Chapter XXIV: Fletcher’s Marriage (1)

1781.

FLETCHER spent a happy month among the “elect” ladies of Methodism in the North of England; to wit, Miss Bosanquet, Hester Ann Rogers, Sarah Crosby, and their friends; and, on his return to Madeley, he had to correspond with two others in the south, Miss Perronet and Lady Mary Fitzgerald. To the former he wrote as follows:—

“MADELEY, _September 4, 1781_.

“MY DEAR FRIEND,—You want ‘some _thoughts_ on the love of God;’ and I
want the warmest _feelings_ of it. Let us believe His creating, feel
His preserving, admire His redeeming, and triumph in His sanctifying
love. _Loving_ is the best way to grow in love. Let us then look at
the love of our heavenly Father, shining in the face of our elder
Brother, and we shall be changed into love—His image and nature—from
one _glorious_ and _glorifying_ degree of _love_ to another. Love
always delights in the object loved. ‘Delight thou in the Lord,’ then,
and ‘thou shalt have thy heart’s desire;’ for we can desire nothing
more than the _supreme good_ and _infinite bliss_; both are in God.
When, therefore, we love God truly, we _delight_ in what _He is_; we
share in His infinite happiness; and, by divine sympathy, His throne
of glory becomes _ours_; for true love rejoices in all the joy of the
object to which it cleaves.

“Add to this, that when we love God we have always our hearts’ desire;
for we love _His will_, His desires become ours, and ours are always
perfectly resigned to His. Now as God does whatsoever He pleases, both
in heaven and earth, His lovers have always their hearts’ desire,
forasmuch as they always have _His will_, which is theirs. Submitting
our private will to His is only preferring a greater good to a less,
and we are called to do it in afflictions.

“Farewell, my dear friend, and excuse these reflections, which you
could make much better than your humble servant,

“J. FLETCHER.”[522]

Footnote 522:

Letters, 1791, p. 277.

An excellent love-letter, from one who was now the declared lover of Mary Bosanquet.

Lady Mary Fitzgerald wished to visit Fletcher at Madeley, and to her he wrote the following:—

“MADELEY, _September 3, 1781_.

“MY MUCH-HONOURED LADY,—Two days ago I came here, after an absence of
above a month; and yesterday I received your letter, without date,
which has been, I am told, waiting here some time.

“What a pity I did not rejoice sooner in the good news you send
me,—that you desire to be _entirely_ devoted to God. Indeed,
complaints follow; but _heaven_ is in that holy desire. If you
cultivate it, it will produce all that conformity to a holy God, which
love can bring to a human soul. As for your complaints, they are the
natural expressions of that repentance which precedes the coming of
the Comforter, who is to abide with us for ever. I am ready to
rejoice, or to mourn with my honoured friend; and I have abundant
cause to do both with respect to myself, my ministrations, the Church,
and my people.

“And will you, indeed, find it in your heart to honour my house with
your presence, and perfume also with your prayers the plain apartment
occupied by your friend Johnson?[523] I wonder at nothing on earth,
when I consider the condescension with which Emmanuel came down from
heaven and filled a stable with His glory. Your time, my condescending
friend, will suit me best. You will be queen in my hermitage; the Lord
will rule in our hearts; and you will command, under Him, within our
walls. You smile, perhaps, at the vastness of your new empire; but if
you can be content and happy in God in my homely solitude, you will
make greater advances towards bliss than if you obtained the
Principality of Wales. But if you cannot be happy with Jesus, prayer,
praise, godly conversation, and retirement, expect a disappointment.
However, my honoured friend, if you come, come as the serious
Catholics go on a pilgrimage, as French noblemen go to the Carthusian
Convent at La Trappe, as the French king’s aunts went to the
Carmelites,—come and do _evangelical penance_. Our good friend Johnson
will tell you of an upper room where we crucify our old man, and have
had many a visit from the new. If you do not bring her with you, bring
her faith, which brought Him down, and then you shall not pine for the
company of earthly princes. The Prince of Peace Himself will keep His
court in our cottage, and your heart shall be one of His favourite
thrones.”[524]

Footnote 523:

Probably Ann Johnson, who was a member of the Methodist Society in
London sixty years; a class-leader, thirty-seven; who died at the age
of eighty in 1828, and whose remains were interred in the
burial-ground of City Road Chapel. See Stevenson’s “City Road Chapel,”
p. 458.

Footnote 524:

Letters, 1791, p. 276.

From these Christian ladies, the reader’s attention must now be directed to another.

Mary Bosanquet, oddly enough, was born in the same month, and on the same day of the month, as Fletcher; but there was this difference—she was ten years younger than he. Her birth took place in 1739, the year in which Methodism was cradled. Her father was “one of the chief merchants in London,”[525] and “lord of the manor of Leytonstone, in Essex.”[526] The place of her nativity was Forest House, a fine old mansion, three stories high, still standing in its own beautiful and spacious grounds, about a mile from Leyton, and still owned by a member of the Bosanquet family (S. R. Bosanquet, Esq.), who has recently given a plot of ground in the main street of the town on which to build the “Mary Fletcher Memorial Chapel.”

Footnote 525:

“Life of Rev. H. Venn,” p. 376.

Footnote 526:

“Sermon on the death of Mrs. Fletcher,” by John Hodson, p. 47.

