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THE LIFE

OP

EDWAED IRVING.

VOL. I.

PBIHTED BX 8P0TTISW00DE AND CO. ITEW-SIBEET SQUA.BE

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fc- THE LIFE

OF

EDWARD IRVING

MINISTEE OF,

THE NATIONAL SCOTCH CHUECH, LONDON.

jllttstrat^lj bl \h |ournals mli €mt^mkm.

BY

MES. OLIPHANT.

" Whether I live, I live unto the Lord ; and whether I die, I die unto the Lord : living or dying, I am the Lord's." Amen.

IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. L

LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,

SUCCESSOES TO HENRY COLBURN, 13, GEEAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.

1862.

Tke rigtd of Tiaitdution u reserved

6X

v./

I

TO ALL WHO LOVE THE MEMORY OF

EDWAED mVING:

WHICH THE WRITER HAS FOUND BY MUCH EXPERIMENT

TO MEAN ALL WHO EVER KNEW HIM :

THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED.

PREFACE.

It seems necessary to say something, by way of excusing myself for wliat I feel must appear to many tlie presumption of undertaking so serious a work as this biography. I need not relate the various un- thought-of ways by which I have been led to under- take it, which are my apology to myself rather than to the pubhc ; but I may say that, in a matter so comphcated and delicate, it appeared to me a kind of safeguard that the writer of Edward Irving's life should be a person ^vithout authority to pronounce judgment on one side or the other, and interested chiefly with the man himself, and his noble courageous warfare through a career encompassed with all human agonies. I hoped to get personal consolation amid heavy troubles out of a life so full of great love, faith, and sorrow ; and I have found this life so much more lofty, pure, and true than my imagination, that the pic- ture, unfolding under my hands, has often made me pause to think how such a painter as the Blessed Angehco took the attitude of devotion at his labour, and painted such saints on his knees. The large ex- tracts which, by the kindness of his surviving children, I have been permitted to make from Irving's letters,

VIU rUKFACE.

will show tlio ivadors <»!' this book, botlcr than any description, what uiMiiiu'i- of man lir was; and I feci assured tliat to be able tlius to illustratt' llir facts of his liistory by liis own exposition of ils hrart and ])ur- pose, i.s to do liim izreater justier than conld Ije liuped fur from any other means uf iiiLciprelaLion.

My tlianks are due, first and above all, to Professor Martin Irving, of Melbounu', and to his sister, Mrs. Gardiner, London, wlio have kindly permitted me the use of tlieh' father's letters ; to the Iiev, James Brodie and Mrs. Brodie, of Monimail, and Miss Martin, l']din- bm-gh ; to J. Fergusson, Esq., and W. Dickson, Esq., Glasgow, nephews of Irvnng ; the llev. Dr. Grierson, of EiTol ; Patrick Sheriff, Esq., of Tladdington ; !Mrs. Carlyle, Chelsea; the Eev. Dr. Hanna; M. N. Mac- donald Hume, Esq. ; James Bridges, Esq. ; Eev. D. Ker, Edinburgh ; Eev. J. M. Campbell, late of Eow ; J. Hatley Frere, Esq., London ; Eev. A. J. Scott, of Man- chester ; Dr. G. M. Scott, Hampstead ; Eev. E. IL Stoiy , of Eosneath ; and other friends of Irving, some of them now beyond the reach of earthly thanks — among whom I may mention the late Henry Drummond, Esq., of Albuiy, and Mrs. Wm. Hamilton — who have kindly placed letters and other memoranda at my disposal, or triven me the benefit of their personal recollections.

M. 0. W. OLIVKANT. Eallsg : April 1802.

CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

CHAPTER I.

HIS PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD.

The Irvings and Lowtliers — Peciiliarities of the Eace — His im- mediate Family — Life in Annan — Universal Friendliness — Traditions of the District — The Covenanters — Birth of Edward — His Parents — Peggy Paine's School — Hannah Douglas — Annan Academy — Out-door Education — Solway Sands — Es- caping from the Tide — Early Characteristics — Sunday Pil- grimages— The "Whigs" — Ecclefechan — His youthful Com- panions — Strange Dispersion — Home Influences — Leaving Annan Page 1

CHAPTER H.

HIS COLLEGE LIFE.

Prolonged Probation of Scotch Ministers — Boy-Students — Inde- pendence— Hard Training — Journeys on Foot — Early Reading — Distinctions in Society — Patrons and Associates — Carlyle's Description of Ii'ving — Early Laboiu's 25

CHAPTER in.

HADDINGTON.

The Doctor's Httle Daughter — The first Declension — Conflict between Pity and Truth — New Friends — Sport and Study — Holiday Science — Incident in St. George's Church — Society in Haddington — Bolton Manse — Young Companions — Extent of his Work — Courage and Cheerfulness — Leaves Had- dington 36

X CONTEXTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

CUAPTER rV.

KinKCALDY.

Kirkcaldy Acadouiy — Personal Appearance — Severe Discipline

— Doing all Things heartily — Kirkcaldy Sands — Milton Class

— Schoolboy Chivalry — " Much respected Pui)ils" — Love- making — Confidential Disclosures — Engagoment — The Minister of Kirkcaldy — The Manse Household — Sister Elizabeth — llcr Uusband — Irving's First Sermon — Superiority to "The Paper" — " Ower mucklo Gran'ner " — Other people's Sermons — His Thoughts about Preaching — In a Highland Inn — Warlike Aspiration — General Assembly — Debate on Pluralities — Into- lerance of Circumstances — Abbotshall School-house . Page 50

CHAPTER V.

AKLOAT ON THE WOULD.

Bristo Street — Renewed Studies — Advice, — Literary Societies

— Begins anew — Was his own Hearer — Undisturbed Belief — His Haddington Pupil — Candour and Pugnacity — Clouded Prospects — The Aiwstolic Missionary — Domestic Letters — Carlylc — Hopes and Fears — Preaches in St. George's, Edinbvu-gh

— Suspense — Goes to Ireland — Wanderings — Invitation to Glasgow — Interest in Church Affairs — Doubtful of his ovra Success 77

CILVPTER VL

GLASGOW.

Dr. Chalmers's Helper — Condition of Glasgow — Irving's political Sentiments — State of the Country in general — Irving's Confidence in the Radicals — The Calton Weavers — Chalmers and Irving — Incessant Labours — The Parish of St. John — Its Autocrat — The Shoemaker — "He kens about Leather" — Apostolic Benediction — Intercourse with the Poor — A Legacy — The Help of a Brother — " It's no himsel " — Two Presbyters — The Pedlar — "A man on Horse " — The Howies — Holiday Adventures — Simplicity of Heart — Solemnity of Deportment — Convicts in Glasgow Jail — Irving patronised by the Office-bearers — In the Shade — His Loyalty and Admiration — The bright Side — The dark Side — Missionary Projects renewed — The Caledonian Chapel, Hatton Garden — Letter of Recommendation — Favouiable Prognostica- tions — Irving desires to go to London — His Pleasure in his Ee-

CONTENTS OF THE FIKST VOLUME. XI

ception there — Obstacles — The Caledonian Asylum — Pledges himself to learn Gaelic — Bond required by the Presbytery — Visits to Paisley — Removal of Obstacles — Eosneath — Happy Anticipations — Farewell Sermon — Offers his Services in London to all — Eeceives a farewell Present — The Annandale Watch- maker — A " singular Honour " — Goes to London . Page 99

CHAPTER VII.

LONDON, 1822.

First Appearance — Satisfaction with his new Sphere — His Thoughts and Hopes — Outset in Life — Chalmers in London — Appeals to Irving's Sympathy — Progress in Popularity — " Our Scottish Youth" — Canning and Mackintosh — Happy Obscurity — The " Happy Warrior " — The Desire of his Heart — His first House- hold 150

CHAPTER VHL

1823.

The Orations — Irving's much Experience in Preaching — Addresses himself to educated Men — Ai-gument for Judgment to come — Assailed by Critics — Mock Trial — Indictment before the Court of Common Sense — Acquittal — Description of the Church and Preacher — Influence of his personal Appearance — Inconveniences of Poptdarity — Success of the Book — A riiral Sunday — His Marriage — His Wife — The bridal Holiday — Reappearance in St. John's — Return to London — Preface to the Third Edition of the Orations — His Dedications and Prefaces generally — Mr. Basil Montagu — Irving's grateflil Acknowledgments — His early Dangers in Society — Bedford Square — Coleridge — His Influence on the Views of Irving — Social Charities — A simple Pres- byter . . . _ 164

CHAPTER IX.

1824.

Failure of Health — Determination to do his Work thoroughly — Proposes to write a Missionary Sermon — For Missionaries after the Apostolical School — The wandering Apostle — Con- sternation of the Audience — Wrath of the rehgious World — A Martyr-Missionary — Publication of the Oration — An Exeter Hall Meeting — Protest against the Machinery of Evan- gelism— Dedication to Coleridge — Lavish Acknowledgments —

Xll CONTEXTS OF TITR riPvST VOLUME.

Coldnoss and Kstranpcmcnt — Tin; I'lvabytcrian Eldership — Its Duties and Privilrpos — IrvinLr r«'rinshis Kirk-session — Birth of little Edward — Personal Charilivs — A lost Life — llospilality — Commencement of the new Church — Evanpclicid .Journey — Birmingham — Home Society — " In Gml he lived and moved " I'agc 193

CHAPTER X.

1825.

Irving's Introduction to the Study of Prophecy — The Fascination of that Study — Ilis Conscientiousness in treating his Subjects — Habits of Thought — Sermon to the Continental Society — Baljy- lon and Infidelity Foredoomed — Sermons on public Occasions — Hibernian Bible Society — An Afternoon among the Poor — Irving's "Way" — Invitation to remove to Edinburgh — His Answer — Ilis Manner of Life — The Paddington Coach — His Letter of "Welcome to his Wife — His Feelings in respect to his Call to Edinburgh — Peasons for remaining in London — Ser- mons on the Trinity — Opinions in respect to Miracles — Sacra- ment of Baptism — Original Standards — Baptismal Pegenera- tion — Little Edward's Illness and Death — Sorrow and Consola- tion — In-ing's Announcement of his Child's Death — Little Edward's Memory — " A glorious Bud of Being" — Irving visits the sorrowful in Kirkcaldy 220

CHAPTER XI.

JOURNAL.

Wanderings among the Hills — An Apostolical Jounioy — Annan — Incidents of a Stage-coach Journey — Arrival at 1 lome — Com- mencement of Journal-letters — Morning Worship — Historical Reading — Bishop Overall's Convocation Book — "Idolatry of the Memory '' — Devotion and Study — Visions of the Night — Breakfast Party — A Day in the City — Book-stalls — Christian Counsel — In Eaintness and Fervour — " For the Consolation of Edward's Mother " — The Secret of Fellowship — Influence of the Landscape — Wisdom and Power — Prayers for the Absent — Interceding for the people — A Sunday's Services — Exposition

— Sermon — Evening Service — His Responsibility as Head of the Household — At Home — Scottish Adventurers — The Priest and his Catechumens — Two Sisters — A Companion for his Isabella

— A Son from the Lord — Weariness — A Spirit full of In- spirations — Retvims to the Convocation Book — Study — A Re-

CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. XIU

Tinion of Young Christians — Self-denial in Religions Conver- sation— "A very ricli Harvest" — Temptations of Satan — Pastoral Visits — A Sick-Bed — Correggio's " St. John " — Prayers — Ecclesiasticns — Deteriorating Effect of a Great City

— Two London Boys — A logical Companion — Sunday Ser- vices— "Want of Faith — Little Edward's Ministry — An Litel- lectuaUst — Influence of Custom — Eemoustrance about Length of Services — The Peace-Offering — Philanthropy — The Mys- tery of the Trinity — Missionaries — Readings in Hebrew — Letters of Introduction — The Church as a House — Simple and improvided Faith — Funeral Services — The Twelfth Day of the Month — Sunday Morning — Presentiments — True Brother- hood — The prodigal Widow — Undirected Letters — A London Sponging-house — Joseph in Prison — From House to House — Christian Intercourse — Domestic "Worship — A Death-bed — A Good Voyage — The Theology of Medicine — The Glory of God

— Huskiness about the Heart — The Spirit of a Man — Different Forms of the worldly Spirit — Try the Spirits — A Benediction to the Absent — Visions of the Night — Sunday — The Ministry of "Women — Morning Visitors — A Dream — Sceptics — The Four Spirits — Religious Belles — Best Manner of contending with Infidelity — A subtle Cantab — A Circle of Kinsfolk — Pleasures of the Table : Pea-soup and Potatoes — The Spirit of a former Age — The lost Sheep — The Influence of the Holy Spirit — New Testament History of the Church — The Sons of God and the Daughters of Men — "Wisdom — Farewell Counsels — A Fimeral — The Joy of Grief — Management — Deterioration — The New Church — Ministerial Liberty — Dreams of Edward — The Spirit of Prayer — " My Dumfriesshire " — Paralytic in Soul — Under-current of Thought during Prayer — Money, the universal Falsehood — Lessons in Spanish — The Wings of Love

— Parables — Tokens of God's Blessing — Irving's Anxiety about his Wife's Journey — A yoimg Visitor — A " Benedict " — Evils of Formality — Benediction — Irving's only Joui'nal Page 249

CHAPTER XII.

1826 — 1827. The Headship of Christ — A Baptized Christendom — Expansion — Ben-Ezra — The Spanish Jesuit — Irving's Consistency — A Christian Nation — Political Opinions — Rest and Relaxation — Beckenham — His "Helper meet for him" — The Hibernian Bible Society — Albury — Henry Drummond — Conference for the Study of Prophecy — Concerning the Second Advent — A

XIV CONTEXTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

School of Proplu't.s — Irving's Vt'.rscs — Tlic Antichrist — A Ilonild of tlio Lord's Coming — Signs of tlie Tinu's — The Fife IV.mV — Help and Consolation — Opening of National Scotch Cluirch — Unanimity of tlic Congregation — Dr. Chalmers's Diary — Irving keeps Chalmers waiting — Dr. Chalmers sliakes his Head — Important Crisis — Fashion went her idle Way — Irving's own Evidence on the Subject — Reality — Ces.sation of tlie Crowd — '' The Plate " — Irving's Onering — The Bible Society — A May Meeting — A Moment of Depression — Projects for the Future — Lectures on Baptism — Seed-time — Ordination Charge — Vaughan of Leicester — The Light that never was on Sea or Shore Page 376

EDWARD IRVING.

CHi^TER I.

HIS PARENTAGE AXD CniLDIIOOD.

In the autumn of the eventful year 1792, at the most smgular crisis of the world's history which has arisen in modern times, — when France was going mad in her revolution, and the other nations of Christen- dom were crowding in, curious and dismayed, to see that spectacle which was to result in so many other changes ; but far away from all those outcries and struggles, in the peaceful httle Scotch town of Annan, Edward Irving, tlie story of whose life is to be told in the followuig pages, was born. He was the son of Gavin Irvmg, of a long-established local kindred, well known, but undistingiiished, who followed the humble occu- pation of a tanner in Annan, — and of Mary Lowther, the handsome and high-spfrited daughter of a small landed proprietor in the adjacent parish of Dornoch. Among the Irving forefathers were a family of Howys, Albigenses, or at least French Protestant refugees, one of whom had become parish minister in Annan, and has left behind him some recollections of lively wit worthy his race, and a tombstone, with a quamt in-

VOL. I. B

2 Tin: IKVINCS AM) KOWTIIHUS.

script ioii, wliirh is one of tlic wonders of tlio nielanclioly and onnvded cluircliyard, or rallu-r hurying-ground ; for tlie present cluireli of tlie town lias left the graves hehind. The same dismal enclosure, wilh its nameless mounds, risinij mysterious throuLrh the ruiTLCcd Ljrass, proclaims the name of Irving on every side in many lines <A' kindred; but these tombstones seem almost the only record extant of the family. The Lowthers were more notable people. The eldest brother, Tristram, whom Edward characterises as " Uncle Tristrani of Dornoch, the wilful," seems to have been one of the acknowledged characters of that characteristic country. He lived and died a bachelor, saving, litigious and ec- centric; and, determined to enjoy in his lifetime that fame which is posthumous to most men, he erected his own tombstone in Dornoch churchyard, recording on it the most memorable of his achievements. The greatest of these were, winning a lawsuit in which lie had been engaged against his brothers, and building a bridge. It appears that he showed true wisdom in getting what satisfaction he could out of this auto- biographical essay while he Uved ; for his respectable heii>> have balked Tristram, and carried away the characteristic monument. Another brother lives in local tradition as the good-natured giant of the district. It is told of him that, having once accompanied his droves into England (they were all giazier farmers by profession), the Scottish Hercules, placid of temper, and perhaps a little slow of apprehension, according to the nature of giants, was refreshing himself in an old- fashioned tavern — locality uncertain — supposed to be either the dock precincts of Liver[)ool, or the eastern

PECULIAEITIES OF THE RACE. 3

wastes of London. Tlie other guests in the great sanded kitchen, where they were all assembled, amused them- selves with an attempt to " chaff" and aggravate the stranger ; and finding this tedious work, one rash joker went so far as to insult him, and invite a quarrel. George Lowther bore it long, probably slow to com- prehend the idea of quarrelling with such antagonists ; at last, when his patience was exhausted, the giant, grimly humorous, if not angry, seized, some say a great iron spit from the wall, some a poker from the hearth, and twisting it round the neck of his unfortu- nate assailant, quietly left him to the laughter and con- dolences of his comrades till a blacksmith could be brought to release him from that impromptu pillory. Gavin Irving's wife was of this stout and primitive race. Her activity and cheerful, high-spkited comehness are still well remembered by the contemporaries of her children ; and even the splendour of the scarlet riding- skirt and Leghorn hat, in which she came home as a bride, are still reflected in some old memories.

The famiHes on both sides were of competent sub- stance and reputation, and rich in individual character. No wealth, to speak of, existed among them : a little patriarchal foundation of land and cattle, from which the eldest son might perhaps claim a territorial desig- nation if his droves found prosperous market across the border ; the younger sons, trained to independent trades, one of them, perhaps, not disdaining to throw his plaid over his shoulder and call his dog to his heels behind one of these same droves, a sturdv novitiate to his grazier Hfe ; while the inclinations of another might quite as naturally and suitably lead him to such

B 2

4 Ills I.MMHOIATK TAMILS.

study of law as may bo necessary for a Scotcli "\\ liter," or to tlu' favourite and most ])rof(nm(lly i-es|n'(ti'd ol' all professions, " the ministry," as it is enllcd in Scot- land. Tlif IrviuiX and Lowthrr families embi'aced both classes, with all the intermediary stfj)s bctwi'cn tlicm ; and Gavin Irving and his wife, in their little house at Annan, stood perhaps about midway between the honiely refinement of the Dnmrricsshire manses and the rude profusion of the Annimdale farms.

Of this marriage eiirht children were born, — tlu'ee sons, John, Edward, and George, all of whom were educated to learned professions; and five daughters, all respectably married, one of whom still survives, the last of her family. All the sisters seem to have left representatives behhid ilium ; but John and George both died unmanied before the death of their dis- tinguished brother. The eldest, whom old friends speak of as " one of the handsomest young men of his day," and whom his father imagined the genius of the family, died obscurely in India on Edward's birthday, the 4th of August, in the prime of liis manhood, a medical ofiTicer in the East India Company's service. He w^as struck down by jungle fever, a sharp and sud- den blow, and his friends had not even the satisfaction of knowing fully the circumstances of his death. Ijut henceforward the day, made thus doubly memorable, was consecrated by Edward as a solemn fast-day, and .spent in the deepest seclusion. Under the date of a letter, wTitten on the 2nd of August some years after, he writes the following touching note : — "4 August, Dies naUilis aUjue fatalis incidit" translated imderneath by himself '• The day of birth and of death draweth nigh."

LIFE IN ANNAN. 5

— the highest art could not have reared such a monu- ment to the early dead.

The stormy firmament under which these children were born, and all the commotions gomg on in the outside world, scarcely seem to have fluttered the still atmosphere of the little rural town in wliich they first saw the hght. There the quiet years were revolving, untroubled by either change or tumult : quiet traffic, slow, safe, and unpretending, sailed its corn-laden sloops from the Waterfoot, the httle port where Annan water flows into the Solway ; and sent its droves across the border, and grew soberly rich without alteration of either position or manners. The society of the place was composed of people much too well known in all the details and antecedents of their hfe to entertain for a moment the idea of forsaking tlieir humble natural sphere. The Kirk lay dormant, by times respectable and decorous, by times, unfortunately, much the reverse, but very seldom reaching a higher point than that of respectabihty. Pohtics did not exist as an object of popu- lar interest. The "Magistrates" of Annan elected their sixth part of a member of Parhament dutifully as his Grace's agents suggested, and gleaned poor posts in the Customs and Excise for their dependent relations. The parish school, perhaps of a deeper efficiency than anything else in the place, trained boys and girls together into stout practical knowledge, and such rude classic learning as lias estabhshed itself throughout Scotland. High Puri- tanism, such as is supposed to form the distinguishing feature of Scotch communities, was undreamed of in this little town. According to its fashion Annan was warmly hospitable and festive, living in a httle round

6 INIVKIISAL rniENDLINKSS,

of social iraiotios. Those Lraiclios ^vvvv (or llio most pari tea partios, of a (k'scrii>li<Mi no! imw known, unless, perliajis, they may still linger in Annan and its eom- panion-towns, — ])arties in which tea was a meal of much serious importance, accomjmnied by refresh- ments of a more substantial kind, and followed by a sober deirree of joviality. The finnilies who thus anmsc'd themselves grew uj) in the closest relations of neighbours] li]) ; they sent off sons into the world to gain name and fiime beyond tlic higliest dreams of the comitryside, yet to be fondly claimed on coming back with an old affection closer than fame, as still the w^ell-known John or Edward of all their contempoi'aries in Annan. Nothing could contrast more strangely w-ith the idea Avhich, looking back, we in- stinctively form of the state of matters at that stiiTing epoch, than this httle neutral-coloured community, dimly penetrated by its weekly newspaper, livmg a long way off from all startling events, and only waking into know- ledge of the great commotions going on around, w^lien otlier occurrences had obliterated them, and their in- terest was exhausted. Nor was there any intellectual or spiritual movement among themselves to make uj). The Kirk, the great mainspring of Scottish local Ufe, was donnant, as we have said, — as indeed the Church was at this era in most places throughout the world. The An- nan clergj^man was one whom oM parishioners still can scarcely bear to blame, but who in his best days could only be spoken of with affectionate pity ; a man whose habitual respect for his own position made him "always himself" in the pulpit — a quaint and melancholy dis- tinction— and who never would tolerate the sound of

TRADITIONS OF THE DISTRICT.

an oatli even when constantly frequenting places where oaths were very usual embelhshments of conversation. Eehgion had httle active existence in the place, as may be supposed ; but the decorum which preserved the minister's Sundays in unimpeachable sobriety kept up throughout the community a certain religious habit, the legacy of a purer generation. Household psalms still echoed of nights through the closed windows, and children, brought up among few other signs of piety, were yet trained in the habit of family prayers. This was almost all the religion which existed in Puritan Scotland in these eventful French Eevolution days ; and even this was owing more to the special traditions of the soil in such a region as Annandale, than to any deeper impulse of faith.

For outside this comfortable prosaic world was a world of imagination and poetry, never to be dis- severed from that border country. Strange difference of a few centuries ! The Annandale droves went peace- ably to the southern market past many a naked peel- house and austere tower of defence on both sides of the border ; but the country, watched and guarded by these old apparitions, had not forgotten the moss-troopers : and far more clearly and strongly, with vision scarcely sufficiently removed from the period even to be im- partial, the district which held the Stones of Irongray, and enclosed many a Covenanter's grave, remembered that desperate fever and frenzy of persecution through which the Kirk had once fought her way. I recollect, at a distance of a great many years, the energy with which a woman-servant from that countryside told tales of the " Lag," who is the Claverhouse of the

8 Tin: COVEXAXTERS.

lH)rilor, till tlio imnginntioii of a nursery, far removed iVom the s[H)t, lixod upon him, iu delianee ol" all nearer elainis, as tlie favourite liorror, — the weird, accursed s])irit, wlioni younL,^ imaginations, primitive and unsen- timental, liave no compunctions about delivering over to Satan. This old world of" adventurous romance and martyr legend thrilled and palpitated around the villages of Annandale. The educated people in the town, the ^\Titer or the doctor, or possibly the minister, all the men who were wiser than their neighbours, might ])er- liajxs entertain enlightened views touching those Cove- nanter fanatics whom enlightened persons are not sup- posed to entertain much sympathy with ; l)ut in the tales of the iugleside — in the narratives heard by the red glow of the great kitclien fire, or in the fann-house chimney corner — enlightened views were out of court, and the home-spmi martyrs of the soil were absolute masters of all hearts and suffrages. And perhaps few people out of the reach of such an influence, can comprehend the effect which is produced upon the ardent, young, inexperienced imaginati(jn by those fa- miliar tales of torture endured, and death accomplished, by men bearing the very names of the hsteners, and whose agony and triumph have occurred in places of which eveiy nook and comer is famihar to their eyes ; the impression made Ls such as notliing after am ever efface or obhterate ; and it has the effect — an effect I confess not very easily explainable to those who have not experienced it — of weaving round the bald services of the Scotch Church a charm of imagination more entrancing and visionary tlian the highest poetic ritual could command, and of connectiiif^ her abs(jlute

BIRTH OF EDW.iED. 9

canons and unpictiiresqiie economy ^vitll the highest epic and romance of national faith. Perhaps this warm recollection of her martyrs, and of that fervent devo- tion which alone can make martyrs possible, has done more to neutralise the hard common sense of the country, and to preserve the Scotch Church from over- legislating herself into decrepitude, than any other in- fluence. We too, like every other Church and race, have our legends of the Saints, and make such use of them in the depths of our reserve and national reticence as few strangers guess or could conceive.

It was in this commmiity that Edward Irvmg received his first impressions. He was born on the 4th of August, 1792, m a httle house near the old town-cross of Annan. There he was laid in his wooden cradle, to watch with unconscious eyes the hght coming in at the low, long window of his mother's narrow bedchamber ; or rather, according to the ingenious h}^30thesis of a medical friend of his own, to he exercising one eye upon that hght, and intensifying into that one eye, by way of emphatic unconscious prophecy of the future habit of his soul, all his baby power of vision — a power which the other eye, hopelessly obscured by the wooden side of the cradle, was then unable to use, and never after regained ; an explanation of the vulgar obhquity called a squint, which I venture to recommend to all unprejudiced readers. The stairs which led to ]\irs. Irving's bedchamber ascended through the kitchen, a cheerful, well-sized apartment as such houses go ; and in the other end of the house, next to the kitchen, was the parlour, a small, inconceivably small room, in which to rear a family of eight stalwart sons and

10 Ills rAPvENTS.

ilaiiLrlitors, and to exercise all the liospitiililies required by tliat sooiable little eoinimiiiity. JUit society in Annan was evidently as indill'erent to a mere matter of s])ace as society in a more advanced development. The tanner's yard was o])])osite the house, across the little street. There he lived in the lull exercise of his un- savouiy occupation, with his childi'cn growing up round him ; a quiet man, chiefly visible as upholding the somewhat severe disciphne of the schoolmaster against the less austere virtue of the mother, who, liandsome and energetic, was the ruling spirit of the house. It is from Mrs. Ii'ving that her fiimily seem to have taken that somewhat solemn and dark type of beauty which, mar- red only by the intervention of the wooden cradle, became famous in the person of her illustrious son. 1 do not say that she realised the ordinary popular notion about the mothers of gi'eat men ; but it is apparent that she was great in all that sweet personal health, force and energy which distinguished her generation of Scottish women ; and which, perhaps, with the shrewdness and characteristic individuality whicli accompany it, is of more importance to the race and nation than any de- gree of mere intellect. " Evangelicahsm," said Edward Irving, long after, " has spoiled both the minds and bodies of the women of Scotland — there are no women now like ray mother." The devoutest evangeUcal believer might forgive the son for that fond and fihal sajing. It is clear that no convention nl manner of speech, thought, or barrier of ecclesiastical proprieties unknown to nature, had limited the mother of those eight Inings, whom she brought up accordingly in all the freedom of a life almost rural, yet amid all the

PEGGY PAINE'S SCHOOL. il

warm and kindly influences of a community of friends. To be born in such a place and such a house, was to come into the world entitled to the famihar knowledge and affection of "all the town" — a fact which may be quamtly apprehended in the present Annan, by the number of nameless quiet old people, who, half admiring and half incredulous of the fame of their old school- fellow, brighten up into vague talk of " Edward " when a stranger names his name.

The first appearance which Edward Irving made out of this house with its wooden cradle, was at a httle school, preparatory to more serious education, kept by "Peggy Paine," a relation of the unfortunate tailor- sceptic, who in those days was in uneasy quarters in Paris, in the midst of the revolution. An old woman, now settled for her old age in her native town, who had in after years encountered her great townsman in London, and remaining loyally faithfid to his teaching all her life, is now, I suppose, tlie sole representative in Annan of the religious body commonly called by his name, remembers in those old vernal days how Edward helped her to learn her letters, and how they two stammered into their first syllables over the same book in Peggy Paine's httle school. This was the beginning of a long friendship, as singular as it is touching, and which may here be foUowed through its simple course. When Edward, long after, was the most celebrated preacher of his day, and Hannah, the Annan girl whom he had helped to learn her letters, was also in London, a servant strugghng in her own sphere through the troubles of that stormier world, her old schoolfellow stretched out his cordial hand to her, without a moment's

1-J IFAXNAII I>i)L'GLAS.

sliriukinsi iVoin llic work in wliidi her liaiul was cnQ;nfiO(]. Tt wa^ iintunil that all the wmld ;il)<»ut her should soon know of that friciulship. And Hannah's "• family " were ambitious, like everybody else, of the acquaintance of the hero of the day. He was too much sought to be easily accessible, till the master and mistress bethought them- selves of the hitercession of their maid, and sent her witli their invitation to back it by lier prayers. The result was a triumph for Hannah. Irving gratified the good people by going to dine with them for his school- fellow's sake. I am not aware that anytlnng romantic or remarkable came of the introduction so accom- ])lished, as perhaps ought to have happened to make the incident poetically complete ; but I cannot help retrardinir it as one of the T)leasantest of anecdotes. Hannah lives at Annan, an old woman, pensioned by the grateful representative of the family whom she had faithfully served, and tells with tears this story of her friend ; and stands a homely, solitary pillar, the repre- sentative of the " Catholic Apostohc Church " in the ])lace which gave its most distinguislied member birth. The next stage of Edward's education was gi'eatly in advance of Peggy Paine. Schoolmasters must have been either a more remarkaljle race of men in those days, or the smaller immber of them must have enhanced their claim upon p(4)ular appreciation. At least it was no uncommon matter for the parishes and little toAvas of Scotland to fix Avith pride upon their schoolmaster as the greatest boast of their district. Such was the case with Mr. Adam no])e, who taught the young L'A'ings, and after them a certain Thomas Carlyle from Ecclefechan, with other not undistinguished men.

ANNAN ACADEMY. 13

There were peculiarities iu that system of education. People below, the rank of gentry did not think of sending their daughters to what were called boarding- schools ; or at least were subject to much derisive remark if they ventured on such an open e\idence of ambition. The female schools in existence were dis- tinctively sewing schools, and did not pretend to do much for the intellect ; so that boys and girls trooped in together, ahke to the parish-school and the superior Academy, sat together on the same forms, stood together in the same classes, and not mifrequently entered into tough combats for prizes and distinctions, whimsical enough to hear of now-a-days. Of this description was the Annan Academy, at which Edward does not appear to have taken any remarkable position. He does not seem even to have attained the distinction of one of those dunces of genius who are not unknown to litera- ture. Under the severe discipline of those days, he sometimes came home from school with his ears "pinched until they bled," to his mother's natural resentment ; but found no solace to his wounded feelings or members from his father, who sided with the master, and does not seem to have feared the effect of such trifles upon the sturdy boys who were all destined to fight theu- way upward by the brain rather than the hands. The only real glimpse which is to be obtained of Edward in his school days discloses the mournful picture of a boy " kept in," and comforted in the ignominious soh- tude of the school-room by having his " piece " hoisted up to him by a cord through a broken window. How- ever, he showed some liking for one branch of educa- tion, that of mathematics, in which he afterwards dis-

14 OUTDOOU EDUCATION.

tinguisliod liimsrlf. ll was tin* jiractice in Aimau to devote one clay »»!' tlic week si)e('ially l<> inathematical lessons, an exceptional clay, wliirh the boys hailed as a kind of holiday.

The little town, however, was not destitute of classical ambition. Tradition tells of a certain blind John who had i^icked u]i a knowledge of Latin in the parish school, chii'lly from hearing the lessons of other boys there ; and had struggled somehow to such a height of latinity that his teaching and his pupils were renowned as far as Edinburgh, whore awful ]irofcssors did not scorn to acknowledge his attainments. It is probable that Edward did not study under this unauthorised in- structor ; and the orthodox prelections of the Academy did not develop the literaiy inclinations of the athletic boy, who found more engrossmg interests in every glen and hillside. For nothing was wanting to the perfec- tion of his education out of doors. There were hills to climb, a river close at hand, a hospitable and friendly countiy to be explored ; and the miniature port at the Waterfoot, where impetuous Sol way bathed with tawny salt waves the little pier, and boats that tempted forth the adventurous boyhood of Annan. Early in Edward's life he became distinguished for feats of swimming, Avalking, rowing, chmbing, all sorts of open-air exer- cises. The main cun-ent of his energy flowed out in this direction, and not in that of books. His scattered kindred gave full occasion for long walks and such local knowledge as adventurous schoolboys delight in ; and when he and his companions went to Dornoch, to his mother's early home, where his uncles still lived, it was Edward's amusement, says a surviving relative,

SOLWAY SANDS. 15

to leap all the gates in the way. This fact survives all the speculations that may have been in the boy's brain on that rural, thoughtful road. His thoughts, if he had any, dispersed into the hstening air and left no sign ; but there can be no mistake about the leapmg of the gates. In this early period of his hfe he is said to have met with an adventure, sufficiently picturesque and impor- tant to be recorded. Every one who knows the Solway is aware of the pecidiarities of that singular estuary. When tlie tide is full, a nobler firth is not to be seen than this brimming flood of green sea-water, with Skiddaw glooming on the other side over the softer slopes of Cumberland, and CrifTel standing sen- tinel on this, upon the Scotch sea-border ; but when the tide is out, woehil and lamentable is the change. Solway, shrunk to a tithe of its size, meanders, gleaming through vast banks of sand, leaving here and there a little desert standing bare in the very midst of its chan- nel, covered with stake-nets wliich raise their heads in the strangest, unexpected way, upon a spot where vessels of considerable burden might have passed not many hours before. The firth, indeed, is so reduced in size by the ebbing of the tide, that it is possible to ride, or even to drive a cart across from one side to the other ; a feat, indeed, which is daily accomphshed, and whicli might furnish a little variation upon the ancient ro- mantic routine of Gretna Green, as the ferryman at the Brough was in former times equally qualified with the blacksmith at the border toll, and not without much patronage, though his clients were humbler fugitives. When, however, Solway sets about liis daily and nightly reflow, he does it with a rush and impetuosity worthy

10 ESCAriNC FKOM THE TIDE.

of tlu' >|);irr ]\v has to fill, and is a (laiijjjerous play- lollow Avlu'ii "at tlic turn." One day, while tlicy were t^till children, Joliii and lulward Irving are said to htive strayed down iijion these great sands, with the original intention of meeting their uncle, George Lowther, who was exi)ected to cross Solway at the ebb, on his way to Annan. The scene was specially charming in its wild solitude and freedom. In that wilderness of sand and shingle, with its gleaming salt-water pools clear as so many mirrors, full of curious creatures still unknown to di'awing-room science, but not to schoolboy observa- tion, the boys presently forgot all about their imme- diate errand, and, absorbed in tlieir own amusements, thouijht neither of their uncle nor of the risino; tide. While thus occuj^ied, a horseman suddenly came up to them at full gallop, seized first one and then the other of the astonished boys, and throwing them across the neck of his horse, galloped on without pausing to addi'ess a word to them, or even perceiving who they were. WHien they liad safely reached the higher shingly bank, out of reach of the pursuing tide, he drew bridle at last, and pointed back breathless to where he had I'ound tliem. The startled children, perceiving the danger they had escaped, saw the tawny "waves pursuing almost to where they stood, and the sands on which they had l3een playing Ijuried far under that impetuous sea ; anel it was only then that the happy Hercules-uncle discovered that it was his sister's sons whom he had saved. Had George Lowther been ten minutes later, one of the noblest tragic chap- ters of individual hfe in the nineteenth century need never have been written ; and his native seas, less

EARLY CHARACTERISTICS. 17

bitter than the sea of hfe that swallowed him up at last, would have received the undeveloped fortunes of the blameless Annan boy.

Another momentary incident, much less picturesque and momentous, yet characteristic enough, disperses for the minutest point of time the mists of sixty years, and shows us two urgent cliildish petitioners, Edward with his httle brother George, at the door of a neigh- bour's house in Annan, where there was a party, at which Mrs. Irving was one of the guests. Edward was so pertinacious in his determination to see his mother, that the circumstance impressed itself upon the me- mory of one of the children of the house, ^ii^s. Irving at last went to the door to speak to her children, probably apprehensive of some domestic accident ; but found that the occasion of all this urgency was Edward's anxiety to be permitted to give some of his own hnen to a sick lad who was in special want of it. The permission was given, the boys plunged joyful back into the darkness, and the mother returned to her party, wdiei'e, doubtless, she told the tale with such pretended censure as mothers use. Momentary and shght as the incident is, it is still appropriate to the early history of one who in his after days could never give enough, to whosoever lacked.

Even at this early period of his existence, it has been said that Irving was prematurely solemn and remarkable in his manners, " making it apparent that he was not a child as others," and having " a significant elevation of manners and choice of pleasures." I can find no traces of any such precocity ; nor is it easy to fancy how a natural boy, in such a shrewd and

VOL. L c

18 SLWDAV ril/iKIMAOKS.

humorous rouununiiv. wlicro jionij) of niiy kind \V(Mi1(1 liavo boon sixwlilv lauixhecl out. ol" liim, could have sliown any such sinujularity. Nor was lie ever in the sh'jhtest dcixree (^f tliat abstract and sclt-absorbed fasliiou of mind Avliicli makes a child remarkable. lie seems, however, to liave sought, and got access to, a certain kind of society wliich, though ])erhaps odd enough for a schoolboy, was such as all children of lively uiind and generous sympathies love. At this early period of his life it was his occasional habit on Sundays to walk five or six miles to the little village of Ecclefechan. in com- pany with a pilgrim band of the religious patriarchs of Annan, to attend a little church established there by one of the earher bodies of seceders from the Church of Scotland ; an act which has been attributed to his dissatisfaction with the preaching and character of the Annan minister, already referred to, and his precocious appreciation of sound doctrine and fervent piety. The fact is doubtless true enough ; but I thirds it very uiihkely that any premature love for sermons or dis- crunination c)f their quality was the cause. Scotch dissenters, in their earlier development at least, were all doubly Presbyterian. The very ground of their dissent was not any widening out of doctrine or alteration of Church government, but only a re-assertion and closer return to the primitive principles of the Kirk itself — a fact which popular discrimination in the south of Scotland acknowledged by referring back U) the uii for- gotten " persecuting times " for a name, and entithng the seceders " Wliigs " — a name Avliich they retained until very recent days in those simple-minded districts. The pious people who either originated or gladly took

THE "WHIGS." 19

advantage of such humble attempts to recall the Church to herself, and bring back rehgion to a covenanted but unfaithful country, were thus identified with the saints and martyrs, of whom the whole countryside was eloquent. They were, as was natural, the gravest class of the community ; men wdio vexed their righteous souls day by day over the shortcomings of the minister and the worldly-mindedness of the people ; and proved their covenanting lineage by piety of an heroic, austere pitch beyond the level of their neighbours.

Young Edward Irving had already made liis way, as most imaginative children manase to do, into the confidence of the old people, w^ho knew and w^ere not reluctant to tell the epics of their native dis- tricts: and those epics were all covenanting tales — tragedies abrupt and forcible, or lingering, long-drawn narratives, more fascinating still, in which all human motives, hopes, and ambitions were lost in the one aU- engrossing object of existence, the preservation and confession of the truth. With glowing, youthful cheeks, fresh from the moor or the frith, the boy penetrated into the cottage firesides, where the fragrant peat threw its crimson glow through the apartment, and the old man or the old w^oman, in the leisure of their age, sat in the great highbacked chair with its checked Unen cover ; and with a curiosity still more wistful and eager, as though about to see those triumphs of faith repeated, trudged forth in the summer Sunday afternoons, unbonneted, with his black locks ruffling m the wind and his cap in his hand, amid the little band of patriarchs, through hedgerows frag- rant with every succession of blossom, to where the

c 2

20 ECCLKFKCIIAX.

low frrey liill^ closed in ar.Miiid llmt lilllc lininlcl of Eoclefedian, J:!cch'sl(j Fcc/ianus, forsjfotU'ii shiiiic ol" some imineinorial Celtic saint; a scene not irrandly ])ictures(|iu', hut lull of a sweet ])astoral freedom and i>ulitiide ; the hills ri>inLr ltivv a'jainst the sky, wilh slopes of springy turf, where the sheep pastured, and shepherds of an antique type ]ioudered the ways of God with men : the road crossed at many a point, and sometimes accomi)anied, b}' tiny brooklets, too small to claim a separate name, tinkling unseen among the gras.'^ and luiderwood to join some bigger but still tiny tributar}- of the Annan, streams which had no pre- tensions to be rivers, but Avere only '• waters" like Annan water it-elf. To me this couutiy gleams ^vitli a perpetual youth ; the hills rise clear and wistful through the sharp air, this Avith its Eoman camp indented on its side, tliat with its melancholy Eepen- tance Tower standing out upon the height ; the moor brightens forth as one approaches into sweet breaks of heather and golden clumps of gorse ; the burns sing in a never-failing liquid cheerfulness through all their invisible courses ; freedom, breadth, silence, t(3uched with all those delicious noises: the quiet hamlets and cottages breathing forth that aromatic betrayal of all their warm turf fires. Place in this landscape that grave group npon the way, bending their steps to the iTide meeting-house in which their austere worship AVas to be celebrated, holding discourse as they ap- I)roachcd upon subjects not so much of religious feeling as of high metaphysical theology ; with the boy among them, curiously attracted by their talk, timing his elastic footsteps to their heavj" tread, making

HIS YOUTHFUL COMP ANIONS. 21

his unconscious comments, a wonderful impersonation of perennial youth and genius, half leading, half fol- lowing, always specially impressed by the grey fathers of that world which dawns all fresh and dewy upon his own vision ; and I cannot fancy a better pictiure of old Scotland as it was in its most characteristic districts and individual phase.

This seems the only foundation from which pre- cocious seriousness can be inferred, and it is an impor- tant and interesting feature of his boyhood. The Whig elders no doubt unconsciously prepared the germs of that old-world statehness of speech and dig- nity of manner which afterwards distinguished their pupil ; and they, and the traditions to which they had served themselves heirs, made all the hio;her element and poetry of Hfe which was to be found in Annan. Theh influence, however, did not withdraw him from the society of his fellows. The social instinct was at all times too strong in him to be pre- vented from making friends wherever he found com- panions. His attachment to his natural comrade, his brother John, is touchingly proved by the fact we have already noted ; and another boyish friendship, formed with Hugh Clapperton the African traveUer, who was, like himself, a native of Annan, concluded only with the death of that intrepid explorer. Young Clapperton hved in an adjoining house, Avhich was the property of Gavin Irving, and the same " yard " with its elm trees was common to both the famihes. The boys sometimes shared their meals, and often the fire- side corner, where they learned their lessons ; and the adventurous instinct of young Clapperton evidently

22 STRANHE lUSr'KUSIOX.

li:ul no small inlluonro u]^oii \ho dronms. at least, of liis youngor coin])ani(>ii. < M" tlirsi' tliive boys, so vigorous, bold, ami daring, not one lived to be old ; and tlieir destinies are a singular ])ro()r (if llie Avide dilVusion of life and energy oireling out from one of the most ubseure spots in the eounlry. One Avas to die in India, uncommemorated except by love ; one in Africa, a hero (or victim) of that dread science which makes stepping-stones of men's lives; the third, at a greater distance still from that boyish chinmey-corner, at the height of fame, genius, and sorrow, was to die, a sign and wonder, like other prophets before him. It is sad to connect the conclusion with a beginning which bore httle foreboding of such trairic elements. But it is scarcely possible to note the boyish conclave ■snthout thinking of the singular fortunes and lar separation to which they were destined. The friend- ship that commenced thus was renewed when Clapper- ton and Irving met in London, both famous men; and the last communication sent to England by the dying traveller was addressed to his early friend.

The httle town was at this period in a prosperous condition, and thriving well. AN'licn war quickened the traffic in provisions, and increased their value, Annan exported corn as well as droves. I3ut the in- dustry of the population was leisurely and old-fashi(jned, much unlike the modern type. Many of the poorer folk about were salmon-fishers ; l^ut liad no such market for their wares as now-a-days, when salmon in Annan is about as dear, and rather more difficult to be had, than salmon in London. "WHien there had been a good " t^ike," the fishermen lounged about the Cross, or amused themselves in their gardens, till that windfall

HOME IXFLUEXCES, 23

was spent and exhausted, very much as if they had been mere Celtic fishermen instead of cautious Scots ; and the slow gains of the careful burgesses came more from economy than enterprise. Gavin Irving, however, made progress in his tanner's yard : he became one of the magistrates of Annan, whose principal duty it was to go to chiu-ch in state, and set an official example of well-doing. Tradition does not say whether his son's passion for the Whigs, and expeditions to the Seceders' meeting-house at Ecclefechan, brought any "persecution" upon the boy ; so it is probable those heterodox preach- ings were attended only in summer evenings, and on spe- cial occasions, when Annan kirk was closed. There were clerical relations on both sides of the house scattered through Dumfriesshire, to whom the boys seem to have paid occasional visits ; one of them. Dr. Bryce John- stone, of Holywood, an imcle of Mrs. Irving's, being a notable person among his brethren ; but, farther than the familiarity which this gave with the surrounding country, no special traces of the advantages of such intercourse exist. The loftier aspect of rehgion was in the Wliig cottages, and not in those cosy manses to which Dr. Carlyle, of Inveresk, has lately introduced all readers. It would be almost impossible to exaggerate the in- fluence which aU the homely circumstances and habits of his native place exercised upon a mind so oj)en to every influence as that of Irving. Despite his own strong individuality, he never seems to have come in contact with any mind of respectable powers Avithout taking something from it. His eyes Avere always open, his ingenuous heart ever awake ; and the enthusiastic ad- miration of which he was capable stamped such things

24 LEAVIXfi AX.VAN.

as npjvaroil tt) liim Idvoly, (^r Imiiost. ("n* of good ropiito, imk'lihly upon liis mind. Much lliat Avould bo otlier- wise inexplicable in liis later life is explained by this ; and it is not diHieult to trace the \vorkings of those early inlluences which surrounded him in his childhood throughout lu> life. Tliat, however, \v ill be more eflec- tually done as the stoiy advances than by any parallel of >ULriiestions and acts. His schuul education in Annan terminated when he was only thirteen, without any distmction except that arithmetical one which has been already noted. This concluded the period of his child- hood : his next step subjected him to other influences not less powerful, and directed the course of his young life away fi'oni that home which always retained his affections. The home remained planted in his kindly native soil for many years, long enough to receive his chddi'en under its ](mi1', and many of his friends, and always honoured and distinguished by himself in its unchanging homeliness. His childish presence throws a passing light over httle Annan, rude and kindly, with its fragrant aroma of peat from all the cottage fires ; its quiet street, where groups of talkers gathered in many a leisurely confabulation; its neighbourly existence, close and familiar. Such places might never be heard of in the world but for the rising of individual lights which illuminate them unawares, — lights which have been frequent in Armandale. Such a tender soul as Grahame, the poet of the Sabbath, shines softly into that obscure perspective; and it flashes out before contemporary eyes, and warms upon the remembrance of after generations, in reflections from the stormy and [)atlietic splendour of the subject of this history.

25

CHAPTER II.

HIS COLLEGE-LIFE.

At thirteen Irving began Ms studies at the Edinburgli University : such was, and is still, to a great extent, the custom of Scotch universities, — a habit which, like every other educational habit in Scotland, promotes the diffusion of a httle learning, and aU the practical uses of knowledge, but makes the profounder depths of scholarship almost impossible. It was nearly universal in those days, and no doubt partly originated in the very long course of study demanded by the Church (always so influential in Scotland, and acting upon the habits even of those who are not devoted to her service), from apphcants for the ministry. This lengthened process of education cannot be better described than in the words used by Irving himself, at a much later period of his hfe, and used with natiual pride, as setting forth what his beloved Chiu"ch required of her neo- phytes. " In respect to the ministers," he says, " this is required of them,^ — that they should have studied for four years in a university aU the branches of a classical and philosophical education ; and either taken the rank in hterature of a Master of Arts, or come out from the university with certificates of their proficiency in the classics, in mathematics, in logic, and in natural and moral philosophy. They are then, and not till then,

'26 rUOLONGKl) TROnATION OF SCOTCH MIXISTHRS.

perinittoil to ontrr iij^oii llu' >\\u]y of llicology, orwliich the profossoi^ aro onhiiiiod miiiislcrs of tlie Churcli, clioson to tlioir oli'ux'. Uiulor separate })rofb.ssors they ^tiuly theoloiry, Hebrew, ami I'celesiastical history, for four years, attendinsx from Wniv to six inoiilhs in each year. Thus eight years are eniisuiued iu sLuily." This is, perhaps, the ouly excuse wliieli can be miidc ("or sending boys, still little more than childnMi, into Avhat ought to be the higher labours of a university. Even beginning at such an age, the full course of study exacted from a youth in training for the Church could not be completed till he had reached his twenty-first year, when all the repeated " trials " of the Presbytery liad still to follow before he could enter upon his voca- tion; an apparent and coniprelien-^ihlc reason, if not excuse, for a custom wliicli, according t(j the bitter complaints of its victims, turns the university into a kind of superior grammar school.

At thirteen, accordingly, Edward, accompanied by his elder brother John, who was destined for the medi- cal profession, came to Edinburgh under the charge of some relatives of their Annan schoolfellow, Hugh Claj)- perton ; and the tw^o lads were deposited in a lofty chamljcr in tlie old town, near the college, to pursue their studies with such diligence as was in them. Even to such youthful sons the Edinburgh University has no personal shelter to offer : then, as now, the Alma Mater was a mere aljstract mass of class-rooms, mu- seums, and libraries, and the youths or boys who sought instruction there were left in absolute freedom to their own devices. Perhaps the youtlis thus launched upon the world were too young to take mucli liarm ; or

BOY-STUDENTS. 27

perhaps tliat early necessity of self-regulation, imposed under different and harder cuxumstances than those which . have brought the Enghsli pubhc schools into such fresh repute and popularity, bore all the fruit which it is now hoped and behoved to produce. But whatever may be the virtues of self-government, it is impossible to contemplate without a singular interest and amaze, the spectacle of these two boys, one thir- teen, the other, probably, about fifteen, placed alone in their httle lodging in the picturesque but noisy old town of Edinburgh, for six long months at a stretch, to manage themselves and their education, without tutors, without home care, without any stimulus but that to be received in the emulation of the class-room, or from their books and their own ambition. These circumstances, however, were by no means remarkable or out of the common course of things ; and the sur- prise with which we look back to so strange a picture of boyish life would not have been shared by the con- temporary spectators who saw the south-country boys coming and going to college without perceiving any- thing out of the way in it. The manner in which the little estabhshment was kept up is wonderfully primi- tive to hear of at so short a distance from our sophisti- cated times. Now and then the lads received a box from home, sent by the carrier, or by some " private opportunity," full of oatmeal, cheese, and other homely necessities, and doubtless not without lighter embel- lishments to prove the mother's care for her boys. Probably their hnen was conveyed back and forward to the home-laundry by the same means ; so that the money expense of the tiny estabhshment, with its por-

2"^ IN'DKrF.XnKNCK.

ridge tluis provided, jind its home relishes of liam and cheese, makinir the sclioolboy board festive, iniist liave been of tlie most limited amount. Altogether it is a (juaint httle picture of the patriarchal life, now de- })arted for ever. No private opportunities now-a-days earrv such boxes : and those verv railwavs, which make the merest village next neighbour to all the woiid, have made an end of those direct primitive communi- cations from the family table to its absent members. Nor is it easy to beheve that boys of thirteen, Uving in lonely independence in Edinburgh, where the veiy streets are seducinir and full of fascinations, and where every gleam of sunshine on the hills, and flash of reflec- tion from the visible Firth must draw youthful thoughts away from the steep gracilis of a learning not hitherto found particularly attractive, could li\e within those strait and nari'ow limits and bear such a probation. But times were harder and simpler in the first twenty years of the century. Scotland was a hundred times more Scotch, more individual, more separate from its weal- tliier yoke-fellow than now. No greater contrast to the life of undergraduates in an ancient English university, could be imagined, than that presented by those boy- students in their lofty chamber, detached from all colle- giate associations, Hving in the midst of a working-day population, utterly unimpressed by the neighbourhood of a university, and interpolating the homely youthful idyll of their existence into the noisy, bustling, scold- ing, not over-savoury life of that old town of Edinburgh. Even such a vestijze of academical dress as is to be found in the quaint red gown of Glasgow is unknown to the rigid Protestantism of the Scotch metropohs.

HARD TKAIXIXG. 29

The boys came and went, undistinguished, in their country caps and jackets, through streets, which, full of character as they are, suggest nothing so little as the presence of a college, and returned to their studies in their httle room, with neither tutor nor assistant to help them through their difficulties, and Uved a life of unconscious austerity, in which they themselves did not perceive either the poverty or the hardship ; which, indeed, it is probable they themselves, and all belong- ing to them, would have been equally amazed and indignant to have heard either hardship or poverty attributed to. Crowds of other lads, from all parts of Scotland, hved a similar hfe ; the homely fare and spare accommodation, the unassisted studies ; an.d hi most cases, as soon as that was practicable, personal exer- tions as teachers or otherwise, to help in the expense of theu^ own education, looked almost a natural and inevitable beginning to the hfe they were to lead.

By such methods of instruction few men are trained to pursue and love learning for learning's sake ; but only by such a Spartan method of training the young- soldiers of the future, could the Annan tanner, with eight children to provide for, have given all his sons an education qualifying them for professional hfe and future advancement.

The Edinburgh " Session " lasts only from November till May ; leaving the whole summer free for the re- creation, or, more probably, the labours of the self- supporting students. Indeed, the whole system seems based upon the necessity of allowing time for the intervening work which is to provide means for the studies that follow. When the happy time of release

30 .Un* UN KYS 0\ VOOT.

Mrrivcd, our Aiiiinn Ixtys sonf n\Y llicir boxos \vitli (lio cnrrior, and, all jovlul and vigorous, set out walking Ujion the lionieward road. In after years Irving de- lighted ill ])edestrian journeys; and it was most jiroba- l)ly in those early walks that he learned, what avms his liabitual jiracticc afterwards, to rest in the wayside cottages, and share the potato or llic porridge to be found there. The habit of universal friendliness thus engendered ditl him good service afterwards — for a man, accustomed to sucli kindly rehitions Avith the poorest of liis neighbours, does not need any other training to that frank uncondescending courtesy which is so dear to tlic poor. " Edward walked as tlic crow flies," saj's one of his sun-iving relatives who has ac- companied those widks when time was. Such an eccentric, joyful, straightforwaid ])rogress must have been specially refreshing to the s(^hoolboy students, hastening to all the delights of home and country fi'cedom.

Whether Ir\ing's progress during this period was be5'ond that of his contemporaries there is no evidence ; but he succeeded sufficiently well to take his degree in April 1800, when he was just seventeen, and to attract the friendly regard of Professor Christison, and of the distinguished and eccentric Sir John Leslie, thenMathe- matiail Professor in the Efhnburgh University; both of whom interested themselves in his behalf as soon as he began his own independent career. So far as the hbrary records go, he does not seem to have been an extraordinarily diligent student. There is a story told, which I have not l^een able to trace to any authentic bource, of his having found in a farm-house, in the

EARLY READING. 31

neighbourhood of Annan, a copy of Hooker's Eccle- siastical Polity, which is said to have powerfully attracted him, and given an impulse to his thbuglits. He is also said to have expended almost the whole sum which he had received for the expenses of a journey in the purchase of Hooker's works ; "together with some odd folios of the Fathers, Homer, and New- ton," and to have trudged forward afoot witli the additional load upon his stalwart shoulders, in great dehght with his acquisition. There can be no doubt, at least, of his own reference to " the venerable com- panion of my early days — Eichard Hooker." In op- position to this serious reading stand the Arabian Nights, and simdry books with forgotten but suspicious titles, which appear against his name m those early times in the College library books — most natural and laudable reading for a boy, but curiously inappropriate as drawn from the library of his College. " He used to carry continually in his waistcoat pocket," says one of his few surviving college companions, the Eev. Dr. Grierson, of Errol, " a miniature copy of Ossian ; pas- sages from which he read or recited in his walks in the country, or delivered with sonorous elocution and vehe- ment gesticulation " for the benefit of his companions. This is the first indication I can find of his oratorical gifts, and that natural magniloquence of style which belonged equally to his mhid and person.

Society in Edinburgh was at this period in its culmi- nation. Those were the " Edinburgh Eeview " days, when the brilliant groups whose reputation is more entirely identified with Edinburgh- than that of gene- rations still more exclusively her own, were in full

IM PISTINCTIONS IN S()("II:TV.

pDsscssioii of tlu' Tu'ld. I^tMtkiiiLT back, the l(nvn soonis so occupied and fillod by that brotln'iliood, that it is liard to iniaLMiu' tlic strains oi" life all nnconscions of its existence, and scarcely iniluenced, even unconsciously, h\ its vicinity, wliich went serenely on within the same limiti'd boundaries; and it is -till lianhr \n fancy a yiHith of genius |un>iiiiiu' liis youthful way iiitn the secrets of literature in Edinl)urf;h without the sli<fhtest link of connection with the brilliant lettered society which uave tone and character to the i)lace. But the Antipodes are not farther off from us than were the lights of EcUnburgh society from the rustic student labouring through his classes. As distinct as if they had belonged to different countries, or different centuries, were the young lawyers, not niinh richer, but standhig on the threshold of public life, wiili all its possibilities, and the yoimg clerical students, looking, as the highest hope of their ambition, to the pulpit of a parish church, with a stipend attached of two or three hundred a year at the utmost. In actual means the one might not be much in advance of the other ; but in hopes, prospects, and sun'oundinLTs, how widely different ! Beneath that finnament, flashing with light and splendour, tlie com- mon day went on unconscious, concealing its other half-dawned hghts. Among all the fellow-students of Edward Irving, there are no names which have attained more tlian local celebrity, except that of Thomas Car- lyle, whose fame has overtopped and outlasted that of liis early friend ; and Carlyle did not share the studies of the four first years of his college life. He stands alone among men who subsided intr) parishes, and chaplaincies, and educational chairs ; but who were his

TATEONS AND ASSOCIATES. 33

equals, or more than his equals, in those days — without any connection with, or means of approach to, that splendid circle which, one would imagine, concen- trated within so hmited a sphere as that of Edinburgh, must have found out by magnetic attraction every hght of genius within its bounds. But the ecclesias- tical flats in which the youth stood, together with his humble origin, more tlian counteracted that mag- netism. If the Church everywhere never fails to be reminded that her kingdom is not of this world, that reminder is specially thrust upon her in Scotland, where it is a principle of the creed of both ministers and people to beheve that even the payment in kind of applause and honour, which is gained in every other profession, is a smful indulgence to a preacher ; and where demands are made upon his time and patience far too engrossing to admit the claims of society. Irving- went on in his early career far down in the shade of common hfe, out of reach of those lights which, to the next generation, illuminate the entire sphere — and grew from a boy to a young man, and took his boyish share in the coUege debating societies, and made his way among other nameless youths with no great mark of difference, so far as it appears. Dr. Christison, the Humanity professor, noted him with a friendly eye ; and odd, clumsy, kindly Leshe observed the fervour of the tail lad, and took him for a future prop of science. A younger feUow-student records simply how Irving, being more advanced than he, helped him on with his studies, according to that instinct of his nature which never forsook him. And he read Ossian, and argued in defunct Philomathic societies, where he and other

VOL. I. D

34 CAKKYI.r, S DKSCRI ITION OF IKVIXG.

people fancied lie met equal oj)poneiits ; till it became uec<?^;sar}' for him, seventeen years old, and a graduate of Edinburgh University, to begin to help himself on- wards, during the tedious intervals of his professional training.

lie did this, as all Scotch clerical students do, by teaching. A new school, called the Mathematical School, by some strange caprice, — since it seems to have been exactly like other schools — had just been estab- lished in lladdington ; and l)y the recommendation of Sir John Leslie and of Professor Christison, Irving got the appointment. It was iii the spring of 1810, after one session, as it is called, in the "Divinity Hall," and at the age of eighteen, that he entered u})on this situation. To somewhere about the same period must belong the description given of him in Carlyle's wonderful " Eloge."" " The first time I saw Living was in his native town of Annan. He was fresh from Edinburgh, with college prizes, high character and promise : he had come to see our schoolmaster, who had also been his. We heard of famed professors, of high matters classical, mathematical, a whole wonderland of knowledge ; nothing but joy, health, hopefulness without end looked out from the blooming young man."

Another spectator of more prosaic vision declares liim to have been " rather a showy young man " — a tendency always held in abhorrence by the sober Scotch imagination, which above all things admires the gift of reticence ; or even, in default of better, that pride which takes the place of modesty. Irving, utterly ingenuous and open, always seeking love, and the approbation of love, and doubting no man, did not possess this quality.

EARLY LABOUES. 35

" The blooming young man " went back to the school in which he was once kept in and punished, with candid, joj^il self-demonstration, captivating the eyes which could see, and amusing those which had not that faculty. It was his farewell to his boyish, happy, dependent life.

And it was also the conclusion of his University edu- cation so far as reality Avent. -For four or five years thereafter he was what is called a partial student of Divinity, matriculating regularly, and making his ap- pearance at college to go through the necessary exami- nations, and dehver the prescribed discourses ; but carrying on his intermediate studies by himself, ac- cording to a hcense permitted by the Church. His Haddington appointment removed him definitely from home and its homely provisions, and gave him an early outset for himself into the business and labours of in- dependent fife. So far from being a hardship, or matter to be lamented, it was the best thing his friends could have wished for him. Such interruptions in the course of professional education were all but universal m Scot- land ; and he went under the best auspices and with the highest hopes.

i>

36

CILVrTEK III.

HADDINGTON.

•

Irving oiUcred upon tliis second chapter of his youth- ful hfe in tlic !<unui)( r of 1810. He was tlien in his eighteenth year — still young enough, certainly, for the charge committed to liim. Education was at a very low ebli in Haddington, which had not even a parish school to boast of, but was lost among " borough " regulations, and in the pottering hands of a little corporation. The rismg tide, however, stirred a faint ripple ill tliis quiet place; and the consequence was, the estabhshment of that school called the mathe- matical, to which came groups of lads not very much younger than the young teacher, who had been stupefied for years in such schools as did exist? and some of wliom woke- up like magic under the touch of the boy- student, so httle older than themselves. Coming to the little town under these circumstances, recommended as a distijiguished student by a man of such eminence as Sir Jolni Leshe, the young man had a favourable reception in his new sphere. " When Irving first came to Haddington," wntes one of his pupils, " he was a tall, ruddy, robust, handsome youth, cheerful and kindly disposed ; he soon won the confidence of his advanced pupils, and wai? admitted into the best society in the town and neighbourliood." Into one house, at least, he

THE DOCTORS LITTLE DAUGHTER. 37

went with a more genial introduction, and under cir- cumstances equally interesting and amusing, This was the house of Dr. Welsh, the principal medical man of the district, whose family consisted of one httle daugh- ter, for whose training he entertained more ambitious views than httle girls are generally the subjects of. This httle girl, however, was as luiique in mind as in circumstances. She heard, with eager childish wonder, a perennial discussion carried on between her father and mother about her education ; both were naturally anxious to secure the special sjTupathy and companion- ship of their only child. The doctor, recovering from his disappointment that she was a girl, was bent upon educating her hke a boy, to make up as far as possible for the unfortunate drawback of sex ; while her mother, on the contrary, hoped for nothing higher in her daugh- ter than the sweet domestic companion most congenial to herself The child, who was not supposed to under- stand, hstened eagerly, as children invariably do hsten to all that is intended to be spoken over their heads. Her ambition was roused ; to be educated like a boy became the object of her entire thoughts, and set her httle mind working with independent projects of its own. She resolved to take the first step in this awful but fascinating course, on her own responsibihty. Having already divined that Latin was the first grand point of distinction, she made up her mind to settle the matter by learning Latin. A copy of the Rudiments was quickly found in the lumber-room of the house, and a tutor not much further off in a humble student of the neighbourhood. The little scholar had a dra- matic instinct ; she did not pour forth her first lesson

38 Tllli: FIKST DIX'LKNSIOX.

lis soon JUS it was acquiivd. or laslily iK'trny licr secret, k^lie waited tlie fitting place and moment. It was even- ing, wlien dinner had softened out the asperities of the day : tlie doctor sat in hLXurious leisure in hisdi-essing- irown and shi)])ei^. sipjvinghis coflee ; and all llic cheer- fid accessories ol" 1 1 ic lireside picture were complete, 'flie little heroine had arranged herself under the table, under the crimson folds of the cover, which concealed her small person. Ail was still : the moment had arrived: ''' penna, i)ennce^ pennam!" burst forth the little voice hi breathless steadiness. The result maybe hnauined : the doctor smothered his child with kisses, and even the mother herself had not a word to say ; the victory was complete.

After this pretty scene, the proud doctor asked Sir John Leshe to send him a tutor for the little pupil who had made so promismg a beginning. Sir Johu recommended the youthful teacher who was already in Haddington, and Edward Irving became the teacher of the little gh'l. Their hours of study were from six to eight in the morning — wliich inclines one to imagine that, in spite of liis fondness, the excellent doctor must have lield his household under Spartan discipline ; and agam in the evening after school hours. WTien the young tutor arrived in the dark of the win- ter mornhigs, and found his httle pupil, scarcely dressed, peeping out of her room, he used to snatch her up in his aiTns, and carry her to the door, to name to her the stars shining m the cold firmament, hours before dawn ; and when the lessons were over, he set the child up on the table at which they had been pursuing their studies, and taught her logic, to the great tribidation of

CONFLICT BETWEEN PITY AND TEUTII. 39

the liouseliokl, in wliich tlie little philosopher pushed her inquiries into the puzzhng metaphysics of hfe. The greatest affection sprang up, as was natural, between the child and her young teacher, whose heart at all times of his life was always open to children. After the lapse of all these years, their companionship looks both pathetic and amusing. A life-long friendship sprang out of that early connection. The pupil, with all the enthusiasm of childliood, believed everything possible to the mind which gave its first impulse to her own ; and the teacher never lost the affectionate, indulgent love with which the httle woman, thus con- fided to liis boyish care, inspired him. Their inter- course did not have the romantic conclusion it might have been supposed likely to end in ; but, as a friend- ship, existed unbroken through all kinds of vicissi- tudes ; and even through entire separation, disapproval, and outward estrangement, to the end of Irving's life.

Wlien the lessons were over it was a rule that the young teacher should leave a daily report of his pupil's progress ; when, alas, that report was pessima, the httle girl was punished. One day he paused long before putting his sentence upon paper. The culprit sat on the table, small, downcast, and conscious of failure. The preceptor lingered remorsefully over his verdict, wavermg between justice and mercy. At last he looked up at her with pitiful looks, " Jane, my heart is broken!" cried the sympathetic tutor, " but 1 7nusttell the truth ;" and with reluctant pen he wrote the dread deliverance, pessima ! The small offender doubtless forgot the penalty that followed ; but she has not yet

.10 NKW FRIKXDS.

Ibrgotteii tlio conipaj^sioiiatc diloinnin in \\\\\c\\ Inilli was the unwilling conqueror.

The youth who entered his liouse under sucli circuni- sUmcos soon became a fiivourite guest at the fireside of the Doctor, who, liimself a man of education and intel- ligence, and of that disposition which makes men beloved, was not slow to find out the great qualities of his young visitor. There are some men who seem l)()ni to the inalienable good fortune of lighting upon the best people — " the most worthy" according to Irving's own expression long afterwards — wdierever they go. Ir- ving's happiness in this way began at Haddington. The Doctor's wife seems to have been one of those fair, sweet women whose remembrance lasts longer than greatness. There is no charm of beauty more delight- ful than that fragrance of it which lingers for genera- tions in the place where it has been an unconsciously refining and tender influence. The Annandale youth came into a httle world of humanizing graces when he entered that atmosphere ; and it ^vas only natural that he should retain the w'annest recollection of it through- out his hfe. It must have been of countless benefit to liim in this early stage of his career. The main quality iji himself which struck observers was — in strong and strange contradiction to the extreme devotion of belief manifested in his latter years — the critical and almost sceptical tendency of his mind, impatient of superficial "received truths," and eager for proof and demonstra- tion of everything. Perhaps mathematics, which then reigned paramount in his mind, were to blame; he was as anxious to discuss, to prove and disprove, as a Scotch student fresh from college is naturally disposed

SPORT AND STUDY. 41

to be. It was a peculiarity natural to his age and con- dition ; and as his language was always inclined to the superlative, and his feehngs invariably took part in every matter which commended itself to his mind, it is pro- bable that this inclination showed with a certain exaggeration to surrounding eyes. " This youth will scrape a hole in everything he is called on to beheve," said the doctor; — a strange prophecy, looking at it by that light of events which unfold so many unthought-of meanings in all predictions.

In the meantime he made himself popular m the town; and apart from the delightful vignette above, appears in all his natin-al picturesque individuahty m other recollections. The young master of the mathe- matical school commended himself to the hearts of those whose sons he had quickened out of dunces into inteUigent prize-winning pupils. He was young and poor, and in a humble position still ; but he attracted the warm admiration of the boys, and that enthusiasm which only young creatures in the early blush of existence can entertain for their elders. The means by which he won the hearts of those lads is simple and apparent enough. Though he was severe and peremptory hi school, — "a sad tyrant," somebody says, — out of doors he had just that dehghtful mixture of superior wisdom, yet equal innocence, — that junction of the teacher and the companion which is irresistible to all generous young people. Enthusiastic in his mathematical studies as he had come from Edinburgh, and loving the open air as became an Annandale lad of eighteen, he contrived to connect science and recreation in a social brotherly fashion quite his own. " Having the use of some fine

\i HOLIDAY SCIKNCi:.

iiistruincnts," snys one of liis pupils, Patrick SlierilT, Esq., of Iladdiii^ton, "lie devoted many of his school holidays to the mea.-^uring of heiudits and distances in the surrounding nei'dibourhood, and taking the altitudes of heavenly bodies. Upon such occasions he was in- variably accompanied by several of his pupils." When the stiite of the atmosphere, or any other obstacle, in- terrupted the particular object of the day's excursion, the young teacher readily and joyfidly diverged into the athletic games m which he excelled ; and with the scientific instruments standing harmless by, enjoyed his hohdayas well as if everything had been favourable for their use. Another jjicturesquc glimpse of the boy- philosopher follows. "About this time Mr. Irving fi'equently expressed a wish to travel in Africa in the track of Mungo Park, and during his liohday excursions practised, in concert with his pupils, the throwing of stones into pools of water, with the view of determining the depth of the water by the sound of the plunge, to aid him in crossing rivers ;" a species of scientific inquiiy into which, I have no doubt, the Haddington boys would enter with devotion. This idea of travel, not unnatural to the school-fellow of Hugh Clappcrton, seems to have returned on many occasions to Irving's mind, and to have displayed itself in various character- istic studies, as unlike the ordinary course of preparation for a journey as the above bit of hoHday science. His great bodily strength and dauntless spirit made the idea congenial to him, and he had no very brilliant prospects at home ; indeed, this thought seems to run, a kind of adventurous possibility, through a great part of his life, changing in aspect as his own projects and feehngs

INCIDENT IN ST. GEORGE'S CHURCH. 43

clianged ; and to have afforded liis mind a refuge from the fastidious intolerance of youth when that came upon him, or when cross circumstances and adverse persons ckove him bacl^ at bitter moments upon himself. " Bemg an excellent walker," continues the gentleman already quoted, " all his excursions were made on foot. Upon one occasion when Dr. Chalmers, then rising into fame, was amiounced to preach in St. George's, Edin- burgh, upon a summer week-day evening, Irving set out from Haddington after school-hours, accompanied by several of his pupils, and retmiied the same night, accomphsliing a distance of about thirty-five miles with- out any other rest than what was obtained in church." The fatigue of this long walk was enhvened when the httle party arrived at the church by a httle outbreak of imperious pugnacity, not, perhaps, quite seemly in such a place, but characteristic enough. Tired with their walk, the boys and their youthful leader made their way up to the gallery of the church, where they directed their steps towards one particular pew which was quite unoccupied. Their entrance into the vacant place was, however, stopped by a man, who stretched his arm across the pew and announced that it was engaged. Irving remonstrated, and represented that at sucli a time all the seats were open to the public, but with- out effect. At last his patience gave way ; and raising his hand he exclaimed, evidently with all liis natural magniloquence of voice and gesture, "Eemove your arm, or I will shatter it in pieces ! " His astonished opponent fell back in utter dismay, like Mrs. Siddons' shopman, and made a precipitate retreat, while the rejoicing boys took possession of the pew. Thus, for

U SoriHTY I.N II ADDINGTOX.

tlio rM\<t tiiiR', IrviiiL"^ jincl Cluilmors were brouglil, if not togetlier, at. least into tin- sum' assenll)l3^ Tlie great preaeher knew iiotliiiig of \hv lad wlio hud coiiu' nearly eighteen miles lo luai liim ])rca(li, and sat resting his niiglity youtliful limbs in lli(« scat from whieh he had driven his enemy. Such glimpses arc curious and full of interest, especially in remembrance of other days which awaited ChalnuM-s and Irving in that same church of St. Georixe.

To retm-n to Haddington, however ; L'ving not only estabhshed his place as a warm and life-long friend in the house of the Doctor, but made his way into the homes and society of many of the worthy inhabitants of the httle town. Among those who had children at the ]\Iathematical School and (Opened his house to the teacher, was Gilbert Burns, the brother of the poet, with whom he is said to have had some degree of intimacy; and thoiiLdi t1ic liinnble position of Dominie did not give him a veiy high place in the social scale, and restricted his friendships within the ciixle of tliose whose sons he educated, there were a sufficiently large number of the latter to make their young ])receptor knoAvii and received at most of the good houses in Haddington.

" Social supper parties," says 'Mr. Alexander Inglis, once a resident in Haddington, who has kindly fur- nished me -with some recollections of this period, "were much the custom at this time in lladdinffton, and the hospitahties generally extended far into the night. At these social meetings Irving was occasionally in the habit of broaching some of his singular opinions about the liigh destinies of the human race in heaven.

BOLTON MANSE. 45

where the saints were not only to be made ' kings and priests unto God,' but were to rule and judge angels. Dr. Lorimer (the senior minister of the town) used to hint that there were many more profitable and useful subjects m the New Testament for a divinity student to occupy his thoughts about than such speculations ; but Irving was not to be put down in this way. ' Dare either you or I deprive God of the glory and thanks due to his name for this, exceeding great re- ward?' cried the impetuous young man, according to the report of his old friend : the good Doctor's ready reply was, ' Well, well, my dear friend, both joii and I can be saved without knowing about that.' "

Here Irving also made the acquaintance of Mr. Stewart, then minister of Bolton, afterwards Dr. Stewart of Erskine, who was himself the subject of a sufficiently romantic story. This gentleman had been a medical man, and in that capacity had cured the daughter of a Scotch nobleman of supposed consumption. The phy- sician and patient, after the most approved principles of poetical justice, fell in love with each other and married, and the former changed his profession, and becoming a minister, settled down in the parish of Bolton, and became doubly useful to his people and the neighboin^hood in his double capacity. He too had been able to discern in some degree those quahties of mind and heart, which, despite liis vehement speech and impatience, and love of argumentation, showed them- selves in the young schoolmaster. In this Manse of Bolton Irving was in the habit of spending his Satur- days, along with a young fellow-student of his own, Mr. Story, afterwards of Eosneath. Nor was he without

4G VOUNCi COMrAMONS.

MK'ic'ly of liii> own ago and standing. 1 n ihoso days, wIumi long walks wore habitual lo ovcryhody, TTaddington was within rcai'h o\' lulinburgli ; jn'rhajjs inoi'c distinctly within roach than now, when, instead of tho long pleasant summer afternoon walk, costing nothing, the rapid railway, with inevitable shillings and sixpences, and fixed hours of comhig and going, does away willi distance, yet magnifies the Avalk into a journey. On Satm'days and holidays there was no lack of visitors. A tide of eager young hfe palpitated about the teacher- student, even in that retirement, — hfe of a wonderfully different fashion fi'om that which issues from Entrlish universities ; confined to limits much more narrow^ and bound to practical necessities ; a world more hard and real. Among these comrades there were perhaps scarcely two or three individuals whose studies were not professional ; and among the professional students only a small number who w^ere not, like Irving himself, taxing their j'outhful strength to procure the means of prosecuting their studies. With theological students in particular this was almost tlie rule ; for fcAv were the fortunate men Avho w^ere rich enough to spend their ciglit long years entirely in study. Doubtless this fact gave a certain individual character to the little groups who came to share the liberal boyish hospitality of the young schoolmaster, and filled with much clangor of logic and eager Scottish argumentation his little rooms. Some youtliful wits among them took pleasure in aggravating the vehement temper of their young host, and stirring him into characteristic outbreaks, — the language which afterwards became so splendid being then, it is evident, somewhat magnilr)rjuent, and his

EXTENT OF HIS WORK. 47

natural impetuosity warm with all the passion of youth. But the names of them have passed away, or hve in merely local recollection ; some became teachers of some distinction in Edinburgh ; others, and not a few, went abroad and died off in colonial chaplaincies ; some, the most fortunate, settled down into respectable parish ministers. But who knows anything about those Browns and Dicksons now ?

