Chapter XXVI: Last Days on Earth (2)

“September 12. This day I am forty-five years old. I have had such a
sense of the goodness of God toward me as I cannot express. I am
filled with favours. I have the best of husbands, who daily grows more
and more spiritual, and I think more healthful, being far better than
when we first married. My call also is so clear, and I have such
liberty in the work, and such sweet encouragement among the people. My
servant, too, is much improved, and as faithful as if she were my own
child. An income quite comfortable, and a good deal to help the poor
with! O what shall I render to the Lord for all the mercies He hath
shown unto me!”

In this happy home, Fletcher wrote the following happy letter to a youth, his godson, by name John Fennel:—

“MADELEY, _November 28, 1784_.

“DEAR JOHN,—I rejoice to hear that you think of a better world; and of
that better part which Mary, and your mother—another Mary—chose before
you. May all her prayers, and, above all, may the dew of heaven, come
down upon your soul in solemn thoughts, heavenly desires, and strong
resolutions to be the Lord’s, cost what it will. Let the language of
your heart and lips be, ‘I will be a follower of Christ, a child of
God, an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven.’ A noble promise this! of
which I have so peculiar a right to put you in mind. In order to be
this happy and holy soul, you must not forget that your Christian
name, your Christian vow, and ten thousand reasons beside, bind you to
turn your back upon the world, the flesh, and the devil; and to set
yourself to look steadfastly to the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, your
Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier.

“Dear John, you have no time to lose. We have calls here to the young
without end. I lately buried, in our churchyard, two brothers and
sisters in the same grave. Be you also ready! I was praying for you
some nights ago on my bed, in my sleepless hours; and I asked for you
the faith of righteous Abel, the chastity of Joseph, the early piety
of Samuel, the right choice of young Solomon, the self-denial and
abstinence of Daniel, together with the early zeal and undaunted
courage of his three friends; but, above all, I asked that you might
follow John the Baptist and John the Apostle as they followed our
Lord. Back, earnestly back my prayers. So shall you be faithful,
diligent, godly; a blessing to all around you, and a comfort to your
affectionate old friend and minister,

“JOHN FLETCHER.”[620]

Footnote 620:

_The Youth’s Instructor_, 1835, p. 305.

At this period, the Rev. Charles Simeon, a young man of twenty-five, and full of faith and zeal, was rising into great popularity among the Methodist clergymen of the day. He was an intimate friend of Berridge and of Henry Venn; and had recently visited Riland at Birmingham, Cadogan at Reading, Pentycross at Wallingford, and Robinson at Leicester;[621] and now, toward the end of 1784, he came to Fletcher at Madeley. As soon as he entered the vicarage, Fletcher took him by the hand and brought him into the parlour, where the two engaged in prayer. That being ended, Fletcher asked Simeon to preach in the church. After some hesitation, Simeon consented; and away went Fletcher, bell in hand, through the village, and, ringing as loudly as he could, told the people they must attend church, for a young clergyman from Cambridge had come to preach to them.

Footnote 621:

“Simeon’s Memoirs,” by W. Carus, M.A.

After the service in the church, Fletcher and his visitor went for a walk, in the course of which they entered the ironworks. Simeon was surprised at the aptitude of Fletcher to turn everything he saw to spiritual profit. To one of the ironworkers, hammering on an anvil, he remarked, “O, pray to God that He may hammer that hard heart of yours.” To another, who was heating a bar of iron, “Ah! thus it is that God tries His children in the furnace of affliction.” And to a third, who was drawing a furnace, “See, Thomas! if _you_ can make such a furnace as that, think what a furnace God can make for sinners.”[622]

Footnote 622:

_Christian Miscellany_, 1848, p. 326.

Soon after this, Wesley wrote:—

“1784, Monday, December 20. I went to Hinxworth, where I had the
satisfaction of meeting Mr. Simeon, Fellow of King’s College in
Cambridge. He has spent some time with Mr. Fletcher, at Madeley: two
kindred souls; much resembling each other both in fervour of spirit
and in the earnestness of their address. He gave me the pleasing
information that there are three parishes in Cambridge wherein true
Scriptural religion is preached, and several young gentlemen who are
happy partakers of it.”[623]

Footnote 623:

Wesley’s Journal.

Fletcher, the Madeley revivalist, was closing his last year on earth; Simeon, the Cambridge one, lived and laboured for more than half a century afterwards; and who can say that in Simeon’s life and labours the influence of Fletcher’s spirit and example was not an element?

A few more extracts from Fletcher’s letters, and then the end will come. Already he seemed to be waiting to “gather up his feet,” and die. In a letter to Mrs. Thornton, a friend of the Greenwood family, at Stoke Newington, he wrote:—

“Madeley, _January 21, 1785_. I make just shift to fill up my little
sentry box, by the help of my dear partner. Had we more strength, we
should have opportunity enough to exert it. O that we were but truly
faithful in our little place! Your great stage of London is too high
for people of little ability and little strength; and, therefore, we
are afraid of venturing upon it. We should be glad to rise high in
usefulness; but God, who needs us not, calls us to sink in deep
resignation and humility. His will be done!”[624]

Footnote 624:

Letters, 1791, p. 303.

Three weeks later, he wrote to the Right Hon. Lady Mary Fitzgerald, as follows:—

“Madeley, February 11, 1785. Who are we, my lady, that we should not
be swallowed up by the holy, loving, living Spirit, who fills heaven
and earth? Whether we consider it or not, there He is, a true, holy,
loving, merciful God. Assent to it, my lady, believe it; rejoice in
it. Let Him be God, _all in all_; your God in Christ Jesus. What an
ocean of love to swim in—to dive into!”[625]

Footnote 625:

_Ibid._, p. 304.