By means of a Methodist servant, Mary Bosanquet found peace with God, through faith in Jesus Christ, when she was only eight years old. At the age of thirteen, she became acquainted with Mrs. Lefevre, whose admirable “Letters on Religious Subjects” used to be one of the favourite books of the early Methodists; and concerning which Wesley himself testified: “The ‘Letters’ are patterns of truly polite epistolary correspondence; expressing the noblest sentiments in the most elegant manner, in the purest, yea, and finest language.”[527] At the house of Mrs. Lefevre, Miss Bosanquet was introduced to a number of godly people, many of them Methodists. When fourteen years of age, she was confirmed in St. Paul’s Cathedral, and began to receive the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper.

Footnote 527:

Preface to the Letters.

Soon after this, her father and mother thought her “righteous over much,” and great uneasiness, on both sides, followed. The parents were members of the Church of England; but, like many other professedly Christian people, they loved gaiety and worldly pleasure. Their daughter grieved them, because she attired herself plainly, and objected to go to balls and theatres. In the midst of this unpleasantness, she became acquainted with Sarah Ryan and Sarah Crosby, and, at their humble dwelling, in Christopher Alley, Moorfields, was accustomed to meet companies of the Old Foundery Methodists. Meanwhile, the unhappiness at home increased.

At the age of twenty-one, Miss Bosanquet came into possession of “a small fortune;” and, for her own comfort and that of her family, she left the parental home, and rented two unfurnished rooms in the house of Mrs. Gold, in Hoxton Square. She “hired a sober girl;” her mother gave her two beds; and she was driven to her lodgings in her father’s coach. She reached her new home about eight o’clock at night. She had no candle. The people of the house she had never seen. She borrowed a table; and the window seat served her as a chair. Her supper consisted of bread, “rank salt butter, and water;” but she says, she “could truly say, ‘_I eat my meat with gladness and singleness of heart_.’ The bedstead was not, as yet, put up, and, therefore, she laid upon the floor; “and the windows” of the bedless bedroom “having no shutters, and it being a bright moonlight night,” she remarks, “the sweet solemnity thereof well agreed with the tranquillity of my spirit.”

Her “maid was dull and ignorant, though good;” and she herself “knew little more of the world than” did her maid, “having been used to so different a way of life.” Just at this juncture, ill-health obliged Sarah Ryan to leave Wesley’s meeting-house in Bristol, and to return to London, where she lodged with her sister. Here her illness became serious; and Miss Bosanquet served, as her nurse, “night and day.” “After a time,” writes Miss Bosanquet, “the Lord was pleased to restore her to health; and, having one heart, one mind, and one purse, we agreed that one habitation also would be most profitable;” and, accordingly, the two now resided together at Hoxton.

On March 24, 1763, Miss Bosanquet and Sarah Ryan removed from Hoxton to Leytonstone, and occupied a house belonging to the former. Miss Bosanquet told her father that she intended to have Methodist preaching in her house; her father made no objection, but remarked, “If a mob should pull your house about your ears, I cannot hinder them.” She and Sarah Ryan began to hold meetings, on Thursday nights, at which they “read a chapter, and sometimes spoke from it.” They also gathered a Methodist class, of twenty-five members; and, in due time, Wesley sent his Itinerant, John Murlin, to preach to them. Thus began Methodism at Leytonstone. “Sometimes on Sundays, when the nights were dark, a mob would collect at the gate” of Miss Bosanquet’s domestic cathedral, “and throw dirt at the people as they went out; after which, they used to come into the yard, and, putting their faces to a window, which was without shutters, would roar and howl like wild beasts.”

At the first, Miss Bosanquet’s family at Leytonstone consisted of herself, her maid, Sarah Ryan, and “Sally Lawrence,[528] a child about four years old, whom” she had “taken from the side of her mother’s coffin.” In a little while, five other orphans were admitted; and it became necessary to employ Ann Tripp[529] to serve as their governess. Miss Bosanquet writes: “Some serious women also were added to our household, and each had their duties and employments assigned them. In the whole, we received thirty-five children, and thirty-four grown persons, but not all at one time.” Thus did Miss Bosanquet turn her dwelling into a chapel, an orphanage, and a poor-house. All in the house, herself included, wore the same kind of dress, made of “a dark purple cotton;” and all dined at the same table, which was “five yards long,” and stood in the hall. Here also they all assembled “for morning and evening devotion, and on several other occasions.”

Footnote 528:

Sarah Lawrence was the niece of Sarah Ryan. She lived with her
benefactress until her death, which occurred at Madeley, on December
3, 1800. Like Mrs. Fletcher, for several years, she was a
_preacheress_, and very useful.

Footnote 529:

Ann Tripp was converted under the ministry of Wesley and Thomas
Maxfield. After the marriage of Miss Bosanquet and her removal to
Madeley, she settled at Leeds, and, at the time of her death, in 1823,
was one of the oldest leaders of the Leeds Society. (_Wesleyan
Methodist Magazine_, 1823, p. 706.)

Miss Bosanquet soon found that her family was larger than her income could maintain; but even this did not discourage her, as she was at perfect liberty to spend her capital.

Most of the children when admitted to her house “were naked, full of vermin, and some of them were afflicted with disagreeable distempers. The first thing was to clean and clothe them, and attend to their health; which usually was followed with much success.”

“The eldest of the children arose between four and five; the younger
not much later. At half-an-hour after six,” says Miss Bosanquet, “we
had family prayer; at seven, we breakfasted together on herb tea, or
milk porridge. The small children then went into the garden till
eight. At eight, the bell rang for school, which continued till
twelve. Then, after a few minutes spent in prayer, the children came
down to us, when we either walked out with them, or, if the weather
did not permit, we found them some employment in the house,
endeavouring, at the same time, to give them both instruction and
recreation. At one, we dined; about two, the bell rang again for
school; and, at five, they returned to us, and were employed as before
till supper time. Then, after family prayer, they were washed, and
were put to bed at eight. Four or five of the bigger girls were each
week kept out of the school, by turns, and employed in house-work,
cooking, etc., that they might be accustomed to every sort of
business; and there was work enough in so large a family. Several of
the children were very young, though I do not remember we had any
under two years, except one of about a month old, which was laid, very
neatly dressed, one night late at our door; but it lived only a
fortnight, being full of humours, probably derived from its parents.

