Chapter III From His Ordination to His Settlement at Madeley. 1757 to 1760.
FOR three years after his ordination, Fletcher was without a Church appointment. How did he spend this interval? Wesley says:—
“He was now doubly diligent in preaching, not only in the chapels at West Street and Spitalfields, but wherever the providence of God opened a door to proclaim the everlasting Gospel. This he did frequently in French (as well as in English), of which all judges allowed him to be a complete master.”[20]
As might be expected, Fletcher soon became a great favourite among the first Methodists. Almost at once, he was the highly esteemed friend of Miss Bosanquet (his future wife), Ann Tripp, Sarah Crosby, Sarah Ryan,[21] Thomas Walsh, and others, whose Methodistic fame will never perish. After his death, in 1785, Mrs. Crosby wrote:—
“It is now eight or nine and twenty years since I was first favoured with Mr. Fletcher’s heavenly conversation, in company with Mr. Walsh and a few other friends, most of whom are now in the world of spirits. At these seasons, how frequently did we feel—
‘The o’erwhelming power of saving grace!’
How frequently were we silenced thereby, while tears of love our souls o’erflowed! It affects me while I recollect the humility, fervour of spirit, and strength of faith with which dear Mr. Fletcher so often poured out his soul before the Great Three One, at whose feet we have lain in holy shame and silence, till earth seemed turned to heaven. I heard this heavenly-minded servant of the Lord preach his first sermon in West Street chapel. I think his text was, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.’ His spirit appeared in his whole attitude and action. He could not well find words in the English language to express himself; but he supplied that defect by offering up prayers, tears, and sighs. Nearly about this time he saw Miss Bosanquet, and began his acquaintance with her; but, although they highly esteemed each other, they had no correspondence for above twenty years.”[22]
Fletcher still continued to be the tutor of the sons of Mr. Hill. During the sitting of Parliament, he was in London; the remainder of the year was chiefly spent at Tern Hall.[23] Whilst at the latter place, he preached, on June 19, 1757, for the first time in the church at Atcham, taking as his text, “Ye adulterers and adultresses, know ye not that the friendship of the world is enmity against God?” “A very bold beginning,” wrote his friend Mr. Vaughan. “The congregation stood amazed, and gazed upon him as if he had been a monster; but to me he appeared as a messenger sent from heaven. It was not soon that he was invited again to preach in Atcham church, but he was invited to preach in others; first in Wroxeter, and afterwards at the Abbey Church in Shrewsbury;[24] but I doubt whether he preached more than six times in the six months he stayed in the country. On my saying I wished he had more opportunities of preaching, he answered, ‘The will of God be done; I am in His hands. If He does not call me to so much public duty, I have the more time for study, prayer, and praise.’”[25]
In the month of May, 1757, Wesley was in the north of England and Fletcher was in London. The following letter to Wesley needs no further introduction:—
“London, May 26, 1757.
“Rev. Sir,—If I did not write to you before Mrs. Wesley had asked me, it was not that I wanted a remembrancer within, but rather an encourager without. There is generally upon my heart such a sense of my unworthiness, that sometimes I dare hardly open my mouth before a child of God, and think it an unspeakable honour to stand before one who has recovered something of the image of God, or sincerely seeks after it. Is it possible that such a sinful worm as I should have the privilege to converse with one whose soul is besprinkled with the blood of my Lord? The thought amazes, confounds me, and fills my eyes with tears of humble joy. Judge, then, at what distance I must see myself from you if I am so much below the least of your children; and whether a remembrancer within suffices to make me presume to write to you, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear.
“I rejoice that you find everywhere an increase of praying souls. I doubt not that the prayer of the just has great power with God, but I cannot believe that it should hinder the fulfilling of Christ’s gracious promises to His Church. He must, and certainly will, come at the time appointed, for He is not slack, as some men count slackness; and, although He would have all come to repentance, He has not forgotten to be true and just. Only He will come with more mercy, and will increase the light that shall be at eventide, according to His promise in Zech. xiv. 7. I should rather think that the visions are not yet plainly disclosed, and that the day and year in which the Lord will begin to make bare His arm openly, are still concealed from us.
“I must say concerning Mr. Walsh,[26] as he once said to me concerning God, ‘I wish I could attend him everywhere, as Elisha attended Elijah.’ But since the will of God calls me from him, I must submit, and drink the cup prepared for me. I have not seen him, unless for a few moments three or four times before divine service. We must meet at the throne of grace, or meet but seldom. Oh when will the communion of saints be complete? Lord, hasten the time, and let me have a place among them who love Thee, and love one another in sincerity!
“I set out in two days for the country. Oh may I be faithful; harmless, like a dove; wise, like a serpent; and bold, as a lion, for the common cause! O Lord, do not forsake me! Stand by the weakest of Thy servants, and enable Thy children to bear with me and to wrestle with Thee on my behalf!
“Oh bear with me, dear Sir, and give me your blessing every day, and the Lord will return to you sevenfold.
“I am, Rev. Sir, your unworthy servant, J. Fletcher.”[27]
There is no need to dwell on Fletcher’s humbleness, as displayed in this letter, for that was one of his chief characteristics to the end of life. It may be added, however, that the letter furnishes fresh proof that Fletcher was one of the godly few who were expecting the speedy appearance of the incarnate and glorified Redeemer. It is probable that his letter to Wesley on prophecy had led Wesley to advert to the same subject, and that this was Fletcher’s answer to one of Wesley’s critiques.
Three weeks after the date of this letter, Fletcher preached his first sermon in a church. This was at Atcham, on June 19, as already stated. As in the case of Wesley, churches, however, were soon closed against him. To his friend and class-leader, Mr. Edwards, of London, he wrote:—
“I thank you for your encouraging observations. I want them, and use them by the grace of God. When I received yours, I had not had one opportunity of preaching; so incensed were all the clergy against me. One, however, let me have the use of his church—the Abbey Church at Shrewsbury. I preached in the forenoon with some degree of the demonstration of the Spirit. The congregation was very numerous, and I believe one half, at least, desired to hear me again. But the minister would not let me have the pulpit any more. The next Sunday, the minister of a neighbouring parish lying a-dying, I was sent for to officiate for him. He died a few days after, and the chief man in the parish offered to make interest that I might succeed him; but I could not consent. The next Sunday I preached at Shrewsbury again, but in another church. The next day I set out for Bristol, and was much refreshed among the brethren. As I returned, I called at New Kingswood, about sixteen miles from Bristol. The minister offering me his church, I preached to a numerous congregation, gathered on half an hour’s notice. I think the seed then sown will not be lost.”[28]
Early in the year 1758, Wesley introduced Fletcher to the Countess of Huntingdon. Her ladyship wrote:—
“1758, March 19. I have seen Mr. Fletcher, and was both pleased and refreshed by the interview. He was accompanied by Mr. Wesley, who had frequently mentioned him in terms of high commendation, as had Mr. Whitefield, Mr. Charles Wesley, and others, so that I was anxious to become acquainted with one so devoted, and who appears to glory in nothing, save in the cross of our Divine Lord and Master. Hearing that he preached in French, his native language, I mentioned the case of the French prisoners at Tunbridge. May the Lord of the harvest bless his word, and send forth many such faithful ambassadors!”[29]
Fletcher was becoming famous. Already, in his twenty-ninth year, he had gained the love and admiration of the Wesley brothers, of Whitefield, and of the Methodist great “elect lady.” At her request, Fletcher hied away to Tunbridge, and preached to a congregation of prisoners on their parole, who were so deeply affected by the truth, which many of them had not heard before, that they earnestly requested he would preach to them every Sunday. They proceeded even further, for they signed and sent a petition to Sherlock, Bishop of London, begging him to allow Fletcher to officiate as their weekly chaplain. Strangely enough, notwithstanding Sherlock’s high repute for piety, he peremptorily rejected the prisoners’ petition. Wesley says: “If I had known this at the time, King George should have known it, and I believe he would have given the Bishop little thanks.”[30]
Fletcher, as usual, continued in London with his pupils until the prorogation of Parliament, when Mr. Hill and his family returned to their country home. The journey to Shropshire was made in the family coach; but, unfortunately, Mr. Hill commenced it on the Sabbath-day.[31] This was a trial to Fletcher. Hence the following letter to Charles Wesley:—
“Tern, June 6, 1758.
