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THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 EDWARD IRVING. 
 
 V' OL. I. 
 
LONDOir 
 
 PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO. 
 
 NEW-STEEET SQUARE 
 
THE LIFE 
 
 OF 
 
 EDWARD IRVING, 
 
 MINISTER OF 
 
 THE NATIONAL SCOTCH CHURCH, LONDON. 
 
 illastwR!) bj l]is loarnals anb fiiJTOspnbratt. 
 
 BY MES. OLIPHANT. 
 
 “ Whether I live, I live unto the Lord ; and whether I die, I die unto the Lord 
 living or dying, I am the Lord’s.” Amen. 
 
 ^Vxixon, 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 SUCCESSOHS TO HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1862 . 
 
 The right of Translation is reserved. 
 
TO ALL WHO LOVE THE MEMORY OF 
 
 EDWARD IRVING: 
 
 WHICH THE WRITER HAS FOUND BY MUCH EXPERIMENT 
 TO MEAN ALL WHO EVER KNEW HIAI : 
 
 THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED. 
 
 IIG4C5 
 
PREFACE 
 
 TO 
 
 THE SECOND EDITION. 
 
 I AM glad to have the opportunity afforded by a Second 
 Edition of this book to correct some madvertent 
 errors, and to withdraw some words which, if not 
 inadvertent, were at least spoken without any intention 
 of giving pain or inflicting injury. I was not con- 
 scious that I had said anything of Professor Scott of 
 Manchester, which might not be said of a public man 
 Avithout offence or wrong ; but as it appears that many 
 competent judges think otherwise, I take the earliest 
 opportunity of withdrawing every expression of my 
 own opinion of his character from these pages. His 
 own friends who know him, and whose words are of 
 much more weight than mine, have, I am sure, more 
 than indemnified him by their championship for any 
 momentary wound which I can have given him ; and 
 as one of them, the Eev. F. D. Maurice, has declared 
 that the facts of this history are all in Mr. Scott’s 
 favour, and that only my own inferences are to blame, 
 I am glad to be able to withdraw these inferences 
 altogether, frankly admitting, what however I did not 
 see when I wrote them first, that they are unnecessary 
 
Vlll 
 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 to the narrative. I am sorry to have wounded Mr. 
 Scott’s feelings. I do not think so highly of my own 
 opinion as to believe that I can possibly have done 
 him any further injury. 
 
 I may take the same opportunity of thanking the 
 many friends of Irving who have expressed their 
 approbation of the history attempted in this book. 
 I dedicated it to those who loved his memory ; and 
 it is a pleasure to me to be able to say that it has 
 been accepted by them. Critics, unacquainted with 
 the man, may have accused me of panegyric and 
 enthusiasm ; but no one of the many who knew him, 
 his own friends, those best acquainted with his excel- 
 lences and errors, has yet taken exception to the 
 portrait as too laudatory or overdrawn. 
 
 M. 0. W. OLIPHANT. 
 
 Ealing: October 
 
PREFACE 
 
 TO 
 
 THE FIEST EDITION. 
 
 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 un- 
 thought-of ways by which I have been led to under- 
 take it, which are my apology to myself rather than 
 to the public ; but I may say that, in a matter so 
 complicated and dehcate, 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 hea^y 
 troubles out of a hfe so full of great love, faith, and 
 sorrow ; and I have found this hfe so much more 
 lofty, pure, and true than my imagination, that the pic- 
 ture, unfolding under my hands, has often made me 
 pause to think how such a painter as the Blessed 
 Angelico took the attitude of devotion at his labour, 
 and painted such saints on his knees. The large ex- 
 
X 
 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 tracts wliich, by the kindness of his surviving children, 
 I have been permitted to make from Irving’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 its heart and pur- 
 pose, is to do him greater justice than could be hoped 
 for from any other means of interpretation. 
 
 My thanks are due, first and above aU, 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 Monimail, and Miss Martin, Edin- 
 burgh ; to J. Pergusson, 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. H. Mac- 
 donald Hume, Esq.; James Bridges, Esq.; Eev. D. Ker, 
 Edinburgh ; Eev. J. M. Campbell, late of Eow ; J. 
 Hatley Prere, Esq., London ; Eev. A. J. Scott, of Man- 
 chester ; Dr. G. M. Scott, Hampstead; Eev. E. H. Story, 
 of Eosneath ; and other friends of Irving, some of 
 them now beyond the reach of earthly thanks — among 
 whom I may mention the late Henry Drummond, Esq., 
 of Albury, and Mrs. Win. Hamilton — who have kindly 
 placed letters and other memoranda at my disposal, or 
 given me the benefit of their personal recollections. 
 
 M. 0. W. OLIPHANT. 
 
 Ealing; April \^Q>2. 
 
CONTENTS OE THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HIS PARENTAGE AND CHILDHOOD. 
 
 The Irvings and Lowthers — Peculiarities of the Race — His Im- 
 mediate Family — Life in Annan — Universal Friendliness — 
 Traditions of the District — The Covenanters — Birth of Edward 
 — His Parents — Peggy Paine’s School — Hannah Douglas — 
 Annan Academy — Out-door Education — Solway Sands — Es- 
 caping from the Tide — Early Characteristics — Sunday Pil- 
 grimages — The Whigs ” — Ecclefechan — His Youthful Com- 
 panions — Strange Dispersion — Home Influences — Leaving 
 Annan Page I 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HIS COLLEGE LIFE. 
 
 Prolonged Probation of Scotch Ministers — Boy-Students — Inde- 
 pendence — Hard Training — Journeys on Foot — Early Reading 
 — Distinctions in Society — Patrons and Associates — Carlyle’s 
 Description of Irving — Early Labours 25 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 HADDINGTON. 
 
 The Doctor’s Little Daughter — The First Declension — Conflict 
 between Pity and Truth — New Friends — Sport and Study — 
 Holiday Science — Incident in St. George’s Church — Society 
 in Haddington — Bolton Manse — Young Companions — Extent 
 of his Work — Courage and Cheerfulness — Leaves Had- 
 dington 36 
 
Xll 
 
 CONTEXTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 KIRKCALDY. 
 
 Kirkcaldy Academy — Personal Appearance — Severe Discipline 
 
 — Doing all Things heartily — Kirkcaldy Sands — Milton Class 
 
 — Schoolboy Chivalry — “Much Respected Pupils” — Love- 
 making — Confidential Disclosures — Engagement — The Minister 
 of Kirkcaldy — The Manse Household — Sister Elizabeth — Her 
 Husband — Irving’s First Sermon — Superiority to “The Paper” 
 
 — “ Ower muckle Gran’ner ” — Other People’s Sermons — His 
 Thoughts about Preaching — In a Highland Inn — Warlike 
 Aspiration — General Assembly — Debate on Pluralities — Into- 
 lerance of Circumstances — Abbotshall School-house . Page 50 
 
 CtlAPTER V. 
 
 AFLOAT ON THE WORLD. 
 
 Bristo Street — Renewed Studies — Advice — Literary Societies 
 
 — Begins anew — Was his own Hearer — Undisturbed Belief — 
 His Haddington Pupil — Candour and Pugnacity — Clouded 
 Prospects — The Apostolic Missionary — Domestic Letters — 
 Carlyle — Hopes and Fears — Preaches in St. George’s, Edinburgh 
 
 — Suspense — Goes to Ireland — Wanderings — Invitation to 
 
 Glasgow — Interest in Church Affairs — Doubtful of his own 
 Success . . . -» 77 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 GLASGOAV. 
 
 Dr. Chalmers’s Helper — Condition of Glasgow — Irving’s Political 
 Sentiments — State of the Comitry in general — Irving’s Confidence 
 in the Radicals — The Calton Weavers — Chalmers and Irving — 
 Incessant Labours — The Parish of St. John — Its Autocrat — The 
 Shoemaker — “He kens about Leather” — Apostolic Benediction — 
 Intercourse with the Poor — A Legacy — The Help of a Brother 
 — “ It’s no himsel ” — Two Presbyters — The Pedlar — “A man on 
 Horse ” — The Howies — Holiday Adventures — Simplicity of 
 Lleart — Solemnity of Deportment — Convicts in Glasgow Jail — 
 Irving patronised by the Office-bearers — In the Shade — His 
 Loyalty and Admiration — The Bright Side — The Dark Side — 
 Missionary Projects renewed — The Caledonian Cha^^el, Hatton 
 Garden — Letter of Recommendation — Favourable Prognostica- 
 tions — Iiwing desires to go to London — His Pleasure in his Re- 
 
CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. xiii 
 
 ception there — Obstacles — The Caledonian Asylum — Pledges 
 himself to learn Gaelic — Bond required by the Presbytery — 
 Visits to Paisley — Removal of Obstacles — Rosneath — Happy 
 Anticipations — Farewell Sermon — Offers his Services in London 
 to all — Receives a Farewell Present — The Annandale Watch- 
 maker — A “ Singular Honour ” — Goes to London . Page 99 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LONDON, 1822. 
 
 First Appearance — Satisfaction with his New Sphere — His Thoughts 
 and Hopes — Outset in Life — Chalmers in London — Appeals to 
 Irving’s Sympathy — Progress in Popularity — “ Our Scottish 
 Youth” — Canning and Mackintosh — Happy Obscurity — The 
 “ Happy Warrior ” — The Desire of his Heart — His first House- 
 hold 150 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 1823. 
 
 The Orations — Irving’s much Experience in Preaching — Addresses 
 himself to Educated Men — Argument for Judgment to come — 
 Assailed by Critics — Mock Trial — Indictment before the Court 
 of Common Sense — Acquittal — Description of the Church and 
 Preacher — Influence of his Personal Appearance — Inconveniences 
 of Popularity — Success of the Book — A Rural Sunday — His 
 Marriage — His Wife — The Bridal Holiday — Reappearance in 
 St. John’s — Return to London — Preface to the Third Edition of 
 the Orations — His Dedications and Prefaces generally — Mr. 
 Basil Montagu — Irving’s Grateful Acknowledgments — His Early 
 Dangers in Society— Bedford Square — Coleridge — His Influence 
 on the Views of Irving — Social Charities — A Simple Pres- 
 byter 164 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 1824. 
 
 Failure of Health — Determination to do his Work thoroughly — 
 Proposes to write a Missionary Sermon — For Missionaries 
 after the Apostolical School — The Wandering Apostle — Con- 
 sternation of the Audience — ^Wrath of the Religious World 
 — A Martyr-Missionary — Publication of the Oration — An 
 Exeter Hall Meeting — Protest against the Machinery of Evan- 
 gelism — Dedication to Coleridge — Lavish Acknowledgments — 
 
XIV 
 
 CONTEXTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 Coldness and Estrangement — The Presbyterian Eldership — Its 
 Duties and Privileges — Irving forms his Kirk-session — Birth of 
 Little Edward — Personal Charities — A Lost Life — Hospitality — 
 Commencement of the New Church — Evangelical Journey — 
 Birmingham — Home Society — “In God he lived and 
 moved” Page 193 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 1825. 
 
 Irving’s Introduction to the Study of Prophecy — The Fascination 
 of that Study — His Conscientiousness in treating his Subjects — 
 Habits of Thought — Sermon to the Continental Society — Baby- 
 lon and Infidelity Foredoomed — Sermons on Public Occasions — 
 Hibernian Bible Society — An Afternoon among the Poor — 
 Irving’s “Way” — Invitation to remove to Edinburgh — His 
 Answer — His Manner of Life — The Paddington Coach — His 
 Letter of Welcome to his Wife — His Feelings in respect to his 
 Call to Edinburgh — Reasons for remaining in London — Ser- 
 mons on the Trinity — Opinions in respect to Miracles — Sacra- 
 ment of Baptism — Original Standards — Baptismal Regenera- 
 tion — Little Edward’s Illness and Death — Sorrow and Consola- 
 tion — Irving’s Announcement of his Child’s Death — Little 
 Edward’s Memory — “A Glorious Bud of Being” — Irving visits 
 the Sorrowful in Kirkcaldy 220 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 JOURNAL. 
 
 Wanderings among the Hills — An Apostolical Journey — Annan — 
 Incidents of a Stage-coach Journey — Arrival at Home — Com- 
 mencement of Journal-letters — Morning Worship — Historical 
 Reading — Bishop Overall’s Convocation Book — “Idolatry of the 
 Memory ” — Devotion and Study — Visions of the Night — 
 Breakfast Party — A Day in the City — Book-stalls — Christian 
 Counsel — In Faintness and Fervour — “For the Consolation of 
 Edward’s Mother ” — The Secret of Fellowship — Influence of the 
 Landscape — Wisdom and Power — Prayers for the Absent — 
 Interceding for the People — A Sunday’s Services — Exposition 
 
 — Sermon — Evening Service — His Responsibility as Head of 
 the Household — At Home — Scottish Adventurers — The Priest 
 and his Catechumens — Two Sisters — A Companion for his Isabella 
 
 — A Son from the Lord — Weariness — A Spirit full of In- 
 spirations — Returns to the Convocation Book — Study — A Re- 
 
CONTENTS OF THE FIEST VOLUME. 
 
 XV 
 
 union of Young Christians — Self-denial in Eeligious Conver- 
 sation — “A very rich Harvest ” — Temptations of Satan — 
 Pastoral Visits — A Sick-Bed — Correggio’s “St. John” — 
 Prayers — Ecclesiasticus — Deteriorating ElFect of a Great City 
 
 — Two London Boys — A Logical Companion — Sunday Ser- 
 vices — Want of Faith — Little Edward’s Ministry — An Intel- 
 lectualist — Influence of Custom — Eemonstrance about Length 
 of Services — The Peace-Offering — Philanthropy — The Mys- 
 tery of the Trinity — Missionaries — Leadings in Hebrew — 
 Letters of Introduction — The Church as a House — Simple and 
 Unprovided Faith — Funeral Services — The Twelfth Day of 
 the Month — Sunday Morning — Presentiments — True Brother- 
 hood — The Prodigal Widow — Undirected Letters — A London 
 Sponging-house — Joseph in Prison — From House to House — 
 Christian Intercourse — Domestic Worship — A Death-bed — A 
 Good Voyage — The Theology of Medicine — The Glory of God 
 
 — Huskiness about the Heart — The Spirit of a Man — Different 
 Forms of the Worldly Spirit — Try the Spirits — A Benediction to 
 the Absent — Visions of the Night — Sunday — The Ministry of 
 Women — Morning Visitors — A Dream — Sceptics — The Four 
 Spirits — Eeligious Belles — Best Manner of contending with 
 Infidelity — A Subtle Cantab — A Circle of Kinsfolk — Pleasures 
 of the Table: Pea-soup and Potatoes — The Spirit of a Former 
 Age — The Lost Sheep — The Influence of the Holy Spirit — 
 New Testament History of the Church — The Sons of God and 
 the Daughters of Men — Wisdom — Farewell Counsels — A 
 Funeral — The Joy of Grief — Management — Deterioration — 
 The New Church — Ministerial Liberty — Dreams of Edward — 
 The Spirit of Prayer — “ My Dumfriesshire ” — Paralytic in 
 Soul — Under-current of Thought during Prayer — Money, the 
 Universal Falsehood — Lessons in Spanish — The Wings of Love 
 
 — Parables — Tokens of God’s Blessing — Irving’s Anxiety about 
 his Wife’s Journey — A Young Visitor — A “ Benedict ” — Evils 
 of Formality — Benediction — Irving’s only Journal Page 249 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 1826 — 1827 . 
 
 The Headship of Christ — A Baptized Christendom — Expansion — 
 Ben-Ezra — The Spanish J esuit — Irving’s Consistency — A 
 Clu’istian Nation — Political Opinions — Eest and Eelaxation — 
 Beckenham — His “ Helper meet for him ” — The Hibernian 
 Bible Society — Albury — Henry Drummond — Conference for 
 the Study of Prophecy — Concerning the Second Advent — A 
 
XVI 
 
 CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 School of Prophets — Irving’s Verses — The Antichrist — A 
 Herald of the Lord’s Coming — Signs of the Times — The Fife 
 Bank — Help and Consolation — Opening of National Scotch 
 Church — Unanimity of the Congregation — Dr. Chalmers’s 
 Diary — Irving keeps Chalmers waiting — Dr. Chalmers shakes 
 his Head — Important Crisis — Fashion went her Idle Way — 
 Irving’s own Evidence on the Subject — Reality — Cessation of 
 the Crowd — “ The Plate ” — Irving’s Offering — The Bible 
 Society — A May Meeting — A Moment of Depression — Projects 
 for the Future — Lectures on Baptism — Seed-time — Ordination 
 Charge — Vaughan of Leicester — The Light that never was on 
 Sea or Shore Page 376 
 
EDWAKD IRVING. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 HIS PARENTAGE 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 revolution, and the other nations of Christen- 
 dom were crowding in, curious and dismayed, to see 
 that spectacle which was to result in so many other 
 changes ; but far away from all those outcries and 
 struggles, in the peaceful httle Scotch town of Annan, 
 Edward Irving, 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 knomi, 
 but undistinguished, who followed the humble occu- 
 pation 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 French Protestant refugees, one 
 of whom had become parish minister in Annan, and 
 has left behind him some recollections of lively wit 
 worthy his race, and a tombstone, with a quaint in- 
 VOL. I. B 
 
2 
 
 THE IRVINGS AND LOWTHERS. 
 
 scription, wliicli is one of the wonders of the melancholy 
 and crowded churchyard, or rather bnrying-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 characterises as “ Uncle Tristram of 
 Dornoch, the wilful,” seems to have been one of the 
 acknowledged characters of that characteristic country. 
 He lived and died a bachelor, saving, litigious and ec- 
 centric ; and, determined to enjoy in his lifetime that 
 fame which is posthumous to most men, he erected his 
 own tombstone in Dornoch churchyard, recording on 
 it the most memorable of his achievements. The 
 greatest of these were, winning a lawsuit in which he 
 had been engaged against his brothers, and buildiug a 
 bridge. It appears that he showed true wisdom in 
 getting what satisfaction he could out of this auto- 
 biographical essay while he hved ; for his respectable 
 heirs have balked Tristram, and carried away the 
 characteristic monument. Another brother hves 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 httle 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 
 
PECULIAEITIES OF THE EACE. 
 
 3 
 
 wastes of London. The other guests in the great sanded 
 kitchen, where they were all assembled, amused them- 
 selves with an attempt to “ chaff” and aggravate the 
 stranger ; and finding this tedious work, one rash joker 
 went so far as to insult him, and invite a quarrel. 
 George Lowther bore it long, probably slow to com- 
 prehend the idea of quarrelling with such antagonists ; 
 at last, when his patience was exhausted, the giant, 
 grimly humorous, if not angry, seized, some say 
 a great iron spit from the wall, some a poker from the 
 hearth, and twisting it round the neck of his unfortu- 
 nate assailant, quietly left him to the laughter and con- 
 dolences of his comrades till a blacksmith could be 
 brought to release him from that impromptu pillory. 
 Gavin Irving’s wife was of this stout and primitive 
 race. Her activity and cheerful, high-spirited comehness 
 are still well remembered by the contemporaries of her 
 children ; and even the splendour of the scarlet riding- 
 skirt and Leghorn hat, in which she came home as a 
 bride, are still reflected in some old memories. 
 
 The families on both sides were of competent sub- 
 stance and reputation, and rich in individual character. 
 No wealth, to speak of, existed among them : a little 
 patriarchal foundation of land and cattle, from which 
 the eldest son might perhaps claim a territorial desig- 
 nation if his droves found prosperous market across 
 the border ; the younger sons, trained to independent 
 trades, one of them, perhaps, not disdaining to throw his 
 plaid over his shoulder and call his dog to his heels 
 behind one of these same droves, a sturdy novitiate 
 to his grazier fife ; while the inchnations of another 
 might quite as naturally and suitably lead him to such 
 
4 
 
 HIS IMMEDIATE FAMILY. 
 
 study of law as maybe necessary for a Scotch “writer,” 
 or to the favourite and most profoundly respected of 
 all professions, “ the ministry,” as it is called in Scot- 
 land. The Irving and Lowther famihes embraced both 
 classes, with all the intermediary steps between them ; 
 and Gavin Irving and his wife, in their httle house at 
 Annan, stood perhaps about midway between the 
 homely refinement of the Dumfriesshire manses and 
 the rude profu^sion 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, one of whom stiU survives, the 
 last of her family. AH the sisters seem to have left 
 representatives behind them ; but John and George 
 both died unmarried before the death of their dis- 
 tinguished brother. The eldest, whom old friends 
 speak of as “ one of the handsomest young men of his 
 day,” and whom his father imagined the genius of the 
 family, died obscurely in India on Edward’s birthday, 
 the 4th of August, in the prime of his manhood, a 
 medical officer in the East India Company’s service. 
 He was struck down by jungle fever, a sharp and sud- 
 den blow, and his friends had not even the satisfaction 
 of knowing fully the circumstances of his death. But 
 henceforward the day, made thus doubly memorable, 
 was consecrated by Edward as a solemn fast-day, and 
 spent in the deepest seclusion. Under the date of a 
 letter, written on the 2nd of August some years after, 
 he writes the following touching note : — “4 August^ Dies 
 natalis atque fatalis inciditA translated underneath by 
 himself “ The day of birth and of death draweth nigh.” 
 
LIFE IN ANNAN. 
 
 5 
 
 — the highest art could not have reared such a monu- 
 ment to the early dead. 
 
 The stormy firmament under which these children 
 were born, and all the commotions going on in the 
 outside world, scarcely seem to have fluttered the still 
 atmosphere of the little rural town in wliich 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 natimal 
 sphere. The Kirk lay dormant, by times respectable 
 and decorous, by times, unfortunately, much the reverse, 
 but very seldom reaching a higher point than that of 
 respectabihty. Pohtics did not exist as an object of popu- 
 lar interest. The “Magistrates” of Annan elected their 
 sixth part of a member of Parhament dutifully as his 
 Grace’s agents suggested, and gleaned poor posts in the 
 Customs and Excise for their dependent relations. The 
 parish school, perhaps of a deeper efficiency than anything 
 else in the place, trained boys and girls together mto stout 
 practical knowledge, and such rude classic learning as 
 has estabhshed itself throughout Scotland. High Puri- 
 tanism, such as is supposed to form the distinguishing 
 feature of Scotch communities, was undreamed of in 
 this httle town. According to its fashion Annan was 
 warmly hospitable and festive, living in a little round 
 
6 
 
 UNIVEESAL FEIENDLINESS, 
 
 of social gaieties. These gaieties were for the most 
 part tea parties, of a description not now known, unless, 
 perhaps, they may still huger in Annan and its com- 
 panion-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 degree of joviahty. The famihes 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 in- 
 stinctively form of the state of matters at that stirring 
 epoch, than this httle neutral-coloured community, dimly 
 penetrated by its weekly newspaper, hving a long way 
 off from all starthng events, and only waking into know- 
 ledge of the great commotions going on around, when 
 other occurrences had obhterated them, and their in- 
 terest 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 throughout the world. The An- 
 nan 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 
 
TRADITIONS OF THE DISTRICT. 
 
 7 
 
 an oatli even wlien constantly frequenting places where 
 oaths were very usual embelhshments of conversation. 
 Eeligion had httle active existence in the place, as 
 may be supposed; but the decorum which preserved 
 the minister’s Sundays in unimpeachable sobriety kept 
 up throughout the community a certain religious habit, 
 the legacy of a purer generation. Household psalms 
 still echoed of nights through the closed windows, and 
 children, brought up among few other signs of piety, 
 were yet trained in the habit of family prayers. This 
 was almost all the relimon which existed in Puritan 
 
 o 
 
 Scotland in these eventful French Eevolution days ; and 
 even this was owing more to the special traditions of 
 the soil in such a region as Annandale, than to any 
 deeper impulse of faith. 
 
 For outside this comfortable prosaic world was a 
 world of imagination and poetry, never to be dis- 
 severed from that border country. Strange difference 
 of a few centuries ! The Annandale droves went peace- 
 ably to the southern market past many a naked peel- 
 house and austere tower of defence on both sides of the 
 border ; but the country, watched and guarded by these 
 old apparitions, had not forgotten the moss-troopers : 
 and far more clearly and strongly, Avith vision scarcely 
 sufficiently removed from the period even to be im- 
 partial, the district which held the Stones of Eongray, 
 and enclosed many a Covenanter’s grave, remembered 
 that desperate fever and frenzy of persecution 
 through which the Eiirk had once fought her way. I 
 recollect, at a distance of a great many years, the energy 
 Avith Avhich a woman-servant from that countryside 
 told tales of the “ Lag,” who is the Claverhouse of the 
 
8 
 
 THE COVENANTEES. 
 
 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 unsen- 
 timental, have no compunctions about delivering over 
 to Satan. This old world of adventurous romance and 
 martyr legend thrilled and palpitated around the villages 
 of Annandale. The educated people in the town, the 
 writer or the doctor, or possibly the minister, all the 
 men who were wiser than their neighbours, might per- 
 haps entertain enlightened views touching those Cove- 
 nanter fanatics whom enlightened persons are not sup- 
 posed 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 sufirages. And perhaps 
 few people out of the reach of such an influence, can 
 comprehend the effect which is produced upon the 
 ardent, young, inexperienced imagination by those fa- 
 miliar 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 as nothing after can ever 
 efface or obliterate ; and it has the efiect — an effect I 
 confess not very easily explainable to those who have 
 not experienced it — of weaving round the bald services 
 of the Scotch Church a charm of imagination more 
 entrancing and visionary than the highest poetic 
 ritual could command, and of connectmg her absolute 
 
BIRTH OF EDWARD. 
 
 9 
 
 canons and unpicturesque economy with the highest 
 epic and romance of 'national faith. Perhaps this warm 
 recollection of her martyrs, and of that fervent devo- 
 tion which alone can make martyrs possible, has done 
 more to neutralise the hard common sense of the 
 country, and to preserve the Scotch Church from over- 
 legislating herself into decrepitude, than any other in- 
 fluence. We too, hke 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 Irvmg received 
 his first impressions. He was born on the 4th of 
 August, 1792, in a httle house near the old town-cross 
 of Annan. There he was laid in his wooden cradle, to 
 watch with unconscious eyes the hght commg in at the 
 low, long window of his mother’s narrow bedchamber ; 
 or rather, according to the ingenious h 3 rpothesis of a 
 medical friend of his own, to he exercising one eye 
 upon that hght, and intensifying into that one eye, by 
 way of emphatic unconscious prophecy of the future 
 habit of his soul, ah his baby power of vision — a power 
 which the other eye, hopelessly obscured by the wooden 
 side of the cradle, was then unable to use, and never 
 after regained ; an explanation of the vulgar obhquity 
 called a squint, wliich I venture to recommend to ah 
 unprejudiced readers. The stairs which led to Mrs. 
 Irving’s bedchamber ascended tlirough 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, mconceivably small room, in 
 which to rear ^ a family of eight stalwart sons and 
 
10 
 
 HIS PAEENTS. 
 
 daughters, and to exercise all the hospitahties 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 hved in the full exercise of his un- 
 savoury occupation, with his children growing up round 
 him ; a quiet man, chiefly visible as upholding the 
 somewhat severe disciphne of the schoolmaster against 
 the less austere virtue of the mother, who, handsome and 
 energetic, was the ruling spirit of the house. It is from 
 Mrs. Irvmg that her family seem to have taken that 
 somewhat solemn and dark type of beauty which, mar- 
 red only by the intervention of the wooden cradle, 
 became famous in the person of her illustrious son. I 
 do not say that she realised 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 distinguished her generation of Scottish 
 women ; and which, perhaps, with the shrewdness and 
 characteristic individuality which accompany it, is of 
 more importance to the race and nation than any de- 
 gree 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 hke my mother.” The devoutest evangehcal 
 believer might forgive the son for that fond and fihal 
 saying. It is clear that no conventional manner of 
 speech, thought, or barrier of ecclesiastical proprieties 
 unknoAvn to nature, had hmited the mother of those 
 eight Irvings, whom she brought up accordingly in all 
 the freedom of a life almost rmral, yet amid all the 
 
PEGGY PAINE’S SCHOOL. 
 
 11 
 
 warm and kindly influences of a community of friends. 
 To be born in such a place and such a house, was to 
 come into the world entitled to the famihar knowledge 
 and aflection 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 “ Edward ” when 
 a stranger names his name. 
 
 The first appearance which Edward Irving made out 
 of this house with its wooden cradle, was at a httle 
 school, preparatory to more serious education, kept by 
 “Peggy Paine,” a relation of the unfortunate tailor- 
 sceptic, who in those days was in uneasy quarters in 
 Paris, in the midst of the revolution. An old woman, 
 now settled for her old age in her native town, who 
 had in after years encountered her great to\vnsman in 
 London, and remaining loyally faithftd to his teaching 
 aU her hfe, is now, I suppose, the sole representative in 
 Annan of the religious body commonly called by his 
 name, remembers in those old vernal days how Edward 
 helped her to learn her letters, and how they two 
 stammered into their first syllables over the same book 
 in Peggy Paine’s httle school. This was the begimiing 
 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 strugghng in her own sphere through the 
 troubles of that stormier world, her old schoolfellow 
 stretched out his cordial hand to her, without a moment’s 
 
12 
 
 HAraAH DOUGLAS. 
 
 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 them- 
 selves of the intercession 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- 
 phshed, as perhaps ought to have happened to make 
 the mcident poetically complete ; but I cannot help 
 regarding it as one of the pleasantest of anecdotes. 
 Hannah fives at Annan, an old woman, pensioned by 
 the grateful representative of the family whom she had 
 faithfully served, and tells with tears this story of her 
 friend ; and stands a homely, solitary pillar, the repre- 
 sentative of the “Cathohc Apostohc Church” in the 
 place which gave its most distinguished member birth. 
 
 The next stage of Edward’s education was greatly hi 
 advance 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, who taught the 
 young Irvings, and after them a certain Thomas Carlyle 
 from Ecclefechan, with other not undistinguished men. 
 
ANNAN ACADEMY. 
 
 13 
 
 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 evidence of 
 ambition. The female schools in existence were dis- 
 tinctively sewing schools, and did not pretend to do 
 much for the intellect ; so that boys and girls trooped 
 in together, alike to the parish-school and the superior 
 Academy, sat together 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 htera- 
 ture. Under the severe discipline of those days, he 
 sometimes came home from school with his ears “pinched 
 until they bled,” to his mother’s natural resentment ; but 
 found no solace to his wounded feehngs or members 
 from his father, who sided with the master, and does 
 not seem to have feared the effect of such trifles upon 
 the sturdy boys who were all destined to flght their 
 way upward by the brain rather than the hands. The 
 only real ghmpse which is to be obtained of Edward in 
 his school days discloses the mournful picture of a 
 boy “ kept in,” and comforted in the ignominious soh- 
 tude of the school-room by having his “ piece ” hoisted 
 up to him by a cord through a broken window. How- 
 ever, he showed some liking for one branch of educa- 
 tion, that of mathematics, in which he afterwards dis- 
 
14 
 
 OUTDOOR EDUCATION. 
 
 tinguished 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 httle town, however, was not destitute of classical 
 ambition. Tradition tells of a certain bhnd 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 professors did not scorn to 
 acknowledge his attainments. It is probable that 
 Edward did not study under this unauthorised in- 
 structor ; and the orthodox prelections of the Academy 
 did not develop the hterary inclinations of the athletic 
 boy, who found more engrossing interests in every glen 
 and hillside. Eor nothing was wanting to the perfec- 
 tion of his education out of doors. There were hills 
 to climb, a river close at hand, a hospitable and friendly 
 country to be explored ; and the miniature port at the 
 Waterfoot, where impetuous Solway bathed with tawny 
 salt waves the httle 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, chmbing, all sorts of open-air exer- 
 cises. The main current of his energy flowed out in 
 this direction, and not in that of books. His scattered 
 Idndred gave fuU occasion for long waU^s and such 
 local knowledge as adventurous schoolboys dehght in ; 
 and when he and his companions went to Dornoch, to 
 his mother’s early home, where his uncles stiU lived, 
 it was Edward’s amusement, says a surviving relative. 
 
SOLWAY SANDS. 
 
 15 
 
 to leap all the gates in the way._ This fact survives all 
 the speculations that may have been in the boy’s brain 
 on that rural, thoughtful road. His thoughts, if he had 
 any, dispersed into the listening air and left no sign ; but 
 there can be no mistake about the leaping of the gates. 
 
 In this early period of his hfe he is said to have met 
 with an adventure, sufficiently picturesque and impor- 
 tant to be recorded. Every one who knows the 
 Solway is aware of the peculiarities of that singular 
 estuary. When the tide is fuU, a nobler firth is not to 
 be seen than this brimming fiood of green sea-water, 
 with Skiddaw glooming on the other side over the 
 softer slopes of Cumberland, and Crifiel standing sen- 
 tinel 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 
 httle desert standing bare in the very midst of its chan- 
 nel, 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 accomphshed, and which 
 might furnish a little variation upon the ancient ro- 
 mantic routine of Gretna Green, as the ferryman at the 
 Brough was in former times equally qualified with the 
 blacksmith at the border toU, 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 
 
16 
 
 ESCAPING FKOM THE TIDE. 
 
 of the space he has to fill, and is a dangerous play- 
 fellow when “ at the turn.” One day, while they were 
 still children, John and Edward Irving are 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 freedom. Li that wilderness of sand and 
 shingle, with its gleaming salt-water pools clear as so 
 many mirrors, fuU of curious creatures still unknown 
 to drawing-room science, but not to schoolboy observa- 
 tion, the boys presently forgot all about their imme- 
 diate errand, and, absorbed in their own amusements, 
 thought neither of their uncle nor of the rising tide. 
 While thus occupied, a horseman suddenly came up to 
 them at fuU 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 perceiving 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 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 chap- 
 ters of individual hfe in the nineteenth century need 
 never have been written; and his native seas, less 
 
EARLY CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 17 
 
 bitter than the sea of 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 minutest point of time the mists of sixty years, 
 and shows us two urgent childish petitioners, Edward 
 wdth his little brother George, at the door of a neigh- 
 bour’s house in Annan, where there was a party, at which 
 Mrs. Irving was one of the guests. Edward was so 
 pertinacious in his determination to see his mother, 
 that the circumstance impressed itself upon the me- 
 mory of one of the children of the house. Mrs. Irving 
 at last went to the door to speak to her children, 
 probably apprehensive of some domestic accident ; but 
 found that the occasion of all this urgency was Edward’s 
 anxiety to be permitted to give some of his own 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 
 shght as the incident is, it is stiU appropriate to the 
 early history of one who in his after days could never 
 give enough, to whosoever lacked. 
 
 Even at this early period of his existence, it has 
 been said that Irving was prematurely solemn and 
 remarkable in his manners, “ making it apparent that 
 he was not a child as others,” and having “ a significant 
 elevation of manners and choice of pleasures.” I can 
 find no traces of any such precocity ; nor is it easy 
 to fancy how a natural boy, in such a shrewd and 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 SUNDAY PILGRIMAGES. 
 
 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 
 shghtest 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 schoolboy, was such as all children of lively mind and 
 generous sympathies love. At this early period of his 
 life it was his occasional habit on Sundays to walk five 
 or six miles to the little village of Ecclefechan, in com- 
 pany with a pilgrim band of the religious patriarchs of 
 Annan, to attend a httle church established there by 
 one of the earlier bodies of seceders from the Church 
 of Scotland ; an act which has been attributed to his 
 dissatisfaction with the preaching and character of the 
 Annan minister, already referred to, and his precocious 
 appreciation of sound doctrine and fervent piety. The 
 fact is doubtless true enough ; but I think it very 
 unlikely that any premature love for sermons or dis- 
 crimination of their quality was the cause. Scotch 
 dissenters, in their earher development at least, were all 
 doubly Presbyterian. The very ground of their dissent 
 was not any widening out of doctrine or alteration of 
 Church government, but only a re-assertion and closer 
 return to the primitive principles of the Kirk itself — 
 a fact which popular discrimination in the south of 
 Scotland acknowledged by referring back to the unfor- 
 gotten “ persecuting times ” for a name, and entithng 
 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 
 
19 
 
 THE “WHIGS.” 
 
 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 covenanting 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 dis- 
 tricts : and those epics were all covenanting tales — 
 tragedies abrupt and forcible, or lingering, long-drawn 
 narratives, more fascinating still, in which aU 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 firesides, 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 highbacked chair with its 
 checked hnen cover ; and with a curiosity still more 
 wistful and eager, as though about to see those 
 triumphs of faith repeated, trudged forth in the 
 summer Sunday afternoons, unbonneted, with his black 
 locks ruffling in the wind and his cap in his hand, amid 
 the little band of patriarchs, through hedgerows frag- 
 rant with every succession of blossom, to where the 
 
20 
 
 ECCLEFECHAN. 
 
 low grey hills closed in around that little hamlet of 
 Ecclefechan, Ecclesia Fecliani^ forgotten shrine of 
 some immemorial Celtic saint ; a scene not grandly 
 picturesque, but full of a sweet pastoral freedom and 
 sohtude ; 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, tinkhng unseen among the 
 grass and underwood to join some bigger but still tiny 
 tributary of the Annan, streams which had no pre- 
 tensions 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 Eoman camp 
 indented on its side, that with its melancholy Eepen- 
 tance Tower standing out upon the height ; the moor 
 brightens forth as one approaches into sweet breaks of 
 heather and golden clumps of gorse ; the burns sing 
 in a never-faihng liquid cheerfulness through all their 
 invisible courses ; freedom, breadth, silence, touched 
 with all those delicious noises : the quiet hamlets and 
 cottages breathing forth that aromatic betrayal of all 
 their warm turf fires. Place in this landscape that 
 grave group upon the way, bending their steps to the 
 rude meeting-house in which their austere worship 
 was to be celebrated, holding discourse as they ap- 
 proached upon subjects not so much of religious 
 feeling as of high metaphysical theology; with the 
 boy among them, curiously attracted by their talk, 
 timing his elastic footsteps to their heavy tread, making 
 
HIS YOUTHFUL COMPANIONS. 
 
 21 
 
 his unconscious comments, a wonderful impersonation 
 of perennial youth and genius, half leading, half fol- 
 lowing, always specially impressed by the grey fathers 
 of that world which dawns all fresh and dewy upon his 
 own vision ; and I cannot fancy a better picture of old 
 Scotland as it was in its most characteristic districts 
 and individual phase. 
 
 This seems the only foundation from which pre- 
 cocious seriousness can be inferred, and it is an impor- 
 tant and interesting feature of his boyhood. The 
 Whig elders no doubt unconsciously prepared the 
 germs of that old-world statehness of speech and dig- 
 nity of manner which afterwards distinguished their 
 pupil ; and they, and the traditions to which they 
 had served themselves heirs, made all the higher 
 element and poetry of hfe which was to be found in 
 Annan. Their influence, however, did not withdraw 
 him from the society of his fellows. The social 
 
 instinct was at all times too strong in him to be pre- 
 vented from making friends wherever he found com- 
 panions. His attachment to his natural comrade, his 
 brother John, is touchingly proved by the fact we 
 have already noted ; and another boyish friendship, 
 formed with Hugh Clapperton the African 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 fire- 
 side corner, where they learned their lessons ; and the 
 adventurous instinct of young Clapperton evidently 
 
22 
 
 STKAXGE DISPERSIOX. 
 
 had no small influence upon the dreams, at least, of 
 his younger companion. Of these three boys, so 
 vigorous, bold, and daring, not one hved to be old ; 
 and their destinies are a singular proof of the wide 
 diffusion of hfe and energy circhng out from one of 
 the most obscm:e spots in the country. One was to 
 die in India, uncommemorated except by love ; one in 
 Africa, a hero (or victim) of that dread science which 
 makes stepping-stones of men’s lives ; the third, at a 
 greater distance still from that boyish 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 wdiich they were destined. The friend- 
 ship that commenced thus was renewed when Clapper- 
 ton and Irving met in London, both famous men ; and 
 the last communication sent to England by the dying 
 traveller was addressed to his early friend. 
 
 The little town was at this period in a prosperous 
 condition, and thriving well. When war quickened 
 the traffic in provisions, and increased their value, 
 Annan exported corn as well as droves. But the in- 
 dustry of the population w^as 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,” the fishermen lounged about the Cross, or 
 amused themselves in their gardens, till that windfall 
 
HOME INFLUENCES. 
 
 23 
 
 was spent and exhausted, very much as if they had 
 been mere Celtic fishermen instead of cautious Scots ; 
 and the slow gains of the careful burgesses came more 
 from economy than enterprise. Gavin Irving, however, 
 made progress in his tanner’s yard : he became one of 
 the magistrates of Annan, whose principal duty it was 
 to go to church in state, and set an official example of 
 well-doing. Tradition does not say whether his son’s 
 passion for the Whigs, and expeditions to the Seceders’ 
 meeting-house at Ecclefechan, brought any “persecution” 
 upon the boy ; so it is probable those heterodox preach- 
 ings were attended only in summer evenings, and on spe- 
 cial occasions, when Annan kirk was closed. There were 
 clerical relations on both sides of the house scattered 
 through Dumfriesshire, to whom the boys seem to have 
 paid occasional visits ; one of them. Dr. Bryce John- 
 stone, of Holywood, an uncle of Mrs. Irvmg’s, being a 
 notable person among his brethren ; but, farther than 
 the familiarity which this gave with the surrounding 
 country, no special traces of the advantages of such 
 intercourse exist. The loftier aspect of rehgion was in 
 the Whig cottages, and not in those cosy manses to which 
 Dr. Carlyle, of Inveresk, has lately introduced aU readers. 
 
 It would be almost impossible to exaggerate the in- 
 fluence which all the homely circumstances and habits 
 of his native place exercised upon a mind so open to 
 every influence as that of Irving. Despite his own strong 
 individuality, he never seems to have come in contact 
 with any mind of respectable powers without taking 
 something from it. His eyes were always open, his 
 ingenuous heart ever awake ; and the enthusiastic ad- 
 miration of which he was capable stamped such things 
 
24 
 
 LEAVING ANNAN. 
 
 as appeared to him lovely, or honest, or of good repute, 
 indelibly upon his mind. Much that would be other- 
 wise inexplicable in his later life is explained by this ; 
 and it is not difficult to trace the workings of those 
 early influences which surrounded him in his childhood 
 throughout his hfe. That, however, will be more effec- 
 tually done as the story advances than by any parallel 
 of suggestions and acts. His school education in Annan 
 )C terminated when he was only thirteen, without any 
 distinction except that arithmetical one wliich has been 
 already noted. This concluded the period of his child- 
 hood : his next step subjected him to other influences 
 not less powerful, and directed the course of his young 
 life away from that home which always retained his 
 affections. The home remained planted in his kindly 
 native soil for many years, long enough to receive his 
 children under its roof, and many of his friends, and 
 always honoured and distinguished by himself in its 
 unchanging homeliness. His childish presence throws 
 a passing light over httle Annan, rude and kindly, with 
 its fragrant aroma of peat from all the cottage fires ; its 
 quiet street, where groups of talkers gathered in many 
 a leisurely confabulation; its neighbourly existence, close 
 and familiar. Such places might never be heard of in 
 the world but for the rising of individual lights which 
 illuminate them unawares, — lights which have been 
 frequent in Annandale. Such a tender soul as Grahame, 
 the poet of the Sabbath, shines softly into that obscure 
 perspective ; and it flashes out before contemporary 
 eyes, and warms upon the remembiance of after 
 generations, in reflections from the stormy and pathetic 
 splendour of the subject of this history. 
 
25 
 
 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 educational habit in Scotland, promotes the 
 diffusion of a httle learning, and aU the practical uses 
 of knowledge, but makes the profounder depths of 
 scholarship almost impossible. It was nearly universal 
 in those days, and no doubt partly originated in the 
 very long course of study demanded by the Church 
 (always so influential in Scotland, and acting upon the 
 habits even of those who are not devoted to her service), 
 from apphcants for the ministry. This lengthened 
 process of education cannot be better described than in 
 the words used by Irving himself, at a much later 
 period of his hfe, and used with natural pride, as setting 
 forth what his beloved Church required of her neo- 
 phytes. “ In respect to the ministers,” he says, “ this is 
 required of them, — that they should have studied for 
 four years in a university all the branches of a classical 
 and philosophical education ; and either taken the rank 
 in hterature of a Master of Arts, or come out from the 
 university with certificates of their proficiency in the 
 classics, in mathematics, in logic, and in natural and 
 moral philosophy. They are then, and not till then, 
 
26 PROLONGED PROBATION OF SCOTCH MINISTERS. 
 
 permitted to enter upon the study of 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 Churcli 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 voca- 
 tion ; 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 medi- 
 cal profession, came to Edinburgh under the charge of 
 some relatives of their Annan schoolfellow, Hugh Clap- 
 per ton ; 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 personal shelter to offer : then, as now, the Alma 
 Mater was a mere abstract mass of class-rooms, mu- 
 seums, and libraries, and the youths or boys who sought 
 instruction there were left in absolute freedom to their 
 own devices. Perhaps the youths thus launched upon 
 the world were too young to take much harm ; or 
 
BOY-STUDENTS. 
 
 27 
 
 perhaps that early necessity of self-regulation, imposed 
 under different and harder circumstances than those 
 which have brought the English pubhc schools into 
 such fresh repute and popularity, bore all the fruit 
 which it is now hoped and beheved to produce. But 
 whatever may be the virtues of self-government, it is 
 impossible to contemplate without a singular interest 
 and amaze, the spectacle of these two boys, one thir- 
 teen, the other, probably, about fifteen, placed alone in 
 their little lodging in tlie picturesque but noisy old 
 town of Edinburgh, for six long months at a stretch, 
 to manage themselves and their education, witliout 
 tutors, without home care, without any stimulus but 
 that to be received in the emulation of the class-room, 
 or from their books and • their own ambition. These 
 circumstances, however, were by no means remarkable 
 or out of the common course of things ; and the sur- 
 prise with which Ave look back to so strange a picture 
 of boyish life Avould not have been shared by the con- 
 temporary spectators Avho saw the south-country boys 
 coming and going to college Avithout perceiving any- 
 thing out of the way in it. The manner in which the 
 little establishment Avas kept up is wonderfully primi- 
 tive to hear of at so short a distance from our sophisti- 
 cated times. ISTow and then the lads received a box 
 from home, sent by the carrier, or by some “ private 
 opportunity,” full of oatmeal, cheese, and other homely 
 necessities, and doubtless not AAuthout lighter embel- 
 lishments to prove the mother’s care for her boys. 
 Probably their linen was conveyed back and forAvard 
 to the home-laundry by the same means ; so that the 
 money expense of the tiny estabhshment, with its por- 
 
•28 
 
 INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 ridge thus provided, and its home relishes of ham and 
 cheese, making the schoolboy board festive, must have 
 been of the most hmited amount. Altogether it is a 
 quaint little picture of the patriarchal life, now de- 
 parted 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 communi- 
 cations from the family table to its absent members. 
 Nor is it easy to believe that boys of thirteen, living 
 in lonely independence in Edinburgh, where the very 
 streets are seducing and full of fascinations, and where 
 every gleam of sunshine on the hills, and flash of reflec- 
 tion from the visible Firth must draw youthful thoughts 
 away from the steep 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 weal- 
 thier yoke-fellow than now. No greater contrast to the 
 life of undergraduates in an ancient English university, 
 could be imagined, than that presented by those boy- 
 students in their lofty chamber, detached from all colle- 
 giate associations, living in the midst of a working-day 
 population, utterly unimpressed by the neighbourhood 
 of a university, and interpolating the homely youthful 
 idyll of their existence into the noisy, busthng, scold- 
 ing, not over-savoury hfe 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 Protestantism of the Scotch metropolis. 
 
HARD TRAINING. 
 
 29 
 
 The boys came' and went, undistinguished, in their 
 country caps and jackets, through streets, which, full of 
 character as they are, suggest nothing so little as the 
 presence of a college, and returned to their studies in 
 their little room, with neither tutor nor assistant to 
 help them through their difficulties, and lived a life of 
 unconscious austerity, in which they themselves did not 
 perceive either the poverty or the hardship ; which, 
 indeed, it is probable they themselves, and all belong- 
 ing to them, would have been equally amazed and 
 indignant to have heard either hardship or poverty 
 attributed to. Crowds of other lads, from all parts of 
 Scotland, lived a similar hfe ; the homely fare and spare 
 accommodation, the unassisted studies ; and in most 
 cases, as soon as that was practicable, personal exer- 
 tions 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 professional life and 
 future advancement. 
 
 The Edinburgh “ Session ” lasts only from November 
 till May ; leaving the whole summer free for the re- 
 creation, or, more probably, the labours of the self- 
 supporting students. Indeed, the whole system seems 
 based upon the necessity of allowing time for the 
 intervening work which is to provide means for the 
 studies that follow. When the happy time of release 
 
30 
 
 JOURNEYS ON FOOT. 
 
 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 de- 
 lighted in pedestrian journeys ; and it was most proba- 
 bly 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, accustomed to such kindly relations with the 
 poorest of his neighbours, does not need any other 
 training to that frank uncondescending courtesy which 
 is so dear to the poor. “ Edward walked as the crow 
 flies,” says one of his surviving relatives who has ac- 
 companied those walks when time was. Such an 
 eccentric, joyful, straightforward progress must have 
 been specially refreshing to the schoolboy 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 succeeded 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 Mathe- 
 matical Professor in the Edinburgh University ; both 
 of whom interested themselves in his behalf as soon 
 as he began his own independent career. So far as 
 the hbrary records go, he does not seem to have been an 
 extraordinarily diligent student. There is a story told, 
 which I have not been able to trace to any authentic 
 source, of his having found in a farm-house, in the 
 
EARLY READING. 
 
 31 
 
 neighbourhood of Annan, a copy of Hooker’s Eccle- 
 siastical Polity^ which is said to have powerfully 
 attracted him, and given an impulse to his 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 Fathers, Homer, and Hew- 
 ton,” and to have trudged forward afoot with the 
 additional load upon his stalwart shoulders, in great 
 dehght with his acquisition. There can be no doubt, 
 at least, of his own reference to “ the venerable com- 
 panion of my early days — Eichard Hooker.” In op- 
 position to this serious reading stand the Arabian 
 Nights^ and 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 inappropriate 
 as drawn from the library of his College. “ He used 
 to carry continually in his waistcoat pocket,” says one 
 of his few surviving college companions, the Eev. Dr. 
 Grierson, of Errol, “ a miniature copy of Ossian ; pas- 
 sages from which he read or recited in his walks in the 
 country, or delivered with sonorous elocution and vehe- 
 ment gesticulation ” for the benefit of his companions. 
 This is the first indication I can find of his oratorical 
 gifts, and that natural magniloquence of style which 
 belonged equally to his mind and person. 
 
 Society in Edinburgh was at this period in its culmi- 
 nation. Those were the “ Edinburgh Eeview ” days, 
 when the brilliant groups whose reputation is more 
 entirely identified with Edinburgh than that of gene- 
 rations still more exclusively her own, were in full 
 
32 
 
 DISTINCTIONS IN SOCIETY. 
 
 possession of the field. Looking back, the town seems 
 so occupied and filled by that brotherhood, that it is 
 hard to imagine the strains of life all unconscious of 
 its existence, and scarcely infiuenced, even unconsciously, 
 by its vicinity, which went serenely on within the same 
 hmited boundaries ; and it is still harder to fancy a 
 youth of genius pursuing his youthful way into the 
 secrets of literature in Edinburgh without the slightest 
 link of connection with the brilliant lettered society 
 which gave tone and character to the place. But the 
 Antipodes are not farther off from us than were the 
 fights of Edinburgh society from the rustic student 
 labouring through his classes. As distinct as if they 
 had belonged to different countries, or different centuries, 
 were the young lawyers, not much richer, but standing 
 on the threshold of public fife, with all its possibilities, 
 and the young clerical students, looking, as the highest 
 hope of their ambition, to the pulpit of a parish church, 
 with a stipend attached of two or three hundred a year 
 at the utmost. In actual means the one might not be 
 much in advance of the other ; but in hopes, prospects, 
 and surroundings, how widely different ! Beneath that 
 firmament, flashing with fight and splendour, the com- 
 mon day went on unconscious, concealing its other 
 half-dawned fights. Among all the feUow-students of 
 Edward Irving, there are no names which have attained 
 more than local celebrity, except that of Thomas Car- 
 lyle, 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 fife. He stands 
 alone among men who subsided into parishes, and 
 chaplaincies, and educational chairs ; but who were his 
 
PATRONS AND ASSOCIATES. 
 
 33 
 
 equals, or more than his equals, in those days — without 
 any connection with, or means of approach to, that 
 splendid circle which, one would imagine, concen- 
 trated within so hmited a sphere as that of Edinburgh, 
 must have found out by magnetic attraction every 
 hght of genius within its bounds. But the ecclesias- 
 tical flats in which the youth stood, together with 
 his humble origin, more than counteracted that mag- 
 netism. If the Church everywhere never fails to 
 be reminded that her kingdom is not of this world, 
 that reminder is specially thrust upon her in Scotland, 
 where it is a principle of the creed of both ministers 
 and people to believe 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 patience 
 far too engrossing to admit the claims of society. Irving 
 went on in his early career far down in the shade of 
 common hfe, out of reach of those lights which, to the 
 next generation, illuminate the entire sphere — and grew 
 from a boy to a young man, and took his bo3ush 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 Leshe observed the fervour of 
 the tall lad, and took him for a future prop of science. 
 A younger fellow-student records simply how Irving, 
 being more advanced than he, helped him on with his 
 studies, according to that instinct of his nature which 
 never forsook him. And he read Ossian, and argued 
 in defunct Philomathic societies, where he and other 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 caelyle’s desceiption of ieving. 
 
 people fancied he met equal opponents ; till it became 
 necessary for him, seventeen years old, and a graduate 
 of Edinburgh University, to begin to help himself on- 
 wards, during the tedious intervals of his professional 
 training. 
 
 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 estab- 
 lished in Haddington ; and by the recommendation 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 HaU,” and at 
 the age of eighteen, that he entered upon this situation. 
 To somewhere about the same period must belong the 
 description given of him in Carlyle’s wonderful “ Eloge,'' 
 “ The first time I saw Hving was in his native town of 
 Annan. He was fresh from Edinburgh, with college 
 prizes, high character and promise : he had come to 
 see our schoolmaster, who had also been his. We 
 heard of famed professors, of high matters classical, 
 mathematical, a whole wonderland of knowledge ; 
 nothing but joy, health, hopefulness without end looked 
 out from the blooming young man.” 
 
 Another spectator of more prosaic vision declares 
 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 default of better, that pride which 
 takes the place of modesty. Irving, utterly ingenuous 
 and open, always seeking love, and the approbation of 
 love, and doubting no man, did not possess this quahty. 
 
EARLY LABOURS. 
 
 35 
 
 “ The blooming young man ” went back to the school in 
 which he was once kept in and punished, with candid, 
 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 hfe. 
 
 And it was also the conclusion of his University edu- 
 cation so far as reahty went. For four or five years 
 thereafter he was what is called a partial student of 
 Divinity, matriculating regularly, and making his ap- 
 pearance at coUege to go through the necessary exami- 
 nations, and dehver the prescribed discourses ; but 
 carrying on his intermediate studies by himself, ac- 
 cording to a hcense permitted by the Church. His 
 Haddington appointment removed him definitely fi:om 
 home and its homely provisions, and gave him an early 
 outset for himself into the business and labours of in- 
 dependent hfe. So far from being a hardsliip, or matter 
 to be lamented, it was the best thing his friends could 
 have wished for him. Such interruptions in the course 
 of professional education were all but universal in Scot- 
 land ; and he went under the best auspices and with the 
 highest hopes. 
 
36 
 
 CHAPTEE ni. 
 
 HADDINGTON. 
 
 Irving entered upon this second chapter of his youth- 
 ful hfe in the summer of 1810. He vras 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 estabhshment of that school called the mathe- 
 matical, to which came groups of lads not very much 
 younger than the young teacher, who had been stupefied 
 for years in such schools as did exist ; and some of 
 whom woke up hke magic under the touch of the boy- 
 student, so httle older than themselves. Coming to the 
 httle town under these circumstances, recommended as 
 a distinguished student by a man of such eminence as 
 Sir John Leshe, the young man had a favourable 
 reception in his new 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 
 
THE doctor’s little DAUGHTER. 
 
 37 
 
 went with a more genial introduction, and under cir- 
 cumstances equally interesting and amusing, This was 
 the house of Dr. Welsh, the principal medical man of 
 the district, whose family consisted of one httle daugh- 
 ter, for whose training he entertained more ambitious 
 views than little girls are generally the subjects of. 
 This httle girl, however, was as unique in mind as in 
 circumstances. She heard, with eager childish wonder, 
 a perennial discussion carried on between her father 
 and mother about her education ; both were naturally 
 anxious to secure the special sympathy and companion- 
 ship of their only child. The doctor, recovering from 
 his disappointment that she was a girl, was bent upon 
 educating her hke a boy, to make up as far as possible ^ 
 for the unfortunate drawback of sex ; while her mother, 
 on the contrary, hoped for nothing higher in her daugh- 
 ter than the sweet domestic companion most congenial 
 to herself. The child, who was not supposed to under- 
 stand, hstened eagerly, as children invariably do hsten 
 to all that is intended to be spoken over their heads. 
 Her ambition was roused ; to be educated like a boy 
 became the object of her entire thoughts, and set her 
 httle mind working with independent projects of its 
 own. She resolved to take the first step in this awful 
 but fascinating course, on her own responsibihty. 
 Having already divined that Latin was the first grand 
 point of distinction, she made up her mind to settle the 
 matter by learning Latin. A copy of the Rudiments 
 was quickly found in the lumber-room of the house, 
 and a tutor not much further off in a humble student 
 of the neighbourhood. The little scholar had a dra- 
 matic instinct ; she did not pour forth her first lesson 
 
38 
 
 THE FIEST DECLEHSIOH. 
 
 as soon as it was acquired, or rashly betray her secret. 
 She waited the fitting place and moment. It was even- 
 ing, when dinner had softened out the asperities of the 
 day : the doctor sat in luxurious leisure in his dressing- 
 gown and shppers, sipping his cofiee ; and all the cheer- 
 ful 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 had 
 arrived: penna, pennce^ pennamV 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. 
 
 After this pretty scene, the proud doctor asked 
 Sir John Leshe to send him a tutor for the httle 
 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 
 disciphne ; and again in the evemng after school hours. 
 When the young tutor arrived in the dark of the win- 
 ter mornings, and found his httle 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 then- 
 studies, and taught her logic, to the great tribulation of 
 
CONFLICT BETWEEN PITY AND TKUTH. 
 
 39 
 
 the household, in which the little philosopher pushed 
 her inquiries into the puzzhng metaphysics of life. The 
 greatest affection sprang up, as was natural, between 
 the child and her young teacher, whose heart at all 
 times of his life was always open to children. After 
 the lapse of all these years, their companionship looks 
 both pathetic and amusing. A hfe-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 httle woman, thus con- 
 fided to his bo3dsh care, inspired him. Their inter- 
 course did not have the romantic conclusion it might/ 
 have been supposed likely to end in ; but, as a friend- 
 ship, existed unbroken through all kinds of vicissi- 
 tudes ; and even through entire’ separation, disapproval, 
 and outward estrangement, to the end of Irving’s 
 life. 
 
 Wlien the lessons were over it was a rule that the 
 young teacher should leave a daily report of his pupil’s 
 progress ; when, alas, that report was pessima^ the 
 little girl was punished. One day he paused long 
 before putting his sentence upon paper. The culprit 
 sat on the table, small, downcast, and conscious of 
 failure. The preceptor lingered remorsefully over his 
 verdict, 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, pessima ! The small offender doubtless 
 forgot the penalty that followed ; but she has not yet 
 
40 
 
 NEW FKIENDS. 
 
 forgotten the compassionate dilemma in which truth 
 was the unwilling conqueror. 
 
 The youth who entered his house under such circum- 
 stances soon became a favourite guest at the fireside of 
 the Doctor, who, himself a man of education and intel- 
 ligence, and of that disposition which makes men 
 beloved, was not slow to find out the great qualities of 
 his young visitor. There are some men who seem born 
 to the inalienable good fortune of lighting upon the best 
 people — “ the most worthy” according to Irving’s own 
 expression long afterwards — wherever they go. Ir- 
 vmg’s happiness in this way began at Haddington. The 
 Doctor’s wife seems to have been one of those fair, 
 sweet women whose remembrance lasts longer than 
 greatness. There is no charm of beauty more delight- 
 ful than that fragrance of it which lingers for genera- 
 tions in the place where it has been an unconsciously 
 refining and tender influence. The Annandale youth 
 came into a httle world of humanizing graces when he 
 entered that atmosphere ; and it was only natural that 
 he should retain the warmest recollection of it through- 
 out his hfe. It must have been of countless benefit to 
 him in this early stage of his career. The main quahty 
 in himself which struck observers was — in strong and 
 strange contradiction to the extreme devotion of belief 
 manifested in his latter years — the critical and almost 
 sceptical tendency of his mind, impatient of superficial 
 “received truths,” and eager for proof and demonstra- 
 tion of everything. Perhaps mathematics, which then 
 reigned paramount in his mind, were co blame; he 
 was as anxious to discuss, to prove and disprove, as a 
 Scotch student fresh from college is naturally disposed 
 
SPORT AND STUDY. 
 
 41 
 
 to be. It was a peculiarity natural to his age and con- 
 dition ; and as his language was always inclined to the 
 superlative, and his feehngs invariably took part in every 
 matter which commended itself to his mind, it is pro- 
 bable that this inclination showed with a certain 
 exaggeration to surrounding eyes. ‘‘ This youth wiU 
 scrape a hole in everything he is called on to beheve,” 
 said the doctor; — a strange prophecy, looking at it by 
 that light of events which unfold so many unthought-of 
 meanings in all predictions. 
 
 In the meantime he made himself popular in the 
 town; and apart from the delightful vignette above, 
 appears in all his natural picturesque individuahty in 
 other recollections. The young master of the mathe- 
 matical school commended himself to the hearts of 
 those whose sons he had quickened out of dunces into 
 inteUigent prize-winning pupils. He was young and 
 poor, and in a humble position stiU ; but he attracted the 
 warm admiration of the boys, and that enthusiasm which 
 only young creatures in the early blush of existence can 
 entertain for their elders. The means by which he 
 won the hearts of those lads is simple and apparent 
 enough. Though he was severe and peremptory 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 aU 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 
 
42 
 
 HOLIDAY SCIENCE. 
 
 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 in- 
 variably accompanied by several of his jpupils.” Wlien 
 the state of the atmosphere, or any other obstacle, in- 
 terrupted 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 harmless by, enjoyed his 
 hohday as well as if everything had been favourable for 
 their use. Another picturesque glimpse of the boy- 
 philosopher follows. “About this time Mr. Irving 
 frequently expressed a wish to travel in Africa in the 
 track of Mungo Park, and during his holiday excursions 
 practised, in concert with his pupils, the throwing of 
 stones into pools of water, with the view of determining 
 U the depth of the water by the sound of the plunge, to 
 aid him in crossing rivers a species of scientific 
 inquiry into which, I have no doubt, the Haddington 
 boys would enter with devotion. This idea of travel, 
 not unnatural to the school-feUow of Hugh Clapperton, 
 seems to have returned on many occasions to Irving’s 
 mind, and to have displayed itself in various character- 
 istic studies, as unhke the ordinary course of preparation 
 for a journey as the above bit of holiday science. His 
 great bodily strength and dauntless spirit made the idea 
 congenial to him, and he had no very brilhant prospects 
 at home ; indeed, this thought seems to run, a kind of 
 adventurous possibility, through a great part of his life, 
 changing in aspect as his own projects and feelings 
 
INCIDENT IN ST. GEOKGE’S CHURCH. 
 
 43 
 
 'changed ; and to have afforded his mind a refuge from 
 the fastidious intolerance of youth when that came 
 upon him, or when cross circumstances and adverse 
 persons drove him back at bitter moments upon himself. 
 
 “ 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, Edin- 
 burgh, 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, 
 accomphshing a distance of about thirty-five miles with- 
 out any other rest than what was obtained in church.” 
 The fatigue of this long walk was 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 aU the seats were open to the public, but with- 
 out effect. At last his patience gave way ; and raising 
 his hand he exclaimed, evidently with aU his natural 
 magniloquence of voice and gesture, “ Eemove your 
 arm, or I will shatter it in pieces ! ” His astonished 
 opponent fell back in utter dismay, like Mrs. Siddons’ 
 shopman, and made a precipitate retreat, while the 
 rejoicing boys took possession of the pew. Thus, for 
 
44 
 
 SOCIETY IN HADDINGTON. 
 
 the first time, 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 hmbs in the seat from 
 which he had driven his enemy. Such glimpses are 
 curious and fuU 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 
 estabhshed his place as a warm and hfe-long friend in 
 the house of the Doctor, but made his way into the 
 homes and society of many of the worthy inhabitants 
 of the httle town. Among those who had children at 
 the 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 preceptor 
 known and received at most of the good houses in 
 Haddington. 
 
 “ Social supper parties,” says Mr. Alexander Inghs, 
 once a resident in Haddington, who has kindly fur- 
 nished me with some recollections of this period, 
 “ were much the custom at this time in Haddington, 
 and the hospitalities generally extended far into the 
 night. At these social meetings Irving was occasionally 
 in the habit of broaching some of his singular opinions 
 about the high destinies of the human race in heaven. 
 
BOLTON MANSE. 
 
 45 
 
 where the saints were not only to be made ‘ kings and 
 priests unto God,’ but were to rule and judge angels. 
 Dr. Lorimer (the senior minister of the town) used to 
 hint that there were many more profitable and useful 
 subjects in the New Testament for a divinity student 
 to occupy his thoughts about than such speculations ; 
 but Irving was not to be put down in this way. 
 
 ‘ Dare either you or I deprive God of the glory and 
 thanks due to his name for this exceeding great re- 
 ward?’ cried the impetuous young man, according to 
 the report of his old friend : the good Doctor’s ready 
 reply was, ‘ Well, well, my dear friend, both 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 capacity had cured the daughter of a 
 Scotch nobleman of supposed consumption. The phy- 
 sician and patient, after the most approved principles 
 of poetical justice, feU 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 quahties of 
 mind and heart, which, despite his vehement speech and 
 impatience, and love of argumentation, showed them- 
 selves in the young schoolmaster. In this Manse of 
 Bolton Irving was in the habit of spending his Satur- 
 days, along with a young fellow-student of his own, 
 Mr. Story, afterwards of Kosneath. Nor was he without 
 
46 
 
 YOUNG COMPANIONS. 
 
 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 inevitable shiUings and sixpences, 
 and fixed hours of coming and going, does away with 
 distance, yet magnifies the walk into a journey. On 
 Satm^days and hohdays there was no lack of visitors. 
 A tide of eager young hfe palpitated about the teacher- 
 student, even in that retirement, — hfe of a wonderfully 
 different fashion from that which issues from Enghsh 
 universities ; confined to hmits much more narrow, and 
 bound to practical necessities ; a world more hard and 
 real. Among these comrades there were perhaps 
 scarcely two or three individuals whose studies were 
 not professional ; and among the professional students 
 only a smaU number who were not, hke Irving himself, 
 taxing their youthful strength to procure the means of 
 prosecuting their studies. With theological students in 
 particular this was almost the rule ; for few were the 
 fortunate men who were rich enough to spend their 
 eight long years entirely in study. Doubtless this fact 
 gave a certain individual character to the httle groups 
 who came to share the liberal boyish hospitahty of the 
 young schoolmaster, and filled with much clangor of 
 logic and eager Scottish argumentation his httle rooms. 
 Some youthful wits among them took pleasure in 
 aggravating the vehement temper of their young host, 
 and stirring him into characteristic outbreaks, — the 
 language which afterwards became so splendid being 
 then, it is evident, somewhat magniloquent, and his 
 
EXTENT OF HIS WORK. 
 
 47 
 
 natural impetuosity warm with all the passion of 
 youth. But the names of them have passed away, or 
 hve in merely local recollection; some became teachers 
 of some distinction in Edinburgh ; others, and not a 
 few, went abroad and died off in colonial chaplaincies ; 
 some, the most fortunate, settled down into respectable 
 parish ministers. But who knows anything about those 
 Browns and Dicksons now ? 
 
 Irving was also a member of a local literary society, 
 which he helped to originate among young men native 
 to the burgh. The fashion of their meetings seems to 
 have been an excellent one. They were in the habit 
 of setting out together to some place of interest near 
 them, often to dainty Dirleton, that pretty artificial 
 village which is one of the boasts of East Lothian, and 
 after the walk and talk of the road holding their seance 
 there — a method which no doubt made their essays 
 and discussions more reasonable, so far as reason was 
 to be expected. It was thus not without activity of 
 mind, cultivated, so far as that was practicable, and 
 kept in constant stimulation by contact with his com- 
 peers, that this period of his life was passed. He seems 
 to have taught most things common to elementary 
 education in his mathematical school ; with Latin of 
 course, the unfailing representative of higher know- 
 ledge, and key to advancement, as it has been long 
 considered in Scotland ; and to his more advanced and 
 more congenial pupils, the same who carried his instru- 
 ments after him afield, and threw stones with him in 
 zealous devotion, unfolded the mysteries of mathe- 
 matics. His fife must have been sufficiently laborious 
 to need all the relaxations possible to it. Start- 
 
48 
 
 COURAGE AND CHEERFULNESS. 
 
 ing at six in the morning — not always in winter morn- 
 ings, certainly, though the idea instinctively recalls 
 the icy chill of those starry hours before dawn, to the 
 unheroic hearer — to conjugate Latin verbs with the 
 little maid, who perhaps did not apprehend all that her 
 ambition was to bring upon her ; then returning to his 
 fifty boys, to school them in all the different funda- 
 mentals of plain unembelhshed knowledge (and the 
 teacher himself was not always immaculate in his 
 spelling) ; with again another private lesson after the 
 fifty had gone to their sports, — those sports in which 
 the eighteen-year old lad was scarcely above joining, — 
 close exercise for the youthful brain and athletic develop- 
 ing form, to which some counterbalance of strenuous 
 physical exertion was necessary. 
 
 His independence seems now to have been com- 
 plete. In his humble 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. Henceforward 
 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 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 
 
LEAVES HADDINGTON. 
 
 49 
 
 simplicity, neither resenting it, nor quarrelling with 
 those whom circumstances made temporarily his 
 superiors. Either people did not ill-use him, or he had 
 some secret power of endurance which turns ill-usage 
 aside. At all events, it is certain that the agonies of 
 the sensitive, not sufficiently respected tutor, or the 
 commotions of the indignant one, have no place what- 
 ever in Irving’s youthful hfe. When the Haddington 
 corporation, not likely to be the most considerate 
 masters in the world, afflicted their young schoolmaster, 
 it is to be supposed that he blazed up at them manfully, 
 and got done with it. At least he has no complaints 
 to make, or old slights to remember ; nor does it seem 
 that he ever sulked at his humble position or close 
 labours at any time in his life. 
 
 Irving remained two years at Haddington, during 
 which time he began that singular grave pretence of 
 theological education wffiich is called “ partial study 
 in the Divinity HaU. From the httle Haddington 
 school he w^as promoted, always with the good offices 
 of Sir John Leshe, who seems to have had a sincere 
 kindness for him, to the mastership of a newly estab- 
 hshed academy in Kirkcaldy ; in which place he spent 
 a number of years, and decided various important 
 matters deeply concerning his future hfe. 
 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 KIRKCALDY. 
 
 “ The lang town of Eirkcaldy” extends along tlie north- 
 ern side of the Firth of Forth, and is one of the most 
 important of that long hue of httle 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 Queensferry, till the coast rounds off into St. 
 Andrew’s Bay ; and are full of a busy yet leisurely indus- 
 try, sometimes quickened almost into the restless pulse of 
 trade, Kirkcaldy earned its title of the “ lang town ” 
 from the prolonged line of its single street, running 
 parallel to the shore for rather more than a mile, and 
 at that time had not -widened into proportionate breadth, 
 nor invested itself with tiny suburbs, and the body of 
 scattered population which now gives it importance. 
 In the year 1812 there was no school in this fiourishing 
 and comfortable place, except the parish school, with 
 its confusion of ranks and profound Eepubhcanism of 
 letters, where boys and guds of all classes were rudely 
 drilled into the common elements of education, with 
 
KIEKCALDY ACADEMY. 
 
 51 
 
 sucli climaxes of Latin and mathematics as were prac- 
 ticable. The professional people of Kirkcaldy, headed 
 by the minister, who had himself a large family of 
 children to educate, and the well-to-do shopkeepers and 
 householders of the place, determined, accordingly, 
 upon the establishment of a new school, of higher pre- 
 tensions, and Edward Irving was selected as its first 
 master. Two rooms in a central “ wynd,” opening into 
 each other, with a tiny class-room attached — now 
 occupied by a humble schoolmaster, who points to his 
 worm-eaten oaken desks as being those used by “ the 
 great Mr. Irving” — were simply fitted up into the new 
 academy. 
 
