FLETCHER OF MADELEY.* Tuts latest and largest memoir of the

saintly Fletcher of Madeley is a very poor book on a very interesting subject. Con-sidered as a contribution to biographical literature, it is so complete a failure, that were it not for the charm of Fletcher's -own character—a charm which, though minimised, cannot be destroyed even by Mr. Tyerman's treatment—we should be content to confine our notice to a brief expression of disappoint

ment ; but it is clearly impossible to treat in so cursory a manner the most inadequate portrait of so noteworthy a figure. Some partial explanation of Mr. Tyerman's want of success may perhaps be gathered from a rather curious sentence

in his preface, in which he says, "I have no artistic talent; and if I had, I should not employ it in writing biographies."

These words are somewhat enigmatical, but it seems clear that Mr. Tyerman is speaking contemptuously either of "artistic -talent " or of " biographies," possibly of both ; and whichever of these hypothetical explanations be correct, it is needless to point out that the writer of such a sentence was hardly the .man to undertake the task of preparing such a volume as this. Were it not for some sentences here and there which forbid the :supposition, we should be compelled to regard Mr. Tyerman as 'blind to the one thing in Fletcher which made his life worth writing at all. The world, or rather that portion of the world which is in any way interested in the subject of this memoir, is interested in Fletcher as a beautiful type of saintliness, not as .an Arminian controversialist ; and yet, of the twenty-six chapters in Mr. Tyerman's volume, no fewer than ten are devoted to a record and exposition of Fletcher's voluminous and now utterly uninteresting contributions to the fierce discussion which raged so long between the followers of Wesley and the little group of Calvinists who gathered round that devout but self-willed woman, Selina, Countess of Huntingdon. In justice to Mr.

Tyerman, we give his apology for, or rather his vindication of, this very wearisome portion of his work. He writes :—

" 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."

No plea could well be more unsatisfactory than this. From the point of view of a true biographer, the great event in a man's life is the event which is either the most important in its results, or is in itself the most characteristic and illuminating ; but the Calvinian controversy, as Mr. Tyerman calls it, produced no apparent result at all, save in the form of embittered feeling in many of the controversialists ; and the polemical atti tude, far from being characteristic of Fletcher, was quite alien to the genius of his nature, so that instead of aiding our realisation of his character, it only confuses it, just in the same way as a youthful student would be confused by an estimate of Mr. Ruskin which devoted more space to his politico-economical speculations than to his artistic criticism. In the face of the fact that Fletcher died of a virulent epidemic fever, caught in the course of his fearless pastoral ministrations, the statement that the controversy hastened his death is simply unintelligible; and, as regards the last sentence in our quotation, the only doctrine which can with any show of truth be said to have " cre ated Methodism " was the doctrine concerning the action of the Holy Spirit in the work okregenemtion, which was admitted by controversialists on both sides. Mr. Tyerman says truly that he has " refrained from discussing " the points at issue, but discussion conducted with any measure of judicial impartiality would have been more edifying, more instructive, and certainly more " artistic," than repeated statements that Fletcher's argu ments were" unanswerable " and " irrefutable," and that this or that "virulent," or "frothy," or " calumnious " antagonist deviated into vituperation, or lapsed into silence, because he felt himself utterly vanquished by the logic of Wesley's champion. Even in an avowedly polemical work, which a biography surely ought not to be, such epithets as those just quoted would be in. thoroughly bad taste ; but there is something worse than bad taste in the remark that an eminently Christian letter, in which Mr. Richard Hill expresses his desire that the controversy should cease, was prompted by "cowardice rather than courtesy," and was merely the utterance of a man who, having been "van quished more than once, now wished to retire from the arena." Mr. Tyerman has so much of the spirit of the theological gladiator that, when he finds it necessary to the preservation of chronological order to break his interminable narrative of these wretched squabbles by a chapter which has some real biographical interest, he laments the " long and awkward interruption," and returns with almost ludi crous gusto to the details of renewed conflicts in the theological arena. No mistake could well be greater than this ; for of Fletcher's polemical achievements it must be said, not merely that they throw little light upon his personality, but that they are in themselves quite unremarkable.

