WHEN the travellers arrived at Dover, Fletcher wrote as follows to his hospitable friends at Stoke Newington:—
“Ten thousand blessings light upon the heads and hearts of my dear benefactors, Charles and Mary Greenwood! May their quiet retreat at Newington become a Bethel to them! Their poor pensioner travels on, though slowly, towards the grave. His journey to the sea seems to him to have hastened, rather than retarded, his progress to his old mother—Earth. May every Providential blast blow him nearer to the heavenly haven of his Saviour’s breast; where he hopes to meet all his benefactors! O, my dear friends, what shall I render? What to Jesus? what to you? May He, who invites the heavy-laden, take upon Him all the burdens of kindness you have heaped on your Lazarus! And may angels, when you die, find me in Abraham’s bosom, and bring you into mine, that by all the kindness which may be shown in heaven, I may try to requite that you have shown to your obliged brother,
Leaving Calais on December 12, 1777, the travellers pursued their way to the South of France. Mr. Ireland thus described the journey:—
“When we departed from Calais, the north wind was very high, and penetrated us even in the chaise. We put up at Bretuil, and the next day got to Abbeville, whence we were forced, by the miserable accommodation we met with, to set out, though it was Sunday. Hitherto Mr. Fletcher and I had led the way, but now the other chaises got before us. Nine miles from Abbeville our axletree gave way through the hard frost, and we were left to the piercing cold on the side of a hill, without shelter. After waiting an hour and a half, we sent the axletree and wheels back to be repaired; and, leaving the body of the chaise under a guard, procured another to carry us to the next town. On the 15th, our chaise arrived in good repair. The country was covered with snow, but travelling steadily forward, we reached Dijon on the 27th. During the whole journey, Mr. Fletcher showed marks of recovery. He bore both the fatigue and cold as well as the best of us. On the 31st, we put up at Lyons, and solemnly closed the year, bowing our knees before the throne, which indeed we did all together every day. January 4, 1778, we left Lyons, and came on the 9th to Aix. Here we rest, the weather being exceedingly fine and warm. Mr. Fletcher walks out daily. He is now able to read and pray with us every morning and evening. He has no remains of his cough nor of the weakness in his breast. His natural colour is restored, and the sallowness quite gone. His appetite is good, and he takes a little wine.”
In another letter Mr. Ireland wrote:—
“Soon after our arrival here, I rode out most days with my dear and valued friend. Now and then he complained of the uneasiness of the horse, and there were some remains of soreness in his breast; but this soon went off. The beginning of February was warm, and the warmth, when he walked in the fields, relaxed him; but when the wind got north or east, he was braced again. His appetite is good; his complexion as healthy as it was eleven years ago. As his strength increases, he increases the length of his rides. Last Tuesday, he set out on a journey of a hundred and twelve miles. The first day he travelled forty miles without feeling any fatigue; and the third day fifty-five. He bore the journey as well as I did; and was as well and as active at the end of it as at the beginning. During the day, he cried out, ‘Help me to praise the Lord for His goodness; I never expected to see this day.’ He accepted a pressing invitation to preach to the Protestants here; and he fulfilled his engagement on Sunday morning, taking as his text, ‘Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith.’ Both the French and English were greatly affected; the word went to the hearts of both saints and sinners. His voice is now as good as ever it was; and he has an earnest invitation to preach near Montpelier, where we are going. You would be astonished at the entreaties of pastors as well as people. He has received a letter from a minister in the Levine Mountains, who intends to come to Montpelier, sixty miles, to press him to go and preach to his flock. He purposes to spend the next summer in his own country, and the following winter in these parts.”[432]
It was probably at this time that Fletcher and Mr. Ireland made a tour through Italy, and visited Rome, concerning which visit Wesley writes:—
“While he was at Rome, as Mr. Ireland and he were one day going through the streets in a coach, they were informed the Pope was coming, and it would be required of them to kneel while he went by, as all the people did; if they did not, in all probability the mob would knock them on the head. But this they flatly refused to do; judging the paying such honour to a man was idolatry. The coachman was terrified, but turned aside into a narrow way. The Pope was in an open landau, waved his hands, and frequently repeated, ‘God bless you all!’ Mr. Fletcher’s spirit was greatly stirred, and he longed to bear a public testimony against anti-Christ; and he would have done it had he been able to speak Italian. He could hardly refrain from doing it in Latin, till he considered that only the priests could understand him.”[433]
While in the south of France, Fletcher wrote to Miss Bosanquet the following letter, which is now for the first time published:—
“Dear Madam,—Your letter did not reach me till after it had lain here, at the post office, several days.
