EDWARD GIBBON 1737-1794

p

109537

EDWARD GIBBON

After an oil painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds

EDWARD GIBBON

. M. LOW

1937
RANDOM HOUSE

NEW YORK

IS

(Contents

List of Illustrations Page ix

Preface xi

Chapter i. Portraits I

n. The House at Putney 6

m. Early Years, 1737-1752 21

iv. Oxford, 1752-1753 37

v. No. i6raeCit-Derrire, 1753-1758 47

vi. Suzanne Curchod, 1757-1759 73

vii. Buriton and Bond Street, 1758-1760 92

vm. The Militia, 1760-1763 106

ix. Paris, 1763 128

x. Suzanne Curchod Again, 1760-1763 137

xi. Love and Friendship, 1763-1764 149

xn. The Tour of Italy, 1764-1765 169

xin. Many Distractions, 1765-1770 194

xiv. No. 7 Bentinck Street, 1773 2 8

xv. The Club, 1774 221
vii

EDWARD GIBBON
xvi. The Member for Liskeard, 1774 Page 236

xvii. 'Lo, a Truly Classic Work', 1776 244

xvin. Paris Revisited, 1777 252

xix. A Vindication^ 1779 262

xx. A Lord of Trade, 1779-1782 273

xxi. 'Je pars', 1783 291

xxii. 'Fanny Lausanne', 1783-1787 299

xxiii. The Hour of Triumph, 1787-1788 312

xxiv. The Luminous Historian 320

xxv. 'Gibbon Castle', 1788-1793 331

xxvi. Last Days, 1793-1794 342

Appendix i. The Family of Gibbon 353

ii. The Family of Porten 357

in. The Club 359

Index 361

The dates of chapter v refer to the entire first residence in
Lausanne, not merely to the house mentioned. Chapter viii
carries the narrative to 1 763 althoujgh the Militia service ended in
1762. Since chapters xiv, xv, xvi do not cover the whole of
their respective rides, only the commencing dates are given*

viii

Illustrations

EDWARD GIBBON Frontispiece

From the oil painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds in the
possession of the Earl of Rosebery.

Half-length canvas, 30" x 24". The coat and waist-
coat scarlet; hair en perruque. Painted in 1779;
exhibited Royal Academy 1780; paid for July 1781,
36 : IS*-

EDWARD GIBBON facing page 4

jifter an oil painting by Henry Walton in the possession
of Captain G. C. Onslow.

On wood, oval, about 7 J* x 9 J*. Painted about 1 774
and one of a set of four in existence, all by Walton,
see below, p. i, and note i. The one reproduced
here closely resembles that in the National Portrait
Gallery. In the other two the dress is more elaborately
finished 5 otherwise there is no material difference.

EDWARD GIBBON facingpage 100

dfter a pen drawing said to be by Lady Diana
Beauclerk, now in the British Museum.

SILHOUETTES OF GIBBON facing page 172

After the originals by Mrs Brown in the British
Museum.

GIBBON'S AUTOGRAPH facing page 258

GIBBON'S PRINTED INVITATION
CARD facing page 25 8

From the originals in the author's possession.

The autograph is written on the back pf a playing
card, the nine of spades.
ix

EDWARD GIBBON
EDWARD GIBBON facing page 318

From a Wedgwood plaque in the possession of Dr. John
Thomas.

This was no doubt made in 1787. One other copy
is known to exist. A poor reproduction reversed,
with the consequently necessary alterations to the
coat, appeared in the European Magazine, 1788.

EDWARD GIBBON fadngpage 332

From a contemporary drawing by Brandoin > litho-
graphed by C. Constant.

It shows Gibbon seated in his garden at La Grotte
and belongs to the last decade of his life. The original
belonged to a friend, the Rev. Professor David
Levade, but has not been traced.

NOTES FOR THE MEMOIRS facing page 340
From the original autograph in the British Museum.

Written probably in the last five years of Gibbon's
life. It illustrates Lord Sheffield's remark that the
historian's beautiful hand improved with the course
of years; compare the earlier specimens reproduced
in Gibbon's Journal.

PREFACE

MATERIALS for a life of Gibbon are copious but widely
scattered, and even some modern books of the
first importance are not readily procurable; while in ad-
dition to the great collection in the British Museum, his
and other relevant manuscripts are preserved in half-
a-dozen different countries. A number of Gibbon's
letters are included in the present work, which are either
unpublished, or if printed lurk in such remote quarters
as to be virtually unknown. In addition there is included
a number of letters or portions of letters, nearly all un-
published, from members of his family or his friends.
Their style, so often in humble contrast to the historian's
virtuosity, illuminates the background of his life. For
letters are to a biographer what dialogue is to a novelist.

A collection of Gibbon's letters, to rank with those of
the other great English letter-writers, is indeed a very
big desideratum of English scholarship. Lord Shef-
field's editorial methods came in for much criticism
when Prothero's two volumes appeared. They were a
great advance. But the text in them is by no means
perfect, and there are some strange omissions even from
the avowedly limited material that was drawn upon. A
rich harvest could be gathered of other published and
unpublished letters.

To avoid overburdening the text with footnotes, it has*
been assumed that the reader who wishes to verify the
narrative will know his way about the obvious bio-
graphical sources, such as Gibbon's own writings and
those of his important contemporaries. Explicit refer-
ences, however, are given to these authorities in support
of crucial points; and where the signposts are less pre-
cise, it is hoped the reader will not mind being advised,

xi

EDWARD GIBBON

in the words Gibbon himself used of Herodotus, that 'it
will be a pleasure not a task to read' those inimitable
works.
The following works are referred to by short titles :

The Decline and Fall The History of the Decline and Fall of the
Roman Empire, by Edward Gibbon Esq re .

The method of citation here is as follows. For Gibbon's
notes it is only necessary to give the chapter and the
number of each note; for the text the chapter is given
in Roman numerals followed by brackets containing the
volume and page. These are given from Smith's Mil-
man's edition, 1 854 etc., still probably the most widely
diffused edition. There is a serious objection to giving
references to Bury's great edition. References to the
notes there would not tally with other editions since the
editor's additional notes have been most unfortunately
combined with Gibbon's in a new numerical sequence.

Misc. Works. The Miscellaneous Works of Edward Gibbon Esq.,
edited by John, Lord Sheffield, the 2nd edition,
5 vols. London, 1814.

Prothero. Private Letters of Edward Gibbon, edited by
R. E. Prothero. London, 1896.

Murray. The Autobiographies of Edward Gibbon, printed
verbatim from hitherto unpublished MSS., edited
by John Murray. London, 1896.

Birkbeck Hill. The Memoirs of the Life of Edward Gibbon, with
various observations and excursions by himself,
edited by George Birkbeck Hill. London, 1900,

Gibbon's Journal. Gibbon's Journal, to January 28th, 1763.
My Journal, I, II & III, and Ephemerides,
with introductory essays by D. M, Low. London,
1929.

Meredith Read. Historic Studies in Faud, Berne, and Savoy, by
General Meredith Read. London, 1897,

A number of the documents quoted in this book,
xii

PREFACE

generally in translations from the French, are still
preserved. But those which the General mentions
as having passed into his possession are understood
to have been destroyed by fire in a Paris repository
shortly after his death.

et Mme. de Sfoery. La Vie de sociitS dans le Pays de Vaud
a la fin du 18 siecle, par M. et Mme. de S6very.
Lausanne et Paris, 1912.

Brit. Mus. 1 1907, dd. 25 (i) and (2). The Sheffield Papers used
for the editions of Gibbon's Miscellaneous Works>
1928. Collection of unpublished papers once in the
possession of Mrs Dorothea Gibbon 9 1936.

These are typewritten calendars prepared by
Messrs Birreu and Garnett Cited by the press
mark of the British Museum copy.

Boswell. The Life of Samuel Johnson LL.D. by James
Boswell. References are given bj dates, so that it
is not necessary to specify a particular edition.

Boswell Papers. Private Papers of James Boswell 9 from Mala-
hide Castle in the collection of Lt.-Colonel R. H.
Isham. Prepared for the press by Geoffrey Scott,
etc. Privately printed. 1928-34.

Other works are referred to in the footnotes as they
occur.

In the forefront of many obligations incurred in pre-
paring this book, it is a pleasure to put the names of M.
and Mme William de Charrire de S&very. The grand-
son of Wilhelm de S6very, whom Gibbon regarded as
an adopted son, M. de S6very cherishes the relics and
traditions which have come down to him, and it is not
only in their delightful books that he and his wife keep
alive the spirit of that old Lausanne which so completely
won Gibbon's heart. Invaluable information over topo-
graphical questions was received from M. G.-A. Bridel,
whose knowledge of the past and zeal in preserving its
survivals are alike inexhaustible. Great thanks are also

xiii

expressed to M, F, Dubois, Director of the Cantonal
Library in Lausanne, and to M. H. Perrochon.

Grateful acknowledgment for permission to reproduce
portraits or documents is made to the Earl of Rosebery,
Captain G. C. Onslow, and Dr. John Thomas; to the
firm of John Murray (for illustrations Nos. 7 and 8) and
to the Trustees of the British Museum; for permission
to use letters or other documents, to the Marquess of
Bath, Madame Grenier-Brandebourg, the Honourable
Sir Montague Eliot on behalf of the Earl of St. Ger-
mans, Magdalen College, Oxford., Miss J. E. Norton
and Captain Onslow. The late Sir John Murray gave
the author permission to use Gibbon's unpublished
Journal, and thanks are further due to the firm of John
Murray for permission to quote from Gibbon's letters
and those portions of the Memoirs which are still in
copyright. 1

Among many others who have given valuable help the
author wishes to mention Mr Percival Boyd; Miss Belle
da Costa Greene, Director of the Pierpont Morgan
Library; Mr H. M. Hake, Director of the National
Portrait Gallery; Mr C. A. Howse, Head Master of
Kingston Grammar School ; Captain C. M. H. Pearce,
Mrs Charles Tyson and Professor C. K. Webster.

January 1937 D. M. L.

x Quotations from the Autobiography are chiefly made from Murray's
edition, including those parts which had already been published by Lord
Sheffield; otherwise from Misc. Works, vol. i.

XIV

Chapter I

PORTRAITS

E contrast between the portrait by Reynolds, the
A frontispiece of this book, and the small work by
Walton which quizzes the large canvases of his con-
temporaries from its corner in the National' Portrait
Gallery, is in a way the contrast between the text and
notes of The Decline and Fall.

Walton's portrait, done in 1774, is one of a series of
four friends, each of whom probably had a complete set. 1
In it Gibbon appears as the genial clubman and Ion
viveur ready to amuse and be amused. It was natural
that Lord Sheffield considered it the best likeness of his
friend.

The Reynolds portrait on the other hand is The Decline
and Fall? We discern the full onset of learning and
intellect in the great forehead and the steady, unflinch-
ing gaze ; the round resolute mouth, petulant rather than
sneering, is ready to mould the rolling period and the
swift decisive phrases. The coat, though not a uniform,
is very properly red; for 'in England the red ever ap-
pears the favourite and as it were the national colour
of our military ensigns and uniforms'. 3 It is a subtle

1 Four copies of the Gibbon are in existence. The reproduction feeing
p. 4 is from the copy in Capt G. C. Onslo Vs possession. The other sitters
were G. Wilbraham, Godfrey Bagnall Clarke, and Booth Grey.

2 The reproduction of it in Misc. Wks., 1 8 14, vol. i., appears to be an amal-
gam, in the interests of dignity, of Walton and Reynolds.

The Decline and Fag c. Ivii. n. 18.

reminder of a school of experience to which the historian
was proud to be indebted.

Romney's portrait, painted in 1783, is a mild affair.
The boldness and the humour are gone. Yet Hayley,
who had commissioned it, claimed that the artist had
brought out Gibbon's social qualities even better than
Reynolds. In a number of drawings and caricatures of
the historian there is always the same frank and steady
look mellowing in a rapidly ageing man to a round-
eyed invitation to be shocked, a delightful pretence in
one who had nothing to learn about our weaknesses,
amiable or otherwise.

Personal beauty, Gibbon remarks, is 'an outward gift
which is seldom despised, except by those to whom it has
been refused'. 1 Most of his contemporaries held that it
had been refused to Gibbon without reservation, and the
man's vanity added a piquancy to their amusement.

When he ventured to use Reynolds' portrait for the
frontispiece of his second volume he doubly delivered
himself into the hands of the irreverent. For impress-
ive as this portrait is, it did not pretend to conceal the
features which most moved the wags. 'Those Brob-
dignatious cheeks' Fanny Burney called them, and she
was but one among a dozen ready with more offensive
adjectives and comparisons.

But the best complement in prose to this picture comes
from the German poet Matthisson. His testimony is
valuable because unprejudiced; it confirms the observa-
tion of others but goes far beyond them. It was written
some ten years after Reynolds had painted the portrait.

'His face', says Matthisson, 'is one of the most singular
spectacles in physiognomy on account of the irregular
proportions of the individual parts to the whole. The
eyes are so small 2 that they afford the strongest contrast

* The Decline and Fall, c. 1. (6-219).

a This remark by no means agrees with the portraits.

2

with the high and splendidly arched brow; the rather
snub nose almost disappears between the extremely
prominent cheeks, and the large double chin hanging
far down makes the already elongated oval of the face
still more striking. In spite of these irregularities
Gibbon's face has an extraordinary expression of dig-
nity, and proclaims, at the first glance, his deep and
sagacious thoughts. Nothing can surpass the intel-
lectual fire of his eyes.' I

Gibbon never alludes to his looks except once when,
on sending his portrait to his stepmother, he says that
whatever she may think of his face, she knows his heart
is sincerely hers. That is not much to build on. A slight
sketch of himself must, however, surely be concealed (it
was Gibbon's way) in the portrait of the early Renascence
scholar Barlaam.

'He is described, by Petrarch and Boccacce, as a man
of diminutive stature, though truly great in the mea-
sure of learning and genius ; of a piercing discernment,
though of a slow and painful elocution. For many ages
(as they affirm) Greece had not produced his equal in the
knowledge of history, grammar and philosophy; and his
merit was celebrated in the attestations of the princes
and doctors of Constantinople/ 2

Gibbon was in fact under five feet in height, and Lord
Sheffield remarks that although he became extremely
corpulent in later years, his bones were small and finely
made. Fanny Burney gives a vivid confirmation of this.
She met Gibbon for the first time in 1782 when she was
in the first flush of fame from Evelina. 'His neat little
feet are of a miniature description and with these as
soon as I turned round he hastily described a quaint
sort of circle, with small quick steps and a dapper gait,

1 'Nichts geht fiber das geistvolle Feuer seiner Augen', Brufe von Friedrich
Matthisson (Zurich, 1802), p. 43.
* The Decline and Fall, c. kvi. (8-108).

EDWARD GIBBON

as if to mark the alacrity of his approach, and then,
stopping short when full face to me, he made so singu-
larly profound a bow that though hardly able to keep
my gravity I felt myself blush deeply at its undue but
palpably intended obsequiousness/ l

Fanny Burney also had occasion to note 'the slow and
painful elocution'. For after this elaborate preliminary
Gibbon said nothing at all. The girl thought that he
did not know what to say to her for she could not
believe that Mr Gibbon had heard of Evelina and that
he was embarrassed because all eyes were upon them.
It is however probable that Gibbon was going to pay an
elaborate compliment on the book which Sir Joshua
said he had read in a day, had not Fanny's attention been
diverted to her hero Burke. Sir Joshua later ascribed
Gibbon's unusual taciturnity on that occasion to his fear
of being put into Fanny's next book.

Miss Burney found his look and manner 'placidly
mild, but rather effeminate,' and his voice when he
talked with Sir Joshua 'gentle but of studied precision
of accent*. Most witnesses agree on his deliberate and
rather affected manner of speaking, and Suard says he
spoke in a falsetto tone. 2 Moore records a rare instance
of repartee. Dr. Tissot and Gibbon were rivals for Lady
Elizabeth Foster's attention. The doctor said to Gibbon
rather crossly:

' "Quand milady sera malade de vos fadaises, je la
gu&irai." On which, Gibbon drawing himself up
grandly and looking disdainfully at the physician,
replied: "Quand milady sera morte de vos recettes,
je Tim mort aliserai". The pompous lengthening
of the last word, while at the same time a long sus-
tained pinch of snuff was taken by the historian,

1 Mme cTArblay, Memoirs of Dr. Burney, ii. 224.
a In Guizot's introduction to his edition of The Decline and Fall.

EDWARD GIBBON

After an oil painting by Henry Walton

PORTRAITS

brought, as mimicked by Spencer, the whole scene
most livelily before one's eyes.' l

With age he gave increased attention to his appearance.
In the year after his appointment as a Lord of Trade he
had a tailor's bill for ^145 145. iojd. 2 His taste was
loud even for that colourful period. We can still read
of his 'Burgundy coloured cloth frock with orange shag
velvet waistcoat, laced with gold and silver lace', etc.
Quantities of lavender water, pomade and powder
were no doubt not exceptional, but it is difficult not to
smile at his using bandeaux for the hair at night. 3 He
wore his own hair in later years. A lock preserved in
the British Museum is of a deep red colour with few
signs of grey.

1 Moore's Journal, 21-22 September 18445 J. Russell, Memoirs of Thomas
Moore, vii. 374.
* Magdalen College Papers.
3 M. et Mme ete Sfaery.

Chapter 2

THE HOUSE AT PUTNEY

IN the year 1720 the South Sea Bubble was pricked;
in a moment of time the nation's speculative frenzy
changed into a vindictive clamour against those upon
whom a few hours previously they had been pressing
their anxiety to share in certain and unlimited wealth.

The facts were obscure and of unprecedented com-
plexity, and it was only clear that there was no help in
the law. This was nevertheless instantly felt to be one
of those major calamities in the midst of which legality
is silent, and Parliament took upon itself the task of
interpreting the country's moral indignation. If some
people could be made to smart, everyone would feel
better. There were members of the government such as
Lord Sunderland or Mr Secretary Aislabie upon whom
the blow might have fallen as well as on any, but the
chosen victims were the members of the committee of
the South Sea Company. They were held under arrest
for a time, they were compelled to make sworn returns
of their property, they were forbidden to alienate any
part of it, and then a Parliament whose own prolonged
existence was of doubtful validity sat to consider what
was to be done to each culprit. They were to be punished
severely, perhaps reduced to beggary.
Prominent among these scapegoats was Mr Edward
Gibbon, a successful army contractor, a member of the
Board of Customs in Queen Anne's last administration,

6

THE HOUSE AT PUTNEY

a man of Tory convictions and suspected Jacobite
sympathies. His fortune had been declared at a sum
above a hundred thousand pounds, and after Parliament
had exhibited every mood from justifiable concern to the
most reckless spite and puerile levity, the vote on him
decided that all was to be given up with the exception
of ten thousand pounds.

But one of whom Bolingbroke had remarked that he
had never conversed with a man who more clearly
understood the commerce and finances of England was
a match for the country gentlemen's assembled wisdom.
By settlements which were secure in law, whatever moral
judgments might be passed on them, he had already
safeguarded a great part of his fortune, 1 and while his
grandson, the historian, remarks that by his skill and
industry and credit (which appears to have been little
damaged) he created a second fortune not inferior to the
first, it must be noted that the great part of the landed
property, which he was to bequeath eventually, was al-
ready in his possession before the disaster of 1720.* In
fact, when the dust of the battle subsides, he is discerned
established at Putney in a fine house with ninety-two
acres of land, 3 There he reigned for the remaining

1 A fact suppressed by Sheffield. See Murray, pp. 16, 109, 215, 391.

a The Particulars and Inventory of Edward Gibbon, ESQ., 1721. 'The free-
hold estate at Putney, the manor of Lenborough and larm, the manors of
Buriton and East Mapledurham, the reversion or Moon's farm and 1/36 share
in the New River Water were in pursuance of marriage articles dated 28th-
29th March 1720 settled and conveyed to my late mother Hester Acton and
Francis Acton and their heirs in trust for my wife's jointure and other uses.*
But Mr Gibbon had married in 1705 ! His personal property was sworn at
75,072 153. 2d. and real estate 35,970 los. 4d., a total of 111,043 53. 6d.
Allowing for debts and an interest in his late mother's estate she died in 1721
the net amount was 106,543 53. 6d. His furniture and plate were valued at
1208 33. 4d. Being in Black Rod's custody cost him 130.

3 The house at Putney was subsequently known as Lime Grove. The details
given in The Particulars, etc., show it to have been a considerable place. It
stood in the angle to the north of Upper Richmond road and to the east of
Putney Park lane and the estate extended up to the Common. The house
faced die Pleasance. L Rocque's map, 1744, in Add. MSS. 14411.

EDWARD GIBBON

sixteen years of his life a tyrant to his family, as we are
told, and the oracle of his neighbours among whom he
was the oldest, richest and wisest.

Gibbon tells us that whereas his grandfather had
received his education in the rough school of affairs he
prepared his son for the considerable fortune which
should come to him by sending him to Westminster,
where he might become an elegant scholar and would
certainly mingle with the highest ranks of society. It
would be wrong, however, to infer from this that
Edward Gibbon the first was a man of no education
or too humble a position. For the greater part of his
life Gibbon was remarkably ignorant and indifferent
about his family history, and confesses that for all
he knew his grandfather might have been a cottager's
son or a foundling. The truth of the matter was very
different.

Matthew Gibbon, the historian's great-grandfather,
was the son of a landowner at Westcliffe in Kent, whose
grandfather had bought the property in Queen Eliza-
beth's reign. The family was believed to have been well
established in the Weald of Kent long before that, and
it is therefore possible that Gibbon may after all be
descended from the Gibbons of Rolvenden, though not
by the line which he claims in his Autobiography. 1

Matthew was one of several children, and coming to
London in the second half of the seventeenth century,
is said to have made a fortune as a linen-draper in
Leadenhall. 2 At the age of twenty-five he married
Hester Abrahall of All Hallows, Barking. Of his five
children the two daughters made good marriages and
one son, Thomas, went from St. Paul's School to
St. John's, Cambridge, and became Dean of Carlisle.

1 See Appendix I for genealogical tables, p. 353.

a He also retained some interest in the Westcliffe Property by the law of
gavelkind. See Egerton Brydges, Lex Terrae, Note UUU, pp. 267 sqq.

8

THE HOUSE AT PUTNEY

It is not improbable that Edward also went to St.
Paul's. 1

Matthew must have died fairly young, for his widow
married again. Her second husband was Richard
Acton, a younger son of Sir Walter Acton. He was in
business in London. The alliance with this old Shrop-
shire family was further strengthened. Hester's daugh-
ter, Catherine, married her husband's nephew, Sir
Whitmore Acton, and her son Edward married Richard
Acton's daughter by his first marriage. 2

That was in lyoj;. 3 Edward Gibbon was then in a
position to spend 500 on his bride's jewellery. 4 In the
following years he prospered steadily and was worth
60,000 in 1716 before he embarked on the luckless
South Sea scheme. This fortune came largely from pro-
fitable contracts for supplying the armies in Flanders.
He figures there during the years 171113, sometimes
as Captain Edward Gibbon, sometimes just Mr Gibbon,
but always in connexion with considerable transactions. 5
He had other interests at home, and over these, it is said,
during his absence his mother watched with ability and
success.

In the normal evolution of an English fortune this

1 Gardiner, Register of St. PauTs School, gives an Edward Gibbon who was
at the school under Dr. Gile, i.e. 1672-97, and was a Steward of the Feast in
1 70 1 . There was another son, Matthew, who was *not right in his head*. Gib-
bon appears aware of only two sons and one daughter. He does not seem to
know that his aunt Catherine married her first cousin, since Edward Elliston's
mother was Matthew's daughter Hester.

2 In the common text of the Autobiography Gibbon states that Matthew
Gibbon's children both married Richard Acton's. Those who are impressed
by the fact that these two families produced two great historians should note
that Lord Acton did not descend from Sir Whitmore. Thus Gibbon had
Acton blood but Acton had no Gibbon blood.

3 The husband is described as thirty years of age in the marriage licence. He
was born therefore in 1675, not 1667 as Gibbon says. Gibbon has confused
the date with that of his great-grandparents' marriage.

4 Particulars and Inventory of Edward Gibbon, Esq.

Hist. MSS. Comm. i4th Report, Portland Papers, iii. (v) pp. 152, etc.
Thomas Gibbon appears in the same correspondence as an aspirant to the
deanery of Carlisle. Ibid. vii. pp. 156 sqq.

9

EDWARD GIBBON

Edward Gibbon might have returned with honours to
the country life which his father had sprung from. The
South Sea crisis was a set-back, and the old financier was
to get no further from Crosby Square than the pleasant
riverside of Putney. But he could hope and plan for his
son and grandsons to take up the pleasures and duties
of country gentlemen on the landed estates which he
had bought farther afield. They should be squires and
magistrates, members for borough or county, attaining
to the government perhaps, and ending quite possibly
peers of England. Meanwhile it remained to be seen
what could be made of his son.

The widower's family his wife died in 1722 con-
sisted of Edward born in 1707, Hester born in 1706 x
and a younger sister Catherine. A strange light hover-
ing between truth and fiction plays round these children
owing to their association with William Law.

Law was no ordinary tutor. He may have come to
teach young Edward after his brief career at West-
minster and he certainly accompanied him to a residence
at Cambridge which was either about as brief or pheno-
menally long. 2 But he remained with the Gibbons in
what is clearly a privileged position for the best part of
twenty years, leaving a year or two after his patron's
death. He was only eleven years younger than his
patron and there was probably something more of
common interest between the two men than their official
relation. It was not merely that Law appealed to the
Tory as a non-juror, a man who at the age of thirty-four

1 Gibbon exaggerates his aunt's age when he says she was eighty-five in 1789.
Murray, p. 216. He would have blushed to suggest that she could have been
born tefore 1706. She died 1790, aged eighty-four.

* Law is supposed to have joined them about 1723. Gibbon's father was at
Westminster, 1717-20, and boarded with Mrs Pkyford (Particulars, etc.),
Probably he was withdrawn in the hour of crisis. According to Alumni
Cantebngifnses he entered Emmanuel in 1723 as a pensioner and became a
fellow commoner in 1727. He was certainly in residence 1729-30. He did
not take a degree.

IO

THE HOUSE AT PUTNEY

was doomed to a life without preferment in the church
whose outward privileges he had so ably defended;. he
was commended as well to the business man by qualities
which his biographer summarises as 'the thorough
reality of the man, his ardent piety, his clear and logical
intellect, his raciness, his strong and vigorous common
sense, his outspokenness, the very bluntness and abrupt-
ness of his manner'. 1

Gibbon himself speaks with some pride of the fact that
his family had made of so sincere and able a man an
honoured friend and spiritual counsellor. Candour and
clarity of mind and style were qualities that always won
him. Nor is it without relish that he reminds us that
Law had drawn a damning picture of the difference
between the professions and practice of Christians,
and adds, in a sentence which Sheffield did not print,
*it is indeed somewhat whimsical that the Fanatics
who most vehemently inculcate the love of God
should be those who despoil him of every amiable
attribute'. 2

Gibbon's praise of A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy
Life is just and discerning. But the irony of things is
revealed by one brief patronising word. 'Mr. Law's
master work', he wrote, 'the Serious Call is still read as
a popular and powerful book of devotion.' Law's book
was destined, for a long time after these words were
written, to be one of the most widely influential books in
that religious revival which would have been so sur-
prising to many philosophers could they have survived
to see it. 'That Law indeed was the great forerunner of
the revival . . . and did more to promote it than any
other individual whatever; yea, more, perhaps, than

_i 1 722 and 'Dedicated to the unhappy Sufferers by the great Nt
of the South Sea 9 ?
* Murray, p. 27.

II

EDWARD GIBBON

the rest of the nation collectively taken', was the judg-
ment of Wesley's biographers. 1 Both John 2 and Charles
Wesley visited Law at Putney. Charles was even there
in August and September 1737 and may well have seen
or more probably heard the new-born historian. 3 These
are coincidences, but they have acquired a significance
of their own in the course of time.

Law 'is said to have been a tall thin bony man of a
stern and forbidding countenance, sour and repulsive in
his spirit and manner'. 4 That may be an enemy's por-
trait. But he was clearly rather formidable and hardly
the man to bring a temperate atmosphere into a family
whose head, as we may gather, was sufficiently stern.
He was a man of scholarship, but had revolted against
the powers of reason with which he was so well endowed.
His great vigour of style is lost for us in common
oblivion with the topics he trounced or defended, and
even in his greatest book he appears less apt to mould
characters than to denounce them.

Relying on family tradition and his own observation
so far as his father was concerned, Gibbon tells us that
the two sisters and their brother are portrayed in A
Serious Call in the characters of Miranda, Flavia and
Flatus. 5 This identification must be received with some
caution. In some of the biographical touches reported
of these characters the author may have been prudently
seeking to conceal his debt, since they do not harmonise
with the known facts of the supposed originals. Of the
sisters Miranda and Flavia it is said that their parents
were dead and they had been in enjoyment of their own
fortunes for some years. But this is not true of Hester

1 Coke and Moore, Life of Wesley, p. 7.

^ * John Wesley's first visit to Putney was in 1732. H. Moore, Life of Wesley,
i. 190.

3 Overton, op. cit.p. 89, and T. Jackson, Life of Charles Wesley, i, 112.

4 Jackson, Life of Charles Wesley, i. 112,

s Miranda and Flavia are sisters but Flatus is not said to be their brother.

12

THE HOUSE AT PUTNEY

and Catherine Gibbon. So when we are told that
Miranda was an unwilling participant in routs and balls
and the folly of every fashion until by her mother's
death she was able to give herself to devotion, we must
beware of assuming that this mother is sketched from
Gibbon's grandmother. Yet a gay and worldly strain
came into the family somewhere. And it is undeniable
that these characters do depict the essential truth of the
three children of Edward Gibbon. This is so plain of
the portrait of Flatus that Gibbon, seeing the diffi-
culties of identification, especially on the point of age,
nevertheless concludes that 'the prophetic eye of the
tutor must have discerned the butterfly in the cater-
pillar'. 1

Hester took after her father in the manly vigour of
her understanding, and in a certain rigidity and even
moroseness of temper. She became an apt disciple of
Law's religion without relaxing her grasp on the affairs
of this world. People spoke of her as a very good sort
of lady but looked on her as a little mad. She was an
undoubted Miranda. The little we know of Catherine
Gibbon is not inconsistent with the character of Flavia.
She was akin to her brother's spirit and followed him
into the society of such people as the Mallets after their
father's death. She married her cousin Edward Elliston.
Shortly after that John Byrom came to visit Law at
Putney, and a comment in his diary that it was such an
absurdity to come to communion with patches and paint
as no Christians would have borne formerly, is clearly
intended for her. 2 Neither she nor her husband enjoyed
their world for long, and their daughter Catherine, after

1 Murray, pp. 47 and 383. Gibbon refers to the and edition, 1732, but the
portrait of Flatus appears in die ist edition, 1729, when his father was only
twenty-two. Gibbon never knew his aunt Catherine and only met Hester
Gibbon in middle life. For Miranda, Flavia, Flatus, see A Serious Call, cc.
vii., viii., ix. and xii.

* J. Byrom, Private Journals, etc., Chetham Society, xxxiv. p. 619.

13

EDWARD GIBBON

their death, lived with her uncle till her marriage in
1756 with Edward Eliot. 1

Flatus is not a wicked man. The root of his character
is inconstancy. He is healthy, wealthy and young. He
has run through foppery and all the pleasures of the
town and turns to the country. From hunting he comes
to the solider but not less expensive joys of farming and
building. He invents new dovecotes 'and has such con-
trivances in his barns and stables as were never seen
before*. But next year he is away to his horses again.
Then he goes abroad, but soon comes back because
foreigners are so impertinent. He gives a year to Italian
in order to understand the opera. At last he is brought
to a stand and is reduced to reason and reflexion only to
determine which of his old ways he will resume. 'But
here a new project comes in to his relief. He is now
living upon herbs and running about the country to get
himself into as good wind as any running footman in the
kingdom.' If this last is a vice it was one which his son
at any rate if Flatus be Gibbon's father was. never
guilty of.

Of his general disposition we read:

'Flatus is very ill-natured or otherwise just as his affairs happen
to be when you visit him; if you find him when some project is
almost worn 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
with great civility.' 2

We must turn back from the butterfly to the cater-
pillar who appears in the pages of John Byrom's diary.
Byrom is a kind of flat Pepys. He was a Cambridge
scholar and wit, poet and also hymn writer and teacher
of shorthand. In the course of frequent journeys about
England he kept a diary which deserves to be better

1 See Appendix I. *A Serious Call, c. rii.

14

THE HOUSE AT PUTNEY

known for its quiet yet colourful picture of England and
for its skill in reporting the talk of such men as Law.
He had long admired Law from a distance, and at last
in March 1729 had the courage to go with a friend to
Putney. Law came to them while they were fortifying
themselves with mutton chops at the Bull Inn and took
them to Mr Gibbon's house, where they saw the gardens
and the library and then 'sat in a parlour below with
Mr Law and young Gibbon who left us after a little
while over a bottle of French wine'. They talked of
Malebranche and Butler. Young Gibbon was then
twenty-two; his son at the same age would hardly have
left the room.

The scene shifts to Cambridge towards the end of the
same year. After some playing for him Byrom has
secured Mr Law's pupil for a course in shorthand. But
he is elusive and unpromising. He writes wretchedly
and is terribly slow, which is a pity for Mr Law's sake.
Besides he is seldom to be found. Either he has been
playing at quadrille, or he is at the Westminster Club or
gone to Huntingdon. At best Law is able to fetch him out
of the Combination Room. Finally we learn in March
1730: 'Mr Gibbon went to London on Wednesday
last, I think, without telling me and a gentleman of his
acquaintance gave me five guineas at the Music Club'.
More puppy than caterpillar. 1

Soon after this the young man set out on his travels
accompanied by a young Acton kinsman who was a
physician, 2 He does not appear to have gone further
than France and gained an imperfect knowledge of the
language which he subsequently largely forgot. By
1 735 or earlier he was back again, and settled down if
we may use the phrase to a life of pleasure tempered

1 Chetham Society, xxxiv. pp. 337, 411, 421-6, 435.

2 Edward Acton, great-grandson of the second Bt. Walter, by his second
son Walter. Vide Birkbeck EM, p. 276.

15

EDWARD GIBBON

by such responsibility as there was in being elected one
of the members for Petersfield in the general election of
that year. 1 He was now approaching that step in his life
for which his father could least forgive him.

If this Edward Gibbon might be the model of Law's
inconstant man he nevertheless showed himself courage-
ously true where above all constancy is prized. His son
tells us that he had long admired the youngest and
handsomest of three daughters of a neighbouring
family, and neither dissipations nor absence abroad let
him forget his purpose. From old Mr Gibbon's point of
view Miss Judith Porten was an unsatisfactory choice.

The Portens were going down in the world. 2 They
had nothing else to be ashamed of. They were of Dutch
and German descent, and in the course of less than two
centuries in England had prospered and been con-
nected with another German family, members of which
had attained to higher civic dignities than had so far
fallen to the Gibbons. On their plate they engraved
the arms of the Hamburg family von de Porten, 3 and
though it does not follow that they had a right to them,
the fact does show that they claimed a foreign origin.
Several men of this name came from Friesland at the
end of the sixteenth century and from one of them no
doubt descended Gibbon's great-grandfather, Daniel
Porten, a merchant of the Parish of St. Catherine Cree.
He married Thomasine Stanier, the granddaughter of
David Stanier who had come from Cologne in the last

r His father had bought *a weighty share' in the borough in 1710. Edward
Gibbon II sold it to the Jolliffe family in 1739. See Appendix in Birkbeck
Hill, p. 276,

* The name is pronounced with an accent on the last syllable and is often
spelt Poiteen in old records. I am indebted for the information which follows
to Captain C. M. H. Pearce. Genealogical table, Appendix II, p. 357.

a See J. B. Rietstap, Armorial gtntral, ed. Holland, 1911, plate taxiv.

16

THE HOUSE AT PUTNEY

years of the sixteenth century, had received his certifi-
cate of denization and resided in England till his death
of the plague in 1625. One of Thomasine's brothers
was Sir Samuel Stanier, a merchant of Bishopsgate, who
had an estate at Wanstead, Essex, was a colonel of the
Blue Regiment of militia and crowned his career by
holding the Mayoralty of London in 17163 the year
of George Fs coronation. Stanier always remained a
favourite name in the Porten family. If the Portens
were less distinguished than the Staniers, the possession
of plate and books mentioned in their wills indicates that
they were people of substance and culture. They are
believed to have been engaged in the Levant trade.
Daniel Porten had another son who was more successful
in life than Gibbon's grandfather James. Francis was
an alderman and was knighted in 1725-6 when he was
Sheriff. He was also a Director of the Bank of England.

Of James Porten we know that like his uncle Samuel
he was a colonel of the Blue militia. That he was estab-
lished at Putney indicates a certain degree of prosperity
at one time. He had married in 1703 Mary Allen,
daughter of a Putney resident, and of his children, a
son Stanier survived to have a career of some dis-
tinction in the public service; a daughter Mary had
married Robert Darrell in 1724, and their fortunes
rose steadily. But twelve years later, through the mer-
chant's failing credit, his youngest daughter was not
considered good enough for the heir of the whilom
Director of the South Sea Company, who might come
into near one hundred thousand pounds. In fact she
brought her husband only fifteen hundred pounds.

Obstructions were put in the young couple s way from

, both sides. For pride compelled James Porten to follow

his richer neighbour in disapproving of the match. But

Pyramus ana Thisbe in Babylon, Mr Gibbon and

Miss Porten at Putney, the beginnings of such affairs

17 c

EDWARD GIBBON

are much the same. There were clandestine meetings ;
in after-years Catherine Porten used fondly to dwell
on her part in them. A packet of tender letters still
survives. 1 Mr Gibbon's opposition was in vain. He
could only alter his will, and he did. His son and Judith
Porten were married on 3rd June 1736, not at Putney
but at St. Christopher le Stocks. The marriage was by
licence and the ceremony was performed by William
Law. 2 The participation of his chaplain indicates some
sort of resignation on Mr Gibbon's part. Perhaps Law
had taken a hand at reconciling the parties. If so, it was
not the first time he had done this sort of thing. Once
previously the son had been turned out of the house,
apparently for smoking, and Law, who had been accused
of setting them at odds on the question, claimed to have
brought about a reconciliation.

Edward and his wife were received to live in his father's
household. It must have been a very uncomfortable
beginning to married life. Yet Gibbon tells us that his
mother by her beauty, goodness and understanding was
in a fair way to win over her father-in-law's hard heart,
and he was confident that could the old man have lived
to see his first-born grandson, he would have altered an
unjust will. That was not to be, however, for Edward
Gibbon the eldest died and was buried at Putney on
3ist December 1736.

The grandfather's will was not so unfavourable as
Gibbon subsequently tried to make out. He had already
made settlements for his daughter Catherine. To Hester
he left six of his eleven shares in a copper-mine in Gla-
morganshire, his real property at Meething and Plomp-

1 In the possession of Captain G. C. Onslow.

a Why St. Christopher le Stocks? It was not a run-away wedding? apart
from Law^s presence it may be noted that the Gibbons had some connexion
with tiiis church. Two years previously the Rev. Edmund Tew had been
married to Barbara Gibbon of Putney there, Law again performing the cere-
mony.

18

THE HOUSE AT PUTNEY

ton Piddinghoe in Sussex, all upon trust, with remainder
to her children. If she had no children the property was
to go to his right heirs. 1 He also left legacies of 500
each to Hester and to Williams Gibbon. Fifty pounds to
William Law and two other small legacies. All his plate
and household effects at Putney went to his son. The
residue of his personal and real estate was to be held
on trust for his son, with remainder to his sons and
grandsons, and with powers to make jointures for his
wife or wives up to 100 a year for every jiooo he
received.

It does not seem too bad, yet no doubt his son was dis-
satisfied and passed on his discontent to his son, who
expresses it both directly and also in oblique references
in his History, He describes wills 'which prolong the
dominion of the testator beyond the grave' as 'this last
use or abuse of the right of property*, and records
'that the simplicity of the civil law was never clouded
by the long and intricate entails which confine the happi-
ness and freedom of unborn generations'. 2 The law and
lawyers in the eighteenth century were formidable
enough and Gibbon had tiresome experiences of them,
but he had reason on the whole to be thankful for the
law of entail.

Meanwhile young Mr Gibbon had succeeded at Put-
ney and the last glimpse that Byrom gives of him does
not suggest that he was overcome by grief or disappoint-
ment. Byrom arrived just as dinner was going up, and
though he had not dined said that he had, and the hos-
pitable young man pursuing the matter, Byrom lied and
said 'on the other side the bridge'. One can see the easy
smile of the emancipated pupil with his next enquiry as
to how shorthand went on.

1 P. C. C. Wake, 5. There was a charge of interest on 1000 on the above pro-
perty for his brother Matthew as prescribed by his mother Hester Acton's will.

2 The Decline and Folly c. xliv. (5, 308 and 310).

19

EDWARD GIBBON

'I said', replied Byrom, 'that more persons were de-
sirous to learn. After dinner I sat to the table and
drank a few glasses of champagne. Mr* Law eat of
the soup, bee etc., and drank two glasses of red wine,
.one. Church and King, the other, All friends; Mr.
Gibbon fell asleep/ x

That was on the 1 3th April 1737. Somewhere in the
house must have been Mrs Gibbon awaiting her first
confinement.

1 Chetham Society, xL p. 104.

2O

Chapter j

EARLY YEARS

A FORTNIGHT later, on Wednesday, 27th April (O.S.)
JL\ 1 737, Judith Gibbon gave birth to a son. He was
baptized Edward on Friday, I3th May, an apt date for
enemies of superstition. 'There were great doings',
Byrom recorded, 'at the christening of Mr Gibbon's
son.' l

Very probably William Law performed the ceremony.
But the holy and profane elements of this household did
not hold together for long after the old despot's death.
Law is believed to have stayed on for two or three years.
By 1740 he had retired to his native King's Cliffe.
Three years later Hester Gibbon joined him there in
the company of a widowed Mrs Hutcheson. Leading
together a life of devotion and charitable works they
sought to realise the precepts of A Serious Call.

Law did not lead his disciples into a Thebaid. They
lived sparingly but not miserably on a joint expenditure
of 300 a year. During the week they studied and the
ladies wrote spiritual exercises. Miss Gibbon played
the organ. On Sundays after church Law ana Miss
Gibbon rode out on horseback accompanied by a

1 Chetham Society, vol. xl. p. 158. He continues: 'Our landlady says that
his kdy had no fortune, but was a young kdy of good family and reputa-
tion, and that old Mr Gibbon led her to church and back again'. Old Mr
Gibbon was undoubtedly dead at this time, as both the landlady and
Byrom must have known. The phrase is misleading, but cannot refer to the
christening*

21

EDWARD GIBBON

carriage which contained Mrs Hutcheson and 'The
Honourables the Misses Finch Hatton'. In her rare
appearances in society she was like the resurrection of
the kst age. So her nephew said, and if it is true that
she was human enough to go into yellow stockings after
Law's death, imagination may construct ex pede a fan-
tastic figure. But apart from one or two rare interven-
tions the worldly half of the family at Putney were left
to work out their own damnation.

Gibbon had two reasons to complain of his father's
behaviour during these next years. He was neglected in
infancy and his inheritance was embarrassed. Yet his
comments on his father are not without a certain gusto :

'His spirit was lively, his appearance splendid, his aspect cheer-
ful, his address polite; he gracefully moved in the highest circles
of society, and I have heard him boast that he was the only
member of opposition admitted into the old dub at White's
where the first names of the country were often rejected.'

He was equally at his ease in different extremes of
society, with lords or farmers, citizens or fox-hunters,
and was accepted everywhere for his goodfellowship
rather than for any brilliancy. But popularity is expen-
sive. His home was too near London, and 'acquired
the dangerous fame of hospitable entertainment'. He
gambled too, of course. Moreover, he was far from dis-
playing either his father's attention or competence in
business. Within three years of his succession losses
were incurred over some contracts with the Court of
Spain. The Spaniards^d&njitgd ; no one could help that.
But Several undertakings whacferhad been profitable in
the hands of the merchant became barren or adverse in
those of the gentleman*. Yet a gentleman must go on;
money must be found. That is ahufays certain.

Nor was his incursion into politics more impressive.
He had been a member for the borough of Petersfield

22

EARLY YEARS

since 1735. But * n X 739 ^ e disposed of his interest, 1
and at the election of 1741 he stood with Peter Delm6
in the Tory interest for the County of Southampton.
They were elected; the victorious opposition over-
threw Sir Robert Walpole in 1742. But 'after a short
vibration the Pelham government was fixed on the
old basis of the Whig Aristocracy'. 2 Hopes were dis-
appointed and the election had been expensive. When
Parliament dissolved in 1747 Mr Gibbon's wife was
dead, his fortune impaired and he had no inclination to
continue this unpromising career. To become an alder-
man was another way of serving his party which had
less appeal, and after a short tenure he resigned in 1 745
at a time when he was among those perplexed English-
men of Jacobite sentiments who had no appetite for a
rebellion. But he had acquired the tide to fame that he
would least have coveted. When his son came before
the world Horace Walpole chose to recognise him
merely as 'the son of a foolish alderman'. 3

In all his dissipations and diversions this Edward
Gibbon remained constantly attached to his wife, and
she to him, to the detriment of their family. In her de-
sire to please and to restrain her husband she suffered
herself to be dragged through his fashionable follies.
During a married life of less than eleven years she bore
six more children, none of whom lived a year. Her eldest
child was neglected. He hardly knew her. The only
memory he records it remained vivid was driving

i Woodward's History of Hampshire, iii. 320. He sold the manor of Peters-
field to John JolHffe, M.P. Victoria Hist, of Hants, vol. iii. p. 116.

* Murray, p. 30.

3 Gibbon says (Murray, p. 31) his father became an alderman 'in the most
critical season' and 'resigned his Grown at the end of a few months'. But his
father, who was a member of the Fletchers' Company, was made Alderman
of the Vintry Ward in 1743. His resignation was accepted i8th June 1745.
The Court of Aldermen was never anxious to accept resignations. The
reasons in this .case must have been convincing although they are not stated
in the record. Information given by the Record Office, Guildhall.

EDWARD GIBBON

with her across Putney Heath to Dr. Wooddesdon's
school while she told him that he was now going into
the world and must learn to act and think for himself.
He certainly learnt the lesson. He was nine years old
then. That she could have given her son much more
cannot be doubted. Her faithful sister Catherine never
wearied in after-years of enlarging on her charm and
merit. But all Gibbon could claim was that he had a
faint personal resemblance to her.

In this tragic record of waste, Gibbon's own life was
deemed so precarious, he tells us, that as his other
brothers were born they were successively christened
Edward too, in order to secure the name. The registers
at Putney do not bear this out. There only one brother
is called Edward. He was baptized in August and died
on Boxing Day 1740, and perhaps we may infer that
Gibbon himself was despaired of at that time. But this
brother was also called James, as were two others, while
another was called Stanier. The daughter was called
Judith, 1 There seems therefore to have been more con-
cern to perpetuate the Porten family names. 2

The young Gibbon was indeed more of a little Porten
during those early years. It was Miss Porten who sat
by his cot when his life was despaired of, and became
'the true mother of his mind' when he was better. It
was in his grandfather Porten's home an old house
near Putney bridge that he spent his happiest hours
of childhood and in his library first had the free run of
books.

Catherine Porten has her secure place among the
world's perfect aunts. Perhaps she is beyond compare.
The indomitable nurse who had conquered death might
have sought to rule her nephew's life. She never did,
but passed with miraculous smoothness into the posi-

1 Baptized November 1743. Buried March 1744.

a Gibbon's Journal, p. xxix.

2 4

EARLY YEARS

tion of an equal and sensible companion. When he was
eighteen Gibbon was calling her 'dear Kitty', a phrase
which gives warmth and substance to his eloquent
praises of her in his Autobiography. Less familiar, more
spontaneous, though not more genuine, is the account
of his infancy in a letter to Lord Sheffield at the time of
his aunt's death :

'To her care I am indebted in earliest infancy for the preserva-
tion 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 burthen 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 prae-
ceptor I have 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 arid confidence
we lived together, and have often admired her character and
conversation, which could alike please the young and the old/ 1

In the pertness of youth Gibbon recorded a less
gracious opinion of her powers. 'She is far from wanting
sense but it is friendship, . gratitude and confidence
which contribute chiefly to attach me to her/ 2 Later he
wrote of her 'clear and manly understanding'. 3 Both the
judgment and sentiment of the older man may have
been truer. She was well read in English, her only lan-
guage, enjoyed religious discussions and was sometimes
puzzled by the theological conundrums which her
nephew, like any clever child, propounded. He is said
to have offered to kill her, since she was so good that she
was bound to go to heaven; while if she went on living,
she might become wicked. She had a partiality for

1 Prothtro, ii., letter of loth May 1786, p. 144.
* Gibbon's Journal, i8th January 1763, p. 302, 3 Murray, p. 117.

EDWARD GIBBON

Shaftesbury's writings, not a great sign of orthodoxy.
But her will is 'markedly religious in tone and her
nephew cannot have imbibed any scepticism from her.
He says he believed implicitly when he went to Oxford.
She has the enviable fame of being the first to kindle his
imagination with Pope's Homer and the Arabian Nights.
They were lasting influences.

The tale of his sufferings is long and curious. Besides
the accidents of being starved by his nurse and 'bitten
by a dog vehemently suspected of madness', he tended
towards consumption and dropsy, was subject to violent
fluctuations of temperature, suffered a contraction of the
nerves, and had a fistula in one eye. Smallpox he escaped,
thanks to inoculation, his parents or aunt being them-
selves immune from the current religious and even poli-
tical prejudice against it. Every healer from Sir Hans
Sloane and Dr. Mead to less regular practitioners such
as Ward and Taylor was called in, 1 and to the end of his
life his body was scarred with the cuts and burns of their
treatment. A particularly serious bout of illness in 1 750
put an end to any plan of regular attendance at a school.
But within three years of this his afflictions lifted unex-
pectedly and he was henceforward to enjoy a remark-
able regularity of health, with a corresponding growth
in mental vigour. It is not surprising therefore that he
fell in with his admired Buffon's opinion that the child
is little or nothing until the age of puberty is reached. 2

It would seem probable that these miscellaneous symp-
toms are to be accounted for by infantile rheumatism.

Influenced then by his theory of mental and physical
development Gibbon does not linger over memories of
childhood. It was rendered a disgusting topic by his
many sufferings. Moreover, he would not attempt to

1 In the vulgate text the contrast is spoilt by the reading 'from Sloane and
Ward to the Chevalier Taylor*.
a Murray, p. 35, and extract from Buffon there quoted; also p. 97.

26

EARLY YEARS

distinguish between things that he actually remembered
and those which he might fancy he remembered al-
though they had been actually told to him later. His
earliest recollection went back to his fourth year, to a
whipping he received then and to his revenge taken in
shouting out the names of his father's opponents in the
election of 1 741 . He had a pleasant memory of his in-
fant sister who died in 1 744, and always regretted that
this relationship with a contemporary of the other sex,
the only truly platonic one, had been denied to him.
He claimed, what is scarcely credible, not to remember
when he learnt to read and write, and records that his
prowess at figures was so good that they might well have
made a mathematician of him.

After some instruction at home and at a day school, his
education began formally at the age of seven under the
care of the Reverend John Kirkby, another non-juring
parson, who appears to have taken Law's place as chap-
lain and tutor at Putney. He was a man of some origin-
ality too original to succeed either in his profession
or out of it. He ruined his chances of preferment by a
pamphlet, and lost his tutorship by forgetting or re-
fusing to include King George's name at prayers. 1 In
this man's brief reign of eighteen months Gibbon learnt
some arithmetic and the rudiments of Latin.

The next experiment on this feeble body was Dr.
Wooddesdon's school at Kingston. This was not a pri-
vate school as is sometimes stated, but an old foundation
known to-day as Kingston Grammar School. But it had
been purged of its vulgarities by a successful head-
master,

'and consisted of members of aristocratic families alone, who not
only claimed none of the privileges of the school as a Free
Endowed School, but in the only case in which those privileges
were claimed, so maltreated the unfortunate youth whose father

1 Compare Murrey 9 p. 40 with p. 221.

27

EDWARD GIBBON

had the temerity to seek those advantages that he was mercifully
removed, and thus the intentions of the Royal Founder were for
a time entirely frustrated'. 1

Nevertheless it was a severe change from a luxurious
home to the bleak status of a boarder and insignificance
among a crowd of seventy boys whom the rod, and per-
haps the rod alone, impartially coerced. That was the
order of the day, and if the price of Latin was blood and
tears, that does not imply unusual brutality. Wooddes-
don is said to have been liked. For the rest, Gibbon was
too puny and too shy to join the boys' play: but he
could not avoid the abuse and cuffs that were aimed at a
young Tory in the year after the '45.

In a short time another change was brought about
by two events which happened in the space of a few
months. Mrs Gibbon died in December and her son
was then finally withdrawn from Kingston. 2 In the
following spring James Porten became bankrupt and
absconded. 3

Father and son were not drawn together by the
mother's death. They did not meet until some weeks
afterwards. The scene then was never to be forgotten.

'The awful silence, the room hung with black, the midday
tapers, his sighs and tears; his praises of my mother a saint in
heaven j his solemn adjuration that I would cherish her memory

1 Biden, History and Antiquities of Kingston-upon-Thames, p. 75. Wooddes-
don was headmaster 1732-72. His success necessitated hiring another house.
This was Hertington Combe or Hert Combe Place at the foot of Kingston
Hill on the right from London, op. cit. There is no direct evidence, however,
that this was where Gibbon boarded. Hayley, Steevens, the Shakespearian
editor, Gilbert Wakefield, Edward Lovibond and other men of some distinc-
tion were there. See references in Murray, p. 43, n.

2 Gibbon is very uncertain about the dates of this period of his life and the
wrong ones were incorporated in his Autobiography. His mother died Decem-
ber 1746, was buried January 1747; his grandfather's failure was in 1747. He
entered Westminster January 1748. Putney Parish Registers; Record of Old
Westminsters; B. HiU, p. 278.

3 He did not disappear altogether. He died in 1750, and is recorded in the
Putney burial register as Colonel James Porten. See also Appendix II,

28

EARLY YEARS

and imitate her virtues; and the fervour with which he kissed
and blessed me as the sole surviving pledge of their loves.'

The husband's grief was genuine in its characteristic
extravagance. His zest for pleasure was broken, and
after some half-hearted efforts to resume the old gay life
he retired to the rural interests of Buriton. Economy
too, his son hints, was on the side of grief in this re-
nunciation. But he could appeal to his son's sentiment
without making a burden of his own obligations to the
same memory, and his were much greater obligations.
It does not appear that he spent much time or thought
on his son. For some nine months during the year 1 747
Gibbon was living in his grandfather's house by Putney
bridge. After the old man's disappearance the library
that had been hitherto kept locked was left open, and
while his elders were distracted with their troubles the
child 'rioted without control' in it, helping himself to
any volume that caught his fancy and reading widely in
English poetry and romances, history and travels. His
mind was plentifully nourished and grew rapidly.

His father now determined that he should go to his
own old school; his aunt made so bold a step possible.
At the age of forty she had been suddenly faced, by her
father's ruin, with the necessity of making a living. 1
Some friends came to her aid, and she staked her re-
sources on a boarding-house for Westminster boys.
This was mainly for the sake of her nephew, who became
her first inmate in Great College Street in January 1 748.

Instead of seventy boys it was now a matter of over

1 Gibbon speaks of her as 'destitute'. This is perhaps too strong. She had
a small annuity and could always have found a home with the Gibbons, to
whom she was indispensable. But she had and saw an opportunity of serving
her nephew. The house she took had belonged to Vincent Bourne, who had
certainly taken in boarders. She took none over from him, but started, as
stated in the text, with Gibbon alone. Her enterprise was rewarded. In time
she had forty to fifty boys, moved to the house on the terrace of Dean's Yard
which was lately the Church House, and retired with a competence.

29

EDWARD GIBBON

three hundred. They were taught in the babel of one
room by two masters and about half a dozen ushers.
Yet the chances were that if Gibbon's health had been
better he would have been happier there than at Kings-
ton, and he would have attained to that finished scholar-
ship which he was destined to envy at a distance. He
admits rather grudgingly that he could not rise to the
Third Form without improving his knowledge of Latin. 1
He did not begin Greek. He took no part in such
games as there were, but a cryptic note to Memoir F, 2
contrasting the 'margent green' of the Thames of Gray's
Eton with the barges and carpenters' yairds of the West-
minster riverside, suggests that he sometimes went down
to watch his fellows, 'the idle progeny', swimming or
rowing.

From what he saw of it Gibbon could not take the
English public school very seriously. It had its advan-
tages, mainly social, for those who were strong enough
to stand the life. It could produce scholars, but turned
out the average boy entirely ignorant of the world of
affairs. A school in general he judged to be 'a cavern of
fear and sorrow'. The pupil worked in continual fear
of the inevitable rod, and was devoid of the finer sensi-
bilities which came with manhood. He was a captive
mentally as well as physically, and for Gibbon freedom
was always a blessing second only to health.

A brief friendship with Lord Huntingtower was
thought worth recording, the first perhaps of those
rather impulsive leanings towards young men of his own
age which he manifested later on. After his return from
Switzerland he tried to pick up the threads. But the
young peer did not respond, and Gibbon was too proud
to persist. 3 In the school with him were a number of
men whom he was to meet here and there when he
returned from Switzerland. Westminster at that time

1 Murray, p. 115. * Murray, p. 59. 3 Murray, p. 53.

30

EARLY YEARS

pretty well divided the fashionable world with Eton.
His brief stay at Westminster may have given him some
footing in it, but it is doubtful. 1

Early in 1 750 his health was worse than ever. On the
advice of Miss Dorothea Patton, whom his father was
later to marry, he was taken to Dr. Joshua Ward and
gained relief. He did not return to Westminster again
except for a brief and unsuccessful trial in the following
year. There followed an aimless period during which
he was taken about the country partly in search of
health, partly on visits to his father's friends. An ex-
tract from a brief summary of his life which he wrote
will give the best idea of this period :

1750. March. Attacked with violent malady: owed my

deliverance to Dr. Ward.
August. Went to Bath for the first time.
December. My father took me from Bath and brought

me up to London.

1751. Febr. Was put under the care of Mr. Philips. 2
March. Was removed from thence and again sent to

Bath.
August. Sent to Winchester under the care of Dr.

Langrish.
Dec. 24th. Was settled at Putney in a private house.

1752. Febr. Was taken from Putney and carried about

with my father.
April 3rd. Was matriculated at Oxford. 3

Gibbon wrote off the four years 1748-52 as lost. But
there was a ray of light in the darkness. He was nearing
the end of his childish ailments. For a brief period he
was put with a clergyman at Bath and read with pleasure
some Latin poetry with him. In a further improvement
of health he was sent to Philip Francis at Esher. Francis
was a scholar and, like many other parsons of the day,

* Gibbon's Journal, pp. xliii-xlv. * A slip for Philip Francis.

3 Add. MSS. 3777*. The whole is printed in Gibbon's Journal, pp. xlvi-
xlvii.

31

EDWARD GIBBON

had tried to be a dramatist. His translation of Horace
enjoyed a long lease of favour. Since it was understood
that he was not to have more than two or three pupils,
the prospect seemed good. But Francis was too often
up in town leaving the boys 'in the custody of a Dutch
Usher of low manners and contemptible learning'. Mr
Gibbon descended and took away his son in indignation.
All the varieties of education had now been tried save
one. The perplexed father adopted it and entered his
son as a gentleman commoner at Magdalen College,
Oxford. 1 In April 1752 Gibbon arrived there Vith a
stock of erudition which might have puzzled a doctor
and a degree of ignorance or which a schoolboy would
have been ashamed'. 2

Did Gibbon tend to depreciate the extent of his
scholarship at this time, or were the standards so much
higher in his day? He was under fifteen. Yet in spite
of his broken schooling he had read some Horace and
Virgil with pleasure, and he could sit down by himself
to puzzle out the crabbed Latin of Pococke's Abul-
pAaragius and guess at the French of d'Herbelot's
Bibliothtyue Orientate. 3 He might have done better, he
acknowledges. He had succumbed to the heresy that

1 It is understandable that Emmanuel was not chosen, but why Magdalen?
Dr. Wooddesdon had been there and his advice has been suggested* It does
not^seem very likely. Mr Gibbon leased some Magdalen land at Buriton.
This connexion with the college may be the explanation.

a Murrey, p. 122.

according to D. P.'s (? Daniel Parker) recollections, Gent. Mag., 1794,
Gibbon bought d'Herbelot at Oxford. It seems possible that Gibbon tends
to postdate the reading of certain books. He could not have been very ignorant
of Latin when he consulted Scaliger, and he complains that Terence was too
easy an author for Dr. Waldegrave to read with him. Although there can be
no doubt that he began The Age ofSesostris in his first and only long vacation
(Memoir F, Murray, p. 79), in Memoirs B and C (Murray, pp. 122 and 224)
he might be understood to say he began this before he went to Oxford. No
doubt it is true that his childish rest was disturbed by chronological problemsj
it is worth noting, however, that on 2ist October 1762 he records thinking
about Roman and Greek calendars in bed (Journal, p. 166). The general
truth of Gibbon's account of his early reading cannot DC doubted, but there
is some evidence of sacrificing to epigrammatic effect.

32

NEARLY YEARS

nothing was to be gained by learning languages when
there were serviceable translations, and his aunt, know-
ing only English, had not opposed him. But it is im-
probable that he has exaggerated his achievements on the
other side. Before he was sixteen x he had not only sur-
veyed the ancient world and mastered all the English
authorities for Oriental history which he was later to
employ, but he had ranged eagerly across the globe,
sometimes in the company of Jesuit missionaries, from
China to Peru.

Gibbon was always impressed by the part which acci-
dents play in history. It was to an accident, the dis-
covery of Eachard's History of the Later Roman Empire
when visiting Mr Hoare's house at Stourhead in 1751,
that he ascribes his introduction to those ages and lands
which he was to make his own. But one accident is as
good and as inevitable as another when a powerful im-
pulse is seeking an outlet. If not Eachard then some
other book. By one channel or another the swelling
stream must find its way to the tracts it is destined to
flood and fertilise.

Pious admirers have lamented that this or that influ-
ence did not bear on Gibbon's life. If only William Law
had been in charge of the son instead of the father. If
the Fellows of Magdalen had held Confirmation classes.
If Gibbon had married the devout Mile Curchod. Such
speculations are futile. Whether it was reason or instinct
Gibbon himself disclaimed to know, but we must re-
cognise with him that from the start he was guided
inexorably to what he rightly called his proper food. So
much is this so that the chances of his life appear to be
the essential expression of an ordered destiny. Those
indeed who believe in Providence might have some
odd reflexions in contemplating his career. Had these
chances been different the external order of things might

1 'Sixteenth year' includes Oxford. See previous note.

33 D

EDWARD GIBBON

have been altered, perhaps disastrously. Poverty or
marriage might have sucked him down into daily affairs ;
but it is impossible to believe that the inner Gibbon
would have been very different.

A year before the accident at Stourhead a letter, the
earliest surviving piece from his hand, reveals the auth-
entic Gibbon, a child still but with some of the man's
characteristic predilections. The bent towards history
is obvious.

'KINGS WESTON
* December $ist, 1750
'MADAM,

'Being arrived at Mr. Southwell's house at Kings Weston, I
could not forbear writing to you to inform you that I like the
Place Prodigously. I Ride out very often and Sometimes Go in
Mr. Southwell's Coach which Last I infinitely prefer to the
former. Kings Weston is a Most Grand House and Mr. South-
well has a Great Many Books. Yesterday I went to a Chappel
(it being Sunday) and after Church upon our Return home we
veiwed the Remains of an -ancient Camp which pleased me
vastly. Mr. Mrs. and Master Southwell all Desire their Com-
pliments to you together with Whom I also Join myself, and
your Enjoyment of many happy New Years is the Sincere
wish of

'Madam,

'Your Most Dutiful Nephew,

*EDWARD GIBBON

T.S. Master Southwell will come to Westminster the
of Next Month.' 1

Reading free, desultory reading had been the con-
solation of his ailing years. It now became a master
passion. His imagination had been led captive from
one enchanted castle to another along the road to the
Empire and the East. From D'Aulnoy 2 and the Arabian

* Add. MSS. 34883.

a Do children still read D'Aulnoy? Forty years ago there was a capital
English edition.

34

EARLY YEARS

Nights to Pope's Homer was a beginning whose impres-
sion was never effaced; the spell weakened with Dry-
den's Virgil but recovered at the gate of Sandys' Ovid.
Then the path broadened out and seemed lost in the
profusion of poetry, romances, history and travel re-
vealed in the old house by Putney Bridge. At last came
that morning in Wiltshire when he crossed the Danube
with the Goths into the heart of the Roman Empire. He
never came out of it again.

The demand for books now became incessant. He
bought, he borrowed, he ferreted. At home or on visits
the astonishing boy was found in the midst of forgotten
folios of the last century, on which he was ready and
anxious to lecture the perplexed ladies and gentlemen.
One begins to be almost sorry for the unconsoled
widower who had to 'carry about' such a problem round
the country houses of England. Gibbon can seldom
have met anyone capable of helping or following him
in his progress. He never was to meet many travellers
on that long road. From the beginning must have
grown up that self-sufficiency which is so often -evident
in the rather hectoring notes to The Decline and Fall.

The mere names of ins authors, devoured like so many
novels, are terrific and he knows it, marshalling them
still with pride after forty years. But think of the heavy
leather tomes, the columns of close print and the almost
complete absence of the modern aids to quick reference.
Let anyone take up Scaliger's De Emendatione Tern-
forum to solve a chronological problem and remember
the untaught Gibbon consulting it. For with puberty
came mind; so Gibbon experienced and believed. And
mind meant the pressing need for solidity and har-
mony; it brought out the creative and critical instinct
of a man. He studied geography and maps and ac-
quired a satisfying picture of the ancient world. Then
dates had to be settled. He entered into the most com-

35

EDWARD GIBBON

plicated investigations. Strauchius and Usher, whose
dates we used to marvel at in our Authorised Versions,
Prideaux and Petavius, Scaliger, Marsham, Newton,
were summoned to the debate. The boy presided and
presumed to be critically weighing these venerable
authorities against one another; he was at times unable
to sleep because the chronology of the Hebrew Old
Testament disagreed with that given in the Greek
translation.

What a mixture of anticipations must have been his
as he rolled over Magdalen bridge for the first time.
A child not quite fifteen was now an Oxford man.
He had three spacious rooms to himself in the stately
pile of New Buildings, money such as a schoolboy
scarcely dreams of, the fine silk gown and velvet cap
which brought obsequiousness even from the highest,
with no duties and many privileges, and his own key
to the college library. Oxford had long had a name
for Oriental learning: his old friends Pococke and
Prideaux for instance. There were libraries here;
there should be scholars. What could they not do for
him? Latin, Greek, even Arabic should be his for the
asking.

Chapter 4

OXFORD

1752-1753

HE ALWAYS wore black, it is recorded, and often came
into Hall late. As a gentleman commoner he was
allowed to join the Fellows as the fiery Oxford port wine
went the round. Boylike he expected that their con-
versation would turn on the subjects of their profession,
on Cicero for instance, and Chrysostom. But he was as
disappointed as Verdant Green on a livelier occasion.
The dons were absorbed in stale gossip and scandal,
enlivened only by the interest of a local election.

The stagnation of the college was complete. The
Fellows held their places unmolested by any duties or
criticism until their turn came to go down, if they chose,
to a country living. The Demies or Scholars, who owed
their gowns often enough to the lucky chance of being
born in a certain county rather than to their wits, were
waiting, if they could endure it, to succeed to Fellow-
ships and were often allowed to retain their Demyships
beyond their statutory term. A great number of them
were graduates. Of the handful of gentleman com-
moners nothing was expected but that they should dis-
play their gentlemanliness according to the mode of
their time. For them certainly there was no discipline,
and for neither class any instruction or incentives.
There were no ordinary commoners. The medieval
exercises for a degree had ceased to be of use, and only
the empty form of them survived. No one had thought

37

EDWARD GIBBON

of introducing anything else. The tale was much the
same throughout the University, but 'at Magdalen
some of the conditions which favoured the slothmlness
of the time were even more powerful than in other
societies', 1

In such conditions Gibbon, appearing but fitfully,
became at once a legend rather than a figure. He was
seen in Parker's bookshop buying not the latest play
but d'Herbelot's Eibliothlque Orientate. He was known
to be full of Oriental learning, perhaps even a Ma-
hommedan. Everyone could see the humour of that. A
Fellow certainly did tell the laughing young gentlemen
that if their heads were scooped & coarse joke that,
thought Dr. Routh later there were enough brains in
little Mr Gibbon's big head to fill them all. Had he
been older and more robust no doubt they would have
ragged him. They let him alone. Everyone let him
alone. He was nobody's business in this rich corpora-
tion endowed for learning and the edification of youth.

That is not absolutely true. He was assigned to a tutor
according to such system as there was, to whom was
due twenty guineas for his mental and moral instruction.
Dr. Waldegrave did betray a faint interest. He even
took his pupil for walks on Headington Hill. He dis-
suaded him, not unwisely, from beginning Arabic as
yet. But of the life that was seething in that head he
seems to have been quite incurious. 'Had I in the least
suspected your design of leaving us', he wrote with cool
urbanity when Gibbon had gone, 'I should immediately
have put you upon reading Mr. Chillingworth's Religion
of Protestants ' In the meantime he put his pupil upon
reading Terence's plays. But his exposition was so dull
and the Latin so easy that Gibbon ventured on an
experiment. He tried cutting a lecture and offering
an excuse. It succeeded. He cut again and finally al-

1 H. Al Wilson, Magdalen CoUe^ p. 222.

38

OXFORD

together. Nothing happened, all was smiles and courtesy
still for a gentleman commoner.

After a vacation Waldegrave had slipped away in
silence to a Sussex rectory. His pupil was transferred
he had no choice in the matter to Dr. Winchester,
whom he could not respect at all. In one memoir he
hints against his moral character; in another he says
that his reputation in the college was that of a broker
and salesman. The Doctor was eager to take his fees but
did nothing in return. By this time Gibbon had got
beyond cutting a lecture. He had discovered that he
could absent himself from the college for a night, for
several nights, and return again unquestioned as though
it were to some hired lodgings. His excursions were
quite innocent. He who had seen little of the world but
sickrooms and schoolrooms was seized with a zest for
travelling. Sometimes alone, sometimes in company,
he made visits to London, to Bath, to Buckingham,
to Nuneham Courtenay and to Lord Cobham's place
at Stowe. Nothing was said. 1

College life is a mixture of solitude and inconsiderate
interruption. At the best it requires some strength of
character to make the most of the former boon. In the
absence of direction from above and stimulating com-
panionship Gibbon found the conditions fatal to his
studies. He became idle and aimless. The time was
completely lost. Only in vacation did he find his zest
for study returning, but it was still 'the same blind and
boyish taste for the pursuit of exotic history'. Inspired
by Voltaire's Stick de Louis XIFhe determined to write
a book. He dived into Egyptian history, and began
an essay on the Age of Sesostris. The long summer
days passed unmolested while he laboured once more

1 His first absence was in his first term, a visit to Lord Nuneham, ist June
1752. In the following year they became frequent. There was^no secrecy
apparently; he met his father in London on one occasion. For his record of
these movements, see Gibbon's Journal, p. xlviL

39

EDWARD GIBBON

with vigour and ingenuity on chronological problems.
Several sheets were written. He was eager for publicity
and applause, but his first symptoms of taste appeared
when he perceived his own weaknesses, and the work
was abandoned. The next adventure of his mind was
to bring him more than enough publicity.

Gibbon asserts that he was too young to sign the
Thirty-Nine Articles on matriculation, and although
the Vice-Chancellor told him to return when he was
fifteen, the matter was forgotten. But his signature to
the Articles on 4th April is in the University Archives.
Anyone over twelve could sign. Perhaps there is a con-
fusion with the Oath of Supremacy, which could not be
taken under sixteen. Gibbon in any case was as good
as lost by then. This inaccuracy impairs his attack. Yet
it is plain that not only in outward forms, so important
to the young, was there neglect. In the very citadel
of the Church of England no one troubled to see if the
young soldiers possessed the most ordinary equipment.
Uninstructed, unconfirmed and unchallenged, Gibbon
groped his way alone to the communion table. What
did it matter, what difference did it make whether you
catechised the gentlemen commoners between their
hunting and their nightly toasts? But it was inevitable
that a boy of Gibbon's intelligence must cry for satis-
faction on these great questions. If no one was to do
anything, hemust help himself. He sought for enlighten-
ment from books, and was led by the clamour of the
day to the most provoking mind in the theological arena.

Dr. Conyers Middleton, D.D., a fellow of Trinity
College, Cambridge, and a beneficed clergyman, is as-
sessed by Leslie Stephen as 'this most insidious of all
assailants of Christianity'. 1 He was a lively, pugnacious
man, a real danger to tranquillity. He could, think and
he wrote admirably. As a young man he had dared to

1 English Thought in the Eighteenth Century, i. p. 270.
40

OXFORD

abuse Dr. Bentley, the masterful Master of Trinity. By
sallies of this kind he spoiled his chances of the high
preferment which his talents deserved. He travelled
and recorded in A Letter from Rome his observation of
pagan survivals in the Catholic rites. It was all in the
cause of Protestantism he said.

Religious controversialists are generally short-sighted
men with longer weapons than they imagine. When
they take a smashing blow at an adversary they are apt
to be carried full circle and catch a valuable ally in a
vital part. It was all a question of miracles once more,
that sad embarrassment of religious aspiration.

The problem was an old one for Protestants. They
agreed that God had withdrawn the power of working
miracles. But when was that? In the fourth century, or
the third, or the second? The English Divines had
shirked the question of determining the exact date of
the cessation of miracles, but it was generally agreed
that miracles had continued for some three centuries.
They accepted this because they wished to rely not only
oh the Bible but on the tradition of the primitive church
of which the miracles were an inseparable part. Middle-
ton, stimulated by his visit to Rome and not improved
in temper by his lack of preferment, attacked this posi-
tion. He showed that the purity of the primitive church's
doctrine was imaginary. Most of the practices repudi-
ated by the reformed churches had grown up during
those early centuries, and therefore, if miracles were
God's method of signalising his approval of pure doc-
trine it was impossible to accept these miracles.

About four years before Gibbon went up to Oxford,
Middleton published a book whose full title is suggest-
ive. It was A Free Enquiry into the Miraculous Powers
which are supposed to have subsisted in the Christian
Church from the Earliest Ages through Successive Cen-
turies. The line of attack was mainly to discredit the

EDWARD GIBBON

literary evidence. He showed some of the Fathers to
have been of poor intellectual powers and of doubtful
honesty. Miracles were propagated by impostors or
their easy dupes. This was hard on the Fathers. To
those who do not believe in these miracles to-day Middle-
ton may appear lacking in psychological and historical
insight. But the great advance which he made was in
reducing a theological question to a matter of historical
criticism. It was an attack on the doctrine of inspiration,
a demonstration that Christian testimony must be treated
like any other evidence and that history was continuous.

It is true that he still allowed the immunity of the Bible,
or at least the New Testament, from such methods. No
one doubted the truth and excellence of God's revealed
word nor the reality, therefore, of the miracles by which
men were to be impressed. But this was an artificial
position which could not stand long. Middleton's sin-
cerity is not the question here. Gibbon wrote of him
twelve years later, 'he saw where his principles led; but
he did not think proper to draw the consequences'.
Middleton was in fact a true forerunner of Gibbon. His
book marks the end of a chapter of controversy, simply
because his adversaries were not prepared to follow him
on to the new ground of historical criticism. It is not
surprising, therefore, that the young undergraduate was
bewildered.

He read the book, and the shock carried him exactly
into the position that Middleton had foreseen and was
trying to overthrow. 1 Gibbon had an implicit belief in
the continuance of miraculous powers. Middleton
could not destroy that. He had, on the other hand,
obligingly revealed to him the full tale of the doctrines
and practices of those times which must be accepted
with the miracles. The logic of it was simple and in-
exorable. All thanks to Dr. Middleton.

* Middleton, Introductory Discourse (1755), p. xlv.

42

OXFORD

The rest of the journey was soon accomplished and in
excellent company. By one of those chances which so
often turn up at such a juncture. Gibbon had fallen in
with a young man, not a member of his college or of the
University apparently, who had already gone the same
way. 1 This youth lent him some Popish books and the
conversion was completed by reading in English two
famous books of Bossuet L? Exposition de la Doctrine
de rEglise Catholique sur les matifres de controverse and
Histoire des Variations des Eglises Protestantes.