“Rev. and Dear Sir,—Before I took my leave of you, the Sunday I set out, and indeed almost all the time I was at the communion table, I felt some degree of condemnation, as if, by setting out on that day, I profaned the Sabbath, and the Lord’s supper; whereupon those words came strongly to my mind, ‘Therefore many among you are sick and weak, and some are dead.’ I immediately found myself out of order, and had much ado to reach home after the service was over. Till the horses were at the door, I thought I should not be able to go; but found myself then a little strengthened. The next day, I was much worse, and they were obliged to make room for me in the coach. The day after, I was still worse, and really thought it would be my last. About noon, while the family was at dinner, I collected what little strength I had left; and, falling prostrate before the Lord, I besought Him not to cut me off among heathens, but to grant me the favour of comforting and being comforted by some Christian at my death. This request, so contrary to true resignation, I think reached the ear of the Lord. He rebuked the rage of the fever, and sensibly filled my soul with all peace in believing; so that I saw I was yet for the land of the living. Nay, a few hours after, I found myself as well as ever; and so I continue now by God’s grace.
“What have I to do but to make good use of the health and leisure I have in this retreat? I see my duty, and I form resolutions; but, alas! I carry with me a wicked heart, which enters not into these projects; and Satan is never more assiduous and eager to injure us than in retirement. I feel, however, by the grace of God, determined to sustain all the attacks of the flesh and of the devil, and to seize the kingdom of heaven by force. The Lord has been particularly gracious to me, in putting it into my heart to pray for the brethren. I have experienced more power and more pleasure in this duty of intercession than I have ever done. You will rightly judge that you are not forgotten in these poor prayers; and I hope that you also sometimes remember me.
“I hope you have overcome the scruple which prevented you from giving Mr. Maxfield full liberty to labour for the Lord among us.[32] The interest of the brethren, and no other motive, makes me desire it.
“I shall not see you in Bristol;[33] the journey of my pupils not taking place at the time expected. May the Lord be with you more and more in your labours and in your devotions! Farewell!
“John Fletcher.”[34]
At this period, Sarah Ryan, with whom Fletcher had become acquainted, was acting as the housekeeper in Wesley’s “New Room” at Bristol.[35] To her Fletcher addressed the following hitherto unpublished letter:—
“Tern, October 12, 1758.
“My Sister,—Where shall I begin the sad account I must give you of my numberless infidelities from the time I left you? That very day, having been called to preach in a church on our way, the freedom with which the Lord enabled me to do it puffed me up in some measure. The clear sight of the prize of my high calling was clouded, and so it remained till I got home, when it pleased God to revive my hope full of immortality, and to enable me to hunger and thirst after the everlasting righteousness that shall be brought into the souls of those in whom faith shall have its perfect work. During a few days, I rejoiced because of the power I had over the sin that most easily beset me,—I mean drowsiness; but, alas! my triumph was but short; for, if the enemy did not come in at this door, another, no less effectual, was opened to him. Just as I was going to resume my daily course of business, I was called to preach in a church at Salop, and was obliged to compose a sermon in the moments I should have spent in prayer. Hurry and the want of a single eye again drew a veil between the prize and my soul. In the meantime, Sunday came, and God rejected my impure service, and abhorred the labour of my polluted soul; and, while others imputed my not preaching to the fear of the minister who had invited me to his pulpit, and to the threatenings of a mob, I saw the wisdom and holiness of God, and rejoiced in that providence which does all without the assistance of hurrying Uzzah.
“In general, I find I am surrounded with thousands of temptations, so much the more dangerous because they are disguised under the appearance of duties. I find, at times, such an alienation to religious duties as makes me almost question whether I have a grain of living faith. I think God has, this morning, shown me, in a clearer light than ever, that I must begin to hang upon frames no more, but learn to stand by a naked faith.
“Your unworthy brother,
“J. Fletcher.
“P.S.—Direct to John Fletcher, under cover to Thomas Hill, Esq., M.P., at Tern, near Shrewsbury.
“To Mrs. Ryan,
“At the New Room in the Horse Fair,
“Bristol.”
Thus did these earnest first Methodists watch over themselves with a godly jealousy; and thus, in addition to the Christian fellowship in their weekly class-meetings, did they tell their religious experience to each other in epistolary correspondence. To this fact, pre-eminently, Methodism is indebted for its rich biographies.
Immediately after the date of the above letter, Fletcher must have set out for Bristol, for Wesley writes:—
“In the following week” (the third week in October), “I met Mr. Fletcher, and the other preachers that were in the house at Bristol, and spent a considerable time in close conversation on the head of Christian Perfection. I afterwards wrote down the general propositions wherein we all agreed.”[36]
No doubt, these propositions were substantially the same as those which Wesley, two months before, had presented to his Annual Conference, and which were:—
1. That Christian Perfection does not “exclude all infirmities, ignorance, and mistake.”
2. That those who think they have attained Christian Perfection, in speaking their own experience, should “speak with great wariness, and with the deepest humility and self-abasement before God.”
3. That young preachers, especially, should “speak of Perfection in public, not too minutely or circumstantially, but rather in general and scriptural terms.”
4. That Christian Perfection “implies the loving God with all the heart, so that every evil temper is destroyed, and every thought, and word, and work springs from, and is conducted to the end by, the pure love of God and our neighbour.”[37]
At the close of the year, Fletcher, as usual, was, with the family of Mr. Hill, in London, where he wrote the following to Charles Wesley. There can be no doubt that the “humiliation before he left Tern” was the imputations cast upon him on account of his failing to preach in the church at Salop, mentioned in the foregoing letter to Sarah Ryan.
“London, December 12, 1758.
“My Dear Sir,—Before I left Tern, the Lord gave me a medicine to prepare me to suffer what awaited me here. This humiliation prepared me so well that I was not surprised to learn a person in London had spread abroad many false and scandalous things of me during my absence; and that the minds of many were prejudiced against me. In one sense, I took a pleasure in thinking that I was going to be rejected by the children of God, and that my Saviour would become more dear under the idea that, as in heaven, so now on earth, I should have none but Him. The first time I appeared in the chapel many were so offended that it was with difficulty they could forbear interrupting me in prayer, to tell me, ‘Physician, heal thyself.’ I was on the point of declining to officiate, fearing I should only give fresh offence; indeed, I should have done so had it not been for my friend Bernon, who pressed me to stand firm, representing the triumph my silence would give my enemies. His reasons appeared to me so cogent, that, as your brother did not reject my assistance, I read prayers, and engaged to preach sometimes of a morning; which I have accordingly continued to do.”[38]
This is an unpleasant but amusing episode, and presents these first Methodists in a frame of heart and mind far from commendable. Of course, Fletcher was not faultless. Perhaps he was blameable in the sermon affair at Salop; but, as Wesley still permitted him to read prayers and to preach in the West Street chapel, London, it may be taken for granted that his offence, if an offence had been committed, was a very venial one. Some of the early Methodists had more zeal than charity.
Fletcher continued to officiate in West Street chapel, and, whilst doing so, a proposal was made which occasioned him considerable anxiety. Nathaniel Gilbert inherited an estate in Antigua. For some years, he had been the Speaker in the House of Assembly of that island. In 1758, he was in England, and resided at Wandsworth. Wesley, on January 17, 1758, preached in his house, and met two of his negro servants and a mulatto, who appeared to be much awakened. In the month of November following, Wesley baptized the two negroes. Mr. Gilbert returned to Antigua in the autumn of 1759, and, having become acquainted with Fletcher, was desirous that he should go with him to the West Indian Islands, and preach to the planters and their slaves the “glorious Gospel of the blessed God.” Hence the following letter to Charles Wesley:—
“London, March 22, 1759.
