God wills it otherwise, we cannot, after all, be long separated.
"I often feel sad and low when I think of dearest ——, for I fear that he has not yet been reconciled to God, through the blood of the everlasting covenant. If I am to die in this war, it would soothe my last hours were an angel to whisper that he was safe — safe for time and for eternity. If he once tasted how good and gracious the Lord is, and felt in his own soul the safety, confidence, and peace of abiding m Jesus, all worldly pleasures would lose their charm for him. Give my best love to our dearest mother. Oh, how my heart yearns for one more embrace!
"It is with difficulty I manage to scrape together time and materials for writing. My best love to dear Edward, when you see him, and to dear Lord Rayleigh. May God bless him in body and soul. My love also to dear aunt Caroline, my darling godson, and all the children, and don't forget old Sophy, Mrs. Aves, and Mrs. Richardson. Ever, my own darling Clara, your most affectionate and deeply-attached brother.
"Hedley."
All his letters were written in the highest spirits on first landing in the Crimea. The "escape from a winter of being quietly shelved in the Piræus," as he expressed it, to the centre of the scene of action, the necessity for constant activity, and the calling forth to the uttermost of his early love of adventure, "dearer for danger" all combined to increase his buoyant tone. "It is no use doing things by halves," he wrote on the 22d. of December, "we must go at it hammer and tongs! The men are dispirited, naturally enough, by losing so many of their comrades from cholera. I can answer for it they would soon cheer up if they were led against the Russians."
To his second sister he writes by the same mail, "The rain is pouring in torrents, but I have this night been in bed, for a wonder, so I shall have a little time to dry; but I pity the poor fellows in the trenches — 200 men of ours and 700 of other regiments. The men of all the British regiments are dying in numbers every day, and many are buried without any funeral service. We are now, to mend matters, placed on half rations; but I never was much of an epicure, so I am quite contented with what they give me. Indeed, I have no patience with fellows who are always grumbling. Our hardships certainly are very great, but as soldiers we ought to bear them without a murmur. Many officers, I hear, are now resigning their commissions. I can only say, shame on those who desert their country in her time of need. We all made a great mistake in not bringing warm clothing with us here. I did buy a comforter, which is more than most fellows can say. Thank God I am very well, and in high spirits, only hoping that Lord Raglan will soon let us try our hand on the Russians."
But this soldier-like letter does not close without an expression of his deeper feelings; "If, even now," he writes, after alluding to the distractions of the scenes around him, "when sin clings to us hour by hour, and the world with its passing interests so often obscures the pardoning cross from our eyes, we yet love the very name of Jesus, how much more in leaven shall our renewed natures rejoice when we behold the Lord of glory, and sit down in the mansions He has prepared for us! Oh, then, precious sister, from whom I may soon be parted here. Remember Jesus, and never be ashamed to confess Christ crucified! Jesus has bled for us, has redeemed us, has saved us. Oh, let us not cause his once-wounded heart to bleed again for us, but, looking for heavenly aid, let us seek never to grieve Him more."
On landing in the Crimea, his heart was cheered by finding a packet of letters which had been accumulating for three weeks or more. "I had begun to fear before I left the Piræus," he wrote in another letter, "that something was wrong; but you would have felt with me that it was worth while to have had the suspense, if you could have seen me whilst I was reading those precious letters on my arrival here (besides my budget from Terling). My heart and arm are nerved now and I am utterly indifferent to hardships or external trials of any kind.
It is six months since I have been within reach of a house of prayer, or have had the opportunity of receiving the Sacrament; yet never have I enjoyed more frequent or precious communion with my Saviour than I have found in the trenches or in my tent. When, I should like to know, could one find a Saviour more precious than when bullets are falling around like hail?"
Ten days later he gives an account of "such a happy Sabbath," and speaks of his thankfulness in receiving the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper, after having been so long deprived of it; "I am delighted to say we had twenty officers there. I like what I have seen of the chaplain to oar division, Mr. Parker, very much. He has hard work indeed, but seems to love it, because it is the service of Christ Jesus."
