A short account of the life and death of the Rev. John Fletcher, vicar of Madelay

Front matter

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Chap. I

i. JOHN WILLIAM DE LA "FLECHERE (this was properly his name) was born at Nyon in Switzerland, a town about fifteen mites north of Geneva, on September the twelfth, in the year 1729. His father was an ofHcer in the French service? till he left the army in order to marry. But after a time he returned to the army, and was a colonel in the militia of his own country.

2. In his early childhood he had much of the fear of God, and great tenderness of conscience.... One day, having offended his father; who threatened to correct him, he did not dare to come into his pre-, sence, but retired into the garden : and when he saw him coming toward him he ran away with all speed, A 2

But be was presently struck with deep remorse, and said to himself, M What ! Do I run away from my father ? Perhaps I shall live to have a son, that will run away from me ! And it was several years before the impression, which he then received, was worn off.

3. Another instance of his tenderness of conscience occurred, when he was about seven years of age. He was one day reproved by the nurserymaid, saying, "You are a naughty boy. Do you not know, that the devil is to take away all naughty children V 9 He was no sooner in bed, than he began to reflect very deeply upon her words. He thought, "I am a naughty boy. And how do I know, but God may let the devil take me away this night." He then got up and wrestled with God in prayer, for a considerable time. And he would not go to bed again, till he believed God had forgiven him.

4. The following accounts Mr. Fletcher himself gave to Mr. Samuel Webb, of London, then reside ing at Madeley.

" When I was a lad, I had a design to get some fruit out of my father's garden. The door being locked, 1 could not get in, but by climbing over the wall. This was very high ; but with some difficulty, I got to the top of it. As I was walking upon it, my foot slipped, and I fell down to the bottom. But just where I fell, a large quantity of fresh-made mortar was laid. I fell exactly upon it. This broke my faii, or it might have cost memy life.

5. " Once as I was swiming by myself in a deep water, one end of a long strong ribbon which bound my hair, getting loose 1 know not how, and twisting about my leg, tied me as it were neck and heels. I strove with all my strength to disengage myself : but it was to no purpose. No person being within call, I gave myself up for lost. But when I nad given qver struggling, the ribbon loosed of itself.

6. « Another instance of the tender care which God had over me was as follows. One evening I and four young gentlemen in high spirits, made a solemn agreement with each other, to swim the next day to a rocky island, five miles distant from the shore. But this foolish adventure was within a very little of costing us our lives. I and another indeed did with great difficulty and hazard swim to the island. But when we came thither, the rock was so steep and smooth, that we could not possibly climb up. After swiming round several times, and making many ineffectual efforts, we thought we must perish there. But at length one of us found a place, where he made a shift to crawl up. He then helDed his companion after him; the others swam about half way. A boat then took them up, when they were just sinking. Another boat, which we had ordered to follow us, afterwards came and took us home,"

7. A still more remarkable deliverance it is,of which he gave an account in the year 1760. Some years since I lived at a place very near the river Rhine. In that part, it is broader than the Thames at London- Bridge, and extremely rapid. But having been long practised in swiming, I made no scruple of going into it at any time. Only I was always careful to keep near the shore, that the steam might not carry me away. Once, however, being less careful than usual, I was unawares drawn into the mid-channel. The water there was extremely rough, and poured along like a galloping horse. I endeavoured to swim against it, but in vain, till I was hurried far from home. When I was almost spent, I rested upon my back, and then Jooked about for a landing place, finding I must either land or sink. With much difficulty I got near the shore. But the rocks were so ragged and sharp, that I saw, if I attempted to land there, I should be torn in pieces. So I was constrained to turn again to the mid-stream: at last, despairing of life, I was cheered by the sight of a line smooth creek, into which I was swiftly carried by a violent stream. A building stood directly across it, which I did not then know to be a powder mill. The last thing I can remember was, the striking of my breast against one of the piles whereon it stood. I then lost my senses, and knew nothing more, till I rose on the other side of the mill. When I came to myselt, I was in a calm, safe place, perfectly well, without any soreness or weariness at all. Nothing was amiss but the distance of my clothes, the stream having driven me five miles from the place where I left them. Many persons gladly welcomed me on shore: one gentleman in particular, who said, "I looked when you went under the mill? and again when you rose on the other side. And the time of your being immerged among the piles, was exactly twenty minutes,'*

But some will say, "why this was a miracle !" Undoubtedly it was. It was not a natural event; but a work wrought above the power of Nature, pro* bably by the ministry of angels.

