and ladies of fashion, might be seen mingled pell-mell with shopkeepers and mechanics, all sweeping across the open court, so that the church was filled in a twinkling; while disappointed hundreds pressed towards the porch, and clustered like bees round the open windows, to catch the swelling tones of the
speaker, even if his words should be inaudible. It was a sudden growth was
it to pass away as suddenly? When mere curiosity is thus agog, the only
question is, with how many trials will it rest satisfied?
We must now turn to the object of this dangerous experiment, to Mr. Irving himself. Even at his earliest entrance into Glasgow he had shown that he was no ordinary man. But he had done more, for he had shown his determination not to be confounded with ordinary mortals. Even his conversation, therefore, as well as his style of preaching, was evidently with the aim to astonish; and he was not satisfied with a striking idea unless it was also arrayed in striking language. And this aim, so faulty in a common orator, but absolutely sinful in a preacher, instead of being repressed, was nourished into full growth in London, amidst the hot atmosphere of his new popularity; so that his pulpit style assumed a luxuriance and rankness such as no oratory of the day could parallel. It was the language of the sixteenth century engrafted upon the nineteenth; the usages, the objects, and the wants of the present day embodied in the phraseology of a long-departed style of life. The same aiming at singularity was perceptible in his attitudes, which disdained the simple rules of elocution; in his dress, which imitated the primness of the ancient Puritans; and even his dark shaggy locks, which he kept unpruned until they rivalled the lion's mane, and from which he was wont to shake warnings of most ominous significance. He had gone to London with the determination of being noticed, admired, and wondered at; and all this was but the fulfilment of his purpose. Gladly, however, we reverse the picture. In the first place, this outre manner, which would have sat so ludicrously upon any ordinary man, was in him so set off by his appearance, that, while the many delighted in it as something rich and new, the fastidious and the critical suspected that after all it was nothing more than the true natural expression of such a singular personage. In this way even the susquepedalian words and rolling sentences of his oratory were in full keeping with the deep thunder of his voice and majestic swing of his arm; while the most startling of his assertions were enforced by the singular squint of one of his eyes, that rivetted the attention with a sort of mesmeric power. But better far than all this, there was a fertility and richness of mind in Mr. Irving that would have made him remarkable under any circumstances; so that, while he imitated the ancient masters of England in his quaint phraseology, and stern abrupt simplicity, he resembled them in the more valuable qualities of profound thought, vivid imagination, and fearless uncompromising honesty as a preacher of the word. It was evident, in short, that while he wished to be an Elijah the Tishbite or John the Baptist, he was also animated by their righteous intrepidity, that would utter the most unpalatable truths, let them be received as they might. But was a crowded gay metropolis, instead of the wilderness, a fit place for such a John or Elijah? We shall soon see.
Hitherto Mr. Irving had not been known as an author, his only production from the press, which he acknowledged, being a farewell discourse to the congregation of St. John's, at his departure to London. He was now, however, to give the public an opportunity of testing his powers, and ascertaining whether the popularity that crowned him had been justly bestowed. He had scarcely
