A Year of Crisis
The year 1764 is, in many respects, a critical period in the evolution of the Methodist Church. It marks the close of one stage and the beginning of another. It was twenty-five years since Wesley stood on the hillside at Kingswood and preached his first sermon in the open air. For a quarter of a century the Revival had now flowed on without pause or ebb, and it was visibly reshaping the religious life of England. Wesley’s societies were scattered all over the United Kingdom, each society a little germinating point of spiritual life. Wesley had gathered round himself, and was training in his helpers, a new order of Christian workers, in some respects curiously like the preaching friars of the Middle Ages, or the “poor preachers” whom Wyclitfe sent out; but with a better creed, a gladder message, and a wiser organisation than either. There is no other spiritual movement recorded in history since apostolic days that shows from its very birth such sustained energy, and such power of continual advance, as did the movement of which Whitefleld and the Wesleys were the leaders.
But twenty-five years in such a work make up a wide space of time, and bring with them many changes. Wesley’s comrades, one by one, had dropped from his side. Whitefield was broken in health. His American orphanage tilled an almost absurdly wide space in his mental horizon. He had never attempted to build up an enduring spiritual structure. The crowd, swayed by his rushing speech as a field of yellow, rustling corn is swayed by the wind, was his ideal; it represented his one effective form of work. To patiently weave over the surface of the three kingdoms a great network of tiny societies was a task quite alien to his genius. As he himself said, “I should but weave a Penelope’s web if I formed societies, and if I should form them I have no proper assistants to take care of them. I intend, therefore, to go about preaching the Gospel to every creature.” But as a matter of fact Whitefield no longer had physical energy enough for his preaching services, and four years later he died.
Charles Wesley, too, was falling out of the work. His health was shaken. He was married, and had now the cares of a family. The poet in him had largely taken the place of the preacher, and the evangelist gave place more and more to the High Churchman. There were some twenty-seven years of strenuous work yet before Wesley, but it was to be lonely work. From 1764 he stands out a solitary figure, sole leader and representative of the Great Revival.
At this point, too, the relation of the work to the Church of England becomes more definite. The work began within the Church; its originator and leaders were Anglican clergymen; and it was one of the happy possibilities of the Revival that it might have remained a movement within the Church, transforming its whole spirit and outlook. The onfall of the bishops had helped to wreck this possibility, and at this stage in Wesley’s career it had become clear, even to the reluctant eyes of Wesley himself, that the Anglican Church and the Revival were to flow in different channels.
Wesley’s own policy was definite, consistent, and perfectly intelligible. He would not by any act of his own separate from the Church. He sat in his own person a shining example of loyalty to its services. He held his followers to them with all the energy of his masterful will. He whipped them away from all thought of dissent with constant rebuke. But he held separation from the Church to be — not lawful — but only inexpedient. From the first, indeed, he saw with clearest vision that separation would probably come; nay, that under some circumstances it ought to come. He only hoped it would not be till he was dead.
In his first Conference (in 1744), a Conference in which, out of ten persons, six were Anglican clergymen, the whole case is stated, as we have seen, with luminous clearness, and with almost prophetic foresight. In the Conference of 1746 the questions of a National Church and of the divine right of episcopacy were again discussed at length, and answered once more in a strongly anti-sacerdotal sense.
But there were forces working both ways. In the Confereuce of 1752 Charles Wesley drew up, and persuaded the leading members of the Conference to sign, a remarkable pledge, the final clause of which was a promise “never to leave the communion of the Church of England without the consent of all those whose names were subjoined.” John Wesley, who was always less of a Churchman than Charles, defined his position four years later in the following terms: —
“I still believe the episcopal form of Church government to be scriptural and apostolical. I mean well agreeing with the practice and writings of the Apostles. But that it is prescribed in Scripture I do not believe. This opinion, which I once zealously espoused, I have been heartily ashamed of ever since I read Bishop Stillingfleet’s ‘Irenicon.’ I think he has unanswerably proved that neither Christ nor His Apostles prescribe any particular form of Church government; and that the plea of divine right for diocesan episcopacy was never heard of in the primitive Church.
