The character and career of Edward Irving present a strange series of incongruities. He was born in Scotland in 1792; he became a preacher, and acquired speedy notoriety, as much by his peculiarities as his merits. He attracted the attention of Dr. Chalmers, and through his influence was for a time assistant-minister in the parish of St. John's, at Glasgow. From this place he was called to the Caledonian Chapel, where I heard him. His fame continued to increase; and having published a volume of discourses, under the quaint title, For the Oracles of God, four Orations: for Judgment to come, an Argument in Nine Parts: three large editions of the work were sold in the space of six months. Wherever he preached crowds of eager listeners flocked to hear him. His eccentricities increased with his fame. He drew out his discourses to an enormous length, and on several occasions protracted the services to four hours! He soon became mystical, and took to studying unfulfilled prophecy as the true key to the interpretation of the Scriptures. From this extravagance he passed to the doctrine that Christians, by the power of faith, can attain to the working of miracles, and speaking with unknown tongues, as in the primitive ages. Such at last were his vagaries, that he was cut off from communion with the Scottish Church; in consequence, he became the founder of a sect which continues to the present time in England, bearing the title of "Irvingites." Worn out with anxiety and incessant labors, he died at Glasgow, while on a journey for his health, in 1834, at the early age of forty-two.
One more event I must notice—the arrival in London of the remains of Lord Byron, and their lying in state previous to interment. His body had been preserved in spirits, and was thus brought from Greece, attended by five persons of his lordship's suite. Having been transferred to the coffin, it lay in state at the house of Sir Edward Knatchbull, where such were the crowds that rushed to behold the spectacle, that it was necessary to defend the coffin with a stout wooden railing. When I arrived at the place the lid was closed. I was told, however, that the countenance, though the finer lines had collapsed, was so little changed as to be easily recognised by his acquaintances. The general muscular form of the body was perfectly preserved.
The aspect of the scene, even as I witnessed it, was altogether very impressive. The coffin was covered with a pall, enriched by escutcheons wrought in gold. On the top was a lid, set round with black plumes. Upon it were these words,—
"GEORGE GORDON NOEL BYRON.
Born in London, 22d January, 1788.
Died at Missolonghi, April 19th, 1824."
At the head of the coffin was an urn containing the ashes of his brain and heart: this being also covered with a rich pall, wrought with figures in gold. The windows were closed, and the darkened room was feebly illumined by numerous wax tapers.
And this was all that remained of Byron! What a lesson upon the pride of genius, the vanity of rank, the fatuity of fame,—all levelled in the dust, and, despite the garnished pall and magnificent coffin, their possessor bound to pass through the same process of corruption as the body of a common beggar!