 Without any accessories to command respect, in a 
 humble locahty, with a cobbler’s hutch in the sunk 
 story beneath, and common houses crowding round, 
 the new institution, notwithstanding, impressed respect 
 upon the town, and soon became important. Boys and 
 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 afterwards Avas 
 to be the popular designation of a religious com- 
 munity came into playful use, long and innocently 
 antedating its more permanent meaning, and the 
 academy scholars distinguished each other as “ Irving- 
 
52 
 
 PEESONAL APPEAEANCE. 
 
 ites,” — 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 appearance was noble and remarkable to a 
 high degree, his features fine, his figure, in its great 
 height, fully developed and vigorous ; the only draw- 
 back to his good looks being the defect in his eye, 
 which, with so many and great advantages to counter- 
 balance it, seems rather to have given piquancy to his 
 face than to have lessened its attraction. Such a figure 
 attracted universal attention : he could not pass through 
 a village without being remarked and gazed after ; and 
 some of his Kirkcaldy pupils remember the moment 
 when they first saw 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 possession of 
 all the importance of a “ Dominie,” he had no such 
 solemn regard to dress as afterwards became one of his 
 peculiarities, but made his appearance in Kirkcaldy in 
 a morning coat made of some set of tartan in* 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 
 disciphne,' and it is evident that he used its help with 
 much freedom. Sounds were heard now and then 
 proceeding from the schoolroom which roused the pity 
 and indignation of the audience of neighbours out of 
 doors. One of these, a joiner, deacon of his trade, and 
 
SEVERE DISCIPLINE. 
 
 53 
 
 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 mis- 
 take testifies to the general notion that careless scholars 
 occasionally got somewhat hard measure from the 
 young master. Some good men loitering about their 
 gardens, in the neighbourhood of the “ academy,” heard 
 outcries which alarmed them ; and, convinced that 
 murder was being accomplished in the school, set off to 
 save the victim ; but discovered, to their great discom- 
 fiture, that the cries which had attracted their sympathy 
 came from an unfortunate animal under the hands of a 
 butcher, and not from a tortured schoolboy. These 
 severe measures, however, by no means 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 schoolboys without identify- 
 ing himself with them, and carrying them with him 
 into all the occupations 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 pro- 
 moted to share his hours of leisure. The same lads 
 went with him to the Firth, where he renewed those 
 
 * Anglice — assistance^ a helper. 
 
54 “ DOING ALL THINGS HEARTILY/' 
 
 feats of swimming which liad distinguished him on the 
 Solway ; 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 vigor- 
 ous 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 discon- 
 tented wdth his occupation, as was very possible, it never 
 occurred to Irving to evidence that feehng 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 aU the fresh, natural ful- 
 ness 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 reserve 
 and pathetical injured aspect towards the w^orld, 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 wdiat 
 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 him- 
 self freely, with exuberant volunteer efforts not de- 
 manded of him. Under no circumstances was indif- 
 ference possible to this young man ; though, even then, 
 it is very apparent, prophetic visions of a very different 
 audience, and of future possibihties which no one else 
 dreamt of, were with liiin in the midst of his hearty 
 and cordial labours. 
 
KIRKCALDY SANDS. 
 
 56 
 
 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 Solway ; with green islands gleaming in the 
 light, and Arthur’s Seat looming out through the Edin- 
 burgh smoke in the distance, mo ody hqn ; and many 
 a moonhght night upon the same shore, collecting 
 round him his httle 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 up the notion that 
 Irving (b*ew down the stars, or at least knew when they 
 were to fall. They accordingly watched for him and 
 his pupils, and pushing in amongst them with ignorant, 
 half-superstitious curiosity, broke up the httle conclave. 
 A curious incident in which a fanciful observer might 
 see some dim, mystic anticipations of a future not 
 yet revealed even to its hero. Indoors, in his own do- 
 main, as the different classes went on with their lessons, 
 he moved about in perpetual activity, seldom sitting 
 down, and always fuUy intent upon the progress of his 
 flock. Now and then he gave them a hohday, on con- 
 dition of receiving afterwards an essay describing how 
 they had spent their time — receiving in return some 
 amusing productions largely taken up with bird’s nesting 
 and other such exploits of rustic boyhood. Both French 
 
56 
 
 MILTON CLASS. 
 
 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, learning 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 understand- 
 ing of the passage and appreciation of its meaning.” 
 Altogether a system of education of a lofty optimist cha- 
 racter, quite as rare and unusual in the present day as 
 at that time. It is said that one of his older pupils came 
 on one occasion to this same 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 terrified girl, unable 
 to conceal her fright, fled precipitately. Some of his 
 pupils — and among these, one or two girls — came to 
 high proficiency in the mathematical studies, 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 schoolboys, 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 in- 
 voluntarily among the youths commanded by such a 
 leader. They learned to suspend their very snowball 
 bickers till the girls had passed out of harm’s way ; and 
 awing the less fortunate gamins of the little town by 
 
SCHOOLBOY CHIVALRY. 
 
 57 
 
 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 gene- 
 rous zeal of the “ Irvingites.” The girls perhaps on 
 their side were not equally considerate, but Avon prizes 
 over the heads of their stronger associates A\dth 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 Avhen times were propitious. It Avas neces- 
 sary to secure ■ beforehand, hoAvever, that times were 
 propitious. On one such sunshiny occasion some of 
 the boys propounded the old stock riddle about the 
 seA^en wives with their stock of cats and kits “ Avhom 
 I met going to St. Ives ” — and the AAdiole school 
 looked on, convulsed with secret titterings, Avhile 
 their simple-minded master Avent on jotting doAvn upon 
 his black board in visible figures the repeated sevens 
 of that tricky composition. Their floggmgs do not 
 seem to have much damped the spirit of the Kirkcaldy 
 boys, or diminished their confidence in their teacher. 
 
 During the early part of Irving’s residence in Kirk- 
 caldy he was still a partial student at the Divinity Hall. 
 During the first three Avinters he had to go over to 
 Edinburgh noAv and then, to deliver the discourses Avhich 
 Avere 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 Kirkcaldy history 
 
58 “ MUCH-RESPECTED PUPILS.” 
 
 are taken, “ to ensure his pupils losing as little as pos- 
 sible, he used to ask them to meet him at the school at 
 six, or half-past six, in the morning. This arrangement 
 enabled 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 reheve the tiresomeness 
 of the voyage.” The book was Easselas ; and was after- 
 wards sent, with an amusingly elaborate, schoolmaster 
 note, to two young ladies, whom the young teacher 
 (who afterwards made one of them his wife) addresses 
 as “ My much respected pupils.” The friend who lent 
 the book 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 depre- 
 cated any mention of himself on account of the trifling 
 value of his gift. Whereupon Irving adds, with quaint 
 antique solemnity, that “ it was not the worth but the 
 honour which should be regarded : that the conquerors 
 of Greece and Eome reckoned themselves more hon- 
 oured by the laurel crown than if they had enjoyed the 
 splendid pomp of the noblest triumph ;” and concludes 
 by sending the book to both, so that “ by making the 
 present mutual, it will not only be a testimonial of your 
 progress, but also of that attachment which I hope will 
 
LOVE-MAKING. 
 
 59 
 
 ripen into cordial friendship ; and which it is the more 
 pleasant to observe as its place is too often occupied by 
 jealousy and envy.” 
 
 He was not always, however, so exemplary in his 
 letter-writing. Only next spring, a year after, one of 
 the ladies to whom, in conjunction with her companion, 
 the above faultless sentiments were inscribed, seems to 
 have ceased to be Irving’s “much-respected pupil.” 
 The hyperbohcal fiend which talks of nothing but ladies, 
 seems in full possession of the young man in the next 
 ghmpse we obtain of him ; which is contained in a letter 
 to his friend Mr. Story, who had apparently met with 
 some temporary obstruction in his career, and whom 
 Irving felt himself called upon to console. He fulfils this 
 friendly office in the following fashion, beginning with 
 sundry philosophical but far from original arguments 
 against despondency : — 
 
 “ But all these having doubtless occurred to yourself, I pro- 
 ceed to operate upon your feelings, by the much-approved 
 method of awakening your sympathy to the much keener 
 sufferings of your humble servant and correspondent. You 
 must, then, understand that in this town or neighbourhood 
 dwells a fair damsel, whose claims to esteem I am prepared, 
 at the point of my pen, to vindicate against all deadly. Were 
 I to enter into an enumeration of those charms which chal- 
 lenge the world, I might find the low, equal, and unrhyming 
 lines of prose too feeble a vehicle to support my flights. . . . 
 I got to know that this peerless one was prevented from 
 making a promised visit into the country by a stormy Satur- 
 day. I took the earliest opportunity on the next lawful ^ 
 day of waiting on her, and hinting, when mamma’s ear was 
 
 * A common Scotch expression for week days, excluding the 
 Sunday ; public conveyances used to be advertised as plying “ on 
 all lawful days.” 
 
60 
 
 CONFIDENTIAL DISCLOSURES. 
 
 engaged, that I had business at the same village some of these 
 evenings, and would be most ineffably blessed to be her 
 protector home, if not also abroad : would she consent ? I 
 might ask her mother. In this most disagreeable of all 
 tasks I succeeded better than I expected. But, alas I after 
 I thought everything was in a fair way for yielding me an 
 half-hour’s enjoyment, I was not till then informed that 
 another was to be of the party. This was a terrible obstacle, 
 and how to get the better of it I could not divine. ... I 
 could do nothing the whole afternoon but think how happy 
 I might be in the evening. Left home about seven o’clock, 
 so as to call on a friend and be ready at eight, the appointed 
 hour. ’Twas a most lovely, still evening ; just such as you 
 could have chosen from the • whole year for the sighs, pro-^ 
 testations, invocations, &c. of lovers. I called on my friend 
 and tried to get him along with me, in order that I might 
 throw on his charge the intruder, if she should happen to be 
 there. It would not do, and I was forced to go alone, 
 resolving to make the best of a bad business should I be so 
 unfortunate. What, think you, was my disappointment — 
 what imagination can figure — what language describe my tor- 
 ment when I found, she was gone some time ago ? What 
 could I do ? The sea was at hand, but then the tide was not 
 full ; there were rocks at hand, but they were scarcely ele- 
 vated enough for a lover’s leap. I took my solitary, gloomy 
 way down by the dark shore. I lingered long beneath the 
 gloom of a ruined castle that overhangs the billow. I listened 
 to the dash of the waves, and cast my melancholy eye to the 
 solitary beacon gleaming from afar. I fancied, fantastically 
 enough, that it was an image of myself separated and driven 
 to a distance from what in the world I valued. At last, how- 
 ever, my tardy feet, after scrambling on many a ledgy rock, 
 and splashing in many a pool, brought me to the haunts of 
 men. . . . where there were few stirring to disturb the 
 repose of my silent thoughts ; I stole home and endeavoured 
 to find oblivion of my cares in the arms of sleep. . . . Since 
 that time the unfortunate subject of the above tragic inci- 
 dent has consigned every serious study to neglect.” 
 
 This whimsical effusion concludes with a significant 
 
ENGAGEMENT. 
 
 61 
 
 note : “ Have you got introduced to Miss P. or Miss D. 
 yet ? If you be, present my kind compliments. But 
 at your ])eril mention a word of the lady to whom I 
 have referred as honouring this part of the world with 
 her presence ! ” 
 
 Out of the serio-comic levity of this beginning, how- 
 ever, sprang important conclusions. Though it was 
 only after a distance of long years and much separa- 
 tion, the usual vicissitudes of youthful hfe, and aU the 
 lingering delays of a classical probation, that the 
 engagement was completed, Irving found his mate in 
 Pifeshire. Hot 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-grandchildren — Avho 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 figirres : 
 and of David Martin, his brother, first proprietor of 
 the said lay figures, whose admirable portraits are well 
 known. Her father, the Eev. John Martin, was an 
 admirable type of the class to which he belonged — an 
 irreproachable parish priest, of respectable learning 
 and talents and deep piety, living a domestic patriarchal 
 life in the midst of the httle community under his 
 charge, fully subject to their observation and criticism. 
 
62 
 
 THE MINISTER OF KIRKCALDY. 
 
 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 Scot- 
 land. 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 influences. 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 
 chmax 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 and scorn him when he was 
 not, with a contempt increased by their national appre- 
 ciation 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 formino; the natural 
 centre of all stray professors of literature in a region 
 which had too many sloops and looms on hand to be 
 greatly attracted that way. The family 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 developed under his instruction, were, 
 during all his after life, Irving’s fast friends, accom- 
 panying him, not with concurrence or agreement 
 
THE MANSE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 63 
 
 certainly, but with faithful affection and kindness to 
 the very edge of the grave. Irving himself, in one of 
 his somewhat formal early letters, gives us a pleasant, if 
 shghtly elaborate ghmpse of this domestic circle. He 
 is writing to one of its absent daughters, and apolo- 
 gizing “ for not having expressed sooner the higher 
 regard which I have for you.” 
 
 But,” he proceeds, ‘‘ I sometimes find for myself an 
 excuse in thinking that almost the whole of that leisure of 
 which you were so well entitled to a share, has been en- 
 grossed in that family circle of which you were wont to form 
 a part, and with which your warmest sympathies will for a 
 long time, perhaps for ever, dwell. They are well, and 
 living in that harmony and happiness which Providence, as 
 it must approve, will not, I pray, soon disturb. Your 
 brothers and sisters, as formerly, have gone on securing the 
 esteem of their teachers, delighting the hearts of your 
 worthy parents with placid joy, and laying up for themselves 
 a fund of useful knowledge, of warm and virtuous feelings, 
 and of pleasing recollections, which will go far to smooth 
 for them the rugged features of life. God grant that they 
 and you may continue to merit all the good that I for one do 
 wish you, and that you may receive all that you merit. By 
 me it shall ever be esteemed amongst the most fortunate 
 events of my life to have been brought to the acquaintance 
 of your father and his family ; and I trust that the intimacy 
 which they have honoured me with, shall one day ripen into 
 a closer connection.” 
 
 Then follow some counsels to tlie young lady on her 
 studies (particularly recommending the acquirement of 
 “ a correct English accent and pronunciation ”), which 
 must have been of rather an ambitious kind. 
 
 “ Last night we had a talk at the Manse over a clause in 
 your last letter about your Greek pursuits ; and v^^e have 
 arranged to send you by the first opportunity a copy of 
 
64 
 
 SISTER ELIZABETH. 
 
 Moor’s Grammar and Dunbar’s Exercises, which, with the 
 G-reek Testament, will withstand your most diligent efforts 
 for at least one year. You are not far from Cambridge ; you 
 ought to possess yourself of a complete set of the Cambridge 
 course (Wood and Vine’s), and study them regularly; at the 
 same time, be cautious of losing, in the superior convenience 
 and readiness of the analytical or algebraical method, the 
 simple and elegant spirit of the ancient G-eometry, to which 
 Leslie’s elements, especially the Analysis, is so good an intro- 
 duction. I would like to have a correspondence with you on 
 
 scientific subjects The news of the burgh I 
 
 entrust to those who know them better. The people wear 
 the same faces as when you left ; and their manners seem 
 nearly as stationary. I leave the remainder of my paper to 
 Isabel. I cannot claim, but do hope for a letter soon. When 
 it comes, it shall be to me like a holiday.” 
 
 The lady addressed in this strain of old-fashioned 
 regard and kindness was one with whom, in after hfe, 
 he had much intercourse, and who was not only a 
 sister, but a friend capable of appreciating his character. 
 Years after, he expresses, with a certain naive frankness 
 quite his own, his hopes that a dear friend about to 
 return to Scotland, and whom he had earnestly advised 
 to marry, should be “ directed by the Lord to one of 
 those sisters who are in my mind always represented 
 as one.” Irving’s prayer was granted. The warm- 
 hearted and admirable William Hamilton*, the friend 
 
 * William Hamilton, a merchant in Cheapside, and, like Irving, 
 a native of Dumfriesshire, was one of the early office-bearers in the 
 Caledonian Chapel, Hatton Garden ; a man who, in the inglorious 
 but profitable toils of business, concealed fi’om the world an amount 
 of practical sagacity, unpurchasable, unacquirable endowment, 
 which might have honoured a higher place, and whose warm heart 
 and benign manners are remembered by many in his own sphere, 
 where no man possessed a more entire popularity. He had a share 
 in 'originating the “call” from the scanty Scotch congregation, all un- 
 aware of what that caU of theirs was to bring about, who brought 
 
HER HUSBAND. 
 
 65 
 
 of liis clioice and faithful counsellor to the end, became 
 his brother-in-law ; and to the sister thus brought into 
 his immediate neighbourhood some of his most touch- 
 ing confidences were afterwards addressed. 
 
 He had now completed his necessary tale of collegiate 
 sessions, having been, in the partial and irregular way 
 necessitated by his other occupations, in attendance at 
 the Divinity Hall for six long winters. He was now 
 subjected to the “trials for hcense,” which Presbyterian 
 precautions require. “ They are now taken to severest 
 trials by the Presbytery of the Church in those bounds 
 where they reside,” he himself describes with loving 
 boastfulness, proud of the severities of the Church from 
 which he never could separate his heart, — “ and cir- 
 cular letters are sent to all the presbyters in that 
 district, in order that objections may be taken against 
 him who would have the honour, and take upon him- 
 self the trust, of preaching Christ. If no objections are 
 offered, they proceed to make trial of his attainments 
 in all things necessary for the ministry; his knowledge, 
 his piety, his learning, and his character. They pre- 
 scribe to him five several discourses ; one an ‘ Ecce 
 Jesum,’ in Latin, to discover his knowledge in that 
 language ; another an exercise in Greek criticism, to 
 discover his knowledge in sacred literature ; another a 
 homily ; another a discourse to the clergy, to know his 
 gifts in expounding the Scriptures ; another a sermon 
 to know his gifts in preaching to the people. These 
 
 Irving to London ; was his close and affectionate coadjutor for many 
 years; and not being able at last to follow so far as his beloved friend 
 would have led him, stood silently and sorrowfully by to witness 
 that disruption and separation which he could not avert. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 ieving’s rmsT seemok 
 
 trials last half a year ; and being found sufficient, he 
 is permitted to preach the Gospel 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, affectionately vaunts the carefulness of his 
 ecclesiastical mother. He went through his “ trials ” in 
 the early part of the year 1815, and was fuUy licensed 
 to preach the Gospel by the Presbytery of Kirkcaldy 
 in the J une of that year ; and “ exercised his gift,” 
 according to the old Scotch expression, thereafter in 
 Kirkcaldy, and other places, with no great amount of 
 popular appreciation. A humorous description of his 
 first sermon, preached in Annan, is given by an early 
 friend. The “ haill toun,” profoundly critical and much 
 interested, turned out to hear him ; even his ancient 
 teachers, with solemn brows, came out to sit in judgment 
 on Edward’s sermon. A certain excitement of interest, 
 unusual to that humdrum atmosphere, thriUed through 
 the building. When the sermon was in full current, 
 some incautious movement of the young preacher tilted 
 aside the great Bible, and the sermon itself, that direful 
 “ paper ” which Scotch congregations hold in high de- 
 spite, dropped out bodily, and fluttered down upon the 
 precentor’s desk underneath. A- perfect rustle of ex- 
 citement ran through the 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 
 
67 
 
 SUPERIORITY TO ‘‘THE PAPER.” 
 
 a coiif^re^ation in Scotland wliicli that act would not 
 have taken by storm. His success was triumphant. 
 To criticise a man so visibly independent of “ the 
 paper ” would have been presumption indeed. 
 
 In Kirkcaldy, however, his appearances neither ex- 
 cited such interest, nor were attended by any such 
 fortunate accidents. The people 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 discourses so 
 strangely different from the discourses of other orthodox 
 young probationers, and doubtless the style was still 
 unformed, and had not yet attained that rhythm and 
 music which would not have passed unnoticed even in 
 Kirkcaldy; yet the common complaint alleged against 
 it was perfectly characteristic. “ He had ower muckle 
 gran’ner,” the good people said, with disturbed looks. 
 Too much grandeur ! most true, but most singular of 
 criticisms ! A certain baker, Beveridge by name (let us 
 hand it down to such immortality as can be conferred 
 by this record), rudely, with Scotch irreverence 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, with hearers coming far and near at the name 
 of the great preacher, thinned out of its ordinary at- 
 tendance in those early days when he was to supply 
 Dr. Martin’s place. He got no credit and little en- 
 couragement in what was, after all, his real vocation. 
 The fervent beginnings of his eloquence were thrown 
 back cold upon his heart ; no eye in his audience 
 
G8 “OWER MUCKLE GRA^^’NER.” 
 
 making response to that imperfect splendid voice of 
 half-developed genius, which was so wonderfully dis- 
 tinct 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 disconcerted 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 keynote had been found. 
 
 He lingered three years after his license as a 
 preacher, in his schoolmaster’s desk ; silent, listening 
 to other preachers, not always with much edifica- 
 tion; noting how the people to whom his own “un- 
 acceptableness ” was apparent, relished the platitudes 
 of meaner men : laying in 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 moment- 
 ous and often-discussed subject taking gradual form in 
 his mind, he asked himself the reasons of his own 
 apparent failure. He asked himself a still deeper ques- 
 tion, whether this was the preaching of Paul and his 
 bi other apostles? This process of thought is apparent 
 thx"oughout all his works, and above all in the Ora- 
 tions with which he first burst upon the world. Those 
 three years of slow successive Sundays, now and then 
 interrupted by an occasional appearance in the pulpit 
 hailed by no gracious looks, gave the silent listener' 
 whose vocation it was to preach, deep insight into, and 
 
OTHER people’s SERMONS. 
 
 69 
 
 deeper impatience of, the common conventionalities of 
 the pulpit. He found out how httle the sermons he heard 
 touched his case : to his own mind he represented him- 
 self, all glowing with genius and eagerness, as a repre- 
 sentative of the educated hearer, and chafed, as many 
 a man has chafed since, over the dead platitudes which 
 were only a weariness. It is probable that this com- 
 pulsory pause, irksome as it may have been, was of 
 the profoundest importance both to Irving and to his / 
 future eloquence. It dehvered him entirely from the 
 snare of self-admiration, so far as his pulpit efforts were 
 concerned, and concentrated his powers on the perfec- 
 tion of his style and utterance ; while it gave at once to 
 his Christian zeal and human ambition the sharpest of 
 all spurs — the keen stimulus of seeing other men do 
 that work badly or slothfully, which he felt it Avas in 
 him to do well. The pccuhar position of a Scotch pro- 
 bationer, on the very threshold of the Church, but not 
 within it ; a preacher, but still only a layman, Avith the 
 title of reverend sometimes accorded to him by cour- 
 tesy, but entirely witliout ecclesiastical position, gave 
 him all the greater facihty for forming a judgment upon 
 the inadequacies of the ordinary pulpit. Such specula- 
 tions Avere not common in those days. People A\dio 
 acknowledged the influence of the Church, considered 
 themselves bound, for reasons both religious and poli- 
 tical, to maintain it in all points, and suffer no assault ; 
 while those who did not, held it in entire contempt, as 
 an unimprovable institution. The Kirkcaldy proba- 
 tioner belonged to neither of these classes. He saAv 
 Avith an ideal eye, Avhich went as yet far beyond his 
 poAvers of execution, Avhat that pulpit could do and 
 
70 
 
 HIS THOUGHTS ABOUT PEEACHING. 
 
 ouglit to do. He was by far too bold and candid, and 
 too tliorouglily assured of the truth he held, to be afraid 
 of attracting notice to its imperfections ; on the con- 
 trary, it chafed his very soul to permit it to be sup- 
 posed that rehgion and religious teaching were for the 
 vulgar only, and that what satisfied baker Beveridge 
 was to be considered sufficient for the world ; and while 
 he was silent his heart burned. With a temperament 
 such as his, loving love and approbation, as it was natural 
 for him to do, and believing in tlie sincerity of all 
 men, no otlier discipline could have been half so 
 effective. He learned, if not to distrust himself, at least 
 to admit, with a certain sorrowful but candid astonish- 
 ment, that the world in general did not take a lofty view 
 of his qualifications ; and he paused over it, weighing 
 that and its causes in his heart with manful humility and 
 surprise — meaning to be at the bottom of this ere all 
 was done ; feeling in his heart that it was only for a time. 
 
 During this period of liis life, his personal religious 
 sentiments 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 distinguished 
 by a certain cheerful, cordial pugnacity, and readiness, 
 when occasion called for it, to adopt a boldly offensive 
 line of tactics in support of his own dignity and inde- 
 pendence, or tliose of his class ; partly stimulated 
 thereto, doubtless, by the great personal strength which 
 could no more consent to remain inactive than any 
 other of his gifts. In one of his many walking exciH- 
 
ADVENTUKE IN A HIGHLAND INN. 
 
 71 
 
 sions, for example, he and his companion came to a httle 
 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 belong- 
 ings huddled into a corner. Eemonstrances were un- 
 availing; the intruders not only insisted that they had 
 a right to retain possession of the room, but resisted 
 the entrance of the hungry and tired pedestrians, and 
 would neither share the table nor the apartment. When 
 fair means were no longer practicable, Irving pushed 
 forward to the window, and threw it wide open ; then, 
 turning towards the company, all ready for action, 
 gravely addressed his comrade: — ‘‘Will you toss out or 
 knock down ? ” — a business-like inquiry, which, accord- 
 ing to the story, changed with great rapidity the aspect of 
 affairs. Other anecdotes not unsimilar might be quoted. 
 “ In the year 1816,” says Dr. Grierson, “ the 42nd Eegi- 
 ment, having returned after Waterloo, was employed 
 to line the streets of Edinburgh on the day when, at 
 the opening of the General Assembly, the Eoyal Com- 
 missioner proceeded in state from the reception hall 
 in Hunter Square, to St. Giles’s. Standing in front of 
 the Grenadier Company, Irving said to me, pointing to 
 the tallest man among them, ‘ Do you see that feUow ? 
 I should hke to meet him in a dark entry.’ ‘ For what 
 reason ?’ I inquired. ‘Just,’ said he, ‘ that I might find 
 out what amount of drubbing I could bear ! ’ ” 
 
 The meeting of Assembly here referred to was enh- 
 
72 
 
 WAKLIKE ASPIKATION. 
 
 vened 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 Memo- 
 rials^ 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 description of the brilhant lawyer; 
 but it is almost the only popular picture of the most 
 national of all Scotch institutions which can be referred 
 to. Matters are altered now-a-days ; the unity is 
 broken ; and, however interesting the annual meetings 
 of the Scotch Churches may be, there are now two of 
 them, both of which are incomplete, and neither of which 
 has a full title to be called national. 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 highest class 
 shared in its dehberations, and the most distinguished 
 lawyers of the Scotch bar pleaded in its judicial courts. 
 A great discussion in the Assembly was as interesting to 
 Edinburgh as a great debate in Parliament would be in 
 London to-day ; and the interest, and even excitement, 
 which attended this yearly Convocation, had taken a 
 stimulus from the growing stir of external hfe, and from 
 the still more important growth of existence within. The 
 time was critical for every existing institution. The 
 Church, long dormant, vras, like other organisations, 
 beginning to thrill with a new force, against which all 
 
GENERAL ASSEMBLY. 
 
 73 
 
 the slumbrous past arrayed itself ; and the Scotch metro- 
 polis was stirred with universal emotion to see the new 
 act of that world-long drama which is renewed from age 
 to age in every church and country ; that struggle in 
 which, once in a century at least, indifference and com- 
 mon 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 able to muster. 
 At such a moment occurred the famous ‘‘ Debate on 
 Plurahties,” which holds an important place in the 
 modern history of the Scotch Church — a debate in 
 which ‘‘ Chalmers of Kilmany,” not long before zea- 
 lously ambitious to hold such plurahties in his own 
 person, but who had since gone through that myste- 
 rious 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 pulpit and parochial 
 duties. This question, which at the time, from the 
 parties and principle involved, interested everybody, 
 had naturally a double interest for the 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 congregational use and 
 
74 
 
 DEBATE ON PLUEALITIES. 
 
 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 Assembly Aisle,” says the gentleman already quoted, 
 “ afforded but very hmited accommodation, and the 
 students’ gallery was understood 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 himself 
 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 ^^prenched it off its 
 hinges ! The crash interrupted the proceedings of the 
 court, and produced both surprise and diversion, but 
 no redress of grievances.” 
 
 A somewhat unscrupulous mode of entering a church, 
 it must be allowed. Such incidents as these — and they 
 might easily be multiplied — display, in perhaps its 
 least objectionable form, that of downright personal 
 force and resistance, the national characteristic intoler- 
 ance of circumstances, and determination to subdue 
 all outside obstacles to its wiU, which shows so strongly 
 in the youthful development of Scotchmen ; a quahty 
 little recognised, but most inffuential, and which has 
 largely affected the recent history of the Scotch Church. 
 Nobody can read the hfe of Chalmers, manful and 
 often splendid as that life is, without a perception of 
 this determined wilfulness, and disinclination to yield 
 to circumstances. If the same tendency is not so 
 
INTOLERANCE OF CIRCUMSTANCES. 
 
 75 
 
 apparent in the Jeffreys, Cockburns, and Tytlers of 
 another class, it is probably because the somewhat 
 higher social sphere of the latter had tempered the 
 sharpness of their nationality. Irving’s personal strength 
 and relish for its exercise threw into amusing outward 
 exhibitions of force a quality which, though always 
 picturesque and characteristic, is not always amiable. 
 
 As the time of his probation lengthened out, it is 
 probable that Irving, with aU his inclinations rising 
 towards the profession which the Church had now 
 solemnly sanctioned his choice of, and pronounced him 
 capable for, became very weary of his schoolmaster 
 hfe. 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 educa- 
 tion which his own long apprenticeship in Kirkcaldy 
 must have fostered ; a school which — singular luck 
 for the httle Fife seaport — secured the early services < 
 of Thomas Carlyle. Changes too, and attempts at 
 widening out his limited possibilities, appear in his own 
 life. To increase the profits of his post — which how- 
 ever of themselves appear to have been considerable, as 
 such matters go, — Irving made an attempt to receive 
 private pupils, who were to attend his school and five 
 under his own charge. For this purpose, he took up 
 his abode in the Abbotshall schoolhouse, at one ex- 
 tremity of the town of Kirkcaldy, but in another parish, 
 the parish schoolmaster of which was, hke himself, a 
 candidate for the Church. The house was the upper 
 fla t of the building occupied as a school, and was more 
 commodious than the majority of schoolmasters’ houses. 
 
 A nobler Marina coidd not be than the broad terrace 
 
76 
 
 ABBOTTSHALL SCHOOL-HOUSE. 
 
 overlooking the Firth, but totally unappropriated to 
 any uses of fashion or visitors, upon which stands the 
 schoolhouse of Abbotshall, beholding from its range of 
 windows a wide landscape, always interesting, and often 
 splendid, the Firth with all its islands, the distant spires 
 and heights of Edinburgh, and the green Lothian coast 
 with 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 in- 
 cumbent, complacent among his gooseberry bushes ; 
 spoken in that sunny garden, such words throw back 
 and set aside the years which have made little change 
 on anything but man. One forgets how his sun rose 
 to noon, and at noon disastrously went down, carrying 
 with it a world of hopes ; a mist of distance conceals 
 the brilliant interval between this homely house and the 
 Glasgow Cathedral crypt. Here, where once he lived, 
 it is not the great preagher, the prophet and wonder of 
 an age, whose shadow lingers on the kindly soil. He 
 was master of Kirkcaldy Academy in those days. He 
 was “ a great mathematician ” ; the glory of an after 
 career, foreign to the schoolroom, has not rubbed out 
 that impression from the mind of his humble successor 
 on the spot where as yet he had no other fame. 
 
77 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 AFLOAT ON THE WOELD. 
 
 In 1818 , when he had been seven years 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 before. It was not his profession ; 
 and he was wasting the early summer of his life in 
 work which, however cordially he embraced it, was 
 not the best work for such a man. His assistants too, 
 on whom as the school increased he had to depend, 
 brought him into other complications ; and he was now 
 no longer a youth lingering at the beginning of his 
 career, but a man eager to enter the arena where so 
 many others less worthy were contending for the 
 prize ; and not only so, but a man engaged to be 
 married, to wdiom nature indicated the necessity of 
 fixing himself permanently in life. Moved by the rising 
 excitement of all these thoughts, and apparently not 
 without means of maintaining liimself for some time, 
 while he saw what work the world might have for him 
 to do, he finally gave up the Kirkcaldy academy in the 
 summer of 1818 , and resolving henceforward to devote 
 himself to his own profession alone, came to Edin- 
 burgh, where he took lodgings in Bristo Street, a 
 
78 
 
 BRISTO STREET. 
 
 locality still frequented by students. Here lie 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 pursuits. He 
 renewed his acquaintance with friends who had been 
 with him in his early college days ; or whom he had 
 met in his hurried visits to Edinburgh, while lingering 
 through his tedious “ 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 whatever 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 unsuc- 
 cessful probationer, a figure never rare in Scotland ; a 
 man upon whom no sunshine of patronage shone, and 
 whom just as little had the popular eye found out or 
 fixed upon ; whose services were unsolicited either by 
 friendly ministers or vacant congregations — a man 
 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 consciousness 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 ; 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 endure. His services were not required in 
 the world ; the profession for which, by the labours of 
 so many years, he had slowly qualified himself, hung 
 
RENEWED STUDIES. 
 
 79 
 
 in his hands, an idle capabihty of which nothing 
 came. Yet the pause at first seems to have been grate- 
 ful. He had nothing to do — but at all events he had 
 escaped from long toihng at a trade which was not his. 
 
 Accordingly, he attended several classes in the Col- 
 lege during the winter of 1818-19 ; among which 
 were Chemistry and Natural History. “ He prosecuted 
 these studies,” says a fellow-student, “ at least in some 
 of their branches, with great delight ; ” although in a 
 note written at this period to Mr. Cordon, afterwards 
 Dr. Gordon of Edinburgh, he confesses, while mention- 
 ing that he had been studying mineralogy, “ that he had 
 learned from it as httle about the structure of the 
 earth as he could have learned about the blessed 
 Gospel by examining the book of kittle* Chronicles ! ” 
 He was also much occupied with the modern languages ; 
 French and Italian especially. These were before 
 the days of Teutonic enthusiasm ; -but Irving seems to 
 have had a pleasure in, and faculty for, acquiring 
 languages, as was testified by his rapid acquirement 
 of Spanish a,t an after period of his fife. Some of the 
 few letters which throw any light on this period are 
 occupied with discussions about dictionaries and gram- 
 mars, and the different prices of the same — which 
 show him deep in the pursuit of Itahan, and at the 
 same time acting as general agent and ready undertaker 
 of country commissions. One of these, addressed to 
 one of his pupils in the manse of Kirkcaldy, conveys, 
 after reporting his diligence in respect to sundry of 
 such commissions, the following advice : — 
 
 “ Let me entreat you to pursue your own improve- 
 
 * Difficult, puzzling. 
 
80 < ADVICE. 
 
 ment sedulously, both religious and intellectual. Bead 
 some of the Latin and Italian classics, with a view to 
 the higher accomplishments of taste and sentiment, 
 directing aU your studies by the principle of fitting 
 your mind'* still more and more for perceiving the 
 beauties and excellences God has spread over the 
 existence of man.” 
 
 Such a motive for studies of this description has 
 novelty in it, though it is one that we are well enough 
 accustomed to see applied to all those educational 
 preparations of science with which our schools abound. 
 While he thus occupied himself in completing an 
 education which throughout must have been more a 
 gradual process of improving and furnishing the mind 
 than of systematic study, Irving had also engaged 
 warmly in all the recognised auxiliaries of university 
 training. He had been in the habit for years before of 
 occasionally attending the meetings of one of the 
 literary societies of the College, the Philomathic, and 
 taking a considerable share in its proceedings. “ He 
 was sometimes very keen and powerful in debate,” says 
 Dr. Grierson, “ and without being unfair or overbearing, 
 was occasionally in danger, by the vehemence of his 
 maimer and the strong language he employed, of being 
 misunderstood and giving offence.” But on coming to 
 Edinburgh in 1818, he found this society, now defunct, 
 too juvenile for his maturer age and thoughts ; and 
 was instrumental in instituting another of riper preten- 
 sions, intended “ for the mutual improvement of those 
 who had already completed the ordinary academic 
 course.” This was called the Philosophical Association, 
 and consisted only of seven or eight members ; of whom 
 
LITERARY SOCIETIES. 
 
 81 
 
 Edward Irving was one and Thomas Carlyle another. 
 Some teachers of local eminence and licentiates of the 
 Church made up the number. The vast disproportion 
 which exists now between these immortals and the 
 nameless, but in their own sphere not undistinguished, 
 men who surrounded them, was not apparent in those 
 days ; and probably the lesser men were at no such 
 disadvantage in their argumentations as one would 
 imagine at the first glance. The first essay delivered 
 by Irving in this society was “ somewhat unexpectedly,” 
 his old companion says, on the subject of Bible Societies^ 
 and “ was fuU of thought, ardour, and eloquence, indi- 
 cating large views and a mind prepared for high and 
 holy enterprise.” It would be curious to know what 
 he had to say on a subject which afterwards caused so 
 much commotion, and on which some of his own most 
 characteristic appearances were made. But the Philo- 
 sophical Association is also defunct ; other generations 
 have formed other societies of their own, and the 
 early sentiments of Irving and Carlyle are as entirely 
 lost as are those of their less distinguished colleagues. 
 
 In the reviving glow of intellectual life, his long 
 pondering upon the uses of the pulpit came to a dis- 
 tinct issue. He announced his intention of burning 
 all his existing sermons, and beginning on a new / 
 system : an intention which was remorselessly carried 
 out. Those prelections which the youth had dehvered 
 from year to year in the Divinity HaU, and those dis- 
 courses which the Kirkcaldy parishioners had despised, 
 and Beveridge the baker had boldly escaped from hear- 
 ing, were sacrificed in this true auto-da-fe, Ko doubt 
 it was a fit and wise holocaust. Sacrificing aU his 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
82 
 
 BEGINS ANEW. 
 
 youthful conventionalities and speculations, Lwing, at 
 six-and-twenty, began to compose what he was to 
 address to such imaginary hearers as he himself had 
 been in Kirkcaldy church. The wonderful fame which 
 flashed upon him whenever he stood forth single before 
 the world, takes a certain explanation even beyond the 
 perennial explanation of all wonders which lies in 
 genius, from this fact. For the four silent years during 
 wliich 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 super- 
 ficial feeling, told all the more strongly upon him be- 
 cause of his consciousness that the place thus occupied 
 was his own fit place, and that he himself had actually 
 something to say ; and when the schoolmaster’s daily 
 duties were over, and he had time and leisure to turn 
 tovrards his own full equipment, the result was such as 
 I have just described. Warmed and stimulated by Iris 
 own experience, he began to write sermons to himself — 
 ^ that impatient, vehement hearer, whose character and 
 intelligence none of tlie 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 
 listener, among the side pews in Efirkcaldy church. 
 
BECOMES HIS OWIs HEARER. 
 
 83 
 
 He knew to a liair’s-breadtli wliat that impatient indi- 
 vidual wanted, — how much he could bear — how he 
 could be interested, edified, or disgusted. I have no 
 doubt it was one of the greatest secrets of his after power ; 
 and that the sweet breath of popular applause, pleasant 
 though it might have been, would have injured the 
 genius which, in silence, and unacceptableness, and 
 dire prolonged experiment of other people’s preaching, 
 came to be its own perennial hearer — the first and 
 deepest critic of its own powers. 
 
 One of the first occasions when he preached on this new 
 system. Dr. Grierson adds, “ He was engaged to supply 
 the pulpit of his old professor of divinity (Dr. Eitchie), 
 when, in his noble and impassioned zeal for the supreme 
 and infalhble standard of Scripture, he startled his 
 audience by a somewhat unqualified condemnation of 
 ecclesiastical formulas, although he still unquestionably ' 
 maintained, as he had conscientiously subscribed, all the 
 doctrines of our orthodox Confession of Faith.” “ He 
 was very fearless, original, striking, and solemn,” con- 
 tinues the same authority, ‘‘ in many of his statements, 
 illustrations, and appeals.” Though he is described, 
 and indeed afterwards describes himself, as still “ fee l hi p; 
 his way ’ in respect to some matters of religious truth, 
 doubt does not seem ever to have invaded his mind. 
 At no period is there any appearance of either scepti- 
 cism or uncertainty. While his mind took exception 
 at the manner in which the truth was set forth, there 
 is no trace in his life of that period of uncertain or 
 negative belief — that agony of conflict which has come, 
 falsely or truly, to be looked upon as one of the inevitable 
 phenomena of spiritual life in every mdependent mind. ' 
 
 G 2 
 
84 
 
 UNDISTURBED BELIEF. 
 
 The heroic simplicity of Irving’s character seems to 
 have rejected that vain contest among the incomprehen- 
 sibles with which so many young men begin their career. 
 Even in the arbitrary, reasoning, unreasonable days of 
 youth, logic was not the god of the young man, who 
 never could disjoin his head from his heart, nor dis- 
 solve the absolute unity of nature in which God had 
 made him ; and he seems to have come through all the 
 perils of his time — a time in which scepticism, if less 
 refined, was by a great deal franker, honester, and more 
 outspoken than now — with a heart untouched ; and to 
 have entirely escaped what was then called Free-think- 
 ing. Whether his personal piety originated in any visible 
 ^ crisis of conversion it is impossible to tell. There is no 
 trace of it in his history, neither does he himself refer 
 to any sudden fight cast upon his fife. “ I was present 
 once or twice about this period,” Dr. Grierson tells us, 
 when he was asked to conduct family prayers. He 
 was very slow, pointed, and emphatic, and gave one, 
 as yet, more the idea of profound, earnest, and devout 
 thinking^ than of simple and fervent petitioning.” But it 
 is impossible to point to any portion of his fife as that 
 in which the spiritual touch was given which vivified 
 all. His behaviour was at all times blameless, but never 
 ascetical. “ He associated with, and lived in the world, 
 without restraint, joining the forms and fashions of 
 mixed society,” says an anonymous writer, supposed to 
 be Allan Cunningham, who afterwards acknowledges, 
 with an apologetic touch of horror, that his social habits 
 went almost the length of vulgarity, since he was once 
 in the habit of smoking when in the company of smokers ! 
 
HIS HADDINGTON PUPIL. 
 
 85 
 
 But this seems the hardest thing that anyone has to say 
 against him. 
 
 While in Edinburgh, and entering into all the modest 
 pleasures of the little intellectual society above de- 
 scribed, Irving met once more the httle pupil whose 
 precocious studies he had superintended at Haddington 
 He found her a beautiful and vivacious girl, with an 
 affectionate recollection of her old master ; and the 
 young man found a natural charm in her society. I 
 record this only for a most characteristic, momentary 
 appearance which he makes in the memory of his 
 pupil. It happened that he, with natural generosity, 
 introduced some of his friends to the same hospitable 
 house. But the generosity of the most hberal stops 
 somewhere. When Irving heard the praises of one of 
 those same friends falling too warmly from the young 
 lady’s lips, he could not conceal a httle pique and mor- 
 tification, which escaped in spite of him. When this 
 little ebullition 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. Wlien she came back, she found 
 the simple-hearted giant standing penitent to make his 
 confession. “ The truth is I was piqued,” said Irving ; 
 “ I have always been accustomed to fancy that I 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 repre- 
 sentation of his prevailing characteristic. He could no 
 more have retained what he felt to be a meanness on 
 
86 
 
 CAIs"DOUE AND PUGNACITY. 
 
 liis mind imconfessed, than he could have persevered in 
 the wrong. 
 
 With this humility, however, was conjoined, in the 
 most natural and genial union, all that old pugnacity 
 which had distinguished him in former times. Pre- 
 tension excited his wrath wherever he saw it ; and 
 perhaps he was not so long-sufFering as his gigantic 
 uncle. A story of a similar description to some already 
 quoted belongs to this period of his life. He had 
 undertaken to escort some ladies to a public meeting, 
 where it was necessary to be in early attendance at the 
 door to obtain a place. Irving had taken up a position 
 on the entrance steps with his charges under his wing, 
 when an official personage came pushing his way 
 through the crowd, and ordering the people to stand 
 back. When no attention was paid to him this autho- 
 ritative person put out his hand to thrust the Hercules 
 beside him out of his way. Irving raised in his hand 
 the great stick he carried, and turned to the intruder : 
 ‘‘Be quiet, sir, or I will annihilate you!” said the mighty 
 probationer. The composure with which this truculent 
 sentence was delivered drew a burst of laughter from 
 the crowd, which completed the discomfiture of the 
 unfortunate functionary. 
 
 Thus the session — the few busy months of university 
 labours — the long year of expectation and hope, passed 
 over amid many occupations and solacements of friend- 
 ship. But when the door was closed in the dun-coloured 
 Bristo-street room, where nothing was to be seen from 
 the windows but a dusty street, which might have 
 flourished in any vulgar town in existence, and bore 
 no trace of those enchantments of Edinburgh windows, 
 
CLOUDED PKOSPECTS. 
 
 87 
 
 whicli make up for long stairs and steep ascents, tke 
 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 expectation. He was still, after a year’s 
 interval, the same unemployed 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 humihty, that this gift of his, 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 else- 
 where, 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 
 schoolfellow of Hugh Clapperton bethought himself — 
 In all the heathen world whicli 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 Hah expectant behind him, and a due tale 
 of conversions to render year after year, Irving never 
 could have been ; but in his despondency and discourage- 
 
88 
 
 THE APOSTOLIC MISSIONAEY. 
 
 ment tlie youtliful thought which had stirred him long 
 ago, returned, as a kind of comfort and hopeful alterna- 
 tive, to his mind. He no longer cast stones into the pools, 
 as he did with the Haddington school-boys, but he set 
 about the zealous study of languages, in order to qualify 
 himself for the kind of mission' he purposed. 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 liis 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 civilisation and a printing 
 press, to clear his little garden in the wilderness. 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, 
 stiU shut up in the shabby world of Bristo-street. “ Ee- 
 jected by the hving,” 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 his- 
 tory, with the silent fathers of aU hterature standing by. 
 
DOMESTIC LETTERS. 
 
 89 
 
 prepared himself for this old world demonstration of his 
 allegiance and his faith. 
 
 Some letters which have lately come into my hands, 
 and of the existence of which I was unaware at the 
 time the above pages were written, hft the veil from 
 this silent period of his hfe, and reveal, if not much of 
 liis loftier aspirations, at least all the hopeful uncer- 
 tainty, the suspense, sometimes the depression, always 
 the warm activity and expectations, natoally belonging 
 to such a pause in the young man’s existence. They 
 are all addressed to the Martin family, who had done 
 so much to brighten his life in Kirkcaldy ; and show 
 how his style in letter-writing begins to widen out of 
 its youthful formahty into ease and characteristic 
 utterance. Ever exuberant in his expressions of obh- 
 gation and gratitude, he writes to the kind mother of 
 the Kirkcaldy manse as her to whom, of matrons, I 
 owe the most after her who gave me birth ; ” and 
 warmly acknowledges that “the greater part of that 
 which is soothing and agreeable in the experiences of 
 my last six years is associated vdth your hospitable 
 house and dehghtful family ; ” while, amid somewhat 
 solemn comphments on the acquirements of that family, 
 their former teacher joins special messages “ to Andrew, 
 with my request that each day he would read, as regxi- 
 larly as his Bible, some portion of a classical and of a 
 French author ; and to David, that he would not forget 
 the many wise havers he and I have had together.” In 
 another letter to Mrs. Martin, the young man begs her 
 acceptance, with many deprecations of the clumsy pre-^ 
 sent, of a hed^ which he describes as “ the first article 
 of furniture of which I was possessed,” confessing that 
 
90 
 
 CARLYLE. 
 
 “ it is a cumbrous and inelegant memorial.” “But let me 
 dignify it wbat I can,” be adds quaintly, “ by tbe fer- 
 vent prayer that while it appertains to your household 
 t- it may always support a healthful body, and pillow a 
 sound head, and shed its warmth over a warm and 
 honest heart. After such a benediction you never can 
 be unkind enough to refuse me.” To Mr. Martin, 
 Irving writes more gravely of his own affairs, discuss- 
 ing at length some projects for his future occupation, 
 all of which culminate in the proposed travels on which 
 he had set his heart, and which were to be commenced 
 by study in Germany. The following letter opens a 
 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 brilhant and longer than 
 Irving’s, took its beginning in the same cloudy regions 
 of uncertainty and unsuccess : — 
 
 “ Carlyle goes away to-morrow, and Brown the next clay. 
 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 Patmos many a splendid purpose to be fulfilled, and 
 much improvement to be wrought out. ‘ I have the ends of 
 my thoughts to bring together, which no one can do in this 
 thoughtless scene. I have my views of life to reform, and 
 the whole plan of 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,’ So he reasons and resolves ; but surely a 
 
HOPES AND FEARS. 
 
 91 
 
 worthier destiny awaits him than voluntary exile. And for 
 myself, here I am to remain until further orders — if from 
 the east I am ready, if from the west I am ready, and if 
 from the folk of Fife I am not the less ready. I do not 
 
 think I shall go for the few weeks with Kinloch 
 
 and I believe, after all, they are rather making their 
 use of me than anything else, but I know not ; and it 
 is myself, not them, I have to fend for, both temporally 
 and spiritually. God knows how ill I do it; but per- 
 haps in His grace He may defend me till the arrival of a 
 day’more pregnant to me with hours of religious improvement. 
 
 I had much more to say of the religious meetings I have 
 been attending, and of the Burgher Synod, and of purposes 
 of a literary kind I am conceiving, but lo I I am at an end 
 with my paper and time, having just enough of both to com- 
 mend me to the love of your household and to the fellowship 
 of your prayers. 
 
 Your most affectionate friend, 
 
 Edwakd Irving.” 
 
 It was while in this condition, and witli contending 
 hopes and despairs in his mind, tliat Irving received a 
 sudden invitation 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 Edinburgli ; but he really Avas so, in as far as 
 noble talent, a brilliant and distinct character, and — not 
 least important — a church in the most fashionable 
 quarter, could make him. With the exception of Dr. 
 Chalmers, lie was jierhaps the first man of his gene- 
 ration then in the Church of Scotland ; so tliat the 
 invitation itself was a compliment to the neglected 
 probationer. Hut the request conveyed also an intima- 
 tion that Dr. Chalmers Avas to be present, and that he 
 
92 
 
 PREACHES IN ST. GEORGE’S, EDINBURGH. 
 
 was then in search of an assistant 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 pro- 
 fession which he could possibly light upon. That path 
 which should lead him to his chosen work, at home, in 
 tlie country of his kindred, his love, and his early affec- 
 tions, was dearer to him than even that austere martyr- 
 path which it was in his heart to follow if need was. 
 He went to St. George’s with a new 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 youthful pleasure, and at the same time a 
 little transparent assumption 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 I do not know, for I 
 never put myself about to learn these things, as you know. 
 I am pleased with this, perhaps more so than I ought to be, 
 if I were as spiritually-minded as I should be — but there is 
 a reason for it. To you yet behind the curtain, la voila! 
 I believe it was a sort of pious and charitable plot to let Dr. 
 C. hear me previous to his making inquiries about me as fit 
 for his assistant. \\Tiether 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 
 
SUSPENSE. 
 
 93 
 
 of that few. Full well I know it is impossible without His 
 aid who has planned the field and who guides the weapons, 
 more unerringly than Homer’s Apollo, and inspirits the busy 
 champions ; and that I am not industrious in procuring. Oh, 
 do you and all who wish me well, give me the only favour I 
 ask, — the favour of your prayers.” 
 
 The important moment, however, passed, and the 
 young man returned unsatisfied to his lonely apart- 
 ments. He waited there for some time in blank, 
 discouraging silence ; then concluded that nothing was 
 to come of it, and that this once again his longing 
 hope to find somebody who understood him and saw 
 what he aimed at, was to be disappointed. This last 
 failure seems to have given the intolerable touch to all 
 his previous discouragements. He got up disgusted 
 from that dull probation which sliowed him only how 
 effectually all the gates of actual life and labour were 
 barred against him. Even at that disconsolate moment 
 he could still find time to write to his pupil and future 
 _ sister-in-law about the Itahan dictionary which he had 
 undertaken to procure for her. Then he packed up 
 his books and boxes, and sent them off to his father’s 
 house 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 m such a restless condition of mind 
 
94 
 
 GOES TO IRELAND. 
 
 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 at the end. 
 Some notable crime had been perpetrated in Ireland 
 about that time, the doer of which was still at large, 
 filhng the minds of the people with dreams of cap- 
 ture, 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 travelhng without any feasible motive or ob- 
 ject. The excited authorities found the circumstances 
 so remarkable, that they laid suspicious hands upon the 
 singular stranger, who was only freed from their 
 surveillance by applying to the Presbyterian minister, 
 the Eev. Mr. Hanna, who liberated his captive brother 
 and took him home with Irish frankness. That visit 
 was a jubilee for the children of the house. Black 
 melancholy and disgust had fled before the breezes at 
 sea, and the amusing but embarrassing contretemps 
 on land ; and 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 Eev. Hr. 
 Hanna of Edinburgh, the biographer and son-in-law of 
 Chalmers, who, at the distance of so many years, re- 
 members the stories of the stranger thus suddenly 
 brought to the fireside, and his genial, cordial presence 
 wliich charmed the house. 
 
 After this the young man wandered over the north of 
 
WANDERINGS. 
 
 95 
 
 Ireland, as lie had often wandered over the congenial 
 districts of his own country, for some weeks ; pursuing 
 the system he had learned to adopt at home, — walking 
 as the crow flies, finding lodging and shelter in the 
 wayside cottages, sharing the potato and the milk 
 which formed the peasant’s meal. A singular journey ; 
 performed in primitive hardship, fatigue, and brotherly 
 kindness ; out of the reach of civilised persons or con- 
 ventional necessities ; undertaken out of pure caprice, 
 the evident sudden impulse of letting things go as they 
 would ; and persevered in with something of the same 
 abandon and determined abstraction of himself from 
 all the disgusts and disappointments of 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 ques- 
 tions which shortly must be faced and resolved. Pre- 
 sently it would be necessary to go back, to make the 
 last preparations, to take the decisive steps, and say the 
 farewells. He fairly ran away from it for a moment’s 
 breathing time, and took refuge in the rude unknown 
 life of the Irish cabins ; — a thing which most people have 
 somehow done, or at least attempted to do, at tlie 
 crisis of their hves. 
 
 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, lie found a 
 bulky enclosure from his father, in the Coleraine post- 
 office. Gavin Irving wrote, in explanation of his double 
 letter (for postage was no trifle in those days), that he 
 would have copied the enclosed if he could have read 
 it ; but not being able to make out a word, was com- 
 
96 
 
 INVITATION TO GLASGOW. 
 
 polled to send it on for liis 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 invitation was by no means distinct as to the 
 object for which he was wanted. It was enough, how- 
 ever, to stir the reviving heart of the young giant,' Avhom 
 his fall, and contact with kindly mother earth, had re- 
 freshed 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 lingering 
 pangs of suspense. 
 
 Wliile waiting the Doctor’s return, Ir\dng again re- 
 ported himself and his new expectations to his friends 
 in Kirkcaldy. 
 
 “ Glasgow, 1st September, 1819. 
 
 You see I am once more in Scotland ; and how I came to 
 have found my way to the same place I started from, you 
 shall now learn. On Friday last arrived at Coleraine a letter 
 from Dr. Chalmers, pressing me to meet him in Edinburgh 
 on the 30th, or in Glasgow the 31st Aug. So here I arrived, 
 after a very tempestuous passage in the Roh Roy ; and upon 
 calling on the Doctor, I find he is still in Anstruther, at which 
 place he proposes remaining awhile longer than he antici- 
 pated, and requests to have a few days of me there. So, 
 but for another circumstance, you might have seen me post- 
 ing through Kirkcaldy to Anster, the famed in song. That 
 circumstance is Mrs. Chalmers’s ill-health, of which he will 
 be more particularly informed than he is at present by this 
 post ; and then Miss Pratt tells me there is no doubt he will 
 return post-haste, as all good husbands ought. Here, then, I 
 am, a very sorry sight, I can assure you. You may remember 
 how disabled in my rigging I was in the Kingdom* ; conceive 
 
 * The Kingdom of Fife, fondly so called by its affectionate popu- 
 lation. 
 
INTEREST IN CHURCH AFFAIRS. 
 
 97 
 
 me, then, to have wandered a whole fortnight among the ragged 
 sons of St. Patrick, to have scrambled about the Griant’s Cause- 
 way, and crossed the Channel twice, and sailed in fish-boats and 
 pleasure-boats, and driven gigs and jaunting-cars, and never 
 once condescended to ask the aid of a tailor’s needle. Think 
 of this, and figiue 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 Grlasgow bodies ken fu’ weel it’s merely 
 impossible to carry about with ane a’ the comforts of the 
 Sa’t Market at ane’s tail, or a’ the comforts of Bond Street 
 either. I shall certainly now remain till I have seen and 
 finally determined 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 organisa- 
 tion of the Synod of Ulster, and of a case of disciphne 
 which had just occurred in it, on wlfich, on behalf of 
 a friend at Coleraine, the traveller was anxious to 
 consult the experience of the minister of Kirkcaldy. 
 In respect to his own prospects, Irving’s suspense was 
 now speedily terminated. Dr. Chalmers returned, and at 
 once proposed to him to become his assistant in St. John’s. 
 The solace to the young man’s discouraged mind must 
 have been unspeakable. Here, at last, was one man 
 who understood the unacceptable probationer, and per- 
 ceived in him that faculty which he himself discerned 
 dimly and still hoped in — troubled, but not convinced 
 by the general disbelief. To have his gift recognised 
 by another mind was new life to Irving ; and such a 
 mind ! the generous inteUigence of the first of Scotch 
 preachers. But with Presbyterian scrupulosity, in the 
 VOL. I. H 
 
98 
 
 DOUBTFUL OF HIS OWN SUCCESS. 
 
 midst of his eagerness, Irving hung back stiU. He 
 could not submit to be “ intruded upon ” the people by 
 the mere will of the incumbent, and would not receive 
 even that grateful distinction, if he continued as 
 distasteful as he had hitherto found himself. He was 
 not confident of his prospects even when backed by 
 the powerful encouragement of Hr. Chalmers. “ I wiU 
 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 humihty 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 weU 
 liked, but some people thought him rather fiowery. 
 However, they were satisfied that he must be a good 
 preacher, since Hr. 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 possession of 
 the highest preaching of the time, that Irving opened his 
 mouth at last, and began his natural career. 
 
99 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 GLASGOW. 
 
 It was in October, 1819, that Irving began his work in 
 Glasgow — the first real work in his own profession 
 which had opened to him. He was then in the full 
 strength of early manhood, seven-and-twenty, the 
 ‘‘ Scottish uncelebrated Irving,” whom his great country- ^ 
 man regretfully commemorates. His remarkable ap- 
 pearance seems, in the first place, to have impressed 
 everybody. A lady, who was then a member of Dr. 
 Chalmers’s church, and who had access to the imme- 
 diate circle surrounding him, tells how she herself, on 
 one occasion, being particularly engaged in some do- 
 mestic duties, had given orders to her servants not to 
 admit any visitors. She was interrupted in her occupa- 
 tion, however, notwithstanding this order, by the en- 
 trance of one of her maids, in a state of high excite- 
 ment and curiosity. “ Mem I ” burst forth the girl, 
 
 “ there ’s a wonderful grand gentleman called ; I couldna 
 say you were engaged to him, I think he maun be a 
 Highland Chief ! ” — ‘‘ That Mr. Irving ! ” exclaimed 
 another individual of less elevated and poetical concep- 
 tions — “ That Dr. Chalmers’s helper ! I took him for a 
 cavalry officer !” “ Do you know. Doctor,” said a third, 
 addressing Chalmers himself, “ what things people are 
 
 H 2 
 
100 
 
 DE. CHALMEES’S HELPEE. 
 
 saying about your new assistant ? They say he ’s like a 
 brigand chief.” “ Well, well,” said Dr. Chalmers, with a 
 smile, “whatever they say, they never think him hke any- 
 thing but a leader of men.” Such was the impression he 
 produced upon the little mercantile-ecclesiastical world 
 of Glasgow. There, as everywhere, people were instinct- 
 ively 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 al- 
 ready fallen, and which seems to have been entirely appro- 
 priate 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 frankness 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 stiU fingers here and 
 there a recollection of that kindliest gemal visitor. 
 Chalmers himself, though a man of the warmest hu- 
 manity, had at all times a certain abstract intentness 
 about him, which must have altered the character of 
 individual kindness as coming from his hands. His 
 parishioners were to him emphatically his parishioners, 
 the “ body ” (not vile, perhaps ; but still more pro- 
 foundly important for the experiment’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 Sandys, the Campbells and Macalisters, 
 — the human neighbours who were of his personal 
 acquaintance and individually interesting to himself. 
 
CONDITION OF GLASGOW. 
 
 101 
 
 Such a distinction makes itself known involuntarily. 
 The position he held was one completely secondary 
 and auxihary, not even answering to that of a curate ; 
 for he was still only a probationer, 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 which Dr. Chalmers bore up on his Hercu- 
 lean shoulders, and which naturally collapsed when his 
 mighty vital force was withdrawn. The “ helper ” went 
 about more hghtly, unburdened by social economy ; 
 and gained for himself, among the poor people whom it 
 was his daily work to visit, the place of an undoubted 
 and much-prized friend. 
 
 Glasgow was at this period in a very disturbed and 
 troublous condition. Want of work and want of food 
 had wrought their natural social efiect upon the indus- 
 trious classes ; and the eyes of the hungry weavers and 
 cotton-spinners were turned with spasmodic anxiety 
 to those wild pohtical quack remedies, the inefficacy of 
 which no amount of experience will ever make 
 clear to people in similar circumstances. The entire 
 country was in a dangerous mood ; palpitating through- 
 out mth deep-seated complaint and grievance, to which 
 the starving revolutionaries in such towns as Glasgow 
 acted only as a kind of safety-valve, preventing a worse 
 explosion. The discontent was drawing towards its 
 chmax when Irving received his appointment as 
 assistant to the minister of St. John’s. In such a large 
 poor parish he encountered on all sides the mutter- 
 ings of the popular storm. Chalmers, always hberal 
 and statesmanlike, saw the real grievance, which finally 
 
102 
 
 lEVINGS POLITICAL SENTIMENTS. 
 
 laboured 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 construc- 
 tion. He was one of those men of inconsistent pohtics, 
 governed at once by prejudices and sympathies, whose 
 “ attitude ” it is impossible to foretell ; and of whom one 
 can only predict that their political opinions wiU take 
 the colour given by their heart ; and that the side most 
 strongly and feelingly set forth before them will un- 
 doubtedly 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 pohtical opinions, indeed, 
 seem to have been such as are common to literary men, 
 artists, and women, entirely unconnected with pohtics, 
 and who only now and then find themselves sufficiently 
 interested to inform themselves upon public matters. 
 Accordingly, he appears in after-life in strong opposi- 
 tion 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 creatures known to 
 himself, persuading him that no harm could come from 
 their hands, he stands perfectly calm and friendly 
 amid the panic, disdaining to fear. That the crisis was 
 an alarming one everybody allows. Nothing less than 
 the horrors of the French revolution— battle and mur- 
 der and sudden death — floated before the terror-stricken 
 eyes of all who had anything to lose. Whig Jeffrey, a 
 non-alarmist and (in moderation) friend of the people. 
 
STATE OF THE COUOTEY IN GENERAL. 
 
 103 
 
 declares, solemnly, that “ if the complaints of the peo* 
 pie 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 other answer than preparations to put them down 
 by force, then indeed we may soon have a civil war 
 among us — and a civil war of a character far more 
 deplorable and atrocious than was ever known in this 
 land — a war of the rich against the poor ; of the 
 Government against the body of the people ; of the 
 soldiery against the great bulk of the labouring classes ; 
 — a war which can never be followed by any cordial or 
 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 support and consolation 
 under all other calamities.” 
 
 It was a conjunction of many troubles : foremost 
 among which was that sharp touch of starvation 
 which makes men desperate ; that Want — most per 
 tinacious and maddest of aU revolutionaries, who 
 never fails to revenge bitterly the carelessness which 
 lets him enter our 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 dis- 
 mal little tragi-comedy of Bonnymuir some months 
 later, and there be made a melancholy end of. But 
 
104 
 
 ieving’s confidence in the eadicals. 
 
 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. 
 Pergusson, a few months after his arrival in Glasgow. 
 The immediate object of the letter is to congratulate 
 his sister and her husband on the birth of their first- 
 born. Eeferring to this event in the first place, he 
 says : — 
 
 “ You have now consigned to your care a more valuable 
 article than the greatest Emperor, who is not a father, can 
 boast of, — the care of an immortal who shall survive when this 
 earth shall have removed without leaving a memorial, save in 
 the memories of those spirits to whom it has been the train- 
 ing-place for heaven or hell. How much the difference is 
 between the real value, so much the difference in general is 
 between the reputed value ; but, as the mathematicians say, 
 it is in the inverse way. But of you I know and hope better, 
 that you will account of him while you are spared together 
 as a precious deposit the Almighty has thought you worthy 
 of 
 
 ‘‘You will look for Glasgow intelligence, and truly I can 
 neither get nor give any. If I should report from my daily 
 ministrations among the poorest class and the worst reported- 
 of class of our population, I should deliver an opinion so 
 favourable as it would 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 
 starvation. Yet we are armed against them to the teeth; 
 and the alarm took so generally that, for all my convictions 
 
THE CALTON WEAVERS. 
 
 105 
 
 and knowledge, I had engaged a horse-pistol to stand out in 
 defence of my own castle like a true Englishman ! But the 
 storm seems over-driven, although this morning, even, there 
 was a summons to the sharp-shooters by break of day, and all 
 the soldiers to arms in the barracks. Nobody knows a whit, 
 and everybody fears a deal. The common ignorance is only 
 surpassed by the common alarm, and that you know is the 
 most agitating of all alarms. But from Monday to Saturday 
 I am going amongst them without the slightest apprehension; 
 but perhaps I may be convinced by point of pike some day, 
 which I pray may be averted for his sake that should hold it. 
 This is not braggadocio, but Christian (feeling) ; for the blood 
 of the innocent always stains most deeply the hand that sheds 
 
 it I hope my father and you won’t forget yom* 
 
 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, 
 
 “ Edward 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 dehverance on the same subject, contained in 
 his letters to Wilberforce. There the clear-sisflited 
 Scotch legislator, whom his profession bounded to a 
 parish, makes a stride of twenty years to the conclusions 
 of another generation, and lays his hand broadly upon 
 that principle which has now been received among the 
 standard principles of English government. “ From my 
 extensive minglings with the people,” says Dr. Chalmers, 
 “ I am quite confident in affirming the power of another 
 
106 
 
 CHALMEES AND lEVING. 
 
 expedient (that is besides the repeal of certain speci- 
 fied taxes) to be such, that it would operate with all 
 the quickness and efiPect 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 pohty 
 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 hke others ; men trustful and cordial ; 
 kind to himself, open to kindness ; whom it behoves 
 their neighbours to treat, not with the cruelty of fear, 
 but, “ with tenderness and feehng, as well is due^' he 
 adds with manly and touching simplicity, “ when you 
 see people in the midst of nakedness and starvation.'' A 
 greater contrast in agreement could scarcely be. 
 
 A similar testimony to that which I have already 
 quoted, and evidence of the position he took in his 
 Glasgow labours, is conveyed in a letter to Hr. Martin, 
 written upon occasion of the death of a relative, in 
 which after some thoughtful regrets that men take so 
 little pams to “ perpetuate for themselves ” ties “ which 
 give so much enjoyment here, and which, judging from 
 the proportion of things, must give infinitely more 
 hereafter,” he thus conveys his impressions of his new 
 sphere in the fight most interesting to his friend 
 
 “ It gave me singular pleasure the other night to hear a 
 young man, Mr. Heggie, from Kirkcaldy (foot of Tolbooth 
 
INCESSANT LABOUES. 
 
 107 
 
 Wynd), who has been of singular utility in this city, reclaim- 
 ing by Sabbath-school operations the forlorn hope of the 
 Salt Market andBriggate — to hear him date his first impres- 
 sions of serious religion from the conversations he held with 
 you .before his first communion. This should encourage your 
 heart, for he is, as it were, the nucleus of an establishment 
 including not less than 700 children; and he is giving them 
 spirit and example in truly a Christian style. Thus the Lord 
 has made you in your parlour instrumental in penetrating and 
 pervading the noisome recesses of this overgrown city. For 
 all the impressions which are abroad I entertain the best 
 opinion of our people ; and I consider the leading ones most 
 grossly misinformed, if not misguided by design. Dr. 
 Chalmers’s plan is to take up his district of the parish by 
 groups. I have superadded the taking of them up family by 
 family ; so that every mortal comes in review before me, and 
 into contact with me upon a subject on which they are 
 spoken of as being held by no bounds. Yet so it is — I have 
 hardly encountered anything but the finest play of welcome 
 and congeniality ; and this very half hour have I returned 
 from so pervading twenty families in our sorest district, and 
 have been hailed as the bearer of good tidings, though I 
 
 carried nothing with me but spiritual offers I am 
 
 making the best of St. John’s I can, though I have been of 
 late hardly doing myself justice, being generally compressed 
 to Saturday for pulpit preparations by the week-day occupa- 
 tions of visiting, &c. — yet I think it is well employed.” 
 
 This Glasgow parish had come to singular fortune at 
 that moment. After much labour and many exertions, 
 Chalmers, already the greatest preacher and most 
 eminent man in the entire Scotch estabhshment, 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 
 
108 
 
 THE PARISH OF ST. JOHN. 
 
 enough to ghde 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 Scot- 
 land, comparatively little affected by English usages 
 and manners — a self-supporting, independent nation, 
 ignorant of poor-laws and workhouses, and fuU 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 charac- 
 teristic intentness. Like other men of the greatest 
 type, he was unable to believe that what he might do 
 was yet impossible to others. Eesolute to show aU 
 Scotland and the world that the Church’s ancient 
 primitive provision could yet meet all increased modern 
 emergencies, and able from his high position and in- 
 fluence to bring, half by coercion of moral force, half 
 by persuasion, the Glasgow magistrates to accept his 
 terms, he made it a condition of his remaining among 
 them that this parish of St. John’s, one of the largest, 
 poorest, and most degraded in the town, should be 
 handed over to him in undisturbed possession, swept 
 clean of all poor-rates, workhouses, and pubhc parish 
 aid. He did not demand the criminal supervision and 
 power of the sword certainly ; though at this distance 
 of time, and to English readers, the one might seem 
 almost as reasonable as the other ; but he secured his 
 terms with the puzzled civic functionaries, who half be- 
 lieved in him. In this parish Chalmers set up the most 
 
ITS AUTOCEAT. 
 
 109 
 
 surprising, splendid autocracy that has ever been at- 
 tempted — an autocracy solely directed to the benefit of 
 that httle world of people in the most unlovely portion 
 of 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 10,304 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, accordmg to 
 ordinary calculations, leave a 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 briUiant years “ the 
 plate ” not only supphed all the wants of the poor in 
 the parish, but did large service besides in the erection 
 of schools ; and for thirteen years, as long as the 
 machinery originated by the wonderful imperious 
 vitality of this great man could go on without a new 
 impulse, its success continued as perfect as it was ex- 
 traordinary. This seems to me the highest and most 
 * wonderful victory of Chalmers’s life. It is unique in 
 modern annals — a bold return, out of the heart of all 
 those evils of extreme civihsation which crush the 
 poor, into that primitive hfe when neighbour helped 
 neighbour and friend stood by friend. What an ideal 
 despot, grand patriot autocrat, or irresponsible vizier, 
 that Scotch minister would have made ! 
 
 In this system of things, Irving took his place in 
 perfect accord, but not resemblance. Statesmanship 
 
no 
 
 THE SHOEMAKER. 
 
 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 con- 
 fidence 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 
 humph of imphed criticism, while his trembhng wife 
 made her deprecating curtsy in the foreground. The 
 way in which this intractable individual was finally won 
 over, is attributed by some tellers of the story to a sud- 
 den happy inspiration on Irving’s part ; but, by others, 
 to plot and intention. Approaching the bench one day, 
 the visitor took up a piece of patent leather, then a 
 recent invention, and remarked upon it in somewhat 
 skilled terms. The shoemaker went on with redoubled 
 industry at his work; but at last, roused and exas- 
 perated 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 in- 
 terested and mollified, the cobbler slackened work, and 
 hstened while his visitor described some process of 
 making shoes by machinery, which he had carefully got 
 
“HE KENS ABOUT LEATHEE.” Ill 
 
 up for the purpose. At last the shoemaker so far for- 
 got 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 pur- 
 sued ; and on the following Sunday the rebel made a 
 defiant, shy appearance at church. Next day Irving 
 encountered him in the savoury GaUowgate, and hailed 
 him as a friend. Walking beside him in natural talk, 
 the taU probationer laid his hand upon the shirt-sleeve 
 of the shrunken sedentary workman, and marched by 
 his side along the well-frequented street. By the time 
 they had 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 acquired 
 that suit of Sunday “ blacks ” so dear to the heart of the 
 poor Scotchman, and became a churchgoer and respect- 
 able member of society ; while his acknowledgment of 
 his conqueror was conveyed with characteristic reti- 
 cence, and concealment of aU deeper feehng, in the self- 
 excusing pretence — ‘‘ He ’s a sensible man, yon ; he 
 kens about leather ! ” 
 
 The preacher who knew about leather had, however, 
 in conjunction with that cordiahty which won the 
 shoemaker’s heart, a solemnity and apostohc demeanour 
 which might have looked like afiectation in another 
 man, and has, indeed, been called afiectation even in 
 Irving by those who did not know him ; though never 
 
112 
 
 APOSTOLIC BENEDICTION. 
 
 by any man who did. Probably his long, silent con- 
 templation of that solitary mission which he had set 
 his heart on, had made him frame his very maimer and 
 address accordmg to apostolic rule. When he entered 
 those sombre apartments in the Gallowgate, 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 nobody 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, aU retaining sometliing of ecclesi- 
 astical knowledge, however little 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 
 subject. It was his habitual practice ; and the agency, 
 puzzled and a httle awed, “ could not make an objection 
 to it.” He did stiUmore 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 starthng to Scotch ears, but acquiesced in 
 involuntarily as natural to the man who, aU solitary 
 
INTERCOURSE WITH THE POOR. 
 
