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WESLEY’S DESIGNATED SUCCESSOR.

WESLEY’S DESIGNATED SUCCESSOR:

The Life, Letters, and Literary Labours

OF THE

REV. JOHN WILLIAM FLETCHER,

Vicar of Madeley, Shropshire.

BY

REV. L. TYERMAN,

AUTHOR OF

“THE LIFE AND TIMES OF THE REV. SAMUEL WESLEY, M.A., RECTOR OF EPWORTH;”

“THE LIFE AND TIMES OF THE REV. JOHN WESLEY, M.A.;”

“THE LIFE OF THE REV. GEORGE WHITEFIELD, B.A.;”

AND “THE OXFORD METHODISTS.”

New York:

PHILLIPS AND HUNT.

Cincinnati:

WALDEN AND STOWE.

MDCCCLXXXIII.

I dedicate this Book to my Wife,

Who has shared my joys and sorrows for nearly

thirty years.

L. TYERMAN.

PREFACE.

“Jean Guillaume de la Flechere,” wrote Robert Southey, “was a man of rare talents, and rarer virtue. No age or country has ever produced a man of more fervent piety, or more perfect charity; no Church has ever possessed a more apostolic minister. He was a man of whom Methodism may well be proud, as the most able of its defenders; and whom the Church of England may hold in remembrance, as one of the most pious and excellent of her sons.”

“Fletcher was a saint,” said Isaac Taylor, “as unearthly a being as could tread the earth at all.”

“Fletcher,” remarked Robert Hall, “is a seraph who burns with the ardour of divine love. Spurning the fetters of mortality, he almost habitually seems to have anticipated the rapture of the beatific vision.”

Dr. Dixon, one of the greatest of Methodist preachers, observed, “I conceive Fletcher to be the most holy man who has been upon earth since the apostolic age.”

No apology is needed for publishing the life of such a man, unless it can be shown that a life worthy of him is already in existence.

Excepting the brief and exceedingly imperfect biography by the Rev. Robert Cox, in 1822, only two Lives of Fletcher have been published since his death, ninety-seven years ago; namely, Wesley’s in 1786, and Benson’s in 1804.

It is true that, in 1790, the Rev. Joshua Gilpin, Vicar of Rockwardine, appended twenty-nine biographical “Notes” to different chapters of Fletcher’s “Portrait of St. Paul;” but the facts they contained, in addition to those which Wesley had already given, were not many.

A year later, in 1791, the Rev. Melville Horne, Curate of Madeley, published “Posthumous Pieces of the late Rev. John William De La Flechere,” a volume of 435 pages, nearly 400 of which are filled with Fletcher’s Letters to his friends. This volume has been of great service to me in the present work. Many quotations are made from it, and are indicated by the footnotes, “Letters, 1791.”

When Fletcher died, some of his admirers wished Mr. Ireland to be his biographer; others desired Fletcher’s widow to undertake the task. Both of them judiciously declined. Wesley was then fixed upon. He asked Mr. Ireland to supply him with materials, but Mr. Ireland refused: Mrs. Fletcher, however, rendered him important help. In unpublished letters to Sarah Crosby, she writes:—

“Mr. Ireland knew and loved my dear husband as scarcely any other person did; and if he chooses to print a journal of their travels and of the great spiritual labours of which he was an eye-witness, it would not be wrong. But this is not his intention. He only wishes to gather materials for me. With a good deal of labour, I have collected some sweet fragments, on different subjects, from little pocket-books, but I have handed them to Mr. Wesley, who, however, tells me he has done nothing towards the Life, and that he has enough to occupy his time for a year to come. Indeed, he seems to be in doubt whether he will be able to write the Life at all. I hope the accounts I have given him will not be shortened; if they be, I shall repent that I did not print them myself.”

This was written on June 20, 1786, and shows that ten months after Fletcher’s death, Wesley had not even begun Fletcher’s biography. Fourteen weeks afterwards, he made a start. An extract from his journal is worth quoting:—

“1786. September 25. Monday. We took coach” at Bristol, “in the afternoon; and on Tuesday morning reached London. I now applied myself in earnest to the writing of Mr. Fletcher’s Life, having procured the best materials I could. To this I dedicated all the time I could spare till November, from five in the morning till eight at night. These are my studying hours; I cannot write longer in a day without hurting my eyes.”

For little more than a month the venerable biographer, now in the eighty-fourth year of his age, devoted all the time he “could spare” in preparing the Life of one whom he pronounced the most “unblameable man, in every respect, that, within four-score years,” he had “found either in Europe or America!” The biography was finished in the month of November, and in December was published with the title “A Short Account of the Life and Death of the Rev. John Fletcher. By the Rev. John Wesley. Sequor, non passibus æquis. London, 1786.” It certainly was a “Short Account,”—a 12mo volume of 227 pages, which would have been much smaller if the type and the space between the lines had been different. This was the first Life of Wesley’s greatest friend, and his “Designated Successor“! The veteran was far too busy to do justice to his great “helper.”

Eighteen years elapsed before another and larger Life was given to the public. This was undertaken in 1801 by the Rev. Joseph Benson, at the request of Fletcher’s widow, and of the Methodist Conference of that year. In 1804 it was published with the following title:—“The Life of the Rev. John W. de la Flechere, compiled from the Narratives of the Reverend Mr. Wesley; the Biographical Notes of the Reverend Mr. Gilpin; from his own Letters; and other Authentic Documents, many of which were never before published. By Joseph Benson.” This is the only Life of Fletcher which, in a separate form, has been circulated during the last seventy-eight years.

Of course, during this long period of nearly fourscore years, many new facts and incidents concerning Fletcher have come to light; and, among these new biographical materials, special mention must be made of the Fletcher MSS. deposited in the Wesleyan Mission House, London, in 1862. Since then, the Methodist “Committee on Book Affairs” has repeatedly expressed the opinion that a new Life of Fletcher ought to be prepared, and, at least, two of the foremost men in Methodism have been requested to undertake the work. One of the two is dead, and the other seems to have as much literary labour in hand as he is able to accomplish. Under such circumstances, I have had the temerity to attempt the task.

I have carefully used all the biographical matter that I have found in the “Short Account” by Wesley; in the Letters published by Melville Horne; in Gilpin’s “Notes;” in the Life by Benson; in the Fletcher MSS., just mentioned; in other MSS. belonging to myself; in MSS. kindly lent to me; and in all the Methodist and other publications relating to Fletcher with which I am acquainted.

I have no artistic talent; and if I had, I should not employ it in writing biographies. In such publications I am only desirous to see the man, not the artist’s drapery. I want to know his doings, sayings, and sufferings, rather than to read philosophic discourses concerning them. My aim, therefore, from first to last, has been to let Fletcher speak for himself. His Letters are invaluable; the man who can read them without being profited is greatly to be pitied. The extracts from his sermons show how the first Methodists used to preach. The chapters respecting the Calvinian controversy may, to some readers, be somewhat dry, but they could not be omitted, because that controversy was the great event in Fletcher’s life, and hastened his death. Besides, it was by his publications on this subject that he rendered service to Wesley and the Methodist movement, which neither Wesley himself nor any other of Wesley’s friends could have furnished. I have refrained from discussing the truths which Fletcher’s pen defended; but I have said enough to indicate what the doctrines were which created Methodism, and which alone can perpetuate its spiritual life and power.

