\ > > / \ / / / / \ E BITAE .0 (Tj IB B (D) E", E S (Q) "f .ii.lui J.liu-f;y, loO IHE LIFE EDWARD GIBBON, ESQ. SELECTIONS FROM HIS CORRESPONDENCE, ILLUSTRATIONS THE REV. H. H. MILMAN, PREBENDARY OF ST. PETERS, AXD MINISTER OF ST. MARGARETS, WESTMINSTER, LONDON: JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. AIDCCCXXXIX. /?iV 4 miVEfiSn V Ol. CAUrORM. fi SAMA liAKJiAiJA ^7 INTRODUCTION. The admirable manner in which Gibbon executed the sketch of his own Life, as well as the total de- ficiency of materials for a new Biography, altogether preclude the attempt to recompose the Life of the Author of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Em- pire. The writer of a very able criticism on Gib- bon's MiscellaneousWorks, in the QuarterlyReview, vol. xii. p. 375. (the late Dr. Whitaker, the His- torian of Craven, and the Editor of Piers Plough- man's Vision and Creed), thus felicitously and justly characterises the Life of Gibbon: — ** It is perhaps the best specimen of Autobiography in the English language. Descending from the lofty level of his History, and relaxing the stately march which he maintains throughout that work, into a more natural and easy pace, this enchant- ing writer, with an ease, spirit, and vigour pe- culiar to himself, conducts his readers through a sickly childhood, a neglected and desultory edu- cation, and a youth wasted in the unpromising and unscholar-like occupation of a militia officer, to the period when he resolutely applied the energies of his genius to a severe course of voluntary study, which in the space of a few years rendered him a A 3 VI INTRODUCTION. consummate masterof Roman antiquity, and lastly ])roduced the history of the decline and fall of that mighty empire." In republishing the Life of Gibbon, the Editor has taken the liberty of dividing it into chapters, in order that the longer notes, the extracts, and the journals, which distract the reader of the text, and break its agreeable flow, may be inter- posed at those intervals at which we may suppose the reader inclined to pause ; yet each extract may present itself at the proper period of the Life. The Editor has inserted in their place, in these additions, such parts of Gibbon's correspondence as appeared most likely to interest the reader, and to throw light on the character of Gibbon ; with the few anecdotes which he has been able to glean from other quarters, and such observations as seemed calculated to illustrate the work. — M. ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION. Vll From Lord SheffiekVs Advertisement to the First Edition of Gihbon^s Miscellaneous Works. The melancholy duty of examining the papers of my deceased Friend devolved upon me at a time when I was depressed by severe afflictions. In that state of mind, I hesitated to undertake the task of selecting and preparing his manuscripts for the press. The warmth of my early and long attachment to Mr. Gibbon made me conscious of a partiality, which it was not proper to indulge, es- pecially in revising many of his juvenile and un- finished compositions. I had to guard, not only against a sentiment like my own, which I found extensively diffused, but also against the eagerness occasioned by a very general curiosity to see in print every literary relic, however imperfect, of so distinguished a writer. Being aware how disgracefully authors of emi- nence have been often treated, by an indiscreet posthumous publication of fragments and careless effusions ; when I had selected those Papers which to myself appeared the fittest for the public eye, I consulted some of our common friends, whom I knew to be equally anxious with myself for Mr. Gibbon's fame, and fully competent, from their judgment, to protect it. Under such a sanction it is, that, no longer sus- A 4 Vlll ADVERTISEMENT TO pecting myself to view througli too favourable a medium the compositions of my Friend, I now venture to publish them : and it may here be proper to give some information to the reader respecting the contents of these volumes. The most important part consists of Memoirs of Mr. Gibbon's Life and Writings, a work which he seems to have projected with peculiar solici- tude and attention, and of which he left Six dif- ferent sketches, all in his own hand-writing. One of the sketches, the most diffuse and circumstantial, so far as it proceeds, ends at the time when he quitted Oxford. Another at the year 1764, when he travelled to Italy. A third at his father's death, in 1770. A fourth, which he continued to March 1791, appears in the form of Annals, much less de- tailed than the others. The two remaining sketches are still more imperfect. But it is difficult to dis- cover the order in which these several Pieces were written. From all of them the following Me- moirs have been carefully selected, and put to- gether. My hesitation in giving these Memoirs to the world arose, principally, from the circumstance of Mr. Gibbon's seeming, in some respect, not to have been quite satisfied with them, as he had so frequently varied their form : yet, notwith- standing this diffidence, the compositions, though unfinished, are so excellent, that I think myself justified in permitting my Friend to appear as his own biographer, rather than to have that office THE FIRST EDITION. IX undertaken by any other person less qualified for it. This opinion has rendered me anxious to publish the present Memoirs, without any unnecessary de- lay ; for I am persuaded, that the Author of them cannot be made to appear in a truer light than he does in the following pages. In them, and in his different Letters, which I have added, will be found a complete picture of his talents, his dis- position, his studies, and his attainments. Those slight variations of character, which na- turally arose in the progress of his life, will be unfolded in a series of letters, selected from a correspondence between him and myself, which continued full thirty years, and ended with his death. It is to be lamented, that all the sketches of the Memoirs, except that composed in the form of annals, cease about twenty years before Mr. Gibbon's death ; and consequently, that we have the least detailed account of the most interesting part of his life. His Correspondence during that ])eriod will, in a great measure, supply the de- ficiency. It will be separated from the Memoirs and placed in an appendix, that those who are not disposed to be pleased with the repetitions, familiarities, and trivial circumstances of epistolary writing, may not be embarrassed by it. By many the letters will be found a very interesting part of the present publication. They will prove, how pleasant, friendly, and amiable Mr. Gibbon was in X ADVERTISEMENT TO private life ; and if, in publisliing letters so flat- tering to myself, I incur the imputation of vanity, I shall meet the charge with a frank confession, that I am indeed highly vain of having enjoyed, for so many years, the esteem, the confidence, and the affection of a man, whose social qualities en- deared liim to the most accomplished society, and whose talents, great as they were, must be acknow- ledged to have been fully equalled by the sincerity of his friendship. Whatever censure may be pointed against the Editor, the Public will set a due value on the letters for their intrinsic merit. I must, indeed, be blinded, either by vanity or affection, if they do not display the heart and mind of their author, in such a manner as justly to increase the number of his admirers. I have not been solicitous to garble or expunge passages which, to some, may appear trifling. Such passages will often, in the opinion of the observing reader, mark the character of the writer, and the omission of them would materially take from the ease and familiarity of authentic letters. Few men, I believe, have ever so fully unveiled their own character, by a minute narrative of their sentiments and pursuits, lis Mr. Gibbon will here be found to have done ; not with study and labour — not with an affected frankness —but with a genuine confession of liis little foibles and pecu- liarities, and a good-humoured and natural display of his own conduct and opinions. THE FIRST EDITION. XI Mr. Gibbon began a journal, a work distinct from tlie sketches ab'eady mentioned, in the early part of his life, with the following declaration : — " I propose from this day, August 24th, I76I, to keep an exact journal of my actions and studies, both to assist my memory, and to accustom me to set a due value on my time. I shall begin by setting down some few events of my past life, the dates of which I can remember." This industrious project he pursued occasionally in French, with the minuteness, fidelity, and libe- rality of a mind resolved to watch over and improve itself. The journal is continued under different titles, and is sometimes very concise, and sometimes singularly detailed. One part of it is entitled " My Journal," another '' Ephemerides, or Journal of my Actions, Studies, and Opinions." The other parts are entitled, " Ephemerides, ou Journal de ma Vie, de mes Etudes, et de mes Sentimens." In this journal, among the most trivial circumstances, are mixed very interesting observations and dissert- ations on a satire of Juvenal, a passage of Homer, or of Longinus, or of any other author whose works lie happened to read in the course of the day ; and he often passes from a remark on the most common event, to a critical disquisition of considerable learning, or an inquiry into some abstruse point of Philosophy. It certainly was not his intention that this pri- vate and motley diary should be presented to the Xll ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION. Public ; nor have I thought myself at Uberty to present it, in the shape in whicli lie left it. But when reduced to an account of his literary occupa- tions, it forms so singular and so interesting a por- trait of an indefatigable student, that I persuade myself it will be regarded as a valuable acquisition by the Literary World, and as an accession of fame to the memory of my Friend. With the extracts from Mr. Gibbon's journal will be printed, his dis- sertations, entitled " Extraits Raisonnes de mes Lectures :" and " Recueil de mes Observations, et Pieces detachees sur differens Sujets." A few other passages from other parts of the journals, introduced in notes, will make a curious addition to the Me- moirs. It remains only to express a wish, that in dis- charging this latest office of affection, my regard to the memory of my Friend may appear, as I trust it will do, proportioned to the high satisfaction which I enjoyed for many years in possessing his entire confidence, and very partial attachment. SHEFFIELD. Sheffield-Place, 6th Alls. 1795. CONTENTS. INTRODUCTION - . - - - Page 1 Notes and Additions - - - 7 CHAPTER I. Account and Anecdotes of the Author's Family. — South Sea Scheme, and thfe Bill of Pains and Penalties against the Directors ; among whom was the Author's Grandfather. — Character of Mr. William Law. - - - 13 Notes and Additions - - -30 CHAP. II. Mr. Gibbon's Birth ; he is put under the care of Mr. Kirkby ; some Account of Mr. Kirkby The Author is sent to Dr. Wooddeson's School, whence he is removed on the Death of his Mother. — Affectionate Observations on his Aunt, Mrs. Catharine Porten. — Is entered at Westminster School ; is removed on account of ill health, and afterwards placed under the care of the Rev. Mr. Francis - - 33 Notes and Additions - - - 53 CHAP. III. Enters a Gentleman Commoner at Magdalen College, Oxford. — Remarks on that University. — Some Account of Mag- dalen College. — Character of Dr. Waldegrave, Mr. Gibbon's first Tutor. — The Author determines to write an History ; its Subject. — Solution of a Chronological Difficulty. — Mr. Gibbon is converted to the Roman Catholic Religion ; cites the Examples of Chillingworth and Bayle ; their Cha- racters. — Mr. Gibbon obliged to leave Oxford. — Farther Remarks on the University - - -56 Notes and Additions . - .84 XIV CONTENTS. CHAP. IV. The Author is removed to Lausanne, and placed under the care of M. Pavilliard. — Reflections on his Change of Situation. — Character of M. Pavilliard, and an Account of his manner of restoring Mr. Gibbon to the Protestant Church. — Mr. Gibbon received the Sacrament in the Church of Lausanne on Christmas-day, 1754. — The Author's Account of the Books he read, and of the Course of Study he pursued. — Makes the Tour of Switzerland ; forms a Cor- respondence with several Literary Characters ; is introduced to Voltaire, and sees him perform several Characters in his own Plays. — Remarks on his Acting. — Some Account of Mademoiselle Curchod (afterwards Madame Necker) Reflections on his Education at Lausanne. — He returns to England! - - - - - Page 87 Notes AND Abditions - - - 115 CHAP. V. Mr. Gibbon's manner of spending his Time. — He publishes his first Work, Essai sur I' Etude de la Litterature. — Some Observations on the Plan, and the Character of the Perform- ance. — Character of Dr. Maty. — The Author's manner of passing his Time in the Hampshire Militia, and Reflections upon it. — He resumes his Studies; determines to write upon some Historical Subject ; considers various Subjects, and makes Remarks upon them for that purpose - 1 26 Notes and Additions - - - 160 CHAP. VL Mr. Gibbon sees Mallet's Elvira performed. — Character of that Play. — Passes some time at Paris, gives an Account of the Persons with whom he chiefly associated ; proceeds, through Dijon and Besan^on, to Lausanne. — Characterises a Society there, called La Socicte du Printems. — Becomes acquainted with Mr. Holroyd, now Lord Sheffield. — Re- marks on their Meeting. — Some Account of Mr. Gibbon's Studies at Lausanne, preparatory to his Italian Journey. — He travels into Italy ; his Feelings and Observations upon his Arrival at Home He returns to England - 170 Notes and Additions . _ - 185 CONTENTS. XV CHAP. VII. Mr. Gibbon's Reflections upon his Situation. — Some Account of his Friend M. Deyverdun. — He writes, and commu- dicates to his Friends, an Historical Essay upon the Liberty of the Swiss. — Their unfavourable Judgment. — Mr. Hume's Opinion. — Mr. Gibbon and M. Deyverdun engage in a Periodical Work, as a Continuation of Dr. Maty's Journal Britanniqiie ; entitled, Memoires Litteraires de la Grand Bretagne. — Account of the Work. — Mr. Gibbon publishes his Observations on the Vlth ^neid of Virgil, in opposition to Bishop Warbur ton's Hypothesis Mr. Heyne's and Mr. Hayley's Opinions of that Essay. — Mr. Gibbon determines to write the History of the Decline and Fall. — His preparatory Studies. — Reflections on his domestic Circumstances; his Father's Death and Character. Page 211 Notes and Additions - - - 230 CHAP. VIII. Mr. Gibbon settles in London. — Begins his History of the Decline and Fall. — Becomes a Member of the House of Commons. — Characters of the principal Speakers. — Pub- lishes his First Volume ; its Reception. — Mr. Hume's Opinion, in a Letter to the Author . - - - 237 Notes and Additions - - - - 244 CHAP. IX. Mr. Gibbon makes a Second Visit to Paris. — His Dispute with the Abbe Mably. — He enumerates and characterises the Writers who wrote against his 15th and 16th Chapters. — — By the Desire of Ministry, he writes the Memoire Justi- Jicatif. — By the Interest of Lord Loughborough is ap- pointed one of the Lords of Trade. — Publishes his Se- cond and Third Volumes of his History ; their Reception. — Mentions Archdeacon Travis's Attack upon him, and com- mends Mr. Person's Answer to the Archdeacon. — Notices also Bishop Newton's Censure. — Proceeds in his His- tory - - - - - 249 Notes and Additions _ - - 265 XVI CONTENTS. CHAP. X. Mr. Gibbon leaves London, and settles at Lausanne, in the House of his Friend M. Deyverdun ; his Reasons for doing so. — Reflections on his Change of Situation. — Short Cha- racters of Prince Henry of Prussia and of Mr. Fox, both of whom he sees at Lausanne. — Proceeds in, and finishes his History. — Interesting Remarks on concluding it. — Pays a Visit to Lord Sheffield in England. — Remarks on Lord Sheffield's Writings ; publishes the Remainder of his History . returns to Lausanne ; his manner of employing his Time — The Death of M. Deyverdun. — Observations of the Author upon the French Revolution, the Government of Berne, and his own Situation. — The Memoires end. Page 282 Notes and Additions - - Letters from Edward Gibbon, Esq. to the Right Hon. Lord Sheffield . - _ _ 313 Letters from Edward Gibbon, Esq. to Lord Sheffield and others - - - - 365 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WHITINGS. INTRODUCTION. In the fifty-second year of my age, after the com- pletion of an arduous and successful work, I now propose to employ some moments of my leisure in reviewing the simple transactions of a private and literary life. Truth, naked, unblushing truth, the first virtue of more serious history, must be the sole recommendation of this personal narrative. The style shall be simple and familiar : but style is the image of character ; and the habits of correct writing may produce, without labour or design, the appearance of art and study. My own amuse- ment is my motive, and will be my reward : and if these sheets are communicated to some discreet and indulgent friends, tliey will be secreted from the public eye till the author shall be removed be- yond the reach of critici.sm or ridicule.' 1 This passage is found in one only of the six sketches, and in that whicli seems to have been tlie first urilten, and whicli was laid aside among loose papers. Mr. Gibbon, in his connnunications with nie on B ^ MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. A lively desire of knowing and of recording our ancestors so generally prevails, that it must depend on the influence of some common principle in the minds of men. We seem to have lived in the per- sons of our forefathers ; it is the labour and reward of vanity to extend the term of this ideal longe- vity. Our imagination is always active to enlarge the narrow circle in which Nature has confined us. Fifty or an hundred years may be allotted to an individual ; but we step forward beyond death with such hopes as religion and philosophy will sug- gest ; and we fill up the silent vacancy that pre- cedes our birth, by associating ourselves to the authors of our existence. Our calmer judgment will rather tend to moderate, than to suppress, the the subject of his Memoirs, a subject which he had not mentioned to any other person, expressed a determination of publishing them in his lifetime ; ami never appears to have departed from that resolution, excepting in one of his letters annexed, in which he intimates a doubt, though rather carelessly, whether in his time, or at any time, they would meet the eye of the public. — In a conversation, however, not long before his death, I suggested to him that, if he should make them a full image of his mind, he would not have nerves to publish them, and therefore that they should be posthumous ; — He answered, rather eagerl}', that he was determined to publish them in his lifetime. — S.* * The late Lord Sheffield, by elaborate hand. I may venture, a clause in his will, positively pro- however, to bear my testimony to hibited the publication of any more the great judgment with which the out of the mass of Gibbon's papers late Lord Sheffield exercised his in the possession of his family, office of editor in this part of (Jib- By the kind favour of the present bon's works ; much has been re- Loril Sheffield 1 have been per- jected, in which the public would mitted (of course with the distinct not have felt the slightest interest ; understanding that the will of his and I ibund not above two or father should be rigidly respected) three sentences which I should to see these six sketches of the life, have wished to rescue from obli- written in Gibbon's own clear ami vion. — M. INTRODUCTION. 3 pride of an ancient and worthy race. The satirist * may laugh, the philosopher may preach ; but Rea- son herself will respect the prejudices and habits, which have been consecrated by the experience of mankind. Few there are who can sincerely de- spise in others, an advantage of which they are secretly ambitious to partake. The knowledge of our own family from a remote period, will be al- ways esteemed as an abstract pre-eminence, since it can never be promiscuously enjoyed ; but the longest series of peasants and mechanics would not afford much gratification to the pride of their de- scendant. We wish to discover our ancestors, but we wish to discover them, possessed of ample for- tunes, adorned with honourable titles, and holding an eminent rank in the class of hereditary nobles, which has been maintained for the wisest and most beneficial purposes, in almost every climate of the globe, and in almost every modification of political society. AVherever the distinction of birth is allowed to form a superior order in the state, education and example should always, and will often, produce among them a dignity of sentiment and propriety of conduct, which is guarded from dishonour by their own and the public esteem. If we read of some illustrious line so ancient that it has no be- ginning, so worthy that it ought to have no end, we sympathize in its various fortunes ; nor can we blame the generous enthusiasm, or even the harm- less vanity, of those who are allied to the honours * Gibbon probaI)ly alliulcs to tlie spIciiJitl eighth Satire of Juvenal. — M. B 2 4 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. of its name. For my own part, could I draw my pedigree from a general, a statesman, or a cele- brated author, I should study tlieir lives with the diligence of filial love. In the investigation of past events, our cm'iosity is stimulated by the im- mediate or indirect reference to ourselves ; but in the estimate of honour we should learn to value the gifts of Nature above those of Fortune ; to esteem in our ancestors the qualities that best pro- mote the interests of society ; and to pronounce the descendant of a king less truly noble than the off- spring of a man of genius, whose writings will in- struct or delight the latest posterity. The family of Confucius is, in my opinion, the most illustrious in the world. After a painful ascent of eight or ten centuries, our barons and })rinces of Eurojje are lost in the darkness of the middle ages ; but, in the vast equality of the empire of China, the posterity of Confucius (1) have maintained, above two thou- sand two hundred years, their peaceful honours and perpetual succession. The chief of the family is still revered, by the sovereign and the people, as the lively image of the wisest of mankind. The nobility of the Spencers has been illustrated and enriched by the trophies of Marlborough ; but I exhort them to consider the Fairi) Queen - as the most precious jewel of their coronet. Our immortal Fielding was of the younger branch of the Earls of Denbigh, who draw their origin Irom the Counts - Nor loss praiseworthy arc the hidies three, The lionoiir of that nol)le faiiiilie, Ol'wliiili I meanest l)oast mysc:lf to be. .SpKNCKK, Cvim Chid, cjjr. v. j38. INTRODUCTION. 5 of Habsburg, the lineal descendants of Eltrico, in the seventli century, Duke of Alsace. Far dif- ferent have been tlie fortunes of the English and (jerman divisions of the family of Habsburg : the former, the knights and sheriffs of Leicestershire, have slowly risen to the dignity of a peerage ; the latter, the Emperors of Germany, and Kings of Spain, have threatened the liberty of the old, and invaded the treasures of the new world. The suc- cessors of Charles the Fifth may disdain their brethren of England ; but the romance of Tom Jones, that exquisite picture of human manners, will outlive the palace of the Escurial, and the im- perial eagle of the house of Austria. That these sentiments are just, or at least natural, I am the more inclined to believe, as I am not myself interested in the cause ; for I can derive from my ancestors neither glory nor shame. Yet a sincere and simple narrative of my own life may amuse some of my leisure hours ; but it will subject me, and perhaps with justice, to the imputation of vanity. I may judge, however, from the experience both of past and of the present times, that the public are always curious to know the men, who have left behind them any image of their minds : the most scanty accounts of such men are compiled with dili- gence, and perused with eagerness; and the student of every class may derive a lesson, or an example, from the lives most similar to his own. My name may hereafter be placed among the thousand arti- cles of a Biographia Britannica ; and I must be con- scious, that no one is so well qualified, as myself, to describe the series of my thoughts and actions. The B 3 6 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. authority of my masters, of the grave Tliuaniis (2) , and the philosophic Hume (3), might be sufficient to justify my design ; but it would not be difficult to produce a long list of ancients and moderns, who, in various forms, have exhibited their own portraits. Such ])ortraits are often the most interesting, and sometimes the only interesting parts of their writings ; and, if they be sincere, we seldom com- plain of the minuteness or prolixity of these personal memorials. The lives of the younger Pliny (4), of Petrarch (.5), and of Erasmus (G), are expressed in the epistles, which they themselves have given to the world. The essays of Montaigne and Sir Wil- liam Temple (7) bring us home to the houses and bosoms of the authors : we smile without contempt at the headstrong passions of Benvenuto Cellini (8), and the gay follies of Colley Gibber (9). The con- fessions of St. Austin (10) and Rousseau(ll) disclose the secrets of the human heart : the commentaries of the learned Huet(12), have survived his evangeli- cal demonstration ; and the memoirs of Goldoni(13) are more truly dramatic than his Italian comedies. The heretic and tlie churchman are strongly marked in the ciiaracters and fortunes of Whiston (14) and Bishop Newton (15) ; and even the duln ess of Mi- chael de Marolles (16) and Anthony Wood (17) ac- quires some value from the faithful representation of men and manners. That I am equal or superior to some of these, the effects of modesty or affectation cannot force me to dissemble. INTROD. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. No. 1. page 4. In 1784-, seventy-one generations of this family had successively enjoyed the respect and veneration of the empire. Confucius, accord- ing to the usual chronology, died 479. B. C, nine years before the birth of Socrates. — Biographie Universelle, art. Confucius. No. 2. page 6. Jac. August. Thuani, de Vita sua, Libri sex. It is printed in the seventh volume of Buckley's Thuanus. The life of Thuanus partakes of the " gravity," which distinguishes his great historical work. It con- descends not to those minute and domestic details, or those lighter touches of character, which give its peculiar charm and value to auto- biography. The public man still keeps his state, and does not admit us into the privacy of his heart and feelings. The Latin verses, which are inserted, though occasionally incorrect, are extremely spirited and vigorous; and there are incidents, particularly the mysterious and significant manner of the king (Henry III.) on his parting from him previous to the murder at Blois, which illustrate the larger History, to which the Life is an indispensable supplement. No. 3. page 6. The sketch of his own life by David Hume is singularly interest- ing, as the key to his opinions and even to his style. Hume seems to have been endowed with the most remarkable coolness of temperament both in bod}' and mind. He glided through life without having expe- rienced, except on one occasion, a profound emotion, or known tlie power of strong sensation. To this inborn calmness, or almost torpidity of his nature, may be traced both the amiable and philosophic serenity of his life and manners, and the sceptical tendency of his opinions. He was supe- rior to, or at least exempt from, the ordinary disquietudes and anxieties which harass the man of letters. Failure did not depress, nor success elevate him above the usual equable level of his mind. As a writer, he was, as near as possible, a being of pure intellect. The disturbing forces of the imagination and the passions never for an instant interfered with the piercing sagacity of his judgments, or the microscopic pre- cision of his investigations. He had just fancy enough to give an agreeable vividness to his style, and to elevate him, at times, into a master in historic painting. Like an unruffled sheet of water, hi.s mind reflected every thing which passed over it with the most clear B 4 8 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. and exquisite distinctness. At the same time he was disqualified by this innate placidity for justly appreciating the force of those more violent emotions and loftier sentiments, which agitate mankind in ge- neral. He viewed human nature not as a man of " like passions," but as an inquiring metaphysician. Though with singular judgment he rarely intrudes the philosopher into the department of the historian, yet the same cast of mind, and even the same tone of language, prevail through- out his historical and philosophic writings. Hume's philosophy seems to delight in the process of inquiry, without caring whether it arrives at any definite or satisfactory conclusion. Suspense of mind, on those points on which doubt and uncertainty work up more sensitive and high-strung minds to insanity, did not cause to him the slightest uneasiness. He reposed as peaceably upon his doubts, as the most ardent enthusiast upon his fluth. Even the approacii of death did not affright his mind from its smooth propriety. He was content to await with incurious and unapprehensive patience the solution of the great mystery of all ; and in this singular man, incredulity, for once, almost rivalled the self-command of Christian resignation to the Divine will. No. 4. page G. Why did Gibbon, ascending so high as Pliny, stop short of Ci- cero ? In Cicero, he may have considered, that the public man so completely predominated over the man of letters, as to exclude him from the class of literary autobiographers ; or, did he retain in view the sentence which closes the paragraph, and prudently keep down the number of those to whom he could not consider himself equal or superior r* No. 5. page 6. The manner in which the character of Petrarch is developed in his Epistles, has no where been exhibited with greater truth and candour than in one of the " Essays on Petrarch," by the late Ugo Foscolo. No. 6. page 6. Jortin's Life of Erasmus (of which the outline is Le Clerc's) is scarcely more than a summary of the contents of his Letters, with occasional extracts illustrative of the character of the man and of his times. No. 7. page G. 1 should have been inclined to have chosen Cowley, rather than Sir W. Temple, as the English counterpart to the inimitable Mon- taigne. INTROD. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 9 No. 8. page G. (xibhon might have added the inordinate vanity of" that most amusing of autobiographers, the Italian artist. No. 9. page G. Gibber's letter to Pope must, of itself, command respect ; it is something, by temperate and candid expostulation, to have shamed a satirist into the acknowledgement of injustice. Notwithstanding his careless professional life, his laureateship, and his original position in the Dunciad, the good sense and right feeling of Cibber, as well as his comic talents, deserve to retrieve him from the ridicule which attaches to his name among those who only know him as the victim of Pope's satire. No. 10. page 6. As Rousseau evidently adopted the title of " Confessions " for his autobiography from the work of St. Augustine, so popular in all Roman Catholic countries, Gibbon could not, or rather had no wish to resist the temptation of classing together works of a character so opposite. If both disclose the secrets of the human heart, they show still more clearly how different is the state of that heart, no less from individual temperament and moral discipline, than from the influence of age or country. The comparison is far from unfavourable to Chris- tianity. St. Augustine's is the first work in which Christianity is faithfully pourtra3'ed as the one all-absorbing j:)assion of the soul. It is the intellectual and spiritual nature struggling to be free, but never entirely released from its old bondage. The Saint relates the excesses of his youth (deeply coloured, no doubt, by the monastic spirit which in his time pervaded Christianity) with profound contrition ; but still his divine love has something in its sentiment and expression, we will not say of sensualism, but scarcely of pure, awful, and reverential adora- tion. It is the same African temperament which has transferred the vehemence of its emotions to a different object. But the Confessions of St. Augustine is a book which cannot be read without an exalting, ennobling, and purifying effect. It is throughout serious and consistent in its style and sentiment, though not without some of the faults of his age. It is that of a man whose whole being is concentered in the moral perfection of his nature. Some of the passages, of domestic feeling relating to his mother, which are of exquisite beauty, and on the working of his own mind, rise to the force and truth of tragic eloquence ; while the view which it opens of the religious and intellectual character of the times, the nature of the dominant sects, the education, and all the social and religious influences, which struggled for the possession of a powerful and thougiitfui mind, are, in the highest degree, curious and 10 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. instructive. The Confessions of Kousseau is the most contradictory and painful book in the whole range of literature. It is the develop- ment of the animal nature, in language suited to the noblest and purest conceptions of the human mind. The cold, the serious, the laboured obscenit}' (for there were passages in the genuine editions too gross for the unfastidious eyes of his own age and country), the irritable and fretful vanity which constantly betrays itself, contrasted with the glow and elevation of the diction, produce a chilling mistrust, a withering suspicion, of all poetry and all eloquence. In Rousseau, likewise, all is serious and earnest, but all is cither contradictory or untrue : that which is mean, foul, and profligate, seems to come from the depths of the heart as much as the loftiest and purest sentiment ; but it is rather that the imagination has so completely habituated itself to speak the language of tlie feelings, that even when our eyes are opened, when we are disenchanted from the magic of the style, we can scarcely persuade ourselves that all those eloquent dreams of unattain- able virtue, those wild and distempered, but still eager yearnings after what is great and ennobling, are the mere creations of an ardent fancy, without any real kindred or communion with the moral being of the man. No. 1 1 . page 6. A parallel between the Confessions of St. Augustine and Rous- seau may be found in Schlosser's Universal Geschichte der alten Welt, vol. iii. part. •i. p. 53. et scq. M. Schlosser adds, that " Rousseau makes his Confession to the public, Augustine to God." No. 12. page 6. Iluetii Episcopi Abrancensis Commentarius de Rebus ad eum pertinentibus. This Latin autobiography of the cruilite bishop of Avranciies is now probably as little read as his theological works. It is the uneventful life of a scholar; occasional attacks of constitutional maladies, and some uneasiness at having become an object of Boileau's bitter satire, are the only incidents which diversify its serene course. Iluet lived on terms of close intimacy and mutual esteem with most of the learned men of his day, whose names he chronicles with elaborate fidelity. No. 13. page G. Gibbon has justly characterised the life of Goldoni as the most dramatic, it might almost be added, the most comic, of his works. It is singular that the autobiography of the great serious Dramatist of modern Italy should likewise display more of the elements of tragedy than his noble, but somewhat artificial, dramas. There is nothing in INTROD. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 11 literary autobiography more extraordinary or more elevating than the strengtii of purpose witii which Alficri, in despite of difficulties ap- parently insurmountable — a neglected education, a dissipated youth, the impurity of his native dialect, and even the impetuosity of his own passions, forced his way nevertheless to poetic fame, and created Italian tragedy. Yet we might have wished that his tragedy had more fre- quently breathed that free and vehement passion which distempered the life of Alfieri, and is expressed with so much truth and careless fidelit}' in his autobiography. No. H. page 6. Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Mr. William Whiston, written by himself, London, 1749. With scientific attainments not unworthy the disciple of Newton, with considerable theological know- ledge, with piety which supported him under neglect and poverty, Whiston applied his mathematic knowledge to calculate the time of the comet which was to produce the general conflagration, and the length of its taiL He assailed the established creed on the faith of docu- ments (the Apostolic Constitutions), without a shadow of pretence to authenticity ; yet the goodness and sincerity of the man obtained for him, even from those who ridiculed his whimsies, the name of" Honest Will Whiston." A little common sense, and a great deal less vanity, would have made Whiston, instead of the laughing-stock of the bright- est age of English wit, an ornament to the science and literature of his country. — M. , No. 15. page 6. The life of Dr. Thomas Newton, Lord Bishop of Bristol, is pre- fixed to his works, and has been republished with those of Pocock, Pearce, and Skelton, 2 vols, 8vo. 1816. Newton, the editor of Milton, the author of a work on the Prophecies, which maintains its popularity, was a decent prelate, of respectable learning, and an elegant taste for the Fine Arts. He kept steadily in view the upward course of preferment, and died Bishop of Bristol and Dean of St. Paul's. His biography is chiefly valuable for the anecdotes which it contains of the great men of his period, particularly of Pulteney, Earl of Bath, his chief patron, and some of the more distinguished churchmen, with whom he was in habits of intimacy. Gibbon (see Life) had particular reasons for hostility towai'ds Bishop Newton. No. 16. page 6. It is impossible to deny the palm in dulness to the Memoirs of Michael de Marolles, a Frenchman of learning, born A. D. 1600. These Memoires were reprinted in three small volumes in 175a. 12 MEMOIRS OF INTROD. No. 17. page 6. The biography of Anthony Wood may be found in tlie first volume of Dr. Bliss's reprint of the Athenae Oxonienses. It is a very singular picture of the life of an academic and an antiquarian ; a chronicle of all small things seen through the microscope of a small mind. I do not feel myself called upon either to make a selection, or to offer any observations on the literary autobiographies with which the press has teemed since the time of Gibbon. — M CHAP. I. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 13 CHAPTER I. Account and Anecdotes of the Author's Family. — SoutJi Sea Scheme, and the Bill of Pains and Penalties against the Directors ; among ivhom tvas the Author s Grandfather. — Character of Mr. William Law. My family is originally derived from the county of Kent. The southern district, which borders on Sussex and the sea, was formerly overspread with tlie great forest Anderida, and even now retains the denomination of the TVeald, or Woodland. In this district, and in the hundred and parish of Rolvenden, the Gibbons were possessed of lands in the year one thousand three himdredand twenty-six ; and the elder branch of the family, without much increase or diminution of property, still adheres to its native soil. Fourteen years after the first ap- pearance of his name, John Gibbon is recorded as the Marmorarius or architect of King Edward the Third: the strong and stately castle of Queens- borough, which guarded the entrance of the Medway, was a monument of his skill ; and the grant of an hereditary toll on the passage from Sandwich to Stonar, in the Isle of Thanet, is the reward of no vulgar artist. In the visitations of the heralds, tlie Gibbons are frequently mentioned : they held the rank of Esquire in an age when that title was less promiscuously assumed: one of tliem, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, was ca})tain of the militia of Kent j and a free school, in tlie neigh- 14 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. I. bouring town of Benenden, proclaims the chanty and o])ulcnce of its founder. But time, or their own obscurity, has cast a veil of oblivion over the virtues and vices of my Kentish ancestors ; their character or station confined them to the labours and pleasures of a rural life : nor is it in my power to follow the advice of the poet, in an inquiry after a name — " Go ! search it there, where to be born, and die, Of rich and poor makes all the history," so recent is the institution of our parish registers. In the beginning of the seventeenth century, a younger branch of the Gibbons of Rolvenden mi- grated from the country to the city ; and from this branch I do not blush to descend. The law re- quires some abilities ; the church imposes some re- straints ; and before our army and navy, our civil establishments, and India empire, had opened so many paths of fortune, the mercantile profession was more frequently chosen by youths of a liberal race and education, who aspired to create their own independence. Our most respectable families have not disdained the counting-house, or even the shop; their names are inrolled in the Livery and Companies of London ; and in England, as well as in the Italian commonwealths, heralds have been compelled to declare, that gentihty is not degraded by the exercise of trade. The armorial ensigns which, in the times of chi- valry, adorned the crest and shield of the soldier, are now become an empty decoration, which every man, who has money to build a carriage, may paint according to his fancy on the panels. My family arms arc the same, which were borne by the CHAP. 1. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 15 Gibbons of Kent in an age, when the College of Heralds religiously guarded the distinctions of blood and name : a lion rampant gardant, between three schallop-shells Argent, on a field Azure. ^ I should not however have been tempted to blazon my coat of arms, were it not connected with a whimsical anecdote. — About the reign of James the First, the three harmless schallop-shells were changed by Edmund Gibbon, Esq. into three Ogresses, or female cannibals, with a design of stigmatizing three ladies, his kinswomen, who had provoked him by an unjust lawsuit. But this sin- gular mode of revenge, for which he obtained the sanction of Sir William Seagar, king at arms, soon expired with its author; and, on his own monument in the Temple church, the monsters vanish, and three schallop-shells resume their proper and here- ditary place. Our alliances by marriage it is not disgraceful to mention. The chief honour of my ancestry is James Fiens, Baron Say and Seale, and Lord High Treasurer of England in the reign of Henry the Sixth ; from whom by the Phelips, the Whetnalls, and the Cromers, I am lineally descended in the eleventh degree. His dismission and imprison- ment in the Tower were insufficient to appease the popular clamour; and the Treasurer, with his son- in-law Cromer, was beheaded (1450), after a mock trial by the Kentish insurgents. The black list of his offences, as it is exhibited in Shakspeare, dis- plays the ignorance and envy of a plebeian tyrant. 1 The f'atlicr of Lord Cluuiccllor llardwicke married an heiress of this family of Gibbon. The Chancellor's escutclieon in the Temple Hall qnarters the arms of (jibbon, as docs also that, in Lincoln's Iini Hall, of Charles Yorke, Chancellor in 1770.-S. 16 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. 1. Besides the vague reproaches of selling Maine and Normandy to the Dauphin, the Treasurer is spe- cially accused of luxury, for riding on a foot-cloth, and of treason, for speaking French, the language of our enemies : " Thou hast most traiterously corrupted the youth of the realm," says Jack Cade to the unfortunate Lord, " in erecting a grammar- school ; and whereas before, our forefathers had no other books than the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used ; and, contrary to the king, his crown, and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill. It will be proved to thy face, that thou hast men about thee, who usually talk of a noun and a verb, and such abominable words, as no christian ear can endure to hear." Our dra- matic poet is generally more attentive to character than to history ; and I much fear that the art of printing was not introduced into England till several years after Lord Say's death : but of some of these meritorious crimes I should hope to find my ancestor guilty ; and a man of letters may be proud of his descent from a patron and martyr of learning. In the beginning of the last century, Robert Gib- bon, Esq. of Rolvenden in Kent" (who died in 1618), had a son of the same name of Robert, who settled in London and became a member of the Clothworkers' Company. His wife was a daughter - Robert Gibl)on, my lineal ancestor, in the fiftii degree, was captain of the Kcntisii militia, and as he died in the year 1618, it may be pre- sumed that he had appeared in arms at the time of the S|)anis]i invasion. His wife was Margaret Phillips, dangiUer of Etiward Phillips dc la Weld ill TeiitLrden, and of Hose his wife, daugiiter of (ieorge Whitnell, of East IVckhaiii, Esquire. Pcikham, tlic .seat of tlie Whitnells of Kent, is mentioned, not indeed mncii to its hononr, in the Mempires du Comte de (Traminont, a classic work, the delight of every man and woman of taste to whom the French langnagc is familiar. CHAP. I. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 17 of the Edgars, who flourished about four hun- dred years in the county of Suffolk, and produced an eminent and wealthy serjeant-at-law, Sir Gre- gory Edgar, in the reign of Henry the Seventh. Of the sons of Robert Gibbon (who died in 1643), Matthew did not aspire above the station of a linen-draper in Leadenhall-street ; but John lias given to the public some curious memorials of his existence, his character, and his family. He was born on the 3d of November, in the year 1629; his education was liberal, at a grammar-school, and afterwards in Jesus College at Cambridge; and he celebrates the retired content which he enjoyed at Allesborough in Worcestershire, in the house of Thomas Lord Coventry, where he was employed as a domestic tutor. But the spirit of my kinsman soon immerged into more active life ; he visited foreign countries as a soldier and a traveller; ac- quired the knowledge of the French and Spanish languages; passed some time in the Isle of Jersey; crossed the Atlantic, and resided upwards of a twelvemonth (1659) in the rising colony of Vir- ginia. In this remote province his taste, or rather passion, for heraldry found a singular gratification at a war-dance of the native Indians. As they moved in measured steps, brandishing their toma- hawks, his curious eye contemplated their little shields of bark, and their naked bodies, which were painted with the colours and symbols of his favourite science. " At which (says he) I ex- ceedingly wondered ; and concluded that heraldry was ingrafted naturally into the sense of human race. If so, it deserves a greater esteem than c 18 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. T. now-a-days is put upon it." His return to England after the restoration was soon followed by his mar- riage — his settlement in a house in St. Catherine's Cloyster, near the Tower, which devolved to my grandfatlier — and his introduction into the Heralds' College (in I67I) by the style and title of Blue- mantle Pursuivant at Arms. In this office he en- joyed near fifty years the rare felicity of uniting, in the same pursuit, his duty and inclination : his name is remembered in the College, and many of his letters are still preserved. Several of the most respectable characters of the age, Sir AVilliam Dug- dale, Mr. Ashmole, Dr. John Betts, and Dr. Nehe- miah Grew, were his friends; and in the society of such men, John Gibbon may be recorded without disgrace as the member of an astrological club. The study of hereditary honours is favourable to the Royal prerogative ; and my kinsman, like most of his family, was a high Tory both in church and state. In the latter end of the reign of Charles the Second, his pen was exercised in the cause of the Duke of York : the Republican faction he most cordially detested; and as each animal is con- scious of its proper arms, the herald's revenge was emblazoned on a most diabolical escutcheon. But the triumph of the Whig government checked the preferment of Blue-mantle ; and he was even sus- pended from his office till his tongue could learn to pronounce the oath of abjuration. His life was prolonged to the age of ninety ; and in the ex- pectation of the inevitable though uncertain hour, he wishes to preserve the blessings of health, com- petence, and virtue. In the year 1682 he pub- CHAP. I. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 19 lished at London his Introductio ad Latinam Bla- soniam, an original attempt, which Camden had desiderated, to define, in a Roman idiom, tlie terms and attributes of a Gothic institution. It is not two years since I acquired, in a foreign land, some domestic intelHgence of my own family ; and this intelligence was conveyed to Switzerland from the heart of Germany. I had formed an acquaintance with Mr. Longer, a lively and ingenious scholar, while he resided at Lausanne as preceptor to the Hereditary Prince of Brunswick. On his return to his proper station of Librarian to the Ducal Library of Wolfenbuttel, he accidentally found among some literary rubbish a small old English volume of heraldry, inscribed with the name of John Gibbon. From the title only Mr. Langer judged that it might be an acceptable present to his friend ; and he judged rightly. His manner is quaint and affected ; his order is confused : but he displays some wit, more reading, and still more en- thusiasm ; and if an enthusiast be often absurd, he is never languid. An English text is perpetually interspersed with Latin sentences in prose and verse ; but in his own poetry he claims an exemp- tion from the laws of prosody. Amidst a profu- sion of genealogical knowledge, my kinsman could not be forgetful of his own name ; and to him T am indebted for almost the whole information con- cerning the Gibbon family."^ From this small work (a duodecimo of one hundred and sixty-five 3 Mr. Gibbon seems, after this was written, to have collected much additional information respecting his family ; as appears from a number of manuscripts in my possession. — S. (1) c 2 20 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. I. pages) the author expected immortal fame ; and, at the conclusion of his labour, he sings, in a strain of self-exultation : — " Usque hue corrigitur Romana Blasonia per me; Vcrborumque dchinc barbara forma cadat. Hie liber, in meritum si forsitan inciJet usum, Testis rite mea.' sedulitatis erit. Quicquid agat Zoilus, veutura fatebitur aetas Artis quod fueram non Clypearis inops." Such are the hopes of authors ! In the failure of those hopes John Gibbon has not been the first of his profession, and very possibly may not be the last of his name. His brother, Matthew Gibbon, the draper, had one daughter and two sons — my grandfather Edward, who was born in the year 16G6, and Thomas, afterwards Dean of Carlisle. According to the mercantile creed, that the best book is a profitable ledger, the writings of John the herald would be much less precious than those of his nephew Edward : but an author professes at least to write for the public benefit ; and the slow balance of trade can be pleasing to those persons only to whom it is advantageous. The successful industry of my grandfather raised him above the level of his immediate ancestors ; he appears to have launched into various and extensive dealings : even his opinions were subordinate to his interest ; and I find him in Flanders clothing King WilHam's troops, while he would have contracted with more pleasure, though not perhaps at a cheaper rate, for the service of King James. During his residence abroad, his concerns at home were managed by his mother Hester, an active and notable woman. Her CHAP. I. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 21 second husband was a widower, of the name of Acton : they united the children of their first nup- tials. After his marriage with the daughter of llichard Acton, goldsmith in Lcadenhall-street, he gave his own sister to Sir Whitmorc Acton, of Al- dcnham ; and I am thus connected, by a triple alliance, with that ancient and loyal family of Shropshire baronets. It consisted about that time of seven brothers, all of gigantic stature ; one of whom, a j^igmy of six feet two inches, confessed himself the last and the least of the seven ; adding, in the true spirit of party, that such men were not born since the Revolution. Under the Tory ad- ministration of the four last years of Queen Anne (1710—1714), Mr. Edward Gibbon was appointed one of the Commissioners of the Customs ; he sat at that Board with Prior : but the merchant was better qualified for his station than the poet ; since Lord Bolingbroke has been heard to declare, that he had never conversed with a man, who more clearly understood the commerce and finances of England. In the year 17 16 he was elected one of the Di- rectors of the South Sea Company ; and his books exhibited the proof that, before his acceptance of this fatal office, he had acquired an independent fortune of sixty thousand pounds. But his fortune w^as overwhelmed in the ship- wreck of the year twenty, and the labours of thirty years were blasted in a single day. Of the use or abuse of the South Sea scheme, of the guilt or in- nocence of my grandfather and his brother Di- rectors, I am neither a competent nor a disinterested judge. Yet the equity of modern times must con- c 3 22 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. I. demn tlie violent and arbitrary proceedings, which would have disgraced the cause of justice, and would render injustice still more odious. No sooner had the nation awakened from its golden dream, than a popular and even a parliamentary- clamour demanded their victims : but it was ac- knowledged on all sides that the South Sea Di- rectors, however guilty, could not be touched by any known laws of the land. The speech of Lord Molesworth, the author of The State of Denmark, may show the temper, or rather the intemper- ance of the House of Commons. *' Extraordinary crimes (exclaimed that ardent Whig) call aloud for extraordinary remedies. Tlie Roman lawgivers had not foreseen the possible existence of a parri- cide : but as soon as the first monster appeared, he was sown in a sack, and cast headlong into the river ; and I shall be content to inflict the same treatment on the authors of our present ruin."* His motion was not literally adopted ; but a bill of pains and penalties was introduced, a retroactive statute, to punish the offences, which did not exist at tlie time they were committed. Such a perni- cious violation of liberty and law can be excused only by the most imperious necessity ; nor could * Lord Mahon's account of this could be practised upon them, transaction (History of England , This should not have been for- froMi the Peace of Utrecht, vol, ii, gotten when the day of disap- p. 4. 35.) is clear, judicious, and pointmcnt came ; but, when a tlispassionate. " That there was people is suffering severely, from some knavery to punish I tlo not whatever cause, it always looks deny, and I shall presently show, round for a victim, and too often It seems to me, however, that the strikes the first it finds." P. 20. nation had suffered infinitely more Lord Mahon, by an oversight, has bytheir own self-willed infatuation, written the father, instead of the than by any frautl that was or grandfather, of Gibbon. CHAP. I. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 23 it be defended on this occasion by the plea of im- pending danger or useful example. The legislature restrained the persons of the Directors, imposed an exorbitant security for their appearance, and marked their characters with a previous note of ignominy : they were compelled to deliver, upon oath, the strict value of their estates ; and were disabled from making any transfer or alienation of any part of their property. Against a bill of pains and penalties it is the common right of every sub- ject to be heard by his counsel at the bar : they prayed to be heard ; their prayer was refused ; and their oppressors, who required no evidence, would listen to no defence. It had been at first proposed that one-eighth of their respective estates should be allowed for the future support of the Directors ; but it was speciously urged, that in the various shades of opulence and guilt, such an unequal pro- portion would be too light for many, and for some might possibly be too heavy. The character and conduct of each man were separately weighed ; but, instead of the calm solemnity of a judicial in- quiry, the fortune and honour of three and thirty Englishmen were made the topic of hasty conver- sation, the sport of a lawless majority ; and the basest member of the committee, by a malicious word or a silent vote, might indulge his general spleen or personal animosity. Injury was aggra- vated by insult, and insult was embittered by pleasantry. Allowances of twenty pounds, or one shilling, were facetiously moved. A vague report that a Director had formerly been concerned in another project, by which some unknown persons c 4 24 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. I. had lost, tlieir money, was admitted as a proof of his actual guilt. One man was ruined because he had dropt a foolish speech, that his horses should feed upon gold ; another because he was grown so proud, that, one day at the Treasury, lie had refused a civil answer to persons much above him. All were condemned, absent and unheard, in arbitrary fines and forfeitures, which swept away the greatest part of their substance. Such bold oppression can scarcely be shielded by the omnipotence of parlia- ment(2): and yet it may be seriously questioned, whether the Judges of the South Sea Directors were the true and legal representatives of their country. The first parliament of George the First had been chosen (1715) for three years : the term had elapsed, their trust was expired ; and the four additional years (1718—172:2), during which they continued to sit, were derived not from the people, but from themselves ; from the strong measure of the Septennial Bill, which can only be paralleled by il serrar di consiglio of the Venetian history. * Yet candour will own that to the same parliament every Englishman is deeply indebted : the Septen- nial Act, so vicious in its origin, has been sanctioned by time, experience, and the national consent. Its first operation secured the House of Hanover on the throne, and its permanent influence maintains the peace and stability of government. As often as a repeal has been moved in the House of Com- mons, I have given in its defence a clear and con- scientious vote. * Coni|)are Dam, llistoirc de Venise, liv. vi. torn. i. p. 515. 520, CHAP. I. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 25 My grandfather could not expect to be treated with more lenity than his companions. His Tory principles and connections rendered him obnoxious to the ruling powers : his name is reported in a suspicious secret; and his well-known abilities could not plead the excuse of ignorance or error. In the first proceedings against the South Sea Directors, Mr. Gibbon is one of the few who were taken into custody ; and, in the final sentence, the measure of his fine proclaims him eminently guilty. The total estimate which he delivered on oath to the House of Commons amounted to one hundred and six thousand five hundred and forty-three pounds, five shillings, and sixpence, exclusive of antecedent settlements. Two different allowances of fifteen and of ten thousand pounds were moved for Mr. Gibbon ; but, on the question being put, it was carried without a division for the smaller sum. On these ruins, with the skill and credit, of which par- liament had not been able to despoil him, my grandfather at a mature age erected the edifice of a new fortune : the labours of sixteen years were amply rewarded ; and I have reason to believe that the second structure was not much inferior to the first. He had realized a very considerable property in Sussex, Hampshire, Buckinghamshire, and the New River Company ; and had acquired a spacious house ^ with gardens and lands, at Putney, in Surry, where he resided in decent hospitality. He ■» Since inhabited by Mr. Wood, Sir John Shelley, the Duke of Norfolk, &c.— S * * This house has since this time ton, the banker, and now by been occupied by Mr. Kensing- Fletcher, Esq. 26 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. I. died ill December, 1736, at the age of seventy ; and by his last will, at the expense of Edward, his only son (wdth whose marriage he was not perfectly reconciled), enriched his two daughters, Catherine and Hester. The former became the wife of Mr. Edward Elliston : their daughter and heiress, Ca- therine, was married in the year 17^6 to Edward Eliot, Esq. (now Lord Eliot), of Port Eliot, in the county of Cornwall ; and their three sons are my nearest male relations on the father's side. A life of devotion and celibacy was the choice of my aunt, Mrs. Hester Gibbon, who, at the age of eighty-five, still resides in a hermitage at Cliffe, in Northamp- tonshire ; having long survived her spiritual guide and faithful companion, Mr. William Law, who, at an advanced age, about tlie year 1761, died in her house.(3) In our family he had left the reputation of a worthy and pious man, who believed all that he professed, and practised all that he enjoined. The character of a nonjuror, which he maintained to the last, is a sufficient evidence of his principles in church and state ; and the sacrifice of interest to conscience will be always respectable. His theological writings, which our domestic connection has tempted me to peruse, preserve an imperfect sort of life, and I can pronounce with more confidence and knowledge on the merits of the author. His last compositions are darkly tinctured by the incomprehensible visions of Jacob Behmen ; and his discourse on the ab- solute unlawfulness of stage-entertainments is some- times quoted for a ridiculous intemperance of sen- timent and language. — " The actors and spectators must all be damned : the playhouse is the porch of CHAP. I. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS, ^7 IIcl], tlie place of the Devil's abode, where he holds his filthy court of evil spirits : a play is the Devil's triumph, a sacrifice performed to his glory, as much as in the heathen temples of Bacchus or Venus, &c. Sec." But these sallies of religious phrensy must not extinguish the praise, which is due to Mr. William Law as a wit and a scholar. His ar- gument on topics of less absurdity is specious and acute, his manner is lively, his style forcible and clear ; and, had not his vigorous mind been clouded by enthusiasm, he might be ranked with the most agreeable and inoenious writers of the times. While the Bangorian controversy was a fashionable theme, he entered the lists on the subject of Christ's kingdom, and the authority of the priesthood : against the plain account of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper he resumed the combat with Bishop Hoadley, the object of Whig idolatry and Tory abhorrence ; and at every weapon of attack and defence, the nonjuror, on the ground which is common to both, approves himself at least equal to the prelate. On the appearance of the Fable of the Bees, he drew his pen against the licentious doctrine that private vices are public benefits, and morality as well as religion must join in his applause. Mr. Law's master-work, the Serious Cally is still read as a popular and powerful book of devotion. His precepts are rigid, but they are founded on the gospel : his satire is sharp, but it is drawn from the knowledge of human life ; and many of his portraits are not unworthy of the pen of La Bruyere. If he finds a spark of piety in his reader's mind, he will soon kindle it to a flame ; and a philosopher must 28 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. I. allow that he exposes, with equal severity'and truth, the strano'c contradiction between the faith and practice of the Christian world. Under the names of Flavia and Miranda he has admirably described my two aunts — the heathen and the Christian sister.* My father, Edward Gibbon, was born in October, 1707 : at the age of thirteen he could scarcely feel that he was disinherited by act of parliament ; and, as he advanced towards manhood, new prospects of fortune opened to his view. A parent is most attentive to supply in his children the deficiencies of which he is conscious in himself: my grand- father's knowledge was derived from a strong un- derstanding, and the experience of the ways of men ; but my father enjoyed the benefits of a liberal education as a scholar and a gentleman. At West- minster School, and afterwards at Emanuel College in Cambridge, he passed through a regular course of academical discipline ; and the care of his learning and morals was entrusted to his private tutor, the same Mr. William Law. But the mind of a saint is above or below the present world; and while the pupil proceeded on his travels, the tutor re- mained at Putney, the much-honoured friend and spiritual director of the whole family. My father resided some time at Paris to acquire the fashion- * These characters are too long fair in his estimate of Law ; but his for insertion in the notes. Serious admission that the asceticism of Call, ch. 7, 8, 9. Law was founded on the gospel, On the life and writings of Mr. was biassed, no doubt, by his dis- Law, see Nicholls' Literary Ancc- inclination to allow genuine Chris- dotes, ix. 51 G. tianity to have any claim to be con- Gibbon, on the whole, has been sidered as rational religion. — M. CHAP. I. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 29 able exercises j and as his temper was warm and social, he indulged in those pleasures for which the strictness of his former education had given him a keener relish. He afterwards visited several provinces of France ; but his excursions were nei- ther long nor remote ; and the slender knowledge, which he had gained of the French language, was gradually obliterated. His passage through Be- san9on is marked by a singular consequence in the chain of human events. In a dangerous illness Mr. Gibbon was attended, at his own request, by one of his kinsmen of the name of Acton, the younger brother of a younger brother, who had applied himself to the study of physic. During the slow recovery of his patient, the physician himself was attacked by the malady of love : he married his mistress, renounced his country and religion, settled at Besan9on, and became the father of three sons ; the eldest of whom, General Acton, is con- spicuous in Europe as the principal Minister of the King of the Two Sicilies. By an uncle whom another stroke of fortune had transplanted to Leghorn, he was educated in the naval service of the Emperor ; and his valour and conduct in the command of the Tuscan frigates protected the retreat of the Spaniards from Algiers. On my father's return to England he was chosen, in the general election of 1734, to serve in parliament for the borough of Petersfield ; a burgage tenure, of which my grandfather possessed a weighty share, till he alienated (I know not why) such important property. In the opposition to Sir Robert Walpole and the Pelhams, prejudice and society connected 30 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. his son with the Tories, — shall I say Jacobites ; or, as they were pleased to style themselves, the country gentlemen ? With them he gave many a vote ; with them he drank many a bottle. With- out acquiring the fame of an orator or a statesman, he eagerly joined in the great opposition, which, after a seven years' chase, hunted down Sir Robert Walpole : and in the pursuit of an unpopular minister, he gratified a private revenge against the oppressor of his family in the South Sea perse- cution. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. No. 1. page 19. In the Autobiography of Sir Egcrton Brydges appears a letter from Gibbon to that gentleman, who was his cousin, and had written some articles relating to their common genealogy in the " Gentleman's Magazine," 1788. On this letter Sir Egerton observes: — "It is a very unaccountable thing that Gibbon was so ignorant of the immediate branch of his family whence he sprung. They had been entered in the visitation book of Kent by the heralds in 16G3 ; but Mattliew, the historian's great-grandfather, was then only about twenty-one years old. His elder half-brother, Thomas, was then raai-ried to a sister of Sir William Rooke, of Horton. Their father, Thomas, survived till about 1084, being then more than eighty years old. lie had married a third wife, and removed to Ilartlip, near Sittingbourne, her property. He probably resigned the residence at West Cliff to his son Thomas. 1 can trace no descendants of Thomas, the son, beyond the end of that century ; perhaps they fell into obscurity. I never heard any tradition of them." Brydges' Autobiography, 1. 237. Gibbon had not the courage to give to the world his " Auto- biography," during his life. He was a wonderful man ; but he had many vanities, and some weaknesses. Colman has given a curious por- trait of him, as inserted in a note of Crokcr's Boswell. Rich as he CHAP. I. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 31 was in erudition, and surely in genius — for wliat but genius could have put together in so luminous a manner such an incredible extent of chaotic materials? — he yet was in his manners and person a finical coxcomb. He lived in an age of ceremonials, which have now passed away ; and he had a silly desire to be thought a man of fashion and a fine gentleman ; a mean ambition for a man of such a splendid and ac- complished mind. But these little passions were superseded by more noble ones ; and he retired with an elevated courage to Lausanne to spend his latter days in literature and his own thoughts, amid the beau- tiful scenery of Switzerland, and on the banks of the sublime Geneva lake. His Memoirs are pleasing, and will always be an instructive re- cord of indefatigable literary toil ; but they are not, to my taste, of the highest class of memoirs : they partake a little of the quaintness of the author's manners ; he appears too much in his full dress. They want energy and simplicity, and frankness and high bursts of eloquence. His father appears to have been a vain man, of feeble resolution and morbid feelings. He was himself vain of his birth, but he knew little of the history of his family beyond his grandfather ; his great-grandfather having moved out of Kent, where all his ancestors had lived, the link was nearly lost. When young, I suppose, he had no curiosity about those things ; for my father, when he dined at Wootton, about 1761, could have given him the whole history. He would have been interested by the story of the derivation of old John Randolph, the American president, whose death has been announced within the present month (July, 1833). I do not recollect that the historian mentions the con- nexion of his family with the Yorkes (?), of whom he would have been justly proud. Charles Yorke, who died at the moment of accepting the seals of chancellor (1770), was a man of beautifully intellectual character. Lord Chancellor Hardwicke's mother was, as I have said before, a Gibbon, and the widow of my great-grandfather, Edward Gibbon, who was her cousin. I have a few letters of Charles Yorke to my father, but they are of no importance. Brydges' Autobiography, 11. 17. No. 2. page 24. If we blame the conduct of parliament towards these unhappy men, we shall find that their contemporaries also complained of it. But it was for the exactly opposite reason. We may think such proceedings harsh and cruel : they thought them shamefully lenient. Petitions had been pouring in from all parts of the country, praying for " con- dign punishment " on these " monsters of pritle and covetousness," — " the cannibals of Change Alley," — "the infamous betrayers of their country." One worthy representative laments the sad grievance that, after all, there will be nobody's blood shed ; and in pamphlets of the 32 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. I. day, I read such expressions as, " If you ask what monsters as they " arc should be done with, then the answer is short and easy — hang *' them ! for, whatever they deserve, I would have no new tortures " invented, nor any new deaths devised. In this I think I show mode- " ration. Let them only be hanged, but hanged speedily." Lord Mahon, p. 33. No. 3. page 26. Gibbon mentions an interview with Mrs. Hester Gibbon in a letter to his mother-in-law. " Guess my surprise, when Mrs. Gibbon of Northamptonshire sud- denly communicated her arrival. I immediately went to Surrey-street, where she lodged ; but though it was no more than half an hour after nine, the Saint had finished her evening devotions, and was already retired to rest. Yesterday morning (by appointment) I breakfasted with her at eight o'clock, dined with her to-day at two in Newman-street, and am just returned from setting her down. She is, in truth, a very great curiosity : her dress and figure exceed any thing we had at the masquerade : her language and ideas belong to the last century. How- ever, in point of religion she was rational ; that is to say, silent. I do not believe that she asked a single question, or said the least thing con- cerning it. To me she behaved with great cordiality, and ?« her way expressed a great regard." CHAP. II. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 33 CHAP. II. Mr. Gibbon's birth ; he is put under the care of Mr. Kirkby; some Account of Mr. Kirkby. — The Author is sent to Dr. JVooddeson's School, whence he is removed on the death of his Mother. — Affectionate Observations on his Aunt, Mrs. Catharine Porten. — Is entered at Westminster School; is removed on account of ill health, and afterivards placed under the care of the Rev. Mr. Francis. I WAS born at Putney, in the county of Surry, the 27th of April, O. S., in the year one thousand seven hundred and thirty-seven ; the first child of the marriage of Edward Gibbon, Esq. and of Judith Porten.' My lot might have been that of a slave, a savage, or a peasant ; nor can I reflect without pleasure on the bounty of Nature, which cast my birth in a free and civilized country, in an age of science and philosophy, in a family of honourable rank, and decently endowed with the gifts of fortune. From my birth I have enjoyed the right of primogeniture ; but I was succeeded by five brothers and one sister, all of whom were snatched > The union to which I owe my birth was a marriage of inclinatioa and esteem. Mr. James Porten, a merchant of London, resided with his family at Putney, in a house adjoining to the bridge and church- yard, where I have" passed many happy hours of my childhood. He left one son (the late Sir Stanier Porten) and three daughters : Ca- therine, who preserved her maiden name, and of whom I shall hereafter speak ; another daughter married Mr. Barrel of Kichmond, and left two sons, Edward and Robert : the youngest of the three sisters was Judith, my mother. — S. D 34f MEMOIRS OF CHAP. II. away in tlieir infancy. My five brothers, whose names may be found in the parisli register of Putney, I shall not pretend to lament : but from my childhood to the present hour I have deeply and sincerely regretted my sister, whose life was somewhat prolonged, and whom I remember to have seen an amiable infant. The relation of a brother and a sister, especially if they do not marry, appears to me of a very singular nature. It is a familiar and tender friendship with a female, much about our own age ; an affection perhaps softened by the secret influence of sex, but pure from any mixture of sensual desire, the sole species of Platonic love that can be indulged with truth, and without danger. At the general election of 1741, Mr. Gibbon and Mr. Delme stood an expensive and successful contest at Southampton, against Mr. Dummer and Mr. Henly, afterwards Lord Chancellor and Earl of Northington. The Whig candidates had a ma- jority of the resident voters ; but the corporation was firm in the Tory interest : a sudden creation of one hundred and seventy new freemen turned the scale; and a supply was readily obtained of respect- .able volunteers, who flocked from all parts of England to support the cause of their political friends. The new parliament opened with the victory of an opposition, wliich was fortified by strong clamour and strange coalitions. From the event of the first divisions, kSir Robert Walpole perceived that he could no longer lead a majority in the House of Commons, and prudently resigned (after a dominion of one and twenty years) the CHAP. II. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 35 guidance of the state (1712). But the fall of an unpopular minister was not succeeded, according to general expectation, hy a millennium of happiness and virtue : some courtiers lost their places, some patriots lost their characters. Lord Orford's offences vanished with his power ; and after a short vibra- tion, the Pelham government was fixed on the old basis of the Whig aristocracy. In the year 17i'5> the throne and the constitution were attacked by a rebellion, which does not reflect much honour on the national spirit ; since the English friends of the Pretender wanted courage to join his standard, and his enemies (the bulk of the people) allowed him to advance into the heart of the kingdom. With- out daring, perhaps without desiring, to aid the rebels, my father invariably adhered to the Tory opposition. In the most critical season he accepted, for the service of the party, the office of alderman in the city of London : but the duties were so re- pugnant to his inclination and habits, that he re- signed his gown at the end of a few months. The second parliament in which he sate was prematurely dissolved (17^7) '• and as he was unable or unwilling to maintain a second contest for Southampton, the life of the senator expired in that dissolution. The death of a new-born child before that of its parents may seem an unnatural, but it is strictly a probable event : since of any given number the greater part are extinguished before their ninth year, before they possess the faculties of the mind or body. Without accusing the profuse waste or imperfect workmanship of Nature, I shall only D 2 36 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. 11. observe, that this unfavourable chance was multi- ])lied against my infant existence. So feeble was my constitution, so precarious my life, that, in the baptism of my brothers, my father's prudence suc- cessively repeated my christian name of Edward, that, in case of the departure of the eldest son, this patronymic appellation might be still perpetuated in the family. Uno avulso non deficit alter. To preserve and to rear so frail a being, the most tender assiduity was scarcely sufficient ; and my mother's attention was somewhat diverted by her frequent pregnancies, by an exclusive passion for her husband, and by the dissipation of the world, in which his taste and authority obliged her to mingle. But the maternal office was supplied by my aunt, Mrs. Catherine Porten ; at whose name I feel a tear of gratitude trickling down my cheek. 'A life of celibacy transferred her vacant affection to her sister's first child : my weakness excited her pity ; her attachment was fortified by labour and success : and if there be any, as I trust there are some, who rejoice that I live, to that dear and excellent woman they must hold themselves indebted. Many anxious and solitary days did she consume in the patient trial of every mode of relief and amusement. Many wakeful nights did she sit by my bedside in trembling expectation that each hour would be my last. Of the various and frequent disorders of my child- hood my own recollection is dark ; nor do I wish to expatiate on so disgusting a topic. Suffice it to say, that while every practitioner, from Sloane and CHAP. ir. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. B'J AVard to the Chevalier Taylor*, was successively summoned to torture or relieve me, the care of my mind was too frequently neglected for tliat of my health : compassion always suggested an excuse for the indulgence of the master, or the idleness of the pupil ; and the chain of my education was broken, as often as I was recalled from the school of learning to the bed of sickness. As soon as the use of speech had prepared my infant reason for the admission of knowledge, I was taught the arts of reading, writing, and arith- metic. So remote is the date, so vague is the memory of their origin in myself, that, were not the error corrected by analogy, I should be tempted to conceive them as innate. In my childhood I was praised for the readiness, with which I could multiply and divide, by memory alone, two sums of several figures : such praise encouraged my grow- ing talent ; and had I persevered in this line of application, I might have acquired some fame in mathematical studies. After this previous institution at home, or at a day-school at Putney, I was delivered at tlie age of seven into the hands of Mr. John Kirkby, who exercised about eighteen months the office of my domestic tutor. His own words, which I shall here * A quack oculist, on whom Horace Walpole wrote the following epigram : — " Why Taylor the quack calls himself Chevalier, "Tis not easy a reason to render ; Unless he would own, what his practice makes clear, That at best he is but a Pretender." The Pretender went i)y the name of the Chevalier St. George, T,cttrrs to Sir Horace Mann, vol.iii. p. 348. — M. D 3 38 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. II. transcribe, inspire in his favour a sentiment of pity and esteem. — "During my abode in my native county of Cumberland, in quality of an indigent curate, I used now and then in a summer, when the pleasantness of the season invited, to take a so- litary walk to the sea-shore, which lies about two miles from the town where I lived. Here I would amuse myself, one while in viewing at large the agreeable prospect which surrounded me, and an- other while (confining my sight to nearer objects) in admiring the vast variety of beautiful shells, thrown upon the beach ; some of the choicest of which I always picked up, to divert my little ones upon my return. One time among the rest, taking such a journey in my head, I sat down upon the declivity of the beach with my face to the sea, which was now come up within a few yards of my feet ; when immediately the sad thought of the wretched condition of my family, and the unsuc- cessfulness of all endeavours to amend it, came crowding into my mind, which drove me into a deep melancholy, and ever and anon forced tears from my eyes." Distress at last forced him to leave the country. His learning and virtue intro- duced him to my father; and at Putney he might have found at least a temporary shelter, had not an act of indiscretion again driven him into the world. One day reading prayers in the parish church, he most unluckily forgot the name of King George : his patron, a loyal subject, dismissed him with some reluctance, and a decent reward ; and ho?/; the poor man ended his days I have never been able to learn. Mr. John Kirkby is the autlior of two small CHAP. IT. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 39 volumes ; the Life of Automathes (London, 174^5), and an English and Latin Grammar (London, 1746) ; which, as a testimony of gratitude, he de- dicated (November 5tli, 1715) to my ftither. The books are before me : from them the pupil may judge the preceptor ; and, upon the whole, his judgment will not be unfavourable. The grammar is executed with accuracy and skill, and I know not whether any better existed at the time in our language: but the Life of Automathes aspires to the ' honours of a philosophical fiction. It is the story of a youth, the son of a shipwrecked exile, who lives alone on a desert island from infancy to the age of manhood. A hind is his nurse ; he inherits a cottage, with many useful and curious instru- ments ; some ideas remain of the education of his two first years ; some arts are borrowed from the beavers of a neighbouring lake ; some truths are revealed in supernatural visions. With these helps, and his own industry, Automathes becomes a self-taught though speechless philosopher, who had investigated with success his own mind, the natural world, the abstract sciences, and the great principles of morality and religion. The author is not entitled to the merit of invention, since he has blended the English story of Robinson Crusoe with the Arabian romance of Hai Ebn Yokhdan, which he might have read in the Latin version of Pocock. In the Automathes I cannot praise either the depth of thouglit or elegance of style ; but the book is not devoid of entertainment or instruction ; and among several interesting pas- sages, I would select the discovery of fire, which D 4 40 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. II. produces by accidental mischief the discovery of conscience. A man who had thought so much on the subjects of language and education was surely no ordinary preceptor : my cliildish years, and his hasty departure, prevented me from enjoying the full benefit of his lessons ; but they enlarged my knowledge of arithmetic, and left me a clear im- pression of the English and Latin rudiments. In my ninth year (January, 1746), in a lucid in- terval of comparative health, my father adopted the convenient and customary mode of English educa- tion; and I was sent to Kingston-upon-Thames, to a school of about seventy boys, which was kept by Dr. Wooddeson and his assistants. Every time I have since passed over Putney Common, I have always noticed the spot where my mother, as we drove along in the coach, admonished me that I was now going into the world, and must learn to think and act for myself. The expression may ap- pear ludicrous ; yet there is not, in the course of life, a more remarkable change than the removal of a child from the luxury and freedom of a wealthy house, to the frugal diet and strict subordination of a school ; from the tenderness of parents, and the obsequiousness of servants, to the rude fami- liarity of his equals, the insolent tyranny of his seniors, and the rod, perhaps, of a cruel and capri- cious pedagogue. Such hardships may steel the mind and body against the injiuies of fortune ; but my timid reserve was astonished by the crowd and tumult of the school ; the want of strength and ac- tivity disqualified me for the s])()rts of the ])ln3^- field ; nor have I forgotten how often in the year CHAP. II. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 41 forty-six I was reviled and buffeted for the sins of my Tory ancestors. By tlie common methods of discipline, at tlie expense of many tears and some blood, I purchased the knowledge of the Latin syn- tax : and not long since I was possessed of the dirty volumes of Phaedrus and Cornelius Nepos, which I painfully construed and darkly understood. The choice of these authors is not injudicious. The lives of Cornelius Nepos, the friend of Atticus and Cicero, are composed in the style of the purest age : his simplicity is elegant, his brevity copious : he exhibits a series of men and manners; and with such illustrations, as every pedant is not indeed qualified to give, this classic biographer may ini- tiate a young student in the history of Greece and Rome. The use of fables or apologues has been approved in every age from ancient India to mo- dern Europe. They convey in familiar images the truths of morality and prudence ; and the most childish understanding (I advert to the scruples of Rousseau) will not suppose either that beasts do speak, or that men may lie. A fable represents the genuine characters of animals; and a skilful master might extract from Pliny and Buffon some j)leasing lessons of natural history, a science well adapted to the taste and capacity of children. The Latinity of Phaedrus is not exempt from an alloy of the silver age ; but his manner is concise, terse, and sententious: the Thracian slave discreetly breathes the spirit of a freeman ; and when the text is sound, the style is perspicuous. But his fables, after a long oblivion, w^cre first published by Peter Pithou, from a corrupt manuscri])t. The labours of fifty 42 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. II. editors confess the defects of the copy, as well as the value of the original ; and the school-boy may have been whipt for misapprehending a passage, which Bentley could not restore, and which Bur- man could not explain. My studies were too frequently interrupted by sickness ; and after a real or nominal residence at Kingston school of near two years, I was finally recalled (December, 1747) by my mother's deatli, which was occasioned, in her thirty-eighth year, by the consequences of her last labour. I was too young to feel the importance of my loss ; and the image of her person and conversation is faintly im- printed in my memory. The affectionate heart of my aunt, Catherine Porten, bewailed a sister and a friend; but my poor father was inconsolable, and the transport of grief seemed to threaten his life or his reason. I can never forget the scene of oiu- first interview, some weeks after the fatal event ; tlie awful silence, the room hung witli black, the mid-day tapers, his sighs and tears ; his praises of my mother, a saint in heaven ; his solemn adju- ration that I would cherish her memory and imitate her virtues ; and the fervour with which he kissed and blessed me as the sole surviving pledge of their loves. The storm of passion insensibly subsided into calmer melancholy. At a convivial meeting of his friends, Mr. Gibbon might affect or enjoy a gleam of cheerfulness ; but liis plan of happiness was for ever destroyed : and after the loss of his companion he was left alone in a world, of wliicli the business and pleasures were to him irksome or insipid. After some unsuccessful trials he re- CHAP. II. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 43 nounced the tumult of London and the hospitality of Putney, and buried himself in the rural or rather rustic sohtude of Buriton ; from which, during several years, he seldom emerged. As far back as I can remember, the house near Putney-bridge and church-yard, of my maternal grandfather, appears in the light of my proper and native home. It was there that I was allowed to spend the greatest part of my time, in sickness or in health, during my school vacations and my pa- rents* residence in London, and finally after my mother's death. Three months after that event, in the spring of 1 748, the commercial ruin of her father, Mr. James Porten, was accomplished and declared. As his effects were not sold, nor the house evacuated, till the Christmas following, I enjoyed during the whole year the society of my aunt, without much consciousness of her impending fate. I feel a melancholy pleasure in repeating my obligations to that excellent woman, Mrs. Cathe- rine Porten, the true mother of my mind as well as of my health. (1) Her natural good sense was im- proved by the perusal of the best books in the English language; and if her reason was sometimes clouded by prejudice, her sentiments were never disguised by hypocrisy or affectation. Her indul- gent tenderness, the frankness of her temper, and my innate rising curiosity, soon removed all dis- tance between us: like friends of an equal age, we freely conversed on every topic, familiar or abstruse j and it was her delight and reward to observe the first slioots of my young ideas. Pain and languor were often soothed by the voice of instruction and 44> MLMOIRS OF CHAP. 11. amusement ; and to her kind lessons I ascribe my early and invincible love of reading, which I would not exchange for the treasures of India. I should perhaps be astonished, were it possible to ascertain the date, at which a favourite tale was engraved, by frequent repetition, in my memory: the Cavern of the Winds; the Palace of Felicity; and the fatal moment, at the end of three months or centuries, when Prince Adolphus is overtaken by Time, who had worn out so many pair of wings in the pursuit. Before I left Kingston school I was well ac- quainted with Pope's Homer and the Arabian Nights Entertainments, two books which will always please by the moving picture of human manners and specious miracles : nor was I then capable of discerning that Pope's translation is a portrait endowed with every merit, excepting that of likeness to the original. The verses of Pope accustomed my ear to the sound of poetic harmony: in the death of Hector, and the shipwreck of Ulysses, I tasted the new emotions of terror and pity ; and seriously disputed with my aunt on the vices and virtues of the heroes of the Trojan war. From Pope's Homer to Dryden's Virgil was an easy transition ; but I know not how, from some fault in the author, the translator, or the reader, the pious iEneas did not so forcibly seize on my imagination ; and I derived more pleasure from Ovid's Metamorphoses, especially in the fall of Phaeton, and the speeches of Ajax and Ulysses. My grandfather's flight unlocked the door of a tolerable library ; and I turned over many English pages of poetry and romance, of history and travels. CHAF. II. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 45 Where a title attracted my eye, witliout fear or awe I snatched the vokime from the shelf; and Mrs. Portcn, who indulged herself in moral and re- ligious speculations, was more prone to encourage than to check a curiosity above the strength of a boy. This year (1748), the twelfth of rny age, I shall note as the most propitious to the growth of my intellectual stature. The relics of my grandfather's fortune afforded a bare annuity for his own maintenance ; and his daughter, my worthy aunt, who had already passed her fortieth year, was left destitute. Her noble spirit scorned a life of obligation and de- pendance ; and after revolving several schemes, she preferred the humble industry of keeping a boarding-house for Westminster-school^, where she laboriously earned a competence for her old age. This singular opportunity of blending the advan- tages of private and public education decided my father. After the Christmas holidays, in January, 1749, I accompanied Mrs. Porten to her new house in College-street ; and was immediately entered in the school, of which Dr. John Nicoll was at that time head-master. At first I was alone : but my aunt's resolution was praised ; her character was esteemed ; her friends were numerous and active : in the course of some years she became the mother of forty or fifty boys, for the most part of family and fortune ; and as her primitive habitation was too narrow, she built and occupied a spacious man- '^ It is said in the famil}-, that she was principally incliicecl to this undertaking by her affection for her nephew, whose weak constitutioa required her constant and unremitted attention. — S. 46 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. II. sion in Dean's Yard. I shall always be ready to join in the common opinion, that our pubUc schools, which have produced so many eminent characters, are the best adapted to the genius and constitution of the English people. A boy of spirit may acquire a previous and practical experience of tlie world ; and his playfellows may be the future friends of his heart or his interest. In a free intercourse with his equals, the habits of truth, fortitude, and pru- dence will insensibly be matured. Birth and riches are measured by the standard of personal merit ; and the mimic scene of a rebellion has displayed, in their true colours, the ministers and patriots of the rising generation. Our seminaries of learning do not exactly correspond with tlie precept of a Spartan king, " that the child should be instructed in the arts, which will be useful to the man ; " since a finished scholar may emerge from the head of Westminster or Eton, in total ignorance of the bu- siness and conversation of English gentlemen in the latter end of the eighteenth century. But these schools may assume the merit of teaching all that they pretend to teach, the Latin and Greek languages : they deposit in the hands of a disciple the keys of two valuable chests ; nor can he com- plain, if they are afterwards lost or neglected by his own fault. The necessity of leading in equal ranks so many unequal powers of capacity and ap- plication, will prolong to eight or ten years the ju- venile studies, which might be dispatched in half that time by the skilful master of a single pupil. Yet even the repetition of exercise and discipline contributes to fix in a vacant mind the verbal CHAP. II. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 47 science of grammar and prosody : and the priv^ate or voluntary student, who possesses the sense and spirit of the classics, may ofiend, by a false quan- tity, the scrupulous ear of a well-flogged critic. For myself, I must be content with a very small share of the civil and literary fruits of a public school. In the space of two years (1749, 17<50), interrupted by danger and debility, I painfully climbed into the third form ; and my riper age was left to acquire the beauties of the Latin, and the rudiments of the Greek tongue. Instead of auda- ciously mingling in the sports, the quarrels, and the connections of our little world, I was still cherished at home under the maternal wing of my aunt ; and my removal from Westminster long preceded the approach of manhood. The violence and variety of my complaints, which had excused my frequent absence from Westminster-school, at length engaged Mrs. Por- ten, with the advice of physicians, to conduct me to Bath : at the end of the Michaelmas vacation (1750) she quitted me with reluctance, and I re- mained several months under the care of a trusty maid-servant. A strange nervous affection, which alternately contracted my legs, and produced, without any visible symptoms, the most excru- ciating pain, was ineffectually opposed by the various methods of bathing and pumping. From Bath I was transported to Winchester, to the house of a physician ; and after the failure of his medical skill, we had again recourse to the virtues of the Bath waters. During the intervals of these fits, I moved with my father to Buriton and Putney j 48 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. II. and a short unsuccessful trial was attempted to renew my attendance at Westminster-school. But my infirmities could not be reconciled with the hours and discipline of a public seminary ; and in- stead of a domestic tutor, who might have watched the favourable moments, and gently advanced the progress of my learning, my father was too easily content with such occasional teachers as the dif- ferent places of my residence could supply. I was never forced, and seldom was I persuaded, to admit these lessons : yet I read with a clergyman at Bath some odes of Horace, and several episodes of Virgil, which gave me an imperfect and transient enjoyment of the Latin poets. It might now be apprehended that I should continue for life an il- literate cripple : but, as I approached my sixteenth year, Nature displayed in my favour her mysterious energies : my constitution was fortified and fixed ; and my disorders, instead of growing with my growth and strengthening with my strength, most wonderfully vanished. I have never possessed or abused the insolence of health : but since that time few persons have been more exempt from real or imaginary ills ; and, till I am admonished by the gout, the reader will no more be troubled with the history of my bodily complaints. My unexpected recovery again encouraged the hope of my edu- cation ; and I was placed at Esher, in Surry, in the house of the Reverend Mr. Philip Francis, in a pleasant spot, which promised to unite the various benefits of air, exercise, and study (January, 1752). The translator of Horace might have taught me to relish the Latin poets, had not my friends dis- CHAP. II. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 49 covered in a few weeks, that he preferred the pleasures of London to the instruction of his pupils. My father's perplexity at this time, rather than his prudence, was urged to embrace a sin- gular and desperate measure. Without preparation or delay he carried me to Oxford ; and I was matriculated in the university as a gentleman- commoner of Magdalen college, before I had ac- complished the fifteenth year of my age (April 3, 1752). The curiosity, which had been implanted in my infant mind, was still alive and active ; but my reason was not sufficiently informed to understand the value, or to lament the loss, of three precious years from my entrance at Westminster to my ad- mission at Oxford. Instead of repining at my long and frequent confinement to the chamber or the couch, I secretly rejoiced in those infirmities, which delivered me from the exercises of the school, and the society of my equals. As often as I was tole- rably exempt from danger and pain, reading, free desultory reading, was the employment and comfort of my solitary hours. At Westminster, my aunt sought only to amuse and indulge me ; in my stations at Bath and Winchester, at Buriton and Putney, a false compassion respected my sufferings ; and I was allowed, without controul or advice, to gratify the wanderings of an unripe taste. My in- discriminate appetite subsided by degrees in the historic line : and since philosophy has exploded all innate ideas and natural propensities, I must ascribe this choice to the assiduous perusal of the Universal History, as the octavo volumes successively ap- E 50 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. II. peared. This unequal work, and a treatise of Hearne, the Ductor hisforicuSj referred and intro- duced me to the Greek and Roman historians, to as many at least as were accessible to an English reader. All that I could find were greedily de- voured, from Littlebury's lame Herodotus, and Spelman's valuable Xenophon, to the pompous folios of Gordon's Tacitus, and a ragged Procopius of the beginning of the last century. The cheap acquisition of so much knowledge confirmed my dislike to the study of languages ; and I argued with Mrs. Porten, that, were I master of Greek and Latin, I must interpret to myself in English the thoughts of the original, and that such extemporary versions must be inferior to the elaborate trans- lations of professed scholars ; a silly sophism, which could not easily be confuted by a person ignorant of any other language than her own. From the ancient I leaped to the modern world : many crude lumps of Speed, Rapin, Mezeray, Davila, Machi- avel, Father Paul, Bower, &c. I devoured like so many novels ; and I swallowed with the same vo- racious appetite the descriptions of India and China, of Mexico and Peru. My first introduction to the historic scenes, which have since engaged so many years of my life, must be ascribed to an accident. In the summer of 17.51, I accompanied my father on a visit to Mr. Hoare's, in Wiltshire ; but 1 was less delighted with the beauties of Stourhead, than with disco- vering in the library a conmion book, the Continu- ation of Echard's Roman History, which is indeed executed with more skill and taste than the previous CHAP. II. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 51 work. To me the reigns of the successors of Con- stantme were absolutely new ; and I was immersed in the passage of the Goths over the Danube, when the summons of the dinner-bell reluctantly dragged me from my intellectual feast. This transient glance served rather to irritate than to appease my curi- osity ; and as soon as I returned to Bath I procured the second and third volumes of Howel's History of the World, which exhibit the Byzantine period on a lai'o^er scale. Mahomet and his Saracens soon fixed my attention ; and some instinct of criticism directed me to the genuine sources. Simon Ockley, an original in every sense, first opened my eyes ; and I was led from one book to another, till 1 had ranged round the circle of Oriental history. Before I was sixteen, I had exhausted all that could be learned in English of the Arabs and Persians, the Tartars and Turks ; and the same ardour urged me to guess at the French ofD'Herbelot,and to construe the barbarous Latin of Pocock's Abulfaragius. Such vague and multifarious reading could not teach me to think, to write, or to act ; and the only principle, that darted a ray of light into the indigested chaos, was an early and rational application to the order of time and place. The maps of Cellarius and Wells imprinted in my mind the picture of ancient geo- graphy : from Stranchius I imbibed the elements of chronology : the Tables of Helvicus and An- derson, the Annals of Usher and Prideaux, distin- guished the connection of events, and engraved the multitude of names and dates in a clear and indelible series. But in the discussion of the first asfes I overleaped the bounds of modesty and use. In my E 9. 52 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. cliilclisli balance I presumed to weigh the systems of ScaUger and Petavius, of Marsham and Newton, which I could seldom study in the originals ; and my sleep has been disturbed by the difficulty of re- conciling the Septuagint with the Hebrew compu- tation. I arrived at Oxford with a stock of erudition, that might have puzzled a doctor, and a degree of ignorance, of which a school-boy would have been ashamed. At the conclusion of this first period of my life I am tempted to enter a protest against the trite and lavish praise of the happiness of our boyish years, which is echoed with so much affectation in the world. That happiness I have never known, that time I have never regretted j and were my poor aunt still alive, she would bear testimony to the early and constant uniformity of my senti- ments. It will indeed be replied that / am not a competent judge ; that pleasure is incompatible with pain ; that joy is excluded from sickness ; and that the felicity of a school-boy consists in the perpetual motion of thoughtless and playful agility, in which I was never qualified to excel. My name, it is most true, could never be enrolled among the sprightly race, the idle progeny of Eton or West- minster, " Who foremost might delight to cleave, With pliant arm, the glassy wave. Or urge the flying ball." The poet may gaily describe the short hours of recreation; but he forgets the daily tedious labours of tlie school, which is a})))roached each morning with anxious and reluctant steps. CHAP. II. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 53 NOTES AND ADDITIONS. No. 1. page iy. Gibbon's grateful attachment to this " excellent woman" is strongly expressed in two of his letters on her death : — Edward Gibbon, Esq., to the Riyht Honourable Loi'd Sheffield. Lausanne, May 10th, 1786. By the difference, I suppose, of the posts of France and Germany, Sir Stanier's letter, though first written, is still on the road, and your's, which I received yesterday morning, brought me the first account of poor Mrs. Porten's departure. There are few events that could afflict me more deeply, and I have been ever since in a state of mind moi'e deserving of your pity than of your reproaches. I certainly am not ig- norant that we have nothing better to wish for ourselves than the fate of that best-humoured woman, as you very justly style her ; a good understanding and an excellent heart, with health, spirits, and a com- petency, to live in the midst of her friends till the age of fourscore, and then to shut her eyes without pain or remorse. Death can have de- prived her only of some years of weakness, perhaps of niiserj' ; and for myself, it is surely less painful to lose her at present, than to find her on my visit to England next year sinking under the weight of age and infirmities, and perhaps forgetful of herself and of the persons once the dearest to her. All this is perfectly true : but all these reflections will not dispel a thousand sad and tender remembrances that rush upon my mind. To her care I am indebted in earliest infancy for the pre- servation of my life and health. I was a puny child, neglected by my mother, starved by my nurse, and of whose being very little care or expectation was entertained ; without her maternal vigilance I should either have been in my grave, or imperfectly lived, a crooked ricketty monster, a burden to myself and others. To her instructions I owe the first rudiments of knowledge, the first exercise of reason, and a taste for books, which is still the pleasure and glory of my life ; and though she taught me neither language nor science, she was certainly the most useful preceptor I ever had. As I grew up, an intercourse of thirty years endeared her to me, as the faithful friend and the agreeable companion. You have seen with what freedom and confidence we e3 54 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. lived together, and have often admired her character and conversation, which could alike please the j'oung and the old. All this is now lost, finally, irrecoverably lost ! I will agree with my Lady, that the im- mortality of the soul is at some times a very comfortable doctrine. A thousand thanks to her for her constant kind attention to that poor woman who is no more. I wisii I had as much to a{)plaud, and as little to reproach, in my own behaviour towards Mrs. Porten since I left England ; and when I reflect that my letters would have soothed and comforted her decline, I feel more deeply than I can express, the real neglect, and seeming indifference, of my silence. To delay a letter from the Wednesday to the Saturday, and then /rom the Saturday to the Wednesday, appears a very slight offence ; yet in the repetition of such delay, weeks, months, and years will elapse, till the omission may become irretrievable, and the consequence mischievous or fatal. After a long lethargy, I had roused myself last week, and wrote to the three old Ladies, my letter for Mrs'. Porten went away last post, Saturday night, and yours did not arrive till Monday morning. Sir Stanier will probably open it, and read the true picture of my sentiments for a friend who, when I wrote, was already extinct. There is something sad and awful in the thought, yet, on the whole, I am not sorry that even this tardy epistle preceded my knowledge of her death : but it did not precede (you will observe) the information of her dangerous and declining state, which I conveyed in my last letter, and her anxious concern that she should never see "or hear from me again. This idea, and the hard thoughts which you must entertain of me, press so much on my mind, that I must frankly acknowledge a strange inexcusable supincness, on which I desire you would make no comment, and which in some measure may account for my delays in corresponding with you. Tiie unpleasant nature of business, and the apprehension of find- ing something disagreeable, tempted me to postpone from day to day, not only the answering, but even the opening, your pemdtimate epistle ; and when I received your last, yesterday morning, the seal of the former was still unbroken. Oblige me so far as to make no reflections ; my own may be of service to me hereufier. Thus far (except the last sentence) I have run on with a sort of melancholy pleasure, and find my heart much relieved by unfolding it to a friend. And the subject so strongly holds me, so much disqualifies me for other discourse, either serious or pleasant, that here I would willingly stop and reserve all miscellaneous matter for a second volunteer epistle. But wc both know Iiow frail arc promises, ho^v dangerous are delays, and there are some pecuniary objects on which I think it necessary to give you an inHncdiad", though now lardy, cx[)lanntion. * * * * * * Adieu. CHAP. II. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 53 Edward Gibbon, Esq., to Sir Stanier Porten, Kensington Palace. My dear Sir, Lausanne, May 12th, I78G. The melancholy event which you have communicated, in your last obliging letter of the twenty-fourth of April, might indeed be too na- iurally feared and expected. If we consult our reason, we can wish nothing better for ourselves than the lot of that dear and valuable friend whom we have now lost.* A warm heart, a strong and clear understanding, a most invaluable happiness of temper, which showed her the agreeable or comfortable side of every object, and every situ- ation ; an easy competency, the reward of her own attention ; private friendship, general esteem, a mature age, and a placid decline. But these rational motives of consolation are insufficient to check a thou- sand soft and sad remembrances that rush into my mind ; the intimacy of a whole life ; of mine, at least, from the earliest dawn of my infancy; the maternal and assiduous care of my health, and afterwards of my mind ; the freedom and frequency of our conversations ; the regret which 1 felt in our last separation, and the hope, however faint and precarious, of seeing her again. Time alone can reconcile us to this irreparable loss, and to his healing power I must recommend your grief, as well as my own. I sincerely applaud her very proper and natural disposal of her effects, and am proud of the pre-eminence which she has allowed me in a list of dear and worthy relations. I am too full of a single idea to expatiate, as I should otiierwise do, on indifferent matters ; yet not totally indifferent to my friends, since they relate to my present situation. My health is in general perfectly good, and the only drawbacks some occasional visits of the gout, which abate, however, in strength, and are grown, I think, less frequent and lasting. The life which I lead is temperate and tranquil, and the dis- temper itself is not common in the purity and dryness of the climate. After a long trial, I can now approve my own choice of retiring to Switzerland. I am, dear Sir, most affectionately jours. * His aunt, Mrs. Catherine Porten. E 4 56 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. CHAP. III. Enters a Gentleman Commoner at Magdalen College, Oxford. — Bemnrks on that University. — Some Account of Mag- dalen College. — Character of Dr. JValdegrave, Mr. Gibbon's first Tutor. — The Author determines to ivrite an History ; its Subject. — Solution of a Chronological Difficulty. — Mr, Gibbon is converted to the Homan Catholic lieUgion ; cites the Examples of ChiUiagworth and Bayle ; their Characters. — Mr. Gibbon obliged to leave Oxford. — Farther Remarks on the University. A TRAVELLER, wlio visits Oxfortl oi' Cambridge, is surprised and edified by the apparent order and tranquillity that prevail in the seats of the English muses. In the most celebrated universities of Holland, Germany, and Italy, the students, who swarm from different countries, are loosely dis- persed in private lodgings at the houses of the burghers : they dress according to their fancy and fortune ; and in the intemperate quarrels of youth and wine, their swords, though less frequently than of old, are sometimes stained with each other's blood, The use of arms is banished from our English universities ; the uniform habit of the academics, the square cap, and black gown, is adapted to the civil and even clericyl profession ; and from the doctor in divinity to the under- graduate, the degrees of learning and age are ex- ternally distinguished. Instead of being scattered in a town, the students of Oxford and Cambridge are united in colleges ; their maintenance is pro- CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 57 vided at their own expense, or that of the founders ; and tlie stated hours of the hall and chapel represent the discipline of a regular, and, as it were, a religious community. The eyes of the traveller are attracted by the size or beauty of the public edifices : and the principal colleges appear to be so many palaces, which a liberal nation has erected and endowed for the habitation of science. My own introduction to the univer- sity of Oxford forms a new a^ra in my life ; and at the distance of forty years I still remember my first emotions of surprise and satisfaction. In my fifteenth year I felt myself suddenly raised from a boy to a man : the persons, whom I respected as my superiors in age and academical rank, enter- tained me with every mark of attention and civility ; and my vanity was flattered by the velvet cap and silk gown which distinguish a gentleman-commoner from a plebeian student. A decent allowance, more money than a school-boy had ever seen, was at my own disposal ; and I might command, among the tradesmen of Oxford, an indefinite and dangerous latitude of credit. A key was delivered into my hands, which gave me the free use of a numerous and learned library: my apartment consisted of three elegant and well- furnished rooms in the new buildhig, a stately pile, of Magdalen College ; and the adjacent w^alks, had they been frequented by Plato's dis- ciples, might have been compared to the Attic shade on the banks of the Ilissus. Such was the fair ])rospect of my entrance (April 3. 1752) into the university of Oxford. 58 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. A venerable prelate, whose taste and erudition must reflect honour on the society in which they were formed, has drawn a very interesting picture of his academical life. — "I was educated (says Bishop Lowth) in the university of Oxford. I enjoyed all the advantages, both public and private, which that famous seat of learning so largely affords. I spent many years in that illus- trious society, in a well-regulated course of useful discipline and studies, and in the agreeable and improving commerce of gentlemen and of scholars; in a society where emulation without envy, am- bition without jealousy, contention without ani- mosity, incited industry, and awakened genius ; where a liberal pursuit of knowledge, and a genuine freedom of thought, was raised, encou- raged, and pushed forward by example, by com- mendation, and by authority. I breathed the same atmosphere that the Hookers, the Ciiil- LiNGWORTHs, and theLocKEs had breathed before ; whose benevolence and humanity were as exten- sive as their vast genius and comprehensive know- ledge ; who always treated their adversaries with civility and respect ; who made candour, mode- ration, and liberal judgment as much the rule and law as the subject of their discourse. And do you reproach me witli my education in this place, and with my relation to this most respectable body, which I sliall always esteem my greatest advantage and my highest honour ? " * I transcribe with plea- * From the celebrated Letter to the Right Rev. Author of the Di- vine Legation, page 04. — M. CHAP. III. flY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 59 sure this eloquent passage, without examining what benefits or M^hat rewards were derived by Hooker, or ChilHngworth, or Locke, from their academical institution ; without inquiring, whether in this angry controversy the spirit of Lowth himself is purified from the intolerant zeal, which Warburton had as- cribed to the genius of the place. It may indeed be observed, that the atmosphere of Oxford did not agree with Mr. Locke's constitution, and that the philosopher justly despised the academical bigots, who expelled his person and condemned his principles.* The expression of gratitude is a virtue and a pleasure : a liberal mind will delight to cherish and celebrate the memory of its parents; and the teachers of science are the parents of the mind. I applaud the filial piety which it is impos- sible for me to imitate ; since I must not confess an imaginary debt, to assume the merit of a just or generous retribution. To the university of Oxford / acknowledge no obligation ; and she will as cheerfully renounce me for a son, as I am willing to disclaim her for a mother. I spent fourteen months at Magdalen College ; they proved the fourteen months the most idle and unprofitable of my whole life : the reader will pronounce between the school and the scholar : but I cannot aflPect to to believe that Nature had disqualified me for all * The subject of the expulsion of this object by the sligiitcst of Locke has been set at rest by compromise of truth and justice„ the publication of the hitc Chan- The disgraceful act was not that cellor of Oxford; who, anxious of the University, but of the servile as he might bo to uphold the Head of a College in obedience to character of the University, would an arbitrary Court. See Lortl luive disdained the attainment even Grcnville, (3xford and Locke. — M. 60 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. literary pursuits. The specious and ready excuse of my tender age, imperfect preparation, and hasty departure, may doubtless be alleged ; nor do I wish to defraud such excuses of their proper weight. Yet in my sixteenth year I was not devoid of ca- pacity or application ; even my childish reading had displayed an early though blind propensity for books ; and the shallow flood might have been taught to flow in a deep channel and a clear stream. In the discipline of a well-constituted academy, under theguidanceof skilful and vigilant professors, I should gradually have risen from trans- lations to originals, from the Latin to the Greek classics, from dead languages to living science : my hours would have been occupied by useful and agreeable studies, the wanderings of fancy would have been restrained, and I should. have escaped the temptations of idleness, which finally precipitated my departure from Oxford. Perhaps in a separate annotation I may coolly examine the fabulous and real antiquities of our sister universities, a question which has kindled such fierce and foolish disputes among their fanatic sons. In the mean while it will be acknowledged, that these venerable bodies are sufficiently old to partake of all the prejudices and infirmities of age. The schools of Oxford and Cambridge were founded in a dark age of false and barbarous science ; and they are still tainted with the vices of their origin. Their primitive disci])line w^as adapted to the edu- cation of priests and monks ; and the government still remains in the hands of the clergy, an order of men whose manners are remote from the present CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 6l world, and whose eyes are dazzled by the light of philosophy. The legal incorporation of these so- cieties by the charters of popes and kings had given them a monopoly of the public instruction ; and the spirit of monopolists is narrow, lazy, and op- pressive ; their work is more costly and less pro- ductive than that of independent artists j and the new improvements so eagerly grasped by the com- petition of freedom, are admitted with slow and sullen reluctance in those proud corporations, above the fear of a rival, and below the confession of an error. We may scarcely hope that any re- formation will be a voluntary act ; and so deeply are they rooted in law and prejudice, that even the omnipotence of parliament w^ould shrink from an inquiry into the state and abuses of the two uni- versities. The use of academical degrees, as old as the thirteenth century, is visibly borrowed from the mechanic corporations ; in which an apprentice, after serving his time, obtains a testimonial of his skill, and a licence to practise his trade and mystery. It is not my design to depreciate those honours, which could never gratify or disappoint my am- bition ; and I should applaud the institution, if the degrees of bachelor or licentiate were bestowed as the reward of manly and successful study : if the name and rank of doctor or master were strictly reserved for the professors of science, who have approved their title to the public esteem. In all the universities of Europe, excepting our own, the languages and sciences are distributed among a numerous list of effective prof^^ssorsj the 62 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. Students, according to their taste, their calling, and their diligence, apply themselves to the proper masters ; and in the annual repetition of public and private lectures, these masters are assiduously employed. Our curiosity may inquire what number of professors has been instituted at Oxford ? (for I shall now confine myself to my own university ; ) by whom are they appointed, and what may be the probable chances of merit or incapacity? how many are stationed to the three faculties, and how many are left for the liberal arts ? what is the form, and what the substance, of their lessons ? But all these questions are silenced by one short and singular answer, ** That in the university of Oxford, the greater part of the public professors have for these many years given up altogether even the pretence of teaching." Incredible as the fact may appear, I must rest my belief on the positive and impartial evidence of a master of moral and political wisdom, who had himself resided at Oxford. Dr. Adam Smith assigns as the cause of their indolence, that, instead of being paid by voluntary contributions, wliich would urge them to increase the number, and to deserve the gratitude of their pupils, the Oxford professors are secure in the enjoyment of a fixed stipend, without the necessity of labour, or the apprehension of controul. It has indeed been observed, nor is the observation absurd, that ex- cepting in experimental sciences, which demand a costly apparatus and a dexterous hand, the many valuable treatises, tliat have been published on every subject of learning, may now supersede the ancient mode of oral instruction. Were this prin- CHAP. III. IMY LIFE AND WIUTINGS. CS ciple true in its utmost latitude, I should only infer that the offices and salaries, which are become useless, ought without delay to be abolished. But there still remains a material difference between a book and a professor ; the hour of the lecture enforces attendance ; attention is fixed by the presence, the voice, and the occasional questions of the teacher ; the most idle will carry something away ; and the more diligent will compare the instructions, which they liave heard in the school, with the volumes, which they peruse in their chamber. The advice of a skilful professor will adapt a course of reading to every mind and every situation ; his authority will discover, admonish, and at last chastise the negligence of his disciples ; and his vigilant inquiries will ascertain the steps of their literary progress. Whatever science he pro- fesses he may illustrate in a series of discourses, composed in the leisure of his closet, pronounced on public occasions, and finally delivered to the press. I observe with pleasure, that in the uni- versity of Oxford Dr. Lowth, with equal eloquence and erudition, has executed this task in his incom- parable Prcelectiones on the Poetry of the Hebrews. The college of St. Mary Magdalen was founded in the fifteenth century by Wainfleet, Bishop of Winchester ; and now consists of a president, forty fellows, and a number of inferior students. It is esteemed one of the largest and most wealthy of our academical corporations, which maybe compared to the Benedictine abbeys of catholic countries ; and I have loosely heard that the estates belonging to Magdalen College, which are leased by those ()4< MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. indulgent landlords at small quit-rents and occa- sional fines, might be raised, in the hands of private avarice, to an annual revenue of nearly thirty thou- sand pounds. Our colleges are supposed to be schools of science, as well as of education ; nor is it unreasonable to expect that a body of literary men, devoted to a life of celibacy, exempt from the care of their own subsistence, and amply provided with books, should devote their leisure to the pro- secution of study, and that some effects of their studies should be manifested to the world. The shelves of their library groan under the weight of the Benedictine folios, of the editions of the fathers, and the collections of the middle ages, which have issued from the single abbey of St. Germain de Prez at Paris. A composition of genius must be the offspring of one mind j but such works of in- dustry, as may be divided among many hands, and must be continued during many years, are the pe- culiar province of a laborious community. If I inquire into the manufactures of the monks of Magdalen, if I extend the inquiry to the other colleges of Oxford and Cambridge, a silent blush, or a scornful frown, will be the only reply. The fellows or monks of my time were decent easy men, who supinely enjoyed the gifts of the founder : their days were filled by a series of uniform em- ployments; the chapel and the hall, the coffee-house and the common room, till they retired, weary and well satisfied, to a long slumber. From the toil of reading, or thinking, or w^riting, they had absolved their conscience ; and the first shoots of learning and ingenuity withered on the ground, without CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 65 yielding- any fruits to the owners or tlie public. As a gentleman-commoner, I was admitted to tlie so- ciety of the fellows, and fondly expected that some questions of literature would be the amusing and instructive topics of their discourse. Their con- versation stagnated in a round of college business, Tory politics, personal anecdotes, and private scandal : their dull and deep potations excused the brisk intemperance of youth : and their constitu- tional toasts were not expressive of the most lively loyalty for the house of Hanover. A general election was now approaching : the great Oxford- shire contest already blazed with all the malevolence of party-zeal. Magdalen College was devoutly attached to the old interest! and the names of Wenman and Dashwood were more frequently pronounced, than those of Cicero and Chrysostom. The example of the senior fellows could not inspire the under-graduates with a liberal spirit or studious emulation ; and I cannot describe, as I never knew, the discipline of college. Some duties may possibly have been imposed on the poor scholars, whose ambition aspired to the peaceful honours of a fel- lowship {ciscrihi qidetis ordinibus .... Deorum) ; but no independent members were admitted below the rank of a gentleman-commoner, and our velvet cap was the cap of liberty. A tradition prevailed that some of our predecessors had spoken Latin declamations in the hall ; but of this ancient custom no vestige remained : the obvious methods of public exercises and examinations were totally unknown ; and I have never heard that either the president or F ()6 ME3I0IIIS OF CHAP. III. the society interfered in the private economy of the tutors and their pupils. The silence of the Oxford professors, which de- prives the youth of public instruction, is imper- fectly supplied by the tutors, as they are styled, of the several colleges. Instead of confining themselves to a single science, which had satisfied the ambition of Burman or Bernouilli, they teach, or promise to teach, either history or mathematics, or ancient literature, or moral philosophy ; and as it is possible that they may be defective in all, it is highly pro- bable that of some they will be ignorant. They are paid, indeed, by private contributions ; but their appointment depends on the head of the house: their diligence is voluntary, and will consequently be languid, while the pupils themselves, or their parents, are not indulged in the liberty of choice or change. The first tutor into whose hands I was resigned appears to have been one of the best of the tribe : Dr. Waldegrave was a learned and pious man, of a mild disposition, strict morals, and ab- stemious life, who seldom mingled in the politics or the jollity of the college. But his knowledge of the world was confined to the university ; his learning was of the last, rather than of the present age j his temper was indolent ; his faculties, which were not of the first rate, had been relaxed by the climate, and he was satisfied, like his fellows, with the sliirht and superficial discharge of an important trust. As soon as my tutor had sounded the insufficiency of his disciple in school-learning, he proposed that we should read every morning from ten to eleven the comedies of Terence. The sum of my improvement CHAP, III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 67 in tlie university of Oxford is confined to three or four Latin plays ; and even the study of an elegant classic, which might have been illustrated by a comparison of ancient and modern theatres, was reduced to a dry and literal interpretation of the author's text. During the first weeks I constantly attended these lessons in my tutor's room ; but as they appeared equally devoid of profit and pleasure, I was once tempted to try the experiment of a formal apology. The apology was accepted with a smile. I repeated the oflfence with less ceremony ; the excuse was admitted with the same indulgence : the slightest motive of laziness or indisposition, the most trifling avocation at home or abroad, was al- lowed as a worthy impediment ; nor did my tutor appear conscious of my absence or neglect. Had the hour of lecture been constantly filled, a single hour was a small portion of my academic leisure. No plan of study was recommended for my use ; no exercises were prescribed for his inspection ; and, at the most precious season of youth, whole days and weeks were suffered to elapse without labour or amusement, without advice or account. I should have listened to the voice of reason and of my tutor ; his mild behaviour had gained my confidence. I preferred his society to that of the younger students * j and in our evening walks to * Mr. Finden, an ancient Fellow once informed by Finden rather of Mjigdalen f'ollege, and a co- coarsely, but with sonic humour, temporary of Gib')on, told me that that if their heads were entirely his superior abilities were known scooped, Gibbon had brains sufli- to many, but that the gentleman- cient to su|)ply them all. — From commoners, of which number Gib- the learned and excellent presi- bon was one, were disposed to dent of Magdalen College — Dr. lauiih at his peculiarities ; and were Routh. — M. F 2 68 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. the top of Heddington-liill, we freely conversed on a variety of subjects. Since the days of Pocock and Hyde, Oriental learning has always been the pride of Oxford, and I once expressed an inclination to study Arabic. His prudence discouraged this childish fancy ; but he neglected the fair occasion of directing tlie ardour of a curious mind. During my absence in tlie Summer vacation, Dr Walde- grave * accepted a college living at Washington in Sussex, and on my return I no longer found him at Oxford. From that time I have lost sight of my first tutor ; but at the end of thirty years (I78I) he was still alive ; and the practice of exercise and temperance had entitled him to a healthy old age. The long recess between the Trinity and Mi- chaelmas terms empties the colleges of Oxford, as well as the courts of Westminster. I spent, at my father's house at Buriton in Hampshire, the two months of August and September. It is whimsical enough, that as soon as I left Magdalen College, my taste for books began to revive t j but * Dr. Waldegrave, the virtuous tensive, and that he has once been and learned friend of" (iibbon, is re- a Mahometan." — See Mr. Croker's ported to have said, wiien he heard note, Boswell, iii.33G. — M. of his embracing the Koman Ca- f Old Daniel Parker, the book- tholic religion, that he should seller at Oxford, gives us a few rather have thought he would have traits of (iibbon when at college, turned Mahometan ; alluding to " I knew him personally. He was his fondness for perusing the a singular character, and but little Arabic historians in the Latin trans- connected with the young gentle- lations. — Traditionary anecdote, men of his college. They admit at communicated by the learned pre- Magdalen College only men of sident of Magdalen College. — M. fortune — no conmioners. One It is odd enougli, tliat, at a later uncommon book for a young man period of his life, when Bos- I remember selling to him — La well observed that (iibbon, having Bibliothcfjuc Orientale D'llerbe- clian£:ed his religion so often, lot, which he seems much to have might end in " a methodist preach- used for authorities for his Eastern er," Johnson said, laughing, " It is lloman History." Gent. Mag. vol. said that his range has been more ex- Ixiv. p. 119. — M. CHAP. III. 3IY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 6f) it was the same blind and boyish taste for the pur- Suit of exotic history. Unprovided with original learning, unformed in the habits of thinking, un- skilled in the arts of composition, I resolved — to write a book. The title of this first essay, Tlie Age of Sesostn's, was perhaps suggested, by Vol- taire's Age of Louis XIV., which was new and popular ; but my sole object was to investigate the probable date of the life and reign of the conqueror of Asia. I was then enamoured of Sir John Mar- sham's Canon Chronicus* ; an elaborate work, of whose merits and defects I was not yet qualified to judge. According to his specious, though narrow plan, I settled my hero about the time of Solomon, in the tenth century before the Christian a^ra. It was therefore incumbent on me, unless I would adopt Sir Isaac Newton's shorter chronology, to remove a formidable objection ; and my solution, for a youth of fifteen, is not devoid of ingenuity. In his version of the Sacred Books, Manetho the high priest has identified Sethosis, or Sesostris, with the elder brother of Danaus, who landed in Greece, according to the Parian Marble, fifteen hundred and ten years before Christ. But in my supposition the high priest is guilty of a voluntary error : flattery is the prolific parent of falsehood. Manetho's history of Egypt t is dedicated to * Perhaps the chronological f The history of Manetho has part of Sir John Mar.sham's work latterl}' assumcil new importance, is that which least maintains his as apparently coinciding, at least fame ; hnt there are many his- to a certain extent, with the nio- torical ohservations in this learned nuniental history developed by volume of remarkable acuteness Chanipollion and his followers. — and ingenuity. — M, M. F 3 70 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. Ptolemy Philadelphus, who derived a fabulous or illegitimate pedigree from the Macedonian kings of the race of Hercules. Danaus is the ancestor of Hercules ; and after the failure of the elder branch, his descendants, the Ptolemies, are the sole representatives of the royal family, and may claim by inheritance the kingdom which they hold by conquest. Such were my juvenile discoveries ; at a riper age, I no longer presume to connect the Greek, the Jewish, and the Egyptian antiquities, which are lost in a distant cloud. Nor is this the only instance, in which the belief and knowledge of the child are superseded by the more rational ignorance of the man. During my stay at Buriton, my infant labour was diligently prosecuted, without much interruption from company or country di- versions J and I already heard the music of public applause. The discovery of my own weakness was the first symptom of taste. On my return to Oxford the age of Sesostris was wisely relin- quished ; but the imperfect sheets remained twenty years at the bottom of a drawer, till, in a general clearance of papers (November 1772), they were committed to the flames. After the departure of Dr. Waldegrave, I was transferred, with his other pupils, to his academical heir, whose literary character did not command the respect of the college. Dr. * * * * f well re- membered that he had a salary to receive, and only forgot that he had a duty to perform. Instead f I have not considered it rij^ht to insert this name, which Gibbon thouglit proper to suppress. — M. CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 71" of guiding the studies, and watching over the be- haviour of his disciple, I was never summoned to attend even the ceremony of a lecture ; and ex- cepting one voluntary visit to his rooms, during the eight months of his titular office, the tutor and pupil lived in the same college as strangers to each other. The want of experience, of advice, and of occupation soon betrayed me into some impro- prieties of conduct, ill-chosen company, late hours, and inconsiderate expense. My growing debts might be secret ; but my frequent absence was visible and scandalous : and a tour to Bath, a visit into Buckinghamshire, and four excursions to London in the same winter, were costly and dan- gerous frolics. They were indeed without a meaning, as without an excuse. The irksomeness of a cloistered life repeatedly tempted me to wander ; but my chief pleasure was that of tra- velling ; and I was too young and bashful to en- joy, like a Manly Oxonian in Town, the pleasures of London. In all these excursions I eloped from Oxford ; I returned to college ; in a few days I eloped again, as if I had been an independent stranger in a hired lodging, without once hearing the voice of admonition, without once feeling the hand of control. Yet my time was lost, my expenses were multiplied, my behaviour abroad was unknown ; folly as well as vice should have awakened the attention of my superiors, and my tender years would have justified a more than ordinary degree of restraint and discipline. It might at least be expected, that an ecclesi- astical school should inculcate the orthodox prin- F 4) 72 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. ciples of religion. But our venerable mother had contrived to miite the opposite extremes of bigotry and indifference ; an heretic, or unbeliever, was a monster in her eyes ; but she was always, or often, or, sometimes, remiss in the spiritual education of her own children. According to the statutes of the university, every student, before he is matri- culated, must subscribe his assent to the thirty- nine articles of the church of England, which are signed by more than read, and read by more than believe them. My insufficient age excused me, however, from the immediate performance of this legal ceremony ; and the vice-chancellor directed me to return, as soon as I should have accom- plished my fifteenth year ; recommending me, in the mean while, to the instruction of my college. My college forgot to instruct ; I forgot to return, and was myself forgotten by the first magistrate of the university. Without a single lecture, either public or private, either christian or protestant, without any academical subscription, without any episcopal confirmation, I was left by the dim light of my catechism to grope my way to the chapel and communion. table, where I was admitted, with- out a question, how far, or by what means, I might be qualified to receive the sacrament. Such almost incredible neglect was productive of the worst mischiefs. From my childhood I had been fond of religious disputation : my poor aunt has been often puzzled by the mysteries which she strove to believe ; nor had the elastic spring been totally broken by the weight of the atmosphere of Ox- ford. The blind activity of idleness urged me to advance without armour into the dangerous CHAP. in. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 7''^ mazes of controversy ; and at the age of sixteen, I bewildered myself in the errors of the church of Rome. The progress of my conversion may tend to illustrate at least the history of my own mind. It was not long since Dr. Middleton's free inquiry had sounded an alarm in the theological world : much ink and much gall had been spilt in the defence of the primitive miracles ; and the two dullest of their champions were crowned with academic honours by the university of Oxford. The name of Middleton was unpopular ; and his proscription very naturally led me to peruse his writings, and those of his antagonists.* His bold criticism, which approaches the precipice of infi- delity, produced on my mind a singular effect ; and had I persevered in the communion of Rome, I should now apply to my own fortune the prediction of the Sibyl, Via prima salutis, Quod minim e reris, Graia pandetur ab urbe. The elegance of style and freedom of argument were repelled by a shield of prejudice. I still re- vered the character, or rather the names, of the saints and fathers whom Dr. Middleton exposes ; nor could he destroy my implicit belief, that the gift of miraculous powers was continued in the church, during the first four or five centuries of Christianity. But I was unable to resist the weight of historical evidence, that within the same period most of the leading doctrines of popery were al- ready introduced in theory and practice : nor was * Dr. Dodwell and Dr. Clnirch. See Vindication of Free Inquiry, in Middleton's Works, vol. i. p.l90.— M. 74 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. my conclusion absurd, that miracles are the test of truth, and that the church must be orthodox and pure, which was so often approved by the visible interposition of the Deity. The marvellous tales which are so boldly attested by the Basils and Chrysostoms, the Austins and Jeroms, compelled me to embrace the superior merits of celibacy, the institution of the monastic life, the use of the sign of the cross, of holy oil, and even of images, the invocation of saints, the worship of relics, the rudi- ments of purgatory in prayers for the dead, and the tremendous mystery of the sacrifice of the body and blood of Christ, which insensibly swelled into the prodigy of transubstantiation. In these dispo- sitions, and already more tlian half a convert, I formed an unlucky intimacy with a young gentle- man of our college. With a character less resolute, Mr. Molesworth had imbibed the same religious opinions ; and some Popish books, I know not through what channel, were conveyed into his pos- session. I read, T applauded, I believed: the English translations of two famous works of Bos- suet, Bishop of Meaux, the Exposition of the Catholic Doctrine, and the History of the Protes- tant Variations, achieved my conversion, and I surely fell by a noble hand.' I have since ex- ' Mr. Gibbon never talked with me on the subject of his conversion to popery but once : and then he imputed his change to the works of I'arsons the Jesuit ^, who Hvcd in the reign of Khzal)eth, and who, he said, had urged all the best arguments in favour of the Roman catholic religion. — S. * These were probably Mr. sons, were likely to attract the Molesworth's books. The style, attention, and captivate the ad- singularly clear and vivid, as well miration of Gibbon. — M. as the arguments, of Father Par- CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 7^ amincd the originals with a more discerning eye, and shall not hesitate to pronounce, that Bossuet is indeed a master of all the weapons of contro- versy. In the Exposition, a specious apology, the orator assumes, with consummate art, the tone of candour and simplicity ; and the ten-horned monster is transformed, at his magic touch, into the milk- white hind, who must be loved as soon as she is seen. In the History, a bold and well-aimed attack, he displays, with a happy mixture of narra- tive and argument, the faults and follies, the changes and contradictions of our first reformers ; whose variations (as he dexterously contends) are the mark of historical error, while the perpetual unity of the catholic church is the sign and test of infallible truth. To my present feelings it seems incredible that I should ever believe that I believed in transubstantiation. But my conqueror op- pressed me with the sacramental words, ** Hoc est corpus meum," and dashed against each other the figurative half-meanings of the protestant sects : every objection was resolved into omnipotence ; and after repeating at St. Mary's the Athanasian creed, I humbly acquiesced in the mystery of the real presence. " To take up half on trust, and half to tr)', Name it not faith, but bungling bigotry. Both knave and fool, the merchant we may call. To pay great sums, and to compound the small. For who would break with Heaven, and would not break for all?"* No sooner had I settled my new religion than I resolved to profess myself a catholic. Youth is Dryden, " Hind and Panther," i. 141. 76 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. sincere and impetuous ; and a momentary glow of enthusiasm iiad raised me above all temporal con- siderations.- By the keen protestants, who would gladly reta- liate the example of persecution, a clamour is raised of the increase of popery: and they are always loud to declaim against the toleration of priests and Jesuits who pervert so many of his majesty's sub- jects from their religion and allegiance. On the present occasion, the fall of one or more of her sons directed this clamour against the university ; and it was confidently affirmed that popish mission- aries were suffered, under various disguises, to in- troduce themselves into the colleges of Oxford. But justice obliges me to declare that, as far as relates to myself, this assertion is false ; and that I never conversed with a priest or even with a pa- pist, till my resolution from books was absolutely fixed. In my last excursion to London, I ad- dressed myself to Mr. Lewis, a Roman catholic bookseller in Russell-street, Covent Garden, who recommended me to a priest, of whose name and order 1 am at present ignorant.^ In our first inter- view he soon discovered that persuasion was need- less. After sounding the motives and merits of my conversion, he consented to admit me into the pale of the church ; and at his feet on the eighth of June 1753, I solemnly, though privately, ab- - He described the letter to his father, announcing his conversion, as written with all the pomp, the dignity, and self-satisfaction of a martyr. — S. ' His name was Baker, a jcsnit, and one of the chaplains of the Sardinian ambassador. Mr. (iibbon's conversion made some noise ; and Mr. Lewis, the Roman catholic i)ookseller of Russcll-strcet, Covent Garden, was summoned before the Privy (louncil, and interrogated on tile subject. This was communicated by Mr. Lewis's son, 1814. — S. CHAP. JII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 77 jured tlie errors of lieresy. The seduction of an English youth of family and fortune was an act of as much danger as glory ; but he bravely over- looked the danger, of wliich I was not then suffi- ciently informed. " Where a person is reconciled to the see of Rome, or procures others to be recon- ciled, the offence (says Blackstone) amounts to high treason." And if the humanity of the age would prevent the execution of this sanguinary statute, there were other laws of a less odious cast, which condemned the priest to perpetual imprisonment, and transferred the proselyte's estate to his nearest relation. An elaborate controversial epistle, ap- proved by my director, and addressed to my father, announced and justified the step which I had taken. My father was neither a bigot nor a philosopher j but his affection deplored the loss of an only son ; and his good sense was astonished at my strange departure from the religion of my country. In the first sally of passion he divulged a secret which prudence might have suppressed, and the gates of Magdalen College were for ever shut against my return. Many years afterwards, when the name of Gibbon was become as notorious as that of Mid- dleton, it was industriously whispered at Oxford, that the historian had formerly '* turned papist :" my character stood exposed to the reproach of in- constancy ; and this invidious topic would have been handled without mercy by my opponents, could they have separated my cause from that of the university. For my own part, I am proud of an honest sacrifice of interest to conscience. I can never blush, if my tender mind was entangled in 78 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. the sophistry that seduced the acute and manly understandings of Ciiillingwortii andBAYLE, who afterwards emerged from superstition to scepticism. While Charles the First governed England, and was himself governed by a catholic queen, it cannot be denied that the missionaries of Rome laboured with impunity and success in the court, the country, and even the universities. One of the sheep, Whom the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said, is Mr. William Chillingworth, Master of Arts, and Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford ; who, at the ripe age of twenty-eight years, was persuaded to elope from Oxford, to the Englisli seminary at Douay in Flanders. Some disputes with Fisher, a subtle Jesuit, might first awaken him from the pre- judices of education ; but he yielded to his own victorious argument, " that there must be some- where an infallible judge ; and that the church of Rome is the only christian society which either does or can pretend to that character." After a short trial of a few months, Mr. Chillingworth was again tormented by religious scruples : he returned home, resumed his studies, unravelled his mistakes, and delivered his mind from the yoke of autliority and superstition. His new creed was built on the principle, that the Bible is our sole judge, and private reason our sole interpreter : and he ably maintains tliis principle in the Religion of a Pro- testant, a book which, after startling the doctors of Oxford, is still esteemed the most solid defence of the reformation. The learning, the virtue, the CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 70 recent merits of the author, entitled him to fair preferment : but the slave had now broken his fetters ; and the more he weighed, the less was he disposed to subscribe to the thirty-nine articles of the church of England. In a private letter he declares, with all the energy of language, that he could not subscribe to them without subscribing to his own damnation ; and that if ever he should depart from this immoveable resolution, he would allow his friends to think him a madman, or an atheist. As the letter is without a date, we cannot ascertain the number of weeks or months that elapsed between this passionate abhorrence and the Salisbury Register, which is still extant. ** Ego Gulielmus Chillingworth, omnibus hisce arti- culis, et singulis in iisdem contentis, volens et ex animo subscribo, et consensum meum iisdem praebeo. 20 die Julii 1638." But, alas ! the chan- cellor and prebendary of Sarum soon deviated from his own subscription ; as he more deeply scrutinised the article of the Trinity, neither scripture nor the primitive fathers could long uphold his orthodox belief; and he could not but confess, "that the doctrine of Arius is either a truth, or at least no damnable heresy." From this middle region of the air, the descent of his reason would naturally rest on the firmer ground of the Socinians : and if we may credit a doubtful story, and the popular opinion, his anxious inquiries at last subsided in philosophic indifference. So conspicuous, however, were the candour of his nature and the innocence of his heart, that this apparent levity did not affect the reputation of Chillingworth. His frequent 80 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. changes proceeded from too nice an inquisition into truth. His doubts grew out of himself; he assisted them with all the strength of his reason : he was then too hard for himself; but finding as little quiet and repose in those victories, he quickly recovered, by a new appeal to liis own judgment : so that in all his salUes and retreats, he was in fact his own convert. (') Bayle was the son of a Calvinist minister in a remote province in France, at the foot of the Py- renees. For the benefit of education, the pro- testants were tempted, to risk their children in the catholic universities; and in the twenty-second year of his age, young Bayle was seduced by the arts and arguments of the Jesuits of Thoulouse. He remained about seventeen months (19th March 1699 — 19th August 1670) in their hands, a volun- tary captive; and a letter to his parents, which the new convert composed or subscribed (15th April 1670), is darkly tinged with the spirit of popery. But nature had designed him to think as he pleased, and to vSpeak as he thought: his piety was offended by the excessive worship of creatures ; and the study of physics convinced him of the impossibility of transubstantiation, which is abundantly refuted by the testimony of our senses. His return to the communion of a falling sect was a bold and disin- terested step, that ex])osed him to the rigour of the laws ; and a speedy flight to Geneva protected him from the resentment of his spiritual tyrants, un- conscious, as they were, of the full value of the prize which they had lost. Had Bayle adhered to the catholic church, had he embraced the ecclesiastical CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 81 profession, the genius and favour of such a proselyte might hav^e aspired to wealth and honours in his native country : but the hypocrite would have found less happiness in the comforts of a benefice, or the dignity of a mitre, than he enjoyed at Rotterdam in a private state of exile, indigence, and freedom. Without a country, or a patron, or a prejudice, he claimed the liberty and subsisted by the labours of his pen : the inequality of his volu- minous works is explained and excused by his alternately writing for himself, for the booksellers, and for posterity ; and if a severe critic would reduce him to a single folio, that relic, like the books of the Sybil, would become still more valuable. A calm and lofty spectator of the re- ligious tempest, the philosopher of Rotterdam con- demned with equal firmness the persecution of Louis the Fourteenth, and the republican maxims of the Calvinists ; their vain prophecies, and the intolerant bigotry which sometimes vexed his soli- tary retreat. In reviewing the controversies of the times, he turned against each other the arguments of the disputants ; successively wielding the arms of the catholics and protestants, he proves that neither the way of authority nor the way of ex- amination can afford the multitude any test of religious truth ; and dexterously concludes that custom and education must be the solegrounds of po- pular belief. The ancient paradox of Plutarch, that atheism is less pernicious than superstition, acquires a tenfold vigor, when it is adorned with the colours of his wit, and pointed with the acuteness of his logic. His critical dictionary is a vast repository G 82 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. of facts and opinions ; and he balances the false rehgions in his sceptical scales, till the opposite quantities (if I may use the language of algebra) annihilate each other. The wonderful power which he so boldly exercised, of assembling doubts and objections, had tempted him jocosely to assume the title of the v£<^e'hr,yB^sra Zsi;^, the cloud-com- pelling Jove ; and in a conversation with the in- genious Abbe (afterwards Cardinal) de Polignac, he freely disclosed his universal Pyrrhonism. " I am most truly (said Bayle) a protestant ; for I protest indifferently against all systems and all sects.''* The academical resentment, which I may pos- sibly have provoked, will prudently spare this plain narrative of my studies, or rather of my idleness j and of the unfortunate event which shortened the term of my residence at Oxford. But it may be suggested, that my father was unlucky in the choice of a society, and the chance of a tutor. It will perhaps be asserted, that in the lapse of forty years many improvements have taken place in the college and in the university. I am not unwilling to believe, that some tutors might have been found more active than Dr. Waldegrave and less contemptible than Dr. ****. At a more recent period, many students have been attracted by the merit and reputation of Sir William Scott, then a tutor in University College, and now conspicuous in the profession of the civil law : my personal acquaintance with that gentleman * Compare with this the clever la Litterature du xviilme Siecle, by character of Bayle in the Kssai sur M, de Barante.— M. CHAP. III. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 83 has inspired me with a just esteem for his abilities and knowledge ; and I am assured that his lectures on history would compose, were they given to the public, a most valuable treatise.* Under the auspices of the late Deans, a more regular discipline has been introduced, as I am told, at Christ Church (2); a course of classical and philosophical studies is pro- posed, and even pursued, in that numerous semi- nary : learning has been made a duty, a pleasure, and even a fashion ; and several young gentlemen do honour to the college in which they have been educated. According to the will of the donor, the profit of the second part of Lord Clarendon's History has been applied to the establishment of a riding-school, that the polite exercises might be taught, I know not with what success, in the uni- versity.(3) TheVinerian professorship is of far more serious importance ; the laws of his country are the first science of an Englishman of rank and fortune, who is called to be a magistrate, and may hope to be a legislator. This judicious institution was coldly entertained by the graver doctors, who com- * These lectures were left, on are passages,which, for originality of the decease of Sir W. Scott (Lord thought, masculine good sense, and Stowell) in an imperfect state, with exquisite felicity of language, make a strict injunction against their me regret the sentence which has publication. By the friendly con- been passed upon them, by the re- fidcnce of Lord Sidmouth, one of serve or the diffidence of the author. Lord Stowell's executors, I have One lecture in particular, contain- been permitted to read these papers, ing a more general view of society. From the extraordinary progress struck me as a mastei-piece of which has been recently made in composition, and as an example of the study of Grecian antiquities English prose, peculiar indeed, and by the scholars of Germany, the characteristic of the writer ; but in lectures which relate to those sub- purity, terseness, and a kind of jects would be found, perhaps, not sententious vigour, rarely equalled, quite to rise to the level of mo- perhaps not surpassed, in the whole dern knowledge; but in all, there range of our literature. — M. G 2 8i MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. plained (I have heard the complaint) that it would take the young people from their books ; but Mr. Viner's benefaction is not unprofitable, since it has at least produced the excellent commentaries of Sir William Blackstone. (4) NOTES AND ADDITIONS. No> 1. page 80. To this eloquent account we have only one objection, that it too lightly adopts that rumour which was propagated against Chil- lingwortli by tlie bigots of his own age, of his having " subsided into that philosophic indifference," which might have been honourable in the eyes of Mr. Gibbon, but which we do not believe to have been so in those of Chillingworth. To adopt the charges of bigots is not worthy of a philosopher. Chillingworth was called an infidel by the zealots of his age, because he was moderate, candid, and rational ; in the same manner that impostors, clad in the disguise of bigots, now call Priestley worse than an atheist! The Christianity of Chillingworth is certainly not altogether in dogma, and not at all in spirit, the same with that of Horsley : but it is perfectly coincident, both in doc- trine and spirit, with the Christianity of Locke and Clarke, of Watson and Paley. As long as the religion of the gospel continues to be professed and defended in its own genuine spirit by the greatest masters of human reason, it can neither be exposed by the scoffs of enemies, nor even endangered by the fury of pretended friends. — Monthly Review, N. S. vol. xx. p. 87., by Sir James Mackintosh. — M. No. 2. page 83. This was written on the information Mr. Gibbon had received, and the observation he had made, previous to his late residence at Lausanne. During his last visit to England, he had an opportunity of seeing at Sheffield Place some young men of the college above alluded to ; he had great satisfaction in conversing with them, made many inquiries respecting their course of study, applauded the discipline of Christ Church, and the liberal attention shown i)y the Dean to those whose only recommendation was their merit. Had Mr. (iibbon lived to revise this work, I am sure he would have mentioned the name of CHAP. III. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 85 Dr, Jackson witli the highest commendation : and also that of Dr. Bagot, Bishop of St. Asaph, whose attention to the duties of iiis office while he was Dean of Christ Church was unremitted ; and to v\hom, perhaps that college is more indebted for the good discipline introduced there, than to any other person whatever. There are other colleges at Oxford, with whose discipline my friend was unacquainted, to which, without doubt, he would willingly have allowed their due praise, par- ticularly Brazen Nose and Oriel Colleges ; the former under the care of Dr. Cleaver, Bishop of Chester, the latter under that of Dr. Evcleigh. It is still greatly to be wished that the general expense, or rather ex- travagance, of young men at our English universities may be more effectually restrained. The expense, in which they are permitted to indulge, is inconsistent not only with a necessary degree of study, but with those habits of morality which should be promoted, by all means possible, at an early period of life. An academical education in England is at present an object of alarm and terror to every thinking parent of moderate fortune. It is the apprehension of the expense, of the dissipation, and other evil consequences, which arise from the want of proper restraint at our own universities, that forces a number of our English youths to those of Scotland, and utterly excludes many from any sort of academical instruction. If a charge be true, which I have heard insisted on, that the heads of our colleges in Oxford and Cambridge are vain of having under their care chiefly men of opulence, who may be supposed exempt from the necessity of economical control, they are indeed highly censurable ; since the mischief of allowing early habits of expense and dissipation is great, in various respects, even to those possessed of large property ; and the most serious evil from this indulgence must happen to youths of humbler fortune, who certainly form the majority of students both at Oxford and Cambridge. — S. Since these observations appeared, a sermon, with very copious notes, has been published by the Reverend Dr. Parr, wherein he complains of the scantiness of praise bestowed on those who were educated at the universities of England. I digressed merely to speak of the few heads of colleges of whom I had at that time heard, or with whom I was acquainted, and I did not allude to any others educated there. I have further to observe, that I have not met with any person who lived at the time to which Mr. Gibbon alludes, who was not of opinion that his representation, at least of his own college, was just: and such was the opinion of that accomplished, ingenious, and zealous friend of the universit)', the late Mr. Windham ; but every man, acquainted with the former and present state of the university, will acknowledge the vast improvements which have of late been introduced into the plan and conduct of education in the universit}'. — S. A good education at Oxford might have made Gibbon a chris- G 3 86 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. III. tian, and at what sacrifice would we not have purchased that result ! Yet perhaps, in all other respects, his laborious self-education better qualified him for a great historian. Self-instructed minds are rwe, but they are in general the best instructed. A mind like Gibbon's would be in danger of resentfully breaking loose from the trammels, I do not mean of salutary religious and moral discipline, but of a prescribed rule and plan of study, which would confine the insatiable appetite for research and variety of knowledge. — M. No. 3, page 83. See the advertisement to Lord Clarendon's "Religion and Policy," published at the Clarendon Press, 1811. It appears that the property is vested in certain trustees, who have probably found it impracticable to carry the intentions of the testator into effect. If, as I am in- formed, the riding-school depends in the least on the sale of tlie *' Religion and Policy," the university is not likely soon to obtain instruction in that useful and manly exercise. — M No. 4. page 84. The total change which has taken place in the system of edu- cation at Oxford renders these observations of Gibbon, which I have understood from the best authority to be by no means exaggerated, matters of history. For that change I should be ungrateful, if I did not express my gratitude. This is not the place to enter into a discussion on the best plan of academical education, or on the com- parative merits of instruction by the lectures of professors, or the tutorial system as now maintained at Oxford. But it may be questioned whether, in becoming a more effective school, Oxford has not abandoned more tiian is necessary the character of an uni- versity. The remedy appears to me extremely simple : the uni- versity should insist on the schools for earlier instruction performing their part in the work of education, and protect its tutors from being degraded into teachers of the rudiments of the learned languages, as is now too often the case, by making the examination on ad- mission (as is done in some colleges) a real, not a formal one. If the pupils came to the university in the proper state of advancement, the examination for the degree miglit take place earlier ; and a full year be reserved for those branches of knowledge, which are best taught by professors in their lectures, and which do not now form a part in the regular course of academic instruction. — M. CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 87 CHAP. IV. The Author is removed to Lausanne, and placed under the care of M, Pavilliard. — JReJlections on his change of Situ- ation. — Character of M. Pavilliai'd^ and an Account of his manner of restoring Mr. Gibbon to the Protestant Church. — Mr. Gibbon received the Sacrament in the Church of Lausanne on Christmas-day, 1754. — The Au- thor's Account of the Books he read, and of the Course of Study he pursued. — Makes the Tour of Switzerland ; forms a Correspondence with several Literary Characters ; is introduced to Voltaire, and sees him perform several Characters in his oicn Plays. — Remarks on his Acting.—^ Some Account of Mademoiselle Curchod [afterwards Ma- dame Necker). — Reflections on his Education at Lausanne. — He returns to England. After carrying me to Putney, to the house of his friend Mr. Mallet ^ by whose philosophy I was rather scandalized than reclaimed, it was necessary for my father to form a new plan of education, and to devise some method which, if possible, might effect the cure of my spiritual malady. After much debate it was determined, from the advice and per- sonal experience of Mr. Eliot (now Lord Eliot), to fix me, during some years, at Lausanne in Swit- zerland. Mr. Frey, a Swiss gentleman of Basil, undertook the conduct of the journey : we left London the 19th of June, crossed the sea from ' The author of a Life of Bacon, which has been rated above its value ; of some forgotten poems and plays ; and of the [)athetic ballad of William and Margaret. — His tenets were deistical ; perhaps a stronger term might have been used^ — S. G 4 88 MEMOIRS OF CHAr. IV. Dover to Calais, travelled post through several pro- vinces of France, by the direct road of St. Quentin, Rlieims, Langres, and Besan9on, and arrived the SOtli of June at Lausanne, where I was immedi- ately settled under the roof and tuition of Mr. Pa- vilHard, a Calvinist minister. The first marks of my father's displeasure rather astonished than afflicted me : when he threatened to banish, and disown, and disinherit a rebellious son, I cherished a secret hope that he would not be able or willing to effect his menaces ; and tlie pride of conscience encouraged me to sustain the honourable and important part which I was now acting.* My spirits were raised and kept alive by the rapid motion of my journey, the new and various scenes of the Continent, and the civility of Mr. Frey, a man of sense, who was not ignorant of books or the world. But after he had resigned me into Pavilliard's hands, and I was fixed in my new liabitation, I had leisure to contemplate the strange and melancholy prospect before me. My first complaint arose from my ignorance of the * " The son of an English pro- " * fill society.' But the young man, " tcstant gentleman must, at all " still adhering with the pertiiia- " events, be cured of popery. For " city of a confessor to liis catho- " this purpose tlie method em- " lie principles, was, after some " ployed by iiis father, wlio appears " months, removed into the iamily "to have been a capricious and " of a Swiss minister, where he be- " ill-judging man, resembles the " held Cln-istianit}' nnder a third " unskilful process in medicine by " modification, [)oor, and gloomy, " which a painful disorder, after " and S()ualiil, devoid of what he " being dislodged from the ex- " acconnted tlie decent and gentle- " treniities, is tiirown upon tlie " manly indifference of the Church " vital jiarts. Young (iiil)l)on was " of Eughmd, or the gorgeous and " placed under the care of Mallet, " imposing exterior of that of " the publisher of the works of " Rome." — Whitaker (the historian " liolingbroke, a deist at best, but ■ of Craven), in Quarterly Review, " probal)ly something more, and vol. xii. p. 377. — M. "worse. Now, tiiis was ' worship- CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 89 language. In my childhood I had once studied the French grammar, and I could imperfectly un- derstand the easy prose of a familiar subject. But when I was thus suddenly cast on a foreign land, I found myself deprived of the use of speech and of hearing ; and, during some weeks, incapable not only of enjoying the })leasures of conversation, but even of asking or answering a question in the common intercourse of life. To a home-bred Englishman every object, every custom was of- fensive ; but the native of any country might have been disgusted by the general aspect of his lodging and entertainment. I had now exchanged my elegant apartment in Magdalen College, for a narrow, gloomy street, the most unfrequented of an unhandsome town, for an old inconvenient house, and for a small chamber ill-contrived and ill-furnished, which on the approach of Winter, instead of a companionable fire, must be warmed by the dull invisible heat of a stove. From a man I was again degraded to the dependance of a school- boy. Mr. Pavilliard managed my expenses, which had been reduced to a diminutive state: I received a small monthly allowance for my pocket-money ; and helpless and awkward as I have ever been, I no longer enjoyed the indispensable comfort of a servant. My condition seemed as destitute of hope, as it was devoid of pleasure : I was separated for an indefinite, which appeared an infinite term from my native country ; and I had lost all connection with my catholic friends. I have since reflected with surprise, that as the Romish clergy of every part of Europe maintain a close correspondence 90 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IV. with each other, they never attempted, by letters or messages, to rescue me from the hands of the heretics, or at least to confirm my zeal and con- stancy in the profession of the faith. Such was my first introduction to Lausanne ; a place where I spent nearly five years with pleasure and profit, which I afterwards revisited without compulsion, and which I have finally selected as the most grateful retreat for the decline of my life. But it is the peculiar felicity of youth that the most unpleasing objects and events seldom make a deep or lasting impression •, it forgets the past, enjoys the present, and anticipates the future. At the flexible age of sixteen I soon learned to endure, and gradually to adopt, the new forms of arbitrary manners : the real hardships of my situa- tion were alienated by time. Had I been sent abroad in a more splendid style, such as the fortune and bounty of my father might have supplied, I might have returned home with the same stock of language and science, which our countrymen usually import from the Continent. An exile and a prisoner as I was, their example betrayed me into some irregularities of wine, of play, and of idle excursions : but I soon felt the impossibility of associating with them on equal terms ; and after the departure of my first acquaintance, I held a cold and civil correspondence with their suc- cessors. This seclusion from English society was attended with the most solid benefits. In the Pays de J^aud., the French language is used with less imperfection than in most of the distant pro- vinces of France : in Pavilliard's fiunily, necessity CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 91 compelled me to listen and to speak ; and if I was at first disheartened by the apparent slowness, in a few months I was astonished by the rapidity of my progress. My pronunciation was formed by the constant repetition of the same sounds ; the variety of words and idioms, the rules of grammar, and distinctions of genders, were impressed in my memory : ease and freedom were obtained by practice ; correctness and elegance by labour ; and before I was recalled home, French, in which I spontaneously thought, was more familiar than English to my ear, my tongue, and my pen. The first effect of this opening knowledge was the re- vival of my love of reading, which had been chilled at Oxford ; and I soon turned over, without much choice, almost all the French books in my tutor's library. Even these amusements were productive of real advantage : my taste and judgment were now somewhat riper. I was introduced to a new mode of style and literature j by the comparison of manners and opinions, my views were enlarged, my prejudices were corrected, and a copious volun- tary abstract of the Histoire de VEglise et de V Empire, by le Sueur*, may be placed in a middle line between my childish and my manly studies. As soon as I was able to converse with the natives, I began to feel some satisfaction in their company : * Histoire de I'Eglise et de testant ; the work was not of very l'Empire,&c.&c. par Jean le Sueur, high pretensions, nor of merit ex- a Geneve, IGT'i. The first edition ceeding its pretensions. It was, I was in -ito., the second in 8 vols, believe, the common church liis- 12mo. It was reprinted, witli a tory of the French protestant continuation by Benedict Pictet, clergy in Switzerland. — M. in 1730-2. Le Sueur was a pro- 92 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IV. my awkward timidity was polished and embol- dened ; and I frequented for the first time as- semblies of men and \voinen. The acquaintance of the Pavilliards prepared me by degrees for more elegant society. I was received with kindness and indulgence in the best families of Lausanne ; and it was in one of these that I formed an intimate and lasting connection with Mr. Deyverdun, a young man of an amiable temper and excellent un- derstanding. In the arts of fencing and dancing, small indeed was my proficiency ; and some months were idly wasted in the riding-school. My un- fitness to bodily exercise reconciled me to a se- dentary life, and the horse, the favourite of my countrymen, never contributed to the pleasures of my youth. My obligations to the lessons of Mr. Pavilliard, gratitude will not suffer me to forget : he was en- dowed with a clear head and a warm heart ; his innate benevolence had assuaged the spirit of the church ; he was rational, because he was moderate : in the course of his studies he had acquired a just though superficial knowledge of most branches of literature ; by long practice, he was skilled in the arts of teaching ; and he laboured with assiduous patience to know the character, gain the affection, and open the mind of his English pupil. (1) As soon as we began to understand each other, he gently led me, from a blind and undistinguishing love of reading, into the path of instruction. I consented with pleasure that a portion of the morning hours should be consecrated to a plan of modern history and geography, and to the critical CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. QS perusal of the French and Latin classics: and at each step I felt myself invigorated by the habits of application and method. His prudence repressed and dissembled some youthful sallies ; and as soon as I was confirmed in the habits of industry and temperance, he gave the reins into my own hands. His favourable report of my behaviour and pro- gress gradually obtained some latitude of action and expense ; and he wished to alleviate the hard- ships of my lodging and entertainment. The prin- ciples of philosophy were associated with the ex- amples of taste ; and by a singular chance, the book, as well as the man, which contributed the most effectually to my education, has a stronger claim on my gratitude than on my admiration. Mr, De Crousaz, the adversary of Bayle and Pope, is not distinguished by lively fancy or profound reflection ; and even in his own country, at the end of a few years, his name and writings are almost obliterated. But his philosophy had been formed in the school of Locke, his divinity in that of Limborch and Le Clerc ; in a long and laborious life, several generations of pupils were taught to think, and even to write j his lessons rescued the academy of Lausanne from Calvinistic prejudice ; and he had the rare merit of diffusing a more liberal spirit among the clergy and peo})le of the Pays de Vaud. His system of logic, which in the last editions has swelled to six tedious and prolix volumes, may be praised as a clear and methodical abridgment of the art of reasoning, from our simple ideas to the most complex operations of the human understanding. This system I studied, and medi- 94 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IV. tated, and abstracted, till I obtained the free command of an universal instrument, which I soon presumed to exercise on my catholic opinions. PavilHard was not unmindful that his first task, his most important duty, was to reclaim me from the errors of popery. The intermixture of sects has rendered the Swiss clergy acute and learned on the topics of controversy ; and I have some of his letters in which he celebrates the dexterity of his attack, and my gradual concessions, after a firm and well-managed defence.(2) I was willing, and I am now willing, to allow him a handsome share of the honour of my conversion : yet I must observe, that it was principally effected by my private re- flections; and I still remember my solitary transport at the discovery of a philosophical argument against the doctrine of fi'ansubstantiation : that the text of scripture, which seems to inculcate the real presence, is attested only by a single sense — our sight ; while the real presence itself is disproved by three of our senses — the sight, the touch, and the taste. The various articles of the Romish creed disappeared like a dream j and after a full con- viction, on Christmas-day 1751, I received the sacrament in the church of Lausanne. It was here that I suspended my religious inquiries, acquiescing with implicit belief in the tenets and mysteries, which are adopted by the general con- sent of catholics and protestants. Such, from my arrival at Lausanne, during the first eighteen or twenty months (July 17-53 — March 1755), were my useful studies, the foundation of all my future improvements. But every man who CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 95 rises above the common level has received two edu- cations : the first from his teachers ; the second, more personal and important, from himself. He will not, like the fanatics of the last age, define the moment of grace ; but he cannot forget the aera of his life, in which his mind has expanded to its proper form and dimensions. My worthy tutor had the good sense and modesty to discern how far he could be useful : as soon as he felt that I ad- vanced beyond his speed and measure, he wisely left me to my genius ; and the hours of lesson were soon lost in the voluntary labour of the whole morning, and sometimes of the whole day. The desire of prolonging my time, gradually confirmed the salutary habit of early rising, to which I have always adhered, with some regard to seasons and situations : but it is happy for my eyes and my health, that my temperate ardour has never been seduced to trespass on the hours of the night. During the last three years of my residence at Lausanne, I may assume the merit of serious and solid application j but I am tempted to distinguish the last eight months of the year 1755, as the period of the most extraordinary diligence and rapid progress.^ In my French and Latin translations 2 Journal, December 1755. — In finishing this year, I must re- mark how favourable it was to my studies. In the space of eight months, from the beginning of April, I learnt the principles of drawing; made myself complete master of the French and Latin languages, with which I was very superficially acquainted before, and wrote and trans- lated a great deal in both ; read Cicero's Epistles ad Familiares, his Brutus, all his Orations, his Dialogues de Amicitia, and De Senectute j Terence, twice ; and Pliny's Epistles. In French, Giannone's History of Naples, and I'Abbe Bannier's Mythology, and M. De Boehat's Memoires sur la Suisse, and wrote a very ample relation of my tour. I likewise began to study Greek, and went through the Grammar. I began to make very large collections of what I read. But what I es- 96 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IV. I adopted an excellent method, which, from my own success, I would recommend to tlie imitation of students. I chose some classic writer, such as Cicero and Vertot, the most approved for purity and elegance of style. I translated, for instance, an epistle of Cicero into French ; and after throwing it aside, till the words and phrases were obhterated from my memory, I re-translated my French into such Latin as I could find ; and then compared each sentence of my imperfect version, with the ease, the grace, the propriety of the Roman orator. A similar experiment was made on several pages of the Revolutions of Vertot ; I turned them into Latin, returned them after a sufficient interval into my own French, and again scrutinized the re- semblance or dissimilitude of the copy and the ori- ginal. By degrees I. was less ashamed, by degrees I was more satisfied with myself; and I persevered in the practice of these double translations, which filled several books, till I had accpiired the knowledge of both idioms, and the command at least of a correct style. This useful exercise of writing was accom- panied and succeeded by the more pleasing occu- pation of reading the best authors. The perusal of the Roman classics was at once my exercise and reward. Dr. Middlcton's History *, which I then teem most of all, from the perusal and meditation of De Crousaz's Logic, I not only understcwd the principles of that science, but formed my mind to a habit of thinking and reasoning I had no idea of before. * The irremediable defect of that it is grounded so much on Middlcton's work, which from its those epistles wliicli modern cri- finished style will continue probably ticisni rejects with unhesitating to occupy this favoured ground, is, confidence. — M. CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 97 appreciated above its true value, naturally directed me to tlie writings of Cicero. The most perfect editions, that of Olivet, which may adorn the shelves of the rich, that of Ernesti, which should lie on the table of the learned, were not within my reach. For the familiar epistles I used. the text and English commentary of Bishop Ross ; but my general edition was that of Verburgius, published at Amsterdam in two large volumes in folio, witli an indifferent choice of various notes. I read, with application and pleasure, all the epistles, all the orations, and the most important treatises of rhe- toric and philosophy ; and as I read, I applauded the observation of Quintilian, that every student mayjudge of his own proficiency, by the satisfaction which he receives from the Roman orator. I tasted the beauties of language, I breathed the spirit of freedom, and I imbibed from his precepts and* ex- amples the public and private sense of a man. Cicero in Latin, and Xenophon in Greek, are indeed tlie two ancients whom I would first propose to a liberal scholar ; not only for the merit of their style and sentiments, but for the admirable lessons, which may be applied almost to every situation of public and private life. Cicero's Epistles may in particular afford the models of every form of correspondence, from the careless effusions of tenderness and friend- ship, to the well-guarded declaration of discreet and dignihed resentment. After finishing this great author, a library of eloquence and reason, I formed a more extensive plan of reviewing the Latin classics ^, 3 Journal, Janiuiry 17.3(3. — I cleteriniiicd to read over the Latin authors in order ; and read this year, Virgil, Salhist, Livy, Vclleius H 98 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IV. under the four divisions of, 1. liistorians, 2. poets, 3. orators, and 4. philosophers, in a chronological series, from the days of Plautus and Sallust, to the decline of the language and empire of Rome : and this plan, in the last twenty-seven months of my re- sidence at Lausanne (January 1756 — April ly^S), I nearlt/ accomplished. Nor was this review, how- ever rapid, either hasty or superficial. I indulged myself in a second and even a third perusal of Terence, Virgil, Horace, Tacitus, &c. and studied to imbibe the sense and spirit most congenial to my own. I never suffered a difficult or corrupt passage to escape, till I had viewed it in every light of which it was susceptible : though often disap- pointed, I always consulted the most learned or in- genious commentators, Torrentius and Dacier on Horace, Catrou and Servius on Virgil, Lipsius on Tacitus, Meziriac on Ovid, &c. ; and in the ardour of my inquiries, I embraced a large circle of his- torical and critical erudition. My abstracts of each book were made in the French language : my ob- servations often branched into particular essays j and I can still read, without contempt, a dissertation of eight folio pages on eight lines ('287 — 294.) of the fourth Georgic of Virgil. Mr. Deyverdun, my friend, whose name will be frequently repeated, had joined with equal zeal, though not with equal per- severance, in the same undertaking. To him every thought, every com})osition, was instantly commu- Patcrculus, Valerius Maximus, Tacitus, Suetonius, Quintus Curtius, Justin, Florus, Plautus, Terence, and Lucretius. I also read and meditated Locke upon the Understanding. CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 99 nicated ; with him I enjoyed the benefits of a free conversation on the topics of our common studies. But it is scarcely possible for a mind endowed with any active curiosity to be long conversant with the Latin classics, without aspiring to know the Greek originals, whom they celebrate as their masters, and of whom they so warmly recommend the study and imitation ; Vos exemplaria Graeca Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna. It was now that I regretted the early years which had been wasted in sickness or idleness, or mere idle reading ; that I condemned the perverse me- thod of our schoolmasters, who, by first teaching the mother language, might descend with so much ease and perspicuity to the origin and etymology of a derivative idiom. In the nineteenth year of my age I determined to supply this defect ; and the lessons of Pavilliard again contributed to smooth the entrance of the way, the Greek alphabet, tlie grammar, and the pronunciation according to the French accent. At my earnest request we pre- sumed to open the Iliad; and I had the pleasure of beholding, though darkly and through a glass, the true image of Homer, whom I had long since ad- mired in an English dress. After my tutor had left me to myself, I worked my way through about half the Iliad, and afterwards interpreted alone a large portion of Xenophon and Herodotus. But my ardour, destitute of aid and emulation, was gradually cooled, and, from the barren task of searching words in a lexicon, I withdrew to the free and familiar conversation of Virgil and Tacitus. H 2 100 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IV. Yet in my residence at Lausanne I had laid a solid foundation, wliicli enabled me, in a more propi- tious season, to prosecute the study of Grecian literature. From a blind idea of the usefulness of such ab- stract science, my father had been desirous, and even pressing, that I should devote some time to the mathematics(3) j nor could I refuse to comply with so reasonable a wish. Duringtwo winters I attendedthe private lectures of Monsieur de Traytorrens, who explained the elements of algebra and geometry, as far as the conic sections of the Marquis de I'Hopital, and appeared satisfied with my dili- gence and improvement.'