L;SRARY CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO 04- EDWAKD IKVIM. THE LIFE EDWARD IRVING, MINISTER OF THE NATIONAL SCOTCH CHURCH, LONDON. A illustrate tog (jis 10utttals aito BY MRS OLIPHANT. 1 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." Am P.M. lEtutiott* LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN, 18, GHEAT JIABLBOEOUGH STREET. JOHN CHILD8 AND SON, PUINTERS. TO ALL WHO LOVE THE MEMORY OF EDWARD IRVING: 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 what I feel must appear to many the presumption of undertaking so serious a work as this biography. I need not relate the various unthought-of ways by which I have been led to undertake it, which are my apology to myself rather than to the public ; but I may say that, in a matter so complicated and delicate, it appeared to me a kind of safeguard that the writer of Edward Irving's Life should be a person without 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 sor- row ; and I have found this life so much more lofty, pure, and true than my imagination, that the picture, unfolding under my hands, has often made me pause to think how such a painter as the Blessed Angelico took the attitude of devotion at his labour, and painted such saints on his knees. The large extracts which, by the kindness of his surviving children, 1 have been permitted to make from Irviug's letters, will show the readers of this book, better than any description, what manner of man he was ; and I feel assured that to be able thus to illustrate the facts of his history by his own exposition of Vlll PREFACE. its heart and purpose, is to do him greater justice than could be hoped for from any other means of interpretation. My thanks are due, first and above all, to Professor Martin Irving, of Melbourne, and to his sister, Mrs S. E. Gardiner, London, who have kindly permitted me the use of their father's letters ; to the Eev. James Brodie and Mrs Brodie, of Moni- mail, and Miss Martin, Edinburgh ; to J. Fergusson, Esq., and W. Dickson, Esq., Glasgow, nephews of Irving ; the Eev. Dr Grierson, of Errol ; Patrick Sheriff, Esq., of Haddington ; Mrs Carlyle, Chelsea ; the Eev. Dr Hanna ; M. N. Mac- donald Hume, Esq. ; James Bridges, Esq. ; Eev. D. Ker, Edin- burgh ; Eev. J. M. Campbell, late of Eow ; J. Hatley Frere, Esq., London ; Eev. A. J. Scott, of Manchester ; Dr G. M. Scott, Hampstead; Eev. E. H. Story, of Eosneath; and other friends of Irving, some of them now beyond the reach of earth- ly thanks among whom I may mention the late Henry Drum- mond, Esq., of Albury, and Mrs "Wm. Hamilton who have kindly placed letters and other memoranda at my disposal, or given me the benefit of their personal recollections. The present Edition has been carefully revised, and an Index added with the view of giving further completeness to the work. M. O. W. OLIPHANT. CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. HIS PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD . . . . 1 II. HIS COLLEGE LIFE 15 III. HADDINGTON 21 IV. KIRKCALDY . . 28 V. AFLOAT ON THE WORLD 41 VI. GLASGOW . . . . 51 VII. LONDON, 1822 76 VIII. 1823 83 IX. 1824 94 X. 1825 * . . 104 XI. JOURNAL 115 XII. 1826, 1827 106 XIII. 1828 219 XIV. 1829 253 xv. 1830 274 XVI. 1831 808 XVII. 1832 .. 341 XVIII. 1833 385 XIX. 1834 THE END 404 INDEX .. .. 429 EDWARD IRVING, CHAPTEE I. HIS PABENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD. IN the autumn of the eventful year 1792, at the most singular crisis of the world's history which has arisen in modern times, when France was going mad in her revolu- tion, and the other nations of Christendom 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 little Scotch town of Annan, Edward Irving, the story of whose life is to be told in the following pages, was born. He was the son of Gavin Irving, of a long-established local kindred, well known, but undis- tinguished, who followed the humble occupation of a tanner in Annan, and of Mary Lowther, the handsome and high- spirited 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 Prench 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 quaint inscription, which is one of the wonders of the melancholy and crowded church- yard, or rather burying-ground ; for the present church of the town has left the graves behind. The same dismal enclosure, with its nameless mounds, rising mysterious through the rugged grass, proclaims the name of Irving on every side in many lines of 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 characterizes as " Uncle Tristram of Dornoch, the wilful," seems to have been one of the acknowledged characters of that 2 THE IRVINGS AND LOWTHERS. characteristic country. He lived and died a bachelor, saving, litigious, and eccentric ; and, determined to enjoy in his lifetime that fame which is posthumous to most men, he erected his own tombstone in D.ornoch churchyard, recording on it the most memorable of his achievements. The greatest of these were, winning a lawsuit in which he 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 his autobiographical essay while he lived ; for his respectable heirs 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 grazier 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 Liverpool, or the eastern wastes of London. The other guests in the great sanded kitchen, where they were all assembled, amused themselves 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 comprehend the idea of qxiarrelling 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 unfortunate 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 Irviug's wife was of this stout and primitive race. Her activity and cheer- ful, high-spirited comeliness 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 families on both sides were of competent substance and reputation, and rich in individual character. No wealth, to speak of, existed among them : a little patriarchal founda- tion of land and cattle, from which the eldest son might per- haps claim a territorial designation if his droves found pros- perous 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 sturdy noviciate to his grazier life ; while the inclinations of another might quite as LIFE IN ANNAN. 3 naturally and suitably lead him to such study of law as may be necessary for a Scotch " writer," or to the favourite and most profoundly respected of all professions, " the ministry," as it is called in Scotland. The Irving and Lowther families embraced both classes, with all the intermediary steps between them ; and Gavin Irving and his wife, in their little house at Annan, stood perhaps about midway between the homely re- finement of the Dumfriesshire manses and the rude profusion of the Annandale farms. Of this marriage eight children were born, three sons, John, Edward, and George, all of whom were educated to learned professions ; and five daughters, all respectably married. All the sisters seem to have left representatives behind them ; but John and George both died unmarried before the death of their distinguished 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 his manhood, a medical officer in the East India Company's service. He was struck down by a jungle fever, a sharp and sudden blow, and his friends had not even the satis- faction of knowing fully the circumstances of his death. But henceforward the day, made thus doubly memorable, was con- secrated by Edward as a solemn fast-day, and spent in the deepest seclusion. Under the date of a letter, written on the 2nd of August some years after, he writes the following touching note : "4 August, Dies natalis atquefatalis incidit" translated underneath by himself " The day of birth and of death draweth nigh." The highest art could not have reared sucli a monument to the early dead. The stormy firmament under which these children were born, and all the commotions going -on in the outside world, scarcely seem to have fluttered the still atmosphere of the little rural town in which they first saw the light. 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 little 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 life to entertain for a moment the idea of forsaking their 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 4 UNIVERSAL FRIENDLINESS. respectability. Politics did not exist as an object of popular interest. The " Magistrates " of Annan elected their sixth part of a member of Parliament 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 has established itself throughout Scot- land. High Puritanism, such as is supposed to form the distin- guishing feature of Scotch communities, was undreamed of in this little town. According to its fashion Annan was warmly hospitable and festive, living in a little round of social gaieties. These gaieties were for the most part tea parties, of a descrip- tion not now known, unless, perhaps, they may still linger in Annan and its companion-towns, parties in which tea was a meal of much serious importance, accompanied by refresh- ments of a more substantial kind, and followed by a sober de- gree of joviality. The families who thus amused themselves grew up in the closest relations of neighbourship ; they sent off sons into the world to gain name and fame beyond the highest dreams of the countryside, yet to be fondly claimed on coming back with an old affection closer than fame, as still the well-known John or Edward of all their contemporaries in Annan. Nothing could contrast more strangely with the idea which, looking back, we instinctively form of the state of mat- ters at that stirring epoch, than this little neutral-coloured community, dimly penetrated by its weekly newspaper, living a long way off from all startling events, and only waking into knowledge of the great commotions going on around, when other occurrences had obliterated them, and their interest was exhausted. Nor was there any intellectual or spiritual movement among themselves to make up. The Kirk, the great mainspring of Scottish local life, was dormant, as we have said, as indeed the Church was at this era in most places through- out the world. The Annan clergyman was one whom old 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 an oath even when constantly frequenting places where oaths were very usual embellishments of conversation. Religion had little active existence in the place, as may be supposed ; but the de- corum which preserved the minister's Sundays in unimpeachable sobriety kept up throughout the community a certain religious TRADITIONS OF THE DISTRICT. 5 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 reli- gion which existed in Puritan Scotland in these eventful French Revolution 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 dissevered from that bor- der country. Strange difference of a few centuries ! The An- nandale droves went peaceably to the Southern market, past many a naked peelhouse 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 suffi- ciently removed from the period even to be impartial, the dis- trict which held the Stones of Irongray, aud 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 border, till the imagination of a nursery, far removed from the spot, fixed upon him, in defiance of all nearer claims, as the favourite horror, the weird, accursed spirit whom young imaginations, primitive and unsentimental, have no compunctions about deli- vering 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 writer or the doctor, or possibly the minister, all the men who were wiser than their neighbours, might perhaps entertain enlight- ened views touching those Covenanter fanatics whom enlight- ened persons are not supposed to entertain much sympathy with ; but in the tales of the ingleside in the narratives heard by the red glow of the great kitchen fire, or in the farm-house chimney corner enlightened views were out of court, and the home-spun 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 pro- duced upon the ardent, young, inexperienced imagination by those familiar tales of torture endured, and death accomplished, by men bearing the very names of the listeners, and whose agony and triumph have occurred in places of which every nook and corner is familiar to their eyes. The impression made is such O BIRTH OF EDWARD. as nothing after can ever efface or obliterate ; 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 ser- vices of the Scotch Church a charm of imagination more en- trancing and visionary than the highest poetic ritual could com- mand, and of connecting her absolute canons and unpicturesque economy with the highest epic and romance of national faith. Perhaps this warm recollection of her martyrs, and of that fer- vent devotion 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 her- self into decrepitude, than any other influence. 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 community that Edward Irving received his first impressions. He was born on the 4th of August, 1792, in a little house near the old town-cross of Annan. There he was laid in his wooden cradle, to watch with unconscious eyes the light coming in at the low, long window of his mother's narrow bedchamber ; or rather, according to the ingenious hy- pothesis of a medical friend of his own, to lie exercising one eye upon that light, 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 explana- tion of the vulgar obliquity called a squint, which I venture to- recommend to all unprejudiced readers. The stairs which led to Mrs 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 daughters, and to exercise all the hos- pitalities required by that sociable little community. But society in Annan was evidently as indifferent to a mere matter of space as society in a more advanced development. The tanner's yard was opposite the house, across the little street. There he lived in the full exercise of his unsavoury occupation, with his children growing up around him ; a quiet man, chiefly visible as upholding the somewhat severe discipline of the schoolmaster against the less austere virtue of the mother, who, handsome and energetic, was the ruling spirit of the house. It is from Mrs Irving that her family seem to have taken that somewhat solemn and dark type of beauty which,. PEGGY PAUSE S SCHOOL. 7 marred only by tlie intervention of the wooden cradle, be- came famous in the person of her illustrious son. 1 do not say that she realized the ordinary popular notion about the mothers of great men ; but it is apparent that she was great in all that sweet personal health, force, and energy which dis- tinguished her generation of Scottish women ; and which, per- haps, witli the shrewdness and characteristic individuality which accompany it, is of more importance to the race and na- tion than any degree of mere intellect. " Evangelicalism," said Edward Irving, long after, " has spoiled both the minds and bodies of the women of Scotland there are no women now like my mother." The devotedest evangelical believer might forgive the son for that fond and filial saying. It is clear that no conventional manner 'of speech, thought, or bar- rier of ecclesiastical proprieties unknown to nature, had limited the mother of those eight Irvings, whom she brought up ac- cordingly in all the freedom of a life almost rural, yet amid all the 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 familiar knowledge and affection of " all the town " a fact which may be quaintly 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" EdAvard" when a stranger names his name. The first appearance which Edward Irving made out of this house with its wooden cradle, was at a little school, preparatory to more serious education, kept by " Peggy Paine," a relation of the unfortunate tailor-sceptic who in those days was in un- easy 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 faithful to his teaching all her life, is now, I suppose, the sole representative in Annan of the reli- gious body commonly called by his name, remembers in those old vernal clays 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 little school. This was the be- ginning of a long friendship, as singular as it is touching, and which may here be followed 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 struggling in her own sphere through the troubles of that stormier world, her old school-fellow stretched out his cordial hand to her, without O HANNAH DOUGLAS. a moment's shrinking from the work in which her hand was engaged. It was natural that all the world about her should soon know of that friendship. 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 themselves of the inter- cession of their maid, and sent her with their invitation to back it by her 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 anything romantic or remarkable came of the introduction so accom- plished, as perhaps ought to have happened to make the inci- dent poetically complete ; but I cannot help regarding it as one of the pleasantest 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 representative of the " Catholic Apostolic Church " in the place which gave its most distinguished member birth. The next stage of Edward's education was greatly in ad- vance of Peggy Paine. Schoolmasters must have been either a more remarkable race of men in those days, or the smaller number of them must have enhanced their claim upon popular appreciation. At least it was no uncommon matter for the parishes and little towns of Scotland to fix with pride upon their schoolmaster as the greatest boast of their district. Such was the case with Mr Adam Hope, \vho taught the young Irvings, and after them a certain Thomas Carlyle from Eccle- fechan, with other not undistinguished men. There were peculiarities in 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 evi- dence of ambition. The female schools in existence were distinctively sewing schools, and did not pretend to do much for the intellect ; so that boys and girls trooped in together, alike to the parish-school and the superior academy, sat toge- ther on the same forms, stood together in the same classes, and not unfrequently 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 literature. Under the severe discipline of those days he sometimes came home OUT-DOOR EDUCATION. 9 from school with his ears " pinched until they bled," to his mother's natural resentment ; but found no solace to his wounded feelings and 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 their 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 solitude of the school-room by having his " piece " hoisted up to him by a cord through a broken window. However, he showed some liking for one branch of education, that of mathematics, in which he after- wards distinguished himself. It was the practice in Annan to devote one day of the week specially to mathematical lessons, an exceptional day, which 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 picked up a knowledge of Latin in the parish school, chiefly 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, where awful pro- fessors did not scorn to acknowledge his attainments. It is probable that Edward did not study under this unauthorized instructor ; and the orthodox prelections of the Academy did not develope the literary inclinations of the athletic boy, who found more engrossing interests in every glen and hillside. For nothing was wanting to the perfection of his education out of doors. There were hills lo climb, a river close at hand, a hospitable and friendly country to be explored; and the miniature port at the Waterfoot, where impetuous Solway 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, walking, rowing, climbing, all sorts of open-air exercises. The main current 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 school-boys delight in ; and when he and his companions went to Doruoch, to his mother's early home, where his uncles still lived, it was Edward's amusement, says a surviving relative, 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 listening air and left no sign ; but there can be no mistake about the leaping of the gates. 10 SOLWAT SANDS. In this early period of his life he is said to have met with an adventure, sufficiently picturesque and important to be recorded. Every one who knows the Solway is aware of the peculiarities of that singular estuary. When the 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 Criffel standing sentinel on this, upon the Scotch sea-border ; but when the tide is out, woeful 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 channel, covered with stake-nets which 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 accomplished, and which might furnish a little variation tipon the ancient romantic 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 his daily and nightly reflow, he does it with a rush and impetuosity worthy of the space he has to fill, and is a dangerous playfellow when " at the turn." One day while they were still children, John and Edward Irving axe said to have strayed down upon these great sands, with the original intention of meeting their uncle, George Lowther, who was expected to cross Solway at the ebb, on his way to Annan. The scene was specially charming in its wild solitude and free- dom. In that wilderness of sand and shingle, with its gleam- ing salt-water pools clear as so many mirrors, full of curious creatures still unknown to drawing-room science, but not to school-boy observation, the boys presently forgot all about their immediate errand, and, absorbed in their own amusement, thought neither of their uncle nor of the rising tide. While thus occupied, 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 address a word to them, or even per- ceiving who they were. When they had 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 found them. The startled children, perceiving the danger they had escaped, saw the tawny waves pursuing almost to where- EARLY CHARACTERISTICS. 11 they stood, and the sands on which they had been playing buried far under that impetuous sea ; and 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 chapters of individual life in the nineteenth cen- tury need never have been written; and his native seas, less bitter than the sea of life 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 mi- nutest point of time the mists of sixty years, and shows us two urgent childish petitioners, Edward Avith his little brother George, at the door of a neighbour'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. Mrs Irving at last went to the door to speak to her children, probably apprehen- sive 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 linen 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, where, doubtless, she told the tale with such pretended censure as mothers use. Momentary and slight 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 humorous community, where pomp of any kind would have been speedily laughed out of him, could have shown any such singularity. Nor was he ever in the slightest degree of that abstract and self-absorbed fashion of mind which makes a child remarkable. He seems, however, to have sought, and got access to, a certain kind of society which, though perhaps odd enough for a school-boy, was such as all children of lively mind and generous sympathies love. At this early period of his life it was his occasional habit to walk five or six miles to the little village of Ecclefechan, in company with a pilgrim baud of the religious patriarchs of Annan, to attend a little church estab- lished there by one of the earlier bodies of seceders from the- 12 THE "WHIGS. 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 think it very unlikely that any premature love for sermons or discrimination of 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 govern- ment, but only a re-assertion and closer return to the primitive principles of the Kirk itself a fact which popular discrimina- tion in the south of Scotland acknowledged by referring back to the unforgotten "persecuting times" for a name, and enti- tling the seceders " Whigs " a name which they retained until very recent days in those simple-minded districts. The pious people who either originated or gladly took advantage of such humble attempts to recall the Church to herself, and bring back religion 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 who vexed their righteous souls day by day over the shortcomings of the minister and the worldly-mindedness of the people ; and proved their covenant- ing lineage by piety of an heroic, austere pitch beyond the level of their neighbours. Young Edward Irving had already made his way, as most imaginative children manage to do, into the confidence of the old people who knew and were not reluctant to tell the epics of their native districts ; 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 all-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 fireside, where the fragrant peat threw its crimson glow through the apartment, and the old man or the old woman, in the leisure of their age, sat in the great high-backed chair with its checked linen 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, uubonneted, with his black locks ruffling in the wind and his cap in his hand, amid the little band of patriarchs, through hedgerows fragrant with every succession of blossom, to where the low grey hills closed in around that little hamlet of Ecclefechan, Ecclesia Fechani, for- ECCLEFECHAX. 13 gotten shrine of some immemorial Celtic saint ; a scene not grandly picturesque, but full of a sweet pastoral freedom and solitude ; the hills rising grey against the sky, with slopes of springy turf where the sheep pastured, and shepherds of an antique type pondered the ways of God with men : the road crossed at many a point, and sometimes accompanied, by tiny brooklets, too small to claim a separate name, tinkling unseen among the grass and underwood, to join some bigger but still tiny tributary of the Annan, streams which had no pretensions to be rivers, but were only "'waters" like Annan Water itself. To me this country gleams with a perpetual youth ; the hills rise clear and wistful through the sharp air, this with its Roman camp indented on its side, that with its melancholy Eepentance Tower standing out upon the height ; the moor brightens forth as one approaches into sweet brakes of heather and golden clumps of gorse ; the burns sing in a never-failing liquid cheer- fulness through all their invisible courses ; freedom, breadth, sileuce, touched with all those delicious noises : the quiet ham- lets and cottages breathing forth that aromatic betrayal of all their warm turf fires. Place in this landscape that grave group upon the way, bending their steps to the rude meeting-house in which their austere worship was to be celebrated, holding dis- course as they approached upon subjects not so much of re- ligious feeling as of high metaphysical theology ; with the boy among them, curiously attracted by their talk, timing his elastic footsteps to their heavy tread, making his unconscious com- ments, a wonderful impersonation of perennial youth and genius, half leading, half following, 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 picture of old Scotland as it was in its most characteristic districts and individual phase. This seems the only foundation from which precocious seriousness can be inferred, and it is an important and inter- esting feature of his boyhood. The Whig elders no doubt unconsciously prepared the germs of that old-world stateliness of speech and dignity of manner which afterwards distinguished their pupil ; and they, and the traditions to which they had served themselves heirs, made all the higher element and poetry of life which was to be found in Annan. Their in- fluence, however, did not withdraw him from the society of his fellows. The social instinct was at all times too strong in him to be prevented 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 ; 14 STRANGE DISPERSION. and another boyish friendship, formed with Hugh Clapperton, the African traveller, who was, like himself, a native of Annan, concluded only with the death of that intrepid explorer. Young Clapperton lived in an adjoining house which was the property of Gavin Irving, and the same " yard " with its elm. trees was common to both the families. The boys sometimes shared their meals, and often the fireside corner, where they learned their lessons ; and the adventurous instinct of young Clapperton evidently had no small influence upon the dreams, at least, of his younger companion. Of these three boys, so vigorous, bold, and daring, not one lived to be old ; and their destinies are a singular proof of the wide diffusion of life and energy circling out from one of the most obscure spots in the country. One was to die in India, uucommemorated 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 chimney-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 little foreboding of such tragic elements. But it is scarcely possible to note the boyish conclave without thinking of the singular fortunes and far separation to which they were destined. The friend- ship that commenced thus was renewed when Clapperton 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 little town was at this period in a prosperous con- dition, and thriving well. When war quickened the traffic in provisions, and increased their value, Annan exported corn as well as droves. But the industry of the population was leisurely and old-fashioned, much unlike the modern type. "Many of the poorer folk about were salmon-fishers, but had 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. "When there had been a good " take,' 1 the fishermen lounged about the Cross, or amused themselves in their gardens, till that windfall 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 church in state, and set an official example of well-doing. Tradition does not say whether his son's passion for the "Whigs, HIS COLLEGE LIFE. 15 and expeditions to the Seceders' meeting-house at Ecclefechan, brought any " persecution " upon the boy ; so it is probable those heterodox preachings were attended only in summer evenings, and on special 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 Holy wood, an uncle of Mrs Irving' s, being a notable person among his brethren ; but, further than the familiarity which this gave with the surrounding country, no special traces of the advantages of such intercourse exist. The loftier aspect of religion was in the Whig cottages, and not in those cosy manses to which Dr Carlyle, of Inveresk, has lately in- troduced all readers. CHAPTEE II. HIS COLLEGE LIFE. AT thirteen Irving began his studies at the Edinburgh University: such was, and is still, to a great extent, the custom of Scotch universities, a habit which, like every other edu- cational habit in Scotland, promotes the diffusion of a little learning, and all 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 ap- plicants 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 life, and used with, natural pride, as setting forth what his beloved Church required of her neophytes. " In respect to the ministers," he says, " this is required of them, that they should have studied for four years in a university all the branches of a classical and philosophical education ; and either taken the rank in literature 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, permitted to enter upon the study of 16 PROLONGED PROBATION OF SCOTCH MINISTERS. theology, of which the professors are ordained ministers of the Church, chosen to their office. Under separate professors they study theology, Hebrew, and ecclesiastical history, for four years, attending from four to six months in each year. Thus eight years are consumed in study." This is, perhaps, the only excuse which can be made for sending boys, still little more than children, into what 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 had still to follow before he could enter upon his vocation ; an apparent and comprehensible reason, if not excuse, for a custom which, according to 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 medical profession, came to Edinburgh under the charge of some relatives of their Annan school-fellow, Hugh Clapperton ; and the two lads were deposited in a lofty chamber in the 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 per- sonal shelter to offer : then, as now, the Alma Mater was a mere abstract mass of class-rooms, museums, and libraries, and the youths or boys who sought instruction there were left in absolute freedom to their own devices. Perhaps the youths thus launched upon the world were too young to take much, harm ; or perhaps that early necessity of self-regulation, im- posed under different and harder circumstances than those which have brought the English public schools into such fresh repute and popularity, bore all the fruit which it is now hoped and believed 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 thirteen, the other, probably, about fifteen, placed alone in their little 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 surprise with which we look back to so strange a picture of boyish life would not have been shared by the contemporary spectators who saw the south-country boys coming and going INDEPENDENCE. 17 to college without perceiving anything out of the way in it. The manner in which the little establishment was kept up is wonderfully primitive to hear of at so short a distance from our sophisticated times. Now and then the lads received a box from home, sent by the carrier, or by some " private oppor- tunity," full of oatmeal, cheese, and other homely necessities, and doubtless not without lighter embellishments to prove the mother's care for her boys. Probably their linen was conveyed back and forward to the home-laundry by the same means ; so that the money expense of the tiny establishment, with its porridge thus provided, and its home relishes of ham and cheese, making the school-boy board festive, must have been of the most limited amount. Altogether it is a quaint little pic- ture of the patriarchal life, now departed for ever. No private opportunities now-a-days carry such boxes ; and those very railways, which make the merest village next neighbour to all the world, have made an end of those direct primitive com- munications from the family table to its absent members. Nor is it easy to believe that boys of thirteen, living in lonely inde- pendence in Edinburgh, where the very streets are seducing and full of fascinations, and where every gleam of sunshine on the hills, and flash of reflection from the visible Firth, must draw youthful thoughts away from the steep gradus of a learning not hitherto found particularly attractive, could live within those strait and narrow 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 wealthier 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, de- tached from all collegiate associations, living in the midst of a working-day population, utterly unimpressed by the neigh- bourhood of a university, and interpolating the homely youth- ful idyll of their existence into the noisy, bustling, scolding, not over-savoury life of that old town of Edinburgh. Even such a vestige of academical dress as is to be found in the quaint red gown of Glasgow is unknown to the rigid Pro- testantism of the Scotch metropolis. 