8. When he was yet very young, his father sent him to the University of Geneva. After he had gone through the usual coure of study, it was the desire of his parents, that he should be a clergyman. But it was his own desire and resolution, to be an officer in the army. No* being able to gain their consent to this, he, without their consent, went away to Lisbon. Here he gathered a company of his own countrymen, accepted of a captain's commission, and engaged to serve the king of Portugal, on board a man of war, which was just them getting ready with all speed, in order to sail to Brazil. He then wrote to his parents, begging them to send him a considerable sum of money. Of this he expected to make a vast advantage. But they refused him roughly: unmoved by this he determined to go without it, as soon as the ship sailed. But in the morning, the maid waiting on him at breakfast, let the tea-kettle fall, and so scalded his leg, that he kept his bed for a considerable time after. During that time, the ship sailed for Brazil. But it was observed, that ship was heard of no more,

9, But how is this reconcileable with the account which has been given of his piety when he was a child ? Very easily : it only shews, that his piety declined while he was at the University. (And this is too often the case of other youths, in our own Universities.) But it pleased God at or before his journey to England, to lift up his head again .

10. His desire of being an officer in the army continued after he returned from Lisbon. And when he was informed, that his unc\e, then a Colonel in the Dutch service, had procured a commission for him, he joyfully set out for Flanders. But just at that time the peace was concluded; and his uncle dying quickly after, his hopes were blasted, and he gave up all thoughts of going into the army. And being disengaged from all business he thought it would not be amiss, to spend a little time in England.

11. Coming to the custom-house in London, with some other young gentlemen, none of whom could speak any English, they were treated with the utmost surliness and ill-manners, by some brutish custom-house officers. These not only took out, and jumbied together, all the things that were in their portmanteaus ; but took away all their letters of recommendation ; telling them, " All Letters must be sent by the post." They are such saucy and ill-mannered wretches as these that bring up an evil report on our Nation. Britons might well be stiled Hospitibus feri, if they were ail like these vermin.

12. From hence they went to an inn; but here they were under another difficulty. As they spoke no English, they could not tell how to exchange their foreign, into English money : till Mr. Fletcher going to the door, heard a well-drest Jew talking French* He told him the difficulty they were under, with re° gard to the exchange of money. The Jew replied, " Give me your money, and I will get it changed in five minutes." Mr. Fletcher without delay gave him his purse, in which were ninety pounds. As soon as he came back to his company, he told them what he had done. They all crkd out with one voice, " then your money is gone. You need never expect to see a crown or a doit of it any more. Men are constantly waiting about the doors of these Inns, on purpose to take in young sti angers." Seeing no remedy, no way to help himself, he could only commend his cause to God. And that was enough. Before they had done breakfast, in came the Jew, and brought him the Whole money.

13. Enquiring for a person who was proper to perfect him in the English tongue, (the rudiments of which he had begun to learn before he left Geneva) he was recommended to Mr Burchell, who theniept a boarding schpol, at South -Nimms in Hertfordshire. And when Mr.feurchell removed to Hatfield, he chose to remove with him. All the time he was both at South-Nimms and at Hatfield, he was of a serious and reserved behaviour; very different from that of the other young gentlemen, who weie his ft How students. Here he diligently studied both the English language, and all the branches of polite literature. Mean time his easy and genteel behaviour, together with his eminent sweetness of temper, gained him the esteem as well as the affection, of all th U conversed with him. He frequently visited some of the first families in

Hatfield, who were all fond of his conversation: so Hvely and ingenious at the same time, evidencing both the gentleman and the scholar. All this time he had the fear of God deeply rooted in his heart. But h« had none to take him by the hand, and lead him forward in the ways of God. he stayed with Mr. Burchell about eighteen months, who loved him as his own son.

14. Afterwards one Mr. Dechamps, a French minister, to whom he had been recommended, procured him the place of tutor to the two sons of Thomas Hill, esquire, at Tern-Hall, in Shropshire. In the year 1752, he removed into Mr. Hili's family, and entered upon the important province of instructing the young gentlemen. He si ill feared God, but had noi yet an experimental sense of his love. Nor was he convinced of his own fallen state, till one Sunday evening, a servant came in to make up his fire, while he was writing some music, who looking at him with serious concern, said, " Sir, I am sorry to see you so employed on the Lorci's-day." At first his pride was alarmed, and his resentment moved at being reproved by a servant. But upon reflection, he felt the reproof was just. He immediately put away his music, and from that very houi, became a strict observer of the Lord's-day .