* But as my childish propensity for numbers and calculations was totally extinct, I was content to receive the passive im- pression of my Professor's lectures, without any active exercise of my own powers. As soon as I understood the principles, I relinquished for ever the pursuit of the mathematics ; nor can I lament that I desisted, before my mind was hardened by the habit of rigid demonstration, so destructive of the finer feelings of moral evidence, which must, however, determine the actions and opinions of our 4 Journal, January 17o7. — I began to study algebra under M. dc Traytorrens, went through the elements of algebra and geometry, and the three first books of the Marquis de riI6[)itars ("onic Sections. I also read Tibullus, Catullus, Propertius, Horace (with Dacier's and Torrentius's notes), Virgil, Ovid's E])istles, with Meziriac's Com- mentary, the Ars Ainandi, and the Elegies; likewise the Augustus and Tiberius of Suetonius, and a Latin translation of Dion Cassius, from the death of Julius Cicaar to the death of Augustus. I also continued my correspondence begun last > ear with INI. Allamand of Bex, and the Professor Breitinger, of Zurich ; and opened a new one with the Pro- fessor Gesner of Oottingen. N.B. Last year and this, I read St. John's (iospcl, with part of Xenophon's Cyrojjaidia ; the Iliad, and Herodotus : but, upon the whole, 1 rather neglected my Greek. CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 101 lives. (1) I listened with more pleasure to the pro- posal of studying the law of nature and nations, which was taught in the academy of Lausanne by Mr. Vicat, a professor of some learning and repu- tation. But, instead of attending his public or pri- vate course, I preferred in my closet the lessons of his masters, and my own reason. Without being disgusted by Grotius or Puffendorf, I studied in their writings the duties of a man, the rights of a citizen, the theory of justice (it is, alas ! a theory), and the laws of peace and war, which have had some influence on the practice of modern Europe. My fatigues were alleviated by the good sense of their commentator Barbeyrac. Locke's Treatise of Government instructed me in the knowledge of Whig principles, which are rather founded in reason than experience ; but my delight was in the fre- quent perusal of Montesquieu, whose energy of style, and boldness of hypothesis, were powerful to awaken and stimulate the genius of the age. The logic of De Crousaz had prepared me to engage with his master Locke, and his antagonist Bayle ; of whom the former may be used as a bridle, and the latter as a spur, to the curiosity of a young philosopher. (5) According to the nature of their respective works, the schools of argument and ob- jection, I carefully went through the Essay on Human Understanding, and occasionally consulted the most interesting articles of the Philosophic Dic- tionary. In the infancy of my reason I turned over, as an idle amusement, the most serious and im- portant treatise : in its maturity, the most trifling performance could exercise my taste or judgment; H 3 102 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IV. and more than once I have been led by a novel into a deep and instructive train of thinking. But I cannot forbear to mention three particular books, since they may liave remotely contributed to form the historian of the Roman empire. 1. From the Provincial letters of Pascal, which almost every year I have perused with new pleasure, I learned to manage the weapon of grave and temperate irony, even on subjects of ecclesiastical solemnity.* 2. The Life of Julian, by the Abbe de la Bleterie, first introduced me to the man and the times j and I should be glad to recover my first essay on the truth of the miracle which stopped the rebuilding of the temple of Jerusalem. 3. In Giannone's Civil History of Naples, I observed with a critical eye the progress and abuse of sacerdotal power, and the revolutions of Italy in the darker ages. This various reading, which I now conducted with dis- cretion, was digested, according to the precept and model of Mr. Locke, into a large common-place book ; a practice, however, which I do not strenu- ously recommend. The action of the pen will doubtless im])rint an idea on the mind as well as on the paper : but I much question whether the benefits of this laborious method are adequate to the waste of time ; and I must agree with Dr. Johnson (Idler, No. 74.), "that what is twice read, is commonly better remembered, than what is transcribed." During two years, if I forget some boyish ex- cursions of a day or a week, I was fixed at Lau- * The sublime author of the fluence of his own work on minds Pcnsces would have shuddered if like those of Voltaire and Gibbon, he could have foreseen the in- — M. CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 103 sanne ; but at the end of the third summer, my father consented tliat I sliould make the tour of Switzerland witli Pavilliard : and our short absence of one month (September 21st — October 20th, 1755) was a reward and relaxation of my assiduous studies. (6) The fashion of climbing the mountains and reviewing the Glaciers^ had not yet been in- troduced by foreign travellers, who seek the sub- lime beauties of nature. But the political face of the country is not less diversified by the forms and spirit of so many various republics, from the jealous government of the few to the licentious freedom of the many. I contemplated with pleasure the new prospects of men and manners ; though my conversation with the natives would have been more free and instructive, had I possessed the German, as well as the French language. "We passed through most of the principal towns in Swit- zerland ; Neufchatel, Bienne, Soleurre, Arau,Baden, Zurich, Basil, and Bern. In every place we visited the churches, arsenals, libraries, and all the most eminent persons ; and after my return, I digested my notes in fourteen or fifteen sheets of a French journal, which I dispatched to my father, as a proof that my time and his money had not been mis- spent. Had I found this journal among his papers, I might be tempted to select some passages ; but I will not transcribe the printed accounts, and it may be sufficient to notice a remarkable spot, which left a deep and lasting impression on my memory. From Zurich we proceeded to the Benedictine Abbey of Einsidlen, more commonly styled Our Lady of the Hermits. I was astonished by the H 4 101 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IV. profuse ostentation of riches in the poorest corner of Europe ; amidst a savage scene of woods and mountains, a palace appears to liave been erected by magic ; and it was erected by the potent magic of rehgion. A crowd of pahners and votaries was prostrate before the altar. The title and w^orship of the Mother of God provoked my indignation ; and the lively naked image of superstition sug- gested to me, as in the same place it had done to Zuinglius, the most pressing argument for the re- formation of the church. About two years after this tour, I passed at Geneva a useful and agree- able month ; but this excursion and some short visits in the Pays de Vaud, did not materially in- terrupt my studious and sedentary life at Lau- sanne. My thirst of improvement, and the languid state of science at Lausanne, soon prompted me to solicit a literary correspondence with several men of learning, whom I had not an opportunity of per- sonally consulting. 1. In the perusal of Livy (xxx. 44^.), I had been stopped by a sentence in a speech of Hannibal, which cannot be reconciled by any torture with his character or argument. The commentators dissemble or confess their per- plexity. It occurred to me, that the change of a single letter, by substituting ofio instead of odio, might restore a clear and consistent sense ; but I wished to weigh my emendation in scales less partial thau my own. I addressed myself to M. Crevier\ the successor of Rollin, and a pro- fessor in the university of Paris, who had published • Sec Appendix, Letters, No. f. CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 105 a large and valuable edition of Livy. His answer was speedy and polite ; he praised my ingenuity, and adopted my conjecture. 2. I maintained a Latin correspondence, at first anonymous, and after- wards in my own name, with professor Breitinger'' of Zurich, the learned editor of a Septuagint Bible. In our frequent letters we discussed many questions of antiquity, many passages of the Latin classics. I proposed my interpretations and amendments. His censures, for he did not spare my boldness of conjecture, were sharp and strong ; and I was en- couraged by the consciousness of my strength, when I could stand in free debate against a critic of such eminence and erudition. 3. 1 corresponded on similar topics with the celebrated Professor Matthew Gesner,", of the university of Gottingen ; and he accepted as courteously as the two former, the invitation of an unknown youth. But liis abilities might possibly be decayed ; his elaborate letters were feeble and prolix ; and when I asked his proper direction, the vain old man covered half a sheet of paper with the foolish enumeration of his titles and offices. 4. These Professors of Paris, Zurich, and Gottingen were strangers, whom I pre- sumed to address on the credit of their name ; but Mr. Allamand % Minister at Bex, was my per- sonal friend, with whom I maintained a more free and interesting correspondence. He was a master of <) See Appendix, Letters, No. IV. and V. - Ditto, No. VI. VII. and VIIL s Ditto, No. IL and III.* * These references are to the this vokime letters of more general Miscellaneous works of Gibbon. I interest. — M. have thought it better to select for 10(3 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IV. language, of science, and, above all, of dispute ; and his acute and flexible logic could support, with equal address, and perhaps with equal indifference, the adverse sides of every possible question. His spirit was active, but his pen had been indolent. Mr. Allamand had exposed himself to much scandal and reproach, by an anonymous letter (174.5) to the Protestants of France ; in which he labours to per- suade them that puhlic worship is the exclusive right and duty of the state, and that their nume- rous assemblies of dissenters and rebels were not authorised by the law or the gospel. His style is animated, his arguments specious ; and if the papist may seem to lurk under the mask of a protestant, the philosopher is concealed under the disguise of a papist. After some trials in France and Holland, which were defeated by his fortune or his character, a genius that might have enlightened or deluded the world, was buried in a country living, unknown to fame, and discontented with mankind. Est sa- crijiculus in pogo, et rusticos decipit. As often as private or ecclesiasticalbusiness called him to Lau- sanne, I enjoyed the pleasure and benefit of his conversation, and we were mutually flattered by our attention to each other. Our correspondence, in his absence, chiefly turned on Locke's metaphysics*, *" One of these (M. Allamand), be still read with advantage by the friend and correspondent of many logicians of no small note in Gibbon, deserves particularly to the learned world. Had those be noticed bore, on account of two letters happened to have sooner letters, published in the posthu- attracted my attention, I should mous works of tliat historian, con- not have delayed so long to do taining a criticism on Locke's this tardy justice to their merits." arguments against innate ideas, so Dugald Stewart, I'rcface to En- very able and judicious, that it may cycloj)., vol. ii. p. 13. — M. CHAP. IV. MY LtFE AND WRITINGS. 107 which lie attacked, and I defended ; the origin of ideas, the principles of evidence, and the doctrine of liberty ; And found no end, in wandering mazes lost. By fencing with so skilftd a master, I acquired some dexterity in the use of my philosophic wea- pons ; but I was still the slave of education and prejudice. He had some measures to keep ; and I much suspect that he never showed me the true colours of his secret scepticism. Before I was recalled from Switzerland, I had the satisfaction of seeing the most extraordinary man of the age ; a poet, an historian, a philosopher, who has filled thirty quartos, of prose and verse, with his various productions, often excellent, and always entertaining. Need I add the name of Voltaire ? After forfeiting, by his own miscon- duct, the friendship of the first of kings, he retired, at the age of sixty, with a plentiful fortune, to a free and beautiful country, and resided two win- ters (1757 and 1758) in the town or neighbourhood of Lausanne. My desire of beholding Voltaire, whom I then rated above his real magnitude, was easily gratified. He received me with civility as an English youth ; but I cannot boast of any pecu- liar notice or distinction, J^irgilium vidi tantum* * " J'ai ete pendant quatorze depart, excepte un pretre E'cossais, ans I'aubergiste dc I'Europe, et je nomine Brown, ennenii de M. me suis lasse de cette profession ; Hume, qui a ecrit centre moi, et j'ai re9u chez moi trois ou quatre qui m'a reprochc d'aller a confessc, cents Anglais, qui sont si anioureux cc qui est assurement bien dur." de leur patrie, que prcsque pas un Voltaire a Madame du Delfand, nc s'est souvenu de moi apres son vol. i. p. 219, — M. 108 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IV. The ode which lie composed on liis first arrival on tlie banks of the Leman Lake, Maison (FAnsfippe ! Jardin (F Epicure, &c., had been imparted as a secret to the gentleman by whom I was introduced. He allowed me to read it twice ; I knew it by heart ; and as my discretion was not equal to my memory, the author was soon dis- pleased by the circulation of a copy. In writing this trivial anecdote, I wished to observe whether my memory was impaired, and I have the comfort of finding that every line of the poem is still en- graved in fresh and indelible characters. The highest gratification which I derived from Voltaire's residence at Lausanne, was the uncommon cir- cumstance of hearing a great poet declaim his own productions on the stage. He had formed a com- pany of gentlemen and ladies, some of whom were not destitute of talents. A decent theatre was framed at Monrepos, a country-house at the end of a suburb ; dresses and scenes were provided at the expense of the actors ; and the author directed the rehearsals with the zeal and attention of paternal love. In two successive winters his tra^'edies of Zayre, Alzire, Zulime, and his sentimental comedy of the Enfant Prodigue, were played at the theatre of Monrepos. Voltaire represented the characters best adapted to his years, Lusignan, Alvarez, Benassar, Euphcmon. His declamation was fashioned to the pomp and cadence of the old stage ; and he expressed the enthusiasm of poetry, rather than the feelings of nature. My ardour, which soon became conspicuous, seldom failed of procuring me a ticket. The habits of pleasure CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 109 fortified my taste for the French theatre, and that taste has pcrha})s abated my idolatry for the gigan- tic genius of Shakespeare, which is inculcated from our infancy as the first duty of an Englishman. The wit and pliilosophy of Voltaire, his table and theatre, refined, in a visible degree, the manners of Lausanne ; and, however addicted to study, I enjoyed my share of the amusements of society. After the representation of Monrepos I sometimes supped witli the actors. I was now familiar in some, and acquainted in many, houses; and my evenings were generally devoted to cards and con- versation either in private parties or numerous assemblies. I hesitate, from the apprehension of ridicule, Avhen I approach the delicate subject of my early love. By this word I do not mean the polite at- tention, the gallantry, without hope or design, which has originated in the spirit of chivalry, and is interwoven with the texture of French manners. I understand by this passion the union of desire, friendship, and tenderness, which is inflamed by a single female, w^hich prefers her to the rest of her sex, and which seeks her possession as the supreme or the sole happiness of our being. I need not blush at recollecting the object of my choice ; and though my love was disappointed of success, I am rather proud that I was once capable of feeling such a pure and exalted sentiment. The personal attractions of Mademoiselle Susan Curchod w^ere embellished by the virtues and talents of the mind. Her fortune was humble, but her family was re- spectable. Her motlier, a native of France, had 110 MEMOIRS OF CHAr. IV. preferred lier religion to her country. The pro- fession of her father did not extinguish the mode- ration and philosopliy of his temper, and he lived content witli a small salary and laborious duty in the obscure lot of minister of Crassy, in the mountains that separate the Pays de Vaud from the county of Burgundy. (7) In the solitude of a sequestered village he bestowed a liberal, and even learned, education on his only daughter. She surpassed his Iiopes by her proficiency in the sciences and languages ; and in her short visits to some relations at Lausanue, the wit, the beauty, and erudition of Mademoiselle Curchod were the theme of universal applause. The report of such a prodigy awakened my curiosity ; I saw and loved. I found her learned without pedantry, lively- in conversation, pure in sentiment, and elegant in manners; and the first sudden emotion was fortified by the habits and knowledge of a more familiar acquaintance. She permitted me to make her two or three visits at her father's house. I passed some happy days there, in the mountains of Burgundy, and her parents honourably encouraged the con- nection. In a calm retirement tlie gay vanity of youth no longer fluttered in her bosom ; she listened to the voice of trutli and passion, and I might presume to hope that I had made some impression on a virtuous heart. At Crassy and Lausanne I indulged my dream of felicity : but on my return to England, 1 soon discovered that my father would not hear of this strange alliance, and that without his consent I was myself destitute and helpless. After a painful struggle I yielded to my CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. Ill fate : I sighed as a lover, I obeyed as a son^ ; (8) my wound was insensibly healed by time, absence, and the habits of a new life. My cure was acce- lerated by a faithful report of the tranquillity and cheerfulness of the lady herself, and my love sub- sided in friendship and esteem. The minister of Grassy soon aftei'wards died ; his stipend died with him : his daughter retired to Geneva, where, by teaching young ladies, she earned a hard subsistence for herself and lier mother ; but in her lowest distress she maintained a spotless reputation, and a dignified behaviour. A rich banker of Paris, a citizen of Geneva, had the good fortune and good sense to discover and possess this inestimable treasure ; and in the capital of taste and luxury she resisted the temptations of wealth, as she had sus- tained the hardships of indigence. The genius of her husband has exalted him to the most con- spicuous station in Europe. In every change of prosperity and disgrace he has reclined on the bosom of a faithful friend ; and Mademoiselle Curchod is now the wife of M. Necker, the minister, and perhaps the legislator, of the French mo- narchy. (10) Whatsoever have been the fruits of my education, they must be ascribed to the fortunate banishment which placed me at Lausanne. I have sometimes applied to my own fate the verses of Pindar, which remind an Olympic champion that his victory was " Sec Oiuvrcs dc Rousseau, toin. xxxiii. p. 8ft, 80. octavo edition. As an author, 1 shall not appeal Ironi the judgment, or taste, or caprice oi Jean Jacques: but that extraordinary man, whom I admire and pity, should have been less precipitate in condemning the moral character and conduct of a stranger. (9) ] 12 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IV. tlie consequence of his exile ; and that at home, like a domestic fowl, his days might have rolled away inactive or inglorious. . yroi Kai rsd Ktv, ' EvSofiuxag ut dXtKrwp, 'Evyyovif} Trap' tariif 'AkXh'iq Tifiu Kari^v\\op6i](Tt ttoc'^oji'* El /<>} ardciQ dvnavtipa Kvioaiag ujupat -RUTpac. * Olyvip. xii. If my childish revolt against the religion of my country had not stripped me in time of my aca- demic gown, the five important years, so liberally improved in the studies and conversation of Lau- sanne, would have been steeped in port and pre- judice among the monks of Oxford. Had the fatigue of idleness compelled me to read, the path of learning would not have been enlightened by a ray of philosophic freedom. I should have grown to manhood ignorant of the life and language of Europe, and my knowledge of the world would have been confined to an English cloister. But my religious error fixed me at Lausanne, in a state of banishment and disgrace. The rigid course of discipline and abstinence, to which I was con- demned, invigorated the constitution of my mind and body ; poverty and pride estranged me from my countrymen. One mischief, however, and in * Thus, like tlie crested bird of Mars, at home Engag'd in foul domestic jars, And wasted with intestine wars, Inglorious hadst thou spent thy vig'rous bloom ; Had not sedition's civil broils ExpcU'd thee from thy native CrctCy And driv'n thcc with more glorious toils Th' Olympic crown in Pisd'ii plain to meet. West's Pind. CHAP. IV. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 113 their eyes a serious and irreparable miscliief, was derived from the success of my Swiss education : I liad ceased to be an Englishman. At the flexible period of youth, from the age of sixteen to twenty- one, my opinions, habits, and sentiments were cast in a foreign mould ; the faint and distant remem- brance of England was almost obliterated ; my native language was grown less flimiliar ; and I should have cheerfully accepted the offer of a mo- derate independence on the terms of perpetual exile. By the good sense and temper of Pavilliard my yoke was insensibly lightened : he left me master of my time and actions ; but he could neither change my situation, nor increase my allowance, and with the progress of my years and reason I impatiently sighed for the moment of my deliverance. At length, in the Spring of the year one thousand seven hundred and fifty-eight, my father signified his permission and his pleasure that I should immediately return home. We were then in the midst of a war : the resentment of the French at our taking their ships without a declaration, had rendered that polite nation somewhat peevish and difficult. They denied a passage to English tra- vellers, and the road through Germany was cir- cuitous, toilsome, and perhaps in the neighbour- hood of the armies exposed to some danger. In this perplexity, two Swiss officers of my acquaintance in the Dutch service, who were returning to their garrisons, offered to conduct me through France as one of their companions ; nor did we sufficiently reflect that my borrowed name and regimentals might have been considered, in case of a discovery, I 114> MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. in a very serious light. I took my leave of Lau- sanne on the 11th April 1758, with a mixture of joy and regret, in the firm resolution of revisiting, as a man, the persons and places which had been so dear to my youth. We travelled slowly, but pleasantly, in a hired coach, over the hills of Franchc-compte and the fertile province of Lor- raine, and passed, without accident or inquiry, through several fortified towns of the French frontier : from thence we entered the wild Ar- dennes of the Austrian duchy of Luxemburg ; and after crossing the Meuse at Liege, we tra- versed the heaths of Brabant, and reached, on the fifteenth day, our Dutch garrison of Bois le Due. In our passage through Nancy, my eye was grati- fied by the aspect of a regular and beautiful city, the work of Stanislaus, who, after tlie storms of Polish royalty, reposed in the love and gratitude of his new subjects of Lorraine. In our halt at Maes- tricht I visited Mr. De Beaufort, a learned critic, who was known to me by his specious arguments against the five first centuries of the Roman History.* After dropping my regimental com- panions, I stepped aside to visit Rotterdam and the Hague. I wished to have observed a country, the monument of freedom and industry ; but my days were numbered, and a longer delay would have been ungraceful. I hastened to embark at the * Gibbon expresses himself cau- scarcely inferior acuteness, for tiously upon this remarkable work tlic in(]uiries of Niebuhr ; the more of M. Beaufort, which in the dc- (liflicult and more (lucstionable task slrudive part of the discussion of reconstruction was left for the led the way, in some parts, with bold and inventive German. CHAP. IV. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 115 Brill, landed the next day at Harwich, and pro- ceeded to London, where my father awaited my arrival. The whole term of my first absence from England was four years, ten months, and fifteen days. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. No. 1. page 92. Extranet of a Letter from Mr.Pavilliard to Edivard Gibbon, Esq. A^ Lausanne, ce 25 Juillet 1753. Monsieur dc Gibbon se porte tres bien par la grace de Dieu, et il me paroit qu'il ne se trouve pas mal de notre Maison ; j'ai meme lieu de penser qu'il prcnd de I'attachement pour inoi, ce dont je suis charine, et que je travaillerai a augmenter, parcequ'il aura plus de confiance en moi, dans ce que je me propose de lui dire. Je n'ai point encore entrepris de lui parler sur les matieres de religion, parceque je n'entends pas assez la langue Angloise pour soutenir une longue conversation en cette langue, quoique je lise les auteurs Anglois avec assez de facilite ; et Monsieur de Gibbon n'entend pas assez de Fran9ois, mais il y fait beaucoup de progres. Je suis fort content de la politesse et de la douceur de caractere de Monsieur votre fils, et je me flatte que je pourrai toujours vous parler de lui avec eloge ; il s'applique beaucoup a la lecture. From Mr. Pavilliard to Edward Gibbon, Esq. A^ Lausanne, ce 13 Aout 1753. Monsieur de Gibbon se porte bien par la grace de Dieu ; je I'airae, et je me suis extremement attache a lui parcequ'il est doux et tranquille. Pour ce qui regarde ses sentimens, quoique je ne lui aye encore rien dit la-dessus, j'ai lieu d'cspercr qu'il ouvrira les yeux a la verite. Je le pense ainsi, parccqu'etant dans nion cabinet, il a choisi deux livres de controversie qu'il a pris dans sa chambre, et qu'il les lit. II ni'a charge I 2 116 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. de vous ofFrir ses tres humbles respects, et do vous dcmander la per- mission de Ic laisser montcr an manege : cet exercice poiirroit contri- buer c\ donner de la force a son corps, c'cst I'ldee qu'il en a. From Mr. Pavilliard to Edward Gihhon, Esq. Monsieur, A' Lausanne, ce 31 Octobre 1753. Depuis ma lettre du 15me Aout, je reyus le 18me du meme mois la lettre que vous m'avez fait I'honneur dem'ecrire en datte du 24e Juillet. Je I'ai luc avec attention : permcttez moi de vous marqiier les reflexions que j'y ai fait. Vous souhaitez que je tienne Monsieur votre fils a la maison attache a ses etudes, et qu'il sorte peu. Vous ctes pere, par la meme, Mon- sieur, vous avez droit de prescrire la maniere dont vous voulez qu'on Ic conduise. Sans doute vous ne prenez ce parti, que parceque vous croyez qu'on reussira mieux par cettc voie, a le ramencr des prejuges auxqnels il s'est livre. Mais je vous prie de considercr que Monsieur votre fils est d'un caracterc serieux, qu'il se plait a reflechir, qu'etant dans sa chambre occupe a lire, il suivra ses idees, et il s'y attachera toujours plus, parceque personne ne le contredira : d'ailleurs regardant comme une peine I'obligation qu'on lui impose, il sera toujours moins porte a ecouter favorablement ce que je lui dirai : il envisagera tons mes discours, comme vcnant d'un homme qui est dans des idees qu'il desap- prouve, et qui veut, cependant, les lui faire reccvoir, parcequ'il est paie pour cela. Je crois. Monsieur, qu'il seroit plus a propos de le distrairc un peu, de I'egaier un peu, pour lui faire passer ce qu'il a de trop sombre dans le caractcre : en voyant bonne compagnic, il appercevroit qu'on pensc juste sur bien de sujets : il s'accoutumeroit a etre contredit quelquefois, et a ceder aussi dans I'occasion, il examineroit avec plus de soin et avec moins de preoccupation les principes qu'il atlopte, et les voyant souvcnt condamnes par des personnes (|u"il voit (|ui out du gout pour la veritc, il ne les regarderoit pas comme infailliblcs, et convaincu qu'on ne le hait pas a cause de ses sentiments, il ecouteroit ce qu'on lui diroit avec plus de confiance. Tout ce que je viens de dire est une suite des remarqucs que j'ai fait sur son caractere, et sur ce que vous m'avez fait I'honneur de m'en dire dans votre lettre. Je me suis appergu qu'il etoit attache an parti du Prctendant : il s'en est declare asscz ouverte- ment dans la suite. J'ai combattu ses idees sans faire semblant que c'etoit les siennes, et sans marquer aucnne intention de lui faire de la peine : il a re()lique plusieurs fois, mais a la fin j'ai tcUement renverse tons ses raisonnemens qu'il n'en parle plus, et qu'il s'exprimc sur le sujet du roi d'une maniere bien diflercnte de ce qu'il faisoit aritrefois. CHAP. IV. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 117 Je n'assiirerai pas cependant qu'il ait ciitiercmcnt change d'iilt'cs, parce- qii'il parle pen, et que je n'ai pas voulu fairc connoitre que j'avois dessein de I'emporter sur lui. Monsieur, Votre tres humble et obeissant Serviteur, PAVILLIARD, Pasteur. No. 2. page 94. M. Pavilliard has described to me the astonishment with which he gazed on Mr. Gibbon standing before him : a thin little figure, with a large head, disputing and urging, with the greatest ability, all the best arguments that had ever been used in flivour of popery. Mr. Gibbon many years ago became very fat and corpulent, but he had uncommonly small bones, and was very slightly made. — 8. Letter from Mr. Pavilliard to Edward Gibbon, Esq. Monsieur, Juin26. 1754. J'espere que vous pardonnerez mon long silence en faveur des nouvelles que j'ai a vous apprendre. Si j'ai tant tarde, ce n'a ete ni par oubli, ni par negligence, mais je croyois de semaine en semaine pouvoir vous annoncer que Monsieur votre fils avoit entierement renonce aux fausses idees qu'il avoit embrassees ; mais il a fallu disputer le terrein pied a pied, et je n'ai pas trouve en lui un homme leger, et qui passe rapidement d'un sentiment a un autre. Souvent apres avoir tletruit toutes ses idees sur un article, de maniere qu'il n'avoit rien a repliquer, ce qu'il avouoit sans detour, il me disoit qu'il ne croioit pas qu'il n'y eiit rien a me repondre. Lii-dessusje n'ai pas jug^ qu'il fallut le pousser a bout, et extorquer de lui un aveu que son cceur desa- voueroit ; je lui donnois alors du terns pour reflechir ; tous mes livres etoient a sa disposition ; je revenois a la charge quand il m'avouoit qu'il avoit etudie la matiere aussi bien qu'il I'avoit pu, et enfin j'etabHssois une verite. Je me persuadois que quand j'aurois detruit les principales erreurs de I'eglise Romaine, je n'aurois qu'a faire voir que les autres sont des consequences des premieres, et qu'elles ne peuvent subsister quand les fondamentales sont renversees ; mais, comme je I'ai dit, je me suis trompe, il a fallu traiter chaque article dans son entier. Par la grace de Dieu, je n'ai pas perdu mon tems, et aujourdhui, si meme il conserve quelques rcstes de ses pernicieuses erreurs, j'ose dire qu'il n'cst plus membre de I'eglise Romaine ; voici done ou nous en sommes. J'ai renverse I'infaillibilite de I'eglise ; j'ai prouve que jamais St. Pierre n'a ete chef des apotres ; que quand il I'auroit ete, le pape n'cst I 3 118 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. point son succcsseur ; qu'il est douteux que St, Pierre ait jamais ete a Rome, mais suppose qu'il y ait ete, il n'apas ete eveque de cette ville: que la transubstantiation est une invention huniaine, et peu ancienne dans I'eglise ; que I'adoration de I'Euchariste et le retranchement de la coupe sont contraires a la parole de Dieu : qu'il y a des saints, mais que nous ne savons pas qui ils sont, et par consequent qu'on nc pent pas les pricr ; que le respect et le culte qu'on rend aux reli^iues est condamnable ; qu'il n'y a point de purgatoire, et que la doctrine des indulgences est fausse ; que le Carcme et les jeunes du Vendredi et du Samedi sont ridicules aujourdhui, et de lanianiere que I'eglise lloniaine les prescrit : que les imputations que I'eglise de Rome nous fait de varier dans notre doctrine, et d'avoir pour reformateurs des personnes dont la conduite et les nioeurs ont ete un scandale, sont entierement fausses. Vous comprenez bien. Monsieur, que ces articles sont d'une longue discussion, qu'il a fallu du temg ii Monsieur votre fils pour mediter mes raisons, et pour y chercher des reponses. Je lui ai demande plusieurs fois si mes preuves et mes raisons lui paroissoicnt convainquantes ; il m'a toujours assure qu'oui, de f'acon que j'ose assurer aussi, comme je le lui ai dit li lui-menie il y a peu de terns, qu'il n'etoit plus catholique Romain. Je me fiatte qu'apres avoir obtenu la victoire sur ces articles, je I'aurai sur le reste avec le secours de Dieu. Tellement que je compte vous marquer dans peu que cette ouvrage est fini ; je dois vous dire encore que, quoique j'ai trouve Monsieur votre fils tres fcrme dans ses idees, je I'ai trouve raisonnable, qu'il s'est rendu a la lumiere, et qu'il n'est pas ce qu'on appelle chicaneur. Par rapport a I'article du jeune le Vendredi et Samedi, long terns apres queje vous eus ecrit qu'il n'avoit jamais marcjue qu'il voulut I'observer, environs le commencement du mois de Mars je m'apper^us un Vendredi qu'il ne mangeoit point de viande; je lui parlai en particulier pour en savoir la raison, craignant que ce ne fut par indisposition. II me repondit qu'il I'avoit fait <\ dessein, et qu'il avoit cru etre oblige de sc conformcr a la pratique d'une eglise dont il etoit membre : nous parlames quelque tcms sur ce sujet ; il m'assura qu'il n'cnvisageoit cela que comme une pratique bonne a la verit^,et qu'il devoit suivre, quoiqu'il ne la criit pas sainte en elle meme, ni d'institution divine. Je ne crus pas devoir in sister pour lors, ni le forcer a agir centre ses lumieres : j'ai traite cet article qui est cer- tainemcnt un des moins importans, des moins fondes; et cependant il m'a fallu un tems considerable pour le d^troinper, et pour lui faire comprendre qu'il avoit tort de s'assujettir a la prati(iue d'une eglise qu'il ne rcconnoissoit plus pour infailliblc; que si meme cette pratique avoit cu quelque utilite dans son institution, cependant elle n'en avoit aucune en elle meme, puisqu'elle ne contribuoit en rien a la purete des moeurs, qu'ainsi il n'y avoit aucune raison, ni dans I'institution de cette prati(jue, ni dans la pi'atique elle meme, qui I'autorisat a s'y soumcttre : qu'aujourdliui ce n'etoit qu'unc affaire d'interet, puisqu'avcc de I'argcnt CHAP. IV. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 119 on obtcnoit dcs dispenses pour manger gras, &c. do maniere que jc I'ai ramene a la liberie Chretienne avec beaucoup dc peine et sculement depuis quelqucs seniaines. Je I'ai engage a vous ecrire, pour vous nianifester les sentimens ou il est, et I'etat de sa sante ; et je crois qu'il I'a fait. From Mr, Gibbon to Mrs. Porter. Dear Madam, I have at length good news to tell you. I am now good Protestant, and am extremely glad of it. I have in all my letters taken notice of the different movements of my mind, entirely Catholic when I came to Lausanne, wavering long time between the two systems, and at last fixed for the Protestant : — when that conflict was over, I had still another difficulty — brought up with all the ideas of the Church of England, I could scarce resolve to communion with Presbyterians, as all the people of this country are. I at last got over it, for considering that whatever difference there may be between their churches and ours, in the government and discipline, they still regard us as brethren and profess the same faith as us. Determined then in this design, I declared it to the ministers of the town, assembled at Mr, Pavilliard's, who, having examined me, approved of it, and permitted me to receive the communion with them, which I did Christmas day from the hands of Mr. Pavilliard, who appeared extremely glad of it. I am so extremely', myself — and do assure you feel a joy extremely pure, and the more so, as I know it to be not only innocent but laudable. From Mr. Pavilliard to Mrs. Porten. Madam, Lausanne, January 28, 1755. As I have a piece of news extremely interesting to acquaint you with, I cannot any longer defer answering to the letter you honoured me with. God has at length blessed my cares, and heard your prayers ; I have had the satisfaction of bringing back Mr. Gibbon to the bosom of our reformed Church ; he has communicated with us Christmas day last, with devotion : he appears satisfied with what he has done, and I am persuaded is at present as little inclined to the sentiments of the Church of Rome, as I am myself. I have made use with him, neither of rigour nor artifice, I have never hurried him in his de- cisions, but have always left him the time to reflect on every article ; 1 This letter is curious : as it shows in how short a time (not more than a year and a half) he had adopted the idiom of the French lan- guage and lost that of his own. — M. 1 1^ 120 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. lie has been persuaded of the integrity of my intentions, he has heard me as a frientl, and I have served him as guide to enter into the road of the truth. God Ahnighty be blessed for it ; 1 pray that God to strengthen him more and more in the right way, and to make him a faithful member of his Church. I ought to render him the justice to say, I never found him obstinate ; he has been fixed in his ideas, but when he has seen the light, he has rendered himself. His behaviour has been very regular and has made no slips, except that of gaining twice and losing much more than I desired. I hope, Madam, you will acquaint Mr. Gibbon with your satisfaction and restore him your affection, which, though his errors may have shaken, they have not, lam sure, destroyed. As his father has allowed him but the bare necessaries, but nothing more, I dare beg you to grant him some tokens of your satis- faction. I am convinced he will employ them well, and I ever flatter myself he will give me the direction of them, for he has promised me never to play any more game^ of chance. I wish you, Madam, all kinds of prosperity. No. 3. page 100. Extract of a Letter from Mr.Pavilliard to Edioard Gibbon, Esq. Je n'ai point change de sentimens pour Monsieur votre fils. II vous rend compte de ses etudes, et je puis vous assurer qu'il ne vous dit rien qui ne soit tres vrai. II emploie trcs bien son temps, et il s'appliquc extremement, aussi a-t-il fait beaucoup deprogrcs. II entend tres bien le Latin, et il a lu les meilleurs auteurs que nous ayons, et cela plus d'une fois : il alu la Logic[ue de Mr. de Crousaz et I'Essai sur I'Entendement humain de Mr. Locke, dont il a fait des extraits : il a commence le Grec, et il s'y attache : il va commencer I'algebre, comma vous le lui ordonnez. Vous jugerez par ses lettres s'il entend le Francois, car je vous assure que je n'y ai fait aucune correction. Par ra[)port a la religion, il n'a jias laisse echa[)per un seul mot, (|ui ait pu me faire soupconner cju'il eut encore quelque attachement pour la religion Romaine, et cpioicjue nous parlions souvent sur ces matieres, je le tronve toujours penser tres juste sur toutes les questions qu'on traite. Le petit voyage (jue nous avons fait lui a beaucoup valu a cet egard : il a ete temoin des superstitions epouvantables, qui y regnent : il en a 6t6 d'autant plus frajjpe qu'il ne le connoissoit pas, et qu'il ne pouvoit s'imaginer qu'ellcs fussent aussi grandes. Quand il n'auroit pas dejii renonce a cette communion, il I'auroit fait indubitablement, tant elles lui ont paru excessives et deraisonnables. Je suis persuade qu'il a embrasse le parti Protestant par raisoii, et cpi'il y a pen de per- sonnes qui aient plus examin(:> et niieux senti la force de nos preuves que lui. Je lui dois ce temoignage, et je le lui rends avec plaisir, de mcme que sur sa bonne conduite. CHAP. IV. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 121 P. S. La lettre que vous avez ccrite ;\ Monsieur votre fils I'a ex- tremement touclit', puree qu'elle liii a fait voir (juc vous ctiez mecontent de lui. Rien ne pent le mortificr davantaije que cette idee. Rendez lui, je vous siipplie, votre affection, il la nierite, par rattachenicnt qu'il a pour vous. From Mr. Pavilliard to Edivard Gibbon, Esq. MonsieiH', Janvier 12, 1757. Vous avez souhaite que Monsieur votre fils s'a[)pliqu;it a I'algebre ; le goiit qu'il a pour les belles lettres luifaisoit appreliender que I'algebre ne nuisat a ses etudes favorites; je lui ai persuade qu'il ne se faisoit pas una juste idee de cette partie des matbeniatiques ; I'obeissance qu'il vous doit, jointe a mes raisons, I'ont determine a en faire un cours. Je ne croyois pas qu'avec cette repugnance il y fit de grands progres ; je me suis trompe : il fait bien tout ce qu'il fait ; il est exact a ses Ie9ons ; il s'applique a lire avant sa le9on, et il repasse avec soin, de maniere qu'il avance beaucoup, et plus que je ne serois attendu : il est charme d'avoir commence, et je pense qu'il fera un petit cours de geometric, ce qui en tout ne lui prcndra que sept a huit mois. Pendant qu'il fait ses lecons, il ne s'est point relache sur ses autres etudes; il avance beaucoup dans le Grec, et il a presque lu la moitie de I'lliade d'Homere; je lui fais regulierement des lemons sur cet auteur : il a aussi fini les historiens Latins ; il en est a present aux poiites ; et il a lu entierement Plaute et Terence, et bientot il aura fini Lucrece. Au reste, il ne lit pas ces auteurs a la legere, il veut s'eclaircir sur tout ; de fagon qu'avec le genie qu'il a, I'excellente memoire et I'application, il ira loin dans les sciences. J'ai eu I'honneur de vous dire ci-devant, que malgre ses etudes il voyoit compagnie ; je puis vous le dire encore aujourdliui. From Mr. Pavilliard to Edward Gibbon, Esq. Monsieur, Jan. 14, 1758. J'ai eu I'honneur de vous ecrire le 27 Juillet et le 26 8|,rc passes, et je vous ai rendu compte de la sante, des etudes, et de la conduite de Monsieur votre fils. Je n'ai rien a ajoutcr a tout ce que je vous en ai dit : il se porte parfaitement bien par la grace de Dieu ; il continue li etudier avec application, et je puis vous assurer qu'il fait des progres considerables dans les etudes, et il se fait extreniement estimer par tons ceux qui le connoissent, et j'espere que quand il vous montrera en detail ce qu'il salt, vous en serez tres content. Les Belles Lettres, qui sont son etude favorite, ne I'occupcnt pas entierement; il continue les mathcmatiques, et son professeur m'assure (ju'il n'a jamais vu personne 12^2 3IExM01RS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. avancer autant que lui, ui avoir plus d'ardcur ct d'application qu'il n'cn a. Son genie hcurcux ct penetrant est scconde i)ar uuc uienioirc dcs plus hcureuses, tellcment qu'il n'oublie presque ricn de ee qu'il apprcnd. Je n'ai pas moins lieu d'etre content de sa conduite ; quoiqu'il etudic beaucoup, il voit cependant compagnie, niais il nc voit que des pcrsonnes dont le commerce peut lui etre utile. No. 4. page 101. On this passage Dr. Whitaker observes that the reason for Gibbon's discontinuance of his mathematical studies was, perhaps without his knowledge, common to Warburton and himself, " That rigid demon- stration of which the object is mathematical certaint}^ inca[)acitates the mind from estimating the innumerable shades of probability, iiom moral certainty to the lowest conceivable possibility, is an opinion more specious than solid. The practice of mathematical investigation tends to strengthen the reasoning faculties in general ; and though the habit of requiring certainty may lead the reasoner to undervalue moral evidence, it can by no conceivable process incapacitate him from comprehending it. Almost all the best judges of moral evidence, and particularly the great modern advocates for the evidences of Christianity, have been mathe- maticians ; and happy would it have been for Mr. Gibbon and his ad- mirers, had his 'finer feeling,' of this species of induction led hini to form an acquaintance witli their writings." — Quarterly Review, xii. p. 380. This ancient question has recently been revived in the dispute between two of our most eminent men of science, Mr. Babbage and Mr. Whewell. If Mr. Whewell intended to disparage mathematical studies, as disqualifying the mind for the perception of moral evidence, (which maybe questioned,) he is himself, perhaps, one of the best confutations of his own theory. Is not, however, the truth with either or with both of these accomplished disputants ? The ordinary mind, to which the study of mathematics is an end, not a means, which aspires only to skill and dexterity in managing the instrument, without applying it to any of its nobler purposes, astronomy or the higher branches of science, betrays and increases its incapacity for moral or historical reasoning. The mere mathematician is to the real philosopher, what the mere grammarian is to the real philologist ; the one dwells only with signs and numbers, the other with words and grammatical inflexions; proving, not the in- evitable tendency of the study to disqualify for higher inquiries, but tlie narrowness and barrenness of the individual intellect. — M. Nc. 5. page 101. If Pope had ever looked into this treatise (Crousaz on Logic) he could not have committed so gross a mistake as to introduce the author into the Dunciad among Locke's Aristotelian opponents, a distinction for which Crousaz was probably indebted to his acute CHAIMV. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 123 strictures on those passages in the Essay on Man, which seem fa- vourable to fatalism. Prompt at the call, around the goddess roll Broad hats, and hoods, and caps, a sable shoal ; # * * * Each staunch Polemic, stubborn as a rock, Each fierce logician, still expelling Locke, Came whip and spur, and dash'd through thin and thick. On German Crousaz and Dutch Burgursdyk. Warburton, with his usual scurrility towards all Pope's adversaries, as w ell as his own, has called Crousaz a blundering Swiss ; but a very different estimate of his works has been formed by Gibbon, who seems to have studied his works much more carefully than the Right Reverend Commentator on the Dunciad. — Dugald Stewart, Preface to Encyclop., partii. p. 12. — M. No. 6. page 103. From Edicard Gibbon to Mrs. Porten. Now for myself. As my father has given me leave to make a journey rouiiil Switzerland, we set out to-morrow. Buy a map of Switzerland, it will cost you but a shilling, and follow me. I go by Iverdun, Neufchatel, Bienne or Biel, Soleurre or Solothurn, Bale or Basil, Bade, Zurich, Lucerne, and Bern. The voyage will be of about four weeks; so that / hojje to find a letter from you waiting for me. As my father had given me leave to learn what I had a mind, I have learned to ride, and learn actually to dance and draw. Besides that, I often give ten or twelve hours a da}' to my studies. I find a great many agreeable peo- ple here ; see them sometimes, and can say upon the whole, without vanity, that though I am the Englishman here who spends the least money, I am he who is the most generally liked. I told you that my father had promised to send me into France and Italy. I have thanked him for it ; but if he would follow my plan, he won't do it yet a while. I never liked young travellers ; they go too raw to make any great remarks, and they lose a time which is (in my opinion) the most precious part of a man's life. My scheme would be, to spend this winter at Lausanne : for though it is a very good place to acquire the air of good company and the French tongue, we have no good pro- fessors. To spend (I say) the winter at Lausanne ; go into England to see my friends for a couple of months, and after that, finish my studies, either at Cambridge (for after what has passed one cannot think of Oxford), or at an university in Holland. If you liked the scheme, could you not j)roposc it to my father by Mclcalf, or somebody who has a certain credit over him ? I forgot to ask you whether, in case my father writes to tell me of his marriage, would you advise me to compliment my mother-in-law ? I think so. My health is so very regular, that I have nothing to say about it. 1'24 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. I have been the whole day writing you this letter; the preparations for our voyage gave me a thousand interruptions. Besides that, I was obliged to write in English. This last reason will seem a paradox, but I assure you the French is much more famiUar to me. I am,&c. Lausanne, Sept. 20, 1755. E. GIBBON. No. 7. page 110. Extracts from the Journal. March 1757. I wrote some critical observations upon Plautus. March 8th. I wrote a long dissertation on some lines of Virgil. June. I saw Mademoiselle Curchod — Omnia vinrit anior, ct nos ccdaimis amori. August. I went to Grassy, and staid two days. Sept. 15th. I went to Geneva. Oct. 15th. I came back to Lausanne, having passed through Grassy. Nov. 1st. I went to visit M. de Watteville at Loin, and saw Mademoiselle Gurchod in my way through Rolle. Nov. 17th. I went to Grassy, and staid there six days. Jan. 1758. Li the three first months of this year I read Ovid's Metamorphoses, finished the conic sections with M. de Traytorrens, and went as far as the infinite series ; I likewise read Sir Isaac Newton's Gliro- nology, and wrote my critical observations upon it. Jan 23il. I saw Alzire acted by the society at Monrepos. Vol- taire acted Alvarez ; D'Hermanches, Zamore ; de St. Cierge, Gusman ; M. de Gcntil, Monteze ; and Madame Denys, Alzire. No. 8. page 111. The letter in which Gibbon communicated to Mademoiselle Gurchod the opposition of his father to their marriage, still exists in manuscript. The first pages are tender and melancholy, as might be expected from an unhappy lover ; the latter became by degrees calm and reasonable, and the letter concludes with these words, " Ccst poitrqiioi, Madcmoi- sfllc, fai riionncur cVctrc voire trcs humble el Ires obeissant servileur, Edouard Gibbon.^'' He truly loved Mademoiselle Curchod ; but every one loves according to his character, and tliat of Gibbon was incapable of a despairing passion. — M. Suard's Memoir. No. 9. page 111. From a letter dated at Motiers, the 4th of June 17G.3, and addressed to M. M ca. — You have given me a commission for Mademoi- CHAP. IV. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 125 selle Curcliod, of which I shall acquit myself ill, precisely on account of my esteem for her. The coldness of Mr. (iibbon makes me think ill of him. I have again read his book. It is deformed by the per- petual affectation and pursuit of brilliancy. Mr. Gibbon is no man for me. I cannot think him well adapted to Mademoiselle Curchod. He that does not know her value is unworthy of her; he that knows it, and can desert her, is a man to be despised. She does not know what she is about ; this man serves her more effectually than her own heart. I should a thousand times rather see him leave her free and poor among us, than bring her to be rich and miserable in England. In truth, I hope Mr. Gibbon may not come here. I should wish to dis- semble, but I could not ; I should wish to do well, and I feel that I should spoil all. No. 10. page 111. " The Curchod (Madame Necker) I saw at Paris. She was very fond of me, and the husband particularly civil. Could they insult me more cruelly ? Ask me every evening to supper ; go to bed, and leave me alone with his wife — what an impertinent security ! it is making an old lover of mighty little consequence. She is as handsome as ever, and much genteeler ; seems pleased with her fortune rather than proud of it. I was (perhaps indiscreetly enough) exalting Nanette d'lllens's good luck and the fortune. What fortune ? (said she, with an air of contempt) — not above twenty thousand livres a-3ear. I smiled, and she caught herself immediately. — ' What airs I give my- self in despising twenty thousand livres a-year, who a year ago looked upon eight hundred as the summit of my wishes.'" There is a very pleasing and friendly letter from Madame Necker to Gibbon, Misc. Works, vol. ii. p. IG9. A second, chiefly on the first volume of his History, page 176. In a third, p. 193., occurs the follow- ing flattering description of Gibbon's powers of conversation : — " Votre entretien. Monsieur, a toujours ete un grand plaisir de ma vie, car vous reunissez I'interet pour les petites choses, I'enthousiasme pour les grandes, I'abondance des idees, a I'attention pour cellcs des autres, et une legere causticite, ame de la conversation, a I'indulgence du moment, la surete du caractere, et le courage de I'amitie." See likewise, p. 245, and 440 to 4G9. Mme. Necker concludes one of her letters with the following significant quotation from Zai're : — " Genereux, bienfaisant, juste, plein de vertus, S'il etoit ne Chretien, que seroit il de plus." Page 454. It is curious to speculate on the effect which an union with a female of such pure dignity of character and calm religious principle, might have had on the character and opinions of Gibbon. 126 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. CHAP. V. Mr. Gibbon's manner of spending his Time. — He publishes his first Work, Essai sur I'E'tude de la Litterature. — Some Observations on the Flan, and the Character of the Performance. — Character of Dr. Maty. — The Author's manner of passing his Time in the Hampshire Militia, and llefiections upon it. — He resumes his Studies ; determines to xorite upon some Historibal Subject; considers various Subjects, and makes Remarks upon them for that purpose. In the prayers of the church our personal con- cerns are judiciously reduced to the threefold dis- tinction ol mind, hodi), and edate. The sentiments of the mind excite and exercise our social sympathy. The review of my moral and literary character is tlie most interesting to myself and to the public ; and I may expatiate, without reproach, on my pri- vate studies ; since they have produced the public writings, which can alone entitle me to the esteem and friendship of my readers. The experience of the world inculcates a discreet reserve on the sub- ject of our person and estate, and we soon learn that a free disclosure of our riches or poverty would provoke the malice of envy, or encourage the in- solence of contempt. The only person in England whom I was impa- tient to see was my aunt Porten, the affectionate guardian of my tender years. I hastened to her house in College-street, Westminster; and the CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 127 evening was spent in the effusions of joy and con- fidence. It was not without some awe and appre- hension tliat I approached the presence of my father. My infancy, to speak the truth, had been neglected at home ; the severity of his look and language at our last parting still dwelt on my me- mory ; nor could I form any notion of his cha- racter, or my probable reception. They were both more agreeable than I could expect. The domestic discipline of our ancestors has been re- laxed by the philosophy and softness of the age ; and if my father remembered that he had trembled before a stern parent, it was only to adopt with his own son an opposite mode of behaviour. He re- ceived me as a man and a friend ; all constraint was banished at our first interview, and we ever afterwards continued on the same terms of easy and equal politeness. He applauded the success of my education ; every word and action was ex- pressive of the most cordial affection ; and our lives would have passed without a cloud, if his economy had been equal to his fortune, or if his fortune had been equal to his desires. During my absence he had married his second wife, Miss Dorothea Patton, who was introduced to me with the most unfavourable prejudice. I considered his second marriage as an act of displeasure, and I was disposed to hate the rival of my mother. But the injustice was in my own fancy, and the imaginary monster was an amiable and deserving woman. I could not be mistaken in the first view of her understanding, her knowledge, and the elegant spirit of her conversation : her polite wel- 128 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. come, and licr assiduous care to study and gratify my wishes, announced at least tliat the surface would be smootli ; and my suspicions of art and falsehood were gradually dispelled by the full dis- covery of her warm and exquisite sensibility. After some reserve on my side, our minds associated in confidence and friendship ; and as Mrs. Gibbon had neither children nor the hopes of children, we more easily adopted the tender names and genuine characters of mother and of son. By the indulgence of these parents, I was left at liberty to consult my taste or reason in the choice of place, of company, and of amusements ; and my excursions were bounded only by the limits of the island, and the measure of my income. Some faint efforts were made to procure me the employment of secretary to a foreign embassy ; and I listened to a scheme which would again have transported me to the continent. Mrs. Gibbon, with seeming wisdom, exhorted me to take chambers in the Temple, and devote my leisure to the study of the law. I cannot repent of having neglected her advice. Few men, without the spur of necessity, have resolution to force their way through the thorns and thickets of that gloomy labyrinth. Nature had not endowed me with the bold and ready eloquence which makes itself heard amidst the tumult of the bar ; and I should probably have been diverted from the labours of literature, without acquiring the fame or fortune of a successful pleader. I had no need to call to my aid the regular duties of a profession ; every day, every hour, was agreeably filled ; nor CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 129 have I known, like so many of my countrymen, the tediousness of an idle life. Of the two years (May, 1758 — May, I76O) be- tween my return to England and the embodying of the Hampshire militia, I passed about nine months in London, and the remainder in the country. The metropolis affords many amusements, which are open to all. It is itself an astonishing and perpe- tual spectacle to the curious eye ; and each taste, each sense may be gratified by the variety of objects which will occur in the long circuit of a morning walk. I assiduously frequented the theatres, at a very propitious sera of the stage, when a constella- tion of excellent actors, both in tragedy and comedy, was eclipsed by the meridian brightness of Garrick in the maturity of his judgment, and vigour of his performance. The pleasures of a town-life are within the reach of every man who is regardless of his health, his money, and his company. By the contagion of example I was sometimes seduced ; but the better habits, which I had formed at Lau- sanne, induced me to seek a more elegant and ra- tional society ; and if my search was less easy and successful than I might have hoped, I shall at pre- sent impute the failure to the disadvantages of my situation and character. Had the rank and fortune of my parents given them an annual establishment in London, their own house would have introduced me to a numerous and polite circle of acquaintance. But my father's taste had always preferred the highest and the lowest company, for which he was equally qualified ; and after a twelve years' retire- ment, he was no longer in the memory of the great K 130 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. with whom he had associated. I found myself a stranger in the midst of a vast and unknown city ; and at my entrance into hfe I was reduced to some dull family parties, and some scattered connections, which were not such as I should have chosen for myself. The most useful friends of my father were the Mallets : they received me with civility and kindness at first on his account, and afterwards on my own j and (if I may use Lord Chesterfield's words) I was soon domesticated in their house. Mr. Mallet, a name among the English poets, is praised by an unforgiving enemy, for tlie ease and elegance of his conversation, and his wife was not destitute of wit or learning. By his assistance I was intro- duced to lady Hervey, the mother of the present earl of Bristol. Her age and infirmities confined her at home; her dinners were select; in the evening her house was open to the best company of both sexes and all nations ; nor was I displeased at her preference and affectation of the manners, the language, and the literature of France. But my progress in the English world was in general left to my own efforts, and those efforts were languid and slo\v. I had not been endowed by art or nature with those happy gifts of confidence and address, which unlock every door and every bosom ; nor would it be reasonable to complain of the just con- sequences of my sickly childhood, foreign education, and reserved temper. Wliile coaches were rattling through Bond-street, I have passed many a solitary evening in my lodging with my books. My studies were sometimes interrupted by a sigh, which I breatlied towards Lausanne ; and on the approach CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 131 of Spring, I withdrew without reluctance from the noisy and extensive scene of crowds without com- pany, and dissipation without pleasure. In each of the twenty-five years of my acquaintance witli London (I758 — 1783) the prospect gradually brightened ; and this unfavourable picture most properly belongs to the first period after my return from Switzerland. My father's residence in Hampshire, where I have passed many light, and some heavy hours, was at Buriton, near Petersfield, one mile from the Ports- mouth road, and at the easy distance of fifty- eight miles from London.^ An old mansion, in a state of decay, had been converted into the fashion and convenience of a modern house ; and if strangers had nothing to see, the inhabitants had little to desire. The spot was not happily chosen, at the end of the village and the bottom of the hill : but the aspect of the adjacent grounds was various and cheerful ; the downs commanded a noble prospect, and the long hanging woods in sight of the house could not perhaps have been improved by art or expense. My flither kept in his own hands the whole of the estate, and even rented some addi- tional land ; and whatsoever might be the balance of profit and loss, the farm supplied him with amusement and plenty. The produce maintained a number of men and horses, which were multi- plied by the intermixture of domestic and rural ser- vants ; and in the intervals of labour the favourite team, a handsome set of bays or greys, was har- • The estate and manor of Bcriton, otherwise Buriton, were con- siderable, and were sold a few 3'ears ago to Lord Stawell. — S, K 2 132 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. nessed to the coach. The economy of the house was regulated by the taste and prudence of Mrs. Gibbon. She prided licrsclf in the elegance of her occasional dinners; and from the uncleanly avarice of Madame Pavilliard, I was suddenly transported to the daily neatness and luxury of an English table. Our immediate neighbourhood was rare and rustic ; but from the verge of our hills, as far as Chichester and Goodwood, the western district of Sussex was interspersed with noble seats and hos- pitable families, with whom we cultivated a friendly, and might have enjoyed a very frequent, inter- course. As my stay at Buriton was always volun- tary, I was received and dismissed with smiles; but tlie comforts of my retirement did not depend on the ordinary pleasures of the country. My father could never inspire me with his love and knowledge of farming. I never handled a gun, I seldom mounted a horse; and my philosophic walks were soon terminated by a shady bench, where I was long detained by the sedentary amusement of read- ing or meditation. At home I occupied a pleasant and spacious apartment ; the library on the same floor was soon considered as my peculiar domain ; and I might say with truth, that I was never less alone than when by myself. My sole comphunt, which I ])iously suppressed, arose from the kind restraint imposed on tlie freedom of my time. By the liabit of early rising I always secured a sacred portion of the day, and many scattered moments were stolen and employed by my studious industry. But the family hours of breakfast, of dinner, of tea, and of supper, were regular and long : after break- CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 133 fast Mrs. Gibbon expected my company in her dressing-room ; after tea my father claimed my con- versation and the perusal of the newspapers ; and in the midst of an interesting work I was often called down to receive tlie visit of some idle neigh- bours. Their dinners and visits required, in due season, a similar return ; and I dreaded the period of the full moon, which was usually reserved tor our more distant excnrsions. I could not refuse attending my father, in the summer of 1759, to the races at Stockbridgc, Reading, and Odiham, where he had entered a horse for the hunters' plate ; and I was not displeased with the sight of our Olympic games, the beauty of the spot, the fleetness of the ' horses, and the gay tumult of the numerous spec- tators. As soon as the militia business was agita- ted, many days were tediously consumed in meet- ings of deputy-lieutenants at Petersfield, Alton, and Winchester. In the close of the same year, 1759, Sir Simeon (then Mr.) Stewart attempted an unsuc- cessful contest for the county of Southampton, against Mr. Legge, Chancellor of the Exchequer : a well-known contest, in which Lord Bute's influ- ence was first exerted and censured. Our canvass at Portsmouth and Gosport lasted several days ; but the interruption of my studies was compen- sated in some degree by the spectacle of English manners, and the acquisition of some practical knowledge. If in a more domestic or more dissipated scene my application was somewhat relaxed, the love of knowledge was inflamed and gratified by the com- mand of books J and I compared the poverty of K 3 i3h MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. Lausanne with the plenty of London. My father's study at Buriton was stuffed with much trash of the last age, with much high church divinity and poUtics, which have long since gone to their proper place : yet it contained some valuable edi- tions of the classics and the fathers, the choice, as it should seem, of Mr. Law ; and many English publications of the tinies had been occasionally added. From this slender beginning I have gra- dually formed a numerous and select library, the foundation of my works, and the best comfort of my life, both at home and abroad. On the receipt of the first quarter, a large share of my allowance was appropriated to my literary wants. I cannot forget the joy with which I exchanged a bank-note of twenty pounds for the twenty volumes of the Memoirs of the Academy of Inscriptions ; nor would it have been easy, by any other expendi- ture of the same sum, to have procured so large and lasting a fund of rational amusement. At a time when I most assiduously frequented this school of ancient literature, I thus expressed my opinion of a learned and various collection, which since the year 1759 has been doubled in magni- tude, though not in merit — " Une de ccs societes, qui ont mieux immortalise Louis XIV. qu'une ambition souvent pernicieuse aux hommes, com- men9oit deja ces recherches qui reunissent la justesse de I'esprit, I'amenite et I'erudition: ou I'on voit tant de decouvertes, et quelquefois, ce qui ne cede qu'a peine aux decouvertes, une ignorance modeste et .sam?ite." The review of my library must be reserved for the period of its maturity ; CHAP. V. IMY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 135 but in this place I may allow myself to observe, tliat I am not conscious of liavin«: ever bought a book from a motive of ostentation, that every volume, before it was deposited on the shelf, was either read or sufficiently examined, and that I soon adopted the tolerating maxim of .the elder Pliny, " nullum esse librum tam malum ut non ex aliqua parte prodesset." I could not yet find leisure or courage to renew the pursuit of the Greek language, excepting by reading the lessons of the Old and New Testament every Sunday, when I attended the family to church. The series of my Latin authors was less strenuously com- pleted ; but the acquisition, by inheritance or purchase, of the best editions of Cicero, Quin- tilian, Livy, Tacitus, Ovid, &c. afforded a fair prospect, which I seldom neglected. I persevered in the useful method of abstracts and observations; and a single example may suffice, of a note which liad almost swelled into a work. The solution of a passage of Livy (xxxviii. 38) involved me in the dry and dark treatises of Greaves, Arbuthnot, Hooper, Bernard, Eisenschmidt, Gronovius, La- Barre, Freret, kc; and in my French essay (chap. SO.) I ridiculously send the reader to my own manuscript remarks on the weiglits, coins, and measures of the ancients, which were abruptly ter- minated by the militia drum. As I am now entering on a more ample field of society and study, I can only hope to avoid a vain and prolix garrulity, by overlooking the vulgar crowd of my acquaintance, and confining myself to such intimate friends among books and men, as K 4 13(5 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. are best entitled to my notice by their own merit and reputation, or by the deep impression which they have left on my mind. Yet I will embrace this occasion of recommending to the young student a practice, which about this time I myself adopted. After glancing my eye over the design and order of a new book, I suspended the perusal till I had finished the task of self-examination, till I had re- volved, in a solitary walk, all that I knew or believed, or had thought on the subject of the whole work, or of some particular chapter : I was then qualified to discern how much the author added to my ori- ginal stock ; and if I was sometimes satisfied by the agreement, I was sometimes armed by the op- position, of our ideas. The fav^ourite companions of my leisure were our English writers since the Revolution : they breathe the spirit of reason and liberty ; and they most seasonably contributed to restore the purity of my own language, whicli had been corrupted by the long use of a foreign idiom. By the judicious advice of Mr. Mallet, I was di- rected to the writings of Swift and Addison ; wit and simplicity are their common attributes ; but the style of Swift is supported by manly original vigour ; that of Addison is adorned by the female graces of elegance and mildness. * The old reproach, that no British altars had been raised to the Muse of History, was recently disproved by the first per- formances of Robertson and Hume, the histories of Scotland and of the Stuarts. I will assume the presumption of saying, that I was not unworthy to * This is remarkable : but this Addison produced little effect on transient admiration of Swift and the style of Gibbon. — M. CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 137 read them ; nor will T disgiiise my different feelings in the repeated perusals. The perfect composition, the nervous language, the well-turned ])eriods of Dr. Robertson, inflamed me to the ambitious hope that I might one day tread in his footsteps : the calm philoso})hy, the careless inimitable beauties of his friend and rival, often forced me to close the volume with a mixed sensation of delight and despair. The design of my first work, the Essay on the Study of Literature, was suggested by a refinement of vanity, the desire of justifying and praising the object of a favourite pursuit. In France, to which my ideas were confined, the learning and language of Greece and Rome were neglected by a phi- losophic age. The guardian of those studies, the Academy of Inscriptions, was degraded to the lowest rank among the three royal societies of Paris: the new appellation of Erudits was contemptuously applied to the successors of Lipsius and Casaubon ; and I was provoked to hear (see M. d'Alembert, Discours Preliminaire a I'Encyclopedie) that the exercise of the memory, their sole merit, had been superseded by the nobler faculties of the imagination and the judgment. I was ambitious of proving by my own example, as well as by my precepts, that all the faculties of the mind may be exercised and displayed by the study of ancient literature ; I began to select and adorn the various proofs and illustrations which had offered themselves in reading the classics ; and the first })ages or chapters of my essay were composed before my departure from Lausanne. The hurry of the journey, and of the 138 MEMOIRS OF CHAP.V. first weeks of my English life, suspended all thoughts of serious application : but my object was ever before my eyes ; and no more than ten days, from the first to the eleventh of July, were suffered to elapse after my summer establishment at Buriton. My essay was finished in about six weeks ; and as soon as a fair copy had been transcribed by one of the French prisoners at Petersfield, I looked round for a critic and judge of my first performance. A writer can seldom be content with the doubtful recompense of solitary approbation ; but a youth ignoraut of the world, and of himself, must desire to weigh his talents in some scales less partial than his own : my conduct was natural, my motive laudable, my choice of Dr. Maty judicious and fortunate. By descent and education Dr. Maty, though born in Holland, might be considered as a Frenchman ; but he was fixed in London by the practice of physic, and an office in the British Museum. His reputation was justly founded on the eighteen volumes of the Journal J^riltannique, which he had supported, almost alone, with per- severance and success. This humble though useful labour, which had once been dignified by the genius of Bayle and the learning of Le Clerc, was not disgraced by tlie taste, the knowledge, and the judgment of Maty : he exhibits a candid and pleasing view of the state of literature in ]<]ngland during a period of six years (January, I70O — De- cember, 1755) ; and, far different from his angry son, he handles the rod of criticism with the ten- derness and reluctance of a parent. The author of the Journal Brittannique sometimes aspires to CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 139 the clmracter of a poet and philosopher : his style is pure and elegant ; and in his virtues, or even in his defects, he may be ranked as one of the last disciples of the school of Fontenelle. His answer to my first letter was prom])t and polite : after a careful examination he returned my manuscri})t, with some animadversion and much applause ; and when I visited London in the ensuing winter, we discussed the design and execution in several free and familiar conversations. In a short excursion to Buriton I reviewed my essay, according to his friendly advice ; and after suppressing a third, adding a third, and altering a third, I consummated my first labour by a short preface, which is dated February 3d, 17.59. Yet I still shrunk from the })ress with the terrors of virgin modesty : the ma- nuscript was safely deposited in my desk ; and as my attention was engaged by new objects, the delay might have been prolonged till I had fulfilled the precept of Horace, **nonumqueprematur in annum." Father Sirmond, a learned Jesuit, was still more rigid, since he advised a young friend to expect the mature age of fifty, before he gave himself or his writings to the public (Olivet, Histoire de I'Aca- demie Fran9oise, tom, ii. p. 143.). The counsel was singular ; but it is still more singular that it should have been approved by the example of the author. Sirmond was himself fifty-five years of age when he published (in iGl 1) his first work, an edition of Sidonius Apollinaris, with many valuable annotations. (See his life, before the great edition of his works in five volumes folio, Paris, 169^, e Typographic Ilegia.) 140 MEMOIRS OF CHAP.V. Two years elapsed in silence : but in the spring of 1761 I yielded to tlie autliority of a parent, and complied, like a pious son, witli the wish of my own heart. (1) ]\Iy private resolves were in- fluenced by the state of Europe. About this time the belligerent powers had made and accepted overtures of peace ; our English plenipotentiaries were named to assist at the Congress of Augsburg, which never met : I wished to attend them as a gentleman or a secretary ; and my father fondly believed that the proof of some literary talents might introduce me to public notice, and second the recommendations of my friends. After a last revisal I consulted with Mr. Mallet and Dr. Maty, who approved the design and promoted the execu- tion. Mr. Mallet, after hearing me read my manu- script, received it from my hands, and delivered it into those of Becket, with whom he made an agreement in my name; an easy agreement : I re- quired only a certain number of copies ; and, without transferring my property, I devolved on the bookseller the charges and profits of the edi- tion. Dr. Maty undertook, in my absence, to correct the sheets : he inserted, without my know- ledge, an elegant and flattering e})istle to the author ; which is composed, however, with so much art, that, in case of a defeat, his favourable report might have been ascribed to the indulgence of a friend for the rash attempt of a /jouni>' Engli.sJi gentleman. The work was printed and published, under the title of Essai sur I'E'tude de la Littera- ture, a Londres, chez T. Becket ct P. A, de Hondt, 1761, in a small volume in duodecimo : my dedica- CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 141 tion to my father, a proper and pious address, was composed the twenty-eighth of May : Dr. Maty*s letter is dated the lOth of June ; and I received the first copy (June 23d) at Ahesford, two days before I marched with the Hampshire mihtia. Some weeks afterwards, on the same ground, I presented my book to the kite Duke of York, wlio breakfasted in Colonel Pitt's tent. By my father's direction, and Mallet's advice, many literary gifts were distributed to several eminent characters in England and France ; two books were sent to the Count de Caylus, and the Duchesse d'Aiguillon, at Paris : I had reserved twenty copies for my friends at Lausanne, as the first fruits of my edu- cation, and a grateful token of my remembrance : and on all these persons I levied an unavoidable tax of civility and compliment. It is not surprising that a work, of which the style and sentiments were so totally foreign, should have been more successful abroad than at home. I was delighted by the copious extracts, the warm commendations, and the flattering predictions of the Journals of France and Holland : and the next year (I7G2) a new edition (I believe at Geneva) extended the flime, or at least the circulation, of the work. In England it was received with cold indifference, little read, and speedily forgotten : a small impression was slowly dispersed ; the bookseller murmured, and the author (had his feelings been more exquisite) might have wept over the blunders and baldness of the English translation. The publication of my History hfteen years afterwards revived the me- mory of my first performance, and the Essay was 142 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. eagerly sought in tlie shops. But I refused the permission wliich Beckct soUcited of reprinting it : the public curiosity was imperfectly satisfied by a pirated copy of the booksellers of Dublin ; and when a copy of the original edition has been discovered in a sale, the primitive value of half-a- crown has risen to the fanciful price of a guinea or thirty shillings. I have expatiated on the petty circumstances and period of my first publication, a memorable acra in the life of a student, when he ventures to reveal the measure of his mind : his hopes and fears are multiplied by the idea of self-importance, and he believes for a while that the eyes of man- kind are fixed on his person and performance. Whatever may be my present reputation, it no longer rests on the merit of this first essay ; and at the end of twenty-eight years I may appreciate my juvenile work with the impartiality, and almost with the indifference, of a stranger. In his an- swer to Lady Hervey, the Count de Caylus ad- mires, or affects to admire, " les livres sans nombre que Mr. Gibbon a lus et trcs bien lus."^' But, alas ! my stock of erudition at that time was scanty and superficial -, and if I allow myself the liberty of naming the Greek masters, my genuine and personal acquaintance was confined to the Latin classics. The most serious defect of my Essay is a kind of obscurity and abruptness which always fatigues, and may often elude, the attention of the 2 See Appendix, Letter, No. XIII .; and Count de Caylus's Letter, vol. ii. p. 43. CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. J43 reader. Instead of a precise and proper definition of the title itself, the sense of the word Littcrature is loosely and variously ap})lied : a number of remarks and examples, historical, critical, philoso- phical, are heaped on each other without method or connection ; and if we except some introductory pages, all the remaining chapters might indifferently be reversed or transposed. The obscurity of many passages is often affected, brevis esse laboro, ob- scurus Jio ; the desire of expressing perhaps a common idea with sententious and oracular brevity : alas ! how fatal has been the imitation of Mon- tesquieu ! But this obscurity sometimes proceeds from a mixture of light and darkness in the author's mind ; from a partial ray which strikes upon an angle, instead of spreading itself over the surf ice of an object. After tliis fair confession I shall presume to say, that tlie Essay does credit to a young writer of two and twenty years of age, who had read with taste, who thinks with freedom, and who writes in a foreign language with spirit and elegance. The defence of the early History of Rome and the new Chronology of Sir Isaac Newton form a specious argument. The patriotic and po- litical design of the Georgics is liap})ily conceived ; and any probable conjecture, which tends to raise the dignity of the poet and the poem, deserves to be adopted, without a rigid scrutiny. Some dawnings of a philosophic spirit enlighten the general remarks on the study of history and of man. I am not displeased with tlie inquiry into the origin and nature of the gods of polytheism, which might deserve the illustration of a riper judgment. 144" MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. Upon the whole, I may apply to the first labour of my pen the speech of a far superior artist, when lie surveyed the first productions of liis pencil. After viewing some portraits which he had painted in his youth, my friend Sir Joshua Reynolds acknow- ledged to me, that he was rather humbled than flattered by the comparison with his present works ; and that after so much time and study, he had con- ceived his improvement to be much greater than he found it to have been.* At Lausanne I composed the first chapters of my Essay in French, the familiar language of my con- versation and studies, in which it was easier for me to write than in my mother-tongue. After my return to England I continued the same prac- tice, without any affectation, or design of re- pudiating (as Dr. Bentley would say) my verna- cular idiom. But I should have escaped some Anti-gallican clamour, had I been content with the more natural character of an English author. I should have been more consistent, had I rejected Mallet's advice, of prefixing an English dedication * The intelligent modern reader composed the military colonies, to will be inclined to adopt Gibbon's the pacific influence of Virgil's estimate of his early work. Its poetry. No sul)ject has been pursued faults are very clearly indicated ; it with greater erudition and variety is a collection of shrewd and of opinion by Continental scholars acute observations, without order than the origin of Polytheism. or connexion. The defence of the Gibbon's theory was far ailvanced early History of Rome and of beyond his age, and might suggest Newton's Chronology are not more something like an amicalile coni- than specious: there is ingenuity, promise between theSymbolists and but little more, in the tiieory about Anti-Symbolists of Germany, the the Georgics; and Gibbon, in his ma- respective schools of Creuzer and turer judgement, n)ight have smiled Voss. The essay is to be found at his attriliUting the thirty years' in the fourth volume of the miscel- quiet of the turbulent veterans who laneous works, — M. CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 145 to a French book ; ii confusion of tongues that seemed to accuse the ignorance of my patron. TJie use of a foreign dialect might be excused by the hope of being employed as a negotiator, by the desire of being generally understood on the continent ; but my true motive was doubtless the ambition of new and singular fame, an English- man claiming a place among the writers of France. The Latin tongue had been consecrated by the service of the church, it was refined by the imi- tation of the ancients ; and in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the scholars of Europe enjoyed the advantage, which they have gradually resigned, of conversing and writing in a common and learned idiom. As that idiom was no longer in any country the vulgar speech, they all stood on a level with each other ; yet a citizen of old Rome might have smiled at the best Latinity of the Germans and Britons ; and we may learn from the Ciceronianus of Erasmus, how difficult it was found to steer a middle course between pedantry and barbarism. The Romans themselves had some- times attempted a more perilous task, of writing in a living language, and appealing to the taste and judgment of the natives. The vanity of Tully was doubly interested in the Greek memoirs of his own consulship ; and if he modestly supposes that some Latinisms might be detected in his style, he is confident of his own skill in the art of Isocrates and Aristotle ; and he requests his friend Atticus to disperse the copies of his work at Athens, and in the other cities of Greece («f/ Atticumy i. I9. ii. 1.). But it must not be forgotten, that from in- L 146 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. fancy to manhood Cicero and his contemporaries liad read and declaimed, and composed with equal diligence in both languages ; and that he was not allowed to frequent a Latin school till he had im- bibed the lessons of the Greek grammarians and rhetoricians. In modern times, the language of France has been diffused by the merit of her writers, the social manners of the natives, the influence of the monarchy, and the exile of the protestants. Several foreigners have seized the opportunity of speaking to Europe in this common dialect, and Germany may plead the authority of Leibnitz and Frederic, of the first of her philosophers, and the greatest of her kings. The just pride and laudable prejudice of England has restrained this commu- nication of idioms ; and of all the nations on this side of the Alps, my countrymen are the least practised and least perfect in the exercise of the French tongue. By Sir William Temple and Lord Chesterfield it was only used on occasions of ci- vility and business, and their printed letters will not be quoted as models of composition. Lord Bolingbroke may have published in French a sketch of his Reflections on Exile : but his reputation now reposes on the address of Voltaire, " Docte sermones utriusque lingua) ; " and by his English dedication to Queen Caroline, and his Essay on Epic Poetry, it should seem that Voltaire himself wished to deserve a return of the same compliment. The exception of Count Hamilton cannot fairly be urged ; though an Lishman by birth, he was educated in France from his childhood. Yet I am surprised that a long residence in England, and CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 147 tlie habits of domestic conversation, did not affect the ease and purity of his inimitable style ; and I regret the omission of his English verses, which might have afforded an amusing object of com- parison. I might therefore assume the jjiimus ego in patriamy Sfc. ; but with what success I have ex- plored this untrodden path must be left to the decision of my French readers. Dr. Maty, who might himself be questioned as a foreigner, has secured his retreat at my expense. " Je ne crois pas que vous vous piquiez d'etre moins facile a re- connoitre pour un Anglois que Lucullus pour un llomain. " j\Iy friends at Paris have been more indulgent : they received me as a countryman, or at least as a provincial ; but they were friends and Parisians.^ The defects which Maty insinuates, *' Ces traits saillans, ces figures hardies, ce sacrifice de la regie au sentiment, et de la cadence a la force, '* are the faults of the youth, rather than of the stranger : and after the long and laborious ex- ercise of my own language, I am conscious that my French style has been ripened and improved. * I have already hinted that the publication of my Essay was delayed till I had embraced the military 3 The copious extracts which were given in the Journal Etranger by Mr. Siiarci, a judicious critic, must satisfy both the author and the public. I may here observe, that I liave never seen in any literary review a tolerable account of my History. The manufacture of journals, at least on the continent, is miserably debased. * Two modern writers of imagi- traordinary effort of composition nation, Mr. Beckford and the late in a foreign language by an En- Mr. Hope, originally wrote, the one glishman is the translation of Hu- Vathek, the other Anastasius, in dibras by Mr. Townley. — M. French ; but perhaps the most ex- L 2 148 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. profession. I sliall now amuse myself with the recollection of an activ^e scene, which bears no affinity to any otlier ])criocl of my studious and so- cial life. In tlie outset of a glorious war, the English people had been defended by the aid of German mercenaries. A national militia has been the cry of every patriot since the Revolution ; and this measure, both in Parliament and in the field, was supported by tlie country gentlemen or Tories, who insensibly transferred their loyalty to the house of Hanover: in the language of Mr. Burke, they have changed the idol, but they have preserved the idolatry. In the act of offering our names and re- ceiving our commissions, as major and captain in the Hampshire regiment (June 12th, ly^O), we had not supposed that we should be dragged away, my father from his farm, myself from my books, and condemned, during two years and a half (May 10, lyGO — December 23, 17^2), to a wandering life of military servitude. But a weekly or monthly ex- ercise of thirty thousand provincials would have left them useless and ridiculous ; and after the pre- tence of an invasion had vanished, the popularity of Mr. Pitt gave a sanction to the illegal step of keeping them till the end of the war under arms, in constant pay and duty, and at a distance from their respective homes. AVhcn the King's order for our embodying came down, it was too late to retreat, and too soon to repent. The South battalion of tlic Hampshire militia was a small independent corps of four hundred and seventy-six, officers and men, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Sir Thomas CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 149 Worsley, wlio, after a prolix and passionate con- test, delivered us from the tyranny of the Lord Lieutenant, the Duke of Bolton. My proper sta- tion, as first captain, was at the liead of my own, and afterwards of the grenadier company ; but in the absence, or even in the presence, of tlie two field officers, I was entrusted by my friend and my father with the effective labour of dictating the or- ders, and exercising the battalion. With the help of an original journal, I could write the history of my bloodless and inglorious campaigns; but as these events have lost much of their importance in my own eyes, they shall be despatched in a few words. From Winchester, the first place of assembly (June 4, I7G0), we were removed, at our own request, for the benefit of a foreign education. By the arbi- trary, and often capricious, orders of the War Office, the battalion successively marched to the pleasant and hospitable Blandford (June 1?); to Hilsea bar- racks, a seat of disease and discord (September 1); toCranbrook in the Weald of Kent (December 11); to the sea-coast of Dover (December 27) ; to Win- chester camp (June 0,5, I76I); to the populous and disorderly town of Devizes (October 23); to Salis- bury (February 28, I762) ; to our beloved Bland- ford a second time (March 9); and finally, to the fashionable resort of Southampton (June 2); where the colours were fixed till our final dissolution (December 23). On the beach at Dover we had exercised in sight of the Gallic shores. But the most splendid and useful scene of our life was a four months encampment on Winchester Down, under the command of the Earl of Effingham. L 3 150 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. Our army consisted of the thirty-fourth regiment of foot and six mihtia corps. The consciousness of defects was stimulated by friendly emidation. We improved our time and opportunities in morning and evening field-days ; and in the general reviews the South Hampshire were rather a credit than a disgrace to the line. In our subsequent quarters of the Devizes and Blandford, we advanced with a quick step in our military studies ; the ballot of the ensuing summer renewed our vigour and youth ; and had the militia subsisted another year, we might have contested the prize with the most perfect of our brethren. The loss of so many busy and idle hours was not compensated by any elegant pleasure ; and my temper was insensibly soured by the society of our rustic officers. In every state there exists, how- ever, a balance of good and evil. The habits of a sedentary life were usefully broken by the duties of an active profession: in the healthful exercise of the field I hunted with a battalion, instead of a pack ; and at that time I was ready, at any hour of the day or night, to fly from quarters to London, from London to quarters, on the slightest call of private or regimental business. But my principal obligation to the militia, was the making me an Englishman and a soldier. After my foreign edu- cation, with my reserved temper, I should long have continued a stranger to my native country, had I not been shaken in this various scene of new faces and new friends ; had not experience forced me to feel the characters of our leading men, the state of parties, the forms of office, and the ope- CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 151 ration of our civil and military system. In this peaceful service, I imbibed the rudiments of the language and science of tactics, which opened a new field of study and observation. I diligently read, and meditated, the 3Iamoires Militaires of Quintus Icilius (Mr. Guichardt), the only writer who has united the merits of a professor and a veteran. (2) The discipline and evolutions of a modern battalion gave me a clearer notion of the phalanx and the legion ; and the captain of the Hampshire grenadiers (the reader may smile) has not been useless to the historian of the Roman empire. A youth of any spirit is fired even by the play of arms, and in the first sallies of my enthusiasm I had seriously attempted to embrace the regular profes- sion of a soldier. But this military fever was cooled by the enjoyment of our mimic Bellona, who soon unveiled to my eyes her naked deformity. How often did I sigh for my proper station in society and letters ! How often (a proud comparison) did I repeat the complaint of Cicero in the command of a provincial army! " Clitella^ bovi sunt impo- sitae. Est incredibile quam me negotii taideat. Non habet satis magnum campum ille tibi non ignotus cursus animi ; et industriae mese praeclara opera cessat. Lucem, libros, urbem, domum, vos desi- dero. Sed feram, ut potero ; sit modo an n num. Si prorogatur, actum est."