“We had, I think, never more than ten grown persons in the family at
one time, who were not invalids; nor do I remember above five or six
altogether in health. The children also, for the first few years,
suffered under various disorders; for we did not refuse either old or
young, on account of their being sick or helpless.”

Miss Bosanquet, as might be expected, was soon involved in pecuniary embarrassments. Just about this period, a young lady of fortune, Miss Lewen, came to board and lodge with her, and also brought two children of whom she had taken charge. After residing about half a year in this unique retreat at Leytonstone,—chapel, orphanage, school, poor-house, and infirmary all combined in one,—Miss Lewen wished to make a new will, and to bequeath her hostess “a large sum of money.” Miss Bosanquet objected, because Miss Lewen had already “left the bulk of her estate (which was large) to charitable uses.” In 1766, Miss Lewen became suddenly very ill; and, one night, while some of the inmates of the house were watching at her side, she cried, “Give me pen and paper; I cannot die easy, unless I write something of my mind concerning Sister Bosanquet having £2,000.” Pen and paper were supplied, and the writing was written; but, of course, it was illegal and worthless. Miss Lewen died; but Miss Bosanquet, instead of receiving the £2,000, which Miss Lewen wished her to have, received not a farthing, and was considerably out of pocket on her dead friend’s account.

About the beginning of 1765, Miss Bosanquet’s father died; and nine months afterwards her mother. By his will, her father bequeathed her £4,500, to be invested by her trustees for her benefit; and, when she married with their approval and consent, this amount of money was to be transferred to herself, and to be absolutely at her own disposal.[530]

Footnote 530:

“Probate of Mr. Bosanquet’s Will.”

From a letter, written by S. Bosanquet, Esq., and dated “Forest House, October 15, 1781,” it appears that Miss Bosanquet had altogether a fortune of not less than £10,500,—a large sum, when it is remembered that money then was about three or four times the value of money now. Mr. Bosanquet’s letter was addressed to his sister, and in it he says:—

£
“You had Leytonstone estate, valued at 3,000
You had from my grandmother 2,500
You had the savings of Leyton estate till you came 500
of age
You had by my father’s will 4,500
——————
£10,500” [531]
——————

Footnote 531:

Unpublished letter.

With the exception of her father’s bequest, the whole of this money was at her own disposal, and, at the time of her marriage, was entirely spent, not on herself, but solely on behalf of others. Added to this, she was also, to a serious amount, in debt; but more of this anon.

About three years after the death of Miss Bosanquet’s father, Richard Taylor, a good and well-meaning man, “left his wife and young family” in Yorkshire, “and came to London in hope of settling with his creditors.” Sarah Crosby, who was now resident in Miss Bosanquet’s house, and John Murlin, one of the itinerant preachers stationed in the London Circuit, recommended Taylor, the improvident debtor, to Miss Bosanquet’s notice, and, for some time, he also became a member of her motley household. This unfortunate event created a world of trouble. By her father’s bequest, Miss Bosanquet’s income was increased; but her income was not equal to her expenses. Added to this, Sarah Ryan’s health entirely failed; and, partly on her account, and also for other reasons, Miss Bosanquet entertained the thought of removing her family to Yorkshire. Accordingly, on June 7, 1768, she and her two friends, Sarah Ryan and Sarah Crosby, set out, in a chaise, on this long and tiresome journey, Richard Taylor accompanying them on horseback. For seven weeks, they lived in the house of Taylor’s father-in-law, when they procured a house for themselves at Gildersome, a village in the parish of Batley, and about four miles and a half from Leeds. At the same time (on August 17, 1768), Sarah Ryan died; and this event augmented Miss Bosanquet’s anxieties, and affected her health. She writes:—

“My health began to fail. For three years, I had had much fatigue in
nursing my dear friend. I grew large, and had dropsical symptoms. My
soul, also, was in a low and cold state. My path was strewed with many
perplexities. My family consisted of thirty persons, some of whom were
rather unruly. I saw the need of taking the reins into my own hands,
and supplying the place of my friend Ryan. But this determination was
very difficult to execute; and I daily and hourly felt my
insufficiency. While she was alive, I considered her as a mother, and
desired her to allot me my employments, as she did in the case of the
young women. These were, 1. An attention to the spiritual affairs of
the family. 2. Taking care for their sustenance. 3. Instructing the
children. 4. Meeting each member of the family, one by one, at fixed
times. 5. Superintending, by turns, the more public meetings of the
Society. 6. Attending my friend in her frequent illnesses; with the
direction and management of the sick. But the care of the kitchen,
buying stores, managing the needlework, and many other things
belonging to housekeeping, I was quite unaccustomed to. While I lived
in my father’s house, I saw very little of domestic affairs, because
we lived rather high.

