Kent J. Wesley and the Wesleyans: Religion in Eighteenth-Century Britain
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34 Wesley and the Wesleyans
he was also appealing to these spiritual powers for a shortcut
to holiness, the state in which the individual so empowered
did not commit sin.
This atmosphere was not that of ethical philosophers such
as the Earl of Shaftesbury (1671 –1713) and Francis Hutcheson
(1694–1746), advocates of the idea of a moral sense, nor was
this an ethical attitude with which they sympathised. The
shortcut was unavailable in the universe they described, and
the feeling that with Wesleyanism one is living in a different
culture is increased on turning to the end of this sermon, where
Wesley discussed why and how people who had apparently
reached a state of holiness could ‘backslide’, as it was called,
into undeniable sin, palpable wrongdoing. His final answer
left a disturbing image of God, one which would have a long
evangelical history. ‘God’, said Wesley – and it is important to
remember that he believed he was giving the sense of scripture
and not inventing his own picture of God – ‘does not continue
to act upon the soul unless the soul reacts upon God’ who:
manifests himself unto us ...calls us to himself, and shines upon our
hearts. But if we do not then love him who first loved us, if we will not
harken to his voice ...his Spirit will not always strive;hewillgradually
withdraw, and leaveus to the darkness of our own hearts ...he will not
continue to breathe into our soul ...unless our love and prayer and
thanksgiving return to him, a sacrifice wherewith he is well pleased.
4
This sounds very odd, if one takes it to mean more than the
pragmatic observation that if one gives up religious habits one
ceases to have religious experiences according to the elaborate
patternwhichthe professionalslaid down.Thetheme ispicked
up in later revivalistic verse: ‘Too late, too late will be the cry –
Jesus of Nazareth has passed by.’
The passage, given emphasis by coming at the close of
the sermon, leaves the impression that God’s patience and
Early Wesleyanism: 1740–1770 35
affection for human beings has a short timespan in terms of
eternity, that grace and arbitrariness are reconcilable in the
divine economy. One can relate this passage to the letter John
wrote to Charles, much later, on 27 June 1766. He described
there the continual flatness of his inner religious feelings:
I do not love God. I never did. Therefore I never believed in the
Christian sense of the word. Therefore I am only an honest hea-
then ...I never had any other proof of the eternal and invisible world
than I have now; and that is none at all, unless such as fairly shines
from reason’s glimmering ray. I have no direct witness. I do not say
that I am a child of God, but of anything invisible and eternal.
Nevertheless, he wrote that he was not impelled in his
preaching by fear of any kind. ‘I have no more fear than love.
Or if I have any fear it is not of falling into hell, but of falling
into nothing.’
5
No stress should be laid on Wesley’s use of the
word ‘reason’, apart from the implication that in his case reli-
gious experience had not brought ‘spiritual senses’ into play;
he was appealing to the kind of proofs of God’s reality which
Hume had already savaged by the 1750s. Both the conclusion
of the sermon and the words in the letter have a Calvinist ring
about them; they breathe not fatalism but an impression that
he has no final freedom, of his being in the hands of a God who
might well withdraw his favour and leave him to plunge help-
lessly into chaos without further hope of rescue. The use of
the word ‘fear’ changes, from the fear of hell, of punishment,
which he said he did not have, to a different fear, that of never-
thelessnot beingacceptable.The sentence inhis letterreflected
Wesley’s double conviction, first, that his life as a whole did
not deserve condemnation, a view at odds with his fundamen-
tal theology; and second, that as he was – and this seems to be
a moral judgement, but one not fully worked out – he could
not be saved. At times, one suspects, Wesley found himself
36 Wesley and the Wesleyans
caught up in the anxiety-machine which he had fastened on his
followers, who could hardly appeal to the Calvinistic doctrine
of final perseverance, but had to battle on against demons,
doubt or depression until hope reconstituted itself or the
tormented personality changed and dropped the religious ap-
proach to life, or at least this Wesleyan version of it. Several of
the Anglican ministers who associated with the Wesleys in the
first fewyears wentoverto George Whitefieldorto the Count-
ess of Huntingdon, or to the Moravians in search of Calvinistic
relief from uncertainty.
6
This was the root of eighteenth-
century British Calvinism which Wesley could not destroy.
