History of Madeley / including Ironbridge, Coalbrookdale, and Coalport

by John Randall

The Church, and the Moral and Religious Aspects of the People of Madeley.

We have previously given the names of some of the early rectors of the church, when the whole mind of the people here, as elsewhere, by education, if not conviction, was Roman Catholic. There was undoubtedly a pleasant kind of poetry about the older system of religion, which no man, from the peasant to the peer, thought of questioning, but which, from the cradle to the grave, governed and regulated, as far as its influences went, the thoughts and actions of all men. They were the high days of ecclesiastical power, when the Church could smite with excommunication and civil disability obnoxious families or individuals, and when monarchs could be cut off from the allegiance of their subjects, and made to appear as lepers among their brethren.

We know little of the moral or social condition of the inhabitants, or how far they were influenced by the rude discipline to which they were subject. Delusion, we know, by the traces it has left, then and for a long time after among the uneducated classes, formed the basis often of belief. It was a time when man, equally deceived by the imperfections of his senses and the illusions of self-love, long considered himself to be the centre of the movements of the stars, and his vanity was punished by the terrors to which they gave rise. It may not have had a corrupting tendency, and may even have been a beneficial fallacy, for it must have tended much to the accomplishment of any undertaking to believe that it was within the range of possibility. We can now view the planets as they circle, without supposing that they are impelled by intelligences who exercise either a benign or a hostile influence over our action. Ages of labour have removed the veil which concealed the true nature of the planets, and man now finds himself on the surface of one which he has reason to suppose is so small as to be scarcely perceptible in that great solar system which formerly appeared so mysterious. Then it was not so: astrologers and conjurors were looked up to as wielding even more terrific powers than the priest, and horoscopes, nativities, and the most ordinary events were traced to influences of the planets. Dust and cobwebs now cover the tombs of the authors of works on astrology; the staff on which they leaned is broken; their brazen instruments are green and cankered.

In an old book on this subject, disinterred among certain other contents of an old chest in the vestry of the church, entitled “Astrological Predictions for 1652,” we find, as was not unusual, awful prognostications concerning Church and State, and threatenings of troubles, violent distempers, and great slaughters. There appears to have been a court of astrologers, for we find a notice in a foot-note of “a learned sermon composed for the Society of Astrologers.” Predictions and assertions of interference with men’s actions and the most ordinary course of events not being read to advantage except in the language of their authors, we purpose giving an extract or two. Like relics, which seem to lose their venerable sanctity when removed from an old tomb to a museum, extracts in modern type lose the charm the well-thumbed old yellow work has as it is lifted from the old church chest, mellow and mouldy. It appears from the numerous notes and memorandums on the blank leaves to have been used by the clergyman as a sort of pocket-book, and some of the notes appear to be intended attestations of the predictions so earnestly given. Here are some of the predictions bearing chiefly upon passing events of the times, or such as were likely to arise:—

“England is subject to that Sign of the Zodiac, viz. Aries, wherein Mars at present is placed, & therefore we English, & in Engla. must expect some, or many of those misfortuns which he generally signifieth, and which even now we repeated: but the same sign pointeth out also many Cities & places in the upper Germany, so also in Austria and its Territories, the Eastern and Southeast parts of France and the Cities and Townes therein scituated, also the North East or more Easterly parts of Denmark, that or those parts of the Polonian Countries or Provinces which are bordering or adjacent unto the unruly Cossacks, and those Cities and Towns in the upper Silesia, which lye neer unto the Borders or Confines of the Turks Dominions, the Dukedom of Burgundy; the Swedish Nation and Souldiery are also more or lesse, and many of their Towns subject unto the Sign Aries, and therefore in all or most of these Countries by us nominated, there will be some violent distempers in the people, some slaughter of men, and casually by one accident or other much damage in many of their principal Cities or Sea-towns by Fire, War, inroads of Pyrates or souldiers, &c.”

