_SETTLES IN ENGLAND.--HIS CONNEXION WITH
WESLEY AND THE METHODISTS._
(1750-1755.)
Being now without occupation, or any definite prospect of it, Fletcher
determined to visit England. It does not appear that he had any motive
for doing so beyond a desire to travel and to acquire the English
language. Accordingly, some time in 1749 or 1750--it is impossible to
fix the date more precisely--he came to London, well supplied
apparently with money, but with the slenderest stock of English. At the
custom house he and his companions seem to have been somewhat roughly
treated, and their letters of introduction were taken from them on the
ground that all letters must be sent by the post. His first adventure
in London bade fair to be of the sort that London has often provided
for newly arrived and trustful youth. He handed over his purse,
containing some L90, to a stranger, a Jew, who offered to get his money
changed for him. To the honour of this unknown Jew, let it be recorded
that Fletcher's simplicity was not abused. He returned in due time, and
brought the full amount in English coin.
The first eighteen months of his residence in England Fletcher spent in
the house of a Mr. Burchell, who kept a school near Hatfield. Here he
acquired a good knowledge of English, beside continuing his general
studies. On leaving Mr. Burchell, in the year 1752, he received the
appointment of tutor to the two sons of Mr. Thomas Hill, of Tern Hall,
in Shropshire. This position he retained for nearly seven years,
dividing his time between Shropshire and London, according as Mr.
Hill's family accompanied him to town for the sitting of Parliament, or
remained in the country.
Through all this time there is no sign of any wish on Fletcher's part
to return to Switzerland; and it is at first sight a little perplexing
that his visit to England should have developed into something very
like a permanent residence, when as yet he had no definite calling, and
the powerful influences of a great spiritual change had not come into
existence. But there is a reasonable explanation to be found in the
state of things in his native country, where a gentleman's younger son,
disinclined for the ministry and disappointed of a commission in the
army, had no great choice of a career. On this matter we have the
testimony of an exceptionally keen and competent observer. The early
years of Fletcher's residence in England correspond very closely with
those of Gibbon's first period of residence in Switzerland. From 1753
to 1758, years spent by Fletcher in the family of Mr. Hill, the
youthful Gibbon was living under the roof of M. Pavilliard, a Calvinist
minister at Lausanne. It was about the close of this period that he
wrote, for the benefit of a Swiss friend, a short paper upon political
and social life in Switzerland, an essay that is doubly worth reading,
for its own sake, and as exhibiting the powers and the promise in early
manhood of the future historian. An extract or two will show some
aspects of the society that Fletcher had so lately left, and to which
he never really returned, and will suggest the explanation of that
readiness to "forget his own people and his father's house," which has
perplexed some of his critics and biographers:
"Even to the present day, a secret inquisition still reigns
at Lausanne, where the names of Arminian and Socinian are
often mentioned in the letters written by very honest people
to their patrons of Berne; and offices are often given or
withheld according to the reports made of the religious
tenets of the candidates.... In aristocratical republics the
citizens of one town are not contented with being sovereigns
collectively, unless they individually appropriate all
offices of honour or emolument. In the canton of Berne
talents and information are not of the smallest use to any
one who is not born in the capital; and in another sense they
are useless to those born there, because they _must_ make
their way without them. Their subjects in the Pays de Vaud
are condemned, by the circumstances of their birth, to a
condition of shameful obscurity. They naturally become
therefore a prey to despair, and neglecting to cultivate
talents which they can never enjoy an opportunity to display,
those who had capacities for becoming great men are
contented with making themselves agreeable companions.
Should I propose that the subjects obtained a right to hold
the lucrative employments of _baillis_, or governors of
districts, the aristocratical families of Berne would think
me guilty of a crime little less than sacrilege. 'The
emoluments of these offices form the patrimony of the State;
and we are the State.' It is true that you in the Pays de
Vaud may be deputies to the _baillis_; but the advantages
belonging to that subordinate magistracy are obtained on
certain conditions, which, unless the holder of the office
lives a certain number of years, renders his bargain a very
bad one for his family.