 13 
 
 and individual in picturesque homely grandeur, went 
 to and fro among them. So grave a preface did not 
 detract from the entke 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 par- 
 taker of their confidence, and a witness of the hardships they 
 had to endure. In the scantiest and perhaps worst times with 
 which this manufacturing city hath ever been pressed, it was 
 my almost daily habit to make a round of their families, and 
 uphold, what in me lay, the declining cause of Grod. There 
 have I sitten with little silver or gold of my own to bestow, 
 with little command over the charity of others, and heard 
 the various narratives of hardship — narratives uttered for the 
 most part with modesty and patience ; oftener drawn forth 
 with difficulty than obtruded on your ear ; — their wants, their 
 misfortunes, their ill-requited labour, their hopes vanishing, 
 their families dispersing in search of better habitations, the 
 Scottish economy of their homes giving way before encroach- 
 ing necessity ; debt rather than saving their condition ; bread 
 and water their scanty fare ; hard and ungrateful labour the 
 portion of their house. All this have I often seen and listened 
 to within naked walls ; the witness, oft the partaker, of their 
 miserable cheer; with little or no means to relieve. Yet be 
 it known, to the glory of Grod and the credit of the poor, and 
 the encouragement of tender-hearted Christians, that such 
 application to the heart’s ailments is there in our religion, 
 and such a hold in its promises, and such a pith of endurance 
 in its noble examples, that when set forth by one inexperienced 
 tongue, with soft words and kindly tones, they did never fail 
 to drain the heart of the sourness that calamity engenders, 
 VOL. I. 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 A LEGACY. 
 
 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 Chris- 
 tian visitor, “ with httle or no means to relieve,” except 
 by sympathy, 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 ministrations. He who was “ often 
 the partaker of their miserable cheer,” who blessed the 
 poor meal and blessed the house, and hnked himself to 
 the sufferers by such half-sacramental breaking of 
 the bread of sorrow, could never fail to find his way 
 into their hearts. He was not always, however, with- 
 out 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 
 when he went out to his visitations. The legacy lasted 
 just as many days as it was pounds in value, and doubt- 
 less produced as much pleasure to its owner as ever was 
 purchased by money. 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 HELP OF A BROTHER. 
 
 115 
 
 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 theo- 
 retically from no other teacher than liis 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, how- 
 ever, is as rare as any gift of genius. Irving was 
 unique in it among his contemporaries ; and has had | 
 but few equals in any time. 
 
 Matters, however, had not changed much up to 
 , this period in respect to his preaching. Friends who 
 accompanied him to church when it was his turn to 
 conduct the services, tell, as a very common incident, 
 that the preacher going in was met by groups coming 
 out with disappointed looks, complaining, as the reason 
 of their departure, that “it’s no himseV the day.” 
 Nothing better was to be looked for when liimseV was 
 such a man as Chalmers ; and if his assistant felt at aU 
 sore on the 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 brilhant vision of what he yet 
 might attain had flickered before his eyes aU 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 
 
116 
 
 ‘‘it’s no himsel’.” 
 
 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 imperfections have not been 
 hid from your eyes.” Yet this unpopularity, admitted 
 with frankness so unusual, and perhaps excessive, was by 
 no means universal. Within the great assembly who ve- 
 nerated Dr. Chalmers was a smaller circle who looked 
 upon Irving with all the enthusiastic admiration natu- 
 rally given to a man whose merits the admirer himself 
 has been the first to find out. “ Irving’s preaching,” said 
 Dr. Chalmers, evidently not with any very great ad- 
 miration of it, “ is hke Itahan music, appreciated only 
 by connoisseurs.” But he does not hesitate to compare 
 the influence of his assistant, on another and more cor- 
 dial occasion, to a special magnetic spell, which went 
 to the very hearts of those susceptible to it, though it 
 fell blank upon the unimpressionable multitude. On 
 the whole. Dr. Chalmers’s opinion of him is the opinion 
 of one who only half understands, and does not more 
 than half sympathise with, a character much less broad, 
 but in some respects more elevated than his own. A 
 certain impatience flashes into the judgment. The 
 statesman and philosopher watches the poet-enthuskst 
 with a doubtful, troubled, half-amused, half-sad per- 
 plexity ; — likes him, yet does not know what he would 
 be at ; is embarrassed by his warm love, praise, and 
 gratitude; — vexed to see him commit himself; — im- 
 patient of what he himself thinks creduhty, vanity. 
 
TWO PRESBYTEES. 
 
 117 
 
 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-compre- 
 hension is apparent throughout the whole intercourse < 
 of these two great men. That Chalmers was the 
 greater intellect of the two I do not attempt to question ; 
 nor yet that he was in all practical matters the more 
 eminent and serviceable man ; but that Irving had 
 instinctive comprehensions and graces, which went 
 high over the head of his great contemporary, seems 
 to me as evident as the other conclusion. 
 
 A light quite peculiar and characteristic falls upon 
 Glasgow by means of these two figures, — Chalmers, 
 with a certain sweep and wind of action always about 
 him, rushing on impetuous, at the height of his influ- 
 ence, legislating for his parish in bold independence, 
 perhaps the only real Autocrat of his day; — Irving, 
 almost loitering about the unlovely streets, open to aU 
 the individual interests thereabouts ; learned in the 
 names, the stories, the pecuharities of his three hundred 
 famihes; stiU secondary, dependent, dallying with 
 dreams of a time when he should be neither, of a 
 Utopia all his own ; not influential at aU as yet, only 
 remarkable ; noted on the streets, noted in the houses 
 he frequented, an out-of-the-way, incomprehensible 
 man, whose future fortune it was not safe to foretell. In 
 the anecdotes told of him he often looms forth with a 
 certain simple elevation which is unmoved by ordinary 
 restraints and motives ; and always leaves some recol- 
 lection of his imposing presence upon the memories of 
 all whom he encounters. Amid aU the luxuries of 
 
118 
 
 THE PEDLAR. 
 
 rich, lavish Glasgow, he still set forth afoot in his times 
 of relaxation, in primitive hardness, carrying his own 
 belongings on his shoulder, or helped the weak on 
 his way without a moment’s consideration of the pro- 
 priety of the matter. Thus, on one occasion he is re- 
 ported to have been on his way to some Presbytery 
 meeting in the country — probably some ordination or 
 settlement which attracted his interest, though not a 
 member of the court. The ministers of the Presbytery 
 were to be conveyed in carriages to the scene of action, 
 but Irving, who was only a spectator and supernumerary, 
 set off on foot, according to his usual custom. The 
 “ brethren ” in their carriages came up to him on the 
 way — came up at least to a tall, remarkable figure, 
 which would have been undeniably that of Dr. Chal- 
 mers’s helper, but that it bore a pedlar’s pack upon its 
 stalwart shoulders, and was accompanied side by side 
 by the fatigued proprietor of the same. To the laughter 
 and jokes which hailed him, however, Irving presented 
 a rather affronted, indignant aspect. He could see no 
 occasion for either laughter or remark. The pedlar 
 was a poor Irishman worn out with his burden. “ His 
 countrymen were kind to me,” said the offended proba- 
 tioner, recalling those days when, sick at heart, he 
 plunged among the Ulster cabins, and got some comfort 
 out of his wanderings. He carried the pack steadily 
 tiU its poor owner was rested and ready to resume it, 
 and thought it only natural. On another occasion he 
 had gone down to visit his old friend, Mr. Story, of 
 Kosneath, in that beautiful little peninsula ; and in the 
 sweet gloaming of a summeT night stood on the narrow 
 tongue of land called Eow Point, and shouted across 
 
119 
 
 “ A MAN ON HOESE.” 
 
 the tiny strait for a boat. As he stood with his port- 
 manteau on his shoulder, among the twihght shadows, 
 he heard an answer over the water, and presently saw 
 the boat gliding across the loch ; but when it had 
 reached half way, to Irving’s amazement and impatience, 
 it turned back : some commotion arose on the opposite 
 side, lights flickered about the bank, and only after a 
 considerable interval and many impatient shouts, the 
 oars began again to dip into the water, and the boat 
 approached heavily. When Irving demanded why he 
 had turned back, and had kept him so long waiting, the 
 boatman, gliding up to the beach, looked discomfited 
 and incredulous at his passenger. “ I thought you were 
 a man on horse ! ” cried the startled ferryman, looking 
 up bewildered at the gigantic figure and portmanteau, 
 which distance and darkness had shaped into a centaur. 
 He had gone back to fetch the horse-boat, which in aU 
 its cumbrous convenience was now thrust up upon the 
 shingle. Irving did not appreciate the consideration. 
 It even appears that he lost his temper on the occasion, 
 and did not seethe joke when the story was told. 
 
 In one of those walking excursions he penetrated 
 into the depths of Ayrshire, and reached at nightfall the 
 house of the Howies of Lochgoin, — a name which 
 recalls aU the covenanting traditions of that wild dis- 
 trict. The family were at prayers — or “worship,” as 
 it is usual to caU it in Scotland — and one of its mem- 
 bers remembers the surprising apparition of the tall 
 stranger in the spence^ or outer room, when they all 
 rose from their knees, as having had a rather alarming 
 effect upon the family, wlipse devotions he had joined 
 unheard, and to whose house he bade his usual “ Peace.” 
 
120 
 
 THE HOWIES. 
 
 Though they were entirely strangers to him, Irving not 
 only made friends, but established to his own satisfaction 
 a link of relationship, by means of the Waldensian 
 Howys, from whom he himself boasted descent. The 
 original family of refugees, according to his own 
 account, had split into two branches, one of which 
 wandered to Ayrshire, while one settled in Annan. 
 The hnk thus accidentally found was warmly remem- 
 bered, and the Orations^ published when Irving was at 
 his height of early glory, and one of the most largely 
 read and brilliantly criticised of modern works, found 
 its way, by the hand of the first traveller he could hear 
 of, from that world of London which turned his head, 
 as people imagine, down to the moorland solitudes of 
 Lochgoin. 
 
 The year after his arrival in Glasgow he made an- 
 other visit to Ireland, which was attended by one 
 amusing result, upon which his friends often ralhed him. 
 He had made an appointment with a young Glasgow 
 friend to meet him at Annan, in his father’s house, with 
 the idea of guiding the stranger through those moors 
 and mosses of Dumfriesshire which were so dear and 
 well known to himself. But 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 Irving’s house af^Annan were hmited ; 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 
 
HOLIDAY ADVENTURES. 
 
 121 
 
 stranger tlie way to the waterside and all the modest 
 beauties of the httle town. The young man did not 
 miss his friend, nor was any way impatient for Edward’s 
 arrival ; and when the truant did come, at the end of a 
 fortnight, he was called upon to greet the stranger, 
 whom he had himself sent to Annan, as his sister’s 
 affianced husband, — an astonishing but very happy 
 conclusion, as it turned out, to his own carelessness. 
 
 At another hohday time Irving accompanied a mem- 
 ber of his congregation in some half-pleasure, half- 
 business excursion m 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 httle party of soldiers, 
 who were crossing a bridge af the foot of the hill, were 
 driven into the stream by the vehemence of the unex- 
 pected charge. Some little distance further on, the gig 
 and the travellers paused at a roadside inn, into the 
 pubhc room of which entered, after a while, several of 
 these soldiers. Two of them regarded with whispered 
 conferences the driver of the gig ; and when an oppor- 
 tunity of conversation offered, one of the two addressed 
 Irving. “ This man,” said the skilfid Scotch conversa- 
 tionahst, ‘‘ thinks he’s the wisest man in a’ the regiment. 
 What do ye think, sir ? He says you’re the great Dr. 
 Chalmers.” “ 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 warrior ; “ or you wouldna drive like 
 yon ” 
 
 Such comic lights, often dwelt upon and much ap- 
 
122 
 
 SIMPLICITY OF HEART. 
 
 predated by his friends, played about this unusual 
 figure, necessary accompaniments of its singular aspect. 
 To his intimates he opened his heart so freely, and 
 exhibited all his pecuharities after so transparent a 
 fashion, that those points of his character which might 
 have appeared defects to the eyes of strangers, were 
 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 childhke sim- 
 plicity and desire to be loved; — his crystal trans- 
 parency of character letting every httle weakness show 
 through it as frankly as his noblest qualities ; 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 lan- 
 guage “ such as grave livers do in Scotland use,” with a 
 natural pomp of diction at all times ; and took a cer- 
 tain priestly attitude which is not usual in Scotland, — 
 the attitude of a man who stands between God and his 
 fellows. A story, for which I will not vouch, is told of 
 one such remarkable appearance which he made at a 
 Glasgow dinner-party. A young man was present who 
 had permitted himself to talk profanely, in a manner 
 now unknown, and which would not be tolerated in 
 any party now-a-days. After expending all his little 
 wit upon Priestcraft and its inventions, this youth. 
 
SOLEMMTY OF DEPORTMENT. 
 
 123 
 
 getting bold by degrees, at last attacked Irving — who 
 had hitherto taken no notice of him — directly, as one 
 of the world-deluding order. Irving heard him out in 
 silence, and then turned to the other listeners. “ My 
 friends,” he said, “ I wiU make no reply to this 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 occurred I cannot teU ; but 
 it is one of the anecdotes told of him, and it certainly 
 embodies the most popular conception of his demeanour 
 and bearing. 
 
 The labours of all engaged in that parish were un- 
 ceasing; and in addition to the two services on each 
 Sunday, which were Irving’s share of the work, and 
 the perpetual round of parochial visits and occasional 
 services, he was “ always ready,” — as says Mr. David 
 Stowe, the educational reformer of Glasgow, whose life- 
 long work was then commencing in a great system of 
 Sunday schools, — to lend his aid wherever it was re- 
 quired. When the Sunday scholars were slow to be 
 drawn out, or the district unpromising, or a more 
 distinct impulse necessary than could be given by mere 
 visits and 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 minis- 
 trations which were at the period considered rather 
 
124 
 
 CONVICTS IN GLASGOW JAIL. 
 
 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 suc- 
 ceeded 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 own, 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 recesses of the Glasgow St. Giles’s ; 
 and went to aU the haunts of their wretched client, 
 a charitable, forlorn hope. But the matter, it turned 
 out, was hopeless ; what they heard confirmed, instead 
 of shaking, the justice of the conviction, and the 
 bootless investigation was given up. 
 
 But the Idnd of work in which he was thus engaged 
 was not the great work in which his fame was to be 
 gained, or his use in his generation manifested. In all 
 that is told of him he appears in the shade — only sup- 
 plementing the works of another ; and it is amusing 
 to observe, even at this long distance of time, that the 
 ancient office-bearers of St. John’s, once Dr. Chalmers’s 
 prime ministers in the government of that, his king- 
 dom, can scarcely yet forbear a certain patronising 
 regard towards Dr. Chalmers’s helper. They all went 
 to hear him, like virtuous men, who set a good ex- 
 ample to the flock, and tolerated the inexperience of 
 
IRVING PATRONIZED BY THE OFFICE-BEARERS. 125 
 
 tlie strange probationer ; and sat out, with a certain 
 self-complacence, those sermons which were to stir 
 to its depths a wider world than that of Glasgow. 
 One here and there even detected a suspicion of un- 
 soundness in the vehement addresses of the young 
 preacher ; and I have been told of a most singular, 
 unorthodox sentiment of his — unorthodox, but at exact 
 antipodes from later sentiments equally unlawful 
 — which one zealous hearer noted down in those 
 old days, and submitted to Dr. Chalmers as a mat- 
 ter which should be noticed. Wise Chalmers only 
 smiled, and shook his head. He himself had but an 
 imperfect understanding of his assistant; but he was 
 not to be persuaded by the evidence of one stray sen- 
 tence that his brother had gone astray. 
 
 Thus Irving hved, 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, 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 academical costume, 
 recognised, with the intuition of youth, the high elo- 
 quence flashing over those slumbrous heads. But on 
 the whole, the Glasgow congregation sat patronisingly 
 quiet, and hstened, without much remarking what the 
 “ helper had to say.” As much as the ordinary brain 
 could bear, they had already heard, or were to hear 
 the same day from “ the Doctor himsel’.” Under such 
 circumstances it was scarcely to be expected that they 
 could do more than listen calmly to the addresses of 
 
1‘26 
 
 IN THE SHADE. 
 
 the other preacher, whose manner, and looks, and mode 
 of address were all undoubtedly exceptional, and sub- 
 ject 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. Lwing ; 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 incompre- 
 hensible event. The profound unconsciousness in which 
 this strange little community, all dominated and 
 governed by their leader and his great project, held 
 + lightly the other great intelhgence in the midst of 
 them, is as strange a picture of human nature as 
 could be seen. It reminds one of that subtle law 
 of evidence which Sir Walter Scott introduces so 
 dramatically in accounting for the recognition of his 
 hero Bertram, in Guy Mannering^ by the postilion, who 
 had seen him without an idea of recognising him before. 
 “ Wliawas 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 pecuharities. 
 But who was thinking of genius or extraordinary en- 
 dowments in Dr. Chalmers’s helper ? Their eyes had 
 not been directed to him ; they saw him always in the 
 
HIS LOYALTY AND ADMIRATION. 
 
 127 
 
 shade, carrying out another man’s ideas, and dominated 
 by another man’s superior influence; and this most 
 natural and prevaihng principle of human thought 
 kept Irving obscure and unrevealed to their eyes. 
 
 The same influence gradually wrought upon himself. 
 
 It is apparent that there was much in his Glasgow life 
 which he enjoyed, and which suited him; and no 
 more loyal expression of regard for a master and leader 
 was ever written than the dedication afterwards ad- , 
 dressed to Dr. Chalmers, m 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 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 afiection to the man with whom 
 I was associated.” To the same tenor is the tone of his 
 farewell sermon, the first production which he ever 
 gave to the press, and in which, not without much stren- 
 uous argument for the freed om _of individual preaching, ^ 
 his favourite and oft-repeated theme, he acknowledges 
 “ the burden of my obligations 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 afiection which kindness always produced in him, 
 and the warm impulse of his nature casting all draw- 
 backs behind, “ the fellowship of a man mighty in his 
 Church, an approving congregation of his people, the 
 attachment of a populous corner of his vineyard. I 
 ask no more of heaven for the future but to grant me 
 
128 
 
 THE BKIGHT SIDE. 
 
 the continuance 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 
 consociated, 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 sohcited 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 stumble and 
 choke over because he was aware of having on another 
 occasion expressed, with equal warmth, another phase 
 of feehng, equally sincere, though apparently inconsis- 
 tent. That he should have been content with the posi- 
 tion which he describes in such glowing colours would 
 have been simply unnatural. 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 
 
THE DARK SIDE. 
 
 129 
 
 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 
 gradually becoming impossible to Irving. At the very 
 moment when he recognised with generous enthusiasm 
 the advantages of his position, he felt its limits and con- 
 finements like a chain of iron round his neck. The 
 bondage, though these were the most desirable of 
 bonds, was gradually growing intolerable. He was a 
 man fully equipped and prepared, aware of a longer pro- 
 bation, a sterner prelude, a harder training than most 
 men. We will not venture to say that tlie 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 mvitation 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 God 
 has ordained to every man.^ And failing that, his 
 ancient missionary thoughts returned to his mind ; I can- 
 not help thinking that there is something wonderfully 
 j pathetic and touching in this project, which he carried 
 so far upon the way of life with him, and to which up 
 to this moment he always recurred when his path 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 K 
 
130 
 
 MISSIONARY PROJECTS RENEWED. 
 
 became dark or impracticable. I could fancy it a sug- 
 gestion 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 in his 
 independent way than when, full of hopes, he had come 
 there to open his mouth in his Master’s service. Dr. 
 Chalmers could get many assistants, but Edward Irving 
 could get but one fife, and was this ail it was destined 
 to come to ? Again he saw himself going forth for- 
 lorn, 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. Wlien he grasped that cross the roses and lau- 
 rels would fade out of his expectation for ever. Love 
 and fame must both be left behind. It was in him to 
 leave 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 pas- 
 toral 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 re- 
 duced to great and almost hopeless straits. But faith hopeth 
 against hope, and when it does so, never faileth to be re- 
 warded. This was proved in the case of those two men whose 
 
THE CALEDONIAN CHAPEL, HATTON GARDEN. 
 
 131 
 
 names I have singled out from your number, to give them 
 that honour to which they are entitled in the face of the con- 
 gregation. Having heard through a friend of theirs, and 
 now also of mine, but at that time unknown to me, of my 
 unworthy labours in Grlasgow, as assistant to the Eev. Dr. 
 Chalmers, they commissioned him to speak to me concerning 
 their vacant church, and not to hide from me its present 
 distress. 
 
 Well do I remember the morning when, as I sat in my 
 lonely apartment, meditating the uncertainties of a preacher’s 
 calling, and revolving in my mind purposes of missionary 
 work, this stranger stepped in upon my musing, and opened 
 to me the commission with which he had been charged. The 
 answer which I made to him, with which also I opened my 
 correspondence with the brethren, whose names are men- 
 tioned above, was to this effect : ‘ If the times permitted, 
 and your necessities required that I should not only preach 
 the gospel without being 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.’ And such as the beginning was, was also the 
 continuance and ending of this negotiation. . . . Being in such 
 a spirit towards one another, the preliminaries were soon 
 arranged — indeed I may say needed no arrangement — and I 
 came up on the day before the Christmas of 1821, to make 
 trial and proof of my gifts before the remnant of the congre- 
 gation which still held together.” * 
 
 Ere, however, going to London, he seems to have 
 made a brief visit to Edinburgh, where he obtained 
 from the Eev. Dr. Fleming, one of the most highly 
 esteemed Evangelical ministers there, a letter of in- 
 troduction to Dr. Waugh, of London, which I have 
 
 * Dedication of the Last Days to W. Dinwiddle, Esq., Father 
 of the Session of the National Scotch Church ; W. Hamilton, Esq., 
 Secretary of the Committee for building the National Scotch Church ; 
 and to the other members of the Session and Committee. 
 
132 
 
 LETTER OF RECOMMENDATION. 
 
 found among other papers relating to Ms removal to 
 London. These credentials were as follows : — 
 
 “ Edinburgh, 13th December, 1821. 
 
 Dear Sir, — Allow me to introduce to you Mr. Edward 
 Irving, preacher of the gospel, who goes to London on invi- 
 tation to preach in the Caledonian Chapel, with the view of 
 being called to take the pastoral charge of the congregation 
 assembling in that place. I need not tell you what you will 
 at once perceive, that he is a large raw-boned Scotchman, 
 and that his outward appearance is rather uncouth ; but I can 
 tell you that his mind is, in proportion, as large as his body ; 
 and that whatever is unprepossessing in his appearance will 
 vanish as soon as ’ he is known ; his mind is, I had almost 
 said, gigantic. There is scarcely a branch of human science 
 which he does not grasp, and in some degree make his own. 
 As a scholar, and as a man of science, he is eminently distin- 
 guished. His great talents he has applied successfully to the 
 acquisition of professional knowledge, and both his talents 
 and acquisitions he is, I believe, sincerely resolved to conse- 
 crate to the service of his great Master. His views of Scrip- 
 ture truth, while they are comprehensive, are, in my judg- 
 ment, sound. His exhibition of them, indeed, I thought at 
 one time exceptionable, as too refined and abstract for ordi- 
 nary hearers ; but that was when he contemplated the duties 
 of a preacher as a spectator, being ordinarily occupied with 
 other important avocations. For some time past, however, 
 he has been actively employed in the vineyard, in the charac- 
 ter of assistant to Dr. Chalmers, of Griasgow, and it is no small 
 commendation that the Doctor is in the highest degree 
 pleased with him and attracted to him. His connection with 
 the Doctor has probably accelerated what experience would 
 have in time produced in a man of his mind and principles : 
 it has brought him down to the level of plain, sound preach- 
 ing. This effect has been still further promoted in the 
 exercise of a duty which he has had to perform, visiting the 
 families of the parish, and conversing with them about their 
 spiritual interests. This was a duty in which he engaged 
 with great zeal ; and he is considered as possessing a particu- 
 
FAVOURABLE PROGNOSTICATIONS. 
 
 133 
 
 lar faculty for performing it. As a man, he is honourable, 
 liberal, independent in bis mind, fearless in the discharge of 
 bis duties, and exemplary in bis general deportment. In 
 short, taking into view bis whole character and qualifications, 
 bis talents, bis acquirements, bis principles, bis zeal, and bis 
 capacity of exertion, I know nobody who seems better fitted 
 for discharging the duties of a gospel minister in the metro- 
 polis, faithfully, usefully, and respectably, than Mr. Irving. 
 ... If you can be of any service to Mr. Irving, either with 
 the managers of the chapel, or in the event of bis remaining 
 in London, by introducing him to any of your friends in the 
 ministry, I shall esteem it a favour. . . . Mr. Irving has 
 come upon me unexpectedly, and I have barely time to add 
 that I am, with great regard, dear sir, yours faithfully, 
 
 ‘^Thomas Fleming.” 
 
 The kind elaboration of this old-fashioned reeom- 
 mendatory letter, written in days when people thought 
 it worth while to fill their paper, secured Irving a 
 friend ; and many of its carefully detailed particulars are 
 sadly amusing in the fight of all the after-revelations; 
 as, indeed, the calm unconsciousness with which an 
 ordinary man holds up his light to show forth the 
 figure of an Immortal has always a certain ludicrous- 
 pathetic element in it. Armed with this, and doubtless 
 with various others which have not escaped obhvion, 
 the “ large raw-boned Scotchman ” set out for London 
 with unconcealed and honest eagerness. Wliat he 
 wanted was not a benefice, or even an income, for 
 hopeless enough in that way were the prospects of the 
 httle fainting Scotch Church, buried amid the crowded 
 lanes about Holborn, which successive vacancies and 
 discouragements had reduced to the very lowest point* 
 I at which it could venture to call itself a congregation. 
 
 , If it had been practicable — if, as Irving himself says, 
 
134 
 
 IRVING’S DESIRE TO GO TO LONDON. 
 
 “ the times had permitted,” there cannot be the shghtest 
 doubt that the vehement young man would have been 
 content to conjoin any apostolic handicraft with his 
 spiritual office rather than resign that longed-for pulpit, 
 in which he could say forth unchecked the message that 
 was in him ; and he does not attempt with any affected 
 coyness to conceal his own eager desire for this, the 
 first independent standing-ground which was ever 
 placed fairly in his power. From the moment that he 
 heard of it, the idea seems to have taken full possession 
 of him. Nowhere else could he do such good service 
 to his Master’s cause. Nowhere could the human am- 
 bition which possessed him find readier satisfaction. 
 Nowhere else was the utterance with which he was 
 overbrimming so deeply needed. He seems to have felt 
 with magical suddenness and certainty that here was 
 his sphere. 
 
 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, ad- 
 dressed to his much regarded pupil and friend Miss 
 Welsh. 
 
 “ Glasgow, 34 Kent Street, 9tli February, 1822. 
 
 My dear and lovely Pupil, — When I am my own master, 
 delivered 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 
 jou, by the memory of our old acquaintance, and an 3 ^thing 
 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 
 
HIS PLEASURE IN HIS RECEPTION THERE. 
 
 135 
 
 worthy father. Forget and forgive it ; and let us be esta- 
 blished in our former correspondence as if no such sin against 
 it had ever taken place. I could say some things on my own 
 behalf ; but till you go to London, which I hope will not be 
 till I am there to be a brother to you, you could not at all 
 sympathise with them. 
 
 And know now, though late, that my head is almost turned 
 with the approbation I received — certainly my head is turned; 
 for from being a poor desolate creature, melancholy of suc- 
 cess, yet steel against misfortune, I have become all at once 
 full of hope and activity. My hours of study have doubled 
 themselves — my intellect, long unused to expand itself, is 
 now awakening again, and truth is revealing itself to my mind. ■<- 
 And perhaps the dreams and longings of my fair corre- 
 spondent* may yet be realised. I have been solicited to 
 publish a discourse which I delivered before his Eoyal High- 
 ness the Duke of York ; but have refused till my appre- 
 hensions of truth be larger, and my treatment of it more 
 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 Eoyal High- 
 ness. The elders paid my expenses in a most princely style. 
 
 My countrymen of the first celebrity, especially in art, 
 welcomed me to their society, and the first artist in the city 
 drew a most admirable half-length miniature of me inaction. 
 
 And so, you see, I have reason to be vain. 
 
 “ But these things, my dear Jane, delight me not, save as 
 vouchsafements of my Maker’s bounty, the greater because . 
 the more undeserved. Were I established in the love and 
 obedience of Him, I should rise toweringly aloft into the re- 
 gions of a very noble and sublime character, and so would 
 my highly-gifted pupil, to retain whose friendship shall be a 
 consolation to my life : to have her fellowship in divine am- 
 bitions would make her my dear companion through eternity. 
 
 “To your affectionate mother, whose indulgence gives me 
 this pleasant communication with her daughter, I have to ex- 
 press my attachment in every letter. May you live worthy 
 
 * He refers to his young friend’s affectionate prophecies of his 
 future fame. 
 
136 
 
 OBSTACLES. 
 
 of each other, mutual stays through life, doubly endeared, 
 because alone together; and therefore doubly dutiful to 
 Him who is the husband of the widow, and the Father of the 
 fatherless. I have sent this under cover to my friend T. C., 
 not knowing well where you are at present. If in Edinburgh, 
 offer 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, 
 
 Edwakd 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 al- 
 together our desire and our purpose of being united 
 in one. Amongst others, one, which would have 
 deterred many men, was my inabihty to preach in 
 the Gaelic tongue, of which I knew not a word.” 
 This absurd stipulation originated in the connection 
 of the Caledonian Chapel with the Caledonian Asy- 
 lum, the directors of which are those whom he 
 records as having thanked him formally — an insti- 
 tution originally intended for the orphan children of 
 soldiers and sailors, and of whose office-bearers the 
 Duke of York, the Commander-in-Chief, was president. 
 This institution is still in existence, and until the dis- 
 ruption of the Church of Scotland, still sent its detach- 
 ments of children into the galleries of tlie 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 
 
THE CALEDONIAN ASYLUM. 
 
 137 
 
 importance. Other Scotch Churches, more flourishing 
 and prosperaus, were in existence; but the chapel in 
 Hatton Garden had a trifling parliamentary allowance, 
 in dmect consideration of its connection with the Asylum, 
 and the minister’s powers of preaching Gaelic. This 
 initial difficulty called forth from Irving the following 
 characteristic letter : — 
 
 “To my honoured friends, Mr. Dinwiddle, Mr. Simpson, 
 Mr. Eobertson, 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. 
 
 “ First. Let my interest be as nothing. The Lord will pro- 
 vide for me ; and since I left you His providence has presented 
 me with the offer of a chapel of ease in Dundee, with the 
 probable reversion of the first vacant living in the place. 
 This, of course, I refused. The people of New York are 
 inquiring for me to succeed the great Dr. Mason — at least are 
 VTiting 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 
 religion in general, and the Scotch Church in particular, you 
 do still desire my services among you, then I am ready at 
 any call, and almost on any conditions, for my own spirit is 
 bent to preach the Gospel in London. 
 
 “Thirdly. If the gentlemen of the Asylum' would not mistake 
 for importunity and seeking of a place, what I offer from a 
 desire to mediate peace, and benefit the best interests of my 
 
138 
 
 PLEDGES HIMSELF TO LEAEN GAELIC. 
 
 countrymen, I pledge myself to study Graelic ; 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 con- 
 descension 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 difficult to persuade 
 to come amongst you ; and I shall not distress your means ; 
 but, content with little, minister, in humble dependence upon 
 Grod, the free grace of the Grospel. 
 
 “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 
 
 “ Your obliged and affectionate friend, 
 
 “Edward Irving. 
 
 “Glasgow, 21st February, 1822.” 
 
 The Directors of the Caledonian Asylum were not, 
 however, “ so far left to themselves,” as we say in Scot- 
 land, as to insist upon the six months of Gaehc study 
 thus heroically volunteered. The Duke of York ex- 
 erted his influence to set aside the stipulation ; and 
 after it had answered its purpose in sthnulating the 
 warmth of both parties, and adding a httle more 
 suspense^ and uncertainty to Irving’s long probation, 
 the difficulty was overcome. Or rather, to use his 
 own words, ‘‘ God, having proved our willingness, was 
 pleased to remove this obstacle out of the way.” Upon 
 thi^ another difficulty arose. It is a rule of the Church 
 
BOND REQUIRED BY THE PRESBYTERY. 
 
 139 
 
 of Scotland not to ordain any minister over a congre- 
 gation until they are first certified that the people are 
 able and prepared to provide him with a fit income — 
 “ to give him a hvelihood,” 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 httle handful at Hatton Garden, who had only 
 been able to keep themselves together by great exer- 
 tions, and to whom only the valuable but scanty nucleus 
 of fifty adherents belonged. The Presbytery in conse- 
 quence demurred to the ordination ; and once more the 
 matter came to a temporary standstill. The foUomng 
 letter, addressed to Mr. WiUiam Hamilton, one of the 
 principal members of the Caledonian Chapel, will show 
 how Irving regarded this new obstruction: — 
 
 My dear Sir, — Though I received so many and so kind 
 attentions from you in London, the great diversity of my 
 occupations, and my frequent visits of late to different parts 
 of the country, in the prospect of removal, have hindered me 
 from ever presenting my acknowledgments, not the less felt, 
 be assured, on that account. The confidence and frequency 
 of our intercourse makes me assured, when I come to London, 
 that we shall find in each other steady friends ; and it is de- 
 lightful in the prospect opening up, that I have such friends 
 to come to. The bearer is my brother-in-law, Mr. Warren 
 Carlyle, a young man of most admirable character, both 
 moral and religious. He is in London on business, and will 
 be able to inform you in all my affairs. I am doing my 
 utmost to get the Presbytery to consent to my ordination 
 without a bond, and I hope to succeed. But if they will not, 
 I come in June, ordination or no ordination ; and if they are 
 not content with the security I am content with, then I shall 
 be content to do without their ordination and seek it else- 
 
140 
 
 VISITS TO PAISLEY. 
 
 where, or apply for it after. But I augur better Mr. 
 
 Dinwiddle must not consider me wanting in affection that it is 
 so long since I wrote to him personally ; assure him and all his 
 family, I pray, of my gratitude and high regards, which 
 
 many years, I trust, will enable me to testify May 
 
 all good be with you, and my other acquaintances ; and may 
 I be enabled, when I come among you, to do more than fulfil 
 all your expectations, — till which happy junction may we be 
 preserved in the grace of the Lord. 
 
 Yours most affectionately, 
 
 Edwakd Irving. 
 
 “ Paisley, 24th April, 1822.” 
 
 To Paisley, from which this letter is dated, Irving 
 was in the habit of walking out on Saturday afternoons, 
 to snatch a little domestic relaxation at the tea-table of 
 the family into which his sister had married ; and had 
 a hberal habit of inviting chance fellow-traveUers whom 
 he encountered by the way to accompanj^ him, occa- 
 sionally to the considerable confusion and amazement 
 of his kind hosts. On one of these occasions he intro- 
 duced a stranger of shy and somewhat gruff demeanour, 
 who spoke httle, whose name nobody heard distinctly, 
 and whom the good people set down as some chance 
 pedestrian, a httle out of his ease in “ good society,” 
 whom Irving had picked up on the way. They were 
 not undeceived until years after, when a member of the 
 family, then in London, had one of the greatest of living 
 authors, Thomas Carlyle, reverentially pointed out to 
 her, and recognised, with horror and astonishment, the 
 doubtful stranger whom she had entertained and smiled 
 at in her father’s house. 
 
 The “ bond,” however, which Irving, generous and 
 impetuous, would have been well content to dispense 
 
REMOVAL OF OBSTACLES. 
 
 141 
 
 with, but which the prudent Presbytery insisted upon, 
 was at length procured. “Another obstacle to my 
 ordination your readiness,” says Irving in the dedi- 
 cation already quoted, “ without any request of mine, 
 removed out of the way. To those brethren who came 
 forward so voluntarily and so liberally on that occasion, 
 the church and the minister of the church are much 
 beholden ; and all of us are beholden to God, who 
 useth us, in any way, however humble, for the accom- 
 phshment of his good purposes.” 
 
 Everything was now settled, and only the necessary 
 ecclesiastical preliminaries remained. The young man 
 was at the highest pitch of hope and anticipation. As 
 he had not concealed his eagerness to go, he did not 
 conceal the high expectations with which he entered 
 the longed-for field. Expressions of his hopes and 
 projects burst forth wherever he went — misconstrued, 
 of course, by many ; received with cold wonder, and 
 treated as boasts and braggadocio ; but understood and 
 beheved by some. And the only evidence of other 
 sentiments which appears in his correspondence — con- 
 tained 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 to the world, and but a very 
 few,” writes the young man in this efiiision of moment- 
 ary weariness ; “ one is to make a demonstration for a 
 higher style of Christianity, something more magnani- 
 mous, more^heroical than this age affects. God knoAvs 
 Avdth Avhat success.” These wonderful prophetic words, 
 written in some moment of revulsion, when the very 
 height of satisfaction and triumph had brought a sud- 
 
142 
 
 KOSNEATH. 
 
 den depth of temporary depression to his sensitive soul, 
 are the only visible trace of those clouds which can 
 never be wholly banished from the brightest firmament. 
 During the last week of his residence in Glasgow, he 
 went to Eosneath 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. 
 Ho more limits except those of the truth, nor obliteration 
 ^ under another man’s shadow. AU 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 httle 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 Eosneath 
 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, 
 
HAPPY ANTICIPATIONS. 
 
 143 
 
 ‘ Dear me, Irving, I did not think you had been so 
 classical ; ’ another time you heard me preach, ‘ Dear 
 me, Irving, I did not know you had so much imagina- 
 tion.’ Now you shall see what great things I will do 
 yet!” 
 
 In this state of exulting expectation, he was not 
 more patient than usual of the ordinary orthodoxy 
 round him. While himself the sincerest son of his 
 mother Church, and loving her very standards with a 
 love which never died out of him, he was always in- 
 tolerant of the common stock of dry 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 swelling waters of the Gair-loch ; “ but as for me, 
 
 I hope yet to go deep into the ocean of truth.” 
 Words over-bold and incautious, like most of his words; 
 yet wonderfully characteristic of the unconcealed ex- 
 altation of mind and hope in which he was. 
 
 So he returned to Glasgow, still accompanied by the 
 alarmed and anxious friend, who could get no satisfac- 
 tion about his farewell sermon, — such an occurrence 
 as this solemn leave-taking, to which the 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 dehverance from the ordinary 
 restraints of the pulpit. And it was, perhaps, the first 
 opportunity which Irving had ever had, with all 
 eyes concentrated on himself, to communicate his 
 thoughts ^vithout risk of the inevitable comparison, or 
 the jealousy equally inevitable, of those who resented 
 
144 
 
 FAREWELL SERMON. 
 
 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 glowing 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 hfe of two 
 years, seen in the warm reviving hght of farevrell kind- 
 ness. 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 ful- 
 ness which distressed and overwhelmed that sober 
 Scotsman, unaccustomed to and disapproving of such 
 demonstrations of attachment. Even upon that un- 
 enthusiastic and pre-occupied audience, this farewell 
 address seems to have made an impression. He left 
 them at peace with all men ; and forgetting, as his 
 affectionate temperament had a faculty for forgetting, 
 all his annoyances and discomforts there. This farewell 
 took away every possibility of bitterness. They were 
 all his friends whom he left behind. He gave a wide. 
 
OFFERS HIS SERVICES IN LONDON TO ALL. 
 
 145 
 
 but warm, universal invitation to all. His 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 S 
 the people instinctively understood that he did so. It 
 was thus with the warmest effusion of good-wih that he 
 left Glasgow, where, as in every other place, there was 
 no lack of people who smiled at him, were doubtful 
 of him, and patronised him with amusing toleration ; 
 but where nobody now or then had an unkind word 
 to say. 
 
 When the farewell was over, and the sermon had 
 met with its award, that good, puzzled companion, who 
 went with the incomprehensible preacher to Eosneath, 
 confided all his doubts and troubles on this subject to 
 the private ear of a sympathising friend. “ Such a 
 sermon would have taken me a week to write ! ” said ^ 
 this bewildered worthy. Possibly a lifetime would 
 have been too short for such a feat, had the good man 
 but known. 
 
 Immediately after this leave-taking Irving proceeded 
 to Annan, to his 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. 
 
 The breathing-time which he had there, as well as the 
 hopes and interests which pleasantly agitated it, are 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
146 
 
 RECEIVES A FAREWELL PRESENT. 
 
 described in a letter addressed to his friend and fre- 
 quent correspondent, Mr. David Hope. 
 
 “ Annan, 28th May, 1822. 
 
 I am snugly seated in this Temple of Indolence, and very 
 loath to be invaded by any of the distractions of the busy 
 city. I would fain devote myself to the enjoyment of our 
 home and family, and to meditate from a distance the busy 
 scene I have left, and the more busy scene to which I am 
 bound. My mind seems formed for inactivity. I can saunter 
 the whole day from field to field, riding on impressions and 
 the transient thoughts they awaken, with no companion of 
 books or men, saving, perhaps, a little nephew or niece in my 
 hand. 
 
 You may from this conceive how little disposed I am to 
 take any task in hand of any kind; and I had almost resolved 
 to refuse flatly the flattering requests of my friends to publish 
 that poor discourse ; but yesterday there came such a letter 
 from Mr. Collins, full of argument and the kindest encourage- 
 ment, that I have resolved to comply, and shall signify my 
 resolution to him by this post. 
 
 “ For the other matter, it gives me the most exquisite delight 
 to think my friends remember me with attachment. That 
 they are about to show it by some testimonial I should per- 
 haps not have known till I received it. It is not my part to 
 make a choice ; but if I were to think of anything, it would 
 be that very thing which you mention. But of this say 
 nothing as coming from me.” 
 
 The matter here referred to was a present which 
 some members of St. John’s church were desirous of 
 making him. It was decided that it should be a watch ; 
 and I have been told, without, however, being able to 
 vouch for the entire authenticity of the story, that when 
 the matter was entirely decided upon, and the money 
 in hand, Irving was consulted to know whether he had 
 any particular fancy or liking in the matter. He had 
 
THE ANNANDALE WATCHMAKER. 
 
 147 
 
 one, and that was characteristic. He requested that it 
 should be provided by a certain watchmaker, whose 
 distinguishing quahty was not that he was skilful in his 
 trade, but that he was an Annandale man. The good 
 Glasgow donors yielded to this recommendation ; and 
 Irving had the double dehght of receiving a very 
 substantial proof of his friends’ attachment, and of 
 throwing a valuable piece of work in the way of his 
 countryman. Whether the watch itself was the better 
 for the arrangement tradition does not teU. 
 
 While the prospect of this tribute, or rather of the 
 affection which it displayed, gave him, as he says, 
 in the fulness of his heart, “ exquisite dehght,” the pub- 
 hcation of his sermon was also going on. But the dis- 
 course, in which Irving had poured out all the generous 
 exuberance of his feehngs, feU into dangerous hands 
 before it reached the public. IMrs. Chalmers laid 
 hold upon the offending manuscript ; and without 
 either the consent or knowledge of the writer, cut 
 down its panegyric into more moderate dimensions, 
 — a proceeding which the luckless author, when he 
 came to know of it, resented deeply, as I suspect most 
 authors would be disposed to do. “Eeturning some 
 months afterwards to Glasgow,” says Dr. Hanna, in his 
 Life of Dr. Chahners., “ his printed sermon was handed 
 to Mr. Irving, who, on looking over it, broke out into 
 expressions of astonishment and indignation at the 
 hberties which had been taken with his production, — 
 expressions which would have been more measured 
 had he known who the culprit was.” Such a meddling 
 with his first publication was enough to try the temper 
 of the meekest of men. 
 
148 
 
 A “SINGULAE HONOUR.” 
 
 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 ihe importance given to the half-yearly occa- 
 sion^ the “ sacramental season ” of Scotch piety, sepa- 
 rated as it is, by long array of devotional services, from 
 the ordinary course of the year) — of a Scottish com- 
 munion. Irving himself describes this as “ having 
 experienced 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 conclusion to his residence in Glasgow. 
 From thence he set out, amid honour and good wishes, 
 with the highest hopes in his mind, and charity in his 
 heart, on the morning of the 8th of July, 1822, to 
 London. The future seems to have glowed before him 
 with all the indefinite brightness of early youth. Cer- 
 tainly that little chapel in London, in those drear wastes 
 about Holborn, far out of hearing of the great world 
 as might have been supposed, with fifty undistinguished 
 members, to their own knowing strenuous Scotch 
 churchmen, but so far as the great indifierent com- 
 munity about them was concerned, lost in the crowd of 
 Dissenting chapels — nameless and unknown places of 
 worship — had little in itself to lift the anticipations of 
 its minister to any superlative height ; nor did he carry 
 with him any comforting consciousness of success ; 
 unflattered, undeceived, fully aware and never scruphng 
 to confess that his preaching had hitherto, except in 
 individual cases, been little more than tolerated, it might 
 have been supposed a very homely and sombre per- 
 
GOES TO LONDON. 
 
 149 
 
 spective which opened before this young man. So far 
 as actual reahties were concerned, it was so ; but the 
 instinct of his heart contradicted reahty, and showed, in 
 wonderful indefinite vision, some great thing that was to 
 come. He calls himself “ a man unknown, despised, and 
 almost outcast ; — a man spoken against, suspected, and 
 avoided ; ” yet, withal, proceeds to his obscure corner of 
 that great wilderness of men, in which so many men, 
 greater than he could pretend to be, had been swallowed 
 up and lost, with a certain ineffable expectation about 
 him which it is impossible to describe, but which 
 shmes through every word and action. He did not 
 foresee how it was to come ; he could not have pro- 
 phesied that all London would stir to the echoes of his 
 voice. All that memorable tragic life that lay solemnly 
 waiting for him among the multitudinous roofs was hid 
 in the haze of an illumination which never takes visible 
 shape or form. But Nature, prevoyant, tingled into 
 his heart an inarticulate thrill of prophecy. He 
 went forth joyfully, wittingly, aware of all the hazards 
 of that battle, mto the deepest of the fight — amid all 
 the exaltation of his hopes, never without a touch of 
 forlorn dignity, acknowledged without any bitterness, 
 the consciousness of a man who, however he might 
 triumph hereafter, had known many a defeat already. 
 Thus Irving went out of his youth and obscurity, out 
 of trials and* probation not often exceeded, to the 
 solemn field full of fights 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. 
 
150 
 
 CHAPTEE m 
 
 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 in- 
 creasing his estimation and social sphere. Sir David 
 Wilkie records his belief that the new preacher had 
 introductions only to himself 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 not be 
 entirely correct, yet it is evident that he went with few 
 recommendations, save to the little Scotch community 
 amidst which, as people supposed, he was to live and 
 
FIEST APPEARANCE. 
 
 151 
 
 labour. There are stories extant among that community 
 still, concerning 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 
 quahties in the new minister, and mutual congratula- 
 tions over a single adherent gained. Attracted by the 
 enthusiastic admiration expressed by a painter almost 
 unknown to fame, of the noble head and bearing of 
 the new comer, another painter was induced to enter 
 the little chapel where the stranger preached his first 
 sermon. When the devotional services were over, 
 — beginning with the Psalm, read out from the pulpit, 
 in a voice so splendid and melodious that the harsh 
 metres took back their original rhythm, and those verses 
 so dear to Scotsmen justified their influence even to 
 more fastidious ears, — the preacher stood up, and read 
 as the text of 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 in- 
 tent you have sent for me ? ” The sermon has not been 
 preserved, so far as I am aware ; but the text — remem- 
 bered as almost all Irving’s texts are remembered — 
 conveys all the picturesque 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 gradual degrees the little chapel began to fiU. 
 So far as appears, there was nobody of the least distinc- 
 tion connected with the place ; and it is hard to 
 
152 
 
 SATISFACTION WITH HIS NEW SPHERE. 
 
 understand how the great world came so much as to 
 hear of the existence of the new popularity. This 
 quiet period, full of deep hopes and pleasant progress, 
 but as yet with none of the high excitement of after 
 days, Irving himself describes in the following letter to 
 his friend, Mr. Graham, of Burnswark : — 
 
 London, 19 Gloucester Street, Queen Square, 
 
 “ Bloomsbury, 5th August, 1822. 
 
 My very dear Friend, — I have not forgot you, and if I 
 Mushed to forget you I could not, sealed as you are in the midst 
 of my affections, and associated with so many recollections of 
 worth and of enjoyment. You always undervalued yourself, 
 and often made me angry by your remarks upon the nature 
 of our friendship, counting me to gain nothing ; whereas I 
 seemed always in your company to be delivered into those 
 happy and healthy states of mind which are in themselves an 
 exquisite reward. To say nothing of your bounty, which 
 shone through all the cloud of misfortune ; to say nothing of 
 your tender interest in my future, my friends, my thoughts ; 
 and your sleepless endeavour to promote and serve them — I 
 hold your own manly, benignant, and delicate mind to be a 
 sufficient recommendation of you to men of a character and a 
 genius I have no pretensions to. So in our future corre- 
 spondence be it known to you that we feel and express our- 
 selves as equals, and bring forth our thoughts with the same 
 liberty in which we were wont to express them — which is the 
 soul of all pleasant correspondence. 
 
 “You cannot conceive how happy I am here in the possession 
 of my own thoughts, in the liberty of my own conduct, and 
 in the favour of the Lord. The people have received me 
 with open arms ; the church is already regularly filled ; my 
 preaching, though of the average of an hour and a quarter, 
 listened to with the most serious attention. My mind plenti- 
 fully endowed with thought and feeling — my life ordered, as 
 God enables me after his holy Word — my store supplied out 
 of His abundant liberality. These are the elements of my 
 happiness, for which I am bound to render unmeasured 
 
HIS THOUGHTS AND HOPES. 
 
 153 
 
 thanks. Would all my friends were as mercifully dealt with, 
 and mine enemies too. 
 
 You have much reason for thankfulness that Giod, in the 
 time of your sore trials, sustained your honour and your 
 trust in Himself ; nay, rather made you trust in Him the more 
 He smote you. His time of delivery will come at leugth, 
 when you shall taste as formerly His goodness, and enjoy it 
 with a chastened joy, which you had not known if you had 
 never been afflicted : persevere, my dear friend, in the ways 
 of godliness and of duty, until the grace of Grod, which grows 
 in you, come to a full and perfect stature. 
 
 ‘‘For my thoughts, in which you were wont to take such 
 interest, they have of late turned almost entirely inward upon 
 myself ; and I am beginning dimly to discover what a mighty 
 change I have yet to undergo before I be satisfied with my- 
 self. I see how much of my mind’s very limited powers have 
 been wasted upon thoughts of vanity and pride ; how little 
 devoted to the study of truth and excellency upon their own 
 account. As I advance in this self-examination, I see farther, 
 until, in short, this life seems already consumed in endeavours 
 after excellence, and nothing attained ; and I long after the 
 world where we shall know as we are known, and be free to 
 follow the course we approve, with an unimpeded foot. At 
 the same time I see a life full of usefulness, and from my 
 fellow-creatures, full of glory, which I regard not ; and of all 
 places this is the place for one of my spirit to dwell in. Here 
 there are no limitations to my mind’s highest powers ; here, 
 whatever schemes are worthy may have audience and exami- 
 nation ; here, self-denial may have her perfect work in midst 
 of pleasures, follies, and thriftless employments of one’s time 
 and energies. Oh, that Grod would keep me, refine me, and 
 make me an example to this generation of what His grace can 
 produce upon one of the worst of His children I 
 
 “ I have got three very good, rather elegant apartments,— 
 a sitting-room, a bed-room, and dressing-room : and when 
 George * comes up, I have one of the attics for his sleeping 
 
 * His younger, and then only surviving brother, of whom and of 
 whose education he seems from this time to have taken the entire 
 burden. 
 
154 
 
 OUTSET IN LIFE. 
 
 apartment. My landlady, as usual, a very worthy woman, 
 and likely to be well content with her lodger. George comes 
 up when the classes sit do wm, and in the meantime is busy in 
 Dr. Irving’s shop. This part of the town is very airy and 
 healthy, close to Eussell Square, and not far from the church, 
 and in the midst of my friends. My studies begin after 
 breakfast, and continue without interruption till dinner ; and 
 the product, as might be expected, is of a far superior order 
 to what you were pleased to admire in St. John’s.” 
 
 This letter, after salutations as particular and de- 
 tailed as in an apostolical epistle, ends with the in- 
 junction to “ tell me a deal about Annandale, Sandy 
 Come, and all worthy men.” His correspondent, hke 
 himself, was an Annandale man, a Glasgow merchant, 
 with a httle patrimony upon the side of one of those 
 pastoral hiUs which overlook from a distance Irving’s 
 native town, where George, a young medical student, 
 was busy among the drugs in the country doctor’s 
 shop ; amid all the exultation of his hopes, as well as 
 in the fuUest tide of success, his heart was always warm 
 to this “ countryside.” 
 
 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 “introducing,” according to Presbyterian 
 uses and phraseology, though in this case somewhat 
 after date, the young minister to his charge. This 
 simple ceremony, which is entirely one of custom, 
 and not of rule, is generally performed by the most 
 prized friend of the new preacher — who simply 
 officiates for him, and in his sermon takes the oppor- 
 tunity of recommending, in such terms as his friendship 
 suggests, the young pastor to the love and esteem of 
 
CHALMERS IN LONDON. 
 
 155 
 
 his people. Nobody could be better qualified to do 
 this than Irving’s master in their common profession ; 
 and it is creditable to both parties to note how they 
 mutually sought each other’s assistance at such eventful 
 moments of their life. Dr. Chalmers writes to his 
 wife on arriving in London that he found Irving “ in 
 good taking with his charge. He speculates as much 
 as before on the modes of preaching; is quite inde- 
 pendent with his own people, and has most favourably 
 impressed such men as Zachary Macaulay and Mr. 
 Cunningham with the conception of his talents. He is 
 happy and free, and withal making his way to good 
 acceptance and a very good congregation.” Such, as 
 yet, was the modest extent of aU prognostications in 
 his favour. The good Doctor goes on to relate how 
 he was delighted to find that Irving had been asked to 
 dine with him in the house of a Bloomsbury M.P. ; 
 evidently rejoicing in this opening of good society to 
 his friend and disciple. The two returned together to 
 Irving’s 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 im- 
 prudent hberality of Irving’s farewell invitation to the 
 entire congregation of St. John’s. About the same 
 time, to select one instance out of many, a poor man 
 came to him seeking a situation, “a very genteel, 
 
156 
 
 APPEALS TO IKVING’S SYMPATHY. 
 
 respectable-looking young man,” says the compassionate 
 preacher, who refers him, in a letter full of beseeching 
 sympathy, to his universal assistant and resource in all 
 troubles — the good Wilham Hamilton. Such peti- 
 tioners came in multitudes through all his after-hfe — 
 receiving sometimes hospitality, sometimes advice — 
 recommendations to other people more hkely to 
 help them — kindness always. Such troubles come 
 readily enough of themselves to the clergymen of a 
 popular church ; but the imprudence of inviting them 
 was 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 attendance upon Irving’s ministrations, 
 and was there, accompanied by Sir Thomas Lawrence, 
 to hear his still greater countryman. But the brilliant 
 crowd knew nothing yet of the other figure in that 
 pulpit ; and 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 aU, that he 
 is prospering in his new situation, and seems to feel as 
 if in that very station of command and congeniahty 
 whereunto you have long known him to aspire. I 
 hope that he will not hurt his usefulness by any kind 
 of eccentricity or imprudence.” In these odd and 
 characteristic words Dr. Chalmers, always a httle im- 
 patient and puzzled even in his kindest moments about 
 a man so undeniably eminent, yet so entirely unhke 
 
PEOGRESS IN POPULARITY. 
 
 157 
 
 liimself, dismisses Irving, and proceeds upon his sta- 
 tistical inquiries. 
 
 Meanwhile, in this station of ‘‘ command and con- 
 geniality,” as Chalmers so oddly terms it, Irving made 
 swift and steady way. Writing at a later period to his 
 congregation, he mentions a year as having passed 
 before the tide of popularity swelled upon them beyond 
 measure ; but this must have been a failure of memory, 
 for both the preacher and congregation were much 
 earher aware of the exceeding commotion and interest 
 awakening around them. He expresses his own con- 
 sciousness of this very simply in another letter to his 
 friend David Hope. 
 
 “19 Gloucester Street, Queen Square, 
 
 “ 5tli November, 1822. 
 
 “My deak Fkiend, — You have too good reason to complain of 
 me, and a thousand more of my Scottish friends ; but be not 
 too severe ; you shall yet find me in London the same true- 
 hearted fellow you knew me in Glasgow But I had 
 
 another reason for delaying ; I wished, when I did write, to be 
 able to recount to you an exact account of my success. Thank 
 God, it seems now beyond a doubt. The church overflows 
 every day, and they already begin to talk of a right good 
 Kirk, worthy of our mother and our native country. But 
 into these vain speculations I have little time to enter, being 
 engrossed with things strictly professional. You are not more 
 regular at the counting-house, nor, I am sure, sooner {Anglice 
 earlier), neither do you labour more industriously, till four 
 chaps from the Kam’s Horn Kirk *, than I sit in to this my 
 study, and occupy my mind for the benefit of my flock. The 
 evening brings more engagements mth it than I can over- 
 take, and so am I kept incessantly active. My engagements 
 have been increased, of late, by looking out for a house to 
 dwell in. I am resolved to be this Ishmaelite no longer, and 
 
 * One of the Glasgow chinches, popularly so called. 
 
158 “OUR SCOTTISH YOUTH.” 
 
 to have a station of my own upon the face of the earth. So 
 a new year will see me fixed in my own habitation, where 
 there will be ever welcome entertainment for him who was to 
 me for a brother at the time of my sojourning in Gilasgow. 
 When I look back upon those happy years, I could almost 
 wish to live them over again, in order to have anew the in- 
 stances I then received of true brotherly kindness from you 
 and so many of your townsmen. 
 
 “You would be overjoyed to hear the delight of our Scot- 
 tish youth, which they express to me, at being once more 
 gathered together into one, and the glow with which they 
 speak of their recovered habits. This is the beginning, I 
 trust, of good amongst them. So may the Lord grant in 
 His mercy and loving-kindness. 
 
 “Now I wish to know about yourself — how all your affairs 
 
 prosper I could speculate much upon the excellent 
 
 fruit season, and the wretched oil season; but you would 
 laugh at my ignorance. And there is something more valu- 
 able to be speculated upon. I do hope you prosper in the 
 one thing needful, under your most valuable pastor ; and also 
 my dear friend Gii’aham. Give my love to him, and say I 
 have not found time to answer his letter ; but if this thing 
 of settlement were off my mind, I should get into regular 
 ways. Do not punish me, but write me with all our news ; 
 and believe me, my dear David, 
 
 “Your most affectionate friend, 
 
 “ Edward Irving.” 
 
 The 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 unexpected circumstance led to hear the 
 new preacher, and heard Irving in his prayer de- 
 scribe an unknown family of orphans belonging 
 to the obscure congregation, as now “ thrown upon 
 
CANNING AND MACKINTOSH. 
 
 159 
 
 the fatherhood of God.” The words seized upon 
 the mind of the philosopher, and he repeated them to 
 Canning, who “started,” as Mackintosh relates, and, 
 expressing great admiration, made an instant engage- 
 ment to accompany his friend to the Scotch church 
 on the following Sunday. Shortly after, a dis- 
 cussion took place in the House of Commons, in 
 which the revenues of the Church were referred to, 
 and the necessary mercantile relation between high 
 talent and good|9ay insisted upon. No doubt it suited 
 the statesman’s purpose to instance, on the other side 
 of the question, the little Caledonian chapel and its 
 new preacher. Canning told the House that, so far 
 from universal was this rule, that he himself had lately 
 heard a Scotch minister, trained in one of the most 
 poorly endowed of churches, and estabhshed in one of 
 her outlying dependencies, possessed of no endowment 
 at all, preach the most eloquent sermon that he had ever 
 listened to. The curiosity awakened by this speech is 
 said to have been the first beginning of that 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 Sabbath 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 dehght to remember that 
 
160 
 
 HAPPY OBSCURITY. 
 
 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. Be- 
 sides 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 m one quarter to fifteen 
 hundred, and Irving’s own simple and gratified intima- 
 tion that “ the church overflows every day,” there is 
 very httle 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 pub- 
 lished only in 1835, after Irving’s death, and forming 
 the second volume of Irving's Life and Works — a 
 production evidently got up to catch the market at the 
 moment of his death — contains the only record re- 
 maining to us of his early eloquence. Nobody who 
 reads these sermons, imperfect as they must 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 occu- 
 pied by its own largely increased congregation. They 
 have, it is true, no factitious attractions, and genius, 
 all warm and eloquent, has preached before witli- 
 out such results ; but the reader will not fail to see 
 the great charm of the preacher’s life and labours 
 already glowing palpable through those early procla- 
 
THE “ ITAPrY WAPvrJOR.” 
 
 IGl 
 
 Illations of his message. Heart and soul, body and 
 spirit, the man avIio speaks comes before ns as we 
 read ; and I have no doubt that the first tlirill of that 
 charm wliicli soon moved all London, and the fascina- 
 tion of which never wholly faded from Irving’s im- 
 passioned lips, lay in the fact that it was not mere 
 genius or eloquence, great as their magic is, but 
 
 something infinitely greater — a man, aU visible in y, 
 
 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 
 tliose above quoted, without feeling the deep satisfac- 
 tion and content which at last possessed him, and the 
 stimulus given to all his hxculties 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 youth- 
 ful thought ; ” and his descriptions of his studies and 
 the assiduity with which he set to work — his very self- 
 examinations 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, looldng forward with all the deep eager- 
 ness of an ambition which soimht not its own advance- 
 
 O 
 
 ment — a man to whom God had granted the desire 
 of his heart. Fexv men consciously understand and 
 VOL. I. M 
 
162 
 
 THE DESIRE OP HIS HEART. 
 
 acknowledge the fulness of this blessing, which indeed 
 is not often conferred. Most people, indeed, find the posi- 
 tion 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 strugghng, and amid all the 
 joyfid stir of his faculties to fill his place worthily, he 
 never hesitates nor grudges to make full acknowledg- 
 ^ ment that he has got his desire. Not merely obedience 
 and loyalty constrain him to the work, but gratitude to 
 that Master who has permitted him to reach the very 
 post of his choice. With a full heart and 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 strugghng, as 
 most men do, through ungenial circumstances and ad- 
 verse conditions whom we have to contemplate, but a 
 man consciously and confessedly in the place which his 
 imagination and wishes have long pointed out to him 
 as the most desirable, the most suitable in the world 
 for himself. 
 
 With this buoyant and joyful satisfaction, however, 
 no mean motives mingled. Irving’s temper was emi- 
 nently social. He could not live without having people 
 fw round him to love, and stiU more to admire and reve- 
 rence, and even to follow ; but no vain desire of “ good 
 society ” seems to have moved the young Scotchman. 
 He was faithful to Bloomsbury, which his congregation 
 favoured ; and when he set up his first household in 
 London, though moving a little out of that most respect- 
 able of localities, he went further ofi* instead of nearer 
 the world of fashion, and settled in Myddelton Terrace, 
 
HIS FIRST HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 163 
 
 Pentonville. Here he lived in modest economy for 
 some years, prodigal in nothing but charity. The 
 society into which he first glided was still Scotch, even 
 when out of the narrower ecclesiastical boundaries. 
 David Wilkie was one of his earliest friends, and 
 Wilkie brought him into .contact with Allan Cunning- 
 ham, a still closer countryman of his own. Thus he 
 made gradual advances into the friendship and know- 
 ledge of the people about him ; and with his young 
 brother sharing his lodging and calhng out his affec- 
 tionate cares, with daily studies close and persevering 
 as those he has himself recorded ; with the little church 
 Sunday by Sunday overflowing more fully — till ac- 
 cidents began to happen m the narrow streets about 
 Hatton Garden, and at last the concormse had to be 
 regulated by wiles, and the dehghted, but embarrassed, 
 managers of the httle 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 httle building hke so many besieged 
 posterns against the assaults of the crowd ; and with 
 notable faces appearing daily more frequent m the 
 throng of heads all turned towards the preacher, 
 Edward Irving passed the first year of his life in 
 London, and sprang out of obscurity and failure with 
 a sudden unexampled leap to the giddiest height of 
 popular applause, abuse, and idolatry, bearing the 
 wonderful revolution with a steady but joyful sim- 
 plicity, recognising his success as openly as he had 
 recognised the want of it, under which he suffered for 
 so many silent years. 
 
164 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 1823 . 
 
 The second year of Irving’s residence in London was 
 one of the deepest importance, both to himself person- 
 ally and to his reputation. It opened with the publi- 
 cation of his first book, the Orations and the Argument 
 for Judgment to come^ both of which had been partly 
 preached in the form of sermons, and were now in an 
 altered shape presented, not to any special religions 
 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 reli- 
 gious books nor discourses usually address. In this 
 volume it is perceptible that the preacher’s mind had 
 swelled and risen with the increase of his audience. 
 Something more, it was apparent, was required of him 
 than merely congregational ministrations; and he rises 
 at the call to address those classes of men who are 
 never to be found in numbers in any congregation, 
 but who did drift into his audience in unprecedented 
 crowds. In the preface to this 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 
 treatment of his subject, and desiring to be heard not 
 
THE ORATIONS. 
 
 165 
 
 ill 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, liis own steady protest against the ordinary 
 strain of pulpit teaching ; and with a startling earnest- 
 ness — which that long conviction, for which akeady he 
 had suffered both hardship and injustice, explains and 
 justifies better than anything else can do — declares his 
 knowledge of tlie 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 
 characteristic 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 nothing at all 
 about the application and advantages of the single 
 truths of revelation, or of revelation taken as a whole ; 
 and what they do not know they cannot be expected 
 to reverence or obey. This ignorance, in both tlie 
 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 intrusted.” 
 
 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 
 
166 
 
 mVING’S EXPERIMENT IN PREACHING. 
 
 person tliey stigmatise. 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 undergo, and the 
 warm and strong conviction arising out of them which 
 for years had hindered his own advancement, will be 
 surprised at the plain speaking with which he heralds 
 his own first performance. To get at the true way of 
 addressing men, he himself had been for years a wearied 
 listener and discouraged essayist at speech. At last he 
 had found the secret ; and the whole world round him 
 had owned with an instantaneous thrill the power that 
 was in it. With this triumphant vindication of his own 
 doubts and dissatisfaction, to confirm him in his views, it 
 was impossible for such a man to be silent on the general 
 question. At this dazzling moment he had access to 
 the highest intelligences in the country, — the teachers, 
 the governors, the 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 recom- 
 mendation 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 God’s 
 Word and will, if need were, in spite of themselves.^ 
 Thinkmg 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 
 
ADDRESSES HIMSELF TO EDUCATED MEN. 
 
 167 
 
 most effective way of discharging their duty. “ They 
 prepaie for teaching gipsies, for teaching bargemen, 
 for teaching miners, by apprehending their way (ff 
 conceiving and estimating truth ; and why not prepare,” 
 he asks, with eloquent wonder, and a truth which no- 
 body can dispute, “ for teaching 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 mes- 
 senger than any voice — to declare it plainly, the highest 
 reason and excuse for the publication in which he now, 
 with all the fervour and eloquence of a personal com- 
 munication, 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 Eev. Thomas Chalmers, D.D., 
 
 ‘^Minister of St. John’s Church, Grlasgow. 
 
 “ My eonoured 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. 
 
168 
 
 AEGUMENT FOE JUDGMEA^T TO COME. 
 
 among a people whom I love, and overwhom Grod 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 soli- 
 citude, now about to fall into other hands. The Lord be 
 with you and your household, and render unto you manifold 
 for the blessings which you have rendered unto me. I could 
 say much about these Orations which I dedicate to you, but I 
 will not mingle with any literary or theological discussion 
 this pure tribute of affection and gratitude which I render to 
 you before the world, as I have already done into your private 
 ear. I am, my honoured friend, yours, in the bonds of the 
 gospel, Edward Irving.” 
 
 “ Caledonian Church, 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 sjiecially sug- 
 gested to the mind of the writer by the two Visions of 
 Judgiimit 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 aqes 
 at least, extorted from any poet, and the disgusting 
 parody of the other, excited in Irving all the indig- 
 nation and repugnance which was natural to a right- 
 thinking and pious mind. His feehng on the subject 
 seems warmer than those miserable productions were 
 worthy of exciting ; but it is natural that a contem- 
 porary should regard such degradations of literature 
 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 earher friends, the Eev. Eobert (afterwards 
 well known as Dr.) Gordon of Ediiiburgli ; this highest 
 
ASSAILED BY CRITICS. 
 
 1G9 
 
 mark of regard or gratitude, wliich it is in an author’s 
 ])ower to bestow, being in botli cases cliaracteristically 
 conferred on men wlio could in no way advance or aid 
 liim in liis career, but whom lie distinguislied from 
 pure gratitude and friendship only. Inscribed 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 
 (jr since, so universally excited about any volume of 
 religious addresses which ever came from the press. 
 
 The consequence was an onslaught so universal, 
 exciting, and animated, that the satire of the day — the 
 age of pam|)hlets being then in full existence — took hold 
 of the matter, and has preserved, in a curious and 
 amusing form, the comments and ferment of the time. 
 Hie Trial of the Jlev. Edward Irwinjj^ M.A.^ a Cento of 
 Criticism^ had reached the fifth edition, now before us, in 
 the same year, 1823, which was half over before Irving’s 
 book was published. It is the report of a prosecution 
 can ied on before the Court of Common Sense, by Jacob 
 Oldstyle, Clerk, against the new preacher, at the trial of 
 which all the editors of the leading ]>apers are ex- 
 amined, cross-examined, and covered with comic con- 
 fusion. The state of popular interest and excitement 
 suggested by the very ])ossibility of such a jiroduction, 
 and the fact of its having run through at least five edi- 
 tions, is of itself almost unbelievable, considering the short 
 period of Irving’s stay in London, and his character as 
 a preacher of an obscure, and, so far as the ordinary 
 knowledge of the London public was concerned, almost 
 foreign church. Such njeu di esprit is a more powerful 
 
170 
 
 MOCK TRIAL. 
 
 witness of the general commotion than any graver 
 testimony. The common pubhc, it appears, were 
 sufficiently interested to enjoy the mock trial, and the 
 discomfiture of able editors consequent upon that ex- 
 amination, and knew the whole matter so thoroughly 
 that they could appreciate the fun of the travestie. 
 The editor of the Times being called, and having in 
 the course of his examination given the court the 
 benefit of hearing his own article on the subject, gives 
 also the following account of the aspect of affairs at the 
 Caledonian chapel : — 
 
 “Did you find that your exposure of the defendant’s 
 pretensions had the effect of putting an end to the public 
 delusion ? ” 
 
 “ Quite the reverse. The crowds which thronged to the 
 Caledonian chapel instantly doubled. The scene which 
 Cross Street, Hatton Grarden, presented on the following 
 Sunday beggared all description. It was quite a Vanity Fair. 
 Not one half of the assembled multitude could force their way 
 into the sanctum sanctorum. Even we ourselves were shut 
 out among the vulgar herd. For the entertainment of the 
 excluded, however, there was Mr. Basil Montagu preaching 
 peace and resignation from a window; and the once cele- 
 brated Borneo Coates acting the part of trumpeter from the 
 steps of the church, extolling Mr. Irving as the prodigy of 
 prodigies, and abusing the Times for declaring that Mr. 
 Irving was not the god of their idolatry.” 
 