^ From a service without danoer I mii^ht indeed have retired without dis- grace; but as often as I hinted a wish of resigning, my fetters were rivetted by the friendly entreaties ■i Epist. ad Atticum, lib. v. 15. L 4 152 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. of the colonel, the parental authority of the major, and my own regard for the lionoin* and welfare of the battalion. When I felt that my personal escape was impracticable, I bowed my neck to the yoke : my servitude was protracted far beyond the annual patience of Cicero ; and it was not till after the preliminaries of peace that I received my discharge, from the act of government which disembodied the militia. (3) When I complain of the loss of time, justice to myself and to the militia must' throw the greatest part of that reproach on the first seven or eight months, while I was obliged to learn as well as to teach. The dissipation of Blandford, and the dis- putes of Portsmouth, consumed the hours which were not employed in the field ; and amid the per- petual hurry of an inn, a barrack, or a guard-room, all literary ideas were banished from my mind. After this long fast, the longest which I have ever known, I once more tasted at Dover the pleasures of reading and tliinking ; and the hungry a])petite with which I opened a volume of Tully's philoso- phical works is still present to my memory. The last review of my Essay before its publication, had prompted me to investigSLte the nature of the gods ; my inquiries led me to the Histoire Critique du Manicheisme of Beausobre, who discusses many deep questions of Pagan and Christian theology : and from this rich treasury of facts and opinions, I deduced my own consequences, beyond the holy circle of the author. After this recovery I never relapsed into indolence ; and my example might prove, that in the life most averse to study, some CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 153 hours may be stolen, some minutes maybe snatched. Amidst the tumult of Winchester camp I some- times thouglit and read in my tent ; in the more settled quarters of the Devizes, Blandford, and Southampton, I always secured a separate lodging, and the necessary books ; and in the summer of 1762, while the new militia was raising, I enjoyed at Beriton two or three months of literary repose. (4) In forming a new plan of study, I hesitated between the mathematics and the Greek language ; both of which 1 had neglected since my return from Lau- sanne. I consulted a learned and friendly mathe- matician, Mr. George Scott, a pupil of de Moivre ; and his map of a country which I have never ex- plored, may perhaps be more serviceable to others.^ As soon as I had given the preference to Greek, the example of Scaliger and my own reason deter- mined me on the choice of Homer, the father of poetry, and the Bible of the ancients ; but Scaliger ran through the Iliad in one and twenty days ; and I was not dissatisfied with my own diligence for performing the same labour in an equal number of weeks. After the first difficulties were surmounted, the language of nature and harmony soon became easy and familiar, and each day I sailed upon the ocean with a brisker gale and a more steady course. 'Ev o' ai'mo£ TTptjfffi' fikaov tTrioi', afcpi Sk Kiif-ia '2Ttip)j TToprpvpeov jutya'X' '«Xf> »'';"C !ov(tiiq' 'H S' kQetv KUTa icvua ctcnrpi'iffffoiKTa KtXe'uOaf^ Ilias, A. 481. s See Appendix, Letter, No. XIV. from Mr. Scott to Mr. Gibbon. 6 Fair wind, and blowing fresh, Apollo sent them ; quick they rear'd the mast, 154 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. In the study of a poet who has since become the most intimate of my friends, I successively applied many passages and fragments of Greek writers ; and among these I shall notice a life of Homer, in the Opuscula Mythologica of Gale, several books of the geography of Strabo, and the entire treatise of Longinus, which, from the title and the style, is equally worthy of the epithet of sublime. My grammatical skill was improved, my vocabulary was enlarged ; and in the militia I acquired a just and indelible knowledge of the first of languages. On every march, in every journey, Horace was always in my pocket, and often in my hand ; but I should not mention his two critical epistles, the amusement of a morning, had they not been ac- companied by the elaborate commentary of Dr. Hurd, now Bishop of Worcester. On the inter- esting subjects of composition and imitation of epic and dramatic poetry, I presumed to think for my- self; and thirty close- written pages in folio could scarcely comprise my full and free discussion of the sense of the master and the pedantry of the servant. '^ After his oracle Dr. Johnson, my friend Sir Joshua Reynolds denies all original genius, any natural propensity of the mind to one art or science rather than another. Without engaging in a me- taphysical or rather verbal dispute, 1 know, by ex- Then spread th' unsvillicd canvass to tlic i;alc, And the wind fdl'd it. Koar'd the sahle flood Around the hark, that ever as she went Dash'd wide the brine and scudded swift away. Cowper's Homer, 7 Sec Vol. II. Miscellaneous Works. CIIAr. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 1.55 periencc, that from my early youth I aspired to the character of an historian. AVhile I served in the miUtia, before and after the publication of my Essay, this idea ripened in my mind ; nor can I paint in more lively colours the feelings of the moment, than by transcribing some passages, under their respective dates, from a journal which I kept at that time. Beriton, April 14. lyGl. (7« a short excursion from Dover.) " Having thought of several subjects for an his- torical composition, I chose the expedition of Charles VIII. of France into Italy. I read two memoirs of Mr. de Forcemagne in the Academy of Inscriptions (tom. xvii. p. 539 — 6O7.), and ab- stracted them. I likewise finished this day a dis- sertation, in which I examine the right of Charles VIII. to the crown of Naples, and the rival claims of the House of Anjou and Arragon : it consists of ten folio pages, besides large notes." ^ Beriton, August 4. I76I. (Li a week's excursion from Winchester camj).) "After having long revolved subjects for my in- tended historical essay, I renounced my first thought of the expedition of Charles VIII. as too remote from us, and rather an introduction to great events, than great and important in itself. I successively chose and rejected the crusade of Richard I., the barons' wars against John and Henry III., the history of Edward the Black Prince, the lives 8 Sec Vol. II. p. G, 156 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. and comparisons of Henry V. and the Emperor Titus, the life of Sir Philip Sidney, and that of the Marquis of Montrose. At length I have fixed on Sir Walter Raleigh for my hero. His eventful story is varied by the characters of the soldier and sailor, the courtier and historian ; and it may afford such a fund of materials as I desire, which have not yet been properly manufactured. At present I cannot attempt the execution of this work. Free leisure, and the opportunity of consulting many books, both printed and manuscript, are as necessary as they are impossible to be attained in my present way of life. However, to acquire a general insight into my subject and resources, I read the life of Sir Walter Raleigh by Dr. Birch, his copious article in the General Dictionary by the same hand, and the reigns of Queen Elizabeth and James I., in Hume's History of England." Beriton, January, I762. (/« a monilia absence from the Devizea.) " During this interval of repose, I again turned my thoughts to Sir Walter Raleigh, and looked more closely into my materials. I read the two volumes in quarto of the Bacon Papers, published by Dr. Birch ; the Fragmenta Regalia of Sir Robert Naunton, Mallet's Life of Lord Bacon, and the po- litical treatises of that great man in the first volume of his works, with many of his letters in the second; Sir William Monson's Naval Tracts, and the ela- borate Life of Sir Walter Raleigh, which Mr. Oldys has prefixed to the best edition of his History of HAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 157 the World. My subject opens upon mc, and in general improves upon a nearer prospect.'* Beriton, July 26. 17G2. (During vii/ suiiima' residence.^ " I am afraid of being reduced to drop my hero ; but my time has not, however, been lost in the research of his story, and of a memorable era of our English annals. The Life of Sir Walter llaleigh, by Oldys, is a very poor performance ; a servile panegyric, or flat apology, tediously minute, and composed in a dull and affected style. Yet the author was a man of diligence and learning, who had read every thing relative to his subject, and whose ample collections are arranged with perspi- cuity and method. Excepting some anecdotes lately revealed in the Sidney and Bacon Papers, I know not what I should be able to add. My am- bition (exclusive of the uncertain merit of style and sentiment) must be confined to the hope of giving a good abridgment of Oldys. I have even the dis- appointment of finding some parts of this copious work very dry and barren ; and these parts are un- luckily some of the most characteristic ; Raleigh's colony of Virginia, his quarrels with Essex, the true secret of his conspiracy, and, above all, the detail of his private life, the most essential and important to a biographer. My best resource w^ould be in the circumjacent history of the times, and perhaps in some digressions artfully introduced, like the fortunes of the Peripatetic philosophy in the por- trait of Lord Bacon. But the reigns of Elizabeth and James I. are the periods of English history, 1,58 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. V. which have been the most variously iihistrated ; and what new lights could I reflect on a subject, which has exercised the accurate industry of BircJi^ the lively and curious acuteness of TValpole^ the critical spirit of Hurdy the vigorous sense of Mallet and Robertson, and the impartial philosophy of Hume ? Could I even surmount these obstacles, I should shrink with terror from the modern history of England, where every character is a problem, and every reader a friend or an enemy ; where a writer is supposed to hoist a flag of party, and is devoted to damnation by the adverse faction. Such would be m^ reception at home : and abroad, the historian of Raleigh must encounter an indifference far more bitter than censure or reproach. The events of his life are interesting ; but his character is ambiguous, his actions are obscure, his writings are English, and his fame is confined to the narrow limits of our language and our island. I must embrace a safer and more extensive theme. " There is one which I should prefer to all others, Tlie History oftlie Liberty of the Swiss*, of that independence which a brave people res- cued from the House of Austria, defended against a Dauphin of France, and finally sealed with the blood of Charles of Burgundy. From such a theme, so full of public spirit, of military glory, of examples of virtue, of lessons of government, the dullest stranger would catch fire : what might not * This historical ground is now chiefly drawn from Miiller; but for occupied by the great work of a poi)uIar history I should prefer Miiller. The late Mr. Planta's that of Zschokke, Scliweizerlands History of the Helvetic Confede- Geschichte fiir das Schweizervolk. racy is a very pleasing narrative, CHAP. V. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 159 / Iiope, whose talents, whatsoever they may be, would be inflamed with the zeal of patriotism. But the materials of tliis history are inaccessible to me, fast locked in the obscurity of an old barbarous German dialect, of which I am totally ignorant, and which I cannot resolve to learn for this sole and peculiar purpose. " I have another subject in view, which is the contrast of the former history : the one a poor, warlike, virtuous republic, which emerges into glory and freedom ; the other a commonwealth, soft, opulent, and corrupt; which, byjust degrees, is precipitated from the abuse to the loss of her liberty : both lessons are, perhaps, equally in- structive. This second subject is, Tlte History of the Mepuhlic of Florence, under the House of Medicis* : a period of one hundred and fifty years, which rises or descends from the dregs of the Florentine democracy, to the title and dominion of Cosmo de Medicis in the Grand Duchy of Tuscany. I might deduce a chain of revolutions not unworthy of the pen of Vertot ; singular men, and singular events; the Medicis four times expelled, and as often recalled ; and the Genius of Freedom re- luctantly yielding to the arms of Charles V. and the policy of Cosmo. The character and fate of Savanarola, and the revival of arts and letters in Italy, will be essentially connected with the ele- vation of the family and the fall of the republic. * The works of the late Mr. is executed witli imicli elegance. Roscoe, the Lives of Lorenzo and The great political picture would of Leo X. have but i)artially require a firmer and more vi- fulfiUed this great design. The gorous hand, literary part of these histories l60 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. The Medicis, stirps quasi flitaliter nata ad instau- raiida vel fovenda studia (Lipsius ad Germanos et Gallos, Epist. viii.), were illustrated by the patronage of learning ; and enthusiasm was the most for- midable weapon of their adversaries. On this splendid subject I shall most probably fix ; but iclien, or ivherc, or ho/r will it be executed ? I behold in a dark and doubtful perspective ; " Res alta, terra, et caligine mersas.( ') NOTES AND ADDITIONS. No. 1. page 140. .Journal, March 8th, 1758. — I began my Essai sur TEtude de la Litterature, and wrote the 23 first chapters (excepting tlie following ones, 11, 12, 13. 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.) before I left Switzerland. Jidy 1 1th. I again took in hand my Essay ; and in about six weeks finished it, from C. 23—55, (excepting 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33. and note to C. 38.) besides a number of chapters from C. 55. to the end, which are now struck out. Feb. 1 1th, 1759. I wrote the chapters of my Essay, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, the note to C. 38. and the first part of the preface. Ajiril 23d, 1761. Being at length, by my father's advice, determined to publish my Essay, I revised it with great care, made many alterations, struck out a considerable part, and wrote the chapters from 57 — 78., which I was obliged myself to copy out fair. June 10th, 1701. Finding the printing of my book proceeded but slowly, I went up to town, where I found the whole was finished. I gave Becket orders for the presents : 20 for Lausanne ; copies for the Duke of Richmond, Marquis of Carnarvon, Lords W^aldcgrave, Litch- field, Bath, Granville, Bute, Shelbourn, Chesterfield, Ilardwicke, Lady Ilervey, Sir Joseph Yorke, Sir Matthew Featherstone, INIIM. Mallet, INIaty, Scott, Wray, Lord Egremont, M. de Bussy, Mademoiselle la Duchesse d'Aiguillon,and M. le Comte de Caylus : — great part of these were only my father's or Mallet's acquaintance. CHAP. V. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. iGl No 2, page 151. Gibbon's Journal (Misc. Works, vol. v. 219 — 223.) contains a more detailed criticism on these Mcmoires of M. Guiciiardt. May 21st. — I read in the Mcmoires tlic translation of the military institutions of Onozander, full of that common-place sense which every one can write, and no one can deny. 22d. — I read the Tactics of Arrian, translated in the Memoires. They are very curious and exact, and give a very clear potion of the nature, arms, and discipline of the phalanx ; but it is very odd Arrian should rather compile these Tactics from Greek writers, than write from his own knowledge an account of the Roman legions, which he had himself seen and commanded. 23d. — I read the Analysis of Caesar's Campaign in Africa. Every motion of that great general is laid open with a critical sagacity. A complete military history of his campaigns would do almost as much honour to M. Guichardt as to Caesar. This finished the Memoires, which gave me a much clearer notion of ancient tactics than I ever had before. Indeed, my own military knowledge was of some service to me, as I am well acquainted with the modern discipline and exercise of a battalion. So that, though nmch inferior to M. Folard and M. Gui- chardt, who had seen service, I am a much better judge than Salmasius, Casaubon, or Lipsius ; mere scholars, who perhaps had never seen a battalion under arms. No. 3. page 152. Journal, January 11th, 1761. — In these seven or eight months of a most disagreeably active life, I have had no studies to set down ; indeed, I hardly took a book in my hand the whole time. The first two months at Blandford, I might have done something ; but the no- velty of the thing, of which for some time I was so fond as to think of going into the army, our field-days, our dinners abroad, and the drinking and late hours we got into, prevented any serious reflections. From the day we marched from Blandford I had hardly a moment I could call my own, almost continually in motion ; if I was fixed for a day, it was in the guard-room, a barrack, or an inn. Our disputes consumed the little time I had left. Every letter, every memorial relative to them fell to my share ; and our evening conferences were used to hear all the morning hours strike. At last I got to Dover, and Sir Thomas left us for two months. The charm was over ; I was sick of so hateful a service ; I was settled in a comparatively quiet situation. Once more I began to taste the pleasure of thinking. Recollecting some thoughts I had formerly had in relation to the System of Paganism, which I intended to make use of in my Essay, I resolved to read Tully, de Natura Deorum, and finished it in about a month. I lost some time before I could recover my habit of application. M 162 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. Oct. 23d. — Our first design was to march through Marlborough ; but finding on inquiry that it was a bad road, and a great way about, we resolved to push for the Devizes in one day, though nearly thirty miles. We accordingly arrived there about three o'clock in the after- noon. Nov. 2d. — I have very little to say for this and the following month. Nothing could be more uniform than the life I led there. The little civility of the neighbouring gentlemen gave us no opportunity of dining out ; the time of year did not tempt us to any excursions round the country ; and at first my indolence, and afterwards a violent cold, pre- vented my going over to Bath. I believe in the two months I never dined or lay from quarters, I can therefore only set down what I did in the literary way. Designing to recover my Greek, which I had somewhat neglected, I set myself to read Homer, and finished the four first books of the Iliad, with Pope's translation and notes ; at the same time, to understand the geography of the Iliad, and particularly the catalogue, I read the 8th, 9th, 10th, 12th, 13th, and 14th books of Strabo, in Casaubon's Latin translation ; 1 likewise read Hume's His- tory of England to the Reign of Henry the Seventh, just published, ingenious but supcrjicial ; and the Journals des Scavfins for August, Sep- tember, and October 1761, with the Blhliothcque dcs Sciences, &c., from July to October : both these Journals speak very handsomely of my book. December 25th, 1761. — When, upon finishing the year, I take a review of what I have done, I am not dissatisfied with what I did in it, upon making proper allowances. On the one hand, I could begin nothing before the middle of January. The Deal duty lost me part of February; although I was at home part of March, and all April, yet electioneering is no friend to the Muses. May, indeed, though dissi- pated by our sea parties, was i)retty quiet ; but June was absolutely lost, upon the march, at Alton, and settling ourselves in camp. The four succeeding months in camp allowed me little leisure, and less quiet. November and December were indeed as much my own as any time can be whilst I remain in the militia ; but still it is, at best, not a life for a man of letters. However, in this tumultuous year (besides smaller things which I have set down) I read four books of Homer in Greek, six of Strabo in Latin, Cicero de Natura Deoruni, and the great philo- sophical and theological work of INI. de Beausobre : I wrote in the same time a long dissertation on the succession of Naples ; reviewed, fitted for the press, and augmented above a fourth, my Essai sur I'E'tude de la Litterature. In the six weeks I passed at Bcriton, as I never stirred from it, every day was like the former. I had neither visits, hunting, nor walking. My only resources were myself, my books, and family conversations. — But to me these were great resources. April 24th, 1762. — I waited upon Colonel Harvey in the morning CHAP. V. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. l63 to get him to apply for nie to be brigade-major to Lord Effingham, as a post I should be very fond of, and for which I am not unfit. Harvey received me with great good-nature and candour, told me he was both willing and able to serve me ; that indeed he had already applied to Lord Effingham for Leake, one of his own officers, and though there would be more than one brigade-major, he did not think he covdd properly recommend two ; but that if I could get some other person to break the ice, he would second it, and believed he should succeed ; should that fail, as Leake was in bad circumstances, he believed he could make a compromise with him (this was my desire) to let me do the duty without pay. I went from him to the Mallets, who promised to get Sir Charles Ilow-ard to speak to Lord Effingham. August 22d. — I went with Ballard to the French church, where I heard a most indifferent sermon preached by M. ******. A very bad style, a worse pronunciation and action, and a very great vacuity of ideas, composed this excellent performance. Upon the whole, which is preferable, the philosophic method of the English, or the rhetoric of the French preachers ? The first (though less glorious) is certainly safer for the preacher. It is difficult for a man to make himself ridiculous, who proposes only to deliver plain sense on a subject he has thoi'oughly studied. But the instant he discovers the least pretensions towards the sublime or the pathetic, there is no medium ; we must either admire or laugh ; and there are so many various talents requisite to form the character of an orator, that it is more than probable we shall laugh. As to the advantage of the hearer, which ought to be the great consi- deration, the dilemma is much greater. Excepting in some particular cases, where we are l)liuded by popular prejudices, we are in general so well acquainted with our duty, that it is almost superfluous to con- vince us of it. It is the heart, and not the head, that holds out ; and it is certainly possible, by a moving eloquence, to rouse the sleeping sentiments of that heart, and incite it to acts of virtue. Unluckily it is not so much acts, as habits of virtue, we should have in view ; and the preacher who is inculcating, with the eloquence of a Bourdaloue, the necessity of a virtuous life, will dismiss his assembly full of emotions, which a variety of other objects, the coldness of our northern constitu- tions, and no immediate opportunity of exerting their good resolutions, will dissipate in a few moments. 24th. — The same reason that carried so many people to the assembly to-night, was what kept me away ; I mean the dancing. 28th. — To-day Sir Thomas came to us to dinner. The Spa has done him a great deal of good, for he looks another man. Pleased to see him, we kept biunperizing till after roll-calling ; Sir Thomas assuring us, every fresh bottle, how infinitely soberer he was grown. 29th. — I felt the usual consequences of Sir Thomas's company, and lost a morning, because I had lost the day before. However, having finished Voltaire, I returned to Le Clerc (I mean for the amusc- M 2 l64 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. ment of my leisure hours) ; and laid aside for some time his BihUotheqne Universelle, to look into the BibUnlheqnc C/ioisie, which is by far the better work. September 23d. — Colonel Wilkes, of the Buckinghamshire mi- litia, dined with us, and renewed the acquaintance Sir Thomas and myself had begun with him at Reading. I scarcely ever met with a better companion ; he has inexhaustible spirits, infinite wit and humourj and a great deal of knowledge ; but a thorough profligate in principle as in practice, his life stained with every vice, and his conversation full of blasphemy and indecency. These morals he glories in — for shame is a weakness he has long since surmounted. He told us himself, that in this time of public dissension he was resolved to make his fortune. Upon this noble principle he has connected himself closely with Lord Temple and Mr. Pitt, commenced a public adversary' to Lord Bute, whom he abuses weekly in the North Briton, and other political papers in which he is concerned. This proved a very debauched day ; we drank a good deal both after dinner and supper ; and when at last Wilkes had retired, Sir Thomas and some others (of whom I was not one) broke into his room, and made him drink a bottle of claret in bed. October 5th. — The review, which lasted about three hours, con- cluded as usual, with marching by Lord Effingham, by grand divisions. Upon the whole, considering the camp had done both the Winchester and the Gosport duties ail the summer, they behaved very well, and made a fine appearance. As they marched by, I had my usual curiosity to count their files. The following is my field return : I think it a curiosity ; I am sure it is more exact than is commonly made to a re- viewing general. No. of Files. No. of Men. Establishment. ***-- &£:::■ m »> - ^^^ - ^«« "'■^-. {gSo^' so} »^ - ^«^ - «« c r-1' I f Grenadiers, 201 ,„, „,, .^^ S.Glostcr, |i3^^tt^,ii„„/ ^^j 101 - 312 - 600 K. Glosier, {^'^^'f'^'^ JH 6o - 19.5 - 360 L Battalion, 52 J J- J. f (irenathers, 20 "| ,„^ .,„, ^„^ ^«"^^"^'"-^' 1 Battalion, 88 j ^^*^ - 324 - 800 n-// 7- fCirenadiers, 2-il ,,, ,„„ ^_- n>/ls/urc, JB^jttalion, 120 j ^*^ " ^^^^ _ 800 Total, 607 1821 3600 N. B. The Gosport detachment from the Lancashire consisted of two hundred and fifty men. The Buckinghamshire took the Win- chester duty tiiat day. CHAP. V. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 165 So that this camp, in England, supposed complete, with only one de- tachment, had under arms, on the day of the grand review, little more than lialf their establishment. Tliis amazing deficiency (thongii exem- plified in every regiment I have seen) is an extraordinary military phenomenon ; what must it be upon foreign service ? I doubt whether a nominal army of an hundred thousand men often brings fifty into the field. Upon our return to Southampton in the evening, ,we found Sir Thomas Worsley. October 21st. — One of those impulses, which it is neither very easy nor very necessary to withstand, drew me from Longinus to a very different subject, the Greek Calendar. Last night, when in bed, I was thinking of a dissertation of M. de la Nauze upon the Roman Calendar, which I read last year. This led me to consider what was the Greek> and finding myself very ignorant of it, I determined to read a short, but very excellent absti'act of Mr. Dod well's book de Cyclis, by the famous Dr. Halley. It is only twenty-five pages ; but as I meditated it thoroughly, and verified all the calculations, it was a very good morning's work. 28th. — I looked over a new Greek Lexicon which I had just received from London. It is that of Robert Constantine, Lugdun. 1637.* It is a very large volume in foHo, in two parts, comprising in the whole 1785 pages. After the great Thesaurus, this is esteemed the best Greek Lexicon. It seems to be so. Of a variety of words for which I looked, I always found an exact definition ; the various senses well distinguished, and properly supported, by the best author- ities. However, I still prefer the radical method of Scapula to this alphabetical one. December 1 1th. — I have already given an idea of the Gosport duty. I shall only add a trait which characterises admirably our unthinking sailors. At a time when they knew that they should infaUibly be dis- charged in a few weeks, numbers, who had considerable wages due to them, were continually jumping over the walls, and risking the losing of it for a few hours' amusement at Portsmouth. 17th. — We found old Captain Meard at Alresford, with the second division of the fourteenth. He and all his officers supped with us, and made the evening rather a drunken one. 18th. — About the same hour our two corps paraded to march off. They, an old corps of regulars, who had been two years quiet in Dover castle. We, part of a young body of militia, two thirds of our men recruits, of four months' standing, two of which they had passed upon very disagreeable duty. Every advantage was on their side, and yet * The reputation of Constantine's Lexicon has considerably declined since the days of Gibbon. — M. M 3 166 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. our superiority, both as to appearance and discipline, was so striking, tliat the most prejudiced regular could not have hesitated a moment. At tlie end of the town our two companies separated : my father struck off for Petersfield, whilst I continued my route to Alton ; into which place I marched my company about noon ; two years six months and fifteen days after my first leaving it. I gave the men some beer at roll- calling, which they receivetl witli great cheerfulness and decency. I dined and lay at Harrison's, where I was received with tliat old-fashioned breeding, which is at once so honourable and so troublesome. 23d. — Our two companies were disen)bodied ; mine at Alton, and my father's at Beriton. Smith marched them over from Petersfield : they fired three volleys, lodged the major's colours, delivered up their arms, received their money, partook of a dinner at the major's expense, and then separated with great cheerfulness and regularity. Thus ended the militia ; I may say ended, since our annual assemblies in May are so very precarious, and can be of so little use. However, our Serjeants and drums are still kept np, and quartered at the rendezvous of the company, and the adjutant remains at Southampton in full pay. As this was an extraordinary scene of life, in which I was engaged above three years and a half from the date of my commission, and above two years and a half from the time of our embodying, I cannot take my leave of it without some few reflections. When I engaged in it, I was totally ignorant of its nature and consequences. I offered, because my father did, without ever imagining that we should be called out, till it was too late to retreat with honour. Indeed, I believe it happens throughout, that our most important actions have been often determined by chance, caprice, or some very inade(iuate motive. After our em- bodying, many things contributed to make me sui)port it with great impatience: — our continual disputes with the Dukeof Bolton ; our un- settled way of life, which hardly allowed me books or leisure for study; and, more than all, the disagreeable society in which I was forced to live. After mentioning my sufferings, I must say something of what I found agreeable. Now it is over, I can make the separation much better than I could at the time. I. The unsettled way of life itself had its advantages. The exercise and change of air and of objects amused me, at the same time that it fortified my healtii. 2. A new field of knowledge and amusement opened itself to me ; that of military affairs, •which, both in my studies and travels, M'ill give me eyes for a new world of things, which before would have [)assed unheeded. Indeed, in that respect, I can hardly help wishing our battalion had continued another year. We had got a fine set of new men; all our difficulties were over; we were perfectly well clothed and appointed ; and, from the progress our recruits had already made, we could promise ourselves that we should be one of the best militia corps by next summer : a circum- CHAP. V. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 167 stance that would have been the more agreeable to me, as I am now established the real acting major of the battalion. But what I value most is the knowledge it has given me of mankind in general, and of my own country in particular. The general system of our government, the methods of our several offices, the departments and powers of their respective officers, our provincial and municipal administration, the views of our several parties, the characters, connections, and influence of our principal people, have been impressed on my mind, not by vain theory, but by the indelible lessons of action and experience. I have made a number of valuable acquaintance, and am m\self much better known than (with my reserved character) I should have been in ten years, passing regularly my summers at Beriton, and my winters in London. So that the sum of all is, that I am glad the militia has been, and glad that it is no more. No 4. page 153. Journal, May 8th, 1762, — This was my birthday, on which I entered into the twenty-sixth year of my age. This gave me occa- sion to look a little into myself, and consider impartially my good and bad qualities. It appeared to me, upon this inquiry, that my character was virtuous, incapable of a base action, and formed for generous ones ; but that it was proud, violent, and disagreeable in society. These qualities I must endeavour to cultivate, extirpate, or restrain, according to their different tendency. Wit I have none. My imagination is rather strong than pleasing. My memory both capacious and retentive. The shining qualities of my understanding are extensiveness and pene- tration ; but I want both quickness and exactness. As to my situation in life, though I may sometimes repine at it, it perhaps is the best adapted to my character. I can command all the conveniences of life, and I can command too that independence (that first earthly bless- ing) which is hardly to be met with in a higher or lower fortune. When I talk of my situation, I must exclude that temporary one, of being in the militia. Though I go through it with spirit and applica- tion, it is both unfit for, and unworthy of me. No. 3. page 160. Journal, July •27th, 1762. — The reflections which I was making yesterday I continued and digested to-day. I don't absolutely look on that time as lost, but that it might have been better employed than in revolving schemes, the execution of which is so far distant. I must learn to check these wanderings of my imagination. Nov. 24'. — I dined at the Cocoa Tree with Holt ; who, under a great appearance of oddity, conceals more real honour, good sense, and even M 4 l68 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. knowledge, than half those who laugh at him. \Ye went thence to the play (the Spanish Friar); and when it was over, returned to the Cocoa Tree. That respectable body, of which I have the honour of being a member, affords every evening a sight truly English. Twenty or thirty, perhaps, of the first men in the kingdom, in point of fashion and fortune, supping at little tables covered with a napkin, in the middle of a cofter-room, upon a bit of cold meat, or a sandwich, and drinking a glass of punch. At present, we arc full of king's counsellors and lords of the bed-chamber ; who, having jumped into the ministry, make a very singular medley of their old principles and language, with their modern ones. Nov. 26. — I went with Mallet to breakfast with Garrick ; and thence to Drury-lane house, where I assisted at a very private rehearsal, in the Green-room, of a new tragedy of Mallet's, called Elvira. As I have since seen it acted, I shall defer my opinion of it till then ; but I cannot help mentioning here the surprising versatility of INIrs. Pritchard's talents, who rehearsed almost at the same time the part of a furious queen in the Green-room, and that of a coquette on the stage ; and passed several times from one to the other with the utmost ease and happiness. Dec. 30. — Before I close the year I must balance my accounts — not of money but of time. I may divide my studies into four branches : 1. Books that I have read for themselves, classic writers, or capital treatises upon any science ; such books as ought to be perused with attention, and meditated with care. Of these I read the tiventij last books of the Iliad twice, the three first books of the Odyssey, the Life of Homer, and Longinus irepi Y^ot'c. 2. Books which I have read, or consulted, to illustrate the former. Such as this year, Jilackweirs Inquiry info the Life and Writings of Homer, Burkc^s Sublime and Beautiful, Hurd's Horace, GuichardCs Mcmoires JMilitaires, a great variety of passages of the ancients occasionally useful ; large extracts from Mezeriac, Bayle, and Potter ; and many memoirs and abstracts from the Academy of Belles Lettres : among these I shall only mention here two long and curious suites of dissertations — the one iqjon the Temple of Delphi, the Amphictyonic Council, and the Holy Wars, by MM. Hardion and de Valois ; the other i(po7i the Games of the Grecians, by MAI. Burette Gedoyne, and de la Barre. 3. Books of amusement and instruction, perused at my leisure hours, without any reference to a regular j)lan of study. Of these, perhaps, I read too many, since I went through the Life of Erasmus, by le Clcrc and Burigny, many extracts from Le Clerc's BibUothaiues, The Ciceronianus, and Colloquies of Erasmus, Barclay^s Argenis, Terassoti's Scihos, Voltaire''s Sivcle de Louis XIV., Madame de Mutteville's Mcmoires, and Fontenelle's Works. 4. Com- positions of my own. I find hardly any, except this .Journal and the Extract of Hurd's Horace, which (like a chapter of Montaigne) contains many things very different from its title. To these four heads CHAP. V. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. l69 I must this year add a fifth. 5. Those treatises of English history which I read in January, with a view to my now abortive scheme of the Life of Sir Walter Raleigh. I ought indeed to have known my own mind better before I undertook them. Upon the whole, after making proper allowances, I am not dissatisfied with the year. The three weeks which I passed at Beriton, at the end of this and the beginning of the ensuing year, are almost a blank. I seldom went out ; and as the scheme of my travelling Avas at last entirely settled, the hurry of impatience, the cares of preparations, and the tenderness of friends I was going to quit, allowed me hardly any moments for study. 170 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VI. CHAP. VI. M?'. Gibbon sees Mallet's Elvira j^erformed. — Cliaracter of that Play. — Passes some time at Paris, gives an Account of the Persons tvith 7vho7n he chiefly associated ; proceeds, through Dijon and Besayifon, to Lausanne. — Charac- terises a Society there, called La Societe dii Printems. — Becomes acquainted with Mr. Holroyd, now Lord Sheffield. — Remarhs on their Meeting. — Some Account of Mr. Gibbons Studies at Lausanne, preparatory to his Italian Journey. — He travels into Italy; his Feelings and Ob- servations upon his Arrival at Home. — He returns to England. The youthful habits of the language and manners of France had left in my mind an ardent desire of revisiting the continent on a larger and more liberal plan. According to the law of custom, and perhaps of reason, foreign travel completes the education of an English gentleman : my father had consented to my wish, but I was detained above four years by my rash engagement in the militia. I eagerly gras])ed the first moments of freedom : three or four weeks in Hampshire and London were em- ployed in the preparations of my journey, and the farewell visits of friendship and civihty : my last act in town was to ap})laud Mallei's new tragedy of Elvira(l); a post-chaise conveyed me to Dover, the })acket to Boulogne, and such was my diligence, that I reached Paris on the 28th of January 17(i3, CHAP. VI. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. l?! only thirty-six days after the disbanding of the mi- litia. Two or three years were loosely defined for the term of my absence ; and I was left at liberty to spend that time in such places and in such a manner as was most agreeable to my taste and judgment. In this first visit I passed three months and a half (January 28th — May 9th), and a much longer space might have been agreeably filled, without any intercourse with the natives. At home we are content to move in the daily round of pleasure and business ; and a scene which is always present is supposed to be within our knowledge, or at least within our power. But in a foreign country, cu- riosity is our business and our pleasure ; and the traveller, conscious of his ignorance, and covetous of his time, is diligent in the search and the view of every object that can deserve his attention. I devoted many hours of the morning to the circuit of Paris and the neighbourhood, to the visit of churches and palaces conspicuous by their archi- tecture, to the royal manufactures, collections of books and pictures, and all the various treasures of art, of learning, and of luxury. An Englishman may hear without reluctance, that in these curious and costly articles Paris is superior to London ; since the opulence of the French capital arises from the defects of its government and religion. In the absence of Louis XIV. and his successors, the Louvre has been left unfinished : but the millions which have been lavished on the sands of Versailles, and the morass of Marli, could not be supplied by the legal allowance of a British king. 172 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VI. The s])lcndoiir of the Frencli nobles is confined to then' town residence ; that of tlie English is more nsefully distributed in their country seats ; and we should be astonished at our own riches, if the labours of arcliitecture, the spoils of Italy and Greece, which are now scattered from Inverary to Wilton, were accumulated in a few streets between Marylebone and Westminster. All superfluous ornament is rejected by the cold frugality of the protestants ; but the catholic superstition, which is always the enemy of reason, is often the parent of the arts. The wealthy communities of priests and monks expend their revenues in stately edifices ; and the parish church of St. Sulpice, one of the noblest structures in Paris, was built and adorned by tlie private industry of a late cure. In this outset, and still more in the sequel of my tour, my eye was amused ; but the pleasing vision cannot be fixed by the pen ; the particular images are darkly seen through the medium of five-and-twenty years, and the narrative of my life must not degenerate into a book Of travels. (2) But the principal end of my journey was to enjoy the society of a polished and amiable people, in whose favour I was strongly ])rejudiced, and to converse with some authors, whose conversation, as I fondly imagined, must be far more pleasing and instructive than their writings. The moment was happily chosen. At the close of a successful war the British name was respected on the con- tinent : Clarum et vcncrabilc nomeii Gentibus. CHAP. VI. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 17^ Our opinions, our fashions, even our games, were ado})ted in France ; a ray of national glory illumi- nated each individual, and every Englishman was supposed to be born a patriot and a philosopher. For myself, I carried a personal recommendation j my name and my Essay were already kpown ; the compliment of having written in the French lan- guage entitled me to some returns of civility and gratitude. I was considered as a man of letters, who wrote for amusement. Before my departure I had obtained from the Duke de Nivernois, Lady Hervey, the Mallets, Mr. Walpole, &c. many letters of recommendation to their private or lite- rary friends. Of these epistles the reception and success were determined by the character and situ- ation of the persons by whom and to whom they were addressed : the seed was sometimes cast on a barren rock, and it sometimes multiplied an hun- dred fold in the production of new shoots, spreading branches, and exquisite fruit. But upon the whole, I had reason to praise the national urbanity, which from the court has diffused its gentle influence to the shop, the cottage, and the schools. Of tlie men of genius of the age, Montesquieu and Fon- tenelle were no more ; Voltaire resided on his own estate near Geneva ; Rousseau in the prece- ding year had been driven from his hermitage of Montmorency j and I blush at my having ne- glected to seek, in this journey, the acquaintance of Buffon. Among the men of letters whom I saw, d'Alembert and Diderot held the foremost rank in merit, or at least in fame. I shall con- tent myself with enumerating the well-known 174^ BIEMOIRS OF CHAP. VI. names of the Count de Caylus, of the Abbe de la BleteriejE'^^i'tlielemy, Reynal, Arnaiid, of Messieurs de la Condamine, dii Clos, de S'" Palaye, de Bou- gainville, Caperonnier, de Guignes, Suard (3), &c., without attempting to discriminate the shades of their characters, or the degrees of our connection. Alone, in a morning visit, I commonly found the artists and authors of Paris less vain, and more reasonable, than in the circles of their equals, with whom they mingle in the houses of the rich. Four days in a week I had a place, without invitation, at the hospitable tables of Mesdames Geoilrin anddu Bocage, of the celebrated Helvetius (4), and of the Baron d'Olbach. In these symposia the pleasures of the table were improved by lively and liberal conversation ; the company was select, though va- rious and voluntary.(5) The society of Madame du Bocage * was more soft and moderate than that of her rivals, and the evening conversations of M. de Foncemagne were supported by the good sense and learning of the principal members of the Academy of Inscriptions. The opera and the Italians I occasionally visited ; but the French theatre, both in tragedy and comedy, was my daily and favourite amusement. Two famous actresses then divided the public ap})lause. For my own part, I preferred the consummate art of the Clairon to the intemperate sallies of the Dumesnil, which were extolled by her admirers, as the genuine voice of nature and passion. Four- * Madame du Bocage was the Colombiade," not without some authoress of a poem called " La pretty and fanciful verses. — M. CHAP. VI. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. V^S teen weeks insensibly stole away ; but had I been rich and independent, I shoidd have prolonged, and perhaps have fixed, my residence at Paris, Between the expensive style of Paris and of Italy it was prudent to interpose some months of tranquil simplicity, and at the thoughts of Lau- sanne I again lived in the pleasures and studies of my early youth. Shaping my course through Dijon and Besan9on, in the last of which places I was kindly entertained by my cousin Acton, I arrived in the month of May, 1763, on the banks of the Leman Lake. It had been my intention to pass the Alps in the autumn; but such are the simple attractions of the place, that the year had almost expired before my departure from Lausanne in the ensuing spring. An absence of five years had not made much alteration in manners, or even in per- sons. My old friends, of both sexes, hailed my voluntary return; the most genuine proof of my at- tachment. They had been flattered by the present of my book, the produce of their soil ; and the good Pavilliard shed tears of joy as he embraced a pupil, whose literary merit he might fairly impute to his own labours. (6) To my old list I added some new acquaintance, and among the strangers I shall dis- tinguish Prince Lewis of Wirtemberg, the brother of the reigning duke, at whose country-house, near Lausanne, I frequently dined : a wandering meteor, and at length a falling star, his light and ambitious spirit had successively dropped from the firmament of Prussia, of France, and of Austria ; and his faults, which he styled his misfortunes, had driven him into philosophic exile in the Pays de lyG MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VI. Vaud. He could now moralise on the vanity of the world, the equality of mankind, and the hap- piness of a private station. His address was affable and polite, and as he had shone in courts and armies, his memory could supply, and his eloquence could adorn, a copious fund of interesting anecdotes. His first enthusiasm was that of charity and agriculture; but the sage gradually lapsed in the saint, and Prince Lewis of Wirtemberg is now buried in a her- mitage near Mayence, in the last stage of mystic de- votion. (7) By some ecclesiastical quarrel, Voltaire had been provoked to withdraw himself from Lau- sanne, and retire to his castle at Ferney, where I again visited the poet and the actor, without seek- ing his more intimate acquaintance, to which I might now have pleaded a better title. But the theatre which he had founded, the actors whom he had formed, survived the loss of their master ; and recent from Paris, I attended with pleasure at the representation of several tragedies and comedies. I shall not descend to specify particular names and characters ; but I cannot forget a private institu- tion, which will display the innocent freedom of Swiss manners. My favourite society had assumed, from the age of its members, the proud denomina- tion of the spring (la societe du printem.s'). It con- sisted of fifteen or twenty young unmarried ladies, of genteel though not of the very first families ; the eldest perhaps about twenty ; all agreeable, several handsome, and two or three of exquisite beauty. At each other's houses they assembled almost every day, without the control, or even the presence, of a mother or an aunt ; they were trusted to their own prudence, among a crowd of young men of every CHAP. VI. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 177 nation in Europe. They laughed, they sung, they danced, tliey played at cards, they acted comedies ; but in the midst of this careless gaiety, they re- spected tliemselves, and were respected by the menj the invisible line between liberty and licentiousness was never transgressed by a gesture, a word, or a look, and their virgin chastity was never sullied by the breath of scandal or suspicion : a singular in- stitution, expressive of the innocent simplicity of Swiss manners. After having tasted the luxury of England and Paris, I could not have returned with satisfaction to the coarse and homely table of Ma- dame Pavilliard ; nor was her husband offended that I now entered myself as a pensionnaire, or boarder, in the elegant house of Mr. de Mesery, which may be entitled to a short remembrance, as it has stood above twenty years, perhaps, without a parallel in Europe. The house in w'hicli we lodged was spacious and convenient, in the best street, and commanding from behind, a noble pro- spect over the country and the Lake. Our table was served with neatness and plenty ; the boarders were select ; we had the liberty of inviting any guests at a stated price ; and in the summer the scene was occasionally transferred to a pleasant villa, about a league from Lausanne. The characters of master and mistress were happily suited to each other, and to their situation. At the age of seventy- five, Madame de Mesery, who has survived her husband, is still a graceful, I had almost said a handsome woman. She was alike qualified to pre- side in her kitchen and her drawing-room ; and such was the equal propriety of her conduct, that of two N 178 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VI. or three luindrcd foreigners, none ever failed in respect, none could complain of her neglect, and none could ever boast of her favour. Mesery him- self, of the noble family of De Crousaz, was a man of the world, a jovial companion, whose easy man- ners and natural sallies maintained the cheerfulness of his Jiouse. His wit could laugh at his own ignorance : he disguised, by an air of profusion, a strict attention to his interest; and in this situ- ation, he appeared like a nobleman who spent his fortune and entertained his friends. In this agree- able society I resided nearly eleven months (May 17(^3 — April, 1764); and in this second visit toLau- sanne, among a crowd of my English companions, I knew and esteemed Mr. Ilolroyd (now Lord Shef- field); and our mutual attachment was renewed and fortified in the subsequent stages of our Italian journey. Our lives are in the power of chance, and a slight variation on either side, in time or place, might have deprived me of a friend, whose activity in the ardour of youth was always prompted by a benevolent heart, and directed by a strong under- standing. (8) If my studies at Paris liad been confined to the study of the world, tliree or four jnouths would not have been unprofitably spent. My visits, how- ever superficial, to the Academy of Medals and the public libraries, opened a new field of enquiry ; and the view of so many manuscripts of dificrent ages and characters induced me to consult the two great Benedictine works, the Diplomatica of Ma- billon, and the PaJcrograplua of Montfiiucon. I studied the theory without attaining the practice of CHAP. VI. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 179 the art : nor should I complain of the intricacy of Greek abbreviations and Gothic al])habets, since every day, in a familiar language, I am at a loss to decy{)her the hieroglyphics of a female note. In a tranquil scene, which revived the memory of my first studies, idleness would have been less par- donable : the public libraries of Lausanne and Ge- neva liberally supplied me with books ; and if many hours were lost in dissipation, many more were em- ployed in literary labour. ' In the country, Horace and Virgil, Juvenal and Ovid, were my assiduous companions: but, in town, I formed and executed a plan of study for the use of my Transalpine expe- dition : the topography of old Home, the ancient geography of Italy, and the science of medals. 1. I diligently read, almost always with a pen in my hand, the elaborate treatises of Nardini, Dona- tus, &c. which fill the fourth volume of the Roman Antiquities of Graevius. 2. I next undertook and finished the Italia Antiqua of Cluverius, a learned native of Prussia, who had measured, on foot, every spot, and has compiled and digested every passage of the ancient writers. These passages in Greek or Latin authors I perused in the text of Cluverius, in two folio volumes : but I separately read the de- scriptions of Italy by Strabo, Pliny, and Pomponius Mela, the Catalogues of the Epic poets, the Itine- raries of Wesseling's Antoninus, and the coasting Voyage of Rutilius Numatianus ; and I studied two kindred subjects in the Mesures Itineraires of d' Anville, and the copious work of Bergier, Histoire des grands Chemins de V Empire Itomain. From N 2 180 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VI. these materials I formed a table of roads and dis- tances reduced to our English measure ; filled a foHo common-place book with my collections and remarks on the geography of Italy ; and inserted in my journal many long and learned notes on the insukt and popiilousness of Rome, the social war, the passage of the Alps by Hannibal, &c. 3. After glancing my eye over Addison's agreeable dia- logues, I more seriously read the great work of Ezechiel Spanheim, de Prcpdantid et Um Numis- mafum, and applied with him the medals of the kings and emperors, the families and colonies, to the illustration of ancient history. And thus was I armed for my Italian journey.(9) I shall advance with rapid brevity in the narrative of this tour, in which somewhat more than a year (April, 1765 — May, 17s de deux milles dans cinq minutes, Le grand diable est arrive le second, et presqu'au meme instant que le premier, A ne considerer que la vitesse des chevaux, nos courses I'emportent infiniment sur celle-ci. Cependant I'antiquite de I'institution, I'ardeur d'un peuple entier, qui y assiste, I'intervention du prince, et meme de la religion, lui donnent un air bien plus niajestueux. On voit que les Florentins cherissent cet usage comme le seul vestige de leur liberie ancienne; c'est une fureur momentanee qui s'empare de tons les esprits, et depuis les jeux des anciens, c'est peut-etre le seul spectacle des plaisirs de tout un etat reuni pour s'amuser par les soins, et sous les yeux de ses magistrats. Note 13. page 181. Juillet 16"^.] — Nous avons fait notre VIII""' visile a la Galerie, &c. &c. &c. Je vais parler de ses meubles qui ne consistent qu'en statues, et en bustes antiques, places alternativement, de maniere qu'il se trouve toujours une statue et deux bustes. Ces derniers sont peut- etre le tresor le plus precieux de la galerie, puisqu'ils contiennent la suite complette de tous les empereurs depuis Auguste et Jules Cesar jusqu'a Caracalle, sans compter plusieurs des successeurs de celui-ci ; beaucoup d'imperatrices, et des bustes qu'on a assignes a des philo- sophes et des poetes Grecs, sur la foi des descriptions vagues et ob- scures que les anciens nous ont laisse de leurs personnes, C'est un plaisir bien vif que de suivre les progres, et la decadence des arts, et de parcourir cette suite des portraits originaux des niaitres du monde. On y voit bien plus distinctement leurs traits que sur leurs medailles, dont le champ est trop petit. Je conviens que ce n'est qu'a I'aide des medailles que nous les reconnoissions ici. C'est pourquoi j'aurois voulu qu'on eut pratique dans le piedestal de chaque buste, un petit tiroir rempli de ces medailles. Les curieux auroient trouve beaucoup d'agrement a les comparer. A tout ce nicrite accessoire il y a beau- coup de ces bustes qui ajoutent encore celui du travail. Sans vouloir les passer tous en revue comme I'a fait Cochin, je marquerai ceux qui 204 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. ni'ont arrcte par quelque cndroit. \. Jules Cesnr. II est singulier. Tons ses traits sont contractes, et I'air clu visage porte Ics caracttres les plus frap[)ans de la vieillesse et de la cadiicite. On coniprend a peine que ce soit le bustc d'un honinie n'.ort a I'age cin(juantc-six ans. Je n'ai pas pu remarquer sa tete chaiivc, qiioiqiie le front soit un peu dc'garni des chevciix, non plus que la couronne de laurier, sous laquelle ce heros caclioit un detaut dont il avoit la fbiblesse de rougir. 11 est vrai (jue la phipart des tetes d'hommes de cette suite, sont sans aucun orneiiient. 2. Ciceron. Un long cou, un visage un peu niaigre, beaucoup de rides, un teint un peu jaunatre, qui vient de la cou 1 ear du marbre, tout annonce ici la force et les travaux de I'esprit plutot que du corps. II est d'une verite ct d'unc finesse extraordinaire, Le sculptcur a marque un pois sur la joue gauche; comme il est joliment fait, il n'est qu'un agrement qui scrt d'ailleurs a le dis- tinguer : mais quoique le nom fut hereditaire, la marque (Cicer) ne I'etoit pas. 3. Agrippa. C'est bicn le contraste de Ciceron, quoic]u'il soit peut-etre aussi beau dans son genre. II est d'une nia- niere grande et bardie. Un visage large et quarre, des traits saiilans et marques ; des yeux grands, mais excessivement enfonces dans la tete ; des clieveux qui couvrent la moitie du front ; tout y reveille I'idee de la force ct de la vigueur, et presente un ensemble plutot terrible qu'agreable. On I'a place parmi les cmpereurs que cet honinie nouveau a mis sur le trone du monde. 4. S(i])pho. La sculpture etoit trop imparfaite au G™* siecle avant Jesus Christ pour nous permettre de regarder la tete de cette femme celebre comme une originale. Je le croirois encore moins, puisque Sappho, qui brilloit plutot par I'esprit que par la beaute, n'avoit certainement pas ce beau visage ovale, quoiqu'un peu arrondi p;ir rembon])oiut cpie le sculpteur lui a donne ici. Ce inorceau est d'une grande beaute. o. Caligula. Ce buste, qui est d'une execution libre et bardie, acquiert un nouveau prix par la ressemblance parfaite et exactc qu'il a avec les medailles de ce tyran. Pour un honnne mort dans sa trentieme annde, ses traits sont ex- tremement formes. 6. Neron. II y a beaucoup d'expression, mais d'une expression un peu confuse. Dois-je le dire, et le dire ici ? Neron ne m'a jamais revoke autant que Tibere, Caligula, ou Domitien. II avoit beaucoup de vices, mais il n'etoit pas sans vertus. Je vois dans son histoire peu de traits d'une niechanccte etudice. II etoit cruel, mais il I'etoit plutot par crainte que par gout. 7. Scnapie. Morceau tres eslime et digne de I'etre. Sa peau decharnee paroit ne couvrir que des OS et des muscles, qui sont reudues avec une grande verite : ses veines sont des tiiyaux fjui semblcnt vuides de sang. Tons les ca- racttres du buste annoncent un vicillard, et peut-etrc un vieillard expirant. 8. Gnlha. Buste forte beau. 9. Olho. II n'a d'autre nierite que celui de sa rarete. Je suis surpris qu'il s'en trouve. Mille accidens peuvent faire enterrer ct conserverdes monnoies ; mais comment s'est- il trouve (luehju'un (jui ait voulu ristjuer de garder le bustc odieux dc ce CHAP. VI. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 205 fantome d'enipereur ? A la verite le regne de son ennemi VitelHus passa presqu' aussi vite. 10. VileUins. La tete de ce gourmand et bete stupide est chargee de cliair. II est singulier que les monumens de cet empercur aussi ne soient pas plus rares, Je i)ense que Vespasien le nieprisa trop pour les dctruire. 11. Vcsjjasicti. Si la nature doit etre le module des sculpteurs cette tete est d'luie beaute mcrvcillcuse. Rien n'est [)lus nuturelle (juo les contours, rien n'est plus gracieux que I'air, a la fois gai, trauquille et majestueux. C'est vr/iiment un visage humain, et quoiqu'il soit plutot laid que beau, il est bon et interessant. Je suis persuadd que la ressemblance etoit frappante. 12. Berenice- La coeffure de cette reine est en boucles frisees tres-artistement, mais disposees avec une apparence de negligence. Si elle n'etoit pas plus belle qu'elle n'est representee ici, on a peine a comprendre la passion de Titus. 13. Domilia. La maniere dont ses clieveux sont ramasses sur le front en beaucoup de petites boucles detachees, leur donne assez, selon Cochin, I'air d'une eponge. Nous nous sommes arretes aux Douze Cesars, division qui est occasionee par Suetone plutot que par la raison. Les six Cesars auroient ete plus naturels. j-j-me-j — Nous avons fait noire I X"'\ visite a la Galerie. Voici la suite des bustes que nous avons reprise. 14. Trajan. Buste facile et naturel. Je vois sur la physionomie un soiirire moqueur assez singulier. La tete est extremement tournee de cote : mais en general je ne me rappelle pas un seul buste dont la tete soit laissee dans son attitude reguliere. Les sculpteurs auront cru avec raison qu'un petit ecart de la iigne droite tracee par la nature donnoit plus de grace et d ame a leurs figures. 15. Hadrien. Ce buste est tres beau. On voit, selon le temoignage des historiens, que ce prince a commence le premier a laisser croitre sa barbe. II la coupoit cependant de terns en terns, et ne se piquoit point d'avoir cette loiigue barbe pendante, et bien nourrie, qui faisoit I'orgueil des pliilosophes de ce siecle. A I'egard des cheveux, les premiers empereurs les avoient portes courts, frises avec fort peu de soin, et tombant sur le front. Sur le buste d'Othon on distingue tres bien la perruque frisee en grosses boucles par devant dont ce prince fut I'inventeur. Tout ceci ne regarde que les empereurs. Seneque, qui affichoit la pliilosophie, a beaucoup de cheveux, et de barbe. 16. Aidiiwus. Le buste de ce mignon d'lladrien est tres beau. Le visage est tres bien forme, d'un melange de force et de douceur. Les epaules, la poitrine, et les niammelles, sont traitees avec beaucoup de mollesse. Le plus 1)l>1 embonpoint ne detruit point ici les graces du contour. Ce buste, i)lus grand que nature, est entierement antique, circonstance rare et prescju' uni(|ue. Tout au plus a-t-on la tete antique, souvent il en a fallu restaurer une partie, et le nez a presque toujours ete casse. C'est a Antinous seulement que les yeux des bustes com- menccnt a avoir des prunelles; encore les siens sont-ils a peine per- ceptibles. On ne sauroit concevoir jusqu'a quel point la prunelle rem! la vie et I'expression a tout, et anime tons les traits. II etoit juste 206 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. fiu'im pareil secours appuyat la sculpture quand elle touchoit au nionicnt de sa decadence. 17. Antonin Ic Dcbonnaire. II est plein de verite et d'expression, surtout la partic superieure du visage, le front, et les yeux. Antonin ajouta ;i la barbe de petites moustaches frisees. 18. M.Aurelc. II y en a trois. Celui qui le reprcsente jeune, est le nieilleur. On pent remarquer dans toute cette faniille la meme maniere de sculpture; c'cst-a-dire plus de beautes de detail, avec un ensemble moiiis trappant. 19. Annius Vcrus. C'est un jeune enfant, qui est vraimcnt un chef-d'oeuvre. Un petit visage rond, ou brillent toutes les graces de la joie, et de I'innocence. On ne peut se lasser de le regarder. 20. Uii bustc beaucoiqj jilus grand que la nature. C'est un visage assez jeune, quoique tres forme ; fort beau, mais qui teve les yeux au ciel avec la plus belle et la plus forte expression, de la douleur et.de I'in- dignation. On dit que c'est Alexandre pret a expirer. Si la conjecture est un peu averee on pourroit se flatter de posseder un morceau unique de la main de Lysippe, le seul sculpteur ji qui Alexandre pcrmettoit de le tailler en marbre. II n'y a ricn dans ce chcf-d'ceuvrc de noblesse, de simplicitc, et d'expression, qui demente le siecle d'Alexandre, ou I'idce qu'on peut se former de Lysippe. 21. Pcrtinax. II me paroit beau. 22. Clocims Albimis. 11 est d'albatre; a ce merite, et celui d'un bon travail, il ajoute celui de la plus grande rarete. Quand on se rappelle que son ombre de royaute, a ete suivi d'un regne de vingt ans d'un enemi implacable et cruel, on con^oit bien les raisons de cette rarete. 23. Septimc Severe. II est bon, maig j'aime mieux la maniere que r execution de cebuste. 24. Geta. Celui qui le reprcsente enfant, est fort joli, mais il y paroit plus forme que I'Annius Verus. 25. Caracalle. Bon, mais il me paroit un peu sec. C'est ici que la sculpture Romaine est tombee dans le meme tems que I'architecture, avec qui elle a peut-etre encore plus de rapports qu'avec la peinture. Je pense que ces derniers morceaux sont des artistes qui restoient encore du siecle d'or dcs Antonins, et qui ne formercnt [)oint d'eleves dans le siecle de fer des Severes, sous qui le gouvernement devint vraimcnt niilitaire, et despoti(jue. Les bustes qui sont les moins mauvais dans la suite, sont, 2G. Gallien, et 27. Eliogabale. Le total des bustes des corridors est de quatre vingt douze. Florence, Juillet 29.] — Toute la nation dina chez M. Mann. Apres diner nous allames voir une course de chevaux. Le Gran Diavolo a rcmporte le prix. C'est un vieux Anglois qui a vingt deux a vingt trois ans, a qui on n'est point encore en etat de dire solve scncscentem cquum. Ses victoires, qui sont presqu' aussi frequentes que ses combats, out engage un prince a oftiir derniercmcut 1000 sequins a son maitre le Chevalier Alessandri, qui les a refuses. .31.] — Lord Palmerston et L. ont dineavec nous. C'est un singulicr contrastc que ces deux jeunes gens. L'un, pose, tranquille, un peu froitl, possede des qualites du cceur, et de I'esprit, qui le font estimer partout, et Ton voit qu'il a mis I'attention la plus serieuse a les cultivcr. CHAP. VI. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. SO/ L. est en tout d'une inipetiiosite, qui ne connoit point de homes ; d'une vanite qui lui fait recliercher sans I'obtcnir rapplaudissenicnt de ceux pour qui son orgueil ne lui inspire que du niepris ; et d'une ambition foUe qui ne sert qu'a le rendre ridicule, sans etre accompagnee de cette Constance qui pent seule la faire reussir; un air de philosopliie sans beaucoup de logiquc, et une affectation de savoir, soutenue par une lecture vague et superficiclle. Voilii cette honinie extraordinaire qui s'attire partout la haine, ou la pitic. Je lui trouve cependant un f'onds de genie naturel tres au-dessus de son rival. Mais ici il sera tout aussi difficile de retrancher qu'a ajouter. Je vols ([u'il nie goute beaucoup ; peu-a-peu sans le savoir nous nous somnies trouves extrcmement lies. Avec lui il n'y a point de milieu entre une declaration de guerre, et I'alliance la plus intime. Note 14. page 182. Journal, Florence, Aout 9"^. 1764.] — Cocchi a dine avec nous. Nous avons beaucoup cause, niais je ne lui trouve pas le genie qu'on lui attribue, c'est peut-etre parceque les notres ne sont pas analogues. J'entrevois de I'extravagance dans ces idees, de I'affectation dans ses manieres. II se plaint a tout moment de sa pauvrete. 11 connoit peu la veritable dignite d'un houmie de lettres. S'il a beaucoup de science, elle est bornee a la physique. II m'a demande si Lord Spenser ne pouvoit pas faire des eveques, et m'a fait un conte de Lord Lyttelton (dont il ne pent souffrir le fils) ou il etoit question des Parlemens de Campagne. Le soir nous avons suivi le Chevalier Mann a trois assemblees chez la Comtesse de Gallo, chez la Marquise Gerini, et chez le Due Strozzi. Cette succession rapide pent seule m'empecher de m'ennuyer. Je ne parle point la langue du pays. J'ignore leurs jeux. Les femmes sont occupees de leurs Cicisbees, et les hommes paroissent d'une indifference extreme. Florence, Aout 16.] — J'avois oublie de marquer vers le milieu de Juillet, que le Cardinal Stuart a passe a Florence pour aller j\ Pise. C'est dans le Palais Corsini qu'il a loge. Nous I'avons vu un instant a la Galerie, ou il ne s'est arrete qu'une demie-heure. C'est un homme d'une petite mine, et qui a I'air beaucoup plus vieux qu'il ne Test en effet. On le dit bon homme, mais excessivement bigot, et sous le gouvernement des Jesuites. Un certain Abbe Nicolini, fameux bel esprit, et tyran de la Crusca et bavard impitoyable, lui a fait son cour, et I'a accompagne partout avec autant de soin qu'il avoit suivi le Due de York. II est fallu de fort peu que ces deux Sosies ne se soient rencontres aux Bains de Pise. 17.] — Les deux MM. Darner, fils de Lord Milton, et petits-fils du Due de Dorset, sont arrives. lis sont tons les deux fort jeunes, mais sans gouverneur. C'est une mode qui commence ii passer. Le gou- verneur est toujours a charge, et rarement utile ; et quant a la de- 208 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. pense il liil seroit ilifTicilc d'cpargncr ;\ son clevc le quart de ses propres lionoraires. 18.] — Nous sonimcs alios avec I'Abbe Pilori [)oiir voir la Biblio- tlioquL' ISIagliabecchiana, trcsor amasse par ce fameiix bibliothccaire dcs grands Dues, qu'ils ont dcpuis rendu publiquc. EUc consiste en 40 a 50 niillc volumes, rasseniblcs dans un asscz beau vase. 11 est singulier qu'un particulier d'une fortune des plus mediocres ait pu rassenibler lui tresor digne des plus grands princes. Mais que ne pouvoit une vie tres longue dont tous les momcns n'avoient qu'un objet unique ? Magliabecchi etoit, pour parler ainsi, la Memoire personalise : un esprit (]ui nc pouvoit jamais travailler de lui-meme, mais qui auroit ete un Indice parlant des plus utiles ii un homme de genie, occupe de quelque branche de litterature. J'ai vu dans cette bibliotheque une preuve combien la vie cntiere de cet iiomnie etoit consacree aux sciences. C'est son commerce cpistolaire qui remplit centaines de volumes. On y lit les noms les plus celebres de I'Europe, et le nombre entier des corrcspondans monte a plus de trois niille deux cens. Je sens qu'ils n'ont pas ete contemporains, mais il y a encore de quoi remplir tous les instans d'une vie ordinaire. Les Reponses de Magliabecchi sont en tres petit nombre. On comprend facilement qu'il n"en pouvoit pas conserver beaucoup de copies ; mais on ne soutient point une telle correspondance sans en remplir exactement les devoirs. Peut-etre (ju'im habile homme pourroit faire dans ce repertoire immense un clioix jiidicieux (jui cnricberoit I'histoire litteraire du siecle passe. La bibliotluHjue est plutot utile que curieuse. Elle se distingue bien plus j)ar les livres imprimcs, que par les MSS. qui sont presque tous a .St. Laurent. II y a cependant un beau Rccueil des Mathematiciens Grecs, dont il y en a plusieurs (jui n'ont jamais ete publics ; une col- lection nombreuse des premieres editions du quinzicme siecle, et un livre imprime a Venise dans le seizieme, qui est tres precieux par sa rarete et par son sujet. C'est la Collection des Lois du Royaume de .Jerusalem, qui sont passees dans le Royaume de Chypre sous la Maison de Lusignan, et qui paroissent s'y etre conservees sous le gouvernement des Venetiens. Ce livre est en Italien, et ne pcut etre par consequent qn'une traduction. J'y ai vu la confirmation d'une circonstance racontee par tous les historiens, que Godefroi de Bouillon n'avoit jamais voulu se faire couronner pour ne pas porter une couronne d'or, dans les lieux menie ou son Dieu en avoit porte une d'epines. Ce livre a ete ignore de tous les savans. On croit meme (jue Mu- ratori ne le connoissoit pas. II pourroit servir |)our I'histoire des (Jroisades. De la nous sonimes alles a I'cglisc de Santa Croce. L'ar- chitccture n'a rien de considerable pour rarchitecturc : mais ce n'a pas ete sans un respect secret que j'ai considere les tombeaux de Galilee, et de Michel Ange, du restaurateur des arts, et de celui de la philo- sophie : genies vraiment puissans et originaux. lis ont illustre leur patrie mieux que les contiuerans et les politiques. Les Tartares ont CHAP. VI. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 209 eu un Jengliiz Khan, et les Goths iin Ahiric, mais nous detournons nos yeux des deserts ensanglantes dc hi Scythie pour les fixer avec plaisir sur Athenes et sur Florence. Florence, Aoiit 29, 17G4-. — Nous sommcs alles en corps avec le Chevalier Mann, pour faire visite au Marechal Botta, qui est arrive aujourd'iuii de Vienne, en dix jours. C'est unc course un peu forte pour un vieillard qui a soixante dix-sept ans, mais il paroit encore vert et vigoureux. II nous a rc^u poliiucnt, mais il n'a parlc qu'au chevalier. C'est un homme singulier, qui s'est elevc aux plus grands emplois a force de bevues. 11 a cu des ambassades brillantes, et des commandemcns d'armees. Aujourd'iuii il est feld-marechal, colonel d'un regiment d'infanteric, chef de la I'egence de Toscane, et vicaire-general de I'empirc en Italie. On se plaint beaucoup de sa hauteur et de son avarice. II se refuse aux depenses les plus necessaires pour en- voyer beaucoup d'argent a Vienne, et dans sept ou huit ans, qu'il a gouverne la Toscane, il n'a rien fait pour le bien du pays. On compare cctte conduite a. celle de son predecesseur le Conite de Richecourt, qui a dignement represente son prince ; qui a conclu un concordat tres-avantageux avec la cour de Rome, supprime I'inquisition, borne le nombre et la richesse'des couvens par une loi de mortmain, qui a fait de grand chemin a Bologne, Sec. &c. Florence, Septembre I, 1764. — Le Chevalier Mann, comme a I'ordinaire. J'y ai vu un Baron Prussien, dont je ne sais pas le nom. II y a quatre ou cinque ans qu'il voyage. II a cte en Angleterre, et parle tres bon Anglois. II me paroit joli garcon, et ne manque point de sens. J'ai cause avec lui sur son roi. 11 est permis d'etre curieux sur !e compte d'un pareil homme. Je vois qu'il I'admire plus qu'il ne I'aime. A-t-il tort ? Un de ses oncles s'est fait hacher en pieces pour ne pas essuyer les reproches durs et inevitables de son maitre de ce qu'il n'avoit pas fait I'impossible. Le Roi de Prusse se pique de se connoitre en physionomie, science qu'il estime, et qui doit plaire aux rois, parcequ'il semble leur donner les connoissances intentives d'un Etre superieur. Le roi meprise tout homme qui paroit intimide en sa presence. Mais ne distingueroit-il point entre le courtisan qui tremble devant un roi, et I'homme qui sent la superiorite d'un grand homme ? Pise, Septembre 24, 1764. — J'ai trouve a Pise mon parent le com- mandant Acton, avec son neveu, qui nous ont comble de politesses. Je plains beaucoup ce pauvre vieillard. A I'age de soixante ans il se trouve abandonne de tons les Anglois pour avoir change de religion ; accable d'infirmite, sans esperance de revoir son pays, il se fixe parmi un peuple dont il n'a jamais pu apprendre la langue. Dans I'univers entier il ne lui reste que son neveu, dont la reputation a beaucoup soufFert du changement de son onclc, qu'on attribue a son manege. 210 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VI. No. 15. page 184. " Perhaps," observes M. Suard, " it will not be difficult to trace, in the impressions from which the conception of the work arose, one of the causes of that war wiiicli Gibbon seems to have declared against Christianity ; the design of which neither appears conformable to his character, little disposed to partj^-spirit — nor to that moderation of thought and sentiment which led iiim in all things, particular as well as general, to view the advantages as well as the evil consequences. But, struck with a first impression, Gibbon, in writing the history of the fall of the empire, saw in Christianity only an institution which had placed vespers, barefooted fryars, and processions, in the room of the magnificent ceremonies of the worship of Jupiter, and the triumphs of the Capitol." — M. CHAP. VII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 211 CHAPTER VII. Mr. Gibbon^ s Bejiectioiu upon his Situation. — Some Account of his Friend M. Deyverdun. — He writes, and commu- nicates to his Friends, an Historical Essay upon the Lihei'ty of the Siciss. — Their unfavourable Judgment. — Mr. Hume^s Opinion. — Mr. Gibbon and M. Deyverdun engage in a Periodical Work, intended as a Continuation of Dr. Matfs Journal Brittannique; entitled, Memoires Litteraires de la Grande Bretagne. — Account of the Work. — Mr. Gibbon publishes his Observations on the Vlth jFneid of Virgil, in opposition to Bishop Warburtoti's Hypothesis. — Mr. Heyne's and Mr. Haylefs Opinions of that Essay. — Mr. Gibbon determines to icrite the History of the Decline and Fall. — His prep>aratory Studies. — Reflexions on his domestic Circumstances; his Father's Death and Character. On the 2,5th of June 1765, I arrived at my father's house ; and the five years and a half between my travels and my father's death (I77O) are the portion of my life which I passed with the least enjoy- ment, and which I remember with the least satis- faction. Every spring I attended the monthly meeting and exercise of the militia at South- ampton ; and by the resignation of my father, and the death of Sir Thomas AVorsley, I was succes- sively promoted to the rank of major and lieutenant- colonel commandant ; but I was each year more disgusted with the inn, the wine, the company, and the tiresome repetition of annual attendance p 2 212 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VII. and daily exercise. At home, tlie economy of the family and farm still maintained the same creditable appearance. My connection with Mrs. Gibbon was mellowed into a warm and solid attachment ; my growing years abolished the distance that might yet remain between a parent and a son, and my behaviour satisfied my father, who was proud of the success, however imperfect in his own life- time, of my literary talents. Our solitude was soon and often enlivened by the visit of the friend of my youth, M. Deyverdun, whose absence from Lausanne I had sincerely lamented. About three years after my first departure, he had emi- grated from his native lake to the banks of the Oder in Germany. The res angu.sta domi, the waste of a decent patrimony by an improvident father, obliged him, like many of his countrymen, to confide in his own industry ; and he was en- trusted with the education of a young prince, the grandson of the Margrave of Schavedt, of the Royal Family of Prussia. Oiu' friendship was never cooled, our correspondence was sometimes interrupted ; but I rather wished than hoped to obtain M. Deyverdun for the companion of my Italian tour. An unhappy, though honourable passion drove him from his German court ; and the attractions of hope and curiosity were fortified by the expectation of my speedy return to England. During four successive summers he passed several weeks or months at Bcriton, and our free conver- sations, on every topic that could interest the heart or understanding, would have reconciled me to a desert or a prison. In the winter months of CHAP. Vir. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 213 London my sphere of knowledge and action was somewhat enlarged, by the many new acquaintance which I had contracted in the militia and abroad ; and I must regret, as more than an acquaintance, Mr. Godfrey Clarke of Derbyshire, an amiable and worthy young man, who was snatched away by an untimely death. A weekly convivial meeting was established by myself and other travellers, under the name of the Roman Club.^ The renewal, or perhaps the improvement, of my English life was embittered by the alteration of my own feelings. At the age of twenty-one I was, in my proper station of a youth, delivered from the yoke of education, and delighted with the comparative state of liberty and affluence. My filial obedience was natural and easy ; and in the gay prospect of futurity, my ambition did not extend beyond the enjoyment of my books, my leisure, and my patrimonial estate, undisturbed by the cares of a family and the duties of a profession. But in the militia I was armed with power ; in my travels, I was exempt from control ; and as I approached, as I gradually passed my thirtieth year, I began to feel the desire of being master in my own house. The most gentle authority will sometimes frown without reason, the most cheerful submission will sometimes murmur without cause j and such is the law of our imperfect nature, that we must either 1 The members were Lord Moimtstiiart Cnow Marquis of Bute), Colonel Eflmonstonc, VVm.WccIdal, Rev. Mr. Palgravc, Earl of Berkley, Godfrey Clarke (Member for Derbyshire), Holroyil (Lord Sheflield), Major Riilley, Thomas Charles Bigi^e, Sir William (niise, Sir Jolm Aubrey, the late Earl of Abingdon, Hon. Peregrine Bertie, Rev. Mr. Cleaver, Hon. John Darner, lion. George Damcr (late Earl of Dor- chester^, Sir Thomas Gascoygne, Sir John Hort, E. Gibbon. p 3 214 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VII. command or obey ; that our personal liberty is sup- ported by the obsequiousness of our own dependants. While so many of my acquaintance were married or in parliament, or advancing with a rapid step in the various roads of honour and fortune, I stood alone, immovable and insignificant ; for after the monthly meeting of ]770j I li^d even withdrawn myself from the militia, by the resignation of an empty and barren commission. My temper is not sus- ceptible of envy, and the view of successful merit has always excited my warmest applause. The miseries of a vacant life were never known to a man whose hours were insufficient for the inex- haustible pleasures of study. But I lamented that at the proper age I had not embraced the lucrative pursuits of the law or of trade, the chances of civil office or India adventure, or even the fat slumbers of the church ; and my repentance became more lively as the loss of time was more irretrievable. Experience showed me the use of grafting my private consequence on the importance of a great professional body ; the benefits of those firm con- nections which are cemented by hope and interest, by gratitude and emulation, by the mutual exchange of services and favours. From the emoluments of a profession I might have derived an ample fortune, or a competent income, instead of being stinted to the same narrow allowance, to be increased only by an event which I sincerely deprecated. Tiie progress and the knowledge of our domestic disorders ag- gravated my anxiety, and I began to apprehend that I might be left in my old age without the fruits either of industry or inheritance. CHAP. VII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 215 In the first summer after my return, whilst I enjoyed at Beriton the society of my friend Dey- verdun, our daily conversations expatiated over the field of ancient and modern literature ; and we freely discussed my studies, my first Essay, and my future projects. The Decline and Fall of Rome I still contemplated at an awful distance : but the two historical designs which had balanced my choice were submitted to his taste; and in the parallel between the Revolutions of Florence and Swit- zerland, our common partiality for a country which was his by birth, and mine by adoption, inclined the scale in favour of the latter. According to the plan, which was soon conceived and digested, I em- braced a period of two hundred years, from the association of the three peasants of the Alps to the plenitude and prosperity of the Helvetic body in the sixteenth century. I should have described the deliverance and victory of the Swiss, who have never shed the blood of their tyrants but in a field of battle ; the laws and manners of the confederate states ; the splendid trophies of the Austrian, Bur- gundian, and Italian wars ; and the wisdom of a nation, who, after some sallies of martial adventure, has been content to guard the blessings of peace with the sword of freedom. Manus hasc ininiica tyrannis Ense petit placidam sub libertate quietem. My judgment, as well as my enthusiasm, was sa- tisfied with the glorious theme ; and the assistance of Deyverdun seemed to remove an insuperable obstacle. The French or Latin memorials, of which p 4 216 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VII. I was not ignorant, are inconsiderable in number and weight ; but in the perfect acquaintance of my friend with the German language, I found the key of a more valuable collection. The most necessary books were procured ; he translated, for my use, the foUo volume of Schilhng, a copious and con- temporary relation of the war of Burgundy ; we read and marked the most interesting parts of the great chronicle of Tschudi ; and by his labour, or that of an inferior assistant, large extracts were made from the History of Lauffer and the Dic- tionary of Lew; yet such was the distance and delay, that two years elapsed in these preparatory steps ; and it was late in the third summer (I7O7) before I entered, with these slender materials, on the more agreeable task of composition. A specimen of my History, the first book, was read the following winter in a literary society of foreigners in London ; and as the author was unknown, I listened, with- out observation, to the free strictures, and imfa- vourable sentence, of my judges.(l) The momen- tary sensation was painful ; but their condemnation was ratified by my cooler thoughts. I delivered my imperfect sheets to the flames -, and for ever re- nounced a design in which some expense, much labour, and more time, had been so vainly con- sumed. I cannot regret the loss of a slight and '■i lie neglected to l)iirn tliein. lie left at Sheffield-Place tlic intro- duction, or first book, in fortj-thrcc jiaircs folio, written in a very small hand, besides a considerable nuinl)er of notes. INlr. Hume's opinion, expressed in the letter in the last note, pcrliaps may justify the pub- lication of it. — S. * * Lord Sheffield, however, by this, as well as tlie other remaining his will, seems to have condemned works of Gibbon, to oblivion. — M. CHAP. VII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 217 superficial essay; for such the work must liave been in the hands of a stranger, uninformed by the scholars and statesmen, and remote from the li- braries and archives of the Swiss republics. My ancient habits, and the presence of Deyverdun, en- couraged me to write in French for the continent of Europe ; but I was conscious myself that my style, above prose and below poetry, degenerated into a verbose and turgid declamation. Perhaps I may impute the failure to the injudicious choice of a foreign language. Perhaps I may suspect that the language itself is ill adapted to sustain the vigour and dignity of an important narrative. But if France, so rich in literary merit, had produced a great original historian, his genius would have formed and fixed the idiom to the proper tone, the peculiar mode of liistorical eloquence. It was in search of some liberal and lucrative employment that my friend Deyverdun had visited England. His remittances from home were scanty and precarious. My purse was always open, but it was often empty ; and I bitterly felt the want of riches and power, which might have enabled me to correct the errors of his fortune. His wishes and qualifications solicited the station of the travelling governor of some wealthy pupil; but every vacancy provoked so many eager candidates, that for a long- time I struggled without success ; nor was it till after much application that I could even place him as a clerk in the office of the secretary of state. In a residence of several years he never acquired the just pronunciation and familiar use of the English tongue, but he read our most difficult 218 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VII. authors with ease and taste : his critical knowledge of our language and poetry was such as few foreigners have possessed ; and few of our country- men could enjoy the theatre of Shakspeare and Garrick with more exquisite feeling and discern- ment. The consciousness of his own strength, and the assurance of my aid, emboldened him to imitate the example of Dr. Maty, whose Journal Brit- tannique was esteemed and regretted ; and to im- prove his model, by uniting with the transactions of literature a philosophic view of the arts and manners of the British nation. Our Journal for the year 17^^7> under the title of Memoires Litte- raires de la Grande Bretagne, was soon finished and sent to the press. For the first article. Lord Littelton's History of Henry II., I must own my- self responsible ; but the public has ratified my judg- ment of that voluminous work, in which sense and learning are not illuminated by a ray of genius. (2) The next specimen was the choice of my friend, The Bath Guide, alight and whimsical performance, of local, and even verbal, pleasantry. I started at the attempt : he smiled at my fears : his courage was justified by success; and a master of both languages will applaud the curious felicity with which he has transfused into French prose the spirit, and even the humour, of the English verse. It is not my wish to deny how deeply I vvas inter- ested in these Memoirs, of wiiicli I need not surely be ashamed ; but at the distance of more than twenty years, it would be imj)ossible for me to ascertain the respective shares of the two associates. A long and intimate connnunication of ideas had CHAP. Vir. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 219 cast our sentiments and style in the same mould. In our social labours we composed and corrected by turns ; and the praise which I might honestly bestow, would fall perhaps on some article or passage most properly my own. A second volume (for the year I768) was published of these Memoirs. I will presume to say, that their merit was superior to their reputation; but it is not less true, that they were productive of more reputation than emolu- ment. They introduced my friend to the pro- tection, and myself to the acquaintance, of the Earl of Chesterfield, whose age and infirmities secluded him from the world ; and of Mr. David Hume, who was under-secretary to the office in which Deyverdun was more humbly employed. The former accepted a dedication (April 12th, I7G9), and reserved the author for the future education of his successor : the latter enriched the Journal with a reply to Mr. Walpole's Historical Doubts, which he afterwards shaped into the form of a note. The materials of the third volume were almost completed, when I recommended Deyverdun as governor to Sir Richard Worsley, a youth, the son of my old lieutenant-colonel, who was lately deceased. They set forwards on their travels ; nor did they return to England till some time after my father's death. My next publication was an accidental sally of love and resentment; of my reverence for modest genius, and my aversion for insolent pedantry. The sixth book of the ^neid is the most pleasing and perfect composition of Latin poetry. The descent of ^^neas and the Sybil to the infernal 220 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VII. regions, to tlie world of spirits, expands an awful and boundless })rospcct, from the nocturnal gloom of the Cuma^'an grot, Ibant obsciiri sola sub nocte per uinbram, to the meridian brightness of the Elysian fields ; Largior hie campos a;tlier et liiinine vestit Piir{)ureo • from the dreams of simple Nature, to the dreams, alas ! of Egyptian theology, and the ])hilosophy of the Greeks. But the final dismission of the hero through the ivory gate, whence Falsa ad coeluin inittunt insomnia niancs, seems to dissolve the whole enchantment, and leaves the reader in a state of cold and anxious scc})ticism. This most lame and impotent con- clusion has been variously imputed to the taste or irreligion of Virgil ; but, according to the more elaborate interpretation of Bishop Warburton, the descent to hell is not a false, but a mimic scene ; which represents the initiation of ^^^^neas, in the character of a law-giver, to the Eleusinian mys- teries. This hypothesis, a singular chapter in the Divine Legation of Moses, had been admitted by many as true ; it was praised by all as ingenious ; nor Jiad it been exposed, in a space of thirty years, to a fair and critical discussion. The learning and the abilities of the author had raised him to a just eminence ; but he reigned the dictator and tyrant of the world of literature. The real merit of Warburton was degraded by the pride and pre- sumption with which he pronounced his infldlible decrees ; in his polemic writings he lashed Iiis an- CHAP. VII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 221 tagonists without mercy or moderation ; and his servile flatterers ( see the base and malignant Essay on the Z>t'//cr/q?