This book is in two parts: the first is an Introduction and a series of essays by Reynolds on John Woolman; the second consists of excerpts from Woolman’s writings. It is, therefore, an excellent introduction to John Woolman if you are coming to him for the first time.
Reynolds sets the stage quite well, putting the life of Woolman (1720-1772) into an historical and religious context. As a Quaker, Woolman focused his energies on the plight of Negro slaves and on the abuse of Indians [the most commonly used designation of Indigenous peoples in Woolman’s time]. He writes that he “appeared inferior to many amongst the Indians” and “a concern arose to spend some time with the Indians, that I might feel and understand their life, and the spirit they live in, if haply I might receive some instruction from them.” Reynolds points out, however, that “by a curious convention, the Society’s [Religious Society of Friends] ‘peace testimony’ was considered, in practice, to apply to the Indian, but not to the Negro.”
As for Woolman’s life, Reynolds tells of his trade as a tailor and of future business ventures that made him morally uncomfortable because they made him too affluent. “My mind,” writes Woolman, “through the power of Truth, was in a good degree weaned from the desire of outward greatness, and I was learning to be content with real conveniences that were not costly; so that a way of life free from much entanglements appeared best for me, though the income was small.” Speaking of the consequences of wealth being accumulated by a few at the expense of the many, Woolman, in Reynold’s words, “protested, in the best traditions of prophecy, against injury to future generations in order to satisfy the immediate desire of a few for more than their share of wealth.” “Do we feel,” writes Woolman, “an affectionate regard to posterity, and are we employed to promote their happiness? Do our minds, in things outward, look beyond our own dissolution? And are we contriving for the prosperity of our children after us? Let us then, like wise builders, lay the foundation deep, and by our constant uniform regard to an inward piety and virtue let them see that we really value it.”
In the wider scope of American life, Woolman’s understanding and practice of Quakerism offered a complete alternative to politics as it was then practised, for it relied not on the power of the few, but on the inward leadings of all. Reynolds, writing this book on Woolman in 1948, takes the time to relate Woolman’s concerns with those of his [Reynold’s] own time. In addressing party politics, Reynold’s writes, “The party may come into being to achieve a good object; but, once established, the party, claiming loyalty from its members, can soon become a rival to the very object for which it is supposed to stand. Loyalty to the organization subtly replaces loyalty to a principle, and we need not go very far to find politicians defending what they have previously condemned because their own party is in power.” What was true for Woolman in the 18th century, and true for Reynolds in 1948, remains true to this day.
Reynolds makes another correspondence between Woolman’s time and his own when addressing human ingenuity. Woolman writes, “To provide things relative to our outward living, in the way of true wisdom, is good; and the gift of improving in things useful is a good gift. […] Many have had this gift, and from age to age there have been improvements of this kind made in the world. But some, not keeping to the pure gift, have, in the creaturely cunning and self-exaltation, sought out many inventions […] so the effects of it have been and are evil.” Reynolds, relating this to his own time, writes, “My own first reading of this passage, about a month after the first atomic bomb fell on Hiroshima, was something that I shall never forget. It was as though Woolman had reached out of his century and stood beside me, pointing to the inevitable climax of materialism, of the idolatrous worship given to machines, of the neglect of spiritual values and the degradation of human personality.” We could forward this to our own time and say much the same thing.
Woolman sought integrity in all aspects of his life, from his business affairs, to dress (his clothes were of undyed cloth), to refusing to use silver vessels for food and drink, to religious practice (the simplicity of silent worship and inner leading as opposed to ritualized services and externally imposed doctrines), to refusing to use stage-coaches in his time in England (where he died of smallpox) because it was an abuse of the natural life of horses.
“Pure wisdom,” a term which Woolman often used, referred to the way by which spiritual light should be sought, and to the true nature of that light. He believed there was “an absolute standard of ethics against which the changing ‘morals’ of humanity can be measured,” and it was one by which he measured the customs of his age. That being said, Woolman points out that Quakers are “too conscious of their own imperfections to claim that they invariably hear, infallibly understand, or faithfully follow on all occasions the guidance in which they believe.” It is not “the light,” then, which is fallible, but Quakers themselves. Woolman did not use the results of an action as a criterion, but the “pure wisdom,” the standards of conduct, that were behind the action. He was a man who not only talked the talk, but walked the walk. As Reynolds says, “he was not merely a pacifist, but a peace-maker — not just a person who objected to wars when they came, but one who really lived ‘in the virtue of that life and power’ from which conflict could not possibly arise.” He was a man of charity, of dignity and humility.
Finally, “In the difficulties attending us in this life,” writes Woolman, “nothing is more precious than the mind of Truth inwardly manifested; and it is my earnest desire that in this weighty matter we may be so truly humbled as to be favoured with a clear understanding of the mind of Truth and follow it.”