“Beside, the manner of life in Yorkshire was entirely different from
what I had been used to about London. Here wheat was to be bought to
be made into flour; bread to be made; cows to be managed; and
men-servants to be directed. And when I had provided as well as I
could, some persons in my family would despisingly say, my victuals
were not worth eating, and that I knew not how to order anything. The
house was large, and there was land to it; but, one day, Richard
Taylor, whom I had employed in ordering the out-door affairs, brought
me word of a farm very cheap, on which were malt-kilns, a small house,
and many out-buildings. The farm was large, and he thought if, besides
the farm-house, we were to build one big enough for our family, it
would be cheaper than to rent a house. I went to Leeds to consult the
most judicious of my friends; in particular Mr. R——, a man well
acquainted with business, and the most intimate friend I had in
Yorkshire. He replied, ‘Had you waited a dozen years, you might not
have met with such an opportunity. Richard Taylor knows well how to
manage, if you do not; and I have no doubt the farm will clear you
£150 a year, which will be good interest for your money.

“I prayed for light, bought the estate, formed the plan for the house,
and set about it. But I found building no cheaper in Yorkshire than in
the south, or but little so. It cost a good deal more than was at
first proposed. The farm took much money to stock it, and to bring it
into order; and, as I had not sufficient for all the expenses, I was
obliged to take up money on interest, which I hoped to pay off at the
rate of £50 a year. The malt-kilns seemed to answer well, and cleared
the first year £50, above all expenses.

“I found my mind much united to Brother and Sister Taylor. I strove to
remove their burdens, and went in person to their creditors. After
meeting with some opposition, I got their affairs settled, at the
expense of between two and three hundred pounds.

“My perplexities increased. The farm had sunk a very large sum to
bring it into order, and the kilns took much money to work them, a
great deal of which lay scattered up and down in debts, owing to me
from lesser maltsters. I also saw that Richard Taylor went too far;
that he was inclined to venture much; that he kept too many men; and
that he gave a great deal too much credit.

“I lessened my family all I could, by putting out some of the bigger
children to trades, or servants’ places; but much expense attended it.
Richard Taylor also had several children, while with me, so that the
family still consisted of twenty-five persons; the majority of whom
were grown persons. Losses continually occurred. I consulted Mr. ——,
and other friends about my situation; but most of them were for some
further exertion in trade. That I knew would not do. Some said, ‘Turn
away all the members of your family: you have enough to live on alone
with a servant or two;’ but I could not see how that could be done,
for several of them were old, sickly, or helpless. Mr. —— said, ‘There
is but one way for you; put the farm into the hands of Richard Taylor,
entirely separate from yourself; let him have the stock just as it is,
and work the kilns as he can raise the money. Let him pay you £60 a
year, and take his family to the end of the house. I agreed to this,
and Richard Taylor paid his rent regularly: but, as he was to have the
farm free of debt, I found a good deal to pay which he had not brought
to account; so that, before all was settled, I had again to take up
money on interest, which was no small affliction to me. Could I have
sold the place, I would have chosen it rather.

“We went on tolerably for three years. Mr. —— thought the farm
increased in heart; the stock also improved, and all was cheerful,
except in my own mind, which foreboded deep waters. This was soon
realized. In the beginning of the fourth year, Taylor was £600 in
debt. I thought, I am not obliged to pay his debt; let him break, and
bear his own burden; but I soon saw that I must either give up the
stock, which would be sold for half its value, or I must pay the
money. Besides, I was now informed, that, when he ceased to act as my
agent, I ought to have advertised it, that no one might trust him
through confidence in me.”

Thus, through wretched Richard Taylor, Miss Bosanquet found herself in a most serious entanglement. At the first, she felt she was not bound to pay Taylor’s debt; but Taylor’s wife, big with child, came to her wringing her hands, and entreating her to save her husband from being sent to prison. The result was, Miss Bosanquet paid the debt, by accepting the offer of a loan of £600 from Mr. ——, who became a partner with her in the farm and malt-kilns, and took the management of the whole. This, however, did not end her anxieties. She writes:—

“In my deep troubles, a thought occurred to my mind. ‘Perhaps Mr.
Fletcher is to be my deliverer;’ but I started from the idea, lest it
should be a stratagem of Satan. We had not seen or heard from each
other for more than fifteen years. Besides, I was now (in August,
1777), told that Mr. Fletcher was dying. As I was, one day, in prayer,
offering him up to the Lord, these words occurred to me,—‘The prayer
of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up.’ I
thought if the Lord should raise him up, and should bring him back
from Switzerland to England, and he should propose to marry me, could
I doubt its being of God? I felt an unaccountable liberty to ask,—1.
That Mr. Fletcher might be raised up. 2. That he might be brought back
to England. 3. That he might write to me on the subject before he saw
me, though we had been so many years asunder, without so much as a
message passing on any subject. 4. That he might tell me, in his
letter, that (marrying me) had been the subject of his thoughts and
prayers for years. It also occurred to me, that, should this take
place in the end of 1781, it would be a still greater confirmation, as
Providence seemed to point me to that season as a time of hope.”

Miss Bosanquet’s troubles were continued. Her new partnership was disastrous, and Mr. ——’s management a failure. He had told her she would receive £100 a-year towards paying off the debts she owed to himself and others; but the farm, instead of yielding a profit, was worked at a loss. The interest she had to pay so reduced her income, that it became impossible to keep more than half her family with what remained. She writes:—

“As to the kilns, I had neither money nor courage to work them. I
strove, I worked hard, I prayed; and, at length, I proposed to the
members of my family to disperse, and learn some little business; and
I would allow to each of them what I could. It was a most painful
thing; but I saw there was no way but first to sell the place, and
then disperse.