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 little room, with neither tutor nor as- sistant to help them through their difficulties, and lived a life of unconscious austerity, in which they themselves did not per- 2 18 HARD TRAINING. . ceive either the poverty or the hardship ; which, indeed, it is probable they themselves, and all belonging 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, lived a similar life ; the homely fare and spare accommodation, the unassisted studies ; and in most cases, as soon as that was practicable, personal exertions as teachers or otherwise, to help in the expense of their own education, looked almost a natural and inevitable beginning to- the life 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 pro- fessional life and future advancement. The Edinburgh " Session " lasts only from November till May ; leaving the whole summer free for the recreation, 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 arrived, our Annan boys sent off their boxes with the carrier, and, all joyful and vigorous, set out walking upon the homeward road. In after years Irving delighted in pedestrian journeys ; and it was most probably in those early walks that he learned, what was his habitual practice afterwards, to rest in the wayside cottages, and share the potato or the porridge to be found there. The habit of universal friendliness thus engendered did him good service afterwards for a man accus- tomed to such kindly relations with the poorest of his neigh- bours, does not need any other training to that frank uncon- descending courtesy which is so dear to the poor. " Edward walked as the crow flies," says one of his surviving relatives who has accompanied those walks when time was. Such an eccentric, joyful, straightforward progress must have been specially refreshing to the school-boy students, hastening to all the delights of home and country freedom. Whether Irving's progress during this period was beyond that of his contemporaries there is no evidence ; but he suc- ceeded sufficiently well to take his degree in April, 1809, when he was just seventeen, and to attract the friendly regard of Professor Christison, and of the distinguished and eccentric Sir John Leslie, then Mathematical Professor in the Edinburgh University ; both of whom interested themselves in his behalf EARLY READING. 19 as soon as he began his own independent career. So far as the library records go, he does not seem to have been an extra- ordinarily diligent student. There is a story told, which I have not been able to trace to any authentic source, of his having found in a farm-house, in the neighbourhood of Annan, a copy of Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, which is said to have power- fully attracted him, and given an impulse to his thoughts. 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 Fa- thers, Homer, and Newton," and to have trudged forward afoot with the additional load upon his stalwart shoulders, in great delight with his acquisition. There can be no doubt, at least, of his own reference to " the venerable companion of my early days Richard Hooker." In opposition to this se- rious reading stand the Arabian Nights, and sundry books with forgotten but suspicious titles, which appear against his name in those early times in the college library books most natural and laudable reading for a boy, but curiously inappro- priate 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 Rev. Dr Grierson, of Errol, " a miniature copy of Ossian ; passages from which he read or recited in his walks in the country, or delivered with sonorous elocution and vehement gesticulation " for the benefit of his companions. This is the first indication I can find of his ora- torical gifts, and that natural magniloquence of style which belonged equally to his mind and person. Among all Irving's fellow-students, there are no names which have attained more than local celebrity, except that of Thomas Carlyle, whose fame has overtopped and outlasted that of his 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 into parishes, and chaplaincies, and educational chairs ; but who were his 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, concentrated within so limited a sphere as that of Edinburgh, must have found out by magnetic attraction every light of genius within its bounds. But the ecclesiastical flats in which the youth stood, together with his humble origin, more than counter- acted that magnetism. If the Church everywhere never fails to be reminded that her kingdom is not of this world, that re- minder is specially thrust upon her in Scotland, where it is a principle of the creed of both ministers and people to believe 20 CARLYLE'S DESCRIPTION or IRVING. that even the payment in kind of applause and honour, which is gained in every other profession, is a sinful indulgence to a preacher ; and where demands are made upon his time and pa- tience far too engrossing to admit the claims of society. Irving went on in his early career far down in the shade of common life, 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 college 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 Leslie observed the fervour of the tall lad, and took him for a future prop of science. A younger fellow-stu- dent 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 people fancied he met equal opponents ; till it became neces- sary for him, seventeen years old, and a graduate of Edinburgh University, to begin to help himself onwards, during the tedi- ous intervals of his professional training. He 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 established in Haddington ; and by the recom- mendation of Sir John Leslie and of Professor Christison, Irving got the appointment. It was in the spring of 1810, after one session, as it is called, in the " Divinity Hall," and at the age of eighteen, that he entered upon this situation. To some- where about the same period must belong the description given of him in Carlyle's wonderful " Eloge." " The first time 1 saw Irving 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, ma- thematical, 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 him 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 de- fault 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 EARLY LABOURS. 21 this quality. " The blooming young man " went back to the school in which he was once kept in and punished, with can- did, joyful 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 education so far as reality went. For four or five years thereafter he was what is called a partial student of Divinity, matriculating regularly, and making his appearance in college to go through the necessary examinations, and deliver the prescribed dis- courses ; but carrying on his intermediate studies by himself, according to a license permitted by the Church. His Had- dington appointment removed him definitely from home and its homely provisions, and gave him an early outset for himself into the business and labours of independent life. So far from being a hardship, or matter to be lamented, it was the best thing his friends could have wished for him. Such inter- ruptions in the course of professional education were all but universal in Scotland ; and he went under the best auspices and with the highest hopes. CHAPTER IH. HADDINGTOtf. IRVING entered upon this second chapter of his youthful life in the summer of 1810. He was then in his eighteenth year still young enough, certainly, for the charge committed to him. Education was at a very low ebb 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 rising tide, however, stirred a faint ripple in this quiet place ; and the consequence was, the estab- lishment of that school called the mathematical, 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 whom woke up like magic under the touch of the boy student, so little older than themselves. Coming to the little town under these circumstances, recommended as a dis- tinguished student by a man of such eminence as Sir John Leslie, the young man had a favourable reception in his new 22 THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE DAUGHTER. sphere. " "When Irving first came to Haddington," writes 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 was admitted into the best society in the town and neighbourhood." Into one house, at least, he went with a more genial introduction, and under circumstances equally interesting and amusing. This was the house of Dr Welsh, the principal medical man of the district, whose family consisted of one little daughter, for whose training he enter- tained more ambitious views than little girls are generally the subjects of. This little girl, however, was as unique in mind as in circumstances. She heard, \vith eager childish wonder, a pe- rennial discussion carried on between her father and mother about her education ; both were naturally anxious to secure the special sympathy and companionship of their only child. The doctor, recovering from his disappointment that she loas a girl, was bent upon educating her like 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 daughter than the sweet domestic companion most congenial to herself. The child, who was not supposed to understand, listened eagerly, as children invariably do listen 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 little mind working with independent projects of its own. She resolved to take the first step in this awful but fascinating course, on her own responsibility. 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 farther off in a humble student of the neighbourhood. The little scholar had a dramatic instinct ; she did not pour forth her first lesson as soon as it was acquired, or rashly betray her secret. She waited the fitting place and moment. It was evening, when dinner had softened out the asperities of the day : the doctor sat in luxurious leisure in his dressing-gown and slippers, sipping his coffee ; and all the cheerful accessories of the fireside picture were complete. The little heroine had arranged herself under the table, under the crimson folds of the cover, which concealed her small person. All was still : the moment was arrived. " Penna, pennce, pen- nam ! " burst forth the little voice in breathless steadiness. The result may be imagined : the doctor smothered his child with kisses, and even the mother herself had not a word to say : the victory was complete. CONFLICT BETWEEN PITY AND TRUTH. 23 After this pretty scene, the proud doctor asked Sir John Leslie to send him a tutor for the little pupil who had made so promising a beginning. Sir John recommended the youthful teacher who was already in Haddington, and Edward Irving became the teacher of the little girl. Their hours of study were from six to eight in the morning which inclines one to imagine that, in spite of his fondness, the excellent doctor must have held his household under Spartan discipline ; and again in the evening after school hours. When the young tutor arrived in the dark of the winter mornings, and found his little pupil, scarcely dressed, peeping out of her room, he used to snatch her up in his arms, and carry her to the door, to name to her the stars shining in 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 tribulation of the household, in which the little philosopher pushed her inquiries into the puzzling meta- physics of life. The greatest affection sprang up, as was na- tural, 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 childhood, 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 little woman, thus confided to his boyish care, inspired him. Their intercourse did not have the romantic conclusion it might have been supposed likely to end in ; but, as a friendship, existed unbroken through all kinds of vicissitudes ; and even through entire separation, disap- proval, and outward estrangement, to the end of Irving's life. "When 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 pessime, the little girl was punished. One day he paused long before putting his sentence upon paper. The culprit sat on the table, small, downcast, and con- scious of failure. The preceptor lingered remorsefully over his verdict, wavering between justice and mercy. At last he looked up at her with pitiful looks. " Jane, my heart is broken ! " cried the sympathetic tutor, " but I must tell the truth ; " and with reluctant pen he wrote the dread deliverance, pessime ! The small offender doubtless forgot the penalty that followed ; but she has not yet forgotten the compassionate dilemma in which truth was the unwilling conqueror. The youth who entered his house under such circumstances 24 NEW FRIENDS. soon became a favourite guest at the fireside of the doctor, who, himself a man of education and intelligence, and of that disposi- tion which makes men beloved, was not slow to find out the great qualities of his young visitor. There are some men who seem born to the inalienable good fortune of lighting upon the best people "the most worthy," according to Irving's own expres- sion long afterwards wherever they go. Irving'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 delightful 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 little world of humanizing graces when he entered that atmosphere ; and it was only natural that he should retain the warmest re- collection of it throughout his life. It must have been of count- less benefit to him in this early stage of his career. The main quality in himself which struck observers was in strong and strange contradiction to the extreme devotion of belief mani- fested in his latter years the critical and almost sceptical tendency of his mind, impatient of superficial " received truths," and eager for proof and demonstration 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 to be. It was a peculiarity natural to his age and condition ; and as his language was always inclined to the superlative, and his feelings invariably took part in every matter which commended itself to his mind, it is probable that this inclination showed with a certain exaggeration to surrounding eyes. " This youth will scrape a hole in everything he is called on to believe," said the doctor ; a strange prophecy, looking at it by that light of events which unfold so many unthought-of meanings in all pre- dictions. In the mean time he made himself popular in the town ; and apart from the delightful vignette above, appears in all his na- tural picturesque individuality in other recollections. The young master of the mathematical school commended himself to the hearts of those whose sons he had quickened out of dunces into intelligent 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 INCIDENT IN ST GEORGE S CHURCH. ^0 severe and peremptory in school, " a sad tyrant," somebody says, out of doors he had just that delightful 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 instruments," says one of his pupils, Patrick Sheriff, Esq., of Haddington, "he devoted many of his school holidays to the measuring of heights and distances in the surrounding neighbourhood, and taking the altitudes of heavenly bodies. Upon such occasions he was invariably ac- companied by several of his pupils." When the state of the atmosphere, or any other obstacle, interrupted the particular object of the day's excursion, the young teacher readily and joyfully diverged into the athletic games in which he excelled ; and with the scientific instruments standing harmlessly by, enjoyed his holiday as well as if everything had been favourable for their use. "Being 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 announced to preach in St George's, Edinburgh, upon a summer week-day evening, Irving set out from Haddington after school- hours, accompanied by several of his pupils, and returned the same night, accomplishing a distance of about thirty-five miles without any other rest than what was obtained in church." The fatigue of this long walk was enlivened when the little party arrived at the church by a little 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 such a time all the seats were open to the public, but without effect. At last his patience gave way ; and raising his hand he exclaimed, evidently with all his natural magniloquence of voice and ges- ture, " Remove your arm, or I will shatter it in pieces ! " His astonished opponent fell back in utter dismay, like Mrs Sid- dons' shopman, and made a precipitate retreat, while the rejoic- ing boys took possession of the pew. Thus, for the first time, 26 SOCIETY IN HADDINGTON. Irving and Chalmers were brought, if not together, at least into the same assembly. The great preacher knew nothing of the lad who had come nearly eighteen miles to hear him preach, and sat resting his mighty youthful limbs in the seat from which he had driven his enemy. Such glimpses are curious and full of interest, especially in remembrance of other days which awaited Chalmers and Irving in that same church of St George. To return to Haddington, however ; Irving not only estab- lished 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 little town. Among those who had children at the Mathematical 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 though the humble position of Dominie did not give him a very high place in the social scale, and restricted his friendships within the circle of those whose sons he educated, there were a sufficiently large number of the latter to make their young pre- ceptor known and received at most of the good houses in Had- dington. " Social supper parties," says Mr Alexander Inglis, once a resident in Haddington, who has kindly furnished me with some recollections of this period, " were much the custom at this time in Haddington, and the hospitalities generally ex- tended far into the night. At these social meetings Irving was occasionally in the habit of broaching some of his singular opinions about the high destinies of the human race in heaven, 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 in the New Testa- ment 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 reward ? ' 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 you 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 ca- pacity had cured the daughter of a Scotch nobleman of sup- YOUNG COMPANIONS. 27 posed consumption. The physician 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 neighbourhood in his double capacity. He too had been able to discern in some degree those qualities of mind and heart, which, despite his vehement speech and impatience, and love of argumentation, showed themselves in the young schoolmaster. In this Manse of Bolton Irving was in the habit of spending his Saturdays, along with a young fellow- student of his own, Mr Story, afterwards of Eosneath. Nor was he without society of his own age and standing. In those days, when long walks were habitual to everybody, Haddington was within reach of Edinburgh ; perhaps more distinctly within reach than now, when, instead of the long pleasant summer afternoon walk, costing nothing, the rapid railway, with inevit- able shillings and sixpences, and fixed hours of coming and going, does away with distance, yet magnifies the walk into a journey. On Saturdays and holidays there was no lack of visitors. A tide of eager young life palpitated about the teacher- student, even in that retirement, life of a wonderfully different fashion from that which issues from English universities ; con- fined to limits much more narrow, and bound to practical necessities ; a world more hard and real. Among these com- rades there were perhaps scarcely two or three individuals whose studies were not professional ; and among the profes- sional students only a small number who were not, like Irving himself, taxing their youthful strength to procure the means of prosecuting their studies. His independence seems now to have been complete. In his humble Haddington lodgings he was no longer indebted even for his oatmeal and cheese to the home household, but had set out manful and early on the road of life for himself. Hence- forward Edward's expenses did not rank among the cares of the Annan home. At seventeen and a half the young man took up his own burden without a word or a token of complaint ; and ever after bore it courageously through all discouragements and trials, never breaking down or falling back upon the love, which, notwithstanding, his stout heart always trusted in. Neither genius, nor that temperament of genius, impassioned and visionary, which 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 simplicity, neither resenting it, nor quarrelling with those 8 LEAVES HADDINGTON. 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 re- spected tutor, or the commotions of the indignant one, have no place whatever in Irving's youthful life. When the Hadding- ton corporation, not likely to be the most considerate masters in the world, afflicted their young schoolmaster, it is to be sup- posed 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 little Haddington school he was promoted, always with the good offices of Sir John Leslie, who seems to have had a sincere kindness for him, to the mastership of a newly established academy in Kirkcaldy ; in which place he spent a number of years, and decided various important matters deeply concerning his future life. CHAPTEE IV. KIBKCALDT. " THE lang town of Kirkcaldy " extends along the northern side of the Firth of Forth, and is one of the most important of that long line of little towns fishing, weaving, trading centres of local activity, which gleam along the margin 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, broken line, downward from Q.ueensferry, till the coast rounds oif into St Andrew's Bay ; and are full of a busy yet leisurely industry, sometimes quickened almost into the restless pulse of trade. Kirkcaldy earned its title of the " lang town " from the pro- longed line of its single street, running parallel to the shore for rather more than a mile, and at that time had not widened into proportioned breadth, nor invested itself with tiny suburbs KIRKCALDY ACADEMY. 29 and the body of scattered population which now gives it im- portance. In the year 1812 there was no school in this flour- ishing and comfortable place, except the parish school, with its confusion of ranks and profound Republicanism of letters, where boys and girls of all classes were rudely drilled into the common elements of education, with such climaxes of Latin and mathematics as were practicable. The professional people of Kirkcaldy, headed by the minister, who had himself a large family to educate, and the well-to-do shopkeepers and house- holders of the place, determined, accordingly, upon the estab- lishment of a new school, of higher pretensions, and Edward Irving was selected as its first master. Two rooms in a cen- tral " wynd," opening into each other, with a tiny class-room attached now occupied by a humble schoolmaster, who points to his worm-eaten wooden desks as being those used by " the great Mr Irving " were simply fitted up into the new aca- demy. Without any accessories to command respect, in a humble locality, with a cobbler's hutch in the sunk storey beneath, and common houses crowding round, the new institution, notwith- standing, impressed respect upon the town, and soon became important. Boys and girls, as was usual, sat together at those brown oaken desks without the least separation, and pursued their studies together with mutual rivalry. For some time Irving managed them alone, but afterwards had an assistant, and in this employment remained for seven years, and had the training of a generation in his hands. The recollection of him is still fresh in the town ; his picturesque looks, his odd ways, his severities, his kindnesses, the distinct individuality of the man. Here that title which was afterwards to be the popular designation of a religious community came into active playful use, long and innocently antedating its more permanent mean- ing, and the academy scholars distinguished each other as " Irvingites," a special and affectionate bond of fraternity. He was now twenty, and had attained his full height, which some say was two, and some four, inches over six feet ; his ap- pearance was noble and remarkable to a high degree, his fea- tures fine, his figure, in its great height, fully developed and vigorous ; the only drawback to his good looks being the de- fect in his eye, which, with so many and great advantages to counterbalance it, seems rather to have given piquancy to his face than to have lessened its attraction. Such a figure at- tracted universal attention : he could not pass through a vil- lage without being remarked and gazed after ; and some of his Kirkcaldy pupils remember the moment when they first saw 60 SEVERE DISCIPLIX-E. him. with the clearness which marks, not an ordinary meeting, but an event. This recollection is perhaps assisted by the fact, that though a divinity student, already overshadowed by the needful gravity of the priesthood, and in present posses- sion of all the importance of a " Dominie," he had no such solemn regard to dress as afterwards became one of his pecu- liarities, but made his appearance in Kirkcaldy in a morning coat made of some set of tartan in which red predominated, to the admiration of all beholders. A young man of twenty, with the full charge of a large number of boys and girls, in a limited space, and undertaking all the items of a miscellaneous education, no doubt needed the assistance of a somewhat rigorous discipline, and it is evident that he used its help with much freedom. Sounds were heard now and then proceeding from the school-room which roused the pity and indignation of the audience of neighbours out of doors. One of these, a joiner, deacon of his trade, and 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, Mr Irving ? " with dreadful irony. Another ludicrous mistake testifies to the general notion that careless scholars occasionally got somewhat hard measure from the young master. Some good men loitering about their gar- dens, in the neighbourhood of the " academy," heard outcries which alarmed them ; and, convinced that murder was being accomplished in the school, set off to save the victim ; but dis- covered, to their great discomfiture, that the cries which had attracted their sympathy came from an unfortunate animal under the hands of a butcher, and not from a tortured school- boy. These severe measures, however, by no means obliterate 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 school-boys without identifying himself with them, and carrying them with him into all the occupa- tions and amusements which they could possibly be made to bear a share in. On the holidays the young teacher might be seen with 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 surveying, which, half in sport and half in earnest, doubtless, were not without their use to the fortunate lads thus promoted to share his hours of leisure. The same lads went with him to the Firth, where he * Anglice assistance, & helper. " DOING ALL THINGS HEARTILY." 31 renewed those feats of swimming which had distinguished him on the Sol way ; and, sometimes with an urchin on his shoulder, sometimes holding an oar or a rope to sustain the more advanced, sometimes lending the aid of his own vigorous arm, the young Hercules taught, or endeavoured to teach, his pupils to be as fearless in the water as himself. If he might sometimes happen to be discontented with his occupation, as was very possible, it never occurred to Irving to evidence that feeling by doing just as little as could be demanded of him. Exactly the reverse was the impulse of his generous, single-minded nature. He went into it with all the fresh, natural fulness of his heart. He never seems to have attempted making any division of himself. And this is no picture of an interesting student compelled to turn aside from his studies by the necessity of maintaining himself and if not resentful, at least preserving a certain re- serve and pathetical injured aspect towards the world, as there are so many ; but an entire 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 such a disposition, he could not even enter into any work without insensibly getting to love it, and spending himself freely, with exuberant volunteer efforts not demanded of him. Under no circumstances was indifference possible to this young man ; though, even then, it is very apparent, pro- phetic visions of a very different audience, and of future pos- sibilities which no one else dreamt of, were with him in the midst of his hearty and cordial labours. 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 rolling in at his feet in waves more grand and less impetuous than those of his native Sol way ; with green islands gleaming in the light, and Arthur's Seat looming out through the Edinburgh smoke in the distance, a moody lion ; and many a moonlight night upon the same shore, collecting round him his little band of eager disciples, to point out the stars in their courses, and communicate such poetical elements of astronomy as were congenial to such a scene. These latter meetings were disturbed and brought to a conclusion in a whimsical homely fashion. One season it happened that, on two different occasions when they met, falling stars were seen. Forthwith some of the common people took iip 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 32 MILTON CLASS. in amongst them with ignorant, half-superstitious curiosity, broke up the little 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 domain, as the different classes went on with their lessons, he moved about in perpetual activity, seldom sitting down, and always fully intent upon the progress of his flock. Now and then he gave them a holiday, on condition of receiving afterwards an essay describing how they had spent their time receiving in return some amusing productions largely taken up with birds' nesting and other such exploits of rustic boyhood. Both French and Italian, in addition to the steadier routine of Latin and mathematics, seem to have been attempted by the ardent young teacher ; and his own class read Milton with him, learn- ing large portions of Paradise Lost by heart. " Wherever the sense seemed involved, the pupils were required to re-arrange the sentence and give it in prose. This implied a thorough understanding of the passage and appreciation of its meaning." Altogether a system of education of a lofty optimist character, 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 Milton Class before the arrival of her companions, and on reaching the door of the class-room, found Irving alone, reciting to himself one of the speeches of Satan, with so much emphasis and so gloomy a countenance, that the ter- rified 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, which were specially dear to their young instructor ; and much apart from mathematics Irving so managed to impress his spirit upon the lads under his charge, that the common conjunction of boys and girls in this school became the means of raising a certain chivalrous spirit, not naturally abounding among school-boys, in Kirkcaldy and its academy. That spirit of chivalry which, under the form of respect to women, embodies the truest magnanimous sentiment of strength, rose involun- tarily among the youths commanded by such a leader. They learned to suspend their very snow-ball bickers till the girls had passed out of harm's way ; and awing the less fortunate gamins of the little town by their sturdy championship, 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 generous zeal of the " Irvingites." The girls perhaps on their side were not equally considerate, but won prizes over the heads of their stronger "MUCH-RESPECTED PUPILS." 33 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 necessary to secure be- forehand, however, that times were 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 floggings 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 Kirkcaldy he was still a partial student at the Divinity Hall. During the first three winters he had to go over to Edinburgh now and then, to deliver the discourses which were necessary, in order to keep up his standing as a student. " On these occasions," says the lady from whose notes the chief details of his Kirk- caldy history are taken, " to insure his pupils losing as little as possible, he used to ask them to meet him at the school at six, or half-past-six, in the morning. This arrangement en- abled him to go over the most important of the lessons before the hour at which the fly started to meet the passage-boat at Kinghorn" that being, before the age of steamers, the most rapid conveyance between Fife and Edinburgh. On his return from one such expedition, he himself describes how, " in fear of a tedious passage across the ferry under night, I requested from a friend of mine in Edinburgh a book, which, by combining instruction with amusement, might at once turn, to account the time, and relieve the tiresomeness of the voy- age." The book was Rasselas ; and was afterwards 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 desired it to be given as a prize to the best scholar in the school, and having been present at the examination, distinguished these two, without being able to decide between them ; but at the same time deprecated any mention of himself on account of the trifling value of his gift. Whereupon Irving adds, with quaint antique solemnity, that 3 34 THE MINISTER OF KIRKCALDY. " it was not the 'worth but the honour which should be re- garded : that the conquerors of Greece and Rome reckoned themselves more honoured 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 the present mutual, it will not only be a testimonial of your progress, but also of that attachment which I hope will ripen, into cordial friendship ; and which it is the more pleasant to observe as its place is too often occupied by jealousy and envy." Out of this exemplary beginning, however, sprang important conclusions. Though it was only after a distance of long year* and much separation, the usual vicissitudes of youthful life, and all the lingering delays of a classical probation, that the engage- ment was completed, Irving found his mate in Fifeshire. 