In the Exposition Bossuet had stated his case with such
moderation as to draw upon himself the suspicions if
not the censure of his own side. His Histoire des
Variations was a masterly dissection, of the innumerable
phases of Protestant thought. Where Locke and his
followers had seen in the inability of human minds
to agree upon a single conclusion a fundamental plea
for toleration, Bossuet surveying the same phenomena
called for a recognition of the one authority, namely, the
Church, with whom the only truth had been deposited
throughout the ages. He makes his points with the
suavity and seeming candour of one who was accus-
tomed to win the ear of the most cultivated audiences
in Europe. There was all the difference between this
highly placed advocate suavely addressing 'Messieurs
de la Religion Pr&endue R6forme' and the slashing
methods characteristic then of Anglican controversy.
The boy was easily won, and if he was lost later, he had
learnt something of permanent value from the French-
man's serene art. 2

His next steps are well known. He went to a Roman
Catholic bookseller, John Lewis of Russell Street, Covent

1 Gibbon left the name blank. Sheffield gives Mr Molesworth. The name
is neither on the college books nor in Foster's Alumni Oxon.

* Sheffield relates that Gibbon only discussed his conversion with him once
and then imputed it to the works of an Elizabethan Jesuit called Parsons, who
had urged all the best arguments in favour of the Roman faith.

43

EDWARD GIBBON

Garden, and by him was passed on to Father Bernard

Baker, S J., one of the chaplains to the Sardinian Am-
bassador, whose chapel was at Lincoln's Inn Fields. 1 The
priest had nothing to do but accept the sincerity of the
conversion, and on the 8th June 1 753 at his feet Gibbon
'solemnly though privately abjured the errors of heresy*. 2

This was high treason. Both Gibbon and the priest
were liable to severe penalties. The humanity or in-
difference of the age might give them confidence. But
the conversion or seduction of a young man of property
was no small matter. It made some stir when the news
came out, and the bookseller was brought before the
Privy Council for interrogation. Before that, on his new
director's advice, Gibbon had written a letter to his
father announcing his conversion. He described it in
later years as 'written with all the pomp, the dignity,
and self-satisfaction of a martyr'.

His father, he says, was neither a bigot nor a philo-
sopher, but he was justifiably alarmed and outraged.
He had sent his son with every generous advantage to
play the gentleman at Oxford, and his son had rewarded
him by taking a step which would cut him off from
every office and privilege which an English gentleman
might look to.

It was impossible to keep the secret and consequently
the ga\tes of Magdalen were shut against the pupil's
return. \ T^rerwas no formal expulsion, and no dis-
grace. 3 \But something would have to be done.

Mr Gifcbon acted with his usual precipitation and

1 For John iWis and Father Baker, see article by Edward Hutton, 'Gibbon's
Conversion', Nineteenth Century and After, March 1932.

a He had begin to consider this step in March apparently. Murray, p. 296.
It was in this mWth that he made his excursion in Bucks. On i8th April he
went to Londonv alone and stayed there till 30th. From May 10 to 18 he was
on a visit to Batjh. After his reception into the Roman Church it does not
appear that he efer returned to Oxford. Gibbon's Journal, p. xlviij Add.
MSS. 37772. \

3 His caution moi^ey was returned to him in 1755.

44

OXFORD

originality. Pending something more final, William
Law's old pupil deposited his son with a leading free-
thinker. Mr David Mallet is unforgettably the beg-
garly Scotchman of Johnson's taunt, to whom Boling-
broke left half a crown to discharge the blunderbuss
against religion and morality which he had not dared to
fire himself. He was now living at Putney, engaged on
priming this weapon. A friendship of some intimacy
had sprung up with the Gibbons. Some clumsily play-
ful verses are quoted in the Autobiography, in which
Mallet invites an inconsolable widower to throw off his
melancholy for once and join in their festivities. How
far his deistical opinions were making way with Mr
Gibbon we do not know. But two years after Gibbon's
departure for Lausanne there was a curious explosion
which throws some light on the scene. Hester Gibbon
came on a visit to Putney a rare and formidable event
we may suppose and expressed her disapproval of the
Mallets to her niece Catherine Elliston. Catherine not
daring to answer her aunt to her face, stood up for her
friends in a spirited letter. The aunt concocted a stirring
ungrammatical reply: 'If Miss Elliston had not lost all
sense of dutyi both to God and ipan, she would not treat
in such a saucy and contemptible manner her who is the
nearest female relative she has . . . and for no other
reason than for acting as suitable as I could to these
relations I bear to her. . . .' Law restrained her from
letting go this tirade and substituted a letter of his own
dictation which deplored the fact that the Gibbons were
'shut among infidels, rejoicing in their friendship, and
thankful for having a seat where dead Bolingbroke yet
speaketh , . . both you and your unhappy uncle sooner
or later must find that falseness, baseness and hypocrisy
make the whole heart and spirit of every blasphemer of
Jesus Christ'. 1

Overtoil's William Law, pp. 355-6.

45

EDWARD GIBBON

That was going ratter far certainly, and one wonders
what complications would have ensued if Aunt Hester
had intervened two years earlier. As it was, the young
convert was sufficiently scandalised by Mallet's philo-
sophy, while from his father he got nothing but threats
of banishment and disinheritance. 1

But he had only a few days of this. With headlong
speed his father made other arrangements. Lord
Chesterfield had made a residence in Switzerland
fashionable for young men. Philip Stanhope had been
sent there in 1 746 and with him had been Edward Eliot
of Port Eliot, Cornwall, a wealthy young landowner.
He was a friend of the Gibbons and a few years later
was to marry Catherine Elliston with sixty thousand
pounds. On this young man's advice Lausanne was
determined on for the convert. Without waiting to cor-
respond with anyone there, Mr Gibbon despatched his
son on the I9th June in the charge of M. Frey of Bale,
a professional bear-leader.

As they rolled across France Gibbon's spirits rose.
Here was real travelling. M. Frey was an agreeable
companion, a man of the world and well read. At every
stage new interests distracted the young man's mind, as
they passed through St. Quentin, Rheims, Langres and
Besanfon. His father's angry threats grew faint in his
ears. One could not really believe in them. On 3Oth
June they drove into Lausanne. 2 Without loss of time
M. Frey installed his charge with M. Daniel Pavillard,
a Calvinist minister, and left for Geneva. 3

1 Mr Gibbon could banish but not disinherit.

2 The journey cost 40 73.5 the Dover-Calais crossing i 6s. Frey drew
42 from Mme Morel at Calais. Magd. Coll. Papers.

' Pavillard. He always signs his name Pavilliard in extant letters, but that
seems to have been a concession to the English.

4 6

Chapter $

NO. 1 6 RUE CIT-DERRIERE

TTVISILLUSIONMENT was sudden and complete. It
JL/looked now as if Gibbon was to achieve a martyr's
crown, though not a very spectacular one. The gentle-
man commoner was become a schoolboy once more;
worse than a schoolboy, in fact. His contemporaries at
Westminster might be roughing it; but they were glori-
ously free in comparison. Gibbon was neither free nor
comfortable. His movements were restricted. He had
no money beyond what Pavillard doled out to him. He
was penned up in a gloomy house in a narrow street
near the Cathedral, separated by a deep valley from the
Bourg quarter, which was the centre of native and
foreign social life. 1 He was cut off from all intelligent
intercourse by his ignorance of French. Pavillard him-
self he found kindly and tactful, but of his wife, on whom
he was dependent for comfort, he could only say in later
years 'in sober truth she was ugly, dirty, proud, ill-

1 No. 1 6 rue Cit6-derriere. The house was standing in 1935, though marked
for destruction. Its amenities have not been improved by its being used for
years as a military prison, and the interior has been altered considerably. On
the first floor is a long narrow room looking on to the street. It is the only
room in the house with a fireplace, and since Pavillard tells Mr Gibbon that
he has given his son a room with an open fire, we may identify this as his
room. In the following year Pavillard transferred to a house now pulled
down, which stood near L'Escalier des Grandes Roches, on what is now the
wide roadway at the Cit end of the Pont Bessieres.

47

EDWARD GIBBON

tempered and covetous'. 1 Everything was wrong. His
books had been stopped in Paris and he had no clothes
suitable for the hot weather. He had nothing left to
console him but his new-found religion and the con-
sciousness of having acted from pure and unworldly
motives. Even here, to his lasting amazement, he was
abandoned. The Catholic clergy were supposed to have
spread a network of vigilant communication across
Europe. But no one ever followed up the young convert
or even wrote to him.

It may be thought that Gibbon has exaggerated his
plight in his Memoirs. A letter written to his father
exactly a month after his arrival is perfectly cool and
detached and betrays no depression of spirits. The
journey had been pretty tiresome, but during a month
with Mr Pavillard he had been treated with the greatest
civility imaginable. Everyone did his best to make the
town agreeable to strangers. Among these were several
Englishmen, including his school friend Lord Hunting-
tower, and he had been introduced to the Earl of Bless-
ington and his family. He had also followed up an in-
troduction given to him by his father to Mme de Brisson6,
whom he found 'an extremely agreeable woman'. He
complains about nothing and asks for nothing. He begs
his sincere compliments to his cousin Miss Elliston, and
ends 'I am, dear sir, with the greatest respect and sin-
cerity your most obedient and most dutiful son'.

Gibbon was evidently not quite so lonely as he subse-
quently made out. But in other respects this letter only
masks the real position, which can be discerned from
Pavillard's letters and accounts. 2 The worst aspects of it

1 Gibbon's friend Deyverdun bears him out independently in his diary, i4th
July 1754, quoted by Meredith Read, ii. jp. 303. He calls her Carbonella, and
gives her as one of the reasons for not seeing Pavillard more often.

* The letters are in Add. MSS. 34887. Some of the accounts are there too,
and some in the Magd. Coll. Papers. The letters were printed, with omissions,
as footnotes by Lord Sheffield.

4 8

NO. 16 RUE CIT-DERRIRE

must be attributed to Gibbon's father, who having dis-
covered that generosity did not pay, swung over to the
other extreme. If Gibbon found himself half-starved
and frozen, and revolted by Madame Pavillard's little
meannesses, the unchanged table linen, the too familiar
joints, it was because his father was not paying more
than four pounds a month for him, 1 and Madame Pavil-
lard was entitled to make a profit if she could. To begin
with Gibbon had asked for, and obtained, about two
guineas a month for pocket money, and had assured
Pavillard that his father would give him as much or
more. But it was too much, and after letters had come
from home he was cut down to a guinea a month for
September and October to even up. Naturally in such a
state he was not allowed a personal servant, a depriva-
tion which hit him particularly hard, for he was always
rather clumsy and helpless. But more inhuman per-
haps, and certainly more petty, is the fact that his father
objected to the summer coat which Pavillard had had
made. The minister has to plead that it was of camelot
de Bruxelles, a cheap material, that Mr Frey had advised
it, and anyhow it was made now.

Pavillard comes out of a difficult task remarkably well.
He deserved the respect and affection which he earned
from Gibbon. He had frequently to act first and make
the best of contradictory instructions afterwards. He
was constantly on the defensive. Even four years later
we find him explaining that he has had six handkerchiefs
made because Gibbon had lost some. He stood up for
Gibbon against his father's desire that the boy should
not be allowed to go out much, arguing very sensibly
that if he was compelled to brood by himself without
any diversions, he would become still more attached to

1 This, in fairness it must be said, is what Pavillard himself asked. But it is
clear that Mr Gibbon expected all expenses to be at the minimum. This did
not include heating: 60 byres or francs a month* Uvre= about is. 3jd. .

49 >

EDWARD GIBBON

his views, and would be less likely to listen to Pavillard's
reasoning. In this connexion too he probably scared Mr
Gibbon shrewdly by telling him, as an example of what
could be brought about by solitude, that his son had de-
clared for the Pretender, and showed how artfully he had
met his views without appearing to be too combative.

Here, at last, was a man who was prepared to take
pains to understand a pupil and could discern unusual
qualities in the 'thin little figure with a large head dis-
puting and urging with the greatest ability, all the best
arguments that had ever been used in favour of Popery'.
Gibbon responded by earning the epithets, doux> tran-
quille et strieux. He was not slow to recognise that at
last he had opportunities such as he had long hoped for
and never found. Pavillard was not a man of out-
standing gifts, but he was well enough equipped for
teaching and had had plenty of experience. Above all
he was not likely to fall into Mallet's error of scan-
dalising a young mind by an unceremonious introduc-
tion of unpalatable ideas.

Mr Gibbon was quite possibly anxious to get early
news of his son's second conversion. Pavillard was not
going to be hurried. He allowed his pupil to settle down
and excused himself, rightly enough, for not opening
the debate on account of their common shortcomings in
languages. Later he left two controversial books lying
about, and saw Gibbon take them away to read in his
own room. Meanwhile he propounded a plan for
general reading in the mornings, French and Latin,
modern history and geography. After 'some youthful
sallies' Gibbon surrendered with pleasure to the
methodical programme, and in a short time was pur-
suing the road on his own. Equipped by a study of
logic he was able to follow, a,nd dispute step by step,
Pavillard's exposition of his errors. In after years he did
not grudge his tutor his share in the matter, but claimed

5

NO. 16 RUE CIT-DERRIRE

that his conversion was chiefly effected by his private
reflections, and he remembered his 'solitary transport'
on discovering an argument against the doctrine of
transubstantiation. The text of scripture which seemed
to inculcate the real presence was 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. Gibbon calls this a philosophical argu-
ment. He had perhaps forgotten that Bossuet had al-
ready met it so far as disputants can meet across an
unbridgeable gulf. 1 In truth it was not philosophy but
weariness of what was seen to be nonsense. From this
point indeed 'the various articles of the Romish creed
disappeared like a dream*.

It is natural that Pavillard should represent the pro-
cess as more protracted. Writing to Mr Gibbon in
June 1 754, he says that he has been hoping week by
week to announce his pupil's complete renunciation of
his false ideas. But the ground had been fought over
step by step. He had judged it wise not to push Gibbon
into a corner and extort au avowal. Pavillard had
thought that when the principal tenets of Romanism
were disposed of, the rest would follow. In this he was
mistaken. Every article had to be taken on its own
merits. Finally it could be affirmed that Gibbon was no
longer a member of the Church of Rome although he
still clung to some remnants of his beliefs. He had
shown steadfastness in his tenets, but was open to
reason and never captious. He had surprised Pavillard
by an unexpected resumption of fasting on Fridays
some time after he had admitted that the Roman Church
was not infallible. It was a last gesture of adherence to
the faith he had chosen for himself.

i Quoique les choses paroisaent toujours les m6mes a nos sens, notre ime en
juge autrement qu'elle ne feroit si une autorite* suprieure n'toit pas inter-
venue. Bossuet, Exposition. (Euvrfs (1816), zviii. 126.

51

EDWARD GIBBON

At last, In December 1754, he was judged worthy to
be readmitted into a Protestant congregation. Unlike
the Oxford dons. La Vnrable Compagnie Pastorale de
Lausanne knew the value of making the occasion im-
pressive.

Gibbon appeared before the Company on 22nd
December, and made an acknowledgment of his errors,
and to testify his gratitude to Heaven asked to be
readmitted to communion in the Protestant Church.
He then withdrew, and Pavillard vouched for the reality
of his conversion and also the purity of his feelings and
his unexceptionable morals. The meeting thereupon
charged Monsieur le grand Ministre Polier de Bottens
to examine Gibbon. On loth February 1755, the Com-
pany met again when M. Polier de Bottens reported
that he had seen M. Gibbon and had been *trs 6di&6 et
satisfait'. Pavillard reported at the same time that after
M. de Bottens' examination he had admitted M. Gibbon
to communion on Christmas Day. 1 'It was here',
says Gibbon, 'that I suspended my religious inquiries,
acquiescing with implicit belief in the tenets and
mysteries which are adopted by the general consent of
Catholics and Protestants.'

There is no reason to suppose that these words are not
to be taken literally. Gibbon has suffered from his
friends as well as from his detractors, each side wishing
to depict him as a child of light on the one hand free
from any superstitious blots, or an imp of darkness with
no redeeming piety on the other, according to their re-
spective prejudices. But to assume that Gibbon was a
complete sceptic from the time of his reconversion is to
falsify both biography and history.

Those who abandoned the Biblical cosmogony in the

* H. Vuilleumier, Histoire de fSglise Rcjbrme'e du Pays de Food, iy. 364-5,
and Actes de la Ven. Comp. pastorale, 22 de"c, 1754, 10 feV. 175*. Polier de
Bottens was Mme de Montoheu's father. He was a friend, of Voltaire.

No. 16 RUE CIT-DERRliRE

middle of the eighteenth century were in very different
plight from those who cannot accept it at the present
day. Not merely the weight of tradition but the inse-
cure status of natural science created a presumption in
favour of the inspired text. In the absence of obvious
alternatives it had to be abandoned with caution.

These adventures had not touched the central and
common core of revealed religion. They had turned
on questions of historical and theological interpretation
lying almost entirely outside the Bible. Gibbon believed
in the bulk of traditional religion implicitly because he
had not yet examined it critically. *I was still the slave
of education and prejudice', he says in reference to his
correspondence with Allamand, 'he had some measures
to keep ; and I much suspect that he never showed me
the true colours of his secret scepticism.' *

From theological speculation he turned to survey in
Giannone's Civil History of Naples the baleful conse-
quences of priestly power. Giannone is coupled with
Pascal in one of the memoirs as having first accustomed
Gibbon 'to the use of irony and criticism on subjects of
ecclesiastical gravity'. 2 A third book read at this time,
a life of the Emperor Julian, was not the least influential.
Gibbon found a new field of history and took his stand
by the last of the pagan emperors looking back wistfully
into the disappearing world of the ancients.

Meanwhile it was with unfeigned, if not very pro-
found, joy that he wrote to his aunt to announce his
recovery from the Popish malady. 'I am now good
Protestant', he writes in an English that was already full
of foreign idiom, 'and am extremely glad of it' But is

1 Murray, p. 146. Henri Vuilleumier, the historian of the Reformed Church
in the Pays de Vaud, indignantly rebuts Gibbon's insinuation of Aflamand's
scepticism. But AJlamand was at least, like a number of Swiss clergy, in
correspondence with Voltaire. There was at any rate a pleasing absence of
theological zeal in the Pays de Vaud at this time.

2 Murray, p. 235.

53

EDWARD GIBBON

there a first flicker of irony when he goes on to say that
after all the storm and upheaval and this long and mo-
mentous debate, of which, apparently, he had kept her
informed, his last difficulty was whether a member of
the Church of England should join in communion with
Presbyterians. He could scarcely resolve to do so. But
he did and all was well, and M. Pavillard, good man,
appeared extremely glad of it. Gibbon assured his aunt
that he felt 'a joy extremely pure, and the more so, as I
know it to be not only innocent but laudable'. It would
seem that the young proselyte had only to claim his tem-
poral reward, more money and liberty, if not deliver-
ance from his dependent state. But this remarkable
letter goes on to relate how he had put the fruits of his
conversion in jeopardy by his incautious behaviour.

In the first flush of his elation, and indulged perhaps by
Pavillard in the increased liberty which his father was
expected to sanction, Gibbon went out one evening to
visit an Englishman. Mr Gee was conducting a faro
party in his room. Gibbon would have gone away but
was prevailed upon at least to take a chair by the fire.
The inevitable happened. One of the players left, and
the youth was asked to take his place. He refused.
They told him he could play as low as he lik^d. Gibbon
tried his luck and lost half a guinea. This tduched him
up and he warmed to the work. They all warmed to it
and by 'about three o'clock the next mornini I found I
had lost only forty guineas'. Again a flicker, {a very rue-
ful flicker, of irony. He had lost twenty months' pocket
money. He could never pay it. He dare nojt tell any-
one. Unhinged by fear he chose the worst COM
would show them he was a man and deman\
venge. He rose from the table at last he doc
at what hour in debt for 1760 francs or 1 10

In that black January dawn he was a prey to a *
of feeling he had never known. A debt of 1 10

54

NO. 16 RUE CIT-DERRIERE

What were the differences of Papist and Protestant to
this? The money must be found, it would have to be
borrowed, and London would be the only place where
he could command credit for such a sum. His father's
anger would be kindled all over again. He would risk
that rather than default over a debt of honour.

He saw Gee again. That scamp now sold him a horse,
a watch and other things which were to be paid for
with the rest of the debt in England. Gibbon escaped
from Pavillard's house and set off in the middle of the
Swiss winter. He rode as far as Geneva. Imagine him
there vainly trying to sell the horse. A day or two was
thus lost and Pavillard found him there and, 'half en-
treaties, half force', carried him back to Lausanne. Time
was running on. He had till I5th March to find the
money. He turned to his aunt as a last resource.

'Tell me not you are poor,* he wrote in his frenzy, 'that you
have not enough for yourself. I do not address myself to you as
the richest but as the kindest of my relations; nor do I ask it
you as a gift, but as a loan. If you could not furnish me the
whole sum let me have at least a part of it. I know you have
thoughts of doing something for me by your will 5 I beg you
only to anticipate it.'

He begged for a speedy reply. He was too agitated to
say more.

Pavillard had already written a much less alarming
letter which Gibbon had translated. 1 In it, after an-
nouncing that his pupil had communicated Christmas
Day last with devotion, and after dilating upon his own
tactics, he says that Gibbon's behaviour has been very
regular and there have been no slips 'except that of
gaming twice and losing much more than I desired*.
Pavillard appeals to Miss Porten to reinstate her nephew
in favour, and as his father has allowed him but the bare

1 Add. MSS. 34887. It is probably in Gibbon's hand a boyish best-
behaviour fist. It is certainly not Pavillard's.

55

EDWARD GIBBON

necessities he asks her for 'some tokens of satisfaction',
assuring her that they will be employed well and under
his direction since Gibbon has promised never to play
any more games of chance. A conflicting and agitating
couple of letters for an aunt to receive. She showed
them to her brother-in-law.

What Mr Gibbon did we do not know since there is
silence on the subject until the following September.
In a letter to his father of ist March, Gibbon pleads
rather pathetically for a restoration to favour and for
lessons in riding, fencing and dancing (some of which
he had already had) but makes no mention of the
escapade, no doubt because he had not yet had his
aunt's answer to his appeal. In his letter to his aunt of
2oth September, he gives the sequel to the tale and a
rather different aspect of it.

Gee, about whose subsequent discreditable career in
France Gibbon appears remarkably well informed, had
been compelled to take back the mare and the watch,
and Gibbon's debt to him was fixed at fifty guineas. In
addition he had had to buy Gee another watch for
twenty guineas, for which he was paying the watch-
maker two guineas a month by means of cutting down
other expenses. 1 A great part of his losses had not been
to Gee but to someone of Lausanne who had heard
reason easily enough. Does that mean that he had
excused the boy the debt, as he well might, though such

1 The bill for this watch is preserved, Magd. ColL Papers. It is dated zoth
May 1755, but was not finally settled till 1 6th July 1758, after Gibbon had
left Lausanne. The watch cost 320 francs and the bill agrees for a monthly
payment of 12 francs; that is, rather less than i. In fact, payments of vary-
ing amounts were made from Hme to time. From 1755 onwards Gibbon
appears to have been receiving 24 francs a month. This was paid in two
instalments and he frequently received small advances. 24 francs of the bill
were paid off in July 1755, an ^ ** appears that this was found by Gibbon's
only receiving 12 francs each for April and May. 72 francs were paid off in
March 1756, and again in October, but ft is not very clear that deductions
had been made from his pocket money. 107-8 were paid in October 1757,
and the balance, 44, in July 1758^

56

No. 16 RUE CITE-DERRIERE

a course was hardly consistent with Gibbon's pride.
And how was the fifty guineas paid to Gee? If Mr
Gibbon supplied the money there is no mention of the
fact.

It does not appear, as one might expect after this
crisis, that Gibbon enjoyed any greater liberty or luxury.
But he seems to have rubbed along not unhappily. His
father was known to be impulsive but careless. More-
over he was at a great distance and had to accept the
fait accompli as in the matter of dancing, fencing and
riding. 1 Pavillard continued to order or at least pay for
his clothes ; his shirts and handkerchiefs, his muffs and
muff-strings are all entered. We find too his medicine
bills, the hire of carriages to go to the comedy at Mon
Repos, his billiard parties, his gratuities to servants and
occasional charities to indigent Irishmen in the place.
And when at last in 1757 a servant -fras allowed, they
debited the bell with which Gibbon was to summon him.

He learned to walk a minuet but could not master the
intricacies of a country-dance. He had no ear for music.
He had drawing lessons but makes no comment on his
progress. He was slow and clumsy with the foil and
once fought a boyish quarrel with some loss of blood.
Of his riding he says that he finally withdrew 'without
an hope of being ever promoted to the use of stirrups
or spurs'. He was at any rate charged for them as well
as for switches. How did he get Mr Gee's mare to
Geneva? 2

But if he spent less money than the other Englishmen

1 The numtge bills are also preserved. Gibbon began lessons in August 1753,
two days before Pavillard wrote to Mr Gibbon asking for his permission.
He had lessons for nine months altogether, not five as he says; Murray, p. 236.
These bills were not sent in until 1757 and were settled by Pavillard, January
1758.

2 Gibbon was constantly on horseback in the Militia. Thereafter he seldom
rode. A malicious gossip of later years relates that he was gratified by a
description of himself as riding at Lausanne, although he was long past such
exercise. B. de Lalonde, Le Ltman ou voyage ptttorfsque, etc., i. pp. 277 sqq.

57

EDWARD GIBBON

in the place, he claimed to be the one most generally
liked. As his letters show, he had mastered French and
allows its idiom to invade his English. Within a year
of his arrival he had made friends with Georges Dey-
verdun. Deyverdun was a few years older than Gibbon.
He lived with his widowed aunt, Madame de Bochat,
in an old house called La Grotte, which stood on the
crest of the ridge which falls away down to Ouchy, com-
manding a view of the lake and the 'stupendous moun-
tains of the Savoy'. Here Deyverdun was occupied
in arranging his uncle's papers, a historian of some
distinction. He was fairly intimate with Pavillard,
and would have been at his house oftener but for the
minister's many engagements and Deyverdun's dislike
of Mme Pavillard already mentioned. Gibbon's friend-
ship with Deyverdun grew steadily and in 1 7 56 we find
him lending him sixteen francs, an act which perhaps
argues a greater intimacy for those days than it would
now.

Ten to twelve hours' reading a day was another and
even greater source of satisfaction. The burden of
religious controversy was removed; Latin as well as
French had been mastered, and Gibbon was reading
deeply and with increasing method in both languages,
making Very large collections' as he went. He had
begun Greek, and it is to this year in his Journal that
he assigns the study of de Crousaz's logic, which formed
his mind to a habit of thinking and reasoning he had no
idea of before. 1 Altogether his condition was improving
and his spirits were further raised by a Vastly kind
letter' received from his father at the beginning of
September. 2

In this all his past faults were forgiven and were never
to be mentioned again, provided Gibbon behaved him-

1 Gibbon's Journal, p. 5.

* The letter -was dated i8th August and was about a fortnight on the way.

58

No. 16 RUE CITE-DERRI&RE

self. He was to be allowed to make the tour of Switzer-
land (which he lost no time in doing solemnly in a
coach accompanied by Pavillard), and when his studies
were completed he was to travel in France and Italy. A
charming prospect. But amid this outburst of returning
favour there was not a word of a most agitating event
of which a tantalising inkling arrived three days later in
a letter from a Hampshire neighbour.

Mr Gibbon had married again. But when? where?
whom? Mr Hugonin did not say. Later, no doubt
from his aunt, news came that the new wife was Miss
Dorothea Patton, the lady who had had Dr. Ward
called in when he was so ill during his Westminster
days. They were married on 8th May. It was most dis-
turbing news. There might be children 'of the second
bed' and in that case he might be left with only ^200 a
year. That was his impression of his grandfather's will.
He had written for a copy of it out of Doctors' Com-
mons. But 'Could *<?/ do it TOURSELF? 9 he wrote
emphatically and disjointedly to Dear Kitty. 1

Unsettled by this news he passed on to criticise his
father's plans for himself. He was not anxious to go at
once on his grand tour. *I never liked young travellers/
(he was himself at once so young and so old) ; '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.' He would prefer to spend another winter
in Lausanne, return to England and finish his studies
either at Cambridge or at a university in Holland. He
urged his aunt to get his scheme put before his father *fy
Metcalf or somebody else who has a certain credit over him\

This letter and perhaps others from him were shown
by Miss Porten to his rather, and eventually drew from
him an unfeeling reply which deserves to be printed.

1 'Could you not do it?* Prothtro i. p. 8. The 'you* is omitted in the original,
Add. MSS. 34883.

59

EDWARD GIBBON

'SiR,

*I received your letter with your Journal and I have since
paid a bill for the Expences of your Tour amounting to 35 louis.
I have never grudged you any reasonable expences, notwithstand-
ing the many unjust and undutiful things you have said of me
to the contrary. The news that you heard of my being married
again is very true, it is to a Laay that saved your life at West-
minster by recommending Dr. Ward when you was given over
by the regular Physicians; but if you behave as you ought to do,
it shall not make any difference to you.

*I am very sorry to hear of the many complaints you make to
your Aunt, of the pkce where you are, and make none, but you
may as well make yourself easy for I am determined you shall
stay abroad at least two years longer. I desire to know what
proficiency you make in your studies as well as your exercises,
and if you have begun Algebra which I so much recommended
to you.

Are you thoroughly sensible of the Errors of the Romish
Church which you rashly embraced and destroyed all my plan
of Education I had laid for you at Oxford; your scheme of
coining over and going to Cambridge I can by no means approve
of now, and if you would but give yourself leave to think about
it, you will easily see the impropriety of it. I think upon all
accounts you are [much] * better where you are but if you
behave as you ought to do, let you be where you will, you may
be assured not only of my Affection, but my doing everything
for you, that you yourself can desire.

'E. G.
*BERITON, 24 Dec r I755-' 2

Gibbon evidently believed in the power of a soft
answer, and composed a masterpiece of tactful concilia-
tion. 3 Not the least effective stroke was choosing to
write in French, thus gaining an initial superiority of
which his father could not complain, and enabling him-

1 Paper destroyed here.

2 A kind-hearted reader may exclaim, 'Fancy writing a letter like that to
his son on Christmas Evel* But Gibbon's correspondence alone shows that
little attention and no sentiment attached to Christmas in his day and society.

3 It is letter No. 5 in Prothero i. p. 9. It is incorrectly dated there as *io iuin'.
The MS. has '10 janv.' Add. MSS. 34886.

60

No. 16 RUE CITfi-DERRlfcRE

self, I think, to convey a sense of reproof with less risk
of offence than English might have entailed.

'Mon trs cher P6re', he begins imperturbably, 'je
re9us hier votre lettre avec beaucoup de plaisir, mais qui
ne fut pas tout--fait sans melange d' Inquietude/ He
was afraid he had given new offence. A lively and
sincere affection was apt to take alarm over trifles, and
so he could not but be struck on opening the letter to
find the usual 'Dear Edward chang en un froid
Monsieur'. 1 Having thus gently put his father in the
wrong he insists on seeing in the unkind letter nothing
but evidences of paternal solicitude, and assures him
that he will always be worthy of it. He assures him that
he is prepared to love his stepmother in advance. The
rest of the letter is devoted to an account of his progress.
But he ends with an effective stroke. His father had
recommended Locke to him. Very well. Locke held
definite opinions about the inadvisability of travelling
too young. Gibbon was determined not to go to Italy
before he was prepared.

He did not write again apparently until October. This
is a remarkable letter foreshadowing the grand Gibbon
in several ways :

'MONSIEUR MON TRS CHER

*Comme un terns assez considerable s'est &ou!6 depuis ma
derniere lettre, je ne puis pas me dispenser plus longtems de vous
rt6rer les assurances de mon respect et de mon affection, et de
demander toujours la continuation de votre Tendresse.

*Ma sant6 va toujours bien et il me paroit que Pair de ce pays
convient assez bien . mon temperament qui semble s'tre sens-
iblement fortifi6 depuis que j'ai quitt ma Patrie. Mes Etudes
vont leur petit train. La derniere foisque jeVous 6crivis, j'avois (
cequeje crois)commenc6Tacite. JePai achev6 heureusement
sans m&ne qu'il m'ait donn6 beaucoup pres autant de peine
que je m'attendois y trouver. Des Ik j'ai lu Suetone, Quinte-

1 1 believe there is no letter extant in which he is either addressed or referred
to as Edward. It is always Gibbon or Mr Gibbon or the Gibbon.

61

EDWARD GIBBON

Curce, Justin et Flore qui a fait la cl&ture de ma Classe d'his-
toriens. J'ai depuis commence* celle des Pofetes par Plaute le

. * J: . .

voulant voir que le beau Sifecle des Lettres et de la langue des
Remains, leur enfance aussi bien que leur Vieillesse auroient
e*te* pour moi des hors d'GEuvres, peut tre m6me pernicieux.
J'ai eu grand soin d'accompagner ces lectures par celle d'un
grand nombre d'articles du Lexicon des Antiquites Romaines du
clfebre Pitiscus, et je me suis mfcme hazarde* a faire de terns en

et je

terns quelques remarques de Critique lesquelles ont quelquefois
eu le bonheur de plaire aux personnes a qui je les ai montre*. J'ai
tache* autant que j'ai pu de saisir le caractere distinctif de mes
auteurs diflterens. Cependant je suis bien sensible que ce n'est
pas Pafiaire d'une premiere lecture. Ce sera beaucoup si j'ai pu
atraper celui de leur Stecle et de leur pays; car chaque pays et
chaque sifede en ont certainement un, et celui de tout Ecnvain
qui y vit ne peut 6viter de s'y plier jusqu'a un certain point.
Pour mon Grec je vous dirai qu'apres avoir lu assez facilement
les deux premiers livres de Xenophon, j'ai attaque" le redoutable
Homfere et j'en suis actuellement au Second livre.

*Quelles nouvelles vous mander, Mon cher Pere, depuis un
Pays qui a Tavantage inestimable qu'on ne parle jamais de lui
dans le monde. On y est cependant fort Anglois, c'est a dire fort
Prussien, car a present ces deux terresparoissent assez synonimes.
En voici une cependant.' . . /

Here lie begins a report by someone from Spain about
the Spanish warships in the Mediterranean. The end is
lost, a quarter of the page having been torn off. He also
repeats his request in this fragment for an allowance of
200 a year and permission to have a valet.

'Tout ce que je ferai ici c'est de vous rappeller la requite m&ne
qui vous sera peut-tre sortie de la memoire.

'Apres avoir, mon tres cher pfere, dit quelques mots de ma
Situation et des mes fitudes il ne faut pas que je vous importune
plus longtemps. Permettez done qu'apres avoir assure* votre chere
Epouse des sentiments de respect et d'affection qu'elle a droit de

62

No. 16 RUE CIT2-DERRIERE

demanderde moi je me disc avec un d&rouement entier et une
tendresse toute fipreuve,

'Mon trfcs cher P&re,

'Votre trfe humble et trfes ob6issant
'Serviteur et Fils,

'E. GIBBON

*P.S. Pourrois-je vous rappeller ma Bibliothfeque Orientale
et les Cartes de P Am6rique. Les Voituriers Suisses doivent tre
actuellement k Londres/

There is an endorsement by Pavillard, but most of it
has been torn off. It is dated by him 'Lausanne, ce
3ome 8bre i*j$6\ l

Gibbon continued to woo his father with unflagging
diplomacy and urbanity for the next two years. There
were no more outbursts of wrath, only disheartening
silences. Amid his protestations of filial devotion he
kept on with his request to be allowed to come home.
But in vain. His father had said he was to remain two
years longer and kept to his word.

This remaining period was far from unhappy. His
satisfaction was centred in the progress of his studies.
In this respect he was now entirely independent of
tuition with the exception of his attendance on the
mathematician, Professor de Traytorrens. 2 By the time
he was twenty he had mastered classical Latin literature,
was writing critical dissertations and had entered into
correspondence with learned professors. To Greek he
was not paying so much attention, yet he had read a
considerable amount, including St. John's Gospel and
portions of Xenophon, Herodotus and the Iliad. In

* Add. MSS. 34883, f. 10.

a He began studying under Traytorrens in January 1757 (Journal, pp. 5-6).
In December 1756 he had been enrolled in the Academy. His autograph is
in the Album Academiae Lausanmensis, i. f. 240: 'Edwardus Gibbon Anglus
Kalendis Decembris (sic) 1756*. Among other names of about the same time
are Edward Moore, Earl of Drogheda, le Chevalier Davers, Savile Finch,
Roger Mostyn, Crofton Vandeleur and Alex. Cra madia*, the two last with
Lord Drogheda being described as Irish. Archives Cantonaks de Lausanne.

63

EDWARD GIBBON

this language he was still far behind what a Sixth Form
boy at Westminster might have accomplished, and in
Latin he was far from having attained the minutiae of
scholarship. On the other hand no boy and very few
undergraduates would have read so widely or with such
mastery of the subject.

Gibbon's scholarship, as he himself was well aware,
always remained somewhat rough-and-ready, massive
rather than delicate. It is easy to find him sadly at sea
with a Greek text, or advancing some ludicrous etymo-
logy. In part he suffered from his personal experience,
in part he is representative of his age. Philology was
still tentative and rash, full of easy guessing. It may
have been the age of Porson, but Porson was not of his
age. Gibbon's blunders in etymology are no worse than
the portentous Dr. Parr's. And Dr. Parr was accus-
tomed to boom out that Porson was the first Greek
scholar in England and Dr. Burney the third; he would
leave it to his listeners to say who was the second. 1

Gibbon was far from being a recluse. His chief link
with the outside world was his friendship with Georges
Deyverdun. They had worked together, though Dey-
verdun, an easy-going dilettante, had been unable to
sustain the English boy's pace. But over their Virgil
and Cicero had sprung up an intimacy which Gibbon
at any rate hoped would prove lifelong. 'Every idea,
every sentiment, was poured into each other's bosom;
and our schemes of ambition or retirement always ter-
minated in the prospect of our final and inseparable
union/ 2

Deyverdun belonged to the aristocratic Bourg section

1 People who make wild shots are often shrewd critics of similar flights in
other people. So Gibbon: cf. his etymological notes in The Decline and Folly
c. Iv. n. 25; Ivi. nn. 55, 77; and Ivii. n. 20. Parr somewhere explains a super-
lative like K<AAaTos thus: /cdtAAos+umjfu, fa. beautiful to the point of coming
to a stand, unable to achieve morel

a Murray, p. 238.

6 4

NO. 16 RUE CIT-DERRIRE

of Lausanne society, and through him and other sources
Gibbon's general acquaintance was increasing. His bil-
liard parties now figure in the accounts. 1 A valet had
become a necessity, and Pavillard acquiescing engaged
Francois for him and in the usual way justified the event
later to Mr Gibbon, reminding him that his son was now
a young man and should have more liberty. The re-
ports are invariably of the good use Gibbon made of his
time and money. There were no more Gee episodes. It
was, however, the appearance of the most famous and
agitating man in Europe in the quiet coteries of Laus-
anne that offered Gibbon his best opportunities of mix-
ing in general society and of making acquaintances,
some of which were lifelong.

The social scene \ipon which Voltaire and Gibbon
were now entering from opposite sides was set in a still
atmosphere of dependency and arrested development.
The Pays de Vaud formed part of the Canton of Berne,
and the bourgeois government of Berne had crystal-
lised into a closed oligarchy which governed with ex-
treme jealousy. Effective power in fact by this time was
concentrated in the hands of about ninety Bernese
families. Collectively they called themselves Le Prince \
more commonly they were known as Their Excellencies.
Outside their privileged circle these families viewed
with equal indifference the feudal aristocracy and the
common people. Neither class could aspire to any part
in affairs beyond municipal administration.

The rule of the Bernese was not severe. The taxes
were light. Provided no attempt was made to subvert
their supremacy they had no inclination to interfere.
Their subjects acquiesced in an arrangement that was
not uncomfortable. Major Davel's rising in 1723 had
failed through the apathy of the Lausannois who had
concurred in the execution of a man destined to be

1 They cost from to to 2,0 francs, *".*. 15 to 30 shillings a time.
65 , F

EDWARD GIBBON

revered as a national hero. From that date to 1791
Lausanne may be said to have had no history. In the
fifties everyone was anxious to forget that such a thing
had happened. The Bailli or governor from Berne who
resided in the ancient castle of the bishops a little above
the Cathedral, mixed without embarrassment in the
society of the town and there was, to a foreigner at
least, a pleasant appearance of contentment and toler-
ance.

A young man, however, might feel differently, and
in Lettre <Tun Suidois Gibbon composed a document
which Their Excellencies would have scarcely forgiven,
which the writer himself must have viewed with some
uneasiness some thirty- six years later, and which sub-
sequent historians of the Pays de Vaud have hailed as
a first raising of the banner of liberty in their midst.
There is no reason, however, to suppose that Gibbon
waved this banner anywhere except in the privacy of his
own rooms and perhaps in the presence of such a dis-
creet friend as Deyverdun. Yet the unfinished essay,
with its prudent pretence of coming from the hand of a
Swedish traveller, is a searching criticism of the evils
which the Bernese supremacy caused in spite of its
apparent mildness, and the writer intended, apparently,
to discuss how the yoke was to be removed. 1 Gibbon's
argument is the reverse of what he was to say in his last
years. Then, he said that 'while the aristocracy of Berne
protects the happiness, it is superfluous to enquire
whether it is founded in the rights of man'. The first

1 There can be little doubt tliat Sheffield was right in assigning this Lettre
to Gibbon's first residence in Lausanne. VuiHeumier, Histoire de rSgUse RJ-
form/e du Pays de Vaud, iii. 735, has some interesting remarks about it; he
evidently thinks with some other Swiss scholars that the letter was written in
Gibbon s second or even third residence. That seems very improbable. Its
appearance in 1706 made some impression among Vaudois patriots. Most of
it is reprinted in Henri Monod*s Memoires, 1805, i. 45-48. See also Eckuard
Gibbon tmd die SchweiK, by C. Schirmer, Festschrift zum 14 Neuphilologen-
tage in ZtSrich, 1910, p. 100.

66

No. 16 RUE CITS-DERRlfcRE

stroke of a rebel drum would be the signal of his
departure. His earlier theme, and it is one that is im-
plicit throughout all his writings, was that such happi-
ness was specious without the firm foundation of
political freedom, and he makes great play of the fact
that in spite of two hundred years of peace, a blessing
not easily to be despised, the subjects of Berne had not
made the progress in arts and science equal to that of
the surrounding nations who had been in a much more
backward position. Gibbon certainly had the facts on
his side when he drew attention to the somnolent
state of the three well marked divisions of Lausanne
society.

The Cit, the Palud and the Bourg were the districts
of Lausanne which at that time denoted classes rigidly
defined in theory, though there must always have been
individuals and families with a footing in more than one
circle.

In the Cit the central hill on which stood the
Cathedral, the buildings of the Acad&nie and the old
Bishops' castle were the homes of the ministers, pro-
fessors and others. One of the complaints made in the
Lettre d'un SuSdois is that the Acad&nie had not been
developed into a university owing to the jealousy of
Berne. Its life had not been without distinction and it
had had among its professors such men as de Crousaz,
familiar to English readers through his writings on
Pope, or Allamand, whose qualities Gibbon himself
praises warmly. Less narrow and austere than the
Genevan clergy, the Lausanne ministers were scholarly
and tolerant men, but devoid of ideas or incentives. By
the time he was eighteen Gibbon was anxious to find a
more stimulating atmosphere.

Below the Cathedral one descends still by the ancient
covered stairways lies the Palud with the picturesque
Town Hall of the seventeenth century as its centre.

EDWARD GIBBON

This was the quarter of business and banking. Its
richer members had connexions in the Bourg above
them. Here again, however, there was stagnation and
little scope for enterprise. After the revocation of the
Edict of Nantes numbers of valuable French craftsmen
had sought refuge here. But the government had failed
to encourage them to stay and the best had gone on to
other countries.

It was in the fashionable quarter of the Bourg that the
chill hand of a despotic government was most felt. The
rue de Bourg runs along the crest of a ridge that lies like
a wall parallel to the lake. At its eastern end the street
begins to climb inland on the way to Berne. Towards
the west it comes out by the church of St. Francois, and
beyond lies the rue Grand Chfene mounting to the
wooded promenade of Montbenon. The street has long
since exchanged its noble residents for fashionable
shops, and but few of the old well-proportioned houses
remain which once stretched its whole length. On the
lakeward side they backed on to gardens which ran
down across what is now the avenue Benjamin Constant.
Below again rustic lanes led to Ouchy, passing country
houses and the chaumibres where some of the fashionable
ladies occasionally sought the simple life, a faint reflec-
tion of Parisian whims. But gardens and lodges were
subsidiary and we are told that the best rooms of these
houses looked out on the rue du Bourg, interest con-
centrated on the passing of neighbours, the morning
interchange of notes fixing the mild festivities of the day,
and on the coming and going of important foreigners at
the Lyon d'Or opposite.

Some of these families lived here only in the winter.
Others had sold their estates in the country, often to
French arrivals who had made money in the speculative
era of John Law, and had come to live the social round
year in year out in the town.

68

No. 16 RUE CITfi-DERRIERE

If the men had no estates to look after they had
nothing. There was no public career for them, and what
scope there was for the learned professions lay in the
hands of the Cit& Nor was there much prospect abroad.
Some young men like Deyverdun became tutors to
German princes or dukes. More entered the service of
Holland or France. But these outlets were strictly con-
trolled from Berne, and according to the Lettre^ d*un
Suedois we learn that the service of France was ruinous
to a young man and barely paid the seniors. The most
enterprising found their way to India. Such an idle
society might be expected to be vicious. In fact it was
not so. Only rather insipid and sterile. Great interest
was evinced in art and letters but little was produced.
Literary coteries were formed. Verses were read and
innocently intriguing problems of psychology were dis-
cussed. Could there be real friendship between a man
and a woman for instance? For the rest, there were
picnics in the summer and strolls on Montbenon, parties
afternoon and evening in the winter. Cards and coffee,
coffee and cards, and an occasional romp at Blindman's
Buff. Thirty or forty people would meet in the after-
noon and play till six o'clock, they would then pass on
to another house for supper about seven, and spend the
evening with cards once more and dancing. 'Nos pfcres
en 6taient reduits s'amuser comme des enfants.' x

From his confinement in the Cit, Gibbon made his
entry into this happy circle of families gladly enough.
He never lost his zest for its amusements. By the end
of his first stay in Lausanne he was known and liked
and could go to parties any evening he chose. This was
his privilege as a foreigner of position, for his hosts and
other acquaintances in the Cit would have but an un-
certain footing in the Bourg. Gibbon availed himself of
it more than most young Englishmen, who would find

* See C. Burnier, La Vie vaudoisc et la Revolution, 1902.

69

EDWARD GIBBON

the language still a barrier, or whose notion of pleasure
was more boisterous.

Into this perpetual Christmas party came the most
famous man in Europe. Gibbon says that Voltaire re-
fined the manners of Lausanne in a visible degree. Swiss
historians have said that he exercised no permanent
influence. Nor had Voltaire come to improve or to ruffle
the placid waters. Foremost among those who had in-
vited Voltaire to the shores of Lake Leman was Gibbon's
catechiser, Polier de Bottens, *un prfitre h6rtique de mes
amis, savant et philosophe', a contributor to the En-
cycloptdie. Voltaire delighted in the free and detached
atmosphere of the place, where they could pity those
who were cutting one another's throats in Europe for
the sake of a few acres of ice in Canada.

'C'est une belle chose que la tranquillity ! Oui, mais
1 'ennui est de sa connaissance et de sa famille.' The most
innocent remedy was a theatre, one which was bound to
appear wherever Voltaire was, and Voltaire's chief re-
'putation during most of his life was as a dramatist. He
had but to suggest, to find eagerness and talent as well

A theatre was fitted up, a cast formed, and a select audi-
ence was at hand to fill the two hundred seats. 1

The coaches ambled down the steep streets. The guests
assembled. The candles twinkled and the fiddles pre-
luded. M. de Guybon sat among the lite of Lausanne,
c un parterre trs bien choisi', and M. de Voltaire on the
stage appeared as old Lusignan in Zaire and declaimed
with 'the pomp and cadence of the old stage'. Be that
as it may, the bonhomme Lusignan, according to him-
self, drew tears from all the Swiss eyes. There was
nothing like a Swiss audience apparently; they were al-
ways ready to weep. The acting was as good and better
than that of Paris. Mme Denis had not such fine eyes

1 This was at Mon Repos, a country house at the eastern end of the town
belonging to a Frenchman, de Gentils.

70

No. 16 RUE CIT2-DERRI&RE

as la Caussin, but she played Zaire better. Voltaire's
letters breathe the very spirit of amateur theatricals.

'The parts of the young and fair were distorted by his
fat and ugly niece', was Gibbon's recollection in after-
years. 1 But that was after he had had experience of 'our
admirable Pritchard' and many others. Now he was
enjoying himself and was a conspicuous follower of the
company. One would like to know if Voltaire drew
tears from him too. In any case these performances
the first probably that he had seen exercised a great
influence on his taste. His preference was always for
the French theatre. Zaire remained a particular favour-
ite to the end of his life and had some curious associa-
tions for him.

After the play the supper. Dainties such as 'gelinottes
et coqs de bruyre et truites de vingt livres'. For Vol-
taire was rich and liked to do his guests well and was
tempted himself to brave indigestion on these occasions.
The young Englishman was sometimes asked to join
the actors at these feasts. He had been presented at
some time to the great man, who received him with
appropriate civility. 2 That was all. What more could
Voltaire do? All Lausanne had flocked to Monrion on
his arrival, and there were always so many young Eng-
lishmen and young Scotchmen too, even more per-
sistent, who were bent on seeing him, well or ill, alive or
even dead. But the notice of one's host in these merry
evenings did not matter a great deal perhaps. In this

1 Murray, p. 149. Gibbon might have spared his sneer at Voltaire for being
reluctant to play the Ipkigtnie of Racine. The play was, in fact* a new one
called Iphigtnie dans Tauride. Voltaire did not think much of it but put it
on out of good nature. See his letters for 175% passim.

a This was probably in December 1755, w ^ en Voltaire first resided at
Monrion. Gibbon claims to have been the means of divulging Voltaire's
poem on Lake Leman, to Voltaire's annoyance. Voltaire refers to the un-
authorised publication of this poem in June 1755. He does not appear to be
annoyed about it. See his letters to Polier de Bottens, 4th June, and to Ckvel
de Breaks, 6th June 1755.

71

EDWARD GIBBON

gay entry into general society, with heightened emo-
tions produced by the plays, and amid the chatter of the'
delighted and delightful actresses, it would not be sur-
prising if the young man fell in love. He did; but not
with one of the ladies of the Bourg.

72

Chapter 6

SUZANNE CURCHOD

HE story of Gibbon's love has been told many times ;

JL by himself in unforgettable phrases which have
been turned against him, by others who have seldom
been impartial, some straining to fit the tale to their
previous conceptions of his character, others falling into
the equal error of attacking the girl. Brilliant wits have
been exercised on the theme before half the evidence
came to light. The story has never been told by the aid
of all the available documents. 1

All the world knows that Suzanne Curchod was fair
and blue-eyed, that she was vivacious, clever and even
learned. She was the only child of a country minister,
who had taught her what he would have taught a son.
'She could write letters in Latin which her admirers ac-
claimed as Ciceronian. She knew a little Greek and per-
haps some English. But she* was no blue-stocking. She
could play the clavecin and the tympanon and she could
draw. And everyone agreed that she was as good as she
was charming and accomplished.

Her home, Grassy, lies about twelve miles from Geneva

1 Quotations in English from the correspondence between Gibbon and Mile
Curchod are translated from the original French. The series of twelve letters
exchanged in 1757-9 will be found in Gibbon's Journal) Appendix I.

Other useful authorities are P. Kohler's Madame de Statl et la Suisse, pp. 6
sqq.$ d'Haussonville's Le Salon de Madame Necker, imperfectly documented,
however, and strongly against Gibbon; also Meredith Read, and J. M.
Robertson's Gibbon, and Gibbon's Journal, pp. kiv, sqq.

73

EDWARD GIBBON

but just inside the Pays de Vaud, not, as Gibbon
says, 'in the mountains' but on the sunny and fertile
slopes which rise from the lake behind Rolle. She had
been baptized there on 2nd June 1737, and had, known
no other home. Her father belonged to the country,
but her mother was the daughter of a French refugee.
She had some interest in property at Mont^limar, and
her maiden name, Albert de Nasse, indicates a claim to
nobility, over which nevertheless some doubt has been
cast. She is said, however, to have preferred to throw
in her lot with the obscure man she loved rather than
aim at a higher position to which her qualities would
have entitled her. She passed some pride of family on
to her daughter, who at different times of her life signed
herself de Nasse or de Nasse-Necker, and is also said to
have tried to establish the nobility of her father's family.

Such a prodigy could not be kept hid or confined to
a country village. It was Curchod's practice to obtain
assistance and variety in his work by inviting theologi-
cal students from Lausanne or Geneva, a duty which the
young men- accepted the more willingly when the fame
of the pretty daughter spread. Still more delightful was
it when the daughter was entrusted with arranging the
visits. Letters had to be exchanged, and thanks for the
loan of the minister's horse were mingled with gallant
compliments. Some verses even strayed into the maga-
zines. Mile Curchod had had a taste of coquetry be-
fore she came to Lausanne.

Solid facts are wanting for her coming there. We do
not know whether she made occasional visits or pro-
longed stays or with whom she was living. Nor do we
know when it was. Perhaps in 1756; more probably, I
think, in 1757, when Gibbon saw her for the first time.
It seems unlikely that she can have been there long
without being noticed. For she was soon seen every-
where with admirers, and people said Toilk la belle

74

SUZANNE CURCHOD

Curdicd' as she passed with her escort, A professor
singled her out as an example to all, and students
pressed for the honour of dancing with her. She be-
longed of course to the Cit> and it is unlikely that she
appeared among the young people of the Bourg at
Voltaire's theatre. 1 But in her own realm she reigned
supreme. She either founded or ruled a society called
L'Acad&nie des Eaux or de la Poudrire which met in
the valley of the Flon a sadly tarnished quarter now,
but then a pretty sylvan scene which came up to the
walls of the Cit6 beneath the windows of the Bailli's
castle. The members called each other by high-flown
names and debated with wit and sentiment, and Mile
Curchod, it is said, would be set on a throne of turf with
her Celadons and Sylvandres around. Prominent among
these was Deyverdun, who though belonging to the
Bourg was a frequenter of the Cit6, and through him,
perhaps, Gibbon was brought on the scene. He fell an
immediate and complete victim.

Some play has been made with the fact that thre refer-
ences to Suzanne in his Journal are scanty and terse and
do not stand out from entries concerning M. de Tray-
torrens on conic sections or long dissertations on Virgil.
This Journal, however, was not begun till 1761, and
when Gibbon made these retrospective records his
feelings, whatever they were, were very different from
his state of mind in the summer of 1757. Even so, his
first entry is eloquent in its brevity: 'June. I saw Made-
moiselle Curchod. Omnia mndt amor et nos cedamus
amori? It was true. In August he was staying at Crassy.
He was there again in October. He saw her at Rolle in
November and spent six days at her home again in the

1 Though not impossible, of course. But as an example of the rigidity -with
which these distinctions were maintained it may be remarked that a genera-
tion later Rosalie de Constant, an aunt of Benjamin, referred to Mme de
Stael as 'cette parvenue*.

75

EDWARD GIBBON

same month. In the following year he paid a last visit
there at the beginning of March. He left for England
on i ith April. This was not bad for one whose move-
ments and expenses had been so carefully controlled for
four years. And all the while never a word home either
from Gibbon or Pavillard, Only from Gibbon a brief
account of his visit to Geneva, a place omitted on his
previous tour. A company of French actors were there,
and it was natural to take the opportunity of passing
through Grassy on the way. But he did not mention
that.

Fuel which had not been spent on other affections was
added to the consuming rapture of first love. Gibbon's
attempts to placate and win his father cannot be con-
sidered as merely cupboard love. That would be against
all common sense and experience. There is much to
show that at all times or his life, in spite of many
exasperations. Gibbon was genuinely fond of his father.
But now his advances had been rejected, his letters were
often unanswered; he had been made to suffer severely
for an act which was not discreditable, however foolish.

At such a juncture this enchanting being appeared.
Gibbon fell and began to weave an imaginary future
with her. He forgot any calls of duty or ambition at
home. His family did not seem to want him. He knew
his own mind. He was committed for life to scholar-
ship. He and she would lead a modest career in this
land where, as Voltaire said, the refinement of Athens
was linked with the frugality of Sparta, where there were
no wars or politics or scrambling for places. 1 There was
Deyverdun too; Gibbon's ties seemed to be all in the
town which he had at first thought so ugly. 2 His in-
fatuation is said to have gone beyond ordinary bounds.

1 This is the impression from Gibbon's letters to S. C,
* Perhaps he thought it was ugly stilL Voltaire said it was a 'tres vilaine
ville'. Gibbon always thought Lausanne was Very plain*. See below, p. 309.

76

SUZANNE CURCHOD

Julie de Bondeli, a Bernese lady in Suzanne Curchod's
confidence, told a correspondent, four years later than
this, that Gibbon had roamed the fields round Lausanne
like a madman, compelling the peasants to agree at the
sword's point that Mile Curchod was the most beauti-
ful person on earth. How should such a story arise?
Fancy may play with the notion that there may have
been some extravagant incident during one of those
'pique-niques up the ravine of the Flon. We can never
know. It does not matter. The circulation of the
story alone shows the impression that had gone
abroad. Anyone might have believed it who saw
Gibbon's first letter to Suzanne, written after a visit
to Grassy.

The infatuated youth sits pen in hand eager to avail
himself of the permission given to write. He gazes at
the sky and bursts into loud laughter. One hundred and
one hours eighteen minutes and thirty-*hree seconds of
exile have already passed. As the chaise increased the
distance between them he saw himself on his knees to
her . But he is not shocking her modesty by telling her
all this. These are confidences between himself and his
familiar spirit. We may smile at the lumbering progress
of these old love affairs ! It is a coach to a sports car.
To conclude he has the honour to be 'avec une con-
sid^ration toute particuli&re', her very humble and very
obedient servant. 1

In her first letter Mile Curchod shows herself
cautious. She takes him up on his affectations and
ignores the fervour. And who -ever heard of a person

1 Some of these letters are undated. The missing dates can be supplied with
some certainty. Gibbon's first letter was written about i9th Octooer 17575
S. C.'s reply is dated 24th October. Gibbon's next two letters were written
about ist December and in January 1758. Then come S. C/s letter of icth
January and Gibbon's of pth February, and an undated letter from S. C.
which must also have been written in February. These are the seven surviving
letters exchanged before Gibbon went home.

77

EDWARD GIBBON

bursting into laughter over another's charms? After
rallying him pretty thoroughly on his own ground of
angels and familiars, she enjoins him earnestly not to
come to Rolle. Her mother would not hear of it. Yet,
as we have seen, visits were made and the following
letters only show Gibbon deeper in the toils. His
destruction had been completed by seeing her in her
home, and the mutual devotion of herself and her
parents. He had known so little of that, and there is an
unmistakable seriousness in his words. Now, alone or
in company, even in those studies for which he had
earned the reputation of madness, he sees, hears and
thinks of nothing but her. Since he has known her the
world is changed. He reiterates his devotion. He may
be boring. She may yawn over his letter if she will admit
it would be better if many preachers were as convinced
of what they sayl An odd comparison to make to a
parson's daughter.

Now he has become Le fils du roi Moabdar and she
Zimerline. Still standing her ground, still keeping
Monsieur le savant, son chevalier cauteleux et tranquille^ in
suspense, she wrote to him in January, concluding with
an elaborately allegorical allusion to some illness, 'une
maladie assez ficheuse. Ma chre mre en a 6t6 fort
chagrine, et ma sant ne me paroit pas encore bien
affermie'.

Incredibly this pathetic confession drew no reply!
Suzanne was not too impatient. She let a month nearly
slip away and then wrote again. She drew some thunder
and worse. The explanation was simple. Gibbon had
been away for a month at Fribourg for La fgte des trois
Rois, and then at Berne. 1 She must have written pretty

1 In his letter Gibbon says he was away from 4th January to 3rd February.
In his Journal (p. 6), under 2 3rd January, he says he witnessed Abdre at
Mon Repos. The date in the Journal, written in 1761, is not to be trusted.
There is no reason to suppose he was deceiving her.

78

SUZANNE CURCHOD

sharply, for Gibbon complained not only that he was
treated as *le plus Izlche des homines', but a more sus-
picious nature could infer that she was waiting for a
declaration of indifference, would be annoyed if she did
not get it! This is said at the risk of offending. 'Mais
vous me demandez de la sincrit et je n'ai pas voulu
quitter le ton de la nature pour celui de Paffectation.'

'How could you doubt', he continues, 'for an instant my love
and fidelity? Have you not read the depths of my soul a hundred
times? Have you not seen a passion as pure as it was living?
Have you not realised that your image would hold for ever the
first place in this heart whicn you are now despising, and that, in
the midst of pleasure, honours and riches, without you I should
enjoy nothing?

'While you were giving rein to your suspicions fortune was
working for me, I dare not say for us. I found a letter waiting
for me from my father. He allows me to return to England ana
I hasten there with the first breath of spring. It is true that by
a fete which is only mine I see a storm rising in the midst of
calm. My father's letter is so tender and affectionate. He
appears so anxious to see me again. He dilates with such pride
on the plans he has formed for me, that I see the birth of a
crowd of obstacles to my happiness quite different in every way
from those of inequality of fortune, which were the only ones in
my mind before.

'The condition which the noblest principles led you to require
and which the tenderest motive made me accept gladly, that of
making my abode in this country, will scarcely be listened to by
a father to whose affection and ambition it will be equally a
blow. Yet I do not despair of overcoming it. Love will make
me eloquent. He will be anxious for my nappiness and if he is
he will not dream of separating me from you. My philosophy, let
us say rather, my temperament renders me indifferent to wealth.
Honours are nothing for the man who is not ambitious. If I
know myself, I have never felt the touch of this baleful passion.
The love of study was my sole passion up to the time when you
made me realise that the heart has its needs as well as the mind,
and that they consist in mutual love. I have learnt to love, you
did not forbid me to hope. What happier fete for me than to

79

EDWARD GIBBON

see the time come when I could tell you every moment how
much I love you and hear you say sometimes that I was not
loving in vain/ 1

'I have a little space. I have tried to fill it with something a
little less serious. Mais mon cceur est trop serre\ Je ne puis que
vous rp&er que je suis et serai toujours avec une consideration
toute particuli&re,

'Mademoiselle
*Votre tres humble et tres ob6issant serviteur

*E. GIBBON
'LAUSANNE, 9 f&vrier. 1

What sort of a lover was he, not to have let her know
he was going away to Fribourg? Not to write when he
and his friends decided to go on to Berne? It is easy to
pick over the bones of a dead correspondence endlessly.
It may be no excuse to say that Gibbon was never a
prompt or ready letter-writer or to remind an age that
sends off postcards and telegrams at every turn, and
very often little else, that in those days correspondence
was expensive and slow, and a letter from a young man
to his lady an occasion. More important is it to remem-
ber that the moderate and equable flow of eighteenth-
century expressions does not necessarily connote cold-
ness or shallowness of feeling. They were accustomed
to digest and arrange their emotions before committing
them to paper. We, on the contrary, expect the signs
of spontaneity and unpremeditated confidences as guar-
antees of sincerity. There must be heat and noise and
colour. Not too much logic, but sparks must be struck
at all costs.

If Gibbon's is not the language of sincerity, what is?
And yet and yet. But we know too much, and so per-
haps we think that this little clash first sounded an
alarm in an inner ear. And when that happens, let the
lover protest as he may, yet ultimately he cannot lie.

1 'Que je p"aimais pas une ingrate.'

so

SUZANNE CURCHOD

Did the inner ear catch a whisper that freedom, that
first of blessings, was in danger, that the girl was over-
possessive? 'Le plus lche des homines': was there not
a warning in this reproach?

Suzanne Curchod saw nothing to suspect. Her answer
was humble and wise. She would not pretend that she
was not anxious to have his letter and the assurance of
his fidelity. She would not have hesitated to let him
give up the position that might be his for her sake, be-
cause she was confident that he would never regret the
step. To abandon his duty to his father *un pre si
tendre!' was another matter, and he must know from
her own example that she would never lend herself to
such a course.

She gave him the route of escape and he took it, it may
be said. But again we must not forget the different posi-
tion that filial obligations held in the lives of young
lovers in those days. And there was amour-propre too.
If these obligations were disregarded as thej; were of
course on occasions it was none the less felt that some-
thing monstrous had been done. All honour to Mile
Curchod and no discredit to Gibbon if both were pre-
pared to put their duty in the forefront of their delibera-
tions.

There is the pathos of ingenuousness however in their
calculations upon their seniors' lives. Suzanne may not
have known Mr Gibbon's actual age; Gibbon himself
may not have known; but she speaks of him as an old
man, even of bringing his white hairs in sorrow to the
gravel Gibbon could never tell him at his age that he
was going to live abroad. Increase the distance to com-
pensate tie speed of travelling, but what son of twenty
nowadays is going to tell a father of fifty-one that so
long as he lives he will not go to live so far away as
India? With this idea of Mr Gibbon's age and immin-
ent dissolution Mile Curchod could even suggest later

81 o

EDWARD GIBBON

that Gibbon should meanwhile visit her in Switzerland
every other year!

Complete sincerity and unworldliness on both sides is
surely the impression to be taken from this story at this
point. Not only is there no wavering apparent in Gibbon
but it is untrue to say that Suzanne was not seriously
interested in him at this time. 1

In testimony of the liveliness if not the depth of her
interest is the portrait of Gibbon which she drew prob-
ably in the earlier stage of their acquaintance. She
praises his hair, his hands and fine bearing. She had
never seen so intellectual or remarkable a countenance.
So full and varied in its expression that one could hardly
tire of watching and noting its changes. She records
too, and it is significant, that he enforced all that he
said with appropriate gestures. He knew what was due
to women and his manners were easy without being
familiar. A moderate dancer. His wit varied enormously. 2

The short sketch breaks off abruptly, as though, as
d'Haussonville suggests, the artist could not trust her-
self on paper any nirther.

Meanwhile there are no more letters surviving. On
5th March Gibbon came back from a last visit to Grassy.
We do not know at all what the young lovers planned
in the old white house with the green shutters, what the
parents said, or what hopes Mile Curchod had of a
favourable issue to this struggle between love and duty
with this unknown father. Did Gibbon carry it off
bravely, saying that love would make him eloquent once
more?

The time was now slipping away. His thoughts were

1 It is sometimes said, e.g. by Meredith Read and J. M. Robertson, that it
was only after the publication of Gibbon's Essai with the notice it got and
the promise of further distinction that Mile Curchod became anxious to
marry him. That seems to me quite untenable. x

a The French text is quoted in Gibbon's Journal, p. kvii, from d'Hausson-
ville, op. cit* i. 36.

82

SUZANNE CURCHOD

turned towards his country and family, and the means
of reaching them. Although the Seven Years' War was
in progress, Gibbon rejected the alternative circuitous
route through Germany and determined to travel
through France disguised as a Swiss officer in the
Dutch service. The risk of detection was small ; for his
French was perfect. Yet it was an act of hardihood
which, as he reflected in later years, might have had
serious consequences.

Armed with a passport in the name of his friend Dey-
verdun and arrayed in his Dutch regimentals he set
out in a hired coach with two other travellers and was
accompanied as far as Toigne in Franche Comt, where
they 'made a debauch of it*. 1 From thence by unevent-
ful stages the travellers passed through France and
Flanders. At Maestricht Gibbon dined with the
officers of the Garrison and visited M. de Beaufort, an
authority on Roman history. He landed at Harwich
about four in the afternoon, having been out o England
four years ten months and fifteen days, and lay at
Colchester. Did the young lover once more reckon up
as well the days, hours and minutes of his exile?

He had landed on the 4th May 1758. The next day
'I got to London about noon, went immediately to Mrs
Porten's. Heard of my father in the evening and saw
him and Mrs. Gibbon in Charles Street, St. James's
Square/

Three days later he came of age. 2 It was an occasion
of more satisfaction to his father than to himself. Mr
Gibbon's 'sickly finances' had increased his anxiety for
his son's return. 'The priests and the altar had been
prepared, and the victim was unconscious of the im-

1 Gibbon's Journal, pp. 7-8.

a Murray, pp. 155-6. After the reform of the calendar Gibbon's birthday
fell on 8th May, N.S. The loss of eleven days in 1752 had caused the young
chronologist some surprise. Murray, p. 79.

83

EDWARD GIBBON

pending stroke.' The young man his submission
could not be but 'blind and almost involuntary' was
induced to consent to the cutting off of the entail of his
grandfather's will. Some legal fictions were performed
and the immediate consequence was that the father
was able to raise by a mortgage on the Putney
estate a badly needed ten thousand pounds, while a
life annuity of three hundred a year was settled on the
son.

The elderly memoirist looked back on this transaction
without rancour. Something better might have been
done for him perhaps. Even in his exile he had been
asking for 200 a year. But he had done the right thing
in acquiescing^ Three hundred pounds a year the
amount of the pension given to Dr. Johnson in 1762
was by no means equal 'to the style of a young English-
man of fashion in the most wealthy Metropolis of
Europe'. But the young man had no taste for extrava-
gant pleasures and his long exile had cut him off from
acquaintances who would have led him into them. On
the whole he was content. But three hundred a year
would have been no sum to marry on in England. It
would have meant the most modest of establishments in
the Pays de Vaud. He could only expect a more liberal
arrangement if his bride was approved, if not chosen, by
the family.

Half a stranger in his own country, palpably a little
stiff with his English, not quite knowing whether to
laugh or cry over the provisions made by his father, still
in the first apprehensions of making contact with his
new mother here was slippery ground for a young
lover to open his intentions on.

He bided his time not unwisely. He had been received
with every mark of affection by Mrs Gibbon as well as
by his father. When he felt the time was ripe, he told
his secret. But the unfamiliar atmosphere of domestic

SUZANNE CURCHOD

harmony in which he felt at last able to open his case
must have been prejudicial to his resolution. Let his
letter to Suzanne tell the story:

*I cannot begin. Yet I must. I take up my pen, I put it down,
I take it up again*. You realise by this beginning what I am
going to say. Spare me the rest. Yes, I must give you up for-
ever. The decree is passed, my heart groans over it, but before
my duty, everything must be silent.

* Arrived in England, my inclinations and interest alike coun-
selled me to win my father's affection and dispel the clouds
which had separated me from it for some time. I can boast of
having succeeded. All his behaviour, the most delicate atten-
tions, the most solid kindnesses have convinced me of it. I
seized the moment when he was assuring me that all his thoughts
were bent on making me happy to ask his permission to offer
myself to the woman with whom every country and every state
would be equally agreeable, and without whom they would all
be a burden. Tnis was his answer: "Marry your foreigner , you
are independent. But before you do so remember that you are
a son and an Englishman." He then expatiated on the cruelty of
leaving him and of sending him to the grave befoH his time,
on the baseness of trampling on everything that I owed to my
country. I went to my room, stayed there two hours; I will not
attempt to describe mj condition to you; I came out again
to tell my father that for him I sacrificed all the happiness of
my life.

'May you be happier than I can ever hope to be. That will
always be my prayer, it will even be my consolation. To think
that I can only contribute to it by my prayers. I tremble to
learn your fate, yet do not leave me in ignorance. It will be
a very cruel moment for me. Assure Monsieur and Madame
Curchod of my respect, my esteem and my regrets. I shall
always recall Mademoiselle Curchod as the most respectable
and charming of women. May she not entirely forget a man
who did not deserve the despair of which he is the prey.

'Good-byej this letter must appear to you strange in everyway,
it is the image of my soul.

'I wrote to you twice on the journey, at a village in Lorraine,
from Maestncht, and once from London; you have not received
them; I do not know if I should hope that this one will reach

85

EDWARD GIBBON

you. I have the honour to be with feelings which are the torture
of my life, and a regard which nothing can change,

'Mademoiselle
'Your very humble and very obedient servant,

*E. GIBBON
'BURITON, 24 ao&t 1758.' *

Those who thought that Suzanne Curchod was not
seriously attached to Gibbon at this time had not read
her answer to this letter. The distress is real to the
point of incoherence. Yet in her passion the writer
seems to waver between accepting her lover's renuncia-

tion and a desperate hope of holding him:

'The feeling I had for you', she says, 'was so pure, it was a
union of virtue and affection, but a very tender affection. You
are the only man for whom I have shed tears, the only one
whose loss has torn sobs from me and how many others appear
uninteresting compared with the only <

She breaks off. A little scornfully she tells him, 'You
sacrificed to duty with a firmness that might afford an
example', forgetting that a few months before they had
been mutually pointing the way to that altar. She would
have been ready to follow him anywhere, and could he
not have proposed to his father to leave her in Switzer-
land during her father's life, visiting her there every
other year? 'That, it seems to me, would not have con-
flicted with your status as a son and an Englishman? She
closes this letter with a further reproach which others
have not missed:

* d'Haussonville, Le Salon de Madame Necker, i. 58, who first printed this
letter, gives the year 1762, and from that he and others built on the idea that
Gibbon had kept Mile Curchod in the belief that they -were engaged for four
years. But internal evidence and comparison with the rest of the correspond-
ence show that this letter must have been written in 1758. Mile Curchod was
at any rate ready to face a long engagement, as her letter of 7th September
1758 shows.

What appears to be the letter written from Bayonne in Lorraine is in the
Pierpont Morgan Library.

86

SUZANNE CURCHOD

'In two hours you made up your mind, I reflected on this part
of your letter. Ah ! how my dear parents would like me to have
made my decision as promptly.'

What decision? Apparently about another offer to
which she had already made an obscure, perhaps pur-
posely tantalising reference. If this and a hint about her
health were designed to rouse her lover's jealousy and
pity, need we refuse to believe in the genuineness of her
feelings?

Time passed with no reply to this letter, and her feel-
ings were beginning to cool when she heard from Mrs
Gibbon that her letter had been intercepted, with the
insinuation that Gibbon was in connivance. This idea,
after a momentary entertainment, she indignantly re-
jects. Her future is not yet decided, and once more she
ventures to repeat her proposal of the occasional visits.
But if Mr Gibbon remained inflexible she would not ask
the son to forsake his duty. For herself she has no
reproaches on the score of duty. Only her h^art could
be dissatisfied. But her actions had been foubded on
virtue and feeling, and whatever the consequences here-
after she would never abandon these two guides.

The date of this last letter is uncertain, but Gibbon's
reply was written on 23rd February 1759.* He in-
dignantly repudiated any part in his stepmother's pro-
ceedings, and complained that he had been long in
ignorance of Suzanne's state. 'These parents say that
they only desire our happiness. They believe it them-
selves.' He reiterates his constancy. Absence has only
convinced him of his attachment, and he compares the
rich but loveless matches of London with, the simplicity
of Grassy, where he had passed the sweetest moments of
his life* He recalls an incident at Grassy which has the

1 A letter from Suzanne has probably been lost. Gibbon appears to quote
a phrase, 'Vos sentiments ne s'eteindront qu'apres les miens', which does not
occur in the extant letters.

8?

EDWARD GIBBON

stamp of truth, and he must have been heartless indeed
if in reminding her of it his own feelings were not
genuine.

^Phteire d? amour? he writes and underlines the words, c je vous
jurats un attachement A Ffyreuve du temps; you did not turn away
your eyes and I thought I read in them your affection and my
nappiness. My emotion was noticed. They rallied me for it.
My heart was too agitated to answer. I made some excuse and
ran to my room.'

