MEMOIRS OF MY LIFE AND WRITINGS

By Edward Gibbon

In the fifty-second year of my age, after the completion of an arduousand successful work, I now propose to employ some moments of my leisurein reviewing the simple transactions of a private and literary life. Truth, naked unblushing truth, the first virtue of more serious history, must be the sole recommendation of this personal narrative. The styleshall be simple and familiar; but style is the image of character; andthe habits of correct writing may produce, without labour or design, theappearance of art and study. My own amusement is my motive, and willbe my reward: and if these sheets are communicated to some discreet andindulgent friends, they will be secreted from the public eye till theauthor shall be removed beyond the reach of criticism or ridicule. 

A lively desire of knowing and of recording our ancestors so generallyprevails, that it must depend on the influence of some common principlein the minds of men. We seem to have lived in the persons of ourforefathers; it is the labour and reward of vanity to extend the termof this ideal longevity. Our imagination is always active to enlarge thenarrow circle in which Nature has confined us. Fifty or an hundred yearsmay be allotted to an individual, but we step forward beyond death withsuch hopes as religion and philosophy will suggest; and we fill up thesilent vacancy that precedes our birth, by associating ourselves tothe authors of our existence. Our calmer judgment will rather tend tomoderate, than to suppress, the pride of an ancient and worthy race. Thesatirist may laugh, the philosopher may preach; but Reason herself willrespect the prejudices and habits, which have been consecrated by theexperience of mankind. 

Wherever the distinction of birth is allowed to form a superior order inthe state, education and example should always, and will often, produceamong them a dignity of sentiment and propriety of conduct, which isguarded from dishonour by their own and the public esteem. If we readof some illustrious line so ancient that it has no beginning, so worthythat it ought to have no end, we sympathize in its various fortunes; norcan we blame the generous enthusiasm, or even the harmless vanity, ofthose who are allied to the honours of its name. For my own part, couldI draw my pedigree from a general, a statesman, or a celebrated author, I should study their lives with the diligence of filial love. Inthe investigation of past events, our curiosity is stimulated by theimmediate or indirect reference to ourselves; but in the estimate ofhonour we should learn to value the gifts of Nature above those ofFortune; to esteem in our ancestors the qualities that best promote theinterests of society; and to pronounce the descendant of a king lesstruly noble than the offspring of a man of genius, whose writings willinstruct or delight the latest posterity. The family of Confucius is, inmy opinion, the most illustrious in the world. After a painful ascent ofeight or ten centuries, our barons and princes of Europe are lost in thedarkness of the middle ages; but, in the vast equality of the empire ofChina, the posterity of Confucius have maintained, above two thousandtwo hundred years, their peaceful honours and perpetual succession. Thechief of the family is still revered, by the sovereign and the people, as the lively image of the wisest of mankind. The nobility ofthe Spencers has been illustrated and enriched by the trophies ofMarlborough; but I exhort them to consider the "Fairy Queen" as the mostprecious jewel of their coronet. I have exposed my private feelings, asI shall always do, without scruple or reserve. That these sentiments arejust, or at least natural, I am inclined to believe, since I do notfeel myself interested in the cause; for I can derive from my ancestorsneither glory nor shame. 

Yet a sincere and simple narrative of my own life may amuse some of myleisure hours; but it will subject me, and perhaps with justice, to theimputation of vanity. I may judge, however, from the experience bothof past and of the present times, that the public are always curious toknow the men, who have left behind them any image of their minds:the most scanty accounts of such men are compiled with diligence, andperused with eagerness; and the student of every class may derive alesson, or an example, from the lives most similar to his own. My namemay hereafter be placed among the thousand articles of a BiographicBritannica; and I must be conscious, that no one is so well qualified, as myself, to describe the series of my thoughts and actions. Theauthority of my masters, of the grave Thuanus, and the philosophic Hume, might be sufficient to justify my design; but it would not be difficultto produce a long list of ancients and moderns, who, in various forms, have exhibited their own portraits. Such portraits are often the mostinteresting, and sometimes the only interesting parts of their writings;and if they be sincere, we seldom complain of the minuteness orprolixity of these personal memorials. The lives of the younger Pliny, of Petrarch, and of Erasmus, are expressed in the epistles, which theythemselves have given to the world. The essays of Montaigne and SirWilliam Temple bring us home to the houses and bosoms of the authors: wesmile without contempt at the headstrong passions of Benevenuto Cellini, and the gay follies of Colley Cibber. The confessions of St. Austin andRousseau disclose the secrets of the human heart; the commentaries ofthe learned Huet have survived his evangelical demonstration; and thememoirs of Goldoni are more truly dramatic than his Italian comedies. The heretic and the churchman are strongly marked in the characters andfortunes of Whiston and Bishop Newton; and even the dullness of Michaelde Marolles and Anthony Wood acquires some value from the faithfulrepresentation of men and manners. That I am equal or superior to someof these, the effects of modesty or affectation cannot force me todissemble. 

My family is originally derived from the county of Kent. The Southerndistrict, which borders on Sussex and the sea, was formerly overspreadwith the great forest Anderida, and even now retains the denomination ofthe Weald or Woodland. In this district, and in the hundred and parishof Rolvenden, the Gibbons were possessed of lands in the year onethousand three hundred and twenty-six; and the elder branch of thefamily, without much increase or diminution of property, still adheresto its native soil. Fourteen years after the first appearance of hisname, John Gibbon is recorded as the Marmorarius or architect of KingEdward the Third: the strong and stately castle of Queensborough, whichguarded the entrance of the Medway, was a monument of his skill; and thegrant of an hereditary toll on the passage from Sandwich to Stonar, in the Isle of Thanet, is the reward of no vulgar artist. In thevisitations of the heralds, the Gibbons are frequently mentioned;they held the rank of esquire in an age, when that title was lesspromiscuously assumed: one of them, under the reign of Queen Elizabeth, was captain of the militia of Kent; and a free school, in theneighbouring town of Benenden, proclaims the charity and opulence of itsfounder. But time, or their own obscurity, has cast a veil of oblivionover the virtues and vices of my Kentish ancestors; their character orstation confined them to the labours and pleasures of a rural life: noris it in my power to follow the advice of the poet, in an inquiry aftera name, --

 "Go! search it there, where to be born, and die, Of rich and poor makes all the history. "

So recent is the institution of our parish registers. In the beginningof the seventeenth century, a younger branch of the Gibbons of Rolvendenmigrated from the country to the city; and from this branch I do notblush to descend. The law requires some abilities; the church imposessome restraints; and before our army and navy, our civil establishments, and India empire, had opened so many paths of fortune, the mercantileprofession was more frequently chosen by youths of a liberal raceand education, who aspired to create their own independence. Our mostrespectable families have not disdained the counting-house, or even theshop; their names are enrolled in the Livery and Companies of London;and in England, as well as in the Italian commonwealths, heralds havebeen compelled to declare that gentility is not degraded by the exerciseof trade. 

The armorial ensigns which, in the times of chivalry, adorned the crestand shield of the soldier, are now become an empty decoration, whichevery man, who has money to build a carriage, may paint according to hisfancy on the panels. My family arms are the same, which were borne bythe Gibbons of Kent in an age, when the College of Heralds religiouslyguarded the distinctions of blood and name: a lion rampant gardant, between three schallop-shells argent, on a field azure. I shouldnot however have been tempted to blazon my coat of arms, were it notconnected with a whimsical anecdote. About the reign of James the First, the three harmless schallop-shells were changed by Edmund Gibbon esq. Into three ogresses, or female cannibals, with a design of stigmatizingthree ladies, his kinswomen, who had provoked him by an unjust law-suit. But this singular mode of revenge, for which he obtained the sanction ofSir William Seagar, king at arms, soon expired with its author; and, on his own monument in the Temple church, the monsters vanish, and thethree schallop-shells resume their proper and hereditary place. 

Our alliances by marriage it is not disgraceful to mention. The chiefhonour of my ancestry is James Fiens, Baron Say and Scale, and Lord HighTreasurer of England, in the reign of Henry the Sixth; from whom by thePhelips, the Whetnalls, and the Cromers, I am lineally descended inthe eleventh degree. His dismission and imprisonment in the Tower wereinsufficient to appease the popular clamour; and the Treasurer, with hisson-in-law Cromer, was beheaded(1450), after a mock trial by the Kentishinsurgents. The black list of his offences, as it is exhibited inShakespeare, displays the ignorance and envy of a plebeian tyrant. Besides the vague reproaches of selling Maine and Normandy to theDauphin, the Treasurer is specially accused of luxury, for riding ona foot-cloth; and of treason, for speaking French, the language of ourenemies: "Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm, "says Jack Cade to the unfortunate Lord, "in erecting a grammar-school;and whereas before our forefathers had no other books than the score andthe tally, thou hast caused printing to be used; and, contrary to theking, his crown, and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill. It will beproved to thy face, that thou hast men about thee, who usually talk ofa noun and a verb, and such abominable words, as no Christian earcan endure to hear. " Our dramatic poet is generally more attentive tocharacter than to history; and I much fear that the art of printing wasnot introduced into England, till several years after Lord Say'sdeath; but of some of these meritorious crimes I should hope to find myancestor guilty; and a man of letters may be proud of his descent from apatron and martyr of learning. 

In the beginning of the last century Robert Gibbon Esq. Of Rolvendenin Kent (who died in 1618), had a son of the same name of Robert, whosettled in London, and became a member of the Cloth-workers' Company. His wife was a daughter of the Edgars, who flourished about four hundredyears in the county of Suffolk, and produced an eminent and wealthyserjeant-at-law, Sir Gregory Edgar, in the reign of Henry the Seventh. Of the sons of Robert Gibbon, (who died in 1643, ) Matthew did not aspireabove the station of a linen-draper in Leadenhall-street; but Johnhas given to the public some curious memorials of his existence, hischaracter, and his family. He was born on Nov. 3d, 1629; his educationwas liberal, at a grammar-school, and afterwards in Jesus College atCambridge; and he celebrates the retired content which he enjoyed atAllesborough, in Worcestershire, in the house of Thomas Lord Coventry, where John Gibbon was employed as a domestic tutor, the same officewhich Mr. Hobbes exercised in the Devonshire family. But the spiritof my kinsman soon immerged into more active life: he visited foreigncountries as a soldier and a traveller, acquired the knowledge of theFrench and Spanish languages, passed some time in the Isle of Jersey, crossed the Atlantic, and resided upwards of a twelvemonth (1659) in therising colony of Virginia. In this remote province his taste, or ratherpassion, for heraldry found a singular gratification at a war-dance ofthe native Indians. As they moved in measured steps, brandishing theirtomahawks, his curious eye contemplated their little shields of bark, and their naked bodies, which were painted with the colours andsymbols of his favourite science. "At which I exceedingly wondered;and concluded that heraldry was ingrafted _naturally_ into the sense ofhuman race. If so, it deserves a greater esteem than now-a-days is putupon it. " His return to England after the Restoration was soon followedby his marriage his settlement in a house in St. Catherine's Cloister, near the Tower, which devolved to my grandfather and his introductioninto the Heralds' College (in 1671) by the style and title ofBlue-mantle Pursuivant at Arms. In this office he enjoyed near fiftyyears the rare felicity of uniting, in the same pursuit, his duty andinclination: his name is remembered in the College, and many of hisletters are still preserved. Several of the most respectable charactersof the age, Sir William Dugdale, Mr. Ashmole, Dr. John Betts, and Dr. Nehemiah Grew, were his friends; and in the society of such men, JohnGibbon may be recorded without disgrace as the member of an astrologicalclub. The study of hereditary honours is favourable to the Royalprerogative; and my kinsman, like most of his family, was a high Toryboth in church and state. In the latter end of the reign of Charlesthe Second, his pen was exercised in the cause of the Duke of York: theRepublican faction he most cordially detested; and as each animal isconscious of its proper arms, the heralds' revenge was emblazoned ona most diabolical escutcheon. But the triumph of the Whig governmentchecked the preferment of Blue-mantle; and he was even suspendedfrom his office, till his tongue could learn to pronounce the oath ofabjuration. His life was prolonged to the age of ninety: and, in theexpectation of the inevitable though uncertain hour, he wishes topreserve the blessings of health, competence, and virtue. In the year1682 he published in London his Introductio ad Latinam Blasoniam, anoriginal attempt, which Camden had desiderated, to define, in a Romanidiom, the terms and attributes of a Gothic institution. It is not twoyears since I acquired, in a foreign land, some domestic intelligenceof my own family; and this intelligence was conveyed to Switzerland fromthe heart of Germany. I had formed an acquaintance with Mr. Langer, alively and ingenious scholar, while he resided at Lausanne as preceptorto the Hereditary Prince of Brunswick. On his return to his properstation of Librarian to the Ducal Library of Wolfenbuttel, heaccidentally found among some literary rubbish a small old Englishvolume of heraldry, inscribed with the name of John Gibbon. From thetitle only Mr. Langer judged that it might be an acceptable present tohis friend--and he judged rightly. His manner is quaint and affected;his order is confused: but he displays some wit, more reading, andstill more enthusiasm: and if an enthusiast be often absurd, he isnever languid. An English text is perpetually interspersed with Latinsentences in prose and verse; but in his own poetry he claims anexemption from the laws of prosody. Amidst a profusion of genealogicalknowledge, my kinsman could not be forgetful of his own name; and tohim I am indebted for almost the whole of my information concerning theGibbon family. From this small work the author expected immortal fame. 

Such are the hopes of authors! In the failure of those hopes John Gibbonhas not been the first of his profession, and very possibly may not bethe last of his name. His brother Matthew Gibbon, the draper, had onedaughter and two sons--my grandfather Edward, who was born in theyear 1666, and Thomas, afterwards Dean of Carlisle. According tothe mercantile creed, that the best book is a profitable ledger, thewritings of John the herald would be much less precious than those ofhis nephew Edward: but an author professes at least to write for thepublic benefit; and the slow balance of trade can be pleasing to thosepersons only, to whom it is advantageous. The successful industry of mygrandfather raised him above the level of his immediate ancestors; heappears to have launched into various and extensive dealings: even hisopinions were subordinate to his interest; and I find him in Flandersclothing King William's troops, while he would have contracted with morepleasure, though not perhaps at a cheaper rate, for the service of KingJames. During his residence abroad, his concerns at home were managed byhis mother Hester, an active and notable woman. Her second husband wasa widower of the name of Acton: they united the children of theirfirst nuptials. After his marriage with the daughter of Richard Acton, goldsmith in Leadenhall-street, he gave his own sister to Sir WhitmoreActon, of Aldenham; and I am thus connected, by a triple alliance, withthat ancient and loyal family of Shropshire baronets. It consisted aboutthat time of seven brothers, all of gigantic stature; one of whom, apigmy of six feet two inches, confessed himself the last and least ofthe seven; adding, in the true spirit of party, that such men were notborn since the Revolution. Under the Tory administration of the fourlast years of Queen Anne (1710-1714) Mr. Edward Gibbon was appointed oneof the Commissioners of the Customs; he sat at that Board with Prior;but the merchant was better qualified for his station than the poet;since Lord Bolingbroke has been heard to declare, that he had neverconversed with a man, who more clearly understood the commerce andfinances of England. In the year 1716 he was elected one of theDirectors of the South Sea Company; and his books exhibited the proofthat, before his acceptance of this fatal office, he had acquired anindependent fortune of sixty thousand pounds. 