“When Venus shall be Lady of the yeare and unfortunate, as now she is in the seventh house; Women will more than ordinary scold with their Husbands, and run twatling and scolding out of their houses: many Men will depart, or run, separate or divorce themselves from their Wives. This unnaturall Deportment of Women unto their Husbands and Men unto their Wives, is increased by the nearnesse of Venus unto Mars, and his positure in the seventh House, which signifieth Women, their loves and affections either unto their Husbands or others. In that House he is ‘Damnofus & malus, quia significat inimicitias & discordias magnas, & accident hominibus furta interfectiones & contentiones multæ & rixæ in illo anno maximeq in gent illius Climatis.’ Mars is very unfortunately placed in the seventh house, signifying there will be many controversies, Law-suits, Duels, much enmity, many Thefts by Sea & Land, much robbing of Houses; and these shall most apparantly manifest themselves in the Country, City or Towne subject unto the sign he is in, of which we have formerly treated.”

The eclipse of the sun, 29th March, 1652, 9-56 a.m., is announced with hieroglyphic figures, followed by these remarks:—

“We intended to write a particular Treatise concerning the effects of this Eclips, which is the greatest this Age hath beheld, and in that Booke to have delivered unto Posterity a Method whereby they might have judged what manner of Effects should have been signified by any Defect of either of the two Luminaries; but our time at this present being otherwise taken up, we are confined to a narrow scantling of Paper: we hope some well-wishers unto Astrology will perfect what we intended on that Subject, being desirous to see the Labours of other Men abroad, the whole burthen hereof being too heavy for one Anglicus.”

The idlest tales were believed and credited as facts, and men more cunning than the common herd thrived by magical and cabalistic spells they were supposed to cast upon evil spirits. The clergy dealt in exorcisms, and in surplice and stole performed the rites of the Church. They condemned witchcraft, however, as heresy; and as early as the reign of Henry VIII. a statute was passed which enacted that any person, after the day therein named, devising, practising, or exercising “any invocations, or conjurations of spirits, witchcrafts, enchantments, or sorceries, to the intent to get or find money or treasure, or to waste, consume, or destroy any person in his body, members, or goods, or to provoke any person to unlawful love, or for any other unlawful intent or purpose, or by occasion or colour of such things or any of them, or for despite of Christ, or lucre of money, dig up or pull down any cross, or crosses, or by such invocations or conjurations of spirits, witchcrafts, enchantments, or sorcery, or any of them, take upon them to tell or declare where goods stolen or lost shall be come—that then all and every person or persons offending as before is mentioned, shall be deemed, accepted, and adjudged a felon or felons, without benefit of clergy.” This act was carefully worded, inasmuch as it only extends to witchcraft or enchantment practised with a criminal or unlawful intent.

Men with very much less learning than the author quoted, lived by their wits, from their supposed knowledge of the stars, and from being able, as they professed, to consult the planets and to restore lost property. Men, and women too, would take long journeys to consult one who could “read the stars,” or “rule the planets.” From a conversation recorded by a close observer of men and manners in the beginning of the present century, for instance, we learn that one of these wise men who lived as far off as Oswestry was occasionally consulted by the inhabitants here. Of course it was easy with a little tact for the wife to worm out the main facts in one room whilst the husband listened and gathered them up for use in another. Tom Bowlegs having missed a five-pound note from his cupboard holds the following conversation with a friend, who tells him he cannot help thinking that the note has been mislaid, not stolen, and says:—

“The five-pound peaper is not stolen but lost, and thee’lt be sartin to find it.

No sich thing Yedart, replies Bowlegs; for I went to the wise-mons and he tow’d me all about it.

The wise-mon! what wise-mon?

Dick Spot that lives slip side Hodgistry the yed of aw the conjurors in Shropshire.

Aye, and what did he tell thee?