Like many in his own societies Wesley found that he could
not feel a comforting inner and divine voice of reassurance,
so that, without putting it in clear theological terms, he had
logically to rely on election, like the least of Whitefield’s con-
gregation. Towards the end of the first Wesleyan wave, on
15 March 1770, Wesley wrote from Arbr oath to a Mrs Barton
that two things were certain: ‘the one, that it is possible to lose
even the pure love of God; the other, that it is not necessary,
it is not unavoidable – it may be lost, but it may be kept’.
7
He
implied that the responsibility lay with Mrs Barton (a follower
whohad recently receivedsanctification); that although divine
grace was suffcient for her, she must continue to grow, and
this meant working even more ‘to comfort the feeble-minded,
to support the weak, to confirm the wavering, and to recover
them that are out of the way’, all of which he regarded as
evangelical tasks. She, like him, must look for reassurance in
the uncertainty of others.
Whenreading sermons like the one quoted above, the over-
whelmingly biblical context of their conception needs to be
remembered. Wesley’s thoughts were subject to a patchwork
of texts from which he could not liberate himself. Although he
frequently styled himself ‘a man of one book’, he nevertheless
Early Wesleyanism: 1740–1770 37
read many others, interpreting them through the structures of
the Bible. Yet he had no positive grasp of a critical approach
to the biblical text.
It has been argued that Wesley was a religious empiricist who
deliberately drew on the religious experiences of those who
surrounded him, and especially on those of Wesleyan women
such as Sarah Crosby (c. 1729–1804). She had joined the orig-
inal London society, and moved to Derby in 176 1. Wesley
allowed her to expound the scriptures and even preach; she
travelled widely, and advocated Wesley’s perfectionist teach-
ing. Wesley, however, was not a philosophical observer. No
one of an empirical temperament would have responded as
Wesley did to the claims made for subjective religious excite-
ment made by some of the members of the London society
in the early 1760 s. George Bell, a former soldier who be-
came a Wesleyan in 1758, and Thomas Maxfield, who had
joined Wesley in 1739, both talked in perfectionist language,
attempted spiritual healing, and organised a withdrawal from
the society of around a fifth of its members in 1763. Bell even
declared that the Second Coming would take place on the fol-
lowing 28 February. It was only after Bell’s arrest on public
order charges that Wesley finally made up his mind and openly
attacked him, not for perfectionism but for Adventism.
Yet in the January of 1770 Wesley could still write to Mary
Bosanquet (1739 –1815), who had been directly involved in
the chaos in London, which she left for Leeds in the late
1760s, becoming a de facto preacher there, that it had been
salvation from inward sin which above 500 in London had
received.‘True they did not (all or most of them) retain it; but
they had it as surely as they had pardon. And you and they
may receive it again.’
8
Empiricism this was not, but a restless
anxiety to believe what others believed at almost any cost.
38 Wesley and the Wesleyans
Wesley’s attitude to the possibility of receiving holiness as a
direct divine gift remained unaffected by the experience of his
followers, and throughout the first wave of Wesleyanism he
pressed it on them.
His insistence that even if the Londoners did not retain
salvation from inward sin, there could be no doubt that they
had felt such a transformation, had its pathos. They doubtless
believedwhat they said, but left Wesley with no ground for the
certainty which he asserted. He wrote on the same theme to
MrsBarton in YorkshireinMay1770.Shehadrecentlyreceived
sanctification and he wanted to encourage her not to slip back.
He told her that ‘although many taste of that heavenly gift,
deliverance from inbred sin, yet so few, so exceeding few,
retain it one year, hardly one in ten, nay one in thirty. Many
hundreds in London were made partakers of it within sixteen
or eighteen months, but I doubt whether twenty of them are
now as holy and happy as they were. And hence others had
doubted whether God intended that salvation to be enjoyed
long. That many have it for a season, they allow, but are not
satisfied that any retain it always. Shall not you for one?’
A genuinely empirical approach to the London events
might have led Wesley to ask himself what was the value of
this altered state of consciousness, of which he himself clearly
had no subjective evidence. Why should one constantly press
peopleto expose themselvesto the shocksand disappointment,
the infliction of which seemed to be the Spirit’s mode of ac-
tivity? But Wesley remained uninfluenced by the information
he had gathered over more than a generation of Wesleyan
development, because he interpreted what he saw, or what
was reported to him, in terms of a set of biblical texts whose
meaning, as far as he grasped it, took precedence over empiri-
cal data. A perf ectionist subculture stubbornly survived to the
end of his life.