The portrait of Fletcher is taken from an exceedingly scarce engraving, in the Methodist Museum, at Centenary Hall, London.

I think I may say, without exposing myself to the charge of arrogance or conceit, that, in this volume, the reader will find all the facts of any importance that are known concerning Fletcher, and that here, more than in any previous publication, is illustrated the intellectual and saintly character of one of the holiest men that ever lived.

L. TYERMAN.

Stanhope House, Clapham Park, S.W.

October 7, 1882.

GENERAL CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION.

EIGHTEEN years before his death, Wesley wrote the following letter to Fletcher, Vicar of Madeley—

“January, 1773.

“Dear Sir,—What an amazing work has God wrought in these kingdoms, in less than forty years! And it not only continues, but increases, throughout England, Scotland, and Ireland; nay, it has lately spread into New York, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Maryland, and Carolina. But the wise men of the world say, ‘When Mr. Wesley drops, then all this is at an end!’ And so it surely will, unless, before God calls him hence, one is found to stand in his place. For, ουκ αγαθον πολυκοιρανιη. Εις κοιρανος εστω. I see more and more, unless there be one προεστως, the work can never be carried on. The body of the preachers are not united: nor will any part of them submit to the rest; so that either there must be one to preside over all, or the work will indeed come to an end.

“But who is sufficient for these things? Qualified to preside both over the preachers and people? He must be a man of faith and love, and one that has a single eye to the advancement of the kingdom of God. He must have a clear understanding; a knowledge of men and things, particularly of the Methodist doctrine and discipline; a ready utterance; diligence and activity, with a tolerable share of health. There must be added to these favour with the people, with the Methodists in general. For, unless God turns their eyes and their hearts towards him, he will be quite incapable of the work. He must likewise have some degree of learning, because there are many adversaries, learned as well as unlearned, whose mouths must be stopped. But this cannot be done unless he be able to meet them on their own ground.

“But has God provided one so qualified? Who is he? Thou art the man! God has given you a measure of loving faith, and a single eye to His glory. He has given you some knowledge of men and things, particularly of the old plan of Methodism. You are blessed with some health, activity, and diligence, together with a degree of learning. And to these He has lately added, by a way none could have foreseen, favour both with the preachers and the whole people. Come out in the name of God! Come to the help of the Lord against the mighty! Come while I am alive and capable of labour!

‘Dum superest Lachesi quod torqueat, et pedibus me

Porto meis, nullo dextram subeunte bacillo.’

Come while I am able, God assisting, to build you up in faith, to ripen your gifts, and to introduce you to the people. Nil tanti. What possible employment can you have, which is of so great importance?

“But you will naturally say, ‘I am not equal to the task; I have neither grace nor gifts for such an employment.’ You say true; it is certain you have not. And who has? But do you not know Him who is able to give them? perhaps not at once, but rather day by day: as each is, so shall your strength be. ‘But this implies,’ you may say, ‘a thousand crosses, such as I feel I am not able to bear.’ You are not able to bear them now, and they are not now come. Whenever they do come, will He not send them in due number, weight, and measure? And will they not all be for your profit, that you may be a partaker of His holiness?

“Without conferring, therefore, with flesh and blood, come and strengthen the hands, comfort the heart, and share the labour of

“Your affectionate friend and brother,

“John Wesley.”[^[1]]

In all respects, Wesley’s letter is remarkable. He wished Methodism to be perpetuated; but he was convinced that this could not be done unless the ruling and administrative power could be confided, not to the Conference, or to a committee of the Conference, but to a single person. His description of the necessary qualifications of such a ruler is worthy of being studied. Especially ought Methodist preachers and the Methodist people all over the world, and in all generations, to notice the fact that Wesley’s first and pre-eminent qualification was that he who “presided both over the preachers and people must be a man of faith and love, and one who had a single eye to the advancement of the kingdom of God.” For thirty-eight years, since he left the Oxford University, Wesley’s labours had been herculean and incessant. His health had begun to fail; so much so, that, only a few months before he wrote to Fletcher, his friends in London had become alarmed by signs of age and debility, and had contributed to provide him a carriage in which to pursue those extensive and laborious journeys, which hitherto he had made on horseback. In Edinburgh, he had undergone a medical examination by Dr. Monro, Dr. Gregory, and Dr. Hamilton, after which he wrote: “1772, May 18. They satisfied me what my disorder was; and told me there was but one method of cure. Perhaps but one natural one; but I think God has more than one method of healing either the soul or the body.”

Under such circumstances, it is not surprising that Wesley wished to have in training his successor; and he seems to have had no difficulty in nominating him. His brother Charles was living, and, among his itinerant preachers, there was a small band of remarkable men, including Alexander Mather, Thomas Olivers, George Shadford, John Pawson, Thomas Hanby, William Thompson, Thomas Taylor, John Nelson, Thomas Rankin, Christopher Hopper, Joseph Benson, George Story, Thomas Rutherford, Richard Whatcoat, Joseph Pilmore, Francis Asbury, and others; but all these were passed over, and the man he desired and nominated to be his successor was the saintly Swiss, John William de la Flechère, Vicar of Madeley.

The character and the life of such a man must be worthy of attention. Wesley, a keen judge of men, thought him qualified to be the “προεστως” of the Methodists. His reply to Wesley’s proposal need not be inserted here. The position was the highest Wesley could offer him. Was he worthy of it? Let the reader of the following pages form his own opinion. Enough has been said to justify the present attempt to delineate the man.

CHAPTER I.
FROM FLETCHER’S BIRTH TO HIS COMING
TO ENGLAND
IN 1752.

JEAN GUILLAUME DE LA FLECHÈRE was a descendant of one of the most respectable families in Switzerland; a family, in fact, which was a branch of an earldom of Savoy. After his marriage, Fletcher’s wife found in his desk a seal. “Is this yours?” she asked. “Yes,” replied the poor country parson; “but I have not used it for many years.” “Why?” “Because it bears a coronet, nearly such as is the insignia of your English dukes. Were I to use that seal, it might lead to frivolous inquiries about my family, and subject me to the censure of valuing myself on such distinctions.”[^[2]]

For some time the father of John Fletcher was a general officer in the French army, but, on his marriage, he retired from the service. Later in life, he accepted a colonelcy in the militia of Switzerland.

John, his father’s youngest son, was born at Nyon, on September 12th, 1729. His birthplace was a fine old mansion, that had withstood the storms of centuries, and, like many of the ancient houses in Switzerland, was entered by a spiral stone staircase, which opened into a spacious hall. “The house where I was born,” said Fletcher, “has one of the finest prospects in the world. We have a shady wood, near the lake, where I can ride in the cool all the day, and enjoy the singing of a multitude of birds.” From one of the windows of Fletcher’s ancestral home, there was a magnificent view of hill and dale, vineyards and pastures, stretching right away to the distant Jura mountains. At a few paces from the château, there was a terrace overlooking Lake Leman, with its clear blue waters and its gracefully-curved and richly-wooded bays. On the right hand, at a distance of fifteen miles, was Geneva, the cradle of the Reformation; on the left, Lausanne and the celebrated castle of Chillon. High up in the heavens were Alpine peaks, embosoming scenes the most beautiful; and, not far away, was Mont Blanc, robed in perpetual and unsullied snow.

Not much is known of the early life of Fletcher. A few anecdotes concerning him have been preserved by his biographers, and these shall be given in as brief a form as possible.