From Fletcher’s letter to Wesley in 1755, and his “Socinianism Unscriptural,” written during the last years of his life, it is undeniably evident that Fletcher was a Millenarian. The following letter, to Mr. Henry Brooke, of Dublin, refers to the same subject, but shows that he was not so confident with respect to some of his views as he had been heretofore—

“MADELEY, _February 28, 1785_.[626]

“MY DEAR BROTHER,—We are all shadows. Your mortal parent has passed
away; and we must pass away after him. A lesson I learn daily, is to
see things and persons in their _invisible root_, and in their
_eternal principle_; where they are not subject to change, decay, and
death; but where they blossom and shine in the primæval excellence
allotted them by their gracious Creator. By this means, I learn to
walk by faith, and not by sight. Tracing His image, in all the
footsteps of nature, and finding out that which is of God _in
ourselves_, is the true wisdom, genuine godliness. I hope you will
never be afraid, nor ashamed of it. I see no danger in these studies
and meditations, provided we still keep the end in view—the _all_ of
God, and the _shadowy nothingness_ of all that is visible.

“With respect to the great Pentecostal display of the Spirit’s glory,
I still look for it within and without; and to look for it aright is
the lesson I am learning. I am now led to be afraid of that in my
nature, which would be for pomp, show, and visible glory. I am afraid
of falling, by such an expectation, into what I call a spiritual
Judaizing; into a looking for Christ’s coming in my own pompous
conceit, which might make me reject Him, if _His_ wisdom, to crucify
_mine_, chose to come in a meaner way: if, instead of coming in His
Father’s glory, He chose to come meek, riding, not on the cherubim,
but on the foal of an ass. Our Saviour said, with respect to His going
to the feast, ‘My time is not yet come:’ whether His time to come and
turn the thieves and buyers out of the outward church is yet come, I
know not. I doubt Jerusalem, and the holy place, are yet given to be
trodden under foot by the Gentiles. But _my_ Jerusalem! why it is not
swallowed up of that which comes down from heaven, is a question which
I wait to be solved by the teaching of the great Prophet, who is alone
possessed of Urim and Thummim. The mighty power to wrestle with Him is
all divine: and I often pray,—

“‘That mighty faith on me bestow,
Which cannot ask in vain,
Which holds and will not let Thee go,
Till I my suit obtain:

“‘Till Thou into my soul inspire
That perfect love unknown,
And tell my infinite desire,
Whate’er Thou wilt be done.’

“In short, the Lord crucifies my _wisdom_ and my _will_ every way; but
I must be crucified as the _thieves_. _All my bones must be broken_;
for there is still in me that impatience of wisdom, which would stir,
when the tempter says, ‘Come down from the cross.’ It is not for us to
know the times and seasons, the manner and mystical means of God’s
working; but only to hunger and thirst, and lie passive before the
great Potter. I begin to be content to be a vessel of _clay_ or of
_wood_, so that I may be emptied of self, and filled with my God, my
all.

“I am exceeding glad that your dear partner goes on simply and
believingly. Such a companion is a great blessing; for when two shall
agree touching one thing in prayer, it shall be done. My wife and I
endeavour to fathom the meaning of that deep promise. Join us, and let
us search after that which exceeds _knowledge_—I mean the wisdom, and
the power, the love, and the faithfulness of God.

“Adieu! _Be God’s_, as the French say, and see God is _yours_ in
Christ, for you,[627] for brothers Dugdale, Shannon, Pickering, Mrs.
Blashford, etc.

“We are your obliged friends,
“JOHN AND MARY FLETCHER.”[628]

Footnote 626:

In an unpublished letter, dated, “Sunday Evening, _February 27,
1785_,” and signed “John and Mary Fletcher,” but evidently written by
the latter, it is said:—“My dear Mr. Fletcher has had a bad cold; but
is better. He is all alive, and living for eternity.”

Footnote 627:

These names are in the _original_ letter.

Footnote 628:

Letters, 1791, p. 307.

It must be confessed that there is a little mysticism in Fletcher’s letter; but let it pass. The next was written a month later. The Rev. Peard Dickenson was now in the twenty-sixth year of his age. He had been ordained a deacon, on June 16, 1783, and, a few months afterwards, had been ordained a priest by the Archbishop of Canterbury. He was now the Curate of the venerable Vicar of Shoreham, the Rev. Vincent Perronet, and wrote to Fletcher, asking his advice respecting pastoral visitation. Fletcher replied, as follows:—

“MADELEY, _March 29, 1785_.

“DEAR SIR,—I did not answer your obliging letter, because I thought it
would be presumption in me to advise you, when you have my reverend
father, Mr. Perronet, to advise with. To send a line, in those
circumstances, appeared to me like ‘sending coals to Newcastle.’

“However, having now an opportunity to forward a letter to London, I
shall say what I have thought on the subject. It is exceeding well to
visit from house to house, even the Infidels, to feel their pulse, and
to see whether they do not begin to entertain more favourable thoughts
of ‘the pearl of great price’ than grunting ‘swine’ or snarling ‘dogs’
generally do. Such visits, half upon the footing of Christian love,
and half upon the footing of human civility, may tend to remove
prejudices. In some cases, writing a letter with tenderness, or giving
a little tract suited to the circumstances of the person, may clear
our own conscience, though it should do him no good.

