LITERARY SCHEMES.--THE HISTORY OF SWITZERLAND.--DISSERTATION ON THE
SIXTH ÆNEID.--FATHER'S DEATH.--SETTLEMENT IN LONDON.
Gibbon now (June, 1765) returned to his father's house, and remained
there till the latter's death in 1770. He describes these five years
as having been the least pleasant and satisfactory of his whole life.
The reasons were not far to seek. The unthrifty habits of the elder
Gibbon were now producing their natural result. He was saddled with
debt, from which two mortgages, readily consented to by his son, and
the sale of the house at Putney, only partially relieved him. Gibbon
now began to fear that he had an old age of poverty before him. He had
pursued knowledge with single-hearted loyalty and now became aware
that from a worldly point of view knowledge is not often a profitable
investment. A more dejecting discovery cannot be made by the sincere
scholar. He is conscious of labour and protracted effort, which the
prosperous professional man and tradesman who pass him on their road
to wealth with a smile of scornful pity have never known. He has
forsaken comparatively all for knowledge, and the busy world meets him
with a blank stare, and surmises shrewdly that he is but an idler,
with an odd taste for wasting his time over books. It says much for
Gibbon's robustness of spirit that he did not break down in these
trying years, that he did not weakly take fright at his prospect, and
make hasty and violent efforts to mend it. On the contrary, he
remained steadfast and true to the things of the mind. With diminished
cheerfulness perhaps, but with no abatement of zeal, he pursued his
course and his studies, thereby proving that he belonged to the select
class of the strong and worthy who, penetrated with the loveliness of
science, will not be turned away from it.
His first effort to redeem the time was a project of a history of
Switzerland. His choice was decided by two circumstances: (1) his love
for a country which he had made his own by adoption; (2) by the fact
that he had in his friend Deyverdun, a fellow-worker who could render
him most valuable assistance. Gibbon never knew German, which is not
surprising when we reflect what German literature amounted to, in
those days; and he soon discovered that the most valuable authorities
of his projected work were in the German language. But Deyverdun was a
perfect master of that tongue, and translated a mass of documents for
the use of his friend. They laboured for two years in collecting
materials, before Gibbon felt himself justified in entering on the
"more agreeable task of composition." And even then he considered the
preparation insufficient, as no doubt it was. He felt he could not do
justice to his subject; uninformed as he was "by the scholars and
statesmen, and remote from the archives and libraries of the Swiss
republic." Such a beginning was not of good augury for the success of
the undertaking. He never wrote more than about sixty quarto pages of
the projected work, and these, as they were in French, were submitted
to the judgment of a literary society of foreigners in London, before
whom the MS. was read. The author was unknown, and Gibbon attended the
meeting, and thus listened without being observed "to the free
strictures and unfavourable sentence of his judges." He admits that
the momentary sensation was painful; but the condemnation was ratified
by his cooler thoughts: and he declares that he did not regret the
loss of a slight and superficial essay, though it "had cost some
expense, much labour, and more time." He says in his Memoirs that he
burnt the sheets. But this, strange to say, was a mistake on his part.
They were found among his papers after his death, and though not
published by Lord Sheffield in the first two volumes of his
Miscellaneous Works, which the latter edited in 1796, they appeared in
the supplemental third volume which came out in 1815. We thus can
judge for ourselves of their value. One sees at once why and how they
failed to satisfy their author's mature judgment. They belong to that
style of historical writing which consists in the rhetorical
transcription and adornment of the original authorities, but in which
the writer never gets close enough to his subject to apply the
touchstone of a clear and trenchant criticism. Such criticism indeed
was not common in Switzerland in his day, and one cannot blame Gibbon
for not anticipating the researches of modern investigators. But his
historical sense was aroused to suspicion by the story of William
Tell, which he boldly sets down as a fable. Altogether, one may
pronounce the sketch to be pleasantly written in a flowing,
picturesque narrative, and showing immense advance in style beyond the
essay on the Study of Literature. David Hume, to whom he submitted
it, urged him to persevere, and the advice was justified under the
circumstances, although one cannot now regret that it was not
followed.