“My Dear Sir,—Since your departure, I have lived more than ever like a hermit. It seems to me that I am an unprofitable weight upon the earth. I want to hide myself from all. I tremble when the Lord favours me with a sight of myself; I tremble to think of preaching only to dishonour God. To-morrow, I preach at West Street, with all the feelings of Jonah. Would to God I might be attended with his success!
“A proposal has lately been made to me to accompany Mr. Nathaniel Gilbert to the West Indies. I have weighed the matter, but, on one hand I feel that I have neither sufficient zeal, nor grace, nor talents to expose myself to the temptations and labours of a mission in the West Indies; and, on the other, I believe that if God calls me thither, the time is not yet come. I wish to be certain that I am converted myself before I leave my converted brethren to convert heathen. Pray let me know what you think of this business. If you condemn me to put the sea between us, the command would be a hard one, but I might possibly prevail on myself to give you that proof of the deference I pay to your judicious advice.
“I have taken possession of my little hired chamber. There I have outward peace, and I wait for that which is within. I was this morning with Lady Huntingdon, who salutes you. Our conversation was deep, and full of the energy of faith on the part of the Countess; as to me, I sat like Saul at the feet of Gamaliel.”[39]
Charles Wesley evidently was one of Fletcher’s confidential advisers, and had great influence over him. Fortunately, that influence was not used to induce him to go to the West Indies. Had he gone, in all probability his “Checks to Antinomianism” would never have been written, and his incalculable services to Wesley and to Methodism would not have been rendered.
From the concluding part of Fletcher’s letter, it would seem that he was not now resident in Mr. Hill’s London mansion, but had “a little hired chamber” of his own. The probability is, that, during the Easter holidays of Parliament, Mr. Hill had returned to Shropshire, and that Fletcher had remained in London to officiate for the two Wesleys in West Street chapel; and, perhaps, in the Foundery, and in the chapel at Spitalfields. Twelve months previously, the Methodist Societies connected with these three places of worship had been blessed with the unspeakably precious ministry of the never-to-be-forgotten Thomas Walsh. “Lord,” said he, when leaving them on February 19, 1758, “Lord, Thou hast given me much favour in the eyes of this people. They show it by words and deeds; their prayers and tears. Reward them a thousandfold!” Seventeen days after the date of Fletcher’s foregoing letter, Thomas Walsh departed this life in Dublin, in the twenty-eighth year of his age. During his last days on earth, he was pre-eminently “in heaviness,” great, distressing “heaviness, through manifold temptations.” At length, Satan was defeated, victory came, Walsh rapturously exclaimed, “He is come! He is come! My Beloved is mine, and I am His! His for ever!” And, uttering these words, he triumphantly expired.[40] Fletcher had become acquainted with Walsh by attending his ministry in Wesley’s London chapels. On hearing of his death, he wrote the following impassioned letter to Charles Wesley:—
“London, April—, 1759.
“My Dear Sir,—With a heart bowed down with grief, and eyes bathed with tears, occasioned by our late heavy loss—I mean the death of Mr. Walsh—I take my pen to pray you to intercede for me. What! that sincere, laborious, and zealous servant of God! Was he saved only as ‘by fire,’ and his prayer not heard till the twelfth hour was just expiring? Oh where shall I appear! I, who am an unprofitable servant! Would to God my eyes were fountains of waters to weep for my sins! Would to God I might pass the rest of my days in crying, ‘Lord, have mercy upon me!’ ‘All is vanity’—grace, talents, labours,—if we compare them with the mighty stride we have to take from time into eternity! Lord, remember me, now that Thou art in Thy kingdom!
“I have preached and administered the sacrament at West Street sometimes in the holidays. May God water the poor seed I have sown, and give it fruitfulness, though it be only in one soul! But I have seen so much weakness in my heart, both as a minister and a Christian, that I know not which is most to be pitied—the man, the believer, or the preacher. Could I at last be truly humbled, and continue so always, I should esteem myself happy in making this discovery. I preach merely to keep the chapel open until God shall send a workman after His own heart. ‘Nos numeri sumus,’—this is almost all I can say of myself. If I did not know myself a little better than I did formerly, I should tell you that I had ceased altogether from placing any confidence in my repentances; but I see my heart is so full of deceit that I cannot depend on my knowledge of myself.
“You are not well! Are you, then, going to leave us, like poor Walsh? Ah! stay, and permit me to go first; that, when my soul leaves the body, you may commend it to the mercy of my Saviour. The day Mr. Walsh died, the Lord gave our brethren the spirit of supplication; and many unutterable groans were offered up for him at Spitalfields, where I was. Who shall render us the same kind offices? Is not our hour near? O, my God, when Thou comest, prepare us, and we shall be ready! You owe your children an elegy on Mr. Walsh’s death, and you cannot employ your poetic talents on a better subject.”[41]
In this interesting letter, Fletcher prayed for success at West Street Chapel, even if the success was limited to “only one soul.” His prayer was answered. At this period, there lived, in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, Owen and Alice Price, natives of Dolgelly, in North Wales. One of their four children was named Mary, and was now fifteen years of age. In 1750, when an earthquake alarmed all London, little Mary was at school. The house in which the school was kept undulated; several windows were broken; the children were thrown down on their faces; and a hoarse rumbling noise was heard for nearly a minute. Mary resolved, henceforth, to serve her Maker. She read the Bible; she prayed; but she was not happy. Some one recommended her to attend the preaching of the Methodists; but she hesitated to do this, because the Methodists were despised, and her parents were opposed to enthusiasts. At length, Mary went to the chapel in West Street, Seven Dials. It was on a Sunday morning; and in those days Methodist meeting-houses were crowded on Sunday mornings, at nine o’clock. Mary made her way down the aisle; the minister, who was reading the prayers, she had never seen before; but his manner, his tones, and the glancing of his eyes, were irresistibly affecting. The minister was Fletcher, and there and then Mary resolved to be a Methodist. The preaching and praying of Fletcher were greatly blessed to her soul’s profit; and, after a severe struggle, she took courage to stay, at the close of the public service, to receive the sacrament. At that period in the history of Methodism, no one was allowed to remain who had not a society ticket, or a note from the officiating minister; and, accordingly, the faithful steward told the Welsh maiden she must either go to the vestry for a note, or quit the chapel. She went, and, with fear and trembling, asked Fletcher’s permission to remain. “Come,” cried he, “come, my dear young friend, come, and receive the memorials of your dying Lord. If sin is your burden, behold the Crucified. Partake of His broken body and shed blood, and sink into the bottomless ocean of His love.” Of course, Mary stayed. For three months afterwards, she sought the Lord diligently in the means of grace; and then, under a sermon preached by Thomas Maxfield, found peace with God, through faith in Jesus Christ. In 1782, Mary Price married Peter Kruse; Wesley appointed her to be the leader of a class at City Road, where she and her husband worshipped; and, after being a godly Methodist for fifty-nine years, she peacefully expired, Joseph Benson preaching her funeral sermon, and her corpse being interred in the burial-ground behind the City Road Chapel.[42]
Another convert may be mentioned here. Richard Hill (afterwards Sir Richard) was the eldest son of Sir Rowland Hill, the first baronet of a distinguished and ancient family.family. Richard was now twenty-seven years of age. From childhood, he had been blest with the strivings of God’s Holy Spirit, and of late had been unutterably anxious about his soul. He writes:—
“About October, 1757, I set myself to work with all the earnestness of a poor perishing mariner, who is every moment in expectation of shipwreck. I fasted, prayed, and meditated. I read the Scriptures, communicated, and gave much alms. But these things brought no peace to my soul; on the contrary, I saw, what I had never seen before, that all my works were mixed with sin and imperfection. My terrors increased, insomuch that I could neither eat nor sleep, and did not think it possible for me to live a week. Everybody observed how ill I looked, and I had much ado to conceal the straits I was in from all about me. After having suffered in this manner a short time, I made my case known to a clergyman; but all he said to me—which indeed was not much to the purpose—had little or no effect. What to do I knew not. Alas! I had no acquaintance with any one who seemed to have the least experience in such a case as mine. Those about me showed the greatest concern for my situation, and offered their remedies for my relief, such as company, physic, and exercise, which, in order to oblige them, I complied with; but my disorder was not to be removed by these carnal quackeries. What I wanted was a skilful physician for my soul; but where to find such an one I knew not.
