Fletcher of Madeley

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6. Have I made the most of my precious time, as far as I had light,
strength, and opportunity?

7. Have I kept the issues of my heart in the means of grace, so as to
profit by them?

8. What have I done this day for the souls and bodies of God's dear
saints?

9. Have I laid out anything to please myself when I might have saved
the money for the cause of God?

10. Have I governed well my tongue this day, remembering that "in a
multitude of words there wanteth not sin"?

11. In how many instances have I denied myself this day?

12. Do my life and conversation adorn the Gospel of Jesus Christ?

By way of encouraging others to keep themselves thus in touch with
God, Fletchcr formed what he called a _Religious Society_, into
whose fellowship he brought all he could whom he found desirous of
living the life of full salvation which he everywhere advocated. He
laid before them a set of home-questions which he urged upon them as a
useful form of self-examination. A sample of these will show how
practical was the religion he both lived and preached.

"Do I feel any pride? Am I dead to all desire of praise? If any
despise me, do I like them the worse for it? Or if they love and
approve me, do I love them more on that account? Is Christ the life of
all my affections and designs, as my soul is the life of my body? Have
I always the presence of God?...Am I saved from the fear of man? ...
Am I always ready to confess Christ, to suffer with His people, and to
die for His sake?...Am I willing to give up my ease and convenience
to oblige others, or do I expect them to do so to my hours, ways, and
customs?...Do I never take that glory to myself which belongs to
Christ?...Am I courteous, not severe; suiting myself to all with
sweetness; striving to give no one pain, but to gain and win all for
their good?...Do I perform the most servile offices, such as require
labour and humiliation, with cheerfulness?...Is every thought
brought into subjection to Christ?...Do I think no evil, listen to
no groundless surmises, nor judge from appearances? How am I in my
sleep? If Satan presents any evil imagination, does my will
immediately resist or give way to it? Do I bear the infirmities of age
or sickness without seeking to repair the decays of nature by strong
liquors? Or do I make Christ my sole support, casting the burden of a
feeble body into the arms of His mercy?"

CHAPTER XV.

Sanctified Letter-Writing.

Fletcher's correspondence was an unusually heavy one; his letters make
quite as spiritual reading as his sermons, yet he gave the choicest of
reasons for _not_ writing to one man who expected a letter: "Tell
Mr. Keen," he wrote to Whitefield, "I am a letter in his debt, and
_postpone writing it till I have had such a sight of Christ as to
breathe His love through every line_."

Many pearls of thought were contained in these epistles; while the
advice in them was quaintly put, it was always helpful, and never
hurled at random.

"Your dulness in private prayer," wrote he to Miss Hatton, "arises
from the want of familiar friendship with Jesus. To obviate it, go to
your closet as if you were going to meet your dearest friend; cast
yourself at His feet, bemoan your coldness, extol His love to you, and
let your heart break with a desire to love Him. Get _recollection_
--a dwelling within ourselves--a being abstracted from the creature
and turned towards God. For want of such a frame, our times of prayer
are frequently dry and useless; imagination prevails, and the heart
wanders, whereas we pass easily from recollection to delightful
prayer."

To the same person, however, he recommended the cultivation of a
wholesome naturalness in religion which would ensure acknowledgment of
its beauty in those around her:--

"There is no sin in _looking cheerful_. '_Rejoice
evermore_'; and if it is our duty always to be _filled with
joy_, it is our duty to _appear_ what we are in reality. I
hope, however, your friends know how to distinguish between
_cheerfulness_ and _levity_.

"Beware of stiff singularity in things _barely indifferent_: it
is _self_ in disguise; and it is so much the more dangerous when
it comes recommended by a serious, self-denying, religious
appearance."