“Just at this time, a gentleman proposed to buy the place, stock,
lease, and everything. He was a man both of fortune and of honour, and
really wished to help me out of my difficulties; and the price he
offered would bring me through all, and leave me a good income. The
bargain was in part made; but, alas! he took a fever, and, in a few
days, died. I now saw but one way—to advertise Cross Hall, and sell it
for what I could; and, paying the purchase money away as far as it
would go, strive yearly to lessen the remaining part of the debt by my
income, reserving only £50 per year to live on, and to help my
friends. But I recollected that I might not live long enough thus to
pay the debt by my income. I then proposed to myself to keep only £20
per year; nay, I thought, how can I have a right even to twenty?
Justice is before mercy. One day, as I was standing at a window,
musing on this subject, I saw a poor man driving asses laden with
sand, by which he gained his bread. As I looked on him, I thought, I
am perfectly willing to take up the business of that man. If I can
preserve unsold one of the freehold cottages, the asses might graze on
the common, and I could follow them with something to sell. There were
but few trades which my conscience would suffer me to follow; and my
abilities were equal to still fewer; but to anything in the world
would I turn, that was not sinful, rather than remain in debt.”

“The 7th of June, 1781, was the day that began my fourteenth year in
Yorkshire. I saw difficulties, as mountains, rise all around me; but
the very next day, June the 8th, I received a letter from Mr.
Fletcher, in which he told me, that he had, for twenty-five years,
found a regard for me, which was still as sincere as ever; and, though
it might appear odd that he should write on such a subject, when but
just returned from abroad, and more so without seeing me first, he
could only say, that his mind was so strongly drawn to do it, he
believed it to be the order of Providence.”[532]

Footnote 532:

These statements are partly taken from “A Letter to the Rev. Mr. John
Wesley. By a Gentlewoman, 1764” (Miss Bosanquet); and partly from the
“Life of Mrs. Mary Fletcher. By Henry Moore, 1818.”

Thus began Fletcher’s courtship, which ended five months afterwards in his marrying Mary Bosanquet.

The foregoing is a strange story. Of set purpose, nothing has been said of Miss Bosanquet’s earnest piety, gospel labours, and spiritual successes, both in the south of England and in Yorkshire. The object has been to show to what straits a young lady of fortune was brought, by injudicious generosity, by foolish advisers, and, perhaps, it may be added, by crafty mendicants. Eighteen years before this, in a letter to Charles Wesley, Fletcher confessed that he regarded Miss Bosanquet with admiration;[533] and that Miss Bosanquet regarded Fletcher with equal admiration the foregoing extracts amply prove; as does also a letter, which she addressed to Wesley, nearly six years before her marriage, and from which the following is taken:—

“CROSS HALL, _February 7, 1776_.

“REV. SIR,—I thank you for your kind favour of January 27. It yielded
us much satisfaction; for never before could we get any account to be
depended on.

“I am exceedingly thankful Mr. Fletcher is with Mrs. Greenwood. She
will tenderly care for him: and, having a spiritual mind, will be
sensible of the honour God does her, in giving her such an
opportunity.

“How wise are all the ways of God, in keeping His faithful servant in
that retired spot” (Stoke Newington), “while those precious works are
completed, by which he will yet speak to us, though in glory: and now
to enable him to bring them out, while his exemplary life and
conversation add a lustre to the truths he has so powerfully defended.

“We could have liked to have seen him once more; but the will of the
Lord be done! Should it happen that this sickness is not unto death,
we shall rejoice in having an opportunity of assisting him in anything
which lies in our power. Should this favour be denied us, we must be
content; and beseech God to reward those who may supply our lack of
service.

“The blessed account you give of the state of his mind filled my soul
with sacred joy, as also those of my friends. While I was reading it,
it was a solemn season of faith and love, and we could not help
saying, ‘Ah, Lord! Let not this shining light be so soon
extinguished!’

“A few weeks ago, I once more read the ‘_Equal Check_’ and felt an
unction in it above all I had ever found before. The ‘_Essay on
Truth_,’ with the Appendix, is as marrow and fatness to my soul. O may
all the height and depth of every Gospel promise be written on his
heart!”[534]

Footnote 533:

Letters, 1791, p. 143.

Footnote 534:

_Arminian Magazine_, 1788, p. 48.

Did Fletcher ever see this loving, admiring letter? Perhaps he did. At all events, Wesley’s most intimate and confidential friendship with both Fletcher and Miss Bosanquet was such as to justify utterances, which, under other circumstances, would have been almost impertinent. In his sermon on the death of Fletcher, Wesley remarked, “Miss Bosanquet was the only person in England whom I judged to be worthy of Mr. Fletcher;” and again, in a letter to Hester Ann Rogers, written a month after the marriage took place, he observed, “I should not have been willing that Miss Bosanquet should have been joined to any other person than Mr. Fletcher.”[535] To some, such language may seem unusual, but, in reality, it was natural; for Wesley had long been regarded as their father in Christ, both by Fletcher and his wife; and, no doubt, both of them had consulted him with respect to the step they proposed to take.

Footnote 535:

Wesley’s Works, vol. xiii., p. 78.