“I cannot be answerable for what the person you mention thinks of Mr. Wesley or me, or our sentiments. Nothing is more common than to see people drawing rash inferences from premises which are partly false and partly true. I can only answer for myself, and for what I deem to be the truth.
“If you ask me what I think to be the truth with respect to Christian perfection, I reply, my sentiments are exposed to the world in my essay on ‘Christian Perfection,’ and in my essay on ‘Truth,’ where I lay the stress of the doctrine on the great promise of the Father, and on the Christian fulness of the Spirit. This I have done more particularly in a treatise on the ‘Birth of the Spirit;’ which treatise is not yet published. I do not rest the doctrine of Christian perfection on the absence of sin,—that is the perfection of a dove or a lamb; nor on the loving God with all one’s power, for I believe all perfect Gentiles and Jews have done so; but on the fulness of that superior, nobler, warmer, and more powerful love, which the Apostle calls the love of the Spirit, or the love of God shed abroad by the Holy Ghost, given to the Christian believers, who, since the Day of Pentecost, go on to the perfection of the Christian dispensation.
“You will find my views of this matter in Mr. Wesley’s sermons on Christian Perfection and on Spiritual Christianity; with this difference, that I would distinguish more exactly between the believers baptized with the Pentecostal power of the Holy Ghost, and the believer who, like the Apostles after our Lord’s ascension, is not yet filled with that power.
“I own to you, Madam, that I have been much surprised to see the gross inattention to, and unbelief of, the promise of the Father among believers of various classes. It is the sun among the stars, and yet some can hardly distinguish it. When I preached it to the Calvinists in Wales, they called it Mr. Wesley’s whim. When I have spoken of it to our brethren, some have called it Lady Huntingdon’s whim; and others have looked upon it as a new thing; which to me is the strongest proof that this capital Gospel doctrine is as much under a cloud now as the doctrine of justification by faith was at the time of the Reformation.
“Should you go back by way of London, my essay on the Birth by which we enter into the Kingdom in the Holy Ghost is in the hands of Miss Thornton, Mrs. Greenwood’s sister, who will give it you if you think worth while to look into it. I build my faith not on my experience, though this increases it, but upon the revealed truth of God. Go, Madam, and do the same, and pray for your affectionate brother and servant,
The “treatise,” or rather sermon, referred to in this letter, was written in French, and was not published during the lifetime of Fletcher; but in 1794, Henry Moore, one of Wesley’s first biographers, translated and printed it, with the title, “The New Birth. A Discourse written in French, by the Rev. John Fletcher, late Vicar of Madeley, Salop.” 8vo, 39 pp. This was one of the most remarkable productions of Fletcher’s pen; and great would be the service rendered to the cause of Christ if, in this day of loose thinking and carnal living, it were reprinted in a separate form, and read by the myriads who call themselves Methodists. Though mere quotations from it cannot do justice to it, yet two or three may be acceptable.
Regeneration.—“What is the state of a soul that is born again; and in what does regeneration consist? In general, we may say, it is that great change by which man passes from a state of nature to a state of grace. He was an animal man; in being born again he becomes a spiritual man. His natural birth had made him like to fallen Adam—to the old man, against whom God had pronounced the sentence of death, seeing it is the wages of sin; but his spiritual birth makes him like to Jesus Christ—to the new man—which is created according to God in righteousness and true holiness. He was before born a child of wrath—proud, sensual, and unbelieving, full of the love of the world and of self-love, a lover of money and of earthly glory and pleasure, rather than a lover of God; but, by regeneration, he is become a child and an heir of God, and a joint heir with Christ. The humility, the purity, the love of Jesus, is shed abroad in his heart by the Holy Spirit which is given to him, making him bear the image of the Second Adam. He is in Christ a new creature; old things are passed away, all things are become new. All the powers and faculties of his soul are renovated. His understanding, heretofore covered with darkness, is illuminated by the experimental knowledge which he has of God and of His Son Jesus Christ. His conscience, asleep and insensible, awakes and speaks with a fidelity irreproachable. His hard heart is softened and broken. His will, stubborn and perverse, yields, and becomes conformable to the will of God. His passions, unruly, and earthly, and sensual, submit to the conduct of grace, and turn of themselves to objects invisible and heavenly. And the members of his body, servants more or less to iniquity, are now employed in the service of righteousness unto holiness.”