But his fortune was overwhelmed in the shipwreck of the year twenty, andthe labours of thirty years were blasted in a single day. Of the useor abuse of the South Sea scheme, of the guilt or innocence of mygrandfather and his brother Directors, I am neither a competent nor adisinterested judge. Yet the equity of modern times must condemn theviolent and arbitrary proceedings, which would have disgraced the causeof justice, and would render injustice still more odious. No sooner hadthe nation awakened from its golden dream, than a popular and even aparliamentary clamour demanded their victims: but it was acknowledgedon all sides that the South Sea Directors, however guilty, could not betouched by any known laws of the land. The speech of Lord Molesworth, the author of the State of Denmark, may shew the temper, or rather theintemperance, of the House of Commons. "Extraordinary crimes (exclaimedthat ardent Whig) call aloud for extraordinary remedies. The Romanlawgivers had not foreseen the possible existence of a parricide; butas soon as the first monster appeared, he was sewn in a sack, and castheadlong into the river; and I shall be content to inflict the sametreatment on the authors of our present ruin. " His motion was notliterally adopted; but a bill of pains and penalties was introduced, aretroactive statute, to punish the offences, which did not exist at thetime they were committed. Such a pernicious violation of liberty andlaw can be excused only by the most imperious necessity; nor could itbe defended on this occasion by the plea of impending danger or usefulexample. The legislature restrained the persons of the Directors, imposed an exorbitant security for their appearance, and marked theircharacters with a previous note of ignominy: they were compelled todeliver, upon oath, the strict value of their estates; and were disabledfrom making any transfer or alienation of any part of their property. Against a bill of pains and penalties it is the common right of everysubject to be heard by his counsel at the bar: they prayed to beheard; their prayer was refused; and their oppressors, who required noevidence, would listen to no defence. It had been at first proposed thatone-eighth of their respective estates should be allowed for the futuresupport of the Directors; but it was speciously urged, that in thevarious shades of opulence and guilt such an unequal proportion wouldbe too light for many, and for some might possibly be too heavy. Thecharacter and conduct of each man were separately weighed; but, insteadof the calm solemnity of a judicial inquiry, the fortune and honour ofthree and thirty Englishmen were made the topic of hasty conversation, the sport of a lawless majority; and the basest member of the committee, by a malicious word or, a silent vote, might indulge his general spleenor personal animosity. Injury was aggravated by insult, and insult wasembittered by pleasantry. Allowances of twenty pounds, or one shilling, were facetiously moved. A vague report that a Director had formerly beenconcerned in another project, by which some unknown persons had losttheir money, was admitted as a proof of his actual guilt. One man wasruined because he had dropped a foolish speech, that his horses shouldfeed upon gold; another because he was grown so proud, that, one day atthe Treasury, he had refused a civil answer to persons much abovehim. All were condemned, absent and unheard, in arbitrary fines andforfeitures, which swept away the greatest part of their substance. Such bold oppression can scarcely be shielded by the omnipotence ofparliament; and yet it maybe seriously questioned, whether the judges ofthe South Sea Directors were the true and legal representatives of theircountry. The first parliament of George the First had been chosen (1715)for three years: the term had elapsed, their trust was expired; and thefour additional years (1718-1722), during which they continued to sit, were derived not from the people, but from themselves; from the strongmeasure of the septennial bill, which can only be paralleled by il serardi consiglio of the Venetian history. Yet candour will own that to thesame parliament every Englishman is deeply indebted: the septennial act, so vicious in its origin, has been sanctioned by time, experience, andthe national consent. Its first operation secured the House of Hanoveron the throne, and its permanent influence maintains the peace andstability of government. As often as a repeal has been moved in theHouse of Commons, I have given in its defence a clear and conscientiousvote. My grandfather could not expect to be treated with more lenitythan his companions. His Tory principles and connections rendered himobnoxious to the ruling powers: his name is reported in a suspicioussecret; and his well-known abilities could not plead the excuse ofignorance or error. In the first proceedings against the South SeaDirectors, Mr. Gibbon is one of the few who were taken into custody;and, in the final sentence, the measure of his fine proclaims himeminently guilty. The total estimate which he delivered on oath to theHouse of Commons amounted to 106, 543 pounds 5 shillings and 6 pence, exclusive of antecedent settlements. Two different allowances of 15, 000pounds and of 10, 000 pounds were moved for Mr. Gibbon; but, on thequestion being put, it was carried without a division for the smallersum. On these ruins, with the skill and credit, of which parliament hadnot been able to despoil him, my grandfather at a mature age erectedthe edifice of a new fortune: the labours of sixteen years were amplyrewarded; and I have reason to believe that the second structure was notmuch inferior to the first. He had realized a very considerable propertyin Sussex, Hampshire, Buckinghamshire, and the New River Company; andhad acquired a spacious house, with gardens and lands, at Putney, inSurrey, where he resided in decent hospitality. He died in December1736, at the age of seventy; and by his last will, at the expenseof Edward, his only son, (with whose marriage he was not perfectlyreconciled, ) enriched his two daughters, Catherine and Hester. Theformer became the wife of Mr. Edward Elliston, an East India captain:their daughter and heiress Catherine was married in the year 1756 toEdward Eliot, Esq. (now lord Eliot), of Port Eliot, in the county ofCornwall; and their three sons are my nearest male relations on thefather's side. A life of devotion and celibacy was the choice of myaunt, Mrs. Hester Gibbon, who, at the age of eighty-five, still residesin a hermitage at Cliffe, in Northamptonshire; having long survivedher spiritual guide and faithful companion Mr. William Law, who, at anadvanced age, about the year 1761, died in her house. In our family hehad left the reputation of a worthy and pious man, who believed all thathe professed, and practised all that he enjoined. The character of anon-juror, which he maintained to the last, is a sufficient evidenceof his principles in church and state; and the sacrifice of interest toconscience will be always respectable. His theological writings, whichour domestic connection has tempted me to peruse, preserve an imperfectsort of life, and I can pronounce with more confidence and knowledge onthe merits of the author. His last compositions are darkly tinctured bythe incomprehensible visions of Jacob Behmen; and his discourse on theabsolute unlawfulness of stage entertainments is sometimes quoted fora ridiculous intemperance of sentiment and language. --"The actors andspectators must all be damned: the playhouse is the porch of Hell, theplace of the Devil's abode, where he holds his filthy court of evilspirits: a play is the Devil's triumph, a sacrifice performed to hisglory, as much as in the heathen temples of Bacchus or Venus, &c. , &c. "But these sallies of religious frenzy must not extinguish the praise, which is due to Mr. William Law as a wit and a scholar. His argument ontopics of less absurdity is specious and acute, his manner is lively, his style forcible and clear; and, had not his vigorous mind beenclouded by enthusiasm, he might be ranked with the most agreeable andingenious writers of the times. While the Bangorian controversy wasa fashionable theme, he entered the lists on the subject of Christ'skingdom, and the authority of the priesthood: against the plain accountof the sacrament of the Lord's Supper he resumed the combat with BishopHoadley, the object of Whig idolatry, and Tory abhorrence; and at everyweapon of attack and defence the non-juror, on the ground which iscommon to both, approves himself at least equal to the prelate. Onthe appearance of the Fable of the Bees, he drew his pen against thelicentious doctrine that private vices are public benefits, and moralityas well as religion must join in his applause. Mr. Law's master-work, the Serious Call, is still read as a popular and powerful book ofdevotion. His precepts are rigid, but they are founded on the gospel;his satire is sharp, but it is drawn from the knowledge of human life;and many of his portraits are not unworthy of the pen of La Bruyere. Ifhe finds a spark of piety in his reader's mind, he will soon kindle itto a flame; and a philosopher must allow that he exposes, with equalseverity and truth, the strange contradiction between the faith andpractice of the Christian world. Under the names of Flavia and Mirandahe has admirably described my two aunts the heathen and the Christiansister. 

My father, Edward Gibbon, was born in October, 1707: at the age ofthirteen he could scarcely feel that he was disinherited by act ofparliament; and, as he advanced towards manhood, new prospects offortune opened to his view. A parent is most attentive to supply inhis children the deficiencies, of which he is conscious in himself: mygrandfather's knowledge was derived from a strong understanding, and theexperience of the ways of men; but my father enjoyed the benefits of aliberal education as a scholar and a gentleman. At Westminster School, and afterwards at Emanuel College in Cambridge, he passed through aregular course of academical discipline; and the care of his learningand morals was intrusted to his private tutor, the same Mr. William Law. But the mind of a saint is above or below the present world; and whilethe pupil proceeded on his travels, the tutor remained at Putney, themuch-honoured friend and spiritual director of the whole family. Myfather resided sometime at Paris to acquire the fashionable exercises;and as his temper was warm and social, he indulged in those pleasures, for which the strictness of his former education had given him a keenerrelish. He afterwards visited several provinces of France; but hisexcursions were neither long nor remote; and the slender knowledge, which he had gained of the French language, was gradually obliterated. His passage through Besancon is marked by a singular consequence in thechain of human events. In a dangerous illness Mr. Gibbon was attended, at his own request, by one of his kinsmen of the name of Acton, theyounger brother of a younger brother, who had applied himself to thestudy of physic. During the slow recovery of his patient, the physicianhimself was attacked by the malady of love: he married his mistress, renounced his country and religion, settled at Besancon, and became thefather of three sons; the eldest of whom, General Acton, is conspicuousin Europe as the principal Minister of the king of the Two Sicilies. Byan uncle whom another stroke of fortune had transplanted to Leghorn, he was educated in the naval service of the Emperor; and his valour andconduct in the command of the Tuscan frigates protected the retreatof the Spaniards from Algiers. On my father's return to England he waschosen, in the general election of 1734, to serve in parliament forthe borough of Petersfield; a burgage tenure, of which my grandfatherpossessed a weighty share, till he alienated (I know not why) suchimportant property. In the opposition to Sir Robert Walpole and thePelhams, prejudice and society connected his son with the Tories, --shallI say Jacobites? or, as they were pleased to style themselves, thecountry gentlemen? with them he gave many a vote; with them he drankmany a bottle. Without acquiring the fame of an orator or a statesman, he eagerly joined in the great opposition, which, after a sevenyears' chase, hunted down Sir Robert Walpole: and in the pursuit of anunpopular minister, he gratified a private revenge against the oppressorof his family in the South Sea persecution. 

I was born at Putney, in the county of Surrey, April 27th, O. S. , in theyear one thousand seven hundred and thirty-seven; the first child of themarriage of Edward Gibbon, esq. , and of Judith Porten. [Note: The unionto which I owe my birth was a marriage of inclination and esteem. Mr. James Porten, a merchant of London, resided with his family at Putney, in a house adjoining to the bridge and churchyard, where I have passedmany happy hours of my childhood. He left one son (the late Sir StanierPorten) and three daughters; Catherine, who preserved her maiden name, and of whom I shall hereafter speak; another daughter married Mr. Darrelof Richmond, and left two sons, Edward and Robert: the youngest of thethree sisters was Judith, my mother. ] My lot might have been that of aslave, a savage, or a peasant; nor can I reflect without pleasure on thebounty of Nature, which cast my birth in a free and civilized country, in an age of science and philosophy, in a family of honourable rank, anddecently endowed with the gifts of fortune. From my birth I have enjoyedthe right of primogeniture; but I was succeeded by five brothers andone sister, all of whom were snatched away in their infancy. My fivebrothers, whose names may be found in the parish register of Putney, Ishall not pretend to lament: but from my childhood to the present hourI have deeply and sincerely regretted my sister, whose life was somewhatprolonged, and whom I remember to have been an amiable infant. Therelation of a brother and a sister, especially if they do not marry, appears to me of a very singular nature. It is a familiar and tenderfriendship with a female, much about our own age; an affection perhapssoftened by the secret influence of sex, and the sole species ofPlatonic love that can be indulged with truth, and without danger. 

At the general election of 1741, Mr. Gibbon and Mr. Delme stood anexpensive and successful contest at Southampton, against Mr. Dummer andMr. Henly, afterwards Lord Chancellor and Earl of Northington. The Whigcandidates had a majority of the resident voters; but the corporationwas firm in the Tory interest: a sudden creation of one hundred andseventy new freemen turned the scale; and a supply was readily obtainedof respectable volunteers, who flocked from all parts of England tosupport the cause of their political friends. The new parliament openedwith the victory of an opposition, which was fortified by strong clamourand strange coalitions. From the event of the first divisions, SirRobert Walpole perceived that he could no longer lead a majority inthe House of Commons, and prudently resigned (after a dominion ofone-and-twenty years) the guidance of the state (1742). But the fallof an unpopular minister was not succeeded, according to generalexpectation, by a millennium of happiness and virtue: some courtierslost their places, some patriots lost their characters, Lord Orford'soffences vanished with his power; and after a short vibration, thePelham government was fixed on the old basis of the Whig aristocracy. In the year 1745, the throne and the constitution were attacked by arebellion, which does not reflect much honour on the national spirit;since the English friends of the Pretender wanted courage to joinhis standard, and his enemies (the bulk of the people) allowed him toadvance into the heart of the kingdom. Without daring, perhaps withoutdesiring, to aid the rebels, my father invariably adhered to the Toryopposition. In the most critical season he accepted, for the service ofthe party, the office of alderman in the city of London: but the dutieswere so repugnant to his inclination and habits, that he resigned hisgown at the end of a few months. The second parliament in which he satwas prematurely dissolved (1747): and as he was unable or unwillingto maintain a second contest for Southampton, the life of the senatorexpired in that dissolution. 

The death of a new-born child before that of its parents may seem anunnatural, but it is strictly a probable, event: since of any givennumber the greater part are extinguished before their ninth year, beforethey possess the faculties of the mind or body. Without accusing theprofuse waste or imperfect workmanship of Nature, I shall onlyobserve, that this unfavourable chance was multiplied against my infantexistence. So feeble was my constitution, so precarious my life, that, in the baptism of each of my brothers, my father's prudence successivelyrepeated my Christian name of Edward, that, in case of the departure ofthe eldest son, this patronymic appellation might be still perpetuatedin the family. 

 --Uno avulso non deficit alter. 

To preserve and to rear so frail a being, the most tender assiduity wasscarcely sufficient, and my mother's attention was somewhat divertedby an exclusive passion for her husband, and by the dissipation of theworld, in which his taste and authority obliged her to mingle. But thematernal office was supplied by my aunt, Mrs. Catherine Porten; atwhose name I feel a tear of gratitude trickling down my cheek. A life ofcelibacy transferred her vacant affection to her sister's first child;my weakness excited her pity; her attachment was fortified by labourand success: and if there be any, as I trust there are some, who rejoicethat I live, to that dear and excellent woman they must hold themselvesindebted. Many anxious and solitary days did she consume in the patienttrial of every mode of relief and amusement. Many wakeful nights did shesit by my bedside in trembling expectation that each hour would bemy last. Of the various and frequent disorders of my childhood my ownrecollection is dark. Suffice it to say, that while every practitioner, from Sloane and Ward to the Chevalier Taylor, was successively summonedto torture or relieve me, the care of my mind was too frequentlyneglected for that of my health: compassion always suggested an excusefor the indulgence of the master, or the idleness of the pupil; and thechain of my education was broken, as often as I was recalled from theschool of learning to the bed of sickness. 

As soon as the use of speech had prepared my infant reason for theadmission of knowledge, I was taught the arts of reading, writing, and arithmetic. So remote is the date, so vague is the memory of theirorigin in myself, that, were not the error corrected by analogy, Ishould be tempted to conceive them as innate. In my childhood I waspraised for the readiness with which I could multiply and divide, bymemory alone, two sums of several figures; such praise encouraged mygrowing talent; and had I persevered in this line of application, Imight have acquired some fame in mathematical studies. 

After this previous institution at home, or at a day school at Putney, Iwas delivered at the age of seven into the hands of Mr. John Kirkby, who exercised about eighteen months the office of my domestic tutor. Hislearning and virtue introduced him to my father; and at Putney he mighthave found at least a temporary shelter, had not an act of indiscretiondriven him into the world. One day reading prayers in the parish church, he most unluckily forgot the name of King George: his patron, a loyalsubject, dismissed him with some reluctance, and a decent reward; andhow the poor man ended his days I have never been able to learn. Mr. John Kirkby is the author of two small volumes; the Life of Automathes(London, 1745), and an English and Latin Grammar (London, 1746); which, as a testimony of gratitude, he dedicated (Nov. 5th, 1745) to my father. The books are before me: from them the pupil may judge the preceptor;and, upon the whole, his judgment will not be unfavourable. The grammaris executed with accuracy and skill, and I know not whether any betterexisted at the time in our language: but the Life of Automathes aspiresto the honours of a philosophical fiction. It is the story of a youth, the son of a ship-wrecked exile, who lives alone on a desert islandfrom infancy to the age of manhood. A hind is his nurse; he inherits acottage, with many useful and curious instruments; some ideas remain ofthe education of his two first years; some arts are borrowed from thebeavers of a neighbouring lake; some truths are revealed in supernaturalvisions. With these helps, and his own industry, Automathes becomes aself-taught though speechless philosopher, who had investigated withsuccess his own mind, the natural world, the abstract sciences, and thegreat principles of morality and religion. The author is not entitledto the merit of invention, since he has blended the English story ofRobinson Crusoe with the Arabian romance of Hai Ebn Yokhdan, which hemight have read in the Latin version of Pocock. In the Automathes Icannot praise either the depth of thought or elegance of style; but thebook is not devoid of entertainment or instruction; and among severalinteresting passages, I would select the discovery of fire, whichproduces by accidental mischief the discovery of conscience. A man whohad thought so much on the subjects of language and education was surelyno ordinary preceptor: my childish years, and his hasty departure, prevented me from enjoying the full benefit of his lessons; but theyenlarged my knowledge of arithmetic, and left me a clear impression ofthe English and Latin rudiments. 

In my ninth year (Jan. , 1746), in a lucid interval of comparativehealth, my father adopted the convenient and customary mode of Englisheducation; and I was sent to Kingston-upon-Thames, to a school of aboutseventy boys, which was kept by Dr. Wooddeson and his assistants. Everytime I have since passed over Putney Common, I have always noticed thespot where my mother, as we drove along in the coach, admonished methat I was now going into the world, and must learn to think and act formyself. The expression may appear ludicrous; yet there is not, in thecourse of life, a more remarkable change than the removal of a childfrom the luxury and freedom of a wealthy house, to the frugal diet andstrict subordination of a school; from the tenderness of parents, andthe obsequiousness of servants, to the rude familiarity of his equals, the insolent tyranny of his seniors, and the rod, perhaps, of a crueland capricious pedagogue. Such hardships may steel the mind and bodyagainst the injuries of fortune; but my timid reserve was astonished bythe crowd and tumult of the school; the want of strength and activitydisqualified me for the sports of the play-field; nor have I forgottenhow often in the year forty-six I was reviled and buffeted for thesins of my Tory ancestors. By the common methods of discipline, at theexpence of many tears and some blood, I purchased the knowledge of theLatin syntax: and not long since I was possessed of the dirty volumesof Phaedrus and Cornelius Nepos, which I painfully construed and darklyunderstood. The choice of these authors is not injudicious. The lives ofCornelius Nepos, the friend of Atticus and Cicero, are composed in thestyle of the purest age: his simplicity is elegant, his brevity copious;he exhibits a series of men and manners; and with such illustrations, as every pedant is not indeed qualified to give, this classic biographermay initiate a young student in the history of Greece and Rome. The useof fables or apologues has been approved in every age from ancient Indiato modern Europe. They convey in familiar images the truths of moralityand prudence; and the most childish understanding (I advert to thescruples of Rousseau) will not suppose either that beasts do speak, orthat men may lie. A fable represents the genuine characters of animals;and a skilful master might extract from Pliny and Buffon some pleasinglessons of natural history, a science well adapted to the taste andcapacity of children. The Latinity of Phaedrus is not exempt froman alloy of the silver age; but his manner is concise, terse, andsententious; the Thracian slave discreetly breathes the spirit of afreeman; and when the text is found, the style is perspicuous. But hisfables, after a long oblivion, were first published by Peter Pithou, from a corrupt manuscript. The labours of fifty editors confess thedefects of the copy, as well as the value of the original; and theschool-boy may have been whipped for misapprehending a passage, whichBentley could not restore, and which Burman could not explain. 

