Fletcher's difficulties during these earlier years at Madeley were, indeed, very numerous. In his letters he passes lightly over the violence of the more ignorant and brutal of his flock. Though from time to time dangerous enough, it did not daunt or distress him so much as some other kinds of opposition. While fearlessly reproving their vices, he was full of tenderness and pity for the poor sinful wretches who cursed and insulted him to his face. He sought them separately, literally pursuing those who tried to hide themselves from him, and entreated them to turn from their sins. He would break in upon their assemblies, where drunkenness and obscenity had scarcely any limits, and reprove them with an earnestness that touched the consciences of some, while it roused others to resentment and revenge. On one occasion at least he had a narrow escape for his life. One Sunday evening when he was expected at Madeley Wood, a number of colliers, who were baiting a bull, maddened with drink and excitement, agreed to bait the parson. Some of them undertook to pull him off his horse as soon as he appeared, while the rest were to set the dogs upon him. But the providence of God prevented this crime, and protected the faithful minister. Just as he was about to set out for Madeley Wood he was unexpectedly sent for to bury a child, and so was detained until it was too late to go to the Wood; and the drunken colliers, who were cursing their ill luck, had nothing for it but to return to the public-house and solace themselves after their manner.
From among the very worst of these despisers of his ministry some, however, were converted to God, and became his joy and consolation.
On a certain Sunday, after reading prayers at Madeley, he says that his mind became so confused that he could not recollect his text or any part of his sermon. Under these circumstances he began to explain and apply the first lesson, which was the third chapter of the Book of Daniel, containing the account of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego being cast into the fiery furnace. The remainder of the story may be told in Fletcher's own words. "I found in doing this such extraordinary assistance from God, and such a peculiar enlargement of 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 the following account:
"'I have been for some time much concerned about my soul. I have attended church at all opportunities, and have spent much time in private prayer. At this my husband, who is a butcher, has been exceedingly enraged, and has threatened me severely as to what he would do to me if I did not leave off going to John Fletcher's church; yea, if I dared to go again to any religious meetings whatever. When I told him I could not in conscience refrain from going, at least to the parish church, he became outrageous, and swore dreadfully, and said if I went again he would cut my throat as soon as I came back. This made me cry to God that He would support me; and though I did not feel any great degree of comfort, yet, having a sure confidence in God, I determined to do my duty, and leave the event to Him. Last Sunday, after many struggles with the devil and my own heart, I came downstairs ready for church. My husband said he should not cut my throat, as he had intended, but he would heat the oven, and throw me into it the moment I came home. Notwithstanding this threat, 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 all you said belonged to me. 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 Him. I felt so filled with His love that I hastened home, fully determined to give myself to whatsoever God pleased, nothing doubting that He either would take me to heaven, if He suffered me to be burnt to death, or that He would in some way deliver me, as He did His three servants that trusted in Him. When I got to my own door I saw flames issuing from the oven, and I expected to 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 astonishment saw my husband upon his knees, praying for the forgiveness of his sins. He caught me in his arms, earnestly begged my pardon, and has continued diligently seeking God ever since.'"
But there was opposition, as has been said, that weighed more heavily upon Fletcher's spirit than that of the poor and ignorant, who knew not what they did. Now it was a "new convert, whom the devil had by fifty visions set on the pinnacle of the temple. I have had more trouble with her visions than with her unbelief." Then he writes: "A daughter of one of my most substantial parishioners, giving place to Satan by pride and impatience, is driven in her conviction into a kind of madness. Judge how our adversaries rejoiced!"
Another incident caused him almost to despair of any good. A constable was sent to his house upon information that a cry of murder had been heard there on Christmas Day. The report arose from the cries from a young woman, who used to fall into convulsions, sometimes in the church and sometimes in the private meetings. He writes: "Her constitution is considerably weakened as well as her understanding. What to do in this case I know not; for those who are tempted in this manner pay as little regard to reason as the miserable people in Bedlam." He adds, "And for my part I was tempted to forsake my ministry and take to my heels."
A further affliction was the ill-will of the neighbouring clergy and gentry. At the archdeacon's visitation a sermon was preached against what were called the "doctrines of Methodism," and after the sermon Fletcher was triumphantly asked what answer he could make. A young clergyman, living in Madeley Wood, fastened a paper to the door of the parish church charging him with "rebellion, schism, and being a disturber of the public peace." He had opened a room for religious services in a small house built upon the rock in Madeley Wood. Hence it was known as the Rock Church. It was determined to put the Conventicle Act in force against him. A poor widow who lived in the house, Mary Matthews by name, and a young man who used to take part in the services held there, were arrested and taken before the justice. Mary Matthews was fined £20, and the justice proposed to grant a warrant for the apprehension of Fletcher. The other justices thinking it a matter beyond their jurisdiction, the warrant was not issued. His churchwardens talked loudly of putting him in the spiritual court for holding meetings in houses, and, Fletcher adds, "what is worse than all, three false witnesses offer to prove upon oath that I am a liar; and some of 'my followers' (as they are called) have dishonoured their profession, to the great joy of our adversaries."
No wonder he was from time to time greatly cast down. His health was delicate, he lived alone, and, between deliberate fasting and unconscious neglect of himself, his body suffered and his spirits were depressed. He writes to Charles Wesley: "I preach, I exhort, I pray, etc., but as yet I seem to have cast the net on the wrong side of the ship. Lord Jesus, come Thyself and furnish me with a Divine commission! For some months past I have laboured under an insufferable drowsiness. I could sleep day and night, and the hours which I ought to employ with Christ on the mountain I spend like Peter in the garden."
The drowsiness of which he complains was probably connected with what Wesley says was his invariable rule; viz. to sit up two whole nights in a week, and devote the time to reading, meditation, and prayer. We have seen that Wesley disapproved these austerities as "well intended but not well judged." It would be easy, but ungracious, to expand into censure what Wesley so gently touched upon. It will be pleasanter to look for a moment upon the solitary vicar at his frugal meal, as portrayed by one who never forgot her girlish visit to the vicarage.
"Mr. Fletcher sometimes visited a boarding school at Madeley. One morning he came in just as the girls had sat down to breakfast. He said but little while the meal lasted, but when it was finished he spoke to each girl separately, and concluded by saying to the whole, 'I have waited some time on you this morning, that I might see you eat your breakfast; and I hope you will visit me to-morrow morning and see how I eat mine.' He told them his breakfast hour was seven o'clock, and obtained a promise that they would visit him. Next morning they went at the time appointed, and seated themselves in the kitchen. Mr. Fletcher came in, quite rejoiced to see them. On the table stood a small basin of milk and sops of bread. Mr. Fletcher took the basin across the kitchen, and sat down on an old bench. He then took out his watch, laid it before him, and said: 'My dear girls, yesterday morning I waited on you a full hour while you were at breakfast. I shall take as much time this morning in eating my breakfast as I usually do, if not rather more. Look at my watch! and he immediately began to eat and continued in conversation with them. When he had finished he asked them how long he had been at breakfast. They said, 'Just a minute and a half, sir.' 'Now, my dear girls,' said he, 'we have fifty-eight minutes of the hour left'; and he began to sing—