Why regeneration is necessary.—“To rejoice in the pleasures that are at God’s right hand, it is needful to have senses and a taste that correspond thereto. The swine trample pearls under their feet. The elevated discourse of a philosopher is insupportable to a stupid mechanic; and an ignorant peasant, introduced into a circle of men of learning and taste, is disgusted, sighs after his village, and declares no hour ever appeared to him so long. It would be the same to a man who is not regenerated, if we could suppose that God would so far forget His truth as to open to him the gate of heaven. He would be incapable of those transports of love which make the happiness of the glorified saints. It would be insupportable for him now to meditate one hour on the perfections of God; what then shall He do among the cherubim and seraphim, and the spirits of just men made perfect, who draw from thence their ravishing delights? He loves the pleasures and comforts of an animal life; but are these the same with the exercises of the spiritual life? His conversations, his readings, his amusements, as void of edification as of usefulness, rarely fatigue him; but an hour of meditation or prayer is insufferable. If he be not born again, not only he cannot be in a state to rejoice in the pleasures of Paradise, any more than a deaf man to receive with transport the most exquisite music; but the ravishing delights of angels would cause in him an insupportable distaste. Yes, he would banish himself from the presence of God, rather than pass an eternity in prostrating himself before the throne, and crying day and night, Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts, who is, and who was, and who is to come! We conclude that the gate of heaven must be opened upon earth by regeneration, and by the love of God, or that it will remain shut for ever; and that a local paradise would be only a sorrowful prison, to a man not regenerated, because, carrying nothing thither but depraved and earthly appetites and passions, and finding nothing there but spiritual and celestial objects, disgust and dissatisfaction would be the consequence; and, like Satan, his own mind would be his hell.”
Perorations are too often rhetorical flourishes, and nothing more; but, in the case of Fletcher, they were the outpourings of a heart overcharged with feeling. The following is the last paragraph in the remarkable “Treatise” from which the foregoing extracts are taken:—
“I conjure you by the majesty of that God before whom angels rejoice with trembling;—by the terror of the Lord, who may speak to you in thunder, and this instant require your soul of you;—by the tender mercies, the bowels of compassion of your heavenly Father, which are moved in your favour, all ungrateful as you are!—I conjure you by the incarnation of the Eternal Word, by whom you were created;—by the humiliation, the pains, the temptations, the tears, the bloody sweat, the agony, the cries of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ!—I conjure you by the bonds, the insults, the scourgings, the robes of derision, the crown of thorns, the ponderous cross, the nails, the instruments of death which pierced His torn body; by the arrows of the Almighty, the poison of which drank up His spirit; by that mysterious stroke of Divine wrath, and by those unknown terrors which forced Him to exclaim, ‘My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken Me!’—I conjure you by the interests of your immortal soul, and by the unseen accidents which may precipitate you into eternity;—by the bed of death, upon which you will soon be stretched, and by the useless sighs which you will then pour out, if your peace be not made with God!—I conjure you by the sword of Divine justice, and by the sceptre of grace;—by the sound of the last trumpet, and by the sudden appearance of the Lord Jesus Christ, with ten thousand of His holy angels;—by that august tribunal, at which you will appear with me, and which shall decide our lot for ever;—by the vain despair of hardened sinners, and by the unknown transports of regenerate souls!—I conjure you from this instant work out your salvation with fear and trembling! Enter by the door into the sheepfold. Sell all to purchase the pearl of great price. Count all things dung and dross in comparison of the excellency of the knowledge of Jesus Christ. Let Him not go till He blesses you with that faith which justifies, and that sanctification without which no man shall see the Lord. And, soon transported from this vale of tears into the mansions of the just made perfect, you shall cast your crown of immortal glory at the feet of Him that sitteth upon the throne, and before the Lamb who has redeemed us by His blood: to whom be the blessing, and the honour, and the glory, and the power for ever and ever! Amen.”
It is time to return to Fletcher in the south of France. At the close of his sojourn here, he wrote as follows to his curate, Mr. Greaves:—
“My Very Dear Brother,—I received a letter yesterday from my second brother, who acquaints me, that he was to set out the 23rd of last month, to come hither” (Montpelier), “and take me to my native country, where my sick sister wants greatly to see me; so that, if it please God, I shall, next week, leave this place. The winter has been uncommonly rainy and windy; and even last week we had half an inch of snow. The climate has, nevertheless, agreed with me better than England, and, as a proof of it, I need only tell you, that I rode last Friday, from Hieres, the orange gardens of France, hither, which is nearly fifty miles, and was well enough to preach last Sunday in French at the Protestant Church. Two English clergymen came to hear me, and one of them takes these lines to England, where I hope they will find you in health of body and soul, growing in strength of faith, in firmness of hope, and in fervency of love to God and man, and especially to those whom you are tempted to think hardly of, if any such there be. O my dear brother, no religion will do us or our people any good, but that which ‘works by love,’—humble, childlike, obedient love. May that religion fill our souls, and influence all our tempers, words, and actions, and may the leaven leaven the whole lump! May St. James’s peaceable religion spread through all our parish!