Well, thee shalt hear:

As a five-pound paper was a jell for a poor mon to lose, I determined to know all about it, so off I set for Dick Spot’s house. After knocking at the door it was opened by an owd woman, as ugly as the divil himself, with a face as black as the easter. At first seet I thought I was tean to, and was for bowting; but wishing to know all about the paper, I mustered aw my courage, and went in. Pray, said I, is the Wise-mon a-whoam. No, said she, but he will directly; sit down; I suppose you have lost something, and wants to know where it is. Yes, said I, you bin reet. What is it that you have lost? So I up and tow’d her, aw abowt it. Just as I had finished, in comes the wise-mon; and he (to my great surprise) said—follow me into this room; while I was scraping wi mi foot, dewking mi yed, and stroking my yarr down, amounting altogether to a nation fine beawe, he said—I was consulting the planets this morning and found that a £5 Shiffnal bank note had been stolen from under a sugar bason in your cupboard on Wednesday morning last, between the hours of nine and ten o’clock, by a tall mon, with a long visage marked by the small pox, gray eyes, and black beard. (Wonderful! said I, that is the very mon I suspect!) You will therefore, on your return home, make it known in his neighbourhood that if the bill is not returned in one week from this day, that he will lose one of his legs in a few weeks after. If this comes to his ears I have no doubt the bill will be returned immediately, but if he does not, he shall be marked as I have told you, and in that case the bill will be irrecoverable. I knew by the planets that you would be here at 12 o’clock to-day, and having overstaid my time at Hodgistry (here he wiped the sweat from his face). I ran all the way to be in time to meet you.”

The devil, or “divil,” seems to have been an important personage, often making bargains, in which he not unfrequently got worsted. There were too familiar imps or demons, according to John Heywood’s homely rhymes,—

“Such as we
Pugs and Hobgoblins call; their dwellings be
In corners of old houses least frequented,
Or beneath stacks of wood; and these convented
Make fearful noise in butteries and in dairies,
Robin Goodfellows some, some call them fairies.
In solitarie rooms these uproars keep,
And beat at doors to wake men from their sleep,
Seeming to force locks be they ne’re so strong
And keeping Christmasse gambols all night long.”

That merry wanderer, Puck, even as late as the present century, was common to our fields, where he seems to have had a partiality for simple countrymen, market-fresh, whom he led many a weary dance in fields out of which they could not find their way. He was occasionally domiciled in the kitchen, and was useful in sweeping up the hearth while housewives snored in bed. Farmhouses were favourite residences; but woe to the dairymaid who happened to offend them! Her milk was sure to turn sour. They haunted mines sometimes, and used the pick to help forward the midnight task, or became malignant and caused inundations of water, or let loose noxious vapours to destroy both mine and miners. On one occasion a miner named Bagley, who preferred being let down when all the rest had ascended the shaft, in order to have the assistance of an imp, was watched by another, who concealed himself for the purpose. But the imp, who was working whilst the man rested, discovered him and called upon his friend to bump him against the timber for his intrusion. On being caught a second time, the imp raised an alarm—“He peeps again, Bagley; bump him!” showing that the sprite or whatever he was could speak English. As a supposed proof of the truth of this, Bagley was called “Bump him, Bagley!” to his dying day.

An old inhabitant of Madeley who believed thoroughly in such things told us that he once looked through a hole into an old building on a moonlight night, and saw a score of spirits of this kind dancing right merrily! He also assured us that an old woman, whose name he gave us, but which we do not remember, was accounted a witch, and had the power to change herself into a hare; and that on one occasion she was hunted by the hounds, who ran her to her cottage, on the Brockton road, where she took the chimney, and was found sitting by the fire, her hands and feet bleeding from the run. [121]

If the clergy of those days believed in evil eyes, witchcraft, and ghosts, it was to be expected that the people would do so, too. They stood alone on a mental as on a religious eminence. The knell of ecclesiastical authority had not then been rung; civil incapacity and inferiority was the tacit proscription of all outside the pale of the Church; and what we glean of morals and manners under the rigid system of godly discipline then prevailing is not much in its favour.

Madeley, towards the latter end of the past and beginning of the present century was favoured above many neighbouring parishes in its clergy. It had men who led tranquil, holy lives, and some who proclaimed the conscience of the individual to be the only judge in matters of the soul,—men who were, it is true, ill-rewarded for their pains, but who lived beneficent lives, and rendered disinterested service.

Such were John William de la Fletcher and Melville Horne, the latter of whom went out as a missionary, and established the colony of Sierra Leone; and others who succeeded them. Let us speak first, however, of the former.

Rev. John W. Fletcher, Vicar of Madeley.