But once more 'il faut c&ler la n6cessit et le devoir
en est un pour les ames bien nes\ As soon as he had
got her letter he had left for Buriton and pleaded once
more with his father, painting her picture in the bright-
est colours and insisting that this was no passing fancy,
a spark that the first object had kindled, 'mats une pas-
sion durable fondle stir la Connaissance et fyurte far la
Vertu\ He suggested a plan which would have removed
all the difficulties. All was in vain. Mr Gibbon with
his knowledge of the world knew that lovers exagger-
ated. Besides the lady had m fortune, and his son must
have a considerable establishment. 'Granted', continued
he, so Gibbon reports him, in calm but determined
tones,

'Granted that Mademoiselle Curchod were all that you depict
and her fortune were worthy of her, she is a Foreigner.
You have already only too much inclination for foreign ways.
You no longer know the language of your own country.
Mademoiselle Curchod would find little to please her m
England She would use her influence to get you away. That
would be natural. But what a misfortune for me, what a crime
for you. I cannot contemplate it without a shudder. Make up
your mind and try to forget about it, for nothing will make me
consent to this alliance. 7

'There are moments, Mademoiselle, when this refusal makes me
think that I owe him nothing more and that free from every obliga-
tion I can try to find my haziness cost what it may to him or me.
You would despise me if 1 did not add that these moments are

88

SUZANNE CURCHOD

not very frequent or long. To live in the expectation of his death
would be another way: at least we should not lose hope. But what
a hope. That of a father's death. Besides I fear nothing for my self >
but everything gives me uneasiness on your account. If my Father
survived me, what a plight would be yours!

'You realise where these sad reflexions end. Yet I keep on
putting off the fatal moment. To forget you, to forget at least the
lover to know only the friend. To marry another woman. To
invite you to follow my example. What ideas. They frighten
me. I would rather not look at them. I fear you may not be
able to make this effort. I fear that you may. Alas, shall I be
able to myself?'

In the final letter of this period Suzanne rings down
the curtain on this drama with quiet and dignified re-
signation. She had been offended by the postscript of
Gibbon's last letter in which he had made an offer to
discontinue their correspondence, although he himself
had disclaimed any such desire and had furnished her
with a safe address in the Strand. But she wquld like to
have news,

*Quels sont vos progres litteraires? seriez vous attire* pari'ambi-
rion? favorise* par la tendresse? Marie*? ou prSt a I'tae? Will
the chains be of flowers or solid gold? No evasions in this respect
for I wish to know all. If it is true that I am still in love, it is
with an affectionate eager, tender lover whom I had before. A
pure fantasy, which exists no more except in my memory. My
memory is tenacious when my heart has engraved upon it:
"Votre soumission est juste, elle m6rite mon estime, et mes
floges." '

One more word she had to say on their romance, and
then it was to disappear from their future correspon-
dence. She admitted she had let him know that there
was another suitor, she had even enjoyed tantalising
him* For several reasons she had resisted the repeated

offers of M, de . x Perhaps now she would be more

ready to listen to him. She also told him there were

1 No doubt M. de Montplaisir. See below, pp. 139 and 146-7.

8 9

EDWARD GIBBON

hopes of recovering her mother's property in France.
That would render them fairly well off in Switzerland.
She seemed anxious to let him know that she could be
independent.

There the correspondence ends until Gibbon's return
to Lausanne in 1763, with the exception of a letter sent
to Mile Curchod with a copy of Gibbon's first book.

What might strike a modern lover in these letters is the
lack of intimacy displayed on both sides. The feeling
is undoubted, but the approach sometimes makes one
imagine that the letters were exchanged by sympathetic
attorneys to the Court of Love rather than by the prin-
cipals. Or if one compares these letters to flowers,
withered long ago, which one handles with careful
questioning, they seem to be not merely brittle and
scentless but of some species which grows no longer
among us.

It does not seem that Mile Curchod ever doubted the
sincerity and even fervour of Gibbon's attachment. We
may think he yielded to circumstances too easily. But
what else could he do? Perhaps he did himself an in-
justice in that fatal mention of the two hours. But two
hours' thought with him were not the hours of ordinary
people. And even then, as we see by his later letter, he
did not give up the struggle. But he had a clear mind,
and a clear mind is apt to lose the sympathy that comes
to more distressful doubts and suspenses. Three hun-
dred a year his father possibly outliving his son
his obligations at home not to be denied Putney and
mortgages, the new-found retreat of Buriton his books
study, peace, freedom. The argument possibly ran
loosely into the pleasant sensation of restoration to his
family and rightful position artfully fostered by his
father and stepmother.

It will not do either to apply the modern romantic and
ethical notions. We are far here from the day when

90

SUZANNE CURCHOD

young couples settle in a three-roomed flat on the hire
purchase system and their expectations. And even
granting the rudiments of such notions, we must admit
that neither by his position, nor his upbringing, nor his
physique could he hope to put it briefly to get a job.
Great heat and great pressure are said to go to the
making of crystals, and such was the process through
which Gibbon passed before this tale of youthful ardour
and helplessness crystallised into the immortal *I sighed
as a lover, I obeyed as a son*.

Chapter 7

BURITON AND BOND STREET

1758-1760

T OVE was fighting a losing battle in which the oppos-
I j ing forces of family affection, engrossing occupation
and English comfort were insidiously gaining strength
every day. It is easy to believe that Mr and Mrs
Gibbon played their part with skill They had every
right. In sfite of divergence of tastes Gibbon got on
well with his father, and in his stepmother he found
nothing of what a natural suspicion and the wisdom of
literature had led him to expect. Virgil's line about the
iniusta noverca was running in his head as he went to
meet her. But his first reserve broke down before her
kindly welcome and efforts to please him. He discovered
that this was not merely a surface smoothness but that
she was a woman of 'warm and exquisite sensibility'.
He admired her good sense and good management. A
woman can feed other brutes than her husband, and
Gibbon was not slow to compare her household with
Mme Pavillard's. 1

Esteem rapidly grew into a very real affection. The
need for craft or dissimulation went. Gibbon may have
been too obviously diplomatic though it is difficult to

1 Dorothea Patton was about 40 when she married. Her father, David
Pattern, died at Colne Engain, Essex, in 1746. He had also lived at Long
Mdford, Suffolk; but there is reason to believe he was Scottish. Gibbon says
she had a moderate property, but her inheritance seems to have been a debt
which brought new worries to her husband (Brit. Mus. 11907, dd. 25 (2)).
Her brother Will also made his home at Buriton till his death in 1772.

92

BURITON AND BOND STREET

blame him in the first messages which he sent her
from Lausanne. But his sincerity is as undoubted as it is
warm when three years later he writes for his own eyes
alone, 'I can't express the pleasure I had at seeing her,
I love her as a companion, a friend and a mother', 1

Thus the summer passed away happily at Buriton in
the sunshine of family harmony. In six weeks from the
beginning of July he was hard at work on his Essai y and
on the 24th August, the day he wrote the fateful letter
to Suzanne, he records it is the only record for that
day that he gave it to a French prisoner at Petersfield
to copy.

For the interests of sport and farming which engaged
his father, Gibbon pretended to no inclination or apti-
tude. He was content that the farm should supply the
kitchen. This indifference is strange when one considers
how he studied and admired Buffon, and remembers the
notes concerning both animal and vegetable nature which
abound in The Decline and Fall. But he seldom rode and
still more seldom shot. A short stroll soon satisfied him,
and he turned to his books or meditations without re-
gret after watching his father ride off on his hunter for
a meet of the Duke of Richmond's hounds. If a hunting
saddle ordered in July 1758 was meant for him, his
father was to be sadly disappointed, and his neighbours,
ready to welcome the heir of Buriton with a day's sport,
may well have cast up their eyes at the squire's Frenchi-
fied son. To what perhaps testy note or message was
the following reply written?

TBERITON, Now. 16, 1758
'Six,

* As I am extremely well convinced of your politeness, and
your readiness to grant your neighbours any reasonable liberty
with regard to country sports, so I should be very sorry if either
myself or my servants had taken any improper ones.

1 Gibbon's Journal, p. 72.

93

EDWARD GIBBON

'I am no sportsman, Sir, and was as much tempted this morn-
ing by the beauty of the day and the pleasure of the ride as by
the hopes of any sport. I went out, and neither acquainted witn
the bounds of the manors nor your request to the neighbouring
gentlemen, could only follow my groom where he led me. I
quitted your manor the instant I received your message, with-
out having killed anything in it. I assure you that you shall
never have again the same subject of complaint With regard to
the liberty you are so good as to grant me for other sports, I
return you my most humble thanks, but shall not make much
use of it, as there are still in my father's manor more game than
would satisfy so moderate a sportsman as myself.

*My father would be extremely angry if his servants had
destroyed any of your game; but they all assure him they have
killed no one hare upon your liberties. As to pheasants, they
have only killed one this season, and that in Inwood copse.

'I am
'Sir,

'Your obedient humble servant

'E. GIBBON, Junior' I

For the business of a country gentleman he had no
more liking. But in his father's company he attended
various balls, assemblies and race meetings. It must
have been with the eyes of a long-lost Roman rather
than those of a prospective squire. The colour and
noise of Stockbridge races, and how gay and colourful
an eighteenth-century race meeting must have been,
served only to turn his thoughts to Olympia and the
Circus Maximus.

It was in the spring and summer of 1759 that most of
these excursions took place. There were constant
journeys to Winchester and Alton upon the Militia
business, and on I2th June Gibbon received his com-
mission of Captain, little thinking what inroads on his
time were to be made. In the same autumn there was
a county election. Gibbon and his father supported

i Notes and Queries, ist Ser., k. p. 511, 1854, contributed by E. G. F. S.

94

BURITON AND BOND STREET

Simeon Stuart, respectively subscribing 25 and 100
for him. They constantly attended the meetings and
went canvassing at Waltham, Portsmouth and Gosport.
In the fifteen months out of two years spent at Buriton
before the Militia was embodied Gibbon was for the
most part left to spend his time as he chose. He occu-
pied a room on the first floor. The library was on the
same floor. Here was a mixed collection of books,
obsolete political and theological tracts, some valuable
editions of the Classics and Fathers which had been
chosen and left by Law, 1 with some occasional later
additions. He was left to dispose or add to this collec-
tion as he liked, and from this modest beginning was
built up a library which he called the best comfort of his
life at home or abroad. With a twenty pound bank note
he purchased with unforgettable elation the twenty
volumes of the publications of the Acadimie des Inscrip-
tions^ a collection of reviews and discussions which ranged
over ancient and modern history and travel and which
Sainte-Beuve described with truth as 'la patrie intellectu-
elle de Gibb on. ' This was a big sum to take out of his allow-
ance. Perhaps he received it from his father, whom he
relates to have supplemented his allowance by occasion-
ally discharging his arrears with the bookseller. But
Gibbon was never a reckless or ostentatious buyer of
books. Every volume was scrutinised before it was
purchased, just as in reading them he was accustomed
first to review what he already knew or believed of the
subject before committing himself to a perusal. In fact
in all his labours Gibbon kept an account, and balanced
the profits and losses of his mind with an exactitude
which seems to have derived, with a difference, from his
grandfather's counting-house. Books were primarily
things to use. But Gibbon was by no means insensible to

1 They must have been brought down from Putney. It does not appear,
I think, that either Law or Gibbon's grandfather ever lived at Buriton.

EDWARD GIBBON

their possible beauty. It was a sense that grew, possibly,
with ripe mastery of knowledge. A note written in the
last summer of his life records :

'as the eye is the organ of fancy I read Homer with more pleasure
in the Glasgow folio. Through that fine medium the poet's
sense appears more beautiful and transparent. Bishop Louth
has said that he could discover only one error in that accurate
edition Yet how could a man of taste read Homer with such
literal attention?' 1

Nevertheless Gibbon's early studies of the classics had
been extremely minute and literal. He acquired from
the editors whom he used the zeal for emendation which
is so fascinating and often so futile, and the learned
correspondence which he had entered into at Lausanne
with Professors Breitinger and Gesner was taken up
with corrections of Livy and Justin, which he defended
somewhat obstinately against their superior learning
and experience. 2 So too at Buriton in the midst of the
first distractions of the Militia meetings he was driven
by a difficult passage in Livy through 'the dry and dark
treatises of Greaves Arbuthnot, Hooper, Bernard,
Eissenschmidt, Gronovius, La Barre, Freret, etc/ Un-
flaggingly he would make the most searching calcula-
tions upon the ancient weights and measures, currencies
or calendars. It is unlikely that he would have been lost
for ever in these elaborate pedantries. They were but
foundations, very solid ones, for a superstructure which
was as yet not conceived.

But in this summer of 1759 his imagination was
kindled afresh by a new turn in his course of reading.
On Mallet's advice he had sought to recover the purity
of English idiom. Swift and Addison had been wisely

1 Misc. Wh. v. p. 583.

* One of his suggestions, 'otio* for 'odio* in Livy, is now universally ac-
cepted. It has MS. authority. It was not a difficult one to make, but Gibbon
deserves the credit of having been apparently the first to see it. Livy, xxx. 44.

9 6

BURITON AND BOND STREET

and successfully prescribed. 'The favourite companions
of my leisure were our English writers since the
Revolution ; they breathe the spirit of reason and liberty/
From them it was a natural and exhilarating step to
the most conspicuous of the moderns. The historical
writings of Robertson and Hume filled him with a novel
delight and sowed the first ambition of following these
writers, whose achievements nevertheless he despaired
of equalling.

With such ferments in his mind he found the day all
too short and could become impatient with the wasteful
ways of country house life, the prolonged meals, the
morning dalliance in Mrs Gibbon's dressing-room, his
father's leisurely perusal and discussion or the news-
papers, the calls of idle but important neighbours they
might appear at half-past eight for breakfast and spend
the day 1 above all, those nights of full moon when the
handsome set of bays or greys were brought from the
farm, and the Gibbon family rumbled off in the landau-
and-six to dine with some Hampshire Huddleston
Fuddleston. Yet these interruptions were salutary or
he might have worn himself out with incessant study,
another Casaubon, and one of these sacrifices to domestic
routine, such are the mysteries of Providence, afforded
if not the seed yet the favourable soil to a further
development of his intellect.

The church of Buriton lies not many yards from the
front of the manor house. The scene can be little
changed since his day. The ground drops down from
the house to a pond shaded with gracious trees; on the
other side are the old rectory and the church, whose square
tower is at least unchanged. Across this rural English
scene Gibbon accompanied his father and stepmother
Sunday by Sunday not once only but usually twice. He
was confronted week by week with religion. In London

1 Gibbon's Journal, p. 89.

97 H

EDWARD GIBBON

or abroad he might have gone on in unquestioning in-
difference about a thing which he never encountered.
Here there was no escape. The time had to be spent,
It must be turned to profit. In the family pew he
deposited copies of the Old and New Testament in
Greek with which he followed the lessons. Gospels and
Epistles, at first, seemingly, with the idea only of im-
proving his Greek. But what he read was apt to set him
thinking furiously for the rest of the service. Perhaps
Mr Barton's sermons were dull Gibbon appears at
different times of his life as a keen amateur of sermons
possibly they added new problems. The service over,
he was eager to get back to the house through the
groups of tenantry and villagers standing to pay their
respects to the 'Maijer and the Captin', and there to con-
sult learned divines who only left him still worse con-
founded. 'Since my escape from Popery I had humbly
acquiesced in the common creed of the Protestant
Churches.' Now he made a regular trial of it, reading
Grotius 'On the truth of the Christian Religion' and
finding that it was not at all true. Supernatural religion
collapsed on 'the brittle basis of human testimony', and
the only conclusion was 'that the faith as well as the
virtue of a Christian must be formed and fortified by
the inspiration of Grace'. 1

Once again it maybe noted how tentative was Gibbon's
advance. His destructive criticism worked intensively
within a limited area. He was concerned with the his-
torical value of certain narratives rather than with the
supporting philosophical or theological framework.
He could still write quite naturally in 1761 of 'our
Creator' and His works, and at the end of the same
paper, which is so instructive in showing how he held
the balance between strict concentration and elasticity
of method, occur these significant words, 'I shall con-

1 Murray, pp. 249-50.
Q 8

BURITON AND BOND STREET

tinue to search for the truth, though hitherto I have
found nothing but probability'. 1 Little service has been
done to Gibbon by trying to show that at the end of his
life he went back on the position that he had reached
earlier, but equally injudicious and unhistorical is this
notion that he emerged Minerva-like from the brow of
contemporary orthodoxy, as brightly and completely
agnostic as the latest adherent of the Rationalist Press
Association.

The charm of this even comfortable existence was only
enhanced by two winters spent in London. It would be
natural for the young man to be eager for such an ex-
perience; it would be natural for his father to encourage
him to enter society and so to acquire more ties with his
native country. Such however was not the consequence.
Mr Gibbon had lost his place in society and his son had
not sufficient address and energy to make his own way,
especially on the moderate allowance which he enjoyed.

He lodged at one time in New Bond Street over a
draper's, where he had three rooms on the first floor for
a guinea and a half a week, and 'a very handsome chair
for twenty-seven shillings'. But money soon ran short
and his father, not for the last time, proved unpunctual
with his remittances. Gibbon wrote to his stepmother
that he was really distressed for money: 'I have hardly a
guinea left, and you know the unavoidable expences of
London*. He had vainly tried to borrow of his aunt and
his father's lawyer. Could she not risk sending a bank
note by the Hastings Post? 'For upon my word I shall
hardly know what to do in three or four days/ All the
same he was just off to the theatre to see Garrick play
Sir John Brute in The Provoked Wife. Playgoing was
his greatest satisfaction at this time. He was thus much
like his father in his inability to conceive of more than

1 Misc. W"ks. v. p. 209. Eoctra&s Ratsarmfs de mes Lectures^, -written at Dover,
I4th March 1761.

99

EDWARD GIBBON

one mode of life in town. Each learned his lesson in
turn and retreated finally, the one to Buriton, the other
to Lausanne. It was the way of their age and class and
no one could have suggested an alternative.

'While coaches were rattling through Bond Street, I
have passed many a solitary evening in my lodging with
my books.' But he could read them better at Buriton.
It must have been disappointing. Few people like not
being invited to the party, least of all this young man
who four years later was to complain that the Due de
Nivernois treated him more as a man of letters than a
man of fashion. 1

The few letters that remain of this first winter reveal
him still not quite at ease with his father or the world.
He is still most anxious to please the former, apologises
for not having written to Mrs Gibbon, assures his father
that he only keeps such company as he would approve.
His manner is rather forced and heavy. He retails
gossip of society in which he had so little part. 'Sir
George El kin, a man of family and fortune, has married
Miss Roach, a woman of the town. Everybody pities
him/ A Ciceronian sententiousness comes in. 'My un-
fashionable politicks are that a war can hardly be a good
one, and a peace hardly a bad one/

It is rather of Mrs Porten at Westminster with her
houseful of measles, and of supping with her off a
Buriton leveret, and of Mme Celesia receiving him 'in a
dirty white linnen gown, no rufles', that he wrote home,
and his Memoirs sum up less graciously that he went to
*some dull family parties, to some old Tories of the
Cocoa-tree and to some casual connections such as my
taste and esteem would never have selected'. There was
always a touch of provincialism about Gibbon, and he
was often most at home among rather humdrum people.

In such circumstances he often sighed for Lausanne^

1 Gibbon 9 s Journal, p. 202.
IOO

EDWARD GIBBON
After a pen drawing by Lady Diana Beattderk

BURITON AND BOND STREET

and the one house in London which appealed to him
was Lady Hervey's, in which was to be found the nearest
approach to a Parisian salon, where 'there is no card-
playing, but very good company and very good con-
versation*.

It was to David Mallet, his old Putney friend, or to his
daughter Mme Celesia, that he owed his introduction
here. Through Mme Celesia also he was to meet 'the
great David Hume'. He never mentions whether he did,
and probably their acquaintance must be assigned to a
later date. Through Mallet also he became acquainted
with Garrick, either now or a little later. In 1 762 when
Mallet's Elvira was to be produced, he took Gibbon to
breakfast with Garrick and thence to a rehearsal in the
green-room. Earlier in the same year, when Gibbon had
a mind to be made a brigade-major, Mallet promised to
get Mr Charles Howard to speak to Lord Effingham
-abeutritr- It ,is Mallet again who greets Gibbon on his
entrance at the Smyrna Coffee House. There was no
end to the usefulness of this dapper insinuating deist.

In this way he passed the winter from the middle of
December 1758 to the following February, and again
from the 2oth November to the end of April 1760. Of
this second winter in town there are no details beyond
a record in his Journal that he learnt Italian. He was
away for a longer period and perhaps felt more at home.
But we may believe he was equally glad when the time
came to return to Buriton and the simple company
which he had learned to value so much.

A young scholar desires to see himself in print. In
1757 Gibbon had sent a critical article to Professor
Breitinger which, in spite of being written in French in-
stead of Latin, would have been put into the Museum
Hefoeticum had not that journal been meanwhile sus-

101

EDWARD GIBBON

pended. The next venture was begun in March 1758
immediately after the last visit to Grassy, and it is more
probable that the stimulus of love lent the writer addi-
tional energy than that the commencement at such a
date should point to an incomplete devotion.

Fifteen chapters we should call them paragraphs
had been written before Gibbon left Switzerland, and it
was in the quietude of Buriton that L'Essai sur V Etude
de la Litt&rature was continued in July and provisionally
finished in February 1759.

It was shown to Dr. Maty of the British Museum,
a Dutchman, who was probably more conversant with
continental thought than anyone else in London. He
criticised and encouraged. But the work was laid aside
for two years. The Militia had intervened.

In the spring of 1761, however, Gibbon revised it for
the press and added a considerable portion. This was
in deference to his father. The war was apparently
ending and the time was ripe for a publication which
might help towards a diplomatic appointment such as
Gibbon himself would have welcomed.

Maty and Mallet in London helped to see the Cap-
tain's work through the press. In return for a number
of copies, most of which went to prominent people
whom Mr Gibbon considered his friends, the profits or
losses were left to the bookseller Becket. Maty, without
telling Gibbon, contributed an introductory letter ad-
dressed to him. In it he unjustifiably went out of his
way to sneer at Johnson, an old enemy. Warning the
young author of his temerity in composing in French,
he says, *le vieux Caton fr&nit et dans son Club Anti-
gallican vous d&ionce, le punch k la main, un ennemi
de la patrie*. Maty's prophecy was to be fulfilled,
though on different grounds.

The book excited some interest among Lady Hervey's
circle and Mallet sent him a letter containing the Comte

102

BURITON AND BOND STREET

de Caylus's appreciation, and later in the year it was
thought worth while to have an English version made.
It was very badly done.

In this little work Gibbon made an outlet for himself
something like that which undergraduates now find in
the prize essay. It would be unfair to compare Gibbon's
effort with such competent performances, which have
had all the advantages of systematic training and direc-
tion. His own criticism of his work remains just. A
lack of arrangement and the introduction of irrelevant
matter prevented the orderly presentation of his chosen
theme. There was an excessive and even specious dis-
play of erudition, and not infrequently a sententious
obscurity, born of a desire to play the oracle in the
manner of Montesquieu.

The choice of French also was a mark of youthful and
rather perverse vanity. To use a foreign language with
mastery had been a seduction in every age the parallel
of Cicero composing his memoirs in Greek and anxious
for their fame was significant but while other nations,
the Germans especially, had 'seized the opportunity of
speaking to Europe in this common dialect*, English-
men had been so backward and insular that after allow-
ing for what Temple and Bolingbroke, Chesterfield and
Hamilton had written, the young exile felt that it might be
accorded to him to say Primus ego infatriam as being the
first Englishman to domesticate French in the manner
of Leibnitz or King Frederick. It was a foible which
persisted for some years and was no doubt strengthened
by the reception which he deservedly got in Paris in
1763.

The subject chosen was equally naturally the reaction
of his predilections to the current atmosphere of French
intellectual life. In the early eighteenth century there
was a popular appetite for natural science and its possi-
bilities contributed to the intellectual optimism of the

103

EDWARD GIBBON

time. Men whose talents lay in other fields were tempted
to change their allegiances. Montesquieu even had pro-
jected a physical history of the earth. The name of
savant was becoming appropriated to scientists, and
scholars of th6 older learning were termed contemptu-
ously rudits. It was, Gibbon records, especially d'Alem-
bert's Discours frttiminaire r Encyclopedic which pro-
voked him to champion the cause of ancient literature
as a worthy field in which all the faculties of the mind
could be fully and usefully expended. The scholar was
no mere compiler of facts. All facts were precious,
even if their immediate significance or use was not
obvious.

'Imitons les botanistes', he says. 'Toutes les plantes ne sont
pas utiles dans la m^decine, cependant Us ne cessent d'en de*-
couvrir de nouvelles. Ils esp&rent que le g&iie et les travaux
heureux y verront des propri6tes jusqu'a present cachtes.'

But the scholar must bring to the interpretation of
facts judgment and imagination not inferior to those of
the scientist. History was for a philosophic mind what
play was for the Marquis de Dangeau, who discerned a
co-ordinated system where others saw only the caprice
of fortune. In the following paragraphs Gibbon dis-
cusses the relative value of facts, the use which should
be made of them and the rarity of that type of mind
which can select the Essential out of the chaos of events.
But perhaps his most illuminating remark is that which
opens Chapter L: *Df6rez plut6t aux faits qui viennent
d'eux mSmes vous former un syst&ne, qu'k ceux que
vous d^couvrez apr&s avoir congu ce syst&me'.

There would be fewer dead histories if this simple
advice had been more often remembered.

In a number of reflexions of this kind the Essai pre-
serves for us some value and interest and we may agree
with Gibbon himself that it was a creditable perform-

104

BURITON AND BOND STREET

ance for a young Englishman of twenty-two. It also
marks a period in his intellectual life. The inconse-
quence or the ideas, Robertson has remarked, already
indicates a lukewarm zeal for theorising. But so far as
they go, they are the product of genuine and hardy
speculation.

*It is indeed almost startling to find him touching on problems
which are still baffling; solving them, indeed, quite prematurely,
but really feeing them. "Beauty", he writes, "is perhaps founded
on utility alone. The human form is beautiful only because it
so perfectly answers the ends for which it was designed." The
solution visibly fails; but Spencer had got no further a hundred
years later. This is a thinker as well as a student. If he dis-
misses Mandeville in the Autobiography with a cool concern to
be on the respectable side of things, he shows in the Essai that
he had pondered him even as he had ruminated Montesquieu.' l

If the Essai did not make the sensation at home that
such a tour deforce might be expected to do, it was well
received abroad, and the Bittioihtque des Sciences et des
Beaux Arts said that there was no need for the author
to claim indulgence for his youth, and prophesied that
sooner or later he would rank with d'Alembert, de la
Bletterie, Lyttelton and Warburton.

1 J. M. Robertson, Gibbon^ p. 39.

105

Chapter 8

THE MILITIA

1760-1763

XT-JET in the midst of his newly found happiness and
j[ congenial occupations Gibbon could hardly forget
that his independence was specious. He was tethered
by his ^300 a year at short length within the range
of his father's ambitions. A long and elaborate letter
addressed early in 1760 to his father while they were
under the same roof gives the measure of his uneasiness.
He was clearly afraid of being talked down.

His father wished to see him in Parliament, and was
willing to provide fifteen hundred pounds to that end.
Gibbon had no wish to enter the House. He felt that
he was not the man to seek to convince others of any-
thing which he understood only imperfectly himself.
The tide would not be worth the outlay. But if his father
was prepared to spend so much money, could he not
apply it not to making his son great, but to rendering
him happy? To avoid keeping his father in suspense
he opened his full plan. He wished to travel; France
was inaccessible, but not so Italy, *a country which
every scholar must long to see*. He proposed to set out
in the autumn and pass the winter at Lausanne

'with M. de Voltaire and my old friends. The armies no longer
obstruct my passage and it must be indifferent to you, whether
I am at Lausanne or at London during the winter, since I shall
not be at Beriton. In the spring I would cross the Alps and
after some stay in Italy, as the war must then be terminated,

106

THE MILITIA

return home thro' France, to live happily with you and my dear
Mother.'

He added that 'the man who does not travel early, runs
a great risk of not travelling at all'. He was now nearly
twenty-three and need not be accused of inconsistency
with his previously expressed dislike of young travellers.

It is remarkable that he should have proposed to re-
turn to Lausanne, mentioning Voltaire whom he hardly
knew, though a weighty name to press on his father.
The affair with Mile Curchod was evidently to be re-
garded as finished. We do not know what his thoughts
or feelings were at this time. Neither the Letters nor
the Journal, which he was to begin in a year's time, con-
tain any reference. On the other hand the Journal does
reveal a Gibbon whom we have not seen before, one
who may be called on to make a marriage approved of by
his father and whose heart is meanwhile free and not a
little susceptible, but protected by a very alert mind.

In August 1761 to jump forward a moment into
Gibbon's military career a Miss Chetwynd, though
not perhaps perfectly handsome, was causing him some
uneasiness. 'This girl grows on me', he exclaims and
determines to seek other occasions of seeing her than
the assemblies where his inability to dance is humiliating.

*Tho* she has said nothing extraordinary, I am convinced she
is sensible, perhaps it is an illusion of passion, perhaps an effect
of that sympathy by which people of understanding discover one
another from the meerest trifles.*

But after an evening at the theatre, where she could not
but notice his assiduity in looking at her from a dis-
tance, this lady is heard of no more.

The case of the Misses Page was more formidable.
The elder was 'that dangerous female character called a
wit'. But Fanny, 'a pretty meek (but I am afraid) in-
sipid girF, was talked of for the heir of Buriton, and

107

EDWARD GIBBON

even invited to stay there. What stories would not that
produce ! She would have a fine fortune, and her father
had some influence under government. But Gibbon
postulated a wife he could talk to, and after sacrificing
a morning, mainly from curiosity, to Miss Fanny, his
verdict was that she was cheerful and chatty but with-
out much intelligence, while her education, like her
sister's, had been totally neglected. He was not likely
to find another Suzanne in Hampshire.

However, Gibbon and his father were on the brink of
events which were to put travel out of the question for
two years, and though neither the idea of marriage, as
we have just seen, was completely dismissed, nor did
Mr Gibbon abandon his parliamentary plan during
these years, yet at the end of them it was not either
of these projects that held the field but the patiently
cherished tour.

Gibbon himself was surprised at the ease with which
he finally won his father's consent to a tour, 1 and it does
not seem improbable that his concession was a reward
for the indispensable services which the inexperienced,
bookish, half-foreign young man rendered to the Major
and his Colonel during these two years of unexpected
bustle and constraint.

By Hawke's victory in Quiberon Bay in November
1759 the fear of invasion which had reigned when the
Gibbons accepted their commissions had disappeared.
Early in 1760 it was even possible to plan going abroad
in the following winter. But as so often happens, the
impetus given to the military machine continued after
the need for it had gone, and in May 1760 more militia
battalions were called out, in addition to the thirty-six
already in being. Among these was the South Battalion

1 Gibbon's Journal, p. 196.

108

THE MILITIA

of Hampshire, and Captain Gibbon went to Alton to
put his company 'in proper order to march'.

At the beginning of his service Gibbon was so far
taken with the novelty of it as to think of transferring
into the Regular Army. By the end of eight months he
was disillusioned. Yet he carried on with spirit and
application for the rest of the time, and when at last he
was free he expressed his exultation temperately enough
in saying that he was glad the Militia had been and glad
that it was no more. He even allowed himself a slight
regret that they had not continued another year, for they
could promise themselves that they would be one of the
best militia corps by next summer.

There was everything to tempt a man who had little
taste for soldiering to let things go. Little interest was
taken in these corps by the powers above. They moved
about at the 'capricious and arbitrary* directions of the
War Office for no very obvious purposes, and the only
practical service they rendered was the occasional
guarding of French prisoners, a depressing and ex-
hausting duty which involved the men in conditions
only less disgusting than that of their unfortunate cap-
tives. In such circumstances it was impossible to expect
any enthusiasm among the officers.

Nominally this constitutional army was officered by
the nobility and gentry of England. Actually the bat-
talions fell away from this high ideal, and, as Gibbon
complains, instead of men of property, raw boys were
taken without a shilling. Sometimes they were worse
than that. One of Gibbon's brother officers had been
tried for theft at Dorchester Assizes and only narrowly
acquitted. The adjutant forced on them by the Duke
of Bolton had been a prize-fighter and an ale-house
keeper. Moreover, men of property or not, they were
not congenial society: *No manners, no conversation,
they were only a set of fellowes, all whose behavior was

109

EDWARD GIBBON

low and most of whose characters were despicable.
Luckily I was their superior in every sense/ One friend-
ship was formed with a brother officer, John Butler
Harrison, *a young man of honour, spirit and good
nature. The virtues of his heart make amends for his
having none of the head/ Once in a drunken day
Gibbon nearly quarrelled with him ; but he kept up with
him in after-years and amid divergent interests, and felt
his death keenly in 1767.

Gibbon is severe and perhaps priggish about his com-
panions. He might have blamed them less for having
'neither the knowledge of scholars nor the manners of
gentlemen* if they had surpassed him as soldiers. They
clearly did not.

The Colonel did not give them a good lead. Sir
Thomas Worsley might be admired as 'a man of fashion
and entertainment', yet his presence in the mess was the
signal for heavy drinking, and the men's clothing, his
special interest, was reduced to a chaotic state. For-
tunately he absented himself for long periods. When he
went to Spa in 1762 he entertained Gibbon the whole
day with a long detail of sensible schemes he would
never execute and schemes he would execute which
were highly ridiculous.

Then there was the Major, as Gibbon generally refers
to his father, especially when he has to criticise him.
The Major's weakness was at drill. 'We had a most
wretched field day. Major, officers and men seemed to
try which should do worst/ But like the Colonel, he too
was a frequent absentee, and at one time thought of
resigning his majority, provided his son could have it.
Yet with characteristic inconsistency, when the hour of
demobilisation approached he was as full of regrets
as the young adventurers who had everything to lose
by the peace.

Pavillard had remarked that anything that Gibbon took

I 10

THE MILITIA

up he did thoroughly. If the young man was now con-
scious of his superior talents he did not hesitate to apply
them to the work to which he had committed himself.
That work was by no means confined to the captaincy
first of an ordinary company, then of the Grenadiers
which was his official status throughout. At the outset
of their mobilisation a quarrel destined to be 'prolix
and passionate' broke out between Sir Thomas and the
Duke of Bolton, the Lord-Lieutenant of the County
and Colonel of the North Battalion, who claimed the
colonelcy of the South as well. It was largely a matter
of politics and patronage. The Duke was a Whig;
Sir Thomas with the Gibbons in support was a Tory.
Correspondence and memorials ensued, and young
Captain Gibbon as the scholar of the regiment had to
undertake this task entirely. In a short time it would
seem that everything connected with the administration
of the battalion came to him and was accepted not un-
willingly. To use his own words^ he became 'Sir
Thomas's prime minister and in fact commanded the
Battalion'.

Whatever depressed reflexions he might make on the
life there can be no question of the closeness and liveli-
ness of his attention. He can write of their doings with
evident enthusiasm:

* We had a field day by Mr. Kneller's desire, who came over to
see us, and I never desire to see a better. The weather was
charming and the ground good. After going thro' the manual
which they did with great spirit I put them . . . thro* a variety of
evolutions. ... At the volley I made them recover their arms,
not a piece went off. We ended as usual by marching by to
salute. Upon that occasion the men marched and the officers
saluted, better than ever I saw them.*

Equally unmistakable is his wounded self-esteem in the
following:

in

EDWARD GIBBON

'The Battalion was out, officers but no powder. It was the
worst field day we had had a good while, the men were very
unsteady, the officers very inatentive and I myself made several
mistakes.'

And what a true militiaman he showed himself when the
chance came of criticising the regulars. There were
Oswald's Green Hunters men and discipline equally
bad. The Queen's Rangers 'marched in very good
order, and considering circumstances were very toler-
able men. Their Grenadier company indeed was but
indifferent.' And in the very last days of service he
makes a triumphant comparison with the I4th Foot:

'They an old Corps of regulars We, part of a young body

of Militia. Every advantage was on their side, and yet our
superiority, both as to appearance and discipline was so striking,
that the most prejudiced regular could not have hesitated a
moment.'

In addition to their disputes and the accompanying
court-martials, the uncertain moves of the first eight
months, from Winchester to Blandford, then to Hillsea
and finally to Cranbrook and Dover, and the pernicious
duty of guarding French prisoners at Portchester were
enough to damp enthusiasm. But the winter passed
pleasantly at Dover. Entertaining the officers of the
1 4th and their wives was expensive. But there was
plenty of time for reading and writing. An interruption
came in March when Gibbon went back to Buriton for
the Petersfield election.

The only reference to Gibbon's candidature on this
occasion is in his Journal. We have also a copy pub-
lished after his death by a Petersfield printer of the
speech which he made declining a poll. But it does not
throw more light on the matter man to promise that
the candidate would have been an admirable member.

112

THE MILITIA

Some freeholders of Petersfield had persuaded Gibbon's
father to stand against the interest of Jolliffe, whom
Gibbon often refers to in his letters as the king of Peters-
field. The Major declined in his son's favour. Gibbon
records:

*I had never any opinion of the affair and was only comforted
by the reflexion that it cost hardly any thing. One Barnard of
Alresford made me lose the Election or rather gave me an
opportunity of giving it up with honor.'

On the ist April 'The Election came on. I, in a set
speech, thanked my friends, abused Barnard and de-
clined a poll.'

After this escape a quiet month was spent at home
reading and preparing the Essai for the press, until
Gibbon set out with his father and Mrs Gibbon to rejoin
the battalion by easy stages. At Dover he had the
pleasure of seeing his father at the head of a deputation
receiving Richelieu's secretary on his way to open
negotiations in London. In the spring there were
parties on Captain Blyke's yacht. On an excursion to
see the Newark in the Downs they were becalmed,
eventually getting to Margate at two in the morning,
'where we dined and the weather proving rough, re-
turned to Dover by land thro* Sandwich. I read severall
odes of Horace and compared them critically with
Dryden's translations/

In the following summer came the most splendid
period of the corps when they joined the great camp on
Flowerdown at Winchester. The season culminated in
a grand review of the line by the young Duke of York,
when the South Hants 'distinguished themselves by
their dirty appearance and excellent fires far beyond the
rest of the line 1 . When they arrived in a camp con-
sisting of far more experienced units, itwas apprehended
that they could never take their place in the line. But

113 i

EDWARD GIBBON

the Dorsets lent them N.C.O.'s, and the men being will-
ing great progress was made by them and also by the
officers, with the exception, alas, of the Major, the
adjutant and a captain. But their appearance was on
more than one occasion a sore disappointment to
Gibbon who cared now, as later, considerably for such
things.
But clothes or no clothes Winchester camp was a

*new and lively scene during the summer, a charming dry spot
of ground, pur tents convenient and agreable by their novelty.
Five counties assembled and living in a mighty free friendly
way; except some slight jealousies between the right and left
wings.'

There was also more varied and more brilliant society
Sir George Saville, Sir Willoughby and Lady Aston,
Lord and Lady Tracy, Colonel and Lady Harriet Con-
yers to grace their assemblies and parties in the mess.
There was the zest of preparing for the review:

'The whole line was out for the first time but only with ser-
geants and wooden snappers. As this was the only time I was a
Spectator, I must say they made a very fine appearance.'

And at last on the 29th September the Duke of York
came. The review was prudently very simple and the
troops much commended, though Gibbon thought they
had done better before Lord Effingham on the previous
day. This was attributable to the Duke's childish be-
haviour. He upset the men and slighted the officers.
Thelps, the Brigade Major, appeared likewise very
little to his honor/

Three days later came a further climax for the Captain
and an event certainly unique in the militia camp. The
scheming Major saw a chance for advertising his son.
If he could not or would not go into Parliament, diplo-
macy should be open to a young man who had just
published a book in French. He should presient it to

114

THE MILITIA

the Duke. It looks as if lie acted on the spur of the
moment. The battalion had just returned from a field
day, and Gibbon, book in hand but 'somewhat dis-
ordered with sweat and dust, in the cap, dress, and
acoutrements of a captain of Grenadiers', was passed
into Colonel Pitt's tent where the Duke was at breakfast.

'He received it courteously, asked me whether I had wrote it
since I was in the militia, and how lone I had been about it;
promised to read it and gave it to Sir William Boothby.*

Gibbon was glad to have been in camp once. But they
were kept there too long. It was another matter when
the cold weather began and the officers were crowded
into the suttling booth where noise and nonsense
reigned all day long. In such conditions it was some-
thing to have read a treatise on the Roman Legion, Soame
Jenyns on the Origin of Evil and an essay on ancient
painting. At last in October, when they thought they
were forgotten, they were sent to Devizes for the winter.
The gentlemen of Wiltshire proved inhospitable; in two
months Gibbon did not remember dining or sleeping
away from quarters. In December he passed six weeks
of leave at home, during which he never went visiting,
hunting or walking. *My only resources were myself,
my books and family conversation. But to me these
were great resources.'

When Gibbon returned early in 1762 he found dis-
cipline had gone to pieces largely through the presence
of a regular unit, the Black Musketeers. He promptly
ordered Ensign Smith extra duty for being absent with-
out leave, and twenty-one court-martials in four months
against ten in five at Dover tell their tale. But the war
was coming to an end and the Militia was almost for-
gotten. Gibbon himself was on leave for a great part of
the year, and when present was frequently commanding
officer. Their movements were few. The battalion

115

EDWARD GIBBON

remained at Devizes until February. After a short stay
at Salisbury they returned *to our beloved Blandford 4
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]'.

In the absence of instructions from above, they passed
the time at Blandford in holding field days for the
entertainment of wealthy West Indians and passing
lords. At Southampton once more came the loathed task
of guarding prisoners. But Gibbon had little to do with
that, and in the remainder of the summer was able to
do his duty from home. It consisted almost entirely of
trying to apply the recruitment clauses of the Militia
Acts to a reluctant population. Whole days were
wasted. On one occasion Gibbon was out from
seven in the morning till ten at night. It was pretty
good to have read about a hundred lines of the Iliad
as well.

A call to sit on a general court-martial at Reading in
April of this year was a diversion and a valuable experi-
ence. Among others Gibbon made the acquaintance of
Wilkes. He had scarcely ever met a better companion ;
one of inexhaustible spirits, infinite wit and humour
and a great deal of knowledge. But his character and
conversation were scandalising, and Gibbon is careful
to note that when later the colonel of the Buckingham-
shire dined with them he was not one with Sir Thomas
and others who broke into Wilkes' room and made him
drink a bottle of claret in bed. 1

It was all in keeping that when disbandment became a
certainty the battalion should be thrown into new con-
fusions. Young Ensign Hall, aged sixteen, had to be

1 Op. ctt. p. 145. Sheffield carefully edited the account of this evening in
Misc. Wks*, 1796. According to Maltby, WQkes then said that Gibbon must
have been drunk when he wrote this account. Maltby said Wilkes would
have called Sheffield out if he had seen what was printed in the 1814 edition.
Rogers, Table Talk, p. 351.

1 16

THE MILITIA

sent away hurriedly for fear that he should be arrested
for debt after he had lost an officer's privilege.

'Sir Thomas came down from London. When he was absent
we differed settling our affairs till he came, and when he came
we found he was of no use to us. Indeed everything was in a
strange confusion.'

Gibbon was not present at the final disembodiment of
the companies, when the men fired three volleys, received
their money, partook of a dinner at the Major's expense,
and then separated with great cheerfulness and regu-
larity.

When Gibbon had been in the Militia about fourteen
months he began what was proposed to be an exact
journal of his actions and studies. This was intended
both to assist his memory and to accustom himself to
set a due value on his time. As it turned out his memory
had frequently to assist his journal, since he fell far
behindhand with it more than once. 1 Nevertheless he
kept it with increasing fullness down to his arrival in
Paris, 28th January 1763. Henceforward he wrote in
French.

The greater part of the English portion is taken up
with recording and discussing his reading and his own
literary projects. In fact during his periods of leave at
Buriton there is very little else. In spite of long periods
when duty and dissipation, which was almost a duty,
left time for nothing else, the balancing of the account
'not of money but of time* at the end of each year
was not unsatisfactory 'after making proper allowances* ;
a favourite phrase. 1760, it is true, was almost a total
loss. But for the next year 'four books of Homer in
Greek, six of Strabo in Latin, Cicero De Natura Deorum

* See Gibbon** Journal, Introduction, pp. xix sqq.
117

EDWARD GIBBON

and the great philosophical and theological work of M.
de Beausobre', besides a number of smaller books and
articles, was not unsatisfactory considering the many
distractions. Naturally the following year showed a far
more gratifying profit, and his choice of reading was
directed by more settled aims. He read most of the
Iliad twice and consulted a great number of authorities
on Greek antiquities connected with it. Longinus was
read too, with Burke's Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful
and Kurd's Horace, and he records some meditations
on the subject of prose rhythm.

At the same time he had not forgotten his ambition to
write history. In the summer of 1 76 1, after considering
the potentialities of Charles VIII's expedition into
Italy, Richard Fs Crusade, the war of King John and
the Barons, the Black Prince, a comparison of Titus and
Henry V, lives of Sir Philip Sidney or Montrose, he had
at last fixed on Sir Walter Raleigh. But in the following
summer he felt obliged to drop his hero. He found that
he could add little to the existing life by Oldys, poor
performance though that might be, while he would
hesitate to eke out his work by digressions into con-
temporary history which had already occupied such men
as Walpole, Robertson and Hume. Moreover, he fore-
saw two special dangers. He shrank from a topic which
would be modern enough for his readers to expect him
*to hoist a flag of party' ; a more potent fear was that
Raleigh was a domestic subject which would be received
with an indifference abroad 'far more bitter than censure
or reproach'.

With such ambitions in view he reviewed two other
subjects. The most attractive would be the History of
the Liberty of the Swiss.

'From such a subject, so full of real virtue, public spirit, mili-
tary glory, and great lessons of gouvernment, die meanest writer
would catch fire. What might not I hope for, who to some

118

THE MILITIA

talents perhaps add an affection for the nation which would
make me labour the composition con amoreS

But his enthusiasm was checked on reflecting that his
materials were 'fast locked in the obscurity of an old
barbarous German dialect', which he could not make up
his mind to learn for that purpose alone. The passage
is typical of Gibbon's ethical and aesthetic approach to
history. So too are his reflexions on the alternative a
History of Florence under the Medici. He contrasts
the rise of the Swiss, a poor virtuous state, to glory and
liberty with the republic which in wealth and corruption
loses its independence and sinks into the arms of a
master. 'Both lessons equally useful/ And he adds:

* what makes this subject still more precious are two fmemorceaux
for a Philosophical historian, and which are essential parts of it,
the Restoration of Learning in Europe by Lorenzo de Medicis
and the character and fete of Savonarola. The Medicis em-
ployed letters to strengthen their power and their enemies
opposed them with religion/

Not the least significant are the books which are
classified as the amusements of his leisure hours. They
include besides a mass of learned journals such diver-
sions as Barclay's Argents, a Latin allegorical novel
which entertained Cowper, a Life of Erasmus and some
of his books, and especially Voltaire's Stick de Louis
XIV and the works of Fbntenelle.

It is often assumed rather easily that Gibbon was a
disciple of Voltaire; it is even said that his acquaintance
with the actor of Mon Repos was the starting point of
his religious scepticism. Such a statement is very wide
of the mark, and Voltaire's influence either on Gibbon's
philosophy or history should be admitted with great
reserve. Gibbon admired Voltaire as a dramatist im-
mensely* He thought part of Merope was equal to
Racine. He valued him much less as a historian, finding

119

EDWARD GIBBON

him superficially brilliant but unwilling to undertake
severe research and at the same time an indifferent nar-
rator. These opinions, expressed in the Journal, are
reinforced by a mass of pugnacious notes in The Decline
and Fall. In these Voltaire is repeatedly assailed for his
want of logic and for his partiality, 'In his way Voltaire
was a bigot, an intolerant bigot.' He could lavish praise
on a philosophical Turk who retired from the world,
which he would have refused to a Christian prince re-
tiring to a monastery. 1 Far deeper went the impression
made by Fontenelle.

At Blandford in May 1 762 Gibbon read six volumes
of Fontenelle 'with great pleasure*. This remarkable
man, whose life came within a month of a hundred
years, has been likened to the old man in Virgil's
Eclogues who, having been admitted into the secrets of
the gods, sang to a golden lyre of the creation of the
world and its laws while young shepherds and shep-
herdesses crowned him with flowers. He was in fact the
lady's man of science, the first to popularise abstruse
knowledge which he made acceptable to the marquises
by adorning it with the lei esfrit of a vanishing period.
For in his long life he had seen the world pass from a
state of indifference and even hostility towards the
sciences into the dawn of the fhilosophes whose spiritual
father he himself was. He was cold and equable in
temperament, unusually free from prejudice, a single-
hearted champion of reason and rigorous method, who
discerned and expressed for the various sciences their
common goal in the rational explanation of the uni-
verse. The random curios which the Ashmoles of the
last age had assembled must be ultimately transformed
into a select and classified museum. Such a mind would

* The Dec&te and Folly c. Ixvii. n. 13, also xlvii. n. 118, Iviii. n. 65, IxviiL
n. 25. There are probably more references to Voltaire tfrap to any other
modern writer in The Decline and Fall, and most are combative.

I 2O

THE MILITIA

be naturally stimulating to a young man designing to
win the world's ear. But Fontenelle had something
particular to offer to a historian.

In France as in England the debate had raged upon
the comparative merits of the ancient and modern
worlds. It had been largely a Battle of the Books.
Fontenelle raised and disposed of a deeper issue than
that of rival literary values. With his conception of the
progress of knowledge he combined a belief in the con-
stancy of human nature based on a general acceptance
of the stability and continuity of natural forces. Man
neither degenerated essentially from one age to another
nor improved. If centuries and peoples varied strikingly
in their degrees of barbarism or culture it was to be
explained by the accident of time and other external
conditions. A man famous for his discoveries may be
luckier than others in preceding them in time; he is not
necessarily of superior ability. 'Refinement or coarse-
ness/ Fontenelle makes Socrates say in his dialogue
with Montaigne, 'knowledge or ignorance, the varying
degrees of a certain naivety, a serious or frivolous out-
look of mind are merely the externals of man, and all
that changes. But the heart never changes, and the
whole man is in his heart/ The influence of this con-
ception is visible at large in Gibbon's work. 1

In his Histoire des Oracles y Fontenelle starts a line of
historical enquiry which runs very close to that of the
once shocking Dr. Middleton. Christians had long held
that the ancient oracles had been genuine in so far as
they were the work of demons. Fontenelle destroys this
notion and disposes of the oracles as so much quackery
and imposture. Gibbon was right in judging die work
superficial. The essay nevertheless was daring enough in
its criticism of some of the Fathers, to be an adventure

1 Fontenelle, Dialogues des Morts; Socrate, Montaigne. See also Bury, The
Idea of Progress, pp. 98 sqq^ and Sainte-Beirre> Lurufa, iii. 320.

121

EDWARD GIBBON

which was never repeated. There can be little doubt
that Fontenelle's influence on Gibbon would entitle him
to be mentioned not far behind those to whom the
historian has avowed his debt explicitly.

Gibbon is revealed with an eye for country and a turn
for concise characterisation in this regrettably brief
Journal.

He sees the world, it is true, through the glasses of
contemporary taste. Nature is subservient to man's
designs. From the terrace at Cliveden 'you command a
most glorious prospect of the adjacent country, thro'
which the Thames serpentines in a manner on purpose
for this house*. His most complete landscape is a setting
for some quiet comedy:

*Mr. and Mrs. Porteman, young Chafin the Clergyman, my
father, Mrs. Gibbon and myself set out one way, the Battalion
marched under Captain Eyer's command to Winbourn, and Sir
Thomas went up to London. We first drove to Lord Shaftes-
bury's, as fine as a flat well can be. The winding river is beauti-
ful, tho' the Chinese bridge is criticised as too high and too near
one end of it. The house appears excessively large but very
irregular. We did not see the inside. His Lordship came out
to ask us in, but the invitation was so feint that we declined it.
One of the great artificial beauties here is the Grotto, containing
a vast variety of curious shells, disposed with great taste. From
this place to Mr. Sturt's, where we saw an artificial piece of
water of two hundred acres, and an elegant turret a hundred
and forty foot high; but such is the character of the man, that he
keeps his place in no order, sells his fish and makes a granary of
his turret From thence we drove to a pretty little pkce of Mr.
Fitch's, Mrs. Porteman's brother. There we eat a very agree-
able cold dinner at a seat in the garden just by a Cascade, and
after we had passed a most agreable day, they set us down at
Winbourne and carried Mrs. Gibbon back to Bryanstone.' l

1 Gibbon* s Journal, p. 78, 3ist May 1762.
122

THE MILITIA

It was the characters that he encountered who in-
terested him most. A succession of shrewdly touched
sketches are scattered through these pages. He was
particularly interested in the country gentlemen and
what they were likely to achieve. Sir Gerard Napier is
found to be *a proud ill-tempered fool', from which it is
deduced that the improvements he contemplates for his
estates are likely to be *a mixture of grandness and little-
ness with more expence than taste'. The portrait of Mr
Pley dwell is kinder:

* He is a very good-natured country gentleman, affable to every-
body, indifferent as to his company and ready to do whatever
they please. In a word a most excellent candidate for a County.
His wife is a little ill-natured thing that seems to torment him
continually.*

Gibbon was fond of posing husband and wife together
and viewing them with a bachelor's relish. His master-
piece is that of Mr Crop, the Mayor of Southampton,
and his wife :

*Crop is an honest fellow in the Tory sense of the wordj he
drinks hard, rails against all ministers and keeps alive the small
remains of Jacobitism at Southampton. Even Sir Thomas
thinks him too violent. A cela prts, he is most impenetrably
stupid. His wife is a merry, good-natured woman, but one who,
in her conversation, respects altogether as litde the laws of
truth as the patience of her hearers.' x

If only the diarist had persevered with his art, what
portraits might not his sketch-book have contained of
J ohnson and Boswell, Goldsmith, Reynolds and Garrick
and a score of others.

What of the artist's portrait of himself? We have seen
him going about duties which he disliked but was in-
capable of neglecting, all too conscious of his superiority
to his fellow officers. He was conceited certainly, but

1 Of. cif. p. 144. C too the portrait of Sir Matthew and Lady Featherstoa.

123

EDWARD GIBBON

only at the price of setting the highest standards for
himself. 'While every one looks on me as a prodigy of
application/ he wrote in August 1762 with reference
to his studies, 'I know myself how strong a propensity I
have to indolence/ He has an almost religious sense of
the value of time. Once when on a rare occasion he
indulged himself in 'the pleasure of rambling about that
fine cliff of PortemanY and lost most of the morning, he
felt the reproach, which no one but himself could have
inflicted, of having reviewed no more than four hundred
and fifty lines of the Iliad.

This rare relaxation had occurred on his twenty-sixth
birthday and he sets down what he claims to be an
impartial examination. He could have had no con-
sciousness of having wronged anyone when he wrote
that his character was 'incapable of a base action, and
formed for generous ones'. But he finds 'that it was
proud, violent and disagreeableinsociety'. This issevere,
and though he mentions a drunken quarrel with Jack
Harrison, his only close friend in the Militia, he gives
no hint otherwise that he did not get on well with
those with whom he had to associate. In the crowded
suttling booth one can imagine the stupid questions
and perhaps mock reverence about things they did
not understand when the young Captain produced
those incomprehensible books of his. He entrenched
himself behind a disdainful reserve.

Of the benefits of the service he makes no conceal-
ment The active life established his health. He learnt
a great deal about his fellow men and their affairs, and
was made an Englishman once more. He never forgot
that he had been a soldier, and though he could smile
at his 'bloodless campaign^ was none the less proud of
it, and one cannot help feeling that amid all the tedium
the zealous Captain was unconsciously satisfying that
tribal instinct which will often make a man acquiesce in

124

THE MILITIA

belonging to some corporate society even if he lias
hardly a good word to say for it.

Within a week of demobilisation Gibbon had obtained
his father's consent to spending two years abroad and
lost no time about his preparations, going over to Good-
wood at once to obtain from the Duke of Richmond an
introduction to the Duke of Bedford, the British Am-
bassador in Paris, This consent was obtained easily
enough in the end; in fact the Major had opened the
subject in September, at a time when Gibbon was nerving
himself to propose it. A foreign tour had also been in
contemplation still earlier in the year, when the Major
had offered to raise his son's annuity to 400 a year, with
afurther jioo ayear for two years abroad. But the trans-
action on which this offer was based fell through, and
Gibbon reflected philosophically on the loss of his pro-
spective increase that it was not the sort of misfortune
he felt very greatly. 1

Yet the state of dependency in which he was, arising
especially from his father's uncertain nature both in
regard to making plans and to carrying out what he had
undertaken, was to remain intermittently embarrassing
for a long while to come.

In June he had received a letter from his friend Dey-
verdun. Gibbon had not forgotten him but was afraid
he was forgotten. Deyverdun was now governor to a
German prince's son, but was regretting he had not
accepted some offer that Gibbon had made of bringing
him to England,

* Deyverdun*, Gibbon writes in his Journal, 'from his character
and way of thinking is the only friend I ever had who deserved
that name. I wish I could find out any scheme of our living

1 Op . cit. pp. 46, 66, 137, 196.

125

EDWARD GIBBON

together, but I am afraid it is impossible in my present state of
dependance.'

A month later the entry runs :

*I finished my letter of eight pages to Deyverdun, it is a kind
of pleasure I have not had a great while, that of pouring out my
whole soul to a real friend. Why I deferred writing and the
schemes I proposed to him are not to be trusted even to this
paper.' I

In a little over a month from ids liberation from the
Militia Gibbon was in Paris. Once his father's consent
was gained he did not waste time. Leave was taken of
Mrs Gibbon 'with the mixture of joy and grief which
one always feels upon those occasions'. During three
weeks spent in London with his father, a variety of
diversions were enjoyed snug parties with Aunt
Porten a night at Captain Crookshank's, where 'the
supper was so elegant and the wines so various and
powerful that I could but just walk home at four a clock
in the morning' a brilliant party at Lady Hervey's,
where he was not in spirits and had a very small share
in the conversation. Lady Hervey gave him introduc-
tions for Mme Geoffrin and the Comte de Caylus, and
through Dr. Maty he was presented to the Due de
Nivernois, who gave him letters to various French
scholars. Nivernois, who had asked Maty to present
the author of the Essai> not unnaturally treated him
'more as a man of letters than as a man of fashion' and
wrote his letters in the same tone.

On the 23rd of January 1763 Gibbon set out on his
travels and reached Canterbury. At Dover he fell in
with the Duke of Bridgewater and Lords Tavistock and
Ossory and they agreed to his going with them on a
yacht they had hired. Setting sailat five in the morning
they were unable to make Calais, their intended port,
and only got to Boulogne at three in the afternoon.
1 Of. cit. pp, 82 and 92.
126

THE MILITIA

The road to Paris was already overcharged with
Englishmen hastening to enjoy the first-fruits of the
peace. There were not horses to go round. So Gibbon
set out alone and got to Abbeville. He visited Van
Robais' cloth factory there, and after passing Amiens
and stopping at Bertueil reached Paris about five in the
afternoon of 28th January. Busbequius' travels in the
Near East, in Latin, entertained him on the road.

127

Chapter g

PARIS

1763

unpublished portion of a Paris letter depicts
JL Gibbon's new situation:

PARK, "February 24^, 1763
'DEAR SIR,

'I received your letter about 1 2 days after its date owing as I
apprehend to Mr. Foley's negligence. As I am now settled
there is no farther occasion to make use of that Channel. Mjr
direction is A Monsieur, Monsieur Gibbon Gentilhomme Anglais
a f hotel de Londres rue du Colombier, Fauxbourg St Germain &
Paris. 1 You see I am still in that part of the town and indeed
from all the intelligence I could collect I saw no reason to
change either upon [the score] of cheapness or pleasantness.
Madame Bontems, Mrs. Mallet's friend and a Marquis de
Mirabeau I got acquainted with at her house have acted a very
friendly part, tho' all their endeavours have only served to con-
vince me that Paris is unavoidably a very dear place. Myaparte- .
ment (up two pair of stairs) consists in an Antichamber, a dining
room, a bed chamber and a servant's room, and stands me in six
Guineas a month! Apropos of servants Suess turns out an
exceedingly good one and I have all the reason in the world to be
highly satisfied with him. But the most expensive article is my
coach. There is at present such a concourse of strangers at Pans
that the hirers of coaches hardly know what to ask. In spite of
all the enquiries of my friends I have not been able to get mine
under sixteen guineas a month. It is indeed a very elegant

1 The rue du Colombier is now me de rUniversite*. Gibbon was not doing
so badly with his arrangement. William Cole paid four guineas a month for
one room and a servant's room in the same quarter: Cole's Paris Journal,

i. 35. Gibbon in 1777 paid 364 francs for a month's lodging, />. about 22:
oll. Papers.

128

PARIS

vis-A-vis and I have seen a great deal more given for equipages
inferior to it. I have made one suit here, a velvet of three
colours, the ground blue. I am sorry to find my English cloaths
look very foreign here. The French ones are all excessively long
waisted. At present we are in mourning for the Bishop of Lifege,
the King's Uncle, and expect soon another of a singular nature,
that of the Old Pretender, who is very ill. They mourn for him
not as a crowned head but as a relation of the King's. I am
doubtfull how the English here will behave. Indeed we can
have no difficulties since we need only follow the example of the
Duke of Bedford.' i

The postscript, also unpublished, gives what was al-
most his only cause of dissatisfaction:

*P.S. I have seen very little of the English noblemen I came
over with, beyond an exchange of visits. I have not yet had one
invitation from the D. of B. I wish you would tell the D. of R.
of it. Tho' indeed it is a general complaint.'

That is not the only reference to the British Am-
bassador's neglect. But wounded vanity was buta scratch
on the surface of Gibbon's deep satisfaction. In three
weeks he had heard more memorable conversation and
had met 'more men of letters among the people of
fashion* than he had in all his months in London. He
was absorbed into Parisian society at its freest and most
hospitable period and the number of his acquaintance
was increasing daily. He could pick and choose among
them. 'Next Sunday for instance I have only three
invitations to dinner/

It was said in those days that a foreigner did not know
Paris until he had been received at Mme Geofiiin's, and
it was one of Mme Geoffrin's innovations in the ways
of the salon that she admitted foreigners regardless of
their social rank provided they had some claim to be
noticed. 2 Gibbon lost no time in presenting himself,

1 The beginning of Letter XVI, Misc. Wks. ii. 54. From Captain G. C.
Onslow's papers.
a P. de S^guf, It Royaume de la rue St. Honor/, p. 51.

129 K

EDWARD GIBBON

armed not only with Lady Hervey's letter but with the
reputation of the Essai. This he considered his best
recommendation. He felt here, as he so often liked to
feel, that he was indebted only to himself.

*My book was very useful to me. I had the pleasure of seeing
that it was my best recommendation and of feeling that I was
only indebted to myself. It would savour of vanity to record in
this writing all the eulogies and compliments that it brought me.
It decided my status. I was a recognised man of letters, and it
is only in Paris that this quality forms a distinct status. I have
not sufficient vanity to believe myself free from it I admit un-
affectedly that after discounting these compliments and ex-
aggerations I can flatter myself that these eulogies were founded
on some degree of truth. The favourable way in which the
greatest part of the reviewers have spoken of me convinces me
that it is creditable to a young author and can inspire me with
some confidence for the future. But even if my Essay had not
much merit in itself, it was naturally bound to have some in the
eyes of the French. They love their own language and prefer it
unaffectedly to all others. Could one better court them than by
a homage as public as it was unique. The Germans have often
neglected their own language to write in French. No English-
man has ever done so unless one includes Count Hamilton, and
Ramsay, who though a Scotchman by birth had been naturalised
by a long residence in France.

'This reputation nevertheless caused me one small dissatisfac-
tion. It resulted in my being regarded solely as a man of letters.
That quality may be in itself the first in society, but I should
have liked to add to it that of a man of rank for which I have
such indisputable claims. I did not want the writer to eclipse
the gentleman entirely. Perhaps such vanity does me little
honour but I am not writing a panegyric. Perhaps too my
pride deceived me and I fancied I saw some attitude towards me
which only existed in my jealous imagination. In that case this
is the avowal of one more fault.' *

Writer or gentleman, Gibbon was received with a
kindness which should have laid to rest his uneasy

1 In this and the next three chapters extracts from Gibbon's Journal are
translated from the unpublished French MS.

130

PARIS

vanity. Let us hope that he entered Mme Geoffrin's
house with proper awe. His masters Montesquieu and
Fontenelle had been familiar here not so long ago, and
the company he found merited Sainte-Beuve's descrip-
tion of it as the great centre and rendezvous of the
eighteenth century. Here were men on whose criticism
of the past and belief in man's perfectibility a new age
might have been founded d'Alembert and Diderot,
d'Holbach and Helv&ius. Helv&ius took particular
notice of the young essayist, and at his house and
d'Holbach's was to be found the freer conversation and
the company of certain advanced spirits such as the
motherly Mme Geoffrin's 'capricious tryanny' would
not admit. Nor was talk the sole attraction. d'Holbach
gave excellent dinners, and Helv6tius had 'a very pretty
wife'. Gibbon may have been less concerned than
Morellet, who thought Mme Helv6tius 'upset philo-
sophical discussions badly with her sparkling beauty
and wit'. 1 But neither these impressive talkers nor their
agreeable setting dethroned the critic in Gibbon. He
refused to be intoxicated with their ideas and could not
'approve the intolerant zeal of the philosophers and the
Encyclopaedists the friends of d'Holbach and Helv6tius ;
they laughed at the scepticism of Hume, preached the
tenets of Atheism with the bigotry of dogmatists', and
'damned all believers with ridicule and contempt'. 2 An
eclipse of the sun at Lausanne in the following April
was the occasion of a similar reflexion. 'One rightly
smiles at eclipses nowadays, yet the incredulity of this
age is often as blind as the faith of its ancestors.' 3

A greater satisfaction was to be found in less austere
atmospheres. The breadth of Gibbon's acquaintance is
recited in a proud succession of names, and for us they

1 Morellet, Mtumrcs, p. 136, quoted by W. H. Wickwar, Baron cTHolbaclh
p. 26.
* Murray, p. 204. 3 MS. Journal, xst April 1764,

EDWARD GIBBON

are little else but names, of the Count de Caylus, the
Abb6s de la Bletterie, Barth&emy, Raynal, Arnaud,
Messieurs de la Condamine, Duclos, de Ste. Palaye, de
Bougainville, Caperonnier, de Guignes, Suard, etc.;
some were old friends through their books, all were dis-
tinguished in fields of knowledge especially dear to
Gibbon Greek and Roman history, Oriental travel,
archaeology and history. Here his highest expectations
were not disappointed. It is true that the Count de
Caylus, the supreme archaeologist among them, had
become too much of a recluse to help him much. Some-
what oddly and to his own subsequent regret he
neglected to make Buffon's acquaintance. But there
were many compensations. Barth61emy, whose Voyage
du jeune Anarcharsis en Grlce was a popular forerunner
of Hellenism, accompanied him to see the King's col-
lection of medals.

*The society of Madame du Bocage was more soft and moderate
than that of her rivals and the evening conversations of Mr. de
Foncemagne were supported bv the good sense and learning of
the principal members of the Academy of Inscriptions/

Here he found good sense and enlightenment combined
with ease and candour. *Je commence m'y 6tablir,' he
entered in his Journal, and a rare corroboration comes in
a letter from Mme de Verdelin to Rousseau recom-
mending Gibbon, whom she had met at de Fonce-
magne's, as having had a reputation for intelligence and
other good qualities. 1 It was a testimonial, as it hap-
pened, that Gibbon might have preferred to have re-
mained unwritten.

Gibbon had neither the money nor the inclination to
enter the more frivolously brilliant salons of the fin-
anciers such as Pelletier or La Popelini&re. He was
assiduous at the Th&tre Franfais, where he preferred

1 Dufour, Corr.-GAt. de J. J* Rousseau, ir. 289, dated 14 mai 1763.
132

PARIS

'the consummate art of the Clairon to the intemperate
sallies of the DumesniT. The opera and Les Italiens
were visited less often, for he had little taste for music.
At the beginning of his stay he did a little sober sight-
seeing. The modern tourist may compare his morning's
programme with his own. Gibbon made the round of
the library at St. Germain des Prds, les Invalides and
1'Ecole Militaire; then a glance at St. Sulpice. The full
horror of its fa9ade was not finished. Gibbon thought
it nevertheless one of the finest structures in Paris, a
judgment which follows rather disconcertingly close to
the dictum that 'the Catholic superstition which is al-
ways the enemy of reason, is often the parent of taste'.
And finally to the Carmelite church, where a close
examination of the monuments and pictures revealed
Gibbon's curiously matter-of-fact views of art. He
admired among other things

*a picture of the apparition of an angel to Joseph, father of Jesus
Christ. The dignity, sweetness and serenity of the envoy from
heaven are very well portrayed, also the state of Joseph, who is
buried in a deep slumber. Perhaps even his sleep is too profound.
He appears to feel nothing, and evinces none of those agitations
common to those whose senses are in truth at rest while the soul
is struck by some singular dream.'

He approved also of Le Brun's portrait of Mile de la
Valltere as the Magdalen, which contrived to depict
penitence without sacrificing beauty. And so to dinner
with Helv^tius and to Mme Boyer's evening. 1

His guide on this occasion was M. d'Augny, a young
officer of the Guards but an exceptional one, for

*he is as reserved, as little a man of the world, and as awkward
as I can be. But he has a fine natural understanding a clear

connection which will last as long as my life.'

1 Journal, zi fv. a Prathero, L 31.

133

EDWARD GIBBON

This was in a letter to Mrs Gibbon. In his Journal he
wrote:

'The better I know d' Augny the more I like him. I will wait
a little before attempting his portrait. But it seems we are suited
to one another. Already I begin to take on with him that tone
of intimacy and those confidences of heart and mind which are
not frequent in me.'

But the portrait was never written and M. d' Augny is
mentioned no more. Soon Gibbon's time and thoughts
were taken up with another friendship, this time with a
lady whom he describes to his family in the same letter
smugly enough :

'Madam Bontems is a very good sort of a woman, agreeable
and sans pretensions. She seems to have conceived a real motherly
attachment for me. I generally sup there three or four times a
week quite in a friendly family way/ I

The motherly relation seems to have been interpreted
generously and both Gibbon's Memoirs and Journal tell
a different and somewhat ambiguous story. In the first
we learn that

'in the middle season of life' [she was about forty-five] 'her
beauty was still an object of desire 5 the Marquis de Mirabeau,
a cdeorated name, was neither her first nor her last lover; but if
her heart was tender, if her passions were warm, a veil of decency
was cast over her frailties.*

Sheffield suppressed this and Birkbeck Hill, on reading
it, took his chance to say with Victorian zest that Gibbon
'indulged in a guilty passion'* Perhaps he did, but this
seems hardly the phrase to be given to the amorous
pottering which the Journal reveals.

There we find Gibbon very much in leading-strings
in the hands of this agreeable lady. She took him on
pleasant excursions to St. Denys, St Germain or Ver-

1 Prot&ero, i. 315 'family* is omitted there, but see Add. MSS. 34883.

134

PARIS

sallies or still more decorously to church. At the church
of St. Roche in the rue St. Honor6 they listened to P&re
Elyse on the uncertainty and futility of deathbed
repentances. We may imagine this odd pair coming out
of the church and standing on the steps in the rue St.
Honor6 just where, some thirty years later, Napoleon
was to fire 'the whiff of grape-shot' which ended the
Revolution. Gibbon was full of reflexions on the father's
eloquence, and ready to compare it with the cold
discourse which English preachers coldly delivered.
Mme Bontemps was a good Catholic and 'believed
firmly in the most contradictory mysteries and humbly
followed the most popular superstitions'. Yet her
heart, which had led her to this acquiescence, rebelled
against its conclusions. Her faith was especially
troubled by the notion that heretics were damned, and
she told her young Protestant as much a hundred times.

She had her place in literature as the translator of
Thomson's Seasons, but was without vanity or ambition
and refused to be drawn into literary discus'sions. She
preferred to confide her secrets to the young man, and in
return to advise and even scold him over his own affairs.
Their attraction was mutual, but the young man did not
or would not understand her advances. Was it in
despair perhaps that she made him read La Fontaine's
Tales to her? Alas for her, he respected her feeble re-
sistance to the freedom engendered by this elegant
titillation. 'With a little more boldness', he recorded,
*I might perhaps have succeeded.' He did not want to.
He preferred 'a delicious friendship' with the sermons
and the suppers sometimes ttte--t$te> sometimes with
M. Bontemps and M. de Mirabeau, whom he admired
considerably, judging him to have enough imagination
for ten men and not enough cool-headedness for one.

These reflexions appear to have been written at the
dose of his visit. On his return from Italy after a fort-

EDWARD GIBBON

night's stay he says 'he tore himself from the embraces
of Paris*. Sheffield again suppressed this, and those who
have in mind the ambiguous phrases of the Memoir al-
ready quoted may, if they like, put an extreme interpre-
tation on the words. But they must remember that
Gibbon at this time was much in attendance on Mme
Necker safely wedded from every point of view. It does
not seem to matter very much whether he was Mme
Bontemps' lover or not. He had learned one lesson
clearly enough. It was a lesson which he had begun
with his stepmother, though in that relationship its full
significance naturally could not be seen. It was that his
need for feminine companionship which was constant
throughout his life was best satisfied in the temperate
zone of friendship. We are as we are made in these
matters.

This friendship was perhaps the principal reason for
prolonging his stay to fourteen weeks, and Gibbon does
not deny that had he been rich and independent he
might have remained there indefinitely. But Paris was
expensive and he had to account for his doings at home.
He had already given Mrs Gibbon the agreeable task of
informing his father that he had drawn for another
hundred pounds, and we find him at last at bay to
questions and criticisms. He had not written to friends
of the family; he had written to Lord Lichfield; both
actions in their way having caused dissatisfaction. What
was he doing? Gambling? He could assure his father
that he had only lost seven livres, and that in one night
at picquet. Clothes of course he had to buy ruffles and
silk stockings in this capital of the fashionable world.
That was an expense now done with, and as he had pretty
well seen Paris he thought of setting out, if his father
had no objection, by way of Dijon and Besan^on for
Lausanne, where he would spend two or three cheap
months and prepare for his entry into Italy.

136

Chapter 10

SUZANNE CURCHOD AGAIN

1760-1763

TN FIVE years fortune had dealt Suzanne Curchod some
1 hard blows. Her father had died in 1760. The
smiling hillsides of Grassy were exchanged for Geneva,
where the pension allowed to the widow by the govern-
ment of Berne was supplemented by the daughter's
earnings. She gave lessons sometimes for seven hours
in one day, she was often ill and consumption was
feared; they were poor and without interest. 1

At Geneva Suzanne was drawn into the ardent cor-
respondence and confidences which teemed among the
friends and admirers of Rousseau. In 1761-2 she was
corresponding with Julie de Bondeli on the subject of
La Nouvelle Hiloise^ and Julie was creating an interest
among her correspondents about thfe orphan girl; 2 an
interest enhanced by mystery, since Suzanne s letters
contained confidences which could not be shown round.
Were they confidences concerning Gibbon? Probably
not, I think. Suzanne had sent Julie a precis of Gibbon's
Essai, and later Julie is reading the book when she re-
counts the anecdote already mentioned of Gibbon's
passionate absurdity and adds that neither this extrava-
gance nor his extreme ugliness will affect the merit of
his book. She writes as if the affair was well known and
done with, and she can hardly have got the impression

*P. Kohler, Mme de Stall et la Sidsse, c. L
3 . Bodeman, JvUe e von Bondeli itoid ihr Freundeskrtis.

137

EDWARD GIBBON

about Gibbon's looks from Mile Curchod. The book
interested her and her friends. Her only complaint
about it was that it was too short. At the end of 1762
she assures a correspondent, on the strength of Mile
Curchod's authority, that M. Gibbon has written no-
thing else. But whatever the confidences may have been,
she passes on one of her pen portraits as an example of
her friend's penetration and tour d* esprit. It was of the
minister, Paul Moultou.

This young Genevan clergyman he was about six
years younger than Suzanne was an enthusiastic and
faithful friend of Rousseau. He had married the
daughter of a merchant named Cayla, and it was through
this family that he became acquainted with the Cur-
chods. A close and confidential friendship was formed,
but one must not be misled into imagining these disciples
of Rousseau felt anything more than friendship. 1 'Ses
amis sont bien ses amis, mais que le nombre en est
petit! Ah, que je voudrais 6tre du nombre' is the frank
conclusion of Suzanne's portrait of Moultou. She did
not have to wait long to experience the worth of his
regard.

Her mother died in January 1763, and the pension
from Berne came to an end. There was a frail hope of
recovering some of Mme Curchod's property in France,
but in the meantime this girl, so attractive and accom-
plished, whose prospects had seemed so bright a few
years ago, was now only a little above the level of
destitution, dependent on her friends until she could
make her way in the only honourable occupation open
to her, the uninviting status of governess or dame de
compagnie,

There were offers of marriage, it is true. There had
been a M. de Montplaisir; there was a M, Correvon, a

1 As d'Haussonville op, cit. did. Moultou was an active intelligent man. He
corresponded with Voltaire in 1762-3 over Faff cure Colas.