 The other witnesses called give corroborative testi- 
 mony. An overwhelming popularity, Avhich is not to 
 be explained by common rules, is the one thing granted 
 alike by opponents and supporters ; and all the weapons 
 of wit are brought forth against a preacher who indeed 
 had offered battle. Nor were the newspapers the only 
 critics ; every periodical work of the day seems to 
 
INDICTMENT BEFORE THE COURT OF COMMON SENSE. 171 
 
 have occupied itself, more or less, with the extraordinary 
 preacher ; most of them in the tone, not of hterary 
 commentators, but of personal enemies or adherents. 
 The Westminster and Quarterly Eeviews brought up 
 the rear ; the former (in its first number) referring its 
 readers “ for the faults of Mr. Irving, to the thousand- 
 and-one publications in which they have been zealously 
 and carefully set forth,” and complaining that it is 
 “ compelled to fall on Mr. Irving when every critical 
 tooth in the nation has been fleshed upon him already.” 
 None of these criticisms were entirely favourable ; 
 almost all fell heavily upon the phraseology, the gram- 
 mar, and taste of the orator ; and few omitted to notice 
 the imagined “ arrogance ” of his pretensions. But from 
 the solemn deliverance of the Quarterlies, down to the 
 song of Doctor Squintum^ with which the truculent 
 gossip of John Bull edified his readers, everybody was 
 eager to record their several opinions on a topic so 
 interesting. Such matters were certainly discussed in 
 those days with a degree of personality unknown to our 
 politer fashion of attack ; but we cannot remember to 
 have seen or heard of anything like this odd turmoil of 
 universal curiosity and excitement. The counts of the 
 indictment laid against the culprit before the Court of 
 Common Sense will give some idea of the character of 
 the assaults made upon him. They were as follows : — 
 
 First. For being ugly. 
 
 Second. For being a Merry-Andrew. 
 
 Third. For being a common quack. 
 
 Fourth. For being a common brawler. 
 
 Fifth. For being a common swearer. 
 
 Sixth. For being of very common understanding. 
 
172 
 
 ACQUITTAL. 
 
 And, Seventh. For following divisive courses, subversive of 
 the discipline of the order to which he belongs, and contrary 
 to the principles of Christian fellowship and charity. 
 
 It Avill gratify our readers to know that Irving was 
 not found guilty of ugliness, nor of any of the charges 
 brought against him, except the last ; and that one of 
 his principal assailants, the Times itself, the Thunderer 
 of the day, was convicted by his own confession of 
 having condemned Sir Walter Scott as “ a wudter of no 
 imagination,” and Lord Byron as ‘‘ destitute of all 
 poetical talent.” 
 
 Among all his smaller critics, the one personal pecu- 
 liarity, which impaired the effect of Irving’s otherwise 
 fine features and magnificent presence, seems to have 
 always come conveniently to hand to prove his mounte- 
 bankism and want of genius. When his eloquence could 
 not be decried, his divided sight was always open to 
 criticism ; and when aU harder accusations were ex- 
 pended, his squint made a climax which delighted his 
 assailants. Cockney wit, not much qualified for criti- 
 cising anything which had to do with the Oracles of 
 God, sang, not with ill-nature, but merely as a relief 
 to the feelings whicli were incapable of more logical 
 expression, the lively lay of Doctor Squintum^ which 
 indeed was a liarmless effusion of wit, and injured 
 nobody. 
 
 It was not only, however, in the legitimate review 
 that this singular book was assailed or recommended. 
 It produced a little attendant literature of its own in 
 tlie shape of ]:>amphlets, one of which we have already 
 mentioned and quoted from. Anotliei’, entitled An 
 Examination and Defence of theWritings and, Preaching 
 
DESCRIPTION OF THE CHURCH AND PREACHER. 173 
 
 of the Rev. Edward Irving, A.M., gives the following 
 picture of the man and his church : — 
 
 His mere appearance is such as to excite a high opinion 
 of his intellectual powers. He is, indeed, one of whom the 
 casual observer would say, as he passed him in the street, 
 
 ^ There goes an extraordinary man ! ’ He is in height not 
 less than six feet, and is proportionably strongly built. His 
 every feature seems to be impressed with the characters of 
 unconquerable courage and overpowering intellect. He has 
 a head cast in the best Scottish mould, and ornamented with 
 a profusion of long black curly hair. His forehead is broad, 
 deep, and expansive. His thick, black, projecting eyebrows 
 overhang a very dark, small, and rather deep-set penetrating 
 eye. He has the nose of his nation ” (whatever that may 
 happen to be; the essayist does not inform us); ‘^his mouth is 
 beautifully formed, and exceedingly expressive of eloquence. 
 
 In a word, his countenance is exceedingly picturesque 
 
 Having cleared the way, let us request such of our readers 
 as have not attended the Caledonian church, to repair, at 
 a quarter-past ten o’clock on a Sunday morning, to Cross 
 Street, Hatton Garden, the door of the church of which, if he 
 be a humble pedestrian, he will find it difficult to reach, 
 and when he gets to it he cannot enter without a ticket. If 
 he occupies a carriage, he takes his turn behind other 
 carriages, and is subject to the same routine. Having sur- 
 mounted these difficulties, should his ticket be numbered he 
 enters the pew so numbered ; if not, he waits till after the 
 prayer, or possibly all the time, which is, however, unavoid- 
 able. All this adjusted, exactly at eleven o’clock he beholds 
 a tall man, apparently aged about thirty-seven or thirty- 
 eight, with rather handsome but certainly striking features, 
 mount the pulpit stairs. The service commences with a 
 psalm, which he reads ; and then a prayer follows in a deep, 
 touching voice. His prayer is impressive and eloquent. The 
 reading of a portion of Scripture follows, in advertence to 
 which we will only say that he can read. We haste to the 
 oration, for there the peculiar powers of the preacher are 
 called into play. Having pronounced his text, he commences 
 his subject in a low but very audible voice. The character 
 
174 INFLUEJS^CE OF HIS PERSONAL APPEARANCE. 
 
 of his style will immediately catch the ear of all. Until 
 warmed by his subject, we shall only be struck with a full 
 and scriptural phraseology, m which much modern elision is 
 rejected, some additional conjunction introduced, and the 
 auxiliary verbs kept in most active service. As he goes on 
 his countenance, which is surrounded by a dark apostolic 
 head of hair, waving towards his shoulders, becomes strongly 
 expressive and lighted up, and his gesture marked and 
 vehement.” 
 
 It is characteristic that nobody attempts to discuss 
 Irving, even in such matters as his books or his ser- 
 mons, without prefatory personal sketches like the 
 above. Even now, when he has been dead for more 
 than a quarter of a century, his most casual hearer of 
 old times acknowledges the unity of the man by 
 eagerly interpolating personal description into every 
 discussion concerning the great preacher. His person, 
 his aspect, his height, and presence have all a share in 
 his eloquence. There is no dividing him into sections, 
 or making an abstract creature of this living man. 
 
 And it should be remembered that the audience 
 admitted after so elaborate a fashion were not the 
 common rabble who surround and follow a popular 
 preacher. His critics made it a strong point against 
 the bold and unhesitating orator, that it was not the 
 poor, but the intelligent, the learned, and the intellec- 
 tual whom he amtounced himself intent upon addressing. 
 Virtuous Theodore Hook and other edifying evange- 
 lists declared the entry to the Caledonian chapel to be 
 closed to “ the pious poor ” — a class not much accus- 
 tomed to such advocates of their claims. “ His chapel 
 is every Sunday a gallery of beauty and fashion,” says 
 another of his assailants ; mnd persons more important 
 than the fair and fashionable sought the same obscure 
 
INCONVENIENCES OF POFULARITY. 
 
 175 
 
 place of worship. The effect of such incessant crowd- 
 ing, however agreeable at once to the Christian zeal and 
 national pride of the congregation, was no small trial 
 of their patience and good temper. A year later, 
 when about to lay the foundation of their new church, 
 Irving comments feelingly upon all the inconvenience 
 and discomfort of popularity. “ It is not a small matter,” 
 he says in one of his sermons, “ whether we shall in 
 our new quarters be pressed on by every hindrance to 
 rest and devotion, or shall be delivered into the enjoy- 
 ment of Sabbath quiet and church tranquillity. We 
 can now look forward to the comfort and quiet which 
 other congregations enjoy, to that simple condition 
 of things which the simplicity of our Church re- 
 quire th. We have had a most difficult and tedious 
 way to make, through every misrepresentation of 
 vanity and ambition : we have stood in eminent peril 
 from the visits of rank and dignity which have been 
 paid to us. There was much good to be expected from 
 it ; therefore we paid wilhngly the price, being de- 
 sirous that they who heard the truth hut seldom should 
 hear it when they were disposed. But these, you know, 
 are bad conditions to our being cemented together as 
 a Church ; they withdraw Us from ourselves to those 
 conspicuous people by whom we were visited ; from 
 
 A' 
 
 which I have not ceased to warn you, and against 
 which I have not ceased to be upon my own guard.” 
 
 In spite of the universal assaults made against the 
 book, the Orations and Argument ran into a third 
 edition m little more than as many months ; and 
 remain, now that all their critics are forgotten, among 
 the most notable examples 'of religious eloquence. 
 
176 
 
 SUCCESS OF THE BOOK. 
 
 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. Their author, mean- 
 wliile, was approaching a crisis in his life still more 
 important than the publication of his first book. 
 Longer than the patriarch he had waited for his 
 Eachel : and now an engagement, which had lasted, I 
 believe, eleven years, and had survived long separation, 
 and many changes, both of circumstances and senti- 
 ment, was at length to be fulfilled. In the end of 
 September, 1823, Irving left London and travelled by 
 several successive stages to Kirkcaldy, where his bride 
 awaited him. He dates the following letter, pleasantly 
 suggestive of the condition of his mind in these new 
 prospects, from Bolton Abbey. It is addressed to 
 William Hamilton. 
 
 ‘‘ My dear and valuable Friend, — I write yon thus early 
 by my brother, merely to inform you of my health and hap- 
 piness ; for as yet I have had no time to do anything but 
 walk abroad, among the most beautiful and sequestered scenes 
 with which I am surrounded ; and which never fail to pro- 
 duce upon my spirit the most pleasing and profitable effects. 
 When I shall have rested I will write you and my other per- 
 sonal friends at length, and let you know all my plans and 
 purposes during my absence. ... I shall not write you till I 
 get at my journey’s end, and have, perhaps, completed its 
 chief object. But, late though it is, I cannot help telling 
 you how happy I am, and how tranquil and holy a Sabbath 
 I spent yesterday, and how every day I engross into my 
 mind new thoughts, and ruminate upon new designs con- 
 nected with the ministry of Christ in that great city where I 
 labour. The Lord strengthen me, and raise up others more 
 holy and more devoted for His holy service. I foresee infinite 
 battles and contentions, not with the persons of men, but with 
 
A RUEAL SUNDAY. 
 
 177 
 
 their opinions. My rock of defence is my people. They are 
 also my rock of refuge and consolation. We have joined 
 hands together, and I feel that we will make common cause. 
 I hope the Lord will be pleased to give me their souls and 
 their fervent prayers, and then, indeed, we shall be mighty 
 against all opposition. 
 
 “ Will you be so good as to give my brother an order upon 
 my account for whatever cash he may need to enter himself 
 to the hospitals with, or, if it is more orderly, to give it him 
 yourself, and consider this as your voucher should anything 
 happen to me before we meet ? I should be happy to hear 
 from you that all things are going on well. 
 
 “ Yours most affectionately, 
 
 ‘‘Edward Irving. 
 
 “ 29th September, 1823.” 
 
 After this he passed on his way, by his father’s house 
 in Annan ; and the Sunday before his marriage, being 
 now no longer a private man, with his time at his own 
 disposal, went to Haddington to preach among his 
 early friends. There, where he had made his youthful 
 beginning in hfe, and where, when a probationer, he 
 had preached with the ordinary result of half-con- 
 temptuous toleration, his coming now stirred all the 
 little town into excitement. The boys who had been 
 his pupils were now men, proud to recall them- 
 selves to his notice ; and with a warmer thrill of local 
 pride, in recollection of his temporary connection with 
 their burgh, the people of Haddington welcomed the 
 man whom great London had discovered to be the 
 greatest orator of his day. Wlierever he went, indeed, 
 he was hailed with that true Scottish approbation and 
 dehght which always hails the return of a man who 
 has done his duty by Scotland, and made himself 
 famous — a satisfaction no way lessened by the recol- 
 VOL. I. 
 
 N 
 
178 
 
 HIS MAKRIAGE. 
 
 lection that Scotland herself had not been the first to 
 discover his great qualities. 
 
 “ Irving is in Scotland,” writes Dr. Gordon from 
 Edinburgh to Irving’s friend, Mr. Story. “ I have seen 
 him twice for a httle. The same noble fellow — 
 and in spite of all his alleged egotism, a man of great 
 simplicity and straightforwardness. He is to be mar- 
 ried to-day, I believe, to Miss Martin, of Kirkcaldy.” 
 This was on the 1 3th of October. The long-engaged 
 couple were mariied in that Manse of Kirkcaldy which 
 had witnessed so many youthful chapters in Irving’s 
 hfe, 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 imagi- 
 nation of Scotland fondly holds as a second Eeynolds — 
 and in his own person a man much venerated, the father 
 of the clergy in his locahty ; in the presence of a body 
 of kindred worthy of a family in which three genera- 
 tions flourished together. I will not linger upon any 
 description of Irving’s wife. The character of a woman 
 who has never voluntarily brought herself before the 
 public is slicred to her children and her friends. She stood 
 by her husband bravely through every after vicissitude 
 of his hfe ; was so thorough a companion to him, that 
 he confided to her, in detail, all the thoughts which 
 occupied him, as wiU 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 hfe a widow indeed, in the exercise of aU womanly 
 and Christian virtues. If her admiration for his genius, 
 
HIS WIFE. 
 
 179 
 
 and the short-sightedness of love, led her rather to seek 
 the society of those who held him in a kind of idolatry, 
 than of friends more hkely to exert upon him the bene- 
 ficial influence of equals, and so contributed to the 
 clouding of his genius, it is the only blame that has 
 been ever attached to her. She came of a family who 
 were all distinguished by active talent and considerable 
 character ; and with all the unnoted valour of a true 
 woman, held on her way through the manifold agonies 
 — in her case most sharp and often repeated — of hfe. 
 
 After this event a period of wandering followed, to 
 refresh the fatigue of the preacher, after his first year- 
 long conflict with that life of London which, sooner or 
 later, kills almost all its combatants. The bridal pair 
 appear in ghmpses 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 B osneat h saw a vast figure approach- ^ 
 ing through the twilight, carrying — an adjunct which 
 seems to have secured immediate recognition — a port- 
 manteau on its Herculean shoulder. It was Hving, 
 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?” cried the 
 astonished host, as he hastened to welcome his unex- 
 pected visitors. “ And I would like to know,” answered 
 the bridegroom, with all the gleeful consciousness of 
 strength, stretching out the mighty arms which he had 
 just reheved, ‘‘ which of your caitiffs could have carried 
 it better ! ” A httle later the pair are at Annan, awaken- 
 
180 
 
 THE BKIDAL HOLIDAY. 
 
 ing 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 ; 
 he was idling and enjoying himself ; and, with him, 
 these words meant making others enjoy themselves, 
 and leaving echoes of holiday everywhere. So late as 
 the beginning of November he was still in Scotland — 
 in Glasgow, — 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, except in 
 the fashion of his work, he had laboured for years — had 
 resigned his great position for the modest tranquilhty 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 hsten to the 
 last sermon of his master in the ministry. The situa- 
 tion is a remarkable one. He was again to take part 
 in the services in that place where he had filled, 
 loyally, yet with many commotions and wistful dis- 
 satisfaction in his mind, a secondary place, so short a 
 time before. A world of 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 multitudinous 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 aU the laurels 
 of sudden fame, a conqueror and hero. Yet here 
 
EE-APPEARANCE IN ST. JOHN’S. 
 
 181 
 
 again he stood, so entirely in his old place that one can 
 suppose the brilliant interval must have looked like a 
 dream to Irving as he gazed upon the crowd of 
 familiar faces, and saw himself lost and forgotten, as of 
 old, in the absorbing interest with which everybody 
 turned to the great leader under whom they had hved 
 and laboured. Had he been the egotist he was called, 
 or had he come in any vain-glorious hope of con- 
 founding those who did not discover his greatness, he 
 would have chosen another moment to visit Glasgow. 
 But he came in the simplicity of his heart to stand by 
 his friend at a solemn moment, as his friend had stood 
 by him ; to hear the last sermon, and offer the last 
 good wishes. 
 
 Thismomentary 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 glorious than 
 the pulpit of St. John’s, even while Chalmers occu- 
 pied it, could ever have been. At this last farewell 
 moment they stood as if that year, so wonderful to 
 one of them, had never been ; and Irving, 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 
 sermon,” says Dr. Hanna, his biographer, “ it was en- 
 tered by the Eev. Edward Irving, who invited the vast 
 
]82 
 
 EETUEN TO LONDON. 
 
 congregation to accompany 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 appearance 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 blessings the farewell of his 
 friend, is the most graceful and touching conclusion 
 f which could have been given to Irving’s connection 
 with Glasgow; or at least — since after events have 
 linked his 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 httle 
 stream which at that point divides Scotland from 
 England, Irving, with a pleasant bridegroom 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 land- 
 scape, we see no more of the travellers till they re- 
 appear in the bustle of London, where idylls have no 
 existence. 
 
 His marriage leisure had probably been prolonged in 
 consequence of his health having suffered a little from 
 the great labours and excitement of the past year. 
 Just before starting for Scotland, lie had written to this 
 purport to his friend David Hope, who had consulted 
 liim what memorial should be raised to their old 
 
PEEFACE TO THE THIED EDITION OF THE OKATIONS. 183 
 
 schoolmaster, Adam Hope, the master of Annan 
 Academy. He writes : — 
 
 I have been unwell, and living in the country, and not 
 able to attend to your request, but I propose that we should 
 erect a monuroent, when I will myself compose elegies in the 
 various tongues our dear and venerable preceptor taught, — 
 all which I shall concoct with you when I come to Scotland. 
 Tell Grraham, and all my friends,” he adds, “ if they knew 
 what a battle I am fighting for the cause, and what a single- 
 handed contest I have to maintain, they would forgive my 
 apparent neglect. Every day is to me a day of severe occu- 
 pation — I have no idleness. All my leisure is refreshment 
 for new labour. Yet am I happy, and now, thank Grod, well 
 — and this moment I snatch in the midst of study.” 
 
 His marriage and its attendant travels happily 
 interrupted this over-occupation, and he seems to 
 have returned to London with new fire, ready to 
 re-enter the fists, and show no mercy upon the 
 assailants who had now made him for several months 
 a mark for all their arrows. He took his bride to 
 the home which had been for some time prepared 
 for her, and which, for the information of the curious, 
 was Ho. 7 in A ^ ddelton Terrace, Pentonville. 
 
 Has 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 characteristic 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 pursuing 
 another through the press, and one blow after another 
 
184 HIS DEDICATIONS AND PREFACES GENERALLY. 
 
 ringing on his shield, the orator seized his flaming pen 
 and wrote defiance to all his opponents, 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 pro- 
 ceeding, 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 hterature, from whose stings, 
 alas, neither greatness nor smallness can defend the un- 
 fortunate wayfarer ; and the dignified vindication of his 
 own style and diction, which is as noble and modest a 
 profession of literary allegiance as can be found any- 
 where. “ I have been accused of affecting the antiquated 
 manner of ages and times now forgotten,” he says in his 
 defence. “ The writers of those times are too much for- 
 gotten, 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 
 Hooke 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 
 
MR. BASIL MONTAGU. 
 
 185 
 
 unlike ordinary prefaces, whicli authors go on writing 
 with an amazing innocent faith in the attention of the 
 pubhc, and which few people ever dream of looking at, 
 is one of the most eloquent and characteristic portions 
 of the volume. Indeed, I know scarcely any volume 
 of Irving’s works of which this might not be said. 
 In his dedications and prefaces, he carries on a kind 
 of rapid autobiography, and takes his reader 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 fife — a life which permits 
 little leisure and less tranquilhty to those embarked upon 
 it. One of his earliest acquaintances was Mr. Basil 
 Montagu — the gentleman described by the Times 
 as “ preaching peace and resignation from a window ” 
 to the disappointed multitude who could find no en- 
 trance into the Caledonian church. In Mr. Montagu’s 
 hospitable house Irving found the kindest reception 
 and the most congenial society ; and even more than 
 these, found consolation and guidance, when first excited 
 and then disgusted, according to a very natural and oft- 
 repeated process, with the blandishments of society, and 
 the coldness of those rehgious circles which admit 
 nobody who does not come with certificates of theo- 
 logical soundness and propriety in his hand. In dedi- 
 cating a volume of sermons to Mr. Montagu and his 
 wife, some years after, he thus describes his state and 
 circumstances in his first encounter with that wonder- 
 ful Circe from whose fascinations few men escape 
 unharmed : — 
 
186 
 
 Irving's grateful acknowledgments. 
 
 ‘^When the Lord, to serve his own ends, advanced me, 
 from the knowledge of my own flock and the private walks 
 of pastoral duty, to become a preacher of righteousness to 
 this great city, and I may say kingdom, — to the princes, and 
 the nobles, and the counsellors of this great empire, whom He 
 brought to ^h ear me, — I became also an object of attack to 
 the malice and artifice of Satan, being tempted on the one 
 hand to murmur because of the distance at which I was held 
 from the affections of my evangelical brethren, whom I had 
 never persecuted like Saul of Tarsus, but too much loved, 
 even to idolatry ; and on the other hand being tempted to go 
 forth, in the earnest simplicity of my heart, into those high 
 and noble circles of society which were then open to me, and 
 which must either have engulfed me by their enormous 
 attractions, or else repelled my simple affections, shattered 
 and befooled, to become the mockery and contempt of every 
 envious and disappointed railer. At such a perilous moment 
 the Lord in you found for me a Mentor, both to soothe my 
 heart, vexed with cold and uncharitable suspicions, and to 
 preserve my feet from the snares that were around my 
 path. . . . And seeing it hath pleased Grod to make your 
 acquaintance first, and then your unwearied and disinterested 
 kindness, and now, I trust, your true friendship, most helpful 
 to my weakness, as well in leading me to observe more 
 diligently the forms and aspects of human life, and to com- 
 prehend more widely the ways of Hod’s providence with men, 
 as in sustaining me with your good counsel and sweet fellow- 
 ship against the cold dislike and uncharitable suspicion of 
 the religious, and preserving me from the snares of the 
 irreligious world, I do feel it incumbent upon me, as a duty 
 to Gfod, and pleasant to me as a testimony of gratitude and 
 love to you, to prefix your honoured names to this Discourse, 
 which chiefly concerneth the intermediate question of the 
 soil on which the seed of truth is sown, wherein I feel that 
 your intercourse has been especially profitable to my mind. 
 For while I must ever confess myself to be more beholden to 
 T our sage friend, Mr. Coleridge (whose acquaintance and 
 friendship I owe likewise to you), than to all men besides, 
 for the knowledge of the truth itself as it is in Jesus, I 
 freely confess myself to be much your debtor for the knowledge 
 
HIS EARLY DANGERS IN SOCIETY. 
 
 187 
 
 of those forms of the natural mind and of the actual existing 
 world with which the minister of truth hath in the first 
 instance to do, and into the soil of which the seed of truth is 
 to be cast. Your much acquaintance, worthy sir, and your 
 much conversation of the sages of other days, and especially 
 the fathers of the English Church and literature, and your 
 endeavours to hold them up unto all whom you honour with 
 your confidence ; your exquisite feeling, dear and honoured 
 Madam, of whatever is just and beautiful, whether in the idea 
 or in the truth of things, and your faithfulness in holding it 
 up to the view of your friends, together with the delicate 
 skill and consummate grace with which you express it in 
 words and embody it in acts, — these things, my dear and 
 honoured friends, working insensibly during several years’ 
 continuance of a very intimate friendship and very confiden- 
 tial interchange of thought and feeling, have, I perceive, 
 produced in me many of those views of men and things which 
 are expressed in the following Discourse, concerning that 
 question of the several soils into which the seed of truth is 
 cast — a question which I confess that I had very much in 
 time past overlooked.” 
 
 I make this long and interesting extract out of its 
 chronological place, as the best means I have of showing 
 at once the temper of Irving’s mind and the circum- 
 stances in which he stood at his outset in London ; — 
 on one side, rehgious people, shy of him at first, as of a 
 man who used a freedom in speech and in thought un- 
 known to ordinary preachers, or authors of published 
 sermons — and afterwards affronted and angry at his 
 bold, simple-minded declaration that they had lost or 
 forgotten the way to proclaim the truth they held ; and, 
 on the other, society of a more dazzling kind and with 
 profounder attractions than any he had yet met with — 
 society such that men of genius continually lose their 
 head, and sometimes break their heart in seeking it. 
 
188 
 
 BEDFOKD SQUARE. 
 
 The position in which he thus found himself was, 
 indeed, enough to confuse a man always eager for 
 love and friendship, and ready to trust all the world. 
 Irving, fresh from the simpler circumstances of life in 
 Scotland, charmed with that subtle atmosphere of re- 
 finement and high breeding which seems at the first 
 breath to the uninstructed genius the very embodiment 
 of his dreams, stood upon that dangerous point between, 
 repelled from one side, attracted to the other, under- 
 standing neither thoroughly — wavering and doubtful at 
 the edge of the precipice. That he had a friend quahfied 
 to point out to him the danger on both sides, and that he 
 was wise enough to accept that teaching, was a matter 
 for which he might well be grateful. Mr. Montagu 
 drew him to his own house, brought him into a circle 
 above fashion, yet without its dangerous seductions, and 
 introduced him to Coleridge and many other notable 
 men. And Irving, brought into the warm and affec- 
 tionate 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 unfamihar, in which the hereditary culture of 
 generations had culminated, and which, full of thought 
 and ripened knowledge, was not to be moved by gene- 
 ralities — which he could not have learned either m his 
 secondary r^nk of scholarship in Edinburgh, nor among 
 the merchants of Glasgow. He saw, but in the best and 
 most advantageous way, what every thoughtful mind, 
 which lives long enough, is brought to see something of — 
 how deeply nature has to do with all the revolutions of 
 
COLERIDGE. 
 
 189 
 
 the soul ; how men are of an 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 fruitful variation, and came to know how, by the 
 most diverse and different paths, the same end may be 
 attained. If his natural impatience of everything con- 
 tracted, mean, and narrow-minded gained force in this 
 society, it is not a surprising result. But he had always 
 been sufficiently ready to contemn and scorn common- 
 place boundaries. His friends in Bedford Square, and 
 their friends, taught him to appreciate more thoroughly 
 the unities and diversities of man. 
 
 Scarcely any record remains of the mtercourse which 
 existed between Hving and Coleridge, an intercourse 
 which was begun, as has just been seen, by Mr. Mon- 
 tagu. It lasted for years, and was full of kindness on 
 the part of the philosopher, and of reverential respect on 
 that of Irving, who, following the natural instinct of his 
 own ingenuous nature, changed 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 Pres- 
 byter — into the simple and candid hstener, more ready 
 to learn than he was to teach, and to consider the ^ 
 thoughts of another than to propound his own. Ho- 
 thing, 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 m his own consciousness 
 he was always learning ; and not only so, but with the 
 
190 HIS INFLUENCE 0N‘ THE VIEWS OF IRVING. 
 
 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 fife and death, through 
 which his own cry “ to the rescue ! ” was continually 
 ringing, and his own hand snatching forth from under 
 tramphng feet the wounded and the fallen. Here 
 Irving changed the common superficial idea of the 
 world’s conversion — that behef calmly held or ear- 
 nestly insisted on in the face of acknowledged disap- 
 pointment in many missionary efforts, and the slowness 
 and lingering issues of even the most 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 
 inchnation into the Church — the present reign of Satan 
 hastening, of its own accord, into the millennial reign 
 of Christ.” For this doctrine he learned to substitute 
 the idea of a dispensation drawing towards its close, 
 and — its natural consequence in a mind so full of love 
 to God and man — of an altogether glorious and over- 
 whelming revolution yet to come, in which all the dead 
 society, churches, kingdoms, fashions of this world, 
 galvanically kept in motion until the end, should be 
 
SOCIAL CHARITIES. 
 
 191 
 
 finally burned up and destroyed. Whether this de- 
 velopment of wistful and anxious faith, and the “ de- 
 liverance ” conveyed by it — or whether that more subtle 
 view of the ancient and much-assailed Calvinistic doc- 
 trine of election, which sets forth God’s message and 
 messengers as specially addressed to “ the worthy,” and 
 universally received by them wherever the message is 
 heard — was the substance of what the preacher learned 
 from the poet-philosopher, there is no information. 
 The prodigal thanks with which the teaching was re- 
 ceived, given out of the fulness of a heart always ready 
 to exaggerate the benefits conferred upon it, is almost 
 the only distinct record of what passed between them. 
 
 Such was his society and occupations when he re- 
 tmmed with the companion of his life from Scotland. 
 He brought his wife into a house in which the tumult 
 of London was perpetually heard ; not into a quiet 
 ecclesiastical society, like that which generally falls to 
 the lot of the wives of Scotch ministers, but to a much- 
 disturbed dwelling-place, constantly assailed by visitors, 
 and invaded by agitations of the world. Among all 
 the other excitements of popularity, there came also the 
 pleasant excitement of a new church about to be built, 
 of size proportioned to the necessities of the case. The 
 same crowds and commotion still surrounded the Cale- 
 donian chapel, but they became more bearable in the 
 prospect of more roomy quarters. An unfaihng suc- 
 cession of private as well as public calls upon the kind- 
 ness, help, and hospitality of a man whom everybody 
 believed in, and who proffered kindness to all, helped 
 to increase the incessant motion and activity of that full 
 and unresting life. Thus within eighteen months after 
 
192 
 
 A SIMPLE PRESBYTEE. 
 
 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 aU along 
 had looked on and watched his career, not sure how far 
 its daughter’s future was safe in the hands of a man 
 so often foiled, yet so unsubduable, to place her in a 
 position and society which few clergymen of his church 
 have ever attained, and indeed which few men in any 
 church, however titled or dignified, could equal. The 
 pecuharity 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 httle 
 addition to his means, and none to his station ; and 
 that, while he moved among men of the highest intel- 
 lect and position, neither his transcendent popularity 
 nor his acknowledged genius ever changed that primi- 
 tive 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 vision- 
 ary though real rank could by common verdict be 
 bestowed. 
 
193 
 
 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 tOAvn-like 
 and closely-inhabited regions of London. In Penton- 
 ville, indeed, faint breaths of country air might at that 
 period be supposed to breathe along the tidy, genteel 
 streets ; but in Bloomsbury, where many of Irving’s 
 friends resided, or in the dusty ranges of Holborn, 
 where his church was, no such refreshment can have 
 been practicable. Nor had the Presbyterian minister 
 any rehef from curates, or assistance of any kind. His 
 entire pulpit services — and, according to his own con- 
 fession, his sermons averaged an hour and a quarter in 
 length — his prayers, as much exercises of the intellect 
 as of the heart, came from his own lips and mind, un- 
 aided by the intervention 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 friendless, 
 and the stranger, whensoever they addressed him. That 
 VOL. I. 0 
 
194 
 
 FAILURE OF HEALTH. 
 
 this overwhelming amount of work, combined as 
 it was with all the excitement inseparable from the 
 position of a popular preacher — a preacher so popular 
 as to have his church besieged every day it was opened 
 — should tell upon his strength, was to be expected; 
 and accordingly we find him writing in the following 
 terms to Mr. Collins of Glasgow, the pubhsher, who 
 had taken a large share in Dr. Chalmers’s parochial 
 work in St. John’s, and was one of Irving’s steady 
 friends. Some time before he had undertaken to write 
 a preface to a new edition of the works of Bernard 
 Gilpin, w^hich is the matter referred to : — 
 
 “ 7 Middleton Terrace, 24th February, 1824. 
 
 ‘ My dear Mr. Collins, — I pray you not for a moment to 
 imagine that I have any other intention, so long as God gives 
 me strength, than to fulfil my promise faithfully. I am at 
 present worked beyond my strength, and you know that is 
 not inconsiderable. My head ! my head ! I may say with 
 the Shunamite’s child. If I care not for it, the world will soon 
 cease to care for me, and I for the world. If you saw me 
 many a night unable to pray with my wife, and forced to have 
 recourse to forms of prayer, you would at once discover what 
 hath caused my delay. I have no resource if I throw myself 
 up, and a thousand enemies wait for my stumbling and fall. 
 
 “ I am now better, and this week had set to rise at six 
 o’clock and finish it, but I have not been able. Next week I 
 shall make the attempt again and again, till I succeed ; for 
 upon no account, and for no sake, will I touch or undertake 
 aught until I have fulfilled my promise in respect to Gilpin. 
 But one thing I will say, that I must not be content with the 
 preface of a sermon or patches of a sermon. The subject is 
 too important — too many eyes are upon me — and the interests 
 of religion are too much inwarped in certain places with my 
 character and writing, that I should not do my best. 
 
 ‘^The Lord bless you and all his true servants. 
 
 ‘^Your faithful friend, 
 
 Edward Irving.” 
 
DETEEMIXATIOX TO DO HIS WORK THOROUGHLY. 195 
 
 This conscientious determination to do nothing im- 
 perfectly is, amid all the exaltation and excitement of 
 Irving’s position, no small testimony to his steadiness 
 and devout modesty. Adulation ' had not been able 
 to convince him that his name was sufficient to give 
 credit to careless writing, nor had the vehement and 
 glowing genius, now fully enfranchised and acknow- 
 ledged, learned to consider itself independent of industry 
 and painstaking labours. He had learned what criticism 
 awaited everything he wrote ; and even while he re- 
 taliated manfully, was doubtless warned in minor 
 matters by the storm just then passing over, which had 
 been raised by his former publication. 
 
 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 im- 
 perfect or comphcated 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 enlist- 
 ment of the “ highest talent,” to give attraction to the 
 yearly solemnity of the Society. Had the London com- 
 mittee been wise they would scarcely have chosen so 
 daring and original an orator to celebrate their anni- 
 versary ; since 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 care- 
 
196 PEEPAEES TO WEITE A MISSIOA^AEY SOCIETY OEATIOX 
 
 ful 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 pro- 
 gress and panegyric upon its missionaries, Irving’s pre- 
 parations ran in the following extraordinary channel: — 
 
 Having been requested by the London Missionary Society/’ 
 he writes, “ to preach upon the occasion of their last anni- 
 versary, 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 dis- 
 course, it seemed to my conscience that I had undertaken a 
 duty 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 Scriptures in secret; and in 
 their pious companies conversed of the convictions which 
 were secretly brought to my mind concerning the mis.sionary 
 work. And thus, not without much prayer to Grod 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 pre- 
 meditated and composed by a man whose youth was 
 full of missionary projects such as no practical nine- 
 teenth century judgment could designate otherwise than 
 as the wildest romance, was not likely to come to such 
 a sermon as should content the London or any other 
 Missionary Society. It was not an exposition of the 
 character of a missionary as apprehended by an heroic 
 mind, capable of the labours it described, 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 
 
FOR MISSIONARIES AFTER THE APOSTOLICAL SCHOOL.” 197 
 
 with the abstract truth, had to pay the inevitable 
 penalty. The day came. Li preparation for a great 
 audience the chapel in Tottenham Court Eoad, once 
 known as the Tabernacle, and built for Whitfield, was 
 selected. The day was wet and dreary, but the im- 
 mense building was crowded long before the hour of ^ 
 meeting, many finding it impossible to get admittance. 
 
 So early was the congregation assembled, that to keep 
 so vast a throng occupied, the officials considered it 
 wise to begin the preliminary services a full hour 
 before the time appointed. When the preacher ap- 
 peared at last, his discourse was so long that he had to 
 pause, according to the primitive custom of Scotland, 
 twice during its course, the congregation in the intervals 
 singing some verses of a hymn. One of the hearers on 
 that occasion tells that, for three hours and a half, he, 
 only a youth, and though a fervent admirer of the 
 orator, still susceptible to fatigue, sat jammed in and 
 helpless near the pulpit, unable to extricate himself. 
 All this might have but added to the triumph ; and 
 even so early in his career it seems to have been under- 
 stood of Irving, that the necessity of coming to an end 
 did not occur to him, and that not the hour, but the 
 subject, timed his addresses, so that his audience were 
 partly warned of what they had to look for. But the 
 oration which burst upon their astonished ears was 
 quite a different matter. It had no connection with the 
 London i\Iissionary Society. It was the ideal missionary 
 — the Apostle lost behind the veil of centuries — the 
 Evangelist, commissioned of God, who had risen out 
 of Scripture and the primeval ages upon the gaze of 
 the preacher. He discoursed to the startled throng. 
 
198 
 
 THE WANDERING APOSTLE. 
 
 met there to be asked for subscriptions — to have their 
 interest stimulated in the regulations of the committee, 
 and their eyes directed towards its w^orthy and respect- 
 able representatives, each dravfing a little congregation 
 about him in some corner of the earth — of a man with- 
 out staff or scrip, without 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 wickedness — an Apostle 
 responsible to no man — a messenger of the cross. The 
 intense reahty natural to one who had all but embraced 
 that austere martyr vocation in his own person, 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, mth utter wonder, or 
 even with possible contempt, that wildest visionary con- 
 ception. But that it was true for him, nobody, I think, 
 who has followed his course thus far, will be disposed 
 either to doubt or to deny. 
 
 The wdldest hubbub rose, as '•vas natural, after this 
 extraordinary utterance. It would not have been 
 wonderful if the irritated London Society, balked at 
 once of its triumph, and the advantage to be derived 
 from a wise advocacy of its cause, had set down this 
 unlooked-for address as a direct piece of antagonism 
 and premeditated injury. I am not aware that any- 
 body ever did so ; but I allow that it might have been 
 alleged with some show of justice. To judge of 
 Irving’s course on this occasion by mere ordinary laws 
 of human action, it would not be very difficult to make 
 out that somehow, piqued or affronted by the Society, 
 
CONSTEENATIOX OF THE AUDIENCE. 
 
 199 
 
 or at least disapproving of it while pretending to serve 
 it, he had taken opportunity of the occasion, and done 
 liis best to place it in a false position before its friends 
 and supporters. The fact was as different as can well 
 be conceived. Eesolute to give them of his best, as he 
 himself describes, and judging the ‘‘ reverend and pious 
 men ” whom he was about to address, as free to follow 
 out the truth as himself, the conscientious, simple- 
 minded preacher went down to the depths of his 
 subject, and, all forgetful of committees and rules of 
 ‘‘ practical usefulness,” set before them the impossible 
 missionary — the man not trained in any college or by 
 any method yet invented — the man the speaker himself 
 could and would have been, but for what he considered 
 the interposition of Providence. The amazed and 
 doubtful silence, the unwilhng fascination with which 
 they must have listened through these inevitable hours 
 to that visionary in his visionary description — watching 
 in impatience and helpless indignation while the wild 
 but sublime picture of a man who certainly could not 
 be identified among their own excellent but unsublime 
 messengers, rose before the multitudinous audience in 
 which, a little while before, official eyes must have re- 
 joiced over a host of new subscribers, — all, alas! 
 melting away under the eloquence of this splendid 
 Malaprop, — may be easily imagined. One can fancy 
 what a rehef the end of this discourse must have been 
 to the pent-up wrath and dismay of the missionary 
 committee ; and indeed it is impossible not to sympa- 
 thize with them in their unlooked-for discomfiture. 
 
 In the meantime, preoccupied and lost in the con- 
 templation of that most true yet most impossible ser- 
 
200 
 
 WEATH OF THE EELIGIOUS WOELD. 
 
 vant of God, whom he had evoked from the past and 
 the future to v^hicli 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 
 missionary 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 precau- 
 tion, since the complacency of the London Society 
 evidently did not carry them the length of paying the 
 X' preacher of so umvelcome an address that customary 
 compliment. But in the commotion that followed — in 
 the vexation and wn'*ath of “ the religious world,” and the 
 astonished outcry of everybody connected with missions 
 — the preacher, not less astonished than themselves, dis- 
 covered that his doctrine was new, and unwelcome to 
 the reverend and pious men for whose hearing he had 
 so carefully prepared it. When he heard his high con- 
 ception of the missionary character denounced as an 
 ill-timed rhetorical display, and that which he had 
 devoutly drawn from the only inspired picture of such 
 messengers characterised as not only visionary and wild, 
 but an implied hbel upon their present representatives, 
 his sincere heart was roused and startled. He went 
 back to his New Testament, the only store of informa- 
 tion he knew of. He drew forth Paul and Barnabas, 
 Peter and John, first missionaries, apostles sent of God. 
 The longer he pondered over them the more his pic- 
 ture rose and expanded. Was not the errand the same, 
 the promise of God the same ? — and why should the 
 
A MARTYR-MISSIONARY. 
 
 201 
 
 character of the individual be so different? The 
 natural result followed : confirmed by further examina- 
 tion, and strengthened by opposition, the sermon en- 
 larged, and grew into an appeal to the world. Pity, 
 always one of the strongest principles in his soul, came 
 in to quicken his action. A missionary in Demerara, 
 who had apostolically occupied himself in the instruc- 
 tion of slaves, had been arrested by an arbitrary 
 planter-legislation, upon some outbreak of the negroes, 
 on the false and cruel (charge of having incited them to 
 insurrection, and had been actually, by Enghshmen, 
 found guilty, and sentenced to death in consequence. 
 The sentence w^as not carried out, fortunately for those 
 wdio pronounced it; but the unfortunate missionary, 
 already ill, and savagely incarcerated, died a martyr to 
 the cruelty which had not yet dared to bring him to 
 the scaffold. The case, an ugly precedent to other cases 
 in another country, which we find ourselves now at full 
 hberty to stigmatise as they deserve, awoke the horror 
 and compassion of England ; and when the forlorn 
 widow returned home, Irving, eager to show his sym- 
 pathy and compassion, and finding the name of a mis- 
 sionary martyr most fit to be connected with his picture 
 of the missionary character, came once more before 
 the world with the obnoxious discourse, which liis first 
 hearers had not asked him to print. 
 
 Being unable in any other way,” he says, to testify my 
 sense of his injuries, and my feeling of the duty of the Chris- 
 tian Church to support his widow, I resolved that I would do 
 so by devoting to her use this fruit of my heart and spirit. 
 Thus moved, I gave notice that I would publish the discourse, 
 and give the proceeds of the sale into her hands. When 
 again I came to meditate upon this second engagement which 
 
202 
 
 PUBLICATION^ OF THE ORATION. 
 
 I had come under, and took into consideration the novelty of 
 the doctrine which I was about to promulgate, I set myself to 
 examine the whole subject anew, and opened my ear to every 
 objection which I could hear from any quarter, nothing 
 repelled by the uncharitable constructions and ridiculous 
 account which was often rendered of my views ; the effect of 
 which was, to convince me that the doctrine which I had 
 advanced was true, but of so novel and unpalatable a charac- 
 ter, that if it was to do any good, or even to live, it must be 
 brought before the public with a more minute investigation 
 of the Scriptures, and fuller development of reason, than 
 could be contained within the compass of a single discourse. 
 To give it this more convincing and more living form was 
 the occupation of my little leisure from pastoral and minis- 
 terial duties, rendered still less during the summer months 
 by the indifference of my bodily health ; and it was not until 
 the few weeks of rest and recreation which I enjoyed in the 
 autumn that I was able to perceive the true form and full 
 extent of the argument which is necessary to make good my 
 position.” 
 
 As this is the first point upon which Irving fairly 
 parted company with his evangehcal brethren, and 
 exasperated that large, active, and influential commu- 
 nity which, as he somewhere says, not without a little 
 bitterness, “ calls itself the rehgious world and as it 
 discloses with singular force the temper and constitu- 
 tion of his mind, I may be permitted to enter into it 
 more fully than one of his shortest and least complete 
 pubhcations might seem to deserve. He himself ex- 
 plains, in a very noble and elevated strain, the manner 
 in which he was led to consider the character of the 
 gospel missionary. He was present at one of the great 
 missionary meetings in the metropohs, those meetings 
 with which all the British pubhc have more or less 
 acquaintance, and which collect audiences as wealthy, 
 as devout, and as estimable as can be found anywhere, 
 
AN EXETEE HALL MEETING. 
 
 203 
 
 yet which are, as everybody must allow, and as many 
 uneasily feel, as unlike apostolical conferences as can 
 well be imagined. In such an assembly, “ where the 
 heads and leaders of the religious world were present,” a 
 speaker, whose name Irving does not mention, expressed 
 himself amid great applause in the following manner : — 
 “ If I were asked what was the first quahfication for a 
 missionary,! would say. Prudence ; and what the second? 
 Prudence, and what the third? still I would answer. Pru- 
 dence.” The effect which such a statement was hkely 
 to have upon one listener, at least, in the assembly, may 
 well be imagined. Startled and disgusted, he went away, 
 not to examine into the memoirs of missionaries, or the 
 balance sheets of societies, but into the primitive mis- 
 sion and its regulations. He finds that faith, and not 
 prudence, is the apostolic rule. He finds that religious 
 faith alone has the prerogative of withstanding ‘‘tliis evil 
 bent of prudence to become the death of all ideal and 
 invisible things, whether poetry, sentiment, heroism, dis- 
 interestedness, or faith.” He finds that the visionary 
 soul of good, which in other matters is opposed to and 
 conquered by the real, is in faith alone unconquerable, 
 the essence of its nature. He then touches upon the 
 only particular in which the early mission differs from 
 the mission in aU ages, the power of working miracles, 
 and asks whether the lack of this faculty makes an 
 entire change of method and procedure necessary? 
 With lofty indignation he adds the conclusion which 
 has been arrived at by the rehgious world : — 
 
 The consistency of the Christian doctrine with everlasting 
 truth is nothing ; the more than chivalrous, the divine intre- 
 pidity and disinterestedness of its teachers is nothing ; the 
 
204 PROTEST AGAINST THE MACHINERY OF EVANGELISM. 
 
 response of every conscience to the word of the preacher is 
 nothing ; the promise of Grod’s Spirit is nothing ; it is all to 
 be resolved by the visible work, the outward show of a 
 miracle. . . . The Grospel owed its success in the first 
 ages wholly to this, or to this almost wholly ; but for us, we 
 must accommodate ourselves to the absence of these super- 
 natural means, and go about the work in a reasonable, 
 prudent way, if we would succeed in it ; calculate it as the 
 merchant does an adventure ; set it forth as the statesman 
 does a colony ; raise the ways and means within the year, and 
 expend them within the year ; and so go on as long as we 
 can get our accounts to balance.” 
 
 This conclusion the preacher then sets himself to 
 overthrow, by propounding the character of the “ Mis- 
 sionary after the apostolic school,” which, although pre- 
 faced with due acknowledgment of “the high and 
 seated dignity which this Society hath attained in the 
 judgment of the Christian Church, and the weighty and 
 well-earned reputation which it hath obtained, not in 
 Christendom alone, but over the widest bounds of the 
 habitable earth,” was indisputably contrary to the very 
 idea of missions, as held and carried on by such 
 societies. Only the first part of a work, intended to be 
 completed in four parts, was given to the world, the mind 
 of the preacher being more deeply engrossed from day 
 to day in that law of God which was his meditation 
 day and night, and directed ever to new unfolding of 
 doctrine and instruction. This publication was dedi- 
 cated 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 3mur heart to the 
 greater part of your countrymen, and misrepresented as your 
 
DEDICATION TO COLERIDGE. 
 
 205 
 
 works have been by those who have the ear of the vulgar, it 
 will seem wonderful to many that I should make choice of 
 you from the circle of my friends, to dedicate to you these 
 beginnings of my thoughts upon the most important subject 
 of these or any times ; and when I state the reason to be, that 
 you have been more profitable to my faith in orthodox doc- 
 trine, to my spiritual understanding of the Word of Grod, and 
 to my right conception of the Christian Church than any or 
 all the men with whom I have entertained friendship and 
 conversation, it will, perhaps, still more astonish the mind 
 and stagger the belief of those who have adopted, as once I 
 did myself, the misrepresentations which are jDurchased for a 
 hire and vended for a price, concerning your character and 
 works. ... I have partaken so much high intellectual enjoy- 
 ment from being admitted into the close and familiar inter- 
 course with which you have honoured me ; and your many 
 conversations concerning the revelations of the Christian faith 
 have been so profitable to me in ever}?- sense, as a student and 
 preacher of the gospel ; as a spiritual man and a Christian 
 pastor ; and your high intelligence and great learning have 
 at all times so kindly stooped to my ignorance and inexperi- 
 ence, that not merely with the affection of friend to friend, 
 and the honour due from youth to experienced age, but with 
 the gratitude of a disciple to a wise and generous teacher, 
 of an anxious inquirer to the good man who hath helped him 
 in the way of truth, I do presume to offer you the first fruits 
 of my mind since it received a new impulse towards truth, 
 and a new insight into its depths from listening to your dis- 
 course. Accept them in good part, and be assured that, 
 however insignificant in themselves, they are the offering of 
 a heart which loves your heart, and of a mind which looks 
 up with reverence to your mind. ^ 
 
 ‘^Edward Irving.” 
 
 These lavish thanks, bestowed with a rash prodi- 
 gality, which men of less generous and effusive tem- 
 perament could never be brought to understand, were, 
 according to all ordinary rules of reason, profoundly 
 
206 
 
 LAVISH ACKNOWLEDGMENTS. 
 
 imprudent. To put such a name as that of Coleridge*, 
 under any circumstances, on a work which its author 
 was already assured would be examined with the most 
 eager and angry jealousy, and in which a great many 
 of his rehgious 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 acknowledgments 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 received, or to provide against the 
 danger of connecting himself openly with all whom he 
 loved or honoured. 
 
 This pubhcation was received with shouts of angry 
 criticism from all sides, and called forth an Expostula- 
 tory Letter from Mr. W. Orme, the secretary of the 
 outraged Missionary Society. This letter is exactly 
 such a letter as the secretary of a missionary society, 
 suddenly put upon its defence, would be likely to write, 
 full of summary applications of the argumentum ad 
 liominem^ and much pious indignation. Between the 
 preacher and his assailant it would be altogether im- 
 possible to decide ; they were concerned with questions 
 
 * In Leigli 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 o"wn 
 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 aU 
 the men he ever conversed with. He is a moc^t amiable, sincere, 
 modest man in a room, this Boanerges in the temple. Mrs. Monta- 
 gu 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.” 
 
COLDNESS AND ESTRANGEMENT. 
 
 207 
 
 in reality quite distinct, though in name the same ; the 
 one regarding the matter as an individual man, capable 
 of all the labour and self-denial he described, might 
 reasonably regard it ; the other looking upon it with 
 the troubled eyes of a society, whose business it was 
 to acquire and train and send forth such men, and 
 which had neither leisure nor inchnation to consider any- 
 thing which was not practicable. It is entirely a drawn 
 battle between them ; nor could it have been otherwise 
 had a champion equal to the assailant taken the field. 
 
 But the religious world was too timid to perceive the 
 matter in this light. To attack its methods was 
 nothing less than to attack its object, nor would it 
 permit itself to see differently ; and a man who ac- 
 knowledged, with even unnecessary warmth and frank- 
 ness, the instruction he had received from one who 
 certainly was not an authorised guide in religious 
 matters, and who proffered to them a splendid antique 
 ideal instead of the practicable modern missionary, 
 became a man suspect and dangerous : and the cold- 
 ness, of which he again and again complains, rose an 
 invisible barrier between the fervent preacher and the 
 reverend and pious men to whom, in all simplicity and 
 honest endeavour to lay his best before them, he had 
 offered only the unusual and starthng truths which 
 they could not receive. 
 
 Wliile all this was going on Irving’s life proceeded 
 in the same full stream of undiminished popularity 
 and personal labour. Besides the passing crowds which 
 honoured and embarrassed the chapel in Cross Street, 
 its congregation had legitimately increased into dimen- 
 sions which the pastor, single-handed, could not dream 
 
208 
 
 THE PEESBYTERIAX ELDERSHIP. 
 
 of retaining the full superintendence of ; neither, if he 
 could have done it, would such a state of things have 
 been consistent with Presbyterian order. He seems to 
 have had but one elder to yield him the aid and 
 countenance with which Presbyterianism accompanies 
 its ministers. Accordingly from the summer retire- 
 ment at Sydenham, which he alludes to in the preface 
 to his missionary oration, he sent the following letter, 
 an exposition of the office to which he invited his 
 friend, to Wilham Hamilton : — 
 
 Sydenham, 2nd June, 1824. 
 
 Dear Sir, — It has for a long time been the anxious desire 
 and prayer, and the subject of frequent conversation to Mr. 
 Dinwiddie and myself, that the Lord would direct us in 
 the selection of men from amongst the congregation to fill 
 
 the office of elders amongst us And now, my dear 
 
 brother, I write to lay this matter before you, that you may 
 cast it in your mind, and make it the subject of devout 
 meditation and prayer. That you may be rightly informed 
 of the nature of this office I refer you to Titus i. 6 ; 1 
 Timothy v. 17; Acts xx. 17; and that you may further know 
 the powers with which the founders of our Church have 
 invested this office, I extract the following passage from the 
 second book of Discipline, drawn up and adopted by the 
 G-eneral Assembly for the regulation of the Church in the 
 year of our Lord 1590. — Book 2nd, chapter vi.* 
 
 * The quotation is as follows: — “ What manner of persons they 
 ought to be, we refer it to the express word, and mainly to the 
 canons written by the Apostle Paul. 
 
 “ Their office is, both severally and conjointly, to watch over the 
 flock committed to their care, both publicly and privately, that no 
 corruption of religion or manners enter therein. 
 
 “ As the pastors and doctors should be diligent in teaching, and 
 sowing the seed of the Word; so the elders should be careful in 
 seeking after the fruit of the same in the people. 
 
ITS DUTIES AND PRIVILEGES. 
 
 209 
 
 And now we pray of you, our dear and worthy brother, to 
 join with us and help us in the duty for which we are our- 
 selves unequal, of administering rightly the spiritual affairs 
 of the congregation. No one feels himself to be able for the 
 duties of a Christian, much less of the overseer of Christians ; 
 and you may feel unwilling to engage in that for which you 
 may think yourself unworthy. But we pray you to trust in 
 the Lord, who giveth grace according to our desire of it, and 
 perfects his strength in our weakness. If you refuse, we 
 know not which way to look ; for, as the Lord knoweth, we 
 have fixed upon you and the other four brethren because 
 you seemed to us the most worthy. I, as your pastor, will 
 do my utmost endeavour to instruct you in the duties of the 
 eldership. I shall be ready at every spiritual call to go and 
 minister along with you ; and, by the grace of Grod, having 
 no private ends known to me but the single end of God’s 
 glory, and the edification of the people, we who are at 
 present of the session will join with you hand in hand in 
 
 every good and gracious work 
 
 If you feel a good will to the work — a wish to profit 
 and make progress in your holy calling — and a desire after 
 the edification of the Church, the gifts will be given you, and 
 the graces will not be withheld. Therefore, if it can be 
 consistently with your conscience and judgment, we pray you 
 and entreat you to accept of our solicitation, and to allow 
 
 “ It appertains to them to assist the pastor in the examination of 
 them that come to the Lord’s table : Item, in visiting the sick. 
 
 “ They should cause the Acts of the Assemblies, as well particular 
 as general, to be put in execution carefully. 
 
 “ They should be diligent in admonishing all men of their duty 
 according to the rule of the Evangel. 
 
 “ Things that they cannot correct by private admonition they 
 must bring to the eldership. 
 
 “ Their principal office is to hold assemblies with the pastors and 
 doctors who are also of their number, for establishing of good order 
 and execution of discipline, unto the which assemblies all persons 
 are subject that remain within their bounds.” 
 
 This latter is the formidable institution of the Kirk Session, which 
 bears so large a part in Scottish domestic annals, and has been sub- 
 ject, in later days, to so much ignorant invective. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 P 
 
210 
 
 lEVING FORMS HIS KIRK SESSION. 
 
 yourself to be constrained by tbe need and importunity of the 
 Church to be named for this holy office. 
 
 “ On Friday, next week, I shall come and spend the evening 
 at your house, and converse with you on this matter ; mean- 
 while, accept of my heartfelt wishes for your spiritual welfare, 
 and let us rejoice together in the work which the Lord is 
 working in the midst of us. I know that you will not take 
 it amiss that I have used the hand of my wife in copying off 
 this letter — [up to this point, the letter had been in Mrs. 
 Irving’s angular feminine handwriting ; but here her 
 husband’s bolder characters strike in] — who is well worthy 
 of the trust, although I cannot bring her to think or write so. 
 
 I am, my dear brother. 
 
 Your most affectionate pastor and friend, 
 
 ^‘Edward Irving.” 
 
 This <apostolical rescript, warmed with the quaint 
 touch of domestic affection at the end, accomphshed its 
 purpose, and the excellent man who had all along been 
 Irving’s referee and assistant in everything personal to 
 himself, his friends, and charities, became one of the 
 rulers and recognised overseers of the Church, which 
 henceforward had, hke other Presbyterian congre- 
 gations, its orthodox session, in which for years the 
 preacher found nothing but fervent sympathy, appre- 
 ciation, and assistance. 
 
 A little further on we are introduced into the 
 bosom of the modest home in Pentonville, where 
 domestic life and its events had now begun to expand 
 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 : — 
 
BIETH OF LITTLE EDWARD. 
 
 211 
 
 “ Pentonville, 22nd July, 1824. 
 
 “ My 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 constituted, with the mother, are 
 rejoicing in the grace and goodness of Giod. 
 
 “ Mrs. Martin and Margaret are both well, and salute you 
 grandfather, wishing with all our hearts that you may never 
 lay down the name, but enjoy it while you live. 
 
 “ I am well, and I think the pleasure of the Lord is pros- 
 pering in my hand. A wide door and effectual is opened to 
 me, and the Lord is opening my own eyes to the knowledge X 
 of the truth. Your arrival and our great-grandfather’s, 
 (whom, with all the grand-aunts, salute in our name — I know 
 not what they owe us for such accumulated honours) is ex- 
 pected with much anxiety. I feel I shall be much strength- 
 ened by your presence. 
 
 “ Your dutiful Son, 
 
 “Edward Irving.” 
 
 This child — child of a love, and hope, and sorrow not 
 to be described ; celebrated, afterwards, as poet’s child 
 has rarely been, by such 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 gene- 
 rations of his blood. The child was called Edward ; 
 and was to his father, with emphatic and touching 
 verity, “his excellency and the beginning of his strength.” 
 The little tale of his existence sent echoes through all 
 the strong man’s life — echoes so tender and full of such 
 heart-breaking pathos, as I think no human sorrow 
 ever surpassed. In the meantime, however, all was 
 thankfulness in the increased household ; and the 
 patriarchal assemblage of kindred, fatlier, and father’s 
 
212 
 
 PERSONAL CHARITIES. 
 
 father, could have prophesied^ nothing but life and 
 length of days to the child of such a vigorous race. 
 
 Along with all the pubhc 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. Irving’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, unfor- 
 tunately more common among Scotch families, and, 
 indeed, among families of all nations, than it is comfort- 
 able 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 ]iis half-clerical pretensions or unremarkable book. 
 He went to see Irving occasionally, and was observed 
 to faU into that dismal shabbiness 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 
 
A LOST LIFE. 
 
 213 
 
 with a note, which he insisted upon delivering into 
 Irvine’s own hand. The note was from the unfor- 
 
 o 
 
 tunate individual whom we have just described. It was 
 written in utter despair and shame. “ The messenger 
 was the landlord of a ‘ low public house,’ ” says a lady, 
 a relative of Irving’s, then resident in his house, and ac- 
 quainted with the whole melancholy story, “where M 
 
 had been for three days and nights, and had run up a bill 
 which he had no means of paying. It appeared that 
 he had boasted of his intimacy with 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 trilling embarrassment. 
 Edward was puzzled what to do, but at last resolved 
 to go to the house, pay the bill, and bring the unfor- 
 tunate man home. He went, accordingly, desiring me to 
 
 get a room ready. M was very glad to get his 
 
 bill paid, but would scarcely leave the house, till 
 Edward told him he 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-condemnatory strain, begging for forgiveness and 
 assistance.” There is httle need for following out the 
 sickening story. Everywhere there are famihes who 
 
214 
 
 HOSPITALITY. 
 
 liave received the same letters, made the same searches, 
 heard the same humihating 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 be- 
 half 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 domestic society and comfort, to seek him 
 out again and again, pay debts for him, find employ- 
 ments for him, receive his melancholy penitences, and 
 encourage what superficial attempts 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 London 
 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 the thought that London 
 might be a sphere more desirable than Edinburgh or 
 than Annan, such a person bethought him, naturally, of 
 Edward Irving and his hospitable house. The great 
 people who sought the great preacher never interfered 
 
COMMENCEMENT OF THE NEW CHUKCH. 
 
 215 
 
 with the smaller people who sought his assistance and 
 his friendship ; and those who had no possible claim 
 upon liis hospitality got at least his good offices and 
 kind words. 
 
 In the middle of the summer, just two years, as he 
 himself teUs us, from the time of his coming, the foun- 
 dation stone of his new church was laid. It was 
 planned of a size conformable to the reputation of the 
 preacher. This event was celebrated by Irving in 
 three sermons — one preached before, another after, 
 and the third on occasion of the ceremony — in which 
 last he takes pains to describe the disciphne and 
 practice of that Church of Scotland which stood always 
 highest in his affections ; but, at the same time, speaks 
 of the building about to be erected in terms more like 
 those that might be used by a Jew in reference to his 
 temple, or by a Cathohc of his holy shrine, than by 
 Presbyterian lips, which acknowledge no consecration 
 of place. Doubtless the sublimation which everything 
 encountered m his mind, the faculty he had of raising 
 all emotions into the highest regions, and of covering 
 even the common with an ideal aspect unknown to 
 itself, may have raised the expressions of a simple sen- 
 timent of reverence into this consecrating halo which 
 his words threw around the unbuilt church ; but it 
 must not be forgotten that from his very outset a cer- 
 tain priestly instinct was in the man who bade “ Peace 
 be to this house ” in every dwelling he entered, and 
 who gave his benediction, as well as his prayers, like 
 a primitive Pope or Bishop, as, indeed, he felt himself* 
 to be. 
 
 For rest and recreation the little family, leaving Lon- 
 
216 
 
 EVANGELICAL JOURNEY. 
 
 don 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 mis- 
 sionary 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 Birming- 
 ham, Manchester, and Liverpool by invitation, 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. From Birmingham, where he opened a new 
 church and preached the discourse on the “ Curse as to 
 Bodily Labour,” which was pubhshed some time after- 
 wards, he writes to his wife : — 
 
 “ Birmingham, 29th or rather 30th November, 1824. 
 
 dearest Wife, — I am arrived safe, notwithstanding 
 your evil auguries, or rather suggestions, of doubt and un- 
 belief, which the faith of Grod’s providence can alone dissi- 
 pate, and the assurance that I am about our Father’s business; 
 
 and I have found a home here at the house of Dr. J , my 
 
 father’s adjoining neighbour, and my very warm friend, into 
 whose heart 1 pray the Lord I may sow some spiritual seed in 
 return for his temporal benefits, for, as yet, he is in the dark- 
 ness of Unitarianism. Nevertheless, they have family prayers, 
 at which I this night presided, and while I sought I could 
 not find to avoid in my prayers the matters in dispute be- 
 tween us, but was constrained, as it were, by superior power 
 to make cordial testimony to our risen and reigning Lord, 
 our Saviour and our Giod. 
 
 “ I have seen the Committee, and find all things looking 
 
 prosperously Mr. L has had so much distress in 
 
 his family that he was content I should come here, and not to 
 him ; but I go to-morrow afternoon to weep with him and his 
 motherless children. Mrs. L loved you to the end with 
 
BIKMINGHAM. 
 
 217 
 
 a strange and strong love, and it was her greatest earthly 
 desire to have seen you. There is something so uncommon 
 in this that it seems to me to point the way that you should 
 love her children, and do for their sakes what she longed to 
 do for your mother’s child. Therefore, my dear Isabella, do 
 
 write Miss L , and strengthen her, and invite her when 
 
 she can be spared to come and spend some time with us. . . . 
 Be careful of yourself and the little boy — the dear, dear 
 little boy, my greatest earthly hope and joy — for you are 
 not another, but myself — my better and dearer half. I pray 
 the Lord to bless you, and be instead of a friend and husband 
 and father to you in my absence. Let not your backward- 
 ness hinder you from family prayers night and morning. 
 
 hope I shall find time to write to Margaret, our beloved 
 sister, to whom I have much that is affectionate to communi- 
 cate, and something that may be instructive Forget 
 
 me not to Mary*, over whom I take more than a master’s 
 authority, feeling for her all the guardianship of a parent, 
 
 which she may be pleased to permit me in My 
 
 brotherly and pastoral love to the elders of the flock 
 
 Say to Thomas, the moralist, that I love him at a distance as 
 much as at hand — I think sometimes full better, as they say 
 in Annandale. To my Isabella I say all in one word, that I 
 desire and seek to love her as Christ loved the Church. 
 
 ^^Your most affectionate husband, 
 
 Edwakd Ikving.” 
 
 Another brief letter follows from Liverpool, where he 
 also preached for the encouragement and strengthening 
 of the Scotch Church already in existence there. It is 
 naturally to his wife that his letters are now chiefly 
 addressed, and the result is, as will be shortly shown, 
 as wonderful a revelation of heart and thoughts as one 
 human creature ever made to another. By this time the 
 natural course of events seems to have withdrawn him 
 in a great degree from regular correspondence with his 
 
 * One of his servants. 
 
218 
 
 HOME SOCIETY. 
 
 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. The new 
 friends who multiphed around him were of a kind to 
 make a deep impression upon a mind which was influ- 
 enced more or less by all whom it held in high regard. 
 We have already quoted his warm expressions of esteem 
 and affection for Mr. Basil Montagu and his wife. To 
 Coleridge he had also owned his still higher obliga- 
 tions. Another friend, whom his friends consider to 
 have had no small mfluence on Irving, was the Eev. W. 
 Vaughan, of Leicester, an Enghsh clergyman, who is 
 supposed, I cannot say with what truth, to have been 
 mainly instrumental in leading him to some views 
 which he afterwards expressed. His distinguished 
 countryman, Carlyle, referred to with playful affection 
 in the letter we have just quoted, not then resident in 
 London, was his occasional guest and close friend. 
 Good David Wilkie, and his biographer, Allan Cunning- 
 ham, were of the less elevated home society, which 
 again connected itself with the lowest homely levels 
 by visitors and petitioners from Glasgow and Annan- 
 dale. In this wide curcle 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 hght taU^ 
 then indulged in by magazines, breaks involuntarily into 
 pathos and seriousness, in the allusions made in Fraser's 
 Magazine^jevii^ after, to this early summer of his career. 
 
219 
 
 “IN GOD HE LIVED AND MOVED.” 
 
 The laughing philosophers,' over their wine, grow sud- 
 denly grave as they speak of the one among them who 
 was not as other men : — “ In God he hved, and moved, 
 and had his being,” says this witness, impressed from 
 among the lighter regions of hfe 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 hved a hfe unequivocal and 
 not to be mistaken. 
 
 It was while living in the full exercise of aU those 
 charities, 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 hfe. 
 
220 
 
 CHAPTEE 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 con- 
 tained no common events, but only the apotheosis of 
 love and grief accomphshed in it, — he was, notwith- 
 standing 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 main- 
 tained 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 commission, becoming 
 aware, I do not doubt, that his thoughts often ran in 
 channels so distinct from those of other men, 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 
 
Irving’s introduction to the study op prophecy. 221 
 
 naturally, because, in the evangelization of the Conti- 
 nent, all the mystic impersonations of the Apocalypse, 
 — the scarlet woman on her seven hills, the ten-horned 
 beast, all the prophetic personages of that dread unde- 
 veloped drama, — are necessarily involved. The manner 
 in which Irving’s attention had been, some short time 
 before, specially directed to the study of prophecy, is 
 however too interesting and characteristic to be passed 
 without more particular notice. Several years before, 
 Mr. Hatley Trere, one of the most sedulous of those 
 prophetical students who were beginning to make 
 themselves known here and there over the country, 
 had propounded a new scheme of interpretation, for 
 which, up to this time, he had been unable to secure 
 the ear of the religious public. Hot 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 sufficient to gain a hearing, to whom he 
 could privately explain and open up his system, its 
 success was certain. When Irving, aU ingenuous and 
 ready to be taught, was suddenly brought into contact 
 with him, the student of prophecy identified liim by an 
 instant intuition. — “ Here is the man ! ” he exclaimed to 
 himself ; and with all the eagerness of a discoverer, who 
 seeks a voice by which to utter what he has found out, 
 he addressed himself to the task of 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 hsten ; and the 
 result was that Mr. Frere gained a disciple and exposi- 
 tor ; and that an influence fatal to his future leisure, and 
 
222 
 
 THE FASCINATION OF THAT STUDY. 
 
 of the most momentous importance to his future destmy 
 — which, indeed, it is impossible now to disjoin from the 
 man, or to consider his hfe 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 settle- 
 ment, which he is said to have derived from Cole- 
 ridge. 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 instruction and encouragement of a body of Chris- 
 tian men labouring on behalf of that old Eoman world 
 
 i- 
 
 which has long been the heart and centre of the earth, 
 his mind passed at once into those solemn and myste- 
 rious adumbrations of Providence in which he and 
 many other Christian men have beheved themselves 
 able to trace the very spot, between what was fulfilled 
 and what was unfulfilled, in which they themselves 
 stood. Could such a standing ground be certainly ob- 
 tained, who can doubt that here is indeed the guidance 
 of aU others for any effort of evangehzation ? Irving 
 had no doubt upon the subject. To him the record 
 was distinct, the past apparent, the future to be reve- 
 rently but clearly understood. Superficial pious ad- 
 dresses were impossible to a man who went into every- 
 thing with his whole heart and soul. His Bible was not 
 to him the foundation from which theology was to be 
 proved, but a Divine word, instinct with meaning never 
 
HIS CONSCIENTIOUSNESS IN TREATING HIS SUBJECTS. 223 
 
 to be exliausted, 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 absent from his mind. To the missionaries, ac- 
 cordingly, he brought forth the picture of an apostle ; 
 and opened before the eyes of those who aimed at a 
 re -evangelization of old Christendom a cloudy but 
 splendid panorama of the fate which was about to over- 
 take the sphere of their operations, and all the myste- 
 rious agencies, half discerned in actual presence, and 
 clearly indicated in Scripture, which were before 
 them in that difficult and momentous field. In a man 
 distmguished as an orator this tendency to avoid the 
 superficial and go to the very heart, as he understood 
 it, of his subject, was neither expected nor recognised 
 by the ordinary crowd. In this same spring of 1825, in 
 which he preached his prophetical discourse for the 
 instruction of a society engaged upon the Contment — on 
 the very ground where prophecy, according to his in- 
 terpretation, was to be fulfilled — he also preached for 
 the Highland School Society ; a subject which might 
 have been supposed very congenial to his heart, and in 
 which I have no doubt his audience looked for such 
 glowing pictures of Highland glens and mountains, of 
 primitive faith, and picturesque godliness, the romance 
 of religion, as pious orators, glad of so fluent a topic of 
 declamation, have made customary on such occasions. 
 The orator took no such easy and beaten track. He 
 entered into the subject of education with all the con- 
 scientiousness of his nature, setting it forth fully in a 
 manner which, whatever may be the inevitable expe- 
 diencies to which modern civilisation is driven, must 
 
224 
 
 HABITS OF THOUGHT. 
 
 command the respect and admiration of everybody who 
 has ever thought upon the subject. I am anxious to 
 point out this peculiarity, because I do not think it is 
 one for which Irving, all oratorical and declamatory as 
 he is supposed to have been, gets the honour he deserves. 
 It is not my part to decide upon the right or wrong of his 
 views, especially on such a subject as that of prophecy : 
 I am only anxious to indicate fully a habit of his mind, 
 which the correspondence shortly to be given will illus- 
 trate more fully than anything else can do. When any 
 subject was presented to him his mind immediately 
 ^ carried it away out of the everyday atmosphere into a 
 f world of thought and ideal truth, where practicabilities, 
 much more expediencies, did not enter ; — interrogated it 
 closely to get at its heart ; — expounded it so from the 
 depths, from the heights, from the unseen soul of the 
 matter, that people, accustomed to look at it only 
 from the outside, stood by aghast, and did not know the 
 famihar doctrine which they themselves had put into 
 his hands. This will be found the case in almost every- 
 thing he touches. No sooner does he apply himself to 
 the special consideration of any point than all its hidden, 
 spiritual meanings come gleaming upon his mind. He 
 goes about his daily business always attended by this 
 radiant track of meditation, pondering in his heart 
 through the streets and squares, among the fields, by 
 the way. By close, secret dwelling upon it, tlie ideal 
 soul contained in any intellectual truth gradually warms 
 and glows into regions ineffable before his eyes. Men 
 enough there are in all times — in our time, perhaps, 
 too many — who can expound the practicable. Irvmg’s 
 vocation was of a totally different nature: it was his 
 
SEEMON TO THE CONTINENTAL SOCIETY. 
 
 2-25 
 
 to restore to the enterprises and doctrines of universal 
 Christianity — without consideration of what was prac- 
 ticable or how it could be reahsed — the Divine soul, 
 which use and familiarity perpetually obscure. 
 
 His discourse to the Continental Society, though it 
 did not raise such a commotion as the missionary ora- 
 tion, was still far from palatable to some of his liearers. 
 ‘‘ 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 understand that he had been mis- 
 apprehended, 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 suspected 
 him, oddly enough, of having supported their several 
 views of the matter. At the same time, his heart had 
 gone into the task ; he had found in prophetical inter- 
 pretation a study which charmed him deeply, and had 
 felt himself drawn, as was natural, into a closer, ex- 
 clusive 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 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 partizan in a ministerial garb, and to gratify 
 tlie desires of these servants of Christ, I set forth this 
 publication, on which I pray the blessing of God to rest.” 
 