It is evident from a glance at his correspondence that Fletcher's
extremely frugal habits and large generosity to others gave not a
little anxiety to those who loved him. A wealthy merchant of Bristol,
named Mr. Ireland, a constant, true, and close friend, sent him a
parcel of broadcloth as a gift, beseeching him kindly not to send his
coat again to be patched. His thanks were thus concluded:--

"Your broadcloth can lap me round two or three times; but the mantle
of Divine love, the precious fine robe of Jesus's righteousness, can
cover your soul a thousand times. The cloth, fine and good as it is,
will not keep out a hard shower; but that garment of salvation will
keep out even a shower of brimstone and fire. Your cloth will wear
out; but that fine linen, the righteousness of saints, will appear
with a finer lustre the more it is worn. The moth may fret your
present, or the tailor may spoil it in cutting it, but the present
which Jesus has made you is out of reach of the spoiler, and ready for
present wear. Let me beseech you, my dear friend, to accept of this
heavenly present as I accept of your earthly one. I did not send you
one farthing to purchase it; it came unsought, unasked, unexpected, as
the seed of the woman came. It came just as I was sending a tailor to
buy me cloth for a new coat, and I hope when you next see me it will
be in your present; now let Jesus see you in His. Accept it freely.
Wear no more the old rusty coat of nature and self-righteousness. Send
no more to have it _patched_. Make your boast of an unbought
suit, and love to wear the livery of Jesus."

John Fletcher's letters all tended to the same point as his sermons--a
personal appeal to the soul to whom he addressed himself. To the Rev.
Joseph Benson he wrote:--

"The few professors I see in these parts are so far from what I could
wish them and myself to be, that I cannot but cry out, 'Lord, how long
wilt Thou give Thine heritage to desolation and barrenness? How long
shall the heathen say, Where is now their indwelling God?' I hope it
is better with you in the north. What are your heart, your pen, your
tongue doing? Are they receiving, sealing, spreading the truth
everywhere within your sphere? Are you dead to praise or dispraise?
Could you quietly pass for a mere fool, and have gross nonsense
fathered upon you without any uneasy reflection of self? The Lord
bless you! Beware of your grand enemy, earthly wisdom and unbelieving
reasonings. You will never overcome but by child-like, loving
simplicity."

In writing to his schoolmaster at Madeley, the Vicar gives a real
home-thrust, yet in so kindly a manner that it could hardly be
resented:--

"If I were not a minister I would be a _schoolmaster_, to have the
pleasure of bringing up children in the fear of the Lord. That
pleasure is yours, relish it, and it will comfort and strengthen you
in your work. The joy of the Lord and of charity is our strength.
Salute the children from me, and tell them I long to show them the way
to happiness and Heaven. Have you mastered the stiffness and shyness
of your temper? Charity gives a _meekness, an affability, a child-
like simplicity and openness_, which nature has denied you. Let me
find you shining by these virtues, and you will revive me much. God
bless your labour about the sheep and the lambs!"

An insight into his own persevering way of working may well be gained
from the directions he give's in a letter written from Bristol to Mr.
Wase, of Madeley:--

"MY DEAR BROTHER,--Go to Mrs. Cound, and tell her I charge her, in the
name of God, to give up the world, to set out with all speed for
Heaven, and to join the few about her who fear God. If she refuses,
call again; call weekly, if not daily, and warn her from me till she
is ripe for glory.... Give my love to George Crannage; tell him to
make haste to Christ, and not to doze away his last days."

To the whole of his parishioners he wrote, on one occasion, an epistle
through which we gain a glimpse of the tenderness and beauty of his
spirit, chastened still more, as it then was, by affliction:--

"MY DEAR COMPANIONS IN TRIBULATION,--All the children of God I love;
but of all the children of God, none have so great a right, to my love
as you. Your stated or occasional attendance on my poor ministry, as
well as the bonds of neighbourhood, and the many happy hours I have
spent with you before the throne of Grace, endear you peculiarly to
me. . . .

"I sometimes feel a desire of being buried where you are buried, and
of having my bones lie in a common earthen bed with yours; but I soon
resign that wish, and exult in thinking that, whatever distance there
may be between our graves, we can now bury our sins, cares, doubts,
and fears, in the one grave of our Divine Saviour. If I, your poor
unworthy shepherd, am smitten, be not scattered, but rather be more
closely gathered unto Christ, and keep near each other in faith and
love, till you all receive our second Comforter and Advocate, the Holy
Ghost, the third Person in our _Covenant God._ He is with you;
but if you plead the promise of the Father, 'which,' says Christ, 'ye
have heard of Me, He will be _in_ you.' He will fill your souls
with His light, love, und glory, according to that verse which we have
so often sung together:--

"Refining Fire, go through my heart,
Illuminate my soul;
Scatter Thy life through every part,
And sanctify the whole.