Wesley relates that Fletcher, “in his early childhood, had much of the fear of God, and great tenderness of conscience.” One day, when he was about seven years of age, his nurse, who had occasion to reprove him, said, “You are a naughty boy. Do you not know that the devil is to take away all naughty children?” The maid’s remark troubled him. He fell upon his knees and began to pray, and did not cease till he believed God had forgiven him.

His filial obedience was exemplary, but, on one occasion, he, undesignedly, offended his mother, whom he dearly loved. The good lady was speaking in too warm a manner to one of the family. Young Fletcher turned a reproving eye upon her. She was much displeased with what she conceived to be unfilial forwardness, and punished him. With a look of tender affection, he meekly replied, “When I am smitten on one cheek, and especially by a hand I love so well, I am taught to turn the other also.” The mother’s indignation was instantly turned into admiration of her boy.[^[3]]

While yet a youth, he had several near escapes from an untimely death. Once, when walking upon a high wall enclosing his father’s garden, his foot slipped, and he must have been killed had he not fallen into “a large quantity of fresh-made mortar.”

At another time, when swimming by himself in deep water, a strong ribbon, which bound his hair, became loose, twisted about his leg, and tied him “as it were neck and heels.” “I strove,” said he, “with all my strength to disengage myself, but to no purpose. No person being within call, I gave myself up for lost; but when I had ceased struggling, the ribbon loosed itself.”

On another occasion, he and four other young gentlemen agreed to swim to a rocky island, five miles from the shore. Young Fletcher and one of his adventurous friends succeeded in reaching the island, but the cliff was so steep and smooth that they found it impossible to scale its heights. After swimming round the islet again and again, they concluded that their being drowned was inevitable. Immediately after, however, they discovered a place of safety; and, in due time, a boat arrived and took them home. The other three, when only half way to the island, were rescued by a boat just as they were sinking.

A still more remarkable deliverance from a watery grave was the following: Fletcher was a practised swimmer, and once plunged into a river broader than the Thames at London Bridge, and very rapid. “The water was extremely rough, and poured along like a galloping horse.” He endeavoured to swim against it, but in vain, and was hurried far from home. When almost exhausted, he looked for a resting-place, feeling he must either escape from the water or sink. With great difficulty, he approached the shore, but found it “so ragged and sharp that he saw, if he attempted to land there, he would be torn to pieces.” In his direful plight, he recommenced swimming. “At last,” says he, “despairing of life, I was cheered by the sight of a fine smooth creek, into which I was swiftly carried by a violent stream. A building stood directly across it, which I then did not know to be a powder-mill. The last thing I can remember was the striking of my breast against one of the piles whereon it stood. I then lost my senses, and knew nothing more till I rose on the other side of the mill. When I came to myself, I was in a calm, safe place, perfectly well, without any soreness or weariness at all. Nothing was amiss but the distance of my clothes, the stream having driven me five miles from the place where I left them. Many persons gladly welcomed me on shore; one gentleman in particular, who said, ‘I looked at my watch when you went under the mill, and again when you rose on the other side, and the time of your being immerged among the piles was exactly twenty minutes.’”

Fletcher passed the early part of his life at Nyon, where he began his education. With his two brothers, he was then removed to the university of Geneva, where he was distinguished equally by his superior abilities and his uncommon diligence. The two first prizes for which he stood a candidate he carried away from a number of competitors, several of whom were nearly related to the professors. He allowed himself but little time either for recreation, refreshment, or sleep. After confining himself closely to his studies all day, he would frequently consume the greater part of the night in making notes of what he had found in the course of his reading worthy of observation.

After quitting Geneva, he was sent by his father to Lentzburg, in the canton of Berne, where, besides pursuing his other studies, he acquired the German language. On his return to Nyon, he studied Hebrew, and improved his knowledge of mathematics.

From early childhood, Fletcher loved and served his Maker. He himself relates: “I think it was when I was seven years of age, that I first began to feel the love of God shed abroad in my heart, and that I resolved to give myself up to Him, and to the service of His Church, if ever I should be fit for it; but the corruption which is in the world, and that which was in my own heart, soon weakened, if not erased, those first characters which grace had written upon it.”

“From a child thou hast known the holy Scriptures,” wrote St. Paul to Timothy. The same might have been said to Fletcher. His early acquaintance with inspired truth guarded him, on the one hand, from the snares of infidelity, and preserved him, on the other, from many of the vices peculiar to youth. It also qualified and emboldened him to reprove sin, and, with becoming modesty, to remonstrate with sinners. To illustrate this, his biographers relate an incident which occurred when he was only fourteen years of age. A lady and her three sons visited his sister, Madame de Botens. The sons quarrelled, and the mother uttered a hasty imprecation. Young Fletcher was shocked, and, instantly starting from his chair, began to expound and enforce the apostolic admonition, “Provoke not your children to wrath,” etc.; and then reminded his astonished auditress that her imprecation might be realized; a vaticination that soon became a fact; for, on the same day, the lady embarked upon the lake, was overtaken with a tremendous storm, and was brought to the point of perishing; and, soon after, two of her sons were drowned; and the third was crushed to death at one of the gates of Geneva.

Fletcher had wished to be a Christian minister, and his parents had wished the same concerning him; but, soon after the occurrence just related, his plans of life were entirely altered. He writes: “I went through my studies with a design of entering into orders; but, afterwards, upon serious reflection, feeling I was unequal to so great a burden, and disgusted by the necessity I should be under to subscribe the doctrine of predestination, I yielded to the desire of my friends, who would have me go into the army.”[^[4]]

The friends here mentioned did not include his parents, for they were strongly opposed to his turning soldier; but now, nearly at the age of twenty, his theological reading gave place to the studying of the works of Cohorn and Vauban, the great military engineers. At this time, Portugal was sending troops to Brazil, to defend its interests there. Against the remonstrances of his parents, Fletcher went to Lisbon, there gathered a company of his own countrymen, accepted a captain’s commission, and engaged to serve the Portuguese on board a man-of-war, which was preparing with all speed to sail to the Brazilian coasts. Meanwhile, he wrote to his parents for a considerable sum of money, by means of which he expected to make a small fortune in the country he was about to visit. “They refused him roughly: unmoved by this, he determined to go without the cash.” Whilst waiting, however, for the ship to sail, the maid, attending him at breakfast, let the tea-kettle fall upon his leg, and so scalded him, that he had to keep his bed. “During that time,” says Wesley, “the ship sailed for Brazil; but it was observed that the ship was heard of no more.”

Wesley continues: “How is this reconcileable with the account which has been given of his piety when he was a child? Very easily: it only shows that his piety declined while he was at the university. And this is too often the case of other youths in our own universities.”

Fletcher returned to Nyon, but his military ardour was not abated; and, being informed that his uncle, then a colonel in the Dutch service, had procured a commission for him, he joyfully set out for Flanders. Here, however, he was again defeated in his purpose to become a soldier. Peace was concluded; his uncle died; his hopes were blasted; and the military profession was abandoned.

This, in substance, is all that is known of Fletcher, until he came to England, as Wesley says, in 1752.

CHAPTER II.
FROM HIS COMING TO ENGLAND TO HIS
ORDINATION.
1752 to 1757.