 VOL. I. Q 
 
226 
 
 BABYLON AND INFIDELITY FOREDOOMED. 
 
 He entitled the book, Babylon and Infidelity Fore- 
 doomed^ and dedicated it, with his usual magnanimous 
 acknowledgment 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 pre- 
 sent time, as foretold in the Book of Daniel and the Apoca- 
 lypse. But being ashamed of my own ignorance, and having 
 been blessed from my youth with the desire of instruction, I 
 dared not to scoff at what I heard, but resolved to consider 
 the matter. More than a year passed before it pleased Pro- 
 vidence to bring us together again, at the house of the same 
 dear friend and brother in the Lord, when you answered so 
 sweetly and temperately the objections made to your views, 
 that I was more and more struck with the outward tokens of 
 a believer in truth ; and I was again ashamed at my own 
 ignorance, and again resolved to consider the matter ; after 
 which I had no rest in my spirit until I waited upon you and 
 offered myself as your pupil, to be instructed in prophecy 
 according to your ideas thereof ; and for the ready goodwill 
 with which you undertook, and the patience with which you 
 performed this kind office, I am for ever beholden to you, 
 most dear and worthy friend. . . . For I am not willing that 
 any one should account of me as if I were worthy to have had 
 revealed to me the important truths contained in this dis- 
 course, which may all be found written in your ‘ Treatise on 
 the Prophecies of Daniel only the Lord accounted me wor- 
 thy to receive the faith of these things which He first made 
 known to you. His more worthy servant. And if He make 
 me the instrument of conveying that faith to any of His 
 Church, that they may make themselves ready for His coming, 
 or to any of the world, that they may take refuge in the ark 
 of His salvation from the deluge of wrath which abideth the 
 
SERMONS ON TUBLIC OCCASIONS. 
 
 227 
 
 impenitent, to His name shall all the praise and glory be 
 ascribed by me, His unworthy servant, who, through mercy, 
 dareth to subscribe himself, your brother in the bond of the 
 Spirit, and the desire of the Lord’s coming, 
 
 ‘^Edward Irving.” 
 
 This opening season of ’25 seems to liave brought a 
 large share of public occupation to the preacher, whose 
 unbounded popularity attracted a crowded audience 
 around him at his every appearance. Another carefid 
 and weighty discourse upon the condition of Ireland, — 
 not, perhaps, specially adapted to a moment when iniicli 
 of the generous feeling of the country had been roused, in 
 the discussions upon Catholic Emancipation, to take the 
 part of that portion of our countrymen who lay under 
 disabilities so grievous ; but full of truth, which expe- 
 rience has proved, — was preached at the instance of the 
 Hibernian Society. He is also recorded to have made 
 a striking and very characteristic appearance, at a meet- 
 ing of the same Society, not long before. The power of 
 agitation in that period, so much more strongly political 
 than this, was at its height ; and that wonderful and 
 crafty leader, who won the Cathohc battle almost single- 
 handed, and ruled his island for a lifetime with auto- 
 cratic sway, already threw his shadow even upon such 
 an institution as the Irish Bible Society. Stanch 
 Orangemen on their native soil would undoubtedly 
 have defied such an influence with double pertinacity 
 and zeal ; but metropolitan meekness counselled other- 
 wise. An English clergyman of high standing and 
 well-known character called for Irving to drive him to 
 the meeting which was to be held under these cir- 
 cumstances, and made a cautious attempt to tutor the 
 
228 
 
 HIBERNIAN BIBLE SOCIETY. 
 
 uncompromising orator. “Take us to one of your 
 Highland glens,” said the well-meaning peacemaker, 
 “ and give us a picture of the simphcity and hohness of 
 hfe there produced by the study of the Word.” Irving, 
 who had not adopted that natural and easy, superficial 
 way of pleading the cause of his own countrymen, 
 asked with some astonishment why his subject was 
 to be thus prescribed to him. The answer was one 
 of all others least hkely to tame the habitual fervour 
 and openness of the Scotch preacher. Some of 
 O’Connell’s followers were to be present at the meet- 
 ing, as a check upon over-bold criticism ; and it had 
 been decided that nothing was to be said which 
 could provoke the interference of these self-appointed 
 moderators. It is unnecessary to say that Irving alto- 
 gether repudiated this arrangement, and came under 
 no engagement to make the innocent pastoral address, 
 meaning nothing, which was suggested to him. The 
 meeting was very noisy and much disturbed, as had 
 been expected. One of the speakers, a Mr. Pope, who 
 had come from Ireland warmly indignant at the petty 
 priestly artifices by which the circulation of the Bible 
 was hindered, was so often interrupted, that at length 
 the Chairman, giving way to the violence of the un- 
 welcome visitors, added his authority to the outcries, 
 and requested the speaker to sit down. This silenced 
 witness was followed by other speakers more com- 
 placent, who amused the audience with sentiment 
 and mild description, such as had been vainly sohcited 
 from Irving. Wlien his time came, as one of his audi- 
 tors relates, he advauced, in all the strength of his 
 imposing height and demeanour, to the front of the 
 
AN AFTERNOON AMONG THE POOR. 
 
 229 
 
 platform, and ‘‘lifting up a heavy stick which he carried, 
 struck it on the floor to give additional emphasis to his 
 words. ‘ I have been put to shame this day,’ said the 
 indignant orator ; ‘ I have had to sit still and see a 
 servant of God put down in a so-called Christian 
 assembly for speaking the simple truth. Ichabod! 
 Ichabod ! the glory is departed ! ’ ” The speech that 
 followed this bold beginning was not interrupted ; and, 
 when the meeting was over, the orator was surrounded 
 by a crowd of excited and applauding hearers, shower- 
 ing thanks and congratulations upon him. 
 
 From this scene another witness leads us to one very 
 different and more congenial to the most human-hearted 
 of men. An account of “ an afternoon spent in his 
 society among the poor of London,” which appeared 
 some years since in the pages of the Free Church 
 Magazine^ gives a quaint picture at once of the dis- 
 abihties 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 BiUingsgate, 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 reputa- 
 tion, whom critics had assailed with accusations of 
 indifference to the poor, immediately consented to give 
 his aid in this humble mission. He went with them, 
 accordingly, through the district. In the first house 
 he left the explanation of their errand to his female 
 clients, and speedily discovered the mistake these good 
 people made. The scene is full of comic elements, and one 
 can scarcely refrain from imagining the appearance that 
 
230 
 
 IRVING’S ‘‘WAY.” 
 
 such a group must have presented : the city ladies, im- 
 portant 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.” 
 Tlie city ladies -were confounded. They had honestly 
 intended to benefit the poor, very, very distantly re- 
 lated to them by way of Adam and the forgotten 
 i patriarchs — but the cheerful brotherhood of the man 
 I who had blessed the bread of the starving Glasgow 
 i weavers was as strange to them as if he had spoken 
 HebreAV instead of English. “ Why, Mr. Irving,” ex- 
 claimed one of the ladies when they got to the street, 
 “ you spoke to that woman as if she were doing you a 
 favour, and not you conferring one on her! How could 
 you speak so ? and how could you take up that child 
 on your knee ?” “ The woman,” he rephed, “ does not 
 
 as yet know the advantages which her children will 
 derive from your school ; by-and-by, she will know 
 them, and own her obligations to you ; and in so speak- 
 ing and in blessing her child, I do but follow the ex- 
 
INVITATION TO REMOVE TO EDINBURGH. 
 
 ‘231 
 
 ample of our Lord, who blessed the little ones, the 
 lambs of 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 prehminary of admission. The great 
 preacher lifted the pretty curls in his hand and pleaded 
 for them, but in vain. When they were denied admis- 
 sion at one house, he left his benediction to the unseen 
 people within, and passed on. On the whole, his com- 
 panions did not know what to make of him. Irving’s 
 fashion of visiting “ the poor ” was unknown in Bil- 
 hngsgate. 
 
 Such a junction and contrast of duties throws a 
 singular light upon his full and various life. 
 
 In the early summer a deputation from Scotland, in 
 the persons of two gentlemen, henceforward to be 
 numbered among his warmest and closest friends, Mr. 
 James Bridges, and Mr. Matthew Norman Macdonald, 
 two Edinburgh lawyers, of influence and weight in the 
 Church, came, on a mission of inquiry, to ascertain, 
 apparently, whether the much-distinguished preacher 
 was equally zealous in the performance of his pastoral 
 duties, whether he was worthy of the honour of being 
 called to a church in Edinburgh, and whether he would 
 be disposed to accept such an invitation. Irving’s de- 
 termination, lauded by Dr. Chalmers, of not suffering 
 his hours of study to be interrupted by visitors, kept 
 these gentlemen wandering about the unsuggestive 
 streets of Pentonville tiU after two o’clock, when he 
 received visitors. The inquirers returned not only 
 satisfied but dehghted, and stimulated the church 
 which had sent them out as laudable spies, to discover 
 
232 
 
 HIS ANSWER. 
 
 not the nakedness but the wealth and vigour of the 
 land, to send another deputation, expressly asking Mr. 
 Irving to become their minister. His reply to this 
 application I have been favoured with by Dr. Douglas 
 Maclagan, in whose possession the letter now is : — 
 
 “ My beloved Bkethren in the Gtospel of Christ, — I re- 
 joice to have received by your hands and from your lips the 
 assurance that such a grave and spiritual body of Christians 
 as the eldership of St. Cuthbert’s, Edinburgh, have judged 
 me a fit person to be presented to the people of Hope Place 
 Chapel, as one worthy to exercise the ministry of word and 
 sacrament over them, if they should see it good and profitable 
 to call me — the more when I consider the character and 
 gifts of my dear friend and brother in the ministry*, who has 
 
 been called from among them to labour elsewhere All 
 
 that has been said on both sides has sunk deep into my mind, 
 and I have sought grace to enable me to come to a wise and 
 righteous determination; and, after much thought and 
 anxiety, T have expressed the state of my feelings towards 
 both sides in a letter to my session and people, of which 
 there is enclosed an exact copy. 
 
 “ You will perceive, from that’ letter, by what strong and 
 enduring ties I am drawn towards my native country and 
 my beloved Church, and by what present stronger, though 
 not so enduring, ties I am held here. I have no doubt the 
 time is coming when the Spirit will press me to declare in 
 the ear of the Church of Scotland that truth which I am 
 bound at present to deliver here, until I shall have finished 
 the burden of it. When that time comes, you will find me in 
 the midst of you ; or, if any emergency should occur before 
 that time to hasten my resolution, it is, I think, to my own 
 country, and to the chief city of it, that I will present myself. 
 
 “You have been faithful to your trust, and are worthy to 
 be the messengers of such a spiritual body. The Lord conduct 
 you on your way to your home, and bring you in peace to 
 
 * The Rev. Dr. Gordon. 
 
Ills MANNER OF LIFE. 
 
 233 
 
 your office in His Church ! And be assured of the communion 
 and fellowship of 
 
 Your brother in the Grospel and in the Eldership, 
 
 ‘‘ Edward Irving.” 
 
 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 hved in his house : — “ Mr. 
 Irving’s rule was to see any of his friends who wished to 
 visit him without ceremony at breakfast. Eight o’clock 
 was the hour. Family worship first, and then breakfast. 
 At ten he rose, bade every one good-bye, and retired to 
 his study. He gave no audience again till after three. 
 Two o'clock was the dinner 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-cough, 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 
 personages in the kingdom, marching along the Pen- 
 tonville streets with his baby, must have been a spectacle 
 to make ordinary men open their eyes. An amusing 
 personal anecdote, belonging to a similar period, comes 
 from the same authority. His indifierence to money 
 has been visible with sufficient distinctness throughout 
 his life; but, after his marriage, according to a primitive 
 habit most worthy of imitation, he committed the 
 charge of his finances entirely to the prudence of his 
 wife, and carried sometimes only the smallest of coins, 
 sometimes nothing at all, in his own private purse. 
 This habit sometimes brought him into situations of 
 
234 
 
 THE PADDINGTON COACH. 
 
 amusing embarrassment. On one occasion he had left 
 home to visit a member of his congregation somewhere 
 on the line of the New Eoad ; but, finding himself late, 
 took, without considering 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 penni- 
 less. His dismay at the thought was overwhelming, but 
 soon brightened with a sudden inspiration. Looking 
 around him, he artfully fixed upon the most benevolent- 
 looking face he saw, and poured his sorrows into His fel- 
 low-traveller’s ear. “I told him that I was a clergyman,” 
 was the account he gave to his amused home-audience ; 
 ‘‘ that, since I had obtained a wife from the Lord, I had 
 given up all concern 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 pro- 
 pitious, 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 ex- 
 traordinary request, betrayed him ; and the stranger had 
 the honour and satisfaction, for his sixpence, of making 
 the acquaintance of Edward Irving. 
 
 Early in this summer, clouds began to appear in the 
 firmament of the new household. The baby, so joy- 
 fully welcomed and dearly prized, was seized with 
 hooping-cough. And, in the end of June, Mrs. Irving, 
 then herself in a delicate condition of health, accom- 
 panied by her sister, took little Edward down to Scotland, 
 to the peaceful manse of Kirkcaldy, for change of air. 
 
HIS LETTER OP WELCOME TO IIIS WIFE. 
 
 235 
 
 The following letter was written immediately after the 
 departure of the travellers : — 
 
 “ London, Friday Afternoon ; July 1st, 1825. 
 
 “ My 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 I cannot be there to welcome you in person to 
 your father’s house, I send this my representative to take 
 you by the hand, to embrace you by the heart, and say wel- 
 come, thrice welcome, to your home and your country, which 
 you have honoured by fulfilling the duties of a wife and 
 mother well and faithfully — the noblest duties of woman- 
 hood. And while I say this to yourself, I take you to your 
 father and mother, and say unto them: Eeceive, honoured 
 parents, your daughter — your eldest-born child — and give 
 her double 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- 
 tinue so until I remove. To-day I have been busy with my 
 first discourse upon the ‘ Will of the Father,’ which I pray 
 you to study diligently in the Gospel by 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 prece- 
 dency which the will of the Father hath of the preaching of 
 the Son, and how much constant honour you must give to 
 it, in order to be a disciple of Christ. My head is wearied, 
 
 Coleridge, then living at Highgate with his friends the Gillmans. 
 
236 HIS FEELINGS IN RESPECT TO HIS CALL TO EDINBURGH. 
 
 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 con- 
 clude hastily, with my love to our dear parents, brothers, and 
 sisters, and all our kindred. The Lord preserve my wife and 
 
 Your faithful husband, 
 
 Edward Irving.” 
 
 This letter was followed, a week after, by another 
 letter, in which his doubts and inclinations, in respect 
 to the call from Edinburgh — his decision of which 
 question has been already recorded — are fully set forth. 
 The tone of this letter is far from enthusiastic as regards 
 London, notwithstanding his intention of remaining in it. 
 
 . . . “1 have Mr. Paul and Mr. Howden waiting upon me 
 as a deputation from the Kirk Session of the West Kirk, 
 Edinburgh, that I would consent to succeed Dr. Grordon, and 
 I now write to you for your counsel and advice in this matter. 
 Take it into your serious consideration, and seek counsel of the 
 Lord, and write me your judgment. For myself, observe how 
 it is. There is no home here, either to our family or my 
 ministrations, and all the love of my people cannot make it 
 a home. If anything would have rallied the Scotch people 
 to the Church, my notoriety, not to say my talents, would 
 have done it ; and you know how vain it has been. The 
 religious bodies are too bigoted to receive me with any cor- 
 diality. I had wished to preach the Gospel in Edinburgh, 
 though the call has come sooner than I had looked for. I 
 have a desire to meet the anti-christian influence full in the 
 face, and, in God’s help, to wrestle with it. I love the Church 
 of Scotland, and would contend for its prosperity. 
 
 These are weighty considerations. But, on the other hand, 
 it would break the heart of so many dear friends and servants 
 of Christ who have cherished me here. I fear it would dis- 
 perse the flock, and smite down the proposed National 
 Church. I see the victory over my enemies, in and out of 
 the Established Church, to be already at hand, and their 
 advantage likely to be promoted by my continuance. But I 
 
EEASONS FOR REMAINING IN LONDON. 
 
 237 
 
 know not how it is, the considerations on this side of the 
 question do not muster so strong. 
 
 ‘‘ There is a feeling of instability — a sense of insufficiency 
 connected with all one’s undertakings here — I know not what 
 to make of it. I shall consider the matter very maturely. 
 Do you the same, and return me your (opinion) by return of 
 post. Consult also your dear father and mother.” 
 
 The wife’s answering letter does not seem to have 
 been preserved ; and in the next (from which it appears 
 that she had been, as was natural, inclined to the 
 change) he intimates his decision. In the meantime, 
 he had removed from his own solitary home to the 
 hospitable house of Mr. Montagu : — 
 
 “25 Bedford Square; 19th July, 1825. 
 
 * 
 
 My dearest Wife, — On Sunday I desired a meeting of the 
 church and congregation at six o’clock last night, and then 
 laid before them both my resolution to remain amongst them, 
 and the grounds of it ; and I now haste, having completed 
 my morning’s study, to lay before you what I laid before 
 them, that I may have your approbation, which is all that 
 now remains to the full contentment of my own mind. 
 
 The invitation, I said, had three chief reasons to recom- 
 mend it, and by which it still remains on my mind weightily 
 recommended : — First. That so well advocated in your letter, 
 which sunk deep into my thoughts, that it might be the call 
 of Providence to do for Edinburgh what I had been called 
 upon to do for London, and what no one of the ministers of 
 God had done before I came. Secondly. The desire I had to 
 be restored to the communion of the true ministers of Christ 
 and servants of God in the Church of Scotland, who hereto- 
 fore, with a very few exceptions, have estranged me from 
 their confidence. Thirdly. The love which I had to a 
 manageable pastoral charge. On the other hand, three more 
 weighty reasons prevailed with me to remain : — First. Their 
 desire of my ministry, and assurance of co-operation in my 
 official duties, which, going elsewhere, was all to work for. 
 Secondly. The consciousness that I had not yet told half my 
 
238 
 
 SEUMONS ON THE TRINITY. 
 
 message out of the Grospel, and but partially fulfilled my 
 ministry. Thirdly. The desire I had that my countrymen 
 should yet have a little longer trial, and the opportunity 
 which a new church would afford them of returning to the 
 bosom of the Church. Lastly. The strong love which I bore 
 my people, and which made me shrink from any call to de- 
 part but such an one as was very imperious and strong. But 
 while I consented to stay in my present ministry for these 
 weighty reasons, I gave them, at the same time, distinctly to 
 understand, that such a call might be given me as would be 
 able to call me elsewhere ; and that, without a call, if the 
 Spirit moved me, I would certainly go to the world’s end. 
 Having said this much I left the desk, and the people re- 
 mained to consider what was best to be done, and I have but 
 heard imperfectly from Mr. Paul and Mr. Howden, who 
 breakfasted with us this morning, that it was conducted in a 
 good spirit. 
 
 “ I trust that my dear Isabella will approve of what I have 
 done, which I have certainly done by much patient delibera- 
 tion, yet with a strong resolution, and at the same time a 
 high sense and feeling of all the considerations on the other 
 side. The thing has done much good already, and will do 
 much more, chiefly as it has brought out the declaration and 
 understanding on all hands that I may be called away, which 
 the people here had little thought of. Also, that I will stand 
 justified before incredulous Edinburgh by two other witnesses. 
 For I am not to seek as to the true sentiment that is still 
 entertained by the religious part of men there concerning 
 me, and would gladly see it wiped away. 
 
 ‘‘ Last Sabbath I preached in the morning on the subject of 
 the Trinity, showing that the revelation of the Word consisted 
 of three parts — Law, Grospel, and Obedience — which were 
 severally the forms of the Father, the Son, and the Holy 
 Ghost; so that a trinity was everywhere in the Word of 
 God; and I intend to continue the same subject next Sab- 
 bath, and on the following one to show that there are three 
 constant states by which the soul expresses her homage to 
 the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost: — First, prayer; secondly, 
 faith ; and thirdly, activity, which are a trinity in unity with 
 the new man. In the evening I lectured on John sending 
 
OPINIONS IN RESPECT TO MIRACLES. 
 
 239 
 
 his disciples to inquire at Christ of his Messiahship, showing 
 thence how his mind, partaking of the vulgar error, had lost 
 the impression of the outward signs shown at his baptism, 
 and thence arguing the total insufficiency of that manner of 
 demonstration and proof to which the last century hath given 
 such exaggerated importance. I showed that Christ’s action 
 before the messengers, and his message to the Baptist, was a 
 fulfilment of the prophecy in the 61st of Isaiah, which led 
 me to explain the great point, that miracles were nothing but 
 the incarnation or visible representation of the Holy Hhost, 
 as Jesus of Nazareth was of the Word of Grod ; and that, as 
 His word was the will of the Father, so were His works the 
 acts of the Spirit dwelling in Him, and about to proceed from 
 Him. 
 
 “ We were at Allan Cunningham’s last night, where I met 
 with Wilkie. They all desired their love to you and Margaret. 
 Everybody inquires after you, and rejoices in your welfare. 
 You must keep yourself quiet. Let not ceremony or any 
 other cause take hold of your kind heart, and disturb you 
 from necessary quiet. I trust little Edward continues to 
 thrive. Cease not to pray for him and me as for yourself. 
 I see not why we may not pray in the plural number, as if we 
 were present together. I shall keep by eight in the morning 
 and ten at night for my hours of prayer. Oh, Isabella, pray 
 much for me ! I need it much. These are high things after 
 which I strive, and I oft fear lest Satan should make them a 
 
 snare to my soul The Lord protect you all, and save 
 
 you! 
 
 Your affectionate husband, 
 
 “ Edward Irving.” 
 
 “ London ; 25 Bedford Square, August 2d, 1825. 
 
 “ 4tli August : Dies natalis atque fatalis incidit. 
 
 “ ‘ The day of birth and of death draweth nigh.’ 
 
 ‘‘ My dearest Wife, — . ... I have not altered my mind 
 upon the course of my journey, which I will direct forthwith 
 to Kirkcaldy by the steamboat, without passing at the present 
 through the towns in England, which, if all be well ordered, 
 
 lean take upon my return I greatty rejoice that you 
 
 are enjoying the quiet and repose whereof you stand so much 
 
•240 
 
 SACEAMENT OF BAPTISM. 
 
 in need, and that little Edward is thriving daily. The Lord 
 give health and strength to his soul ! I pray yon, my dear 
 Isabella, to bear in mind that he has been consecrated to Grod 
 by the Sacrament of Baptism, whereby Christ did assure to 
 onr faith the death of his body of sin, and the life of his 
 spirit of righteousness ; and that he is to be brought up in 
 the full faith and assurance of the fulfilment of this greatest 
 promise and blessing, which our dear Lord hath bestowed 
 upon our faith; wherefore adopt not the base notion, into 
 which many parents fall, of waiting for a future conversion 
 and new birth, but regard that as fully promised to us from 
 the beginning, and let all your prayers, desires, words, and 
 thoughts towards the child proceed accordingly. For I think 
 that we are all grown virtually adult Baptists, whatever we 
 be professedly, in that we take no comfort or encouragement 
 out of the Sacrament. Let it not be so with you, whom Grod 
 hath set to be a mother in Israel. 
 
 “ Since I wrote, I have passed a Sabbath, when I had much 
 of the Lord’s presence in all the exercises of public worship, 
 and was able to declare the truth with much liberty ; preach- 
 ing in the morning from Eom. viii. 3, 4, and opening the 
 sentence of death which there was in the law, and the re- 
 prieve of life which there was in the work and gospel of 
 Christ, — a subject which I mean to follow up by showing that 
 the reprieve is for the end of our fulfilling the law, which, as 
 an antecedent to the Grospel, is the form of our death, as the 
 consequent of the Grospel is the form of our life, to be per- 
 fected and completed in the state of complete restitution, 
 when Christ shall present His Church without spot to His 
 Father, and shall then resign the mediatorial kingdom. 
 This all deduces itself from the doctrine of the Trinity : the 
 Father is not beloved nor obeyed without the Son; but the 
 Son sends forth his Spirit, that we may be enabled to come 
 and obey the Father. So that, unless the law be kept in our 
 continual view, the Spirit hath no end nor operation. In the 
 evening I lectured upon Luke vii. 29, 36, setting forth the 
 three forms of the Pharisees: First, — The Pharisee of the 
 intellect or reason (of whom Edinburgh is the chief city), 
 who contemn faith and form equally. Second, — The Pha- 
 risee of form, who cannot away with spiritual regeneration. 
 
“ORIGINAL STANDARDS.” 241 
 
 Third, — The Spiritual Pharisee, or religious world, who take 
 up notions, and language, and preachers upon second hand 
 from spiritual people, instead of waiting for them directly 
 from the Spirit by the working of faith upon the divine Word. 
 
 I pray the Lord to bless these discourses. 
 
 “ I have agreed with Collins about the publication of the 
 Original Standards of the Churchy concerning which I pray 
 you to say nothing. I shall write my essay on the salt sea 
 where Knox first matured his idea of the Scottish Eeforma- 
 
 tion My dear Isabella, guard against the formalities 
 
 which abound on every side of you. Let me find you grounded 
 and strengthened in the spirit of godliness. For the other 
 book*, it is nearly finished. I have just brought to a close 
 the destruction of Babylon. And I have a part to write 
 upon the things which follow till the revelation of our blessed 
 Eedeemer in the clouds of heaven. Pray Grod that my pen 
 may be guided to truth, and that much profit may flow into 
 the Church from what I write !....! pray the Lord to 
 bless you and Edward continually ; write me, when you can 
 do it without wearying yourself or injuring your health. . . , 
 Say to the patriarch that I have got a noble New Testament, 
 in Grreek, with all the Grlosses and Scholige of the Fathers, 
 with which I delight myself. The Lord bless you all ! Forget 
 not to give my kind regards to Mary, and to encourage her 
 to walk steadfastly in the faith. 
 
 “Yours in one body and soul, 
 
 “ Edward Irving.” 
 
 The publication referred to in the above letter, the 
 Original Standards of the Churchy did not actually ap- i 
 pear till many years later, when it came in the shape, | 
 not of a simple republication, intended for the edification I 
 of all, but as a sharp rebuke and reminder to the Church | 
 of Scotland, between whom and her devoted son a j 
 gulf of separation had grown. It does not, consequently, 
 belong to this period of his history ; but the fact that i 
 
 * Babylon and Infidelity Foredoomed, 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 R 
 
242 
 
 BAPTISMAL KEGENEEATION. 
 
 it had been so long in his mind, and that these docu- 
 ments were recognised by him specially as the confession 
 of his faith, and as containing all the doctrines for which 
 he afterwards suffered the penalties of the Church, is in- 
 teresting and significant. No man in modern times has so 
 much proclaimed the merits of those ancient standards, 
 or so pertinaciously ranged himself under their shelter, 
 as this man, whom the Church which holds them cut 
 off as a heretic. 
 
 It will also be seen, from these letters, that Irving had 
 already found his way to those views of baptism whicli 
 he did not pubhsh to the world till some time after. The 
 instincts of fatherhood had quickened his mind in his 
 investigations. He had found it impossible, when his 
 thoughts were directed to this subject, to rest in the 
 vagueness of ordinary conceptions. “ We assuredly be- 
 heve that by baptism we are engrafted in Christ Jesus,” 
 says simply that ancient, primitive confession to which 
 liis heart turned as the clearest, simple utterance, un- 
 controversial and single-minded, of the national hiith. 
 When Irving turned towards that question, he “assuredly 
 believed” the canon he had subscribed at his ordination ; 
 and receiving it with no lukewarm and indifferent be- 
 lief, but with a faith intense and real, came to regard 
 the ordinance in so much warmer and clearer a light 
 than is usual in his Church, that his sentiments seem to 
 liave differed from those of the High Church party of 
 England, who hold baptismal regeneration, by the m erest 
 hair’s-breadth of distinction — a distinction which, indeed, 
 I confess myself unable to appreciate. This intensified 
 and brightened apprehension, which made the ordinance 
 not a sign only, nor a vaguely mysterious conjunction 
 
LITTLE Edward’s illness and death. 
 
 243 
 
 of sign and reality, but an actual, effectual sacrament, 
 rejoiced the new-made father to the bottom of his heart. 
 His soul expanded in a deeper tenderness over the 
 chrisom child, whom he “assuredly believed” to be 
 “ engrafted in Christ Jesus. ” Years afterwards, he makes 
 a touching acknowledgment of gratitude for this insight 
 — given, as in the fervour and simplicity of his heart he 
 believed 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. Montagu, and proceeding vigorously, as has been ^ 
 seen, in his labours — with no serious fears respecting 
 the boy who was so dear to his heart, of whom he had 
 received comforting news. In tlie beginning of Sep- 
 tember, he went to Scotland to join his wife, wdio 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 permitted ever again, in life, 
 to behold her first-born, little Edward lingered out the 
 troubled moments, and died slowly in his father’s 
 agonised sight. The new-born infant was baptized on 
 Sunday, the 9th October, for a consolation to their ^ 
 hearts; and on the 11th, her brother died. Dr. Martin, 
 of Kirkcaldy, writing to his father — the venerable old 
 man wlio had baptized little Edward, his descendant 
 
244 
 
 SORROW AND CONSOLATION. 
 
 of the fourth generation — 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 applied, but the 
 force of which, at the moment, was very striking, when 
 he saw all about liiin 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 concerning him, to surrender him wholly to God 
 
 — to consider him as not their child, but God’s 
 
 Wlien 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 Avish to see another do.’ — 
 Blessed be the Holy Name ! David will tell you that 
 the little Margaret Avas received into the Church Ausible 
 
 on Sabbath afternoon I should have said, that 
 
 Avhen assembled to worship as a family, after all Av^as 
 over, Mr. Irving, before I began to pray, requested 
 leave to address us ; and he addressed us, all and seA^eral, 
 in the most affectionate and impressive manner. The 
 Lord bless and fix his words ! In testimony of his 
 gratitude for the consolation afforded him and his wife, 
 he has gone out to visit and comfort some of the 
 afflicted around us.” 
 
 The manner in Avhich Irving himself announced this 
 first interruption of his family liappiness, Avith an ele- 
 vation and ecstasy of grief Avhich I do not doubt AviU 
 go to the hearts of all who have suffered similar 
 
Irving’s announcement op his child’s death. 245 
 
 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, lltli October, 1825. 
 
 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 Grhost, as He doth to 
 all His faithful servants ; and we are comforted, verily we are 
 comforted. Let the Lord be praised, who hath visited the 
 lowly, and raised them up ! 
 
 If you had been here yesterday and this day when our 
 little babe was taken, you would have seen the stroke of 
 death subdued by faith, and the strength of the grave over- 
 come ; for the Lord hath made His grace to be known unto 
 us in the inward part. I feel that the Lord hath w^ell done 
 in that He hath afflicted me, and that by His grace I shall be 
 a more faithful minister unto you, and unto all the flock 
 committed to my charge. Now is my heart broken — now 
 is its hardness melted ; and my pride is humbled, and my 
 strength is renewed. The good name of the Lord be praised ! 
 
 ‘‘ Our little Edward, dear friend, is gone the way of all the 
 earth ; and his mother and I are sustained by the Prince and 
 Saviour who hath abolished death and brought life and im- 
 mortality to light. The affection which you bear to us, or 
 did bear towards the dear child who is departed, we desire 
 that you will not spend it in unavailing sorrow, but elevate it 
 unto Him who hath sustained our souls, even the Lord our 
 Saviour Jesus Christ ; and if you feel 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 
 
246 
 
 LITTLE EDWARD’S MEMORY. 
 
 all that they are dust, and 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 elder- 
 ship, and all the church and congregation. 
 
 ‘‘ Y^our 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 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 affections. Writing of one of her little ones, 
 some years afterwards, my sister said, ‘ I have said all 
 to you when I tell you that we think her very hke our 
 little Edward ;’ ” and the same lady tells us of Irving’s 
 answer to somebody who expressed the superficial and 
 common wonder, so often heard, that helpless babies 
 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 Ben-Ezra “ Whoso studieth as I 
 
“ A GLORIOUS BUD OF BEING. 
 
 247 
 
 5? 
 
 have done, and reflectetli 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 enjoy- 
 ment and service of our dear Lord), will rather marvel 
 how the growth of that wonderful creature, which put 
 forth such a glorious bud of being, should come to be 
 so cloaked by the flesh, cramped by the world, and 
 cut short by Satan, as not to become a winged seraph ; 
 will rather wonder that such a puny, heartless, feeble 
 thing as manhood should be the abortive fruit of the 
 rich bud of childhood, than think that childhood is an 
 imperfect promise and opening of the future man. 
 And therefore it is that I grudged not our noble, 
 lovely child, but rather do delight that such a seed 
 should blossom and bear in the kindly and kindred 
 paradise of my God. And why should not I speak of 
 thee, my Edward ! seeing it was in the season of thy 
 sickness and death the Lord did reveal in me the 
 knowledge and hope and desire of His Son from 
 heaven ? Glorious exchange ! He took my son to 
 His own more fatherly bosom, and revealed in my 
 bosom the sure expectation and faith of His own 
 eternal Son! Hear season of my life, ever to be 
 remembered, when I knew the SAveetness and fruitful- 
 ness of such joy and sorroAv.” 
 
 I cannot doubt that the record of this infant’s death, 
 and the traces it leaves upon the hfe and Avords of his 
 sorrowful but rejoicing father, will endear the great 
 orator to many sorrowful hearts. So far as I can 
 perceive, no other event of his life penetrated so pro- 
 
248 IRVING VISITS THE SORROWFUL IN KIRKCALDY. 
 
 foundly 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 lifetime, 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 aU 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 aw^ay 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 circumstance 
 we owe a closer and more faithful picture of Irving’s 
 hfe 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. 
 
249 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 JOURNAL. 
 
 The correspondence wliich follows needs neither in- 
 troduction nor comment. No one who reads it will 
 need to be told how remarkable it is. It was Irving’s 
 first long separation from his wife, and his heart was 
 opened and warmed by that touch of mutual sorrow 
 which gives a more exquisite closeness to all love. 
 This perfect revelation of a man’s heart, and of a 
 husband’s trust and confidence, is given by permission 
 of the remaining children of his house. It will be 
 seen to begin from the time of his leaving Kirkcaldy, 
 after the sorrows above recorded. 
 
 “ Annan, 18th October, 1825. 
 
 “My dearest Wife, — I am grieved that I should have 
 missed this day’s post, by the awkwardness of the hour of 
 making up the bag at noon precisely, beyond which I was 
 carried, before I knew that it was past, by the many spiritual 
 duties to which I felt called in my father’s house and my 
 sister’s. . . . But I know my dear Isabella will not grieve 
 half so much on this account as I have done myself. . . . 
 And now, having parted with all the household, 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 
 
250 
 
 WANDEEINGS AMONG THE HILLS. 
 
 side of Peebles Bridge, and I took my solitary way up Gilen 
 Sark, calling at every shepherd’s house along my route, to 
 obtain an opportunity of admonishing mother and children 
 of their mortality, and so proceeded till I set my face 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, obliterating my meagre path, 
 and leaving me in the wildest mountain, wholly at a non- 
 plus, 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 some- 
 thing; where, forgathering with a shepherd, I got directions, 
 and set my breast against Black-house heights, and reached 
 my old haunts on Douglas Burn, where, in answer to the 
 apostolic benediction which I carried everywhere, I received 
 a kindly offer of tea, night’s lodging, then a horse to carry 
 me through the wet, all of which in my haste refusing, 
 I took my way over the rough grounds which lie between 
 that and Dryhope by Loch St. Mary. My adventures 
 here with the Inverness-shire herds and the dogs of Dryhope 
 Tower (a perfect colony, threatening to devour me with open 
 mouth), I cannot go into, and leave it to the discourse 
 of the lip. Here I waded the Yarrow at the foot of the 
 loch, under the crescent moon, where, finding a convenient 
 rock beneath some overhanging branches which moaned and 
 sighed in the breeze, I sat me down, while the wind, sweep- 
 ing, brought the waters of the loch to my feet ; and I paid 
 my devotions to the Lord in His own ample and magnificent 
 temple ; and sweet meditations were afforded me of thee, our 
 babe, and our departed boy. My soul was filled with sweet- 
 ness. ^ I did not ask for a sign,’ as Colonel Blackadder 
 says ; 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 
 
AN APOSTOLICAL JOURNEY. 
 
 251 
 
 looked before in my eye, — as if she bad been washed in dew, 
 which, speedily clearing off, she looked so bright and beauti- 
 ful ; and on the summit of the opposite hill a little bright 
 star gleamed upon me, like the bright, bright eye of our 
 darling. Oh, how I wished you had been with me to partake 
 the sweet 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 cot- 
 tage, and cold reception at the farm-house, I must also be 
 silent, till the living pen shall declare them unto you. Only, 
 I had trial of an Apostolic day and night, and slept sweetly, 
 after blessing my wife and child. Next day I passed over to 
 the grave of J^oston, 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 Oeorge, who had brought a gig up to Orange, and 
 from that place had crossed the moor to meet me ; and by re- 
 turning upon his steps, we reached home about eleven o’clock. 
 But such weather ! I was soaked, the case of my desk was 
 utterly dissolved, and the mechanical ingenuity of Annan 
 is now employed constructing another. But I am well, very 
 well ; and for the first time have made proof of an Apostolical 
 journey, and found it to be very, very sweet and profitable. 
 Whether I have left any seed that will grow, the Lord only 
 knows. 
 
 “ Alany, many are the tender and loving sympathies towards 
 you which are here expressed, and many the anxious wishes 
 for your welfare and hope of seeing you, when, without danger, 
 
 you can undertake it I shall never forget, and never 
 
 repay, the tender attentions of all your dear father’s house- 
 hold to me and mine. The Lord remember them with the 
 love He beareth to His own. I affectionately, most affection- 
 ately, salute them all The Lord comfort and foster 
 
 your spirit. The Lord enrich our darling, and make her a 
 Mary to us 
 
 “ Your most affectionate husband. 
 
 “ Edward Irving.” 
 
252 
 
 ANNAN. 
 
 “ Carlisle, 21st October, 1825. 
 
 “ My dear 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 me, and, I trust, not without 
 faith and love towards Grod. Mr. Fergusson and Margaret 
 and the two eldest hoys came down from Dumfries on Wed- 
 nesday, and added much to our domestic enjoyment, which, 
 but for the pain of parting so soon, was as complete as ever 
 I had felt it ; for, though my heart 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 Grod 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 
 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 d^esires solitude, he says, and hates men. 
 
 “ Your short pencilled note was like honey to my soul; and 
 though I have not had the outpouring of soul for yon, 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 be 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 encourage- 
 ment, and the sustenance of your unworthy head. Eest you, 
 my dear, and be untroubled till the Lord restore your health ; 
 then cease not to meditate upon, and to seek the improve- 
 ment of our great trial, which may I never forget, and as oft 
 as I remember, exercise an act of submission unto the will of 
 God. This is written at the fire of the public room among 
 my fellow-travellers. The Laird of Dornoch, Tristram 
 Lowther the wilfid, 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.” 
 
INCIDENTS OF A STAGE-COACH JOURNEY. 
 
 233 
 
 ‘‘ Myddelton Terrace, 25tli Octob'er, 1825. 
 
 “My dear Wife, beloved in the Lord, — I bless you and our 
 little child, and pray that the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ 
 may be with you and all the house. 
 
 “ I reached London late (eleven o’clock) on Saturday night, 
 by the good preservation of Grod, — to which, when I sought 
 at times to turn the miuds of my fellow-travellers, I seemed 
 unto them as one that mocked ; but though we were a grace- 
 less company, we were preserved by the Lord. On our journey 
 there occurred nothing remarkable except one thing which, 
 for its singular hospitality, I resolved to recount to you. Our 
 road lay through Eutlandshire, and half way between Upping- 
 ham and Kettering, there appeared before us, on the top of a 
 hill, an ancient building, but not like any castle which I had 
 ever seen before, — being low and irregular, and covering a 
 deal of ground, and built, you would say, more for hospitality 
 and entertainment than strength. I make no doubt, from 
 the form of the structure, it is as old as the Saxon times, and 
 belonged to one of those franklins of whom Walter Scott 
 speaks in ‘ Ivanhoe.’ .... Now mark, when our road, swing- 
 ing up the hill, came to the gate of this mansion, which was 
 a simple gate, — not a hold, or any imitation of a hold, of 
 strength — to my astonishment, the guard of the mail descended 
 and opened the gate, and in we drove to the park and gate 
 of the castle, where they were cutting wood into billets, 
 which were lying in heaps, for the sake of the poor in the 
 village beneath the hill. One of these billets they laid in the 
 wheel of the coach, for the hill is very steep ; and while I 
 meditated what all this might mean, thinking it was some 
 service they were going to do for the family, out came from a 
 door of the castle a very kindly-looking man, bearing in a 
 basket bread and cheese, and in his hand a pitcher full of 
 ale, of which he kindly invited us all to partake, and of which 
 we all partook most heartily, for it was now past noon, and 
 we had travelled far since breakfast — from Nottingham. . . . 
 So here I paid my last farewell to ale, and am now a Nazarite 
 to the sense. Oh, that the Lord would make me a Nazarite 
 indeed from all lusts of the flesh ! . . . . Kemember this hos- 
 pitable lord in your prayers. He is my Lord Sondes, and hLs 
 
254 
 
 ARRIVAL AT HOME. 
 
 place is Kockingham Castle. The Mail-coach hath this privi- 
 lege from him at all.times, and, T understand, during the great 
 fall of snow, he took the passengers in, and entertained them 
 for several days, until they were able 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 meditate 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 when I thought that a spirit 
 calling me father, and thee mother, might now be ministering 
 at His throne. I do not remember ever being so uplifted in 
 soul. Yesterday I travailed much in spirit for the people, 
 and preached to them with a full heart ; that is, compared 
 with myself ; but measured by the rule of Christian love, how 
 poor, how cold, how sinful ! 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 I to be yours, according to my ability ? I assure you, all 
 
 * Tliis was one of two brothers, Spaniards, the elder of whom 
 liad been abbot of a monastery, and had more than once been 
 intrusted with missions to Rome. He 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 consequence, into persecution — but died early, 
 leaving his widow to the protection of his devoted brother. 
 
COMMENCEMENT OF JOURNAL-LETTERS. 
 
 255 
 
 the people were glad to see me back again, and condoled 
 with ns with a great grief. The Lord bless them with all 
 consolations in their day of affliction. The church was as 
 usual very crowded, and I had much liberty of utterance 
 
 granted me of the Lord I desire my love to your 
 
 dear father and mother, and my most dutiful obedience as a 
 son of their house. My brotherly affection to all your sisters, 
 who were parents to our Edward ; and to our brothers, who 
 loved him as their own bowels. Oh, forget not any of 
 you the softening chastisement of the Lord. Walk in His 
 fear, and let your hearts be comforted. 
 
 “ Your most affectionate husband and pastor of your soul, 
 
 “ Edward Irving.” 
 
 “ Say to Mary : ‘ Pray for the Comforter, even the Spirit of 
 truth, which proceedeth from the Father.’” 
 
 After bis arrival in London, his letters take the form 
 of a journal, commenced as follows : — 
 
 “ Let me now endeavour to express, for the informa- 
 tion of my dear wife, and for her consolation under 
 our present sore trial, and for tlie entertainment of her 
 present separation from me, and the gratification of all 
 her spousal afiections, 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. 
 
 “ 2G^A. — This morning I arose a little after seven 
 o’clock, in possession of my reason and of my health, 
 and not without aspirations of soul towards the com- 
 munion of God ; but poor and heartless when com- 
 pared with those experiences of the Psalmist, whose 
 
256 
 
 MORNING WORSHIP. 
 
 prayers prevented the dawning of the morning, 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 
 salvation, in the morning, which is as it were a new 
 resurrection, it was borne in upon my inind that it 
 arose in a great measure from my not realising with 
 abiding constancy the Mediator between me and God, 
 but breaking through, as it were, to commune with Him 
 in my 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 unre- 
 deemed by the Captain of my salvation, who will be 
 acknowledged 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 assem- 
 bled to prayers in the little library (our family consists 
 at present of Mrs. Flail, her niece, a sweet young woman 
 out of Somersetshire, and a servant maid, and Hall, 
 who is not able to come down stairs till afternoon). Miss 
 Dalzell * and her sister came in to consult me concern- 
 ing the unsuitable behaviour of one of the Sabbath 
 school teachers, who was becoming a scandal unto the 
 rest of the teachers, and had 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 what present comfort the Lord enabled me, 
 I refrained from any positive deliverance, or even hint- 
 ing any idea, till the matter should come before our 
 committee — against which may the Lord grant me and 
 
 * A lady who had been the means of establishing a system of 
 local Sabbath schools. 
 
HISTORICAL READING. 
 
 257 
 
 all the teachers the spirit of wise counsel to meet and 
 defeat this device of the Evil One. How the tares 
 grow up among the wheat in every society, and, alas ! 
 in every heart ! The Lord root them out of my soul, 
 though the pain be sore as the plucking out a right eye 
 or a right hand. After worship and breakfast I com- 
 posed myself to read out of a book of old pamphlets 
 concerning the Eevolution, one which contains a minute 
 journal of the expedition of the Prince of Orange, for 
 the Protestant cause, into England, from the day of his 
 setting out to the day of his coronation ; which, written 
 as it is in a spiritual and biblical style, brought more 
 clear convictions to my mind that tJiis passage of history 
 is as wonderful a manifestation of God’s arm as any 
 event in the history of the Jews ; being the judgment 
 of the Stewarts, the reward of the Orange house, 
 the liberation of the sealed nation from its idolatrous 
 oppressors, and the beginning of the humiliation of 
 Prance, which went on for a century and was consum- 
 mated in the Eevolution, of which the remote cause 
 was in the expensive wars of Louis XIY., exhausting the 
 finances, and causing Louis XVI. to be a ‘ raiser of 
 taxes,’ according to Daniel’s prophecy. Oh, that some 
 one would follow the history of the Christian Church, 
 and embody it in chronicles in the spirit of the books 
 of Samuel ! There is no presumption, surely, in giving 
 a spiritual account of that which we know from the 
 prophecies to be under spiritual administration. After- 
 wards I addressed myself to Bishop Overall’s Convoca- 
 tion book, concerning the government of the Catholic 
 Church and the kingdoms of the whole world, which 
 digests, under short chapters, the history of God’s reve- 
 VOL. I. s 
 
258 
 
 BISHOP OVEEALL’s CONVOCATION BOOK. 
 
 lation, 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 govern- 
 ment, ‘ that all power is derived from the people, and 
 held of the people for the people’s good,’ is in truth the 
 basis of all revolution and radicalism, and the dissolu- 
 tion of all government ; and that governors and judges, 
 of whatever name, hold their place and authority of 
 God for ends discovered in His Word, even as people 
 yield obedience to laws and magistrates by the same 
 highest authority. Also it pleased me to find how late 
 sprung is the notion among our levelling dissenters, 
 that the magistrate hath no power in the Church, and 
 how universal was the notion among the reformers and 
 divines that the magistrate is bound to put down idol- 
 atry and will-worship, and provide for the right re- 
 ligious instruction of the people. That subject of 
 toleration needs to be reconsidered ; the liberals have 
 that question wholly their own way, and therefore I 
 know that there must be 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 de^, 
 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 be- 
 sought me, as indeed have many, to go and live with 
 him ; but nothing shall tempt me from this sweet soh- 
 
“idolatry of the memory. 
 
 55 
 
 259 
 
 tude of retirement, and activity of consolation, and 
 
 ministry to the afflicted When he was gone I 
 
 went forth upon my outdoor 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 dehvered 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 imphcit obedience 
 to the will of God, I hastened to proceed, and was 
 richly rewarded in an interview with the mother and 
 daughter, wherein my mouth was opened, as was their 
 heart, and I trust seed was sown which will bear fruit. 
 Then I returned home through the churchyard, full of 
 softness of heart Upon my return home I ad- 
 
 dressed myself to a discourse upon the text, ‘ To me to 
 five 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 affection, which I now close with 
 the deep closing knell of St. Paul’s sounding twelve in 
 my ear. My beloved Isabella, you are sleeping upon 
 your pillow ; the God of Jacob make it rich and 
 
260 
 
 DEVOTION AND STUDY. 
 
 divine as the pillow of Padanaram ! My little darhng, 
 thou art resting on thy mother’s bosom ; the Lord 
 make thee unto us what Isaac was to Abraham and 
 Sarah ! Farewell, my beloved ! 
 
 ‘‘21th 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 began the day with a sweet exercise 
 of private devotion, wherein the Lord gave me more 
 than usual composure of soul ; and having descended, 
 we read together the fourth chapter of Job, and prayed 
 earnestly that the Lord would enable us to fnlfil His 
 will ; at and after breakfast I read the seventy-thAd 
 Psalm in Hebrew, and in the Greek Hew Testament 
 the first chapter of Hebrews. After which I went to 
 my sohtary 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 em- 
 ployed myself in committing to memory some Hebrew 
 roots. Having returned to my study, I addressed my- 
 self to read two or three additional chapters and canons 
 in the Convocation book, and am a good deal shaken 
 concerning the right of subjects to take arms against 
 their sovereign. Thereafter I laboured at my dis- 
 course, in the composition of which I find a new style 
 creeping upon me, whether for the better or for the 
 worse I know not ; but this I know, that I seek more 
 V 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 dehghts me with its 
 simplicity. I had a call from Mr. M , and Hr. 
 
VISIONS OF THE NIGHT. 
 
 261 
 
 M with him. I was enabled to be very faithful, 
 
 and I trust with some good effect Then I went 
 
 to church to meet my young communicants, and the 
 spiritual part of my people. But of all that passed, 
 sweet and profitable, I am unable to write, with diffi- 
 culty forming my thoughts into these feeble words. 
 The Lord send refreshing sleep to my dear wife and 
 little babe, and to His servant, who has the satisfaction 
 of having wearied himself in His service. Farewell I 
 “ 28^A October^ Thursday . — This day, my best beloved, 
 has been to me a day of activity and not of study, 
 feeling it necessary 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 dis- 
 appointed with the sad reality ; and having arisen, I 
 addressed myself to the cleansing of body and soul, 
 and especially besought the Lord for simple and im- 
 plicit obedience to His holy will, of which prayer, 
 methinks, I have this day experienced the sweet and 
 gracious answer. At family prayers and breakfast 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 disposed that all other means have failed ; 
 Mr. Thompson, the preacher who visited us at Kirk- 
 caldy, and came to present me with his little religious 
 novel of The Martyr., a tale of the first century; 
 
262 
 
 BEEAKFAST PAETY. 
 
 opus per difficile; Mr. M , curate of our parish of 
 
 Clerkenwell, who came to commune with me concern- 
 ing Sottomayor 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 Aln- 
 wick, four years an inmate of Pears’ house*, a Christian 
 hkewise, 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 
 
 * The school-house at Abbotshall, Kirkcaldy, referred to in 
 Chapter IV. 
 
A DAY IN THE CITY. 
 
 263 
 
 your father found cool as the refreshing zephyrs, there 
 were four Greeks, negotiating with Alexander, by the 
 universal language of the exchange, ' the ten digits, for 
 one other common sign had they not. They were small, 
 strong, well-built fellows, turbaned, with black hair 
 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, 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 dehghtfully to his 
 
 excellent wife I gathered the family together, 
 
 and having spoken to them, we had a season of prayer. 
 
 From whence I proceeded to Mr. L , in order to 
 
 exhort him and his wife concerning their children, and 
 especially concerning the Sacrament of Baptism, which 
 they sought for the youngest, two months old. They 
 are two saints, as I judge, and our communing was 
 sweet. Thence I passed to Whitecross Street, in order 
 
 to visit an old couple, Alexander M and his wife 
 
 (he whom we got into the pension society). They are 
 sadly tried with two sons, one of whom has fits of 
 madness ; the other, according to his father’s account, 
 " has caught the fever of the day,’ become infidel, which 
 he teUs 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 Spamsh 
 
264 
 
 BOOK-STALLS. 
 
 translation of Doddridge’s ‘ Eise and Progress ; ’ and 
 after much sweet discourse — for, dear Isabella, he 
 proves well — his wife came up, and he interpreted be- 
 tween us. She is perplexed most to give up the honour 
 of the Virgin — I should say the idolatry of the Virgin. 
 I prayed with them, as in every other place, and has- 
 tened home, expecting letters from my Isabella, which 
 I found not, at Fenton viUe. 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 hke water to my soul. But one 
 o’clock has struck. Wilham Hamilton came at six, 
 when we went to Sir Peter’s After which, re- 
 
 turning home with sweet discourse, I assembled my 
 family, and when I prayed there wept one, I know not 
 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 bless- 
 ing on my faithful servant, and a son and brother’s 
 upon aU your house, — I go to commit myself to the arms 
 of Him who slumbers not nor sleeps. Farewell. 
 
 “ Walthamstow^ 2^th^ Friday . — This morning, my 
 dear Isabella, I excused myself a little longer rest, by 
 the lateness of my home-returning last night and my 
 weariness, which you vdU observe is not right, for un- 
 less there be some fixed hour there can be no regu- 
 larity, of which the great use is to form a restraint upon 
 our wilfulness. Moreover, I always find that the work of 
 
CHRISTIAN COUNSEL. 
 
 265 
 
 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 
 meditate 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 children spared to 
 him, and daily bread furnished out to them ; therefore, 
 he ought not so sadly to grieve himself. .... I 
 addressed myself to my main occupation of preparing 
 food for my people, beginning a lecture upon the first 
 three verses of the eighth chapter of Luke, which I 
 sought to introduce by giving a sketch, chiefly taken 
 from the preceding chapter, of what 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 im- 
 plements and walk over to Walthamstow, that I might 
 liave 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 I 
 road through the park, by which you and I and dear | 
 Edward might oft walk out of a summer eve to see 1 
 our friends ; and now httle Edward and our esteemed 
 friend are in the dust. Be it so. I praise the Lord for 
 
266 
 
 IN FAINTNESS AND FERVOUE. 
 
 His goodness, 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 advance, and not to go back How, 
 
 my dearest, how glad should we be that the fresh, free 
 air of our house was eminently serviceable to HaU, 
 with whom it might have gone very hard in his con- 
 fined place. The servant is now about to leave us ; 
 and then we are Hall, his wife, his wife’s cousin, three 
 
 most worthy people So be wholly at rest, my 
 
 dearest, concerning my comfort, and regulate your time 
 wholly by consideration for your health and dear 
 Margaret’s. The solitude does me good. It teaches 
 me my blessedness in such a wife, which I have much 
 
 forgotten, but now, thank God, forget not But 
 
 time hastens, and my eyes grow heavy and my concep- 
 tions dull. 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- 
 hds, and when you awake, may you be with Him. Amen. 
 
“ FOR THE CONSOLATION OF EDWARD’S MOTHER.” 267 
 
 “29^A, Saturday . — 
 
 “ ‘ Long have I viewed, long have I thought, 
 And trembling held the bitter draught ; 
 But now resolved and firm I’ll be. 
 
 Since ’tis prepared and mixed by Thee. 
 
 “ ‘ I’ll trust my great Physician’s skill. 
 
 What He prescribes can ne’er be ill ; 
 
 No longer will I groan or pine. 
 
 Thy pleasure ’tis — it shall be mine. 
 
 ‘‘ ‘ Thy medicine oft produces smart. 
 
 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 bid’st me quit 
 This favour’d gourd : and I submit.’ 
 
 “ These lines, my dearest, were brought in for the 
 
 consolation of Mrs. I by the two pious sisters in 
 
 whom our departed friend used to rejoice so much. I 
 thought them so pious and obedient in their spirit 
 that I immediately copied them out for the con- 
 solation of Edward’s mother. Dear Isabella, if the 
 fruit of our marriage had been no more than to give 
 birth and being to so sweet a spirit, I would bless tlie 
 Lord that He had ever given you to my arms. 
 
 “ I am in Dr. M ’s back dining-room, so far on my 
 
 way home. ... So, to place myself in the sweetest com- 
 pany which the world possesses for me, I have taken 
 my pen in hand. I know not how it is, my dear, that 
 
268 
 
 THE SECKET OF FELLOWSHIP. 
 
 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 com- 
 
 munion ; for communion implies one common, not two 
 several minds. The true access and assurance of good 
 society* is the communion of the Holy Spirit, which if 
 you cultivate, my beloved wife, it will be well for you 
 in all relations, and so also for me. As Christ is the 
 author of all true regulation of the mind or under- 
 standing, or reason, so the Holy Ghost is the author of 
 all true love and affection and communion, out of which 
 
 all forms of society spring. But for Miss B , I 
 
 think her, so far as I can judge, a faithful and true dis- 
 ciple of the Lord ; rather, 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, obe- 
 dience in the feehng, obedience in the action. Think 
 much of this, for it is true^ true ! As I came over these 
 fields and marshes, and by that running water, there 
 revived in me some effeminate feelings, which convince 
 me that there is an intimate connection between the 
 softer and more luxurious forms of nature, and the 
 
 * Irving uses this word in the Scotch sense — good compamj^ 
 fellowship. The social faculty is evidently what he means. 
 
INFLUENCE OF THE LANDSCAPE. 
 
 269 
 
 softer passions of tlie mind ; for I am never visited with 
 any such fleshly thoughts when moving through the 
 mountams and wilds of my native country ; and to my 
 judgment this tendency of visible beauty, variety, and 
 richness to cultivate the sensual part of our nature, 
 which obscures the intellectual and moral, is the true 
 account that, being left to themselves without 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 dehvered from these base bonds? When 
 shall I desire to be delivered, and loath them with my 
 soul ? 
 
 “ Dr. M. interrupted me, and I now write by my fire- 
 side, whither the Lord has conducted me again in safety, 
 preparing all things for my reception. I have finished 
 both my discourses, and have had a season of discourse 
 and prayer with the three women whose tears are the 
 tokens of their emotion. Oh, that they may be saved ! . . 
 
 Dr. M pleases me not a little. He is an exact 
 
 but formal man, yet he seems to possess more insight 
 into theology than I had thought. One discourse was 
 profitable, and full of argument. The University ^ makes 
 progress, and the goodnatured Doctor thinks he has mel- 
 lowed them into the adoption of some measure defensive 
 of rehgion. He pleases himself with the thought that 
 Dr. Cox can do everything or anything with Brougham. 
 ‘ The man who thinks he hath Brougham captive hath 
 
 * London University, which was then being established, and 
 which, in consequence of the exclusion of religion, Irving strenuously 
 opposed. 
 
270 
 
 WISDOM AND POWEE. 
 
 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 sim- 
 plicity. Observe, Isabella, that the philosopher, or 
 lover of wisdom, 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 ^ king, he desires 
 wisdom moreover, as Alfred did, and others after, as 
 Justinian and Hapoleon ; but no philosopher ever cared 
 to be a king. Pythagoras, or Plato, or Socrates, for 
 instance. There are no philosophers now-a-days, be- 
 cause they are aU ambitious of power or eminence. 
 Even Basil Montagu is desirous of power, — that is, his 
 own will ; and Coleridge is desirous of power, — that 
 is, the goodwill of others, or the idolatry of himself. 
 The Christian is both priest and king, a minister of 
 wisdom and a possessor of power. The rest I leave to 
 your own reflections. I had much earnest discourse with 
 
 Mr. T , on our way home, concerning his vocation. 
 
 The Lord be his defence. And now, Edward Irving, 
 another day hath passed over thy head, and hast thou 
 occupied the time well ? Art ' thou worthy of to- 
 morrow ? I have passed the day amiss, and am not 
 worthy of to-morrow. I have been in communion 
 with myself. I have loved myself better than another. 
 I know not whether I have been altogether temperate ; 
 and yet will I praise the Lord, for I have prayed oft, 
 and I have written my discourses in a spiritual frame 
 of mind. But, oh ! my meditations, why centre ye at 
 home so much ? How may the Lord prepare me for 
 to-morrow’s holy dawn, and aU my people, and give 
 
rRAYERS FOE THE ABSENT. 
 
 271 
 
 me strength to beget one unto Christ, whom I may 
 call my son ! How doth my sweet daughter, my dear 
 child ? Thou seed of an immortal ! the Lord make 
 light thy swaddling band, and salvation thy swathing ?<s 
 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 my 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 bless- 
 ing of God encompass us aU. 
 
 “ Sunday^ 30^A. — 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 warn- 
 ing, and admonish my dear Isabella how necessary it is 
 for the first opening of our eyelids upon the sweet light 
 of the morning to open the eye of our soul upon its 
 blessed light, which is Christ, otherwise the tempter will 
 
272 
 
 INTERCEDING FOR THE PEOPLE. 
 
 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 hft themselves up to God, they shall 
 find no concentration of spirit upon God, no sweet flow 
 of holy desires, no strong feeling of want to extort sup- 
 plication or groanings of soul — so that we shall have 
 complainings of absence instead of consolations of His 
 holy presence ; barrenness 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. 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 that 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 hu- 
 mihation of soul, for the people seemed bowed down, 
 very stiU and silent, and fuU 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 
 
A SUNDAY’S SERVICES. 
 
 273 
 
 Christ Jesus, from the time that he was begotten from 
 the dead, not upon his former being, from eternity 
 before He became flesh, which was best to be understood 
 from the Gospel by John ; but for the new character 
 which He had acquired by virtue of His incarnation 
 and resurrection, and the relations in which He stood 
 to the Church and to the world, this epistle is the great 
 fountain of knowledge, though, at the same time, it 
 throws much light upon His eternal Sonship and divinity, 
 by the way of allusion and acknowledgment in passing ; 
 that the purpose of the epistle was to satisfy the be- 
 lieving Hebrews, who were terribly assailed and tempted 
 by their unbelieving brethren, and confirm them in the 
 superiority of Christ to Moses as a law-giver, to Aaron 
 and the Levitical priesthood as a priest, and to angels, 
 through whose ministry they believed that the law was 
 given, as the Apostle himself teacheth in his Epistle to 
 the .Galatians. And therefore he opens with great 
 dignity the solemn discourse by connecting Christ with 
 all the prophets, and exalts Him above all rank and com- 
 parison by declaring His inheritance. His workmanship, 
 His prerogative of representing God, of upholding the 
 universe, of purging our sins by Himself, and sitting at 
 the right hand of the majesty on high. Then, address- 
 ing himself to Iris 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, were understood of Messiah, which 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 T 
 
274 
 
 EXPOSITION. 
 
 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 conse- 
 quently have only an apphcation posterior to the time 
 that He was Messiah, and tliat 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 sentimentahsts, 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 everlasting forms of discourse. Tlien, 
 having begun with a prayer that the Lord would make 
 the reading of this Epistle effectual to the confirming 
 their faith in Christ’s character, offices, and work, and 
 possessing them of the efficacy thereof, I concluded 
 with a prayer that the Lord would enlarge our souls by 
 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* 
 
 * This wonderful resume of the day’s services will give a better 
 
SERxMOX. 
 
 27i> 
 
 was from Phil. i. 21 ; to which I introduced their 
 attention by explaining my object to show them the 
 way to possess and be assured of that victory over 
 death, of which, last Lord’s day, I showed them the 
 great achievement (Cor. xv. 55 — 57) ; then, having, 
 in a few sentences, embodied Paul’s sublime dilemma 
 between living and dying, I joined earnest battle with 
 the subject, and set to work to explain the hfe that was 
 Christ, which I drew out of Gal. ii. 20, to consist in a 
 total loss of personality and self, and surrender of aU 
 our being unto EQm who had purchased us with His 
 blood, leaving us no longer ‘ our own ’ — which con- 
 dition of being, though it seem ideal and unattainable, 
 is nothing else than the obedience of the first great 
 commandment, ‘ Thou shalt love the Lord thy God, 
 &c. ; since to be so identified, and at one with Christ, 
 was only to be wholly in love with, and obedient to, 
 the Father. Now this condition of life must insure to 
 all who have reached to it, the same grace at death 
 which Christ, the man Christ, the Messiah, by His 
 resurreetion, 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 Eeve- 
 lations to those who overcome. This gave me great 
 purchase upon the subject, allowing me the whole scope 
 of the contrast between Christ’s humihation and ex- 
 
 idea than any description of the lengthened and engrossing character 
 of these discourses, into which the preacher went with his whole 
 soul and heart : and of the extraordinary fascination which could 
 hold his audience interested through exercises so long, close, and 
 solemn. 
 
276 
 
 EVENING SEEVICE. 
 
 altation ; wliich having wrought according to my gift, 
 I then proceeded to show the vanity of any lower esti- 
 mate of the life which is ‘ Christ ’ by touching many 
 popular errors, such as place it in a sound faith merely, 
 or in a correct morahty, or in a rehgious conformity, 
 against which having opposed the universahty and un- 
 reservedness of obedience, the thoroughness of redemp- 
 tion, and the perfectness of regeneration, I told them, 
 and warned them, of sad misgivings on a death-bed, of 
 desperate fears and hoodwinkings of the conscience, 
 showing them that the behever could not die hard, like 
 the unbeliever, or brutified, like the carnahst ; 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 bap- 
 tized, 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 Mb*. Dinwiddie, and had my chop, 
 which, being eaten with thankfulness, was sweet. Ben- 
 jamin shared with me, and was sadly afflicted to hear of 
 httle 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 
 
ms EESPONSIBILITY AS HEAD OF THE HOUSEHOLD. 277 
 
 nations, in God’s holiness ; . . . . I observed how it 
 was, that idolatry in the people and true piety in the 
 king, were found together ; even as, among the Eoman 
 Catholics, you have among the priests singular saints, 
 while the body of the people are rank and gross idola- 
 ters The lecture was upon Luke xiii. 1 ; when 
 
 I sought, first, to give the character of our Lord’s minis- 
 try in their towns and villages, deriving it from the 
 specimen of JSTain, and other fragments from the pre- 
 ceding pages, its munificence of well-doing, its pubhc 
 discourses, sifting and sounding the hearers, its private 
 ministrations in houses and famihes, improving each to 
 the justification and recommendation of a higher kind 
 of ministry than what presently prevails among us. . . 
 Such, dear, hath been my employment this day, of which 
 I give you this account before I sleep, that you may be 
 
 edified The Lord be gracious mito you, and to 
 
 our little babe, and to our faithful servant, for He re- 
 gards me accountable for all my household. Therefore 
 I exhort you all to hohness and love. The Lord re- 
 unite us all in peace and blessedness. 
 
 “ Monday^ 31^^ 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 hiflamed spirit, and to 
 what degradation that spirit is reduced which doth not 
 beat its weary breast against the narrow cage which con- 
 fineth it. But to fret and consume away with struggles 
 against the continent flesh, is rather the part of discon- 
 tented and proud spirits, than of those who are en- 
 lightened in the faith of Christ, to whom the encum- 
 
‘278 
 
 AT HOME. 
 
 brance which weighs them down is a constant me- 
 morial of the resurrection, and by the faith of the 
 resurrection, soothed down into patience and content- 
 ment. Besides, the bodily life is to them the period of 
 destinies so infinite, and the means of charities so en- 
 larged, that it is often a matter of doubt and question 
 with them, as with St. Paul, whether it is better to 
 depart and be with Christ, which is far better, or to 
 remain in the 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 com- 
 munion. When I came down to breakfast, my table 
 
 was spread with the welcome news of Anne P ’s 
 
 merciful dehvery, which Mr. M had come to tell 
 
 me of, but not finding me, had written out. Sottomayor 
 was waiting for me, and joined with us in our morning 
 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, wiU be obtained for him by that merciful 
 Providence which has watched over his wife and him. 
 By-the-by, I had taken upon me the task of inquiring, 
 while in the north, what opening Edinburgh presented 
 for his brother, the soldier, which my various unforeseen 
 duties hindered me from fulfilhng. Would you give 
 that in trust to some one and let me know ? I think 
 Sottomayor, the priest, is truly confirmed in the faith, 
 and I have good reason to think that the soldier is 
 finding relief for the multitude of his doubts. There 
 
SCOTTISH ADVENTUREKS. 
 
 279 
 
 came also to breakfast with me, a Mr. M and a 
 
 Mr. C (I think), of neither of whom I know any- 
 
 thing, except that the former had met me in Glasgow. 
 He has come to this town on adventure, hke so many 
 of our countrymen, and came to me in his straits to 
 help him to a situation, leading with him, or being led 
 by, the other lad. I thought it hard enough to be by so 
 slight a thread bound to so secular a work ; but look- 
 ing to the lad, and seeing in him an air of seriousness 
 and good sense, and thinking of his helplessness, I 
 felt it my duty to encourage him ; and though I could 
 not depart 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 occupied 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 countrymen ; and though it may be 
 successful in bringing them to what they seek, a 
 fortune and an estabhshment in the world, it is gene- 
 rally unsuccessful in increasing them in the riches of 
 the kingdom, in which they become • impoverished 
 every day, until they are the hardest, most secular, 
 worldly, and self-seeking creatures which this metro- 
 pohs contains. Let them come, if they have any 
 kindred or friends to whose help they may come, or if 
 they be in want, for then they come on an errand 
 which the Lord may countenance ; but let them come 
 merely for desire of gain, or of getting on, and they 
 come at Mammon’s instigation, with whom our God 
 
280 
 
 THE PEIEST AND HIS CATECHUMENS. 
 
 doth not co-operate at all I began the duties 
 
 of the day at ten o’clock, with Mrs. C , the 
 
 woman whom Lady Mackintosh 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, and brothers 
 three, and all her kindred but one brother, who still 
 lives in Buchan. The loss of her httle 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 hght 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, hke 
 
 many other things I write, is to yourself alone 
 
 This good woman, whose face is all written over with 
 
 sorrow and sadness, hke Mrs. M ’s, had been a 
 
 member 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 
 
TWO SISTEES. 
 
 281 
 
 walk ill liis fatlier’s footsteps, and comfort the afflicted 
 flock of Christ, which is our anointed caUing, as it was 
 that of our great Master. Obey this at the command- 
 ment of your husband. This woman satisfied me well, 
 both as to knowledge and 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 
 aberrations of mind. The Lord bless her in such a 
 tender case! 
 
 “My next spiritual visitants were the two Misses 
 
 A , whom I am wont to meet at Mr. Cassel’s, of 
 
 whom the younger came to my instructions, drawn by 
 spiritual concern, the elder to accompany the younger, 
 and thus both have been led to come forward — I fear 
 the latter still rather as a companion than as a disciple. 
 But, oh, the difierence, as a lad who has just parted from 
 me said, ‘ Grace gives to the youth a fuller majesty, with-/ 
 out any petty pride,’, so I found it here in the difference 
 between the hving spirit of the one’s conversation and 
 words, and the shaped formahty and measured cadence 
 of the other. I propose looking here a httle deeper ; but 
 as I have several days devoted to further instruction, I 
 made no demur at present, though I counselled them 
 fervently and prayed with them both. My next was a 
 
 Miss S , from Johnstone, near Paisley, who has 
 
 come to London to be under her brother’s medical 
 care, — a fine Scotch head, with an art-pale countenance, 
 and fine Grecian outhne of face; she is a regular 
 member of the church in her native place, but out of 
 ■her own will came to speak with me ; and, though 
 feeble in strength, we were able to commune and pray 
 together to our mutual comfort. My last, at one o’clock. 
 
282 
 
 A COMPANION FOE HIS ISABELLA. 
 
 was Mrs. E-; , a widow lady of most devout and 
 
 intelligent appearance, wlio has been in the habit, for 
 many months, of attending my Wednesday ministra- 
 tions, 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 discourse, and I 
 found in her a most exercised and tender spirit, whose 
 husband of her youth had been cut off from her in 
 the East Indies, and left her three sons and a daughter ; 
 the former she had now come up to town to prepare 
 for cadetships ; afterwards to return, with her daughter, 
 to the country again, to rear her in the fear of the 
 Lord. And of her eldest son, whom she had watched 
 over with such care for six years, having for that time 
 lived with them in Beverley, for no other end but to 
 educate them herself, in which occupation she met with 
 the healing of God to her own soul in the midst of 
 scoffers and deriders (whereof the memory to mention 
 drew the tears from her eyes) — her eldest son, who had 
 shown no signs of grace under her most careful in- 
 struction, being now, like herself, for the sake of the 
 Hindostanee language, placed among the ahen 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 devout and simple way, 
 with so many apphcations for instruction, and such a 
 tender mterest in two half-caste daughters of her hus- 
 band, whom she has cared for as her own, that I dehght 
 to think what a sweet companion she wiU make for 
 you, my dearest, when you return. Thus passed a 
 forenoon, not without its mark in memory’s chart. 
 
A SON FKOM THE LOKD. 
 