Irving was also a member of a local literary society, which he helped to originate among young men native to the burgh. The fashion of their meetmgs seems to have been an excellent one. They were in the habit of setting out together to some place of interest near them, often to dainty Dirleton, that pretty artificial viUage which is one of the boasts of East Lothian, and after the walk and talk of the road holding thek seance there — a method which no doubt made their essays and discussions more reasonable, so far as reason was to be expected. It was thus not without activity of mind, cultivated, so far as that was practicable, and kept in constant stimulation by contact with his com- peers, that this period of his life was passed. He seems to have taught most things common to elementary education in his mathematical school ; with Latin of course, the unfaihng representative of higher know- ledge, and key to advancement, as it has been long considered in Scotland ; and to his more advanced and more congenial pupils, the same who carried his instru- ments after him afield, and threw stones with him in zealous devotion, unfolded the mysteries of mathe- matics. His hfe must have been sufficiently laborious to need all the relaxations possible to it. Start-

48 COrRAGE AND cnKHUITLNESS.

iiiLi ;ii MX 111 ilu' inoniinu" — not ;il\v;ivs in wiiihi- inoni- inirs, corlniiily, tliouLjli tlic idea instiiicLivcly recalls tlie icy cliill of lliose starry lioiirs before dawn, to tlie imlieroic licarcr — to conjugate Latin verbs witli the little maid, who perhaps did not ajiprehend all that her ambition was to bring upon her; then returning to his lifty boys, to school them in all the dilTerent funda- mentals of plain uncmbellished knowledge (and the teacher himself was not always immaculate in his spelling) ; with again another private lesson after the fifty had gone to their sports, — those sports in wliiih the eighteen-year old lad was scarcely above joining, — close exercise for the youthful brain and athletic develop- ing form, to which some counterbalance of strenuous physical exertion was necessary.

His independence seems now to have been com- plete. In his humble Haddiimton lodgiufrs he was no loiiirer indebted even lor his oatmeal and cheese to the home household, but had set out manful and early on the road of life for himself Henceforward Edward's expenses did not rank among the cares of the iVnnan home. At seventeen and a half the young man took up liis own burden without a word or token of complaint ; and ever after bore it courageously through all discouragements and trials, never breaking downi or falling back upon the love, which, notwithstanding, his stout heart always trusted in. Neither genius, nor that temperament of genius, impassioned and visionaiy, w'hich he possessed to a large extent, weakened his performance of this first duty which manifested itself to his eyes ; and he seems to have accepted his lot with a certain noble

LEAVES HADDINGTON. 49

simplicity, neither resenting it, nor quarrelling with those whom circumstances made temporarily his superiors. Either people did not ill-use him, or he had some secret power of endurance which turns ill-usage aside. At all events, it is certain that the agonies of the sensitive, not sufficiently respected tutor, or the commotions of the indignant one, have no place what- ever in Irving's vouthful hfe. When the Haddinofton corporation, not hkely to be the most considerate masters in the world, afflicted their young schoolmaster, it is to be supposed that he blazed up at them manfully, and got done with it. At least he has no complaints to make, or old slights to remember ; nor does it seem that he ever sulked at his humble position or close labours at any time in his life.

Irving remained two years at Haddington, during which time he began that singular grave pretence of theological education which is called " partial " study in the Divinity Hall. From the httle Haddington school he was promoted, always with the good offices of Sir John LesHe, who seems to have had a sincere kindness for him, to the mastership of a newly estab- hshed academy in Kirkcaldy ; in which place he spent a number of years, and decided various important matters deeply concerning his future hfe.

VOL. I. E

50

CIIArXEll IV

KIRKCALDY.

" The lang to^vn of Kirkcaldy" extends along the north- ern side of the Firth of Forth, and is one of tlie most important of that long line of httle towns — fishing, weaving, tradmg centres of local activity, — which gleam along the margm of Fife, and help to make an abrupt but important edge to the golden fertile fringe which, according to a pretty, antique description, adorns the " russet mantle " of that characteristic county. These little towns extend in a scattered, l^roken line, downward from Queensfeny, till the coast rounds off into St. Andrew's Bay ; and are full of a busy yet leisurely indus- try, sometimes quickened almost into the restless pulse of trade. Kirkcaldy earned its title of the " lang town " from the prolonged line of its single street, running parallel to the shore for rather more than a mile, and at that time had not widened into proportionate breadtli, nor invested itself with tiny suburbs and the body of scattered population which now gives it importance. Li the year 1812 there was no school in this flourishing and comfortable place, except the parish school, with its confusion of ranks and profound Eepubhcanism of letters, where boys and girls of all classes were rudely drilled into the common elements of education, with

KIRKCALDY ACADEMY. 51

sucli climaxes of Latin and mathematics as were prac- ticable. The professional people of Kirkcaldy, headed by the minister, who had himself a large family of children to educate, and the wellrto-do shopkeepers and householders of the place, determined, accordingl}^, upon the establishment of a new school, of higher pre- tensions, and Edward Irving was selected as its first master. Two rooms in a central " wynd," opening into each other, with a tiny class-room attached — now occupied by a humble schoolmaster, who points to his worm-eaten oaken desks as being those used by " the great Mr. Irving" — were simply fitted up into the new academy.

Without any accessories to command respect, in a humble locahty, with a cobbler's hutch in the sunk story beneath, and common houses crowding round, the new institution, notwithstanding, impressed respect upon the town, and soon became important. Boys and guds, as was usual, sat together at those brown oaken desks without the least separation, and pursued their studies together with mutual rivahy. For some time Irving managed them alone, but afterwards had an assistant, and in this employment remamed for seven years, and liad the training of a generation in his hands. The recollection of him is still fi-esh in the town ; his picturesque looks, his odd ways, his severities, his kindnesses, the distinct indi\dduality of the man. Here that title which afterwards was to be the popular designation of a religious com- munity came into playful use, long and innocently antedating its more permanent meaning, and the academy scholars distinguished each other as " Irving-

E 2

5-2 TKUSONAI, AIM'KAUAXCK.

ites," — a spc'iMn] ami allrriionato l)(>iul of fVatcniily. lie was now twenty, and li.id attaiiu'd liis full heiglit, which some say was two, and some lour inches over six feet; his appearance was nolile and remarkable to a hijih dciiree, liis features fine, his liijure, in its ••reat height, fully developed and vigorous; the only draw- back to his good looks l)eing the defect in his eye, which, with so many and great advantages to comiter- balance it, seems rather to have given piquancy to his face than to have lessened its attraction. Such a fiL!;ure attracted universal attention : he could not pass through a \illage without being remarked and gazed after ; and some of his Kii'kcaldy })upils remember the moment wjien they first sjiw him, with tlie clearness which marks, not an ordinary meethig, but an event. Tliis recollection is perliaps assisted by the fact, that though a divinity student, ah'eady overshadowed by the needful gravity of the priesthood, and in present possession of all the importtmce of a " Dominie," he had no sucli solemn regard to dress as afterwards became one of his peculiarities, but made his appearance in Kirkcaldy in a morning coat made of some set of tartan in whi(ih red predominated, to the admiration of all beholders.

A young man of twenty, with tlie full charge of a large number of boys and girls, in a limited s])ace, and undertaking all the items of a miscellaneous education, no doubt needed the a.ssistance of a somewhat rigorous disci])line, and it is evident that he used its help with • '^ ^-^ much freedom. Sounds were heard now and then proceeding from the schoolroom which roused the pity and indimiation of the audience of neicjhbours out of doors. One of these, a joiner, deacon of his trade, and

A^^^— /-~ ^^/\^ *^. ^VERE DISCIPLIXE.

a man of great strength, is reported to have appeared one day, with his shirt-sleeves rolled up to his elbows and an axe on his shoulder, at the door of the school- room, asking, "Do ye want a hand* the day, ]\ir. Irving ? " with dreadful irony. Another ludicrous mis- take testifies to the o-eneral notion that careless scholars occasionally got somewhat hard measure from the young master. Some good men loitering about their gardens, in the neighbourhood of the " academy," heard outcries which alarmed them ; and, convinced that murder was being accomphshed in the school, set off to save the \dctim ; but discovered, to their great discom- fiture, that the cries which had attracted their sympathy came from an unfortunate animal under the hands of a butcher, and not from a tortured schoolboy. These severe measures, however, by no means obhterate the pleasanter recollection with which Irving's pupils recall his reign at the academy. It was not in his nature to work among even a set of schoolboys without identify- ing himself with them, and carrying them with }iim into all the occupations and amusements which they could possibly be made to bear a share in. On the hoUdays the young teacher might be seen mth both boys and girls in his train, issuing forth to the fields with such scientific instruments as he could command, giving them lessons in mensuration and survejang, which, half in sport and half m earnest, doubtless, were not without then- use to the fortunate lads thus pro- moted to share his hours of leisure. Tlie same lads went with him to the Fkth, where he renewed those

* Anglice — assistance., a helper.

54 " DOINO .\I,1> TIlINJuS IIKARTILY.

feat8 of swiinniinix which Imd (Hstiiiufuislied liim on tlio S<ilway ; and, sometimes willi an urchin on his shoulder, sometimes lioUHni; an oar or a ro])e to sustain tlic more advanced, sometimes len(hnsT the aid ofliis own vi<»;or- ous arm, the young Hercules taught, or endeavoured to teacli, liis pupils to be as fearless in tlie water as himself. If lie might sometimes happen to be discon- tented with his occupation, as was very possible, it never occuiTed to L'\'ing to evidence that feeUng by doing just as httle as could be demanded of him. Exactly the revei"«e was the impulse of his generous, single-minded nature. He went into it with all the fresh, natiu'al ful- ness of his heart. He never seems to have attempted making any division of liimself. And this is no picture of an mteresting student compelled to turn aside from his studies by the necessity of maintaining himself — and if not resentful, at least preservmg a certain reserve and pathetical injured aspect towards the world, as there are so many ; but an entu'e individual man, full of the highest ambition, yet knowing no possibility of any other course of conduct than that of doing what his hand found to do, with all his heart, as freely as if he had loved the work for its own sake. With sucli a disposition, he could not even enter into any work without insensibly getting to love it, and spending him- self freely, with exuberant \olunteer efforts not de- manded of him. Under no circumstances was indif- ference possible to this young man ; though, even then, it is very afiparent, prophetic visions of a very different audience, and of future possibilities which no one else dreamt of, were with him m the midst of his hearty and cordial labours.

KIRKCALDY SANDS. 55

Thus for a circle of years his remarkable figure pervades that little town ; seen every day upon the shore, pacing up and down the yellow sands with books and meditations, — the great Firth rolhng in at his feet in waves more grand and less impetuous than those of his native Solway ; with green islands gleaming in the Hght, and Arthur's Seat looming out through the Edin- burgh smoke in the distance, a moody Hon ; and many a moonhght night upon the same shore, collecting round hhn his httle band of eager disciples, to point out the stars in their courses, and communicate sucli poetical elements of astronomy as were congenial to such a scene. These latter meetmgs were disturbed and brought to a conclusion in a whimsical homely fashion. One setison it happened that, on two different occasions when they met, faUing stars were seen. Forthwith some of the common people took up the notion that Irving drew down the stars, or at least knew when they were to fall. They accordingly watched for him and his pupils, and pushing in amongst them with ignorant, half-superstitious curiosity, broke up the httle conclave. A curious incident in which a fanciful observer might see some dim, mystic anticipations of a future not yet revealed even to its hero. Indoors, in his own do- main, as the different classes went on with their lessons, he moved about m perpetual activity, seldom sitting down, and always fuUy intent upon the progress of his flock. Now and then he gave them a hohday, on con- dition of receiving afterwards an essay describing how they had spent their time — receiving in return some amusing productions largely taken up with bird's nesting and other such exploits of rustic boyliood. Both French

56 illLTO.N LLAS>S.

ami Italian, in addition to tlic stoadior routine of T,;iliii and matluMnatics scorn to have Ix-cn attt'in})tc'd by the ardent younLT teacher ; and liis own class read ^li Hon Avitli him, learning lai-ge portions ot" Paradise Lost by heart. "Wherever the sense seemed involved, the pupils were required to re-arranixc the sentence and give it in prose. This implied a thorough understand- ing of the passage and appreciation of its meaning." Altogether a system of education of a lofty optimist cha- racter, quite as rare and unusual in the present day as at that time. It is said that one of his older pupils came on one occasion to this same ]\Iilton Class before the arrival of her companions, and on reaching the d(^or of the class-room, found Irving alone, reciting to himself one of the speeches of Satan, with so much emph{!sis and so gloomy a countenance, that the terrified girl, unable to conceal her fright, fled precipitately. Some of his pupils — and among these, one or two girls — came to high proficiency in the mathematical studies, whicli were specially dear to theu' yomig instructor; and — much apart from mathematics — Irving so managed U) impress his spiiit upon the lads under his charge, that the common conjunction of boys and girls in this school became the means of raismg a certain chivalrous spirit, not naturally abounding among schoolboys, in Kirkcaldy and its academy. That spiiit of chivalry which, under the form of respect to women, embodies the truest mairnanimous sentiment of strength, rose in- ^•oluntarily among the youths commanded by such a leader. They learned to suspend their very snowball bickers till the girls had passed out of harm's way ; and awing the less fortunate (janiins of the little town by

SCHOOLBOY CHIVALEY. 57

their sturdy cliampionsliip, made the name of " an academy lassie " a defence against all annoyance. The merest snowball directed against the sacred person of one of these budding women was avenged by the gene- rous zeal of the " Irvingites." The girls perhaps on their side were not equally considerate, but won prizes over the heads of their stronger associates with no compunction, and took their full share of the labours, though scarcely of the penalties of the school. Amusing anecdotes of the friendship existing between the teacher ' and his pupils are told on all sides : his patience and consideration in childish disasters, and prompt activity when accidents occurred ; and even his readiness to be joked with when times were propitious. It was neces- sary to secm-e beforehand, however, that times icere propitious. On one such sunshiny occasion some of the boys propounded the old stock riddle about the seven wives with their stock of cats and kits " whom I met going to St. Ives " — and the whole school looked on, convulsed with secret titterings, while their simple-minded master went on jotting down upon his black board in visible figures the repeated sevens of that tricky composition. Their floggmgs do not seem to have much damped the spirit of the Kirkcaldy boys, or diminished their confidence in their teacher.

During the early part of Irving's residence in Kirk- caldy he was still a partial student at the Divinity Hall. During the first three winters he had to go over to Edinbm'gh now and then, to dehver the discoiurses which were necessaiy, in order to keep up his standing as a student. " On these occasions," says the lady fi^om whose notes the chief details of his Kirkcaldy history

58 "■ MUCII-RKSPKCTED riTILS."

are Uiken, *" to ensure his pupils lo-^iiig as little as pos- sible, he used to ai>k them to meet him at the school at six, or halt-piLst six, in the nKiniinix. This arrangement enabled him to go over ihc most important of the lessons before the hour at which the lly started to meet the passage-boat at Kinghorn " — that being, before the age of steamers, the most rapid (Conveyance between Fife and Edinbur<jjh. On his return from one such expedition, he himself describes how, "m fear of a tedious passage across the ferry under night, I requested from a friend of mine in Edinburgh a book, which, by combinini; instruction with amusement, miLflit at once turn to account the time, and relieve the tiresomeness of the voyage." The book was Eauselas ; and was after- wards sent, -with an amusingly elaborate, schoolmaster note, to two young ladies, whom the young teacher (who afterwards made one of them his wife) addresses as " My much respected pupils." The friend who lent the book desned it to be given as a prize to the best scholar in the school, and having been present at the examination, distinguished tliese two, without being able to decide between them ; but at tlie same time depre- cated any mention of himself on account of the trilling value of his gift. Whereupon Irving adds, with quaint antique solemnity, that " it was not the worth but the honour which should be regarded : that the conquerors of Greece and Eome reckoned themselves more hon- oured by the laurel crown than if they had enjoyed the splendid pomp of the noblest triumph ;" and concludes by sending the book to both, so that " by making tlie present mutual, it \vill not only be a testimonial of your progress, but also of that attachment which I hope will

LOVE-MAKING. 59

ripen into cordial friendship ; and wliich it is the more pleasant to observe as its place is too often occupied by jealousy and envy."

He was not always, however, so exemplary in his letter- writing. Only next spring, a year after, one of the ladies to whom, in conjunction with her companion, the above faultless sentiments were inscribed, seems to have ceased to be Irving's "much-respected pupil." The hyperbohcal fiend which talks of nothing but ladies, seems in full possession of the young man in the next ghmpse we obtain of him ; wliich is contained in a letter to his friend Mr. Story, who had apparently met witli some temporary obstruction in his career, and whom Irving felt himself called upon to console. He fulfils this friendly office in the following fashion, begimiing mth sundry philosophical but far from original arguments against despondency : —

" But all these having doubtless occurred to yourself, I pro- ceed to operate upon your feelings, by the much-approved method of awakening your sympathy to the much keener sufferings of your humble servant and correspondent. You must, then, understand that in this town or neighbourhood dwells a fair damsel, whose claims to esteem I am prepared, at the point of my pen, to vindicate against all deadly. Were I to enter into an enumeration of those charms which chal- lenge the world, I might find the low, equal, and unrhyming lines of prose too feeble a vehicle to support my flights. . . . I got to know that this peerless one was prevented from making a promised visit into the country by a stormy Satur- day. I took the earliest opportunity on the next lawful * day of waiting on her, and hinting, when mamma's ear w^as

* A common Scotch expression for week days, excluding the Sunday ; public conveyances used to be advertised as plying " on all lawful days."

60 CONFIDENTIAL DISCLOSURES.

eu^jfaged, that I had business at the same vilhvge some of these eveuiugs, and wouUl be most inclValtly Itlessed If be; lier protector home, if not also abroad: woidd she consent? I might ask lier mother. Tn this most disagreeable of all tasks I succeeded better tliau 1 expected. Hut, alas! after I thouglit everything was in a fair way for yiehliug me an lialf-hour's enjoyment, I was not till then informed that another was to be of the party. This was a terrible obstacle, and how to get the better of it I could not divine. ... I could do nothing the whole afternoon but think how liappy I might be in the evening. Left home about seven o'clock, so as to call on a friend and be ready at eight, the a])pointed hour. 'Twas a most lovely, still evening ; just such as you could have chosen from the whole year for the sighs, pro- testations, invocations, &c. of lovers. I called on my frieml and tried to get him along with me, in order that I might throw on his charge the intruder, if she should happen to be there. It would not do, and I was forced to go alone, resolvingr to make the best of a bad business should I be so unfortunate. ^Mlat, think you, was my disappointment — what imagination can figure — what language describe my tor- ment when I found, she was gone some time ago ? What could I do ? The sea was at hand, but then the tide was not full ; there were rocks at hand, but they were scarcely ele- vated enough for a lover's leap. I took my solitary, gloomy way down by the dark shore. I lingered long beneath the gloom of a ruined castle that overhangs the billow. I listened to the dash of the waves, and cast my melancholy eye to the solitary beacon gleaming from afar. I fancied, fantastically enough, that it was an image of myself separated and driven to a distance from what in the world I valued. At last, how- ever, rny tardy feet, after scrambling on many a ledgy rock, and splashing in many a pool, brought me to the haunts of meiL . . . where there were few stirring to disturb the repose of my silent thoughts ; I stole home and endeavoured to find oblivion of my cares in the arms of sleep. . . . Since that time the unfortunate subject of the above tragic inci- dent has consigned every serious study to neglect."

This wljimsical effusion concludes with a sitrnificant

ENGAGEMENT. 61

note : " Have you got introduced to Miss P. or Miss D. yet ? K you be, present my kind compliments. But at your peril mention a word of the lady to whom I have referred as honouring this part of the world loith her presence I ''

Out of the serio-comic levity of this beginning, how- ever, sprang important conclusions. Though it was only after a distance of long years and much separa- tion, the usual vicissitudes of youthful hfe, and all the lingering delays of a classical j)i"obation, that the engagement was completed, Irving found his mate in Eifeshire. Not long after she had ceased to be his pupil he became engaged to Isabella Martin, the eldest daughter of the parish minister of Kirkcaldy. She was of a clerical race, an hereditary " daughter of the Manse," according to the affectionate popular designa- tion, and of a name already in some degree known to fame m the person of Dr. Martin, of Monimail, her grandfather, who survived long enough to baptize and bless his great-grandchildren — who had some local poetical reputation in his day, and whom the grateful painter, entitled in Scotland " our immortal Wilkie," has commemorated as having helped his early struggles into fame by the valuable gift of two lay figures : and of David Martin, his brother, first proprietor of the said lay figures, whose admirable portraits are well known. Her father, the Eev. John Martin, was an admirable type of the class to which he belonged — an irreproachable parish priest, of respectable learning and talents and deep piety, living a domestic patriarchal life in the midst of the little community under his charge, fidly subject to tlieu" observation and criticism,

62 TlIK MINISTKK OF KIRKCALDY.

hut "without any rival in liis position or iiillucnco; liriuiiinLr uu liis many cliikliXMi aniunif llicni, and spondinLT liis active days in all tliat fatherly close supervision of morals and manners which distinguished and became the old hereditary ministers of Scot- land. He was of the party then called " wild " or " high- flyei's," in opposition to the " Moderates," wdio formed the majority of the Church, and whose flight was certainly low enough to put them in little hazard from any skyey iniluences. Such a man in those days exercised over the bulk of liis people an influence which, perhaps, no man in any position exercises now — and in which the special regard of the really religious portion of his flock only put a more fervent climax upon the traditionary respect of the universal people, always ready, when he was worthy of it, to yield to the traditionary sway of the minister, though equaDy ready to jeer at and scorn him when he was not, with a contempt hicreased by their national appre- ciation of the importance of his office. To the house of this good man Irving had early obtained access, the Clause children in a goodly number being among his scholars, and the Manse itself forming the natural centre of all stray professors of literature in a region which had too many sloops and looms on hand to be greatly attracted that way. The family hi this Manse of Kirkcaldy, which afterwards became so closely related to liim, and the younger members of which understood him all the better that their minds had l)een formed and developed under his instruction, were, during all his after hfe, Irving's fast friends, accom- panjing liim, not with concurrence or agreement

THE MAJTSE HOUSEHOLD. 63

certainly, but with faithful affection and kindness to the very edge of the grave. Irving himself, in one of his somewhat formal early letters, gives us a pleasant, if sHghtly elaborate ghmpse of this domestic circle. He is writing to one of its absent daughters, and apolo- gizing " for not having expressed sooner the higher regard which I have for you."

" But," he proceeds, " I sometimes find for myself an excuse in thinking that almost the whole of that leisure of which you were so well entitled to a share, has been en- grossed in that family circle of which you were wont to form a part, and with which your warmest sympathies will for a long time, perhaps for ever, dwell. They are well, and living in that harmony and happiness which Providence, as it must approve, will not, I pray, soon disturb. Your brothers and sisters, as formerly, have gone on securing the esteem of their teachers, delighting the hearts of your worthy parents with placid joy, and laying up for themselves a fund of useful knowledge, of warm and virtuous feelings, and of pleasing recollections, which will go far to smooth for them the rugged features of life. God grant that they and you may continue to merit all the good that I for one do wish you, and that you may receive all that you merit. By me it shall ever be esteemed amongst the most fortunate events of my life to have been brought to the acquaintance of your father and his family ; and I trust that the intimacy which they have honoured me with, shall one day ripen into a closer connection."

Then follow some counsels to the young lady on her studies (particularly recommending the acquu^ement of " a correct Enghsh accent and pronunciation "), which must have been of rather an ambitious kind.

" Last night we had a talk at the ]\Ianse over a clause in your last letter about your Greek pursuits ; and we have arranged to send you by the first opportunity a copy of

»!4 sisTKK i:i.i/.abi:tii.

floor's Grammar aiul Dunbar's Exorcises, wliicli, Avilli the Greek Testament, will withstand your most diligent efforts for at least one year. Y^n are not far from Cambridge ; you ought to possess yom'self of a complete set of the Cambridge course (Wood and ^'iue's), and study them regularly ; at the same time, be cautious of losing, in the superior convenience and readiness of the analj^ical or algebraical method, the simple and elegant spirit of the ancient Geometry, to which Leslie's elements, especially the Analysis, is so good an intro- duction. I would like to have a correspondence with you on

scientific subjects The news of the burgh I

entrust to those who know them better. The people wear the same faces as when you left ; and their manners seem nearly as stationary. I leave the remainder of my paper to Isabel. I cannot claim, but do liope for a letter soon. When it comes, it shall be to me like a holiday."

The lady addi'essed in this strain of old-fashioned regard and kindness was one with whom, in after hfe, he had mucli intercourse, and who was not only a sister, but a friend capable of appreciating his character. Years after, he expresses, with a certain 7iaive frankness quite his own, his hopes that a dear fiiend about to return to Scotland, and whom he had earnestly advised to many, should be " directed by the Lord to one of those sisters who are in my mind always represented as one." Living's prayer was gi'anted. The warm- hearted and admirable Wilham Hamilton*, the friend

* William Hamilton, a merchant in Cheapside, and, like Irving, a native of Dumfriesshire, was one of the early office-bearers in the Caledonian Chapel, Hatton Garden ; a man who, in the inglorious but profitable toils of business, concealed from the world an amount of practical sagacity, unpurchasable, unacquirable endowment, which might have honoured a higher place, and whose warm heart and benign manners are remembered by many in his own sphere, where no man possessed a more entire popularity. He had a share in originating the "call" from the scanty Scotch congregation, all un- aware of what that call of theirs was to bring about, who brought

HER HUSBAND. 65

of liis choice and faithful counsellor to the end, became his brother-in-law ; and to the sister thus brought into his immediate neighbourhood some of his most touch- ing confidences were afterwards addressed.

He had now completed his necessary tale of collegiate sessions, having been, in the partial and irregular way necessitated by his other occupations, in attendance at the Divinity Hall for six long winters. He was now subjected to the " trials for hcense," which Presbyterian precautions require. " They are now taken to severest trials by the Presbytery of the Church in those bounds where they reside," he himself describes with loving boastfulness, proud of the severities of the Church from which he never could separate his heart, — "and cir- cular letters are sent to all the presbyters in that district, in order that objections may be taken against him who would have the honour, and take upon him- self the trust, of preaching Christ. If no objections are offered, they proceed to make trial of his attainments in all things necessary for the ministry ; his knowledge, liis piety, his learning, and his character. They pre- scribe to him five several discourses ; one an ' Ecce Jesum,' in Latin, to discover his knowledge in that language ; another an exercise in Greek criticism, to discover his knowledge in sacred literature ; another a homily ; another a discourse to the clergy, to know his gifts in expounding the Scriptures ; another a sermon to know his gifts in preaching to the people. These

Irving to London ; was his close and aiFectionate coadjutor for many- years; and not being able at last to follow so far as his beloved friend would have led him, stood silently and sorrowfliUy by to witness that disruption and separation which he could not avert.

VOL. I. F

66 1 11 V 1 X( ; S^ FI RRT S I^RM 0 X.

trials last lialf a ycwr : and briiiL!; iouiid sulliciiail, lu- is permittod to pivarli the G(xs])r] anioiiij: tlio clnirfhes. Vnii ho is not yet ordained, for our C'lmrcli ordaineth no man without a Hock."

It is tluis tliat Irving, when at tlie hciglit of his fame, and opening the great new clnn'ch l)uiU for liim in London, affectionately vaunts the carefulness of his ecclesiastical mother. lie went through his " trials " in the early part of the year 1815, and was fully licensed to preach the Gospel by the Presbytery of Kirkcaldy in the June of that year ; and " exercised his gift," according to the old Scotch expression, thereafter in Kirkcaldy, and other places, with no great amount of popular appreciation. A humorous description of his first sermon, preached in Annan, is given by an early friend. The " haill toun," profoundly critical and much interested, turned out to hear him ; even his ancient teachers, with solemn brows, came out to sit in judgment on Edward's sermon. A certain excitement of interest, unusual to that humdrum atmosphere, thrilled through the building. When the sermon was in full current, some incautious movement of the young preacher tilted aside the great Bible, and the sermon itself, that direful " paper " which Scotch congregations hold in high de- spite, dropped out bodily, and fluttered down upon the precentor's desk underneath. A perfect rustle of ex- citement ran through the chuixh; here was an unhoped- for crisis ! — what would the neophyte do ncjw P The young preacher calmly stooped his great figure over the pulpit, grasped the manuscript as it lay, broadways, crushed it up in his great hand, thrust it into a pocket, and went on as fluently as before. There does not exist

SUPERIOKITY TO "THE PAPER." 67

a congregation in Scotland which that act would not have taken by storm. His success was triumphant. To criticise a man so visibly independent of " the paper " would have been presumption indeed.

In Kirkcaldy, however, his appearances neither ex- cited such interest, nor were attended by any such fortunate accidents. The people hstened doubtfully to those thunder-strains which echoed over their heads, and which were certainly not hke Dr. Martin's sermons. They could not tell what to make of discourses so strangely different from the discourses of other orthodox young probationers, and doubtless the style was still unformed, and had not yet attained that rhythm and music which would not have passed unnoticed even in Kirkcaldy; yet the common complaint alleged against it was perfectly characteristic. " He had ower muckle gran'ner," the good people said, with disturbed looks. Too much grandeur ! most true, but most singular of criticisms! A certain baker, Beveridge byname (let us hand it down to such immortahty as can be conferred by this record), rudely, with Scotch irreverence for the place in which he was, kicked his pew-door open and l3ounced forth out of the church, when the lofty head of the young schoolmaster was seen in the pulpit ; and the same church, which a few years after was disastrously crowded, with hearers coming far and near at the name of the great preacher, thinned out of its ordinary at- tendance in those early days when he was to supply Dr. Martin's place. He got no credit and little en- couragement in what was, after all, his real vocation. The fervent beginnings of his eloquence were thrown back cold upon his heart ; no eye in his audience

F 2

r,R *'(nvi:ii mitklk (.kannkk.

inakiiig response to tlmf iin]i(M'feet spli'iidid voire of lialf-developed genius, wliicli was so wonderfully dis- tinct from tlie common-place shrills of ordinary pulpit declamation, which tliey listened to and. relished. lie had " ower muckk' gran'ner " for the good, people of Kirkcaldy. 1 lis chaotic splendours disconcerted them; and no doubt there Avas a certain justice in the o-eneral voice. A style so licli and splendid might very well have sounded turgid or bombastic in youth, before the harmonious keynote had been found.

He lingered three years after his license as a preacher, in his schoolmaster's desk ; silent, listening to other preachers, not always with much edifica- tion; noting how the people to whom his own "un- acceptableness " was apparent, relished the platitudes of meaner men : laying in imconsciously a certain scorn and intolerance of those limited pretenders to wisdom, whose sham or borrowed coin had fuller currency than his own virgin gold ; and as he sat in a position from which lie could at once watch the ])u]pit and the audience, with thoughts on this moment- ous and often-discussed subject taking gradual form in his mind, he asked himself the reasons of his own apparent failure. He asked himself a still deeper ques- tion, whether this was the preaching of Paul and his brother apostles P This process of thought is apparent throughout all liis works, and above all in the Ora- tions Avith which he first burst upon the world. Those three years of slow successive Sundays, now and then interrupted by an occasional appearance in the pulpit hailed by no gracious looks, gave the silent listener, whose vocation it was to preach, deep insight into, and

OTHER people's SERMONS. 69

deeper impatience of, the common conventionalities of the pulpit. He found out how httle the sermons he heaixl touched his case : to his own mind he represented him- self, all glowing with genius and eagerness, as a repre- sentative of the educated hearer, and chafed, as many a man has chafed since, over the dead platitudes which were only a weariness. It is probable that this com- pulsory pause, irksome as it may have been, was of the profoundest importance both to Irving and to his future eloquence. It dehvered him entirely from the snare of self-admiration, so far as his pulpit efforts were concerned, and concentrated his powers on the perfec- tion of his style and utterance ; while it gave at once to his Christian zeal and human ambition the sharpest of all spurs — the keen stimulus of seeing other men do that work badly or slothfuhy, which he felt it was in him to do weU. The pecuhar position of a Scotch pro- bationer, on the very threshold of the Church, but not within it ; a preacher, but stiU only a layman, with the title of reverend sometimes accorded to him by cour- tesy, but entirely without ecclesiastical position, gave him all the greater facility for forming a judgment upon the inadequacies of the ordinary pulpit. Such specula- tions were not common in those days. People who acknowledged the influence of the Church, considered themselves bound, for reasons both rehgious and poli- tical, to maintain it in all points, and suffer no assault ; while those who did not, held it in entire contempt, as an unimprovable institution. The Kirkcaldy proba- tioner belonged to neither of these classes. He saw with an ideal eye, which went as yet far beyond his powers of execution, what that pulpit could do and

70 HIS THOUGHTS ABOUT rRKACHIXG.

oiiillit to do. TIo w;is by fnr too hold :ind candid, iind too tlioroughlj' a.<;siired of the truth lie licld, to be afraid of attracting notice to its imperfections ; on the con- trary, it chafed his very soul to i)ennit it to be sup- posed that reliuioii mid religious teaching were for the vulgar only, and that what satislicd baker Deveritlge was to be considered sufficient for the world ; and while he was silent his heart burned. With a temperament such as his, loving love and approbation, as it was natural for him to do, and believing in the sincerity of all men, no other discipline could have been half so efTective. He learned, if not to distrust himself, at least to admit, with a certain sorrowful but candid astonish- ment, that the world in general did not take a lofty view of his quahfications : and he paused over it, weighing that and its causes in his heart with manful humility and surprise — meaning to be at the bottom of this ere all wais done ; feeUng m his heart that it was only for a time. During this period of his life, his personal religious sentiments are not ver}^ ap])arent, nor is there any record, so far as I have been able to ascertain, of such a critical moment in his life as those which have formed the turning })oint of so many minds. He was bp(jtless hi manners and morals at all times ; but not without faults of temper; and was specially distinguished by a certain cheerful, cordial pugnacity, and readiness, when occasion called for it, to adopt a boldly offensive line of tactics in support of his own dignity and inde- pendence, or those of his class ; partly stimulated thereto, doubtless, by the great personal strength wliich could no more consent to remain inactive than any other of his gifts. In one of his many walking excur-

ADVENTURE IN A HIGHLAND INN. 71

sions, for example, he and his companion came toahttle roadside inn, where there was but one sitting-room, of a very homely description. The young men left their coats and knapsacks in this room, ordered dinner, and went out to investigate the neighbourhood while it was getting ready. On then' return, however, they found the room occupied by a party of tourists, the only table filled, their dinner forestalled, and their belong- ings huddled into a corner. Eemonstrances were un- availing; the intruders not only insisted that they had a right to retain possession of the room, but resisted the entrance of the hungry and tired pedestrians, and would neither share the table nor the apartment. When fair means were no longer practicable, Irving pushed forward to the window, and threw it wide open ; then, turning towards the company, all ready for action, gravely addressed his comrade: — "Will you toss out or knock down ? " — a business-like inquiry, which, accord- ing to the story, changed with great rapidity the aspect of affairs. Other anecdotes not unsimilar might be quoted. " In the year 1816," says Dr. Grierson, " the 42nd Eegi- ment, having returned after Waterloo, was employed to line the streets of Edinburgh on the day when, at the opening of the General Assembly, the Eoyal Com- missioner proceeded in state from the reception hall in Hunter Square, to St. Giles's. Standing in front of the Grenadier Company, Irving said to me, pointing to the tallest man among them, ' Do you see that feUow ? 1 should hke to meet him in a dark entry.' ' For what reason ?' I inquired. 'Just,' said he, ' that I might find out what amount of drubbing I could bear ! ' "

The meeting of Assembly here referred to was enli-

7J WAKLIKH ASriRATION.

voncd by n inomontniT spociiiicn <>f llic j'oiing man's muscular power. It is iiupossihU', out of Scotland, to form any idea oi" wliat was then the interest excited by the General Assembly, whirh had In-rw for centuries the national parlianuMit of exclusive Scottish principles and feelings. Tlic lale J.ord Cockbuiii in his Memo- riak, as well a,s in his life of Lord Jeffrey, has repro- duced, in sliixht but ur:i]iliic sketches, the characteristic aspect of that imique ecclesiastical body. Scotch churchmen may naturally enough object to the friendly but not reverential description of the brilliant lawyer; but it is almost the only popular picture of the most national of all Scotch institutions which can be referred to. Matters are altered now-a-days ; the unity is broken ; and, however interestuig llie amuial meetings of the Scotch Chmxhes may be, there are now two of them, both of Avhich are incomplete, and neither of wliich has a full title to be called national. At the period of which w^e are now speaking, there was scarcely any dissent in the country ; tlie body of the nation held tenaciously by the Kirk, laymen of the highest class shared m its dehberations, and the most distinguished lawyers of the Scotch bar pleaded in its judicial courts. A great discussion in the Assembly was as interesting to Edinburgh as a great debate in Parliament would be in London to-day ; and the interest, and even excitement, Avhich attended this yearly Convocation, had taken a stimulus from the growing stir of external life, and from the still more important growth of existence within. The time was critical for eveiy existing institution. The Church, long donnant, was, like other organisations, betrinning to thrill with a new force, against whi<li nil

GENERAL ASSEMBLY. 73

the slumbrous past arrayed itself; and the Scotclimetro- poUs was stkred with universal emotion to see the new act of that world-long drama which is renewed from age to age in every church and country ; that struggle m which, once in a century at least, indifference and com- mon usage are brought to bay by the new life rismg against them, and, roused at last, fight for their sluggish existence with such powers as they are able to muster. At such a moment occurred the famous " Debate on Plurahties," which Jiolds an important place in the modern history of the Scotch Chm^ch — a debate in which " Chalmers of Kilmany," not long before zea- lously ambitious to hold such pluralities in his own person, but who had since gone through that myste- rious and wonderful change in his \iews, whicli, when clearly honest and undoubted, no human audience can refuse to be uiterested m, was to lead the attack. The plurahties in question were such as might awaken the smiles of the richer estabhshment on the other side of the Tweed, where the word bears a more important meaning. The widest extent of pluralities possible to a Scotch clergjTiian was that of holding a professor's chak in conjunction ■\vith his pulpit and parochial duties. This question, which at the time, from the parties and principle involved, interested everybody, had naturally a double interest for the futm^e ministers of the Chm'ch. The probationers and students of divinity were eager to gain admittance. The Assembly sat in a portion of St. Giles's, known by the name of the Old Assemby Aisle, one of the quaint sub-divisions into which that church, like Glasgow Cathedral in former days, has been partitioned for congregational use and

74 DKBATE ON PLURALITIES.

convciiionco. and wliore tlio narrow pews and deep steep galleries, thrust in between tlie lofty pillars, arc as much out of keeping witli tliose i)illars themselves as is the wliite-washed blank of wall, despoiled of its tombs and altars, under the calm hcisj-ht of the vault above. " The Old Assembly Aisle," says the gentleman already quoted, " afforded but veiy limited accommodation, and the students' gallery was understood to be occui'ied by some persons not of their body. At this Ii'ving felt crreat indiirnation. He remonstrated with the door- keeper, but in vain ; he demanded entrance for himself and othei-s who were excluded ; and when no attention was, or perhaps could be, paid by that official, he put his shoulder to the narrow door, and, applying his Herculean strength to it, fairly wrenched it off its hinges ! The crash interrupted the proceedings of the com-t, and produced both surprise and diversion, but no redress of grievances."

A somewhat unscrupulous mode of entering a church, it must be allowed. Such incidents as these — and they might easily be multi[)lied — dis})lay, in perhaps its least ol)jectionable form, that of dov/nright personal force and resistance, the national characteristic intoler- ance of circumstances, and determination to subdue all outside obstacles to its will, wliich shows so strongly in the youthful development of Scotchmen ; a quahty little recognised, but most influential, and which has largely affected the recent history of the Scotch Church. Nobody can read the Hfe of Chalmers, manful and often splendid as that Hfe is, without a perception of this determined wilfulness, and disincUnation to yield to circumstances. If the same tendency is not so

INTOLERANCE OF CIRCUMSTANCES. 75

apparent in the Jeffreys, Cockburns, and Tytlers of another class, it is probably because the somewhat higher social sphere of the latter had tempered the sharpness of their nationahty. Irving's personal strengtli and rehsh for its exercise threw into amusing outward exhibitions of force a quahty wliich, though always pictiu-esque and characteristic, is not always amiable.

As the time of his probation lengthened out, it is probable that Irving, with all his inclinations rising towards the profession which the Church had now solemnly sanctioned his choice of, and pronounced him capable for, became very w^eary of his schoolmaster life. Another school, in opposition to his, w^as set up in the town, not apparently from any distaste towards him, but from the advancing desire for Hberal educa- tion which his OAvn loiig apprenticeship in Kirkcaldy must have fostered ; a school which — singular luck for the httle Fife seaport — secured the early services of Thomas Carlyle. Changes too, and attempts at widening out his limited possibilities, appear in his own life. To increase the profits of his post — which how- ever of themselves appear to have been considerable, as such matters go, — Irving made an attempt to receive private pupils, who were to attend his school and hve under his own charge. For this purpose, he took up his abode in the Abbotshall schooHiouse, at one ex- tremity of the town of Kirkcaldy, but in another parish, the parish schoolmaster of which was, Hke himself, a candidate for the Church. The house was the upper flat of the building occupied as a school, and was more commodious than the majority of schoohnasters' houses. A nobler Marina could not be than the broad terrace

76 ABBOTTSIIALL SCIIOOL-IIOUSE.

overlooking the Firth, but totally unappropriated to any uses of fashion or visitors, upon which stands the schoolhouse of Abbotshall, beholding from its range of windows a wide landscape, always interesting, and often splendid, the Firth with all its islands, the distant spires and heights of Edinburgh, and the green Lothian coast with itsbaVs and hills. Wlu-tlier the pupils were slow to come, or the conjoint household did not answer, or Irving himself tired of the experiment, does not appear ; but it was soon given up, and does not seem to have had any success. "Ay, Mr. Irving once lived here — he was a great mathematician ;" says tlie present in- cumbent, complacent among his gooseberry bushes ; spoken in that sunny garden, such words throw back and set aside the years which have made little change on anything but man. One forgets how his sun rose to noon, and at noon chsastrously went down, carrpng with it a world of hopes ; a mist of distance conceals the brilliant interval between this homely house and the Glasgow Cathedral crj^ot. Here, where once he hved, it is not the great preacher, the prophet and wonder of an age, whose shadow lingers on tlie kindly soil. He was master of Kirkcaldy Academy in those days. He was " a great mathematician " ; the glory of an after career, foreign to the schoolroom, has not rubbed out that impression from the mind of his humble successor on the spot where as yet he had no other fame.

77

CHAPTEE V.

AFLOAT ON THE WOELD.

In 1818, when he had been seven years m Kirkcaldy, and had now reached the maturity of his twenty-sixth year, Irving finally left his school and gave up teacliing. The position seems to have been growing irksome to him for some time before. It was not his profession ; and he was wasting the early summer of his life in work which, however cordially he embraced it, was not the best work for such a man. His assistants too, on whom as the school increased he had to depend, brought him into other complications ; and he was now no longer a youth lingering at the beginning of his career, but a man eager to enter the arena where so many others less worthy were contending for the prize ; and not only so, but a man engaged to be married, to whom nature indicated the necessity of fixing himself permanently in life. Moved by the rising excitement of aU these thoughts, and apparently not without means of maintaining himself for some time, while he saw what work the world might have for him to do, he finally gave up the Kirkcaldy academy in the summer of 1818, and resolving henceforward to devote himself to his own profession alone, came to Edin- burgh, where he took lodgings in Bristo Street, a

7S r,KIST(^ STRIIHT.

loaility s^till frequciUcd by students. Hero he was near the Colletre, and in tlie (*entre of all that mental aetivity from Avliieli he liad been separated in the drowsy retirement of the country town, lie entered larirely and gladly into all academical pursuits. He renewed his acquaintance with friends wlio had been with him in his early college days ; or whom he had met in his hurried \dsits to Edinburgh, Avliile hngering through his tedious " partial " sessions in the Divinity llall ; and seems to have heartily set to work to increase his o^vll attainments, and make himself better quahlied for wdiatever post he might be called to. It is not a brilhant peri^^d in the young man's life, lie presents himself to us in the aspect of an unsuc- cessful probationer, a figure never rare in Scotland ; a man upon whom no sunshine of patronage shone, and whom just as little had the popular eye found out or fixed upon ; whose services were unsolicited either by friendly ministers or vacant congregations — a man fuUy hcensed and qualified to preach, whom nobody cared to hear. With the conviction strong in his mind that this was his appointed function in the world, and with a consciousness of having pondered the whole matter much more deeply than is usual with young preachers, there rose before Irving the immovable baiTier of unsuccess ; — not failure ; he had never found means to tiy liis powers sufiiciently for failure — even that might have been less hard to bear than the Ijlank of indifierence and " unacceptability " which he had now to endure. His services were not required in the world ; the profession for wdiich, by the labours of so many years, he had slowly qualified himself, hung

RENEWED STUDIES. 79

in his hands, an idle capahihty of which nothing came. Yet the pause at first seems to have been grate- fid. He had nothing to do — but at all events he had escaped from long toihng at a trade which was not his. Accordingly, he attended several classes in the Col- lege during the winter of 1818-19 ; among which were Chemistry and Natural History. " He prosecuted these studies," says a fellow-student, " at least in some of their branches, with great delight ; " although in a note written at this period to ]\Ir. Gordon, afterwards Dr. Gordon of Edinburgh, he confesses, while mention- ing that he had been studying mineralogy, " that he had learned from it as httle about the structure of the earth as he could have learned about the blessed Gospel by examining the book of kittle* Chronicles ! " He was also much occupied with the modern languages ; French and Italian especially. These were before the days of Teutonic enthusiasm ; but Irvhig seems to have had a pleasure in, and faculty for, acquiring languages, as was testified by his rapid acquirement of Spanish at an after period of his hfe. Some of the few letters which tlirow any light on this period are occupied with discussions about dictionaries and gram- mars, and the different prices of the same — which show him deep in the pursuit of Itahan, and at the same time actmg as general agent and ready undertaker of country commissions. One of these, addressed to one of his pupils in the manse of Kirkcaldy, conveys, after reporting his dihgence in respect to sundry of such commissions, the following advice : —

" Let me entreat you to pursue your own improve-

* Difficult, puzzling.

80 ADVICK.

moiit j^odulouslv, l)i)lh rcliu-'ioiis and iuk'HcH'tual. iu'ad some of tlie Latin and luilian cliiasics, Avith a view to the higlier acroni])lislnn(Mits of tnsto and sentiment, directinir all your studies by the principle of fitting your mind still more and more for perceiving the beauties and excellences God lias spread over tlic existence of man."

Such a motive for studies of this description has novehy hi it, though it is one that we are well enough accustomed to see appUed to all those educational preparations of science with which our schools abound. While he thus occupied liimself in completing an education which throughout must have been more a gradual process of improving and furnishing the mind than of systematic study, Irving had also engaged warmly m all the recognised auxiliaries of university training. He had been in the habit for years before of occasionally attending the meetings of one of the literary societies of the College, the Philomathic, and taking a considerable share in its proceedings. " He was sometimes very keen and powerful m debate," says Dr. Grierson, " and without being unfair or overbearing, was occasionally in danger, by the vehemence of his manner and the strong language he employed, of being misunderstood and giving offence." But on coming to Edinlnirgh in 1818, he found this society, now defunct, too juvenile for his maturer age and thoughts ; and was instrumental in instituting another of riper preten- sion.<, intended "for the mutual improvement of those who had already completed the ordinary academic course." This was called the Philosophical Association, and consisted only of seven or eight members ; of whom

LITEEAKY SOCIETIES. 81

Edward Irving was one and Thomas Carlyle another. Some teachers of local eminence and licentiates of the Church made up the number. The vast disproportion which exists now between these immortals and the nameless, but in their own sphere not undistinguished, men who surrounded them, was not apparent in those days ; and probably the lesser men were at no such disadvantage in their argumentations as one would imagine at the first glance. The first essay dehvered by Irving in this society was " somewhat unexpectedly," his old compamon says, on the subject of Bible Societies, and " was full of thought, ardour, and eloquence, indi- cating large views and a mind prepared for high and holy enterprise." It would be curious to know what he had to say on a subject which afterwards caused so much commotion, and on which some of his own most characteristic appearances were made. But the Pliilo- sophical Association is also defunct ; other generations have formed other societies of their own, and the early sentiments of Irving and Carlyle are as entirely lost as are those of their less distinguished colleagues.

In the reviving glow of intellectual life, his long pondermg upon the uses of the pulpit came to a dis- tinct issue. He amiounced his intention of burning all his existing sermons, and beffinnino- on a new system : an intention wliich was remorselessly carried out. Those prelections which the youth had dehvered from year to year in the Divinity Hall, and those dis- courses which the Kirkcaldy parishioners had despised, and Beveridge the baker had boldly escaped from hear- ing, were sacrificed in this true auto-da-fe. No doubt it was a fit and wise holocaust. Sacrificino; all his

VOL. I. G

82 r.KGlXS ANEW.

youthful oonvcntionalities and speculations, Irving, at six-and-twenty, began to conijiosc what lie was to address to such imaginary hearers as he himself had been in Kirkcaldy church. The wonderful fame which flashed upon him whenever he stood forth single before the world, takes a certain explanation even beyond the pereiniial explanation of all wonders which lies in genius, from this fact. For the four silent years dm^ing which he had possessed the right to speak, other people had been addressing him out of Dr. Martin's pidpit ; all the ordinarj^ round of argument and exhortation had been tried in unconscious experiment upon the soul of the great preacher, who sat silent, chafing yet weighing them all in his heart. lie knew where they failed, and hoAV they failed, for more distinctly than reason or even imagination could have taught him. Their tedium, their ineffectiveness, their wasted power and super- ficial feehng, told all the more strongly upon him be- cause of his consciousness that the place thus occupied was his own fit place, and that he himself had actually something to say ; and when the schoolmaster's daily duties were over, and he had time and leisure to turn towards his ow^n full equipment, the result was such as I have just described. Warmed and stimulated by his own experience, he began to write sermons to himself — that unpatient, vehement hearer, whose character and inteUigence none of the other preachers had studied. Perhaps, in the midst of all the modern outcry against sermons, the preachers of the world might adopt Irving's method with advantage. Wliile he wrote he had always in his eye that bn'lliant, dissatisfied, restless listener, among the side pews in Kirkcaldy chinch.

BECOMES HIS OWN HEAREE. 83

He knew to a hair's-breadth wliat that impatient indi- vidual wanted, — how much he could bear — how he could be interested, edified, or disgusted. I have no doubt it was one of the greatest secrets of his after power ; and that the sweet breath of popular applause, pleasant though it might have been, would have injured the genius which, in silence, and unacceptableness, and dire prolonged experiment of other people's preaching, came to be its own perennial hearer — the first and deepest critic of its own powers.

One of the firstoccasions when he preached on this new system, Dr. Grierson adds, " He was engaged to supply the pulpit of his old professor of divinity (Dr. Ritchie), when, in his noble and impassioned zeal for the supreme and infaUible standard of Scripture, he startled his audience by a somewhat unqualified condemnation of ecclesiastical formulas, although he still unquestionably maintamed, as he had conscientiously subscribed, all the doctrines of our orthodox Confession of Faith." " He was very fearless, original, strildng, and solemn," con- tinues the same authority, " m many of his statements, illustrations, and appeals." Though he is described, and mdeed afterwards describes himself, as still " feehno- his way ' in respect to some matters of rehgious truth, doubt does not seem ever to have invaded his mind. At no period is there any appearance of either scepti- cism or uncertainty. Wliile his mind took exception at the manner in which the truth was set forth, there is no trace in his life of that period of uncertain or negative belief — that agony of conflict which has come, falsely or truly, to be looked upon as one of the inevitable phenomena of spiritual life in every independent mind,

G 2

84 UXDISTl'RBED BELIEF.

The licroio sinijilicity of Irving's charactor scoiii^^ to liave rejected tliat vain contest among the inconn)relien- sibles M'itli wliicli so many young men begin tlieir career. Even in tlie arbitrary, reasoning, unreasonable days of youtli, logic was not the god of the young man, Avho never could disjoin his head from his lieart, nor dis- solve the absolute unity of nature m which God had made liini ; and he seems to have come through all the perils of his time — a time in which scepticism, if less refined, was by a great deal franker, honester, and more outspoken than now — with a heart untouched ; and to have entirely escaped what Avas then called Free-think- ing. \Miether his personal piety originated in any visible crisis of conversion it is impossible to tell. There is no trace of it in his liistory, neither does he himself refer to any sudden hght cast upon his hfe. " I was present once or twice about this period," Dr. Grierson tells us, " when he was asked to conduct family prayers. He was very slow, pointed, and emphatic, and gave one, as yet, more the idea of profound, earaest, and devout thinking, than of simple and fervent petitioning." But it is impossible to point to any portion of his life as that in which the spiritual touch was given which vivified all. His behaviour was at all times blameless, but never ascetical. " He associated with, and lived in the world, ■svithout restraint, joining the forms and fashions of mixed society," says an anonymous writer, supposed to be Allan Cunningham, wdio afterwards acknowledges, Avith an apologetic touch of horror, that his social habits Avent almost the length of vulgarity, since he was once in the habit of smoking Avhen in the company of smokers !

HIS HADDINGTON PUPIL. 85

But this seems the hardest thing that anyone has to say against him.

While in Edinburgh, and entering into all the modest pleasures of the httle intellectual society above de- scribed, Irving met once more the httle pupil Avhose precocious studies he had superintended at Haddington. He found her a beautiful and vivacious gM, with an affectionate recollection of her old master ; and the young man found a natural charm in her society. I record this only for a most characteristic, momentary appearance which he makes in the memory of his pupil. It happened that he, with natural generosity, introduced some of his friends to the same hospitable house. But the generosity of the most hberal stops somewhere. When Irving heard the praises of one of those same friends falling too warmly from the young- lady's hps, he coidd not conceal a httle pique and mor- tification, which escaped m spite of him. Wlien this httle ebulhtion was over, the fah^ culprit turned to leave the room ; but had scarcely passed the door when Irving hurried after her, and called, entreating her to return for a moment. Wlien she came back, she found the simple-hearted giant standing penitent to make his confession, " The truth is I was piqued," said Irving ; " I have always been accustomed to fancy that / stood liighest m your good opinion, and I was jealous to hear you praise another man. I am sorry for what I said just now — that is the truth of it ;" — and so, not pleased, but penitent and candid, let her go. It is a fair repre- sentation of his prevailing characteristic. He could no more have retained what he felt to be a meanness on

8G C.^'DOUR AND rUUXAClTY.

liisiiiiiul iinconfcssod, tliaii lie could luivc persevered in the wrouLj.

Willi this hmnilitv, howevrr, was conjoined, in the most natural and genial union, all that old })ugnacity which had distinguished hiiu in lornier times. Pre- tension excited his Avrath wherever he saw it ; and perhai)s lie was not so long-suffering as his gigantic uncle. A stoiy of a similar description to some already quoted belongs to this period of his life. He had undertaken to escort some ladies to a })ublic meeting, where it was necessary to be in early attendance at the door to obtain a place. Irving had taken up a position on the entrance steps with liis charges under his wing, when an official personage came pushing his way tlirougli the crowd, and ordering the people to stand back. \\nK'n no attention Avas paid to him this autho- ritative person put out his hand to thrust the Hercules beside him out of his way. Irving raised in his hand the great stick he carried, and turned to the intruder : "Be quiet, sir, or I will annihilate you!" said the mighty probationer. The composure with Avhich this truculent sentence was delivered drew a burst of laughter from tlie crowd, which completed the discomfiture of the unfortunate functionary.

Thus the session — the few busy months of university labours — the long year of expectation and hope, passed over amid many occupations and solacements of friend- ship. But when the door was closed in the dun-coloured Bristo-street room, where nothing was to be seen from the windows but a dusty street, which miglit have flourished in any vulgar town in existence, and bore no trace of those enchantments of Edinljurgh windows,

CLOUDED PROSPECTS. 87

which make up for long stairs and steep ascents, the young man's prospects were not over-cheerfuL He had put forth all his powers of mind and warnmgs of experience upon his sermons, but the result had not followed his expectation. He was still, after a year's interval, the same unemployed probationer that he had left Kirkcaldy; liis money nearly about spent, most likely, and his cogitations not joyful. What he was to do was not clearly apparent. That he was not to be a teacher again seems distinct enough ; but whether he was ever to be a preacher on Scottish soil was more than uncertain. When he had shut out the world which would not have him, the young man returned into his sohtude, making up his mind with a grieved surprise, wdiich is quite touching and grand in its unthought-of humihty, that this gift of his, after all his labours, was still not the gift which was to prove effectual in liis native country. He loved liis country witli a Idnd of worship, but still, if she would not have him, it was needfLil rather to carry what he could do else- where, than to lie idle, making no use of those faculties which had to be put to usury accordmg to his Master's commandment. The countryman of Mungo Park and schoolfellow of Hugh Clapperton bethought himself — In all the heathen world which hems Christendom about on every side, was there not room for a missionary ac- cording to the apostohc model, — a man without scrip or purse, entering in to whosoever would receive him, and passing on when he had said his message ? A missionary, A\dth Exeter Hall expectant behind him, and a due tale of conversions to render year after year, Ii^ving never could have been; but in his despondency and discourage-

ss Tin: Ai'ttsTOLic missionary.

inont tlio youtliful tluniglil wliirli had sl.irrcd him hiiig ago, returned, as a kind of conilbrt and liojK'ful alterna- tive, to liis mind. He no longer east stones into the })ools, as he did with the Haddington sehool-boys, but he set about the zealous .study of languages, in order to <|ualily himself for the kind of mission he purposed. To make his way through the continent, a rehgious wanderer totally unencumbered with worldly provisions, it was neces.saiy to know the languages of the countries which he had to cross ; and the idea refreshed him in the tedium of his long probation. When the arrival of summer dispersed his friends, Irving took refuge among his books, with thoughts of this knight-errantry and chivalrous enter]")rise swelling above the weariness of sickened hope. It was not the modem type of missionaiy, going, laden Avith civilisation and a printing press, to clear his little garden in tlie Aviiderness. It was the red-cross knight in that annour dinted with the impress of many battle-fields ; it was the apostolic mes- senger, imdaunted and solitaiy, bearing from place to ])lace the gospel for which he could be content to die. The young man looked abroad on this prospect, and his heart rose. It comforted him when the glow of summer found him, country Ijred and countiy loving as he was, still shut up in the shaljby world of Bristo-street. " Ee- jected by the living," he is recorded to have said, " I conversed with the dead." Ilis eyes turned to the east, as was natural He thought of Persia, it is said, where the Malcolm.s, his countrj^nen, from the same vigorous soil of Annandale, were making themselves illustrious. And with grammars and alphabets, with map and his- tory-, with the silent fathers of all literature standing by.

DOMESTIC LETTERS. 89

prepared himself for this old world demonstration of his allegiance and his faith.

Some letters which have lately come into my hands, and of the existence of which I was unaware at the time the above pages were written, lift the veil from this silent period of his hfe, and reveal, if not much of his loftier aspirations, at least all the hopeful uncer- tainty, the suspense, sometimes the depression, always the warm activity and expectations, naturally belonging to such a pause in the young man's existence. They are all addressed to the Martin family, who had done so much to brighten his life in Kirkcaldy ; and show how his style in letter-^vriting begins to widen out of its youthful formahty into ease and characteristic utterance. Ever exuberant m his expressions of obli- gation and gratitude, he "wiites to the kind mother of the Kirkcaldy manse as " her to whom, of matrons, I owe the most after her who gave me birth ; " and warmly acknowledges that "the greater part of that which is soothing and agreeable in the experiences of my last six years is associated with your hospitable house and dehghtful family ; " while, amid somewhat solemn comphments on the acquirements of that family, their former teacher joins special messages " to Andrew, with my request that each day he would read, as regu- larly as his Bible, some portion of a classical and of a French author ; and to David, that he would not forget the many wise havers he and I have had together." In another letter to Mrs. Martin, the young man begs her acceptance, with many deprecations of the clumsy pre- sent, of a hed^ which he describes as " the first article of furniture of whicli I was possessed," confessing that

LX> CAllLYLK.

" it is a cunibroiis and inoloaant iiu'inorial." "But let mo dipiify it wliat I can," lie adds (juaintly, " by the fer- vent prayer that while it aj)])ertains to your household it may always support a healthful body, and pillow a somid head, and shed its warmth over a warm ami honest heart. After such a benediction you never can be unkind enough to refuse me." To Mr. Martin, Irv'ing writes more gravely of his own affairs, discuss- ing at length some projects for his future occupation, all of which culminate in the proposed travels on which he had set liis heart, and which were to be commenced by study in Gennany. The following letter opens a gUmpse into that youthful world, all unaware of its own future, and thinking of terminations widely different from those which time has brought about, which will show how another career, as briUiant and longer than Irving's, took its beginmng in the same cloudy regions of uncertainty and unsuccess : —

" Carlyle goes away to-morrow, and Brown the next day. So here I am once more on my own resources, except DLxon, wlio is [better] fitted to swell the enjoyment of a joyous than to cheer the solitude of a lonely hour. For this Carlyle is better fitted than any one I know. It is very odd, indeed, that he should be sent for want of employment to the country; of course, like every man of talent, he has gathered around this Patmos many a splendid purpose to be fulfilled, and much improvement to be wrought out. ' I have the ends of my thoughts to bring together, which no one can do in this thoughtless scene. I have my views of life to reform, and the whole plan of rny conduct to new-model ; and into all I have my health to recover. And then once more I shall venture my bark upon the waters of this wide realm, and if she cannot weather it, I shall steer west, and try the waters of another world.' So he reasons and resolves ; but surely a

HOPES AND FEARS. 91

worthier destiny awaits him than voluntary exile. And for myself, here I am to remain until further orders — if from the east I am ready, if from the west I am ready, and if from the folk of Fife I am not the less ready. I do not

think I shall go for the few weeks with Kinloch

and I believe, after all, they are rather making their use of me than anything else, but I know not ; and it is myself, not them, I have to fend for, both temporally and spiritually. Grod knows how ill I do it; but per- haps in His grace He may defend me till the arrival of a day more pregnant to me with hours of religious improvement. " I had much more to say of the religious meetings I have been attending, and of the Burgher Synod, and of purposes of a literary kind I am conceiving, but lo ! I am at an end with my paper and time, having just enough of both to com- mend me to the love of your household and to the fellowship of your prayers.

" Your most affectionate friend,

" Edward Irving."

It was while in this condition, and with contending hopes and despairs in his mind, that Irving received a sudden invitation fi'om Dr. Andrew Thomson, the minister of St. George's, to preach in his pulpit. It would be inconsistent mth the loved principles of Presbyterian parity to distinguish even so eminent a man as Dr. Andrew Thomson as of the highest clerical rank in Edinbingh ; but he reaUy was so, in as far as noble talent, a brilliant and distinct character, and — not least important — a church in the most fashionable quarter, coidd make him. With the exception of Dr. Chalmers, he was perhaps the first man of his gene- ration then in the Chm^ch of Scotland ; so that the invitation itself was a comphment to the neglected probationer. But the request conveyed also an intima- tion that Dr. Chahners was to be present, and that he

92 rUEACllES IN ST. GEORGE'S. i:i)INnUKGlI.

^vas tlion in searoli of an assistant, in tlie splendid lal)o\n's lu' was beiiinninir in Glasgow. Tliis invitnlinii umIuimIIv rlianijcd tlio cnrrcMit ot" IrxinLr's tlu)ULi;lits. ll turni'd liini back fruni his plans ui" apostolical wandering, as well as from the anxious efforts of his friends to procure pujnls who might advance his interests, and j^laced before him the most deskable opening to his real pro- fession which he could possibly light upon. That path which should lead him to his chosen work, at home, in the country of his kindred, his love, and his early affec- tions, was dearer to him than even that austere martyr- path which it was in his heart to follow if need was. He went to St. George's with a new inipidse of expecta- tion, and preached, there can be little doubt, that one of his sermons wliich he thought most satisfactory. He describes this event to ]\Ir. Martin as follows, with a frankness of youthful |)leasure, and at the same time a little transparent assumption of indifference as to the result, in a letter dated the 2nd August, 1819 : —

" T preached Sunday week in St. George's before Andrew Thomson ,ind Dr. Chalmers, with general, indeed, so far as I have heard, universal approbation. Andrew said for certain ' It was the f»roduction of no ordinary mind ; ' and how Dr. Chalmers expressed his approbation I do not know, for I never put myself about to learn these things, as you know. I am pleased with this, perhaps more so than I ought to be, if I were as spiritually-minded as I should be — but there is a reason for it. To you yet behind the curtain, la voila! I believe it was a sort of pious and charitable plot to let Dr. C. hear me previous to his making inquiries about me as fit for his afislstant, ^^'Tlethe^ he is making them now he lias heard me, and where he is making them, I do not know. For thoug?i few people can fight the battle of preferment without pre-occupying the ground, &c., I would wish to be one

SUSPENSE. 93

of that few. Full well I know it is impossible without His aid who has planned the field and who guides the weapons, more unerringly than Homer's Apollo, and inspirits the busy champions ; and that I am not industrious in procuring. Oh, do you and all who wish me well, give me the only favour I ask, — the favour of your prayers."

The important moment, however, passed, and the young man returned unsatisfied to his lonely apart- ments. He waited there for some time in blank, discouraging silence ; then concluded that nothing was to come of it, and that this once again his longing- hope to find somebody who understood him and saw what he aimed at, was to be disappointed. This last failure seems to have given the intolerable touch to all his previous discouragements. He got up disgusted from that dull probation which showed him only how effectually all the gates of actual life and labour were barred against him. Even at that disconsolate moment he could still find time to write to his pupil and future sister-in-law about the Itahan dictionary which he had undertaken to procure for her. Then he packed up his books and boxes, and sent them off to his father's house m Annan; but, probably desirous of some interval to prepare himself for that farewell which he intended, went himself to Greenock, meaning to travel from thence by some of the coasting vessels which called at the little ports on the Ayrshire and Galloway coast. Sick at heart, and buried in his own thoughts, he took the ^vi'ong boat, and was obhged to come ashore asain. At that moment another steamer was in all the bustle of departure. Struck with a sudden caprice, as people often are in such a restless condition of inind

;)4 GOES TO IRELAND.

niul foolinii, Irvini: resolved, in liis lialf desperation and inomentary recklessness, to take the lirst which left the quay, and leajiing listlessly into this, found it Irish, and bound for Belfast. The voyage was acconi[)lished in safety, but not without an adventure at the end. Some notable crime had been perpetrated in Ireland about that time, the doer of wliich Avas still at large, filling the minds of tlie people with tlreanis of cap- ture, and suspicions of eveiy stranger. Of all the strangers entering that port of Belfast, perha])s tliere was no one so remarkable as this tall Scotchman, with his knapsack and slender belongings, his extraordinary powerful frame, and his total ignorance of the place, who was travelhng without any feasil:)le motive or ob- ject. The excited authorities found the circumstances so remarkable, that they laid suspicious hands upon the smgular stranger, who was only freed from their surveillance by applying to the Presbyterian minister, the Eev. Mr. Hanna, who liberated his captive brother and took him home with Irish frankness. That visit was a jubilee for the children of the house. Black melancholy and disgust had fled before the breezes at sea, and the amusing but embarrassing contretemps on land ; and Indng's heart, always open to children, expanded at once for the amusement of the children of that house. One of those boys was the Eev. Dr. Ilarma of Edinburgh, the biographer, and son-in-law of Chalmers, wdio, at the distance of so many years, re- members the stories of the stranger thus suddenly brought to the fireside, and his genial, cordial presence which charmed the house.

After this the young man wandered over the north of

WANDERINGS. 95

Ireland, as he had often wandered over the congenial districts of his own country, for some weeks ; pursuing the system he had learned to adopt at home, — walking as the crow flies, finding lodging and shelter in the wayside cottages, sharing the potato and the milk which formed the peasant's meal, A singular journey ; performed in primitive hardship, fatigue, and brotherly kindness ; out of the reach of civilised persons or con- ventional necessities ; undertaken out of pure caprice, the evident sudden impulse of letting things go as they would ; and persevered in with something of the same abandon and determined abstraction of himself from all the disgusts and disappointments of hfe. Neither letters nor tokens of his existence seem to have come out of this temporary flight and banishment. He had escaped for the moment from those momentous ques- tions which shortly must be faced and resolved. Pre- sently it would be necessary to go back, to make the last preparations, to take the decisive steps, and say the farewells. He fairly ran away from it for a moment's breathing time, and took refuge in the rude unknown life of the Irish cabins ; — a thing which most people have somehow done, or at least attempted to do, at tlie crisis of their fives.

When he re-emerged out of this refreshing blank, and came to the common world again, where letters and ordinary appeals of life were awaitmg him, he found a bulky enclosure from his father, in the Coleraine post- office. Gavin Irving wrote, in explanation of his double letter (for postage was no trifle in those days), that he would have copied the enclosed if he could have read it ; but not being able to make out a word, was com-

1XVITAT1(>\ TO GLASGOW.

jH'lk'd Id M-iul 11 en lor liis son's own inspection. Tliis enclosure was from Dr. Clialniers, invitincj Irvinuj to go to Gln^LTow ; ]m\ tlio (late was some weeks back, and tlie invitation was by no means distinct as to the object for wliicli lie was wanted. It was enough, how- ever, to stir the reviving heart of the young giant, wlioni his fall, and contact with kindly mother earth, had re- fi'eshed and re-invi^oratcd. lie set out without loss of time for Glasgow, but only to lind Dr. Chalmers absent, and once more to be plunged into the lingering pangs of suspense.

\Miile waiting the Doctor's return, Irving again re- ported himself and his new expectations to his friends in Kij'kcaldy.

" Glasgow, 1st September, 1819.

" You see I am once more in Scotland ; and how I came to have found my way to the same place I started from, you shall now learn. On Friday last arrived at Coleraine a letter from Dr. Chalmers, pressing me to meet him in Edinburgh on the 30th, or in Gla.'^gow the 31st Aug. 8o here I arrived, after a very tempestuous passage in the Hob Hoy ; and upon calling on the Doctor, I find lie is still in Anstruther, at which place he propo.ses remaining awhile longer than he antici- pated, and requests to have a few days of me there. »So, but for another circumstance, you might have seen me post- ing through Kirkcaldy to Anster, the famed in song. That circumstance is Mrs. Chalmers's ill-health, of which he will be more particularly informed than he is at present by this post ; and then Miss Pratt tells me there is no doubt he will return post-haste, as all good husbands ought. Here, then, I am, a very sorry sight, I can assure you. You may remember how di.sabled in my rigging I was in the Kingdom*; conceive

* Tlie Kingdom of File, fondly no culJed 1 'y its alfectionate popu- lation.

INTEREST IN CHURCH AFFAIRS. 97

me, then, to have wandered a whole fortnight among the ragged sons of St. Patrick, to have scrambled about the Giant's Cause- way, and crossed the Channel twice, and sailed in fish-boats and pleasure-boats, and driven gigs and jaunting-cars, and never once condescended to ask the aid of a tailor's needle. Think of this, and figure what I must be now. But I have just been ordering a refit from stem to stern, and shall by to- morrow be able to appear amongst the best of them ; and you know the Griasgow bodies ken fu' weel it's merely impossible to carry about with ane a' the comforts of the Sa't Market at ane's tail, or a' the comforts of Bond Street either. I shall certainly now remain till I have seen and finally determined Avith Dr. Chalmers ; for my time is so short that if I get home without a finale of one kind or other, it will interfere with the department of my foreign affairs, which imperiously call for attention."

The letter, which begins thus, is filled up, to the length of five long pages, by an account of the organisa- tion of the Synod of Ulster, and of a case of disciphne which had just occurred in it, on which, on behalf of a friend at Coleraine, the traveller was anxious to consult the experience of the minister of Kirkcaldy. In respect to his own prospects, Irving's suspense was now speedily terminated. Dr. Chalmers returned, and at once proposed to him to become his assistant in St. John's. The solace to the yoimg man's discouraged mind must have been unspeakable. Here, at last, was one man who understood the unacceptable probationer, and per- ceived in him that faculty which he himself discerned dimly and still hoped in — troubled, but not convinced by the general disbelief To have his gift recognised by another mind was new life to Ii'\ang ; and such a mind ! the generous inteUigence of the first of Scotch preachers. But with Presbyterian scrupulosit}^, in the

VOL. I. H

y.s DOUnTI-TL OF Ills OWV SUCCESS.

uiidsl of liis camTiioss, TrviiiLT Iiuiilt l):ick still, lie coulil not submit to be '' iiitriulcd uj)(>ii " the people by the mere ^vill of the iiieiimbent, ;uk1 would not iceeive even that LTateful distinction, if he contimu'd as dist^i^teful as he had hitherto found himself. He was not confident of his prospects even when backed by the j)owerful encourajiement of Dr. Chahners. " I will preach to them if you think fit," he is reported to have siiid; "• but if they bear with my preaching, they will be the fii'st people who have borne with it!" Tn this s})irit, with the unconscious liumility of a child, soriy not to satisfy liis judges, but confessing the fEiiliu'c which he scarcely could understand, he preached his first sermon to the fastidious coufiireffation in St. John's. Tliis wa.s in October 1810. "He was generall}' Avell liked, but some people thought him rather flowery. Ilowevcr, they were satisfied that he must be a good preacJier, smcc Dr. Chalmers had chosen him," says a contemporaiy witness. It was thus with litth^ confidence on his own part, and somewhat careless indulgence on tlie part of the people, who were already in possession of the highest preaching of the time, that Irving opened his mouth at last, and bcL^an his natural career.

99

CHAPTER VI.

GLASGOW.

It was in October 1819, that Irving; bef>:an his work in Glasgow — the first real work in his own profession which had opened to him. He was then in the fnll strength of early manhood, seven-and-twenty, the " Scottish uncelebrated Irving," whom his great country- man regretfully commemorates. His remarkable ap- pearance seems, in the first place, to have impressed everybody. A lady, who was then a member of Dr. Chalmers's church, and who had access to the imme- diate circle surrounding him, tells how she herself, on one occasion, being particularly engaged in some do- mestic duties, had given orders to her servants not to admit any visitors. She was interrupted in her occupa- tion, however, notwithstanding this order, by the en- trance of one of her maids, in a state of high excite- ment and curiosity. " Mem ! " burst forth the girl, " there 's a wonderful grand gentleman called ; I couldna say you were engaged to him. I think he maun be a Highland Cliief!" — "-That Mr. Irving!" exclaimed another individual of less elevated and poetical concep- tions— " That Dr. Chalmers's helper ! I took him for a cavalry officer ! " " Do you know, Doctor," said a third, addressing Chalmers himself, " what things people are

H 2

100 IM;. CIIALMKKSS IlKl.l'I'K.

saying about your now a.^sistantH Tlioy say ho 's liko a. brigand ohiof." " Woll, woll," said Dr. Chalniors, willi a smile, ''wliatover ihoy say,tlioy novor tliink liiiii liko any- thing but a loader of nion." Suoh was tho impression he produood upon tho little mercantile-ecelesiastieal world of Ghii^gow. There, a.s cverywhcio, pfo[)le wore instinct- ively suspicious of this strange unconventional figure — did wot know what to make of tho natural grand(>ur about him — tho lofty fashion of speech into which he had al- ready fallen, and which seems to have been entirely appro- jiriate to the garb and aspect in which nature had clothed him. But he found warm friends here, as everywhere, and by means of all hi- (qualities, mental and bodily, his frankness and warmth, and haliit of making himself tho iriond of the humblest individual he encountered, his splendid person and stately manners, took the hearts of the poor by stonn. They are now^ <^lying out of those closes and ^V3^lds of Glasgow, who remember Irving as Dr. Chalmers's helper ; but there still lingers here and there a recollection of that kindliest genial visitor. Chalmers himself, thou<_di a man of the warmest hu- inanity, had at all times a certain abstract intentness about him, which inust have altered tlie character of individual kindness as coming from his hands. His parishioners were to him emphatically his )>arishioneis, the " body " (not vile, perhaps ; but still more pro- foundly important for the experiment's sake thnn for its own) upon wliich one of the most magnificent of experiments was to be tried. But to Irving they were the Johns and Sandys, the Cainj)l)o]ls and Macalisters, — the liunian neighbours wlio were of his personal aaiuiiintance and in(.lividually interesting t(j himself

CONDITION OF GLASGOAV. 101

Such a distinction makes itself known involuntarily. The position he held was one completely secondary and auxiliary, not even answering to that of a curate ; for he was still only a probationer, unordained, without any rights in the Church except the Ucense to preach, which was his sole qualification. He was not responsible for any part of the working of tliat huge machinery which Dr. Chalmers bore up on his Hercu- lean shoulders, and which naturally collapsed when his mighty vital force was withdrawn. The " helper " went about more hghtly, unburdened by social economy ; and gained for himself among the poor people whom it was his daily work to visit, the place of an undoubted and much-prized friend.

Glasgow was at this period in a very disturbed and troublous condition. Want of work and want of food had wrought their natural social effect upon the indus- trious classes ; and the eyes of the hungry weavers and cotton-spinners were turned with spasmodic anxiety to those wild political quack remedies, the inefficacy of which no amount of experience will ever make clear to people in similar circumstances. The entire country was in a dangerous mood ; palpitating through- out with deep-seated complaint and grievance, to which the starving revolutionaries in such towns as Glasgow acted only as a kind of safety-valve, preventing a worse explosion. The discontent was drawing towards its chmax when Irving received his appointment as assistant to the minister of St. John's. In such a large poor parish he encountered on aU sides the mutter- ings of the popular storm. Chalmers, always hberal and statesmanlike, saw the real grievance, which finally

102 IKVIM. S I'OLITRAL SKNTIMEXTS.

labouivd and struir^lod, tbrouLdi tlic ccwtcst of years, into tliat full ivdivss ami (.'stahlislnnent ol" i)()i)u1ar riglit^, wliidi seems lo makr any such crisis impossible now. But Irvinix's mind was of a dillerent construe- tion. He was one of those men of inconsistent pohtics, governed at once by ]irojudices and synijiathies, Avhose " attitude " it is impossible to foretell ; and of whom one can only predict thai lluii- ])olitical opinions will take the colour given by their hr;irt ; mid that the side most strongly and feelingly set forth before them Avill un- doubtedly carr)^ the day. His nature was profoundly conservative ; and yet the boldest innovation might liave secured his devoted support, had it approved itself to liis individuid thoughts. His pohtical opinions, indeed, seem to have been such as are common to hterary men, artists, and women, entirely unconnected with politics, and who only now and then find themselves sufficiently interested t(3 inform themselves upon public matters. Accordingly, he appears in after-life in strong opposi- tion to eveiy measure known as liberal; Avhile in Glasgow, witli those poor revolutionary weavers round him on eveiy side, his heart convincing him of their mlsenes and despair, and his profound trust, not in human nature, but in the human creatures known to himself, persuading him that no harm could come from their hands, he stands perfectly calm and friendly amid the panic, disdaining to fear. That the crisis was an alarming one everybody allows. Notliing less than the horrors of the French revolution — battle and mur- der and sudden death — floated before the terror-stricken eyes of all who had anything to lose. Whig Jeffrey, a non-alarmist and (in moderation) friend of the people.