15. I have heard two very different accounts of the manner wherein he had the first notice of tne pco^ic called Methodists. But I t:ink it reasonable to prefer to any other, that which I received tvom his own mouth. This was as follows:

When Mr. Hill went up to London to attend the Parliament, he took his family and Mr. Fletcher with him. While they stopped at St. Albans, he walked out into the town, and did not return, till they were set out for London. A horse being left for him, he rode after, and overtook them in the evening. Mr. Hill asking him, why he stayed behind? He said, " As I was walking, I met with a poor old woman, who talked so sweetly of Jesus Christ, that I knew not how the time passed away." I shall wonder, said Mrs. H, if our tutor does not turn Methodist by and by. " Methodist, madam, said he, pray what is that I" She replyed, " Why, the Methodists are a people that do nothing but pray: they are praying all day and all night.'' " Are they? said he, then by the help of God, I will find them out, if they be above ground." He did find them out, not long after, and was admitted into the society. And from this time, whenever he was in town, he met in Mr. Richard Edwards's class. This he found so profitable to his soul, that he lost no opportunity of meeting. And he retained a peculiar regard for Mr. Edwards, till the day of his death,

CHAP. II. Of his Conversion to God

I. IT Will be most satisfactory to the serious reader, to give an account of this in his own words. They run thus. « The twelfth of January, in the year 1755, I received the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper, though my heart was as hard as a stone. The following day I felt the tyranny of sin more than ever, and an uncommon coldness in all religious duties. I felt the burden of my corruptions heavier than ever: there was no rest in my flesh. I called upon the Lord, but with such heaviness, as made me fear it was lost labour. Many a time did I take up the Bible to seek comfort ; but not being able to read, I shut it again. The thoughts which engrossed my mind were these. I am undone. I have wandered from God more than ever. I have trampled under foot the frequent convictions which God has wrought in my heart. Instead of going straight to Christ, I have wasted my time, in fighting against sin, by the sole use of the means of grace : as if the means would do me good, without the blessing of God. I never had faith : and without faith it is impossible to please God. Therefore all my thoughts, words, and works, however specious before men, are utterly sinful before God. And if I am not changed before I go hence, I am lost to all eternity.

2. When I saw that all my endeavours availed nothing agajnst my conquering sin, I almost gave up all hope, and resolved to sin on and go to hell. Yet I had a strange thought, "If I do go to hell, I will praise God there. And since I cannot be a monument of his mercy in heaven. I will be a monument of his justice in hell." But I soon recovered my ground.' I thought, Christ died for all. Therefore he died for me. He died to pluck such sinners as I am out of the devil's teeth. And as I sincerely desire to be his, he will surely take me to himself. He will •surely let me know before I die, that he has died for me. If he leaves me for a while in this dread ful state, it is only to shew me the depth he draws me out of. But then I thought perhaps he will do it only at my dying hour. And must I sin on till then ? How can I endure this? But I thought again, My Saviour was above three and thirty years on earth. Let me wait for him as many years, and then I may have some excuse for my impatience. Does God owe me any thing? Is he bound* to time or place ? Do I deserve any thing- at his hands but damnation ? Yet anger was always one of the sins which I could not overcome. I went on sinning, and repenting, and sinning again r but still calling on God's mercy through Christ.

3. I was now beat out of all my strongholds. I felt my helplessness ; and lay at the feet of Christ. I cried, « Save me, Lord, as a brand plucked out of the fire ! Give me justifying faith : for the devil will surely reign over me, till thou takest me into thy hand. I shall only be an instrument in his hand to work wickedness, till thou stretch out thy almighty hand, and save thy lost creature; by free, unmerited grace. " I seldom went to private prayer, but this thought came into my mind, this may be the happy hour, when thou wilt prevail with God ! But still I was disappointed. I cried to God : but my heart did not go with % my lips. 1 prayed, but often could hardly keep awake. When overcome with heaviness, I went to be J: beseeching God to spare me till the next day, that I might renew my wrestling with him, till I should prevail.

4. On Sunday, the nineteenth in the evening, 1 heard an excellent sermon on these words : Being justified by faith, we have peace with God, through cur Lord Jesus Christ. I heard it attentively, but my heart was not moved. I was only still more convinced, that I was an unbeliever, and that till I had faith, I should never have peuce. The hymn after sermon suited the subject : but I could not join in singing it. So I sat mourning, while others rejoiced. I went home, still resolving to wrestle with the Lord, like Jacob, till I should become a prevailing Israel.

