In August, 1747, Wesley went, for the first time, across the Channel to Ireland. He first preached in a church in Dublin to a “gay and senseless” crowd. Other Methodists had been to Dublin before Wesley came, so that he found a “Society” already formed there, and by the members of it he was welcomed. The Archbishop, on the other hand, objected strongly to his preaching. Wesley, therefore, had to proceed in his work without asking his consent. This time he seems to have preached only in Dublin, and after about a fortnight returned to England.
With the exception of these few Methodists, Ireland appears to have been, in those days, a land of utter darkness. Whitefield said—that, so far as he could learn, there was not a single minister in the whole of Ireland, either among churchmen or dissenters, who was faithfully preaching the gospel of Christ. We should, therefore, thank God that He now sent the blessed tidings to those amongst whom He was forgotten and unknown.
In the spring of 1748 we find him at Bristol, on the way to Ireland again, through Wales. Whilst at Bristol, he went with a friend called Mr. Swindells to preach at Shepton. Here the house where he lodged was attacked by a mob almost more violent than any he had yet seen. Finding the door was too strong to be battered in, they threw a ceaseless volley of stones in at every window. They did not know that their leader, who, in his zeal, had followed Wesley into the house, had got locked in. This poor man found himself in a sad predicament. He dared not show himself at the windows, through which huge stones were rattling in every direction, and he could not open the door. He knew not where to go for safety, and thought it best to follow Wesley, as if he were his shadow, for he had a belief that no stone could come near the man he dreaded as much as he hated. But, having followed Wesley to the top of the house, he was hit by a large stone on the forehead, so that the blood streamed over him. “Oh, Sir!” he cried out, “are we to die? What must I do? What must I do?” “Ask God to save you,” said Wesley. The poor man began to pray as he had never before done. Wesley and Mr. Swindells also prayed, asking the Lord to bring them safely out of the house. They then went down stairs and walked out of the back door just as the mob broke in at the front door, which they had at last shattered to pieces. The preachers walked through the garden and escaped unhurt. Wesley then proceeded to Dublin, where Charles was preaching; but, on his arrival, Charles returned to England to preach elsewhere. Mr. Swindells and Mr. Meriton had gone with John to Ireland.
Since John’s first visit to Ireland the Methodists at Dublin had had much to suffer from the Popish mobs. The Irish mobs appear, if possible, to have been more furious and dangerous than those in England. At Dublin they had destroyed the furniture in the chapel, and in the neighboring houses, and made a bonfire of the fragments in the street. They had beaten a woman to death, and killed a number of men, including a constable, who was sent to put down the riot. They hung up the dead body of the constable in triumph. No one had been punished for these murders. Charles Wesley had several times narrowly escaped with his life. The mobs had been urged on by the Roman Catholic priests.
At this time not more than one Irishman in every hundred professed to be a Protestant; nevertheless, many had been converted. The conversion of two Irishmen is a very remarkable story. One of these men, knowing that Charles Wesley was to preach in a barn, had gone in beforehand and crept into a sack close to the door, intending, as soon as the preaching had begun, to open the door to the mob outside; for the Methodists had agreed to lock themselves in, for fear of an attack. The man in the sack, being fond of music, remained quiet whilst the hymn was sung. But something more than the music reached him—it was the voice of God, speaking through the words of the hymn to his conscience. He dared not open the door, but waited to hear the prayer. He now felt himself to be a lost sinner, and, forgetting where he was, he began to pray aloud for mercy, to the astonishment of the congregation, who helped him out of the sack. This man was from that hour a true follower of Christ. The other man, who was also fond of music, had gone to the meeting to hear the singing. He was resolved not to hear the preaching, but to stop his ears as soon as the first hymn was over until the second hymn began. He, therefore, sat, after the hymn, with his head down, and his fingers in his ears. But when God will speak to a soul He can make his voice heard. He can use, too, such means as would appear to us strange and contemptible. As the man sat there a fly lit upon his nose. For a moment he moved his hand to drive it away, and, in so doing, nine words only reached his ear –what were they? “He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.” From that moment this man, who was an ungodly tavern-keeper, had no rest in his soul. He went, afterward, to seek out the Methodists: listened eagerly to the gospel, and became a converted man. Such things had been happening in Ireland between the first and second visits of John Wesley. On this second visit, Wesley preached not only in Dublin, but through the country towns. Ireland was then a wild, dark country. Not only Popery darkened the land, but amongst the country people the old heathen customs still lingered. In the distant parts, and amongst the mountains, it may almost have been called a barbarous country. The wolves still ran wild in the woods; the people lived in mud huts with a hole in the roof for a chimney—they were ignorant as the heathen—ignorant of the things which the children know in an English infant school. They called the Methodists “swaddlers,” because one preacher had told them that the Lord Jesus had been born at Bethlehem, wrapped in swaddling clothes, and laid in a manger. They had never heard of this before, and laughed at it, as if it were a fable. After traveling about Ireland for two months, Wesley returned to England. He had met with but little ill-treatment in Ireland, but had suffered from fever and other complaints, which had prevented his preaching for two days only.
One circumstance worthy of remark is mentioned in Wesley’s journal of July, in this year. He was then at Epworth. “I was quite surprised,” he says, “when I heard Mr. Romley preach. That soft, smooth, tuneful voice, which he so often employed to blaspheme the work of God, was lost, without hope of recovery; all means had been tried, but without effect. He now spoke in a manner shocking to hear, and impossible to be heard distinctly by one quarter of the congregation.” Thus had God Himself stopped the mouth of the enemy.