STATE OF THE COUNTRY IN GENERAL. 103

declares, solemnly, that " If the complamts of the peo- ple are repressed with insults and menaces — if no step is taken to reUeve their distresses and redress their real and undeniable grievances — if the whole mass of their complaints, reasonable and unreasonable, are to be treated as seditious and audacious, and to meet with no other answer than preparations to put them down by force, then indeed we may soon have a civil war among us — and a civil war of a character far more deplorable and atrocious than was ever known in this land — a war of the rich against the poor ; of the Government against the body of the people ; of the soldiery against the great bulk of the labouring classes ; — a war which can never be followed by any cordial or secm^e peace ; and which must end, or rather begin, with the final and complete subversion of those hberties and that constitution which has hitherto been our pride, our treasure, and om' support and consolation under all other calamities."

It was a conjunction of many troubles : foremost among which was that sharp touch of starvation, which makes men desperate ; that Want — most per- tinacious and maddest of aU revolutionaries, who never fails to revenge bitterly the carelessness which lets him enter our Avell-defended doors, — he was there, wolfish and seditious, in Glasgow in the winter of ] 819, plotting pikes and risings, with wild dreams of that legislation never yet found out, which is to make a paradise of earth ; dreams and plots which were to blurt out, so far as Scotland was concerned, in the dis- mal little tragi-comedy of Bonnymuii^ some months later ; and there be made a melancholy end of But

104 IKVINOS COMMDKNCK IN IMIH RADICALS.

wliilo ovorybddy else was propliesyiiiuj horrors, it is tluis that L-viii^ir, with (nuliT domestic pivlaccs of kindness and congratulation, writes to his brother-in-law, Mr. Fergusson, a few months after his arrival in Glasgow. The immediate object of the IcKei- is to congratulate his sister and her husband on (he birlli of their first- born. Heferring to this event in the first place, he says : —

" You have now consigned to your care a more valuahlo article than the greatest Emperor, who is not a fiither, can lKia.st of, — the care of an immortal wlio shall survive wlien this earth sliall have removed without leaving a memorial, save in the memories of those spirits to whom it has heen the train- ing-place for heaven or hell. How much the difference is hetween the real value, so much the difference in general is between the reputed value; ])ut, as the mathematicians say, it is in the inverse way. But of you I know and hope better, that you will account of him while you are spared together as a precious deposit the Almighty has thought you worthy of

" You will look for Glasgow intelligence, and truly I can neither get nor give any. If T sliould report from my daily ministrations among the poorest class and the worst reported- of class of our population, I should deliver an opinion so favourable as it would he hardly safe for myself to deliver, lest I should be held a radical like^vise. Now the truth is, I have visited in about three hundred families, and have met with the kindest welcome and entertainment and invitations. Nay, more, I have entered on the tender subject of their present sufferings, in which they are held so ferocious, and have fovmd them in general both able and willing to entertain the religious lesson and improvement arising out of it. This may arise from the way of setting it forth, which I endeavour to make with the utmost tenderness and feeling, as well is due when you see people in the midst of nakedness and starvation. Yet we are armed against them to the teeth ; and the alarm took so generally that, for all my convictions

THE CALTON WEAVERS. 105

and knowledge, I had engaged a horse-pistol to stand out in defence of my own castle like a true Englishman ! But the storm seems over-driven, although this morning, even, there was a summons to the sharp-shooters by break of day, and all the soldiers to arms in the barracks. Nobody knows a whit, and everybody fears a deal. The common ignorance is only surpassed by the common alarm, and that you know is the most agitating of all alarms. But from Monday to Saturday I am going amongst them without the slightest apprehension; but perhaps I may be convinced by point of pike some day, which I pray may be averted for his sake that should hold it. This is not braggadocio, but Christian (feeling) ; for the blood of the innocent always stains most deeply the hand that sheds

it I hope my father and you won't forget your

Grlasgow jaunt. I will introduce you to some of our Calton weavers, now so dreaded, whom Jeffrey the reviewer calls the finest specimens of the human intellect he has met with .... I commend to your affection my dear mother, from whom I have had a most affectionate letter ; and George, who will prove a credit, I trust, to such two gifted masters as yourself

and your humble servant To all others, my good

and kind friends, commend your affectionate brother,

" Edwakd iRVINa."

It was thus that Irving judged of the dangerous masses, who seemed to other eyes so ripe for mischief ; and it is characteristic to observe the dilTerence between the manner in which this opinion is expressed, and Dr. Chalmers's dehverance on the same subject, contained in his letters to Wilberforce. There the clear-sighted Scotch legislator, whom his profession bounded to a parish, makes a stride of twenty years to the conclusions of another generation, and lays his hand broadly upon that principle which has now been received among the standard principles of English government. " From my extensive minglings with the people," says Dr. Chalmers, " I am quite confident in affirming the power of another

106 (llAl.Mr.US AND lKVIN(i.

t'XiHHlioiit (tlial is besides llie rcpcnl ofeortain .speci- fied tiixes) to be sueli, tluit it woiilil operate witli all the quickness and effect of a cliann in lullinij: tlieir agitated spirits : I mean llir rcpi'al of tlie Corn ]5ill. I have I'ver l)een in llie habit ol'thsliking the interfei'ence of tlic legislature in matters of trade, saving for the purpose of a revenue." Irving lias no tlieorics of cure on liand. His thoughts do not embrace the ]K)lity of nations. lie has not contemplated that troubled sea to divine what secret ciuTcnt it is which heaves its billows into storm. He goes down among the crowds wliich are made of flesh and blood ; he stands among them and calls out with courageous, tender voice that they are all men hke others ; men trustful and coi^dial ; kind U) himself, open to kindness ; whom it behoves their neighbour's to treat, not with the cruelty of fear, but, " ^vith tenderness and feeling, as well is due" he adds witii manly and touching simpHcity, " wheji you see people in the midst of nakedness and starvation." A gi'eater contrast in agreement could scarcely be.

A similar testimony to thtit wliich I have already quoted, and evidence of the position he took in his Glfisgow labours, is conveyed in a letter to Dr. Martin, written upon occasion of tlie death of a relative, in which after some tlioughtful regrets that men take so little pains to " perpetuate for themselves " ties " which give so much enjoyment here, and whicli, judging from the fjroportion of things, must give infinitely more hereafter," he thus conveys his impressions of his new sjjhere in the hght most interesting to his friend : —

"It gave me singular pleasure tfie other uiglit to liear a young man, Mr. Heggie, from Kirkcaldy (foot of Tolbootli

INCESSANT LABOURS. 107

Wynd), who has been of singular utility in this city, reclaim- ing by Sabbath-school operations the forlorn hope of the Salt Market andBriggate — to hear him date his first impres- sions of serious religion from the conversations he held with you before his first communion. This should encourage your heart, for he is, as it were, the nucleus of an establishment including not less than 700 children ; and he is giving them spirit and example in truly a Christian style. Thus the Lord has made you in your parlour instrumental in penetrating and pervading the noisome recesses of this overgrown city. For all the impressions which are abroad I entertain the best opinion of our people ; and I consider the leading ones most grossly misinformed, if not misguided by design. Dr. Chalmers's plan is to take up his district of the parish by groups. I have superadded the taking of them up family by family ; so that every mortal comes in review before me, and into contact with me upon a subject on which they are spoken of as being held by no bounds. Yet so it is — I have hardly encountered anything but the finest play of welcome and congeniality ; and this very half hour have I returned from so pervading twenty families in our sorest district, and have been hailed as the bearer of good tidings, though I

carried nothing with me but spiritual offers I am

making the best of St. John's I can, though I have been of late hardly doing myself justice, being generally compressed to Saturday for pulpit preparations by the week-day occupa- tions of visiting, &c. — yet I think it is well emj)loyed."

This Glasgow parish had come to singular fortune at that moment. After much labour and many exertions, Chalmers, already the greatest preacher and most eminent man in the entire Scotch establishment, had got himself translated from the Tron Church, which was his first charge in Glasgow — solely in order to carry out those social plans which are the greatest distinctive feature of his life — to St. John's. His theory is well known ; but as theories which are weU known are apt

108 TIIK TAUISII Ol' ST. JOIIX.

enoiigli to glide into vjiljuoiu'ss iVoin tliat veiy reason, it may not be amiss to repeat, in tlie simplest mannei', wliat it was. The truth was sim])ly that he had been born, like other men of his generation, into a primitive Scot- land, comparatively little allected by English usages and mamicrs — a self-supporting, independent nation, ignorant of ]ioor-la\vs and workhouses, and full of strenuous hatred to all such liatefid charities. During all the centuries of Presbyterianism, " the plate," or weekly ofiering made at the door of the church on entering, had furnished the parochial revenue of charity ; and upon this national and universal provision for the poor the statesman eye of Chahners fixed ^vith charac- teristic intentness. Like other men of the greatest type, he was unable to believe that what he might do was yet impossible to others. Resolute to show all Scotland and the world that the Church's ancient primitive provision could yet meet all increased modern emergencies, and able from his high position and in- iluence to bring, half by coercion of moral force, half by persuasion, the Glasgow magistrates to accept his terms, he made it a condition of his remaining among them that this parish of St. John's, one of the largest, poorest, and most degraded in the town, shcjuld be handed over to him in undisturbed possession, swept clean of all poor-rates, workhouses, and pubUc parish aid. He did not demand the criminal supervision and power of the sword certainly ; though at this distance of time, and to English readers, the one might seem almost as reasonable as the other ; but he secured his terms with the puzzled civic functionaries, who half be- heved in him. In this parish Chalmers set up the most

ITS AUTOCRAT. 109

surprising, splendid autocracy that has ever been at- tempted— an autocracy solely directed to the benefit of that httle world of people in the most unlovely portion of Glasf?ow. He was no sooner established in his new dominion than he issued imperial orders for a census, and made one in true royal fashion. There were 10,304 souls. The condition in life of most among them was that of weavers, labourers, and factory- w^orkers. About one family in thirty-three kept a servant, and in some parts of the district this point of domestic luxury was even more rare. Bad times, foilure of work, and all the casualties of accident and disease would, according to ordinary calculations, leave a large margin of inevitable pauperism in such a district. But the mmister-autocrat had sworn that pauperism was to be no longer, and he made good his word. F(^r three brilliant vears ' the plate ' not only supphed all the wants of the poor in the parish, but did large service besides in the erection of schools ; and for thirteen years, as long as the machinery originated by the wonderftil imperious vitaHty of this great man could go on without a new impulse, its success continued as perfect as it was ex- traordinary. This seems to me the highest and most wonderful victory of Chalmers's life. It is unique in modern annals — a bold return, out of the heart of all those evils of extreme civihsation which crush the poor, into that primitive hfe when neighbour helped neighbour and friend stood by friend. What an ideal despot, grand patriot autocrat, or irresponsible vizier, that Scotch minister would have made !

In this system of things, Irving took his place in perfect accord, but not rcfccmblance. Statesmanship

no THE SIIOKMAKKII.

was not in liini ; hnt admirnlion and loyal scM'vico wcm'i- of liis very csslmico. Withonl any nil* rioi' vit'ws, lie visited tlioso " tlirce hundrod ianiiiics," — won their con- lidenee and iViendsJiip, in most cases readily enough ; and wlien tliat was not tlie case, took tliem captive by innocent wiles and jiremeditation. One sucli case, which nuist have been a remarkable one, is told in so many dilTerent versions, that it is diiricnlt to decide wliich is the true one. A certain shoemaker, radical and inlidel, was among the number of those under Irving's special care ; a home-workman of course, always present, silent, with his back turned u})on the visitors, and refusing any communication except a sullen humph of impHed criticism, wliile liis trembhng wife made her deprecating curtsy in the foreground. The way in whicli tliis intractable individual was linally won over, is attributed by some tellers of the story to a sud- den happy inspiration on Irving's part ; but, by others, to plot and intention. Approaching the bench one day, the visitor took up a piece of patent leather, then a recent invention, and remarked upon it in somewliat skilled terms. The shoemaker went on with redoubled industiy at his work; but at la.st, roused and exas- perated by the speecli and pretence of knowledge, demanded, hi great contempt, but without raising his eyes, " What do ye ken about leather?" This was just the opportunity liis assailant wanted ; for Irving, though a mimster and a scholar, was a tanner's son, and could discourse learnedly upon that material. Gradually in- terested and mollified, the cobbler slackened work, and listened while his visitor descriljcd some process of making shoes by machiner}% which he had carefully got

"HE KENS ABOUT LEATHEE." lil

up for the purpose. At last the shoemaker so far for- got his caution as to suspend his work aUogether, and hft his eyes to the great figure stooping over his bench. The conversation went on with increased vigour after this, till finally the recusant threw down his arms: — "Od, you 're a decent kind o' fellovv^ ! — do you preach ?" said the vanquished, curious to know more of his victor. The advantage was discreetly, but not too hotly pur- sued ; and on the following Sunday the rebel made a defiant, shy appearance at church. Next day Irving encountered him in the savoury Gallowgate, and hailed him as a friend. Walking beside him in natural talk, the tall probationer laid his hand upon the shirt-sleeve of the shrunken sedentary workman, and marched by his side along the well-frequented street. By the time they had feached the end of their mutual way not a spark of resistance was left in the shoemaker. His children henceforward went to school ; his deprecating wife went to the kirk in peace. He himself acquired that suit of Sunday " blacks " so dear to the heart of the poor Scotchman, and became a churchgoer and respect- able member of society ; while his acknowledgment of his conqueror was conveyed with characteristic reti- cence, and conceahnent of all deeper feehng, in the self- excusing pretence — " He 's a sensible man, yon ; he kens about leather ! "

The preacher who knew about leather had, however, in conjunction with that cordiahty which won the shoemaker's heart, a solemnity and apostohc demeanour which midit have looked lil^e affectation in another man, and has, indeed, been called affectation even in Irving by those who did not know him ; though never

1)2 APOSTOLIC IJKN'KDUTIOX.

l>v any man wlio did. rrobablv liis loiiij;, silent con- toniplation ol" llial solitary mission which he liad set liii? lieart on, had made him IVanir his wry maimer and address accordin^ii to apostolic rule. When lie entered those sombre apartments in theGallowgate, it was with the salutation "Peace be to this house," with which lie might have entered a Persian palace or desert tent. " Itwai? very peculiar; a thing that nobody else did," says a simple-mindi'd member of Dr. Chalmers's agency : " it was im})ossible not to remark it, out of" the way as it was ; but there was not one of tlie agency could make an objection to it. It took the ])eople's attention wonderfully." A certain solemn atmosphere entered with that lofty figure, speaking in matchless harmony of voice, its " Peace be to this house." To be prayed for, sometimes edif3angly, soiueLimes tedious])', was not uncommon to the Glasgow poor ; but to be blessed w^as a novelt)^ to thorn. Perhajis if the idea had Ijeen pursued into the depths of their minds, these Presbyterians, all retaining sometliing of ecclesi- astical knowledge, however little religion they might liave, would have been disposed to deny the right of any man to assume that priestly })ower of blessing. Ining, however, did not enter into any discussion of the subject. It was liis habitual ])ractice ; and tlie agency, puzzled and a little awed, " could not make an objection to it." He did still more than this. He laid his hands upon the heads of the children, and pronounced, with imposing solemnit)% tlie ancient benediction, "The Lord bless thee and keep thee," over each of them — a praf;tice startling to Scotch ears, but acquiesced in involuntarily as natural to the man who, all solitaiy

LNTERCOUESE WITH THE POOE. 113

and individual in picturesque homely grandeur, went to and fro among them. So grave a preface did not detract from the entire heartiness with which he entered into the concerns of the household ; an intercourse which he himself describes with touching simphcity in his farewell sermon addressed to the people of St. John's. It is impossible to give any account of this part of his work half so true or so affecting as is conveyed thus, in his own words : —

" Oh, how my heart rejoices to'recur to the hours I have sitten under the roofs of the people, and been made a par- taker of their confidence, and a witness of the hardships they had to endure. In the scantiest and perhaps worst times with which this manufacturing city hath ever been pressed, it was my almost daily habit to make a round of their families, and uphold, what in me lay, the declining cause of God. There have I sitten with little silver or gold of my own to bestow, with little command over the charity of others, and heard the various narratives of hardship — narratives uttered for the most part with modesty and patience ; oftener drawn forth with difficulty than obtruded on your ear ; — their wants, their misfortunes, their ill-requited labour, their hopes vanishing, their families dispersing in search of better habitations, the Scottish economy of their homes giving way before encroach- ing necessity ; debt rather than saving their condition ; bread and water their scanty fare ; hard and ungrateful labour the portion of their house. All this have I often seen and listened to within naked walls ; the witness, oft the partaker, of their miserable cheer ; with little or no means to relieve. Yet be it known, to the glory of Grod and the credit of the poor, and the encouragement of tender-hearted Christians, that such application to the heart's ailments is there in our religion, and such a hold in its promises, and such a pith of endurance in its noble examples, that when set forth by one inexperienced tongue, with soft words and kindly tones, they did never fail to drain the heart of the sourness that calamity engenders,

YOL, I. I

114 A LEGACY

and sweoton it with the hnhu of rosiLrrmtion — often cnlarm' it with rhoorful hope, son u'tinn's swell it high with Ihr rejoicings of a Christian triiiinjili."

A more aflectin<x picture of tlic i)Osition of the Cliris- tinii vi>it()r, " witli little or no iiunns to relieve," except by sympathy, and testimony to tiie eonbolatory uses of the gospel, was never made. There does not exist human misery inider the sun Avliich would not be cheered and softened by such ministrations. lie who was " often the partaker of their miserable cheer," who blessed the poor meal and blessed the house, and linked himself to the sufferers by such half-sacramental breaking of the bread of sorrow, could never fail to find his way into their hearts. lie was not always, however, with- out silver or gold of his own to bestow. A Uttle legacy was left him just at the time he describes, a legacy of some sum between thirty and a hundred pounds, — for tradition has come to be doubtful as to the amount. Such a httle windfall one might suppose would have been very acceptable to Dr. Chalmers's helper ; and so it was ; but after a fashion entirely his own. Irving melted his legacy mto the one-pound notes ciu'rent in Scotland, deposited them in his desk, and every morning, as long as they lasted, put one in his pocket when he went out to his visitations. The legacy lasted just as many days as it was pounds in value, and doubt- less produced as much pleasure to its owner as ever was purchased by money. Wliat Dr. Chalmers said to this barefaced alms-giving, in the very midst of his social economy, I cannot tell. As to its destination nobody but Irving was any the ^viser. It melted into gleams of comfort, transitory but precious ; and he who shared

THE HELP OF A BROTHER. Ho

the hard and scanty bread on the poor man's table, could share the better meal when it was in his power to bestow it. This was Irving's idea of his office and fmictions among the poor. He had learned it theo- retically from no other teacher than liis own heart. Eiit he had learned the practice of it, which so many fain would acquire without knowing how, in those primitive journeys of his, where his lodgings were found in the cot-house and cabin ; and it was his pleasure to make himself as acceptable a guest as if the potato or porridge had been festive dainties, and his entertamers lords and princes. Such a gift of brotherhood, how- ever, is as rare as any gift of genius. Irving was unique in it among his contemporaries ; and has had but few equals in any time.

Matters, however, had not changed much up to this period in respect to his preaching. Friends who accompanied him to church when it was his turn to conduct the services, tell, as a very common incident, that the preacher going in was met by groups coming out with disappointed looks, complaining, as the reason of their departure, that "it's no himseV the day." Nothing better was to be looked for when himseV was such a man as Chalmers ; and if his assistant felt at all sore on the subject, his mortification must have been much allayed by the umivaUed gifts of his great colleague. There is, however, no sign of soreness or mortijB.cation in him. A brilhant vision of what he yet might attain had flickered before his eyes all through his probation, as is apparent by many tokens, but he never disguised from himself his failure in popularity. He >miled to his companions, not without an appreciation of

I 2

\\C, " ITS NO IlIMSEL.

the joke, wlien the good people eanic out of the clnircli iloor because it was "uo hinisel'." lie did not forget wliat lie had said, tliat if tliis ])eople bore with liiui, tliej?^ were tlie fii-st who ever would ; nor did he hesitate to icpcnl that '* this coimreLiratiou is almost the hrst in which our j)reaehing was tolerated," and even that still, " we know, on the other hand, that our inijicrfections have not been liid from your eyes." Yet this unpopularity, admitted with frankness so unusual, and perhaps excessive, was by no means universal. Within the gi'eat assembly who ve- nerated Dr. Chalmers was a smaller circle Avho looked upon In'ing ^\^th all the enthusiastic admiration natu- rally given to a man whose merits the admirer himself has been the first to find out. " Irving's preaching," said Dr. Chalmers, evidently not w^th any very great ad- miration of it, " is like Italian music, appreciated only l)y connoisseurs." But he does not hesitate to compare the influence of his assistant, on another and more cor- dial occasion, to a special magnetic spell, which went to the very hearts of those susceptible to it, though it fell blank upon the unimpressionable multitude. Oii the whole. Dr. Chalmers's opinion of him is the opinion of one who only half understands, and docs not more than half sympathise with, a character much less broad, but in some respects more elevated than his own, A certain impatience flashes into the judgment. The statesman and philosopher w^atchcs the poet-enthusiast with a doubtful, troubled, half-amused, half-sad per- plexity ; — likes him, yet does not know what he would be at ; is embarrassed by his warm love, praise, and gratitude; — vexed to see him commit himself; — im- patient of what he himself thinks credulity, vanity.

TWO PRESBYTEKS. 117

waste of power ; but never without a sober, regretful affection for tlie bright, unsteady light that could not be persuaded to shine only in its proper lantern. This sort of admiiing, indulgent, affectionate half-compre- hension is apparent throughout the whole intercourse of these two great men. That Chalmers was the greater intellect of the two I do not attempt to question ; nor yet that he was in all practical matters the more eminent and serviceable man ; but that Irving had instinctive comprehensions and graces, which went high over the head of his great contemporary, seems to me as evident as the other conclusion.

A light quite peculiar and characteristic falls upon Glasgow by means of these two figures, — Chalmers, with a certain sweep and wind of action always about him, rushing on impetuous, at the height of his influ- ence, legislating for his parish in bold independence, perhaps the only real Autocrat of his day; — Irving, almost loitering about the unlovely streets, open to all the individual interests thereabouts ; learned in the names, the stories, the pecuharities of his three hundi'ed families; stiU secondary, dependent, dallying with dreams of a time when he should be neither, of a Utopia all his own ; not influential at all as yet, only remarkable ; noted on the streets, noted in the houses he frequented, an out-of-the-way, incomprehensible man, whose future fortune it was not safe to foretell. In the anecdotes told of him he often looms forth with a certain simple elevation, which is unmoved by ordinary restraints and motives ; and always leaves some recol- lection of his imposing presence upon the memories of all whom he encounters. Amid aU the luxuries of

lis Tin: riiDLAR.

rich, lavisli Glas<xow, lie still set f(irlli nfoot in liis times of relaxation, in i)riniitive hardness, earrying his own belongings on his shoulder, or helped the weak on his way without a uiouient's consideration oi" the pro- priety of the matter. Thus, on one occasion he is re- ported to have been on his way to some Presbytery meeting in the country — probably some ordination or settlement which attracted his interest, though not a member of the court. The ministers of the Presbytery were to be conveyed in carriages to the scene of action, but Irving, who was only a spectator and supernumerary, set off on foot, according to his usual custom. The " brethren" in their carriages came up to him on the way — came up at least to a tall, remarkable figure, which would have been undeniably that of Dr. Chal- mers's helper, but that it bore a pedlar's pack upon its stalwart shoulders, and was accompanied side by side by the fatigued proprietor of the same. To the laughter and jokes which liailed him, however, Irving presented a rather affronted, indignant aspect. He could see no occasion for either laughter or remark. The pedlar was a poor Irislmian worn out with his burden. " His countrymen were kind to me," said tlie offended proba- tioner, recalling those days when, sick at heart, he plunged among the Ulster cabins, and got some comfort out of his wanderings. He earned the pack steadily till its poor owner was rested and ready to resume it, and thought it only natural. On another occasion he had gone down to visit his old friend, Mr. Story, o(" Eosneath, in that beautiful little peninsula ; and in the sweet gloaming of a summer night stood on the narrow tongue of laud called Eow Point, and shouted across

" A MAN ON HORSE." 119

the tiny strait for a boat. As lie stood with his port- manteau on his shoulder, among the twihght shadows, he heard an answer over the water, and presently saw the boat gUding across the loch ; but when it had reached half way, to Irving's amazement and impatience, it turned back : some commotion arose on the opposite side, hghts flickered about the bank, and only after a considerable interval and many impatient shouts, the oars began again to dip into the water, and the boat approached heavily. Wlien Irving demanded why he had turned back, and had kept him so long waiting, the boatman, ghding up to the beach, looked discomfited and incredulous at his passenger. " I thought you were a man on horse ! " cried the startled ferryman, looking up bewildered at the gigantic figure and portmanteau, which distance and darkness had shaped into a centaur. He had gone back to fetch the horse-boat, which in all its cumbrous convenience was now thrust up upon the shingle. Irving did not appreciate the consideration. It even appears that he lost his temper on the occasion, and did not see the joke when the story was told.

In one of those walkmg excursions he penetrated into the depths of Ayrshire, and reached at nightfall the house of the Howies of Lochgoin, — a name which recalls all the covenanting traditions of that wild dis trict. The family were at prayers — or "worship," as it is usual to call it in Scotland — and one of its mem- bers remembers the siurprising apparition of the tall stranger in the spence, or outer room, when they all rose from their knees, as having had a rather alarming effect upon the family, whose devotions he had joined unheard, and to whose house he bade his usual " Peace,"

I 4

liO TlIK llOWIKS.

Tlioujjjli tlioy were entirely strangers to him, Irving not only made friends, Init established lo his own satisfaetion a link of relationship, by means (•!" llie Waldensian IIo^\'ys, from whom he himself boasted descent. The original family of refugees, according to his own account, had spht into two branches, one of wliich wandered to Ayrshire, while ' one settled in Annan. The hnk thus accidentally found was wai-mly remem- bered, and the Orations^ published when Irving was at his height of early glory, and one of the most largely read and brilliantly criticised of modei'n works, found its way by the hand of the first traveller he could hear of, from that world of London which turned his head, as people imagine, dow^n to the moorland sohtudes of Lochgoin.

The year after his ariival in Glasgow he made an- other visit to L'eland, which was attended by one amusing result, upon which Jiis friends often ralhed him. He had made an appointment with a young Glasgow friend to meet him at Annan, in his father's house, with the idea of guiding the stranger through those moors and mosses of Dumfriesshire which were so dear and well known to himself. But wliile his friend kept the appointment carefully, Irving, seduced by the pleasures of his ramble, or induced, as appears from a letter, to lengthen it out by a little incursion into England from Liverpool, forgot all about it. Tlie accommodations of Gavin Irvdng's hoase at Annan were limited ; and though there was no limit to Mrs. Irving's motherly hospitality, it was not easy to entertain the unknown guest. The youngest of the liandsome sisters had to exert herself in tliis emergency. She showed the young

HOLIDAY ADVENTUEES. 121

stranger tlie way to the waterside and all tlie modest beauties of the httle town. The young man did not miss his friend, nor was any way impatient for Edward's arrival ; and when the truant did come, at the end of a fortnight, he was called upon to greet the stranger, whom he had himself sent to Annan, as his sister's affianced husband, — an astonishmg but very happy conclusion, as it turned out, to his own carelessness.

At another holiday time Irving accompanied a mem- ber of his congregation in some half-pleasure, half- business excursion in a gig. During this jomrney the pair were about to drive down a steep descent, when Irving, whose skiH as a driver was not great, managed to secure the reins, and accomplished the descent at so amazing a pace that several of a httle party of soldiers, who were crossing a bridge at the foot of the hill, were driven into the stream by the vehemence of the unex- pected charge. Some little distance further on, the gig and the travellers paused at a roadside inn, into the pubhc room of which entered, after a while, several of these soldiers. Two of them regarded with whispered conferences the driver of the gig ; and when an oppor- tunity of conversation offered, one of the two addressed Irving. " This man," said the skilful Scotch conversa- tionahst,. " thinks he's the wisest man in a' the regiment. What do ye thmk, sir ? He says you're the great Dr. Chalmers." " And do you reaUy think," asked Irving, with an appeal - to the candour of this inquiring mind, " that I look hke a minister ? " " My certy, no ! " cried the simple-minded warrior ; " or you wouldna drive like *(j(m ! "

Such comic hghts, often dwelt upon and much ap-

]-2'2 SIMPLICITY OF IIKAUT.

preciatod by liis friciuls, j^lnyed about tliis unusual figure, necessary accompaniments of its singular aspect. To his intimates he opened his heart so freely, and cxhil)ited all his peculiarities after so transparent a faijihion, that those points of his character which miglit have appeared defects to the eyes of strangers, were dear to those who loved him, origmating as they did in his owm perfect affectionateness and sincerity. "He was vain, there is no denpng it," writes a dear friend of his ; " but it was a vanity proceeding out of what was best and most lovable in him, — his childlike sim- plicity and desire to be loved ; — his crystal trans- parency of character letting every httle weakness show through it as frankly as his noblest quaUties ; and, above all, out of his loyal, his divine trust in the absolute tmth and sincerity, and the generous sympathy and good-will of all who made fiiendly advances towards him." But his aspect to the general mass, who saw him only " in society," or in the pulpit, was of a different kind. The solemnity of his appearance and manners impressed that outside audience. He spoke in lan- guage " such as grave livers do in Scotland use," with a natural pomp of diction at all times ; and took a cer- tain priestly attitude which is not usual in Scotland, — the attitude of a man who stands between God and his fellows. A story, for which I will not vouch, is told of one such remarkable appearance which he made at a Glasgow dmner-party. A young man was present who had permitted himself to talk profanely, in a manner now unknown, and which would not be tolerated in any party now-a-days. After expending all his littl(? wit upon Priestcraft and its inventions, this youth,

SOLEMNITY OF DEPOETMENT. 123

getting bold by degrees, at last attacked Irving — who had hitherto taken no notice of him — directly, as one of the world-deluding order. Irving heard him out in silence, and then turned to the other Hsteners. " My friends," he said, " I will make no reply to tliis imhappy youth, who hath attacked the Lord in the person of his servant ; but let us pray that this his sin may not be laid to his charge ; " and with a solemn motion of his hand, which the awe-struck diners-out insthictively obeyed, Irving rose up to his full majestic height, and solemnly commended the offender to the forgiveness of God. Wliether this incident reaUy occurred I cannot teU ; but it is one of the anecdotes told of him, and it certainly embodies the most popular conception of his demeanour and bearing.

The labours of all engaged in that parish were un- ceasing; and in addition to the two services on each Sunday, which were Irving's share of the work, and the perpetual round of parochial visits and occasional services, he was " always ready," — as says Mr. David Stowe, the educational reformer of Glasgow, whose life- long work was then commencing in a great system of Sunday schools, — to lend his aid wherever it was re- quired. When the Sunday scholars were slow to be drawn out, or the district unpromising, or a more distinct impulse necessary than could be given by mere visits and mvitations, Irving did not hesitate to go down with the anxious teacher to his "proportion," and with his Bible in his hand, take his station against the wall, and address the slowly gathering assembly all unused to out-of-door addresses, a species of minis- trations which were at the period considered rather

1J4 CONVICTS IN tiLASCJOW .lAll,.

iKMicatli the (liLTuilv (>f niinistors of tlie Clnircli. lr\iii<x liad also tlu' c-liariro of visiting tlio (.'onvicts in ])rison ; and is said to liavo done so on some occasions witli great cflect. One of tliose unliappy persons liad been condemned for a murder, though strenuously denying his guilt. After his conviction, tlie unhn])py mnti suc- ceeded in interesting his visitor by his assertions of iimoccnce; and when Irving left tlie prison, it was to ])lunge into the dens of the Gallowgate, taking wilh him as assistants a private friend of his own, and a member of Dr. Chalmers's agency — to make a last anxious effort to discover whether any excul[)atory evidence was to be found. The survivhig member of tliat generous i)arly remembers how they searched through the foul recesses of the Glasgow St. Giles's : and went to all the haunts of their wretched client, a charitable, forlorn hope. But the matter, it turned out, was hopeless ; what they heard confirmed, instead of shaking, the justice of tlie conviction, and the bootless investigation was given up.

But the kind of work in which he was thus enfTajred was not the great work in which his fame was to be gained, or his use in his generation manifested. In all that is told of him he appears in the shade — only sup- plementing the works of another ; and it is amusing to observe, even at tliis long distance of time, that the ancient office-bearers of St. John's, once Dr. Chalmers's prime ministers in the government of that, his king- dom, can scarcely yet forbear a certain patronising regard towards Dr. Chalmers's lielper. They all went to hear liim, hke virtuous men, who set a good ex- ample to the flock, and tolerated the inexperience of

IRVIXG TATKOXIZED BY THE OFFICE-BEARERS. 125

the strange probationer ; and sat out, with a certain self-complacence, those sermons which were to stir to its depths a wider world than that of Glasgow. One here and there even detected a suspicion of un- soundness in the vehement addresses of the young preacher ; and I have been told of a most singular, unorthodox sentiment of his — unorthodox, but at exact antipodes from later sentiments equally unlawful — which one zealous hearer noted down in those old days, and submitted to Dr. Chalmers as a mat- ter which should be noticed. Wise Chalmers only smiled, and shook his head. He himself had but an imperfect understanding of his assistant ; but he was not to be persuaded by the evidence of one stray sen- tence that his brother had gone astray.

Thus Irving lived, in the shade. Some of those friends to whom he attached himself so fervently, young men like himself, not yet settled down into the proprieties of hfe, supported his claims to a higher appreciation with vehement partisanship, which proceeded as much from love to the man as from admiration of his genius. Here and there an eager boy, in the ragged red o-own which Glassrow uses for academical costume, recognised, with the intuition of youth, the high elo- quence flashing over those slumbrous heads. But on the whole, the Glasgow congregation sat patronisingly quiet, and hstened, without much remarking what the " helper had to say." As much as the ordinary brain could bear, they had already heard, or were to hear the same day from " the Doctor himsel'." Under such circumstances it was scarcely to be expected that they could do more than listen calmly to the addresses of

1-26 IN* TIIK SIIADK.

the other preacher, ^vllor<e manner, and lookj^, and nu)dc of address were all inidoid)tcdly exceptional, and sub- ject to criticism. Such a strain -would have been impossible to any merely mortal audience ; so the good people drowsed through tlie afternoons, and were kind to 'Mr. Irving ; they were veiy glad to hear tlie Doctor found him so serviceable among his poor ; that the agency made so good a report of him ; and that altoL^ether he was likely to do well. Tliey told tlie current stories of liis gigantic form, and doubtful looks, and odd ways — laughed at liis impetuous mdividuality with kindness, but amusement — and had as little idea of the fame he was to reach, as of any other incompre- hensible event. The profound unconsciousness in which this stranire little community, all dominated and governed by their leader and hLs great project, held lightly the other great intelligence in the midst of them, is as strange a picture of human nature as could be seen. It reminds one of that subtle law of evidence which Sir Walter Scott introduces so dramatically in accounting for the recognition of his hero Bertram, in Gwj Mannering^hj the postilion, who had seen liini A\dthout an idea of recognising him before. " Wliawas thinking o' auld EUangowan then?" says Jock Jabos. Tlie principle holds good in wider questions. The Glasgow people had their eyes fixed upon one man of genius and his great doings. They certainly saw the other man m the shadow of liis chief, and had a perception, by the way, of his stature and peculiarities. But who was thinking of genius or extraordinary en- do\vnTients in Dr. Chalmers's helper ? Their eyes had not been directed to him ; they saw him always in tlic

HIS LOYALTY AND ADMIKATION. 127

shade, carrying out another man's ideas, and dominated by another man's superior influence ; and this most natural and prevaihng principle of human thought kept Irving obscure and unrevealed to their eyes.

The same influence gradually wrought upon himself. It is apparent that there was much in his Glasgow life which he enjoyed, and which suited him; and no more loyal expression of regard for a master and leader was ever written than the dedication afterwards ad- dressed to Dr. Chahners, in which he thanks God for " that dispensation which brought me acquainted with your good and tender-hearted nature, whose splendid accompUshments I knew already ; and you now hve in the memory of my heart more than in my admiration. Wliile I laboured as yoiu: assistant, my labours were never weary ; they were never enough to express my thankfulness to God for having associated me w^ith such a man, and my affection to the man with whom I was associated." To the same tenor is the tone of his farewell sermon, the first production which he ever gave to the press, and in which, not without much stren- uous argument for the freedom of mdividual preaching, his favoiurite and oft-repeated theme, he acknowledges " the burden of my obhgations to my God," in respect to his residence in Glasgow. " He has given me," says the preacher, his heart sweUing with all the gratitude and affection wliich kindness always produced m him, and the warm impulse of his nature casting all di'aw- backs behind, " the fellowship of a man mighty in his Church, an approving congregation of his people, the attachment of a populous corner of his vmeyard. I ask no more of heayen for the future but to grant me

us Tin: niJKillT SIDE.

the continiinnro o^ \ho ]inrfi(>n wliirli, by tlie s])iu-c' of throe years, 1 liavc hero onjoyotl. lUit this I need not expect. Never again s^liall T (iiid another man of transcendent genius wlioni I can love as iniu li as I aihnire — into wlio.se liousc I can ujo in and out Hke a sou — wlioni I can revere as a fatlier, and serve with tlie devotion of a cliild — nt'ver shall I find another hundred consociated men of [)iety, and by fire-will consociated, whose every sentiment I can adopt, and ■\vliose cveiy scheme I can find dchght to second. And I feel I shall never find another parish of ten thousand into every house of wOiich I w\as welcomed as a friend, and solicited back as a brother."

This was one side of the picture : sincerely felt and fully expressed, without any restraint from the thought that on the other side he had expressed, and yet should express as fully, his weariness, his longings for a scene of action entirely his own ; liis almost disgust with a subordination which had now exceeded the natural period of probation. It w-as no pnit of Irving's temper to acknowledge any such restramt. Wliat he said in the fidlest, grateful sincerity, he did not stumble and choke over because he was aware of havhig on another occasion expressed, with equal warmth, another phase of feehng, equally sincere, though apparently inconsis- tent. That he should have been content with the posi- tion which he describes in such glowing colours would have been simply unnatural. lie had now attained the age when it becomes necessary for a man to do what Tic has to do in this world for himself, and not for another : he was approaching the completion of his thirtieth year. Nature lierself protested that he could remain no longer

THE DAKK SIDE. 129

dependent and. secondary ; and that it was time to be done with probationary efforts. Hjs thoughts, which had been so long kept silent while his heart burned, and so long indifferently listened to by a pre-occupied audience, must have full course. His energy must have scope in an independent field. To stand aside longer, with all his conscious powers burning within him, was gradually becoming impossible to Irving. At the very moment when he recognised with generous enthusiasm the advantages of his position, he felt its limits and con- finements like a chain of iron round his neck. The bondage, though these were the most desirable of bonds, was gradually growing intolerable. He was a man fully equipped and prepared, aware of a longer pro- bation, a sterner prelude, a harder training than most men. We will not venture to say that the natural sweetness of his heart could have been embittered even by the continuance of this unencouraging labour ; but, at all events, nature took alarm, and felt herself in danger. He received an invitation to go tq^ Kingston, in Jamaica, to a Presbyterian congregation there, and is said to have taken it into serious consideration, and only to have been deterred fi'om accepting it by the opposition of his friends. White men or black men, what did it matter, so long as he could build, not upon another man's foundation, but do his own work as God has ordained to every man? And failing that, his ancient missionary thoughts returned to his mind ; I can- not help thinking that there is something wonderfully pathetic and touching in this project, which he carried so far upon the way of life with him, and to which up to this moment he always recurred when his path VOL. I. K

ISO MISSIONARY rUOJlXTS KRN'KWEl).

btvaine dark or iiiii)raoticahlo. I could I'aiuT it a siii,^- ge>li()iu)f" lioawii to liini asidi' liis feet, ^vllik• il wasyet ]>ossihle, fioin lliat fiery ordeal and ])aspage of agony throiiLdi whieh his eoiirse lav. The same thoughts, whicli once filled his chamber in Uristo Street, came back in the winter of 1821, when, after two years' labour in Glasfjow. he saw himself no further advanced in his independent waj" than when, full of ho]:)es, he had come there to open his mouth in his Master's service. Dr. Chalmers could get many assistants, but Edward Irving could get but one life, and was this all it was destined to come to ? Auain he saw himself goino; forth for-

C DO

lorn, giving up all things for his Lord ; carrying the gospel afar, over distant mountains, distant plains, into the fixr Eastern wastes. It was an enterprise to make the heart beat and swell, but it was death to all human hopes. \Vlien he grasped that cross the roses and lau- rels would fade out of his expectation for ever. Love and fame must both be left behind. It was in him to leave thenj l^ehind had the visible moment arrived, and the guidance of Providence appeared. But he under- stood while he pondered what was the extent of the sacrifice.

Just at this moment the clouds opened — he has described it so well in 'his ovm words that it would be worse than vanity to use any other : —

" The Caledonian Church had been placed under the pas- toral care of two worthy ministers, who were Buccessively called to parochial charges in the Church of Scotland ; and by their removal, and for want of a stated ministry, it was re- duced to great and almost hopeless straits. Jjiit faith hopeth against hope, and when it does so, never faileth to be re- warded. This was proved in the case of those two men whose

THE CALEDONIAN CHAPEL, HATTON GARDEN. 131

names I have singled out from your number, to give them that honour to which they are entitled in the face of the con- gregation. Having heard through a friend of theirs, and now also of mine, but at that time unknown to me, of my unworthy labours in Glasgow, as assistant to the Rev. Dr. Chalmers, they commissioned him to speak to me concerning their vacant church, and not to hide from me its present distress.

" Well do I remember the morning when, as I sat in my lonely apartment, meditating the uncertainties of a preacher's calling, and revolving in my mind purposes of missionary work, this stranger stepped in upon my musing, and opened to me the commission with which he had been charged. The answer which I made to him, with which also I opened my correspondence with the brethren, whose names are men- tioned above, was to this effect : ' If the times permitted, and your necessities required that I should not only preach the gospel without being bm'densome to you, but also by the labour of my hands minister to your wants, this would I esteem a more honourable degree than to be Archbishop of Canterbury.' And such as the beginning was, was also the continuance and ending of this negotiation. . . . Being in such a spirit towards one another, the preliminaries were soon arranged — indeed I may say needed no arrangement — and I came up on the day before the Christmas of 1821, to make trial and proof of my gifts before the remnant of the congre- gation which still held together." *

Ere, however, going to London, lie seems to have made a brief visit to Edinburgh, where he obtained from the Eev. Dr. Fleming, one of the most highly esteemed Evangelical ministers there, a letter of in- troduction to Dr. Waugh, of London, which I have

* Dedication of the Last Days to W. Dinwiddie, Esq., Father of the Session of the National Scotch Chiu-ch ; W. Hamilton, Esq., Secretary of the Committee for building the National Scotch Chui'ch ; and to the other members of the Session and Committee.

K 2

\:V2 LKTTHi: (M' UITOMMFA'DATIOX.

found anions otlior papers relating to liis remcnal lo London. These credentials were as follows : —

" Edinburgh, 13th December, 1821.

" Dear Sir, — Allow me to introduce to you ]\Ir. Eihvard Irving, preacher of the gospel, who goes to TiOndon on invi- tation to pnach in the Caledonian Chapel, with the view of being called to take the psxstoral charge of the congregation assemljjiug in that place. I need not tell you what you will at once perceive, that he is a large raw-boned Scotchman, and that his outward appearance is rather uncouth ; but I can tell you that his mind is, in proportion, as large as his body ; and that whatever is unprepossessing in his appearance \vill vanish as soon as he is known ; his mind is, 1 had almost said, gigantic. There is scarcely a branch of human science which he does not grasp, and in some degree make his own. As a scholar, and as a man of science, he is eminently distin- guished. His great talents he has applied successfully to the acquisition of professional knowledge, and both his talents and acquisitions he is, I believe, sincerely resolved to conse- crate to the service of his ^eat Master. His views of Scrip- ture truth, while they are comprehensive, are, in my judg- ment, sound. His exhibition of them, indeed, I thought at one time exceptionable, as too refined and abstract for ordi- nary hearers ; but that was when he contemplated the duties of a preacher as a spectator, being ordinarily occupied mth other important avocations. For some time past, however, be has been actively employed in the vineyard, in the charac- ter of assistant to Dr. Chalmers, of Glasgow, and it is no small commendation that the Doctor is in the highest degree pleasefl with him and attracted to him. His connection with the Doctor has probably accelerated what experience would have in time produced in a man of his mind and principles : it has brought him down to the level of plain, sound preach- ing. This effect has been still further promoted in the exercise of a duty which he has had to perform, visiting the families of the parish, .and conversing \vith them about their spirittial interests. This was a duty in which he engaged with great zeal ; and he hi considered as possessing a particu-

FAVOURABLE PROGNOSTICATIONS. 133

lar faculty for performing it. A.s a man, he is honourable, liberal, independent in his mind, fearless in the discharge of his duties, and exemplary in his general deportment. In short, taking into view his whole character and qualifications, his talents, his acquirements, his principles, his zeal, and his capacity of exertion, I know nobody who seerns better fitted for discharging the duties of a gospel minister in the metro- polis, faithfully, usefully, and respectably, than Mr. Irving. ... If you can be of any service to Mr. Irving, either with the managers of the chapel, or in the event of his remaining in London, by introducing him to any of your friends in the ministry, I shall esteem it a favour. . . . Mr. Irving has come upon me unexpectedly, and I have barely time to add that I am, with great regard, dear sir, yours faithfully,

"Thomas FLEMma."

The kind elaboration of this old-fashioned recom- mendatory letter, written in days when people thought it worth while to fiU their paper, secured Irvini^; a friend ; and many of its carefidly detailed particulars are sadly amusing in the hght of all the after-revelations; as, indeed, the calm unconsciousness with which an ordinary man holds up his light to show forth the figure of an Immortal has always a certain ludicrous- pathetic element in it. Armed with this, and doubtless "with various others which have not escaped obhvion, the " large raw-boned Scotchman " set out for London, with unconcealed and honest eagerness. Wliat he wanted was not a benefice, or even an income, for hopeless enough in that way were the prospects of the httle fainting Scotch Church, buried amid the crowded lanes about Holborn, which successive vacancies and discouragements had reduced to the very lowest point at which it could venture to caU itself a congregation. If it had been practicable — if, as Irving himself says,

\M lUVIXc'j* nKSIRK TO no TO LONDON'.

*' the limes had porniittccl," ilit^ro cniiiiol !»• tlir shghU-st doubt tliat tlie vohemout youn^i; man would liavo been content to ccMiinin any apostolie liaiidieraiV Avilh his spiritual ollice ratlier than resign that longed-for i)ulj)it, in whieh lie eould say forth unchecked the message that wiis in him ; and he does not attempt with any affected coyness to conceal his own eager tlesire for this, (he first independent standing-ground which was ever placed fairly in his power. From the moment that he heard of it, tlie idea seems to have taken full ])ossession (»f him. Nowhere else could lie do such good service to his Master's cause. Nowhere could the human am- bition which possessed him find readier satisfaction. Nowhere else was the utterance Avith wliich he was overbrimming so deeply needed. lie seems to have felt with magical suddenness and certidnty that here was liis sphere.

His own appreciatit)n of his welcome in London, and the hopes excited in his mind by this new development of afhairs, may be learnt from the following letter, ad- dressed to his much regarded ])upil and friend Miss Welsh.

"Glasgow, 34 Kent Street, 9th February, 1822.

" My dear and lovely Pupil, — Wlien I am my own master, delivered from the necessity of attending to engagements, ever soliciting me npon the spot where I am, and exhausting me to very lassitude before the evening, when my friendly correspondence should commence, then, and not till then, shall I be able, I fear, to discharge my heart of the oltligations which it feels to those at a distance. Do excuse me, I pray you, by the memory of our old acquaintance, and an3;i:hing else which it is pleasant to remember, for my neglect to you in London, and not to you alone, I am sorry to say, but to every one whom I was not officially bound to write to, even ray

HIS PLEASURE IN HIS RECEPTION THERE. 135

worthy father. Forget and forgive it ; and let us be esta- blished in our former correspondence as if no such sin against it had ever taken place. I could say some things on my own behalf; but till you go to London, which I hope will not be till I am there to be a brother to you, you could not at all sympathise with them.

"And know now, though late, that my head is almost turned with the approbation I received — certainly my head is turned ; for from being a poor desolate creature, melancholy of suc- cess, yet steel against misfortune, I have become all at once full of hope and activity. My hours of study have doubled themselves — my intellect, long unused to expand itself, is now awakening again, and truth is revealing itself to my mind. And perhaps the dreams and longings of my fair corre- spondent* may yet be realised. I have been solicited to publish a discourse which I delivered before his Eoyal High- ness the Duke of York ; but have refused till my appre- hensions of truth be larger, and my treatment of it more accordinof to the models of modern and ancient times. The thanks of all the directors I have received formally — the gift of all the congregation of the Bible used by his Eoyal High- ness. The elders paid my expenses in a most princely style. My countrymen of the first celebrity, especially in art, welcomed me to their society, and the first artist in the city drew a most admirable half-length miniature of me inaction. And so, you see, I have reason to be vain.

" But these things, my dear Jane, delight me not, save as vouchsafements of my Maker's bounty, the greater because the more undeserved. Were I established in the love and obedience of Him, I should rise toweringly aloft into the re- gions of a very noble and sublime character, and so would my highly-gifted pupil, to retain whose friendship shall be a consolation to my life: to have her fellowship in divine am- bitions would make her my dear companion through eternity.

" To your affectionate mother, whose indulgence gives me this pleasant communication with her daughter, I have to ex- press my attachment in every letter. May you live worthy

* He refers to his young friend's affectionate prophecies of ]iis future fame.

1;>G OBSTACLES.

of each otlier, mutual stays through life, douhly endeared, becjuise alone together; and therefore douhly dutiful to Him who is the husband of the widow, and the Father of the fatherless. I have sent this under cover to my friend T. C, not knowing well where you are at present. If in Edinburgh, ofter my beuodictious upon your uncle's new alliance. I hope to be in Edinburgh soon, where I will not be without seeing you. " I am, my dear pupil,

" Your affectionate friend,

" Edward Irving."

" Wlierewith " (namely, with tlie trial of his gifts) "being satisfied," he continues, in the dedication already quoted, " I took my jouniey homewards, waiting the good pleasm-e of the great Head of the Clinrch. Many were the difficulties and obstacles which Jiataii tlirew in the way, and which threatened hard to defeat al- together our desire and our purpose of being united in one. Amongst others, one, which would have deterred many men, was my inabihty to preach in the Gaelic tonuue, of which I knew not a word." This absurd stipulation originated in the connection of the Caledonian Chapel with the Caledonian Asy- lum, the directors of wliich are those whom he records as having thanked him furmally — an insti- tution originally intended for the orphan children of soldiers and sailors, and of whose officebearers the Duke of York, the Commander-in-Chief, was president. This institution is still in existence, and until the dis- ruption of the Church of Scotland, still sent its detach- ments of children into the galleries of the National Scotch Church, built to replace the httle Caledonian Cliapel. But at that period it was its connection with the great charity which alone gave the little chapel

THE CALEDONIAN ASYLUM. 137

importance. Other Scotch Churches, more floiirishmg and prosperous, were m existence; but the chapel in Hatton Garden had a trifling parhamentary allowance, in direct consideration of its connection with the Asylum, and the minister's powers of preaching Gaelic. This initial difficulty called forth from Irving the foUowing characteristic letter : —

"To my honoured friends, Mr. Dinwiddie, Mr. Simpson, Mr. Eobertson, Mr. HamiHon, and others connected with the Caledonian Chapel, to whom I have the pleasure of being known, and who take an interest in my coming to London.

" GrENTLEMEN, — My friend Mr. Laurie has called to report to me the result of the last meeting of Directors of the Asylum ; and as Mr. Hamilton requested him to make it known to me, I feel myself called upon to do my endeavour to make you comfortable under, and also if possible to extricate you from, the embarrassment in which you may feel yourselves.

" First. Let my interest be as nothing. The Lord will pro- vide for me ; and since I left you His providence has presented me with the offer of a chapel of ease in Dundee, with the probable reversion of the first vacant living in the place. This, of course, I refused. The people of New York are inquiring for me to succeed the great Dr. Mason — at least are writino' letters to that effect. This I do not think will come to any head, because I am not worthy of the honour. But I mention both to show you in what good hands my fortune is, when it is left to Grod alone.

" Secondly. But if, for the interests of yom- own souls, and religion in general, and the Scotch Church in particular, you do still desire my services among you, then I am ready at any call, and almost on any conditions, for my own spirit is bent to preach the Gospel in London.

"Thirdly. If the gentlemen of the Asylum would not mistake for importunity and seeking of a place, what I offer from a desire to mediate peace, and benefit the best interests of my

138 TLKDCiKS IllMSKLF TO LliARX GAELIC.

countryinm, 1 ]il(ilu^<' myself to study fiat-lic : .nid if T cuniiot write it and preach it iu six in«»iiths, I j^ive tliciii my missive to be burdensome to them no lon<^er. There was a time when the consciousness of my own powers wouhl liave made it seem as meanness so to condescend: but now the Knvness of con- descension for Christ's sake I feel to be the heij^ht of honour.

" Fourthly. But if not, and you are meditating, as Mr. Hamilton says, to obtain another phice of worship to which to call me, then be assured I shall not be difticult to persuade to come amongst you; and I shall not distress your means; but content with little, minister, in humble dependence upon God, the free grace of the Gospel.

" Finally, gentlemen, should I never see your faces any more, ray heart is towards you, and my prayers are for you, and the blessing of the Lord God shall be upon us all if we seek his face ; and we shall dwell together in that New Jerusalem where there is no temple and no need of any pastors ; but the Lamb doth lead them and feed them by rivers of living waters, and wipes away all tears from their eyes.

" Commend me to your families in love and brotherhood, and do ye all regard me as

" Your obliged and affectionate friend,

" EuwAKD Irving.

"Glasgow, 21st Februaiy, 1822."

The Directors of tlie Caledonian Asj^lum were not, however, " .so far left to themselves," as we say in Scot- land, as to in.'^ist upon the six months of Gaehc study thus heroically volunteered. The Duke of York ex- erted his influence to set aside the stipulation ; and after it had answered its purpose in stimulating the waimth of both parties, and adding a httle more su.spense and uncertainty to Irving's long probation, the difficulty was overcome. Or rather, to use his o^\^l words, " God, having proved our willingness, was pleased to remove this obstacle out of the way." Upon this another difficulty arose. It is a rule of the Church

BOND REQUIRED BY THE PRESBYTERY. 139

of Scotland not to ordain any minister over a congre- gation until they are first certified tliat the people are able and prepared to provide him with a fit income — " to give him a Uvelihood," as Irving says simply. This is usually done in the form of a bond, submitted to the Presbytery before the ordination, by which the stipend is fixed at a certam rate, which the officebearers pledge themselves to maintain. This was a difficult point for the poor httle handful at Hatton Garden, who had only been able to keep themselves together by great exer- tions, and to whom only the valuable but scanty nucleus of fifty adherents belonged. The Presbytery in conse- quence demurred to the ordination ; and once more the matter came to a temporary standstill. The following' letter, addressed to Mr. Wilham Hamilton, one of the principal members of the Caledonian Chapel, will show how Irvinsf re2;arded this new obstruction: —

" My DEAR Sir, — Though I received so many and so kind attentions ft-oni you in London, the great diversity of my occupations, and my frequent visits of late to different parts of the country, in the prospect of removal, have hindered me from ever presenting my acknowledgments, not the less felt be assm-ed, on that account. The confidence and frequency of our intercourse makes me assured, when I come to London, that we shall find in each other steady friends ; a,nd it is de- lightful in the prospect opening up, that I have such friends to come to. The bearer is my brother-in-law, Mr. Warren Carlyle, a young man of most admirable character, both moral and religious. He is in London on business, and will be able to inform you in all my affairs. I am doing my utmost to get the Presbytery to consent to my ordination without a bond, and I hope to succeed. But if they will not, I come in June, ordination or no ordination ; and if they are not content with the security I am content with, then I shall be content to do without their ordination and seek it else-

140 VISITS TO I'AISLKV.

whore, or apply for it after. Hut I aui^nr better ]Mr.

Dinwiddle nmst uot consider lue wan(in<; in affeetiou (hat it is so h>nL,' since I wrote to him personally ; assnri' him and all his family, I pray, of my gralitnde and liii^di regards, which

many years, 1 trnst, will enable me to testify May

all good be with yon, and ni}' other ac(juaintances ; and may I be enabled, when I come among you, to do more than iuliil all your expectations, — till which happy junction may we be preserved in the grace of the Lord.

" Yours most affectionately,

" Edward Irving. " Paisley, 2-4th April, 1822."

To Paisley, from wliich this letter is duted, Irving was in tlie liabit of walking out on Saturday afternoons, to snatch a little domestic relaxation at the tea-table of the familv into which his sister luid married; and liad a liberal habit ul" iii\ itiuu' chance fellow-travellers wliom he encountered by the way to accompany him, occa- sionally to tlie considerable confusion and amazement of his kind hosts. On one of these occasions he intro- duced a stranger of shy and somewhat gruff demeanour, who spoke little, whose name nobody lieard distinctly, and wliom tlie good people set down as some chance pedestrian, a httle out of liis ease in " good society," whom Irving had picked up on the way. They were not undeceived until years after, when a member of the family, then in London, had one of tJie greatest (jf living authors, Thomas Carlyle, reverentially pointed out to her, and recognised, with horror and astonishment, the doubtful stranger whom she had entertained and smiled at in her father's liouse.

The " bond," however, which Irving, generous and impetuous, would have been well content to dispense

REMOVAL OF OBSTACLES. HI

with, but which the prudent Presbytery insisted upon, was at length procured. "Another obstacle to my ordination your readiness," says Irving in the dedi- cation ah-eady quoted, " without any request of mine, removed out of the way. To those brethren who came forward so voluntarily and so liberally on that occasion, the church and the minister of the church are much beholden; and all of us are beholden to God, who useth us, in any way, however humble, for the accom- phshment of his good purposes."

Everything was now settled, and only the necessary ecclesiastical preliminaries remained. The young man was at the highest pitch of hope and anticipation. As he had not concealed his eagerness to go, he did not conceal the high expectations with which he entered the longed-for field. Expressions of his hopes and projects burst forth wherever he went — misconstrued, of course, by many ; received ^vith cold wonder, and treated as boasts and braggadocio ; but understood and beheved by some. And the only evidence of other sentiments which appears in his correspondence — con- tained m a letter to Dr. Martin, evidently written in a moment of depression — still characteristically exliibits the high pitch of his anticipations : — " There are a few things which bind me to the world, and but a very few," writes the young man in this effusion of moment- ary weariness ; " one is to make a demonstration for a higher style of Christianity, something more magnani- mous, more heroical than this age affects. God laiows with what success." These wonderftd prophetic words, written in some moment of revulsion, when the very height of satisfaction and triumph had brought a sud-

142 KOt^NKATII.

don (loptli (^f toniporary (lopivssion to liis sensitive soul, are tlie only visil)k' irarc of lliosf clouds which enn never be wholly banished iVom ihe l)nghlest Urmanienl. During tlie last week of Ins residence in Glasgow, lie went to Eosneath to visit and take farewell of his friend 'Mr. Story, accompanied by another clerical friend, who went with him in wondei- and dread, often inquiring how the farewell sermon, which was to be delivered on Sunday, could come into beinix. This good man perceived witli dismay that Irving was not occupied about his farewa^ll sermon, and declared with friendly vexation that if anything worlliy of a leave- taking with the people of St. John's was produced by the departing preacher under such circumstances, he would prove himself '• tlie cleverest man in Scotland." Imng, however, was not dismayed. He went joyfully over loch and hill in tliat sweet holiday of hope. The world was all before him, and everything was possible, Xo more limits except those of the truth, nor obliteration under another man's shadow. 7VII this time he had been but painfully fitting and ])utthig his arni( mi- together ; now he wa.s already close to the lists, and heard the trumpets of the battle, with laughter like that of the war-horse; a httlc longer and he should be in the field. One day in this hap])y period, when going about the countiy with his friend, Irving, active, as of old, and full of glee and energy, leaped a gate wliich interposed in their way. This feat took the minister of Eosneath a little by surprise, as was natural. " Dear me, Irving," he exclaimed, " I did not think you had been so agile." Irs'ing turned upon him immediately, "Qjice I read y(Ai an essay of mine," said the preacher, " and you said.

HAPPY ANTICIPATIONS. 143

' Dear me, Irving, I did not think you had been so classical ; ' another time you heard me preach, ' Dear me, Irving, I did not know you had so much imagina- tion.' Now you shaU see what great thhigs I will do

yet!"

In this state of exulting expectation, he was not more patient than usual of the ordinary orthodoxy round him. While himself the sincerest son of his mother Church, and loving her very standards with a love which never died out of him, he was always in- tolerant of the common stock of dry theolog}^ and the certified soundness of duQ men. " You are content to go back and forward on the same route, like this boat," he is reported to have said, as the party struck across the swelling waters of the Gair-loch ; " but as for me, I hope yet to go deep into the ocean of truth." Words over-bold and incautious, like most of his words ; yet wonderfully characteristic of the unconcealed ex- altation of mind and hope hi which he was.

So he returned to Glasgow, stiU accompanied by the alarmed and anxious friend, who could get no satisfac- tion about his farewell sermon, — such an occurrence as this solemn leave-taking, to which the httle world looked forward, was an event in the history of the parish. It was an occasion such as preachers generally make the most of, and in which natural sentiment permits them a httle freedom and dehverance from the ordinary restraints of -the pulpit. And it was, perhaps, the first opportunity which Irving had ever had, with all eyes concentrated on himself, to commmiicate his thoughts without risk of the inevitable comparison, or the jealousy equally inevitable, of those who resented

1J4 FAKKWHLL SKU.MOX.

tlie idea of llioa.ssislant atUMiipting to rival 'm1u> Doctor." llr was mnv iH) longer 1 )|-. Clialmers's a.ssistant, but a Jjoiuloii ministor elect; and when the bonds Avhicli bound him were unloosed, all the kindnesses of the past ruslied warm ujion tlie memory of the impulsive young man. lie r:uuo into tlic pulpit glowing with a tender ilush of gratitude ; his discontent and weariness liad dropped off from him. and existed no longer ; ho remembered only the love, the friendship, the good ollices, the access he had obtained to many hearts. In that sermon, of wdiich his companion despaired, tlie materials requii'cd little research or arrangement. The preacher had but to go back upon his own life of two yeai^, seen in tlie warm reviving light of farewell kind- ness. He stood u]^ in that pidpit, the last time he was to occupy it by right of his present position, and calmly told the astonished hearers of his own unpopularity, of their forbearance yet not applause, of the "imperfections which had not been hid from their eyes," yet of the brotherly kindness which they, and especially the poor among them, had shown liim ; and proclaimed the praises of his leader with a warmth and heartfelt ful- ness which distressed and overwlielmed that sober Scotsman, unaccustomed to and disapproving of such demonstrations of attachment. Even upon that un- enthusiastic and pre-occupied audience, this i'arewell address seems to have made an impression. He left them at peace witli all men ; and forgetting, as his affectionate temperament had a faculty for forgetting, all his annoyances and discomforts there. This farewell took away every possibility of bitterness. They were all his friends whom he left behind, He gave a wide,

OFFERS HIS SERVICES IN LONDON TO ALL. 145

but warm, universal invitation to all. His liouse, his services, all that he could do, were freely pledged to whosoever of those parishioners might come to London aifd stand in need of him. He meant what he said, unguarded and imprudent as the expression was ; and the people mstinctively understood that he did so. It was thus with the warmest effusion of good-will that he left Glasgow, where, as in every other place, there was no lack of people who smiled at him, were doubtful of him, and patronised him with amusing toleration ; but where nobody now or then had an unkind word to say.

When the farewell was over, and the sermon had met with its award, that good, puzzled companion, who went with the incomprehensible preacher to Eosneath, confided all his doubts and troubles on this subject to the private ear of a sympathising friend. " Such a sermon would have taken me a week to write ! " said this bewildered worthy. Possibly a lifetime would have been too short for such a feat, had the good man but known.

Immediately after this leave-taking Irving proceeded to Annan, to his ftxther's house, there to appear once more before the Presbytery and go through his fmal " trials " for ordination. He chose to have this great solemnity of his life accomplished in the same church in which he had been baptized, and in which a third sad act awaited him. But there was no foreboding in the air of that sweet spring, which he spent in a kind of retreat of calm and retirement in his paternal house. The breathing-time which he had there, as well as the hopes and interests whicli pleasantly agitated it, are

VOL. I. L

14r. RKCKIVKS A FAKKWKLI, rRKSKNT.

(1o?cribo(l in ;i \c\iov addri'ssod to Iiis IViiMul and i'lv- qiuMit convspoiuk'Ht, ^Ir. ])avi(l IIdjK'.

" Aiinnn, 2Sth :\I;iy, 1822.

" I am snugly seated in this Temple of Indolence, and very loath to be invaded by any of the distractions of the busy cit}*. I would fain devote myself to the enjoyment of our home and family, and to meditate from a distance the busy scene I have left, and the more busy scene to which I am bound. M\" mind seems formed for inactivity. I can saunter the whole day from field to field, riding on impressions ;ind the transient thoughts they awaken, with no companion uf books or men, saving, perhaps, a little nephew or niece in my hand.

" You may from this conceive how little disposed I am to Uike any task in hand of any kind; and I had almost resolved to refuse flatly the flattering recjuests of my friends to publisli that poor discourse ; but yesterday there came such a letter from Mr. Collins, full of argument and the kindest encourage- ment, that I have resolved to comply, and shall signify my resolution to him by this post.

" For the other matter, it gives me the most exquisite d(;light to think my friends remember me with attachment. That they are aljout to show it by some testimonial I should per- haps not have known till I received it. It is not my part to make a choice ; but if I were to think of anything, it would be that very thing which you mention. But of this say nothing as coming from me."

Tlic matter liere referred t(j was a pre.'^eiit whicli some members of St. Jc^liii's church weie dcsircjus of making hira. It was decided that it should be a watch ; and I have been told, without, however, being able to vouch for the entire authenticity of the story, that when the matter was entirely decided upon, and the money in hand, Irving was consulted to know whether lie had any particular fancy or liking in tlie matter. He had

THE ANNANDALE WATCHMAKER. 147

one, and that was characteristic. He requested that it should be provided by a certain watchmaker, whose distinguishing quahty was not that he was skilful in his trade, but that he was an Annandale man. The good Glasgow donors yielded to tliis recommendation ; and Irving had the double dehght of receiving a very substantial proof of his friends' attachment, and of throwing a valuable piece of work in the way of his countryman. Whether the watch itself was the better for the arrangement tradition does not tell.

While the prospect of this tribute, or rather of the affection which it displayed, gave him, as he says, in the fulness of his heart, " exquisite dehght," the piib- hcation of his sermon was also going on. But the dis- course, in which Irving had poured out all the generous exuberance of his feehngs, fell into dangerous hands before it reached the public. Mrs. Chalmers laid hold upon the offending manuscript ; and without either the consent or knowledge of the writer, cut down its panegyric into more moderate dimensions, — a proceeding which the lucldess author, when he came to know of it, resented deeply, as I suspect most authors would be disposed to do. "Eeturning some months afterwards to Glasgow," says Dr. Hanna, in his Life of Dr. Chalmers., " his printed sermon was handed to Mr. Irvmg, who, on looking over it, broke out into expressions of astonishment and indignation at the hberties which had been taken with his production, — expressions which would have been more measured had he known who the culprit was." Such a meddling with his first publication was enough to try the temper of the meekest of men.

-L 2

us A ''SINGULAR IIOXOUR."

InuiKHlialoly aftiT liis (mlinntion ho rcfiirncd lo Glasgow, and lliere assisted Pr. CIimIhums in llu' solcnui and austere pomp — (])onip, nni corlainly of onlwaid accessories, yet it is tlie only woid l»y wliicli I can describe ihe importance given lo tlu' lialf-yt'arly occa- f<wn, the " sacramental season "of Scotch piety, sepa- rated as it is, by long ai ray of (Icvolionnl services, from the ordinary course of the year) — of a Scottish com- munion. Irving liimself describes this as "having experienced of my dear friend "Or. Chalmers the siuLTular honour of administering the sacrament to his parish Hock, being my first act as an ordained minister." It was a graceful conclusion to his residence in Glasgow. From thence he set out, amid honour and good wishes, with the highest hopes in his mind, and charity in his heart, on the morning of the 8th of July, 1822, to Loudon. 'J lie fului'e seems lo luive glowed before Jiim with all the indefinite brightness of early youth. Cer- tainly that little chapel in London, in those dread wastes id)out Ilolborn, far out of hearing of the great world as might have been supposed, with fifty undistinguished members, to their own knowing strenuous Scotch churchmen, but so far as the great iiidifferent com- nmnity- about them was concerned, lost in the crowd of Dissenting chapels, nameless and unknowji ])laces of worsliip — had little in itself to lift the anticipations of its minister Uj any hupeilalive lieigliL ; noj' did Jic carry with liim any comforting consciousness of success; unflattered, undeceived, fully aware and never scruphng to confess that his preaching liad hitlieilo, except in individual cases, been little more than tolerated, it might liavc been supposed a very homely and sombre per-

GOES TO LONDON. 149

spective wliicli opened before this yoiing man. So far as actual realities were concerned, it was so ; but the instinct of his heart contradicted reahty, and showed, in wonderful indefinite vision, some great thing that was to come. He calls himself " a man unknown, despised, and almost outcast ; — a man spoken against, suspected, and avoided ; " yet, withal, proceeds to his obscure corner of that great wilderness of men, in which so many men, greater than he could pretend to be, had been swallowed up and lost, with a certain meffable expectation about him which it is impossible to describe, but which shines through every word and action. He did not foresee how it was to come ; he could not have pro- phesied that all London woidd stir to the echoes of his voice. All that memorable tragic life that lay solemnly waiting for him among the multitudinous roofs was hid in the haze of an illumination which never takes visible shape or form. But Nature, prevoyant, tingled into his heart an inarticulate thrill of prophecy. He went forth joyfully, wittingly, aware of all the hazards of that battle, into the deepest of the fight — amid all the exaltation of his hopes, never without a touch of forlorn dignity, acknowledged without any bitterness, the consciousness of a man who, however he might triumph hereafter, had known many a defeat already. Thus Irving went out of his youth and obscurity, out of trials and probation not often exceeded, to the solemn field full of hghts and shadows greater than he dreamt of, where his course, for a time, was to be that of a conqueror, and where, at last, like other kings and victors before him, he was to fall, dauntless but mortal, with the loss of all save honour.

1 :.()

ciurTErv VI 1.

LONDON, 1822.

"On the second Sabbatli of July, 1822," Trviiig l)cgan liis lal)oiirs in London. Tlic lifty people who had signed his call, with !?nch dq)endents as might belong to them, and a stray sprinkling of London Scotsmen, curious to hear what their new countryman might have to say for himself, formed all the congregation in the little chapel. The ])osition was not one calculated to excite the holder ( )f it into any flights of ambition, so far as its own qualities went. It was far from the fashionable and influential quarter of the town, — a chapel attached to a charity, and a congregation reduced t(j the very lowest ebb in point of numbers. Nor did Irving enter upon his career widi those aids of private friendsliij) which might make an ordinary man sanguine of in- creasing his estimation and social sphere. Sir David Wilkie records liis behef that tlie new preacher had introductions only to liimself and Sir Peter Lawrie, neither of them likely to do much in the way of opening up London, gi'cat, proud, and critical, to the unknown Scotsman ; and though tliis statement may not be entirely correct, yet it is evident that he went with few recommendations, save to the little Scotch community amidst which, as people supposed, he was to live and

FIRST APPEARANCE. 151

labour. There are stories extant among that community still, concerning the early begmuings of his fame, which, after all that has passed since, are sadly amusing and strange, with then* dim recognition of some popular quahties in the new minister, and mutual congratula- tions over a single adherent gained. Attracted by the enthusiastic admiration expressed by a painter almost unknown to fame, of the noble head and bearing of the new comer, another painter was induced to enter the httle chapel where the stranger preached his first sermon. When the devotional services were over, — beginning with the Psalm, read out from the pulpit, in a voice so splendid and melodious that the harsh metres took back their original rhythm, and those verses so dear to Scotsmen justified their influence even to more fastidious ears, — the preacher stood up, and read as the text of Ms sermon the following words : — " Therefore came I unto you without gainsaying, as soon as I was sent for. I ask you, therefore, for what in- tent you have sent for me ? " The sermon has not been preserved, so far as I am aware ; but the text — remem- bered as almost all Irving's texts are remembered — conveys all the picturesque reahty of the connection thus formed between the preacher and his people, as well as the solemn importance of the conjunction. The listening stranger was of course fascinated, and became not only a member of Mr, Irving's church, but — more faithful to the Church than to the man, — a supporter of the Church of Scotland after she had expelled him.

By gradual degrees the little chapel began to fill. So far as appears, there was nobody of the least distinc- tion connected with the place ; and it is hard to

\3-2 SATISFACTION WITH HIS XKW SriIEKK.

luulerstaiul lunv tlie cfi'oat worlil came so mucli as lo lic'iir of tlie existence of the new jiopulnrity. Tliis quiet period, full of deep hopes ;uid ])leiisant progress, l)ut as yet with none of the hi-jfh excitement of after days, lr\"iug himself describes in the rolluwing letter Lo liis friend, ^Ii\ Graham, of Burnswark : —

" London, 10 Gloucester Street, Queen S(juarc, " Bloomsbury, 5th August, 1822.

" ^Iy very dear Friend, — I have not forgot you, und if T wished to forget you I could not, sealed as you are in the midst of my affections, £md associated with so many recollections of worth and of enjoyment. You always undervalued yourself, and often made me angry by your remarks upon the nature of our friendship, counting me to gain nothing ; whereas I seemed always in your company to be delivered into those happy and healtliy states of mind which are in themselves an exquisite reward. To say nothing of your boimty, which shone through all the cloud of misfortune ; to say nothing of your tender interest in my future, my friends, my thoughts ; and your sleepless endeavour to promote and serve them — I liold your own manly, benignant, and delicate mind to Ijc a sufficient recommendation of you to men of a character and a genius I have no pretensions to. So in our future corre- spondence be it known to you that we feel and express our- selves as equals, and bring forth our thoughts with the same liberty in which we were wont to express them — which is the soul of all pleasant correspondence.

"You cannot conceive how happy I am here in the possession of my owTi thoughts, in the liljcrty of my own conduct, and in the favour of the Lord. The people have received me with open arms ; the church is already regularly filled ; my preaching, though of the average of an hour and a quarter, listened to with the most serious attention. My mind plenti- fully endowed with thought and feeling — my life ordered, as God enables me after his holy Word — my store supplied out of His abundant liberality. These are the elements of my happiness, for which I am bound to render unmeasured

HIS THOUGHTS AND HOPES. 153

thanks. Would all my friends were as mercifully dealt with, and mine enemies too.

" You have much reason for thankfulness that Grod, in the time of your sore trials, sustained your honour and your trust in Himself: nay, rather made you trust in Him the more He smote you. His time of delivery will come at leDgth, when you shall taste as formerly His goodness, and enjoy it with a chastened joy, which you had not known if you had never been afflicted : persevere, my dear friend, in the ways of godliness and of duty, until the grace of Grod, which grows in you, come to a full and perfect stature.

" For my thoughts, in which you were wont to take such interest, they have of late turned almost entirely inward upon myself ; and I am beginning dimly to discover what a mighty change' I have yet to undergo before I be satisfied with my- self. I see how much of my mind's very limited powers have been wasted upon thoughts of vanity and pride ; how little devoted to the study of truth and excellency upon their own account. As I advance in this self-examination, I see farther, until, in short, this life seems already consumed in endeavours after excellence, and nothing attained : and I long after the world where we shall know as we are known, and be free to follow the course we approve, with an unimpeded foot. At the same time I see a life full of usefulness, and from my fellow-creatures, full of glory, which I regard not ; and of all places this is the place for one of my spirit to dwell in. Here there are no limitations to my mind's highest powers ; here, whatever schemes are worthy may have audience and exami- nation ; here, self-denial may have her perfect work in midst of pleasures, follies, and thriftless employments of one's time and energies. Oh, that Grod would keep me, refine me, and make me an example to this generation of what His grace can produce upon one of the worst of His children !

" I have got three very good, rather elegant apartments, — a sitting-room, a bed-room, and dressing-room : and when Greorge * comes up, I have one of the attics for his sleeping

* His younger, and then only surviving brother, of whom and of whose education he seems fi-om this time to have taken the entire burden.

154 OUTSET IN' LIFK.

npartiiKMit. My landlady, as usual, a very worth}- woman, and likely to be wtli (■(•ntcnt with her ludger. (ieorge conies up when the cliusses sit down, and in the meantime is busy in Dr. Irvinu^'s shoj). This part of the town is very airy and healthy, cUise to Kussell ISiiuare, and not far from the church, and in the midst of my friends. ]\Iy studies begin after breakfast, and continue without interruption till dinner; and the product, as might be expected, is of a far superior order to what you were pleased to admire in St. John's."

This letter, after salutations as particular and de- tailed as ill an apostolical epistle, ends witli tlie in- junction to " tell me a deal about Annandale, Sandy Corne, and all ■worthy men," His correspondent, like himself, was an Annandule nuui, a Glasgow niereliaiit, with a little patrimony upon the side of one of those pastoral liills wliich overlook from a distance Irving's native towii. Avliei'e George, a young medical student, was l)usy among the drugs in the country doctor's shop; amid all the exultation of his liopes, as well as in the fullest tide of success, his heart was always warm to tills " countryside."