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 in the person of Dr Martin, of Monimail, her grandfather, who survived long enough to baptize and bless his great-grand- children 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 Rev. 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, fully subject to their observation and criti- cism, but without any rival in his position or influence ; bringing up his many children among them, and spending his active days in all that fatherly close supervision of morals and manners which distinguished and became the old hereditary ministers of Scotland. He was of the party then called " wild" or " high-flyers," in opposition to the " Moderates," who formed the majority of the Church, and whose flight was certainly low enough to put them in little hazard from any skyey influ- ences. Such a man in those days exercised over the bulk of his 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 "TRIALS FOR LICENSE." 35 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 equally ready to jeer at aud scorn him when he was not, with a contempt increased by their na- tional appreciation of the importance of his office. To the house of this good man Irving had early obtained access, the Manse children in a goodly number being among his scholars, and the Manse itself forming the natural centre of all lay pro- fessors of literature in a region which had too many sloops and looms on hand to be greatly attracted that way. The family in this Manse of Kirkcaldy, which afterwards became so closely related to him, and the younger members of which understood him all the better that their minds had been formed and deve- loped under his instruction, were, during all his after life, Irving's fast friends, accompany ing him, not with concurrence or agreement certainly, but with faithful affection and kind- ness to the very edge of the grave. He had now completed his necessary tale of collegiate ses- sions, 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 license," which Presbyterian precautions require. " They are now taken to the severest trials by the Presbytery of the Church in those bounds where they reside," he himself de- scribes with loving boastfulness, proud of the severities of the Church from which he never could separate his heart, " and circular 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 himself 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, his piety, his learning, and his character^ They prescribe to him five several discourses ; one an ' Exegesis,' 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 trials last half a year ; and being found sufficient, he is per- mitted to preach the G-ospel among the churches. But he is not yet ordained, for our Church ordaineth no man without a flock." It is thus that Irving, when at the height of his fame, and opening the great new church built for him in London, affec- tionately vaunts the carefulness of his ecclesiastical mother. 36 IRVIXG'S FIRST SERMON. He went through his " trials " in the early part of the year 1815, and was fully licensed to preach the Gospel by the Pres- bytery 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 ex- citement 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 despite, dropped out bodily, and fluttered down upon the precentor's desk underneath. A perfect rustle of excitement ran through the church ; here was an unhoped-for crisis ! what would the neophyte do now ? 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 a congregation in Scotland which that act would not have taken by storm. His success was triumphant. To criticize a man so visibly independent of "the paper" would have been presumption indeed. In Kirkcaldy, however, his appearances neither excited such interest, nor were attended by any such fortunate accident. The people listened doubtfully to those thunder-strains which echoed over their heads, and which were certainly not like Dr Martin's sermons. They could not tell what to make of dis- courses so strangely different from the discourses of other or- thodox 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, Beve- ridge by name (let us hand it down to such immortality as can be referred by this record), rudely, with Scotch irre- verence for the place in which he was, kicked his pew-door open and bounced 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 " OWER MUCKLE GKAN'isEIl." 37 with hearers coming far and near at the name of the great preacher, thinned out of its ordinary attendance in those early days when he was to sxipply Dr Martin's place. He got no credit and little encouragement in what was, after all, his real vocation. The fervent beginnings of his eloqiience were thrown back cold upon his heart : no eye in his audience making response to that imperfect splendid voice of half- developed genius which was so wonderfully distinct from the common-place shrills of ordinary pulpit declamation which they listened to and relished. He had " ower muckle gran'ner " for the good people of Kirkcaldy. His chaotic splendours dis- concerted them ; and no doubt there was a certain" justice in the general voice. A style so rich and splendid might very well have sounded turgid or bombastic in youth, before the harmonious key-note 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 edification ; noting how the people to whom his own " unacceptableness " was apparent, relished the plati- tudes of meaner men : laying in unconsciously 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 he could at once watch the pulpit and the audience, with thoughts on this mo- mentous 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 question, whether this was the preaching of Paul and his brother apostles ? This process of thought is apparent throughout all his works, and above all in the Orations with which he first burst upon the world. Those three years of slow successive Sundays, now and then inter- rupted 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 deeper impatience of, the com- mon conventionalities of the pulpit. During this period of his life, his personal religious senti- ments are not very apparent, 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 point of so many minds. He was spotless in manners and morals at all times ; but not without faults of temper ; and was specially dis- tinguished by a certain cheerful, cordial pugnacity, and readi- ness, when occasion called for it, to adopt a boldly oifensive line of tactics in support of his own dignity and independence, or those of his class ; partly stimulated thereto, doubtless, by 38 ADVENTURE IN A HIGHLAND INN. the great personal strength which could no more consent to re- main inactive than any other of his gifts. In one of his many walking excursions, for example, he and his companion came to a little 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 their return, however, they found the room occupied by a party of tourists, the only table filled, their dinner forestalled, and their belongings huddled into a corner. Remonstrances were unavailing ; 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 Avere 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, according 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 Regiment, having returned after Waterloo, was employed to line the streets of Edinburgh on the day when, at the opening of the General Assembly, the Royal Commissioner 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 fellow ? I should like 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 enlivened by a momentary specimen of the young man's muscular power. It is impossible, out of Scotland, to form any idea of what was then the interest excited by the General Assembly, which had been for centuries the national parliament of exclusive Scottish principles and feelings. The late Lord Cockburn, in his Memorials, as well as in his Life of Lord Jeffrey, has repro- duced, in slight but graphic sketches, the characteristic aspect of that unique ecclesiastical body. Scotch churchmen may naturally enough object to the friendly but not reverential de- scription 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. At the period of which we are now speaking, there was scarcely any dissent in the country ; the body of the nation held tenaciously by the Kirk, laymen of the GENERAL ASSEMBLY. 39 highest class shared in its deliberations, and the most distin- guished lawyers of the Scotch bar pleaded in its judicial courts. A great discussion in the Assembly was as interesting to Edin- burgh as a great debate in Parliament would be in London to- day ; and the interest, and even excitement, which attended this yearly Convocation, had taken a stimulus from the grow- ing stir of external life, and from the still more important growth of existence within. The time was critical for every existing institution. The Church, long dormant, was, like other organizations, beginning to thrill with a new force, against which all the slumbrous past arrayed itself ; and the Scotch metropolis was stirred with universal emotion to see the new act of that world-long drama which is renewed from age to age in every 6hurch and country ; that struggle in which, once in a century at least, indifference and common usage are brought to bay by the new life rising against them, and, roused at last, fight for their sluggish existence with such powers as they are nble to muster. At such a moment occurred the famous " De- bate on Pluralities," which holds an important place in the modern history of the Scotch Church a debate in which " Chalmers of Kilmany," not long before zealously ambitious to hold such pluralities in his own person, but who had since gone through that mysterious and wonderful change in his views, which, when clearly honest and undoubted, no human audience can refuse to be interested in, was to lead the attack. The pluralities in question were such as might awaken the smiles of the richer establishment on the other side of the Tweed, where the word bears a more important meaning. The widest extent of pluralities possible to a Scotch clergyman was that of holding a professor's chair in conjunction with his pul- pit and parochial duties. This question, which at the time, from the parties and principle involved, interested everybody, had naturally a double interest for the future ministers of the Church. 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 Assembly Aisle, one of the quaint sub-divisions into which that church, like Glasgow Cathedral in former days, has been partitioned for congrega- tional use and convenience, and where the narrow pews and deep steep galleries, thrust in between the lofty pillars, are as much out of keeping with those pillars themselves as is the white-washed blank of wall, despoiled of its tombs and altars, under the calm height of the vault above. " The Old Assem- bly Aisle," says the gentleman already quoted, " afforded but very limited accommodation, and the students' gallery was un- 40 INTOLERANCE OF CIRCUMSTANCES. derstood to be occupied by some persons not of their body. At this Irving felt great indignation. He remonstrated with the door-keeper, but in vain ; he demanded entrance for him- self and others 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 in- terrupted the proceedings of the court, and produced both sur- prise and diversion, but no redress of grievances." As the time of his probation lengthened out, it is probable that Irving, with all his inclinations rising towards the profes- sion which the Church had now solemnly sanctioned his choice of, and pronounced him capable for, became very weary of his schoolmaster life. Another school, in opposition to his, was set up in the town, not apparently from any distaste towards him, but from the advancing desire for liberal education which his own long apprenticeship in Kirkcaldy must have fostered ; a school which singular luck for the little 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 however 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 live under his own charge. For this purpose, he took up his abode in the Abbots- hall school-house, at one extremity of the town of Kirkcaldy, but in another parish, the parish schoolmaster of which was, like 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 schoolmasters' houses. A nobler Marina could not be than the broad terrace over- looking the Firth, but totally unappropriated to any uses of fashion or visitors, upon which stands the school-house of Abbots- hall, 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 its bays and hills. Whether 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 the present incumbent, 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 AFLOAT ON THE WORLD. 41 his sun rose to noon, and at noon disastrously went down, carrying with it a world of hopes ; a mist of distance conceals- the brilliant interval between this homely house and the Glas- gow Cathedral crypt. Here, where once he lived, it is not the great preacher, the prophet and wonder of an age, whose shadow lingers on the kindly soil. He was master of Kirkcaldy Aca- demy in those days. He was " a great mathematician ; " the glory of an after career, foreign to the school-room, has not rubbed out that impression from the mind of his humble suc- cessor on the spot where as yet he had no other fame. CHAPTER V. AFLOAT ON THE WORLD. IN 1818, when he had been seven years in Kirkcaldy, and had now reached the maturity of his twenty-sixth year, Irving finally left his school and gave up teaching. The position seems to have been growing irksome to him for some time be- fore. It was not his profession ; and he was wasting the early summer of his life in work which, however cordially he em- braced it, was not the best work for such a man. His assist- ants 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 ex- citement of all 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 Edinburgh, where he took lodgings in Bristo Street, a locality still frequented by students. Here he was near the college, and in the centre of all that mental activity from which he had been separated in the drowsy retirement of the country town. He entered largely and gladly into all academical pur- suits. He renewed his acquaintance with friends who had been with him in his early college days ; or Avhom he had met in his- hurried visits to Edinburgh, while lingering through his tedious- 42 RENEWED STUDIES. " partial " sessions in the Divinity Hall ; and seems to have heartily set to work to increase his own attainments, and make himself better qualified for whatsoever post he might be called to. It is not a brilliant period in the young man's life. He presents himself to us in the aspect of an unsuccessful proba- tioner, 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 un- solicited either by friendly ministers or vacant congregations a man fully licensed 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 con- sciousness of having pondered the whole matter much more deeply than is usual with young preachers, there rose before Irving the immovable barrier of unsuccess ; not failure r he had never found means to try his powers sufficiently for failure even that might have been less hard to bear than the blank of indifference and " unacceptability " which he had now to en- dure. His services were not required in the world ; the pro- fession for which, by the labours of so many years, he had slowly qualified himself, hung in his hands, an idle capability of which nothing came. Yet the pause at first seems to have been grateful. He had nothing to do but at all events he had escaped from long toiling at a trade which was not his. Accordingly, he attended several classes in the college 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 Mr Gordon, afterwards Dr Gordon of Edinburgh, he confesses, while mentioning that he had been studying mineralogy, " that he had learned from it as little 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 Irving 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 life. In the reviving glow of intellectual life, his long pondering upon the uses of the pulpit came to a distinct issue. He an- nounced his intention of burning all his existing sermons, and beginning on a new system :. an intention which was remorse- lessly carried out. Those prelections which the youth had * Difficult, puzzling. BEGINS ANEW. 43 delivered 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 hearing, were sacrificed in this true auto-da-fe. No doubt it was a fit and wise holocaust. Sacrificing all his youthful conventionalities and speculations, Irving, at six-and-twenty, began to compose what he was to address to such imaginary hearers as he him- self 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 peren- nial explanation of all wonders which lies in genius, from this fact. For the four silent years during which he had possessed the right to speak, other people had been addressing him out of Dr Martin's pulpit ; all the ordinary 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. He knew where they failed, and how they failed, far more distinctly than reason or even imagination could have taught him. Their tedium, their ineffectiveness, their wasted power and superficial feeling, told all the more strongly upon him because of his consciousness that the place thus occupied was his own fit place, and that he him- self had actually something to say ; and when the school- master's daily duties were over, and he had time and leisure to turn towards his own full equipment, the result was such as I have just described. Warmed and stimulated by his own ex- perience, he began to write sermons to himself that impatient, vehement hearer, whose character and intelligence 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. "While he wrote he had always in his eye that brilliant, dissatisfied, restless list- ener, among the side pews in Kirkcaldy church. He knew to a hair's-breadth what that impatient individual wanted how much he could bear how he could be interested, edified, or disgusted. I have no doubt it -was one of the great 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 pro- longed experiment of other people's preaching, came to be its own perennial hearer the first and deepest critic of its own powers. While in Edinburgh, and entering into all the pleasures of its congenial intellectual society, Irving met once more the little pupil whose precocious studies he had superintended 44 HIS HADDINGTON PUPIL. at Haddington. He found her a beautiful and vivacious girl, with an aifectionate 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 appear- ance 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 liberal stops somewhere. When Irving heard the praises of one of those same friends falling too warmly from the young lady's lips, he could not conceal a little pique and mortifica- tion which escaped in spite of him. When this little ebulli- tion was over, the fair 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. When she came back, she found the simple-hearted giant standing peni- tent to make his confession. " The truth is, I was piqued," said Irving ; " I have always been accustomed to fancy that 1 stood highest in 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 representation of his prevailing characteristic. He could no more have retained what he felt to be a meanness on his mind unconfessed, than he could have persevered in the wrong. Thus the session- the few busy months of university la- bours the long year of expectation and hope, -passed over amid many occupations and solacements of friendship. 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 might have flourished in any vulgar town in existence, and bore no trace of those enchantments of Edin- burgh windows, 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 warnings of experience upon his sermons, but the result had not followed his expect- ation. He was still, after a year's interval, the same unem- ployed probationer that he had left Kirkcaldy ; his 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 solitude, making up his mind, with a grieved surprise which is quite touching and grand in its unthought-of humility, that this gift of his, THE APOSTOLIC MISSIONARY. 45 after all his labours, was still not the gift which was to prove effectual in his native country. He loved his country with a kind of worship, but still, if she would not have him, it was needful rather to carry what he could do elsewhere, than to lie idle, making no use of those faculties which had to be put to usury according to his Master's commandment. The countryman of Mungo Park and school-fellow 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 apostolic 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, with Exeter Hall expectant behind him, and a due tale of conversions to render year after year, Irving never could have been ; but in his despondency and discouragement the youthful thought which had stirred him long ago, returned, as a kind of comfort and hopeful alternative, to his mind. To make his way through the continent, a religious wanderer totally unencumbered with worldly provisions, it was necessary 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 enterprise swelling above the weariness of sickened hope. It was not the modern type of missionary, going, laden with civilization and a printing press, to clear his little garden in the wilder- ness. It was the red-cross knight in that armour dinted with the impress of many battle-fields ; it was the apostolic mes- senger, undaunted and solitary, bearing from place to place 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 bred and country loving as he was, still shut up in the shabby world of Bristo Street. "Rejected by the living," he is recorded to have said, " I conversed with the dead." His eyes turned to the east, as was natural. He thought of Persia, it is said, where the Malcolms, his countrymen, from the same vigorous soil of Annandale, were making themselves illustrious; . and with grammars and alphabets, with map and history, with the silent fathers of all literature standing by, prepared him- self 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 46 CARLYLE. life, and reveal, if not much of his loftier aspirations, at least all the hopeful uncertainty, the suspense, sometimes the depres- sion, always the warm activity and expectations, naturally be- longing to such a pause in the young man's existence. Here is a remarkable glimpse 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 brilliant and longer t-han Irving's, took its beginning in the same cloudy regions of uncertainty and un- success : " Carlyle goes away to-morrow, and Bro\vn the next day. So here I am once more on my own resources, except Dixon, who 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 Patinos many a splendid purpose to be fulfilled, and much improve- ment to be wrought out. ' 1 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 my 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. 3 So he reasons and resolves ; but surely a 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. God knows how ill 1 do it ; but perhaps in His grace He may defend me till the arrival of a day more pregnant to me with hours of reb'gious improvement. " I had much more to say of the religious meetings I have been at- tending, and of the Burgher Synod, and of purposes of a literary kind I am conceiving, but lo ! 1 am at an end with my paper and time, having just enough of both to commend me to the love of your household and to the fellowship of your prayers. "Your most affectionate friend, " EDWARD IEVTNG." It was while in this condition, and with contending hopes and despairs in his mind, that Irving received a sudden invita- tion from Dr Andrew Thomson, the minister of St George's, to preach in his pulpit. It would be inconsistent with the loved principles of Presbyterian parity to distinguish even so eminent a man as Dr Andrew Thomson as of the highest clerical rank 'in Edinburgh ; but he really was so, in as far as noble talent, a PREACHES IN ST GEORGE^ EDINBURGH. 47 brilliant and distinct character, and not least important a church in the most fashionable quarter, could make him. With the exception of Dr Chalmers, he was perhaps the first man of his generation then in the Church of Scotland ; so that the in- vitation itself was a compliment to the neglected probationer. But the request conveyed also an intimation that Dr Chalmers was to be present, and that he was then in search of an assist- ant in the splendid labours he was beginning in Glasgow. This invitation naturally changed the current of Irving' s thoughts. It turned him back from his plans of apostolical wandering, as well as from the anxious efforts of his friends to procure pupils who might advance his interests, and placed before him the most desirable opening to his real profession Avhich 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 affections, was dearer to him than even that aus- tere martyr-path which it was in his heart to follow if need was. He went to St George's with a new impulse of expecta- tion, and preached, there can be little doubt, that one of his sermons which he thought most satisfactory. He describes this event to Mr Martin as follows, with a frankness of youth- ful pleasure, and at the same time a little transparent assump- tion of indifference as to the result, in a letter dated the 2nd August, 1819 : " I preached Sunday week in St George's before Andrew Thomson and Dr Chalmers, with general, indeed, so far as I have heard, universal approbation. Andrew said for certain ' It was the production of no ordinary mind ; ' and how Dr Chalmers expressed his approbation 1 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 assistant. Whether he is making them, now he has heard me, and where he is making them, I do not know. For though few people can fight the battle of preferment without pre- occupying the ground, &c., I would wish to be one 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 pro- curing. 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 apartments. He waited there for some time in blank, discouraging silence ; then con- 48 SUSPENSE. eluded 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 dis- couragements. 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 discon- solate moment he could still find time to write to his pupil and future sister-in-law about an Italian 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 in 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 wrong boat, and was obliged to come ashore again. 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 mind and feeling, Irving resolved, in his half-desperation and momentary recklessness, to take the first which left the quay, and leaping listlessly into this, found it Irish, and bound for Belfast. The voyage was accomplished in safety, but not without an adventure in the end. Some no- table crime had been perpetrated in Ireland about that time, the doer of which was still at large, filling the minds of the people with dreams of capture, and suspicions of every stranger. Of all the strangers entering that port of Belfast, perhaps there was no one so remarkable as this tall Scotchman, with his knapsack and slender belongings, his extraordinarily powerful frame, and his total ignorance of the place, who was travelling without any feasible motive or object. The excited authorities found the circumstances so remarkable, that they laid sus- picious hands upon the singular stranger, who was only freed from their surveillance by applying to the Presbyterian minister, the Rev. 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 embar- rasing contretemps on land ; and Irving's heart, always open to children, expanded at once for the amusement of the children of that house. One of those boys was the Rev. Dr Hanna of Edinburgh, the biographer and son-in-law of Chalmers, who, at the distance of so many years, remembers the stories of the . IMITATION TO GLASGOW. 4& 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 Ire- land, 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 civilized persons or conventional 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 life. 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 questions which shortly must be faced and resolved. Presently 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 thingwhich mostpeoplehave somehow done, or at least attempted to do, at the crisis of their lives. When he re-emerged out of this refreshing blank, and came to the common world again, where letters and ordinary appeals of life were awaiting 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 compelled to send it on for his son's own inspection. This enclosure was from Dr Chalmers, inviting Irving to go to Glasgow ; but the date was some weeks back, and the invita- tion was by no means distinct as to the object for which he was wanted. It was enough, however, to stir the reviving heart of the young giant, whom his fall, and contact with kindly mother earth, had refreshed and re-invigorated. He set out without loss of time for Glasgow, but only to find Dr Chalmers absent, and once more to be plunged into the linger- ing pangs of suspense. While waiting the Doctor's return, Irving again reported himself and his new expectations to his friends in Kirkcaldy. " Glasgow, 1st September, 1819. " You see I am once more in Scotland ; and bow I came to have found my way to the same place I started from, you shall now learu. On 4 50 INTEREST IN CHURCH AFFAIRS. Friday last arrived at Coleraine a letter from Dr Chalmers, pressing me to meet him in Edinburgh on the 30th, or in Glasgow the 31st Aug. So here I arrived, after a very tempestuous passage in the Rob Roy ; and upon calling on the Doctor, I find he is still in Anstruther, at which place he proposes remaining awhile longer than he anticipated, and requests to have a few days of me there. So, but for another cir- cumstance, you might have seen me posting through Kirkcaldy to An- ster, 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 dis- abled in my rigging I was in the Kingdom ; * conceive me, then, to have wandered a whole fortnight among the ragged sons of St Patrick, to have scrambled about the Giant's Causeway, and crossed the Chan- nel 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 Glasgow bodies ken f u' 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 com- forts of Bond Street either. I shall certainly now remain till I have seen and finally determined with 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 organization of the Synod of Ulster, and of a case of discipline 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 Kirk- caldy. 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 young man's discouraged mind must have been unspeakable. Here, at last, was one man who understood the unacceptable probationer, and perceived 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 recognized by another mind was new life to Irving ; and such a mind ! the generous intelligence of the first of Scotch preachers. But with Presbyterian scrupulosity, in the midst of his eagerness, Irving hung back still. He could not submit to be "intruded upon" the people by the mere will of the in- cumbent, and would not receive even that grateful distinction, if he continued as distasteful as he had hitherto found himself. * The Kingdom of Fife, fondly so called by its affectionate population. GLASGOW.; 51 He was not confident of his prospects even when backed by the powerful encouragement of Dr Chalmers. " I will preach to them if you think fit," he is reported to have said ; " but if they bear with my preaching, they will be the first people who have borne with it ! " In this spirit, with the unconscious hu- mility of a child, sorry not to satisfy his judges, but confessing the failure which he scarcely could understand, he preached his first sermon to the fastidious congregation in St John's. This was in October, 1819. " He was generally well liked, but some people thought him rather flowery. However, they were satisfied that he must be a good preacher, since Dr Chalmers had chosen him," says a contemporary witness. It was thus with little confidence on his own part, and somewhat careless indulgence on the part of the people, who were already in possesion of the highest preaching of the time, that Irving opened his mouth at last, and began his natural career. CHAPTER VI. GLASGOW. IT was in October, 1819, that Irving began his work in Glasgow the first real work iu his own profession which had opened to him. He was then in the full strength of early manhood, seven-and-twenty, the " Scottish uncelebrated Ir- ving," whom his great countryman regretfully commemorates. His remarkable appearance 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 immediate circle surrounding him, tells how she herself, on one occasion, being particularly engaged in some domestic duties, had given orders to her servants not to admit any visitors. She was interrupted in her occupation, however, notwithstanding this order, by the entrance of one of her maids, in a state of high excitement and curiosity. " Mem ! " burst forth the girl, "there's a wonder- ful grand gentleman called : I couldna say you were engaged to Mm. I think he maun be a Highland Chief! " " That Mr Irving ! " exclaimed another individual of less elevated and poetical conceptions " 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 saying about your new assistant ? They say he's like a brigand chief." 52 DR CHALMERS'S HELPER. " Well, well," said Dr Chalmers, with a smile, " whatever they say, they never think him like anything but a leader of men." Such was the impression he produced upon the little mercantile-ecclesiastical world of Glasgow. There, as every- where, people were instinctively suspicious of this strange unconventional figure did not know what to make of the natural grandeur about him the lofty fashion of speech into which he had already fallen, and which seems to have been en- tirely appropriate to the garb and aspect in which nature had clothed him. But he found warm friends here, as everywhere, and by means of all his qualities, mental and bodily, his frank- ness and warmth, and habit of making himself the friend of the humblest individual he encountered, his splendid person and stately manners, took the hearts of the poor by storm. They are now dying out of those closes and" wynds 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, though a man of the warmest humanity, had at all times a certain abstract intentness about him, which must have altered the character of individual kind- ness as coming from his hands. His parishioners were to him emphatically his parishioners, the " body " (not vile, perhaps ; but still more profoundly important for the expe- riment's sake than for its own) upon which one of the most magnificent of experiments was to be tried. But to Irving they were the Johns and Sandies, the Campbells and Macalis- ters, the human neighbours who were of his personal ac- quaintance and individually interesting to himself. 