My studies were too frequently interrupted by sickness; and after a realor nominal residence at Kingston School of near two years, I was finallyrecalled (Dec. , 1747) by my mother's death, in her thirty-eighth year. I was too young to feel the importance of my loss; and the image ofher person and conversation is faintly imprinted in my memory. Theaffectionate heart of my aunt, Catherine Porten, bewailed a sister and afriend; but my poor father was inconsolable, and the transport of griefseemed to threaten his life or his reason. I can never forget the sceneof our first interview, some weeks after the fatal event; the awfulsilence, the room hung with black, the mid-day tapers, his sighsand tears; his praises of my mother, a saint in heaven; his solemnadjuration that I would cherish her memory and imitate her virtues; andthe fervor with which he kissed and blessed me as the sole survivingpledge of their loves. The storm of passion insensibly subsided intocalmer melancholy. At a convivial meeting of his friends, Mr. Gibbonmight affect or enjoy a gleam of cheerfulness; but his plan of happinesswas for ever destroyed: and after the loss of his companion he wasleft alone in a world, of which the business and pleasures were to himirksome or insipid. After some unsuccessful trials he renounced thetumult of London and the hospitality of Putney, and buried himselfin the rural or rather rustic solitude of Beriton; from which, duringseveral years, he seldom emerged. 

As far back as I can remember, the house, near Putney-bridge andchurchyard, of my maternal grandfather appears in the light of my properand native home. It was there that I was allowed to spend the greatestpart of my time, in sickness or in health, during my school vacationsand my parents' residence in London, and finally after my mother'sdeath. Three months after that event, in the spring of 1748, thecommercial ruin of her father, Mr. James Porten, was accomplished anddeclared. He suddenly absconded: but as his effects were not sold, northe house evacuated, till the Christmas following, I enjoyed during thewhole year the society of my aunt, without much consciousness of herimpending fate. I feel a melancholy pleasure in repeating my obligationsto that excellent woman, Mrs. Catherine Porten, the true mother of mymind as well as of my health. Her natural good sense was improved by theperusal of the best books in the English language; and if her reason wassometimes clouded by prejudice, her sentiments were never disguised byhypocrisy or affectation. Her indulgent tenderness, the frankness ofher temper, and my innate rising curiosity, soon removed all distancebetween us: like friends of an equal age, we freely conversed on everytopic, familiar or abstruse; and it was her delight and reward toobserve the first shoots of my young ideas. Pain and languor were oftensoothed by the voice of instruction and amusement; and to her kindlessons I ascribe my early and invincible love of reading, which I wouldnot exchange for the treasures of India. I should perhaps be astonished, were it possible to ascertain the date, at which a favourite tale wasengraved, by frequent repetition, in my memory: the Cavern of the Winds;the Palace of Felicity; and the fatal moment, at the end of three monthsor centuries, when Prince Adolphus is overtaken by Time, who had wornout so many pair of wings in the pursuit. Before I left Kingstonschool I was well acquainted with Pope's Homer and the Arabian NightsEntertainments, two books which will always please by the moving pictureof human manners and specious miracles: nor was I then capable ofdiscerning that Pope's translation is a portrait endowed with everymerit, excepting that of likeness to the original. The verses of Popeaccustomed my ear to the sound of poetic harmony: in the death ofHector, and the shipwreck of Ulysses, I tasted the new emotions ofterror and pity; and seriously disputed with my aunt on the vices andvirtues of the heroes of the Trojan war. From Pope's Homer to Dryden'sVirgil was an easy transition; but I know not how, from some fault inthe author, the translator, or the reader, the pious Aeneas did notso forcibly seize on my imagination; and I derived more pleasurefrom Ovid's Metamorphoses, especially in the fall of Phaeton, and thespeeches of Ajax and Ulysses. My grand-father's flight unlocked the doorof a tolerable library; and I turned over many English pages of poetryand romance, of history and travels. Where a title attracted my eye, without fear or awe I snatched the volume from the shelf; and Mrs. Porten, who indulged herself in moral and religious speculations, wasmore prone to encourage than to check a curiosity above the strength ofa boy. This year (1748), the twelfth of my age, I shall note as the mostpropitious to the growth of my intellectual stature. 

The relics of my grandfather's fortune afforded a bare annuity forhis own maintenance; and his daughter, my worthy aunt, who had alreadypassed her fortieth year, was left destitute. Her noble spirit scorned alife of obligation and dependence; and after revolving several schemes, she preferred the humble industry of keeping a boarding-house forWestminster-school, where she laboriously earned a competence for herold age. This singular opportunity of blending the advantages of privateand public education decided my father. After the Christmas holidaysin January, 1749, I accompanied Mrs. Porten to her new house inCollege-street; and was immediately entered in the school of which Dr. John Nicoll was at that time head-master. At first I was alone: but myaunt's resolution was praised; her character was esteemed; her friendswere numerous and active: in the course of some years she became themother of forty or fifty boys, for the most part of family and fortune;and as her primitive habitation was too narrow, she built and occupied aspacious mansion in Dean's Yard. I shall always be ready to join inthe common opinion that our public schools, which have produced so manyeminent characters, are the best adapted to the genius and constitutionof the English people. A boy of spirit may acquire a previous andpractical experience of the world; and his playfellows may be the futurefriends of his heart or his interest. In a free intercourse with hisequals, the habits of truth, fortitude, and prudence will insensiblybe matured. Birth and riches are measured by the standard of personalmerit; and the mimic scene of a rebellion has displayed, in theirtrue colours, the ministers and patriots of the rising generation. Ourseminaries of learning do not exactly correspond with the precept of aSpartan king, "that the child should be instructed in the arts, whichwill be useful to the man;" since a finished scholar may emerge fromthe head of Westminster or Eton, in total ignorance of the business andconversation of English gentlemen in the latter end of the eighteenthcentury. But these schools may assume the merit of teaching all thatthey pretend to teach, the Latin and Greek languages: they deposit inthe hands of a disciple the keys of two valuable chests; nor can hecomplain, if they are afterwards lost or neglected by his own fault. Thenecessity of leading in equal ranks so many unequal powers of capacityand application, will prolong to eight or ten years the juvenilestudies, which might be despatched in half that time by the skilfulmaster of a single pupil. Yet even the repetition of exercise anddiscipline contributes to fix in a vacant mind the verbal science ofgrammar and prosody: and the private or voluntary student, who possessesthe sense and spirit of the classics, may offend, by a false quantity, the scrupulous ear of a well-flogged critic. For myself, I must becontent with a very small share of the civil and literary fruits of apublic school. In the space of two years (1749, 1750), interrupted bydanger and debility, I painfully climbed into the third form; andmy riper age was left to acquire the beauties of the Latin, and therudiments of the Greek tongue. Instead of audaciously mingling in thesports, the quarrels, and the connections of our little world, I wasstill cherished at home under the maternal wing of my aunt; and myremoval from Westminster long preceded the approach of manhood. 

The violence and variety of my complaint, which had excused my frequentabsence from Westminster School, at length engaged Mrs. Porten, withthe advice of physicians, to conduct me to Bath: at the end of theMichaelmas vacation (1750) she quitted me with reluctance, and Iremained several months under the care of a trusty maid-servant. Astrange nervous affection, which alternately contracted my legs, andproduced, without any visible symptoms, the most excruciating pain, wasineffectually opposed by the various methods of bathing and pumping. From Bath I was transported to Winchester, to the house of a physician;and after the failure of his medical skill, we had again recourse to thevirtues of the Bath waters. During the intervals of these fits, I movedwith my father to Beriton and Putney; and a short unsuccessful trialwas attempted to renew my attendance at Westminster School. But myinfirmities could not be reconciled with the hours and discipline of apublic seminary; and instead of a domestic tutor, who might have watchedthe favourable moments, and gently advanced the progress of my learning, my father was too easily content with such occasional teachers as thedifferent places of my residence could supply. I was never forced, and seldom was I persuaded, to admit these lessons: yet I read with aclergyman at Bath some odes of Horace, and several episodes of Virgil, which gave me an imperfect and transient enjoyment of the Latinpoets. It might now be apprehended that I should continue for lifean illiterate cripple; but, as I approached my sixteenth year, Naturedisplayed in my favour her mysterious energies: my constitution wasfortified and fixed; and my disorders, instead of growing with my growthand strengthening with my strength, most wonderfully vanished. I havenever possessed or abused the insolence of health: but since that timefew persons have been more exempt from real or imaginary ills; and, tillI am admonished by the gout, the reader will no more be troubled withthe history of my bodily complaints. My unexpected recovery againencouraged the hope of my education; and I was placed at Esher, inSurrey, in the house of the Reverend Mr. Philip Francis, in a pleasantspot, which promised to unite the various benefits of air, exercise, and study (Jan. , 1752). The translator of Horace might have taught me torelish the Latin poets, had not my friends discovered in a few weeks, that he preferred the pleasures of London, to the instruction of hispupils. My father's perplexity at this time, rather than his prudence, was urged to embrace a singular and desperate measure. Withoutpreparation or delay he carried me to Oxford; and I was matriculated inthe university as a gentleman commoner of Magdalen college, before I hadaccomplished the fifteenth year of my age (April 3, 1752). 

The curiosity, which had been implanted in my infant mind, was stillalive and active; but my reason was not sufficiently informed tounderstand the value, or to lament the loss, of three precious yearsfrom my entrance at Westminster to my admission at Oxford. Insteadof repining at my long and frequent confinement to the chamber or thecouch, I secretly rejoiced in those infirmities, which delivered me fromthe exercises of the school, and the society of my equals. As often asI was tolerably exempt from danger and pain, reading, free desultoryreading, was the employment and comfort of my solitary hours. AtWestminster, my aunt sought only to amuse and indulge me; in my stationsat Bath and Winchester, at Beriton and Putney, a false compassionrespected my sufferings; and I was allowed, without controul or advice, to gratify the wanderings of an unripe taste. My indiscriminate appetitesubsided by degrees in the historic line: and since philosophy hasexploded all innate ideas and natural propensities, I must ascribe thischoice to the assiduous perusal of the Universal History, as the octavovolumes successively appeared. This unequal work, and a treatise ofHearne, the Ductor historicus, referred and introduced me to the Greekand Roman historians, to as many at least as were accessible to anEnglish reader. All that I could find were greedily devoured, fromLittlebury's lame Herodotus, and Spelman's valuable Xenophon, to thepompous folios of Gordon's Tacitus, and a ragged Procopius of thebeginning of the last century. The cheap acquisition of so muchknowledge confirmed my dislike to the study of languages; and I arguedwith Mrs. Porten, that, were I master of Greek and Latin, I mustinterpret to myself in English the thoughts of the original, and thatsuch extemporary versions must be inferior to the elaborate translationsof professed scholars; a silly sophism, which could not easily beconfuted by a person ignorant of any other language than her own. Fromthe ancient I leaped to the modern world: many crude lumps of Speed, Rapin, Mezeray, Davila, Machiavel, Father Paul, Bower, &c. , I devouredlike so many novels; and I swallowed with the same voracious appetitethe descriptions of India and China, of Mexico and Peru. 

My first introduction to the historic scenes, which have since engagedso many years of my life, must be ascribed to an accident. In thesummer of 1751, I accompanied my father on a visit to Mr. Hoare's, inWiltshire; but I was less delighted with the beauties of Stourhead, than with discovering in the library a common book, the Continuationof Echard's Roman History, which is indeed executed with more skilland taste than the previous work. To me the reigns of the successors ofConstantine were absolutely new; and I was immersed in the passageof the Goths over the Danube, when the summons of the dinner-bellreluctantly dragged me from my intellectual feast. This transient glanceserved rather to irritate than to appease my curiosity; and as soon asI returned to Bath I procured the second and third volumes of Howel'sHistory of the World, which exhibit the Byzantine period on a largerscale. Mahomet and his Saracens soon fixed my attention; and someinstinct of criticism directed me to the genuine sources. Simon Ockley, an original in every sense, first opened my eyes; and I was led from onebook to another, till I had ranged round the circle of Oriental history. Before I was sixteen, I had exhausted all that could be learned inEnglish of the Arabs and Persians, the Tartars and Turks; and the sameardour urged me to guess at the French of D'Herbelot, and toconstrue the barbarous Latin of Pocock's Abulfaragius. Such vague andmultifarious reading could not teach me to think, to write, or to act;and the only principle that darted a ray of light into the indigestedchaos, was an early and rational application to the order of time andplace. The maps of Cellarius and Wells imprinted in my mind thepicture of ancient geography: from Stranchius I imbibed the elements ofchronology: the Tables of Helvicus and Anderson, the Annals of Usherand Prideaux, distinguished the connection of events, and engraved themultitude of names and dates in a clear and indelible series. But in thediscussion of the first ages I overleaped the bounds of modesty and use. In my childish balance I presumed to weigh the systems of Scaligerand Petavius, of Marsham and Newton, which I could seldom study inthe originals; and my sleep has been disturbed by the difficulty ofreconciling the Septuagint with the Hebrew computation. I arrived atOxford with a stock of erudition, that might have puzzled a doctor, anda degree of ignorance, of which a school-boy would have been ashamed. 

At the conclusion of this first period of my life, I am tempted to entera protest against the trite and lavish praise of the happiness of ourboyish years, which is echoed with so much affectation in the world. That happiness I have never known, that time I have never regretted; andwere my poor aunt still alive, she would bear testimony to the early andconstant uniformity of my sentiments. It will indeed be replied, that Iam not a competent judge; that pleasure is incompatible with pain; thatjoy is excluded from sickness; and that the felicity of a schoolboyconsists in the perpetual motion of thoughtless and playful agility, inwhich I was never qualified to excel. My name, it is most true, couldnever be enrolled among the sprightly race, the idle progeny of Eton orWestminster, "Who foremost may delight to cleave, With pliant arm, the glassy wave, Or urge the flying ball. "

The poet may gaily describe the short hours of recreation; but heforgets the daily tedious labours of the school, which is approachedeach morning with anxious and reluctant steps. 

A traveller, who visits Oxford or Cambridge, is surprised and edifiedby the apparent order and tranquillity that prevail in the seats of theEnglish muses. In the most celebrated universities of Holland, Germany, and Italy, the students, who swarm from different countries, are looselydispersed in private lodgings at the houses of the burghers: they dressaccording to their fancy and fortune; and in the intemperate quarrelsof youth and wine, their swords, though less frequently than of old, aresometimes stained with each other's blood. The use of arms is banishedfrom our English universities; the uniform habit of the academics, thesquare cap, and black gown, is adapted to the civil and even clericalprofession; and from the doctor in divinity to the under-graduate, thedegrees of learning and age are externally distinguished. Instead ofbeing scattered in a town, the students of Oxford and Cambridge areunited in colleges; their maintenance is provided at their own expense, or that of the founders; and the stated hours of the hall and chapelrepresent the discipline of a regular, and, as it were, a religiouscommunity. The eyes of the traveller are attracted by the size or beautyof the public edifices; and the principal colleges appear to be somany palaces, which a liberal nation has erected and endowed for thehabitation of science. My own introduction to the university of Oxfordforms a new aera in my life; and at the distance of forty years I stillremember my first emotions of surprise and satisfaction. In my fifteenthyear I felt myself suddenly raised from a boy to a man: the persons, whom I respected as my superiors in age and academical rank, entertainedme with every mark of attention and civility; and my vanity wasflattered by the velvet cap and silk gown, which distinguish a gentlemancommoner from a plebeian student. A decent allowance, more money thana schoolboy had ever seen, was at my own disposal; and I might command, among the tradesmen of Oxford, an indefinite and dangerous latitude ofcredit. A key was delivered into my hands, which gave me the free use ofa numerous and learned library; my apartment consisted of three elegantand well-furnished rooms in the new building, a stately pile, ofMagdalen College; and the adjacent walks, had they been frequented byPlato's disciples, might have been compared to the Attic shade on thebanks of the Ilissus. Such was the fair prospect of my entrance (April3, 1752) into the university of Oxford. 