In the warmth of new friendships he did not forget old and sacred ties, as the following extract will prove:
"My very Dear Dr. Twining. — I have only time to write you a few lines, as I have but small leisure here, I write for two reasons: first to thank you once again for the great blessing you have been to my soul. Words cannot express how deeply grateful I am. You have been, in the hands of God, the means of bringing me from the hard service of Satan to the delightful service of Jesus; and at this time, when any moment I may be called hence, I wish once more to offer you my heart's most fervent thanks. God bless you, and fill you with peace and joy. May the cross of Christ ever speak comfort to your soul, and may you find in the day of the Lord Jesus, that you have been the blessed means of bringing many to Him." * * *
TO MISS VICARS.
"December 12th.
"I am for the trenches to-morrow morning at three o'clock (I shall be relieved at six o'clock in the evening.) I think more of the pouring rain, and standing in thick mud all the time, than of Russian grape and bullets; but, you see we must be content to have both! You will be sorry to hear that sickness is still prevalent; and I am afraid that this rain, which began again yesterday, after three days of fine weather, will fill the hospitals. Two officers and forty poor fellows were sent down to Balaklava yesterday for the recovery of their health. It was pitiable to see them. Few, if any will ever return. I saw them off yesterday morning; some wept as they wished me good bye. They were so delighted to get the tracts and Testaments I had brought with me, that they began reading them aloud as soon as I put them into their hands.
"We have been living like princes lately. I sent my servant the other day to Balaklava to forage for me, and he returned with onions, potatoes, a ham, bread, and (would you believe it?) a case of salt butter! You may imagine what a dinner we had, and with what excitement we opened the tin of butter; but our faces did not look so jolly when our noses proclaimed that it was rancid! However I managed to eat it, nevertheless. I have been praised by the Colonel more than once for the state my company is in, so I am as happy as possible, except for the daily diminishing ranks of my poor regiment.
Dec. 18th. — I am, thank God, quite well — never better, and what is more, clean! You know my weakness for 'cataracts.' Well, I have contrived to get one every day for nearly three weeks; but then I take more pains to get water for myself than most of the fellows. I dined to-day off soaked biscuit fried with lard — a capital dish; boiled ration pork, very good; potatoes middling; with mustard and salt — my wine being weak rum and water. I am sure drinking spirits is a bad plan, and, besides being injurious, makes a man colder than ever an hour afterwards. Each officer and man is allowed a gill of rum daily, but I never drink even the half of mine, often none at all. I went on picquet this morning at half-past four o'clock with fifty men; it rained hard for about an hour, the remainder of the night being fine. I kept up a jolly fire all through, and endeavoured to write a letter to darling mother, whilst seated opposite its blaze, but I could only get fitful gleams, bright enough to see to write, so I had soon to give up. I read the First Epistle of Peter, and then folding my cloak around me, and stretching myself close to the watchfire, I was sound asleep in ten minutes, notwithstanding the roar of cannon and rattle of musketry which kept up a concert during the night.
"Thank you, my own darling Mary, for your last dear and affectionate letter. It affected me almost to tears, with its deep tone of sisterly love. Strange would it be if I did not love you fondly in return. You say my letters always 'cheer and invigorate you.' Surely I may say the same if not more, of yours.'
All this time the Prayer meetings were continued in his tent at every opportunity, and wearied and worn out as he was after nights on picquet or in the trenches, frequently before he rested he was found in the hospital tent. "In weariness and painfulness, in watchings often," he became "in labours more abundant," and his work of love carried with it its own reward, even at the time, as we learn from his letter of the 15th of December, besides the blessed remembrance of the promise for the future, "Verily I say unto you, a cup of cold water given in my name shall in no wise lose its reward."
"Camp before Sebastopol, Dec. 15th.
