“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.
“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.
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:—
“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,
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:—
“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.
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,—
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:—
“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,
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:—
“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:—
“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.