After the failure of this scheme Gibbon, still in connection with
Deyverdun, planned a periodical work under the title of _Mémoires
Littéraires de la Grande Bretagne_. Only two volumes ever appeared,
and the speculation does not seem to have met with much success.
Gibbon "presumes to say that their merit was superior to their
reputation, though they produced more reputation than emolument." The
first volume is executed with evident pains, and gives a fair picture
of the literary and social condition of England at the time. The heavy
review articles are interspersed with what is intended to be lighter
matter on the fashions, foibles, and prominent characters of the day.
Gibbon owns the authorship of the first article on Lord Lyttelton's
history of Henry the Second, and his hand is discernible in the
account of the fourth volume of Lardner's work _On the Credibility of
the Gospel History_. The first has no merit beyond a faithful report.
The latter is written with much more zest and vigour, and shows the
interest that he already took in Christian antiquities. Other
articles, evidently from the pen of Deyverdun, on the English theatre
and Beau Nash of Bath, are the liveliest in the collection. The
magazine was avowedly intended for Continental readers, and might have
obtained success if it had been continued long enough. But it died
before it had time to make itself known.[6]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 6: Two volumes appeared of the _Mémoires Littéraires_. Of
these only the first is to be found in the British Museum. It is a
small 12mo, containing 230 pages. Here is the Table des
Matières:--(1) Histoire de Henri II., par Milord Lyttelton; (2) Le
Nouveau Guide de Bath; (3) Essai sur l'Histoire de la Société Civile,
par M. Ferguson; (4) Conclusions des Mémoires de Miss Sydney Bidulph;
Théologie (5) Recueil des Témoignages Anciens, par Lardner; (6) Le
Confessional; (7) Transactions Philosophiques; (8) Le Gouverneur, par
D. L. F. Spectacles, Beaux Arts, Nouvelles Littéraires.]
When the _Mémoires Littéraires_ collapsed Gibbon was again left
without a definite object to concentrate his energy, and with his work
still to seek. One might wonder why he did not seriously prepare for
the _Decline and Fall_. It must have been chiefly at this time that it
was "contemplated at an awful distance," perhaps even with numbing
doubt whether the distance would ever be lessened and the work
achieved, or even begun. The probability is he had too little peace of
mind to undertake anything that required calm and protracted labour.
"While so many of my acquaintance were married, or in Parliament, or
advancing with a rapid step in the various roads of honour or fortune
I stood alone, immovable, and insignificant.... The progress and the
knowledge of our domestic disorders aggravated my anxiety, and I began
to apprehend that in my old age I might be left without the fruits of
either industry or inheritance." Perhaps a reasonable apprehension of
poverty is more paralysing than the reality. In the latter case prompt
action is so imperatively commanded that the mind has no leisure for
the fatal indulgence of regrets; but when indigence seems only
imminent, and has not yet arrived, a certain lethargy is apt to be
produced out of which only the most practical characters can rouse
themselves, and these are not, as a rule, scholars by nature. We need
not be surprised that Gibbon during these years did nothing serious,
and postponed undertaking his great work. The inspiration needed to
accomplish such a long and arduous course as it implied could not be
kindled in a mind harassed by pecuniary cares. The fervent heat of a
poet's imagination may glow as brightly in poverty as in opulence, but
the gentle yet prolonged enthusiasm of the historian is likely to be
quenched when the resources of life are too insecure.[7]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 7: Scholarship has been frequently cultivated amidst great
poverty; but from the time of Thucydides, the owner of mines, to
Grote, the banker, historians seem to have been in, at least, easy
circumstances.]