“My love, respects, and duty, to your venerable Vicar, who, I am told,
is now your grandfather.[629] I hope the report is well grounded; and,
if it is, I wish you joy on entering into so respectable a family; and
I wish you and your partner all the help and comfort I find in mine;
who, as well as myself, desires to be kindly remembered to all the
dear family at Shoreham.

“I am, dear Sir, your affectionate brother and servant in Christ,

“JOHN FLETCHER.”[630]

Footnote 629:

This was a premature statement. Mr. Dickenson did not marry Miss
Briggs, Mr. Perronet’s grand-daughter, until three years later.

Footnote 630:

_Wesleyan Methodist Magazine_, 1825, p. 745.

The Rev. Melville Horne was one of Fletcher’s protegees. At Wesley’s Conference, in 1784, he had been “admitted on trial,” as a Methodist Itinerant Preacher, and appointed to the Liverpool circuit. It is well known that, after this, he obtained episcopal ordination, became curate at Madeley, published a collection of Fletcher’s letters in 1791, went as a missionary to Western Africa, and, on his return to England, rose to considerable distinction. Fletcher had lent the young itinerant certain books, and now wrote to him the following letter, which refers to a practice which must have been of recent adoption. Romaine made it a rule to read nothing but the Bible; wisely or unwisely, Fletcher had begun, to some extent, to copy his example:—

“MADELEY, _May 10, 1785_.

“DEAR BROTHER,—I am sorry you should have been uneasy about the books.
I received them safely, after they had lain for some days at Salop. I
seldom look into any book but my Bible; not out of contempt, as if I
thought they cannot teach me what I do not know; but because, ‘_Vita
brevis, ars longa_,’ I may never look into them again.

“Go on improving yourself by reading, but above all by _meditation_
and _prayer_: and allow our Lord to refine you in the fire of
temptation. Where you see a want, at home or abroad, within or
without, look upon that want as a warning to avoid the cause of the
leanness you perceive, and a call to secure the blessings which are
ready to take their flight; for sometimes ‘_the true riches_,’ like
those of this world, make themselves wings and flee away. The heavenly
dove may be grieved, and take its flight to humbler and more peaceful
roofs. I am glad you do not want hard or violent measures: I hope you
will never countenance them, no, not against what you dislike. I
believe things will turn out very well at the Conference, and I shall
be a witness of it, if the Lord gives me a commission to be a
spectator of the order and quietness of those who shall be there. If
not, I shall help you by prayer to draw the blessing of love upon our
friends.[631]

“In being moderate, humble, and truly desirous to be a Christian,—that
is, to be the _least_, the _last_, and the _servant_ of all, we avoid
running ourselves into difficulties; we escape many temptations, and
many mortifying disappointments. For my part, as I expect nothing from
men, they cannot disappoint me; and, as I expect all good things from
God, in the _time_, _way_, _measure_, and _manner_ it pleaseth Him to
bestow, here I cannot be disappointed; because He does, and will do,
all things well.

“I trust you labour for God and souls, not for praise and self. When
the latter are our aim, God, in mercy, blesses us with barrenness,
that we may give up Barabbas, and release the humble Jesus, whom we
crucify afresh by setting the thief on the throne, and the Lord of
glory as our footstool: for so do those who preach Christ out of
contention, or that they may have the praise of men.

“That God may bless you and your labours is the prayer of your old
brother,

“JOHN FLETCHER.”[632]

Footnote 631:

Evidently, Fletcher hoped to attend Wesley’s Conference, begun in
London on July 26, 1785, but his hope was not fulfilled.

Footnote 632:

Letters, 1791, p. 309.

A capital letter for a young Methodist preacher, like Melville Horne, who, six years afterwards, published it for the benefit of all Methodist probationers.

At this time, fever was raging at Madeley. Mr. W. Bosanquet, in an unpublished letter, addressed to his sister, Mrs. Fletcher, and dated “Bishopsgate Street, May 16, 1785,” observed:—

“I am very happy to hear that both you and Mr. Fletcher have escaped
the fevers, having been so much among them. The poor must feel
themselves greatly obliged for this; for it is of much more use to
visit them when sick than even to give them money.”

The revered Vicar of Shoreham, the Rev. Vincent Perronet, died exactly a week before the date of this letter, and was buried on May 14, by Charles Wesley, who wrote to Mrs. Fletcher, as follows:—

“MARYLEBONE, _May 24, 1785_.

“MY DEAR SISTER,—If you love Mr. Fletcher, you ought to love the poor
Methodists; for to their prayers you owe him, and he you. I found
words, and the people faith, while we heard, at Bristol” (in 1776),
“that our friend was just departing.[633] You have been the instrument
of adding some years to his valuable life. Remember, for the short
time that I shall want your prayers, my dear friend, your old faithful
servant,

“C. WESLEY.”

Footnote 633:

The reference is to the hymn quoted at page 362 of the present work.

And then, on the same sheet, the poet of Methodism wrote to Fletcher himself the following:—

“MY VERY DEAR BROTHER,—You ought to have paid the last office, instead
of me, to our most venerable Archbishop at Shoreham. On Sunday, I
deposited the sacred ashes in his partner’s grave, and preached twice.
His death was such as his life promised. For many years, he breathed
the pure spirit of love. The survivor who follows him nearest is
_longo proximus intervallo_.

“A fortnight ago, I preached the condemned sermon to above twenty
criminals. Every one of them, I have good grounds to believe, died
penitent. Twenty more must die next week.

“Sally presents her duty and love: the rest join. Direct to me in
Marylebone, and help me to depart in peace.”[634]

Footnote 634:

“Memoir of Mrs. Mortimer,” p. 101.

