CHAPTER XVII. WHITEFIELD IN IRELAND. 66 His WHITEFIELD'S Connexion with Ireland was too slight to impress any character upon the religion of the country, or even to give an impulse to it. His preaching won souls; but it set in motion no evangelizing enterprise, except the itineracy of the celebrated John Cennick, who obtained for the methodists in Ireland the nick-name of swaddlers, by a Christmas sermon. text was, "Ye shall find the babe, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger." A catholic who was present, and to whom the language of Scripture was a novelty, says Dr. Southey, thought this so ludicrous, that he called the preacher a swaddler, in derision; and this unmeaning word became the nickname of the methodists, and had all the effect of the most opprobrious appellation." It had indeed! When persecution arose against the Wesleys and their adherents, the watchword of the mob was, "Five pounds for a swaddler's head!" "Anti-swaddlers" was a name chosen for themselves, by the popish party, and even avowed by them at the trial of the rioters. A public notice was posted up at the Exchange, with the writer's name affixed to it, in which he offered to head any mob that would pull down any house that should harbour a swaddler. And houses were demolished, and much furniture destroyed. Nor was this all. In Cork, Butler's mob fell upon men and women, old and young, with clubs and swords, and beat and wounded them in a dreadful manner. Even the mayor told one of the complainants, whose house was beset and about to be pulled down, that if he would not "turn the preachers out," he must take whatever he might get. The sheriff also sent a poor woman to Bridewell, for expressing regret at seeing the vagabond ballad-singer, Butler, going about in the dress of a clergyman, with the Bible in one hand, and ballads in the other. Moore's Life of Wesley. Mr. Wesley himself describes, what he calls, "Cork persecution," thus ;—" breaking the houses of his Majesty's protestant subjects, destroying their goods, spoiling or tearing the very clothes from their backs; striking, bruising, wounding, murdering them in the streets; dragging them through the mire, without any regard to age or sex; not sparing even those of tender years; no, nor women, though great with child; but, with more than pagan or Turkish barbarity, destroying infants that were yet unborn." These enormities were well nigh over before Whitefield visited Ireland. The higher powers had interfered, when they found that the lower were nearly as low as Butler. Whitefield found the benefit of the shield which Wesley so much needed, and so nobly won. He had, however, preached in Ireland before Wesley visited it; which was in 1747. In 1738, Whitefield touched there, on his return from America, weak and weary, after a tedious and famishing voyage. When he landed from the vessel, "we had," he says, "but half a pint of water left, and my stomach was exceeding weak through long abstinence. Most of us begin to be weak, and look hollow-eyed. My clothes have not been off, except to change, all the passage. Part of the time I lay on open deck, part on a chest, and the remainder on a bedstead covered with my buffalo's skin." He was welcomed at a "strong castle," where, he says, "I asked the servant for water, and she gave me milk, and brought forth butter in a lordly dish. And never-did I make a more comfortable meal!" After resting for a day or two at Kilrush to renew his strength, he went to Limerick, where the bishop, Dr. Burscough, received him with much hospitality and candour. His Lordship requested him to preach in the cathedral on Sunday, and on parting with him kissed him, and said, "Mr. Whitefield, God bless you; I wish you success abroad; had you staid in town, this house should have been your home." This welcome was the more gratifying, because his sermon had agitated the people. In walking about the town next day, "all the inhabitants," he says, "seemed alarmed, and looked most wishfully at me as I passed along." The contrast in his circumstances, also, affected him very deeply. "Good God!" he exclaims, "where was I on Saturday last? In hunger, cold, and thirsting; but now I enjoy fulness of bread, and all things convenient for me. God grant I may not, Jeshurun-like, wax fat, and kick! Perhaps it is more difficult to know how to abound, than how to want." From Limerick he went to Dublin, where he preached twice in the churches; the second time to such a rivetted crowd, that he calls it, "like a London congregation." Here also the bishops were neither afraid nor ashamed of him. The primate of all Ireland invited him to dinner, and told him that he heard of him from Gibraltar. The bishop of Londonderry also was equally kind. Whitefield felt all this deeply, and rejoiced with trembling. "Dearest Jesus," he exclaims, "grant me humility; so shall thy favours not prove my ruin." Such was his first reception in Ireland. His second, in 1751, although upon the whole favourable, was not "like unto it." He was now a field preacher, and just hot from Wales, where he had been preaching twice a day, over a space of 500 miles. He began his labour in Dublin, and found at once large