AFTER the frustration of his hopes in Flanders, Fletcher, accompanied by other young gentlemen, embarked for England, for the purpose of acquiring the English language. At the Custom House in London they were treated with the utmost surliness. Of course their portmanteaus were examined,—never a pleasant operation, but sometimes less politely done than at others. In addition to this, their letters of recommendation were taken from them, on the alleged ground that “all letters must be sent by post.” They went to an inn, where they encountered another difficulty. Unable to speak English, they were at a loss how to exchange their foreign into English money. Fletcher, going to the door, heard a well-dressed Jew talking French. The difficulty was explained; and the Jew replied, “Give me your money, and I will get it changed.” Fletcher, without the least suspicion, handed the gentleman his purse, containing £90. Telling his friends what he had done, they exclaimed, “Your money’s gone.” His friends were wrong. Before breakfast was ended the honest Jew returned, and gave to Fletcher the full amount in English coin.

To assist him in the acquisition of the English language, Fletcher had been recommended to a Mr. Burchell, who kept a boarding-school at South Mimms, a village about four miles from Hatfield, in Hertfordshire. He was admitted into this establishment. Soon after, it was removed to Hatfield, whither he also went. Here he remained with Mr. Burchell about eighteen months, and pursued his studies with great diligence. He frequently visited some of the first families in Hatfield; and, by his easy and genteel behaviour, and his sweetness of temper, he gained the affectionate esteem of all who knew him.

On leaving Mr. Burchell’s academy, Fletcher was recommended by Mr. Dechamps, a French minister, to Thomas Hill, Esq., of Tern Hall, in Shropshire, as tutor to his two sons.[^[5]] It was whilst in the service of this gentleman that Fletcher was converted. The following is an extract from one of his letters to his brother Henry, at Nyon:—

“The news of your promotion has given me great pleasure. I feel a sincere satisfaction in the diligence with which you devote yourself to the good of society, and that you prefer a life of labour to one of indolent and useless inactivity. We may be instruments of some good in any condition of human life, if we faithfully fulfil its duties; and the more difficult our station may prove to be, the more of satisfaction is likely to result from acquitting ourselves well in it. The ambition which springs from this principle has nothing censurable in it, provided that a view to the glory of God be its motive. I delight to think that the advancement of the Divine glory is your principal end; in which case, as your influence extends over the whole city, the good you do may be very great. You will find a thousand opportunities of glorifying God by your diligence, integrity, and disinterestedness. Endeavour to find or make occasions of this sort; seize on them eagerly, and shrink not from entering into the minutest details, when the object is to do good to the bodies or souls of your neighbours. Imitate, as far as circumstances will admit, the charity of Christ; who went about doing good, and disdained not to converse with the most wretched. I dwell on this the more particularly, because the vanity and pride which reign in our native town appear to me directly opposed to the spirit of charity. If you rise above these, you will conduct yourself as a Christian, whose sole object is to advance the glory of God; and who thinks little of the esteem of man, except as it may place him in a position to do more good in the world.

“Your recreations, of which you have given me a brief sketch, are doubtless innocent, especially if they occupy no more of your time than a due attention to health, and the wants of our nature demand. Although you have often reproached me with being too austere, I am far from thinking that religion forbids the use of innocent recreations; because, being indifferent in themselves, they become useful when they are necessary for the relaxation of the body or the mind. I am not at all shocked at the tradition which informs us that St. John sometimes amused himself with a partridge which he had tamed. Happy are they who, as far as they are able, endeavour to turn their own recreations to the advantage of others, which may certainly, if not always, yet sometimes, be done. I sometimes polish shells with Mr. Hill, out of compliance with his wishes. This used formerly to put me in a bad humour, on account of the loss of time it occasioned. But I begin to find that pious thoughts may sanctify an occupation as insignificant as even this, and that a renouncing of one’s own will from compliance with that of others is not without its utility.

“I am now going to reply to that part of your letter in which you testify your surprise at the change which has taken place in my manner of thinking, a change which appears to have struck you in the last letters which I wrote to my father. You cry out against the severity of the principles which I have laid down; and add that, without being a prophet, you boldly predict my giving way before long to enthusiasm and all manner of bodily austerities, led on by the principles I have assumed.

“I am the less astonished, my dear brother, that you should thus speak, because it is the language of ninety-nine Christians of the present day out of every hundred, and because I myself for a long time thought like you on this point. In a certain sense, indeed, I always thought highly of religion, though at the bottom no one perhaps had less of it than I. My infancy was vicious, and my youth still more so. At eighteen I fell into what may properly be termed ‘enthusiasm;’ for though I lived in many habitual sins, yet because I was regularly present at public worship, not only on the Sunday, but during the week, I imagined myself religious. I made long prayers morning and evening, as well as frequently during the day. I devoted to the study of the prophecies, and to books of a religious character, all the time I could spare from my other studies.

“My feelings were easily excited, but my heart was rarely affected, and I was destitute of a sincere love to God, and consequently to my neighbour. All my hopes of salvation rested on my prayers, devotions, and a certain habit of saying, ‘Lord, I am a great sinner; pardon me for the sake of Jesus Christ.’ In the meantime I was ignorant of the fall and ruin in which every man is involved, the necessity of a Redeemer, and the way by which we may be rescued from the fall by receiving Christ with a living faith. I should have been quite confounded if any one had asked me the following questions: ‘Do you know that you are dead in Adam? Do you live to yourself? Do you live in Christ and for Christ? Does God rule in your heart? Do you experience that peace of God which passeth all understanding? Is the love of God shed abroad in your heart by the Holy Spirit?’ I repeat it, my dear brother, these questions would have astonished and confounded me, as they must every one who relies on the form of religion, and neglects its power and influence.

“My religion, alas! having a different foundation from that which is in Christ, was built merely on the sand; and no sooner did the winds and floods arise, than it tottered and fell to ruins. I formed an acquaintance with some Deists, at first with the design of converting them, and afterwards with the pretence of thoroughly examining their sentiments. But my heart, like that of Balaam, was not right with God. He abandoned me, and I enrolled myself in their party. A considerable change took place in my deportment. Before I had a form of religion, and now I lost it; but as to the state of my heart, it was precisely the same. I did not remain many weeks in this state; the Good Shepherd sought after me, a wandering sheep. Again I became professedly a Christian; that is, I resumed a regular attendance at church and the communion, and offered up frequent prayers in the name of Jesus Christ. There were also in my heart some sparks of true love to God, and some germs of genuine faith; but a connection with worldly characters, and an undue anxiety to promote my secular interests, prevented the growth of these Christian graces. Had I now been asked on what I founded my hopes of salvation, I should have replied, that I was not without some religion; that, so far from doing harm to any one, I wished well to all the world; that I resisted my passions; that I abstained from pleasures in which I had once indulged; and that if I was not so religious as some others, it was because such a degree of religion was unnecessary; that heaven might be obtained on easier terms; and that if I perished, the destruction of the generality of Christians was inevitable, which I could not believe was consistent with the mercy of God.

“I was in this state of mind when a dream, which I could not but consider as a warning from God, aroused me from my security.”

At great length Fletcher here relates his dream respecting the final judgment, and then continues:—

“For some days, I was so dejected and harassed in mind as to be unable to apply myself to anything. While in this state, I attempted to copy some music, when a servant entered my chamber. Having noticed my employment, he said, ‘I am surprised, Sir, that you, who know so many things, should forget what day this is, and that you should not be aware that the Lord’s day should be sanctified in a very different manner.’