No sketch of Madeley would be complete which did not include a copious notice of Mr. Fletcher. So many “Lives” of Mr. Fletcher have, however been written, and are so readily attainable, that we need not enter into those details appertaining to his parentage, birth, youth, education, etc., which belong properly to the biographer who writes a book; and we shall content ourselves therefore with a summary of such matters, in order the more fully to bring out those traits of character which distinguished him whilst vicar of this parish.

Jean Guilhaume de la Flechere, to give his proper Swiss name, was born at Nyon, fifteen miles from Geneva, in the year 1729. He received his education first in his native town, and then at Geneva, at which latter place he distinguished himself by his abilities, his thirst for knowledge, and intense application to study. His biographers relate boyish incidents and hairbreadth escapes, communicated by himself. His father before marriage was an officer in the French army, and afterwards in that of his own country, and young Fletcher on arriving at maturity resolved to enter the army too, but in consequence of some disappointments he came to London to learn the English language, and having done so he obtained a situation as tutor in the family of Mr. Hill, M.P. for Shrewsbury, who resided at Tern Hall, near Atcham. He was ordained 1757, and occasionally preached at Atcham, Wroxeter, and the Abbey church at Shrewsbury, and at St. Alkmunds.

Two years after he was ordained, he was in the habit of occasionally coming to preach at Madeley, and the year following, through the influence of Mr. Hill, he was appointed vicar, having chosen it in preference to a smaller parish with a larger income. Mr. Chambray, the then vicar, gladly accepting the living Mr. Fletcher declined, thereby making way for him. One of Mr. Fletcher’s pupils died, the other became M P. for Shrewsbury; afterwards he represented the county, and finally was made a peer, under the title of Baron Berwick of Attingham, the name the house now bears. He appears to have received his appointment to Madeley in March, 1759.

The Rev. Robert Cox, M.A., one of Mr. Fletcher’s biographers, says:—

“Previous to Mr. Fletcher’s presentation to the living, its inhabitants, with some honourable exceptions, were notorious for their ignorance and impiety. They openly profaned the sabbath, treated the most holy things with contempt, disregarded the restraints of decency, and ridiculed the very name of religion. It is to the reproach of England that such a description is but too frequently applicable to places where mines and manufactories have collected together a crowded population.”

A desire to be extensively useful soon induced Mr. Fletcher to undertake extra-parochial duties, but in every way, indignities were offered by those on whom by contrast his piety, temperance, humility, and example more strongly reflected. The clergy went into titters and cried “Enthusiast!” The half-gentry chalked up “Schismatic!” and the magistrates sought to set the world on a grin by ticketing him a “Jesuit!” Need we be surprised to hear that Mr. Fletcher was seized, as he tells us, with the spirit of Jonah—and tempted to quit his charge! It was a passing temptation, yet such was his tenderness of conscience that the shadow of a doubt—intruded rather than entertained—disquieted him.

About this time he had some doubts respecting a passage in the service for the baptism of infants, and also in that for the burial of the dead. He received much comfort however from his correspondence and interviews with John and Charles Wesley, whose preachers he welcomed into his parish.

In a letter dated May, 1767, we find him inviting Whitfield to his parish for the same purpose. In this letter, May 18th, 1767, he speaks of Capt. Scott having preached from his horse-block, which seems to mark the first introduction of Wesleyan Methodism into Madeley. The Roman Catholics too, gave him trouble, by opening a mission in Madeley, and drawing over to them two of his converts. This appears to have been in March 1769, for in a letter to his friend Mr. Ireland dated the 26th, he says:—

“The (Popish) Priest at Madeley is going to open his Mass-house, and I have declared war on that account last Sunday, and propose to strip the Whore of Babylon, and expose her nakedness to-morrow. All the Papists are in a great ferment, and they have held meetings to consult on the occasion.”