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 proba- tioner, unordained, without any rights in the Church except the license to preach, which was his sole qualification. He was not responsible for any part of the working of that huge machinery w T hich Dr Chalmers bore up on his Herculean shoulders, and which naturally collapsed when his mighty vital force was withdrawn. The " helper " went about more lightly, 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 trou- blous condition. "Want of work and want of food had wrought their natural social effect upon the industrious classes ; and the eyes of the hungry weavers and cotton-spinners were turned with spasmodic anxiety to those wild political quack remedies, IRVING' s POLITICAL. SENTIMENTS. 53 -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 throughout with deep-seated complaint and grievance, to which the starv- ing revolutionaries in such towns as Glasgow acted only as a kind of safety-valve, preventing a worse explosion. The dis- content was drawing towards its climax when Irving received his appointment as assistant to the minister of St John's. In such a large poor parish he encountered on all sides the mutterings of the popular storm. Chalmers, always liberal and statesmanlike, saw the real grievance, which finally la- boured and struggled, through the contest of years, into that full redress and establishment of popular rights which seems to make any such crisis impossible now. But Irving's mind was of a different construction. He was one of those men of inconsistent politics, governed at once by prejudices and sym- pathies, whose " attitude " it is impossible to foretell ; and of whom one can only predict that their political opinions will take the colour given by their heart ; and that the side most strongly and feelingly set forth before them will undoubtedly carry the day. His nature was profoundly conservative ; and yet the boldest innovation might have secured his devoted support, had it approved itself to his individual thoughts. His political opinions, indeed, seem to have been such as are com- mon to literary men, artists, and women, entirely unconnected with politics, and who only now and then find themselves sufficiently interested to inform themselves upon public mat- ters. Accordingly, he appears in after-life in strong opposition to every measure known as liberal ; while in Glasgow, with those poor revolutionary weavers round him on every side, his heart convincing him of their miseries and despair, and his profound trust, not in human nature, but in the human crea- tures 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. Nothing less than the horrors -of the Prench Revolution battle and murder 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, declares, solemnly, that " if the complaints of the people are repressed with insults and menaces if no step is taken to relieve 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 54 STATE OF THE COUNTRY IN GENERAL. other answer than preparations to put them down by force, then indeed we may soon have a civil Avar 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 secure peace ; and which must end, or rather begin, with the final and complete subversion of those liberties and that constitution which has hitherto been our pride, our treasure, and our sup- port 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 pertinacious and maddest of all revolutionaries, who never fails to revenge bitterly the careless- ness which lets him enter our well-defended doors, he was there, wolfish and seditious, in Glasgow in the winter of 1819, 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 dismal little tragi-ccmedy of Bonnymuir some months later, and there be made a melancholy end of. But while everybody else was prophesying horrors, it is thus that Irving, with tender domestic prefaces of kindness and congratulation, writes to his brother-in-law, Mr. Fergusson, a few months after his arrival in Glasgow. " You will look for Glasgow intelligence, and truly I can neither get nor give any. If I should report from my daily ministrations among the poorest class and the worst reported -of class of our population, 1 should deliver an opinion so unfavourable as it would be hardly safe for myself to deliver, lest I should be held a radical likewise. 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 found 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 starva- tion. Yet we are armed against them to the teeth ; and the alarm took so generally that, for all my convictions 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 THE CALTON WEAVERS. 55 alarms. But from Monday to Saturday I am going amongst them with- out the slightest apprehension ; but perhaps I may be convinced by point of pike some day, which I pray may be averted forhis 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 . . . .1 hope my father and you won't forget your Glasgow 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, IRVING." 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 difference between the manner in which this opinion is expressed, and Dr Chalmers's deliverance 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 ex- tensive minglings with the people," says Dr Chalmers, " I am quite confident in affirming the power of another expedient (that is, besides the repeal of certain specified taxes) to be such, that it would operate with all the quickness and eifect of a charm in lulling their agitated spirits : I mean the repeal of the Corn Bill. I have ever been in the habit of disliking the interference of the legislature in matters of trade, saving for the purpose of a revenue." Irving has no theories of cure on hand. His thoughts do not embrace the polity of nations. He has not contemplated that troubled sea to divine what secret current it is which heaves its billows into storm. He goes down among the crowds which are made of flesh and blood ; he stands among them and calls out with courageous tender voice that they are all men like others ; men trustful and cordial ; kind to himself, open to kindness ; whom it be- hoves their neighbours to treat, not with the cruelty of fear, but, "with tenderness and feeling, as ivell is due," he adds with manly and touching simplicity, " ^vhen you see people in the midst of nakedness and starvation." A greater contrast in agreement could scarcely be. This Glasgow parish had come to singular fortune at that moment. After much labour and many exertions, Chalmers, 56 THE PARISH OF ST JOHX. 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 well known are apt enough to glide into vagueness from that very reason, it may not be amiss to repeat, in the simplest manner, what it was. The truth was simply that he had been born, like other men of his generation, into a primitive Scotland, comparatively little affected by English usages and manners a self-sup- porting, independent nation, ignorant of poor-laws and work- houses, and full of strenuous hatred to all such hateful charities. During all the centuries of Presbyterianism, " the plate," or weekly offering 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 Chalmers fixed with characteristic 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 emer- gencies, and able from his high position and influence to bring, half by coercion of moral force, half by persuasion, the Glas- gow 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, should be handed over to him in undisturbed possession, swept clean of all poor-rates, workhouses, and public 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 believed in him. In this parish Chalmers set \ip the most surprising, splendid autocracy that has ever been at- tempted an autocracy solely directed to the benefit of that little world of people in the most unlovely portion of Glasgow. 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 10,804 souls. The condition in life of most among them was that of weavers, labourers, and factory -workers. 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, failure of work, and all the casualties of accident and disease would, according to ordinary calculations, leave a THE SHOEMAKER. 57 large margin of inevitable pauperism in such a district. But the minister-autocrat had sworn that pauperism was to be no longer, and he made good his word. For three brilliant years "the plate" not only supplied 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 wonderful imperious vitality of this great man could go on without a new impulse, its success continued as perfect as it was extraordinary. 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 civilization which crush the poor, into that primitive life 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 resemblance. Statesmanship was not in him ; but admiration and loyal service were of his very essence. Without any ulterior views, he visited those " three hundred families," won their confidence and friendship, in most cases readily enough ; and when that was not the case, took them captive by innocent wiles and premeditation. One such case, which must have been a remarkable one, is told in so many different versions, that it is difficult to decide which is the true one. A certain shoemaker, radical and infidel, was among the number of those under Irving's special care ; a home-workman of course, always present, silent, with his back turned upon the visitors, and refusing any communication except a sullen Jiumplt of implied criticism, while his trembling wife made her depre- cating curtsy in the foreground. The way in which this in- tractable individual was finally won over, is attributed by some tellers of the story to a sudden 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 somewhat skilled terms. The shoemaker went on with redoubled indus- try at his work ; but at last, roused and exasperated by the speech and pretence of knowledge, demanded, in great contempt, but without raising his eyes, " What do ye ken about leather ? " This was just the opportunity his assailant wanted ; for Irving, though a minister and a scholar, was a tanner's son, and could discourse learnedly upon that material. Gradually interested and mollified, the cobbler slackened work, and listened while his visitor described some process of making shoes by machinery, which he had carefully got up for the purpose. At last the 58 " HE KENS ABOUT LEATHER." shoemaker so far forgot his caution as to suspend his work altogether, and lift 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' fellow ! do you preach ? " said the vanquished, curious to know more of his victor. The advantage was discreetly, but not too hotly pursued ; and on the follow- ing Sunday the rebel made a defiant, shy appearance at church. Next day Irving encountered him in the savoury Gallowgate r and hailed him as a friend. Walking beside him in natural talk, the tall probationer laid his handupon the shirt-sleeve of the shrunken sedentary workman, and marched by his side along the well-frequented street. By the time they had reached 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 ac- quired that suit of Sunday " blacks " so dear to the heart of the poor Scotchman, and became a church-goer and respectable member of society ; while his acknowledgment of his con- queror was conveyed with characteristic reticence, and conceal- ment of all deeper feeling, in the self-excusing pretence "He's a sensible man, yon ; he kens about leather ? " The preacher who knew about leather had, however, in con- junction with that cordiality which won the shoemaker's heart, a solemnity and apostolic demeanour which might have looked like affectation in another man, and has, indeed, been called affectation even in Irving by those who did not know him ; though never by any man who did. Probably his long, silent contemplation of that solitary mission which he had set his heart on, had made him frame his very manner and address ac- cording to apostolic rule. When he entered those sombre apartments in the Grallowgate, it was with the salutation, " Peace be to this house," with which he might have entered a Persian palace or desert tent. " It was very peculiar, a thing that no- body else did," says a simple-minded member of Dr Chalmers's agency ; " it was impossible not to remark it, out of the way as it was ; but there was not one of the agency could make an objection to it. It took the people'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 edifyingly, sometimes tediously, was not uncommon to the Glasgow poor ; but to be blessed was a novelty to them. Perhaps if the idea had been pursued into the depths of their minds, these Presbyterians, all retaining something of ecclesiastical knowledge, however little- INTERCOURSE WITH THE POOR. 59' religion they might have, would have been disposed to deny the right of any man to assume that priestly power of blessing. Irving, however, did not enter into any discussion of the sub- ject. It was his habitual practice ; and the 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 solemnity, the ancient benediction, " The Lord bless thee and keep thee," over each of them a practice startling to Scotch ears, but acquiesced in involuntarily as natural to the man who, all solitary and indi- vidual 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 simplicity 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 partaker of their confi- dence, and a witness of the hardships they had to endure. In the scan- tiest 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 encroaching ne- cessity ; 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 God 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, and sweeten it with the balm of resignation often enlarge it with cheerful hope, sometimes swell it high with the rejoicings of a Christian triumph." A more affecting picture of the position of the Christian visitor, "with little or no means to relieve," except by sym- 60 A LEGACY. pathy, and testimony to the consolatory uses of the gospel, was never made. There does not exist human misery under the sun which would not be cheered and softened by such ministra- tions. He 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 break- ing of the bread of sorrow, could never fail to find his way into their hearts. He was not always, however, without silver or gold of his own to bestow. A little 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 little 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 into the one-pound notes current in Scotland, deposited them in his desk, and every morning, as long as they lasted, put one into his pocket vrhen he went out to his visita- tions. The legacy lasted just as many days as it was pounds in value, and doubtless produced as much pleasure to its owner as ever was purchased by money. What 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 wiser. It melted into gleams of comfort, transitory but precious ; and he who shared 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 functions among the poor. He had learned it theoretically from no other teacher than his own heart. But 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 entertainers lords and princes. Such a gift of brotherhood, however, 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 InmseV the day." Nothing better was to be looked for when TiimseV was such a man as Chalmers ; and if his assistant felt at all sore on the TWO PRESBYTERS. 61 subject, his mortification must have been much allayed by the unrivalled gifts of his great colleague. There is, however, no sign of soreness or mortification in him. A brilliant 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 smiled to his companions, not without an appreciation of the joke, when the good people came out of the church door because it was " no himsel'." He did not forget what he had said, that if this people bore with him, they were the first who ever would ; nor did he hesitate to repeat that " this congregation is almost the first in which our preaching was tolerated," and even that still, " we know, on the other hand, that our imper- fections have not been hid from your eyes." Yet this unpo- pularity, admitted with frankness so unusual, and perhaps ex- cessive, was by no means universal. "Within the great assembly who venerated Dr Chalmers was a smaller circle who looked upon Irving with all the enthusiastic admiration naturally given to a man whose merits the admirer himself has been the first to find out. "Irving's preaching," said Dr Chalmers, evidently not with any very great admiration of it, " is like Italian music, appreciated only by connoisseurs." But he does not hesitate to compare the influence of his assistant, on another and more cordial 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. On the whole, Dr Chalmers's opinion of him is the opinion of one who only half understands, and does not more than half sympathize 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 watches the poet-enthusiast with a doubtful, troubled, half-amused, half-sad perplexity ; likes him, yet does not know what he would be at ; is embar- rassed by his warm love, praise, and gratitude ; vexed to see him commit himself; impatient of what he himself thinks cre- dulity, vanity, waste of power ; but never without a sober, regretful affection for the bright, unsteady light that could not be persuaded to shine only in its proper lantern. This sort of admiring, indulgent, affectionate half-comprehension 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 instinct- ive comprehensions and graces which went high over the head ^2 HOLIDAY ADVENTURES. 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 influence, legislating for his parish in bold in- dependence, perhaps the only real Autocrat of his day ; Irving, almost loitering about the unlovely streets, open to all the in- dividual interests thereabouts ; learned in the names, the stories, the peculiarities of his three hundred families ; still 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. The year after his arrival in Glasgow he made another visit to Ireland, which was attended by one amusing result, upon which his friends often rallied him. He had made an appoint- ment 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 while 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. The accommodations of Gavin Irviug's house 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 handsome sisters had to exert herself in this emergency. She showed the young stranger the way to the waterside, and all the modest beauties of the little 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 astonishing but very happy conclusion, as it turned out, to his own carelessness. At another holiday-time Irving accompanied a member of his congregation in some half-pleasure, half-business excursion in a gig. During this journey the pair were about to drive down a steep descent, when Irving, whose skill as a driver was not great, managed to secure the reins, and accomplished the descent at so amazing a pace that several of a little party of soldiers, who were crossing a bridge at the foot of the hill, were driven into the stream by the vehemence of the unes- SIMPLICITY OF HEART. 63 pected charge. Some little distance furtlier on, the gig and the travellers paused at a roadside inn, into the public 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 opportunity of conversation offered, one of the two addressed Irving. " This man," said the skilful Scotch conversationalist, " thinks he's the wisest man in a' the regi- ment. "What do ye think, sir ? He says you're the great Dr Ohalmers." " And do you really think," asked Irving, with an appeal to the candour of this inquiring mind, " that I look like a minister ? " " My certy, no ! " cried the simple-minded war- rior ; " or you wouldna drive like yon ! " Such comic lights, often dwelt upon and much appreciated by bis friends, played about this unusual figure, necessary ac- companiments of its singular aspect. To his intimates he opened his heart so freely, and exhibited all his peculiarities after so transparent a fashion, that those points of his character which might have appeared defects to the eyes of strangers, grew dear to those who loved him, originating as they did in his own perfect affectionateness and sincerity. " He was vain, there is no denying 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 simplicity and desire to be loved ; his crystal transparency of character letting every little weakness show through it as frankly as his noblest quali- ties ; and, above all, out of his loyal, his divine trust in the absolute truth and sincerity, and the generous sympathy and good-will, of all who made friendly 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 language "such as grave livers do in Scotland use," with a natural pomp of diction at all times ; and took a certain 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 ap- pearance which he made at a Glasgow dinner-party. A young man was present who had permitted himself to talk pro- fanely, in a manner now unknown, and which would not be tolerated in any party now-a-days. After expending all his little wit upon priestcraft and its inventions, this youth, 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 listeners. " My friends," he said, " I will make no reply 64 CONVICTS IN GLASGOW JAIL. to tliis unhappy 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 instinctively obeyed, Irving rose up to his full majestic height, and solemnly commended the offender to the forgiveness of God. Whether this incident really oc- curred I cannot tell ; 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 unceasing ; 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 required. "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 invitations, 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 ministrations which were at the period considered rather beneath the dignity of ministers of the Church. Irving had also the charge of visiting the convicts in prison ; and is said to have done so on some occasions with great effect. One of those unhappy persons had been condemned for a murder, though strenuously denying his guilt. After his conviction the unhappy man succeeded in interesting his visitor by his assertions of innocence ; and when Irving left the prison, it was to plunge into the dens of the Gallowgate, taking with him as assistants a private friend of his o\vn, and a member of Dr Chalmers's agency to make a last anxious effort to discover whether any exculpatory evidence was to be found. The surviving member of that generous party remembers how they searched through the foul re- cesses 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 con- firmed instead of shaking, the justice of the conviction, and the bootless investigation was given up. 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 life y IN THE SHADE. 6ft 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 gown which Glasgow uses for aca- demical costume, recognized, with the intuition of youth, the high eloquence flashing over those slumbrous heads. But on the whole, the Glasgow congregation sat patronizingly quiet, and listened, 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 himself." Under such circumstances it was scarcely to be expected that they could do more than listen calmly to the addresses of the other preacher, whose manner, and looks, and mode of address were all undoubtedly ex- ceptional, and subject to criticism. Such a strain would have been impossible to any merely mortal audience ; so the good people drowsed through the afternoons, and were kind to Mr Irving ; they were very glad to hear the Doctor found him so serviceable among his poor ; that the agency made so good a report of him ; and that altogether he was likely to do well. They told the current stories of his gigantic form, and doubtful looks, and odd ways laughed at his impetuous individuality with kindness, but amusement and had as little idea of the fame he was to reach, as of any other in- comprehensible event. The profound unconsciousness in which this strange little community, all dominated and go- verned by their leader and his 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 intro- duces so dramatically in accounting for the recognition of his hero Bertram, in Guy Mannering, by the postilion, who had seen him without an idea of recognizing him before. " "Wha was thinking o' auld Ellangowan then ? " says Jock Jabos. The 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 in the shadow of his chief, and had a perception, by the way, of his stature and peculiarities. But who was thinking of genius or extraordinary endowments in Dr Chalmers's helper ? Their eyes had not been directed to him ; they saw him always in the shade, carrying out another man's ideas, and dominated by another man's superior influence; and this most natural and prevailing principle of human thought kept Irving obscure and unrevealed to their eyes. 66 HIS LOYALTY AND ADMIRATION. 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 ex- pression of regard for a master and leader was ever written than the dedication afterwards addressed to Dr Chalmers, in which he thanks God for " that dispensation which 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 ad- miration. While I laboured as your assistant, my labours were never weary ; they were never enoiigh to express my thankfulness to God for having associated me with such a man, and my aifection to the man with whom I was asso- ciated." To the same tenor is the tone of his farewell ser- mon, the first production which he ever gave to the press, and in which, not without much strenuous argument for the freedom of individual preaching, his favourite and oft-re- peated theme, he acknowledges " the burden of my obliga- tions to my God," in respect to his residence in Glasgow. "He has given me," says the preacher, his heart swelling with all the gratitude and affection which kindness always produced in him, and the warm impulse of his nature casting all drawbacks behind, " the fellowship of a man mighty in his Church, an approving congregation of his people, the attachment of a populous corner of his vineyard. I ask no more of Heaven for the future but to grant me the con- tinuance of the portion which, by the space of three years, I have here enjoyed. But this I need not expect. Never again shall I find another man of transcendent genius whom I can love as much as I admire into whose house I can go in and out like a son whom I can revere as a father, and serve with the devotion of a child never shall I find another hundred consociated men of piety, and by free-will conso- ciated, whose every sentiment I can adopt, and whose every scheme I can find delight to second. And I feel I shall never find another parish of ten thousand into every house of which I was 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 ; his almost disgust with a subordination which had now exceeded the natural period of probation. It was no part of Irving's temper to acknowledge any such restraint. "What he said in the fullest, grateful sincerity, he did not THE DARK SIDE. 67 -stumble and choke over because he was aware of having on another occasion expressed, with equal warmth, another phase of feeling, equally sincere, though apparently inconsistent. That he should have been content with the position which he describes in such glowing colours would have been simply unnatural. He had now attained the age when it becomes necessary for a man to do what he has to do in this world for himself, and not for another: he was approaching the completion of his thirtieth year. Nature herself protested that -he could remain no longer dependent and secondary ; and that it was time to be done with probationary efforts. His 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 gradu- ally becoming impossible to Irving. At the very moment when he recognized with generous enthusiasm the advantages of his position, he felt its limits and confinements 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 probation, 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 to Kingston, in Jamaica, to a Presbyterian congregation there, and is said to have taken it into serious consideration, and only to have been deterred from 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 G-od has ordained to every man ? And failing that, his ancient missionary thoughts returned to his mind. I cannot 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 mo- ment he always recurred when his path became dark or impracticable. I could fancy it a suggestion of Heaven to turn aside his feet, while it was yet possible, from that fiery ordeal and passage of agony through which his course lay. The same thoughts, which once filled his chamber in Bristo Street, came back in the winter of 1821, when, after two years' labour in Glasgow, he saw himself no further advanced 68 THE CALEDONIAN CHAPEL, HATTON GARDEN. in his independent way than when, full of hopes, he had corne 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 ? Again he saw himself going forth forlorn, giving up all things for his Lord ; carrying the gospel afar, over distant mountains, distant plains, into the far Eastern wastes. It was an enterprise to make the heart beat and swell, but it was death to all human hopes. When he grasped that cross the roses and laurels would fade out of his expectation for ever. Love and fame must both be left behind. It was in him to leave them behind, 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 own words that it would be worse than vanity to use any other : "The Caledonian Church had been placed under the pastoral care of two worthy ministers, who were successively called to parochial charges in the Church of Scotland ; and by their removal, and for want of a stated ministry, it was reduced to great and almost hopeless straits. But faith hopeth against hope, and when it does so, never faileth to be rewarded. This was proved in the case of those two men whose names I have singled out from your number, to give them that honour to which they are entitled in the face of the congregation. Having heard through a friend of theirs, and now also of mine, but at that time un- known 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 re- volving in my mind purposes of missionary work, this stranger stepped in upon my musing, and opened to me the commission with which he had oeen 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 efl'ect : ' If the times permitted, and your necessities required that I should not only preach the gospel without being burdensome 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. 3 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 congregation which still held together." * * Dedication of the Last Days to W. Dinwiddie, Esq., Father of the Session of the National Scotch Church ; "W. Hamilton, Esq., Secretary of the TRVING'S PLEASURE IN HIS RECEPTION AT LONDON. 69 His own appreciation of his welcome in London, and the hopes excited in his mind by this new development of affairs, may be learnt from the following letter, addressed to his much-regarded pupil and friend Miss "Welsh. " Glasgow, 34, Kent Street, 9th February, 1822. "Mr DEAR AND LOVELY PUPIL, "When I am my own master, de- livered from the necessity of attending to engagements, ever soliciting me upon 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 obligations which it feels to those at a distance. Do excuse me, I pray you, by the memory of our old acquaintance, and anything 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 my worthy father. Forget and forgive it ; and let us be established 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 sympathize 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 success, 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 correspond- ent * may yet be realized. I have been solicited to publish a discourse which I delivered before his Royal Highness the Duke of York ; but have refused till my apprehensions of truth be larger, and my treatment of it more according 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 Royal Highness. 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 in action. And so, you see, I have reason to be vain. " But these things, my dear Jane, delight me not, save as vouchsafe- ments of my Maker's bounty, the greater because the more undeserved. Were I established in the love and obedience of Him, I should rise tower- ingly aloft into the regions 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 ambitions 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 express my attachment in every letter. May you live worthy of each other, mutual Committee for building the National Scotch Church ; and to the other mem- bers of the Session and Committee. * He refers to his young friend's affectionate prophecies of his future fame. 70 OBSTACLES. stays through life, doubly endeared, because alone together ; and there- fore doubly dutiful to Him who is the Husband of the widow, and the Tather 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, oifer my benedictions 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." " "Wherewith " (namely, with the trial of his gifts) " being . satisfied," he continues, in the dedication already quoted, " I took my journey homewards, waiting the good pleasure of the great Head of the Church. Many were the difficulties and obstacles which Satan threw in the way, and which threatened hard to defeat altogether our desire and our pur- pose of being united in one. Amongst others, one, which would have deterred many men, was my inability to preach in the Gaelic tongue, of which I knew not a word." This absurd stipulation originated in the connection of the Cale- donian Chapel, with the Caledonian Asylum, the directors of which are those whom he records as having thanked him, formally an institution originally intended for the orphan children of soldiers and sailors, and of whose office-bearers the Duke of Tork, the Commander-in- Chief, was president. This institution is still in existence, and until the disruption of the Church of Scotland, still sent its detachments of children into the galleries of the National Scotch Church, built to replace the little Caledonian Chapel. But at that period it was its connection with the great charity which alone gave the little chapel importance. Other Scotch churches, more flourishing and prosperous, were in exist- ence ; but the chapel in Hatton Garden had a trifling parlia- mentary allowance, in direct consideration of its connection with the Asylum, and the minister's power of preaching Gaelic. This initial difficulty called forth from Irving the following characteristic letter : " To my honoured friends, Mr Dinwiddie, Mr Simpson, Mr Robertson, Mr Hamilton, 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. " GENTLEMEN, 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. PLEDGES HIMSELF TO LEARN GAELIC. 