He cannot bear the thought of being without a sufficient supply, as "good Madeira is now become essential to his health and reputation." The last three years of his residence at Lausanne were agitated by perpetual anxiety and dread of an invasion of French democratic principles, or even of French troops.
Reluctance to quit "his paradise" keeps him still, but he is always wondering how soon he will have to fly, and often regrets that he has not done so already.

"For my part," he writes, "till Geneva falls, I do not think of a retreat; but at all events I am provided with two strong horses and a hundred louis in gold." Fate was hard on the kindly epicurean, who after his long toil had made his bed in the sun, on which he was preparing to lie down in genial content till the end came.

But he feels he must not think of rest; and that, heavy as he is, and irksome to him as it is to move, he must before long be a rover again.

Still he is never peevish upon his fortune; he puts the best face on things as long as they will bear it.
He was not so philosophical under the bereavements that he now suffered.

His aunt, Mrs.Porten, had died in 1786.