"On picquet the other night I was looking up at the bright moon and stars, thinking of the power and love of Him who made them, and of the star in the East which 'came and stood where the young child lay,' and the Saviour's sorrows and sufferings from Bethlehem to Calvary passed in review before my mind. * * * This afternoon, whilst speaking to our poor fellows in the cholera hospital, who were lying cold and comfortless on the bare ground, rays of sunshine seemed to illumine that charnel tent as I brought the crucified Saviour before those men, for tears glistened in many an eye, and the smile of hope and peace was on many a lip. I feel it indeed a pleasure and privilege to talk to my sick comrades and fellow-sinners of Jesus; and I am sure that they who never visit the suffering and dying, deprive themselves of the deepest happiness this life affords. It is painful, often heartrending, to witness agony we cannot alleviate; to see the distorted face and hear the cry of anguish of friends and comrades. But it is sweet to be the bearer to them of glad tidings of joy and peace through the great Redeemer's atonement and love; and to see some of them gently falling asleep murmuring the life-restoring name of Jesus. I have seen these, and I cannot find words to tell the delight of hope which has then filled my breast. * * * The weather, which has been for three or four days fine and frosty, is now again damp and rainy; but I have got a pretty good tent, and the rain that does find its way through the roof, is capital for drinking!
"You will be glad to hear that precious little book of hymns was a great comfort to one of my sick brother officers, Major Colville. I went to see him the night before last, and read him two or three. He seemed much delighted with them. Poor fellow! he was sent down yesterday to Balaklava. I do not expect to see him again in this world.[3]
"We are expecting every day to meet the enemy in open field or to storm the fortress. I wish they could go at it, at once. Be not anxious about me. I am safe in the arms of my Saviour—I feel it, I know it—in life or death.
"Dec. 16th, 17th.—I have only returned about half an hour from the trenches of the advanced work, where we have been since half-past four o'clock this morning. The rain poured in torrents all night. We turned out in the midst of it (three officers and 200 men), and started for the rendezvous, where detachments from several regiments assemble, previous to marching off together for the trenches. We had to ford two mountain torrents, which considerably damped our feet and legs, if not our ardour! When we reached the ground, the rest had gone on; so we followed as well as we could, tumbling in the mud at every step. We arrived at last opposite the 21-gun battery (Gordon's), and the rain having suddenly changed to snow, we presented rather a wintry appearance, as we entered the covered way. This was, in parts, knee-deep in mud, through which we plodded, not without great exertion. As we cleared the way, we passed a poor fellow of the 77th Regiment, lying on the bank, wounded in the shoulder, and soon after we encountered a sharp fire of musketry, and a spent bullet struck me in the left side, but without doing me the slightest harm, thank God. I offered up a short prayer of gratitude and praise to my Heavenly Father who had thus preserved me. We lined the trench without any casualty, but the weather was so bleak and cold that we were obliged to walk about to keep ourselves warm, regardless of the bullets which kept flying about our ears like bees. A marine was mortally hit in the breast soon after, and I saw the poor fellow carried past on a stretcher. He died in less than half an hour. As one of my men was walking up and down close to the rampart, a Minié ball hit him behind the ear. He fell on his side, and died without a groan. I buried him at dusk outside the trench. Poor Robert Turton! sudden and awful was thy death. What and where were thy last thoughts as death met thee in that short walk? The Russian sentries did not molest us whilst we were digging the grave, although they must have heard us quite distinctly. We can hear them talking and coughing at their works.
"Dec. 17th. — Another of my company died this afternoon. The regiment has now lost about sixty since we came here, and other regiments are losing in like porportion. There is great talk now about our soon going ahead to storm. I trust they will not delay much longer. I do not care in the least for fatigue and hardship myself, but it is sad and painful to lose one's comrades every day. Owing to the weather, we were unable to have Divine service to-day with the division, but several of us met together in the tent, and we shall again this evening, please God.