"This indwelling of the Comforter perfects the mystery of
sanctification in the believer's soul. This is the highest blessing of
the Christian covenant on earth. Rejoicing in God our Creator, in God
our Redeemer, let us look for the full comfort of God our Sanctifier.
So shall we live and die in the faith, going on from faith to faith,
from strength to strength, from comfort to comfort, till Christ is all
in all to us all."

CHAPTER XVI.

AN UNFORTUNATE PURCHASE.

Mary Bosanquet was doomed to suffer through her friends. She was
greatly tried by interfering advisers, and through ill-given counsel
she took steps which caused anxieties to thicken and debts to
accumulate. It was anything but an easy life, yet it was illuminated
by wonderful answers to prayer. On one occasion she had to find a
large sum of money in the course of a day or two.

"You had better borrow it until your own half-yearly cheque comes in,"
said Mrs. Ryan.

They tried, but were unsuccessful. Miss Bosanquet went to prayer, and
it seemed to her as if the Lord Jesus Christ stood by her side and
repeated some words she had lately read: "Christ charges Himself with
all your temporal affairs, while you charge yourself with those that
relate to His glory." Such power accompanied the utterance as "wiped
away every care," as she put it to herself. While yet she thanked her
Lord for His promise a knock came to her door. A man had called to
bring her just the amount she needed.

Not a little trouble came to Mary Bosanquet through a Miss Lewen who
stayed in her house, received much good, and was nursed through an
illness which proved unto death.

Many ill-natured persons credited the kindly hostess with an effort to
secure Miss Lewen's fortune for her work, but the reverse was the
case, she having cost the little House of Mercy many pounds without
contributing anything towards it.

A man named Richard Taylor was her next trial--a debtor and
improvident, with a wife and family of small children. Being
recommended to her good graces, he stayed for a time in her household
while trying to arrange with his creditors. He accompanied Miss
Bosanquet, Mrs. Ryan, and Mrs. Crosby upon a troublesome journey to
Yorkshire, taken with the double purpose of benefiting Sarah Ryan's
fast-failing health, and of seeking a larger and more suitable Orphan
Home than the one in Leytonstone. The latter object was accomplished,
but Mrs. Ryan gradually sank, and to her friend's great sorrow they
had to bury her in the old churchyard of Leeds.

The northern Home involved three times the work required by the other;
wheat had to be ground to flour before home-made bread could be baked,
cows managed and milked, men-servants overlooked; all the details, in
fact, of a country house and a large household came under review. This
alone would have brought more than enough responsibility, but on the
advice of Richard Taylor and another Yorkshire friend, Miss Bosanquet
unfortunately bought a farm with malt-kilns attached, and began to
build a house suitable for the size of her family.

The investment turned out an unhappy failure. The work of God
prospered mightily, but the settling of Taylor's affairs cost her
between £200 and £300; the house was an inn-of-call for all Methodists
travelling through the district (which could not be without incurring
much expense); the farm and kilns swallowed increasingly large sums of
money, and Taylor was an extravagant manager.

Had it not been for the unfailing kindness and help of a gentleman who
many times proposed to Miss Bosanquet in vain, she would have come out
of the affair penniless. Friends greatly urged this marriage upon her.
Her rule in these cases was to ask herself, "Should I be holier or
happier with this man?" The answer was invariably "No!" and in this
particular instance the thought of her saintly friend at Madeley arose
to make the idea doubly disagreeable to her.

In great distress, she began to live on bread and water in order to
economise, and go no further into debt, but the night following this
forlorn effort God came very near and comforted her with the promise
of deliverance in a way she knew not. She says:--

"He showed me (by a light on my understanding) that all my trials were
appointed by Himself; that they were laid on by weight and measure,
and should go no farther than they would work for my good. . . . I had
depended on creatures for help, and therefore He had let me feel the
weight of my burdens, that I might be constrained to cast them afresh
on Him; and that, when He had proved and tried me, He would deliver me
from all my outward burdens. As a pledge of the inward liberty He
would afterwards bring me into, and that the ways and means of my
deliverance were in His own hands, and should appear in the appointed
time, those words were again brought powerfully to my mind--'If thou
...put away iniquity far from thy tabernacles.... Yea, the Almighty
shall be thy defence, and thou shalt have plenty of silver...and
shalt lift up thy face unto God.... Thou shalt also decree a thing,
and it shall be established unto thee; and the light shall shine upon
thy ways.'...It was a profitable and melting time."