 283 
 
 ' “ I walked down to Mrs. M ’s, in order to 
 
 inquire after Anne But time forestalls my 
 
 wishes, dear Isabella. 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, soberness of reason, purity of hfe, and richness 
 of character, as far outpasses in promise any youth that 
 I have been the means of bringing unto Christ. And 
 when at nine we assembled to prayer, and HaU showed 
 his pale, emaciated face, and head but sprouting again 
 from the shaver’s razor, along with the rest of my 
 household, and I gave him my easy-chair in considera- 
 tion of his weakness — Oh, Isabella, I felt 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 forget you and our separated family. After 
 which, while I partook of my usual repast, I glanced 
 at that very remarkable article ‘ Milton,’ in the ‘ Edin- 
 burgh Eeview,’ which came in from the hbrary. I 
 take it to be young Macaulay’s. It is clever — oh, it 
 is full of genius ! — but httle grace. Theology of this 
 day — pohtics of this day — neither sound. Oh, envi- 
 ous Time, why dunnest thou me ? Oh, envious Sleep, 
 why callest thou me ? I write to my wife, to comfort 
 and edify her, — and bless her, and my babe, and my 
 
284 
 
 WEARINESS. 
 
 servant, and all my kindred of lier father’s honourable 
 and pious house. Well, I come. Farewell, my dear wife. 
 
 ‘‘November Ist^ 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 preserve. 
 
 “ 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 do 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 com- 
 municants yesterday was a Mary B , from Hatton 
 
 Garden, a young woman of a sweet and gracious ap- 
 pearance and discourse, who, with her mother and a 
 numerous family, were early cast upon God’s care, who 
 hath cared for them according to His promise. I was 
 much pleased with the simplicity and sincerity of her 
 heart, and the affectionate way in which she spoke of 
 her Lord ; so that she left no doubt on my mind of her 
 being, to the extent of her knowledge and talents, a 
 
A SPIRIT FULL OF INSPIRATIONS. 
 
 285 
 
 faithful 'and true disciple. I shall seek another inter- 
 view with her ; for I do not feel that I have got 
 acquainted with her spirit, or else it is of so simple and 
 cathohc a form as to have no character to distinguish 
 it. The next was my old acquaintance, Sarah Evans, 
 the wild girl, who was somewhat carried in her mind, 
 if you remember, in the beginning of a sermon, and 
 
 whom I visited at Dr. ’s, in Bloomsbury. I httle 
 
 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 feehng 
 towards thee, as if thou wert not wholly dwelhng 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 spfrituahty 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. 
 
286 
 
 RETURNS TO THE CONVOCATION BOOK. 
 
 wlio inquires at her occasionally about my brother, 
 and about the Caledonian church ; from which I 
 presume that every one recognises in her the same 
 unhkeness 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 expec- 
 tation of another visitor ; and, as usual, for his me mory 
 hangs on every twig, the little darling whom I used to 
 fondle and instruct camejto my remembrance, and b owed 
 me down with a momentary so rrow , which passed, full of 
 sweetness, into what train of thought I have now for- 
 gotten. 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 him to converse 
 with me and deliver his opinions. It embodies 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 radicahsm from my mind, 
 and to give me insight into the true jirinciples of 
 obedience to government. There are, my dear, certain 
 great feelings or laws of the soul, under which it grows 
 into full stature ; of which obedience to government is 
 one, communion witli the Church is another, trust in 
 the providence of God another, and so forth ; whicli 
 form the original demand in the soul, both for religion, 
 and law, and family, and to answer which these were 
 appointed of God, and are preserved by His authority. 
 My notion is, that the ten commandments contain the* ten 
 principal of these mother-elements of a thriving soul — 
 these laws of laws, and generating principles of all 
 institutions. These also, I think, ought to be made the 
 
STUDY. 
 
 287 
 
 basis of every system of moral and political philosophy. 
 But all this is but looming upon my eye, and durst not 
 be spoken in Scotland, under the penalty of high treason 
 against their laws of logic, and their enslaved spirit of 
 discourse. By-the-by, when I speak of Scotland, it 
 was about this time of day when I received a letter 
 from Dr. Gordon, 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 
 answer it by referring them to my Orations on the 
 Missionary Doctrine^ as being my contribution to the 
 Society. . . . But I must go to the church to preach 
 from John xiv. 27. The Lord strengthen me ! 
 
 ‘‘And now, having enjoyed no small portion of His 
 presence for one so unworthy, I return to my sweet 
 occupation of 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 ad- 
 dressed myself to my discourse, which I purposed from 
 Gal. ii. 20, in continuation and enlargement of that 
 from Phil. i. 21; but going into the context, I was 
 drawn away to 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 young man, by name 
 Peter Samuel, of a boyish appearance, very modest and 
 
288 
 
 A RE-UNION OF YOUNG CHRISTIANS. 
 
 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 he back upon my chair and 
 listen. The Lord bless the youth ! It was very mar- 
 vellous ; 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 Ehymer — who is come to town to prosecute 
 his studies as an artist. He is already in full com- 
 munion with the church, but loved the opportunity of 
 conversing with me ; and the other was of two who 
 
 desire to come in company, John E , a man of 
 
 about thirty-five, and C , a young lad of about 
 
 twenty. Moreover, Samuel had not departed ; and I 
 think they had been congregated of the Lord on very 
 purpose to encourage my heart and strengthen my 
 hands, for it is not to be told what a heavenly hour 
 they spent in making known the doings of the Lord to 
 their souls ; and the two latter told me that every Sabbath 
 'f- they held meetings, before and after church, with others 
 
SELF-DENIAL IN EELIGIOUS CONVERSATION. 
 
 289 
 
 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 manners attracted him ; and I was 
 lost in wonder how the Lord should work such things 
 by my unworthiness. But remembering my ministerial 
 calling, I opened to them the duty of self-denial in the >< 
 expression of our spiritual experiences before the world, 
 lest they should profane these sanctuaries of our God ; 
 and the necessity of wisdom to veil with parable and 
 simihtude, 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 fife, having enlarged to their 
 great seeming contentment, we joined our prayers 
 together, and they departed. Now these men who thus 
 
 commune together are of most diverse ranks. C 
 
 is a gentleman’s son ; E , though of high expecta- 
 
 tions, has been reduced to fill some 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 ahen ; which altogether was a day of 
 such exhaustion as unfitted me for writing to you the 
 particulars of it, that you might rejoice in my joy, and 
 give praise unto the Lord, when you know the blessing 
 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 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 u 
 
290 “A VEEY RICH HARVEST.” 
 
 of tlie Chief Shepherd, that I might even die for them 
 if need were ! In aU which spiritual conditions I am 
 much encouraged 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 dis- 
 tinctly represented ; but on Sabbath I wiU communicate 
 the result. Only I have had much insight given me 
 into the Epistle to the Galatians, from which the 
 matter of my discourse will be taken. At six I went 
 forth to my duties, and opened to my children the 
 nature of the Christian Church, as being to the world 
 what the new man is to the old ; what the body, after 
 the resurrection, is to the present body. . . . After 
 which, commending them to the grace of God, I re- 
 turned 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 ; vrhich, 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 God, a very rich harvest this season. . . . 
 The Lord be with thy spirit ! 
 
 “ Thursday^ Nov. 3rd. — Last night, my dearest Isa- 
 bella, upon my bed I had one of those temptations of 
 Satan, with which I perceive, by your affectionate 
 letter, that you are oft troubled, and which I shall 
 therefore recount to you. The occasion of it was the 
 memory of our beloved boy, who hath now got home 
 out of Satan’s dominion. That morning he was taken 
 by the Lord I was sleeping in the back room, when 
 
TEMPTATIONS OF SATAN. 
 
 291 
 
 dear sister Anne, who loved him as dearly as we all did, 
 came in about three or foirr o’clock in the morning, 
 and said, ‘ Get up, for Edward is much worse.’ The 
 sound of these words, caught in my sleeping ear, shot a 
 cold shiver through my frame like the hand of death, 
 and I arose. Of this I had not thought again tiE, last 
 night on my bed, before sleeping, Satan seemed to 
 brmg to my ear these words ; and, as he brought them, 
 the cold sliiver trickled to my very extremities. I 
 thought to wile it away, but it was vain ; and I remem- 
 bered that the only method of dealing with hhn is by 
 faith, and of overcommg him by the word of God. So 
 I took liis suggestion in good part, and meditated all 
 the sufferings of the darhiig, wliich are too fresh upon 
 my mind ; and sought to ascend, by that help, to the 
 sympathy of our Lord’s sufferings, and to take 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 occupied me till I fell 
 asleep, and awoke this morning in the fear of the Lord. 
 I make Mondays and Thursdays my days of receiving 
 friends ; and while we were engaged with worship, 
 
 ]\L\ Ker came in, and, after prayers, Mr. C . I was 
 
 happy to understand from the former that ]\ir. Cun- 
 ningham, of Harrow, has become a violent opponent of 
 the expediency principle in respect to the Apocrypha*, 
 and think the committee wiU come to the righteous 
 conclusion, which will please our good father much. 
 
 * Referring to the hot and bitter conflict then going on in the 
 Bible Society, chiefly between the parent Society in England and its 
 Scotch auxiliaries, which were vehemently opposed to the insertion 
 of the Apocrypha along with the canonical Scriptures. 
 
2D2 
 
 PASTORAL VISITS. 
 
 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 ful- 
 filling 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 toge- 
 ther, 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 thanksgiving with 
 one accord. 
 
 “Thence I went on my way to our friends, the 
 
 G ’s, wLo now live in America Square, towards 
 
 the Tower. I know not how it is, but I feel a certain 
 
 infirmity and backwardness to speak to Alex. G 
 
 concerning spiritual things, though I love him, and 
 beheve that he loves the truth ; against which, by the 
 grace of God, I was enabled in some measure to 
 prevail, and make some manifestation of the truth, and 
 unite in prayer, which had the effect of bringing him 
 to signify his purpose of waiting upon me (I suppose 
 concerning the communion). The Lord receive this 
 
A SICK-BED. 
 
 293 
 
 wortliy 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 wiU 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 God, and travailed in birth for the regeneration 
 of all her children, laid down by a confusion in her 
 head, which threatened apoplexy or palsy ; and now 
 for three days afflicted, without that clear manifestation 
 of the Holy Comforter 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 warning and exhorta- 
 tion, and prayed with one accord for the state of the 
 sick, I went up to her bedchamber with the father 
 and daughters, and found the aged mother lying upon 
 the bed more composed than I had expected. I taught 
 her that Christ was the same, though her faculties were 
 bedimmed ; that her soul should the more long to 
 escape from behind the dark eclipse of the clouds ; but 
 not to disbeheve in His mercy, because her body bur- 
 dened her, and caused her to groan. We bowed down 
 and prayed, and the Lord gave me a large utterance ; 
 and when I had ceased, I could not refrain myself from 
 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 
 
294 
 
 COEREGGIO’S “ ST. JOHN.” 
 
 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 proposed to compose herself to rest. The Lord 
 rest her soul, and prepare it for BQs kingdom ! though 
 I hope she may be restored again to health. . . . 
 
 “ Thence I proceeded to Bedford Square, by Cheap- 
 side, 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. Bor I held with him once, 
 but now am assured that Milton, in his character, was 
 the archangel of Eadicalism, 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 marvellous heads by Correggio — the one 
 of the Virgin about to be crowned with stars; the 
 other of St. John: certainly, beyond comparison, the 
 most powerful heads I have ever seen. The latter, 
 they say, is a portrait of me. But I do not think so. 
 I cannot both be like the Baptist and the beloved 
 Apostle ; I would I were in spirit, for the flesh 
 
 profiteth nothing. Anne P and the child continue 
 
 to do well, and the poet is already a very tender father. 
 The Counsellor and I had a good deal of 
 
PEAYERS. 
 
 295 
 
 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. Yet I love 
 him, and he loves me, and permits me to open truth 
 in a certain guise to his ear. The Lord give me 
 wisdom, if it were only for this family ! I returned 
 home to peruse Eckhard’s ‘ Eome,’ and to worship with 
 my family and read the Holy Scriptures, and conclude 
 by writing the summary of the day to my dear wife. 
 And now I return to my chamber, thankful unto Thee, 
 oh my Father, who hast protected thine rmworthy 
 child, and not allowed him this day to stray far from 
 thy commandments. Thou hast made me to know 
 Thee ; Thou has exercised my soul with love and 
 kindness ; Thou hast called me out of the world by 
 prayer. I bless Thee, oh my God ; I exceedingly bless 
 Thee ! And now, my tender wife, go on to seek the 
 Lord ; wait upon Him ; entreat Him ; importune Him. 
 Ho 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 Ehza- 
 beth, my sister, persevere in the good part which thou 
 hast chosen, and thou wilt find all that is promised to 
 be true and faithful. And, my lovely Anne, be com- 
 posed in thy spirit by God, who will dehver thee from 
 all 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 
 
296 
 
 ECCLESIASTICUS. 
 
 shadow of His wings this night ; and when we awake 
 in the morning, may we be satisfied with His likeness ! 
 
 “ Tuesday^ Nov. ^.th . — I feel it necesssary already to 
 be on my guard against the adversary, lest he should 
 convert these journals, intended for the comfort of my 
 dear wife, into an occasion of self-display or self-delusion ; 
 and the more because I have been singularly blessed 
 by the goodness of the Lord, which, you would say, 
 was the best protection against him ; but the Lord 
 judged otherwise when, after enriching Paul with such 
 revelations, he saw it wise to give him a thorn in the 
 flesh, a messenger of Satan to bufiet him, lest he should 
 be exalted above measure. Therefore let me watch 
 my pen, and the Lord watch my soul, that nothing 
 pass thence to the eye of my partner which may in any 
 wise convey a false impression of my heart. I have 
 resumed my custom of reading the lessons of the day, 
 besides the Psalms, whatever else I may read out of 
 the Holy Scriptures, and was struck, in reading out of 
 Ecclesiasticus, with the odour of earthhness which there 
 is about the wisdom of it. It is rather shrewd than 
 divine ; and, I am convinced, has httle heavenward 
 drift in it to the soul. But how much more spiritual 
 than the maxims of Eochefoucault, or any other modern 
 who has sought to express himself by aphorisms ! I 
 was in great danger of fading under the spirit of indo- 
 lence after breakfast, and loitering. The sensation 
 about my eyes, which foretells a listless day, made its 
 appearance ; and I felt inchned to stretch my limbs, 
 and take up a book at hand, and while away the time. 
 But I thank God who enabled me to withstand the 
 enemy, and to stir myself up to study, which I prose- 
 
DETEEIOEATING EFFECT OF A GEEAT CITY. 
 
 297 
 
 cuted with a view to my morning sermon. This is 
 beginning to take shape, and will form, I judge, a 
 digest of the Epistle to the Galatians, or a statement of 
 the Apostle’s argument for the abohtion of the law and 
 the liberty of faith, in order to my afterwards showing 
 our deliverance from the forms of the world into the 
 liberty of Christ. 
 
 “This was a fast-day to me, at least a soup-day, 
 which I judged good for my health, so that I felt 
 languid the whole forenoon until four, when Miss 
 
 A called to conduct me to her house. The two 
 
 Miss A ’s joined our church at the last communion. 
 
 Their mother had died some months before, and they 
 are orphans. They win their bread by the needle, and 
 dwell with two younger brothers, whom they wished 
 me much to converse with. Those two brothers have 
 no one over them, and are as wild as the beasts of the 
 wood. Though only fifteen and seventeen, I was per- 
 fectly amazed at the irreverent, thoughtless way in 
 which they behaved when I entered — nothing awed, 
 nothing moved, but full of conceit and self-possession. 
 The eldest is a clerk in a writer’s [Anglice^ attorney’s) 
 office ; the younger is a sort of clerk to a councillor, — 
 one to keep the door of his office open, and to go errands 
 — for whom his master is glad to find something to do. 
 Oh ! what a horrid effect London has upon the character 
 of children ! It is only beginning to be revealed to me in 
 its native deformity. The awful iniquity of a great 
 city is nothing to its silent effects in deteriorating the 
 races of men. They really dwindle as if they were plants. 
 I saw at once that if I was to be profitable to these two 
 lads, it was by authority as well as by affection ; so I 
 
298 
 
 TWO LONDON BOYS. 
 
 resolved to teach them the reverence of God, and of 
 God’s word, and of God’s messenger. The eldest sat over 
 against me on the other side of the fire, the two sisters 
 working at the table, and the youngest beyond the 
 table, and he would not be persuaded to come near me. 
 I opened my way by speaking of their orphan state, 
 and their want of counsel and authority over them. 
 Then I passed to the authority of God, and opened the 
 tendency of youth to be headstrong and untamed. The 
 eldest, I perceived, was full of observation and thought. 
 He could not divide the matter between the authority 
 and affection with which I spoke. By degrees I got 
 him to open his mind, which was very wilful. I con- 
 tinued to oppose to his whims the will of God, and 
 would not lower the discourse to any compromise, or 
 indulgence to any of his moods. His brother had to go 
 away earlier ; and after getting him to sit beside me, I 
 spoke to him with great earnestness and affection, and 
 blessed him ; but whether he was moved from his 
 indolent and lethargic obstinacy, I know not. Then 
 with the eldest I dealt for another hour, in various 
 discourse, which I am now too weary to recall. And 
 when I knew not what impression I had made upon 
 his short and hasty temper, which I saw writhing be- 
 tween the awe of the truths which I spoke, and the 
 irritation of the mastery which I held over him, the 
 lad rose from his seat, and went to a press and took 
 out a parcel, from which he drew forth a set of beauti- 
 ful little prints of Bible subjects, and asked if I had 
 seen them. I answered, no. Tlien, said he, ‘ Will 
 you accept them from me ? ’ I hesitated ; but perceiv- 
 ing it was altogether necessary, if I would have any 
 
A LOGICAL COMPANION. 
 
 299 
 
 further dealing with this strange spirit, I took them ; 
 and here they are before me. Upon which, his hour 
 
 of seven having come, he went his way I am 
 
 weary, but very well ; and give the Lord thanks for his 
 goodness, praying Him to strengthen me with rest. St. 
 Pancras is ringing up the hill twelve o’clock. So the 
 Lord compass you and my beloved child. Farewell ! 
 
 ‘‘‘Saturday^ Nov. 5. — I had all arranged to finish 
 
 this sheet and send it off to-night ; but James P 
 
 is come, and has occupied me so much, and the Sabbath 
 is now on the verge of coming in, and I have much 
 before me, therefore I delay this day’s summary till 
 to-morrow evening, if God spare me. But that I might 
 not go to bed without blessing you and our tender 
 lamb, I have taken up my pen to write — That tlie 
 Lord God, whom I serve would be the guardian of 
 my wife and child until He restore them to the sight of 
 his servant. Amen. 
 
 ‘‘ Sabbath., Nov. 6. — And now, my dearest Isabella, 
 I am alone with thee again, and can give thee the news 
 which are dearest to thy heart, that the Lord hath not 
 deserted His unworthy servant this day, but hath been, 
 especially in the evening, present to my soul, and given 
 me a large door of utterance, I trust to the edification 
 of His church, and the comforting of His people. 
 Yesterday I had laboured all the morning with a con- 
 stant and steady diligence, and- about one o’clock was 
 in full sight of land, with strength of hand still left me 
 to have finished this letter, and so cheated the lazy post, 
 
 when, as I said, James P stept in ; in whom, to be 
 
 brief, I find we shall have a most easily accommodated 
 inmate, if so he likes to become, and a very shrewd. 
 
300 
 
 SUNDAY SERVICES. 
 
 logical companion, full of political economy and of 
 mathematics, who cannot help stating every thing as if 
 it were a question to be resolved by the Calculus, and 
 cannot conceive of any ideas or knowledge which are 
 to be otherwise come at than by the methods of the 
 intellect ; which error I have laboured hard to correct 
 in him, and not, I believe, without some partial success. 
 He is one of the coolest, shrewdest intellects I have 
 ever met with, — sweetly disposed, very gentle, and 
 
 easily served My morning lesson this 
 
 day was the 2nd chapter of the Hebrews, in whicli 
 is taught us this great lesson, that we shall partake 
 with Christ in the government of the world to come, 
 which I take to be the same with the ‘ rest that 
 remaineth,’ mentioned in the 4th chapter, or the per- 
 fection of the present dispensation of the Gospel in 
 
 the millennial state Also there is taught us, 
 
 though but incidentally, the end of His incarnation to 
 destroy death and him that hath the power of death, 
 and deliver us from the fear and bondage of death. 
 Let us enter into faith, my dear wife, and be delivered 
 
 from the blow which death hath brought us 
 
 Also He took our flesh that we might be assured of 
 our oneness ; that we might be able to give ourselves 
 to the hope of His glory. He did first join himself to 
 the reahty of our humility. My discourse was a view 
 of the doctrine of the ^Epistle to the Galatians, intro- 
 ductory to discourses upon Gal. ii. 19, 20 This 
 
 introduction, sum of doctrine, and threefold argument 
 embraced the whole Epistle, which 1 had thus digested 
 into my discourse, with apphcation of each branch of 
 the argument to tlie present times and all times ; but 
 
WANT OF FAITH. 
 
 301 
 
 I was able to deliver only about a half of it, and 
 withal our service reached to within a quarter of two. 
 My evening chapter was the 21st of Genesis, when I 
 felt my mouth opened in a remarkable way to bear 
 testimony to the want of faith in this generation, who 
 would embrace the heavens and the earth, and the truth 
 and majesty of God, within the nutshell of their own 
 intellect, and beheve in God not a hair’s-breadth beyond 
 their intellectual sight, — which, adopted by children as 
 scholars, would destroy the school — by subjects, would 
 destroy government; and, in short, that these sacred 
 things all hang together, and must sink or swim with 
 faith I was much strengthened in this dis- 
 course, and in both my prayers Mr. E 
 
 was there morning and evening. The Lord add that 
 youth to His Church ! I travail for him. Earewell, 
 dear Isabella. You cannot have so much pleasure in 
 reading these as I have in writing them. The blessing 
 of the Lord be with my babe — my tender babe. The 
 blessing of the Lord be with her mother — her tempted 
 
 but victorious mother 
 
 Monday^ 1th November. — Though wearied, my 
 dearest Isabella, with a day of much activity, and 
 afterwards with the exposition of that blessed Psalm, 
 this night’s lesson, and now with much discourse and 
 
 discussion to James P , whom I like exceedingly, and 
 
 Wilham Hamilton, all concerning the subordination of 
 the sensual or visible, and the intellectual or knowable, 
 to the spiritual or redeemable (the first giving the 
 typography, the second giving the method, and the last 
 the substance of all true and excellent discourse), I do 
 now sit down with true spiritual delight to commune 
 
302 
 
 LITTLE EDWARD’S MINISTRY. 
 
 with my soul’s sweet mate. Yea, hath not the Lord 
 made us for one another, and by his providence united 
 us to one another, against many fiery trials and terrible 
 delusions of Satan ? And, as you yourself observed, has 
 he not over again wedded us, far more closely than in 
 any joy, by our late tribulation, and the burial of our 
 lovely Edward, our holy first-born, who gave up the 
 ghost in order to make his father and mother one, 
 and expiate the discords and divisions of their souls ? 
 Dear spirit, thou dearest spirit which doth tenant 
 heaven, this is the mystery of thy burial on the wed- 
 ding-day* of thy parents, to make them for ever one. 
 Oh, and thou shalt be sanctified, God blessing, by such 
 a concord and harmony of soul as hath not often blessed 
 the earth since Eden was forfeited by sin. My wife, 
 this is not poetry, this is not imagination which I write ; 
 it is truth, rely upon it, it is truth that lovely Edward 
 hath been the sweet offering of peace between us for 
 ever ; and so, when w^e meet in heaven, he shall be as 
 the priest who joined us, — ^the child of months being one 
 hundred years old. Let my dear wife be comforted 
 by these thoughts of her true love. I found much 
 sweet meditation upon my bed last night ; and when I 
 awoke in the morning He was with me, and I had much 
 countenance of the Lord in my secret devotions ; and 
 
 when I descended found Mr.T ,the preacher, and Mr. 
 
 Bull met in the breakfast parlour, and Mr. P seated 
 
 in the hbrary. That preacher is very clever, and in- 
 finitively prohfic in his vein, and that no contemptible 
 one ; but volatile and wild as the winds, yet musical in 
 
 * This much-lamented child was buried on the 14th October, 
 the second anniversary of their marriage. 
 
AN INTELLECTUALIST. 
 
 303 
 
 his mirth, and full of heartiness and good will. But 
 he serveth joyaunce of the mind, and has not yoked him- 
 self to any workmanship ; and I have accordingly ex- 
 horted him to be about his Master’s work — to get him 
 down into the battle, and take his post. Mr. Bull 
 brought me a very sweet frontispiece, which he has exe- 
 cuted for Montgomery’s Psalmist^ one of Collins’s series. 
 .... As usual, his bashful, meek company was very 
 sweet to me. 
 
 “When they went. Miss N came, who can 
 
 beheve none, and would intellectualise everything ; 
 and consequently looks for her religious prosperity in 
 expedients of the intellectual or visible world, or in 
 means^ as they call them ; (but, Isabella, nothing is a 
 means of grace in which Christ is not seen to be pre- 
 sent, whence he is called the Mediator or mean- 
 creator) which, I told her, I could no longer indulge her 
 in, by framing my discourse to her subtleties, but would 
 read her the word of God, to which, if she framed her 
 mind by faith, then it would be well ; but if not, she 
 must utterly perish. After which reading of the 103rd 
 Psalm, being moved in my spirit with love to her, I 
 pronounced over her, without rising, a prayer which 
 made her weep abundantly — tears, I trust, which may 
 by God’s grace reap joy hereafter. She says I have 
 demohshed aU the glory of her building, and she stands 
 
 as upon a ruin of herself. I say unto you. Miss N , 
 
 Christ can alone build up and mould your shattered 
 mind to the similitude of His own mind. You see, my 
 dear, what boldness the Lord is endowing me with. 
 . . . . What clean, black viUany, what unwrinkled 
 villany, there was upon those countenances I met 
 
304 
 
 INFLUENCE OF CUSTOM. 
 
 in Saffron Hill and Field Lane, on my way to the 
 Bible Society, where, among others, I saw the face of 
 Father Simon, looking with all its eager unrest ; and 
 there being nothing of importance to detain me, I came 
 away with the old worthy, and held such discourse with 
 him as the Strand heareth not oft, until we reached the 
 Temple, whither he entered to his business, and I re- 
 turned to the city to dine with Mr. Dinwiddie and Wm. 
 Hamilton ; and on my way, having found a receiving- 
 • house, I committed your letter to the care of the post ; 
 but, ah ! forgot the blessing or prayer for its safe 
 arrival, so doth the rust of custom corrode the frame 
 of our piety. Life should be a web of piety ; custom 
 makes it a web of impiety. My dear, we must be re- 
 deemed in all things from wickedness to serve the 
 living God. Having dined with my friends, I pro- 
 ceeded at three to visit Mr. David, who had yesterday 
 a relapse, and is this day very low. The surgeon ap- 
 prehended no danger ; but I know not how it is, I fear 
 we are going to lose him. His soul is winged with 
 faith : let it take its flight. He also is my son in the 
 Gospel. I could not see him, but we lifted up our 
 hearts together for his health and salvation. Then I pro- 
 ceeded to Mrs. T ; and now, my dear, learn a lesson 
 
 of spiritual hfe, and let me learn what I am now to 
 teach thee. This sweet mother, whom I greatly love, 
 said to me, ‘ All darkness, all darkness ; what if it 
 should have been all self-deception ?' That is, the Lord 
 was shaking His saint out of the last refuge of Satan, 
 which he takes in the righteousness which hath been 
 wrought in us by the Holy Spirit. As Knox said on 
 his death-bed, ‘ The enemy has been trying me with 
 
REMONSTKANCE ABOUT LENGTH OF SERVICES. 305 
 
 representations of the work which has been clone by 
 
 me.’ .... 
 
 “ From thence I proceeded to the Session, where 
 we proceeded with good harmony and union, till 
 they came to speak of time ; and then I told them 
 they must talk no more to me concerning the ministry 
 of the word, for I would submit to no authority in that 
 matter but the authority of the church, from which 
 also I would take hberty to appeal if it gainsaid my 
 conscience. I am resolved that two hours and a half 
 I will have the privilege of. Write me your judgment 
 
 in this matter We had another meeting, at 
 
 seven, of the congregation So I returned, and 
 
 one o’clock sounding in my ear from Pancras church, 
 I bid you farewell for the night, and pray the 
 Lord to bless you, and our little treasure, and her who 
 hath joined, herself to our house, and hath a right to 
 the share of its blessings. Farewell, my spouse ! 
 
 “ Wednesday^ ^th November . — I sit down, my dearest, 
 after a day of languishing and mourning, rather more 
 cheerful and refreshed than I have deserved to be ; for, 
 whether from defective sleep or over-fatigue yesterday, 
 I have been very dead and hfeless all day long, until the 
 evening roused me to some spiritual exercises. Satan 
 could not have had this occasion against me, but for 
 my own most blameworthy conduct in preferring man 
 before God in the services of the morning. For, having 
 
 promised to take James P down to Bedford Square 
 
 to breakfast, I hurried over both my private and 
 family worship. Now this is such infinite irreverence 
 done unto the majesty of heaven, that I know not how 
 any stronger proof of want of faith could be found. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 X 
 
THE PEACE-OFFERING. 
 
 3Cr, 
 
 . . . When we returned from Mr. M ’s, I endeavoured 
 
 to seek the Lord in my closet, but found Him not. He 
 hid His countenance, and my heart was left to the bitter- 
 ness of being alone. I took to the reading of the 3rd 
 chapter of Hebrews, in the original, with a view to pasture 
 for my people ; and afterwards to the 22nd of Genesis, 
 with the same end in view, of which I have been able 
 to make out eight verses. I wish to read the Sabbath 
 lessons, at least, in the Hebrew, and to make both lessons 
 a dihgent study through the week, with Pool’s ‘Synopsis’ 
 before me ; and I have besought the Lord, as I do now 
 again beseech Him, that I may continue in this right- 
 eous and dutiful custom. In the Hebrew, it would per- 
 haps be an entertainment to your heart to accompany 
 me, that we may not be divided in this study when we 
 meet again. But I forget that you have the dear babe 
 to watch over ; for whom, my dear, let our souls be ex- 
 ercised rather than for the dead. Oh, let us wrestle 
 with God for her soul, that she may not be caught 
 away from us at unawares. I wish she were here, that I 
 might in my arms present her to the Lord every morning 
 and evening. Your letter gave me great dehght, and 
 came to cheer me in my spiritual mourning. The Lord 
 continue to support your soul, and to be your portion I 
 Oh, how blessed has been thy death, my beloved, to 
 thy parents’ souls ! thou first-fruits of our union, and 
 peace-offering of our family, dearly-beloved child, who 
 never frowned on any one, and never fretted, but 
 moaned the approach of that enemy which was to 
 bereave us of thee ! . . . . 
 
 “I sought to begin the discourse on Galatians ii. 19, 
 whose object it will be to show that an outward law 
 
PHILANTHROPY. 
 
 307 
 
 is always a sign of bondage, and that the inward 
 wilhngness is hberty, which a Divine indwelling spirit 
 can alone beget and maintain within us. Pray that 
 I may be enabled to handle this mighty theme 
 to the glory of God, and the promotion of the 
 Eedeemer’s kingdom. For it calls upon all that is within 
 me, and I shall have this and the following week to 
 
 give to it Too many cares of philanthropy, 
 
 dear, are as seductive as any other cares ; it is divinity 
 which alone can sustain philanthropy. But a divine is 
 become hke a phoenix. We know one, but he is near in 
 ashes, and who is to arise in his stead, I know not. . . . 
 
 After leaving the study, Mr. P and I walked together. 
 
 .... At six, I had the visit of another child of my 
 ministry. Miss Miller, in whom I found a very humble 
 and sweet spirit, thoroughly, as I trust, convinced of 
 sin, and purged of her sin. After conversing and pray- 
 ing with her, I went out to Mr. and Mrs. Hall, at 
 their own request, to open the subject of the communion 
 to their souls, when I set it forth by the parable of the 
 prodigal son. That at baptism we had obtained our 
 freedom in our Father’s house, who ever since had 
 divided to us our portion of gifts, graces, and oppor- 
 tunities, which we had prodigally squandered ; but, 
 taking pity on us, He doth keep open table in His house, 
 in order to welcome every one who hath a longing to 
 return. He breaketh bread and poureth out wine, 
 the body and blood of His Son’s sacrifice, for every one 
 who will come, as the prodigal came, heartily repenting, 
 and humbly confessing his sin. This, therefore, is what 
 I desire — the sense of sin, and the faith that it is to be 
 forgiven only through the blood of Christ. For the 
 
308 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF THE TRINITY. 
 
 enlightening of the mind, for the convincing of the 
 heart, and the converting of the whole soul, it is the 
 work of the Holy Spirit, who is the gift of Christ to 
 His weak but faithful disciples. Oh, dearest, how 
 profitable is that mystery of the Trinity to my soul ! 
 The husband and wife heard me with tears. I trust 
 these are tokens for good. The Lord enable them to 
 retain upon their souls those feelings towards Him 
 which they this night expressed to me. By these 
 exercises my spirit was restored. The Lord hath re- 
 stored my soul, and I was able to comfort the family 
 with the 42nd Psalm, and I trust to encourage my 
 
 own spirit How, the blessing of the Lord 
 
 rest upon my wife, and child, and servant this night, 
 who have not separated, I know, without commending 
 me to the Lord ! Thus do we unite our interests on 
 high, and lay in our proofs and pledges of mutual 
 love with our heavenly Father Farewell ! 
 
 “ Thursday^ November^ 1825. — I pray the Lord 
 so to quicken my love to my dear wife, and so to move 
 my soul with the spirit of truth and wisdom, as that I 
 shall much comfort and edify her by the words which 
 I am about to write. Yesterday I so wore myself out 
 with the various duties I had to discharge, that I was 
 hardly able to do the offices of family worship, and, in 
 utter inability, forewent my sweet interview of faith 
 with my Isabella ; no, not of faith, but of these visible 
 emblems of faith, for the interview of the spirit I truly 
 
 had with you I have fulfilled your commission 
 
 to Mrs. Hall, who received your gift with much thank- 
 fulness. Our maid is now gone, and we are a very 
 happy and, I trust, contented household. In tlie church 
 
MISSIONARIES. 
 
 309 
 
 last night I opened the real contents of the new covenant 
 (Hebrews viii. 10, to the end) to the young communi- 
 cants, who are about to enter by the proper form to the 
 renewal of it. For you will observe, dearest, that 
 there was a renewal of the covenant when the children 
 of Israel entered into the land of promise, as there is to 
 us : first, the granting it at baptism to the faith of our 
 parents ; and again, tlie renewal of it over the sacrifice of 
 our own faith. Now these contracts are, 1st, the law 
 within, and no longer without, that is, hberty of soul to 
 obey God, instead of restraint of fear ; 2nd, the ruhng 
 of God over us, and our subjection to Him in all willing- 
 ness ; 3rd, the teaching of His Spirit in all His revelations ; 
 4th, tlie absolution of all our sinfidness through Christ’s 
 atonement. The first being the conversion of our will ; 
 the second, the maintenance of our weakness ; the 
 third, the enlightening of our knowledge ; the fourth, 
 the purging of our conscience from all fear. What an 
 inheritance, my dear wife, is this to which you, and I, 
 and all believers are admitted ! Let us enter it, let us 
 enter into it. Wliy can we not enter into the willing- 
 ness, the confirmation, the enhghtening, the peace of it ? 
 We cannot enter m by reason of unbelief. Now en- 
 courage one another, I pray you, for the time is short. 
 
 “This morning we mustered a goodly company, though 
 it was the stormiest morning almost I remember ; three 
 missionaries from the Mission House, our broad-faced 
 Wurtemberg friend, so dear to us all, and a countryman, 
 and an East Indian, half-caste, preparing for his return 
 to preach to the Hindoos. They tell me there are at 
 present two of their countrymen at St. Petersburg!! 
 fulfilling to the letter our Lord’s instructions to his dis- 
 
310 
 
 HEADINGS IN HEBEEW. 
 
 ciples. I have a very strong purpose of sending over 
 to all the Mission Houses copies of my Orations for 
 the sake of the youth ; and to this effect of ordering 
 Hamilton to send me all that are not sold, and desiring 
 him to transmit the proceeds of the sale which there 
 has been to the widow of Smith. Tell me what you 
 think of this. The German missionaries at Harass soon 
 found out the unproductiveness of Scottish prudence 
 when applied to propagate the Gospel, and are fast 
 recurring to the primitive method on the confines of 
 Persia, where they at present labour. They speak of a 
 great revival in the Prussian kingdom ; more than a 
 hundred young preachers have gone forth from the uni- 
 versities to preach the Gospel. The Lord prosper his 
 work ! To-morrow a number of young missionaries are 
 to receive their instructions at a pubhc meeting in 
 Freemason’s Hall, and they are to set out for Malta 
 some time this month. The Lord is their helper. I 
 took occasion, from the 51st Psalm, to speak to 
 them of the qualifications there referred to. . . . After 
 their departure, 1 addressed myself to my sweet studies 
 of reading the lessons of the day, and meditating the 
 lessons of Sabbath in the original tongues. . . . After- 
 wards I betook myself to my lecture on Christ’s at- 
 tendants and sustenance in his ministry, Luke viii. 2, 3, 
 which is a subject of great importance and fruitfulness, 
 if the Lord see it good to open it to me by His Spirit, 
 which I do now earnestly pray. James and I, 
 after dinner (we have now got the wine-cellar open, 
 and I have ordered Hall a bottle of Madeira to strengthen 
 him), went down to Bedford Square, where I had a 
 good deal of profitable conversation with our dear 
 
LETTERS OF INTRODUCTION. 
 
 3II 
 
 friends. But before I went out I received a parcel, . . 
 in which was a fine lace cap and wrought robe for 
 our dear departed boy; .... our darling hath now 
 a more precious robe than can be wrought by the 
 daughters of a duke ; yet it is a sweet and honourable 
 token of their love. I have written to tell them whither 
 
 the object of their love is gone Our little boy! 
 
 thou art incorporated with my memory dearly, with 
 my hope thou art incorporated still more dearly. We 
 will come, when our Lord doth call, to thee and to the 
 general assembly of the first-born. Oh, Isabella, I 
 exhort thee to be dihgent in thy prayers for thee and 
 me ! 
 
 Friday^ \lth November . — I have just dismissed Mrs. 
 Hall, my dear Isabella, to set into the study to-morrow 
 morning a slice of bread and glass of water, purposing 
 to keep myself alone for meditation, and I pray the 
 Lord that he would give us both a heart full of divine 
 
 thoughts and holy purposes Mr. Hamilton is 
 
 a great comfort to me ; I may say of him, as Paul says 
 of Mark, that he is helpful to me for the ministry, 
 literally delivering me of all secular^ares. But I must 
 proceed in order. When we were at our morning 
 
 worship, Mr. 0 shpped in, with his slow and canny 
 
 footj in order to seek introductions to Scotland, which I 
 would not give ; for though I am enough satisfied with 
 him for the rule of charity, I have no sufficient evidence 
 upon which to commend him to another. Indeed I would 
 be suspicious of his favour-seeking and power-hunting, 
 if I were not satisfied it is universal, and that he may 
 have caught it by infection, not generated it in his own 
 constitution ; but, ah, it is a weakening disease, however 
 
312 
 
 THE CHUECII AS A HOUSE. 
 
 caught ! When I had dismissed, I read the 3rd chap- 
 ter of John in tlie original, and studied the latter half 
 of the 3rd chapter of the Hebrews with a diligent 
 reference to the parallel scriptures ; and in studying that 
 chapter it will help you to know that ‘ even as Moses in 
 all his house ’ is not to be understood Hoses’ but 
 God’s house, the house of ‘ Him who appointed him,’ 
 as you will see by referring to the passage in Numbers, 
 of which it is the quotation ; the whole argument being 
 to set Moses forth, not as having a house of his own, 
 but as a servant in the house which Christ had ordered, 
 and to which, in due time. He came as the heir to claim 
 and inherit His own. That idea of the Church, under 
 the similitude of a house, is constant in the New Testa- 
 ment, derived, I take it, from the temple, which was a 
 type of the Church ; and I have no doubt that ‘ In my 
 Father’s house are many mansions,’ means the Church in 
 which he prepared a place for his apostles, by sending 
 to them His Holy Spirit ; so that thenceforth they be- 
 came its foundation stones. ‘We are made partakers 
 with Christ if we hold fast the beginning of our confi- 
 dence steadfast unto the end,’ refers to Christ’s coming 
 in the end to occupy His house, when all His people 
 shall share with Him in His kingdom ; which He him- 
 self sets forth by the same similitude of a householder 
 who went into a far country, and in the meantime gave 
 his servants their several charges. We are these ser- 
 vants ; let us be found faithful, and when He comes we 
 shall be made partakers or sharers with* Him. After 
 these studies in divinity, I relieved my mind by reading 
 a portion of the Convocation book which treated of our 
 Lord’s respect to those who sat in Moses’ seat, present- 
 
SIMPLE AND UNPKOVIDED FAITH. 
 
 313 
 
 ing this feature of His obedience in very meek and true 
 colours. Oh, how I have offended herein, making my- 
 self a judge instead of a minister of the Church ! and 
 yet I know not how otherwise to proceed when all 
 things are manifestly so’ out of square. I do pray 
 earnestly that the Lord would keep me manly in the 
 regulation of the censorious part of my spirit. For I 
 have this day, and immediately after the perusal of the 
 above, written a lecture upon the simple and unpro- 
 vided faith in which our Lord made His rounds of the 
 ministry ; arguing thence the spirit in which His 
 ministers should stand affected towards the provisions 
 of this life, and should receive them ; wherein I have 
 not scrupled to declare the whole counsel of God ; but 
 I know not whether in the right spirit. 
 
 This also has occupied me since dinner up to the time 
 of evening prayer, when the Lord opened my mouth to 
 speak of His love to our souls, so that I could see the ^ 
 tears gather in the eyes of my little company. I do 
 hope there is a work of Divine' grace proceeding m 
 
 these servants’ hearts Oh, Isabella, I have a 
 
 strong persuasion of the power of a holy walk and con- 
 versation, in which, if we continue, we shall save not 
 only our own souls but the souls of those that hear us ; 
 even now there is a strong conviction of that truth 
 brought home to my spirit. For yourself, dear, when 
 you are in darkness and distress, then do not fret, but 
 clothe your spirit in sackcloth, and sit down and take 
 counsel with your soul before the Lord, and study all 
 its deformity, and search into the hidden recesses of its 
 unbelief. It is a rich lesson for humility ; it is a season 
 of sowing seed in tears. The Lord permitteth such 
 
314 
 
 FUNERAL SERVICE. 
 
 temptations that we may tlie more tlioroiiglily see our 
 depravity; and in the midst of our seasons of brightness 
 they come like clouds threatening a deluge, which the 
 rainbow covenant averts from the soul of God’s chosen 
 
 ones My dearest, we must soon go to our rest, 
 
 and our sweet infant also ; and perhaps the Lord may 
 not see us worthy to leave a ny se ed on the earth . His 
 will be done. I pray only to be conformed to His will. 
 How rest in peace, my other part, and thou, sweet link 
 of being betwixt us ! The Lord make our souls one ! 
 And may He bless with the inheritance of our domestic 
 blessings, spiritual and temporal, our faithful servant, 
 who lias joined herself to our house. Fare you all well. 
 The Lord compose your souls to sweet and quiet sleep. 
 
 Saturday^ 12th November . — ... I am left to my 
 sweet occupation of making my dear Isabella a sharer 
 of the actions of my life and the secrets of my heart ; 
 would that they were more valuable for thy sake, my 
 dearest love ! This day was devoted to pious offices con- 
 nected with the memory of our dear boy, that it miglit 
 be made profitable to the living. But I found not the 
 satisfaction which I expected. I began by reading the 
 15th chapter of 1 Corinthians in the original, hoping 
 to be somewhat raised in my thoughts ; but whether 
 I fell away into the criticism and scholice^ from the 
 old Greek fathers, which are in my noble Greek Testa- 
 ment, I know not ; but I think I missed the edification 
 of the spirit ; Satan is never absent from us ; he can 
 slay as effectually from the letter of God’s word, as from 
 the lightest and vainest pleasures of the world. After 
 which I studied the funeral service of the Church, in 
 which office I found some movements of the spirit 
 
THE TWELFTH DAY OF THE MONTH. 
 
 315 
 
 which I sought. Then I girt myself to my duties, and 
 wrote, first, a letter to my father’s house, exhorting ^ 
 them against formality, and testif3ung to them the nature 
 of a spiritual conversation; then I wrote to M , mani- 
 
 festing, according to my ability, the evils of self-com- 
 munion and self-will, and the blessings of communion 
 with the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ. I know 
 not how it may be felt by her, but if she should speak 
 of it, assure her it was done faithfully and in love. . . . 
 Thereafter I addressed myself to some reading in my 
 
 Convocation book and Eoman history Since tea, 
 
 I have been busy preparing my discourses, and I do 
 pray that He would bless them. I had much hberty in 
 exhorting my little evening congregation and opening 
 to them the comfortable doctrine of the Divine Provi- 
 dence, and in praying for our souls, and the souls of all 
 men ; and now, dearest, twelve o’clock hath rung in my 
 ears, and having exhorted the household to timeous 
 hours on tlie Sabbath morning, I must not be slack to 
 give the example ; and that I may leave room for to- 
 morrow’s work, which I trust will be holy and blessed, 
 
 I part from you with few words, praying the Lord to 
 have you all in His holy keeping. But let me not forget 
 that this day, which I have improved to others, I ought 
 of all to improve the most carefully to Edward’s mother. 
 Every twelfth day of the month, my loving and be- \ 
 loved wife, let it be your first thought that your babe \ 
 is mortal, and that the father of your babe is mortal, ■ 
 and that you yourself are mortal ! and every twelfth f 
 day of the month, my loving and beloved wife, let it be j 
 your last thought tliat your babe is mortal, and that ( 
 the father of your babe is mortal, and that you yourself i 
 
31G 
 
 SUNDAY MOKNING. 
 
 are mortal. Do this that you may swallow up our 
 mortality in the glorious faith of our immortality in 
 the heavens. Farewell, my wife. Dwell for ever with 
 the Lord, my sister saint in Christ ; dwell for ever with 
 the Lord, my tender babe, and be blessed of Him, as He 
 was wont to bless such as thee. I pray the Lord to bless 
 all with whom you dwell, thou daughter of Abraham 
 and heir of the promise ! 
 
 Sabbath^ l^th November . — My dear Isabella, I have 
 finished the labours of another Sabbath, with much of 
 the presence of the Lord in the former part of the 
 day, and not so much in the evening. There must 
 have been some want of faith either in the writing or 
 delivery of my discourse, and I have besought the Lord 
 that he would preserve me during this week in a spiri- 
 tual frame of mind, and move within my soul right 
 thoughts and feelings for the salvation of my people ; 
 and I desire that you would ever on a Sabbath morning 
 pray the Lord to preserve my soul in a spirit of faith 
 and love all the day, and in the evening pray that He 
 would direct my mind to such subjects of meditation 
 
 and methods of handfing them as He will bless 
 
 I have been much exercised this last week with the 
 possibility of some trial coming to me from the resolute 
 stand which I have taken, and will maintain, upon the 
 subject of the fiberty of my ministry. For the spirit 
 of authority and rule in the church begins to grow 
 upon me, and I fear much there is not enough of the 
 spirit of obedience in our city churches to bear it. But 
 I am resolved, according as I am taught the duty of a 
 minister of the Gospel, to discharge it, and consider 
 everything that may befall as the will of the Lord. 
 
PRESENTIMENTS. 
 
 317 
 
 I was telling this to Mr. Dinwiddie this morning, for I 
 find, good men, they have all their little schemes, after 
 which they would hke to see me play my part, instead 
 of looking to me, as one under Christ’s authority, to 
 watch over the church, and to be honoured of the 
 church. The church was crowded both morning and 
 evening ; but I am prepared, if the Lord should see it 
 meet to try me here also, and I sometimes think I shall 
 be tried here at some time or other. Now, my notion : 
 is, that the Lord is very gracious to me at present, per- 
 mitting me to be strengthened ; that then Satan will 
 have power against me for a season by every form of i 
 trial — and, alas I there are too many open rivets in my 
 armour; — but that in the end the Lord, if I abide 
 
 faithful, will increase me with much honour I 
 
 thank God that I am very strong ; and even now (ten 
 o’clock) sleep begins to loose the curtains of my con- 
 ception, and twihght is settling in my mind 
 
 And now, dearest, I commend you and our little one 
 unto the Lord, and pray that the Lord may bless you 
 and preserve you for a blessing to these eyes. 
 
 ‘‘Monday^ \\th November , — My dear wife, this has 
 been a day sweetly varied with the good mercies of 
 God, who in various ways hath used His servant to 
 minister unto the comfort of His people, which I shall 
 now set forth to you in order, being full of gladness 
 and thankfulness. In the morning we had the Psalm 
 of our Lord’s humihations (Ixix.), and the chapter of 
 Job’s most pathetic lamentation and divine confidence 
 in his Eedeemer (xix.), upon which I have been able to 
 reflect more during the day by what I have seen, than 
 I was able to reflect unto my family, though I sought 
 
318 
 
 TKUE BROTHEEHOOD. 
 
 for words of exhortation. We were, besides our own, 
 
 Mr. J , a friend introduced by Pears; Eev. Mr. 
 
 Cox, of the Church of England, a calm, pious, and 
 charitable man, whom I met at Brighton ; and Sotto- 
 mayor, the soldier. I had to withstand the radicahsm 
 and village-town conceit of the first, who cut all ques- 
 tions with a keen blade of self-conceit, but neither of 
 wit nor understanding, in which I was greatly assisted 
 by the wisdom of Mr. Cox, who, having travelled, was 
 able to speak with authority ; and he dehghted me 
 with one declaration, that in the Catholic churches of 
 Italy he had never heard a sermon (though he had 
 heard many) which breathed of saints’ days and other 
 mummeries, but always of sohd theology, deep piety, 
 and much unction, and that he had met with many 
 whom he believed most spiritual. My dear, I have 
 often more concern about the issue of the intellectual 
 forms of our own Church, which tend to practical and 
 theoretical infidelity, than of the sensual forms of the 
 Eomish Church, which do tend to superstition, and still 
 preserve a faith, though it be of the sense. Anyway, 
 I give God praise that either with us or with them He 
 preserved! a seed. When they departed, poor Sarah 
 Evans came to me, troubled in her conscience, poor 
 girl, that she had not confessed to me all her sins ; and 
 she was about to open all her history in time past, when 
 I interrupted her, and would not allow her to proceed. 
 Poor thing ! I pity much her wandering mind, still 
 timorous and startled like one that had been lost, and 
 not sure of having found the way. I think I must 
 consult the elders about her. It is a hard case ; she is 
 truly spiritual, but has a certain instability and flutter 
 
THE PEODIGAL WIDOW. 
 
 319 
 
 in her judgment. . . . After her came a poor woman, 
 
 the sister of Mr. M‘W (formerly of Dumfriesshire), 
 
 who has been a prodigal for the last twenty-one years 
 in a far distant land of the West Indies, having followed 
 into dissipation a dissipated husband, buried ten chil- 
 dren, left one, and now returned in forma pauperis^ 
 
 — left upon the shore by the good Samaritan, who 
 provided her in a fortnight’s lodging, expecting that in 
 that time her brother, to Avhom he wrote, Avould be 
 eager to relieve her. But her brother seems more 
 ashamed of her than sorry for her, and dreads her 
 return to Scotland, and had written a letter, entreating 
 me to get her into an hospital, which I found on my 
 arrival. I liked its spirit iU, even before I had seen 
 her, and wrote that I would not recommend to any 
 hospital the sister of a Scotch clergyman in good cir- ^ 
 cumstances, except she should be wholly abandoned. 
 Still he writes me, inchning to the finding an asylum 
 for her in London, and wishing me to see her, which 
 this day I appointed by letter, for she fives all the way 
 at Shadwell, and is disabled of her side by a palsy. 
 And she came, — a poor picture of the prodigal, hum- 
 bled and penitent, and longing for her brother’s bosom 
 as ever the prodigal did for his father’s. ‘ I should 
 never be off my knees, I think, if I could but see John, 
 and partake of his prayers and counsels ; the Lord 
 would bring peace to my soul.’ And she wept ; and 
 she very sorely wept when I read her parts of her 
 brother’s letter, but confessed to her past sinfulness; and 
 before she went away her last words were, with many 
 tears, ‘ And teU him I am an altered woman.’ .... 
 
 So I sat down and wrote for the widow, and rebuked 
 
320 
 
 UNDIRECTED LETTERS. 
 
 my brother sharply, and told him he ought to make for 
 her a room around his fireside. What may be the 
 issue I know not ; but my part, God helping me, is to 
 
 help the prodigal widow 
 
 “ Then I went forth to visit Mrs. P , as I set 
 
 down in my letter ; but be thankful that letter went 
 not to the Dead Office, for giving a glance to the 
 object of my affections, whose name I thought 
 fairly inscribed, I found that it was fairly blank, 
 and had to get pen and ink at the receiving-house. 
 
 James P (who is very great in the highest 
 
 mathematics, and reads La Place’s Calculus of Gene- 
 rating Functions, which that greatest of calculators 
 has apphed to probabilities) immediately told me 
 that La Place observed, to show how constant causes 
 are, that the number of such undirected letters put 
 into the Paris post-office was year by year, as nearly 
 
 as possible, the same. When I went up to Mr. P ’s 
 
 shop I found his sister standing in it, and she took me 
 up to her mother’s sick-room, saying httle or nothing 
 by the way. And her mother took me by the hand, 
 and said, ‘ The Lord hath sent you this day, for my 
 Andrew is cast into prison.’ .... Andrew, you must 
 know, is betrothed to a young lady whom he has been 
 the instrument of converting to the Lord, and wdien he 
 
 left S ’s, being unresolved what to do with his httle 
 
 capital, which could not meet his present business, his 
 betrothed’s uncle said, ‘ Get your bills discounted, and 
 you shall not want for money ;’ for they had always 
 said that he was to have £500 on the wedding day, 
 and £500 afterwards. To this the servant of the Lord 
 trusting, sunk his money in his lease, trusting to have 
 
A LONDON SPONGING HOUSE. 
 
 321 
 
 his floating bills met by his Mend, who, growing cool 
 because Andrew did not instantly succeed, withdraws 
 his promises, and leaves our Mend in deep waters ; and 
 deals with his niece to send poor Andrew all his letters, 
 and to request hers in return. This took place on 
 Friday, and this day, at breakfast, two of the officers 
 of justice, at the instance of a creditor, came, and he 
 went with them. Thus was his mother left, and thus 
 I found her all but overcome. I comforted her as I 
 could, and prayed with her as I could, and saw that 
 something was to be done as well as said. So coming 
 down, I sat down to write in the back shop, while his 
 sister sought some clue to the creditor’s address, that I 
 
 might find the prison So I proceeded by Cary 
 
 Street, and, after diligent search, found Andrew in a 
 house of which the door is kept always locked, seated 
 with three men who seemed doleful enough — one 
 resting his forehead on his hands, another rechning on 
 a sofa, and the third contemplating, half miserably, 
 half sottishly, a pint of porter. Andrew was close by 
 the chimney corner. We communed together, and he 
 was as calm and cheerful as Joseph, having Joseph’s 
 trust ; and of a truth, yesterday, he seemed to his own 
 household lifted above himself. And he had tasted 
 my evening discourse upon the mimster’s wayfaring, 
 raven-brood life to be very good. And it is marvellous, 
 we concluded our service with the 34 — 37 verses of the 
 37th Psalm, — as if the Lord would encourage me with 
 respect to that service of which I desponded to you 
 last night. While I talked with dear Andrew, not 
 knowing but the others were the watchful officers of 
 justice, he upon the sofa struck his forehead and 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Y 
 
322 
 
 JOSEPH m PRISON. 
 
 started to his feet with a maniac air, crying, ‘ Oh, 
 God, the horrors are coining upon me ! ’ and wildly, 
 very wildly, strode through the room ; so that I was 
 standing to my arms, lest he might be moved of Satan 
 against me for the words which I was speaking to 
 Andrew. And he with his hand upon his head wept, 
 and the other man would comfort with ‘ patience ’ — 
 ‘ philosophy.’ But the wounded man continued to 
 burst out, and stride on, and beat his forehead. Whence 
 we gathered that he had been there for a whole month, 
 daily expecting releasement, but none came, every 
 message worse than another ; and ever and anon he 
 spoke of his wife. Then, when his fit was over, in 
 which he talked of people putting an end to them- 
 selves, and of the fits of horror which broke his sleep, 
 I addressed words of comfort to him, and prevailed to 
 soothe him ; so that, when I came away, he said, ‘ It 
 were well for us to receive many such visits. Sir.’ But 
 I must break off — the night wears very late, and I 
 am getting too much moved. The Lord bless, for the 
 night, my loving and beloved wife, and the Lord bless 
 our baptized babe — our httle daughter of the Lord ! 
 
 “ Tuesday^ Ihth. — Andrew, who realised to me the 
 idea of Joseph in prison, had come away in great 
 haste, and omitted to take his Bible with him, which 
 I supplied with my far-travelled and dear companion, 
 now bound firmly as at the first. Those storms which 
 I encountered upon the Yarrow mountains melted the 
 cover of my writing-desk, and firmly bound the loose 
 back of my Bible. Leaving Andrew, I proceeded to my 
 engagement at six o’clock in Fleet Market, which was 
 to visit Miss M , and her brother and sister, who hve 
 
FEOM HOUSE TO HOUSE. 
 
 323 
 
 with her. Their father dead, their mother in Essex, and 
 two married brothers in town, so estranged from her by 
 selfishness and worldliness, that ‘ if five shillings would 
 save me from death, I hardly think I could muster it 
 amongst all my relations.’ Oh, what a blessing to 
 Scotland are her family ties ! Families here are only 
 associations under one roof for a few years, to issue in 
 alienation and estrangement : I am grieved at my 
 heart to witness it. But she abides strong in the 
 
 Lord Her brother gave wonderful ear to me. 
 
 My words entered deep, for he wept almost continually, 
 and was much overpowered ; and I do trust in the 
 Lord that the lad may be brought to a more obedient 
 and loving spirit towards his sister. Having finished a 
 very sweet visitation, to which there came in an old 
 woman, and a boy about to proceed to North America, 
 
 whom I also exhorted, I hastened to Mrs. P ’s, in 
 
 order to set her mind, and especially her imagination, at 
 rest, which would be conjuring a thousand ideal 
 frights about a prison. Which having done with much 
 consolation to my own spirit, I called as I passed at 
 Bedford Square to see if anything had happened 
 
 untoward, but found that all was well Mr. 
 
 Scoresby was still sitting, and after I had taken a cup 
 of tea, we came on our ways together, enjoying much 
 delightful discourse. The Lord is opening his mind 
 wonderfully to the right apprehension of the minis- 
 terial office. I arrived not at home till about ten 
 o’clock, and assembled the family for worship ; and 
 after writing the above, I went to bed and dreamt a 
 dream of sweet thoughts — that I was sitting at Jesus’s 
 feet and learning the way to discharge my ofiice. 
 
3£4 
 
 CHKISTIAN INTEECOUESE. 
 
 having only six days to hear from the Divine Instructor, 
 at which time He was to remove from the earth. 
 
 “ I was much refreshed by the sweet thoughts of the 
 night, and arose very cheerful ; and while the family 
 was at worship, Mr. Scoresby and Mr. Hamilton came 
 in, whom I had invited on purpose to meet one another. 
 Our morning was passed in sweet discourse, and after- 
 wards I opened to Mr. Scoresby, in my own study, 
 many of my views concerning the Church : into some 
 he could enter, and into others not. But he is grow- 
 ing richly in divine knowledge, and I praise the Lord 
 for his sake. We prayed together before he went 
 away, and I invited him when he came back to make 
 
 his home with us Then I addressed myself to 
 
 my discourse on the bondage of law, and having 
 wrought that vein till I was wearied, I betook myself 
 to the correcting of another proof, and had gone over 
 it once, and was about concluding the second reading, 
 when a letter from Wm. Hamilton announced that Mr. 
 David was much worse, and a few hours might termi- 
 nate his life. Thereupon I left all, and proceeded to 
 the house of death. On my way I met Mr. Simon 
 
 proceeding to Bath in order to build up certain 
 churches there who have besought his presence. We 
 commended each other to the Lord, and took our 
 several ways. I found Mr. David still hving, and some 
 faint hopes of amendment ; but I am prepared for the^ 
 
 worsts which I doubt not is the best I wrote a 
 
 letter to Willie, who is at Norwich at school, opening 
 
 the afflicting intelligence to him as best I could 
 
 I returned in time to get my proof-sheet finished for 
 the post ; since which I have been labouring up the hill 
 
DOMESTIC WORSHIP. 
 
 325 
 
 with my lecture upon the pious women who ministered 
 unto Christ ; when, at nine o’clock, a lady came in to 
 enjoy the privilege of our prayers. At the church on 
 Wednesday evening a sorrowful lady asked me if it 
 was true that I read prayers at my own house and 
 permitted people to come. I said, at family worship I 
 dehght to comfort and encourage the hearts of all who 
 are present, and if you come on a spiritual errand you 
 shall be welcome. So this night she came, and hath 
 opened to me her sorrows. Three months ago she 
 lost her only boy, after three years’ illness, during 
 which she watched him continually ; and now she is 
 alone in the world, with a memory haunted and a 
 heart stunned and broken, knowing little of the spiritual, 
 and dwelling much in the imagination. His sufferings 
 had been extreme, and his death frightful ; and his 
 poor mother, not more than your years, is now alone 
 
 in this great city, which to her is a great desert 
 
 Her husband was a Sicilian, and died before the boy 
 
 was born She wanted to know if she would 
 
 know her son m heaven. I could have wept for her, 
 but I saw she needed another treatment, and therefore 
 rebuked, but with kindness, her imaginations, and 
 showed her the way to the spmtual world, whither I 
 
 pray the Lord to lead her The Lord enable me 
 
 to direct her in the way of peace Thus another 
 
 day has passed with its various incidents and various 
 blessings. I have been oft in it enjoying near com- 
 munion with God, and oft I have been cold and life- 
 less. When shall I be wholly with the Lord ? I do 
 desire His abiding presence — the light of His counte- 
 nance Now may the Lord be the canopy over 
 
326 
 
 A DEATH-BED. 
 
 your head, and over the head of the babe, this night, 
 and over mine, enveloping us in the everlasting arms ! 
 
 Wednesday^ l^th November . — Our dear, dear friend 
 is no more. He departed about five o’clock, in exactly 
 that frame of spirit which, above all others, I would 
 wish to die myself in. .... In the five weeks of his 
 sore affliction his robust and zealous spirit has had the 
 meekness of a httle child, and as a httle child he was 
 
 taught of the Spirit in a wonderful way The 
 
 propitiation of Christ and his own unworthiness were 
 his chief meditations, and continued so to the last. 
 During that time a worldly care has not crossed his lips. 
 His soul has been full of love to all, and of great, great 
 affection to me. I know not that I have one left who 
 
 loved me as he did He accompanied me to the 
 
 ship, with Mr. Hamilton, when I came to see you and 
 little Edward ; now he is gone in London, and Edward 
 hes in his cold grave in Scotland ; and I am left, and 
 you are left, whom I feared lest I should lose ; and left 
 we are, dearest, to bear fruit unto God, and fruit 
 we will bear unto God, being cleansed by the word of 
 Christ, and supported by the juices and nourishment of 
 the vine, and dressed by the hands of our heavenly 
 Father. Let us watch and exhort one another, as I 
 now do you, my dearest wife, to much frequent private 
 communion with God. This was what our friend had 
 resolved to apply himself to with more dihgence than 
 ever if it had been the will of the Father to spare him. 
 About three o’clock, I received a message from Wm. 
 Hamilton that he was fast fading away, and had ex- 
 pressed a wish to see me. I had proposed going about 
 two hours after ; these two hours would have lost me 
 
A GOOD VOYAGE. 
 
 327 
 
 the sweetest parting in my life — my child first born 
 unto Christ, at least who is known to me. I found him 
 far gone in breathlessness, but lively in hearmg, quick 
 in understanding, and full of the Spirit of hfe. He 
 stretched out his hand to me ; his other was stretched 
 
 to his wife, on the other side of the bed I 
 
 prayed with him, and afterward continued, at intervals, 
 to supply his thoughts with pregnant scriptures. •' I re- 
 peated to him the 23rd Psalm, in which he was wont to 
 have such delight. This revived him very much, and he 
 uttered several things with a grave, full, deep voice, in- 
 terrupted by his want of breath. ‘ My whole hope, trust, 
 and dependence is in the mercy of God, who sent His 
 
 Son to save the meanest.’ I saw death close at 
 
 hand, and drew near and took his hand. His breathing 
 deepened, and became more like distinct gasps. And it 
 failed, and failed, until his lungs did their office no more, 
 and he died without a struggle of a limb, or the dis- 
 composure of a muscle — his mouth open as it had drawn 
 its last breath — his eye fixed still on me ; and we stood 
 silent, silent around him. Then Mr. Bedome closed his 
 eyelids. I know not why they do so. I loved to look on 
 Edward’s. Dear, lovely corpse of Edward, what a sweet 
 tabernacle was that over which thy mother and I wept 
 so sadly ! My much beloved child, my much-cherished, 
 much-beloved child, dwell in the mercies of my God, 
 and the God of thy mother! We will follow thee be- 
 times, God strengthening us for the journey. I had still 
 an hour to sit with Mrs. David, and to write sweet 
 William and his grandfather. She was comforted, and 
 I left her tranquil. Mr. Hamilton, who is much affected, 
 was seated below, in the dining-room, and we came to 
 
328 
 
 THE THEOLOGY OF MEDICINE. 
 
 the Church together, when I discoursed from the 24th 
 and 25th verses of the 14th chapter of John, and made 
 known to them the good intelligence that our brother 
 had had a good voyage so far as we could follow him, 
 or hear tidings from him. Every one seemed deeply 
 affected, and all whom I talked with were sensibly 
 
 rejoiced Thus another of my flock has gone to 
 
 the Chief Shepherd Andrew P brought me 
 
 up my Bible, having been dehvered last night, and 
 giving thanks unto God. I love him much ; his mother, 
 also, is better. So that the Lord hath shined from 
 
 behind the cloud J ames P is a very sweet 
 
 companion. Hall is still weakly. The rest are well. I 
 fight a hard fight, but let me never forsake private 
 communion, or I perish. The Lord bless you and our 
 dear babe. I wish I were refreshed with a sight of you 
 both. 
 
 Thursday^ two o’clock . — I have had such a conversa- 
 tion with one of my congregation, a medical man,upon the 
 subject of what I would call ‘the theology of medicine,’ 
 as made me sorry you were not present to hear it. But 
 in good time, when you are restored to me, you shall 
 hear him often ; for he is both a gentleman, a man of 
 science — the true science of nature — and a Christian. 
 He discoursed upon infants, and the treatment of 
 infants, so well and wisely, that I could not let this 
 letter go without noting to you one or two things.*. . . 
 
 “ Thursday .,Vlth Nov . — My dear Isabella, nothing is 
 
 * Here follows a minute record of the ad^^ice he had just received, 
 reported with the most grave and anxious particularity, but con- 
 cluding thus : “ To these rules give no more confidence than seems 
 to your own mind good, and put your trust in the providence and 
 blessing of Almighty God.” 
 
THE GLORY OF GOD. 
 
 329 
 
 of such importance as to have a distinct view of the end 
 of all our labours under the sun — our studies, our con- 
 versations, our cares, our desires, and whatever else 
 constitutes our being. For though many of these seem 
 to come by hazard, without any end in view, beheve 
 me, my dear, that every habit arose out of an end, 
 either of our own good or some other good desirable 
 in our eyes ; and that the several acts contained under 
 that label go to strengthen that end which it carried 
 with it from the beginning. Now, dearest, our one, i 
 only end should be the glory of God, and our one, only 
 way of attaining that end by the fulfilment of His will ; 
 and the only means of knowing that will is by the faith 
 of His word ; and the only strength for possessing it is 
 the love, desire, and joy which are begotten in us by , 
 the Holy Ghost. Therefore be careful, my dear sister 
 in Christ, to occupy your thoughts and cares with some 
 form of the divine revelation, and to have before the 
 eye of your faith some divine end present or distant, — 
 yea, both present and distant ; and then shall you have 
 communion with the Father and with his Son Jesus 
 Christ from morning to evening. This attempt, this 
 succeed in, not by the force of natural will, which will 
 make such a hirpling, hobbling gait of it, but by the 
 practical redemption of your Saviour, which will by 
 degrees clear you of the former slough, and feather 
 your callow nakedness, and give you wings with which 
 to mount up into the exalted region of life. Have ever 
 in view the glory of God, and ever seek help to it by 
 prayer, and the Lord himself will lead you into the 
 way. These thoughts occurred to me as I came home 
 from Bedford Square, where I took dinner with our dear 
 
830 
 
 HUSKINESS ABOUT THE HEAET. 
 
 friends, and I resolved I would write them for your 
 sake. I spent the morning in study upon the help 
 which women may afford and have afforded in the 
 Church, and have brought my lecture nearly to a close ; 
 so that I have to-morrow and next day for the great 
 theme of legal bondage on which I have entered. I 
 would, and earnestly pray that I might, keep my 
 thoughts during study intent upon the glory of Grod 
 and the promotion of Christ’s kingdom. And it were 
 not dutiful if I did not acknowledge that the Lord is 
 bringing me into a region of nearer communion. But 
 I cannot tell what huskiness there is about my heart, 
 ■and in my discourse what seeking after intellectual or 
 imaginary forms. Oh, that I could feel the very truth, 
 and rejoice with the free joy of its inheritance! During 
 my study. Dr. Wilkins came in, and discoursed to me 
 for about an hour with a simphcity and beauty which 
 ravished me. If he do not prove visionary upon further 
 acquaintance — if his practical understanding be per- 
 fectly sound, then he is the greatest accession to my 
 acquaintance since I became acquainted with Mr. Frere, 
 and will prove to me, in all that respects the chemistry 
 of the bodily constitution, what other leaders have 
 been to me in respect to the mental and the spiritual. 
 The Lord hath showed me such marvellous kindness, 
 in respect of teachers, that I cannot enough praise Him. 
 . . . The object of his discourse was to prove that 
 nature had no tendency to any disease, but wholly the 
 reverse ; and that, were it not our ignorance and per- 
 versity, we would come to our full age, and drop into 
 the grave as a shock of corn in its season ; and he 
 began his demonstration from the condition of the 
 
THE SPIEIT OF A MAN. 
 
 331 
 
 child. . . . There was much more he had to dis- 
 course of, but I told him I had enough for the present, 
 and would hear him another time. He is a man of 
 fine manners and a sweet nature, — of continued ac- 
 knowledgment of God and blame of man 
 
 Now, dearest, I have put all this down for your sake, 
 that you might meditate upon it, and make the use of 
 it which you judge best. The man you will hke ex- 
 ceedingly, that I know full well, because we are of 
 one spirit now, or fast growing into one spirit — praised 
 
 be the mercy of our God The Lord be gracious 
 
 to you and all the house. I pray for you and baby, 
 
 I oft think, with more earnestness than for myself, 
 which is sentiment, and not faith. The Lord edify us 
 in one most holy faith ; and Mary also, whose salvation 4~ 
 I earnestly desire. Amen. 
 
 Friday^ IMi . — My dear Isabella, there is no point 
 of wisdom, human or divine, so carefully to be attended 
 to, for one’s own good, or for the knowledge and good 
 of others, as the spirit which men are of. For the 
 spirit draws after it the understanding, and determines 
 the views which men take of every subject, in the 
 world of sight or in the world of faith. Some people 
 remain under the spirit of their minds, and become in- 
 tensely selfish. But the social principle leads the several 
 spirits to congregate together for mutual defence and 
 encouragement. First of all there is the Holy Spirit, 
 whose communion constitutes the true Church of Christ, 
 and you may be sure their opinions will be orthodox 
 doctrine, charitable sentiment, sweet, patient temper, 
 and, in short, transcripts of Christ Jesus our Lord. 
 Then there is the worldly spirit, which is one in respect 
 
332 DIFFERENT FORMS OF THE WORLDLY SPIRIT. 
 
 of its opposition to the former, and intolerance of all its 
 opinions ; but in respect to itself, is divided into many, 
 its name being Legion. Of these I find to prevail at 
 present the following: — 1st. Around you in Scotland 
 there is the spirit of the human understanding^ of which 
 scepticism of all things that cannot be expressed with 
 logical precision is the characteristic, and an utter ab- 
 horrence of all mystery ; whereas, as you know, to the 
 Holy Spirit of simphcity everything is a mystery un- 
 folding itself more and more. There is also the spirit 
 of self-sufficiency, which characterizes our countrymen 
 above measure. With us we have the spirit of expedi- 
 ency, which calculates what it can foresee, and accounts 
 all beyond to be void and unreclaimed chaos ; it is 
 utterly fruitless of any principle self-directing in the 
 human soul, and would make man wholly under the 
 influence of outward things. Of this class Owen is the 
 fool. About the universities of England is the spirit of 
 antiquity, which prizes what is recondite and difficult 
 of discovery, and runs out into Egyptian expeditions to 
 the pyramids and the tombs. And amongst the common 
 people there is, in direct opposition to this, the spirit 
 of radicalism, which hath no reverence for antiquity, 
 or indeed for anything but its own projections. In the 
 Church here there is the sphit of formahty, which often 
 ascends into very high regions of beauty and comeh- 
 ness, but wants the living, acting, confirming principle 
 • — is but an Apollo Belvedere or a Venus de’ Medici 
 after all, — not a hving, acting, self-directing principle. 
 I have not time nor strength to open the subject philo- 
 sophically, but I have said enough to lead your medi- 
 tations to it, which is all that I desire. For observe 
 
TRY THE SPIRITS. 
 