5.1 begged of God the following day, to shew 7 me the wickedness of my heart. I besought him to increase my convictions : for I was afraid I did not mourn enough for my sins. ButI found relief in Mr, Wesley's Journal, where I learned, that we should not build on what we feel, but go to Christ with all our sins, and all our hardness of heart. On the twenty-first 1 wrote down part of what filled my heart,namely,aconfession of my sins, misery, and helplessness, together with a resolution to seek Christ even unto death. In the evening I read the Scriptures, and found a sort of pleasure, in seeing a picture of my own wickedness exactly drawn in the third of the Romans, and that of my present condition in the seventh. I often wished to be acquainted with some body, who had been in my condition, and. resolved to seek for one, to whom I might unbosom my whole soul. On Thursday sat an beset me hard : I sinned and grievously too. And now I almost gave up all hope : I was on the brink of despair; and nevertheless continued to fall into sin as often as I had temptation. But I must observe, that though I frequently thought, hell would be my portion, yet I never was much afraid of it : whether this was owing to a secret hope, or to hardness of heart, I know not. But I was continually crying out, What stupidity ! I see myself hanging over hell, as it were by a single thread 1 And yet I am not afraid j but sin on !G what is man without the grace of God I Avery devil in wickedness, though inferior to him in power ! In the evening I went to a sincere friend, and told him something of my state. He endeavoured to administer comfort. But it was not suited to my state. When we parted he gave me some advice which was better suited to my condition. " God, said he, is merciful. God lovts you, and if he denie you any thing it is for your good. You deserve nothing at his hands; but wait patiently for him, and never give up your hope." I went home resolved to follow his advice, though I should stay till death.

6. I proposed to receive the Lord's Supper on the following Sunday. I therefore returned to my

b 2 room, and looked out a sacramental hymn. I learned it by heart, and prayed it over many times, intending to repeat it at the table. Then I went to bed with rather more hope and peace than I had felt for some time. But satan waked, though I slept. I dreamed I had committed a grievous and abominable sin. I awaked amazed and confounded, but fell upon my knees and prayed with more faith than usual : and afterwards went about my business with an uncommon cheerfulness. It was not long before I was tempted by my besetting sin : but I found it had no power. My soul was not even ruffled. I took no notice of this at first. But having withstood the temptation again and again, I perceived it was the Lord's doing. Afterwards it was suggested, It is presumption for such a sinner, to hope for so great a mercy. I prayed, that I might not be in a delusion ; and the more I prayed, the more clearly I saw itw r as real. For though sin stirred ail the day long, I always overcame it in the name of the Lord.

7. In the evening I read the experiences of some of God's children, and found mine agreed with theirs. Hereby my faith was strengthened, and my hope considerably increased : I intreated the Lord, to deal with his servant according to his mercy, and take all the glory to himself. I prayed earnestly, and was persuaded, I should have peace with God and dominion over sin : not doubting but the full assurance also would be given in God's good time. I continued calling on him for an increase of faith, (for still I had some fear of being in a delusion.) And having confc9 tinued my suplication, till near one in the morning, 1 opened my Bible on those words, " Cast thy burden cnlhe Lord, and he shall sustain thee. He vjill not suffer the righteous to be moved' 9 Filled with joy, I fell upon my knees, to beg of God that I might always cast my burden upon him My hope was now greatly increased ; and I thought I saw myself conqueror over sin, hell, and all manner of affliction.

8. With this comfortable promise I shut up my Bible* being now perfectly satisfied. As I shut it, I cast my eyes on that word, Whatsoever ye shall ask in my name I will do it. So having asked grace of God to serve him till death, I went cheerfully to bed. 5 '

9. So far we have Mr, Fletcher's own account, under his own hand. From this time he had the witnessin himself : he knew that he had redemption through the blood of Christy even the forgiveness of sins. But he still continued pleading with the Lord, to take a fuller possession of his heart : till one day, as he was in earnest prayer, lying prostrate on his face before God, he saw as it were, our blessed Lord, hanging and bleeding pn the cross. And at the same time those words were spoken with power to his heart.

" Seiz'd by the rage of sinful men

I see him bound, and bruis'd, and slain :

5 Tis done 1 The martyr-dies I His life, to ransom ours is given :

And lo ! the fiercest fire of heaven Consumes the sacrifice.

