Chapter VI: Preface (5)

“I am sorry the building has come to so much more than I intended;
but as the mischief is done, it is a matter to exercise patience,
resignation, and self-denial; and it will be a caution in future. I
am going to sell part of my little estate here, to discharge the
debt. I had laid by fifty pounds to print a small work, which I
wanted to distribute here; but as I must be just before I presume to
offer that mite to ‘the God of truth,’ I lay by the design, and shall
send that sum to Mr. York. Money is so scarce here, at this time,
that I shall sell at a very great loss; but necessity and justice are
two great laws, which must be obeyed. As I design, on my return to
England, to pinch until I have got rid of this debt, I may go and
live in one of the cottages belonging to the Vicar, if we could let
the vicarage for a few pounds; and in that case, I dare say, Mr.
Greaves would be so good as to take the other little house.”

Mr. Fletcher returned to England in the spring of 1781, better, but without having regained his health; and in the course of the summer he had an interview with Miss Bosanquet, at Cross Hall, Yorkshire, which led to marriage in November, and both arrived at Madeley in January, 1782. With good nursing his health returned, so that he was able to write to Mr. Wesley in December of that year, to say—“I have strength enough to do my parish work without the help of a curate.” This was one of those years of bad harvests and scarcity of provisions, which usually led to disturbances, and we find him in the same letter saying:—“The colliers began to rise in this neighbourhood: happily, the cockatrice’s egg was crushed before the serpent came out. However, I got many a hearty curse from the colliers for the plain words I spoke on the occasion.”

Acting upon the proposals of Mrs. Darby, he established a Sunday-school in Madeley Wood. These proposals were:—

“I.—It is proposed that Sunday-schools be set up in this parish for
such children as are employed all the week, and for those whose
education has been hitherto totally neglected.

“II.—That the children admitted into these be taught reading, writing,
and the principles of religion.

“III.—That there be a school for boys, and another for girls, in
Madeley, Madeley-Wood, and Coalbrook-Dale: six in all.

“IV.—That a subscription be opened, to pay each Teacher one shilling
per Sunday, and to buy tables, forms, books, pens, and ink.

“V.—That two Treasurers be appointed to ask and receive the
contributions of the subscribers.

“VI.—That whosoever subscribes one guinea a year shall be a Governor.

“VII.—That three or four Inspectors be appointed, who are to visit the
schools once a week, to see that the children attend regularly, and the
masters do their duty.

“VIII.—That a book be provided for setting down all receipts and
expenses; and another for the names of the Teachers and the scholars.

“IX.—That the schools be solemnly visited once or twice a year; and a
premium given to the children that have made the greatest improvement.”

Three hundred children were soon gathered together whom Mr. Fletcher took every opportunity of instructing, by regular meetings, which he attended with the utmost diligence. In order to encourage the children he gave them little hymn-books, pointing them to some friend or neighbour, who would teach them the hymns and instruct them to sing. They were greatly taken with this new employment, insomuch that it is said many would scarce allow themselves time to eat or sleep, for the desire they had of learning their lessons. At every meeting, after inquiring who had made the greatest proficiency, he distinguished them by some little reward. He also urged upon his more wealthy parishioners the importance of establishing such schools at Coalbrookdale and Madeley.

MR. FLETCHER AS HEAD OF LADY HUNTINGDON’S COLLEGE.

Mr. Fletcher was for some time at the head of a college founded by the Countess of Huntingdon for young men preparing for the ministry, at Trevecca, in South Wales. His attachment to his flock at Madeley, however, prevented him paying more than occasional visits and giving advice with regard to the appointment of masters, and the admission or exclusion of students. Mr. Benson, one of the tutors, tells us that he here gave numberless proofs of his amiable disposition. To mention but one instance, two of the students were bitterly prejudiced against each other, and he took them into a room by themselves, reasoned with them, wept over them, and at last prevailed. Their hearts were broken; they were melted down; they fell upon each others’ necks and wept aloud.

The long journeys on horseback, in all seasons and in all weathers, from Madeley to Trevecca and back again to Madeley, however, told upon his constitution, and much impaired his health.

MR. FLETCHER AS A CONTROVERSIALIST.

Mr. Fletcher’s connection with Trevecca College terminated in his resigning, in consequence of a dispute which arose out of certain minutes by the Wesleyan Conference in opposition to the doctrine of predestination, first brought into prominence by the great Geneva reformer, Calvin. Lady Huntingdon invited all in connection with the college to write their sentiments respecting them, adding a strong hint that all who did not repudiate the views contained in Mr. Wesley’s minutes must prepare to quit. Mr. Fletcher wrote strongly in favour of his friend Wesley, and resigned his appointment. These expressions of his views brought him in opposition to his patrons, the Hills, two of whom, Richard (afterwards Sir Richard) and Rowland, used their pens in defence of Mr. Fletcher’s opponent, a brother-clergyman named Toplady, then the great champion of Calvinism. Mr. Wesley, who had laid the train which led to the explosion, either from want of time or inclination to remain on the field, left two of his preachers to sustain the shock, and these proving unequal to the task, Mr. Fletcher was left to fight the battle single-handed. This he did in a series of cleverly-written works, entitled “Checks to Antinomianism,” in speaking of one of which in a letter to a friend, dated March 20, 1774:, he says:—“I do not repent of my having engaged in this controversy; for though I doubt my little publication cannot reclaim those who are confirmed in believing the lie of the day, yet it may here and there stop one from swallowing it all, or at least from swallowing it so deeply.” Two years after he says—“I have almost run my race of scribbling; and I have preached as much as I could, though to little purpose; but I must not complain. If one person has received good by my ten years’ labour it is an honour for which I cannot be too thankful, if my mind were as low as it should be.”