After all, Fletcher’s matrimonial offer was a curious incident. He was now fifty-two years of age. For the last four years and a-half, he had been absent from his parish, and so seriously ill, that, again and again, his friends expected him to die. Some of his views, also, of ministers marrying at all were rather peculiar, though rational and sound. In his “Portrait of St. Paul,” composed in Switzerland, and revised and finished after his return to Madeley, Fletcher wrote:—

“When a man is perpetually called to travel from place to place,
prudence requires that he should not encumber himself with those
domestic cares, which must occasion many unavoidable delays in the
prosecution of his business: or, if he derives his maintenance from
the generosity of the poor, charity should constrain him to burden
them as little as possible. St. Paul could not prevail upon himself to
expose a woman and children to those innumerable dangers, which he was
constantly obliged to encounter. The first peril, from which he made
his escape, was that which compelled him to descend from the wall of
Damascus in a basket: now if a family had shared with him in the same
danger, what an addition would they have made to his affliction and
his care! Is it not evident, that, in such circumstances, every man,
who is not obliged to marry from reasons either physical or moral, is
called to imitate the example of this disinterested Apostle, from the
same motives of prudence and charity. This indefatigable preacher,
always on a mission, judged it advisable to continue in a single state
to the end of his days: but, had he been fixed in a particular church;
had he there felt how much it concerns a minister neither to tempt
others, nor to be tempted himself; and had he known how much
assistance a modest, provident, and pious woman is capable of
affording a pastor, by inspecting the women of his flock, he would
then probably have advised every resident pastor to enter into the
marriage state, provided they should fix upon regenerate persons,
capable of edifying the Church.”

Probably, while writing this, Fletcher was thinking of Wesley and his itinerant preachers, and also of the difference between them and himself, as the Vicar of Madeley. Be that as it may, from the doctrine he has laid down, he deduces the following principles:—

“1. In times of great trouble and grievous persecutions, the followers
of Christ should abstain from marriage, unless obliged thereto by
particular and powerful reasons. 2. The faithful, who mean to embrace
the nuptial state, should be careful, on no account, to connect
themselves with any persons, except such as are remarkable for their
seriousness and piety. 3. Missionaries ought not to marry, unless
there is an absolute necessity. 4. A bishop, or resident pastor, is
usually called to the marriage state. 5. A minister of the Gospel, who
is able to live in a state of celibacy _for the kingdom of heaven’s
sake_, that he may have no other care except that of preaching the
Gospel and attending upon the members of Christ’s mystical body,—such
a one is undoubtedly called to continue in a single state.”

Many will disapprove of some of Fletcher’s deductions; but it is easier to disapprove than to refute.

On the 8th of June, 1781, Miss Bosanquet received Fletcher’s offer of marriage. They had long admired each other, but, when they first became acquainted, Fletcher regarded Miss Bosanquet’s fortune as an insuperable barrier to their union; and Miss Bosanquet was too much occupied with her philanthropic schemes to think of being married. Now, Fletcher, to a great extent, was an invalid, and, as much as any man alive, needed a pious and loving nurse. Miss Bosanquet, also, was in a quagmire of financial embarrassments, and greatly needed a tender, judicious friend.

Fletcher’s letter, despatched early in the month of June, led to a correspondence which lasted till August 1, when Fletcher arrived in Yorkshire to attend Wesley’s Conference at Leeds. Miss Bosanquet writes:—

“Mr. Fletcher came to Cross Hall, and abode there a month; preaching
in different places with much power. Having opened our whole hearts to
each other, both on temporals and spirituals, we believed it to be the
order of God that we should become one, when He should make our way
plain.”[536]

Footnote 536:

“Mrs. Fletcher’s Life.”

Properly enough, Fletcher wished, before marrying Miss Bosanquet, to consult her family, and to obtain their approval. To this she consented; and, three weeks after his return to Madeley, Fletcher wrote the following, hitherto unpublished, letters. Some will condemn the printing of this private correspondence; but as it contains nothing but what is honourable to all the parties concerned, and as it exhibits the Vicar of Madeley in a new position, most readers will be thankful for it.

The first letter was addressed to Miss Bosanquet, and shows the ardour of her wooer:—

“MADELEY, _September 22, 1781_.

“MY DEAREST FRIEND,—I have received thy dear letter, with the one
enclosed from thy brother. I shall send it back to thee by Mr.
Brisco,[537] who will call here on his way to Birstal.

“O Polly! generous, faithful Polly! dost thou indeed permit me to
write to thy friends, and to ask the invaluable gift of thy hand? That
hand, that is _half_ mine, shall be wholly mine. I have, to-day,
written two letters,—one to thy uncle, the other to thy elder brother.
Correct them, and, when thou hast, forward them with much prayer and
love. Back them with some of thy sweet arguments. Thou knowest how to
come at thy friends. I don’t: I have only followed my instinct for
thee in this new business.

“Polly! I read thy letter, and wondered at the expression in it,—‘_If
you think me worth writing for_.’ Ah! my holy, my loving, my lovely,
my precious friend, I think thee worth writing for _with my vital
blood_: I am only sorry that I had not thee beside me to write with
_thy wisdom_. However, I write by the _first_ post: direct the letters
properly; and excuse my _sending them by thee_, as I don’t remember
the names and streets.

“‘Difficulties!’ If thou hast any, I shall gladly share them with
thee, and think myself well repaid with the pleasure of praying and
praising _with thee_, and _for thee_. Therefore, do not talk of
_struggling through alone_. I charge thee, by thy faithfulness, let me
be alone as little time as thou canst.

“‘Three thousand pounds’ with thee! My dear, if thou art mine, and
canst live in our cottage here, praising and blessing God, I shall
rejoice more than Mephibosheth, when, through joy, he said, ‘Let Ziba
take all, forasmuch as my lord the king is come back in peace’ (2 Sam.
xix. 30). Let not thy wisdom, Polly, make thee suspect and surmise
evil. Let thy charity make thee hope all things for thy friends.

“I thank thee for that believing sentence,—‘But, all shall be right.’
The worst thy friends can do is to keep thy money, which I look upon
as dung and dross in comparison of thee. Ah Polly! with the _treasure_
of _thy_ friendship, and the _unsearchable_ riches of Christ, how rich
thinkest thou I am? Count—cast up—but thou wilt never make out the
amazing sum.