138

SUZANNE CURCHOD AGAIN

lawyer who was humbly persistent. It seems fairly cer-
tain that Montplaisir had been rejected in favour of
Gibbon. It is not so clear whether the same reason
sufficed to dismiss Correvon or if his offer was not good
enough. Far less serious, but they must be mentioned,
were the attentions of a Genevese savant, G. L. Le Sage,
who is said to have equated his inability to finish his
treatises with innocent affairs with girls he called them
amouritits. He sometimes proposed, but if 'yes* was the
answer, would disentangle himself the next day. Manon,
Margot, Jacqueline and Sophie none of them took the
old gentleman seriously any more, no doubt, than did
Suzette, who must be added to the list and who was
Mile Curchod. He even noted in his diary that she told
him he was not rich enough to marry her. Too much
weight must not be put upon these diversions, but they
cannot be dismissed entirely, 1 and it may be that the
flirtation with Le Sage took place after her return from
France in 1763. But he was at least aware and interested
in her departure in that autumn.

Meanwhile Suzanne lived for some time in Cayla's
house looking after Moultou's children. It was Moul-
tou who wrote to Julie de Bondeli and others on her
behalf to announce her bereavement, who suggested and
looked into the prospects of a position in England, and
who finally attempted to interest Rousseau on her behalf.

Moultou was staying with Rousseau at Motiers-
Travers, not far from Neuchsltel, when Mmede Verdelin's
letter arrived announcing the imminent departure from
Paris of some Englishmen who wished to see Rousseau.
Among them might be M. Gibbon, whom she specially
recommended. Moultou saw this letter and immediately

1 Kohler, op* cit. pp. 18-19, 2 *~35 a^ 80 Meredith Reeuf 9 ii. p. 347. Moultou
in the letter to Rousseau cited below, p. 140, mentions that his father had
forwarded letters from Mile Curchod and Le Sage unsealed so that Rousseau
could read them.

139

EDWARD GIBBON

wrote to Mile Curchod. He gave the gist of Mme de
Verdelin's encomium in different words. 1 *Si M. Gibbon
est du nombre, recevez-le bien car c'est un homme d'un
trs grand m&ite et fort instruit/ Upon that he tells
her he had acquainted Rousseau with her story and
obtained from him a promise to speak to Gibbon if he
came. Not content with that, as soon as he left Rousseau,
he wrote to him on the 3ist May having had from
Suzanne a letter which made his heart bleed. Gibbon
had arrived at Lausanne, cold and unfeeling, as cured
of his old passion as Mile Curchod was far from being.
An Englishman who fancied himself in love with this
charming creature but was incapable of knowing true
love, had tried to prejudice Gibbon against her. With
touching faith in the power of the master's words
Moultou implored him to speak to Gibbon on Suzanne's
behalf* He must say how well known she was in
Geneva for her knowledge, her wit and above .all her
virtues, for Moultou knew nothing more pure or
celestial than her soul, and guaranteed the purity of his
own motives by his desire to settle her for good in
England. Rousseau, he adds, must be assumed to
know nothing of what had passed between the young
people. He has heard that Gibbon is starting at any
moment to visit Rousseau. The letter ends after a page
of other matter with a final appeal not to forget Mile
Curchod.

He enclosed a copy of this in a letter written on the
same day to Mile Curchod, in which he told her sensibly
enough that 'if this man is worthy of you he will return ;
if he is no good leave him alone, his loss is not worth one
of your regrets'.

^d'Haiissonville, op. ctt. i. 6$ sqq. Mme de Verdelin wrote, 14 mai 1763:
'Si M. Gibbon est du nombre, mon voisin, traitez-le bien; il est dit-on pleui
d'esprit et beaucoup de bonnes qualites; il a beaucoup vu ici M. de Fonce-
magne chez qui je 1'ai rencontre"* (Dufour, Corr. Ghi de J. J. Rousseau,
11.290).

I 4

SUZANNE CURCHOD AGAIN

How did they know so much about Gibbon's state of
heart, his intended movements, or the other young
Englishman's intervention? No correspondence sur-
vives between 1 759 and 1 763. Probably he wrote when
he sent her his Essai. Meredith Read gives a translation
of a long high-flown epistle and thinks that Gibbon had
wished to dedicate the Essai to Mile Curchod and that
she declined the honour. 1 This is very likely, and the
letter in Read is probably a dedicatory epistle sent for
her approval and consent. It has some close resem-
blances to the dedication to his father finally printed.
It is impossible, I think, to infer anything very definite
from Suzanne's references to some correspondence in
her letter of 23rd June which we are coming to. Gibbon
may have written from Paris announcing his coming.
He could not expect it to be a secret. Nor could he have
suspected the activity in the other camp which the news
of his coining aroused. It has been asked why he re-
turned to Lausanne at this time. The simple answer
seems to be that he had many ties with the place, and
thought that he was safe so far as Mile Curchod was
concerned. He knew his own mind even if he did not
know hers.

He reached Lausanne on the 25th May. On the 3Oth
Suzanne wrote a rather hysterical letter in which she
implored him to put her out of her misery by avowing
his indifference. She blushed deeply for this step and
implored him to secrecy. 2 She directed it to *M. Gibbon
gentilhomme anglais, chez M. de M&ery, k Lausanne'.

Whether there was any reply to this we do not know,
but in five days it was followed by another. In this she
tells him at length with calm reproach that his letter has

1 Meredith Read, ii. p. 333. Read says d'Haussonvflle gave him a copy of
this letter from the Due de Broglie'a archives.

a d'Haussonvflle, op. cit. i. 61. When this letter, with the other which
d'Haussonville quotes, was returned to Mile Curchod she wrote on it, 'A
thinking soul is punishment enough, and every thought draws blood'.

141

EDWARD GIBBON

disabused her. 1 He has returned to the ordinary rank
of men. Her romantic imagination had caused her to
sacrifice herself for a fictitious being who will never
exist. In future she will be as kind and as indifferent as
she is to all her friends and there will be no further
question of their old story. She will end it by some
necessary remarks.

These consist in asking for information on the pro-
spects of a dame de compagnie in England; in enclosing
some comments on his Essai as a first token of her
new friendship for him, together with an invitation to
Geneva to hear his praises from her mouth; and finally
in a conscious echo of Mme de Verdelin's letter. She has
heard that a number of English are leaving Paris for
Motiers. If that is his goal, and he would like a letter
for Rousseau, let him write to her for one since her best
friends are in close friendship with Rousseau, and she
would gladly prove her regard for him with such a
service.

The manoeuvre was too ingenuous, and had Gibbon
exposed himself to Rousseau's admonitions he could
not but have detected. the conspiracy. But he did not

?o; to Rousseau's relief if to no one else's. On the 4th
une, the same day that Mile Curchod was writing to
Gibbon, Rousseau sent a letter to Moultou disclaiming
his ability to help. He did not like Gibbon's coldness.
He did not like his book, finding in it a straining after
wit and afiFectation. Therefore Gibbon was not his man.

'I do not think he can be Mile. Curchod's. Who does not
realise her value is not worthy of her, but he who has known it
and can break off is a man to despise. She does not know what
she wants. This man serves her better than her own heart. I
would rather a hundred times that he should leave her poor and

1 The question is whether the letters referred to here are those written in
1758-9 or later ones. Birkbeck Hill) p. 294, assumes that his answer to her
note of 30th May had given her great pain. But this seems far from clear.

142

SUZANNE CURCHOD AGAIN

free in your midst, than to take her away to be unhappy and rich
in England. In truth I hope Mr. Gibbon will not come. I
should like to disguise my feelings, but I could not. I should
like to be of use, and I feel that I shall spoil everything.' I

This letter was published with initials only in Gibbon's
lifetime. He did not shrink from calling attention to it
in his Memoirs, giving the exact reference and adding:

*as an author I shall not appeal from the judgement or taste or
caprice of 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'. 2

This revelation at the end of his life cannot but have
confirmed his impression that he had been the object of
a designing girl, which, as J. M. Robertson suggested,
may well account for his complete silence about her in
this part of his Autobiography.

In his reply, written on the 23rd June, to Suzanne's
letter there is no mention of her offer concerning
Rousseau. He attributes his delay in answering to his
desire to study carefully her notes on his Essai, and with
solemn compliment assures her that perhaps for the
first time an author has enjoyed reading a criticism of
his works. He can give her no assurance about her
prospects in England beyond another solemn compli-
ment that she must earn esteem wherever she goes. In
all essential circumstances she would find him her
friend but firmly, perhaps coldly, certainly not ungently,
he declines her suggestion of a correspondence. Judg-
ing by himself he has come to the conclusion that it
would be dangerous for both of them. 3

Five days before he wrote this he had assured his step-
mother, upon disclosing his desire to pass the winter in
Lausanne, that no woman was in the feast concerned in

i Dufour, op. dt. is. 327. * Murray, p. 298.

3 d'Haussonville, op. cit. i. 68.

143

EDWARD GIBBON

this project and that he was cured of his old passion,
upon his word of honour.

If that was his state of mind, for whatever reasons, his
attitude towards Suzanne's proposals was only wise and
honourable.

An accident produced an unhappy epilogue. In the
next letter to Mrs Gibbon is a vivid and witty account
of a visit to Voltaire at Ferney. The great man in his
new r&le of country gentleman and even farmer had not
forgotten his old hobby. 'His playhouse is very neat
and well contrived, situated just by his Chappel, which
is far inferior to it, tho* he says himself "que son Christ
est du meilleur faiseur de tout le pays de Gex'V The
piece was the Orphan of China, an old favourite, and
Gibbon, fresh from the Paris theatres, sat quizzing the
hollow-voiced old ranter of seventy as he played the
Tartar Conqueror opposite his ugly old niece. The play
began at eight. A hundred people sat down to supper
from twelve to two. Then they danced till four, and
their coaches returned to the gates of Geneva just as
they were opening. Was there anything in history or
fable to compare with it?

Neither in this letter nor in his Journal does he men-
tion that he encountered Mile Curchod at Ferney. Nor
apparently did he think very much of the meeting, for
he was genuinely surprised to find some two months
later that he had set a train to a magazine which was
only then exploding. 1

1 The Swiss poet Bonstetten says that during a year he used to go to Ferney
every Saturday with M]Je Cufchod and Moultou: Souvenirs ae Ch. 7. ae
Banstetten, 1832. Voltaire was not generally reticent about his dramatic
activities. But at this period there are only two references. In a letter of 26th
July ((Euvnes, 1881, *Hi- 525) he says, 'Jfai voulu jouer un role de vieux
bonhomme sur mon petit th&tre; mais on ne m'entendait jplus. Je suis
oblige* de renoncer a cet agr&ble amusement, qui me consolait.' In a letter
to the Comte d'Argental of 6th August he says: 'JTai jou6 a 1'age de soixante-
diz arts Gengis-kan avec un applaudissement universe! Mme. Denis jouait
encore mieuz que xnoi, s'fl est possible*. Voltaire was writing to d'Argental

144

SUZANNE CURCHOD AGAIN

Perhaps Gibbon did behave coldly or pertly on this
occasion. Did not Mile Curchod very likely make some
mistakes on her side? Was she perhaps too eager, too
ready to rally him as we know she did on occasions?
One of these long August nights was the most unhappy
moment for them to meet after their long separation.
Amid the distractions of the play, the supper, the dance,
the throng of guests, the posing even more inseparable
from a social gathering then than now, the true self of
neither was likely to be apparent. But whatever passed
between them on that evening, it was not until the 2 ist
September that Mile Curchod launched a very long and
passionately angry letter. 1

She was on the point of leaving for Mont&imar and
later Paris in the hope of salving her mother's fortune.
Her return as well as her whole future was uncertain.
Gibbon might well be leaving before then, never to re-
visit Lausanne. Pent-up feelings could and need be
restrained no longer.

'Intimidated and overcome at Ferney', she writes, 'by the
continual play of forced gaiety and the hard-heartedness or your
replies, my trembling lips absolutely refused to serve me; you
assured me in other words that you blushed for me for the rdle
I sustained; Monsieur, I have never been able to confuse the
rights of honesty with those of vanity. You have taught me at
times to forget the one. As for the other you are not a dis-
honest man and what sort of a criminal would be the man who
should dare to accuse me of ever having harmed '

almost every other day, and it is hardly likely that he would omit this great
event in .the letter immediately following it. Therefore the performance was
probably on 4th or 5th August, and in any case in the first week of that
month. Gibbon's letter to Mrs Gibbon was written on 6th August. In his
Journal, 3ist December 1763, cited Misc. Wks. i.- 173, Gibbon implies that
he went to Geneva in July. The only important point for us is that he en-
countered Suzanne Curchod before 6th August and she did not write to him
till zist September.

1 d'Haussonville, op. cit. L 70-76. The dates take the wind out of d'Hausson-
ville's sails, who says that after her cruel treatment at Ferney k vase dfborda
the next day.

145 L

EDWARD GIBBON

Over five pages flows the tumultuous justification of her
conduct from their first meetings; in her constancy, in
her independence and disinterestedness in view of his
position and prospects, in her relations with M. de
Montplaisir and Deyverdun her conscience is proudly
clear. He might see any of her letters if he cared. And
in truth a surviving letter to Deyverdun is innocent
enough, a rigmarole of girlish wit. 1 As for Montplaisir,
she relates that it was in order to let Gibbon see that
she would not sacrifice her heart to a fortune that she
revealed the fact of his offers. Gibbon himself sur-
prised her by declaring his own passion. Mr Gibbon's
refusal had brought her *au bord du tombeau*. But such
was her infatuation with an imaginary figure, that she
had interpreted Gibbon's silence as proof of his con-
stancy throughout the painful years which followed.
Her visits to Lausanne had been an escape from the
slavery of lessons, and if her conduct had drawn
people's jealousy and censure, it was only that she was
enjoying the little triumphs of vanity; no one else had
taken his place in her heart.

*I acted', she concludes, 'with you as an honest man of the
world, incapable of failing in his promise, of seducing or betray-
ing, but who has amused himself in tearing my soul with tortures
most deliberately conceived and carried out. I will not threaten
you any more with the vengeance of heaven, an expression
which escaped me in a first access, but I can assure you here,
without any prophetic wisdom, that you will one day regret the
irreparable loss which you have made in alienating for ever the
too tender, too frank heart of S.C.

ce 21 septembre?

This is the entry in his Journal for 22nd September:

The second volume of the letters of Baron de Bidfeld diverted
me from Nardini. His character interests me. I find in his

1 MS. in the possession of Mme Grenier-Brandebourg.

146

SUZANNE CURCHOD AGAIN

letters a naive enough picture of the courts of Germany. I
should have preferred in truth some details of the character and
history of the King of Prussia and of his suppers at Potsdam to
all these galas and marriages. But discretion and fear impose
very rigorous laws in Germany.

'I have received a most unexpected letter. It was from
Mademoiselle C. Dangerous and artificial Girl ! At this air of
candour which reigns in your letter, at these sentiments of
affection and straightforwardness which you display, I felt some
regrets and almost remorse. She makes a defence of her conduct
from the first moment that she knew me, her constancy to me,
her scorn for M. de Montplaisir, and the tender and firm faith-
fulness which she believed she saw in the letter in which I told
her there was no more hope. The journeys to Lausanne, the
adorers whom she has had and the compkcence with which she
has listened to them form the most difficult article to justify.
Neither d'Ejverdun (she says) nor any body have for a moment
effaced my image from her heart. She was amusing herself at
Lausanne without becoming attached. Granted. But these
amusements convict her all along of the most odious dissimula-
tion, and if unfaithfulness is sometimes a weakness, duplicity is
always a vice. It was during the month of July 1758 that she
wrote me from Crassie that remarkable letter full of tenderness
and despair her eyes filled with tears and her health enfeebled
by grief. In that same month of July she was at Lausanne full
of health and charm. The object of the women's jealousy and the
men's sighs ( j 1 enjoying all the pleasures, founding Aca-
d&nies, distributing prizes, herself composing jeux d'esprit and
playing with love even if she was not engaging herself seriously.
Is not this contrast enough to enlighten me on her account? I
say enlighten. It is only a question now of ideas and not at all
of feelings. The most complete justification, in restoring my
esteem for her, could no longer rekindle fires so completely put
out. As she tells me that she must soon leave Geneva I shall not
see her again any more and all is finished. This remarkable
aflair in all its aspects has been very useful to me. It has opened
my eyes upon the character of women and will serve me for a
long time as a preservative against the seductions of love.

*I went to dine at Mesery where I found myself almost alone

1 Gibbon left this bracketed space in his MS. intending apparently to insert
a reference.

'47

EDWARD GIBBON

with Madame. After dinner I returned to town and supped
with Guise and Clarke.' *

Lovers are not the best judges of evidence. Who
would now pledge his verdict on the rights of this
matter on their testimony alone? Who on the other
hand can doubt that Gibbon and Suzanne Curchod were
not made to marry one another? Not for the last time
would that tide of eloquence have swept vainly over the
smooth well-constructed breakwater. Perhaps one is
rather appalled to see it stand so unshaken when the
wave has passed. Rousseau was right. The grave
balancing of the phrases, the cool subordination of all
experience to himself, show that the lover has gone, the
historian remains, and if he sighs at all now, it is a sigh
of relief.

1 Part of this was printed in a footnote, Prothero, i. 41, but with very serious
omissions.

148

Chapter II

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP

1763-1764

' A PARIS j'^tois un sage.' Gibbon's rueful comment on
/\his dissipations was written in February 1764 when
his stay in Lausanne was drawing to an end. It is the
text of the contrast between the brief complacent
account of this period in his Autobiography and the
detailed often uneasy record of the contemporary
Journal.

The prospect in the previous May had been bright
enough. His return had been welcomed by old friends
to whom he was anxious to display himself in his new
r61es of soldier and author. Pavillard had shed tears
over him and had shown him how he carried about the
gold snuff-box, with his pupil's miniature on the lid, in
a wooden case to protect it. 1 This was gratifying ; it was
also satisfactory that without offending the good man it
tad been possible to secure lodgings more suitable to
the young captain's tastes and position.

Henri de Crousaz de Mfeery kept what was known as
the Academy. He had two houses, one in the rue du
Bourg, 2 the other a chlteau at Mfoery, about three miles
out of the town to the north-west. According to the

1 Protfaro, i. 40. Gibbon's father had given Pavillard this snuff-box. Many
years later Gibbon discovered that the family had cut the box up and divided
it. He recovered the portrait from them and gave it to Sheffield. The minia-
ture was painted by Miss Carwarden, afterwards Mrs Butler. Add. MSS.
34887, f. 40.

The Hdtel Central stands on its site.

149

EDWARD GIBBON

season of the year his guests could be put up at either
house; in the height of summer indeed they had the run
of both. Most of the inmates were young Englishmen,
Germans or Dutch, who were nominally at least pursu-
ing various studies and could engage what masters they
pleased, M. de M6zery was a gentleman who, to
Gibbon's satisfaction, successfully maintained the fiction
that he was entertaining for his pleasure, and Mme de
Mzery was a lady of charm and ability.

Their hospitality was not confined to young men, and
Gibbon on his arrival found established there an old
militia friend with his family. Sir Willoughby Aston
and his wife were respectively enjoying unlimited whist
and wine, and they all had a good talk about Winchester
camp and the great court-martial at Reading. There was
also Count Golovkin and his wife, who were bringing
up their children on Rousseau's advice.

In such staid and agreeable surroundings Gibbon
settled down in June to a course of hard study. When
he was out at M6zery he read Latin poetry. In Lausanne
he made use of the libraries in order to begin an elabor-
ate analysis of the geography of ancient Italy.

But when his Journal begins again on i yth August we
find him a prey to various distractions and moving with
an idle crowd between M6zery and the town. Some of
the young men had rooms in the Lausanne house but
came out to Mzery to dine, and in the afternoon
Gibbon's room would be the 'CaffS reg!6 de ces de-
sceuvrs*. From time to time these young men would
haunt his rooms, chattering there until half-past mid-
night, and he complains with all the severity of an over-
anxious undergraduate whose schools are less than a
year ahead. Yet having already found the chateau at
Mzery boring, he was ready at any time to go into
town with them were it for a supper party or to improve
their French by hearing a sermon on despising the

150

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP

world. There was a long bill for cabriolets, and it was
a relief when the family moved to the rue du Bourg in
September. Unfortunately the young men were not
satisfied with these mild diversions, and the militia cap-
tain was involved and perhaps led the way, for the
honour of the service, in some boisterous escapades
which he soon regretted and learned to avoid.

They were noisy young men. There was Sidney, *a
meer boy', but of a violent nature, and Mr Guise, 'a Sir
John Guise of Gloucestershire's son a very sensible
well-bred man', and Clarke and Victor de Saussure, a
Swiss. On the other side were the town watch, honest
fellows somewhat puzzled how to deal with high-spirited
gentlemen, and the authorities themselves a little
puzzled too, because it was not certain how far foreign
students, whether fully matriculated or not, were
answerable only to the Bernese government. Some-
where between the parties were men like M. Frey, the
man who had brought Gibbon out from London ten
years ago and was now Guise's governor. 1

One Sunday night in June Sidney and Guise caused a
small riot at Ouchy. The next month Clarke and Saus-
sure lodged a complaint about their treatment by the
watchmen, and the magistrates felt bound to establish a
patrol to watch the watch. Nevertheless a few days kter
there was another uproar, and this time the Council
received a circumstantial letter signed by * Messieurs
Clarke, Guise, Guibon et Sidney'. The watchman, Jacob
Corbaz, had demonstrated with a bayonet and threat-
ened the said gentlemen. They demanded justice and
promised to appeal to the Bailli and to the government
of Berne. This was Gibbon's first appearance in these
troubles and he must have been a useful fellow in dis-
tress, with his knowledge of French, and of the ins and

* Later Sidney's, but he refused to take him to Italy because of his uncon-
trollable behaviour.

EDWARD GIBBON

outs of the local government. It is significant that in the
next mention in the minutes his name has moved up to
the first place in the list of complainants.

The Council pondered the problem and enquired for
facts, and at last named 23rd August for a hearing.
Gibbon appeared at the head of his party and laid their
case in a speech of a quarter of an hour. The threat to
go to Berne proved successful. The Council found on
the facts for the Englishmen, and it was agreed that the
watch should get off with a reprimand in their presence.

'Thus*, comments Gibbon, *our case ended, an unhappy busi-
ness which showed on the magistrates' part an obstinacy, bad
faith and incapacity which renders them very contemptible, and
on ours too much desire to hold on to a trifle.* I

That was enough for the watch, and they kept out of
the way on other occasions when the wine of Burgundy
had marched to some purpose. 2 The disgraceful climax
came on the I4th September. Gibbon had visited one
of those innocent and perhaps tame gatherings of young
people, la sociltl du Ch&teau, and had played with
Catherine Crousaz, whom he much admired. Then,
after two pages left blank for no stated reason, he con-
tinues the sad story of the same day:

^ 'On leaving this assembly why did I not go home at once
instead of supping with Clarke? There we were Guise, Clarke,
Captain Clarke, Sidney, Manners, de Salis and 1 5 councillor
d'lllens, Major Grand, Corsier and de Saussure. Clarke made
the bottle pass with such speed that after having emptied five
and twenty of Burgundy we went down the town in an uproar,
falling and picking ourselves up again twenty times and waking
everybody. ^At three o'clock in the morning I reached my
apartment with the help of Manners, who is never so sensible as

1 Lausanne, Hotel de Vflle, Manuel de Conseil de 1761-64, ff. 245-451, sit-
tings for 2ist to 26th July, i6th and 2;jrd August, also 28th June, ist, 4th
and 8th July, and Gibbon's MS. Journal, 23 aout.

3 *Le vin de Bourgogne a march6 et nous nous sommes trouves passablement
gris.' Journal, 8th September.

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP

when he is drunk. The others flung themselves into Sidney's
apartment where there were nearly some fearful scenes; Sidney
and Saussure at each other's throats; a gun went off under
Guise's arm and the ball broke the window. But what is bound
to make a noise is the visit Guise and Ckrke made to Corsier
who had gone home. They threatened to break the door, and
when Mile. Corsier appeared at the window, she was not treated
with all the respect possible. I would give much that all this
tintamarre had not happened in a town as small and conse-
quently as censorious as this one.'

The morning had its inevitable physical consequences.
More disastrous, as Gibbon foresaw, was the blow to
his reputation. Although he had the sense to avoid the
risk of cold looks or worse, he knew what was thought
of him when, in eleven days' time, he ventured to call
on Mme du Bochat and she said nothing and made no
comment on his absence.

'Her silence gave me pain. My manners had a very good
reputation here but I can see tnat people are beginning to
identify me with my compatriots and to look on me as a man
who litres wine and riot. Are they altogether wrong?*

He never erred to this extent again, but more than one
reference in the diary indicates that his disgrace was not
quickly wiped out.

Gibbon, as has been already seen, was ready at making
friendships and optimistic for their future, undeterred
by the transience of many of them. Huntingtower and
d'Augny had gone their ways. John Butler Harrison
was no companion away from the militia. Gibbon had a
letter from him this autumn and pondered regretfully
on the illiteracy of this good fellow. The bond withDey-
verdun remained firm in spite of absence. But he was
away now tutoring in Germany. They corresponded,
but at the moment were a little at cross purposes.

EDWARD GIBBON

Deyverdun had rejected some plans for living together
which Gibbon had made the previous year. Now he
wanted to accept them; but Gibbon's plans were already
in great uncertainty once more throughdisturbing letters
from home, and this news from Deyverdun was but
an added embarrassment. Meanwhile in his absence
Deyverdun had obligingly recommended Victor de
Saussure. This idle but engaging young man had made
a great way in Gibbon's regard, and by the end of Sep-
tember they were sitting up till one in the morning in
deep conversation. But Saussure was soon sent packing
to Gottingen. He had offended his family's pride and
expectations by falling in love with Marianne de Illens,
whose place was in La Palud rather than in the exclusive
Bourg. Gibbon later, 1766, wrote him a letter of
Chesterfieldian cynicism recommending the pursuit of
married women. 1 A boyish effusion.
Gibbon confided his regrets to his Journal :

*I have lost this friend almost as soon as I had gained him. It
happens rarelj enough that one can count in advance on form-
ing a close tie with some one quite unknown and still more
rarely that such expectation should not be in vain. That is the
history of our connection. D'Eyverdun's letters had introduced
this young man to me, and from the moment that I formed the

myself with his company for the loss of my friend. He viewed
me seemingly with the same predilections. We took a mutual
liking for one another and passed rapidly to familiarity to con-
fidence to friendship, and in six weeks we had nothing more to
hide from one another.*

The diarist then gives of Saussure one of his most
elaborate pen portraits. The claims of other candidates
for his favour are reviewed more briefly but with un-
failing interest. A young man, de Cheseaux, who had
been fort lit years ago makes a passing appearance.

* Meredith Rea& ii. p. 353.

154

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP

Gibbon spends a day with him at his country place and
sizes up his position. A good deal of time is spent with
Wuest, but finally he is relegated with almost girlish
pedantry to the second class of friendship. He cannot
be ranked with Victor de Saussure or Deyverdun. In
the same class perhaps was Clarke, Godfrey Bagnall
Clarke, with whom Gibbon kept up after their return to
England and lived to execute his will. Of the other
Englishmen Guise is well, liked, and converses with
Gibbon 'sur un ton d'amit^*. Lord Palmerston is well-
informed and likely to profit by his tour. He is shy, but
that will wear off with experience. He has distinguished
himself by visiting the Alps. Nevertheless a few days
later, after an evening spent in his company, Gibbon
concludes that, though they appreciated each other's
merits, they would never become friends in a year spent
together. Meanwhile there had arrived at M. de
M^zery's house a young Englishman who after an un-
promising beginning was destined to hold first place
above them all, not excepting even Georges Deyverdun.
Captain John Baker Holroyd, with his friend Captain
Edward Manners of the 2 ist Light Dragoons, the Royal
Foresters, a regiment raised by the Marquis of Granby
for the war and recently disbanded, had visited Ger-
many and now, in the course of a tour which was not to
be taken too seriously, arrived in Lausanne in August
and settled at M. de M&ery's, where, to their great
entertainment, a small and consequential young man
announced himself as Captain of Grenadiers in the
Hampshire Militia. But this was Major Sturgeon to the
life! The military cit of Foote's farce The Mayor of
Garratt, who had made the town laugh with his swelling
tale of marchings and counter-marchings between Baling
and Uxbridge, and of casualties on Hounslow Heath.
And here he was again, gossiping of duty at Dover or
Devizes, and ready to show his eye for the fine points of

155

EDWARD GIBBON

drill when Major Grand's Swiss grenadiers turned out.
The likeness was too much for the young cavalrymen
and they hailed him as such. This was too much in turn
for the young grenadier and he demanded explanations.
It was incredible. A British government would never
allow so valuable an institution as the militia to be
made game of on the stage. No civilised nation would
allow it. The impertinent young regulars must be
drawing on their prejudiced imaginations. Encouraged
by his indignation, they were delighted to return to the
attack and assure him it was all too true. 1 Gibbon
accepted this as philosophically as he did heavier blows.
Slowly but cautiously he admitted them to his society
and to his Journal. But there it is Manners who re-
ceives the fullest portraiture: 'C'est le meilleur gar?on
du monde, vif, enjou6, sans soucis et sans science quel-
conque*. Holroyd, on the other hand, *ne manque pas
d'esprit, ni de connoissance mais il paroit trs suffisant'.
Four days later, 5th September, the entry runs, 'je
commence k goftter Holroyd et Manners plus qu'au
commencement. La suffisance du premier diminue tous
les jours et je me faits k T&ourderie du second/
Their irreverence was forgiven, and twenty-five years
later Gibbon could equably promise to record his
marches and counter-marches like his brother, Major
Sturgeon. 2

An acquaintance begun thus cautiously and almost
against expectation developed slowly, and HolroycTs
name makes but few and brief appearances in the
Journal. The Italian tour was planned and begun in
Guise's company; it is of Guise that Gibbon writes
home with constant approval, announcing once again

1 Memorandum by Lord Sheffield, see Brit. Mus. 11909. dd. 25 (i).
From a letter of Holroyd's in Add. MSS. 34887 it appears that he was at
T^nsanne before 9th August Gibbon does not mention him till 3ist
August, and on ist September refers to him as 'un des nouveaux dbarques\

a Murray, p. 184.

156

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP

his hopes of a friendship formed for life. Only in the
last days at Lausanne is the progress made by Holroyd
revealed.

Guise and a young Dutchman quarrelled at a dance
over Nanette de Illens. A duel was imminent. Pavillard
and Holroyd, an odd alliance, knocked up Gibbon in
the morning to invoke his aid. With them Gibbon spent
the day running to and fro, to succeed finally in paci-
fying both parties. He concludes his record by reflect-
ing on the insight into his friends' characters afforded by
this small crisis: 'I have conceived a real friendship for
Holroyd. He has plenty of sense and feelings of honour,
with a heart in the right place.' He follows this up in a
letter in May from the Borromean Islands addressing
him familiarly as 'dear Leger' and calling him his best
friend, and in his Journal for ist July he notes receiv-
ing a letter in Florence and anticipates the pleasure of
meeting Holroyd in Rome in the winter.

The temperament and habits of this new friend were
very different from those of Gibbon or his previous
friends. Holroyd bathed in the lake every morning until
it became too cold, and had intended, with what seems
strangely modern optimism, to go on all through the
winter. Four mornings a week he was at the riding
school. Sometimes he would go shooting in the after-
noon, and would then spend the evening in his rooms. 1
He was not a scholar and seems to have had little Latin. 2
If he was well-informed it was for practical purposes;

* Letters of Holroyd in Add. MSS. 34887.

a When he received Dr. Parr's inscription for Gibbon's tomb with the phrase
decessit X7II CAL. FEB. he hastened to inform the learned doctor that
Gibbon had died in January, Add. MSS. 34887. Probably the guotation
from Tacitus which adorns the closing paragraph of his continuation of the
Autobiography was supplied by one or the scholars whom he called in to help
with his editorial task. Misc. Wks* i. 425. Gibbon, it must be said, often
quotes Latin in his letters to him. Holroyd had been at school in Dublin
with Malone. His family had migrated to Ireland from Yorkshire in
Charles II's reign.

"57

EDWARD GIBBON

in time to come he was to be a progressive agriculturist.
It is unlikely that he was introspective, or the man to
sit up half the night exchanging confidences. His por-
trait by Reynolds shows a frank energetic countenance
with 'an eagle eye', and we know him to have been quick-
tempered and given to damning and cursing in his
letters. Though like Gibbon and the other young men
he was a whole-hearted dangler, to use their own word,
on his record he was a marrying man, being destined
to have had in the end three wives, though only one
during. Gibbon's lifetime. This friendship was one of
the happiest unions of opposites, and Gibbon at least
was lucky, and very likely wise in securing the devotion
of a man who supplied some essential qualities which he
himself lacked.

But such differences do not exhaust the significance of
these men's relation, a significance apparent from their
earliest days together. In that first autumn Holroyd is
seen as a rule in the company of such active fellows as
Guise and Manners and Clarke. They made up a party
in October to see Switzerland and reached the sources
of the Danube. Gibbon was asked to go with them. But
he apprehended expense and racket mainly on the part
of Manners and Clarke. Besides it was getting late in
the year and they were going on horseback. His mind
was ready to support the loss of interests to which his
slight frame was unequal. Gibbon's feeling for nature
has been underestimated in some ways, but he never
quite understood the attraction of the mountains. He
liked to send home awe-inspiring references to the
snow-capped peaks which surrounded Lake Leman.
But Lord Palmerston's curiosity to go fairly near them
was another matter, and here was Holroyd at it too. In
Gibbon's last days in Switzerland the 'tour of the
glaciers' had become incomprehensibly popular, and
when Lord Sheffield was induced at last to bring his

158

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP

family out to view 'the highly respectable situation of
Mr. Gibbon* l in Lausanne, he must needs also take his
daughters to Chamouny and adventure them over the
Col de Balme, and they too must go and sign their names
in Rousseau's bedroom. They were true children of
their father in that. Gibbon was destined to advance
half unawares into a new age of ideas and achievements
with his eyes still comfortably fixed upon a receding
world, and this contrast is strikingly illustrated in the
greatest intimacy of his life, and even in the neo-Gothic
setting which Holroyd provided at Sheffield Place with
the assistance of Wyatt's genius.

An angry lover, a new friendship nor must that
regrettable tintamarre of the I4th be forgotten were
enough to make that September memorable. But there
is one more agitation to be recorded, one which went
near to making the merest trifle of any other matter.
The Italian tour, the thing which after all lay nearest to
Gibbon's heart, for which he was preparing so solidly
through every other distraction, was seriously threat-
ened. Letters from home conveyed his father's dis-
satisfaction over his expenditure, revealing the very
uncertain state of the family finances. Another mort-
gage was spoken of. Gibbon deplored such a step and
proposed an alternative. If his annuity was made into a
perpetual rent charge, Gibbon would sell that for an
annuity on his life. By that he would be able to double
his present allowance. He was willing to make almost
any concession to his father, provided he could go to
Italy, barring if possible the raising of another mort-
gage. He had made up his mind that he would never
marry now, but he was bound to take the long view for
his own lifetime. He already foresaw interminable em-
1 Misc. Wits. i. p.

159

EDWARD GIBBON

barrassments. An injudicious phrase in one of his letters
annoyed his father still more. Gibbon is seen anxiously
and eloquently trying to explain it away, and still
eloquently and persistently holding on to the Italian
tour.

Month by month the correspondence went on with the
long-drawn suspense of the tardy posts. At one time
if the mortgage was persisted in Gibbon was holding
himself ready for a quick journey to London and back,
always incognito in order that the town might not know
that the Gibbons were in any difficulties. But eventually
the threat was removed. Mr Gibbon agreed to the tour
of Italy. There would be no need for him to come home.
This glad news arrived at the end of October, and the
Journal relates how its writer in the full flush of his
relief made a very dull and unpromising party go with
spirit. Yet this was not the end of his troubles. His
father appears to have played a cat-and-mouse game.
On ist February Gibbon desperately recorded after
receiving a letter that he must make an end of these
tiracasseries. Either he must go on to Italy with a peace
of mind which he had not so far enjoyed, or return to
England and wait for a favourable opportunity to make
a third journey on the Continent. He thereupon sat
down and wrote a temperate and persuasive letter, not
arguing about their financial plans, but calmly setting
out the scale of inevitable expenses. He had been
assured that Italy could not be visited, and proper com-
pany kept, except at the rate of 700 or 800 a year at
the lowest. He was concerned to know that he had
already spent about half of his father's income.

*If it was possible for you, Dear Sir, to make such an effort for
only one year > I should consider it as an obligation which it ought
to be my study to repay by the most exact economy upon all
other occasions and by coming (if necessary) into any schemes
which might be thought of to make us both easy. But in case

160

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP

you cannot do it, I had rather give up a scheme (I have indeed
always set my heart upon) than it should be the occasion of
perpetual uneasinesses and inconveniences to us both.'

The reply was favourable at last. Mr Gibbon agreed
to let his son have 700 a year and left him in peace
of mind until the middle of his stay in Rome.

A brief idyllic picture of Lausanne society is painted
by Gibbon in his Autobiography. By the light of his
Journal it appears neither quite so simple nor satis-
factory. But first let Holroyd sketch the scene in his
more direct way.

* All the world is come to town and we are eminently brilliant*
not an evening scarce without one or two Assemblies. We are
not troubled with Playhouses Ridottos or such lite. There is a
sort of Club Coffee House the Members of which are chosen by
ballot. The Number is confined to Eighty and is at present fulL
It is a very good collection. There are persons from all parts and
several very sensible men. The Prince of WQrtemberg and the
Governor of the town are members. . . . There is another
society which pleases me very much. It is called the Spring
because it consists of Young Women. It is held every Sunday
at the house of one of the young ladies. I attend most devoutly.
After cards we generally amuse ourselves with some innocent
recreations which are nearly the same as what is called in your
country Blind Man's Buff, Questions and Commands, etc. etc
At thesame time I mustobserve thatnotwithstanding the Gaiety
of the Misses there never happen any improprieties. Occasion-

ally they have balls. They are much addicted to English country
dances.

Elsewhere he remarks, 'they are not so reserved as
English misses, but are extremely shy of pawing and
handling'. 1

The young Englishmen enjoyed themselves in these
various coteries, and none the less for knowing that

1 Some letters of Holroyd, ipth December 1763, in Add. MSS. 34887.

l6l M

EDWARD GIBBON

they were regarded as good catches and the nets were
out. Besides the Printemps y there were the Mercredi and
the Chateau. Gibbon tasted them all in turn, and when
their members were judged provincial, foolish and in-
sipid, and altogether company unworthy of him, he
turned his eyes on the exclusive houses of the rue du
Bourg. Presently he was to be found in the inner circle
of Mesdames d'Hermanches, de St Cierge, and d'Aul-
bonne. M. de Chandieu Villars, the father of the girl
with whom as Madame de Sdvery he was so closely
associated in later years, called and paid him particular
attention. Here were to be found the ease and usage of
the highest society.

Yet in a short while this aristocratic group proved
unsatisfactory. It was dull and pretentious, aping ways
that were foreign to the Swiss, and, out pops the ulti-
mate truth, they had not paid M. Gibbon all the atten-
tion he looked for. 'Je me suis jaufitt dans le Printems.'
The truant was warmly welcomed with a shower of
invitations. He could play the fool there at his ease.

Among his other criticisms Gibbon did not spare him-
self. He owned up to his appetite for flattery, bemoaned
his laziness, wondering when he would get a solid year
devoted to useful occupations. Then he gives himself a
good mark for being less maussade in society. But at the
Club he had a serious set-back in being rejected in favour
of a young Dutchman to represent the foreigners on the
committee. He had also lost forty pounds, an event
which gave rise to some sound reflexions on the folly
of gambling, with an emphasis on the barrenness of the
satisfaction brought by winning.

But on the whole it was a series of enjoyable episodes.
First there was dangling agreeably between *ma bonne
amie Catherine Crousaz* and Mile de Wufflens a
Macheathian situation only spoilt by the presence of a
disagreeable fellow, Juste Constant de Rebecque, who

162

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP

four years later was to have a son known as Benjamin
Constant. Then there were the Grands and the de Illens
of La Palud, overbidding one another for popularity.
What a weapon to break a rival's party was Nanette de
Illens! Guise, Holroyd and Clarke, the rogues, forsook
a previous engagement for her sake. The cautious
Gibbon attended both parties, and was rewarded by
enjoying the frosty discomfiture of the first before
he joined the second in its hour of crowded hilarity.
He found Blind Man's Buff rather boisterous. But
he enjoyed the comic operas in which Nanette shone
with the rest, even when they did not know their parts
or the music, and was not a little, though no doubt
agreeably, shocked at seeing nice girls in breeches;
actresses were different. It was as well at times to make
a sober jaunt to Lutry in Pavillard's company on a visit
to the pasteur there.

After Christmas the fun became faster than ever with
parties and plays and veiltis every day and night, and
for Gibbon especially so by reason of two predicaments
which, unexpected in themselves and in their mutual
relation, afforded a feverish and rather disgraceful
climax.

On 2nd February at a party somewhat marred by
Constant's presence he met^a Mme Seigneux and
plunged headlong into a warm flirtation.

c J*ai beaucoup caus6 avec une petite Allemande qui a 6pous le
jeune Seigneux. Sans toe jolie sa vivacit et son petit air mutfn
etdiiffonn6Iarendenttrsinter&sante. Eileselaisseagacerfort
bien; die agace a son tour. Elle entend tout sans se formaliser,
et y rpond de m&ne. Qu'dle a de temperament! C'est la
lubricit^ la plus dcide qui perce dans ses yeux, dans ses gestes
et dans tous ses propos. Aussi Pa-t-il fallu marier quinze ans,
parceque etc.'

It was in the idyllic Printentps that he pursued La
Petite Femme with a calculated mixture of ardour and

EDWARD GIBBON

restraint. Within a week it was the established order
that they should be at the same table at these parties,
and invitations from the great Mme d'Hermanches were
neglected that he might be there. 'Tout comme a
Pordinaire*, it went on from day to day. *Le Printems,
le Whist et la Petite Femme.' He was gleefully play-
ing with fire. *La petite 6toit de mauvaise humeur.
Est-ce que son mari ne 1'avoit pas assez etc.' Gibbon
at any rate had fixed his limit. It was to be an affair of
badinage without any serious element.

Then news came of Mile Curchod's arrival, and he
notes, and perhaps the fact that he did note it betrays
some uneasiness, that he felt how far his cure was com-
pleted by the indifference with which he learnt of it.
Once more he meets La Petite Femme* She seeks him
out, so he says, and they whisper together in a corner
until *Le Mari commence & s'en fonnaliser un peu', and
comes to interrupt them more than ten times. The next
day a formal visit to Mile Curchod was made under the

re escort of Pavillard.

*To begin with I was a bit confused, but recovered myself and
we talked for a quarter of an hour with all the freedom of people
who have understood one another. How instructive for me is
this tranquillity on her part! I passed the afternoon with la
Petite Femme at Madame Fornerey's. Nothing new/

The next few days were devoted to La Petite Femme^
who was in and out of humour, and an invitation to walk
after the sermon draws the reflexion that Gibbon pre-
ferred his old authors. He turns from this 'gofttpassager
et sans principes' to consider his old affair.

*2ist. I could not help thinking a good deal about Mile
Curchod. She betrayed me, since d'Eyverdun had no motive to
do so. There is however something sly in her story. She could
only have founded her Academy in 1759. It is true that is
enough for me. I ventured to call on her. We talked with all
the freedom in the world. Her mind has gained a great deal and

164

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP

if we can forget the past, her company is charming. I took her
to a big gathering at Mme Sachli's but without paying her
marked attention.

*22nd. As I was settling down to work, a bit late if the truth
were told, la Petite Femme walked in the derrifere Bourg. 1
Guise went and joined her under his window and I was obliged
to go down and lose the morning with her.

'After dinner I went up to the Cit6 and had a t6te-i-tte of
two hours with la Curchod. An inclination draws me thither.
I note with pleasure that she does not talk at all of the past
except for some allusions which I am not obliged to understand.*

So he went on with both of them. 'Toujours la Petite
Femme et moi nous sommes bons amis', and if he had
views the opportunity would not be wanting. Then he
is present at an afternoon given in Mile Curchod's
honour by Mme la docteuse d' Apples. He did not play,
De Brenles and his wife, Mme Sachli and Gibbon talked
to La Belle, who was very witty with her pleasantry.
Gibbon began to be bored.

The next day

*a8th. I spent the afternoon and supper at Madame de Brenles
by invitation. It was for Mile. Curchod. I paid little attention
to her, talking with a number of other ladies. She acted on her
side with a great deal of freedom and rallied me on my tone of
petit nufitre and my liking for La Seigneux. I took her after
supper to a dance at the de Ulens where Guise had invited her
at my request, but she must have seen a hundred times that
everything was irrevocably ended. Decency kept me sometimes
near her, but I was always making for la Petite Femme, and for
this time at least my senses have triumphed over my mini In
truth k Petite often spared me the trouble of looking for her.
Never have we got on better together. She has admitted to me
that she dislikes being married. These two women that I had
on my hands amused me much. I saw every one else leave
and saw k Curchod home. She had abandoned herself whole-
heartedly to her taste for pleasure.*

Gibbon could not keep away from Suzanne, and yet

i What is now Avenue Benjamin Constant.

165

EDWARD GIBBON

when he was with her he could only be rude. It was a
sign that his cure was not as complete as he wished to
believe. He could not let the past alone.

'We rallied very freely on our departed affection and I made
her see quite clearly that I knew all about her inconstancy.
She defended herself very well and maintained that she had
always kept d'Eyverdun off. What is one to believe? I admit
my friend's conduct seems sly and I almost suspect that he
pushed matters on. I gave la Belle back the letters which she
wrote to me after my return to Switzerland. She asked me for
them.'

The next scene is in Voltaire's old theatre at Mon
Repos. Once more Zaire was on the stage. The only
Englishmen in the audience were Holroyd, de Salis,
Ridley, Manners and Gibbon, who had brought
Suzanne with him.

*In the most interesting places of Zayre she sobbed enough to
draw the eyes of all upon her. But when she removea her
handkerchief one only saw a fresh and cheerful face without a
trace of tears. Everyone noticed such gross affectation. How
this girl plays Sensibility.*

And the next day he has Bourgeois in to read over
Zaire together. Gibbon wished to acquire the good
French style of declamation and flattered himself that
he had succeeded to some extent, especially in the
passages of grandeur, power and passion. And so once
more to the de Illens', where he gave the preference to
La Petite Femme, excusing himself because the odious
Constant was with Mile Curchod.

The ridiculous affair goes on; with La Petite Femme
behaving demurely under the eyes of her disapproving
in-laws ; with La Petite allowing an arm round her waist
and lips to hers; with her and another couple ensconced^
in a cabinet where they talked, etc. etc., until the hus-
band 'formalising himself of it' outside, at last sat
down bleakly in their midst. The affair was plainly

166

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP

heading towards one if not two denouements, were not
Gibbon determined to avoid them both.

People who had smiled and connived began to frown.
Nanette de Illens took Gibbon to task, reproaching him
for preferring Mme Seigneux to Suzanne. Suzanne
herself, when Gibbon for once dropped his bantering
tone with her how irritating he must have been 1 gave
him a sound warning of what his enemies were saying
on the score of this flirtation as well as the unforgotten
1 4th September. Gibbon heard reason and, although he
did not altogether tear himself away, we hear no more
of these tousings.

As for Suzanne herself, he continued to visit or see her,
and she received him until her departure early in April.
Gibbon reiterates tiresomely the care he took to show
her that all was over. Could this tiresome reiteration
have been necessary? He goes further: 'No more ques-
tion with her of the pure love of angels, my senses were
stirred and hers were not at all undisturbed' and on
another day: 'J'ai fait visite k la C. J'y suis sur un pied
trs amusant. Beaucoup de badinage, quelques licences
lui faisant sentir beaucoup de goftt et peu de consid^ra-
tion. Je vois que mon proc6d6 la d^route.'

It was time they all parted. Mile Curchod went first
early in April. Gibbon saw her the day before.

'There was a tone of pleasantry about our talk which I in-
creased without difficulty to let her see that I saw her go with
indifference. This feeling was not rehearsed Time, absence,
above all the knowledge of the false and affected character of
this girl have extinguished the last sparks of my passion.'

Sacred and Profane Love, Gibbon had not proved him-
self very impressive with either. Love is a matter in
which one should be thorough or leave it alone. But it
is not enough to be indignant with' what may appear a
rather odious little man. Suppose we all kept 3, diary
with the same unrelenting frankness. It is rather late

167

EDWARD GIBBON

in the day to be angry with Gibbon when others more
nearly concerned could forgive him, and it is after all
more a question of manners than anything. Probably
few of these young men would pass as unexceptionable
by the current code of good form. And it must indeed
be somewhat surprising for those who have their own
conception of this full-blooded century to find this pro-
vincial pottering holding so large a place in the grand
tour.

168

Chapter 12

THE TOUR OF ITALY

1764-1765

E farewell dinners had been given and received,
les petites embraced and told a hundred foolish
things Gibbon was leaving Lausanne this time with
few regrets and no dreams of felicity and on Wednes-
day, 1 8th April 1764, he set out in Guise's company
well equipped for the great adventure of Italy, and not
least by the presence of the closely written folios of
his Nomina Gentesque Antiquae Italiae in his baggage.
Their host de M6zery accompanied them as far as
Geneva, showering attentions on them to the point of
embarrassment.

They were entertained in Geneva by the English, with
Lord Mount Stuart at their head. At each city they
were to visit, there would be the same welcoming and
passing on in the grand chain of 'the pilgrims of the
year* coming and going anywhere Between Geneva and
Naples, making and losing friends, pausing to greet old
acquaintances on the return route, and noting the pro-
gress each had made.

On the 2oth they left Geneva to approach the still un-
pierced barrier of the Alps. Now their adventures were
beginning. *We have exchanged the most beautiftd
countryside perhaps which exists under the sun, the
delicious banks of Lake Leman, for the sheer and
barren mountains of Savoy/

169

EDWARD GIBBON

'Tuesday 24th. We dined at Modane and lay at Lannebourg 1
at the foot of the Mont Cenis. Always the same spectacle.
Steep and very narrow roads lead us up the side of the moun-
tains whose summits, bare or covered with snow, rise one above
the other and only end in the clouds. Below the precipices we
see the Arc whose white foaming waves plunge down the valley
with a roar, and form perpetual cascades on the rocks and big
boulders which the torrents bring down from the mountains.
The most lovely sunshine in the world gilded this romantic
scene and gave it a sombre colouring which disposes the soul to
an agreeable melancholy. Lannebourg is so buried under the
mountains that the inhabitants do not see the sun from the
beginning of November to the end of April.

'Wednesday 25th. After crossing the mountain we arrived in
very good time at Susa. One can cross in more than one way.
One can go a. la Ramasse; for that you get in a little sledge with
a peasant for guide who steers it and stops it as he wishes. Its
own weight and the incline of the mountain carry it down with
such momentum that the descent from the Maison de la Ramasse
to Lannebourg is made in a quarter of an hour though it must
be a good league. This method is most used on this side of the
mountain where the descent is straighter than the other. Guise
wanted to ride a mule, but he did not find this animal as sure as
had been represented. As for me I made the whole journey in
a chair from Lannebourg to Novalise. These chairs made of
rush and cords have a very low little back and a board on which
to rest the feet. Underneath it is entirely flat so that nothing
under it can stop it. I had four porters who took it in turns and
who made the five leagues across the mountain without stopping
at aU. The ascent is slow and painful but on the level and
coming down they ran rather than walked. Their quick short
little steps are superior in these places to that of a mule and are
very like the double of our soldiers. The king taxes them at
fifty sous a porter. It is however the favourite occupation of the
peasants. They reckon there are a hundred and twenty porters
at Lannebourg, and a hundred and fifty at Novalise, In any
case it is the only work they can do in the mountains during
seven months of the year. My humane feelings caused me some
repugnance to being carried over a fearful mountain by my

1 1>, Lanskboorg.

170

THE TOUR OF ITALY

fellows but this repugnance yielded to necessity; and that all the
more easily that I flatter myself that their trade is not harmful
though it may be irksome. They certainly told me themselves
that it shortened their days. But among my porters there was
one vigorous fellow in spite of his fifty-two years during thirty-
four of which he had been following this occupation.

'The side of the mountain towards Lannebourg offers a re-
markable view. No rocks or precipices are visible. An immense
covering of snow presents a uniform surface like an iced cake.
The ascent is over a path a foot wide, very rough and at this
season very slippery from the ice on it. This path winds almost
continually. But one is very safe on it and the only incon-
venience felt by us was the excessive cold. When we were at
the top, a slight fog arose which soon dispersed to allow the
most beautiful sun in the world to reappear; the reflexion on the
snow made us feel a very uncomfortable heat for some moments.
The plain at the summit of the Mont Cenis is only a pretty
narrow valley which may be two leagues wide from the Maison
de la Ramasse to the Grande Croix. It is bordered by moun-
tains on both sides of still greater height, among which one can
make out the little Mont Cenis on the right. This pass is shorter,
but as it is very dangerous it is little frequented. This plain is
covered with snow to a depth of twenty to thirty feet; but they
assured us that for some months of the summer it is a charming
place covered with grass and flowers, which furnish excellent
pasture to a number of herds from which the owner derives a
considerable revenue. There is a small lake there too. When it
is thawed it provides small but good trout. The descent on the
Piedmontese side is two leagues from the Grande Croix to
Novalise. It is very difficult and bordered with very deep pre-
cipices; but to diminish the steepness a zigzag road has been
made known as the Chemin de PEchelle. I counted about
thirty turns myself and think there must be more than fifty.
One sees already that it is Italy. For while the other side of the
mountain is covered with snow, there is almost none on this
side. The great and almost only danger of the mountain is the
avalanche; masses of snow which break loose from the summit
and fall into the plain with the noise of thunder. Men, houses
and even whole villages are often buried in them. We saw the
remains of an avalanche which had fallen on the plateau from
the Mont Cenis. It had choked the valley and mounted high

171

EDWARD GIBBON

enough up the opposite side to block the path. As it is not un-
known for men to live a considerable rime buried in the snow,
the porters take care to provide themselves with bread so as not
to die of hunger before they can be got out. Such is the force of
education and of familiarity to inure man and to make him
prepare coolly for the most frightful dangers.'

They were in Italy now, for they were surrounded by
a crowd of people who demanded payment for the
slightest service. Gibbon had tipped his porters a
guinea to their apparent satisfaction, yet a moment later
one of them demanded more money for having lent him
some gloves.

Seven days after leaving Geneva they were in Turin.
Reading and conversation had passed the time, but it
would be difficult, so Gibbon commented, to make a
less agreeable journey than this one over the mountains
of Savoy.

In Italy Gibbon was at last really a foreigner on the
Continent. Not merely the strange language but the
manners and outlook of society brought home to him
that he was in a different world from Paris and Lau-
sanne, He soon concluded that Turin was not the town
for amusements. The pretty women they were un-
common were all taken up with their cicisbei. Of an
evening in Mme de St Gilles' drawing-room he writes
with heavy sarcasm:

*If there is any pleasure in watching play which one does not
understand, in listening to a Piedmontese jargon of which one
does not take in a word, and in finding oneself in the midst of a
proud nobility who will not speak a word to you, we had a most
amusing time in this assembly.*

After absurdly formal delays they made their bow to
the King as he went to mass. His Majesty put some
simple questions to the travellers about their coming
and going, and Gibbon noted that he was a little old
man whose uneasy manners indicated a bourgeois of

172

THE TOUR OF ITALY -

very poor style. The sight of this unimpressive royalty
gave rise to some reflexions.

*A court is for me simultaneously an object of interest and
disgust. The servility of the courtiers revolts me and I view
with horror the magnificence of the palaces which have been
cemented with the blood of the people. In a small and poor
kingdom like this they must grind the people in order to be
equal with the other crowned heads, and to keep up the air of
grandeur and the long series of apartments filial with guards
and officers whom one sees in the palaces of Turin. In each
gilded ornament I seem to see a village of Savoyards ready to die
of hunger, cold and misery.*

These are sentiments which are frequently repeated in
The Decline and Fall

It is in describing to Holroyd a later scene at court
that Gibbon gives an amusing sketch of himself. One
not merely sees how he was already prepared in the
smallest details to make a figure in the world when the
time came, but it is possible to divine here as in other
letters that if the Grand Gibbon became something of a
legend in his own life, the legend was in great degree of
his own making.

'The "most sociable women I have met with are the King's
daughters. I chatted for about a quarter of an hour with them,
talked about Lausanne, and grew so very free and easy, that I
drew my snuff-box, rapped it, took snun twice (a crime never
known before in the presence chamber), and continued my dis-
course in my usual attitude of my body bent forwards, and my
forefinger stretched

Nearly three weeks passed in these unexhilarating
entertainments, combined with some laborious sight-
seeing, and relieved by Italian lessons at seven in the
morning.

So without much reluctance the travellers went on to
Milan, which they reached on I3th May after passing
over 'the most beautiful plain in the world, rich, fertile

173

EDWARD GIBBON

and well cultivated, watered by a number of streams
without being flooded'.

Their stay at Milan was short, and Gibbon has there-
fore little to say of the people beyond noting that they
were not so rich nor so superstitious as the Torinese.
The city was vast rather than beautiful. A visit was
made to Lake Maggiore, where it rained all day and they
camped out in the falazzo on Isola Bella, meals being
sent in from a trattoria. On the way back the energetic
Guise climbed up inside the colossal statue of S. Carlo
Borromeo at Arona.

Venice had been their next aim for the sake of the
Carnival, which the presence of the Duke of York was
expected to make more brilliant than usual. But already
the tale of their expenses was ominous and they still
felt the handicap of their lack of Italian. It was decided,
therefore, to go to Genoa and thence by sea to Leghorn,
and to master the language in the course of a summer
spent in Florence.

Genoa was made more agreeable by the presence of
M. and Mme Celesia. Experience of the world had
cured Mallet's daughter of her romantic notions. She
was intelligent and good-natured, and Gibbon confessed
to a friendship with a strain of tenderness in it. Now
both husband and wife showered entertainments on the
young men for which Gibbon took all the credit to him-
self. They took them out to their country house where
nature obliged them with an Italian thunderstorm sharp
and short, and where acquaintance was made with a
new and more agreeable class of Italians. Walking in
the woods Gibbon saw many contadini^ and though most
of them went barefoot he observed with some surprise
their healthy appearance and cheerful air. Celesia told
him that they were virtuous, good, extremely responsive
to kind treatment or the reverse, and happy without
many reasons for being so.

THE TOUR OF ITALY

It was nearly the end of May, and Gibbon lamented that
the heat made him inconceivably lazy. Nevertheless he
made a study of Genoese history and visited the great
pa/azzi indefatigably, and churches too, where they
anticipated the manners of much-scolded humbler
tourists by pushing through the crowd during a sermon,
and training their glasses on the pictures in the midst
of the preacher's most moving expressions.

June had now come, but not the favourable wind that
should carry their felucca down the coast to Lerici.
There was nothing more to see. It was existence lost,
and the Journal died for want of nourishment. Gibbon
passed the time in reading Horace, in translating some
of his own collections and in reflecting upon the idioms
of the two languages. One morning his mind was full
of the problems of ancient money; but want of books
prevented him from doing much.

At last they could wait no longer. They must face the
loss of time and money and go round by way of Parma
and Bologna. So on the 1 2th June they set out for a
few days' hard travelling; making their way with diffi-
culty over the pass to Lombardy; posting from Pia-
cenza to reach Parma before the gates shut; getting to
Reggio after a short drive in the cool of the evening, and
sending out at once for dominoes for the Ridotto, where
the company was large and the play high; going to the
opera the next night and setting out at half-past one in
the morning to reach Modena at dawn; then one more
drive in the evening and Bologna at nine o'clock.

The flat vine-chained landscape where one brown
campanile quickly succeeds another was altogether to
Gibbon's taste. It was one garden, he said, from Pia-
cenza onwards, 'and as the town and even the capitals
touch one another, it is less a journey than an agreeable
promenade'.

Bologna and its school of painting deserved a fort-

175

EDWARD GIBBON

night or three weeks, and Gibbon hoped to devote some
time there on his way back. A traveller's tale or ex-
perience is embalmed in The Decline and FalL 'The
famous Bologna sausages are said to be made of ass-
flesh.' * Meanwhile they pushed on the next day, the
1 9th June.

'We left Bologna at three in the morning to cross the Apen-
nines for the third time. These Mountains are not high; they
are rather wide and extensive hills covering a deal of territory.
I know nothing more melancholy than their general view. At
long intervals you come on a poor village, and you do not even
see those pastures covered with flocks which do something to
brighten tile sight of most mountains. We had been so badly
provided with horses that we did not reach Florence till nine
in the evening. We stopped at a certain Charles Hatfield's an
innkeeper weB known among the English who speak very well
of him. To judge by our supper it would appear he deserves it.'

The next day the English called on them. There was
Lord Fordwich, 'who has become almost a Florentine* ;
Ponsonby, an old friend; Captain Hatsel, who had come
from Gibraltar with his friend, Captain Parry. Mr
Lyttelton, later to be known as the bad Lord, did not
call, but they were told that was just like his eccentric
ways.

'In the evening we drove to the Porta San Gallo. It is the
general and boring rendezvous of the Florentine nobility who
come there to take the air or rather the dust. I did not notice
much beauty or magnificence.*

In a few days they leanxt with the other English to
prefer the Cascine, 'a fine meadow surrounded by trees'.

If only the Florentines would realise how very much a
gathering of society would enhance it I*

They were now taken charge of by Sir Horace Mann,
the indispensable minister whose task for thirty years
had been as much to restrain or retrieve young men

' The Decline and Fall, c. xlL m 88.

176-

THE TOUR OF ITALY

from their scrapes as to represent his nation at the Tus-
can court. Gibbon found him 'an agreeable man, quiet
and polished, but somewhat wrapped up in a round of
important trifles'. He had become altogether Italian.

Mann's house on the Lungarno 1 stood open to all
respectable comers, and Gibbon notes that he and Guise
dined or spent the evening there so frequently that he
does not always record the fact. Not content with
giving excellent dinners, the minister was at pains to
introduce his visitors to the best society and to every
entertainment that was afoot. One of his first services
to Gibbon and Guise was to secure them places in the
Regent's box for the horse-race through the Corso a
narrow main street which, though in honour of St.
John, was held on St. Peter's Day.

The Journal contains an elaborate description of this
race, as also of the ceremony of homage to the Emperor,
Grand Duke of Tuscany in the Piazza Signoria, and the
chariot races the next day in the Piazza Santa Maria
Novella. The noise and colour; the elaborate pageantry
combined with haphazard organisation ; the old English
horse of twenty-three years who was generally expected
to win ; the system of flashing the winner's number from
the top of Giotto's Campanile; the crowd docilely
taking the bufferings of the Austrian soldiers are
vividly detailed. The chariot race was a less fashionable
assembly, and as the horses all belonged to one job-
master the competition was nominal. In any case the
racing was not to be compared with the meetings at
home. But it was worth observing that not only were
these entertainments of venerable antiquity but

*the presence of the prince and even of religion give it a much
more dignified air. Plainly the Florentines cherish this custom
as the sole relic of their ancient liberty . , . and since the ancient
games it is perhaps the only spectacle of the pleasure of a whole
1 Now the H6td Gran Bittagna.

177 N

EDWARD GIBBON

when he was present, with a stream of talk on poetry,
politics and chemistry. He appears to have taken a
fancy to Gibbon and Guise and treated them to some-
what embarrassing attention. Gibbon observed with
quiet amusement that his ideas of economy amounted
to limitless extravagance. He was vain and ambitious
and sought to combine the two characters of philo-
sopher and libertine. He had no interest in art or
antiquities and said that one could see Rome in twenty
days. 'That is enough for me', is Gibbon's comment. 1

Another traveller was about to sail for Constantinople
with the Venetian ambassador. Gibbon would have
liked to be going too. *Un voyage de la Grce ne peut
que piquer la curiosit.' Fate did not intend that he
should be deflected from his true goal. But we should
be careful not to under-estimate Gibbon's interest in
Hellenism.

Fourteen visits to the Uffizi alone indicate the differ-
ence between Gibbon and his wild acquaintance. The
antiquities were studied with minute care. The interest
in the fine arts does not seem very spontaneous; but
Gibbon went through the business conscientiously, ad-
hering pretty closely to the official taste of the day.

He betrays a curious literalness and prosaic desire for
illusion. This perhaps is the cause of a greater interest
in sculpture. JBut the precarious postures of Dawn
and Night in the Medici Chapel were very disturbing,
and there is a characteristic confusion of sensual and
aesthetic perceptions in a long note on the Venus del
Medici. He could not get over the absence of correct
drawing in the primitives. But the one master whom he
really disliked was the accomplished Veronese. His

1 He was also the hero of an extraordinary scene at Lucca. See passages
from the Journal printed with the names suppressed in Misc. Wks. v. 484-5.
Among other young Englishmen in Florence was Henry Swinburne, whose
books on travel are referred to in The Decline and Fall.

180

THE TOUR OF ITALY

style and colouring displeased; and he was intellectually
incapable of blending the divine and human elements in
the Infant Jesus.

But servile imitation was not enough. On this score
and for their choice of the lowest subjects, he is com-
pelled to dismiss the Flemish artists, though it is clear
he was much attracted by them. Similarly he had little
interest in portraiture, since the close copying of the
particular excluded any ideal generalisations. Never-
theless he abandons his own principles in front of
Raphael's Julius II. Raphael was the first of painters,
and his Transfiguration in S. Pietro in Montorio in Rome
the finest picture in the world. But the painter to whom
Gibbon really warms is Rubens.

Gibbon's remarks on architecture are of no great
interest. Gothic was only suggestive of ruin and weak-
ness ; while to other buildings he applied the classic rules
of proportions with minute pedantry. But he was re-
sponsive to the aura of famous buildings, and before he
had left Florence he had recorded some impressions
which unconsciously foreshadow the conclusion of his
history and are a true prelude to the supreme moment
that was to come in Rome.

Of the Palazzo Riccardi he says :

*I could not enter without secret awe this cradle of the arts in
a house whence the light has spread all over the West, where
under the eyes of Lorenzo the Magnificent, a Politian, a Las-
caris, a Gaza, a Pico della Mirandola and a Marsilius Ficinus
made the great men of Greece and Rome lire once more for the
instruction of their contemporaries.*

Again, these words on Santa Croce foreshadow the
style and sentiment of The Decline and Fatt\

*The architecture is undistinguished; but it was not without a
secret respect that I looked upon the tombs of Galileo and
Michael Angdo, the restorer of the arts and of philosophy

181

EDWARD GIBBON

respectively; truly powerful and original geniuses. They have
shed greater glory on their country than conquerors or
politicians. The Tartars have had a Jenghiz Khan and the
Goths an Alaric, hut we turn our eyes from the bloodstained
plains of Scythia to fix them with pleasure on Athens and
Florence.'

It was 'now September, an Italian September, but the
great heat of summer was over. The crown of the tour
was approaching. On the 22nd Gibbon left Florence
and 'the sharp and barren ridge of the hills of Faesulae', 1
promising himself to keep a shorter but not less in-
teresting journal. The road led first to Pistoia, with
reflexions on Sulla's veterans ; thence to Lucca, where
the opera was said to be the best in Italy, and was art-
fully put on at a time when the season in other cities
was over. At Pisa Gibbon found some relatives. Com-
modore Acton and his nephew, and with them crossed
'the dreary unwholesome uncultivated Maremme of
modern Tuscany* 2 to reach Leghorn.

The elder Acton had joined the Roman Church in his
old age, thus cutting himself off from his compatriots
in Leghorn and prejudicing his nephew's position. It
was a definite scandal to the English colony and Gibbon
had to explain to Parson Burnaby and others that he
could not neglect relations from whom he had received
nothing but kindness. In consequence the interest of
their visit was considerably impaired. Gibbon had had
one more instance at first hand of the foolish estrange-
ments that can be brought about by religious disagree-
ments.

Thence to Siena where they fell in with Lord Mount
Stuart once more, who took them to an assembly. *The
women were so ugly and the men so ignorant that I had

* The Decline and Folly c. aanc. (4-48).

* The Decline and Fall, c. xxri. n. 57.

182

THE TOUR OF ITALY

not the slightest desire to stay in a town whose society
I had heard praised up so much/

The last stage approached and was duly headed in the
Journal :

'October 1764. On the road from Siena to Rome.

'September 3Oth. I have got as far as Radicofani, a small
frontier town of Tuscany. The country is really frightful. I
have never seen barer or more unproductive mountains.

'Monday ist. From Radicofani to Viterbo. The country is
already better. We are in the Papal States. I saw from a dis-
tance the Lake of Bolsena. 1 Volsinii was actually situated at
the bottom of the woods which rise from the lakeside.

'Tuesday 2nd. The Campagna of Rome! A beautiful plain
once the mountain of Viterbo is passed. It seems in this country
that the more nature has done for men the more they neglect
her gifts. We reached Rome at five in the evening, r rom the
Pons Milvius I was in a dream of antiquity which was only
interrupted by the Customs officers, a very modern race who
obliged us to go on foot to look for a lodging, for there are no
inns, while they took our chaise to the customs house. The
approach to Rome is not pleasing.'

Gibbon gives a delicious account of his impressions to
his father on 9th October:

*I am now, Dear Sir, at Rome. If it was difficult before to
give you or Mrs. Gibbon any account of what I saw, it is im-
possible here, I have already such a fund of entertainment for a
mind somewhat prepared for it by an acquaintance with the
Romans, that I am really almost in a dream. Whatever ideas
books may have given us of the greatness of that people, their
accounts of the most flourishing state of Rome fell infinitely
short of the picture of its ruins. I am convinced there never,
never existed such a nation, and I hope for the happiness of man-
kind there never will again, I was this morning upon the top
of Trajan's pillar. I shall not attempt a description of it. Only
figure to yourself a column 140 feet high of the purest white
marble, composed only of about 30 blocks and wrought into

1 'It is surrounded -with white rocks and stored with fish and mid-fowl'
(TAe Decline and Folly c. xlL n. 55).

183

EDWARD GIBBON

bas-reliefs with as much taste and delicacy as any chimney-piece
at Up-park/

In a letter from Florence, Gibbon, eager as always to
justify his travels, had said that the solid foundations
laid at Lausanne were not forgotten, and he did not
despair of producing something by way of a description
of ancient Italy which might be of some use to the pub-
lic and of some credit to himself. Now his impressions
were both narrowing that idea, and at the same time
sowing for an ultimate expansion as yet undreamt of.
Six days after this letter the supreme moment came.
The date, the hour and the moment could be remem-
bered precisely and always with emotion. The record
of it is unforgettable. It would be foolish to omit it
here on the score of familiarity; but I quote from one
of Gibbon's original versions:

*It was on the fifteenth of October in the gloom of evening, as
I sat musing on the Capitol, while the barefooted fiyars were
chanting their litanies in the temple of Jupiter, that I conceived
the first thought of my history. My original plan was confined
to the decay of the City; my reading and reflection pointed to
that aim; but several years elapsed, and several avocations inter-
vened, before I grappled with the decline and fall of the Roman
Empire. 1

Only a little less familiar but if anything more sig-
nificant is the recorded impression made by the Forum,
then at the height of its romantic appeal when cattle
grazed near the capitals of its buried columns:

* After a sleepless night, I trod, with a lofty step, the ruins of
the Forum; each memorable spot where Romulus stood* or

1 Memoir D, Afamjy, p. 405. The vulgate text is a conflation of Memoirs C,
E and D. In Memoir C, Murray, p. 270, Gibbon says be sat musing in the
church of the Zoccolanri or Franciscan fryars. This is the church of Santa
Maria in Ara Coeli, built not on the site of a temple of Jupiter but of Juno.
Gibbon was misled by his authority Nardini. It is in this Memoir that Gibbon
refers to his Journal for the record of the date. But the extant Journal ends
with his arrival in Rome except for a few notes on works of art written in
December 1764.

184

THE TOUR OF ITALY

Tully spoke, or Caesar fell, was at once present to my eye; and
several days of intoxication were lost or enjoyed before I could
descend to a cool and minute investigation.'

A fundamental inspiration of his history is implicit in
these words. Gibbon never forgets that he is writing of
a decline and fall from an age in which political freedom
and great literature had flourished together. That they
were almost necessary complements of one another, is
an assumption that has been drawn from an idealised
and partial view of those two conspicuous periods of
history, fifth-century Athens and Republican Rome. It
is still one which the world might be wise to gamble on.

For Gibbon at any rate the proof lay in the scene be-
fore him: *In Rome the voice of freedom and discord is

no longer heard; and instead of the foaming torrent, a
, ~ fi /**_ii

eye and its poetry seems to enter his writing in spite of
himself. Unlike some modern sentimentalists he would
have admired Mussolini's reclaimed acres even if he
detested his principles. His canvas is at once mellow
and trenchant.

'The first and most natural root of a great citv is the labour
and populousness of the adjacent country. But me greater part
of the Campagna of Rome is reduced to a dreary and desolate
wilderness: the ovemrown estates of the princes and the clergy
are cultivated by the lazy hands of indigent and hopeless vassals;
and the scanty harvests are confined or exported for the benefit
of a monopoly. A second and more artificial cause of the growth
of a metropolis is the residence of a monarch, the expense of a
luxurious court, and the tributes of dependent provinces. Those
provinces and tributes had been lost in the fell of the empire;
and if some streams of the silver of Peru and the gold of Brazil
have been attracted by the Vatican, the revenues of the car-
dinals, the fees of office, the oblations of pilgrims and clients, and
the remnant of ecclesiastical taxes, afford a poor and precarious

* The Decline and Fall, c. let (8-264).

185

EDWARD GIBBON

supply, which maintains, however, the idleness of the court and
city. The population of Rome, far below the measure of the
great capitals of Europe, does not exceed one hundred and
seventy thousand inhabitants; and within the spacious enclosure
of the walls, the largest portion of the seven hills is overspread
with vineyards and ruins. The beauty and splendour of the
modern city may be ascribed to the abuses of the government,
to the influence of superstition. Each reign (the exceptions are
rare) has been marked by the rapid elevation of a new family,
enriched by the childless pontiff at the expense of the church
and country. The palaces of these fortunate nephews are the
most costly monuments of elegance and servitude: the perfect
arts of architecture, painting and sculpture, have been prosti-
tuted in their service; and their galleries and gardens are
decorated with the most precious works of antiquity. The
ecclesiastical revenues were more decently employed by the
popes themselves in the pomp of the Catholic worship; but it is
superfluous to enumerate their pious foundations since these
lesser stars are eclipsed by the sun of the Vatican, by the dome
of St. Peter, the most glorious structure that ever has been
applied to the use of religion. The fame of Julius the Second,
Leo the Tenth and Sixtus the Fifth, is accompanied by the
superior merit of Bramante and Fontana, of Raphael and
Michael Angelo; and the same munificence which had been
displayed in palaces and temples was directed with equal zeal to
revive and emulate the labours of antiquity. Prostrate obelisks
were raised from the ground; of the eleven aqueducts of the
Caesars and consuls three were restored; the artificial rivers
were conducted over a long series of old or of new arches, to
discharge into marble basins a flood of salubrious and refreshing
waters; and the spectator impatient to ascend the steps of St.
Peter's, is detained by a column of Egyptian granite, which
rises between two lofty and perpetual fountains to the height of
one hundred and twenty feet' I

Such was the scene through which Gibbon moved
during c this winter of enchantment*. During the first
two months he was under the care of James Byers, a
true forerunner of modern agencies, who combined the

1 The Decline and Fa% c. hnri. (8-287). The extract has been slightly
shortened; apologies are offered to any can offended by mutilated rhythms.

