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.”