An odour now hangs and will hang about the name of Fletcher, and turning to his example for encouragement, amid the more sterile tracts of labour, the weary and desponding will get refreshed. As mountains pierce the clouds and bring down rains upon the parched and shrivelled plains, so men now and then tower high above their fellows, and privileged with a greater significance, sunned and bathed in a purer light, they become a medium of it to others. It was so with Fletcher. In his presence men of coarser mould and ruder habits, as well as those distinguished for their attainments, felt the force and purity of his life. It has taken the Church of which he was so distinguished a member nearly a whole century to come up to plans by which he extended the sphere of his usefulness: we mean those outdoor meetings, cottage-lectures, Scripture readings, catechisings, and similar means whereby in every corner of the parish he contrived to stir men up and to create among them a concern for their higher interests. These are his words:—

“Soon after coming to Madeley, I have frequently had a desire to exhort in Madeley Wood and Coalbrookdale, two villages of my parish, but I have not dared to run before I saw an open door. It now, I think, begins to open, as two small societies of twenty persons have formed themselves in those places.”

But for a large soul like Mr. Fletcher’s the parish even is too limited, and we find accordingly that he gathered a small society sixteen miles off, riding that distance in order to preach at five o’clock in the morning two or three times a-week. Of course a man could not do this without treading on someone’s toes. It was the way to get opposition, and he got it. The churchwardens, clergy, archdeacon, bishop, and magistrates were dead against him. Magistrates threatened him and the whole of his flock with imprisonment; and the bishop preached against him before his brethren at the general visitation. He writes to Charles Wesley—“A young clergyman who lives at Madeley Wood, where he has great influence, has openly declared war against me by pasting on the church-door a paper, in which he charges me with rebellion, schism, and being a disturber of the public peace. He puts himself at the head of the gentlemen of the parish (as they term themselves), and supported by the recorder of Wenlock he is determined to put in force the Conventicle Act against me. A few weeks ago the widow who lives in the Rock Church and a young man who read and prayed in my absence were taken up.” He tells us he appeared at Wenlock and bearded the justices, who denounced him as a Jesuit!

Times have changed, and what was deemed in Mr Fletcher an indiscretion and even a crime, is now universally applauded. If persecution to Mr. Fletcher arose from those who by influence and position should have seconded his plans, we need scarcely feel surprised to find that, setting himself against the commoner and coarser vices of the times, he was opposed by those who thrived thereby. In a letter to Mr. Charles Wesley he says—“You cannot well imagine how much the animosity of my parishioners is heightened, and with what boldness it discovers itself against me, because I preach against drunkenness, shows, and bull-baiting. The publicans and the maltmen will not forgive me: they think that to preach against drunkenness and to cut their purse is the same thing.”

It is difficult to imagine a man of education, taste, and refined feeling in the midst of elements more discordant, or so totally out of character with what he had been used to. Unvisited by those influences that from a thousand sources now combine to smooth the path of the country clergy, mining districts, like others where the physical energies of the body are developed to the utmost stretch by the nature of the employment, presented the greatest obstacles to progress; the most dogged indifference to efforts made for their advancement; and, where attempts were made to put a check upon the brutal amusements of the population, they offered the most determined resistance. At out-door or in-door services, in such semi-civilized portions of the parish, the sound of prayer, both on Sundays and week-evenings, would ascend mingled with the yells and cries and curses of drunken colliers, the barking of dogs, the roar of a bull, or some indulgence of the kind with which publicans seasoned their attractions. The Green, at Madeley Wood, was a favourite spot for such games, and narrowly upon one occasion did this zealous and pious man escape being pulled from his horse and made the victim of a party of infuriated colliers, who made the bargain to “bait the parson.”

Mr. Fletcher, with a view of further promoting his mission of usefulness in 1767 visited Yorkshire, Bristol, Bath, and Wales, and subsequently his native country, Rome, &c. He returned to England in 1770; and some time after undertook the charge of a college founded by the Countess of Huntingdon, at Trevecca, in South Wales, but resigned the appointment, in consequence of his repugnance to Calvinistic views. This brought out Mr. Fletcher as a controversialist, with Toplady and others. At the breaking out of the American War Mr. Fletcher took up his pen in defence of the Government, and the right divine of kings, contending that “if once legislation was affirmed to belong to the people, as such, all government would be overturned,” and that such a scheme ought to be totally extirpated; doctrines which so pleased the King that the Lord Chancellor was commissioned to offer him preferment, which he declined.