Thus, even in the midst of her troubles, was Mary Bosanquet comforted
of God.

CHAPTER XVII.

The College of Trevecca.

An important episode in the life of John Fletcher was his association
with the College of Trevecca, opened by the Countess of Huntingdon,
for young men who desired to devote themselves to the service of
Christ. A gratuitous education for three years, with lodging, board,
and clothing, was provided for each student, the young men being
afterwards free to enter whatever church they preferred.

Above all, it was important that the College should have a President
whose advice could be relied upon concerning the choice, conduct and
work of both masters and students--practically an unsalaried head of
affairs. To this post was called the Vicar of Madeley, and though
naturally unable to be resident in the College, he accepted the duties
of President, and, as such, gave most valuable service.

A little later than this Fletcher undertook to be Chaplain (one of
three) to the Earl of Buchan, who was known as one of the most devoted
Christians of his rank.

Notwithstanding these duties, Fletcher's work became increasingly
itinerant in character. Wesley says:--

"For many years he regularly preached at places eight, ten, and
sixteen miles off, returning the same night, though he seldom got home
before one or two in the morning. At a little Society which he had
gathered about six miles from Madeley, he preached two or three times
a week, beginning at five in the morning.... In some of his journeys
he had not only difficulties, but dangers likewise, to encounter. One
day, as he was riding over a wooden bridge, just as he got to the
middle thereof, it broke in. The mare's forelegs sank into the river,
but her breast and hinder parts were kept up by the bridge. In that
position she lay as still as if she had been dead, till he got over
her neck and took off his bags, in which were several MSS., the
spoiling of which would have occasioned much trouble. He then
endeavoured to raise her up, but she would not stir till he went over
the other part of the bridge. But no sooner did he set his feet upon
the ground than she began to plunge. Immediately the remaining part of
the bridge broke down and sunk with her into the river. But presently
she rose and swam to him."

Other adventures befell Fletcher in his travels, some of them ending
in the narrowest escapes from injury and death.

In the early part of the year 1770 Fletcher visited Italy, France, and
his native Switzerland, with his friend Mr. Ireland. Few details are
preserved, but it seems to have been an uncommonly lively tour. Mr.
Ireland tells of the Vicar's enthusiasm for unmasking various
practices of the Italian priests, which placed them frequently in
danger of their lives.

During this trip they met with a classical scholar who said he had
"travelled all over Europe, and had passed through all the societies
in England to find a person whose life corresponded with the Gospels
and with Paul's Epistles." Almost defiantly he demanded of Mr. Ireland
if he knew a single clergyman or Dissenting minister in his native
land possessed of £100 a year who would not desert his living for any
other if offered double that amount. Mr. Ireland triumphantly pointed
to his travelling companion, saying, "_That_ man would not!"

The traveller turned to Mr. Fletcher and began a religious argument,
which the two kept up at intervals for a whole week. The Vicar
overcame his opponent again and again, and though the latter lost his
temper continually over his repeated defeats, the calm, sweet
reasonableness of Fletcher's spirit, as much as the overwhelming
weight of his arguments for Jesus Christ, made a lasting impression
upon his mind. Eight years later he showed his appreciation by
becoming the Vicar's host in Provence, and treating him with the
greatest reverence and attention.

While in Paris he was sent for to visit a sick woman. Information
having been given to a magistrate which ascribed to him wrong motives,
a garbled case was got up, and an order of apprehension was issued
from the King. An officer called at the house where the friends were
staying to serve the order. Mr. Ireland stepped out and, without
mentioning his name, said quietly, "Sir, have you an order for me?" "I
have," responded the officer, taking him for Fletcher. They went off
together, and Mr. Fletcher was well out of the city before the
magistrate disgustedly discovered the mistake.

When in the south of France, Fletcher determined to visit the
Protestants of the Cevennes Mountains, and nothing would serve him but
that he should perform the long and difficult journey on foot, with
but a staff in his hand. He disdained to appear well cared for, and on
horseback, at the doors of those whose fathers were hunted for their
faith from rock to rock. He set out in his own fashion, therefore; on
the first night of his travels begging the use of a chair in some
humble cottage until morning. The peasant was reluctant to admit his
strange guest, but when he had heard him talk and pray, himself, no
less than his wife and children, were affected to tears. "I nearly
refused to let a stranger into my house," related the peasant to his
neighbours, "but when he came I found more angel than man."