About a montli later, Dr. Clialmers, then making one of his rapid journeys through England, collecting the statistics of pauperism, came to London for the purpose of "introducing," according to Presbyterian uses and phraseology, though in this case somewhat after date, the young minister to his charge. This simple ceremony, which is entirely one of custom, and not of rule, is generally performed by the most pi-ized friend of tlie new preacher — who simply officiates for him, and in liis sermon takes the oppor- timity of recommending, in such terais as his friendship suggests, the young pastor to die lo\e and esteem of

CHALMEES IN LONDON. 155

his people. Nobody could be better qualified to do this than Irving's master in their common profession ; and it is creditable to both parties to note how they mutually sought each other's assistance at such eventful moments of their life. Dr. Chalmers writes to his wife on arriving in London that he found Irving " in good takmg with his charge. He speculates as much as before on the modes of preaching ; is quite inde- pendent with his own. people, and has most favourably impressed such men as Zachary Macaulay and Mr. Cunningham with the conception of his talents. He is happy and free, and withal making his way to good acceptance and a very good congregation." Such, as yet, was the modest extent of all prognostications in his favour. The good Doctor goes on to relate how he was delighted to find that Irving had been asked to dine with him in the house of a Bloomsbury M.P. ; evidently rejoicing in this opening of good society to his friend and disciple. The two returned together to Irving's lodgmgs after this dimier, and found there a hospitably-received, but apparently not too congenial

guest, " Mr. , the singularity of whose manners you

were wont to remark, who is liis guest at present from Glasgow. This," remarks Dr. Chalmers, " is one fruit of Mr. Irving's free and universal invitation ; but I am glad to find that he is quite determined as to visits, and apparently not much annoyed with the intrusion of callers." This is not the only evidence of the im- prudent hberality of Irving's farewell invitation to the entire congregation of St. John's. About the same time, to select one instance out of many, a poor man came to him seeking a situation, "a very genteel.

156 ArrEALS TO IRVIXG'S SY.MrATIlY.

rospcctable-loukiiig yoiiii^ inan,"«ays the compassionate prcaclier, wlio refers liiiii, in a letter full of beseecliing synijxitliy, to his universal assistant and resource in all troubles — tlie good Wil]i;nn ILunilton. Such peti- tioners came in multitudes througli all his after-hfe — receiving sometimes hospitality, sometimes advice — recommendations to other people more hkely to help them — kindness always. Such troubles come readily enough of themselves to the clergymen of a popular church ; but the imprudence of inviting them was entu'ely characteristic of a man who woidd have sensed and entertained the entire world, if he could.

The next Sunday, when Dr. Chalmers preached, the little Cross Street chui'ch was, of course, crowded. Wilkie, the most tenacious of Scotsmen, had been already led to attendance upon Irving's ministrations, and was there, accompanied by Sir Thomas Lawrence, to hear his still greater countryman. But the brilliant crowd knew nothing yet of the other figure in that pulpit ; and "svent as it came, a passing meteor. After this, Dr. Chalmers concludes his estimate of his former colleague's condition and prospects in tlie fohowing words : " Mr. Ining I left at Ilomerton, and as you are interested in him I may say, once for all, that he is prospering in his new situation, and seems to feel as if in that very station of command and congeniahty whereunto you have long known him to aspire. I hope that he ^vilI not hurt his usefulness by any kind of eccentricity or impnidence." In these odd and characteristic words Dr. Chalmers, always a little im- patient and puzzled even in his kindest moments about a man so undeniably eminent, yet so entirely unhke

TEOGEESS IN POPULAEITY. 157

himself, dismisses Irving, and proceeds upon his sta- tistical inquiries.

Meanwhile, m this station of " command and con- geniahty," as Chalmers so oddly terms it, Irvmg made swift and steady way. Writing at a later period to his congregation, he mentions a year as having passed before the tide of popularity swelled upon them beyond measure ; but this must have been a failure of memory, for both the preacher and congregation were much earher aware of the exceeding commotion and interest awakening around them. He expresses his own con- sciousness of this very simply in another letter to his friend David Hope.

" 19 Gloucester Street, Queen Square, " 5tli November, 1822.

"My dear Feiend, — You have too good reason to complain of me, and a thousand more of my Scottish friends ; but be not too severe ; you shall yet find me in London the same true- hearted fellow you knew me in Glasgow But I had

another reason for delaying ; I wished, when I did write, to be able to recount to you an exact account of my success. Tliank God, it seems now beyond a doubt. The church overflows every day, and they already begin to talk of a right good Kirk, worthy of our mother and our native countr}^ But into these vain speculations I have little time to enter, being engrossed with things strictly professional. You are not more regular at the counting-house, nor, I am sure, sooner (^Anglice earher), neither do you labour more industriously, till four chaps from the Eam's Horn Kirk *, than I sit in to this my study, and occupy my mind for the benefit of my flock. The evening brings more engagements with it than I can over- take, and so am I kept incessantly active. My engagements have been increased, of late, by looking out for a house to dwell in. I am resolved to be this Ishmaelite no longer, and

* One of the Glasgow churches, popularly so called.

158 "OUR SCOlTlSll YOUTH.

to have a station of my own npon the face of the earth. So a new year will see me fixed in my own habitation, where there will be ever welcome entertainment for him who was to me for a Itrother at the time of my sojourning in Glasgow. When I look back upon those happy years, I could almost wish to live them over again, in order to have anew the in- stances I then received of true brotherly kindness from you and so many of your townsmen.

" You would be overjoyed to hear the delight of our Scot- tish youth, wliich they express to me, at being once more gathered together into one, and the glow with which they speak of their recovered habits. This is the beginning, I trust, of good amongst them. So may the Lord grant in His mercy and loving-kindness.

" Xow^ I wish to know about yourself — how all your affairs

prosper I could speculate much upon the excellent

fruit season, and the wretched oil season ; but you would laugh at my ignorance. And there is something more valu- able to be speculated upon. I do hope you prosper in the one thing needful, under your most valuable pastor ; and also my dear friend Giaham. Give my love to him, and say I have not found time to answer his letter ; but if this thing of settlement were off my mind, I should get into regular ways. Do not punish me, but write me with all our news ; and believe me, my dear David,

" Your most affectionate friend,

" Edward Irving."

The imiuediate origin of Irving's popularity, or ratlier of the flood of noble and fashionable hearers who poured in upon the little chapel in Ilatton Garden all at once, ■without warning or premonition, is said to have been a speech of Canning's. Sir James Mackintosh had been by some unexpected circumstance led to hear the new preacher, and heard Irving in his prayer de- scribe an unknown family of orphans belonging to the obscure congregation, as now " tln^own upon

CANNING AND MACKINTOSH. 159

the fatherhood of God." The words seized upon the mind of the philosopher, and he repeated them to Canning, who " started," as Mackintosh rehites, and, expressing great admiration, made an instant engage- ment to accompany his friend to the Scotch church on the foUowing Sunday. Shortly aftei", a dis- cussion took place in the House of Commons, in which the revenues of the Chmxh were referred to, and the necessary mercantile relation between high talent and good pay insisted upon. No doubt it suited the statesman's purpose to instance, on the other side of the question, the little Caledonian chapel and its new preacher. Canning told the House that, so far from universal was this rule, that he himself liad lately heard a Scotch minister, trained in one of the most poorly endowed of churches, and estabhshed in one of her outlying dependencies, possessed of no endowment at all, preach the most eloquent sermon that he had ever listened to. The curiosity awakened by this speech is said to have been the first beginning of that mvasion of " society " which startled Hatton Garden out of itself. This first year, however, of his residence in London was so far obscure that he had as yet opened his voice only in the pulpit, and had consequently given the press and its vassals no vantage ground on which to assail him. It is perhaps, with the new publicity which his first publication brought upon him in view, that he reminds his people how " for one year or nearly so, beginning with the second Sabbath of July, 1822, our imion Avent on cementing itself by mutual acts of kindness, in the shade of that happy obscurity which we then enjoyed. And I dehght to remember that

160 IIAITY Oll^ClUlTV.

seasou ol' our early lovo and coiilulcnce, because llie noisy tongues of men and tlieir envious eyes were not upon us." Willi llie best will in tlic world newspapers can take but little notice of a popular preacher, and periodicals of liiglier rank none at all. so that it was merely i)rivatc criticism which commented upon the great new voice rising up in the heart of London. Be- sides the \'ague general facts of the rapidly raised entliusia,"<m, of a]:)plications for seats in the little Cale- donian chapel, which would only accommodate about six hundred people, rising in one quarter to fifteen hundi'cd, and Irving's o^vn simple and gratified intima- tion that " the chui'ch overflows every day," there is very httle certain information to be obtained of that first year of his progress in London. Thirty Sermons, taken doAvii in shorthand by W. J. Oxford, but pub- lished only in 1835, after Irving's death, and forming the second volume of Irving's Life and Works — a production evidently got up to catch the market at tlie moment of his death — contains the only record re- maining to us of his early eloquence. Nobody who ■reads these sermons, imperfect as they must l^e from the channel through which they come, A\ni wonder at the rising glow of excitement which, when a second year set in, brought all London struggling for places to the Httle Scotch church, abeady fully occu- pied by its own largely increased congregation. They have, it is ti-ue, no factitious attractions, and genius, all warm and eloquent, has preached before with- out such results; but the reader will not fail to see the great charm of the preacher's life and labours already glowing palpable through those early procla-

THE " HAPPY WARRIOR. 161

mations of liis message. Heart and soul, body and spirit, the man who speaks comes before us as we read; and I have no doubt that the first thrill of that charm which soon moved all London, and the fascina- tion of which never wholly faded from Irving's im- passioned hps, lay in the fact that it was not mere genius or eloquence, great as their magic is, but something infinitely greater — a man, all visible in those hours of revelation, striving mightily with every man he met, in an entu^e personal unity which is possible to very few, and which never fails, where it appears, to exercise an influence superior to any merely intellectual endowment. Kor is it possible to read the few" letters of this period, especially those above quoted, without feehng the deep satisfac- tion and content which at last possessed him, and the stimidus given to all his facidties by this profound consciousness of having attained the place suitable for him and the work wliich he could do. A long breath of satisfaction expands the breast which has so often swelled with the wistful sic^hs of lonoino; and deferred

O DO

hope. He is the " happy warrior " at length able to work out his life " upon the plan that pleased his youth- ful thought ; " and liis descriptions of his studies and the assiduity with which he set to work — his very self- exammations and complaints of his own unworthiness, are penetrated with this sentiment. He stands at the beginning of his career in an attitude almost sublime in its simplicity, looking forward with all the deep eager- ness of an ambition which sought not its own advance- ment — a man to whom God had granted the desire of his heart. Few men consciously understand and

VOL. I. M

1G2 THE DESIRE OF TITS ITEART.

acknowledge tlic fulness of this blessing, AvhicJi indeed is not often conferred. Most people, indeed, find the posi- tion they had hoped and longed for, to fall far short (^f theii' hopes when it is attained. Ii'ving was an exception to this common rule of humanity. He had reached the point to which he had been struggUng, and amid all the joyful stir of his faculties to fill his place worthily, he never hesitates nor grudges to make full acknowledg- ment that he has got his desire. Not merely obedience and loyalty constrain him to the work, but gratitude to that Master who has permitted him to reach the very post of his choice. With a full heart and unliesitating words, and even more by a certain swell of heroic joy and content in everything he does and says, he testifies liis thankfulness. It is no longer a man struggUng, as most men do, through ungenial circumstances and ad- verse conditions whom we have to contemplate, but a man consciously and confessedly in the place which his imagination and wishes have long pointed out to him as the most desirable, the most suitable in the world for himself.

With this buoyant and joyful satisfaction, however, no mean motives mingled. Irving's temper was emi- nently social. lie could not live without having people round him to love, and stiU more to admire and reve- rence, and even to follow ; but no vain desire of " good society " seems to have moved the young Scotchman. He was faithful to Bloomsbury, which his congregation favoured ; and when he set up his first household in London, though moving a Httle out of that most respect- able of localities, he went further off instead of nearer the world of fashion, and settled in Myddelton Terrace,

HIS FIRST HOUSEHOLD. 163

Pentonville. Here he lived in modest economy for some years, prodigal in nothing but charity. The society into which he first glided was still Scotch, even when out of the narrower ecclesiastical boundaries. David Wilkie was one of his earliest friends, and Wilkie brought him in contact with Allan Cunning- ham, a still closer countryman of his own. Thus he made gradual advances into the friendship and know- ledge of the people about him ; and with his young brother sharing Ms lodging and caUing out his affec- tionate cares, with daily studies close and persevering as those he has himself recorded; with the httle church Sunday by Sunday overflowing more frdly — till ac- cidents began to happen in the narrow streets about Hatton Garden, and at last the concourse had to be regulated by wiles, and the dehghted, but embarrassed, managers of the httle Caledonian chapel found an amomit of occupation thrust upon their hands for which they were totahy unprepared, and had to hold the doors of their httle builduig hke so many besieged posterns against the assaults of the crowd ; and with notable faces appearing daily more fi^equent in the throng of heads all turned towards the preacher, Edward Irving passed the first year of his life in London, and sprang out of obscurity and failure with a sudden unexampled leap to the giddiest height of popular applause, abuse, and idolatry, bearing the wonderful revolution with a steady but joyful sim- plicity, recognising his success as openly as he had recognised the want of it, under which he suffered for so many silent years.

M 2

i(;4

CILU^TER Vm.

1823.

Tjie second year of Irving's residence in London was one of the deepest importance, both to himself person- ally and to his reputation. It opened with the publi- cation of his first book, the Orations and the Argument for Judgment to come, both of which had been partly preached in the form of sermons, and were now in an altered shape presented, not to any special rehgious body, l)ut to the world which had gathered together to hear them, and to those who lead the crowd, the higher intellects and imaginations, whom neither reh- gious books nor discourses usually address. In this volume it is perceptible that the preacher's mind had swelled and risen with the increase of his audience. Sometliing more, it was apparent, was required of him than merely congregational ministrations; and he rises at the call to address those classes of men who are never to be found in numbers in any congregation, but who did drift into his audience in unprecedented crowds. In the preface to this pubhcation he explains his own object with noble gravity, claiming for himself, %vith the most entire justice, though in such a way as naturally to call forth against him the jealous criticism of all self-satisfied preachers, a certain originahty in the treatment of his subject, and desiring to be heard not

THE ORATIONS. 165

in the ear of the Chiirch only, but openly, before the greater tribunal of the world. At the height of his early triumph, looking back, he traces, through years of silence, liis own steady protest against the ordinary strain of pulpit teaching ; and with a startling earnest- ness— which that long conviction, for wliich already he had suffered both hardship and injustice, explains and justifies better than anything else can do — declares his knowledge of the great rehgious difficulty of the time. " It hath appeared to the author of this book," he says, going at once to the heart of the subject, and with characteristic frankness putting that first which was Hke to be taken most exception to, " from more than ten years' meditation upon the subject, that the chief obstacle to the progress of divine truth over the minds of men, is the want of its being sufficiently presented to them. In this Christian country there are perhaps nine-tenths .of every class who know nothing at all about the apphcation and advantages of the single truths of revelation, or of revelation taken as a whole ; and what they do not know they cannot be expected to reverence or obey. This ignorance, in both the higher and the lower orders, of rehgion, as a discerner of the thoughts and intentions of the heart, is not so much due to the want of inquisitiveness on their part, as to the want of a sedulous and skilful ministry on the part of those to whom, it is intrusted."

It cannot be surprising that such a beginning aroused at once aU the antagonism "with which imiovations are generally regarded, and provoked those accusations of self-importance, self-exaltation, and vanity, which still are current among those who know nothmg of the

166 lUVLVG'S EXrERIMENT IN rEEACIIING.

person they stigmatise. But not to say that he I)roves liis case, wliicli most luiprejudiced readers will allow, nor tliat the grievance has gone on since his days, growing more and nmix' intolerable, and calling forth many reproofs less serious hut more bitter than Living's, none who have accompanied us so far in this liistory, and perceived the exercises of patience which the preacher liimsclf liad to imdergo, and the warm and strong conviction arising out of them which for years had hindered his own advancement, will be surprised at the plain speaking ^vith which he heralds his own first performance. To get at the true way of addressing men, he himself had been for years a wearied listener and discouraged essayist at speech. At last he had found the secret ; and the whole world round him had owned "with an instantaneous thrill the power that was in it. With this triumphant vindication of his own doubts and dissatisfaction, to confirm him in his views, it was impossible for such a man to be silent on the general question. At this dazzling moment he had access to the highest intelligences in the country, — the teachers, the governors, the autliorities of the land, had sought liim out in that Avilderness of mediocre London, which had not even the antiquity of the city, nor any recom- mendation whatever, but Avas lost in the smoke, the dust, the ignoble din and bustle. And why was such an audience unusual ? IIow was it that they were not oftener attracted, seized upon, made to hear God's Word and will, if need were, in spite of tliemselves ? Thinking it over, he comes to the conclusion, not that his own genius was the cause, Ijut tljat his bretliren had not found the true method, had not learned the

ADDRESSES HIMSELF TO EDUCATED MEN. 167

most effective way of discliarging tlieir duty. " Tliey prepare for teaching gipsies, for teacliing bargemen, for teaching miners, by apprehending their way of conceiving and estimating truth ; and why not prepare," he asks, with eloquent wonder, and a truth which no- body can dispute, " for teacliing imaginative men, and political men, and legal men, and scientific men, who bear the world in hand ? " This preparation, judgmg from what he saw around him every day, Irving was well justified in beheving he himself had attained ; and he did not hesitate, while throwing himself boldly forth upon the world m a book — a farther and swifter mes- senger than any voice — to declare it plainly, the highest reason and excuse for the publication, in which he now, with all the fervour and eloquence of a personal com- mmiication, addressed all who had ears to hear.

The preface to the Orations^ wdiich form the first part of the yolume, is so characteristic and noble an expression of friendship, that it would be inexcusable to omit it.

" To the Eev. Thomas Chalmers, D.D.,

" Minister of St. John's Church, Glasgow.

" My honoueed Friend, — I thank God, who directed you to hear one of my discourses, when I had made up my mind to leave my native land for solitary travel in foreign parts. That dispensation brought me acquainted with your good and tender-hearted nature, whose splendid accomplishments I knew already ; and you now live in the memory of my heart more than in my admii-ation. WTiile I laboured as your assistant, my labours were never weary, they were never enough to express my thankfulness to God for havino- associated me with such a man, and my affection to the man with whom I was associated. I now labour in another field.

168 AEGUMKXT FOR JUDGMENT TO COME.

nmonc^a people whom I love, and overwhom God hath, hy signs une»]uivocal, already blessed my ministry. You go to labour likeNsnse in another vineyard, where may the Lord bless your retired meditations as he hath blessed your active operations. And may He like^Yise watch over the flock of our mutual soli- citude, now about to fall into other hands. The Lord be with you and your household, and render unto you manifold for the blessings which you have rendered unto me. I could say much about these Orations which I dedicate to you, but I will nut mingle with any literary or theological discussion this pure tribute of aflection and gratitude which I render to 3'ou before the world, as I have already done into your private ear. I am, my honoured friend, yours, in the bonds of the gospel, " Edward Irving."

" Caledonian Church, Ilatton Garden, July, 1823."

Tlie Argument for Judgment to come^ a longer and more elaborate work, which occupies the larger half of the same volmne, seems to have been specially sug- gested to the mmd of the writer by the two Visions of Judgment of Southey and BjTon. The profane flattery of the one, most humihating tribute to both giver and receiver wliich the office of laureate has, in recent ages at least, extorted from any poet, and the disgusting parody of the other, excited in L:-ving all the indig- nation and repugnance which was natural to a right- thinking and pious mind. His feeling on tlie subject seems warmer than those miserable productions were worthy of exciting ; but it is natural that a contem- porary should regard such degradations of literature \\\\h. a liveher indignation than it is possible to feel when natural oblivion has mercifully swallowed them up. The Argument was dedicated, hke the Dilations, to one of his earher friends, the Rev. Eobert (afterwards well known as Dr.) Gordon of Edinburgh ; tliis highest

ASSAILED BY CRITICS. 169

mark of regard or gratitude, which it is in an author's power to bestow, being in both cases characteristically conferred on men who could in no way advance or aid liim in his career, but whom he distinguished from pure gratitude and friendship only. Inscribed with these names, he sent his first venture into the yet untried world of hterature, exposing himself freely, with all his undernable pecuharities both of mind and diction, to a flood of critics, probably never, before or since, so universally excited about any volume of rehgious addresses which ever came from the press.

The consequence was an onslaught so universal, exciting, and animated, that the satire of the day — the age of pamphlets being then in full existence — took hold of the matter, and has preserved, in a curious and amusing form, the comments and ferment of the time. The Trial of the Rev. Edward Irving^ 31. A., a Cento of Criticism., had reached the fifth edition, now before us, in the same year, 1823, which was half over before Irving's book was pubhshed. It is the report of a prosecution carried on before the Court of Common Sense, by Jacob Oldstyle, Clerk, against the new preacher, at the trial of which all the editors of the leading papers are ex- amined, cross-examined, and covered with comic con- fusion. The state of popular interest and excitement suggested by the very possibility of such a production, and the fact of its having run through at least five edi- tions, is of itself almost mibelievable, considering the short period of Irving's stay in London, and his character as a preacher of an obscure, and, so far as the ordinary knowledge of the London pubhc was concerned, almost foreign church. Such iijeu d' esprit is a more powerful

170 MOCK TRIAL.

"witness of tlic general commotion tlinn any graver testimony. Tlic common public, it a})pcars, were sulliciently interested to enjoy tlie mock trial, and the discomlitiu'e of able editors consequent upon that ex- amination, and knew the Avliole matter so thoroughly, that they could ap})reciate the fun of the travestie. The editor of the Times being called, and having in the course of his examination given the court the benefit of hearing his own article on the subject, gives also the following account of the aspect of affaks at the Caledonian chapel : —

"Did you find that yonr exposure of the defendant's pretensions had the effect of putting an end to the public delusion ? "

" Quite the reverse. The crowds which thronged to the Caledonian chapel instantly doubled. The scene which Cross Street, Hatton Grarden, presented on the following Sunday beggared all description. It was quite a Vanity Fair. Not one half of the assembled multitude could force their way into the sanctum sanctorum. Even we ourselves were shut out among the vulgar herd. For the entertainment of the excluded, however, there was Mr. Basil Montagu preaching peace and resignation from a window; and the once cele- brated Romeo Coates acting the part of trumpeter from the steps of the church, extolling ]Mr. Irving as the prodigy of prodigies, and abusing the Times for declaring that Mr. Irving was not the god of their idolatry."

The other witnesses called give corroborative testi- mony. An overwhelming popularity, which is not to be explained by common rules, is the one thing granted alike by opponents and supporters ; and all the weapons of -vvit are brought forth against a preacher who indeed had offered battle. JSTor were the newspapers the only critics ; every periodical work of tlie day seems to

INDICTMENT BEFORE THE COURT OF COMMON SENSE. 171

have occupied itself, more or less, with the extraordinary preacher ; most of them in the tone, not of hterary commentators, but of j^ersonal enemies or adherents. The Westminster and Quarterly Eeviews brought up the rear ; the former (in its first number) referring its readers " for the faults of Mr. Irving, to the thousand- and-one publications in which they have been zealously and carefully set forth," and complaining that it is " compelled to fall on Mr. Irving when every critical tooth in the nation has been fleshed upon him already." None of these criticisms were entirely favourable ; almost all fell heavily upon the phraseology, the gram- mar, and taste of the orator ; and few omitted to notice the imagined " arrogance " of his pretensions. But from the solemn deUverance of the Quarterlies, down to the song of Doctor Squintum, with which the truculent gossip of John Bull edified his readers, eveiybody was eager to record their several opinions on a topic so interesting. Such matters were certainly discussed in those days with a degree of personality unknown to our pohter fashion of attack ; but we cannot remember to have seen or heard of anything like this odd turmoil of universal curiosity and excitement. The counts of the indictment laid against the culprit before the Court of Common Sense will give some idea of the character of the assaults made upon him. They were as follows : — •

First For being ugly.

Second. For being a Merry- An drew.

Third. For being a common quack.

Fourth. For being a common brawler.

Fifth. For being a common swearer.

Sixth. For being of very common understanding-

172 ACQUITTAL.

And, Seventh. For foUownmr divisive courses, subversive of the discipline of the order to which he beUmgs, aud contrary to tlio principles of Christian fcllowsliip and charity.

It will gratify our readers to know that Irving was not found guilty of ugliness, nor of any of the charges brought against liim, except the last ; and that one of his principal assailants, the Times itself, the Thunderer of the day, was convicted by his own confession of having condemned Sir Walter Scott as " a writer of no imagination," and Lord Byron as " destitute of all poetical talent."

Among all his smaller critics, the one personal pecu- harity, which impaired the effect of Irving's otherwise fine features and magnificent presence, seems to have always come conveniently to hand to prove his mounte- baiikism aud want of genius. Wlien his eloquence could not be decried, his divided sight was always open to criticism ; and when all harder accusations were ex- pended, his squint made a climax which delighted his assailants. Cockney wit, not much qualified for criti- cising anything which had to do with the Oracles of God, sang, not with ill-nature, but merely as a rehef to the feehngs whicli were incapable of more logical expression, the lively lay of Doctor Squintum, which indeed was a harmless effusion of wit, and injured nobody.

It was not only, however, in the legitimate review that this singular book was assailed or recommended. It produced a little attendant hterature of its own in the shape of pamphlets, one of which we have already mentioned and quoted from. Another, entitled An Examination and Defence of theWritings and Preachintj

DESCRIPTION OF THE CHURCH AND PREACHER. 173

of the Rev. Edward Irving., A.3I., gives the following, picture of the man and his church : —

" His mere appearance is such as to excite a high opinion of his intellectual powers. He is, indeed, one of whom the casual observer would say, as he passed him in the street, ' There goes an extraordinary man ! ' He is in height not less than six feet, and is proportionably strongly built. His every feature seems to be impressed with the characters of unconquerable courage and overpowering intellect. He has a head cast in the best Scottish mould, and ornamented with a profusion of long black cm'ly hair. His forehead is broad, deep, and expansive. His thick, black, projecting eyebrows overhang a very dark, small, and rather deep-set penetrating- eye. He has the nose of his nation " (whatever that may happen to be; the essayist does not inform us); "his mouth is beautifully formed, and exceedingly expressive of eloquence.

In a word, his countenance is exceedingly picturesque

Having cleared the way, let us request such of our readers as have not attended the Caledonian church, to repair, at a quarter-past ten o'clock on a Sunday morning, to Cross Street, Hatton Garden, the door of the church of which, if he be a humble pedestrian, he will find it difficult to reach, and when he gets to it he cannot enter without a ticket. If he occupies a carriage, he takes his turn behind other carriages, and is subject to the same routine. Having sur- mounted these difficulties, should his ticket be numbered he enters the pew so numbered; if not, he waits till after the prayer, or possibly all the time, which is, however, unavoid- able. All this adjusted, exactly at eleven o'clock he beholds a tall man, apparently aged about thirty-seven or thirty- eight, with rather handsome but certainly striking features, mount the pulpit stairs. The service commences with a psalm, which he reads ; a,nd then a prayer follows in a deep, touching voice. His prayer is impressive and eloquent. The reading of a portion of Scripture follows, in advertence to which we will only say that he can read. We haste to the oration, for there the peculiar powers of the preacher are called into play. Having pronounced his text, he commences his subject in a low but very audible voice. The character

174 INFLUENCE OF HIS PERSONAL APrEARANCE.

of his style will iinmediatoly catch the ear of all. Until warmed by his sul)ject, we shall only be struck with a full and scriptural phraseology, in which much modern elision is rejected, some additional conjunction introduced, and the auxiliarj'' verbs kept in most active service. As he goes on his coimtenance, which is surrounded by a dark apostolic head of luiir, waving towards his shoulders, becomes strongly expressive and lighted up, and his gesture marked and vehement."

It is characteristic that nobody attempts to discuss Irving, even in such matters as his books or liis ser- mons, witliout prefatory personal sketches hke the above. Even now, when he has been dead for more than a quarter of a century, his most casual hearer of old times acknowledges the unity of the man by eagerly inter^Dolating personal description into every discussion concerning the great preacher. His person, his aspect, his height, and presence have all a share in his eloquence. There is no dividing him into sections, or making an abstract creature of this hving man.

And it should be remembered that the audience admitted after so elaborate a fashion were not the common rabble who surround and follow a popular preacher. His critics made it a strong point against the bold and unhesitating orator, that it was not the poor, but the intelligent, the learned, and the intellec- tual whom he amiounced himself intent upon addressing. Virtuous Theodore Hook and other edifying evange- lists declared the entry to the Caledonian chapel to be closed to " the pious poor " — a class not much accus- tomed to sucli advocates of tlieir claims. " His chapel is every Sunday a gallery of beauty and fashion," says another of his assailants ; and persons more important than the fair and fashionable sought the same obscure

INCONVENIENCES OF POPULARITY. 175

place of worship. The effect of such incessant crowd- ing, however agreeable at once to the Christian zeal and national pride of the congregation, was no small trial of their patience and good temper. A year later, when about to lay the foundation of their new church, Irving comments feelingly upon all the inconvenience and discomfort of popidarity. " It is not a small matter," he says in one of his sermons, " whether we shall in our new quarters be pressed on by every hindrance to rest and devotion, or shall be dehvered into the enjoy- ment of Sabbath quiet and church tranquilhty. We can now look forward to the comfort and quiet which other congregations enjoy, to that simple condition of things which the simphcity of our Church re- quireth. We have had a most difficult and tedious way to make, through every misrepresentation of vanity and ambition : we have stood in eminent peril from the visits of rank and dignity wliich have been paid to us. There was much good to be expected from it ; therefore we paid wiUingly the price, being de- sirous that they who heard the truth but seldom should hear it when they were disposed. But these, you know, are bad conditions to our being cemented together as a Church ; they withdraw us from ourselves to those conspicuous people by whom we were visited ; from which I have not ceased to warn you, and agamst which I have not ceased to be upon my own guard."

In spite of the universal assaults made against the book, the Orations and Argument ran into a third edition m little more than as many months ; and remain, now that all their critics are forgotten, among the most notable examples of rehgious eloquence.

176 SUCCESS OF TIIK ROOK.

But it is not our business to criticise these works, whicli have been long before tlic pubUc, and can be still judged on their separate merits. Their author, mean- while, was approaching a crisis in liis life still more important than the pubUcation of his first book. Longer tlian the patriarch he had waited for his Eachel : and now an eniraofement, Avhich had lasted, I believe, eleven years, and had survived long separation, and many changes, both of circumstances and senti- ment, was at length to be fullilled. lu the end of September, 1823, Irving left London and travelled by several successive stages to Kii'kcaldy, where his bride awaited him. lie dates the following letter, pleasantly suggestive of the condition of his mmd in these new prospects, from Bolton Abbey. It is addressed to William Hamilton.

" My dear and valuable Friend. — I write you thus early by ray brother, merely to inform you of my health and hap- piness ; for as yet I have had no time to do anything but walk abroad, among the most beautiful and sequestered scenes with which I am surrounded ; and which never fail to pro- duce upon my spirit the most pleasing and profitable effects. ^^^len I shall have rested I will write you and my other per- sonal friends at length, and let you know all my plans and purposes during my absence. ... I shall not write you till I get at my journey's end, and have, perhaps, completed its chief object. But, late though it is, I cannot help telh'ng you how happy I am, and how tranquil and holy a Sabbath I spent yesterday, and how every day I engross into my mind new thoughts, and ruminate upon new designs con- nected with the ministry of Christ in that great city where I labour. The Lord strengthen me, and raise up others more holy and more devoted for His holy service. I foresee infinite battles and contentions, not with the persons of men, but with

A RURAL SUNDAY. 177

their opinions. My rock of defence is my people. They are also my rock of refuge and consolation. We have joined hands together, and I feel that we will make common cause. I hope the Lord will be pleased to give me their souls and their fervent prayers, and then, indeed, we shall be mighty against all opposition.

" AVill you be so good as to give my brother an order upon my account for whatever cash he may need to enter himself to the hospitals with, or, if it is more orderly, to give it him yourself, and consider this as your voucher should anything happen to me before we meet ? I should be happy to hear from you that all things are going on well.

" Yours most affectionately,

" Edward Irving. " 29th September, 1823."

After this he passed on his way, by bis father's house in Annan ; and the Sunday before his marriage, being now no longer a private man, with his time at his own disposal, went to Haddington to preach among his early friends. There, where he had made his youthful beginnuig in hfe, and where, when a probationer, he had preached with the ordinary result of half-con- temptuous toleration, his coming now stirred all the little town into excitement. The boys who had been his pupils were now men, proud to recall them- selves to his notice ; and with a warmer thrill of local pride, in recollection of his temporary connection with their burgh, the people of Haddington welcomed the man whom great London had discovered to be the greatest orator of his day. Wherever he went, indeed, he was hailed with that true Scottish approbation and deUght which always hails the return of a man who has done his duty by Scotland, and made himself famous — a satisfaction no way lessened by the recol-

VOL. I. N

178 HIS MAKUlAdE.

loction that Scotland herseir luul not ])ccn tlie first to discover liis iircal qualities.

" Irving is in Scotland," writes Dr. Gordon from Edinburgh to Irving's friend, Mr. Story. "I have seen liiin twice for a little. 'i'he same noble fellow — and in spite of all his alLujed egotism, a man of great simplicity and straightforwardness, lie is to be mar- ried to-day, I believe, to llkliss Martin, of Kirkcaldy." This was on the 13th of October. Tlie loner-enfraired coujile were married in that Manse of Kirkcaldy which liad witnessed so many youthful chapters in Irving's life, and which was yet more to be associated with his deepest and most tender feehngs. They were married by the grandfather of the bride, a venerable old man — brother, as I believe has been abeady mentioned, of the celebrated Scotch painter, David MartLn,whom the imagi- nation of Scotland fondly holds as a second Eeynolds — and in his own person a man much venerated, the father of the clergy in his locahty ; in the presence of a body of kindred worthy of a family in wliich three genera- tioas flourished together. I will not hnger upon any description of L'ving's wife. The character of a woman who has never voluntarily brought herself before the puljhc is sacred to her children and her friends. She stood by her husband bravely through every after vicissitude of his life : was so thorough a companion to him, that he confided to lier, in detail, all the thoughts which occupied him, as will be seen in after letters ; received his entire trust and confidence, piously laid him in his grave, brought up his children, and Uved for half of her hfe a widow indeed, in the exercise of all womanly and Christian virtues. If her adinii^ation for his genius,

HIS WIFE. 179

and the short-sightedness of love, led her rather to seek the society of those who held him in a kind of idolatry, than of friends more hkely to exert upon him the bene- ficial influence of equals, and so contributed to the clouding of his genius, it is the only blame that has been ever attached to her. She came of a family who were all distinguished by active talent and considerable character ; and with all the unnoted valour of a true woman, held on her way through the manifold agonies — in her case most sharp and often repeated — of hfe. After this event a period of wandering followed, to refresh the fatigue of the preacher, after his first year- long conflict with that hfe of London wliich, sooner or later, kills almost all its combatants. The bridal pafr appear in glimpses over the summer country. One evening, sitting at the window of his quiet manse, at the mouth of one of the lovehest and softest lochs of Clyde, the minister of Eosneath saw a vast figure approach- ing through the twilight, carrying — an adjunct which seems to have secured immediate recognition— a port- manteau on its Herculean shoulder. It was Irvino-, followed by liis amused and admiring wife, who had come down from Glasgow by one of the Clyde steamers, and had walked with his burden from the other side of the little peninsula. " And do you mean to say that you have carried that all the way ? " cried the astonished host, as he hastened to welcome his unex- pected visitors. " And I would like to know," answered the bridegroom, with all the gleeful consciousness of strength, stretching out the mighty arms which he had just reheved, " which of your caitiffs could have carried it better ! " A httle later the pair are at Annan, awaken-

N 2

ISO Tin: I5RIDAL HOLIDAY.

ing in tlio lionrts of young ncpliows :nul iiirci^s llicro tlioir earliest reeolleetions oi' |)l('asiirc and jubilee. Irving was not preaeliing, so far as there is any record ; lie was idling and enji>ying himself; and, with hiui, these words meant making otlu'rs enjoy themselves, and leaving ccliocs of holitiay everywhere. So late as the beginniniT of November he was still in Scotland — in Glasixow. — where Dr. Chalmers, at the heirrhl. of his splendid social experiments, and in \'\\\\ possession of his unrivalled intlucnce, a kind (»!' prince-bishop in that great and difficult town, had felt his strength fail, and — yielding to a natural distaste for the atmosphere in which, not following his own inclinations, except in the fashion of his work, he had laboured for years — had resigned his great position for the modest tranquillity of a professor's chair in St. Andrew's, and was just taking leave of the people over whom he had held so w^onderful a sway. There L'\'ing went to listen to the last sermon of his master in the ministry. The situa- tion is a remarkable one. He was again to take part in the services in that place where he had filled, loyally, yet with many commotions and wistful dis- , satisfaction in his mind, a secondary place, so short a time before. A world of dilTerence lay in the year of time which had passed sinccj then. Chalmers liimself had not turned the head of any community, as his former assistant had tumed tlie nniltitiidinous heads of Lcjndon. Tlie man who had gone away from them, forlorn and brave, upon an expedition more like that of a forlorn hope than an enterprise justified by ordinary wisdom, had come back with all the laurels of sudden fame, a conqueror and hero. Yet here,

RE-AI'PEARANCE IN ST. JOHN S. 181

again lie stood, so entii'ely in his old place that one can suppose the brilliant interval must have looked like a dream to Irving as he gazed upon the crowd of familiar faces, and saw himself lost and forgotten, as of old, in the absorbing interest with which everybody turned to the great leader, under whom they had hved and laboured. Had he been the egotist he was called, or had he come in any vain-glorious hope of con- founding those who did not discover his greatness, he would have chosen another moment to visit Glasgow. But he came in the simplicity of his heart to stand by his friend at a solemn moment, as his friend had stood by him ; to hear the last sermon, and offer the last good wishes.

This momentary conjunction of these two remarkable men makes a picture pleasant to dwell on. Both had now separated their names from that busy place ; the elder and greater to retfre into the noiseless seclusion, or rather into the Httle social " circles " and coteries of a limited society, and the class-rooms of a science that was not even theological ; the younger, the secondary and overlooked, to a position much more in the eye of the world, more dazzling, giddy, and glorious than the pulpit of St. John's, even while Chalmers occu- pied it, could ever have been. At this last farewell moment they stood as if that year, so wonderful to one of them, had never been ; and Irving, Hke a true man, stepped back out of his elevation, and took loyally his old secondary place. " When Dr. Chalmers left the pulpit, after preaching his farewell sermon," says Dr. Hanna, his biographer, "it was en- tered by the Eev. Edward Irving, who invited the vast

182 RETURN* TO LONDOX.

congi'cgation to accompany liim, as with solemn pomp and impressive unction he poured out a prayer lor tliat lionoured nunister of God who luid just retired from among them." Tliis niomcnlary appearance in tliat familial" pulpit, not to display the eloquence which had made him famous since he last stood in it, but simply to crown with prayers and blessings the farewell of liis friend, is the most graceful and touclung conclusion which could have been given to Irving's connection witli Glasgow ; or at least — since after events have linked his memoiy for ever with that of this great and wealthy town — with the congregation of St. John's.

The newly-married pair travelled to London by the paternal liouse in Annan. Accompanied by some of their relations from thence, they posted to Carhsle, the modem conveniences of travel beino; then undreamt of. When they were about to cross the Sark, the Kttle stream which at that point divides Scotland from England, Irving, with a pleasant bridegroom fancy, made liis young wife aliglit and walk over the bridge into the new country, which henceforward was to be her home. So this idylhc journey comes to an end. After the bridge of Sark and its moorland land- scape, we see no more of the travellers till they re- appear in the bustle of London, where idylls have no existence.

His marriage leisure had probably been prolonged in consequence of his health having suffered a little from the great labours and excitement of the past year. Just before starting for Scotland, he had written to this purport to his friend David Ilope, who had consulted him what memorial should Ijc raised to their old

PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION OP THE ORATIONS. 183

sclioolmaster, Adam Hope, the master of Aimaii Academy. He writes : —

" I have been unwell, and living in the country, and not able to attend to yonr request, but I propose that we should erect a monument, when I will myself compose elegies in the various tongues our dear and venerable preceptor taught, — all which I shall concoct with you when I come to Scotland. Tell G-raham, and all my friends," he adds, " if they knew what a battle I am fighting for the cause, and what a single- handed contest I have to maintain, they would forgive my apparent neglect. Every day is to me a day of severe occu- pation — I have no idleness. All my leisure is refreshment for new labour. Yet am I happy, and now, thank God, well — and this moment I snatch in the midst of study."

His marriage and its attendant travels happily interrupted this over-occupation, and he seems to have returned to London with new fire, ready to re-enter the hsts, and show no mercy upon the assailants who had now made him for several months a mark for all their arrows. He took his bride to the home which had been for some time prepared for her, and which, for the information of the curious, was No. 7 ui Myddelton Terrace, Pentonville.

His first occupation — or at least one of the first things which occupied him after his return — must have been the third edition of his Orations and Argument, ^vith the characteristic preface which he prefixed to it. The critics Avho assailed him must have been pretty well aware beforehand, from all he had said and written, that Irving was not a man to be overawed by any strictures that could be made upon him. When in the heat and haste of the moment, one edition pursuing another through the press, and one blow after another

184 Ills DKDll ATIOXS AND rUKFACKS C.KNKUAIJ.V.

riiiirinsT on liis i?liiel(l, tlie orator seized liis llaminsj^ pen and wrote delianee to all his opponents, it is not dillieidt to imagine the kind of produetion which must have flashed from tliat pen of Irving. Allowing that an author's reply to criticism is alwaj's a mist^ikeii niid iinpnukMit j^ro- ceediug, and that L'ving's contempt antl delianee are not written in jieifect t(Ute (angry as the expression would liave made liim) or charity, yet we should have been sorry not to have liad the daring onslaught upon these troublesome skirmishers of literature, from whose stings, alas, neither greatness nor smallness can defend the un- fortunate wayfarer ; and the dignified vindication of his 0"svn style and diction, which is as noble and modest a profession of literary allegiance as can be found any- where. " I have been accused of affecting the antiquated manner of ages and times now forgotten," he says in his defence. " The wTiters of those times are too much for- gotten, I lament, and their style of writmg hath fallen out of ase ; but the tune is fast approaching when this stigma shall be wiped away fi'om our prose, as it is fast departing from our poetry. I fear not to confess that Hooke and Taylor and Baxter, in Theology; Bacon and Newton and Locke, in Philosophy, have been my companions, a,s Shakspeare and Spenser and Milton have been in poetr}'. I caimot learn to think as they have done, which is the gift of God ; but I can teach myself to think as disinterestedly, and to express as honestly, what I think and feel. WHiich I have, in the strength of God, endeavoured to do." Wliat he said of his critics is naturally much less dignified ; but in spite of a few epithets, which were much more current in those days than now, the whole of this preface, much

MR. BASIL MONTAGU. 185

unlike ordinary prefaces, which authors go on writing with an amazin^ innocent faith in the attention of the pubhc, and which few people ever dream of looking at, is one of the most eloquent and characteristic portions of the volume. Lideed, I know scarcely any volume of Irving's works of which this might not be said. In his dedications and prefaces, he carries on a kind of rapid autobiography, and takes his reader mto his heart and confidence, in those singular addresses, in a manner, so far as I am aware, quite imprecedented hi hterature.

He was now fidly launched upon the exciting and rapid course of London life — a life which permits little leisiu-e and less tranquilhty to those embarked upon it. One of his earhest acquaintances was ]\ir. Basil Montagu — the gentleman described by the Times as " preaching peace and resignation from a window " to the disappointed multitude who could find no en- trance into the Caledonian chm^ch. In ]\Ir. Montagu's hospitable house Irving found the kindest reception and the most congenial society ; and even more than these, found consolation and guidance, when first excited and then disgusted, according to a very natural and oft- repeated process, with the blandishments of society, and the coldness of those rehgious circles which admit nobody who does not come with certificates of theo- logical soundness and propriety in his hand. In dedi- cating a volume of sermons to ]\Ir. Montagu and his wife, some years after, he thus describes his state and circumstances in his first encounter with that wonder- fid Circe, from whose fascinations few men escape unharmed : —

186 IIJVIXC S GUATKri'L ACKNOWLEDfiMKNTS.

"Wlioii the Lord, to serve liis own ends, advanced me, from the knowU-dge of my own flock and the private walks of pastoral iluty, to become a preacher of righteousness to this great city, and I may say kingdom, — to the princes, and the nobles, and the counsellors of this great empire, whom He brought to hear me, — I became also an object of attack to the malice and artifice of Satan, being tenijjtcd on the one hand to murmur because of the distance at wliich I was held from the affections of my evangelical brethren, whom I had never persecuted like Saul of Tarsus, but too much loved, even to idolatry ; and on the other hand being tempted to go forth, in the earnest simplicity of my heart, into those high and noble circles of society which were then open to me, and which must either have engulfed me by their enormous attractions, or else repelled my simple affections, shattered and befooled, to become the mockery and contempt of every envious and disappointed railer. At such a perilous moment the Lord in you found for me a ]\Ientor, both to soothe my heart, vexed with cold and uncharitable suspicions, and to preserve my feet from the snares that were around my path. . . . And seeing it hath pleased God to make your acquaintance first, and then your imwearied and disinterested kindness, and now, I trust, your true friendship, most helpful to my weakness, as well in leading me to observe more diligently the forms and aspects of human life, and to com- prehend more widely the ways of God's providence with men, as in sustaining me with your good counsel and sweet fellow- ship against the cold dislike and uncharitable suspicion of the religious, and preserving me from the snares of the irreligious world, I do feel it incumbent upon me, as a duty to God, and pleasant to me as a testimony of gratitude and love to you, to prefix your honoured names to this Discourse, which chiefly concemeth the intermediate question of the soil on which the seed of truth is sown, wherein I feel that your intercourse has been especially profitable to my mind. For while I must ever confess myself to be more beholden to our sage friend, Mr. Coleridge (whose acquaintance and friendship I owe likewise to you), than to all men besides, for the knowledge of the truth itself as it is in Jesus, I freely confess myself to be much your debtor for the knowledge

HIS EARLY DANGERS IN SOCIETY. 187

of those forms of the natural mind and of the actual existing world with which the minister of truth hath in the first instance to do, and into the soil of which the seed of truth is to be cast. Your much acquaintance, worthy sir, and your much conversation of the sages of other days, and especially the fathers of the English Church and literature, and your endeavours to hold them up unto all whom you honour with your confidence ; your exquisite feeling, dear and honoured Madam, of whatever is just and beautiful, whether in the idea or in the truth of things, and your faithfulness in holding it up to the view of your friends, together with the delicate skill and consummate grace with which you express it in words and embody it in acts, — these things, my dear and honoured friends, working insensibly during several years' continuance of a very intimate friendship and very confiden- tial interchange of thought and feeling, have, I perceive, produced in me many of those views of men and things which are expressed in the following Discourse, concerning that question of the several soils into which the seed of truth is cast — a question which I confess that I had very much in time past overlooked."

I make this lonsr and interestino- extract out of its chronological place, as the best means I have of showing at once the temper of Irving's mind and the circum- stances in which he stood at his outset in London ; — on one side, religious people, shy of Mm at first, as of a man who used a freedom in speech and in thought un- known to ordinary preachers, or authors of published sermons — and afterwards affronted and angry at his bold, simple-minded declaration that they had lost or forgotten the way to proclaim the truth they held ; and, on the other, society of a more dazzhng kind and with profounder attractions than any he had yet met with — society such that men of genius continuaUy lose their head, and sometimes break their heart in seeking it.

188 DKDrttKD iSl^LAUK.

Tlu' position in wliirh lie lluis lound hinise'lf wms, indeed, enongh to conrnse ;i man always eager lor love and frieudsliip, and ready to trust all tlie world. L^'ing, fi'esli from tlie simpler circumstances of life in Scotland, charmed witli lli;il >ul)tle almosjiliere of re- finement and high breeding ^vliicli seems at the hrst breath to the unuistructed genius the very embodiment of his dreams, stood upon that dangerous point between, repelled from one side, attracted to the other, under- staudiiiff neither thoroughly — wavcrinc!; and doubtful at the edge of the precipice. That he had a friend qualified to point out to him the danger on both sides, and that he was wise enough to accept that teaching, was a matter for which he might well be grateful. Mr. Montagu drew him to his own house, brought him into a circle above ftishion, yet without its dangerous seductions, introduced him to Coleridge and many other notable men. And Irving, brought into the warm and affec- tionate mtercourse of such a household, and assisted, moreover, by that glamour which always remained in his own eyes and elevated eveiything he saw, learned to gain that acquaintance with men — men iA tJje hifdiest type — men of a class with whicli iiitherto he liad been unfamihar, in which the hereditary culture; of generations had culminated, and which, full of thought and ripened knowledge, was not to be moved by gene- ralities— which he could not have learned either in his secondary rank of scholarship in Edinburgh, nor among the merchants of Glasgow. He saw, but in the best and most advantageous way, what every thoughtful mind, which lives long enough,is brought to see something of — how deeply nature has to do with all the revolutions of

COLERIDGE. 189

the soul ; how men are of an individuahty all unthoiight of; and how mighty an agent, beyond all mights of education or training, is constitutional character. In Mr. Montagu's house he saw " the soil " in many a rich and fruitfiil variation, and came to know how, by the most diverse and different paths, the same end may be attained. If his natural impatience of everything con- tracted, mean, and narrow-minded gained force in this society, it is not a surprising result. But he had always been sufficiently ready to contemn and scorn common- place boundaries. His friends in Bedford Square, and their friends, taught him to appreciate more thoroughly the unities and diversities of man.

Scarcely any record remains of the intercourse which existed between Irving and Coleridge, an intercourse which was begun, as has just been seen, by Mr. Mon- tagu. It lasted for years, and was full of kindness on the part of the philosopher, and of reverential respect on that of Irving, who, following the natural instinct of his own ingenuous nature, changed m an instant, in such a presence, from the orator who, speaking in God's name, assumed a certain austere pomp of position — more like an authoritative priest than a simple Pres- byter— into the simple and candid hstener, more ready to learn than he was to teach, and to consider the thoughts of another than to propound his own. No- thing, indeed, can be more remarkable, more unhke the opinion many people have formed of him, or more true to his real character, than the fact, very clearly revealed by all the dedicatory addresses to which we have referred, that in his own consciousness he was always learning ; and not only so, but with the

!90 HIS IXFLUENCK ON Till: \ IKWS OF lUVlXO.

Utmost simplioity and frankness acknowlcdginnr -vvliat 1k' luul loarned. ll" imagination liad anytliing to do witli this serious and sad liistory, it would not be diflicult to })icture tliose two ligiu'es, so wonderfully different, looking down from the soft llighgate slopes upon tliat uneasy world heucath, whieh, to one of ihem, was but a great field of study, proving, as never :niy collection of human creatures proved before, all the grievous but great conclusions of ])hilosophy ; while to the other, it raged with all the incessant conflict of a field of battle, dread agony of life and death, through which his own cry " to the rescue ! " was continually rinirinc, and his own hand snatching forth from under tranipUng feet the wounded and the fallen. Here Irving changed the common su])erri('ial idea of the world's conversion — that behef cahuly held or ear- nestly insisted on in the face of acknowledged disap- pointment in many missionary efforts, and the slowness and lingering issues of even the most succcssfid, which is common to most churches. "Tliat error," as he himself says, "under which almost the whole of the Church is lying, that the present world is to be converted unto the Lord, and so slide by a natural inclination into the Church — the present reign of Satan hastening, of its own accord, into the millennial reigu of Christ." For this doctrine he learned to substitute the idea of a dispensation drawing towards its close, and — its natural consequence in a mind so full of love to God and man — of an altogether glorious and over- whelming revolution yet to come, in which all the dead society, churches, kingdoms, fashions of this world, galvanically kept in motion until the end, should Ije

SOCIAL CHAEITIES. 191

finally burned up and destroyed. Whether this de- velopment of wistful and anxious faith, and the " de- liverance " conveyed by it ; or whether that more subtle view of the ancient and much-assailed Calvinistic doc- trine of election, which sets forth God's message and messengers as specially addressed to " the worthy," and universally received by them wherever the message is heard — was the substance of what the preacher learned from the poet-philosopher, there is no information. The prodigal thanks with which the teaching was re- ceived, given out of the fulness of a heart always ready to exaggerate the benefits conferred upon it, is almost the only distinct record of what passed between them. Such was his society and occupations when he re- turned with the companion of his hfe from Scotland. He brought his wife into a house in which the tumult of London was perpetually heard ; not into a quiet ecclesiastical society, like that which generally falls to the lot of the wives of Scotch ministers, but to a much- disturbed dwelling-place, constantly assailed by visitors, and invaded by agitations of the world. Among all the other excitements of popularity, there came also the pleasant excitement of a new church about to be built, of size proportioned to the necessities of the case. The same crowds and commotion still surrounded the Cale- donian chapel, but they became more bearable in the prospect of more roomy quarters. An unfaihng suc- cession of private as well as pubHc calls upon the kind- ness, help, and hospitality of a man whom everybody beheved in, and who proffered kindness to all, helped to increase the incessant motion and activity of that full and um'esting life. Thus within eighteen months after

192 A SIMTLE rRKSBYTEH.

his arrival in TiOndoii luid the Scotcli preacher won the frieiulslii]) of many, not sjiecially open to members of his profession ami ehureh, and made himself a centre of personal beneficences not to be counted. If ever pride can be justified, Edwai-d Trvinsj!' miixht have been justified in a passing tlirill of lliat cxukaliuu w\\r\\ lie brought his Avifc from llie (juieL manse which all along liad looked on and watched his career, not sure how far its daughter's future was saf(> in the ha)ids of a man so often foiled, yet so unsubduable, to place her in a position and society which few clergymen of his church have ever attained, and indeed which few men in any church, liowever titled or dignified, could equal. The peculiarity of his position lay in the fact that this singular elevation beloncjed to himself, and not to his rank, whicli -was not susceptible of change. That his influence was extended, a thousand- fold, with httle addition to his means, and none to his station, and that while he moved amono; men of the hitrhest intel- lect and position, neither his transcendent popularity nor his acknowledged genius ever changed that primi- tive standi ng-gn-ound of priest and pastor wliich he always held with primitive tenacity. The charm of that conjunction is one which the most worldly mind of man cannot refuse to appreciate ; and perhaps it is only on the members of a church which owns no possibihty of promotion, that such a deUcate and vision- ary though real rank could by common verdict be bestowed.

193

CHArTER IX.

1824.

The year 1824 began with no diminution of those incessant labours. It is wonderful how a man of so great a frame, and of out-of-door tendencies so strong and long cherished, should have been able to bear, as Irvuig did, confinement in one of the most town-like and closely-inhabited regions of London. In Penton- ville, indeed, faint breaths of country air might at that period be supposed to breathe along the tidy, genteel streets; but in Bloomsbury, where many of Irving's friends resided, or in the dusty ranges of Holborn, where his church was, no such refreshment can have been practicable. Nor had the Presbyterian minister any rehef from curates, or assistance of any kind. His entire pulpit services — and, according to his own con- fession, his sermons averaged an hour and a quarter in length — his prayers, as much exercises of the intellect as of the heart, came from his own hps and mind, un- aided by the intervention of any other man; and besides his Hterary labours, and the incessant demands which his great reputation brought upon him, he had all the pastoral cares of his own large congregation to attend to, and was ready at the call of the sick, the friendless, and the stranger, whensoever they addressed him. That

VOL. I. 0

104 FAILrill-: OF IIKALTII.

tliis ovorwlielniing amount of work, combined as it wa:? witli all the excitement inseparable from the poi^ition of a popular preacher — a preacher so popular as to liave his church besieged every da)^ it was 0})ened — should tell uj)on his strength, was to be exjiected; and accordinLrly we fmd him writing in the followinii tenns to I^Ii'. Collins of Glasgow, the publisher, who had taken a large share in Dr. Chalmers's parochial work in St. John's, and was one of Irving's steady friends. Some time before he had imdertaken to write a ])reitice to a new edition of the works of Bernard Gilpin, which is the matter referred to: —

«' 7 Middleton Terrace, 24tli February, 1824.

' My dear Mr. Collins, — I pray you not for a moment to imagine that I have any other intention, so long as God gives me strength, than to fulfil my promise faithfully. I am at present worked beyond my strength, and you know that is not inconsiderable. iMy head ! my head ! I may say with the Shunamite's child. If I care not for it, the world will soon cease to care for me and I for the world. If you saw me many a night unable to pray with my wife, and forced to have recourse to forms of prayer, you would at once discover what hath caused my delay. I have no resource if I throw myself up, and a tiioasand enemies wait for my stumbling and fall.

" I am now better, and this week had set to rise at six o'clock and finish it, but I have not been able. Next week I shall make the attempt again and again, till I succeed ; for upon no account, and for no sake, will I touch or undertake aught until I have fulfilled my promise in respect to Gilpin. But one thing I will say, that I must not be content with the preface of a sermon or patches of a sermon. The subject is too important — too many eyes are upon me — and the interests of religion are too much in warped in certain places with my cliaracter and writing, that I should not do my best.

"The Lord bless you and all his true servants.

" Your faithful friend,

" Edward Irving."

DETEEMINATIOX TO DO HIS WORK THOROUGHLY. 195

This conscientious determination to do nothing im- perfectly is, amid all the exaltation and excitement of Irving's position, no small testimony to his steadiness and devout modesty. Adulation had not been able to convince him that his name was sufficient to give credit to careless writing, nor had the vehement and glowhig genius, now fully enfranchised and acknow- ledged, learned to consider itself mdependent of industry and painstaking labours. He had learned what criticism awaited everything he wrote ; and even while he re- taliated manfully, was doubtless warned in minor matters by the storm just then passing over, which had been raised by his former pubUcation.

His next point of contact ^\dth the astonished and critical world, which watched for a false step on his part, and was ready to pounce upon anything, from an im- perfect or complicated metaphor to an unsound doctrine, occurred in the May of this year, when he had been selected to preach one of the anniversary sermons of the London Missionary Society. The invitation to do this was presumed to be a comphment to Irving, and voucher of his popularity, as well as a prudent enhst- ment of the " highest talent," to give attraction to the yearly solemnity of the Society. Had the London com- mittee been wise they would scarcely have chosen so daring and original an orator to celebrate their anni- versary ; since L?ving w^as exactly the man whose opinions or sentiments on such a topic were not to be rashly predicated. The prehmmaries of this discourse, as afterwards described by himself, were not such as generally usher in a missionary sermon. Listead of reading up the records of the society, and making care-

o 2

liHi rUia'AUKS to WKITI: a Mlij.'slO.NAIIY SOCIKTY OIIATIO.V

fill note of the cniisos for congnitulatioii ;iiul Iminility, as it would have been correct to have clone — instead of laying u[) materials for a glowing account of its ])ro- grei« and panegyric upon it:? missionaries, Ii-ving's pre- parations ran in the following extraordinary channel: —

"Having lieen requested hy the London Missionary Society," he writes, " to preach upon the occasion of their last anni- versary, I wilhngly complied, without much thought of what I was undertaking; but when I came to reflect upon the sacredness and importance of the cause given into my hands, and the dignity of the audience before which I had to dis- course, it seemed to my conscience that I had undertaken a duty full of peril and responsibility, for whicli T ought to prepare myself wath every preparation of the mind and of the spirit. To this end, retiring into the quiet and peaceful country, among a society of men devoted to every good and cliaritable work, I searched the Scriptures in secret; and in their pious companies conversed of the convictions which were secretly brought to my mind concerning the missionary work. And thus, not without much prayer to God and self- devotion, I meditated those things which I delivered in public Ijefore the reverend and pious men who had honoured me with so great a trust."

It may easily be supposed that a discourse, thus pre- meditated and composed by a man whose youth was full of missionary projects, such as no practical nine- teenth century judgment could designate otherwise than as the wildest romance, was not likely to come to such a sermon as should content the London or any other Missionary Society. It was not an exposition of the character of a missionary, as apprehended by an heroic mind, capable of the labours it described, whicli had been either wished or requested. But the directors of the Society, having rashly tackled with a man occupied, Dot with their most laudable pursuits and interests, but

" FOR MISSIOXARIES AFTEE THE APOSTOLICAL SCHOOL." 197

with the abstract truth, had to pay the inevitable penahy. The day came. In preparation for a great audience the chapel in Tottenham Court Eoad, once known as the Tabernacle, and built for Wliitfield, was selected. The day was wet and dreary, but the im- mense building was crowded long before the hour of meeting, many finding it impossible to get admittance. So early was the congregation assembled, that to keep so vast a throng occupied, the officials considered it wise to begin the prehminary services a full hour before the time appointed. Wlien the preacher ap- peared at last, his discourse was so long that he had to pause, according to the primitive custom of Scotland, twice during its course, the congregation in the intervals singing some verses of a hymn. One of the hearers on that occasion tells that, for three hours and a half, he, only a youth, and though a fervent admirer of the orator, still susceptible to fatigue, sat jammed in and helpless near the pulpit, unable to extricate himself All this might have but added to the triumph ; and even so early in his career it seems to have been under- stood of Irving, that the necessity of coming to an end did not occur to him, and that not the hour, but the subject, timed his addresses, so that his audience were partly warned of what they had to look for. But the oration which burst upon their astonished ears was quite a different matter. It had no connection with the London Missionary Society. It was the ideal missionary — the Apostle lost behind the veil of centmies — the Evangelist, commissioned of God, who had risen out of Scriptm'e and the primeval ages upon the gaze of the preacher. He discoursed to the startled throng,

198 THE WAXDERINO APOSTLE.

met there to bo asked for suhscriptioiis — to htive their interest stiniulateil in tlie regukitions of the committee, ami tlieir eyes directed towards its wortliy and respect- able representatives, each drawing a little congregation about liim in some corner of the earth — of a man with- out stiifT or scriji, witliout banker or provision, abiding with whomsoever would receive him, speaking in haste his burning message, pressmg on without pause or rest through the world that lay in wickedness — an Apostle responsible to no man — a messenger of the cross. The intense reaUty natural to one who had all but em1)raccd that austere martjT vocation in his own person, gave force to the picture he di'ew. There can be little doubt that it was foolishness to most of his hearers, and that, after the fascination of his eloquence was over, nine- tenths of them would recollect, with utter wonder, or even with possible contempt, that wildest visionaiy con- ception. But that it was true for him, nobody, I think, who has followed his course thus far, will be disposed either to doubt or to deny.

The ^vildest hubl^ub rose, Vs was natural, after this extraordinary utterance. It would not liave been wonderful if the irritated London Society, balked at once of its triumph, and the advantage to be derived from a wise advocacy of its cause, had set down this unlooked-for address as a direct piece of antagonism and premeditated injury. I am not aware that any- body ever did so ; but I allow that it might have been alleged with some show of justice. To judge of Ining's course on this occasion by mere ordinary laws of human action, it would not be very difficult to make out that somehow, piqued or affronted by the Society,

CONSTEKNATION OF THE AUDIENCE. 199

or at least disapproving of it while pretending to serve it, he had taken ojDportunity of the occasion, and done his best to place it in a false position before its friends and supporters. The fact was as different as can well be conceived. Eesolute to give them of his best, as he himself describes, and judging the " reverend and pious men " whom he was about to address, as free to follow out the truth as himself, the conscientious, simple- minded preacher went down to the depths of his subject, and, all forgetful of committees and rules of " practical usefuhiess," set before them the impossible missionary — the man not trained in any college or by any method yet invented — the man the speaker himself could and would have been, but for what he considered the interposition of Providence. The amazed and doubtful silence, the unwilhng fascination with which they must have hstened through these inevitable hours to that visionary in his visionary description — watcliing in impatience and helpless indignation while the wild but subhme picture of a man who certainly could not be identified among their own excellent but unsubhme messengers, rose before the multitudinous audience in which, a little while before, official eyes must have re- joiced over a host of new subscribers, — all, alas ! meltmg away under the eloquence of this splendid Malaprop, — may be easily imagined. One can fancy what a rehef the end of this discourse must have been to the pent-up wrath and dismay of the missionary committee ; and indeed it is impossible not to sympa- tliize with them in their unlooked-for discomfiture.

In the meantime, preoccupied and lost in the con- templation of that most true, yet most impossible ser-

2iK» wuATii oi' Tin: im;i.I(;iol\s would.

vant of God, wlioiii hv bad evoked from the jiast and the future to which all thiui^s arc possible, L'ving, all unaware of the commotion he had caused, went on liis way, not dreaming that anybody could suppose the present niachineiy and economics of common-i)lace missionaiy work injured l>y llial hiu:li vision of the perfection of a character which has been, and which yet may be agaui. lie says, he " was prepared to resist any application which might possibly be made to me " to publish liis sermon ; an entirely urniecessary precau- tion, since the complacency of the London Society evidently did not carry them the length of paying the preacher of so unwelcome an address that customary comphment. But in the commotion that followed — in the vexation and WTath of " the rehgious world," and the astonished outcry of eveiybody connected with missions, the preacher, not less astonished than themselves, disco- vered that his doctrine was new, and unwelcome to the reverend and pious men for whose hearing he had so carefully prepared it. A\nien he heard his high con- ception of the missionaiy character denounced as an ill-timed rhetorical display — and that which he had devoutly drawn from the only inspired picture of such messengers characterised as not only visionary and wild, but an imphed hbel upon their present representatives, liis sincere heart was roused and startled. He went back to his New Testament, the only store of informa- tion he knew of. He drew forth Paul and Barnabas, Peter and John, first missionaries, apostles sent of God. The longer he pondered over them the more his pic- ture rose and expanded. Was not Llie errand the same, the promise of God the same ? — and why should the

A MAKTYE-MISSIONARY. 201

character of the mdividual be so clifTerent? The natural result followed : confirmed by farther examina- tion, and strengthened by opposition, the sermon en- larged, and grew into an appeal to the world. Pity, always one of the strongest principles in his soul, came in to quicken his action. A missionary in Demerara, who had apostolically occupied himself in the instruc- tion of slaves, had been arrested by an arbitrary planter-legislation, upon some outbreak of the negroes, on the false and cruel charge of havuig incited them to insurrection, and had been actually, by Enghshmen, found guilty, and sentenced to death in consequence. The sentence was not carried out, fortunately for those who pronounced it; but the unfortimate missionary, already ill, and savagely incarcerated, died a martyr to the cruelty which had not yet dared to bring him to the scaffold. The case, an ugly precedent to other cases in another country, which we find ourselves now at full hberty to stigmatise as they deserve, awoke the horror and compassion of England ; and when the forlorn widow returned home, Irving, eager to show his sym- pathy and compassion, and finding the name of a mis- sionary martyr most fit to be connected with his picture of the missionary character, came once more before the world with the obnoxious discourse, which liis first hearers had not asked him to print.

" Being unable in any other way," he says, " to testify my sense of his injuries, and my feeling of the duty of the Chris- tian Church to support his widow, I resolved that I would do so by devoting to her use this fruit of my heart and spirit. Thus moved, I gave notice that I would pubhsh the discourse, and give the proceeds of the sale into her hands. Wlien again I came to meditate upon this second engagement which

201 rriJLICATlON oy TIIH OltATlOX.

I had como undor, and took into consideration tlio novelty of the doctrine which I was about to promnli^ate, I set myself to examine the wliole subject anew, and opened my ear to every objection which I cimlii liear from any quarter, nothing repelled by the uncharitable coustrtictions and ridiculous account which was often rendered of my views ; the effect of which was, to convince me that the doctrine which I had advanced w;us true, but of so novel and unpalatal)le a charac- ter, that if it was to do any good, or even to live, it must be l>rought ])efore the public with a more minute investigation of the Scriptures, and fuller development of reason, than could be contained w^itliin the compass of a single discourse. To give it this more convincing and more living form was the occupation of my little leisure from pastoral and minis- terial duties, rendered still less during the summer montlis by the indifference of my bodily health ; and it was not until the few weeks of rest and recreation which I enjoyed in the autumn that I was able to perceive the true form and full extent of the argument which is necessary to make good my position."

As this is the first point upon which Irving fairly parted company with liis evangehcal l)ret]iren, and exasperated that large, active, and influential commu- nity which, as he somewhere says, not without a little bitterness, " calls itself the religious world ;" and as it discloses \\4th singidar force the temper and constitu- tion of his mind, I may be permitted to enter into it more fully than one of his shortest and least complete puljlications might seem to deserve. He himself ex- plains, in a very noble and elevated strain, the manner in which he was led to consider the character of the gospel missionary. lie was present at one of tlie great missionary meetings in the metropolis, those meetings with which aU the British pubhc have more or less acquaintance, and which ajUect audiences as wealthy, an devout, and as estimable as can be found anywhere,

AN EXETEE HALL MEETING. 203

yet which are, as everybody must allow, and as many uneasily feel, as unhke apostohcal conferences as can well be imagined. In such an assembly, " where the heads and leaders of the religious world were present," a speaker, whose name Irving does not mention, expressed himself amid great applause in the following manner : — " If I were asked what was the first quahfication for a missionary, I would say. Prudence; and what the second? Prudence, and what the third? still I would answer, Pru- dence." The effect wliich such a statement was hke to have upon one listener, at least, in the assembly, may well be imagined. Startled and disgusted, he went away, not to examine into the memoirs of missionaries, or the balance sheets of societies, but into the primitive mis- sion and its regulations. He finds that faith, and not prudence, is the apostolic rule. He finds that rehgious faith alone has the prerogative of withstanding "this evil bent of prudence to become the death of all ideal and invisible things, whether poetry, sentiment, heroism, dis- interestedness, or faith." He finds that the visionary soul of good, which in other matters is opposed to and conquered by the real, is in faith alone unconquerable, the essence of its nature. He then touches upon the only particular in which the early mission differs from the mission in aU ages, the power of working miracles, and asks whether the lack of this faculty makes an entire change of method and procedure necessary? With lofty indignation he adds the conclusion which has been arrived at by the rehgious world : —

" The consistency of the Christian doctrine with everlasting truth is nothing ; the more than chivalrous, the divine intre- pidity and disinterestedness of its teachers is nothing ; the

•J04 rUOTCST AG.UNST TllE MAC'IllNKKY OF EVANGELISM.

response of every conscience to the word of the preacher is nothing: the promise of God's Spirit is nothing; it is all to he resolved hy the visible work, the outward show of a miracle. . . . The Gospel owed its success in the first ages wholly to this, or to this almost wholly ; hut for us, we must accommodate ourselves to the absence of these super- natural means, and go about the work in a reasonable, prudent way, if we would succeed in it ; calculate it as the merchant does an adventure ; set it forth as the statesman does a colony ; raise the ways and means within the year, and expend them within the year ; and so go on as long as we can get our accounts to balance."

Tills conclusion the preacher then sets himself to overthrow, by propounding the character of the " 'Mis- sionary after the apostohc school," which, although pre- faced with due acknowledgment of "the high and seated dignity which this Society hath attained in the judgment of the Christian Church, and the weighty and well-earned reputation which it hath obtained, not in Christendom alone, but over the widest bounds of the habitable earth," was mdisputably contrary to the very idea of missions, as held and carried on by such societies. Only the first part of a work, intended to be completed in four parts, was given to the world, the mind of the preacher being more deeply engrossed from day to day in that law of God whicli was his meditation day and night, and directed ever to new unfolding of doctrine and iiistruction. Tliis pubhcation was dedi- cated to Samuel Taylor Coleridge, in the remarkable letter which follows.

"My dear and honocred P'riend, — Unknown as you are in the true character of your mind or your heart to the greater part of your countrymen, and misrepresented as your

DEDICATION TO COLERIDGE, 205

works have been by those who have the ear of the vulgar, it will seem wonderful to many that I should make choice of you from the circle of my friends, to dedicate to you these beginnings of my thoughts upon the most important subject of these or any times ; and when I state the reason to be, that you have been more profitable to my faith in orthodox doc- trine, to my spiritual understanding of the Word of God, and to my right conception of the Christian Church than any or all the men with whom I have entertained friendship and conversation, it will, perhaps, still more astonish the mind, and stagger the belief of those who have adopted, as once I did myself, the misrepresentations which are purchased for a hire and vended for a price, concerning your character and works. ... I have partaken so much high intellectual enjoy- ment from being admitted into the close and familiar inter- course with which you have honoured me ; and your many conversations concerning the revelations of the Christian faith have been so profitable to me in every sense, as a student and preacher of the gospel ; as a spiritual man and a Christian pastor ; and your high intelligence and great learning have at all times so kindly stooped to my ignorance and inexperi- ence, that not merely with the affection of friend to friend, and the honour due from youth to experienced age, but with the gratitude of a disciple to a wise and generous teacher, of an anxious inquirer to the good man who hath helped him in the way of truth, I do presume to offer you the first fruits of my mind since it received a new impulse towards truth, and a new insight into its depths from listening to your dis- course. Accept them in good part, and be assured that, however insignificant in themselves, they are the offerino- of a heart which loves your heart, and of a mind which looks up with reverence to your mind.

"Edwaed Ieving."

These lavisli thanks, bestowed with a rash prodi- gality, which men of less generous and effusive tem- perament could never be brought to understand, were, according to all ordinary rules of reason, profoundly

206 LAVISH ACKX0W1.1-DGMKXTS.

inipnulont. To put siicli n unino as lliat of Coleridge*, under any ciivunistances, on a woik ^vlli(•ll its autlior wjv< already a.ssured would be examined with tlie most eager and angry jealousy, and in which a great many of his religious contemporaries would but too gladly find some suspicious tendency, was of itself imjirudcnt. But so, I fear, waa the man to whom giving of thanks and rendering of acknowledgments was always jojrfully confrenial. It was not in his nature either to ffuard himself from the suspicion of having received more than he really had received, or to provide against the danger of connecting himself openly with all whom he loved or honoured.

This pubhcation was received with shouts of angry criticism from all sides, and called forth an Expostida- tory Letter from j\Ii'. W. Orme, the secretary of the outraged ^Missionary Society. This letter is exactly such a letter as the secretary of a missionary society, suddenly put upon its defence, would l)e likely to write, full of summar}" applications of the argumentum ad homiiiem, and much pious indignation. Between the preacher and his assailant it would be altogether im- possil^le to decide ; they were concerned with questions

• In Leigh Hunt's correspondence, published since the above was written, occurs the following notice of this dedication in a letter from Charles Lamb : " I have got acquainted with Mr. Irving, the Scotch preacher, whose lame must have reached you. Judge how his own Bectarists must stare when I tell you he has dedicated a book to S. T. C, acknowledging to have learnt more from him than from all the men he ever conversed with. He is a most amiable, sincere, modest man in a room, this Boanerges in the temple. Mrs. Montii- gu told him the dedication would do him no good, ' That shall be a rea-son for doing it,' was his answer." The kind Elia adds, " Judge, now, whether this man be a quack."

COLDNESS AND ESTRANGEMENT. 207

in reality quite distinct, though in name the same ; the one regarding the matter as an individual man, capable of all the labour and self-denial he described, might reasonably regard it ; the other looking upon it with the troubled eyes of a society, whose business it was to acquire and train and send forth such men, and which had neither leisure nor inchnation to consider any- thing which was not practicable. It is entirely a drawn battle between them ; nor could it have been otherwise had a champion equal to the assailant taken the field.

But the religious world was too timid to perceive the matter in this hght. To attack its methods was nothing less than to attack its object, nor would it permit itself to see differently ; and a man who ac- knowledged, with even unnecessary warmth and frank- ness, the instruction he had received from one who certainly was not an authorised guide in religious matters, and who proffered to them a splendid antique ideal instead of the practicable modern missionary, became a man suspect and dangerous : and the cold- ness, of which he again and again complains, rose an invisible barrier between the fervent preacher and the reverend and pious men to whom, in all simpHcity and honest endeavour to lay his best before them, he had offered only the unusual and startling truths which they could not receive.

While all this was going on Irving's life proceeded in the same full stream of undiminished popularity and personal labour. Besides the passing crowds which honoured and embarrassed the chapel in Cross Street, its congregation had legitimately increased into dimen- sions which the pastor, single-handed, could not dream

208 THK rRKSBYTKRIAX K1>1)K1{S11II'.

(if rotniiiing tlie lull siijH'rintiMultMU'e of; noillior, if ho I'ould liavo (lone it, woukl such a sUitc of thiuirs liavc been consistent witli Pivshytei-inn order. He seems to liave liad l)ut one elder to yield liini the aid and countenance with whicli rresbyterianism accompanies its ministers. Accordingly from the summer retire- ment at Sydenliam, which he alludes to in tlie preiixce l(» his missionary oration, he sent the following letter, an exposition of the office to whicli he invited his friend, to William Hamilton : —

*' Sydenham, 2iid Juno, 182i.

" Dear Sir, — It has for a long time been the anxious desire and prayer, and the subject of frequent conversation to Mr. I)iu\vid(he and myself, that the Lord would direct us in the selection of men from amongst the congregation to fill

the office of elders amongst us And now, my dear

lirother, I write to lay this matter before you, that you may cast it in your rnind, and make it the subject of devout meditation and prayer. That you may be rightly informed of the nature of this office I refer you to Titus i. 6 ; 1 Timothy v. 17; Acts xx. 17; and that you may further know tlie powers with which the founders of our Church have invested this office, I extract the following passage from the second book of iJiscifdine, drawn up and adopted by the General As-serably f<jr the regulation of the Church in the year of our Lord 1590. — Book 2nd, chapter vi.*

• The quotation is as follows: — " Wliat manner of persons they ought to be, we refer it to the express word, and mainly to the canons written by the Apostle Paul.

" Their office is, both severally and conjointly, to watch over the flock committed to their care, both publicly and privately, that no corruption of religion or manners enter therein.

" As the pastors and doctors should be diligent in teaching, and sowing the seed of the Word; so the elders should be careful in seeking after the fruit of the same in the people.

ITS DUTIES AND PRIVILEGES. 209

" And now we pray of you, onr dear and worthy brother, to join with us and help us in the duty for which we are our- selves unequal, of administering rightly the spiritual affairs of the congregation. No one feels himself to be able for the duties of a Christian, much less of the overseer of Christians ; and you may feel unwilling to engage in that for which you may think yourself unworthy. But we pray you to trust in the Lord, who giveth grace according to our desire of it, and perfects his strength in -our weakness. If you refuse, we know not which way to look ; for, as the Lord knoweth, we have fixed upon you and the other four brethren because you seemed to us the most worthy. I, as your pastor, will do my utmost endeavour to instruct you in the duties of the eldership. I shall be ready at every spiritual call to go and minister along with you ; and, by the grace of God, having no private ends known to me but the single end of God's glory, and the edification of the people, we who are at present of the session will join with you hand in hand in every good and gracious work

*' If you feel a good will to the work — a wish to profit and make progress in your holy calling — and a desire after the edification of the Church, the gifts will be given you, and the graces will not be withheld. Therefore, if it can be consistently with your conscience and judgment, we pray you and entreat you to accept of our solicitation, and to allow

" It appertains to them to assist the pastor in the examination of them that come to the Lord's table : Item, in visiting the sick.