Poor human nature at best goes on crutches; and one infirmity he had to struggle with when young, Mr. Benson tells us, “was temper. He was a man of strong passions, and prone to anger in particular, insomuch that he has frequently thrown himself on the floor, and laid there most of the night, bathed in tears, imploring victory over his spirit.” He obtained it, and by the means employed—by earnest wrestling, by prayer articulate at times—voiceless, waiting prayer at others. Holiness to be realised in man—holiness incarnate on earth, eternal in the heavens—and the annihilation of all that would bar it out from the soul was his motto. But the man that would tremble before the suspicion of a fault, on the other hand, could beard a gamester armed, and pour an avalanche of indignation upon his head—aye, while the infuriated duellist held a pistol to his breast. There was a combination of earnestness, sincerity, and, withal, humiliation, about the man that won its way and fused all before it. There was a primitive simplicity and singleness of purpose, an enthusiasm unmixed with bitterness, and that heavenly temper about Mr. Fletcher which reminds one of the sublimated virtues and graces of the early Christians. Like the old fathers, he accommodated himself to his hearers, suiting his exhortations to their modes of thought, and seizing opportunities for imparting instruction and advice, so as to secure for both the most favourable reception. His parishioners soon began not only to perceive but to appreciate these excellent features of his character. Unmoved by storm and tumult, actuated by the purest motives, with a grace and sweetness that shone through every look and gave value to every action, his visits, wherever he went, brought with them influences like the reviving breath of spring. If he overtook on the road a poor woman, wearied with a load, he assisted her to carry it, meanwhile taking care to exhort her to relieve herself of that more intolerable one of sin. If he saw a man fetch down a bird with his gun, he complimented him upon his aim and called his attention to the mark for the prize of his high calling—thus tempering and interweaving with things and pursuits of this life those relating to that which is to come. A very atmosphere of good surrounded him, from whence distilled heavenly and refreshing dew. To meet the objections of his parishioners to early Sunday morning meetings, on the ground of their being unable to rise so early, he was accustomed to go round the village himself, tinkling a bell; “thus, though free from all men,” as the Apostle said to the Corinthians, he made himself the servant of all, giving himself up to the work as practically and devotedly as though each particular department had been his special duty. If a poor man was ill and lacked attendance he sat by the sickbed and tended him; if he needed clothes to keep him warm he stripped himself; if he needed money he gave it; and even the furniture in his house was at the service of the poorest. He was not only a servant, but a “servant of servants,” therefore, unto his brethren; and upon the well-recognised principle of true greatness laid down by his divine Master—“Whomsoever would be chief amongst you, let him be your servant”—he obtained that reverence and regard with which, even now, his name is spoken of both in the cottages of the poor and houses of the rich.

There was in Mr. Fletcher a combination of distinguished virtues seldom found in one man, and those so marked and developed that each by itself would have been sufficient to confer distinction upon any individual possessing it in an equal degree. Of his ministrations in the pulpit of the old church none now left can speak. By the children, however, of those who have listened to him we have often heard it said—“Never were hearers more riveted and enrapt by lips of a fellow-mortal.” Every topic received at his hand a fresh bloom—a brilliancy, a fascination, a fragrance that entranced. Christ the Saviour, Christ in the garden, and upon the cross; now at the right hand of the Father, and again coming in great glory to judge the world; man regenerated; the benediction and the curse; the two hemispheres of the one truth needful for man to know, were themes upon which he began, continued, and ended.

The “Rock Church,” previously spoken of, at Madeley Wood, was a cottage built on a spur of one of the sandstones of the lower coal measures, and it still stands, overlooking the valley of the Severn. Mr. Fletcher exerted himself, however, to erect a place of better accommodation in 1776, and succeeded in building what now forms part of the old Wesleyan chapel, a short distance from the Rock Church; and we find him devoting £25, being a balance of £105 received as the annual income from his estate in Switzerland, to its completion: the remainder previously appears to have been devoted to other charitable purposes. He was unable then, however, to clear off the whole, for in the following year he wrote to Thomas York and Daniel Edmunds, who assisted him in the secular concerns of the vicarage, saying:—

“I have attempted to build a house in Madeley-Wood, about the centre of the parish, where I should be glad if the children might be taught to read and write in the day, and the grown-up people might hear the word of God in the evening, when they can get an Evangelist to preach it to them; and where the serious people might assemble for social worship, when they have no teacher.