71 " First. Let my interest be as nothing. The Lord will provide 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 l)r Mason at least are writing 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 God alone. " Secondly. But if, for the interests of your own souls, and re- ligion 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 countrymen, I pledge myself to study Gaelic ; and if I cannot write it and preach it in six months, I give them my missive to be burdensome to them no longer. There was a time when the consciousness of my own powers would have made it seem as meanness so to condescend ; but now the lowness of condescen- sion for Christ's sake I feel to be the height of honour. ' . "-Fourthly. But if not, and you are meditating, as Mr Hamilton says, to obtain another place of worship to which to call me, then be assured I shall not be difficidt 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, my 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 . "Tour obliged and affectionate friend,- "EDWARD IKYING." "Glasgow, 21st February, 1822." Trie Directors of the Caledonian Asylum were not, ever, " so far left to themselves," as we say in Scotland, as to insist upon the six months of Gaelic study thus heroically volunteered. The Duke of Tork exerted his influence to set aside the stipulation ; and after it had answered its purpose in stimulating the warmth of both parties, and adding a little more suspense and uncertainty to Irving's long probation, the difficulty was overcome. Or rather, to use his own words, " Grod, 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 of Scotland not to ordain any minister over a congregation until they are 72 BOND REQUIRED BY THE PRESBYTERY. first certified that the people are able and prepared to pro- vide him with a fit income "to give him a livelihood," 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 certain rate which the office- bearers pledge themselves to maintain. This was a difficult point for the poor little 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 consequence demurred to the ordination ; and once more the matter came to a temporary stand-still. Irving, however, was less prudent than the Presbytery. " I am doing my utmost to get the Presbytery to consent to my ordination without a bond, and 1 hope to succeed," he writes to Mr \V. Hamilton, one of the principal members of the Caledonian Chapel. " 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 elsewhere, or ap- ply for it after. But I augur better." The " bond," however, which Irving, generous and im- petuous, would have been well content to dispense with, but which the prudent Presbytery insisted upon, was at length procured. " Another obstacle to my ordination your readi- ness," says Irving in the dedication already quoted, " with- out 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 G-od, who useth us, in any way, however humble, for the accomplish- ment of His good purposes." Everything was now settled, and only the necessary ec- clesiastical 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 with cold wonder, and treated as boasts and braggadocio ; but under- stood and believed by some. And the only evidence of other sentiments which appears in his correspondence contained in a letter to Dr Martin, evidently written in a moment of depression still characteristically exhibits the high pitch of his anticipations. " There are a few things which bind me ROSNEATH. 73 to the world, and but a very few," writes the young man in this effusion of momentary weariness ; " one is to make a demonstration for a higher style of Christianity, something more magnanimous, more heroical than this age affects. God knows with what success." These wonderful prophetic words, written in some moment of revulsion, when the very height of satisfaction and triumph had brought a sudden depth of temporary depression to his sensitive soul, are the only visible trace of those clouds Avhich can never be wholly banished from the brightest firmament. During the last week of his residence in Glasgow, he went to Rosneath to visit and take farewell of his friend Mr Story, accompanied by another clerical friend, who went with him in wonder and dread, often inquiring how the farewell sermon, which was to be delivered on Sunday, could come into being. This good man perceived with dismay that Irving was not occupied about his farewell sermon, and declared with friendly vexation that if anything worthy of a leave-taking with the people of St John's was produced by the departing preacher under such circumstances, he would prove himself " the cleverest man in Scotland." Irving, however, was not dismayed. He went joyfully over loch and hill in that sweet holiday of hope. The world was all before him, and everything was possible. No more limits except those of the truth, nor ob- literation under another man's shadow. All this time he had been but painfully fitting and putting his armour together ; now he was already close to the lists, and heard the trumpets of the battle, with laughter like that of the war-horse ; a little longer, and he should be in the field. One day in this happy period, when going about the country with his friend, Irving, active, as of old, and full of glee and energy, leaped a gate which interposed in their way. This feat took the minister of Rosneath a little by surprise, as was natural. " Dear me, Irving," he exclaimed, " I did not think you had been so agile." Irving turned upon him immediately, " Once I read you an essay of mine," said the preacher, " and you said, ' 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 imagination.' Now you shall see what great things I will do yet ! " In this state of exulting expectation, he was not more pa- tient 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 74 HAPPY ANTICIPATIONS. was always intolerant of the common stock of dry theology, and the certified soundness of dull 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 swell- ing 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 charac- teristic of the unconcealed exaltation of mind and hope in which he was. So he returned to Glasgow, still accompanied by the alarmed and anxious friend, who could get no satisfaction about his farewell sermon, such an occurrence as this solemn leave-taking, to which the little 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 little freedom and deliver- ance 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 communicate his thoughts without risk of the inevitable comparison, or the jealousy equally inevitable, of those who resented the idea of the assistant attempting to rival " the Doctor." He was now no longer Dr Chalmers's assistant, but a London minister elect; and when the bonds which bound him were unloosed, all the kindnesses of the past rushed warm upon the memory of the impulsive young man. He came into the pulpit glow- ing with a tender flush of gratitude; his discontent and weariness had dropped off from him, and existed no longer; he remembered only the love, the friendship, the good offices, the access he had obtained to many hearts. In that sermon, of which his companion despaired, the materials required little research or arrangement. The preacher had but to go back upon his own life of two years, seen in the warm re- viving light of farewell kindness. He stood up in that pulpit, 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 him ; and proclaimed the praises of his leader with a warmth and heartfelt fulness which dis- tressed and overwhelmed that sober Scotsman, unaccustomed to and disapproving of such demonstrations of attachment. Even upon that unenthusiastic and pre-occupied audience this farewell address seems to have made an impression. He OFFERS HIS SERVICES IN LONDON TO ALL. 75 left them at peace with all men ; and forgetting, as his affec- tionate temperament had a faculty for forgetting, all hi& 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, but warm, universal invitation to all. His house, his services, all that he could do, were freely pledged to whosoever of those parishioners might come to London and stand in need of him. He meant what he said, unguarded and imprudent as the expression was ; and the people instinctively 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 patronized 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 sympathizing 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. After this leave-taking Irving proceeded to Annan, to his father's house, there to appear once more before the Presbytery and go through his final "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. Immediately after his ordination he returned to Glasgow, and there assisted Dr Chalmers in the solemn and austere pomp (pomp, not certainly of outward accessories, yet it is the only word by which I can describe the importance given to the half-yearly occasion, the " sacramental season " of Scotch piety, separated as it is by long array of devotional services from the ordinary course of the year) of a Scottish communion. Irving himself describes this as " having ex- perienced of my dear friend Dr Chalmers the singular honour of administering the sacrament to his parish flock, being my first act as an ordained minister." It was a graceful conclu- sion 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 76 GOES TO LONDON. July, 1822, to London. The future seems to have glowed before him with the indefinite brightness of early youth. 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, Avittingly, 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 here- after, 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 lights 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. CHAPTEE VII. LONDON, 1822. " ON the second Sabbath of July, 1822," Irving began his labours in London. The fifty people who had signed his call, with such dependents 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 position was not one calculated to excite the holder of 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 to the very lowest ebb in point of numbers. Nor did Irving enter upon his career with those aids of private friendship which might make an ordinary man sanguine of increasing his estimation and social sphere. Sir David Wilkie records his belief that the new preacher had introductions only to him- self and Sir Peter Lawrie, neither of them likely to do much in the way of opening up London, great, proud, and critical, to the unknown Scotsman ; and though this statement may FIRST APPEARANCE. 77 not be entirely correct, yet it is evident that lie went with few recommendations, save to the little Scotch community amidst which, as : people supposed, he was to live and labour. There are stories extant .among that community still, con- .cerning the early beginnings, of his fame, which, after all that has passed since, are; sadly amusing ,and strange, with their .dim recognition of some popular qualities in the new minister, and mutual congratulations 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 little chapel where the stranger preached his first sermon. When the devotional services were over, begin- ning 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 his sermon the following words : " Therefore came I unto you without gainsaying, as soon as I was sent for. I ask you, therefore, for what intent you have sent for me?" The sermon has not been preserved, so far as I am aware ; but the text remembered as almost all Irving' s texts are remembered conveys all the picturesque reality 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 degrees the little chapel began to fill. So far as appears, there was nobody of the least distinction connected with the place ; and it is hard to understand how the great world came so much as to hear of the existence of the new popularity. About a month later, Dr Chalmers, then making one of his rapid journeys through England, collecting the statistics of pauperism, came to London for the purpose of " intro- ducing," 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 prized friend of the new preacher who simply officiates for him, and in his sermon takes the opportunity of recom- mending, in such terms as his friendship suggests, the young 78 CHALMERS IN LONDON. pastor to the love and esteem of 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 taking with his charge. He speculates as much as before on the modes of preaching ; is quite independent with his own people, and has most favourably impressed such men as Zachary Macaulay and Mr Cunningham with the concep- tion 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 his opening of good society to his friend and disciple. The two returned together to Irving's lodgings after this dinner, 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 his 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 imprudent liberality 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, respectable-looking young man," says the compassion- ate preacher, who refers him, in a letter full of beseeching sympathy, to his universal assistant and resource in all troubles the good "William Hamilton. Such petitioners came in multitudes through all his after-life receiving sometimes hospitality, sometimes advice recommendations to other people more likely 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 entirely characteristic of a man who would have served and entertained the entire world, if he could. The next Sunday, when Dr Chalmers preached, the little Cross Street church was, of course, crowded. Wilkie, the most tenacious of Scotsmen, had been already led to attend- ance upon Irving's ministrations, and was there, accompanied by Sir Thomas Lawrence, to hear his still greater countryman. PROGRESS IN POPULARITY. 79 But the brilliant crowd knew nothing yet of the other figure in that pulpit ; and went as it came, a passing meteor. After this, Dr Chalmers concludes his estimate of his former colleague's condition and prospects in the following words : " Mr Irving I left at Homerton, 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 com- mand and congeniality whereunto you have long known him to aspire. I hope that he will not hurt his usefulness by any kind of eccentricity or imprudence." In these odd and characteristic words Dr Chalmers, always a little impatient and puzzled even in his kindest moments about a man so undeniably eminent, yet so entirely unlike himself, dismisses Irving, and proceeds upon his statistical inquiries. Meanwhile, in this station of" command and congeniality," as Chalmers so oddly terms it, Irving made swift and steady way. Writing at a later period to his congregation, he men- tions 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 congre- gation were much earlier aware of the exceeding commotion and interest awakening around them. The immediate origin of Irving's popularity, or rather of the flood of noble and fashionable hearers who poured in upon the little chapel in Hatton 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 unex- pected circumstance led to hear the new preacher, and heard Irving in his prayer describe an unknown family of orphans belonging to the obscure congregation, as now " thrown upon the fatherhood of God." The words seized upon the mind of the philosopher, and he repeated them to Canning, who " started," as Mackintosh relates, and expressing great ad- miration, made an instant engagement to accompany hia friend to the Scotch church on the following Sunday. Shortly after, a discussion took place in the House of Com- mons, in which the revenues of the Church were referred to, and the necessary mercantile relation between high talent and good pay insisted upon. No doubt it suited the states- man'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 had lately heard a Scotch minister, trained in one of the most poorly endowed of churches, and established in one of her outlying dependencies, possessed of no endowment 80 HAPPY OBSCURITY. 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 invasion 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 Sab- bath of July, 1822, our union went on cementing itself by mutual acts of kindness in the shade of that happy obscurity which we then enjoyed. And I delight to remember that season of our early love and confidence, because the noisy tongues of men and their envious eyes were not upon us." With the best will in the world newspapers can take but little notice of a popular preacher, and periodicals of higher rank none at all, so that it was merely private criticism which commented upon the great new voice rising up in the heart of London. Besides the vague general facts of the rapidly raised enthusiasm, of applications for seats in the little Cale- donian chapel, which would only accommodate about six hundred people, rising in one quarter to fifteen hundred, and Irving's own simple and gratified intimation that " the church overflows every day," there is very little certain information to be obtained of that first year of his progress in London. Thirty Sermons, taken down in shorthand by W. J. Oxford, but published 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 the moment of his death contains the only record remaining to us of his early eloquence. Nobody who reads these sermons, imperfect as they must be from the channel through which they come, will wonder at the rising glow of excitement which, when a second year set in, brought all London struggling for places to the little Scotch church, already fully occupied by its own largely increased congregation. They have, it is true, no factitious attractions, and genius, all warm and eloquent, has preached before without 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 pro- clamations of his 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 THE "HAPPY WARRIOR." 81 all London, and the fascination of which never wholly faded from Irving's impassioned lips, 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 entire 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. Nor is it possible to read the few letters of this period, especially those above quoted, without feeling the deep satisfaction and content which at last possessed him, and the stimulus given to all his faculties by this profound consciousness of having attained the place suitable for him and the work which he could do. A long breath of satisfaction expands the breast which has so often swelled with the wistful sighs of longing and deferred hope. He is the " happy warrior " at length able to work out his life " upon the plan that pleased his youthful thought ; " and his descriptions of his studies and the assiduity with which he set to work his very self-examina- tions 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, look- ing forward with all the deep eagerness of an ambition Avhich sought not its own advancement a man to whom God had granted the desire of his heart. Few men con- sciously understand and acknowledge the fulness of this blessing, which indeed is not often conferred. Most people, indeed, find the position they had hoped and longed for, to fall far short of their hopes when it is attained. Irving was an exception to this common rule of humanity. He had reached the point to which he had been struggling, and amid all the joyful stir of his faculties to fill his place worthily, he never hesitates nor grudges to make full acknowledgment 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 unhesitating words, and even more by a certain swell of heroic joy and content in everything he does and says, he testifies his thankfulness. It is no longer a man struggling, as most men do, through ungenial circum- stances and adverse 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. 6 82 HIS FIRST HOUSEHOLD. "With this buoyant and joyful satisfaction, however, no- mean motives mingled. Irving's temper was eminently social. He could not live without having people round him to love, and still more to admire and reverence, 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 little out of that most respectable of localities, he went further off instead of nearer the world of fashion, and settled in Myddelton Terrace, 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 into contact with Allan Cunningham, a still closer countryman of his own. Thus he made gradual advances into the friendship and knowledge of the people about him ; and with his young brother sharing his lodging and calling out his affectionate cares, with daily studies close and persevering as those he has himself recorded ; with the little church Sunday by Sun- day overflowing more fully till accidents began to happen in the narrow streets about Hatton Garden, and at last the concourse had to be regulated by wiles, and the delighted, but embarrassed, managers of the little Caledonian Chapel found an amount of occupation thrust upon their hands for which they were totally unprepared, and had to hold the doors of their little building like so many besieged posterns against the assaults of the crowd ; and with notable faces ap- pearing daily more frequent 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 simplicity, recognizing his success as openly as he had recognized the want of it r under which he suffered for so many silent years. THE ORATIONS. 83 CHAPTER VIII. 1823. THE second year of Irving's residence in London was one of the deepest importance, both to himself personally and to his reputation. It opened with the publication 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 religious body, but to the world which had gathered together to hear them, and to those who lead the crowd, the higher intellects and imaginations, whom neither religious 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. Something more, it was apparent, was required of him than merely con- gregational 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 publication he explains his own object with noble gravity, claiming for himself, with 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 originality in the treat- ment of his subject, and desiring to be heard, not in the ear of the Church 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, his own steady protest against the ordinary strain of pulpit teaching ; and with a startling earnestness which that long conviction, for which already he had suffered both hardships and injustice, explains and justifies better than anything else can do declares his knowledge of the great religious 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 charac- teristic frankness putting that first which was like 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 no- thing at all about the application and advantages of the 84 IRVING'S EXPERIMENT IN PREACHING. 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 religion 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 in- trusted." It cannot be surprising that such a beginning aroused at once all the antagonism with which innovations are generally regarded, and provoked those accusations of self-importance, self-exaltation, and vanity, which still are current among those who know nothing of the person they stigmatize. But not to say that he proves his case, which most unprejudiced readers will allow, nor that the grievance has gone on since his days, growing more and more intolerable, and calling forth many reproofs less serious but more bitter than Irving's, none who have accompanied us so far in this history, and perceived the exercises of patience which the preacher himself had to under- go, and the warm and strong conviction arising out of them which for years had hindered his awn advancement, will be sur- prised at the plain speaking with which he heralds his own first performance. To get at the true way of addressing men, he him- self had been for years a wearied listener and discouraged essay- ist 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 ques- tion. At this dazzling moment he had access to the highest intelligences in the country, the teachers, the governors, the authorities of the land, had sought him out in that wilderness of mediocre London which had not even the antiquity of the city, nor any recommendation whatever, but was lost in the smoke, the dust, the ignoble din and bustle. And why was such an audience unusual ? How was it that they were not oftener attracted, seized upon, made to hear Grod's Word and will, if need were, in spite of themselves ? Thinking it over, he comes to the conclusion, not that his own genius was the cause, but that his brethren had not found the true method, had not learned the most effective way of discharging their duty. " They prepare for teaching gipsies, for teaching 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 nobody can dispute, " for teaching ARGUMENT FOR JUDGMENT TO COME. 85 imaginative men, and political men, and legal men, and scientific men, who bear the world in hand ? This preparation, judging from what he saw around him every day, Irving was well justified in believing he himself had attained ; and he did not hesitate, while throwing himself boldly forth upon the world in a book a farther and swifter messenger than any voice to declare it plainly, the highest reason and excuse for the publication in which he now, with all the fervour and elo- quence of a personal communication, addressed all who had ears to hear. The preface to the Orations, which form the first part of the volume, is so characteristic and noble an expression of friendship, that it would be inexcusable to omit it. "To the Rev. Thomas Chalmers, D.D., Minister of St John's Church, Glasgow. " MY HONOURED 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 admiration. While I laboured as your assistant, my labours were never weary, they were never enough to express my thankfulness to God for having associated me with such a man, and my affection to the man with whom I was associated, I now labour in another field, among a people whom I love, and over whom God hath, by signs unequivocal, already blessed my ministry. You go to labour likewise in another vineyard, where may the Lord bless your retired meditations as he hath blessed your active operations. And may He likewise watch over the flock of our mutual solicitude, 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 not mingle with any literary or theological discussion this pure tribute of affection and gratitude which I render to you be- fore 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, Hatton Garden, July, 1823." The Argument for Judgment to come, a longer and more elaborate work, which occupies the larger half of the same volume, seems to have been specially suggested to the mind of the writer by the two Visions of Judgment of Southey and Byron. The profane flattery of the one, most humiliating tribute to both giver and receiver which the office of laureate has, in recent ages at least, extorted from any poet, and the disgusting parody of the other, excited in Irving all the indig- 86 ASSAILED BY CRITICS. nation and repugnance which was natural to a right-thinking and pious mind. His feeling on the subject seems warmer than those miserable productions were worthy of exciting ; but it is natural that a contemporary should regard such de- gradations of literature with a livelier indignation than it is possible to feel when natural oblivion has mercifully swallowed them up. The Argument was dedicated, like the Orations, to one of his earlier friends, the Rev. Eobert (afterwards well known as Dr) Gordon of Edinburgh ; this highest 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 him. in his career, but whom he distinguished from pure gratitude and friendship only. !UT scribed with these names, he sent his first venture into the yet untried world of literature, exposing himself freely, with all his undeniable, peculiarities both of mind and diction, to a flood of critics, probably never, before or since, so universally excited about any volume of religious addresses which ever came from the press. In spite of the universal assaults made against the book, the Orations and Argument ran into, a third edition in little more than as many months ; and remain, now that all their critics are forgotten, among the most notable examples of religious eloquence. But it is not our business to criticise these works, which have been long before the public, and can be still judged on their separate merits. The author, meanwhile, was approach- ing a crisis in his life still more important than the publication of his first book. Longer than the patriarch he had waited for his Rachel : and now an engagement, which had lasted, I be- lieve, eleven years, and had survived long separation, and many changes, both of circumstances and sentiment, was at length to be fulfilled. In the end of September, 1823, Irving left Lon- don and travelled by several successive stages to Kirkcaldy, where his bride awaited him. The Sunday before his marriage, being now no longer a private man, with his time at his own disposal, he went to Haddington to preach among his early friends. There, where he had made Ms youthful beginning in life, and where, when a probationer, he had preached with the ordinary result of half-contemptuous toleration, his coming now stirred all the little town into excite- ment. The boys who had been his pupils were now men, proud to recall themselves 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 IRVING'S MARRIAGE. 87 of his day. Wherever he went, indeed, he was hailed with that true Scottish approbation and delight 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 recollection that Scotland herself had not been the first to dis cover his great qualities. "Irving is in Scotland," writes Dr Gordon from Edin- burgh to Irving's friend, Mr Story. " I have seen him twice for a little. The same noble fellow and in spite of all his alleged egotism, a man of great simplicity and straightforwardness. He is to be married to-day, I believe, to Miss Martin, of Kirk- caldy." This was on the 13th of October. The long-engaged couple were married in that Manse of Kirkcaldy which had witnessed so many youthful chapters in Irving's life, and which was yet more to be associated with his deepest and most tender feelings. They were married by the grandfather of the bride, a venerable old man brother, as I believe has been already mentioned, of the celebrated Scotch painter, David Martin, whom the imagination of Scotland fondly holds as a second Reynolds and in his own person a man much venerated, the father of the clergy in his locality ; in the presence of a body of kindred worthy of a family in which three generations flourished together. I will not linger upon any description of Irving's wife. The character of a woman who has never volun- tarily brought herself before the public is sacred to her chil- dren 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 her, 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 lived for half of her life a widow indeed, in the exercise of all womanly and Christian virtues. If her admiration for his genius, 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 likely to exert upon him the beneficial influence of equals, and so con- tributed to the clouding of his genius, it is the only blame that has ever been 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 life. After this event a period of wandering followed, to refresh the fatigue of the preacher, after his first year-long conflict with that life of London which, sooner or later, kills almost 88 THE BRIDAL HOLIDAY. all its combatants. The bridal pair appear in glimpses over the summer country. One evening, sitting at the window of his quiet manse, at the mouth of one of the loveliest and softest lochs of Clyde, the minister of Rosneath saw a vast figure ap- proaching through the twilight, carrying an adjunct which seems to have secured immediate recognition a portmanteau on its Herculean shoulder. It was Irving, followed by his 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 'f " cried the astonished host as he hastened to welcome his unexpected visitors. " And I would like to know," answered the bride- groom, \vith all the gleeful consciousness of strength, stretch- ing out the mighty arms which he had just relieved, " which of your caitiffs could have carried it better ! " A little later the pair are at Annan, awakening in the hearts of young nephews and nieces there their earliest recollections of pleasure and jubilee. Irving was not preaching, so far as there is any record ; h.3 was idling and enjoying himself; and, with him, these words meant making others enjoy themselves, and leav- ing echoes of holiday everywhere. So late as the beginning of November he was still in Scotland in Glasgow r-where Dr Chalmers, at the height of his splendid social experiments, and in full possession of his unrivalled influence, a kind of 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, ex- cept 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 wonderful a sway. There Irving went to listen to the last sermon of his master in the ministry. The situation 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 dissatis- faction in his mind, a secondary place, so short a time before. A world of difference lay in the year of time which had passed since then. Chalmers himself had not turned the head of any community as his former assistant had turned the multitudi- nous heads of London. The 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 conquer- or and hero. Yet here again he stood so entirely in his old RE-APPEARANCE IN ST JOHN'S. 89 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 lived and laboured. Had he been the egotist he was called, or had he come in any vain- glorious hope of confounding 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 retire into the noiseless seclusion, or rather into the little 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 glori- ous 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, like 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 ser- mon," says Dr Hanna, his biographer, " it was entered by the Rev. Edward Irving, who invited the vast congregation to ac- company him, as with solemn pomp and impressive unction he poured out a prayer for that honoured minister of God who had just retired from among them." This momentary appear- ance in that familiar pulpit, not to display the eloquence which had made him famous since he last stood in it, but simply to crown with prayers and blessing the farewell of his friend, is the most graceful and touching conclusion which could have been given to Irving's connection with Glasgow ; or at least since after events have linked bis memory 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 house in Annan. Accompanied by some of their relations from thence, they posted to Carlisle, the modern conveniences of travel being then undreamt of. When they were about to cross the Sark, the little stream which at that point divides Scotland from England, Irving, with a pleasant bridegroom 90 HIS DEDICATIONS AND PREFACES GENERALLY. fancy, made his young wife alight and walk over the bridge into the new country which henceforward was to be her home. So this idyllic journey comes to an end. After the bridge of Sark and its moorland landscape, we see no more of the tra- vellers till they reappear in the bustle of London, where idyls have no existence. 