A venerable prelate, whose taste and erudition must reflect honour onthe society in which they were formed, has drawn a very interestingpicture of his academical life. --" I was educated (says Bishop Lowth) inthe UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. I enjoyed all the advantages, both public andprivate, which that famous seat of learning so largely affords. I spentmany years in that illustrious society, in a well-regulated courseof useful discipline and studies, and in the agreeable and improvingcommerce of gentlemen and of scholars; in a society where emulationwithout envy, ambition without jealousy, contention without animosity, incited industry, and awakened genius; where a liberal pursuit ofknowledge, and a genuine freedom of thought, were raised, encouraged, and pushed forward by example, by commendation, and by authority. Ibreathed the same atmosphere that the HOOKERS, the CHILLINGWORTHS, andthe LOCKES had breathed before; whose benevolence and humanity were asextensive as their vast genius and comprehensive knowledge; who alwaystreated their adversaries with civility and respect; who made candour, moderation, and liberal judgment as much the rule and law as the subjectof their discourse. And do you reproach me with my education in thisplace, and with my relation to this most respectable body, which I shallalways esteem my greatest advantage and my highest honour?" I transcribewith pleasure this eloquent passage, without examining what benefits orwhat rewards were derived by Hooker, or Chillingworth, or Locke, fromtheir academical institution; without inquiring, whether in this angrycontroversy the spirit of Lowth himself is purified from the intolerantzeal, which Warburton had ascribed to the genius of the place. It mayindeed be observed, that the atmosphere of Oxford did not agree withMr. Locke's constitution; and that the philosopher justly despised theacademical bigots, who expelled his person and condemned his principles. The expression of gratitude is a virtue and a pleasure: a liberal mindwill delight to cherish and celebrate the memory of its parents; and theteachers of science are the parents of the mind. I applaud the filialpiety, which it is impossible for me to imitate; since I must notconfess an imaginary debt, to assume the merit of a just or generousretribution. To the university of Oxford I acknowledge no obligation;and she will as cheerfully renounce me for a son, as I am willing todisclaim her for a mother. I spent fourteen months at Magdalen College;they proved the fourteen months the most idle and unprofitable ofmy whole life: the reader will pronounce between the school and thescholar; but I cannot affect to believe that Nature had disqualified mefor all literary pursuits. The specious and ready excuse of my tenderage, imperfect preparation, and hasty departure, may doubtless bealleged; nor do I wish to defraud such excuses of their proper weight. Yet in my sixteenth year I was not devoid of capacity or application;even my childish reading had displayed an early though blind propensityfor books; and the shallow flood might have been taught to flow in adeep channel and a clear stream. In the discipline of a well-constitutedacademy, under the guidance of skilful and vigilant professors, I shouldgradually have risen from translations to originals, from the Latinto the Greek classics, from dead languages to living science: my hourswould have been occupied by useful and agreeable studies, the wanderingsof fancy would have been restrained, and I should have escaped thetemptations of idleness, which finally precipitated my departure fromOxford. 

Perhaps in a separate annotation I may coolly examine the fabulousand real antiquities of our sister universities, a question which haskindled such fierce and foolish disputes among their fanatic sons. Inthe meanwhile it will be acknowledged that these venerable bodies aresufficiently old to partake of all the prejudices and infirmities ofage. The schools of Oxford and Cambridge were founded in a dark age offalse and barbarous science; and they are still tainted with the vicesof their origin. Their primitive discipline was adapted to the educationof priests and monks; and the government still remains in the hands ofthe clergy, an order of men whose manners are remote from the presentworld, and whose eyes are dazzled by the light of philosophy. The legalincorporation of these societies by the charters of popes and kingshad given them a monopoly of the public instruction; and the spirit ofmonopolists is narrow, lazy, and oppressive; their work is more costlyand less productive than that of independent artists; and the newimprovements so eagerly grasped by the competition of freedom, areadmitted with slow and sullen reluctance in those proud corporations, above the fear of a rival, and below the confession of an error. Wemay scarcely hope that any reformation will be a voluntary act; and sodeeply are they rooted in law and prejudice, that even the omnipotenceof parliament would shrink from an inquiry into the state and abuses ofthe two universities. 

The use of academical degrees, as old as the thirteenth century, isvisibly borrowed from the mechanic corporations; in which an apprentice, after serving his time, obtains a testimonial of his skill, and alicence to practise his trade and mystery. It is not my design todepreciate those honours, which could never gratify or disappointmy ambition; and I should applaud the institution, if the degreesof bachelor or licentiate were bestowed as the reward of manly andsuccessful study: if the name and rank of doctor or master were strictlyreserved for the professors of science, who have approved their title tothe public esteem. 

In all the universities of Europe, excepting our own, the languages andsciences are distributed among a numerous list of effective professors:the students, according to their taste, their calling, and theirdiligence, apply themselves to the proper masters; and in the annualrepetition of public and private lectures, these masters are assiduouslyemployed. Our curiosity may inquire what number of professors hasbeen instituted at Oxford? (for I shall now confine myself to my ownuniversity;) by whom are they appointed, and what may be the probablechances of merit or incapacity; how many are stationed to the threefaculties, and how many are left for the liberal arts? what is the form, and what the substance, of their lessons? But all these questions aresilenced by one short and singular answer, "That in the University ofOxford, the greater part of the public professors have for these manyyears given up altogether even the pretence of teaching. " Incredible asthe fact may appear, I must rest my belief on the positive and impartialevidence of a master of moral and political wisdom, who had himselfresided at Oxford. Dr. Adam Smith assigns as the cause of theirindolence, that, instead of being paid by voluntary contributions, whichwould urge them to increase the number, and to deserve the gratitudeof their pupils, the Oxford professors are secure in the enjoyment of afixed stipend, without the necessity of labour, or the apprehension ofcontroul. It has indeed been observed, nor is the observation absurd, that excepting in experimental sciences, which demand a costly apparatusand a dexterous hand, the many valuable treatises, that have beenpublished on every subject of learning, may now supersede the ancientmode of oral instruction. Were this principle true in its utmostlatitude, I should only infer that the offices and salaries, which arebecome useless, ought without delay to be abolished. But there stillremains a material difference between a book and a professor; the hourof the lecture enforces attendance; attention is fixed by the presence, the voice, and the occasional questions of the teacher; the most idlewill carry something away; and the more diligent will compare theinstructions, which they have heard in the school, with the volumes, which they peruse in their chamber. The advice of a skilful professorwill adapt a course of reading to every mind and every situation; hisauthority will discover, admonish, and at last chastise the negligenceof his disciples; and his vigilant inquiries will ascertain the steps oftheir literary progress. Whatever science he professes he may illustratein a series of discourses, composed in the leisure of his closet, pronounced on public occasions, and finally delivered to the press. Iobserve with pleasure, that in the university of Oxford Dr. Lowth, with equal eloquence and erudition, has executed this task in hisincomparable Praelections on the Poetry of the Hebrews. 

The college of St. Mary Magdalen was founded in the fifteenth century byWainfleet, bishop of Winchester; and now consists of a president, fortyfellows, and a number of inferior students. It is esteemed one of thelargest and most wealthy of our academical corporations, which may becompared to the Benedictine abbeys of Catholic countries; and I haveloosely heard that the estates belonging to Magdalen College, which areleased by those indulgent landlords at small quit-rents and occasionalfines, might be raised, in the hands of private avarice, to an annualrevenue of nearly thirty thousand pounds. Our colleges are supposed tobe schools of science, as well as of education; nor is it unreasonableto expect that a body of literary men, devoted to a life of celibacy, exempt from the care of their own subsistence, and amply provided withbooks, should devote their leisure to the prosecution of study, and thatsome effects of their studies should be manifested to the world. Theshelves of their library groan under the weight of the Benedictinefolios, of the editions of the fathers, and the collections of themiddle ages, which have issued from the single abbey of St. Germainde Prez at Paris. A composition of genius must be the offspring of onemind; but such works of industry, as may be divided among many hands, and must be continued during many years, are the peculiar province of alaborious community. If I inquire into the manufactures of the monks ofMagdalen, if I extend the inquiry to the other colleges of Oxford andCambridge, a silent blush, or a scornful frown, will be the only reply. The fellows or monks of my time were decent easy men, who supinelyenjoyed the gifts of the founder; their days were filled by a series ofuniform employments; the chapel and the hall, the coffee-house and thecommon room, till they retired, weary and well satisfied, to a longslumber. From the toil of reading, or thinking, or writing, theyhad absolved their conscience; and the first shoots of learning andingenuity withered on the ground, without yielding any fruits to theowners or the public. As a gentleman commoner, I was admitted to thesociety of the fellows, and fondly expected that some questionsof literature would be the amusing and instructive topics of theirdiscourse. Their conversation stagnated in a round of college business, Tory politics, personal anecdotes, and private scandal: their dulland deep potations excused the brisk intemperance of youth; and theirconstitutional toasts were not expressive of the most lively loyalty forthe house of Hanover. A general election was now approaching: thegreat Oxfordshire contest already blazed with all the malevolence ofparty-zeal. Magdalen College was devoutly attached to the old interest!and the names of Wenman and Dashwood were more frequently pronounced, than those of Cicero and Chrysostom. The example of the senior fellowscould not inspire the under-graduates with a liberal spirit or studiousemulation; and I cannot describe, as I never knew, the disciplineof college. Some duties may possibly have been imposed on the poorscholars, whose ambition aspired to the peaceful honours of a fellowship(ascribi quietis ordinibus - - - - Deorum); but no independent memberswere admitted below the rank of a gentleman commoner, and our velvetcap was the cap of liberty. A tradition prevailed that some of ourpredecessors had spoken Latin declamations in the hall; but of thisancient custom no vestige remained: the obvious methods of publicexercises and examinations were totally unknown; and I have never heardthat either the president or the society interfered in the privateeconomy of the tutors and their pupils. 

The silence of the Oxford professors, which deprives the youth of publicinstruction, is imperfectly supplied by the tutors, as they are styled, of the several colleges. Instead of confining themselves to a singlescience, which had satisfied the ambition of Burman or Bernoulli, theyteach, or promise to teach, either history or mathematics, or ancientliterature, or moral philosophy; and as it is possible that they maybe defective in all, it is highly probable that of some they will beignorant. They are paid, indeed, by voluntary contributions; buttheir appointment depends on the head of the house: their diligenceis voluntary, and will consequently be languid, while the pupilsthemselves, or their parents, are not indulged in the liberty of choiceor change. The first tutor into whose hands I was resigned appears tohave been one of the best of the tribe: Dr. Waldegrave was a learned andpious man, of a mild disposition, strict morals, and abstemious life, who seldom mingled in the politics or the jollity of the college. Buthis knowledge of the world was confined to the university; his learningwas of the last, rather than the present age; his temper was indolent;his faculties, which were not of the first rate, had been relaxed bythe climate, and he was satisfied, like his fellows, with the slightand superficial discharge of an important trust. As soon as my tutor hadsounded the insufficiency of his pupil in school-learning, he proposedthat we should read every morning from ten to eleven the comediesof Terence. The sum of my improvement in the university of Oxford isconfined to three or four Latin plays; and even the study of an elegantclassic, which might have been illustrated by a comparison of ancientand modern theatres, was reduced to a dry and literal interpretation ofthe author's text. During the first weeks I constantly attended theselessons in my tutor's room; but as they appeared equally devoid ofprofit and pleasure I was once tempted to try the experiment of a formalapology. The apology was accepted with a smile. I repeated the offencewith less ceremony; the excuse was admitted with the same indulgence:the slightest motive of laziness or indisposition, the most triflingavocation at home or abroad, was allowed as a worthy impediment; nordid my tutor appear conscious of my absence or neglect. Had the hour oflecture been constantly filled, a single hour was a small portion ofmy academic leisure. No plan of study was recommended for my use; noexercises were prescribed for his inspection; and, at the most preciousseason of youth, whole days and weeks were suffered to elapse withoutlabour or amusement, without advice or account. I should have listenedto the voice of reason and of my tutor; his mild behaviour had gained myconfidence. I preferred his society to that of the younger students; andin our evening walks to the top of Heddington-hill, we freely conversedon a variety of subjects. Since the days of Pocock and Hyde, Orientallearning has always been the pride of Oxford, and I once expressed aninclination to study Arabic. His prudence discouraged this childishfancy; but he neglected the fair occasion of directing the ardour of acurious mind. During my absence in the summer vacation, Dr. Waldegraveaccepted a college living at Washington in Sussex, and on my return I nolonger found him at Oxford. From that time I have lost sight of my firsttutor; but at the end of thirty years (1781) he was still alive; and thepractice of exercise and temperance had entitled him to a healthy oldage. 

The long recess between the Trinity and Michaelmas terms empties thecolleges of Oxford, as well as the courts of Westminster. I spent, atmy father's house at Beriton in Hampshire, the two months of Augustand September. It is whimsical enough, that as soon as I left MagdalenCollege, my taste for books began to revive; but it was the same blindand boyish taste for the pursuit of exotic history. Unprovided withoriginal learning, unformed in the habits of thinking, unskilled in thearts of composition, I resolved to write a book. The title of this firstEssay, The Age of Sesostris, was perhaps suggested by Voltaire's Ageof Lewis XIV. Which was new and popular; but my sole object was toinvestigate the probable date of the life and reign of the conquerorof Asia. I was then enamoured of Sir John Marsham's Canon Chronicus; anelaborate work, of whose merits and defects I was not yet qualified tojudge. According to his specious, though narrow plan, I settled my heroabout the time of Solomon, in the tenth century before the Christianera. It was therefore incumbent on me, unless I would adopt Sir IsaacNewton's shorter chronology, to remove a formidable objection; and mysolution, for a youth of fifteen, is not devoid of ingenuity. Inhis version of the Sacred Books, Manetho, high priest has identifiedSethosis, or Sesostris, with the elder brother of Danaus, who landed inGreece, according to the Parian Marble, fifteen hundred and ten yearsbefore Christ. But in my supposition the high priest is guilty of avoluntary error; flattery is the prolific parent of falsehood. Manetho'sHistory of Egypt is dedicated to Ptolemy Philadelphus, who derived afabulous or illegitimate pedigree from the Macedonian kings of the raceof Hercules. Danaus is the ancestor of Hercules; and after the failureof the elder branch, his descendants, the Ptolemies, are the solerepresentatives of the royal family, and may claim by inheritance thekingdom which they hold by conquest. Such were my juvenile discoveries;at a riper age I no longer presume to connect the Greek, the Jewish, andthe Egyptian antiquities, which are lost in a distant cloud. Nor is thisthe only instance, in which the belief and knowledge of the child aresuperseded by the more rational ignorance of the man. During my stayat Beriton, my infant-labour was diligently prosecuted, without muchinterruption from company or country diversions; and I already heard themusic of public applause. The discovery of my own weakness was thefirst symptom of taste. On my return to Oxford, the Age of Sesostris waswisely relinquished; but the imperfect sheets remained twenty years atthe bottom of a drawer, till, in a general clearance of papers (Nov. , 1772, ) they were committed to the flames. 

After the departure of Dr. Waldegrave, I was transferred, with his otherpupils, to his academical heir, whose literary character did not commandthe respect of the college. Dr--- well remembered that he had a salaryto receive, and only forgot that he had a duty to perform. Instead ofguiding the studies, and watching over the behaviour of his disciple, I was never summoned to attend even the ceremony of a lecture; and, excepting one voluntary visit to his rooms, during the eight months ofhis titular office, the tutor and pupil lived in the same college asstrangers to each other. The want of experience, of advice, and ofoccupation, soon betrayed me into some improprieties of conduct, ill-chosen company, late hours, and inconsiderate expense. My growingdebts might be secret; but my frequent absence was visible andscandalous: and a tour to Bath, a visit into Buckingham-shire, andfour excursions to London in the same winter, were costly and dangerousfrolics. They were, indeed, without a meaning, as without an excuse. Theirksomeness of a cloistered life repeatedly tempted me to wander; but mychief pleasure was that of travelling; and I was too young and bashfulto enjoy, like a Manly Oxonian in Town, the pleasures of London. In allthese excursions I eloped from Oxford; I returned to college; in a fewdays I eloped again, as if I had been an independent stranger in a hiredlodging, without once hearing the voice of admonition, without oncefeeling the hand of control. Yet my time was lost, my expenses weremultiplied, my behaviour abroad was unknown; folly as well as viceshould have awakened the attention of my superiors, and my tenderyears would have justified a more than ordinary degree of restraint anddiscipline. 

It might at least be expected, that an ecclesiastical school shouldinculcate the orthodox principles of religion. But our venerablemother had contrived to unite the opposite extremes of bigotry andindifference: an heretic, or unbeliever, was a monster in her eyes;but she was always, or often, or sometimes, remiss in the spiritualeducation of her own children. According to the statutes of theuniversity, every student, before he is matriculated, must subscribe hisassent to the thirty-nine articles of the church of England, whichare signed by more than read, and read by more than believe them. Myinsufficient age excused me, however, from the immediate performance ofthis legal ceremony; and the vice-chancellor directed me to return, assoon as I should have accomplished my fifteenth year; recommending me, in the mean while, to the instruction of my college. My college forgotto instruct: I forgot to return, and was myself forgotten by the firstmagistrate of the university. Without a single lecture, either publicor private, either christian or protestant, without any academicalsubscription, without any episcopal confirmation, I was left by the dimlight of my catechism to grope my way to the chapel and communion-table, where I was admitted, without a question, how far, or by what means, I might be qualified to receive the sacrament. Such almost incredibleneglect was productive of the worst mischiefs. From my childhood I hadbeen fond of religious disputation: my poor aunt has been often puzzledby the mysteries which she strove to believe; nor had the elastic springbeen totally broken by the weight of the atmosphere of Oxford. Theblind activity of idleness urged me to advance without armour into thedangerous mazes of controversy; and at the age of sixteen, I bewilderedmyself in the errors of the church of Rome. 

The progress of my conversion may tend to illustrate, at least, thehistory of my own mind. It was not long since Dr. Middleton's freeinquiry had founded an alarm in the theological world: much ink and muchgall had been spilt in the defence of the primitive miracles; and thetwo dullest of their champions were crowned with academic honours bythe university of Oxford. The name of Middleton was unpopular; and hisproscription very naturally led me to peruse his writings, and those ofhis antagonists. His bold criticism, which approaches the precipice ofinfidelity, produced on my mind a singular effect; and had I perseveredin the communion of Rome, I should now apply to my own fortune theprediction of the Sibyl, --Via prima salutis, Quod minime reris, Graia, pandetur ab urbe. 