“I would take some pains to recover any one from error, or to reconcile him to our Church, I mean to the Church of England; from which I do not separate yet, and probably never shall; but I would take much more pains to recover any one from sin.”’
In the Conference of the same year (1756) again it is recorded: “We largely considered the necessity of keeping the Church, and using the clergy with tenderness. And there was no dissenting voice. God gave us all to be of one mind and of one judgment.”
Wesley himself adds: “My brother and I closed the Conference by a solemn declaration of our purpose never to separate from the Church. And all our brethren concurred therein. “2
In 1758 Wesley published “Twelve Reasons against Separating from the Church of England.” The sum of the whole runs: “Whether it be lawful or not (which itself may be disputed, being not so clear a point as some may imagine), it is by no means expedient for us to .separate from the Established Church. “^ Charles Wesley, always on this ])oiut more vehement than his brother, appends to the “reasons” a statement which runs: —
“I subscribe to them with all my heart. Only with regard to the first: I am quite clear, that it is neither expedient, nor lawful,
‘Tyerman, vol. ii. p. 244. ‘Myles, p. 80. mid., p. 81. for me to separate, and I never had the least inclination or temptation so to do. My affection for the Church is as strong as ever; and I clearly see my calling, which is to live and die in her communion. This, therefore, I am determined to do, the Lord being my helper.’”
In a private letter written at the same time, he says: “I should have broken off from the Methodists and my brother, in 1752, but for the agreement. I think every l)reacher should sign that agreement, or leave us.”^
Nothing can be clearer in all this historj’ than Wesley’s personal loyalty to the Church of England, and his deep, and even passionate, desire to retain his converts within the boundaries of that Church. But the resistless logic of events made changes inevitable. Wesley was losing one by one his spiritual allies in the Church itself. The Bishops were, from the first, openly hostile, and no bond of interest or sympathy linked the Church any longer to the Revival. Wesley in 175G was urged by his Church friends to disband his army of itinerating preachers, and to hand over his societies to the care of the parish clergy. He discussed the proposal with great calmness and frankness: —
“First, who shall feed them with the milk of the Word? The ministers of their parishes? Alas! they cannot; they themselves neither know, nor live, nor teach the Gospel.” As to his helpers. Wesley adds, “Here is another difficulty still: what authority have I to forbid their doing what I believe God has called them to do? I apprehend, indeed, that there ought, if possible, to be both an outward and inward call to this work; yet, if one of the two be supposed wanting, I had rather want the outward than the inward call. I rejoice that I am called to preach the Gospel both by God and man. Yet, I acknowledge, I had rather have the Divine without the human, than the human without the Divine call.’”
He had at that time thirty-four societies in Cornwall alone, and he asks: “Will they prosi)er as well when they are left as sheep without a shepherd? The experiment has been tried again and again, and always with the same event.”
In 1764 Wesley wrote his famous circular letter to all the evangelical clergy who might be supposed to sym-
‘Myles, p. 84.
‘Tyerman, vol. ii. p. 245.
‘Ibid., p. 250.
pathise with the Revival. The letter is a noble plea for patience, toleration, union, and help. “Why,” he asks, in conclusion, “cannot we think well of and honour one another? Wish all good, all grace, all gifts, all success, yea, greater than our own, to each other? Expect God will answer our wish, rejoice in every appearance thereof, and praise Him for it? Readily believe good of each other, as readily as we once believed evil?” That fine appeal was addressed to betwixt fifty and sixty clergymen, all of whom, by character and religious experience, were in sympathy with Wesley; but only three vouchsafed an answer; one of them being Perronet, Vicar of Shoreham, who was one of Wesley’s closest friends. If Wesley’s friends stood aloof in this spirit, the mood of the Church at large may be guessed!