“The sterling character of the man, his deep humility, his zeal for the glory of God, his love to his neighbours, and especially his patience, which enabled him to receive with joy the insults he met with from the whole family for Christ’s sake, and, above all, the secret energy which accompanied his words, deeply affected me, and convinced me more than ever of my real state. I was convinced, as it had been told me in my dream, that I was not renewed in the spirit of my mind, that I was not conformed to the image of God, and that without this the death of Christ would be of no avail for my salvation.”[^[6]]

About this period of his history, Fletcher seems to have become acquainted with the Methodists. Wesley says:—

“I have heard two very different accounts of the manner wherein he had the first notice of the people called Methodists; but I think it reasonable to prefer to any other that which I received from his own mouth. This was as follows:—

“When Mr. Hill went up to London to attend the Parliament, he took his family and Mr. Fletcher with him. While they stopped at St. Albans, he walked out into the town, and did not return till they were set out for London. A horse being left for him, he rode after, and overtook them in the evening. Mr. Hill asking him why he stayed behind, he said, ‘As I was walking, I met with a poor old woman, who talked so sweetly of Jesus Christ that I knew not how the time passed away.’ ‘I shall wonder,’ said Mrs. Hill, ‘if our tutor does not turn Methodist by-and-by.’ ‘Methodist, Madame!’ said he, ‘pray, what is that?’ She replied, ‘Why, the Methodists are a people that do nothing but pray; they are praying all day and all night.’ ‘Are they?’ said he; ‘then, by the help of God, I will find them out.’ He did find them out not long after, and was admitted into the society; and from this time, whenever he was in town, he met in Mr. Richard Edwards’s class. This he found so profitable to his soul that he lost no opportunity of meeting; and he retained a peculiar regard for Mr. Edwards till the day of his death.”[^[7]]

It was not, however, in Mr. Edwards’s class that Fletcher found peace with God. A few months after his decease, a 12 mo. pamphlet of sixty-four pages was published by his widow, entitled “A Letter to Mons. H. L. de la Fléchère, Assessor Ballival of Nyon, in the Canton of Berne, Switzerland, on the Death of his Brother, the Reverend John William de la Fléchère, Twenty-five Years Vicar of Madeley, Shropshire.” In that letter it is stated, that, “from the time he heard the Methodists, he became more and more conscious that some inward change was necessary to make him happy. He now began to ‘strive with the utmost diligence according to his light, hoping by much doing to render himself acceptable to God.’ But, one day, hearing a sermon preached by a clergyman, whose name was Green, he was convinced he did not understand the nature of saving faith. ‘Is it possible,’ said he, ‘that I who have always been accounted so religious, who have made divinity my study, and received the premium of piety (so called) from the university for my writings on divine subjects,—is it possible that I am yet so ignorant as not to know what faith is?’ But the more he examined, the more he was convinced of the momentous truth. He now became sensible of inbred sin, and sought, by the most rigorous austerities, to conquer an evil nature; but the more he strove, the more he saw and felt that all his soul was sin.”

Mrs. Fletcher continues the narrative of his conversion by giving the following extract from his diary:—

“1755. January 12.—I received the sacrament, though my heart was as hard as a flint. The following day, I felt the tyranny of sin more than ever, and an uncommon coldness in my religious duties. I felt the burden of my corruptions heavier than ever. The more I prayed for conquest over sin, the more I was conquered. The thoughts which engrossed my mind were generally these: I am undone. I have wandered from God. I have trampled under foot the frequent convictions God has been pleased to work upon my heart. Instead of going straight to Christ, I have lost my time in fighting against sin with the dim light of reason, and the use of the means of grace. I fear my notions of Christ are only speculative, and do not reach the heart. I never had faith, and without faith it is impossible to please God. Then every thought, word, and work of mine have only been sin and wickedness before God, though ever so specious before men. All my righteousness is as filthy rags. I am a very devil, though of an inferior sort, and if I am not renewed before I go hence, hell will be my portion to all eternity.

“When I saw that all my endeavours availed nothing towards my conquering sin, I almost resolved to sin on, and to go at last to hell. But, I remember, there was a sort of sweetness even in the midst of this abominable thought. If I go to hell, said I, I will still love God there; and since I cannot be an instance of His mercy in heaven, I will be an instance of His justice among the devils; and if I put forth His glory one way or the other, I am content.

“But I soon recovered the ground I had lost. Christ died for all, thought I; then He died for me; and, as I sincerely desire to be His, He will surely take me to Himself. He will surely let me know before I die that He died for me. But then, I thought, this may only be in my dying hour, and that is a long time to wait. But I answered thus: My Saviour was above thirty-three years working out my salvation; let me wait for Him as long, and then I may talk of impatience. Does God owe me anything? Is He bound to time and place? Do I deserve anything at His hands but damnation?

“So I went on, sinning and repenting, and sinning again; but still calling on God’s mercy through Christ. I was now beat out of all my strongholds of pride. I felt my helplessness, and lay at the foot of the throne of grace. I cried, though coldly, yet I believe sincerely, ‘Lord, save me! Give me justifying faith in Thy blood! Cleanse me from my sins!’ I seldom went to private prayer, but I thought, ‘Perhaps this is the happy hour when I shall prevail with God;’ but still I was disappointed.

“On Sunday, January 19, 1755, I heard an excellent sermon on, ‘Being justified by faith, we have peace with God, through our Lord Jesus Christ.’ I heard it attentively, but my heart was not moved. I was only more convinced that I was an unbeliever—that I was not justified by faith—and that I should never till then have peace with God. The hymn after the sermon suited the subject that had been treated of, but I could not join in singing it. I sat mourning, whilst others rejoiced in the Lord their Saviour.

“The following day, I begged of God to show me all the wickedness of my heart, and to fit me for His mercy. I besought Him to increase my convictions, for I was afraid I did not mourn enough for my sins. But I found relief in Mr. Wesley’s Journal, where I learned that we should not build on what we feel; but that we should go to Christ with all our sins and all our hardness of heart.

“On January 21, I began to write a confession of my sins, misery, and helplessness, together with a resolution to seek Christ even unto death; but, my business calling me away, I had no heart to go on with it. In the evening, I read the Scriptures, and found a sort of pleasure in seeing a picture of my wickedness so exactly drawn in the third chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, and that of my condition in the seventh; and now I felt some hope that God would finish in me the work He had begun.

“On Thursday, January 23, my fast-day, Satan beset me hard. I sinned grievously, and almost gave up all hope; I mourned deeply, but with a heart as hard as ever. I was on the brink of despair, and yet continued to fall into sin. In the evening, I went to my friend, Mr. B——, and told him something of my state. He strove to administer comfort, but it did not suit my light. When we parted, he gave me some advice which suited me better. ‘God,’ said he, ‘loves you, and if He denies you anything, it is for your good. You deserve nothing at His hands; wait then patiently for Him, and never give up your hope.’ I went home resolved to follow this advice, though I should stay till death.

“I had proposed to meet the Lord the following Sunday at His table, and therefore looked out a sacramental hymn. I learned it by heart, and prayed it over many times, and then went to bed, commending myself to God with rather more hope and peace than I had felt for some time. But Satan waked while I slept. I thought I committed that night in my sleep grievous and abominable sins. I awoke amazed and confounded, and rising with a detestation of the corruption of my senses and imagination, I fell upon my knees, and prayed with more faith and less wanderings than usual, and afterwards set about my business with an uncommon cheerfulness. It was not long before I was tempted to fall into my besetting sin, but I found myself a new creature. My soul was not even ruffled. Having withstood two or three temptations, and feeling peace in my soul through the whole of them, I began to think it was the Lord’s doing. Afterwards it was suggested to me that it was great presumption for such a sinner to hope for such a mercy. I prayed I might not be permitted to fall into a delusion; but the more I prayed, the more I saw it was real; for though sin stirred all the day long, I always overcame it in the name of the Lord.