186

THE TOUR OF ITALY

valuable functions of banker, art-dealer and guide. Of
his social life there we know hardly anything. From
Holroyd who joined his friends there come a few glean-
ings. An Irishman, Meighan, was their tailor, and at the
Carnival a ballet was performed called Voxhatt^ Giardino
Inglese. But Rome was still a place of real awe to a
Protestant, and circumspection of behaviour was prob-
ably accepted as inevitable. 1 Moreover, Roman society
could not have been so accessible as Florentine.
Naturally and inevitably therefore Gibbon could say
that

*my conversation was with the dead rather than the living, and
the whole college of Cardinals was of less value in my eyes than
the transfiguration of Raphael, the Apollo of the Vatican, or
the massy greatness of the Coliseum/ 2

Nor could his eye be accused of idle straying when he
noted that 'the matrons from beyond the Tiber still
represent the features and character of antiquity'. 3

After some five weeks the dream of antiquity was ex-
pelled by a nightmare that had become too familiar. In
August, Gibbon had commented in his Journal on the
occasion of writing to his father,

*it is strange that I have not had any letters from there since the
end of March, I know them; so I am not alarmed. I know
that it is a sign that they are not displeased with me. Practically
only a fit of bad temper can overcome their laziness and put a
pen in their hands.*

Now Mr Gibbon made himself felt once more in a
peculiarly aggravating and baffling manner. He had
written a letter to which his son in reply refers in words
which had almost become a formula in their corre-

1 Gibbon was very likely in Rome in March 1765 when his acquaintances,
the two Darners, were involved in a brawl resulting in the death of an Italian
coach man. Doran, Mann and Moaners at the Court of Florence, iL p. 132.

a Murray, p. 302.

3 The Decline and Fall, c. Led. (8-282).

187

EDWARD GIBBON

spondence: 'I . . . could scarcely have thought that any
one from you could give me so much uneasiness as this
has done'. The j 10,000 raised six years ago had ap-
parently gone, with 1200 after it. So Mr Gibbon
was proposing to sell the Lenborough estate in Bucks,
which his son had been taught to look on as the fairest
portion of their estate. Where was this going to end?
In real dismay but not without a sly touch of irony
Gibbon foresees the day when, left alone without half
his father's knowledge of business, he might very well
find himself in gaol.

Meanwhile he proposed that it would be better to sell
the Putney property, and repeated his plan for raising a
fund for his father, with the reward of a further increase
of his own annuity. Since he was fairly certain that he
would now never marry, he had no wish to look beyond
the lives of Mr and Mrs Gibbon and himself.

What was for the moment a worse stroke was to
follow in less than a month. Gibbon was travelling with
a general credit all over Italy given by his banker at
Lausanne. Early in December this was mysteriously
stopped. Barazzi, his banker in Rome, showed him the
letter he had received. No doubt it was circulated to all
the big towns and Gibbon might well believe that his
character in Italy was ruined, more particularly as he
had just drawn for jioo which would probably be pro-
tested. Meanwhile he could not stir from Rome and
was in danger of being suspected for a rogue and adven-
turer. The trouble must have started from his last
Florentine draft's having been protested, and he asks
his father with great pertinence how could a letter have
had time to go from London to Florence, from Florence
to Lausanne and thence again to Rome, without the
smallest intimation meanwhile from Mr Gibbon to his
son.

The matter was set right, and when Gibbon was able

188

THE TOUR OF ITALY

to draw again he drew for a considerable amount for
fear of renewed difficulties. The precaution was justi-
fied. When the travellers reached Venice in April 1 765,
the banker there, 'a sour suspicious old fellow', made
such difficulties, in spite of the assurance of renewed
credit, that Gibbon told him at last he wanted neither
his money nor his company. He was thankful to be in a
position to talk so. What makes the incident of especial
interest to a later age is that the banker humiliated
Gibbon especially by raking up the history of the pro-
tested letter in Guise's presence, and Gibbon had spent
several months of very real distress in his company
without saying a word about his troubles.
A short excursion to Naples in the first quarter of
1765 served to render Gibbon a better Englishman, so
he told his stepmother, without adopting all the honest
prejudices of a Hampshire farmer. 'Racked and battered
on the broken remains of the old Appian way 1 and
reaching inns only to wish they could leave immedi-
ately, they surveyed 'the wretched state of this fine
country and the misery of its idle and oppressed in-
habitants'. At Naples they looked to Mr Hamilton to
present them to the boy king, anticipating that 'It must
be a most ridiculous farce of Majesty'. They had now
reached the ordinary limit of the tourists' grand chain
'our only Peer is Lord Berkeley with whom we are just
going to dine' and by March they had returned to
Rome, thence to cross the Apennines to Loretto, and
follow the Aemilian Way along the Adriatic, reaching
Venice in April. Venice came in for some hard words:
'old and in general ill built houses, ruined pictures and
stinking ditches ... a fine bridge spoilt by two Rows of
houses upon it, and a large square decorated with the
worst Architecture I ever yet saw*. But Gibbon admits
he was out of humour with the place. Apart from the
disagreeable incident of the banker, there were no

189

EDWARD GIBBON

English in residence, and communication with the
natives was strictly forbidden.

Regarding the final stage of the tour, it had been left
uncertain whether he should go to Germany, or work
his way back through France. Now he learned that the
family would like to see him back in May, ostensibly on
account of a militia meeting. Pleading for an extension
of six weeks or so, he proposed to return over the Mont
Cenis, see something of IProvence and Languedoc and
take ship home from Bordeaux. A more peremptory
summons, however, led to the curtailment of this
pleasant project. 'After a pretty troublesome passage of
the Mont Cenis', Lyons was reached at the end of May.
Here Gibbon saw Guise leave 'to swim down the Rhone*
it must have been sadly tantalising but as he him-
self had had letters convincing him that he ought no
longer to deprive his country of one of its greatest orna-
ments, he reluctantly turned north, and after 'about ten
delicious days at Paris', reached England at the end of
June 1765. He was not to go abroad again for twelve
years.

The last act of Gibbon's romantic comedy coincided
neatly with the final stage of his tour.

In the early months of 1764 Suzanne Curchod's
friends had remained sadly concerned about her future.
What she had recovered of her mother's estate was
trifling. On the other hand, she had refused a post in
England, 1 and another in Switzerland. Julie de Bondeli
did not shrink from accusing her of false delicacy. 2
Suzanne herself seems to have fallen into a state of
inertia, nursing 'son cceur d6sesp6r du mrite des morts
et des dfauts des vivants'. 3

1 A note in Add. MSS. 34887 says she was offered a post by the Duke of
Grafton; the matter fell through as she demanded a separate table for herself.
a Bodemann, op. at. p. 325.
* F. Golowkin, Lettres dwerses recueil&s en Stasse, 1821, pp. 232 sqq.

190

THE TOUR OF ITALY

Meanwhile the Moultou household had another in-
teresting inmate. Madame de Vermenoux was a young
widow by no means averse from male society, who had
been spending some time in Geneva to be near the
celebrated Dr. Tronchin. She liked Suzanne and
offered to take her back to Paris as dame de compagnie.
Moultou and others apparently urged acceptance, and
Suzanne left in June, complaining that her friends had
uprooted her unnecessarily from Switzerland where all
her interests lay. She would not conceal her ill-humour.
Within six months news was going round Geneva again,
and the flirtatious old Le Sage entered in his journal
for ist December, 'Mile Suzette Curchod Spouse
M. Jacques Necker, banquier k Paris'. This was ex-
tremely satisfactory for everyone.

M. Necker was assuredly s&rieux. One of the founders
of Thelusson Necker et Cie, he had long been eminent
for his unremitting industry and speculative astuteness.
A man of blameless life in the ordinary sense, for he had
had no life outside his office. He was not uneducated.
He had read his Cicero at college in Geneva, where he
had been born, being the son of a German who had
married into the aristocratic bourgeoisie. Now at the
age of thirty-two he had made a fortune and at the same
time was, in his daughter's words of enthusiastic sym-
pathy, *si jeune, si aimable, si seulV

His one taste of the pleasures of life had been ap-
parently to dangle after Mme de Vermenoux. It is not
known why she did not become Mme Necker or if
either desired such a change. But a sense of comedy is
reluctant to believe other than that the lady was fore-
stalled by her dame de compagnie. At least the stock
ingredients were there: the charming homeless girl a
paid servant, not altogether happy or at home in Paris,
if reports are to be accepted, exposed even to* reproof

1 Mme de Stael, (Ewirs, ii. 262, cited by Kohler, op. tit. p. 6.

191

EDWARD GIBBON

before visitors for her provincial manners; and then her
compatriothitherto heart-whole, ready to be sympathetic,
to be interested and impressed, and so to offer her the
wealth and position which he, an exile too, had won.
He was quickly at her feet. Suzanne's proper hesita-
tion lasted a few weeks. Necker was inspired to make a
hasty trip to Geneva and consult the invaluable Moul-
tou. Soon afterwards Mile Curchod was informing a
friend in Switzerland that she was uniting herself with
a man who was an angel except for his weakness in
choosing her. His qualities were of more worth than
his 80,000 livres de rente. 1

Mme Necker did not dissemble the gratification of
receiving her old lover amid the new splendour of the
rue Michel le Comte. Gibbon reached Paris in June;
five months later she was dilating upon the event to
Mme de Brenles. It had been an unspeakable pleasure.
Not that she had any feeling for a man who scarcely
deserved it. But feminine vanity had never had a more
complete or honourable triumph. During two weeks in
Paris Gibbon had been at her house every day. He had
become gentle, submissive and a model of propriety.
He had seen what a clever devoted husband she had,
and with his ardent admiration of wealth he had made
her for the first time take notice of that with which she
was surrounded; or at least till then it had only made
a disagreeable impression on her. 2 May not Mme de
Brenles have smiled to herself?

Gibbon had his confidant too and the comedy was in
no danger of falling flat. To 'Leger' he wrote waggishly,
though with some slips of the pen which possibly betray

1 Golowkin, op. fit.

a Golowkin, op. cit. pp. 265-6. The letter is dated 7th November 1765. The
passage is printed in Letters, i. 81, n. i. One sentence omitted by Golowkin
may be added from the MS. in the BibliothSqpe Cantonale of T^naa^
After saying 'j'ai vo Gibbon' she adds: 'et en verite" 1 y jouoit un R6k assez
mince*.

192

THE TOUR OF ITALY
a nervous excitement which he would have disclaimed:

'The Curchod [Mme NeckerJ 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.' l

But what joy to trip her up on this delicate point:

4 1 was (perhaps indiscreetly enough)*, he continues artfully,
'exalting Nanette de Illens's good luck and fortune. "What
fortune?" said she with an air of contempt, "not above 20,000
livres a year." I smiled, and she caught herself immediately.
"What airs I give myself in despising twenty thousand livres a
year, who a year ago looked upon Soo as the summit of my
wishes." '

1 Prothero, i. 81, 'supper*, "handsome as ever*. Actually the MS. indubitably
has 'summer* and 'handsome as every*. It must be admitted that this particular
kind of slip is found several times in Gibbon's MSS.

193

Chapter

MANY DISTRACTIONS
1765-1770

E great tour finished. Gibbon was prepared to
JL acknowledge his obligations by settling down with
his father and stepmother in the mixed state of liberty
and dependence which he had already known.

The programme was to be much as formerly, a free
alternation between London and Buriton, subject only
to the limits of his annuity and the demands of filial
duty. No more appears to have been said about Parlia-
ment, and the only public service required of him was
the yearly attendance with the militia. This entailed a
residence of four weeks at Southampton. Gibbon was
now, as he sometimes facetiously signs himself, the
Major, and in 1768 he became Lieut.-Colonel com-
manding. Each year he was 'more disgusted with the
inn, the wine, the company, and the tiresome repetition
of annual attendance and daily exercise*. He resigned
finally in 1770.

In town the returned traveller might expect to profit
by the acquaintance made abroad. There were clubs:
the Cocoa Tree, the School of Vice, 'as innocent a Club
as any in town', and Boodle's or the SavoirFaire. There
was too the Romans, a weekly convivial meeting for
those who had made the great pilgrimage. 1 Gibbon
himself had instituted this club and looked forward to
the meetings eagerly. It was still existing in 1773. Of

1 A list of the members given by Sheffield in Misc. Wks. i. 200.

194

MANY DISTRACTIONS

Guise, the constant companion of the Italian journey.
Gibbon saw little in after-days. His connexions were
with men rather than women, and they, 'though far from
contemptible in rank and fortune, were not of the first
eminence in the literary and political world 7 . 1 The con-
text, fairly judged, implies by 'women' drawing-room
society. In spite of increased acquaintance he still
found 'the avenues of society fortified 7 , and hardly
knew himself in the immense city; though invitations
multiplied he disliked the formality, and regretted 'the
small parties of Lausanne where one might pass an
evening without form or invitation*. Yet among the
bachelors he had not the means to stand the pace. It was
not so much that his 'virtues of temperance and sobriety
had not completely recovered themselves from the
wounds of the militia 7 . That would be the least dam-
aging of their diversions. Amid the reckless gambling
of those days Gibbon could take only a moderate part.
He had some slight leaning towards play in spite of his
many protestations. As for general conversation, he had
not yet established himself as an oracle of learning and
anecdotes. Perhaps from this period comes the ex-
perience which gave rise to the gibe of 'the proud
ignorance so dear and familiar to a polished people** 2

Whatever temptations he had to be extravagant, he
resisted them, and was able to tell Mrs Gibbon after his
fathers death that he had always lived within his allow-
ance of 300 a year, that the only other money he had
from his father was once 400, nearly 100 of which
were arrears of his allowance; he had returned most of
this to his father when he needed it. He had not got
into debt and had not lost 100 at any one time; per-
haps not in the course of his life, so he said.

The qualified independence which had been pleasing
at the age of twenty-one, fell far short of satisfying a man

1 Murrcg, p. 273. a The Dec&u eoui Fall, c. WiL n. 76.

'95

EDWARD GIBBON

of thirty. Gibbon had determined to achieve some
memorable; but meanwhile the goal was far off and
vaguely discerned, and the route to it filled with un-
certainties. Part of the price of his ambition was the
humiliation of standing still while others were advancing
in one or other of the professions that he too might have
chosen. He need not have been too severe on himself for
that. His physique, the accidents of his life and, above
all, his father's way of ordering things cannot be left
out of the account. His father having brought him
up to live as an independent gentleman, was now likely
to ruin the achievement of this ideal if his own not
conspicuously useful life was prolonged. The son's
position was ignominious and might have been em-
bittering.

Winter by winter these invasions of the town were
repeated ^ith decreasing frequency. The growing em-
barrassment of the estate and Mr Gibbon's declining
health were the reasons. Finally such visits as were
made were chiefly devoted to conferring with lawyers
and trustees. Gibbon became charged with the manage-
ment of a chaos for which he was not responsible and
which he could not clear up. Not merely were Mr
Gibbon's debts still such that it was proposed to sell the
Putney and Hampshire estates, while some of the re-
maining property was to be vested in Gibbon though
charged with annuity and jointure for his parents, but
the bulk of his correspondence during these years re-
veals a dreary tale of time spent in search for lost deeds,
of his father's obstruction and suspicion and last-minute
rebellions against proposals which had been painfully
explained to him, and lastly of the false gentility by
which Mr Gibbon was led to oppose advertising the
Putney estate. A stirring rebuke from James Scott
gives a spontaneous and independent corroboration of
Gibbon's dutifulness :

196

MANY DISTRACTIONS

*. . . You look all on your own side and nothing on your Sons,
you seem to forget how much he has given up and how much
he dos now, it is not a Son in a thousand that would have don
as much, he says that instead of your acknowledging it, he
receives nothing but angry letters, and that you are very angry
with him because he dos not do everything you want him to
do, and in your own manner and that you seam to have no
regard for him but everything for yourself. I daresay Sir that
when you think coolly and put yourself in his place, you will
alter your way of thinking and will not drive him to do that he
would not willingly do without vour forceing him to it My
Dear Sir, I do'nt write this out of any disregard to you, far from
it, but what I really think is right, and I dare say if all circum-
stances were to be laid before the world, which God forbid it
ever should it would think the same/ J

Meetings with Holroyd do not appear to have been
frequent. But the friendship begun abroad was only
waiting suitable circumstances to develop. Holroyd had
prolonged his tour into Germany and after returning
appears to have been away, probably on the family pro-
perties in Ireland and Yorkshire. 2 Gibbon was left and
expresses no surprise at it to hear of his friend's mar-
riage in 1767 to Abigail Way, from a notice in the St.
James's Chronicle. Thereafter there is little evidence of
intercourse between them until 1769, when Holroyd
bought Sheffield Place in Sussex from Lord de la Warn
At once Gibbon was getting more invitations to visit
there than he could accept in those perturbed days.
The real blossoming of this friendship belongs to the
time after Mr Gibbon's death. In the years before
that, a great deal of interest and consolation was found
in Georges Deyverdun's company.

After four years (i 76 1-5) oftutoring the Margrave of
Schavedt, the'young Swiss came to London in 1765, and

1 Brit. Mus. 11907, dd. 25 (2).

* There is no letter extant to Holroyd between 3ist October 1765 and 2?th
April 1767. There are in any case only two other letters of Gibbon surviving
from this period.

197

EDWARD GIBBON

spent the summer of that year and the three following
at Buriton. His position was like Gibbon's in so far as
his present means were negligible, though he had pro-
spects of a considerable inheritance. Meanwhile, unlike
Gibbon, he had to find a living. After some time a
clerkship was obtained for him in the Secretary of
State's office, where David Hume was Under-Secretary.
It was an appointment which Gibbon claims to have
had a part in securing. His influence was more likely
to have been exerted through someone like his uncle
Stanier Porten than through Hume. 1 It is doubtful
whether he knew the historian at this time, and the later
relations of these three men point to Deyverdun's being
nearer to Hume than his friend.

Hume had only received his own appointment a
month before Deyverdun. 2 The coincidence is curious,
because Deyverdun had been brought to Hume's notice
for the first time in 1 766 through his meddling in the
absurd quarrel with Rousseau. 3

The position indeed was felt to be unequal both to
Deyverdun's rank and to his powers. At any rate he had
time on his hands. The friends could look about for
other means of advancing either the one or the other.

The first enterprise was one which only concerned

1 Porten had been appointed Secretary to Lord Rochford's extraordinary
embassy to France in 1766. In 1768 he himself was appointed Under-Secre-
tary when Rochford became Secretary of State Northern Department. Home
Office Papers (1766-9), p. 4355 Hist. MSS. Comm. 3rd Rep. App. p. 138.

z Hume's apipointment was 2ist February and Deyveraun's 4th March
1767, 'in Mr. Secretary Conway's office*. On zoth January 1768, when Lord
Weymouth was sworn in as Secretary of State, Deyverdun appears among his
clerks. Weymouth changed to the Southern Department on 2ist October
and took his clerks with him. In Ryal Kalendar, 1767, 4 De Verdun* is a
clerk in the Northern Department; Court and City Register, 1769, gives 'Geo.
Dryverdun* in the Souttern Department- See also Home Office Papers, vol. iL
(1766-69), pp. 161, 162, 293.

3 DeyYerdun's letter, dated 'Londres le 18 novembre 1766 at M. Mennet's in
Denmark Street, Soho Square*, is in Letters of Eminent Persons to David
Hume (1849), PP- 2 97 W- See also Hume's fetter to Davenport of 27th
NoTember 1766, J. Y. T. Greig, Letters ofD. Hume, ii. p. 113.

198

MANY DISTRACTIONS

Gibbon, but which was impossible without Deyverdun's
help. A history of the Swiss Republics had long been
planned and much of the sources that were in Latin
or French had been surveyed. Further progress was
barred by ignorance of German. It was here that Dey-
verdun could and did help Gibbon by translating
copiously from chronicles and earlier historians. In the
summer of 1767 Gibbon was able to begin composing
and wrote forty-three folio pages. Deyverdun's presence
again fortified early predilections and Gibbon wrote in
French. Anxious to have an early opinion on the work
they contrived to have it read aloud to a literary society
of foreigners in London. Gibbon sat among the audi-
ence, the unknown author, and had the mortification
of hearing his work freely criticised and condemned.
On reflexion he owned that they were right and aban-
doned the work.

Hume, on the other hand, to whom the manuscript
had been shown through Deyverdun's mediation, ex-
horted Gibbon to go on with his design. He had only
one objection to make. Why did Gibbon compose in
French and carry faggots into the wood, as Horace
said with regard to Romans who wrote in Greek?
Hume compared the fates of Latin and Greek in
Western Europe and went on to apply the lesson. The
present supremacy of French might be allowed. But
*our solid and increasing establishments in America,
where we needlessly dread the inundation of Barbarians,
promise a superior stability and duration to the English
language*. 1

Gibbon very properly replied to the honour of this
letter with unusual promptness:

'SiR,

'Your approbation will always flatter me infinitely more

1 Misc. Wks. i. 204, and Greig^ op. cit. iL p. 170; Burton, Life of Hum*,
ii. 4x0 sqq.

199

EDWARD GIBBON

than the applause of an undistinguishing multitude. I am per-
suaded that your judgement is sincere, and if sincere I am well
assured it is just. I could wish to have avoided your general
objection to the language I have made use of. It is really more
the effect of accident than of choice. The five years (from
sixteen to twenty-one) which I passed in Switzerland formed
my style as well as my ideas. I write in French because I think
in French and strange as it may seem, I can say with some
shame but with no affectation, that it would be a matter of
difficulty to me to compose in my native language. I must
indeed acknowledge that a desire of being more generally read,
invited me to indulge my taste for the French tongue. Your
prophesy though extremely probable, concerns me but little. A
Hume (if you will excuse the instance) may leave a /crg/ia Is
aei, but the ambition of us plebeian writers is limited to a much
narrower term, both of space and of duration. My vanity will be
gratified if I am read with some pleasure by a few of my con-
temporaries, without aiming to instruct or amuse our posterity
on die other side of the Atlantick ocean, Your opinion win
however, Sir, have always so great a weight with me that when
I have finished the work which your kind approbation en-
courages me to pursue, I will endeavour to put it into an English
dress; at the risque perhaps of appearing a foreigner to my own
countrymen, and of betraying myself to foreigners for an Eng-
lishman.

*I fear that the Amtitiosa ornamenta which you censure so
tenderly deserve a much severer sentence, and that many of
them are not even entitled to the poor excuse of fashion or
custom. Were I not sensible how precious your time is to your-
self and to the publick, I could wish you would point out some
of those which offended you the most. Your corrections would
serve to guide me in the remainder of my course,

e l propose myself the honour of waiting on you on my arrival
in town, and of assuring you of the esteem and gratitude with
which I am,

'Dear Sir,

* Your most obedient humble servant,

*E. GIBBON, Junior

'BERITON, October 25/A, 1767.' I

i Communicated to me by Prof. C EL Webster.
20O

MANY DISTRACTIONS

In spite of this encouragement Gibbon was wise not
to continue this history either in French or English.
He was mistaken rather oddly in saying in his Auto-
biography that he burnt what he had written. The
manuscript survives and was printed by Lord Sheffield.
Although the writing and composition reveal a great
advance on the Essai, the writer has not done more than
embroider, sometimes too floridly as Hume remarked
in his letter, an agreeable narrative on the framework
of his authorities. The critical and creative mind is
absent. Gibbon came to the conclusion that French had
not yet yielded the ideal style 'to sustain the vigour and
dignity of an important narrative' and it would not be
for a foreigner to evolve it. Moreover his narrative was
not important, and that would have been fatally seen
had he translated it into English.

It may be supposed that during this winter of 17678
Gibbon took the opportunity of seeing something of
Hume. He says that it was the Mtmoires Litteraires that
brought both him and Deyverdun to Hume's notice. 1
That is clearly incorrect. But the scantiest record of the
acquaintance remains. When Holroyd was visiting
Edinburgh in 1773, Gibbon hoped that he would not
fail to visit the sty of that fattest of Epicurus's Hogs
and inform himself whether there remained no hope of
its recovering the use of its right paw. 2 But he suggests
no personal message. That may be an accident. Of
their actual meetings only one small testimony remains.
Among the annotations in Gibbon's hand in the first
volume of The Decline and Fall in the British Museum
we read: 'N.B. Mr. Hume told me that in correcting
his history he always laboured to reduce superlatives
and soften positives'. That Gibbon should have thought
of noting this some time after 1782 is as real an ex-
pression of regard as his reflexion that thejetter Hume

1 Murray, p. 280. * Prothero, i. p. 190.

201

EDWARD GIBBON

wrote him on the appearance of his first volume over-
paid the labour of ten years.

The M/moires Littfraires de la Grande-Bretagne x were
designed for and carried on primarily by Deyverdun.
But Gibbon, who could aid his friend with his pen
though not with his purse, had a considerable part in it.
The plan was to supply the Continent with a review not
only of contemporary English literature but with sur-
veys of the drama, fine arts and the general state of
society, in annual volumes. The hope of a profit might
appear dubious and proved illusory. Yet their pre-
cursor and model, Le Journal Britannique of Gibbon's
old friend Matthew Maty, had lasted for six years, from
1750 to 1755. That venture, however, had the advan-
tage of being carried on from the Hague. The M&noires
Litteraires were published in London, and it does not
appear that any trouble was taken to disseminate it on
the Continent.

Self-advertisement is the other advantage which young
men who found reviews look for. Of this Deyverdun
reaped something, for it brought him to the notice of
Lord Chesterfield, whose cousin and heir Philip Stan-
hope he subsequently took abroad. It also brought
Gibbon acquainted with Chesterfield. But neither got
the reward or penalty of publicity, through the
extreme anonymity of their proceedings. Gibbon in
particular, in two extant letters, enjoins a profound
secrecy on his correspondents. 2 How far his share in it
ever came out is an interesting point. Deyverdun's
connexion with it was well known to Walpole. For at

1 This section is much indebted to V. P. Helming** Edward Gibbon and
Georges Deyverdun Collaborators t the 'Memaires Utttraires de la Grande-
Bretagne*. Publications of the Motfcrn Language Association of America,
ihiL (1932), p. 1028 sqq. Mr Helming if anything, I think, underestimates
Gibbon's share in the work.

a Letter to G. L. Scott, Misc. Wits. ii. 68, and in an unpublished letter to
Becket of 2Oth September 1767.

202

MANY DISTRACTIONS

Hume's request he lent Deyverdun The Life of Lord
Herbert of Cherbury to review, and thought himself ill
repaid by the notice of his Historic Doubts on the Life
and Reign of King Richard III. 1 Gibbon wrote this with
an epilogue of notes supplied by Hume. 2 But Walpole
was quite unaware of Gibbon's authorship or of his con-
nexion with the Mtmoires, when he hailed the first volume
of The Decline and Fall with such enthusiasm.

Only two volumes appeared; the first on 1 8th April
1 768 to cover the previous year, Becket and De Hondt
published it, and the change to Heydinger for the
second, which came out in 1769, no doubt indicates a
want of success. Only a dozen copies of the second
volume were sold in England, and about fifty abroad.
Materials for a third nevertheless were nearly complete;
but by the middle of 1769 Deyverdun had gone away
again, this time in charge of Sir Richard Worsley, the
son of Gibbon's old colonel. The unpaid bill pursued
Deyverdun across the Continent. He evidently was
solely answerable, for the bookseller could have applied
to Gibbon. 3

The reviewing does not rise above the standards of the
day. Long extracts from works are given; some over-
smart short notices are probably Deyverdun's. At a
distance of twenty years Gibbon was unable or unwilling
to distinguish their respective shares, so complete in
thought and style had been their collaboration. He
acknowledged the article on Lyttelton's Henry //, and
competent criticisms of Adam Ferguson's Civil Society
(with a reference to L'Essai sur la LittfratureparMr. G.)
and of Lardner's Credibility of the Gospel History are
probably his. Reviews of the Life of Lord Herbert^

1 Hume's letter to Walpole, iith November 1768, Gieig, H. p. 193, and
Walpole, Short Notes of My Life, under date May 1769, quoted in B. Hill,
p. 176, n. 2.

* Misc. Wks* Hi. 3 Meredith Read, ii. p. 381*

2Q3

EDWARD GIBBON

Sterne's Works^ and Baretti's Manners and Customs of
Italy support the claim of giving a comprehensive view
of contemporary letters. The most vivacious and mili-
tant notice is on BoswelPs Journal of a Tour to Corsica.

Mr Helming ascribes this to Deyverdun. But Gibbon
must have had a hand in it, if only for the painstaking
correction of Boswell's errors of scholarship. The charm
and novelty of the work are missed, and the author's
naiveties come in for some pert banter. There is too
a strong anti-Johnsonian tone. Boswell's devotion is
laughed at and Johnson is reported to have compared
truth to a cow an impish condensation of a not very
wise remark on the vanity of infidels. 1

The reviewers took their tone from another hostile
pamphlet 2 and borrowed an absurd pseudo-Plutarchian
parallel between Paoli and Wilkes, adding an item of
their own. Paoli had not the conjugal virtues, no more
had Wilkes. That implies such a gross perversion of
what Paoli said as to be funny. 3 It would certainly have
annoyed Boswell. It is impossible to say if he ever saw
this rare volume or had any inkling of Gibbon's con-
nexion with it. But Gibbon was probably prudent in
refusing to give anything away.

Another piece of anonymous writing was acknow-
ledged by Gibbon in after-years with some complacency,
in spite of professed contrition for 'the cowardly con-
cealment of my name and character'. This was a
pamphlet, Critical Observations on the Sixth Book of the
Aeneid) published in 1 770. The object of the attack was

1 'Sir, these men are afl vain men, and will gratify themselves at any expence.
Truth -will not afford sufficient food for their vanityj so they have betaken
themselves to error. Truth, sir, is a cow which wfllyield such people no more
miJkj and so they are gone to milk the bull \A Tour of 'Corsica, ed. S. C.
Roberts, 1923, p. 68).

* J. Kenrick'a An Episflf to James BosvoeR Esq^ occasioned ty Ms having
transmitted the moral vori&gs of Dr Samuel Johnson to Pascal Paoli, General
of the Corsicans*

A Tour of Corsica, ed. cit. p. 41.

204

MANY DISTRACTIONS

the redoubtable Bishop Warburton, and the ground
chosen was his contention in The Divine Legation that
the vision of the underworld in Virgil was founded on
the Eleusinian Mysteries. Gibbon's argument was
praised by Hayley a doubtful ally and also by the
great Virgilian scholar Heyne, and was reprinted by
an admiring Mr Green of Ipswich shortly after his
death; but both Conington and Nettleship held that
the honours of scholarship lay with Warburton, and the
subject has not yet been dismissed by scholars. Critical
Observations do not reveal the real Gibbon and have
nothing to add to his fame. The chief interest in this
sally for us is psychological, as Cotter Morison very
truly discerned. It was in fact the outward expression
of the dissatisfaction which Gibbon was feeling at this
time.

'That inward unrest', says Morison, 'easily produces an aggres-
sive spirit is a matter of common observation, and it may well
have been that in attacking Warburton he sought a diversion
from the worry of domestic cares.' I

It may seem hardly necessary to mention that the
Letters of Junius have been claimed for Gibbon. The
argument that the pause in the series coincides with
Gibbon's attendance on his father at Buriton in the
summer of 1 770 proves too much. For if Gibbon was
unable for that reason to send more than one letter (in
August) between May and November, how is it that the
letter of I4th November appeared only two days after
his father's death? 2

Amid these divagations the inspiration of the Roman
Capitol had not been forgotten. It is not necessary to

1 J. C. Morison, Gibbon, p. 63. Morison has some valuable comments on the
Critical Observations.

* For this theory see an anonymous Jwius Unmasked, 1819, and J. Smith,
Junius Utpvtiledi 19095 also a letter to Lord Sheffield of 22nd March 1819 in
Add. MSS. 34887, f. 3765 and Ckyden, Earfy Life ofS. Rogers, p. 95.

205

EDWARD GIBBON

repeat here the account which Gibbon gives of his
studies. It is a picture of omnivorous and at the same
time systematic reading which must always stand
among the supreme achievements of scholars.

*I began gradually to advance', he says, 'from the wish to the
hope, from the hope to the design, from tie design to the execu-
tion, of my historical work, of whose limits and extent I had yet
a very inadequate notion/

From the classics with which he was familiar, he ad-
vanced gradually into the unknown and almost un-
charted seas of what is still known as Low Latin, and
passed on through the darkness of the middle age 'till
I almost grasped the ruins of Rome in the fourteenth
century, without suspecting that this final chapter must
be obtained by the labour of six quartos and twenty
years'. The Decline and Fall is also the history of the
death and resurrection of Learning and the Arts. Thus
the nature and scope of his work, the object of so much
anxious questioning, took shape almost as inevitably as
the events of history themselves.

In a very remarkable incursion into Oriental history
belonging to this period Gibbon shows how deeply he
had meditated on both the style and method of his-
torical composition. 1

Very significant also is his summary of his religious
and ecclesiastical studies. He had come to the con-
clusion, which no one can deny however different their
views may be, that the progress of Christianity was
inseparably connected with the decline of the Empire.
In the light of that conception he reviewed exhaustively
all the sources, Christian, Hebrew and Pagan, that bore
on the history of the Church. 'In an ample dissertation

1 Sur k Monarchic des Mides*, Misc. Wks. iii. It is dated there between
1758 and 1763. But it mentions the death of J. P. Bougainville. That hap-
pened in 1763. The essay most have taken some time to -write.

206

MANY DISTRACTIONS

on the miraculous darkness of the Passion I privately
drew my conclusions from the silence of an unbelieving
age/ In no superficial or question-begging manner he
had made the long journey from his youthful acceptance
of the third century miracles to a solidly based scep-
ticism.

The account of these preparatory studies is carried
beyond the date of his father's death into the years 1771
and 1772. When the work of composition was begun
Gibbon had ranged far beyond the scope of his first
volume. In one revealing note to the thirtieth chapter
we learn that a rough draft of it was composed as early
as 1771. l

The end of Mr Gibbon's life, declining through the
stages of blindness, dropsy and general dcay, could
only be a relief. Yet Gibbon sincerely claimed that the
spectacle of his father's last days prevented any other
interests from absorbing his attention. Mr Gibbon died
on 1 2th November 1770, and, as a last though not very
important contribution to the general difficulties, this
long-ailing man left no will.

In a letter to Deyverdun written in December Gibbon
outlines his embarrassments and uncertainties which it
will take time to disperse.

*Be sure, my dear Friend', he says, *that the idea of living with
you will enter largely into my plans. Friendship, Philosophy
and Inclination will always speak to me in favour of Switzer-
land. But will they be powerful enough to prevail against the
tumult of London, against wretched obligations and the impor-
tunities of all my relations who pursue me with admirable
affection, and against the projects of fortune and ambition which
they persist in putting before me, I do not know myself and I
am not ashamed of not knowing/ 2

i The DecSne and Fall, c.3DCt,n. 86. * MfreeStk Ready ii. p. 396.

20*7

Chapter 14

No. 7 BENTINCK STREET

1773

INDEPENDENCE is a magic thing even when it is saddled
JL with embarrassments. After the first hurry of the
new situation conferences at Child's coffee-house,
Doctors' Commons, letters of administration, negotiating
for 'a daughter of the Poet Mallet to divert poor Mrs.
Gibbon during the gloom of winter' a new Gibbon
emerges and grows apace, no longer introspective but
confident of future achievement, good-humoured and
decisive in the midst of difficulties, unconstrained in his
relations with people.

He was now in possession of landed estate at Len-
borough in Bucks and at Buriton, of a share in the
New River and an interest in some copper mines. The
father's debts remained chiefly in the form of a con-
siderable mortgage; but the only problem now was to
combine their liquidation with the promotion of the
son's interests.

*It is a satisfaction*, Gibbon wrote to his aunt Hester, 'to
reflect that I have fulfilled, perhaps exceeded, my filial duties,
and it is still in my power with the remains of our fortunes to
lead an agreeable and rational life.'

For the moment he was to be reigning squire of Buriton
for two years to come.

At first he was not displeased with his new dignity.
He would be Farmer Gibbon in spite of everything, 'got

208

No. 7 BENTINCK STREET

a droll little Poney and intended to renew the long-
forgotten practice of equitation', raised his rents, at-
tended Weyhill fair, sold his hops well, pitting his
judgment successfully against Mrs Gibbon's. Tanner
Gibbon of no useP

The amateur will always trumpet his little successes in
the presence of experts. The real farmer, as Gibbon
well knew, was his stepmother. 'I am in no violent
hurry to dispose of the Place, which under Mrs.
Gibbon's management is certainly no losing Game/ *
She for her part was not so enthusiastic and did not care
about the responsibility; but foresaw *a great deal of
trouble in letting it, as I fear it is a piece of work that
will discompose Mr. Gibbon'. 2

By the middle of 1772 Gibbon was 'tired of sticking
to the earth by so many Roots'. He wanted his money
out of it, and was eager to hear proposals 'for taking
Miss Nancy Beriton into private keeping before I throw
her upon the town'. Not for him was 'the History of a
great Bullock bred upon the farm which is to bring in
28 pounds by Whitsontide', or deciphering scrawled
bills 'for Cuten of Timber and Cleaven it for mending
the Dong cart'.

Business took him frequently to town 'at my old
lodgings opposite the Duke of Cumberland's in Pall
Mail 7 ; pleasure claimed her share of his time when he
got there. 'Writings not Ridottos*, he had been obliged
to assure the gossips, detained him. But a taste for the
Soho or Haymarket masquerades is soon declared. A
domino bought in April 1772, 'trimmed blue pink and
silver, ^5.15.6 and work 5^-' was no vain symbol,
though not to be taken too seriously in itself. Variety of
companionship, old friends and new clubs, and ready

1 Prothero, L 138, ist October 1771, wrongly dated 6th by the editor.
* Mrs Gibbon to James Scott^ 3rd March 1772; Brit. Mus. 11907, dd. 2 (2).
She had been enquiring for a house at Bath in the previous March: ibid, lii. 3.

209 P

EDWARD GIBBON

access to books were irresistible calls. By the end of the
year, largely by Holroyd's help, Buriton was let. Mrs
Gibbon, a little difficult when the actual uprooting
came, was to settle in Bath and her stepson was ex-
citedly balancing the claims of several town houses.

Had the attachment between Gibbon and his father's
widow been less warm and genuine, here might have
lain the parting of their ways. Nothing of the sort
happened.

*I know you will be glad*, Mrs Gibbon wrote to James Scott a
few months after her husband's death, *to hear that Mr. Gibbon
is most excessively kind and good to me. I think there never
was a more worthy man, in the transactions that has called
upon him to show an exactness both of Duty and honor. There
are few I believe that would have the same notions he has.'

Gibbon justified this not only in his care for her in the
first days of widowhood but in his constant regard for
her well-being. She for her part never flagged in a
maternal concern for her stepson, which might indeed
have grown into an irksome control had they continued
to live together. In the early days of his freedom he felt
obliged to repel courteously but firmly an inclination
to read him a lecture on extravagance. But an associa-
tion, based on ^occasional visits and letters which Mrs
Gibbon looked, forward to with unabated eagerness,
could defy deoay. Nor was Gibbon tempted to neglect
her amid his mew friends, especially those at Sheffield
Place. On ihe contrary she was welcomed in that
delightful cincle, while in her turn she in Bath formed
friendships "Vfith Holroyd's father and sister.

An agreeaale feature of the new life was the quick
ripening of/ntimacy both with Holroyd and his wife.
Considerable obligations were repaid with a lively and
generous affection. James Scott and Stanier Porten had
given theiiF share of help, and Gibbon himself was far
from being incompetent in business ; but very soon Hol-

210

No. 7 BENTINCK STREET

royd, with all his knowledge and zeal in estate-manage-
ment, was invoked. Not often can help have been given
so whole-heartedly. He becomes at once 'the active little
man', 'the faithfull friend and Minister', 'the invaluable
counsellor', 'the Oracle' whose responses never failed
either Gibbon or his stepmother. I am so happy, so
exquisitely happy', Gibbon writes in October 1772, 'at
feeling so many mountains taken off my shoulders.' His
friend carried or shared the burden off and on for
twenty-four years.

Gibbon was now free to visit Sheffield Place often,
whether for business or pleasure, and Mrs Holroyd and
her children soon became 'la chre famille', 'la Sainte
Famille' even. One of the links in this circle was soon
broken only to strengthen the rest, There was a little
boy, John William Holroyd, between whom and
Gibbon a spirited attachment was growing. 'My great
enemy Datch', Gibbon writes playfully, and again 'My
profound respects to Mr. Datch'. But in July 1772 he
saw in the papers news which he hoped vainly might be
untrue 'the death of our poor little amiable friend
Master Holroyd whom I loved not only for his parents'
sake but for his own*. Gibbon was ready to put every-
thing else aside if he could afford the least comfort or
satisfaction to the man in the world he loved and
esteemed the most. The Holroyds welcomed his sym-
pathy, and in the following month he accompanied them
on a short tour, entertaining them at Buriton on the
way. His liking for and interest in Mrs Holroyd grew
unaffectedly and is expressed constantly in his letters,
sometimes playfully -fembrasse Madame autant qifil
m'est permis at other times with solicitous concern
when she was in poor health or when he thought she
needed a jaunt to town, and at all times after his settle-
ment in town he was eager and imperious in desiring
them to make Bentinck Street their inn. If he was not

211

EDWARD GIBBON

there, no matter; Mrs Ford and the parrot would wel-
come them. As for the daughter, the irrepressible
Maria Josepha the gentle Louisa was not yet born
it was very likely she, who still at a tender age first called
the little man 'Gib*.

The monument of Gibbon's friendship, as well as the
record of ids daily life from now onwards, are seen in his
flowering as a writer of letters which, in spite of his con-
fessed duatoriness, are so abundant. 1 These alone would
be enough to establish him as a master of racy English,
commanding every tone of expression, from playful
notes and nonce-language and unaffected chat to the
studied eloquence of great occasions. For this range of
style the letters may be compared with Cicero's, as well
as for a fondness for cryptic jokes and allusions. Con-
sciously or unconsciously Gibbon had not read the great
Latin writer in his youth for nothing. Ciceronian also
was the quality which Lord Sheffield discerned, when
he remarked with truth that 'when he touches on matters
of private business, even subjects of the driest nature
become interesting from his mode of treating them'. 2
The mark Gibbon made in society as a conversationalist
will be considered later; on the evidence of his letters,
with their unfailing humour and resource of phrase, he
was incapable of being dull.

Early in 1773 Gibbon was established at 7 Bentinck
Street, then on the fringes of the town, *my own new
dean comfortable dear house which I like better every
week I pass in it'. The only fly that spring was the
fine weather in which his importunate conscience
occasionally drove him out of doors.

This was to be his home for ten years, to be the work-

1 Of the 647 letters in Prothero's tvro volumes, the majority of which are
addressed to Holroyd or Mrs Gibbon, only 85 belong to the first part of
Gibbon's life, which ended with his father's death.

* Misc. Wh, i. 431. Do I flatter Cicero too much and those learned com-
mentators and lecturers who made his transactions with A trims an enthralling?

212

No. 7 BENTINCK STREET

shop of the first half of his History, to witness his
acceptance as a social figure, and the rise and end of his
political fortunes. The choosing and furnishing of it
had given him the liveliest pleasure and the most de-
tailed concern. In conference with his upholsterer
mahogany was to be proscribed in his library.

'The paper of the Room will be a fine shag flock paper, light
blue with a gold border, the Book-cases painted white, orna-
mented with a light frize; neither Doric nor Dentulated (that
was yours) Adamic. The Dog was to have sent me drawings
tonight to enclose to you, but has disapointed me.*

Blue was very likely a favourite colour. 1

There were three menservants and the 'virgins in the
garret*. Two at least of the men, his coachman, Edward
Budd, and Caplin, his butler and valet, were brought
up from Hampshire; from Buriton also came Mrs
Phoebe Ford, who governed his household for some
nine years until age and Mr Caplin undermined her
position. The crisis is of more interest than merely as
being the intrigue of a bachelor's entourage.

Phoebe Ford was a cousin of Dr. Johnson, being the
youngest of three daughters of his uncle Cornelius
Ford. She had come to the Gibbon family with Mrs
Gibbon. * Mrs. Phebys room* 2 was a standing designa-
tion at Buriton and shows that she was more than a
servant. The rest of her story is told in a letter which
she wrote to the Lexicographer lyth May 1780.

After establishing her identity she says :'I am at present
Howsekeeper with Mr. Gibbon, author of the Roman
Hisstory and with his Mother in law before she Mar-
ryed and in this Fammely this eight and thirty years*.
She would have been very happy in this service 'but for
my Masters servant who was a poor Labourer's son*.

1 His room at Buriton had been painted blue, and there are bills for blue
slippers and crockery. Notes and Queries, I3th Ser., i. 144.
a Magd. Coll. Pafcrs.

213

EDWARD GIBBON

He had been footman at Buriton, but 'my present
Masster took him and put him out of Livery and a great
Gentleman he is, I have more difficulty to please him
than his sewperior'. He had insulted her before the
other servants and she had consequently lost their
respect. She had always lived in an upper station and
been treated with proper regard. Now she also sus-
pected that Mr Caplin had not done her 'manney good
offisses with ,my Master, as his behaviour has become
very different'. He used to go over the books with her
once or twice a month, but now he did not see her once
in six months and all orders came from Mr Caplin,
who was very overbearing. Caplin would be glad to see
her go and so would she, but was too old to look for
another place. She complained of weak legs. She had
not saved much as her wages were low and she had put
out her money to two gentlemen, one of whom had
gone to 'Anntigoe' and she feared the money sunk.

We do not know whether Johnson intervened. The
incident was not likely to improve the relations between
him and Gibbon. He apparently did not know before
this letter that his cousin was the infidel historian's
housekeeper. 1 Gibbon, we may assume, would have been
told by Phoebe of her relationship with the great
man of letters. It is improbable that he would have told
Johnson that a cousin of his was a servant in Bentinck
Street. It would be 'a delicate matter', Phoebe Ford's
story, therefore, has in all probability nothing to do with
the relations of Gibbon and Johnson. But Gibbon must
be exonerated from the imputation of having treated
Johnson's cousin shabbily.

Phoebe Ford remained with Gibbon till November
1781, when he pensioned her off with her wages for life.
Caplin, he tells Holroyd, would be glad to be prime
minister, which shows that he still considered the old

1 At'any rate if be knew, Mrs Ford did not know that he did.

214

No. 7 BENTINCK STREET

lady in that office. By his will of July 1788 he left her
an annuity of ^25; in that of October 1791 it was
reduced to 20. Mr A. L. Reade remarks that Mrs
Ford had no reason to complain of the lowness of her
wages. 1

Doubtless Mrs Ford and Mr Caplin must have dis-
cussed a certain possibility which would eclipse their
rivalry. Would their master add to his well-appointed
home the object that was most obviously wanting? The
gossip certainly went round above stairs. 'Ah my Lady
my Lady', Gibbon writes to Mrs Holroyd, Vhat
rumours have you diffused in the regions of Bath re-
lating to Sappho and your Slave/ It was pleasant to toy
with the idea, it was amusing to flutter Miss Porten,
Mrs Gibbon and Mrs Holroyd. It is hardly to be
thought that he was in earnest over Sappho, and very
likely her uncle, Mr Rose Fuller, did no great harm
when he put down his foot against her going to Boodle's
great masquerade. Some months later a more serious
proposal was on foot about which Gibbon had better
speak for himself. He is writing to Mrs Holroyd on
1 7th December 1774:

'Surely no afiair was ever put into better hands than mine has
been. Your skill and friendship I am not surprized at, but Mrs.
Porten is a most excellent procuress, and the Lady Mother has
given as proper an answer as could be expected There is only
one part of it which distresses me, Religion, It operates doubly,
as a present obstacle and a future inconvenience. Your evasion
was very able, but will not prudence as well as honour require us
to be more explicit in the state* Ought I to give them room to
think that I should patiently conform to family prayers and
Bishop Hopper's Sermons? I would not many an Empress on
those conditions. I abhor a Devotee though a friend both to
decency and toleration. However my interests are under your

* For Phoebe Ford's story and letter see A. L. Reade, Johnsonian Gleanings,
iv. 46-9, and correspondence in TJLJS*, 22nd and 29th September, 6th
October 1921.

EDWARD GIBBON

care a and If you think that no more need be said on the awkward
subject, I shall acquiesce.

* After all, what occasion is there to enquire into my profession
of faith? It is surely much more to the purpose for them to ask
how I have already acted in life, whether as a good son, a good
friend, whether I game, drink, etc. You know I never practised
the one, and in spite of my old Dorsetshire character, I have left
off the other. You once mentioned Miss F. I give you my
honor, that I have not either with her or any other woman, any
connection that could alarm a Wife. Witn regard to fortune
Mrs. P. speaks in a very liberal manner; but above all things, I
think it should not be magnified. If it should be necessary to hint
at incumbrances, your delicacy I am sure could place them in
such a light as might raise the character of the living without
injuring the memory of the dead. You see how serious I am in
this business. If the general idea should not startle Miss, the
next consultation would be how, and where the Lover may
throw himself at her feet, contemplate her charms, and study her
character. After that we may proceed to other more minute
enquiries and arrangements.'

Not a romantic outlook but an honest one. Seven years
before he had written to Holroyd on his marriage,

'that tho* as a Philosopher I may prefer Celibacy, yet as a Poli-
tician I think it highly proper that the species should be pro-
pagated by the usual method; assure him even that I am con-
vinced, that if celibacy is exposed to fewer miseries, marriage
can alone promise real happiness, since domestick enjoyments
are tie source of every other good.'

But his cat had been out of the bag with the preceding
remark, 'tell him from me, that I am at least as well
pleased that he is married as if I were so myself. He
might have said the same to Jacques Necker. He was
surest and happiest in his role of bachelor friend, and
was never tempted to disturb the harmony. He might
tell Mrs Holroyd that *in this polite age, married women
of Fashion (meaning Lady Pelham), and not your Miss
Sappho Fullers are the object of the Man of the World*,
but he obviously meant less by it than by some cynical

216

No. 7 BENTINCK STREET

remarks on the pursuit of mesdames to Victor de
Saussure which so scandalised Meredith Read. 1

The negotiation, whatever it was, came to nothing.
Life went on unperturbed at Bentinck Street, the
master, if we may infer from later years, exacting
from his servants the punctual habits and regularity of
life which he had now imposed on himself. The old
way of late hours and excesses was gone without regret,
and to his gain rather than loss in society. Aunt Kitty,
now in retirement in Newman Street, could report on
him to Bath. In a mysterious message to Mrs. Gibbon
she seems to have been unenthusiastic about his pro-
jected marriage. 2 Now she had no more serious news
than to lament *a fit of the Gout which gave him great
concern as he had no suspicion that he should ever have
it" (this first attack had come at the end of 1 772 follow-
ing a fall and sprained ankle in crossing St. James's
Churchyard), or possibly to wonder why he was not yet
in Parliament. The last thing that there was news of
was the daily task in the library.

The progress of The Decline and Fall is only darkly and
gradually unfolded in the extant letters amid the medley
of business, politics and society. The first reference to
there being something on hand is not found before
July 1773, when Gibbon lightly tells his stepmother
that he is detained in town by some things which he
wants to finish, and for which his library is requisite.
'Laugh at the bookworm if you please but excuse the

1 Read, op. cit. ii. 353.

2 Brit. Mus. 1 1907, dd. 25 (2). Catherine Porten to Mrs Gibbon, 24th Sep-
tember 1774, A complaint of her brother's 'alarmed me very much as indeed
you did me with your little Gibbon in the Indias. ... As to my liking- a
Little Gibbon in England, I am in doubt. I like the Great one so well I want
no addition and the little thing might bring disagreeable circumstances along
with it that might over balance the Pleasure of it/ She regarded Gibbon and
her brother Sir Stanier as 'my governors*. It is legitimate to infer that his
entry into Parliament was discussed &om the interest that was shown when
he was elected.

217

EDWARD GIBBON

nature of the animal.' A year later (June 1774) he tells
her 'I am well in mind and body, busy with my Books
(which may perhaps produce something next year
either to tire or amuse the World)'. Not until June 1 775
did he tell her explicitly what he was about:

*I am just at present engaged in a great Historical Work no
less than a History of the Decline and fell of the Roman Empire,
with the first Volume of which I may veiy possibly oppress the
public next winter.'

Holroyd was no doubt more in his confidence; but he
gets no more than hints of 'the prosecution of my great
work', or 'my peculiar employment', though Gibbon,
in a sketch of himself sitting 'at Boodle's in a fine
Velvet coat with rufHes of My Lady's chusing etc/,
adds the rider 'that the aforesaid fine Gentleman is
likewise a Historian' who feels that when he writes a
page he is writing to his friend and so need not write
a letter.

A literary adventure which Gibbon declined belongs
to this period. Lord Chesterfield had died in 1773, and
James Dodsley had given his son's widow fifteen
hundred guineas for the copyright of his letters to his
son. The Stanhope family went to court in their efforts
to prevent publication* Dodsley had applied to Gibbon
to edit them, and we may well believe that he could
have written a memorable introduction. Gibbon
declined. Apart from his other occupations he thought
it prudent to avoid making personal enemies of the
family, mainly on account of Deyverdun, who was tutor
to the young earL 1

The restless and consequently often dissipated habits
of the old days in lodgings were thankfully abandoned.
But Gibbon was no recluse. He sometimes gave 'the
prettiest little dinners in the world'. He was a leading

*Pra&ero,L 195, and Birkbeck HaH, Eigktcevtk Gcntorf Letters,

218

No. 7 BENTINCK STREET

member of Boodle's, and was becoming well known in
various circles.

Through Holroyd acquaintance had been made, not
very eagerly at first, with Richard Owen Cambridge.
But soon references to the Cantabs and the eloquent
nymphs of Twickenham reveal some intimacy and
appreciation of a kindly intelligent family, in whose
house men of every range of distinction might be met.
The Cantabs Gibbon calls them amphibious were
fond of water-parties. On one of these occasions
Gibbon fell in. Cambridge showed Fanny Burney a
finical note of Gibbon's accepting an invitation to the
party in which he referred to the Thames as an 'amiable
creature', and remarked that the accident was 'God's
revenge against conceit'. 1

In town Gibbon was becoming known among the
literary sets, and he maintained his early interest in the
theatre. In January 1774 he was present to support
Colman's Man of Business. ' We got a Verdict for our
Client; his Cause was but a bad one.' The previous
night he had dined at 'the British Coffee-house' with
Garrick, Colman, Goldsmith, 'Ossian' Macpherson,
John Home, the author of Doug/as, and others. This
coffee-house in Cockspur Street was the resort of
Scottish men of letters, and there was a club there to
which some Englishmen also belonged. It had been
founded by Alexander Wedderburn, an .adventurous
advocate who had left Edinburgh for the English bar
and whose political migrations were less unexception-
able. It was an ominous acquaintance which was to
ripen into a genuine though dangerous friendship. 2

Garrick was an old standing acquaintance, and it was

1 Diary and Letters of Madame d'Arblay (Dobson), ii. 222 and 225; and
F. Burney, Memoir of Dr. Bvrnej, ii. 341.

2 He is probably the Wedderburn who appears in one of the militia conrts-
marrial. Gibbons Journal, p. 18,

219

EDWARD GIBBON

very likely through him that Gibbon met Goldsmith and
Reynolds.The solitude of the previous August in London
had been enlivened with their company. Gibbon's brief
friendship with Goldsmith is shadowy but intriguing.
Did they compare notes on fine clothes? One anecdote
survives in which Gibbon playfully misleads the doctor
on an elementary fact of Greek history. But Goldsmith
died on 4th April 1774, not, however, before he had
tried, as will be seen, to render his new friend a valu-
able service.

On Goldsmith's death it is said that Gibbon took his
place as Reynolds' companion. He was a frequent caller
at the studio, and Northcote, at work in another room,
remembered hearing him criticise Garrick's Richard III.
He was dining with Reynolds when the famous Round
Robin was drawn up asking Johnson to write Gold-
smith's epitaph in English. The two friends had a
common liking for the night entertainments of London,
and Reynolds' engagement-book notes: '5, Mr. Gibbon;
9, Masquerade'.

Inevitably the progress of the History was retarded,
although the expectation mentioned to Mrs Gibbon of
publishing in 1775 was still held in the early autumn of
the previous year. Cadell had been interviewed, and
proposed to publish in the following March with 750
copies if Gibbon could be ready. But Parliament also
was now in sight, and Gibbon could say 'there is a fine
prospect opening upon me, and if next spring I should
take my seat and publish my book it will be a very
memorable Era in my life'.

Another year was to pass before the book was ready.
Meanwhile he had entered the House of Commons, and
also become a member of that society which has always
been called the Club par excellence.

220

Chapter 1$

THE CLUB

*774

proposed for the Club by Goldsmith and
vJ balloted for on 4th March 1774, the date usually
given for his election together with George Steevens*
Johnson, telling Steevens of his success the next day,
mentions that another gentleman was rejected. The
recent publication of a letter from Garrick to Steevens
reveals that the gentleman blackballed was Gibbon. 1 A
month later Goldsmith was dead. But it may be assumed
that his candidate still had powerful supporters in
Reynolds and Garrick and probably Colman. Gibbon
was certainly elected within a year of this defeat, for he
was present at the first recorded dinner on 7th April
1775.

It seems vain to look for his enemy. It was certainly
not Boswell, who was not in London in 1774, and it
could hardly have been Johnson who could have per-
sisted in his opposition ; while it is doubtful whether the
rest would have elected in his absence a candidate whom
he disliked*

Boswell makes it plain, with the pride of a successful
candidate, that membership was an honour not lightly
conferred. On occasions, at least, aspirants were re-
viewed at a dinner party and sent away before the meet-
ing. One black ball rejected. But the qualifications
were undefined, and when, for instance, Johnson heard

1 Massachusetts Historical Society Proceedings (1918-19), HL 148-50.

221

EDWARD GIBBON

that Vesey had gentle manners he said it was enough.
If Gibbon's election was not before he had attained the
distinction of Parliament, it was at least a year before
his literary notoriety, after which he would certainly
have had no chance.

In Boswell's Johnson Gibbon is allowed to appear but
seldom, and then not to his advantage. The hostility of
Boswell's witness is avowed. Nevertheless it has not
been sufficiently acknowledged that his is not a com-
plete picture either of Gibbon's relations with Johnson,
or of his place generally in the Club. 1

Gibbon on his side is tantalisingly silent. He not only
repaid Boswell by almost completely ignoring him; he
has next to nothing to say of the Club. Bos well's name is
significantly omitted in a list of the members given in
the Autobiography, and that list occurs only in a foot-
note:

*From the mixed though polite company of Boodle's, White's
and Brook's, I must honourably distinguish a weekly society
which was instituted in the year 1764 and which still continues

to flourish under the title or the Literary Club The names

of Dr. Johnson, Mr. Burke, Mr. Garnck, Dr. Goldsmith, Sir
Joshua Reynolds, Mr. Colman, Sir William Jones, Dr. Percy,
Mr. Fox, Mr. Sheridan, Mr. Adam Smith, Mr. Steevens, Mr.
Dunning, Sir Joseph Banks, Dr. Warton, and his brother Mr.
Thomas Warton, Dr. Burney, etc., form a krge and luminous
constellation of British stars.* 2

There are singularly few references to these men in
Gibbon's writings. Yet he was an assiduous and con-
spicuous member of the Club, and his contacts there
would have contributed not a little to that 'gallery of
portraits and collection of anecdotes* with which in
another footnote he says 'it would be assuredly in my

1 Boswell only records eight meetings in the Life.

* Murray, p. 307. Boswell's namr occurs in two other footnotes only in
reference to his book; once as Bozzy. Murray, pp. 26 and 39,

222

THE CLUB

power to amuse the reader'. But he adds, perhaps with
allusion to BoswelPs book, 'I have always condemned
the practise of transforming a private memorial into a
vehicle of satire and praise'. Malone says that Lord
Sheffield found among Gibbon's papers *a great num-
ber of cards closely written on both sides, filled with the
characters of some of our contemporaries'. Possibly
Malone was mistaken. No such documents have come
to light, and it seems unlikely that Sheffield would have
destroyed them. 1

Of Johnson himself Gibbon has but little to say. In
the Autobiography the Doctor is mentioned as an 'un-
forgiving enemy' in relation to Mallet, and obliquely as
the oracle of *my friend Sir Joshua Reynolds'. Refer-
ences to him in the footnotes of The 'Decline and Fall
have been marshalled to prove that Gibbon was afraid
of him. 2 The evidence is by no means conclusive. In
the last part of the History, published after Johnson's
death, there are a number of critical references to him,
but only one is in any way offensive, and if Irene is
gently ridiculed for 'the extravagance of the rant', in one
place it is quoted with approval. Only in referring to
Johnson's note on Henry IV> Pan /, does he write of
'the notes of Dr. Johnson the workings of a bigoted
though vigorous, mind, greedy of every pretence to hate
and persecute those who dissent from his creed'. This
is severe, but not necessarily unmerited. Those who like
to balance these things may weigh what Gibbon said
after Johnson's death with what Boswell wrote about
Gibbon in his lifetime. But as to being afraid of pro-
voking Johnson, Gibbon had in his lifetime thrown
down the glove in a deftly irritating manner:

1 Malone to Lord Charlemont, zoth February 1794; Hist. MSS. Comm.
1 3th Rep.; Charkmont, ii. 230-31.
a Birkbeck Hill, pp. 230-31.

223

EDWARD GIBBON

'Dr. Johnson', he says, 'affirms that few English words are of
British extraction, Mr. Whitaker who understands the British
language has discovered more than three thousand. 9

Johnson's name is inseparably connected with the
Club, although he was less actively interested in it than
he had been in some of his earlier societies. But
Reynolds had founded it and remained to the last its
most effective member. Second to him in constant
support comes his friend Gibbon. It might almost be
said to be their club, on the records of attendance.
These alone dispose of any notion that Gibbon was a
cipher in it. But they do not begin before yth April
1775. From then to Johnson's death Reynolds had
been present at 131 dinners and Gibbon at 80 against
Johnson's 31 and BoswelTs 15. Gibbon attended eight
more meetings during his visit to England, 17878.*

Boswell first met Gibbon, whom he refers to as a
Mr Gibbons, at the dinner of 7th April I775, 2 the
others present being Johnson, Beauderk, Chamier,
Langton, Percy, Steevens, and Reynolds. The ham
was not very good and Boswell tried to enliven the
company by a laboured pun on rusticating the rusty
meat. Perhaps Gibbon was not amused. 3

It is odd that in recording in the Life this first dinner
of the Club Boswell merely describes it as a dinner at a
tavern with a numerous company. Nor does he think it

But he gives the famous *black bear* anecdote. Johnson
was talking of bears but could not get a hearing in the
hubbub of general talk. His vociferation of 'bear' ('like

1 See Appendix III. p. 359.

2 BOSTO& was not in London in 1774. He arrived 2 ist March 1775. Gibbon
was not present at the meeting of 24th March. Bo&well Papers, x. p. 193.

* Gibbon could do better. Walpole to Mason, 25 December 1779, ^T 3 * '*
have had a relapee and called it only a codicil to my gout. Mr. Gibbon said
"Very -welL But I fancy ft is not in consequence of your <uaff* Y

224

THE CLUB

a word in a catch', as Beauclerk said) was heard at
intervals until silence was obtained.

* "We are told", the oracle said at last, "that the black bear is
innocent, but I should not like to trust myself with him." Mr.
Gibbon muttered, in a low tone of voice, "I should not like to
trust myself with you". This piece of sarcastick pleasantry was
a prudent resolution, if applied to a competition of abilities.'

It has been inferred that Gibbon was generally silent
in his company. His silence in Parliament is in people's
minds as a kind of parallel. It is difficult to believe that
that is by any means the whole truth. To Gibbon may
be applied his own remark heard by Boswell *that Mr.
Fox could not be afraid of Dr. Johnson; yet he certainly
was very shy of saying any thing in Dr. Johnson's
presence'. These men may not have shared Boswell's
reckless zeal in cornering a bull; they may not have
cared to be knocked down with the butt end of a pistol
that had missed fire. Boswell records no such fate for
Gibbon ; and he would hardly have neglected the oppor-
tunity. Eleven days after this first meeting Gibbon
and Boswell with Reynolds and Johnson met again at
Owen Cambridge's villa at Twickenham. The utility of
history was discussed. Johnson remarked that

* "all the colouring, all the philosophy of history is conjecture".
BOSWELL. "Then, Sir, you would reduce au history to no
better than an almanack. . . ." Mr. Gibbon, who must at that
time have been employed upon his History ', of which he pub-
lished the first volume in the following year, was present; but
did not step forth in defence of that species of writing. He
probably did not like to trust himself with JOHNSON.*

Mr Gibbon could afford to bide his time and knew how
to hold his tongue, an incomprehensible art for Boswell,
who perhaps unconsciously betrays that the silence of
that round, uncomely, yet animated and so dangerously
intelligent countenance was an effective and exasperating
weapon.

225 Q

EDWARD GIBBON

But was Gibbon always so silent? That seems very
doubtful. At least once there is the suspicion of
deliberate suppression by Boswell when Gibbon alone
of the company takes no part in a conversation which
turned on such topics as Horace's villa and his journey
to Brindisi, and the comparative merits of London and
Paris. 1 The more so since a truer proportion seems to
be observed in the record of a Club meeting six days be-
fore. For some reason Boswell has labelled the speakers
with letters. Of these I, i.e. Infidel (sometimes printed
J), has been proved to be Gibbon. I. takes a modest
but easy share in the talk, and Boswell manages to draw
him out shrewdly enough by comparing place-hunting
with real hunting. I. remarks that not everyone is keen
enough on place to break his neck or roll in the mire;
whereupon Boswell scores neatly: 'I am glad there are
some good, quiet moderate political hunters*. Later on
I. is allowed to correct Boswell on a small point in a
discussion about the Club's wine; and when Johnson
intervening said that were he their dictator he would
allow no wine, and added smiling^ *Rome was ruined by
luxury', is it too much to think that the smile indicated
that Rome had been ruined by the little man in velvet
'and ruffles in their company? 2

Reynolds also presents Johnson and Gibbon talking
together without embarrassment, if with somewhat
stilted politeness, in two imaginary dialogues designed
to exhibit the Doctor's captiousness more than anything
else. In the first Reynolds, praising Garrick, leads
Johnson into a critical vein about the great actor; but
let Gibbon, in the second, venture on a depreciatory
remark and the old champion is up in arms at once.

Hannah More testified to the accuracy of the portraits :

*I hear the deep-toned and indignant accents of our friend
Johnson; I hear the affected periods of Gibbon; the natural, the
* Bosvxll, 9th April 1778. * Op. at. jrd April 1778.

226

THE CLUB

easy, the friendly the elegant language, the polished sarcasm,
softened with the sweet temper of Sir Joshua.' l

Hannah More knew Gibbon through the Garricks.
She recounts a dinner at Bishop Shipley's in 1781
attended by Gibbon, Johnson and Boswell among
others. Boswell got drunk and annoyed her by his
attentions. Johnson reproved her for reading Pascal.
Gibbon ought to have had something to say to that, but
it is not recorded. Still she adds one more link to the
evidence that there could not have been any obvious
feud between Johnson and Gibbon, since they were
constantly meeting at their friends' houses. 2

But the most brilliant portrait of Gibbon and Johnson
together is by the younger Colman and cannot be passed
over, however familiar it may be. It has often lost some
of its value by separation from its context.

As a boy of thirteen or fourteen about 1 775 Colman
was early introduced among his father's friends, and
his first experiences made him a decided anti-John-
sonian. In later years he bore witness to the bullying
type of conversation prevailing in his youth. The Club,
he thought, was rated too high, and even educated
persons were so pusillanimous as to give in to the
despotism of a self-chosen few. But while the Club
intimidated the town, Johnson awed the Club.

He met Johnson and Gibbon on the same day, both
having been asked to dine at his father's house in Soho
Square. The 'Erudite Savage* arrived an hour too
early. When Colman came down to the drawing-room
with his father he saw, sitting in a giltfauteuil of rose-
coloured satin, a large man wearing a rusty suit of

1 Leslie and Taylor's Reynolds, ii. 259.

* A. M. B. Meakin, Hannah Mort 9 p. 145. Bishop Percy's diary notes a
dinner with Reynolds, nth January 1775, attended by Warton, Johnson,
Dean of Berry, Burke, Franklin, Barney, Thrafe, Adam Smith, Langton,
Chamier, Beauderk, and *Mr Gibbons': Add. MSS. 32336.

227

EDWARD GIBBON

brown cloth dittos, with black worsted stockings; his old
yellow wig was of formidable dimensions. This un-
couth figure did not get out of his chair for his host.
'Doctor Johnson \ said the father, 'this is a little Col-
man/ Johnson gave the boy a slight ungracious glance
and plunged into his talk. At the first pause paternal
pride ventured again. 'This is my son, Doctor Johnson/
The great man's contempt was now raised to wrath and
knitting his brows he exclaimed, in a voice of thunder,
*I see him, sirP and fell back in his rose-coloured satin
fauteuiL To complete his felicity Colman was placed
next Johnson at dinner and took a boyish interest in his
table habits. He continues :

*On the dav I first sat down with Johnson, in his rusty brown,
and his black worsteads, Gibbon was placed opposite to me in
a suit of flowerM velvet, with a bag and sword. 1 EacJi 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 pedantick,
and the polish of the latter was occasionally finical. Johnson
march 5 d to kettle-drums and trumpets; Gibbon moved to flutes
and haut-boys; Johnson hew'd passages through the Alps, while
Gibbon levellM walks through parks and gardens. MauPd as I
had been by Johnson, Gibbon pour'd balm upon my bruises, by
condescending, once or twice, in the course of the evening, to
talk with me; the great historian was light and playful, suiting
his matter to the capacity of the boy; but it was done more suo\
still he tapp'd his snuff-box, still he smirk'd, 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.' 2

1 "Gibbon's costume -was not extraordinary at this time (a little overcharged,
perhaps^ if his person be considered) when almost every gentleman came to
ninncr in fnfi dress* Foote's clothes were, then, tawdrily splash'd with gold
lace; which with his linen, were generally bedawb'd with snuff; he was a
Beau Nasty * (Colman's note.)

3 G. Colman, Random Rtcords, L 96, 107, 121.

228

THE CLUB

Gibbon, whose own childhood had not been happy,
never fails in his relations with young people.

Early in 1777 Johnson wrote to Bos well that he was
in favour of increasing the Club to thirty; 'for as we
have several in it whom I do not much like to consort
with, I am for reducing it to a mere miscellaneous col-
lection of conspicuous men, without any determinate
character*. Boswell adds a footnote to explain Johnson's
dissatisfaction, 'on account of their differing from him
as to religion and politics', 1 The allusion, on a review
of the members, must be taken to refer certainly to
Gibbon and perhaps to Adam Smith. In the previous
year all had not been welL Boswell noted in nis diary
loth May that he was for a new Club, a secessio
plebis. 'Smith too* (i.e. as well as Gibbon), he wrote
to Temple, 'is now of our Club. It has lost its select
merit/

Two years later Boswell broke out in a more direct and
violent strain: 'Gibbon is an ugly, affected, disgusting
fellow, and poisons our literary dub to me'. The sore
was not healed by time. On 27th March 1781 both
Boswell and Gibbon were present at the Club, but John-
son was not there. A debate arose on the question
whether absent members were to be called on to pay for
their share of the wine, and was carried on with a genial
parody of parliamentary procedure. Sir Joseph Banks,
chancellor of the exchequer*, opened the budget. In
the course of this pleasantry Boswell was excused from
his share since although he was a Scotchman he had no
place under government; but Adam Smith, at the
instigation of Burke and Boswell, was ordered to pay
because he was a Commissioner of Customs. Gibbon

1 Occasionally there were very small attendances (Percy records 3 ist Decem-
ber 1770, Chambers and Polman besides himself} and 9th March 1772, only
himself and Chamier: Add. MSS. 32336), and there was always a risk of
some remarkable tfte-d-the to which perhaps Johnson did not ifl to trust
himself.

229

EDWARD GIBBON

stood up for Smith as a fellow infidel and was noted
down as a disagreeable dog. 1

The appearance of The Decline and .F*// precipitated a
crisis of BoswelTs hysterical frenzy against what he
called infidelity; a particularly unlucky word for him to
use. In vain for him to think that knocking the heads
of Hume and Smith together would make Ostentatious
infidelity exceedingly ridiculous*. The hideous thing
went on. He was grieved with his friend Temple for
praising Gibbon's book, and gave rein to his meta-
phorical fury: 'As fast as infidel wasps or venomous
insects, whether creeping or flying, are hatched they
should be crushed'. It galled him to hear Gibbon's book
discussed on all hands. It was shocking that Dr. Smith,
Professor of Anatomy at Oxford, and an Ayrshire man
at that, should be full of its praises. Boswell agreed that
the style was 'beautiful quite mellifluous', but said it
was a strange thing to meet with infidelity in a history.
There should have been a warning, 'Springs and traps
set here'. The most extreme counter measures were
justified. The ordinary rules of polite disputation might
be suspended and the person of an infidel opponent was
not to be spared. 2

The target was too easy. But Boswell lost his sense of
proportion, and it was not his adversary who was most
wounded in the end. Gibbon was ugly and he was vain,
especially among the ladies. But Johnson fancied the
ladies too and had his share of ugliness, and we only
smile when he is reported as expressing disgust at
Gibbon's looks, 3 or as being amused when Mrs Thrale
adapted some twaddling lines from an old geography
book to fit the historian. Johnson thought them worth

1 Bt&uxtt Papers, aav. 176. It is of some significance that the only members
present when Smith was elected were Reynolds, Gibbon, Beauclerk, Sir
William Jones (Rae, Lffe of Adam Smitk, p. 267) and Percy. (Add. MSS.

3*33 6 -)

2 Bowoett Papers, xi. 175. 3 Bofwett, i9th March 1781.

230

THE CLUB

repeating to Malone. 1 Nor is it easy to see how an
argument against abolishing slavery should be helped
by recalling the fact that Gibbon was a beau gargon who
included in his works 'his pleasing countenance to cap-
tivate the ladies'. 2 Gibbon was wiser than ever when to
the last he held his tongue about BoswelL

Boswell and Johnson's agitation about religion was
not the manifestation of serene faith. They were both
sceptics against their will; but neither knew nor cared
to know what were the issues raised by Gibbon's work.
Hence their blind fury. Boswell in particular was in-
capable of cool enquiry. At Tom Warton's in 1 776 he
remarked that as Gibbon had changed his system several
times he did not despair of seeing him a Methodist

readier. Johnson gloomily decided that having pub-
shed his infidelity Gibbon would probably persist in
it. 3 But Gibbon's changes were nothing to Boswell's.
He had sampled most of the current creeds, including

1 See Bohn edition of Croker's Bofwell for Malone's note about Johnson
repeating these verses to him at Brighton. Mrs Thralc -wrote the verses in her
copy of The Decline and Fall. She said they were translated from some Tjirir\
verses at the end of Cluverius. But see an anonymous letter, T.LS^ i3th
January 1921.

This was sinking very low. Here is another example of the incompetent
malevolence which was drawn out by Gibbon. Polwhele, Traditions and
Recollections, i. 354, quotes an epigram in Latin and English. This is the
English:

To sinners wonderfully civil

Gibbon declares there is no devil,

Ah, trust him notl for if we look

Upon his portrait in his book,

The boldest infidel would swear

He sees the very devil there.

This is feeble enough, apart from the feet that Gibbon never made any such
declaration. The linffl are in fact stolen from a French ouatrain on Bekker, an
Amsterdam divine who in 1699 tried to prove, in a work to which his portrait
was prefixed, that Satan was confined to hell and could molest man no more.
See N.Q., 3rd Ser. ix. 84.

* No Abolition of Slavery, or The Uxrversal Empire of L&ue, Addressed to
Miss , 1791 (it was an act of mercy to leave out the lady's "am* to whom
these disreputable verses were dedicated.)

3 Bosvwll Papers, xi. 177.

231

EDWARD GIBBON

Catholicism, and had ended up with High Anglicanism
tempered with occasional visits to the Quakers. His
dominating religious interest was a torturing appre-
hension of total extinction. Hell was comparatively of
little account. 1

This single fear was the motive of his immediate
antagonism to the ideas of Hume, Smith and Gibbon
or any others who ventured to disturb any part of a
position whose terrain he would have been at a loss to
describe, and which he could only defend by methods
which may be compared to massing boiling oil in the
face of a machine-gun attack. But this is not enough to
explain his intense antipathy to Gibbon. With other
infidels or disturbers of the peace, notably David Hume,
Boswell was on good if not affectionate terms. Rousseau
and Voltaire were great men to him; yet nothing came
amiss if it might belittle Gibbon.

There is nothing surprising in the clash of these con-
fronting vanities. Both men competed too much in the
same fields of conceit. If Gibbon over-cultivated his
appearance, Boswell did not shrink from making absurd
exhibitions of himself. Both were full of social pride
and yet were arrivists in London. Here, however, the
advantage lay with Gibbon and increased as the years
went on. Boswell too, so often an exile in Edinburgh,
may well have been jealous of the place which the little
infidel maintained in the Club. "Both had literary am-
bitions but BoswelPs were not to be satisfied for many
years to come. Both had travelled and had seen some-
thing of the wider intellectual life of the Continent.
But BoswelFs acquaintance with Voltaire may have been
an embarrassment to him at the Turk's Head, while
Gibbon, who had nothing to lose with Johnson, was
free to compare the narrow round of casuistry which

1 Bofweti Papers, xS., Introduction. See also The Hypochondriac*, No. XTV.,
November 1778, M. Bailey's edition, i. 199 (California, 1928).