"What encouragement is then left for the gentlemen of the
Pays de Vaud? That of foreign service. But to them even this
road to preferment is extremely difficult, and to attain the
higher ranks is impossible.... In his own district every
_bailli_ is at the head of religion, of the law, the army,
and the finances. As judge, he decides without appeal all
causes to the amount of a hundred francs--a sum of little
importance to a gentleman, but which often makes the whole
fortune of a peasant; and he decides alone, for the voices of
his assessors have not any weight in the scale. He confers,
or rather he sells, all the employments in his district."
It is unnecessary further to multiply extracts from this letter. The
relevancy to Fletcher's personal history of those just cited will be
obvious. He belonged, not to the aristocracy of Berne, but to the
subordinate gentry of the Pays de Vaud. The office held by his father
was not that of _bailli_, with its great emoluments and privileges, but
the very inferior office of _assesseur_. Fletcher was one of those to
whom little remained but foreign service, and we have seen how eagerly
he sought it, and by what circumstances his hopes were frustrated. And
so it was, we take it, that, having come to England, he scarcely knew
why, the quiet life of a scholar and tutor satisfied him till such time
as, in the possession of a new religious life and an absorbing
vocation, he found "foreign service" in the highest and holiest
warfare. It was while living in Mr. Hill's family that Fletcher came
under the influences which determined his whole future course. He now
first became acquainted with the Methodists.
Some fifteen years had elapsed since Wesley formed the first Methodist
society, and Whitefield, shut out from the churches, had begun to
preach the gospel to the wondering crowds on Kingswood Hill and
Kennington Common. Wesley's own ungarnished account fixes the exact
date of one of the most significant events in modern Church history. It
is as follows: "In the latter end of the year 1739 eight or ten persons
came to me in London, who appeared to be deeply convinced of sin, and
earnestly groaning for redemption. They desired I would spend some time
with them in prayer, and advise them how to flee from the wrath to
come. That we might have more time for this great work, I appointed a
day when they might all come together, which from thenceforward they
did every Thursday in the evening. To these, and as many more as
desired to join with them (for the number increased daily), I gave
those advices from time to time which I judged most needful for them;
and we always concluded our meeting with prayer suited to their several
necessities. This was the rise of the United Society, first in London,
and then in other places."
It was not however to the members of this society that the name of
Methodist was first applied, still less was it a designation adopted by
the society itself. It originated, some years earlier, in Oxford, as a
nickname for the Wesleys and a few other university men, who used to
meet together to read the Scriptures, and endeavoured generally to
order their lives with a religious precision rare enough in the Oxford
of those days. To quote Wesley's words again: "The exact regularity of
their lives, as well as studies, occasioned a young gentleman of Christ
Church to say, 'Here is a new set of Methodists sprung up,' alluding to
some ancient physicians who were so called. The name was new and
quaint, so it took immediately, and the Methodists were known all over
the university."
But this first, or Oxford, Methodism was now a thing of the past. The
Methodism that Fletcher found in England was really another and very
different thing, though called by the same name. It was separated from
the former, not only by a score or so of years, but by spiritual
changes and developments of the most important character. The first
Methodists were, above all things, students and Churchmen. They revived
the observance of long neglected canons and rubrics; they moulded
their lives on ascetic models, fasting on Wednesdays and Fridays, and
eating no flesh during Lent except on Saturdays and Sundays. They
thought and spoke much of Christian antiquity, and, like the Oxford
leaders of a century later, sought in that venerable past a rule and an
authority co-ordinate with Scripture. They read Thomas a Kempis and
Bishop Taylor and the great High Church mystic of their own day,
William Law. This Oxford Methodism, with its almost monastic rigours,
its living by rule, its canonical hours of prayer, is a fair and noble
phase of the many-sided life of the Church of England, and, with all
its defects and limitations, claims our deep respect. But it was not
the instrument by which the Church and nation were to be revived; it
had no message for the world, no secret of power with which to move and
quicken the masses. To do this it must become other than it was. It
must die, in order to bring forth much fruit. And this death and rising
again were accomplished in the spiritual change wrought in John Wesley,
the leader of the earlier and of the later Methodism. What was that
change?
In the year 1738, on his return from Georgia, Wesley writes: "It is now
two years and almost four months since I left my native country, in
order to teach the Georgian Indians the nature of Christianity. But
what have I learned myself meantime? Why, what I the least of all
suspected: that I, who went to America to convert others, was never
myself converted to God."
