II.
(Continued from p. 205.)
We wish we had space to transfer to our columns some of the diary which he kept with great regularity, and which breathes throughout the most ardent love to his Redeemer and devotion to His service; but we must content ourselves with giving the reader some rules which he drew up for his guidance while at Halifax:— “Rise every morning at seven o’clock. Meditate on a text while dressing. From eight to nine read a chapter in the Old Testament and prayer. From nine to ten, breakfast, and read newspaper, or any light book, carefully avoiding novels. From ten to one, orderly-room work. From one to half-past two, a chapter in the Gospels, and prayer. From half-past two to four, orderly-room work. From four to six, visiting sick people, etc. Offer up a short prayer before going to mess, that God would keep me from temptation. After dinner, offer up a prayer to God first, then read books of general interest, and give an hour to my Bible and prayer before going to bed. And oh, I beseech thee, my heavenly Father, to enable me thus to devote the remainder of my days to thee! May my motto be, ‘Not slothful in business, but fervent in spirit, serving the Lord!’”
We must also pass over the year which he spent with his beloved family in England, a year which the companionship of kindred spirits, and the delight of home, made probably the happiest in his life. Here, too, we find him constantly employed; now in the country, visiting and praying in the cottages of the poor; and again in London, “teaching in ragged schools, visiting repentant thieves, and, with city missionaries, diving into the depths of metropolitan wretchedness.” Very soon after the breaking out of war in the East, the 97th received orders to repair to the scene of conflict. The pang which this announcement occasioned to his family and friends can be well conceived. Some extracts from his biography will show how the few weeks before his departure were spent:—”On the 29th of March he came from Windsor to meet us in London, and return with us to Beckenham. On the evening of his arrival he addressed upwards of a hundred navvies, beside several of the young men of the village, at the reading-rooms. They were crowded to excess, and many more surrounded the doors. He chose for his subject, ‘Prepare to meet thy God;’ and no man on a dying bed could have spoken with greater solemnity and earnestness. Yet there he stood, a strong young man, amidst strong young men, ‘putting himself alongside of us as a fellow-sinner,’ as one of them remarked, ‘and yet so good now, and such a man withal.’ One after another they crowded around him for a shake of his hand, and to wish him safety and success. We heard them saying among themselves, ‘It’s a pity that such a fine fellow as that should go to be shot;’ and several of them met at the farther end of the village to pray for him regularly.” And again:—”One day when we were in London, I happened to meet him when on my way to a hospital to see a sick navvy . . . He requested permission to go also . . . From that time he regularly visited that poor man twice a week, although the hospital was six miles distant from Kensington Barracks; and, even in the hurry of his last day in England, found time to bid him farewell.”
There are many proofs in his life of the deep affection felt for him by those in whose spiritual concerns he was so much interested. He was prayed for by name at nine prayer-meetings for the army, in England and Scotland, from the day of their commencement until his death. We cannot omit to record a conversation held by the biographer with some of the light company of the 97th, a few days before they left England:—”One named Reynolds, said, ‘Since Mr. Vicars became so good, he has steadied about four hundred men in the regiment.’ ‘Four hundred!’ was repeated with surprise. ‘I don’t mean that he has made all the four hundred as good as himself; that he couldn’t. I know enough of religion to know that God alone could do that. But while he was adjutant, and since, too, he has steadied and sobered nigh four hundred of the most drunken and wildest men in the regiment. There isn’t a better officer nor a better man in the Queen’s service.”
We give from the biography the account of his leaving England:—”It was a lovely morning that 19th May. The sunshine glittering on the bayonets of the men, as they marched up the steps to the station, seemed to mock the tears of wives, sisters, and friends who accompanied them. I saw a young wife quit her hold of her husband’s hand, and approach Hedley Vicars, with a manner of respectful confidence, as she said to him, ‘Oh, Mr. Vicars, you will see that Cotterell writes to me regular? won’t you? It is my only comfort to know that you will.’ The kindness and sympathy of his tone, as he answered her, told that her confidence was not misplaced. Just then his brother arrived; and, during the delay which followed before the train started, we read Psalm cxxi., in the waiting-room. I remember the deep well of quiet confidence in his eye, as the words were repeated to him: ‘The Lord is thy keeper.’ There was something in the tone of his voice that day which struck like a distant knell upon our hearts. It was a foreboding tone. However strongly hope may have sprung up afterwards, we felt at that moment that it was our last parting.”