A not very friendly critic, the _Christian Observer_, speaking some time afterwards of this discussion, says:—

“We have no hesitation in saying that we believe Mr. Fletcher’s
motives in writing them to have been pure and upright. We also think
that in his manner of conducting the controversy, now happily almost
forgotten, he had decidedly the advantage of his antagonists. He was
an acute and animated disputant; a brilliant imagination rendered his
argumentation imposing, splendid, and dazzling, while it enabled him
to paint the doctrines of his adversaries in the darkest and most
odious colours; and whatever may have been the merits of the cause
which he defended,—into these we do not mean to enter,—he was
undoubtedly superior in talents and learning to all his opponents.”

Mr. Wesley says:—“One knows not which to admire most, the _purity_ of the language (such as scarce any foreigner wrote before); the _strength_ and _clearness_ of the argument; or the _mildness_ and _sweetness_ of the spirit that breathes throughout the whole.” Those who read these discussions in the present day feel surprised at the warmth and bitterness exhibited by the antagonists, but allowance must be made for the temper of the times.

MR. FLETCHER AS A POLITICIAN.

As in the religious controversy, so in the political dispute which arose out of the American War of Independence, Mr. Fletcher came forth as the champion of his friend Mr. Wesley, who having provoked his antagonists, deputed the task of answering them to the Madeley vicar, and the friends of both must now, we imagine, regret that either of them took up their pens in such a cause. It is not too much to say that both entered the lists, if not on the side of the oppressor, at any rate as against that spirit of liberty for which a Washington and a Franklin fought, and which had been implanted on New England soil by colonists to whom a Stuart king had made the old country unsafe longer to live in. The mistake was perhaps the result of that harsh-drawn line by which intensely devout minds like those of Mr. Wesley and Mr. Fletcher are apt to separate things religious and political, and which not unfrequently leads to an insensibility to public injustice and crime, even, strangely disproportioned to the zeal displayed in behalf of some dogmatic and invisible subtleties of creed. Dr. Arnold and others since Mr. Fletcher’s day have done much to correct the notion which removes religion and God from politics, and which sets up in sharp opposition the earthly and heavenly relations of men.

MR. FLETCHER AS A DESCRIPTIVE WRITER.

It may afford a fair specimen of Mr. Fletcher’s dispassionate descriptive style of writing, and at the same time serve to commemorate a notable phenomenon much talked of at that time, to quote his account of the great landslip at the Birches, just on the borders of the parishes of Madeley and Buildwas.