“So thou wilt keep ‘two years’ from me to bring me some money! Oh,
Polly! that is a saying more worthy of Change Alley than of the
paradise of love. Let me comfort thee a little. If thou lovest me half
as much as I do thee, thou wilt think thyself rich. _Thou_ art worth
to me a _million_; and cannot _I_ be worth thy £5,000?

“I embrace thee in spirit, and more than mix my soul with thine.
Farewell!

“J. FLETCHER.”

Footnote 537:

Thomas Brisco, a fine old Methodist Itinerant Preacher, at that time
the Superintendent of the Birstal Circuit.

The two letters referred to in this sweethearting epistle, and addressed to Miss Bosanquet’s uncle, Claudius Bosanquet, Esq., and to her brother, S. Bosanquet, Esq., were the following:—

“To Claudius Bosanquet, Esq.

“MADELEY, _September 22, 1781_.

“SIR,—Permit a stranger to claim some moments of the time you
consecrate to your neighbours’ happiness and the welfare of your own
family.

“I was born in the Pays de Vaud at Nyon, a town about fifteen miles
north of Geneva, on the borders of the lake. My father, in his youth,
was an officer in the French service, which he left to marry. He was
afterwards a colonel in the militia of his country, and a judge or
assessor to the lord-lieutenant of the town where he lived. I am the
youngest of his eight children. Having some desires to be a clergyman,
I was, for seven years, sent to Geneva to pursue my studies. But after
I had stayed there seven years, a fear of being unfit for the
Christian ministry, and the enticing offers of my father’s brother,
who was a lieutenant-colonel in the Dutch service, made me for a time
prefer the sword to the gown. I left the academy” [at Geneva] “and
went to Flanders to join my eldest brother, who was an officer in the
Dutch service; but, before I could enter the army, the peace was made,
and my uncle, on whom my hopes depended, left the service.

“Seeing my way to military preferment blocked up by these two events,
I came to England, to get more perfect in the English tongue, which I
had begun to learn at Geneva. Some months after I was come over, Mr.
Des Champs, a French minister, to whom I had been recommended,
procured me the place of tutor to the son of Mr. Hill, member of
Parliament for Shrewsbury. In his family I lived some years, and
applied myself to the study of divinity; and, at his request, and by
his interest, I got into Orders; a calling which now suited my more
serious turn of mind.

“It was soon after my ordination that I saw Miss Mary Bosanquet, your
pious niece. I had resolved not to marry, but the sweetness of her
temper, and her devotedness to God, made me think that if ever I broke
through my resolution, it would be to cast my lot with one like her.

“Not long after, at Mr. Hill’s request, his nephew, Mr. Kinaston,
member for Montgomery, presented me to the living of Madeley, a little
market-town in the county of Salop, worth about £100 per annum; and
here I have chiefly lived, sequestered from the world, as your amiable
niece has done at Leyton and at Cross Hall.

“After having corresponded some years with her on various subjects,
last spring, on my return from a journey to the continent, I ventured
to mention to her my first thoughts about a closer union with
her,—thoughts which I had kept to myself for nearly twenty-five years.
After maturely discussing the point, your pious niece has given me
room to hope she will give me her hand, if you, Sir, whom she honours
as a father, give your consent to our union. I earnestly ask it, Sir;
and beg you will share the pleasure of uniting two persons who, from a
remarkable agreement of taste, sentiments, and pursuits, as well as
from a particular sympathy, seem formed for each other by the God of
nature and of grace.

“I wish, Sir, I had a fortune equal to Miss Bosanquet’s deserts; but I
hope I have one suitable to her piety, and to the moderate wishes of
that godliness which, together with contentment, is a great gain. I
have only about £1,500 worth of property in my native country, and
about £400 or £500 more in my parish, besides the income of my living,
and a house much better than those with which most country clergymen
are obliged to put up.

“Whatever be your pious niece’s fortune, I assure you, Sir, I seek her
person, not her property; and to convince you of it, I request that
before she gives me her hand, her whole fortune may be secured to her
by a proper settlement.

“With respect to my character, and the truth of what I have here
advanced, I beg leave to refer you, Sir, to four creditable persons.
With regard to my conduct, and what I affirm of myself as Vicar of
Madeley, you may get proper informations from Thomas Hill, Esq., now
in Salop, the old gentleman in whose house or neighbourhood I have
lived very near thirty years; and from his son, Noel Hill, Esq.,
member for Shropshire, the gentleman to whom I was tutor. With respect
to what I have mentioned of myself as a native of Switzerland, you
may, Sir, procure proper informations from two clergymen now in that
country, Mr. De Bons and Mr. Tavan, whom I saw last Christmas at
Lausanne, and whom you have probably seen in London, when they served
French churches there.

“I would, Sir, have waited upon you in person, in London, if some
journeys which my curate must take did not oblige me to stay here to
serve my own church.

“I shall have the honour to write upon the same subject to Miss
Bosanquet’s brothers, and shall take the liberty of referring them to
this letter, for some account of him who aspires to the hand of their
pious sister; and who, with respect to temporal happiness, desires
nothing so ardently as to have your leave to add the name of nephew to
that of, Sir, your most humble and obedient servant,

“JOHN DELAFLECHERE.