" They should cause the Acts of the Assemblies, as well particular as general, to ho piit in execution carefully.

" They should be diligent in admonishing all men of their duty according to the rule of the Evangel.

" Things that they cannot correct by private admonition they must bring to the eldership.

" Their principal office is to hold assemblies with the pastors and doctors who are also of their number, for establishing of good order and execution of discipline, unto the which assemblies all persons are subject that remain within their boimds."

This latter is the formidable institution of the Kirk Session, which bears so large a part in Scottish domestic annals, and has been sub- ject, in later days, to so much ignorant invective.

VOL. I. P

210 IIJVINC roIJMS HIS KTKK SF.SSIOX.

yourself to be coiistraincMl l)y the need iind importunity of tlie Church to he unmed for tliis holy oHice.

" On Friday, next week, I shall come and spend the evening at your house, and converse with you on this matter ; mean- while, accept of my heartfelt wishes for your spiritual Avelfare, and let us n-joice together in tlw work wliich the Lord is working in the midst of us. I know that you will not take it amiss that I have used the hand of my wife in copying off this letter — [up to this point, the letter had been in Mrs. Irving's angular feminine handwriting ; but here her husband's bolder charaeters strike in] — who is well worthy of the trust, although I cannot bring her to think or write so.

" I am, my dear brother, " Your most affectionate pastor and friend,

"EnwAiin Irving."

Tliis apostolical rescript, warmed with the quaint touch of domestic affection at the end, accomplished its purpose, and the excellent man who had all along been L'ving's referee and assistant in everj'thing personal to himself, his friends, and charities, became one of the rulers and recognised overseers of the Church, which henceforward had, hke other Presbyterian congre- gations, its orthodox session, in which fr)r years the preaclier found nothing but fervent sympathy, appre- ciation, and assistance.

A little further on we are introduced into the bosom of the modest home in Pentonville, where domestic life and its events had now begun to expand tlie history of the man. The swell of personal joy with which the following letter Ijreaks into the record of outside events and interests, will charm most people who have had occasion to send similar announcements. It is addressed to Dr. ^Martin : —

BIETH OF LITTLE EDWARD. 211

♦ " Peutonville, 22nd July, 1824.

" My deak Father, — Isabella was safely delivered of a boy (whom may the Lord bless), at half-past eleven this forenoon, and is, with her child, doing well ; and the grandmother, aunt, and father newly constituted, with the mother, are rejoicing in the grace and goodness of God.

" Mrs. Martin and Margaret are both well, and salute you grandfather, wishing with all our hearts that you may never lay down the name, but enjoy it while you live.

" I am well, and I think the pleasure of the Lord is pros- pering in my hand. A wide door and effectual is opened to me, and the Lord is opening my own eyes to the knowledge of the truth. Your arrival and our great-grandfather's, (whom, with all the grand-aunts, salute in our name — I know not what they owe us for such accumulated honours) is ex- pected with much anxiety. I feel I shall be much strength- ened by your presence.

« Your dutiful Son,

" Edward Irving."

This child — child of a love, and hope, and sorrow not to be described ; celebrated, afterwards, as poet's child has rarely been, by such subhmated grief and pathetic resignation as have wept over few graves so infantine — was afterwards baptized, by the great-grandfather above referred to, in the presence of the two intermediate gene- rations of his blood. The child was called Edward ; and was to his father, with emphatic and touching verity, "his excellency and the beginning of his strength." The httle tale of his existence sent echoes through all the strong man's life — echoes so tender and full of such heart-breaking pathos, as I think no human sorrow ever surpassed. In the meantime, however, all was thankfulness in the increased household ; and the patriarchal assemblage of kindred, father, and father's

p 2

•2\-2 PKIISONAL CHARITIES.

fatlior, could liavr ])ro))]icsic(l notliin^ l)ut life and Icuurth of days to the cliild of such a viiijorous race.

Along \vith all the public and domestic occiuTcnces ^vhil•h lillc'd this busy life, there are coimccted such links of charity and })rivate beneficence as put richer and idler men to shame. Living's charity was not alms, but that primitive kindness of the open house and shared meal, which is of all modes of charity the most diificult and the most delicate — a kind almost imknown to our aire and conventional hfe. To illus- trate tliis, we may quote one tragical episode, unfor- tunately more common among Scotch families, and, indeed, among famihes of all nations, than it is comfort- able to know of: — A young man, a probationer of the Clnirch of Scotland, who had been unsuccessful in getting a chmx'h, or, apparently, in getting any employment, had turned such thoughts as he had, in the way of literature, and had written and pubhshed, apparently by subscription, a Treatise on ike Sabbath. Having exhausted Edmburgh, he came to London, with the vain hopes that bring all adventurers there. He seems to liave had no particular talent or quahty commending him to the hearts of men. Into London he dropped obscurely, nobody there finding anything to respect in his half-clerical pretensions or unremarkable book. He went to see L'ving occasionally, and was observed to fall into that dismal shabbiness which marks the failure of heart and hope in men born to better things. Irving had bought his Ijook largely, and stimulated others to do the same, and now watched with anxiety the failure and disappointment which he could not avert. One evening a man ap[)eared at his house

A LOST LIFE. 213

with a note, which he insisted upon dehvering into Irving's own hand. The note was from the unfor- timate individual whom we have just described. It was written in utter despair and shame. " The messenger was the landlord of a ' low public house,' " says a lady, a relative of Irving's, then resident in his house, and ac- quainted with the whole melancholy story," where M

had been for three days and nights, and had run up a bill which he had no means of paying. It appeared that he had boasted of his intimacy with ]\ir. Irving, and the man had offered to carry a note from him to ' his

great friend,' who, M declared, would at once

release him from such a trifling embarrassment. Edward was puzzled what to do, but at last resolved to go to the house, pay the bill, and brmg the unfor- tunate man home. He went, accordingly, desiring me to

get a room ready. M was very glad to get his

bill paid, but woidd scarcely leave the house, till Edward told him he would free liim only on condition that he came with him at once. None of us saw him for a day or two, as he was, or pretended to be, so overcome with shame that he could not look us in the face. But he soon got over this, and jomed the family party. Decent clothes were obtained for him, and we hoped he was really striving tO give up his bad habits." • This continued, for sonlfe time, when, " one day, he went out after dimier and did not return. Two or three days passed, and no account, could we obtain of him. At last, another note was brought, written in the same self-condemnatory strain, begging for forgiveness and assistance." There is httle need for following out the sickening story. Everywhere there are families who

214 IKtSriTAUTV.

liavo received tlie s:aine letters, made the same searches, heard the same humihatiiig confessions and entreaties, — but only for those Avho belong to them, whom nature makes dear amid all wrolchedness, to whom the hearth"! of UKUliere and sisters cling, and in whose be- half love still hopes against hope, are such cares usually imdertakeii. To do it all ibr a stranger — to bring the lialf-conscious wretch into a virtuous home, to wile liim with domestic society and comfort, to seek him out again and again, pay debts for him, find cmi)loy- ments for liim, receive his melancholy penitences, and encom'age what supei'ficial attempts after good there may be in him — is a charity beyond the powers of most men. In niral places, here and there, such good Samaritans may be found ; but what man in London ventures to take upon himself such a responsibility ? This doleful story throws a light upon the ])rivate economics of the Pentonville house which I should be sorry to lose.

Those who were in more innocent need were received ■with still more cordial welcomes. Friends pondering where to cast their lot — people meditating a change of residence, and desirous of seeing how the land lay — found a little mount of vision in the house of the great preacher from wliich to investigate and decide. A stream of society thus flowed 1)y liim, fluctuating as one went and another came. If any man among his friends was sei2ed wdth tlie thought that London might be a sphere more desirable than Edinburgh or than Annan, such a person bethought him, naturally, of Edward Irving and his hospitable house. The great people who sought the great preacher never interfered

COMMENCEMENT OP THE NEW CHUKCH. 215

with the smaller people who sought his assistance and his friendship ; and those who had no possible claim upon liis hospitality got at least his good offices and kind words.

In the middle of the summer, just two years, as he himself tells us, from the time of liis coming, the foun- dation stone of his new church was laid. It was planned of a size conformable to the reputation of the preacher. This event was celebrated by Irving in three sermons — one preached before, another after, and the third on occasion of the ceremony — in which last he takes pains to describe the discipline and practice of that Church of Scotland which stood always highest in his affections ; but, at the same time, speaks of the building about to be erected in terms more like those that might be used by a Jew in reference to liis temple, or by a Cathohc of his holy shrine, than by Presbyterian lips, which acknowledge no consecration of place. Doubtless the sublimation which everything encountered m his mind, the faculty he had of raising all emotions into the highest regions, and of covering even the common with an ideal aspect unknown to itself, may have raised the expressions of a simple sen- timent of reverence into this consecrating halo which his words threw around the unbuilt church ; but it must not be forgotten that from his very outset a cer- tain priestly instinct was in the man who bade " Peace be to this house " in every dwelling he entered, and who gave his benediction, as well as his prayers, like a primitive Pope or Bishop, as, indeed, he felt himself to be.

For rest and recreation the little family, leaving Lon-

'ilG KVAXIJKLICAL JOURNEY.

don in September, ])aid a slunl vi.sit lo tlie paternal houses in Scotland, and tlu-n returned to Dover, wliere tliey remained for some weeks, and wliere Irving, never idle, entered lull}*, as he himsell' relates, into the mis- sionar}' oration of which we liave ah-eady spoken. At a later period, after having agam entered into harness, in the November of the same year, he visited Birming- ham, Manchester, and Liverpool by invitation, in order to stir up his countiymen there to the support and revival of the Church of their fathers, for want of which many of them had sunk into indiiTerence, or worse. From Birmingham, where lie opened a new chiu'ch and preached the discourse on the " Curse as to Bodily Labour," which was published some time after- wards, he Amtes to his wife: —

" Birmingham, 20th or ratlicr 3Cth November, 1821.

"My DEAiiEST Wife,— I am arrived safe, notwithstanding your evil auguries, or rather suggestions, of doubt and un- behef, which the faith of God's providence can alone dissi- pate, and the assurance that I am about our father's business;

and I liave found a home here at the house of Dr. J , my

father's adjoining neighbour, and my very warm friend, into whose heart I pray the Lord I may sow some .spiritual seed in return for his temporal benefits, for, as yet, he is in the dark- ness of Unitarianisrn. Nevertheles.s, they have family prayers, at which I this night presided, and while I sought 1 could not find to avoid in my prayers the matters in dispute be- tween ufi, but was constrained, as it were, by superior power to make cordial testimony to our risen and reigning Lord, our Saviour and our God.

" I have seen the Committee, and find all things looking

prosperously Mr. I. ],as had so much distress in

his family that he was content I should come here, and not to him ; but I go to-morrow afternoon to weep with him and his motherless children. Mrs. L loved you to the end with

BIKMINGHMI. 217

a strange and strong love, and it was her greatest earthly desire to have seen you. There is something so uncommon in this that it seems to me to point the way that you should love her children, and do for their sakes what she longed to do for your mother's child. Therefore, my dear Isabella, do

write Miss L , and strengthen her, and invite her when

she can be spared to come and spend some time with us. . . . Be careful of yourself and the little boy — the dear, dear little boy, my greatest earthly hope and joy — for you are not another, but myself — my better and dearer half. I pray the Lord to bless you, and be instead of a friend and husband and father to you in my absence. Let not your backward- ness hinder you from family prayers night and morning.

"I hope I shall find time to write to Margaret, our beloved sister, to whom I have much that is affectionate to communi- cate, and something that may be instructive Forget

me not to Mary*, over whom I take more than a master's authority, feeling for her all the guardianship of a parent,

which she may be pleased to permit me in My

brotherly and pastoral love to the elders of the flock

Say to Thomas, the moralist, that I love him at a distance as much as at hand — I think sometimes full better, as they say in Annandale. To my Isabella I say all in one word, that I desire and seek to love her as Christ loved the Church.

" Your most affectionate husband,

" Edward Irving."

Another brief letter follows from Liverpool, where he also preached for the encouragement and strengthening of the Scotch Church already in existence there. It is naturally to his wife that his letters are now chiefly addressed, and the result is, as will be shortly shown, as wonderful a revelation of heart and thoughts as one human creature ever made to another. By this time the natural course of events seems to have withdrawn him in a great degree from regular correspondence with his

* One of his servants.

218 HO Ml-: SOCIETY.

fi'iciuls in Scotland — a I'lianm' wliicli liis marriago, niul all tlu' ri'\i)luti<'>nj5 \vliicli IkhI Inl^cii place in liis lifo, as woll as the full (KHnipatii)n of his time, and the perpetually increasing calls made upon it, rendered inevitable. His alVections weiv imchanged, Init it was no longer possible to keej) up the expression of them. The new friends who multiplied around him were of a kind to make a dee]i im]ires<ion upon a mind which Avas iiillu- cnced more or less by all whom it held in high regard. We have already quoted his warm expressions of esteem and affection for Mr. Basil Montagu and liis wife. To Coleridge he liad also owned liis still higher obliga- tions. Another friend, whom his friends consider to have had no small influence on Irving, was the Rev. W. Vaughan, of Leicestei', an English clergjnnan, who is supposed, I cannot say with wliat truth, to have been mainly instrumental in leaehng him to some views which lie afterwards expressed. His distinguished countiyman, Carlyle, referred to witli i)hiyful affection in the letter we have just quoted, not then resident in London, was liis occasi(jnal guest and close friend. Good David Wilkie, and his biographer, Allan Cunning- ham, were of the less elevated liome society, which again connected itself with the lowest homely levels by visitors and petitioners from Glasgow and Annan- dale. In this wide cii'cle the preacher moved with all the joyousness of his nature, never, however, leaving it possible for any man to forget that his special character was that of a servant of God. The light talk then indulged in by magazines, breaks involuntarily into pathos and serioasness, in the allusions made in Eraser's Mauazine,jesLrs after, to this early summer of his career.

" m GOD HE LIVED AND MOVED. 219

The laughing philosophers, over their wine, grow sud- denly grave as they speak of the one among tliem who was not as other men : — " In God he lived, and moved, and had Ids being," says this witness, impressed from among the hghter regions of hfe and literature to bear testimony ; " no act was done but m prayer ; every blessing was received with thanksgiving to God ; every friend was dismissed with a parting benediction." The man who could thus make his character apparent to the wits of his day must have hved a Hfe unequivocal and not to be mistaken.

It was while livmg in the ftiU exercise of all those charities, happy in the new household and the firstborn child, that he worked at the missionary oration, the history of which I have akeady told. Apart from the ordinary comments upon and wondermgs over the stream of fashion which still flowed towards Hatton Garden, this oration was, for that year, the only visible disturbing element in his hfe.

220

CTIArTEll X. 1825.

Ix tlic beginning of tlic year 1825, — a year for ever to be remembered in Edward Irving's life, and wliicli, indeed, so touching, and solemn, and pathetic are all the records of its later part, I could almost wish con- tained no common events, but only the apotheosis of love and grief accomplished in it, — he was, notwith- standing the sad failm^e and discomfiture of the London Missionary Society, in its employment of his services, requested to pre^ach for the Continental Society on a similar occasion. This Society was hold up and main- tained from its commencement by the nervous strength of Ilenry Drummond, a man ah^eady known to the preacher, over whose later course he was to exercise so great an influence. Irving, remembering the past, was slow to undertake this new commission, becoming aware, I do not doul)t, that his thoughts often ran in channels so distinct from those of other nieii, that it was dangerous to be chosen as the mouthpiece of a ''targe and varied body. He consented at last, however ; and, true to his unfailing conscientious desire to bring out of the depths of Scripture all the light which he could perceive it to throw upon the subject in hand, liis discourse naturally came to be uj)on prophecy. I say

IRVING 'S IXTEODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF PKOniECY. 221

naturally, because, in tlie evangelization of the Conti- nent, all the mystic impersonations of the Apocalypse, . — the scarlet woman on her seven liills, the ten-horned beast, all the prophetic personages of that dread unde- veloped drama, — are necessarily involved. The manner in which Irving's attention had been, some short time before, specially directed to the study of prophecy, is however too interesting and characteristic to be passed without more particular notice. Several years before, Mr. Hatley Frere, one of the most sedulous of those prophetical students who were beginning to make themselves known here and there over the country, had propounded a new scheme of interpretation, for which, up to this time, he had been unable to secure the ear of the rehgious pubhc. Not less confident in the truth of his scheme that nobody shared his behef in it, Mr. Frere cherished the conviction that if he could but meet some man of candid and open mind, of popularity sufficient to gain a hearing, to whom he could privately explain and open up his system, its success was certain. When Irving, all ingenuous and ready to be taught, was suddenly brought in contact with him, the student of prophecy identified him by an instant intuition. — " Here is the man ! " he exclaimed to himself ; and with all the eagerness of a discoverer, who seeks a voice by which to utter what he has found out, he addressed himself to the task of convmcing the candid and generous soul which could condemn nothing un- heard. He disclosed to his patient hearer all those details to which the pubhc ear declined to hsten ; and the result was that Mr. Frere gained a disciple and exposi- tor ; and that an influence fatal to his future leisure, and

'2'2'2 Till-: FASCIXATION OF THAT STUDY.

of the most monientous importance to his future destiny — wliieh, indeed, it is impossible now to disjoin from tlie man, <>r to consider his hfe or eliaracter a])art from — took possession of Irving's thoutrlits. Tliis new subject naturally connected itself with that conviction of an approaching crisis in the fate of the world, not mild convei'sion, but tragic and solenm winding up and settle- ment, which he is said to have derived from Cole- ridge. Henceforward the gorgeous and cloudy \nstas of the Apocalyi^se became a legible chart of the future to his fen'ent eyes.

The fascination of that study, always so engrossing and attractive, seized upon him fully ; and when it came to be his bushiess to consider the truths best adapted for the instruction and encouragement of a body of Chris- tian men labouring!; on behalf of that old iioman world ■which has long been the heart and centre of the earth, his mind passed at once into those solemn and myste- rious adumbrations of Providence in which he and many other Christian men have believed tliemselves able to trace the ver}'- spot, between what was fulfdlcd and what was unfulfdled, in which they themselves st^jod. Could such a standing ground be certainly ob- tained, who can doubt that here is indeed the guidance of all others for any effort of evangelizati(jn ? Irving had no doubt upon the subject. To him the record was distinct, the past apparent, the future to be reve- rently Init clearly understood. Superficial pious ad- dresses were impossiV)le to a man who went into every- thing with his whole heart and soul. His Bible was not to him the foundation from which theology was to be proved, but a Divine word, instinct with meaning never

HIS CONSCIENTIOUSNESS IN TEEATING HIS SUBJECTS. 223

to be exhausted, and from which hght and guidance — not vague, but particular — could be brought for every need. And the weight of his " caUing " to instruct was never absent from his mind. To the missionaries, ac- cordingly, he brought forth the picture of an apostle ; and opened before the eyes of those who aimed at a re-evangehzation of old Christendom a cloudy but splendid panorama of the fate which was about to over- take the sphere of their operations, and all the myste- rious agencies, half discerned in actual presence, and clearly indicated in Scripture, which were before them in that difficult and momentous field. In a man distinguished as an orator this tendency to avoid the superficial and go to the very heart, as he understood it, of his subject, was neither expected nor recognised by the ordinary crowd. In this same spring of 1825, in which he preached his prophetical discourse for the instruction of a society engaged upon the Continent — on the very ground where prophecy, according to his in- terpretation, was to be fulfilled — he also preached for the Highland School Society ; a subject which might have been supposed very congenial to his heart, and in which I have no doubt his audience looked for such glowing pictures of Highland glens and mountains, of primitive faith, and picturesque godliness, the romance of religion, as pious orators, glad of so fluent a topic of declamation, have made customary on such occasions. The orator took no such easy and beaten track. He entered into the subject of education with all the con- scientiousness of his nature, setting it forth fully in a manner which, whatever may be the inevitable expe- diencies to which modern civilisation is driven, must

•2J4 lIAniTS OF TIlOUCillT.

commaiul tlie respect and juliniration of everybody wlio lias ever tliouLdit ii})oii (lie subjei't. T am anxious to point out tliis jieculiai'ily, because I do not tliink it is one for wliicli Irving, all oratorical and declamatory tis he is supposed to have been, gets the honour he deserves. It is not my j^art to decide ujion the right or wrong of his views, especially on such a subject as that of prophecy : I am only anxious to indicate fully a habit of liis mind, which the correspondence shortly to be given will illus- trate more fidly tJian anything else can do. When any subject was presented to him his mind immediately carried it away out of the everyday atmosphere into a world of thought and ideal truth, where practicabilities, much more expediencies, did not enter ; — interrogated it closely to get at its heart ; — expounded it so from tlie depths, from the heights, from the unseen soul of the matter, that people, accustomed to look at it only from the outside, stood by aghast, and did not know the familiar doctrine which they themselves had put into his hands. This will be found the case in almost every- thing he touches. No sooner does he apply himself to the special consideration of any point tlian all its hidden, spiritual meanings come gleaming upon his mind. lie goes about his daily lousiness always attended by tliis radiant track of meditation, pondering in his heart thnjugh the streets and squares, among the fields, by the way. By close, secret dwelling upon it, tlie ideal soul contained in any intellectual tmth gradually warms and glows uito regions ineffable Ijcfore his eyes. Men enough there are in all times — in our time, perhaps, Xajo many — who can expound the practicable. Irving's vocation was of a totally different nature: it was his

SERMON TO THE CONTINENTAL SOCIETY. 225

to restore to the enterprises and doctrines of universal Cliristianity — witliout consideration of what was prac- ticable or how it could be reahsed — the Divine soul, which use and familiarity perpetually obscure.

His discourse to the Continental Society, though it did not raise such a commotion as the missionary ora- tion, was still far from palatable to some of his hearers. " Several of the leading members of the committee," we are told, " had neither Christian patience nor decorum enough to hear the preacher out, but abruptly left the place ; " and, from the comments that followed, Irving was soon brought to miderstand that he had been mis- apprehended, and that pohtical meanings, of which he was innocent, had been suspected in his sermon. Cathohc Emancipation was then one of the questions of the day ; and the advocates of both sides suspected him, oddly enough, of having supported their several views of the matter. At the same time, his heart had gone into the task ; he had found in prophetical inter- pretation a study which charmed him deeply, and had found himself drawn, as was natural, into a closer, ex- clusive fellowship with those wdio pursued the same study and adopted the same views. Urged by his brother-students of prophecy, and inchned of himself to give forth those investigations in which he had himself been comforted, to the world, he devoted his leisure during the year to amplifying and filling out the germ wliich had been in his discourse. "Thus it came to pass," he says in the preface, " that to clear myself from being a pohtical partizan in a ministerial garb, and to gratify the de.-?ires of these servants of Christ, I set forth this pubhcation, on which I pray the blessing of God to rest."

VOL. I. Q

22fi nvnYLOX AND IXFIDF.LI'n' FOREDOOMKD.

TTo cntitk'tl the hook, Jlabijlon and Tiifidclitii Fore- doomed^ and tU'dioiUed it, witli liis iisiinl inagnimiinoii.s ackuowlodmnent of imk'l)U'diR\s.s, to the iroiitlemaii who liad \\i'A directed liis tliouglits to tlie subject. " To my beloved friend and brother in Christ, Hatley Frerc,

" When I first met you, worthy sir, in a company of friends, and minted, I know not by what, asked you to walk forth into the fields that we might commune together, while the rest enjoyed their social converse, you seemed to me as one who dreamed, while you opened in my ear your views of the pre- sent time, as foretold in the Book of Daniel and the Apoca- lypse. But being ashamed of my own ignorance, and having been blessed from my youth with the desire of instruction, I dared not t<D scoflf at what I heard, but resolved to consider the matter. jNIore than a year passed before it pleased Pro- vidence to bring us together again, at the house of the same dear friend and brother in the Lord, when you answered so sweetly and temperately the objections made to your views, that I was more and more struck with the outward tokens of a believer in truth ; and I was again ashamed at my own ignorance, and again resolved to consider the matter ; after which I had no rest in my spirit until I waited upon you and offered myself as your pupil, to be instructed in prophecy according to your ideas thereof; and for the ready goodwill with which you undertook, and the patience with which you performed this kind office, I am for ever beholden to you, most dear and worthy friend. . . , For I am not willing that any one should account of me as if I were worthy to have had revealed to me the impoi-fant truths contained in this dis- course, which may all be found written in yoiir * Treatise on the Prophecies of Daniel ;' only the Lord accounted me wor- thy to receive the faith of these things which He first made known to you, His more worthy servant. And if He make me the instrument of conveying that faith to any of His Church, that they may make themselves ready for His coming, or to any of the world, that they may take refuge in the ark of His salvation from the deluge of wrath which abideth the

SERMOXS ON PUBLIC OCCASIONS. 227

impenitent, to His name shall all the praise and glory be ascribed by me. His unworthy servant, who, through mercy, dareth to subscribe himself, your brother in the bond of the Spirit, and the desire of the Lord's coming,

"Edward Irving."

This opeiiing season of '25 seems to have brought a large share of public occupation to the preacher, whose unbounded popularity attracted a crowded audience around him at his every appearance. Another careful and weighty discourse upon the condition of Ireland, — not, perhaps, specially adapted to a moment when much of the generous feeUng of the country had been roused, in the discussions upon Cathohc Emancipation, to take the part of that portion of our countrymen who lay under disabihties so grievous ; but fidl of truth, which expe- rience has proved, — was preached at the instance of the Hibernian Society. He is also recorded to have made a striking and very characteristic appearance at a meet- ing of the same Society, not long before. The power of agitation in that period, so much more strongly pohtical than this, was at its height ; and that wonderfid and crafty leader, who won the Cathohc battle almost single- handed, and ruled his island 'for a lifetime with auto- cratic sway, already threw his shadow even upon such an institution as the Irish Bible Society. Stanch Orangemen on theu* native soil would undoubtedly have defied such an influence with double pertinacity and zeal ; but metropohtan meekness counselled other- wise. An English clergyman of high standing and well-known character called for Irving to drive him to the meeting which was to be held under these cir- cumstances, and made a cautious attempt to tutor the

Q 2

238 innERXIAX ninLE socikty.

iinconij>roini>iiitz; (^rator. ''Take us to one ol" 3'our IliLrlilaiul glens," said the well-mcajiing puacemakor, " and give us a piclure of tlie sinii)licity and lioliness of life there produced by llu' study of tlie Word." Irving, wlio liad not adopted tliat natural and easy, superlieial ■way of ])leading the cause of his own countrymen, asked with some astonisliment wliy his subject was to be thus prescribed to him. The answer was one of all others least likely to tame the habitual fervour and opeimess of tlie Scotch preacher. Some of O'Connell's followers were to be present at the meet- ing, as a check upon over-bold criticism ; and it had been decided that nothing was to be said whicli could provoke the hiterference of these self-appointed moderators. It is unnecessaiy to say that Irving alto- gether repudiated this arrangement, and came under no engagement to make the innocent pastoral address, meaning nothing, which was suggested to him. The meeting was very noisy and much disturbed, as had been expected. One of the speakers, a Mr. Pope, who had come from Ireland warmly indignant at the petty priestly artifices by wliich the circulation of the Bible was hindered, was so often interrupted, that at length the Chairman, giving way to the violence of the un- welcome visitors, added his authority to the outcries, and requested the speaker to sit down. This silenced witness was followed by otlier speakers more com- placent, who amused the audience with sentiment and mild description, such as had been vainly sohcited from Irving. ^V^^en his time came, as one of his audi- tors relates, he advanced, in all the strength of his imposing height and demeanour, to tlie front of the

AN AFTEENOON A^IONG THE POOE. 229

platform, and "lifting up a heavy stick, which he carried, struck it on the floor to give additional emphasis to his words. ' I have been put to shame this day,' said the indignant orator; 'I have had to sit still and see a servant of God put down in a so-called Christian assembly for speaking the simple truth. Ichabod! Ichabod! the glory is departed!'" The speech that followed this bold beginning was not interrupted ; and, when the meeting was over, the orator was surrounded by a crowd of excited and applauding hearers, shower- ing thanks and congratulations upon him.

From this scene another witness leads us to one very different and more congenial to the most human-hearted of men. An account of " an afternoon spent in his society among the poor of London," which appeared some years since in the pages of the Free Church Magazine, gives a quaint picture at once of the dis- abilities and mistakes of ordinary visitors of the poor, and of Irving's entire capacity for that noble and difficult office. Some ladies in the city had estabhshed an infant school in the district of BiUingserate, and finding themselves quite unsuccessful in persuading the people to send their childi'en to it, appHed to Irving to help them. He, at the height of his splendid reputa- tion, whom critics had assailed with accusations of indifference to the poor, immediately consented to give his aid in this humble mission. He went with them, accordingly, through the district. In the first house he left the explanation of their errand to his female cHents, and speedily discovered the mistake these good people made. The scene is full of comic elements, and one can scarcely refrain from imagming the appearance that

230 lli\ I.NU'S '' WAY."

sucli a urouji must have presented : tlie city ladies, im- portant in tlieir mission, impressing upon the hesitating, liall-airruuted motlier, into wliose room they luid made theii' way, all the charitable advantages which they had onhiined for her children, — and the great figure of the ])reacher standhig by, letting them have their own way, doubtless not witliout amusement in liis compassionate eyes. When they came to the second house, he took the office of spokesman upon himself. " When the door was opened, he spoke in the kindest tone to the woman wlio opened it, and asked permission to go in. lie then explained the intention of the ladies, asked how many cliildren she had, and whether she would send them ? A ready consent was the result ; and the mother's heart was completely won when the visitor took one of her httle ones on his knee, and blessed her." The city ladies were confounded. They had honestly intended to benefit the poor, very, very distantly re- lated to them by way of Adam and the forgotten patriarchs — but the cheerful brotherhood of the man who had blessed the bread of the starving Glasgow weavers was as strange to tliem as if he had spoken Hebrew instead of Enghsh. " Wliy, Mr. Irving," ex- claimed one of the ladies when they got to the street, *' you spoke to that woman as if she were doing you a favour, and not you conferring one on her! IIow could you speak so ? and how could you take up that child on your knee ?" " The woman," he rephed, " does not as yet know the advantages which her children will derive fi'ora your school; by-and-by, she will knoAV them, and own her obhgations to you ; and in so speak- ing and in blessing her child, I do but follow the ex-

IJN^ITATION TO REMOVE TO EDIXBURGH. 231

ample of our Lord, who blessed the little ones, the lambs of His flock." Li another house the chikben had beautiful hair, which the benevolent visitors, intent on doing good after their own fasliion, insisted on having cut short as a preliminary of admission. The great preacher lifted the pretty curls in his hand and pleaded for them, but m vain. When they were denied admis- sion at one house, he left his benediction to the unseen people within, and passed on. On the whole, his com- panions did not know what to make of him. Ii'ving's fashion of visiting " the poor " was imknown in Bil- Hngsgate.

Such a junction and contrast of duties throws a singular hght upon his full and various life.

In the early summer a deputation from Scotland, in the persons of two gentlemen, henceforward to be numbered among his warmest and closest friends, Mr. James Bridges, and Mr. Matthew Norman Macdonald, two Edinburgh lawyers, of influence and weight in the Church, came, on a mission of inquiry, to ascertain, apparently, whether the much-distinguished preacher was equally zealous in the performance of his pastoral duties, whether he was worthy of the honour of being caUed to a church in Edinburgh, and whether he would be disposed to accept such an invitation. Ir\ing's de- termination, lauded by Dr. Chalmers, of not sufiermg his hom-s of study to be interrupted by visitors, kept these gentlemen wandering about the unsuggestive streets of Pentonville till after two o'clock, when he received \T.sitors. The inquirers returned not only satisfied but dehghted, and stimulated the church which had sent them out as laudable spies, to discover

•232 HIS ANSWKK.

not tlio iiMkodiicss hut llir \vc;iltli iiiul viLTour nl" [ho land, to send anotlicr doi)utation, expressly asking Mr. Irving to become their minister. His reply to this application I ha\e been favonred ^vith by Dr. Douglas Maclagan, in whose possession the letter now is: —

" My beloved Buetiiren in the Gospel of Christ, — I re- joice to have received by your hands and from your lips the assurance that such a grave and spiritual liody of Christians iLS the eldership of St. Cuthbert's, Edinburgh, have judged me a fit person to be presented to the people of Hope Place Chapel, as one worthy to exercise the ministry of word and sacrament over them, if they should see it good and profitaljle to call me — the more when I consider the character and gifts of my dear frieud and l)rother in the ministry *, who has

been called from among them to labour elsewhere All

that has been said on both sides has sunk deep into my mind, and I have sought gi-ace to enable me to come to a wise and righteous determination; aud, after much thought and anxiety, I have expressed the state of my feelings towards both sides in a letter to my session aud people, of which there is enclosed an exact copy.

" You will perceive, from that' letter, by what strong and enduring ties I am drawn towards my native country and my beloved Church, and by what present stronger, though not 80 enduring, ties I am held here. I have no doubt the time is coming when the .Spirit will press me to declare in the ear of the Church of Scotland that truth which I am })Ound at present to deliver here, until I shall have finished the burden of it. When that time comes, you will find me in the midst of you ; or, if any emergency should occur before that time to hasten my resolution, it is, I think, to my own country, and to the chief city of it, that I will present myself.

" You have been faitliful to your trust, and are worthy to be the messengers of such a spiritual body. The Lord conduct you on your way to your home, and bring you in peace to

♦ The Rev. Dr. Gordon.

HIS MANNER OF LIFE. 233

your office in His Church ! And be assured of the communion and fellowship of

" Your brother in the Gospel and in the Eldership,

" Edwakd Irving."

A word or two as to tlie most modest and primitive life led by the subject of oiir memoir will not be out of place here. I give it on the authority of one of his nearest rela- tives, a lady, who frequently hved in his house : — " Mr. Irving's rule was to see any of his friends who wished to visit him without ceremony at breakfast. Eight o'clock was the hour. Family worship first, and then breakfast. At ten he rose, bade every one good-bye, and rethed to his study. He gave no audience again till after three. Two o'clock was the dinner hoiu: ; and, after that, should no one come to prevent him, he generally walked out, Mrs. Irving accompanying him; and, until the baby took hooping-cough, ]\ir. Irving almost always carried him in his arms. Some people laughed at this, but that he did not care for in the very least." To see the great preacher, admhed and flattered by the highest personages in the kuigdom, marching along the Pen- tonville streets with Ms baby, must have been a spectacle to make ordinary men open their eyes. An amusing personal anecdote, belonging to a similar period, comes from the same authority. His indifference to money has been visible with sufiicient distinctness throughout his hfe ; but, after his marriage, according to a primitive habit most worthy of imitation, he committed the charge of his finances entirely to the prudence of his wife, and carried sometimes only the smallest of coins, sometimes nothing at all, in his own private purse. This habit sometimes brought him into situations of

234 THE TADDINCiTON COACH.

annisin«j enibniTassniciit. (^ii niu' occasion he had left liome to visit a ineinber of liis congregation somewhere on tlie hne of tlie New Hoad ; but, iinding liiniself kte, took, witliout considering tlie state of his pocket, the Paddington coac/t, omnibuses having not yet come into l\\.shion. As soon as the vehicle "vvas on its way, the unlucky passenger recollected that he was penni- less. His dismay at the thought was overwhelming, but soon brightened with a sudden inspiration. Looking around him, he artfully fixed upon the most benevolent- looking foce he saw, and poured his sorrows into his fel- low-traveller's ear. "I told him that I was a clergpnan," was the account he gave to his amused home-audience; "thai, since I had obtained a wife from the Lord, I had given up all concern with the tilings of" this world, leaving my purse in my Avife's hands; and that to-day I had set out to visit some of my flock at a distance, without recollectmg to put a shilling in my purse for the coach." The good man thus addressed was pro- pitious, and paid the fare. But the honour due to such a good Samaritan is lessened when we learn that the preacher's remarkaljle appearance, and scarcely less ex- traordinarjM'equest, betrayed him; and the stranger had the honour and satisfaction, for his sixpence, of making the acquaintance of Edward Irving.

Early in this summer, clouds began to appear in the firmament of the new household. The baby, so joy- fully welcomed and dearly prized, was seized with hooping-cough. And, in the end of June, Mrs. Irving, then herself in a delicate condition of health, accom- panied by her sister, took httle Edward down to Scotland, to the peaceful manse of Kirkcaldy, for change of air.

HIS LETTER OP WELCOME TO HIS WIFE. 235

The following letter was written immediately after the departm'e of the travellers : —

" London, Friday Afternoon ; July 1st, 1825.

" My dear Isabella and beloved Wife, — I suppose, by the time this arrives in Kirkcaldy, yon will be arrived, and httle Edward, and our dear brother and sister, and faithful Mary ; and, because I cannot be there to welcome you in person to your father's house, I send this my representative to take you by the hand, to embrace you by the heart, and say wel- come, thrice welcome, to your home and your country, which you have honoured by fulfilling the duties of a wife and mother well and faithfully — the noblest duties of woman- hood. And while I say this to yourself, I take you to your father and mother, and say unto them: Eeceive, honoured parents, your daughter — your eldest-born child — and give her double honom- as one who hath been faithful and dutiful to her husband, and brings with her a child to bear down your piety, and faith, and blessedness to other generations, if it please the Lord. Thus I fulfil the duty of restoring with honour and credit — well due and well won — one whom I received from their house as its best gift to me.

" When I returned, I went solitary to Mrs. Montagu's, who was pleased with your letter, in order to see whether I was

expected at Highgate. ... So to Highgate B • and I

hied, and we found the sage *, as usual, full of matter. He talked with me privately about his own spiritual concerns, and I trust he is in the way of salvation, although I see that he has much to prevail against, as we have all. ... I have pastoral work for all next week but Thursday, and shall con- tinue so until I remove. To-day I have been busy with my first discourse upon the ' Will of the Father,' which I pray you to study diligently in the Gospel by ,Tohn i. 13, 14 ; v. 20, 21; vii. 37, 44, 65; viii. 16, 19, 26, 28; x. 27, 29 — and all those discourses study if you would know the prece- dency which the will of the Father hath of the preaching of the Son, and how much constant honour you must give to it, in order to be a disciple of Christ. My head is wearied,

* Coleridge, then living at Highgate with his friends the Gillmans.

236 HIS FEELINGS IX RESrECT I'O HIS CALL TO EDINBUIIOII.

nnd Nvitli diffioulty din^rtoth niv liiind to Avrilc these few words, whith I am im)ved to by luy atiectioii to yoii as my wife, and my desire after yoii as a saint. Therefore, I con- chide ha.'^tily, with my h)ve to onr dear parents, brothers, and sisters, and all our kindred. Tiic Lord jircserve my wife and

child !

"Your faithful husband,

" Edward Irving." Tliis letter was followed, a week after, by another letter, in wliich liis doubts and inclinations, in respect to the call from Edinburgh — liis decision of which question has been already recorded — are fully set forth. Tlie tone of this letter is far from enthusiastic as regards London, notwithstanding his intention of remaining in it.

..." I have Mr. Paul and j\Ir. Howden waiting upon me as a deputation from tlic Kirk Session of the West Kirk, Edinlturgh, that I Avould consent to succeed Dr. Gordon, and I now write to you for your counsel and advice in this matter. Take it into your serious consideration, and seek counsel of the Lord, and write me your judgment. For myself, observe how it is. There is no home here, either to our family or my ministrations, and all the love of my people cannot make it a home. If anything would have rallied the Scotch people to the Church, ray notoriety, not to say my talents, would have done it ; and you know how vain it has been. The religious Ijodies are too bigoted to receive me witli any cor- diality. I had wished to preach the Gospel in Edinburgh, though the call has come sooner than I had looked for. I have a desire to meet the anti-christian influence full in the face, and, in God's help, to wrestle with it. I love the Chui'ch of Scotland, and would contend for its prosperity.

" These are weighty considerations. But, on the other hand, it would break the heart of so many dear friends and servants of Christ who have cherished me here. I fear it would dis- perse the flock, and smite down the proposed National Church. I see the victory over my enemies, in and out of the Established Church, to be already at liand, and their advantage likely to be promoted by my continuance. But I

REASONS FOR REMAINING IN LONDON. 237

know not how it is, the considerations on this side of the question do not muster so strong.

" There is a feeling of instability — a sense of insufficiency connected with all one's undertakings here — I know not what to make of it. I shall consider the matter very maturely. Do you the same, and return me your (opinion) by return of post. Consult also your dear father and mother."

The wife's answering letter does not seem to have been preserved ; and in the next (from which it appears that she had been, as w^as natural, inclined to the cliange) he intimates his decision. In the meantime, he had removed from his own solitary home to the hospitable house of JVIr. Montagu : —

''25 Bedford Square; lOtli July, 1825.

" My dearest Wife, — On Sunday I desired a meeting of the church and congregation at six o'clock last night, and then laid before them both my resolution to remain amongst them, and the grounds of it ; and I now haste, having completed my morning's study, to lay before you -what I laid before them, that I may have your approbation, which is all that now remains to the full contentment of my own mind.

*' The invitation, I said, had three chief reasons to recom- mend it, and by which it still remains on my mind weightilv recommended : — First. That so well advocated in your letter, which sunk deep into my thoughts, that it might be the call of Providence to do for Edinburgh what I had been called upon to do for London, and what no one of the ministers of God had done before I came. Secondly. The desire I had to be restored to the communion of the true ministers of Christ and servants of Grod in the Church of Scotland, who hereto- fore, with a very few exceptions, have estranged me from their confidence. Thirdly. The love which I had to a manageable pastoral charge. On the other hand, three more weighty reasons prevailed with me to remain : — First. Their desire of my ministry, and assurance of co-operation in my official duties, which, going elsewhere, was all to work for. Secondly. The consciousness that I had not yet told half my

238 SKRMONS OX Till: TKIMTY.

messacfo out df the (idspd, and but partially fiililllod my niiuistry. Thirdly. Tlio desire I bad that my countrymen should yet have a little longer trial, and the opportunity whicli a new church woidd afford them of retiu-ning to the bosom of the Church. Lastly. The strong love which I bore my people, and which made me shrink from any call to de- part but such an one as was very imperious and strong. But while I consented to stay in my present ministry for these weighty roa.'^ons, I gave them, at the same time, distinctly to understand, that such a call might be given me as would be able to call me elsewhere ; and that, without a call, if the Spirit moved me, I would certainly go to the world's end. Having said tliis much I left the desk, and the people re- mained to consider what was best to be done, and I have but heard imperfectly from Mr. Paul and Mr. Howden, who breakfasted with ns this morning, that it was conducted in a good spirit.

" I trust that my dear Isabella will approve of what I have done, which I have certainly done by much patient delibera- tion, yet with a strong resolution, and at the same time a bicrh sense and feelincr of all the considerations on the other side. The thing has done much good already, and will do ranch more, chiefly as it has brought out the declaration and understanding on all hands that I may be called away, which the people here had little thought of. Also, that I will stand justified before incredulous Edinburgh by two other witnesses. For I am not to seek as to the true sentiment that is still entertained by the religioas part of men there concerning me, and would gladly see it wiped away.

*' Last Sabbath I preached in the morning on the subject of the Trinitv, showinff that the revelation of the Word consisted of three parts — Law, Gospel, and Obedience — which were severally the forms of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost; so that a trinity was everywhere in the Word of God; and I intend to continue the same subject next Sab- bath, and on the following one to show that there are three constant states by which the soul expjesses her homage to the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost : — First, prayer ; secondly, faith ; and thirdly, activity, which are a trinity in unity with the new man. In the evening I lectured on John sending

OriNIONS IN RESPECT TO MIRACLES. 239

his disciples to inquire at Christ of his Messiahship, showing thence how his mind, partaking of the vulgar error, had lost the impression of the outward signs shown at his baptism, and thence arguing the total insufficiency of that manner of demonstration and proof to which the last century hath given such exaggerated importance. I showed that Christ's action before the messengers, and his message to the Baptist, was a fulfilment of the prophecy in the 61st of Isaiah, which led me to explain the great point, that miracles were nothing but the incarnation or visible representation of the Holy Grhost, as Jesus of Nazareth was of the Word of Grod ; and that, as His word was the will of the Father, so were His works the acts of the Spirit dwelling in Him, and about to proceed from Him.

" We were at Allan Cunningham's last night, where I met with Wilkie. They all desired their love to you and Margaret. Everybody inquires after you, and rejoices in your welfare. You must keep yourself quiet. Let not ceremony or any other cause take hold of your kind heart, and disturb you from necessary quiet. I trust little Edward continues to thrive. Cease not to pray for him and me as for yourself. I see not why we may not pray in the plural number, as if we were present together. I shall keep by eight in the morning and ten at night for my hours of prayer. Oh, Isabella, pray much for me ! I need it much. These are high things after which I strive, and I oft fear lest Satan should make them a snare to my soul The Lord protect you all, and save

you !

" Your affectionate husband,

" Edward Ieving."

" London ; 25 Bedford Square, August 2d, 1825.

" 4tli August : Dies natalis atque fatalis incidit.

" ' The day of birth and of death drawetli nigh.'

" My dearest Wife, — .... I have not altered my mind upon the course of my journey, which I will direct forthwith to Kirkcaldy by the steamboat, without passing at the present through the towns in England, which, if all be well ordered,

I can take upon my return I greatl}'^ rejoice that you

are enjoying the quiet and repose whereof you stand so much

'240 SACUAMKNT OF DArilSM.

in need, ami that little Edward is thriving daily. The Ldnl give health and strenjj^h to his soul ! 1 pray you, my dear Isabella, to be.ir in niiud that he has been consecrated to God. l)y the Sacrament of liaptism, whereby Christ did Jissure to our faith the death of his body of sin, and the life of his spirit of righteousness; and that he is to be brought up in the full faith and u.'^surance of the fulfilment of this greatest promise and blessing, which our dear Lord hath bestowed upon our faith ; wherefore adopt not the ba.se notion, into which many parents fall, of waiting for a future couversiun and new l)irth, but regard that as fully promised to us from the beginning, and let all your prayers, desires, words, and thoughts towards the child proceed accordingly. P^or I think that we are all grown virtually adult Baptists, whatever we be professedly, in that we take no comfort or encouragement out of the Sacrament. Let it not be so with you, whom God hath set to be a mother in Israel.

" Since I ^vrote, I have passed a Sabbath, when I had much of the Lord's presence in all the exercises of public worship, and was able to declare the truth with much liberty ; preach- ing in the morning from Rom. viii. 3, 4, and opening the sentence of death which there was in the law, and the re- prieve of life which there was in the work and gospel of Christ, — a subject which I mean to follow up by showing that the reprieve is for the end of our fulfilling the law, which, as an antecedent to the Gospel, is the form of our death, as the consequent of the Gospel is the form of our life, to Ije per- fected and completed in the state of complete restitution, when Christ shall present His Church without spot to His P'ather, and shall then resign the mediatorial kingdom. This all deduces itself from the doctrine of the Trinity : the Father Ls not beloved nor obeyed without the Son ; but the Son sends forth his Spirit, that we may be enabled to come and obey the Father. So that, unless the law be kept in our continual view, the Spirit hath no end nor operation. In the evening I lectured upon Luke vii. 29, 36, setting forth the three forms of the Pharisees: First, — The Pharisee of the intellect or rea.son (of whom Edinburgh is the chief city), who contemn faith and form equally. Second, — The Pha- risee of form, who cannot away Nvith sptiritual regeneration.

((

OEIGINAL STANDARDS. 241

Third, — The Spiritual Pharisee, or religious world, who take up notions, and language, and preachers upon second hand from spiritual people, instead of waiting for them directly from the Spirit by the working of faith upon the divine Word. I pray the Lord to bless these discourses.

" I have agreed with Collins about the publication of the Original Standards of the Church, concerning which I pray you to say nothing. I shall write my essay on the salt sea where Knox first matured his idea of the Scottish Eeforma-

tion My dear Isabella, guard against the formalities

which abound on every side of you. Let me find you grounded and strengthened in the spirit of godliness. For the other book*, it is nearly finished. I have just brought to a close the destruction of Babylon. And I have a part to write upon the things which follow till the revelation of our blessed Eedeemer in the clouds of heaven. Pray Grod that my pen may be guided to truth, and that much profit may flow into the Church from what I write !....! pray the Lord to bless you and Edward continually ; write me, when you can do it without wearying yourself or injuring your health. . . . Say to the patriarch that I have got a noble New Testament, in Greek, with all the Glosses and Scholise of the Fathers, with which I delight myself. The Lord bless you all ! Forget not to give my kind regards to Mary, and to encourage her to walk steadfastly in the faith.

" Yours in one body and soul,

" Edward Irving."

The publication referred to in the above letter, the Original Standards of the Church, did not actually ap- pear till many years later, when it came m the shape, not of a simple republication, intended for the edification of all, but as a sharp rebuke and reminder to the Churcli of Scotland, between whom and her devoted son a gulfofseparation had grown. It does not, consequently, belong to this period of his history ; but the fact that

* Babylon and Infidelity Foredoomed. VOL. I. K

•J4J J5A1T1SMAI- KKnr.NKKATlON.

it liad ln'cii N) lonir in liis iiiiml. niid ihiit tlicso docu- nuMit,"* woiv remgnised by liim specially as llic confession of ///.v faith, and as containing: all llu' ddc! lines lor AvhicJi li(? afterwards snlTeivd tlie penalties of tin- Clnncli, is in- t«'reslini: and >iirnilicant. No man in niiulciii limes lias so much proclaimed the merits of those ancient standards, or so jiertinaeiou'^ly rantrcd himself imder th(>ir shelter, as this man, Avhoni the C'hnrch which holds them cut oil' as a heretic.

It will also be seen, from those letters, that Irving had ah'eady found his way to those views of baptism which lie did not pubHsh to the world till some time after. The instincts of fatherhood had quickened his mind in his investigations. He liad found il iin])Ossible, when his thoughts were directed to this subject, to rest in the vagueness of ordinary conceptions ; " We assuredly be- lieve that by baptism -vve are engrafted in Christ Jesus," says simjily that ancient, primitive confession to which lii"^ heart turned as the clearest, simple utterance, un- controversial and single-minded, of the national faith. ^^^len Irving turned toAvards that fjuestioi),he "assuredly believed" the canon he had subscribed atJiis ordination; and receiving it with no hikewaiin and indifrerent be- lief, but with a iaitli inten>e and real, came to regard the ordinance in so much warmer and clearer a hglit than is usual in his Church, that his sentiments seem to ]]ave differed fiom those of the High Cluu'ch party of England, who hold baj)tismal regeneration, by the merest hair's-breadth of distinction — a distinction wliich, indeed, I confess myself unable to appreciate. This intensified and brightened apprehension, which made the ordinance not a sign only, nor a vaguely mysterious conjunction

LITTLE EDAVARDS ILLNESS AND DEATH. 243

of sign and reaKty, but an actual, effeGtual sacrament, rejoiced the new-made father to tlie bottom of his heart. His soul expanded in a deeper tenderness over the chrisom child, whom he "assuredly beheved" to be " engrafted in Christ Jesus. " Years afterwards, he makes a touching acknowledgment of gratitude for this insight — given, as in the fervour and simplicity of his heart he beheved it to be, as a strengthening preparation agahist the sharpest personal anguish of hfe.

In the months of July and August he remained alone in London, living hi the house of his friends Mr. and Mrs. Montagu, and proceeding vigorously, as has been seen, in his labours — with no serious fears respecting the boy who was so dear to his heart, of whom he had received comforting news. In the beginning of Sep- tember, he went to Scotland to join his wife, who was then in expectation of the birth of her second child. But, with the cold autumn winds, trouble and fear came upon the anxious household. The baby, Edward, had raUied so much as to make them forget their former fears on his account ; but it was only a temporary relief. On the second day of October, a daughter was bom ; and for ten days longer, in another room of the house, separated from the poor mother, who, for her other baby's sake, was not permitted ever again, in life, to behold her first-born, little Edward lingered out the troubled moments, and died slowly in his father's agonised sight. The new-born infant was baptized on Sunday, the 9th October, for a consolation to their hearts; and on the Ilth, her brother died. Dr. Martin, of Kirkcaldy, writing to his father — the venerable old man who had baptized little Edward, his descendant

K 2

244 SORROW AND CONSOLATION,

of tlic fourth sionoration — doscribos Avitli tears in liis voic<}, liow, sittiiiLT Ix'sido tlic little boely, he could do notliiuLr hut kneel down ;ind wcr]). till reuiinded of the words used by the ehiUVs lather •" in a sense in which, probably, tliey liave not often been ap[)lietl, but the force of wliieli, at the moment, was very striking, when he saw all about him (hssolved in tears, on viewing the dear infant's cruel struggle, 'Look not at the things

■vvhicli are seen, but at those which are unseen!'"

" Edward and Isabella," he continues, " both bear the

stroke, though sore, Avith wonderful resignation

Two nights ago they resolved, in their conference and prayers concerning him, to surrender him wholly to God

— to consider him as not then- child, but God's

Wlien her husband came down stairs to-day, he said, in reply to a question fi-om her mother, 'She is bearing it as well as one saint could wish to see another do.' — Blessed be the Holy Name ! David will tell you that the little Margaret was received into the Church visible

on Sabbath afternoon I should have said, that

when asseml)led to worship as a family, after all was over. Mr. Imng, before I began to [)iay, requested leave to address us ; and he addressed us, all and several, in the most affectionate and impressive manner. The Lord bless, and fix his words! In testimony of his gratitude for the consolation afforded him and his wife,. lie has gone out to visit and comfort some of the afflicted around us."

The manner in which Irving himself announced this first interruption of his family happiness, with an ele- vation and ecstasy of grief which I do not doubt will go to the hearts of all who have suffered similar

lEViya'S AXNOUNCEMEXT OF HIS CHILD'S DEATH. 245

angiiish, as indeed the writer can scarcely transcribe it without tears, will be seen by the following letter, addressed to WiUiam Hamilton, and written on the day of death itself : —

« Kirkcaldy, llth October, 1825.

"Our deaklt-beloved Friend, — The hand of the Lord hath touched my wife and me, and taken from us our well- beloved child, sweet Edward, who was dear to you also, as he was to all who knew him. But before taking him, He gave unto us good comfort of the Holy Gfhost, as He doth to all His faithful servants ; and we are comforted, verily we are comforted. Let the Lord be praised, who hath visited the lowly, and raised them up !

" If you had been here yesterday and this day when our little babe was taken, you would have seen the stroke of death subdued by faith, and the strength of the grave over- come ; for the Lord hath made His grace to be known unto us in the inward part. I feel that the Lord hath well done in that He hath afflicted me, and that by His grace I shall be a more faithful minister unto you, and unto all the flock committed to my charge. Now is my heart broken — now is its hardness melted ; and my pride is humbled, and my strength is renewed. The good name of the Lord be praised !

" Our little Edward, dear friend, is gone the way of all the earth ; and his mother and I are sustained by the Prince and Saviour who hath abolished death and brought life and im- mortality to light. The affection which you bear to us, or did bear towards the dear child who is departed, we desire that you will not spend it in unavailing sorrow, but elevate it unto Him who hath sustained our souls, even the Lord our Saviour Jesus Christ ; and if you feel giief and trouble, oh, turn the edge of it against sin and Satan to destroy their works, for it is they who have made us to drink of this bitter cup.

" Communicate this to all our friends in the congregation and church, as much as may be, by the perusal of this letter, that they may know the grace of God manifested unto us ; and oh, William Hamilton, remember thyself, and tell them

246 LITTLK KltWAHUS MKM()1{Y.

Jill that thoy aro dust, nii<l llmt tliclr children arc as tlie flowers of the field.

" Nevertheless, God granting nie a safe journey, T will preach at the Caledonian church on Sahbath the 2.'5r(l, though I am c»it ofl' from my purpose of visiting tin; churciie.s by the way. The Lord be with you, and your brethren of the elder- ship, and all the church and congregation.

" Your aflfectionate friend,

" Edward Irving. "My wife joining with me."

With such an ode and outburst of tlic highest strain of grief, brought so close to the gates of heaven, tluit tlie dazzled mourner, ovei'powered with tlie greatness of the anguish and the glory, sees the Lord within, and takes a comfort more pathetic than any lamentation, was the child Edward buried. He was but fifteen mojitlis old ; but either from his natural loveUness, or from the subliming influence of his father's love and grief, seems to have left a memory beliind liim as of the very ideal and flower of infancy. By his father and mother the child wa.s always held in pathetically thankful remem- brance. " Little Edward, tlieir fairest and their first," writes one of Mrs. Ir\ing's sisters, " never lost his place in their affections. Writing of one of her little ones, some years afterwards, my sister said, ' I have said all to you when I tell you that we tliink her very like our little Edward ;' " and the same lady tells us of Irving's answer to somebody who expressed the superficial and common wonder, so often heard, that helpless babies f-hould grow up to be the leaders and guides of the world, in words similar to those wliich break from him in his Preface to Ben-Ezra " Whoso studieth as I

" A GLORIOUS BUD OF BEIXG. 247

have done, and reflecteth as I liave sought to reflect, upon the first twelve months of a child ; whoso hath had such a child to look and reflect upon, as the Lord for fifteen months did bless me withal (whom I would not recall, if a wish could recall him, from tlie enjoy- ment and service of our dear Lord), will rather marvel how the growth of that wonderful creature, which put forth such a glorious bud of being, should come to be so cloaked by the flesh, cramped by the world, and cut short by Satan, as not to become a winged seraph ; will rather wonder that such a puny, heartless, feeble thing as manhood shoidd be the abortive fruit of the rich bud of childhood, than think that childhood is an imperfect promise and opening of the future man. And therefore it is that I grudged not our noble, lovely child, but rather do dehght that such a seed should blossom and bear in the kindly and kmdred paradise of my God. And why should not I speak of thee, my Edward ! seeing it was in the season of thy sickness and death the Lord did reveal in me the knowledge and hope and desire of His Son from heaven ? Glorious exchange ! He took my son to His own more fatherly bosom, and revealed in my bosom the sure expectation and faith of His own eternal Son ! Dear season of my life, ever to be remembered, when I knew the sweetness and fruitfid- ness of such joy and sorrow."

I cannot doubt that the record of this infant's death, and the traces it leaves upon the hfe and words of his sorrowful but rejoicing father, will endear the great orator to many sorrowful hearts. So far as I can perceive, no other event of his hfe penetrated so pro-

•248 IKVlNli VISITS TIIK SOUROWFUL IN KIRKCALDY.

fouiully tlu' (Icpllis of liis spirit. And I ciiiinot lliink it is irreverent to lilt tlu' veil, now tliat both of those most coneerned liavi' rejoined their children, from that sanetnai'V "I" human sormw, laith, and |)alien('e. Those of us "who know sui'h days of darkness may take some courage from tlie sight. Antl such of my readers as may have b(^com(> interested in the domestic portions of this histoiT will he pleased lo jiear that the little daughter, born under such lamentable circumstances, lived to grow up into a beautiful and gifted Avoman, brightened her fathers house during all hishfetime, and died — happily not long before her much-tried and patient mother.

Irving remained in Kirkcaldy al)out a week after this sad event ; during wliich time he occupied himself, " in gratitude for the comfort he had himself received," as it is pathetically said, in visiting all who were sorrcjwful in his father-hi-law's congregation. Then, leaving his Avife to ])erfect her slow and sad recovery in her father's house, until she and the new-boni infant, now doubly precious, were fit to travel, he went aw^ay sadly by himself, to seek comfort and strength in a solitary journey on foot — an apostolical jouniey, in which he carried his Master's message from house to house, along the way — to his father's hoase in Annan. Mrs. Irving and her child remained for some time in Scotland ; and to this circumstance we owe a closer and more faithful picture of Irving's Hfe and heart than anything which a biogra|)her could attempt ; than anything, indeed, which, so far as I am aware, any man of modern days has left behind him.

249

CHAPTER XI.

JOURNAL.

The correspondence which follows needs neither in- troduction nor comment. No one who reads it will need to be told how remarkable it is. It was Irving's first long separation from his wife, and his heart was opened and warmed by that touch of mutual sorrow which gives a more exquisite closeness to all love. This perfect revelation of a man's heart, and of a husband's trust and confidence, is given by permission of the remaining children of his house. It will be seen to begin from the time of his leaving Kirkcaldy, after the sorrows above recorded.

" Annan, 18tli October, 1825.

" My deaeest Wife, — I am grieved that I should have missed this day's post, by the awkwardness of the hour of making up the bag at noon precisely, beyond which I was carried, before I knew that it was past, by the many spiritual duties to which I felt called in my father's house and my sister's. . . . But I know my dear Isabella will not grieve half so much on this account as I have done myself. . . . And now, having parted with all the household, J sit down here, at the solemn hour of midnight, to write you how it is with me, and has been since I left you, first praying that this may find you and our dear babe as I left you, increased in strength.

" Andrew bore me company to Peebles, and will inform you of my journey so far. We parted at two o'clock on the south

250 WANOKRINCS .\M()N(i TlIK HILLS.

side of Poebles liiidjro, and T took my solitary way up Glen Sark, c^illinjr at every sliepherd's house alouLj my route, to (»l)tain an opportunity of adnionishini; motlicr and children of their mortality, and so i)roeee(led till I set my face to climb the hill which von must i)ass to get out of the Eflen. In ascending which, I had the sight and feeling of a new phenomenon among the moimtains, a terrible hail-stonn, which swept down the side of the opposite mountain, and came upon me with such a violence as required all my force (»f hand and foot to keep erect, obliterating my meagre path, and leaving me in the wildest mountain, wholly at a non- plus, to steer my way ; until the sun l)reaking out, or rather streaking the w^estwith a bright light, I found myself holding right east instead of south, and night threatening to be upon me before I could clear the unknown wild. 1 was lonely enough ; but, committing my way unto the Lord, I held south as nearly as I could guess, and reached the solitary house in the head of another water, of which Sam may recollect some- thing; where, forgathering with a shepherd, I got directions, and set my breast against Black-house heights, and reached my old haunts on Douglas Burn, where, in answer to the apostolic benediction which I carried everywhere, I received a kindly offer of tea, night's lodging, then a horse to carry me through the wet, all of which in my haste refusing, I took my way over the rough grounds which lie between that and Dryhope by Loch St. Mary. My adventures here with the Inverness-shire herds and the dogs of Dryhope Tower (a perfect colony, threatening to devour me with open mouth), I cannot go into, and leave it to the discourse of the lip. Here I waded the Yarrow at the foot of the loch, under the crescent moon, where, finding a convenient rock beneath some overhanging branches which moaned and sighed in the breeze, I sat me down, while the wind, sweep- ing, brought the waters of the loch to my feet ; and I paid my devotions to the Lord in His own ample and magnificent temple ; and sweet meditations were afforded me of thee, our babe, and our departed boy. My soul was filled with sweet- ness. ' I did not ask for a sign,' as Colonel Blackadder says ; Vjut when I looked up to the moon, as I came out from the ecclesia of the rock, she looked as never a moon had

AX APOSTOLICAL JOURXEY. 251

looked before in my eye, — as if she had been washed in dew, which, speedily clearing off, she looked so bright and beauti- ful ; and on the summit of the opposite hill a little bright star gleamed upon me, like the bright, bright eye of our darling. Oh, how I wished you had been with me to partake the sweet solacemeut of that moment ! Of my adventure with the shepherd-boy Andrew, whose mother's sons were all squandered abroad among the shepherds, and oiu- prayer upon the edge of the mountain, and my welcome at the cot- tage, and cold reception at the farm-house, I must also be silent, till the living pen shall declare them unto you. Only, I had trial of an Apostolic day and night, and slept sweetly, after blessing my wife and child. Xext day I passed over to the grave of Boston, at Ettrick, where I ministered in the manse to the minister's household, and tracked my way up into Eskdale, where, after conversing with the martyr's tomb (Andrew Hyslop's), I reached the Ware about half an hour after George, who had brought a gig up to Orange, and from that place had crossed the moor to meet me ; and by re- turning upon his steps, we reached home about eleven o'clock. But such weather ! I was soaked, the case of my desk was utterly dissolved, and the mechanical ingenuity of Annan is now employed constructing another. But I am well, very well ; and for the first time have made proof of an Apostolical journey, and found it to be very, very sweet and profitable. Whether I have left any seed that will grow, the Lord only knows.

" Many, many are the tender and loving sympathies towards you which are here expressed, and many the anxious wishes for your welfare and hope of seeing you, when, without danger,

you can undertake it I shall never forget, and never

repay, the tender attentions of all your dear father's house- hold to me and mine. The Lord remember them with the love He beareth to His own. I affectionately, most affection- ately, salute them all The Lord comfort and foster

your spirit. The Lord enrich our darling, and make her a Mary to us

" Your most affectionate husband,

•Edward Irving."

262 AXNAX.

" Carlisle, 21st Octobor, 1825.

" "Mv HEAR IsAHEi.LA, Tlius far I am arrivL'd .siifely,and find that my seat is tjvken out in tiie London mail to-morrow evening at seven o'clock. 1 left all my lather's family in goo<l liealth, full of aficction to me, and, I trust, not without faith and love towards God. iSIr. Fer<j^usson and IMargaret ami the two elde,st boys came do^vn from Dumfries on Wed- nesday, and added much to our domestic enjoyment, which, but for the pain of parting so soon, was as complete as ever I had felt it ; for, though my heart wa.s very cold, I persevered, l)y the force, I fear, rather of strong resolution than of spiritual affection, to set before them their duties to God and to the souls of their children. They spoke all very tenderly of yon, and feel much for your weal, and long for the time when they shall be able to comfort you in person. Thomas Carlyle came down to-day, and edified me very much with

his discourse. Dr. Duncan came down with C M ,

who, poor lad, seems fast hastening into one of the worst forms of Satanic pride. He desires solitude, he says, and hates men.

" Your short pencilled note was like honey to my soul; and though I have not had the outpouring of soul for you, little baby, and mj'self which I desire, I hope the Lord will enable me this night to utter my spiritual affections before His throne. I am an unworthy man — a poor, miserable servant, — unworthy to be a doorkeeper; how unworthy to be a minister at the altar of His house ! I shall write you when I reach London. Till tli<'ii may the Lord be your defence, my dear lamb's nourishment and strength, Mary's encourage- ment, and the sustenance of your unworthy head. Rest you, my dear, and be untroubled till the Lord restore your health ; then cease not to meditate upon, and to seek the improve- ment of our great trial, which may I never forget, and as oft as I remember, exercise an act of submission imto the will of God. This is written at the fire of the public room among my fellow-travellers. The Laird of Dornoch, Tristram Lowther the wilful, where I waited for the coach, expressed a great desire that, when you came to the country, you would

visit him

" Your true and faithful husband,

" EnWAitD IltVINO."

INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COACH JOURNEY. 253

" Myddelton Terrace, 25th October, 1825.

"My deak Wife, beloved in the Lord, — I bless you and our little child, and pray that the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ may be with you and all the house.

" I reached London late (eleven o'clock) on Saturday night, by the good preservation of Grod, — to which, when I sought at times to turn the minds of my fellow-travellers, I seemed unto them as one that mocked ; but though we were a grace- less company, we were preserved by the Lord. On our journey there occurred nothing remarkable except one thing which, for its singular hospitality, I resolved to recount to you. Our road lay through Eutlandshire, and half way between Upping- ham and Kettering, there appeared before us, on the top of a hill, an ancient building, but not like any castle which I had ever seen before, — being low and irregular, and covering a deal of ground, and built, you would say, more for hospitality and entertainment than strength. I make no doubt, from the form of the structure, it is as old as the Saxon times, and belonged to one of those franklins of whom Walter Scott speaks in ' Ivanhoe.' .... Now mark, when our road, swing- ing up the hill, came to the gate of this mansion, which was a simple gate, — not a hold, or any imitation of a hold, of strength — to my astonishment, the guard of the mail descended and opened the gate, and in we drove to the park and gate of the castle, where they were cutting wood into billets, which were lying in heaps, for the sake of the poor in the village beneath the hill. One of these billets they laid in the wheel of the coach, for the hill is very steep ; and while I meditated what all this might mean, thinking it was some service they were going to do for the family, out came from a door of the castle a very kindly-looking man, bearing in a basket bread and cheese, and in his hand a pitcher full of ale, of which he kindly invited us all to partake, and of which we all partook most heartily, for it was now past noon, and we had travelled far since breakfast — from Nottingham. . . . So here I paid my last farewell to ale, and am now a Nazarite to the sense. Oh, that the Lord would make me a Nazarite indeed from all lusts of the flesh ! . . . . Eemember this hos- pitable lord in your prayers. He is my Lord Londes, and his

'254 AKKIVAL AT IIOMK.

place is Rockin<;li:nn Ca-stlc The M.iil-cDiU'h li;i(li iliis])ri\i- legc from hiiu at all times, ami, I uiiderstaud, (liuin<^ thegreat fall of snow, he took the pai>si'ngt'is in. ami eutertaiiu'd them for several davs, until they were able to get forward.

" I arrived, I say, at eleven o'clock, and Alexander Ilaniilton wa-s waiting for me at the Angel, with whom 1 walked to this bouse of mourning, and found JIall getting better, and all things prepared by his worthy wife for my comfort. So here I am resolved to abide, and meditate my present trials and widowhood for a time. lint I forget not, morning and evening, to bless you, and our dear little lamb, and Mary our faithful servant, and to sue for blessings to you all from the Lord ; and truly I feel very lonely to ascend those stairs, and lie down upon my lonely bed. But the Lord filled me with some strong consolations when I thought that a spirit calling me father, and thee mother, might now be ministering at His throne. I do not remember ever being so uplifted in soul. Yesterday I travailed much in spirit for the people, and preached to them with a full heart ; that is, compared with myself; but measured by the rule of Christian love, how poor, how cold, how sinful I This morning I have had the younger Sottomayor* with me. Would you cause inquiries to be made what likelihood there is of his succeeding as a Spanish teacher in Edinburgh ? . . . . Before setting out, I resolved to write 3'ou, however briefly, that your heart might be comforted ; for are not you my chief comfort ? and ought not I to be yours, according to my ability ? I assure you, all

• This was one of two hrothen?, Spaniards, the elder of whom had been abb<jt of a monasteiy, and had more than once been intrusted with missions to Komc. lie had been enlightened by a copy of the Bible in the liVjrary of his convent, and after a while had been obliged to flee from the terrors of the Incjuisition. lie could speak scarcely any English, but was kindly helped to acqiure it by the ladies of Mr. Indng's family. The younger was a s(ddier, brought to Protestantism as much hy love for his brother as by love for the truth. Irving exerted himself in htehalf of both, and treated them with great and constant kindness. The abb^ married a lady whose confessor he had been, and whom he had insensibly led intf) his own views, and, a.s a consequence, into persecution — but died early, leaving his widow to the protection of his devoted brother.

COMMENCEMENT OF JOURNAL-LETTERS. 255

the people were glad to see me back again, and condoled with us with a great grief. The Lord bless them with all consolations in their day of affliction. The church was as usual very crowded, and I had much liberty of utterance

granted me of the Lord I desire my love to your

dear father and mother, and my most dutiful obedience as a son of their house. My brotherly affection to all your sisters, who were parents to our Edward ; and to our brothers, who loved him as their own bowels. Oh, forget not any of you the softening chastisement of the Lord. Walk in His fear, and let your hearts be comforted.

" Your most affectionate husband and pastor of your soul,

" Edward Irving."

" Say to Mary : ' Pray for the Comforter, even the Spirit of truth, which proceedeth from the Father.'"

After his arrival in London, his letters take the form of a journal, commenced as follows : —

" Let me now endeavour to express, for the informa- tion of my dear wife, and for her consolation under our present sore trial, and for tlie entertainment of her present separation from me, and the gratification of all her spousal affections, and, by the grace of God, for the building up of her faith in Christ, and her love towards her husband, whatever hath occurred to the experience of my soid this day, and whatever hath occupied my thoughts in this my study, and whatever hath engaged my activity out of doors ; and for her sake may the Lord grant me a faithful memory and a true utterance.

" 2^th. — This morning I arose a little after seven o'clock, in possession of my reason and of my health, and not without aspirations of soul towards the com- munion of God ; but poor and heartless when com- pared with those experiences of the Psalmist, whose

•j.'ir. Moi{MN(i woKSinr.

I^rayers provontod tlio dmvninL; of tlic morniniz, nnd liis mediliitioiis tlic iiiL(ht-wak-hcs ; and my soul being ailliftcd witli tlie dowiiwarduci^s, and Avaiulering of spirit, and coldness of heart, towards the God of my salvation, in tlie moniinir, which is as it were a new resurrection, it was IxM'ne in u])on my mind tliat it arose in a great measure fn)m my not realising with abiding constancy the Mediator between me and God, but breakinrj throuLdi, as it were, to comnnino witli TTim in my own strength — whereby the lightning did scathe my soul, or rather my soul abode in its barrenness, imwatered from the living fountain, in its slaveiy unre- deemed by the Captain of my salvation, who will be acknowledged before lie will bless us, or rather who must be honoured in order that we may stand well in the sight of the Father. When the family were assem- bled to prayers in the little hbrary (our family consists at present of Mrs. Hall, her niece, a sweet young woman out of Somersetshire, and a servant maid, and Hall, who is not able to come down stairs till afternoon), IVIiss Dalzell * and Jier sister came in to consult me concern- ing the unsuitable behaviour of one of the Sabbath school teachers, who was becoming a scandal unto the rest of the teachers, and had b('oii a sore trouble to her, and whom Satan was moving to trouble the general peace of the Society. Under whicli alUiction, having given her what present comfort the Lord enabled rae, I refrained from any positive d(;liverance, or even hint- ing any idea, till the matter should come before our committee — against wliich may the Lord grant me and

• A lady who had been the means of establishing a system of local .Sabbath schools.

HISTOEICAL BEADING. 257

all the teachers the spirit of wise counsel to meet and defeat this device of the Evil One. How the tares grow up among the wheat in every society, and, alas ! in every heart ! The Lord root them out of my soul, though the pain be sore as the plucking out a right eye or a right hand. After worship and breakfast I com- posed myself to read out of a book of old pamphlets concerning the Kevolution, one which contains a minute journal of the expedition of the Prince of Orange, for the Protestant cause, into England, from the day of his setting out to the day of his coronation ; which, wiitten as it is in a spiritual and bibhcal style, brought more clear convictions to my mind that this passage of history is as wonderful a manifestation of God's arm as any event in the history of the Jews ; being the judgment of the Stewarts, the reward of the Orange house, the liberation of the sealed nation from its idolatrous oppressors, and the beginning of the humiliation of France, which went on for a century and was consum- mated in the Eevolution, of which the remote cause was in the expensive wars of Louis XIV., exhausting the finances, and causing Louis XVI. to be a ' raiser of taxes,' according to Daniel's prophecy. Oh, that some one would follow the history of the Christian Church, and embody it in chronicles in the spirit of the books of Samuel ! There is no presumption, surely, in giving a spiritual account of that which we know from the prophecies to be under spiritual administration. After- wards I addressed myself to Bishop Overall's Convoca- tion book, concerning the government of the Catholic Church and the kingdoms of the whole world, which digests, under short chapters, the history of God's reve- VOL. I. s

•258 Risiior ovi:ralls convocation nooK.

lation, aiul nppoiids a canon to cacli. Tn llic first twenty-two of which clKi})tors and canons I Avas aston- islied to find tlio full declaration of what had l)(>en dawning upon my mind, viz. that the maxim, which since Locke's time lias been the basis of all govern- ment, 'that all power is derived from the people, and held of the people for the people's good,' is in truth the basis of all revolution and radicalism, and the dissolu- tion of all government ; and that governors and judges, of whatever name, hold their place and authority of God for ends discovered in His Word, even as people yield obedience to laws and magistrates hj the same highest authority. Also it pleased me to find how late sprung is the notion among our levelling dissenters, that the magistrate hath no power in the Church, and liOAv universal was the notion anion i? the reformers and divines that the magistrate is bound to put down idol- atry and will- worship, and provide for the right re- ligious instruction of the people. That subject of toleration needs to be reconsidered ; the liberals have that question wholly their own way, and therefore I know that there must be eiTor in it ; f(jr where Satan is, there is confusion and every evil work.

" I went out into the garden to walk before dinner, and with difficulty refrained my tears to think how oft and with what sweet dehght I hud borne my dear, dear boy along that walk, witli my dear wife at my side ; but had faith given me to see his immortality in another world, and rest satisfied with my Maker's Avill. Sir Peter LawTie called after dinner, and be- sought me, as indeed have many, to go and live with him ; but nothing shall tempt me from this sweet soU-

" IDOMTRY OF THE MEMORY. 259

tude of retirement, and activity of consolation, and

ministry to the afflicted Wlien he was gone I

went forth upon my outdoor ministry, and as I wall^ed to ]\Ir. Wliyte's, along the terraces overlooking those fields where we used to walk, three in one, I was sore, sore distressed, and found the temptation to ' idolatry of the memory;' which the Lord delivered me from — at the same time giving the clue to the subject which has been taking form in my mind lately, to be treated as arising out of my trial ; and the form in which it presented itself is ' the idolatry of the affections,' which will embrace the whole evil, the whole remedy, and the sound condition of all relations. I proceeded to IVirs. S., and, being somewhat out of spirits, was tempted of Satan to return, but having been of late much exercised upon the necessity of imphcit obedience to the will of God, I hastened to proceed, and was richly rewarded in an interview with the mother and daughter, wherein my mouth was opened, as was their heart, and I trust seed was sown which will bear fruit. Then I returned home through the chm'chyard, full of softness of heart Upon my return home I ad- dressed myself to a discourse upon the text, ' To me to live is Christ, and to die gain,' until the hoiu' of evening prayer, when I gathered my little flock, and having commended all our sphits and all our beloved ones to the Father of mercies, we parted, — they to their couches, where I trust they now sleep in peace ; I to this sweet office of affection, which I now close with the deep closing knell of St. Paul's sounding twelve in my ear. My beloved Isabella, you are sleeping upon your pillow ; the God of Jacob make it rich and

260 DEVOTION .\XD STUDY.

divine as llio pillow of P:i(l;uiar:un ! INfj' litllo darlinix, thou art ivstintj on iliv motlu-r's bosom ; tlie Lord inako tlioc unt»> us what Isaac was to Ahrahain and Sarah ! rari'Wi'll. my beloved !