“When I went to the spot,” says Mr. Fletcher, “the first thing that
struck me was the destruction of the little bridge that separated the
parish of Madeley from that of Buildwas, and the total disappearing
of the turnpike road to Buildwas bridge, instead of which nothing
presented itself to my view but a confused heap of bushes, and huge
clods of earth tumbled one over another. The river also wore a
different aspect; it was shallow, turbid, noisy, boisterous, and came
down from a different point. Whether I considered the water or the
land the scene appeared to me entirely new, and as I could not fancy
myself in another part of the country, I concluded that the God of
nature had shaken his providential iron rod over the subverted spot
before me. Following the track made by a great number of spectators,
who came already from the neghbouring parishes, I climbed over the
ruins and came to a field well grown with rye-grass, where the ground
was greatly cracked in several places, and where large turfs, some
entirely, others half turned up exhibited the appearance of straight
or crooked furrows, imperfectly formed by a plough drawn at a
venture. Getting from that field over the hedge, into a part of the
road which was yet visible, I found it raised in one place, sunk in
another, concave in a third, hanging on one side in a fourth, and
contracted as if some uncommon force had pressed the two hedges
together. But the higher part of it surprised me most, and brought
directly to my remembrance those places of mount Vesuvius where the
solid stony lava has been strongly marked by repeated earthquakes,
for the hard-beaten gravel that formed the surface of the road was
broken every way into huge masses, partly detatched from each other,
with deep apertures between them exactly like the shattered lava.
This striking likeness of circumstances made me conclude that the
similar effect might proceed from the same cause, namely, a strong
convulsion on the surface if not in the bowels of the earth. Going a
little farther towards Buildwas I found that the road was again
totally lost for a considerable space, having been overturned,
absorbed, or tumbled with the hedges’ that bounded it to a
considerable distance towards the river; this part of the desolation
appeared then to me inexpressibly dreadful. Between a shattered
field and the river there was on that morning a bank on which besides
a great deal of underwood grew twenty fine large oaks, this wood shot
with such violence into the Severn before it that it forced the water
in great columns a considerable height, like mighty fountains, and
gave the overflowing river a retrograde motion. This is not the only
accident that happened to the Severn; for near the Grove the channel
which was chiefly of a soft blue rock burst in ten thousand pieces,
and rose perpendicularly about ten yards, heaving up the immense
quantity of water and the shoals of fishes that were therein. Among
the rubbish at the bottom of the river, which was very deep in that
place, there were one or two huge stones and a large piece of timber,
or an oak tree, which from time immemorial had lain partly buried in
the mud, I suppose in consequence of some flood; the stones and tree
were thrown up as if they had been only a pebble and a stick, and are
now at some distance from the river, many feet higher than the
surface of it. Ascending from the ruins of the road I came to those
of a barn, which after travelling many yards towards the river had
been absorbed in a chasm where the shattered roof was yet visible.
Next to these remains of the barn, and partly parallel with the
river, was a long hedge which had been torn from a part of it yet
adjoining the garden hedge, and had been removed above forty yards
downward together with some large trees that were in it and the land
that it enclosed. The tossing, tearing, and shifting of so many
acres of land below, was attended with the formation of stupendous
chasms above. At some distance above, near the wood which crowns
that desolated spot, another chasm, or rather a complication of
chasms excited my admiration; it is an assemblage of chasms, one of
which that seems to terminate the desolation to the north-east, runs
some hundred yards towards the river and Madeley Wood; it looked like
the deep channel of some great serpentine river dried up, whose
little islands, fords, and hollows appear without a watery veil.
This long chasm at the top seems to be made up of two or three that
run into each other, and their conjunction when it is viewed from a
particular point exhibits the appearance of a ruined fortress whose
ramparts have been blown up by mines that have done dreadful
execution, and yet have spared here and there a pyramid of earth, or
a shattered tower by which the spectators can judge of the nature and
solidity of the demolished bulwark. Fortunately there was on the
devoted spot but one house, inhabited by two poor countrymen and
their families; it stands yet, though it has removed about a yard
from its former situation. The morning in which the desolation
happened, Samuel Wilcocks, one of those countrymen, got up about four
o’clock, and opening the window to see if the weather was fair he
took notice of a small crack in the earth about four or five inches
wide, and observed the above mentioned field of corn heaving up and
rolling about like the waves of the sea; the trees by the motion of
the ground waved also, as if they had been blown with the wind,
though the air was calm and serene; the river Severn, which for some
days had overflowed its banks, was also very much agitated and seemed
to turn back to its source. The man being astonished at such a
sight, rubbed his eyes, supposing himself not quite awake, and being
soon convinced that destruction stalked about he alarmed his wife,
and taking the children in their arms they went out of the house as
fast as they could, accompanied by the other man and his wife. A
kind Providence directed their flight, for instead of running
eastward across the fields that were just going to be overthrown,
they fled westward into a wood that had little share in the
destruction. When they were about twenty yards from the house they
perceived a great crack run very quick up the ground from the river;
immediately the land behind them with the trees and hedges moved
towards the Severn with great swiftness and an uncommon noise, which
Samuel Wilcocks compared to a large flock of sheep running swiftly by
him. It was then chiefly that desolation expanded her wings over the
devoted spot and the Birches saw a momentary representation of a
partial chaos! then nature seemed to have forgotten her laws: trees
became itinerant!—those that were at a distance from the river
advanced towards it, while the submerged oak broke out of its watery
confinements and by rising many feet recovered a place on dry land;
the solid road was swept away as its dust had been on a stormy
day;—then probably the rocky bottom of the Severn emerged, pushing
towards heaven astonished shoals of fishes and hogsheads of water
innumerable;—the wood like an embattled body of vegetable combatants
stormed the bed of the overflowing river, and triumphantly waved its
green colours over its recoiling flood;—fields became moveable,—nay,
they fled when none pursued, and as they fled they rent the green
carpets that covered them in a thousand pieces;—in a word, dry land
exhibited the dreadful appearance of a sea-storm. Solid earth as if
it had acquired the fluidity of water tossed itself into massy waves,
which rose or sunk at the beck of him who raised the tempest; and
what is most astonishing, the stupendous hollow of one of those waves
ran for nearly a quarter of a mile through rocks and a stony soil
with as much ease as if dry earth, stones, and rocks had been a part
of the liquid element. Soon after the river was stopt, Samuel
Cookson, a farmer who lives a quarter of a mile below the Birches, on
the same side of the river, was much terrified by a dust of wind that
beat against his windows as if shot had been thrown against it, but
his fright greatly increased when getting up to see if the flood that
was over his ground had abated he perceived that all the water was
from his fields, and that scarce any remained in the Severn. He
called up his family, ran to the river, and finding that the river
was dammed up, he made the best of his way to alarm the inhabitants
of Buildwas, the next village above, which he supposed would soon be
under water. He was happily mistaken, providence just prepared a way
for their escape; the Severn, notwithstanding a considerable flood
which at that time rendered it doubly rapid and powerful, having met
with two dreadful shocks, the one from her rising bed and the other
from the intruding wood, could do nothing but foam and turn back with
impetuosity. The ascending and descending streams conflicted about
Buildwas bridge; the river sensibly rose for some miles back, and
continued rising till just as it was near entering the houses at
Buildwas it got a vent through the fields on the right, and after
spreading far and near over them collected all its might to assault
its powerful aggressor, I mean the Grove, that had so unexpectedly
turned it out of the bed which it had enjoyed for countless ages.
Sharp was the attack, but the resistance was yet more vigorous, and
the Severn, repelled again and again, was obliged to seek its old
empty bed, by going the shortest way to the right, and the moment it
found it again it precipitated therein with a dreadful roar, and for
a time formed a considerable cataract with inconceivable fury, as if
it wanted to be avenged on the first thing that came in its way,
began to tear and wash away a fine rich meadow opposite to the Grove,
and there in a few hours worked itself a new channel about three
hundred yards long, through which a barge from Shrewsbury ventured
three or four days after, all wonder at the strangement of the
overthrow.”

