ened and terrified his auditors, and occasionally threw some of them into fits. There was something singular in his whole appearance; while Whitfield, on the contrary, preserved the usual dress of English clergymen. The wandering life of Wesley is a romance of itself. He had a strong taste for fine landscape scenery, and the spots which he selected for the delivery of his sermons, were often remarkable for a degree of beauty and grandeur, which served to heighten the illusions of his prophetic elocution. In his journal, he himself describes very poetically the effect of the hills and woods, luxuriant vales, and barren, rocky coasts, which alternately formed his temple, or, as Southey says, his theatre.

The energetic language in which he occasionally appealed to his audience, while it was addressed to all his hearers collectively, seemed to apply individually to each. Those to whom Massillon addressed his famous apostrophe, in his sermon on the few elect, must have returned home overcome with pious sorrow: but it would appear, that Wesley's auditors, instead of returning to their homes, abandoned their relatives and friends, to follow him. I can very well conceive, that his forcible eloquence must have operated with a sort of magnetic power.

The miracles of methodism have, no doubt, awakened the vigilance of the clergy of the church of England; but neither the established church, nor any of the dissenting sects, have hitherto produced such powerful preachers as Wesley and

Whitfield. In spite of the exaggerated and decla matory tone, which has become so fashionable in literature, the inhabitants of London remain satisfied with preachers, whose reputation seldom extends beyond the limits of their respective flocks. Lately, indeed, there has risen up one who has made a noise, and who seems likely to fix the public attention for a considerable time. I very much fear, however, that Mr. Irving is calculated only to make a noise. He is a presbyterian preacher, who has recently come from Scotland, exclaiming, like Jonas, that Nineveh had offended the Lord. But, preferring a literary to a popular success, the Scottish Jonas addresses himself to the great characters of the day. Statesmen, poets, philosophers, all in their turn, come under the lash of his animadversions, and the Caledonian chapel is alternately a tribunal and an athenæum. Mr. Irving has frequently surprised his hearers, by mingling passages from Shakspeare with quotations from the Bible. The Poet Laureate and Lord Byron have both been summoned before this ecclesiastical tribunal; the one, as a profane flatterer of worldly power, the other as an impious Goliah, against whom the sling of David still kept a stone in reserve. The erotic school of Thomas Moore has been denounced as a sect of worshippers of the Cyprian goddess. Princes of the blood, ministers of state, men of fashion, orators, and authors, crowd together to hear themselves apostrophised by this missionary, who looks very much as if he had escaped, like

Macbriar, from the massacre of Bothwell Bridge. Only imagine the effect of a denunciatory harangue, issuing from the sonorous lungs of a puritanical Sampson (for Mr. Irving is more than six feet high), and accompanied by the threatening action of an arm vigorous enough, like that of the son of Manuel, to shake the columns of the temple. His style of oratory is unequal, and is characterised by sudden bursts of expression. His exaggeration and emphasis appear natural, accompanied, as they are, by physical energy, and the tremendous expression of his countenance. Mr. Irving has produced effect; yet he has gained no proselytes. He is a fashionable preacher, but not an edifying one. He has laid himself open to the censure of the reviews, by mingling profane with sacred literature; and critical analysis has reduced his discourses to incorrect and tedious circumlocutions, sharpened by satire or menace. A few bursts of sublimity occasionally reveal the talent of Irving; but he instantly compromises his dignity by trivial allusions. His enthusiasm partakes of the artifice of a rhetorician; his delivery is that of an actor, rather than a Peter the hermit. He certainly will not form a sect, and he will lose all his popularity, when the temporary astonishment he has excited wears away.

At the same time, it would be no difficult matter to justify Mr. Irving's panegyrists by quotations. A selection of fragments from his discourses would give a high idea of his talent for narrative, description, &c. He might often be advantage

ously opposed to Bishop Taylor, if it were not forbidden, in the nineteenth century, to combine the defects of Taylor with his beauties.

LETTER XLVIII.

TO M. DUMONT.

THE eloquence of the bar, to which I now wish to call your attention, is connected with so many political questions, that I cannot do better than commence by a few considerations on the English constitution. I propose to devote several of my letters exclusively to the subject of public speaking, and I shall necessarily enter into details respecting the houses of parliament and popular meetings. Sincerely attached as I am to representative government, I shall endeavour not to suffer myself to be blind to the vices of that system, which a philosopher would be inclined to call the least bad, rather than the best. I shall, above all, avoid making a Utopia of the English gọvernment, like the host of writers who are justly reproached for having allowed themselves to be seduced by words, before having penetrated into the secret of things.

In England, time has happily consecrated two

invaluable privileges of the people, namely, the liberty of the press (which cannot here be capriciously suppressed by an ordinance,) and individual liberty. There is in England a routine of constitutional manners, if I may so express myself, which we want in France; but it is necessary to be on one's guard against that species of political quackery, which would tend to persuade the English people that they are as happy as they can be, and that they have a right to look upon the inhabitants of the other states of Europe, as mere flocks of slaves. Though our characteristic impatience occasionally incense us against power, we must not suffer our dignity to be insulted by the arrogance of foreigners. However, English writers, ministerial as well as political, occasionally let certain confessions escape them, which are calculated to render us better satisfied with our lot. It is curious to observe how our calumniators in the reviews sometimes refute themselves. I have also met with several candid Englishmen, whose conversation has afforded me an insight into the real state of their country. If the Quarterly and Edinburgh Reviews should do me the honour to take offence at these remarks, you will help me to prove that my arguments are at least founded on impartial authorities.*

I shall venture to refute a few chapters of the romance which Madame de Staël has attached to the

* The reader will perceive that this letter is merely a fragment. I have thrown into some of my subsequent letters, a few considerations on English patriotism and political reform