Fletcher of Madeley

by Frederic W. Macdonald

Fletcher attended one more Conference with Wesley and his preachers. It was held in Leeds in July, 1784. The great Methodist leader was now in his eighty-second year. He wrote to a friend: "When I was young I had weak eyes, trembling hands, and abundance of infirmities. But, by the blessing of God, I have outlived them all." He laboured as hard as ever. In one respect only he spared himself; instead of riding on horseback he now made use of a travelling carriage. He still considered preaching at five o'clock in the morning the healthiest exercise in the world. He was able to preach three times a day, and address large crowds out of doors, and, when making his way to Inverness, could trudge through heavy rain twelve miles on foot. In every part of England, and very widely in Ireland and Scotland, he was better known than any other public man, and, with few exceptions, universally respected and loved. The nation had come to be proud of him. His appearance was venerable and beautiful in the extreme. The people flocked to see, as well as to hear him. He was saluted in the streets as he passed along, and children would run and kneel before him to receive his blessing.

Wesley had particular reasons for inviting Fletcher to attend the Conference. It was an anxious time with him. He had recently executed an important deed—known as the Deed of Declaration,—in which he had named one hundred of his preachers to constitute the legal Conference after his death. In this body of preachers, which had power to fill up all vacancies in its number, was vested all legal authority requisite for the admission and expulsion of preachers, the appointment of preachers to their stations; and, in various other respects, the Conference was invested with the powers hitherto possessed and exercised by Wesley himself. This deed has proved a firm foundation for the polity of the Methodists to this day. It underlies and sustains the various developments that have since taken place. It has been called Methodism's Magna Charta. Wesley himself deemed it "a foundation likely to stand as long as the sun and moon endure."

But it was not established without difficulty. There were heartburnings amongst the preachers. Of those who were not included in the "legal hundred" some were grieved, others were indignant. They could not understand on what principle Wesley had made his selection. They resented the preference shown to some, and the passing over of others among their brethren. Many of the trustees were alarmed, thinking that their powers in respect of the chapel property were imperilled. The unity of the Methodist connexion was seriously threatened, and the approaching Conference was anticipated with much anxiety. When the Conference assembled, Wesley proved himself once more equal to the occasion. His tact, his wise reasonableness, his weight of character, his transparent good faith prevailed, but it was well that he was sustained in such a crisis by the presence of Fletcher. In prospect of a heated controversy, all hope of a happy issue lay in calling forth what was deepest and best in the good men who had come together. Wesley knew that beneath the irritation and resentment of the hour was a depth of Christian principle to which appeal might hopefully be made.

On the Sunday evening before the opening of the Conference the congregation that assembled to hear Wesley was so much larger than the chapel could contain, that they adjourned to a neighbouring field, where Wesley preached a sermon on the judgment day. Early next morning Fletcher was the preacher, and his text was, "Ye are the salt of the earth." Morning and evening, during the session of the Conference, there was a sermon by Wesley, Fletcher, or one of the more eminent preachers. At the sacramental service Wesley was assisted by Fletcher, Coke, and other clergymen. In a sermon on "the man of God who was disobedient to the word of the Lord," Fletcher drew such a picture of the degradation and misery of a backsliding minister, and of the injury he inflicted upon the Church of Christ, as produced a deep and general sensation. One of his hearers reports: "I was extremely impressed with the whole service; the shadow of the Divine presence was seen among us, and His going forth was in our sanctuary."

The debate on the Deed of Declaration was the sharpest the Conference had ever known. Fletcher was greatly affected. Before the first streak of dawn his wife heard him praying fervently for the peace and prosperity of Zion, and when she gently urged him to go to rest, he answered, "The cause of God lies near my heart." During the discussion Fletcher "took much pains,"—to use Wesley's words. This matter-of-fact expression conveys little notion of the tender, impassioned way in which Fletcher laboured to heal the strife and prevent a schism. "Never," says a preacher who was present, "shall I forget the ardour and earnestness with which Mr. Fletcher expostulated, even on his knees, both with Mr. Wesley and the preachers. To the former he said, 'My father! my father! they have offended; but they are your children!' To the latter he exclaimed, 'My brethren! my brethren! he is your father!' And then, pourtraying the work in which they were unitedly engaged, he fell again on his knees, and with fervour and devotion engaged in prayer. The Conference was bathed in tears, many sobbed aloud."

At the close of the Conference Fletcher returned to Madeley, and resumed his quiet, pastoral life. Even yet Wesley was not quite satisfied at Fletcher's "hiding his light under a bushel" in his country parish. But the Vicar of Madeley knew his vocation, and abided by it. He wrote to his friend Mr. Ireland: "I keep in my sentry-box till Providence remove me; my situation is quite suited to my little strength. I may do as much or as little as I please, according to my weakness. And I have an advantage which I can have nowhere else in such a degree: my little field of action is just at my door; so that if I happen to overdo myself, I have but a step from my pulpit to my bed, and from my bed to my grave.... The snail does best in its shell; were it to aim at galloping, like the racehorse, it would be ridiculous indeed. My wife is quite of my mind with respect to the call we have to a sedentary life."

Among the latest acquaintances made by Fletcher was that with Charles Simeon, of Cambridge, then a young and zealous clergyman just coming into note, and afterwards, for so long a period, the leader of the Evangelical party in the university. Simeon preached in Madeley church, Fletcher himself previously going through the village, bell in hand, to announce that a young clergyman from Cambridge was about to preach, and urging the people to come to the church.

It does not appear that there was at this time any noticeable failure of strength, or appearance of dangerous symptoms; but, in truth, his hold of life was very feeble, his vital force was almost spent. It was often in his thoughts that death was near. Life had never been so sweet to him as it was now; but death too,

"Dear, beauteous death, the jewel of the just,"

was none the less the crowning mercy for which he waited. To few men has death been so disarmed beforehand as to Fletcher.