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, with the charac- teristic preface which he prefixed to it. The critics who 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 pur suing an other through the press, and one blow after another ringing on his shield, the orator seized his flaming pen and wrote defiance to all his op- ponents, it is not difficult to imagine the kind of production which must have flashed from that pen of Irving. Allowing that an author's reply to criticism is always a mistaken and imprudent proceeding, and that Irving' s contempt and defiance are not written in perfect taste (angry as the expression would have made him) or charity, yet we should have been sorry not to have had the daring onslaught upon these troublesome skirmishers of literature, from whose stings, alas, neither greatness nor smallness can defend the unfortunate wayfarer ; and the dignified vindication of his own style and dicti&n, which is as noble and modest a profession of literary allegiance as can be found anywhere. " I have been accused of affecting the antiquated manner of ages and times now forgotten," he says in his defence. " The writers of those times are too much forgotten, I lament, and their style of writing hath fallen out of use ; but the time is fast approaching when this stigma shall be wiped away from our prose, as it is fast departing from our poetry. I fear not to confess that Hooker and Taylor and Baxter in Theology, Bacon and Newton and Locke in Philosophy, have been my companions, as Shakspeare and Spenser and Milton have been in poetry. I cannot 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. Which I have, in the strength of God, endeavoured to do." What 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 unlike ordinary prefaces, which authors go on writing with an amazing innocent faith in the MR BASIL MONTAGU. 91 attention of the public, and which few people ever dream of looking at, is one of the most eloquent and characteristic por- tions of the volume. Indeed, I know scarcely any volume of Irving's works of which this might not be said. In his dedica- tions and prefaces, he carries on a kind of rapid autobiography, and takes his reader into his heart and confidence, in those singular addresses, in a manner, so far as I am aware, quite unprecedented in literature. He was now fully launched upon the exciting and rapid course of London life a life which permits little leisure and less tranquillity to those embarked upon it. One of his earliest acquaintances was Mr Basil Montagu in whose 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 religious circles which admit nobody who does not come with certificates of theological soundness and propriety in his hand. Mr Montagu drew him to his own house, brought him into a circle above fashion, yet without its dangerous seductions, and introduced him to Cole- ridge and many other notable men. And Irving, brought into the warm and affectionate intercourse of such a household, and assisted, moreover, by that glamour which always remained in his own eyes and elevated everything he saw, learned to gain that acquaintance with men men of the highest type, men of a class with which hitherto he had been unfamiliar, in which the hereditary culture of generations had culminated, and which, full of thought and ripened knowledge, was not to be moved by ge- neralities which he could not have learned either in his second- ary 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 the soul ; how men are of an individuality all unthought 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 fruit- ful 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 contracted, 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, 92 COLERIDGE. 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 Montagu. 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 in 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 presbyter into the simple and candid listener, more ready to learn than he was to teach, and to consider the thoughts of another, than to propound his own. Nothing, indeed, can be more remarkable, more unlike 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 utmost simplicity and frankness acknowledging what he had learned. If imagination had anything to do with this serious and sad history, it would not be difficult to picture those two figures, so wonderfully different, looking down from the soft Highgate slopes upon that uneasy world beneath, which, to one of them, was but a great field of study, proving, as never any collection of human creatures proved before, all the grievous but great conclusions of philosophy ; 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 ringing, and his own hand snatching forth from under trampling feet the wounded and the fallen. Here Irving changed the common superficial idea of the world's conversion that belief calmly held or earnestly insisted on in the face of acknowledged disappointment in many missionary efforts, and the slowness and lingering issues of even the most successful, which is common to most churches. "That 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 reign of Christ. For this doc- trine he learned to substitute the idea of a dispensation draw- ing towards its close, and its natural consequence in a mind so full of love to God and man of an altogether glorious and overwhelming revolution yet to come, in which all the dead SOCIAL CHARITIES. 93 society, churches, kingdoms, fashions of this world, galvanically kept in motion until the end, should be finally burned up and destroyed. Whether this developmeat of wistful and anxious faith, and the " deliverance " conveyed by it or whether that more subtle view of the ancient and much-assailed Calvinistic doctrine of election, which sets forth God's message and mes- sengers as specially addressed to "the worthy," and univers- ally received by them wherever the message is heard was the substance of what the preacher learned from the poet-philoso- pher, there is no information. Such was his society and occupations when he returned with the companion of his life from Scotland. He brought his wife into a house in which the tumult of London was perpetu- ally 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 pleas- ant excitement of a new church about to be built, of size pro- portioned to the necessities of the case. The same crowds and commotion still surrounded the Caledonian Chapel, but they became more bearable in the prospect of more roomy quarters. An unfailing succession of private as well as public calls upon the kindness, help, and hospitality of a man whom everybody believed in, and who proffered kindness to all, helped to in- crease the incessant motion and activity of that full and un- resting life. Thus within eighteen months after his arrival in London had the Scotch preacher won the friendship of many not specially open to members of his profession and church, and made himself a centre of personal beneficences not to be counted. If ever pride can be justified, Edward Irving might have been justified in a passing thrill of that exultation when he brought his wife from the quiet manse which all along had looked on and watched his career, not sure how far its daugh- ter's future was safe in the hands of a man so often foiled, yet so unconquerable, 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, however titled or dignified, could equal. The peculiarity of his position lay in the fact that this singular elevation belonged to himself, and not to his rank, which was not susceptible of change ; that his influence was extended a thousand-fold, with little addition to his means, and none to his station ; and that, while he moved among men of the highest intellect and position, neither his transcendent popularity nor his acknowledged genius ever changed that pri- y4 HIS ARDUOUS LABOURS. mitive standing-ground of priest and pastor which 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 possibility of promotion, that such a delicate and visionary though real rank could by common verdict be bestowed. CHAPTEE 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 Irving did, confinement in one of the most town-like and closely-inhabited regions of London. In Pentonville, 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 relief from curates, or assistance of any kind. His entire pulpit services and, according to his own confession, 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 lips and mind, unaided by the inter- vention of any other man ; and besides his literary 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 friend- less, and the stranger, whensoever they addressed him. His next point of contact with the astonished and critical world, which watched for a false step on his part, and was ready to pounce upon anything, from an imperfect or com- plicated 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 compliment to Irving, and voucher of his popularity, as well as a prudent enlistment of the " highest talent," to give attraction to the PREPARES TO WRITE A MISSIONARY SOCIETY ORATION. 95- yearly solemnity of the Society. Had the London committee been wise they would scarcely have chosen so daring and original an orator to celebrate their anniversary ; since Irving was exactly the man whose opinions or sentiments on such a topic were not to be rashly predicated. The preliminaries of this discourse, as afterwards described by himself, were not such as generally usher in a missionary sermon. Instead of reading up the records of the society, and making careful note of the causes for congratulation and humility, as it would have been correct to have done instead of laying up materials for a glowing account of its progress and panegyric upon its missionaries, Irving' s preparations ran in the follow- ing extraordinary channel : " Having been requested by the London Missionary Society," he writes, "to preach upon the occasion of their last anniversary, I willingly 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 discourse, it seemed to my conscience that I had undertaken a duly full of peril and responsibility, for which I ought to prepare myself with 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 charitable work, I searched the Scrip- tures in secret ; and in their pious companies conversed of the convic- tions 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 before the reverend and pious men who had honoured me with so great a trust." It may easily be supposed that a discourse, thus premedi- tated and composed by a man whose youth was full of mis- sionary projects such as no practical nineteenth century judgment could designate otherwise than as the wildest ro- mance, 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 ap- prehended by an heroic mind, capable of the labours it de- scribed, which had been either wished or requested. But the directors of the Society, having rashly tackled with a man occupied, not with their most laudable pursuits and interests, but with the abstract truth, had to pay the inevitable penalty. The day came. In preparation for a great audience the chapel in Tottenham Court Road, once known as the Taber- nacle, and built for Whitfield, was selected. The day was wet and dreary, but the immense building was crowded long before the hour of meeting, many finding it impossible to get 96 MISSIONARY AFTER THE APOSTOLIC SCHOOL. admittance. So early was the congregation assembled, that to keep so vast a throng occupied, the officials considered it wise to begin the preliminary services a full hour before the time appointed. When the preacher appeared 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 understood 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 ad- dresses, 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 centuries the Evangelist commissioned of G-od, who had risen out of Scripture and the primeval ages upon the gaze of the preacher. He discoursed to the startled throng, met there to be asked for subscriptions to have their interest stimulated in the regulations of the committee, and their eyes directed towards its worthy and respectable represent- atives, each drawing a little congregation about him in some corner of the earth of a man without staif or scrip, with- out banker or provision, abiding with whomsoever would receive him, speaking in haste his burning message, pressing on without pause or rest through the world that lay in wick- edness an Apostle responsible to no man a messenger of the cross. The intense reality natural to one who had all but embraced that austere martyr vocation in his own per- son, gave force to the picture he drew. 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 pos- sible contempt, that wildest visionary conception. 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 wildest hubbub rose, as was natural, after this extra- ordinary utterance ; but through the midst of it all, pre- occupied and lost in the contemplation of that most true yet most impossible servant of God whom he had evoked from WRATH OF THE RELIGIOUS WORLD. 97 the past and the future to which all things are possible, Irving, all unaware of the commotion he had caused, went on his way, not dreaming that anybody could suppose the present machinery and economics of common-place mission- ary work injured by that high vision of the perfection of a character -which has been, and which yet may be again. He says, he " was prepared to resist any application which might possibly be made to me " to publish his sermon ; an entirely unnecessary precaution, since the complacency of the Lon- don Society evidently did not carry them the length of pay- ing the preacher of so unwelcome an address that customary compliment. But in the commotion that followed in the vexation and wrath of "the religious world," and the as- tonished outcry of everybody connected with missions the preacher, not less astonished than themselves, discovered that his doctrine was new, and unwelcome to the reverend and pious men for whose he'aring he had so carefully prepared it. When he heard his high conception of the missionary charac- ter denounced as an ill-timed rhetorical display, and that which he had devoutly drawn from the only inspired picture of such messengers characterized as not only visionary and wild, but an implied libel upon their present representatives, his sincere heart was roused and startled. He went back to his New Testament, the only store of information 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 picture rose and expanded. Was not the errand the same, the promise of God the same ? and why should the character of the individual be so different ? The natural result followed ; confirmed by further examina- tion, and strengthened by opposition, the sermon enlarged, and grew into an appeal to the world. Only the first part of this work, intended to be completed in four parts, was ever finished, the mind of the preacher being more deeply en- grossed from day to day in that law of God which was his meditation day and night, and directed ever to new unfolding of doctrine and instruction. This publication was dedicated to Samuel Taylor Coleridge, in the remarkable letter which follows : " MY DEAR AND HONOURED FRIEND, 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 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 98 DEDICATION TO COLEUIDGE. these or any times ; and when I state the reason to be, that you have been more profitable to my faith in orthodox doctrine, 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 enter- tained friendship and conversation, it will, perhaps, still more astonisli 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 enjoyment from being admitted into- the close and familiar intercourse with which you have honoured me ; and your many conversations concerning the revelations of the Chris- tian 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 inexperience, that not merely with the affection of friend to friend, and the honour due from youth to ex- perienced age, but with the gratitude of a disciple to a wise and fenerous teacher, of an anxious inquirer to the good man who hath elped 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 discourse. Accept them in good part, and be assured that, however insignificant in them- selves, they are the offering of a heart which loves your heart, and of a mind which looks up with reverence to your mind. IRVING." These lavish thanks, bestowed with a rash prodigality, which men of less generous and effusive temperament could never be brought to understand, were, according to all or- dinary rules of reason, profoundly imprudent. To put such a name as that of Coleridge,* under any circumstances, on a work which its author was already assured would be ex- amined with the 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 imprudent. But so, I fear, was the man to whom giving of thanks and rendering of acknoAvledgments was always joyfully congenial. It was not in his nature either to guard himself from the- suspicion of having received more than he really had re- * InLeigh 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 fame must have reached you. Judge how his own sectarists 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 Montagu told him the dedication would do him no good. ' That shall be a reason for doing it,' was his answer." The kind Elia adds, "Judge, now,. whether this man be a quack." BIRTH OF LITTLE EDWARD. 99 ceived, or to provide against the danger of connecting himself openly with all whom he loved or honoured. This-publication was received with shouts of angry criti- cism from all sides, and called forth an Expostulatory Letter from Mr "W. Orme, the secretary of the outraged Missionary Society, which, however, being long ago forgotten, needs not to be here discussed. 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 the history of the man. The swell of personal joy with which the following letter breaks 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 : "Pentonville, 22nd July, 1824. "Mr DEAR 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 con- stituted, with the mother, are rejoicing in the grace and goodness of God. " Mrs Martin and Margaret are both well, and salute you grand- father, 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 prospering 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 expected with much anxiety. I feel I shall be much strengthened 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 sublimated 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 generations of his blood. The child was called Edward ; and was to his father, with emphatic and touching verity, " his excellency and the be- ginning of his strength." The little tale of his existence sent echoes through all the strong man's life echoes so ten- der and full of such heart-breaking pathos, as I think no human sorrow ever surpassed. In the mean time, however, all was thankfulness in the increased household; and the patriarchal assemblage of kindred, father, and father's father, 100 A LOST LIFE. could have prophesied nothing but life and length of days to the child of such a vigorous race. Along with all the public and domestic occurrences which filled this busy life, there are connected such links of charity and private beneficence as put richer and idler men to shame. Jrving'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 difficult and the most delicate a kind almost unknown to our age and conventional life. To illus- trate this, we may quote one tragical episode, unfortunately more common among Scotch families, and, indeed, among families of all nations, than it is comfortable to know of: A young man, a probationer of the Church of Scotland, who had been unsuccessful in getting a church, or, apparently, in getting any employment, had turned such thoughts as he had, in the way of literature, and had written and published, apparently by subscription, a Treatise on the Sabbath. Having exhausted Edinburgh, he came to London, with the vain hopes that bring all adventurers there. He seems to have had no particular talent or quality commending him to the hearts of men. Into London he dropped obscurely, nobody there finding anything to respect in his half-clerical pre- tensions or unremarkable book. He went to see Irving occasionally, and was observed to fall into that dismal shabbi- ness which marks the failure of heart and hope in men born to better things. Irving had bought his book 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 appeared at his house with a note, which he insisted upon delivering into Irving's own hand. The note was from the unfortunate 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 acquainted 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 Mr 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 bring the unfortunate man home. He went, accordingly, desiring me to get a room ready. M was very glad to get his bill paid, but would scarcely leave the house, till Edward HOSPITALITY. 101 told him lie would free him 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 joined 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 some time, when, " one day, he went out after dinner 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-con- demnatory strain, begging for forgiveness and assistance." There is little need for following out the sickening story. Everywhere there are families who have received the same letters, made the same searches, heard the same humiliating confessions and entreaties, but only for those who belong to them, whom nature makes dear amid all wretchedness, to whom the hearts of mothers and sisters cling, and in whose behalf love still hopes against hope, are such cares usually undertaken. To do it all for a stranger to bring the half- conscious wretch into a virtuous home, to wile him with do- mestic society and comfort, to seek him out again and again, pay debts for him, find employments for him, receive his melancholy penitences, and encourage what superficial at- tempts after good there may be in him is a charity beyond the powers of most men. In rural places, here and there, such good Samaritans may be found ; but what man in Lon- don ventures to take upon himself such a responsibility? This doleful story throws a light upon the private 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 which to investigate and decide. A stream of society thus flowed by him, fluctuating as one went and another came. If any man among his friends was seized with a thought that London might be a sphere more desirable than Edinburgh or than Annan, such a person bethought him, naturally, of Ed- ward Irving and his hospitable house. The great people who sought the great preacher never interfered with the smaller people who sought his assistance and his friendship ; and those who had no possible claim upon his hospitality got at least his good offices and kind words. In the middle of the summer, just two years, as he him- 102 COMMENCEMENT OF THE NEW CHURCH. self tells us, from the time of his coming, the foundation- 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 be- fore, 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 high, est 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 his temple, or by a Catholic of his holy shrine, than by Presbyterian lips, which acknowledge no consecration of place. Doubtless the sublim- ation which everything encountered in 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 sentiment of reverence into this consecrating halo which his words threV around the unbuilt church ; but it must not be forgotten that from his very outset a certain priestly instinct was in the man who bade " Peace be to this house " in every dwell- ing 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 London in September, paid a short visit to the paternal houses in Scotland, and then returned to Dover, where they remained for some weeks, and where Irving, never idle, entered fully, as he himself relates, into the missionary oration of which we have already spoken. At a later period, after having again entered into harness, in the November of the same year he visited Birmingham, Manchester, and Liverpool by invita- tion, in order to stir up his countrymen there to the support and revival of the Church of their fathers, for want of which many of them had sunk into indifference, or worse. 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 de- gree from regular correspondence with his friends in Scotland a change which his marriage, and all the revolutions which had taken place in his life, as well as the full occupation of his time, and the perpetually increasing calls made upon it, rendered inevitable. His affections were unchanged, but it was no longer possible to keep up the expression of them. "IX GOD HE LIVED AND MOVED." 103 The new friends who multiplied around him were of a kind to make a deep impression upon a mind which was influenced more or less by all whom it held in high regard. In dedi- cating a volume of sermons to Mr Basil Montagu and his wife, he addresses them with the warmest expressions of esteem and affection. To Coleridge he had also owned his still higher obligations. Another friend, whom his friends consider to have had no small influence on Irving, was the Uev. "W. Vaughan, of Leicester, an English clergyman, who is supposed, I cannot say with what truth, to have been mainly instrumental in leading him to some views which lie afterwards expressed. His distinguished countryman, Carlyle, whom, in one of his letters, he playfully refers to as " the moralist," not then resident in London, was his occasional guest and close friend. Good David "Wilkie, and his biographer, Allan Cunningham, were of the less ele- vated home society, which again connected itself with the lowest homely levels by visitors and petitioners from Glas- gow and Annan dale. In this wide circle 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 seri- ousness, in the allusions made in Eraser's Magazine, years after, to this early summer of his career. The laughing phi- losophers, over their wine, grow suddenly grave as they speak of the one among them who was not as other men. " In God he lived, and moved, and had his being," says this wit- ness, impressed from among the lighter regions of life and literature to bear testimony; " no act was done but in 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 lived a life unequivocal and not to be mis- taken. It was while living in the full exercise of all those chari- ties, happy in the new household and the firstborn child, that he worked at the missionary oration, the history of which I have already told. Apart from the ordinary comments upon -and wonderings over the stream of fashion which still flowed towards Hatton Garden, this oration was, for that year, the only visible disturbing element in his life. 104 IRVING'S INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF PROPHECY, CHAPTEK X. 1825. IN the beginning of the year 1825, a year for ever to be remembered in Edward Irving's life, and which, indeed, so touching, and solemn, and pathetic are all the records of its later part, I could almost wish contained no common events, but only the apotheosis of love and grief accomplished in it, he was, notwithstanding the sad failure and discomfiture of the London Missionary Society in its employment of his services, requested to preach for the Continental Society on a similar occasion. This Society was held up and maintained from its commencement by the nervous strength of Henry Drummond, a man already 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 com- mission, becoming aware, I do not doubt, that his thoughts often ran in channels so distinct from those of other men r that it was dangerous to be chosen as the mouthpiece of a large 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, his discourse naturally came to be upon prophecy. I say naturally, because, in the evangelization of the Continent, all the mystic impersona- tions of the Apocalypse, the scarlet woman on her seven hills, the ten-horned beast, all the prophetic personages of that dread undeveloped 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 with- out more particular notice. Several years before, Mr Hatley Prere, one of the most sedulous of those prophetical students who were beginning to make themselves known here antf 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 religious public. Not less confident in the truth of his scheme that nobody shared his belief in it, Mr Frere cherished the conviction that if he could but meet some man of candid and open mind, of popularity suf- ficient to gain a hearing, to whom he could privately explain and open up his system, its success was certain. When. FASCINATION OF THAT STUDY. 105- Irving, all ingenuous and ready to be taught, was suddenly brought into 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 dis- coverer, who seeks a voice by which to utter what he has found out, he addressed himself to the task of convincing the candid and generous soul which could condemn nothing un- heard. He disclosed to his patient hearer all those details to which the public ear declined to listen ; and the result was that Mr Frere gained a disciple and expositor ; and that an influence fatal to his future leisure, and of the most mo- mentous importance to his future destiny which, indeed, it is impossible now to disjoin from the man, or to consider his life or character apart from took possession of Irving's thoughts. This new subject naturally connected itself with that conviction of an approaching crisis in the fate of the world, not mild conversion, but tragic and solemn winding up and settlement, which he is said to have derived from Coleridge. Henceforward the gorgeous and cloudy vistas of the Apocalypse became a legible chart of the future to his fervent eyes. The fascination of that study, always so engrossing and attractive, seized upon him fully ; and when it came to be his business to consider the truths best adapted for the in- struction and encouragement of a body of Christian men la- bouring on behalf of that old Roman world which has long been the heart and centre of the earth, his mind passed at once into those solemn and mysterious adumbrations of Pro- vidence in which he and many other Christian men have be- lieved themselves able to trace the very spot, between what was fulfilled and what was unfulfilled, in which they them- selves stood. Could such a standing ground be certainly obtained, who can doubt that here is indeed the guidance of all others for any effort of evangelization ? Irving had no doubt upon the subject. To him the record was distinct, the past apparent, the future to be reverently but clearly under- stood. Superficial pious addresses were impossible to a man, who went into everything 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 to be exhausted, and from which light and guidance not vague, but particular could be brought for every need. And the weight of his " calling " to instruct was never ab- sent from his mind. To the missionaries, accordingly, he brought forth the picture of an apostle ; and opened before 106 SERMON TO THE CONTINENTAL SOCIETY. the eyes of those who aimed at a re-evangelization of old Christendom a cloudy but splendid panorama of the fate which was about to overtake the sphere of their operations, and all the mysterious agencies, half discerned in actual presence, and clearly indicated in Scripture, which were be- fore them in that difficult and momentous field Tn a man distinguished as an orator this tendency to avoid tne super- ficial and go to the very heart, as he understood it, of his subject, was neither expected nor recognized by the ordinary crowd. In this same spring of 1825, in which he preached his prophetical discourse for the instruction of a society en- gaged upon the Continent on the very ground where pro- phecy, according to his interpretation, was to be fulfilled he also preached for the Highland School Society ; a subject which might have been supposed very congenial to his heart, iind in which I have no doubt his audience looked for such glowing pictures of Highland glens and mountains, of primi- tive 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 edu- cation with all the conscientiousness of his nature, setting it forth fully in a manner which, whatever may be the inevit- able expediencies to which modern civilization is driven, must command the respect and admiration of everybody who has ever thought upon the subject. His discourse to the Continental Society, though it did not raise such a commotion as the missionary oration, 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 under- stand that he had been misapprehended, and that political meanings, of which he was innocent, had been suspected in his sermon. Catholic Emancipation was then one of the questions of the day ; and the advocates of both sides sus- pected 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 interpretation a study which charmed him deeply, and had felt himself drawn, as was natural, into a closer, exclusive fellowship with those who pursued the same study and adopted the same views. Urged by his brother-students of prophecy, and inclined of himself to give forth those investigations in which he had BABYLON AND INFIDELITY FOREDOOMED. 