Mr. Fletcher added:—“My employment and taste leading me more to search out the mysteries of heaven than to scrutinize the phenomena of the earth, and to point at the wonders of grace rather than those of nature; I leave the decision of the question about the slip and the earthquake to some abler philosopher.”

The phenomenon was nothing more nor less than a landslip, such as has occurred time after time alongside the banks of the Severn, only upon a larger scale than usual; and Mr. Fletcher, as was his wont, turned the event to account by addressing the large number who had assembled to witness what had taken place, in words of earnest and solemn import, and by preaching again to them on the same spot the following evening.

MR. FLETCHER IN THE PULPIT.

In person Mr. Fletcher was above the middle stature. He had a pleasing face, a penetrating eye, and a slightly aquiline nose. His manners were courteous and graceful, and he displayed a dignity and humility of character rarely associated in the same person. In the pulpit, it is said, the liveliest fancy could not frame for any of the ancient saints an aspect more venerable or apostolic.

Of Mr. Fletcher’s preaching, the author of a letter quoted by Mr. Gilpin says:—

“I would rather have heard one sermon from Mr. Fletcher, _viva voce_,
than read a volume of his works. His words were clothed with power,
and entered with effect. His writings are arrayed in all the garb of
human literature. But his living word soared an eagle’s flight above
humanity. He basked in the sun, carried his young ones on his wings,
and seized the prey, for his Master. In short, his preaching was
apostolic; while his writings, tho’ enlightened, are but human.”

His aim was not to captivate his hearers by artificial means, but by simple and sincere scriptural arguments; and his language, gesture, voice, and pleasing expression of countenance aided much in fixing the attention and affecting the heart. Many walked long distances and brought their dinners with them, that they might attend morning and afternoon services; and deep indentations in the stone pillars of the vicarage gate exist to show where some sharpened their knives. He sometimes provided dinners for them in his own house.

The clerk at one of the churches Mr. Fletcher served for some time sought to turn his popularity to account by charging for admission to all not belonging to the parish, to which practice Mr. Fletcher soon put an end upon its coming to his knowledge, and compelled him to return the money.

Mr. Fletcher preached _extempore_, but generally used notes, or heads of the divisions and subdivisions of his subjects. We have eight of these (given us by Miss Tooth, Mrs. Fletcher’s adopted daughter). They are very neatly written, each one occupying a space of about seven inches by five. In preaching at Bristol on one occasion he said:—

“One Sunday when I had done reading prayers at Madeley, I went up
into the pulpit, intending to preach a sermon, which I had prepared
for that purpose. But my mind was so confused that I could not
recollect either my text or any part of my sermon. I was afraid I
should be obliged to come down without saying anything. But having
recollected myself a little, I thought I would say something on the
first lesson, which was the third chapter of Daniel, containing the
account of the three children cast into the fiery furnace: I found in
doing so such an extraordinary assistance from God, and such a
peculiar enlargement of the heart, that I supposed there must be some
peculiar cause for it. I therefore desired, if any of the
congregation found anything particular, they would acquaint me with
it in the ensuing week.

“In consequence of this, the Wednesday after, a woman came and gave
me the following account: ‘I have been for some time much concerned
about my soul. I have attended the church at all opportunities, and
have spent much time in private prayer. At this my husband (who is a
baker) has been exceedingly enraged, and threatened me severely what
he would do if I did not leave off going to John Fletcher’s church:
yea, if I dared to go to any more religious meetings whatsoever.
When I told him I could not, in conscience, refrain from going at
least to our parish church, he grew quite outrageous, and swore
dreadfully if I went any more he would cut my throat as soon as I
came home. This made me cry mightily to God that He would support me
in the trying hour. And though I did not feel any great degree of
comfort, yet having a sure confidence in God, I determined to go on
in my duty, and leave the event to Him. Last Sunday, after many
struggles with the devil and my own heart, I came down stairs ready
for church. My husband asked me whether I was resolved to go
thither. I told him I was. ‘Well then,’ said he, ‘I shall not (as I
intended) cut your throat, but I will heat the oven, and throw you
into it the moment you come home.’ Notwithstanding this threatening,
which he enforced with many bitter oaths, I went to church, praying
all the way that God would strengthen me to suffer whatever might
befall me. While you were speaking of the three children whom
Nebuchadnezzar cast into the burning fiery furnace, I found it all
belonged to _me_, and God applied every word to my heart. And when
the sermon was ended I thought if I had a thousand lives I could lay
them all down for God. I felt my whole soul so filled with His love
that I hastened home, fully determined to give myself to whatsoever
God pleased: nothing doubting but that either He would take me to
heaven if He suffered me to be burnt to death, or that He would some
way or other deliver me, even as He did his three _servants that
trusted in Him_. When I got almost to our own door I saw the flames
issuing out of the mouth of the oven; and I expected nothing else but
that I should be thrown into it immediately. I felt my heart rejoice
that, if it were so, the will of the Lord would be done. I opened
the door, and to my utter astonishment saw my husband upon his knees,
wrestling with God in prayer for the forgiveness of his sins. He
caught me in his arms, earnestly begging my pardon, and has continued
diligently seeking God ever since.’