Now it may be urged, with some show of reason, as indeed his own
language in later life implies, that Wesley was not, in the full sense
of the term, an unconverted man during the whole of his Oxford life and
of his residence in Georgia. But nothing is more certain than the
reality and importance of the change through which he now passed. His
apprehension of salvation by faith in Christ had been hitherto obscure
and imperfect. He found no rest for his soul. He longed to be at peace
with God. "The faith which I want is a sure trust and confidence in God
that, through the merits of Christ, my sins are forgiven, and I
reconciled to the favour of God, ... that faith which enables every one
that hath it to cry out, 'I live not, but Christ liveth in me; and the
life which I now live, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me,
and gave Himself for me.'" It is not necessary to repeat here the
oft-told story of Wesley's acquaintance with the Moravians, and more
particularly with Peter Boehler, by whose teaching and testimony he was
convinced that the one thing wanting to him was a living faith in
Christ, together with that assurance of forgiveness and power over sin
that are its fruits. How much had to be surrendered before a man of
Wesley's training and attainments could submit himself to the
conception of saving faith that was now presented to him, may be learnt
from his own statements. It is enough to say that he found that way of
faith in Christ which is the open secret of the gospel, at once "hidden
from the wise and prudent, and revealed unto babes." He received the
reconciliation and rejoiced in God. "I felt I did trust in Christ,
Christ alone, for salvation; and an assurance was given me that He had
taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and
death." This was Wesley's "conversion." Whether rightly so called or
not, there is no doubt as to the change itself, and its results.
Henceforth he was a new man, ready for a new work. Instead of directing
the religious life of a handful of devout university men, he traversed
the land in every direction, preaching to the multitudes and organizing
societies for Christian fellowship. Religion was no longer a painful
quest, a high endeavour, a discipline, but a life bright with the
Divine favour and filled with unspeakable blessings, offered to all men
through faith in Christ. Peace with God, the witness and fruit of the
Spirit, the blessings of sonship and sanctification,--these were not
the rewards of fidelity and endurance, the privilege of the few; they
were included in the common salvation. Every sinner might seek them,
every believer would find them. There is no mistaking the difference
between this gospel, soon to be preached in every town and village of
England, and the teaching that nourished the austere piety of the
Oxford Methodists. As an able writer has put it, "The birthday of a
Christian was shifted from his baptism to his conversion, and in that
change the partition line of two great systems is crossed." Some will
reckon this change a grave error, and all that came of it to be but a
falling away from a high beginning. They will find in the ascetic,
churchly pietists of the earlier time their true Wesley and their ideal
Methodism; but time and history have borne a testimony from which there
is, practically, no appeal. The Methodism that revived the Church and
awakened the nation was not that of the "Holy Club" at Oxford. It
differed from it as Wesley after "conversion" differed from his former
self. Its spirit, its methods, its watchwords were altered. Something
may have been lost when Methodism moved from its academic birthplace
into the work-day world, but more was gained. It had found what it had
long sought. It knew now what salvation meant. "I waited patiently for
the Lord; and He inclined unto me, and heard my cry. He ... set my feet
upon a rock, and established my goings. And He hath put a new song in
my mouth, even praise unto our God: many shall see it, and fear, and
shall trust in the Lord."
By the time that Fletcher became acquainted with Methodism it had
passed through some important stages of its history. It had reached its
highest point in the favour of a small section of the aristocracy, and
had encountered its strongest opposition among the people. Never in
subsequent years were so many persons of rank associated with Methodism
as in its first two or three decades; and never in later times have its
followers endured afflictions like those which the first Methodists
suffered in Staffordshire, in Yorkshire, and in Cornwall. It had now
secured something like peace for its persecuted people; its travelling
preachers crossed and recrossed the entire country; its societies
contained many thousands of members, won for the most part from
ignorance and irreligion; and with restless yet disciplined activity it
was appreciably influencing the national life. Religion, which had
seemed to "stand on tiptoe in our land," turned again to its ancient
seats, and to the home it had well-nigh forsaken. There was hope for
Christianity among us yet.
It was during one of Fletcher's journeys to London with Mr. Hill's
family that he first met with the people called Methodists. The story
is told by Wesley: "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 asked 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, madam,' 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, if they be above ground.' He did find them out
not long after, and was admitted into the society."