It is perhaps not wholly fanciful to suspect that Gibbon's next
literary effort was suggested and determined by the inward
discomposure he felt at this time. By nature he was not a
controversialist; not that he wanted the abilities to support that
character, but his mind was too full, fertile, and fond of real
knowledge to take much pleasure in the generally barren occupation of
gainsaying other men. But at this point in his life he made an
exception, and an unprovoked exception. When he wrote his famous
vindication of the first volume of the _Decline and Fall_ he was
acting in self-defence, and repelling savage attacks upon his
historical veracity. But in his _Critical Observations on the Sixth
Book of the Æneid_ he sought controversy for its own sake, and became
a polemic--shall we say out of gaiety or bitterness of heart? That
inward unrest easily produces an aggressive 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. Be
that as it may, his _Observations_ are the most pungent and dashing
effusion he ever allowed himself. It was his first effort in English
prose, and it is doubtful whether he ever managed his mother tongue
better, if indeed he ever managed it so well. The little tract is
written with singular spirit and rapidity of style. It is clear,
trenchant, and direct to a fault. It is indeed far less critical than
polemical, and shows no trace of lofty calm, either moral or
intellectual. We are not repelled much by his eagerness to refute and
maltreat his opponent. That was not alien from the usages of the time,
and Warburton at least had no right to complain of such a style of
controversy. But there is no width and elevation of view. The writer
does not carry the discussion up to a higher level, and dominate his
adversary from a superior standpoint. Controversy is always ephemeral
and vulgar, unless it can rise to the discussion and establishment of
facts and principles valuable for themselves, independently of the
particular point at issue. It is this quality which has made the
master-works of Chillingworth and Bentley supereminent. The particular
point for which the writers contended is settled or forgotten. But in
moving up to that point they touched--such was their large discourse
of reason--on topics of perennial interest, did such justice, though
only in passing, to certain other truths, that they are gratefully
remembered ever after. Thus Bentley's dissertation on Phalaris is
read, not for the main thesis--proof of the spuriousness of the
letters--but for the profound knowledge and admirable logic with which
subsidiary positions are maintained on the way to it. Tried by this
standard, and he deserves to be tried by a high standard, Gibbon fails
not much, but entirely. The _Observations_ are rarely, if ever,
quoted as an authority of weight by any one engaged on classical or
Virgilian literature. This arises from the attitude of the writer, who
is nearly solely occupied with establishing negative conclusions that
Æneas was _not_ a lawgiver, that the Sixth Æneid is _not_ an allegory,
that Virgil had _not_ been initiated in the Eleusinian mysteries when
he wrote it, and so forth. Indeed the best judges now hold that he has
not done full justice to the grain of truth that was to be found in
Warburton's clumsy and prolix hypothesis.[8] It should be added that
Gibbon very candidly admits and regrets the acrimonious style of the
pamphlet, and condemns still more "in a personal attack his cowardly
concealment of his name and character."
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 8: Conington, _Introduction to the Sixth Æneid_. "A reader
of the present day will, I think, be induced to award the palm of
learning and ingenuity to Warburton." "The language and imagery of the
sixth book more than once suggest that Virgil intended to embody in
his picture the poetical view of that inner side of ancient religion
which the mysteries may be supposed to have presented."--_Suggestion
on the Study of the Æneid_, by H. Nettleship, p. 13.]
The _Observations_ were the last work which Gibbon published in his
father's lifetime. His account of the latter's death (November 10,
1770) is feelingly written, and shows the affectionate side of his own
nature to advantage. He acknowledges his father's failings, his
weakness and inconstancy, but insists that they were compensated by
the virtues of the head and heart, and the warmest sentiments of
honour and humanity. "His graceful person, polite address, gentle
manners, and unaffected cheerfulness recommended him to the favour of
every company." And Gibbon recalls with emotion "the pangs of shame,
tenderness, and self-reproach" which preyed on his father's mind at
the prospect, no doubt, of leaving an embarrassed estate and
precarious fortune to his son and widow. He had no taste for study in
the fatal summer of 1770, and declares that he would have been ashamed
if he had. "I submitted to the order of nature," he says, in words
which recall his resignation on losing his mistress--"I submitted to
the order of nature, and my grief was soothed by the conscious
satisfaction that I had discharged all the duties of filial piety." We
see Gibbon very fairly in this remark. He had tenderness, steady and
warm attachments, but no passion.