He suffers both from men and God ! He bears the universal loud

Of guilt and misery !

He suffers to reverse our doom : And lo ! my Lord is here become

The bread of life to me ¥*

10. I believe this was in January, 1756, in the second year after he removed to Tern. Now all his bonds were broken: he breathed a purer air, and was able to say with confidence, The life I now live. Hive by faith in the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me. By means of this faith, sin was wider his feet. Knowing in whom he had believed, he could continually triumph in the Lord, and praise the God of his salvation.

11. From this time he walked cheerfully, as well as valiently in the ways of God 1 He closely followed his master, denying himself and taking up, his cross daily. And thinking he had not leisure in the day for the great work which he had in hand, he made it an invariable rule to sit up two whole nights in a week. These he dedicated to reading, meditation, and prayer, in order to enter more deeply into that communion with the Father and the Son, which was the delight of his soul. Mean time he lived entirely on vegetable food, and for some time on bread with milk and water. None can doubt that these aus-

5 1 terlties were well intended. But it seems they were not well judged. It is probable, they gave the first wound to an excellent constitution, and laid the foundation of many infirmities, which nothing but death could cure.

CHAP. III. From his Conversion to hh settling at Madelcy

1. IT was not long after he had himself tasted the powers of the world to come, that he was pressed in spirit, to exhort others to seek after the same blessing. And he was the more strongly excited to this, by seeing the world all around him lying in wickedness. Being deeply sensible of the goodness of God on the one hand, and the misery of mankind on the other, he found an earnest longing

" To pluck poor brands out of the fire, " To snatch them from the verge of hell."

This he began to do a considerabie time before he was admitted into holy orders. Ami even his first labours of love were far from being in vain. For though he was by no means perfect in the English tongue, particularly with regard to the pronunciation of it ; yet the earnestness with which he spoke, (seldom to be found in English preachers) and the unspeakable tender affection to poor, undone sinners, which breathed in every word and gesture, drew multitudes of people to hear him : and by the blessing of God, his word made so deep an impression on their hearts, that very few went empty away.

2. From this time till he undertook the direct care of souls, he used to be in London, during the sitting of the parliament, and the rest of the year at Tern- Hall (as it was then called) instructing the young gentlemen. Every Sunday he attended the parish church at Atcham. But when the service was ended, instead of going home in the coach which was always ready, he usually took a solitary walk by the Severn side, and spent some time in meditation and prayer. A pious domestic of Mr. Hill, having frequently observtd him, one Sunday desired leave to walk with him, which he constantly did from that time. The account which he (Mr. Vaughan, still living in London) gives of Mr. Fletcher, is as follows : " It was our ordinary custom, when the church service was over, to retire into the most lonely fields or meadows ; where we frequently either kneeled down, or prostrated ourselves upon the ground. At those happy seasons I was a witness of such pleadings and wrestlings with God, such exercises of faith and love, as I have not known in any one ever since. The consolations which we then received from God, induced us to appoint two or three nights in a week, when we duly met, after his pupils were asleep. We ms$ also constantly on Sunday, between four and five in the morning. Sometimes I stepped into his study on other days. I rarely saw any book before him, besides the Bible and the Christian Pattern. And he was seldom in any other company, unless when necessary business required, besides that of the unworthy Writer of this paper."

3. " When he was in the country, he used to visit an officer of excise at Atcham, to be instructed in singing. On my desiring him to give me some account of what he recollected concerning Mr. Fletcher, he answered thus : " As to that man of God, Mr. Fletcher, it is but little that I remember of him ; it being above nine and twenty years, since the last time I saw him. But this I well remember, his conversation with me was always sweet and savoury. He was too wise to suffer any of his precious moments to be trifled away. When there was company to dine at Mr. Hill's, he frequently retired into the garden, and contentedly dined on a piece of bread, and a few bunches of currants. Indeed, in his whole manner of living, he was a pattern of abstemiousness. Mean time, how great was his sweetness of temper and heavenly -mindness i I never saw it equalled in any one. How often, when I parted with him at Tern- Hall, have his eyes and hands been lifted up to heaven, to implore a blessing upon me, with fervour and devoutness unequalled by any I ever saw I F firmly believe, he has not left in this land, or perhaps in any other, one luminary like himself. I conclude, wishing this light may be so held up, that many may se^ the glory thereof, and be transformed into its likeness. May you and I, and all that love the Lord Jesus Christ, be partakers of that holiness, which was so conspicuous in him !**