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.”