This, probably, was the last letter which Fletcher received from his old and loving friend. Within three years afterwards, Charles Wesley did “depart in peace.” Fletcher’s last letters, written eight weeks after the date of the foregoing, were addressed to James Ireland, Esq., and to Lady Mary Fitzgerald. It has been already stated that fever was fatally prevalent at Madeley in the summer of 1785, and an extract from a letter written by William Bosanquet, Esq., expressing his happiness that Fletcher and his wife had escaped the pestilence, has been already given. Soon after that, the sister of Mr. Bosanquet caught the infection; and Fletcher wrote as follows to Mr. Ireland:—

“MADELEY, _July 19, 1785_.

“MY DEAR FRIEND,—Blessed be God, we are still alive, and, in the midst
of many infirmities, we enjoy a degree of health, spiritually and
bodily. O how good was the Lord, to come as Son of man to live here
for us, and to come in His Spirit to live in us for ever! This is a
mystery of godliness. The Lord make us _full_ witnesses of it!

“A week ago, I was tried to the quick by a fever with which my dear
wife was afflicted. Two persons, whom she had visited, having been
carried off, within a pistol-shot of our house, I dreaded her being
the third. But the Lord has heard prayer, and she is spared. Oh, what
is life! ‘On what a slender thread hang everlasting things!’ My
comfort, however, is, that this _thread_ is as strong as the will of
God, and the word of His grace, which cannot be broken.

“That grace and peace, love and thankful joy, may ever attend you is
the wish of your most obliged friends,

“JOHN AND MARY FLETCHER.”[635]

Footnote 635:

Letters, 1791, p. 310.

The day after this, he wrote the following to the Right Honorable Lady Mary Fitzgerald:—

“MADELEY, _July 20, 1785_.

“HON. AND DEAR LADY,—We have received your kind letter, and have
mournfully acquiesced in the will of our heavenly Father, who, by
various infirmities and providences, weans us from ourselves and our
friends, that we may be His without reserve. It was, perhaps, a
peculiar mercy that Providence blocked up your way to this place this
summer. A bad putrid fever carries off several people in these parts.
Two of our neighbours died of it last week; and my wife, who had
visited them, was taken in so violent a manner, that I was obliged to
offer her up to God in good earnest, as an oblation worthy a son of
Abraham. I hope the worst is over; but her weakness will long preach
to me, as well as my own.

“Dying people, we live in the midst of dying people. O let us live in
sight of a dying, rising Saviour; and the prospect of death will
become first tolerable, and then joyous! Or, if we weep, as our Lord,
at the grave of our friends, or at the side of their deathbeds, we
shall triumph in hope that all will be for the glory of God, and the
good of our souls.

“I am, my dear lady, etc.,
“JOHN FLETCHER.”[636]

Footnote 636:

Fletcher’s Works, vol. viii., p. 329.

Twenty-five days after writing this, his last letter, Fletcher himself was dead. His wife, who had so narrowly escaped becoming a victim to the prevailing fever, shall tell the remainder of his earthly story. The day after the funeral, she wrote a letter to Wesley, a copy of which she immediately gave to Fletcher’s “old friend, Winifred Edmunds, whose son,” says she, “prints it for the satisfaction of many who have made applications for some account of God’s dealings with my beloved husband. I consider this a debt I owe to his dear orphans at Madeley; and, as it is probable I may be called away by the same fever, perhaps this may be the last office of love I can yield them.” The title of the publication was, “A Letter to the Rev. Mr. Wesley, on the Death of the Rev. Mr. Fletcher, Vicar of Madeley, in Shropshire. Madeley: Printed by J. Edmunds.” 16mo, 16 pp. About the same time, however, Mrs. Fletcher wrote a much longer account, which was printed with the following title: “A Letter to Mons. H. L. de la Flechere, Assessor Ballival of Nyon, in the Canton of Berne, Switzerland, on the Death of his Brother, the Reverend John William De la Flechere, Twenty-five Years Vicar of Madeley, Shropshire. London, 1786.” 12mo, 64 pp. From these two publications, the following account is taken. Writing to Fletcher’s brother, the mourning widow said:—

“As there is no one to whom my dearest husband was more closely united
than yourself, so there is no one who can more tenderly sympathize
with me in a loss _so mutual_. You have expressed a desire to receive
from my own pen some account of a life the most angelic I have ever
known; and I will endeavour to comply with your request as far as my
weak state of body and torn nerves will permit.

“From the beginning, he was a laborious workman in his Lord’s
vineyard, till he had spent himself in the best of services and was
ripening fast for glory. Those sinners who fled from him he pursued to
every corner of his parish by all sorts of ways, 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 service on Sunday _mornings_ that they did not awake
early enough to get their families ready. He promised to be their
watchman; and, taking a bell in his hand, was accustomed, at five in
the morning, to go round the more distant parts of the parish,
reminding the inhabitants of their invitation to the house of God.

“But he did not confine his labours to this parish. For many years, he
regularly preached at places eight, ten, or sixteen miles distant,
returning home the same night, though he seldom reached it before one
or two in the morning. At a little Society, which he had gathered
about six miles from Madeley, he preached two or three times in a week
at five in the morning. As to visiting the sick, this was a duty for
which he was ever ready. If he heard the knocker in the middle of the
coldest winter night, his window was instantly thrown up, and the
uniform answer was, ‘_I will attend you immediately_.’

“His frequent journeys to Trevecca, where he superintended a college
of young men designed for the ministry, added much to his other
fatigues,—riding on bad roads and wading through waters. Very often,
in travelling through Wales, he was obliged to lie in damp and
unsuitable lodgings; which, I have heard him observe, gave a deep
stroke to his constitution.