Some twelve clergy were present at the Conference of 1764; but they were present merely to urge that Wesley should withdraw the preachers from every parish where there was a clergyman “of a religious spirit”! Charles Wesley supported the proposal, and, in the words of John Pawson, who was present, “honestly told us that if he was a settled minister in any particular place, we should not preach there.” To whom Mr. Hampson replied, “I would preach there and never ask your leave, and should have as good a right to do so as you would have.” The new wine, it was clear, could not be permanently held in the old bottles!
It may be added that a great wave of spiritual life, which during this period was sweeping through the Methodist societies, and lifting them up to a higher level of energy and gladness, had the curious effect of widening the breach between Wesley and his natural allies in the Anglican Church. At the end of 1762, Wesley writes: “Many years ago my brother frequently said, ‘Your day of Pentecost is not fully come. But I doubt not, it will. And you will then hear of persons sanctified, as frequently as you do now of persons justified. Any unprejudiced person who has read the accounts in my Journals may observe that it was now fully come.’
“The true day of Pentecost” had, indeed, come for Wesley and his followers. Sanctification had been hitherto a
‘fifyles, p. 87. doctrine debated by many, but an experience realised by few. At this period, however, for thousands the doctrine had become a true spiritual experience. Wesley’s journals are full of records of the spiritual work in triumphant progress.
Now the doctrine itself, as yet, lacked clear definition. Wesley, in formal terms, never claimed sanctification as his personal experience-; but he reached at last a definition of the doctrine which is marked by admirable simplicity and clearness. He defined it i)artly by negatives: —
“Absolute and infallible perfection I never contended for; sinless perfection I do not contend for, seeing it is not Scriptural. A perfection such as enables a person to fulfil the whole law, and so need not the merits of Christ, I do not acknowledge. I do now, and always did, protest against it.”
Then, translating the doctrine into positive terms, he says: —
“By Christian perfection I mean (as I have said again and again) the so loving God and our neighbour as to ‘rejoice evermore, pray without ceasing, and in everything give thanks.’ He that experiences this is Scripturally perfect.”
But all good things have their characteristic risks, and this doctrine of sanctification, or “perfection,” ran, or was apt to run — especially with the half-taught and ill-balanced — into fanatical extremes. This happened in the London societies, and some of Wesley’s most trusted helpers were carried away. George Bell, and ex-Life Guardsman, was one of his most valued comrades. Long afterwards Wesley records how for years he had found in Bell a loyal sympathy and helpfulness no one else yielded him. Maxfield was the earliest of his helpers, and one held in special confidence. Both these were at this moment swept away in a wave of fanaticism. Bell ran to the wildest extremes. He fixed a day for the end of the world; openly renounced Wesley, and drew off many of the members. All this, of course, shocked the sober Anglicans. Wesley appealed to his brother Charles to come up to London to help him to keep the societies steady, but the appeal was vain. He wrote again, in a key of mingled sadness but of grim resolve: — “I perceive verba fiunt mortuo; so I say no more about your coming to
London. Here stand I; and I shall stand, with or without human help, if God is with us.”
Wesley, left to himself, dealt with the trouble with fine courage and decision. He expelled Bell from the society, and publicly denounced his follies; but he could not arrest the mischievous effect of this outburst of extravagance in the societies. It widened fatally the breach betwixt himself and those who had been his closest friends.
Wesley felt keenly the desertion of his old comrades. He writes on March 20, 1763, to Lady Huntingdon, in a tone of bitterness rarely audible in his letters: —
“By the mercy of God, I am still alive, and following the work to which He has called me, although without any help, even in the most trying times, from those of whom I might have expected it. Their voice seemed to be rather, ‘Down with him, down with him; even to the ground.’ I mean (for I use no circumlocution) Mr. Madan, Mr. Haweis, Mr. Berridge, and (I am sorry to say it) Mr. Whitefield. Only Mr. Romaine has shown a truly sympathising spirit, and acted the part of a brother. As to the prophecies of these poor wild men, George Bell and half-a-dozen more, I am not a jot more accountable for them than Mr. Whitefield, having never countenanced them in any degree, but opposed them from the moment I heard them; neither have these extravagances any foundation in any doctrine which I teach.”