Isaac Taylor, in a passage quoted, but disparaged, by Mr. Tyerman, says very justly that while Fletcher was no such reasoner, no such master of Biblical criticism, as might have

made it possible for him as a theological writer to survive his day, his claim to remembrance lies in the fact that he was a true saint, whose saintliness was " as little lowered by admixture of human infirmity as we may hope to find it anywhere on earth."

It is this peculiar quality of Fletcher's nature and character which makes us regret so much the inadequacy and one sidedness of Mr. Tyerman's method of portraiture. The ideal saintly life is one not only of high contemplation, but of wide activities; it is a life both of elevated divine communion, and of far-reaching human sympathy and helpfulness. In this biography we witness the contemplative, but not the active, side of Fletcher's life; we see his face shining as he comes down from the mount, but hardly catch a glimpse of the reflection of the glory in the countenances of the human brothers among whom he moved. The nature and extent of his pastoral work at Madeley, which was undoubtedly the work of his life, will be to readers who make his acquaintance in this biography matters of inference rather than of knowledge. Of what he was to the Wesleys, and his other Methodist friends, we learn much; but of what he was to the rough miners of his obscure parish we learn next to nothing, and yet the latter is surely of greater importance than the former. We do not think that there is throughout the volume more than one quotable anecdote of his pastoral labours, but this one is sufficiently characteristic to be interesting :—

" Fifteen years ago [sic], soon after he came to Madeley, at Christmas time, in a dark night, Fletcher, on the top of Lincoln Bill Woods, was at a loss which way to take to reach his vicarage at Madeley. Providentially, he met a working-man of Coalbrookdale, Michael

'Onions by name, who was on his way to Broseley, to fetch a fiddler for a dancing-party in Michael's house. Fletcher told him he had toot his way to Madeley, and asked him to put him right. Goodtempered Michael went half a mile out of his way to render the muffled stranger the necessary guidance. Conversation ensued; Michael explained the object of his journey to Broseley ; Fletcher warned him of his sin and danger; Michael became alarmed, and .instead of proceeding to Broseley to secure the services of the fiddler, returned to his dwelling at Coalbrookdale. On his entering, the assembled dancers asked, ` Have you brought the fiddler ?'—' No,' said Michael.—' Is he not at home ?'—` I don't know.'—' Have you not been to Broseley ?'—' Why ! what's the matter ? you took ill, and are all of a tremble.' Michael then stated that he had met some one on the top of Lincoln Hill Woods, but whether man or angel he knew not; and, after relating the conversation between them, added, ` I dare not go to Broseley—I would not go for the world.' Next Sunday morning Michael and some of his dancing friends went to Madeley church, and there, in the voice of Fletcher, he recognised the mysterious traveller he had met with on Lincoln Hill. Michael was converted, and became one of the first Methodists in Coalbrookdale."

