HISTORY: Dictionary of Dublin Dissent: Dublin's Protestant Dissenting Meeting Houses, 1660-1920By Steven C Smyrl, A&A Farmar, 358pp, €40

WHENEVER CHARLES Wesley, one of the founders of Methodism, visited Ireland, he was horrified by the level of violence on the streets of Dublin. “Woe is me,” he complained in September 1747, referring to the mobs that patrolled the city looking for trouble, frequently attacking the meeting places of Dissenters. A constable was murdered one night, beaten and dragged about until he was dead, and then “hung up in triumph”. No-one was arrested for the crime, despite the fact that, as Wesley noted, “the earth covered his blood”. A week earlier, a woman had been beaten to death by the rabble, and Wesley observed sarcastically that it “was all fair, for she was caught picking a pocket: so there’s an end of her”. Therefore he had little wonder that, “in such a place, there should be no justice for Christians”.

In 1752, a new Methodist chapel was opened in Whitefriar Street, a large building capable of holding about 1,200 people. In June, it was attacked by an angry mob, which attempted to burn it to the ground. Several of the rioters were arrested, but found “Not Guilty” at their trial. John Wesley, like his brother a key founder of Methodism, was in Dublin at this time and, although he criticised the packed jury, he was relieved that the trial seemed to have “struck a terror into their companions”. Indeed he was grateful that he and his friends could now walk unmolested through the principal streets of Dublin.

These are just some of the stories that Steven C Smyrl brings to life in his detailed examination of Protestant dissenting meeting houses in Dublin from the Restoration to the War of Independence. However the book is much more than an account of the problems facing these different congregations over this period. First, it is a history of dissent, throwing light on the contribution of dissenting Protestants – Presbyterian, Methodist, Baptist, Quaker, Huguenot, and more – to the social, political, and cultural life of Dublin, but it is also an extraordinary reconstruction of the evolution of the city, building by building, street by street, as Raymond Gillespie shrewdly notes in his preface.

The book is incredibly rich in detail about some practices now long forgotten. For example, there is the amusing story of John George Frederick Schultze, a Lutheran minister from Germany, who was discharged of his duties for performing illegal marriages. Such a clergyman was known as a “couple-beggar” or “The Tack’em”, and Schultze was immortalised in verse for his habit of asking the correct questions during a wedding ceremony, and then answering them himself.

It is also a study of some extraordinary individuals. In the early 19th century, John Walker resigned his position as an Anglican minister, and established his own assembly, the Church of Christ, which soon became known as the Walkerite sect. However, in 1815, the Dublin congregation split over an infamous kissing controversy. The problem was that Walker took literally St Paul’s frequent injunctions to “Salute one another with a holy kiss”, and would conclude every service with instructions for each member of the congregation to “salute” those sitting beside them in this way. “This practice went on smack-smooth for some time”, but there was “a terrible hubbub” after a newly married woman was kissed enthusiastically by the blacksmith sitting beside her. From that point on there was a split between “the kissers” and “the anti-kissers”. Even in an era of falling church attendances, perhaps some practices are best forgotten.

Patrick M Geoghegan teaches history at Trinity College Dublin and is the presenter of Talking Historyon Newstalk