“I recollected, however, that once, if not oftener, the Rev. Mr. Fletcher, then tutor to two neighbouring young gentlemen, had, in my hearing, been spoken of in a very disrespectful manner, for things which seemed to me to savour of a truly Christian spirit. I, therefore, determined to make my case known to him, and, accordingly, wrote him a letter, without mentioning my name, giving him some account of my situation, and begging him, for God’s sake, to meet me that very night at an inn at Salop, in which place I then was. Though Mr. Fletcher had four or five miles to walk, yet he came punctually to the appointment, spoke to me in a very comfortable manner, and gave me to understand that he had very different thoughts of my state from what I had myself. After our discourse, he went to prayer with me, and, among the other petitions that he put up in my behalf, he prayed that I might not trust in my own righteousness; an expression the import of which I scarcely knew.
“After“After my conversation with Mr. Fletcher, I was rather easier; but this decrease of my terrors was of short duration. I allowed that the promises he would have me apply to myself belonged to the generality of sinners, but I thought they were not intended for me. I, therefore, wrote again to Mr. Fletcher, telling him that, however others might take comfort from the Scripture promises, I feared none of them belonged to me. I told him also, that I found my heart to be exceeding hard and wicked; and that, as all my duties proceeded from a dread of punishment, and not from the principles of faith and love, and were withal so very defective, I thought it was impossible God should ever accept them. In answer to this, the kind and sympathising Mr. Fletcher immediately wrote me a sweet and comfortable letter, telling me that the perusal of the account I had given him had caused him to shed tears of joy, because he saw the Lord had convinced me of the insufficiency of all my own doings to justify me before God, and of the necessity of a saving faith in the blood of Jesus. He also sent me ‘The Life and Death of Mr. Thomas Halyburton,’ which book I read with greatest eagerness.”
After this, Sir Richard Hill proceeds to relate how he found peace with God on February 18, 1758; then how he relapsed into doubts and fears, and lost all his comfort; and then how he wrote to Fletcher in April, 1759, and said:—
“My soul is again bowed down under the sense of the wrath of God. The broken law, with all its thunderings and lightnings, again stares me in the face. My hope seems to be giving up the ghost, and I see nothing before me but blackness and darkness for ever.”
Of course Fletcher replied to this letter. Before long, Sir Richard regained his lost faith and peace, and ever afterwards went on his way rejoicing.[43]
Thus, to an important extent, was Fletcher used in the conversion of the distinguished man, who, a few years later, became one of his sturdiest opponents in the great Calvinian controversy.
In the middle of June, 1759, Mr. Hill, M.P., and his family left London for Shropshire, and, of course, Fletcher went with them. Up to the time of his departure, Fletcher continued to preach in Wesley’s London chapels; but, in writing to Charles Wesley, under the date of June 1, he remarks, with his characteristic humbleness: “I am“I am here umbra pro corpore. I preach as your substitute; come, and fill worthily an office of which I am unworthy.”[44]
At Tern Hall, Fletcher again enjoyed his beloved retirement, and gave himself up to study, meditation, and prayer. Indeed, his whole life was now a life of prayer. “Wherever we met,” says Mr. Vaughan, “if we were alone, his first salute was, ‘Do I meet you praying?’ And, if we were conversing on any point of Divinity, he would often break off abruptly, and ask, ‘Where are our hearts now’”now’”[45] Solitude, however, is often invaded by Satan. It was in the garden, where were only two human beings, that the devil gained his first victory on earth; and it was in “the wilderness” that man’s Redeemer was pre-eminently tempted by the same accursed enemy. The following, addressed to Charles Wesley, is a strange, but honest and instructive production.
“Tern, July 19, 1759.
“My Dear Sir,—Instead of apologizing for my silence, I will tell you that I have twenty times endeavoured to break it, but without effect. I will simply state the cause of it.
“This is the fourth summer that I have been brought hither, in a peculiar manner, to be tempted of the devil in a wilderness; and I have improved so little by my past exercises, that I have not defended myself better than in the first year. Being arrived here, I began to spend my time as I had determined; one part in prayer, and the other in meditation on the Holy Scriptures. The Lord blessed my devotions, and I advanced from conquering to conquer, leading every thought captive to the obedience of Jesus Christ, when it pleased God to show me some of the folds of my heart. As I looked for nothing less than such a discovery, I was extremely surprised; so much so as to forget Christ. You may judge what was the consequence. A spiritual languor seized on all the powers of my soul, and I suffered myself to be carried away quietly by a current, with the rapidity of which I was unacquainted.
“Neither doubt nor despair troubled me for a moment; my temptation took another course. It appeared to me that God would be much more glorified by my damnation than by my salvation. It seemed altogether incompatible with the holiness, the justice, and the veracity of the Supreme Being to admit so stubborn an offender into His presence. I could do nothing but be astonished at the patience of God; and I would willingly have sung those verses of Desbaraux if I had had strength:—
‘Tonne, frappe, il est temps, rend moi guerre pour guerre,
J’adore, en perrissant, la raison qui t’aigrit.’[46]
“Do not imagine, however, that I was in a state of evangelical repentance. No: a man who repents desires to be saved; but I desired it not. I was even impatient to go to my own place; and secretly wished that God would for a moment give me the exercise of His iron sceptre to break myself to pieces as a vessel to dishonour. A bitter and cruel zeal against myself, and all the sinners who were with me, filled all my thoughts and all my desires. The devil, who well knew how to improve the opportunity, blew, without ceasing, the sparks of some corruptions, which I thought were extinguished, or at the point of being so, till at last the fire began to appear without. This opened my eyes, and I felt it was time to implore succour.
“It is now eight days since I endeavoured to pray, but almost without success. Yesterday, however, as I sang one of your hymns, the Lord lifted up my head, and commanded me to face my enemies. By His grace I am already a conqueror; and I doubt not that I shall soon be more than conqueror.
“Although I deserve it not, nevertheless hold up my hands till all these Amalekites be put to flight.
“I am, etc.,
J. Fletcher.”[47]
Certainly this was strange, perhaps unparalleled experience. Paul wrote, “I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh.” John Fletcher seemed to wish for this, that God might be glorified. “A fit of melancholy,” says the reader; “almost insanity.” That, however, is sooner said than proved. Fletcher had a great work to do, and, as in the case of his Divine Master, temptations helped to prepare him for it. Weeks after the date of the foregoing letter, he continued to write bitter things against himself. The following letter has not before been published; it was addressed “to Mrs. Ryan, at the Room in the Horse-Fair, Bristol:”—
“Tern, September 5, 1759.
“My Sister,—I have often been with you in spirit, desiring to follow you as you follow Christ; and I trust you have put up some petitions for me, that I may not run in vain, but may at last apprehend that for which I am apprehended.
“I have been taught many lessons—by man, self, and Satan—since I saw you, but doubt I am not much nearer wisdom, unless it is in this point—that I am more foolish in my own eyes. I groan to be so often diverted from the pursuit of the one thing needful; but unfaithfulness, levity, unbelief, taint those groans, and make me question their sincerity and mine. Will you try once more to spur me out of my haltings? Send me an account of the struggles you went through before you found rest. What degree of joy, fear, hope, sorrow, doubting, fervency or coldness of desire in soul and body—waking, working, and sleeping?
“Remember me to Miss Furley.[48] Were I less averse to writing, I would have written to her, to beg her not to faint at any time, but be a zealous follower of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises; but I trust she does not want the advice as often as I do. Let me know how she does in the Lord and in the flesh, and desire her to remember me at the throne of grace. Adieu.
“John Fletcher.”