“I hope you are settled to your satisfaction; and I shall be glad to do what is in my power to make your stay at Madeley agreeable. I wish you may have as much success as we desire; but, whatever success we have, we must cast our bread upon the waters, though we should see as little fruit as he that said of old, ‘I have laboured in vain:’ for our reward will be with the Lord, if not with men.”[434]
In company with his brother, Fletcher left Montpelier, and arrived at Nyon, the place of his nativity, where, in the house once occupied by his father, he received the utmost attention from his affectionate relatives, and had medical advice equal to any to be obtained in Europe. One of his first acts was to write “to the Societies in and about Madeley.” He addressed them as “My dear, very dear brethren;” charged them all to meet him in heaven, “with all the mind that was in Christ;” and sent his “love and thanks to Mr. Murlin and Mr. Roberts,” the two Methodist preachers stationed at Chester, showing that Madeley, at this period, was a part of the Chester circuit.[435]
Soon afterwards, he wrote to his beloved medical adviser, in England, Mr. William Perronet, as follows:—
“The climate, and prospect, and fine roads, and pure air I enjoy here, had contributed to strengthen me a little; when, about a month ago, something I was chewing got into my windpipe, and caused a fit of coughing which lasted half-an-hour. I then began to spit blood again, and ever since I have had a bad cough, which has sometimes exercised me violently for an hour after my first sleep. My cough, however, has been better the last two days, and I hope it will go off. I have bought a quiet horse, whose easy pace I can bear; and I ride much. I have not ventured upon preaching since I came hither: it would be impossible for me now to go through it. If the weather should grow hot, I may, at any time, go to the hills, the foot of which is five or six miles distant. I drink goats’ milk, and have left off meat since the cough came on, but design eating a little again at dinner.”[436]
Two days after the date of this letter, Fletcher was at Macon, whither he had gone to meet his friend Mr. Ireland, on his return from Montpelier to England. Whilst he was here, he wrote two letters, which must be quoted. The first, addressed to “The Rev. Messrs. John and Charles Wesley,” was as follows:—
“Rev. and Dear Sirs,—I hope while I lie by, the Lord continues to renew your vigour, and sends you to water His vineyard, and to stand in the gap against error and vice.
“I preached twice at Marseilles, but was not permitted to follow the blow. There are few noble, inquisitive Bereans in these parts. The ministers in the town of my nativity have been very civil. They have offered me the pulpit; but, I fear, if I could accept the offer, it would soon be recalled. I am loath to quit this part of the field without casting a stone at that giant, sin, who stalks about with uncommon boldness. I shall, therefore, stay some months longer, to see if the Lord will give me strength to venture an attack.
“Gambling and dress, sinful pleasure and love of money, unbelief and false philosophy, lightness of spirit, fear of man, and love of the world, are the principal sins by which Satan binds his captives in these parts. Materialism is not rare; Deism and Socinianism are very common; and a set of Free-thinkers, great admirers of Voltaire[437] and Rosseau, Bayle and Mirabeau, seem bent upon destroying Christianity and government. If we believe them, the world is the dupe of kings and priests. Religion is fanaticism and superstition. Subordination is slavery. Christian morality is absurd, unnatural, and impracticable; and Christianity the most bloody religion that ever was. And here it is certain, that, by the example of Christians so called, and by our continual disputes, they have a great advantage, and do the truth immense mischief. Popery will certainly fall in France, in this or the next century; and I have no doubt God will use those vain men to bring about a reformation here, as he used Henry the Eighth to do that work in England; so the madness of His enemies shall, at last, turn to His praise, and to the futherance of His kingdom.
“In the meantime, it becomes all lovers of the truth to make their heavenly tempers, and humble, peaceful love to shine before all men, that those mighty adversaries, seeing the good works of professors, may glorify their Father who is in heaven, and no more blaspheme that worthy name, by which we are all called Christians.
“If you ask, what system these men adopt? I answer, some build on Deism a morality founded on self-preservation, self-interest, and self-honour. Others laugh at all morality, except that which being neglected violently disturbs society. And external order is the decentdecent covering of Fatalism, while Materialism is their system.