"On my return from the trenches last night, I found great comfort in reading the first chapter of the first Epistle of Peter, although as soon as I had finished it, I went off to sleep like a top! The other night the Russians made a sortie on the French advanced batteries; we were turned out, but our gallant allies drove them back without our assistance. We had, however, a good view of the firing, which was kept up with a thundering roar, the glare making the sky look like a scroll of fire; it was kept up steadily for about two hours.
"I have great hopes for some amongst our poor sick fellows just sent to Balaklava, that they have cast themselves on the mercy of God in Christ. They were so earnest to be read and talked to about Jesus Christ, and delighted in hearing of free pardon and salvation through the blood of His cross.
"Forty have just been sent to Balaklava Hospital, out of our tents; but we shall soon have their places filled, it this weather continues. I never saw the men of my regiment so eager for religious instruction as they are now. God grant them to be numbered among His saints in glory everlasting.
"How glad shall I be to see the Soldiers' Missionary, Duncan Matheson! It will refresh and cheer my soul. Oh, that there were many more labourers in this harvest! Why are there not more Scripture readers sent out? They are grievously wanted here. I am so longing that every soldier, before he dies, should be told of Jesus, made acquainted with all He has done for him; for many, I fear, are grossly ignorant of the way of salvation. There are very few chaplains left in the Crimea now; even if they all returned in health, it would be impossible for them to reach half the spiritual wants of the army. A staff of Scripture readers would be invaluable to them — men who would devote themselves to their work night and day."
TO HIS YOUNGEST SISTER.
Dec. 21st, 1854.
" * * * How strange it seems to me now, the years when I lived without a 'Saviour near,' — a dark hideous blank! Thank God, darling Georgie, to your dying day, that you have been early brought to the 'feet of Jesus.' I am fully convinced that none have ever sinned more than I have against the God and Saviour who died to redeem me; but with my sins in clear remembrance, I am yet washed in 'the fountain opened for sin and uncleanness,' and 'looking unto Jesus,' I come 'boldly unto the throne of grace, that I may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in every time of need.'
"'Come boldly to the throne of grace,
With all your wants and fears ;
The Saviour's hand shall kindly chase
Away the bitterest tears.'
"And, trusting in the same kind and loving Saviour, 'mighty to save,' you too, dearest Georgie, can draw near with confidence, for 'the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin,' and an answer of peace you must and shall receive, for 'The Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon Him.' Your prayers may appear at times to be no prayer at all, and at other seasons you may be tormented with vain and wandering thoughts; your faith weak and wavering; but, dearest sister, what then? Every Christian has to endure trials of this kind; the promise is sure, 'He giveth power to the faint.' 'They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.' In times of trouble, when everything seemed to be going against me, I have yet found the cross of Jesus a sure refuge. What think you is it that sustains and supports me now, in the midst of all I have to endure, and with the knowledge that at any moment I may be summoned into the presence of God? Surely nothing but faith in a living Saviour. 'I know that Jesus died and rose again,' and that He has made, what I never could have done myself, full atonement and satisfaction for sins. What then have I to fear?
"When I take mine eyes from the crucified Saviour, I tremble, and am without hope. Any other stay will prove but a bruised reed. I have had to endure something of the reproach of the cross, as in short, all must and will, who follow the Lord Jesus Christ. But I feel sure this moment, whilst I write, if I had not been given a firm persuasion in my heart and mind of the sufferings once endured by Jesus on Calvary, and by Divine grace been led to behold Him as the Lamb of God, the Saviour of sinners, and therefore of myself, I should long ere this have been the same, if not worse than in former years.
"Your outward forms of religion, whether in the shape of Popery or Tractarianism, may change the visible conduct of a man, but only a dying Saviour received into the heart can ever change the soul, and make it pure and fit, through the power of the Holy Ghost, to dwell hereafter with Christ, and to enjoy the holy pleasures of heaven. Let us not hesitate to bear the cross daily. Think of Him who bore the cross for you. 'He was tempted in all points like as we are, although without sin.' . . . The glory of our religion is, Salvation through the blood of Jesus.