"•27/// ( Jctolxr. — 1 am so worn out with work that I fear it is a vain undertaking to which I now addi'esa myself, of giving sonic accoinit of the day's transactions to my dear wife. I began the day with a sweet exercise of private devotion, wherein the Lord gave me more than usual composure of soul ; and having descended, we read together the fourth chapter of Job, and prayed earnestly that the Lord would enable us to fulfd His will ; at and after breakfast I read the seventy-third Psalm in Hebrew, and in the Greek New Testament the first chapter of Hebrews. After which I went to my solitary walk in the garden, and was exercised with many thoughts Avhich came clothed in a cloud, but passed encircled Avitli a rainbow. As I walked I em- ployed myself in committing to memory some Hebrew roots. Having returned to my study, I addressed my- self to read two or three additional chapters and canons in the Convocation book, and am a good deal shaken concerning the right of subjects to take arms against their sovereign. Thereafter I laboured at my dis- course, in the composition of which I find a new style creeping upon me, whether for the better or for the worse I know not ; Init this I knr)w, that I seek more and more earnestly to be a tongue unto the Holy Spirit. My dinner being ended I returned to my readings, and sought to entertain my mind with a volume of my book of ancient voyages, which delights me with its simphcity. I had a call from Mr. M , and Dr.

VISIONS OF THE NIGHT. 261

M with him. I was enabled to be very faithful,

and I trust with some good effect Then I went

to church to meet my young communicants, and the spiritual part of my people. But of all that passed, sweet and profitable, I am unable to write, with diffi- culty forming my thoughts into these feeble words. The Lord send refreshing sleep to my dear wife and httle babe, and to His servant, who has the satisfaction of having wearied himself in His service. Farewell !

" 28^A October, Thursday. — This day, my best beloved, has been to me a day of activity and not of study, feehng it necessary to he by and refresh my head, whose faintness or feebleness hindered my spirit from expressing itself last night to its beloved mate. My visions of the night were of our dearly beloved boy, whose death I thought all a mistake or falsehood, and that he was among our hands stiU ; but this iUusion was accompanied with such prayers and refreshings of soul, and all so hallowed, that I awoke out of it nowise dis- appointed with the sad reality ; and having arisen, I addressed myself to the cleansing of body and soul, and especially besought the Lord for simple and im- phcit obedience to Hjs holy wiU, of which prayer, methinks, I have this day experienced the sweet and gracious answer. At family prayers and breakfast there assembled Mx. Hamilton, our brother : Mi-. Darling, one of the flock, who came to consult concerning the schools, for which they wish a collection, to which I am the more disposed that all other means have failed ; Mr. Thompson, the preacher who visited us at Kirk- caldy, and came to present me with his httle rehgious novel of The Martyr, a talc of the first century;

2fi2 15Ki:.\KFAST TAliTV.

opus perdhrwilt' ; Mr. M . ciirnli^ of our parish of

Clorkeinvcll, ^vllo faun,' to couhiuuk' willi luc coikhtii- iiig Sottoinayor and the aflairs of the i)aris]i, a man ol" zeal, but I fear not of uuicli wisdom, yet devoted to the Lord ; ^Ir. Ji)hustoue, a youuj^' hiwyer from Ahi- wick, four years an iuiuate of Pears' liouse*, a Clu-istiau likewise, but of the llaiheal or Dissentiug-for-disseutiug- sake school; — I trust men of God: and a sweet thouglit it is to me tliat the Lord should encompass my table with Ilis servants. For whose entertainment Mrs. Ilall (best and frugallest of housekeepers) had prepared a ham and other eatables, with which, and tea, not over strong, we were Avell pleased and thankful to satisfy our hunger. After breakfast Ave set out (which liad been projected between Mr. Hamilton and me) to see the walls of the new church, arising out of the earth in massive strength to more than the height of a man, where we found Mr. Dinwiddle, Avith his daughters, of wdiom he would not allow one to go to Edinl)urgh on a visit of months without having seen it, to carry the re[)orts of our work. This careful elder having pointed to ^Ir. Hamilton the remissness of the overseer to be on his post betimes, we proceeded to the city ; I to visit the flock, they to their honest caUings. In Mr.

H 's ho.spitim-n of business, and general rendezvous

of Caledonian friends, I wrote for Elizabeth Dinwiddle a letter of pastoral commendation to Mrs. Gordon, througli whom, Avlfe of my heart and sharer of my joys, you ^ylil find her out if you should be I'esident in the city. Li the room of shawls, muslin, and muslin-boxes, wliich

• The school-hou.se at Abbotshall, Kirkcaldy, referred to in Chapter IV.

A DAY IN THE CITY. 263

your father found cool as the refreshing zephyrs, there were four Greeks, negotiating with Alexander, by the universal language of the exchange," the ten digits, for one other common sign had they not. They were small, strong, well-built fellows, turbaned, with black hair curhng from beneath high skull-caps : and yet, I think, though they had fire in their look, one or two English seamen carry as much battle in their resolute faces as did these four outlandish mariners. But I hastened to another conflict, — the conflict of sorrow and sickness, in the house of our dear brother David, whose hurt in

his head threatens him grievously In my first

visit I hked the complexion of his sickness, ill ; he was then so moved and over-acted by my visit, that we judged it best that I should not have an interview with him. He had spoken much and delightfully to his

excellent wife I gathered the family together,

and having spoken to them, we had a season of prayer.

From whence I proceeded to Mr. L , in order to

exhort him and his wife concerning their children, and especially concerning the Sacrament of Baptism, which they sought for the youngest, two months old. They are two saints, as I judge, and our communing was sweet. Thence I passed to Whitecross Street, in order

to visit an old couple, Alexander M and his wife

(he whom we got into the pension society). They are sadly tried with two sons, one of whom has fits of madness ; the other, according to his father's account, ' has caught the fever of the day,' become infidel, which he tells me is amazingly spread amongst the tradesmen. Having exhorted them to zeal and steadfastness, I passed on to Sottomayor's, whom I found correcting a Spanish

264 BOOK-STALLS.

translation of DoililridLre's ' Iviso and riwress : ' and after much sweet discourse — for, dear Isabella, he proves well — liis wife eame up, and he interpreted be- tween us. She is peqilexed most to give u\) the honour of the Virgin — I should say the idolatry of the Virgin. I prayed witli them, as hi every other place, and has- tened borne, expecting letters from my Isabella, which I found not, at rcntonvillo. Thence I passed, peeping at the book-stalls, and sometimes going a step out of my way, but purchasing nothing, though sore tempted with St. Bernard's works, mitil I reached Bedford Square, where I found the tw^o proof-sheets with the letter, which was like water to my soul. But one o'clock has struck. William Hamilton came at six, when wc went to Sir Peter's After which, re- turning home with sweet discourse, I assembled my family, and when I prayed there wept one, I know not wliich (may they be tears of penitence and contrition !) ; and ha\ing supped upon my cu]) of milk and slice of toast, I have "wrought at this sweet occupation till this early hour. And now% with a husband's and a father's blessing upon my sleeping treasures, — a master's bless- ing on my faithful servant, and a son and brother's upon all your house, — I go to commit myself to the arms of Him who slumbers not nor sleeps. Farewell.

" Walthairistow, 29^A, Friday. — This morning, my dear Isabella, I excused myself a little longer rest, Ijy the lateness of my home-returning last night and my ■weariness, which you w^ill observe is not right, for un- less there be some fixed hour there can be no regu- larity, of wliich the great use is to fonn a restraint upon our wilfulness. Moreover, I always find that the work of

CHKISTIAJf COUNSEL. 265

the Lord proceeds with me during the day accordino- to my readiness to serve Him in the morning. Oh, when shall my eyes prevent the morning, that I might meditate in His law or hft up my soul unto His throne ! After our morning prayers, our friend Mr. W. came in, much grieved in spirit by the vexations of the world, and the mistreatments of one whom he thought his friend. But I told him that liis faith was unremoved and unremovable, and his wife and children spared to him, and daily bread furnished out to them ; therefore, he ought not so sadly to grieve himself. .... I addressed myself to my main occupation of preparing food for my people, beginning a lecture upon the first three verses of the eighth chapter of Luke, which I sought to introduce by giving a sketch, chiefly taken from the preceding chapter, of what kuid His mmistry was hkely to be in these cities. In which I think I had no small hberty granted to my mind and to my pen, for which I had earnestly besought the Lord in the morning. And having well exhausted myself by about one o'clock, and brought the discoiu-se to a resting place, I judged I could not do better than gather my im- plements and walk over to Walthamstow, that I might have the more time with our afflicted friends. ... I pursued my road alone, reflecting much upon the emptiness of all our expectations, and the transitoriness of all our enjoyments, seeing that the last time I travelled that way, I had pleased myself with having found a road through the park, by which you and I and dear Edward might oft walk out of a summer eve to see our friends ; and now Httle Edward and our esteemed friend are in the dust. Be it so. I praise the Lord for

liGti IN FAINTNESS AND rEIlYOUIl.

His goodness, and so do you, my dearest wife. I foinid

our dear friends as I eoiild liave wislied Having

assembled tlie family, and enoouraired lliem to stand fast in tlie Lord, and see His Avunders, Ave joined in worslii}), and tlie ladies retired, leaving me in this room, dear, and sitting in the spot where our friend used so

cheerfully to entertain us Oh, Isabella, my

soul is sometimes stiirnl up, and sometimes languishes Avitli nuieli faintness, yet with a very faint as well as a veiy fervent cry, I will entreat Ilim that I may be wholly Ilis, in my strength and in my weakness. I pray for you all continually. I bless you and our dear babe night and morning, not forgetting Mary, whom I

entreat to advance, and not to go back Now,

my dearest, how glad should we be that the fresh, free air of our house was eminently serviceable to Hall, ANith whom it miglit have gone very hard in his con- fined place. The servant is now about to leave us ; and then we are Hall, his wife, his wife's cousin, three

most worthy people So be wholly at rest, my

dearest, concerning my comfort, and regulate your time wholly by consideration for your health and dear [Margaret's. The solitude does me good. It teaches me my blessedness in such a wife, which I have much

forgotten, but now, thank God, forget not But

time hastens, and my eyes grow heavy and my concep- tions dull. Tlie Lord, who preser\Td the Virgin and the Blessed Babe on their journey tQ Egypt, preserve my "Nvife and balje, and bring them in safety to their home, and their home in my heart. Tliis night may His arms be around you, and soft and gentle sleep seal your eye- lids, and when you awake, may you be with Him. Amen.

"FOE THE COXSOLATION OF EDTTARD S MOTHEK." 267

"29^A, Saturday. —

" ' Long have I viewed, long have I thought, And trembling held the bitter draught ; But now resolved and firm I'll be. Since 'tis prepared and mixed by Thee.

" ' I'll trust my great Physician's skill, What He prescribes can ne'er be ill ; No longer will I groan or pine. Thy pleasure 'tis — it shall be mine.

" ' Thy medicine oft produces smart,

Thoii woimd'st me in the tenderest part ; All that I prized below is gone ; Yet, Father, still Thy will be done.

'' ' Since 'tis Thy sentence I shall part With what is nearest to my heart ; My little all I here resign, And lo ! my heart itself is Thine.

" ' Take all, Great God. I will not grieve, But wish I still had more to give ; I hear Thy voice, Thou bid'st me quit This favour'd gourd : and I submit.'

" These lines, my dearest, were brouglit in for the

consolation of Mrs. I by the two pious sisters in

whom our departed friend used to rejoice so much. I thought them so pious and obedient in their spirit that I immediately copied them out for the con- solation of Edward's mother. Dear Isabella, if the fruit of our marriage had been no more than to give birth and being to so sweet a spiiit, I would bless the Lord that He had ever given you to my arms.

"I am in Dr. M 's back dhiing-room, so far on my

way home. ... So, to place myself in the sweetest com- pany which the world possesses for me, I have taken my pen in hand. I know not how it is, my dear, that

268 Tin: SELilKT OF FELLOWSllir.

I find not the conmuniion I looked for in tlie company

of Mrs. 1 . Her mind is ridL:;ety or lliLxlity; I know

n(.)t whicli. ... S> it is with me also, ami with all others who nourish their own will in its hidden places. An evidence, my dear, of those who nourish their own will, is the carelessness which they have in expressin<T their thouirht^and manifestin<T it to others. Ijeini^ manifest to themselves, they stop short, and heed not the further reveahng it. IIow this has been my character, and that

of Mrs. I ! Hence our inability to enter into com-

mmiion ; for communion implies one common, not two several minds. The true access and assurance of good society* is the communion of the Iloly Spirit, Avliich if you cultivate, my beloved wife, it will be well for you in all relations, and so also for me. As Christ is the author of all true regidation of the mind or under- standing, or reason, so the Holy Ghost is the author of all true love and affection and communion, out of Avhich

all foniis of society spring. But for Miss B , I

think her, so far as I can judge, a faithful and true dis- ciple of the Lord ; rather, i)erhaps, over-theological, and not enough ])ractised in the inward obedience of the mind. Oh, my dearest, this obedience is the perfec- tion of the Christian, — obedience in the thought, obe- dience in the feeling, obedience in the action. Think much of this, for it is true, true / As I came over these fields and marshes, and by that running water, there revived in me some effeminate feelings, which convince me that there is an intimate connection between the softer and more luxurious forms of nature, and the

• Irving uses tTiis word in the Scotch sense — good company, fellowship. The social faculty is evidently what he means.

INFLUENCE OF THE LANDSCAPE. 269

softer passions of the mind ; for I am never visited with any such fleshly thoughts when moving througli the mountams and wilds of my native country ; and to my judgment this tendency of visible beauty, variety, and richness, to cultivate the sensual part of our nature, which obscures the intellectual and moral, is the true account that, being left to themselves without rehgion, the people of the plains sink into lethargy and luxury of soul far sooner than the people of the mountains. The eye hath more to do with the flesh than any other sense, although they be all its vile ministers. Oh, when shall I be deUvered from these base bonds? When shall I desire to be delivered, and loath them with my soul ?

" Dr. M. interrupted me, and I now write by my fire- side, whither the Lord has conducted me again in safety, preparing all things for my reception. I have finished both my discourses, and have had a season of discourse and prayer with the three women whose tears are the tokens of their emotion. Oh, that they may be saved ! . .

Dr. M pleases me not a little. He is an exact,

but formal man, yet he seems to possess more insight into theology than I had thought. One discourse was profitable, and full of argument. The University * makes progress, and the goodnatured Doctor thinks he has mel- lowed them into the adoption of some measure defensive of religion. He pleases himself with the thought that Dr. Cox can do everything or anything with Brougham. ' The man who thinks he hath Brougham captive hath

* London University, which was then being established, and which, in consequence of the exclusion of religion, Irving strenuously opposed.

270 WISDOM AND TOWEU.

cflught a Tartar. ITo lias more of tlic wliirlpool quality in him than any man I liavo met with ; and he careth not for wisdom, but for power only.' These were some of my exclamations in the midst of the Doctor's sim- plicity. ( )l)serve, Isabella, that the pliilosopher, or lover of wisdom, is a grade higher tiian the lovers of power, or the monarchs who have reached it. Hence, when a truly great man chances to be a king, he desires wisdom moreover, as Alfred did, and others after, as Justinian and Xapoleon ; but no philosopher ever cared to be a king. Pythagoras, or Plato, or Socrates, for instance. There are no philosophers now-a-days, be- cause they are all ambitious of power or eminence. Even Basil ^Montagu is desirous of power, — that is, his own will ; and Coleridge is desirous of power, — that is, the goodwill of others, or the idolatry of himself. The Christian is both priest and king, a minister of wisdom and a possessor of power. The rest I leave to your own reflections. I had much earnest discourse with

!Mr. T , on our way home, concerning his vocation.

The Lord be his defence. And now, Edward Irving, another day hath passed over thy head, and hast thou occupied the time well? Art thou worthy of to- morrow y I have passed the day amiss, and am not worthy of to-morrow. I have been in communion with myself. I have loved myself better than another. I know not whether I have been altogether temperate ; and yet will I praise the Lord, for I have prayed oft, and I have written my discourses in a spiritual frame of mind. But, oh ! my meditations, why centre ye at home so much ? Now may the Lord prepare me for to-mon'ow's holy dawn, and all my people, and give

PRAYEKS FOR THE ABSEXT. 271

me strength to beget one unto Christ, whom I may call my son ! How doth my sweet daughter, my dear child ? Thou seed of an immortal ! the Lord make light thy swaddhng band, and salvation thy swathing round about thee ! And thou, my most excellent wife ! when shall these eyes behold thee, and these hps call thee blessed, and these arms embrace thee ? In the Lord's good time. When Thou judgest it to be best, oh my God, direct them to a good time, and conduct them by a healthy way. Thou doest all things well. And this night encircle them with Thy arm where they lie, and bless the house where they dwell for their sake. Make my wife like the ancient women, and my child hke the seed of the Fathers of Thy Church. And, oh, that Thy sen^ant might be held in remembrance by the generation of the godly. Bless also Thine handmaiden, our faithful servant. Even so, my family, let the bless- ing of God encompass us all.

" Sunday^ ^Oth. — This has been to me a day to be held in remembrance, my dearest wife, for the strength with which the Lord hath endowed me to manifest his truth. I pray it may be a day to be remembered for the strength with which He hath endowed many of my people to conceive truth and bring forth its fruitfulness. Li the morning I arose before eight, and havmg sought to purify myself by prayer for the sanctification of the Sabbath, I came down to the duties of my family — but before passing out of my bed-chamber, let me take warn- ing, and admonish my dear Isabella how necessary it is for the first opening of our eyelids upon the sweet light of the morning to open the eye of our soul upon its blessed light, which is Christ, otherwise the tempter will

•J7J LNTKKCKDING KOK TllK TKorLi:.

carry us; awa^' 1»> li^ok ii])oii sonii- vanity or folly in the kingdom of this wtM'lil, and so divert our souls as that, Avlien tlicy come to lift themselves up to God, they shall ilnd no concentration of spirit upon God, no sweet How vi' li'ily desires, no strong feeling of want to extort sup- plication or groanmgs of soul — so that we sludl have complainings of absence instead of consolations of Ilis holy presence ; harroimrss and leanness for faithfulness and beauty. So, alas, I iound it in the morning, but the Lord heard the voice of my crying, and sent me this instruction, which may He enable me and my dear wife to profit from in the time to come. After our family worship, in which I read the first Chapter of the Hebrews, as preparatory to reading it in the church, Mr. Liuwiddie, our wortliy and venerable elder, came in as usual, and we joined in prayer for the blessing of the Lord upon tlic ministry of the Word this day throughout all tlie churches, and especially in Uie church and congregation given into our hand ; whereupon he departed, having some preparations to make before the sei'vice, and I went alone, meditating upon that first of Hebrews, which has occupied my tliouglits so much all the week. We Ijegan by singing tlie first six verses of the forty-fiftli Psalm, whose reference to Messiah I shortly instructed the people to l>ear in mind. In prayer I found much liberty, especially in confession of sin and hu- mihation of soul, for the poople seemed bowed down, veiy still and silent, and full of solemnity — then, having read the first of Hebrews, I told them that it was the epistle for instructing tliem in the person and offices of Christ as our mediator, Ijoth priest and king ; but that it wholly bore upon the present being of the man

A SUNDAY S SERVICES. 273

Christ Jesus, from the time that he was begotten from the dead, not upon his former being, from eternity before He became flesh, which was best to be understood from the Gospel by John ; but for the new character which He had acquired by virtue of His incarnation and resurrection, and the relations in which He stood to the Church and to the world, this epistle is the great fountain of knowledge, though, at the same time, it throws much light upon His eternal Sonship and divinity, by the way of allusion and acknowledgment in passing ; that the purpose of the epistle was to satisfy the be- lieving Hebrews, who were terribly assailed and tempted by their unbelieving brethren, and confirm them in the superiority of Christ to Moses as a law-giver, to Aaron and the Levitical priesthood as a priest, and to angels, through whose ministry they believed that the law was given, as the Apostle himself teacheth in his Epistle to the Galatians. And therefore he opens with great dignity the solemn discourse by connecting Christ with all the prophets, and exalts Him above all rank and com- parison by declaring His inheritance. His workmanship, His prerogative of representing God, of upholding the universe, of purging our sins by Himself, and sitting at the right hand of the majesty on high. Then, address- ing himself to his work, he demonstrates His superiority to angels, in order, not to the adjustment of His true dignity — which he had already made peerless — but to the exaltation of the dispensation which He brought, above the former which was given by angels. This demonstration he makes by reference to psalms, which, by the behef of all the Jewish Church, from the earliest times, were understood of Messiah, which

VOL. I. T

274 EXrOSlTION.

quotations, liowever, far sur[)ass, iurniitcly surpass, the purpose for uliitli lliey are quoted, placing Ilini, eacli one, on a level "svith God, to us, at least, to whom that doctrine hath been otherwise revealed. ]jut those Psalms looking iorwaril to Jli'ssiah\s glory can conse- quently have only an application posterior to the time that He was Messiah, and that He was Messiah in humility. Therefore, the ' this day ' is the day either of His bulli or of His ascension, the ' first-begotten ' is fi'om the dead, and the ' kingdom ' is the kingdom purchased by His obedience unto the death ; and hence the reason given for His exaltation is, because He hath loved righteousness and hated iniquity. These trains of reasoning and quotation bemg concluded, I challenged them to remark the sublimity of that from the 102nd Psalm, and thence took occasion to rebuke them very sharply for going after idolatries of profane poets, and fictitious novelists, and meagre sentimentahsts, who are Satan's prophets, and wear his livery of mahce, and falsehood, and mocking merriment, while they forsook the prophets of the Lord, and their sublime, pathetic, true, wise, and everlasting forms of discourse. Then, having begun with a prayer that the Lord would make the reading of this Epistle effectual to the confirming their faith in Christ's character, offices, and work, and possessing them of the efficacy thereof, I concluded with a prayer that the Lord would enlarge our souls by thq.t powerful word which had now been preached to us of His great grace.

" Then we sung the last verses of the 102nd Psalm, and prayed in the words of tlic Lord. The sennon*

* This wonderftil resume of the day's services will give a better

SERMON. 275

was from Phil. i. 21 ; to which I introduced their attention by explaining my object to show them the way to possess and be assured of that victory over death, of which, last Lord's day, I showed them the great achievement (Cor. xv. 55 — 57) ; then, having, in a few sentences, embodied Paul's sublime dilemma between living and dying, I joined earnest battle with the subject, and set to work to explain the Hfe that was Christ, which I drew -out of Gal. ii. 20, to consist in a total loss of personahty and self, and surrender of all our being unto Him who had purchased us Avith His blood, leaving us no longer ' our own ' — which con- dition of bemg, though it seem ideal and unattainable, is nothing else than the obedience of the first great commandment, ' Thou shalt love the Lord thy God, &c. ; since to be so identified, and at one with Christ, was only to be wholly in love vnth, and obedient to, the Father. Now this condition of life must insure to all who have reached to it, the same grace at death wliich Christ, the man Christ, the Messiah, by His resurrection, attained to — or, if not wholly at death, partially then, and wholly at the resmrection. Por I argued from the 2nd of the Hebrews, that whatever Christ . attained to. His people attained to, and also from all the promises in the 2nd and ord of the Eeve- lations to those who overcome. This gave me great purchase upon the subject, allowing me the whole scope of the contrast between Christ's humihation and ex- idea than any description of the lengthened and engrossing character of these discourses, into which the preacher went with his whole soul and lieart : and of the extraordinary fascination Avhich could hold his audience interested through exei-cises so long, close, and solemn.

T 2

276 KVHXIXG SERVICE.

nltatioii ; wliioli liaving wroiiglit according to my gift, I then proceeded to show the vuiiity of any lower esti- mate of tlie life wliicli is ' Clirist ' by touching many popular errors, such as place it in a sound faith merely, or in a correct morality, or in a religious conformity, against which havhig opposed the univcrsaUty and un- reservedness of obecUence, the thoroughness of redemp- tion, and the perfectness of regeneration, I told them, and "warned them, of sad misgivings on a death-bed, of desperate fears and hoodwinkings of the conscience, show^ing them that the believer could not die hard, like the mibeliever, or brutified, like the carnahst ; and I ])i"ay(xl til em, when these doubtings came upon them, to remember that this day they had been warned by a minister of the Gospel. I liad a good deal of matter still remaining, but ]\ii\ Lee's child being to be bap- tized, and the quarterly collection to be gathered, I stopped there — the place being convenient.

" We sang tlie three first verses of the 23rd Psalm, and concluded. Mr. Hamilton walked Inmie with me, and we enjoyed much spiritual discourse. I refused to dine with him, and also with Mr. Dinwiddie, and had my chop, which, being eaten witli thankfulness, was sweet. Ben- jamin shared with me, and was sadly afflicted to hear of little Edward's death. I am sure it does not trouble you to speak of our departed joy, else I would desist. I rested the interval, meditating upon the 22nd chapter of Genesis ; and having gone forth, not without prayer and thanksgiving, to my second ministry, I have reason to give God thanks for his gracious support. From the chapter I took occasion first to observe, in general, that it was for tlie instruction of families, as the fount of

HIS RESPONSIBILITY AS HEAD OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 277

nations, in God's holiness; .... I observed how it was, that idolatry in the people and true piety in the king, were found together ; even as, among the Eoman Cathohcs, you have among the priests singular saints, while the body of the people are rank and gross idola- ters The lecture was upon Luke xiii. 1 ; when

I sought, first, to give the character of oiu- Lord's minis- try in their towns and villages, deriving it from the specimen of Nain, and other fragments from the pre- ceding pages, its munificence of well-doing, its pubhc discourses, sifting and sounding the hearers, its private ministrations in houses and famihes, improving each to the justification and recommendation of a higher kind of ministry than what presently prevails among us. . . Such, dear, hath been my employment this day, of which I give you this account before I sleep, that you may be edified, .... The Lord be gracious unto you, and to our little babe, and to our faithful servant, for He re- gards me accountable for all my household. Therefore I exhort you all to hohness and love. The Lord re- unite us all in peace and blessedness.

" Monday, '^Ist October. — I now sit down, my dear Isabella, to give you the humble history of another day, which, from yesterday's exhaustion, hath been a day of weakness. Wliat a restraint and hindrance this flesh and blood is upon the inflamed spirit, and to what degradation that spirit is reduced which doth not beat its weary breast against the narrow cage which con- fineth it. But to fret and consume away with struggles against the continent flesh, is rather the part of discon- tented and proud spirits, than of those who are en- lightened in the faith of Christ, to whom the encum-

278 AT llOMi:.

brniu'c wliicli weiixlis tlicin down is a constant me- iiu)rial of the resurrection, iiiul by the fuith of the resurrection, soothed down into ])atience and content- ment. ]3e.>?ides, tlie bodily lite is to them tlie period of destinies so infinite, and tlie means of charities so en- larged, that it is often a matter of doubt and question with them, as with St. Paul, whether it is better to depart and be with Christ, which is far better, or to remain in the llesh, whicli is more profitable to tlie Cluu'ch. And I do trust that my abode this day in an overstrained tabernacle hath not been unprofitable to that Church which is the pillar and ground of the truth. It was a day devoted to private conversations with those wliu propose, for the first time, to join themselves to the church, at our approaching com- mmiion. ^Vlien I came down to breakfast, my table

was spread wnth the welcome news of Anne P 's

merciful dehvery, which ]\Ir. M had come to tell

me of, but not finding me, had written out. Sottomayor was waiting for me, and joined with us in our morning worsliip. He is in good cheer, but in want of another hour's teacliing, in order to keep his head above water, which, I trust, will be obtained for him by that merciful Providence which has watched over his wife and him. By-the-by, I had taken upon me the task of inquiring, while in the north, what opening Edinburgh presented for his brother, the soldier, which my various unforeseen duties hindered me from fulfilHng. Would you give that in trust to some one and let me know ? I think Sottomayor, the priest, is truly confirmed in the faith, and I have good reason to tliiiik that the soldier is finding relief for the multitude of his doubts. There

SCOTTISH ADVENTURERS. 279

came also to breakfast with me, a Mi\ M and a

]VIi\ 0 (I think), of neither of wliom I know any- thing, except that the former had met me in Glasgow. He has come to this town on adventure, hke so many of our countrymen, and came to me in his straits to help him to a situation, leading with him, or being led by, the other lad. I thought it hard enough to be by so slight a thread bound to so secular a work ; but look- ing to the lad, and seeing in him an air of seriousness and good sense, and thinking of his helplessness, I felt it my duty to encourage him ; and though I could not depart fi'om my ride of not meddling with secular affairs, and stated so to him plainly, I pencilled him a word to Alex. Hamilton, to give him counsel. At the same time I declared to him wdiat I beheve to be the truth, that this coming upon venture from a place we are occupied well, and sustained m daily food from our occupation, merely that we may rise in the w^orld, is not a righteous thing before God, however approved by our ambitious countrymen ; and though it may be successful in bringing them to what they seek, a fortune and an estabhshment in the world, it is gene- rally unsuccessful in increasing them in the riches of the kingdom, in which they become impoverished every day, until they are the hardest, most secular, worldly, and self-seeking creatures which this metro- pohs contains. Let them come, if they have any kindred or friends to whose help they may come, or if they be in want, for then they come on an errand which the Lord may countenance ; but let them come merely for desire of gain, or of getting on, and they come at Mammon's instigation, with whom oiu" God

280 Tiiv: ri;ii:sT and his iatiuhumens. •

(lofli not oo-oporatc at all I bog;iii llir duties

of tlu' (lay at Icn o'clock, \\'\{\\ Mrs. C , tli(3

^vonK^l whom Lady ]\lackiiitosli ivcoiiiiiu'iidcd Lo you for a matron. She has hwu a mother of tears, having lest, sin(^' she cninc to "RiiLrl.'nid, about hventy-five years ago, husband, and child, and niothe]-, and brothers three, and all her kindi-ed but one brother, who still lives in Buehan. The loss of her little danu-hter, at six years of age, by an accident upon the streets, brought lier to the veiy edge of derangement, in the excess of her grief, so that, like Job, she was glad when the sun went down, and shut out the t:heerf"ul liu-Jit IVom Jier eyes. But the L(nTl restrained, this natural sorrow, that it should not work utter death, as its nature is to do, in consideration, T doubt not, of her Aiith, and for the further sanctilication of her soul. . . . She left Scotland without her mother's consent (why, I cUd not venture to ask), and in six months her mother was no more to give or withhold her consent, Avhich made her miseries in England have something in them, to her mind, of a mother's curse ; and tliis, she told me, was bitterness embittered. Tell this to all your sisters, that they may honour their parents, and never gainsay their mother. Tell it also to Mar}% and let Mary tell it to her sisters ; but withhold the woman's name ; that, like

many other things I write, is to yourself alone

This good woman, whose face is all wTitten over with

sorrow and sadness, like Mrs. M 's, had been a

member of Dr. Nicol's church till his death, whose ministry had Ijeen to her a great consolation. Tell tins to James Nicol wdien you see liini ; and say that, now that he is inlieriting his lather's ])rayers, he nmst

TWO SISTERS. 281

walk ill his father's footsteps, and comfort the afflicted flock of Christ, which is our anointed calhng, as it was that of our great Master. Obey this at the command- ment of your husband. This woman satisfied me well, both as to knowledge and spmt, and I admitted her freely thus far. She is now a sort of guardian-servant to a lady in Bloomsbury, who has partial and occasional aberrations of mind. The Lord bless her in such a tender case!

"My next spiritual visitants were the two Misses

A , whom I am wont to meet at Mr. Cassel's, of

whom the younger came to my instructions, drawn by spiritual concern, the elder to accompany the younger, and thus both have been led to come forward — I fear the latter still rather as a companion than as a disciple. But, oh, the difference, as a lad who has just parted from me said, ' Grace gives to the youth a fuller majesty, with- out any petty pride,' so I found it here in the difference between the Hving spirit of the one's conversation and w^ords, and the shaped formahty and measured cadence of the other. I propose looldng here a httle deeper ; but as I have several days devoted to further instruction, I made no demur at present, though I counselled them fervently and prayed with them both. My next was a

Miss S , from Johnstone, near Paisley, v^rho has

come to London to be under her brother's medical care, — a fine Scotch head, with an art-pale countenance, and fine Grecian outhne of face : she is a regular member of the church in her native place, but out of her own will came to speak with me ; and, though feeble in strength, we were able to commune and pray together to our mutual comfort. My last, at one o'clock.

282 A COMTANION VoR HIS ISABELLA.

was Mrs. 1\ , a widow lady of most devout and

intelligent ajjiiearanee, who has been in the habit, for many months, of attending my Wednesday ministra- tions, bringing a son or a daughter in her hand, witli the latter of whom, a sweet girl of about seven, she came attended. And we joined in discourse, and I found in her a most exercised and tender spirit, whose husband of her youth had been cut off from her in the East Indies, and left her three sons and a daughter ; the former she had now come up to town to prepare for cadetsliips ; afterwards to return, with her daughter, to the countiy again, to rear her in the fear of the Lord. And of her eldest son, whom she had watched over with such care for six years, having for that time lived with them in Beverley, for no other end but to educate them herself, in which occupation she met with the healing of God to her own soul in the midst of scoffers and deriders (whereof the memory to mention drew the tears from her eyes) — her eldest son, who had shown no siuns of ^race under her most careful in- struction, being now, like herself, for the sake of tlie Hindostanee language, placed among the ahen as his mother was, has since shown such a new character, and %vritten such letters, as she never expected to receive from him ; and then she communed with me of sweet domestic interests, in such a devout and simple way, with so many appHcations for instruction, and such a tender interest in two half-caste daughters of her hus- band, whom she has cared for as her own, that I delight to think wliat a sweet companion she will make for you, my dearest, when you return. Thus passed a forenoon, not without its mark in memory's chart.

A SON FROM THE LOED. 283

" I walked down to Mi^s. M 's, in order to

inquire after Anne But time forestalls my

wishes, dear Isabella. Twelve has struck, and the sweetest, hohest scene of the day remains untold. I prayed for a son, and the Lord this night hath brought

me my son, Henry S , a youth who called on me

before my northern visit, and then showed tokens of grace which I had not time to consider ; but this night, though but an apprentice, he hath, being the last of my visitants, showed such wonderful seriousness of mind, soberness of reason, purity of hfe, and richness of character, as far outpasses in promise any youth that I have been the means of bringing unto Christ. And when at nine we assembled to prayer, and Hall showed his pale, emaciated face, and head but sprouting again from the shaver's razor, along with the rest of my household, and I gave him my easy-chair in considera- tion of his weakness — Oh, Isabella, I felt hke a priest and a patriarch ! and the Lord enabled us to have one of the sweetest occasions of praising Him and serving Him which for a long time I have enjoyed ; so that we parted bedewed with tears, from our prayers, in which we never forget you and our separated family. After which, while I partook of my usual repast, I glanced at that very remarkable article ' Milton,' in the ' Edin- bin^gh Eeview,' which came in from the library. I take it to be young Macaulay's. It is clever — oh, it is fuU of genius ! — but little grace. Theology of this day — pohtics of this day — neither sound. Oh, envi- ous Time, why dunnest thou me ? Oh, envious Sleep, why callest thou me ? I write to my wife, to comforfr and edify her, — and bless her, and my babe, and my

284 WRAKIXKSS.

servant, ami nil my kimlivd of lior father's lionoiirahle uiidpiousliou.se. Well, I come. Farewell, my dear wife.

'■'■ Noreniht'r l.s7, Tucsdaii. — The command c^f Kimjj George could iiul have m:id<' me take a ])en in my hand this night, dearest Isabella ; and now that I have taken it in hand, 1 exceedingly question wliether this weary head will diive it over another line. Jhit, dear, your thanks with me ! I have had such a harvest of six precious souls, who.se spiritual communications have carried me almost beyond my power of enduring delight. The Lord doth indeed honour me. But, ah ! this will not do ; I must leave off. To-morrow, the Lord sparing me, I will set forth the particulars to my Isabella, whom, with my dear daughter, may the Lord, this night preserve.

" Ind, Wednesday. — It was well-nigh nine o'clock before I Avas recruited this morning^ with strenc^th enough to go forth to my labours ; for these mental and spiritual labours, being in excess, do as truly require an extra quantity of rest as do bodily and social labours. But I have risen, thank God, well recruited, and have proceeded tliiis far on the day (five o'clock) very prosperously. The first of my com- municants yesterday was a Mary B , from Hatton

Garden, a young woman of a sweet and gracious ap- pearance and discourse, A\ho, with her mother and a numerous family, were early cast upon God's care, wlio hath cared for them according to His promise. I was much pleased with the simplicity and sincerity of her heart, and the affectionate way in which she spoke of 'her Lord ; so tliat she left no doubt on my mind of her being, Uj the extent of her knowledge and talents, a

A SPIRIT FULL OF INSPIRATIONS. 285

faithful and true disciple. I shall seek another inter- view with her ; for I do not feel that I have got acquainted with her spirit, or else it is of so simple and cathohc a form, as to have no character to distinguish it. The next was my old acquaintance, Sarah Evans, the wild girl, who was somewhat carried in her mind, if you remember, in the beginning of a sermon, and whom I visited at Dr. , in Bloomsbury. I httle ex- pected to see her so soon, and so completely restored ; although she still gives one the idea of one on whom our friend Greaves would work wonders by ardmal magnetism. I have a moral certainty that this is her temperament, and that her temporary instabihty was rather a somnambuHsm of the spirit than any insanity or derangement of mind. Since her seventeenth year she has been a denizen of this great hive of men, jfriendless and without kindred, and has partook the watchful care of the Great Shepherd. She is a spirit full of inspirations. Her very words are remarkable, and there is a strange abundance and fertility in her sayings which astonishes me. She has already had much influence on her fellow-servants, who have banished cards and idle, worldly books. Poor Sarah ! (and yet thou art not poor) I feel a strange feehng towards thee, as if thou wert not wholly dwelling upon the earth, nor wholly present when I converse with thee. And sure it is, dear Isabella, she has always to recall herself, as from a distance, before she answers your hiquiries ; and even the word is but like an echo. Of her spirituality I have no doubt, though still she seems to me hke a stranger. Her master at present is Dr. H , one of my brother's medical teachers here,

-2»G m'.TUUXS TO Tin: CONVOCATION BOOK.

>vlio inquires jit licr ocaisionally nlKnit my brotlior, niul about llir C'jilcdouiau c-liui'i-li ; Iroiii which I jiresumc that every one recognises in lier tlic same unlikeness to anollier. and to lier station.

" These occupied me till eleven o'clock, after which I went forth to breathe the air into the garden, in expec- tation of another visitor ; and, as usual, for his memory hang^ oil every twig, the little darhng whom I used to fondle and instruct came to my remembrance, and bowed me down wuth a momentaiy sorrow, wdiich passed, full of sweetness, into what liaiii of thought I have now for- gotten. I occui)ied myself with my Convocation-book, which is to me what a politician and Christian of the year IGOO w^ould be, if I could have him to converse with me and deliver his o])inions. It embodies the ideas of the English Church, in full convocation, upon all points connected with the government of the Church and of the w^orld ; and hath done more than any other thing to scatter the rear of radicalism from my mind, and to give me insight into the true principles of obedience to government. There are, my dear, certain great feelings or laws of the soul, under which it grows into full stature ; of which oljedience to government is (jue, communion with tlie Church is another, trust in the providence of God another, and so forth ; which form the original demand in the soul, both for religion, and law, and family, and to answer which these were appointed of God, and are preserved by His authority. My notion is, that the ten commandments contain the ten principal of these mother-elements of a thriving soul — these laws of laws, and generating principles of all institutions. These al.so, I think, ougiit to be made the

STUDY. 287

basis of every system of moral and political philosophy. But all this is but looming .upon my eye, and durst not be spoken in Scotland, under the penalty of high treason against their laws of logic, and their enslaved spirit of discourse. By-the-by, when I speak of Scotland, it was about this time of day when I received a letter from Dr. Gordon, asldng me to preach a sermon in some chapel which Dr. Waugh has procured for the Scots Missionary Society, and bring the claims of that Society before the great people of London. I mean to answer it by referring them to my Orations on the Missionary Doctrine, as being my contribution to the Society. . . . But I must go to the church to preach from John xiv. 27. The Lord strengthen me.

"And now, having enjoyed no small portion of His presence for one so unworthy, I return to my sweet occupation of maldng my dear Isabella the sharer and partner of my very soul. From the garden, where I communed with the canons of the convocation, and with my own meditations on these elemental principles of wisdom, I returned, and upon looking over my paper, I found I had no more visitors till five o'clock ; so I ad- dressed myself to my discourse, which I purposed from Gal. ii. 20, in continuation and enlargement of that from Phil. i. 21; but going into the context, I was drawn away to ^vrite concerning the church in Antioch, which occasioned the dispute between Paul and Peter, until I found it was too late to return ; so that my discourse has changed its shape into a lecture, and where it will end you shall know on Sabbath, if the Lord spare me. At five came a young man, by name Peter Samuel, of a boyish appearance, very modest and

283 A RK-UNION Ol' YOl'NC (IIKISTIANS.

backward, a iiativo ol' l^diiihur^lu ami l)y Irado a l)ainlLT in grain; in wIidiii, isiboUa, 1 Ibuiid ^[h-\\ n-al uttomnco of tho si)irit, such an upIiCU'd and enlarged soul, that I could l)ut lie back upon my chair and listen. The Lord bless the youth ! It was very mar- vellous ; such grace, such strength oi" understandijig, such meekness, such wisdom ! lie is also one of the fi'uits of my ministry ; had wandered like a sheep ■without a shepherd, ' creeping by the earth,' ujitil, in hearing me, he seemed exalted into the third heavens, at times hardly knoAving Avhether he was in the body or out of the body. 'And all the day long, at my work, I am ha|)i)y, and in communion with the church, which is eveiysvhere dilTused around me hke the air ;' and he arose into the mysteries of the Trinity, and his soul expatiated in a marvellous way. At six I had made double appointments ; the one for James Scott, a stately, bashfid lad from Earlston,on the Leader, between Lauder and Melrose — the residence, in days of yore, of Thomas the Ehymer — who is come to tOAvn to prosecute his studies as an artist. He is already in full com- munion with the church, but loved the opportunity of conversing with me ; and the other was of two who

desire to come in company, John E , a man of

about thirty-five, and C , a young lad of about

twenty. Moreover, Samuel had not departed ; and I think they had been congregated of the Lord on very purpose to encourage my heart and strengthen my hands, for it is not to be told what a heavenly hour they spent in making known the doings of the Lord to their souls; and the two latter told me that every Sabbath they held meetings, before and after church, with others

SELF-DENIAL IN KELIGIOUS CONVEKSATION. 289

of tlie cliiu-cli. Poor Samuel had been lamenting his loneliness, but now his soul was filled with company who welcomed liim to their heart ; and Scott had now one whose spirit and manners attracted him ; and I was lost in wonder how the Lord should work such things by my unworthiness. But remembering my ministerial calhng, I opened to them the duty of self-denial in the expression of our spiritual experiences before the world, lest they should profane these sanctuaries of om^ God ; and the necessity of wisdom to veil with parable and simihtude, before the weak eye of man, the brightness of the pitre and simple truth, reserving for the Lord and for his saints the unveiled revelations of our higher delights. Upon which hfe, having enlarged to their great seeming contentment, we joined our prayers together, and they departed. Now these men who thus

commune together are of most diverse ranks. C

is a gentleman's son ; E , though of high expecta- tions, has been reduced to fill some mferior ofiice in Clement's Inn; and the others, whom I know, are Scotch lads, workmg as journeymen ; so true is it that there is no difference in Christ Jesus. After seven I went to the meeting of the Sabbath-school teachers. . . . After I retiu-ned home, I wrote* a letter to Constantinople to

L , who sends us the figs, exhorting him to stand

fast among the ahen ; which altogether was a day of such exhaustion as unfitted me for writing to you the particulars of it, that you might rejoice in my joy, and give praise unto the Lord, when you know the blessing wliich He is pouring out upon my ministry. Oh, that He would give me food for these sheep, and a rich pasture, and a shepherd's watchfulness, and the love VOL. I. u

•290 " A VKRY RICH IIARVHST.

of the Chief Slioplionl, dial T niiglit even die for tliom if ueod wore ! In all which spiritual conditions I an\ much encouraged by what yesterday tlie Lord brought before me.

"And now, dearest, this day hath been a day of thought which has hardly yet taken form to be dis- tinctly represented ; but on Sabbath 1 w ill comniuuicate the result. Only I have had much insight given me into the Epistle to the Galatians, from which the matter of my discourse will be taken. At six I went forth to my duties, and opened to my children the nature of the Christian Church, as being to the world what the new man is to the old ; what the body, after the resurrection, is to the present body. . . . After which, commending them to the grace of God, I re- tui'ned to the vestry, and came forth again to discourse to the people of Christ's bequest of peace. . . . But though my head could thus rudely block out the matter, I wanted strength and skill to delineate it as it deservx'd ; w^hich, if I be in strength, I shall do it another tune. . . . After the lecture, ten more came desirous to converse with me ; so that I shall have, by the blessing of God, a very rich harvest this season. . . . The Lord be with thy spint. •

" Thursday, Nov. ?jrd. — Last night, my dearest Isa- bella, upon my bed I had one of those temptations of Satan, with which I perceive, by your affectionate letter, that you are oft troubled, and which I shall therefore recount to you. The occasion of it was the memory of our beloved boy, who hath now got home out of Satan's dominion. That morning he was taken by the Lord I was sleeping in the back room, when

TEMPTATIONS OF SATAX. 291

dear sister Anne, who loved him as dearly as we all did, came in about three or four o'clock in the morninsc, and said, ' Get up, for Edward is much worse.' The sound of these words, caught in my sleeping ear, shot a cold shiver through my frame hke the hand of death, and I arose. Of this I had not thought again till, last night on my bed, before sleeping, Satan seemed to bring to my ear these words ; and, as he brought them, the cold shiver trickled to my very extremities. I thought to wile it away, but it was vain ; and I remem- bered that the only method of deahng with liim is by faith, and of overcoming liim by the word of God. So I took his suggestion in good part, and meditated all the sufferings of the darhng, wliich are too fresh upon my mind ; and sought to ascend, by that help, to the sympathy of our Lord's sufferings, and to take refrige (as the old divines say) in the clefts of His w^ounds till this evil should be overpast. Whereupon there came sweet exercises of faith, which occupied me till I fell asleep, and awoke this morning in the fear of the Lord. I make Mondays and Thursdays my days of receiving friends ; and while we were engaged with worship,

Mr. Ker came in, and, after prayers, ]\Ii\ C . I was

happy to understand from the former that Mr. Cun- ningham, of Harrow, has become a violent opponent of the expediency principle in respect to the Apocrypha*, and think the committee will come to the righteous conclusion, which will please our good father much.

* Referring to the hot and bitter conflict then going on in the Bible Society, chiefly between the parent Society in England and its Scotch auxiliaries, Avhich were vehemently opposed to the insertion of the Apocrypha along with the canonical Scriptures.

V 2

202 PASTOKAl, VISITS.

Mr. C came on ]iiir]ioso to communicate the

dyinu: iniunction of a IViriid w lio luul been converted iVoni Unitarianism b}' my discourse ou that heresy last sununer, and had died lull of faitli and joy before ful- lilhng his purpose of joining my churcli. I trust he hatli joined our Church of tlie iirstborn, wliose names are A\Titten in heaven. As we went to the city toge- ther, Mr. Ker bore the same testunony to the blessing of my discourses to his soul. . . . For which I desire you to give thanks unto the Lord wlien you pray secretly, or mtli Mary ; for it is a great blessing to our household to be so honoured. I found our friend David at length able to see me again, who has passed througli a terrible storm of afflictions, swimming for his hfc, and tried with great agony of the body ; but in his soul above measure strengthened and endowed with patience, and full of holy purj^oses and continued acknowledgment to the Lord. . . . His wife, and Martha, her sister, bore testimony to the goodness of the Lord, and we joined our souls in thanksgiving with one accord.

" Thence I w^ent on my way to our friends, the G — ■ — 's, who now hve in America Square, towards the Tower. I know not how it is, but I feel a certain

infirmity and backwardness to speak to Alex. G-

concerning spiritual things, though I love liim, and beheve that he loves the truth ; against which, by the grace of God, I was enabled in some measure to prevail, and make some manifestation of the truth, and unite in prayer, which had tlie effect of bringing him to signify his purpose of waiting upon me (I suppose concerning the communion). Tlie Lord receive this

A SICK-BED. 293

worthy and honourable youth into the number of his chosen ! Thence returning, I felt an inchnation to pay

a visit to Miss F , in Philpot Lane ; but resolved

again to proceed on more urgent errands, and passed the head of the lane, and was drawn back, I know not by what inducement, and proceeded against my purpose. It was the good will of the Lord that I should comfort one of His saints, and He suffered me not to pass. I found the mother of that family, vv^ho has long walked with God, and travailed in birth for the regeneration of all her children, laid down by a confusion in her head, which threatened apoplexy or palsy ; and now for three days afflicted, without that clear manifestation of the Holy Comforter wliich might have been expected in one so exercised with faith and holiness. Many of the friends and kindred were assembled in the large room below, and the father and the children ; to whom ha\ing ministered the word of warning and exhorta- tion, and prayed with one accord for the state of the sick, I went up to her bedchamber with the father and daughters, and found the aged mother lying upon the bed more composed than I had expected. I taught her that Christ was the same, though her faculties were bedimmed ; that her soul should the more long to escape from behind the dark eclipse of the clouds ; but not to disbeheve in His mercy, because her body bur- dened her, and caused her to groan. We bowed down and prayed, and the Lord gave me a large utterance ; and when I had ceased, I could not refrain myself from continumg to kneel, and hold the hand of the dear saint, and comfort her, and utter many cjaculatory prayers for her soul's consolation ; and I was moved

294 COUUlXiC.lO's "' ST. JOHN."

even to tears for tlir low of lior soul. With which liaving parted, lier daughters, wlio remained beliind, came down and told us that she was much comforted, and had proposed to compose herself to rest. The Lord rest lier soul, and prepare it for His kingdom ! thougli 1 lio[)e she may l)e I'estored again to liealtli. . . .

" Thence I proceeded to Bedford Scjuare, by Cheap- side, and gave Mi'. Hamilton charge of your letter, which may you receive safe, and with a blessing, for it is intended for your comfort and edification in the faitli; that you may know the goodness of the Lord to your head, and rejoice and give thanks. On my way to Bedford Square, I called at Mr. Macaulay's, having heard that he and his wife were poorly ; and with a view, if opportunity offered, of saying a word to their son concerning Milton's true character, if so be that he is the author of that critique. For I held with him once, but now am assured that Milton, m his character, was the archangel of Eadicahsm, of which I reckon Henry Brougham to be the arch-fiend. But 1 found they had gone toHannali More's for retirement and discourse. The Lord bless their communion ! I called at Mr. Procter's to look at two marvellous heads by Correggio — the one of the Virgin about to be crowned with stars; the other of St. John: certainly, beyond comparison, the most powerful heads I have ever seen. The latter, they say, is a portrait of me. But I do not think so. I cannot both ])e like the Baptist and the beloved Apostle ; I would I were in spirit, for the flesh

profiteth nothing. Anne V and tlie child continue

to do well, and the poet is already a very tender fatlier. The Counsellor and I had a good deal of

PRAYERS. 295

private discourse He is a tender father, and a

well-meaning man, but wilful ; and wilftilness, dear Isabella, is weakness and inutility ; the excess of will being to the same effect as the defect of will. Yet I love him, and he loves me, and permits me to open truth in a certain guise to his ear. The Lord give me wisdom, if it were only for this family ! I returned home to peruse Eckhard's ' Eome,' and to worship with my family and read the Holy Scriptures, and conclude by writing the summary of the day to my dear wife. And now I return to my chamber, thankful unto Thee, oh my Father, who hast protected thine miworthy cliild, and not allowed him this day to stray far from thy commandments. Thou hast made me to know Thee ; Thou has exercised my soul with love and kindness ; Thou hast called me out of the world by prayer. I bless Thee, oh my God ; I exceedingly bless Thee ! And now, my tender wife, go on to seek the Lord ; wait upon Him ; entreat Him ; importune Him. Do not let Him go till He give thee thy heart's desire. And thou, Margaret, my sister, submit thy strong spirit unto the Lord, and thou shalt find peace. And EUza- beth, my sister, persevere in the good part which thou hast chosen, and thou wilt find all that is promised to be true and faithful. And, my lovely Anne, be com- posed in thy spirit by God, who will dehver thee from all tilings that disconcert and trouble, and make thy spirit lovely. And, my David, remember our covenants of love with one another, wherein thou wert oft moved to desire God. Oh, forget Him not, my children !

Walk before Him, and be ye perfect May He

keep us as the apple of the eye, and hide us under the

2% ECCLESIASTICUS.

sliiulow of TTis Avinirs tliis night; and Avlien wc aAvake in tlie morning, may we be satisfied with Uis likeness ! " Tuesday, Nov. ith. — I feci it nccesssary already to be on my gnard against the adversary, lest he should convert tliese journals, intended for the comfort of my dear wife, into an occasion of self-display or self-delusion ; and the more because I have been singularly blessed by the goodness of the Lord, which, you would say, was the best protection against him ; but the Lord judged otherwise when, after enricliing Paul with such revelations, he saw it wise to give him a thorn in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to bufTet him, lest he should be exalted above measure. Therefore let me watch my pen, and the Lord watch my soul, that nothing pass thence to the eye of my partner wliich may in any wise convey a false impression of my heart. I liave resumed my custom of reading the lessons of the day, besides the Psalms, whatever else I may read out of the Holy Scriptures, and was struck, in reading out of Ecclesiasticus, with the odour of earthhness which tliere is about the wisdom of it. It is rather shrewd than divine ; and, I am convinced, lias httle heavenward drift in it to the soul. But how much more spiritual than the maxims of Eocliefoucault, or any other modern who has sought to express himself by aphorisms ! I wa.s ni great danger of falling under the spirit of indo- lence after breakfast, and loitering. The sensation about my eyes, which foretells a listless day, made its appearance ; and I felt inclined to stretch my limbs, and take up a book at hand, and while away the time. But I thank God who enabled me to withstand the enemy, and to stir myself up to study, which I prose-

DETERIOEATIXG EFFECT OF A GREAT CITY. 297

cutecl with a view to my morning sermon. This is beginning to take shape, and will form, I judge, a digest of the Epistle to the Galatians, or a statement of the Apostle's argument for the abohtion of the law and the liberty of faith, in order to my afterwards showing our dehverance from the forms of the world mto the hberty of Christ.

"This was a fast-day to me, at least a soup-day, which I judged good for my health, so that I felt languid the whole forenoon until four, when Miss

A called to conduct me to her house. The two

JMiss A 's jomed our chmTh at the last communion.

Their mother had died some months before, and they are orphans. They win their bread by the needle, and dwell with two yomiger brothers, whom they wished me much to converse with. Those two brothers have no one over them, and are as wild as the beasts of the wood. Though only fifteen and seventeen, I was per- fectly amazed at the irreverent, thoughtless way in which they behaved when I entered — nothmg awed, notliiug moved, but full of conceit and self-possession. The eldest is a clerk in a writer's (Anglice, attorney's) office ; the younger is a sort of clerk to a councillor, — • one to keep the door of his office open, and to go errands — for whom his master is glad to find something to do. Oh ! what a horrid effect London has upon the character of children ! It is only beginning to be revealed to me in its native deformity. The awful hiiquity of a great city is nothing to its silent effects in deterioratmg the races of men. They really dwindle as if they were plants. I saw at once that if I was to be profitable to these two lads, it was by authority as well as by affection ; so I

2y8 TWO LONDON 130VS.

resolved to teaeli tlieni tlie reverence of God, and of God's word, and of God's messenger. Tlie eldest sat over aiiainst nie on tlie other side of the fire, the two sisters working at the table, and the yonngest beyond the table, and he would not be persuaded to come near me. I opened my way by speaking of their orphan state, and their want of counsel and authority over them. Then I passed to the authority of God, and opened the tendency of youth to be headstrong and untamed. The eldest, I perceived, was full of observation and thought. He could not di\'ide the matter between the authority and affection with Avhich I spoke. By degrees I got him to open his mind, which was very wilful. I con- tinued to oppose to his whims the will of God, and would not lower the discourse to any compromise, or indulgence to any of his moods. His brother had to go away earlier ; and after getting him to sit beside me, I spoke to him with great earnestness and affection, and blessed him ; but whether he was moved from his indolent and lethargic obstinacy, I know not. Then with the eldest I dealt for another hour, in various discourse, which I am now too weary to recall. And when I knew not what impression I had made upon his short and hasty temper, which I saw writhing be- tween the awe of the truths which I spoke, and the irritation of the mastery which I held over him, the lad rose from his seat, and went to a press and took out a parcel, from which he drew forth a set of beauti- ful Httle prints of Bible subjects, and asked if I had seen them. I answered, no. Then, said he, ' Will you accept them from me P' I hesitated ; but perceiv- ing it was altogether necessary, if I would have any

A LOGICAL COMPANION. 299

further dealing mth this strange spirit, I took them ; and here they are before me. Upon which, his hour

of seven having come, he went his way I am

weary, but very well ; and give the Lord thanks for his goodness, praying Him to strengthen me with rest. St. Pancras is ringing up the hill twelve o'clock. So the Lord compass you and my beloved child. Farewell !

'■'Saturday^ Nov. 5. — I had all arranged to finish

this sheet and send it off to-night ; but James P

is come, and has occupied me so much, and the Sabbath is now on the verge of coming m, and I have much before me, therefore I delay tliis day's summary till to-morrow evening, if God spare me. But that I might not go to bed without blessing you and our tender lamb, I have taken up my pen to write — That the Lord God, whom I serve would be the guardian of my wife and child until He restore them to the sight of his servant. Amen.

" Sabbath, Nov. 6. — And now, my dearest Isabella, I am alone with thee again, and can give thee the news wliich are dearest to thy heart, that the Lord hath not deserted His unworthy servant this day, but hath been, especially in the evening, present to my soul, and given me a large door of utterance, I trust to the edification of His church, and the comforting of His people. Yesterday I had laboured all the mormng with a con- stant and steady dihgence, and about one o'clock was in full sight of land, with strength of hand still left me to have finished this letter, and so cheated the lazy post,

when, as I said, James P stept in ; in whom, to be

brief, I find we shall have a most easily accommodated inmate, if so he hkes to become, and a very shrewd.

300 SUNDAY SERVICES.

logical ooiiipnnioH, I'lill of political economy tun] of inatliomatics, who cannot help stating every tiling as if it were a question to be resolved by the Calculus, and cannot conceive of any ideas or knowledge which are tu be otherwise come at tluui by the methods of the intellect ; which error I have laboured hard to correct in hhn, and not, I beheve, without some partial success, He is one of the coolest, shrewdest intellects I have ever met wdth, — sweetly disposed, veiy gentle, and

easily served My morning lesson this

day was the 2nd chapter of the Hebrews, in which is taught us this great lesson, that we shall partake with Christ in the government of the world to come, which I take to be the same with the ' rest that remaineth,' mentioned in the 4th chapter, or the per- fection of the present dispensation of the Gospel in

the millennial state Also there is taught us,

tliough but incidentally, the end of His incarnation to destroy death and him that hath the power of death, and dehver us from the fear and bondage of death. Let us enter mto faith, my dear wife, and be delivered

from the blow which death hath broiidfht us

Also He took our flesh that we might be assured of our oneness ; that we might be able to give ourselves to the hope of His glory. He did first join himself to the rcahty of our humility. My discourse was a view of the doctrine of the Epistle to the Galatians, intro- ductory to discourses upon Gal. ii. 10, 20 This

introduction, sum of doctrine, and threefold argument embraced the whole Epistle, which I had thus digested into my discourse, with apphcation of each branch of the argument to the present times and all times ; but

WANT OF FAITH. 301

I was able to deliver only about a half of it, and withal our service reached to within a quarter of two. My evenmg chapter was the 21st of Genesis, when I felt my mouth opened in a remarkable way to bear testimony to the want of faith in this generation, who woidd embrace the heavens and the earth, and the truth and majesty of God, witliin the nutshell of theu" own hitellect, and beheve in God not a hair's-breadth beyond their intellectual sight, — wliich, adopted by children as scholars, would destroy the school — by subjects, would destroy government; and, m short, that these sacred things all hang together, and must sink or swun with faith I was much strengthened in this dis- course, and in both my prayers Mr. E

was there mornmo; and evenincf. The Lord add that youth to His Church! I travail for him. Farewell, dear Isabella. You cannot have so much pleasure in reading these as I have in writing them. The blessing of the Lord be with my babe — my tender babe. The blessing of the Lord be with her mother — her tempted

but victorious mother

'''Monday^ 1th November. — Though wearied, my dearest Isabella, with a day of much activity, and afterwards with the exposition of that blessed Psalm, this night's lesson, and now with much discourse and discussion to James P — — , whom I like exceedingly, and Wilham Hamilton, all concerning the subordination of the sensual or visible, and the intellectual or knowable, to the spiritual or redeemable, (the first giving the typography, the second giving the method, and the last the substance of ah true and excellent discourse) I do now sit down with true spiritual dehglit to commune

302 LITTLE KDWARD'S MINISTRY.

with my soul's sweet mate. Yen, liath not the Lord made us for one auotlier, and Ity his providence united us to one auotlier, against many liery trials and terrible delusions of Satan ? And, as you yourself observed, has he not over again wedded us, far more closely than in any joy, by our late tribulation, and the burial of our lovely Edward, our holy lirst-born, who gave up the ghost in order to make his father and mother one, and expiate the discords and divisions of their souls ? Dear spu'it, thou dearest spirit which doth tenant heaven, this is the mystery of thy burial on the wed- ding-day* of thy parents, to make them for ever one. Oh, and thou shalt be sanctified, God blessing, by such a concord and harmony of soul as hath not often blessed the earth since Eden was forfeited by sin. My wife, this is not poetry, tliis is not imagination which I write ; it is truth, rely upon it, it is truth that lovely Edward hath been the sweet offering of peace between us for ever ; and so, when we meet in heaven, he shall be as the priest who joined us, — the child of months being one hundred years old. Let my dear wife be comforted by these thoughts of her true love. I found much sweet meditation upon my bed last night ; and when I awoke in the morning He was with me, and I had much countenance of the Lord in my secret devotions ; and

when I descended found Mr.T ,the preacher, andMr.

Bull met in the breakfast parlour, and Mr. P seated

in the hbrary. That preacher is very clever, and in- finitively prohfic in his vein, and that no contemptible one ; but volatile and wild as the winds, yet musical in

* ThLs much-lamented child was buiicd on the 14th Octobej', the second anniversary of their marriage.

AN INTELLECTUALIST. 303

liis mirth, and full of heartiness and good will. But he serveth joyaunce of the mind, and has not yoked him- self to any workmanship ; and I have accordingly ex- horted him to be about his Master's work — to get him down into the battle, and take his post. ]\Ir. Bull brought me a very sweet frontispiece, which he has exe- cuted for Montgomery's Psalmist^ one of Colhns's series. .... As usual, his bashful, meek company was very sweet to me.

"When they went. Miss N came, who can

beheve none, and would intellectualise everything ; and consequently looks for her rehgious prosperity in expedients of the intellectual or visible world, or in means^ as they call them ; (but, Isabella, nothing is a means of grace in which Christ is not seen to be pre- sent, wdience he is called the Mediator or mean- creator) which, I told her, I could no longer indulge her in, by framing my discourse to her subtleties, but would read her the word of God, to which, if she framed her mind by faith, then it woidd be well ; but if not, she must utterly perish. After which reading of the 103rd Psalm, being moved in my spirit with love to her, I pronounced over her, without rising, a prayer which made her weep abundantly — tears, I trust, which may by God's grace reap joy hereafter. She says I have demohshed all the glory of her building, and she stands

as upon a ruin of herself. I say unto you, Miss N ,

Christ can alone build up and mould your shattered mind to the similitude of His own mind. You see, my dear, what boldness the Lord is endowing me with, .... What clean, black \dllany, what unwrinkled villany, there was upon those countenances I met

304 INFLUENCE OF CUSTOM.

ill Sairmii Hill niid Field T>;iiu', (m my wny to tlio Bible Society, \viiere, among others, I saw tlie face of Father Simon, lookinir witli :ill its ca^er mirest ; and tliere being notliing of importance to detain me, I came away witli tlie old worthy, and held such discourse with liim as the Strand heareth not oft, until we reached the Temple, whither he entered to his business, and I re- tm-ned to tlie city to dhie with ]\Ir. Dinwiddle and Wm. Hamilton ; and on my way, having found a receiving- house, I committed your letter to the care of the post. But. ah ! forgot the blessing or prayer for its safe arrival, so doth the rust of custom corrode the frame of oui' piety. Life should be a web of piety ; custom makes it a web of impiety. My dear, we must be re- deemed in all things from wickedness to serve the living God. Having dined with my friends, I pro- ceeded at three to visit IVIr. David, who had yesterday a relapse, and is this day very low. The surgeon ap- prehended no danger ; but I know not how it is, I fear we are going to lose him. His soul is winged with faith : let it take its flight. He also is my son in the Gospel. I could not see him, but we Ufted up our hearts together for his health and salvation. Then I pro- ceeded to Mrs. T ; and now, my dear, learn a lesson

of spiritual hfe, and let me learn what I am now to teach thee. This sweet mother, whom I greatly love, said to me, ' All darkness, all darkness ; what if it should have been all self-deception ?' That is, the Lord was shaking His saint out of the last refuge of Satan, which he takes in the righteousness which hath been wrought in us by the Holy Spmt. As Knox said on his death-bed, ' The enemy has been trying me with

KEMONSTRAXCE ABOUT LENGTH OF SERVICES. 305

representations of the work wliicli has been done l^y me.' ....

" From thence I proceeded to the Session, where we proceeded with good harmony and miion, till they came to speak of time ; and then I told them they must talk no more to me concerning the ministry of the word, for I would submit to no authority in that matter but the authority of the church, from which also I would take liberty to appeal if it gainsaid my conscience. I am resolved that two hours and a half I will have the privilege of. Write me your judgment

in tliis matter We had another meeting, at

seven, of the congregation So I returned, and

one o'clock sounding in my ear from Pancras church, I bid you farewell for the night, and pray the Lord to bless you, and our httle treasure, and her who hath joined herself to our house, and hath a right to the share of its blessings. Farewell, my spouse !

" Wednesday, 9th November. — I sit down, my dearest, after a day of languishing and mom^ning, rather more cheerful and refreshed than I have deserved to be ; for, whether from defective sleep or over-fatigue yesterday, I have been very dead and Hfeless all day long, until tlie evening roused me to some spiritual exercises. Satan could not have had this occasion against me, but for my own most blameworthy conduct m preferring man before God in the services of the morning. For, having

promised to take James P down to Bedford Square

to breakfast, I hurried over both my private and family worship. Now this is such infinite irreverence done unto the majesty of heaven, that I know not how any stronger proof of want of faith could be found.

VOL. L X

3(G THE rEACE-OFFERING.

. . . Wlion wc rcturiiod from ^Ir. ]\[ 's, I cndcavoiirccl

to seek the Lord in my closet, but found Ilim not. He liid His countenance, and my lieart was left to the bitter- ness of being alone. I took to the ixuiding of the 3rd chapter of Hebrews, in the original,witli a view to pasture for my people ; and afterwards to the 22nd of Genesis, with the same end in view, of wliieli I have been able to make out eight verses. I wish to read the Sabbath lessons, at least, in the Hebrew, and to make both lessons a dihgent study through the week,w^ith Pool's 'Synopsis' before me ; and I have besought the Lord, as I do now again beseech Him, that I may continue in this right- eous and dutiful custom. In the Hebrew, it would per- haps be an entertainment to your heart to accompany me, that we may not be divided in this study when we meet again. But I forget that you have the dear babe to watch over ; for whom, my dear, let our souls be ex- ercised rather than for the dead. Oh, let us wrestle with God for her soul, that she may not be caught away from us at unawares. I wish she were here, that I might in my anus present her to the Lord every morning and evening. Your letter gave me great dehglit, and came to cheer me in my spiritual mourning. The Lord continue to support your soul, and to be your portion ! 01), how blessed has been thy deatli, my beloved, to thy parents' souls ! thou first-fruits of our union, and peace-offering of our family, dearly-beloved child, who never frowned on any one, and never fretted, l)ut moaned the approach of that enemy which was to bereave us of thee ! . . . .

"I sought to begin the discourse on Galatians ii. 19, whose object it will be to show that an outward law

PHILANTHROPY. 307

is always a sign of bondage, and that the inward wilhngness is hberty, which a Divine indwpUing spirit can alone beget and maintain within us. Pray that I may be enabled to handle this mighty theme to the glory of God, and the promotion of the Eedeemer's kingdom. For it calls upon all that is wdthin me, and I shall have this and the following w^eek to

give to it Too many cares of philanthropy,

dear, are as seductive as any other cares ; it is di\anity w^hich alone can sustain philanthropy. But a divine is become hke a plioenix. We know one, but he is near in ashes, and who is to arise in his stead, I know not. . . ,

After leaving the study,]Mr. P and I walked together.

.... At six, I had the visit of another child of my ministry. Miss Miller, in whom I found a very humble and sweet spirit, thoroughly, as I trust, convinced of sin, and purged of her sin. After conversing and pray- ing with her, I w^ent out to Mr. and Mrs. Hall, at their own request, to open the subject of the communion to their souls, when I set it forth by the parable of the prodigal son. That at baptism w^e had obtained our freedom in our Father's house, who ever since had divided to us our portion of gifts, graces, and oppor- tunities, which we had prodigally squandered ; but, taking pity on us, He doth keep open table in His house, in order to welcome every one who hath a longing to return. He breaketh bread and poureth out wine, the body and blood of His Son's sacrifice, for every one who will come, as the prodigal came, heartily repenting, and humbly confessing his sin. This, therefore, is what I desire — the sense of sin, and the faith that it is to be forgiven only through the blood of Christ. For the

X 2

308 Tin: MYSTKRY OF TlIK TUIXITY.

onliLrliteniiiL!: o\' llio iniiid. lor llic (•oiivinciiiL;' of the licart, and tlic couvertiiig of the wliole soul, it is the work of the Holy Spirit, wlio is the gift of Christ to Ilis weak but faithful disciples. Oli, dearest, how ]M'orital)le is tliat mystery of the Trinity to my soul ! The husband and wife heard me witli tears. I trust these are tokens for good. The Lord enable them to retain upon their souls those feelings towards Him whicli they this night expressed to me. By these exercises my spirit was restored. The Lord hath re- stored my soul, and I was able to comfort the family with the 42nd Psalm, and I trust to encourage my

own spirit Now, the blessing of the Lord

rest upon my wife, and child, and servant this night, who have not separated, I know, witliout commending me to the Lord ! Thus do w^e unite our interests on high, and lay in our proofs and pledges of mutual

love with our heavenly Father Farewell !

" Thursday, ^()th November, 1825. — I pray the Lord so to quicken my love to my dear wife, and so to move my soul with the spirit of truth and wisdom, as that I shall much comfort and edify her by the words which I am about to -write. Yesterday I so wore myself out witli the various duties I had to discharge, that I was hardly able to do the ofTices of family worship, and, in utter inability, forewent my sweet interview of faith with my Isabella ; no, not of faith, but of these visible emblems of faith, for the interview of the spirit I truly

had with you I have fulfilled your commission

to Mrs. Hall, who received your gift with much thank- fulness. Our maid is now gone, and we are a very happy and, I trust, contented household. Li tlie churcli

MISSIONAKIES. 309

last night I opened the real contents of the new covenant (Hebrews viii. 10, to the end) to the young communi- cants, who are about to enter by the proper form to the renewal of it. For you will observe, dearest, that there was a renewal of the covenant when the children of Israel entered into the land of promise, as there is to us : first, the granting it at baptism to the faith of our parents ; and again, the renewal of it over the sacrifice of our own faith. Now these contracts are, 1st, the law within, and no longer without, that is, hberty of soul to obey God, instead of restraint of fear ; 2nd, the ruUng of God over us, and our subjection to Him in all wiUing- ness ; 3rd, the teaching of His Spiiit in all His revelations ; 4th, the absolution of all our sinfulness through Christ's atonement. The first being the conversion of our will ; the second, the maintenance of our weakness ; the third, the enlightening of our knowledge ; the fourth, the purging of our conscience from all fear. What an inheritance, my dear wife, is this to which you, and I, and all behevers are admitted ! Let us enter it, let us enter mto it. Wliy can we not enter into the willing- ness, the confirmation, the enhglitening, the peace of it ? We camiot enter in by reason of unbelief. Now en- coiu-age one another, I pray you, for the time is short. "This morning we mustered a goodly company, though it was the stormiest morning almost I remember .; three missionaries from the Mission House, our broad-faced Wlirtemberg friend, so dear to us all, and a countrj^nan, * and an East Indian, half-caste, preparing for his return to preach to the Hindoos. They tell me there are at present two of their countrymen at St. Petersburgh fulfiUing to the letter our Lord's instructions to his dis-

310 READINGS IN HKnilEW.

ciples. I liavo a very strong purpose of sending over to nil tlu' ^lission Houses copies of my Orations for the sake of tlie youtli ; ami to this cfTect of ordering Ihunilton to send me all that are not sold, and desiring liim to transmit the proceeds of the sale which there has been to the widow of Smith, Tell me Avhat you thhik of this. The German missionaries at Karass soon found out the unproductiveness of Scottish prudence when apphed to propagate the Gospel, and are fast recurring to the primitive method on the confines of Persia, where they at present labour. They speak of a great re^dval in the Prussian kingdom ; more than a hundred young preachers have gone forth from the uni- versities to preach the Gospel. The Lord prosper his work ! To-morrow a luunber of young missionaries are to receive their instructions at a pubhc meeting in Freemason's Hall, and they are to set out for Malta some time tliis month. The Lord is their helper. I took occasion, from the 51st Psahn, to speak to them of the qualifications there referred to. . . . After their departure, 1 addi'esscd myself to my sweet studies of reading the lessons of the day, and meditating the lessons of Sabbath in the origuial tongues. . . . After- wards I betook myself to my lecture on Christ's at- tendants and sustenance in his ministry, Luke viii. 2, 3, wdiich is a subject of great importance and fiaiitfulness, if the Lord see it good to open it to me by His Spirit, which I do now earnestly pray. James and I, after dinner (we have now got the wine-cellar open, and I have ordered Hall a bottle of Madeira tostrengtlien him), went dow^n to Bedford Square, where I had a good deal of profitable conversation Avith our dear

LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION. 311

friends. But before I went out I received a parcel, . . in which was a fine lace cap and wrought robe for our dear departed boy; .... our darhng hath now a more precious robe than can be wrought by the daughters of a duke ; yet it is a sweet and honourable token of their love. I have written to tell them whither

the object of their love is gone Our httle boy !

thou art incorporated with my memory dearly, with my hope thou art incorporated still more dearly. We will come, when our Lord doth call, to thee and to the general assembly of the first-born. Oh, Isabella, I exhort thee to be dihgent in thy prayers for thee and me !

'"''Friday^ Wth November. — I have just dismissed Mrs. Hall, my dear Isabella, to set into the study to-morrow morning a slice of bread and glass of water, purposing to keep myself alone for meditation, and I pray the Lord that he would give us both a heart fuU of divine

thoughts and holy purposes Mr. Hamilton is

a great comfort to me ; I may say of him, as Paul says of Mark, that he is helpful to me for the ministry, literally delivering me of all secular cares. But I must proceed in order. When we were at oiu* morning

worship, Mr. 0 shpped in, with his slow and canny

foot, in order to seek introductions to Scotland, which I would not give ; for though I am enough satisfied with him for the rule of charity, I have no sufficient evidence upon which to commend him to another. Indeed I would be suspicious of his favour-seeking and power-hunting, if I were not satisfied it is universal, and that he may have caught it by infection, not generated it in liis own constitution ; but, ah, it is a weakening disease, however

812 THE CIIUUCII AS A HOUSE.

cnuLilit ! Whi'ii 1 li:ul dismissed, I read \hv ord cliu])- ter n{' Jnliii in tlie original, and studied tlie latter half of the 3rd chapter of the Hebrews with a diligent reference to tlie parallel scriptures ; and in studying that chapter it will lielp you to know that ' even as Moses in all his liousc ' is not to he understood J/oscs' l)ut 6't>(iV house, tlic house of ' llini who appointed him,' as you wall see by referring to the passage in Numbers, of wjiich it is tlic quotation ; the whole argument being to set Moses fortli, not as having a house of liis own, but as a servant in the house wliicli Christ had ordered, and to which, in due time, He came as the heir to claim and inlierit His own. Tliat idea of the Church, under the simihtude of a house, is constant in the New Testa- ment, derived, I take it, from the temple, Avhich Wiis a type of the Clmrch ; and I have no doubt that ' Li my Father's house are many mansions,' means the Church in Avliich he prepared a place for his apostles, by sending to them His Holy Spirit ; so that thenceforth they be- came its foundation stones. ' We are made partakers wdth Christ if w^e ]iold fast the beginning of our confi- dence steadfast imto the end,' refers to Christ's cominLr in tlie end to occupy His house, wdien all His people shall share with Him in His kingdom ; which He him- self sets fortli liy tlie same similitude of a householder who went into a far countr}', and in the meantime gave his servants their several charges. We are these ser- vants ; let us be found iiiithfnl, and when He comes we shall be made partakers or sharers with Him. After these studies in divinity, I relieved my mind by reading a portion of the Convocation book which treated of our Lord's respect to tliose who sat in Moses' seat, present-

SIMPLE AND UNPROVIDED FAITH. 313

ing this feature of His obedience in very meek and true colours. Oil, how I have offended herein, making my- self a judge instead of a minister of the Church ! and yet I know not how otherwise to proceed when all things are manifestly so out of square. I do pray earnestly that the Lord would keep me manly in the regulation of the censorious part of my spirit. For I have this day, and immediately after the perusal of the above, written a lecture upon the simple and unpro- vided faith in which our Lord made His rounds of the ministry ; arguing thence the spirit in which His ministers should stand affected towards the provisions of this life, and should receive them ; wherein I have not scrupled to declare the whole counsel of God ; but I know not whether in the right spirit.

