Before the year (1777) was spent, Fletcher had so far recovered his strength as to be able to travel, and, accompanied by Mr. Ireland, two of his daughters, and other friends, started for Switzerland, that once more Fletcher might breathe his native air.
A continental journey by post-chaise in December was not unlikely to prove trying, but though the axle-tree broke, and they were left on the side of a snow-covered hill with nine miles to walk in the piercing cold of a north wind, Mr. Fletcher bore the fatigue and cold as well as any of the party. By the end of February he was able to ride fifty-five miles in a day A couple of months later he was welcomed to his father’s house at Nyon once more, where the sweet, pure air, much riding and plenty of goats’ milk conduced to the healing process at work within him.
“We have a fine shady wood near the lake,” he wrote to a friend, “where I can ride in the cool all the day, and enjoy the singing of a multitude of birds.” Of the way in which he spent his time he says, “I pray, have patience, rejoice, and write when I can; I saw wood in the house when I cannot go out; and eat grapes, of which I have always a basket by me.”
“I met some children in my wood gathering strawberries,” runs a letter to Mr. Ireland, who had not accompanied him to Nyon; “I spoke to them about our common Father. We felt a touch of brotherly affection They said they would sing to their Father, as well as the birds, and followed me, attempting to make such music as you know is commonly made in these parts. I outrode them, but some of them had the patience to follow me home, and said they would speak with me. The people of the house stopped them, saying I would not be troubled with children They cried, and said they were sure I would not say so, for I was their good brother The next day, when I heard this, I enquired after them, and invited them to come and see me, which they have done every day since. I make them little hymns, which they sing Some of them are under sweet drawings... Last Sunday I met them in the wood; there were a hundred of them, and as many adults Our first pastor has since desired me to desist from preaching in the wood... for fear of giving umbrage; and I have complied, from a concurrence of circumstances which are not worth mentioning; I therefore now meet them in my father’s yard.”
In the following winter Fletcher made an eighty-mile journey in order to assist his English medical adviser and friend, William Perronet, to secure a Swiss inheritance which he had gone to the Continent to claim Part of the distance had to be performed on a sledge through “narrow passes cut through the snow...frequently on the brinks of precipices”; some of it was traversed on foot amid hardship and danger But neither distances nor difficulties prevented Fletcher from speaking to all whom he could find ready to listen of Christ and His boundless love. William Perronet declared that he had preached the Gospel, not only by words and example, but by looks also, wherever he went.
From the early days of his frugal feasting upon bread and currants, Fletcher strongly believed in the plentiful use of fruit as food. His grapes were succeeded the following summer by a black-cherry diet, and for severe rheumatism he drank a decoction of pine-apple He had also great faith in exercise, riding in preference to driving, walking whenever he had strength, and when unable to go out of doors allowing himself three minutes of jumping just before dinner This may sound a curious form of exertion, yet it was recommended to him by two physicians.
Despite the blessing Fletcher was to the people around him—some of whom pleaded with him on their knees, with tears, to remain with them—there were many in authority who took the greatest exception to his “irregular” ways of doing good He was actually “summoned before the Seigneur Bailiff, who sharply reprimanded him for preaching against Sabbath-breaking and stage plays.” He forbade Mr. Fletcher preaching in any of the churches of his native country. Curiously enough, the minister who led this opposition died suddenly, as he was dressing for church, and a house was given over to the Vicar’s use that he might there exhort the many who came to him for help and teaching.
While in Switzerland he composed a French poem called “La Louange” (Praise), which he afterwards enlarged under the title of “Grace and Nature,” dedicating it, by permission, “To the Queen of Great Britain.” He also wrote “The Portrait of St. Paul—the true Model for Christians and Pastors”; which was translated and published after his death.
Fletcher arrived in England in April, 1781, preaching at City Road Chapel on his way to Mr. Ireland’s house near Bristol, where, because his friend was ill, he stayed a month, returning to Madeley in May, after having been absent four and a-half years.
He found his parish under a cloud, “but, alas!” he exclaimed, “it is not the luminous cloud by day, nor the pillar of fire by night Even the few remaining professors stared at me the other day when I preached to them on these words: ’Ye shall receive the Holy Ghost, for the promise is unto you.’”