“With regard to the _success_ of his labours, it is a subject on which
he has so often stopped my mouth that I will only say, besides the
great reformation that has taken place in this parish, as to outward
behaviour, he has left behind him a goodly company of upright, earnest
people, whom he had gathered into little Societies, and who now mourn,
as sheep bereaved of their dear shepherd.

“Never did I behold any one more dead to the things of the world. I
have heard him say 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 the
drawer, it seemed to afford him no comfort; but if he could find a
handful of small silver when going out to visit the sick, he would
express as much pleasure over it as a miser would in discovering a bag
of hidden treasure. He was never better pleased with my employment
than when he had set me to prepare food or physic for the poor. He
could hardly relish his dinner if some sick neighbour had not a part;
nor could I sometimes keep the linen in his drawers for the same
reason. On Sabbath days, he provided refreshments for numbers of
people who came from a distance to hear the Word, and his house was
devoted to their convenience. Once a poor widow, who feared God, being
brought into difficulties, he immediately took all his pewter from the
kitchen shelves, saying, ‘This I can do without; it will relieve your
want, and a wooden trencher serves me better.’ Sometimes, in epidemic
disorders, when the neighbours were afraid to nurse the sick, he has
gone from house to house seeking help for them; and, when none could
be found, has offered to sit up with the sick himself. In his younger
years, he was ready to weep when five or six letters were brought, at
threepence or fourpence a-piece, and he, perhaps, had only a shilling
in the house to distribute among the poor to whom he was going.
Frequently would he say to me, ‘O Mary, cannot we do without beer? Let
us drink water, and buy less meat, that our necessities may give way
to the extremities of the poor.’ But with all his charity, he was
careful to avoid debts. While he gave all he could, he made it a rule
to pay ready money for everything, believing this was the only way to
keep the mind free from cares.

“He always had a steady, firm reliance upon the love and faithfulness
of God. Sometimes, when I have expressed a fear of trials, he would
answer, ‘The Lord orders all, and I leave everything to Him. I always
seem conscious He gives His angels charge concerning us, and therefore
think we are equally safe everywhere.’ He had many remarkable
deliverances. Sometimes, both himself and his horse, in dark nights,
have fallen down steep places, and yet both have been preserved. Once,
I believe in Wales, in passing over a wooden bridge it broke asunder,
and he and his mare sank into the river, but both got safe to land.

“A little before his last illness, being on his knees in prayer for
light whether he should go to London or not,[637] the answer seemed to
him, ‘No, not to London, but to your grave.’ Acquainting me with this,
he said, with a heavenly smile, ‘Satan would represent this as
something awful, _the cold grave, the cold grave_!’ On the following
Sabbath (which I think was the next day), the anthem sung in the
church was the Twenty-third Psalm. On his return home, he observed how
the words of the Psalm had been blest to him; and from that time he
seemed to be without the least temptation.

“Still, there was scarce a night but some part of it was spent in
groans for the souls and bodies of those committed to his care. I
really dreaded his hearing either of the sins or sufferings of any of
his people before he went to bed, knowing how strong the impression
would be upon his mind.

“In the last years of his life, he never, except once, travelled far
from home without being in danger of a relapse into his consumption;
and after his return, he would be weeks before he recovered his usual
strength. He also sometimes said to me that, though he had been
engaged in the work of the Lord in various places and situations, the
seasons of his closest communion with God were always in his own house
and church.

“With regard to his communion with God, he constantly endeavoured to
maintain an uninterrupted sense of the Divine presence. In order to
this, he was slow of speech, and had the greatest government of his
words. He acted, he spake, he thought, as under the immediate eye of
God. Thus setting God always before him, he remained unmoved, at all
times possessing internal recollection. I never saw him diverted
therefrom on any occasion whatever. I travelled with him above a
thousand miles, during which journeys neither change of company,
place, nor circumstances ever seemed to make the least difference in
his fixed attention to the presence of God. He was always striving to
raise his own and every other spirit into close and immediate
intercourse with God; and I can say, with truth, that all his union
with me was so mingled with prayer and praise, that every employment
and every meal were perfumed therewith.

“Some time ago, when the fever began to rage among us, he preached a
sermon on visiting the sick; in which he seemed to be carried out of
himself, observing, ‘What do you fear? You are afraid of catching the
distemper, and of dying with those who have it. O fear no more! What
an honour to die in your Master’s service! If this were permitted to
me, I should esteem it a singular favour.’

“During the last few months, though his health and strength sensibly
increased, he was constantly crying out for dying grace. Often would
he say, ‘O Mary, I am afraid lest we should have our good things here.
Let us look up. Let us live above all. We have one foot in the grave.’
He scarcely ever lay down or rose up without repeating—

“I nothing have, I nothing am;
My treasure’s in the bleeding Lamb,
Both now and evermore.

“There was scarce an hour in which he was not calling upon me to drop
every thought and every care, that we might attend to nothing but
drinking deeper into God. We spent much time in prayer for the fulness
of the Spirit, and were led to an act of _abandonment_ (as we called
it) of our whole selves into the hands of God, to do or to suffer
whatever was pleasing to Him.

“On Thursday, August 4, he was occupied in the work of God from three
in the afternoon till nine at night; when he came home, and said, ‘I
have taken cold.’ On Friday and Saturday, he was poorly; but went out
part of each day, and seemed uncommonly drawn out in prayer.