“In the evening I read some of the experiences of God’s children, and found my case agreed with theirs, and suited the sermon I had heard on Justifying Faith. I called on the Lord for perseverance and an increase of faith, for still I felt some fear lest this should be all delusion. Having continued my supplication till near one in the morning, I then opened my Bible, and fell on these words, ‘Cast thy burden on the Lord, and He shall sustain thee. He will not suffer the righteous to be moved.’ Filled with joy, I fell again on my knees to beg of God that I might always cast my burden upon Him. I took up my Bible again, and fell on these words, ‘I will be with thee; I will not fail thee, neither forsake thee; fear not, neither be dismayed.’ My hope was now greatly increased, and I thought I saw myself conqueror over sin, hell, and all manner of affliction.

“With this beautiful promise I shut my Bible, and as I shut it I cast my eye on the words, ‘Whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, I will do it.’ So having asked perseverance and grace to serve God till death, I went cheerfully to take my rest.”

Such is Fletcher’s own account of his conversion. His widow added the following:—

“I subjoin what I have heard him speak concerning this time. He still pleaded with the Lord to take a fuller possession of his heart, and to give a fuller manifestation of His love, till one day, when in earnest prayer, and lying prostrate on his face, he saw, with the eye of faith, our Saviour on the cross, and at the same time these words were spoken with power to his heart:—

“‘Seiz’d by the rage of sinful men,

I see Christ bound and bruis’d and slain;

’Tis done, the Martyr dies!

His life to ransom ours is given,

And lo! the fiercest fire of heaven

Consumes the sacrifice.

“‘He suffers both from men and God;

He bears the universal load

Of guilt and misery!

He suffers to reverse our doom,

And lo! my Lord is here become

The bread of life to me.’

“Now all his bonds were broken. His freed soul began to breathe a purer air. Sin was beneath his feet. He could triumph in the Lord. From this time, he walked in the ways of God, and, thinking he had not leisure enough in the day, he made it a constant rule to sit up two whole nights in the week for reading, prayer, and meditation. At the same time, he lived on nothing but vegetables, and on bread with milk and water. One end of his doing this was to avoid dining in company. Besides sitting up two entire nights every week, his custom was never to sleep so long as he could keep awake, and he always took a candle and book with him to bed. One night, being overcome with sleep before he had put out his candle, he dreamed that his curtain, pillow, and cap were on fire, but went out without doing him any harm. And truly so it was, for in the morning his curtain was found burnt, also a corner of his pillow, and a part of his cap, but not a hair of his head was singed.

“Some time after this, he was favoured with a further manifestation of the love of God, so powerful, that, he said, it appeared to him as if his body and soul would be separated. Now all his desires centred in one, that of devoting himself to the service of his precious Master, which he thought he could best do by entering into holy orders.”[^[8]]

To complete the accounts of Fletcher’s conversion, in 1755, an extract from another letter must be added. In that year, writing to his brother, he insisted on the vanity of earthly pursuits, and then gave the following description of the change that had taken place in himself:—

“I speak from experience. I have been successively deluded by all those desires, and sometimes I have been the sport of them all at once. This will appear incredible, except to those who have discovered that the heart of unregenerate man is nothing more than a chaos of obscurity and a mass of contradictions. If you have any acquaintance with yourself, you will readily subscribe to this description of the human heart. Every unconverted man must necessarily be either a voluptuary, a worldly-minded person, or a pharisaical philosopher: or, perhaps, like myself, he may be all of these at the same time; and, what is still more extraordinary, he may be so not only without believing, but even without once suspecting it; indeed, nothing is more common among men than an entire blindness to their own real characters. How often have I placed my happiness in mere chimeras! How often have I grounded my vain hope upon imaginary foundations! I have been constantly employed in framing designs for my own felicity; but my disappointments have been as frequent and various as my projects.

“If, hitherto, my dear brother, you have beguiled yourself with prospects of the same visionary nature, never expect to be more successful in your future pursuits. One labour will only succeed another, making way for continual discontent and chagrin. Open your heart, and there you will discover the source of that painful inquietude to which, by your own confession, you have been long a prey. Examine its secret recesses, and you will discover there sufficient proof of the following truths: ‘The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked;’ ‘All have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;’ ‘The thoughts of man’s heart are only evil, and that continually;’ ‘The natural man understandeth not the things of the Spirit of God.’ On the discovery of these and other important truths, you will be convinced that man is an apostate being, composed of a sensual, rebellious body, and a soul immersed in pride, self-love, and ignorance; nay more, you will perceive it a physical impossibility that man should ever become truly happy till he is cast, as it were, into a new mould, and created a second time.

“For my own part, when I first began to know myself, I saw, I felt that man is an undefinable animal, partly of a bestial and partly of an infernal nature. The discovery shocked my self-love, and filled me with the utmost horror. I endeavoured for some time to throw a palliating disguise over the wretchedness of my condition, but the impression it had already made upon my heart was too deep to be erased. It was to no purpose that I reminded myself of the morality of my conduct; it was in vain that I recollected the many encomiums that had been passed upon my early piety and virtue; and it was to little avail that I sought to cast a mist before my eyes by reasonings like these: ‘If conversion implies a total change, who has been converted in these days? Why dost thou imagine thyself worse than thou really art? Thou art a believer in God and in Christ; thou art a Christian; thou hast injured no person; thou art neither a drunkard nor an adulterer; thou hast discharged thy duties not only in a general way, but with more than ordinary exactness; thou art a strict attendant at church; thou art accustomed to pray more regularly than others, and frequently with a good degree of fervour; make thyself perfectly easy; moreover, Jesus Christ has suffered for thy sins, and His merit will supply everything lacking on thy part.’

“It was by reasonings of this nature that I endeavoured to conceal[conceal] from myself the deplorable state of my heart; and I am ashamed, my dear brother, that I suffered myself so long to be deluded by the artifices of Satan. God Himself has invited me; a cloud of apostles, prophets, and martyrs have exhorted me; and my own conscience, animated by those sparks of grace which are latent in every heart, has urged me to enter in at the strait gate; but, notwithstanding all this, a subtle temper, a deluding world, and a deceived heart have constantly turned the balance, for above these twenty years, in favour of the broad way. I have passed the most lovely part of my life in the service of these tyrannical masters, and am ready to declare in the face of the universe that all my reward has consisted in disquietude and remorse. Happy had I listened to the earliest invitations of grace, and broken the iron yoke from off my neck.”[^[9]]

These extracts are long, but they are important. They contain all the known facts connected with Fletcher’s conversion.