 333 
 
 you, my dear, that if you be of the right spirit, all 
 things will right themselves in the eyesight of your ^ 
 mind. Hence the Holy Spirit is called also the spirit 
 of truth. We do not get right by conning our opinions 
 back over again, but we change our opinions, as we do 
 our dress, from a change in our spirit. Therefore these 
 are often not hypocrites, but rash men, who are seen so 
 suddenly to change their sides. And true conversion ] 
 draws with it an alteration of all our opinions ; and 
 conversion is properly defined as a change of spirit. 
 How often do people say. It was all true he said, but 
 spoken in a bad spirit. Noav if you wish to be right, 
 seek communion with the Holy Spirit ; and if you wish 
 to know whom you ought to listen to, by what manner 
 of spirit he is of, try the spirits whether they be of 
 God. Milton could not say, Jesus is the Son of God, 
 because he would not yield to the Holy Spirit, but pre- 
 ferred the spirit of radicahsm ; and as no one can know 
 the Father but he to whom the Son revealeth Him, so 
 no one knoweth the Son but he to whom the Spmt 
 revealeth Him. And what is meant by having right 
 opinions, or being wise, but to know the Son who is 
 truth? And much more remains, which I may perhaps 
 write hereafter. 
 
 “ I gave God thanks for your letter, and for the 
 answer of my prayers that you continued to stand 
 fast in the Lord. With respect to your journey, 
 you will easily reach Dumfries by postmg it ; and 
 I think you ought to take the road by Biggar, Thorn- 
 hill, and the Nith, as being the more pleasant, and I 
 think, if anything, the more sheltered of the two ; 
 although, in that respect, both are bleak enough ; . . . 
 
334 
 
 A BENEDICTION TO THE ABSENT. 
 
 from Annan you had better take the way by Newcastle, 
 and thence to Mr. Bell’s, of Boswell, which I understand 
 to be within seven miles of York, and I would meet 
 you there. . . . From Annan you will bring me 
 two or three pairs of a shoe of a passing good form for 
 my foot. Nothing has occurred to me to-day worth 
 mentioning. I have enjoyed the presence of God be- 
 yond my deservings. I preached to Mr. N ’s 
 
 people, and recognise in them improvement, as I hope ; 
 much in him. There was one idea which occurred to 
 me worth writing. Hoa^ vain is it for man to trust in 
 God’s mercy, when His own Son, though He cried hard 
 for it, could find none, but had to drink the cup of 
 justice ! I am weary. The Lord be with you all ! 
 
 ‘‘ Saturday^ \^th November. — I am so fatigued, dear 
 Isabella, that I dare not venture to write ; but will not 
 retire to rest without inserting, upon this record of my 
 dearest thoughts, a husband’s and a father’s blessing 
 upon his dear wife and child. 
 
 “ Sabbath^ 20^A November. — I have reason this night 
 again to bless the Lord for His goodness to His 
 unworthy servant, for I have been much supported, 
 and have had great liberty given me to wrestle with 
 the souls of the people ; but I want much the grace of 
 wrestling with the Lord for their sake. I feel daily 
 drawn, like the prophet Daniel, to some great and con- 
 tinued act of humiliation and earnest supplication for 
 the Church, but Satan hindereth me. And yet I doubt 
 not the Lord will work in me this victory, and that by 
 your help I shall yet be able to wait upon the Lord 
 night and day, and to weep between the altar and 
 tabernacle for the souls of the people. Lideed, I have 
 
VISIONS OF THE NIGHT. 
 
 335 
 
 already planned that when the Lord restores you to my 
 sight (in spirit we are never parted), we shall pass an 
 hour of every day, from four till five, in our own 
 room, with no presence but the presence of God, which 
 we will earnestly entreat : and we will rest from our 
 great labours that hour, and meditate of our everlasting 
 rest. Before entering upon this day’s labours, I will 
 look back upon yesterday, that you may be informed 
 of one or two things which will be pleasant to your 
 ear. The death of our friend David hath wrought 
 wonderfully for good with us all, so that men busy 
 with the world have wept hke children ; and all have, 
 
 I think, had the spiritual seasoning intermingled with 
 the natural feeling. It wrought upon me in the way 
 of greater earnestness of spiritual communion ; and I 
 thmk yesterday morning, in the visions of the night, I ^ 
 was conscious of the sweetest enjoyments of the soul V 
 I ever knew. There was no vision presented to my 
 sight in my dream, but there was a sense of deeper 
 meaning and clearer understanding given to our Lord’s 
 parting discourse, which filled me with a spiritual 
 delight ; a light of spiritual glory that was unspeakably 
 mild and delightful. I awoke fuU of thanksgiving and 
 praise, and bowed myself upon my bed, and gave 
 thanks, and arose to my labours. I break off for 
 worship. The Lord be in the midst of us ! 
 
 “ In reading the last half of the 1 6th chapter of j 
 John, I was struck with the 23rd and 24th verses, 
 which show us why the Lord’s prayer was not con- 
 cluded in Christ’s name — because he was not Intercessor 
 and High Priest tiU after His death. He was perfected, 
 that is, consecrated (for the word for consecration was 
 
336 
 
 SUNDAY. 
 
 then perfecting), by sufferings. In the days of His flesh 
 He had no mediatorial power, but was conquering it 
 to Himself and His Church ; and therefore He called 
 upon them to rejoice that He was to go away. Now to 
 return. All the day long I continued in study, with 
 walks in the garden and relaxations of history, until 
 after two o’clock, when I bore Mr. P company to 
 
 Bedford Square Thence I proceeded to the house 
 
 of affliction Now I come to the labours, the 
 
 blessed labours, of the Sabbath. This morning I awoke 
 at six, but was too weary to rise till eight ; and having 
 gone over my sermon, with my pen in my hand, to 
 bring it to very truth as nearly as I know it, I went to 
 church with Mr. Hinwiddie, who enters cordially with 
 me into prayer, and is desirous of a more spiritual 
 discourse than when you used to walk with him. After 
 Psalms and prayer, in which I had no small communion, 
 
 we perused the 4th of Hebrews Then I 
 
 commenced my discourse on Gal. ii. 14, upon the 
 bondage of law, opening the whole subject of justifi- 
 cation by faith, upon which I intend to discourse at 
 large ; and I presented them first with a view of the 
 dignity of the law, both outward in the state and 
 
 inward in the soul (But it has struck 
 
 twelve ; the Lord bless thee and the child, and rest us 
 this night in the arms of His love and mercy, so as we 
 may arise as to a resurrection of hfe against to-morrow ! 
 Amen.) To-morrow is come, and I am still in the land 
 of the living to praise and glorify my Creator and 
 Eedeemer ; which having done according to my weak- 
 ness, I sit down to my pleasant labour, after many inci- 
 dents which must form part of my next despatch. 
 
THE MINISTRY OF WOMEN. 
 
 337 
 
 Then showing them the Charybdis of licentiousness 
 upon the other side of the fair way, into which Anti- 
 nomians and other loose declaimers against the law did 
 carry miserable souls, and where also superstition and 
 Methodism did bind them in bare bondage after they 
 had seduced them from the wholesome restraints of law, 
 into which law they ought to have breathed the spirit 
 of true obedience — I concluded by entreating their 
 prayers that I might be enabled to handle this vast 
 subject with power, and love, and a sound mind (which 
 
 I again beseech of you also) 
 
 “ In the evening I was feeble in prayer, to begin 
 with, no doubt from want of faith ; but the Lord 
 strengthened me towards the close, otherwise I think 
 I should not have had heart to go on with the ser- 
 vice, I felt so spirit- stricken My lecture was 
 
 upon the ministry of women in their proper sphere 
 in the church, which I drew out of the Scriptures 
 by authority ; and by the same authority limited 
 and restrained from authority, either in word or in 
 discipline, to the gentle and tender ministry of love, 
 and devotion of goods and personal services, which 
 afforded me a sweet and gracious topic to descant 
 upon, in defence of female hberty, and emancipation 
 from worldly and fashionable prudential laws and 
 tyrannies of decorum, false delicacy, and other base 
 bondages ; aU which I set off with the historical illus- 
 trations of woman s vast services, martyrdoms, shelter 
 of the persecuted, care of the poor, to the seemmg con- 
 viction of the people ; and concluded with a summary 
 of a Christian woman’s duties in her various relations ; 
 and insisted upon them, as they were members of my 
 VOL. I. 
 
 z 
 
338 
 
 MOENING VISITOES. 
 
 cliurcli, to be helpful to me, or else I saw no prospect 
 
 of any growth of communion in the midst of us 
 
 Dearest, I have set forth many things in this letter for 
 your meditation. They are seeds of thought (rather) 
 than thoughts ; the spirit of truth (rather) than the 
 doctrines of truth. Think on these things, and meditate 
 them much, and the Lord give you understanding in 
 all things. Lor our babe we can do nothing but pray 
 unto the Lord, and cease from anxiety^ living in faith ; 
 
 and cease from anxiety^ living in faith 
 
 ‘‘Monday^ 21st November^ 1825. — May the Lord of 
 His great mercy fill my soul with the fulness of love 
 to my dear wife ; that, as Christ loved the Church, I 
 may love her, and in like manner manifest with all 
 gracious words my unity of soul with her soul ; that 
 we may be one as Thou, our Creator, didst intend 
 man and woman to be from the beginning. This day, 
 dearest, hath been to me a day of much and varied 
 activity, which, being full of reflection and conflict, I 
 shall recount in order. After good rest, which, by 
 the blessing of God, my wearied head doth constantly 
 enjoy, I arose about eight, and, being outwardly and 
 inwardly apparelled, I came down to fulfil the will of 
 
 God, whatever it might be, and found Mr. M , the 
 
 artist, and Mr. S , also an artist, of whom I wrote 
 
 to you, as being one of my communicants, with whom 
 and the family, having worshipped the God of our 
 salvation, while breakfast was arranging in the other 
 
 room by good Mrs. Hall, Miss W and another 
 
 lady came to wait upon me, whom I went to see. The 
 
 lady is a Mrs. S , dwelling in the city, who has been 
 
 much blessed by my ministry, and was brought to it in 
 
A DREAM. 
 
 339 
 
 this wonderful way, as she told it me from her own 
 lips. She had been much tried by a worthless husband, 
 of whom you know there are so many in this tie- 
 dissolving city; and in the midst of her sorrowful 
 nights she dreamed a dream : that she was carried to 
 a church, of which the form and court, even to two 
 trees which grew over the wall, were impressed upon her 
 mind ; and there she heard a minister, whose form and 
 dress, to the very shape of his gown, was also impressed 
 upon her, who preached to her from these words : 
 ‘Blessed are ye poor, for yours is the kingdom of 
 heaven.’ This she communicated to one of her com- 
 forting friends, to whom, describing the gown^ she an- 
 swered that he must be a Scotch minister who was 
 intended by the vision, for they are the only people 
 who wear that kind of gown. She had already heard 
 Dr. Manuel and Dr. Waugh, but was sure they answered 
 not to the figure of the vision ; but, as she passed a 
 window, she saw a print of me, and was impressed with 
 the resemblance. Heretofore she had been deterred 
 from coming near me by the crowd, but now she re- 
 solved some evening to come ; and, having taken a 
 friend’s house by the way, they strongly gainsayed her 
 purpose, and would have taken her elsewhere with 
 them, and all but prevailed. This detained her beyond 
 the hour, and, when she returned, our psalm and prayer 
 were over, and I was naming the subject of lecture, 
 and the first words that fell upon her ears were the 
 words of her dream : ‘ Blessed are ye poor, for yours 
 is the kingdom of heaven.’ She stood in the midst of 
 a crowd' hardly able to stand, and beheld and heard all 
 which had been revealed to her in the visions of the 
 
S40 
 
 SCEPTICS. 
 
 night. ... Is not this very marvellous, dear Isabella, 
 and very gracious, that the Lord should comfort His 
 people by such a worm as I am ? I exhorted her to 
 abide steadfast, and to come again and see me. 
 
 “ When breakfast was over, I brought Mr. S with 
 
 me into the hbrary, whose heart, I perceived, was full of 
 some matter, who told me, with an artlessness and alarm 
 which showed his happy ignorance of our town infidelity, 
 that a cousin of his had, in the course of religious conver- 
 sation, declared his disbelief of Jesus being the son of 
 David, and disputed the genealogies, and had maintained 
 that in Joshua’s time they were but poor geographers, 
 otherwise they would never have alleged that the sun 
 stood still. I was at pains to instruct him, and to teach 
 him the subtle arts of the tempter, but he concluded 
 by saying that it was not for himself, but for his cousin, 
 that he was concerned, and the big tear filled his eye 
 when he said it. I entreated him to bring his cousin 
 some night at our hour of prayer, and I would do my 
 endeavour to set him right. How I had received, this 
 
 very morning, a letter from one Gavin H , a poor 
 
 infidel, craving that I would preach a discourse upon 
 the character of God, which he could not understand 
 to be both merciful and vindictive ; and I had received 
 two other letters, one with a pamphlet, craving help of 
 me against the infidel Taylor, who is poisoning the City 
 at such a rate ; and having likewise been entreated by 
 two men to attend a meeting in John Street Chapel 
 upon the subject of the District Society for Evangelizing 
 the Poor, I resolved to attend, though somewhat 
 against my intention, considering that these things, put 
 together, were a sort of call of Providence. Having 
 
THE FOUR SPIRITS. 
 
 341 
 
 dismissed Mr. S , I had communion with Mr. M , 
 
 whom Mr. A had been in much fear about lately, 
 
 • lest lie should be falling back, through the love of a 
 young woman, and the companionship of her family, 
 who were not spiritual. To this subject, introducing 
 myself gently, modestly, and tenderly, I came and 
 spoke upon it with feeling, as liaving been in hke 
 manner tried ; — for in what way have I not been 
 tempted, and, alas ! overcome in all .^ ... . 
 
 “ Then, being left alone, I sought to relieve my mind 
 by perusing the history of those wonderful instruments of 
 God, the Eoman people, not without prayer that the Lord 
 would interpret the record of His providence to my soul. 
 And I think that I was edified in it, until I had gathered 
 strength to finish your letter, which Brightwell inter- 
 rupted me in, to whom I revealed all my convictions 
 of the spirits that were abroad in tlie world, and which 
 were defacing the glory of the Church : the radical ' 
 spirit among the Dissenters, the intellectual spirit in the 
 Scottish Churches, the spirit of expediency among the 
 Evangehcals. He could not see along with me through- 
 out, but he saw more than most men I converse with. 
 Do pray that the Lord may enable me clearly to dis- 
 cern truth, and steadfastly to bear testimony to it ! It 
 is a Jesuitical spirit that is opposing Christ among the 
 Meth, odists. And these four spirits are so weakening 
 the being of the Church, and corrupting the life which 
 is fakh, that, though their numbers may increase, it will 
 still be true, ‘ When the Son of Man cometh shall He 
 find faith on the earth 
 
 “ I had engaged to dine with Mr. H at four 
 
 o’clock. ... I knew not that anything was waiting me 
 
342 
 
 EELIGIOUS BELLES.- 
 
 there. But where is not the minister of the Lord wanted, 
 in this distressed, imprisoned, and rebellious earth ? The 
 old man was ill, and they had been forced to bleed him. 
 1 went in to see him on liis bed, and would have prayed 
 with him, but he professed he was not able to hear me. 
 Ah, Isabella, I fear for that old man : I greatly fear his 
 soul is asleep and will not awake. Make your prayer 
 for him, for he also shall be required at your husband’s 
 
 hand. There are two Miss F ’s, cousins of the 
 
 family, come to spend the winter, who talked much 
 hke the young women of Edinburgh, chattering a vain 
 palaver about ministers, and music, and organs, with 
 which I would have nothing to do. But, after tea, I 
 began to talk to them all, concerning the things of their 
 
 peace, and was led by Mrs. H ’s questions to unfold 
 
 the judicial blindness to which men are at length shut 
 up, and to open the whole matter of our dependence 
 upon the Father, which was mightily confirmed by the 
 first half of the 17th chapter of Jolm, which is a mar- 
 V vellous acknowledgment of the Father’s sovereignty. 
 f I pray you to read it and learn humility, self-emptying 
 humility, and profound nothingness in your prayers. 
 They all wept, the rehgious belles as well as the rest ; 
 and a young nephew, half-caste, about to sail for India, 
 wept with a very full heart, after I had prayed with 
 them all. I trust that family is growing in grace, 
 and I fear they have long abidden formalists. Eemem- 
 ber this one thing, my Isabella, that we who have 
 believed are by covenant to be brought into the full 
 inheritance, but according to the Lord’s time and pro- 
 portion ; but surely as He hath sworn, Ave shall inherit, 
 therefore abide Avaiting, abide Avaiting (how long did 
 
BEST MANNER OF CONTENDING WITH INFIDELITY. 343 
 
 He wait for us!), waiting in perfect faith of being 
 led in. 
 
 “ I took the John Street Church by the way, and 
 heard them deliberating about an expedient to meet 
 Taylor’s blasphemous tract, that is soon to be published. 
 They are very busy, these enemies of the Lord. He 
 cannot bear it long. They are carrying the people 
 like a stream away from God. But I told them it was 
 not by the expedient of tract-writing or circulating, or 
 controversial worl^ but by manifestation of the truth 
 to the conscience, that they were to prevail ; and that, 
 when they found the people upon that ground they 
 should answer them with a caveat, that the matter at 
 issue was not there, still giving them a reason with 
 meekness and fear ; but shift the ground as fast as pos- 
 sible, not because the ground Avas not tenable, but 
 because the kingdom was to be contended for elsewhere. 
 That the teachers ought to assemble to make them- 
 selves masters of the infidel’s fence, in order to interpose 
 their shield against his poisoned arroAVs, but with the 
 other hand they should feed the poor captive, and 
 nourish him into strength to fight himself. They heard 
 and believed me. But I came aAvay entreating the 
 Lord to make me a man in the breach against these 
 sons of Behai, and that I was willing to die if He would 
 spare His inheritance from these fiery flying serpents of 
 infidel notions, Avhich have fallen in upon this central 
 congregation of Israel. Tell your father to be on his 
 post, and to tell his brethren to look to their arms, 
 tliey knoAV not how insecure their citadel is. Henry 
 Drummond was in the chair ; he is in all chairs — I 
 fear for him. His words are more witty than spiritual ; 
 
344 
 
 A SUBTLE CANTAB. 
 
 ids manner is spirituel^ not grave Then 
 
 I came home, and immediately there gathered a plea- 
 sant congregation .... to whom, with my family, I 
 addressed the word of exhortation, and opened the 
 103rd Psalm, that psalm of psalms, and our passage 
 in order was Luke xiv. verse 25. How appropriate 
 to these communicants, but oh, Isabella, how sublime ! 
 None but God durst have uttered such an abrupt apo- 
 strophe to a multitude of men ; and no multitude of men 
 would have borne it but from a manifest God. But how 
 contemptible a comparison of unresolved professors — 
 savourless salt, neither good for the field of the Church 
 nor for the dunghill of the world ! I pray you to 
 consider this passage — it was more fertile to my soul 
 than I have now strength to tell. The ladies went their 
 ways, and left the two young men, with whom having 
 conversed in the study I found to be of a righteous 
 
 spirit, and pressing into the kingdom These 
 
 things rejoice me. The Lord enriches me with comfort. 
 Blessed be His name ! Blessed be His holy name ! 
 His thrice holy name be blessed for ever and ever ! 
 
 “And now, dear, I am wearied, having fulfilled many 
 gracious offices, and having had a breathing of the 
 Spirit on them all, and on this not less than the others, 
 my worthy wife. That thou and ours, and the house 
 where thou dwellest, may be blessed of our God for 
 ever and ever ! 
 
 “ Tuesday^ 22nd . — That subtle Cantab, with his logic, 
 has almost robbed my Isabella of her tribute of love, 
 he has so exhausted me. In the morning we were 
 alone, and I arose much refreslied with sleep, and, after 
 worship and breakfast, addressed myself to the work 
 
A CIRCLE OF KINSFOLK. 
 
 345 
 
 of meditating tlie 5tli chapter of the Hebrews in the 
 original, which is so full of tender humanity. To this 
 I added, in the garden, some reading on the high 
 priest’s office, in Godwin’s ‘ Moses and Aaron.’ And 
 as I walked I had much elevation of soul to the 
 heavenly thrones, with certain cogitations of God’s 
 neighbourhood to very holy men, so that to me it 
 seemed not possible to say whether He might not still 
 work manifest wonders by their hand. Not to convince 
 them with visible demonstrations, for that is the 
 Cathohc solicitation for an idol ; but to work spiritual 
 wonders by their means. Thereafter I set myself to 
 rough-hew my discourse, of which more when it takes 
 shape ; taking among hands the ‘ Eoman History,’ not 
 without prayer that the Lord would open to me the 
 mystery of his Providence, when, for the first time, 
 (oh, unbelief !) it occurred to me that I was reading the 
 rise of the fourth great monarchy into whose hands 
 God had given the earth. The works of the Lord are 
 wonderful — sought out are they of all those who take 
 pleasure therein ; so wonderful was the rise of Macedon 
 
 and of Persia, for Babylon I have forgot 
 
 Another letter from Henry Paul, commending a 
 
 Miss M to me as one of the people of God who 
 
 wished to join our fold. She is welcome in the Lord’s 
 name. I could not see her, being occupied with a httle 
 
 circle of kinsfolk, who were Peter F ’s wife, and 
 
 daughter, and mother. . . . They are on their way to 
 join him at Hover : (how full of painful interest that 
 place is now become ! My Edward ! oh, my Edward !) 
 The mother wishes to get a housekeeper’s situation, for 
 which she is qualified, and desires your countenance ; 
 
346 PLEASURES OF THE TABLE — PEA-SOUP AND POTATOES. 
 
 SO, while you are at Dumfries and Annan, I pray you to 
 satisfy yourself of her character and ability, that we 
 may help her, if we can. I commended them to the 
 Lord after they had eaten bread with me. Thereafter 
 I addressed myself to reading, being broke up for the 
 day by this welcome interruption, until towards three, 
 
 when I bore James P on his way to the inn, and 
 
 returned to my own solitary meal ; and after it I took 
 myself much to task for want of temperance, which, 
 after all, I have not yet attained to. It is a saying of 
 one of the Fathers, ‘ In a fuU belly all the devils dance,’ 
 and Luther used to say, ‘ he loved music after dinner, 
 because it kept the devils out.’ But I believe the truth 
 is, that temperance wrought by the Spirit is the only 
 defence, of which I felt this day the lack, although my 
 dinner was wholly of pea-soup and potatoes ; but I took 
 too much, and was ashamed of the evil thoughts which 
 have dared to show face in the temple of the Holy Ghost. 
 
 “I prayed the Lord to strengthen me in all time 
 coming for His greater glory, and proceeded, about 
 five, on my way to Mr. Barclay’s, Fleet Market, taking 
 by the way a brother of Hall’s, whose house joins 
 by the back of the church. Oh, Isabella, how frail 
 we are ! There was a sweet boy of nine years, who 
 had never ailed anything in his fife, brought in one 
 day to the jaws of death, if he be not already con- 
 sumed of it, by the croup ; and a poor family, and, I 
 fear, an ignorant one, with whom, having left my 
 prayers and help, I proceeded on my way. The boy 
 had said, ‘ Mother, do not fret ; I must die some time, 
 and I will go to heaven.’ So would patient Edward 
 have said, if he could have spoken anything. Love not 
 
THE SPIRIT OF A FORMER AGE. 
 
 347 
 
 Margaret after the flesh, but after the spirit, my dearest 
 wife. I went with fear and trembling to Mr. Barclay’s, 
 but with self-rebuke that I had not made it a day of 
 prayer and humiliation for their sakes. I had besought 
 the Lord, but I did not feel that He was found of me ; 
 and I had meditated, by the way, this one thought, 
 kindred to what I set forth in my last letter, ‘ That 
 when the Holy Ghost departs from any set of opinions, 
 or form of character, they wither like a sapless tree.’ 
 Witness the preaching of Scotland, the voice of the 
 Spirit of a former age ; witness the high-flying Whigs 
 of the Assembly, the armour-bearers of the covenanting 
 Whigs of the Claim of Eights ; witness the radical and 
 political dissenters of England, the mocking-birds of the 
 Nonconformists ; witness the High Churchmen of 
 England, who pretend to maintain what Eidley, and 
 Latimer, and Hooper embodied. Aye, there is the 
 figure ; the doctrine is the vainest when the Spirit is 
 gone. Meditate, Isabella, this deep mystery of the 
 spirit in man quickened by the Holy Spmt. I had 
 one meditation at home, ‘ That immortal souls, not 
 written compositions, nor printed books, were the 
 jjrimum mobile of a minister’s activity.’ I found father, 
 
 and mother, and two sisters, and from the first Mr. B 
 
 opened his doubts and difficulties to me, by telling me 
 that he hoped to be able to enter better into my 
 new subject than into my former, but declaring 
 that he had seen new views of his sinfulness, and 
 brought to look to Chri&t alone for salvation, whom 
 he looked upon as his Mediator, Intercessor, and Ee- 
 deemer, but could not see as equal with God, though 
 he was God’s representative. I opened the great 
 
348 
 
 THE LOST SHEEP. 
 
 mystery as I could, telling him at the same time it was 
 only to be opened by the Holy Spirit, upon whose 
 offices I enlarged, and went over a large field of 
 demonstration with much satisfaction to them all, and 
 deep emotion with the two daughters, whom I think 
 the Lord our God is calling. Then we came to speak 
 of dear David’s death, by my recital of which they were 
 very much moved, as also by my unfolding the blessed 
 fruits of our Edward’s removal. He has been much 
 upon my mind this day. Dearest, I think light is 
 breaking upon Mr. Barclay’s mind. Pray for him ; he 
 is to mark his difficulties, which I am to do my 
 endeavour to clear up. When I returned, here waited 
 
 Miss W and a Mr. M‘Mcol, from Oban, who, with 
 
 his wife, desired the ordinance Our chapter 
 
 was the first seven verses of the fourteenth of Luke. 
 What a touching appeal that parable of the sheep was 
 for the poor publican to the Pharisees ; how deh- 
 cately reproved they were, themselves being allowed to 
 be as men who needed no repentance compared with 
 these sinners ! Grant that ye are the unoffending, un- 
 strayed children of the house ; but here is one that has 
 shipwrecked. May I not go and seek liim as ye would 
 a strayed sheep, and, if he return, will not the family 
 forget their every-day blessedness in a tumult of joy.^ 
 The Lord strengthened me in prayer, and now He 
 hath strengthened me in this writing beyond my expec- 
 tations. Kiss our beloved child for her father’s sake. 
 I heard of you both by those airy tongues tliat 
 
 syllable men’s names Fear the Lord, my wife, 
 
 always ; fear the Lord ! 
 
 “ Wednesday^ — This has been to me a day 
 
THE INFLUENCE OF THE HOLY SPIEIT. 
 
 349 
 
 of temptation from dulness and deadness in tlie 
 divine life. I know not whence arising, if it be not 
 from want of more patient communion with God in 
 secret, and more frequent meditation of His holy Word. 
 Oh, Isabella, there is no abiding in the truth but by 
 the indwelhng of the Holy Spirit. It is not reasoning, 
 or knowledge, or admonition, or council, or watchfid- 
 ness, or any other form of spiritual carefulness and 
 ability, but His own presence — His own Spirit, quick 
 and lively, which maketh us tender, ready, discerning, 
 in the ways of righteousness and iniquity. The Spirit 
 searcheth all things, yea, the deep things of God. 
 Dearest, mistrust reasonings, mistrust examples, mis- 
 trust prudential views, mistrust motives, and seek for 
 an abiding, a constant spirit of hohness, which shall 
 breathe of God, and feel of God, and watch in God, and 
 care in God, and in all things reveal God to be with us 
 and in us. A child possessed of the Holy Spirit is wiser to 
 know righteousness from iniquity than the most refined 
 casuist or the most enlightened divine. It' is truly a 
 spiritual administration, the present administration of 
 our souls, and we see but as through a glass, but after- 
 wards face to face. When Christ, who is our life, shall 
 appear, we shall know as we are known. Oh, seek a pre- 
 sence, an ever-abiding presence of the Holy One, for 
 yourself and your husband ! Yet, though heavy in soul, 
 I cried to the Lord very often, and He has heard my 
 prayer. I know that we shall be tried with various 
 tribulations, but we shall not be prevailed against. 
 While I was occupied constructing my morning dis- 
 course, Mr. H came in, and we had a season of 
 
 brotherly communion. His sisters go forward, all the 
 
350 NEW TESTAMENT HISTOEY OF THE CHUKCH. 
 
 three, with one consent, and bear a loving heart to us 
 and to all the people of God. They wished books to 
 peruse, and I recommended to them Edwards’ History 
 of Redemption^ to read along with the Old Testament 
 history of the Church, and to prepare them for reading 
 the New Testament history of the Church. Oh, that 
 this was drawn up by one possessed of the Spirit of 
 God, and not the spirit of history, who, in a short 
 space and with a round pen, would draw it out after 
 the maimer of the books of Samuel and the Chronicles, 
 adjoining to it specimens of the most pious writings of 
 the Fathers, which might answer to the history, as the 
 prophets answer to the Old Testament history. .... 
 I also opened my lecture, which is to treat of the duty 
 of the Church to support its ministers, for I perceive 
 that, from want of being discoursed of, these great 
 rudimental ideas of the Church have changed into con- 
 venient and expedient arrangements of human wisdom. 
 
 “ I dined alone, and after dinner kept on with the 
 History of Eome, whose age of tumults and domestic 
 seditions I have arrived at, the condition of people, with 
 plebeian institutions, who have lost the bond of religion, 
 and the domestic and moral obhgations resting on it. 
 That tradition is remarkable of Julius Csesar’s having 
 the vision of a man of great stature and remarkable 
 appearance inviting him to cross the Eubicon, which 
 paved the way to the empire, in which form it be- 
 comes a prophetic object, and has a prophetic character. 
 I have resolved, nevertheless, to throw that part of my 
 book * which derived its materials from the book of 
 
 * Babylon and Infidelity Foredoomed. 
 
THE SONS OF GOD AND THE DAUGHTERS OF MEN. 351 
 
 Esdras, into a note, lest I should give encouragement 
 to the prudential advocates of the Apocrypha. It is 
 
 there that Julius Cgesar is a prophetic character 
 
 When we came to Mrs. David’s, I had such a desire to 
 deliver Brightwell from political leaning in the Slavery 
 Abolition question, for I find they are to a man gone into 
 the idea that Christianity must have the effect of mak- 
 ing the slaves disquiet ; that is, they lean so much to 
 the political question, that even themselves say, until they 
 are emancipated, it is vain that you seek to Christianize 
 them. This is turning round with a vengeance ; but it 
 is so everywhere. Oh, my Isabella, how the sons of God 
 are intermarrying with the daughters of men ! Every- 
 where some evil spirit is seeking alliance with the Holy 
 Spirit. This is to me an evidence that the deluge is at 
 hand. Every day I feel more and more alone, and 
 more and more rooted and grounded in the truth. 
 The Lord make me faithful, though it were by the hating 
 of father, and mother, and brother, and my own life. 
 William Hamilton sees this matter as I do, and I found 
 
 Dr. M saw the question of hberty as I do : these are 
 
 the only two concurrences I have had in these broad and 
 general questions since I came to visit you. But I 
 thank God, in other matters of a private and personal 
 kind, I am at one with all the children of God. Oh, out 
 of what a pit the Lord hath brought me ! How I 
 abhor my former self and all my former notions ! I was 
 an idolater of the understanding and its clear con- 
 ceptions ; of the spirit, the paralysed, dull, and benighted 
 spirit, with its mysterious dawnings of infinite and 
 everlasting truth, I was no better than a blasphemer. 
 Now the Lord give me grace to bear with those who are 
 
352 
 
 WISDOM. 
 
 what I lately was. This discourse wore me out, and, 
 when I came to church, I was more fit for a couch and 
 silence • but I sought strength, and, though I could not 
 reach the subject in all its extent — ‘ the prince of this 
 world cometh, and hath nothing in me ’ — I trust I was 
 able somewhat to put the people on their guard against 
 Satan’s temptations, and establish the Church in Christ, 
 
 their everlasting strength 
 
 ‘‘ Thursday, 2^th In this record, which I make 
 
 daily for the comfort and edification of my dear wife, 
 I desire God to be my witness and constant guide, lest 
 I should at any time consult for the gratification of my 
 own vanity, or warp truth from the great end of His 
 glory, and the comfort of His saint. And may He not 
 sufier the method which I pursue, of personal narrative, 
 to betray me into any egotism or self-preference to the 
 prejudice of holy truth ! In the morning, our dear 
 
 friend B. M came to breakfast, bringing (diligent 
 
 man!) the sheets of the third volume of Bacon with him. 
 He preferred to be with us during worship, and was 
 very much affected, as I judge, by our simple service. 
 We read that sublime evaluation of wisdom in the Book 
 of Job (xxviii.), which was so appropriate to our dear 
 friend’s mind, though it came in course, and I was so 
 stupid and dull, or overawed by his presence, as not 
 to be able personally to apply it. Dearest Isabella, 
 what a passage of Holy Writ that is I What a climax 
 of subhmity, ranging through the profound mysteries 
 of the bowels of the earth, and the knowledge of man 
 and all his most valuable possessions, and through the 
 earth and the hoary deep, and through death and the 
 grave, till at length he finds it in the simpficity of 
 
FAREWELL COUNSELS. 
 
 353 
 
 spiritual truth : — ‘ The fear of the Lord is the beginning 
 of wisdom, and to depart from evil, that is understand- 
 ing.’ It is equalled by the nineteenth chapter, which is 
 in the pathetic what the other is in the sublime ; ex- 
 pressing the uttermost dejection and desolation, and 
 from the depths of it all piercing through gloomy time, 
 and hoary ruin and waste, to the resurrection, when he 
 should meet the Eedeemer from all these troubles, and 
 stand before Him in immortal being. My dear com- 
 panion of thouglit, meditate these two chapters of in- 
 spiration ; they will repay you well. 
 
 The four German missionaries came in during prayer, 
 and I think I had a spirit of supplication granted to me 
 in interceding for their sakes. We had sweet discourse 
 during breakfast. I think our dear friend is melting into 
 sweeter moods, and overcoming himself not a httle. I 
 trust, by the grace of God, to see him a disciple of the 
 Lord, humble and meek. His manner to me is utterly 
 changed, permitting me to follow my own manner of 
 discourse in things spiritual and divine. When break- 
 fast was finished, I left him and James together, and 
 brought the missionaries into the hbrary, for they came 
 to take leave. Then I opened to them the condition 
 of the world, as presented to us in the prophecy, and 
 the hopes to which they had to look forward ; of the 
 falling ‘ of the cities of the nations,’ that is, the super- 
 stitions of the world. Then, as their constant en- 
 couragement, I read them the seventeenth chapter of 
 John : their Lord’s intercession for their sakes, which 
 now He hath power also to accomplish, if they have 
 faith in him. Oh, Isabella, it seemed to me a rich re- 
 ward of all their labours, that they would be brought 
 
 A A 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
354 
 
 A FUNEEAL. 
 
 to a nearer acquaintance with these most precious 
 apostohc consolations, the 14th, 15th, 16th, and 17th 
 chapters of John. Then I recounted to them my own 
 missionary success in London, the hindrances of Satan, 
 the enmities of my countrymen and their evil reports, 
 the enemies in this place, and whatever else was raised 
 up against me, in order to acquaint them with the 
 wonderful works of God on my behalf, unworthy sinner, 
 headstrong rebel, as 1 am. Then we joined in prayer, 
 and 1 besought the Lord to be for home and friends, 
 and wisdom and strength to these defenceless sheep, 
 which were about to go forth among wolves. I made 
 them write their names and nativities in my book, chiefly 
 for your eye, seeing you are not permitted to see them 
 before they go. 1 do again pray the Lord to be their 
 guide and their prosperity. 
 
 By this time the mourning coach had arrived, to 
 carry me to the funeral of my beloved son in the 
 Gospel, which took up, by Clerkenwell church, a 
 
 Mr. T 5 who, with his wife, are hearers in my 
 
 church ; with whom also I returned, and was enabled 
 to speak clearly to his soul, without any shame- 
 facedness, and, I trust, with pastoral love and fidehty. 
 The truth drew tears from his eyes ; whether the 
 Lord may bless it to his spirit. He who is wise will 
 witness. When we arrived, there were several assem- 
 bled of her trusty friends and nearest kindred, and 
 
 among others, Mr. A , the counsellor. He began 
 
 to remind me, in a voice little apt to mourning, or 
 mindful of the sacredness of the house of mourning, 
 that the last time we had met was at the house of 
 feasting, dining with the lords at the Old Bailey ; upon 
 
THE JOY OF GEIEF. 
 
 355 
 
 which I felt it my duty, in order to overawe worldly 
 intrusions, to take up that word and say that my friend 
 had reminded me of our last meeting at the house of 
 feasting, and that as it would have been thought 
 very indecorous then to have obtruded the face or 
 feeling of sorrow, so this house of sorrow and death 
 had also its rights, which did not bear with the con- 
 versation of hvely (minds) and worldliness ; but with 
 humble moods and downcast spirits, and mourning before 
 the Lord, and other afflictive conditions of the soul ; 
 and when it was a Christian who was taken, and from 
 Christians that he was taken, there should shine upon 
 the troubled waters a gleam of light, and a hope of 
 glory, and thankfulness, and joy : the joy of grief that 
 he had escaped the troublous and chastening deep. 
 
 This led to discourse that was profitable Poor 
 
 William wept very sore, but always sorest when I 
 mingled refigious warnings to him and counsels ; then 
 he turned his face and his eyes to me, as we walked 
 together in the churchyard, and wept vdthout restraint, 
 as if he had said. Oh, forsake me not, forsake me not ! 
 And I will not forsake thee, my orphan boy, God not 
 forsaking me. It drizzled and rained; several of the 
 congregation were waiting there, to walk behind the 
 company ; and when he was lowered into the grave, I 
 stood forth to declare the conquest of death and the 
 grace of God, in the faith of our brother, and exhorted 
 the people to be of a good and constant faith, after 
 which we prayed and departed to our homes and occu- 
 pations, I trust not without motions of the Holy Spirit 
 to a better life. Then applying myself to study what 
 short interval was left me, I proceeded to Bedford 
 
 A A 2 
 
356 “ MANAGEMENT.” 
 
 Square On my way, I called at Mr. H ’s, 
 
 and found tlie old man growing worse ; but be would 
 not see me. That is very remarkable. I gather that 
 he sees his partner. Dare he not bear my probe ? It 
 is wont to be very gentle ; but she is a saint growing 
 fast 
 
 Friday^ 2hth November . — This morning I arose 
 rather worn and weary I have all day expe- 
 
 rienced that trial which many have continually, of a 
 troublous body, but am better now at night. This 
 condition of my body and mind was not reheved by 
 many interruptions, while I had upon me the weight of 
 two discourses. First, Mr. Hamilton bringing me the 
 
 tidings of Mr. H ’s illness ; then Mr. Whyte, who 
 
 called by appointment ; then Mr. Dinwiddie posting 
 
 with the same account of Mr. H . I would they 
 
 would help me, not beat me up as if I were slothful, 
 when my poor soul is like to languish with too much 
 exertion. But formality, formahty, thou art man’s 
 scourge ! and thou, spirit of truth and duty, thou art 
 man’s comforter I My elders have a nice idea of things 
 being rightly managed, I wish they had the spirit of 
 it ; and I think that also is growing. Then came Miss 
 
 D with the same tidings ; and though I was in the 
 
 midst of weakness with such a load on my mind, I went 
 my ways with my papers in my pocket, having to meet 
 
 Mr. W at Mr. Dinwiddie’s at dinner. I found Mr. 
 
 H shut himself up from my visits, although he saw 
 
 both his medical man and his mercantile partner. I 
 pray the Lord to be his Shepherd and comfort in my 
 stead ; and we prayed in the adjoining room, and after- 
 wards I came down-stairs to study, being purposed to 
 
DETERIORATION. 
 
 357 
 
 wait as long as I could. Towards four Mrs. H came 
 
 to me, and we had much discourse with one another. 
 She told me of the saintly character of her father, and 
 
 of Mr. H ’s grandfather Wliy are there no 
 
 such saints in Scotland now ? . Because their wine is 
 mingled with water — their food is debased. It will 
 nourish men no longer, but dwarflings. Oh, Scotland ! 
 oh, Scotland! how I groan over thee, thou, and thy child- 
 ren, and thy poverty-stricken church ! Thy Humes are 
 thy Knoxes, thy Thomsons are thy Melvilles, thy public 
 dinners are thy sacraments, and the speeches which 
 attend them are the ministrations of their idol. And 
 the misfortune, dearest, is that the scale is falling every- 
 where in proportion, ministers and people, cities and 
 lonely places ; so that it is like going into the Shetland 
 Islands, where, though you have the same plants, they 
 are all dwarfed, and the very animals dwarfed, and the 
 men also. So valuable is pure, unadulterated doctrine ; 
 so valuable is pure faithful preaching ; so valuable is 
 simple faith, and a single eye to the glory of God. 
 How weU the state of our Church, nay, of ^the Christian 
 Church in general, is described by the account of the 
 Laodicean Church. It almost tempts me to think more 
 of the idea that these seven Churches are emblems 
 of the seven ages of the Christian Church, to the last 
 of which men are now arrived. My dear, if this is to 
 be reformed, if it is to be withstood, and I have faith 
 to undertake it, I think I must stand alone, for I can 
 get no sympathy amongst my brethren. Hr. Gordon 
 even has not had this revealed to him ; and for Hr. 
 Chalmers, he is immersed in civil pohty and political 
 economy, a kind of purse-keeper to the Church Apos- 
 
358 
 
 THE NEW CHUKCH. 
 
 tolic. And for Andrew Thomson, he is a gladiator of 
 the intellect, his weapons being never spiritual, but in- 
 tellectual merely, and these of an inferior order, — no- 
 thing equal to those that are in the field against him. Of 
 these things I am calmly convinced ; for these things I 
 am truly troubled ; and to be helpful to the removal of 
 these things, I pray God for strength continually. You 
 must be a helpmeet for me in this matter as in other mat- 
 ters, and, I pray you, for that as well as for your own 
 blessedness, seek the purity of the faith, the sincere milk 
 of the Word, that you may grow thereby. So I counselled 
 
 dear Mrs. H , when she looked out from those 
 
 eyes so full of sorrow, so full of doubt, so full of sup- 
 phcation, and gave me her cold hand again and again, 
 and often asking that I would remember them in my 
 prayer. 
 
 “I walked melancholy enough along Burton Cres- 
 cent, to see the church for the second time, which is 
 now up to the level of the first windows, indeed 
 above it, and hi front the yellow stones are showing 
 themselves above the ground, and when it is finished I 
 doubt not it will be a seemly building. But may the 
 Lord fill it with the glory of His own spiritual presence, 
 and endow me with gifts to watch over the thousands 
 who are to assemble therein ! or raise up some other 
 more worthy, and take me to His rest. Ah ! how for- 
 mality hath worn out the excellent faculties of the 
 females at Burton Crescent, and the continual longing 
 for that state and rank whence they have fallen ! Oh, 
 how thou dost skilfully take thy game, thou spirit of 
 delusion ! Oh Lord, deliver Thou their feet out of the 
 net, I do humbly pray Thee ; and give me grace to be 
 
MINISTERIAL LIBERTY. 
 
 359 
 
 found faithful in this city of the dead. After dinner I 
 opened my mouth to them all — Mr. Woodrow, Hamil- 
 ton, Virtue, Aitchison — expounding to them the doctrine 
 of the Holy Spirit, and the withered trunk of form, 
 ceremony, and mere doctrine which remained when He 
 was gone ; illustrating it by all things in which there was 
 once a spirit of holiness, and which, during the last cen- 
 tury, the most unspiritual, I think, we ever have had, 
 faded away out of every thing ; whereby we are become 
 these meagre skeletons of saints and ministers which I 
 lamented over. They had nothing to say in reply, and, 
 if I might judge, were a good deal impressed with what 
 I had testified. The Lord give it fruit ! Mr. Woodrow 
 and I came away at eight o’clock, and I bore him com- 
 pany through Eussell Square. I think he is likely to be 
 elected'^, but it is by no means certain yet. The elders 
 have been telling him that he must be more plain, as 
 they are plain people ; that is, he must not leave their 
 beaten track ; and that he must be shorter ; that is, 
 not interrupt their family arrangements of dinner, &c. ; 
 and that he must be more explicit in discourse, in order to 
 gratify their desire of mere fragments of knowledge, in- 
 stead of receiving the living continuity of spirit and soul 
 which a discourse ought to be. Oh, that cutting of truth 
 into bits is like dividing the body into fragments ! death, 
 death unto it ! The truth should breathe continuous ; 
 the spirit of truth should inspire every member of a 
 discourse, instead of our having it in those cold, lifeless 
 limbs of abstract intellectual proportions. How your 
 father would laugh at this ! Nevertheless, tell him it is 
 truth, though ill-expressed in my present feebleness of 
 
 * As minister of one of the Scotch churches in London. 
 
360 
 
 DREAMS OF EDWARD. 
 
 conception. I told Woodrow if he yielded a scruple 
 of his ministerial hberty I would call him brother no 
 more, but impeach him of treason to the Great Prophet. 
 Nevertheless, I encouraged him to be of good cheer, 
 for he was a httle cast down. I came home by Mr. 
 
 H ’s, and found him as I had left him ; but saw 
 
 her not — only comforted poor Agnes, whom I met 
 
 in the passage. Miss W came to prayers, and I 
 
 trust the Lord was with us. The greater part of the 
 afternoon I devoted to your ear, Tibby, which is to 
 me more sweet audience than the ear of princes or 
 of learned men. Fare thee well ! 
 
 “ Saturday^ 2^th November . — Yesterday and yester- 
 night, dearest wife, I had many thoughts of our departed 
 son, our first-born, and I was able to use David’s words 
 in the Psalm of that night, ‘ Thy judgments, 0 Lord, 
 are just, and in righteousness hast thou afflicted me.’ 
 My dreams brought you and little Margaret before me, 
 and I said. Dear Isabella, it is little Edward ; and was 
 not undeceived till I saw her smaU black eyes instead 
 of his fuIL-orbed blue, whose loving kindness was so 
 dear to me even in death. But my dreams withal 
 were very pleasant, and not afflicted with evil sugges- 
 tions. This morning I have arisen fresh and lively, 
 and have already nearly finished my discourses ; and 
 now, at three o’clock, am hastening to cover this sheet 
 with sweet thoughts for your dear mind, that you may 
 
 receive it before leaving Fife. Mr. H is no more 
 
 in this world. He died about eleven o’clock, and I 
 have now a letter from dear Agnes. May the Lord 
 comfort the widow and the fatherless ! I think I shall 
 have time, after finishing this, to hasten down, though 
 
THE SPIRIT OF PRAYER. 
 
 361 
 
 it were but for a few minutes. Oh, Isabella! put 
 nothing off, my dearest, put nothing off ; have nothing 
 to do, have all besought, have all believed, have aU 
 done, and live quietly unto eternity ! Say so to your 
 dear father and mother, and all the family. We know 
 not what a day may bring forth. If you be languid, 
 then cry for help ; if you be under bondage, cry for 
 deliverance ; and abide believing, abide beheving ; 
 opening your heart to the admonitions of the Holy 
 One — your ear to admonitions of every faithful one. 
 Turn aside from hes, from flattery, from vanity and folly. 
 Be earnest, be grave — always ready. There will be no 
 folly, nor laughter, nor bedimming of truth with false 
 appearances, nor masquerading, in eternity. But I 
 return. After prayer, in which I seek the spirit of 
 prayer above all requests, for my soul wanders ; there 
 is an under-current of feeling, and even of thinking. 
 It is very amazing we can speak to God so, and not to 
 any mortal. I am oft to seek for an answer to man, 
 ' when I am thinking of another matter ; but I dare 
 speak to God, though I am thinking of another matter. 
 Oh I what is this, my dear Isabella ? It is very lamen- 
 table, and I lament it very much. The Lord doth not 
 hear us because we ask amiss. How, my dear wife, 
 make it for yourself and myself a constant prayer that 
 we may have the spirit of prayer and supplication 
 bestowed upon us ; rather pause to recover the soul, 
 than hurry on in a stream of words. I take it this 
 must be still more felt by those who use forms, and 
 that this is one of the chief advantages of the disuse 
 of forms : but no means will charm forth the evil 
 heart of unbelief. He only who hath all power in 
 
362 “MY DUMFRIESSHIRE.” 
 
 heaven and earth is able — our Saviour and our Lord. 
 Now I had almost forgotten that this is the day before 
 your communion. It is stormy here, may it be quiet 
 with you ; and to the saints may it be a day of much 
 refreshment ! . . . . 
 
 “ Now, with respect to your journey, if you set out on 
 Thursday you must not go farther than Dumfries that 
 week ; and then open your mind to Margaret and 
 James Fergusson concerning the things of the Spirit. 
 Be not filled with apprehensions about baby. The 
 Lord will prove your shield and hers. There is nothing 
 will interest you till you come to the edge of my Dum- 
 friesshire After you go through Thornhill you 
 
 pass the Campbell Water Then, as you come to 
 
 the Shepherd’s bar, you are upon Allan Cunningham’s 
 calf-ground, and in the midst of a scene worthy of the 
 
 Trosachs Within four miles of Dumfries you 
 
 pass through a village. That village my uncle Bryce 
 founded for the people at the time of the French Ee- 
 volution, when he wrote a book on Peace^ seeing well 
 that the spirit of anarchy was out ; and a half-mile further 
 on you wiU see Holywood Manse, a bow-shot from the 
 road, and the church, where my uncle and aunt lie side 
 
 by side Now, for the rest, you will find a letter 
 
 waiting you at Dumfries The Lord guard you 
 
 on your journey, and temper the blast to the httle 
 
 darling It is now past four, and I hasten to 
 
 salute Mrs. H , vddow, with the blessing of her 
 
 husband, and the children, orphans, with the blessing of 
 their father. Be at peace, full of faith and blessedness ! 
 
 Saturday November , — After putting your letter 
 in the post-office, and still without any uplifting of the 
 
PAEALYTIC IN SOUL. 
 
 363 
 
 soul tliat it might be safely conveyed to you, and 
 arrive in good season (so doth custom eat out piety), 
 
 I went directly to the H ’s; Mrs. H , the most 
 
 composed, being manifestly full of faith, and by faith 
 supported ; and I felt moved with much fellow-feehng. 
 6he spoke of his kindness to all — of his charity to the 
 poor — of his constant cheerfulness in a most perplexing 
 and tried life — of his faith in Christ, though it had little 
 outward appearance, — of all which I was well pleased 
 to hear. We then went upstairs, and, having assem- 
 bled the family, I sought to apply to them the 130th 
 Psalm and the 4th and 5th of 1st Thessalonians : 
 showing them that the only hope was in Christ Jesus 
 either for themselves or the departed. Then 1 proceeded 
 
 to Mr. W , and received Mr. Bell’s instructions for 
 
 you. The place is Bossal, near York. . . . You must 
 go to the George Inn, York, which is the posting- 
 house, and take a post-chaise to the house, where you 
 are expected with much delight ; and may it be de- 
 lightful to us all. Mrs. W is better. We had very 
 
 sweet discourse, in which I was enabled to maintain 
 faithfully the truth, — I fear, not so much in the love 
 of it as I could desire. And, oh ! I am pressed with 
 the desire of nearer communion to the divine throne ! 
 There is something in my spirit very paralytic there. 
 Oh, that I could pray unto the Lord — even with what 
 affection I write these letters ! I do earnestly pray the 
 Lord to take the veil off my heart, and I believe in 
 good time He will. . . . How I go to seek the Lord in 
 secret for us all. FareWell! 
 
 ‘‘Sunday^ 21th November . — I have reason to bless 
 the Lord, my dear Isabella, for His strengthening and 
 
364 U^^DER-CUREENT OF THOUGHT DURING PRAYER. 
 
 encouraging presence this day, both in the ministry of the 
 Word and of prayer ; which I receive as His wonder- 
 ful patience with my unworthiness, and as a sign that 
 His hand is towards me for good. In the morning 
 prayer I was better able to abstract my soul from under 
 thoughts, and to stand with my people before the Lord.- 
 I have been led to think more concerning that under- 
 current of thought during prayer, and I perceived it to 
 be owing to our infidelity. The living and true God, 
 Avith His acts and attributes, is not present to our 
 spirit ; but our own ideas of Him, and customs of dis- 
 course, which the mind presents while thinking of other 
 things, as it doth in many other cases. . . . Therefore 
 it is the awe of God’s presence — the reality of His pre- 
 sence -^by which the soul is to be cured of this evil — this 
 heinous evil. It is the feehng of this want which has 
 introduced pictures and statues among the Cathohcs, 
 and I take it to be the same which makes the Episco- 
 palian attached to forms. But nothing will do, dear, 
 but His own presence — the presence of His own in- 
 visible Spirit in our hearts, crying unto our Father 
 which is in heaven. Prayer, my dearest, is the com- 
 plaint of the Holy Spirit under His incarnation in our 
 hearts. Our chapter in the morning was the 5th of 
 Hebrews, comprehending Christ’s priesthood. But I 
 find I have not strength for unfolding these high mat- 
 ters. My beloved, fare thee well ! My baby, the bless- 
 ing of the Lord upon thee ! 
 
 “In considering the priestly, office of Christ, be at 
 pains to separate it from the firophetic. . . . My dis- 
 course was on justification by faith alone. . . . And I 
 concluded with exhortations to humihty, and an abiding 
 
MONEY, THE UNIVEESAL FALSEHOOD. 
 
 365 
 
 sense of the Saviour’s righteousness, and of our own 
 wickedness, and of a new principle derived from the 
 former which should be generative of a set of works 
 truly good, truly holy, truly blessed. In the evening I 
 read the sweet and picturesque account of Isaac’s 
 courting, and took occasion to press the fidehty of the 
 servant in all points, and to point out the verisimilitude 
 which the narrative bore with the manners of the ages 
 nearest to those times. I discoursed concerning the 
 duty of the Church to their ministers in respect to 
 support ; yet handling the subject largely and widely, 
 with the view of demonstrating the total disproportion 
 between moral and spiritual services and pecuniary re- 
 wards, — showing them my favourite maxim, that money 
 is the universal falsehood, and the universal corruption, 
 when we use it for discharging obhgations contracted 
 by spiritual or moral services. For example, if you 
 think the wage discharges you of your obligation to 
 Mary, you are deceived out of so much spiritual feehng 
 as should have repaid her, and corrupted into a world- 
 ling ; and so if Mary were to think her obligations 
 discharged by works ; and so of all giving of gifts to 
 express sentiments. They do express the sentiment, 
 but discharge it they can never. This was a very 
 fertile topic of discourse, and full of warning to the 
 worldly people. There were very large congregations 
 to hear, and I trust they were edified. Our service 
 extended to three hours in the morning, and two 
 hours and a half in the evening, and I find I cannot 
 relax. . . . 
 
 “ Monday^ 28^A. — This morning Sottomayor the sol- 
 dier was with us, and James and I, partly of charity, 
 
366 
 
 LESSONS IN SPANISH. 
 
 partly of veneration to the old Spanish character and 
 hterature, have agreed to take lessons in Spanish at 
 seven every morning, which will curtail this letter. 
 So we have provided us in Bibles, with which we are 
 to begin, and afterwards we shall read Don Quixote. 
 
 . . . . Then there came Mr. M to read with me 
 
 the Greek Testament, and we gave ourselves to the 
 6 th chapter, which I will open to you in some other 
 place. I think the Lord, by the help of Father Simon, 
 hath enabled me to understand it. Oh, I thank God 
 
 for the change upon that young man! Even P , 
 
 who is very judicious, and was with him an hour alone, 
 could discern in him no supercihousness nor conceit. 
 He is very docile, and is to come every Monday for an 
 hour or two. I hope to do for him what others have 
 done for me. . . . 
 
 “ Tuesday^ 29^A. — Last night I endured the temptation 
 of many evil thoughts and imaginations, which the 
 good Spirit of God enabled me to overcome, although 
 
 it was a great trouble and vexation to my soul 
 
 Such an 'almighty and infinite work is the sanctifica- 
 tion of the soul I Our Lord hath said, ‘ Satan cometh 
 and findeth nothing in me.’ Alas I how otherwise with 
 us ! The Holy Spirit cometh and findeth nothing in 
 us I . . . What a work is the sanctification of a soul ! 
 It is second only to its redemption ; and to that second 
 only in place and order, not in degree. In the morning, 
 we started at seven o’clock to the Book of Samuel, and 
 made out one chapter with Giuseppe Sottomayor, who 
 commends himself more and more to my esteem as a 
 man of true principle and piety. I think the work of 
 conviction goes on in his mind. He breakfasted and 
 
THE WINGS OF LOVE. 
 
 367 
 
 worshipped with us ; after which I came to my study, 
 and did not rise, except to snatch a portion of dinner, 
 till five o’clock. In that time I did httle else than 
 study a chapter in the Hebrew Bible, and read Poole’s 
 Synopsis upon it, which is written in Latin, with 
 abundant Hebrew and Greek quotations, that occupy 
 me well — insomuch that, if my time will aUow, I pur- 
 pose doing the same daily. For I fell in with a 
 dictionary, which I can consider httle else than a pro- 
 vidential gift, in two handy little quarto volumes, — a 
 Latin dictionary, which renders the word into Hebrew, 
 Greek, French, Itahan, German, Spanish, Dutch ; so 
 that it is to me a continual assistance of the memory, 
 besides affording a perpetual delight in tracing the 
 diversity and analogy of languages, in which I had 
 always great pleasure. . . . During my sohtary study 
 I received two sweet interruptions — one in the shape 
 of a messenger from a far country, coming from one 
 dear to you, but dearer to me, and who’ loves me too 
 well to love herself weU. Now, who is that ? and who 
 is that messenger ? A riddle which I take yt)u to re- 
 solve. ... The messenger was from yourself, in the 
 shape of a letter, laying out your plans of travel, and 
 making merry with my scheme. Now Kant’s Meta- 
 physics was not in my mind, but that better authority, 
 the road-book. For you must know that, setting off on 
 Monday morning, I can be m York, you- at Bossal, to 
 breakfast on Tuesday. ... So that you see there is 
 neither Kantian negation of space and time, nor the 
 wings of love, in the matter ; but simple, prosaic, stage- 
 coach locomotion. . . . Being so far, I went on to Bed- 
 ford Square. . . . But there is no getting a spiritual 
 
368 
 
 PAKABLES. 
 
 discourse maintained : you can but set it fortb in intel- 
 lectual parables, which are nothing so efficient as the 
 parables for the sense which our Lord was accustomed 
 to use. But, dearest, we must either speak in parables 
 to the world, or we must be silent ; or we must present 
 a wry and deceptive form of truth ; or we must cast 
 our pearls before swine. Of which choice the first is to 
 be preferred, and our Lord therefore adopted it. Be- 
 cause a parable is truth veiled, not truth dismembered ; 
 and as the eye of the understanding grows more 
 piercing, the veil is seen through, and the truth stands 
 revealed. Now, parables are infinite ; besides those to 
 the imagination, they are to the intellect in the way of 
 argument, to the heart in the way of tender expression 
 and action, and to the eye in the way of a pure and 
 virtuous carriage. And the whole visible demonstration 
 of Christian life is, as it were, an allegorical way of 
 preaching truth to the eyes of the world ; whether it 
 be wisdom in discourse, or charity in feeling, or hohness 
 in action. But I wander. I returned home about 
 seven, and addressed myself to write my action sermon* ; 
 but found myself too fatigued to conceive or express 
 aught worthy of the subject — ‘ Do this in remembrance 
 of me’ — and I know not whether anything may be 
 yielded to me this night worthy of it. ... I trust our 
 meeting may be blessed to add gifts to us mutually. 
 I am truly happy to anticipate it so much sooner. 
 
 “ You are now among my dear kindred, who I know 
 will be very kind to you, for your own sake and for 
 mine. I owe them all a great debt of love and affec- 
 
 * The name usually given in Scotland to the sermon preached 
 before the communion. 
 
TOKENS OF GOD’S BLESSING. 
 
 369 
 
 tion, whidi I shall never be able to repay. I look to 
 you to drop seasonable words into their ears, especially 
 concerning their salvation and their little ones. For 
 nothing is so fatal to Scotland as lethargy. I trust they 
 are not nominal Christians ; but I would fain have 
 deeper convictions of so important a matter. I pray 
 you not to yield anything to your natural kindness at 
 the expense of your health, and risk of the infant ; but 
 in all things, as before the Lord, to take the steps 
 which you judge the best, looking to His blessing. To 
 this also I charge you by your love and obedience to 
 me. This day is very fine. I hope you are on your 
 journey; and I earnestly pray you may travel as 
 Abraham did, at every resting-place setting up an altar 
 to God in your heart. We remember you night and 
 morning in our prayers ; and I trust that the Lord 
 will graciously hear us. At Annan I have nothing for 
 you to say particularly, but to assure them of my most 
 dutiful love and constant prayers, and to entreat them 
 not to slumber. . . . The Lord bring you in safety to my 
 bosom, and to your home. I know you will care for 
 Mary in everything as one of the family, and bound to 
 us by many acts of faithfulness and love. 
 
 “ Wednesday^ November. — My dear Isabella, I 
 
 am daily loaded with the tokens of the Lord’s goodness, 
 which I regard with the more wonder and gratitude, as 
 I have been this week more than ordinarily tried with 
 inward trials ; and to receive tokens of love from a 
 friend, when we are wavering in our fealty, is also 
 always very full of rebuke. But I have withstood 
 Satan according to my ability, and he hath not been 
 allowed to prevail over me, nor will, I trust, by the 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 B B 
 
370 Irving’s anxiety about his wife’s journey. 
 
 continuance of unfailing prayers So you see, 
 
 my dear, what tokens I have of the Lord’s blessing; 
 there are not fewer than thirty-five who have come 
 seeking to be joined to the Church at this time ; and 
 no other season have I observed the same zeal, and 
 intelhgence, and faith. Oh, that the Lord for their 
 sakes would furnish me with good ! I lament much 
 that so few of the Scotch youths are drawn. I think 
 there is not much above one-third Scotchmen. I trust 
 the Lord will draw near to them. I think they can 
 . hardly fail either to leave the congregation altogether, , 
 / or to join the Church, my preaching has been of late so 
 separating. . . . This letter will reach you at Annan, 
 where, individually and collectively, I pray my dutiful 
 affection and ministerial blessing to be given by you. 
 Farewell ! and may the Lord be your shade to-morrow 
 in your journey southward ! 
 
 “ Thursday^ December. — The beginning of a new 
 month, my dearest, wherein let us stir up om* souls to 
 more hvely faith in these great and precious promises 
 which we inherit from the death of our Lord, wliicli 
 you have so lately, and which we are so soon about to 
 commemorate. I look back upon the last month as 
 one in which I have had various experiences of good 
 and evil — encouragements beyond all former experi- 
 ence, and trials of Satan proportioned thereto 
 
 I have had many revelations, and beckonings, and over- 
 ^ tures to enter into the temple’s inmost place, which I 
 shall yet do, if the Lord permit. If I allowed anxiety 
 to prey upon me, I would now be anxious for you and 
 the child, having seen by the papers that so much snow 
 is fallen in the North. But the Lord, who sendeth His 
 
A YOUNG VISITOE. 
 
 371 
 
 ice as morsels, and giveth the snow like wool, and 
 scattereth the hoarfrost like ashes, will not let it alight 
 upon you without good and gracious ends, for the very 
 hairs of your head are numbered. I have had a good 
 deal of conversation this night with Mr. Hunter, who 
 is returned from the North, concerning the comparative 
 fatigue and comfort of posting and travelling by the 
 mail, and he says for both reasons, but especially for 
 less exposure to the cold, the mail is to be preferred. 
 .... Take wise counsel in the matter. I had a very 
 
 pleasant call this morning from Mr. W , desiring, 
 
 by conversation with me, to express his forgiveness 
 of his friend, and to purge himself of all mahce and 
 
 revenge, before bringing his gift to the altar 
 
 After he was gone, I sought to continue my discourse, 
 and, when I had laid down my pen to enter upon my 
 Hebrew studies, I was interrupted by the call of a 
 young lady, who had stolen to me, having heard me 
 
 preach, and thinking me likely to listen to her 
 
 I thought the struggle between shamefacedness and 
 fear on the one hand, and her desire of counsel on the 
 other, would have wholly overpowered her. I found 
 she had been taught of the Spirit without knowing it, 
 and, when I taught her by the Word, it was sweet to 
 witness the response of her soul pronouncing the 
 Amen, ‘That I know,’ ‘That I feel is true.’ She 
 is one in a family, and the rest have no fellowship 
 with her 
 
 “A proof-sheet occupied me till dinner, and after 
 dinner I read the Eoman History till towards six, 
 when I had to meet my young communicants, to 
 introduce them to the session. There was a goodly 
 
 B B 2 
 
372 A “ BENEDICT.” 
 
 number of them present, to whom I addressed a word 
 of instruction concerning the infinite honour to which 
 they were admitted, and the duties which devolved 
 upon them in their Christian calhng I had re- 
 ceived a letter from Andrew P , desiring that his 
 
 mother might be remembered in our prayers, as one 
 looking for death. This moved me to go and see the 
 afflicted servant of Christ, whom I found brought very 
 low, and not hkely to recover again, her children re- 
 joicing in her joy, and content to part with her to the 
 joy of her Lord. So the arrows of the Lord are flying 
 on all sides of us. This made it past eleven when I 
 got home, and I found Mr. Murray sitting to inform 
 me that he was about to become ‘ a Benedict,’ which 
 means blessed, — which means a husband. I wish 
 them all happiness. And so was I hindered from ful- 
 filling this duty, being overladen with sleep, and worn 
 out with labour 
 
 Friday ^2nd December . — This morning, dearest,! felt, 
 when palled at seven, the effects of yesterday’s labour, 
 and was not able to arise, from headache, which I durst 
 not brave, having such a weight of thought and action 
 before me ; therefore I lay still, endeavouring to sleep 
 it off, and rose not till half-past nine, when, descending 
 quietly, I sought to get to work without interruption, 
 and, thank God, have made out a good day’s work, 
 being well-nigh finished with my action sermon ; and, 
 for the rest, I am very much disposed to depend upon 
 the Spirit to give me utterance. For to-morrow, aU the 
 
 morning I have to be helpful to Mrs. H , and the 
 
 evening I have to preach to the people. After work- 
 ing with my pen, I took an interlude of history, walk- 
 
EVILS OF FORMALITY. 
 
 373 
 
 ing in the garden, when my thoughts are fullest of our 
 darhng. But, indeed, I know not how it is, I think the 
 last two or three days I have been thinking of him too 
 much, and last night I dreamed he was in life, and, 
 though drooping like a flower, giving hope of health 
 again. He was on your knee, and I thouglit I caught 
 the first sign of hope — to seize him and carry him into 
 the fresh air, when it all vanished before me into the 
 sad reahty. Then I addressed myself to my Hebrew 
 studies, at which I continued till I went forth to minister 
 comfort to Mrs. H ’s family, with whom I wor- 
 
 shipped, opening to them that Psalm of divine sorrow 
 (the xlii.) where the Psalmist, in all his sorrows, sees 
 nothing to lament but his chstance and separation from 
 the house of God, and the communion of His people. 
 I came back at half-past eight, having several appoint- 
 ments with those who had not spoken to me in time, 
 yet sought with earnestness to approach the table of the 
 Lord. And noAV, more briefly and less feehngly and 
 spiritually than I would have desired, have I set forth 
 to you the incidents of Thursday, which to my soul 
 hath been a day of consolation. Oh, that the Lord 
 would break these bands of sleep — these heavy eye- 
 lids of drowsiness, my beloved wife, and awake us to 
 the full vision of the truth and possession of the things 
 of faith ! You are now, I trust, by the mercy of God, 
 seated beside my most honoured parents, to whom I 
 present my dutiful affection, praying the Lord to com- 
 pass them with His grace ; and, oh, tell them to press 
 inwards to the temple ; not to rest, but to press onward. 
 Exhort them from me to have no formality. Tell 
 them that, until religion cease to be a burden, it is 
 
374 
 
 BENEDICTION. 
 
 nothing — till prayer cease to be a weariness, it is 
 nothing. However difficult, and however imperfect, the 
 spirit must still rejoice in it, after the inward man. . . 
 If I write much longer, you will not be able to read ; 
 for there is a great combination against me — a weary 
 hand, a heavy eye, a pen worn to the quick, a dull 
 mind, and a late hour ; and a day before me of much 
 occupation. Therefore, farewell to all that are with 
 you, and to all with whom you abide ! 
 
 “ Saturday . — I thought, my dearest, to have finished 
 this before the post, but have been taken up all the 
 morning, till two o’clock, doing the last duties to our 
 beloved friend, Mr. H ; and having to preach to- 
 
 night, I rather choose to take up the only hour that is 
 left me in meditation for so many souls. The Lord bless 
 you, and the house in which you dwell ! I trust in the 
 grace of God to sustain me to-morrow, and to give you 
 a good journey. 
 
 “ The Lord bless my father’s house ! 
 
 “ Your afiectionate husband, 
 
 “Edwakd Irving.” 
 
 “ If you take the mail from Carlisle, you should take it 
 only to Kattrick Bridge, or, perhaps, a stage farther. 
 I think it is but eighteen miles from Kattrick Bridge, 
 and the landlord seemed to me a very pleasant old man. 
 If the time of leaving Carlisle be too soon, you could 
 perhaps go on a stage or two the night before. The 
 Lord direct you in all things ! 
 
 “ Forget not the shoes — I care not how many pairs, 
 only pay for them ; for my mother will always make 
 herself a beggar for her children.” 
 
Irving’s only journal. 
 
 375 
 
 Thus concludes a journal which, perhaps, has no 
 parallel in modern days. A picture so minute, yet so 
 broad — a self-revelation so entire — a witness so wonder- 
 ful of that household love, deepened by mutual suffer- 
 ing and sorrow, which so far transcends in its gravity 
 and soberness the more voluble passions of youth — has 
 never, so far as I am aware, been given to the world. 
 It is not wonderful that over the vicissitudes of more than 
 a quarter of a century, the scattered remnants of the 
 family, once admitted, even in part, to the secret soul 
 of such a man, should remember these letters with a 
 certain tearful exultation, the traces of the departed 
 glory ; nor that the wife, to whom all were addressed, 
 should have cherished them to the last as too sacred 
 for common sight. This is the first and only journal 
 of Irving’s life. On various occasions afterwards, he 
 was separated from his wife for considerable periods — 
 but never again produced anything hke the affecting 
 history, at which he laboured day by day and hour by 
 hour, to cheer the mother of his dead baby, as she lay, 
 weak and sorrowful, in the faintest hour of a woman’s 
 fife, in the sad affectionate shelter of her father’s house. 
 Few men or heroes have been laid in their grave with 
 such a memorial as envelopes the baby name of httle 
 Edward ; and I think few wives will read this record 
 without envying Isabella Irving that hour of her 
 anguish and consolation. 
 
376 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 1826, 1827. 
 
 After the full and detailed personal portrait which 
 Irving gives of himself in these journal-letters, a period of 
 comparative silence follows. This was the silent seed-time 
 of the exciting and exhausting years, full of conflict and 
 struggle, upon the threshold of which he stood. The 
 full flood of life which now carried him along was not 
 more visible in his actual labours than it was in the eager 
 progress of his unresting and ever-active spirit. Whe- 
 ther his mind had ever been content with the sober Pres- 
 byterian ideal of a democratic Church, in which the will 
 of the people had really, if not nominally, a distinct and 
 apparent sway, and in which the priests were subject to 
 the perpetual criticism of a community too much dis- 
 posed to argument and individual opinion to yield much 
 veneration to their legitimate leaders, it is difficult to say ; 
 but the Scotch imagination has always found a way of 
 escaping from those prosaic trammels. That which the 
 outside world has distinguished as rehgious liberty, and 
 recognised as the object of the many struggles in 
 which the Church of Scotland has engaged, has never 
 been so named or considered among the champions of 
 that Church. Their eyes, throughout the long and 
 eventful drama, have been fixed, not upon the freedom 
 
THE HEADSHIP OF CHKIST. 
 