This also has occupied me since dinner up to the time of evening prayer, when the Lord opened my mouth to speak of His love to our souls, so that I could see the tears gather in the eyes of my little company. I do hope there is a work of Divine grace proceeding in

these servants' hearts Oh, Isabella, I have a

strong persuasion of the power of a holy walk and con- versation, in which, if we continue, we shall save not only our own souls but the souls of those that hear us ; even now there is a strong conviction of that truth brought home to my spirit. For yourself, dear, when you are in darkness and distress, then do not fret, but clothe your spirit in sackcloth, and sit down and take counsel with your soul before the Lord, and study all its deformity, and search into the hidden recesses of its unbelief. It is a rich lesson for humility ; it is a season of sowing seed in tears. The Lord permitteth such

314 FUNERAL SERVICE.

temptations that wo may tlic more tlioroiiglily see our depravity; aiul in tlie midst ol' our seasons of brightness tliev conu' like clouds (liri>ateiiinL!; a delui^e, which the rainbow covenant averts from the soul of God's cliosen

ones My dearest, we must soon go to our rest,

and our sweet infant also ; and perliaps the Lord may not see us worthy to leave any seed on the earth. His will be done. I pray only to be conformed to His will. Now rest in peace, my other part, and thou, sweet link of being; betwixt us ! The Lord make our souls one ! And may He bless with the inheritance of our domestic blessings, spiritual and temporal, om^ faitlifid servant, who has joined herself to our house. Fare you all well. The Lord compose your souls to sweet and quiet sleep. '■^Saturday, 12th November. — ... I am left to my sweet occupation of making my dear Isabella a sharer of the actions of my life and the secrets of my heart ; would that they were more valuable for thy sake, my dearest love ! This day w^as devoted to pious offices con- nected with the memory of our dear boy, that it might be made profitable to the living. But I found not the satisfaction which I expected. I began by reading the 15tli chapter of 1 Corinthians in the original, hoping to be somewhat raised in my thouglits ; but whether I fell away into the criticism and scholia', from the old Greek fathers, which are in my noble Greek Testa- ment, I know not ; l)ut I think I missed the edification of the S[)int ; Satan is never absent from us ; he can slay as effectually from the letter of God's word, as from the lightest and vainest pleasures of the world. After ■which I studied the funeral service of the Church, in wliicli office I found some movements of the spirit

THE TWELFTH DAY OF THE MOXTH. 315

which I sought. Then I girt myself to my duties, and wrote ; first, a letter to my father's house, exhorting them agamst formahty, and testif3dng to them the nature of a spiritual conversation; then I wrote to M , mani- festing, according to my abihty, the evils of self-com- munion and self-will, and the blessings of communion with the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ. I know not how it may be felt by her, but if she should speak of it, assure her it was done faithfuUy and in love. . . . Thereafter I addressed myself to some reading in my

Convocation book and Eoman liistory Since tea,

I have been busy preparing my discourses, and I do pray that He would bless them. I had much hberty in exliorting my little evening congregation and opening to them the comfortable doctrine of the Divine Provi- dence, and in praying for our souls, and the souls of all men ; and now, dearest, twelve o'clock hath rung in my ears, and having exhorted the household to timeous hours on the Sabbath morning, I must not be slack to give the example ; and that I may leave room for to- morrow's work, which I trust will be holy and blessed, I part from you witli few words, praying the Lord to have you all in His holy keeping. But let me not forget that this day, which I have improved to others, I ought of all to improve the most carefully to Edward's mother. Every twelfth day of the month, my loving and be- loved wife, let it be your first thought that your babe is mortal, and that the father of your babe is mortal, and that you yourself are mortal ! and every twelfth day of the montli, my loving and beloved wife, let it be your last thouglit tliat yoiu: babe is mortal, and that the father of your babe is mortal, and that you yourself

310 SUNDAY MOUNlN(i.

arc morUil. P<> \]\\< lliat you uuiy swmIIow \i\) our mortalitv in \\\v i,'lori«)Us faith ol" our iimnortalitv in the lioiivons. Fnivwoll. uiy uilr. Dwt'll for cvcr^vitll tlie Lord, my sifter saint in Christ ; ilwcll for ever witli tlie Lord, my tender babe, and be Ijlessed of Ilim, as lie was wont to bless sucli as tliec. I pray tlie Lord to bless all with whom you dwell, thou daughter of Abrnhnm and heir of the promise!

'■'Sablmth,, IStk November. — My dear Isabella, I have fmished the labours of another Sabl)ath, with much of the presence of the Lord in the former part of the day, and not so much in the eveninii;. There must have been 5ome want of faith either in the writini:: <>i' delivery of my discoui'se, and I have besought tlie Lord that he would presei've me during this week in a spiri- tual frame of mind, and move within my soul right thoughts and feelings for the salvation of my people ; and I desire that you would ever on a Sabbath morning pray the Lord to preserve my soul in a spirit of faith and love all the day, and in the evening pray that He would direct my mind to such subjects of meditation

and methods of handling them as He will bless

I have been much exercised this last week with the po&sibility of some trial coming to me from the resolute stand which I have taken, and ■will maintain, upon the subject of the liberty of my ministr^^ For the spirit of authority and rule in the church begins to grow upon me, and I fear much there is not enough of the spirit of obedience in our city churches to bear it. But I am resolved, according as I am taught the duty of a minister of the Gospel, to discharge it, and consider eveiything that may befall as the will of the Lord.

PRESENTIMENTS. 317

I was telling this to Mr. Dinwiddie this morning, for I find, good men, they have all their little schemes, after which they would hke to see me play my part, instead of looking to me, as one under Christ's authority, to watch over the church, and to be honoured of the church. The church was crowded both morning and evening ; but I am prepared, if the Lord should see it meet to try me here also, and I sometimes thmk I shall be tried here at some time or other. Now, my notion is, that the Lord is very gracious to me at present, per- mitting me to be strengthened ; that then Satan will have power against me for a season by every form of trial — and, alas ! there are too many open rivets in my armour; — but that in the end the Lord, if I abide

faithful, will increase me with much honour I

thank God that I am very strong ; and even now (ten o'clock) sleep begins to loose the curtains of my con- ception, and twihght is setthng in my mind

And now, dearest, I commend you and our httle one unto the Lord, and pray that the Lord may bless you and preserve you for a blessing to these eyes.

'-'Monday^ lUh November. — My dear wife, this has been a day sweetly varied with the good mercies of God, who in various ways hath used His servant to minister unto the comfort of His people, which I shall now set forth to you in order, being full of gladness and thankfulness. In the morning we had the Psalm of our Lord's humihations (Ixix.), and the chapter of Job's most pathetic lamentation and divine confidence in his Eedeemer (xix.), upon which I have been able to reflect more during the day by what I have seen, than I was able to reflect unto my family, though I sought

318 TUUK nROTHKHlIOOI).

for worils of oxliorlatii^ii. W*- av* re hosidcs our cnvn,

^Ir. J . :i tViriid iulroducc'd by IVars ; liev. IVlr.

Cox, of tlic Clunrli of Eni:liind, a oaliii, pious, and cluiritablo man, "wlioni I met at Ijiigliton ; and Sotto- mayor, tlic soldier. 1 had lo ^vitllstand tlie radicali^<m and ^•illage-to^vll conceit of the first, ^vllo cut all ques- tions with a keen blade of self-conceit, but neither of ■\vit nor understanding, in ^vhiell T was greatly assisted by the wisdom of ]\Ir. Cox, who, liaving travelled, was able to speak Avith authority ; and he delighted me with one declaration, that in the Catholic churches of Italy he had never heard a sermon (though he had lieard many) which breathed of saints' days and other mummeries, but always of sohd theology, deep piety, and much unction, and that he had met with many whom he believed most spiritual. My dear, I have often more concern about the issue of the intellectual forais of our own Church, which tend to practical and theoretical infidehtv, than of the sensual forms of the Itomish Church, wliich do tend to superstition, and still preserve a faith, though it be of the sense. Any^vay, I give God praise that eitlier w-ith us or with them He preserveth a seed. Wlien they departed, poor Sarah Evans came to me, troubled in her conscience, poor girl, that she had not confessed to me all her sins ; and she was about to open all her history in time past, when I interrupted her, and would not allow her to proceed. Poor thing ! 1 pity much her w^andering mind, still timorous and startled like one that had been lost, and not sure of havmg found the way. I tliink I must consult the elders about her. It is a hard case ; she is truly spiritual, but has a certain instabihty and flutter

THE PRODIGAL WIDOW. 319

in her judgment. . . . After her came a poor woman,

the sister of ]\fc M'W (formerly of Diimfriesshu-e),

who has been a prodigal for the last twenty-one years in a far distant land of the West Indies, having followed into dissipation a dissipated husband, buried ten chil- dren, left one, and now returned in formd pauperis, — left upon the shore by the good Samaritan, who provided her in a fortnight's lodging, expecting that in that time her brother, to whom he wrote, would be eao;er to reUeve her. But her brother seems more ashamed of her than sorry for her, and dreads her retiu-n to Scotland, and had written a letter, entreating me to get her into an hospital, which I found on my arrival. I liked its spirit ill, even before I had seen her, and wrote that I would not recommend to any hospital the sister of a Scotch clergyman in good cir- cumstances, except she should be wholly abandoned. Still he writes me, inchning to the finding an asylum for her in London, and wishing me to see her, wliich this day I appointed by letter, for she hves all the way at Shadwell, and is disabled of her side by a palsy. And she came, — a poor picture of the prodigal, lium- bled and penitent, and longing for her brother's bosom as ever the prodigal did for his father's. ' I should never be off my knees, I think, if I could but see John, and partake of his prayers and counsels ; the Lord would bring peace to my soul.' And she wept ; and she very sorely wept when I read her parts of her brother's letter, but confessed to her past siafLilness; and before she went away her last words were, with many tears, ' And tell him I am an altered woman.' .... So I sat down and wrote for the widow, and rebuked

320 rNDIKKcTKI) LKTTKKS.

mv brother sli;n|)lv. ;iiul l<>li] liiiii IkmmiuIiI loniMkclor Irt a i\K)iii arouiul liis lircsidc. Wliat may ho the issue I kiu)\v not; hut iiiy part, God lielping me, is to

lielj) tlie [)rodigal wiilow

"Tlien I went fortli to visit Mrs. V , as I set

down in my K'tte-r; hut hv tliankful tliat letter went not to the dead ollu-e, for <j;ivinL!: n udance to the object of my affections, whose name I tliought fairly inscribed, I found that it was fairly blank, and had to get pen and ink at tlie receiving-house.

James V (who is very great in the highest

mathematics, and reads La Place's Calculus of Gene- rating Functions, which that greatest of calcidators has applied to probabihties), immediately told me that La Place observed, to show how constant causes are, that the number of such undirected letters put into the Paris post-ofhce was year by year, as nearly

as possible, the same. Wlien I went up to Mr. P 's

shop I found his sister standing in it, and she took me up to her mother's sick-room, saying httle or nothing by the way. And her mother took me by the hand, and said, ' The Lord liath sent you this day, for my Andrew is cast into prison.' .... Andrew, you must know, is iDetrothed to a young lady Avhom he has been the instrument of converting to the Lord, and when he

left S 's, being unresolved what to do with liis httle

capital, which could not meet his present business, his betrothed's uncle said, ' Get your bills discounted, and you shall not want for money ;' for they had always said that he was to have £500 on the wedding day, and £oOO aftenvards. To this the servant of the Lord tnx'stiug, sunk liis money in his lease, tmsting to have

A LONDON SPONGING HOUSE. 321

his floating bills met by his friend, who, growing cool because Andrew did -not instantly succeed, withdraws his promises, and leaves our friend in deep waters ; and deals with his niece to send poor Andrew all his letters, and to request hers in return. This took place on Friday, and this day, at breakfast, two of the officers of justice, at the instance of a creditor, came, and he went with them. Thus was his mother left, and thus I found her all but overcome. I comforted her as I could, and prayed with her as I coidd, and saw that something was to be done as well as said. So commg down, I sat down to write in the back shop, while his sister sought some clue to the creditor's address, that I

might find the prison So I proceeded by Gary

Street, and, after dihgent search, found Andrew in a house of which the door is kept always locked, seated with three men who seemed doleful enough — one resting his forehead on liis hands, another reclining on a sofa, and the third contemplating, half miserably, half sottishly, a pint of porter. Andrew was close by the chimney corner. We communed together, and he was as calm and cheerful as Joseph, having Joseph's trust ; and of a truth, yesterday, he seemed to his own household hfted above himself. And he had tasted my evening discourse upon the minister's wayfaring, raven-brood life to be very good. And it is marvellous, we concluded our service with the 34 — 37 verses of the 37th Psalm,— as if the Lord would encourage me with respect to that service of wliicli I desponded to you last night. Wliile I talked with dear Andi'ew, not knowing but the others were the watchful officers of justice, he upon the sofa struck his forehead and

VOL. I. Y

322 .TOSKPIl I.V ITvISOX.

started t(^ liis foot \\\\h n mnnino :iir, ciying, ' Oil, God, tlu' lioiTors aiv coining u]k)U mo ! " and wildly, very wildly, strode tlirou'di the room ; so tluit I was stiindimi to my arms, lest he miL,dit be moved of Satan agjiinst me for the words wliicli I was speaking to Andrew. And lie with his liand njx)!! his head wept, and tlie other man would comfort with ' })atiencc ' — ' philosophy.' But the wounded man continued to burst out, and stride on. and beat his forehead. Whence we gathered that he had been there for a whole month, daily expecting releasement, but none came, every message worse than another ; and ever and anon lie spoke of his wife. Then, when his fit was over, in which ho talked of people putting an end to them- selves, and of the fits of horror which broke his sleep, I addressed words of comfort to him, and prevailed to soothe him ; so that, when I came away, he said, ' It were well for us to receive many such visits, Su\' But I must break off — the night wears very late, and I am getting too much moved. The Lord bless, for the night, my lo\ang and beloved wife, and the Lord bless our baptized babe — our httle daughter of the Lord !

^^ Tuesday, loth. — Andrew, wdio realised to me the idea of' Joseph in prison, liad come away in great haste, and omitted to take his Bible with him, wliich I supphed with my far-travelled and dear companion, now bound firmly as at the first. Those storms which I encountered upon the Yarrow mountains melted the cover of my writing-desk, and firmly bound the loose Ijack of my Biljle. Leaving Andrew, I proceeded to my enL'afjement at six o'clock in Fleet Market, which was to visit ;^Iiss M , and her brother and sister, who hve

FROM HOUSE TO HOUSE. 323

with lier. Their father dead, their mother in Essex, and two married brothers in town, so estranged from her by selfishness and workUiness, that ' if five shilhugs would save me from death, I hardly think I could muster it amongst all my relations.' Oh, what a blessmg to Scotland are her family ties ! Eamihes here are only associations under one roof for a few years, to issue hi ahenation and estrangement : I am grieved at my heart to witness it. But she abides strono; in the

Lord Her brother gave wonderful ear to me.

My words entered deep, for he wept almost continually, and was mucli overpowered ; and I do trust in the Lord that the lad may be brought to a more obedient and loving spirit towards his sister. Having finished a very sweet visitation, to which there came in an old woman, and a boy about to proceed to JSTorth America,

whom I also exhorted, I hastened to ]\Irs. P 's, in

order to set her mind, and especially her imagination, at rest, which Avould be conjiu-ing a thousand ideal frights about a prison. Which having done with much consolation to my own spkit, I called as I passed at Bedford Square to see if anything had ' happened

untoward, but found that all was well ]\Ii\

Scoresby was still sitting, and after I had taken a cup of tea, we came on oiu: ways together, enjoying much delightful discourse. The Lord is opemng his mind wonderfully to the right apprehension of the minis- terial ofiice. I arrived not at home till about ten o'clock, and assembled the family for worship ; and after writing the above, I went to bed and dreamt a dream of sweet thouo;hts — that I Avas sitting; at Jesus's feet and learning the way to discharge my office,

T 2

3-24 CIllIISTlAN INTKKCOUllSE.

liaving only six days lo lioar from tlio Divine Instructor, at wliicli liino llr was (o remove from tlio earth.

" I Avas nnicli refrcslkd l>v the sweet thou<jflits of tlie niglit, and arose very cheerful ; and while the family was at worsiiip, Mr. Sooreshy and Mr. Hamilton came in, whom I had invited on purpose to meet one another. Our nuM'ning was passed in sweet discourse, and after- wards I o])ened to Mr. Scoresby, in my own study, many of my views concerning the Church : into some he could enter, and into others not. But he is srow- ing richly in di\ine knowledge, and I praise the Lord for his sake. We prayed together before he went away, and I invited him wdien he came back to make

liis home ^vith us Then I addressed myself to

my discourse on the 1)ondage of law, and having wrought that vein till I was wearied, I betook myself to the correcting of another proof, and had gone over it once, and was about concluding the second reading, when a letter from Wm. Hamilton announced that Mr. David was much worse, and a few hours might termi- nate his life. Thereupon I left all, and proceeded to the house of death. On my way I met Mr. Simon proceeding to Bath in order to build up certain churches there who have besought his presence. We commended each other to the Lord, and took our several ways. I found Mr. David still Uving, and some faint hopes of amendment ; but I am prepared for the

worst, which I doubt not is the best. I wrote a

letter to Wilhe, who is at Norwich at school, opening

the afflicting inteUigence to him as best I could

I returned in time to get my proof-sheet finished for the post ; since which I have been labouring up the hill

DOMESTIC AVORSHIP. 325

with my lecture upon the pious women who ministered unto Christ ; when, at nine o'clock, a lady came in to enjoy the privilege of our prayers. At the church on Wednesday evening a sorrowful lady asked me if it was true that I read prayers at my own house and permitted people to come. I said, at family worship I dehght to comfort and encoiu:a2;e the hearts of all who are present, and if you come on a spiritual errand you shall be welcome. So this night she came, and hath opened to me her sorrows. Three months ago she lost her only boy, after three years' illness, during which she watched him continually ; and now she is alone in the world, with" a memory haunted and a heart stunned and broken, knowing little of the spiritual, and dwelling much in the imagmation. His sufferings had been extreme, and his death frightful ; and his poor mother, not more than your years, is now alone

in this great city, which to her is a great desert

Her husband was a Sicihan, and died before the boy

was born She wanted to know if she would

know her son in heaven. I could have wept for her, but I saw she needed another treatment, and therefore rebuked, but with kindness, her imagmations, and showed her the way to the spkitual world, whither I

pray the Lord to lead her The Lord enable me

to direct her in the way of peace Thus another

day has passed with its various incidents and various blessings. I have been oft in it enjoying near com- munion with God, and oft I have been cold and life- less. Wlien shall I be wholly vdth the Lord ? I do desire His abiding presence — the hght of His counte- nance Now may the Lord be the canopy over

326 A DKATII-BKl).

your liond, and over the liead of tlie l)al)e, this niglit, and over mine, enveloping us in the everlasting arms ! ^'l]'r<lnrs(f<ii/, KIM Xoremhcr. — Our dear, dear i'riend is no more. He departed about five o'clock, in exactly that frame of spirit which, above all others, I would

wish to die mj'self in In the five weeks of his

sore aflliction his robust and zealous spirit has had the meekness of a little child, and as a little child he was

taught of the Spirit in a wonderful way The

propitiation of Christ and his own unworthiness were liis chief meditations, and continued so to the last. During that time a worldly care has not crossed his lips. His soul has been fidl of love to all, and of great, great affection to me. I know not that I have one left who

loved me as he did He accompanied me to the

ship, with Mr. Hamilton, wdien I came to see you and little Edward ; now he is gone in London, and Edward lies in his cold grave in Scotland ; and I am left, and you are left, whom I feared lest I should lose ; and left we are, dearest, to bear fruit unto God, and fruit we will bear unto God, being cleansed by the word of Christ, and supported by the juices and nourishment of the vine, and dressed by the hands of our heavenly Father. Let us watch and exhort one another, as I now do you, my dearest wife, to much fi-equent private communion with God. This was what our friend had resolved to apply himself to with more diligence than ever if it had been the will of the Father to spare him. About three o'clock, I received a message from Wm. Hamilton that he was fast fading away, and had ex- pressed a wish to see me. I had proposed going about two hours after ; these two hours would have lost me

A GOOD VOYAGE. 327

the sweetest parting in my life — my child first born unto Christ, at least who is known to me. I found him far gone in breathlessness, but lively in hearing, quick in understanding, and full of the Spirit of Hfe. He stretched out his hand to me ; liis other was stretched

to his wife, on the other side of the bed I

prayed with him, and afterward continued, at intervals, to supply his thoughts with pregnant scriptures. I re- peated to him the 23rd Psalm, in which he was wont to have such dehght. This revived him very much, and he uttered several things ^vith a grave, full, deep voice, in- terrupted by his want of breath. ' My whole hope, trust, and dependence is in the mercy of God, who sent His

Son to save the meanest.' I saw death close at

hand, and drew near and took his hand. His breathing deepened, and became more like distinct gasps. And it failed, and failed, until his lungs did their office no more, and he died without a struggle of a hmb, or the dis- composure of a muscle — ^his mouth open as it had drawn its last breath - — his eye fixed still on me ; and we stood silent, silent around him. Then Mr. Bedome closed his eyelids. I know not why they do so. I loved to look on Edward's. Dear, lovely corpse of Edward, what a sweet tabernacle was that over which thy mother and I wept so sadly ! My much beloved child, my much-cherished, much-beloved child, dwell in the mercies of my God, and the God of thy mother ! We will follow thee be- times, God strengthening us for the journey. I had still an hour to sit ^dth Mrs. David, and to write sweet Wilham and his grandfather. She was comforted, and I left her tranquil. Mr. Hamilton, who is mucli afiected, was seated below, in the dining-room, and we came to

328 Tin; TIIKOLOGY OF .M KDICINE.

tlio Clmrcli tofrcllKT, wlieii I discoursed from the 24tli iind 2Mh verses of (lie 14tli chnpter of John, and made known to tlieni tlie sfood intellii:;ence that our brotlier liad liad a ^ood voyaixe so far as we could follow him, or he;u' tidiness lioin Imii. Mvciy one seemed dee[)ly aflected, and all whom I talked with were sensibly

rejoiced 'J hus aiiotlier of my flf^-k has gone to

tlie Chief Shepherd Andrew 1' brought me

up my Bible, having been delivered last night, and giving thanks unto God. I love him much; his mother, also, is better. So that the Lord hath shined from

behind the cloud James P is a very sweet

companion. Hall is still weakly. Tlie rest are well. I figlit a liard fight, l)ut let me never forsake private communion or I perish. TJie Lord bless you and our dear babe. I wish I were refreshed with a sight of you both.

" Thursday, two o'clock. — I have had such a conversa- tion Avith one of my congregation, a medical man,upon the subject of what I would call 'the theology of medicine,' as made me sorry you were not present to hear it. But in good time, when you are restored to me, you shall hear him often ; for he is both a gentleman, a man of science — the true science of nature — and a Christian. He discoursed upon infants, and the treatment of infants, so well and wisely, that I could not let this letter go without noting to you one or two things.*. . .

" Thursday, 1 1th Nov. — My dear Isabella, nothing is

* Here follows a minute record of the advice he had just received, rc7>orted with the most grave and anxious particularity, ?jut con- cluding thus : " To these rules give no more confidence than seems to your own mind good, and put youi- trust in the providence and blessing of Almighty God."

THE GLORY OF GOD. 329

of such importance as to have a distinct view of the end of all our labours under the sun — our studies, our con- versations, our cares, our deskes, and whatever else constitutes our being. For though many of these seem to come by hazard, Avithout any end in view, beheve me, my dear, that every habit arose out of an end, either of our own good or. some other good desu^able in our eyes ; and that the several acts contained under that label go to strengthen that end which it carried with it from the beginning. Now, dearest, our one, only end should be the glory of God, and our one, only way of attaining that end by the fulfilment of His will ; and the only means of knowing that will is by the faith of His word ; and the only strength for possessing it is the love, desire, and joy which are begotten in us by the Holy Ghost. Therefore be carefiil, my dear sister in Christ, to occupy your thoughts and cares with some form of the divine revelation, and to have before the eye of your faith some divine end present or distant, — yea, both present and distant ; and then shall you have communion with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ from morning to evening. This attempt, this succeed in, not by the force of natural will, which will make such a hirphng, hobblmg gait of it, but by the practical redemption of your Saviour, which will by degrees clear you of the former slough, and feather your callow nakedness, and give you wings with which to mount up into the exalted region of life. Have ever in view the glory of God, and ever seek help to it by prayer, and the Lord himself will lead you into the way. These thoughts occurred to me as I came home from Bedford Square, where I took dinner with our dear

330 IIUSKIXESS AROl'T Till: lUlAKT.

frioiuls, and I resolved I woidd AVTitc them for ycnir sake. I spent tlie morning in stndy upon tlie lielj) wliii'li women may aflord and liave allorded in tlie Churcli, and liave brouglit my lecture nearly to a close ; so that I have to-morrow and lu'xt day for the j^reat tliemc of legal bondage on wliidi I liave entered. I would, and earnestly ]')ray that I might, keep my thoughts during study intent upon the glory of God and the promotion of Christ's kingdom. And it were not dutiful if I did not acknowledge that the Lord is brimriuo; me into a region of nearer communion. IJut I cannot tell what huskiness there is about my heart, and in my discourse what seeking after intellectual or imaginary forms. Oh, that I could feel the very truth, and rejoice with the free joy of its inheritance! During my study, Dr. Wilkins came in, and discoursed to me for about an hour with a simplicity and beauty which ra\ished me. If he do not prove visionary upon further acquaintance — if his practical understanding be per- fectly sound, then he is the greatest accession to my acquaintance since I became acquainted with Mr. Frere, and will prove to me, in all that respects the chemistry of the bodily constitution, what other leaders have been to me in respect to the mental and the spiritual. The Lord hath showed me such marvellous kindness, in respect of teachers, that I cannot enough praise Him. . . . The object of liis discourse was to prove that nature had no tendency to any disease, but wholly the reverse ; and that, were it not our ignorance and per- versity, we would come to our full age, and drop into the grave as a shock of com in its season ; and he began his demonstration from the condition of the

THE SPIRIT OF A MAN. 331

child. . . . There was much more he had to dis- course of, but I told him I had enough for the present, and would hear him another time. He is a man of fine mamiers and a sweet nature, — of continued ac- knowledgment of God and blame of man

ISTow, dearest, I have put all this down for yoiu* sake, that you might meditate upon it, and make the use of it which you judge best. The man you will hke ex- ceedingly, that I know full well, because we are of one spkit now, or fast growing into one sphit — praised

be the mercy of our God The Lord be gracious

to you and all the house. I pray for you and baby, I oft think, \vith more earnestness than for myself, which is sentiment, and not faith. The Lord edify us in one most holy faith ; and Mary also, whose salvation I earnestly deske. Amen.

^'■Friday, l^th. — My dear Isabella, there is no point of wisdom, human or divine, so carefully to be attended to, for one's own good, or for the knowledge and good of others, as the spmt wliich men are of. For the spirit draws after it the understanding, and determines the views which men take of every subject, m the world of sight or in the world of faith. Some people remain under the spirit of their minds, and become in- tensely selfish. But the social principle leads the several spirits to congregate together for mutual defence and encom^agement. First of all there is the Holy Spirit, whose communion constitutes the true Church of Clmst, and you may be sure their opmions will be orthodox doctrine, charitable sentiment, sweet, patient temper, and, in short, transcripts of Christ Jesus our Lord. Then there is the worldly spirit, which is one in respect

332 DIFFEKKNT FORMS OF THE WORLDLY Sl'llilT.

of it^ opposition l<» llu' former, ;i ml intolerance of nil ils opinions ; but in respect to itseli", is divided into man}^ its name being liCLrion. Of these I find to prevail at present t lie following: — 1st. Around you in Scotland there is the si>irit of the Iiuiikui u/idt'r^taiiding^ of which scepticism of all things that cannot be expressed with logiciil precision is the characteristic, and an utter ab- horrence of all mystery; whereas, as you know, to the Holy Spirit of simplicity everything is a mystery un- foldinn itself more and more. There is also the siiirit of self-sufficiency, which characterizes our countrymen above measure. With us we have the spirit of expedi- ency, which calculates what it can foresee, and accounts all beyond to be void and unreclaimed chaos; it is utterly fruitless of any principle self-directing in the human soul, and would make man wholly under the influence of outward things. Of this class Owen is the fool. About the universities of England is the spirit of antiquity, which prizes what is recondite and difficult of discovery, and nms out into Eg^j^otian expeditions to the p}Tamids and the tombs. And amongst the common people there is, in direct opposition to this, the spirit of radicahsm, which hath n(j reverence for antiquity, or hideed for anything but its own projections. In the Church here there is the spu-it of formaUty, which often ascends into very high regions of beauty and comeU- ness, but Avants the living, acting, confirming principle — is but an Apollo Belvedere or a Venus de' Medici after all, — not a hving, acting, self-directing principle. I have not time nor strength to open the subject philo- sophically, but I have said enough to lead your medi- tations to it, which is all that I desire. For observe

TRY THE SPIRITS. 3.S3

you, my dear, that if you be of the right spirit, all things wiU right themselves in the eyesight of your mind. Hence the Holy Spirit is called also the spirit of trutli. We do not get right by conning our opinions back over again, but we change our opinions, as we do our dress, from a change in our spirit. Therefore these are often not hypocrites, but rash men, who are seen so suddenly to change their sides. And true conversion draws with it an alteration of all our opinions ; and conversion is properly defined as a change of spirit. How often do people say, It was all true he said, but spoken in a bad spirit. Now if you wish to be right, seek communion with the Holy Spirit ; and if you wish to know whom you ought to hsten to, by what manner of spirit he is of, try the spirits whether they be of God. Milton could not say, Jesus is the Son of God, because he would not yield to the Holy Spirit, but pre- ferred the spirit of radicahsm ; and as no one can know the Father but he to whom the Son revealeth Him, so no one knoweth the Son but he to whom the Spirit revealeth Him. And what is meant by having right opinions, or being wise, but to know the Son who is truth? And much more remains, wliich I may perhaps write hereafter.

" I gave God thanks for your letter, and for the answer of my prayers that you continued to stand fast in the Lord. With respect to your journey, you will easily reach Dumfries by postmg it ; and I think you ought to take the road by Biggar, Thorn- hill, and the Mth, as being the more pleasant, and I think, if anything, the more sheltered of the two ; although, in that respect, both are bleak enough ; . . .

334 A r.llNKDICTION TO TIIK AIJSKXT.

from Annan j-ou luul better take the way by Newcastle, and tlienee to Mr. ]>ell's, of B<\>^well, which T understand to be within seven miles of York, and I would meet you tlierc. . . . From Annan you will bring me two or tliree pairs of a shoe of a passing good form for my foot. Nothing has occurred to me to-day woith mentioning. I have enjoyed the presence of God be- yond my dcservings. I preached to Mr. N 's

people, and recognise iu them improvement, as I hope ; much in him. There was one idea which occurred to me worth writini:. How vain is it for man to tnist in God's mercy, when His own Son, though lie cried hard for it, could find none, but had to drink the cup of justice ! I am weary. The Lord be with you all !

" Saturday, IWi November. — I am so fatigued, dear Isabella, that I dare not venture to write ; but will not retire to rest without inserting upon this record of my dearest thoughts, a husband's and a father's blessing upon his dear ^vife and child.

^^ Sabbath, 20th November. — I have reason this night asrain to bless the Lord for His goodness to His unworthy servant, for I have been much supported, and have had great liberty given me to wi-estle with the souls of the people ; but I want much the grace of wrestling with the Lord for their sake. I feel daily drawn, hke the prophet Daniel, to some great and con- tinued act of humiliation and earnest supphcation for the Church, but Satan hindereth me. And yet I doubt not the Lord will work in me this victory, and that Ijy your help I shall yet be able to wait upon the Lord night and day, and to weep between the altar and tabernacle for the souls of the people. Lideed, I have

VISION'S OF THE NIGHT. 335

already planned that when the Lord restore you to my sight (in spirit we are never parted), we shall pass an hour of every day, from four till five, in our own room, with no presence but the presence of God, which we will earnestly entreat : and we will rest from our great labours that hour, and meditate of our everlasting rest. Before entering upon this day's labom"s, I will look back upon yesterday, that you may be informed of one or two things which will be pleasant to your ear. The death of our friend David hath wi'ought wonderfully for good with us all, so that men busy with the world have wept hke childi^en ; and all have, I think, had the spiritual seasoning intermingled -v^dth the natural feehng. It wrought upon me in the way of greater earnestness of spiritual communion ; and I think yesterday morning, in the visions of the night, I was conscious of the sweetest enjoyments of the soul I ever knew. There was no vision presented to my sight in my dream, but there was a sense of deeper meaning and clearer understanding given to oiu- Lord's parting discourse, which filled me with a spiritual dehght ; a fight of spiritual glory that was unspeakably mild and dehghtful. I awoke full of thanksgiving and praise, and bowed myself upon my bed, and gave thanks, and arose to my labours. I break off for worship. The Lord be in the midst of us !

" In reading the last half of the 16th chapter of John, I was struck with the 23rd and 24th verses, which show us why the Lord's prayer was not con- cluded ui Christ's name — because he was not Intercessor and High Priest till after His death. He was perfected, that is, consecrated (for the word for consecration was

a.ir. SUNDAY.

then porfcctinir), by .siifToriiijis. Tn \ho dnj^s of ITis llcsh lie liad lu) mediatorial i)ower, bul wius cuii(|ueiiiig it to Himself and Ilis Cliuivh ; and therefore lie called upon them to rejoice that lie wjis to go away. Now to return. All the day huii: I continued hi study, with walks in the garden and relaxations of histor)% mitil

after two o'clock, when I bore Mr. V company to

Bedford Square Tlicucel proceeded to the house

of affliction . Now I come to the labours, the

blessed labom's, of the Sabbath, Tliis morning I awoke at six, but was too weary to rise tiU eight ; and having gone over my sennon, with my pen in my hand, to bring it to very truth as nearly as I know it, I went to chui'ch with Mr. Dimviddie, who enters cordially with me into prayer, and is desirous of a more spiritual discom'se than when you used to walk with him. After Psahns and prayer, in which I liad no small communion,

we perused the 4th of Ilebrews Then I

commenced my discourse on Gal. ii. 14, upon the bondage of law, opening the whole subject of justifi- cation by faith, upon which I intend to discourse at large ; and I presented them first with a view of the dignity of the law, both outward in the state and

mward m the soul (But it has struck

twelve ; tlie Lord bless tliee and the child, and rest us tliis night in the arms of His love and mercy, so as we may arise as to a resurrection of hfe against to-morrow ! Amen.) To-morrow is come, and I am still in the land of the living to praise and glorify my Creator and Itcdeemer ; which having done according to my weak- ness, I sit down to my pleasant labour, after many inci- dents wliich must form part of my next despatch.

THE MINISTRY OF WOMEX. 337

Then showing them the Charybclis of hcentiousness upon the other side of the fair way, into which Anti- nomians and other loose declaimers against the law did carry miserable souls, and where also superstition and Methodism did bind them in bare bondage after they had seduced them from the wholesome restraints of law, into which law they ought to have breathed the spirit of true obedience — I concluded by entreating their prayers that I might be enabled to handle this vast subject with power, and love, and a sound mind (which I again beseech of you also)

"In the evening I was feeble in prayer to begin with, no doubt from want of faith ; but the Lord strengthened me towards the close, otherwise I thmk I should not have had heart to go on w^th the ser- vice, I felt so spmt-stricken My lecture was

upon the ministry of women in their proper sphere in the church, which I drew out of the Scriptures by authority ; and by the same authority hmited and restrained from authority, either m word or in discipline, to the gentle and tender ministry of love, and devotion of goods and personal services, which afforded me a sweet and gracious topic to descant upon, in defence of female hberty, and emancipation from worldly and fasliionable prudential laws and tyrannies of decorum, false delicacy, and other base bondages ; all which I set off with the historical illus- trations of woman's vast services, martyrdoms, shelter of the persecuted, care of the poor, to the seeming con- viction of the people ; and concluded with a summary of a Christian woman's duties in her various relations ; and insisted upon them, as they were members of my

VOL. I. z

338 MOKNIMi VISITORS.

c'liuivli, to br lu'l]>t"'il It) nu', or else I saw no j)i-ospeet

ol" Miiy Ljrowtli ol' eoinmuiiiou ill llie midst of us

Dearest, I liave set fortli in;iiiy lIiiiiLrs in tliis letter tor your metlitatioii. Tliey are seeds of thought (rather) thau ihouirhts ; the sjnrit of truth (rather) than the doctrine.'^ of tnitli. Tliink on these things, nnd meditate them nuK'h, and thr Lord give you undei'standing in all thiugs. For our babe v/e eau do notJiing but pray unto the Lord, and cease from amviety^ livhyj in faith ;

and cease from an.rieti/, lirin</ in faith

^'Monday, 2\st November, 1825. — May the Lord of His great mercy fill my soul with the fulness of love to my dear wife ; that, as Christ loved the Church, I uuiv love her, and in like manner manifest with all gracious words my unity of soid with her soul ; that we may be one as Thou, our Creator, didst intend man and Avoman to be fioui the beginning. This day, dearest, hath been to me a day of much and varied activity, which, being full of reflection and confhct, I shall recount in order. After good rest, which, l)y the blessing of God, my wearied head doth constantly enjoy, I arose about eight, and, being outwardly and inwardly apparelled, I came down to fulfil the will of

God, whatever it miglit be, and found Mr. M , the

artist, and Mr. S , also an artist, of whom I wrote

to you, as being one of my comniimicants, with whom and the family, having worshipped the God of our salvation, while breakfast was arranging in the other

room by good LL-s. Hall, Miss W and another

lady came to wait upon me, whom I went to see. The

lady iii a Mrs. S , dwelhng in the city, who has been

much blessed Ijy my ministry, and was Ijrought to it in

A DREAAI. 339

this wonderful way, as she told it me from her own lips. She had been much tried by a worthless husband, of whom you know there are so many in this tie- dissolving city ; and in the midst of her sorrowful nights she dreamed a dream : that she was carried to a church, of which the form and court, even to two trees which grew over the wall, were impressed upon her mind ; and there she heard a minister, whose form and dress, to the very shape of his gown, was also impressed upon her, who preached to her from these words : 'Blessed are ye poor, for yours is the kingdom of heaven.' This she communicated to one of her com- forting friends, to whom, describing the gown, she an- swered that he must be a Scotch minister who was intended by the vision, for they are the only people who wear that kind of gown. She had akeady heard Dr. Manuel and Dr. Waugh, but was sure they answered not to the figure of the vision ; but, as she passed a window, she saw a print of me, and was impressed with the resemblance. Heretofore she had been deterred from coming near me by the crowd, but now she re- solved some evening to come ; and, having taken a friend's house by the way, they strongly gainsayed her purpose, and would have taken her elsewhere with them, and all but prevailed. This detained her beyond the hour, and, when she returned, our psalm and j)rayer were over, and I was naming the subject of lecture, and the first words that fell upon her ears were the words of her dream : ' Blessed are ye poor, for yours is the kingdom of heaven.' She stood in the midst of a crowd hardly able to stand, and beheld and heard all which had been revealed to her in the visions of the

z 2

340 SL'EITICS.

iiiixlu. ... Is not tliis very iiKiivt'llous, dear Isabolla, aiul very irracious, llmt tlic l.ord should roiuibrl His peoplo by sucli a Avonn as 1 ;iin ? I t'xliortcd lier to abide steadfast, ;iiid to eoiue ;iL::iin iiiid see me.

" When breakfast was over, I brought Mr. S with

nie into tlie hbrarv. wliose li(\art. T ])('rc(Mved,M'as lull of some matter, wlio told me, with an a rtlessness and alarm whieh showed his happy ignoranee of our town infidelity, that a cousin of his had, in the course of reliijious conver- sation, declared his disbelief of Jesus being the son of Pavid, and disputed the genealogies, and had maintained that in Joshua's time they were but })oor geographers, othenvise they would never have alleged that the sun etood still. I M'as at pains to instruct him, and to teach liim the subtle arts of the tempter, but he concluded by saying that it was not for himself, but for his cousin, that he was concerned, and the big tear Idled his eye when he said it. I entreated liim to biing his cousin some night at our hour of prayer, and I would do my endeavour to set him right. Now I had received, this

very morning, a letter from one Gavin II , a poor

infidel, craving that I would pi'each a discourse upon the character of God, which he could not understand to be both merciful and vindictive ; and I had received two other letters, one with a pamphlet, craving help of me against the infidel Taylor, who is poisoning the City at such a rate ; and having likewise been entreated by two men to attend a meeting in John Street Chapel upon the suljject of the District Society for Evangelizing the Poor, I resolved to attend, though somewhat against my intention, considering that these things, put together, were a sort of call of Providence. Having

THE FOUR SPIEITS. 341

dismissed Mr. S , I had communion with Mr. M ,

whom Mr. A had been in much fear about lately,

lest he should be fallmg back, through the love of a young woman, and the companionship of her family, who were not spiritual. To this subject, introducing myself gently, modestly, and tenderly, I came and spoke upon it with feeling, as having been in hke manner tried ; — for in what way have I not been tempted, and, alas ! overcome in all ? ... .

" Then, being left alone, I sought to reheve my mind by perusing the history of those wonderful instruments of God, the Eoman people, not without prayer that the Lord would interpret the record of His providence to my soul. And I think that I was edified in it, until I had gathered strength to iiiiish your letter, which Brightwell inter- rupted me in, to whom I revealed all my convictions of the spirits that were abroad in the world, and whicli were defacmg the glory of the Church : the radical spirit among the Dissenters, the intellectual spirit in the Scottish Churches, the spirit of expediency among the Evangehcals. He could not see along with me through- out, but he saw more than most men I converse with. Do pray that the Lord may enable me clearly to dis- cern truth, and steadfastly to bear testimony to it ! It is a Jesuitical spirit that is opposing Christ among the Methodists. And these four spirits are so weakening the being of the Church, and corrupting the life which is faith, that, though their numbers may increase, it will still be true, ' When the Son of Man cometh shall He find faith on the earth ?'....

" I had engaged to dine with Mr. H at four

o'clock. ... I knew not that anything was waiting me

342 RKLIGIOUS BELLES.

there. But wliero is not tlio minister of the Lord wanted, in this distressed, imprisoned, and rebellious earth ? The old man w:u5 ill, and thry had been forced to bleed him. 1 went in to see him on liis bed, and would have prayed with him, but he professed he was not able to hear me. Ah, Lsal)ella. I fear for that old man : T Lnvatly fear his soul is asleep and will not awake. ]\lake your prayer for him, for he also shall be required at your husband's

hand. There are two Miss F 's, cousins of the

family, come to spend the winter, who talked much hke the young women of Edinburgh, chattering a vain palaver about ministers, and music, and organs, with wliich I would have nothing to do. But, after tea, I began to talk to them all, concerning the things of their

peace, and was led by Mrs. H 's questions to unfold

the judicial blindness to which men are at length shut up, and to open the whole matter of our dependence upon the Father, which was mightily confirmed by the first half of the ITth chapter of John, which is a mar- vellous acknowledgment of the Father's sovereignty. I pray you to read it and learn humility, self-emptying humility, and profound notliingness hi your prayers. They all wept, the religious belles as well as tlie rest ; and a young nephew, half-caste, about to sail for India, wept with a very full heart, after I had prayed with them all. I trust that family is growing in grace, and I fear they have long al^idden formalists. Eemem- ber this one thing, my Isabella, that we who have believed are by covenant to be brought into the full inheritance, but according to the Lord's time and pro- portion ; but surely as He hath sworn, we shall inherit, therefore abide waiting, abide waiting (how long did

BEST MANNER OF CONTENDING WITH INFIDELITY. 343

He wait for us?), waiting in perfect ftiitli of being led in.

"I took the John Street Church by the way, and heard them dehberating about an expedient to meet Taylor's blasphemous tract, that is soon to be pubhshed. They are very busy, these enemies of the Lord. He cannot bear it long. They are carrying the people like a stream away from God. But I told them it was not by the expedient of tract- writing or circulating, or controversial work, but by manifestation of the truth to the conscience, that they were to prevail ; and that, when they found the people upon that ground they should answer them with a caveat, that the matter at issue was not there, still giving them a reason with meekness and fear ; but sliift the ground as fast as pos- sible, not because the ground was not tenable, but because the kino-dom was to be contended for elsewhere. That the teachers ought to assemble to make them- selves masters of the infidel's fence, in order to interpose their shield against his poisoned arrows, but with the other hand they should feed the poor captive, and nourish him into strength to fight himself They heard and believed me. But I came away entreating tlie Lord to make me a man in the breach against these sons of Behal, and that I was willing to die if He would spare His inheritance from these fiery flying serpents of infidel notions, which have fallen in upon tliis central congregation of Israel. Tell your father to be on his post, and to tell his brethren to look to their arms, they know not how insecure their citadel is. Henry Drummond was in the chair ; he is in all chairs — I fear for him. His words are more witty than spii-itual ;

.144 A SUBTLE CANTAB.

his mnniier is spiritnel, not grave Tlion

I Cimie lionio, and innnodiatoly tlu-re gatliercd a ]ilca- sjint congregation .... to Avlioni, willi my family, I addressed the ^vo^d of cxliorhition, and opened the 103rd Psidni, that psahn ol" psahns, and our passage in order was Luke xiv. verse 25. TTow a])pro])riate to these eonnnunicants, but oh, Isabelhi, liow subhme ! None but God durst have uttered sucli an abrupt apos- troplie to a multitude of men ; and no midtitude of men would have borne it but from a manifest God. But liow contemptible a comparison of unresolved professors — savourless salt, neither good for the field of the Church nor for the dunghill of the world ! I pray you to consider this passage — it was more fertile to my soul than I have now strength to tell. The ladies went their ways, and left the two yoimg men, with whom having conversed in the study I found to be of a righteous

spirit, and pressing into the kingdom These

things rejoice me. The Lord enriches me with comfort. Blessed be His name ! Blessed be His holy name ! His thrice holy name be blessed for ever and ever !

"And now, dear, I am wearied, having fulfilled many gracious offices, and having had a breathing of the Spirit on them all, and on this not less than the others, my worthy wife. That thou and ours, and the house where thou dwellest may Ije blessed of our God for ever and ever !

" Tuesday, 22nd. — That subtle Cantab, \vith his logic, has almost robbed my Isabella of her tribute of love, he has so exhausted me. In the morning we were alone, and I arose much refreshed with sleep, and, after worship and breakfast, addressed myself to the work

A CIRCLE OF KINSFOLK. 345

of meditating the 5tli cliapter of the Hebrews in the original, which is so fLiU of tender humanity. To this I added, in the garden, some reading on the high priest's office, in Godwin's ' Moses and Aaron.' And as I walked I had much elevation of soul to the heavenly thrones, with certain cogitations of God's neighbourhood to very holy men, so that to me it seemed not possible to say whether He might not still work manifest wonders by their hand. Not to convince them Avith visible demonstrations, for that is the Cathohc sohcitation for an idol ; but to work spiritual wonders by their means. Thereafter I set myself to rough-hew my discourse, of which more when it takes shape ; taking among hands the ' Eoman History,' not without prayer that the Lord would open to me the mystery of his Providence, when, for the first time, (oh, unbehef !) it oceiurred to me that I was reading the rise of the fourth great monarchy into whose hands God had given the earth. The works of the Lord are wonderful — sought out are they of all those who take pleasure therein ; so wonderful was the rise of Macedon

and of Persia, for Babylon I have forgot

Another letter from Henry Paul, commendmg a

Miss M to me as one of the people of God who

"wished to join our fold. She is welcome in the Lord's name. I could not see her, being occupied with a httle

circle of kinsfolk, who were Peter F 's wife, and

daughter, and mother. . . . They are on their way to join him at Dover : (how full of painful interest that place is now become ! My Edward ! oh, my Edward !) The mother wishes to get a housekeeper's situation, for which she is quahfied, and desires your countenance ;

846 TLEASURKS (1F TlIK TAIILR — VKA SOUl' AM) TOTATOES-

SO, wliile you aro ;U Duinrrios and Ainiaii, Ipray you to satisfy youi-sclf of lier cliaractcr and ability, that wo may liol]^ lier, if we can. 1 roinmended tlieni to the Lord after they had eaten luvad with nie. Thereafter I addressed myself to reading, being broke up for the day by this welcome intcrniplic^n, until towards three,

when I bore James V on liis way to the inn, and

returned to my own solitary metd ; and after it I took myself much to task for want of temperance, which, after all, I have not yet attained to. It is a saying of one of the Fathers, ' In a full belly all the devils dance,' and Luther used to say, ' he loved music after dinner, because it kept the devils out.' But I believe the truth is, that temperance wrought by the >Spirit is the only defence, of which I felt this day the lack, although my dinner was wholly of pea soup and potatoes ; but I took too much, and was ashamed of the evil thoughts which have dared to show face in the temple of the Holy Ghost. "I prayed the Lord to strengthen me in all time commg for His greater glory, and proceeded, about five, on my way to Mr. Barclay's, Fleet Market, taking l)y the way a brother of Hall's, whose house joins by the back of the ehm-eli. Oli, Isabella, how frail we are ! There was a sweet l)oy of nine years, who had never ailed anything in liis Ufe, brought in one day to the jaws of death, if he be not already con- sumed of it, by the croup ; and a poor family, and, I fear, an ignorant one, with whom, having left my prayers and lielp, I proceeded on my way. The ])oy had said, ' Mother, do not fret ; I must die some time, and I wiU go to heaven.' So would patient Edward have said, if he could have spoken anything. Love not

THE SPIRIT OF A FORMER AGE. 347

Margaret after the flesh, but after the spirit, my clearest wife. I went with fear and trembhng to Mr. Barclay's, but with self-rebuke that I had not made it a day of prayer and humihation for their sakes. I had besought the Lord, but I did not feel that He was found of me ; and I had meditated, by the way, this one thought, kindred to what I set forth in my last letter, ' That when the Holy Ghost departs from any set of opinions, or form of character, they mther like a sapless tree.' Witness the preaching of Scotland, the voice of the Spirit of a former age ; witness the high-flying Whigs of the Assembly, the armour-bearers of the covenanting Whiss of the Claim of Eights ; witness the radical and political dissenters of England, the mocldng-birds of the Nonconformists ; witness the High Churchmen of England, who pretend to maintain what Ridley, and Latimer, and Hooper embodied. Aye, there is the figure ; the doctrine is the vainest when the Spirit is gone. Meditate, Isabella, this deep mystery of the spirit in man quickened by the Holy Spirit. I had one meditation at home, ' That immortal souls, not written compositions, nor printed books, were the primum mobile of a minister's activity.' I found father,

and mother, and two sisters, and from the first Mr. B

opened his doubts and difliculties to me, by teUiug me that he hoped to be able to enter better into my new subject than into my former, but declaring that he had seen new views of his sinfulness, and brought to look to Christ alone for salvation, whom he looked upon as liis Mediator, Litercessor, and Ee- deemer, but could not see as equal with God, though lie was God's representative. I opened the great

348 Tin: LOST sni:i':i\

mystorvas T could, trllinir liini :il the same time it was only to be ojieiied l)y tlu' Holy k^pirit, u[)oii whose ollices I enlarged, and went over a large field of demonstration with much satisfaction to them all, and deep emotion with the two daugliters, whom I think the Lord our God is callinLi-. Then we cainc to speak of dear David's death, by my recital of which they were veiy much moved, as also by my unlblding tlie blessed fruits of our Edward's removal. He has been much upon my mind this day. Dearest, I think light is breaking upon Mr. Barclay's mhid. Pray for him ; he is to mark his dilTicuIties, which I am to do iny endeavour to clear up. When I returned, here waited

]\Iiss W and a 'Mr. M'Nicol, from Oban, who, with

liis wfe, desired the ordinance Our chapter

was the first seven verses of the fourteenth of Luke. AYliat a touching appeal that parable of the sheep was for the poor publican to the Pharisees ; how deli- cately reproved they were, themselves being allowed to be as men who needed no repentance compared with these sinners ! Grant that ye are the unoffending, un- strayed children of the house ; but here is one that has ship^vrecked. May I not go and seek him as ye would a strayed sheep, and, if he return, will not the family forget their every-day blessedness in a tumult of joy ? The Lord strengthened me in prayer, and now He hath strengthened me in this writing beyond my expec- tations. Kiss our beloved child for her father's sake. I heard of you both by those airy tongues that

syllable men's names Fear the Lord, my wife,

always ; fear the Lord !

" Wednesday, 23n/. — This has been to me a day

THE INFLUENCE OF THE HOLY SPIRIT. 349

of temptation from dulness and deadness in tlie divine life. I know not whence arising, if it be not from want of more patient communion with God in secret, and more frequent meditation of His holy Word. Oh, Isabella, there is no abiding in the truth but by the indweUing of the Holy Spuit. It is not reasoning, or knowledge, or admonition, or council, or watchful- ness, or any other form of spiritual carefulness and abihty, but His own presence — His own Spirit, quick and hvely, which maketh us tender, ready, discerning, in the ways of righteousness and iniquity. The Spirit searcheth all things, yea, the deep things of God. Dearest, mistrust reasonings, mistrust examples, mis- trust prudential views, mistrust motives, and seek for an abiding, a constant spuit of hohness, which shall breathe of God, and feel of God, and watch in God, and care in God, and in all things reveal God to be with us and in us. A child possessed of the Holy Spuit is wiser to know righteousness from iniquity than the most refined casuist or the most enhghtened divine. It is truly a spiritual administration, the present administration of our souls, and we see but as tlrrough a glass, but after- wards face to face. When Christ, who is our life, shall appear, we shaU know as we are known. Oh, seek a pre- sence, an ever-abiding presence of the Holy One, for yourself and your husband ! Yet, though heavy in soul, I cried to the Lord very often, and He has heard my prayer. I know that we shall be tried with various tribulations, but we shall not be prevailed against. Wliile I was occupied constructing my morning dis- course, Mr. N came in, and we had a season of

brotherly communion. His sisters go forward, aU the

•A50 M:W TlvSTAMHNT IIISTOKV OF TlIK CllUUCll.

three, willi one consent, ami bear a loving licart to us and to all the people of God. They wished books to peruse, and I reconnnended to them Edwards' History of Redemption^ to read along with the Old Testament liistory of the Church, and to ])re})are them for reading the New Testament history of the Church. Oli, that this was drawn ii]) by one possessed of tlie Spirit of God, and not the spirit of history, who, in a short space and with a round pen, would draw it out after the manner of the books of Samuel and the Chronicles, adjoming to it specimens of tlie most pious writings of the Fathers, which might answer to the history, as the

])rophets answer to the Old Testament history

I also opened my lecture, which is to treat of the duty of the Church to support its ministers, for I perceive that, from want of being discoursed of, these great rudimental ideas of the Church have changed into con- venient and expedient arrangements of human -wisdom. " I dined alone, and after dinner kept on with the History of Eome, whose age of tumults and domestic seditions I have arrived at, the condition of people, with plebeian institutions, who have lost the bond of religion, and the domestic and moral obhgations resting on it. That tradition is remarkable of Julius Ca3sar's having the \'Lsion of a man (jf Lrreat stature and remarkable appearance inviting him to cross the Eubicon, which leaved the way to the empire, in which form it be- comes a prophetic object, and has a prophetic character. I have resolved, nevertheless, to throw that part of my book * which derived its materials from the l30ok of

* Babylon and Infidelity Foredoomed.

THE SOXS OF GOD AND THE DAUGHTERS OF MEX. 351

Esclras, into a note, lest I should give encouragement to the prudential advocates of the Apocrypha. It is

there that Julius Caesar is a prophetic character

When we came to Mrs. David's, I had such a desire to dehver Brightwell from pohtical leanuig in the Slavery- Abolition question, for I find they are to a man gone mto the idea that Christianity must have the effect of mak- ing the slaves disquiet ; that is, they lean so much to the pohtical question, that even themselves say, until they are emancipated, it is vain that you seek to Christianize them. Tliis is turnino- round with a vengeance : but it is so everywhere. Oh, my Isabella, how the sons of God are intermarrying with the daughters of men ! Every- where some evil spirit is seeldng alliance with the Holy Spirit. Tliis is to me an evidence that the deluge is at hand. Every day I feel more and more alone, and more and more rooted and grounded in the truth. The Lord make me faithful, though it were by the hating of father, and mother, and brother, and my own life. William Hamilton sees this matter as I do, and I found

Dr. M saw the question of hberty as I do : these are

the only two concurrences I have had m these broad and general questions since I came to visit you. But I thank God, in other matters of a private and personal kind, I am at one with aU the children of God. Oil, out of what a pit the Lord hath brought me ! How I abhor my former self and all my former notions ! I was an idolater of the understanding and its clear con- ceptions ; of the spirit, the paralysed, duU, and benighted spirit, with its mysterious dawnings of infinite and everlasting truth, I was no better than a blasphemer. Now the Lord give me grace to bear with those who are

35-2 WISDOM.

■Nvliat I lately was. This discourse wore mo out, niul, when I caine to church, I was more lit for a couch ami sileuce ; but I sought strength, and, tliougli I could not reach the sul)ject in all its extent — ' the prince of this world cometh, and hath nothing in me ' — I trust I was able somewhat to put the people on their guard against Satan's temptations, and establish the Church in Cluist,

their everlasting strength

'■'■ Thursday, 24ith In tliis record, which I make

daily for the comfort and edification of my dear Avife, I desire God to be my witness and constant guide, lest I should at any time consult for the gratification of my own vanity, or war}:) truth from the great end of His ^loiy, and the comfort of His saint. And may He not suffer the method which I pursue, of personal narrative, to betray me into any egotism or self-preference to the prejudice of holy truth ! In t lie morning, our dear

friend B. M came to breakfast, bringing (dihgent

man !) the sheets of the third volume of Bacon with him. He preferred to be with us during worship, and was veiy much affected, as I judge, by our simple service. We read that suVjlime evaluation of^visdom in the Book of Job (xxviii.), which was so appropriate to our dear friend's mind, though it came in course, and I was so stupid and dull, or overawed by his presence, as not to be able personally to apply it. Dearest Isabella, what a passage of Holy Writ that is ! What a chmax of subUmity, ranging through the profound mysteries of the bowels of the earth, and the knowledge of man and all his most valual)le possessions, and through the earth and the hoary deep, and through death and the grave, till at length he finds it in the simplicity of

FAKE WELL COUNSELS. 353

spiritual trutli : — ' The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and to depart from evil, that is understand- ing.' It is equalled by the nineteenth chapter, which is in the pathetic what the other is in the subhme ; ex- pressing the uttermost dejection and desolation, and from the depths of it all piercing through gloomy time, and hoary ruin and waste, to the resurrection, when he should meet the Eedeemer from all these troubles, and stand before Him m immortal being. My dear com- panion of thought, meditate these two chapters of in- spiration ; they will repay you well.

" The four German missionaries came in during prayer, and I think I had a spirit of supphcation granted to me in interceding for their sakes. We had sweet discourse during breakfast. I tliink our dear friend is melting into sweeter moods, and overcoming himself not a httle. I trust, by the grace of God, to see him a disciple of the Lord, humble and meek. His manner to me is utterly changed, permitting me to follow my own manner of discom'se in things spiritual and divine. When break- fast was finished, I left him and James together, and brought the missionaries into the Hbrary, for they came to take leave. Then I opened to them the condition of the world, as presented to us in the prophecy, and the hopes to which they had to look forward ; of the falHng ' of the cities of the nations,' that is, the super- stitions of the world. Then, as their constant en- couragement, I read them the seventeenth chapter of John : their Lord's intercession for their sakes, wliich now He hath power also to accomplish, if they have faith in him. Oh, Isabella, it seemed to me a rich re- ward of all their labours, that they would be brought

VOL. I. A A

354 A FrNKRAl-.

to a noniiT aoquaintaiu'c with tliesc most precious apostolic consolations, tlu' 1 Itli, l"»tli, lOtli, and ITlli chapters of Jolm. Then I recounted to them my own missionary success in London, tlie liindrances of Satan, the enmities of ni}' countrymen and their evil reports, the enemies in this place, and wliatever else was raised up against me, in order to acquaint them with the wonderful works of God on my behalf, unworthy sinner, headstrong rebel, as I am. Then we joined in prayer, and I besouuht the Tjord to be for home and friends, and wisdom and strength to these defenceless sheep, which were about to go forth among wolves. I made them write their names and nativities in my book, chielly for your eye, seeing you are not pennitted to see them before they go. I do again pray the Lord to be their guide and their prosperity.

" By this time the mourning coach had arrived, to carry me to the funeral of my beloved son in the Gospel, which took up, by Clerkenwell church, a

Mr. T , who, with his ^vife, are hearers in my

church ; with whom also I returned, and was enabled to speak clearly to his soul, without any shame- facedness, and, I trust, with pastoral love and fidelity. The truth drew tears from his eyes ; whether the Lord may bless it to his spirit. He who is wise will 'w^tness. When we arrived, there were several assem- bled of her trusty friends and nearest kindred, and

among others, ^Ir. A , the counsellor. He began

to remind me, in a voice httle apt to mourning, or mindful of the sacredness of the house of mourning, that the last time we had met was at the house of feasting, dining with the lords at the Old Bailey ; upon

THE JOY OF GRIEF. 355

whicli I felt it my duty, in order to overawe worldly intrusions, to take up that word and say that my friend had reminded me of our last meeting at- the house of feasting, and that as it would have been thought very mdecorous then to have obtruded the face or feehng of sorrow, so tliis house of sorrow and death had also its rights, which did not bear with the con- versation of hvely (minds) and worldliness ; but with humble moods and downcast spirits, and mourning before the Lord, and other afflictive conditions of the soid ; and when it was a Christian who was taken, and from Christians that he was taken, there should shine upon the troubled waters a gleam of hght, and a hope of glory, and thankfulness, and joy : the joy of grief that he had escaped the troublous and chastening deep.

This led to discourse that was profitable Poor

WiUiam wept very sore, but always sorest when I mingled rehgious warnings to him and counsels ; then he turned his face and his eyes to me, as we walked together in the churchyard, and wept without restraint, as if he had said, Oh, forsake me not, forsake me not ! And I will not forsake thee, my orphan boy, God not forsaking me. It drizzled and rained; several of the congregation were waiting there, to walk behind the company ; and when he was lowered into the grave, I stood forth to declare the conquest of death and the grace of God, in the faith of our brother, and exhorted the people to be of a good and constant faith, after which we prayed and departed to our homes and occu- pations, I trust not without motions of the Holy Spirit to a better life. Then applying myself to study what short mterval was left me, I proceeded to Bedford

A A 2

856 '• MANA(iKMKXT.

^quan' On my Avay, T called at 'Mv. II 's,

aiul foiiiul the old iiiaii ixrowiim worse; but he would not see me. *That is veiy i^eniarkable. I gather that lie sees liis ])artner. Dare lie not bear my probe ? It is wont to be very gentle ; but she is a saint growing

fast

"/V/<A/y, 2o//< November. — This morning I arose rather worn and weary I have all day expe- rienced that trial which many have continually, of a troublous body, but am better now at night. This condition of my body and mind was not relieved by many mterruptions, while I had upon me the weight of two discourses. First, I\Ir. Hamilton bringing me the

tichngs of ]\Ii\ n 's illness ; then Mr. ^Vllyte, who

called by appointment ; then Mr. Dinwiddie posting

with the same account of Mr. H . I would they

would help me, not beat me up as if I were slothful, when my poor soul is like to languish with too mucli exertion. But fonnality, formahty, thou art man's scourge ! and thou, spirit of truth and duty, thou art man's comforter ! ]\Iy elders have a nice idea of things being rightly managed, I wish they had the spirit of it ; and I think that also is grooving. Then came Miss

D with tlie same tidings ; and though I was in the

midst of weakness ^vith such a load on my mind, I went my ways with my papers in my pocket, having to meet

Mr. W at 'Mr. Dinwiddie's at dinner. I found Mr.

IT shut himself up from my visits, although he saw

both his medical man and his mercantile partner. I pray the Lord to be his Shepherd and comfort in my stead ; and we prayed in the adjoining room, and after- wards I came down-stairs to study, being puqiosed to

DETERIORATION. 357

wait as lona; as I could. Towards four Mrs. H came

to me, and we had much discourse with one another. She told me of the saintly character of her father, and

of Mr. H 's grandfather Why are there no

such saints in Scotland now ? Because their wine is mingled with water — their food is debased. It will nourish men no longer, but dwarflings. Oh, Scotland ! oh, Scotland! how I groan over thee, thou, and thy child- ren, and thy poverty-stricken church ! Thy Humes are thy Knoxes, thy Thomsons are thy Melvilles, thy pubhc dinners are thy sacraments, and the speeches which attend them are the ministrations of their idol. And the misfortune, dearest, is that the scale is falling every- where in proportion, ministers and people, cities and lonely places ; so that it is hke going into the Shetland Islands, where, though you have the same plants, they are aU dwarfed, and the very animals dwarfed, and the men also. So valuable is pure, unadulterated doctrine ; so valuable is pure faithful preaching ; so valuable is simple faith, and a single eye to the glory of God. How well the state of our Church, nay, of the Christian Church in general, is described by the account of the Laochcean Church. It almost tempts me to think more of the idea that these seven Churches are emblems of the seven ages of the Christian Church, to the last of which men are now arrived. My dear, if this is to be reformed, if it is to be withstood, and I have faith to undertake it, I think I must stand alone, for I can get no sympathy amongst my brethren. Dr. Gordon even has not had this revealed to him ; and for Dr. Chalmers, he is immersed in civil pohty and political economy, a kind of purse-keeper to the Church Apos-

.i.,.s TiiK m:w ciirKcii.

tolir. Ami lor Antln-w Thomson, lie is ;i i;l;idiator of iIk- intellcrt, his wcMiioiis being never .spiritnul, but in- tellectual merely, and lliesc (if an inferior order, — no- thing equal to those that are in the field against him. Of these things 1 -Am enhnly convinced ; f«^r these things I am truly troubled ; and to be helj)!!!! to tlie removal of these things, I i)ray God for strength continually. You must be a heli)meet for me in this matter as in other mat- ters, and, I pray you, for that as well as for your own blessedness, seek tlie purity of the faith, the sincere milk of the Word, that you may grow thereby. So I counselled

dear IMi's. II , when she looked out iVoiii those

eyes so full of sorrow, so full of doubt, so full of sup- plication, and gave mo her cold hand again and again, and often asking that I would remember them in my in'ayer.

"I walked melancholy enough along Burton Cres- cent, to see the church for the second time, which is now up to the level of the first windows, indeed above it, and in front the yellow stones are showing themselves above the ground, and when it is finished I doul)t not it will be a seemly building. But may the Lord fill it with the glory of His own spiritual presence, and endow iiic with gifts to watch over the thousands who are to assemble therein ! or raise up some other more worthy, and take me to His rest. Ah ! how for- mality hath worn out the excellent faculties of the females at Burton Crescent, and the continual longing for that state and rank whence they have fallen ! Oh, how thou dost skilfully take thy game, thou spirit of delusion ! Oh Lord, dehver Thou their feet out of the net, I do humbly pray Thee ; and give me grace to be

MINISTERIAL LIBERTY. 359

found faithful in tliis city of the dead. After dinner I opened my mouth to them all — Mr. Woodrow, Hamil- ton, Virtue, Aitchison — expounding to them the doctrme of the Holy Spirit, and the withered trunk of form, ceremony, and mere doctrine which remained when He was gone ; illustrating it by all things m which there was once a spirit of hohness, and which, during the last cen- tury, the most unspiritual, I think, we ever have had, faded away out of every thing ; whereby we are become these meagre skeletons of saints and ministers which I lamented over. They had nothing to say in reply, and, if I might judge, were a good deal impressed with what I had testified. The Lord give it fruit ! Mr. Woodrow and I came away at eight o'clock, and I bore him com- pany through Eussell Square. I think he is likely to be elected*, but it is by no means certain yet. The elders have been telling him that he must be more plain, as they are plain people ; that is, he must not leave their beaten track ; and that he must be shorter ; that is, not interrupt their family arrangements of dinner, &c, ; and that he must be more explicit in discourse, in order to gratify their cleske of mere fragments of knowledge, in- stead of receiving the living continuity of spirit and soul which a discourse ought to be. Oh, that cutting of truth into bits is like dividing the body into fragments ! death, death unto it ! The truth should breathe continuous ; the spirit of truth should inspire every member of a discourse, instead of our having it in those cold, hfeless limbs of abstract intellectual proportions. How your father would laugh at this ! Nevertheless, tell him it is truth, though ill-expressed in my present feebleness of

* As minister of one of tlie Scotch churches in London.

.SGO DRKAMS OF EDWAIJI).

conoeption. T told Wocnlrow if lu' yieldeil ;i scruple of his ininis(on;il liberty I "woukl call him brother no more, but impeaeli him of treason to tlie Great Prophet. Nevertlieless, I eneouraged him to be of good cheer, for he was a little east down. I eame home by Mr.

11 "s, and found him as 1 had left him ; but saw

her not — only comforted poor Agnes, whom I met

in tlie passage. Miss W came to prayers, and I

trust the Lord was with us. The greater part of tlic afternoon I devoted to your ear, Tibby, wliicli is to me more sweet audience tlian tlie ear of princes or of learned men. Fare thee well !

" Saturday, 2Gth November. — Yesterday and yester- night, dearest wife, I had many thoughts of our departed son, oui' first-born, and I was able to use David's words in the Psalm of that night, ' Thy judgments, 0 Lord, are just, and in righteousness hast thou afflicted me.' My dreams brought you and little Margaret before me, and I said. Dear Isabella, it is little Edward ; and was not undeceived till I saw her small black eyes instead of his full-orbed blue, whose loving kindness was so dear to me even in death. But my dreams withal were very pleasant, and not afflicted with evil sugges- tions. This morning I have arisen fresh and hvely, and have already neaily finished my discourses ; and now, at three o'clock, am hastening to cover this sheet with sweet thoughts for your dear mind, that you may

receive it l)efore leaving Fife. Mr. H is no more

in this world. He died aljout eleven o'clock, and I liave now a letter from dear Agnes. ^May the Lord comfort the widow and the fatherless ! I think I shall have time, after fmishing tliis, to hasten down, though

THE SPIEIT OF PRAYER. 3G1

it were but for a few minutes. Oli, Isabella! put nothing off, my dearest, put nothing off ; have nothing to do, have all besought, have all believed, have all done, and live quietly unto eternity ! Say so to your dear father and mother, and all the family. We know not what a day may bring forth. If you be languid, then cry for help ; if you be under bondage, cry for deliverance ; and abide believing, abide behoving ; opening your heart to the admonitions of the Holy One — your ear to admonitions of every faithful one. Turn aside from hes, from flattery, from vanity and folly. Be earnest, be grave — always ready. There will be no folly, nor laughter, nor bedimming of truth with false appearances, nor masquerading, in eternity. But I return. After prayer, in which I seek the spirit of prayer above all requests, for my soid wanders ; there is an under-current of feeling, and even of thinking. It is very amazing we can speak to God so, and not to any mortal. I am oft to seek for an answer to man, when I am thinking of another matter ; but I dare speak to God, though I am thinking of another matter. Oh ! what is this, my dear Isabella ? It is very lamen- table, and I lament it very much. The Lord doth not hear us because we ask amiss. JSTow, my dear wife, make it for yourself and myself a constant prayer that we may have the spirit of prayer and supplication bestowed upon us ; rather pause to recover the soul, than hurry on in a stream of words. I take it this must be still more felt by those who use forms, and that this is one of the chief advantages of the disuse of forms : but no means will charm forth the evil heart of unbelief He only who hath aU power in

:JG2 ■' MV DLMFlilESSUlKE.

lu'uvoh and eartli is able — uur Saviour and our Ij^)rd. N()W I liad aliiUKst rorujotlcn that this is the day before your coniniunion. It is stormy liere, may it be quiet with you; and to tlie siiints miiy it be a day oi" much refrei^liincnt ! . . . .

" Now. Avitli respect to your jounicy, if you set out on Thui-sday you must not go fartiier than Dumfries tliat week ; and tlien open your mind to Margaret and James Fergusson concerning the tilings of the Spirit. I3c not filled with ajjprehensions about baby. The Lord will prove your shield and hers. There is nothing will interest you till you come to the edge of my Dum-

friesshii'e After you go through Thorn) lill you

pass the Campbell Water Then, as you come to

the Shepherd's bar, you are upon 'Allan Cumiingham's calf-ground, and in the midst of a scene worthy of the

Trosachs Within four miles of Dumfries you

pass through a village. That village my uncle Bryce f()unded for the people at the time of the French Ke- volution, when he w^rote a book on Peace^ seeing well that the spirit of anarchy was out ; and a half-mile further ( )n you will see Ilolywood Manse, a bow-shot from the road, and the chm^ch, where my uncle and aunt he side

Ijy side Now, f(jr the rest, you will find a letter

waiting you at Dumfries The Lord guard you

on your journey, and temper tlie blast to the little

darling It is now past four, and I hasten to

salute Mrs. H . widow, with the blessing of her

liusband, and the children, or]^)hans, with the blessing of their father. Be at peace, full of faith and blessedness !

*-*■ Saturday ^2^jth November. — After putting your letter in the post-office, and still without any uplifting of the

PARALYTIC IN SOUL. 363

soul that it might be safely conveyed to you, and arrive in good season (so doth custom eat out piety),

I went dkectly to the H 's; Mrs. H , the most

composed, being manifestly full of faith, and by faith supported ; and I felt moved with much fellow-feehng. She spoke of his kindness to all — of liis charity to the poor — of his constant cheerfulness m a most perplexing and tried life — of his faith in Christ, though it had little outward appearance, — of all which I was well pleased to hear. We then went upstairs, and, having assem- bled the family, I sought to apply to them the 130th Psalm and the 4th and 5th of 1st Thessalonians : showing them that the only hope was in Christ Jesus either for themselves or the departed. Then I proceeded

to Mr. W , and received Mr. Bell's instructions for

you. The place is Bossal, near York. . . . You must go to the George Inn, York, which is the posting- house, and take a post-chaise to tlie house, where you are expected with much delight ; and may it be de-

lightfid to us all. Mrs. W is better. We had very

sweet discourse, in which I was enabled to maintain faithfully the truth, — I fear, not so much in the love of it as I could desire. And, oh ! I am pressed with the desire of nearer communion to the di\dne throne ! There is something in my spirit very paralytic there. Oh, that I could pray unto the Lord — even with what aflfectiou I write these letters ! I do earnestly pray the Lord to take the veil off my heart, and I believe in ffood time He will. . . . Now I o;o to seek the Lord in secret for us all. Farewell!

'■'■Sunday^ 27th November. — I have reason to bless the Lord, my dear Isabella, for His strengthening and

;JG4 iNDr.n-rniKi'.NT di' Tii(n"(iiiT dlklnc; riiAVKij.

encouniirinL' presence this day, hotli in the ministry of (lie ^\ orcl and df i)r:iy<'i- ; wliicli 1 rt'ceive as His wondei-- ful patienee with luv unworlhiiK'ss, and as a, siu'n thai His hand is towards nic for y-ood. In the nioi-nin<j[ prayer I was better al)h» to ahstrart my sonl from mid(>r tliouglit.s nnd to stand with my people before the Lord. I luive been led to think more concerninLr that nnder- current of thought during prayer, and I perceived it to be owing to our infidelity. The living and true God, Avitli His acts and attributes, is not present to our spirit ; but our own ideas of Ilim, and customs of dis- course, Avhich the mind presents while thinking of other things, as it doth in many other cases. . . . Therefore it is the aw^e of God's presence — the reality of His pre- sence— by which the soul is to be cured of this evil — this lieinous evil. It is the feeHng of this want which has introduced pictures and statues among the Catholics, and I take it to be the same whicli makes the Episco- palian attached to forms. But nothing will do, dear, but His own presence — the presence of His own in- visible Spirit in om- hearts, crying unto our Father Avhich is in heaven. Prayer, my deaiY'st, is the c(jni- plaiiit of the ILjly Spiiit under His incarnation in our liearts. Our chaptx'.r in the morning was the 5th of Hebrews, comprehendmg Christ's priesthood. But I find I have not strength for unfolding these high mat- ters. My beloved, fare thee well ! My baby, the bless- ing of the Lord upon thee !

"Li considermg the priestly office of Christ, be at ])ains to separate it from the ])rophetic. . . . My dis- <:ourse was on justification by failli alone. . . . And I c<jncluded with exhortations to humilil}-, and an abiding

MONEY, THE UNIVERSAL FALSEHOOD, 365

sense of the Saviour's righteousness, and of our own wickedness, and of a new principle derived from the former which should be generative of a set of works truly good, truly holy, truly blessed. In the evening I read the sweet and picturesque account of Isaac's courting, and took occasion to press the fidehty of the servant in all points, and to point out the verisimilitude which the narrative bore with the manners of the ages nearest to those times. I discoursed concerning the duty of the Church to their ministers in respect to support ; yet handhng the subject largely and widely, with the view of demonstrating the total disproportion between moral and spiritual services and pecuniary re- wards,— showing them my favourite maxim, that money is the universal falsehood, and the universal corruption, when we use it for discharging obhgations contracted by spiritual or moral services. For example, if you think the wage discharges you of your obligation to Mary, you are deceived out of so much spiritual feehng as should have repaid her, and corrupted into a world- ling ; and so if Mary were to thmk her obligations discharged by works ; and so of all gi\dng of gifts to express sentiments. They do express the sentiment, but discharge it they can never. This was a very fertile topic of discom^se, and full of warning to the worldly people. There were very large congregations to hear, and I trust they were edified. Our service extended to three hours in the morning, and two hours and a half in the evening, and I find I cannot relax. . . .

" Monday^ 2Sth. — This morning Sottomayor the sol- dier was with us, and James and I, partly of charity,

:l6n LESSON'S IX SPAXISII.

partly oi Miu'niuon to the old S]Kmish character and litoralurc, have agreed to take lessons iu Si)anish at seven every morning, which will curtail this letter. So we liave provided us in IJibles, with which we are to begin, and afterwards we shall read Don Quixote.

.... Tlien tlierc c«ame Mr. ]\[ io read Avith me

the Greek Testament, and we gave ourselves to the Cth chapter, which I will open to you in some other place. I think the Lord, by the help of Father Simon, hath enabled liie to understand it. Oh, I thank God

for the change upon that young man! Even P ,

who is very judicious, and was with him an hour alone, could disceni in him no superciliousness nor conceit. He is very docile, and is to come eveiy Monday for an hour or two. I hope to do for him what others have done for me. ...