232

THE CLUB

makes up so much of Johnson's topics with the un-
prejudiced air of Ferney and the restless enquiries of
the Parisian salons. Even if he said nothing, Boswell
must have guessed what was passing in his head.

All the evidence shows that Gibbon enjoyed the Club
and was on good terms with the other members. Writ-
ing from Paris in 1777 he asked Garrick to assure
Sir Joshua that he had not lost his relish for manly
conversation and the society of the brown table. His
friendships with these two men were close and lasting.
At Garrick's funeral in 1779 he rode in the third coach
assigned to the Club with Colman, Chamier and Banks.
When Reynolds died in 1792, the same year as Lord
North, Gibbon exclaimed, 'Two of the men and two of
the houses in London on whom I most relied for the
comforts of society'. He was on intimate terms with
Beauclerk and Lady Di, 'one of the most accomplished
women in the world'. With Burke he had little in
common, but they were not unfriendly. Boswell in vain
hoped to see the Dean of Deny enter the lists against
the infamous chapters; instead he included Gibbon in
his pleasant lines on the art of growing old. Gibbon
knew Sir William Jones well and saluted him magnifi-
cently in several of his notes, 1 Adam Smith is saluted
too as a sage and a friend, and the latter term was any-
thing but an empty one. 2

Of the members elected later Ossory, Palmerston,
.John Dunning, his cousin Eliot, Spencer and Lucan
were all either old or new friends.

The notification of election still used by the Club is

1 The Decline and Folly c. xliv. nn. 144, i68j also c. xxvi. n. 20, c. 1. n. 41,
c. Hi. n. 71, c. Ivii. n. 425 also letter from Jones to Gibbon, Misc. Wks,
ii. 252.

a Ibid. c. xxiv. n. i j$ also c. xl. n. 148, c. fax. n. 92. Writing to Gibbon in
1788 on the completion of his History, Smith ends 'most affectionately yours*:
Misc. Wks. ii. 429. Smith is very likely the 'Adam* mentioned once or twice
in Gibbon's letters.

EDWARD GIBBON

said to have been drawn up by Gibbon, who at least
once acted as secretary.

*Sir, I have the pleasure to inform you that you had last night
the honour to be elected a member of the Club.
'I have the honour to be,

*Sir, your obedient humble servant.* J

Gibbon admittedly preferred small gatherings. There
is evidence that he could be silent in other company
than Johnson's. But something must be allowed for
progression towards seniority both in a club and in the
world. For in his later years Gibbon was ready enough
to talk, and Maria Holroyd noted that he could not
bear to play second fiddle. Malone, who had seen
Gibbon at the Club often enough, remarks on his fund
of anecdote and erudition, and says he 'had acquired
such a facility and elegance of talk that I had always
great pleasure in listening to him'. Praise from Malone
is valuable. 2 Another critic writing soon after Gibbon's
death mentions an unaccountable fascination which
made him agreeable and impressive in spite of an
ungraceful articulation and pedantic manner. 3 Guizot,
drawing on French tradition, says that Gibbon's tone
was decisive, not from any desire to dominate but out of
self-confidence. His vanity indeed was of the ingratiating
kind; he was anxious to succeed by pleasing. 4 Gibbon
regarded talk as a relaxation. But his memory was so
ready that he could on occasions debate with skill. Yet
he had no taste for the browbeating by which the
younger Colman says the talkers of the previous genera-
tion had established an undeserved ascendancy.

1 He informed Malone of his election. R. B. Adam, Johnsonian Library, iii.
p. 108. For the formuk see M. E.G. Doff, The Club, 1764-1905. Birkbeck
HUTS yersion, p>t from Tennyson, differs. It omits the ending with the
apparent quippical contrast *You had the honour . . I have the honour*.

* Hist. MSS, Comm. ijth Rep.j Charlemont, ii. 230.

3 Gent. Mag. kfr. 178.

4 Guizot's introduction to his edition of The Decline and fall.

234

THE CLUB

Apart from the Club, Gibbon was not particularly
drawn to literary society. He told Holroyd that authors
and managers were good company to know but not to
live with. Perhaps that was youthful insolence. But
Wraxall says that he avoided such things as Mrs Mon-
tague's parties.

He belonged to Boodle's, Brooks's and White's clubs.
In 1774 the novelty in St. James's was the Chess Club,
founded by admirers of the French player Philidor.
Gibbon, with his friends Wedderburn and " Fox, was
among the earliest members. 1 He also became a Mason.
On the i gth December of the same year he was initiated
and advanced to the third degree at the Lodge of
Friendship, No. 3, at the Star and Garter, New Bond
Street, and on the following 8th March he attained the
sublime degree of a Master Mason. 2

* P. W. Sergeant, A Century of British Chess.
2 Add. MSS. 34887. The certificate is signed by Lord Wentworth.

Chapter 16

THE MEMBER FOR LISKEARD

1774

had news for his stepmother in September
VJTI774 to which he could add nothing in the same
letter 'but what would be flat and insipid'. 'Mr. Eliot
has in the most liberal manner assured me a seat in
Parliament, an event which changes the colour of my
whole future life/

The offer came unexpectedly but had not been al-
together unhoped for. Parliament was indeed an almost
necessary qualification for the complete man-about-
town. What in the end were Boodle's and Atwood's if
a man could not go down with his friends to the House?

A growing frequency of references to Edward Eliot,
the Cornish 'Lord of Boroughs', may conceal some
aspiration beyond mere cousinly goodwill. At last in
September 1773, when Gibbon was on a visit to Port
Eliot, after describing his cousin's fair situation he
takes Holroyd into his confidence.

'One possession he has indeed most truly desirable; but I much
fear that the Danae of St. Germains has no particular inclina-
tion for me, and that the interested Strumpet will yield only
to a Golden Showen My situation is the more perplexing as I
cannot with any degree of delicacy make the first advance.'

Nearly a year passed and Gibbon was more concerned
in advising Holroyd not to stand for a county seat since
he was still a novus homo in Sussex and would have to
face the enmity of all the animals bears, hogs, asses

236

THE MEMBER FOR LISKEARD

and rhinoceroses who by the courtesy of England are
called Gentlemen, than in building castles for himself
in Cornish boroughs. But once more Eliot was in town,
and once more he did not belie the reputation he seems
to have had for slow and cautious movement. The
result was a dramatic tale for Gibbon to write for
Holroyd.

*It is surely infinite condescension for a Senator to bestow his
attention on the affairs of a Juryman, 1 A Senator? Yes, sir, at
last Quod nemo fromittere Divum atideret y volvenda dies en!
attulit ultro. About ten days ago Eliot spent an hour with me,
talked sensibly of his will, and his children, and requested that
I would be Executor to the one and Guardian to the other. I
consented to accept an office which indeed I consider as an
essential duty of social life. We parted. Yesterday morning
about half an hour after seven, as 1 was destroying an army of
Barbarians, I heard a double rap at the door, and my Cornish
friend was soon introduced After some idle conversation he
told me, that if I was desirous of being in Parliament, he had an
independent seat very much at my service. You may suppose
my answer, but my satisfaction was a little damped when he
added that the expence of election would amount to about
2400, and that he thought it reasonable that we should share
it between us. I paused, and recovering myself, hinted some-
thing of Paternal extravagance and filial narrowness of circum-
stances and want of ready money, and that I must beg a short
delay to consider whether I could with prudence accept of his
intended favour, on which I set the highest value. His answer
was obliging, that he should be very much mortified if a few
hundred pounds should prevent it, and that he had been afraid
to offend me by offering it on less equal terms. His behaviour
gave me courage to propose an expedient, which was instantly
accepteH with cordiality and eagerness, that when his second son
John (who is now thirteen) came of age I would restore to him
my proportion of the money.'

Besides his sense of the dramatic Gibbon was no mean
hand at a negotiation.

1 Gibbon had been giving Holroyd his views on a case in which the latter
"was concerned. See especially his comments on juries in Protfaro, i. 221.

237

EDWARD GIBBON

He did not know for the moment whether his seat
would be Liskeard or St. Germans, and the existing
Parliament had some six months more of legal existence.
But the dissolution came unexpectedly at the end of
September 1774, and in a fortnight, without needing to
stir out of London, Gibbon was elected member for the
borough of Liskeard. He distributed brief announce-
ments of his triumph, each with the important post-
script: 'Franks do not take place till the 2Oth\

The old ladies, his faithful chorus, chanted their satis-
faction in the background.

'I take the first opportunity', wrote Kitty to Dolly Gib, 1 'to
rejoice with you upon the prospect we nave of Our Friend
making a figure in Parliament. I own I flatter myself as I am
sure you do ... why it was not done sooner and several other
things upon that subject, I defer till I have the pleasure of
seeing you.'

Do these words conceal the fact that Aunt Kitty has
opened the proposals to nephew Edward Eliot which
delicacy has prevented Giboon from attempting?

In a few weeks Gibbon had taken his seat. At the
debate on the Address he had been tempted to speak
but was well satisfied later not to have sacrificed his
parliamentary virginity prematurely. Early in the next
year he was writing, 'If my confidence was equal to my
eloquence and my eloquence to my knowledge, perhaps
I might make no very intolerable speaker. At all events,
I fancy I shall try to expose myself/ But a week later
there was such an inundation of speakers that 'neither
Lord George Gennaine nor myself could find room
for a single word 7 . A curious combination in silence.
Again in the same month of February- 'I am still a
Mute; it is more tremendous than I imagined; the great

1 So Lord Sheffield endorsed one of her letters. Miss Porten to Mrs Gibbon,
24th September and ist November 1774, in Brit Mus. 11907, dd. 25 (2).

238

THE MEMBER FOR LISKEARD

speakers fill me with despair, the bad ones with terror*.
Final resignation that would last his time in the House
is foreshadowed in a brief note soon after: 'Still dumb;
but see, hear, laugh sometimes, am oftener serious, but
upon the whole very well amused*.

In the same strain he had already told Mrs Gibbon
that although the House might never prove of any real
benefit to him he found it at least a very agreeable
coffee-house. 'We are plunging every day', he adds
equably, 'deeper into the great business of America.*

For a man with such an easy mind and for those days
of impromptu politics, Gibbon took pains to bring
himself abreast of events; which we should think the
more creditable if we could agree more with the con-
clusions reached. Some play has been made with the
fact that the great historian was on what most people
would now agree to be the wrong side of the House in
the dispute with America. This is not fair. He must be
judged on equal terms with his fellows as a man and not
as a historian, unless we expect our Regius Professors
tp have more than ordinary political sagacity. In one
aspect of the matter he is no more than an instance of
the fate which may overtake the most intelligent and
disinterested men when they lend a too respectful ear
to the experts in a strange field.

Before his entry into Parliament Gibbon's interest in
affairs does not rise beyond retailing, in the manner of
his age, scraps of political gossip to his country friends.
He confesses that his anxiety about an old Manor took
away much of his attention from a New Continent. The
prospect at this time (February 1774) was disturbing
enough. Intelligence of the Boston Tea Party had
lately come in, and the Privy Council had voted that
the petition of Massachusetts for the recall of Governor
Hutchinson was 'groundless, vexatious and scandalous*.
These events had stirred Gibbon's old Lausanne friend

239

EDWARD GIBBON

Godfrey Clarke 'into military Fury; but he is an old
Tory and you (Holroyd) are a Native of the Bog. I
alone am an Englishman, a Philosopher and a Whig/

But in the first months of his political life Gibbon was
delivered into the tutelage of two men who could be
least trusted to give him a wise or impartial view. One
was Israel Mauduit, a pamphleteering woollen-draper.
Gibbon would spend four hours at a time with Mauduit
and adds an ingenuous comment on their tete-a-tetes:
*He squeaks out a great deal of sense and knowledge,
though after all I mean to think, perhaps to speak, for
myself*. Mauduit had artfully brought the new mem-
ber acquainted with Governor Hutchinson himself, and
Hutchinson was an assiduous propagandist from whom
Gibbon had 'as much probability of arriving at a just
conclusion as a Roman Senator who took his idea of
the Sicilian character from a private conversation with
Verres'. 1

In the following letter, so illustrative of the vague and
piecemeal way in which news came to hand, Gibbon
repeats one of his lessons to his patron:

'DEAR SIR,

*I am happy to hear from various quarters that you have at
length reached Bath in good health, spirits and a disposition to
take the amusements which the Law of Moses may prescribe to
you. John I am sure, William I hope, are happy and well, but
I hear that Mrs. Eliot already begins to turn her eyes again
toward Cornwall. With regard to yourself I must beg the
favour of a line to inform me of your intended motions. IF you
do not mean to proceed farther westward I will certainly con-
trive to run down to Bath for a week rather than miss the
opportunity, but if inclination or business leads you to the
Capital, my literary engagements will persuade me to defer till
the Autumn my annual Visit to Mrs. Gibbon and to content
myself for the present with saluting my rustic Cousin from a
distance.

1 G. (X Tievdyan, The American Revolution, i. 236.
240

THE MEMBER FOR LISKEARD

'You have seen by the papers the unpleasant news from
America; unpleasant as a single drop of blood may be considered
as the Signal of civil war. For otherwise it was not an engage-
ment, much less a defeat. The King's troops were ordered
to destroy a magazine at Concord They marched, did their
business and returned, but they were frequently fired at from
behind stone walls and from the windows in the Villages. It
was to those houses that they were obliged to set fire. Ensign
Gould (of Northamptonshire) had been left with twelve.men to
guard a bridge and was taken prisoner. The next day the Pro-
vincial Congress sent a Vessel without her freight express to
England; no letters were put on board but their own, nor did
the crew know their destination till they were on the banks of
Newfoundland. So that Government has not any authentic
account. The Master says that the day after the engagement the
Country rose and that he left Boston invested by 1500 Tents
with Canon and under the command of Colonel Ward who
was at the head of a Provincial Regiment in the last war, but
unless Fanaticism gets the better of self-preservation they must
soon disperse as it is the season for sowing their Indian com, the
chief sustenance of New England* Such at least is the opinion
of Governor Hutchinson from whom I have these particulars,
'lam

'Dear Sir

'most sincerely Yours

'E. GIBBON

'LONDON, May the $irst 1775.* l

A month later the pupil had learnt from Governor
Hutchinson that General Gage had plenty of provisions,
fresh and salted flour, fish, vegetables, etc. : 'hopes he is
not in danger of being forced - *

Priding himself that he had sucked these sedulous
tutors very dry, Gibbon emerged

'more and more convinced that we have both the right and the
power, and that, though the effort may be accompanied with
some melancholy circumstances, we are now arrived at the

1 From the original MS. at Port Eliot,

241 R

EDWARD GIBBON

decisive moment of persevering or of losing for ever both our
Trade and Empire.*

By such lights he became a zealous though silent friend

to the Cause of Government, which, in this instance, he
thought the Cause of England.

As time went on and North's government blundered
more deeply in the toils. Gibbon began to have suspicions
about the expediency if not the justification of their
policy. *We have a warm Parliament but an indolent
cabinet/ *I sometimes doubt Lord North/ But at the
same time he was becoming bound to his government
by ties which he found difficult to ignore. Early in 1 775
the new member was to meet the First Lord of the
Treasury at Twickenham, and was expecting to be
invited to his lordship's own house. A friendship began.
*If they turned out Lord N. to-morrow, they would still
leave him one of the best Companions in the Kingdom/
Another friend was Alexander Wedderburn the Solicitor-
General. This 'artful and able man', of whom Junius
said that Treachery herself would not trust him, has
one of the most unenviable reputations among political
intriguers. But Gibbon never failed to see in him an
agreeable companion and a helpful friend. Nor should
it be forgotten that both Mrs Gibbon and Holroyd were
undoubting supporters of the Government's policy.

There is at least some probability that the Government
were taking notice of a new member whose potentialities
could with reason be valued very highly. Before Gibbon
is condemned for sacrificing his judgment to oppor-
tunism, we must reflect how easy it is for a man to
deceive himself when the forces of flattery and friend-
ship, of obligation (for even if Gibbon's seat was truly
independent there was little doubt what was expected of
him) and of artful suggestion direct his steps towards
the division lobbies. Gibbon the politician may have

242

THE MEMBER FOR LISKEARD

been weak; there is no evidence that he was dishonest
with himself any more than with others. The embarrass-
ments into which he ultimately fell belong to a later
chapter. Meanwhile with vigour of mind increased if
anything 'in the winter hurry of society and parliament",
he approached the day when he should 'oppress the
public* with the first volume of his book.

243

Chapter IJ

'LO, A TRULY CLASSIC WORK!'

1776

E press is just set to work', Holroyd was informed

JL in June 1775, <anc ^ ^ s ^^ be ver 7 ^ US 7 ^ e whole
summer in correcting and composing/ Nothing would
draw Gibbon from his books and London when he
was tired of the Roman Empire he could laugh away
the evening at Footers Theatre until the end of
August when he went down to Sheffield Place, taking
with him Aunt Kitty, for she too had been welcomed
into the family there* Another break occurred in
October, upon the news that Mrs Gibbon had an
attack of smallpox. Her stepson left everything at once,
starting at half-past three and travelling the first evening
'till the Moon failed'. At Bath he waited unannounced
for forty-eight hours for fear of alarming the patient.
Back again in town *and so comfortably in mine own
dear Library and inine own dear Parlour', he continued
his work into the winter and not till January could he
announce the finishing of the impression. His preface
was dated ist February from Bentinck Street, and he
announces to Holroyd that *it is to-morrow sevennight,
the 1 7th that my book will decline into the World'.

Upon Gibbon's remarking that he had begun to print
the head before the tail was quite finished, Holroyd had
expressed his apprehension that the Work was being
produced precipitately, and had apparently advised
Gibbon to submit it to a friendly critic. Gibbon scouted

244

*LO, A TRULY CLASSIC WORK!'

both notions, revealing some of the secrets of com-
position.

*The head is now printing true, but it was wrote last year and
the year before, the first Chapter has been composed de notweau
three times\ the second twice, and all the others have undergone
reviews, corrections etc. As to the tail, it is perfectly formed
and digested (and were I so much given to self-content and
haste) it is almost all written. The ecclesiastical part, for in-
stance, is written out in fourteen sheets, which I mean to
refondre from beginning to end. As to the friendly Critic, it is
very difficult to find one who has leisure, candour, freedom, and
knowledge sufficient. However, Batt and Deyverdun have read
and observed. After all, the public is the best Critic. I print no
more than 500 copies of the first Edition; and the second (as it
happens frequently to my betters) may receive many improve-
ments.* 1

The tone of Gibbon's letters bears out the assertion of
the Autobiography that 'during this awful interval I
was neither elated by the ambition of fame nor depressed
by the apprehension of contempt*. Working imper-
turbably towards his goal he was conscious of and
satisfied with his merits. All his references to the book
betray a quiet complacency 'we proceed triumphantly
with the Roman Empire' and he had already estat>-
lished himself as 'the Gibbon* to his friends.

The long expected day came at last. 'The History of
the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, by Edward
Gibbon Esqr y Volume the Firs? appeared on the I7th
February I776. 2 This first of six thick quartos, costing
a guinea unbound, sold, in Cadell's phrase, like a
threepenny pamphlet on current affairs. In a fortnight
not a single copy remained; a second edition of fifteen

* To Holroyd, ist August 1775. Prothm, i. 2645 Misc. JTts. iL 141.

a Gibbon tells Deyverdun, i6th February. Elsewhere iTth Febroary is
given. H. M. Beatty (Bury's edition of The Dec&u end Fall, vii. 349)
points out that the irth was a Saturday and perhaps at the last moment was
abandoned in favour of the previous day. iTth February is die date given
in the diary in the Pierpont Morgan library.

245

EDWARD GIBBON

hundred was undertaken for June, and a third was
prophesied by the end of the year. 1

It is in a letter to Deyverdun that we can catch the
high mid-summer of Gibbon's elation, which has its
complement in the autumnal glow which warms the
narrative in the Autobiography. Deyverdun is to know
that the History has had the most complete and flattering
success. But the jubilant author must first prepare the
scene circumstantially with an account of his early
diffidence yielding to his publisher's rising enthusiasm.
The original agreement with Cadell had been to sound
the public taste with five hundred copies. 2 Upon
Strahan and Cadell's importunate representations he
had consented to a thousand, although haunted with
the fear that the younger members of his numerous
family might be condemned to languish ingloriously in
a warehouse.

But 'the ancient history of your learned friend has
succeeded like the Novel of the day', and Gibbon con-
fides to Deyverdun, as one old bachelor to another, that
he is infinitely pleased with the praises of fashion-
able women, especially if they are young and pretty.
Yet their approval is not the weightiest. 'Hear what
Robertson says; lend your ear now to the good David',
and Gibbon transcribes a part of that classic letter from
Hume of which he says in his Autobiography that it
overpaid the labour of ten years.

4 As I ran through your Volume of History with great Avidity
and Impatience, I cannot forbear discovering something of the
same Impatience in returning you thanks for your agreeable
Present, and expressing the Satisfaction which the Perform-
ance has given me. Whether I consider die Dignity of your
stile, the Depth of your Matter, or the Extensiveness of your
Learning, I must regard the Work as equally the Object of

1 Tbe second edition appeared on 3rd June and the third in April 1777.
* 750 according to Protkm, L 205, referred to above, p. 220.

246

<LO, A TRULY CLASSIC WORK!'

Esteem. ... I know it will give you Pleasure (as it did me) to
find that all the Men of Letters in this Place concur in their
Admiration of your Work, and in their anxious Desire of your
continuing it.'

Moreover, how fortunate that these two great writers,
Hume and Robertson, were Scotchmen! For Gibbon
continues:

*Our good English groaned for a long while past under the
superiority that these historians had acquired, and as national
prejudice is maintained at very little expense they hastened to
hoist with acclamations their unworthy compatriot to the niche
of these great men.'

Another point on which Gibbon congratulates himself
is his honest neutrality in politics. It was the custom
then, far more than now, for a new work to be scrutinised
for party bias even if it dealt with remote centuries.
But

4 an under-minister much attached to die prerogatives of the
Crown complimented me for having inculcated the healthiest
maxims. Mr. Walpole and Lord Camden on the other hand
both declared partisans of liberty and even of republicanism are
persuaded that I am not far from their ideas. 9

Next with rather smirking irony he forecasts trouble
to come:

*Now let us look at the reverse of the medal and pay attention
to the means which heaven has been pleased to use for the
humiliation of my pride. Would you imagine, my dear Sir, that
injustice would te carried to the point of attacking the purity of
my faith. The outcry of the Bishops and of a great number of
ladies respectable equally for their age and their enlightenment
has been raised against me. They dare to assert that the last two
chapters of my pretended history are nothing but a satire on the
Christian religion, a satire the more dangerous as it is disguised
under a veil of moderation and impartiality and that the emissary
of Satan after having entertained his reader for a long rime witn
a very agreeable story leads him insensibly into his infernal trap.

247

EDWARD GIBBON

You perceive, Sir, the horrible nature of such conduct and you
are well aware that I shall only present a respectful silence to
the clamour of my enemies.'

Finally the translation. Deyverdun was to cause
Gibbon to be read and burned in the rest of Europe.
The sheets had been sent to Germany as they came
from the press, and Deyverdun must have had the whole
for some time. Was the translation finished? How did
Deyverdun propose that it should be published? Various
fears, some only too well founded, assailed the impatient
author, accidents on the way and the translator's in-
dolence or other preoccupations. The Due de Choiseul
had told Walpole of his intention to have the book
translated. Gibbon had tried to discourage this by
assuring people thatDeyverdun's translation was already
printing at Leipsic. It would be annoying to be antici-
pated either by some clever fellow in Paris or by a
Dutch bookseller's hack. 1

*I have always despised the gloomy philosophy which
would have us insensible to fame', Gibbon wrote to
Suard at the end of this memorable year. It was as well.
The outburst of praise might have turned a less alert
vanity. A great book has perhaps seldom been praised
immediately by those most fitted to judge it with such
unanimity and such frequent identity even of language,
accompanied, it must be admitted, by a wary avoidance
of the real issues. Robertson prudently had not read
the last two chapters. 'Such depth such perspicuity
such language, force, variety and what notl' were typical
words from Camden, eagerly transmitted by Garrick,
whose delight 'whenever I am truly pleased I must
communicate my joy* makes a breathless little note
not less impressive than more judicious tributes.

1 Passages from Gibbon's letter of 7th May 1776 to Deyverdun have been
translated from the French MS. Another -version of the whole letter is in
MerecBth Read, ii, p. 386.

248

<LO, A TRULY CLASSIC WORK!'

It was from the North that the most generous and
discerning praise came, from Robertson, Adam Fer-
guson, Wallace, Professor Campbell of Aberdeen, and
above all from Hume, who had begun to despair of
good literature's coming from England. Magnificent
as was his letter to Gibbon, part of which has already
been quoted, not less gratifying may have been his
unforced expressions of regard and interest in a letter
to Strahan which came into Gibbon's hands. Hume
with others expressed the liveliest hopes that Gibbon
would continue his work. He himself was to read no
more. His health was failing rapidly. As he passed
through London on a journey to Bath, Gibbon saw him
for the last time, 'his body feeble, his mind firm', and in
August 'that truly great man* x died the calm death of
a sceptic.

But to a man who had his eyes on more worlds than
one, there must have been peculiar satisfaction in Horace
Walpole's congratulations. They had not been un-
sought for. In those days the opinions of such men
were more influential than the reviews, and the gift of
an advance copy might be of mutual value. Walpole's
reaction was certainly perfect. 2

*You have unexpectedly given the world a classic
history' was his neat summing up of the situation. He
praised the book with discernment, recommended it to
his kdy friends and wished for the author's closer
acquaintance* He assured Gibbon that he was not
flattering him and that Gibbon would always hear that
Walpole said the same of him to everybody. That may
be so, and Walpole certainly did write to Mason, *Lo,
there is just appeared a truly classic work', but he also

1 Gibbon in a letter to Adam Ferguson. Rae's Adam Smith, p. 287.

* Walpole wrote to Gibbon twice before the day of publication, once in an
undated note which Toynbee places before 6th Pecuniary, and again on
the 14th.

249

EDWARD GIBBON

said of Gibbon whom he had known slightly for some
time,

*he is the son of a foolish alderman, is a member of Parliament
and called a whimsical because he votes variously as his opinion
leads him. I know him a little, never suspected the extent of his
talents, he is perfectly modest.*

That probably expresses the surprise of the town in
general at the achievement of this silent and rather
uncertain little politician. 1

On 1 2th May, five days after the exultant letter to
Deyverdun, Gibbon went down to dine and spend the
night at Strawberry Hill and Walpole read an un-
published chapter from his Essay on Modern Gardening
to him.* Gibbon very likely was already registering his
judgment of the author as an 'ingenious trifler'. 3 Never-
theless his host's attention was flattering and Gibbon
became a constant caller at Arlington Street. Walpole
on his side was more fitted than most people in society
to appreciate not only the humorous aspect of Mr
Gibbon, as he almost invariably calls him, but his his-
torical achievement as well. Moreover he made use of
him not only as retailer of political gossip but as a scout
in Johnson's territory, which he himself steadily refused
to enter. In 1781 Gibbon reported to Walpole that
someone had asked Johnson if he was not afraid that
Mason would resent the liberties he had taken with
Gray in his Lives of the Poets. 'No, no, sir', Johnson had
said. *Mr. Mason does not like rough handling.' Wal-
pole sent this on to Mason, remarking, 'I hope in the
Muses* name that you will let him see which had most
reason to fear rough handling. The Saucy Caliban!'

1 On Z2nd February 1775 Gibbon had voted against the government for
Wilkes* motion to rescind the previous Parliaments measures concerning the
Middlesex election: Protforo, i. 251, n. 2, and 255. It is not known, I think,
on what other occasions Gibbon may have voted against government at this
time.

* Gibbon's diary in Pieipont Morgan library. s Misc. Wks. v. 571,

250

'LO, A TRULY CLASSIC WORK!'

The great letter-writer gives us one or two glimpses of
Gibbon in London society in this triumphant summer.
He describes how at Beauclerk's he

'found Lord Pembroke, Lord Palmerston, Garrick, Burke, the
Dean of Derry, Lord Robert Spencer, and Mr. Gibbon; but
they talked so loud (not the two last) and made such a noise, and
Lord Palmerston made so much more noise with trying to talk,
that it was impossible to know what they said.*

It wanted a few more years, and two more quartos,
before Gibbon could take the fireplace, as Malone
describes, plant his back to it, and taking out his snuff-
box begin to pour forth a fund of anecdote and of
erudition of various kinds. 1 To begin with, at any rate,
a better snuff-box was required,, and Walpole did at
least one substantial service for Gibbon, and incidentally
for posterity too, in helping to supply one.

The historian's snuff-box is one of his inseparable
attributes. As early as his days in Turin he had sketched
himself with it, and later caricaturists and memoirists
seldom leave it out. The time had now come for such a
man to have a box worthy of him. Within two months
of the appearance of The Decline and Fally Walpole
was asking Mme du Deffand to procure a box for M.
Gibbon, of whom she had heard favourably from Mme
Necker. The matter received the active attention of the
old lady and her friends. Box after box was examined
only to be rejected, and it was not until July that one
was despatched and, to Mme du Deffand's satisfaction,
approved of by Walpole. This is the massive gold box
embossed on the lid with cupids attending an altar,
which is now in the British Museum. 2

1 Malone to Lord Charkmont^ 20/2/1794. Hist. MSS. Com. i3th Rep.j
Charlemontj ii. 230.

a Toynbee, Lettres de la marqtdse du Deffand d Hornet Walpole^ iii. 203-268
passim. Gibbon paid 37 : 5 : 6 for the boxj Gibbon's MS. diary for 1776 in
the Pierpont Morgan library.

Chapter 18

PARIS REVISITED

1777

IF anything were wanting to complete Gibbon's satis-
faction, the want was filled for there are singularly
few loose threads in his story by the presence in
London of the Neckers, to see him in the first bloom of
his glory. Necker came over in May on some financial
business, bringing with him his wife and daughter
Germaine. Gibbon was in immediate and constant
attendance.

'I live with her,' he told Holroyd, *just as I used to do twenty
years ago, laugh at her Paris varnish, and oblige her to become
a simple reasonable Suissesse. The man, who might read Eng-
lish husbands lessons of proper and dutiful behaviour, is a sen-
sible good-natured creature.'

Mme Necker saw Garrick act eleven times, often one
may guess in Gibbon's company, and struck up a lively
acquaintance with the great actor. Hannah More records
a party at the Garricks' when she and Mr Gibbon were
the only English guests amid a crowd of beaux esprits,
femmes savantes and academicians. 1 After she returned
to France Mme Necker wrote to Garrick full of en-
thusiasm for Shakespeare and his own acting. In his
reply Garrick called it the most flattering, charming,
bewitching letter that ever came to his hand. It was to
be put in the famous mulberry-wood box. He adds a
vivid little sketch of their friend:

1 A. M. B. Mrakin, Hannah More, p. 71.
252

PARIS REVISITED

'Mr. Gibbon, our learned friend and excellent writer, happened
to be with me when I received the bewitching letter. In the
pride and grateful overflowings of my heart, I could not resist
the temptation of showing it to him he read stared at me
was silent, then gave it me, with these emphatical words em-
phatically spoken This is the very best letter that ever was
written, upon which, a la mode fAngleterre the writer was
remembered with true devotion and full libations.' I

The connexion with Mme Necker, thus resumed after
eleven years of apparently complete silence, was never
to be broken again. Her husband was soon included in
the friendship and her astonishing daughter too, who
was to try her spells on her mothers old lover. The
family returned to France taking with them Gibbon's
most solemn assurances of following in less than two
months.

The.visit was deferred for nearly a year. The autumn
and winter passed with Parliament, visits, dinners,
suppers, and an hour or two stolen with difficulty for
The Decline. Stimulated by praise, Gibbon had lost no
time in going on to fulfil his promise to carry his history
to the end of the Empire in the West, and, with the
optimism of authors, was soon prophesying another
volume. He wrote the first chapter of the second volume,
except the notes, between 4th June and 4th August. 2

Meanwhile there was a small disappointment. *No
news of Deyverdun or his French translation. What a
lazy dog T Gibbon invited Suard, a French writer whom
he had met in Paris in 1763 and who had translated
some of Robertson^ works. But Suard declined with
the flattering suggestion that Gibbon was the one best
qualified to translate his own works. Mme Necker had
been of the same opinion. 3 That was more than Gibbon

1 Mme Necker to Garrick, 5th October, Garrick to Mme Necker, zoth
November 1776. Correspondence of David Ganick t iL 625.

2 MS. diary in the Pierpont Morgan library.

3 Mme du Defend to Walpok, 8 avril 1776.

EDWARD GIBBON

could undertake. In December he received a small
volume, the first seven chapters only, but 'admirably
well done by M. de SeptchSnes (Sevenoaks) . . . who
sent me a very pleasant dose of flattery on the occasion'.
The packet received by post cost Gibbon two and a half
guineas, and he instructed the young man how to avoid
this expense on the next occasion by directing his
letters to Sir Stanier Porten, Under Secretary of State.
Guineas were beginning to be important. Success
indeed was more likely than not to add to his embarrass-
ments. The first hint comes with his election in May
to Almack's, an event ominous for more than one
reason.

'The style of living though somewhat expensive is exceedingly
pleasant and notwithstanding the rage of play I have found
more entertaining and even rational society here than in any
other Club to which I belong/

It was the rational society which was to prove more
dangerous than the sight of Fox and his friends equipped
with eye-shades and leather aprons plunging for tens of
thousands of pounds. In two years Almack's was to be
taken up and transformed by Brooks, whose new club
in St. James's Street was the too attractive home of the
Opposition. 1

The summer had witnessed the outbreak of active
hostilities with the colonists. Gibbon viewed the pros-
pect with misgiving. He feared, only too justifiably,
that 'our Leaders have not a genius which can act at a
distance of 3000 miles' and would have liked to see
Holroyd in the place of the fatal George Germaine, who,
in spite of having been very soundly adjudged by court-
martial to be unfitted to serve His Majesty in any
capacity whatever, was now misdirecting his Sovereign's

1 In fairness to Gibbon's subsequent conduct it must be remembered that
Brooks's was not a party club. Men of all parties and of none belonged.

254

PARIS REVISITED

forces from the highest position. But Gibbon hob-
nobbed with him and retailed his opinions to his cor-
respondents. One little sentence is pregnant with omen :
'Lord G. G. who is playing at whist says there is not
any news though great hopes'. We are relieved when
we hear that Gibbon is off to eat a turtle with Garrick at
Hampton.

Like his leaders Gibbon was unable to realise the
dangers and horrors of war at so great a distance. He
dismissed the guards drafted to America tepidly as
'poor dear creatures*, and just as a few years before
he had contrasted the troubles of the New World
with those of his old Manor, so now he complacently
expressed his own preoccupations in metaphors drawn
from the topic of the day. In November he reported to
Mrs Gibbon that he was very well and 'unhurt amidst
as hot a cannonading as can be pointed against Washing-
ton". The attack was not unforewarned. Within a
month of his publication he knew that the clergy were
showing their teeth. Dr. Beilby Porteous was said to
be sharpening his goose quill. By October fire was
opened by an anonymous pamphleteer, and soon after-
wards the heavy artillery of Dr. Watson and another
adversary were brought into the field.

Meanwhile Gibbon was resolute in his first decision to
stand the attack in silence. The various clouds which
we discern so clearly were not yet sufficient to dim the
sunshine, and we may follow him to Paris, where during
a stay of six months he reached and enjoyed to the fun
the climax of this first period of glory.

A number of incidents delayed this journey; one was
an incursion into a new field. In the early part of 1777
variety and relief from historical studies were found in
attending Hunter the great surgeon's lectures, and some
on chemistry by Higgins. These lessons, together with
a taste for books on Natural History, 'contributed to

EDWARD GIBBON

multiply my ideas and images, and the Anatomist or
Chemist may sometimes track me in their own snoV.
Attendance at Hunter's lectures on anatomy for two
hours in the afternoon 'opened a new and very enter-
taining scene within myself* and lasted from February
into April. Gibbon deferred setting out for Paris until
they were over. Adam Smith used to go with him. A
young student recalled seeing them there together and
heard much of the conversation between Gibbon and
Hunter:

*for Mr. Gibbon, at the end of every lecture, used to leave his
seat to thank the doctor for the pleasure and instruction which
he had received. The mild, courteous, polite, and affable
manners which Mr. Gibbon on these occasions manifested,
were very different from those which may be supposed to have
animated the mind of Junius.* 1

Hunter repaid his questioner with the present of a com-
mentary on Thucydides's account of the plague, a
quarto of six hundred pages published in Venice in
1603.2

The proposed trip to Paris was an occasion to call
forth Mrs Gibbon's maternal solicitude. It was neces-
sary to combat her two ingenious objections. Either
her stepson would be imprisoned, if not put to death,
by the priests, or he would sully his moral character
by making love to Necker's wife. In a long letter he
solemnly disposed of her ideas, even at the expense
of ungallantly stressing the ravages time had made on
his old flame's beauty. As for the priests they were
harmless. Could she imagine a British subject falling

i John Taylor, Records of My Life, ii. 262. Taylor was a grandson of the
Chevalier Taylor who had been amongthe many called in to treat Gibbon in
his childhood. On the preceding page Taylor mentions that his old friend Mr
Boaden, *a gentleman well known and justly respected in the literary world*,
had tried to show Lord Sheffield that Gibbon was Junius. 'His lordship re-
turned a very polite answer . . . and intimated that he knew Gibbon was
notjunins/

* The Declim and Fall, c. xlnf. n. 90.

256

PARIS REVISITED

into their hands? David Hume (the name the most
abhorred by the Godly) had been oppressed only by
civilities. The rising author expected no less for him-
self. Even Holroyd had raised objections and got him-
self called Sir Wilful for his pains.

In May he was off, promising to write from Calais, or
perhaps from Philadelphia, for there were American
privateers in the Channel. But safely landed he felt his
mind expand with the unbounded prospect of the Con-
tinent. Who does not? From thence onward he enjoyed
six months of felicity unclouded by any thoughts of
America or his own sticky acres. He prepared himself
carefully for the figure he meant to cut as a man of the
world and as a man of letters, but did not consider he
was being extravagant at the rate of sixty pounds a
month. He arrayed himself in silk and silver lace, had
two footmen in handsome liveries behind his coach (the
'dear inseparable Caplin' was there too), and lived in an
apartment hung with damask, at the H6tel de Mod&ie,
rue Jacob, in the Faubourg St. Germain.

A typical day began with a morning in the King's
Library; * then dinner with a duke; the comedy was
seen from a princess's kge griltie, after which he must
decide whether to suj> with Mme du Deffand, Mme
Necker or the Sardinian Ambassadress. Even more
than on his first visit, he found Society easy, polite and
entertaining, and the acquisition of valuable and memor-
able acquaintances a daily occurrence. He naturally
scorned the Colis^e, the Vauxhall and the Boulevards,
the forerunners of haunts which are still Paris to most
of his countrymen. Particularly gratifying was the com-
plete harmony of the animal. His stomach proved itself
a citizen of the world, and he regularly ate everything
put before him, to the admiration of his hosts, and drank
*a dish of strong coffee after each meal'.

1 Now absorbed in the Biblioth&qoe Nationals.

257 s

EDWARD GIBBON

That is the way to be a success. The eupeptic his-
torian proceeded to digest all the society that came his
way, with great ease and aplomb. Mme du Deffand
reported on him very favourably to Walpole, taking to
him herself and describing the grace and adaptability
which was winning him a great success. 1 The Due de
Choiseul, minister of Foreign Affairs, sought out his
acquaintance; he met the eccentric Emperor Joseph II
at the Neckers*; was presented at Court; and by accident
dined with Benjamin Franklin.

The septuagenarian American emissary was also being
ffited in Paris, and according to one of his biographers,
'breathed incense every day . He certainly gives in his
letters a very different version from Gibbon's of the
attitude of the French towards the question of inter-
vention in the American quarrel. Cobbett gives a
curious account, taken from an old newspaper, of the
meeting of these two men, not in Paris but on the road.

On arriving at an inn Franklin was informed that
Gibbon was there too and sent in to request the pleasure
of passing the evening together. A card came back to
the effect that, notwithstanding Mr Gibbon's regard
for Dr. Franklin as a man and a philosopher, he could
not reconcile it with his duty to his king to have any
conversation with a revolted subject! Franklin replied
that in spite of Mr Gibbon's refusal he had such a
respect for the character of Mr Gibbon as a gentleman
and a historian, that when in the course of his writing
the history of the decline and fall of empires, the decline
and fall of the British Empire should come to be his
subject, as he expected it soon would, Dr. Franklin
would be happy to furnish him with ample materials
which were in his possession.

The story may be ben trovato. Cobbett did not pretend
to say. He found the expressions strictly in character,

1 Toynbee, Mme du Dcffand, in. passtm*

258

prie de /t

GIBBON, de lui fare Pbow&r

dH

* row keures*

R. S. L. P.

(a) GIBBON'S AUTOGRAPH

(b) GIBBON'S INVITATION CARD

PARIS REVISITED

and remarks, 'in Gibbon we see the faithful subject, and
the man of candour and honour; in Franklin the
treacherous and malicious "old Zanga of Boston".* l

One of the regretted omissions of Gibbon's first visit
was mended when he sought Buffon's acquaintance.
But the only record of their meeting is in a footnote to
one of the Memoirs. 2 In the text Gibbon was then re-
marking that he would soon be entering that last period
which Fontenelle considered the most agreeable of his
long life. The note adds, 'See Buffon, p. 4 1 3. In private
conversation that great and amiable man added the
weight of his own experience/

One other encounter with a scholar is of peculiar
importance. In his Autobiography Gibbon prints an
extract from an anonymous French writer which
describes an encounter between himself and the Abb6
de Mably at M. de Foncemagne's. A discussion arose
on the relative merits of republicanism and monarchy.
Mably pressed the case for the former with instances
from Livy and Plutarch, and had expected to find the
Englishman agreeing with him. But Gibbon took up
the defence of monarchy with spirit, and with his apt
memory and readiness soon dominated the conversa-
tion* The abb6 lost his temper. Gibbon remained cool
and pressed his adversary all the more successfully. The
discussion was growing heated when their host broke it
up by rising from the table, and by the time they reached
the drawing-room no one was inclined to resume it. 3

1 Cobbett's Works, viL 244, and Parton, Benjamin Franklin, iL 209.

* Memoir E, Murray, p. 348 n.

Misc. Wks. i. 227. Sheffield has incorporated in the text what Gibbon had
put in a note: Murray, p. 314. The anecdote above is from Supplement d la
mantere d*tcrire VKstoire, p. 125, by Gudin de la Brennellerie, a pamphlet in
answer to Mably's Manure cTtcrire FHstoire, in which he had avenged the
scene at de Foncemagne's by making disparaging remarks on Gibbon's work.
Mably was extremely jealous of contemjjorary writers. Gibbon bore him no
malice, and praises him more than once in notes to The Decline and Fall and
elsewhere. See Murray cited above, and 5. Hill, p. 31 7*

259

EDWARD GIBBON

The 'fatal month of October' drew near with Gibbon's
zest for Parisian life unabated. He might regret that
he had chosen the summer when people were leaving
Paris. But he had been invited to the country houses
round Paris. He had formed a friendship with Mme
du Deffand which she was more eager to keep up than
he; he was observed to be distinctly tpris with Mme de
Cambis, who, though not young, practised with success
a coquetry which was s&che>froide etpiquante, and he was
on intimate terms with Mme de Genlis, who in time was
to pay him a despicable turn. 1 As for the priests, he
gloried in having sat down to supper between two arch-
bishops. A dubious triumph perhaps, because probably
they had not read his history and had possibly had their
part in seeing that the authorised French translation did
not go so far as the dangerous chapters.

It is to the time of his departure probably that the
story belongs of little Germaine Necker, who offered to
marry M. Gibbon because then he would never need
to leave them. 2

Her mother gave the visitor a handsome report in a
letter to Garrick:

*Le voila votre Tacite, votre Tite Lire! We have not spoilt
him in spite of all our efforts. If he had sounded the feeling of
this country, he might tell you that our most beautiful and
aristocratic ladies first wished to know him out of curiosity and
then could not part from him for real liking. Mr. Hume was
the vogue amongst us because his manners and good nature
contrasted somewhat with his reputation which was never lost
to sight. But Mr. Gibbon, after the first moments, has stolen
all the homage that one wished to pay to his book. He takes
nothing away with him here, for it is he that has given every-

1 Mme du Deffand complained to Walpole that Gibbon had ceased to write
to her. In 1779 Gibbon tells Deyverdun, in an unpublished letter, that he
owes letters to Mme de Gambia, Mme de Genlis and the Princesse de
Beauvau.

* Bfennerhassety Mculcone de StcifZy i. 101.

260

PARIS REVISITED

thing; however he returns with the esteem, friendship and sad
regrets of all good people." J

Gibbon was not ungrateful and repaid his friends in
his own magnificent way. After describing the Paris
of the fourth century he says:

'If Julian could now revisit the capital of France, he might
converse with men of science and genius, capable of understand-
ing and of instructing a disciple of the Greeks; he might excuse
the lively and graceful follies of a nation whose martial spirit
has never been enervated by the indulgence of luxury; and he
must appkud the perfection of that inestimable art which
softens and refines and embellishes the intercourse of social life.* 2

Bentinck Street and the problems of existence were
reached on the 3rd of November. It would be several
years before he was to enjoy such unalloyed happiness
again, if ever. The first disagreeable incident, however,
was the revolt of his overworked citizen of the world,
which had diffused through his system a very British
complaint. He supported the attack for a fortnight with
good-humour and announced:

'the Gout has behaved in a very honourable manner; after a
compleat conquest , . , the generous Enemy has disdained to
abuse his victory or torment any longer an unresisting victim.*

1 GarHcFs Correspondence* ii. 626. The letter is in French. Mme du Defiand
told Walpole, 2ist September, *H se conduit fort bien et sans avoir, je crois,
autant cTesprit, que feu Mr. Hume, fl ne tombe pas dans les mfcmes ridicules*.

2 The Decline and Fall, c. xix. adfoi.

26l

T

Chapter

A VINDICATION

1779

HE surprise which Gibbon expressed at the recep-
tion of his first volume need not be ironical. It was
an age of free enquiry, and in spite of his own experience,
he continued to hold that the ferment of controversy had
subsided and the most pious Christians of the day were
ignorant or careless of their own belief. 1 His old friend
George Lewis Scott, the mathematician, who read the
proofs, had observed that the author would be 'thought
to have written with all due moderation and decency
with respect to received (at least once received)
opinions*. 2 Gibbon's psychology may have been at
fault; yet who could fail to see in the arrangement of
that volume, ending with the fifteenth and sixteenth
chapters, a carefully laid train leading to a violent if not
dangerous explosion?

It was a commonplace of outraged readers that he had
led them unforewamed through flowery paths to this
deadly feast. It was equally common knowledge that
many eager readers let the first fourteen chapters alone.
A dreadful situation. Davis puts this charge in the fore-
front of ids pamphlet. But he does not develop this
argument, nor was it the sting which drove Gibbon at
last to reply.

When Gibbon was accused by Davis drcumstantially

1 The Decline and Fall, c. xlviL (6-29) and also c. IviiL (7-188).

a Misc. Wks. iL 141.

262

A VINDICATION

of wilfully misrepresenting and even falsifying his
authorities, he was bound to defend his honour both as
a gentleman and as a serious investigator. 1 There was
no difficulty in that. The details do not interest us now.
Yet the Vindication can still be read as an example of
deadly polemic. Gibbon's prose was never more force-
ful. He strengthened his position by saluting Dr.
Watson as an adversary whose mind and manners
commanded respect, and having dealt firmly but
moderately with two other pamphleteers, he announced
that he had replied once and for all. The Vindication
was printed in octavo to prevent people binding it up
with the history.

Davis wrote a counter reply. Others rushed into the
fray. Abstention from controversy is not a thing that
comes easy to the writing-tribe. But with rare wisdom
Gibbon never went back on his word. Indeed what was
there to reply to? His enemies 'furious and feeble'
could not parry a stroke which had already dealt a
decisive wound. They could only lash out spitefully as
they lay on the ground. 2 Phrases such as 'Gibbon's
implacable hostility to Christianity' beg a large question.
That is not so important as that this loose accusation
obscures the Historian's real achievement. He remains
a useful bogy even for many who stand on ground he
won for them.

What infuriated the pious, even if they did not at once
realise the full measure of it, was that Gibbon had
broken down for good the frontiers between sacred and
secular history. By the simple device of explaining the
rise of Christianity through five secondary causes added
to the Divine Will, he eliminated God from the field of

1 H. E. Davis, An Examination, etc., 1778.

2 The Many against Gibbon have been exhaustively catalogued and sum-
marised in masterly manner by Shelby X. McCloy in his Gibbon and Ms
Antagonism to Christiamtyj New York and London, 1933*

263

EDWARD GIBBON

all historical research for ever. His critics could only
change or multiply the secondary causes. Henceforth
'It was God's will* was going to solve problems for no
one outside a Sunday school. The ground may have
been prepared by Middleton, Hume and Voltaire. The
final drive was Gibbon's own, a very brilliant piece of
tactics. It was a signal advance in historical science.

In the subsequent volumes Gibbon pursued his task
of secularising the history of the Church. He destroyed
the phantom of primitive purity, and showed on the
contrary that no evil feature of human nature was
absent. 'Ambition is a weed of quick and early vegeta-
tion in the vineyard of Christ/ x

If Christianity has ever been a system founded on
superstition and privilege, which puts influence above
truth and defends nonsense with cruelty, intrigues with
inexhaustible duplicity and buys power with gold and
blood, which bullies and cringes by turns, preaches
peace and enjoys war, demands the blind obedience of
the reason, and approves a cynical disparity in morals
between profession and act, then indeed Gibbon may
be said to be its implacable enemy and veracious
historian.

But the Christianity of the Historian's England was not
anything so lurid, and he could look on with amusement
while 'the forms of orthodoxy, the articles of faith, are
subscribed with a sigh, or a smile, by the modern
clergy', 2 whose peace and security, he observed with
equal contentment, were most favoured by religious
indifference. 3 It suited himself as well as anyone. A
gentleman in England had no need to go shouting
\Ecrasez 1'infame', and Gibbon was betrayed into a
most unusual display of temper and bad manners, and
indeed undignified temporising, when the upstart Dr.

1 The Decline and Fall, c. box. (8-211).

* Op. cit. c. Irv. (7-61). 3 Of > cit. c. Lrix. (8-190).

264

A VINDICATION

Priestley tried to involve him in a public debate on the
corruptions of Christianity.

But, again, if an observer in our own day reviews the
inroads made by the -churches themselves into that
centre of the sacred field which Gibbon had scrupu-
lously avoided an avoidance which had but demon-
strated its vulnerability or if he observes ecclesiastics
proving their latter-day change of heart by scourging
their predecessors, he may well wonder wherein the
quarrel with Gibbon lies. Such men as Voltaire, Hume
and Gibbon should be recognised among the Fathers of
the modern churches. 1 That is not to say, however, that
they would welcome an affiliation order.

But gratitude is seldom a theological virtue, since those
who are indebted to divine guidance cannot express
much obligation to men. Besides Gibbon has not got a
very good tone. To be a scientific historian is one thing;
to go about his work with such inimitable wit and gaiety
of attack is another. He does not fit in with those
earnest workmen who claim to be rebuilding while they
are still blowing up the foundations. Fighting parsons
have felt his indirect methods to be somewhat unmanly.
No doubt there is some truth in the observation that
Gibbon's irony was designed to disarm prosecution.
But one cannot suppose that he could have expressed
himself very differently. Le style Jest fhomme m$me.
Witness the characteristic signs in his early letters.
Nevertheless his attack is not so unvaryingly oblique
as might be imagined from some of his critics, friendly
or hostile. The solemn sneer is by no means his only
weapon, and there is no lack of forthright decisive
strokes.
Gibbon was well aware of another risk. 'It should

1 Cf. Gibbon's own remark, *I am sorry to observe that the three writers of
the last age, by whom the rights of toleration have been so nobly defended,
Bayle, Leibnitz and Locke, are all laymen and philosophers* (op. of. c, liv.
n. 39).

265

EDWARD GIBBON

seem that the zeal of our ancestors boiled higher* (he
was contrasting 'miscreant* with the literal 'm^cr&nt'
of the French crusaders), 'and that they branded every
unbeliever as a rascal. A similar prejudice still lurks in
the minds of many who think themselves Christians/ x
He must have known that he had already exposed him-
self by his improprieties, though the full force of his
enemies' resentment on this score took some time in
gathering.

If any are still scandalised by the historian's sallies,
they will scarcely be helped by learning that a great
part of them are drawn from the Fathers of the Church
whose dirt Tillemont had raked together. 2 Nor will
they be conciliated by Gibbon's taking cover with poor
Sterne behind a bishop. 3 Gibbon's plea of nihil humani
alienum for including in his history what people preferred
to ignore was sound enough, 4 and the present age can
only smile at his having needed to enter it. But he spoilt
his case to some extent by his uncritical zest for scandal
and his monotonous gibes about the frailty of nuns.
It may be that the sack of cities has been a welcome
break in conventual routine. But the joke soon becomes
inartistic, and its removal from one sentence would
certainly improve the great description of the pillage
of Constantinople, 5

These improprieties are almost entirely confined to his
History. But the contrast of the historian's letters has
been remarked on with needless surprise. For it is not
difficult to see that his correspondence is pervaded with
sexual metaphor. Taken with the persistent harping on
feminine frailty of The Decline and Fall, this seems to
form a literary compensation for a grievance which
Gibbon had never got over, in spite of his attaining to

1 The Decline and FaHj c. IviiL n. 83. 3 Op. cit. c. xxvii. n. 51.

3 Op. cit. c. IvL n. 14. * Mttrnap, p. 337.

* The Decline and Fall, c. kviii. (8-173).

266

A VINDICATION

friendships with women of the kind which he admitted
were best suited to his nature, and about which no
scandalous tongue could ever wag.

The expurgator is inevitably an altruist, and there is
commonly a false ring about his indignation. When
the worst is said, no one really wishes Gibbon had
written otherwise. Bowdler's edition was never a suc-
cess and aroused immediate protest. The condemned
passages contain too much wit and too much learning;
they are too deadly an exposure of the hypocrisy of
centuries. Gibbon's fun is only the morality of the
Fathers turned inside out.

In the turmoil which his pleasantries aroused, his
more serious observations on sex have been overlooked,
though one of them drew down contemporary censure.
It would on the whole be applauded to-day. He stands
up for the princess Honoria, who had 'yielded to the
impulse of nature', and says that guilt and shame
are the absurd language of imperious man. 1 He also
balances his tales of Theodora by questioning whether
the female mind is totally depraved by the loss of
chastity. 2

One might see too almost an irony on some modern
aspirations, when he gives an appreciative glance at 'the
gentle and amorous people' of Tahiti. 3 But Gibbon
understood his Europe too well to suppose that a general
licence could be given *to the most amiable of our weak-
nesses*. 4 While recognising the need for divorce, he
did not suppose that all our matrimonial troubles would
be ended if it was conceded without restraint. The true
happiness of marriage and fidelity are never sneered at,
and he recognised that Christianity had done something
to raise the dignity of marriage. 5

1 Op. tit. c. xxrv. (4-229). a Op. tit. c. xl. (5-45).

3 Op. cit. c. Ixyi. n. 29. 4 Vp. tit. c. xiv. (2-143).

* Op. cit. c. xliv. passim.

267

EDWARD GIBBON

More attention may be paid to the assertion that
Gibbon was devoid of religious feeling and incapable of
appreciating the poetry or Christianity. The argument
is partly irrelevant, or not very creditable if it is thought
or hoped that a deeper sentiment might have blunted
the edge of Gibbon's intellect. There is also a lurking
anachronism. Gibbon was spared the worst of the
Gothic revival. And it is not fair to judge him, any
more than his most pious contemporaries, by the en-
thusiasms of a later age. Yet it cannot be denied that
Gibbon's deficient comprehension of religious ex-
perience renders his account unsatisfying. Something
of the Middletonian school with its rough and ready
theory of imposture hangs about him. Moreover his
preoccupation with the backsliding of the clergy in-
volves an insufficient attention to the changes in the
people's morals. Modern insight into religious psycho-
logy and the comparative study of religions have
revealed aspects of which Gibbon hardly dreamed.
Scholars have in fact removed much of the remaining
mystery in the rise of Christianity.

To accuse a person of lacking religious feeling or even
beliefs is deceptively easy, since serious proof or rebuttal
can have little part in the game. It may be said with
confidence that Gibbon did not subscribe to any of the
articles of the Creed except the first. On occasions he
would affirm with sincere emphasis the conventional
existence of God. It was a convenient working symbol
for the inexplicable. Beyond that he knew with Aris-
totle that the Deity had received such attributes as
man from time to time felt inclined to allow Him, and
he himself protested that terms like the wrath and anger
of God were qualities very foreign to the perfect Being. 1
In another passage that anticipates modern sentiment,

1 The Dec&te and Fall, c. xrriL (3-369), and c. Ivii. n. 27, and Add. MSS.
34882 49.

268

A VINDICATION

he remarks that the church of St. Euphemia, where the
council of Chalcedon met, stood on a hill near the
Bosphorus, 'whence the boundless prospect of the land
and sea might have raised the mind of a sectary to the
contemplation of the God of the universe'. 1

He understood, better than some modern divines, that
there must be an element of the irrational in every
religion if it is to make a deep and lasting impression. 2
But his sympathies were with the Reformers, and he
hailed Erasmus as the father of rational theology, 3 and
when he says 'theology may perhaps be superseded by
the full light of religion and reason', the vague aspira-
tion (which might come out of a modern sermon) seems
to anticipate some sort of ethical church in which 'the
pure and simple maxims othe Gospel* no doubt would

?lay their part. Gibbon shows none of the animosity to
esus common in modern times, but he takes no great
interest in him, and seldom mentions him except to
draw reproachful attention to the discrepancy between
his mild and humble virtues and the intolerance of his
followers. 4

It might not have been so necessary to consider the
quality of the historian's views had not both friends
and enemies, for their several ends, started the notion
that Gibbon in the end became something of a believer.

Too much has been made of an artful letter to Hester
Gibbon, containing the remark that religion was the
'best guide of youth and the best support of old age'.
It all depends on the religion of course. But a man is
not on his oath when he writes to his aunt. A speck of
dust must neither be magnified into a stumbling-block
nor into a rock of witness. When Catherine Porten
died in 1786, Gibbon could say no more than 'I will

1 Op. cit. c. xlvii. (6-27). % *Op.cit.c. viii. (1-336).

3 Op. cit. c. liv. n. 38. The whole of this chapter is of the greatest importance
for (ribbon's views on Protestantism. * Of. erf. c. L

269

EDWARD GIBBON

agree with my lady that the immortality of the soul is
on some occasions a very comfortable doctrine', and in
1793 after Lady Sheffield's death he told her husband
that if there was a future state, her 'mild virtues' must
surely be rewarded. At another time he argued with
his friend that there could not be errors in annihilation,
since one would know nothing about it. 1

Nor should much weight be given to le doyen Bridel's
evidence. Bridel, who often dined with Gibbon 3 remarks
that he never spoke against religion at table. Very true,
no doubt. But when it is said that Gibbon wished he
had never written against Revelation and that he died
*avec des sentiments religieux', we require a more im-
partial witness than this friendly pastor. And there
were certainly others who did not agree with Bridel. 2

Gibbon's utterances may have taken colour from the
piety of the friends who surrounded him in his last years.
He was always susceptible to the personal equation.
He may even have imagined that he would have written
his famous chapters differently had he known the pain
they were to give. 3 It may be so. As life advances one
should learn to respect sincerity in one's opponents.
There is a legitimate difference between the combative
spirit of a man's books and his bearing in society.
Apollo is not always shooting. But the difference should
be respected on both sides, and it is difficult not to smile
when at the close of his seventieth chapter Gibbon says
*nor am I willing in these last moments to offend even
the Pope and clergy of Rome*. There is at any rate no

1 Add. MSS. 34882, f. 49. Gibbon's objection to Christian or philosophical
doctrines of immortality was that they did not allow that *a onion of sensual
and intellectual enjoyment is requisite to complete the happiness of the double
animal*. Mahomet Knew better. Op. cit. c. I. Modern spiritualists seem to
have felt the same difficulty.

a B. de Lalonde, Le Uman ou voyage pittoresque, etc. (Paris, 1842), pp. 277
sqq.

s Murrey, p. 316.

27O

A VINDICATION

evidence that he ever moved from the intellectual
position to which he had advanced in early manhood.

Johnson, and Bowdler after him, prophesied a short
day for infidel writers. But it is Gibbon who remains,
while the apologists have risen and fallen in a chain of
slaughter, somewhat like the keepers of the Arician
grove. Paley, who was applauded by Boswell at Gibbon's
expense, has at last been trodden firmly under heel by
Dr. Inge. 1 He survived longer than most, thanks to the
University of Cambridge; otherwise his is a typical fate.

The secret of Gibbon's permanence in this field of
history lies not merely in the victories he won, but in
those he may still win. Superstition, institutionalism
and intolerance, the especial objects of his attack, are
not dead, but his weapons have not rusted. His broad
and pregnant generalisations are as provocative as ever.

'In the profession of Christianity the variety of national
characters may be clearly distinguished/ 2 Never more
true than at the present day. 'The successors of St. Peter
appear to have followed rather than guided the impulse
of manners and prejudice/ 3 He might have included
the reformed churches too, which even more obviously
follow with tentative footsteps the moral grazing of their
flocks; for 'private reason always prevents or outstrips
public wisdom'. 4 If it has been admitted above that
Gibbon pays too little attention to the changes in
popular morals effected by Christianity, a corrective of
searching power may be supplied in the aphorism/much
more is to be ascribed to the humanity than to the
religion of the people'. 5

1 W. R, Inge, Protestantism, p. jz. The writer lias exposed the weakness of
nearly every form of Protestantism with great mastery. J. M. Robertson
(Gibbon, p. 68) has some amusing remarks on the quarrels of Gibbon's
commentators, especially on the way Milman and Boko, s anonymous clergy-
man rallied to their wicked compatriot against the attacks of foreign critics.

* The Decline and Fall, c. liv. (7-46). a Op. cit. c. lix. (7-269).

* Op. ctt. c. xxv. n. 44. * Op. cit. c. L n. 105.

271

EDWARD GIBBON

The superficial weakness of this remark lies in
Gibbon's own demonstration that religion itself is but
one of the works of man. But he means to contrast the
broad and irresistible progress of the general conscience
with the claims of self-constituted authorities to have
checked or impelled it. He reaches forward indeed to
the modern conception that systems like Christianity
are not so much salves applied from without, as the
moulds, for good or evil, of forces working within the
human spirit, which vary infinitely with the variations of
time, place and racial instinct.

272

Chapter 20

A LORD OF TRADE

1779

/npHE harmony of a successful historian's life was
A marred by two mutually conflicting themes; his
lack of faith in the Government more and more forcibly
expressed, and the growing insistence of the truth that
unless Government found him a place, he could not
continue to live in London, not, at least, in the style to
which he scarcely knew an alternative.

Gibbon's enthusiasm for the Government's policy had
never been markedly spontaneous, but on the outbreak
of regular hostilities with the colonists in 1776, he
seems to have assimilated a little of the ministerial
optimism which fell in well with his own elated mood.
Rumour came home from Paris of a pitched battle
between him and the Duke of Richmond, Fox's leader
in the other House. Gibbon put in a disclaimer, although
he confessed that the extravagance of both French and
English supporters of the Americans sometimes inspired
him with extraordinary vigour. But he proceeds to kick
away his own weak stool. He found it much easier to
defend the justice than the policy of the Government's
actions. 'But there are certain cases where whatever is
repugnant to sound policy ceases to be just'

By the end of the year his expressions were more
trenchant. The glow kindled by Howe's success at
Philadelphia had been extinguished by Burgoyne's
surrender at Saratoga. 'Are you still fierce?' Gibbon

273 T

EDWARD GIBBON

asked Holroyd, and reported a universal desire for
peace in which he obviously shared. He threatened
revolt.

*I shall scarcely give my consent to exhaust still further the
finest country in the world in the prosecution of a war from
whence no reasonable man entertains any hope of success. It
is better to be humbled than ruined/

Nor did he confine his opinions to Holroyd's confidence.
Walpole wrote in his journal in November:

'Mr. Gibbon told me soon afterwards that he was convinced
that if it had not been for shame, there were not twenty men in
the House but were ready to vote for peace. I did not think it
very decent in so sensible a man to support the war and make
sucn a confession.' z

But Gibbon not only went on to say harsher things of
the Government, he said or wrote them at Almack's,
very likely within hearing of Charles Fox's passionate
declamations.

Fox's was a potent spell. In him were united qualities
which made him pre-eminent in the most diverse com-
panies. 'Other men of his time had all these advan-
tages but none of them had also the cheerful simplicity
of character and the unfailing kindness which made his
friendship a thing to be cherished through life and
commemorated after death.* 2 The best of his powers
and vitality were now being exerted to build up the
opposition to Lord North's unhappy government.

Gibbon had known Fox at least as early as 1774 when
they both joined the Club. Fox was then at the bottom
of political and monetary fortune. He had never been a
frequent or prominent member at the Turk's Head, and
with the increase of his parliamentary activity he almost

* Walpole, Last Journals (ed. A. F. Steuart), ii. p. 76.
a E. Lascelles, The Life of Charles James Fox, p. 160.

274

A LORD OF TRADE

ceased to attend. 1 But he was always to be found at
Almack's, the brilliant centre of a brilliant though ex-
travagant company, to which Gibbon felt himself intel-
lectually if not financially akin, from the moment of his
election. Gibbon has been accused of courting Fox.
It is just as likely that Fox courted him. While he
tried to unite and inspirit the listless factions of the
Whigs, it was important to wear down the Government
majority by detaching, one by one, members whose
interests or convictions were suffering in the stress of
the war. The silent Gibbon's vote was as valuable as
the most loquacious member's, and Fox's easy school
might well succeed to Governor Johnson's intensive
tuition.

It may not be without significance that in October
1776 Gibbon is found being cheerfully entertained at
Ampthill by Lord Ossory, whom, with his brother
Fitzpatrick, Fox had recently won over to his side. Be
that as it may, Gibbon was steadily drawn into Fox's
circle. It was natural that he who could hardly say one
sentence without premeditation, should admire Fox's
passionate impromptus in the House, and enjoy hearing
Thurlow and Wedderburn vainly cajoling each other to
rise and answer him. 2 But such impartial admiration
was of less avail at Almack's, where, as he writes his brief
lively notes, 'Charles Fox is at my elbow declaiming on
the impossibility of keeping America'. With this intoxi-
cation stimulating only his reason and better feelings,
Gibbon was incited to his brief revolt against the
Government.

*I shall perhaps sup with Charles etc. at Almack's*
Gibbon told Holroyd on 26th January 1778, and the
next day he voted with the minority on a motion asking
for the despatches from the generals in America. A
week later came Fox's famous motion 'that no more

1 See Appendix III, p. 359. * Walpole, Last Journals, L p. 584.

275

EDWARD GIBBON

of the Old Corps be sent out of the Kingdom'. The
motion was lost, but the opposition vote had risen
in a month from 89 to 165,* and Gibbon had been
among them. Two days later there was a vote of supply
for new levies, and Gibbon voted with the majority.
It looks as if he had been brought to heel. There is no
record, I believe, of his voting against the Government
again.

Almack's was not given up though fewer surviving
letters are directed thence and Gibbon's tongue was
not altogether silent. Perhaps the Whigs still hoped to
get him. In March Holroyd hears 'this moment
Beauclerk, Lord Ossory, Sheridan, Garrick, Burke,
Charles Fox and Lord Cambden (no bad set you will
say) have just left me'. But, pull devil, pull baker. Four
months later Gibbon was living 'not unpleasantly in a
round of ministerial dinners'.

Gibbon returned to North; but North was nowstanding
on a Whig platform. Fox's motion on the Old Corps
had been inspired by a fear of European war as much
as by a desire to end the American. North was moved
to produce conciliatory proposals which were so stag-
gering a surrender that Fox could only say that they
were identical with Burke's of three years before, but
were now too late. A commercial treaty between
France and the colonists, of which the Opposition were
as well informed as the Government, made a new war
a certainty. Gibbon thought, as men commonly think
in such a national crisis, that it was better to support the
ministry in being than to make chancy experiments.
And chance and Fox were almost synonyms. The noble
humanity of the 'Black patriot' 2 and his appeal to the
principles of 1688 were fine fuel for singeing the
Government. It was less certain whether they would
yield the timber for a settlement with the Americans

cf. cit. p. 73. * Prothero, L p. 4.

276

A LORD OF TRADE

and their allies. Subsequent events can hardly have
persuaded Gibbon that he was wrong.

The historian's own affairs were progressing towards
a crisis. He was still burdened with his father's debts,
and his own expenses were certainly not sinking. Per-
haps he could count on ^700^800 in a good year. He
was spending over 1000. A few hundred pounds
from his History was only a transitory gratification, and
towards the end of 1778 the position was becoming
very awkward.

After years of suspense the sale of Lenborough, which
had promised so much, finally broke down. Instead of
using part of the 20,000 hoped for to pay off an
ancient debt, Gibbon was forced by the bankers, Clive
and Gosling, to sell his New River share *a delicious
morsel'. Of 7500 got thus he only saw 500. At the
same time the Buriton estate caused him unexpected
trouble and expenses. These were serious losses, but
the crisis was precipitated by Mrs Gibbon's announced
intention of leaving Bath.

A long conciliatory reply from her stepson reveals at
last the root of her difficulties. Life at Belvedere was
too expensive, and it was so because Mrs Gibbon was
not receiving the full interest on a bond to her late
relative James Scott for 1980. The facts are veiled on
both sides with a becoming delicacy of phrase. But it
is clear that Gibbon had been trading on his 'Mama's'
good nature while he cut a figure in town.

He would not admit that he was being extravagant, or
had incurred any considerable debts since his father's
death. But economy must be understood to be a relative
matter.

* As long as I am in Parliament, a house in Bentinck Street, a

277

EDWARD GIBBON

coach, such a proportion of servants, clothes, living etc., are
almost necessaries.'

But other countries were less expensive:

'France, Switzerland or perhaps Scotland, may afford an humble
Philosophical retreat to a man of letters, nor should I suffer any
accidental change of fortune, any fell in the World to affect my
spirits or ruffle my tranquillity/

It was an effective and not altogether unjustifiable
threat. Gibbon's friends and relations were always more
anxious to see him rise in the world of politics than he
was himself. They must pay for this pleasure. As it was,
Mrs Gibbon agreed to wait patiently for the develop-
ment of an alternative darkly hinted at, and then out-
lined less vaguely. He was closely connected with the
Attorney-General, as Wedderburn now was. There was
a prospect of a joint progress in which the lawyer's friend
might reach *a seat at one of the boards with an additional
income of 1000 a year/ Such a turn of fortune might
be expected about Easter 1779.

In July patience was rewarded by Gibbon's appoint-
ment to a seat at the Board of Trade and Plantations.
The salary, 750 only, was enough to remove pressing
difficulties. Gibbon immediately undertook to pay his
stepmother an additional jioo a year (300 in all)
which would represent five per cent on his bond. The
appointment was suggestively timely. It had been a
close thing.

'Every morning', he wrote, 'I expected the event of the even-
ing and every evening the return of the morning. Till the
business was absolutely finished a hundred accidents might have
dashed the cup from my lips,'

One last awkward corner was successfully turned. His
appointment under government would necessitate a by-
election. But Mr Eliot was now in opposition, and as

278

A LORD OF TRADE

Gibbon remarked of a later and less happy occasion,
the electors of Liskeard were commonly of the same
opinion as Mr Eliot. A persuasive letter was necessary.

*DEAR SIR,

'Yesterday I received a very interesting communication
from my friend the Attorney General whose kind and honour-
able behaviour to me, I must always remember with gratitude.
He informed me that in consequence of an arrangement he had
just made with Lord North a place at the board of trade was
reserved for me, and that as soon as I signified my acceptance of
it, he understood that the business would immediately be settled.
My answer was sincere and explicit. I told him that I was far
from approving all the past measures of administration even
some of those in which I myself had silently concurred; that I
saw with the rest of the World many essential defects in the
character of the Ministers and was sorry that in so alarming a
Crisis 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 Members of Opposition any connec-
tions or engagements which could restrain my parliamentary
conduct; that I did not discover among them such a superiority
either of measures or abilities as could make it a duty for me to
attach myself to their cause; and that I perfectly agreed with
Charles Fox himself in thinking that at a time which required
our utmost unanimity, Opposition could not tend to any good
purpose and might be productive of much serious mischief.
That in this view of public affairs, I saw no reason which ought
to prevent me from accepting an office under Government and
that I was ready to embrace so advantageous and honourable an
offer. But that he must be sensible that it was impossible for me
to give a decisive answer till I had consulted the person to whose
generous friendship I was indebted for my seat in Parliament,
and to whom I must be obliged for my resurrection as well as for
my creation. That from my knowledge of your dislike to the
present System it was not in my power to aetermine whether
you might not feel some reluctance to replace me in a situation
in which I could never oppose and must generally support the
measures of Government. But that the experience of your
friendship inspired me however with a lively hope that you
would not refuse on this interesting occasion to renew and

279

EDWARD GIBBON

confirm the obligation you had already conferred upon me, and
that perhaps you might not esteem the addition (if it can be
called the adoition) of a mute of any great moment to the
numerous and regular forces of administration. That my con-
duct must depend entirely on your resolution; but that your
resolution, whatever it might be, would not find room in my
breast for any other sentiments, than those of the warmest
gratitude and regard.

Perhaps, Dear Sir, you will ask why I have troubled you with
this formal Epistle instead of tiling on you in Spring Garden
and talking over the business in a friendly and familiar way.
The reason which prevented me arises from something which
still remains to be said and which it would have been painful to
me to say or for you to hear Your answer will decide whether
I may continue to live in England or whether I must speedily
withdraw myself into a kind of Philosophical exile in Switzer-
land. My father left his affairs in a very embarrassed and even
distressed! condition. My efforts, perhaps not very skilful ones
to dispose of a part of my landed property have been hitherto
unsuccessful and the times do not grow more favourable to
them; and the plan of my expences however moderate in itself
deserves the name of extravagance since it exceeds the measure
of my real income. The addition of the salary which is now
offered will make my situation perfectly easy; but I hope you
will do me the justice to believe that my mind would not be so,
unless I were sincerely persuaded that I could accept the offer
with honour and integrity.
*I am

'Dear Sir

'with affectionate regard

'most faithfully Yours

'E. GIBBON

*BENTINCK STREET
*Jvne the 2,oth 1779.* J

The appeal was successful, and the new Lord of Trade
entered his new office, which, though not a sinecure, did
not make too great a claim on ids time. The remainder

1 From the original MS. at Port Eliot. It differs considerably from the
draft text in Misc. Wks. L 236.

280

A LORD OF TRADE

of the year passed cheerfully. The second volume of
The Decline and Fall progressed so well that its ap-
pearance was prophesied for the following year, and
since Cadell strenuously urged the curiosity of the
public, the author had sat during May to Sir Joshua
and the portrait was to be engraved by Hall as a
frontispiece.

Gibbon disclaimed being 'the Champion of any
party', but he rendered his benefactors service by com-
posing his Mtmoire Justificatif, a document addressed
to Europe on the impropriety of France's interfering
in a domestic quarrel. Trevelyan has said that 'no
more ably composed and entirely readable state paper
was ever issued'. 1 Its topic makes it of some interest at
the present day.