“Oh, dear Sirs, let me entreat you, in these dangerous days, to use your wide influence, with unabated zeal, against the scheme of these modern Celsuses, Porphyries, and Julians, by calling all professors to think and speak the same things, to love and embrace one another, and to firmly resist those daring men; many of whom are already in England, headed by the admirers of Mr. Hume and Mr. Hobbes. But it is needless to say this to those who have made, and continue to make, such a stand for vital Christianity; so that I have nothing to do but pray that the Lord may abundantly support and strengthen you, and make you a continued comfort to His enlightened people, loving reprovers of those who mix light with darkness, and a terror to the perverse.
“I need not tell you, Sirs, that the hour in which Providence shall make my way plain to return to England, to unite with those who feel or seek the power of Christian godliness, will be welcome to me. O favoured Britons! Happy would it be for them, if they knew their Gospel privileges!
“My relations in Adam are all very kind to me; but the spiritual relations, whom God has raised me in England, exceed them yet. Thanks be to Christ, and to His blasphemed religion!
“I am, Rev. Sirs, your affectionate son, and obliged servant in the Gospel,
On the day after the date of this letter, Fletcher wrote the following to the Rev. Dr. Conyers, another Methodist Clergyman, to whom he had sent his “Reconciliation; or, an easy Method to unite the people of God,” published in 1777:—
“Hon. and Dear Sir,—I left orders, with a friend, to send you a little book called ‘The Reconciliation,’ in which I endeavour to bring nearer the children of God, who are divided about their partial views of divine truths. I know not whether that tract has, in any degree, answered its design; but I believe truth can be reconciled with itself, and the candid children of God one with another. O that some abler hand, and more loving heart, would undertake to mend my plan, or draw one more agreeable to the Word of God! My eyes are upon you, dear Sir, and those who are like-minded with you, for this work. Disappoint not my hope. Stand forth, and make way for reconciling love, by removing, so far as lies in you, what is in the way of brotherly union.
“O Sir! the work is worthy of you. If you saw with what boldness the false philosophers of the continent, who are the apostles of the age, attack Christianity, and represent it as one of the worst religions in the world, and fit only to make the professors of it murder one another, or at least to contend among themselves, and how they urge our disputes to make the Gospel of Christ the jest of nations, and the abhorrence of all flesh, you would break through your natural timidity, and invite all our brethren in the ministry to unite and form a close battalion, and face the common enemy.
“O dear Sir! take courage. Be bold for reconciling truth. Be bold for peace. You can do all things through Christ strengthening you; and, as Doctor Conyers, you can do many things, a great many more than you think. What if you go, Sir, in Christ’s name, to all the Gospel ministers of your acquaintance, exhort them as a father, entreat them as a brother, and bring them, or as many of them as you can, together? Think you that your labour would be in vain in the Lord? Impossible, Sir! O despair not. If you want a coach, or a friend to accompany you, when you go upon this errand of love, remember there is a Thornton in London, and an Ireland in Bristol, who will wish you God speed; and God will raise many more to concur in the peaceful work.
“Let me humbly entreat you to go to work, and to persevere in it. I wish I had strength to be, at least, your postilion when you go. I would drive, if not like Jehu, at least with some degree of cheerful swiftness, while Christ smiled on the Christian attempt. But I am confident you can do all in the absence of him, who is, with brotherly love, and dutiful respect, Hon. and dear Sir, your obedient servant in the Gospel,
Dr. Conyers, to whom this letter was addressed, was a notable man. Born at Helmsley, Yorkshire, in 1725, he, in due time, became the Vicar of that extensive parish. His conversion there, and his labours, were remarkable. In 1765, he married Mrs. Knipe, a rich and pious widow, the sister of the well-known John Thornton, Esq., of Clapham. Three years before the foregoing letter was written, Mr. Thornton presented him to the living of St. Paul’s, Deptford; and here he died in 1786, eight months after the death of Fletcher.[440] At the beginning of his evangelical career, he was warmly attached to Wesley, and a firm believer in the doctrines of the Arminians. Afterwards, he was, to some extent, influenced by certain of the Calvinian Ministers, with whom he held converse; but, like his brother-in-law, John Thornton, he was a lover of all good men; and, occupying a kind of neutral position between the contending parties, Fletcher deemed him well qualified to bring about the reconciliation of the two.