“I now know why my sermon was taken from me—namely, that God might thus magnify His mercy.”

MR. FLETCHER’S CHARITY AND LOVE OF THE POOR.

Mr. Fletcher’s income from his living was not more on an average, Mrs. Fletcher says, than £100 per annum; and many of the wealthy people of the Dale objected to pay tythe, which he equally objected to enforce.

“But whether he had less or more, it was the same thing upon his own
account (Mrs. Fletcher remarks): as he had no other use for it, after
frugally supplying his own wants and the wants of those dependent on
him, but to spread the gospel and assist the poor. And he frequently
said he was never happier than when he had given away the last penny
he had in the house. If at any time I had gold in my drawers it
seemed to afford him no comfort. But if he could find a handful of
small silver when he was going out to see the sick he would express
as much pleasure over it as a miser would in discovering a pan of hid
treasure. He was never better pleased with my employment than when
he had set me to prepare food or physic for the poor. He was hardly
able to relish his dinner if some sick neighbour had not a part of
it; and sometimes when any one of them was in want I could not keep
the linen in his drawers. On Sundays he provided for numbers of
people who came from a distance to hear the word; and his house as
well as his heart was devoted to their convenience. To relieve them
that were afflicted in body or mind was the delight of his heart.
Once a poor man who feared God, being brought into great
difficulties, he took down all the pewter from the kitchen shelves,
saying—’This will help _you_, and I can do without it: a wooden
trencher will serve _me_ just as well.’ In epidemic and contagions
distempers, when the neighbours were afraid to nurse the sick, he has
gone from house to house, seeking some that were willing to undertake
that office. And when none could be found he has offered his
service, to sit up with them himself. But this was at his first
coming to Madeley. At present there is in many (and has been for
many years) a most ready mind to visit and relieve the distressed.

“He thoroughly complied with that advice—

‘Give to all something: to a good poor man,
Till thou change hands, and be where he began.’

“I have heard him say that when he lived alone in his house the tears
have come into his eyes when five or six insignificant letters have
been brought him, at three or four pence a-piece; and perhaps he had
only a single shilling in the house to distribute among the poor to
whom he was going. He frequently said to me—’O, Polly, can we not do
without beer? Let us drink water, and eat less meat. Let our
necessities give way to the extremities of the poor.’

“But with all his generosity and charity he was strictly careful to
follow the advice of the apostle, _Owe no man any thing_. He
contracted no debt. While he gave all he had he made it a rule to
pay ready-money for everything, believing this was the best way to
keep the mind unencumbered and free from care. Meanwhile his
substance, his time, his strength, his life, were devoted to the
service of the poor. And last of all he gave _me_ to them. For when
we were married he asked me solemnly ‘whether I was willing to marry
his parish?’ And the first time he led me among his people in this
place he said—‘I have not married this wife only for myself, but for
_you_. I asked her of the Lord for _your_ comfort as well as my
own.’”

MR. FLETCHER’S LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH.

Mr. Fletcher’s wish was to live as he would be likely to wish he had lived when he came to die, a holy life rather than a triumphant death being his main object. A Godly life was the way to a happy death, he stated in one of his sermons; nevertheless, he continued, this rule like many others might have exceptions, as the partial or entire derangement of the human machine, or the self-chastisement of a tender conscience on account of former infidelities might determine.

During the ravages of an infectious fever in the parish he reproved a portion of his flock who from fear of death refrained from rendering assistance to the sick and the dying. “Use every precaution prudence can suggest,” he said, “and meekly but confidently commit yourselves to the gracious Power in whom you live, and then without fear stand firm to the calls of duty. . . . For myself, whenever I shall have numbered the days He may appoint, I shall deem it an additional honour and blessing if He should appoint me to meet my death while I am engaged in the kind offices of humanity and mercy.”