“On Saturday night, his fever first appeared very strong. I begged him
not to go to the church in the morning; but to let a pious
brother,[638] who was with us, preach in the yard; but he told me, it
was the will of the Lord that he should go. When I met a little
company of our pious women, on Sunday morning, I begged they would
pray that he might be strengthened. In reading the prayers, he almost
fainted. I got through the crowd, with a friend, and entreated him to
come out of the desk, as did some others; but, in his sweet manner, he
let us know we were not to interrupt the order of God. I then retired
to my pew. All around me were in tears. When he was a little
refreshed, by the windows being opened and a nosegay thrown into the
desk by a friend, he proceeded with the service. Going into the
pulpit, he preached with a strength and recollection which surprised
us all. In his first prayer, he said, ‘Lord, Thou wilt manifest Thy
strength in weakness. We confer not with flesh and blood; but put our
trust under the shadow of Thy wings.’

“His text was, ‘O Lord, Thou preservest man and beast. How excellent
is Thy lovingkindness, O God! therefore the children of men put their
trust under the shadow of Thy wings.’ After sermon, he went up the
aisle to the communion-table, with these words, ‘I am going to throw
myself under the wings of the cherubim, before the mercy-seat.’ The
congregation was large, and the service lasted till nearly two
o’clock. Sometimes he could scarcely stand, and was often obliged to
stop for want of power to speak. The people were deeply affected.
Weeping was on every side. Notwithstanding his extreme weakness, he
gave out several verses of hymns, and uttered various lively sentences
of exhortation.

“As soon as the service was over, we hurried him away to bed, where he
immediately fainted. He then dropped into a sleep for some time; and,
when he awoke, he cried out, with a pleasant smile, ‘Now, my dear,
thou seest I am no worse for doing the Lord’s work. He never fails me
when I trust in Him.’ He dozed most of the evening, now and then
awaking full of the praises of God. At night, his fever returned, and
his strength decreased amazingly.

“On Monday and Tuesday, he lay on a couch in the study, was at times
very restless, but often slept. When awake, he was delighted in
hearing me read hymns, and tracts on faith and love. His words were
animating, and his patience beyond expression. I asked, ‘Hast thou any
conviction that the Lord is about to take thee?’ He answered, ‘No, not
in particular; only I always see death so near, that we both seem to
stand on the verge of eternity.’ Sometimes he would say, ‘O Polly!
shall I ever see the day when thou must be carried out to be buried? I
shrink at giving my dear Polly to the worms.’ Awaking on one occasion,
he said, ‘It was Israel’s fault that they asked _for signs_. We will
not do so; but, abandoning our whole selves into the hands of God, we
will there lie patiently, assured that He will do all things well.’

“On Wednesday, August 10, he told me, he had received such a
manifestation of the full meaning of the words, ‘_God is love_,’ as he
could not tell. ‘It _fills me_,’ he said, ‘it _fills me_ every moment.
O Polly! my dear Polly! _God is love!_ Shout! Shout aloud! Oh! it so
fills me, that I want a gust of praise to go to the ends of the earth.
But it seems as if I could not speak much longer. Let us fix upon a
sign between ourselves’ (tapping me twice with his finger). ‘By this I
mean _God is love, and we will draw each other into God. Observe! by
this we will draw each other into God._’ Sally coming in, he cried, ‘O
Sally! _God is love!_ Shout, both of you! I want to hear you shout His
praise!’ All this time, his medical attendant hoped he was in no
danger. He knew his disease to be the fever; but, as he had no bad
headache, slept much without the least delirium, and had an almost
regular pulse, the symptoms were thought to be favourable.

“On Thursday, August 11, his speech began to fail; but to his friendly
doctor he would not be silent while he had any power to speak, often
saying, ‘O Sir, you take much thought for my body; give me leave to
take thought for your soul.’ When I could scarcely understand anything
he said, I spoke the words, ‘_God is love!_’ Instantly he caught them,
and broke out in a rapture, ‘God is _love, love, love_! O for the gust
of praise I want to sound!’ Here his voice again failed. If I named
his sufferings, he would smile, and make the sign.

“On Friday, August 12, finding his body covered with spots, I so far
understood them as to feel a sword pierce through my soul. As I knelt
by his bed, with my hand in his, intreating the Lord to be with us in
this tremendous hour, he strove to say many things, but could not. At
length, pressing my hand, and often repeating the sign, he breathed
out, ‘Head of the Church, be head to my wife!’ Sally said to him, ‘My
dear master, do you know _me_?’ He replied, ‘Sally, God will put His
right hand under you.’ She added, ‘O my dear master, should you be
taken away, what a disconsolate creature will my poor mistress be!’ He
answered, ‘God will be her all in all.’ He had always delighted in the
lines—

“‘Jesu’s blood, through earth and skies,
Mercy, free, boundless mercy cries.’

“When I repeated them to him, he cried, ‘_Boundless, boundless!_’ and
added, though with great difficulty—

“‘Mercy’s _full_ power _I soon_ shall prove,
Lov’d with an everlasting love.’

“On the afternoon of Saturday, August 13, while a few Christian
friends were standing near his bed, he stretched out his hand to each
of them, and, to a minister, remarked, ‘Are you ready to assist
to-morrow?’ One asked, ‘Do you think the Lord will raise you up?’ He
strove to answer, ‘Raise in resur... raise in resur....’ To another,
who put the same question, he replied, ‘I leave it all to God.’ I
said, ‘My dear creature, I ask not for myself, but for the sake of
others. If Jesus is very present with thee, lift thy right hand.’ He
did so. I added, ‘If the prospect of glory opens before thee, repeat
the sign.’ He raised his hand again; and, in half a minute, a second
time. After this, his dear hands moved no more; but, on my asking,
‘Art thou in much pain?’ he answered, ‘No.’