Early Wesleyanism: 1740–1770 39
Wesley’s position as he grew older, surrounded by the rank
and file of those who filled his societies, brings to mind what
the Victorian painter Edward Burne-Jones, said of his friend
William Morris’s socialist politics:
when he went into it I thought he would have subdued the ignorant,
conceited, mistaken rancour of it all – that he would teach them some
humility and give them some sense of obedience ...I had hopes he
would affect them. But never a bit – he did them absolutely no good –
they got complete possession of him. All the nice men that went into
it were never listened to, only noisy, rancorous ones got the ear of the
movement.
9
Read with an eye for the obvious differences, this goes to
the heart of the matter. Wesley was not a man of the new crit-
ical culture, nor did he tr avel all over England collecting and
analysing information about the way that religious people
behaved. Rather, he was a man with a mission, as Morris
was, and he had to accommodate himself, as Morris also did,
to those who would join his societies. Both men worked hard
to raise the intellectual and moral level of their constituencies.
In both cases, however, they had plunged themselves into cul-
tures which they did not fully under stand, and whose ways of
acting they could modify but not transform. As with Morris, so
with Wesley it could be said that although he tried to teach his
followers some humility and some sense of obedience, in the
end they got possession of him, some of the laity encouraging
him to think that he was right about sanctification, and many
of the itinerants quietly playing the idea down. Wesley could
not establish a critical distance, either from himself, where he
needed to make moral judgements instead of fussing about
states of feeling, or from the more assertive members of his
movement, whose states of mind – especially in the case of the
women – were more closed to him than he realised or would
have liked to face. He paid the penalty for letting himself
40 Wesley and the Wesleyans
be detached from the intellectual preoccupations of his age,
and his attitude to claims about the spiritual life ceased to be
empirical, because he had adopted precritical standards.
As far as the ‘confessional’ letter which John wrote to
Charles Wesley is concerned, one should beware of reading it
in too modern a context, of taking it for granted that Wesley
was writing in the style of Kierkegaard, or suddenly revealing
a previously concealed scepticism. Martin Schmidt, for exam-
ple, clamed that ‘this was a thoroughly modern f eeling which
seized his soul. The traditional concepts had lost their potency,
and nihilism was beginning to make itself felt in the form of
a horror of complete emptiness and absurdity.’
10
Schmidt is
very perceptive on Wesley’s character, but here I must dis-
agree. Wesley was admitting that he had not found sanctifying
faith, and even that he rarely became conscious of the pres-
ence of the divine Spirit, though his accounts of Methodist
society meetings in the Journal would become suspect if one
took this statement as exact. What he was expressing, for all
that he denied that he was overcome by fear, was a deep dread
of an inscrutable divine power, which might be satisfied, even
well pleased, with a ‘sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving’, but
which could choose not to be pleased and could, so to speak,
walk away, abandoning the human soul not to hell (because
hell was a place for the negative, or deliberate sinner, and for
active punishment) but to a special limbo reserved for rejected
Arminians.Their e pitaph might be rendered: they danced, but
they did not please. Schmidt argued that: ‘[Wesley] trusted
God not only with a childlike faith in providence, but with all
the tenacity of a mature man who was clear in his own mind as
to what he was doing and what he was risking, but who in his
decisions and actions knew himself to be only a tool in the firm
grasp of him who had laid his hand upon him.’
11
Rather, what
Wesley relied on was the effect of his preaching, which still
Early Wesleyanism: 1740–1770 41
led in the 1760s to great excitement and conversion. But the
Calvinist flavour remains: nothing guarantees the final vision
of God.
Thesermons onholiness appearedin1748 and Wesley made
no substantial alterations later on, though in reply to criticism,
both Nonconformist and Anglican, he issued supplementary,
butnot radicallychanged, accounts of his teaching on holiness.
From the later 1760s he tried to set his ‘Connexion’ on a
permanentfooting,whichrequired abehaviouralshifttowards
respectability, some playing down of the ecstasy of the past,
and perhaps a kinder, less threatening stress – understandable
in the light of his letter to his brother – on the possibility of
people cooperating with God in finding personal holiness. But
the letters from 1770 quoted previously show that as a spiritual
director – which is what his role in the societies became as
time went on – he still insisted on the need to ‘press forward
to perfection’.