That Gibbon wrote this document after his appoint-
ment is proved by a letter to Lord Weymouth, Secretary
of State, enclosing the first draft. It was published in
October. 2

*MY LORD,

*I have endeavoured to execute the very honourable task
which your Lordship and the Lord Chancellor wished me to
undertake, and I now submit to your judgement my first, im-
perfect, Essay, in this kind of Composition. I am apprehensive
that to many other defects it may add the fault of being too long;
yet I am not conscious that it is more diffuse than the style
of these public declarations almost inevitably reauires. It far
exceeds the measure of the French Declaration j out it must be
considered that facts and arguments will take up more room
than mere empty declamation. However if the paper which I
have the honour of transmitting to your Lordship should be
thought to require or to deserve any alterations, I shall esteem
it as a very particular favour, if I may be permitted to attend
your Lordship, and the Chancellor to receive your farther
instructions. If I have been totally unsuccessful in the execution
of your Commands, I flatter myself that the attempt will be

1 American Revolution, iii. 263. * Prothtro, i. 371 and n.

28l

EDWARD GIBBON

accepted as a slight but sincere proof of my zeal for his Majesty's
service and Government

*I have the honour to be, with the highest respect,
'Your Lordship's

'Most obedient and most humble servant,

'E. GIBBON
'BENTINCK STREET
August the loth, 1779.'*

The shafts of the wits were not to be avoided. Verses
attributed to Fox circulated at Brooks's (late Almack's)
in which George III was alleged to have bought
Gibbon's silence for fear that he would write the history
of the decline and fall of the British Empire. The
verses are neat and stinging, but not malicious. Pos-
terity has taken more seriously the story of Fox's
inscription in a copy of The Decline and Fall among his
effects when he was sold up. 2 It sold for three guineas,
more in honour to this inscription on the first leaf than
to the work:

'I received this from the author (on such a day).

*N.B. I heard him declare at Brooks's the day after the Rescript
of Spain was notified that nothing could save this country but
six heads (of certain Ministers whom he named) upon the table.
In fourteen days after this anathema he became a Lord of Trade
and has ever since talked out of the House as he has voted in it,
the advocate and champion of those Ministers. Charles Fox.'

No one appears to have seen this inscription, and it
may be questioned how far it is consistent with Fox's
character, of whom Gibbon himself said in later years,
'perhaps no human being was ever more perfectly
exempt from the taint of malevolence, vanity, or false-

1 From the original at Longkat.

2 G. Hardinge to Walpole, n.d. Nichols's Literary Illustrations, iii. 213.
Anthony Storer says the book was withdrawn from the sale in spite of Fox's
wishes. No record of the hook's having been seen since the sale appears to
exist.

282

A LORD OF TRADE

hood*. Eliot's son in 1796 told Wilberforce that
Gibbon asserted that he had said 'till both North's and
Fox's heads' were on the table. 1 Who can say if it is the
true version or a wriggle?

Another attack which may have been more exasperating
at the time has nearly been forgotten. During the year
Macpherson, one of the old associates of the British
Coffee House, published A Short History of the Oppo-
sition. It was poor stuff, and those who attributed it to
Gibbon were exposing their own intelligence to ridicule.
Nevertheless, Gibbon found it necessary to tell his step-
mother that he had not written it and knew nothing
of its production. The rumour persisted however, and
in the same year appeared an acrimonious answer to
which was prefixed 'an address to Messrs, Wedder-
burn, Gibbon and Macpherson'.

After handling Wedderburn very roughly for a turn-
coat the writer opens with a peculiarly aggravating
turn : *Tp you Mr. Gibbon I had a great deal to say but
I have forgot it'. Nevertheless the author rushes into
a round of abuse, not without side glances at North.
Gibbon is accused of apostasy from God, his country
and his political friends. He would have betrayed the
secrets of the Opposition if they had been simple enough
to trust him. Now he abuses them, while throwing out
oblique censures on Administration. Lord North had
hired him as a faithful servant. But North was merely
a registry office, unable either to fix the wages or assign
the offices of his employees. Later the writer comes
back to his victim again.

'If Mr. Gibbon had succeeded as an author or had been trusted
by the party on whom he obtruded himself, what would the
American Secretary 2 do for an Atlas to support the burden of
the state, while his lordship is innocently amusing himself with

1 R, L. and S. Wilberforee, Life of Wtibtrforct, iL 179.
a Lord George Germaine.

283

EDWARD GIBBON

his two bosom friends Sir John Irwin and General Cunning-
ham.' i

The rancour of a party pamphleteer is hardly evidence
of anything but itself. Such abuse was part of the price
Gibbon had to pay for maintaining himself in Bentinck
Street with his coach and liveries, and his stepmother
at Belvedere.

The peace of mind thus attained was not to remain
completely untroubled. The Government's position
was becoming increasingly precarious in the House
and in the country. A general election was in sight, and
the effects of an unsuccessful war, bad trade and rising
taxation were bound to alter the composition of the next
House. The strength and spirits of the Opposition were
already rising. An attack was launched which might
almost seem to be singling out Mr Gibbon.

Burke introduced his plans for an 'economical Re-
formation*. Useless offices and sinecures were to be
abolished, though the reformer is said to have excepted
the Clerkship of the Pells from the scheme because he
intended his son to have it. At any rate in March 1 780
a motion was carried by a narrow majority to abolish
the Board of Trade and Plantations.

Gibbon accepted the vote with tranquillity and im-
partially admired the enemy's eloquence with its not
unpleasing references to himself. Burke recognised the
part that the board had pkyed as an asylum of literary
men, and paid an ironic compliment to the 'historian's
labours, the wise and salutary results of deep religious
researches*. But Gibbon was confident that trie decision
would be reversed in the Lords, or that some other
provision would be made for htm. In fact, the proposed

* Observations on a pamphlet entitled "A Short History of the Opposition*
etc. 1779.

284

A LORD OF TRADE

reform was dropped and the Lords Commissioners
drew their salaries for another two years.

The approaching dissolution was another matter. Al-
though Eliot had allowed his cousin to be re-elected on
his appointment, he intimated that he would not support
him again. Gibbon replying in August ventured on an
appeal against what he termed a sentence of banishment
from his native country. Eliot had kept him in suspense,
but Gibbon did not claim that an earlier announcement
of this decision would have enabled him to secure
another seat. On leaving Liskeard, the 1200 which
Gibbon was to refund when Eliot's son came of age
would fall immediately due, and Gibbon warned his
cousin that owing to the failure to sell Lenborough he
would have to ask for some indulgence.

Eliot stood firm declaring that he too must be inde-
pendent in his choices. Since his cousin had attached
himself to Government he could trust them not to leave
so valuable a man 'sur le pav.' l Gibbon expostulated
with smooth irony. He defended his conduct on the
truth of one single assertion, that he had never renounced
any principle, deserted any connexion or violated any
promise. He had uniformly asserted the justice of the
American war. He had supported the Government ex-
cept in the crisis of Burgoyne's surrender. He had
agreed with Eliot in thinking that when the substance
of power was lost the name of independence might be
granted to the Americans. But both parties had rejected
the idea almost equally. He reminds Eliot that there
was no disgrace in sitting at the Board of Trade,
where Eliot himself had sat through several success-
ive governments, and Eliot had none of those
domestic reasons which might be alleged in his own
favour.

Gibbon was satisfied with this vent to his feelings, and

' Add. MSS. 34886, f. in.

285

EDWARD GIBBON

both sides agreed that there was no use in prolonging
the discussion. The cousins remained on the friendliest
terms for the remainder of the historian's life.

This letter was written in September, a week after the
dissolution of Parliament, and the day before Gibbon
had informed Holroyd that he had still hopes of con-
tinuing to breathe the pestiferous air of St. Stephen's
Chapel. On William Eden's advice he had made a
detailed statement of his situation to Lord North and
others, and made it clear that he could only contemplate
an almost gratuitous seat. He was informed that if he
was not immediately elected, he would be brought in at
one of the re-elections caused by those who had been
chosen for more than one constituency.

Parliament was necessary if Gibbon was to retain his
place, and his place was necessary if he was to remain
in England. But now he was expressing his weariness
and indifference to the life, and throwing out hints of
the sweet vision of Helvetic retirement. He watched
philosophically the impatience of some strong com-
petitors who pushed between him and the door. It
would seem that his friends' desire to keep him in the
House was stronger than his own, and some references
in letters convey the hint that he was still regarded as
having some political future. He was finally returned
for Lymington on a^th June 1781, in the room of
Mr Dummer deceased.

To a feverish crisis of the previous year belongs the
story of an encounter with Pitt, to which a good deal
of importance has been attributed. It cannot be true in
the form in which it has come down to us.

In June 1780 'the flames of London, which were
kindled by a mischievous madman, admonished all
thinking men of the danger of an appeal to the people'.

286

A LORD OF TRADE

Holroyd took a leading part in quelling Lord George
Gordon, and the Northumberland Militia with which he
was connected was quartered in Lincoln's Inn. Thirty-
eight years after the event Sir James Bland Surges
described a dinner party given for the officers, to which
among others Gibbon was invited. He gives what seems
an authentic enough account of the way in which
Gibbon dominated the conversation, allowing no inter-
change of ideas, but bewildering everyone with a flow
of anecdote and epigram on a confusing variety of
topics. Then, of course, the rapping on the famous box,
the signal that applause was due. But a deep-toned
clear voice broke in with a challenge. The disconcerted
raconteur found himself attacked and pressed so hard
by a tall thin ungainly young man called Mr Pitt, that
at last he rose and left the room. Burges found him.
outside looking for his hat: efforts to bring him back
were fruitless, and he went away although Holroyd also
came out to Burges's assistance. 1

The late J. M. Robertson was the first to challenge
this story. 2 He suspected it was a doublet on the story
of the Abb de Mably and Gibbon, conveniently turned
round. A somewhat similar picture is given of Buffon
by Marmontel, who says the great naturalist hated to
be contradicted by younger men and would politely
leave the room. 3 These stories in fact are all cast in a
mould whose popularity never flags for those who enjoy
seeing the expert caught out. Nor can it be denied that
elderly authorities are apt to resent contradiction. 4 But
Gibbon was only forty-three at this time and was admit-
tedly an accomplished man of the world who must be

i Sir James Bland Burges, Letters and Correspondence, pp. 59-61. The
passage is quoted at length in Prothero, ii. 28.

a L M. Robertson, Gibbon, pp. loS-io.

3 Marmontel, Mfmoires, ii. 14.

* There is perhaps also a suggestion of Bentley's *Walker, my hatT in Burges's
conclusion of the story.

287

EDWARD GIBBON

ready for all kinds of encounters. Robertson is no doubt
right in emphasising the improbability a priori of
Gibbon's behaving so childishly and in a way that is
inconsistent with all that we know of him. Yet a man
may lose his self-control once in a way.

But there is a more decided flaw in the story^which
Robertson has overlooked. He calls attention to
Gibbon's statement in 1782 that he had no connexion
with Pitt that does not necessarily exclude this alleged
encounter and to the cordial praise which he bestows
on the young statesman more than once. But he seems
to have forgotten that Sheffield explicitly states that in
1 793 Gibbon went to dine with Lord Loughborough to
meet various men, 'and particularly Mr. Pitt with whom
he was not acquainted'.

If the incident alleged by Surges were true, Sheffield
could hardly have forgotten it, and he could hardly have
had the face to assert that Gibbon and Pitt did not meet
till 1 793, when there must have been many contem-
poraries who might bring up an incident which was only
sixteen years old, and was not likely to have gone
unreported. Burges's story written some thirty-eight
years later cannot be regarded as a strong authority, and
Robertson gives another example to show that his regard
for truth was not of the strictest.

Nevertheless Burges must be granted his dinner party
and his picture of Gibbon the conversationalist, which
is by no means inconsistent with other accounts. Time
and malice have obscured the real events of the evening.
If nothing untoward happened, Sheffield and Gibbon
may have forgotten that Ktt was there.

In November of this year the active Holroyd was
rewarded with a barony in the peerage of Ireland and
took the nameof Sheffield, Gibbon was in the secret, and
when the honour was imminent, wrote to Mrs Holroyd
with mingled delight and humour:

288

A LORD OF TRADE

'Do you not fed some titillations of vanity? Yet I will do you
the justice to believe that they are as faint as can find place in a
female (you will retort, or a male) heart, on such an auspicious
event. When it is revealed to the Hon. Miss, I should recom-
mend the loss of some ounces of noble blood.'

While his political fortunes were in suspense, Gibbon
was at last, in his own phrase, delivered of twins in
February 1781.

The second and third volumes carried his History to
the end of the Empire in the West, and Gibbon's first
promise to his public was fulfilled. A sensation such as
had followed the first volume was not to be expected.
The edition went more slowly; there were some com-
plaints that the story was too prolix, a criticism to which
Gibbon to some extent agreed, but on the whole his
vanity was dexterous enough to interpret the different
reception favourably. If people were not reading
with the immediate avidity of five years before, they
were buying the volumes to consume at their leisure
during the summer in the country.

He had lent Walpole the second volume some months
before its appearance. But this time the device did not
prove successful. Gibbon was trapped into betraying
his annoyance at Walpole's coolness. Walpole perhaps
makes too good a story.

' You will be diverted to hear*, he wrote to Mason in January
1781, *that Mr. Gibbon has quarrelled with me. He lent me his
second volume in the middle of November. I returned it with
a most civil panegyric. He came for more incense; I gave it,
but alas!, with too much sincerity; I added, "Mr. Gibbon, I am
sorry you should have pitched on so disgusting a subject as the
Constantinopolitan History. There is so much of the Arians
and Eunomians and semi-Pelagians; and there is such a strange
contrast between Roman and Gothic manners, and so little
harmony between a Consul Sabinus and a Ricimer, Duke of the

289 u

EDWARD GIBBON

Palace, that though you have written the story as well as it
could be written, I fear few will have patience to read it." He
coloured; all his round features squeezed themselves into sharp
angles 5 he screwed up his button-mouth and rapping his snuff-
box, said, "It had never been put together before" so well, he
meant to add but gulped it. He meant so well certainly, for
Tillemont, whom he quotes in every page, has done the very
thing. I well knew his vanity, even about his ridiculous face
and person, but thought he had too much sense to avow it so
palpably.'

Even if Gibbon himself later admitted that he had
dived too deep in the mud of the Arian controversy, he
might well have expected Walpole to be a more discern-
ing critic than this. Indeed if 'the ingenious trifler'
gives his actual words, the author's annoyance is com-
prehensible.

The quarrel, if it can be so called, begun in November,
lasted into the next year. Mason received the news of
its termination.

'The lost sheep is foundj but I have more joy in one just
person than in ninety and nine sinners that do not repent; in
short the renegade Gibbon is returned to me after ten or eleven
weeks, and pleads having been five of them at Bath. I immedi-
ately forgave even his return.'

Fortunately for us the friendship was resumed. We
might have lost that exquisitely comic glimpse of
December 1781.

*I was diverted last night at Lady LucanV, Walpole tells Lady
Ossory; 'the moment I entered, she set me down to Whist with
Lady Bute and who do you think were the other partners?
The Archbishopess of Canterbury and Mr. Gibbon P

290

Chapter 21

'JB PARS'

1783

THE remainder of Gibbon's political career is quickly
told. Nine months after his re-entry into Parliament
Lord North's government came to an end, and Gibbon
was expecting his fate with resolution. The Lords of
Trade did not fall with the Government, but their fate
was settled by the revived progress of Burke's reforms,
and in May 1782 Gibbon received a circular letter from
Lord Shelburne to the effect that the Board of Trade
was to be suppressed, and his Majesty had no further
occasion for his services. He had held his office a little
less than three years.

With the loss of office Gibbon's seat in Parliament
had become useless. He continued to sit, fascinated by
the political marches and countermarches out of which
he could hope to get nothing. The economy reforms
had reduced the resources of patronage, while the num-
ber of aspirants was doubled*

The new prime minister, the Marquis of Rockingham,
died in July; and Gibbon prophesied truly enough that
if Lord Shelburne succeeded him, the Rockingham
Whigs would quarrel with him before Christinas.

'At all events I foresee much tumult and strong opposition
from which I should be very glad to extricate myself, by quitting
the H. of C. with honour and without loss.'

Gibbon was right. Fox resigned when Shelburne

291

EDWARD GIBBON

became prime minister, and in the autumn the battle of
the three parties was developing. 1 'From honour, grati-
tude and principle' Gibbon announced his loyalty to
Lord North, and early in February 1783 a first victory
over the Government was gained. The issue was not
long in doubt. Lord Shelburne resigned, and the
incredible was realised when Fox, whose political life
'had been mainly directed to the extinction of Lord
North', was sworn in side by side with him, the two
Secretaries of State under the leadership of the Duke of
Portland. Those who grow warm over Gibbon's minute
vacillations should first digest this coalition.

Gibbon tells his fortune in one sentence: *My vote
was counted in the day of battle, but I was overlooked
in the division of the spoil'. 2 There was not indeed
much to hope for. Promises were made of a seat at the
board of customs or excise. But the chance was vague;
incumbents often proved tough. Such an appointment
would have entailed leaving the House, no intolerable
matter, but also a constant attention to tedious business
which would have seriously retarded the historian's
work. Yet Gibbon could not bring himself to say that
he would refuse the offer. His affairs were still pre-
carious and he had his stepmother to consider. Another
post, more attractive but also more exacting, and at the
same time of most uncertain tenure, was the secretary-
ship to the embassy in Paris. In the end Anthony
Storer was appointed and Gibbon never knew that it
was through Fox's intervention Sheffield interpreted
it as an act of friendship that his claims were re-
jected.

A scrap of paper has survived in which Gibbon drily

* I>. Shelburne's, Lord North's, and the Rockingham Whigs with Fox.

Wedderburn now Lord Loughborongh, and his cousin William Eden
later Lord Auckland, with whom also Gibbon was friendly, took a consider-
able part behind the scenes in negotiating the coalition*

292

4 JE PARS'

tabulated the conflicting motives of history and the
world:

FOR

1. The credit of being distin-
guished and stopped by Gov-
ernment when I was leaving
England.

2. The salary of 1200 a year.

3. The society of Paris.

4. The desire of obliging a friend
in England.

5. The hope of a future provis-
ion for fife.

AGAINST

1. The renouncing a rational
and agreable scheme on the
point of execution.

2. The disappointing a friend at
Lausanne who expects me
with impatience.

3. Losing at least 1000 and
incurring many expences.

4. Giving up the leisure and
liberty for prosecuting my
history.

5. The engaging without ex-
perience perhaps without
talents in a scene of business
which I never liked.

6. Giving myself a Master at
least a principal of an un-
known perhaps an unami-
able character.

7. The perpetual danger of the
recall of the Ambassador or
the change of ministry. 1

Gibbon never showed himself more equable in temper
or more sincerely pleased with his way of life, than in
the months when it was becoming increasingly doomed.

While Lord North's government declined daily, the
Lord of Trade's interest appears more engaged by
Caplin's promotion to prime minister on Mrs Ford's
resigning her key basket. The administration was
strengthened by sending the housemaid to White's to
be made a good cook for private ordinary days.

Having ftdfilled his first promise with the fall of the
Western Empire, he took nearly a year's holiday in

' Add. MSS. 34882, f. 256.

EDWARD GIBBON

which he returned 'by a natural impulse' to Greek
literature, reading Homer, the historians, Attic drama
and 'many interesting dialogues of the Socratic school'.
After this relaxation an equally natural impulse led him
back to the satisfaction of the daily task, and before he
left England in 1783 he had almost finished his fourth
volume.

Three months of the summer of 1 78 1 had been spent
at Brighton Miss Elliot's Lodging, Cliff House. 1

'The air gives health spirits and a ravenous appetite. I walk
sufficiently morning and evening, lounge in the middle of the
day on the Steyne, booksellers' shops, etc. and by the help of a
pair of horses can make more distant excursions. The society
is good and easy. . . .*

Good and easy society he found everywhere; whether
dining, quite intrigued, with Loughborough and Mrs
Abington, or being teased by the ladies of Bath and
wondering whether it was proper to escort Mrs Hayley
to Lady Miller's literary salon a very Victorian age
really or spending sober evenings with the bookseller
Elmsley, a valued friend, or discussing poor Lady Di
with Burke and Sir Joshua in a window at Richmond.

In the autumn of 1782 he hired a villa at Hampton
Court from 'Single Speech' Hamilton.

'Every morning I walk a mile or more before breakfast, read
and write quantum suffirit, mount my chaise and visit in the
neighbourhood, accept some invitations and escape others, use
the Lucans as my daily bread, dine pleasantly at home or sociably
abroad, reserve for study an hour or two in the evening, lye in
town regularly once a week, etc. etc. etc**

The experiment succeeded so well that in 1783 he had
secured the house by May and was proposing 'every
week to steal away like a Citizen from Saturday to
Monday'.

1 Magd* CdL Paptrf.
294

ME PARS*

This could not last. Gibbon's signal devotion to North
when he was carried down to the House in flannels and
crutches to sit there till eight in the morning before the
coalition could get their slender majority, was not going
to be rewarded in a hurry, if at all. It was all very well
to joke about becoming dancing-master in the Prince of
Wales's new 100,000 establishment. 1 Something
must be obtained, and even Sheffield's active and ardent
spirit admitted that there was perplexity in his friend's
situation. Yet he may have been surprised, and was
certainly annoyed when he found that very soon he
would be asked to come 'Bentinckising' no more.

In May Gibbon wrote a long exploratory letter to
Deyverdun reciting his political rise and fall, and throw-
ing out with circumspection a reminder of their project,
formed so long ago, of living together. Deyverdun's
reply, equally long and judicious, surpassed all expecta-
tion. Not only had he not ceased to hope, but he had
the means now of carrying out their plan. He had
inherited his aunt's house La Grotte. It was too big for
himself and he had divided it and sublet part of it. That
would be available for Gibbon in the autumn.

Deyverdun is a shadowy although constant figure in
Gibbon's life. Only in the letters that were now ex-
changed is his voice heard with any clearness, and it is
certainly the voice of an eager yet prudent friend full of
understanding and solicitude. Where Sheffield and
others were still scheming to retain Gibbon in a life
to which he was so unsuited, Deyverdun could say
that he had always viewed the adventure with sus-
picion and regret. When Gibbon wrote rather weakly,
*Si je ne consultois que mon coeur et ma raison, je rom-
perois sur le champ cette indigne chaine', Deyverdun
replied sharply, 'Eh! que voulez-vous consulter, si ce
n'est votre cceur et votre raison?'

1 Auckland Correspondence, i. p. 531.

295

EDWARD GIBBON

The five letters indeed which were now exchanged are
a serene eclogue in which the two friends anticipate
their long-deferred union. Gibbon eagerly accepting
the delights, which Deyverdun depicts not without
warnings of what the passage of time has effected and
the contrast between London and the pastoral simplicity
of the Pays de Vaud. It would be a kind of marriage,
the contract of which they were settling agreeably, with
all the caution which two wary old bachelors could
bring to such an adventure, without detriment to their
genuine affection.

At last on the ist of July 1783 Gibbon wrote:

'Apr&s avoir pris ma r&olution, Phonneur, et ce qui vaut
encore mieux, Pamiti6, me d6fendent de vous laisser un moment
dans Fincertitude. JE PARS. Je vous en donne ma parole, et
comme je suis bien aise de me fortifier d'un nouveau lien, je
vous prie trfes s^rieuseinent de ne pas m'en dispenser. Ma pos-
session sans doute ne vaut pas ceUe de Julie; mais vous serez
plus inexorable que St. Preux.'

It remained to break the news at home. It was largely
Lord Sheffield's 'manly and vehement friendship 7 that
had held Gibbon so long in 'the narrow and dirty circle
of English polities'. Fearing a loss of temper on both
sides the fugitive wrote a long letter revealing at last his
IRREVOCABLE resolution; not however without the hedg-
ing suggestion that in four years' time, with a recovery
in his fortunes, he might return to a permanent and
independent establishment in England. Sheffield might
complain to Eden that Gibbon had baffled all arrange-
ments but had to admit that *of all circumstances the
most provoking is that he is right'. 1 He loyally under-
took yet another burden, the disposal of his friend's
seat.

Gibbon was much more apprehensive of wounding
his stepmother's tender attachment, and months after

1 Lord Sheffield to Wffliam Eden, 7th August 1733, op. cit+ L p. 56.
296

<JE PARS'

he was settled in Lausanne could tell her that conveying
his decision to her was one of the most painful struggles
of his life. She set herself indeed in flat opposition. The
more she considered his plan the less she liked it, and
made two unpalatable proposals somewhat bluntly:

*As the gout grows more frequent I think it might be a good
reason of your giving up all very expensive society, and if you
would give me a room in your house, I should live the retired
Life I long for. Two hundred a year would pay your house and
coach and with the remainder I should be very rich and happy.' *

It had been prudent to be committed with Deyverdun
beforehand. The motherly offer must be gently refused,
though perhaps it was neither very kind, nor quite true,
for Gibbon to reply that two hundred a year would
scarcely keep a coach. There was no farewell visit to
Bath. Mrs Gibbon did not feel she could bear it. But
she did not relax her anxiety, and in one last touch of
solicitude remarked that she heard that his new home
was in 'the most beautiful situation imaginable . . . but
the inside of the House may not be so comfortably pre-
pared as you are used to (for Mr. Deyverdun is a
rhilosopher)'.

Two months quickly passed in preparations. A
selected working library was shipped to Rouen. The
lease of Bentinck Street was resigned. Other things
were stored in Downing Street. Lady Sheffield might
use the musical clock there, but was asked not to take it
to Sheffield Place. The beloved house was left on the
i st of September, a date humbly attested by Mary Pitt's
washing bill with the instruction 'to be sent home
Thursday Lord Sheffield's Downing Street West-
minster'. 2

Gibbon had already taken farewell of the Holroyds in
Sussex and remembered the day as one of the most

1 Brit. Mus. 11907, dd. 25 (2). * Magd. ColL Papers.

297

EDWARD GIBBON

affecting of his life. Sheffelina was his dear friend, his
sister. An almost tearful situation had been relieved
by Maria's pertinent asking whether he intended to be
buried in Switzerland or England. The last days in
England were spent drearily alone in Downing Street.
No confirmatory letter had been received from Deyver-
dun. He might be dead ; anything might have happened.
At last, after waiting in vain for the Flanders mail to
bring ham his sailing orders. Gibbon decided to venture.
He left on the i5th of September, sailed from Dover
on the 1 7th and was driven into Boulogne instead of
Calais. On board with him were two Americans, Henry
Laurens, President of Congress, who had been in the
Tower since 1779, and Benjamin Thompson of Massa-
chusetts, an odd character known later as Count Rum-
ford.

From Boulogne Gibbon travelled smoothly across
France, conversing with Homer and Lord Clarendon,
often with Caplin 1 and Muff, his dog; and 'sometimes
with the French postillions of the above-mentioned
animals the least rational'. On the 27th of September
1783 he drove into Lausanne after an absence of
nineteen years and five months.

Deyverdun was alive and expectant. But the lazy
fellow had failed to discover that he could not get
possession of Gibbon's part of the house until the
following spring. Since his own part was too small,
the two friends hired an apartment for the winter, at
the end of the rue du Bourg, with access to their garden.
It was not a good beginning, but Gibbon, who knew his
Deyverdun, put up with the disappointment as a sage
should.

1 After a trial of Swiss life the dear inseparable Caplin' went homejablow
to Gibbon especially since consideration tor his servant had entered into his
hesitation before deckling to leave England.

298

Chapter 22

'FANNY LAUSANNE'
1783-1787

* JULIAN inviolably preserved for Athens that tender
J regard which seldom fails to arise in a liberal mind
from the recollection of the place where it has discovered
and exercised its growing powers/ * Gibbon clearly re-
veals his own long-cherished aspiration in these words,
and now that he had come back to his own Athens,
he only discovered new causes of gratitude. The one
regret was that he had not returned three, five or even
ten years earlier,

It had not been a moment too soon. In a few months
the ill-assorted Coalition came apart. His successful
rival, Storer, lost his place, and Gibbon could reflect how
desperate would have been his own outlook in the same
plight. Now he followed the political shifts with in-
creasing detachment; Pitt and Fox were becoming less
to him than Caesar and Pompey, and the country could
be ruled by boys for all he cared. He could forgive
Lord North's slight in letting him leave the country
without a word, and with recollections of his pleasant
companionship turn to framing the mellow compliment
with which he offered him the last three volumes. For
a while he could not bring himself to say he would
refuse a post if it came his way, and he thought he would
like to be minister at Berne. But in a while he was
resigned to the fact that there was no eagerness to recall

1 The Decline and Fall, c. xix, (2-395).
299

EDWARD GIBBON

him to mend his country's fortunes. 'Nor', he was
destined to write, 'is there perhaps a more exquisite
gratification than to revisit, in a conspicuous dignity,
the humble and laborious scenes of our youth/ I

In the prettiest and most obliging letters since those
of Paul of Tarsus, he delighted to twit his friends on
their mistaken prophecies. Far from being lost in a
dull provincial round, he found Lausanne a more cos-
mopolitan city than it had been twenty years or more
ago. Of the 40,000 English reputed to be travelling
on the Continent a large proportion divided the year
between Switzerland and the South. Gibbon can pro-
duce a string of fashionable names at any moment. The
adorable Lady Elizabeth Foster would come to consult
Tissot, and Gibbon spent some golden hours at her
bedside.

But there were more important people to stroll on his
Terrace; M. Mercier, author of the Tableau de Paris,
the Abb6 Raynal, whose Histoire des Indes was on the
Index, and a host of minor princes and royal bastards.
Against such visitors of every degree Lausanne wished
to parade the grand Gibbon, and he was a public
character expected to see and be seen.

How would his fortunes support the position? In a
normal year the expenses of moving had been heavy
he expected to reduce expenditure by three or four
hundred pounds, spending six or seven against over a
thousand a year in London. It was not that Lausanne
was so much cheaper; but the things that drained away
the money inexorably in London did not exist there. It
is the common and perpetual experience of the English
abroad. On the other side he was not by any means
free of worry. He had expected to get ^i 100 for his
seat in Parliament. But the end of the Coalition made
its value very precarious, and he would be lucky to get

1 The Decline and Fall, c. biii. (7-181).
300

'FANNY LAUSANNE'

j5OO. Then, although shortly after his departure
Sheffield succeeded at last in selling Lenborough,
Gibbon was woefully disappointed in the price, and
impatient for the money, for he had some long bills and
had also taken up some French annuities. On the other
hand he was confident that in two years he would be
returning with a manuscript worth at least 3000.
There were as well his expectations on the old ladies'
lives.

His references to this have been brought up against
him, and one might certainly wish that they were not so
frequent. Gibbon cannot be blamed for mentioning
these possibilities to his chancellor. There was no need
for him to pretend to an affection for Aunt Hester, and
he no doubt inherited his father's notion that she had
been too well endowed by his grandfather. Moreover,
the Saint had been so un-auntlike as to try to borrow
from her nephew, while, though on polite terms with
the little infidel, she had refused to enter his house.
Mrs Gibbon's case was different. She was almost un-
comfortably fond of him, and Gibbon proved his
affection for her in more than one way. If he traded on
her good nature for some years over the bond, he made
amends by his care of her interests later. To say that
he desired her end would be a gross slander, but he
might have left Holroyd to make any calculations on it
for himself. And since she did in fact survive her step-
son, the laugh of the world has been against him.

La Grotte is said to have stood on the site of a vault or
crypt belonging originally to the Franciscan convent of
which the church, S. Fran?ois, survives. It was a large
rambling house, dating in part from the sixteenth cen-
tury, with high sloping roofs, and stood at the head of
the old steep road to Ouchy, a little behind the position

301

EDWARD GIBBON

of the modern post-office. The grounds, all part of the
old conventual domain, extended from the Ouchy road
to the rue du Petit Chine.

* A Terrace, one hundred yards long, extends beyond the front
of the House, and leads to a close impenetrable snrubberyj and
from thence the circuit of a long and various walk, carries me
round a meadow and vineyard. The intervals afford abundant
suppljr of fruit and every sort of vegetables; and if you add that
this villa . . . touches the best and most sociable part of the
town, you will agree with me, that few persons, either princes
or philosophers, enjoy a more desirable residence. 5

Deyverdun had offered his friend an apartment of
eleven rooms, far more space than he could desire or
need. A different partition was made when they took
possession early in 1784. Gibbon had a bedroom and
dressing-room, a store-room and a library about the
same size as that in Bentinck Street, * with this difference
however, that instead of looking on a paved court
twelve feet square, I command a boundless prospect of
vale, mountain and water'. Deyverdun's kingdom was
not so large. The rest of the house was held in common.
*We have a very handsome winter apartment of four
rooms; and on the ground floor, two cool saloons for
the summer, with a sufficiency, or rather superfluity, of
offices, etc.'

Neither friend entered the other's rooms unannounced,
and the mornings were generally spent alone. Gibbon
rose at seven and was at work about eight. The two
men dined together at two, an early hour, but the latest
for which Gibbon could wait. The rest of the day
passed in various amusements. If they were alone they
read a book together, talked and played chess or
billiards. Deyverdun smoked; his friend was true to
snuff. Eleven o'clock generally saw the end of the day,
and Gibbon went to bed thinking of his friends sweating
in St. Stephen's Chapel.

302

'FANNY LAUSANNE'

They got on excellently, but found that two bachelors
who had lived long independently had to be mutually
forbearing, 'When the mask of form and ceremony is
laid aside, every moment in a family life has not the
sweetness of the honeymoon/ But Deyverdun's 'heart
and head were excellent' and Gibbon could now exercise
his 'propensity for happiness* with ease. It had been
something of a tour deforce in London, as he confesses
to Sheffield.

Deyverdun was an assiduous gardener, and under his
guidance Gibbon, whose considerable eye for landscape
had nevertheless seldom seen the trees for the woods,
began to

'dwell with pleasure on the shape and colour of the leaves, the
various hues of the blossoms, and the successive progress of
vegetation. These pleasures are not without cares 5 and there is
a white Acacia just under the windows of my library which in
my opinion was too closely pruned last Autumn, and whose
recovery is the daily subject of anxiety and conversation!'

It is almost the voice of Cowper.

He had never spent so much time in the open air nor
probably walked so much, paying visits on foot through
the mountainous streets, wrapped in a fur cloak as the
winter advanced. He had not been so well for years,
and had an extraordinary appetite. He ate a good
breakfast, and was observed to dine and sup copiously
with large cups of coffee after each meal. The most
exact punctuality was required of guests 'sans quoi Ton
&ait accueilli de fort mauvaise grsice'. 1

At first a pleasing contrast was recognised between
the simple style of Swiss living and the English dinner
with its prolonged sitting over the bottles. But Deyver-
dun was an epicure and under his direction a course of
good living was set which was destined to carry away

1 Baflly de Lalonde, Le Lemon ou voyage pittoresque, etc., L 277 sqq. Le doyen
BrideTs recollections.

303

EDWARD GIBBON

himself first in *a series of apoplectic fits', and to under-
mine his friend's constitution more insidiously.

In the spring of 1785 the old enemy, believed to have
been left behind in a damper climate, descended with
unexampled vigour. Gibbon was chained to his library
and his great chair. But no work was done for three
months. Madeira was exchanged for milk, and even
at parties Gibbon sat down to his simple basin, not
without enjoying the pathetic distinction. His Swiss
friends were anxious and assiduous in their attentions,
and Gibbon could not but contrast the old days of
lonely indisposition in London, when to get Peter
Elmsley to come and see him was as much as he could
hope for.

With his ailments and his bulk there became noticeable
that protuberance which Gibbon so oddly fancied for
years had passed unobserved. It now excited some
concern among his new friends. Perhaps they ventured
on interfering where his older friends knew it was
hopeless.

'Between ourselves*, Jean Huber wrote to Salomon de Svery,
'Mathieu has told me that M. Gibbon has undoubtedly a hydro-
cde which tapping would remove at once for six months, with
a chance of its returning, but that he is so much afraid of tapping
that it is impossible to speak to him about it. Would it not be
possible to persuade him through his valet?* 1

'Health is the first consideration* was a favourite
dictum of Gibbon. But the only part of his body that
he treated respectfully was his sight. Far back in his
militia days he had consulted a doctor on the first
symptoms of what his friends were now noticing with
concern, and at some time he ruptured himsel Yet

1 M . et Mme de S&uety, iL 5. The letter is undated, but Huber died in 1786.
Mme de Story told the writer Mathieu had the reputation of an eager
surgeon.

304

'FANNY LAUSANNE'

lie would persistently assert, what lie hoped rather than
knew to be true, that he was in excellent health.

The company of distinguished people was flattering
and stimulating : *y et I am still more content with the
humble natives, than with most of these illustrious names'*
Midway came the Neckers who were neighbours for a
while at Beaulieu. 1 Necker now fallen from greatness
purchased the estate of Coppet. Their daughter was
now eighteen, one of the great heiresses of Europe
'wild, vain but good-natured, and with a much larger
provision of wit than beauty*. Mme Necker was in
failing health and when she left for the south of France
in 1784 Gibbon did not expect to see her again.

But a new and very close friendship grew up in these
years with Salomon de Charrtere de S6very, and his
wife whom Gibbon had known slightly in her girlhood
as Catherine de Chandieu. They belonged to that
highest circle of the rue du Bourg which Gibbon had
scarcely penetrated in his roving days. Now they
offered him a welcome union of easy intelligence and
unaffected simplicity. The day's work done, Gibbon
preferred to unbend over shilling whist or not too
vigorous conversation. In arranging their informal
entertainments notes would come across from ' Jardinier
Georges et Philosophe Gibbon'. They were also known
in one of these circles as 'La Plui^' and 'Neptune'. 2
The family still preserve many of these playful effusions.
*M. Gibbon fennera aujourd'hui sa boutique k sept
heures et le rest du jour sera tout pour Zaire' must
belong to the last clays of intensive labour on his
History.

Gibbon was also drawn into a jaiiore precious side
of local society. The Samedis of Mme de CharriSre-

1 A country house then on the outskirts of r-anannn* ^^ b ouse gtfli stands
near the Place d'Armes,
* M. et Mme de Severy, vol. L

30,5 *

EDWARD GIBBON

Bavois shone among these little societies for which the
Lausannois had an undying zest. Candidates must
present some jeu cT esprit in prose or verse and the
Abbesse invested them with a white cloak and swore
them to fidelity, chastity and poverty! The evenings
passed in charades, plays and detached discussions of a
kind which, it is said, lets us understand why in the
Pays de Vaud the Revolution caused more wine than
blood to flow. Gibbon praised these Samedis, but young
Benjamin Constant when bored with Brunswick com-
pared 'le climat' to them. 1

Lausanne society was predominantly feminine. Gibbon
avowed that the French and Swiss women were superior
to the men. There is nothing surprising if his ready
susceptibilities were aroused. There were half a dozen
ladies, he confides to Lady Sheffield, who would please
in one useful or ornamental way and another, and could
all their qualities be united in one person, he should
pay his addresses and dare to be refused. Maria
Holroyd need not have sneered that Mr Gibbon never
seemed to consider the possibility of rejection. It may
be believed that an Eve would have been ready to fill
the one obvious gap in the paradise of La Grotte. But
when it came to the point, each Adam seemed anxious
that the other should make the necessary sacrifice. One
strong attraction there was which lasted for more than
a year. Maria like everyone else knew of it. She clearly
was unaware of the scandalous accretions to the story.
Jeanne Pauline Polier de Bottens was a daughter of
the minister who had examined Gibbon on his return

1 H. Perrochon, Une Fetnme d* esprit Mme de Charriere-B&uois, passim^ for
Gibbon and the Samedis, vutev. 20. For a reading from his works at one of
these meetings, vide Achard, XMatte de Constant, u. 60. Mme de Charriere
Bavois must not be confbsed -with Mme de Charriere, BoswelTs Zelide, who
had but a slight acquaintance with the historian, and preferred Geneva to
Lausanne as more serious. In one of her talcs she writes caustically of Tamour
a la Gibbon'.

'FANNY LAUSANNE'

to Protestanism. At that time she was a little child.
She had married Benjamin de Crousaz de M6zery and
was left a widow in 1 775 at the age of twenty-four.
Three years later she had eloped with Lord Galloway;
but the match had been frustrated by the young noble-
man's tutor. This event seems symbolic of a sickly
romanticism which pervades her voluminous works.
The widow turned her energies to composing novels in
the vein of current German sentimentality. Her portrait
shows a pretty woman with piercing vivacious eyes,
undoubtedly attractive and far more piquante than her
books. Gibbon compared her to Lady Elizabeth Foster
and she is meant for the ideal mistress-wife in his list. 1

It was natural and charming that she should take the
two literary gentlemen of La Grotte into her confidence
about her work. Caroline de Lichtfeld is unreadable
to-day. But Maria Holroyd thought it the best of its
kind far away, and said that it owed much to Gibbon's
finishing tpuches. Gibbon at least was pleased to say
that he anil Deyverdun had been judges and patrons.
Deyverdun seems to have gone further, and by showing
the manuscript about, to have forced the lady into
publication. The book appeared in 1786 and in the
same year the authoress became Mme de Montolieu.
Gibbon told the Sheffields of both achievements, adding
that he had been in some danger. He did not dissemble
that. " It is incredible that he had anything else to
conceal.

The story that Gibbon knelt to make a declaration to
this lady, and being unable to rise unaided had to wait
while she rang for a footman, originates from Mme
de Genlis. By calling her Mme de Crousaz, Mme de
Genlis places her tale before 1786. She was well
acquainted with both Gibbon and the lady and may
have felt it was time to do them an ill turn, for Gibbon

1 Protfaro, iL 119.

307

EDWARD GIBBON

had neglected to answer her letters years ago 1 and
Mme de Montolieu had taken her in when she arrived
from France in 1793 destitute. 2

Anyone might judge the value of the story by com-
paring another told by Madame de Genlis almost in the
same breath. When the Abb6 Chauvelin made un-
welcome love to Mme de Nantouillet, she rang for her
footman, who placed the abb6, a small deformed man,
on the mantelpiece. Just then opportunely a visitor
was announced. 3

This is altogether too much of a good thing. The
untimely lover being put in his place is perhaps a stock
theme of eighteenth-century gallantry. The caricature
of Voltaire prostrate before Mile Clairon may well have
aided Mme de Genlis' genius. Mme de Montolieu's
emphatic denials of any occurrence might not necessarily
be convincing. 4 But it would hardly be worth while to
labour the impossibility of the story to those who
appreciate Gibbon's circumspect character, nor to follow
up the variations including a number of different ladies
about whom it has often been told. The name of one
of them, Lady Elizabeth Foster, an obvious bait for
English tatlers, leads us to the origin of this scandal.

Gibbon did in fact kneel to a lady, and tells us the
story himself. 5 He naturally gives no hint that he had
any difficulty in rising again. He may well have had,
for it was in 1 792 when he was very fat and infirm. Six
years before he had been by his own standards more
active.

He knelt to the Duchess of Devonshire Lady Eliza-

1 Misc. Wk$* ii. 304.

2 Achard, op. cit. ii. 161. She also claimed to have helped with Caroline de
Lichtfeld.

a Conan d'Arelon, Gen&uma (Paris, 1820), pp. 132-5.
* Rrvue Smsse, 1839, pp. 603 sqq.

s Gibbons to W, de Severy, 12 Oct. 1792, translated in Meredith
P-497

308

'FANNY LAUSANNE*

beth was there and received the accolade as proxy for
his young friend Wilhelm de Svery whom the duchess
was receiving into her own order of chivalry. It was
but one of those rather anaemic parlour diversions
which seemed to breed so naturally then in the Swiss
air and gave people something to chat and laugh about.
But the incident strikes at the other story in two ways.
It is a very obvious source, and Mme de Genlis no
doubt picked it up for her own purpose when she
arrived a refugee a year later. Secondly, if the first
incident were true it would be very unlikely that Gibbon
would care either to remind people of it by a parallel, or
to risk another ignominious resurrection.

The only value of the story is to illustrate with what
weapons and with what persistency it has been thought
profitable to ridicule Gibbon. From Mme de Genlis
too comes that other story of Mme du Deffand in her
blindness running her hands over Gibbon's protuberant
face, and then protesting that a trick in the worst taste
had been played on her.

At the end of two years Gibbon could protest that his
passion for his wife, or mistress (Fanny Lausanne), was
not palled by satiety or possession.

*I have seen her in all seasons and humours and though she is
not without faults, they are infinitely overbalanced by her good
qualities. Her face is not handsome, but her person, and every-
thing about her, has admirable grace and beauty: she is of a very
chearful, sociable tempers without much learning she is en-
dowed with taste and good sense; and though not rich, the
simplicity of her education makes her a very good economist;
she is forbid by her parents to wear any expensive finery; and
though her limbs are not much calculated for walking, she has
not yet asked me to keep her a Coach.'

From time to time promises were thrown out of a
return to England with his completed manuscript:

*But let no man who builds a house, or writes a book, presume

309

EDWARD GIBBON

to say when he will have finished. When he imagines that he is
drawing near to his journey's end, Alps rise on Alps and he
continually finds something to add and something to correct.*

The autumn of 1786 had been named, and then June
or July of the next year, as the date of his return. But
in the beginning of 1787 the historian realised that
unless he doubled his diligence another year would pass
away. So he undertook 'a bold and meritorious resolu-
tion'. The evenings were added to the mornings' work,
cards and society were renounced. He refused 'the
most agreeable evenings' or perhaps appeared only at a
late supper, doubtless to be greeted with enthusiasm as
a martyr to learning.

On 2nd June 1787 he tells Lord Sheffield, 'My great
building is, as it were, compleated, and some slight
ornaments, the painting and glazing of the last finished
rooms, may be dispatched without inconvenience in the
autumnal residence of Sheffield Place', and on the 2ist
July he writes to say that his departure has been post-
poned *the march of heavy bodies, such as armies and
historians, can seldom be foreseen or fixed to a precise
day' but he promised to be in London on or before
the 9th of August.

He does not give an inkling of the emotion felt on a
night of the previous month, an emotion which did not
cease to vibrate within himself until it reached expression
in what must be one of those passages of pure poetry;
for anyone who can read it even now without a thrill is
to be gravely pitied.

The famous summer-house has long since disappeared
along with the acacias from which Byron plucked a
memento. Sightseers took the original away bit by bit
and even the restored parts went as well. It was allowed
to fall into decay, and at last even doubt arose about the
exact site, so that it has been confused with a part of
La Grotte itself that opened on the terrace. But it lay,

310

'FANNY LAUSANNE'

as seems certain, some hundred yards from the house
near the rue du Petit ChSne, and anyone who cares to
look out on the unchanging lake and mountains from
a small platform on that side of the post-office, can have
the satisfaction of knowing he is not far from the spot.
'I have presumed to mark the moment of conception/
Biography; 'I shall now com-

Gibbon wrote in i
memorate the hour of my final deliverance. It was on
the day, or rather the 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 berceau or covered walk of Acacias, which commands
a prospect of the country, the lake and the mountains.
Tne 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 the 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 my 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.'

'ADELPHI HOTEL, August the 8#, 1787

'Intelligence extraordinary. This day (August the yth) the
celebrated E. G. arrived in the Addphi with a numerous retinue
(one Servant). We hear that he has brought over fromLausanne
the remainder of his history for immediate publication.' l

1 Gibbon to Lord Sheffield, Prothero, ii. p. 157.

Chapter 23

THE HOUR OF TRIUMPH

1787-1788

THE business of the final touches and the proofs con-
sumed the autumn, partly in lodgings in London,
partly at Sheffield Place. Publication was at first expected
in April and then fixed for the 8th May 1788, the his-
torian's birthday. An agreement of i6th August with
Andrew Strahan and Thomas Cadell secured to Gibbon
4000 for his three volumes; 500 to be paid on
executing the deed, 1750 within four months of pub-
lication and 1750 within twelve months.

Pleased with his friend's company, Lord Sheffield per-
haps accepted his own valuation of his health. Triumph
was near and spirits were high. Mrs Gibbon was in-
formed that the historian had never seemed so well nor
ate so well, though certainly he was more enormous.
A detailed report to Deyverdun is more ominous.

'He amuses himself with the notion that he is not grown
fetter, but he appears to me greatly increased in bulk. I was
forced to threaten him yesterday that if he would not do as he
was bid, we should be obliged to lay him on his back that like
the turtle he may not be able to get up. Considering the little
exercise he uses, I think he indulges too much with oysters,
mflk etc. at supper. Two breakfasts are never omitted and at
dinner he seems to me to devour much more than he used to do.
But he is most provoking on the subject of future residence. He
has no view but towards Switzerland.* *

* Letter of 4th November 1787, from the MS. in the possession of Mme
Gzenier-Brandebourg.

312

THE HOUR OF TRIUMPH

In November Gibbon returned to London, attended
one meeting of the Club, now relieved for ever of
Johnson's presence, 1 visited Sir Joshua and was pro-
posed by him to be Professor of Antient History in the
Koyal Academy in the place of the late Dr. Franklin. 2

He was preparing to visit Bath, when the gout which
he believed to have drowned in Switzerland at the
bottom of a cup of milk, descended on him and kept
him prisoner in London till December. Christmas was
spent at Bath with Sheffield and his elder daughter to
support him. Gibbon, who was probably still far from
well, appears to have been bored, and the trio planned a
premature escape. Early in January they returned to
Sheffield Place, where Gibbon could recuperate at his
ease and await his final triumph.

During these months Gibbon appears through a fresh
pair of eyes. After not a little coaxing he had persuaded
M. and Mme de Svery to allow their son to follow him
to England. He was to learn English there and see
something of society, and it would not come amiss that
someone from Lausanne should be there to see the
grand Gibbon introducing his three youngest children
to the world. Wilhelm landed at Dover in October and
was sent first to a family at Uckfield to learn English
in preparation for accompanying his friend into the
world. In his letters home and in his brief diary we
have the most closely knit record of Gibbon's day-to-
day contacts in society. He is tantalisingly silent on

1 Possibly that of 26th November at which Reynolds showed Boswell a
letter he had written to the Prince of Wales to get Dr. Warton appointed to
St. Cross. It was a tricky business, and Boswell considered Reynolds had
done it 'exquisitely well'. Reynolds had shown the letter only to Lord Ayles-
bury and Gibbon. Bos<wett JPapers, rvii. 57.

F. W. Hflles, Letters of Reynolds, p. 181, letter to Bennet Langton, 23rd
November 1787. Gibbon's letter of acceptance preserved at the Royal
Academy is dated 4th April 1788. The professors of history and literature
gave no lectures. Gibbon was much annoyed later to find that he had to pay
a fee of 25 guineas for this empty honour.

313

EDWARD GIBBON

some points, and yet the picture gains from being un-
studied and not a shadowing of the great historian. 1

At Sheffield Place we see Gibbon spending two hours
in talk with Lady Sheffield every morning and in the
evenings making Wilhelm and the girls read a French
play, Zaire once more, that familiar old drama at which
Suzanne Curchod had been caught out pretending to
cry. When Gibbon was away he cautioned Sheffield
about letting Wilhelm get into bad company at Lewes
'a set of drunken dragoons' * and when he returned
Wilhelm notes *une charmante journ^e', and thereafter
mentions long conversations with him.

In March it was time to move on London. Gibbon
and the Sheffields were at Downing Street, the young
man in rooms. The whole family went to Drury Lane
to see Mrs Siddons and Kemble in Jane Shore. They
all floated down to Woolwich and back again on the
tide to see the Prince^ 98 guns, which was to be launched
in June. Gibbon took his charge with him on visits to
North and Loughborough, to Sir Joshua's studio where
Sheffield was sitting, and to dine with him, to evenings
with the Miss Berrys, to theatricals at the Duchess of
Richmond's, to hear Texier, to the Academy Banquet,
with Lord Ossory to see some fireworks, to a review at
Wimbledon and to dine with Sir Willoughby Aston, an
old militiaman. Wilhelm was fairly launched in London
society and no doubt Gibbon was present at many of
the parties and balls.

Sheffield gave dinners, at one of which were Fox,
Burke and North; at another, in honour of Calonne the
fallen French Director-General of Finance, were North
and his son, Stonnont, Loughborough and others.

1 Af. ft Mme de S*otiy 9 . 73-97, for his letters. M.de S^very very kindly
allowed me to make use of the diary, which remains unpublished.
* Nevertheless de S6very went to the ball at Lewes and supped with Sir John

314

THE HOUR OF TRIUMPH

Dinner began at six and they sat till eleven; an ordeal
for a young man however august the company. Yet it
is no mean compliment that this youth testifies to
Gibbon's success and spirits as he dined out night after
night. 'II a le talent de se renouveler, il est toujours
amusant.' Once at least he was rewarded with some
unexpected comedy; it was at a dinner at which the
Chevalier cTEon was present, all the other guests being
men. The Chevalier who managed his fan like a sword
persisted in addressing the historian as Gibson.

The story of Gibbon's encounter with one of the royal
dukes rests on good contemporary authority, though
there is more than one version. Perhaps the best is as
follows. Gibbon was at one of the Duchess of Cumber-
land's evenings Wilhelm certainly mentions playing
pharaon there when someone told the Duke that he
ought to say a word to the great historian. 'So/ said he,
greeting his guest, 'I suppose you are at the old trade
again scribble scribble scribble!' Nothing is recorded
of Gibbon's round-eyed astonishment. He could hardly
complain. He had said some hard things of royalty. 1

Some of Wilhelm's sightseeing was entrusted to other
friends. But Gibbon took him to see the pictures and
the Queen's Library at Buckingham Palace fifty
thousand volumes. 'You used to think I had many
books,* said Gibbon, 'but you see the King has far
more/ 'Yes/ replied the excellent young man. 'He has

1 Miss Sayer to Mme Huber in 1789, Auckland Correspondence, ii. 280-81.
The Rev. Henry Best in his Personal and Literary Memorials, 1829, p. 68,
says it was Gloucester. He says Gibbon had presented his first volume to
him. This looks Hfo> a confusion with the presentation to the Duke of York
in 1763. The clergyman goes on with a very spiteful commentary on the
scene in which he ingenuously lauds the Duke for his behaviour. There is
another version. Lady Katherine North attributes the remark to the King,
who, instead of his stock question *Do you walk, do you get out?' (once uttered
to Burke who had just resigned office!)* said to the historian 'How do you
do, Mr. Gibbon? Always scribble scribble, I suppose.* The authority at any
rate is better than Best's. The Glenbervie Journals, p. 195.

315

EDWARD GIBBON

more than you but has he read them?' One almost hears
the box rapped with satisfaction.

Gibbon also came under Boswell's eye once more. 1
He attended seven more meetings of the Club during
this year and met the old enemy at least twice at Sir
Joshua's. At the meeting of 22nd January Boswell
notes that Fox attended after an absence of some years.
Others present besides Gibbon were Bunbury, Malone,
Steevens, Warton and Langton. On the 1 9th February
Boswell presided over Gibbon, Malone, Steevens,
Banks, Lucan and Macartney, and later Windham.
But he went home about ten sober and well.

On Friday nth April Boswell dined at Sir Joshua's
with Monboddo, Malone, Gibbon, Langton and others.
Talk ran on the old dispute about ancients and moderns.
Brocklesby said that in a thousand years Burke would
be more admired than Demosthenes. Malone and
Boswell tried to draw Monboddo, who was 'wildly dog-
matical* on the side of the ancients. Boswell argued
that a priori all things that did not involve a contradiction
were equally probable; therefore belief in them must
depend on evidence. He was trying to draw Gibbon,
who, however, sat snug and would not venture.

Three days later Boswell was called in at the last
moment to take Sheridan's place and met Burke and
his wife, Dr. Parr, Gibbon, Sir Gilbert Elliot, Windham
and others. The great Dr. Parr announced that he was
about to write on Johnson and had found forty points
of similarity between him and Plutarch, Upon Burke's
saying Plutarch was the only ancient writer who could
be read with pleasure in a translation, Gibbon suggested
Melmoth's version of Pliny's Letters, which he con-
sidered better than the original. Burke agreed. After
dinner the Burkes with Windham, Jack Lee, Gibbon
and Boswell went upstairs to tea with Miss Reynolds.

1 Bosvoell Papers, xvii. 67, 68, 92 and 94-5.

316

THE HOUR OF TRIUMPH

Gibbon made Burke give the story of the Coalition's
fall. Boswell felt that he was laughing, although out-
wardly serious.

Along with all these social successes and the prestige
enjoyed at the Club comes a brief but memorable
acquaintance. One of the greatest of all scholars had
championed one of his conclusions, and in the Letters
to Archdeacon Trains Gibbon himself recognised 'the
most acute and accurate piece of criticism since the days
of Bentley'. Porson was asked to call, and we have from
his memory very likely the most exact report of Gibbon's
spoken words:

'Mr. Porson,' he said, *I feel truly indebted to you for the
Letters to Travis, though I must think that occasionally, while
praising me, you have mingled a little acid with the sweet. If
ever you should take the trouble to read my History over again,
I should be much obliged and honoured by any remarks on it
which might suggest themselves to you.*

Porson, it is said, was much flattered with this inter-
view and loved to talk of it. He thought The Decline and
Fall beyond all comparison the greatest literary pro-
duction of the eighteenth century and was in the habit
of repeating long passages from it. This is worth
remembering beside his more widely quoted criticisms
of Gibbon's style and bias. 1

But what of the day of days when the double festival,
the publication and the author's fifty-first birthday, 'was
celebrated by a chearful litterary dinner at CadelPs house
and I seemed to blush while they read an elegant com-
pliment from Mr. Hayley'? Alas! a young man whose
mind ran on dancing at Lady Mary Duncan's, or trips
to Greenwich with Lady Clarges, puts the matter in a
different perspective.

'Jeudy 8. crit tout le matin, rang6 mes affaires dans ma
chambre, puis al!6 din6 chez le libraire de Mr. Gibbon, Mr.
1 Porsomana in Rogers'* Table Talk, p. 324*

317

EDWARD GIBBON

Cadell, puis al!6 de & k Topera dans la loge de Mad. Boone,
revenu la maison.*

The grand climax was over. A magnificent epilogue
remained; that I3th June when four hundred people
were waiting outside Westminster Hall at seven in the
morning, and tickets were changing hands at fifty
guineas for a chance of hearing Sheridan on the Begums
of Oudh. He spoke from midday till nearly five, and
remarked in the course of his speech, 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'. Thus saluted in his own presence and
in the presence of the flower of the nation, Gibbon may
well have been vain, and Sheridan may have tried to
tone him down afterwards by saying he meant Volumi-
nous*. But there is no real doubt that Sheridan did pay
this tremendous compliment. 1

After that there was little to do but pack and go. A
new carriage had been bought, and sets of Wedgwood
chosen busts of Voltaire and Rousseau were to be got
if they matched! and de S^very's dogs were sent on
in a basket. 2 Gibbon had dined with Warren Hastings
and the Prince of Wales, 'both by special desire'. The
last days were spent at Sheffield Place, where many
people were invited to see the historian. Sir Joseph
Banks and his family spent several days there with him,
and Nichols the anecdotist.

The Sheffields and others had to acknowledge the
inevitable. Their friend was now firmly wedded to
'Fanny Lausanne 1 . He was as attached as a child to his
garden and summer-house and had brought over a plan
to show his friends. He talked of his lake and his view
and his compatriots the Swiss. In a letter to Mme de
Svery written in the height of his success he tells her

1 Fraaer Rae> Sheridan, ii. 69,
a Embarqu* mes chers chiens k soir dans kur panier. W. de S&ery's MS.

318

EDWARD GIBBON

From a Wedgwood Plaque

THE HOUR OF TRIUMPH

he is always thinking of their dinners in the plaque*
their games of firicet in the green salon and his covered
walk of acacias. Someone asked him how many people
there were in Lausanne. He said there might be nine or
ten thousand; but the essential thing was a society of
two hundred persons as good as one could desire. On
the eve of their journey Wilhelm noted that he was
buoyed up 'par Tid6e de revoir son home car c'est ainsi
qu'il Pappelle toujours'.

Poor Mrs Gibbon, growing stouter and feebler, alone
was unreconciled. She snatched at an idle rumour which
if true might lead to a breaking of the chain.

*I will not say another word about the leave you seem to be
taking of this Island but that wherever you go and wherever

you are, my dearest and kindest wishes will ever attend you

A Lady mend of mine who attended the trials tells me Mr.
Sheridan made you blush. She also tells me you are going to be
married for she says your curiosity is so great that having pur-
sued it thro* every state of human knowledge you have nothing
else to be instructed in, and she is sure the leisure you promise
yourself will be employed in seeking and finding the Land of
Matrimony and I wish she was your partner. . . .' *

How curiously gossips will transpose a man's mind
and impulse into their own key.

On the igth July Gibbon and de S^very, with Lord
and Lady Sheffield, went to stay with Lord North at
Tunbridge Wells. The travellers left for Dover on the
2 ist, taking leave 'avec beaucoup de peine*. Lausanne
was reached on the 3Oth and Gibbon announced, *I am
as well arranged, as if I had never stirred from this
place*. But Deyverdun's health was obviously failing.

1 A room heated from the back of the stove of an adjoining room.
* Brit. Mus. 1 1907, dd. 25 (2). Letter of July 1788 in answer to Gibbon's
of 29th June and replied to by him i8th July 5 Protforv, ii. 174 and 175.

319

Chapter 24

THE LUMINOUS HISTORIAN

BY universal assent The 'Decline and Fall had set
Gibbon 'at the very head of the whole literary tribe at
present existing in Europe'. 1 Robertson voluntarily
renounced any claims to primacy. 'Before you began
your historic career, I used to pride myself in being at
least the most industrious historian of the age; but now,
alas! I can pretend no longer even to that praise/

The deliberate ambition of Gibbon's youth had been
surpassed. He had once looked up to Robertson and
Hume as almost inaccessible peaks. Now he stood
above them and had been acclaimed by both. There
was certainly some excuse for being vain.

It was said that Gibbon came to believe at last that he
was the Roman Empire. The jest veils a true compli-
ment, so completely was he immersed, yet not lost, in
his subject. Moreover, and it is the triumph of imagina-
tive art, he carries his reader into it with him. It may
not be easy to fix the sources of such an impression. It
depends in part on simple devices. Gibbon always
speaks from Rome or Constantinople and defines
'beyond the Alps, the Rhine, the Danube, etc.', accord-
ingly. 2 He makes no exceptions. The British in
India are described as Vcompany of Christian merchants

1 For Adam Smith's letter see Misc. Wks. ii. 429, and Robertson's, ibid. ii.
416 and 424.

* Postscript to the preface of the fourth volume.

320

THE LUMINOUS HISTORIAN

of a remote island in the Northern ocean'. 1 The reader
insensibly surrenders; he surrenders still more to the
pervading dream of antiquity in which the author
moves.

'Our early studies', Gibbon says, 'allow us to sym-
pathise in the feelings of a Roman.' 2 The most sceptical
of men has no doubt either of the supremacy of the
classical authors or of his own complete intimacy with
their spirit. It was no sentimental enthusiasm.

Nor could it have been merely vanity that sent him
with undefeated energy down what Bywater, I think,
calls the dusty corridors of learning. They were very
dusty and encumbered in those days. This knowledge
he reconstructed in a solid world of space and time, in
which he moves to and fro at his ease, but always with
a sense of inexorable progress towards its end. By
numberless touches the whole story seems to be his
intimate concern. He tells us the limits of his personal
acquaintance with the Bishop of Hippo. He takes a
courteous leave of Ammianus, 'the last subject of Rome
who composed a profane history in the Latin language',
and warns us that henceforward he must advance amid
fragmentary and prejudiced authorities, 'with doubtful
and timorous steps'. 3

The calamities of human affairs may recur, though not
always with a Tacitus to depict them. A feature indeed
of such times is the inconceivability of a Tacitus existing
in them at all. The peaks of civilisation, on the other
hand, are those ages in which political freedom, all the
manly virtues and literary excellence occur together as
though with some essential connexion. The periods
which Gibbon chose had in the main for him, only the
negative value of contrast with that ideal. Whenever
he pauses to survey the road he has traversed, there is

* The Decline and Folly c. her. (8-66). 3 Op. cit. c. Led. n. 3.

3 Op. crt. c. xrvi. (3-346) and nn. 91 and 114.

321 Y

EDWARD GIBBON

only one method of valuation. After the growth of
superstition in the fourth century has called forth all
his wit, he adds :

'If it be possible to measure the interval between the philo-
sophic writings of Cicero and the sacred legend of Theodoret,
between the character of Cato and that of Simeon, we may
appreciate the memorable revolution which was accomplished
in the Roman empire within a period of five hundred years.' x

By pinning his faith to one standard, Gibbon becomes
at times as much involved in the consequent notion of
degeneration as some modern optimists have been in
the idea of progress. He sometimes forgets that brave
men have lived since Agamemnon, and his picture of
the decay of military virtue in the provinces does not
explain the success of the barbarians. Sometimes he
tries to have it both ways, as when he accuses Christianity
of inculcating pusillanimity, and at the same time never
fails to record a fighting bishop. Nevertheless his claim
to have recounted the triumph of barbarism and re-
ligion is not to be denied. He showed that they were
inseparably connected with each other and with the
passing of the ancient world, and he opened a debate
which shows no sign of terminating.

A disregard for Gibbon's values has led to an unfair
severity towards some parts of his work. It is true that
he treats the Byzantine period summarily and at times
unjustly. Nevertheless it is improbable that he would
find any reason to revise his judgment or alter his pro-
portions. In his view, the decline of Constantinople was
almost coeval with her foundation. 2 He was well aware
of the city's function as 'the most important barrier of the
West'. 3 He does not dispute 'the long prosperity of the
Byzantine Caesars', 4 and in his 53rd chapter he gives an
admirable sketch of Byzantine civilisation, especially in

1 The J>ctine and Fall, c. JcccviL (4--322). a Op. cit. c. hriv. (8-28).
* Of. cit. c. IviiL (7-185). * Op. cif. c. IxviiL (8-168).

322

THE LUMINOUS HISTORIAN

its contrast with the contemporary condition of Europe.
It was a stagnant pool, however. The value of an age
lies with Gibbon in what it bequeaths, and the greatest
legacy must be literature, art and science. But the later
historians who have done such immensely important
work on the Byzantine world do not pretend to induce
us to read the literature. Even the modern interest in
Byzantine art is lukewarm. We gaze at the mosaics,
but 'there is no speculation in those eyes'.

But the Roman Empire in its turn is Gibbon. Every-
thing is subdued to his thought and style. Even the
vicious Tertullian appears in an English dress indis-
tinguishable from his introducer's. Walpole perceived
this truth when he compared the homogeneous texture
of The Decline and Fall to the smoothness of a Flemish
picture. Later critics have been more concerned to
complain that Gibbon reduces all ages and varieties of
humanity to a periwigged uniformity. I do not know
whether this criticism is improved or not by the
reflexion that Hellenism in our day has been made to
run about in house colours and shorts.

Gibbon was in fact well aware of the predicament
which no historian can escape:

Tout homme de g&iie qui crit Phistoire y r^pand, peut-toe
sans s'en apercevoir, le caractere de son esprit. A travers leur
vari&e* infinic de passion et situation, ses personnages semblent
n'avoir qu'une fa9on de penser et de sentirj et cette fa^on est
celle de rauteur.' *

The historian who is conscious of this inevitability
will be the more guarded against earning a place among
those many historians who put us in mind of the ad-
mirable saying of the great Cond to Cardinal de Retz:
'Ces coquins nous font parler et agir comme ils auroient
fait eux-m&nes k notre place'. 2

' 'La Monarchic des MMea', Misc. Wits. Hi. 1*6.
The Decline and Fall, c. riv. n. 4 (2-107).

323

EDWARD GIBBON

But opposite to the whirlpools of imaginative recon-
struction stands the barren wall of self-stultification
which arises out of too much knowledge. The more
minutely the historian of our day examines the past, the
more aware must he be of other worlds than his own;
and the more diffident he becomes of committing him-
self. Froude has eloquently described the impassable
barrier which stands between us and even our fellow
countrymen of the Middle Ages.

Gibbon avoided these dangers by keeping to funda-
mental probabilities. He believed in the stability of
human nature and in 'the sure operation of its fierce
and unrestrained passions'. 1 Such guides could not
retrieve a story whose records were lost, but they could
destroy one the evidence of which was inconsistent
with themselves. Of the eulogistic records of a Persian
dynasty he writes with a force that anticipates so much
of the burden of The Decline and Falh

'Je pense bien que ces rois ne sont pas uniquement occupes des
lois, des sciences, et des beaux-arts ... si cette histoire s'&oit
conserved, on y liroit comme dans toutes les autres, les vices des
grands, et les malheurs des peuples; on y verroit ce triomphe
perp&uel de la violence et de Pintrigue sur la justice, qu'elles
outragent en la violant, et qu'elles outragent cent fois davantage
en se servant impun&nent de son nom sacreV 2

This broad psychology is part of the strength of
Gibbon's work. If it is unadventurous it is unassailable.
It has the merit of design. Gibbon assuredly was not
incapable of the fine analysis of character. His Journal
proves as much; but in the long journey of his History
he could not linger over subtleties of that kind.

Those who know the old engravings of dramatic scenes
and of actors (the upturned eyes and streaming hair)
will be insensibly reminded of them as they read

* The DecSne and Foft c. actvi. (3-320) and c. x. (1-373).
* 'La Monarchic des Mides*, Misc. Wks, iii. 85.

3*4

THE LUMINOUS HISTORIAN

The Decline and Fall. The characters rush on and off
stage tumultuously. They intercede and upbraid, they
tremble, they blush even Baronius blushes in a foot-
note and they weep. Akin to this are the epithets
which Gibbon uses so summarily to praise or to damn.
One after another the personages are artful, credulous,
intrepid, timorous, equitable or haughty, etc. Here it is
the epic rather than the dramatic manner, and Gibbon
has received it from Homer through Pope. These
methods have their weaknesses as well as their merits.
A great amount of learning and thought may be staked
on a single word. There can be no reservations or
redress, and the vivacity of the narrative may sometimes
appear specious.

But history was in Gibbon's view essentially personal
and dramatic. He believed in the man and the hour.
When in the flight from Mecca to Medina, Mahomet
encountered the emissaries of the Koreish, 'the lance of
an Arab might have changed the history of the world*. 1
'In human life the most important scenes will depend
on the character of a single actor', 2 and 'an acrimonious
humour falling on a single fibre of one man may prevent
or suspend the misery of nations', 3 This is rather high-
flown, but it bears a lesson for an age which deals
overmuch in impersonal inevitabilities, and has even
seen an attempt to reduce history to a graph. It is an
outlook which will always win human attention.

'Some tincture of philosophy and criticism', Gibbon
remarks, is demanded of a work that is to instruct
or amuse an enlightened age. 4 It is no contradiction
of this to say that another and still greater element
of durability in The Decline and Fall is the author's

* The Decline and Fall, c. L (6-242), * Of. cit. c. kv. (8-72).

*Op.cit.c. tdv. (8-32).

4 Op. cit. c. Lav. n. 41. It is apropos of Johnson's choice of one KnolJes as
'the first of historians*.

325

EDWARD GIBBON

abstention from theorising. He has nothing to prove.
The detachment which was the politician's weakness is
the historian's strength. With the exception of the 1 5th
and 1 6th chapters his analysis of causes is perfunctory.
When at the close of his third volume he has brought
the Western Empire to an end, he feels obliged to
reflect upon the causes. But he is content to remark
that the extraordinary thing is not that the Roman
Empire fell, but that it stood for so long. The last three
volumes, moving so surely over a vast scene, propound
and answer no questions explicitly, but their power
of suggestion is inexhaustible. The structure of the
narrative stands by itself. An architect builds a house;
he is not called upon to say why it does not fall down.
Gibbon's criticism is absorbed in his creation, which is
a picture of human destiny.

This destiny is no external force. 'Man has much
more to fear from the passions of his fellow creatures
than from the convulsion of the elements/ l In this
wider generalisation religion falls into its own place.
There are many other superstitions and impostures to
be denounced; the sentimentalities that cling about the
almost divine quality of kings, the follies of militar-
ism, and the mystifications of the law; a very personal
grievance here. No ruse of modern dictatorship, no
political stratagem is absent from his pages. The His-
tory is charged with reflexions that anticipate the most
progressive thought of our own day and earn the judg-
ment of 'the ultimate modern morality of his work'. 2
It is modern because, like The Decline and Fall itself, it is
firmly planted on this earth and does not look beyond
the life on it.

But Gibbon was neither a propagandist nor a preacher.
Hence we still read Mm.

1 Tfa DecSne and Folly c. xxvi. (3-294).
* . Blunden, Edward Gibbon and hts Age, p. 33.

326

THE LUMINOUS HISTORIAN

'History which undertakes to record the transactions of the
past, for the instruction of future ages, would ill deserve that
honourable office, if it condescended to plead the cause of
tyrants, or to justify the maxims of persecution.'

But its lessons are negative. It does not propose
what is to be done. The final conclusion seems to be
that though individuals may learn from experience, 'it
is seldom profitable to the successive generations of
mankind*. 1

With this reflexion, he accepted, as most of his ad-
vanced contemporaries did, the existing order of society.
He chastises the vices of the great. But his banners
were not likely to be found on the side of the people.
Still 'all that is human must retrograde if it do not ad-
vance'. 2 On the whole he felt it to be advancing in his
day. Reason was keeping her head up. The competition
of the European nations was productive of good. Even
war was conducted in a gentlemanly fashion. The bar-
barian invasions could not recur. Gibbon did not reckon
with the barbarism that might arise from within. He
had witnessed a surprising increase in England's pro-
sperity, and reflects that luxury never hurt a vigorous
people. In one at least of his political judgments he had
been triumphantly right; he prophesied that the loss of
the American colonies would not ruin England's trade.
There is much to smile at here. But even we have our
optimisms.

As early as 1 763 Gibbon had set his ideal of a histori-
cal writer in an appreciation of Herodotus. He must
be *un observateur dont le coup d'oeil p6n&rant et
juste ne voit que les grands objets, qui les voit de
sang-froid et qui les peint avec chaleur'. 3 One of the
best of Gibbon's modern critics sums up his achieve-
ment in very similar words: 'His picture is drawn with

* The DecSne and Fall, c. adi. (5-123). *Of. cit. c. bad. (8-269).

5 'La Monarchic dcs MMes', Misc. Wks. in. zoz.

3*7

EDWARD GIBBON

the integrity of a scholar, and coloured with the inten-
tion of an artist'. 1

The extent and accuracy of Gibbon's scholarship has
been weighed and accepted by the few men who have
been his equals or even superiors. The merits and defects
of his style have been similarly canvassed. Here the
verdict is more subjective. It has been increasingly
favourable in recent years with the passing of the grand
manner from contemporary letters. We admire the bow
which we do not presume to draw, and which is no
longer made contemptible in the hands of vulgar suitors.
Mr Young has laid a sure finger on the oratorical quality
of Gibbon's prose. He achieved here what he never
dared to attempt in Parliament, and seems often at the
end of a period to be waiting for the applause which
should break out. A complementary criticism may not
be out of place, if the notes are said to be Gibbon's table
talk. Here he is conversing familiarly in the library and
filling in the miscellaneous information which the dignity
of Clio's House would not allow.

For Gibbon's style was based on the Latin orators; but
both the architecture and the decoration of his History
owe much to Herodotus. Like Herodotus he chose a
great and moving theme of human destiny, and like
him too moved slowly towards his goal, marshalling a
still more complex army of events with deliberation,
and surveying at the same time the whole field of human
knowledge on his way, and not disdaining to entertain
his audience in many a learned and witty by-way. Like
Herodotus also, he was under Homer's spell. Homer,
after Voltaire, and with the exception of the immediate
authorities, is more often referred to than any other
writer. But Homer's real influence was exerted not
only in his early reading, in the close study recorded in
the Journal, but also in that preoccupation with details of

1 G. M. Young, Gibbon, p. 84.

328

THE LUMINOUS HISTORIAN

epic construction, common to Gibbon and his contempo-
raries, which are to us of so remote interest.

Gibbon's art never attains to that pitch where it con-
ceals itself. Every movement is conscious and he has
been accused more than once of displaying himself
rather than his subject. Yet 'Julian discovers his own
character with that naivet6, that unconscious simplicity,
which always constitutes genuine humour'. 1 So does
Gibbon. This trait has the singular effect of putting
the several parts of a variegated world in their place.
They are valued impartially in the scale of the his-
torian's favourite epithets. Le Nain de Tillemont's
accuracy is 'incomparable' ; what of the cherry trees which
'produce our incomparable marasquin'? 2 One of the
most musical sentences of the whole work is devoted to
a fish, a very important fish:

'The endless exportation of salt fish and caviar is annually
renewed by the enormous sturgeons that are caught at the
mouth of the Don or Tanais, in their last station of the rich
mud and shallow water of the Maeotis,'

Moreover, they earn a note on their length, weight and
yield, ending with an irrelevant reminder that the
Bosphorus had supplied the Athenians with corn in
the time of Demosthenes. 3 This is the very spirit of
Herodotus and the essence of Gibbon's leisurely and
irresponsible procedure. There is something very
salutary about this tribute to a fish. Julian himself
could receive no more.

Attempts are made to place Gibbon in honourable
retirement. If he is read, it is as literature, or as a typical
figure of the eighteenth century. Some ulterior motives
are to be suspected in this kind of criticism. Its weak-
ness should be apparent. To be a typical man of the age

1 The Decline and Fall, c. xxiii. n. iii. a Op. cit. c. Ix. n. 46.

s Op. cit. c. IxiiL (7-407) and n. 46.

