FAILING HEALTH
Unwilling as he might be for further controversy, Fletcher quickly
discovered that he had not yet done with it. Toplady, Vicar of a Devon
village, and so-called author of "Rock of Ages," bitterly attacked a
tract of Mr. Wesley's on Predestination, referring to some of his own
Calvinian heresies. Wesley had neither time nor inclination to wage a
paper war with an angry man. The work was undertaken by Fletcher, who
found himself plunged afresh into the troubled waters of religious
controversy. In his very Introduction Fletcher refuses to have
anything to say to the personal charges vindictively hurled by his
opponent:--
"These charges," he writes, "being chiefly founded upon Mr. Toplady's
logical mistakes, they will, of their own accord, fall to the ground
as soon as the mistakes on which they rest shall be exposed. May the
God of truth and love grant that if Mr. Toplady has the honour of
producing the best arguments, I, for one, may have the advantage of
yielding to them! To be conquered by truth and love is to prove
conqueror over our two greatest enemies--error and sin."
He then proceeds to deal with each of Toplady's _seventy-three_
arguments in favour of Predestination, abolishing them one by one, but
in a cool, calm, reasonable way which contrasts nobly and sweetly with
the angry prejudice of the other.
His preaching tours were interfered with by this work, but he deemed
himself to be doing as much, if not more, for God by pouring the
daylight of heavenly reason upon the errors which darkened the minds,
narrowed the perspective, and burdened the hearts of so many in that
day of Calvinian controversy.
Strangely enough, Fletcher's next essay was into the arena of
_political_ strife--or, as he terms it, "Christian politics"--
being led thereto by a pamphlet of Wesley's upon the American War of
Independence then raging. He thoroughly prepared himself, not
unnecessarily, for the storm which was to follow; for the minds of men
were divided, and political speech has ever tended to undue licence
and heat.
The Government of George III., however, considered that Fletcher had
uttered words as valuable as they were timely. The Secretary of State
for the Colonies introduced the tract to the Lord Chancellor, and he
to the King. It was not long before Fletcher was asked if he would
entertain the idea of any preferment in the Church; was there aught
which the Lord Chancellor might do for him in this way? His reply
chimed with every act of his life. "I want nothing," answered the
saintly man; "nothing but more grace."
It was at this time that Fletcher's health showed grievous signs of
failure. His arduous toil, long journeys, close writing, and
insufficient food, had told all too surely upon a delicately-organised
frame. A violent cough beset him, with slight but frequent hæmorrhage.
John Wesley advised an open-air cure, pressing him to spend some
months on horse-back, touring with him through parts of England and
Scotland. They set out together in the early spring, and travelled
1,100 or 1,200 miles in this way (not, however, into Scotland), taking
such journeys as were suited to the invalid's strength. So greatly did
he profit by some weeks in the saddle that Wesley declared if he would
only have continued it for a few months longer he would have become a
strong man once more.
In May, 1776, however, we find him at Bristol Hot Wells, debarred from
his parochial work. Wesley suggested more saddle-cure, proposing a
five-hundred mile tour to Cornwall, but Fletcher had by that time
resigned himself to the hands of a physician who forbade the exertion,
being out of sympathy with a remedy so far in advance of the times.
This medical adviser, however, mistook his case, reducing him to great
weakness. A specialist who then undertook him restored his strength
somewhat by more generous diet, although the relapse which followed
was so serious that his friends thought him to be dying, and his
congregation sang an intercessory hymn composed for the occasion.
From his multiplicity of remedies and advisers, however, Wesley
rescued him once more, put him in the saddle, and led him through
Oxfordshire, Northampton, and Norfolk, bringing him home greatly
benefited for the open air.
Fresh-air treatment, however, needs wisely conducting in the untoward
climate of England, and a self-prescribed ride upon a winter's day of
bitter frost threw Fletcher again into suffering and danger. Friends
nursed him in London, and a noted specialist was brought to him by Mr.
Ireland, whose kindness was ever unfailing; while two or three
physicians regularly attended and gave their best advice. Rest,
silence, and a diet of the richest milk seemed most to help him, but
it was a real sacrifice for him to hold his peace concerning the
intense love of Jesus which filled his soul. Often by signs he would
"stir up those about him to pray and praise."
"When he was able to converse, his favourite subject was _the
promise of the Father, the gift of the Holy Ghost_, including the
rich, peculiar blessing of union with the Father and the Son mentioned
in the prayer of our Lord, recorded in John xvii. 'We must not be
content,' said he, 'to be only cleansed from sin; we must be filled
with the Spirit.' One asking him, What was to be experienced in the
full accomplishment of _the promise_ of the Father? 'Oh,' said he,
'what shall I say? All the sweetness of the drawings of the Father,
all the love of the Son, all the rich effusions of peace and joy in
the Holy Ghost, more than ever can be expressed are comprehended
here! To attain it, the Spirit maketh intercession in the soul, like
a God wrestling with a God.'"
Fletcher's conversation had a savour all its own. He heard and saw
nothing which did not in some way suggest to him the ways and love of
God. He was much in the habit of spiritualising all allusions of an
earthly nature, and what in some men would have sounded like
_cant_ was refined by his inner spirituality to sanctified
quaintness. For instance, Mr. Ireland with great difficulty persuaded
Fletcher to sit for his portrait. While the artist was busy, his
subject used the time in exhorting all in the room to spare no pains
to get the outlines and colourings of the image of Jesus impressed
upon their hearts. During the barbarous blood-letting to which his
physicians subjected him, he would talk very tenderly of "the precious
blood-shedding of the Lamb of God." On being entertained in the house
of a friend he besought the cook to "stir up the Divine fire of love
within his heart, that it might burn up all the rubbish therein, and
raise a flame of holy affection"; while he addressed the housemaid as
follows: "I entreat you to sweep every corner of your heart, that it
may be fit to receive your Heavenly Guest!"
The Rev. Henry Venn met Fletcher at the house of Mr. Ireland, where
they stayed together for six weeks. Referring to this visit some years
later, Mr. Venn remarked to another clergyman:--
"Sir, Mr. Fletcher was a luminary--_a luminary_, did I say? He
was a _sun!_ I have known all the great men for these fifty
years, but I have known none like him. I was intimately acquainted
with him.... I never heard him say a single word which was not proper
to be spoken, and which had not a tendency to minister grace to the
hearers.... Never did I hear Mr. Fletcher speak ill of anyone. He
would pray for those who walked disorderly, but he would not publish
their faults."
Little wonder that both saint and sinner loved this Christly man!