to follow him fearlessly along the way on which alone Heaven’s favour rested,—they committed themselves to his guidance with a contagious enthusiasm. Herzog raises the cry that has been raised ever since in every land, that Darbyism robbed the pastors of the élite of their flocks; and, though the expression is too general, there is a great deal of truth in it. The fact suffices to show that there had been in Vaud a much greater need of a powerful spiritual impulse than Herzog would allow; and also that Darby, at least to a considerable extent, supplied the want.
This is perhaps only the more evident from the fact that there were conspicuous flaws in the way in which the early meetings of the Brethren were conducted. Olivier, who had watched the experiment for a long time at Lausanne, charged the worship with vagueness and uncertainty; complained of “frequent, prolonged, freezing pauses”; of a “want of Christian dignity in the attitude” of the worshippers, and “especially in the observance of the Lord’s Supper”; of a lack of teaching, owing in part to a scruple about preparing beforehand—a scruple that gave rise, in Olivier’s opinion, to “discourses deficient in compass, offending either by a defect in ripeness and fulness, or by a constant and extremely wearisome recurrence of favourite ideas”. He considered (as many perfectly friendly observers have done since) that the meetings of the Brethren, in order to be profitable, generally required the presence of some persons of commanding superiority. Darby, in reply, did not deny these blemishes; indeed he seems to allow that there was truth in the allegations. But he refused to attach much weight to them, and the refusal may be justified. Flaws are pardonable in a new experiment. Of course the great question stood over,—Would the flaws prove permanent?