In writing to his brother, Fletcher remarked,—“At eighteen years of age, I devoted as much time as I could spare to read the prophecies of the Holy Bible;” and it is a curious fact that, in the year of his conversion, he wrote a long letter to Wesley, in which he gave a synopsis of the writings of “a great divine abroad,” who had “spent fifty years in making himself perfectly master of the Oriental languages, and in comparing and explaining the various predictions scattered in the Old and New Testaments.” Fletcher was well acquainted with this gentleman, and had many times conversed with him on the subjects of his lifelong study. Substantially, the young man had adopted the aged man’s views; and now, in a condensed form (filling, however, nineteen octavo printed pages), he presented them to Wesley. At the time, terrific wars were being waged, and, a month before the date of Fletcher’s letter, the great earthquake at Lisbon had occurred. At such seasons, devout men almost instinctively begin to study prophecies, and hence no wonder that Fletcher now felt more than ordinarily interested in what, “for some years, had often been the subject of his meditations.” He believed that “the grand catastrophe of God’s drama drew near apace,” and gave his reasons for such belief by referring first to Nebuchadnezzar’s dream, “which is a rough sketch of the world’s four universal revolutions;” secondly, to Daniel’s vision of the four beasts; and thirdly, to Daniel’s vision of the ram and he-goat, and the two thousand and three hundred days, at the end of which the “sanctuary” was to “be cleansed.” Fletcher, by elaborate calculations, shows that this cleansing was to take place between the years 1750 and 1770, and the following extract will indicate what, in his opinion, the cleansing meant:—

“God is now working such a work as has not been seen since the Apostles’ days. He has sent some chosen servants of His, both in these kingdoms and abroad, who, by the manifest assistance of the Holy Spirit, have removed the filthy doctrine of justification by works, and the outward Christless performance of moral duties, which pollute the sanctuary and make it an abomination to the Lord. The Holy Ghost is given, and the love of God is shed abroad in the hearts of believers as in the days of old. I own that the cleansing is but begun; but this revolution[^[10]] may, in all probability, be the forerunner of a greater. God has called; a few have obeyed His call. The generality still shut their eyes and ears against the tender invitations of their Lord, and continue to pollute the sanctuary and to look on the blood of the Lamb as an unholy thing. Shall not God carry on His work? Shall the creature still resist the Creator? and the arm of flesh be stronger than the living God? Not so. He will not always strive with obdurate hearts. What the gentle breathings of His Spirit cannot perform, He will do by war, sword and fire, plague and famine, tribulation and anguish. He is going to gird on His sword, and His right hand shall teach Him terrible things. Nations refuse the sceptre of His mercy; what remains, then, but to rule them with an iron sceptre, and break them in pieces like a potter’s vessel?”

Fletcher concludes by arguing in favour of the doctrine, that, long before the general judgment Christ will appear on earth a second time to work out His great redeeming purposes.

“Give me leave, Rev. Sir,” says he, “to propose to you a thing that many will look upon as a great paradox, but has yet sufficient ground in Scripture to raise the expectation of every Christian who sincerely looks for the coming of our Lord; I mean the great probability that, in the midst of this grand revolution, our Lord Jesus will suddenly come down from heaven, and go Himself conquering and to conquer; for what but the greatest prejudice can induce Christians to think that the coming of our Lord, spoken of in so plain terms by three evangelists, is His last coming before the universal judgment and the end of the world?”[^[11]]

There cannot be a doubt that, at this period of his life, Fletcher was what is commonly called a Millenarian. Whether his views were right or wrong, the reader must determine for himself.

When resident at Tern Hall, Fletcher attended the parish church at Atcham, a small village about five miles from Shrewsbury. Here the Rev. Mr. Cartwright was the officiating minister,[^[12]] and was accustomed to catechise in public the children of his parishioners. On one occasion, he invited the adults who needed instruction to appear in the ranks of the catechumens, and told them that to do so would be no disgrace to them. All, however, except Fletcher, either thought that to stand among the young people would disgrace them, or that further instruction in their case was not needed. The accomplished young scholar from Switzerland, the tutor of the two sons of their county member, had a lower opinion of his excellences than the village peasants had of theirs; for, leaving his seat with an air of unaffected modesty, he took his place among the children, and became a catechumen of the village pastor.[^[13]]

At Atcham, Fletcher became acquainted with Mr. Vaughan, an excise officer, who gave to Wesley the following account of his deeply-revered friend:—

“It was our ordinary custom, when the church service was over, to retire into the most lonely fields or meadows, where we frequently either kneeled down, or prostrated ourselves on the ground. At those happy seasons, I was a witness of such pleadings and wrestlings with God, such exercises of faith and love, as I have not known in any one ever since. The consolations, which we then received from God, induced us to appoint two or three nights in a week, when we duly met, after his pupils were asleep. We met also constantly on Sunday, between four and five in the morning. Sometimes I stepped into his study on other days. I rarely saw any book before him, besides the Bible and the Christian Pattern.”

“Our interviews for singing and conversation were seldom concluded without prayer, in which we were frequently joined by her who is now my wife (then a servant in the family), and by a poor widow in the village, who had known the power of God unto salvation, and who died some years ago, praising God with her latest breath. These were the only persons in the village whom he chose for his familiar friends; but he sometimes walked to Shrewsbury, to see Mrs. Glynne or Mr. Appleton. He also visited the poor in the neighbourhood who were sick; and, when no other person could be procured, performed even the meanest offices for them.”

Besides the godly friends mentioned in this interesting statement, Fletcher had another acquaintance at Atcham, whom he visited to be instructed in singing. This gentleman supplied Wesley with what follows:—

“I remember but little of that man of God, Mr. Fletcher, it being above nine-and-twenty years since I last saw him; but this I well remember, his conversation with me was always sweet and savoury. He was too wise to suffer any of his precious moments to be trifled away. When company dined at Mr. Hill’s, he frequently retired into the garden, and contentedly dined on a piece of bread and a few bunches of currants. Indeed, in his whole manner of living he was a pattern of abstemiousness. Meantime, how great was his sweetness of temper and heavenly-mindedness! I never saw it equalled in any one. How often, when I parted with him at Tern Hall, have his eyes and hands been lifted up to heaven, to implore a blessing upon me, with fervour and devoutness unequalled by any I ever witnessed. I firmly believe he has not left in this land, or perhaps in any other, one luminary like himself.”[^[14]]

These glimpses of Fletcher, at this early period of his life, are too valuable and important to be omitted.

It is impossible to determine the exact date when he joined the Methodist Society in London, but there can be no doubt that it was as early as the year 1756, and probably a year or two earlier. Hence the following extract from a letter addressed to Mr. Richard Edwards, the leader of the London class in which Fletcher had been enrolled a member:—

“Tern, October 19, 1756.

“Dearest Brother,—This is to let you know that I am very well in body and pretty well in soul; but I have very few friends here, and God has been pleased to take away the chief of those few by a most comfortable death. My aged father also is gone the way of all flesh. For some years, I have written to him with as much freedom as I could have done to a son, though not with so much effect as I wished. But, last spring, God visited him with a severe illness, which brought him to a sense of himself; and, after a deep repentance, he died about a month ago, in the full assurance of faith.”[^[15]]

Fletcher, at Geneva, had refused to enter the Christian ministry; now he entertained the most serious thoughts of devoting himself to it; but before doing so he wrote to Wesley, with whom he had become acquainted.

“Tern, November 24, 1756.

“Rev. Sir,—As I look on you as my spiritual guide, and cannot doubt of your patience to hear, and your experience to answer, a serious question proposed by any of your people, I freely lay my case before you.