/ ofFriend.sliip)^, exalting the master critic far above Aristotle and Longiniis, assaulted every modest dissenter who refused to consult the oracle, and to adore the idol. In a land of liberty, such despotism must provoke a general opposition, and the zeal of opposition is seldom candid or impartial. A late professor of Oxford (Dr. Lowth), in a pointed and polished epistle* (August 31st, 17^5), defended himself, and attacked the Bishop ; and, whatsoever might be the merits of an insignificant controversy, his victory was clearly established by the silent con- fusion of Warburton and his slaves. / too, without any private offence, was ambitious of breaking a lance against the giant's shield ; and in the be- ginning of the year 1770, my Critical Observations on the Sixth Book of the ^neid were sent, with- out my name, to the press. In this short Essay, my first English publication, I aimed my strokes against the person and the hypothesis of Bishop Warburton. I proved, at least to my own satis- fliction, tJiat the ancient lawgivers did not invent the mysteries, and tliat ^neas was never invested with the office of lawgiver : that there is not any argument, any circumstance, which can melt a fable into allegory, or remove the scene from the Lake Avernus to the Temple of Ceres : tliat such 3 By Hurd, afterwards Bishop of Worcester. — See Dr. Pars's Tracts by Warburton, and a Warburtonian. * This letter of Lowth's is a prelates engaged in this fierce in- niaster-piccc of its kind, and if our tellectual gladiatorism, the chief cahner judgment is oifended l)y tiic bhune must fall on the aggressor, unseemly spectacle of two christian Warburton. — M. 222 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VII. a wild supposition is equally injurious to the poet and the man : tliat if Virgil was not initiated he could not, if he were he would not, reveal the secrets of the initiation : that the anathema of Horace (vetabo qui Cereris sacrum vulgarity cj-c.) at once attests his own ignorance and the innocence of his friend. As the Bishop of Gloucester and his party maintained a discreet silence, my critical disquisition was soon lost among the pamphlets of the day ; but the public coldness was overbalanced to my feelings by the weighty approbation of the last and best editor of Virgil, Professor Heyne of Gottingen, who acquiesces in my confutation, and styles the unknown author, doctus - - - et elegan- tissimus Britannus. But I cannot resist the temp- tation of transcribing the favourable judgment of Mr. Hayley, himself a poet and a scholar : " An intricate hypothesis, twisted into a long and la- boured chain of quotation and argument, the Dis- sertation on the Sixth Book of Virgil, remained some time unrefuted. - - - - At length, a superior, but anonymous, critic arose, who, in one of the most judicious and spirited essays that our nation has produced, on a point of classical literature, completely overturned this ill-founded edifice, and exposed the arrogance and futility of its assuming architect." He even condescends to justify an acrimony of style, which had been gently blamed by the more unbiassed German j " Paulo acrius quam veils - - - - perstrinxit." '* But I cannot for- ■• The editor of theWarburtonian tracts, Dr. Parr (p. 1 92.), considers the allegorical interpretation " as completely refuted in a most clear, elegant, and decisive work of criticism ; which could not, indeed, derive authority from the greatest name ; but to which the greatest name might with propriety have been affixed." — S. CHAP. VII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 223 give myself the contemptuous treatment of a man who, with all his faults, was entitled to my esteem''; and I can less forgive, in a personal attack, the cowardly concealment of my name and character. In the fifteen years between my Essay on the Study of Literature and the first volume of the Decline and Fall (I7GI — 1776), this criticism on Warburton, and some articles in the Journal, were my sole publications. It is more especially incum- bent on me to mark the employment, or to confess the waste of time, from my travels to my father's death, an interval in which I was not diverted by any professional duties from the labours and pleasures of a studious life. 1. As soon as I was released from the fruitless task of the Swiss revolu- tions (1768), I began gradually to advance from the wish to the hope, from the hope to the design, from the design to the execution, of my historical work, of whose limits and extent I had yet a very inadequate notion. The Classics, as low as Tacitus, the younger Pliny, and Juvenal, were my old and familiar companions. I insensibly plunged into the ocean of the Augustan history ; and in the descending series I investigated, with my pen 5 The Divine Legation of Moses is a monument, already crumbling in the dust, of the vigour and weakness of the human mind. If War- burton's new argument proved any thing, it would be a demonstration against the legislator, who left his people without the knowledge of a future state. But some episodes of the work, on the Greek philosophy, the hieroglyphics of Egypt, &c.. are entitled to the praise of learning, imagination, and discernment.* * Warburton, with all his bold- spirit and opinions of his authors, ness and ingenuity, was not pro- The great proof of the discernment foundly read in the Greek philoso- of Warburton is his dim second sight phers; he caught at single passages, of the modern discoveries in hiero- which favoured his own views, glyphics, — M. rather than fully represented the 224 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VII. almost always in my hand, the original records, both Greek and Latin, from Dion Cassius to Ammianus Marcellinus, from the reign of Trajan to the last age of the Western Caesars. The subsi- diary rays of medals, and inscriptions of geography and chronology, were thrown on their proper objects; and 1 applied the collections of Tillemont, whose inimitable accuracy almost assumes the character of genius, to fix and arrange within my reacli the loose and scattered atoms of historical information. Through tlie darkness of the middle ages I explored my way in the Annals and Anti- quities of Italy of the learned Muratori; and diligently compared them with the parallel or transverse lines of Sigonius and Maffei, Baronius and Pagi, till I almost grasped the ruins of Rome in the fourteenth century, without suspecting that this final chapter must be attained by the labour of six quartos and twenty years. Among the books which I purchased, the Theodosian Code, with the commentary of James Godefroy, must be gratefully remembered : I used it (and much I used it) as a work of history, rather than of juris- prudence : but in every light it may be considered as a full and capacious repository of the political state of the empire in the fourth and fifth centuries. As I believed, and as I still believe, that the pro- pagation of the Gospel, and the triumph of the church, are inse])arably connected with the decline of the Roman monarchy, I weighed the causes and effects of the revolution, and contrasted the nar- ratives and apologies of the Christians themselves, with the glances of candour or enmity which the CHAP. VII. IMY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 225 Pagans liave cast on the rising sects. The Jewish and Heathen testimonies, as they are collected and illustrated by Dr. Lardner, directed, without super- seding, my search of the originals ; and in an ample dissertation on the miraculous darkness of the passion, I privately drew my conclusions from the silence of an unbelieving age. I have assem- bled the preparatory studies, directly or indirectly relative to my history ; but, in strict equity, they must be spread beyond this period of my life, over the two summers (1771 and 177^) that elapsed between my father's death and my settlement in London. 2. In a free conversation with books and men, it would be endless to enumerate the names and characters of all who are introduced to our acquaintance ; but in this general acquaintance we may select the degrees of friendship and esteem. According to the wise maxim, Midtum legere potius quam multa, I reviewed, again and again, the immortal w^orks of the French and English, the Latin and Italian classics. My Greek studies (though less assiduous than I designed) maintained and extended my knowledge of that incomparable idiom. Homer and Xenophon were still my favourite authors ; and I had almost prepared for the press an Essay on the Cyropaedia, which, in my own judgment, is not unhappily laboured. After a certain age, the new publications of merit are the sole food of the many; and the most austere student will be often tempted to break the line, for the sake of indulging his own curiosity, and of providing the topics of fashionable currency. A more respectable motive may be assigned for the a 226 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VII. third perusal of Blackstone's Commentaries, and a copious and critical abstract of that English work was my first serious production in my native language. S. My literary leisure was much less complete and independent than it might appear to the eye of a stranger. In the hurry of London I was destitute of books ; in the solitude of Hampshire I was not master of my time. My quiet was gra- dually disturbed by our domestic anxiety, and I should be ashamed of my unfeeling philosophy, had I found much time or taste for study in the last fatal summer (1770) of my flither's decay and dissolution. The disembodving: of the militia at the close of the war (1760) had restored the Major (a new Cin- cinnatus) to a life of agriculture. His labours were useful, his pleasures innocent, his wishes moderate ; and my father A^eeme^ to enjoy the state of happi- ness which is celebrated by poets and philosophers, as tlie most agreeable to nature, and the least ac- cessible to fortune. Bcatus ille, (jui procul negotiis (Ut prisca gens mortarmni) Patcrna rura bobus excrcct suis, Soliitus omni foenore. c Hor. Ejiod.u. But the last indispensable condition, the freedom from debt, was wanting to my father's felicity; and the vanities of liis youth were severely punished by the solicitude and sorrow of his declining age. The first mortgage, on my return from Lausanne, (1758,) Like the first mortals, blest is he, From debts, and usury, and business free, With his own team who ploughs the soil, Which grateful once confess'd liis father's toil. Francis. CHAP. VII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 227 had afforded him a partial and transient reUef. The annual demand of interest and allowance was a lieavy deduction from his income ; the militia was a source of expense, the farm in his hands was not a profitable adventure, he was loaded with the costs and damages of an obsolete law-suit ; and each year multiplied the number, and exhausted the patience, of his creditors. Under these painful circumstances, I consented to an additional mortgage, to the sale of Putney, and to every sacrifice that could alleviate his distress. But he was no longer capable of a rational effort, and his reluctant delays postponed, not the evils themselves, but the remedies of those evils (I'emediamaloru'mpotius quammala differebat). The pangs of shame, tenderness, and self-reproach, incessantly preyed on his vitals; his constitution was broken ; he lost his strength and his sight : the rapid progress of a dropsy admonished him of his end, and he sunk into the grave on the 10th of No- vember, 177t>j in the sixty-fourth year of his age. A family tradition insinuates that Mr. William Law had drawn his pupil in the light and inconstant cha- racter of Flatus (3), who is ever confident, and ever disappointed in the chace of happiness. But these constitutional failings were happily compensated by the virtues of the head and heart, by the warmest sentiments of honour and humanity. His graceful person, polite address, gentle manners, and unaf- fected cheerfulness, recommended him to the favour of every company ; and in the change of times and opinions, his liberal spirit had long since delivered him from the zeal and prejudice of a Tory educa- tion. I submitted to the order of Nature ; and 228 MEaioiRs OF chap. vit. my grief was soothed by the conscious satisfaction that I had discharged all the duties of filial piety. As soon as I had paid the last solemn duties to my father, and obtained, from time and reason, a tolerable composure of mind, I beg-^n to form a plan of an independent life, most adapted to my circumstances and inclination. Yet so intricate was the net, my efforts were so awkward and feeble, that nearly two years (November, 1770 — October, 1772) were suffered to elapse before I could dis- entangle myself from the management of the farm, and transfer my residence from Beriton to a house in London. During this interval I continued to divide my year between town and the country ; but my nev/ situation was brightened by hope ; my sta}^ in London was prolonged into the summer ; and the uniformity of the summer was occasionally broken by visits and excursions at a distance from home. The gratification of my desires (they were not immoderate) has been seldom disappointed by the want of money or credit ; my pride was never insulted by the visit of an importunate tradesman ; and my transient anxiety for the past or future has been dispelled by the studious or social occupation of the present hour. My conscience doesnotaccuse me of any act of extravagance or injustice, and the remnant of my estate affords an ample and honour- able provision for my declining age. I shall not expatiate on my economical affairs, which cannot be instructive or amusing to the reader. It is a rule of prudence, as well as of politeness, to reserve such confidence for the ear of a private friend, without exposing our situation to the envy or pity CHAP. VII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 229 of strangers ; for envy is productive of hatred, and pity borders too nearly on contempt. Yet I may believe, and even assert, that in circumstances more indigent or more wealthy, I should never have accomplished the task, or acquired the fame, of an historian ; that my spirit would have been broken by poverty and contempt, and that my in- dustry might have been relaxed in the labour and luxury of a superfluous fortune. I had now attained the first of earthly blessings, independence : I was the absolute master of my hours and actions : nor was I deceived in the hope that the establishment of my library in town would allow me to divide the day between study and society. Each year the circle of my acquaintance, the number of my dead and living companions, was enlarged. To a lover of books, the shops and sales of London present irresistible temptations ; and the manufacture of my history required a various and growing stock of materials. The militia, my travels, the House of Commons, the flime of an author contributed to multiply my connections : I was chosen a member of the fashionable clubs ; and, before I left England in 1783, there were few per- sons of any eminence in the literary or political world to whom I was a stranger.^ It would most assuredly be in my power to amuse the reader with 7 From the mixed, though polite company of Boodle's, White's, and Brooks's, I must honourably distinguish a weekly society, which was instituted in the year 17()4, aud which still continues to flourish, under the title of the Literary Club. (4) (Hawkins's Life of Johnson, p, 415. Boswell's Tour to the Uebrrdes, p. 97.) The names of Dr. Johnson, Mr. Burke, Mr. Topliam Beauclerc, Mr. (larrick, Dr. (ioldsmitii, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Colman, Sir Wilham Jones, Dr. Percy, Mr, Fox, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Adam Smith, Mr. Steevens, Mr. Dunning, Sir Q 3 230 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. a gallery of portraits and a collection of anecdotes. But I have always condemned the practice of trans- forming a private memorial into a vehicle of satire or praise. By my own choice I passed in town the greatest part of the year: but whenever I was de- sirous of breathing the air of the country, I pos- sessed an hospitable retreat at Sheffield-place in Sussex, in the family of my valuable friend Mr. Holroyd, whose character, under the name of Lord Sheffield, has since been more conspicuous to the public. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. No. 1. page 21G. Mr. Hiinic seems to Iiave had a different opinion of this work. From Mr. Hume to Mr. Gibbon. Sir, It i,s but a few days ago since M. Deyverdiin put yom- manuscript into my hands, and I have perused it with great pleasure and satisfaction. I have only one objection, derived from the language in which it is written. Why do you compose in French, and carry faggots into the wood, as Horace says with regard to Romans who wrote in Greek ? I grant that you have a like motive to those Romans, and adopt a lan- guage much more generally diffused than your native tongue : but have Joseph Banks, Dr. Warton, and his brother Mr. Thomas Warton, Dr. Burney, &c. form a large and luminous constellation of British stars.* * See in Mr. Croker's Boswell, Elphinstone, Right. Hon. Sir C. i. 528, the list of the club, in the E. Grey, Hudson Gurney, Esq., year 1829. Since that time, to H. Galley Knight, Esq.", T. B, 18.39, the following members have Macaulay, Esq., Viscount Mahon, been elected: — Lord Brouijliam, Rev. IL H. Mi!inan,"N.W. Senior, Rev. Dr. C. 1^. Burney, Earl of Esq., Sir Martin Archer Shee, Rev. Caernarvon, Lord Dover, Lord Sydney Smith, Rev. W. Whewell. F. Egerton, Hon. Mount Stuart — M. CHAP. Vir. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 231 you not remarked the fate of those two ancient languages in following ages ? The Latin, thou^h then less celebrated, and confined to more narrow limits, has in some measure outlived the Greek, and is now more generally understood by men of letters. Let the French, therefore, triumph in the present diffusion of their tongue. Our solid and in- creasing establishments in America, wliere we need less dread the in- undation of Barbarians, promise a superior stability and duration to the English language. Your use of the French tongue has also led you into a style more poetical and figurative, and more highly coloured, than our language seems to admit of in historical productions : for such is the practice o French writers, particularly the more recent ones, who illuminate their pictures more than custom will permit us. On the whole, your History, in my opinion, is written with spirit and judgment; and I exhort you very earnestly to continue it. The objections that occurred to me on reading it, were so frivolous, that I shall not trouble you with then), and should, I believe, have a difficulty to recollect them. I am, with great esteem, London, Sir, your most obedient, 24th of Oct. 1767. and most humble Servant, ♦ (Signed) David Hume. No. 2. page 218. See Letter, Miscell. Works, vol. ii. page 68. These volumes have become extremely rare ; the reader maybe in- terested by some extracts from Gibbon's avowed article on Lord Lyttleton's work. The general tone is candid, courteous, and judicious ; it is a fair appreciation of the merits of a very unequal work, and at the same time occasionally very characteristic of the reviewer. He commences by an account of Lord Lyttleton's former works, and thus notices his celebrated tract on St. Paul : " La Christianisme a trouve dans ce seigneur un defenseur zele, qui ajouta aux preuves ordinaircs de la religion un argument qui fait honneur du moins aux lumieres et aux sentimens de son auteur." The critical accuracy of Gibbon is well shown in the following just observation : — " Sur I'autorite d'un auteur contemporain et temoin oculaire, my Lord Lyttleton avoit compte I'armee du Due Guillaume a cinquante mille chevaux et dix mille fantassins (milites). Je respecte ce te- moignage, et plus encore le jugement du savant auteur, mais I'un et I'autre doivent etre souniis aux loisde la vraisemblance. Unecavalerie aussi nombreusen'a jamais passelamcr. Elle composeroit memeavecle cortege des chevaliers, une armee depresdedeux cent milleshonnncs : je sais que le mot de viUcs, qui n'avoit distingue qu'un soldat quelconque, commen9oit vers le XI™* siecle de prendre le sens exclusif d'un cavalier; Q 4 232 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS, niais lancienne signification de ce mot n'etoit point perdue. On me pcrmettra de croire, que I'historien Normand Ta employee, ct que Tarmee entiere du Due Guilluame n'alloit qu'a envii'on cinquante miile combattans." Lord Lyttleton introduces the beautiful anecdote of llobert of Nor- • mandy, who, when, with William Ilufus, he was besieging their brother Henry in M'. St. Michael, on iiearing tliat Henry was suffering for want of water, sent him a supply. Being reproached by William for his mis- jilaced humanity, he replied, "Am I to be blamed for not permitting my bi other t(? perish of tliirst ? '' Ciibbon subjoins, "My Lord Lyttleton discute un peu trop froidement cette reponse : ' J'aime mieux la seutir. ' " The quiet irony of the following is in Gibbon's best style : " My Lord L., enhardi par I'exemple de tous les anciens et de quelques uns des modernes, compose pour le Counte d' Arundel une harangue de trois pages, que ce comte auroit du prononcer. Notre savant au- teur, qui connoit a fond le Xl"'|' siecle, avoit sans doute ses raisons pour preter a I'orateur la vertu de Caton, plutot que I'eloquence de Ciceron." Gibbon anticipated the privilege assumed by modern reviewers, to wliich we owe much admirable writing, that of selecting the chief facts from a passage in a dull, and perhaps prolix writer, compressing it into life, and arraying it in his own glowing language. The whole dia- racter of Becket, which he has tiius founded on Lord Lyttleton, is ex- tremely curious. These sentences might be given as a translation from the Decline and Fall. " Henri avoit mal connu le caractere de son favori. Get esprit ambitieux aima mieux etre le rival que le ministre de son maitre. Si la grace I'eclaira dans ce moment, il faut convcnir qu'elle avoit attendu le tems ou elle s'accordoit parfaitement avec ses interets temporels." lie thus describes the death of Becket. " Becket rentra dans Canterberi au milieu des acclamations du peuple, qui vint a sa rencontre en criant : ' Lone soit celui qui vient au noin du Seigneur.' II paroit par sa correspondence que I'archeveque, instruit du nombre et de la rage de ses ennemis, attendoit au martyre et le desiroit. Le fanatisme, que cet habile politique avoit si longtemps inspire aux autres I'avoit enfin saisi, et le fourbe n'etoit plus qu'un enthousiaste. Un philosophe qui auroit vu de pres les progres de ce fanatisme dans I'ame du prelat, eut pu enrichir d'un morceau tres curieux I'histoire de Tesprit humain. Je ne m'appesantirai sur les details de la mort de Becket : on salt assez, quo Henri irrite des nouveaux exces de I'arche- veque, laissa echapper le desir d'une vengeance, qui ne fut servie que trop fulelement. Becket fut tue au pied de Tautel de sa cathedrale, et les (Icrniers momens de sa vie furent ceux d'un saint et d'un grand homme !" The review concludes with the following estimate of Lord Lyttleton, carefully reserving the M/Vr/place among the historians of the age : " Les autres nations de I'Europe avoient devance les Anglois dans la carriere dc I'Histoire. L'Angleterre possedait des poetes et des philosophes, CHAP. VII. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 233 itiais on lui reprochait de n'avoir que de froids annalistes, ou des declamatcurs passionnes. Deux grands hommcs ont fait taire ce reproclic ; iin Robertson a pare les annales de sa patrie de toutes les graces de Teloquence la plus male. Un Hume, ne pour eclairer et pour juger les honinies, a porte dans I'llistoire la luniiere d'une philosophic profonde et elegante. Nous ne prodiguerons jamais a la grandeur la recompense des talens. My Lord L. ne doit pas pretendre a la gloire de ces hommes de genie, mais il lui reste les qualitcs d'un bon ecrivain, d'un savant tres-eclaire, d'un ecrivain exact et impartial, et c'est avec plaisir que nous les lui accordons." I can discover no indications of Gibbon's style or sentiment in the second volume of these Memoirs. The review of a dialogue ascribed to Lord Herbert of Cherbury approaches the nearest to his manner, but I doubt his authorship of this, — M. No. 3. page 227. " Look at Flatus, and learn how miserable they are, who are left to the folly of their own passions. " Flatus is rich and in health, yet always uneasy, and always search- ing after happiness. Every time you visit him, you find some new project in his head ; he is eager upon it as something that is more worth his while, and will do more for him than any thing that is already past. Every new thing so seizes him, that if you were to take him from it, he would think himself quite undone. His sanguine temper, and strong passions, promise him so much happiness in ever}' thing, that he is always cheated, and is satisfied with nothing. " At his first setting out in life, fine clothes was his delight, his in- quiry was only after the best tailors and peruke-makers, and he had no thoughts of excelling in any thing but dress. He spared no expense, but carried every nicety to its greatest height. But this happiness not answering his expectations, he left off his brocades, put on a plain coat, railed at fops and beaus, and gave himself up to gaming with great eagerness. " This new pleasure satisfied him for some time, he envied no other way of life. But being by the fate of play drawn into a duel, where he narrowly escaped his death, he left off the dice, and sought for happiness no longer amongst the gamesters. " The next thing that seized his wandering imagination, was the diversion of the town : and for more than a twelvemonth, you heard him talk of nothing but ladies, drawing-rooms, birth days, plays, balls, and assemblies. But growing sick of these, he had recourse to hard drinking. Here he had many a merry night, and met with stronger joys than any he had felt before. Here he had thoughts of setting up his staff, and looking out no farther ; but unluckily falling into a fever, he grew angry at all strong liquors, and took his leave of the happiness of being drunk. 254 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. " The next attempt after happiness carried him into the field ; for two or three j-ears, nothing was so happy as hunting ; he entered upon it with all his soul, and leaped more hedges and ditches, than had ever been known in so short a time. You never saw him but in a green coat ; he was the envy of all that blow the horn, and always spoke to his dogs in great propriety of language. If you met him at home in a bad day, you would hear him blow his horn, and be entertained with the sur|)rising accidents of the last noble chase. No sooner had Flatus outdone all the world in the breed and education of his dogs, built new kennels, new stables, and bought a new hunting-seat, but he immediately got sight of another happiness, hated the senseless noise and hurry of hunting, gave away the dogs, and was for some time after deep in the pleasures of building. " Now he invents new kinds of dove-cotes, and has such contrivances in his barns and stables, as were never seen before : he wonders at the dulness of the old builders, is wholly bent upon the improvement of architecture, and will hardly hang a door in the ordinarj^ way. He tells his friends, that he never was so delighted in any thing in his life ; that he has more happiness amongst his brick and mortar than ever he had at court; and that he is contriving how to have some little matter to do that way as long as he lives. " The next year he leaves his house unfinished, complains to every body of masons and carpenters, and devotes himself wholly to the business of riding about. After this, you can never see him but on horseback, and so highly delighted with this new way of life, that he would tell you, give him but his horse and a clean country to ride in, and you might take all the rest to yourself. A variety of new saddles and bridles, and a great change of horses, added much to the pleasure of this new way of life. But, however, having after some time tired both himself and his horses, the happiest thing he could think of next, was to go abroad and visit foreign countries ; and there, indeed, hap- piness exceeded his imagination, and he was only uneasy that he had begim so fine a life no sooner. The next month he returned home, unable to bear any longer the impertinence of foreigners. " After this he was a great student for one whole year ; he was up early and late at his Italian grammar, that he might have the happiness of understanding the opera, whenever he should hear one, and not be like those unreasonable people, that are pleased with they know not what. " Flatus is very ill-natured, or otherwise, just as his affairs happen to be when you visit him ; if you find him when some {)roject is almost wore out, you will find a peevish ill-bred man ; but if you had seen him just as he entered upon his riding regimen, or begun to excel in sounding of the horn, you had been saluted vvitli great civility. " Flatus is now at full stand, and is doing what he never did in his life before, he is reasoning and reflecting with himself, lie loses CHAP. VII. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. ^35 several daj^s in considering which of his cast off ways of hfe he should try again. " But here a new project conies in to his relief. He is now living upon herhs, and running about the country, to get himself into as good wind as any running-footman in the kingdom." — Law's Serious Call. — M. No. 4. page 229. Tliat great diary of the conversations held at " the Club," Boswell's Johnson, has little which relates to Gibbon. The following is the best: " Johnson, whose mind had been led to think of \vild beasts, suddenly broke in upon the conversation with, ' Pennant tells of bears.' When the first ludicrous effect from this ejaculation of the " great Bear" had subsided, silence ensued. He (then) proceeded, ' We are told that the black bear is innocent; but I should not Hke to trust myself with him.' Mr. Gibbon muttered, in a low tone of voice, ' I should not much like to trust myself to you.' This piece of sarcastic pleasantry was a prudent resolution, if applied to a competition of abilities." To this passage Mr. Croker (vol. iii. p. 222.) subjoins the following note : — "Mr. Green, the anonymous author of the ' Diary of a Lover of Literature' (printed at Ipswich), states (under the date of 13th June, 1796,) that a friend, whom he designates by the initial M. (and whom I believe to be my able and obliging friend. Sir James Mackintosh), talking to him of the relative ability of Burke and Gibbon, said, ' Gibbon might have been cut out of a corner of Burke's mind without his missing it.' I fancy, now that en- thusiasm has cooled, Sir James would be inclined to allow Gibbon a larger share of mind, though his intellectual powers can never be com- pared with Burke's." Yet Gibbon's History enjoys and will probably maintain a much higher European reputation than any of Johnson's, perhaps of Burke's, writings. There is no just standard of admeasurement between the minds of writers distinguished in such different departments of literature. Johnson or even Burke (excellent as his sketch of the early History of England is) could no more have written the History of the Decline and Fall of Rome, than Gibbon the Rambler, or the Letters on the French Revolution. In page 335. (vol. iii.) we have a specimen of Boswell's own small wit on the " infidelity" contained in the History. " Lord Eliot informs me, that one day when Johnson and he were at dinner at a gentleman's house in London, after Lord Chesterfield's Letters being mentioned, Johnson surprised the company by this sentence, ' Every man of education would rather be called a rascal, than accused of deficiency in the graces.' Mr. Gibbon, v;ho was present, turned to a lady who knew Johnson well, and lived nuich with him, and in his quaint manner, tapping his box, addressed her thus : * Don't you think, Madam, (looking towards Johnson) that among all your acquaintance, you could ^36 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VII. find one exception ? ' The lady smiled and seemed to acquiesce." — Croker's Boswell, iii. p. 419. Note. — Mr. Colman,in his Random Records lately published, has given a lively sketch of the appearance and manners of Johnson and Gibbon in society: — " The learned Gibbon was a curious counterbalance to the learned (may I not say, less learned) Johnson. Their manners and taste both in writing and conversation, were as different as their habiliments. On the day I first sat down with Johnson, in his rusty brown suit, and his black worsted stockings, Gibbon was placed opposite to me in a suit of flowered velvet, with a bag and sword. Each had his measured phraseology ; and Johnson's famous parallel between Dryden and Pope might be loosely parodied, in reference to himself and Gibbon. Johnson's style was grand, and Gibbon's elegant ; the stateliness of the former was sometimes pedantic, and the polish of the latter was occasionally finical. Johnson marched to kettle-drums and trumpets; Gibbon moved to flutes and haut-boys : Johnson hewed passages through the Alps, while Gibbon levelled w-alks through parks and gardens. Mauled as I had been by Johnson, (iibbon poured balm upon my bruises, by con- descending once or twice in the evening to talk with me : the great historian was light and playfid, suiting his matter to the capacity of the boy ; but it was done more sito : still his mannerism prevailed, still he taj)ped his snuflT-box, still he smirked and smiled, and rounded his periods with the same air of good breeding as if he were conversing with men. His mouth, mellifluous as Plato's, was a round hole, nearly in the centre of his visage. — Vol. i. p. 121. Mr. Croker's Note. — M, CHAP. VIII. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 23? CHAP. VIII. Mr. Gihhon settles in London. — Begins his History of the Decline and Fall. — Becomes a Member of the House of Commons. — Characters of the ■principal Speakers. — Pub- lishes his First Volume ; its Reception. — Mr. Hume's Opinion, in a Letter to the Author. No sooner was I settled in my house and library, than I undertook the composition of the first volume of my history. At the outset all was dark and doubt- ful; even the title of the work, the true sera of the Decline and Fall of the Empire, the limits of the introduction, the division of the chapters, and the order of the narrative ; and I was often tempted to cast away the labour of seven years. The style of an author should be the image of his mind, but the choice and command of language is the fruit of exercise. Many experiments were made before I could hit the middle tone between a dull chro- nicle and a rhetorical declamation : three times did I compose the first chapter, and twice the second and third, before I was tolerably satisfied with their effect. In the remainder of the way I advanced with a more equal and easy pace ; but the fifteenth and sixteenth chapters have been reduced by three successive revisals, from a large volume to their present size ; and they might still be compressed, without any loss of facts or sentiments. An opposite fault may be imputed to the concise and superh'cial narrative of the first reigns from Commodus to Alex- 238 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. VIII. ander ; a fault of whichi have never heard, except from Mr. Hume in his hist journey to London. Such an oracle might have been consulted and obeyed with rational devotion ; but I was soon disgusted with the modest practice of reading the manuscript to my friends. Of such friends some will praise from politeness, and some will criticise from vanity. The author himself is the best judge of his own performance; no one has so deeply meditated on the subject; no one is so sincerely interested in the event. By the friendship of Mr. (now Lord) Eliot, who had married my first cousin, I was returned at the general election for the borough of Leskeard. (1) I took my seat at the beginning of the memorable contest between Great Britain and America, and supported, with many a sincere and silent vote, the rights, though not, perhaps, the interest of the mother-country. After a fleeting illusive hope, pru- dence condemned me to acquiesce in the humble sta- tion of a mute. I was not armed by Nature and education with the intrepid energy of mind and voice, Vincenteiii strepitiis, et natum rebus agcndis. Timidity was fortified by pride, and even the suc- cess of my pen discouraged the trial of my voice.' (2) ' A French sketch of Mr. Gibhon's Life, written by li'msclf, pro- ])al)ly for tlic use of some foreign join-nalist or translator, contains no fact not mentioned in his l^iglish Life. He there describes himself with his usual candour. Depuis huit ans il a assiste aux deliberations les plus importantes, mais il ne s'est jamais trouve le cou)Yi lication of my first and the commencement of my second volume ; and the causes must be assigned of this long delay. I. After a short holiday, I in- dulged my curiosity in some studies of a very dif- ' Of the voluminous writings of the Abbe de Mably (see his Eloge by the Abbe Brizard), the Principes du droit public deP Europe, and the first part of the Observations stir PHistoire de France, may be deservedly praised ; and even the Afanicre d'ecrire PHistoire contains several useful precepts and judicious remarks. Mably was a lover of virtue and freedom ; but hiy virtue was austere, and his freedom was impatient of an equal. Kings, magistrates, nobles, and successful writers, were the objects of his contempt, or hatred, or envy ; but his illiberal abuse of Voltaire, Hume, Buffbn, the Abbe Reynal, Dr. Robertson, and tutti qunnti, can be injurious only to himself. "Est il rien de plus fastidicux (says the polite Censor) qu'un M. Gibbon, qui dans son etcrnelle Histoire des Empereurs Romains, suspend a chaque instant son insipide et lente narration, pour vous expliciuer la cause des faits que vous allcz lire ?" (Maniere d'ecrire r Histoire, p. 184. See another passage, p. 280.) Yet I am indebted to the Abbe de Malily for two such advocates as the anonymous French Critic and my friend Mr. Hay ley. (Hayley's Works, Svo. Edit. Vol. ii. p. 261—203.) 252 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IX. ferent nature, a course of anatomy, which was demonstrated by Doctor Hunter, and some lessons of chemistry, wnich were dehvered by i\Ir. Higgins. The principles of these sciences, and a taste for books of natural history, contributed to multiply my ideas and images ; and the anatomist and chemist may sometimes track me in their own snow. 2. 1 dived, perha])s too deeply, into the mud of the Arian controversy ; and many days of reading, thinking, and writing were consumed in the pursuit of a phantom. 3. It is difficult to arrange, with order and perspicuity, the various transactions of the age of Constantine ; and so much was I displeased with the first essay, that I committed to the flames above fifty sheets. 4. The six months of Paris and pleasure must be deducted from the account. But when I resumed my task 1 felt my improvement ; I w^as now master of my style and subject, and while the measure of my daily performance was enlarged, I discovered less reason to cancel or correct. It has always been my practice to cast a long paragraph in a single mould, to try it by my ear, to deposit it in my memory, but to suspend the action of the pen till I had given the last })olish to my work. Shall I add, that I never found my mind more vigorous, nor my composition more happy, than in the winter hurry of society and parliament ? Had I believed that the majority of English readers were so fondly attached even to the name and shadow of Christianity ; had I foreseen that the pious, the timid, and the prudent, would feel, or affect to feel, with such exquisite sensibility j I CHAP. IX. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 253 might, perhaps, have softened the two invidious chapters, which would create many enemies, and conciHate few friends. But the sliaft was shot, the alarm was sounded, and 1 could only rejoice, that if the voice of our priests was clamorous and bitter, their hands were disarmed from the powers of per- secution. I adhered to the wise resolution of trusting myself and my writings to the candour of the public, till Mr. Davies of Oxford presumed to attack, not the faith, but the fidelity, of the historian. My T^indication, expressive of less anger than contempt, amused for a moment the busy and idle metropolis; and the most rational part of the laity, and even of the clergy, appear to have been satisfied of my in- nocence and accuracy. (3) I w^ould not print this Vindication in quarto, lest it should be bound and preserved with the history itself. At the distance of twelve years, I calmly aflfirm my judgment of Davies, Chelsum, &c. A victory over such anta- gonists was a sufficient humiliation. They however were rewarded in this world. Poor Chelsum w^as indeed neglected ; and I dare not boast the making Dr. Watson a bishop ; he is a prelate of a large mind and liberal spirit^': but I enjoyed the pleasure of giving a royal pension to Mr. Davies, and of col- lating Dr. Apthorpe to an archiepiscopal living.* (4<) Their success encouraged the zeal of Taylor^ the 2 See Appendix, Letters, dated 2d and 4tli Nov. 177G; and Jan. 14th, 1779. s The stupendous title, T/iou_s/iis on the Causes of the grand Apos' tacj/, at first agitated my nerves, till I discovered that it was the apos- * M. Suard, who was a gooil mistake : he has translated an Enulish scholar, in his memoir of archiepiscopal living, " la fortune Gibbon, has made a whimsical d'un archeveqne." — M. ^54< MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IX. Arian(5), and Milner the Methodist(6), with many others, whom it would be difficult to remember, and tedious to rclicarse. The list of my adversaries, however, was graced with the more respectable names of Dr. Priestley, Sir David Dairy mple, and Dr. White ; and every polemic, of either university, discharged his sermon or ])amphlet against the im- penetrable silence of the Roman historian. In his History of the Corruptions of Christianity, Dr. Priestley threw down his two gauntlets to Bishop Hurd and Mr. Gibbon. (7) I declined the challenge in a letter, exhorting my opponent to enlighten the world by his philosophical discoveries ^ and to re- member that the merit of his predecessor Servetus is now reduced to a single passage, which indicates the smaller circulation of the blood through the lungs, from and to the heart." Instead of listening to this friendly advice, the dauntless philosopher of Birmingham continued to fire away his double battery against those who believed too little, and those who believed too much. From mj/ replies he has nothing to hope or fear : but his Socinian shield has repeatedly been pierced by the mighty tacy of the whole church, since the Council of Nice, from Mf . Taylor's private religion. His book is a thorough mixture of high enthusiasm and loii' buffoonery, and the Millenium is a fundamental article of his creed. ' From his grammar-school at Kingston upon Hull, Mr. Joseph Milner pronounces an anathema against all rational religion. His faith is a divine taste, a spiritual ins])iration ; /lis church is a mystic and invisible body ; the iinlural Christians, such as Mr. Locke, wiio believe and interpret the Scriptures, are, in his judgment, no better than pro- fane infidels. '' 8ee Correspondence with Dr. Priestley. Appendix, Letters dateil 23d Jan. to 2rA\\ Feb. 1783. 6 Astruc de la Structure du Coeur, tom. i. 77. 79. CHAP. IX. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 255 spear of Horsley, and his trumpet of sedition may at length awaken tlie magistrates of a free country. The profession and rank of Sir David Dahymple (now a Lord of Session) has given a more decent colour to his style. (8) But he scrutinized each se- parate passage of the two chapters with the dry minuteness of a special pleader ; and as he was always solicitous to make, he may have succeeded sometimes in finding, a flaw. In his Annals of Scotland, he has shown himself a diligent collector and an accurate critic. I have praised, and I still praise, the eloquent sermons which were preached in St. Mary's pulpit at Oxford by Dr. White, (9) If he assaulted me with some degree of illiberal acrimony, in such a place, and before such an audience, he was obliged to speak the language of the country. I smiled at a passage in one of his private letters to Mr. Bad- cock ; " The part where we encounter Gibbon must be brilliant and striking." In a sermon preached before the university of Cambridge, Dr. Edwards complimented a work, " which can only perish with the language itself; " and esteems the author a formidable enemy. He is, indeed, astonished that more learning and in- genuity has not been shown in the defence of Israel ; that the prelates and dignitaries of the church (alas, good man !) did not vie with each other, whose stone should sink the deepest in the forehead of this Goliah. " But the force of truth will oblige us to confess, that in the attacks which have been levelled against our sceptical historian, we can discover but slender Q5C) MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IX. traces of profound and exquisite erudition, of solid criticism and accurate investigation ; but we are too frequently disgusted by vague and inconclusive reasoning ; by unseasonable banter and senseless witticisms ; by imbittered bigotry and enthusiastic jargon ; by futile cavils and illiberal invectives. Proud and elated by the weakness of his anta- gonists, he condescends not to handle the sword of controversy. " ^ Let me frankly own that I was startled at the first discharge of ecclesiastical ordinance ; but as soon as 1 found that this empty noise was mis- chievous only in the intention, my fear was con- verted into indignation ; and every feeling of in- dignation or curiosity has long since subsided in pure and placid indifference. (10) The prosecution of my history was soon after- wards checked by another controversy of a very different kind. At the request of the Lord Chan- cellor^ and of Lord Weymouth, then Secretary of State, I vindicated, against the French manifesto, the justice of the British arms. The whole cor- respondence of Lord Stprmont, our late ambassador at Paris, was submitted to my inspection, and the Memoirc Juatificatif, which I composed in French, was first approved by the Cabinet Ministers, and then delivered as a state paper to the courts of Europe. The style and manner are praised by Beaumarchais himself, who, in his private quarrel, attempted a reply ; but he flatters me by ascribing the memoir to Lord Stormont ; and the grossness 7 Monthly Review, Oct. 1700. 8 Sec letter to and from Lord Tlmrlow, in Appendix. CHAP. IX. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 257 of his invective betrays the loss of temper and of wit ; he acknowledged ^ that le style ne seroit pas sans grace, ni la logique sans justesse, &c. if the facts w^ere true which he undertakes to disprove. For these facts my credit is not pledged ; I spoke as a lawyer from my brief, but the veracity of Beaumarchais may be estimated from the assertion that France, by the treaty of Paris (1763 J, was limited to a certain number of ships of war. On the application of the Duke of Choiseul he was obliged to retract this daring falsehood. (11) Among the honourable connections which I had formed, I may justly be proud of the friendship of Mr. Wedderburne, at that time Attorney General, who now illustrates the title of Lord Loughborough, and the office of Chief Justice of the Common Pleas. By his strong recommendation, and the favourable disposition of Lord North, I was ap- pointed one of the Lords Commissioners of Trade and Plantations ; and my private income was en- larged by a clear addition of between seven and eight hundred pounds a-year. The fancy of an hostile orator may paint, in the strong colours of ridicule, " the perpetual virtual adjournment, and the unbroken sitting vacation of the Board of Trade." ^^ But it must be allowed that our duty was not intolerably severe, and that I enjoyed 9 CEuvres de Beaumarchais, torn, iii. p. 299. 355. "^ I can never forget the delight with which that diffusive and inge- nious orator, Mr. Burke, was heard by all sides of the house, and even by those whose existence he proscribed. (See Mr. Burke's speech on the Bill of Reform, p. 72 — 80.) The Lords of Trade blushed at their insignificancy, and Mr. Eden's appeal to the two thousand five hundred volumes of our Reports, served only to excite a general laugh. I take this opportunity of certifying the correctness of Mr. Burke's printed speeches, which I have heard and read. S 258 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IX. many days and weeks of repose without being called away from my library to the office. My acceptance of a place provoked some of the leaders of opposition, with whom 1 had lived in habits of intimacy (12) J and I was most unjustly accused of deserting a party, in which I had never en- listed. (13) The aspect of the next session of parliament was stormy and perilous ; county meetings, pe- titions, and committees of correspondence, an- nounced the public discontent ; and instead of voting with a trium])hant majority, the friends of government were often exposed to a struggle and sometimes to a defeat. The House of Commons adopted Mr. Dunning's motion, *' That the influ- ence of the Crown had increased, was increasing, and ought to be diminished : " and Mr. Burke's bill of reform was framed with skill, introduced with eloquence, and supported by numbers. Our late president, the American Secretary of State, very narrowly escaped the sentence of proscrip- tion ; but the unfortunate Board of Trade was abolished in the committee by a small majority (207 to 199) of eight votes. The storm, however, blew over for a time ; a large defection of country gentlemen eluded the sanguine hopes of the pa- triots ; the Lords of Trade were revived ; admi- nistration recovered their strength and spirit ; and the flames of London, which were kindled by a mischievous madman*, admonished all thinking men of the danger of an a])peal to the people. In the premature dissolution which followed this session * Lord (Tcorge Gordon. CHAP. IX. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 2.59 of parliament I lost my seat. Mr. Elliot was now deeply engaged in the measures of opposition, and the electors of Leskeard^' are commonly of the same opinion as Mr. Elliot. In this interval of my senatorial life, I published the second and third volumes of the Decline and Fall. My ecclesiastical history still breathed the same spirit of freedom ; but protestant zeal is more indifferent to the characters and controversies of the fourth and fifth centuries. My obstinate si- lence had damped the ardour of the polemics. Dr. Watson, the most candid of my adversaries, assured me that he had no thoughts of renewing the attack, and my impartial balance of the virtues and vices of Julian was generally praised. This truce was interrupted only by some animadversions of the Catholics of Italy, and by some angry letters from Mr. Travis, who made me personally responsible for condemning, with the best critics, the spurious text of tlie three heavenly witnesses. The piety or prudence of my Italian translator has provided an antidote against the poison of his original. The 5th and 7th volumes are armed with five letters from an anonymous divine to his friends, Foothead and Kirk, two English students at Rome; and this meritorious service is commended by Monsignor Stonor, a prelate of the same nation, who discovers mucli venom in the fluid and nervous style of Gibbon. The critical essay at the end of the third volume was furnished by the Ab- bate Nicola Spcdalieri, whose zeal has gradually swelled to a more solid confutation in two quarto ' ' The borough which Mr. Gibbon had represented in parliament. S 2 260 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IX. volumes. — Shall I be excused for not having read them ? * The brutal insolence of Mr. Travis's challenge can only be excused by the absence of learning, judg- ment, and humanity; and to that excuse he has the fairest or foulest pretension. Compared with Arch- deacon Travis, Chelsum and Davies assume the title of respectable enemies. The bigoted advocate of popes and monks may be turned over even to the bigots of Oxford ; and the wretched Travis still smarts under the lash of the merciless Porson. I consider Mr. Porson*s an- swer to Archdeacon Travis as the most acute and accurate piece of criticism which has appeared since the days of Bentley. His strictures are founded in argument, enriched with learning, and enlivened with wit ; and his adversary neither de- serves nor finds any quarter at his hands. The evi- dence of the three heavenly witnesses would now be rejected in any court of justice : but prejudice is blind, authority is deaf, and our vulgar bibles will ever be polhited by this s})urious text, '* sedet cEternumque aedebit.** The more learned ecclesias- tics will indeed have the secret satisfaction of re- probating in the closet what they read in the church. I perceived, and without surprise, the coldness and even prejudice of the town; nor could a whis- per escape my ear, that, in the judgment of many * I have observed in the Preface leian ; and on enquiry, I cannot to the History that 1 never could find any London bookseller, not find this translation. It is not in even Mr. Evuns, who ever saw the the British Miisemn or the Bod- book, — M. CHAP. IX. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 26l readers, my continuation was much inferior to the original attempts. An author who cannot ascend will always appear to sink : envy was now pre- pared for my reception, and the zeal of my religi- ous, was fortified by the motive of my political, enemies. Bishop Newton, in writing his own life, was at full liberty to declare how much he himself and two eminent brethren were disgusted by Mr. Gibbon's prolixity, tediousness, and affectation. But the old man should not have indulged his zeal in a false and feeble charge againstthe historian (14), who had faithfully and even cautiously rendered Dr. Burnett's meaning by the alternative of sleep or re- pose. That philosophic divine supposes, that, in the period between death and the resurrection, human souls exist without a body, endowed with internal consciousness, but destitute of all active or passive connection with the external world. " Secundum communem dictionem sacrae scripturse, mors dicitur somnus, et morientes dicuntur obdor- 7nij'e, quod innuere mihi videtur statum mortis esse statum quietis, silentii, et aspyao-/a^." (^De Statu Mortuorum ch. v. p. 98.) I was how^ever encouraged by some domestic and foreign testimonies of applause ; and the se- cond and third volumes insensibly rose in sale and reputation to a level with the first. But the pub- lic is seldom wrong ; and I am inclined to believe that, especially in the beginning, they are more prolix and less entertaining than the first ; my ef- forts had not been relaxed by success, and I had rather deviated into the opposite fault of minute and superfluous diligence. On the Continent, my s S 262 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IX. name and writings were slowly diffused : a French translation of the first voliune had disappointed tlie booksellers of Paris ; and a passage in the third was construed as a personal reflection on the reigning monarch. '- Before J could apply for a seat at the general election the list was already full ; but Lord North's promise was sincere, his recommendation was ef- fectual, and I was soon chosen on a vacancy for the borough of Lymington, in Hampshire. In the first session of the new parliament, administra- tion stood their ground ; their final overthrow was reserved for the second. The American war had once been the favourite of the country : the pride of England was irritated by the resistance of her colonies, and the executive power was driven by national clamour into the most vigorous and coer- cive measures. But the length of a fruitless con- test, the loss of armies, the accumulation of debt and taxes, and the hostile confederacy of France, Spain, and Holland, indisposed the public to the American war, and the persons by whom it was conducted ; the representatives of the people fol- lowed, at a slow distance, the changes of their oi)inion ; and the ministers, who refused to bend, were broken by the tempest. As soon as Lord North had lost, or was about to lose, a majority in i'2 It may not be generally known that Louis the Sixteenth is a great reader, and a reader of" English books. On perusing a passage of my History which seems to com[)are him to Arcadius or Honorius, he ex- pressed his resentment to the Prince of B*****, from whom the in- telligence was conveyed to me. I shall neither disclaim the allusion, nor examine the likeness ; but the situation of the late King of France excludes all susi)iciou of flattery ; and I am ready to declare that the concluding observations of my third volume were written before his ac- cession to the throne. CHAP. IX. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. QGo the House of Commons, he surrendered his office, and retired to a private station, witli the tranquil assurance of a clear conscience and a cheerful tem- per : the old fabric was dissolved, and the posts of government were occupied by the victorious and veteran troops of opposition. The lords of trade were not immediately dismissed, but the board it- self was abolished by Mr. Burke's bill, which de- cency had compelled the patriots to revive ; and I was stripped of a convenient salary, after having enjoyed it about three years. So flexible is the title of my History, that the final asra might be fixed at my own choice : and I long hesitated whether I should be content with the three volumes, the fall of the Western empire, which fulfilled my first engagement with the public. In this interval of suspense, nearly a twelvemonth, I returned by a natural impulse to the Greek authors of antiquity ; I read with new pleasure the Iliad and the Odyssey, the Histories of Herodotus, Thucydides, and Xenophon, a large portion of the tragic and comic theatre of Athens, and many interesting dialogues of the Socratic school. Yet in the luxury of freedom I began to wish for the daily task, the active pursuit, which gave a value to every book, and an object to every inquiry : the preface of a new edition announced my design, and I dropped without reluctance from the age of Plato to that of Justinian. The ori- ginal texts of Procopius and Agathias supplied the events and even the characters of his reign ; but a laborious winter was devoted to the Codes, the Pandects, and the modern interpreters, before s 4 Q64i MEMOIRS OF CHAP. IX. I presumed to form an abstract of the civil law. My skill was improved by practice, my diligence perhaps was quickened by the loss of office ; and, excepting the last chapter, I had finished the fourth volume before I sought a retreat on the banks of the Leman Lake. It is not the purpose of this narrative to expa- tiate on the public or secret history of the times : the schism which followed the death of the Mar- quis of Rockingham, the appointment of the Earl of Shelburne, the resignation of Mr. Fox, and his famous coalition with Lord North. But I may assert with some degree of assurance, that in their political conflict those great antagonists had never felt any personal animosity to each other, that their reconciliation was easy and sincere, and that their friendship has never been clouded by the shadow of suspicion or j ealousy. The most violent or venal of their respective followers embraced this fair oc- casion of revolt, but their alliance still commanded a majority in the House of Commons : the peace was censured. Lord Shelburne resigned, and the two friends knelt on the same cushion to take the oath of secretary of state. From a principle of gratitude I adhered to the coalition ; my vote was counted in the day of battle, but I was overlooked in the division of the spoil. There were many claimants more deserving and importunate than myself: the board of trade could not be restored ; and, while the list of places was curtailed, the number of candidates was doubled. An easy dis- mission to a secure seat at the board of customs or excise was })romiscd on the first vacancy : but th^ CHAP. IX. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. Q65 chance was distant and doubtful ; nor could I so- licit with much ardour an ignoble servitude, which would have robbed me of the most valuable of my studious hours ^•': at the same time the tumult of London, and the attendance on parliament, were grown more irksome ; and, without some ad- ditional income, I could not long or prudently maintain the style of expense to which I was ac- customed. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. No. 1. page 249. In a letter to Mr. Holrojd, Gibbon describes his life at Paris ; — Edivard Gihhon, Esq. to J. Holroyd, Esq. I will try to convey, in a few words, a general idea of my situation as a man of the world, and as a man of letters. You remember that the Neckers were my principal dependance : and the reception which I have met with from them very far surpassed my most sanguine expec- tations. I do not indeed lodge in their house (as it might incite the jealousy of the husband, and procure me a lettre de cachet), but I live 1'' About the same time, it being in contemplation to send a secretary of embassy to Paris, Mr. Gibbon was a competitor for that office. (See Letter to and from Lord Thurlow.) The credit of being distinguished, and stopped by government wiien he was leaving England, the salary of 1200/. a-year, the society of Paris, and the hope of a future provision for life, disposed him to renounce, though with much reluctance, an agreeable scheme on the point of execution ; to engage, without ex- perience, in a scene of business which he never liked ; to give himself a master, or at least a principal, of an unknown, perhaps an unamiabie character : to which might be added, the danger of the recal of the ambassador, or the change of ministry. Mr. Anthony Storer was pre- ferred. Mr. Gibbon was somewhat indignant at the preference j but he never knew that it was the act of his friend Mr. Fox, contrary to the solicitations of Mr. Craufurd, and other of his friends. — S. Q66 memoirs of my life and writings. very much with them, and dine and sup whenever they have company, which is ahnost every day, and whenever I like it, for they are not in the least exigcans. Mr. Walpole gave me an introduction to Madame du DefFand, an agreeable young lady of eighty-two years of age, who has constant suppers, and the best company in Paris. When you see the Duke of Richmond, he will give you an account of that house, where I meet him almost every evening. Ask hun about Madame de Cambis. I have met the Duke of Choiseul at his particular request, dined by accident with Franklin, conversed with the Emperor, been presented at court, and gradually, or rather rapidl}', I find my acquaint- ance spreading over the most valuable parts of Paris. They pretend to like me, and whatever you may think of French professions, I am convinced that some at least are sincere. On the other hand, I feel myself eas}' and happy in their company, and only regret that I did not come over two or three months sooner. Though Paris throughout the summer promises me a very agreeable society, yet I am hurt every day by the departure of men and women whom I begin to know with some familiarity, the departure of officers for their governments and garrisons, of bishops for their dioceses, and even of country gentlemen for their estates, as a rural taste gains ground in this country. So much for the general idea of my acquaintance ; details would be endless, yet un- satisfactory. You may add to the pleasures of society those of the spectacles and promenades, and you will find that I lead a very agreeable life ; let me just condescend to observe, that it is not extravagant. After decking myself out with silks and silver, the ordinary establishment of coach, lodging, servants, eating, and pocket expenses, does not exceed sixty pounds ^jc;- month. Yet I have two footmen in handsome liveries behind my coach, and my apartment is hung with damask. Adieu for the present : I have more to say, but were I to attempt any farther progress, you must wait another post ; and you have already waited long enough, of all conscience. Let me just in two words give you an idea of my day. I am now going (nine o'clock) to the King's library, where I shall stay till twelve ; as soon as I am dressed, I set out to dine with the Duke de Nivernois : shall go from thence to the French comedy, into the Princess de Beauveau's loge grillee, and cannot quite determine whether I shall suj) at Madame du Dcffand's, Madame Necker's, or the Sar- dinian Ambassadress's. Once more adieu. I subjoin the passages from Madame du DefFand's letters, in which she describes the impression made by the person, the manners, the conversation, and the history of Gibbon : — Je suis foit contente de M. Gibbon. Dcpuis huit jours qu'il est arrive, je I'ai vu presque tons les jours : il a la conversation facile, parle tres bien Francois ; j'espere qu'il me sera de grande ressource. Le grand-papa (le Due de Choiseul) a beaucouj) de curiosite de le voir : il CHAP. IX. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 267 a lu ce qu'on a traduit de son histoire, il en est charm c, et doit vcnir domain chez moi ; j'ai pris nies mesures qii'il y trouve M. Gibbon, — Lcttre cclxxv. vol. iii. p. 260. Je ne vous ai point repondu sur M, Gibbon, — j'ai tort : jc Uii crois bcauconp d'esprit, sa conversation est facile et furte de c/ioses, comme disoit Fontenelle ; il me plait bcauconp, d'autant plus qu'il ne nfem- barrasse pas. Je me flatte qu'il est content de moi, c'est a dire, (ju'il me sait gre de la satisfaction que je lui marque de causer avec hii ; je ne m'embarrasse nullement de ce qu'il pense de mon esprit : il me siifTit qu'il ne me trouve pas le ridicule d'y pretendre. — Lettre cclxxvi. p. 2GG. Je m'accommode de plus en plus de M. Gibbon, c'est veritablcment un homme d'esprit ; tons les tons lui sont faciles ; il est aussi Francois ici que MM. de Choiseul, de Beauveau, S:c. — Lettre cclxxvii. p. 270. Je voudrois bien qu'il restat toujours ici. — p. 274. Je fus hier souper a I'Auteuil chez I'ldole : j'y menai M. Gibbon ; je suis toujours contente de son esprit, mais il est pour les beaux esprits comme ttoit Achille pour les couteaux, quand il etoit chez je ne sais quel roi. 11 est alle aujourd'hui au Moulin Joli avec M. Thomas. Je lui rends justice ; on sent moins avec lui qu'avec tout autre qu'il est un auteur. — Lettre cclxxx. vol. iii. p. 278, INIais je vous dis a Torcille que je ne le suis point de I'ouvrage de M. Gibbon ; il est declamatoire, oratoire ; c'est le ton de nos beaux esprits ; il n'y a que des ornemens, de la parure, du clinquant, et point du fond ; je n'en suis qu'a la moitie du premier volume, qui est le tiers de I'in- quarto, a la mort de Pertinax. Je quitte cette lecture sans peine, et il me faut un petit effort pour le repeindre. Je trouve I'auteur assez aimable, mais il a, si je ne me trompe, une grande ambition de la celebrite : il brigue a force ouverte la faveur de tons nos beaux esprits, et il me paroit qu'il se trompe souvent aux jugemens qu'il en porte. Dans la conversation il vent briller, et prendre le ton qu'il croit le notre, et il y reussit assez bien ; il est doux et poli, et je le crois bon homme; je serois fort aise d'avoir plusieurs connoissances comme lui, car a tout prendre, il est superieur a presque tons les gens avec qui je vis. — Lettre cclxxxi. p. 287, M. Gibbon a ici le plus grand succes ; on se I'arrache ; il se conduit fort bien, et sans avoir, je crois, autant d'esprit que feu M. Hume ; il ne tombe pas dans les memes ridicules. Je ne sais pas si tous les jugemens qu'il porte sont bien justes ; mais il se comporte d'une maniere qui ne donne point de prises aux ridicules ; ce qui est fort difficile a eviter dans les societes qu'il frequente. — Lettre cclxxxiv. p. 295. Pour M. Gibbon c'est un homme tres roisonnable, qui a beaucoup de conversation, infiniment de savoir, vous y ajouteriez, peut-etre infiniment d'esprit, et peut-etre auriez-vous raison ; je ne suis pas decidee sur cet article. II fait trop de cas de nos agrcmcns, trop de desir de les acquerir : j'ai toujours eu sur le bout de la laugue de lui dire, "Ne vous tourmcntez pas, vous meritez I'honneur d'etre Francois." En mon particulier j'ai eu toutes sortes de sujets d'etre contente de lui, et il est tres vrai que 268 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. son depart me fache beancoup ; elites liii bien, quand vous le verrez, que je n'ai cesse de vous parler dc lui. Of the Neckers, Madame du DefFand thus expresses herself : *' Le mari a beaucoup d'esprit et de verite ; la femme est roide et froide, pleine d'amour-propre, mais honnete personne." — Madame du DefFand, lettre ccxlv. vol. iii. p. 137. — M. No. 2. page 250. M. Bvffon a M. Gihhon. Ce25 Oct. 1777. Je re9ois, Monsieur, comme une marque precieuse de votre estime et de votre amitie cet excellent ouvrage que je ne connoissois que par la traduction ; je le lirai avec tout I'empressement que me donnent les sentimens que vous m'avez inspire. J'ai souvent admire dans la con- versation les traits de genie que j'aurai le plaisir de voir dans tout son (leveloppement. Recevrez mes remercimens, Monsieur, et les tendres adieux d'un homme qui vous respecte et vous aime autant et plus qu'il ne peut vous i'exprimer. BUFFON. No. 3. page 253. It is remarkable that, in the midst of the indignation of the better part of the community at the publication of the first volumes of the Decline and Fall, the more distinguished theological writers of the country stood aloof, while the first ranks were filled by rash and feeble volunteers. Gibbon, with a single discharge from his ponderous ar- tillery of learning and sarcasm, laid prostrate the whole disorderly squadron. The Davises, the Chelsums, and the Travises shrunk back into their former insignificance. Their plan of attack was as misjudg- ing as their conduct of it was imbecile. With a very slender stock of learning, hurried together for the occasion, they ventured to impeach the accuracy, and to condemn the false quotations, of a scholar whose mind was thoroughly saturated with every kind of knowledge which could bear upon the subject; and they could only make up in spleen and intemperance for their lamentable deficiency in all the true quali- fications for defenders of Christianity. — ]M. in Quarterly Review, Vol. L. p. 293. Dr. Whitaker, in the former article in the Quarterly Review, ob- serves, " With such powers of entertainment and mischief as Gibbon possessed, it was matter of serious complaint that the cause of revela- tion and morality should have fallen into such hands as those of Travis, Chelsum, and Davis." — Quarterly Review, Vol. L. p. 388. Johnson seems to have kept aloof even from expressing an opinion on the controversy. Dr. Percy one day, rather maliciously, led the CHAP. IX. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. Q69 conversation to the applause of Gibbon's " Reply to Davis," with which the town rang ; that the " latter had written before he read ;" and that the two confederate doctors, as Mr. Gibbon termed them, " had fallen into some strange errors." Johnson said he knew nothing of Davis's pamphlet, nor would he give him any answer as to Gibbon ; but if the " confederate doctors, as they were termed, had really made such mistakes, they were blockheads." — Crokcr's Boswell, vol. iv. p. 13G. — M. No. 4. page 253. A sketch of the life and works of Dr. Ajjthorpe may be found in NichoUs's Literary Anecdotes, vol.iii. p. 94. The Letters of Dr. A p- thorpe were only preliminary to the controversy with Gibbon. In fact, he only published a kind of introduction to his reply, which had no reference to Gibbon. He was certainly amply remunerated for his good intentions. " When Mr. Apthorpe's Letters appeared, I was surprised to find, that I had scarcely any interest or concern in their contents. They are filled with general observations on the study of History, with a large and useful catalogue of Historians, and with a variety of reflections, moral and religious, all preparatory to the direct and formal con- sideration of my two last chapters, which Mr. Apthorpe seems to reserve for the subject of a second volume. I sincerely respect the learning, the piety, and the candour of this gentleman, and must con- sider it as a mark of his esteem, that he has thought proper tobegin his approaches at so great a distance from the fortifications which he designed to attack." — Vindic. Miscell. Works, vol. iv. p. 596. — M. No. 5. page 254. The Rev. Henry Taylor was rector of Crawley, Hants, and vicar of Portsmouth. He published several works ; among others, anonymously, the Apology of Ben Mordecai to his friends for embracing Christianity. See NichoUs's Lit. Anec. vol. iii. p. 122. — M. No. 6. page 254. Milner's answer to Gibbon was reprinted at Lincoln, in 1808. Milner treats the talents and erudition of Gibbon with more respect than many of his antagonists, whose religious temperament was less ardent. Milner's History of the Church enjoys an extensive popularity with a considerable class of readers, who are content to accept fervent piety and an accordance with their own religious views, instead of the profound original research, the various erudition and dispassionate judgment which more rational Christians consider indisiicnsable to an historian. In his answer to Gibbon, Milner unfortunately betrays the incapacity of his mind for historical criticism ; when he enters into detail, it is in general on indefensible points, like the Spanish inscrip- 270 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. tion about Nero's persecution, long abandoned Iiy all sound scholars. — M. No. 7. page 254-. [Although Dr. Priestley may not be justified for publishing tlie follow- ing letters, yet as he thought fit to print them with a volume of sermons soon after Mr. Gibbon's death, it will not be improper to insert them in this collection. — S.] Mr. Gibbon to Dr. Priestley. Sir, January 23d, 1783. As a mark of your esteem, I should have accepted with pleasure your History of the Corruptions of Christianity. You have been care- ful to inform me, that it is intended, not as a gift, but as a challenge, and such a challenge you must permit me to decline. At tiie same time you glory in outstripping the zeal of the Mufti and the Lama, it may be proper to declare, that I should equally refuse the defiance of those venerable divines. Once, and once only, the just defence of my own veracity provoked me to descend into the amphitheatre ; but as long as you attack opinions which I have never maintained, or main- tain principles which I have never denied, you may safely exult in iny silence and your own victory. The difference between us, (on the credibility of miracles,) which you choose to suppose, and wish to argue, is a trite and ancient topic of controversy, and, from the opinion which you entertain of yourself and of me, it docs not appear pro- bable that our dispute would cither edify or enlighten the public. That public will decide to whom the invidious name of unbeliever more justly belongs ; to the historian, who, without interposing his own sentiments, has delivered a simple narrative of authentic facts, or to the disputant who proudly rejects all natural proofs of the immor- tality of the soul, overthrows (by circumscribing) the inspiration of the evangelists and apostles, and condemns the religion of every Christian nation, as a fable less innocent, but not less absurd than Mahomet's journey to the third heaven. And now, Sir, since you assume a right to determine the objects of my past and future studies, give me leave to convey to your ear the almost unanimous, and not offensive wish, of the philosophic world — that you would confine 30ur talents and industry to those sciences in which real and useful improvements can be made. Remember the endof your prede- cessor, Servetus, not of his life, (the Calvins of our days arc restrained from the use of the same fiery arguments,) but, I mean, the end of his re- putation. His theological writings are lost in oblivion ; and if his book on the Trinity be still preserved, it is only because it contains the first rudiments of the discovery of the circulation of the blood. I am. Sir, your obedient humble servant. CHAP. IX. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 271 Dr. Priestley to Mr, Gihhon. Sir, Birmingham, 3cl February, 1783. It vvoLikl have been impertinent in me, especially considering the object of my Histonj, to have sent you a copy of it as a mark of my esteem or friends/iip. What I meant was to act the part of a fiiir and open advcrsari/, and I am truly sorry that you decline the discussion I proposed: for though you are of a different opinion, I do not think that either of us could be better employed ; and, siiould the Mufti and the Lama, whose challenge, jou say, you would also decline, become parties in the business, I should rejoice the more. I do not well know what you can mean by intimating, that I am a greater unbeliever than yourself ; that I attack opinions which you never maintained, and maintain principles which you never denied. If you mean to assert, that you are a believer in Christianity, and meant to reconnnend it, I must say, that your mode of writing has been very ill adapted to gain your purpose. If there be any certain method of discovering a man's real object, yours has been to discredit Christianity in fact, while in words you represent yourself as a friend to it : a conduct which I scruple not to call highly unworthy and mean ; an insult on the common sense of the Christian world ; as a method of screening you from the notice of the law, (which is as hostile to me as it is to you,) you must know that it could avail you nothing ; and though that mode of writing might be deemed ingenious and witty in the first inventor of it, it has been too often repeated to deserve that appellation now. According to your own ride of conduct, this charge ought to provoke you to descend into the amphitheatre once more, as nuich as the ac- cusation of Mr. Davis : for it is a call upon you to defend, not your princijjfes only, but also your honour. For what can reflect greater dis- honour on a man, than to say one thing and mean another ? You have certainly been very far from confining yourself) as you pretend, to a simple narrative of authentic facts, without interposing your own sentiments. I hold no opinions, obnoxious as they arc, that I am not ready both to avoiv in the most explicit manner, and also to defend with any person of competent judgment and ability. Had I not con- sidered you in this light, and also as fairly open, by the strain of j'our writings, to such a challenge, I should not have called upon you as I have done. The public will form its own judgment both of that and of your silence on the occasion ; and finally decide between you, the humble historian, and me, the proud disjiutant. As to my reputation, for which you are so very obligingly concerned, give me leave to observe, that, as far as it is an object with any person, and a thing to be enjoyed by himself, it must depend upon his particular notions and feelings. — Now, odd as it will appear to you, the esteem of a very few rational Christian friends (though I know that it will ensure me the detestation of the greater part of the present nominally Christian world that happen to hear me) gives me more real satisfac- tion, than the applause of what you call the philosophic world. I ad- 272 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. mire Servetus, by whose example you wish me to take warning, more for his courage in dying for the cause of important truth, than I should have done if, besides the certain discovery of the circulation of the blood, he had made any other the most celebrated discovery in phi- losophy. However, I do not see what my philosophical friends (of whom I have many, and whom I think I value as I ought) have to do with my metaphysical or theological writings. They may, if they please, con- sider them as my particular whims or amusements, and accordingly neglect them. They have, in fact, interfered very little with my applica- tion to philosophy, since I have had the means of doing it. I was never more busy, or more successfully so, in my philosophical pursuits, than during the time that I have been employed about the History of the Corruptions of Christianity. I am at this very time totus in illis, as my friends know ; and as the Public will know in due time, which with me is never long ; and if you had thought proper to enter into the discussion I proposed, it would not have made me neglect my laboratory, or omit a single experiment that I should otherwise have made. I am. Sir, Your very humble servant, J. Priestley. Mr. Gibbon to Dr. Priestley. Sir, Bentinck-street, February Gth, 1783. Asldo not pretendto judge of the sentiments or intentions of another, I shall not inquire how far you are inclined to suffer, or inflict, martyr- dom. It only becomes me to say, that the style and temper of your last letter have satisfied me of the propriety of declining all further corre- spondence, whether public or private, with such an adversary. I am, Sir, your humble servant. Dr. Priestley to Mr. Gibbon. Sir, Birmingham, February 10th, 1783. I neither requested nor wished to have any ^jrivw/c correspondence with you. All that my MS. card required, was a simple acknowledg- ment of the receipt of the copy of my work. You chose, however, to give me a specimen of your temper and feelings ; and also, what I thought to be an opening to a further call upon you for a justification of yourself in 2)nblic. Of this I was willing to take advantage ; and at the same tune, to satisfy you, that my philosophical pursuits, for which, whether in earnest or not, you were pleased to express some concern, would not be interrupted in consequence of it. As this correspondence, from the origin and nature of it, cannot be deemed vonfidcnliul, I may, especially if I resume my observations on your conduct as an Historian, give the Public an opportunity of judging of the propriety of my answer to your first extraordinary letter, and also to this last truly enigmatical one ; to interpret which requires much more sagacity, than to discover your real intentions with respect CHAP. IX. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 273 to Christianity, though you might think you had carefully concealed them from all human in.spcction. Wishing to hear from you just as little as you please in private, and just as much as you please in public, I aiu, Sir, your humble servant. Ml'. Gihhon to Dr. Priestley. February 2 2d, 1783. If Dr. Priestley consults his friends, he will probably learn, that a " single copy of a paper, addressed under a seal to a single person, and not relative to any public or official business, must always be considered as private correspondence ; which a man of honour is not at liberty to print without the consent of the writer. That consent in the present in- stance, Mr. Gibbon thinks proper to withhold ; and, as he desires to escape all further altercation, he shall not trouble Dr. Priestley or himself with explaining the motives of his refusal. Dr. Priestley to Mr. Gihhon. Birmingham, 25th February, 1783. Dr. Priestley is as unwilling to be guilty of any real impropriety as Mr. Gibbon can wish him to be : but, as the correspondence between them relates not to any private, but only to a j)itblic matter, he appre- hends that it may, according to Mr. Gibbon's own distinction, at the pleasure of either of the parties be laid before the public ; who, in fact, are interested to know, at least, the result of it. Dr. Priestley's con- duct will always be open to animadversion, that of Mr. Gibbon, or of any other person. His appeal is to men of honour, and even men of the world ; and he desires no favour. Dr. Priestley has sent a single copy of the correspondence to a friend in London, with leave to show it to any other common friends, but with a prohibition to take any other copy : but between this vmA printing there is no difference, except in mode and extent. In the eye of the law and of reason both are equally publications; and has Mr. Gibbon never thought himself at liberty to show a copy of a letter to a third person ? Mr. Gibbon may easily escape all further altercation by discontinuing this mutually disagreeable corresi)ondence, by leaving Dr. Priestley to act as his own discretion' or indiscretion may dictate ; and for this, himself only, and not Mr, Gibbon, is responsible. [The pertinacity of Priestley in endeavouring to force Gibbon into a controversy, shows as little wisdom as courtesy ; on the other hand, it would be ludicrous, if it were not offensive, to find Gibbon taunting Priestley with heretical opinions, and appealing to that vulgar and irrational feeling, which would hate the imperfect Christianity of Priestley as cordially as complete infidelity. — M.] T 274 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. No. 8. page 234', The work of Sir David Dalrymple has been of more use to the present editor than any of the replies. — M. No. 9. page 255. The manufacture of these Sermons is a most curious instance of literary copartnership, and I fear it must be added, with regard to him who appropriated the fame and the reward of these celebrated lectures, of literary dishonesty. The parts which belong respectively to Dr. White, to Dr. Biidcock, and to Dr. Parr, may now be easily assigned by those who are curious in such points of literary history. See the pamphlets by Gabriel and White, and Parr's works, vol. vii. — M. No. 10. page 256. It may not be unuseful to give in this place the titles at least, of the principal writings which Gibbon's bold and disingenuous attack on Christianity called forth. These were, I. " Remarks on the Two last Chapters of Mr. Gibbon's History. In a Letter to a Friend." (See Art. 8.) II. " An Apology for Christianity, in a Series of Letters addressed to Edward Gibbon, Esq. By R. Watson, D. D. F.R.S. and Regius Professor of Divinity in the University of Cambridge (now Bishop of Llandaff;)"12mo. 177G. IIL " The History of the Estab- lishment of Christianity, compiled from Jewish and Heathen Authors only. Translated from the French of Professor Bullet, &c. By William Salisbury, B. D. With Notes by the Translator, and some Strictures on Mr. Gibbon's Account of Christianity, and its First Teachers," 8vo. 1776. IV. " A Reply to the Reasonings of Mr. Gibbon in his History, &c. which seem to affect the Truth of Christianity, but have not been noticed in the Answer which Dr. Watson hath given to that Book. By Smyth Loftus, M. A. Vicar of Coolock," 8vo. Dublin, 1778. V. " Letters on the Prevalence of • Christianity, before its Civil Establishment. With Observations on a late History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. By East Apthorpe, M. A. Vicar of Croydon," 8vo. 1778. VI. "An Examina- tion of tlic Fifteenth and Sixteenth Chapters of Mr. (iibbon's History, in which his View of the Progress of the Christian Religion is shown to be founded on the Misrepresentation of the Authors he cites ; and numerous Instances of his Inaccuracy and Plagiarism are produced. By Henry Edward Davies, B.A. of Baliol College, Oxford," 8vo, 1778. VII. " A few Remarks on the History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Relative chiefly to tlie Two last Chapters. By a Gen- tleman," 8vo. VIII. " Remarks on the Two last Chapters of Mr. Gibbon's History. By James Chelsnm, D.D. Student of Christ Church, Oxford, and Ciiaplain to tiie Lord Bishop of Worcester. The Second CHAP. IX. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. ^Tj^ Edition enlarged," I2ino. 1778. This is a second edition of the ano- nymous remarks mentioned in the first article, and contains additional remarks by Dr. Randolph, Lady Margaret's professor of Divinity in the University of Oxford. Mr. Gibbon's Vindication now appeared under the title of " A Vin- dication of some Passages in the Fifteenth and Sixteenth Chapters of the History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. By the Author," 8vo. 1779. This vvas immediately followed by, I. " A Short Appeal to the Public. By a Gentleman who is particularly addressed in the Postscript of the Vindication," Bvo. I779-I780. II. "A Reply to Mr. Gibbon's Vindication, wherein the Charges brought against him in the Examination are confirmed, and further instances given of his Misrepresentation, Inaccuracy, and Plagiarism. By Henry Edward Davies, B. A. of Baliol College, Oxford." 8vo. 178o'. III. " A Reply to Mr. Gibbon's Vindication, &c. containing a Review of the Errors still retained in these Chapters. By James Chelsum, D. D. &c." Bvo. J 785. The other most considerable works levelled at the historj', upon general princi[)les, were, I. " Thoughts on the Nature of the grand Apostacy, with Reflections and Observations on the Fifteenth Chapter of Mr. Gibbon's Historv. By Henry Taylor, Rector of Crawley, and Vicar of Portsmouth in Hampshire, Author of Ben Mordecai's Apology for embracing Christianity," 8vo. 1781-2. II. " Gibbon's Account of Christianity considered ; together with some Strictures on Hume's Dialogues concerning Natural Religion. By Joseph Milner, A. M. Master of the Grammer School of Kingston-upon-Hull," 1781. 8vo. III. Letters to Edward Gibbon, Esq. in Defence of the Authenticity of the 7th Verse of the, 5th Chapter of the First Epistle of St. John. By George Travis, A. M." 1784, 4to.* IV. " An Inquiry into the Secondary Causes which Mr. Gibbon has assigned for the rapid growth of Christianity. By Sir David Dalrymple (Lord Hailes)," 4to. 17SG.— M. No. 11. page 257. An answer to the Memoire Justificatif appeared, written by no less a person than the celebrated John Wilkes. It originally appeared as a number of" The Observer :" but was afterwards privately printed by Wilkes as a " Supplement to the Miscellaneous Works of Edward Gibbon, Esq." Wilkes was probably actuated by political animosity in the original publication ; in the reprint by personal resentment, on * In his third volume Mr. Gibbon took an opportunity to deny the authenticity of the verse 1 John v. 7. " For there are three," &c. In support of this verse, Mr. Archdeacon Travis addressed " Letters to Edward Gibbon, Escj." which were answered by Mr. Professor Porson, and produced a controversy of considerable warmth. T 2 27^ MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. account of the unfavourable notice of his profligate manners and con- versation in the autobiograpliy of Gibbon. (See supra, page IG-i.) As the examination of (iibbon's paper -would not be very interesting to the reader, I have selected, as a literary ciu'iosity (for the tract is now little known), some of the passages which relate to Gibbon's political character. The last which I quote is an amusing instance of the justice and sagacity of political prophecy : — " It is true, Sir, that you are a very late ministerial convert, but your zeal is ardent, and you become so distinguished a figure in the group of placemen and pensioners, that you ought to fix the first atten- tion of The Observer. The Mcmoire Justificalif, which you have circu- lated with much industry as a favourite performance among your friends, would alone entitle you to this, \ierhnps jjcihifid prc-emhieiice. "Your zeal I applaud, the mode of its exertion I reprobate. It was indeed wonderful, that when every true lover of his country shrunk from the present ministerial crfcw, men despised through Europe and abhorred at home, you. Sir, so late as July last, listed under their inglo- rious baimers, and independent in fortune, unencimibered with a family, joined yourself to corruption, imbecility, and infamy, by accepting a seat at the board of trade. " In Sei)tember you gave the world, in our Sovereign's name, the Me- vioire Jnst[ficaHf. I blush for the folly and prodigality of the age, when I reflect that Mr. Gibbon has 1000/. a year for a contemptible compi- lation, and Milton received only 1000/. for his noble Defence of the People of England. What a beautiful consistency of conduct The Observer must remark in our Prince ! ^Ir. Gibbon obtains a place, and the Welsh champion of Christendom, Henry Edward Davies, B. A. of Baliol College, Oxford, who attacked him as an ignorant, but daring, infidel, secures a pension. The avowed atheist, David Hume, was appointed, with a large salary, to represent the sacred person of our most religious King abroad, at the politest court in Europe. The doughty defender of the Kirk of Scotland, Dr. James Beattie, a professor in Lord Bute's luiiversity of Aberdeen, stays at home, and is rewarded with a pension, by the head of the eliurch of England, for having overthrown this mighty David. Surely this must be the richest and most foolish country in the universe ! " Your conversion was not more rapid than unexpected. In the course of the last session you had frequent opportunities of observing the professions and conduct of the minister, and the force of trutii had more than once carried you from him among the minority. The bold Lord Advocate of Scotland testified his surprise at your first vote against liis ministerial friends. You told him, that you had voted with minislrt/ as long as any man of honour could. What change has since happened — except at the board of traile ? What single act of reparation has there been to an injured public ? What new system of measures lias been adopted, to which you are now giving your support ? What other CHAP. IX. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 277 plan have yoi\ undertaken to justify, by accepting the pay of adminis- tration, the very individual administration with which you declared that no vian of liommr cojtid vole the very last session ? " I have now. Sir, finished the irksome task of examining and observing upon your Mcmoire Justificatif, You will acknowledge that I have proceeded no less than yourself sans crainte ct sans JI aft erie, p. 1. In the progress, what compassion have I felt for you, when I reflected on the many weary hovn-s it has cost your learned leisure ! I still more commiserated you for those keen reproaches of conscience, which you must have suffered in an attempt to justify the proceedings of an admi- nistration, which so lately as a man of honour you reprobated. But perhaps the task was commanded by a task-master more cruel than those of Egypt ? Or was it undertaken to divert your attention from the promised second volume of your " History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire?" Such a subject must press with full force on your mind in the present moment, as to this lately flourishing empire. You might possibly with great prudence prefer a period prior to the loss of thirteen powerful colonies, and some rich sugar islands. It would at once soothe your own mind, and gratify the cabal, by the specious and glaring colouring of your eloquence ; but, alas ! how unavailing ! Are we indeed secure of the return of the allegiance of any one of the lately revolted provinces, after all our efforts ? The boundaries of this empire, so gloriously extended by our excellent Trajan, George II., even under his inmiediate successor, on every side'' recede. The neigh- bouring island of Sicily renounces the yoke, and seems ripe for revolt. By the weakness of the King's councils, and intestine discord, the state is shaken and convulsed to its centre. The first prince of the Brunswick line was ?,ty\c(\ fortunate, like the second of the Caesars. In the accla- mations to all the succeeding emperors of Trajan, the formulary vow was, felkior Augusta, mclior Trajano. An Englishman would wish his Sovereign more fortunate than the first George, more excellent than the second. The present reigning Prince, with all the virtues of equity, 'prudence, sincerity, and moderation, must be acknowledged unfortunate. In his reign we have already to lament the narrow, contracted limits, and rapid decline, of the British empire. May heaven avert the storm, which seems to threaten even the dissolution of our state, scarcely to leave a wreck after the mighty ya// of a potent empire under the modern Augustulus !" No. 12. page 258. It has always appeared to me, that nothing could be more unjusti- fiable than the manner in which some persons allowed themselves to speak of Mr. Gibbon's acceptance of an office at the Board of Trade. I can conceive that he may carelessly have used strong expressions in respect to some, or all parties ; but he never meant that such exprcs- T 3 278 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. sions should be taken literally ; and I know, beyond all possibility of question, that he was so far from being " in a state of savage hostility towards Lord North," as it is savagely expressed by Mr, Whitaker*, that he always loved and esteemed him. I saw Mr. Gibbon constantly at this time, and was well acciuainted with all his political opinions. And although he was not perfectly satisfied with cvcrij measure, yet he uniformly supported all the principal ones regarding the American war; and considered himself, and, imlecd, was a friend to Administration to the very period of his accepting office. He liked tiie brilliant society of a club, the most distinguished members of which were notorious for their opposition to Government, and might be led, in some degree, to join in their language ; but Mr. Gibbon had little, I had almost said * The expressions to which Lord Sheffield alludes were thus brought before the public by Mr. Whitaker : — Li June 1781. Mr. Fox's library came to be sold. Amongst his other books, the first volume of Mr. Gibbon's history was brought to the hammer. In the blank leaf of this was a note, in the hand-writing of Mr. Fox ; stating a remarkable declaration of our historian at a well known tavern in Pall Mall, and contrasting it with Mr. Gibbon's poli- tical conduct afterwards. " The Author," it observed, " at Brookes's said, that there was no salvation for this countrt/, until six heads of the PRINCIPAL persons in administration," (Lord North being then prime minister,) " ivn-c laid v])on tJie tabic. Yet," as the observation added, *^ eleven days afterwards, this same gentleman accepted a place of a lord of trade under these very ministers, and lias acted with them ever since." This extraordinary anecdote, thus recorded, very naturally excited the attention of the purchasers. Numbers wished to have in their own possession such an honojuable testimony from Mr. Fox \n favour of Mr. Gibbon. The contention for it rose to a considerable height. And the volume by the aid of this manuscript addition to it, was sold for three guineas. From such a state of savage hostility in Mr. Gibbon, did the rod of this ministerial Hermes charm him down in eleven days only, and change the man who stood, as it were, with an axe in his hand, ready to behead him and five of his associates, into a sure friend, a friend in power ; and now the spirit of ambition is forced to sleep in the breast of Mr Gibbon, and he himself is obliged to retire into Switzerland, a I'riend o7U of it. — Whitaker's Review, p. 20. To no one could the j)ublication of this story be less acceptable than to Mr. Fox, Even if he did write this note in a moment of haste or irritation, no one would be less likely to consider a man responsible for every thoughtless speech, uttered when he was "taking his ease" in his club, particularly where the expressions were so hulicrously exagger- ated, that they could not be understood seriously. Mr. Fox, as appears by (iibbon's letters, met (iibbon suljsequently on the footing of the most cordial and intimate friendship. The exquisite amenity of Mr. Fox's disposition, tiie kindness of his heart, must have been pained at this at- tempt to perpetuate a sentence, written possibly, alter all, rather half jest- ingly than in grave earnest. It is melancholy to see the manly Christian courage, displayed in Mr. Whitaker's early letters, degenerating into personal rancour, and (it is difiicult for the most impartial charity not to suspect) into the bitterness of the wounded pride of authorship. — M. CHAP. IX. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 279 no political, acrimony in his character. If the opposition of that or any other time could claim for tiieir own every person who was not per- fectly satisfied witii all the measures of Government, their party would unquestionably have been more formidable. — S. No. 13. page 258. Fi'om Edward Gibbon^ Esq. to Edward Elliot,' Esq. of Port Elliot {afterwards Lord Elliot.) Dear Sir, 2d July, 1779. Yesterday I received a very interesting communication from my friend the Attorney General*, whose kind and honourable behaviour towards me I must always remember with the highest gratitude. He informed me that, in consequence of an arrangement, a place at the Board of Trade was reserved for me, and that as soon as I signified my acceptance of it, he was satisfied no farther difficulties would arise. My answer to him was sincere and explicit. I told him that I was far from approving all the past measures of the administration, even some of those in which I myself had silently concurred ; that I saw, with the rest of the world, many capital defects in the characters of some of the present ministers, and was sorry that in so alarming a situation of public affairs, the country had not the assistance of several able and honest men who are now in opposition. But that I had not formed with any of those persons in opposition any engagements or connections which could in the least restrain or affect my parliamentary conduct ; that I could not discover among them such superior advantages, either of measures or of abilities, as could make me consider it as a duty to attach myself to their cause; and that I cleai'ly understood, from the public and private language of one of their leaders (Charles Fox), that in the actual state of the country, he himself was seriously of opinion that op- position could not tend to any good purpose, and might be productive of much mischief; that, for those reasons, I saw no objections, which could prevent me from accepting an office under the present government, and that I was ready to take a step which I found to be consistent both with my interest and my honour. It must now be decided, whether I may continue to live in England, or whether I must soon withdraw myself into a kind of philosophical exile in Switzerland. My father left his affairs in a state of embarrass- ment, and even of distress. My attempts to dispose of a part of my landed property have hitherto been disappointed, and are not likely at present to be more successful; and my plan of expense, though moderate in itself, deserves the name of extravagance, since it exceeds * Alexander Wedderburne, since created Lord Loughborough, Earl of Roslin, and Lord Chancellor. T 4 S80 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. mj' real income. The addition of tlie salary which is now offered will make my situation perfectly easy ; but I hope you will do nie the justice to believe that my mind could not be so, unless I were satisfied of the rectitude of my own conduct. Note 14. page 261. Extract from Mr. Gibbon's Common-place Book. Tliomas Newton, Bishop of Bristol and Dean of St. Paul's, was born at Litchfield on the 21st of December, 1703, O. S. (1st January, 1704, N. S.) and died the 1-lth of February, 1782, in the 79th year of his age. A few days before his death he finished the memoirs of his own life, which have been prefixed to an edition of his posthumous works, first pubhshed in quarto, and since (1787) re-published in six volumes octavo. Pp. 173, 174. " Some books' were published in 1781, which em- ployed some of the Bishop's leisure hours, and during his illness. Mr. Gibbon's History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire he read throughout, but it by no means answered his expectation ; for he found it rather a prolix and tedious performance, his matter unin- teresting, and his style affected; his testimonies not to be depended upon, and his frequent scoffs at religion offensive to every sober mind. He had before been convicted of making false ({notations, which should have taught him more prudence and caution. But, without examining his authorities, there is one which must necessarily strike every man who has read Dr. Burnet's Treatise dc Statu JMurtuorum, In vol.iii. p. 99., Mr. G. has the following note : — " Burnet {dc S. J\T. p. 56 — 84.) collects the opinions of tiie Fathers, as far as they assert tiie sleep or repose of human souls till the day of judgment. He afterwards ex- poses (p. 91.) the inconveniences which must arise if they possessed a more active and sensible existence. Who would not from hence infer that Dr. B. was an advocate for the sleep or insensible existence of the soul after death? whereas his doctrine is directly the contrary. He has employed some chapters in treating of tlie state of human souls in tlie interval between death and the resurrection ; and after various proofs from reason, from scripture, and the Fathers, iiis conclusions arc, that human souls exist after their separation from the l)ody, that they are in a good or evil state according to their good or ill behaviour, but that neither their happiness nor their misery will be complete or perfect before the day of judgment. His argujnentatiou is thus sununed up at the end of the 4th chapter — Ex quibiis constat jmmo^ animas superesse extincto corpora ; seciindo, bonas bene, malas male se habituras ; tcrtio, nee illis summam fclicitatem, nee his summam miseriam, accessuram esse ante diem jiidieii. (The Bishop's reading the whole was a greater compliment to the work than was paid to it by two of the most eminent of his brethren for their learning and station. The one entered upon CHAP. IX. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 281 it, but was soon wearied, and laid it aside in disgust : the other returned it upon the bookseller's hands; and it is said that Mr. G. himself hap- pened unluckily to be in the shop at the same time.) Does the Bishop comply with his own precept in the next page ? (p. 175.) "Old age should lenify, should soften men's manners, and make them more mild and gentle ; but often has the contrar}' effect, hardens their hearts, and makes them more sour and crabbed." — He is speaking of Dr. Johnson. Have 1 ever insinuated that preferment-hunting is the great occu- pation of an ecclesiastical life ? (Memoirs, passim) ; that a minister's influence and a bishop's patronage are sometimes pledged eleven deep ? (p. 151.) ; that a prebendary considers the audit week as the better part of the year ? (p. 127.); or that the most eminent of priests, the pope himself, would change their religion, if any thing better could be offered them ? (p. 56.) Such things are more than insinuated in the Bishop's Life, which afforded some scandal to the church, and some diversion to the profane laity. None of the attacks from ecclesiastical antagonists were more malignant and illiberal than some strictures published in the English Review, October, 17&8, &c. and afterwards reprinted in a separate volume, with the signature of .John Whitaker, in 1791. I had men- tioned them to Mr. (iibbon, when first published, but so far was he from supposing them worth his notice, that he did not even desire they should be sent to him, and he actually did not see them till his late visit to England a few months before his death. If Mr. Whitaker had only pointed his bitterness against Mr. Gibbon's opinions, perhaps no intjuiry would have been made into the possible source of his collected viridence, and deliberate malignity. I have in my possession very amicable letters from the Rev. Mr. Whitaker to Mr. Gibbon, written some time after he had read the offensive 15th and 16th chapters of the Decline and Fall. When Mr. Gibbon came to England, in 1787, he read Whitaker's Mary Queen of Scots, and I have hcartl him very incauliousli/ express his opinion of it. Some good'natnrcd friend mentioned it to Mr. Whitaker. It must be an extraordinary degree of resentment that could induce any person, of a liberal mind, to scrape together defamatory stories, true or false, and blend them with the defence of the most benign religion, whose precepts inculcate the very opposite practice. Religion receives her greatest injuries from those champions of the church who, under the pretence of vindicating the (iospel, outrageously violate both the spirit and the letter of it. Mr. Whitaker affects principally to review the fourth, fifth, and sixth volumes, but he has allotted the first month's review to an attack on the first three volumes, or rather on the first, which had been published twelve years and a half before it occurred to him that a review of it was necessary. — S. 282 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. X. CHAP. X. Mr. Gibbon leaves London, and settles at Lausanne, in the House of his Friend M. Deyverdun ; his Reasons for doing so. — Reflections on his change of Situation. — Short Cha- racters of Prince Henry of Prussia and of Mr. Fox, both of lohom he sees at Lausanne. — Proceeds in, and finishes his History. — Interesting Remarks on concluding it. — Pays a Visit to Lord Sheffield iri England. — Remarks on Lord Sheffield's Writings; publishes the remainder oj his History ; returns to Lausanne ; his manner of employ- ing his time. — The Death of M. Deyverdun. — Ob- servations of the Author upon the French Revolution^ the Government of Berne, and his own Situation. — The Memoirs end. From my early acquaintance with Lausanne I had always cherislied a secret wish, that the school of my youth might become the retreat of my de- clining age. A moderate fortune would secure the blessings of ease, leisure, and independence : the country, the people, the manners, the lan- guage, were congenial to my taste ; and I might indulge the hope of passing some years in the do- mestic society of a friend. After travelHng with several English \ Mr. Deyverdun was now settled at home, in a pleasant habitation, the gift of his deceased aunt : we had long been separated, we had long been silent ; yet in my first letter I I 8ir Richard Worslev, Lord Chesterfield, Brodcrick Lord Mid- dletoii, and Mr, Iluine, brother to 8ir Abraham. CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 283 exposed with the most })erfect confidence my situation, my sentiments, and my designs. His immediate answer was a warm and joyful accept- ance ; the picture of our future Hfe provoked my impatience ; and the terms of arrangement were short and simple, as he possessed the property, and I undertook the expense of our common house. Before I could break my English chain, it was in- cumbent on me to struggle with the feelings of my heart, the indolence of my temper, and the opinion of the world, which unanimously con- demned this voluntary banishment. In the dis- posal of my effects, the library, a sacred deposit, was alone excepted. As my post-chaise moved over Westminster Bridge, I bade along farewell to the " fumum etopes strepitumque Romse." My journey by the direct road through France was not at- tended with any accident, and I arrived at Lausanne nearly twenty years after my second departure. Within less than three months the coalition struck on some hidden rocks : liad I remained on board, I should have perished in the general ship- wreck. (1) Since my establislmient at Lausanne, more than seven years have elapsed ; and if every day has not been equally soft and serene, not a day, not a mo- ment, has occurred in which I have repented of my choice. During my absence, a long portion of human life, many changes had happened : my elder acquaintance had left the stage ; virgins were ripened into matrons, and chiklren were grown to the age of manhood. But the same manners were transmitted from one generation to another : my 284 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. X. friend alone was an inestimable treasure ; my name was not totally forgotten, and all were ambitious to welcome the arrival of a stranger and the return of a fellow-citizen. The first winter was given to a general embrace, without any nice discrimination of persons and characters. After a more regular settlement, a more accurate survey, I discovered three solid and permanent benefits of my new si- tuation. 1. My personal freedom had been some- what impaired by the House of Commons and the Board of Trade ; but I was now delivered from the chain of duty and dependence, from the hopes and fears of political adventure : my sober mind was no longer intoxicated by the fumes of party, and I rejoiced in my escape, as often as I read of the midnight debates which preceded the dissolution of parliament. 2. My English economy had been that of a solitary bachelor, who might aftbrd some occasional dinners. In Switzerland I enjoyed at every meal, at every hour, the free and pleasant conversation of the friend of my youth ; and my daily table was always provided for the reception of one or two extraordinary guests. Our impor- tance in society is less a positive than a relative w eight ; in London I was lost in the crowd ; I ranked with the first families of Lausanne, and my style of prudent expense enabled me to maintain a fair balance of reciprocal civilities. 3. Instead of a small house between a street and a stable-yard, I began to occupy a spacious and convenient man- sion, connected on the north side with the city, and open on the south to a beautiful and boundless horizon. A garden of four acres had been laid out CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 285 by the taste of Mr? Deyverdun : from the garden a rich scenery of meadows and vineyards descends to the Leman Lake, and the prospect far beyond the Lake is crowned by the stupendous mountains of Savoy. My books and my acquaintance had been first united in London : but thi^ happy po- sition of my library in town and country was finally reserved for Lausanne. Possessed of every com- fort in this triple alliance, I could not be tempted to change my habitation with the changes of the seasons. My friends had been kindly apprehensive that I should not be able to exist in a Swiss town at the foot of the Alps, after having so long conversed with the first men of the first cities of the world. Such lofty connections may attract the curious, and gratify tlie vain ; but I am too modest, or too proud, to rate my own value by that of my asso- ciates ; and whatsoever may be the fame of learning or genius, experience has shown me that the cheaper qualifications of politeness and good sense are of more useful currency in the commerce of life. By many, conversation is esteemed as a theatre or a school : but, after the morning has been occupied by tlie labours of the library, I wish to unbend rather than to exercise my mind ; and in the in- terval between tea and supper I am far from dis- daining the innocent amusement of a game at cards Lausanne is peopled by a numerous gentry, whose companionable idleness is seldom disturbed by the pursuits of avarice or ambition : the women, though confined to a domestic education, are endowed for the most part with more taste and knowledge than 286 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. X. their husbands and brothers : but the decent freedom of both sexes is equally remote from the extremes of simplicity and refinement. I shall add as a misfortune rather than a merit, that the situ- ation and beauty of the Pays de Vaud, the long habits of the English, the medical reputation of Dr. Tissot, and the fashion of viewing the mountains and Glaciers, have opened us on all sides to the incursions of foreigners. The visits of Mr. and Madame Necker, of Prince Henry of Prussia, and of Mr. Fox, may form some pleasing exceptions ; but, in general, Lausanne has appeared most agree- able in my eyes, when we have been abandoned to our own society. I had frequently seen Mr. Necker, in the summer of 1784, at a country house near Lausanne, where he composed his Treatise on the Administration of the Finances. I have since, in October 1790, visited him in his present residence, the castle and barony of Copet, near Geneva. Of the merits and measures of that statesman various opinions may be entertained ; but all im- partial men must agree in their esteem of his inte- grity and patriotism. In the month of August 1781s Prince Henry of Prussia, in his way to Paris, passed three days at Lausanne. His military conduct has been praised by professional men ; his character has been vi- lified by the wit and malice of a demon " ; but I was flattered by his affability, and entertained by his conversation. Li his tour to Switzerland (September I788) Mr. Fox gave me two days of free and private so- 2 Memoire Secret dc la Cour dc Berlin, par Mir;il)eaii. CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 287 ciety.^ He seemed to feel, and even to envy, the happiness of my situation ; while I admired the powers of a superior man, as they are blended in his attractive character with tlie softness and sim- pHcity of a child. Perhaps no human being was ever more perfectly exempt from the taint of ma- levolence, vanity, or falsehood. My transmigration from London to Lausanne could not be effected without interrupting the course of my historical labours. The hurry of my departure, the joy of my arrival, the delay of my tools, suspended their progress ; and a full twelve- month was lost before I could resume the thread of regular and daily industry. A number of books most requisite and least common had been pre- viously selected ; the academical library of Lau- sanne, which I could use as my own, contained at least the fathers and councils ; and I have derived some occasional succour from the public collections of Berne and Geneva. The fourth volume was soon terminated, by an abstract of the controversies of the Incarnation, which the learned Dr. Prideaux was apprehensive of exposing to profane eyes. It had been the original design of the learned Dean Prideaux to write the history of the ruin of the Eastern Church. In this work it would have been necessary, not only to unravel all those con- troversies which the Christians made about the hypostatical union, but also to unfold all the niceties and subtle notions which each sect enter- tained concerning it. The pious historian was ap- prehensive of exposing tliat incomprehensible 3 See Letter in the Continuation, October 1. 1788, 288 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. X. mystery to the cavils and objections of unbe- lievers ; and he durst not, " seeing the nature of this book, venture it abroad in so wanton and lewd an age."^ In tlie fifth and sixtli volumes the revolutions of the empire and the world are most rapid, various, and instructive ; and the Greek or Roman histo- rians are checked by the hostile narratives of the barbarians of the East and the West.'' It was not till after many designs, and many trials, that I preferred, as I still prefer, the method of grouping my picture by nations ; and the seem- ing neglect of chronological order is surely com- pensated by the superior merits of interest and perspicuity. The style of the first volume is, in my opinion, somewhat crude and elaborate; in the second and third it is ripened into ease, correct- ness, and numbers ; but in the three last I may have been seduced by the facility of my pen, and the constant habit of speaking one language and writing another may have infused some mixture of Gallic idioms. Happily for my eyes, I have always closed my studies with the day, and commonly with the morning ; and a long, but temperate, labour has been accomplished, without fatiguing either the mind or body ; but when I computed the remainder of my time and my task, it was ap- 4 See Preface to the Life of Mahomet, p- 10, 11. 5 I have followed the judicious precept of the Abbe de Mably (Ma- niere d'ccrire I'llistoire, p. 1 10.) who advises the historian not to dwell too minutely on the decay of the Eastern empire ; but to consider the barbarian concjucrors as a more wortliy subject of liis narrative. " Fas est et ab hoste doccri." CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 289 parent that, according to the season of publication, the delay of a month would be productive of that of a year. I was now straining for the goal, and in the last winter many evenings were borrowed from the social pleasures of Lausanne. I could now wish that a pause, an interval, had been allowed for a serious revisal. I have presumed to mark the moment of concep- tion : I shall now commemorate the hour of my final deliverance. It was on the day, or rather night, of the 27th of June 1787> between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a her- ceauy or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country,the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, and all nature was silent. I will not dissemble the first emotions of joy on recovery of my freedom, and perhaps, the establishment of my fame. But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy was spread over my mind, by the idea that I had taken an everlasting leave of an old and agreeable companion, and that whatsoever might be the future date of my History, the life of the historian must be short and precarious. I will add two facts, which have seldom occurred in the composition of six, or at least of five, quartos. 1. My first rough manuscript, without any intermediate copy, has been sent to the press. 2. Not a sheet has been seen by any human eyes, excepting those of the u 290 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. X. author and tlie printer : the faults and the merits are exclusively my own.*^ I cannot lielp recollecting a much more extra- ordinary fact, which is affirmed of himself by lletif de la Bretorme, a vokiminous and original writer of French novels. He laboured, and may still labour, in the humble office of corrector to a printing-house ; but this office enabled him to transport an entire volume from his mind to the press ; and his work was given to the public with- out ever having been written by the pen. After a quiet residence of four years, during which I had never moved ten miles from Lausanne, it was not without some reluctance and terror that I undertook, in a journey of two hundred leagues, to cross the mountains and the sea. Yet this for- midable adventure was achieved without danger or fatigue ; and at the end of a fortnight I found my- self in Lord Sheffield's house and library, safe, ha})py, and at home. The character of my friend (Mr. Ilolroyd) had recommended him to a seat in j)arliament for Coventry, the connnand of a regi- ment of light dragoons, and an Irish peerage. The sense and spirit of his political writings have decided the public opinion on the great questions 6 Ext racl from j\Ir. Gihbcm's Common-place Book. The IVth Voliinie of the History 1 , ht i , .r^ . , . r *i T» r 1 T- n 4- .1 I bcOTn JNlarch ], 1782 — ended of the Dcchiie ami rail ot the!- ^ ,,.,,, <-■■"!,« lloinan Empire J J""'^i'«-i- The Vth Volmiie f begun July 1 784 - ended May y 1. 1/8G. The Vlth VoU.mc -I ''T" ^^^Jol' ^^'^^ " '^"'"'■'J L June 2/. 1787. These tluce volumes were sent to press August 15. 1787, and the whole impression was concluded April following. CHAr. X. MY LIFE AND WHITINGS. 291 of our commercial interest with America and Ireland/ Tlie sale of his Observations on the American States was diffusive, their effect beneficial ; the Navigation Act, the pahadium of Britain, was de- fended, and perhaps saved, by his pen ; and he proves, by the weight of fact and argument, that the mother-country may survive and flourish after the loss of America. My friend has never culti- vated the arts of composition ; but his materials are copious and correct, and he leaves on his paper the clear impression of an active and vigorous mind. His " Observations on the Trade, Manufactures, and present State of Ireland'* were intended to guide the industry, to correct the prejudices, and to assuage the passions of a country which seemed to forget that she could be free and prosperous only by a friendly connection with Great Britain. The concluding observations are written with so much ease and spirit, that they may be read by those who are the least interested in the subject. He felP (1784) with the unpopular coalition ; but his merit has been acknowledged at the last general election, 1790, by the honourable invita- tion and free choice of the city of Bristol.'' During the whole time of my residence in England, I was entertained at Sheffield-Place and in Downing- ■? Observations on the Commerce of the American States, by Jobn Lord ShefTield, the Gth edition, London, 1784, in 8vo. « It is not obvious from whence he fell ; he never held nor desired anj' office of emolument whatever, unless his military commissions, and the command of a regiment of light dragoons, which he raisetl himself, and which was disbanded on the peace in 1783, should be deemed such. '■> See a Letter from Mr. Gibbon to Lord Sheffield, Lausanne, August 7. 1790. U ^2 292 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. X. street, by his liospitablc kindness ; and the most pleasant period was that which I passed in the domestic society of the family. In the larger circle of the metropolis I observed the country and the inhabitants with the knowledge, and with- out the prejudices, of an Englishman; but I re- joiced in the apparent increase of wealth and pros- perity, which might be fairly divided between the spirit of the nation and the wisdom of the minister. All party resentment was now lost in oblivion ; since I was no man's rival, no man was my enemy. I felt the dignity of independence, and as I asked no more, I was satisfied with the general civilities of the world. The house in London which I fre- quented with most pleasure and assiduity was that of Lord North. After the loss of power and of sight, he was still happy in himself and his friends, and my public tribute of gratitude and esteem could no longer be suspected of any interested motive. Before my departure from England, I was present at the august spectacle of Mr. Hastings's trial in Westminster Hall. It is not my province to absolve or condemn the Governor of India ^"; but Mr. Sheridan's eloquence commanded my ap- plause ; nor could I hear without emotion the personal compliment which he paid me in the presence of the British nation." '" lie considered ihc persecution of that highly respectable person to have arisen from party views. — S. 11 He said the facts that made up the volume of narrative were un- paralleled in atrociousness, and that nothing equal in criminality was to be traced, either in ancient or modern history, in the correct periods of Tacitus or the luminous page of Gibbon.* — Aloniiiig Chronic/e, June 14. 1788. * Did no "good-natured friend" this "personal compliment" — "I impart to Gibbon the malicious turn meant to say voluminous." — M. which the wit, in private, gave to CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 293" From this display of genius, which blazed four successive days, I shall stoop to a very mechanical circumstance. As I was waiting in the manager's box, I had the curiosity to inquire of the short- hand writer, how many words a ready and rapid orator might pronounce in an hour? From 7000 to 7''500 was his answer. The medium of 7200 will afford 120 words in a minute, and two words in each second. But this computation will only apply to the English language. As the publication of my three last volumes was the principal object, so it was the first care of my English journey. The previous arrangements with the bookseller and the printer were settled in my passage through London, and the proofs which I returned more correct, were transmitted every post from the press to Sheffield-Place. The length of the operation, and the leisure of the country, allowed some time to review my manuscript. Several rare and useful books, the Assises de Jerusalem, Ramusius de Bello C. P^'°, the Greek Acts of the Synod of Florence, the Statuta Urbis Roma3, &c. were procured, and I introduced in their proper places the supplements which they afforded. The impression of the fourth volume had consumed three months. Our common interest required that we should move with a quicker pace ; and Mr. Strahan fulfilled his engagement, which few printers could sustain, of delivering every week three thousand copies of nine sheets. The day of publi- cation was, however, delayed, that it might coin- cide with the fifty-first anniversary of my own birth-day j the double festival was celebrated by a u 3 294 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. X. cheerful literary dinner at Mr. Cadell's house; and I seemed to blush while they read an elegant com- pliment from Mr. IIayley(2), whose poetical talents had more than once been employed in the praise of his friend. Before Mr. Hayley inscribed with my name his epistles on history(3), I was not ac- quainted with that amiable man and elegant poet. He afterwards thanked me in verse for my second and third volumes (4); and in the summer of 1781, the Roman Eagle (5) (a proud title) accepted the invitation of the English Sparrow, who chirped in the groves of Eartham, hear Chichester. As most of the former purchasers were naturally desirous of completing their sets, the sale of the quarto edition was quick and easy; and an octavo size was printed to satisfy at a clieaper rate the public demand. The conclusion of my work was generally read, and variously judged. The style has been exposed to much academical criticism ; a religious clamour was revived, and the reproach of indecency has been loudly echoed by the rigid censors of morals. - 1 never could understand the clamour that has been raised against the indecency of my three last vo- lumes.* 1. An equal degree of freedom in the former part, especially in the first volume, had passed without reproach. 2. I am justified in painting the manners of the times ; the vices of Theodora form an essential feature in the reign and character of Justinian ; and the most naked tale in my history is told by the Rev. Mr. Joseph Warton, an instructor of youth. (Essay on the Genius and * The editor cannot agree in cessary to direct particular at- this excuI[);ition of (iibbon, but to tcntion to passages which are justify his opinion it would be nc- better left unnoticed. — M. CIIAr. X. MY LITE AND WRITINGS. 295 Writings of Pope, p. 322—324.) 3. My English text is chaste, and all licentious passages are left in the obscurity of a learned language. Le Latin dans ses mots brave riionnctetc, says the correct Boileau, in a country and idiom more scrupulous than our own. Yet, upon the whole, the History of the Decline and Fall seems to have struck root, both at home and abroad, and may, perhaps, a hundred years hence still continue to be abused. I am less flattered by Mr. Porson's high encomium on the style and spirit of my history, than I am satisfied with his honourable testimony to my attention, diligence, and accuracy ; those humble virtues, which religious zeal had most audaciously denied. The sweetness of his praise is tempered by a rea- sonable mixture of acid. '-(6) As the book may not be common in England, I shall transcribe my own character from the Bibliotheca Historicaof Meuse- lius'^ a learned and laborious German : — " Summis aevi nostri historicis Gibbonus sine dubio adnume- randus est. Inter Capitolii ruinas stans primum hujus operis scribendi consilium cepit. Floren- tissimos vitae annos colligendo et laborando eidem impendit. Enatum inde monumentum a}re per- ennius, licet passim appareant sinistre dicta, minus perfecta, veritati non satis consentanea. Videmus quidem ubique fere studium scrutandi veritatemque scribendi maximum : tamen sine Tillemontio duce, ubi sciUcet Imjus historia finitur, sa?pius nostertitu- bat atque hallucinatur. Quod vel maxime fit, ubi de rebus Ecclesiasticis vel de juris prudentia '•- See his preface, page 28. 3-2. 13 Vol, iv. parti, page 342. 344. U 4 29t> MEMOIRS OF CHAP. X. Romana (torn, iv.) tradit, et in aliis locis. Attamen nsevi hujus generis hand impediunt quo minus operis summam et oiJiovQ[xiav praeclarc dispositam, delectum rerum sapientissimum, argutum quoque interdum, dictionemque seu stylum historico aeque ac philosopho dignissimum, et vix a quoque alio Anglo, Humio ac Robertsono hand exceptis {prce- reptum ?\ vehementer laudemus, atque sasculo nostro de hujusmodi historia gratulemur Gibbonus adversarios cum in tum extra patriam nactus est, quia propagationem religionis Chris- tiana% non, ut vulgo fieri solet, aut more Theolo- gorum, sed ut Historicum et Philosoplium decet, exposuerat." The Frencli, Italian, and German translations, have been executed with various success ; but, instead of patronising, I should willingly suppress such imperfect copies, which injure the character, while they propagate the name of the author. The first volume had been feebly, though faithfully, translated into French by M. Le Clerc de Sept- chenes, a young gentleman of a studious character and liberal fortune. After his decease the work was continued by two manufacturers of Paris, MM. Desmuniers and Cantwell ; but the former is now an active member of the National Assembly, and the undertaking languishes in the hands of his associate.* The superior merit of the inter- preter, or his language, inclines me to prefer the Jtahan version : but I wish that it were in my power to read the German, which is praised by the best judges. The Irish pirates are at once my * The French translation has by the masterly hand of M.Guizot. now been corrected and re-edited — M. CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 297 friends and my enemies. But I cannot be dis- pleased with the two numerous and correct im- pressions which have been pubUshed for the use of the Continent at Basil in Switzerland.'^ The conquests of our language and literature are not confined to Europe alone, and a .writer who succeeds in London, is speedily read on the banks of the Delaware and the Ganoes. In the preface of the fourth volume, while I gloried in the name of an Englishman, I announced my approaching return to the neighbourhood of the Lake of Lausanne. This last trial confirmed my assurance that I had wisely chosen for my own happiness ; nor did I once in a year's visit, enter- tain a wish of settling in my native country. Britain is the free and fortunate island ; but where is the spot in which I could unite the comforts and beauties of my establishment at Lausanne? The tumult of London astonished my eyes and ears ; the amusements of public places were no longer adequate to the trouble ; the clubs and assemblies were filled with new faces and young men ; and our best society, our long and late dinners, would soon have been prejudicial to my health. Without any share in the })olitical wheel, I must be idle and insignificant : yet the most splendid temptations would not have enticed me to engage a second time in the servitude of parlia- ment or office. At Tunbridge, some weeks after the publication of my History, I reluctantly '^ Of their fourteen octavo volumes the two last include the whole body of the notes. The public importunity had forced mc to remove them from the end of the volume to the bottom of the page ; but I have often repented of my compliance. 298 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. X. quitted Lord and Lady Sheffield, and with a young Swiss friend '"^ w^hom I had introduced to the English world, I pursued the road of Dover and Lausanne. My habitation was embellished in my absence, and the last division of books, which followed my steps, increased my chosen library to the number of between six and seven thousand volumes. My seraglio was ample, my choice was free, my appe- tite was keen. After a full repast on Homer and Aristophanes, I involved myself in the philosophic maze in the writings of Plato, of which the dramatic is, perhaps, more interesting than the argumentative part ; but I stepped aside into every path of inquiry wdiich reading or reflection accidentally opened. Alas ! the joy of my return, and my studious ardour were soon damped by the melancholy state of my friend Mr. Deyverdun. His health and spirits had long suffered a gradual decline, a suc- cession of apoplectic fits announced his dissolution, and before he expired, those who loved him could not wish for the continuance of his life. The voice of reason might congratulate his deliverance, but the feeUngs of nature and friendship could be subdued only by time : his amiable character was still alive in my remembrance ; each room, each walk was imprinted with our common footsteps ; and I should blush at my owai philoso))hy, if a long interval of study had not preceded and fol- lowed the death of my friend. By his last will he left to me the option of })urchasing his house and garden, or of possessing them during my life, on 15 M. Milliclin dc Severy. CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 299 the payment eitlier of a stipulated price, or of an easy retribution to his kinsman and heir. I sliould probably have been tempted by the daemon of property, if some legal difficulties had not been started against my title ; a contest would have been vexatious, doubtful, and invidious ; and the heir most gratefully subscribed an agreement, whicli rendered my life possession more perfect, and his future condition more advantageous."' Yet I had often revolved the judicious lines in which Pope answers the objections of his long-sighted friend, — Pity to build without or child or wife ; Why, you'll enjoy it only all your life : Well, if the use be mine, does it concern one, Whether the name belong to Pope or Vernon ? The certainty of my tenure has allowed me to lay out a considerable sum in improvements and alter- ations : they have been executed with skill and taste ; and few men of letters, perhaps, in Europe, are so desirably lodged as myself. But I feel, and with the decline of years I shall more painfully feel, that I am alone in paradise. Among the circle of my acquaintance at Lausanne, I have gradually acquired the solid and tender friendship of a respectable family'^ ; the four persons of whom it is composed are all endowed with the virtues best adapted to their age and situation ; and I am encouraged to love the parents as a brother, and the children as a father. Every day '" See Mr. Gibbon's Letters, 14th July, August, 7th Sept., 9th Sept., 1789. 17 The fiimily of do Scverv, 300 MEMOIRS OF CHAP. X. we seek and find the opportunities of meeting : yet even this valuable connection cannot supply the loss of domestic society. Within the last two or three years our tran- quillity has been clouded by the disorders of France ; many families at Lausanne were alarmed and af- fected by the terrors of an impending bankruptcy ; but the revolution, or rather the dissolution of the kingdom, lias been heard and felt in the adjacent lands. I beg leave to subscribe my assent to Mr. Burke's creed on the revolution of France. I admire his eloquence, I approve his politics, I adore his chivalry, and I can almost excuse his reverence for church establishments. I have some- times thought of writing a dialogue of the dead, in which Lucian, Erasmus, and Voltaire should mutually acknowledge the danger of exposing an old superstition to the contempt of the blind and fanatic multitude. A swarm of emigrants of both sexes, who escaped from the public ruin, has been attracted by the vicinity, the manners, and the language of I-,ausannc ; and our narrow habitations in town and country, are now occupied by the first names and titles of the departed monarchy.''^ These noble fugitives are entitled to our pity ; they may claim our esteem, but they cannot, in their present state of mind and fortune, much contribute to our amusement. Instead of looking down as calm and idle spectators on the theatre of Europe, our do- i» See Mr. Gil)l)on'.s Letters, 15tli Dec. 1789, ditto 1790, 5th Oct. 1792, 13th Oct. 1792, 20th Oct. 1792, 10th Nov. 1792. CHAP. X. IVIY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 301 mestic harmony is somewhat embittered by the infusion of party spirit : our ladies and gentlemen assume the character of self-taught politicians ; and tlie sober dictates of wisdom and experience are silenced by the clamour of the triumphant democrates. The fanatic missionaries of sedition have scattered the seeds of discontent in our cities and villages, which have flourished above two hundred and fifty years, without fearing the approach of war, or feeling the weight of govern- ment. Many individuals, and some communities, appear to be infected with the Gallic phrenzy, the wild theories of equal and boundless freedom ; but I trust that the body of the people will be faithful to their sovereign and to themselves ; and I am satisfied that the failure or success of a revolt would equally terminate in the ruin of the country. While the aristocracy of Berne protects the hap- piness, it is superfluous to inquire whether it be founded in the rights of man : the economy of the state is liberally supplied, without the aid of taxes ; and the magistrates must reign with pru- dence and equity, since they are unarmed in the midst of an armed nation. The revenue of Berne, excepting some small duties, is derived from church lands, tithes, feudal rights, and interest of money. The republic has nearly 500,000/. sterling in the English funds, and the amount of their treasure is unknown to tlie citizens themselves. For myself (may the omen be averted !) I can only declare, that the first stroke of a rebel drum would be the signal of my imme- diate departure. 30^ MEMOIRS OF CHAP. X. When I contemplate the common lot of mortality, I must acknowledge that I have drawn a high prize in the lottery of life. The far greater part of the globe is overspread with barbarism or slavery ; in the civilised world, the most numerous class is condemned to ignorance and poverty ; and the double fortune of my birth in a free and enlightened country, in an honourable and wealthy family, is the lucky chance of an unit against millions. The general probability is about three to one, that a new-born infant will not live to complete his fiftietli year.'-' I have now passed that age, and may fairly estimate the present value of my ex- istence in the three-fold division of mind, body, and estate. 1. The first and indispensable requisite of hap- piness is a clear conscience, unsullied by the reproach or remembrance of an unworthy action. Hic iminis aheneus esto, Nil conscirc sibi, nulla pallesccrc culpa. I am endowed with a cheerful temper, a mo- derate sensibility, and a natural disposition to repose rather than to activity ; some mischievous appetites and habits have perhaps been corrected by philo- sophy or time. The love of study, a passion which derives fresh vigour from enjoyment, supplies each day, each hour, wath a perpetual source of inde- pendent and rational pleasure ; and I am not sen- sible of any decay of the mental faculties. The '9 See Buffon, Siipplc-ment a I'TTistoire Naturclle, torn. vii. page 158 — 164 : of a given number of new-born infants, one lialf, by the fault of nature or man, is cxtinguislied before the age of [)ul)erty and reason — A melancholy c ilculation ! CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. 303 original soil has been highly improved by cultiva- tion ; but it may be questioned, whether some flowers of fancy, some grateful errors, have not been eradicated with the weeds of prejudice. 2. Since I have escaped from the long perils of my childhood, the serious advice of a physician has seldom been requisite. " The madness of super- fluous health " I have never known, but my tender constitution has been fortified by time, and the in- estimable gift of the sound and peaceful slumbers of infancy, may be imputed both to the mind and body. 3. I have already described the merits of my society and situation ; but these enjoyments would be tasteless or bitter if their possession were not assured by an annual and adequate supply. According to the scale of Switzerland, I am a rich man ; and I am indeed rich, since my income is superior to my expense, and my expense is equal to my wishes. My friend Lord Sheffield has kindly relieved me from the cares to which my taste and temper are most adverse : shall I add, that since the failure of my first wishes, I have never enter- tained any serious thoughts of a matrimonial con- nection ? I am disgusted with the affectation of men of letters, who complain that they have renounced a substance for a shadow, and that their fame (which sometimes is no insupportable weight) affords a poor compensation for envy, censure, and perse- cution.^** My own experience, at least, has taught 90 Mr. d'Alembert relates, tluvt as he was walking in the gardens of Sans Souci with the King of Prussia, Frederic said to him, " Do you see that old woman, a poor weeder, asleep on that sunny bank ? she is probably a more happy being than either of us." The king and the philosopher may speak for themselves ; for my part, I do not envy the old woman. 30i< MEMOIRS OF CHAP. X. me a very different lesson : twenty happy years have been animated by tlie labour of my history, and its success has given me a name, a rank, a cha- racter, in the world, to which I should not other- wise have been entitled. The freedom of my writings has indeed provoked an implacable tribe ; but, as I was safe from the stings, I was soon ac- customed to the buzzing of the hornets: my nerves are not tremblingly alive, and my literary temper is so happily framed, that I am less sensible of pain than of pleasure. The rational pride of an author may be offended, rather than flattered, by vague indiscriminate praise ; but he cannot, he should not, be indifferent to the fair testimonies of private and public esteem. Even his moral sympathy may be gratified by the idea, that now, in the present hour, he is imparting some degree of amusement or knowledge to his friends in a distant land ; that one day his mind will be familiar to the grand- children of those who are yet unborn.^' I cannot boast of the friendship or favour of princes ; the pa- tronage of English literature has long since been de- volved on our booksellers, and the measure of their liberality is the least ambiguous test of our common 21 In the first of ancient or modern romances (Tom Jones) tliis proud sentiment, this feast of fancy, is cnjo)'cd by the genius of Fielding. — " Come, bright love of fame, &c. fill my ravished fancy with the hopes of charming ages yet to come. Foretel me that some tender maid, whose grandmother is yet unborn, hereafter, when, under the fictitious name of Sojihia, she reads the real worth which once existed in my (!harlotte, shall from her sympathetic breast send forth the heaving sigh. Do thou teach me not only to foresee but to enjoy, nay even to feed on futnre praise. Comfort me by the solenui assurance that, when the little parlour in which I sit at this moment, shall be reduced to a worse furnished box, 1 shall be read with honour by those who never knew nor saw nie, and whom I shall neither know nor see." Book xiii. chap. 1. CHAP. X. MY LIFE AND WiilliNGS. 305 success. Perhaps tlie golden mediocrity of my fortune has contributed to fortify my application. The present is a fleeting moment, the past is no more ; and our prospect of futurity is dark and doubtful. This day may pn.ssiblij be my last : but the laws of probability, so true in general, so falla- cious in particular, still allow about fifteen years.-^ I shall soon enter into the period which, as the most agreeable of his long life, was selected by the judgment and experience of the sage Fon- tenelle. His choice is approved by the eloquent historian of nature, who fixes oiu' moral happiness to the mature season, in which our passions are sup- posed to be calmed, our duties fulfilled, our ambi- tion satisfied, our fame and fortune established on a solid basis.-^ In private conversation, that great and amiable man added the weight of his own experience ; and this autumnal felicity might be exemplified in the lives of Voltaire, Hume, and many other men of letters. I am far more in- clined to embrace than to dispute this comfortable doctrine. I will not suppose any premature decay of the mind or body; but I must reluctantly observe that two causes, the abbreviation of time, and the failure of hope, will always tinge with a browner shade the evening of life.^^ 22 Mr. Biiffon, from our disregard of the possibility of death within the four-and-twcnty hours, concludes that a chance, which falls below or rises above ten thousand to one, will never affect the hopes or fears of a reasonable man. The fact is true, but our courage is the effect of thoughtlessness, rather than of reflection. If a public lottery were drawn for the choice of an immediate victim, and if our name were inscribed on one of the ten thousand tickets, should we be perfectly easy ? 23 See Buffon. 2* The proportion of a part to the whole is the onlv standard by which we can measurj the length of our existence. At the age of X 306 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. No. 1. page 283. Edward Gibbon, Esq. to the Uight Hon. Lord Sluffield. It is needless to repeat the reflections which we have sometimes de- bated together, and which I have often seriously weighed in my silent solitary walks. Notwithstanding your active and ardent spirits, you must allow that there is some perplexity in my present situation, and that my future prospects are distant and cloudy. I have lived too long in the world to entertain a very sanguine idea of the friendship or zeal of ministerial patrons ; and we are all sensible how much the powers of patronage are reduced, ****** At the end of the Parliament, or rather long before that time (for their lives are not worth a year's purchase), our ministers are kicked down stairs, and I am left their disinterested friend, to fight through another opposition, and to expect the fruits of another revolution. But I will take a more favourable supposition, and conceive myself in six months firmly seated at the Board of Customs ; before the end of the next six months 1 should infallibly hang myself. Instead of re- gretting my disappointment, I rejoice in my escape ; as I am satisfied that no salary could pay me for the irksomeness of attendance, and the twenty, one year is a tenth, perhaps, of the time which has elapsed within our consciousness and memory : at the age of fifty it is no more than the fortieth, and this relative value continues to decrease till the last sands are shaken by the hand of deatii. This reasoning may seem metaphysical ; but on a trial it Mall be found satisfactory and just. The warm desires, the long expectations of youth are founded on the ignorance of themselves and of the workl : they are gradually damped by time and experience, by disappointment and possession ; and after the middle season the crowd nuist be content to remain at the foot of the mountain ; while the few who have climbed the summit aspire to de- scend or expect to fall. In old age the consolation of hope is reserved for the tenderness of parents who connnence a new life in their chil- dren ; the faith of enthusiasts, who sing hallehijahs above the clouds; and the vanity of autiiors, who presume the immortality of their name and writings.* * It is melancholy to think that which his confessed inability to Gibbon found no place for the comprehend the real nature, con- confulcnce with wliicli the rational firms, rather than weakens, his Christian looks forward to the en- humble reliance on its certainty, joyment of another and a higher — M. state of existence; that state of CHAP. X. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 307 drudgery of business so repugnant to my taste (and I will dare to say) so unworthy of my character. Without looking forwards to the possi- bility, still more remote, of exchanging that laborious office for a smaller annuity, there is surely another plan, more reasonable, more simple, and more pleasant ; a temporary retreat to a quiet and less expensive, scene. In a four years' residence at Lausanne, I should live within my income, save, and even accumulate, my ready money ; finish my History, an object of profit, as well as fame, expect the contingencies of elderly lives, and return to England at the age of fifty, to form a lasting inde- pendent establishment, without courting the smiles of a minister, or apprehending the downfal of a party. Such have been my serious sober reflections. Yet I much question, whether I should have found courage to follow my reason and my inclination, if a friend had not stretched his hand to draw me out of the dirt. The twentieth of last May I wrote to my friend Deyverdun, after a long interval of silence, to expose my situation, and to consult in what manner I might best arrange my- self at Lausanne. From his answer, which I received about a fortnight ago, I have the pleasure to learn, that his heart and his house are both open for my reception ; that a family which he had lodged for some years is about to leave him, and that at no other time my company could have been so acceptable and convenient- I shall step at my arrival into an excellent apartment and a delightful situation ; the fair division of our expenses will render them very moderate, and I shall pass my time with the companion of my youth, whose temper and studies have always been congenial to my own. I have given him my word of honour to be at Lausanne in the beginning of October, and no power or persuasion can divert me from this irrevocable reso- lution, which I am every day proceeding to execute. No. 2. page 294'. OCCASIONAL STANZAS, fji/ Mr. Hayley, read after the dinnet at Mr. Cadell's, May 8. 1 788 ; bcbig the day of the jntblication of llie three last volumes of M.r. Gibbon's History, and his birth-day. Genii of Exglaxd, and of Rome ! In mutual triumph here assume The honours each may claim ! This social scene with smiles survey! And consecrate the festive day To Friendship and to Fame ! Enough, by Desolation's tide, With anguish, and indignant pride. Has Rome bewail'd her fate ; And mourn'd that Time, in Havoc's hour. Defaced each monument of power To speak her truly great ; X 2 308 MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. O'er niainrd Polybius, just and sage, O'er Livy's mutilated page, How deep was her regret ! Touch'd by this Queen, in ruin grand. See ! Glory, by an English hand. Now pays a mighty debt : Lo ! sacred to the Roman Name, And raised, like Rome's immortal Fame, By Genius and by Toil, The splendid Work is crown'd to-day. On which Oblivion ne'er shall prey. Not Envy make her spoil ! England, exult ! and view not now With jealous glance each nation's brow. Where History's palm has spread ! In every path of liberal art. Thy Sons to prime distinction start. And no superior dread. Science for Thee a Newton raised ; For thy renown a Shakspeare blazed. Lord of the drama's sphere ! In different fields to equal praise See History now tliy GIBBON raise To shine without a peer ! Eager to honour living worth. And bless to-day the double birth, That proudest joy may claim. Let artless Truth this homage pa}', And consecrate the festive day To Friendship and to Fame ! No. 3. page'ig^. Gibbon's manifest delight at the flat adulation of his poetical admirer is better proof of his gratitude than of his taste. The following pleasing thought relieves the general dulness of Hayley's eulogy on Gibbon, in his " Essay on History." After denouncing the polemic rancour of Gibbon's adversaries, he begins himself blandly to remonstrate against the profane tendency of his writings. Humility herself, divinely mild, Sublime Religion's meek and modest child, Like the dumb son of Croesus in the strife, W^here Force assail'd his father's sacreil life. Breaks silence, and with filial duty warm, Bids thee revere her parent's hallow'd form. Essay on History, iii. 379. M. CHAP. X. NOTES AND ADDITIONS. 309 No, 4. page 294. SONNET TO EDWARD GIBBON, Esq. On the publication of his Second and Third Volumes, 1781. With proud delight th' imperial founder gazed On the new beauty of his second Rome, When on his eager eye rich temples blazed, And his fair city rose in youthful bloom : A pride more noble may thy heart assume, O Gibbon ! gazing on thy growing work. In which, constructed for a happier doom. No hasty marks of vain ambition lurk : Thou may'st deride both Time's destructive swa}', And baser Envy's beauty-mangling dirk ; Thy gorgeous fabric, plann'd with wise delay, Shall baffle foes more savage than the Turk ; As ages multiply, its fame shall rise. And earth must perish ere its splendour dies. No. 5. page 294. A CARD OF INVITATION TO MR. GIBBON AT BRIGHTHELMSTONE, 1781. An English sparrow, pert and free, Who chirps beneath his native tree, Hearing the Roman eagle's near, And feeling more respect than fear, Thus, with united love and awe. Invites him to his shed of straw. Tho' he is but a twittering sparrow, The field he hops in rather narrow. When nobler plumes attract his view He ever pays them homage due, He looks with reverential wonder. On him whose talons bear the thunder j Nor could the Jackdaws e'er inveigle His voice to vilify the eagle, Tho' issuing from the holy towers, In which they build their warmest bowers, Their sovereign's haunt they slyly search. In hopes to catch him on his perch (For Pindar says, beside his God The thunder-bearing bird will nod), Then, peeping round his still retreat. They |)ick from underneath his feet X 3 SIO MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS. Some molted feather he lets fall. And swear he cannot fly at all. Lord of the sky ! whose pounce can tear These croakers, that infest the air, Trust him I tlic sparrow loves to sing The praise of thy imperial w ing I He thinks thou'lt deem him, on liis word. An honest, though famihar bird ; And hopes thou soon wilt condescend To look upon thy Httle friend ; That he may boast around his grove A visit from the bird of Jove. No. 6. page 295. "Mr. Gibbon's industry is indefatigable ; his accuracy scrupulous ; his reading, which is sometimes ostentatiously displayed, immense ; his at- tention always awake ; his memory retentive ; his style emphatic and expressive ; his sentences harmonious ; his reflections are just and pro- found ; nor does his humanity ever slumber, unless when women are ravished, or the Christians ^^ersecuted. He often makes, when he can- not find, an occasion to insult our religion, which he hates so cordially that he might seem to revenge some personal injury. Such is his eagerness in the cause, that he stoops to the most despicable pun, or to the most awkward perversion of language, for the pleasure of turning the Scripture into ribaldry, or of calling Jesus an impostor. Though his style is in general correct and elegant, he sometimes draws out " the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument." In endeavoiu-ing to avoid vulgar terms he too frequently dignifies trifles, and clothes common thoughts in a splendid dress, that would be rich enough for the noblest ideas. In short, we are too often reminded of that great man, Mr. Prig the auctioneer, whose manner was so inimi- tably fine, that he had as much to say upon a ribbon as a Kaphael. " A less pardonable fliult is that rage for indecency which pervades the whole work, but especially the last volumes; ami to the honour of his consistency, this is the same man who is so prudish that he does not call Belisarius a cuckold, because it is too bad a word for a decent historian to use. If the history were anonymous, I should guess that those disgraceful obscenities were written by some debauchee, who, having from age, or accident, or excess, survived the practices of lust, still indulged himself in the luxury of speculation, and exposed the im- potent imbecillity, after he had lost the vigonr,of his passions." — Porson, Letters to Travis. Gibbon showed some forbearance in his allusion to the " bitter-sweet" of this criticism. The professor's own habits, and, unless he is much belied, the style of his conversation, laid him open to some retaliation, when he assumed the tone of a moral and religious censor. — M. 311 When I first undertook to prepare Mr. Gibbon's Memoirs for the press, I supposed that it would be necessary to introduce some continuation of them, from the time when they cease, namely, soon after his return to Switzerland in the year I788 ; but the examination of his correspondence with me sug- gested, that the best continuation would be the publication of his letters from that time to his death. I shall thus give more satisfliction, by em- ploying the language of Mr. Gibbon, instead of my own ; and the public will see him in a new and admirable light, as a writer of letters. By the in- sertion of a few occasional sentences, I shall ob- viate the disadvantages that are apt to arise from an interrupted narration. A prejudiced or a fasti- dious critic may condemn, perhaps, some parts of the letters as trivial ; but many readers, I flatter myself, will be gratified by discovering, even in these, my friend's affectionate feelings, and his cha- racter in familiar life. His letters in general bear a strong resemblance to the style and turn of his conversation ; the characteristics of which were vivacity, elegance, and precision, with knowledge astonishingly extensive and correct. He never ceased to be instructive and entertaining ; and in general there was a vein of pleasantry in his con- versation which })revented its becoming languid, X 4 31^2 even diiriiiij!; ii residence of many months with a family in the country. It has been supposed that he always arranged what he intended to say before he spoke ; his quickness in conversation contradicts this notion : but it is very true, that before he sat down to write a note or letter, he completely arranged in his mind what he meant to express. He pursued the same method in respect to other composition ; and he occasionally would walk several times about his apartment before he had rounded a period to his taste. He has pleasantly remarked to me, that it sometimes cost him many a turn before he could tinow a sentiment into a form that gratified his own criticism. His systematic habit of arrange- ment in point of style, assisted, in his instance, by an excellent memory and correct judgment, is much to be recommended to those who aspire to perfection in writing. Although the Memoirs extend beyond the time of Mr. Gibbon's return to Lausanne, I shall insert a few letters, written immediately after his arrival there, and combine them so far as to include even the last note which he wrote a few days previously to his death. Some of them contain few incidents ; but they connect and carry on the account either of his opinions or of his employment. — S. 313 LETTERS FROM EDWARD GIBBON, ESQ. TO THE RIGHT HON. LORD SHEFFIELD. Lausanne, July 30. 1788. — Wednesday, 3 o'clock.. I HAVE but a moment to say, before the departure of the post, that after a very pleasant journey I ar- rived here about half an hour ago ; that I am as well arranged as if I had never stirred from this place ; and that dinner on the table is just announced. Severy I dropt at his country-house about two leagues off. I just saluted the family, who dine with me the day after to-morrow, and return to town for some days, I hope weeks, on my account. The son is an amiable and grateful youth ; and even this journey has taught me to know and to love him still better. My satisfaction would be com- plete, had I not found a sad and serious alteration in poor Deyverdun : but thus our joys are che- quered ! I embrace all ; and at this moment feel the last pang of our parting at Tunbridge. Convey this letter or information, without delay, from Sheffield-place to Bath. In a few days I shall write more amply to both places. 314 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON October I. 1788. After such an act of vigour as my first letter, composed, finished, and dispatched within half an hour after my landing, while the dinner was smo- king on the table, your knowledge of the animal must have taught you to expect a proportionable degree of rekixation ; and you will be satisfied to hear, that, for many Wednesdays and Saturdays, I have consumed more time than would have suf- ficed for the epistle, in devising reasons for pro- crastinating it to the next post. At this very mo- ment I begin so very late, as I am just going to dress, and dine in the country, tiiat I can take only the benefit of tlie date, October the first, and must be content to seal and send my letter next Saturday. October -ith. Saturday is now arrived, and I much doubt whether I shall have time to finish. I rose, as usual, about seven : but as I knew I should have so much time, you know it would have been ridi- culous to begin any tiling before breakfast When I returned from my breakfast-room to the library, unluckily I found on the table some new and in- teresting books, which instantly caught my atten- tion ; and without injuring my correspondent, I could safely bestow a single hoiu' to gratify my curiosity. Some things which I found in them insensibly led me to other books, and other in- quiries ; the morning has stolen away, and I shall be soon summoned to dress and dine with the two Severys, father and son, who are returned from the TO LORD .SHEFFIELD. 315 country on a disagreeable errand, an illness of Madame, from which she is however recovering. Such is the faithful picture of my mind and man- ners, and from a single day disce omnes. After having been so long chained to the oar, in a splen- did galley indeed, I freely and fliirly enjoy my li- berty as I promised in my preface ; range without control over the wide expanse of my library ; con- verse, as my fancy prompts me, with poets and his- torians, philosophers and orators, of every age and language ; and often indulge my meditations in the invention and arrangement of mighty works, which I shall probably never find time or application to execute. My garden, berceau, and pavilion often varied the scene of my studies ; the beautiful weather which we have enjoyed exhilarated my spirits, and I again tasted the wisdom and happiness of my retirement, till that happiness was interrupted by a very serious calamity, which took from me for above a fortnight all thoughts of study, of amuse- ment, and even of correspondence. I mentioned in my first letter the uneasiness I felt at poor Deyverdun's declining health, how much the plea- sure of my life was embittered by the sight of a suffering and languid friend. The joy of our meeting appeared at first to revive him ; and though not satisfied, I began to think, at least to hope, that he was every day gaining ground ; when, alas ! one morning I was suddenly recalled from my berceau to the house, with the dreadful intelli<»:ence of an apoplectic stroke ; I found him senseless : the best assistance was instantly collected ; and he had the aid of the genius and experience of 3lG LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON Mr. Tissot, and of the assiduous care of another physician, who for some time scarcely quitted his bedside either niglit or day. While I was in momentary dread of a relapse, with a confession from his physicians that such a relapse must be fatal, you will feel that I was much more to be pitied than my friend. At length, art or nature triumphed over the enemy of life. I was soon assured that all immediate danger was past ; and now for many days 1 have had the satisfaction of seeing him recover, though by slow degrees, his health and strength, his sleep and appetite. He now walks about the garden, and receives his par- ticular friends, but has not yet gone abroad. His future health will depend very much upon his own prudence : but, at all events, this has been a very serious warning ; and the slightest indisposition will hereafter assume a very formidable aspect. But let us turn from this melancholy subject. The Man of the People escaped from the tumult, the bloody tumult of the Westminster election, to the lakes and mountains of Switzerland, and I was informed that he was arrived at the Lyon d'Or. I sent a compliment; he answered it in per- son, and settled at my liouse for the remainder of the day. I have eat and drank, and conversed and sat up all niglit, with Fox in England; but it never has happened, perhaps it never can happen again, that I should enjoy him as I did that day, alone, from ten in the morning till ten at night. Poor Deyverdun, before his accident, wanted spirits to appear, and has regretted it since. Our conver- sation never flagged a moment ; and he seemed TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 317 thoroughly pleased with the place and with his company. We had little politics ; though he gave me, in a few words, such a character of Pitt, as one great man should give of another his rival : much of books, from my own, on which he flat- tered me very pleasantly, to Homer and the Arabian Nights : much about the coimtry, my garden (which he understands far better than I do), and, upon the whole, I think he envies me, and would do so were he a minister. The next morning I gave him a guide to walk him about the town and country, and invited some company to meet him at dinner. The following day he con- tinued his journey to Berne and Zurich, and I have heard of him by various means. The people gaze on him as a prodigy, but he shows little in- clination to converse with them. The wit and beauty of his companion are not sufficient to ex- cuse the scandalous impropriety of showing her to all Europe ; and you will not easily conceive how he has lost himself in the public opinion, which was already more favourable to his rival. Will Fox never learn the importance of character ? — Far different has been the conduct of our friend Douglas ' ; he has been curious, attentive, agree- able ; and in every place where he has resided some days, he has left acquaintance who esteem and regret him ; I never knew so clear and gene- ral an impression. After this long letter I have yet many things to say, though none of any pressing consequence. I hope you are not idle in the deliverance of Beri- 1 Lord Glenbervie. 318 BETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON ton, though the hite events and edicts in France begin to reconcile me to the possession of dirty acres. What think you of Necker and tlie States General? Arc not the public expectations too sanguine ? Adieu. I will write soon to my lady separately, though I have not any particular sub- ject for her ear. Ever yours. Lausanne, Nov. 29. 1788. As I have no correspondents but yourself, I should have been reduced to the stale and stupid com- munications of the newspapers, if you had not dis- patched me an excellent sketch of the extraordinary state of things. In so new a case the salus populi must be the first law ; and any extraordinary acts of the two remaining branches of the legislature must be excused by necessity, and ratified by general consent. Till things are settled, I expect a regular journal. From kingdoms I descend to farms. * * # * * * #^ Adieu. Lausanne, Dec. 13. 1788. * *. Of public affairs I can only hear with curiosity and wonder ; careless as you may think me, I feel myself deeply interested. You must now write often ; make Miss Firth copy any cu- rious fragments ; and stir up any of my well-in- formed acquaintance, Batt, Douglas, Adams, per- haps Lord Loughborough, to correspond with me ; I IV ill answer them. We are now cold and gay at Lausanne. The TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 319 Severys came to town yesterday. I saw a good deal of Lords Malmsbury and Beauchamp, and their ladies' ; Ellis, of the RolHad, was with them ; I like him mucli : I gave them a dinner. Adieu for the present. Deyverdun is not worse. Lausanne, April 25. 1789. Before your letter, which I received yesterday, I was in the anxious situation of a king, who hourly expects a courier from his general, with the news of a decisive engagement. I had abstained from writing, for fear of dropping a word, or be- traying a feeling, which might render you too cautious or too bold. On the famous 8th of April, between twelve and two, I reflected that the busi- ness was determined ; and each succeeding day I computed the speedy approach of your messenger, with favourable or melancholy tidings. When I broke the seal I expected to read, " What a damned unlucky fellow you are ! Nothing tole- rable was offered, and I indignantly withdrew the estate." I did remember the fate of poor Lenbo- rough, and I was afraid of your magnanimity, &c. It is whimsical enough, but it is human nature, that I now begin to think of the deep-rooted found- ations of land, and the airy fabric of the funds. I not only consent, but even wish to have, eight or ten thousand pounds on a good mortgage. The pipe of wine you sent to me was seized, and would 1 George Ellis, Esq. at a later period the friend of Sir Walter Scott. (See Lockhart's Life.) It is remarkable that, with JNIr. Ellis should have ori- ginated the two, perhaps most successful, collections of political poetry in the language, the RoUiad and the poetry of the Aiitijacobin. The change in the times will account for their different political views. — M. 320 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON have been confiscated, if the government of Berne had not treated me with the most flattering and distinguislied civihty : they not only released the wine, but they paid out of their own pocket the shares to which the bailiff and the informer were entitled by law. I should not forget that the bailiff refused to accept of Jiis })art. Poor Deyver- dun's constitution is quite broken ; he has had two or three attacks, not so violent as the first ; every time the door is hastily opened, I expect to hear of some fatal accident : the best or worst hopes of the physicians are only that he may linger some time longer ; but if he lives till the summer, thev propose sending him to some mineral waters at Aix, in Savoy. You will be glad to hear that 1 am now assured of possessing, during my life, this delightful house and garden. The act has been lately executed in the best form, and the hand- somest manner. I know not what to say of your miracles at home ; we rejoice in the king's reco- very, and its ministerial consequences ; and I can- not be insensible to the hope, at least the chance, of seeing in this country a first lord of trade, or secretary at war. In your answer, which I shall impatiently expect, you will give me a full and true account of your designs, which by this time must have dropt, or be determined at least, for the present year. If you come, it is high time that we should look out for a house — a task much less easy than you may possibly imagine. Among new books, I recommend to you the Count de Mirabeau's great work, '* Sur la Monarchic Prus- siennc ; " it is in your own way, and gives a very TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 321 just and complete idea of that wonderful machine. His " Correspondence Secrete '* is diabolically good. Adieu. Ever yours. Lausanne, June 13. 1789. You are in truth a wise, active, indefatigable, and inestimable friend ; and as our virtues are often connected with our failings, if you were more tame and placid you would be perhaps of less use and value. A very important and difficult transaction seems to be nearly terminated with success and mutual satisfaction : we seem to run before the wind with a prosperous gale ; and unless we should strike on some secret rocks which I do not foresee, shall, on or before the 31st of July, enter the harbour of Content ; though I cannot pursue the metaphor by adding we sliall land^ since our operation is of a very opposite tendency. I could not easily forgive myself for shutting you up in a dark room with parchments and attorneys, did I not reflect that this probably is the last material trouble that you will ever have on my account ; and that after the labours and delays of twenty years, I shall at last attain what I have always sighed for, a clear and competent income, above my wants, and equal to my wishes. In this con- templation you will be sufficiently rewarded. I hope ***** will be content with our title-deeds, for I cannot furnish another shred of parchment. Mrs. Gibbon's jointure is secured on the Beriton estate, and her legal consent is requisite for the sale. Again and again I must repeat my hope that she is perfectly satisfied, and that the close of her Y ^22 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON life may not be embittered by suspicion, or fear, or discontent. What new security does she prefer, — the funds, the mortgage, or your land? At all events she must be made easy. I wrote to her again some time ago, and begged that if she were too weak to write, she would desire Mrs. Gould or Mrs. Holroyd to give me a line concerning her state of health. To this no answer : I am afraid she is displeased. Now for the disposal of the money : I approve of the 8,000/. mortgage on Beriton ; and honour your prudence in not showing, by the comparison of the rent and interest, how foolish it is to pur- chase land, *#*#*##* There is a chance of my drawing a considerable sum into this country, for an arrangement which you yourself must approve, but wliich I have not time to explain at present. For the sake of dispatching, by this evening's post, an answer to your letter which arrived this morning, I confine myself to the needful ; hut in the course of a few days, I will send a more familiar epistle. Adieu. Ever yours. Lausanne, July 14. 1789. Poor Deyverdun is no more ; he expired Satur- day the 4th instant ; and in his unfortunate situ- ation, death could only be viewed by himself, and by his friends, in the light of a consummation devoutly to be wished. Since September he has had a dozen apopletic strokes, more or less violent : in the intervals between them his strength gradu- TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 323 ally decayed ; every principle of life was exliausted ; and had he continued to drag a miserable existence, he must probably have survived the loss of his fa- culties. Of all misfortunes this was what he him- self most apprehended ; but his reason was clear and calm to the last ; he beheld his aj)proaching dissolution with the firmness of a philosopher. I fancied that time and reflection had prepared me for the event : but the habits of three-and-thirty years' friendship are not so easily broken. The first days, and more especially the first nights, were indeed painful. Last Wednesday and Satur- day it would not have been in my power to write. I must now recollect myself, since it is necessary for me not only to impart the new^s, but to ask your opinion in a very serious and doubtful ques- tion, which must be decided without loss of time. I shall state the facts, but as I am on the spot, and as new lights may occur, I do not promise implicit obedience. Had my poor friend died without a will, a female ^r.S'^ cousin settled somewhere in the north of Germany, and whom I believe he had never seen, would have been his heir at law. In the next degree he had several cousins ; and one of these, an old companion, by name Mr. de Mon- tagny, he has chosen for his heir. As this house and garden was the best and clearest part of poor Deyverdun's fortune ; as there is a heavy duty or fine (what they call /or/.s) on every change of pro- perty out of the legal descent ; as Montagny has a small estate and a large family, it was necessary to make some provision in his flwour. The will Y 2 324 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON therefore leaves me the option of enjoying this place during my life, on paying the sum of 2.50/. (I reckon in English money) at present, and an annual rent of 80/.; or else, of purchasing the house and garden for a sum whicli, including the duty, will amount to 2,500/. If I value the rent of 30/. at twelve years' purchase, I may acquire my enjoyment for life at about the rate of 600/. ; and the remaining 1,900/. will be the difference between tliat tenure and absolute perpetual pro- perty. As you have never accused me of too much zeal for the interest of posterity, you will easily guess which scale at first preponderated. I deeply felt the advantage of acquiring for the smaller sum, every possible enjoyment, as long as I my- self should be capable of enjoying : I rejected with scorn, the idea of giving 1,900/. for ideal posthumous property ; and I deemed it of little moment whose name, after my death, should be inscribed on my house and garden at Lausanne. How often did I repeat to myself the philoso- phical lines of Pope, which seem to determine the question : Pray Heaven, cries Swift, it last as 3011 go on ; I wisii to God tliis house had been jour own. Pity to build without or son or wife; Why, you'll enjoy it <»i/j/ all your life. Well, if the use be mine, docs it concern one. Whether the name belong to Pope or Vernon ? In this state of self-satisfaction I was not much disturbed by all my real or nominal friends, who exhort me to prefer the right of purchase : among such friends, some are careless and some are igno- rant ; and the judgment of those who are able and TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 325 willing to form an opinion, is often biassed by some selfish or social affection, by some visible or invisible interest. But my own reflections have gradually and forcibly driven me from my first pro- pensity ; and these reflections I will now proceed to enumerate : 1. I can make this purchase with ease and pru- dence. As I have had the pleasure of not hearing from you very lately, I flatter myself that you ad- vance on a carpet road, and that almost by the receipt of this letter (July 31st) the acres of Beriton will be transmuted into sixteen thousand pounds : if the payment be not absolutely com- pleted by that day, ****** will not scruple, I sup- pose, depositing the 2,600/. at Gosling's, to meet my draught. Should he hesitate, I can desire Darrel to sell quantum sufficit of my short annuities. As soon as the new settlement of my affairs is made, I shall be able, after deducting this sum, to square my expense to my income, &c. 2. On mature consideration, I am perhaps less selfish and less philosophical than I appear at first sight ; indeed, were I not so, it would now be in my power to turn my fortune into life-annuities, and let the Devil take the hindmost. I feel (per- haps it is foolish), but I feel that this little para- dise will please me still more when it is absolutely my own ; and that I shall be encouraged in every improvement of use or beauty, by the prospect that, after my departure, it will be enjoyed by some person of my own choice. I sometimes reflect with pleasure, tiiat my writings will sur- Y 3 3^6 LETTERS FROINI MR. GIBBON vive me ; and that idea is at least as vain and chimerical. 3. The heir, ]\Ir. de Montagny, is an old ac- quaintance. My situation of a life-holder is rather new and singular in this country : the laws have not provided for many nice cases which may arise between the landlord and tenant ; some I can foresee, others have been suggested, many more I might feel when it would be too late. His right of property might plague and confine me ; he might forbid my lending to a friend, inspect my conduct, check my imjn'ovements, call for secu- rities, repairs, &c. But if I purchase, I walk on my own terrace fierce and erect, the free master of one of the most delicious spots on the globe. Should I ever migrate homewards (you stare, but such an event is less improbable than I could have thought it two years ago), this place would be disputed by strangers and natives. Weigh these reasons, and send me without delay a rational explicit opinion, to which I shall pay such regard as the nature of circumstances will allow But alas ! wlien all is determined, I shall possess this house, by whatsoever tenure, without friendsliip or domestic society. I did not imagine, six years ago, that a plan of life so congenial to my wishes, would so speedily vanish. I cannot write upon any other subject. Adieu. Yours ever. Lausanne, August, 1789. After receiving and dispatching tlie power of attorney last Wednesday, I opened, with some palpitation, the unexpected missive which arrived TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 327 this morning. The perusal of the contents spoiled my breakfast. Tliey are disagreeable in them- selves, alarming in their consequences, and pecu- liarly unpleasant at the present moment, when I hoped to have formed and secured the arrange- ments of my future life. I do not perfectly understand what are these deeds which are so in- flexibly required ; the wills and marriage- settle- ments I have sufficiently answered. But your arguments do not convince * * * *, and I have very little hope from the Lenborough search. What will be the event ? If his objections are only the result of legal scrupulosity, surely they might be removed, and every chink might be filled, by a general bond of indemnity, in which I boldly ask you to join, as it will be a substantial important act of friendship, without any possible risk to yourself or your successors. Should he still remain obdurate, I must believe, what I already suspect, that *** * repents of his purchase, and wishes to elude the conclusion. Our case would be then hopeless, ibi omnis effusus labor, and the estate would be returned on our hands with the taint of a bad title. The refusal of mortgage does not please me ; but surely our offer shows some con- fidence in the goodness of my title. If he will not take eight thousand pounds at Jour per cent, we must look out elsewhere : new doubts and delays will arise ; and I am persuaded that you will not place an implicit confidence in any attorney. I know not as yet your opinion about my Lausanne purchase. If you are against it, the present position of affairs gives you great advantage, &c. &c. The Y 4 S28 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON Severys are all well ; an uncommon circumstance for the four persons of the family at once. They are now at Mex, a country-house six miles from hence, which I visit to-morrow for two or three days. They often come to town, and we shall contrive to pass a part of the autumn together at Rolle. I want to change the scene ; and beautiful as the garden and prospect must appear to every eye, I feel that the state of my own mind casts a gloom over them ; every spot, every walk, every bench, recalls the memory of those hours, of those conversations, which will return no more. But I tear myself from the subject. I could not help writing to-day, though I do not find I have said any thing very material. As you must be conscious that you have agitated me, you will not postpone any agreeable or even decisive intelligence. I almost hesitate, whether I shall run over to England, to consult with you on the spot, and to fly from poor Deyverdun's shade, which meets me at every turn. 1 did not expect to have felt his loss so sharply. But six hundred miles ! Why are we so far off? Once more. What is the difficulty of the title? Will men of sense, in a sensible country, never get rid of the tyranny of lawyers ? more oppressive and ridiculous than even the old yoke of the clergy. Is not a term of seventy or eighty years, nearly twenty in my own person, sufficient to prove our legal j)ossession ? Will not the records of fines and recoveries attest that / am free from any bar of entails and settlementsi* Consult some sage of the law, whether their present demand be ne- TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 329 cessary and legal. If your ground be firm, force them to execute the agreement or forfeit the deposit. But if, as I much fear, they have a right and a wish to elude the consummation, would it not be better to release them at once, than to be hung up for five years, as in the case of Lovegrove, which cost me in the end four or five thousand pounds ? You are bold, you are wise ; consult, resolve, act. In my penultimate letter I dropped a strange hint, that a migration homeward was not impossible. I know not what to say ; my mind is all afloat ; yet you will not reproach me with caprice or inconstancy. How many years did you damn my scheme of retiring to Lausanne? I exe- cuted that plan ; I found as raucii happiness as is compatible with human nature, and during four years (1783 — 178?) I never breathed a sigh of repentance. On my return from England the scene was changed: I found only a faint semblance of Deyverdun, and that semblance was each day fading from my sight. I have passed an anxious year, but my anxiety is now at an end, and the prospect before me is a melancholy solitude. I am still deeply rooted in this country ; the possession of this paradise, the friendship of the Severys, a mode of society suited to my taste, and the enor- mous trouble and expense of a migration. Yet in England (when the present clouds are dispelled) I could form a very comfortable establishment in London, or rather at Bath ; and I have a very noble country-seat at about ten miles from East Grin- stead in Sussex.^ That spot is dearer to me than ' Alluding to Sheffield-place. 330 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON the rest of the three kingdoms ; and I have some- times wondered how two men, so opposite in their tempers and pursuits, should have imbibed so long and lively a propensity for each otlier. Sir Stanier Porten is just dead. He has left his widow with a moderate pension, and two children, my nearest relations : the eldest, Charlotte, is about Louisa's age, and also a most amiable sensible young crea- ture. I have conceived a romantic idea of educat- ing and adopting her ; as we descend into the vale of years, our infirmities require some domestic female society : Charlotte would be the comfort of my age, and I could reward her care and ten- derness with a decent fortune. A thousand diffi- culties oppose the execution of the plan, wliich I have never opened but to you ; yet it would be less impracticable in England than in Switzerland. Adieu. I am wounded ; pour some oil into my wounds : yet I am less unhappy since I have thrown my mind upon paper. Are you not amazed at the French revolution ? They have the power, will they have the modera- tion, to establish a good constitution? Adieu. Ever yours. Lausanne, Sept. 9. 