The elegance of style and freedom of argument were repelled by a shieldof prejudice. I still revered the character, or rather the names, of thesaints and fathers whom Dr. Middleton exposes; nor could he destroy myimplicit belief, that the gift of miraculous powers was continued in thechurch, during the first four or five centuries of Christianity. But Iwas unable to resist the weight of historical evidence, that withinthe same period most of the leading doctrines of popery were alreadyintroduced in theory and practice: nor was my conclusion absurd, thatmiracles are the test of truth, and that the church must be orthodox andpure, which was so often approved by the visible interposition of theDeity. The marvellous tales which are so boldly attested by the Basilsand Chrysostoms, the Austins and Jeroms, compelled me to embrace thesuperior merits of celibacy, the institution of the monastic life, the use of the sign of the cross, of holy oil, and even of images, theinvocation of saints, the worship of relics, the rudiments of purgatoryin prayers for the dead, and the tremendous mystery of the sacrifice ofthe body and blood of Christ, which insensibly swelled into the prodigyof transubstantiation. In these dispositions, and already more than halfa convert, I formed an unlucky intimacy with a young gentleman of ourcollege, whose name I shall spare. With a character less resolute, Mr. --- had imbibed the same religious opinions; and some Popish books, I know not through what channel, were conveyed into his possession. Iread, I applauded, I believed the English translations of two famousworks of Bossuet, Bishop of Meaux, the Exposition of the CatholicDoctrine, and the History of the Protestant Variations, achieved myconversion, and I surely fell by a noble hand. I have since examinedthe originals with a more discerning eye, and shall not hesitateto pronounce, that Bossuet is indeed a master of all the weapons ofcontroversy. In the Exposition, a specious apology, the orator assumes, with consummate art, the tone of candour and simplicity; and theten-horned monster is transformed, at his magic touch, into themilk-white hind, who must be loved as soon as she is seen. In theHistory, a bold and well-aimed attack, he displays, with a happy mixtureof narrative and argument, the faults and follies, the changesand contradictions of our first reformers; whose variations (as hedexterously contends) are the mark of historical error, while theperpetual unity of the catholic church is the sign and test ofinfallible truth. To my present feelings it seems incredible thatI should ever believe that I believed in transubstantiation. But myconqueror oppressed me with the sacramental words, "Hoc est corpusmeum, " and dashed against each other the figurative half-meanings ofthe protestant sects: every objection was resolved into omnipotence; andafter repeating at St. Mary's the Athanasian creed, I humbly acquiescedin the mystery of the real presence. 

 "To take up half on trust, and half to try, Name it not faith, but bungling bigotry, Both knave and fool, the merchant we may call, To pay great sums, and to compound the small, For who would break with Heaven, and would not break for all?"

No sooner had I settled my new religion than I resolved to professmyself a catholic. Youth is sincere and impetuous; and a momentary glowof enthusiasm had raised me above all temporal considerations. 

By the keen protestants, who would gladly retaliate the example ofpersecution, a clamour is raised of the increase of popery: and they arealways loud to declaim against the toleration of priests and jesuits, who pervert so many of his majesty's subjects from their religion andallegiance. On the present occasion, the fall of one or more of her sonsdirected this clamour against the university: and it was confidentlyaffirmed that popish missionaries were suffered, under variousdisguises, to introduce themselves into the colleges of Oxford. Butjustice obliges me to declare, that, as far as relates to myself, thisassertion is false; and that I never conversed with a priest, or evenwith a papist, till my resolution from books was absolutely fixed. Inmy last excursion to London, I addressed myself to Mr. Lewis, a Romancatholic bookseller in Russell-street, Covent Garden, who recommendedme to a priest, of whose name and order I am at present ignorant. In ourfirst interview he soon discovered that persuasion was needless. Aftersounding the motives and merits of my conversion he consented to admitme into the pale of the church; and at his feet on the eighth of June1753, I solemnly, though privately, abjured the errors of heresy. Theseduction of an English youth of family and fortune was an act of asmuch danger as glory; but he bravely overlooked the danger, of which Iwas not then sufficiently informed. "Where a person is reconciled tothe see of Rome, or procures others to be reconciled, the offence (saysBlackstone) amounts to high treason. " And if the humanity of the agewould prevent the execution of this sanguinary statute, there were otherlaws of a less odious cast, which condemned the priest to perpetualimprisonment, and transferred the proselyte's estate to his nearestrelation. An elaborate controversial epistle, approved by my director, and addressed to my father, announced and justified the step which Ihad taken. My father was neither a bigot nor a philosopher; but hisaffection deplored the loss of an only son; and his good sense wasastonished at my strange departure from the religion of my country. Inthe first sally of passion he divulged a secret which prudence mighthave suppressed, and the gates of Magdalen College were for ever shutagainst my return. Many years afterwards, when the name of Gibbon wasbecome as notorious as that of Middleton, it was industriously whisperedat Oxford, that the historian had formerly "turned papist;" my characterstood exposed to the reproach of inconstancy; and this invidious topicwould have been handled without mercy by my opponents, could they haveseparated my cause from that of the university. For my own part, I amproud of an honest sacrifice of interest to conscience. I can neverblush, if my tender mind was entangled in the sophistry that seducedthe acute and manly understandings of CHILLINGWORTH and BAYLE, whoafterwards emerged from superstition to scepticism. 

While Charles the First governed England, and was himself governed bya catholic queen, it cannot be denied that the missionaries of Romelaboured with impunity and success in the court, the country, and eventhe universities. One of the sheep, --Whom the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said, is Mr. William Chillingworth, Master of Arts, and Fellow of TrinityCollege, Oxford; who, at the ripe age of twenty-eight years, waspersuaded to elope from Oxford, to the English seminary at Douay inFlanders. Some disputes with Fisher, a subtle jesuit, might firstawaken him from the prejudices of education; but he yielded to his ownvictorious argument, "that there must be somewhere an infallible judge;and that the church of Rome is the only Christian society which eitherdoes or can pretend to that character. " After a short trial of a fewmonths, Mr. Chillingworth was again tormented by religious scruples:he returned home, resumed his studies, unravelled his mistakes, anddelivered his mind from the yoke of authority and superstition. His newcreed was built on the principle, that the Bible is our sole judge, and private reason our sole interpreter: and he ably maintains thisprinciple in the Religion of a Protestant, a book which, after startlingthe doctors of Oxford, is still esteemed the most solid defence of theReformation. The learning, the virtue, the recent merits of the author, entitled him to fair preferment: but the slave had now broken hisfetters; and the more he weighed, the less was he disposed to subscribeto the thirty-nine articles of the church of England. In a privateletter he declares, with all the energy of language, that he could notsubscribe to them without subscribing to his own damnation; and that ifever he should depart from this immoveable resolution, he would allowhis friends to think him a madman, or an atheist. As the letter iswithout a date, we cannot ascertain the number of weeks or months thatelapsed between this passionate abhorrence and the Salisbury Register, which is still extant. "Ego Gulielmus Chillingworth, . .. Omnibus hiscearticulis. .. .. .. Et singulis in iisdem contentis volens, et ex animosubscribo, et consensum meum iisdem praebeo. 20 die Julii 1638. " But, alas! the chancellor and prebendary of Sarum soon deviated from his ownsubscription: as he more deeply scrutinized the article of the Trinity, neither scripture nor the primitive fathers could long uphold hisorthodox belief; and he could not but confess, "that the doctrine ofArius is either the truth, or at least no damnable heresy. " From thismiddle region of the air, the descent of his reason would naturally reston the firmer ground of the Socinians: and if we may credit a doubtfulstory, and the popular opinion, his anxious inquiries at last subsidedin philosophic indifference. So conspicuous, however, were the candourof his nature and the innocence of his heart, that this apparent levitydid not affect the reputation of Chillingworth. His frequent changesproceeded from too nice an inquisition into truth. His doubts grew outof himself; he assisted them with all the strength of his reason: hewas then too hard for himself; but finding as little quiet and reposein those victories, he quickly recovered, by a new appeal to his ownjudgment: so that in all his sallies and retreats, he was in fact hisown convert. 

Bayle was the son of a Calvinist minister in a remote province ofFrance, at the foot of the Pyrenees. For the benefit of education, the protestants were tempted to risk their children in the catholicuniversities; and in the twenty-second year of his age, young Baylewas seduced by the arts and arguments of the jesuits of Toulouse. Heremained about seventeen months (Mar. 19 1669--Aug. 19 1670) in theirhands, a voluntary captive: and a letter to his parents, which the newconvert composed or subscribed (April 15 1670), is darkly tingedwith the spirit of popery. But Nature had designed him to think ashe pleased, and to speak as he thought: his piety was offended by theexcessive worship of creatures; and the study of physics convinced himof the impossibility of transubstantiation, which is abundantly refutedby the testimony of our senses. His return to the communion of a fallingsect was a bold and disinterested step, that exposed him to the rigourof the laws; and a speedy flight to Geneva protected him from theresentment of his spiritual tyrants, unconscious as they were of thefull value of the prize, which they had lost. Had Bayle adhered to thecatholic church, had he embraced the ecclesiastical profession, thegenius and favour of such a proselyte might have aspired to wealth andhonours in his native country: but the hypocrite would have found lesshappiness in the comforts of a benefice, or the dignity of a mitre, than he enjoyed at Rotterdam in a private state of exile, indigence, andfreedom. Without a country, or a patron, or a prejudice, he claimed theliberty and subsisted by the labours of his pen: the inequality of hisvoluminous works is explained and excused by his alternately writing forhimself, for the booksellers, and for posterity; and if a severe criticwould reduce him to a single folio, that relic, like the books of theSibyl, would become still more valuable. A calm and lofty spectator ofthe religious tempest, the philosopher of Rotterdam condemned with equalfirmness the persecution of Lewis the Fourteenth, and the republicanmaxims of the Calvinists; their vain prophecies, and the intolerantbigotry which sometimes vexed his solitary retreat. In reviewing thecontroversies of the times, he turned against each other the argumentsof the disputants; successively wielding the arms of the catholics andprotestants, he proves that neither the way of authority, nor the wayof examination can afford the multitude any test of religious truth; anddexterously concludes that custom and education must be the sole groundsof popular belief. The ancient paradox of Plutarch, that atheism isless pernicious than superstition, acquires a tenfold vigor, when it isadorned with the colours of his wit, and pointed with the acuteness ofhis logic. His critical dictionary is a vast repository of facts andopinions; and he balances the false religions in his sceptical scales, till the opposite quantities (if I may use the language of algebra)annihilate each other. The wonderful power which he so boldly exercised, of assembling doubts and objections, had tempted him jocosely to assumethe title of the {Greek expression} Zeus, the cloud-compelling Jove;and in a conversation with the ingenious Abbe (afterwards Cardinal) dePolignac, he freely disclosed his universal Pyrrhonism. "I am mosttruly (said Bayle) a protestant; for I protest indifferently against allsystems and all sects. "

The academical resentment, which I may possibly have provoked, willprudently spare this plain narrative of my studies, or rather of myidleness; and of the unfortunate event which shortened the term of myresidence at Oxford. But it may be suggested, that my father was unluckyin the choice of a society, and the chance of a tutor. It will perhapsbe asserted, that in the lapse of forty years many improvements havetaken place in the college and in the university. I am not unwillingto believe, that some tutors might have been found more active than Dr. Waldgrave, and less contemptible than Dr. ****. About the same time, andin the same walk, a Bentham was still treading in the footsteps of aBurton, whose maxims he had adopted, and whose life he had published. The biographer indeed preferred the school-logic to the new philosophy, Burgursdicius to Locke; and the hero appears, in his own writings, astiff and conceited pedant. Yet even these men, according to the measureof their capacity, might be diligent and useful; and it is recorded ofBurton, that he taught his pupils what he knew; some Latin, some Greek, some ethics and metaphysics; referring them to proper masters forthe languages and sciences of which he was ignorant. At a more recentperiod, many students have been attracted by the merit and reputationof Sir William Scott, then a tutor in University College, and nowconspicuous in the profession of the civil law: my personal acquaintancewith that gentleman has inspired me with a just esteem for his abilitiesand knowledge; and I am assured that his lectures on history wouldcompose, were they given to the public, a most valuable treatise. Underthe auspices of the present Archbishop of York, Dr. Markham, himself aneminent scholar, a more regular discipline has been introduced, as I amtold, at Christ Church; a course of classical and philosophical studiesis proposed, and even pursued, in that numerous seminary: learning hasbeen made a duty, a pleasure, and even a fashion; and several younggentlemen do honour to the college in which they have been educated. According to the will of the donor, the profit of the second part ofLord Clarendon's History has been applied to the establishment of ariding-school, that the polite exercises might be taught, I know notwith what success, in the university. The Vinerian professorship isof far more serious importance; the laws of his country are the firstscience of an Englishman of rank and fortune, who is called to be amagistrate, and may hope to be a legislator. This judicious institutionwas coldly entertained by the graver doctors, who complained (I haveheard the complaint) that it would take the young people from theirbooks: but Mr. Viner's benefaction is not unprofitable, since it has atleast produced the excellent commentaries of Sir William Blackstone. 

After carrying me to Putney, to the house of his friend Mr. Mallet, by whose philosophy I was rather scandalized than reclaimed, it wasnecessary for my father to form a new plan of education, and to devisesome method which, if possible, might effect the cure of my spiritualmalady. After much debate it was determined, from the advice andpersonal experience of Mr. Eliot (now Lord Eliot) to fix me, during someyears, at Lausanne in Switzerland. Mr. Frey, a Swiss gentleman of Basil, undertook the conduct of the journey: we left London the 19th of June, crossed the sea from Dover to Calais, travelled post through severalprovinces of France, by the direct road of St. Quentin, Rheims, Langres, and Besancon, and arrived the 30th of June at Lausanne, where I wasimmediately settled under the roof and tuition of Mr. Pavilliard, aCalvinist minister. 

The first marks of my father's displeasure rather astonished thanafflicted me: when he threatened to banish, and disown, and disinherita rebellious son, I cherished a secret hope that he would not be able orwilling to effect his menaces; and the pride of conscience encouraged meto sustain the honourable and important part which I was now acting. Myspirits were raised and kept alive by the rapid motion of my journey, the new and various scenes of the Continent, and the civility of Mr. Frey, a man of sense, who was not ignorant of books or the world. Butafter he had resigned me into Pavilliard's hands, and I was fixed in mynew habitation, I had leisure to contemplate the strange and melancholyprospect before me. My first complaint arose from my ignorance of thelanguage. In my childhood I had once studied the French grammar, and Icould imperfectly understand the easy prose of a familiar subject. Butwhen I was thus suddenly cast on a foreign land, I found myself deprivedof the use of speech and of hearing; and, during some weeks, incapablenot only of enjoying the pleasures of conversation, but even ofasking or answering a question in the common intercourse of life. To ahome-bred Englishman every object, every custom was offensive; but thenative of any country might have been disgusted with the generalaspect of his lodging and entertainment. I had now exchanged my elegantapartment in Magdalen College, for a narrow, gloomy street, the mostunfrequented of an unhandsome town, for an old inconvenient house, and for a small chamber ill-contrived and ill-furnished, which, on theapproach of Winter, instead of a companionable fire, must be warmed bythe dull invisible heat of a stove. From a man I was again degraded tothe dependence of a schoolboy. Mr. Pavilliard managed my expences, which had been reduced to a diminutive state: I received a small monthlyallowance for my pocket-money; and helpless and awkward as I have everbeen, I no longer enjoyed the indispensable comfort of a servant. Mycondition seemed as destitute of hope, as it was devoid of pleasure: Iwas separated for an indefinite, which appeared an infinite term from mynative country; and I had lost all connexion with my catholic friends. I have since reflected with surprise, that as the Romish clergy of everypart of Europe maintain a close correspondence with each other, theynever attempted, by letters or messages, to rescue me from the handsof the heretics, or at least to confirm my zeal and constancy in theprofession of the faith. Such was my first introduction to Lausanne; aplace where I spent nearly five years with pleasure and profit, whichI afterwards revisited without compulsion, and which I have finallyselected as the most grateful retreat for the decline of my life. 

But it is the peculiar felicity of youth that the most unpleasingobjects and events seldom make a deep or lasting impression; it forgetsthe past, enjoys the present, and anticipates the future. At theflexible age of sixteen I soon learned to endure, and gradually toadopt, the new forms of arbitrary manners: the real hardships of mysituation were alienated by time. Had I been sent abroad in a moresplendid style, such as the fortune and bounty of my father might havesupplied, I might have returned home with the same stock of languageand science, which our countrymen usually import from the Continent. An exile and a prisoner as I was, their example betrayed me into someirregularities of wine, of play, and of idle excursions: but I soon feltthe impossibility of associating with them on equal terms; and afterthe departure of my first acquaintance, I held a cold and civilcorrespondence with their successors. This seclusion from Englishsociety was attended with the most solid benefits. In the Pays de Vaud, the French language is used with less imperfection than in most of thedistant provinces of France: in Pavilliard's family, necessity compelledme to listen and to speak; and if I was at first disheartened by theapparent slowness, in a few months I was astonished by the rapidity ofmy progress. My pronunciation was formed by the constant repetition ofthe same sounds; the variety of words and idioms, the rules of grammar, and distinctions of genders, were impressed in my memory ease andfreedom were obtained by practice; correctness and elegance by labour;and before I was recalled home, French, in which I spontaneouslythought, was more familiar than English to my ear, my tongue, and mypen. The first effect of this opening knowledge was the revival of mylove of reading, which had been chilled at Oxford; and I soon turnedover, without much choice, almost all the French books in my tutor'slibrary. Even these amusements were productive of real advantage: mytaste and judgment were now somewhat riper. I was introduced to a newmode of style and literature: by the comparison of manners and opinions, my views were enlarged, my prejudices were corrected, and a copiousvoluntary abstract of the Histoire de l'Eglise et de l'Empire, by leSueur, may be placed in a middle line between my childish and my manlystudies. As soon as I was able to converse with the natives, I began tofeel some satisfaction in their company my awkward timidity was polishedand emboldened; and I frequented, for the first time, assemblies of menand women. The acquaintance of the Pavilliards prepared me by degreesfor more elegant society. I was received with kindness and indulgence inthe best families of Lausanne; and it was in one of these that I formedan intimate and lasting connection with Mr. Deyverdun, a young man of anamiable temper and excellent understanding. In the arts of fencing anddancing, small indeed was my proficiency; and some months were idlywasted in the riding-school. My unfitness to bodily exercise reconciledme to a sedentary life, and the horse, the favourite of my countrymen, never contributed to the pleasures of my youth. 