In the decisive decade between 1738 and 1750, and again in
the Wesleyan troubles which marked the period of the Seven
Years War(1756–1763), togetherwiththecampaignofholiness
testimonies which Wesley ran through the Arminian Magazine
from its first publication in 1778, Gordon Rupp saw support
for the image of Wesley as an ‘apostolic man’ with a genuinely
enlightenedinterestinreligiousphenomena.
12
ProfessorRupp
quoted one of Wesley’s early clerical corrspondents, ‘John
Smith’, as saying ironically that Wesley felt called to ‘the
apostolateof England’;Ruppcommentedthatahundredyears
later men would think that something rather like that had
been going on. Wesley did think of himself , not precisely
as apostolic, but as a man entrusted with a national mission,
who dared not stop his revolving itinerancy. The Wesleyans
themselves came to treat him as what we might now call a
charismatic figure.
42 Wesley and the Wesleyans
Whether the quality of his understanding of his mission
was apostolic is another question. It is interesting to compare
him with French intellectuals of the period who wrote and
campaigned in the field of religion. He never analysed the re-
ligious reactions of his followers with the subtlety with which
the materialist philosopher Denis Diderot, for instance, anal-
ysed the psychology of religious asceticism and female suffer-
ing in his novel La Religeuse, which was written in the 1760s,
although not published until 1796, after his death. And when
Jean-JacquesRousseauansweredthescepticismof the Parisian
intellectuals, it was with a Shaftesbury-like subjective invoca-
tion of the goodness of the human heart and with an appeal
to the religious inspiration of landscape which had no paral-
lel in Wesley’s writing: he had no taste for nature-mysticism.
There are more ways than one of acting out an a postolate,
and Rousseau influenced the piety of the nineteenth-century
European bourgeoisie more deeply than Wesleyanism did.
Wesley held the mistaken view that moral decisions were
simple; that what one needed, given that Jesus had laid down
the essential moral law, was a supernatural transformation of
the will. In practice, Wesleyan holiness meant altered states of
consciousness, brief in themselves, and with no lasting effect
on the will or personality. Wesley accepted the definition of
holiness which demanded loving God with all one’s heart and
mind and soul and one’s neighbour as oneself. But neither
the presence of the Spirit nor the pursuit of love helped him
and his followers to a clearer understanding of their own and
other people’s motives. After the first wave of Wesleyanism
the societies gradually lost their appetite for ecstatic expe-
rience, because the members were beginning to feel them-
selves in control of their social and personal circumstances.
Wesley recognised and deplored this shift from dependence
to independence.
Early Wesleyanism: 1740–1770 43
As far as John Wesley is concerned, V. H. H. Green’s
penetrating description of his old age remains valid:
Ultimately, like so many of the Christian saints, John Wesley was
self-regarding ...His life was built around his own experience, an ex-
perience glazed and insulated from the outside world by his confidence
in God and in himself. Completely selfless and yet intensely egoistic,
he had come to identify himself with his own creation ...The diaries
[Wesley’s Journals] form one of the most consistently complacent doc-
uments ever written, and the more religious he became the more free
from human frailty he appeared to be. Apart from the period of his
early life his entries are almost devoid of doubt and self-criticism. Self-
satisfied and self-regarding, yet by his unstinted selflessness he made
himself wondrously loved. Nothing could justify the wild attacksof the
neo-Calvinists and the writers in the Gospel Magazine but their fury,
like his wife ’s rages, may have been provoked by his untouchability,
the hard centre of his personality.
13
Dr Green’s summary underlines the weakness of Wesley’s
reliance on the sources and results of primary religion, his fre-
quentinability todistinguishbetween moralandemotionalen-
ergy.This weakness didnot developin oldage,but had dogged
him throughout his life. The comparatively slow growth of
the societies of the first wave reflected this.
Mirroring the slow development of the early Wesleyan
societies, there was no wide English religious movement out-
side them in the 1740s and 1750s: there was, for example, little
Dissenting expansion. Neither the Baptists nor the varieties
of Independency and Presbyterianism recovered much in
the first half of the eighteenth century. Even the Moravians,
who were swept by powerful religious emotions in the 1740s,
did not attempt to expand after 1750 , and their settlements –
self-sufficient, pietist villages – had less influence than they
deserved. This happened partly because Wesley – although
he had, in 1738, under Moravian auspices, first felt what might
be called a physical sensation of forgiveness – soon ceased to