Amongst the Methodists Fletcher learnt what Wesley had learnt from the
Moravians, that there was something in religion to which he was yet a
stranger. Like so many others of fine moral nature and virtuous habits,
he was much perplexed as to the nature of saving faith. "Is it
possible," he writes, "that I, who have always been accounted so
religious, who have made divinity my study, and received the Premiums
of Piety (so called) from the university for my writings on Divine
subjects,--is it possible that I should yet be so ignorant as not to
know what faith is?" He came to the conclusion that this was so. His
past life, so free from outward sin, appeared to him to be sinful
beyond expression. It had no foundation in Christ. He had lived to
himself. His righteousness was self-righteousness, it was as filthy
rags. He now heard sermons, but was only the more convinced that he was
an unbeliever; he wrote out a confession of his sins, misery, and
helplessness, but had no heart to finish it. He feared he did not even
yet mourn enough for his 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 hardness of
heart." Deliverance however was at hand. The salvation that he longed
for drew near. He trusted in Christ, and found rest to his soul. His
bonds were broken. He was filled with joy and peace through believing.
Henceforth, "the life that he lived in the flesh, he lived by the faith
of the Son of God."
It is surely worthy of remark that the chief leaders of the Evangelical
Revival were converted in mature life, not after a wild and reckless,
but after a more than commonly religious youth. Among the associates
soon to be gathered around them a very different type of spiritual
history may be discerned. Many of these had been notoriously sinful,
and their conversion had all the dramatic completeness which belongs to
a sudden transformation of conduct and character. But of the Wesleys
and Whitefield at Oxford, and subsequently of Fletcher, it might be
said that they were "touching the righteousness which is in the law,
blameless." They fasted and prayed, and frequented the sacrament; they
read religious books; they visited the sick and taught the ignorant;
they eschewed all self-indulgence, were scrupulous in respect of duty,
and consistently devout in spirit and manner. And yet the change
wrought in them when they obtained a saving faith in Christ could not
have been really greater if there had been a previous life of sin and
folly to escape from. When a man passes from a righteousness of his own
"which is of the law," to "that which is through faith in Christ," it
is as truly a birth from above as when he is turned from sin to
righteousness. The inner power and significance of conversion are the
same in both cases. But this is widely misunderstood. That the wicked
should be, if possible, converted, is generally held to be desirable.
Society, even when most cynical and worldly, does, in a manner, hold
that it behoves evil doers, especially among the lower orders, to
repent of their sins and mend their ways; but that good people should
call themselves sinners, that scholars and gentlemen of excellent
character--whose only fault indeed was that of being righteous
overmuch--should be anxious about their souls, and make other
respectable people as uneasy as themselves, caused much irritation and
perplexity.
It was, however, not the least of God's mercies to the Church and
nation that the Revival began as it did with the conversion of good
men, that its first witnesses and workers were not reclaimed
profligates, but representatives of all that was best in the existing
social order. If the gospel was to awaken the conviction of sin in such
men as these, if it was to disclose to them deep spiritual needs, and
set them asking what they must do to be saved, then society had
misunderstood the whole matter,--which indeed was pretty nearly the
case. Society's discernment of evil when it takes the form of crime is
sufficiently acute; concerning vice also it has convictions more or
less emphatic: but of _sin, as sin_, its notions are feeble and
confused. And that confusion and inadequacy of view are shared by the
Church when men's need of Christ and His salvation is measured by the
more or less of their outward good behaviour; as though conversion were
necessary for wicked and worthless members of the community, while
those of a better sort can see the kingdom of God without being born
from above. The history and experience of its leaders, humanly
speaking, preserved the Revival from this error, and from the first
guarded the doctrine of the new birth from one of its most common and
practical perversions. The notion that while there are some people too
bad to be converted there are others too good to require it, was doubly
disproved. The early Methodist preachers moved joyously and confidently
through the land, proclaiming a salvation which the worst might obtain,
and which the best must not refuse or neglect.
From the time of his conversion to the close of his life Fletcher was a
Methodist. The exact date when he joined the society cannot be
determined, but in the year 1756 he was a member of a class in London,
of which a Mr. Richard Edwards was the leader. His "class ticket,"
bearing the name "John Fletcher," and the date "Feb., 1757," lies
before us as we write.