“From this time, he entered into a kind of sleep, though with his eyes
open and fixed. Twenty-four hours, my dearly beloved breathed like a
person in common sleep; and then, at thirty-five minutes past ten on
Sunday night, August 14, his precious soul entered into the joy of his
Lord, in the fifty-sixth year of his age. I was scarce a minute at a
time from him, night or day, during his illness, and I can truly say—

“‘No cloud did arise, to darken the skies,
Or hide for one moment his Lord from his eyes.’

“And here I break off my mournful story. On my bleeding heart, his
fair picture of heavenly excellence will be for ever drawn. When I
call to mind his ardent zeal, his laborious endeavours to seek and
save the lost, his diligence in the employment of his time, his
Christlike condescension towards me, and his uninterrupted converse
with heaven, I may well be allowed to add, my loss is beyond the power
of words to paint.

“On August 17, his dear remains were deposited in Madeley churchyard;
amid the tears and lamentations of thousands, who flocked about the
bier of their dead pastor. Between the house and the church, they sung
these verses:—

“‘With heavenly weapons he hath fought
The battles of the Lord:
Finish’d his course, and kept the faith,
And gain’d the great reward.

“‘God hath laid up in heaven for him
A crown which cannot fade;
The righteous Judge, at that great day,
Shall place it on his head.’

“The service was performed by the Rev. Mr. Hatton, Rector of
Waters-Upton, whom the Lord moved, in a pathetic manner, to speak to
the weeping flock. At my request, he read the following paper:—[639]

“‘It was the desire of my beloved husband to be buried in this plain
manner, and, out of tenderness, he begged that I might not be present.
In all things I would obey him.

“‘Permit me, by the mouth of a friend, to bear my testimony, to the
glory of God, that I never knew anyone walk so closely with God as he
did. The Lord gave him a conscience tender as the apple of an eye. He
literally preferred the interest of every one to his own. He shared
_his all_ with the poor, who lay so close his heart, that, when his
speech was so gone that he could utter nothing without difficulty, he
cried out, “_O my Poor!_ What will become of my Poor?” He was blessed
with so great a degree of humility as is scarcely to be found. I am
witness, how often he has taken real pleasure in being treated with
contempt. It seemed the very food of his soul, to be little and
unknown. When he said to me, “Thou wilt write a line or two to my
brother in Switzerland, if I die,” I replied, “My dear, dear love, I
will write him all the Lord’s dealings with thee.” “No, no,” said he,
“write nothing about me. I only desire to be forgotten. _God is all._”

“‘His diligent visitation of the sick laid the foundation of the
spotted fever of which he died; and his vehement desire to take his
last leave of _you_, with dying lips and hands, gave (it is supposed)
the finishing stroke, by preparing his blood for putrefaction. Thus
did he live and die your servant.

“‘He walked with death always in sight. About two months ago, he came
to me and said, “My dear love, I know not how it is, but I have a
strange impression death is very near us, as if it would be a sudden
stroke upon one of us; and it draws out my soul in prayer that we may
be ready.” He then broke out, “Lord, prepare the soul Thou wilt call;
and, O stand by the poor disconsolate one who shall be left behind!”

“‘Three years, nine months, and two days, I have possessed my
_heavenly-minded husband_; but now the sun of my earthly joy is _set
for ever_.’”

Footnote 637:

No doubt to attend Wesley’s Conference, which began on July 26.

Footnote 638:

No doubt, one of Wesley’s preachers.

Footnote 639:

Mr. Hatton also preached a funeral sermon, founded on Hebrews xiii. 7.

This is a very artless story; but it is not less valuable because of that. Mrs. Fletcher sent a copy to Charles Wesley, together with the following note:—

“MADELEY, _August 24, 1785_.

“DEAR SIR,—Enclosed you have an account of my feelings when I thought
myself dying, as did most about me. I prayed for strength to do
justice to my dearest, dearest love. I wrote it in one day, but could
not go over it a second time. Take it, then, as it flowed from my full
heart, without a second thought, and pray for your deeply distressed
friend. I cannot find your brother. I wrote to him at first, but have
got no answer.”[640]

Footnote 640:

Jackson’s “Life of C. Wesley,” vol. ii., p. 432.

Wesley, in his eighty-third year, was in the west of England, travelling and preaching with surprising energy. On the day of Fletcher’s death, he preached twice at Salisbury; then hastened to Shaftesbury, Castle-Carey, Shepton-Mallet, Taunton, Collumpton, Exeter, and Plymouth; then went right through Cornwall; and, on September 3, got to Bristol, in the neighbourhood of which city he spent a month. On October 3, he came to London; then made what he calls “a little excursion” into Hertfordshire, another into Oxfordshire, and a third into Norfolk. Here, at Norwich, on October 24, he found time to write a sermon on the death of Fletcher, which he delivered in London on November 6. The sermon was published immediately, with the following address “To the reader” prefixed[641]:—

“A consciousness of my own inability to describe, in a manner worthy
of the subject, such a person as Mr. Fletcher, was one great reason of
my not writing this sooner. I judged, only an _Apelles_ was proper to
paint an _Alexander_. But I, at length, submitted to importunity, and
hastily put together some memorials of this great man: intending, if
God permit, when I have more leisure and more materials, to write a
fuller account of his life.

“JOHN WESLEY.

“London, _November 9, 1785_.”

Footnote 641:

The title was, “A Sermon preached on the Occasion of the Death of the
Rev. Mr. John Fletcher, Vicar of Madeley, Shropshire. By John Wesley,
A.M.” 12mo. 32 pp.

