From Manchester to Liverpool, he was accompanied by Francis Okeley. Okeley writes: “during our stay in Liverpool, which was ten days, Mr. Wesley preached morning and evening, to crowded auditories, consisting of all sorts. There is here a large, commodious room, built for the use of the Methodists, but not quite finished.” He proceeds to tell how they dined at the house “of one Mr. Newton,” little thinking, that the same Mr. Newton would develop into the renowned John Newton, curate of Olney.[329] One of the Liverpool Methodists, at this period, was an old woman, who lived upon Wavertree Green, and was known by the name of “Dame Cross.” To obtain a livelihood, she kept a school, but was extremely poor. She was a staunch churchwoman; and had a high veneration for gowns and cassocks, and for those who wore them; but was withal a happy and devoted Christian. One day, John Newton called upon her, and finding her surrounded by a flock of fowls, he asked, “Dame Cross, are these fowls yours?” “Not one of them,” the octogenarian answered, “they are all my neighbours’; but I save all my crumbs and scraps for them; for I love to feed them, for the sake of Him who made them.”[330]
On March 28, Wesley set sail for Dublin. When about eight miles from Liverpool, a boat overtook them, bringing him letters from London. Some of these earnestly pressed him to return to the metropolis, but, while consulting his travelling companions, the wind changed, and the boat left, and he had no choice but to proceed to Ireland. He arrived in Dublin on March 31.
Here he spent nearly a month. He found, to his great annoyance, that the five o’clock morning preaching had been discontinued; and that self denial, among the Dublin Methodists, had been a thing almost utterly unknown since Thomas Walsh had left the island. Rigorous discipline was indispensable, for the Irish “people in general were so soft and delicate, that the least slackness” was ruinous. He preached to an unstable people on the character of Reuben. He held a covenant service; and set apart a day for fasting and for prayer. He “met all the married men and women of the society, and brought strange things to their ears respecting the duties of husbands, and wives, and parents.”
Francis Okeley, Wesley’s present travelling companion, was fifteen years his junior, and, like himself, had been educated in the Charterhouse school, London. In 1739, he became B.A. of St. John’s college, Cambridge; and was the intimate friend of the two Wesleys and their associates. His intention had been to become a minister of the Church of England; but, because the Moravians had ordained him deacon, the bishop refused to ordain him priest; and, to the end of life, he officiated in the Brethren’s congregations. He was now Moravian minister at Bedford; but kept Wesley company during the whole of his Irish tour, and even went with him to his conference, at Bristol, in the month of August following.[331] To some extent, he was infected with the Moravian lusciousness then so common; but he was also a man of much learning, of great piety, and of a catholic and Christian spirit. He was well versed in the old German divinity,—was an immense admirer of William Law,—the translator of the life of Jacob Behmen, and the visions of Hiel and Englebretet,—and a strong advocate of the doctrine of universal restoration. He was a frequent and valued correspondent of the Gentleman’s Magazine, and the author of other works besides the above mentioned. He died, at Bedford, in 1794.[332]
On April 24, Wesley and Okeley left Dublin, on an excursion through the Irish provinces. At Edinderry, Wesley preached, under the castle wall, to a large congregation, which some of the quakers had used their utmost influence to prevent assembling. At Portarlington, he “was much concerned for his rich, gay hearers.” At Mountmellick, most of the protestants of the town were present, and many papists also skirted the congregation. Bitter contentions, however, had well-nigh torn the society in pieces. At Tullamore, a large number of protestants, many papists, and almost all the troopers in the town attended. At Drumcree, he opened a new chapel, “built in the taste of the country; the roof thatch, and the walls mud.” At Terryhugan, he found a room built purposely for him and his itinerants, “three yards long, two and a quarter broad, and six feet high; the walls, floor, and ceiling mud; and the furniture a clean chaff bed;” but even in this mud-built hut, he found it true,—
“Licet sub paupere tecto
Reges et regum vitâ præcurrere amicos.”
All the inhabitants of the village, with many others, were present at the morning five o’clock preaching, including a poor woman, brought to bed ten days before, and who walked seven miles, with her child in her arms, to have it baptized by Wesley. At Newtown, he addressed the largest congregation he had seen since he came to Ireland. At Belfast, he preached in the market-house; and at Carrickfergus in the courthouse. At Larn, his pulpit was a table, and his congregation nearly all the inhabitants of the town, both rich and poor. At Lurgan, he was taken to see the house which an eminent scholar had recently erected for himself,—“part mud, part brick, part stone, and part bones and wood; with four windows, but without glass in any; of two storeys, but without a staircase; on the floor three rooms,—one three square, the second with five sides, and the third with more.” “I give,” says Wesley, “a particular description of this wonderful edifice, to illustrate the truth—There is no folly too great even for a man of sense, if he resolves to follow his own imagination.”
At Coot Hill, he had “a tolerably serious congregation in the open street.” At Granard, he preached in the barrack yard. At Edgeworthtown, his congregation was genteel; but at Longford, where he preached in the yard of the great inn, “the rudest, surliest, wildest people” he had seen in Ireland. At Newport, all the protestants of the town attended. At Hollymount, the churchyard served him as a preaching place. At Minulla, he found the papists unchanged,—retaining the same bitterness and thirst for blood as ever, and as ready to cut the throats of protestants as they were in the former century. He left the place at four o’clock in the morning, riding a horse without either bridle or saddle. At Ahaskra, four fifths of his congregation were papists. At Athlone, a few eggs and stones were thrown. At Coolylough, he held the quarterly meeting. At Limerick, he met Thomas Walsh, “alive, and but just alive,” three of the best physicians attending him, and all agreeing that, “by violent straining of his voice, added to frequent colds, he had contracted a pulmonary consumption, which was now in the last stage, and consequently beyond the reach of any human help.” Here Wesley held his Irish conference, fourteen preachers being present.
At Clare, his congregation in the street consisted of “many poor papists and rich protestants.” At Ennis, “nine in ten” of those who came to hear him were papists. In an island near Limerick, he preached to thousands seated on the grass, row above row. Here he overstrained himself, and next morning began spitting blood, and, for a week, was laid aside. Rest, however, and “a brimstone plaster, and a linctus of roasted lemon and honey,” so far restored him, that, in a week, he resumed his ministry at Cork, and interred James Massiot.