1789. Within an hour after the reception of your last, I drew my pen for the purpose of a reply, and my exordium ran in the following words : " I find by experience, that it is mucli more rational, as well as easy, to answer a letter of real business by the return of the post." This important truth is again verified by my own example. After writing three TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 331 pages I was called away by a very rational motive, and the post departed before I could return to the conclusion. A second delay was coloured by some decent pretence. Three wrecks have slipped away, and I now force myself on a task, which I should have dispatched without an effort on the first sum- mons. ]\Iy only excuse is, that I had little to write about Englisli business, and that I could write nothing definitive about my Swiss affairs. And first, as Aristotle says of the first, 1. I was indeed in low spirits when I sent what you so justly style my dismal letter ; but I do assure you, that my own feelings contributed much more to sink me, than any events or terrors relative to the sale of Beriton. But I again hope and trust from your consolatory epistle, that, &c. &c. 2. My Swiss transaction has suffered a great alteration. I shall not become the proprietor of my house and garden at Lausanne, and I relin- quish the phantom with more regret than you could easily imagine. But I have been determined by a difficulty, which at first appeared of little moment, but which has gradually swelled to an alarming magnitude. There is a law in this country, as well in some provinces of France, which is styled le droit de retrait, le retrait lignagere (Lord Loughborough must have heard of it), by which the relations of the deceased are entitled to redeem a house or estate at the price for which it lias been sold j and as the sum fixed by poor Deyverdun is much below its known value, a crowd of competitors are beginning to start. The best opinions (for they are divided) 332 LFTTERS FROM MR. GIBBON are in my favour, that I am not subject to le droit de retrait, since I take not as a purchaser, but as a legatee. But the words of the will are somewhat ambiguous ; the event of law is always uncertain ; the administration of justice at Berne (the last appeal) depends too much on favour and intrigue ; and it is very doubtful whether I could revert to the life-holding, after having chosen and lost the property. These considerations engaged me to open a negotiation with Mr. de Montagny, through the medium of my friend the judge; and as he most ardently wishes to keep the house, he consented, though with some reluctance, to my proposals. Yesterday he signed a covenant in the most regular and binding form, by which he allows my power of transferring my interest, inter- prets in the most ample sense my right of making alterations, and expressly renounces all claim, as landlord, of visiting or inspecting the premises. I have promised to lend him twelve thousand livres, (between seven and eight hundred pounds,) secured on the house and land. The mortgage is four times its value; the interest of four pounds per cent, will be annually discharged by the rent of thirty guineas ; so that I am now tranquil on that score for the remainder of my days. I hope that time will gradually reconcile me to the place which 1 have inhabited with my poor friend ; for in spite of the cream of London, I am still per- suaded that no other place is so well adapted to my taste and habits of studious and social life. Far from delighting in the whirl of a metropolis, my only complaint against Lausanne is the great TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 333 number of strangers, always of Eiigiish, and now of French, by wliom we are infested in summer. Yet we have escaped the superlatively great ones, the Count d'Artois, the Polignacs, &;c. who slip by us to Turin. What a scene is France ! While the Assembly is voting abstract propositions, Paris is an independent republic; the provinces have neither authority nor freedom, and poor Necker declares that credit is no more, and that the people refuse to pay taxes. Yet I think you must be seduced by the abolition of tithes. If Eden goes to Paris, you may have some curious information. Give me some account of Mr. and Mrs. Douglas. Do they live with Lord North ? I hope they do. When will parliament be dissolved ? Are you still Coventry- mad ? I embrace my Lady, the sprightly Maria, and the smiling Louisa.^ Alas ! alas ! you will never come to Switzerland. Adieu. Ever yours. Lausanne, Sept. 25th, 1789. Alas ! what perils do environ The man who meddles with cold iron. Alas ! what delays and difficulties do attend the man who meddles with legal and landed business ! Yet if it be only to disappoint your expectation, I am not so very nervous at this new provoking obstacle. I had totally forgotten the deed in question, which was contrived in the last year of my father's life, to tie his hands, and regulate the disorder of 1 Maria Josepha Holroyd, eldest daughter of Lord Sheffield, married Sir John Thomas Stanley, of Aldcrley in Cheshire, Baronet; and Louisa Dorothea Holroyd married Lieutenant-General William Henry CUnton, eldest son of General Sir Henry Clinton, K.B. 334" LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON his affairs ; and which might have been so easily cancelled by Sir Stanier, who had not the smallest interest in it, either for himself or his family. The amicable suit, w^hich is now become necessary, must, I think, be short and unambiguous. Yet I cannot help dreading the crotchets that lurk under the chancellor's great wig ; and at all events, I foresee some additional delay aud expense. The golden pill of the two thousand eight hundred pounds has soothed my discontent ; and if it be safely lodged with the Goslings, I agree with you, in considering it as an unequivocal pledge of a fair and willing purchaser. It is indeed chiefly in that light I now rejoice in so large a deposit, which is no longer necessary in its full extent. You are apprised by my last letter, that I have reduced myself to the life-enjoyment of the house and garden : and, in spite of my feelings, I am every day more convinced that I have chosen the safer side. I believe my cause to have been good, but it was doubtful. Law in this country is not so ex- pensive as in England, but it is more troublesome : I must have gone to Berne, have solicited my judges in person ; a vile custom ! the event was uncertain ; and during at least two years, I should have been in a state of suspense and anxiety ; till the con- clusion of which it would have been madness to have attempted any alteration or im})rovement. According to my present arrangement I shall want no more than eleven hundred pounds of the two thousand, and I suppose you will direct Gosling to lay out the remainder in India bonds, that it may not lie quite dead, while I am accountable to * * * * TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 335 for the interest. The elderly lady in a male habit, who informed me that Yorksliire is a register county, is a certain judge, one Sir WilHam Blackstone, whose name you may possibly have heard. After stating the danger of purchasers and creditors, with regard to tlie title of estates on which tliey lay out or lend their money, he thus continues : *' In Scotland every act and event regarding the transmission of property is regularly entered on record ; and some of our own provincial divisions, particularly the extended county of York and the populous county of Middlesex, have prevailed with the legislature to erect such registers in their respective districts.'* (Blackstone*s Commentaries, vol, ii. p. 343. edition of 1774, in quarto.) If I am mistaken, it is in pretty good company ; but I suspect that we are all right, and that the register is confined to one or two ridings. As we have, alas! two or three months before us, I should hope that your prudent sagacity will discover some sound land, in case you should not have time to arrange another mortgage. I now write in a hurry, as I am just setting out for Rolle, where I shall be settled with cook and servants in a pleasant apartment, till the middle of November. The Severys have a house there, where they pass the autumn. I am not sorry to vary the scene for a few weeks, and I wish to be absent while some alterations are making in my house at Lausanne. I wish the change of air may be of service to Severy the father, but we do not at all like his present state of health. How completely, alas, how completely I could I now lodge you : but your firm resolve of 336 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON making me a visit seems to have vanished hke a dream. Next summer you will not find five hundred pounds for a rational friendly expedition ; and should parliament be dissolved, you will perhaps find five thousand for- . I cannot think of it with patience. Pray take serious strenuous measures for sending me a pipe of excellent Madeira in cask, wdth some dozens of Malmsey Madeira. It should be consigned to Messrs. Romberg, Voituriers at Ostend, and I must have timely notice of its march. We have so much to say about France, that I suppose we shall never say any thing. That country is now in a state of dissolution. Adieu. Lausanne, December 15th, 1789. You have often reason to accuse my strange silence and neglect in the most important of my own affairs ; for I will presume to assert, that in a business of yours of equal consequence, you should not find me cold or careless. But on the present occasion my silence is, perhaps, the highest com- pUment I ever paid you. You remember the answer of Philip of Macedon : *' Philip may sleep, while he knows that Parmenio is awake." I ex- pected, and, to say the truth, I wished that my Parmenio would have decided and acted, without expecting my dilatory answer ; and in his decision I should have acquiesced with implicit confidence. But since you will have my opinion, let us con- sider the present state of my affairs. In the course of my life I have often known, and sometimes felt, the difficulty of getting money ; but I now find myself involved in a more singular distress, TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 337 the difficulty of placing it, and if it continues much longer, I shall almost wish for my land again. I perfectly agree with you, that it is bad ma- nagement to purchase in the funds when they do not yield four pounds per cent. * * * * Some of this money I can place safely, by means of my banker here ; and I shall possess, what I have always desired, a command of cash, which I cannot abuse to my prejudice, since I have it in my power to supply with my pen any extraordi- nary or fanciful indulgence of expense. And so much, indeed, for pecuniary matters. What would you have me say of the affairs of France ? We are too near, and too remote, to form an accurate judgment of that wonderful scene. The abuses of the court and government called aloud for reform- ation ; and it has happened, as it will always happen, that an innocent well-disposed Prince has paid the forfeit of the sins of his predecessors ; of the ambition of Lewis the Fourteenth, of the profusion of Lewis the Fifteenth. The French nation had a glorious opportunity, but they have abused and may lose their advantages. If they had been content with a liberal translation of our system, if they had respected the prerogatives of the crown, and the privileges of the nobles, they might have raised a solid fabric on the only true foundation, the natural aristocracy of a great coun- try. How different is the prospect ! Their King brought a captive to Paris, after his palace had been, stained with the blood of his guards ; the z 338 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON nobles in exile ; the clergy plundered in a way which strikes at the root of all property ; the ca- pital an independent rcpubhc ; the union of the provinces dissolved ; the flames of discord kindled by the worst of men (in that light I consider Mi- rabeau) ; and the honestest of the Assembly, a set of wild visionaries (like our Dr. Price), who gravely debate, and dream about the establishment of a pure and perfect democracy of five-and-twenty millions, the virtues of the golden age, and the primitive rights and equality of mankind, which would lead, in fair reasoning, to an equal partition of lands and money. How many years must elapse before France can recover any vigour, or resume her station among the Powers of Europe ! As yet, there is no symptom of a great man, a Richelieu or a Cromwell, arising, either to restore the monarchy, or to lead the commonwealth. The weight of Paris, more deeply engaged in the funds than all the rest of the kingdom, will long delay a bank- ruptcy ; and if it should happen, it will be, both in the cause and the effect, a measure of weak- ness, rather than of strength. You send me to Chamberry, to see a Prince and an Archbishop. Alas ! we have exiles enough here, with the Mar- shal de Castries and the Duke de Guignes at their head; and this inundation of strangers, which used to be confined to the summer, will now stagnate all the winter. The only ones whom I have seen with pleasure are Mr. Mounier, the late President of the National Assembly, and the Count de Lally; they have both dined with me. Mounier, who is a serious dry politician, is returned to Dauphine. TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 33\) Lally is an amiable man of the world and a poet : he passes the winter here. You know how much I prefer a quiet select society to a crowd of names and titles, and that I always seek conversation with a view to amusement rather than information. What happy countries are England and Switzer- land, if they know and preserve their happiness ! I have a thousand things to say to my Lady, Maria, and Louisa, but I can add only a short postscript about the Madeira. Good Madeira is now become essential to my health and reputation. May your hogshead prove as good as the last ; may it not be intercepted by the rebels or the Austrians. What a scene again in that country ! Happy England ! Happy Switzerland ! I again repeat, adieu. Lausanne, January 27th, 1790, Your two last epistles, of the 7th and 11th in- stant were somewhat delayed on the road ; they arrived within two days of each other, the last this morning (the 27th); so that I answer by the first, or at least by the second post. Upon the whole, your French method, though sometimes more ra- pid, appears to me less sure and steady than the old German highway, &c. ***** But enough of this. A new and brighter prospect seems to be breaking upon us, and few events of ^/ifl'^ A-??2r/ have ever given me more pleasure than your successful negociation and ****'s- satisfactory answer. The agreement is, indeed, equally conve- nient for both parties : no time or expense will be wasted in scrutinising the title of the estate ; the z 2 340 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON. interest will be secured by the clause of five per cent., and I lament with you, that no larger sum than eiglit thousand pounds can be placed on Be- riton, without asking (what might be somewhat impudent) a collateral security, &c. &c. * * But I wish you to choose and execute one or the other of these arrangements with sage dis- cretion and absolute power. I shorten my let- ter, that I may dispatch it by this post. I seethe time, and I shall rejoice to see it at the end of twenty years, when my cares will be at an end, and our friendly pages will be no longer sullied with the repetition of dirty land and vile money ; when we may expatiate on the politics of the world and our personal sentiments. Without expecting your answer of business, I mean to write soon in a purer style, and I wish to lay open to my friend the state of my mind, which (exclusive of all worldly con- cerns) is not perfectly at ease. In the mean while, I must add two or three short articles. I am astonished at Elmsley's silence, and the immobility of your picture. Mine should have departed long since, could I have found a sure opportunity, &c. &c. Adieu, yours. Lausanne, May 15tli, 1790. Since the first origin (ah ovo) of our connection and correspondence, so long an interval of silence has not intervened, as far as I remember, between us. From my silence you conclude that the moral complaint, which I had insinuated in my last, is either insignificant or fanciful. The conclusion is rash. But the complaint in question is of the nature TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 341 of a slow lingering disease, which is not attended with any immediate danger. As I have not leisure to expatiate, take the idea in three words : " Since the loss of poor Deyverdun, I am alone ; and even in Paradise, solitude is painful to a social mind. When I was a dozen years younger, I scarcely/ felt the weight of a single existence amidst the crowds of London, of parliament, of clubs ; but it will press more heavily upon me in this tranquil land, in the decline of life, and with the increase of infirmities. Some expedient, even the most desperate, must be embraced, to secure the domestic society of a male or female companion. But I am not in a hurry ; there is time for reflection and advice." During this winter such finer feelings have been suspended by the grosser evil of bodily pain. On the ninth of February I was seized by such a fit of the gout as I had never known, though I must be thankful that its dire effects have been confined to the feet and knees, without ascending to the more noble parts. With some vicissitudes of better and worse, I have groaned between two and three months ; the debility has survived the pain, and though now easy, I am carried about in my chair, without any power, and with a very distant chance of supporting myself, from the extreme weakness and contraction of the joints of my knees. Yet I am happy in a skilful physician, and kind assiduous friends : every evening, during more than three months, has been enlivened (excepting when I have been forced to refuse them) by some cheerful visits, and very often by a chosen party of both sexes. How different is such society from the so- z 3 342 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON litary evenings wliich I have passed in the tumult of London ! It is not worth while fighting about a shadow, but should I ever return to England, Bath, not the metropolis, would be my last retreat. Your portrait is at last arrived in perfect con- dition, and now occupies a conspicuous place over the chimney-glass in my library. It is the object of general admiration ; good judges (the few) applaud the work ; the name of Ileynolds opens the eyes and mouths of the many ; and were I not afraid of making you vain, I would inform you that the ori- ginal is not allow^ed to be more than five-and-thirty. In spite of private reluctance and public discontent, I have honourably dismissed myselp I shall arrive at Sir Joshua's before the end of the month : he will give me a look, and perhaps a touch ; and you will be indebted to the president one guinea for the carriage. Do not be nervous, I am not rolled up ; had I been so, you might have gazed on my charms four months ago. I want some account of your- self, of my Lady (shall we never directly corre- spond ?), of Louisa, and of Maria. How has the latter since her launch supported a quiet winter in Sussex ? I so much rejoice in your divorce from that b Kitty Coventry, that I care not w^hat marriage you contract. A great city would suit your dignity, and the duties which woukl kill me in tlie first session, would supply your activity with a constant fund of amusement. But tread softly and surely ; the ice is deceitful, the water is deep, and you may be soused over head and ears before you are aware. Why did not you or Elmsley ' His portrait. TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 34?3 send me the African pamphlet^ by the post? it would not have cost much. You have such a knack of turning a nation, that I am afraid you will triumph (})erhaps by the force of argument) over justice and humanity. But do you not expect to work at Beelzebub's sugar plantations in the infernal regions, under the tender government of a negro- driver ? I should suppose both my Lady and Miss Firth very angry with you. As to the bill for prints, which has been too long neglected, why will you not exercise the power, which I have never revoked, over all my cash at the Goslings? The Severy family has passed a very favourable winter ; the young man is impa- tient to hear from a family which he places above all others : yet he will generously write next week, and send you a drawing of the alterations in the house. Do not raise your ideas ; you know /am satisfied with convenience in architecture, and some elegance in furniture. I admire the coolness with which you ask me to epistolise Reynell and Elmsley, as if a letter were so easy and pleasant a task ; it appears less so to me every day. 1790. Your indignation will melt into pity, when you hear that for several weeks past I have been again confined to my chamber and my chair. Yet I must hasten, generously hasten, to exculpate the gout, my old enemy, from the curses which you already pour on his head. He is not the cause of ' Observations on the Project for abolishing the Sliive Trade, by Lord Sheffield. z 4 344 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON this disorder, altliough the consequences have been somewhat similar. I am satisfied tliat this effort of nature has saved me from a very dangerous, perhaps a fatal, crisis ; and I listen to the flattering hope that it may tend to keep the gout at a more re- spectful distance, &c. &c. &c. The whole sheet has been filled with dry selfish business; but I must and will reserve some lines of the cover for a little friendly conversation. I passed four days at the castle of Copet with Necker ; and could have wished to have shown him as a warning to any aspiring youth possessed with the demon of ambition. With all the means of private happiness in his power, he is the most miserable of human beings : the past, the present, and the future, are equally odious to him. When I suggested Some domestic amusements of books, building, &c., he answered with a deep tone of despair, " Dans I'etat oil je suis, je ne puis sentir que le coup de vent qui m'a abbattu." How different from the conscious cheerfulness with which our poor friend Lord North supported his fall. Madame Necker maintains more external composure, mais le Diable n^y l^erd Hen. It is true that Necker wished to be carried into the closet, like old Pitt, on the shoulders of the people ; and that he has been ruined by the democracy which he had raised. I believe him to be an able financier, and know him to be an honest man ; too honest, ])crhaps, for a minister. His rival Calonnc passed through Lau- sanne, in his way from Turin ; and was soon fol- lowed by the Prince of Conde, with his son and grandson ; but I was too much indisposed to see TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 345 them. They have, or have had, some wild projects of a comiter-revohition: horses have been bought, men levied : and the Canton of Berne has too much countenanced such foolish attempts, which must end in the ruin of the party. Burke's book is a most admirable medicine against the French dis- ease, which has made too much progress even in this happy country. I admire his eloquence, I approve his politics, I adore his chivalry, and I can forgive even his superstition. The primitive church, which I have treated with some free- dom, was itself at that time an innov'ation, and I was attached to the old Pagan establishment. The French spread so many lies about the sentiments of the English nation, that I wish the most consider- able men of all parties and descriptions would join in some public act, declaring themselves satisfied with, and resolved to support our present constitu- tion. Such a declaration would have a wonderful effect in Europe ; and, were I thought worthv, I myself would be proud to subscribe it. I have a great mind to send you something of a sketch, such as all thinking men might adopt. I have intelligence of the approach of my Ma- deira. I accept with equal pleasure the second pipe, now in the Torrid Zone. Send me some pleasant details of your domestic state, of Maria, &c. If my Lady thinks that my silence is a mark of indifference, my lady is a goose. I must have you all at Lausanne next summer. 346 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON Lausanne, August 7, 1790. I answer at once your two letters ; and I should probably have taken earlier notice of the first, had I not been in daily expectation of the second. I must begin on the subject of what really interests me the most, your glorious election for Bristol. Most sincerely do I congratulate your exchange of a cursed expensive jilt, who deserted you for a rich Jew, for an honourable connection with a chaste and virtuous matron, who will probably be as constant as she is disinterested.' In. the whole range of election from Caithness to St. Ives, I much doubt whether there be a single choice so truly honourable to the member and the constituents. The second commercial city invites, from a distant province, an independent gentleman, known only by his active spirit, and his writings on the subject of trade ; and names him, without intrigue or expense, for her representative : even the voice of party is silenced, while factions strive which shall applaud the most. You are now sure, for seven years to come, of never wanting food ; I mean business : what a crowd of suitors or complainants will besiege your door ! what a load of letters and memorials will be heaped on your table ! I much question whether even you will not sometimes exclaim, Ohejam satis est I but that is your affair. Of the excursion to Coventry I cannot decide, but I hear it is pretty I Lord Sheffield continued to represent the city of Bristol until he was removed to the British House of Peers, in 1802. He can never sufficiently acknowledge the liberality and kindness which he experi- enced, during the whole period, from the citizens of Bristol. He was not suffered to incur the least expense, not even for the printing of an advertisement. — S. TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 347 generally blamed : but however, I love gratitude to an old friend ; and shall not be very angry if you damned them with a farewell to all eternity. But I cannot repress my indignation at the use of those foolisli, obsolete, odious words, Whig and Tory. In the American war they might have some- meaning ; and then your Lordship was a Tory, althougli you supposed yourself a Whig : since the coalition, all general principles have been confounded ; and if there ever was an opposition to men, not measures, it is the present. Luckily both the leaders are great men ; and, whatever happens, the country must fall upon its legs. What a strange mist of peace and war seems to hang over the ocean ! We can perceive nothing but secrecy and vigour ; both those are excellent qualities to perceive in a mi- nister. From yourself and politics I now return to my private concerns, which I shall methodically consider under the three great articles of mind, body, and estate. 1. I am not absolutely displeased at your^firing so hastily at the hint, a tremendous hint, in my last letter. But the danger is not so serious or immi- nent as you seem to suspect ; and I give you my word, that before I take the slightest step which can bind me either in law, conscience, or honour, I will faithfully communicate, and we will freely dis- cuss, the whole state of the business. But at pre- sent there is not any thing to communicate or dis- cuss ; I do assure you that I have not any particular object in view : I am not in love with any of the hyaenas of Lausanne, though there are some who keep their claws tolerably well pared. Sometimes 348 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON in a solitary mood, I fancied myself married to one or other of those whose society and conversation are the most pleasing to me ; but when I have painted in my fancy all the probable consequences of such an union, I have started from my dream, rejoiced in my escape, and ejaculated a thanks- giving that I was still in possession of my natural freedom. Yet I feel, and shall continue to feel, that domestic solitude, however it maybe alleviated by the world, by study, and even by friendship, is a comfortless state, which will grow more painful as I descend in the vale of years. At present my situation is very tolerable; and if at dinner-time, or at my return home in the evening, I sometimes sigh for a companion, there are many hours, and many occasions, in which I enjoy the superior blessing of being sole master of my own house. But your plan, though less dangerous, is still more absurd than mine : such a couple as you describe could not be found ; and, if found, would not answer my pur- pose ; their rank and position would be awkward and ambiguous to myself and my acquaintance ; and the agreement of three persons of three charac- ters would be still more impracticable. My plan of Charlotte Porten is undoubtedly the more desirable; and she might either remain a spinster (the case is not without example), or marry some Swiss of my choice, who would increase and enliven our society; and both would have the strongest motives for kind and dutiful behaviour. But tiie mother has been indirectly sounded, and will not hear of such a proposal for some years. On my side, I would not take her, but as a piece of soft wax which I Could TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 349 model to the language and manners of the country ; I must therefore be patient. Young Severy*s letter, which maybe now in your hands, and which, for tliese three or four hist posts, has furnished my indolence with a new pretence for delay, has already informed you of the means and circumstances of my resurrection. Tedious indeed w^as my confinement, since I was not able to move from my house or chair, from the ninth of February to the first of July, very nearly five months. The first weeks were accompanied with more pain than I have ever known in the gout, wath anxious days and sleepless nights ; and when that pain subsided, it left a weakness in my knees, which seemed to have no end. My confinement was however softened by books, by the possession of every comfort and convenience, by a succession each evening of agreeable company, and by a flow of equal spirits and general good health. During the last weeks I descended to the ground floor, poor Dey Verdun's apartment, and constructed a chair like Merlin's, in which I could wheel myself in the house and on tlie terrace. My patience has been universally admired ; yet how many thousands have passed those five months less easily than my- self. I remember making a remark perfectly simple, and perfectly true : " At present (I said to Madame de Severy), I am not positively miserable, and I may reasonably hope a daily or weekly im- provement, till sooner or later in the summer I shall recover new limbs, and new^ pleasures, which I do not now possess: have any of you such a prospect? " The prediction has been accomplished, and I have 350 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON arrived to my present condition of strength, or rather of feebleness : I now can walk with tolerable ease in my garden and smooth ])laces ; but on the rough pavement of the town I use, and perhaps shall use, a sedan chair. The Pyrmont waters have performed wonders ; and my physician (not Tissot, but a very sensible man,) allows me to hope that the term of the interval will be in proportion to that of the fit. Have you read in the English papers, that the government of Berne is overturned, and that we are divided into three democratical leagues f true as what I have read in the French papers, that the Eng- lish have cutoffPitt's head, and abolished the House of Lords. The people of this country are happy ; and in spite of some miscreants, and more foreign emissaries, they are sensible of their happiness. Finally, inform my Lady that I am indignant at a false and heretical assertion in her last letter to Severy, " that friends at a distance cannot love each other, if they do not write." I love her better than any woman in the world ; indeed I do; and yet I do not write. And she herself — but I am calm. We have now nearly one hundred French exiles, some of them worth being acquainted with ; particularly a Count de Schomberg, who is become almost my friend ; he is a man of the world, of letters, and of sufficient age, since, in IJ^S, he succeeded to Marshal Saxe's regiment of dragoons. As to the rest, I entertain them, and they flatter me : but I wish we were reduced to our Lausanne society. Poor France ! the state is dissolved, the nation is mad ! Adieu. TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 351 Lausanne, April 9, 1791. First, of my healtli : it is now tolerably restored, my legs are still weak, but the animal in general is in a sound and lively condition : and we have great hopes from the fine weather and the Pyrmont waters. I most sincerely wished for the presence of Maria, to embellish a ball which I gave the 29th of last month to all the best company, natives and foreigners, of Lausanne, with the aid of the Severys, especially of the mother and son, who directed the economy, and performed the honours of the Jcfe. It opened about seven in the evening; the assembly of men and women was pleased and pleasing, the music good, the illumination splendid, the refresh- ments profuse : at twelve, one hundred and thirty persons sat down to a very good supper : at two, I stole away to bed, in a snug corner ; and I was in- formed at breakfast, that the remains of the veteran and young troops, with Severy and his sister at their head, had concluded the last dance about a quarter before seven. This magnificent enter- tainment has gained me great credit : and the expense was more reasonable than you can easily imagine. This was an extraordinary event ; but I give frequent dinners ; and in the summer I have an assembly every Sunday evening. What a wicked wretch ! says my Lady. I cannot pity you for the accumulation of business, as you ought not to pity me, if I com- plained of the tranquillity of Lausanne ; we suffer or enjoy the effects of our own choice. Perhaps you will mutter something of our not being born for ourselves, of public spirit (I have formerly .352 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON read of such a tiling), of private friendship, for which I give you full and ample credit, &c. But your parliamentary operations, at least, will probably expire in the month of June ; and I shall refuse to sign the Newhavcn conveyance, unless I am satis- fied that you will execute the Lausanne visit this summer. On the 15th of June, suppose Lord, Lady, Maria, and maid (poor Louisa!), in a post coach, with Etienne on horseback, set out from Downing Street, or Sheffield Place, cross the Chan- nel from Brighton to Dieppe, visit the National Assembly, buy caps at Paris, examine the ruins of Versailles, and arrive at Lausanne, without danger or fatigue, the second week in July ; you will be lodged pleasantly and comfortably, and will not perhaps despise my situation. A couple of months will roll, alas ! too hastily away : you will all be amused by new scenes, new people : and whenever Maria and you, with Severy, mount on horseback to visit the country, the glaciers, &c., my Lady and myself shall form a very quiet tete-a-tete at home. In September, if you are tired, you may return by a direct or indirect way j but I only desire that you will not make the plan impracticable, by grasping at too much. In return, I promise you a visit of three or four months in the autumn of ninety-two : you and my booksellers are now my principal at- tractions in England. You had some right to growl at hearing of my su})plement in the papers : but Cadell's indiscretion was founded on a hint which I had thrown out in a letter, and which in all probability will never be executed. Yet I am not totally idle. Adieu. TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 353 Lausanne, May 18, 179L I write a sliort letter, on small paper, to inform you, that the various deeds, which arrived safe and in good condition, Iiave this morning been sealed, signed, and delivered, in the presence of respectable and well-known English witnesses. To have read the aforesaid acts, would have been difficult ; to have understood them, impracticable. I therefore signed them with my eyes shut, and in that implicit confidence wOiich we freemen and Britons are humbly content to yield to our lawyers and ministers. I hope, however, most seriously hope, that every thing has been carefully examined, and that I am not totally ruined. It is not without much impatience that I expect an account of the payment and investment of the purchase-money. It was my intention to have added a new edition of my will : but I have an unexpected call to go to Geneva to-morrow with the Severys, and must defer that business a few days till after my return. On my return I may possibly find a letter from you, and \\\\\ waite more fully in answer: my posthumous work ', contained in a single sheet, will not ruin you in postage. In the mean wdiile let me desire you either never to talk of Lausanne or to execute the journey this summer : after the dispatch of public and private business, there can be no real obstacle but in yourself. Pray do not go to war with Russia ; it is very foolish. I am quite angry with Pitt. Adieu. ' Mr. Gibbon's Will. A A 354 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON Lausanne, May 31, 1791. At length I see a ray of sunshine breaking from a dark cloud. Your epistle of the 13th arrived this morning, the 25th instant, the day after my return from Geneva ; it has been communicated to Severy. We now believe that you intend a visit to Lausanne this summer, and we hope that you will execute that intention. If you are a man of honour, you shall find me one ; and, on the day of your arrival at Lausanne, I will ratify my en- gagement of visiting the British isle before the end of the year 1792, excepting only the fair and foul exception of the gout. You rejoice me, by pro- posing the addition of dear Louisa ; it was not without a bitter pang that I threw her overboard, to lighten the vessel and secure the voyage : I was fearful of the governess, a second carriage, and a long train of difficulty and expense, which might have ended in blowing up the whole scheme. But if you can bodkin the sweet creature into the coach, she will find an easy welcome at Lausanne. The first arrangements which I must make before your arrival, may be altered by your own taste, on a survey of the premises, and you will all be com- modiously and pleasantly lodged. You have heard a great deal of the beauty of my house, garden, and situation ; but such are their intrinsic value that, unless I am much deceived, they will bear the test even of exaggerated })raise. From my knowledge of your lordsliip, I have always enter- tahied some doubt how you would get through the society of a Lausanne winter ; but I am satisfied that, exclusive of friendship, your summer visits to TO LOUD SHEFFIELD. 355 the banks of the Leman Lake will long be remem- bered as one of the most agreeable periods of yoiu' life ; and that you will scarcely regret the amuse- ment of a Sussex Committee of Navigation in the dog days. You ask for details : what details ? a map of France and a post-book are easy and in- fallible guides. If the ladies are not afraid of the ocean, you are not ignorant of the passage from Brighton to Dieppe : Paris will then be in your direct road ; and even allowing you to look at the Pandaemonium, the ruins of Versailles, &;c., a fortnight diligently employed will clear you from Sheffield Place to Gibbon Castle. What can I say more ? As little have I to say on the subject of my worldly matters, which seem now, Jupiter be praised, to be drawing towards a final conclusion ; since when people part with their money, they are indeed serious. I do not perfectly understand the ratio of the precise sum which you have poured into Gosling's reservoir, but suppose it will be ex- plained in a general account. You have been very dutiful in sending me, what I have always desired, a cut Woodfall on a remark- able debate ; a debate, indeed, most remarkable ! Poor Burke is the most eloquent and rational madman that I ever knew. I love Fox's feelings, but I detest the political principles of the man, and of the party. Formerly, you detested them more strongly during the American war, than myself. I am half afraid that you are corrupted by your unfortunate connections. Should you admire the National Assembly, we shall have many an alter- A A 2 35G LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON cation, for I am as high an aristocrat as Burke himself J and he has truly observed, that it is im- possible to debate with temper on the subject of that cursed revolution. In my last excursion to Geneva I frequently saw the Neckers, who by this time are returned to their summer residence at Copet. He ismucli restored in health and spirits, especially since the publication of his last book, which has probably reached England. Both parties, who agree in abusing him, agree likewise that he is a man of virtue and genius ; but I much fear that the purest intentions have been productive of the most baneful consequences. Our military men, I mean the French, are leaving us every day for the camp of the Princes at Worms, and support what is called ^ representation. 'Their hopes are sanguine ; I will not answer for their being well grounded : it is certain^ however, that the emperor had an interview the 19th instant with the count of Artois at Mantua ; and the aristocrats talk in mysterious language of Spain, Sardinia, the Empire, four or five armies, kc. They will doubtless strike a blow this summer ; may it not recoil on their own heads ! Adieu. Embrace our female travellers. A short delay ! Lausanne, June Ir^, 1791. I now begin to see you all in real motion, swimming from Brighton to Dieppe, according to my scheme, and afterwards treading the direct road, which you cannot well avoid, to the turbulent capital of the late kingdom of France. I know not ' The words in the original letter are torn off' by the seal. TO LORD SHEFFIELD. 357 what more to sav, or what further instructions to send ; tliey would indeed be useless, as you are trav^elling through a country wliich has been some- times visited by Englishmen : only this let me say, that in the midst of anarchy the roads were never more secure than at present. As you will wish to assist at the National Assembly, you will act pru- dently in obtaining from the French in London a good recommendation to some leading member; Cazales, for instance, or the Abbe Maury. I soon expect from Elmsley a cargo of books ; but you may bring me any new pamplilet of exquisite flavour, particularly the last works of John Lord Sheffield \ which the dog has always neglected to send. You will have time to write once more, and you must endeavour, as nearly as possible, to mark the day of your arrival. You may come either by Lyons and Geneva, by Dijon and Les Rousses, or by Dole and Pontarliere. The post will fail you on the edge of Switzerland, and must be supplied by hired horses. I wish you to make your last day's journey easy, so as to dine upon the road, and arrive by tea-time. The pulse of the counter- revolution beats high, but I cannot send you any certain facts. Adieu. I want to hear my lady abusing me for never writing. ^11 the Severys are very impatient. Notwithstanding the high premium, I do not absolutely wish you drowned. Besides all other cares, I must marry and propagate, which would give me a great deal of trouble. ' Observations on the Corn Laws. A A 3 358 FROM MR. GIBBON TO LORD SHEFFIELD. Lausanne, July 1, 1791. In obedience to your orders I direct a flying shot to Paris, though I have not any thing particular to add, excepting that our impatience is increased in the inverse ratio of time and space. Yet I ahnost doubt whether you have passed the sea. The news of the king of France's escape must have reached you before the 28th, the day of your departure, and the prospect of strange unknown disorder may well have suspended your firmest resolves. The royal animal is again caught, and all may probably be quiet. I was just going to exhort you to pass through Brussels and the confines of Germany ; a fair Irishism, since if you read this, you are already at Paris. The only reasonable advice which now remains, is to obtain, by means of Lord Gower ^, a sufficiency, or even superfluity, of forcible passports, such as leave no room for cavil on a jealous frontier. The frequent intercourse with Paris has proved that the best and shortest road, instead of Besan9on, is by Dijon, Dole, Les Rousses, and Nyon. Adieu. I warmly embrace the ladies. It would be idle now to talk of business. > Then British ambassador at Paris. 359 It has appeared from the foregoing Letters that a visit from myself and my family, to Mr. Gibbon at Lausanne, had been for some time in agitation. This long-promised excursion took place in the month of June, 1701* ^nd occasioned a consider- able cessation of our correspondence. I landed at Dieppe immediately after the unfortunate Lewis XVL was brought captive to Paris. During my stay in that capital, I had an opportunity of seeing the extraordinary ferment of men's minds, both in the National Assembly and in private societies, and also in my passage through France to Lausanne, where I recalled to my memory the interesting scenes I had witnessed by frequent conversations with my deceased friend. I might have wished to record his opinions on the subject of the French Revolution, if he had not expressed them so well in the annexed Letters. He seemed to suppose, as some of his letters hint, that I had a tendency to the new French opinions. Never was suspicion more unfounded ; nor could it have been admitted into Mr. Gibbon's mind, but that his extreme friendship for me, and his utter abhorrence of these notions, made him anxious and jealous, even to an excess, that I should not entertain them. He was, however, soon imdeceived ; he found that I was fully as averse to them as himself. I had from the first expressed an opinion, that such a A A 4 360 change as was aimed at in France, would derange all the regular governments in Europe, hazard the internal quiet and dearest interests of this country, and probably end in bringing on mankind a much greater portion of misery than the most sanguine reformer liad ever promised to himself or others to produce of benefit, by the visionary schemes of liberty and equality, with which the ignorant and vulgar were misled and abused. Mr. Gibbon at first, like many others, seemed pleased with the prospect of the reform of inve- terate abuses ; but lie very soon discovered the mischief which was intended, the imbecility with which concessions were made, and the ruin which must arise, from the want of resolution or conduct, in the administration of France. He lived to re- probate in the strongest terms possible, the folly of the first reformers, and the something worse than extravagance and ferocity of their successors. He saw the wild and mischievous tendency of those pretended reformers, which, while they professed nothing but amendment, really meant destruction to all social order ; and so strongly was his opinion fixed, as to the danger of hasty innovation, that he became a warm and zealous advocate for every sort of old establishment, which he marked in va- rious ways, sometimes rather ludicrously ; and I recollect, in a circle where French affairs were the topic, and some Portuguese present, he, seemingly witli seriousness, argued in favour of the Inqui- sition at Lisbon, and said he would not, at the present moment, give uj) even that old establish- ment. 361 It may, perhaps, not be quite uninteresting to tlie readers of these Memoirs, to know, that I found Mr. Gibbon at Lausanne in possession of an excellent house ; the view from which, and from the terrace, was so uncommonly beautiful, that even his own pen would with difficulty describe the scene which it commanded. This prospect comprehended every thing vast and magnificent which could be furnished by the finest mountains among the Alps, the most extensive view of the Lake of Geneva, with a beautifully varied and cultivated country, adorned by numerous villas, and picturesque buildings, intermixed with beau- tiful masses of stately trees. Here my friend re- ceived us with an hospitality and kindness which I can never forget. The best apartments of the house were appropriated to our use ; the choicest society of the place was sought for to enliven our visit, and render every day of it cheerful and agreeable. It was impossible for any man to be more esteemed and admired than Mr. Gibbon was at Lausanne. The preference he had given to that place, in adopting it for a residence, rather than his own country, was felt and acknowledged by all the inhabitants j and he may have been said almost to have given the law to a set of as willing subjects as any man ever presided over. In return for the deference shown to him, he mixed, without affectation, in all the society, I mean all the best society, that Lausanne afforded ; he could indeed command it, and was, perhaps, for that reason the more partial to it ; for he often declared that he liked society more as a relaxation from study, than 36^ as expecting to derive from it amusement or in- struction ; that to books he looked for improve- ment, not to Hving persons. 13ut this I considered partly as an answer to my expressions of wonder, that a man who might choose the most various and most generally improved society in the world, namely in England, should prefer the very limited circle of Lausanne, which he never deserted, but for an occasional visit to M. and Madame Necker. It must not, however, be understood, that in choosing Lausanne for his home, he was insensible to tlie value of a residence in England : he was not in possession of an income which corresponded with his notions of ease and comfort in his own country. In Switzerland, his fortune was ample. To this consideration of fortune may be added an- other, which also had its weight ; from early youth Mr. Gibbon had contracted a partiality for foreign taste and foreign habits of life, which made him less a stranger abroad than he was, in some respects, in his native country. This arose, perhaps, from having been out of England from his sixteenth to his twenty-first year ; yet, when I came to Lau- sanne I found him apparently without relish for French society. During the stay I made with him he renewed his intercourse with the principal French who were at Lausanne ; of whom there happened to be a considerable number distinguislied for rank or talents ; many indeed respectable for both.' I was not absent from my friend's house, > Marshal de Castries and several branches of his family. Due de Guigncs and daughters. Due and Duchcsse de (iuiche, Madame de Grammont, Princcssc d'llenin, Princcsse do J3ouillon, Duchcsse de- Biron, Prince de Salui, Comte de Schomberg, Couite de LalJy To- lendal, M. Mounier, Madame d'Aguesseau and family, M.de Malsherbcs, &c. &c. 363 except during a short excursion that we made to- gether to M. Necker's at Copct, and a tour to Geneva, Chamouny, over the Col de Bahne, to Martigny, St. Maurice, and round the Lake by Vevay to Lausanne. In the social and singularly pleasant months that I passed with Mr. Gibbon, he enjoyed his usual cheerfulness, with good health. After he left England, in 1788» he had had a severe attack, mentioned in one of the foregoing letters, of an erysipelas, which at last settled in one of his legs, and left something of a dropsical tendency ; for at this time I first perceived a considerable degree of swelling about the ancle. In the beginning of October I quitted this delightful residence ; and some time after my return to England, our correspondence recom- menced. 365 LETTERS EDWARD GIBBON, ESQ. LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. Edward Gibbon^ Esq. to the Hon. Miss Holroyd. Lausanne, 9th Nov. 1791. Gulliver is made to say, in presenting his in- terpreter, " My tongue is in the mouth of my friend." Allow me to say, with proper expressions and excuses, " My pen is in the hand of my friend; " and the aforesaid friend begs leave thus to continue.^ I remember to have read somewhere in Rous- seau, of a lover quitting very often his mistress, to have the pleasure of corresponding with her. Though not absolutely your lover, I am very much your admirer, and should be extremely tempted to follow the same example. The spirit and reason which prevail in your conversation, appear to great advantage in your letters. The three which I have received from Berne, Coblentz, and Brussels, ' The remainder of the letter was dictated by INIr. Gibbon, and written by M. Wilh. de Scvery. — S. 3GC) LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON have given me much real pleasure j first, as a proof that you are often thinking of me ; secondly, as an evidence that you are capable of keeping a resolution ; and thirdly, from their own intrinsic merit and entertainment. The style, without any allowance for haste or hurry, is perfectly correct ; the manner is neither too light nor too grave ; the dimensions neither too long, nor too short : they are such, in a word, as I should like to receive from the daughter of my best friend. I attend your lively journal, through bad roads, and worse inns. Your description of men and manners con- veys very satisfactory information j and I am par- ticularly delighted with your remark concerning the irregular behaviour of the Rhine. But the Rhine, alas ! after some temporary wanderings, will be content to flow in his old channel, while man — man is the greatest fool of the whole cre- ation. I direct this letter to Sheffield Place, where I suppose you arrived in health and safety. I con- gratulate my Lady on her quiet establishment by her fire-side : and hope you will be able, after all your excursions, to support tlie climate and manners of Old England. Before tliis epistle reaches you, I ho])e to have received the two promised letters from Dover and Sheffield Place. If they should not meet with a proper return, you will pity and forgive me. I have not yet heard from Lord Sheffield, who seems to have devolved on his daughter the task which she has so gloriously executed. I shall probably not write to him till I have received his first letter of business from Eng- TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. SGj kind ; but with regard to my Lady, I have most excellent mtentions. I never could understand liow two persons of such superior merit, as Miss Holroyd and Miss Lausanne, could have so little relish for one another, as they appeared to have in the beginning ; and it was witli great pleasure that I observed the degrees of their growing intimacy, and the mutual regret of their separation. Whatever you may imagine, your friends at Lausanne have been thinking as frequently of yourself and company, as you could possibly think of them ; and you will be very ungrateful, if you do not seriously resolve to make them a second visit, under such name and title as you may judge most agreeable. None of the Severy family, except perhaps my secretary, are inclined to forget you ; and I am continually asked for someaccountof your health, motions, and amuse- ments. Since your departure, no great events have occurred. I have made a short excursion to Geneva and Copet, and found M. Necker in much better spirits than when you saw him. They pressed me to pass some weeks this winter in their house at Geneva ; and I may possibly comply, at least in part, with their invitation. The aspect of Lausanne is peaceful and placid ; and you have no hopes of a revolution driving me out of this country. We hear nothing of the proceedings of the commission^ ' A commission, at the head of which was Monsieur Fischer, one of the principal members of tlie government of Berne, a very active and intelhgent man, who wouKI have distinguislied himself in the admini- stration of any conntr\-. This conmiission, which was accompanied by two or three thousand of the best of the (ierman militia of the Canton of Berne, was sent for the purpose of examining into some at- 368 • LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON except by playing at cards every evening with Monsieur Fischer, who often speaks of Lord Shef- field with esteem and respect. There is no ap- pearance of Rosset and La Mottc being brought to a speedy trial, and they still remain in the castle of Chillon, which (according to the geography of the National Assembly) is washed by the sea. Our winter begins with great severity ; and we shall not probably have many balls, which, as you may ima- gine, I lament much. Angletine does not consider two French words as a letter. Montrond sighs and blushes whenever Louisa's name is men- tioned : Philippine wislies to converse with her on men and manners. The French ladies are settled in town for the winter, and they form, with Mrs. Trevor, a very agreeable addition to our society. It is now enlivened by a visit of the Chevalier de Boufflers, one of the most accomplished men in the ci-devant kingdom of France. As Mrs. Wood ^ who has miscarried, is about to leave us, I must either cure or die ; and, upon the whole, I believe the former will be most expedient. You will see her in London, with dear Corea, next winter. My rival magnificently presents me with an hogshead of Madeira ; so that in honour I could not supplant him ; yet I do assure you, from my heart, that another departure is much more painful tempts to introduce the French revolutionary principles into the Pays dc Vaud. Several persons were seized ; the greater part were re- leased ; the examination was secret ; but Rosset and La Motte were confined in the castle of ("hillon ; and being afterwards condemned, for correspondence with the French, to a long imprisonment, were transferred to the castle of Arbourg, from whence they escaped. — S. ' Madame de Silva. TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 369 to me. The apartment below ^ is shut up, and I know not when I shall again visit it with pleasure. Adieu. Believe me, one and all, most affectionately yours. Edward Gibbon, Esq. to the Right Hon. Lord Sheffield. Lausanne, December 28, 1791, Alas! alas! the demon of procrastination has again possessed me. Three months have nearly rolled away since your departure ; and seven letters, five from the most valuable Maria, and two from yourself, have extorted from me only a single epistle, which perhaps would never have been written, had I not used the permission of employing my own tongue and the hand of a secretary. Shall I tell you, that, for these last six weeks, the eve of every day has witnessed a Jinn resolution, and the day itself has furnished some ingenious delay ? This morning, for instance, I determined to invade you as soon as the breakfast things should be re- moved : they were removed ; but I had something to read, to write, to meditate, and there was time enough before me. Hour after hour has stolen away, and I finally begin my letter at two o'clock, evidently too late for the post, as I must dress, dine, go abroad, &c. A foundation, however, shall be laid, which shall stare me in the face ; and next Saturday I shall probably be roused by the awful reflection that it is the last day in the year. 1 The apartment principally inhabited during the residence of my family at Lausanne. — S. B B 570 LHTTERS FROM MR. GIBBON After realising this summer an event which I had long considered as a dream of fancy, 1 know- not whether I should rejoice or grieve at your visit to Lausanne. While I possessed the family, the sentiment of pleasure highly predominated ; when, just as we had subsided in a regular, easy, comfortable plan of life, the last trump sounded, and, without speaking of the pang of separation, you left me to one of the most gloomy, solitary months of October which 1 have ever passed. For yourself and daughters, however, you have con- trived to snatch some of the most interesting scenes of this world. Paris, at such a moment, Switzerland, and the Rhine, Strasburg, Coblentz, have suggested a train of lively images and useful ideas, which will not be speedily erased. The mind of the young damsel, more especially, will be enlarged and enlightened in every sense. In four months she has lived many years ; and she will much deceive and displease me, if she does not review and methodise her journal, in such a manner as she is capable of performing, for the amusement of her particular friends. Another benefit which will redound from your recent view is, that every place, person, and object, about Lausanne, are now become familiar and interesting to you. In our future correspondence (do I dare pronounce the word correspondence ?) I can talk to you as freely of every circumstance as if it were actually before your eyes. And first, of my own improvements. — All those venerable piles of an- cient verdure which you admired have been eradi- cated in one fatal day. Your faithful substitutes. TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 371 William de Severy and Levade, have never ceased to persecute me, till I signed their death-warrant. Their place is now supplied by a number of pic- turesque naked poles, the foster-fathers of as many twigs of Platanusses, which may afford a grateful but distant shade to the founder, or to his seris Nepotibus. In the mean while 1 must confess that the terrace appears broader, and that I discover a much larger quantity of snow than I should other- wise do. The workmen admire your ingenious plan for cutting out a new bedchamber and book- room ; but, on mature consideration, we all unani- mously prefer the old scheme of adding a third room on the terrace beyond the library, with two spacious windows, and a fire-place between. It will be larger (28 feet by 21), and pleasanter, and warmer : the difference of expense will be much less considerable than I imagined : the door of communication with the library will be artfully buried in the wainscot ; and, unless it be opened by my own choice, may always remain a profound secret. Such is the design ; but, as it will not be executed before next summer, you have time and liberty to state your objections. I am much colder about the staircase, but it maybe finished, according to your idea, for thirty pounds ; and I feel they will persuade me. Am I not a very rich man ? When these alterations are completed, few authors of six volumes in quarto will be more agreeably lodged than myself. Lausanne is now full and lively: all our native families are returned from the country; and, praised be the Lord! we are infested with few foreigners, either French or English. B B 2 37*2 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON Even our democrats arc more reasonable or more discreet ; it is agreed to waive the subject of politics, and all seem happy and cordial. I have a grand dinner this M'eek, a sup])cr of thirty or forty people on Twelfth-day, &c. ; some concerts have taken place, some balls are talked of; and even Maria would allow (yet it is ungenerous to say even Maria) that the winter scene at Lausanne is tolerably gay and active. I say nothing of the Severys, as Angletine has epistolised Maria last post. She has probably hinted that her brother meditates a short excursion to Turin : that worthy fellow Trevor has given him a pressing invitation to his own house. In the beginning of February I propose going to Geneva for three or four weeks. I shall lodge and eat with the Neckers ; my mornings will be my own, and I shall spend my evenings in the society of the place, where I have many acquaintance. This short absence will agitate my stagnant life, and restore me with fresh appetite to my house, my library, and my friends. Before that time (the end of February) what events may happen, or be ready to happen ! The National Assembly (compared to which the former was a senate of heroes and demi-gods) seem resolved to attack Germany avec quatre millions de hayonettes lihres ; the army of the princes must soon either fight, or starve, or conquer. Will Sweden draw his sword? will Russia draw her })urse ? an empty purse! All is darkness and anarchy : neither party is strong enougli to oppose a settlement ; and I cannot see a possibility of an amicable arrangement, where there are no heads (in any sense of the TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 373 word) who can answer for the multitude. Send me your ideas, and those of Lord Guildford, Lord Loughborough, Fox, &c. Before 1 conclude, a word of my vexatious affairs. — Shall I never sail on the smooth stream of good security and half-yearly interest ? will every body refuse my money ? I had already written to Barrel and Gosling to obey your com- mands, and was in hopes that you had already made large and salutary evacuations. During your absence I never expected much effect from the cold indifference of agents ; but you are now in England — you will be speedily in London: set all your setting-dogs to beat the field, hunt, in- quire, why should you not advertise ? Yet I am almost ashamed to complain of some stagnation of interest, when I am witness to the natural and ac- quired philosophy of so many French, who are re- duced from riches, not to indigence, but to absolute want and beggary. A Count Argout has just left us, who possessed ten thousand a-year in the island of St. Domingo ; he is utterly burnt and ruined ; and a brother, whom he tenderly loved, has been murdered by the negroes. These are real mis- fortunes. I have much revolved the plan of the Memoirs I once mentioned, and, as you do not think it ridiculous, I believe I shall make an at- tempt ; if I can please myself, I am confident of not displeasing ; but let this be a profound secret between us : people must not be prepared to laugh, they must be taken by surprise. Have you looked over your or rather my letters ? Surely, in the course of the year, you may find a safe and B B 3 SJ-i LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON cheap occasion of sending me a parcel ; they may assist me. Adieu. I embrace my lady ; send me a favourable account of her health. I kiss the Marmaille. By an amazing push of remorse and diligence I have finished my letter (three pages and a half) this same day since dinner ; but I have not time to read it. Ever yours. Half past-six. To the Same. Lausanne, December 31, 1791. To-morrow a new year, multos etfelices ! I now most sincerely repent of my late repent- ance, and do almost swear never to renounce the amiable and useful practice of procrastination. Had I delayed, as I was strongly tempted, another post, your missive of the 13th, which did not reach me till this morning (three mails were due), would have arrived in time, and I might have avoided this second Herculean labour. It will be, however, no more than an infant Hercules. The topics of conversation have been fully discussed, and I shall now confine myself to the needful of the new business. Feli.v J'austiimque sit I may no untoward accident disarrange your Yorkshire mort- gage ; the conclusion of which will place me in a clear and easy state, such as I have never known since the first hour of property. * * * *^ The three per cents are so high, and the country is in such a damned state of prosperity imder that fellow Pitt, that it goes against me to j)urchase at such low interest. In my visit to England next autumn, or in the spring following (alas ! you TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 375 must acquiesce in the alternative), I hope to be armed with sufficient materials to draw a sum, which may be employed as taste or fancy shall dictate, in the improvement of my library, a service of plate, &c. I am not very sanguine, but surely this is no uncomfortable prospect. This pecuniary detail, which has not indeed been so unpleasant as it used formerly to be, has carried me farther than I expected. I rejoice in Lally*s prosperity. Have you reconsidered my proposal of a declaration of constitutional principles from the heads of the party ? I think a foolish address from a body of Whigs to tlie National Assembly renders it still more incumbent on you. Achieve my worldly concerns, et eris mihi magnus Apollo. Adieu, ever yours. To the Same. Lausanne, April 4th, 1792. For fear you should abuse me, as usual, I will begin the attack, and scold at you, for not having yet sent me the long-expected intelligence of the completion of my mortgage. Cospetfo di Baccho ! for I must ease myself by swearing a little. What is the cause, the meaning, the pretence of this delay ? Are the Yorkshire mortgagers inconstant in their wishes ? Are the London lawyers constant in their procrastination ? Is a letter on the road, to inform me that all is concluded, or to tell me that all is broken to pieces ? Had the money been placed in the three per cents last May, besides the annual interest, it would have gained by the rise B B 4 3^6 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON of stock nearly twenty per cent. Your lordship is a wise man, a successful writer, and an useful senator ; you understand America and Ireland, corn and slaves ; but your prejudice against the funds ', in which I am often tempted to join, makes you a little blind to their increasing value in the hands of our virtuous and excellent minister. But our regret is vain ; one pull more, and we reach the shore ; and our future correspondence will be no longer tainted with business. Shall I then be more diligent and regular ? I hope and believe so ; for now that I have gOt over this article of worldly interest, my letter seems to be almost finished. u4 propos of letters, am I not a sad dog to forget my Lady and Maria ? Alas ! the dual number has been prejudicial to both. How liappy could I be with either, JVere fotlier dear charmer awai) ! I am like the ass of famous memory ; I cannot tell which way to turn first, and there I stand mute and immovable. The baronial and maternal dig- nity of my Lady, supported by twenty years' friend- ship, may claim the preference. But the five in- comparable letters of Maria ! — Next week, how- ever — Am I not ashamed to talk of next week ? I have most successfully, and most agreeably, executed my plan of spending the month of March at Geneva, in the Necker-house ; and every cir- cumstance that I had arranged, turned out beyond my expectation : the freedom of the morning ; the society of the table and drawing-room, from half an hour past two till six or seven ; an evening I It would l)c more correct if lie had only stated my preference of landed to all other [)roperty. -- S. TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. S77 assembly and card-party, in a round of the best company ; and, excepting one day in the week, a private su])per, of free and friendly conversation. You would like Geneva better than Lausanne ; there is much more information to be got among the men ; but though I found some agreeable women, their manners and style of life are, upon the whole, less easy and pleasant than our own. I was much pleased with Necker's brother, Mr. De Germany, a good-humoured, polite, sensible man, without the genius and fame of the statesman, but much more adapted for private and ordinary happiness. Madame de Stael is expected in a few weeks at Copet, where they receive her, and where, " to dumb forgetfulness a prey," she will have leisure to regret " the pleasing anxious being," which she enjoyed amidst the storms of Paris. But what can the poor creature do ? her husband is in Sweden, her lover is no longer secretary at war, and her father's house is the only place where she can reside with the least degree of prudence and decency. Of that father I have really a much higher idea than I ever had before ; in our do- mestic intimacy he cast away his gloom and reserve ; I saw a oreat deal of his mind, and all that I saw is fair and worthy. He was overwhelmed by the hurricane, he mistook his way in the fog ; but in such a perilous situation, I much doubt w^hether any mortal could have seen or stood. In the mean while, he is abused by all parties, and none of the French in Geneva will set their foot in his house. He remembers Lord Sheffield with esteem ; his health is good, and he would be tranquil in his 378 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON private life, were not his spirits continually wounded by the arrival of every letter and every news})aper. His sympathy is deeply interested by the fatal con- sequences of a revolution, in which he had acted so leading a part ; and he feels as a friend for the danger of M. de Lessart, who may be guilty in the eyes of the Jacobins, or even of his judges, by those very actions and dispatches which would be most approved by all the lovers of his country. What a momentous event is the Emperor's death ! In the forms of a new reign, and of the Imperial election, the democrats have at least gained time, if they knew how to use it. But the new monarch, though of a weak complexion, is of a martial temper ; he loves the soldiers, and is beloved by them ; and the slow fluctuating politics of his uncle may be succeeded by a direct line of march to the gates of Strasbourg and Paris. It is the opinion of the master movers in France (I know it most certainly), that their troops will not fight, that the people have lost all sense of patriotism, and that on the first discharge of an Austrian cannon, the game is up. But what occasion for Austrians or Spaniards ? the French are themselves their greatest enemies ; four thousand Marseillois are marched against Aries and Avignon, the troupes de ligne are divided between the two parties, and the flame of civil war will soon extend over the southern provinces. You have heaid of the unworthy treatment of the Swiss re- giment of Ernest. The canton of Berne has bravely recalled them, with a stout letter to the King of France, which must be inserted in all the papers. I now come to the most unpleasant article, our home TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 3J9 politics. Rosset and La Motte are condemned to fine and twenty years imprisonment in the fortress of Arbourg. We have not yet received their official sentence, nor is it believed that the proofs and proceedings against them will be published ; an awkward circumstance, which it does, not seem easy to justify. Some (though none of note) are taken up, several are fled, many more are suspected and suspicious. All are silent, but it is the silence of fear and discontent ; and the secret hatred which rankled against government begins to point against the few who are known to be well-afFected. I never knew any place so much changed as Lausanne, even since last year ; and though you will not be much obliged to me for the motive, I begin very seriously to think of visiting Sheffield Place by the month of September next. Yet here again I am frightened, by the dangers of a French, and the difficulties of a German, route. You must send me an account of the passage from Dieppe to Brighton, with an itinerary of the Rhine, distances, expenses, &c. As usual, I just save the post, nor have I time to read my letter, which, after wasting the morning in deliberation, has been struck off in a heat since dinner. The views of Sheffield Place are just received ; they are admired, and shall be framed. Severy has spent the carnival at Turin. Trevor is only the best man in the world. To the Same. Lausanne, May 30th, 1792. After the receipt of youv pe?iultimate, eight days ago, I expected, with much impatience, the arrival 380 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON of your next-promised epistle. It arrived this morning, but has not completely answered my ex- pectations. I wanted, and I hoped for a full and fair picture of the present and probable aspect of your political world, with which, at this distance, I seem every day less satisfied. In the slave question you triumphed last session ; in this, you have been defeated. AVhat is the cause of this alteration ? If it proceeded only from an impulse of humanity, I cannot be displeased, even with an error ; since it is very likely that my own vote (had I possessed one) would have been added to the majority. But in this rage against slavery, in the numerous petitions against the slave trade, was there no leaven of new democratical principles ? no wild ideas of the rights and natural equality of man ? It is these I fear. Some articles in news- papers, some pamphlets of theyear, the Jockey Club, have fallen into my hands. I do not infer much from such publications ; yet I have never known them of so black and malignant a cast. I shuddered at Grey's motion ; disliked the half-support of Fox, admired the firmness of Pitt's declaration, and ex- cused the usual intemperance of Burke. Surely such men as****, ********, *******, have talents for mischief. I see a club of reform which contains- some respectable names. Inform me of the pro- fessions, the principles, the ])lans, the resources, of these reformers. Will they heat tlic minds of the people ? Does the French democracy gain no ground? AVill the bulk of your party stand firm to their own interest, and that of their country? Will you not take some active measures to declare your TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 381 sound opinions, and separate yourselves from your rotten members ? If you allow them to perplex government, if you trifle with tliis solemn business, if you do not resist the s])irit of innovation in the first attempt, if you admit the smallest and most specious change in our parliamentary system, you are lost. You will be driven from one step to an- other ; from principles just in theory, to conse- quences most pernicious in practice ; and your first concessions will be productive of every subsequent mischief, for which you will be answerable to your country and to posterity. Do not sufi'er yourselves to be lulled into a false security ; remember the proud fabric of the French monarchy. Not four years ago it stood founded, as it might seem, on the rock of time, force, and opinion, supported by the triple aristocracy of the church, the nobility, and the parliaments. They are crumbled into dust ; they are vanished from the earth. If this tre- mendous warning has no effect on the men of pro- perty in England ; if it does not open every eye, and raise every arm, you will deserve your fate. If I am too precipitate, enlighten ; if I am too de- sponding, encourage me. My pen has run into this argument ; for, as much a foreigner as you think me, on this momentous subject I feel myself an Englishman. The pleasure of residing at Sheffield Place is, after all, the first and the ultimate object of my visit to my native country. But when or how will that visit be effected ? Clouds and whirlwinds, Aus- trian Croats and Gallic cannibals, seem on every side to impede my passage. You appear to apprehend 3S2 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON the perils or difficulties of the German road, and French peace is more sanguinary than civilised war. I must pass through, perhaps, a thousand republics or municipalities, which neither obey nor are obeyed. The strictness of passports, and the popular ferment, are much increased since last summer : aristocrate is in every mouth, lanterns hang in every street, and an hasty word, or a casual resemblance, may be fatal. Yet, on the other hand, it is probable that many English, men, women, and children, will traverse the country without any accident before next September ; and I am sensible that many things appear more formi- dable at a distance than on a nearer approach. Without any absolute determination, we must see what the events of the next three or four months will produce. In the mean while, I shall expect with impatience your next letter: let it be speedy : my answer shall be prompt. You will be glad, or sorry, to learn that my gloomy apprehensions are much abated, and that my departure, whenever it takes place, will be an act of choice, rather than of necessity. I do not pretend to affirm, that secret discontent, dark sus- picion, private animosity, are very materially as- suaged ; but we have not experienced, nor do we now apprehend, any dangerous acts of violence, which may compel me to seek a refuge among the friendly Bears', and to abandon my library to the mercy of the democrats. The firmness and vigour of government have crushed, at least for a time, the spirit of innovation ; and I do not believe that the ' Berne. TO LORD SIIEFFIKLD, AND OTHERS. 383 body of the people, especially the peasants, are dis- posed for a revolution From France, praised be the demon of anarchy! the insurgents of the Pays de Vaud could not at present have much to hope ; and should the gardes nationales, of which there is little appearance, attempt an incursion, tbe country is armed and prepared, and they would be resisted with equal numbers and superior discipline. The Gallic wolves that prowled round Geneva are drawn away, some to the south and some to the north, and the late events in Flanders seem to have diffused a general contempt, as well as abhorrence, for the lawless savages, who fly before the enemy, hang their prisoners, and murder their officers. The brave and patient regiment of Ernest is expected home every day, and as Berne will take them into present pay, that veteran and regular corps will add to the security of our frontier. I rejoice that we have so little to say on the subject of worldly afiairs. This summer we are threatened with an inundation, besides many name- less English and Irish ; but I am anxious for the Duchess of Devonshire, and the Lady Elizabeth Foster, who are on their march. Lord Malmesbury, the audacieux Harris, will inform you that he has seen me : liim I would have consented to keep. One word more before we part ; call upon Mr. John Nicholls, bookseller and printer, at Cicero's Head, Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, and ask him whether he did not, about the beginning of March, receive a very polite letter from Mr. Gibbon of Lausanne? To which, either as a man of business or a civil gentleman, he should have returned an 384 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON answer. My application related to a domestic article in the Gentleman's Magazine of Augnst 1788 (p. 698.), which had lately flillen into my hands, and concerning which I requested some farther lights. Mrs. Moss delivered the letters ^ into my hands, but I doubt whether they will be of much service to me ; the work appears far more difficult in the execution than in the idea, and as I am now taking my leave for some time of the library, I shall not make much progress in the memoirs of P. P. till I am on Englisli ground. But is it indeed true, that I shall eat any Sussex pheasants this autumn ? The event is in the book of Fate, and I cannot unrol the leaves of September and October. Should I reach Sheffield Place, I hope to find the whole family in a perfect state of existence, except a certain Maria Holroyd, myfair and g672e?-oi/5 cor- respondent, whose annihilation on proper terms I most fervently desire. I must receive a copious answer before the end of next month, June, and again call upon you for a map of your political world. The chancellor roars f does he break his chain ? V^ale, To the Same. Lausanne, August 23, 1792. When I inform you, that the design of my English expedition is at last postponed till another year, you will not be much surprised. The public obstacles, the danger of one road, and the difficul- ties of another, would alone be sufficient to arrest so ' His letters to me for a certain period, wliicli lie desired me tp send, to assist him in writing his Memoirs. — S. TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 385 unwieldy and inactive a being; and tliese obstacles, on the side of France, are growing every day more insuperable. On the other hand, tlie terrors which might have driven me from hence have, in a great measure, subsided ; our state prisoners are for- gotten: the country begins to recover its old good humour and unsuspecting confidence, and the last revolution of Paris appears to have convinced almost every body of the fatal consequences of democratical principles, which lead by a path of flowers into the abyss of hell. I may therefore wait with patience and tranquillity till the Duke of Brunswick shall have opened the French road. But if I am not driven from Lausanne, you will ask, I hope with some indignation, whether I am not drawn to England, and more especially to Sheffield Place ? The desire of embracing you and yours is now the strongest, and, must gradually become the sole inducement that can force me from my library and garden, over seas and mountains. The English world will forget and be forgotten, and every year wail deprive me of some acquaintance, who by courtesy are styled friends ; Lord Guilford and Sir Joshua Reynolds ! two of the men, and two of the houses in London, on whom I the most relied for the comforts of society. September 12tli, 1792. Thus far had I written in the full confidence of finishing and sending my letter the next post ; but six post-days have unaccoimtably slij)ped awav, and were you not accustomed to my silence, you would almost begin to think me on the road. How c c ySti LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON dreadfully, since my hist date, has the French road been polluted with blood ! and what horrid scenes may be acting at this moment, and may still be aggravated, till the Duke of Brunswick is master of Paris ! On every rational principle of calculation he must succeed ; yet sometimes, when my spirits are low, I dread the blind efforts of mad and des- perate multitudes fighting on their own ground. A few days or weeks must decide the military opera- tions of this year, and perhaps for ever; but on the fairest supposition, I cannot look forwards to any firm settlement, either of a legal or an absolute government. 1 cannot pretend to give you any Paris news. Should I inform you, as w^e believe, that Lalli) is still among the cannibals^ you would possibly answer, that he is now sitting in the library at Sheffield. Madame de Stacl, after miraculously escaping through pikes and poignards, has reached the castle of Copet, where I shall see her before the end of the week. If any thing can provoke the king of Sardinia and the Swiss, it must be the foul destruction of A/.y cousin Madame de Lamballe, and of tlieir regiment of guards. An extraordinary council is summoned at Berne, hut resentment may he checked by jyrudence. In spite of Maria's laughter, I a})})laud your moderation, and sigh for a hearty union of all the sense and property of tiie country. The times require it ; but your last political letter was a cordial to my spirits. The Duchess of Devon- shire rather dislikes a coalition : amiable creature ! The Eliza is furious against you for not writing. We shall lose them in a few days ; but the motions of the Eliza and the duchess for Italy or England, TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 38? are doubtful. Lady Spencer and Duiicannon cer- tainly })ass the Alps. I live with them. Adieu. Since I do not a})pear in person, I feel the absolute propriety of writing to my Lady and Maria ; but there is far from the knowledge to the performance of a duty. Ever yours. To the Same. Lausanne, October 5th, 1792. As our English newspapers must have informed you of the invasion of Savoy by the French, and as it is possible that you may have some trifling apprehensions of my being killed tmd eaten by those cannibals, it has appeared to me that a short extra- ordinary dispatch might not be unacceptable on this occasion. It is indeed true, that about ten days ago the French army of the South, under the command of M. de Montesquiou (if any French army can be said to be under any command), en- tered Savoy, and possessed themselves of Cham- berry, Montmelian, and several other places. It has always been the practice of the King of Sar- dinia to abandon his transalpine dominions ; but on this occasion the court of Turin appears to have been surprised by the strange eccentric motions of a democracy, which always acts from the passion of the moment ; and their inferior troops have re- treated, with some loss and disgrace, into the passes of the Alps. Mount Cenis is now impervious, and our English travellers who are bound for Italy, the Duchess of Devonshire, Ancaster, &c., will be forced to explore a long circuitous road through the Tyrol. But the Chablais is yet intact, nor can c c 2 388 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON our telescopes discover the tricolour banners on the other side of the lake. Our accounts of the French numbers seem to vary from fifteen to thirty thou- sand men ; the regulars are few, but they are followed by a rabble rout, which must soon, how- ever, melt away, as they will find no plunder, and scanty subsistence, in the poverty and barrenness of Savoy. N. B. I have just seen a letter from M. de Montesquiou, who boasts that at his first en- trance into Savoy he had only twelve battalions. Our intelligence is far from correct. The magistrates of Geneva were alarmed by this dangerous neighbourhood, and more espe- cially by the well-known animosity of an exiled citizen, Claviere, who is one of the six ministers of the French Republic. It was carried by a small majority in the General Council, to call in the suc- cour of three thousand Swiss, which is stipulated by ancient treaty. The strongest reason or pre- tence of the minority, was founded on the danger of provoking the French, and they seem to have been justified by the event: since the complaint of the French resident amounts to a declaration of war. The fortifications of Geneva are not con- temptible, especially on the side of Savoy ; and it is much doubted whether M. de Montesquoiu is prepared for a regular siege ; but the malecontents are numerous within the walls, and I question whe- ther the spirit of the citizens will hold out against a bombardment. In the mean while the diet has declared that the first cannon fired against Geneva will be considered as an act of hostility against the whole Helvetic body. Berne, as the nearest and TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 389 most powerful canton, has taken the lead with great vigour and vigilance ; the road is filled with the perpetual succession of troops and artillery ; and, if some disaffection lurks in the towns, the peasants, especially the Germans, are inflamed with a strong desire of encountering the murderers of their coun- trymen. Mr. de Watteville, with whom you dined at my house last year, refused to accept the com- mand of the Swiss succour of Geneva, till it was made his first instruction that he should never, in any case, surrender himself prisoner of war. In this situation, you may suppose that we have some fears. I have great dependence, however, on the many chances in our favour, the valour of the Swiss, the return of the Piedmontese with their Austrian allies, eight or ten thousand men from the Milanese, a diversion from Spain, the great events (how slowly they proceed) on the side of Paris, the inconstancy and want of discipline of the French, and the near approach of the winter season. I am not nervous, but I will not be rash. It will be painful to abandon my house and library ; but, if the danger should approach, I will retreat before it, first to Berne, and gradually to the North. Should I even be forced to take refuge in England (a violent measure so late in the year), you would perhaps receive me as kindly as you do the French priests — a noble act of hospitality ! Could I have foreseen this storm, I would have been there six weeks ago : but who can foresee the wild measures of the savages of Gaul ? We thought ourselves perfectly out of the hurricane latitudes. Adieu. I am going to bed, and must rise early to visit the c c 3 390 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON Neckers at Rolle, whither tliey have retired, from the frontier situation of Copet. Severy is on horseback, with his dragoons : his poor father is dangerously ill. It will be shocking if it should be found necessary to remove him. While we are in this very awkward crisis, I will write at least every week. Ever yours. Write instantly, and remember all my commissions. Tb the Same. I will keep my promise of sending you a weekly journal of our troubles, that, when the piping times of peace are restored, I may sleep in long and irre- proachable silence : but I shall use a smaller paper, as our military exploits will seldom be sufficient to fill the ample size of our English quarto. October 13, 1792. Since my last of the 6th, our attack is not more imminent, and oiu' defence is most assuredly stronger, two very important circumstances, at a time when every day is leading us, though not so fast as our impatience could wish, towards the un- warlike month of November ; and we observe with pleasure that the troops of M. de Montesquiou, which are chiefly from the Southern Provinces, will not cheerfully entertain the rigour of an Alpine winter. The 7th instant, M. de Chateauneuf, the French resident, took his leave with an haughty mandate, commanding the Genevois, as they valued their safety and the friendship of the Re- public, to dismiss their Swiss allies, and to punish the nuigistrates who liad traiterously proposed the TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 391 calling in these foreign troops. It is precisely the fable of the wolves, who offered to make peace with the sheep, provided they would send away their dogs. You know what became of the sheep. This demand aj)pears to have kindled a just and general indignation, since it announced an edict of proscription ; and must lead to a democratical re- volution, which would probably renew the horrid scenes of Paris and Avignon. A general assembly of the citizens was convened, the message was read, speeches were made, oaths were taken, and it was resolved (with only three dissentient voices) to live and die in the defence of their country. The Genevois muster above three thousand well- armed citizens ; and the Swiss, who may easily be increased (in a few hours) to an equal number, add spirit to the timorous, and confidence to the well- affected : their arsenals are filled with arms, their magazines with ammunition, and their granaries with corn. But their fortifications are extensive and imperfect, they are commanded from two ad- jacent hills ; a French faction lurks in the city, the character of the Genevois is rather commercial than military, and their behaviour, lofty promise, and base surrender, in the year ly^-* is fresh in our memories. In the mean while, four thousand French at the most are arrived in the neighbouring camp, nor is there yet any appearance of mortars or heavy artillery. Perhaps an haughty menace may be repelled by a firm countenance. If it were worth while talking of justice, what a shameful attack of a feeble, unoffending state! On the news of their danger, all Switzerland, from Schafif'hausen c c 4 89^ LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON to the Pays de Vaud, has risen in arms ; and a French resident, who lias passed through the country, in liis way from Ratisbon, declares his intention of informing and admonishing the Na- tional Convention. About eleven thousand Ber- nois are already posted in the neighbourhood of Copet and Nyon ; and new reinforcements of men, artillery, &c. arrive every day. Another army is drawn together to oppose M. de Ferrieres, on the side of Bienne and the bishopric of Basle ; and the Austrians in Swabia would be easily persuaded to cross the Rhine in our defence. But we are yet ignorant whether our sovereigns mean to wage an offensive or defensive war. If the latter, which is more likely, will the French begin ,the attack ? Should Geneva yield to fear or force, this country is open to an invasion ; and though our men are brave, we want generals ; and I despise the French much less than I did two months ago. It should seem that our hopes from the King of Sardinia and the Austrians of Milan are faint and distant j Spain sleeps 5 and the Duke of Brunswick (amazement !) seems to have failed in his great project. For my part, till Geneva falls, I do not think of a retreat ; but, at all events, I am provided with two strong horses, and an hundred Louis in gold. Zurich would be probably my winter quarters, and the society of the Neckers would make any place agreeable. Their situation is worse than mine ; I have no daughter ready to lie in ; nor do I fear the French aristocrats on the road. Adieu. Keep my letters ; excuse contradictions and repe- titions. The Duchess of Devonshire leaves us TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 393 next week. Liidy Elizabeth abhors you. Ever yours. To the Same. October 20, 1792. Since my last, our affairs take a more pacific turn ; but I will not venture to affirm that our peace will be either safe or honourable. M. de Montesquiou and three Commissioners of the Con- vention, who are at Carrouge, have had frequent conferences with the magistrates of Geneva ; se- veral expresses have been dispatched to and from Paris, and every step of the negociation is commu- nicated to the deputies of Berne and Zurich. The French troops observe a very tolerable degree of order and discipline ; and no act of hostility has yet been committed on the territory of Geneva, October 27. My usual temper very readily admitted the excuse, that it would be better to wait another week, till the final settlement of our affairs. The treaty is signed between France and Geneva ; and the ratification of the Convention is looked upon as as- sured, if any thing can be assured, in that wild de- mocracy. On condition that the Swiss garrison, with the approbation of Berne and Zurich, be re- called before the first of December, it is stipulated that the independence of Geneva shall be preserved inviolate ; that M. de Montesquiou shall imme- diately send away his heavy artillery ; and that no French troops shall approach within ten leagues of the city. As the Swiss have acted only as 394 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON auxiliaries, they have no occasion for a direct treaty ; but they cannot prudently disarm, till they are satisfied of the pacific intentions of France ; and no such satisfaction can be given till they have acknowledged the new Republic, which they will probably do in a few days, with a deep groan of indignation and sorrow ; it has been cemented with the blood of their countrymen ! But when the Emperor, the King of Prussia, the first ge- neral and the first army in Europe have failed, less powerful states may acquiesce, without dis- honour, in the determination of fortune. Do you understand this most unexpected failure ? I will allow an ample share to the badness of the roads and the weather, to famine and disease, to the skill of Dumourier, a heaven-born general ! and to the enthusiastic ardour of the new Romans ; but still, still there must be some secret and shameful cause at the bottom of tliis strange retreat. AVe are now delivered from the impending terrors of siege and invasion. The Geneva emigres, particularly tlie Neckers, are hastening to their homes ; and I shall not be reduced to the hard necessity of seeking a winter asylum at Zurich or Constance ; but I am not pleased with our future prospects. It is much to be feared that the present government of Geneva will be soon modelled after the French fashion ; the new republic of Savoy is forming on the opposite bank of tlie Lake ; the Jacobin missionaries are powerful and zealous; and the malecontents of this country, who begin again to rear their heads, will be surrounded with temptations, and examples, and allies. I know not whether the Pays de Vaud Will TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 395 long adhere to the dominion of Berne ; or whether I shall be permitted to end my days in this little paradise which I have so happily suited to my taste and circumstances. Last Monday only I received your letter, which had strangely loitered on the road since- its date of the 29th of September. There must surely be some disorder in the posts, since the Eliza departed indignant at never having heard from you. I am mucli indebted to Mr. Nichols for his genealogical communications, which I am impa- tient to receive ; but I do not understand why so civil a gentleman could not favour me, in six months, with an answer by the post ; since he entrusts me with these valuable papers, you have not, I presume, informed him of my negligence and awkwardness in regard to manuscripts. Your reproach rather surprises me, as I suppose I am much the same as I have been for these last twenty years. Should you hold your resolution of writing only such things as may be published at Charing Cross, our future correspondence would not be very interesting. But I expect and require, at this important crisis, a full and confidential account of your views concerning England, Ireland, and France. You have a strong and clear eye ; and your pen is, perhaps, the mos.t useful quill that ever has been plucked from a goose. Your protec- tion of the French refugees is highly applauded. Rosset and La Motte have escaped from Arbourg, perhaps with connivance to avoid disagreeable demands from the republic. Adieu. Ever yours. 