BY THE SHORES OF LAKE LEMAN.
Unaware of the sickness of her saintly friend (whom she had not met
for fifteen years), Miss Bosanquet was one day extremely startled to
be asked, "Do you know that Mr. Fletcher is dying?" She at once began
to entreat the Lord for him, and while upon her knees received the
assurance of James v. 15: "The prayer of faith shall save the sick,
and the Lord shall raise him up."
Just at that time the Methodist Conference was held in Bristol, and
Fletcher, who had returned to the ceaseless care of Mr. Ireland near
by, was one day assisted by him into the assembly. A letter written by
one who was present gives an interesting picture of the scene:--
"The whole assembly stood up as if moved by an electric shock. Mr.
Wesley rose, _ex cathedrâ_, and advanced a few paces to receive
his highly-respected friend and reverend brother, whose visage seemed
strongly to bode that he stood on the verge of the grave, while his
eyes, sparkling with seraphic love, indicated that he dwelt in the
suburbs of Heaven.... He addressed the Conference, on their work and
his own views, in a strain of holy and pathetic eloquence, which no
language of mine can adequately express. The influence of his spirit
and pathos seemed to bear down all before it....He had scarcely
pronounced a dozen sentences before a hundred preachers, to speak in
round numbers, were immersed in tears.... Mr. Wesley, in order to
relieve his languid friend from the fatigue and injury which might
arise from a too long and arduous exertion of the lungs through much
speaking, abruptly kneeled down at his side, the whole congress of
preachers doing the same, while, in a concise and energetic manner,
he prayed for Mr. Fletcher's restoration to health, and a longer
exercise of his ministerial labours. Mr. Wesley closed his prayer with
the following prophetic promise, pronounced in his peculiar manner,
and with a confidence and emphasis which seemed to thrill through
every heart--'HE SHALL NOT DIE, BUT LIVE, AND DECLARE THE WORKS OF THE
LORD?'"
This prophecy was afterwards blessedly fulfilled.
Madeley yearned for its now beloved Vicar, and thinking that all would
be well if he were only once more in their midst, one of his
parishioners brought a horse, designing to walk by him all the way
from Bristol to Madeley. Two or three others came and entreated him to
travel home in a post-chaise, but his physicians forbade his return to
the scene of his old labours, and his parishioners, perforce, returned
disappointed.
Miss Bosanquet thought to help the cure she now expected, and sent a
favourite remedy of her own, which Fletcher acknowledged in a long
letter, but did not try.
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.'"
So sad was he about the spiritual condition of his parishioners, that
he applied to Wesley for one of his helpers, who was then a master in
Kingswood School; believing truly that two who were of one mind, both
living in communion with the Holy Ghost, had great hope of bringing to
life a dead parish, even though one were not an authorised curate, and
the other but a sick vicar. Fletcher had learned to look _past
man_--to God and God alone.