Charles Wesley proposed that, during the ensuing Parliamentary session, Fletcher should be paid for his services in the London chapels. In the same spirit of self-abasement as is displayed in the foregoing letters, Fletcher replied as follows:—
“September 14, 1759.
“My Dear Sir,—A few days ago, the Lord gave me two or three lessons on poverty of spirit, but, alas! how have I forgotten them! I saw, I felt, that I was entirely void of wisdom and virtue. I was ashamed of myself; and I could say, with a degree of feeling which I cannot describe, ‘Nil ago; nil habeo; sum nil; in pulvero serpo.’ I could then say what Gregory Lopez was enabled to say at all times, ‘There is no man of whom I have not a better opinion than of myself.’ I could have placed myself under the feet of the most atrocious sinner, and have acknowledged him for a saint in comparison of myself. If ever I am humble and patient, if ever I enjoy solid peace of mind, it must be in this very spirit. Ah! why do I not find these virtues? Because I am filled with self-sufficiency, which blinds me and hinders me from doing justice to my own demerits. O pray that the spirit of Jesus may remove these scales from my eyes for ever, and compel me to retire into my own nothingness.
“To what a monstrous idea had you well-nigh given birth. What! the labours of my ministry under you deserve a salary! I, who have done nothing but dishonour God hitherto, and am not in a condition to do anything else for the future! If, then, I am permitted to stand in the courts of the Lord’s house, is it not for me to make an acknowledgment, rather than to receive one? If I ever receive anything of the Methodist Church, it shall be only as an indigent mendicant receives alms, without which he would perish. Such were some of the thoughts which passed through my mind with regard to the proposal you made to me in London; and I doubt whether my own vanity, or your goodness, will be able to efface the impressions they have left.
“I have great need of your advice relative to the letters which I receive from my relations, who unite in their invitations to me to return to my own country. One says, to settle my affairs there; another, to preach there; a third, to assist him to die. They press me to declare whether I renounce my family, and the demands I have upon it. My mother, in the strongest terms, commands me at least to go and see her. What answer shall I make? If she thought as you do, I should write to her, ‘Ubi Christiani, ibi patria;’ ‘my mother, my brethren, my sisters, are those who do the will of my heavenly Father;’ but she is not in a state of mind to digest such an answer. I have no inclination to yield to their desires, which appear to me merely natural, for I should lose precious time and incur expense. My presence is not absolutely necessary to my concerns; and it is more probable that my relations will pervert me to vanity and interest, than that I shall convert them to genuine Christianity. Lastly, I should have no opportunity to exercise my ministry. Our Swiss ministers, who preach only once a week, would not look upon me with a more favourable eye than the ministers here, and would only cause me either to be laid in prison or to be immediately banished from the country.
“Permit me to thank you for the sentence from Kempis, with which you close your letter, by returning you another. ‘You run no risk in considering yourself as the wickedest of men, but you are in danger if you prefer yourself to any one.’”[49]
A fortnight later, Fletcher wrote again to Charles Wesley as follows:—
“Tern, September 29, 1759.
“What you say about reducing a mother to despair has made me recollect, what I have often thought, that the particular fault of the Swiss is to be without natural affection. With respect to that preference which my mother shows me above her other children, I see clearly I am indebted for almost all the affection she expresses for me in her letters to my absence from her, which hinders her from seeing my faults. Nevertheless, I reproach myself severely, that I cannot interest myself in her welfare as much as I did in that of my deceased father. I am astonished at the difference. I believe the time is not yet come when my presence may be of service to her; and I flatter myself she will not be shocked at my refusal, which I have softened as much as I could.
“I fear you did not rightly understand what I wrote about the proposal you made me at London. So far from making conditions, I feel myself unworthy of receiving them. I trouble myself with no temporal things; my only fear is that of having too much, rather than too little, of the necessaries of life. I am weary of abundance. I could wish myself to be poor with my Saviour. Those whom He hath chosen to be rich in faith, appear to me objects of envy in the midst of their wants.”[50]
Fletcher wanted no salary for preaching in Methodist chapels; and, for the present, he refused to return to Switzerland. His reason for the latter might have been more filially expressed; but no one will doubt his sincerity, or that his motives were not pure. The next letter, written two days later, was addressed to Sarah Ryan, Wesley’s housekeeper at Bristol, and to her friend, Dorothy Furley. It is too full of eloquent piety to be abridged.
“October 1, 1759.
“Dear Sisters,—I have been putting off writing to you, lest the action of writing should divert my soul from the awful and delightful worship it is engaged in. But I now conclude I shall be no loser, if I invite you to love Him my soul loveth; to dread Him my soul dreadeth; to adore Him my soul adoreth.
“Sink with me before the throne of grace; and, while the cherubim veil their faces, and cry out in tender fear and exquisite trembling, ‘Holy! Holy! Holy!’ let us put our mouths in the dust, and echo back the solemn sound, ‘Holy! Holy! Holy!’ Let us plunge ourselves in that ocean of purity. Let us try to fathom the depths of Divine mercy; and, convinced of the impossibility of such an attempt, let us lose ourselves in them. Let us be comprehended by God, if we cannot comprehend Him. Let us be supremely happy in God. Let the intenseness of our happiness border upon misery, because we can make Him no return. Let our head become waters, and our eyes a fountain of tears,—tears of humble repentance, of solemn joy, of silent admiration, of exalted adoration, of raptured desires, of inflamed transports, of speechless awe. My God and my all! Your God and your all! Our God and our all! Praise Him! With our souls blended into one by Divine love, let us with one mouth glorify the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ; our Father, who is over all, through all, and in us all.
“I charge you before the Lord Jesus, who giveth life and more abundant life; I entreat you by all the actings of faith, the stretchings of hope, the flames of love you have ever felt, sink to greater depths of self-abasing repentance; rise to greater heights of Christ-exalting joy. And let Him, who is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that you can ask or think, carry on, and fulfil in you the work of faith with power; with that power whereby He subdueth all things unto Himself. Be steadfast in hope, immovable in patience and love, always abounding in the outward and inward labour of love; and receive the end of your faith, the salvation of your souls.
“I am, dear sisters, your well-wisher,
“John Fletcher.”[51]
Mr. Benson inclines to think that it was at this period that Fletcher first preached at Madeley. The Rev. Mr. Chambers was the vicar, and frequently desired the tutor of Mr. Hill’s sons to assist him in his ministerial duties. Tern Hall was ten miles from Madeley, and one of Mr. Hill’s grooms was ordered to have a horse ready for Fletcher’s use every Sunday morning. So great, however, was his aversion to giving trouble to any one, that, if the groom did not awake at the proper time, he seldom would suffer him to be called; but prepared the horse for himself.[52]
Parliament was opened on November 13, when, as usual, Mr. Hill and his family repaired to London. Two days afterwards, Fletcher wrote the following to Charles Wesley:—
“London, November 15, 1759.
“My Dear Sir,—Your letter was not put into my hands till eight days after my arrival in London. I carried the enclosed to its address, and passed three hours with a modern prodigy,—an humble and pious countess. I went with trembling, and in obedience to your orders; but I soon perceived a little of what the disciples felt when Christ said to them, ‘It is I, be not afraid.’
“Her ladyship proposed to me something of what you hinted to me in your garden,—namely, to celebrate the communion sometimes at her house of a morning, and to preach when occasion offered,—in such a manner, however, as not to restrain my liberty, nor to prevent me assisting you, or preaching to the French refugees; and that only till Providence should clearly point out the path in which I should go. Charity, politeness, and reason accompanied her offer; and I confess, in spite of the resolution, which I had almost absolutely formed, to fly the houses of the great, without even the exception of the Countess’s, I found myself so greatly changed, that I should have accepted, on the spot, her ladyship’s proposal; but my engagement with you withheld me; and, after thanking her, I said, when I had reflected on her obliging offer, I would do myself the honour of waiting upon her again.
“Nevertheless, two difficulties stand in my way. Will it be consistent with the poverty of spirit, which I seek? Can I accept an office for which I have such small talents? And shall I not dishonour the cause of God, by stammering out the mysteries of the Gospel in a place where the most approved ministers of the Lord have preached with so much power, and so much success? What think you?