107 himself been comforted, to the world, he devoted his leisure during the year to amplifying and filling out the germ which had been in his discourse. " Thus it came to pass," he says in the preface, " that to clear myself from being a political par- tisan in a ministerial garb, and to gratify the desires of these servants of Christ, I set forth this publication on which I pray the blessing of God to rest." He entitled the book, jBabi/lon and Infidelity Foredoomed, and dedicated it with his ususal magnanimous acknowledg- ment of indebtedness, to the gentleman who had first directed his thoughts to the subject. " To my beloved friend and brother in Christ, Hatley Frere, Esq. " When I first met you, worthy sir, in a company of friends, and moved, 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 present time, as foretold in the Book of Daniel and the Apocalypse. But being ashamed of my own ignorance, and having been blessed from my youth with the desire of instruction, I dared not to scoff at what I heard, but resolved to consider the matter. More than a year passed before it pleased Providence 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 objec- tions 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 good-will with which you undertook, and the patience with which you performed this kind office, I am for ever be- holden to you, most dear and worthy friend. . . . JFor I am not willing that any one should account of me as if I were worthy to have had revealed to me the important truths contained in this discourse, which may all be found written in your ' Treatise on the Prophecies of Daniel ; ' only the Lord accounted me worthy 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 impenitent, to His name shall all the praise and glory be ascribed by me, His un- worthy 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." Of a very different character is the next incident which we find in this history. An account of " an afternoon spent in his society among the poor of London," which appeared 108 IRVING'S "WAY." some years since in the pages of the Free Church Magazine, gives a quaint picture at once of the disabilities 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 established an infant school in the district of Billings- gate, and finding themselves quite unsuccessful in persuading- the people to send their children to it, applied to Irving to* help them. He, at the height of his splendid reputation, 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 dis- trict. In the first house he left the explanation of their errand to his female clients, and speedily discovered the mis- take these good people made. The scene is full of comic elements, and one can scarcely refrain from imagining the appearance that such a group must have presented: the city ladies, important in their mission, impressing upon the hesitating, half-affronted mother, into whose room they had made their way, all the charitable advantages which they had ordained for her children, and the great figure of the preacher standing by, letting them have their own way, doubtless not without amusement in his 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 who opened it, and asked permission to go in. He then explained the intention of the ladies, asked how many children 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 little ones on his knee, and blessed her." The city ladies were confounded. They had honestly intended to benefit the poor, very, very distantly related 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 them as if he had spoken Hebrew instead of English. " Why, Mr Irving," exclaimed one of the ladies when they got into the street, " you spoke to that woman as if she were doing you a favour, and not you conferring one on her ! How could you speak so ? and how could you take up that child on your knee ? " " The woman," he replied, " does not as yet know the advantages which her children will derive from your school ; by-and-by she will know them, and own her obligations to you ; and in so speaking and in blessing her child, I do but follow the ex- ample of our Lord, who blessed the little ones, the lambs of HIS MANNER OF LIFE. 109 His flock." In another house the children had beautiful hair, which the benevolent visitors, intent on doing good after their own fashion, 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 in vain. When they were denied admission at one house, he left his benediction to the unseen people within, and passed on. On the whole, his companions did not know what to make of him. Irving's fashion of visiting "the poor" was unknown in Billingsgate. A word or two as to the most modest and primitive life led by the subject of our 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 lived 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 retired to his study. He gave no audience again till after three. Two o'clock was the din- ner hour; and, after that, should no one come to prevent him, he generally walked out, Mrs Irving accompanying him; and, until the baby took hooping-coiigh, Mr 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 admired and flattered by the highest per- sonages in the kingdom, marching along the Pentonville streets with his baby, must have been a spectacle to make ordinary men open their eyes. An amusing personal anec- dote, belonging to a similar period, comes from the same authority. His indifference to money has been visible with sufficient distinctness throughout his life ; but, after his mar- riage, according to a primitive habit most worthy of imita- tion, 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 amusing embarrassment. On one occasion he had left home to visit a member of his congregation somewhere on the line of the New Road ; but, finding himself late, took, without consider- ing the state of his pocket, the Paddington coach, omnibuses having not yet come into fashion. As soon as the vehicle was on its way, the unlucky passenger recollected that he was penniless. His dismay at the thought was overwhelming, but soon brightened with a sudden inspiration. Looking around him, he artfully fixed upon the most benevolent look- ing face he saw, and poured his sorrows into his fellow-travel- 110 HIS LETTER OF WELCOME TO HIS WIFE. ler's ear. " I told him that I was a clergyman," was the ac- count he gave to his amused home audience ; " that, since I had obtained a wife from the Lord, I had given up all con- cern with the things of this world, leaving my purse in my wife's hands ; and that to-day I had set out to visit some of my flock at a distance, without recollecting to put a shilling in my purse for the coach." The good man thus addressed was propitious, and paid the fare. But the honour due to such a good Samaritan is lessened when we learn that the preacher's remarkable appearance, and scarcely less extraor- dinary request, betrayed him ; and the stranger had the honour and satisfaction, for his sixpence, of making the ac- quaintance of Edward Irving. Early in this summer, clouds began to appear in the fir- mament of the new household. The baby, so joyfully wel- comed and dearly prized, was seized with hooping-cough. And, in the end of June, Mrs "Irving, then herself in a deli- cate condition of health, accompanied by her sister, took little Edward down to Scotland, to the peaceful manse of Kirkcaldy, for change of air. The following letter was writ- ten immediately after the departure of the travellers : "London, Friday Afternoon ; July 1st, 1825. "Mr DEAR ISABELLA AND BELOVED WIFE, I suppose, by the time this arrives in Kirkcaldy, you will be arrived, and little Edward, and our dear brother and sister, and faithful Mary; and, because 1 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 welcome, 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 womanhood. And while I say this to yourself, I take you to your father and mother, and say unto them : Receive, honoured parents, your daughter your eldest-born child and give her double honour 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- * Coleridge, then living at Higligate with his friends, the Gillmans. BAPTISMAL REGENERATION. Ill tinue so until I remove. To-day I have been busy with my first dis- course upon the 'Will of the Father/ which I pray you to study diligently in the Gospel by John 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 precedency 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, and with difficulty directeth my hand to write these few words, which I am, moved to by my affection to you as my wife, and my desire after you as a saint. Therefore, I conclude hastily, with my love to our dear parents, brothers, and sisters, and all our kindred. The Lord preserve my wife and child ! " Your faithful husband, " ED WARD IRVING." It appears from the letters of this period that Irving had already found his way to those views of baptism which he did not publish to the world till some time after. The in- stincts of fatherhood had quickened Ms mind in his investi- gations. He had found it impossible, when his thoughts were directed to this subject, to rest in the vagueness of or- dinary conceptions. "We assuredly believe that by baptism we are ingrafted in Christ Jesus," says simply that ancient, primitive confession to which his heart turned as the clearest, simple utterance, uncontroversial and single-minded, of the national faith. When Irving turned towards that question, he " assuredly believed " the canon he had subscribed at his ordination ; and receiving it with no lukewarm and indif- ferent belief, but with a faith intense and real, came to re- gard the ordinance in so much warmer and clearer a light than is usual in his Church, that his sentiments seem to have differed from those of the High Church party of England, who hold baptismal regeneration, by the merest hair's-breadth. of distinction a distinction which indeed I confess myself unable to appreciate. This intensified and brightened appre- hension, which made the ordinance not a sign only, nor a vague- ly mysterious conjunction of sign and reality, but an actual, effectual sacrament, rejoiced the new-made father to the bot- tom of his heart. His soul expanded in a deeper tenderness " over the chrisom child, whom he "assuredly believed" to be " ingrafted in Christ Jesus." Tears afterwards, lie makes a touching acknowledgment of gratitude for this insight given, as in the fervour and simplicity of his heart he be- lieved it to be, as a strengthening preparation against the sharpest personal anguish of life. In the months of July and August he remained alone in London, living in the house of his friends Mr and Mrs Mon- 112 LITTLE EDWARD'S ILLNESS AND DEATH. tagu, and proceeding vigorously, as has been seen, in his la- bours 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 September 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 rallied 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 born ; 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 per- mitted ever again, in life, to behold her first-born, little Ed- ward lingered out the troubled moments, and died slowly in his father's agonized sight. The new-born infant was bap- tized on Sunday, the 9th October, for a consolation to their hearts ; and on the llth her brother died. Dr Martin, of Kirkcaldy, writing to his father the venerable old man who had baptized little Edward, his descendant of the fourth gen- eration describes with tears in his voice, how, sitting beside the little body, he could do nothing but kneel down and weep, till reminded of the words used by the child's father " in a sense in which, probably, they have not often been ap- plied, but the force of which, at the moment, was very striking, when he saw all about him dissolved in tears, on viewing the dear infant's cruel struggle, ' Look not at the things which are seen, but at those which are unseen ! '" "Edward and Isabella," he continues, "both bear the stroke, though sore, with wonderful resignation Two nights ago they resolved, in their conference and prayers concern- ing him, to surrender him wholly to Grod to consider him as not their child, but Grod's When her husband came down-stairs to-day, he said, in reply to a question from 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 assembled to worship as a family, after all was over, Mr Irving, before I began to pray, requested leave to address us ; and he addressed us, all and several, in the most affec- tionate and impressive manner. The Lord bless and fix his words ! In testimony of his gratitude for the consolation afforded him and his wife, he has gone out to visit and com- fort some of the afflicted around us." The manner in which Irving himself announced this first IRVINO'S ANNOUNCEMENT OF HIS CHILD'S DEATH. 113 interruption of his family happiness, with an elevation and ecstasy of grief which I do not doubt will go to the hearts of all who have suffered similar anguish, as indeed the writer can scarcely transcribe it without tears, will be seen by the following letter, addressed to William Hamilton, and written on the day of death itself: " Kirkcaldy, llth October, 1825. "OuR DEARLY-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 Ghost, as He doth to all His faithful servants ; and we are com- forted, 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 overcome ; 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 com- mitted 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 immortality to light. The affec- tion 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 grief 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 all that they are dust, arid that their children are as the flowers of the field. " Nevertheless, God granting me a safe journey, I will preach at the Caledonian church on Sabbath, the 23rd, though I am cut off from my purpose of visiting the churches by the way. The Lord be with you, and your brethren of the eldership, and all the church and con- gregation. " Your affectionate friend, "EDWARD IRVING. " My wife joining with me." "With such an ode and outburst of the highest strain of grief, brought so close to the gates of heaven, that the dazzled mourner, overpowered with the greatness of the anguish and 8 114 LITTLE EDWARD'S MEMORY. the glory, sees the Lord within, and takes a comfort more pathetic than any lamentation, was the child Edward buried. He was but fifteen months old ; but either from his natural loveliness, or from the subliming influence of his father's love and grief, seems to have left a memory behind him as of the very ideal and flower of infancy. By his father and mother the child was always held in pathetically thankful remem- brance. " Little Edward, their fairest and their first," writes one of Mrs Irving's sisters, " never lost his place in their af- fections. "Writing of one of her little ones, some years after- wards, my sister said, ' I have said all to you when I tell you that we think her very like our little Edward ; ' " and the same lady tells us of Irving's answer to somebody who ex- pressed the superficial and common wonder, so often heard, that helpless babies should grow up to be the leaders and guides of the world, in words similar to those which break from him in his Preface to Sen-Ezra : " Whoso studieth as I have done, and reflecteth as I have 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 the enjoyment 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 should be the abortive fruit of the rich bud of childhood, than think that childhood is an imperfect promise and open- ing of the future man. And therefore it is that I grudged not our noble, lovely child, but rather do delight that such a seed should blossom and bear in the kindly and kindred paradise of my Grod. 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 ? Grlorious 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 an'd fruitfulness of such joy and sorrow." I cannot doubt that the record of this infant's death, and the traces it leaves upon the life and words of his sorrowful but rejoicing father, Avill endear the great orator to many sorrowful hearts. So far as I can perceive, no other event IRVING VISITS THE SORROWFUL IN KIRKCALDY. 115 of his life penetrated so profoundly the depths of his spirit. And I cannot think it is irreverent to lift the veil, now that both of those most concerned have rejoined their children, from that sanctuary of human sorrow, faith, and patience. Those of us who know such days of darkness may take some courage from the sight. And such of my readers as may have become interested in the domestic portions of this history will be pleased to hear that the little daughter, born under such lamentable circumstances, lived to grow up into a beautiful and gifted woman, brightened her father's house during all his life-time, and died happily not long before her much-tried and patient mother. Irving remained in Kirkcaldy about a week after this sad- event ; during which time he occupied himself, " in gratitude for the comfort he had himself received," as it is pathetically said, in visiting all who were sorrowful in his father-in-law's congregation. Then, leaving his wife to perfect her slow and sad recovery in her father's house, until she and the new- born infant, now doubly precious, were fit to travel, he went away sadly by himself, to seek comfort and strength in a solitary journey on foot an apostolical journey, in which he carried his Master's message from house to house, along the way to his father's house in Annan. Mrs Irving and her child remained for some time in Scotland ; and to this cir- cumstance we owe a closer and more faithful picture of Irving' s life and heart than anything which a biographer could attempt ; than anything, indeed, which, so far as I am aware, any man of modern days has left behind him. CHAPTER XI. JOURNAL. THE correspondence which follows needs neither intro- duction nor comment. No one who reads it will need to be told how remarkable it is. It was Irving's first long separa- tion 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 permis- sion of the remaining children of his house. It will be seen. 116 WANDERINGS AMONG THE HILLS. to begin from the time of his leaving Kirkcaldy, after tho sorrows above recorded. " Annan, 18th October, 1825. "My DEAREST WIFE, I am grieved that 1 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, I 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 side of Peebles- Bridge,, and I took my solitary way up Glen Sark, calling at every shepherd's house along my route, to obtain an opportunity of ad- monishing mother and children of their mortality, and so proceeded till I set my lace to climb the hill which you must pass to get out of the glen. In ascending which, I had the sight and feeling of a new phenomenon among the mountains, a terrible hail-storm, which swept down the side of the opposite mountain, and came upon me with such a violence as required all my force of hand and foot to keep erect, ob- literating my meagre path, and leaving me in the wildest mountain, wholly at a nonplus, to steer my way ; until the sun breaking out, or rather streaking the west with 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. I 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 something ; where, for gathering 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 oifer of tea r 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 arid the dogs oi' Dryhope Tower (a per- fect 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 con- venient rock beneath some overhanging branches which moaned and sighed in the breeze, I sat me down, while the wind, sweeping, 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 or thee, our babe, and our departed boy. My soul was filled with sweetness. ' I did not ask for a sign,' as Colonel Black- adder says ; but when I looked up to the moon, as I came out from the ecclesia of the rock, she looked as never a moon had looked before in my eye, as if she had been washed in dew, which, speedily clearing AN APOSTOLIC JOURNEY. 117 ofT, she looked so bright and beautiful; 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 solacement of that moment ! Of my adventure with the shepherd-boy Andrew, whose mother's sons were all squandered abroad among the shepherds, and our prayer upon the edge of the mountain, and my welcome at the cottage, 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. Next 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 Grange, and from that place had crossed the moor to meet me ; and by returning 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 con- structing 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 wel- fare 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 household to me and mine. The Lord remember them with the love He beareth to His own. I affectionately, most af- fectionately 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, "EDWAKD IKYING." " Carlisle, 21st October, 1825. " MY DEAB, ISABELLA, Thus far I am arrived safely, and find that my seat is taken out in the London mail to-morrow evening at seven o'clock. I left all my father's family in good health, full of affection to .nie, and, I trust, not without faith and love towards God. Mr Fer- .gussou and Margaret and the two eldest boys came down from Dum- fries on Wednesday, and added much to our domestic enjoyment, which, >but for the pain of parting so soon, was as complete as ever I had felt ait ; for, though my heart was very cold, I persevered, by 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 you, and feel much for your weal, and long for the time when they shall be able to comfort you in person. Thomas v 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. 118 INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COACH JOURNEY. " Your short pencilled note was like honey to my soul ; arid though I have not had the outpouring of soul for you, little baby, and myself 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 bo- a minister at the altar of His house ! I shall write you when I reach London. Till then may the Lord be your defence, my dear lamb's nourishment and strength, Mary's encouragement, 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 improvement of our great trial, which may I never forget, and as oft as I remember, exercise an act of submission unto the will of God. This is written at the fire of the public room among my fello\v- 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, "EDWARD IRVING. " Myddleton Terrace, 25th October, 1825. " MY DEA'E, WIPE, beloved in the Lord, I bless you and our little child, and pray that t'he 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 God, 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 graceless company, we were preserved by the Lord. On our journey there occurred nothing remarkable ex- cept one thing, which, for its singular hospitality, I resolved to recount to you. Our road lay through Rutlandshire, and half way between TJppingham 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 ' Ivauhoe.' Now mark, when our road, swinging 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 AEE.IVAL AT HOME. 119 the Lord would make me a Nazarite indeed from all lusts of the flesh ! Remember this hospitable lord in your prayers. He is my Lord Soudes, and his place is Buckingham Castle. The Mail-coach hath this privilege from him at all times, and I understand, during the great fall of snow, he took the passengers in, and entertained them for several days, until they were aole to get forward. " I arrived, I say, at eleven o'clock, and Alexander Hamilton was waiting for me at the Angel, with whom I walked to this house of mourning, and found Hall getting better, and all things prepared by his worthy wife for my comfort. So here I am resolved to abide, and me- ditate my present trials and widowhood for a time. But 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 wnen 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 ! 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 you, however briefly, that your heart might be comforted ; for are not you my chief comfort ? and ought not 1 to be yours, according to my ability ? I assure you, all 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, "EDWAKD IRVING." " Say to Mary : ' Pray for the Comforter, even the Spirit of truth 5 which proceedeth from the Father.' " * This was one of two brothers, Spaniards, the elder of whom had been abbot of a monastery, and had more than once been intrusted with missions to Rome. lie had been enlightened by a copy of the Bible in the library of his convent, and after a while had been obliged to flee from the terrors of the Inquisition. He could speak scarcely any English, but was kindly helped to acquire it by the ladies of Mr Irving's family. The younger was a soldier, brought to Protestantism as much by love for his brother as by love for the truth. Irving exerted himself in behalf of both, and treated them with great and constant kindness. The abbe married a lady whose confessor he had been, and whom he had insensibly led into his own views, and, as a conse- quence, into persecution but died early, leaving his widow to the protectiou of his devoted brother. 120 COMMENCEMENT OF JOURNAL-LETTERS. After his arrival in London, his letters take the form of a journal, commenced as follows : " Let me now endeavour to express, for the information of my dear wife, and for her consolation under our present sore trial, and for the 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 soul 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. " 2GtJi. 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 communion of God ; but poor and heartless when compared with those experiences of the Psalmist, whose prayers prevented the dawning of the morn- ing, and his meditations the night-watches ; and my soul being afflicted with the downwardness, and wandering of spirit, and coldness of heart, towards the God of my salva- tion, in the morning, which is as it were a new resurrection, it was borne in upon my mind that it arose in a great measure from my not realizing with abiding constancy the Mediator between me and God, but breaking through, as it were, to commune with Him in mine own strength whereby the lightning did scathe my soul, or rather my soul abode in its barrenness, unwatered from the living fountain, in its slavery unredeemed by the Captain of my salvation, who will be ac- knowledged before He 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 assembled to prayers in the little library (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 after noon), Miss Dalzell* and her sister came in to con- sult me concerning the unsuitable behaviour of one of the Sabbath-school teachers, who was becoming a scandal unto the rest of the teachers, and had been a sore trouble to her, and whom Satan was moving to trouble the general peace of the Society. Under which affliction, having given her Avhat present comfort the Lord enabled me, I refrained from any positive deliverance, or even hinting any idea, till the mat- ter should come before our committee against which may * A lady who had been the means of establishing a system of local Sab- bath schools. HISTORICAL READING. 121 the Lord grant me and 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 composed myself to read out of a book of old pamphlets concerning the Revo- lution, one which contains a minute journal of the expedi- tion 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, written as it is in a spiritual and biblical 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 judg- ment 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 consummated in the Revolution, 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. Afterwards I addressed myself to Bishop Overall's Convocation 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 revelation, and appends a canon to each. In the first twenty-two of which chapters and canons I was aston- ished to find the full declaration of what had been dawning upon my mind, viz. that the maxim which since Locke's time has been the basis of all government, ' 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 dissolution 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 by the same highest authority. Also it pleased me to find how late sprung is the notion among our levelling dissenters, that the magis- trate hath no power in the Church, and how universal was the notion among the reformers and divines that the magis- trate is bound to put down idolatry and will-worship, and 122 "IDOLATRY OF THE MEMORY." provide for the right religious instruction of the people^ That subject of toleration needs to be reconsidered ; the liberals have that question wholly their own way, and there- fore I know that there must be error in it ; for 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 delight I had borne my dear, dear boy along that walk, with 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 will. Sir Peter Lawrie called after dinner, and besought me, as indeed have many, to go and live with him ; but nothing shall tempt me from this sweet solitude of re- tirement, and activity of consolation, and ministry to the af- flicted When he was gone I went forth upon my out- door ministry, and as I walked to Mr "Whyte'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 Mrs S., and, being somewhat out of spirits, was tempted of Satan to return, but having been of late much exercised upon the necessity of implicit 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 churchyard, full of softness of heart Upon my re- turn home I addressed- myself to a discourse upon the text, ' To me to live is Christ, and to die gain,' until the hour of evening prayer, when I gathered my little flock, and having commended all our spirits 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 af- fection, 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 divine as the pillow of Padanaram! My little darling, thou art resting on thy mother's bosom ; the Lord make thee unto us what Isaac was to Abraham and Sarah ! Farewell, my beloved ! DEVOTION AND STUDY. 123 " 27th October. I am so worn out with work that I fear it is a vain undertaking to which I now address myself, of giving some account of the day's transactions to my dear wife. I be- gan the day with a sweet exercise of private devotion, wherein the Lord gave me ore 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 fulfil 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 which came clothed in a cloud, but passed encircled with a rainbow. As I walked I employed myself in committing to memory some Hebrew roots. Having returned to my study, I addressed myself 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 discourse, in the composition of which I find a new style creeping upon me, whether for the better or for the worse I know not ; but this I know, 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 simplicity. I had a call from Mr M , and Dr 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 difficulty forming my thoughts into these feeble words. The Lord send refreshing sleep to my dear wife and little babe, and to His servant, who has the satisfaction of having wearied himself in His service. Farewell ! " 28th October, Thursday. This day, my best beloved, has been to me a day of activity and not of study, feeling it ne- cessary to lie 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 still; but this illusion was accompanied with such prayers and refreshings of soul, and all so hallowed, that I awoke out of it nowise disap- pointed with the sad reality ; and having arisen, I addressed myself to the cleansing of body and soul, and especially be- sought the Lord for simple and implicit obedience to His holy 124 BREAKFAST PARTY. l, of which prayer, methinks, I have this day experienced the sweet and gracious answer. At family prayers and break- fast there assembled Mr Hamilton, our brother ; Mr Darling, one of the flock, who came to consult concerning the schools, for which they wish a collection, to which I am the more dis- posed that all other means have failed ; Mr Thompson, the preacher who visited us at Kirkcaldy, and came to present me with his little religious novel of The Martyr, a tale of the first century ; opus per difficile ; Mr M - , curate of our parish of Clerkenwell, who came to commune with me concerning Sot- tomayor and the affairs of the parish, a man of zeal, but I fear not of much wisdom, yet devoted to the Lord ; Mr Johnstone, a young lawyer from Alnwick, four years an inmate of Pears' house,* a Christian likewise, but of the Eadical or Dissenting- for-dissenting-sake school ; I trust men of God : and a sweet thought it is to me that the Lord should encompass my table with His servants. For whose entertainment Mrs Hall (best and frugallest of housekeepers) had prepared a ham and other eatables, with which, and tea, not over strong, we were well pleased and thankful to satisfy our hunger. After breakfast we set out (which had 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 Dinwiddie, with his daughters, of whom he would not allow one to go to Edinburgh on a visit of months without having seen it, to carry the reports of our work. This careful elder having pointed to Mr 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 callings. In Mr H - 's hospitium of business, and general rendezvous of Caledonian friends, I wrote for Elizabeth Dinwiddie a letter of pastoral commendation to Mrs Gordon, through whom, wife of my heart and sharer of my joys, you will find her out if you should be resident in the city. In the room of shawls, muslin, and muslin-boxes, which your father found cool as the refresh- ing zephyrs, there were four Greeks, negotiating with Alex- ander, 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 curling 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, * The school-house at Abbotshall, Kirkcaldy, referred to in Chapter IV. BOOK-STALLS. 125 whose hurt in his head threatens him grievously In my first visit I liked 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 AVhitecross 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 translation of Doddridge's 'Rise and Progress;' and after much sweet discourse for, dear Isabella, he proves well his wife came up, and he interpreted between us. She is per- plexed most to give up the honour of the Virgin 1 should say the idolatry of the Virgin. I prayed with them, as in every other place, and hastened home, expecting letters from my Isabella, which I found not, at Pentonville. 