“Since the first time I began to feel the love of God shed abroad in my heart, which was, I think, when seven years of age, I resolved to give myself up to Him and the service of His Church, if ever I was fit for it; but the corruption which is in the world, and that which was in my heart, soon weakened, if not erased, those first characters that grace had wrote upon it. However, I went through my studies with a design of going into Orders; but afterwards, upon serious reflection, feeling I was unequal for so great a burden, and disgusted by the necessity I should be under to subscribe to the doctrine of predestination, I yielded to the desire of my friends, who would have me go into the army. But just before I was quite engaged in a military employment, I met with such disappointments as occasioned my coming to England. Here I was called outwardly three times to go into Orders; but, upon praying to God that if those calls were not from Him they might come to nothing, something always blasted the designs of my friends; and in this I have often admired the goodness of God, who prevented me rushing into that important employment, as the horse does into the battle. I never was more thankful for this favour than since I heard the Gospel preached in its purity. Before, I had been afraid; but then I trembled to meddle with holy things, and resolved to work out my salvation privately, without engaging in a way of life which required so much more grace and gifts than I possessed. Yet, from time to time, I felt warm and strong desires to cast myself and all my inability upon the Lord, if I should be called again, knowing that He could help me, and show His strength in my weakness; and these desires were increased by some little success that attended my exhortations and letters to my friends.

“I think it necessary to let you know, Sir, that my patron often desired me to take Orders, and said he would soon help me to a living; to which I coldly answered, I was not fit, and that besides I did not know how to get a title. The thing was in that state when, about six weeks ago, a gentleman I hardly knew offered me a living, which, in all probability, will be vacant very soon; and a clergyman, that I never spoke to, gave me, of his own accord, the title of curate to one of his livings. Now, Sir, the question which I beg you to decide is, whether I must and can make use of that title to get into Orders? For with respect to the living, were it vacant, I have no mind to it, because I think I could preach with more fruit in my own country and in my own tongue.

“I am in suspense; on one side, my heart tells me I must try, and it tells me so whenever I feel any degree of the love of God and man; but, on the other, when I examine whether I am fit for it, I so plainly see my want of gifts, and especially of that soul of all the labours of a minister of the Gospel—love, continual, universal, flaming love, that my confidence disappears; I accuse myself of pride to dare to entertain the desire of supporting the ark of the Lord, and conclude that an extraordinary punishment will sooner or later overtake my rashness. As I am in both these frames successively, I must own, Sir, I do not see plainly which of the two ways before me I can take with safety, and I shall be glad to be ruled by you, because I trust God will direct you in giving me the advice you think will best conduce to His glory, the only thing I would have in view in this affair. I know how precious is your time; I desire no long answer;—persist or forbear will satisfy and influence, Sir, your unworthy servant,

“J. Fletcher.”[^[16]]

Wesley’s answer to this important letter has not been preserved. Perhaps no letter was written. Wesley was now in London. Parliament met eight days after Fletcher wrote to him. Public affairs were in a critical condition, and, no doubt, Mr. Hill would feel it a duty to be present at the opening of the session. When he came to London to fulfil his parliamentary duties, it was his custom to bring his sons and their tutor with him. That Fletcher was now in London is evident from the following letter, addressed to Wesley within three weeks after the date of his former one. Of course, he would have an interview with Wesley as early as possible, and in all likelihood Wesley, at this interview, not only advised him to be ordained, but likewise dissuaded him from his purpose to return to Switzerland. There is no reference in the letter to Fletcher’s proposed ordination, for, doubtless, that was a matter already settled. Fletcher had been attending sacramental services in Wesley’s London chapels; and it had occurred to him that these services might be much improved, and Wesley himself considerably relieved. To say the least, the letter is full of interest, and contains a hint which, in large societies, might be profitably adopted.

“December 13, 1756.

“Sir,—When I have received the sacrament in your chapels, though I admired the order and decency with which that awful part of the divine worship was performed, I thought there was something wanting, which might make it still more profitable and solemn.

“As the number of communicants is generally very great, the time spent in receiving is long enough for many, I am afraid, to feel their devotion languish, and their desires grow cold, for want of outward fuel. In order to prevent this, you interrupt, from time to time, the service of the table, to put up a short prayer, or to sing a verse or two of a hymn; and I do not doubt but many have found the benefit of that method. But, as you can spare very little time, you are obliged to be satisfied with scattering those few drops, instead of a continual rain. Would not that want be easily supplied, Sir, if you were to appoint the preachers who may be present to do what you cannot possibly do yourself, to pray and sing without interruption, as at a watchnight?

“This would have several good effects: 1. Experience, as well as the nature of the thing itself, shows every sincere seeker that, as it is the fittest time to ask, and the most ordinary to receive grace, every moment ought to be improved to the best advantage. 2. Continual praying and singing would prevent the wanderings of many, who are not convinced of sin deeply enough, or influenced by grace strongly enough, to mourn and pray without interruption, if they are left to themselves. 3. It would increase the earnestness of believers; for though every one wrestles probably in his own heart both for himself and the congregation, yet their prayers would certainly have more power if united, and the general fire would increase the warmth of their affections. 4. In praying frequently for universal love, as the remembrance of Christ’s bleeding love naturally directs us to do, you would add for many the benefit and comfort of a lovefeast to the advantages that attend the Holy Eucharist. 5. If the prayers were especially calculated for those that receive, is it not probable, Sir, that they would be extremely encouraged to act faith, to touch the hem of Christ’s garment, to cast their burden upon Him, and to lay hold of eternal life, if they heard their weak petitions supported by the fervent prayers of their brethren, at the same time that they feed, or are going to feed, on the blessed signs of Christ’s body and blood?

“It may be objected:—1. That some may prefer to pour out their souls before God according to their different frames, whether it be deadness, desertion, joy, overflowings of humility, repentance, love, etc. And so they might; but I do not see how general prayer and singing would rob them of that liberty, if they thought it more acceptable to God and beneficial to themselves; and their praying in private would not hinder the bulk of the congregation from uniting with joy in the public service. 2. That this method might bring in a confusion greater than the advantages it seems to be attended with. But could not prudence obviate this? I am sure it could; for I have seen that, or something like it, performed in a congregation of a thousand communicants without the least confusion, and to the great edification and comfort of many.

“But you are the best judge, Sir; and if I take the liberty of giving you this hint, to make of it what use you think fit, it is because you said lately in the Society that you heard willingly the observations of your people, and were ready to follow or improve them if they were just and reasonable.

“I am, Sir, your unworthy servant,

“John Fletcher.”[^[17]]

Within three months after this, Fletcher was ordained. On Sunday, March 6, 1757, he received deacon’s orders from the Bishop of Hereford; and priest’s orders on the Sunday following from the Bishop of Bangor, in the Chapel Royal at St. James’s.[^[18]]

On the day he was ordained priest, he hastened to Snowsfields Chapel, to assist Wesley in one of those heavy sacramental services referred to in the foregoing letter. Wesley writes:—

“1757, Sunday, March 13. Finding myself weak at Snowsfields, I prayed (if He saw good) that God would send me help at the chapel, and I had it. As soon as I had done preaching, Mr. Fletcher came, who had just been ordained priest, and hastened to the chapel on purpose to assist me in the administration of the Lord’s supper, as he supposed me to be alone.

“Sunday, March 20. Mr. Fletcher helped me again. How wonderful are the ways of God! When my bodily strength failed, and none in England were able and willing to assist me, He sent me help from the mountains of Switzerland, and an helpmeet for me in every respect; where could I have found such another?”[^[19]]

Thus did Fletcher begin his remarkable ministerial life in a Methodist meeting-house.

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.