“I give myself up to your judicious counsels. I feel myself unworthy of them; much more still of the appellation of friend, with which you honour me. You are an indulgent father to me, and the name of son suits me better than that of brother.”[53]
It hardly need be added, that the “modern prodigy,” the “humble and pious Countess,” was Lady Huntingdon, to whom Wesley had introduced Fletcher nearly two years before. Her ladyship’s proposal really amounted to this, that, without at all interfering with his preaching for the Wesley brothers, and with his labours among the French prisoners and refugees, Fletcher should act as one of her domestic chaplains. Charles Wesley’s reply to Fletcher’s inquiries has not been preserved; but there can be no doubt it was favourable, for such was Fletcher’s profound respect for Methodism’s poet, that, if he had, in the least, disapproved of the Countess’s offer, it would most certainly have been declined. “I am so assured of your salvation,” wrote Fletcher, in the letter from which the foregoing is extracted, “that I ask no other place in heaven, than that I may have at your feet. I doubt even if Paradise would be Paradise to me, unless it were shared with you.” This language was extravagant; but it shows the high admiration in which Fletcher, at this time, held one who might be justly called his dearest and most confidential friend. The proposal of the Countess of Huntingdon was accepted; and Fletcher opened his commission to the great and honourable in her ladyship’s drawing-room, in the lowly spirit of St. Paul, “Unto me, who am less than the least of all saints, is this grace given, that I should preach the unsearchable riches of Christ.” During the ensuing winter, he preached in Wesley’s London chapels, as usual; and, alternately with the Wesley brothers and other clergymen, he preached in the houses of Lady Huntingdon, Lady Gertrude Hotham, and Lady Frances Shirley, generally once, and frequently twice, in every week.[54]
The French prisoners and refugees have been mentioned. Unfortunately, there are no details preserved of the extent and success of Fletcher’s labours among those pitiable sojourners; but there can be no doubt that it was for their instruction and benefit, that Fletcher, in 1759, published a sermon in the French language, entitled, “Discours sur la Regeneration. Imprime à Londre l’an 1759.” 12mo, 48 pp. His sermon is founded upon John iii. 3, “Jesus answered and said unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” At the end of the discourse are two short poems, in French, with the titles, “Sentiments d’une Ame que la Grace régénère;” and “Le Bonheur de l’homme Régénère.” The subject and substance of the whole may be gathered from the brief preface, of which the following is a translation:—
“Some prejudiced persons having caused it to be reported that I preach a dangerous doctrine, you will be able to judge as to that, with a knowledge of the case, by reading this discourse on Regeneration.
“I beg you to read, in addition, some short pamphlets which have just appeared, and which are entitled, ‘The Nature and Design of Christianity;’[55] ‘Salvation by Faith;’[56] and ‘Awake thou that sleepest.’[57] I recommend these three works for your examination, because, although I am not the author of them, they contain the sentiments which I wish to see engraven in our hearts, as they were in the heart of St. Paul.
“If you find here the religion of Christ, give the glory to God, and let it be found in the depths of your own souls; but, if you find anything contrary to the Holy Scriptures and the purity of Christianity, I pray you, in the name of the Lord, to point it out to me. Conduct so kind will sensibly oblige your servant in Christ,
“J. De la Flechere.”
With the exception of a tract, entitled “A Christmas Box for Journeymen and Apprentices,” which, Wesley says, was printed and circulated in 1758, this “Discours sur la Regeneration” was Fletcher’s earliest publication.
During the first three months of 1760, Fletcher enjoyed sweet intercourse with his beloved and confidential friend, Charles Wesley. The latter relates that he forgot his birthday till Fletcher’s prayer put him in mind of it. He and Fletcher had conversations respecting the doctrine of assurance, which they both held, but which they thought had not been sufficiently guarded. In a letter, dated March 16, 1760, Charles observes,—“God has remarkably owned the Word since Mr. Fletcher and I changed our manner of preaching it.”[58]
At this period, the Methodists of London took a profound interest in the fate of Earl Ferrars, brother of the Rev. Walter Shirley, and cousin of the Countess of Huntingdon. This profligate nobleman had murdered his steward, and was now awaiting his trial by the Peers of England. The unhappy culprit was executed on the 5th of May. Many were the prayers offered for his conversion. A day of fasting was kept at the Foundery.
“Yesterday,” wrote Charles Wesley, on April 4, “many met me in the chapel (West-street), to join in prayer for the murderer. Till 4 p.m. we continued looking upon Him whom we had pierced. I never remember a more solemn season. I carried Mr. Shirley and his sister to Mrs. Herritage’s, where Mr. Fletcher helped us to pray for poor Barabbas, as he calls him. Again the spirit made intercession for him with groans unutterable. Our watch-night lasted from seven to half-past ten. My text was, ‘Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by? Behold, and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow,’ etc. (Lamentations of Jeremiah i. 12). The Word was sent, I believe, to many hearts. Mr. Fletcher seconded it. We both prayed after God, particularly for the criminal. The chapel was excessively crowded, and therefore very hot. Miss Shirley carried me to my lodgings. It was past eleven before John Fletcher and I got to rest.”[59]
The last words of this extract almost indicate that Charles Wesley and Fletcher were living together, in the same house; but, be that as it may, there cannot be a doubt of the warm friendship that existed between them.
Besides preaching in Wesley’s London chapels, Fletcher occasionally preached for the Countess of Huntingdon, at Brighton.[60] He also visited Berridge at Everton. Hence the following, addressed to Charles Wesley:—
“Dunstable, March 1, 1760.
“My Dear Sir,—I have had a pleasant journey as to my body, but an unhappy one for my soul. Everything required that I should cry without ceasing, ‘Lord, be merciful to me a sinner!’ but, alas! I have not done so. The fine weather invites me to execute a design, I had half formed, of making a forced march to spend next Sunday at Everton, Mr. Berridge’s parish. May the voice of the Lord there be heard by a poor child of Adam, who, like him, is still behind the trees of his stupidity and impenitence!
“If I do not lose myself across the fields before I get there, and if the Lord is pleased to grant me the spirit of supplication, I will pray for you, until I can again pray with you. Don’t forget me, I beseech you. I would fain be with you on those solemn occasions, when a thousand voices are raised to heaven to obtain those graces which I have not; but God’s will be done!
“Don’t forget to present my respects to the Countess. If I continue any time at Everton, I shall take the liberty of giving her some account of the work of God in these parts; if not, I will give it her in person. Adieu.
“John Fletcher.”[61]
Strange scenes had recently been witnessed at Everton and in the surrounding country; and it is not surprising that Fletcher was desirous of seeing what the hand of God had wrought. His visit was a memorable one. On arriving, he introduced himself to Berridge “as a new convert, who had taken the liberty to wait upon him for the benefit of his instruction and advice.” Berridge, perceiving he was a foreigner, asked what countryman he was.
“A Swiss, from the canton of Berne,” was the reply.
“From Berne! then probably you can give me some account of a young countryman of yours, John Fletcher, who has lately preached a few times for the Messrs. Wesley, and of whose talents, learning, and piety, they both speak in terms of high eulogy. Do you know him?”
“Yes, sir, I know him intimately; and did those gentlemen know him as well they would not speak so highly of him. He is more obliged to their partial friendship than to his own merits.”
“You surprise me,” said Berridge.
“I have the best reason for speaking of John Fletcher as I do. I am John Fletcher.”