Mr. Fletcher may be said to have had his wish, for he was engaged in visiting the sick and duties of a like kind on the Thursday, (August 4, 1785), from three in the afternoon till nine at night, when on returning home he found he had taken cold. On Friday and Saturday he suffered from fever, and on Sunday he began the service apparently with his usual strength; but he soon faltered. The congregation was alarmed, and Mrs. Fletcher earnestly entreated him to discontinue a task clearly beyond his strength. He recovered on the windows being opened, and preached with remarkable energy and effect. “As soon as he had finished his sermon,” one of his biographers says, “he walked to the communion-table. Here the same affecting scene was renewed with additional solemnity. Tears started from every eye and sighs escaped from every breast, while his people beheld their minister offering up the last languid remains of a life that had been lavishly spent in their service. In going through this last part of his duty he was frequently exhausted, but his spiritual vigour triumphed over his bodily weakness. At length, after having struggled through a service of some hours’ continuance, he was supported, with blessings in his mouth, from the altar to his chamber, where he lay some time in a swoon, and from whence he never walked into the world again. Mr. Fletcher’s friends entered so entirely into his devotional feelings that, they were spared the bitter pang which they would otherwise have experienced from the reflection that these imprudent exertions exasperated his disorder, and proved an acceleration of his death.”

He lingered till the following Sunday, at times greatly edifying his friends with accounts of his experience. Mr. Cox says:—

“After evening service several of the poor who came from a distance,
and were usually entertained under his roof, lingered about the
house, and at length expressed an earnest desire to be permitted once
more to behold their expiring pastor. Their request was granted.
The door of his chamber was set open, directly opposite to which he
was sitting upright in bed, unaltered in his appearance; and as they
slowly passed along the gallery, one by one, they paused at the door,
with a look of mingled supplication and anguish.

“A few hours after this affecting scene he breathed his last, without
a struggle or a groan. At the moment of his departure Mrs. Fletcher
was kneeling by his side; a domestic, who had attended him with
uncommon assiduity, was seated at his head; and his respected friend,
Mr. Gilpin, was sorrowfully standing near his feet. Uncertain
whether he had actually expired, they pressed near, and hung over his
bed in the attitude of listening attention. His lips had ceased to
move, and his head was gently sinking upon his bosom. They stretched
out their hands: but his warfare was accomplished, and his happy
spirit had taken its everlasting flight. Such was the end of this
eminently holy and laborious servant of God, who entered into rest on
the evening of Sunday, August 14, 1785, in the fifty-sixth year of
his age.

“Mr. Fletcher had frequently expressed an earnest desire that he
might be buried in the plainest manner possible. ‘Let there be no
pomp,’ he would say, ‘no expense, no ceremony, at my funeral. The
coffin of the parish poor will suit me best.’ To these instructions
his affectionate widow religiously adhered. A plain oak coffin, with
a brass plate, conveyed his honoured remains to their long home,
without a pall, pall-bearers, scarf, or hat-band. But two thousand
of his parishioners followed him to the grave, who manifested by all
the signs of unaffected sorrow their affliction for their irreparable
loss.”

TESTIMONIES OF THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF THE REV. JOHN FLETCHER.

Posthumous literature usually carries little weight. It often assumes virtues to which the deceased were strangers, and not unfrequently libels the dead. The simple epitaph on the plain iron plate which covers Mr. Fletcher’s remains in the Madeley churchyard is not of this class, but is so modest an expression of facts that it requires to be read by the light which the records of contemporaries throw upon it, and which will be found to be more on a level with the merits and virtues of the deceased.

The _Shrewsbury Chronicle_ of August, 1785, in recording the death of Mr. Fletcher had the following:—

“On the 14th instant, departed this life, the Rev. John Fletcher,
Vicar of Madeley, in this county, to the inexpressible grief and
concern of his parishioners, and of all who had the happiness of
knowing him. If we speak of him as a man, and a gentleman, he was
possessed of every virtue and every accomplishment, which adorns and
dignifies human nature. If we attempt to speak of him as a Minister
of the Gospel, it will be extremely difficult to give the world a
just idea of _this great Character_. His deep learning, his exalted
piety, his never-ceasing labours to discharge the important duties of
his function, together with the abilities and good effect with which
he discharged those duties are best known, and will never be
forgotten, in that vineyard in which he laboured. His charity, his
universal benevolence, his meekness, and exemplary goodness, are
scarcely equalled amongst the sons of men. Anxious, to the last
moment of his life, to discharge the sacred duties of his office, he
performed the service of the church, and administered the holy
sacrament to upwards of two hundred communicants, the Sunday
preceding his death, confiding in that Almighty Power, which had
given him life, and resigning that life into the hands of Him who
gave it, with that composure of mind, and those joyful hopes of a
happy resurrection, which ever accompany the last moments of the
just.”

“Fletcher is a seraph who burns with the ardour of divine love; and
spurning the fetters of mortality, he almost habitually seems to have
anticipated the rapture of the beatific vision.”—_Robert Hall_.

“A pattern of holiness, scarce to be paralleled in a
century.”—_Minutes of Wesleyan Conference_, 7, 183.

“I was intimately acquainted with him for above thirty years. I
never heard him speak one improper word, nor saw him do any improper
action. So unblamable a character, in every respect, I have not
found, and I scarce expect to find such another on this side of
eternity.”—_John Wesley_.

“Fletcher, I conceive to be the most holy man who has been upon earth
since the apostolic age.”—_Dr. Dixon_.

“No age or country has ever produced a man of more fervid piety, or
more perfect charity; no Church has ever possessed a more apostolic
minister.”—_Robert Southey_.