As a matter of fact, the one loyal friend whom Wesley thought he still had, Romaine, had by this time forsaken him too. Lady Huntingdon sent on to him the letter from which the preceding extract is taken; Romaine wrote in reply : —
“Enclosed is poor Mr. John Wesley’s letter. The contents of it, as far as I am concerned, surprised me; for no one has spoken more freely of what is now passing among the people than myself. I pity Mr. John from my heart. His societies are in great confusion; and the point, which brought them into the wilderness of rant and madness, is still insisted on as much as ever. I fear the end of this delusion.”
It is clear from all this, that, at a moment of crisis, when his societies were in peril of being broken asunder by extravagances of life and doctrine, and when his most trusted helpers were failing him, Wesley was abandoned by his allies amongst the Anglican clergy, even his brother for the moment failing him. Wesley bore the cruel burden thus cast upon him with noble resolution, and the crisis passed. But the incident had enduring results. It helped to decide the whole relation of MethodiKsm to the Church of England. Wesley yet remained, in his own person and sympathies, stubbornly loyal to the Church. The spiritual movement of which he was now the sole head should not, if he could help it, drift into dissent. But the last ties that bound it to the Church were being cut — on the side of the Church itself!
If any one wishes an illustration of the general temper of the Anglican Church to this great spiritual movement after it had been nearly thirty years in operation, and was visibly transfiguring the moral life of England, let him take the following incident: On March 9, 1768, six students were expelled from the University of Oxford for holding Methodistical tenets, and taking upon them to pray, and to read and expound the Scriptures in a private house. The head of the House to which the students belonged defended their doctrine from the Thirty-nine Articles, and spoke in the highest terms of the piety and high character of the accused men, but in vain. The principal of the College, after sentence had been pronounced, said that as these six gentlemen were expelled for having too much religion, it would be very proper to inquire into the conduct of some who had too little. What fact can be more significant than that so late as 1768 students of high character were expelled from the University of Oxford for no other offence than that of “holding Methodistical tenets!”
The difficulty created by the failure of his clerical allies explains another much-debated step which Wesley took at this time. The larger societies were accustomed to receive the sacrament in their own chapels, but it was physically impossible for Wesley himself to do this work. No clergyman would any longer help him, and Wesley had the High Churchman’s invincible reluctance to allow any unordained preacher to administer the sacraments. His first helper, Maxfield, had been ordained by an Irish bishop, and was accustomed to administer the sacrament in London during Wesley’s absence, but even Maxfield had now forsaken him. At this moment a bishop of the Greek Church named Erasmus was in London. Wesley took pains to ascertain that his credentials were genuine, and then consented to some of his helpers receiving ordination from him.
But this was only a temporary expedient; it carried with it some strange theological implications, and it created new and instant tronbles. Charles Wesley was filled with unappeasable anger; and this, in turn, kindled amongst the little group of ordained helpers an answering resentment. One of them, John Jones, whom Wesley valued most, and on whom the Greek bishop had laid his hands, left him, and accepted orders in the Anglican Church. Another of the ordained men, Stanniforth, records in his Journal: —
“In the year 1764 I was sent for by Mr. W. to his house. The messenger told me he wanted to speak with me, and I must come Immediately. When I came, I found the Grecian bishop with him, who ordained me and three more. But finding it would offend my brethren, I have never availed myself of it to this hour.”
On the whole, the Greek ordinations were an ill-advised attempt to meet a diflBculty which was to find a later, happier, and more enduring solution.