At this period, the venerable Vicar of Shoreham had been recently informed that he was entitled to a valuable estate in Switzerland, and William Perronet, Fletcher’s medical adviser in England, had undertaken to visit Switzerland to enforce his father’s rights. Before doing so, however, he wrote to Fletcher, requesting his advice; and Fletcher’s reply was as follows:—
“My Dear Friend,—When I wrote to you last, I mentioned two ladies of your family who have married two brothers, Messrs. Monod. Since then, they have requested me to send your father the enclosed memorial, which I hope will prove of use to your family. As the bad writing and the language may make the understanding of it difficult, I forward you the substance of it, and of the letter of the ladies’ lawyer.
“While I invite you to make your title clear to a precarious estate on earth, permit me, my dear Sir, to remind you of the heavenly inheritance entailed on believers. The will, the New Testament by which we can recover it, is proved. The Court is just and equitable; the Judge is gracious and loving. To enter into possession of a part of the estate here, and of the whole hereafter, we need only believe and prove evangelically that we are believers. Let us then set about it now, with earnestness, with perseverance, and with a full assurance that, through grace, we shall carry our cause. Alas! what are estates and crowns to grace and glory?
“I have had a pull back since I wrote last. After I left Mr. Ireland at Macon, to shorten my journey and enjoy new prospects, I ventured to cross the mountains which separate France from this country. On the third day of the journey, I found a large hill, whose winding roads were so steep that, though we fed the horses with bread and wine, they could scarcely draw the chaise, and I was obliged to walk in all the steepest places. The climbing lasted several hours; the sun was hot; I perspired violently; and the next day I spit blood again. I have chiefly kept to goat’s milk ever since; I find myself better; and my cough is neither frequent nor violent.
“This is a delightful country. If you come to see it, and to claim the estate, bring all the papers and memorials you can collect; and share a pleasant apartment, and one of the finest prospects in the world, in the house where I was born. I design to try this fine air some months longer. We have a fine shady wood near the lake, where I can ride in the cool all the day, and enjoy the singing of a multitude of birds. But this, though sweet, does not come up to the singing of my dear friends in England. There I meet them in spirit several hours in the day.”[441]
The ensuing letter, kindly lent by the Rev. Dr. Knowles, of Tunbridge Wells, has not before been published. It was addressed to “Mr. Power, Druggist, in Broadmead, Bristol, Angleterre.”
“Dear Sir,—A journey and my constant rides have hindered me acknowledging sooner the favour of your observations and criticisms, which I received some time ago. If I had my little publications here, to turn to the pages you quote, I would immediately make notes, and alter or rectify what you object to, as a preparation for a more correct edition, should the work be ever reprinted. I wish all my friends had taken as much pains about my works as you have, Sir; they would by this time be more correct. Accept my sincere thanks for the favour; and, if I live to see England again, we shall (please God) talk the matter over fully.
“I am obliged to you for your caution about preaching. I have followed it, and have not yet preached in this country, though I believe I shall soon venture again upon it, but with care and in a sparing manner. I hope at least the Lord will give me grace so to do.
“I heartily rejoice that Mrs. Power has been carried safely, a second time, through the danger of child-bearing. May she and the two fruits of her body live to the glory of God, and to your comfort! Remember me kindly to her; and give my blessing to my god-son, whose will, I hope, you continue to break with the wisdom, patience, and steadiness which become a parent.
“I sent your mother a few lines by Mr. Ireland. I hope she received them; but I shall never get an answer, if what he writes me is true. Is she dead indeed? Sometimes I hope it is a rumour without foundation; and yet his account that she died at Bath, where your letter mentions she was gone, makes me fear he was well-informed. If she is no more, you have lost a tender mother, and I a kind friend; but the Lord will make up all our losses, and has already made them up by giving us His Son. May we receive Him, and with Him all that is excellent among the living and the dead! As she has been for many years a woman of sorrow,—a true Hannah—wading almost constantly through a sea of temptations, they may have followed her to the last, and she may have escaped out of many tribulations, as the saints mentioned in the Revelation. A line about it, and about your welfare, and that of my god-son, will greatly oblige, dear Sir, your obedient and already obliged servant,
“My love to your brother, when you see him.”
The next letter, written to Mr. Ireland, contains a sylvan scene worthy of being painted:—
“My Dear Friend,—I have ventured to preach once, and to expound once in the church. Our ministers are very kind, and preach to the purpose. A young one of this town gave us lately a very excellent gospel sermon.