“He was a saint, a saint such as the Church of every age has produced
a few samples, as unearthly a being as could tread the earth at
all.”—_Isaac Taylor_.

“Almost an angel in human flesh, prayer, praise, love, and zeal were
the element in which he lived. His one employment was to call,
entreat, and urge others to ascend with him to the glorious Source of
being and blessedness.”—_Joseph Benson_.

The following is a copy of the entry in the parish register:—

“John Fletcher, clerk, died on Sunday evening, August 14th, 1785. He
was one of the most apostolic men of the age in which he lived. His
abilities were extraordinary, and his labours unparalleled. He was a
burning and shining light, and as his life had been a common blessing
to the inhabitants of this parish, so the death of this great man was
lamented by them as a common and irreparable loss. This little
testimony was inserted by one who sincerely loved and honoured him.
Joshua Gilpin, vicar of Wrockwardine.”

EPITAPH ON GRAVESTONE.

“Here lies the Body of
the REV. JOHN WILLIAM DE LA FLECHERE,
Vicar of Madeley.
He was born at Nyon, in Switzerland,
September 12th, MDCCXXIX,
and finished his Course in this Village,
August 14th, MDCCLXXXV, where his
unexampled labours will be long remembered.
He exercised his Ministry for the Space
of Twenty five Years in this Parish,
with uncommon Zeal and Ability.
Many believed his Report and became his Joy
and Crown of Rejoicing:
While others constrained him to take up
the Lamentation of the Prophet,
‘All the Day long have I stretched out my Hands
unto a disobedient and gainsaying People;
yet surely my Judgment is with the Lord,
and my Work with my God.
(He being dead yet speaketh.’)”

MRS. FLETCHER, OF MADELEY.

Long before the question of woman’s mission came to be debated, there were useful and pious women who quite came up to the standard modern champions of the sex have raised. History brings before us the names of many whose thoughts and doings had a vital influence upon the society in the midst of which they moved. The fidelity, zeal, and usefulness of some appear as a silver-thread woven into the past, showing that there is no sex in piety or in intellect. When the down trodden vine of Christianity had to be raised, tended, and made to entwine around the sceptre of the Cæsars, there were “fellow-helpers” of the apostles, “honourable women, not a few,” who distinguished themselves. So in the days of the Wesleys and Fletcher, there were women who greatly aided in the work of christian revival. Mrs. Fletcher was one of these. She was born at Forest House, once the residence of the Earl of Norwich, on the 1st September, 1739. The Cedars, another fine old mansion in Leytonstone, built by Charles II., was her property. She was therefore a Lady by birth and fortune; and she chose to be useful in her day and generation. She was the subject of early religious impressions, which gave tone and character to her life. The first use she made of her wealth and influence upon coining into possession of her property was to convert the spacious building she inherited into an Orphanage, and her income was devoted to the support of this and similar institutions. She held religious meetings, and exhorted among the Wesleyans, of which body she became a member. She heard frequently of Mr. Fletcher, and Mr. Fletcher of her, through the Wesleys; and a presentiment seems to have been felt by each that they were designed for each other. Twenty-six years however elapsed before proposals were made or an intimacy sprung up. They were married on the 12th of November, 1781, at Batley church, near Cross Hall, at that time the residence of Miss Bosanquet, and in January, 1782 she says in one of her letters:—

“On January 2nd, 1782, we set out for Madeley. But O! where shall I
begin my song of praise! What a turn is there in all my affairs!
What a depth of sorrow, distress, and perplexity, am I delivered
from! How shall I find language to express the goodness of the Lord!
Not one of the good things have failed me of all the Lord my God hath
spoken. Now I know no want but that of more grace. I have such a
husband as is in everything suited to me. He bears with all my
faults and failings, in a manner that continually reminds me of that
word, ‘Love your wives as Christ loved the church.’ His constant
endeavour is to make me happy; his strongest desire, my spiritual
growth. He is, in every sense of the word, the man my highest reason
chooses to obey. I am also happy in a servant, whom I took from the
side of her mother’s coffin, when she was four years old. She loves
us as if we were her parents, and is also truly devoted to God.”

Married life however with them was a short one. The seeds of disease which had previously shewn themselves became in course of time more fully developed, and in three years and nine months she was left a widow. She survived her husband 30 years; and was permitted to continue to live at the vicarage; and she frequently held meetings at the Rough Park, at Coalbrookdale, Madeley, and Madeley Wood; having first taken counsel of Mr. Wesley, who approved of the steps she had taken.

“The Old Barn” was one of the places long associated with her labours and her name, and was a place long endeared to Mr. Wesley’s early ministers, who used it for preaching and exhortation. It was a heavy half-timbered building, in the fashion of former times, a lithograph representation of which by a friend of ours, Mr. Philip Ballard, may be seen in the houses of many of the inhabitants of Madeley.

Sarah Lawrence, whom Mr. Fletcher took as a child from the side of her mother’s coffin, and adopted as a daughter, was a faithful friend, and of considerable assistance in visiting and conversing with the sick; but she died some years before Mrs. Fletcher, who built a chapel at Coalport to her memory, in consequence of a dream Miss Lawrence had had, that great good would result from the erection of a place of worship there. The lease, we believe, has now expired.