“If you be John Fletcher,” replied Berridge, “you must take my pulpit to-morrow.”[62]
Thus began Fletcher’s acquaintance with Berridge. No doubt he preached at Everton, for strong-willed Berridge was wont to have his way. It is probable that Fletcher communicated what he had seen and heard to the Countess of Huntingdon. At all events, it is said, her ladyship, accompanied by Martin Madan and Henry Venn, hastened to join him there. On the morning after their arrival, at seven o’clock, Berridge preached to an enormous congregation, assembled in a field near his church. At eleven, in the church, Mr. Hicks read prayers, and Venn explained the “joy that is in heaven over one sinner that repenteth.” In the afternoon, to an amazing multitude gathered from all parts of the surrounding country, Martin Madan cried, in the open air, “If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink.” Next day, in the morning, Fletcher read prayers, and Madan preached from “Ye must be born again,” the church being crowded to excess, and the windows filled within and without. In the afternoon, the prayers were read by Berridge, and Venn enforced the words, “This is life eternal, to know Thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom Thou hast sent.” Large numbers being unable to gain admission to the church, Berridge addressed those outside from, “Seek the Lord while He may be found; call upon Him while He is near.” The third day’s services were even more remarkable than the previous ones. It was calculated that, in the small village of Everton, ten thousand persons were assembled to hear the Word of God, and to join in His holy services. The number is almost incredible; and picturesque must have been the travelling tribes as they journeyed to this “hill of Zion.” Venn preached, of course, in the open air, from the text, “The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved.” The huge congregation was deeply affected, and several persons, both men and women, fell to the ground and wept bitterly. The afternoon congregation was even greater than that in the morning. At night, Berridge was the preacher, and selected as his text, “Behold the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world.” Towards the close of his sermon, five persons “sunk down as dead;” and others cried with a loud and bitter cry, “What must we do to be saved?” Berridge concluded his discourse; and these memorable three days’ services were finished by the assembled thousands, the Countess, and the five clergymen, all joining in singing Wesley’s noble hymn,—
“Arm of the Lord, awake, awake!
Thine own immortal strength put on!
With terror clothed, hell’s kingdom shake,
And cast Thy foes with fury down!
“As in the ancient days appear!
The sacred annals speak Thy fame:
Be now omnipotently near,
To endless ages still the same.
“Thy arm, Lord, is not shortened now,
It wants not now the power to save;
Still present with Thy people, Thou
Bear’st them through life’s disparted wave.
“By death and hell pursued in vain,
To Thee the ransomed seed shall come,
Shouting their heavenly Sion gain,
And pass through death triumphant home.
“The pain of life shall there be o’er,
The anguish and distracting care,
There sighing grief shall weep no more,
And sin shall never enter there.
“Where pure, essential joy is found,
The Lord’s redeemed their heads shall raise,
With everlasting gladness crowned,
And filled with love, and lost in praise.”[63]
What pen can adequately describe this grand outburst of scriptural faith and Christian exultation? It was a scene that has not oft been equalled; and, no doubt, helped to increasingly qualify Fletcher for the great work that awaited him.
Fletcher’s duties as a tutor were now ended. The two sons of Mr. Hill had become undergraduates at Cambridge. Fletcher seems to have returned to Tern Hall; but, as a new Parliament was about to be elected, Mr. Hill objected to the ordained tutor preaching in the neighbourhood of the Hall, because his well-known Methodist proclivities might raise a stumbling-block at the polling-booths. Hence the following extract from a letter addressed to the Countess of Huntingdon:—
“Tern, September 6, 1760.
“The fear Mr. Hill has, that I should lessen his interest at Shrewsbury at the next election,—the shyness of the neighbouring clergy,—and the want I feel of an ordination from the great Shepherd and Bishop of my soul, will probably prevent my preaching at all in the country. O may the Spirit of God preach the Gospel to my heart!
“Generous as you are, Madam, I believe you would have saved me the shame of receiving the present you made me at Paddington, had you foreseen the uneasy thoughts it raised in my heart. ‘Is not this making godliness a gain? Can I in conscience receive what is devoted to the poor when I am not in actual want?’ I am not ashamed of living upon charity, but to receive it, without being an immediate object of charity, gives me more uneasiness than want could possibly do. And now I am deprived, for many months, of the unspeakable advantage of living upon Providence, and must live upon a stock, as well as the rich of this world! Is not this a lesson? And does not your generosity, Madam, bid me look to Jesus for poverty of spirit, without which all outward acts are nothing but pride, sin, misery, and lies?
“I am, with gratitude and shame, your ladyship’s unworthy servant,
“J. Fletcher.”[64]
Fletcher was without employment. What was the best course to take? He might have permanently united himself to the Wesley brothers; or he might have devoted himself to the congregations of the Countess of Huntingdon. But another path was marked out for him by an unerring Providence. He had been of great service to the sons of Mr. Hill; and Mr. Hill was desirous of promoting his preferment. The living of Dunham, in Cheshire, was now vacant, and Mr. Hill informed Fletcher that it was at his service. “The parish,” said he, “is small, the duty light, the income good (£400 per annum), and it is situated in a fine, healthy, sporting country.” “Alas!” replied Fletcher, “alas, Sir, Dunham will not suit me; there is too much money, and too little labour.” “Few clergymen make such objections,” rejoined Mr. Hill. “It is a pity to decline such a living, especially as I know not that I can find you another. What shall we do? Would you like Madeley?” “That, Sir,” said Fletcher, “would be the very place for me.” “My object,” answered Mr. Hill, “is to make you comfortable in your own way. If you prefer Madeley, I shall find no difficulty in persuading Mr. Chambers to exchange it for Dunham, which is worth more than twice as much as Madeley.”[65]
An arrangement was soon made. Mr. Hill’s nephew was the patron of the Madeley living; and Mr. Hill himself the patron of that of Dunham. The uncle and nephew met at Shrewsbury races, and there, on a racecourse, of all places in the world, it was settled that the Madeley living should be offered to Fletcher. The presentation was made; but Fletcher, at the last moment, hesitated to accept it, and wrote to his friend Charles Wesley as follows:—
“Tern, September 26, 1760.
“A fortnight ago, the minister of this parish, with whom I have had no connection for these two years, sent me word (I know not why) that his pulpit should be at my service at any time.
“Some days after, I ventured a visit of civility to the vicar of a neighbouring parish, who fell out with me, three years ago, for preaching faith in his church. He received me with the greatest kindness, and said often, he would have me take the care of souls somewhere or other.
“Last Sunday, the vicar of Madeley, to whom I was formally curate, coming to pay a visit here, expressed great regard for me; seemed to be quite reconciled: and assured me, that he would do all he could to serve me; of which he yesterday gave me a proof, by sending me a testimonial unasked.
“He was no sooner gone, than news was brought that the old clergyman” (at Dunham) “died suddenly the day before; and that same day, before I heard it, Mr. Hill, meeting, at the races, his nephew, who is patron of Madeley, told him, if he would present me to Madeley, he would give the vicar of that parish the living vacated by the old clergyman’s death. This was immediately agreed to, as Mr. Hill himself informed me in the evening, wishing me joy.
“You have repeatedly advised me not to resist Providence, but to follow its leadings. I am, however, inwardly in suspense. My heart revolts at the idea of being here alone, opposed by my superiors, hated by my neighbours, and despised by all the world. Without piety, without talents, without resolution, how shall I repel the assaults, and surmount the obstacles which I foresee, if I discharge my duty at Madeley with fidelity? On the other hand, to reject this presentation, to burn this certificate, and to leave in the desert the sheep whom the Lord has evidently brought me into the world to feed, appears to me nothing but obstinacy and refined self-love. I will hold a middle course between these extremes: I will be wholly passive in the steps I must take; and active in praying the Lord to deliver me from the evil one, and to conduct me in the way He would have me to go.
“If you see anything better, inform me of it speedily; and, at the same time, remember me in all your prayers, that, if this matter be not of the Lord, the enmity of the Bishop of Lichfield, who must countersign my testimonials; the threats of the chaplain of the Bishop of Hereford, who was a witness to my preaching at West Street; the objections drawn from my not being naturalized; or some other obstacle, may prevent the kind intentions of Mr. Hill.”[66]
Within a week after the date of this communication, several of Fletcher’s anticipated obstacles were gone. Hence the following, from a letter addressed to the Countess of Huntingdon, who was visiting the Rev. Benjamin and Lady Margaret Ingham, in Yorkshire:—
“1760, October 3.—Were I to have my choice, I would prefer waiting at the pool under your roof, or that of those who think like you, to any other way of life; and I will own to your ladyship, that the thought of giving this up is one of the chief difficulties I have now to encounter. But I seem to be a prisoner of Providence, who is going, in all probability, to cast my lot among the colliers and forge-men of Madeley. The two thousand souls of that parish, for whom I was called into the ministry, are many sheep in the wilderness, which I cannot sacrifice to my own private choice.