“Grown-up people stand fast in their stupidity, or in their self-righteousness. The day I preached, I met some children in my wood gathering strawberries. I spoke to them about our common Father. We felt a touch of brotherly affection. They said they would sing to their Father, as well as the birds; and followed me, attempting to make such melody as you know is commonly made in these parts. I outrode them, but some of them had the patience to follow me home; and said they would speak with me. The people of the house stopped them, saying, I would not be troubled with children. They cried, and said, they were sure I would not say so, for I was their good brother. The next day, when I heard this, I enquired after them, and invited them to come and see me; which they have done every day since. I make them little hymns, which they sing. Some of them are unde, sweet drawings. Yesterday, I wept for joy on hearing one of them speak, as an experienced believer in Bristol would have done, of conviction of sin, and of the joy unspeakable in Christ that followed. Last Sunday, I met them in the wood; there were a hundred of them, and as many adults. Our first pastor has since desired me to desist from preaching in the wood (for I had exhorted), for fear of giving umbrage; and I have complied, from a concurrence of circumstances which are not worth mentioning; I therefore now meet them in my father’s yard.”[442]
What a contrast to this scene of gentleness among children is the following!
Fletcher had a nephew, who had been in the Sardinian army, where his ungentlemanly and profligate conduct had given such general offence to his brother officers that they determined to compel him to leave their corps, or to fight them all in succession. After engaging in two or three duels, with various success, the young bravo left the service, and now, during Fletcher’s present visit, he returned to Switzerland. His resources were soon spent in profligacy; and, gaining access to his uncle, General De Gons, he presented a loaded pistol, and said, “Uncle De Gons, if you do not give me a draft on your banker for five hundred crowns, I will shoot you.” The General was a brave man, but, seeing himself in the power of a desperado capable of any mischief, he wrote the draft. “Uncle,” said the young fellow, “you must do another thing; you must promise me, on your honour, to use no means to recover the draft, or to bring me to justice.” The General promised, and the bandit rode away triumphantly. Passing the door of his uncle Fletcher, he called upon him, and told him General De Gons had generously given him five hundred crowns. Fletcher doubted the truthfulness of this statement. The draft was produced. “Let me see it,” said Fletcher. It was handed to him. Fletcher examined it, and remarked, “It is indeed my brother’s writing, and it astonishes me; because my brother is not wealthy, and I know that he justly disapproves your conduct, and that you are the last in the family to whom he would make such a present.” Then, folding the draft and putting it into his pocket, Fletcher added, “It strikes me, young man, that you have obtained this draft improperly; and, in honesty, I cannot return it without my brother’s approbation.” Out came the pistol, and was levelled at Fletcher’s breast. “Return it,” cried the young scoundrel, “or I will take your life.” “My life,” calmly replied Fletcher, “is secure in the protection of the Almighty Power who guards it; nor will He suffer it to be the forfeit of your rashness, or my integrity. Do you think that I, who have been a minister of God for five-and-twenty years, am afraid of death? It is for you to fear death, who have every reason to fear it. You are a gamester and a cheat, yet call yourself a gentleman! You are the seducer of female innocence, and still you say that you are a gentleman! You are a duellist and your hand is red with blood, and for this you call yourself a man of honour! Look there, Sir! look there! See, the broad eye of heaven is upon us. Tremble in the presence of your Maker, who can in a moment kill your body, and for ever damn your soul!” The culprit turned pale; then he argued, threatened, and entreated. Sometimes, taking out his pistol, he fixed himself against the door to prevent egress; and, at other times, closed on frail Fletcher, menacing him with instantaneous death. All was of no avail. The poor country parson was as valorous as the most heroic soldier. He gave no alarm to the family; he sought no weapon; he attempted no escape; he simply conversed with the calmness of a hero and a saint. At length, the young fellow began to be affected; and now, having gained the victory, Fletcher addressed him in another strain: “I cannot return my brother’s draft,” said he; “yet I feel for your distress, and will endeavour to relieve it. My brother Gons, at my request, I am sure will give you a hundred crowns; I will do the same; perhaps my brother Henry will do as much; and I hope your own family will make up the five hundred crowns among them.” Fletcher then fell upon his knees, and began to pray; uncle and nephew parted, and the family, by Fletcher’s mediation, furnished the young scapegrace with the five hundred crowns he had feloniously attempted to extort.[443]
Amidst such scenes, Fletcher did not forget his friends at Madeley. On July 18, he wrote three messages:—
To his curate, the Rev. Mr. Greaves.—“I trust you lay yourself out for the good of the flock committed to your care. I shall be glad to hear that they grow in grace, and humble love.”
To the congregation in Madeley church.—“John Fletcher begs a farther interest in the prayers of the congregation of Madeley; and desires those, who assemble to serve God in the church, to help him to return public thanks to Almighty God for many mercies received; especially, for being able to do a little ministerial duty. He humbly beseeches them to serve God as Christians, and to love one another as brethren; neglecting no means of grace, and rejoicing in all the hopes of glory.”