EDWARD GIBBON

is a poor guarantee of being read, and those whose
literary qualities predominate over their subject generally
do cease to be read except by the dilettante.

It may be enough to ask such critics if they think that
Gibbon would still be read if he had not written with
the substantial accuracy with which he did. Amid the
enormous accessions of knowledge and the widening of
the curiosity about the past which goes with the expan-
sion of modern life, Gibbon's bridge between the ancient
and modern worlds remains remarkably safe. Moreover,
the journey is unfailingly entertaining. No more mas-
terly skill in holding the reader's attention over so vast
a theme has ever been known. At the heart of it is
the informing spirit of the creator with his conception
of the unity of history, his suggestive judgments and
unsleeping scepticism, and his truly humane outlook.
This expresses itself partly in his roguish wit and his
unflagging gusto, no less also in his sober recognition
that mankind goes its way never much better and never
much worse. What changes there may be, must be
evolved by ourselves. There is no other help.

Nothing is extolled more often by Gibbon than free-
dom. But freedom, either political or personal, is beset
with equivocations. Nevertheless his most insistent
lesson for in the end there is a lesson is that the
freedom of the mind is 'the source of every generous
and rational sentiment*. His still timely warning is
that it may be destroyed by 'habits of credulity and
submission'. 1

1 The Decline and Fall, c. xxxvii. (4-313).

330

Chapter 25

'GIBBON CASTLE 5

1788-1793

THE autumnal felicity which, should now have been
Gibbon's, began well with a visit from Fox. From
'the bloody tumult of the Westminster Election' he
arrived at the Lyon d'Or with Mrs Annitstead. There
is a lyrical quality in Gibbon's description of a memor-
able day:

'I have eat and drank and conversed and sat up all night 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,
for his fair Companion was a cypher, from ten in the morning
till ten at night*

In the wide range of that long talk Fox did not forget
to flatter his host on his book, to take an interest in his
garden, and to let him think he envied him. His reward
was to watch Gibbon pacing up and down the room as
he talked, with many complacent glances at the Rey-
nolds portrait over the chimney-piece. 1 The portrait
was soon to be sent away in exchange for Sheffield's by
the same artist. Sheffield had coveted it before; but
according to Gibbon, Deyverdun had objected to its
removal.

But Deyverdun was fast declining beyond such cares.
The one blot on this wonderful day was his inability to
be of the party. Strokes of thundering apoplexy had

' Rogers** Tabk Talk, p. 78.
331

EDWARD GIBBON

failed to cure him of his indulgent habits, and early in
1789 the doctors said he could not live. As a final
resource he was sent 'to the mineral waters at Aix in
Savoy'. An express announced that he had died there
on the 4th July, and the lawyers came to seal up his
apartment. *Je croyais Stre prpar', Gibbon wrote to
Madame de S6very, 'mais ce coup m'a boulevers6. . . .
Aprfes trente-trois ans . . , Adieu.'

Deyverdun, foreseeing his end, had taken precautions
in his will to secure the use of La Grotte for his friend.
Gibbon had the option of buying the property at an
advantageous price or of renting it for life. But the
Swiss laws introduced an unexpected risk, since the
heirs-at-law also had the option of buying it and at the
same advantageous price. There were other difficulties
on the side of renting. But after some anxious pondering
and negotiation with M. de Montagny, the ultimate
legatee, an agreement was made by which Gibbon was
left in possession for life, with a free hand to improve
the property as he liked.

Gnef tor Deyverdun was no transitory emotion. Every
walk and bench in the garden reminded Gibbon of con-
versations never to be resumed, and he especially felt
the return of an evening to the lonely house. For some
months he was in a depression of spirits which alarmed
Sheffield. Other friends were at hand. Whereas in his
first period at La Grotte Gibbon had only slept one
night from home, he now began to pay regular visits to
the pleasant country houses of his friends, de S^very at
Mex and Rolle, and later to the Neckers at Coppet.
The vintage and he became welcome concomitants.

But how about filling the empty rooms at La Grotte?
Gibbon could not venture on the suggestion of inviting
an agreeable couple to share it. He turned to his own
family. His cousin Charlotte Porten had lately lost her
father, Sir Stanier, and the family were poor. Should he

332

Brandoin del.

Lith d C Constant

EDWARD GIBBON

Prom a contemporary drawing

'GIBBON CASTLE'

adopt this charming child and mould her like wax to
Swiss habits, that is to say, his own? He threw out
hints; but the widow would not part with her child.
Marriage once more? A remedy for loneliness that
might cure too much. Mme Necker, perhaps a little
jealous, certainly very wise, counselled him to refrain.
* Vous gtes mari6 avec la gloire', she said. But her friend
had already prudently dismissed the idea. *I am not in
love with any of the Hyaenas/ he told Sheffield, 'though
there are some who keep their claws tolerably well pared/

It was better to rule alone over 'Gibbon Castle'. His
servants are said to have adored him, and he was never
out of humour with them even in his frequent illnesses. 1
But the greatest exactitude was required. A hairdresser
was dismissed for being after seven in the morning, and
his successor, who arrived some minutes beforehand,
met the same fate. 2 The house was arranged with taste
and without ostentation. Gibbon had the art of sending
away his visitors pleased with themselves, and never
showed ennui. His enemies never upset him, and he
forgot any slights d'une manitre si douce et si facile that
one doubted if he had noticed them. 3 For intimate
company he relied more and more on the family de
S6very. Mme de S6very helped him with the elegant
entertainments which he gave, often on a large scale.
He was spending freely on them and on improvements
to the house.

For a turn at last had come in his fortunes, though
Sheffield still had cause to remark 'there seems to be
something supernatural attending all your worldly con-
cerns'. Buriton had at last been sold in 1789, but only
for 1 6,000. Yet the completion dragged on for two

1 The Chanoinesse de Potter's obituary notice in Journal Littindre de
Lausannf 9 1794.

2 Brief c von Priedrich Matthisson (ZQrich, 1792), pp. 43-8.

3 Mile de Polier, op. eft.

333

EDWARD GIBBON

years while the lawyers haggled over the title. A painful
resemblance to the old Lenborough business. Finally,
after nearly twenty years of unflagging devotion, Lord
Sheffield had delivered his friend from the burdens of
a landed gentleman. Before this achievement Aunt
Hester had died. A legacy from her of 1000 was cut
down in a codicil to ioo. Gibbon pretended to no
grievance; he had neglected his aunt when last in
England. But an estate at Newhaven now devolved to
him bringing in some 225 a year. This Gibbon very
naturally wished to sell. An essential deed, once more,
was missing, and once more Sheffield came to the
rescue, this time as the purchaser under arrangements
which nearly doubled the income. It being then a
period of cheap money, the laying-out of so much liquid
assets was difficult, especially as Sheffield had a prefer-
ence for mortgages over the funds. Gibbon followed
his transactions insistently and clamoured for informa-
tion, only to be called a damned Jew or a Tabby for his
pains. But his anxiety is understandable. At last after
many minor hitches he had some ^20,000 well laid out,
not including other resources, and could be called 'a
rich old fellow'. His income must have been over
1200 a year.

It is only for this period that any number of Lord
Sheffield's letters have survived. They afford the ex-
pected contrast with his friend's. Energetic and playfully
abusive they nevertheless betray a real and tender regard.
Amid an increasingly busy life the member for Bristol,
the successful adversary of Pitt over the Corn Laws,
could find time to look after Gibbon's concerns great
and small from Madeira to mortgages. 'In truth a wise
active indefatigable and inestimable friend.'

Gibbon showed his gratitude by insistently demanding
a visit to Lausanne. Although Sheffield swore he had
not a shilling, the ladies forced a surrender, so that the

334

'GIBBON CASTLE'

whole family set out in June 1791, crossed revolutionary
France and were royally entertained from July to Octo-
ber by Gibbon. He was indeed known as 'The King of
the Place', and reigned, in Sheffield's words, over 'all
the society, I mean all the best society that Lausanne
afforded'. But behind the dignified peer, conscious of
his position as a literary man's friend, was a quizzing
daughter. 1

Maria Holroyd voted Swiss society dull, tame and
absurdly obsequious. When the little round mouth
opened, as it generally did some moments before the
sentence was ready to issue, an awful silence ensued.
There was no one to meet Gibbon on equal terms, and
she could not understand how much pleasure flattery
gave the most sensible people. Yet Gibbon would not
stand any joking about the Lausannois and gave Maria
a 'scouting* several times.

The truth in part was that Maria's eyes were set on
the French refugees, the truly pitiable fragments of the
most brilliant Parisian society, great ladies like the
Princesse de Bouillon and the Princesse d'H&nin. But
the French and the Swiss were not taking to one another,
and Gibbon entirely shared the prejudices of his fellow
citizens. Describing an entertainment of the exiles at
the CMteau he says, 'J'^fcds le seul Suisse table'. 2 A
time was coming when he was more anxious to glory
in the name of Englishman.

Salomon de S^very was a dying man, and it was unkind
of Maria to judge him emuyeux. She thought the whole
family was frigid and dignified, the more so because of
the historian's attentions. For he doted upon them, and
they were known, so she says, as 'Gibbon's Adopted'.
Next a scratch at Mme Necker: 'She is rather a fine

* This chapter and the next depend for much valuable information on J. H.
Adeane' s The Girlhood of Maria Joscpha Holroyd.
*M.et Mm de Sfotry, ii. 68.

335

EDWARD GIBBON

woman; much painted, and when she is not painted,
very yellow*. She was very learned, and liked to hold
Mr Gibbon in long literary conversations. But Mr
Gibbon was wont to waddle across the room to the side
of a pretty Portuguese lady with whom he was 'des-
perately in love', and sit looking at her, 'till his round
eyes ran down with water not Tears of Love for
poor man, he could not help it, as they are not of the
strongest, and if you fix the Sun, you will weep, in spite
of yourself'. Mme de Silva had a husband and, what
was more, a cicisbeo who spiked Gibbon's guns by
giving him a hogshead of Madeira he was said to
own half the island.

In one of the many letters of flat adoration which
Mme Necker could write to Gibbon in these days with-
out trespassing the bounds of a lifelong propriety, she
tells how time is annihilated as she sits by him and he is
at once the historian and the young man of twenty,
son premier et son dernier ami. Did she ever reflect how
doubly right she was? As the incorrigible old flirt
goggled at his pretty Portuguese, did she see him once
more in a porner with La Petite Femme? Laugh at his
amorousness as you may, the ladies liked him. Even
the irrepressible Maria was sincerely fond of him, and
his latest flame, Madame de Silva, was one of the kst
four or five persons to see him, alive in his melancholy
London lodgings.

In the year after Maria, came a more impressionable
observer. 1 Sophie Laroche was full of Schwarmerei and
respect for the prestige of the West. She was almost
overcome when she found herself at dinner between
Sir John Macpherson and Gibbon ; 2 and still more when

1 Sophie Laroche, Erinnerungen aus meiner dritten Schwoeizerreise (Oflen-
bach, 1793}$ also Revue Suisse, 1858, pp. 243 sqq., 323 sqq^ 378 sqq., and
. H. Gaullaur, La Suisse francaise en 1792.

* She was more interested in Macpherson as the bearer of a name connected
with the romantic Hebrides. A similar enthusiasm for Richardson's Lord

336

'GIBBON CASTLE'

in the historian's library, almost as great a show as
himself, she heard the Chevalier de Boufflers give Gibbon
an account of the races, of Senegal and of the remains of
the Roman occupation in Africa. But her greatest scene
was set in a building which still survives.

Near the west door of the Cathedral, at the head of and
in fact bridging the Escalier du March6, is a wooden
pavilion once belonging to Gibbon's friend, the pastor
David Levade. 1 A small wooden room, with slatted
windows commanding a view of the lake towards
Geneva, is surrounded by a verandah. It is adapted to
making the best of all weathers, and the interior is ap-
propriately decorated with paintings of the four seasons.
Here a dejeuner was given amid exotic plants and a
voli&re full of canaries. The chief guests were a number
of French ladies, some of whom were yet to return to
France and lose their heads, Mme de Silva who recited
her ailments to Sophie, the de S^verys and Gibbon.
After lunch the ladies turned over Lavater's Physiognomie
in Levade's library and Sophie observed Gibbon's face,
intently, as he examined a print of the newly discovered
tomb of Scipio and discoursed on it to Mme d'Aguesseau
and her daughters^ She did not take to Gibbon particu-
larly, and disapproved of his manner with ladies. But
his chief offence seems to have been a bitter attack on
Mme de Genlis's works. A good thing too. He also
entertained the company with the story of the Sheffields'
abigail who gave birth to *a sea nymph' in mid-Channel. 2
A little scandalising perhaps for Sophie, pauvre et bonne
femme souabe. Her most interesting observation was

Grandison led her to call on a Mr Grandison at Mon Repos. She found a
little copper-coloured man who smoked and spat all day. He was in part
redeemed by the habit of calling his servants by the names of flowers.

1 It had been built for him by a friend who had a similar building in Amster-
dam, and the design perhaps comes from the Dutch Indies. G. A. Bridel et
. Bach, Lausanne, Promenades Mstoriques, etc. 28. It is mainly through
M. BrideTs efforts that this interesting building survives.

* See Sheffield's and Maria Holroyd's letters. Prothero, ii. 272-3.

337 z

EDWARD GIBBON

that although Gibbon appeared to be naturalised in
Lausanne, he was in fact deeply attached to English
ideas and habits.

It used to be the fashion to sneer at Gibbon's perturba-
tion over the French Revolution. In the snugness of
the last century this may have been very well. In our
days it will not do.

Once more, it was not the historian's business to fore-
see revolution. When people questioned him on the
causes of it, he pointed to The Decline and Fall it was
a good way of silencing enquirers, and they would at
any rate find that human nature, if not history, repeats
itself. Gibbon knew too much in that dawn to sympa-
thise with abstract propositions, or to imagine tnat
Utopia would spring from Chaos. On the other hand
he shocked Maria by hoping that those Vaudois, on
whom suspicion of revolutionary aims had fallen, would
have a fair trial. With the development of horrors he
lost his philosophic detachment, applauded Burke
rather wildly, wrote vehement letters to Sheffield sug-
gesting among other things that the names of Whig
and Tory were obsolete in the face of the common foe.
A very modern ring about that.

Maria might be amused that he was no longer so eager
to be a Suisse. But he was not living on a remote island.
Examples of aristocracy reduced to poverty were met
daily. His own Neckers had been forced to leave
France, and that not a moment too soon. Nor were they
out of danger. There came a time in October 1792,
when the terraces of Lausanne were alive with telescopes
sweeping the other side of the lake for the expected
tricolour descending on Evian; when Geneva, a bare
fortymiles away, seemed already a prey to Montesquieu's
army. And what an army! 'The officers, scarcely a

338

'GIBBON CASTLE'

Gentleman among them. . . .' A whole new world
dawns in this ingenuous phrase. In Lausanne itself *a
ira had to be forbidden in the streets, and the suspects,
a friend, Colonel Polier, among them, were banished.
There was a good chance of the fabric of Gibbon's happi-
ness being swept away. He knew himself to be in no
personal danger. If he thought of visiting Italy again,
Lady Elizabeth Foster, 'Bess we call her', was the
incentive, not fear. Far different was the Neckers' case.
They were proscribed names, and retreated from Cop-
pet, too exposed to a raid across the frontier, to Rolle,
where they were joined by Mme de Stael, a 'constitu-
tionelle' fresh from Paris and expecting a baby. If
Geneva fell they would have to move, perhaps to
Ztirich for the winter. Gibbon would go with them and
their society would make any place agreeable. Mean-
while he would wait also, with two horses and a hundred
louis in gold for the emergency.

His coolness was rewarded. The dangers of invasion
and revolution passed. Montesquiou surprised the
Neckers one night by walking into their house a refugee
himself. They returned to Coppet and their daughter
went to England; she had already opened an importu-
nate correspondence with the historian.

Mme de Stael's object appears to have been to use
Gibbon as an instrument to persuade the Bernese
government to receive the 'advanced' 6migr6s^ particu-
larly Louis de Narbonne and Mathieu de Montmorency.
Gibbon was a most eminent man, he was English and
therefore neutral, and he was on very friendly terms
with M. d'Erlach, the governor of Lausanne. She con-
tinued writing from Juniper Hall, sometimes flattering,
sometimes scolding. This lady, whose last weapon was
her beauty, had the charming impudence to tell Gibbon
that apart from his face he was a hundred times plus
aimable than herself. Thus spurred on, Gibbon seems

339

EDWARD GIBBON

to have been successful. At the time that he left
Lausanne for ever, his correspondent returned to Swit-
zerland. In December she announced the presence of
de Montmorency and de Saucourt under Swedish
names. Narbonne was coming as a Spaniard. 'Berne le
sait, Berne le tol&re.' I

To all but himself his health was becoming an anxious
concern. Gout was regarded as part of a gentleman's
route. It must come, and would go. We hear less of
milk and more of Malmsey and Madeira, an essential
now of his existence. He had not profited by Deyver-
dun's lesson. A severe attack of erysipelas in 1 790 was
borne with fortitude. But he apologised to Sheffield
for the disgusting details and seemed as anxious to dis-
miss the subject from his own thoughts. He would not
see a doctor. There must have been some deep-seated
prudery and impulse to blink at physical facts; they de-
rived possibly from his upbringing as an infant. Perhaps
too he was deceived by his unflagging mental energy.

The pleasures of study were inexhaustible, and he had
revelled in his new liberty. But he must draw the pen
again. Deyverdun's death hastened Gibbon's return to
writing. 2 An incautious letter to Cadell led to rumours
of a seventh volume. He was probably wise to draw
back. Another scheme a series of biographical por-
traits of famous Englishmen did not seem too arduous.
He instructed Sheffield to open negotiations, which
would need the dexterity of an Auckland or a Malmes-
bury. It was essential that the booksellers should do
the soliciting. If Nichols rose to the bait, Sheffield was
to lead him on with hesitations; he must say:

1 P. Kohler, Mme. de Statl et Gibbon avec dcs kttrts intdites, Bibtiotfeque
Universelle, avr. 1912, and Mme. de StaSl et La. Suisse, pp. 1 25-3 8, by the same
author. The ^letters are in Add. MSS. 34886.

* In the Antiquities of the House of Brunswick and the essay on the supposed
circumnavigation of Africa by the ancients, he showed that he had lost none
of his old power and charm. He contemplated a volume of such pieces.

340

Page of Manuscript Notes for the Autobiography

'GIBBON CASTLE'

'I am afraid, Mr. Nichols, that we shall hardly persuade my
friend to engage in so great a work. Gibbon is ola, and rich, and
lazy. However, you may make the tryal, and if you have a
mind to write to Lausanne (as I do not know when he will be
in England), I will send the application.'

Many such vivid and artful strokes in the Letters
make one think what an admirable novelist or play-
wright Gibbon might have been.

But that scheme too was dropped, and the historian
turned in on himself. Rolling the inimitable phrases
over on his palate like good Madeira, he drafted and
redrafted his Memoirs. He surveyed his past with
complacence and mellow wit, and found no place for
resentment and little for regret. The idea may have
matured for years, and we can discern some of the
famous sentences in their nebular phase if we search
the Letters and even The 'Decline and Fall. 1 - Sheffield
probably alone was in the secret, and he was full of en-
thusiasm, wisely warning his friend of the possible
difference between an immediate and a posthumous
publication.

1 'The barefoot friars of St. Francis occupy the temple of Jupiter' (Decline
and Fall, c. Ixix, n. 36).

341

Chapter 26

LAST DAYS

1793 CAME ^^ Gibbon would be called on to pay his
promised visit to England, which had been put off in
the troubles of the previous year. The Sheffields hoped
that it might be the end of this whim of living abroad.
Gibbon seemed reluctant to move and was divided be-
tween the discomforts of a route through Germany and
the dangers of France. He inclined towards the latter,
and even thought of going fry Paris 'to assist at the
debates of the randaemonium, to seek an introduction
to the principal Devils, and to contemplate a new form
of public and private life*. He hoped it was a transitory
phenomenon. Had his imagination been fired by Mme
de Stael?

Sheffield crushed the wild scheme sternly. There was
probably no need. In February Gibbon was at Coppet
for the last time and witnessed Mme Necker's prostra-
tion after the murder of the King of France. He was
stirred to a vehement outburst, although, as the leading
Englishman in Lausanne, he had thought it proper not
to wear mourning. Sheffield said he was a damned
temporising son of a bitch*. A private blow was added
to support delay. Salomon de Svery died after a long
illness, and Gibbon devoted himself to comforting his
family. The weeks and months passed. Mme de Svery
and Mme Necker were both counselling him to stay.
These two ladies had been drawn together over their

342

LAST DAYS

common concern for the historian, just as a bond had
been formed between the de S^verys and the Sheffields.
Only a powerful impulse, it might be hazarded, would
move him now. It came with overwhelming suddenness.

Lady Sheffield died on 3rd April after four days' illness
and in the absence of her family. It was a stroke of the
revolution, for she had been looking after sick tmigrts
at Guy's Hospital. It was one of them, Lally Tollendal,
who conveyed to Gibbon in a letter wild with grief the
news that truly struck him to the heart. 'I love her
better than any woman in the world; indeed I do', he
had told her husband two years before, and his letters
for over twenty years had never varied in his affection
for her, but only in his constant invention of endearing
names.

His decision was immediate and irrevocable. He
would start at once, and not all the imploring of the
Swiss ladies could stop him. After his death Mme
Necker could say that she could not reproach herself
for having neglected any means to make him give up
that horrible journey. The news had come on the ayth
April. Certain preparations and dispositions had to be
made. By this time England was at war with France,
and there was no choice of route. It was arranged to
start on the pth May. The de S^verys had full powers
to look after and use his house. He gave Mme de
S6very his will amid the usual pleasantries. The day
before he was to start, his fifty-sixth birthday, he
spent the evening with her and the children, and com-
plained that there had been little time to finish his
business. Tourquoi ne pas rester encore un jour', he
said suddenly, *il sera pour I'amitte.' Accordingly
another day was consecrated to friendship. On the
loth he came round in his coach to say good-bye. In
spite of what each might say, there must have been
forebodings that this would be a last meeting. From

343

EDWARD GIBBON

her window on the rue du Bourg Mme de Svery
watched him get into his coach followed by Wilhelm.

They were handsomely entertained on the way at
Berne and other places by friends and Wilhelm's nume-
rous relations. BUle and Karlsruhe were passed, and
they skirted behind the war. At Frankfort could be
heard the cannonade of the siege of Maintz twenty
miles away. Here Prince Reusse XIII of Offenbach
invited them to dinner and sent his coach for them.
Wilhelm went no further. The rest of the route was
finished without difficulty or danger. Gibbon reached
Downing Street 'not in the least affected by the fatigue
of a rough and tedious journey'. He found Sheffield
very wisely immersed in public business; but he was
philosopher enough to appreciate an irony other than
his own. 'In truth', Gibbon wrote to Mme de S6very,
'the paitient was almost cured before the arrival of the
doctor.' He added: 'the storm is over, he is weary of
the calm. I think he will put to sea again.' A prophecy
fulfilled four years after Gibbon's death.

But we must not discount Sheffield's gratitude for an
act which he confessed to have expected. And if nothing
else, Mrs Gibbon's joy was a reward for the journey.
'I never felt myself happier,' she wrote 'because I never
was so miserable, as from the time those vile miscreants
the French Democrats was within forty miles of
Lausanne, till you arrived safe in England.' She humbly
invited him to Bath.

A long summer was spent at Sheffield Place. Holroyd
says that his guest's conversation was as entertaining as
ever. But the deterioration of his health could not avoid
notice, and Maria's franker details are ominous. Gib-
bon's temper was not what it was. There was querulous-
ness because a turtle was not ordered, and grumpiness
because Papa made him stay a fortnight longer than he
intended. 'You know he is clockwork.' Worse still,

344

LAST DAYS

the peer and the historian began to weary of the long
t$te--tgte after dinner. Gibbon being 'a mortal enemy
to any persons taking a walk'. Add to that his insistence
on a good fire in the middle of July.

It was a relief when Mr Douglas 1 came with his
Greek and Latin, and Fred North full of talk about
Ithaca and Corfu. 2 These put Gibbon in a good humour
again, and Maria says the three were very entertaining,
whether serious or trifling. Good Mr Thomas Bowdler
also came for a night, but we do not know if it was any-
thing that was said then that led him to suppose that
Gibbon would not have objected to his mutilation of
The Decline and Fall* Arthur Young was there too. In
August and September there were many other visitors
and they sometimes sat down seventeen to dinner. The
Militia was once more in being, and to see a review the
old veteran with the ladies was dragged over the field
in the coach with the help of Lord Pelham's cart-horse.

In spite of failing health he performed his last act for
scholarship during these months. He agreed to write
a general preface and introductions for Pinkerton's
projected edition of early English historians. He was
to read them himself at Lausanne. He wrote a pro-
spectus for Pinkerton which appeared on the day he died.

In October he left on a round of visits. Bath first,
where a t$te-&-t$te of eight or nine hours a day was
difficult to support. Then Althorp. But in November

* Sylvester Douglas, 1743-1823, later Lord Glenbervie. He had married
Lady Katherine North whose sister Sheffield was to marry in 1798.

2 Frederick North, 1766-1835, youngest son of the prime minister, eventu-
ally 5th Earl of Guilford, was a good Greek scholar and an enthusiastic
Philhellene. He had travelled in Greece, and studied the modern dialects. He
was later founder and chancellor of the University of Corfu, and astonished
people by wearing at all times the ancient Greek dress which he had prescribed
as academic costume. He seems to have been in the true vein of the old English
eccentrics.

3 Bowdler reduced it to 50 chapters by cutting out all those on church
history. He died in 1825, and his son published die work in 1826.

345

EDWARD GIBBON

he was in London again in lodgings over Elmsley's shop
at 76 St. James's Street. He could no longer conceal
from himself or his friends that he was unwell. Yet he
was dining out still; in a chair to Lord Lucan's; with
Gilly Williams, the one as amusing as the other, at the
Douglases'; * and thinking even of going to the Prince
of Wales*. But the rational voluptuary had unwittingly
prophesied his own end. *He indulged himself" in a
vain confidence which deferred the remedies of the
approaching evil without deferring the evil itself/ 2

He astounded Sheffield, as he astounds us in a different
way, by asking him for the first time if he had ever
noticed his complaint, while Malone tells us that when
Gibbon used to occupy his vantage point before the
fire and give a preliminary rap on his box, the ladies did
not know which way to look. The hydrocele had
brought him to a dropsical state for which tapping was
necessary. He asked Sheffield to be with him and Maria
feared some risk. But the operation was a success, too
much so. For with Dr. Farquhar's approval Gibbon was
living as usual and dining out again. Even a second
operation close on the first made no difference, and there
were people eager to entertain him. He passed a
delightful day with Burke, and an odd one with Mon-
signor Erskine, the Papal Nuncio, and staying at Eden
Farm with Lord Auckland increased his liking for Pitt
whom he had recently met at Lord Loughborough's.
Christmas was spent at Sheffield Place and he was in
brilliant conversational form. But Maria noted that
going up and down stairs was a great effort for him.
Toor Historian!*

In January the swelling had increased again and it was
a grave sign when he could not enjoy his breakfast;
His condition was septic. Sheffield advised him to
return to town. The journey over the frozen roads half

* The Glenbervie Journals, p. 58. * The Decline and Fall, c. xiv. (2-130).

346

LAST DAYS

killed him, yet he persisted that he was 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/

It was his last note.

Sheffield followed him to town and was with him on
the 1 3th when a third tapping was mad$. The next
day he felt able to leave his friend 'as the medical
gentlemen expressed no fears for his life'. On the same
afternoon Gibbon saw his old friends Lady Lucan and
her daughter Lady Spencer, and on the next day the
seductive Mme de Silva and Craufurd of Auchinames
saw him. 1 Sheffield had a good account of him on
the morning of the i6th, but later came an express of
the most serious import. He left immediately and,
reaching town about midnight, learnt that Gibbon had
died about a quarter to one that afternoon, the 1 6th of
January 1794.

In the whole of this rapidly fatal illness Gibbon was
never treated as being seriously ill. It does not appear
that he spent a day in bed. His valet Dussaut sent to
the Chanoinesse de Polier an account of his end, fuller
than Sheffield's narrative and differing in some ways. It
is a grim revelation of the way a gentleman might die in
St. James's in the latter end of the age of enlightenment.

OnthedaybeforeGibbondied,Dr.Farquharwaspleased
with his condition and ordered him some meat; he had
not had any for several days. Dussaut had a chicken
roasted, and brought him a wing (for he would not look
at it whole) and cut it up for him. Gibbon crumbled
some bread and ate the food bit by bit. The first morsel

1 Farington mentions that Horace Walpole, now Lord Oxford, was said to
have been with Gibbon two days before he died. I suspect a confusion with
a servant of Sheffield's called Walpole. Farington Diary, i. p. 34.

347

EDWARD GIBBON

caused him a terrible effort; but he ate it all, continually
asking if he had not finished, as he took the pieces from
the plate. He enjoyed three small glasses of Madeira.
After this he said he was very uncomfortable in his
chair, but would wait until Dussaut had had his dinner.
Dussaut made him comfortable at once, and Gibbon
remained dozing in his chair, having given orders that
if someone called he was to be put off till the next day.
He went to bed at nine and took a sedative. But from
the time he got into bed until he died he could not close
his eyes. He would not have anyone in the room but
Dussaut. But as it was impossible to hold him up alone,
Dussaut fetched his English servant when he wanted a
drink. 'Then Monsieur being unable to speak any
more, grasped my hand with his left, looking at me,
and drawing his right hand from the bed to signal the
other to leave the room; and I was to see him expire,
alone and without a soul in the house/

During the night Gibbon said 'Mon pauvre Dussaut,
vous avez un service bien p^nible avec moi. Je crains
que vous ne deveniez aussi malade/ He never asked to
see anyone. But in the morning Dussaut sent for the
doctor. He did not come till eleven. Gibbon's only
response to his enquiries was 'What is it?' The doctor
went out and told Dussaut he had lost his master.
Dussaut went in again, and Gibbon took him by the
hand, saying, 'Dussaut, vous me laissez'. He was con-
scious to the end, and, two minutes before it, put out
his tongue, at his servant's request. Poor Dussaut was
doing his best to the last. 1

1 Dussaut's statement in M. ft Mme de S&very 9 ii. 38. There is another one
by him in Add. MSS. 34887 on which Lord Sheffield's narrative is based.
It adds a number of details which depict both Gibbon's suffering and his
fortitude during his last night. It has been suggested that the immediate
cause of death was streptococcic peritonitis, in which collapse supervenes
rapidly, the patient's mind remaining clear to the last. C. MacLaurin,
Post Mortem? pp. 180-189.

348

LAST DAYS

The funeral was of the utmost simplicity, such as
Sheffield had known his friend to desire. On the 23rd
of January the coffin was laid in the north transept of
Fletching Church, which had been appropriated for the
Holroyds' family tomb. On the Gothic stone screen
which seals the transept Gibbon's name holds pride
of place in the centre. Above him are those of Lord
Sheffield and his first wife. The long Latin inscription
was composed by Dr. Parr. The historian's merits
were recited and, with an exactitude which would have
pleased him, the length of his life is given as fifty-six
years seven months twenty-eight days.

In London the celebrated Mr Gibbon was dead.
Hannah More gave thanks that she had escaped un-
defiled by his acquaintance. In Switzerland an affection-
ate friend was mourned. Mme de Stael said that the
only link that held her to that country was gone. Her
mother's grief was passionate and she took what con-
solation there was in reflecting that she had always been
against the journey to England. Her own health was
failing rapidly and she died in the same year.

In his will, drafted and written by himself, Gibbon
still spoke to his friends in the familiar style. His dis-
positions were a little disconcerting. He left no legacies
to his executors, mentioning that to Lord Sheffield he
owed a debt which could never be repaid. With a last
glance at an old grievance, he remarked that his nearest
relations the EKots were already sufficiently en-
dowed. He therefore left the bulk of his property
Malone heard it was about 26,000 to his cousins
Charlotte and Stanier James Porten. To Wilhelm de
Svery, a comparatively recent friend whom never-
theless he styled by the endearing name of 'son', he
left his household effects in Lausanne together with
3000. To Lady Sheffield and Maria he had left small
legacies on the same scale as to a number of other

349

EDWARD GIBBON

people. But of Mrs Gibbon there was no mention
at all.

The only explanation of this appears to be that sug-
gested by Maria Holroyd. Gibbon had omitted her
name on making a new will, being convinced that she
could not live much longer. Mrs Gibbon took the
slight for so it could not but be felt with great
restraint and dignity. 'Not angry', said Maria, 'but
affectionately grieved/ She survived another two years,
until February 1796.

The testator adhered to ah old intention that his
library should be sold. Sheffield had in vain admonished
him that the books should be left to him to be installed
at Sheffield Place as a lasting monument to his genius.

In the summer of 1 794 Sheffield and his elder daughter
were deep in 'the poor fellow's' papers, and Maria re-
flected upon the use a Boswell would have made of them.
The history of their famous editing lies beyond our scope.
With his unfailing energy and loyalty, Sheffield devoted
himself for many years to sustaining his friend's memory
according to the current notions of dignity. He took
liberties which would be heinous in a modern editor.
But gratitude far outweighs any other feeling about his
work. He himself died in 1 8 2 1 , at the age of eighty-six.

FINIS

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1KT

Appendix I
THE FAMILY OF GIBBON

* A LIVELY desire of knowing and recording our ancestors' was
dormant in Gibbon until his last years. His father and grand-
father had been equally indifferent. Lord Sheffield described his
friend's ignorance as distinguished, and had to apply to Mrs
Gibbon for information even about recent family portraits which
had been rolled up when Gibbon left Buriton. They did not fit
in with his scheme of decoration at Bentinck Street.

His interest was aroused about 1 788 by receiving from a German
correspondent John Gibbon's Introductio ad Latinam Blasoniam.
Gibbon rashly assumed that the herald was a brother of his great-
grandfather and adopted his ancestry in his Memoirs. In Decem-
ber of that year J. C. Brooke, Somerset Herald, was also reporting
to Sheffield on his researches into the historian's tree. Meanwhile
Sir Samuel Egerton Brydges, a distant cousin, had contributed
anonymousljr to the Gentleman's Magazine some notes on the
Gibbon family. These seem to have first come to Gibbon's
notice in 1792, and on his return to England he advertised for
the author in the Magazine. A correspondence then began
between him and Brydges. Gibbon was actively interested and
borrowed some books on Kent. But he died before he could
revise his MS., which he had left in Lausanne. His editor printed
the account he had written of his family without comment,
although he had a mass of papers on the subject which are now
in Add. MSS. 34887. Among them was a tree in Gibbon's
autograph based on Brydges' information. Sheffield gave this to
Lord Hardwicke; Add. MSS. 36248, f. 9.

The tree given in this appendix follows Brydges and is supple-
mented from the usual sources of registers, marriage licences and
wills in P.C.C. For Brydges' notes and correspondence with
Gibbon, see Gent. Mag. Iviii. 698, lix. 584, Ixii. 52$, Ixiv. 5,

353 *A

EDWARD GIBBON

Ixvi. 272 and 459; Nicholas Literary Anecdotes, viiL 5575
Brydges' Autobiography and Lex Terrae. See also papers and
correspondence in Add. MSS. 34887, and Particulars and Inven-
tory of Edward Gibbon Esq., 1720.

NOTES

(a) Thomas Gibbon is said to have descended from the Gibbons
of Rolvenden, Le. ultimately the same line as John Gibbon the
herald. He bought the Westdifie estate from Lord Borough in
Queen Elizabeth's reign.

(b) Philip Gibbon married 1585 Elizabeth Philpot, an heiress
whom Brydges conjectured to be a sister of an ancestress of
Swift.

(c) Mathew Gibbon, bachelor, about 25, married Hester
Abrahall of Allhallows Barking, 1 7th October 1667. St. Helen's
Bishopsgate Reg. and London Marriage Licences (Harleian
Society).

(d) Hester Gibbon, widow, married Richard Acton 27 October
1698. Faculty Office Marriage Licences.

(e) Edward Gibbon, bachelor, 30, married Katharine Acton,
spinster, 16, in St. Paul's Cathedral, gth May 1705. St Paul's
Reg. and Lon. Mar. Lie. (Harleian Society).

(/) Katharine Gibbon married her cousin Edward EUiston of
St. Peter's Cornhill and Overhall, Guestingthorpe, Essex, in St.
Paul's, 2nd December 1733. For the intermarrying here see
Herald and Genealogist, v. 424-6.

(g) Edward Gibbon married Judith Porten at St. Christopher le
Stocks, 3rd June 1736, by William Law.

354

JTJT

I '

P-I jl>

s i-

^ s

13

.

III

T^

Appendix II
THE FAMILY OF PORTEN

(a) DAVID STANIER, born at Cologne, received certificate of
denization I3th November 16045 merchant 5 buried at Great
St. Helen's, Bishopsgate, 1625. W. A. Shaw, Letters ofDeniza-
tion y etc., Huguenot Society of London, xviii. 6 and 35, and
R. E. G. Kirk and E. F. Kirk, Returns of Aliens, etc., ibid. x.
iii. 45.

(b) James Stanier, merchant, married 1638; buried in north
aisle of Great St. Helen's.

(c) Samuel Stanier, merchant of Bishopsgate and Wanstead,
Essex, alderman; knighted as sheriff 1705, Lord Mayor 1716;
colonel of the Blue Regt. of Militia; buried at Great St. Helen's.

(d) Daniel Porten, merchant of St. Catherine Cree. No doubt
also of German or Dutch origin. Godfrey Porten, butcher,
'borne under the Duke of Cleve', was a free denizen of some
twenty years' standing at the end of the sixteenth century. He
married an Englishwoman and had three children, Roger, Abram
and Isaac. There is some probability that Daniel rorten was
connected with him. For Godfrey Porten and many others of
the name see Kirk's Returns of Alten$> Hug. Soc. Lon. x. i. 307,
317, ii. 78, 189, 277, iii. 392, and Index in pt. iv. sub nomine.
The name is often spelt Porteen and Portaine and should be
pronounced with the last syllable stressed.

(*) Francis Porten, alderman, knighted as sheriff 1725-6;
Director of the Bank of England, left money to the poor of St.
Andrew Undershaft.

() James Porten, merchant, Lieut.-Col. the Blue Regt. of
Militia; buried at Putney.

(g) Stanier Porten, b. 26th June I7i6(?); m. Mary Wybault,
29th December i?74> d. 7th June 1789, and was buried at
Putney. Consul-General Madrid 1760; secretary diplomatic

357

EDWARD GIBBON

mission to France 1766; Under-Secretary of State 1768-82;
knighted 1772; Keeper of the King's Records 1774? Commis-
sioner of Customs 1782-87. SeeD.N.B. His wife (1737-1 8 19)
was d. of James Wybault, engineer -ordinary to the King's
Ordnance, and Governor of St. John's, Newfoundland.

(h) Catherine Porten, b. 6th December 1705, d. 23rd April
1706, and was buried at Putney.

(i) Robert Darrell, m. Mary Porten at Putney 1 7th December
1 724. His sons Robert and Edward Darrell are often mentioned
by Gibbon, chiefly over business; Edward was one of his
executors.

(k) Judith Porten, date of birth unknown, m. Edward Gibbon
by licence 3rd June 1736 at St. Christopher-le-Stocks; d. 23rd
February 1 747.

358

Appendix III
THE CLUB

THE following table is compiled from information in Sir
M. E. G. Duffs The Club, 1764-1905, 2nd edition:

Year and Number of Dinners

'75,
6

'7**

15

'77>
15

'7.

15

'79,
18

'80,
18

'8 1,
16

'82,

16

'*3,
18

'84,*
18

'87,
15

'88,
15

Total

Reynolds
Gibbon
Johnson
Boswell
Fox
Smith .
Garrick .
Burke .
Sheridan
Malone .

6
6

2
2
2
I

14
H

3

2

1

4
i

12

8
3

!

4
6

12

8

9
i

o
o

4
i
8

^7
ii

3

2

4

o

H
7

2

I

12

II
O

3

14
9
3

i
6

16
6
3
3
i
o

H

3

2
O

13
i

7
o
i

8
7

5
i

152
88
3i
2 7
17

22
12

16

21
17

2

4

I
3

o

3

8

I

O

9

i

2

* Gibbon was abroad in 1784-5-6. Johnson died 1784^

Other members of the Club in Gibbon's time: (i) Original
members Reynolds, Johnson, Burke, Nugent, Langton, Beau-
clerk, Goldsmith, Chamier. (2) Elected before Gibbon Hawkins,
Dyer, Percy, R. Chambers, Colman, Lord Charlemont, Garrick,
W. Jones, Vesey, Boswell, Fox, Sir Charles Bunbury, Fordyce,
Steevens. (3) Subsequent elections 1 7 75 : Adam Smith, Barnard.
1777: J. Warton, Sheridan, Lord Ossory, R. Marley, John
Dunning, Lord Ashburton. 1 778 : Sir Joseph Banks, W. Wind-
ham, Lord Stowell, Earl Spencer. 1780: Bishop Shipley. 1782:
E. Eliot, Gibbon's cousin 5 Malone, Thos. Warton, Lord Lucan,
R. BurJke. 1784: Sir W. Hamilton, Lord Palmerston, C
Burney, R* Warren. 1786: Macartney. 1788: J. Courtenay.
1792: J. Hinchliffe, Duke of Leeds, J. Douglas.

359

EDWARD GIBBON

In 1777 the numbers were to be limited to 26; on 27th Novem-
ber 1770 the limit was raised to 30, Three members had died,
Nugent 1776, Goldsmith 1774, and Dyer; and Hawkins had
withdrawn. On gth May 1780, at an extraordinary meeting, Sir
William Jones in the chair, the numbers were raised to 35 and
not more than 40. Gibbon supported this motion.

Down to 1783 they met at Turk's Head, Gerrard Street, then
moved to Prince's in Sackville Street; later to a place in Dover
Street, and finally to the Thatched House.

360

INDEX

ABINGTON, MRS, 294

Abrahall, Hester, see Hester Gibbon

Acciaiuoli, Contessa, 178

Acton, Catherine (Mrs Edward Gib-
bon), 9

Acton, Commodore, 182

Acton, Edward, 15

Acton, Lord, 9 n.

Acton, Richard, 9

Acton, Mrs Richard, see Hester
Gibbon

Acton, Sir Walter, 9

Acton, Sir Whitmore, marries
Catherine Gibbon, 9

Ajpiesseau, Mme d', 337

Aislabie, Mr Secretary, 6

Alaric, 182

Alembert, J. le R. d', 104, 105, 131

Allamand, Prof., 53, 67

Antinori, Mme, 178

Apples, Mme d', 165

Armitstead, Mrs, 331

Arnaud, 132

Aston, Sir Willoughby and Lady,
114, 150, 314

Augny, M. d', 133-4

Aulbonne, Mme d*, 162

BAKER, BERNARD, S.J., 44
Banks, Sir Joseph, 222, 229, 233,

316,3x8
Barazzi, 188
Barlaam, 3

Barnard, of Alresford, 113
Barnard, Thomas, Dean of Deny,

233, 251

Barthflemy, J. J., 132
Barton, Mr, 98
Batt, J. T., 245

Beauclerk, Lady Diana, 233, 294
Beauclerk, Topham, 224-5, 227 n.,

230 n., 233, 251
Beaufort, Mpns. de, 83
Beauvau, Princesse de, 260 n.
Becket, the bookseller, 102, 203

36:

Bedford, Duke of, 125, 129
Bekker, an Amsterdam divine, 23 1 n.
Bentley, Dr. Richard, 41, 287 n.,

317

Berkeley, Lord, 189
Berry, the Misses, 314
Blessington, Earl of, 48
Bletterie, J. P. R. de la, 105, 132
Blyke, Captain, 113
Bocage, Mme du, 132
Boccaccio, 3

Bochat, Mme de, 58, 153
Bolingbroke, Lord, 7, 45, 103
Bolton, Duke of, 109, in
Bondeli, Julie de, 77, 137, 139,

190

Bonstetten, Ch. V. von, 144 n.
Bontemps, Mme, 128, 134-6
Boone, Mrs, 318
Boothby, Sir William, 115
Boswell, James, 123, 204, 221-7,

229-32, 271, 3x6-17, 35
Boufflers, Chevalier de, 337
Bougainville, J. P., 206
Bougainville, L. A. de, 132
Bouillon, Princesse de, 335
Bourgeois, 166
Bourne* Vincent, 29 n.
Bowdler, Thomas, 267, 271, 345
Boyer, Mme, 133
Bramante, 186
Breitinger, Prof., 95, xox
Brenles, Mme de, 165, 192
Bridel, le doyen, 270
Brjdgewater, Duke of, 126
Brissone\ Mme de, 48
Brocklesby, Richard, 316
Budd, Edward, 2x3
BufFon, 26, 93, 132, 259, 287
Bunbury, Sir Charles, 316
Buonarotti, Michael Angelo, x8x,

186

Surges, Sir James Bland, 287-8
Burgoyne, General John, 273, 285
Burke, Edmund, 3, 222, 227 n., 229,

EDWARD GIBBON

233* *5 Z > 2 7*> 284, 294, 314, 316,

338> 346

Burnaby, Parson, 182
Burney, Charles, musician, 222,

227 n.
Burney, Dr. Charles, classical

scholar, 64
Burney, Fanny, Mme d'Arblay, 2-4,

219

Bute, Lady, 290
Byers, James, 186-7
Byrom, John, 13, 14, 15, 19-21
Byron, 310

CADELL, THOMAS, 220, 245-6, 281,

312, 317-18, 340
Calonne, C. A. de, 314
Cambis, Mme de, 260
Cambridge, Richard Owen, 219,

225

Camden, Lord, 247-8, 276
Campbell, Prof., 249
Caperonnier, 132
Caplin, 213-15, 257, 293, 298
Casaubon, Isaac, 97
Caussin, Mile, 71
Cayla, of Geneva, 138
Caylus, Comte de, 103, 126, 132
Cefcsia, Mme, 100-15 M. et Mme,

174

Chafin, Young, 122
Chamier, Anthony, 224, 227 n., 233
Chandieu Villars, M. de, 162
Charles V, Emperor, 178
Charriere, Mme de, 305-6
Charriere Bavois, Mme de, 306 n.
Chauvelin, Abbe* de, 308
Cheseaux, M. de, 154
Chesterfield, Earl of, 46, 103, 202,

218

Chetwynd, Miss, 107
Choiseul, Due de, 248, 258
Clairon, Mile, 133, 308
darges, Lady, 317
Clarke, Captain, R.N., 152
Clarke, G. JB., i n., 148, 151-4, 155,

158, 163, 240

Clive and Gosling, Messrs, 277
Cobbett, William, 258
Cole, Rev. W., 128 n.

36

Colman, George, the elder, 219, 221-

222, 227-8, 233
Colman, George, the younger, 227-

228, 234

Conington, J., 20j
Constant, Benjamin, 163, 306
Constant de Rebecque, Juste, 162-3,

166

Conway, Mr Secretary, 198 n.
Conyers, Col. and Lady Harriet,

114

Corbaz, Jacob, 151
CornwalHs, Hon. Mrs F., 'Arch-

bishopess of Canterbury', 290
Correvon, Mons., 138-9
Corsier, Mons., 152
Corsier, Mile, 153
Cowper, William, 119, 303
Cramache\ Alex., 63 n.
Craufurd, of Auchinames, 347
Crop, Mr, Mayor of Southampton,

123

Crousaz, de, 58, 67
Crousaz, Catherine, 152, 162
Crousaz de M&erjr, Mme de, see

Mme de Montoheu
Crousaz de M6zery, Benjamin de, ist

husband of Mme de Montolieu,

307
Cumberland,

Henry Frederick,

Duke, and Duchess of, 3 15
Curchod Mme (Mile Al&ert de

Nasse), 74, 85, 137
Curchod, le ministre, d. 1760, 74,

85^ J 37
Curchod, Suzanne, see Mme Necker

DAMER, sons of Lord Milton, 187 n.

Dangeau, Marquis de, 104

Darrell, Robert, 17

Davel, Major, 65-6

Davers, le Chevalier, 63 n.

Davis, H. E., 262-3

Deffand, Mme du, 251, 257-8, 260,

261 n.

De Hondt, bookseller, 203
De la Warr, Lord, 197
Delm4, Peter, 23
Denis, Mme, 70-71, 144 n.
Devonshire, Duchess of, 308
Deyvcrdun, Georges, on Mme
2

INDEX

Pavillard, 48 n.; friendship with
E. G., 58, 64, 66, 76, 126, 153-5;
a tutor, 69, 125-6, 197, 203, 2185
belongs to the Bourg, 755 E. G.
travels in his name, 83; and
Suzanne Curchod, 146-7, 164,
1 66; in England, associated with
Mm. Lit., 197-204; letters of
E. G. to, 126, 207, 245-6, 250,
295; letters to E. G., 295-8; is to
translate D. & F. but gives up,
248, 253; a philosopher, 297; with
E. G. at La Grotte, 302-5; and
Mme de Montolieu, 307; Sheffield
writes to, 312; failing health and
death, 319,^331-2, 340

Diderot, Denis, 131

Dodsley, James, 218

Douglas, Sylvester, Lord Glen-
bervie, 345-6

Duclos, Mons, 132

Dumesnil, Mile, 133

Dummer, Mr, deed., 286

Duncan, Lady Mary, 317

Dunning, John, Lord Ashburton,
222, 233

Dussaut, 347-8

EDEN, WILLIAM, Lord Auckland,
286, 292 n., 206, 340, 346

Effingham, Lord, 101, 114

Eliot* Edward, 1727-1804, cr. Lord
Eliot, 1784, 14, 46, 233, 236-8,
240, 278-9, 285, 349

Eliot, Mr, son of E. E., 283

Klkin, Sir George, 100

Elliot, Sir Gilbert, 316

Elliot, Miss, 294

EUiston, Catherine (Mrs Edward
Eliot), 13, 45, 46, 48, 240

EUiston, Mrs Edw. Catherine Gib-
bon, 9 n., 1 8

Elliston, Edward, 9 n., 13

EUiston, Mrs Hester Gibbon, 9 n.

Elmsley, Peter, bookseller, 294, 304,
346

Elys^e, Pere, 135

on, Chevalier a, .315

Erasmus, 269

Erlach, M. d', governor of Lausanne,
339

235,

Erskine, Monsignor, 346
Eyer, Capt., 122

FARQUHAR, DR., later Sir Walter,

346-8
Featherston, Sir Matthew and Lady,

123 n.

Ferguson, Adam, 249
Ficinus, Marsilius, 181
Finch, Savile, 63 n.
Fitch, Mr, 122
Fitzpatrick, Mr, Lord Ossory's

brother, 275

Foley, Mr, banker in Paris, 128
Foncemagne, M. de, 132, 259
Fontenelle, 119-22, 131
Foote, Samuel, 155, 228 n., 244
Ford, Cornelius, 213
Ford, Phoebe, 213-15, 293
Fordwich, Lord, 176
Fornerey, Mme, 164
Foster, Lady Elizabeth, 4, 300, 307-

T, 308339

Fox, Charles James, 222, 225,
273-6, 279, 282-3,

3i6> 33i

Francis, Rev. Philip, 31-2
Francois, valet, 65
Franklin, Benjamin, 258-9
Franklin, Dr. Thomas, 313
Frederick the Great, 103
Frey, Mons., 46, 49, 151
Froude, J. A., 324
Fuller, Rose, M.P., 215
Fuller, Miss, 'Sapho', 215-16

GAGE, GENERAL, 241

Galileo, 181

Galloway, Lord, 307

Garrick, David, 99, 101, 123, 219-

222, 226-7, 233, 248, 251, 255,

260, 276
Gaza, 181
Gee, Mr, 54-7

Genlis, Mme de, 260, 307-9, 337
Geofirin, Mme, 126, 129-31
George III, 282, 315 n.
Germaine, Lord George, 238, 254-5*

283

Gesner, 95
Gianni, Mme, 178

363

EDWARD GIBBON

Gibbon, family, 6 sqq., 353
Gibbon, Catherine, n/e Acton, wife

of E* G. L, 9
Gibbon, Catherine, see Mrs Edward

Elliston

Gibbon, Catherine, Lady Acton, 9
Gibbon, Mrs, Dorothea Patton, the

historian's stepmother, d. 1796, 3 1,

59> 8 3> 84* 9> 9 2 97-i> H3>
122, 126, 136, 144, 145 n., 183,
188, 194-5, 208-10, 212 n., 215,

220, 238-9, 242, 255-6, 277-8, 283-

284, 296-7, 301, 312, 318, 344,

350

Gibbon, Edward, I (1675-1736), the
historian's grandfather, 6-10, 16-
19, 21 n., 95 n.

Gibbon, Edward, II (1707-70), the
historian's father, the Major, 10,
12, 23, 28-9, 31-2, 35, 39 n.,
44-6, 48-51, 54, 56, 57-9; letters
to his son, 60, 6 1, 63, 76, 81, 83,
87-90, 92-4, 97-9, 106-11, 113-15*
117, 122, 125-6, 136, 159-61, 183,
187-8, 194-7, 207

Gibbon, Edward, III, 1737-94, the
historian

1737, born at Putney, 27th April
(O.S.), 215 ailing childhood, 24
sqq.
1744, taught by Kirkby, 27

1746, Kingston Grammar School,
27

1747, reads in J. Porten's library,
28-9

1748, enters Westminster School,
285 attends little further, 31

1748-52, ill health, tutored by

Francis and 'carried about* by

his father, 28-36
1752-3, April, enters at Oxford,

conversion to Rome, 37-46
1753-8, in residence in TJangann^

47-72

1757, meets Suzanne Curchod,
74 sqq.

1758, 4th May, returns to Eng-
land, 83

1759, 23rd February, writes letter
of renunciation to S. C., 87 sqq.

1758-60, lives at home, 92-105

364

1760-62, serves with Militia, 106-
127

1763, visits Paris and returns to
Lausanne, 128 - 36, 141 - 685
meets Holroyd, 155; meets S. C.
again, 144, 164-7

1764-5, tours in Italy, 169-905 in
Florence, 176-825 in Rome,
183-75 Naples, 1895 Venice, 1905
returns by Paris and received by
S. C., now Mme Necker, 192-3

1765-70, lives mainly at Buriton,
194 sqq.; begins Swiss history,
199; corresponds with and
meets Hume, 198 sqq.; Mtmoires
Litttraires, 201 sqq.; attacks
Warburton, 204-5; succeeds to
estates on E. G. Irs death, 207,
208

1770-72, 'Farmer Gibbon', 208-12

1773-83, established in Bentinck
St., 212 sqq. passim; contacts
with literary society, 219-20

*774> joins the Club, relations with
Johnson, Boswell, etc., 221-35,
and 316-17,360

1774-80, M.P. for Liskeard, sup-
ports Lord N.'s Govt., 236-
243

1776, publishes D. Sf JR., vol. i.,
244 sqq.; entertains the Neckers
in London, 252

1777, revisits Paris, 252 sqq^
1779, publishes A Vindication, 262

Sqq '

1779, wavers in support of Govt.,

273-6; private embarrassments,
277-8; appointed Lord of Trade,
278; writes Mim. Just., 281;
attacked by pamphlet, 283

1780, threatened by Burke's re-
form bill, 284; not renominated
for Liskeard, 285

1781, M.P. for Lymingtpn, 286;
publishes vols. li. and iii., 289-
290

1782, loses office, 291; leisure and
prospects, 292-5

1783, decides to join Deyverdun
in Tamannr, 295-8

1783-7, completes D. &f F. in

INDEX

Lausanne, and returns to Eng-
land, 299-311

1787-8, in England, 312 ^.5
publishes last 3 vols., 8th May
17885 complimented by Sheri-
dan in Westminster Hall, 318;

" leaves for Lausanne, 319

1788, visited by Fox, 331

1789, Deyverdun dies, 3325 E. G.
lives on at La Grotte, 332 sqq.

1791, visited by the Sheffields, 334
sqq.$ "The King of the Place",

1792, disturbed by French Re-
volution, 3385 considers further
literary projects, 340-41

1793, death of Lady Sheffield, 3rd
April, 3435 E. G. leaves Lau-
sanne loth May, 343; spends
summer at Sheffield Place, etc.,

344

1704, in failing health, 344-6$ krt
illness and death, i6th January,
346-85 funeral and will, 349-50

Works by Autobiography or
Memoirs, 7 sqq., n, 13? 2 5~ 6 >
32 n., 48, 184, 201, 222-3, 2 45?
259, 3415 Critical Observations
on Aeneid PI, 204-55 The De-
cline and Fall, i, 3, 35, 93* *73>
181, 203, 206, 217 sqq., 223,
233 n.5 Vol. I, 245 sqq.; Vol. II,
begun, 253, 259 n., 262-725
Vols. II-III, 289-90, 311, 312;
Vols. IV-VI, published, 317,
320-30, 338, 3415 UEssai, 102-
105, ii3> "67 *3> *4i> aoi,
2035 Journal, 75, 107 sag* m>
117-25, 12%-%$ passim; History of
Swiss Liberty, 1995 Letters by,
34, 61, 77-91? 93 "8, 183, 215,
237, 240, 245, 246^., 279, 281,
296, 3115 Mfmoire Justificatif,
2815 Mfmoires Litteraires, 201
sqq.\ Monarchie des Medes, 206,
3285 Nomina Gentesque Italiae,
1695 Vindication, 262-3
Authors and books read by or
mentioned in connexion with,
see also General Index Addi-
son, 965 Ammianus, 3215 Arab"

3 6 5

ian Nights, 26, 355 Arbuthnot,
965 Aristotle, 2685 ^ Attic
dramatists, 2945 Augustine, b.
of Hippo, 321; Barclay, Argenis,
119; Baretti, 2045 Beausobre,
1185 Bernard, 965 Bossuet, 43,
5 1 n. ; Boswell, Corsica 204, John-
son 222 sqq., Hypochondriack
232 n.5 BuAe, 1185 Burney,
Evelina 25 Busbequius, 127;
Cicero, 37, 103, 117, 191, 3^5
Chesterfield, Letters, 2185 Chil-
lingworth, 385 Chrysostom, 375
Clarendon, 2985 D'Aulnoy, 345
Dryden, Pirgil 35, translations
from Horace 1135 Eachard, 335
Eissenschmidt, 965 Ferguson,
A., Civil Society; Fontenefle, 119
sqq.$ Freret, 965 Giannone, 535
Gray, T., 305 Greaves, 965
Gronovius, 965 Grotius, 985
d'Herbelot, 32, 38, 635 Hero-
dotus, 63, 327 sqq.$ Homer, 63,
96, 116-17, 124, 294, 298, 325,
3285 Hooper, 965 Horace, 113,
1 1 8, 1755 Inscriptions, Acadtmie
des, 955 Jenyns Soame, 1155
Johnson, Lives 250, Shakespeare
223, Irene 223; Junius, 205,
256 n. 5 La Barre, 965 La Fon-
taine, 13^5 Lardner, 2035 Lava-
ter, Pkystognomie, 3375 Law, W.,
A Serious Call, 1 1 sqq., 215 Livy,
965 Lyttelton, Henry II, 2035
Middleton, C., 41? Mercier*
3005 Montolieu, Caroline de
Lichtfeld, 3075 Museum Hetoeti-
cum, 1015 Nardini, 146, 184 n.$
Ovid, Sandys', 355 Oldys,
Raleigh, 118; Pkto, 2945 Po-
cocke, 32, 36; Pope, 26, 35, 3255
Prideaux, 365 Raynal, Histoire
des Indes, 3005 Scaliger, 35;
Steme, Worts, 204; Strabo, 1175
Swift, 965 Tacitus, 318, 321;
Terence, 32, 385 Thomson, Sea-
sons, 1355 Tfllemont, 3295 Vol-
taire, Louis XI7 39, 1195 Zaire
70, 166, 305, Merope 119,
Orphan of China 1445 Virgil,
755 Walpole, Herbert of C., His-

EDWARD GIBBON

toric Doubts 203, Modern Gar*
dening 2505 Warburton, Divine
Legation, 204; Xenophon, 63
Gibbon, Hester, nte Abrahall, later

Mrs Richard Acton, 8-9, 354
Gibbon, Hester, Mrs Elliston, 9 n.
Gibbon, Hester, *The Saint', 10, 12,

13, 18-19, 2I - 2 > 45-6 269* 3i>

334
Gibbon, Judith, ne'e Porten, the

historian's mother, d. 1746, 16-18,

20-24, 28

Gibbon, Matthew, 8-9, 354
Gibbon, Matthew, son of E. G. I,

9 n., 19 n.
Gibbon, Thomas, Dean of Carlisle,

8, 9n.

Gibbon, Williams, 19
Gibbon, historian's infant brothers

and sister, 24
Gloucester, William Henry, Duke of,

Goldsmith, Oliver, 123, 219-22

Golovkin, Count, 150

Gordon, Lord George, 287

Gould, Ensign, 241

Granby, Marquis of, 155

Grand, Major, 152, 156

Grafton, Duke or, 190

Gray, T., 250^

Green of Ipswich, Mr, 205

Grotius, 98

Guignes, M. de, 132

Guise, William, 148, 151-4, 155-8,

163* 165* 169-70, 174, 177, 180,

189-90, 195
Guizot, 234

j ENSIGN, 116
Hamilton, Anthony, Count, 103,

130

Hamilton, Mr (Sir William), 189
Hamilton, W. G., 'Single-speech',

294

Harrison, John Butler, no, 124, 153
Hastings, Warren, 318
Hatfield, Charles, 176
Hatsel, 176

Hatton, iht Misses Finch, 22
Haussonville, Comte d', 82
Hawke, Admiral, 108

Hayley, 2, 28 n., 205, 317

Hayley, Mrs, 294

Helvettus, 131, 133

Henin, Princesse d', 335

Hennanches, Mme d', 162, 164

Hervey, Lady, 101-2, 126

Heydinger, 203

Heyne, 205

Higgins, Bryan, chemist, 255

Hill, G. Birkbeck, 134

Hoare, Mr, of Stourhead, 33

Holbach, Baron d', .131

Holroyd, Mrs, Abigail Way, Lady
Sheffield, 197, 211, 215, 218, 270,
287-8, 297-8, 306, 314, 318-19,

337> 34^, 349

Holroyd, John Baker, ist Lord Shef-
field, 1735-1821, on Walton por-
trait, i ; as editor of E. G.'s papers,
7n., ii, 136, 201, 3505 meets
E. G., 155; his character, 157-9$
growth of friendship in Lausanne,
161, 163, 1665 in Rome, 1875 in
England, 1975 becomes Gibbon's
adviser, 210-12, 214-165 intro-
duces Cambridge, 219; a Tory,
242$ called "Sir Wilful', 2575 at
Lincoln's Inn, 287; cr. Lord Shef-
field, 2885 opposed to E. G.'s
retirement, 296-7; portrait by
Reynolds, 331; manages E. G. s
affairs, 334; visits Lausanne, 335;
calls E. G. names, 334, 3425 con-
cern for E. G., 347; buries E. G.
at Fletching, 349; mentioned, 235,
254, 274-6, 292, 301, 307, 314,
318-19, 342, 344; letters of E. G.
to, 25, 173, 192, 236-7, 240, 245,
252, 310, 340-415 letters of, 1615
to Deyverdun, 312

Holroyd, John William, 'Datch',
211

Holroyd, Louisa, 212

Holroyd, Maria Josepha, 212, 234,
289, 306-7, 335, 338, 344-6, 349-

35

Home, John, 219
Howard, Charles, 101
Howe, Lord, 273
Huber, Jean, 304
Hugonin, Mr, 59

INDEX

Hume, David, 97, 101, 118, 198-201,
203, 230, 232, 246-7, 249, 257,
261, 264-5, 3 2

Hunter, John, 255-6

Huntingtower, Lord, 30, 48, 153

Hutcheson, Mrs, 21-2

Hutchinson, Thomas, Governor of
Massachusetts Bay, 239-41

ILLENS, COUNCILLOR DE, 152

niens, Marianne de, 154

fllens, Nanette de, 157, 163, 166-7,

193
Inge, Dr. W. R., 271

JENGHIZ KHAN, 182

Jenyns, Soame, 115

Jesus, 269

Johnson, Samuel, 84, 102, 123, 204,

213-14, 220-34, 250, 271, 313*

325 n.

Johnson, Governor, 275
Jolliffe, John, 'King of Petersfield',

23, 113

Jones, Sir William, 222, 230 n., 233
Joseph II, Emperor, 258
Julian, Emperor, 53, 261, 299, 329
Julius II, Pope, 1 86

KEMBLE, J. P., 314
Kirkby, Rev. John, 27
Kneller, Mr, 1 1 1

LA. CONDAMINE, C. M. DE, 132

Langrish, Dr., 31

Langton, Bennet, 224, 227 n., 316

La Popeliniere, A. J, J. Le Riche de,

132

Laroche, Sophie, 336
Lascaris, 181
Laurens, Henry, 298
Law, John, 68
Law, William, 10-16, 18-22, 27, 33,

T <

Lee, Jack, 316

Leibnitz, 103
Leo X, Pope, 186
Le Sage, G. L., 139, 191
Levade, David, 337
Lewis, John, 43, 44 n-

Lichfield, Lord, 136
Li6ge, Bishop of, 129
Locke, John, 43, 61
Louis XVI, 342
Louth, Bishop, 95
Lovibond, Edward, 28 n.
Lucan, Lady, 290, 347
Lucan, Lord, 233, 316, 346-7
Lyttelton, Thomas, and Lord (the
wicked L.), 179

MABLY, 259, 287

Macartney, George, ist Earl of, 316

Macpherson, James, 'Ossian', 219,

283

Macpherson, Sir John, 336-7
Mallet, David, 45-6, 50, 96, 101-2,

208, 222

Malmesbury, Lord, 6
Malone, Edmund, 157 n., 223, 231,

234, 251, 316, 346, 349
Mandevule, Bernard, 105
Mann, Sir Horace, 176-9
Manners, Capt. Edward, 2ist Light

Dragoons, 152, 155-6, 158, 166
Mannontel, 287
Mason, William, 249, 289
Mathieu, Swiss surgeon, 304
Matthisson, Friedrich, 2
Maty, Dr. Matthew, 102, 126, 202
Mauduit, Isaac, 240
Mead, Dr. Richard, 26
Medici, Cosimo dei, 178
Medici, Lorenzo dei, 181
Meighan, tailor in Rome, 187
Mercier, 300
Mfeery, Mme. de, 150
M&ery, Mons. Henri de, 141, 149-

i<o, 155, 169
Middleton, Conyers, 40-41, 121-

264

Miller, Lady, of Batheaston, 294
Minorbetti, Mme, 178
Mirabeau, Marquis de, 128, 134-5
Mirandola, Pico della, 181
Molesworth, Mr, 43 n.
Monboddo, Lord, 316
Montagny, M. de, 332
Montagu, Mrs, 235
Montesquieu, 103, 104, 131
Montesquiou, 338-9

367

EDWARD GIBBON

Montolieu, Mme de, Jeanne Pauline

Polier de Bottens, 52 n., 306-8
Montplaisir, M. de, 89 n., 139, 146-

147
Moore, Edward, Earl of Drogheda,

63 n.

More, Hannah, 226-7, 2 5*> 349
Morel, Mme, 46 n.
Mostyn, Roger, 63 n.
Moultou, Paul, 138-40, 142, 144 n.,

191-2

NANTOUILLET, MME DE, 308

Napoleon I, 13 j

Narbonne, Louis de, 339-40

Nardini, 184 n.

Necker, Jacques, 191, 216, 252, 305,
338

Necker, Mme, Suzanne Curchod, 33,
73-82, 84-91, 107, 137-48, 164-8,
190-93, 252-3, 256-7, 260, 305,

3S5-& 339> 343> 349
Nettleship, R. L., 205
Nichols, John, 318,* 340
Nivernois, Due de, 100, 126
North, Lord, Fred., 2nd Earl of

Guiiford, 242, 274, 276, 283, 286,

291-3, 299, 314, 319
North, Fred. 5th Earl of Guiiford,

Northcote, James, 220
Nuneham, Lord, 39

OLD PRETENDER, 129

Ossory, Lady, 290

Ossory, Lord, John Fitzpatrick, 2nd

Earl of Upper Ossory, 126, 179,

*33> 275-6, 314

PAGE, the Misses, 107
Paley, William, 271
Palmerston, Henry Temple, 2nd
Lord, 155, 158, 179, 233, 251
Paoli, P., 204
Parker, Daniel, 38 n.
Parr, Samuel, 64, 157 n., 316, 349
Parry, Capt., 176

Patton, David, 92 n.

Patton, Dorothea, see Mrs Gibbon,

the historian's stepmother
Patton, Will, 92 n.
Paul of Tarsus, 300
Pavillard, Rev. Daniel, 46, 47-52,

54> 55> 57-9> *3> *5 7* "> 149?
157, 163, 164
Pavillard, Mme, 47, 48 n., 49, 58,

92

Pelham, Lady, 216
Pelham, Lord, 345
Pelletier, J., 132
Pembroke, Lord, 251
Percy, Dr. Thomas, 222, 224, 227

n., 230 n.
Petrarch, 3
Phelps, Major, 114
Philidor, 235
Pinkerton, John, 345
Pitt, Colonel, 115
Pitt, Mary, washerwoman, 297
Pitt, William, 287-8, 299, 334, 346
Pleydwell, Mr, 123
Polier, Col., 339
Polier de Bottens, le grand ministre,

52,70

Polier, La Chanoinesse de, 347
Politian, 181
Ponsonby, 176
Pope, Alexander, 26, 67
Porson, Richard, 64, 317
Porten, family, 16-17, 357
Porten, Catherine, 'Aunt Kitty', 18,

24-6, 29, 55, 59, 83, 100, 126, 215,

217, 238, 244, 269 -
Porten, Charlotte, 332, 349, 356
Porten, Judith, see Mrs Edward

Gibbon

Porten, James, 17, 28 andn.
Porten, Lady (Mary Wybault), 333
Porten, Mary, see Mrs Robert

Darrell, 17
Porten, Sir Stanier (1716-1789), 198

and n., 210, 217, 254, 332, 357-8
Porten, Rev. Stanier James, 349,

35^
Porteous, Dr. Bettby, 255

1 The N, referred to on p. 318 may possibly be Gray's friend, the Rev. Norton
Nichols, who was a visitor at Sheffield Place.

368

INDEX

Portland, Duke of, 292
Pretender, the, 50
Priestley, Dr. Joseph, 264-5
Pritchard, Mrs, 71

RAMSAY, ANDREW MICHAEL, 130

Raphael, 181, 186, 187

Raynal, J., 132, 300 ^

Read, General Meredith, 141, 217

Reusse XIII, of Offenbach, 344

Reynolds, Sir Joshua, i, 2, 4, 123,

158, 220-27, 230 n., 233, 281, 294,

313-14, 317
Reynolds, Miss, 316
Richelieu, Due de, 113
Richmond, Duke of, 125, 129, 2735

Duchess, 314
Ridley, Major, 166
Roach, Miss, 100
Robertson, J. M., 105, 143, 287-8
Robertson, William, 97, 118, 246-9,

253, 320

Rochford, Lord, 198 n.
Roddngham, Marquess of, 291
Romney, George, 2
Rousseau, J. J., 132, 137-40* i4*-3>

148, 159, 198, 232, 318
Routh, Dr., 38
Rubens, P. P., 181

SACHLI, MMB, 165

Sainte-Beuve, 95

St. Cierge, Mme de, 162

St. Gilles, Mme de, 172

Ste. Palaye, 132

Salis, de, 152, 166

Saucourt, M. de, 340

Saussure, Victor de, 151-5? 215

Savfle, Sir George, 114

Schavedt, Margrave of, 197

Scott, G. L., 262

Scott, James, 196, 209 n., 210, 277

Seigneux, Mme, 'La Petite Femme*,

163-7, 33*

SeptchSnes, M. de, 254
S6very, Mme de (Catherine de Chan-

dieu Villars), 162, 305, 313, 318,

33*-3> 337 343-4
Svery, Salomon de, 304-5, 313, 335,

337> 34^

369

S6very, Wilhelm de, 309, 313-19*

335> 344? 349

Shaftesbury, 3rd Earl of, 26
Shaftesbury, Lord, 122
Sheffield, Lady, see Mrs J. B.

Holroyd
Sheffield, Lord, see John Baker

Holroyd

Shelburne, Lord, 291-2
Sheridan, R.B., 222, 276, 316-18
Shipley, Jonathan, bishop of St.

Asaph, 227
Siddons, Mrs, 314
Sidney, 151-3
Silva, Mme de, 336-7, 347
Sixtus V, Pope, 1 86
Sloane, Dr. Hans, 26
Smith, Adam, 222, 227 n., 229-30,

232-3, 256, 320 n.
Smith, Dr. Alex., Professor of

Anatomy, 230
Smith, Ensign, 115
Southwell, Mr, Mrs and Master,

34

Spencer, Earl, 233
Spencer, Lady, 347
Spencer, Lord Robert, 251
Spencer, 5
Stafil, Mme de, Germaine Necker,

252, 260, 305, 339-40, 349
Stanhope, Philip, 46
Stanhope, Philip, 5th Earl of

Chesterfield, 202
Stanier, family of, 16-17, 357
Steevens, George, 28 n., 221-2, 224,

3 i6

Sterne, Laurence, 266

Storer, Anthony, 282 n., 292, 299

Stonnont, Lord, 314

Strahan, Andrew, 246, 249, 312

Suard, J. B., 4, 132, 248, 253

Suess, a valet, 128

Sunderland, 6

Swinburne, Henry, 180 n.

TAVISTOCK, LORD, 126
Taylor, the Chevalier, 26
Temple, Rev. W. J., 229
Temple, Sir William, 103
Tennyson, 234
Tew, Rev. Edmund, 18

EDWARD GIBBON

Texier, 314

Thompson, Benjamin, Count Rum-
ford, 298

Thomson, James, 135
Thrale, Mr, 227 n.
Thrale, Mrs, 230, 231 n.
Thurlow, Edward, Lord, 27$
Tjllemont, Le Nain de, 266, 329
Tissot, Dr., 4
Tollendal, Lally, 343
Tracy, Lord and Lady, 114
Traytorrens, Prof, de, 63, 75
Trtvelyan, G. M., 281
Tronchin, Dr., 191
Tuscany, Grand Duke of, 177

VALLIERE, MLLE DE LA, 133
Vandeleur, Crofton, 63 n.
Verdelin, Mme de, 132, 139-40,

142

Vennenoux, Mme de, 191
Veronese, Paul, 180-81
Vesey, A.gmondesham, 222
Voltaire, 65, 70-72, 75, 76, 106-7,

119-20, 144, 166, 232, 264-5, 308,

318

WAKEFIBLD, GILBERT, 28 n.
Waldegrave, Dr., 32 n., 38-9
Wales, George, Prince of, 295, 318
Wallace, Prof., 249
Walpole, Horace, 23, 118, 202-3,
247-51, 258, 274, 289-90, 323,

347 n-

Walpole, Sir Robert, 23

Walton, Henry, i

Warburton, W., Bishop of Glou-
cester, 105, 205

Ward, Colonel, 241

Ward, Joshua, 26, 31, 59

Warton, Joseph, 316

Warton, Thomas, 222, 231

Watson, Dr. Richard, B. of Llan-
daff, 255, 263

Wedderburn, Alexander, Lord
Loughborough (1733-1805), soli-
citor - general *77i attorney -
general 1778, chief-justice 1780
1793, lord chancellor 1793-1802,
cr. Lord L. 1780, Earl of Rosslyn
1801, 219, 235, 242, 275, 278, 283,
288, 292, 294, 314, 346

Wentworth, Lord, 235 n.

Wesley, Charles, 12

Wesley, John, 12

Weymouth, Lord, 198 n., 281

Whitaker, John, 224

Wilberforce, William, 283

Wilbraham, G., i n.

Wilkes, John, 116, 204

Williams, Gilly, 346

Winchester, Dr., 39

Windham, William, 316

Wooddesdon, Dr., 24, 27-8, 32 n.

Worsley, Sir Richard, 203

Worsley, Sir Thomas, no, in,
116-17, 122-3

Wraxall, Sir N. W., 235

Wuest, Mons., 155

Wufflens, Mile de, 162

Wyatt, James, 159

YORK, EDWARD AUGUSTUS, Duke

of, d. 1767, 113-15, 174, 315 n.
Young, Arthur, 345

Printed in. Great Sriinm fy R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, Edinburgh

1 09 537