“This has involved me in some difficulties about discharging the expense of that building, and paying for the ground it stands upon; especially, as my ill health has put me on the additional expense of an assistant. If I had strength, I would serve my church alone, board as cheap as I could, and save what I could from the produce of the living to clear the debt, and leave that little token of my love, free from encumbrances, to my parishioners. But as Providence orders things otherwise, I have another object which is, to secure a faithful Minister to serve the church while I live. Providence has sent me dear Mr. Greaves, who loves the people, and is loved by them. I should be glad to make him comfortable; but as all the care of the flock, by my illness, devolves upon him, I would not hesitate for a moment to let him have all the profit of the living, if it were not for the debt contracted about the room. My difficulty lies, then, between what I owe to my fellow-labourer, and what I owe to my parishioners, whom I should be sorry to have burdened with a debt contracted for the room.

“I beg you will let me know how the balance of my account stands, that, some way or other, I may order it to be paid immediately: for if the balance is against me, I could not leave England comfortably without having settled the payment. A letter will settle this business, as well as if twenty friends were at the trouble of taking a journey; and talking is far worse for me than reading or writing. I do not say this to put a slight upon my dear friends. I should rejoice to see them, if it would answer any end.

“Ten thousand pardons of my dear friends, for troubling them with this scrawl about worldly matters. May God help us all, so to settle all our eternal concerns, that when we shall be called to go to our long home and heavenly country, we may be ready, and have our acquittance along with us. I am quite tired with writing; nevertheless, I cannot lay by my pen, without desiring my best Christian love to all my dear companions in tribulation, and neighbours in Shropshire.”

Mr. Fletcher was now, as will be seen, in ill-health, and being ordered by his physician to a warmer climate, he wrote before leaving Bristol, another and longer pastoral letter to his Madeley parishioners. In 1778 we find him writing other letters from Nyon, in Switzerland, detailing information he had collected in passing through France, concerning the deaths of Voltaire and Rousseau, and inclosing notes to be read to societies at Madeley, Dawley, The Bank, &c.

The building at Madeley Wood cost more than he expected, and we find him saying:—

“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.

Under the fostering care of Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher Methodism, planted on ground watered by them, found a congenial soil, on which it has flourished to the present day. As early as May, 1767, as we find from a letter to the Rev. George Whitfield, dated Madeley, Mr. Fletcher had invited Captain Scott, then a great preacher among the Wesleyans, to preach to his congregation, and that he had done so from his horse-block, for Mr. Fletcher adds, that his sermon did more good than a hundred preached by himself from his own pulpit. In this letter we find him inviting Whitfield to follow the Captain’s example, and to come down and preach too. Others succeeded, whose ministrations, aided by the meetings of Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher, meetings which were attended by the piously disposed from the Broseley side of the Severn, from Wellington and neighbouring parishes, raised up a pious and efficient body of men who became prayer leaders, class leaders, local preachers, and centres of societies which spread far and wide. Fortunately, that good man Melville Horne, who succeeded Mr. Fletcher, and who after labouring in Madeley for some years went out to Africa and founded the Mission of Sierra Leone, on being appointed curate after the death of Mr. Fletcher favoured this state of things, which continued for some years, with the sanction of the vicar. Mrs. Fletcher in her Journal, August 3, 1815, says, “I have been joined to the people united to Mr. Wesley for threescore years, and I trust to die amongst them. The life of true religion is amongst them, and the work increases.” At the same time she says, “I have always considered myself a member of the church, and so have the united friends in Madeley.” When Mr. Horne left to go out as a missionary to Africa, the vicar, Mr. Burton, desirous of promoting the same kind of harmony, left it to Mrs. Fletcher to recommend a successor. Writing to the one who succeeded Mr. Horne, she says:—“Those who are religious in the parish, as well as those who attend from a distance, go to hear the Wesleyan ministers, and also attended the Church Services.”