The concluding paragraph of Wesley’s sermon must be quoted:—

“For many years, I despaired of finding any inhabitant of Great
Britain that could stand in any degree of comparison with Gregory
Lopez, or Monsieur de Renty. But let any impartial person judge, if
Mr. Fletcher was at all inferior to them? Did he not experience as
deep communion with God, and as high a measure of inward holiness, as
was experienced either by one or the other of those burning and
shining lights? And it is certain his outward holiness shone before
men, with full as bright a lustre as theirs. But if any should attempt
to draw a parallel between them, there are two circumstances that
deserve consideration. One is, we are not assured that the writers of
_their_ Lives did not extenuate, if not suppress, what was amiss in
them. And some things amiss we are assured there were, namely, many
touches of superstition, and some of idolatry, in worshipping Saints,
the Virgin Mary in particular. But I have not suppressed or extenuated
anything in Mr. Fletcher’s character. For indeed I knew nothing that
was amiss, nothing that needed to be extenuated, much less suppressed.
A second circumstance is, that the Writers of _their_ Lives could not
have so full a knowledge of them, as both Mrs. Fletcher and I had of
Mr. Fletcher, being both eye and ear-witnesses of his whole conduct.
Consequently, we know that his life was not sullied with any mixture
of either idolatry or superstition. I was intimately acquainted with
him for above thirty years. I conversed with him morning, noon, and
night, without the least reserve, during a journey of many hundred
miles. And, in all that time, I never heard him speak one improper
word, nor saw him do an improper action.—To conclude. Many exemplary
men have I known, holy in heart and life, within fourscore years. But
one equal to him I have not known: one so inwardly and outwardly
devoted to God. So unblameable a character in every respect, I have
not found either in Europe or America. And I scarce expect to find
another such, on this side eternity.”

Human praise could not be higher than this; and yet even the _Monthly Review_, which had so often and so unjustly denounced the Methodists, in its notice of Wesley’s sermon, remarked:—

“Mr. Fletcher was one of the most considerable among the Methodist
ministers of the Wesleyan division. We have long been acquainted with
his good character; and we firmly believe that the high encomiums here
passed on him were justly merited in their fullest extent.”[642]

Footnote 642:

_Monthly Review_, 1786, p. 79.

Scores of other eulogies have been written, but only four shall be added here, and these by persons who were well acquainted with the man of whom they speak.

The Rev. Joshua Gilpin’s elaborate biographical “Notes,” interspersed in Fletcher’s “Portrait of St. Paul,” are too numerous and lengthened to be introduced, but an extract from the last of them (the twenty-ninth) must be given:—

“On the day of Mr. Fletcher’s departure, as I was preparing to attend
my own church, which was at the distance of nine miles from Madeley, I
received a message from Mrs. Fletcher, requesting my immediate
attendance at the vicarage. I instantly followed the messenger, and
found Mr. Fletcher with every symptom of approaching dissolution upon
him. I had ever looked up to this man of God with an extraordinary
degree of affection and reverence; and, on this afflicting occasion,
my heart was uncommonly affected and depressed. It was now in vain to
recollect that public duty required my presence in another place.
Unfitted for every duty, except that of silently watching the bed of
death, I found it impossible to withdraw from the solemn scene. I had
received from this evangelical teacher, in days that were past, many
excellent precepts with respect to _holy living_; and now I desired to
receive from him the last important lesson with respect to _holy
dying_. And truly this concluding lesson was of inestimable worth,
since so much patience and resignation, so much peace and composure,
were scarcely ever discovered in the same circumstances before.

“While their pastor was breathing out his soul into the hands of a
faithful Creator, his people were offering up their joint
supplications on his behalf in the house of God. Little, however, was
seen among them but affliction and tears.[643] The whole village wore
an air of consternation and sadness, and not one joyful song was heard
among its inhabitants. Hasty messengers were passing to and fro with
anxious enquiries and confused reports; and the members of every
family sat together in silence that day, awaiting, with trembling
expectation, the issue of every hour. After the conclusion of the
evening service, several of the poor, who came from distant parts, and
who were usually entertained under Mr. Fletcher’s roof, still lingered
about the house, and seemed unable to tear themselves away from the
place without a sight of their expiring pastor. Secretly informed of
their desire, I obtained them the permission they wished; and the door
of the chamber being set open, immediately before which Mr. Fletcher
was sitting upright in his bed, with the curtains undrawn, they slowly
moved, one by one, along the gallery, severally pausing as they passed
by the door, and casting in a look of mingled supplication and
anguish. It was, indeed, an affecting sight.

“And now the hour speedily approached that was to put a solemn
termination to our hopes and fears. His weakness very perceptibly
increased, but his countenance continued unaltered to the last. Mrs.
Fletcher was kneeling by the side other departing husband, the medical
attendant sat at his head, while I sorrowfully waited near his feet.
Uncertain whether or not he was totally separated from us, we pressed
nearer; but his warfare was accomplished, and the happy spirit had
taken its everlasting flight.”

Footnote 643:

Another writer, who was present, relates that the congregation sang,
or tried to sing, the affecting hymn which was composed and used at
the time of Fletcher’s dangerous illness in 1776 (see pp. 362 and
368). He further says, “I never was witness to a scene so impressive
and pathetic. Every breast felt, every countenance expressed, one
common sentiment. Tears, sobs, and suppressed groans showed how
sincerely the people esteemed their venerable pastor. When the hymn
was sung, there was a general burst of sorrow. Even those who had
spurned his instructions, deprecated his death as a public loss, and
expressed their grief with uncommon agitation.” (_Methodist Magazine_,
1802, p. 572.)