Miss Tooth, another adopted daughter, survived Mrs. Fletcher, and for many years continued the Sunday morning meetings in a large upper room of her house, which is now converted into a public house. The Rev. George Perks who now holds a distinguished position among the Wesleyans, the present writer, and many others, attended these meetings. Miss Tooth took care that they did not interfere with the services of the Established church, which she set the example of attending punctually. She usually read one of Mrs. Fletcher’s papers, such as she had formerly read herself at her meetings. Speaking of Mrs. Fletcher, soon after her death Miss Tooth said:

“Her whole life was one of self-sacrificing endeavour to do good to
the souls and bodies of men. She lived not for herself but for
others. She was one of a thousand, as of mercy, so of economy;
always sparing of expense upon herself, that she might have more to
give to ‘the household of faith.’ She would often say, ‘God’s
receivers upon earth are Christ’s Church and His poor.’ When I have
proposed the purchasing of some article of clothing for her, she
would ask, ‘Is it quite necessary? If not do not buy it: it will be
much better to give the money to some of our poor neighbours than to
lay it out upon me.’ Nor was this once only; it was invariably her
conduct; and with great truth it might be constantly said of her
also, that

“‘What her charity impairs,
She saves by prudence in affairs.’

“She was remarkably exact in setting down every penny she expended.
She kept four different accounts, in which all she spent was
included. These four were the house, sundries, clothes, and poor.
We have often at the end of the year been astonished to find the
house expenses so small, considering how many had shared with us. At
such times she has said, ‘It is the Lord who has blessed our bread
and water.’”

RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF MADELEY IN MR. AND MRS. FLETCHER’S DAY.

Having given sketches of Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher at some length, we now proceed to notice the religious aspect of Madeley at that period. In order to do this more fully we notice, first, that Mr. Fletcher during the three years which elapsed between his ordination and presentation to the living at Madeley, in 1760, occasionally visited the parish and officiated for Mr. Chambers, the then vicar, as his curate. He was therefore acquainted with the nature of the charge he was about to undertake, and with the character of the people among whom he was about to labour, a tolerable estimate of which may be gleaned from the description given by one of Mr. Fletcher’s biographers, the Rev. J. Benson, who says:—

“Celebrated for the extensive works carried on within its limits,
Madeley was remarkable for little else than the ignorance and
profaneness of its inhabitants, among whom respect to man was as
rarely to be observed, as piety towards God. In this benighted place
the Sabbath was openly profaned, and the most holy things
contemptuously trampled under foot; even the restraints of decency
were violently broken through, and the external form of religion held
up as a subject of ridicule. This general description of the
inhabitants of Madeley, must not, however, be indiscriminately
applied to every individual among them: exceptions there were to this
prevailing character, but they were comparatively few indeed. Such
was the place where Mr. Fletcher was called to stand forth, as a
preacher of righteousness, and in which he appeared, for the space of
five-and-twenty years as a burning and shining light.”

How he laboured is best described by the same writer, who says:—

“Not content with discharging the stated duties of the Sabbath, he
counted that day as lost, in which he was not actually employed in
the service of the church. As often as a small congregation could be
collected, which was usually every evening, he joyfully proclaimed to
them the acceptable year of the Lord, whether it were in the place
set apart for public worship, in a private house, or in the open air.
And, on these occasions, the affectionate and fervent manner in which
he addressed his hearers, was an affecting proof of the interest he
took in their spiritual concerns. As the varying circumstances of
his people required, he assumed a different appearance among them: at
one season he would open his mouth in blessings: and, at another, he
would appear, like his Lord amid the buyers and sellers, with the
lash of righteous severity in his hand. But, in whatever way he
exercised his ministry, it was evident that his labours were
influenced by love, and tended immediately, either to the extirpation
of sin, or the increase of holiness.”

And Mr. Wesley, speaking of his friend’s conduct and labours to spread the truth and to repress vice in every possible way, says:—

“Those sinners, who endeavoured to hide themselves from him, he
pursued to every corner of his parish: by all sorts of means, public
and private, early and late, in season and out of season, entreating
and warning them to flee from the wrath to come. Some made it an
excuse for not attending the church service on a Sunday morning, that
they could not awake early enough to get their families ready. He
provided for this also. Taking a bell in his hand, he set out every
Sunday for some months, at five in the morning, and went round the
most distant parts of the parish, inviting all the inhabitants to the
house of God.”

So stubborn and unyielding were the materials, that for some time he saw so little fruit of his labours that he tells us he was more than once in doubt, whether he had not mistaken his place, and that he was violently, as he tells Mr. Charles Wesley, tempted to quit the place. After a little time his church became crowded; excitement then died away, and strong opposition sprang up; but there was an energy about his preaching and exhortations which was irresistible, and he succeeded in his work. The change effected in the whole tone and character, of thought and feeling among the inhabitants was obvious, and perceptible to the most prejudiced. That a life of surpassing purity and self-sacrifice to the highest ends should produce such effects shewed that even low and carnal nature when honestly appealed to is not wholly insensible to true and genuine piety. He laboured and others entered into his labours.