It will be seen that Mr. Tyerman's style, of which this is a fair sample, is a very bad one ; but even people whose literary palates are not specially sensitive may possibly find something in the matter of this anecdote to repel them. Few of us, now-adays, will believe that the giver of a humble dancing-party on his way for a fiddler is necessarily in a condition of " sin and 'danger ;" and those who are really repelled by the Puritan type of sanctity had better leave Fletcher alone. It is certainly not so charming, because not so human and lovable, as the best 'Catholic type, of which St. Francis of Assisi may be taken as an example; but those whose wide sympathies enable them to delight in any embodiment of high spiritual vitality, will find in such a nature as Fletcher's a fascination .similar to that which belongs to a lofty and solitary mountain peak holding communion only with the stars. There are, undoubtedly, obstacles in the way of full appreciation ; his phraseology is often artificial, sometimes almost ludicrously so, as when 'he says that God has shown him he must "begin to hang upon -frames no more ;" and we occasionally feel somewhat tired of his -self-analysis and elaborate self-disparagement ; but these obstacles are all surmounted when the true spiritual features of the man become plainly visible to us. It is doubtful whether Fletcher can be described as a genuine mystic, but that he had in him the material for the making of one is abundantly manifest. The following extract is somewhat long, but is, particularly when we consider the writer's theological surroundings, too xemarkable not to be quoted. Fletcher writes :— " If, because we have the letter of Scripture, we must be deprived of all immediate manifestations of Christ and his Spirit, we are great losers by that blessed book, and we might reasonably say, ' Lord, `bring us back to the dispensation of Moses! Thy Jewish servants could formerly converse with thee face to face, but now we can 'know nothing of thee but by their writings. They viewed thy glory in various wonderful appearances, but we are indulged only with black lines telling us of thy glory. They had their bright Shekinah, and we have only obscure descriptions of it They conversed familiarly with Moses their mediator, with Aaron their high priest, -and with Samuel their prophet ; these holy men gave them unerring direction in doubtful cases ; but, alas ! the Apostles and inspired men are all dead ; and thou, Jesus, our Mediator, Priest, and Prophet, cant not be consulted to any purpose, for thou manifestest thyself no more. As for thy sacred book, thou knoweat that sometimes the want of money to purchase it, the want of learning to consult the original, the want of wisdom to understand the translation, the want of skill or sight to read it, prevent our improving it to the best advantage, and keep some from reaping any benefit from it at all. 0 Lord ! if, because we have this blessed picture of thee, we must have no discovery of the glorious original, have compassion on us, take back thy precious book, and impart thy more precious self to us, as thou didst to thine ancient people !"

The series of letters from which this passage is taken was not published until after Fletcher's death, when his words had the authority conferred by the popular canonisation of their writer. Had they become known at an earlier date, he would hardly have escaped a suspicion of heresy, for they anticipate with singular distinctness the protest, made by Coleridge, and after him by Mr. Maurice, against the unspiritnal bibliolatry which exalts the dead letter at the expense of the living spirit, and attaches more importance to the Bible than to the great facts of which the Bible testifies. Here, again, are some sentences which have a still clearer mystical ring. They occur in a letter of condolence written to a friend :

" We are all shadows. Your mortal parent has passed away; and we must pass away after him. A lesson I learn daily is to see things and persons in their invisible root, and in their eternal principle, where they are not subject to change, decay, or death ; but where they blossom and shine in the primeval excellence allotted them by their gracious Creator. By this means I learn to walk by faith, and not by sight. Tracing his image in all the footsteps of Nature, and finding out that which is of God in ourselves, is the true wisdom, genuine godliness. I see no danger in these studies and meditations, provided we still keep the end in view,—the all of God, and the shadowy nothingness of all that is visible The Lord crucifies my wisdom and my will every way ; but I must be crucified as the thieves. All my bones must be broken ; for there is still in me that impatience of wisdom which would stir when the tempter says, Come down from the cross.' It is not for us to know the times and the seasons, the manner and mystical means of God's working; but only to hunger and thirst, and lie passive before the great Potter. I begin to be content to be a vessel of clay or of wood, so that I may be emptied of self and filled with my God, my all."

This really recalls the large utterances of the great mystics, of such men as the author of the Imitation, John Tauler, and Jacob Behmen ; and it is a curious indication of Mr. Tyerman's utter inability to discern Fletcher's real power, that he always introduces or dismisses such outpourings with something like an apology. Had we a volume of them, we could cheerfully lose the Checks to Antinomianism, upon which so much precious space is wasted. The Fletcher of this biography is a truncated Fletcher, but es pede Hercalem, and from the arc we can com

plete the circle. So long as sanctity is venerable among us, the Vicar of Madeley will be venerated as a saint indeed, and even Mr. Tyerman will receive his weed of gratitude for having done what in him lay to keep green the memory of a life sweet with the perfume of holiness.