congregations hearing, "as for eternity." In Limerick and Cork, also, his commanding eloquence overawed the old persecutors. The public cry was, "Methodism is revived again;" but it was the signal of welcome, not of war, as formerly. At this time he was both very weak in body, and subject to daily vomiting. During this visit, he preached eighty times, and with great success. "Providence," says he, "has wonderfully prepared my way, and overruled every thing for my greater acceptance. Every where there seems a shaking among the dry bones, and the trembling lamps of God's people have been supplied with fresh oil. The word ran and was glorified." "Hundreds," says Dr. Southey, "prayed for him when he left Cork; and many of the catholics said, that, if he would stay, they would leave their priests." One cause of Whitefield's popularity at this time was, that he meddled not with Irish politics. "He condemned all politics," says Dr. Southey, "as below the children of God:" but why did the Doctor add, "alluding, apparently, to the decided manner in which Wesley always inculcated obedience to government as one of the duties of a christian; making it his boast, that whoever became a good methodist, became at the same time a good subject." Was Whitefield less loyal than Wesley? When? Where? Not in Ireland certainly. I have now before me the letter which justifies the Doctor in hinting that Whitefield "seems to have regarded the conduct of Wesley and his lay-preachers," in Ireland, "with no favourable eye." But why should this be interpreted to mean their politics chiefly, or at all? Dr. Southey quotes from Whitefield, as if he had said that "some dreadful offences had been given" by the Wesleyans; and argues as if they had been political offences. Whitefield himself says, "I find, through the many offences that have lately been given, matters (among the methodists) were brought to a low ebb; but now the cry is, 'Methodism is revived again.' Thanks be to God, that I have an opportunity of showing my disinterestedness, and that I preach not for a party of my own, but for the common interest of my blessed Master. Your Ladyship" (the letter is to Lady Huntingdon) "would smile to see how the wise have been catched in their own craftiness." Now this justifies the hint, that Whitefield seems to have regarded their conduct with no favourable eye." Indeed, it is the severest thing I know of, that he says in connexion with Wesley's name,-for that he meant him, by "the wise caught in their own craftiness," is obvious. It is not "apparent," however, that he alluded to "the decided manner in which Wesley inculcated obedience to government." That, in fact, was not a matter of policy, but of vital principle, with Wesley and Whitefield too. Wesley had, however, lines of policy, which Whitefield was jealous of, and opposed to, not without reason. 66 Whitefield's last visit to Ireland was in 1757, when he nearly lost his life, after preaching at Oxminton Green. This was popish outrage. The church was not unfriendly to him. Indeed, one of the bishops said to a nobleman, who told White field, "I am glad he is come to rouse the people." Even the primate solicited him to "accept of some considerable church preferment, which he declined." De Courcy. "Preferments, honours, ease, he deemed but loss, To him to live was Christ; to die was gain." De Courcy's Elegy. His own narrative of the outrage is as interesting as it is circumstantial." Many attacks have I had from Satan's children, but yesterday you would have thought he had been permitted to give me an effectual parting blow. I had once or twice ventured out to Oxminton Green, a large place like Moorfields, situated very near the barracks, where the Ormond and Liberty boys, that is, the high and low party boys, generally assemble every Sunday, to fight each other. When I was here last, the congregations were very numerous, and the word seemed to come with power, and no noise nor disturbance ensued. This encouraged me to give notice, that I would preach there again. I went through the barracks, the door of which opens into the Green, and pitched my tent near the barrack walls-not doubting of the protection, or at least interposition, of the officers and soldiery, if there should be occasion. But how vain is the help of man! Vast was the multitude that attended. We sang, prayed, and preached without molestation; only now and then a few stones and clods of dirt were thrown at me. "It being war time, I exhorted, as is my usual practice, my hearers, not only to fear God, but to honour the best of kings; and after sermon, I prayed for success to the Prussian arms. All being over, I thought to return home the way I came; but, to my great surprise, access was denied, so that I had to go near half a mile from one end of the Green to the other, through hundreds and hundreds of papists, &c. Finding me unattended, (for a soldier and four methodist preachers, who came with me, had forsook me and fled,) I was left to their mercy. But their mercy, as you may easily guess, was perfect cruelty. Volleys of hard stones came from all quarters, and every step I took a fresh stone made me reel backwards and forwards, till I |