On his return to England, Fletcher brought this unfinished treatise with him, and, as we have said, never found time to complete it. One work he published while in Switzerland, a poem entitled "La Louange," afterwards enlarged and republished in England under the title, "La Grace et La Nature." The Swiss edition required, and received, the license of the official censor at Lausanne, who was good enough to give his imprimatur in the following terms: "I have read this work, which, in my judgment, everywhere breathes Piety, Faith, and Christian Charity."--DE BONS, _Censeur_. The English edition was dedicated, by permission, to Queen Charlotte.
One incident connected with Fletcher's residence at Nyon remains to be told. A certain nephew of his, lately an officer in the Sardinian army, had been compelled to leave the service under discreditable circumstances. To rid themselves of his company, his brother officers agreed to challenge him in succession. After fighting two or three duels, he was obliged to resign his commission and leave the country. He returned to Switzerland, to become a terror and a distress to his relatives. Having squandered his money in various evil ways, and come to the end of his resources, he resorted to a desperate expedient. He asked for a private interview with his uncle, General de Gons, and when they were alone, suddenly presented a loaded pistol, and said, "Uncle de Gons, if you do not give me a draft on your banker for five hundred crowns, I will shoot you." His uncle, finding himself in the power of a desperado capable of any mischief, and, possibly, having no heart to resist the violence of one who was all but a son, complied with his demand. His nephew then extracted a promise from him that he would not, on his honour as a gentleman and a soldier, take any steps to recover the draft, or bring him to justice; after which he rode off triumphant with his ill-gotten gains.
As he passed the door of his uncle Fletcher, the fancy took him to call and pay him a visit, and he began at once to tell him of the kindness of his uncle De Gons, who had just given him five hundred crowns, adding, as he held out the draft, "If you don't believe me, see the proof under his own hand." Fletcher felt that there was something wrong. He took the draft, and looked first at it, and then at the young man. "It is, indeed, my brother's writing," said he, "and I am astonished to see it, for he is not rich, and I know that he so much disapproves your conduct that you are the last of the family to whom he would make such a present." Then folding the paper, and putting it into his pocket, he added, "It strikes me, young man, that you have come by this by some improper means, and I cannot, in honesty, return it to you but with my brother's knowledge and approbation." Out came the young ruffian's pistol once more, and putting it to Fletcher's breast, he swore he would have his life if he did not immediately return him the draft. "My life," replied Fletcher, "is secure in the hands of God." The young man still sought to terrify him into compliance. "Do you think," said Fletcher, "that I have been twenty-five years the minister of the Lord of life, to be afraid of death now? It is for you to fear death, who have every reason to fear it. You are a gambler and a cheat, yet call yourself a gentleman! You are a seducer, and a duellist, and call yourself a man of honour! Look there, sir; look there! The eye of God is upon us. Tremble in the presence of your Maker, who can in a moment kill your body, and for ever punish your soul in hell."