Nearly two years elapsed after his father's death, before he was able
to secure from the wreck of his estate a sufficient competence to
establish himself in London. His house was No. 7, Bentinck Street,
near Manchester Square, then a remote suburb close to the country
fields. His housekeeping was that of a solitary bachelor, who could
afford an occasional dinner-party. Though not absolutely straitened in
means, we shall presently see that he was never quite at his ease in
money matters while he remained in London. But he had now freedom and
no great anxieties, and he began seriously to contemplate the
execution of his great work.
Gibbon, as we have seen, looked back with little satisfaction on the
five years between his return from his travels and his father's death.
They are also the years during which his biographer is able to follow
him with the least certainty. Hardly any of his letters which refer to
that period have been preserved, and he has glided rapidly over it in
his Memoirs. Yet it was, in other respects besides the matter of
pecuniary troubles, a momentous epoch in his life. The peculiar views
which he adopted and partly professed on religion must have been
formed then. But the date, the circumstance, and the occasion are left
in darkness. Up to December 18, 1763, Gibbon was evidently a believer.
In an entry in his private journal under that date he speaks of a
Communion Sunday at Lausanne as affording an "edifying spectacle," on
the ground that there is "neither business nor parties, and they
interdict even whist" on that day. How soon after this his opinions
began to change, it is impossible to say. But we are conscious of a
markedly different tone in the _Observations_, and a sneer at "the
ancient alliance between the avarice of the priests and the credulity
of the people" is in the familiar style of the Deists from Toland to
Chubb. There is no evidence of his familiarity with the widely
diffused works of the freethinkers, and as far as I am aware he does
not quote or refer to them even once. But they could hardly have
escaped his notice. Still his strong historic sense and solid
erudition would be more likely to be repelled than attracted by their
vague and inaccurate scholarship, and chimerical theories of the light
of Nature. Still we know that he practically adopted, in the end, at
least the negative portion of these views, and the question is, When
did he do so? His visit to Paris, and the company that he frequented
there, might suggest that as a probable date of his change of
opinions. But the entry just referred to was subsequent by several
months to that visit, and we may with confidence assume that no
freethinker of the eighteenth century would pronounce the austerities
of a Communion Sunday in a Calvinist town an edifying spectacle. It is
probable that his relinquishing of dogmatic faith was gradual, and for
a time unconscious. It was an age of tepid belief, except among the
Nonjurors and Methodists; and with neither of these groups could he
have had the least sympathy. His acquaintance with Hume, and his
partiality for the writings of Bayle, are more probable sources of a
change of sentiment which was in a way predestined by natural bias and
cast of mind. Any occasion would serve to precipitate the result. In
any case, this result had been attained some years before the
publication of the first volume of the _Decline and Fall_, in 1776.
Referring to his preparatory studies for the execution of that work,
he says, "As I believed, and as I still believe, that the propagation
of the Gospel and the triumph of the Church are inseparably connected
with the decline of the Roman monarchy, I weighed the causes and
effects of the revolution, and contrasted the narratives and apologies
of the Christians themselves with the glances of candour or enmity
which the pagans have cast on the rising sects. The Jewish and heathen
testimonies, as they are collected and illustrated by Dr. Lardner,
directed without superseding my search of the originals, and in an
ample dissertation on the miraculous darkness of the Passion I
privately drew my conclusions from the silence of an unbelieving age."
Here we have the argument which concludes the sixteenth chapter
distinctly announced. But the previous travail of spirit is not
indicated. Gibbon has marked with precision the stages of his
conversion to Romanism. But the following chapters of the history of
his religious opinions he has not written, or he has suppressed them,
and we can only vaguely guess their outline.