Nor was this the only person who held such an opinion. Wesley tells of
another visit paid by the Vicar upon his way to call upon a minister
of the district. A little crowd was assembled at the door of a house
where a mother and her newly-born child were dying. The room was also
filled with neighbours. Fletcher went in, spoke gently to the people
present of the effects of the sin of our first parent, and pointed
them to Jesus. "Jesus!" he exclaimed, "He is able to raise the dead,
to save you all from sin, to save these from death. Come, let us ask
Him!"

In prayer he had wondrous liberty. The child's convulsions ceased, the
mother became easy, and strength flowed into her as he prayed. The
neighbours gazed astonished, and silently withdrew, whispering to one
another when without the house, "_Certainly it was an angel!_"

On their journey from France to Italy the travellers arrived at the
Appian Way. Fletcher stopped the carriage and descended, remarking to
his friend, "I cannot _ride_ over ground where the Apostle Paul
once _walked,_ chained to a soldier;" and taking off his hat he
walked up the old Roman road praising God for the glorious Gospel
preached by His servant of long ago.

Nor was this affectation upon Fletcher's part. Nothing was further
from his thoughts at any time than to _make an impression_ upon
those around him. Perhaps for this very reason the mark he did make
was indelible. No man ever spent an hour with the Vicar of Madeley
without being spiritually better for it.

Arrived at Nyon, he was pressed to occupy several pulpits. Crowds
flocked after him from place to place, sinners were awakened, scoffers
silenced, and many were brought to seek Jesus as the only Saviour.

One aged minister besought him to prolong his visit, if only for an
additional week. When assured it was impossible, he turned to Mr.
Ireland with tears running down his cheeks. "Oh, sir," he exclaimed,
"how unfortunate for my country! During my lifetime it has produced
but one angel of a man, and now it is our lot to. lose him."

The parting from these good people was almost overwhelming. Some of
the multitude which gathered to say good-bye followed the carriage for
over two miles, unwilling to lose sight of one who had brought them so
near to God.

More than ordinary welcome awaited him at Trevecca. Joseph Benson--
headmaster of the College, and Fletcher's biographer in latter days--
wrote of it thus:--

"He was received as an angel of God. It is not possible for me to
describe the veneration in which we all held him. Like Elijah in the
schools of the prophets, he was revered; he was loved; he was almost
adored; not only by every student, but by every member of the family.

"And, indeed, he was worthy. . . . Though by the body he was tied down
to earth, _his whole conversation was in Heaven_. His _life_,
from day to day, was _hid with Christ in God._ Prayer, praise,
love, and zeal, all ardent, elevated above what one would think
attainable in this state of frailty, were the element in which he
continually lived. As to others, his one employment was to call,
entreat and urge them to ascend with him to the glorious source of
being and blessedness. He had leisure, comparatively, for nothing
else. Languages, arts, sciences, grammar, rhetoric, logic, even
divinity itself, were all laid aside when he appeared in the
schoolroom among the students. His full heart would not suffer him to
be silent. He _must_ speak, and they were readier to hearken to
this servant and minister of Jesus Christ than to attend to Sallust,
Virgil, Cicero, or any Latin or Greek historian, poet, or philosopher
they had been engaged in reading. And they seldom hearkened long
before they were all in tears, and every heart catched lire from the
flame that burned in his soul.

"These seasons generally terminated in this. Being convinced that to
be 'filled with the Holy Ghost' was a better qualification for the
ministry of the Gospel than any classical learning...after speaking
awhile in the schoolroom, he used frequently to say, 'As many of you
as are athirst for the fulness of the Spirit, follow me into my room.'
On this, many of us instantly followed him, and there continued till
noon, _for two or three hours_, praying for one another till we
could bear to kneel no longer.... I have sometimes seen him...so
filled with the love of God that he cried out, 'O my God, withhold Thy
hand, or the vessel will burst!' But he afterwards told me he was
afraid he had grieved the Spirit of God, and that he ought to have
prayed that the Lord would have enlarged the vessel, or have suffered
it to break, that the soul might have had no further bar to its
enjoyment of the Supreme Good."

Few headmasters have had the opportunity to speak of the President of
their college as the headmaster of Trevecca was led to do of Fletcher.

CHAPTER XVIII.

A PEN OF POWER.

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