396 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON. To the Same. November 10, 1792. Received this day, November 9th, a most ami- able dispatch from the too humble secretary^ of the family of Espee^ dated October 24th, which I answer the same day. It will be acknowledged, that I have fulfilled my engagements with as much accuracy as our uncertain state and the fragility of human nature would allow. I resume my narra- tive. At the time when we imagined that all was settled, by an equal treaty between two such unequal powers, as the Geneva Flea and the French Leviathan, we were thunderstruck with the intel- ligence that the ministers of the republic refused to ratify the conditions : and they were indignant, with some colour of reason, at the hard obligation of withdrawing their troops to the distance of ten leagues, and of consequently leaving the Pays de Gez naked, and exposed to the Swiss, who had assembled 1.5,000 men on the frontier, and with whom they had not made any agreement. The messenger who was sent last Sunday from Geneva is not yet returned; and many persons are afraid of some design and danger in this delay. Montes- quiou has acted with })oliteness, moderation, and apparent sincerity ; but he may resign, he may be superseded, his place may be occupied by an enrage^ by Servan, or Prince Charles of Hesse, who would aspire to imitate the predatory fame of Custine in Germany. In the mean while, the I Miss Ilolroyd. - Meaning Sheffield Place. TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 397 General holds a wolf by the ears ; an officer who has seen his troops, about 18,000 men (with a tre- mendous train of artillery), represents them as a black, daring, desperate crew of buccaneers, rather shocking than contemptible ; the officers (scarcely a gentleman among them) without servants, or horses, or baggage, lying higgledy jnggledr/ on the ground with the common men, yet maintaining a rough kind of discipline over them. They already begin to accuse and even to suspect their general, and call aloud for blood and plunder : could they have an opportunity of squeezing some of the rich citizens, Geneva would cut up as fat as most towns in Europe. During this suspension of hostilities they are permitted to visit the city without arms, sometimes three or four hundred at a time; and the magistrates, as well as the Swiss commander, are by no means pleased with this dangerous inter- course, which they dare not prohibit. Such are our fears : yet it should seem, on the other side, that the French affect a kind of magnanimous justice towards their little neighbour, and that they are not ambitious of an unprofitable contest with the poor and hardy Swiss. The Swiss are not equal to a long and expensive war ; and as most of our militia have families and trades, the country already sighs for their return. Whatever can be yielded, without absolute danger or disgrace, will doubtless be granted ; and the business will probably end in our owning the sovereignty, and trusting to the good faith of the republic of France j liow that word woidd have sounded four years ago ! The measure is humiliating ; but after the 398 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON retreat of the Duke of Brunswick, and the failure of the Austrians, tlie smaller powers may acquiesce without dishonour. Every dog has his day ; and these Gal he dogs have their day, at least, of most insolent prosperity. After forcing or tempting the Prussians to evacuate their country, they conquer Savoy, pillage Germany, threaten Spain : the Low Countries are ere now invaded ; Rome and Italy tremble ; they scour the Mediterranean, and talk of sending a squadron into the South Sea. The whole horizon is so black, that I begin to feel some anxiety for England, the last refuge of liberty and law ; and the more so, as 1 perceive from Lord Sheffield's last epistle that his firm nerves are a little shaken : but of this more in my next, for I want to unburden my conscience. If England, with tlie experience of our happiness and French calamities, should now be seduced to eat the apple of false freedom, we should indeed deserve to be driven from the paradise which we enjoy. I turn aside from the horrid and improbable (yet not impossible) supposition, that, in three or four years* time, myself and my best friends may be reduced to the deplorable state of the French emigrants ; they thought it as impossible three or four years ago. Never did a revolution affect, to such a degree, the private existence of such numbers of the first people of a great country : your examples of misery I could easily match with similar ex- amples in this country and the neighbourhood ; and our sympathy is the deeper, as we do not possess, like you, the means of alleviating, in some degree, the misfortunes of tlie fugitives. But I must have, TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 309 from tlie very excellent pen of the Maria, the tra- gedy of the Archbishop of Aries ; and the longer tiie better. Madame de Biron lias probably been tempted by some faint and (I fear) fallacious promises of clemency to the women, and which have likewise engaged Madame d'Aguesseau and her two daughters to revisit France. Madame de Bouillon stands her ground, and her situation as a foreign princess is less exposed. As Lord Sheffield has assumed the glorious character of protector of the distressed, his name is pronounced with gra- titude and respect. The Duke of Richmond is praised, on Madame de Biron's account. To the Princess d'Henin, and Lally, I wish to be remem- bered. The Neckers cannot venture into Geneva, and Madame de Stael will probably lie in at Rolle. He is printing a defence of the King, &c. against their republican Judges ; but the name of Necker is unpopular to all parties, and I much fear that the guillotine will be more speedy than the press. It will, however, be an eloquent performance ; and, if I find an opportunity, 1 am to send you one, to you Lord Sheffield, by his particular desire : he wishes likewise to convey some copies with speed to our principal people, Pitt, Fox, Lord Stormont, &c. But such is the rapid succession of events, that it will appear like the Pouvoir Executif, his best work, after the whole scene has been totally changed. Ever yours. P. S. The revolution of France, and my triple dispatch by the same post to Sheffield Place, are, in my opinion, the two most singular 400 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON events in tlie eighteenth century. I found the task so easy and pleasant, that I had some thoughts of adding a letter to the gentle Louisa. I am this moment informed, that our troops on the frontier are beginning to move, on their return home ; yet we liear nothing of the treaty's being concluded. Edward Gibbon, Esq. to the Hon. Miss Holroyd. Lausanne, Nov. 10, 1792. In dispatching the weekly political journal to Lord Sheffield, my conscience (for I have some remains of conscience) most powerfully urges me to salute, with some lines of friendship and gratitude, tlie amiable secretary, who might save herself the trouble of a modest apology. I have not yet for- gotten ojr diiferent behaviour after the much lamented separation of October the 4th, 1791 > your meritorious punctuality, and my unworthy silence. I have still before me that entertaining narrative, which would have interested me, not only in the progress of the carissimafaniiglia, but in the motions of a Tartar camp, or the march of a caravan of Arabs ; the mixture of just observation and lively imagery, the strong sense of a man, ex- pressed with the easy elegance of a female. I still recollect watli pleasure the happy comparison of the Rhine, who had heard so much of liberty on both his banks, that he wandered with mischievous licentiousness over all the adjacent meadows.' ' Mr. Gibbon alludes to letters written to him by Miss Ilolroyci, when she was returnin^j from Switzerland, along the Rhine to England. — S. TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 401 The inundation, alas ! has now spread much wider ; and it is sadly to be feared that the Elbe, the Po, and the Danube, may imitiate the vile example of the Rhine : I shall be content, however, if our own Thames still preserves his fair character of Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full.' These agreeable epistles of Maria produced only some dumb intentions, and some barren remorse ; nor have I deigned, except by a brief missive from my chancellor, to express how much I loved the author, and how much I was pleased with the composition. That amiable author I have known and loved from the first dawning of her life and coquetry^ to the present maturity of her talents ; and as long as I remain on this planet, I shall pur- sue, with the same tender and even anxious con- cern, the future steps of her establishment and life. That establishment must be splendid ; that life must be happy. She is endowed with every gift of nature and fortune ; but the advantage which she will derive from them, depends almost entirely on herself. You must not, you shall not, think yourself unworthy to write to any man : there is none whom your correspondence would not amuse and satisfy. I will not undertake a task which my taste would adopt, and my indolence would too soon relinquish ; but I am really curious, from the best motives, to have a particular account of your own studies and daily occupation. What books do you read ? and how do you employ your time and your pen ? Except some professed scho- lars, I have often observed that women in general D D 402 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON read much more than men ; but, for want of a plan, a method, a fixed object, then' reading is of httle benefit to themselves, or others. If you will inform me of the species of reading to which you have the most propensity, I shall be happy to con- tribute my share of advice or assistance. I lament that you have not left me some monument of your pencil. Lady Elizabeth Foster has executed a very pretty drawing, taken from the door of the oTcen-house wdiere we dined last summer, and in- eluding the poor Acacia (now recovered from the cruel shears of the gardener), the end of the terrace, the front of the Pavilion, and a distant view of the country, lake, and mountains. I am almost recon- ciled to d' Apples' house, w^hich is nearly finished. Instead of the monsters which Lord Hercules Shef- field extirpated, the terrace is already shaded with the new acacias and plantains ; and although the uncertainty of possession restrains me from build- ing, I myself have planted a bosquet at the bottom of the garden, with such admirable skill that it af- fords shade without intercepting prospect. The society of the aforesaid Eliza, of the Duchess of Devonshire, &c. has been very interesting ; but tliey are now flown beyond the Alps, and pass the winter at Pisa. The Legards, who have long since left this place, should be at present in Italy 5 but I believe Mrs. Grimstone and her daughter returned to England. The Levades are highly flattered by your remembrance. Since you still retain some attachment to this delightful country, and it is indeed delightful, why should you despair of seeing it once more? The ha})py peer or commoner, TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 403 whose name you may assume, is still concealed in tlie book of fate ; but, whosoever he may be, he will cheerfully obey your commands, of leading you from Castle to Lausanne, and from Lausanne, to Rome and Naples. Before that event takes place, I may possibly see you in Sussex ; and, whether as a visitor or a fugitive, I hope to be W'elcomed with a friendly embrace. The delay of this year was truly painful, but it was inevitable ; and individuals must submit to those storms which have overturned the thrones of the earth. The tragic story of the Archbishop of Aries I have now somewhat a better right to require at your hands. I wish to have it in all its horrid details ^ ; and as 1 The answer to Mr. Gibbon's letter is annexed, as giving the best account I have seen of the barbarous transaction alhuled to. — S. " Sheffield-Place, November, 1792. " Your three letters received yesterday caused the most sincere pleasure to each individual of this family ; to none more than myself. Praise (I fear, beyond my deserts), from one whose opinion I so highly value, and whose esteem I so much wish to preserve, is more pleasing than I can describe. I had not neglected to make the collection of facts which }ou recommend, and which the great variety of unfor- tunate persons whom we see, or with whom we correspond, enables me to make. " As to that part of your letter which respects my studies, I can only say, the slightest hint on that subject is always received with the greatest gratitude, and attended to with the utmost punctuality ; but I must decline that topic for the present, to obey your commands, which reqviire from me the horrid account of the massacre aux Carmcs. — Eight respectable ecclesiastics landed about tlie beginning of October, from an open boat at Seaford, wet as the waves. The natives of the coast were endeavouring to get from them what they had not, (viz.) mone}^ when a gentleman of the neighbourhood came to their pro- tection ; and, finding they had nothing, showed his good sense, by dis- patching them to Milord Sheffield : they had been pillaged, and with great difficulty had escaped from Paris. The reception they met with at this house, seemed to make the greatest impression on tliem ; they were in ecstasy on finding M. de Lally living : they gradually became cheerful, and enjoyed their 'dinner : tiiey were greatly affected as they recollected themselves, and found us attending on them. Having dined, and drank a glass of wine, they began to discover the beauties D D 2 401 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON you are now so much mingled witli the French exiles, I am of opinion, that were you to keep a of the dining-room and of the chateau: as they walked about, they were overheard to ex[)ress their admiration at the treatment they met, and from I'rotf.shnif.s-. We then asseml)letl in the Hbrary, formed half a circle round the fire, M. tie Lally and Milord occupying the hearth, « la Aiig/oisc, and questioning the })riests concerning their escape. Thus we discovered, that two of these imfortimate men were in the Car- melite convent at the time of the massacre of the one hundred and twenty priests, and had most miraculously escaped by climbing trees in the garden, and from thence over the tops of the buildings. One of them, a man of superior appearance, described, in the most pathetic manner, the death of the arciibishop of Aries, to the following purport, and with such simplicit}^ and feeling, as to leave no doubt of the truth of all that he said. — On the second of September, about five o'clock in the evening, at the time they were permitted to walk in the garden, ex- pecting every hour to be released, they expressed their surprise at seeing several large pits, which had been digging for two days past : they said, ' The day is almost spent ; and yet Manuel told a ])erson who interceded for us last Thursday, that on the Sunday following not one should remain in captivity : we are still prisoners.' Soon after they heard shouts, and some musquet-shots. An ensign of the national-iguard, seme commissaries of the sections, and some INIarseillois rushed in : the miserable victims, who were dispersed, in the garden, assembled under the walls of the church, not daring to go in, lest it should be polluted with blood. One man, who was behind the rest, was shot. ' Point c/e coup defusil,^ cried one of the chiefs of the assassins, thinking that kind of death too easy. These well-trained fusileers went to the rear ; les piques, les haches, les poignards came forward. They de- manded the Archbishop of Aries ; he was immediately surrounded by all the priests. The worthy prelate said to his friends, ' Let me pass ; if my blood will appease them, what signifies it, if I die ? Ls it not my duty to preserve your lives at the expense of my own ?' He asked the eldest of the priests to give him absolution : he knelt to receive it ; and when he arose, forceil himself from them, advanced slowly, and with his arms crossed upon his breast, and his eyes raised to heaven, said to the assassins, ' Jc suis cclni que vous chcrclicz.'' His appearance was so dignified and noble, that, during ten minutes, not one of tiiese wretches had courage to lift his hand against him : they upbraided each other with cowardice, and advanced ; one look from this venerable man struck them with awe, ami they retired. At last, one of the mis- creants struck off the cap of the arciibishop witli a pike ; respect once violated, their fury returned, and another from behind cut him through the skull with a sabre. lie raised his right hand to his eyes ; with an- other stroke they cut offhis hand. The Archbishop said H)! inoii J)icu!' and raised the other : a third stroke across the face left him sitting; the fourth extended him lifeless on the ground ; and then all pressed forward, and buried their pikes and poignards in the body. The priests all agreed, that he iiad l)cen one of the most amiable men in France ; and tiuit his only crime was having, since the revolution, expended his TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 405 journal of all the authentic facts which they relate, it would be an agreeable exercise at present, and a future source of entertainment and instruction. I should be obliged to you, if you would make, or find, some excuse for my not answering a letter from your aunt, wliicli was presented -to me by Mr. Fowder. I showed him some civilities, but he is now a poor invalid, confined to his room. By her channel and yours I should be glad to have some information of the health, spirits, and situation of Mrs. Gibbon of Bath, whose alarms (if she has any) you may dispel. She is in my debt. Adieu ; most truly yours. private fortune, to support the necessitous clergy of his diocese. Tiie second victim was the General des Benedictines. Then the national guards ol)liged the priests to go into the church, telling them, they should appear, one after another, before the (^^ommissaires du section. They had hardly entered, before the people im|)atiently called for them; upon which, all kneeling before the altar, the Jiishop of Beauvais gave them absolution ; they were then obliged to go out, two by two ; tiiey passed before a coinmissaire, who did not question, but only counted, his victims *; they had in their sight the heaps of dead, to which they were going to add. Among the one hundred and twenty priests thus sacrificed, were the Bishops of Zaintes and Beauvais (both of the Rochefoucauld family). I should not omit to remark, that one of the priests observed, they were assassinated, because they would not swear to a constitution which their murderers hud destroyed. We had (to comfort us for this melancholy story) the most grateful expressions of gratitude towards the English nation, from whom they did not do us the justice to expect such a reception. " There can be no doubt that the whole business of the massacres was concerted at a meeting 'at the Duke of Orleans' house. I shall make you as dismal as myself by this narration. I must change the style." *********** Citoyen Gibbon, je suis ton egal. " Maria J. Holkovu." * Visum est leuti quaesisse noccntem In numerum pars magna perit. Luc an, lib.ii. ver. 1 10. D D o 40() LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON Edward Gibbon, Esq., to flie Rigid Hon. hadi) Sheffield, Lausanne, November 10th, 1792. I could never forgive myself, were I capable of writing by the same post a political epistle to the father, and a friendly letter to the daughter, without sending any token of remembrance to the respec- table matron, my dearest my Lady, whom I have now loved as a sister for something better or worse than twenty years. No, indeed, tlie historian may be careless, he may be indolent, he may always in- tend and never execute, but he is neither a monster nor a statue ; he has a memory, a conscience, a heart, and that heart is sincerely devoted to Lady Sheffield. He must even acknowledge the fallacy of a sophism which he has sometimes used, and she has always and most truly denied ; that, where the persons of a family are strictly united, the writing to one is in fact writing to all ; and that conse- quently all his numerous letters to the husband may be considered as equally addressed to his wife. He feels, on the contrary, that separate minds have their distinct ideas, and sentiments, and that each character, either in speaking or writing, has its pe- culiar tone of conversation. He agrees with the maxim of Rousseau, that three friends who wish to disclose a common secret, Avill impart it only deux a deux ; and he is satisfied that on the present memorable occasion, each of the persons of the Sheffield famaly will claim a peculiar share in this tri])le missive, which will communicate, liowever, a triple satisfaction. The experience of what may TO LORD SIlEFriELD, AND OTHERS. 407 be effected by vigorous resolution, encourages the historian to Jiope that he sliall cast the skin of the old serpent, and hereafter show himself as a new creature. I lament, on all our accounts, that the last year*s expedition to Lausanne did not take place in a golden period, of health and spirits. But we must reflect, that human felicity is seldom without alloy ; and if we cannot indulge the hope of your making a second visit to Lausanne, we must look forwards to my residence next summer at Sheffield-Place, where I must find you in the full bloom of health, spirits, and beauty. I can perceive, by all public and private intelligence, that your house has been the open hospitable asylum of French fugitives ; and it is a sufficient proof of the firmness of your nerves, that you have not been overwhelmed or agitated by such a concourse of strangers. Curi- osity and compassion may, in some degree, have supported you. Every day has presented to your view some new scene of that strange tragical romance, which occupies all Europe so infinitely beyond any event that has happened in our time, and you have the satisfaction of not being a mere spectator of the distress of so many victims of false liberty. The benevolent fame of Lord S. is widely diffused. From Angletine's last letter to Maria, you have already, some idea of the melancholy state of her poor father. As long as Mr. de Severy allowed our hopes and fears to fluctuate with the changes of his disorder, I was unwilling to say any thing on so painful a subject ; and it is with the deepest D D A 408 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON concern that I now confess our absolute despair of his recovery. All liis particular complaints are now lost in a general dissolution of the whole frame ; every principle of life is exhausted, and as often as I am admitted to his bed-side, though he still looks and smiles with the patience of an angel, I have the heart-felt grief of seeing him each day drawing nearer to the term of his existence. A few weeks, possibly a few days, will deprive me of a most excellent friend, and break for ever the most perfect system of domestic happiness, in which I had so large and intimate a share. Wilhelm (who has obtained leave of absence from his military duty) and his sister behave and feel like tender and dutiful children ; but they have a long gay pro- spect of life, and new connections, new families, vs^ill make them forget, in due time, the common lot of mortality. But it is Madame de Severy whom I truly pity ; I dread the effects of the first shock, and I dread still more the deep perpetual consuming affliction for a loss which can never be retrieved. You will not wonder that such re- flections sadden my own mind, nor can I forget how much my situation is altered since I retired, nine years ago, to the banks of the Leman Lake. The death of poor Deyverdun first deprived me of a domestic companion, who can never be supplied ; and your visit has only served to remind me that man, however amused and occupied in his closet, was not made to live alone. Severy will soon be no more ; his widow for a long time, perhaps for ever, will be lost to liersclf and her friends, the son will travel, and I shall be left a stranger in the in- TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 409 sipid circle of mere common acquaintance. The revolution of France, which first embittered and divided the society of Lausanne, has opposed a barrier to my Sussex visit, and may finally expel me from the paradise which I inhabit. Even that paradise, the expensive and delightful establishment of my house, library, and garden, almost becomes an incumbrance, by rendering it more difficult for me to relinquish my hold, or to form a new system of life in my native country, for which my in- come, though improved and improving, would be probably insufficient. But every complaint should be silenced by the contemplation of the French ; compared with whose cruel fate, all misery is re- lative happiness. I perfectly concur in your par- tiality for Lally ; though nature might forget some meaner ingredients of prudence, economy, &c. she never formed a purer heart or a brighter ima- gination. If he be with you, I beg my kindest sahitations to him. I am every day more closely united with the Neckers. Should France break, and this country be over-run, they would be re- duced in very humble circumstances to seek a re- fuge ; and where but in England ? Adieu, dear Madam, there is indeed much pleasure in dis- charging one's heart to a real friend. Ever yours. To the Same. Lausanne, Nov. 25tli, 1792. After the triple labour of my last dispatch, your experience of the creature might tempt you to add, suspect that it would again relapse into a long 410 LETTERS niOM MR. GIBBON slumber. But, partly from the spirit of contradic- tion (though I am not a lady), and partly from the ease and pleasure which I now find in the task, you see me again alive, awake, and almost faithful to my hebdomadal promise. The last week has not, however, afforded any events deserving the notice of an historian. Our affairs are still floating on tlie waves of the Convention, and the ratification of a corrected treaty, which had been fixed for the twentieth is not yet arrived ; but the report of the diplomatic committee has been favourable, and it is generally understood that the leaders of the French republic do not wish to quarrel with the Swiss. We are gradually withdrawing and dis- banding our militia. Geneva will be left to sink or swim, according to the humour of the people ; and our last hope appears to be, that by submission and good behaviour we shall avert for some time the impending storm. A few days ago, an odd accident happened in the French army ; the deser- tion of the general. As the Neckers were sitting about eight o'clock in the evening, in their draw- ing-room at Rolle ', the door flew open, and they were astounded by their servant's announcing Monsieui' le General de Montesquieu ! On the receipt of some secret intelligence of a decret d^ac- cusation, and an order to arrest him, he had only time to get on horseback, to gallop through Ge- neva, to take boat for Copet, and to escape from his pursuers, who were ordered to seize him alive or dead. He left the Neckers after supper, passed tln'ough Lausanne in the night, and proceeded to I A considerable town between Lausainie and Geneva. TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 411 Berne and Basle, whence he intended to wind his way througli Germany, amidst enemies of every description, and to seek a refuge in England, Ame- rica, or the moon. He told Necker, that the sole remnant of liis fortune consisted in a wretched sum of twenty thousand livres ; but the public re- port or suspicion bespeaks him in much better cir- cumstances. Besides the reproach of acting with too much tameness and delay, he is accused of making very foul and exorbitant contracts ; and it is certain that new Sparta is infected with this vice, beyond the example of the most corrupt mo- narchy. Kellerman is arrived to take the com- mand ; and it is apprehended that on the first of December, after the departure of the Swiss, the French may request the permission of using Ge- neva, a friendly city, for their winter quarters. In that case the democratical revolution, which we all foresee, will be very speedily effected. I would ask you, whether you apprehend there was any treason in the Duke of Brunswick's re- treat, and whether you have totally withdrawn your confidence and esteem from that once famed ge- neral ? Will it be possible for England to preserve her neutrality with any honour or safety ? We are bound, as I understand, by treaty, to guarantee the dominions of the King of Sardinia and the Aus- trian provinces of the Netherlands. These coun- tries are now invaded and over-run by the French. Can we refuse to fulfil our engagements, without exposing ourselves to all Europe as a perfidious or pusillanimous nation ? Yet, on the other hand, can we assist those allies, without plunging headlong 412 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON into an abyss, whose bottom no man can discover ? But my chief anxiety is for our domestic tranquil- lity ; for I must find a retreat in England, should I be driven from Lausanne. The idea of firm and honourable union of parties pleases me much ; but you must frankly inifold what are the great diffi- culties that may impede so salutary a measure : you write to a man discreet in speech, and now careful of papers. Yet what can such a coalition avail ? Where is tlie champion of the constitu- tion ? Alas, Lord Guildford ! I am much pleased with the Manchester Ass. The asses or wolves who sacrificed him have cast off the mask too soon ; and such a nonsensical act must open the eyes of many simple patriots, who might have been led astray by the specious name of reform. It should be made as notorious as possible. Next winter may be the crisis of our fate, and if you begin to improve the constitution, you may be driven step by step from the disfranchisement of old Sarum to the King in Newgate, the Lords voted useless, the Bishops abolished, and a House of Commons without articles (amis culottes). Necker has ordered you a copy of his royal de- fence, which has met with, and deserved, univer- sal success. The pathetic and argumentative parts are, in my opinion, equally good, and his mild elo- quence may persuade without irritating. I have aj)])lied to this gentler tone some verses of Ovid (Metamorph. 1. iii. 302, &c.^), which you may read. 1 Qua tanicn usque potest, vires sibi dcmcrc tentat. Ncc, quo ccntiinanum dcjecerat ii^ue TyplKJca, Nunc arniatur eo : nimiuni feritatis in illo. Est aliud Icvius fulmen ; cui dcxtra (Jyclopum Sa-vitia*, flainnia-que minus, uunus addidit ira; ; Tela seciuida vocant Superi. TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 413 JMadame tie Stael has produced a second son. She talks wildly enough of visiting England this win- ter. She is a pleasant little woman. Poor Severy's condition is hopeless. Should he drag through the winter, Madame de Severy would scarcely survive him. She kills herself with grief and fa- tigue. AVhat a difference in Lausanne ! I hope ti'iple answers are on the road. I must write soon ; the times will not allow me to read or think. Ever yours. To the Same. Lausanne, Dec. 14th, 1792. Our little storm has now completely subsided, and we are again spectators, though anxious spec- tators, of the general tempest that invades or threatens almost every country of Europe. Our troops are every day disbanding and returning home, and the greatest part of the French have evacuated the neighbourhood of Geneva. Mon- sieur Barthelemy, whom you have seen secre- tary in London, is most courteously entertained, as ambassador, by the Helvetic body. He is now at Berne, where a diet will speedily be convened : the language on both sides is now pacific, and even friendly, and some hopes are given of a provision for the officers of the Swiss guards who have sur- vived the massacres of Paris. January 1st, 1793. With the return of peace I have relapsed into my former indolence ; but now awakening, after a fortnight's slumber, I have littleor nothing to add, 414 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON with regard to the internal state of this country, only the revolution of Geneva has already taken place, as I announced, but sooner than I expected. The Swiss troops had no sooner evacuated the place, than the Egaliseurs, as they are called, as- sembled in arms ; and as no resistance was made, no blood was shed on the occasion. They seized the gates, disarmed the garrison, imprisoned the ma- gistrates, imparted the rights of citizens to all the rabble of the town and country, and proclaimed a National Convention, which has not yet met. They are all for a pure and absolute democracy ; but some wish to remain a small independent state, while others aspire to become a part of the republic of France ; and as the latter, though less numerous, are more violent and absurd than their adversaries, it is highly probable that they will succeed. The citizens of the best families and fortunes have re- tired from Geneva into the Pays de Vaud ; but the French methods of recalling or proscribing emi- grants, will soon be adopted. You must have ob- served, that Savoy is now become h depariement du Mont Blanc. I cannot satisfy myself, whether the mass of the people is pleased or displeased with the change ; but my noble scenery is clouded by the democratical aspect of twelve leagues of the opposite coast, which every morning obtrude them- selves on my view. I here conclude the first part of the history of our Alpine troubles, and now consider myself as disengaged from all promises of periodical writing. Upon the whole, I kept it beyond our exj)ectation j nor do I think that you TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 415 have been sufficiently astonished by the wonderful effort of the triple despatch. You must now succeed to my task, and I shall expect, during the winter, a regular political journal of the events of your greater world. You are on the theatre, and may often be behind the scenes. You can always see, and may sometimes foresee. My own choice has indeed transported me into a foreign land ; but I am truly attached, from interest and inclination, to my native country ; and even as a citizen of the world, I wish the stability of England, the sole great refuge of man- kind, against the opposite mischiefs of despotism and democracy. I was indeed alarmed, and the more so, as I saw that you were not without appre- hension ; but I now glory in the triumph of reason and genuine patriotism, which seems to pervade the country ; nor do I dislike some mixture of popular enthusiasm, which may be requisite to encounter our mad or wicked enemies with equal arms. The behaviour of Fox does not surprise me. You may remember what I told you last year at Lausanne when you attempted his defence, that his inmost soul was deeply tinged with democracy. Such wild opinions cannot easily be reconciled with his excellent understanding, but " it is true^ His inty, and pity it is 'tis true" He will surely ruin himself in the opinion of the wise and good men of his own party. You have crushed the daring subverters of the constitution ; but I now fear the moderate well-meaners, reformers. Do not, I be- seech you, tamper with parliamentary represent- ation. The present house of commons forms, in 416 LETTERS FROM MR. GIRBON practice^ a body of gentlemen, who must always sympathise witli tlic interests and opinions of the people ; and the slightest innovation launches you, without rudder or compass, on a dark and dangerous ocean of theoretical experiment. On this subject I am indeed serious. Upon the whole, I like the beginning of ninety- three better than the end of ninety-two. The illu- sion seems to break away throughout Europe. I think England and Switzerland are safe. Brabant adheres to its old constitution. The Germans are disgusted with the rapine and insolence of their deliverers. The Pope is resolved to head his armies, and the Lazzaroni of Naples have presented St. Januarius with a goldfuzee, to fire on the Brigands Fran9ois. So much for politics, which till now never had such possession of my mind. Next post I will write about myself and my own designs. Alas, your poor eyes! make the Maria write; I will speedily answer her. My Lady is still dumb. The German posts are now slow and irregular. You had better write by the way of France, under cover. Direct to Le Citoijen Rehours a Pontalier, France. Adieu ; ever yours. To the Same. Lausanne, Januarv Otii, 1793. There was formerly a time wlien our corre- spondence was a painful discussion of my private affairs ; a vexatious repetition of losses, of disap- pointments, of sales, &c. These affairs are decently arranged : but public cares have now succeeded TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 417 to private anxiety, and our whole attention is lately turned from Lenborougli and Beriton, to the political state of France and of Europe. From these politics, however, one letter shall be free, while I talk of myself and of my own plans ; a subject most interesting to a fi'iend, and only to a friend. I know not whether I am sorry or glad that my expedition has been postponed to the present year. It is true, that I now wish myself in England, and almost repent that I did not grasp the opportunity when the obstacles were comparatively smaller than they are now likely to ])rove. Yet had I reached you last summer before the month of August, a considerable portion of my time would be now elapsed, and I should already begin to think of my departure. If tiie gout should spare me this winter (and as yet I have not felt any symptom), and if the spring should make a soft and early appearance, it is my intention to be with you in Downing-street before the end of April, and thus to enjoy six weeks or two months of the most agreeable season of London and the neigh- bourhood, after the hurry of parliament is subsided, and before tlie great rural dispersion. As the banks of the Rhine and the Belgic provinces are completely overspread with anarchy and war, I have made up my mind to pass through the terri- tories of the French republic. From the best and most recent information, I am satisfied that there is little or no real danger in the journey ; and I must arm myself with patience to support the vexatious insolence of democratical tyranny. I E E 418 LETTERS FRO^AI MR. GIBBON have even a sort of curiosity to spend some days at Paris, to assist at the debates of the Pandae- monium, to seek an introduction to the principal devils, and to conteniphite a new form of public and private life, which never existed before, and which I devoutly hope will not long continue to exist. Should the obstacles of health or weather confine me at Lausanne till the month of May, I shall scarcely be able to resist the temptation of passing some part at least of the summer in my own little paradise. But all these schemes must ultimately depend on the great question of peace and war, which will indeed be speedily deter- mined. Should France become impervious to an English traveller, what must I do ? I shall not easily resolve to explore my way through the un- known language and abominable roads of the interior parts of Germany, to embark in Holland, or perhaps at Hamburgh, and to be finally inter- cepted by a French ])rivateer. My stay in Eng- land appears not less doubtful than the means of transporting myself. Should I arrive in the spring, it is possible, and barely possible, that I should return here in the autumn : it is much more pro- bable that I shall pass the winter, and there may be even a chance of my giving my own country a longer trial. In my letter to my Lady I fliirly exposed tlie decline of Lausanne ; but sucli an establishment as mine must not be lightly aban- doned ; nor can I discover what adequate mode of life my private circumstances, easy as they now are, could afford me in England. London and Bath have doubtless their res])cctive merits, and I TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 4!9 could wish to reside within a day's journey of Sheffield-Place. But a state of perfect happiness is not to be found here below ; and in the posses- sion of my library, house, and garden, with the relics of our society, and a frequent intercourse with the Neckers, I may still be tolerably content. Among the disastrous changes of Lausanne, I must prmcipally reckon the approaching dissolution of poor Severy and his family. He is still alive, but in such a hopeless and painful decay, that we no longer conceal our wishes for his speedy release. I never loved nor esteemed him so much as in this last mortal disease, which he supports with a degree of energy, patience, and even cheerfulness, beyond all belief. His wife, whose whole time and soul are devoted to him, is almost sinking under her long anxiety. The children are most amiably assiduous to both their parents, and, at all events, his filial duties and worldly cares must detain the son some time at home. And now approach, and let me drop into your most private ear a literary secret. Of the Memoirs little has been done, and with that little I am not satisfied. They must be postponed till a mature season ; and I much doubt whether the book and the author can ever see the light at the same time. But I have long revolved in my mind another scheme of biographical writing ; the Lives, or rather the Characters, of the most eminent Persons in Arts and Arms, in Church and State, who have flourished in Britain from the reign of Henry the Eighth to the present age. This work, extensive as it may be, would be an amusement, rather than E E 2 450 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON a toil : tlie materials are accessible in our own lan- guage, and, for the most part, ready to my hands : but the subject, which would afford a rich display of human nature and domestic history, would powerfully address itself to the feelings of every Englishman. The taste or fashion of the times seemsto delightinpicturescpie decorations; and this series of British portraits might aptly be accom- panied by the respective heads, taken from originals, and engraved by the best masters. Alderman Boydell, and his son-in-law, Mr. George Nicol, bookseller in Pall-mall, are the great undertakers in this line. On my arrival in England I shall be free to consider, whether it may suit me to proceed in a mere literary work without any other decorations than those which it may derive from the pen of the author. It is a serious truth, that I am no longer ambitious of fame or money ; that my habits of in- dustry are much impaired, and that I have reduced my studies, to be the loose amusement of my morn- ing hours, the repetition of which will insensibly lead me to the last term of existence. And for this very reason I shall not be sorry to bind myself by a liberal engagement, from which I may not witli honour recede. ]5efore I conclude, we must say a word or two of parliamentary and pecuniary concerns. 1. We all admire the generous spirit with which you damned the assassins. I hope that your abjuration of all future connexion with Fox was not quite so peremptory as it is stated in the French papers. Let him do what he will, I nuist love the dog. The opinion of parliament in favour of Louis was TO LOUD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 4'21 declared in a manner worthy of the representatives of a great and a wise nation. It will certainly have a powerful effect ; and if the poor king be not already murdered, I am satisfied that his life is in safety : but is such a life worth his care ? Our debates will now become every day- more in- teresting ; and as I expect from you only opinions and anecdotes, I most earnestly conjure you to send me Woodfall's Register as often (and that must be very often) as the occasion deserves it. I now spare no expense for news. I want some account of Mrs. G.'s health. Will my lady never write ? How can people be so indo- lent ! I suppose this will find you at Sheffield- Place during the recess, and that the heavy bag- gage will not move till after the birth-day. Shall I be with you by the first of May ? Tlie gods only know. I almost wish that I had accomnanied Madame de Stael. Ever yours. To the Same. Begun Feb. 9,— ended Feb. 18, 1793. The struggle is at length over, and poor De Severy is no more. He expired about ten days ago, after every vital principle had been exhausted by a complication of disorders, which had lasted above five mpnths : and a mortification in one of his legs, that gradually rose to the more noble parts, was the immediate cause of his death. His patience and even cheerfulness suj)ported him to the fatal mo- ment: and he enjoyed every comfort that could alleviate his situation, the skill of his physicians, £ E 3 422 LETTERS FROM MR. GIEBON the assiduous tenderness of his family, and the kind sympathy not only of his particular friends, but even of common acquaintance, and generally of the whole town. The stroke has been severely felt; yet I have the satisfaction to perceive that Madame de Severy's health is not affected ; and we may hope that in time she will recover a tolerable share of composure and happiness. Her firmness has checked the violent sallies of grief ; her gentleness has preserved her from the worst of symptoms, a dry, silent despair. She loves to talk of her irre- parable loss, she descants with pleasure on his virtues : her words are interruj)ted with tears, but those tears are her best relief; and her tender feelings will insensibly subside into an affectionate remembrance. Wilhelm is much more deeply wounded than I could imagine, or than he expected himself: nor have I ever seen the affliction of a son more lively and sincere. Severy was indeed a very valuable man : without any shining qualifi- cations, he was endowed in a high degree with good sense, honour, and benevolence ; and few men have filled witli more propriety their circle in private life. For myself, I have had the misfortune of knowing him too late, and of losing him too soon. But enough of this melancholy subject. The affairs of this theatre, which must always be minute, are now grown so tame and tranquil, that they no longer deserve the historian's pen. The new constitution of Geneva is slowly forming, without much noise or any bloodshed; and the pa- triots, who have staid in hopes of guiding and restraining the multitude, flatter themselves that TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 423 they shall be able at least to prevent their mad countrymen from giving themselves to the French, the only mischief that would be absolutely irre- trievable. The revolution of Geneva is of less consequence to us, however, than that of Savoy ; but our fate will depend on the general event, ra- ther than on these particular causes. In the mean while we hope to be quiet spectators of the struggle of this year ; and we seem to have assurances that both the emperor and the French will compound for the neutrahty of the Swiss. The Helvetic body does not acknowledge the republic of France ; but Barthelemy, their ambassador, resides at Baden, and steals, like Chauvelin, into a kind of extra- official negotiation. All spirit of opposition is quelled in the Canton of Berne, and the perpetual banishment of the Van Bercham family has scarcely excited a murmur. It will probably be followed by that of Col. Polier : the crime alleged in their sentence is the having assisted at the federation dinner at Rolle two years ago ; and as they are ab- sent, I could almost wish that they had been sum- moned to appear, and heard in their own defence. To the general supineness of the inhabitants of Lausanne I must ascribe, that the death of Louis the Sixteenth has been received with less horror and indignation than I could have wished. I was much tempted to go into mourning, and probably should, had the duchess been still here ; but, as the only Englishman of any mark, I was afraid of being singular ; more especially as our French emigrants, either from prudence or poverty, do not wear black, nor do even the Neckers. Have you read his dis- E E 4 4.21< LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON course for the king? It might indeed supersede the necessity of mourning. I should judge from your last letter, and from the Diary, that the French declaration of war must have rather sur- prised you. I wish, although I know not how it could have been avoided, that we might still have continued to enjoy our safe and prosperous neutra- lity. You will not doubt my best wishes for the destruction of the miscreants; but I love England still more than I hate France. All reasonable chances are in favour of a confederacy, such as was never opposed to the ambition of Louis the Fourteenth; but, after the experience of last year, I distrust reason, and confess myself fearful for the event. The French are strong in numbers, acti- vity, and enthusiasm; they are rich in rapine ; and altliough their strength may be only that of a phrenzy fever, they may do infinite mischief to their neighbours before they can be reduced to a strait waistcoat. I dread the effects that may be produced on the minds of the people by the increase of debt and taxes, probable losses, and possible mismanagement. Our trade must suffer j and though projects of invasion have been always abortive, I cannot forget that the fleets and armies of Europe have failed before the towns in America, which have been taken and plundered by a hand- ful of Buccaneers. 1 know nothing of Pitt as a war minister ; but it afibrds me much satisfaction that the intrepid wisdom of the new chancellor * is introduced into the cabinet. I wish, not merely on yoiu' own account, that you were ])]aced in ixn * Lord LouKliborouRli. TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 425 active, useful station in government. I should not dislike you secretary at war. I liave little more to sny of myself, or of my journey to England : you know my intentions, and the great events of Europe must determine whether they can be carried into execution this summer, jf ***** j^^s warmly adopted ?/oz/;- idea, I shall speedily hear from him ; but, in truth, I know not what will be my answer : I see difficul- ties which at first did not occur : I doubt my own perseverance, and my fancy begins to wander into new paths. The amusement of reading and think- ing may perhaps satisfy a man who has paid his debt to the public ; and there is more pleasure in building castles in the air than on the ground. I shall contrive some small assistance for your corre- spondent, though I cannot learn any thing that distinguishes him from many of his countrymen ; we have had our full share of poor emigrants : but if you wish that any thing extraordinary should be done for this man, you must send me a measure. Adieu. I embrace my lady and Maria, as also Louisa. Perhaps I may soon write, without ex- pecting an answer. Ever yours. To the .same. Lausanne, April 27, 1793. My dearest Friend, for such you most surely are, nor does there exist a person who obtains, or shall ever obtain, a superior place in my esteem and af- fection. After too long a silence I was sitting down to write, when oiily yesterday morning (such is now 426 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON the irregular slowness of the English post), I was suddenly struck, struck indeed to the heart, by the fatal intelligence * from Sir Henry Clinton and Mr. de Lally. Alas ! what is life, and what are our hopes and projects ! When I embraced her at your departure from Lausanne, could I imagine that it was for the last time? when I postponed to another summer my journey to England, could I appre- hend that I never, never should see her again ? I always hoped that she would spin her feeble thread to a long duration, and that her delicate frame would survive (as is often the case) many constitu- tions of a stouter appearance. In four days ! in your absence, in that of her children ! But she is now at rest ; and if there be a future life, her mild virtues have surely entitled her to the reward of pure and perfect felicity. It is for you that I feel, and I can judge of your sentiments by comparing them with my own. I have lost, it is true, an amiable and affectionate friend, whom I had known and loved above three-and-twenty years, and whom I often styled by the endearing name of sister. But you are deprived of the companion of your life, the wife of your choice, and the mother of your children ; poor children ! the liveliness of Maria, and the softness of Louisa, render them almost equally the objects of my tenderest compassion. I do not wish to aggravate your grief; but, in the sincerity of friendship, I cannot liold a different language. I know the impotence of reason, and I mucli fear tliat the strengtii of your character * The tlcatli of Lady 8Iu'ffickl. TO LOUD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 427 will serve to make a sharper and more lasting im- pression. TJie only consolation in these melanclioly trials to which human life is exposed, the only one at least in which I have any confidence, is the presence of a real friend ; and of that,- as far as it depends on myself, you shall not be destitute. I regret the few days that must be lost in some necessary preparations ; but I trust that to-morrow se'nnight (May the fifth) I shall be able to set for- wards on my journey to England; and when this letter reaches you, I shall be considerably advanced on my way. As it is yet prudent to keep at a respectful distance from the banks of the French Ilhine, I shall incline a little to the right, and proceed by Schaffhausen and Stutgard to Frankfort and Cologne : the Austrian Netherlands are now open and safe, and I am sure of being able at least to pass from Ostend to Dover ; whence, without passing through London, I shall pursue the direct road to Sheffield-Place. Unless I should meet with some unforeseen accidents and delays, I hope before the end of the month, to share your solitude, and sympathise with your grief All the diffi- culties of the journey, which my indolence had probably magnified, have now disappeared before a stronger passion ; and you will not be sorry to hear, that, as far as Frankfort or Cologne, I shall enjoy the advantage of the society, the conver- sation, the German language, and the active as- sistance of Severy. His attachment to me is tlie sole motive which prompts him to undertake this troublesome journey ; and as soon as he has seen 428 LETTERS FROM MR. GIBBON mc over the rougliest ground, he will immediately return to Lausanne. Tlie poor young man loved Lady S. as a mother, and the wliole family is deeply affected by an event which reminds them too pain- fully of their own misfortunes. Adieu. I could write volumes, and sliall therefore break off abruptly. I shall write on the road, and hope to find a few lines a jjosfe restanfe at Frankfort and Brussels. Adieu ; ever yours. To the Same. Lausanne, May 1793. My dear Friend, 1 MUST write a few lines before my departure, though indeed I scarcely know what to say. Nearly a fortnight has now elapsed since the first melan- clioly tidings, without my having received the slightest subsequent accounts of your health and situation. Your own silence announces too forcibly how much you are involved in your feelings ; and I can but too easily conceive that a letter to me w^ould be more painful than to an indifferent person. But that amiable man Count Lally might surely have written a second time ; but your sister, who i.> probably with you ; but Maria, — alas ! poor IMaria ! I am left in a state of darkness to the workings of my own fancy, which imagines every thing that is sad and shocking. What can I think of lor your relief and comfort ? I will not expatiate on those common-place topics, which have never dried a single tear ; but let me advise, let me urge you to force yourscU' into l)iisiiu\ss, as I wouhl try to force myself into study. Hie mind must not TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 429 be idle ; if it be not exercised on external objects, it will prey on its own vitals. A thousand little arrangements, which must precede a long journey, have postponed my departure three or four days beyond the term which I had first appointed ; but all is now in order, and I set off to-morrow, the ninth instant, with my valet de cltamhre^ a courier on horseback, and Severy, with his servant, as far as Frankfort. I calculate my arrival at Sheffield- Place (how I dread and desire to see that mansion !) for the first week in June, soon after this letter; but I will try to send you some later intelligence. I never found myself stronger, or in better health. The German road is now cleared, both of enemies and allies, and though I must expect fatigue, I have not any apprehensions of danger. It is scarcely possible that you should meet me at Frank- fort, but I shall be much disappointed at not finding a line at Brussels or Ostend. Adieu. If there be any invisible guardians, may they watch over you and yours ! Adieu. To the Same. Frankfort, May 19th, 1793. And here I am, in good health and spirits, after one of the easiest, safest, and pleasantest journeys which I ever performed in my whole life ; not the appearance of an enemy, and hardly tlie appearance of a war. Yet I hear, as I am writing, the cannon of the siege of Mayence, at the distance of twenty miles ; and long, very long will it be heard. It is confessed on all sides, tliat the French fight with a courage worthy of a better cause. The town of 430 LETTERS FROM MR. GIEBON Mayence is strong, their artillery admirable ; they are already reduced to horse-flesh, but they have still the resource of eating the inhabitants, and at last of eating one another; and, if that repast could be extended to Paris and the whole country, it might essentially contribute to the relief of man- kind. Our operations are carried on with more than German slowness, and when the besieged are quiet, the besiegers are perfectly satisfied with their progress. A spirit of division undoubtedly pre- vails ; and the character of the Prussians for cou- rage and discipline is sunk lower than you can possibly imagine. Their glory has expired with Frederick. I am sorry to have missed Lord Elgin, who is beyond the Rhine with the King of Prussia. As 1 am impatient, I propose setting forwards to- morrow afternoon, and shall reach Ostend in less than eight days. The passage must depend on winds and packets ; and I hope to find at Brussels or Dover a letter which will direct me to Sheffield- l^lace or Downing-street. Severy goes back from hence. Adieu. I embrace the dear girls. Ever yours. From the Same. Brussels, May 27th, 1793. This day, between two and three o'clock in the afternoon, I arrived at this place in excellent preservation. My expedition, which is now draw- ing to a close, has been a journey of perseverance rather than speed, of some labour since Frankfort, but without the smallest degree of difficulty or danger. As I have every morning been seated in TO LORD SHEFFIELD, AND OTHERS. 431 the chaise soon after sun-rise, I propose indulging to-morrow till eleven o'clock, and going that day no fartlicr than Ghent. On Wednesday the 29th instant I shall reach Ostend in good time, just eight days, according to my former reckoning, from Frankfort. Beyond that I can say nothing posi- tive ; but should the winds be propitious, it is pos- sible that I may appear next Saturday, June first, in Downing-street. After that earliest date, you will expect me day by day till I arrive. Adieu. I embrace the dear girls, and salute Mrs. Holroyd. I rejoice that you have anticipated my advice by plunging into business ; but I should now be sorry if that business, however important, detained us long in town, I do not wish to make a public exhibition, and only sigh to enjoy you and the precious remnant in the solitude of Sheffield- Place. Ever yours. If I am successful I may out-strip or accompany this letter. Youi's and Maria's waited for me here, and over-paid my journey. 432 The preceding Letters intimate that, in return for my visit to Lausanne in 1791, Mr. Gibbon en- gaged to pass a year with me in England ; and that the war, which rendered traveUing exceedingly in- convenient, especially to a person wlio, from bodily infirmities, required every accommodation, pre- vented his undertaking so formidable a journey at the time proposed. The call of friendship, however, was sufficient to make him overlook every personal consideration, when he thought his presence might prove a con- solation. I must ever regard it as the most endear- ing proof of his sensibility, and of his possessing the true spirit of friendship, that after relinquish- ing tlie thought of his intended \dsit, he hastened to England, in spite of increasing impediments, to soothe me by the most generous sympathy, and to alleviate my domestic affliction : neither his great cor})ulcncy, nor his extraordinary bodily infirmi- ties, nor any other consideration, could prevent him a moment from resolving on an undertaking that might have deterred the most active young- man. With an alertness by no means natural to liim, he, almost immediately, undertook a circuitous journey, along the frontiers of an enemy worse than savage, within the sound of their cannon, within the range of the light troops of the different 43S armies, and through roads ruined by the enormous machinery of war. The readiness with which he engaged in tliis kind office, at a time when a selfish spirit might liave pleaded a thousand reasons for declining so ha- zardous a journey, conspired, with the peculiar charms of his society, to render his arrival a cordial to my mind. I had the satisfaction of findinc; that his own delicate and precarious health had not suf- fered in the service of his friend. He arrived in the beginning of June at my house in Downing- street, in good health ; and after passing about a month with me there, we settled at Sheffield- Place for the remainder of summer ; where his wit, learning, and cheerful politeness, delighted a great variety of characters. Although he was inclined to represent his health as better than it really was, his habitual dislike to motion appeared to increase ; his inaptness to ex- ercise confined him to the library and dining-room, and there he joined my friend Mr. Frederick North, in pleasant arguments against exercise in general. He ridiculed the unsettled and restless disposition that summer, the most uncomfortable, as he said, of all seasons, generally gives to those who have the free use of their limbs. Such ar- guments were little required to keep society, Mr. Jekyll, Mr. Douglas, &c. within doors, when his company was only there to be enjoyed ; for neither the fineness of the season, nor the most promising parties of pleasure, could tempt the company of either sex to desert him. Those who have enjoyed the society of Mr. F F 434 Gibbon will agree with mc, that his conversation was still more captivating than his writings. Perhaps no man ever divided time more fairly between literary labour and social enjoyment ; and hence, probably, he derived his peculiar excellence of making his very extensive knowledge contribute, in the highest degree, to the use or pleasure of those with whom he conversed. He united, in the happiest manner imaginable, two characters which are not often found in the same person, the profound scholar and the peculiarly agreeable com- panion. It would be superfluous to attempt a very mi- nute delineation of a character which is so dis- tinctly marked in the Memoirs and Letters. He lias described himself without reserve, and with perfect sincerity. The Letters, and especially the Extracts from the Journal, which could not have been written with any purpose of being seen, will make the reader perfectly acquainted with the man. Excepting a visit to Lord Egremont and Mr. Hayley, whomheparticularly esteemed, Mr. Gibbon was not absent from Sheffield-Place till the beein nine; of October, when we were reluctantly obliged to part with him, that he might perform his engagement to Mrs. Gibbon at Batli, the widow of his father, who had early deserved, and invariably retained his affection. From Bath he ])roceeded to Lord Spencer's at Althorp, a family which he always met with uncommon satisfaction. He continued in good health during the whole summer, and in excellent spirits (I never knew him enjoy better) ; 435 and when he went from Sheffield- Place, little did I hnagine it would be the last time that I should have the inexpressible pleasure of seeing him there in full possession of liealth. The few following short letters, though not im- portant in themselves, will fill up this part of the narrative better, and more agreeably, than any thing which I can substitute in their place. Edward Gibbon, Esq. fo the Right Hon. Lord Sheffield. October 2d, 1793. The Cork-street hotel has answered its recom- mendation ; it is clean, convenient, and quiet. My first evening was passed at home in a very agreeable tete-d-tete with my friend Elmsley. Yes- terday I dined at Craufurd's with an excellent set, in which were Pelham and Lord Egremont. I dine to-day with my Portuguese friend, Madame de Sylva, at Grenier's ; most probably with Lady Webster, whom I met last night at Devonshire- House ; a constant, though late, resort of society. The duchess is as good, and Lady Elizabeth as se- ducing, as ever. No news whatsoever. You will see in the papers Lord Hervey's memorial. I love vigour, but it is surely a strong measure to tell a gentleman you have resolced to pass the winter in his house. London is not disagreeable ; yet I shall FF 2 436 probably leave it on Saturday. If any thing should occur, I will write. Adieu ; ever yours. To the Same. Sunday afternoon I left London and lay at Reading, and Monday in very good time I reached this place, after a very pleasant airing ; and am always so much delighted and improved, with this union of ease and motion, that, were not the expense enormous, I would travel every year some hundred miles, more especially in England. I passed the day with Mrs. Gibbon yesterday. In mind and conversation she is just the same as she was twenty years ago. She has spirits, appetite, legs, and eyes, and talks of living till ninety.^ I can say from my heart. Amen. We dine at two, and remain together till nine ; but, although we have much to say, I am not sorry that she talks of introducing a third or fourth actor. Lord Spencer expects me about the 20th ; but if I can do it without offence, I shall steal away two or three days sooner, and you shall have advice of my motions. The troubles of Bristol have been serious and bloody. I know not who was in fault ; but I do not like appeasing the mob by the extinction of the toll, and the removal of the Hereford militia, who had done their duty. Adieu. The girls must dance at Tunbridge. AVhat would dear little aunt" say if I were to answer her letter? Ever yours, &c. Yoik-IIoiise, Batli, Oct. 9th, 1793. ' She was tiicn in her eightictli year. — S. - Mrs. Iloh'oyd. 437 I still follow the old style, though the Conven- tion has abolished the Christian aera, with months, weeks, days, &c. To the Same. York-House, Bath, October 13tli, 1793. I am as ignorant of Bath in general as if I were still at Sheffield. My impatience to get away makes me think it better to devote my whole time to Mrs. Gibbon ; and dear little aunt, whom I ten- derly salute, will excuse me to her two friends, Mrs. Hartley and Preston, if I make little or no use of her kind introduction. A fete-d-tete of eight or nine hours every day is rather difficult to support ; yet I do assure you that our conversation flows with more ease and spirit when we are alone, than when any auxiliaries are summoned to our aid. She is indeed a wonderful woman, and I think all the faculties of her mind stronger, and more active, than I have ever known them. I have settled, that ten full days may be sufficient for all the pur- poses of our interview. I should therefore depart next Friday, the eighteenth instant, and am indeed expected at Althorp on the twentieth ; but I may possibly reckon without my host, as I have not yet apprised Mrs. Gibbon of the term of my visit ; and will certainly not quarrel with her for a short delay. Adieu. I must have some political speculations. The campaign, at least on our side, seems to be at an end. Ever yours. F F 3 438 To the Same. Althorp Library, Tuesday, four o'clock. We have so completely exhausted this morning among the first editions of Cicero, that I can men- tion only my departure hence to-morrow, the sixth instant. I shall lie quietly at Woburn, and reach London in good time on Thursday. By the fol- lowing post I will write somewhat more largely. My stay in London will depend, partly on my amuse- ment, and your being fixed at Sheffield-Place ; unless you think I can be comfortably arranged for a week or two with you at Brighton. The mili- tary remarks seem good ; but now to what purpose ? Adieu. I embrace and much rejoice in Louisa's improvement. Lord Ossory was from home at Farning- Woods. To the Same. London, Frida}', November Sth, four o'clock. Walpole has just delivered yours, and I hasten the direction that you may not be at a loss. I will write to-morrow, but I am now fatigued, and ra- ther unwell. Adieu. I have not seen a soul ex- cept Elmsley. To the Same. St. James's-street, Nov. 9th, 1793. As I dropt yesterday the word iimvell, I flatter myself that the flimily woidd have been a little alarmed by my silence to-day. I am still awkward, though without any suspicions of gout, and have 439 some idea of having recourse to medical advice. Yet I creep out to-day in a chair, to dine with Lord Lucan. But as it will be literally my first going down stairs, and as scarcely any one is ap- prised of my arrival, I know nothing, I have heard nothing, I have notliing to say. My present lodg- ing, a house of Elmsley's, is cheerful, convenient, somewhat dear, but not so much as a hotel, a spe- cies of habitation for which I have not conceived any great affection. Had you been stationary at Sheffield, you would have seen me before the twentieth ; for I am tired of rambling, and pant for my home ; that is to say, for your house. But whether I shall have courage to brave ***** and a bleak down, time only can discover. Adieu. I wash you back to Sheffield-Place. The health of dear Louisa is doubtless the first object; but I did not expect Brighton after Tunbridge. Whenever dear little aunt is separate from you, I shall cer- tainly write to her ; but at present how is it possi- ble ? Ever yours. To the Same, at Bright] Lelmsfone. St. James' s-street, Nov. Uth, 1793. I must at length withdraw the veil before my state of health, though the naked truth may alarm you more than a fit of the gout. Have you never observed, through my inexjnesaihles, a large pro- minency which, as it was not at all painful, and very little troublesome, I had strangely neglected for many years ? But since my departure from Sheffield-Place it has increased (most stupend- ously), is increasing, and ought to be diminished. F F i 440 Yesterday I sent for Farquliar ', who is allowed to be a very skilful surgeon. After viewing and palping, he very seriously desired to call in assist- ance, and has examined it again to-day with Mr. Clinc, a surgeon, as he says, of the first eminence. They both pronounce it a hydrocele (a collection of water), which must be let out by the operation of tapping ; but, from its magnitude and long neg- lect, they think it a most extraordinary case, and wish to have another surgeon. Dr. Baillie, present. If the business sliould go off smoothly, I shall be delivered from my burthen (it is almost as big as a small child), and walk about in four or five days with a truss. But tlie medical gentlemen, who never speak quite plain, insinuate to me the possi- bility of an inflammation, of fever, &c. I am not appalled at the thoughts of the operation, which is fixed for Wednesday next, twelve o'clock ; but it has occurred to me, that you might wish to be present, before and afterwards, till the crisis was past ; and to give you that opportunity, I shall solicit a delay till Thursday or even Friday. In the mean while, I crawl about with some labour, and much indecency, to Devonshire-House (where I left all the fine ladies making flannel waistcoats-) ; Lady Lucan's, &c. Adieu. Varnish the business for the ladies ; yet I am afraid it will be public ; — the advantage of being notorious. Ever yours. ' Now Sir Walter Far(jiiliar, Baronet, 2 For the soldiers in Flanders. — S. 441 Immediately on receiving the last letter, I went the same day from Brightlielmstone to London, and was agreeably surprised to find that Mr. Gib- bon had dined at Lord Lucan's, and did not return to his lodgings, where I waited for him, till eleven o'clock at night. Those who have seen him within the last eight or ten years, must be surprised to hear, that he could doubt, whether his disorder was apparent. AVhen he returned to England in 1787* I was gi'eatly alarmed by a prodigious increase, which I always conceived to proceed from a rupture. I did not understand why he, who had talked with me on every other subject relative to himself and his affairs without reserve, should never in any shape hint at a malady so troublesome ; but on speaking to his valet de chambre, he told me, Mr. Gibbon could not bear the least allusion to that subject, and never would suffer him to notice it. I consulted some medical persons, who with me supposing it to be a rupture, were of opinion that nothing could be done, and said that he surely must have had advice, and of course had taken all ne- cessary precautions. He now talked freely with me about his disorder ; which, he said, began in the year I7OI ; that he then consulted Mr. Hawkins the surgeon, who did not decide whether it was the beginning of a rupture, or an hydrocele ; but he desired to see Mr. Gibbon again when he came to town. Mr. Gibbon not feeling any pain, nor suf- fering any inconvenience, as he said, never returned to Mr. Hawkins ; and although the disorder con- tinued to increase gradually, and of late years very U2 much indeed, he never mentioned it to any person, however incredible it may appear, from I7GI to November 1793. I told him, that I had always supposed there was no doubt of its being a rupture ; his answer was, tliat he never thought so, and that he, and the surgeons who attended him, were of opinion that it was an hydrocele. It is now certain that it was originally a ruj)ture, and that an hy- drocele had lately taken place in the same part ; and it is remarkable, that his legs, which had been swelled about the ankle, particularly one of them, since he had the erysipelas in 1790, recovered their former shape as soon as the water appeared in an- other part, which did not happen till between the time he left Sheffield-Place, in the beginning of October, and his arrival at Althorp, towards the latter end of that month. On the Thursday fol- lowing the date of his last letter, Mr. Gibbon was tapped for the first time ; four quarts of a trans- parent watery fluid were discharged by that ope- ration. Neither inflammation nor fever ensued ; the tumour was diminished to nearly half its size ; the remaining part was a soft irregular mass. I had been with him two days before, and I continued with him above a week after the first tapping, during which time he enjoyed his usual spirits ; and the three medical gentlemen who attended him will recollect his pleasantry, even during the operation. He was abroad again in a few days, but the water evidently collecting very fast, it was agreed that a second puncture should be made a fortnight after the first. Knowing that I sliould be wanted at a meeting in the coimtry, he pressed 443 me to attend it, and promised that soon after the second operation was performed he would follow me to Sheffield- Place ; but before he arrived I re- ceived the two following Letters : 3Ir. Gibbon to Lord Sheffield at Brighton. St. Jaraes's-street, Nov. 25tl], 1793. Though Farquhar lias promised to write a line, I conceive you may not be sorry to hear directly from me. The operation of yesterday was much longer, more searching, and more painful than the former ; but it has eased and lightened me to a much greater degree. • No inflammation, no fever, a delicious night, leave to go abroad to-morrow, and to go out of town when I please, en attendant the future measures of a radical cure. If you hold your intention of returning next Saturday to Shef- field-Place, I shall probably join you about the Tuesday following, after having passed two nights at Beckenham.- The Devons are going to Bath, and the hospitable Craufurd follows them. I passed a delightful day with Burke ; an odd one with Monsignor Erskine, the Pope's Nuncio* Of public news, you and the papers know more than I do. We seem to have strong sea and land hopes ; nor do I dislike the Royalists having beaten the Sans Culottes, and taken Dol. How many minutes will it take to guillotine the seventy-three new members of the Convention, who are now arrested ? Adieu ; ever yours. ' Three quarts of the same fluid as before were discharged. — S. 2 Eden Farm. 444i St. James's-street, Nov. 30th, 1793. It will not be in my power to reach Sheffield- Place quite so soon as I wished and expected. Lord Auckland informs me, that he shall be at Lambetli next week, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. I have therefore agreed to dine at Beckenham on Friday. Saturday will be spent there, and unless some extraordinary temptation should detain me another day, you will see me by four o'clock Sunday, the ninth of December. I dine to-morrow with the Chancellor at Hampstead, and, wdiat I do not like at this time of the year, without a proposal to stay all night. Yet I would not refuse, more especially as I had denied him on a former day. My health is good ; but I shall have a final interview with Farquhar before I leave town. We are still in darkness about Lord Howe and the French ships, but hope seems to prepon- derate. Adieu. Nothing that relates to Louisa can be forgotten. Ever yours. To the Same. St. James's-street, Dec. 6. 1793. 16 du Mois Frimaire. The man tempted me, and I did eat — and that man is no less than the Chancellor. I dine to-day, as I intended, at Beckenliam : but he recals me (the third time tliis week) by a dinner to-morrow (Saturday) with Burke and Windham, which I do not possess sufficient fortitude to resist. Sunday he dismisses me again to the aforesaid Beckenham, but insists on finding me there on Monday, which 445 he will probably do, supposing there should be room and welcome at the Ambassador's. 1 shall not therefore arrive at Sheffield till Tuesday, the 10th instant, and though you- may perceive I do not want society or amusement, 1 sincerely repine at the delay. You will likewise derive some comfort from hearing of the spirit and activity of my motions. Farquhar is satisfied, allows me to go, and does not think I shall be obliged to preci- pitate my return. Shall we never have any thing more than hopes and rumours from Lord Howe ? Ever yours. Mr. Gibbon generally took the opportunity of passing a night or two with his friend Lord Auck- land, at Eden-Farm, (ten miles from London,) on his passage to Sheffield-Place ; and notwithstanding his indisposition, he had lately made an excursion thither from London ; when he was much pleased by meeting the Archbishop of Canterbury, of whom he expressed a high opinion. He returned to London, to dine with Lord Loughborough, to meet Mr. Burke, Mr. Windham, and particularly Mr. Pitt, with whom he was not acquainted; and in his last journey to Sussex, he revisited Eden-Farm, and was much gratified by the opportunity of again seeing, during a whole day, Mr. Pitt, who passed the night there. From Lord Auckland's, Mr. Gibbon proceeded to 446 Slieffield- Place ; and his discourse was never more brilliant, nor more entertaining, than on his arrival. The parallels which he drew, and the comparisons which he made, between the leading men of this country, were sketched in his best manner, and were infinitely interesting. However, this last visit to Sheffield-Place became far different from any he had ever made before. That ready, cheerful, various, and illuminating conversation, which we had before admired in him, was not now always to be found in the library or the dining-room. He moved with difficulty, and retired from company sooner than he had been used to do. On the twenty-third of December, his appetite began to fail him. He observed to me, that it was a very bad sign willi Jiim when he could not eat his break- fast, which he had done at all times very heartily ; and this seems to have been the strongest expression of apprehension that he was ever observed to utter. A considerable degree of fever now made its ap- pearance. Inflammation arose, from the weight and the bulk of the tumour. Water again collected very fast, and when the fever went off, he never entirely recovered his appetite even for breakfast. I became very imeasy at liis situation towards the end of the month, and thought it necessary to ad- vise him to set out for London. He had before settled his plan to arrive there about the middle of January. I had com})anyin the house, and we ex- pected one of his particular friends ; but he was obliged to sacrifice all social pleasure to the imme- diate attention which his health required. He went to London on the seventh of January, and 447 the next day I received the following billet ; the last he ever wrote : — Edward Gihhon, Esq. to Lord Sheffield. St. James's-street, four o'clock, Tuesday. This date says every thing. I was almost killed between Sheffield-Place and East-Grinsted, by liard, frozen, long, and cross ruts, that would dis- grace the approach to an Indian wigwam. The rest was something less painful ; and I reached this place half dead, but not seriously feverish, or ill. I found a dinner invitation from Lord Lucan ; but what are dinners to me ? I wish they did not know of my departure. I catch the flying post. What an effort ! Adieu, till Thursday or Friday. By his own desire, I did not follow him till Thursday the ninth. I then found him far from well. The tumour more distended than before, inflamed, and ulcerated in several places. Reme- dies were applied to abate the inflammation ; but it was not thought proper to puncture the tumour for the third time, till Monday the 13th of January, when no less than six quarts of fluid were discliarged. He seemed much relieved by the evacuation. His spirits continued good. He talked, as nsual, of passing his time at houses which he had often frequented with great plea- sure, tlie Duke of Devonshire's, Mr. Craufurd's, Lord Spencer's, Lord Lucan's, Sir Kalpli Payne's, and Mr. Batt's ; and when I told him that I should not return to the country, as I liad intended, he 448 pressed me to go ; knowing I had an engagement there on public business, he said, " You may be back on Saturday, and I intend to go on Tlun'sday to Devonshire-House." 1 had not any apprehen- sion that his hfe was in danger, although I began to fear that he mis^ht not be restored to a comfort- able state, and that motion would be very trouble- some to him ; but he talked of a radical cure. He said, that it was fortunate the disorder had shown itself while he was in England, where he might procure the best assistance; and if a radical cure could not be obtained before his return to Lau- sanne, there was an able surgeon at Geneva, who could come to tap him when it should be neces- sary. On Tuesday the fourteenth, when the risk of inflammation and fever from the last operation was supposed to be past, as the medical gentlemen who attended him expressed no fears for his life, I went that afternoon part of the way to Sussex, and the following day reached Sheffield-Place. The next morning, the sixteenth, I received by the post a good account of Mr. Gibbon, which men- tioned also that he hourly gained strength. In the evening came a letter by express, dated noon that day, which acquainted me that Mr. Gibbon had had a violent attack the ])receding night, and that it was not probable he could live till 1 came to him. I reached his lodgings in St. James's-strcet about midnight, and learned that my friend had expired a quarter before one o'clock that day, the sixteenth of January, 1794. After 1 left him on Tuesday afternoon, tlie 449 fourteenth, he saw some company, Lady Lucan and Lady Spencer, and thouglit liimself well enough at night to omit the opium draught, wliich he had been used to take for some time. He slept very indifferently ; before nine the next morning he rose, but could not eat his breakfast. However, he appeared tolerably well, yet com- plained at times of a pain in his stomach. At one o'clock he received a visit of an hour from Madame de Sylva, and at three, his friend, Mr. Craufurd, of Auchinames (for whom he had a particular re- gard), called, and stayed with him till past five o'clock. They talked, as usual, on various sub- jects ; and twenty hours before his death, Mr. Gibbon happened to fall into a conversation, not uncommen with him, on the probable duration of his life. He said, that he thought himself a good life for ten, twelve, or perhaps twenty years. About six, he ate the wing of a chicken, and drank three glasses of Madeira. After dinner he became very uneasy and impatient; complained a good deal, and appeared so weak, that his servant was alarmed. Mr. Gibbon had sent to his friend and relation, Mr. Robert Darell, whose house was not far distant, desiring to see him, and adding, that he had something particular to say. But un- fortunately, this desired interview never took place. During the evening he complained much of his stomach, and of a disposition to vomit. Soon after nine, he took his opium draught, and went to bed. About ten, he complained of much pain, and desired that warm napkins might be applied to his G G 460 stomach. He almost incessantly expressed a sense of pain till about four o'clock in the morning, when he said he found his stomach much easier. About seven, the servant asked, whether he should send for Mr. Farquhar? he answered, no; that he was as well as he had been the day before. At about half past eight, he got out of bed, and said he was ^^plus adroit " than he had been for three months past, and got into bed again without as- sistance, better than usual. About nine he said that he would rise. The servant, however, per- suaded him to remain in bed till Mr. Farquhar, who was expected at eleven, should come. Till about that hour he spoke with great facility. Mr. Farquhar came at the time appointed, and he was then visibly dying. When the valet de- cliambre returned, after attending Mr. Farquhar out of the room, Mr. Gibbon said, *^ Pourquoi est-ce que vous one quittez?^* This was about half past eleven. At twelve, he drank some brandy and water from a tea-pot, and desired his favourite servant to stay with him. These were the last words he pro- nounced articulately. To the last he preserved his senses ; and when he could no longer speak, his servant having asked a question, he made a sign, to show that he understood him. He was quite tranquil, and did not stir ; his eyes half-shut. About a quarter before one he ceased to breathe.' ' The body was not opened till the fifth day after his death. It was then soiuid, except that a degree of mortification, not very con- siderable, had taken place on a part of the colon ; which, with the whole of the omottum, of a very enlarged size, had descended into the scrotum, forming a bag that hung down nearly as low as the knee. Since that part had been infl;uncd and ulcerated, Mr. Gibbon could not bear a truss ; and when the last six (juarts of fluid were discharged, 451 The valet de chajnhre observed, that Mr. Gibl)on did not, at any time, show the least sign of alarm or apprehension of death ; and it does not appear that he ever thought liimself in danger, unless his desire to speak to Mr. Darell may be considered in that light. Perhaps I dwell too long on these minute and melancholy circumstances. Yet the close of such a life can hardly fail to interest every reader ; and I know that the public has received a different and erroneous account of my friend's last hours. I can never cease to feel regret that I was not by his side at this awful period : a regret so strong, that I can express it only by borrowing (as Mason has done on a similar occasion) the forcible lan- thc colon and omentum descending lower, they, by their weight, drew the lower mouth of the stomach downwards to the os pubis, and this probably was the immediate cause of his death. The following is the account of the appearance of the body, given by an eminent surgeon who opened it : " Aperto tumore, qui ab inguine usque ad genu se extenderat, ob- servatum est partem ejus inferiorem constare ex tunica vaginali testis continenti duas quasi libras liquoris serosi tincti sanguine. Ea autem fuit sacci illius ami)litudo ut portioni liquoris longe majori capiendae sufficeret. In posteriori parte hujus sacci testis situs fuit. Ilunc omnino sanum invenimus. " Partem tumoris superiorem occupaverant integrum fere omentum et major pars intestini coli. Hoe partes, sacco sibi proprio inclusae, sibi invicem et sacco suo adeo arete adhaeserunt ut coivisse viderentur in massam unam solidam ct irregularem ; cujus a tergo chorda spcr- matica sedem suam obtiuuerat. " In omento ct in intcstino coIo hand dubia rccentis inflamma- tionis signa vidimus, necnon maculas nonnuUas lividi coloris hinc inde spareas. " Aperto abdomine, ventriculum invenimus a naturali suo situ de- tractum usque ad annulum niusculi oblicjui externi. Pylorum rctror- sinn et (juasi sursum a duodeno retractum. In hepate ingentem nuinerum parvorum tuberculorum. Vcsicam fellcam bile admodiim distentam. In cjeteris visceribus, examini anatoniico subjectis, nulla morbi vestigia extiterunt." G G 2 452 guage of Tacitus : Mihi prceter acerhitatem amici erepti, auget mcestitiam quod as.sidere valet udiniy fovere dejicientem, satiari vulfu, compkwu non contigit. It is some consolation to me, that I did not, like Tacitus, by a long absence, anticipate the loss of my friend, several years before his decease. Although I had not the mournful grati- fication of being near him on the day he expired, yet, during his illness, I had not failed to attend him, with that assiduity which his genius, his virtues, and, above all, our long, uninterrupted, and hap])y friendship, sanctioned and demanded. 453 POSTSCRIPT. Mr. Gibbon's Will is dated the 1st of October, 1791, just before I left Lausanne; he distin- guislies me, as usual, in tlie most flattering manner : "I constitute and appoint the Right Honourable John Lord Sheffield, Edward Darell, Esquire, and John Thomas Batt, Esquire, to be the Executors of this my last Will and Testament ; and as the execution of this trust will not be attended with much difficulty or trouble, I shall indulge these gentlemen, in the pleasure of this last disinterested service, without wronging my feelings, or oppress- ing my heir, by too light or too weighty a testi- mony of my gratitude. My obligations to the long and active friendship of Lord Sheffield, I could never sufficiently repay." He then observes, that the Right Hon. Lady Ehot, of Port-Eliot, is his nearest relation on the father's side ; l)ut that her three sons are in such prosperous circumstances, that he may well be excused for making the two children of his late uncle, Sir Stanicr Porten, his heirs ; they being in a very different situation. He bequeathes annuities to two old servants, three thousand pounds, and 454 his furniture, plate, &c. at Lausanne, to Mr. Wil- lielm de Severy ; one hundred guineas to the poor of Lausanne, and fifty guinea seach to the follow- ing persons: — Lady Sheffield and daughters, Maria and Louisa, Madame and Mademoiselle de Severy, the Count de Schomberg, Mademoiselle la Cha- noinesse de Poller, and M. le Ministre Le Vade, for the purchase of some token which may remind them of a sincere friend. 455 The liemains of Mr. Gibbon were deposited in Lord Sheffield's Famih/ Burial-Place^ in Flctching, Sussex ; xohereon is in- scribed the foUoiviny Epitaph, written at my request by a distinguished scholar, the Rev. Dr. Parr : — EDVARDUS GIBBON CRITICUS ACRl INGENIO ET MULTIl'LICI DOCTRINA ORNATUS IDEMQUE IIISTORICORUIVr QUI FORTUNAM IMPERII ROMANI VEL LABENTIS ET INCLINATI VEL EVERSI ET FUNDITUS DELETI LITTERIS MANDAVERINT OMNIUM FACILE PRINCEPS CUJUS IN MORIBUS ERAT MODERATIO ANIMI CUM LIBERALI QUADAM SPECIE CONJUNCTA IN SERMONE MULT-E GRAVITATI COMITAS SUAVITER ADSPERSA IN SCRIPTIS COPIOSUM SPLENDIDUM CONCINNUM ORBE VERBORUM ET SUMMO ARTIFICIO DISTINCTUM ORATIONIS GENUS RECONDITE EXQUISIT^QUE SENTENTIiE ET IN MONUMENTIS RERUM POLITICARUM OBSERVANDIS ACUTA ET PERSPICAX PRUDENTIA VIXIT ANNOS LVI MENS. VII DIES XXVIII DECESSIT XVII CAL. FEB. ANNO SACRO MDCCLXXXXIV ET IN HOC MAUSOLEO SEPULTUS EST EX VOLUNTATE JoHANNIS DOMINI SHEFFIELD QUI AMICO BENE MERENTI ET CONVICTORl HUMANISSIMO H. Tab. P. C. THE END, London: Printed by A. 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