" Tuesday, 2Wi. — Last night I endured the temptation of many evil thoughts and imaginations, which the good Spirit of God enabled me to overcome, althougl

it was a great trouble and vexation to my soul

Such an almighty and infinite work is the sanctiiica- tion of the soul ! Our Lord hath said, ' Satan cometh and findeth nothing in me.' Alas ! how otherwise with us ! The Holy Spirit cometh and findeth nothing in us ! . , . What a work is the sanctification of a soul ! It is second only to its redemption ; and to that second only in place and order, not in degree. Li the morning, we started at seven o'clock to the Book of Samuel, and made out one chapter with Giuseppe Sottomayor, wlio commends himself more and more to my esteem as a man of true principle and piety. I think the work of conviction goes on in his mind. He breakfasted and

!l

THE WINGS OF LOVE. 367

worshipped with us ; after which I came to my study, and did not rise, except to snatch a portion of dinner, till five o'clock. In that time I did httle else than study a chapter in the Hebrew Bible, and read Poole's Synopsis upon it, which is written in Latin, with abundant Hebrew and Greek quotations, that occupy me well — insomuch that, if my time -will allow, I pur- pose doing the same daily. For I fell in with a dictionary, which I can consider little else than a pro- vidential gift, in two handy httle quarto volumes, — a Latin dictionary, which renders the word into Hebrew, Greek, French, Itahan, German, Spanish, Dutch ; so that it is to me a continual assistance of the memory, besides affording a perpetual dehght in tracing the diversity and analogy of languages, in which I had always great pleasure. . . . During my sohtary study I received two sweet interruptions — one in the shape of a messenger from a far country, coming from one dear to you, but dearer to me, and who loves me too well to love herself well. Now, who is that ? and who is that messenger ? A riddle which I take you to re- solve. . . . The messenger was from yourself, in the shape of a letter, laying out yoiu- plans of travel, and making merry with my scheme. Now Kant's Meta- physics was not in my mind, but that better authority, the road-book. For you must know that, setting off on Monday morning, I can be in York, you at Bossal, to breakfast on Tuesday. ... So that you see there is neither Kantian negation of space and time, nor the wings of love, in the matter ; but simple, prosaic, stage- coach locomotion. . . . Being so far, I went on to Bed- ford Square. . . . But there is no getting a spfritual

368 rAl{Ani.ES.

(lisooiii*sc mjiintained : you can but set il foiili in into]- loctual j)anil)K's, wliii'li aro notliing so elliciciit as (lie j)anibles for tlio sense whicli (Uir Ivoid was accustomed to use. ]5ut, dearest, we must eitlier speak in parables to the world, or we must be silent ; or we must present a wrv and deceptive form n\' truth ; or we must cast our pearls before swine. Of which choice the first is to be prefeiTed, and our Lord therefore adopted it. Be- cause a parable is truth veiled, not truth dismembered ; and as the eye of the understanding grows more piercing, the veil is seen through, and the truth stands revealed. Now, parables are infinite ; besides those to the imagination, they are to the intellect in the way of argument, to the heart in the way of tender expression and action, and to the eye in the way of a pure and virtuous carriage. And the whole visible demonstration of Chiistian life is, as it were, an allegorical way of preaching truth to the eyes of the world ; whether it be -wisdom in discourse, or charity in feeling, or holiness in action. But I wander. I returned home about seven, and addressed myself to write my action sermon * ; but found myself too ftitigued to conceive or express aught worthy of the subject — ' Do this in remembrance of me' — and I know not whether anytliing may be jnelded to me this night worthy of it. ... I trust our meeting may be blessed to add gilts to us mutually. I am truly happy to anticipate it so much sooner.

"You are now among my dear kindred, who I know will be very kind to you, for your own sake and for mine. I owe them all a great debt of love and affeo-

* The name vumally given in Scotland to tlie sermon preaclied before the communion.

TOKENS OF GOD'S BLESSING. 369

tion, which I shall never be able to repay. I look to you to drop seasonable words into their ears, especially concerning their salvation and their little ones. For nothing is so fatal to Scotland as lethargy. I trust they are not nominal Christians ; but I would fain have deeper convictions of so important a matter. I pray you not to yield anything to your natural kindness at the expense of your health, and risk of the infant ; but in all things, as before the Lord, to take the steps which you judge the best, looldng to His blessing. To tliis also I charge you by your love and obedience to me. This day is very fine. I hope you are on your journey ; and I earnestly pray you may travel as Abraham did, at every resting-place settmg up an altar to God in your heart. We remember you night and morning in our prayers ; and I trust that the Lord will graciously hear us. At Annan I have nothing for you to say particularly, but to assure them of my most dutiful love and constant prayers, and to entreat them not to slumber. . . . The Lord bring you in safety to my bosom, and to your home. I know you will care for Mary in everything as one of the family, and bound to us by many acts of faithfuhiess and love.

" Wednesday, oOth November. — My dear Isabella, I am daily loaded with the tokens of the Lord's goodness, which I regard with the more wonder and gratitude, as I have been this week more than ordinarily tried with inward trials ; and to receive tokens of love from a friend, when we are wavering in our fealty, is also always very full of rebuke. But I have withstood Satan according to my ability, and he hath not been allowed to prevail over me, nor will, I trust, by the

VOL. L B B

nro iRvixcs axxikty arovt his wifks jouuxhv.

coutimuuico of unfailiuLr prayers So you sec,

my dear, what tokens 1 lia\i' of the Lord's blessing; there are not fewer tlian thirty-five wlio liavc come seeking to be joined to the Cliureli at tliis time; and no other season liavc I observed tlie same zeal, and intelligence, and faitli. Oh, that tlie Lord for their sakes would furnish me ^vith good ! I lament much that so few of the Scotch youths arc diawn. I think there is not much above one-third Scotchmen. I trust the Lord will draw near to them. I think they can hardl}^ fail either to leave the congregation altogether, or to join the Church, my preaching has been of late so separating. . . . This letter will reach you at Annan, where, individually and collectively, I pray my dutiful affection and ministerial blessing to be given by you. Farewell ! and may the Lord be your shade to-morrow in your journey southward !

" TJiursday, \st December. — The beginning of anew month, my dearest, Avherein let us stir up our souls to more hvely faith in these great and precious promises which we inherit from the death of our Lord, which you have so lately, and wdiich we are so soon about to commemorate. I look back upon the last month as one in which I have had various experiences of good and evil — encouragements beyond all former experi- ence, and trials of Satan proportioned thereto

I have had many revelations, and beckonings, and over- tures to enter mto the temple's inmost place, which I shall yet do, if the Lord pennit. If I allowed anxiety to prey upon me, I would now be anxious for you and the child, having seen by the papers that so much snow is fallen in the North. But the Lord, who sendeth His

A YOUJs^G VISITOR. 371

ice as morsels, and givetli the snow like wool, and scattereth the hoarfrost like ashes, will not let it ahght ' upon you without good and gracious ends, for the very- hairs of your head are numbered. I have had a good deal of conversation this night with ]\Ir. Hunter, who is returned from the Korth, concerning the comparative fatigue and comfort of posting and travelhng by the mail, and he says for both reasons, but especially for less exposure to the cold, the mail is to be preferred. .... Take wise counsel in the matter. I had a very

pleasant call this morning from Mr. W , desiring,

by conversation with me, to express his forgiveness of his friend, and to purge himself of all maHce and

revenge, before bringing his gift to the altar

After he was gone, I sought to continue my discourse, and, when I had laid down my pen to enter upon my Hebrew studies, I was interrupted by the call of a young lady, who had stolen to me, having heard me

preach, and thinking me hkely to listen to her

I thought the struggle between shamefacedness and fear on the one hand, and her desire of counsel on the other, would have wholly overpowered her. I found she had been taught of the Spirit without knowing it, and, when I taught her by the Word, it was sweet to witness the response of her soul pronouncing the Amen, 'That I know,' 'That I feel is true.' She is one in a family, and the rest have no fellowship

with her

"A proof-sheet occupied me till dinner, and after dinner I read the Eoman History till towards six, when I had to meet my young communicants, to introduce them to the session. There was a goodly

B B

n72 A '• IJKNKDK.T.

number (if lliom jM'osonl, to wlicmi I addressed a word of iiistruetion eoncern'mLT tlie infinite liouoiir to wliicli they were admitted, and llu- duties wliieli devolved

upon them in their Christian eaUing I liad re-

<-eived a letter from Andrew P , desiring that Ids

motlier might be remenil)ei'ed in our prayers, as one lookini: for deatli. Tins moved me to no and sec the alllicted servant of Christ, whom I found brought very low, and not likely to recover again, her children re- joicing in her joy, and content to ])art with her to the jo}- of her Lord. So the arrows of the Lord are flying on all sides of us. This made it past eleven when I got home, and I found Mr. Murray sitting to inforni me that he was about to become ' a Benedict,' which means blessed, — which means a husband. I wish them all happiness. And so was I hindered from ful- fdling this duty, being overladen with sleep, and worn

out with labour

'-'Friday, 2nd December. — This morning, dearest,! felt, when called at seven, the effects of yesterday's labour, and was not able to arise, from headache, which I durst not biave, having such a weight of thought and action before me ; therefore I lay still, endeavouring to sleep it off, and rose not till half-past nine, when, descending quietly, I sought to get to work Avithout interruption, and, thank God, have made out a good day's work, being well-nigh finished with my action sermon ; and, for the rest, I am very much disposed to depend upon the Spirit to give me utterance. For to-morrow, all the

morning I have to be helpful to Mrs. H , and the

evening I have to preach to the people. After work- ing with my pen, I took an interlude of history, walk-

EVILS OF FOKMALITY. 373

ing in the garden, when my thoughts are fullest of our darhng. But, indeed, I know not how it is, I tliink the last two or three days I have been thinking of him too much, and last night I dreamed he was in life, and, though drooping like a flower, giving hope of health again. He was on your knee, and I thought I caught the first sign of hope — to seize him and carry him into the fresh air, when it all vanished before me into the sad reahty. Then I addressed myself to my Hebrew studies, at which I continued till I went forth to minister comfort to JMrs. H 's family, with whom I wor- shipped, opening to them that Psalm of divine sorroAV (the xhi.) where the Psalmist, in all his sorrows, sees nothing to lament but his distance and separation from the house of God, and the communion of His people. I came back at half-past eight, having several appoint- ments with those who had not spoken to me in time, yet sought with earnestness to approach the table of the Lord. And now, more briefly and less feehngly and spiritually than I would have desired, have I set forth to you the incidents of Thursday, which to my soul hath been a day of consolation. Oh, that the Lord would break these bands of sleep — these heavy eye- lids of drowsiness, my beloved wife, and awake us to the full vision of the truth and possession of the things of faith ! You are now, I trust, by the mercy of God, seated beside my most honoured parents, to whom I present my dutifid afiection, praying the Lord to com- pass them with His grace ; and, oh, tell them to press inwards to the temple ; not to rest, but to press onward. Exhort them from me to have no formahty. Tell them that, until rehgion cease to be a burden, it is

374 liKNKDUTlON.

notliiiig — till jirnvor cense io bo ;i Avearincss, it is nothing, lluwcvcr diHifiilt. and however imperfect, the spirit must still n'joiie in it. after the inward man. . . If I Avi'ite nnich longer, you ^vill not lie able to read; f>r there is a great combination against nie — a weary hand, a heavy eye, a pen worn to tlie quick, a dull mind, and a late hour ; and a day before me of much occupation. Therefore, farewell to all that arc with you, and to all with whom you abide !

" Saturday. — I thought, my dearest, to have rmished this before the post, but Jiave been taken up all the morning, till two o'clock, doing the last duties to our beloved fiiend, Mr. H ; and liaving to preach to- night, I rather choose to take up the only hour that is left me in meditation for so many souls. The Lord bless you, and the house in which you dwell ! I trust in the grace of God to sustain me to-morrow, and to give you a good journey.

" The Lord bless my fatlier's liouse !

" Your affectionate husband,

" Edwaed Trvjkg."

" If you take the mail from Carlisle, you should take it only to Kattrick Bridge, or, perhaps, a stage farther. I think it is but eighteen miles from Kattrick Bridge, and the landlord seemed to me a verj' pleasant old man. If the time of leaving Carlisle be too soon, you could perhaps go on a stage or two the night before. The Lord direct you in all things !

" Forget not the shoes — I care not how many pairs, only pay for them ; for rn}' mother will always make herself a beggar for her children."

IRVmGS ONLY JOURNAL. 375

Thus concludes a journal which, perhaps, has no parallel in modern days. A picture so minute, yet so broad — a self-revelation so entire — a witness so wonder- ful of that household love, deepened by mutual suffer- ing and sorrow, wliich so far transcends in its gravity and soberness the more voluble passions of youth — has never, so far as I am aware, been given to the world. It is not wonderfid that over the vicissitudes of more than a quarter of a centmy, the scattered remnants of the family, once admitted, even in part, to the secret soul of such a man, should remember these letters with a certain tearful exultation, the traces of the departed glory ; nor that the wife, to whom all were addressed, should have cherished them to the last as too sacred for common sight. This is the first and only journal of Irving's hfe. On various occasions afterwards, he was separated from liis wife for considerable periods — but never again produced anything hke the affecting history, at wliich he laboured day by day and hour by hour, to cheer the mother of his dead baby, as she lay, weak and sorrowful, ui the faintest hour of a woman's hfe, m the sad affectionate shelter of her father's house. Few men or heroes have been laid in their grave with such a memorial as envelopes the baby name of Httle Edward ; and I think few wives will read this record without envying Isabella Irving that hom^ of her ancjuish and consolation.

;i7(>

LlIAiTEK Xil.

182G, 1827.

AiTCK tlie full and detailed personal portrait Avliicb Irving gives of himself in these journal -letters, a period of comparative silence follows. This was the silent seed-time of the exciting and exhausting years, full of conflict and struggle, upon the threshold of which he stood. The full flood of life which now carried liiiii along was not more visible in his actual labours than it was in the eager progress of his mu'esting and ever-active spirit. Whe- ther his mind had ever been content with the solder Pres- byterian ideal of a democratic Church, in which the will of the people had really, if not nominally, a distijict and apparent sway, and in which the priests were subject to the pei'petual criticism of a community too much dis- posed to argument and uidividual opinion to yield much veneration to their legitimate leaders, it is difficult to say; but the Scotcli imagination has always found a way of escaping from those prosaic trammels. That which the outside world has distinguislied as rehgious liljerty, and recognised as the oljject of the many struggles in which the Church of Scotland has engaged, has never been so named or considered uuKjng the champions of that Church. Their eyes, throughout the long and eventful drama, have been fixed, not upon the freedom

THE HEADSHIP OF CHRIST. 377

of individual worship, or the rights of the Christian people, but upon a much loftier, ineffable principle, often converted into an instrument of evil, yet always retaining, to some, the divinest sunshine of ideal perfec- tion. Now-a-days, when martyrdoms are no longer possible, and heretical stakes and blocks are long ago out of fashion, it is more difficult than it once was, to ideahse, out of a struggle for mere ecclesiastical autho- rity, that conflict wliich, in the days of blood and vio- lence, so many humble heroes waged for the headship of Christ. To many a Scotch confessor this doctrine has stood instead of a visible general, animating the absolute peasant-soul to so distinct a conception of Christ's honour and authority, as the object for which it contended, that the personal ardour of the conflict puzzles the calm observer, who understands as nothing but a dogma this inspiring principle. The events which made the great crisis in the existence of Scot- land a struggle for her faith, drove this lofty, visionary conception into the ideal soul of the nation, where it has ever since existed, and is still appealed to, as the experience of to-day can testify. When, according to the evidence of facts, the Covenanters were fighting against the imposed liturgy and attempted episcopacy of the Charleses, they were, to their own fierce con- sciousness, struggling for the principle that, in the Church, Charles was nothing, and Christ all in all ; nor has the sentiment failed in more recent struggles. Irvms had received this national creed alons; with his earliest impressions : he had even received it m the still closer theocratic model well known in ancient Scotland, where God the ruler was everywhere visible, in provi-

o78 A JJAITIZKI) C'1IK18T1:M)0M.

denco, judgmenl, and nioivy. JJut liis iin])nssioncd soul led him to reconstruct upon tliese sublime elcmeuls au- other ideal of a Clmrcli tliau that \yh\ch has long been supreme in Scotland. Unconsciously his thoughts ele- vated thomsolves, and grew into fuller development; unconsciously he assumed in his own person the priestly attitude, and felt hhnself standing between God and the people. Then the community itself rose under his glowing gaze into a baptized world, — a Christendom separated by the initiatoiy orchnance of Christianity, of whicli Christ was the sole head. Tlie lomzer he con- templated this w^orld, the more it rose out of the region of doctrine into that of reahty. That Lord became no distant Presence, but a Person so intensely realised and visible, that the adoring eye perceived the human pulses tlirobbing in His veins ; and for awe, and love of that mysterious union, the worshipper could not keep silence. That faith became no system of words, but a divine evidence and substantial proof of the unutterable glories ; that baptism grew out of a symbol and cere- mony into a Thing, — an immortal biith, to which God Himself pledged His Avord. One can see this wonderful process going on in the transparent, vehement spirit. Everytliing suffered a change under those shining eyes of genius and passion. From impersonal regions of tliought they rose into visible revelations of reality. To a mind instinct with this reahsing principle, the con- ception of a Second Advent nearly approaching was like the beginning of a new life. The thought of seeing His Lord in the flesh cast a certain ecstasy upon the mind of Irving. It quickened tenfold his already vivid apprehension of spiritual things. The burden of

EXPANSION. 379

the prophetic mysteries, so often darkly pondered, so often interpreted in a mistaken sense, seemed to him, in the hght of that expectation, to swell into divine cho- ruses of preparation for the splendid event which, with his own bodily eyes, undimmed by death, he hoped to behold. He had commenced his labom^s, and the studies necessarily involved in those labours, with a certain expansion of spiiit, and power of subhmating whatever truth he touched, but no apparent diverg- ence from ordinary belief. But years of close dweUing upon the sacred subjects which it was his calhng to expound, had borne their natural fruit. Not yet had he diverged; but he had expanded, intensified, opened out, in an almost unprecedented degree. Special truths, as he came to consider them, glowed forth upon his horizon with fuller and fuller radiance ; hfe and human affections seemed to go with the adventurer mto those worlds of beheved but not appreciated divuiity ; and, as he himself identified one by one those wonder- ful reahsations, which were to him as discoveries, with ever a warmer and fuller voice he declared them aloud. Such was his state of mind in the comparatively silent, and in some respects transition, period to which we have now reached. His first sorrow did but strengthen the other influences at work upon him, wliile at the same time his many and continual labom^s acting upon his health, obliged him to withdraw a httle from the din and excitement of his battle-field, and left him fuller scope for his thoughts. In his winter sohtude, while his wife was absent, he had begun, more from benevolent motives than with any idea of making use of the accomplishment, to study Spanish ; but, before

3vS0 BEX-EZRA.

he IkuI mndo aiiv izront advances in llie laiiLriia<ro, ;i mannor of turning tlic new gift to tlie profit of the Cluireh ciune, l)y a complication of causes — to liis eyes clearly providential — in his way. A Spanisli work, entitled " The Coming of the Messiah in Gloiy and Majesty," professedly written by Juan Josafat Ben-Ezra, a Hebrew convert to Christianity, but in reality, ac- cording to the facts afterwards ascertained, the produc- tion of a Jesuit priest, called Lacunza, was brought to him, as he describes in his preface to the translation of that work, by friends who had been specially impressed by his own views on the same subject. He found in it, as he declares, " the hand of a master," and not only so, but " the chief work of a master's hand ; " and feeUng assured that his God liad sent this " masterpiece of reasoninti " to him " at such a critical time, for the love of His Church, which He hath purchased Avith His blood," he resolved " to weidi well how I mio'ht turn the gift to profit." The result of his ponderings was, that he midertook the translation of the book, c'onclud- ing, after his fashion, that the Church was as open to receive instiiiction, wheresoever it came from, as he himself was. Not very long before, he had stood up against the champions of Catholic emancipation, taking, without a moment's hesitation, the unpopular side of the question, and declaring with the utmost plainness that, " though it expose me to odium in every form, I have no hesitation in asserting it to be my belief that when the rulers of this nation shall pennit tQ the wor- shippers of the Beast the same honours, immunities, and trusts which they permit to the worshippers of the true God, that day will be the })lackest in the history of

THE SPANISH JESUIT. 381

our fate." But in tlie face of these uncompromising sentiments, and almost in a breath with the expression of them, he comes, with characteristic candour and openness, to the feet of the Spanish priest, receives his book " as a voice from the Eoman Cathohc Chiurch," just as he claims for his own preaching to be " as a voice from the Kirk of Scotland," and finds it his duty to interpret between the Jesuit preacher and the English world. A better illustration of the native candour and simphcity of his mind could not be. Few Protestant preachers would take upon themselves such an office ; and those who could beheve their own views enforced and supported by the concurrence of a Cathohc writer, would be, according to ordinary rules, men of tolerant, not to say latitudiuarian, principles, — not rigid upon points of difference. Of a very difierent kind was the toleration of Irving. It was not toleration at all, indeed, nor any modern convenience, but simple love for aU who loved his Master's appearing, and unfailing belief in the human utterance which speaks out of the abundance of men's hearts. The same voice which had just declared its horror at the thought of pohtical equahty for the Cathohcs, and doubtless had been ana- thematised as the voice of a bigot in consequence, declares, immediately after, the determination of the speaker to give no Protestant comment upon the Jesuit's simple words. " The doctrines of the Eoman Church," he says, " which now and then appear, are brought forward with so much simphcity and sincerity of faith, and so httle in the spirit of obtrusion or con- troversy, that it seemed to me hke taldng an advantage of the honest, weU-meaning man to enter the hsts

naa i kv i nt. s coxsistexcy.

aLTainst liim. iinaccmitred ii-^ lie was Oil, no ! I

luul uo licart to catcli liini (ripping, or to expose the weakness of so dear a teacher, concerning whom I was continually exclaiming to the com]ianion of my solitary labours, ' I hope yet, in t>ome ol" my I'ulure pilgrimages, to meet this gray-haired saint in the flesh, and receive his blessing, while I tell him how much I love him, and have profited from liis instructions.' "

Tliis contrast of sentiment will possibly puzzle some observers. Irving, it is evident, was not careful to preserve his consistency ; but it is difficult to make out how a man who laboured so lovingly over, this priest's book, and presented him, all Jesuit as he was, to the Protestant world, as a teacher to whom he himself looked up, could be much of a bigot, even though he took the most uncompromising and decided position on the pohtical question of Catholic disabilities. Hjs views on political questions generally seem to have been forming at this time into a more decided shape than they had hitherto possessed. Out of the eclectic personal creed of a professional man, to whom politics were secondaiy, they had consolidated into something which from the outside looks like Iligh Toryism, in its most superlative and despotic development. His frequent references to the " Convocation-book," de- scribed in his letters, and the conclusion he arrives at, that subjects are not justifiable in taking up arms against their lawful governors, seems, at the first glance, a singular principle for the descendant and cliampion of the Covenanters ; but it belongs, as naturally as any other development of doctrine, to the elevation and growth of all his thoughts. To him, with whom

A CHRISTIAN NATION. 383

the limit of practicability told for nothing, and whose business was with the far more generally forgotten or sKghted ideal form of things, the consi- deration of how it would work was out of the question ; enough men there were in the world to consider that ; his work was entirely of another description. To his eyes, full of subhmating hght, the secular forms of government stood forth like the spiritual, in all the authority of Di\dne origin. The nation was a Christian nation, perilling its very existence by the admission into power of any who did not recognise the principle of its being. The powers that be were ordained of God. The purity of the national faith was the safeguard of its Hfe, and the ark of national safety was in danger the moment that unhallowed hands touched or approached it.

Such was the poHtical creed of the fervid Scotch preacher, when the world was palpitatmg around him with CathoHc struggles and the early essays of Eeform. Almost all the strength of contemporary genius went with the popular stream. He, all old-world and unpro- gressive, stood against the tide. How circumstances could modify behef, or indi\ddual and temporary hardships set aside everlasting trutli, it was not in him to understand, nor did he enter into the less or more practicable degrees of national virtue. His stand was taken upon the absolute. From this point of view he protested against the abohtion of tests, against the emancipation of Cathohcs, and, most of all, against the great atheistical principle, as he held it, that power was derived from the people instead of from God. Upon this, as upon the antipodes of those lofty

384 roLiTicAL orixioxs.

politico-religious pri!icii)los wliicli lio irnnsclf held like a projiliet in a world consciously ruled of God, lie looked with horror. Such elevated theories of govern- ment are not always necessary to disgust though tfid men with the doubtful and unreliable impulses of popu- lar supremac}'. liut Irving's \'iews were nt)t founded upon any calculation of results. To put power into the hands of any man wdio was not ready, and, indeed, eager, to declare himself a follower of Christ, according to the apparent means of Christ's own appointing, was an act of national sacrileire to him who considered himself bound to obey that power when exercised, as the ordinance of God. Thus a political creed, which time and the horn' have made obsolete, as being all impracticable, flashed forth into life in the hands of a champion who thought only of riglit, and never of practicabihty. Whatever may be said of those doc- trines of Divine right and religious government, wdiich by times have been perverted by human ingenuity into the most horrible instruments of cruelty and national degradation, the grand idea of a Christian nation, governed by Christians, on the broad basis of that law which is good-^vill to man, as held by such a mind as that of Ir\dng, must always remain a splendid imagination : no vulgar pohtical beUef, although it called forth from the optimist demonstrations of his o^vn strenuous sentiments, which were swept off, all futile and unavailing, before the inevitable tide.

Early in the year 1826, the work of Ben-Ezra came into Irving's hands, confirming and strengthen- ing his heart in respect to the new revelation of doc- trine which had already illuminated his path. He had

KEST AND KELAXiVTION. 385

begun his Spanish studies only a fcAv months before, with the view of helping his friend, Giuseppe Sotto- mayor ; and it was not until summer that he mider- took the translation of the book which had impressed him so deeply. He had, by this period, so exliausted his strength in his ordinary pastoral labours, that his conorefation became anxious about his health, and insisted on the necessary rest and relaxation which alone could recruit him. " About this time," as he himself says, " it pleased the Lord to stir up the greater part of my flock to exhort me by all means, as I valued my own health and their well-being, to remove a httle ffom the bustle and intrusion of this great city, and abide in the countiy during some of the summer months ; and two of the brethren who loved me much engaged, unknown to me, a place in the country, where, without forsaking my charge, I might reside in peace and quietness amidst the beauty and bounty Avith which God hath covered the earth. This occm-ring so unexpectedly, at the time when all concerned were soliciting me to undertake the whole care and respon- sibility of the translation, and perceiving that the work was hkely to suffer from a divided labour, without being at all hastened, I resolved at length, insufficient as was my knowledge of the language at that time, to conquer all difficulties and heartily to give myself to the Lord and to His Church during these weeks of retirement ; for I was well convmced that the health wliich I most needed was the healing waters of the Holy Spirit, which I thus made bold to sohcit, by devoting myself to His service ; and certainly the labourer was not disappointed of his hire. I prevented VOL. I. c c

a86 IJKCKKMIAM.

tile' (lawniiiLT of tlio inorniiifr, ;iii(l 1 envied tlie settiiifr in of the slnules of cveiiiiii:; to ltil)oiir in iny work ; and when my liands and my eyes failed iiir, because of weakness, the hel])er whom God li;ilh <xiveii meet tor me served me with hers, and so wc laboured to bring tliis hibour of love to completion, purposing to offer it to tlie Church as our Christmas ofrering. Oh, that my brethren in Christ might liave the same divine satisfac- tion and unwearied dehght in reading, that I had in transkiting this wonderful work ! "

Tl would l)e diflicult to add to without impairing the perfection of this beautiful sketch of the summer leisure which L'ving " gave to the Lord." The retire- ment of the pair, so wonderfully united in labour and sympathy, was at Beckenham ; where, with that child of tears over Avhom they could not choose but watch Avith double solicitude, they hvcd in quiet, at least, if not in repose, for the greater part of the summer. During all this time, Living went up to London every Saturday, remaining until Monday, to fulfd Ids usual laborious ministerial duties ; and in the interval laboured, as he has described, at the woi'k — ])erhaps (if all literary labours the most tiresome and wearing out — of this translation. Such was his version of relaxation and ease. He worked at it so closely, that he Avas at one time threatened with Ljss of sitrht in consequence — those strong out-of-doors eyes of his evidently not having been adapted by nature lor j)oring perpetually over print and ])aper. However, he appears to have known the tiiic medicine for his own case. The \dllagc quiet, and incidental advan- tages, passively enjoyed, of fresh air and summer

IEVING's "helper meet for him." 387

greenness, comforted and refreshed his heart, as he sat labouring with his imperfect Spanish over the long treatise of Lacunza ; and, in the calm of those toils, liis health returned to him. The defect in his eyes even helped him to find out the auxihary which was at hand, and of which in after times he largely availed himself. "I rejoice to tell you that Edward is very much better," writes Mrs. Ii'ving to her sister. " He has now made me almost entirely his amanuensis. I even write his discourses, which to liim is a most wonderful rehef. This will surprise you when you remember he could bear no one in the room with him ; still he can bear no one but myself ; but he can stop and give ear to my observations." .... And the anxious mother diverges from this description into expressions of subdued alarm lest baby should have the whooping-cough, and a wife's tender admiration of her husband's increasino; fondness for the cliild. Once more the strain is idyllic ; but the fond woman's letters, in which " dear Edward " appears as the centre of everything, invested with a certain impersonal perfection, do not convey so clear a picture out of the bosom of that domestic happiness, tranquilhty, anxiety, love, and labour — the subhme but common course of life — as the brief words in which he himself comme- morates the summer scene. It was a halcyon moment, subdued by the touch of past sorrow, and that trembling which experience so soon brings into all mortal enjoyment, yet sweet with the more exquisite happiness which only those who have sorrowed and trembled together can snatch out of the midst of their years,

c c 2

88S THK lIinKRNlAN BIBLE SOCIETY.

Tliis laborious ivtiivinont liad ])vcu ])rccedecl by tlie toils and oxoitemciits ot' a Ijt)iidoii May, with all its calls upon the powers and the ])atience of the great orator. One of the relisjrious meetinsrs of the season was distmguished by an oft-told incident — one of the common wonders which liave established Irving's character for eccentricity among those who know little more of him than is conveyed by such anecdotes. This was the meeting of the Hibernian Bible Society, at which, the previous year, he had made so remark- able an appearance, denouncing and resisting the terror or complacency with which its members yielded to a popular outcry. This year — probably, as one of his frienels suggests, that he might oiler his support as openly as his rebuke — he gave his watch, till he should be able to redeem it, to the subscription in aid of the Society. It is the only incident standing out from tliis tranquil period of his hfe.

During the summer of 1826, while Irving was busied with his translation, the expectation conveyed in this Spanish book, to which his own mind and that of many others liad been directed, with special force and clearness, not wtvy long before, seems to have swelled within the minds of all who held it, to such an amount of solemn excitement and inquiring interest as could no longer keep silence. If the advent of the Lord w^ere indeed close at hand ; if events were visibly marchinir forward to that j^reat visible era of doom and triumph, as so many students of prophecy concurred in beheving — it was but natural that a hope so extra- ordinary should bring the httle brotherhood into a union far more intimate than that of mere concurrence

ALBURY. 389

in belief. The bond between tliem was rather that personal and exciting one which exists among a party full of anxiety for the restoration or election of a king —a patriotic band of conspirators furnished -with all the information and communications in cipher which cannot be given at length to the common mass — than the calmer link between theologians united in doctrine ; and mdeed one wonders more at the steady pertinacity of human nature which could go on in all the ordinary habitudes of the flesh under the solemn commotion of such a hope, than at any kind of conference or extra- ordinary consultation which might be held under the circumstances. "A desire to compare their views ^^dth respect to the prospects of the Church at this present crisis " naturally arose among them, as Irving informs us in the preface to Ben-Ezra ; and after several meetings during the summer, a serious and lengthened conference on the subject w^as arranged to take place at Albury, the residence of one of the most remarkable of the little prophetic parliament, the late Henry Drummond.

It is umiecessary to enter into any history of this remarkable man, who was but the other day, in the full force of his wonderful individuahty, taking his part in all the affairs of the world. That individuality was too marked and striking to permit any calm, general opinion of the merits of a man who was at once a rehgious leader, and the patron of rehgious distress throughout the world ; an independent influence, and most caustic critic in the British parhament; a believer in all the mys- teries of faith, yet a contemptuous denouncer of every- thing beyond the shadowy line which he recognised as dividing faith from superstition ; the temporal head, in

390 IlENKY DKUMMOXD.

some respects, of a l>:in(l o\' ivligionists ; and 5'et a man ill lull coinimmiitn witii llu- busy world, keepini!; the car of society, and never out of tlie fullest tide of life. Such a conjunction of character had never been witnessed before in Jiis generation, and has given ocaision for estimates as diilerent as are the points of view from which they are taken. Such as he was, all impetuons and wilful — with an arbitrary magnifi- cence of disposition possible only to a man born to great riches, and unconscious of many of those natural restrauits which teach most men the impossibihty of putting their own will into full execution — Mr. Drum- mond had from his youth dedicated his wealth, his wit, his unparalleled activity, his social position, eveiything he had and was, to the service of God, according as that appeared to his vivid but peculiar apprehension. Before this time he had ap})cared in the track of the Haldanes at Geneva, where the dead theological lethargy of the early Eeformed Church was again waking into life, and liad heard the Hebrew WoliT questionhig the Eoman professors in the chambers of the Propaganda. Xot very long before, Irving himself, a ver\" different mould (A' niaii, had recorded in his jouinal a certain dissatisfaction with the perpetual external activity of the restless rehgious potentate. But this warm link of common behef awoke closer feehngs of brotherhood. Henry Drummond, impatient, fastidious, and arbitrary, a master of contemptuous expression, acting and speaking with all the sudden- ness of an irresponsible agent, was as luilike a man a.s could possibly be supposed to the great Scotch preacher, with all the grand simphcity of his assump-

COXFEREXCE FOE THE STUDY OF PEOPHECY. 391

tions and tender brotlierliood of his heart. But " they who loved His appearing " were united by a spell which transcended every merely human sjniipathy ; and from this time ]\Ir. Drummond appears to have exercised a certain degree of influence, varying, but always increasing, over the career of Irving, Their first point of actual conjunction appears to have been at this meeting of prophetical students, held at Albury. When the summer was over, with all its restraints of labour and fashion, and early winter whitened the gentle hills of Surrey, the grave little company assem- bled in that house, which has since given character and colour to the district round it, and become for one division of Christians a kind of visible Beth-El in the wilderness of men's houses.

" One of our number," says Irving, in the preface already quoted, " well known for his princely munificence, thought well to invite by special letter all the men, both ministers and laymen, of any orthodox communion whom he knew or could ascertain to he interested in prophetic studies ; that they should assemble at his house of Albury Park, in Surrey, on the first day of Advent, that we might deliberate for a full week upon the great prophetic questions which do at present most intimately concern Christendom. In answer to this honourable summons, there assembled about twenty men of every rank, and church, and orthodox communion in these realms ; and in honour of our meeting, Grod so ordered it that Joseph Wolff, the Jewish missionary, a son of Abraham and brother of our Lord, both according to flesh and according to faith, should also be of the number. And here, for eight days, under the roof of Henry Drummond, Esq., the present High Sheriff of the county, and under the moderation of the Eev. Hugh M'Neil, the rector of the parish of Albury, we spent six full days in close and laborious examination of the Scriptures These things I write from recollection, not

aOl' COXCERXIXCi TIIH SECOND ADVENT,

carinor to use tho copious notes vvliich I took ; for it was a nuitvuil uiuU-rstaiuliii":; that notliinsj^ sliould go forth from the niL'ctin*,' with any stamp of authority, that the Church might uot take offence, as if we had assumed to ourselves any name or right in the Church. But there wa.s such a sanction given to these judgments by the fulness, freeness, and harmony which prevailed in the midst of partial and minor differences of opinion; bj'the spirit of prayer and love and zeal for God's glory and the Church's good ; by the sweet temper and large charity which were spread abroad ; and by the common con- sent tliat God was in a very remarkable way present with us — that I deem it my duty to make knowm tliese great results to the Christian churches which I have thus so early an op- portunity of addressing.

" Having said so much, I think it to be my duty further to state the godly order and arrangement according to which tlie All)ury conference, concerning the second Advent, was conducted ; for to this, under God, I attribute in no small degree the abundance of blessings Avitli which our souls were made glad. We set apart a day for each subject, and resolved to give no more than one day to each ; and as we were but six free days assemljled, having met on the Thursday and parted on the Friday of the week following, we joined the fourth and seventh subjects together, conceiving them to be closely connected with one another ; and having apportioned a separate subject to each day, we proceeded to each day's work after the following method : we divided the labour of each day into three parts — a morning diet before breakfast, the second and principal diet between breakfast and dinner, and the third in the evening. The object of our morning diet, to which Ave assembled at eight o'clock precisely — as early as we could well see — was twofold: first, to seek the Lord for the light, wisdom, patience, devotion to His glory, communion of saints, and every other gift and grace of the Holy Spirit which was necessary and proper to the labour which was that day appointed us in God's good providence ; this office was always fulfilled by a minister of the gospel. Secondly, one of the number was appointed over night, and sometimes several nights before, to open the subject of the day in an orderly and regidar way, taking all his gTounds of

A SCHOOL OP PROPHETS. 393

argument, and substantiating all liis conclusions out of the Holy Scriptures ; and while he thus proceeded, the rest of the brethren took down the substance of what he said, and noted down the texts from which he reasoned ; for we sat in the library around a large table, provided with every con- venience for writing and for consulting the Holy Scriptures. When the outlines and divisions and whole groundwork of the subject were thus laid out by the brother, strengthened by our prayers, we parted without at that time declaring anything, and refreshed ourselves with breakfast, where we met the pious and honourable lady and family of our worthy host. Two full hours were allowed from the breaking up of the morning till the assembling of the midday diet, which was at eleven o'clock, in order that the brethren might each one try and prove himself before the Lord upon the great questions at issue, and that we might come together with convictions, not with uncertain persuasions, and speak from the conscience, not from present impressions. And when we assembled, and had shortly sought the Divine favour to con- tinue with us, an office generally performed by our reverend Moderator, he proceeded in due course to ask each man for his convictions upon the subject which had been laid before us in the morning ; and the rest diligently used their pen in catching the spirit of what dropped from each other's lips. No appeal was allowed but to the Scriptures, of which the originals lay before us ; in the interpretation of which, if any question arose, we had the most learned Eastern scholar perhaps in the world to appeal to, and a native Hebrew — I mean Joseph Wolff. In this way did every man proceed to lay out the nature and ground of his convictions, which was done with so much liberty, and plentifulness, and mutual respect and reverence of the Holy Word, as much to delight our souls. Now this diet, lasted oft four, and sometimes almost five hours, — our aim being to gather the opinions of every one before we parted ; and when we tired, we refreshed ourselves with prayer, which also we regarded as our main defence ag^ainst Satan. This diet also we closed with an offering of thanksgiving by any of the clerical brethren whom the Moderator might jDitch upon. After dinner we again proceeded, about seven o'clock, to the work of winding up

394 lUVIXG S VERSES.

and conohuliii!:^ the whole subject; but iu a more easy and familiar manner, as being seated round the fire of the groat lil»rary-room, yet still looking to a moderator, and with the same diligent attention to order, each seeming desirous to record everything that was said. This went on by the pro- pounding of any question or difficulty which had occurred duriug th^ day, addressed to him who had opened the sub- ject, or to any other able to resolve it : and so we proceeded till towards eleven o'clock, when the whole duties of the day were concluded by the singing of a hymn, and the offering Tip of an evening prayer. Such were the six days we spent inider the holy and hospitable roof of Albury House, within the chime of the church bell, and surrounded by the most picturesque and beautiful forms of nature. But the sweetest spot was that council-room where I met the servants of the Lord — the wise virgins waiting with oil in their lamps for the bridegi'oom ; and a sweeter still was that secret chamber where I met in the spirit my Lord and Master, whom I hope soon to meet in the flesh."

And upon this the warm emotions of the preacher burst forth into verse — verse less melodious and full of poetry than his ordinary diction, but not less the expression of those high-pitched and lyrical chmaxes of feehng which naturally find utterance in rliythm and cadence. The narrative, however, wliich Ir\dng gives in such detail, redeems the singular assembly out of that obh- vion into which it and its proceedings have since fallen. What their deliberations were, or the results of them, is neither important to this history, nor is the present writer qualified to enter into such a subject. Tliey who had set their chiefest hopes upon the personal appear- ance of our Lord, at a period which some actu- ally fixed, and all regarded as close at hand, looked also, as a necessary preHminary of that appearance, for a personal development of evil, more remarkable and

THE ANTICHRIST. 395

decided than anything that had preceded it ; and had so identified and conchided upon the source from which this antichrist was to come, that the ruin of the First Napoleon, and the death of his harmless and unfortunate son, had so much effect upon one, at least, of the dis- appointed expounders of prophecy, as, when fact could no longer be contradicted, to bring an ilhiess upon him. This gentleman, as common rumour reports, first de- clared that it could not be, and then " took to his bed " in dire disappointment and distress.

A more formal accoimt of the deliberations and con- clusions of this extraordinary little assembly was pub- hshed by Mr. Drummond himself, first in 1827, and afterwards when the successive meetmgs took place. These reports, however, being given in the form of dialogues conducted by Philalethes, Anastasius, &c., are by that masquerade so withdrawn out of all recognisable individuahty, that neither the persons who took part in the conference, nor the liistorian of it himself, — piquant and characteristic as are his other ^vritmgs, — are able to throw any perceptible token of their presence through the chaos of words and consultations. The assembly only meets agaui in Irving's Preface^ and in a hghter sketch made by the missionaiy Wolff, who, about this time, had come over to England under the patronage of the pious autocrat of Albury. " Within the chime of the church bell," as Irving says — looking out upon the woods and lawns which inclosed that venerable remnant of ancient masonry, within the walls of which another ritual and a fuller worship were to connect and commemorate the names of Ii'ving and Drummond, occurred this conference — the begin-

n96 A lll'.KALl) OF TlIM l,<iKI)S CO.MI.N'C;.

ning of tlie second rlinjitcr of llic pronchor's career — a ]')rayerful rrfrriil n|" i>icly, siirr<>uii(le(l l)y all llie genial oUservauces of ]u)>j)ilalily ami liimiaii commuiiioii. It is an era of no small iin])ortaii(e in Irviiig's life. Doubt- less a more than usual aAvakciiing of general interest on tlie subject of prophecy — so often Kl'l in the mystery wliicli can never be fully cleared up until the end come — was evidenced by a consultation so remarkable. But of the men there assembled, there was, perhaps, no such indivisible man as Irvini;- — none so liable to be seized upon by the splendid expectation, Avhich was henceforward, more or less, to abstract his thoughts from things more earthly ; or to give himself up, with such ever-increasing devotion, as a herald of his Lord's coming. This he did henceforth, often losing, in the breathless interest of his tlieme, all regard to those necessary boundaries of time and space, of which he never had been too observant.

His companions are described generally as ministers and meml3ers of all the different orthodox churches — men both la}- and clerical ; some of them already dis- tinguished, and some who were hereafter to become so. Mr. Hatley Frere, who, according to his own testimony, was the first to turn Ti'viiig's tlionghts towards pro- phecy; Mr. Lewis Way, whose publications on the Second Advent Lrvino; cites, alonn; M'illi his own and that of Ben-Ezra, as a token of the unity of three churches in the one great doctrine ; the Eev. Hugh M'Xeil, since so notable a member of his party in the church ; along with Wolff, Drummond, and Irving, are the only members named at this early conference. But the solemnity of the meeting, the importance which all

SIGIS^S OF THE TIMES. 397

its members felt to attach to it, and the evident curiosity- it awakened, make it of itself a remarkable incident in the history of its time. That time was clearly a time of expectation. An age of great events was just over, and the public mind had not yet accustomed itself to the domestic calm. At home the internal economy of the country was sweUing with great throes — agonies in which many people saw prognostics most final and fatal. Out of all the visible chaos, what a joyful, magnificent dehverance, to believe — through whatsoever anguish the troubled but short interval might pass — that the Lord was coming visibly to confound his enemies and vindi- cate his people ! No wonder they assembled at Albury to build themselves up in that splendid hope ; no wonder the empire thrilled, through some thoughtful, and many believing minds at the mere name of such an expecta- tion ; — least wonder of all, that a mind always so lofty and attuned to high emotions as that of Irving, should have given itself over to the contemplation ; or should shortly begin to cast wistful looks over all the world, not only for prophecies fulfilled, but for signs approach- ing— watching the gleams upon the horizon which should herald the advent of the Lord.

Tliis meeting, he tehs us, delayed the completion and publication of the book wdiich had cost him so much toil ; but it was after all only the January of 1827, when that laborious performance, with the long preface, which occupies half of an octavo volume, and is one of his finest and most characteristic productions, was " offered to the Church." I can find no evidence of the amount of favour which Ben-Ezra and his work attained in the Church ; but the transla-

398 THE FIFE BANK.

tor s preface lias been often quoted, and was re-printed in a separate form, along Avitli .scMiie other of Irving's shortest and least known publications, a few years ago, by some of his admirers in Glasgow.

The year 182G contains few letters and little do- mestic incident. Once only, besides that picture of the tender seclusion and generous labours of the little fi^mily at Beckenham, which I have already instanced, the clouds open round the Pentonville house. It is to show the great preacher and his wife consulting toge- ther over a calamity which has suddenly fallen upon her father's family. The minister of Kirkcaldy had been the unfortunate possessor of shares in the Fife Bank — a local joint-stock banking company — which had fallen into sudden ruin by the misconduct of some of its managers ; such an occurrence as unhappily has been familiar enough to us all in more recent days. Immediately upon hearing of it, the first impulse of Irving was consolation and lielp. He and his Isabella took the matter into tender consideration — so much money was expected from a new publication — so much was at present in hand ; and with suggestions of lofty comfort in his heart, and warm, instantaneous filial im- pulses of aid, he thus writes to the laLlier in trouble : —

" 21st January, 1826. " My dear Father, — I have heard from Elizabeth of the loss in wliich you have been involved by wicked and worldly men, which is nothing new in the history of God's faithful servants, and ought not to trouble you. He that hath the stars in his right liand may say to you, as to the angel of the Church of Philadelphia, *I know thy poverty (but thou art rich).' Jiern ember we are but promised to live by the altar, and the rest is so much burdensome stewardry, to which we submit in

HELP AND CONSOLATION. 399

accommodation to the weakness of our people There- fore, be not cast down, nor let my dear mother be cast down. Though the worst should come to the worst, what mattereth it ? The kingdom of Heaven is still ours, unto which all things shall be added. And unto the new Jerusalem, the city of our habitation, the kings do bring the riches of the earth. '"' But we must provide things honest in the sight of all men, that the name of Christ and his Grospel be not blasphemed, and that I may be partaker of your trial, and partaker also of your joy in rising above it, we, Isabella and I, must be allowed

to contribute our part I shall now also see to a

fourth edition of the Orations, the third having been nearly sold off some months ago. . . . Isabella and I feel much for you and our dear mother, but we are not amazed or con- founded as if some strange thing had befallen you . . ."

This letter is concluded by Mrs, Irving, with tlie touching argument of a woman and a mother. " If we have been able to say, ' The will of the Lord be done,' when He saw meet to take from us those who were far more dear than all worldly goods," writes little Ed- ward's mother, her heart still bleeding from that wound, " I trust you will be enabled to take well the spoihng of your goods." It was thus they comforted each other, who had mourned together.

Early in 1827, the church in Eegent Square — over the building of which Irving and his congregation had watched so lovingly, and which was to deliver them from the crowds and commotion of the little Caledonian chapel — was at last completed. At the time of its erec- tion, it was considered the handsomest church not be- longing to the Establishment (for the Presbyterians of that day, proud of their National Church, and connection with the Scotch Establishment, would have done an}- thing sooner than allow themselves to be called Dissen-

400 orKXlNc; OF XATIOXAL SCOTCH CIIURCir.

tei-s) ill L(^iuloii. One thousand sittings were taken at tlio time of its opening; ;iik1 tlic excellent William Hamil- ton writes, in all the pious joy of a church ollicial, about the "gratifying success " which had attended the open- ing services, at M-liich Dr. C'liiihiici's olliciated. "Dr. Chalmers." writes ]\lr. I hiinillon, sending the ne\vs[)a[)ers wlucli contained an account of these services, alone; with Ins own jo}'ful description, to his future wife, the sister- in-law of Irving, in Kirkcaldy manse, "was so highly pleased with his stay among us, that he spontaneously ofTered to pay us an annual visit. He has complied Avitli our request to pubhsh the sermon he preached at the opening, which contained a powerfid defence of our excellent pastor, and a most eloquent eulogium on his extraordinary talents, })iety, and worth, which was not a little gratifying to the congregation, but gall and worm- wood to some of his enemies who were present." On the evening of the same Sunday, Dr. Gordon of Edinburgh, another old and tried friend of Irving, preached; and with the highest auguries of increase and prosperity — relieved from the inconveniences of popularity which they had felt so deeply, and able at last to appear, not in relays, but as a body together, — the congregation into which the fifty worshippers of Ilatton Garden had grown entered into quiet possessicju of tlie handsome church for which they had laboured and longed. " Both Dr. Gordon and Dr. Chalmers," says the affectionate witness we have just quoted, " love our friend, and bore a noble testimony to him in public and in private wherever they went. . . . Our session now consists of seven elders and seven deacons — all, I believe, sincerely de- voted to the good cause; and 1 am liajjpy to say that

UNA2^7MITY OF THE CONGKEGATION. 401

the most perfect harmony prevails amongst us, and indeed throughout the congregation."

Such were the domestic circumstances of the com- munity over which Irving presided. Inspired by his fervid teaching, they beheved themselves estabhshed there to carry out " a work which is hkely to be the . means, in God's hand, of greatly advancing the spiritual interests of our countrymen in the metropolis." By this time already many of the sermons which were afterwards found out to be heretical, had been preached and Hstened to with equal unconsciousness of any divergence from the orthodox faith ; and the una- nimity of regard and admiration with which the people clung to their leader had been as yet rather strengthened than diminished by anything that had been alleged against him. The long services in which he would not be curtailed ; his perpetual determination, notwithstand- ing the overflowing of human kindness in his heart, to be among them the priest, the pastor, the spiritual guide, and not the companion and friend alone ; the high position he assumed, and uncompromising distinctness of his attacks upon all the special forms of evil, had neither lessened the confidence nor weakened the affection of his adherents. People who steadily, and not capriciously according to the dictates of fashion, resorted to the teaching of a man who kept them nearly three hours at a stretch, Sunday after Sunday, plunged in the deepest questions of rehgion — sometimes maintained the strain of an argument which ascended into the secret places of the Trinity, unfathomable mystery — sometimes stirred with a2:)peals and ex- hortations which excited the multitude into all but

VOL. I. D D

402 lu:. ( iialmi:kss diary.

open outcry, must indeed liavc been under tlie sw.ay of ti fascination seldom exercised, and of wliicli few men know tlic secret. The tliousand souls, who at its earliest conuuencement declared their allegiance to the preacher in his new church, had sulTered this test of their sin- cerity ; and were unanimous, harmonious, objecting neither to his long sermons, nor to liis orthodoxy. But other sentiments had begun to dawn upon other men.

Dr. Chalmers, always doubtful, puzzled, but admir- ing, never knowing w^iat to make of this genius, wliich he could not choose but acknowledge, yet which was so different from his own, and in some respects so in- comprehensible to it — Dr. Chahners writes from Lon- don to his wife, Avitli the same half-wondering, half- comprehending regard which was visible in almost everything he said of Irving, as follow^s : —

" IfkMay. — ]Mr. Irving made his appearance and took me to his house, where I drank tea. ]\Ir. Miller and Mr. ]\Iac- lean, Scottish ministers of the London Presbytery, were there. Their talk is very much of meetings and speeches. Irving, though, is very impressive, and I do like the force and rich- ness of his conversation Studied about two hours, and

then proceeded to take a walk with James.* We had just gone out, when we met Mr. Irving. He begged of James the privilege of two or three hours in his house, to study a sermon. I was vastly tickled with this new instance of the inroads of Scotsmen ; however, James could not help himself, and was obliged to consent. We were going back to a family dinner, and I could see the alarm that was felt on the return of the

• A brother of Dr. Chalmers, noted, as all the readers of his biography will remember, for a certain kind churlishness, and Bpecial terror of the cncroachmonts of Scotch visitors, and the uni- versal entertainment and introductory letters required by them.

IRVING KEEPS CHALMEES WAITING. 403

great Mr. Irving, who was very easily persuaded to join us at dinner, and the study was all put to flight. There was not a single sentence of study all the time ; and notwithstanding Mrs. C 's alarm about the shabbiness of the dinner, every- thing went on most delightfully. Irving intermingled the serious and the gay, took a good, hearty repast, and really charmed even James himself, so that I was very glad of the inroad that had been made upon him. Thursday. — Irving and I went to Bedford Square. Mr. and Mrs. Montagu took us out in their carriage to Highgate, where we spent three hours with the great Coleridge. His conversation flowed in a mighty un- remitting stream. You know that Irving sits at his feet, and drinks in the inspiration of every syllable that falls from him. There is a secret and, to me, unintelligible communion of spirit between them, on the ground of a certain German mysticism, and transcendental lake poetry which I am not yet up to. Friday. — Mr. Irving conducted the preliminary services in the National Church. There was a prodigious want of tact in the length of his prayers — forty minutes; and altogether it was an hour and a half from the commencement of the service ere I began. . . . The dinner took place at five o'clock. JNIany speeches. Irving certainly errs in the outrunning of sympathy."

The length of this prehminary service seems to have troubled the great Scotch preacher mightily. He ap- pears to have felt, with true professional disgust, the wearing out of that audience which properly belonged not to Irving, but to himself. Long after, he recurs to the same incident in a conversation with Mr. J. J. Gurney. " I undertook to open Irving's new church in London," says the discontented divine. " The congre- gation, in their eagerness to obtain seats, had ah-eady been assembled three hours. Living said he would assist me by reading a chapter for me. He chose the longest in the Bible, and went on for an hour and a half. On another occasion he offered me the same aid, adding,

» D 2

404 Dli. C11AL.M1:K8 fc^llAKHS HIS iii:ai).

' I rail 1)0 short.' I said, 'llow long will it take you?' 'Only an hour and forty niiiuitcs.' "

Such an iui^hscrution ^\■a.s likely to go to the heart of the waiting preacher. Dr. Chalmers never seems to h a vi^ forgotten tliat inipaticMit int(>rval, during which he had to sh by silent, and see his friend take the bloom of expectation ofl' tlie audience, which had come not to hear Irving, but Chalmers. In all his after re- marks, a reminiscence of his own sore experience recui-s. On the following Saturday, he records that " Mr. Gordon informed me that yesternight, ]\Ir. Irvhig preached on his })rophecies at Hackney cliaj)el fur two hours and a half ; and though very powerful, yet the people Avere di'()p])ing away. I really fear lest his prophecies, and the excessive lengtJi and weariness of his services, may unship liim altogether, and I mean to ■write to him seriously on the subject."

This was the impression of a stranger, unaware of the long training by which Irving had accustomed his peo- ple to these prolonged addresses ; and also of an elder, and — .so far as experience went — superio]- in the Church, who was slow to forget that " the great Mr. Irving " had once been his own nameless assistant and subordinate. With dissatisfied and doubtfnl eyes, the celebrated Scotch preacher contemplated the apparently brilliant and en- couraging position of his friend. The practicable, which did not trouble Ir\ing, was strongly present in the mind of Chalmers. He, with both feet planted steadily on the common soil, cast a troubled eye upon the soaring spirit which scorned the common restraints of possi- bility. He shakes his head as lie tells his wife of the mingled fascination and im])rudence visible to himself

IMPORTANT CRISIS. 405

in this incomprehensible man. Chalmers, too, was capable of following one idea with the most absorbing enthusiasm ; but his ideas were those of statesmanship, practicable and to be worked out ; and with the eyes of a wisdom which, if not worldly, was at least substantial, and fully aware of all the restrictions of humanity, he looked on doubtfully at a man who calculated no pos- sibihties, and who estimated the capacities of human natm^e, not fi^om among the levels of ordmary life, but from the mountain top of his own elevated and impassioned spirit. Dr. Chalmers shook his head. What else coidd a man of reason and ordinary pru- dence do ? Nothing could be certainly predicated of such a career as that which, under changed circum- stances, made now a new, and to aU appearance, pros- perous beginning. Triumph or nun might be beyond ; scarcely the steady progress and congregational ad- vancement, which is the only advancement in life open to the hopes of an orthodox Scotch minister. Such a progress, happy but uneveutfid — a yearly roU of addi- tional members, perhaps a hundred pounds or so of additional income, a recognised place on the platfonn of Exeter HaU — was not a natural vaticination of the future course of Edward Irving ; and over anything else, what could Chalmers — what could any other sober- minded, clerical spectator do otherwise than shake his head ? Something was like to come of it too far out of the ordinary coiuse to yield ordhiary comfort or happiness ; and I don't doubt that Chalmers returned to Scotland alarmed and uneasy, comprehenduig as httle what would be the end, as he entered into the thoughts and emotions which were brino-ino- that end about.

406 " F;VSIIIO.\ Wi:XT IIKR IDLE WAY."

And, iiulced, it was a crisis of no small importance. U]) to tliis tinit\ tlic ])ronclicr and liis congregation luid been in exeeplional circumstances. They had never been able to make experiment of that calm con- gregational existence. Crowded out of the httle Cale- donian chapel for years, their hopes had gone forward to that new climxli wliich was to be a khid of national centre in the noisy capital, and the completion of which Avas to open the way to a great and extended mission. It was only natural that all the projects and hopes both of leader and people should fix upon that place as the scene of the result and issue to their great labours. Doubtless they did so unawares. For years the preacher had been used to see round him an unusual exceptional crowd, drawn out of all regions, necessarily unsteady and lluctuatino; — a crowd which he could charm and thrill and overawe for the moment, but out of which few results could be visible. Now was the time to test "vvhat had been done in that flatterinix overflow of popular admiration. If, as Carlyle says, " hopes of a new moral reformation " had fired the preacher's heart — if, with the flattered expectation of a popular idol he was watching to see the " sons of Mammon, and high sons of Behal and Beelzebub become sons of God, and the gumflowers of Almack's to be made hving roses in a new Eden " — now was the time to test that dream. The tiny chapel where celebrities could not be over- looked, and where the crowd never could lessen — first chapter and preparatory stage of the history — was now left in the quiet of the past; and with full space to col- lect and receive all who sought him, and the highest expectations and hopes of now seeing the fruits of his

IRVING'S OWN EVIDENCE ON THE SUBJECT. 407

labour, Irving entered that new temple, whence a double blessing was to descend upon his people's prayers. If fashion had crazed him with her mo- mentary adulation, here was the critical point at which fashion and he parted ; the beginning of a disenchant- ment which, next to personal betrayal, is perhaps the hardest experience in the world.

This has been accepted by many — and asserted by one who knew him thoroughly, and from whose judg- ment I know not how to presume to differ — as the secret cause of all the darker shadows and perplexing singu- larities of his later life. I am as little able to cope with Mr. Carlyle in philosophic insight as I am in personal knowledge ; I can only take my appeal to Irving himself in the singular journal which has already been given. If that record shows any trace of a man whose heart has been caught in the meshes of the social enchantress ; if he looks to have Circe's cup in his hand as he goes pondering through those streets of Bloomsbury and PentonviUe, or with anxious care and dehcacy visits the doubtful believer in Fleet Market, and comforts the sorrowfid souls who seek his kindness in the nameless lanes of the city, I am willing to allow that this was the influence that set his mind astray. But if the readers of this history are as unable as myself to perceive any trace of that intoxication — an intoxication too well known in all its symptoms, and too often seen to be recognised with difficulty — another clue may be reasonably required for this mystery. I can find no evidence whatever, except in what he him- self says in the dedication of his Sermons to Mr. Basil Montagu, of even a tendency on Irving's part to be

408 KEALITV.

carried away by tliat brilliant social stream. lie speaks' of himself there as "being tempted to go forth, in the simplicity of my heart, into those high and noble circles of society ^vhich were then open to me, and which must either have engulfed me by their enormous attrac- tions, or else repelled my simple affections, shattered and befooled, to become the mockery and contempt of eveiy envious and disappointed railer." But that was at the earliest period of his London experience. The master of the Pentouville household, with all its quaint and simple economics, with its domestic services, fre- quented not by the great, and its stream of homely guests — the faithful priest, exercising all the human courtesies and Christian tendernesses of his nature to win a sullen, London errand-boy, or convince a sceptic of the humblest ranks — Avho is not to be moved by the representatioiLs even of his anxious elders to shorten his services by half-an-hour, or adapt himself to the necessities of his popularity, — is, on his own evidence, the most unlike a man carried away and crazed by the worsliip of Fashion that can be conceived. K he had been such a man, here was the sickening moment when the sjrren visibly went her way. The crowd that fluctuated in the tiny aisles of the Caledonian chapel, and presented the preacher with a wonderful, suggestive, moving panorama of the great world without, which he addressed through these thronged and ever- changing faces, settled into steady identity in Kegent Square. The throng ceased in that spacious interior. Those mists of mfmitude cleared off from the per- manent horizon — " Fashion went her idle way," Mr. Carlyle says : indisputably the preacher must have

CESSATION OF THE CROWD. 409

learned that he was no longer addressing the world, the nation, the great capital of the world, but a certain clearly definable number of its population — a congrega- tion, in short, and not an age.

This great change happened to Irving at the moment when he had- apparently arrived at the beginning of his harvest-time. The office-bearers of his church found the fruit they sought in the roll of seat- holders and communicants, the visible increase which had promoted them from the Caledonian chapel to the National Scotch church. But to the preacher the efiect must have been wonderfully different — as different as reahty always is from expectation. At the end of that uncertain, brilHant probation, which seemed to promise results the most glorious, he woke and found himself at the head of a large congregation. It was all his friends could have wished for hun — the highest amount of external success which his Chiurch acknowledg;ed. But it was an indifferent cHmax to the lofty hopes of the great evangelist. Yet this great shock and crisis seems to have been encountered and got through unconsciously, with no such effects as might have been anticipated. There is, indeed, no evidence that Irving was himself aware when he passed out of that wdde horizon of hope and possibihty, into the dis- tinct field laid out for him under the smoky canopy of London sky. Yet here is the evident point when that transition happened. The wide popular current ebbed away from the contracted ways of Hatton Garden, and subsided into a recos^nisable congregation in Kegent Square. " The church was always well filled, but no longer crowded," says the calm ofiicial retrospect of the

410 " THE PLATE."

present community belonging to tliat church. Fashion then and tliere took lier departure ; l)ut so far from phniging into Avikl attempts to re-attract her fickle de- votion, the preacher seems to have gone on imconscious, %vithout even being aware of what had happened to liim. Years intervened, and the fervent beginnings of thought — then only appearing in a firmament where the liidden lights came out one by one, all unforeseen by the eager gazer till they startled him with sudden illu- minations— came to developments never unaccordant with the nature that produced them, tliough mysterious and often sad enoucjh to the calm looker-on, before the world wliich had subsided out of its frenzy of admira- tion was tempted to retm-n into a frenzy of curiosity and wonder. In the meantime, living's sober-minded Scottish friends left hun in his new beginning with alanns and uneasy forebodings, not that he would peril his understanding in attempts to retain his popularity, but that the unmanageable sublimation and prophet- spirit of the man, inaccessible as tliey felt it to all such motives, would ruin his popularity altogether.

Some years before two silver salvers had been pre- sented to Ir\dng by the grateful office-bearers of the Scotch church in Liverpool. When the National Scotch church was opened, he presented them, with an im- pulse of natural munificence, for the service of the house of God. Ever}d3ody at all acquainted with the usages of the Church of Scotland must be aw^are of the collection made weekly at the doors of every place of worship — a collection entirely voluntary, yet so thorough "an institution," that, to an old-fashioned Scotsman, the fact of passing " the plate " without

IRVING's offering. 411

depositing a coin in it, would be something like a petty crime. The fund thus collected is entitled the Session Eund, and is in parish churches appropriated to the relief of the poor ; and it was from this fund alone that Chalmers, in the day of his reign in Glasgow, provided for the poor of his parish, and abohshed pauper- ism in St. John's. Irving designed his silver salvers for the reception of this weekly bounty, and presented them to the church on the day of its opening, engraven with the following inscription : —

" These two plates I send to the National Scotch church, London, on this the 11th of May, 1827, the day of its opening, that they may stand on each side of the door to receive the offerings for the Poor, and all other gifts of the congregation of the Lord in all time coming while He permits. And if at any time, which Grod forbid, the fountain of the people's charity should be dried up, and the Poor of the Lord's house be in want of bread, or His house itself under any restraint of debt, I appoint that they shall be melted into shillings and sixpences, for the relief of the same, so far as they will go.

"Edward Irving, A.M., V.D.M.

" Minister of the National Scotch Church, London."

Irving's purpose, I am sorry to say, was not carried out. The elders, more prudent and less splendid than he, imagined or discovered that the show of the silver at the door of the church, even though watched over by two of their members, would be too great a tempta- tion to the clever thieves about. Irving's salvers were altogether withdrtiwu from the office of receiving the pennies and sixpences of the congregation, and were placed, where they still remain, among the communion plate of the church in Eegent Square.

412 THE BIBLE SOCIETY.

The only public appearance which he is recorded to have made at this period was at one of the field days of the lonu^ and warm intestine wai* which at that time was raging in the Bible Societ}-, The conduct of that Society generally liad not been agreeable to Irving. Going to the meetings of its London Committee as to the assembling of a body of men engaged in the ser- vice of rehgion, he had been at once chilled and startled by the entirely secular nature of tlieir proceedings. When he remonstrated, he was answered that they were not missionaries, but booksellers ; and this was doubtless one of the points at which the vulgar business, and busthng secularity of the religious world disgusted a man who had nothing whatever to do with a mere connnunity of booksellers, nor could understand why the Chm'ch's interest should be specially claimed for such. His indignation and protest on this point, how- ever, were private ; the controversy was a pubhc one, and liad now lasted for many years. The question was whether or not the Apociypha should be issued along -with the canonical Scriptures as a part of the Bible, wliich the Society professed themselves commissioned to spread throughout the world. The warmest interest had been excited hi reUgious circles generally, and especially in Scotland, by this dispute. North of the Tweed the Apocrypha has always been held in par- ticular abhorrence, and the idea of supporting, by their labours and subscriptions, a Society which sent forth this spurious revelation along with the canon of Scrip- ture, roused the pugnacious kingdom into a blaze of displeasure and resistance. The Society at its head- quarters stood out stoutly ; why, it seems impossible

A MAY MEETING. 41 S

to find out, unless by an instinct of self-assertion and controversy ; and it was not until the whole com- munity was in commotion, and a serious secession threatened, that the London Committee came to its senses. Just at the moment when it was about do so, at the Anniversary Meeting held in May 1827, Irving made his appearance in the place of meeting. His en- trance created a commotion which interrupted the business — the general public, apparently, having by tliis time come to understand that this man could not be regarded with calm impartiahty, but must either be loved or hated. The tumult raised on his appearance naturally aroused the orator to assert himself, and, in- dependently of the timid authority of the chair, to make himself heard. It is difficult, in the vague account given, to find out what "motion" it was that Irving supported, or what was accomphshed by the forgotten assembly, whose cheers and hisses would have long ago passed into obhvion, but for the presence of that unusual champion. With a straightforward man- fulness and simphcity, which look quaint and out of place upon such a platform, and which must have been wonderfuUy confusing to the minds of the Society, he advises them to " acknowledge that they are exceedingly sorry." And when this suggestion is received with mingled liisses and applause, he indignantly asks, "Is there any member of the Church of England — is there any consistent Protestant Dissenter — who would think it at ah degrading to him to acknowledge himself in error when he felt he was so, and when so domg would heal ' the wounds which had been inilicted thereby, and so unite a whole Christian Church to the Society ? Would

414 A MOMHNT OF DErRESSION.

it be at all degrading to the Committee to say that it was Sony that that whieh is not tlie Word of God liad been (say uinvittingly, or unwarily, I mind not the word) mixed up and circulated witli the ]5ook of God ? Let them, I say, record that which they have individually expressed by word of mouth — that that which is not the Bread of Life has been sent out to the world as the Bread of Life, and that they are sorry!" The answer which the Bible Society or its Committee gave to this appeal is not recorded. But Irving triumphantly over- came the opposition against his own appearance, and retired from the meeting, which he did immediately after his speech, amid universal applause.

In the meantime, his private family stoiy went on, amid the clouds which, having once descended, so often continue to overshadow the early history of a household. In the same spring, another infant, a short-lived little Mary, came to a house saddened by the long and serious illness of the mother. In the depression occasioned by this interruption of domestic comfort, Irving writes, in a mood certainly not habitual, but from which such a temperament as his can never be severed :

" For myself, I feel the burden of sin so heavily, and the unprofitableness of this vexed life, that I long to be delivered from it, and would gladly depart when the Lord may please : yet, while He pleaseth, I am glad to remain for His Church's sake. "^Tiat I feel for myself, I feel for my dear wife, whom I love as myself. And at present my rejoicing is, that she is able to praise Him in the furnace of trial and the fire of affliction."

In another and Ijrighter mood, however, he writes the following letter, fidl of projects, to Dr. Martin : —

PROJECTS FOR THE FUTURE. 415

" 8tli June, 1827. " ]\Iy dear Father, — We have all great reason of thankful- ness to the Giver of all gifts, and the Fountain of all strength, for the recovery of Isabella and the children, whose health is now so far re-established, as that Dr. Darling recommends her going to the country in a few days. I am now fairly entered upon my duties in the new church, and, by the grace of Grod, have begun with a more severe self-devotion to secret study and meditation. In the morning I propose to expound the whole Epistle to the Ephesians, in order to clear out anew some of the wells of salvation which have been choked up, at least in these parts, and to see if there be not even deeper springs than the Reformers reached. In the evening I am to discourse upon the sixth vial, which I propose as a sequel to my discourses upon Babylon and Infidelity Foi'edoomed, and which I intend to print in the fall of the year. I think that, by Grod's blessing, I can throw a new and steady light upon the present face of Christendom and the world. Besides this, I have a little tribute of friendship to pay to Basil jNIontagu .... and an aphoristic history of the Church of Scotland, from the primitive times to this time, for an introduction to a work containing the republication of our authorised books at the Eeformation. It is for man to design, but God to per- mit and to enable ; yet, if He spare me, I hope to do His Church some service. I ask your prayers, and entreat solici- tously for them ; although I know that we must have the spirit of prayer in ourselves and for ourselves. Farewell ; may the Lord make the going down of your age more brilliant than the beginning of it, and enrich you all with His divine grace, and enlighten you with His countenance. Amen.

" Your affectionate son, "Edward Irving."

The little Mary died in December of tlie same year. Thousrli the second blow does not seem to have struck like the first, it deepened the channel of those personal tears first wrung from Irving's eyes by the death of his httle Edward ; and quickened into pathetic adoration his thankfulness for the almost revelation, as he

41G LKCTURKS OX BAPTISM.

believed it, -svliicli luul tlirown liglit upon that doctrine of Baptism, lieneefortli to be held as one of the brightest, comforting inspirations of his life. The volume of Lectures on Baptism, in whicli he set before the Church the views which had been so consolatory to liis own heart, was prefiiced by the following touching dedication :

" To Isabella Irving, my wife, and the mother of my two

departed children.

"]\Iy honoured and beloved Wife, — I believe in my heart that the doctrine of the holy Sacraments, which is contained in these two Httle volumes, was made known to my mind, first of all, for the purpose of preparing us for the loss of our eldest hoy ; because on that very week you went with him to Scotland, whence he never returned, my mind was directed to meditate and preach these discourses upon the standing of the baptized in the Church, which form the sixth and seventh of the Homilies on Baptism. I believe it also, be- cause, long before our Httle Edward was stricken by the hand of God in Scotland, I was led to open these views to you in letters, which, by God's grace, were made efficacious to con- vince your mind. I believe it, furthermore, because the thought contained in these homilies remained in my mind Uke an unsprung seed, until it was watered by the common tears we shed over our dying INIary. From that time forth I felt that the truth concerning baptism, which had been re- vealed for oiu- special consolation, was not for that end given, nor for that end to be retained ; and therefore I resolved, at every risk, to open to all the fathers and mothers of the Christian Church the thoughts which had ministered to us so much consolation.

" I desire most gratefully to acknowledge my obHgations to the fathers of the Scottish Church, whose Confession of Faith concerning the Sacraments, and especially the sentence which I have placed as the motto * of this book, were, under

• The motto of the book is as follows : — " We utterly condemn the vanity of those who afiirm sacraments to be nothing but naked and bare signs." — Confession of Scotch Reformers.

SEED-TIME. 417

God, made instrumental in opening to me the whole truth of Holy Scripture concerning- Baptism and the Lord's Supper ; of which having been convinced, by God's blessing upon these words of my fathers in the Church, upon consulting the venerable companion of my early studies, Eichard Hooker, I found such a masterly treatise upon the whole subject of the Sacraments, that I scrupled not to rank as one of his disciples, and to prefer his exposition infinitely to my own : yet to both to prefer that sentence of our own Confession which I have placed as the motto of my book. For this reason it is that I have reprinted those parts of Hooker's treatise which concern the doctrine of the Sacraments.

" And now, my dear wife, as we have been sorely tried of the Lord, by the removal of two such sweet children, let us be full of prayers and fellow-feeling for those who are in like manner tried ; and, above all, be diligent in waiting upon those children of Christian Baptism, whom Christ hath committed to my charge as a bishop and shepherd of His flock ; unto all whom, even as many as by my hands have been admitted into His Church, I do now bestow my fatherly benediction in the Lord. May the Lord make you the mother of many children to glorify His name for ever and ever ! This is the prayer of your loving hiLsbacd,

" Edward Irving."

The volumes thus inscribed were not published till 1828 ; but they belong to this period of much quiet, but many emotions, which lay between the death of his two children. He laboured much, and pondered more, during these two years. They were the seed-time of a great and melancholy harvest ; and, containing, as they did, the first germs of those convictions which he after- wards carried so far, and the adjuncts of which carried him stiU farther, they are fiiU of interest in the history of his hfe. The Albury coViference, which drew him into the close and exciting intercourse of a brotherhood engrossed with hopes and expectations unshared by the

VOL. I. E E

418 OKDIXATIOX CHARGE.

common world, and the opening of liis church, wliich brouirlit liim suddenly out of the brilliant, indefniite world of possibility into a certtiin position, restricted by visible limits of the real, were, perhaps, equally ope- rative hi preparing his mind for all that dawned upon it. ^Miat that was, and how it l)egan to develop, may be better treated m another cha[)ter.

One of the most noble pieces of oratory wliich Ir\ing ever produced, — the Ordination Charge^ which reads like an ode of the most thrilhng and splendid music, — was delivered m this spring at the ordination of the Eev. Hugh Maclean to the charge of the Scots church, Loudon Wall. It is a kind of satisfaction to know that the man so magnificently addressed — in a strain to which perhaps no Scotch minister, and few priests of any description, have ever been called to listen — had soul enough to follow the leader, who charged him to his duty as one hero might another, out into the conflicts and troubles of his after-hfe. Such an appeal must have thrilled to the heart of any man capable of being moved to high emotions. I am not aware that any similar ode has ever embellished the ordination service of any other chmrch than that which Irving here describes as " the most severe and uncom- promising " of aU Christian churches. It is an imrivaUed outburst, full of aU the lyric varieties and harmonies of a great poem, and must have fallen with starthng effect upon the commonplace ears of a quiet company of ministers, no man among whom, except the speaker, had ever distinguished himself, or had a chance of dis- tinguishing himself. Such an addi'ess might have given a chmax to the vocation of a heaven-born preacher ;

VAUGHA^" OF LEICESTEK. 419

but it is only the genius capable of being roused to the utmost by such an appeal that is ever able to offer it ; and the heroic strain called forth no answering wonder. But the young preacher to whom it was addressed threw his humble fortunes, in after days, into the same lot as that of his instructor in the office of the ministry ; and one feels a certain comfort in knowing that the dis- ciple was faithful to the master who had connected his unknown name with an address wliich inferred such noble quahties in him who could receive it.

Later in the year, Irving made a short visit to Leices- ter, to see his hiend Mr. Vaughan, with whom, and with " some other ministers of the Church of England there," we hear that " he had some dehghtful inter- course." " He was expressing to me yesterday," writes William Hamilton, " how much he had been gratified by the harmony which prevailed, and the exact coin- cidence of their views on almost all the important pomts which they discussed." The same ^vritergoes on to tell how Lrvino;: had visited with him the families under his own charge as an elder, and of " the cordial reception they everywhere met with." " IMr. Irving is very happy and successfid on these occasions," writes his admiring friend, " and it is very dehghtful to see such harmony and good feehng amongst the members." Thus, undeterred by the many absorbing subjects of thought which were rising to his mind — by the en- grossing prophetical studies which Dr. Chalmers feared would " imship him altogether " — or even by the impa- tience and almost disgust which often assailed his own spirit in sight of the indifferent and unimpressible world, he pursued all the varieties of his immediate duty,

y3/

420 "THE LIGHT THAT NEVER WAS ON SEA OR SHORE."

canying throiiirli it all a certain elevation and lofty- tone which never interlvi'ed with the lunnan lovinir- kindness in wliich all his brethren had a share. Not- \vithstan(hng his unsparing condemnation of evil and worldliness, Ii'ving had so much of the " celestial light " in his eyes, that he unconsciously assigned to everybody he addressed a standing-ground in some degree equal to his own. The " vision splendid " attended him not (^nly through his morning course, but throughout all liis career. The hght around him never faded into the light of common day. Unawares he addressed the ordinary individuals about him as if they, too, were heroes and princes ; — charged the astounded yet loyal- hearted preacher, wdio could but [)reaeh, and visit, and d(j the other quiet duties of an ordinary minister, to be at once an apostle, a gentleman, and a scholar ; — made ]:)oor, astonished women, in tiny London apartments, feel themselves ladies in the hght of his courtesy ; — and un- consciously elevated every man he talked with into the ideal man he ought to have been. This glmnour in his eyes had other effects, melancholy enough to contem- ])late; but even though it procured him trouble and suffering, I cannot find it in my heart to grudge Irving a gift so noble. The harm that comes by such means is neutrahsed hy a power of conferring dignity and happiness, possessed by very few in the common world.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

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