“But though, on reading your letter, my mind has travelled so fast to Bath, yet an embargo is laid upon my body—‘I must not go yet.’ I am the more inclined to take the hint, for two reasons. I will tell you all my heart about it. The more I see her ladyship’s generosity, and admire the faithfulness of the friendship that she has for many years honoured me with, the more I ought to take care not to bring burdens upon her. It might lessen her influence with those she is connected with; and might grieve some of her friends, who possibly would look upon her condescension as an affront to them. This is the first reason.
“The second respects myself. I must follow my light. A necessity is laid upon me to clear my conscience with respect to the Antinomian world, and to point out the stumbling-block that keeps many serious people from embracing the real doctrines of free grace. I cannot do this without advancing some truths, which I know her ladyship receives as well as myself, but which, by my manner of unfolding them, will, at first sight, appear dreadful touches to the Gospel of the day. I am just sending to the press ‘A Scriptural Essay upon the Astonishing Rewardableness of the Works of Faith.’ Though it consists only of plain Scriptures, and plain arguments, without anything personal, I think it will raise more dust of prejudice against me than my preceding publications. With respect to myself, I do not mind it; but I am bound in love to mind it with respect to her ladyship. My respect for her ladyship, therefore, together with the preceding reason, determine me to defer paying my respects personally to her, till after the publication of my ‘Essay,’ and ‘Scripture Scales;’ and, if she does not then revoke the kind leave she gives me, I shall most gladly make the best of my way to assure her in person, as I do now by this indirect means, that I am, and shall for ever be her dutiful servant in what appears to me the plain Gospel of our common Lord.
“With love to yourself, and dutiful love to our noble friend, I am, etc.,
“J. Fletcher.”[[303]]
Nothing need be said respecting Fletcher’s considerate kindness in declining, for the present, an interview with the Countess of Huntingdon, lest he should become the means of bringing upon her undeserved reproach from some of her bigoted and narrow-hearted friends. It was like the man, and worthy of him.
In another letter to Mr. Ireland, Fletcher further refers to the returning friendliness of the Countess, and to his controversial and exhausting labours, of which he was becoming weary:—
“Madeley, March 27, 1774.
“My Dear Sir,—I think I wrote my last two days before I received your bounty—a large hogshead of rice and two cheeses. Accept the thanks of myself and of my poor flock. I distributed it on Shrove-Tuesday, and preached to a numerous congregation on ‘Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all other things shall be added unto you.’ We prayed for our benefactor, that God would give him a hundredfold in this life, and eternal life, where life eternal will be no burden. I saw then, what I have not often seen on such occasions, gladness without the appearance of envying or grudging.
“I get very slowly out of the mire of my controversy, and yet I hope to get over it, if God spares my life, in two or three pieces more. Since I wrote last, I have added to my ‘Equal Check’ a piece which I call ‘An Essay on Truth; or, a Rational Vindication of the Doctrine of Salvation by Faith,’ which I have taken the liberty to dedicate to Lady Huntingdon, to have an opportunity of clearing her ladyship from the charge of Antinomianism. I have taken this step in the simplicity of my heart, and as due from me, in my circumstances, to the character of her ladyship.
“I have just spirit enough to enjoy my solitude, and to bless God that I am out of the hurry of the world—even the spiritual world. I tarry gladly in my Jerusalem, till the kingdom of God comes with power. Till then, it matters not where I am: only as my chief call is here, here I gladly stay, till God fits me for the pulpit or the grave. I still spend my mornings in scribbling. Though I grudge so much time in writing, yet a man must do something; and I may as well investigate truth as do anything else, except solemn praying and visiting my flock. I shall be glad to have done with my present avocation, that I may give myself up more to those two things.