My obligations to the lessons of Mr. Pavilliard, gratitude will notsuffer me to forget: he was endowed with a clear head and a warm heart;his innate benevolence had assuaged the spirit of the church; he wasrational, because he was moderate: in the course of his studies hehad acquired a just though superficial knowledge of most branches ofliterature; by long practice, he was skilled in the arts of teaching;and he laboured with assiduous patience to know the character, gain theaffection, and open the mind of his English pupil. As soon as webegan to understand each other, he gently led me, from a blind andundistinguishing love of reading, into the path of instruction. Iconsented with pleasure that a portion of the morning hours shouldbe consecrated to a plan of modern history and geography, and to thecritical perusal of the French and Latin classics; and at each step Ifelt myself invigorated by the habits of application and method. Hisprudence repressed and dissembled some youthful sallies; and as soon asI was confirmed in the habits of industry and temperance, he gave thereins into my own hands. His favourable report of my behaviour andprogress gradually obtained some latitude of action and expence; and hewished to alleviate the hardships of my lodging and entertainment. Theprinciples of philosophy were associated with the examples of taste; andby a singular chance, the book, as well as the man, which contributedthe most effectually to my education, has a stronger claim on mygratitude than on my admiration. Mr. De Crousaz, the adversary of Bayleand Pope, is not distinguished by lively fancy or profound reflection;and even in his own country, at the end of a few years, his name andwritings are almost obliterated. But his philosophy had been formed inthe school of Locke, his divinity in that of Limborch and Le Clerc; ina long and laborious life, several generations of pupils were taught tothink, and even to write; his lessons rescued the academy of Lausannefrom Calvinistic prejudice; and he had the rare merit of diffusing amore liberal spirit among the clergy and people of the Pays de Vaud. Hissystem of logic, which in the last editions has swelled to six tediousand prolix volumes, may be praised as a clear and methodical abridgmentof the art of reasoning, from our simple ideas to the most complexoperations of the human understanding. This system I studied, andmeditated, and abstracted, till I have obtained the free command of anuniversal instrument, which I soon presumed to exercise on my catholicopinions. Pavilliard was not unmindful that his first task, his mostimportant duty, was to reclaim me from the errors of popery. Theintermixture of sects has rendered the Swiss clergy acute and learnedon the topics of controversy; and I have some of his letters in which hecelebrates the dexterity of his attack, and my gradual concessions aftera firm and well-managed defence. I was willing, and I am now willing, to allow him a handsome share of the honour of my conversion: yet I mustobserve, that it was principally effected by my private reflections;and I still remember my solitary transport at the discovery of aphilosophical argument against the doctrine of transubstantiation: thatthe text of scripture, which seems to inculcate the real presence, isattested only by a single sense--our sight; while the real presenceitself is disproved by three of our senses--the sight, the touch, andthe taste. The various articles of the Romish creed disappeared like adream; and after a full conviction, on Christmas-day, 1754, I receivedthe sacrament in the church of Lausanne. It was here that I suspended myreligious inquiries, acquiescing with implicit belief in the tenets andmysteries, which are adopted by the general consent of catholics andprotestants. 

Such, from my arrival at Lausanne, during the first eighteen or twentymonths (July 1753--March 1755), were my useful studies, the foundationof all my future improvements. But every man who rises above the commonlevel has received two educations: the first from his teachers; thesecond, more personal and important, from himself. He will not, likethe fanatics of the last age, define the moment of grace; but he cannotforget the aera of his life, in which his mind has expanded to itsproper form and dimensions. My worthy tutor had the good sense andmodesty to discern how far he could be useful: as soon as he felt thatI advanced beyond his speed and measure, he wisely left me to my genius;and the hours of lesson were soon lost in the voluntary labour of thewhole morning, and sometimes of the whole day. The desire of prolongingmy time, gradually confirmed the salutary habit of early rising, towhich I have always adhered, with some regard to seasons and situations;but it is happy for my eyes and my health, that my temperate ardour hasnever been seduced to trespass on the hours of the night. During thelast three years of my residence at Lausanne, I may assume the merit ofserious and solid application; but I am tempted to distinguish the lasteight months of the year 1755, as the period of the most extraordinarydiligence and rapid progress. In my French and Latin translationsI adopted an excellent method, which, from my own success, I wouldrecommend to the imitation of students. I chose some classic writer, such as Cicero and Vertot, the most approved for purity and elegance ofstyle. I translated, for instance, an epistle of Cicero into French;and after throwing it aside, till the words and phrases were obliteratedfrom my memory, I re-translated my French into such Latin as I couldfind; and then compared each sentence of my imperfect version, with theease, the grace, the propriety of the Roman orator. A similar experimentwas made on several pages of the Revolutions of Vertot; I turned theminto Latin, returned them after a sufficient interval into my ownFrench, and again scrutinized the resemblance or dissimilitude of thecopy and the original. By degrees I was less ashamed, by degrees I wasmore satisfied with myself; and I persevered in the practice of thesedouble translations, which filled several books, till I had acquired theknowledge or both idioms, and the command at least of a correct style. This useful exercise of writing was accompanied and succeeded by themore pleasing occupation of reading the best authors. The perusal ofthe Roman classics was at once my exercise and reward. Dr. Middleton'sHistory, which I then appreciated above its true value, naturallydirected the to the writings of Cicero. The most perfect editions, thatof Olivet, which may adorn the shelves of the rich, that of Ernesti, which should lie on the table of the learned, were not in my power. Forthe familiar epistles I used the text and English commentary of BishopRoss: but my general edition was that of Verburgius, published atAmsterdam in two large volumes in folio, with an indifferent choice ofvarious notes. I read, with application and pleasure, all the epistles, all the orations, and the most important treatises of rhetoric andphilosophy; and as I read, I applauded the observation of Quintilian, that every student may judge of his own proficiency, by the satisfactionwhich he receives from the Roman orator. I tasted the beauties oflanguage, I breathed the spirit of freedom, and I imbibed from hisprecepts and examples the public and private sense of a man. Cicero inLatin, and Xenophon in Greek, are indeed the two ancients whom I wouldfirst propose to a liberal scholar; not only for the merit of theirstyle and sentiments, but for the admirable lessons, which may beapplied almost to every situation of public and private life. Cicero's Epistles may in particular afford the models of every formof correspondence, from the careless effusions of tenderness andfriendship, to the well guarded declaration of discreet and dignifiedresentment. After finishing this great author, a library of eloquenceand reason, I formed a more extensive plan of reviewing the Latinclassics, under the four divisions of, 1. Historians, 2. Poets, 3. Orators, and 4. Philosophers, in a chronological series, from the daysof Plautus and Sallust, to the decline of the language and empire ofRome: and this plan, in the last twenty-seven months of my residence atLausanne (Jan. 1756--April 1758), I nearly accomplished. Nor was thisreview, however rapid, either hasty or superficial. I indulged myself ina second and even a third perusal of Terence, Virgil, Horace, Tacitus, &c. ; and studied to imbibe the sense and spirit most congenial to myown. I never suffered a difficult or corrupt passage to escape, till Ihad viewed it in every light of which it was susceptible: thoughoften disappointed, I always consulted the most learned or ingeniouscommentators, Torrentius and Dacier on Horace, Catrou and Servius onVirgil, Lipsius on Tacitus, Meziriac on Ovid, &c. ; and in the ardourof my inquiries, I embraced a large circle of historical and criticalerudition. My abstracts of each book were made in the French language:my observations often branched into particular essays; and I can stillread, without contempt, a dissertation of eight folio pages on eightlines (287-294) of the fourth Georgic of Virgil. Mr. Deyverdun, myfriend, whose name will be frequently repeated, had joined with equalzeal, though not with equal perseverance, in the same undertaking. Tohim every thought, every composition, was instantly communicated; withhim I enjoyed the benefits of a free conversation on the topics of ourcommon studies. 

But it is scarcely possible for a mind endowed with any active curiosityto be long conversant with the Latin classics, without aspiring to knowthe Greek originals, whom they celebrate as their masters, and of whomthey so warmly recommend the study and imitation;

 --Vos exemplaria Graeca Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna. 

It was now that I regretted the early years which had been wastedin sickness or idleness, or mere idle reading; that I condemned theperverse method of our schoolmasters, who, by first teaching themother-language, might descend with so much ease and perspicuity to theorigin and etymology of a derivative idiom. In the nineteenth year ofmy age I determined to supply this defect; and the lessons of Pavilliardagain contributed to smooth the entrance of the way, the Greek alphabet, the grammar, and the pronunciation according to the French accent. At myearnest request we presumed to open the Iliad; and I had the pleasure ofbeholding, though darkly and through a glass, the true image of Homer, whom I had long since admired in an English dress. After my tutor hadleft me to myself, I worked my way through about half the Iliad, andafterwards interpreted alone a large portion of Xenophon and Herodotus. But my ardour, destitute of aid and emulation, was gradually cooled, and, from the barren task of searching words in a lexicon, I withdrewto the free and familiar conversation of Virgil and Tacitus. Yet in myresidence at Lausanne I had laid a solid foundation, which enabledme, in a more propitious season, to prosecute the study of Grecianliterature. 

From a blind idea of the usefulness of such abstract science, my fatherhad been desirous, and even pressing, that I should devote some time tothe mathematics; nor could I refuse to comply with so reasonable awish. During two winters I attended the private lectures of Monsieur deTraytorrens, who explained the elements of algebra and geometry, asfar as the conic sections of the Marquis de l'Hopital, and appearedsatisfied with my diligence and improvement. But as my childishpropensity for numbers and calculations was totally extinct, I wascontent to receive the passive impression of my Professor's lectures, without any active exercise of my own powers. As soon as I understoodthe principles, I relinquished for ever the pursuit of the mathematics;nor can I lament that I desisted, before my mind was hardened by thehabit of rigid demonstration, so destructive of the finer feelings ofmoral evidence, which must, however, determine the actions and opinionsof our lives. I listened with more pleasure to the proposal of studyingthe law of nature and nations, which was taught in the academy ofLausanne by Mr. Vicat, a professor of some learning and reputation. Butinstead of attending his public or private course, I preferred in mycloset the lessons of his masters, and my own reason. Without beingdisgusted by Grotius or Puffendorf, I studied in their writings theduties of a man, the rights of a citizen, the theory of justice (itis, alas! a theory), and the laws of peace and war, which have had someinfluence on the practice of modern Europe. My fatigues were alleviatedby the good sense of their commentator Barbeyrac. Locke's Treatise ofGovernment instructed me in the knowledge of Whig principles, whichare rather founded in reason than experience; but my delight was in thefrequent perusal of Montesquieu, whose energy of style, and boldness ofhypothesis, were powerful to awaken and stimulate the genius of the age. The logic of De Crousaz had prepared me to engage with his master Lockeand his antagonist Bayle; of whom the former may be used as abridle, and the latter applied as a spur, to the curiosity of a youngphilosopher. According to the nature of their respective works, theschools of argument and objection, I carefully went through the Essayon Human Understanding, and occasionally consulted the most interestingarticles of the Philosophic Dictionary. In the infancy of my reasonI turned over, as an idle amusement, the most serious and importanttreatise: in its maturity, the most trifling performance could exercisemy taste or judgment, and more than once I have been led by a novelinto a deep and instructive train of thinking. But I cannot forbear tomention three particular books, since they may have remotely contributedto form the historian of the Roman empire. 1. From the ProvincialLetters of Pascal, which almost every year I have perused with newpleasure, I learned to manage the weapon of grave and temperate irony, even on subjects of ecclesiastical solemnity. 2. The Life of Julian, bythe Abbe de la Bleterie, first introduced me to the man and the times;and I should be glad to recover my first essay on the truth of themiracle which stopped the rebuilding of the Temple of Jerusalem. 3. InGiannone's Civil History of Naples I observed with a critical eye theprogress and abuse of sacerdotal power, and the revolutions of Italyin the darker ages. This various reading, which I now conducted withdiscretion, was digested, according to the precept and model of Mr. Locke, into a large common-place book; a practice, however, which I donot strenuously recommend. The action of the pen will doubtless imprintan idea on the mind as well as on the paper: but I much question whetherthe benefits of this laborious method are adequate to the waste of time;and I must agree with Dr. Johnson, (Idler, No. 74. ) "that what is twiceread, is commonly better remembered, than what is transcribed. "

During two years, if I forget some boyish excursions of a day or a week, I was fixed at Lausanne; but at the end of the third summer, my fatherconsented that I should make the tour of Switzerland with Pavilliard:and our short absence of one month (Sept. 21st--Oct. 20th, 1755) was areward and relaxation of my assiduous studies. The fashion of climbingthe mountains and reviewing the Glaciers, had not yet been introducedby foreign travellers, who seek the sublime beauties of nature. But thepolitical face of the country is not less diversified by the forms andspirit of so many various republics, from the jealous government of thefew to the licentious freedom of the many. I contemplated with pleasurethe new prospects of men and manners; though my conversation with thenatives would have been more free and instructive, had I possessed theGerman, as well as the French language. We passed through most of theprincipal towns of Switzerland; Neufchatel, Bienne, Soleurre, Arau, Baden, Zurich, Basil, and Berne. In every place we visited the churches, arsenals, libraries, and all the most eminent persons; and after myreturn, I digested my notes in fourteen or fifteen sheets of a Frenchjournal, which I dispatched to my father, as a proof that my time andhis money had not been mis-spent. Had I found this journal among hispapers, I might be tempted to select some passages; but I will nottranscribe the printed accounts, and it may be sufficient to notice aremarkable spot, which left a deep and lasting impression on my memory. From Zurich we proceeded to the Benedictine Abbey of Einfidlen, snorecommonly styled Our Lady of the Hermits. I was astonished by the profuseostentation of riches in the poorest corner of Europe; amidst a savagescene of woods and mountains, a palace appears to have been erected bymagic; and it was erected by the potent magic of religion. A crowdof palmers and votaries was prostrate before the altar. The title andworship of the Mother of God provoked my indignation; and the livelynaked image of superstition suggested to me, as in the same place it haddone to Zuinglius, the most pressing argument for the reformation of thechurch. About two years after this tour, I passed at Geneva a usefuland agreeable month; but this excursion, and short visits in the Paysde Vaud, did not materially interrupt my studious and sedentary life atLausanne. 

My thirst of improvement, and the languid state of science at Lausanne, soon prompted me to solicit a literary correspondence with several menof learning, whom I had not an opportunity of personally consulting. 1. In the perusal of Livy, (xxx. 44, ) I had been stopped by a sentence ina speech of Hannibal, which cannot be reconciled by any torture withhis character or argument. The commentators dissemble, or confess theirperplexity. It occurred to me, that the change of a single letter, bysubstituting otio instead of odio, might restore a clear and consistentsense; but I wished to weigh my emendation in scales less partial thanmy own. I addressed myself to M. Crevier, the successor of Rollin, anda professor in the university of Paris, who had published a large andvaluable edition of Livy. His answer was speedy and polite; he praisedmy ingenuity, and adopted my conjecture. 2. I maintained a Latincorrespondence, at first anonymous, and afterwards in my own name, with Professor Breitinger of Zurich, the learned editor of a SeptuagintBible. In our frequent letters we discussed many questions of antiquity, many passages of the Latin classics. I proposed my interpretationsand amendments. His censures, for he did not spare my boldnessof conjecture, were sharp and strong; and I was encouraged by theconsciousness of my strength, when I could stand in free debate againsta critic of such eminence and erudition. 3. I corresponded on similartopics with the celebrated Professor Matthew Gesner, of the universityof Gottingen; and he accepted, as courteously as the two former, theinvitation of an unknown youth. But his abilities might possibly bedecayed; his elaborate letters were feeble and prolix; and when I askedhis proper direction, the vain old man covered half a sheet of paperwith the foolish enumeration of his titles and offices. 4. TheseProfessors of Paris, Zurich, and Gottingen, were strangers, whom Ipresumed to address on the credit of their name; but Mr. Allamand, Minister at Bex, was my personal friend, with whom I maintained a morefree and interesting correspondence. He was a master of language, ofscience, and, above all, of dispute; and his acute and flexible logiccould support, with equal address, and perhaps with equal indifference, the adverse sides of every possible question. His spirit was active, but his pen had been indolent. Mr. Allamand had exposed himself to muchscandal and reproach, by an anonymous letter (1745) to the Protestantsof France; in which he labours to persuade them that public worshipis the exclusive right and duty of the state, and that their numerousassemblies of dissenters and rebels were not authorized by the law orthe gospel. His style is animated, his arguments specious; and if thepapist may seem to lurk under the mask of a protestant, the philosopheris concealed under the disguise of a papist. After some trials in Franceand Holland, which were defeated by his fortune or his character, agenius that might have enlightened or deluded the world, was buried ina country living, unknown to fame, and discontented with mankind. Est sacrificulus in pago, et rusticos decipit. As often as private orecclesiastical business called him to Lausanne, I enjoyed the pleasureand benefit of his conversation, and we were mutually flattered by ourattention to each other. Our correspondence, in his absence, chieflyturned on Locke's metaphysics, which he attacked, and I defended;the origin of ideas, the principles of evidence, and the doctrine ofliberty;

 And found no end, in wandering mazes lost. 