 377 
 
 of individual worship, or the rights of the Christian 
 people, but upon a much loftier, ineffable principle, 
 often converted into an instrument of evil, yet always 
 retaining, to some, the divinest sunshine of ideal perfec- 
 tion. Now-a-days, when martyrdoms are no longer 
 possible, and heretical stakes and blocks are long ago 
 out of fashion, it is more difficult than it once was, to 
 idealise, out of a struggle for mere ecclesiastical autho- 
 rity, that conflict which, in the days of blood and vio- 
 lence, so many humble heroes waged for the headship 
 of Christ. To many a Scotch confessor this doctrine 
 has stood instead of a visible general, animating the 
 absolute peasant-soul to so distinct a conception of 
 Christ’s honour and authority, as the object for which 
 it contended, that the personal ardour of the conflict 
 puzzles the calm observer, who understands as nothing 
 but a dogma this inspiring principle. The events 
 which made the great crisis in the existence of Scot- 
 land a struggle for her faith, drove this lofty, visionary 
 conception into the ideal soul of the nation, where it 
 has ever since existed, and is still appealed to, as the 
 experience of to-day can testify. When, according to 
 the evidence of facts, the Covenanters were fighting 
 against the imposed liturgy and attempted episcopacy 
 of the Charleses, they were, to their own fierce con- 
 sciousness, struggling for the principle that, in the 
 Church, Charles was nothing, and Christ all in all; 
 nor has the sentiment failed in more recent struggles. 
 Irving had received this national creed along with his 
 earhest impressions : he had even received it in the still 
 closer theocratic model well known in ancient Scotland, 
 where God the ruler was everywhere visible, in provi- 
 
373 
 
 A BAPTIZED CIIKISTENDOM, 
 
 dence, judgment, and mercy. But Ms impassioned soul 
 led him to reconstruct upon these subhme elements an- 
 other ideal of a Church than that which has long been 
 supreme in Scotland. Unconsciously his thoughts ele- 
 vated themselves, and grew into fuller development ; 
 unconsciously he assumed in his own person the priestly 
 attitude, and felt himself standing between God and the 
 people. Then the community itself rose under his 
 glowing gaze into a baptized world, — a Christendom 
 separated by the initiatory ordinance of Christiamty, of 
 which Christ was the sole head. The longer he con- 
 templated this world, the more it rose out of the region 
 of doctrine into that of reality. That Lord became no 
 distant Presence, but a Person so intensely realised and 
 visible, that the adoring eye perceived the human 
 pulses throbbing in His veins ; and for awe, and love of 
 that mysterious union, the worshipper could not keep 
 silence. That faith became no system of words, but a 
 divine evidence and substantial proof of the unutterable 
 glories ; that baptism grew out of a symbol and cere- 
 mony into a Thing, — an immortal birth, to which God 
 Himself pledged His word. One can see this wonderful 
 process going on in the transparent, vehement spirit. 
 Everything suffered a change under those shining eyes 
 of genius and passion. Prom impersonal regions of 
 thought they rose into visible revelations of reality. To 
 a mind instinct with this realising principle, the con- 
 ception of a Second Advent nearly approaching was 
 hke the beginning of a new life. The thought of 
 seeing His Lord in the flesh cast a certain ecstasy upon 
 the mind of Irving. It quickened tenfold his already 
 vivid apprehension of spiritual things. The burden of 
 
EXPANSION. 
 
 379 
 
 the prophetic mysteries, so often darkly pondered, so 
 often interpreted in a mistaken sense, seemed to him, in 
 the hght of that expectation, to swell into divine cho- 
 ruses of preparation for the splendid event which, with 
 his own bodily eyes, undimmed by death, he hoped to 
 behold. He had commenced his labours, and the 
 studies necessarily involved in those labours, with a 
 certain expansion of spirit, and poAver of subhmating 
 whatever truth he touched, but no apparent diverg- 
 ence from ordinary behef. But years of close dwelling 
 upon the sacred subjects which it was his calhng to 
 expound, had borne their natural fruit. Hot yet had 
 he diverged; but he had expanded, intensihed, opened 
 out, in an almost unprecedented degree. Special truths, 
 as he came to consider them, glowed forth upon his 
 horizon with fuller and fuller radiance ; hfe and 
 human affections seemed to go with the adventurer into 
 those worlds of believed but not appreciated divinity ; 
 and, as he himself identified one by one those wonder- 
 ful realisations, which were to him as discoveries, with 
 ever a warmer and fuller voice he declared them aloud. 
 
 Such Avas his state of mind in the comparatively 
 silent, and in some respects transition, period to which 
 Ave have noAv reached. His first soitoav did but 
 strengthen the other influences at work upon him, Avhile 
 at the same time his many and continual labours acting 
 upon his health, obliged him to Avithdraw a httle from 
 the din and excitement of his battle-field, and left him 
 fuller scope for his thoughts. In his winter sohtude, 
 while his Avife was absent, he had begun, more from 
 benevolent motives than with any idea of making use 
 of the accomplishment, to study Spanish ; but, before 
 
380 
 
 BEN-EZKA. 
 
 lie had made any great advances in the language, a 
 manner of turning the new gift to the profit of the 
 Church came, by a complication of causes — to his eyes 
 clearly providential — in his way. A Spanish work, 
 entitled “ The Coming of the Messiah in Glory and 
 Majesty,” professedly written by JuanJosafat Ben-Ezra, 
 a Hebrew convert to Christianity, but in reality, ac- 
 cording to the facts afterwards ascertained, the produc- 
 tion of a Jesuit priest, called Lacunza, was brought to 
 him, as he describes in his preface to the translation of 
 that work, by friends who had been specially impressed 
 by his own views on the same subject. He found in it, 
 as he declares, ‘‘ the hand of a master,” and not only so, 
 but “ the chief work of a master’s hand ; ” and feeling 
 assured that his God had sent this “ masterpiece of 
 reasoning ” to him at such a critical time, for the love 
 of His Church, which He hath purchased with His 
 blood,” he resolved “ to weigh well how I might turn 
 the gift to profit.” The result of his pon derings was, 
 that he undertook the translation of the book, conclud- 
 ing, after his fashion, that the Church was as open to 
 receive instruction, wheresoever it came from, as he 
 himself was. Hot very long before, he had stood up 
 against the champions of Catholic emancipation, taking, 
 without a moment’s hesitation, the unpopular side of 
 the question, and declaring with the utmost plainness 
 that, “ though it expose me to odium in every form, I 
 have no hesitation in asserting it to be my belief that 
 when the rulers of this nation shall permit to the wor- 
 shippers of the Beast the same honours, immunities, 
 and trusts which they permit to the worshippers of the 
 true God, that day will be the blackest in the history of 
 
THE SPANISH JESUIT. 
 
 381 
 
 our fate.” But in the face of these uncompromising 
 sentiments, and almost in a breath with the expression 
 of them, he comes, with characteristic candour and 
 openness, to the feet of the Spanish priest, receives his 
 book “ as a voice from the Eoman Catholic Church,” 
 just as he claims for his own preaching to be “ as a voice 
 from the Kirk of Scotland,” and finds it his duty to 
 interpret between the Jesuit preacher and the English 
 world. A better illustration of the native candour and 
 simphcity of his mind could not be. Few Protestant 
 preachers would take upon themselves such an office ; 
 and those who could believe their own views enforced 
 and supported by the concurrence of a Cathohc writer, 
 would be, according to ordinary rules, men of tolerant, 
 not to say latitudinarian, principles, — not rigid upon 
 points of difference. Of a very different kind was the 
 toleration of Irving. It was not toleration at aU, 
 indeed, nor any modern convenience, but simple love 
 for all who loved his Master’s appearing, and unfailing 
 belief in the human utterance which speaks out of the 
 abundance of men’s hearts. The same voice which 
 had just declared its horror at the thought of pohtical 
 equahty for the Cathohcs, and doubtless had been ana- 
 thematised as the voice of a bigot in consequence, 
 declares, immediately after, the determination of the 
 speaker to give no Protestant comment upon the 
 Jesuit’s simple words. “The doctrines of the Eoman 
 Church,” he says, “ which now and then appear, are 
 brought forward with so much simphcity and sincerity 
 of faith, and so little in the spirit of obtrusion or con- 
 troversy, that it seemed to me hke taking an advantage 
 of the honest, well-meaning man to enter the fists 
 
382 
 
 irvijs'g’s consistency. 
 
 against him, unaccontred as he was Oh, no ! I 
 
 had no heart to catch him tripping, or to expose the 
 weakness of so dear a teacher, concerning whom I was 
 continually exclaiming to the companion of my sohtary 
 labours, ‘ I hope yet, in some of my future pilgrimages, 
 to meet this gray-haired saint in the flesh, and receive 
 his blessing, while I tell him how much I love him, and 
 have profited from his instructions.’ ” 
 
 This contrast of sentiment will possibly puzzle 
 some observers. Irving, it is evident, was not careful 
 to preserve his consistency ; but it is difficult to make 
 out how a man who laboured so lovingly over this 
 priest’s book, and presented him, all Jesuit as he was, 
 to the Protestant world, as a teacher to whom he 
 himself looked up, could be much of a bigot, even 
 though he took the most uncompromising and decided 
 position on the pohtical question of Cathohc disabihties. 
 His views on political questions generally seem to have 
 been forming at this time into a more decided shape 
 than they had hitherto possessed. Out of the eclectic 
 personal creed of a professional man, to whom politics 
 were secondary, they had consohdated into something 
 which from the outside looks like High Toryism, in 
 its most superlative and despotic development. His 
 frequent references to the “ Convocation-book,” de- 
 scribed in his letters, and the conclusion he arrives at, 
 that subjects are not justifiable in taking up arms 
 against their lawful governors, seems, at the first glance, 
 a singular princij)le for the descendant and champion 
 of the Covenanters ; but it belongs, as naturally as 
 any other development of doctrine, to the flevation 
 and growth of all his thoughts. To him, Avith whom 
 
A CHRISTIAN NATION. 
 
 383 
 
 the limit of practicability told for nothing, and 
 whose business was with the far more generally 
 forgotten or shghted ideal form of things, the consi- 
 deration of how it would work was out of the 
 question ; enough men there were in the world to 
 consider that ; his work was entirely of another 
 description. To his eyes, full of sublimating light, the 
 secular forms of government stood forth like the 
 spiritual, in all the authority of Divine origin. The 
 nation was a Christian nation, perilling its very 
 existence by the admission into power of any who did 
 not recognise the principle of its being. The powers 
 that be were ordained of God. The purity of the 
 national faith was the safeguard of its life, and the ark 
 of national safety was in danger the moment that 
 unhallowed hands touched or approached it. 
 
 Such was the political creed of the fervid Scotch 
 preacher, when the world was palpitating around him 
 with Cathohc struggles and the early essays of Eeform. 
 Almost all the strength of contemporary genius went 
 with the popular stream. He, all old-world and unpro- 
 gressive, stood against the tide. How circumstances 
 could modify behef, or individual and temporary 
 hardships set aside everlastmg truth, it was not in him 
 to understand, nor did he enter into the less or more 
 practicable degrees of national \drtue. His stand was 
 taken upon the absolute. From this point of view he 
 protested against the abohtion of tests, against the 
 emancipation of Catholics, and, most of all, against the 
 great atheistical principle, as he held it, that power 
 was derived from the people instead of from God. 
 Upon this, as upon the antipodes of those lofty 
 
384 
 
 POLITICAL OPINIONS. 
 
 politico-religious principles which he himself held hke 
 a prophet in a world consciously ruled of God, he 
 looked with horror. Such elevated theories of govern- 
 ment are not always necessary to disgust thoughtful 
 men with the doubtful and unrehable impulses of popu- 
 lar supremacy. But Irving’s views were not founded 
 upon any calculation of results. To put power into 
 the hands of any man who was not ready, and, indeed, 
 eager, to declare himself a follower of Christ, according 
 to the apparent means of Christ’s own appointing, was 
 an act of national sacrilege to him who considered 
 himself bound to obey that power when exercised, as 
 the ordinance of God. Thus a political creed, which 
 time and the hour have made obsolete, as being all 
 impracticable, flashed forth into hfe in the hands of a 
 champion who thought only of right, and never of 
 practicabihty. Whatever may be said of those doc- 
 trines of Divine right and religious government, which 
 by times have been perverted by human ingenuity 
 into the most horrible instruments of cruelty and 
 national degradation, the grand idea of a Christian 
 nation, governed by Christians, on the broad basis of 
 that law wliich is good-will to man, as held by such a 
 mind as that of Irving, must always remain a splendid 
 imagination : no vulgar pohtical behef, although it 
 called forth from the optimist demonstrations of his * 
 own strenuous sentiments, which were swept off, all 
 futile and unavailing, before the inevitable tide. 
 
 Early in the year 1826, the vrork of Ben-Ezra 
 came into Irving’s hands, confirming and strengthen- 
 ing his heart in respect to the new revelation of doc- 
 trine which had akeady illuminated his path. He had 
 
EEST AND KELAXATION. 
 
 385 
 
 begun his Spanish studies only a few months before, 
 with the view of helping his friend, Giuseppe Sotto- 
 mayor ; and it was not until summer that he under- 
 took the translation of the book which had impressed 
 him so deeply. He had, by this period, so exhausted 
 his strength in his ordinary pastoral labours, that his 
 congregation became anxious about his health, and 
 insisted on the necessary rest and relaxation which 
 alone could recruit him. “ About this time,” as he 
 himself says, “ it pleased the Lord to stir up the greater 
 part of my flock to exhort me by all means, as I 
 valued my own health and their well-being, to remove 
 a little from the bustle and intrusion of this great city, 
 and abide in the country during some of the summer 
 months ; and two of the brethren who loved me much 
 engaged, unknown to me, a place in the country, 
 where, without forsaking my charge, I might reside in 
 peace and quietness amidst the beauty and bounty with 
 which God hath covered the earth. This occurring so 
 unexpectedly, at the time when all concerned were 
 soliciting me to undertake the whole care and respon- 
 sibility of the translation, and perceiving that the work 
 was hkely to suffer from a divided labour, without 
 being at all hastened, I resolved at length, insufficient 
 as was my knowledge of the language at that time, to 
 conquer all difficulties and heartily to give myself to 
 the Lord and to His Church during these weeks of 
 retirement ; for I was well convinced that the health 
 which I most needed was the healing waters of the 
 Holy Spirit, which I thus made bold to sohcit, by 
 devoting myself to His service ; and certainly the 
 labourer was not disappointed of his hire. I prevented 
 VOL. I. C C 
 
386 
 
 BECKENHAM. 
 
 the dawning of the morning, and I envied the setting 
 in of the shades of evening to labour in my work ; 
 and when my hands and my eyes failed me, because of 
 weakness, the helper whom God hath given meet for 
 me served me with hers, and so we laboured to bring 
 this labour of love to completion, purposing to offer it 
 to the Church as our Christmas offering. Oh, that my 
 brethren in Christ might have the same divine satisfac- 
 tion and unwearied delight in reading, that I had in 
 translating this wonderful work ! ” 
 
 It would be difficult to add to without impairing the 
 perfection of this beautiful sketch of the summer 
 leisure which Irving “ gave to the Lord.” The retire- 
 ment of the pair, so wonderfully united in labour and 
 sympathy, was at Beckenham ; where, with that child 
 of tears over whom they could not choose but watch 
 with double sohcitude, they hved in quiet, at least, if 
 not in repose, for the greater part of the summer. 
 During all this time, Irving went up to London every 
 Saturday, remaining until Monday, to fuM his usual 
 laborious ministerial duties ; and in the interval 
 laboured, as he has described, at the work — perhaps 
 of all literary labours the most tiresome and ^rearing 
 out — of this translation. Such was his version of 
 relaxation and ease. He worked at it so closely, that 
 he was at one time threatened with loss of sight in 
 consequence — those strong out-of-doors eyes of his 
 evidently not having been adapted by nature for 
 poring perpetually over print and paper. However, 
 he appears to have known the true medicine for his 
 own case. The village quiet, and incidental advan- 
 tages, passively enjoyed, of fresh air and summer 
 
Irving’s “helper meet for him.” 
 
 387 
 
 greenness, comforted and refreshed his heart, as he sat 
 labouring with his imperfect Spanish over the long 
 treatise of Laciinza ; and, in the calm of those toils, 
 his liealth returned to him. The defect in his eyes 
 even helped him to find out the auxiliary which was at 
 hand, and of which in after times he largely availed 
 himself “I rejoice to tell you that Edward is very 
 much better,” writes Mrs. Irving to her sister. “He 
 has now made me almost entirely his amanuensis. I 
 even write his discourses, which to him is a most 
 wonderful relief This will surprise you when you 
 remember he could bear no one in the room with 
 him ; still he can bear no one but myself ; but he can 
 stop and give ear to my observations.” .... And 
 the anxious mother diverges from this description into 
 expressions of subdued alarm lest baby should have 
 the whooping-cough, and a wife’s tender admiration of 
 her Imsband’s increasing fondness for the child. Once 
 more the strain is idyllic ; but the fond woman’s 
 letters, in which “ dear Edward ” appears as the centre 
 of everything, invested with a certain impersonal 
 perfection, do not convey so clear a picture out of the 
 bosom of that domestic happiness, tranquiUity, anxiety, 
 love, and labour — the sublime but common course of 
 life — as the brief words in which he himself comme- 
 morates the summer scene. It was a halcyon moment, 
 subdued by the touch of past sorrow, and that 
 trembling which experience so soon brings into all 
 mortal enjoyment, yet sweet with the more exquisite 
 happiness which only those who have sorrowed and 
 trembled together can snatch out of the midst of 
 then* years. 
 
 c c 2 
 
388 
 
 THE HIBEENIAK BIBLE SOCIETY. 
 
 This laborious retirement had been preceded by the 
 toils and excitements of a London May, with all its 
 calls upon the powers and the patience of the great 
 orator. One of the religious meetings of the season 
 was distinguished by an oft-told incident — one of the 
 common wonders which have established Irving’s 
 character for eccentricity among those who know 
 little more of him than is conveyed by such anecdotes. 
 This was the meeting of the Hibernian Bible Society, 
 at which, the previous year, he had made so remark- 
 able an appearance, denouncing and resisting the terror 
 or complacency with which its members yielded to a 
 popular outcry. This year — probably, as one of his 
 friends suggests, that he might offer his support as 
 openly as his rebuke — he gave his watch, till he should 
 be able to redeem it, to the subscription in aid of the 
 Society. It is the only incident standing out from this 
 tranquil period of his hfe. 
 
 During the summer of 1826, while Irving vras 
 busied with his translation, the expectation conveyed 
 in this Spanish book, to which his own mind and 
 that of many others had been directed, with special 
 force and clearness, not very long before, seems to have 
 swelled within the minds of all who held it, to such an 
 amount of solemn excitement and inquiring interest as 
 could no longer keep silence. If the advent of the 
 Lord were indeed close at hand ; if events were visibly 
 marching forward to that great visible era of doom and 
 triumph, as so many students of prophecy concurred 
 in beheving — it was but natural that a hope so extra- 
 ordinary should bring the httle brotherhood into a 
 union far more intimate than that of mere concurrence 
 
ALBURY. ■ 
 
 389 
 
 in belief. The bond between them was rather that 
 personal and exciting one which exists among a party 
 full of anxiety for the restoration or election of a king 
 — a patriotic band of conspirators furnished with all the 
 information and communications in cipher which cannot 
 be given at length to the common mass — than the 
 calmer link between theologians united in doctrine ; 
 and indeed one wonders more at the steady pertinacity 
 of human nature which could go on in all the ordinary 
 habitudes of the flesh under the solemn commotion of 
 such a hope, than at any kind of conference or extra- 
 ordinary consultation which might be held under the 
 circumstances. “A desire to compare their views with 
 respect to the prospects of the Church at this present 
 crisis ” naturally arose among them, as Irving informs us 
 in the preface to Ben-Ezra ; and after several meetings 
 during the summer, a serious and lengthened conference 
 on the subject was arranged to take place at Albury, 
 the residence of one of the most remarkable of the httle 
 prophetic parliament, the late Henry Drummond. 
 
 It is unnecessary to enter into any history of tliis 
 remarkable man, who was but the other day, in the full 
 force of his wonderful individuahty, taking his part m 
 all the affairs of the world. That individuahty was too 
 marked and striking to permit any calm, general opinion 
 of the merits of a man who was at once a rehgious 
 leader, and the patron of rehgious distress throughout 
 the world ; an independent influence, and most caustic 
 critic in the British parliament; a behever in all the mys- 
 teries of faith, yet a contemptuous denouncer of every- 
 thing beyond the shadowy line which he recogihsed as 
 dividing faith from superstition ; the temporal head, in 
 
390 
 
 HENEY DEUMMOND. 
 
 some respects, of a band of religionists ; and yet a man 
 in full communion with the busy world, keeping the 
 ear of society, and never out of the fullest tide of 
 hfe. Such a conjunction of character had never been 
 witnessed before in his generation, and has given- 
 occasion for estimates as different as are the points 
 of view from which they are taken. Such as he was, 
 all impetuous and wilful — with an arbitrary magnifi- 
 cence of disposition possible only to a man born to 
 great riches, and unconscious of many of those natural 
 restraints which teach most men the impossibihty of 
 putting their own will into full execution — Mr. Drum- 
 mond had from his youth dedicated his wealth, his wit, 
 his unparalleled activity, his social position, everything 
 he had and was, to the service of God, according as 
 that appeared to his vivid but pecuhar apprehension. 
 Before this time he had appeared in the track of the 
 Haldanes at Geneva, where the dead theological 
 lethargy of the early Eeformed Church was again 
 waking into hfe, and had heard the Hebrew Wolff 
 questioning the Eoman professors in the chambers of the 
 Propaganda. Hot very long before, Irving himself, a 
 very different mould of man, had recorded in his 
 journal a certain dissatisfaction with the perpetual 
 external activity of the restless religious potentate. 
 But this warm link of common behef awoke closer 
 feehngs of brotherhood. Henry Drummond, impatient, 
 fastidious, and arbitrary, a master of contemptuous 
 expression, acting and speaking with all the sudden- 
 ness of an irresponsible agent, was as unlike a man 
 as could possibly be supposed to the great Scotch 
 preacher, with all the grand simphcity of liis assump- 
 
CONFEEENOE FOR THE STUDY OF PROPHECY. 
 
 391 
 
 lions and tender brotherhood of his heart. But “ they 
 who loved His appearing” were united by a spell 
 which transcended every merely human sympathy ; 
 and from this time Mr. Drummond appears to have 
 exercised a certain degree of influence, _yarying, but 
 always inc reasing, over the career of Irving. Their 
 first point of actual conjunction appears to have been 
 at this meeting of prophetical students, held at Albury. 
 When the summer was over, with all its restraints of 
 labour and fashion, and early winter whitened the 
 gentle hills of Surrey, the grave little company assem- 
 bled in that house, which has since given character 
 and colour to the district round it, and become for 
 one division of Christians a kind of visible Beth-El in 
 the wilderness of men’s houses. 
 
 One of our number,” says Irving, in the preface already 
 quoted, well known for his princely munificence, thought 
 well to invite by special letter all the men, both ministers 
 and laymen, of any orthodox communion whom he knew or 
 could ascertain to be interested in prophetic studies ; that 
 they should assemble at his house of Albury Park, in Surrey, 
 on the first day of Advent, that we might deliberate for a full 
 week upon the great prophetic questions which do at present 
 most intimately concern Christendom. In answer to this 
 honourable summons, there assembled about twenty men of 
 every rank, and church, and orthodox communion in these 
 realms ; and in honour of our meeting, Grod so ordered it that 
 Joseph Wolff, the Jewish missionary, a son of Abraham and 
 brother of our Lord, both according to flesh and according to 
 faith, should also be of the number. And here, for eight 
 days, under the roof of Henry Drummond, Esq., the present 
 High Sheriff of the county, and under the moderation of the 
 Eev. Hugh McNeil, the rector of the parish of Albury, we 
 spent six full days in close and laborious examination of the 
 Scriptures These things I write from recollection, not 
 
392 
 
 CONCERNING THE SECOND ADVENT. 
 
 caring to use the copious notes which I took ; for it was a 
 mutual understanding that nothing should go forth from the 
 meeting with any stamp of authority, that the Church might 
 not take offence, as if we had assumed to ourselves any name 
 or right in the Church. But there was such a sanction given 
 to these judgments by the fulness, freeness, and harmony 
 which prevailed in the midst of partial and minor differences 
 of opinion; by the spirit of prayer and love and zeal for Grod’s 
 glory and the Church’s good ; by the sweet temper and large 
 charity which were spread abroad ; and by the common con- 
 sent that Grod was in a very remarkable way present with us 
 — that I deem it my duty to make known these great results 
 to the Christian churches which I have thus so early an op- 
 portunity of addressing. 
 
 Having said so much, I think it to be my duty further to 
 state the godly order and arrangement according to which 
 the Albury conference, concerning the second Advent, was 
 conducted ; for to this, under Grod, I attribute in no small 
 degree the abundance of blessings with which our souls were 
 made glad. We set apart a day for each subject, and resolved 
 to give no more than one day to each ; and as we were but 
 six free days assembled, having met on the Thursday and 
 parted on the Friday of the week following, we joined the 
 fourth and seventh subjects together, conceiving them to be 
 closely connected with one another ; and having apportioned 
 a separate subject to each day, we proceeded to each day’s 
 work after the following method : we divided the labour of 
 each day into three parts — a morning diet before breakfast, 
 the second and principal diet between breakfast and dinner, 
 and the third in the evening. The object of our morning 
 diet, to which we assembled at eight o’clock precisely — as 
 early as we could well see — was twofold: first, to seek the 
 Lord for the light, wisdom, patience, devotion to His glory, 
 communion of saints, and every other gift and grace of the 
 Holy Spirit which was necessary and proper to the labour 
 which was that day appointed us in Grod’s good providence ; 
 this office was always fulfilled by a minister of the gospel. 
 Secondly, one of the number was appointed over night, and 
 sometimes several nights before, to open the subject of the 
 day in an orderly and regular way, taking all his grounds of 
 
A SCHOOL OF PROPHETS. 
 
 393 
 
 argument, and substantiating all his conclusions out of the 
 Holy Scriptures ; and while he thus proceeded, the rest of 
 the brethren took down the substance of what he said, and 
 noted down the texts from which he reasoned ; for we sat in 
 the library around a large table, provided with every con- 
 venience for writing and for consulting the Holy Scriptures. 
 When the outlines and divisions and whole groundwork of 
 the subject were thus laid out by the brother, strengthened 
 by our prayers, we parted without at that time declaring 
 anything, and refreshed ourselves with breakfast, where we 
 met the pious and honourable lady and family of our worthy 
 host. Two full hours were allowed from the breaking up of 
 the morning till the assembling of the midday diet, which 
 was at eleven o’clock, in order that the brethren might each 
 one try and prove himself before the Lord upon the great 
 questions at issue, and that we might come together with 
 convictions, not with uncertain persuasions, and speak from 
 the conscience, not from present impressions. And when we 
 assembled, and had shortly sought the Divine favour to con- 
 tinue with us, an office generally performed by our reverend 
 Moderator, he proceeded in due course to ask each man for 
 his convictions upon the subject which had been laid before 
 us in the morning; and the rest diligently used their pen in 
 catching the spirit of what dropped from each other’s lips. 
 No appeal was allowed but to the Scriptures, of which the 
 originals lay before us ; in the interpretation of which, if any 
 question arose, we had the most learned Eastern scholar 
 perhaps in the world to appeal to, and a native Hebrew — I 
 mean Joseph Wolff. In this way did every man proceed to 
 lay out the nature and ground of his convictions, which was 
 done with so much liberty, and plentifulness, and mutual 
 respect and reverence of the Holy Word, as much to delight 
 our souls. Now this diet lasted oft four, and sometimes 
 almost five hours, — our aim being to gather the opinions of 
 every one before we parted ; and when we tired, we refreshed 
 ourselves with prayer, which also we regarded as our main 
 defence against Satan. This diet also we closed with an 
 offering of thanksgiving by any of the clerical brethren whom 
 the Moderator might pitch upon. After dinner we again 
 proceeded, about seven o’clock, to the work of winding up 
 
394 
 
 lEVING’S VEESES. 
 
 and concluding the whole subject; but in a more easy and 
 familiar manner, as being seated round the fire of the great 
 library-room, yet still looking to a moderator, and with the 
 same diligent attention to order, each seeming desirous to 
 record everything that was said. This went on by the pro- 
 pounding of any question or difficulty which had occurred 
 during the day, addressed to him who had opened the sub- 
 ject, or to any other able to resolve it : and so we proceeded 
 till towards eleven o’clock, when the whole duties of the day 
 were concluded by the singing of a hymn, and the offering 
 up of an evening prayer. Such were the six days we spent 
 under the holy and hospitable roof of Albury House, within 
 the chime of the church bell, and surrounded by the most 
 picturesque and beautiful forms of nature. But the sweetest 
 spot was that council-room where I met the servants of the 
 Lord — the wise virgins waiting with oil in their lamps for 
 the bridegroom ; and a sweeter still was that secret chamber 
 where I met in the spirit my Lord and Master, whom I hope 
 soon to meet in the flesh.” 
 
 And upon this the warm emotions of the preacher burst 
 forth into verse — verse less melodious and full of poetry 
 than his ordinary diction, but not less the expression 
 of those high-pitched and lyrical chmaxes of feehng 
 which naturally find utterance in rhythm and cadence. 
 The narrative, however, which Irving gives in such 
 detail, redeems the singular assembly out of that obh- 
 vion into which it and its proceedings have since fallen. 
 What their deliberations were, or the results of them, 
 is neither important to this history, nor is the present 
 writer qualified to enter into such a subject. They who 
 had set their chiefest hopes upon the personal appear- 
 ance of our Lord, at a period which some actu- 
 ally fixed, and all regarded as close at hand, looked 
 also, as a necessary prehminary of that appearance, for 
 a personal development of evil, more remarkable and 
 
THE ANTICHEIST. 
 
 395 
 
 decided than anything that had preceded it ; and had 
 so identified and concluded upon the source from which 
 this Antichrist was to come, that the ruin of the First 
 Napoleon, and the death of his harmless and unfortunate 
 son, had so much effect upon one, at least, of the dis- 
 appointed expounders of prophecy, as, when fact could 
 no longer be contradicted, to bring an illness upon him. 
 This gentleman, as common rumour reports, first de- 
 clared that it could not be, and then ‘‘ took to his bed ” 
 in dire disappointment and distress. 
 
 A more formal account of the deliberations and con- 
 clusions of this extraordinary little assembly was pub- 
 lished by Mr. Drummond himself, first in 1827, and 
 afterwards when the successive meetings took place. 
 These reports, however, being given in the form of 
 dialogues conducted by Philalethes, Anastasius, &c., are 
 by that masquerade so withdrawn out of all recognisable 
 individuality, that neither the persons who took part 
 in the conference, nor the historian of it himself, — 
 piquant and characteristic as are his other writmgs, — 
 are able to throw any perceptible token of their presence 
 through the chaos of words and consultations. The 
 assembly only meets again in Irving’s Preface^ and in a 
 fighter sketch made by the missionary Wolff, who, 
 about this time, had come over to England under the 
 patronage of the pious autocrat of Albury. ‘‘ Within 
 the chime of the church bell,” as Irving says — looking 
 out upon the woods and lawns which inclosed that 
 venerable remnant of ancient masonry, within the 
 walls of which another ritual and a fuUer worship 
 were to connect and commemorate the names of Irving 
 and Drummond, occurred this conference — the begin- 
 
396 
 
 A HERALD OF THE LORD’S COMING. 
 
 ning of the second chapter of the preacher’s career — a 
 prayerful retreat of piety, surrounded by all the genial 
 observances of hospitality and human communion. It 
 is an era of no smaU importance in Irving’s life. Doubt- 
 less a more than usual awakening of general interest on 
 the subject of prophecy — so often left in the mystery 
 which can never be fully cleared up until the end 
 come — was evidenced by a consultation so remarkable. 
 But of the men there assembled, there was, perhaps, no 
 such indivisible man as Irving — none so liable to be 
 seized upon by the splendid expectation, which was 
 henceforward, more or less, to abstract his thoughts from 
 things more earthly ; or to give himself up, with such 
 ever-increasing devotion, as a herald of his Lord’s 
 coming. This he did henceforth, often losing, in the 
 breathless interest of his theme, all regard to those 
 necessary boundaries of time and space, of which he 
 never had been too observant. 
 
 His companions are described generally as ministers 
 and members of all the different orthodox churches — 
 men both lay and clerical ; some of them already dis- 
 tinguished, and some who were hereafter to become so. 
 Mr. Hatley Frere, who, according to his own testimony, 
 was the first to turn Irving’s thoughts towards pro- 
 phecy; Mr. Lewis Way, whose pubhcations on the 
 Second Advent Irving cites, along with his own and 
 that of Ben-Ezra^ as a token of the unity of three 
 churches in the one great doctrine ; the Eev. Hugh 
 M‘Heil, since so notable a member of his party in the 
 church ; along with Wolff, Drummond, and Irving, are 
 the only members named at this early conference. But 
 the solemnity of the meeting, the importance wliich all 
 
SIGNS OF THE TIMES. 
 
 397 
 
 its members felt to attach to it, and the evident curiosity 
 it awakened, make it of itself a remarkable incident in 
 the history of its time. That time was clearly a time of 
 expectation. An age of great events was just over, and 
 the public mind had not yet accustomed itself to the 
 domestic calm. At home the internal economy of the 
 country was swelling with great throes — agonies in 
 which many people saw prognostics most final and fatal. 
 Out of all the visible chaos, what a joyful, magnificent 
 deliverance, to believe — through whatsoever anguish 
 the troubled but short interval miglit pass — that the Lord 
 was coming visibly to confound his enemies and vindi- 
 cate his people ! No wonder they assembled at Albury 
 to build themselves up in that splendid hope ; no wonder 
 the empire thrilled, through some thoughtful, and many 
 believing minds at the mere name of such an expecta- 
 tion ; — least wonder of all, that a mind always so lofty 
 and attuned to high emotions as that of Irving, should 
 have given itself over to the contemplation ; or should 
 shortly begin to cast wistful looks over all the world, 
 not only for prophecies fulfilled, but for signs approach- 
 ing — watching the gleams upon the horizon which 
 should herald the advent of the Lord. 
 
 This meeting, he tells us, delayed the completion 
 and publication of the book which had cost him so 
 much toil ; but it was after all only the January 
 of 1827, when that laborious performance, with 
 the long preface, which occupies half of an octavo 
 volume, and is one of his finest and most characteristic 
 productions, was offered to the Church.” I can find no 
 evidence of the amount of favour which Ben-Ezra 
 and his work attained in the Church ; but the transla- 
 
398 
 
 THE FIFE BANK. 
 
 tor’s preface has been often quoted, and was re-printed 
 in a separate form, along with some other of Irving’s 
 shortest and least known publications, a few years ago, 
 by some of his admirers in Glasgow. 
 
 The year 1826 contains few letters and little do- 
 mestic incident. Once only, besides that picture of 
 the tender seclusion and generous labours of the little 
 family at Beckenham, which I have already instanced, 
 the clouds open round the Pentonville house. It is to 
 show the great preacher and his wife consulting toge- 
 ther over a calamity which has suddenly faUen upon 
 her father’s family. The minister of Kirkcaldy had 
 been the unfortunate possessor of shares in the Fife 
 Bank — a local joint-stock banking company — which 
 had fallen into sudden ruin by the misconduct of some 
 of its managers ; such an occurrence as unhappily has 
 been familiar enough to us all in more recent days. 
 Immediately upon hearing of it, the • first impulse of 
 Irving was consolation and help. He and his Isabella 
 took the matter into tender consideration — so much 
 money was expected from a new publication — so much 
 was at present in hand ; and with suggestions of lofty 
 comfort in his heart, and warm, instantaneous filial im- 
 pulses of aid, he thus writes to the father in trouble : — 
 
 “ 21st January, 1826. 
 
 My dear Father, — I have heard from Elizabeth of the loss 
 in which you have been involved by wicked and worldly men, ^ 
 which is nothing new in the history of God’s faithful servants, 
 and ought not to trouble you. He that hath the stars in his 
 right hand may say to you, as to the angel of the Church 
 of Philadelphia, ‘ I know thy poverty (but thou art rich).’ 
 Kemember we are but promised to live by the altar, and the 
 rest is so much burdensome stewardry, to which we submit in 
 
HELP AND CONSOLATION. 
 
 399 
 
 accommodation to the weakness of our people There- 
 
 fore, be not cast down, nor let my dear mother be cast down. 
 Though the worst should come to the worst, what mattereth 
 it ? The kingdom of Heaven is still ours, unto which all 
 things shall be added. And unto the new Jerusalem, the 
 city of our habitation, the kings do bring the riches of the earth. 
 
 But we must provide things honest in the sight of all men, 
 that the name of Christ and his Grospel be not blasphemed, 
 and that I may be partaker of your trial, and partaker also of 
 your joy in rising above it, we, Isabella and I, must be allowed 
 
 to contribute our part I shall now also see to a 
 
 fourth edition of the Orations^ the third having been nearly 
 sold off some months ago. . . . Isabella and I feel much for 
 you and our dear mother, but we are not amazed or con- 
 founded as if some strange thing had befallen you . . 
 
 This letter is concluded by Mrs. Irving, with the 
 touching argument of a woman and a mother. “ If we 
 have been able to say, ‘ The will of the Lord be done,’ 
 when He saw meet to take from us those who were far 
 more dear than all worldly goods,” writes little Ed- 
 ward’s mother, her heart still bleeding from that 
 wound, “ I trust you will be enabled to take well the 
 spoihng of your goods.” It was thus they comforted 
 each other, who had mourned together. 
 
 Early in 1827, the church in Eegent Square — over 
 the building of which Irving and his congregation had 
 watched so lovingly, and which was to deliver them 
 from the crowds and commotion of the little Caledonian 
 chapel — was at last completed. At the time of its erec- 
 tion, it was considered the handsomest church not be- 
 longing to the Establishment (for the Presbyterians of 
 that day, proud of their National Church, and connection 
 with the Scotch Estabhshment, would have done any- 
 thing sooner than allow themselves to be called Dissen- 
 
400 
 
 OPENING OF NATIONAL SCOTCH CHUKCH. 
 
 ters) in London. One tliousand sittings were taken at 
 the time of its opening; and the excellent Wilham Hamil- 
 ton writes, in all the pious joy of a church official, about 
 the “ gratifying success ” which had attended the open- 
 ing services, at which Dr. Chalmers officiated. “Dr. 
 Chalmers,” writes Mr. Hamilton, sending the newspapers 
 which contained an account of these services, along with 
 his own joyful description, to his future wife, the sister- 
 m-law of Irving, in Kirkcaldy manse, “ was so highly 
 pleased with his stay among us, that he spontaneously 
 offered to pay us an annual visit. He has comphed 
 with our request to publish the sermon he preached at 
 the opening, which contained a powerful defence of our 
 excellent pastor, and a most eloquent eulogium on his 
 extraordinary talents, piety, and worth, which was not 
 a little gratifying to the congregation, but gall and worm- 
 wood to some of his enemies who were present.” On the 
 evening of the same Sunday, Dr. Gordon of Edinburgh, 
 another old and tried friend of Irving, preached; and 
 with the highest auguries of increase and prosperity — 
 relieved from the inconveniences of popularity which 
 they had felt so deeply, and able at last to appear, not in 
 relays, but as a body together, — the congregation into 
 which the fifty worshippers of Hatton Garden had grown 
 entered into quiet possession of the handsome church 
 for which they had laboured and longed. “ Both Dr. 
 Gordon and Dr. Chalmers,” says the affectionate witness 
 we have just quoted, “ love our friend, and bore a noble 
 testimony to him in pubhc and in private wherever 
 they went. . . . Our session now consists of seven 
 elders and seven deacons — all, I beheve, smcerely de- 
 voted to the good cause ; and I am happy to say that 
 
UNANIMITY OF THE CONGREGATION. 
 
 401 
 
 the most perfect harmony prevails amongst us, and 
 indeed throughout the congregation.” 
 
 Such were the domestic circumstances of the com- 
 munity over which Irving presided. Inspired by his 
 fervid teaching, they beheved themselves estabhshed 
 there to carry out “ a work which is hkely to be the 
 means, in God’s hand, of greatly advancing the spiritual 
 interests of our countrymen in the metropohs.” By 
 this time already many of the sermons whicn were 
 afterwards found out to be heretical, had been preached 
 and hstened to with equal miconsciousness of any 
 divergence from the orthodox faith ; and the una- 
 nimity of regard and admiration with which the people 
 clung to their leader had been as yet rather strengthened 
 than diminished by anything that had been alleged 
 against him. The long services in which he would not 
 be curtailed ; his perpetual determination, notwithstand- 
 ing the overflowing of human kindness in his heart, to 
 be among them the priest, the pastor, the spkitual 
 guide, and not the companion and friend alone ; 
 the high position he assumed, and the uncompromising 
 distinctness of his attacks upon all the special forms of 
 evil, had neither lessened the confidence nor weakened 
 the affection of his adherents. People who steadily, 
 and not capriciously according to the dictates of fashion, 
 resorted to the teaching of a man who kept them 
 nearly three hours at a stretch, Sunday after Sunday, 
 plunged in the deepest questions of religion — sometimes 
 mamtained the strain of an argument which ascended 
 into the secret places of the Trinity, unfathomable 
 mystery — sometimes stuTed with appeals and ex- 
 hortations which excited the multitude into all but 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 D D 
 
402 
 
 DR. CHALMERS’S DIARY. 
 
 open outcry, must indeed have been under the sway 
 of a fascination seldom exercised, and of which few men 
 know the secret. The thousand souls, who at its earliest 
 commencement declared their allegiance to the preacher 
 in his new church, had suffered this test of their sin- 
 cerity ; and were unanimous, harmonious, objecting 
 neither to his long sermons, nor to his orthodoxy. 
 But other sentiments had begun to dawn upon other 
 men. 
 
 Dr. Chalmers, always doubtful, puzzled, but admir- 
 ing, never knowing what to make of this genius, which 
 he could not choose but acknowledge, yet which was 
 so different from his own, and in some respects so in- 
 comprehensible to it — Dr. Chalmers writes from Lon- 
 don to his wife, with the same half- wondering, half- 
 comprehending regard which was visible in almost 
 everything he said of Irving, as follows : — 
 
 1th May. — Mr. Irving made his appearance and took me 
 to his house, where I drank tea. Mr. Miller and Mr. Mac- 
 lean, Scottish ministers of the London Presbytery, were there. 
 Their talk is very much of meetings and speeches. Irving, 
 though, is very impressive, and I do like the force and rich- 
 ness of his conversation Studied about two hours, and 
 
 then proceeded to take a walk with James.* We had just 
 gone out, when we met Mr. Irving. He begged of James the 
 privilege of two or three hours in his house, to study a sermon. 
 I was vastly tickled with this new instance of the inroads of 
 Scotsmen ; however, James could not help himself, and was 
 obliged to consent. We were going back to a family dinner, 
 and I could see the alarm that was felt on the return of the 
 
 * A brother of Dr. Chalmers, noted, as all the readers of his 
 biography will remember, for a certain kind churhshness, and 
 special terror of the encroachments of Scotch visitors, and the uni- 
 versal entertainment and introductory letters required by them. 
 
IRVING KEEPS CHALMERS WAITING. 
 
 403 
 
 great Mr. Irving, who was very easily persuaded to join us at 
 dinner, and the study was all put to flight. There was not 
 a single sentence of study all the time ; and notwithstanding 
 Mrs. C ’s alarm about the shabbiness of the dinner, every- 
 
 thing went on most delightfully. Irving intermingled the serious 
 and the gay, took a good, hearty repast, and really charmed 
 even James himself, so that I was very glad of the inroad that 
 had been made upon him. Thursday . — Irving and I went to 
 Bedford Square. Mr. and Mrs. Montagu took us out in their 
 carriage to Highgate, where we spent three hours with the 
 great Coleridge. His conversation flowed in a mighty un- 
 remitting stream. You know that Irving sits at his feet, and 
 drinks in the inspiration of every syllable that falls from him. 
 There is a secret and, to me, unintelligible communion of spirit 
 between them, on the ground of a certain Grerman mysticism, 
 and transcendental lake poetry which I am not yet up to. 
 Friday. — Mr. Irving conducted the preliminary services in the ' 
 National Church. There was a prodigious want of tact in 
 the length of his prayers — forty minutes; and altogether 
 it was an hour and a half from the commencement of the 
 service ere I began. . . . The dinner took place at five o’clock. 
 Many speeches. Irving certainly errs in the outrunning of 
 sympathy.” 
 
 The length of this prehminary service seems to have 
 troubled the great Scotch preacher mightily. He ap- 
 pears to have felt, with true professional disgust, the 
 wearing out of that audience which properly belonged, 
 not to Irving, but to himself. Long after, he recurs to 
 the same incident in a conversation with Mr. J. J. 
 Gurney. “ I undertook to open Irving’s new church in 
 London,” says the discontented divine. ‘‘ The congre- 
 gation, in their eagerness to obtain seats, had already 
 been assembled three hours. Irving said he would assist 
 me by reading a chapter for me. He chose the longest 
 in the Bihle^ and went on for an hour and a half. On 
 another occasion he offered me the same aid, adding, 
 
 D D 2 
 
404 
 
 DE. CHALMEES SHAKES HIS HEAD. 
 
 ‘ I can be short.’ I said, ‘How long will it take you?’ 
 ‘ Only an hour and forty minutes.’ ” 
 
 Such an indiscretion was likely to go to the heart of 
 the waiting preacher. Hr. Chalmers never seems to 
 have forgotten that impatient interval, during which he 
 had to sit by silent, and see his friend take the bloom 
 of expectation off the audience, which had come not 
 to hear Hving, but Chalmers. In all his after re- 
 marks, a reminiscence of his own sore experience 
 recurs. On the following Saturday, he records that 
 “ Mr. Gordon informed me that yesternight Mr. Irving 
 preached on his prophecies at Hackney chapel for two 
 hours and a half ; and though very powerful, yet the 
 people were dropping away. I really fear lest his 
 prophecies, and the excessive length and weariness of 
 his services, may unship him altogether, and I mean to 
 write to him seriously on the subject.” 
 
 This was the impression of a stranger, unaware of the 
 long training by which Irving had accustomed his peo- 
 ple to these prolonged addresses ; and also of an elder, 
 and — so far as experience went — superior in the Church, 
 who was slow to forget that “ the great Mr. Irving ” had 
 once been his own nameless assistant and subordinate. 
 With dissatisfied and doubtful eyes, the celebrated Scotch 
 preacher contemplated the apparently brilliant and en- 
 couraging position of his friend. The practicable, which 
 did not trouble Irving, was strongly present in the mind 
 of Chalmers. He, with both feet planted steadily on 
 the common soil, cast a troubled eye upon the soaring 
 spirit which scorned the common restraints of possi- 
 bihty. He shakes his head as he tells his wife of the 
 mingled fascination and imprudence visible to himself 
 
IMPOETANT CEISIS. 
 
 405 
 
 in this incomprehensible man. Chalmers, too, was 
 capable of following one idea with the most absorbing 
 enthusiasm ; but his ideas were those of statesmanship, 
 practicable and to be worked out ; and with the eyes of 
 a wisdom which, if not worldly, was at least substantial, 
 and fully aware of all the restrictions of humanity, he 
 looked on doubtfully at a man who calculated no pos- 
 sibihties, and who estimated the capacities of human 
 nature, not from among the levels of ordinary life, 
 but from the mountain top of his own elevated and 
 impassioned spirit. Dr. Chalmers shook his head. 
 What else could a man of reason and ordinary pru- 
 dence do ? Nothing could be certainly predicated of 
 such a career as that which, under changed circum- 
 stances, made now a new, and to all appearance, pros- 
 perous beginning. Triumph or ruin might be beyond ; 
 scarcely the steady progress and congregational ad- 
 vancement, which is the only advancement in life open 
 to the hopes of an orthodox Scotch minister. Such a 
 progress, happy but uneventful — a yearly roll of addi- 
 tional members, perhaps a hundred pounds or so of 
 additional income, a recognised place on the platform 
 of Exeter Hall — was not a natural vaticination of the 
 future course of Edward Irvmg ; and over anything else, 
 what could Chalmers — what could any other sober- 
 minded, clerical spectator do otherwise than shake his 
 head ? Something was like to come of it too far out 
 of the ordinary course to yield ordinary comfort or 
 happiness ; and I don’t doubt that Chalmers returned to 
 Scotland alarmed and uneasy, comprehending as little 
 what would be the end, as he entered into the thouglits 
 and emotions wliich were bringing that end about. 
 
406 “ FASHION WENT HER IDLE WAT.” 
 
 And, indeed, it was a crisis of no small importance. 
 Up to this time, the preacher and his congregation 
 had been in exceptional circumstances. They had 
 never been able to make experiment of that calm con- 
 gregational existence. Crowded out of the httle Cale- 
 donian chapel for years, their hopes had gone forward 
 to that new church which was to be a kind of national 
 centre in the noisy capital, and the completion of which 
 was to open the way to a great and extended mission. 
 It was only natural that all the projects and hopes both 
 of leader and people should fix upon that place as the 
 scene of the result and issue to their great labours. 
 Doubtless they did so unawares. For years the preacher 
 had been used to see round him an unusual exceptional 
 crowd, drawn out of all regions, necessarily unsteady 
 and fluctuating — a crowd which he could charm and 
 thrill and overawe for the moment, but out of which 
 few results could be visible. Now was the time to test 
 what had been done in that flattering overflow of 
 popular admiration. If, as Carlyle says, “ hopes of a 
 new moral reformation ” had fired the preacher’s heart 
 — if, with the flattered expectation of a popular idol, 
 he was watching to see the “ sons of Mammon, and high 
 sons of Belial and Beelzebub, become sons of God, and 
 the gumflowers of Almack’s to be made hving roses in 
 a new Eden ” — now was the time to test that dream. 
 The tiny chapel where celebrities could not be over- 
 looked, and where the crowd never could lessen — first 
 chapter and preparatory stage of the history — was now 
 left in the quiet of the past ; and with full space to col- 
 lect and receive all who sought him, and ‘the highest 
 expectations and hopes of now seeing the fruits of his 
 
mVING’S OWN EVIDENCE ON THE SUBJECT. 
 
 407 
 
 labour, Irving entered that new temple, whence a 
 double blessing was to descend upon his people’s 
 prayers. If fashion had crazed him with her mo- 
 mentary adulation, here was the critical point at which 
 fashion and he parted ; the beginning of a disenchant- 
 ment which, next to personal betrayal, is perhaps the 
 hardest experience in the world. 
 
 This has been accepted by many — and asserted by 
 one who knew him thoroughly, and from whose judg- 
 ment I know not how to presume to differ — as the secret 
 cause of aU the darker shadows and perplexing singu- 
 larities of his later hfe. I am as httle able to cope 
 with Mr. Carlyle in philosophic insight as I am in 
 personal knowledge ; I can only take my appeal to 
 Irving himself in the singular journal which has already 
 been given. If that record shows any trace of a man 
 whose heart has been caught in the meshes of the 
 social enchantress ; if he looks to have Circe’s cup in 
 his hand as he goes pondering through those streets of 
 Bloomsbury and Pentonville, or with anxious care and 
 delicacy visits the doubtful believer in Fleet Market, 
 and comforts the sorrowful souls who seek his kindness 
 in the nameless lanes of the city, I am willing to allow 
 that this was the influence that set his mind astray. 
 But if the readers of this history are as unable as 
 myself to perceive any trace of that intoxication — an 
 intoxication too well known in all its symptoms, and 
 too often seen to be recognised with difficulty — another 
 clue may be reasonably required for this mystery. I 
 can find no evidence whatever, except in what he him- 
 self says in the dedication of his Sermons to Mr. Basil 
 Montagu, of even a tendency on Irving’s part to be 
 
408 
 
 REALITY. 
 
 carried away by that brilliant social stream. He speaks 
 of himself there as “ being tempted to go forth, in the 
 simplicity of my heart, into those high and noble circles 
 of society which were then open to me, and which 
 must either have engulfed me by their enormous attrac- 
 tions, or else repelled my simple affections, shattered 
 and befooled, to become the mockery and contempt of 
 every envious and disappointed railer.” But that was 
 at the earhest period of his London experience. The 
 master of the Pentonville household, with all its quaint 
 and simple economics, with its domestic services, fre- 
 quented not by the great, and its stream of homely 
 guests — the faithful priest, exercising all the human 
 courtesies and Christian tendernesses of his nature to 
 win a sullen, London errand-boy, or convince a sceptic 
 of the humblest ranks — who is not to be moved by 
 the representations even of his anxious elders to shorten 
 his services by half-an-hour, or adapt himself to the 
 necessities of his popularity, — is, on his own evidence, 
 the most unlike a man carried away and crazed 
 by the worship of Fashion that can be conceived. 
 If he had been such a man, here was the sickening 
 moment when the syren visibly went her way. The 
 crowd that fluctuated in the tiny aisles of the Caledonian 
 chapel, and presented the preacher with a wonderful, 
 suggestive, moving panorama of the great world without, 
 which he addressed through these thronged and ever- 
 changing faces, settled into steady identity in Eegent 
 Square. The throng ceased in that spacious interior. 
 Those mists of infinitude cleared off from the per- 
 manent horizon — ‘‘ Fashion went her idle way,” Mr. 
 Carlyle says : indisputably the preacher must have 
 
CESSATION OF THE CROWD. 
 
 409 
 
 learned that he was no longer addressing the world, 
 t he nation, th e great c apital o f the world, but a certain 
 clearly definable number of its popu lation — a congrega- 
 tion, in short, and not an age. 
 
 This great change happened to Irving at the moment 
 when he had apparently arrived at the beginning 
 of his harvest-time. The office-bearers of his church 
 found the fruit they sought in the roll of seat- 
 holders and communicants, the visible increase which 
 had promoted them from the Caledonian chapel to 
 the National Scotch church. But to the preacher 
 the effect must have been wonderfully different — 
 as different as reality always is from expectation. At 
 the end of that uncertain, brilliant probation which 
 seemed to promise results the most glorious, he woke 
 and found himself at the head of a large congregation. 
 It was all his friends could have wished for him — the 
 highest amount of external success which his Church 
 acknowledged. But it was an indifferent climax to the 
 lofty hopes of the great evangelist. Yet this great 
 shock and crisis seems to have been encountered and 
 got through unconsciously, with no such effects as might 
 have been anticipated. There is, indeed, no evidence 
 that Irving was himself aware when he passed out of 
 that wide horizon of hope and possibility, into the dis- 
 tinct field laid out for him under the smoky canopy 
 of London sky. Yet here is the evident point when 
 that transition happened. The wide popular current 
 ebbed away from the contracted ways of Hatton Garden, 
 and subsided into a recognisable congregation in Eegent 
 Square. “ The church was always weU filled, but no 
 longer crowded,” says the calm official retrospect of the 
 
410 
 
 ‘‘ THE PLATE.” 
 
 present community belonging to that cliurch. Fashion 
 then and there took her departure ; but so far from 
 plunging into wild attempts to re-attract her fickle de- 
 votion, the preacher seems to have gone on unconscious, 
 without even being aware of what had happened to 
 him. Years intervened, and the fervent beginnings of 
 thought — then only appearing in a firmament where the 
 hidden lights came out one by one, all unforeseen by 
 the eager gazer till they startled him with sudden illu- 
 minations — came to developments never unaccordant 
 with the nature that produced them, though mysterious 
 and often sad enough to the calm looker-on, before the 
 world which had subsided out of its frenzy of admira- 
 tion was tempted to return into a frenzy of curiosity 
 and wonder. In the meantime, Irving’s sober-minded 
 Scottish friends left him in his new beginning with 
 alarms and uneasy forebodings, not that he would peril 
 his understanding in attempts to retain his popularity, 
 but that the unmanageable sublimation and prophet- 
 spirit of the man, inaccessible as they felt it to all such 
 motives, would ruin his popularity altogether. 
 
 Some years before two silver salvers had been pre- 
 sented to Irving by the grateful office-bearers of the 
 Scotch church in Liverpool. When the National Scotch 
 church was opened, he presented them, with an im- 
 pulse of natural munificence, for the service of the 
 house of God. Everybody at all acquainted with the 
 usages of the Church of Scotland must be aware of 
 the collection made weekly at the doors of every place 
 of worship — a collection entirely voluntary, yet so 
 thorough ‘‘ an institution,” that, to an old-fashioned 
 Scotsman, the fact of passing “ the plate ” without 
 
mVING’S OFFEPJXG. 
 
 411 
 
 depositing a coin in it, would be something like a petty 
 crime. The fund thus collected is entitled the Session 
 Fund, and is in parish churches appropriated to the 
 rehef of the poor ; and it was from this fund alone that 
 Chalmers, in the day of his reign in Glasgow, provided 
 for the poor of his parish, and abolished pauper- 
 ism in St. John’s. Irvinn^ designed his silver salvers 
 for the reception of this weekly bounty, and presented 
 them to the church on the day of its opening, engraven 
 with the following inscription : — 
 
 These two plates I send to the National Scotch church, 
 London, on this the 11th of May, 1827, the day of its opening, 
 that they may stand on each side of the door to receive the 
 offerings for the Poor, and all other gifts of the congregation 
 of the Lord in all time coming while He permits. And if at 
 any time, which God forbid, the fountain of the people’s 
 charity should be dried up, and the Poor of the Lord’s house 
 be in want of bread, or His house itself under any restraint of 
 debt, I appoint that they shall be melted into shillings and 
 sixpences, for the relief of the same, so far as they will go. 
 
 ‘‘Edward Irving, A.M.,V.D.M. 
 
 “ Minister of the National Scotch Church, London.” 
 
 Irving’s purpose, I am sorry to say, was not carried 
 out. The elders, more prudent and less splendid than 
 he, imagined or discovered that the show of the silver 
 at the door of the church, even though watched over 
 by two of their members, would be too great a tempta- 
 tion to the clever thieves about. Irving’s salvers were 
 altogether withdrawn from the office of receiving the 
 pennies and sixpences of the congregation, and were 
 placed, where they still remain, among the communion 
 plate of the church in Kegent Square. 
 
412 
 
 THE BIBLE SOCIETY. 
 
 The only public appearance which he is recorded to 
 have made at this period was at one of the field days of 
 the long and warm intestine war which at that time 
 was raging in the Bible Society. The conduct of that 
 Society generally had not been agreeable to Irving. 
 Going to the meetings of its London Committee as to 
 the assembling of a body of men engaged in the ser- 
 vice of religion, he had been at once chilled and startled 
 by the entirely secular nature of their proceedings. 
 When he remonstrated, he was answered that they were 
 not missionaries, but booksellers ; and this was doubtless 
 one of the points at which the vulgar business^ and 
 bustling secularity of the religious world disgusted a 
 man who had nothing whatever to do with a mere 
 community of booksellers, nor could understand why 
 the Church’s interest should be specially claimed for 
 such. His indignation and protest on this point, how- 
 ever, were private ; the controversy was a pubhc one, 
 and had now lasted for many years. The question was 
 whether or not the Apocrypha should be issued along 
 with the canonical Scriptures as a part of the Bible, 
 which the Society professed themselves commissioned 
 to spread throughout the world. The warmest interest 
 had been excited in rehgious circles generally, and 
 especially in Scotland, by this dispute. North of the 
 Tweed the Apocrypha has always been held in par- 
 ticular abhorrence, and the idea of supporting, by their 
 labours and subscriptions, a Society which sent forth 
 this spurious revelation along with the canon of Scrip- 
 ture, roused the pugnacious kingdom into a blaze of 
 displeasirre and resistance. The Society at its head- 
 quarters stood out stoutly ; why, it seems impossible 
 
A MAY MEETING. 
 
 413 
 
 to find out, unless by an instinct of self-assertion and 
 controversy ; and it was not until the whole com- 
 munity was in commotion, and a serious secession 
 threatened, that the London Committee came to its 
 senses. Just at the moment when it was about do so, 
 at the Anniversary Meeting held in May 1827, Irving 
 made his appearance in the place of meeting. His en- 
 trance created a commotion which interrupted the 
 business — the general public, apparently, having by this 
 time come to understand that this man could not be 
 regarded with calm impartiality, but must either be 
 loved or hated. The tumult raised on his appearance 
 naturally aroused the orator to assert himself, and, in- 
 dependently of the timid authority of the chair, to make 
 himself heard. It is difficult, in the vague account 
 given, to find out what “motion” it was that Irving 
 supported, or what was accomphshed by the forgotten 
 assembly, whose cheers and hisses would have long 
 ago passed into oblivion, but for the presence of 
 that unusual champion. With a straightforward man- 
 fulness and simphcity which look quaint and out of 
 place upon such a platform, and which must have been 
 wonderfully confusing to the minds of the Society, he 
 advises them to “ acknowledge that they are exceedingly 
 sorry.” And when this suggestion is received with 
 mingled hisses and applause, he indignantly asks, “Is 
 there any member of the Church of England — is there 
 any consistent Protestant Dissenter — who would think it 
 at all degrading to him to acknowledge himself in error 
 when he felt he was so, and when so doing would heal 
 the wounds which had been inflicted thereby, and so 
 unite a whole Christian Church to the Society ? Would 
 
414 
 
 A MOMENT OF DEPEESSION. 
 
 it be at all degrading to the Committee to say that it was 
 sorry that that which is not the Word of God had been 
 (say unwittingly, or unwarily, I mind not the word) 
 mixed up and circulated with the Book of God ? Let 
 them, I say, record that which they have individually 
 expressed by word of mouth — that that which is not 
 the Bread of Life has been sent out to the world as 
 the Bread of Life, and that they are sorry!” The answer 
 which the Bible Society or its Committee gave to this 
 appeal is not recorded. But Irving triumphantly over- 
 came the opposition against his own appearance, and 
 retired from the meeting, which he did immediately 
 after his speech, amid universal applause. 
 
 In the meantime, his private family story went on, 
 amid the clouds which, having once descended, so often 
 continue to overshadow the early history of a household. 
 In the same spring, another infant, a short-hved httle 
 Mary, came to a house saddened by the long and serious 
 iUness of the mother. In the depression occasioned by 
 this interruption of domestic comfort, Irving writes, in 
 a mood certainly not habitual, but from which such a 
 temperament as his can never be severed : 
 
 For myself, I feebthe burden of sin so heavily, and the 
 unprofitableness of thisNexed life, that I long to be delivered 
 from it, and would gladly depart when the Lord may please : 
 yet, while He pleaseth, I am glad to remain for His Church’s 
 sake. What I feel for myself, I feel for my dear wife, whom 
 I love as myself. And at present my rejoicing is, that she is 
 able to praise Him in the furnace of trial and the fire of 
 affliction.” 
 
 In another and brighter mood, however, he writes 
 the following letter, full of projects, to Dr. Martin : — 
 
PKOJECTS FOR THE FUTURE. 
 
 415 
 
 “ 8tli June, 1827. 
 
 My dear Father, — We have all great reason of thankful- 
 ness to the Griver of all gifts, and the Fountain of all strength, 
 for the recovery of Isabella and the children, whose health is 
 now so far re-established, as that Dr. Darling recommends 
 her going to the country in a few days. I am now fairly 
 entered upon my duties in the new church, and, by the grace 
 of Grod, have begun with a more severe self-devotion to secret 
 study and meditation. In the morning I propose to expound 
 the whole Epistle to the Ephesians, in order to clear out anew 
 some of the wells of salvation which have been choked up, at 
 least in these parts, and to see if there be not even deeper 
 springs than the Eeformers reached. In the evening I am to 
 discourse upon the sixth vial, which I propose as a sequel to 
 my discourses upon Babylon and Infidelity Foredoomed, and 
 which I intend to print in the fall of the year. I think that, 
 by God’s blessing, I can throw a new and steady light upon 
 the present face of Christendom and the world. Besides this, 
 I have a little tribute of friendship to pay to Basil Montagu 
 .... and an aphoristic history of the Church of Scotland, 
 from the primitive times to this time, for an introduction to 
 a work containing the republication of our authorised books 
 at the Eeformation. It is for man to design, but God to per- 
 mit and to enable ; yet, if He spare me, I hope to do His 
 Church some service. I ask your prayers, and entreat solici- 
 tously for them ; although I know that we must have the 
 spirit of prayer in ourselves and for ourselves. Farewell ; 
 may the Lord make the going down of your age more brilliant 
 than the beginning of it, and enrich you all with His divine 
 grace, and enlighten you with His countenance. Amen. 
 
 ‘‘ Your affectionate son, 
 ‘‘Edward Irving.” 
 
 The little Mary died in December of the same year. 
 Though the second blow does not seem to have struck 
 like the first, it deepened the channel of those personal 
 tears first wrung from Irving’s eyes by the death of his 
 httle Edward ; and quickened into pathetic adoration 
 his thankfulness for the almost revelation, as he 
 
416 
 
 LECTUEES ON BAPTISM. 
 
 believed it, which had thrown light upon that doctrine 
 of Baptism, henceforth to be held as one of the brightest, 
 comforting inspirations of his life. The volume of 
 Lectures on Baptism^ in which he set before the Church 
 the views which had been so consolatory to his own heart, 
 was prefaced by the following touching dedication : 
 
 To Isabella Irving, my wife, and the mother of my two 
 departed children. 
 
 “My honoured and beloved Wife, — I believe in my heart 
 that the doctrine of the holy Sacraments, which is contained 
 in these two little volumes, was made known to my mind, 
 first of all, for the purpose of preparing us for the loss of our 
 eldest boy ; because on that very week you went with him to 
 Scotland, whence he never returned, my mind was directed 
 to meditate and preach these discourses upon the standing 
 of the baptized in the Church, which form the sixth and 
 seventh of the Homilies on Baptism. I believe it also, be- 
 cause, long before our little Edward was stricken by the hand 
 of Grod in Scotland, I was led to open these views to you in 
 letters, which, by Grod’s grace, were made efficacious to con- 
 vince your mind. I believe it, furthermore, because the 
 thought contained in these homilies remained in my mind 
 like an unsprung seed, until it was watered by the common 
 tears we shed over our dying Mary. From that time forth I 
 felt that the truth concerning baptism, which had been re- 
 vealed for our special consolation, was not for that end given, 
 nor for that end to be retained ; and therefore I resolved, at 
 every risk, to open to all the fathers and mothers of the 
 Christian Church the thoughts which had ministered to us so 
 much consolation. 
 
 “ I desire most gratefully to acknowledge my obligations to 
 the fathers of the Scottish Church, whose Confession of Faith 
 concerning the Sacraments, and especially the sentence 
 which I have placed as the motto * of this book, were, under 
 
 * The motto of the book is as follows : — “ We utterly condemn 
 the vanity of those who affirm sacraments to be nothing but naked 
 and bare signs .” — Confession of Scotch Reformers. 
 
SEED-TIME. 
 
 417 
 
 God, made instrumental in opening to me the whole truth of 
 Holy Scripture concerning Baptism and the Lord’s Supper ; 
 of which having been convinced,- by God’s blessing upon 
 these words of my fathers in the Church, upon consulting the 
 venerable companion of my early studies, Eichard Hooker, I 
 found such a masterly treatise upon the whole subject of the 
 Sacraments, that I scrupled not to rank as one of his disciples, 
 and to prefer his exposition infinitely to my own : yet to both 
 to prefer that sentence of our own Confession which I have 
 placed as the motto of my book. For this reason it is that I 
 have reprinted those parts of Hooker’s treatise which concern 
 the doctrine of the Sacraments. 
 
 “ And now, my dear wife, as we have been sorely tried of 
 the Lord, by the removal of two such sweet children, let us 
 be full of prayers and fellow-feeling for those who are in like 
 manner tried ; and, above all, be diligent in waiting upon those 
 children of Christian Baptism, whom Christ hath committed 
 to my charge as a bishop and shepherd of His flock ; unto 
 all whom, even as many as by my hands have been admitted 
 into His Church, I do now bestow my fatherly benediction in 
 the Lord. May the Lord make you the mother of many 
 children to glorify His name for ever and ever ! This is the 
 prayer of your loving husband, 
 
 “ Edward Irving.” 
 
 The volumes thus inscribed were not pubhshed till 
 1828 ; but they belong to this period of much quiet, 
 but many emotions, which lay between the death of his 
 two children. He laboured much, and pondered more, 
 during these two years. They were the seed-time of a 
 great and melancholy harvest ; and, containing, as they 
 did, the first germs of those convictions which he after- 
 wards carried so far, and the adjuncts "of which carried 
 him still farther, they are full of interest in the history 
 of his life. The Albury conference, which drew him 
 into the close and exciting intercourse of a brotherhood 
 engrossed with hopes and expectations unshared by the 
 
 VOL. I. EE. 
 
418 
 
 ORDINATIO]^ CHARGE. 
 
 common world, and the opening of his church, which 
 brought him suddenly out of the brilliant, indefinite 
 world of possibility into a certain position, restricted by 
 visible limits of the real, were, perhaps, equally ope- 
 rative in preparing his mind for all that dawned upon 
 it. What that was, and how it began to develop, may 
 be better treated in another chapter. 
 
 One of the most noble pieces of oratory which 
 Irving ever produced, — the Ordination Charge^ which 
 reads like an ode of the most thrilhng and splendid 
 music, — was dehvered in this spring at the ordination 
 of the Eev. Hugh Maclean to the charge of the Scots 
 church, London Wall. It is a kind of satisfaction to 
 know that the man so magnificently addressed — in a 
 strain to which perhaps no Scotch minister, and few 
 priests of any description, have ever been called to 
 listen — had soul enough to follow the leader, who 
 charged him to his duty as one hero might another, out 
 into the conflicts and troubles of his after-fife. Such 
 an appeal must have thrilled to the heart of any man 
 capable of being moved to high emotions. I am not 
 aware that any similar ode has ever embellished the 
 ordination service of any other church than that which 
 Irving here describes as ‘‘ the most severe and uncom- 
 promising ” of all Christian churches. It is an unrivalled 
 outburst, full of all the lyric varieties and harmonies of 
 a great poem, and must have fallen with startling efiect 
 upon the commonplace ears of a quiet company of 
 ministers, no man among whom, except the speaker, 
 had ever distinguished himself, or had a chance of dis- 
 tinguishing himself. Such an address might have given 
 a climax to the vocation of a heaven-born preacher ; 
 
VAUGHAN OF LEICESTER. 
 
 419 
 
 but it is only the genius capable of being roused to the 
 utmost by such an appeal that is ever able to offer it ; 
 and the heroic strain called forth no answering wonder. 
 But the young preacher to whom it was addressed 
 threw his humble fortunes, in after days, into the same 
 lot as that of his instructor in the office of the ministry ; 
 and one feels a certain comfort in knowing that the dis- 
 ciple was faithful to the master who had connected his 
 unknown name with an address which inferred such 
 noble quahties in him who could receive it. 
 
 Later in the year, Irving made a short visit to Leices- 
 ter, to see his friend Mr, Vaughan, with whom, and 
 with ‘‘ some other ministers of the Church of England 
 there,” we hear that ‘‘ he had some delightful inter- 
 course.” “ He was expressing to me yesterday,” writes 
 Wilham Hamilton, “ how much he had been gratified 
 by the harmony which prevailed, and the exact coin- 
 cidence of their views on almost all the important 
 points which they discussed.” The same writer goes on 
 to tell how Irving had visited with him the families 
 under his own charge as an elder, and of ‘‘ the cordial 
 reception they everywhere met with.” ‘‘ Mr. Irving is 
 very happy and successful on these occasions,” writes 
 his admiring friend, “ and it is very delightful to see 
 such harmony and good feehng amongst the members.” 
 Thus, undeterred by the many absorbing subjects of 
 thought which were rising to his mind — by the en- 
 grossing prophetical studies which Hr. Chalmers feared 
 would ‘‘ unship him altogether ” — or even by the impa- 
 tience and almost disgust which often assailed his own 
 spirit in sight of the indifferent and unimpressible world, 
 he pursued all the varieties of his immediate duty, 
 
420 ‘‘ THE LIGHT THAT NEVER WAS ON SEA OR SHORE.” 
 
 carrying through it all a certain elevation’ and lofty 
 tone which never interfered with the human loving- 
 kindness in which all his brethren had a share. Not- 
 withstanding his unsparing condemnation of evil and 
 worldliness, Irving had so much of the ‘‘ celestial hght ” 
 in his eyes, that he unconsciously assigned to everybody 
 lie addressed a standing-ground in some degree equal 
 to his own. The “ vision splendid ” attended him not 
 only through his morning course, but throughout all 
 his career. The hght around him never faded into the 
 light of common day. Unawares he addressed the 
 ordinary individuals about him as if they, too, were 
 heroes and princes ; — charged the astounded yet loyal- 
 hearted preacher, who could but preach, and visit, and 
 do the other quiet duties of an ordinary minister, to be 
 at once an apostle, a gentleman, and a scholar ; — made 
 poor, astonished women, in tiny London apartments, feel 
 themselves ladies in the hght of his courtesy ; — and un- 
 consciously elevated every man he talked with into the 
 ideal man he ought to have been. This glamour in his 
 eyes had other effects, melancholy enough to contem- 
 plate ; but even though it procured him trouble and 
 suffering, I cannot find it in my heart to grudge Irving 
 a gift so noble. The harm that comes by such means 
 is neutrahsed by a power of conferring dignity and 
 happiness, possessed by very few in the common world. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 PKINTED Br SPOl'TlSWOODB AMD CO., MJCW-S'IBBKT SQUAKB, LONDON