while each was the subject of discussions innumerable, both in conversation and
print. And yet, with all this, one fact was incontestable, which was, that he
was the most eloquent and original preacher in London, and this even his
maligners were compelled to confess. But, unfortunately, a fault was growing upon him for which no human eloquence can atone. He was now becoming prolix—prolix to a degree which no mortal patience, in modern life, at least, can well endure. It was not unusual with him to give an opening prayer of an hour long, and follow it by a sermon that took at least two hours in the delivery. This, too, was not only in the earlier part of the day, but in the evening also. It was a trial which mere hunters in quest of pulpit popularity could not sustain, and therefore the crowd melted away, and left him in undisturbed possession of his own regular auditory. And even they, too, much as they admired and loved him, were growing restive at services by which their attention was worn out and their domestic arrangements subverted. But this Mr. Irving could not understand; with him it was enough that what he felt it his duty to preach, it was the duty of his people to hear. The tide had reached its height, and the ebb was commencing. Such was the state of matters when he was invited to preach the anniversary sermon of the London Missionary Society, in May, 1824. He complied, and on the 14th he preached in Tottenham Court Chapel, on Mat. x. 5-42. He was still, with every drawback, by far the most popular preacher in London; so that, notwithstanding a heavy continued rain, the spacious building was filled at an early hour. But on this occasion he outdid even his wonted prolixity. Twice he was obliged to rest in the delivery of his almost interminable sermon, during which the congregation sang a few verses of a hymn; and when it was published it occupied 130 large and closely-printed pages, while the dedication and preface bulked the volume into thirty pages more.
But faults more serious than that of lengthiness pervaded this unfortunate discourse, and made Mr. Irving's best friends wish that it had been unpublished, and even unpreached. It was his practice, like other men of ardent minds, to see too exclusively, and condemn too unsparingly, whatever error he detected; and the exaggerated language which he used on such occasions was more fitted to irritate than persuade. Such was his fault in the present instance. He thought there was too much secularity and self-seeking in the management of missions, and was impatient to announce the fact, and point out a better mode of action; but, wound up exclusively in this one idea, his discourse looked too much like a violent condemnation of all modern missionary enterprise what- ever. After having sorely handled the missionary directors, and the missionaries themselves, as if they had been mere hucksters of religious truth, and sordid speculators, who thought of nothing pertaining to the sanctuary but its shekels, he proceeded to propound the remedy. And this was tenfold more extravagant than his exposure of the offence. All money provision for missions was to be foregone, and all prudential considerations in their management given to the winds. Missionaries were to be considered as the veritable successors of the seventy, and, like them, therefore, were to be sent forth without money and without scrip. It was enough for them that they were to be wafted to their destination, and thrown upon its shores, after which they were to go forward, nothing doubting. The world had been thus converted already, and thus it would be converted again. He forgot that the seventy were sent on this occasion, not into heathen and savage countries, but to the towns and villages of