By fencing with so skilful a master, I acquired some dexterity in theuse of my philosophic weapons; but I was still the slave of educationand prejudice. He had some measures to keep; and I much suspect that henever showed me the true colours of his secret scepticism. 

Before I was recalled from Switzerland, I had the satisfaction ofseeing the most extraordinary man of the age; a poet, an historian, aphilosopher, who has filled thirty quartos, of prose and verse, with hisvarious productions, often excellent, and always entertaining. Need Iadd the name of Voltaire? After forfeiting, by his own misconduct, thefriendship of the first of kings, he retired, at the age of sixty, witha plentiful fortune, to a free and beautiful country, and resided twowinters (1757 and 1758) in the town or neighbourhood of Lausanne. My desire of beholding Voltaire, whom I then rated above his realmagnitude, was easily gratified. He received me with civility as anEnglish youth; but I cannot boast of any peculiar notice or distinction, Virgilium vidi tantum. 

The ode which he composed on his first arrival on the banks of the LemanLake, O Maison d'Aristippe! O Jardin d'Epicure, &c. Had been impartedas a secret to the gentleman by whom I was introduced. He allowed me toread it twice; I knew it by heart; and as my discretion was not equal tomy memory, the author was soon displeased by the circulation of a copy. In writing this trivial anecdote, I wished to observe whether my memorywas impaired, and I have the comfort of finding that every line of thepoem is still engraved in fresh and indelible characters. The highestgratification which I derived from Voltaire's residence at Lausanne, was the uncommon circumstance of hearing a great poet declaim his ownproductions on the stage. He had formed a company of gentlemen andladies, some of whom were not destitute of talents. A decent theatre wasframed at Monrepos, a country-house at the end of a suburb; dressesand scenes were provided at the expense of the actors; and the authordirected the rehearsals with the zeal and attention of paternal love. Intwo successive winters his tragedies of Zayre, Alzire, Zulime, and hissentimental comedy of the Enfant Prodigue, were played at the theatre ofMonrepos. Voltaire represented the characters best adapted to his years, Lusignan, Alvarez, Benassar, Euphemon. His declamation was fashioned tothe pomp and cadence of the old stage; and he expressed the enthusiasmof poetry, rather than the feelings of nature. My ardour, which soonbecame conspicuous, seldom failed of procuring me a ticket. The habitsof pleasure fortified my taste for the French theatre, and that tastehas perhaps abated my idolatry for the gigantic genius of Shakespeare, which is inculcated from our infancy as the first duty of an Englishman. The wit and philosophy of Voltaire, his table and theatre, refined, in avisible degree, the manners of Lausanne; and, however addicted tostudy, I enjoyed my share of the amusements of society. After therepresentation of Monrepos I sometimes supped with the actors. I was nowfamiliar in some, and acquainted in many houses; and my evenings weregenerally devoted to cards and conversation, either in private partiesor numerous assemblies. 

I hesitate, from the apprehension of ridicule, when I approach thedelicate subject of my early love. By this word I do not mean the politeattention, the gallantry, without hope or design, which has originatedin the spirit of chivalry, and is interwoven with the texture of Frenchmanners. I understand by this passion the union of desire, friendship, and tenderness, which is inflamed by a single female, which prefers herto the rest of her sex, and which seeks her possession as the supremeor the sole happiness of our being. I need not blush at recollecting theobject of my choice; and though my love was disappointed of success, I am rather proud that I was once capable of feeling such a pure andexalted sentiment. The personal attractions of Mademoiselle SusanCurchod were embellished by the virtues and talents of the mind. Herfortune was humble, but her family was respectable. Her mother, a nativeof France, had preferred her religion to her country. The professionof her father did not extinguish the moderation and philosophy of histemper, and he lived content with a small salary and laborious duty, inthe obscure lot of minister of Crassy, in the mountains that separatethe Pays de Vaud from the county of Burgundy. In the solitude of asequestered village he bestowed a liberal, and even learned, educationon his only daughter. She surpassed his hopes by her proficiency in thesciences and languages; and in her short visits to some relations atLausanne, the wit, the beauty, and erudition of Mademoiselle Curchodwere the theme of universal applause. The report of such a prodigyawakened my curiosity; I saw and loved. I found her learned withoutpedantry, lively in conversation, pure in sentiment, and elegant inmanners; and the first sudden emotion was fortified by the habits andknowledge of a more familiar acquaintance. She permitted me to makeher two or three visits at her father's house. I passed some happydays there, in the mountains of Burgundy, and her parents honourablyencouraged the connection. In a calm retirement the gay vanity of youthno longer fluttered in her bosom; she listened to the voice of truth andpassion, and I might presume to hope that I had made some impressionon a virtuous heart. At Crassy and Lausanne I indulged my dream offelicity: but on my return to England, I soon discovered that my fatherwould not hear of this strange alliance, and that without his consent Iwas myself destitute and helpless. After a painful struggle I yielded tomy fate: I sighed as a lover, I obeyed as a son; my wound was insensiblyhealed by time, absence, and the habits of a new life. My cure wasaccelerated by a faithful report of the tranquillity and cheerfulnessof the lady herself, and my love subsided in friendship and esteem. Theminister of Crassy soon afterwards died; his stipend died with him: hisdaughter retired to Geneva, where, by teaching young ladies, sheearned a hard subsistence for herself and her mother; but in herlowest distress she maintained a spotless reputation, and a dignifiedbehaviour. A rich banker of Paris, a citizen of Geneva, had thegood fortune and good sense to discover and possess this inestimabletreasure; and in the capital of taste and luxury she resisted thetemptations of wealth, as she had sustained the hardships of indigence. The genius of her husband has exalted him to the most conspicuousstation in Europe. In every change of prosperity and disgrace he hasreclined on the bosom of a faithful friend; and Mademoiselle Curchod isnow the wife of M. Necker, the minister, and perhaps the legislator, ofthe French monarchy. 

Whatsoever have been the fruits of my education, they must be ascribedto the fortunate banishment which placed me at Lausanne. I havesometimes applied to my own fate the verses of Pindar, which remind anOlympic champion that his victory was the consequence of his exile;and that at home, like a domestic fowl, his days might have rolled awayinactive or inglorious. [Greek omitted]

 Thus, like the crested bird of Mars, at home Engag'd in foul domestic jars, And wasted with intestine wars, Inglorious hadst thou spent thy vig'rous bloom; Had not sedition's civil broils Expell'd thee from thy native Crete, And driv'n thee with more glorious toils Th' Olympic crown in Pisa's plain to meet. West's Pindar. 

If my childish revolt against the religion of my country had notstripped me in time of my academic gown, the five important years, soliberally improved in the studies and conversation of Lausanne, wouldhave been steeped in port and prejudice among the monks of Oxford. Hadthe fatigue of idleness compelled me to read, the path of learning wouldnot have been enlightened by a ray of philosophic freedom. I should havegrown to manhood ignorant of the life and language of Europe, and myknowledge of the world would have been confined to an English cloister. But my religious error fixed me at Lausanne, in a state of banishmentand disgrace. The rigid course of discipline and abstinence, to which Iwas condemned, invigorated the constitution of my mind and body; povertyand pride estranged me from my countrymen. One mischief, however, andin their eyes a serious and irreparable mischief, was derived from thesuccess of my Swiss education; I had ceased to be an Englishman. Atthe flexible period of youth, from the age of sixteen to twenty-one, myopinions, habits, and sentiments were cast in a foreign mould; the faintand distant remembrance of England was almost obliterated; my nativelanguage was grown less familiar; and I should have cheerfully acceptedthe offer of a moderate independence on the terms of perpetual exile. By the good sense and temper of Pavilliard my yoke was insensiblylightened: he left me master of my time and actions; but he couldneither change my situation, nor increase my allowance, and with theprogress of my years and reason I impatiently sighed for the moment ofmy deliverance. At length, in the spring of the year 1758, my fathersignified his permission and his pleasure that I should immediatelyreturn home. We were then in the midst of a war: the resentment of theFrench at our taking their ships without a declaration, had renderedthat polite nation somewhat peevish and difficult. They denied a passageto English travellers, and the road through Germany was circuitous, toilsome, and perhaps in the neighbourhood of the armies, exposed tosome danger. In this perplexity, two Swiss officers of my acquaintancein the Dutch service, who were returning to their garrisons, offeredto conduct me through France as one of their companions; nor did wesufficiently reflect that my borrowed name and regimentals might havebeen considered, in case of a discovery, in a very serious light. I tookmy leave of Lausanne on April 11 1758, with a mixture of joy and regret, in the firm resolution revisiting, as a man, the persons and placeswhich had been so dear to my youth. We travelled slowly, but pleasantly, in a hired coach, over the hills of Franche-compte and the fertileprovince of Lorraine, and passed, without accident or inquiry, throughseveral fortified towns of the French frontier: from thence we enteredthe wild Ardennes of the Austrian dutchy of Luxemburg; and aftercrossing the Meuse at Liege, we traversed the heaths of Brabant, andreached, on April 26, our Dutch garrison of Bois le Duc. In our passagethrough Nancy, my eye was gratified by the aspect of a regular andbeautiful city, the work of Stanislaus, who, after the storms of Polishroyalty, reposed in the love and gratitude of his new subjects ofLorraine. In our halt at Maestricht I visited Mr. De Beaufort, a learnedcritic, who was known to me by his specious arguments against the fivefirst centuries of the Roman History. After dropping my regimentalcompanions, I stepped aside to visit Rotterdam and the Hague. I wishedto have observed a country, the monument of freedom and industry; butmy days were numbered, and a longer delay would have been ungraceful. I hastened to embark at the Brill, landed the next day at Harwich, andproceeded to London, where my father awaited my arrival. The whole termof my first absence from England was four years ten months and fifteendays. 

In the prayers of the church our personal concerns are judiciouslyreduced to the threefold distinction of mind, body, and estate. Thesentiments of the mind excite and exercise our social sympathy. Thereview of my moral and literary character is the most interesting tomyself and to the public; and I may expatiate, without reproach, on myprivate studies; since they have produced the public writings, whichcan alone entitle me to the esteem and friendship of my readers. Theexperience of the world inculcates a discreet reserve on the subject ofour person and estate, and we soon learn that a free disclosure of ourriches or poverty would provoke the malice of envy, or encourage theinsolence of contempt. 

The only person in England whom I was impatient to see was my auntPorten, the affectionate guardian of my tender years. I hastened to herhouse in College-street, Westminster; and the evening was spent inthe effusions of joy and confidence. It was not without some awe andapprehension that I approached the presence of my father. My infancy, to speak the truth, had been neglected at home; the severity of his lookand language at our last parting still dwelt on my memory; nor could Iform any notion of his character, or my probable reception. They wereboth more agreeable than I could expect. The domestic discipline of ourancestors has been relaxed by the philosophy and softness of the age;and if my father remembered that he had trembled before a stern parent, it was only to adopt with his own son an opposite mode of behaviour. Hereceived me as a man and a friend; all constraint was banished at ourfirst interview, and we ever afterwards continued on the same terms ofeasy and equal politeness. He applauded the success of my education;every word and action was expressive of the most cordial affection; andour lives would have passed without a cloud, if his oeconomy had beenequal to his fortune, or if his fortune had been equal to his desires. During my absence he had married his second wife, Miss Dorothea Patton, who was introduced to me with the most unfavourable prejudice. Iconsidered his second marriage as an act of displeasure, and I wasdisposed to hate the rival of my mother. But the injustice was in my ownfancy, and the imaginary monster was an amiable and deserving woman. I could not be mistaken in the first view of her understanding, herknowledge, and the elegant spirit of her conversation: her politewelcome, and her assiduous care to study and gratify my wishes, announced at least that the surface would be smooth; and my suspicionsof art and falsehood were gradually dispelled by the full discovery ofher warm and exquisite sensibility. After some reserve on my side, ourminds associated in confidence and friendship; and as Mrs. Gibbon hadneither children nor the hopes of children, we more easily adoptedthe tender names and genuine characters of mother and of son. By theindulgence of these parents, I was left at liberty to consult my tasteor reason in the choice of place, of company, and of amusements; andmy excursions were bounded only by the limits of the island, and themeasure of my income. Some faint efforts were made to procure me theemployment of secretary to a foreign embassy; and I listened to a schemewhich would again have transported me to the continent. Mrs. Gibbon, with seeming wisdom, exhorted me to take chambers in the Temple, anddevote my leisure to the study of the law. I cannot repent of havingneglected her advice. Few men, without the spur of necessity, haveresolution to force their way, through the thorns and thickets of thatgloomy labyrinth. Nature had not endowed me with the bold and readyeloquence which makes itself heard amidst the tumult of the bar; andI should probably have been diverted from the labours of literature, without acquiring the fame or fortune of a successful pleader. I had noneed to call to my aid the regular duties of a profession; every day, every hour, was agreeably filled; nor have I known, like so many of mycountrymen, the tediousness of an idle life. 

Of the two years (May 1758-May 1760, ) between my return to England andthe embodying of the Hampshire militia, I passed about nine months inLondon, and the remainder in the country. The metropolis affords manyamusements, which are open to all. It is itself an astonishing andperpetual spectacle to the curious eye; and each taste, each sense maybe gratified by the variety of objects which will occur in the longcircuit of a morning walk. I assiduously frequented the theatres at avery propitious aera of the stage, when a constellation of excellentactors, both in tragedy and comedy, was eclipsed by the meridianbrightness of Garrick in the maturity of his judgment, and vigour of hisperformance. The pleasures of a town-life are within the reach of everyman who is regardless of his health, his money, and his company. By thecontagion of example I was sometimes seduced; but the better habits, which I had formed at Lausanne, induced me to seek a more elegant andrational society; and if my search was less easy and successful thanI might have hoped, I shall at present impute the failure to thedisadvantages of my situation and character. Had the rank and fortune ofmy parents given them an annual establishment in London, their ownhouse would have introduced me to a numerous and polite circle ofacquaintance. But my father's taste had always preferred the highestand the lowest company, for which he was equally qualified; and aftera twelve years' retirement, he was no longer in the memory of the greatwith whom he had associated. I found myself a stranger in the midst ofa vast and unknown city; and at my entrance into life I was reduced tosome dull family parties, and some scattered connections, which were notsuch as I should have chosen for myself. The most useful friends of myfather were the Mallets: they received me with civility and kindness atfirst on his account, and afterwards on my own; and (if I may useLord Chesterfield's words) I was soon domesticated in their house. Mr. Mallet, a name among the English poets, is praised by an unforgivingenemy, for the ease and elegance of his conversation, and his wife wasnot destitute of wit or learning. By his assistance I was introducedto Lady Hervey, the mother of the present earl of Bristol. Her ageand infirmities confined her at home; her dinners were select; in theevening her house was open to the best company of both sexes and allnations; nor was I displeased at her preference and affectation of themanners, the language, and the literature of France. But my progressin the English world was in general left to my own efforts, and thoseefforts were languid and slow. I had not been endowed by art or naturewith those happy gifts of confidence and address, which unlock everydoor and every bosom; nor would it be reasonable to complain of the justconsequences of my sickly childhood, foreign education, and reservedtemper. While coaches were rattling through Bond-street, I have passedmany a solitary evening in my lodging with my books. My studies weresometimes interrupted by a sigh, which I breathed towards Lausanne; andon the approach of Spring, I withdrew without reluctance from the noisyand extensive scene of crowds without company, and dissipation withoutpleasure. In each of the twenty-five years of my acquaintance withLondon (1758-1783) the prospect gradually brightened; and thisunfavourable picture most properly belongs to the first period after myreturn from Switzerland. 

My father's residence in Hampshire, where I have passed many light, andsome heavy hours, was at Beriton, near Petersfield, one mile from thePortsmouth road, and at the easy distance of fifty-eight miles fromLondon. An old mansion, in a state of decay, had been converted into thefashion and convenience of a modern house: and if strangers had nothingto see, the inhabitants had little to desire. The spot was not happilychosen, at the end of the village and the bottom of the hill: but theaspect of the adjacent grounds was various and cheerful; the downscommanded a noble prospect, and the long hanging woods in sight of thehouse could not perhaps have been improved by art or expence. My fatherkept in his own hands the whole of the estate, and even rented someadditional land; and whatsoever might be the balance of profit and loss, the farm supplied him with amusement and plenty. The produce maintaineda number of men and horses, which were multiplied by the intermixtureof domestic and rural servants; and in the intervals of labour thefavourite team, a handsome set of bays or greys, was harnessed to thecoach. The oeconomy of the house was regulated by the taste and prudenceof Mrs. Gibbon. She prided herself in the elegance of her occasionaldinners; and from the uncleanly avarice of Madame Pavilliard, I wassuddenly transported to the daily neatness and luxury of an Englishtable. Our immediate neighbourhood was rare and rustic; but from theverge of our hills, as far as Chichester and Goodwood, the westerndistrict of Sussex was interspersed with noble seats and hospitablefamilies, with whom we cultivated a friendly, and might have enjoyed avery frequent, intercourse. As my stay at Buriton was always voluntary, I was received and dismissed with smiles; but the comforts of myretirement did not depend on the ordinary pleasures of the country. Myfather could never inspire me with his love and knowledge of farming. Inever handled a gun, I seldom mounted an horse; and my philosophic walkswere soon terminated by a shady bench, where I was long detained bythe sedentary amusement of reading or meditation. At home I occupied apleasant and spacious apartment; the library on the same floor was soonconsidered as my peculiar domain; and I might say with truth, that I wasnever less alone than when by myself. My sole complaint, which I piouslysuppressed, arose from the kind restraint imposed on the freedom of mytime. By the habit of early rising I always secured a sacred portionof the day, and many scattered moments were stolen and employed by mystudious industry. But the family hours of breakfast, of dinner, oftea, and of supper, were regular and long: after breakfast Mrs. Gibbonexpected my company in her dressing-room; after tea my father claimed myconversation and the perusal of the newspapers; and in the midst of aninteresting work I was often called down to receive the visit of someidle neighbours. Their dinners and visits required, in due season, asimilar return; and I dreaded the period of the full moon, which wasusually reserved for our more distant excursions. I could not refuseattending my father, in the summer of 1759, to the races at Stockbridge, Reading, and Odiam, where he had entered a horse for the hunter's plate;and I was not displeased with the sight of our Olympic games, the beautyof the spot, the fleetness of the horses, and the gay tumult of thenumerous spectators. As soon as the militia business was agitated, many days were tediously consumed in meetings of deputy-lieutenants atPetersfield, Alton, and Winchester. In the close of the same year, 1759, Sir Simeon (then Mr. ) Stewart attempted an unsuccessful contest for thecounty of Southampton, against Mr. Legge, Chancellor of the Exchequer: awell-known contest, in which Lord Bute's influence was first exerted andcensured. Our canvas at Portsmouth and Gosport lasted several days; butthe interruption of my studies was compensated in some degree by thespectacle of English manners, and the acquisition of some practicalknowledge. 