“When I was suffered to attend them, for a few days, some began to return to the Shepherd of their souls, and I found it then in my heart to spend and be spent for them. It is true, when I was sent away from them, that zeal cooled to such a degree, that I have wished a thousand times they might never be committed to my care; but the impression of the tears of those who, when I left them, ran after me crying, ‘Who will now show us the way to heaven?’ never quite wore off, and, upon second thoughts, I always concluded that, if the Lord made my way plain to their church, I could not run away from it without disobeying the order of Providence.
“That time is come. The church is vacated; the presentation to it brought, unasked for, into my hands; the difficulty of getting proper testimonials, which I looked upon as insurmountable, vanishes at once; the three clergymen that had opposed me with the most bitterness, signed them; the Bishop of Lichfield countersigns them without the least objection; the lord of the manor, my great opposer, leaves the parish; and the very man (the vicar), who told me I should never preach in that church, now recommends me to it, and tells me he will induct me himself.
“Are not these intimations of the will of God? It seems so to me. What does your ladyship think? I long to go and consult you in Yorkshire, but cannot do it now, without giving up the point on which I want your advice.”[67]
There is, or, at least, there used to be, in the parish vestry at Madeley, a book containing the following inscription:—“John Fletcher, clerk, was inducted to the vicarage of Madeley, the 17th of October, 1760. John Fletcher, vicar.”
The deed was done. Wesley had strongly opposed his acceptance of the Madeley living, telling him that to take a living was not his calling. Charles Wesley’s advice is unknown; but, probably, it was the reverse of his brother’s. John desired and greatly needed the help of an ordained clergyman, not only to preach, but to administer the sacraments to the multiplying Methodists. He tried to retain Fletcher, a minister to his own heart’s content; but he failed. It was well he did. In the itinerancy, Fletcher’s time for reading and study would have been extremely limited. At Madeley, he had abundance of leisure for both, and, during the next ten years, acquired that theological wealth, which, in the hour of need, enabled him to be of the greatest service to Wesley, by the writing of his unanswerable “Checks to Antinomianism.”
Wesley’s opposition is mentioned in the following extracts from two letters addressed to the Countess of Huntingdon:—
”1760, October 28. All the little circumstances of my institution and induction have taken such an easy turn, that I question whether any clergyman ever got over them with less trouble. I preached last Sunday, for the first time, in my church, and shall continue to do so, though I propose staying with Mr. Hill till he leaves the country, which will be, I suppose, in a fortnight, partly to comply with him to the last, and partly to avoid falling out with my predecessor, who is still at Madeley, but who will remove about the same time.
”Among many little providences, I shall mention one to your ladyship. The Bishop having unexpectedly sent me word to go to him for institution without delay, if I wished not to be at the trouble of following him to London, I set out in haste for Hereford, where I arrived the day before his lordship’s departure. As I went along, I thought that if my going to Madeley was from the Lord, it was providential that I should thus be called to be instituted in the country, for were it to be in London, Sir Peter Rivers, the Bishop’s chaplain, who examined me for orders, and who made so much noise last summer in West Street Chapel, where he found me preaching, would infallibly defeat the end of my journey, according to his threatenings. Thus did worldly wisdom work in my heart; but no divination can stand against the God of Jacob, who is a jealous God, and does not give His glory to another. A clergyman, named Sir Dutton Colt, came to see the Bishop just as I entered the palace, and the secretary, coming to him, said in my hearing, ‘Sir Peter is just come from London to take possession of a prebend, which the Bishop has given him; he is now in the palace; how do you rank with him?’ My surprise was great, for a moment, and my first thought was to ride away without institution; but, having gone too far to retreat, I had an instant strength from on high to be still and see the salvation of the Lord. My second thought was to thank God for sending this man from London in that point of time to defeat Mr. Hill’s design; and, easily throwing up Madeley, I cried for strength to make a good confession before the high priest and the scribe; and I felt I had it, but I was not called to use it, for the Bishop was alone, the ceremony was over in ten minutes, and Sir Peter did not come in till after. I met him at the door of the Bishop’s room, and a wig I had on that day prevented his recollecting who I was. Your ladyship cannot conceive how thankful I was for this little incident, not because I was not disappointed of a living, but because I saw and felt, that, had I been disappointed, it would have been no disappointment to me.
”If I know anything of myself, I shall be much more ready to resign my benefice, when I have had a fair trial of my unprofitableness to the people committed to my care, than I was to accept it. Mr. John Wesley bids me do it without a trial. He will have me ‘see the devil’s snare, and fly from it at the peril of my soul.’ I answer, I cannot see it in that light. He adds, ‘Others may do well in a living; you cannot; it is not your calling.’ I tell him, I readily own that I am not fit to plant or water any part of the Lord’s vineyard; but that if I am called at all, I am called to preach at Madeley, where I was first sent into the ministry, and where a chain of providences, I could not break, has again fastened me; and that, though I may be as unsuccessful as Noah, yet I am determined to try to be there a preacher of Christ’s righteousness; and that, notwithstanding my inability, I am not without hopes, that He who reproved a prophet’s madness by the mouth of an ass, may reprove a collier’s profaneness even by my mouth.
”I reserve for another letter an account of my own soul, and of what begins to be as dear to me as my own soul—my parish.”[68]
The other letter, here promised, was written three weeks later. The following is an extract from it:—
“Tern, November 19, 1760.
“I have hitherto written my sermons, but I am carried so far beyond my notes when in the pulpit, that I propose preaching with only my sermon-case in my hand next Friday, when I shall venture on an evening lecture for the first time. I question whether I shall have above half-a-dozen hearers; but I am resolved to try.
“The weather and the roads are so bad, that the way to the church is almost impracticable; nevertheless all the seats were full last Sunday. Some begin to come from adjacent parishes, and some more (as they say) threaten to come when the season permits.
“I cannot yet discern any deep work, or indeed anything but what will always attend the crying down of man’s righteousness, and the insisting upon Christ’s—I mean a general liking among the poor; and offence, ridicule, and opposition among the ‘reputable’ and ‘wise’ people. Should the Lord vouchsafe to plant the Gospel in this county, my parish seems to be the best spot for the centre of such a work, as it lies among the most populous, profane, and ignorant.
“But it is well if, after all, there is any work in my parish. I despair even of this, when I look at myself, and quite fall in with Mr. John Wesley’s opinion about me; though I sometimes hope the Lord has not sent me here for nothing. I am, however, fully determined to resign my living, if the Lord does not think me worthy to be His instrument. I abhor the title of a living for a living’s sake; it is death to me.
“There are three meetings in my parish—a Papist, Quaker, and Baptist, and they begin to call the fourth the Methodist one—I mean the Church. But the bulk of the inhabitants are stupid heathens, who seem past all curiosity, as well as all sense of godliness. I am ready to run after them into their pits and forges, and I only wait for Providence to show me the way. I am often reduced to great perplexity; but the end of it is sweet. I am driven to the Lord, and He comforts, encourages, and teaches me. I sometimes feel that zeal which forced Paul to wish to be accursed for his brethren’s sake; but I want to feel it without interruption. The devil, my friends, and my heart have pushed at me to make me fall into worldly cares and creature snares,—first, by the thoughts of marrying; then, by the offers of several boarders, one of whom, a Christian youth, offered me £60 a year; but I have been enabled to cry, ‘Nothing but Jesus, and the service of His people;’ and I trust the Lord will keep me in the same mind.”[69]
In such a way and spirit did Fletcher begin his ministry of twenty-five years’ duration at Madeley. Comment on his simple and honest letters is unnecessary; it would be uninstructive meddling, which would try the reader’s patience.