Soon the troubles in France sent wave after wave
of emigrants over the frontiers, and Lausanne had its full share of
the exiles. After a brief approval of the reforms in France he passed
rapidly to doubt, disgust, and horror at the "new birth of time"
there. "You will allow me to be a tolerable historian," he wrote to
his step-mother, "yet on a fair review of ancient and modern times I
can find none that bear any affinity to the present." The last social
evolution was beyond his power of classification. The mingled
bewilderment and anger with which he looks out from Lausanne on the
revolutionary welter, form an almost amusing contrast to his usual
apathy on political matters. He is full of alarm lest England should
catch the revolutionary fever. He is delighted with Burke's
_Reflections_. "I admire his eloquence, I approve his politics, I
adore his chivalry, and I can forgive even his superstition." His
wrath waxes hotter at every post. "Poor France! The state is
dissolved! the nation is mad." At last nothing but vituperation can
express his feelings, and he roundly calls the members of the
Convention "devils," and discovers that "democratical principles lead
by a path of flowers into the abyss of hell."

In 1790 his friends the Neckers had fled to Switzerland, and on every
ground of duty and inclination he was called upon to show them the
warmest welcome, and he did so in a way that excited their liveliest
gratitude. Necker was cast down in utter despair, not only for the
loss of place and power, but on account of the strong animosity which
was shown to him by the exiled French, none of whom would set their
foot in his house. The Neckers were now Gibbon's chief intimates till
the end of his sojourn in Switzerland. They lived at Coppet, and
constant visits were exchanged there and at Lausanne. Madame Necker
wrote to him frequent letters, which prove that if she had ever had
any grievance to complain of in the past, it was not only forgiven,
but entirely forgotten. The letters, indeed, testify a warmth of
sentiment on her part which, coming from a lady of less spotless
propriety, would almost imply a revival of youthful affection for her
early lover. "You have always been dear to me," she writes, "but the
friendship you have shown to M. Necker adds to that which you inspire
me with on so many grounds, and I love you at present with a double
affection."--"Come to us when you are restored to health and to
yourself; that