"Ever, my own beloved and much prayed-for sister,
"Your most attached and loving brother,
"Thank you, dearest friend, for your affecting letter from Mrs. Halkett's house.
"I grieve much to say that there is no hope left now that dear Halkett[4] might be a prisoner in Sebastopol; but I believe he is in the presence of his God, clothed in the spotless robe of his Redeemer's righteousness. The man who so loved the the fourteenth of St. John, has found it all true for him, I shall make the motto he chose for himself my own; and if I am to fall too, I hope I may die with it on my lips—'In God is my Salvation and my glory; the Rock of My strength and my Refuge is in God.'
"Give my love to his dear young wife; and tell her I pray God to comfort her. Her message went to my heart, with its confidence in my regard for her beloved husband. I know not whether I could have 'saved him' but I would have carried him to the rear, or died in the attempt. I have prayed that Jesus himself would comfort her; I know He will.
"Yesterday I read with great comfort the third of Colossians, in the advanced work. I find Jesus more and more precious to my soul.
"The nights are very cold now, and that dear fur rug, when it arrives, will be most acceptable indeed. I will not disguise from you the truth, that we have to endure days and nights of hardships; but what are soldiers meant for? I willingly submit to them, and would to greater. Yet I cannot but feel, and deeply too, for the death of so many of my comrades; but I keep hope alive in my heart that many amongst them died in Jesus at the last. He is so tender and loving a Saviour, and so willing to hear poor sinners when they cry unto Him, that I believe He will not turn a deaf ear to the faintest sigh of a broken and contrite heart that may mount upwards to the mercy-seat, even from the soldier who has the longest trampled on His love and forbearance. I cherish this hope, and will, as long as I live.
"Whenever I am off duty I visit the tents of the sick. They are full again, although forty were sent to Balaklava a few days ago. The weather is very wet and damp, with snow every now and then; but I am, thank God, as safe and sound as ever I was in my life. I feel persuaded that the Lord is keeping me for my L—— 's sake and yours, in answer to your prayers.
"Bless you, my own mother, sister, friend, and counsellor,ever cheering and comforting my heart and soul. Give my warmest love to all around you, especially to your dearest revered father. God bless him; and God bless also the beloved father of her I love best on earth, for his tender solicitude for his darling child, and at the same time for his kindess to me.
"Remember me most kindly to Mr. B. Is he yet able to look to Jesus as his Saviour and Redeemer? Where would be my happiness now if I could not do so, through the grace of God?"
"Christmas Day, 1854.
"I am for out-lying picquet in ten minutes, so I have just time to wish you a happy Christmas; it is so bitterly cold I can scarcely hold my pen.
"I have enjoyed the day as much as could be expected, and partook of the Sacrament this morning, with (thank God!) thirty others.
"I received your precious letter of the 3d only a few minutes ago; thank you much for it.
"I trust the Protestant Members will speak out their minds or rather those of their constituents, about the Nuns, &c., when Parliament assembles. I feel very anxious about it.
"I hope you have received the letters which I write by every mail, such as they are.
"May our Father, the 'Father of all mercies,' keep us ever 'looking unto Jesus' our Saviour."
- ↑ Crimean Correspondence.
- ↑ This circumstance was also mentioned to the writer, with grateful appreciation, by a private of the 4th Light Dragoons, when in hospital in England, many months afterwards. He said, "It had been much thought of amongst soldiers in the Crimea."
- ↑ This amiable and excellent officer died at Scutari shortly afterwards, regretted by the whole regiment.
- ↑ Major Douglas Halkett, 4th Light Dragoons, who fell in the flower of his age, in the charge at Balaklava. His thoughtful and benevolent character had won for him the name of "father of his regiment." Brave as he was gentle, his gallant bearing was noticed, even amidst the fury of that death charge. The last time he was seen, was on the field, fearfully wounded, holding out some bank-notes to his men, with the characteristic words, "Take them for the wives and widows at home."