“P.S.—Soon after I came to England, my English friends, complaining of
the length of my Swiss name, began to contract it by dropping the
French syllables of it. So they called me Fletcher; and by that name I
have been known among the English ever since. If you favour me with an
answer, Sir, it will find me if it is directed thus:—

“Mr. Fletcher,
“Vicar of Madeley,
“Near Shiffnal,
“Shropshire.”

The letter addressed to Miss Bosanquet’s brother was as follows:—

“MADELEY, NEAR SHIFFNAL, SHROPSHIRE,
“_September 22, 1781_.

“SIR,—Aspiring to the happiness of being united to your pious sister,
Miss Bosanquet, and to the honour of being, by her means, connected
with your family, I should be wanting both to my duty and my
inclination if I proceeded in my addresses to her without informing
you of my design, and asking your approbation of it.

“By this post I send to Claudius Bosanquet, Esq., some account of
myself, which I hope he will communicate to you, Sir, and to your
brother. I shall only add two things.

“Among the reasons which hindered me from making my addresses to your
amiable sister, when first I felt that sympathy which binds my soul to
hers, the superiority of her fortune was not the least. Since that
time, debts, which unforeseen circumstances led her to contract, have
considerably lessened that difficulty; and the prudent fear of
contracting new ones seems to make it expedient for her to get into a
state where she may, without difficulty and with propriety, bring her
expensive housekeeping within narrower bounds. That end will at once
be attained if she favours me with her hand.

“Further, in extricating herself from some difficulties, she will
crown the wishes of the oldest and warmest of her friends; and
contribute not to my happiness only, but to that of my numerous flock.
You are too well acquainted with your pious sister’s turn of mind not
to know that Providence designed her for a clergyman’s partner and
fellow-helper. Her instructions, her employment, her very pleasures
from her childhood, have led her to assist her neighbours in temporal
as well as in spiritual matters. She has even been blamed for the
warmth of her zeal. But what seemed rather awkward and improper in a
single woman, will become highly expedient and highly commendable in a
clergyman’s wife. The _secondary_ inspection and care of the children
and women of a flock of two thousand souls will then naturally devolve
to her share, and in some sense become her duty.

“I hope that if you, Sir, your worthy uncle, your brother, and Mrs.
Gassen[538] weigh these particulars you will consent to our union, and
by that means contribute more than I can express to the happiness,
Sir, of your most humble and most obedient servant,

“J. FLETCHER.”

Footnote 538:

Miss Bosanquet’s married sister. The two sisters began their
_religious_ life together at a very early age.

In due time, in a letter, dated “Forest House, October 2, 1781,” S. Bosanquet, Esq., informed Fletcher that he approved of the proposed marriage; but added:—

“My sister’s fortune is so encumbered, that nothing but the sale of
all her landed estate can free her from her difficulties; and, if that
portion of her fortune, which came to her by my father’s will, had not
been tied up, she would have been ruined.”[539]

Footnote 539:

Unpublished letter.

A fortnight later, Mr. S. Bosanquet wrote to his sister, and gave her an account of her fortune, amounting in the aggregate to £10,500. He then told her that she had already squandered the whole of this amount, with the exception of £4,500 settled on trustees, for her benefit, by her father’s will. He continued:—

“One reason why my father secured this money, by leaving it on trust,
was, lest, by your placing too great confidence in those with whom you
were connected, and by your endeavouring to do more good than your
circumstances would afford, you might be left destitute.”

He then added:—

“I cannot conclude without remarking that, although you are encumbered
with debts, you must be, at least, an equal match for Mr. Fletcher.
Your two estates[540] have always been considered as fully equal to
your debts; but, suppose they should not turn out to be so, the
difference cannot be very great; and, as the remainder of your income
exceeds £200 a year, it at least equals Mr. Fletcher’s income, such as
it has been stated to me; besides the consideration that the greater
part of his income dies with him, and the capital of yours survives in
case there should be children, for their benefit.”[541]

Footnote 540:

The Leytonstone estate, valued at £3,000; and that bequeathed by her
grandmother, valued at £2,500.

Footnote 541:

Unpublished letter.

At the same time, Miss Bosanquet’s brother William, in a letter dated “Lime Street, London, October 16, 1781,” replied to her wail that she could “carry Mr. Fletcher nothing but debts,” and stated that he was in favour of her marrying Fletcher.[542]

Footnote 542:

_Ibid._

Before taking leave of the Bosanquet family, it may be added, that Mr. S. Bosanquet sent his sister, as his wedding present, a pair of silver candlesticks;[543] and that her brother William, in a letter dated “November 27, 1781,” and addressed “Mrs. Fletcher, Cross Hall, Morley Common, near Leeds,” wrote:—

“I cannot but hope the greatest happiness will attend your union with
a gentleman to whom, by general report, the highest praise is due.
Permit me to wish you joy on this occasion, and to add my best
respects to Mr. Fletcher, assuring him that I shall be happy to
cultivate his acquaintance, and to show him every attention in my
power.”[544]

Footnote 543:

_Ibid._

Footnote 544:

_Ibid._

With this loving letter, Mr. William Bosanquet forwarded to his sister a nuptial present of £100.

Another fact must be mentioned. William Bosanquet loved his sister, and, not only now, but in aftertime, he showed the genuineness of his affection by his deeds. The uncle, Claudius Bosanquet, in his last will and testament, bequeathed to Miss Bosanquet’s two brothers £18,000 each; but Miss Bosanquet and her sister Gassen were unnamed. At the uncle’s death, their brother William, ever generous and open-handed, gave them £500 each; when Fletcher died, he presented to the widow £40 a year to relieve the wants of the poor of Madeley; and when he himself died, in 1813, he bequeathed her the sum of £2,000.