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, until I reached Bedford Square, where I found the two proof-sheets with the letter, which was like water to my soul. But one o'clock has struck. "William Hamilton came at six, when we went to Sir Peter's. .... After which, returning home with sweet discourse, I as- sembled my family, and when I prayed there wept one, I know not which (may they be tears of penitence and contrition !) + and having supped upon my cup 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 blessing 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. " Walthamstow, 29th, Friday. This morning, my dear Isa- bella, I excused myself a little longer rest, by the lateness of my home-returning last night and my weariness, which you 126 CHRISTIAN COUNSEL. will observe is not right, for unless there be some fixed hour there can be no regularity, of which the great use is to form a restraint upon our wilfulness. Moreover, I always find that the work of the Lord proceeds with me during the day according to my readiness to serve Him in the morning. Oh, when shall my eyes prevent the morning, that I might medi- tate in His law or lift 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 his faith was unremoved and unremovable, and his wife and chil- dren 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 kind His ministry was likely to be in these cities. In which I think I had no small liberty 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 discourse to a resting-place, I judged I could not do better than gather my implements 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 Avhich you and I and dear Edward might oft walk out of a summer eve to see our friends ; and now little Edward and our esteemed friend are in the dust. Be it so. I praise the Lord for His good- ness, and so do you, my dearest wife. I found our dear friends as I could have wished Having assembled the family, and encouraged them to stand fast in the Lord, and see His wonders, we joined in worship, and the 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 stirred up, and sometimes languishes with much faintness, yet with a very faint as well as a very fervent cry, I will entreat Him, that I may be wholly His, 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 ad- vance, and not to go back Now, my dearest, how "FOR THE CONSOLATION OF EDWARD'S MOTHER." 127 glad should we be that the fresh, free air of our house was eminently serviceable to Hall, with whom it might have gone very hard in his confined 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 conceptions dull. The Lord, who preserved the Virgin and the Blessed Babe on their journey to Egypt, preserve my wife and babe, and bring them in safety to their home, and their home in my heart. This 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. " 29th, Saturday. " 'Long have I view'd, long have I thought, And trembling held the bitter draught ; But now resolved and firm I'll be, Since 'tis prepared and mix'd 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, Thou wound' 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*bidst me quit This favour' d gourd : and I submit.' " These lines, my dearest, were brought in for the consola- tion of Mrs I by the two pious sisters in whom our de- parted friend used to rejoice so much. I thought them so pious and obedient in their spirit that I immediately copied them out for the consolation of Edward's mother. Dear Isa- bella, if the fruit of our marriage had been no more than to give birth and being to so sweet a spirit, I would bless the Lord that He had ever given you to my arms. 128 THE SECRET OF FELLOWSHIP. " I am in Dr M 's back dining-room, so far on my way home. . . . So, to place myself in the sweetest company which the world possesses for me, I have taken my pen in hand. I know not how it is, my dear, that I find not the communion I looked for in the company of Mrs I . Her mind is fidgety or flighty ; I know not which. ... So it is with me also, and 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 expressing their thought, and manifesting it to others. Being manifest to themselves, they stop short and heed not the further revealing it. How this has been my character, and that of Mrs I ! Hence our inability to enter into communion; for communion implies one common, not two several minds. The true access and assurance of good so?- ciety* is the communion of the Holy Spirit, which if you cultivate, my beloved wife, it will be well for you in all re- lations, and so also for me. As Christ is the author of all true regulation of the mind or understanding, or reason, so the Holy Grhost is the author of all true love and affection and communion, out of which all forms of society spring. But for Miss B , I think her, so far as I can judge, a faithful and true disciple. of the Lord ; rather, perhaps, over- theological, and not enough practised in the inward obedience of the mind. Oh, my dearest, this obedience is the perfec- tion of the Christian, obedience in the thought, obedience 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 effemi- nate feelings, which convince me that there is an intimate connection between the softer and more luxurious forms of nature, and the softer passions of the mind ; for I am never visited with any such fleshly thoughts when moving through the mountains and wilds of my native country ; and to my judgment this tendency of visible beauty, variety, and rich- ness to cultivate the sensual part of our nature, which ob- scures the intellectual and moral, in the true account that, being left to themselves without religion, 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 delivered from these base * Irving uses this word in the Scotch sense good company, fellowship. The social faculty is evidently what he means. WISDOM AND POWER. 129 bonds ? "When shall I desire to be delivered, and loathe them with my soul ? " Dr M interrupted me, and I now write by my fireside, whither the Lord has conducted me again in safety, prepar- ing all things for my reception. I have finished both my dis- courses, and have had a season of discourse and prayer with the three women whose tears are the tokens of their emo- tion. 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 argu- ment. The University* makes progress, and the good-na- tured Doctor thinks he has mellowed 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 caught a Tartar. He has more of the whirlpool quality in him than any man I have 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 simplicity. Observe, Isabella, that the philosopher, or lover of Avisdom, is a grade higher than 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 Napoleon ; but no philosopher ever cared to be a king. Pythagoras, or Plato, or Socrates, for instance. There are no philosophers now-a-days, because 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 good-will of others, or the idolatry of himself. The Christian is both priest and king, a minister of Avisdom 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 ? 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 * London University, which was then heing established, and which, in consequence of the exclusion of religion, Irving strenuously opposed. 9 130 PRAYERS FOR THE ABSENT. 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-morrow's holy dawn, and all my people, and give 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 swaddling band, and salvation thy swathing round about thee ! And thou, my most excellent wife ! when shall these eyes behold thee, and these lips 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 iny wife like the ancient women, and my child like the seed of the Fathers of Thy Church. And, oh, that Thy servant might be held in remembrance by the generation of the godly. Bless also Thine handmaiden, our faithful servant. Even so, my family, let the blessing of God encompass us all. " Sunday, 30th. 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. In the morning I arose before eight, and having 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 warning, and admonish my dear Isabella, hoAV neces- sary 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 carry us away to look upon some vanity or folly in the kingdom of this world, and so divert our souls as that, when they come to lift themselves up to God, they shall find no concentration of spirit upon God, no sweet flow of holy de- sires, no strong feeling of want to extort supplication or groanings of soul ; so that we shall have complainings of ab- sence instead of consolations of His holy presence ; barren- ness and leanness for faithfulness and beauty. So, alas, I found 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 A SUNDAY'S SERVICES. 131 Dinwiddie, our worthy and venerable elder, came in as usual, and we joined in prayer for the blessing of the Lord upon the ministry of the Word this day throughout -all the churches, and especially in the church and congregation given into our hand ; whereupon he departed, having some preparations to make before the service, and I went alone, meditating upon the first of Hebrews, which has occupied my thoughts so much all the week. We began by singing the first six verses of the forty-fifth Psalm, whose reference to Messiah I shortly instructed the people to bear in mind. In prayer I found much liberty, especially in confession of sin and humiliation of soul, for the people seemed bowed down, very still and silent, and full of solemnity then, having read the first of Hebrews, I told them that it was the epistle for instructing them in the person and offices of Christ as our mediator, both priest and king ; but that it wholly bore upon the present being of the man 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 under- stood from the Grospel 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 believing 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 pro- phets, and exalts Him above all rank and comparison by declaring His inheritance, His workmanship, His prerogative of representing Grod, of upholding the universe, of purging our sins by Himself, and sitting at the right hand of the majesty on high. Then, addressing 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 belief of all the Jewish Church, from the earliest times, 132 EXPOSITION. were understood of Messiah ; which quotations, however, far surpass, infinitely surpass, the purpose for which they are quoted, placing Him, each one, on a level with God to us, at least, to whom that doctrine hath been otherwise revealed. But those Psalms looking forward to Messiah's glory can consequently 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 birth or of His ascension, the ' first-begotten ' is from 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 being 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 sentimentalists, who are Satan's prophets, and wear his livery of malice, and falsehood, and mocking merriment, while they forsook the prophets of the Lord, and their sublime, pathetic, true, wise, and ever- lasting forms of discourse. Then having begun with a prayer that the Lord would make the reading of this Epistle effec- tual 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 that 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 the Lord. The sermon* was from Phil. i. 21 ; to which I introduced their attention by explain- ing my object to show them the way to possess and be as- sured of that victory over death, of which, last Lord's day, I showed them the great achievement (1 Coi*. 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 life that was Christ, which I drew out of Gral. ii. 20, to consist in a total loss of personality and self, and surrender of all our being unto Him who had purchased us with His blood, leaving us no longer ' our own ' which condition of being, though it seem * This wonderful resume of the day's services will give a better idea than any description of the lengthened and engrossing character of these dis- courses, into which the preacher went with his whole soul and heart ; and of the extraordinary fascination which could hold his audience interested through exercises so long, close, and solemn. EVENING SERVICE. 133 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 with, and obedient to, the Father. Now this condition of life must insure to all who Lave reached to it, the same grace at death which Christ, the man Christ, the Messiah, by His resurrection, attained to or, if not wholly at death, partially then, and wholly at the resurrection. For 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 3rd of the Revela- tion to those who overcome. This gave me great purchase upon the subject, allowing me the whole scope of the con- trast between Christ's humiliation and exaltation; which having wrought according to my gift, I then proceeded to show the vanity of any lower estimate of the life which is ' Christ ' by touching many popular errors, such as place it in a sound faith merely, or in a correct morality, or in a re- ligious conformity, against which having opposed the uni- versality and unreservedness of obedience, the thoroughness of redemption, 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, showing them that the believer could not die hard, like the unbe- liever, or brutified, like the carnalist ; and I prayed them, when these doubtings came upon them, to remember that this day they had been warned by a minister of the Gospel. I had a good deal of matter still remaining, but Mr Lee's child being to be baptized, and the quarterly collection to be gathered, I stopped there the place being convenient. " We sang the three first verses of the 23rd Psalm, and concluded. Mr Hamilton walked home 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 with thankfulness, was sweet. Benjamin 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 the instruction of families, as the fount of nations, in God's holiness ;....! observed how it was, that idolatry in the people and true 134 HIS RESPONSIBILITY AS HEAD OF THE HOUSEHOLD. piety in the king, were found together ; even as, among the Roman Catholics, you have among the priests singular saints, while the body of the people are rank and gross idolaters The lecture was upon Luke xiii. 1 ; ( when I sought, first, to give the character of our Lord's ministry in their towns and villages, deriving it from the specimen of Nain, and other fragments from the preceding pages, its munifi- cence of well-doing, its public discourses, sifting and sounding the hearers, its private ministrations in houses and families, 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 regards me accountable for all my household. Therefore I exhort you all to holiness and love. The Lord unite us all in peace and blessedness. " Monday, 31st 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. What 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 confineth it. But to fret and consume away with struggles against the continent flesh, is rather the part of discontented and proud spirits, than of those who are en- lightened in the faith of Christ, to whom the encumbrance which weighs them down is a constant memorial of the resurrection, and by the faith of the resurrection, soothed down into patience and contentment. Besides, the bodily life is to them the period of destinies so infinite, and the means of charities so enlarged, 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 flesh, which is more' profitable to the Church. 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 who propose, for the first time, to join themselves to the church, at our approaching communion. When I came down to breakfast, my table was spread with the welcome news of Anne P 's merciful de- livery, which Mr M had come to tell me of, but not find- ing me, had written out. Sottomayor was waiting for me SCOTTISH ADVENTURERS. 135 and joined with us in our morning worship. He is in good cheer, but in want of another hour's teaching, 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 un- foreseen duties hindered me from fulfilling. Would you give that in trust to some one and let me know ? I think Sotto- mayor, the priest, is truly confirmed in the faith, and I have good reason to think that the soldier is finding relief for the multitude of his doubts. There came also to breakfast with me a Mr M and a Mr C (I think), of neither of whom I know anything, except that the former had met me in Glasgow. He has come to this town on adventure, like 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 looking 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 from my rule 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 what I believe to be the truth, that this coming upon venture from a place we are oc- cupied well, and sustained in daily food from our occupation, merely that we may rise in the world, is not a righteous thing before God, however approved by our ambitious country- men ; and though it may be successful in bringing them to what they seek, a fortune and an establishment in the world, it is generally 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 metropolis 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 our God doth not co-operate at all I began the duties of the day at ten o'clock, with Mrs C , the woman whom Lady Mack- intosh recommended to you for a matron. She has been a mother of tears, having lost, since she came to England, about twenty-five years ago, husband, and child, and mother, 136 THE PRIEST AND HIS CATECHUMENS. and brothers three, and all her kindred but one brother, who still lives in Buchan. The loss of her little daughter, at six years of age, by an accident upon the streets, brought her to the very 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 cheerful light from her eyes. But the Lord restrained this natural sorrow, that it should not work utter death, as its nature is to do, in consideration, I doubt not, of her faith, and for the further sanctification of her soul She left Scotland without her mother's consent (why, I did not venture to ask), and in six months her mother was no more to give or withhold her consent, which made her miseries in England have something in them, to her mind, of a mother's curse ; and this, 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 Mary, 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 written over with sorrow and sadness, like Mrs M 's, had been a mem- ber of Dr Nicol's church till his death, whose ministry had been to her a great consolation. Tell this to James Nicol when you see him ; and say that, now that he is inheriting his father's prayers, he must walk in his father's footsteps, and comfort the afflicted flock of Christ, which is our anointed calling, as it was that of our great Master. Obey this at the commandment of your husband. This woman satisfied me well, both as to knowledge and spirit, 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 aberra- tions 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 con- cern, 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, without any petty pride,' BO I found it here in the difference between the living spirit of the one's conversation and words, and the shaped formality and mea- sured cadence of the other. I propose looking here a little deeper ; but as I Jiave several days devoted to further in- struction, I made no demur at present, though I counselled them fervently and prayed with them both. My next was a A COMPANION FOR HIS ISABELLA. 137 Miss S , from Joknstone, near Paisley, who lias come to London to be under her brother's medical care, a fine Scotch head, with an art-pale countenance, and fine Grecian outline 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, Ave were able to commune and pray together to our mutual comfort. My last, at one o'clock, was Mrs R , a \vidow lady of most devout and intelligent appearance, who has been in the habit, for many months, of attending my Wednesday ministrations, bringing a son or a daughter in her hand, with the latter of whom, a sweet girl of about seven, she came attended. And we joined in dis- course, 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 cadet- ships ; afterwards to return, with her daughter, to the coun- try 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 occupa- tion she met with the healing of God to her own soul in the midst of scoffers and deriders (whereof the memory to men- tion drew the tears from her eyes) her eldest son, who had shown no signs of grace under her most careful instruction, being now, like herself, for the sake of the Hindostanee language, placed among the alien as his mother was, has since shown such a new character, and written such letters, as she never expected to receive from him; and then she communed with me of sweet domestic interests, in such a de- vout and simple way, with so many applications for instruc- tion, and such a tender interest in two half-caste daughters of her husband, whom she has cared for as her own, that I delight to think what 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. " I walked down to Mrs M 's, in order to inquire after Anne But time forestalls my wishes, dear Isa- bella. Twelve has struck, and the sweetest, holiest 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, 138 WEARINESS. soberness of reason, purity of life, and richness of character, as far outpasses in promise any youth that I have been the means of bringing unto Christ. And w.hen at nine we as- sembled 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 consideration of his weakness oh, Isabella, I felt like 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 forgot you and our separated family. After which, while I partook of my usual repast, I glanced at that very remark- able article ' Milton,' in the ' Edinburgh Review,' which came in from the library. I take it to be young Macaulay's. It is clever oh, it is full of genius ! but little grace. Theology of this day politics of this day neither sound. Oh, en- vious Time, why dunnest thou me ? Oh, envious Sleep, why callest thou me ? I write to my wife, to comfort and edify her, and bless her, and my babe, and my servant, and all my kindred of her father's honourable and pious house. "Well, I come. Farewell, my dear wife. " November ~Lst, Tuesday. The command of King George could not have made me take a pen in my hand this night, dearest Isabella ; and now that I have taken it in hand, I exceedingly question whether this weary head will drive it over another line. But, dear, your thanks with me ! I have had such a harvest of six precious souls, whose 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 pre- serve. " 2nd, Wednesday. It was well-nigh nine o'clock before I was recruited this morning with strength 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 da bodily and social labours. But I have risen, thank God, well recruited, and have proceeded thus far on the day (five o'clock) very prosperously. The first of my communicants yesterday was a Mary B , from Hatton Garden, a young woman of a sweet and gracious appearance and discourse, who, with her mother and a numerous family, were early cast upon God's care, who hath cared for them according to A SPIRIT FULL OF INSPIRATIONS. 139 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 that she left no doubt on my mind of her being, to the extent of her knowledge and talents, a faithful and true disciple. I shall seek another interview with her ; for I do not feel that I have got acquainted with her spirit, or else it is of so simple and catholic a form as to have no character to distinguish it. The next was my old ac- quaintance, 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 's, in Bloomsbury. I little expected 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 animal magnetism. I have a moral certainty that this is her temperament, and that her temporary instability was rather a somnambulism 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, friendless 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 feeling 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 inquiries; and even the word is but like an echo. Of her spirituality I have no doubt, though still she seems to me like a stranger. Her master at present is Dr. H , one of my brother's medical teachers here, who inquires at her occasionally about my brother, and about the Caledonian Church ; from which I presume that every one recognizes in her the same unlike- ness to another, and to her station. " These occupied me till eleven o'clock, after which I went forth to breathe the air into the garden, in expectation of an- other visitor ; and, as usxial, for his memory hangs on every twig, the little darling whom I used to fondle and instruct came to my remembrance, and bowed me down with a mo- mentary sorrow, which passed, full of sweetness, into what train of thought I have now forgotten. I occupied myself with my Convocation book, which is to me what a politician and Christian of the year 1600 would be, if I could have LAWS OF THE SOUL. him to converse with me and deliver his opinions. It em- bodies the ideas of the English Church, in full convocation, upon all points connected with the government of the Church and of the world ; 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 govern- ment. There are, my dear, certain great feelings or laws of the soul, under which it grows into full stature ; of which obedience to government is one, communion with the 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 Grod, 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 also, I think, ought to be made the basis of every system of moral and political philosophy. But all this is but looming upon my eye, and durst not be spoken in Scot- land, 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, asking 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 an- swer 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 pre- sence for one so unworthy, I return to my sweet occupation of making 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 addressed 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 write 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 RE-UNION OF YOUNG CHRISTIANS. 141 a young man, by name Peter Samuel, of a boyish appearance, very modest and backward, a native of Edinburgh, and by trade a painter in grain ; in whom, Isabella, I found such real utterance of the spirit, such an uplifted and enlarged soul, that I could but lie back upon my chair and listen. The Lord bless the youth ! It was very marvellous ; such grace, such strength of understanding, such meekness, such wisdom ! He is also one of the fruits of my ministry ; had wandered like a sheep without a shepherd, ' creeping by the earth,' until, in hearing me, he seemed exalted into the third heavens, at times hardly knowing whether he was in the body or out of the body. ' And all the day long, at my work, I am happy and in communion with the church, which is everywhere diffused around me like 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, bashful lad from Earlston, on the Leader, between Lauder and Melrose the residence, in days of yore, of Thomas the Rhymer who is come to town, to prosecute his studies as an artist. He is already in full communion 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 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 of the church. Poor Samuel had been lamenting his loneliness, but now his soul was filled with company who welcomed him to their heart ; and Scott had now one whose spirit and man- ners attracted him ; and I was lost in wonder how the Lord should work such things by my unworthiness. But remem- bering my ministerial calling, I opened to them the duty of self-denial in the expression of our spiritual experiences be- fore the world, lest they should profane the sanctuaries of our God ; and the necessity of wisdom to veil with parable and similitude, before the weak eye of man, the brightness of the pure and simple truth, reserving for the Lord and for his saints the unveiled revelations of our higher delights. Upon which life having enlarged to their great seeming con- tentment, we joined our prayers together, and they departed. Now these men who thus commune together are of most di- 142 "A VERY RICH HARVEST." yerse ranks. C is a gentleman's son ; E - , though of high expectations, has been reduced to fill some inferior office in Clement's Inn ; and the others, whom I know, are Scotch lads, working 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 returned home, I wrote a letter to Constantinople to L , who sends us the figs, exhorting him to stand fast among the alien ; which altogether was a day of such exhaustion as un- fitted 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 which 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 of the chief Shepherd, that I might even die for them if need were ! In all which spiritual conditions I am much en- couraged by what yesterday the Lord brought before me. " And now, dearest, this day hath been a day of thought which has hardly yet taken form to be distinctly repre- sented ; but on Sabbath I will communicate the result. Only I have had much insight given me into the Epistle to the G-alatians, 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 Grod, I returned 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 deserved ; which, if I be in strength, I shall do it another time. . . After the* lecture, ten more came desirous to converse with me ; so that I shall have, by the blessing of Grod, a very rich harvest this season. . . . The Lord be with thy spirit ! " Thursday, Nov. 3rd. Last night, my dearest Isabella, 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 dear sister Anne, who loved him as dearly as we all did, came in about three or four o'clock in the morning, and said, ' Get up, for Edward is much worse.' The sound of RECEIVING FRIENDS. 143 these words, caught in my sleeping ear, shot a cold shiver through ruy frame like the hand of death, and I arose. Of this I had not thought again till, last night on my bed, be- fore 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 remembered that the only method of dealing with him is by faith, and of overcoming him by the word of G-od. So I took his suggestion in good part, and meditated all the sufferings of the darling, which are too fresh upon my mind ; and sought to ascend, by that help, to the sympathy of our Lord's sufferings, and to take refuge (as the old divines say) in the clefts of His wounds till this evil should be overpast. Whereupon there came sweet exercises of faith, which occu- pied 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, Mr C . I was happy to understand from the former that Mr Cunningham, of Harrow, has become a violent opponent of the expediency principle in respect to the Apocrypha,* and think the com- mittee will come to the righteous conclusion, which will please our good father much. Mr C came on purpose to communicate the dying injunction of a friend who had been converted from Unitarianism by my discourse on that heresy last summer, and had died full of faith and joy before fulfilling his' purpose of joining my church. I trust he hath joined our Church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. As we went to the city together Mr Ker bore the same testimony to the blessing of my discourses to his soul. . . . For which I desire you to give thanks unto the Lord when you pray secretly, or with 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 through a terrible storm of afflictions, swimming for his life, and tried with great agony of the body ; but in his soul above measure strengthened and endowed with patience, and full of holy purposes 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 thanks- giving with one accord. * 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, which were vehemently opposed to the insertion of the Apocrypha along with the canonical Scriptures. 144 PASTORAL VISITS. " Thence I went on my way to our friends the G s, who now live in America Square, towards the Tower. I know not how it is, but I feel a certain infirmity and back- wardness to speak to Alex. Gr concerning spiritual things, though I love him, and believe 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 the effect of bringing him to signify his purpose of waiting upon me (I suppose concerning the communion). The Lord receive this worthy and honourable youth into the number of his chosen ! Thence returning, I felt an inclination 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, who has long walked with G-od, 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 Com- forter which 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 having ministered the word of warn- ing and exhortation, and prayed with one accord for the state of the sick, I went up to her bed-chamber 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 be- dimmed ; that her soul should the more long to escape from behind the dark eclipse of the clouds ; but not to disbelieve in His mercy, because her body burdened 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 continuing to kneel, and hold the hand of the dear saint, and comfort her, and utter many ejaculatory prayers for her soul's consolation ; and I was moved even to tears for the love of her soul. "With which having parted, her daughters, who remained behind, came down and told us that she was much comforted, and had pro- posed to compose herself to rest. The Lord rest her soul, and prepare it for His kingdom ! though I hope she may be restored again to health. . . . CORREGGIO'S " ST JOHN." 145 " Thence I proceeded to Bedford Square, by Cheapside, and gave Mr 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 faith ; 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, in his character, was the archangel of Radicalism, of which I reckon Henry Brougham to be the arch-fiend. But I found they had gone to Hannah More's for retirement and discourse. The Lord bless their communion ! I called at Mr Procter's to look at two mar- vellous heads by Correggio the one of the Virgin about to be crowned with stars ; the other of St John : certainly, be- yond 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 be like the Baptist and the beloved Apostle ; I would I were in spirit, for the flesh profiteth no- thing. Anne P and the child continue to do well, and the poet is already a very tender father The Coun- sellor and I had a good deal of private discourse He is a tender father, and a well-meaning man, but wilful ; and wilfulness, dear Isabella, is weakness and inutility ; the excess of will being to the same effect as the defect of will. Tet 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 ' Rome,' 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 cham- ber, thankful unto Thee, oh my Father, who hast protected thine unworthy child, and not allowed him this day to stray far from thy commandments. Thou hast made me to know -Thee ; Thou hast 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 ; en- treat 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 Elizabeth, my sister, persevere in the good part which thou hast chosen, and thou wilt find all that is pro- 10 146 ECCLESIASTICUS. mised to be true and faithful. And, my lovely Anne, be composed in thy spirit by God, who will deliver thee from all things 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 shadow of His wings this night ; and when we awake in the morning, may we be satis- fied with His likeness ! " Tuesday, Nov. 4