June 4, 1773.”
So long an extract from a newspaper would hardly have been proper in a “Life of Fletcher,” but for the fact that Fletcher himself immediately published a bulky pamphlet of 104 pages, on the same event. Its long title was the following: “A Dreadful Phenomenon described and improved. Being a Particular Account of the Sudden Stoppage of the River Severn, and of the Terrible Desolation that happened at the Birches, between Coalbrook Dale and Buildwas Bridge, in Shropshire, on Thursday morning, May 27, 1773. And the Substance of a Sermon, preached the next day, on the ruins, to a vast concourse of spectators. By John Fletcher, Vicar of Madeley, in Shropshire, and Chaplain to the Right Hon. the Earl of Buchan. Shrewsbury, 1773. Price, One Shilling.”
Thirty-three pages of Fletcher’s publication are filled with a description of the “Dreadful Phenomenon.” This is dated “Madeley, July 6, 1773.” No useful purpose would be served by quoting Fletcher’s account of what he heard and saw; but the following extract will show how he was led to preach his sermon:—
“Should the reader desire to know why I preached upon the ruins, I will ingenuously tell him. The day the earth opened at the Birches, as I considered one of the chasms, several of my parishioners gathered around me. I observed to them, that, the sight before us was a remarkable confirmation of the first argument of a book called, ‘An Appeal to Matter of Fact, or a Rational Demonstration of Man’s Fallen and Lost Estate,’ which I had just published, as a last effort to awaken to a sense of the fear of God the careless gentlemen of my parish, to whom it is dedicated. Having a few copies about me, which I was going to present to some of them, I begged leave to read that argument.
“I concluded my reading and remarks by thanksgiving and prayer; and, perceiving that seriousness sat upon all faces, I told the people, that, if they would come again the next evening to the same place, I would endeavour to improve the loud call to repentance, which God had given us that day.
“They readily consented; and when I came, at the time appointed, to my great surprise, I found a vast concourse of people, and among them several of my parishioners, who had never been at church in all their life. After a prayer and thanksgiving suitable to the uncommon circumstances, I preached a sermon, of which, so far as I can recollect, the reader may find the substance, with some additions, in the following pages. May it have a better effect upon him than it had upon some of the gentlemen who heard it! Instead of a prayer-book, they pulled out their favourite companion, a bottle; and imparted the strong contents to each other, as heartily as I did the awful contents of my text to the decent part of the congregation. Gentle reader, receive them as cordially as they did their stupifying antidote, and I ask no more.”
This, certainly, was a disgraceful scene, but not so disgraceful as that which occurred a few days afterwards, and which Fletcher, in a foot-note, relates. Among the many thousands, who came to view the results of the earthquake, were a company from Bridgnorth, headed by a young clergyman, who “brought music along with them, and set a-dancing upon the very place where the awful earthquake had happened.”
The text of Fletcher’s almost impromptu sermon was Numb. xvi. 30—34. The sermon itself occupies seventy pages. Addressing the irreverent “gentlemen” before him, the bold preacher cried:—
“O ye Christian Dathans, ye lofty Abirams, ye, who, like those proud Israelites, are in your respective parishes ‘princes of the assembly, famous in the congregation, men of renown,’ the eyes of this populous neighbourhood are upon you, especially the eyes of poor illiterate colliers, waggoners, and watermen. Do you not consider that they mind your examples, rather than God’s precepts? Are you not aware that they follow you as a bleating flock follows the first wandering sheep? Because they cannot read the sacred pages, or even tell the first letters of the alphabet, think you they cannot read secret contempt of Almighty God on the sleeves, in which they sometimes see you laugh at godliness? And suppose ye, they cannot make out open pollution of His Sabbaths when they see the remarkable seats, which you so frequently leave empty at church? Do you not know that the lessons of practical atheism, which you thus give them in the free school of bad example, they learn without delay, practise without remorse, and teach others with unwearied diligence? Alas! the pattern of indevotion, which you set in the house of God, carries, before you are aware, its baneful influence through a hundred private houses. Oh! how many are now numbered among the dead, who have taken to the ways of destruction by following you! How many are yet unborn, upon whom a curse will be entailed, in consequence of the spreading plague of irreligion, which their parents have caught from you! And shall not their blood be, more or less, required at your hands? ‘Shall not I visit for these things, saith the Lord? Shall not my soul be avenged on such a nation as this?’”
This was fearless speaking, and not likely to increase Fletcher’s popularity among his rich, dissolute parishioners. The following extract is struck upon another key:—