The first destination of the 97th was Greece. And here a malignant form of the cholera broke out, which, in thirty-four days, deprived the regiment of 120 men. Captain Vicars here took on himself the arduous duties of chaplain, visiting the sick, and attending the burial services, and seizing each opportunity for exhortation and warning. He writes:—”Morning and evening the dead cart leaves the hospital for the graveyard. It is all very sad and solemn, but there is a silver lining to every cloud! I believe that to many this dread visitation of the Almighty has taught a lesson which, I trust and hope, never will be forgotten. Alas! that so few have the comfort of religion; the knowledge of Jesus Christ! With some of my brother officers I have lately had most earnest conversations; and they have promised to come to my room, that we may read the Bible together. Oh, that I may be enabled to speak a word in season to their souls; and, by my poor, feeble testimony to His tenderness and love, lead them to that precious Saviour who died for sinners! We meet for prayer every evening, with peculiar reference to the removal of this grievous sickness, if it please God; and for the gift of the Holy Spirit to sanctify this visitation.” And, again: —“My Scripture reading and prayer-meeting at the hospital is better attended than ever. Last ‘Sunday’ I read Hebrews xii. in one of the wards; and after talking to the men about it, felt my heart drawn out earnestly in prayer for their souls. My chief, my only subject with them, is Jesus; and it is a theme of which I hope never to grow tired. May God the Holy Ghost bless my feeble words to their immortal souls, for Jesus Christ’s sake.”
We now come to the winter before Sebastopol—that winter whose privations and miseries so many pens have described, and in which Captain Vicars’ character developed itself day by day. Every article of luxury and even of comfort sent him from England, was devoted to the suffering soldiers. In his letters at this time there is 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. Notwithstanding the fatigues attending the duty in the trenches, and other constant military duty, he found time for nightly meetings for prayer, and habitual visiting of the sick and wounded. Several boxes from England arrived, containing clothing, etc., for the suffering soldiers, together with Testaments, tracts, and other religious books; and the distributing of these formed some of the bright spots of that desolate winter.
Spring came, in name at least; and with it Hedley Vicars’ last Sabbath on earth. The devotional exercises, and the conversation with brother officers on that day, seemed indeed a foretaste of heaven. The day appointed for the national humiliation and prayer followed; and well did he keep it. The last words he wrote were in reference to this fact:—“I look for great results from the prayers which have ascended to heaven this day, and have been presented by our great Intercessor before the throne of God . . . . I read Isaiah xii., and he prayed. We walked together during the day, and exchanged our thoughts about Jesus.”
One other fragment was found in his desk, addressed to one to whom his heart’s affections were engaged, and to whom he was to be united on his return to England, had his life been spared :— “The greater part of another month is past, and here I am, still kept by the protecting arm of the Almighty from all harm. I have been in many a danger, by night and by day, since I last wrote to you, my own beloved; but the Lord has delivered me from them all; and not only so, but He has likewise kept me in perfect peace, and made me glad with the light of His countenance. In Jesus I find all I want of happiness or enjoyment; and as week after week, and month after month roll by, I believe He is becoming more and more lovely in my eyes and precious to my soul.”
Twenty-four hours more, and his eyes had seen the King in His beauty. On the night of the 22nd of March, a Russian force of 15,000 men, taking advantage of a stormy darkness, issued from Sebastopol. A detachment of the 97th was on the advanced post of the British forces. When the Russians first approached, they were supposed to be allies. Hedley Vicars was the first to discover them to be the enemy. Leading on his band of barely 200 men, to charge a force of 2000, with the long remembered cry of “This way, 97th,” he met his death on the field of his first action. A victory was won, but his men bore from the field the dying body of their devoted leader.
From many letters sent after his death to his family in England, from Sebastopol—letters coming from the highest in command to the private soldier—we take a few extracts from a young Scotch officer, Lieut. Douglas Maegregor, who was destined to follow his beloved friend. With this we now close:— “Dearest Mother,—This is a dark and sorrowful day with me; my heart is wrung, my eyes red and hot with crying . . . . My very dear friend Vicars was killed last night. The Russians made a sortie; and while gallantly leading on a handful of our men, to charge them outside our works, he was mortally wounded, by a ball striking his right breast. He was fully prepared for the most sudden death, and he died bravely fighting and doing his duty. . . . Such a death became such a life and such a soldier. The most gallant, the most cheerful, the happiest, the most universally respected officer, and the most consistent Christian soldier, has been taken from us by that bullet, and I know not how to live without him. . . . Every one liked and respected Vicars, even those who did not agree with his strict religion; and those who had known him so long as the leader of every mad riot, when, after closely watching him for years, and finding that once enlisted in Christ’s army he never flinched, at last gave in, and acknowledged that Vicars at any rate was a true Christian. Farewell, Vicars! . . . I knew that when he went into action he would show that a Christian soldier is a brave as well as a happy man. God bless you, mother; and may He sanctify this severe trial to my soul. Your own, D. M.“