To the Methodist Societies “in Madeley, Dawley, and the Banks.”—“We“We are all called to grow in grace, and, consequently, in love, which is the greatest of all Christian graces. Your prayers for my soul and my body have not been without answer. Blessed be God! Glory be to His rich mercy in Christ, I live yet the life of faith; as to my body, I recover some strength. God bless you all, with all the blessings brought to the Church by Christ Jesus, and by the other Comforter! My love to the preachers” (John Murlin and Robert Roberts), “whom I beg you will thank in my name.”[444]
Two months later (September 15), he wrote to his friend Thomas York:—
“Blessed be the God of all consolation, though I have still very trying and feverish nights, I am kept in peace of mind; resigned to His will, who afflicts me for my good, and justly sets me aside for my unprofitableness. His grace within, and His people without, turn my trying circumstances into matter of praise. Give my love to all your dear family; to the two or three who may yet remember me at Shiffnal; and, also, to Daniel, and desire him, when he gathers the Easter dues, to give my love and thanks to all my parishioners.“[445]
No doubt Fletcher’s statement to Mr. York, respecting himself, was strictly true; but, still, there must have been a considerable improvement in his health since he left England. Hence the following interesting letter, written to Mr. Ireland only ten days later:—
“My Dear Friend,—I am just returned from an excursion I have made with my brother, through the fine vale in the midst of the high hills which divide France from this country. In that vale we found three lakes, one on French ground, and two on Swiss: the largest is six miles long and two wide. It is the part of the country where industry is most apparent, and where population thrives best. The inhabitants are chiefly woodmen, coopers, watchmakers, and jewellers. They told me, they had the best singing, and the best preacher, in the country. I asked, if any sinners were converted under his ministry? They stared, and asked, what I meant by conversion? When I had explained myself, they said, ‘We do not live in the time of miracles.’
“I was better satisfied in passing through a part of the vale which belongs to the King of France. I saw a prodigious concourse of people, and supposed they kept a fair, but was agreeably surprised to find three missionaries in the midst of them, who went about as itinerant preachers to help the regular clergy. They had been there some days, and were three brothers, and preached morning and evening. The evening service opened with what they called a conference. One of the missionaries took the pulpit, and the parish priest proposed questions to him, which he answered at full length and in a very edifying manner. The subject was the unlawfulness and the mischief of those methods by which persons of different sexes lay snares for each other, and corrupt each other’s morals. The subject was treated with delicacy, propriety, and truth. The method was admirably well calculated to draw and fix the attention of a mixed multitude. This conference being ended, another missionary took the pulpit. His text was our Lord’s description of the day of judgment. Before the sermon, all those who, for the press, could kneel, did, and sang a French hymn to beg a blessing on the word; and indeed it was blessed. An awful attention was visible upon most, and, during a good part of the discourse, the voice of the preacher was almost lost in the cries and bitter wailings of the audience. When the outcry began, the preacher was describing the departure of the wicked into eternal fire. They urged that God was merciful, and that Jesus Christ had shed His blood for them. ‘But that mercy you have slighted, and now is the time of justice. That blood you have trodden under foot, and now it cries for vengeance. Know your day. Slight the Father’s mercy and the Son’s blood no longer.’ I have seen but once or twice congregations as much affected in England.
“One of our ministers being ill, I ventured, a second time, into the pulpit last Sunday; and, the Sunday before, I preached, six miles off, to two thousand people in the yard of a jail, where they were come to see a murderer before his execution. I was a little abused by the bailiff on the occasion, and was refused the liberty of attending the poor man to the scaffold, where he was to be broken on the wheel. I hope he died penitent. The day before he suffered, he said he had broken his irons, and that, as he deserved to die, he desired new ones to be put on, lest he should be tempted to make his escape.
“You ask, what I design to do? I propose, if it be the Lord’s will, to spend the winter here. In the spring, I shall, if nothing prevents, return to England with you, or with Mr. Perronet, if his affairs are settled, or alone, if other ways fail. In the meanwhile, I rejoice with you in Jesus, and in the glorious hope of that complete salvation His faithfulness has promised, and His power can never be at a loss to bestow. We must be saved by faith and hope till we are saved by perfect love, and made partakers of heavenly glory. I am truly a stranger here. As strangers let us go where we shall meet the assembly of the righteous gathered in Jesus.“[446]
Mr. William Perronet arrived at Nyon in the month of December, and, in letters to his father, related:—