If in a more domestic or more dissipated scene my application wassomewhat relaxed, the love of knowledge was inflamed and gratified bythe command of books; and I compared the poverty of Lausanne with theplenty of London. My father's study at Buriton was stuffed with muchtrash of the last age, with much high church divinity and politics, which have long since gone to their proper place: yet it contained somevaluable editions of the classics and the fathers, the choice, as itshould seem, of Mr. Law; and many English publications of the times hadbeen occasionally added. From this slender beginning I have graduallyformed a numerous and select library, the foundation of my works, andthe best comfort of my life, both at home and abroad. On the receipt ofthe first quarter, a large share of my allowance was appropriated tomy literary wants. I cannot forget the joy with which I exchanged abank-note of twenty pounds for the twenty volumes of the Memoirs ofthe Academy of Inscriptions; nor would it have been easy, by any otherexpenditure of the same sum, to have procured so large and lasting afund of rational amusement. At a time when I most assiduously frequentedthis school of ancient literature, I thus expressed my opinion of alearned and various collection, which since the year 1759 has beendoubled in magnitude, though not in merit--"Une de ces societes, quiont mieux immortalise Louis XIV. Qu un ambition souvent pernicieuse auxhommes, commengoit deja ces recherches qui reunissent la justesse del'esprit, l'amenete & l'eruditlon: ou l'on voit iant des decouvertes, et quelquefois, ce qui ne cede qu'a peine aux decouvertes, une ignorancemodeste et savante. " The review of my library must be reserved for theperiod of its maturity; but in this place I may allow myself to observe, that I am not conscious of having ever bought a book from a motive ofostentation, that every volume, before it was deposited on the shelf, was either read or sufficiently examined, and that I soon adopted thetolerating maxim of the elder Pliny, "nullum esse librum tam malum utnon ex aliqua parte prodesset. " I could not yet find leisure or courageto renew the pursuit of the Greek language, excepting by reading thelessons of the Old and New Testament every Sunday, when I attended thefamily to church. The series of my Latin authors was less strenuouslycompleted; but the acquisition, by inheritance or purchase, of the besteditions of Cicero, Quintilian, Livy, Tacitus, Ovid, &c. Afforded a fairprospect, which I seldom neglected. I persevered in the useful method ofabstracts and observations; and a single example may suffice, of a notewhich had almost swelled into a work. The solution of a passage of Livy(xxxviii. 38, ) involved me in the dry and dark treatises of Greaves, Arbuthnot, Hooper, Bernard, Eisenschmidt, Gronovius, La Barre, Freret, &c. ; and in my French essay (chap. 20, ) I ridiculously send the readerto my own manuscript remarks on the weights, coins, and measures of theancients, which were abruptly terminated by the militia drum. 

As I am now entering on a more ample field of society and study, Ican only hope to avoid a vain and prolix garrulity, by overlooking thevulgar crowd of my acquaintance, and confining myself to such intimatefriends among books and men, as are best entitled to my notice by theirown merit and reputation, or by the deep impression which they haveleft on my mind. Yet I will embrace this occasion of recommending to theyoung student a practice, which about this time I myself adopted. Afterglancing my eye over the design and order of a new book, I suspendedthe perusal till I had finished the task of self examination, till Ihad revolved, in a solitary walk, all that I knew or believed, or hadthought on the subject of the whole work, or of some particular chapter:I was then qualified to discern how much the author added to my originalstock; and I was sometimes satisfied by the agreement, I was sometimesarmed by the opposition of our ideas. The favourite companions of myleisure were our English writers since the Revolution: they breathe thespirit of reason and liberty; and they most seasonably contributed torestore the purity of my own language, which had been corrupted by thelong use of a foreign idiom. By the judicious advice of Mr. Mallet, Iwas directed to the writings of Swift and Addison; wit and simplicityare their common attributes: but the style of Swift is supported bymanly original vigour; that of Addison is adorned by the female gracesof elegance and mildness. The old reproach, that no British altars hadbeen raised to the muse of history, was recently disproved by the firstperformances of Robertson and Hume, the histories of Scotland and ofthe Stuarts. I will assume the presumption of saying, that I was notunworthy to read them: nor will I disguise my different feelings in therepeated perusals. The perfect composition, the nervous language, thewell-turned periods of Dr. Robertson, inflamed me to the ambitious hopethat I might one day tread in his footsteps: the calm philosophy, thecareless, inimitable beauties of his friend and rival, often forced meto close the volume with a mixed sensation of delight and despair. 

The design of my first work, the Essay on the Study of Literature, was suggested by a refinement of vanity, the desire of justifying andpraising the object of a favourite pursuit. In France, to which myideas were confined, the learning and language of Greece and Rome wereneglected by a philosophic age. The guardian of those studies, theAcademy of Inscriptions, was degraded to the lowest rank among thethree royal societies of Paris: the new appellation of Erudits wascontemptuously applied to the successors of Lipsius and Casaubon; andI was provoked to hear (see M. D'Alembert Discours preliminaire al'Encyclopedie) that the exercise of the memory, their sole merit, had been superseded by the nobler faculties of the imagination and thejudgment. I was ambitious of proving by my own example, as well as bymy precepts, that all the faculties of the mind may be exercised anddisplayed by the study of ancient literature: I began to select andadorn the various proofs and illustrations which had offered themselvesin reading the classics; and the first pages or chapters of my essaywere composed before my departure from Lausanne. The hurry of thejourney, and of the first weeks of my English life, suspended allthoughts of serious application: but my object was ever before my eyes;and no more than ten days, from the first to the eleventh of July, weresuffered to elapse after my summer establishment at Buriton. My essaywas finished in about six weeks; and as soon as a fair copy had beentranscribed by one of the French prisoners at Petersfield, I lookedround for a critic and judge of my first performance. A writer canseldom be content with the doubtful recompense of solitary approbation;but a youth ignorant of the world, and of himself, must desire to weighhis talents in some scales less partial than his own: my conductwas natural, my motive laudable, my choice of Dr. Maty judicious andfortunate. By descent and education Dr. Maty, though born in Holland, might be considered as a Frenchman; but he was fixed in London by thepractice of physic, and an office in the British Museum. His reputationwas justly founded on the eighteen volumes of the Journal Britannique, which he had supported, almost alone, with perseverance and success. This humble though useful labour, which had once been dignified by thegenius of Bayle and the learning of Le Clerc, was not disgraced by thetaste, the knowledge, and the judgment of Maty: he exhibits a candid andpleasing view of the state of literature in England during a period ofsix years (January 1750--December 1755); and, far different from hisangry son, he handles the rod of criticism with the tenderness andreluctance of a parent. The author of the Journal Britannique sometimesaspires to the character of a poet and philosopher: his style is pureand elegant; and in his virtues, or even in his defects, he may beranked as one of the last disciples of the school of Fontenelle. His answer to my first letter was prompt and polite: after a carefulexamination he returned my manuscript, with some animadversion and muchapplause; and when I visited London in the ensuing winter, we discussedthe design and execution in several free and familiar conversations. In a short excursion to Buriton I reviewed my essay, according to hisfriendly advice; and after suppressing a third, adding a third, andaltering a third, I consummated my first labour by a short preface, which is dated Feb. 3, 1759. Yet I still shrunk from the press with theterrors of virgin modesty: the manuscript was safely deposited in mydesk; and as my attention was engaged by new objects, the delaymight have been prolonged till I had fulfilled the precept of Horace, "nonumque prematur in annum. " Father Sirmond, a learned jesuit, wasstill more rigid, since he advised a young friend to expect the matureage of fifty, before he gave himself or his writings to the public(Olivet Hist. De l'Acad. Francoise, tom. Ii. P. 143). The counselwas singular; but it is still more singular that it should have beenapproved by the example of the author. Sirmond was himself fifty-fiveyears of age when he published (in 1614) his first work, an edition ofSidonius Apollinaris, with many valuable annotations: (see his life, before the great edition of his works in five volumes folio, Paris, 1696, e Typographia Regia). 

Two years elapsed in silence: but in the spring of 1761 I yielded to theauthority of a parent, and complied, like a pious son, with the wishof my own heart. My private resolves were influenced by the state ofEurope. About this time the belligerent powers had made and acceptedovertures of peace; our English plenipotentiaries were named to assistat the Congress of Augsburg, which never met: I wished to attend them asa gentleman or a secretary; and my father fondly believed that the proofof some literary talents might introduce me to public notice, and secondthe recommendations of my friends. After a last revisal I consultedwith Mr. Mallet and Dr. Maty, who approved the design and promoted theexecution. Mr. Mallet, after hearing me read my manuscript, received itfrom my hands, and delivered it into those of Becket, with whom he madean agreement in my name; an easy agreement: I required only a certainnumber of copies; and, without transferring my property, I devolvedon the bookseller the charges and profits of the edition. Dr. Matyundertook, in my absence, to correct the sheets: he inserted, withoutmy knowledge, an elegant and flattering epistle to the author; whichis composed, however, with so much art, that, in case of a defeat, hisfavourable report might have been ascribed to the indulgence of a friendfor the rash attempt of a young English gentleman. The work was printedand published, under the title of Essai sur l'Etude de la Litterature, a Londres, chez T. Becket et P. A. De Hondt, 1761, in a small volume induodecimo: my dedication to my father, a proper and pious address, wascomposed the twenty-eighth of May: Dr. Maty's letter is dated June 16;and I received the first copy (June 23) at Alresford, two days before Imarched with the Hampshire militia. Some weeks afterwards, on the sameground, I presented my book to the late Duke of York, who breakfasted inColonel Pitt's tent. By my father's direction, and Mallet's advice, manyliterary gifts were distributed to several eminent characters in Englandand France; two books were sent to the Count de Caylus, and the Duchessed'Aiguillon, at Paris: I had reserved twenty copies for my friends atLausanne, as the first fruits of my education, and a grateful token ofmy remembrance: and on all these persons I levied an unavoidable tax ofcivility and compliment. It is not surprising that a work, of whichthe style and sentiments were so totally foreign, should have been moresuccessful abroad than at home. I was delighted by the copious extracts, the warm commendations, and the flattering predictions of the journalsof France and Holland: and the next year (1762) a new edition (I believeat Geneva) extended the fame, or at least the circulation, of the work. In England it was received with cold indifference, little read, andspeedily forgotten: a small impression was slowly dispersed; thebookseller murmured, and the author (had his feelings been moreexquisite) might have wept over the blunders and baldness of the Englishtranslation. The publication of my History fifteen years afterwardsrevived the memory of my first performance, and the Essay was eagerlysought in the shops. But I refused the permission which Becket solicitedof reprinting it: the public curiosity was imperfectly satisfied bya pirated copy of the booksellers of Dublin; and when a copy of theoriginal edition has been discovered in a sale, the primitive valueof half-a-crown has risen to the fanciful price of a guinea or thirtyshillings. 

I have expatiated on the petty circumstances and period of my firstpublication, a memorable aera in the life of a student, when he venturesto reveal the measure of his mind: his hopes and fears are multiplied bythe idea of self-importance, and he believes for a while that the eyesof mankind are fixed on his person and performance. Whatever may be mypresent reputation, it no longer rests on the merit of this first essay;and at the end of twenty-eight years I may appreciate my juvenile workwith the impartiality, and almost with the indifference, of a stranger. In his answer to Lady Hervey, the Count de Caylus admires, or affects toadmire, "les livres sans nombre que Mr. Gibbon a lus et tres bienlus. " But, alas! my stock of erudition at that time was scanty andsuperficial; and if I allow myself the liberty of naming the Greekmasters, my genuine and personal acquaintance was confined to the Latinclassics. The most serious defect of my Essay is a kind of obscurity andabruptness which always fatigues, and may often elude, the attentionof the reader. Instead of a precise and proper definition of the titleitself, the sense of the word Litterature is loosely and variouslyapplied: a number of remarks and examples, historical, critical, philosophical, are heaped on each other without method or connection;and if we except some introductory pages, all the remaining chaptersmight indifferently be reversed or transposed. The obscure passagesis often affected, brevis esse laboro, obscurus fio; the desire ofexpressing perhaps a common idea with sententious and oracular brevity:alas! how fatal has been the imitation of Montesquieu! But thisobscurity sometimes proceeds from a mixture of light and darkness in theauthor's mind; from a partial ray which strikes upon an angle, insteadof spreading itself over the surface of an object. After this fairconfession I shall presume to say, that the Essay does credit to a youngwriter of two and twenty years of age, who had read with taste, whothinks with freedom, and who writes in a foreign language with spiritand elegance. The defence of the early History of Rome and the newChronology of Sir Isaac Newton form a specious argument. The patrioticand political design of the Georgics is happily conceived; and anyprobable conjecture, which tends to raise the dignity of the poetand the poem, deserves to be adopted, without a rigid scrutiny. Somedawnings of a philosophic spirit enlighten the general remarks on thestudy of history and of man. I am not displeased with the inquiry intothe origin and nature of the gods of polytheism, which might deservethe illustration of a riper judgment. Upon the whole, I may apply tothe first labour of my pen the speech of a far superior artist, whenhe surveyed the first productions of his pencil. After viewing someportraits which he had painted in his youth, my friend Sir JoshuaReynolds acknowledged to me, that he was rather humbled than flatteredby the comparison with his present works; and that after so much timeand study, he had conceived his improvement to be much greater than hefound it to have been. 

At Lausanne I composed the first chapters of my Essay in French, thefamiliar language of my conversation and studies, in which it was easierfor me to write than in my mother tongue. After my return to EnglandI continued the same practice, without any affectation, or design ofrepudiating (as Dr. Bentley would say) my vernacular idiom. But I shouldhave escaped some Anti-gallican clamour, had I been content with themore natural character of an English author. I should have been moreconsistent had I rejected Mallet's advice, of prefixing an Englishdedication to a French book; a confusion of tongues that seemed toaccuse the ignorance of my patron. The use of a foreign dialect might beexcused by the hope of being employed as a negociator, by the desireof being generally understood on the continent; but my true motive wasdoubtless the ambition of new and singular fame, an Englishmanclaiming a place among the writers of France. The latin tongue hadbeen consecrated by the service of the church, it was refined by theimitation of the ancients; and in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuriesthe scholars of Europe enjoyed the advantage, which they have graduallyresigned, of conversing and writing in a common and learned idiom. Asthat idiom was no longer in any country the vulgar speech, they allstood on a level with each other; yet a citizen of old Rome might havesmiled at the best Latinity of the Germans and Britons; and we may learnfrom the Ciceronianus of Erasmus, how difficult it was found to steer amiddle course between pedantry and barbarism. The Romans themselveshad sometimes attempted a more perilous task, of writing in a livinglanguage, and appealing to the taste and judgment of the natives. Thevanity of Tully was doubly interested in the Greek memoirs of his ownconsulship; and if he modestly supposes that some Latinisms might bedetected in his style, he is confident of his own skill in the art ofIsocrates and Aristotle; and he requests his friend Atticus to dispersethe copies of his work at Athens, and in the other cities of Greece, (AdAtticum, i. 19. Ii. I. ) But it must not be forgotten, that from infancyto manhood Cicero and his contemporaries had read and declaimed, andcomposed with equal diligence in both languages; and that he was notallowed to frequent a Latin school till he had imbibed the lessons ofthe Greek grammarians and rhetoricians. In modern times, the language ofFrance has been diffused by the merit of her writers, the social mannersof the natives, the influence of the monarchy, and the exile of theprotestants. Several foreigners have seized the opportunity of speakingto Europe in this common dialect, and Germany may plead the authorityof Leibnitz and Frederick, of the first of her philosophers, and thegreatest of her kings. The just pride and laudable prejudice of Englandhas restrained this communication of idioms; and of all the nations onthis side of the Alps, my Countrymen are the least practised, and leastperfect in the exercise of the French tongue. By Sir William Templeand Lord Chesterfield it was only used on occasions of civility andbusiness, and their printed letters will not be quoted as models ofcomposition. Lord Bolingbroke may have published in French a sketch ofhis Reflections on Exile: but his reputation now reposes on the addressof Voltaire, "Docte sermones utriusque linguae;" and by his Englishdedication to Queen Caroline, and his Essay on Epic Poetry, it shouldseem that Voltaire himself wished to deserve a return of the samecompliment. The exception of Count Hamilton cannot fairly be urged;though an Irishman by birth, he was educated in France from hischildhood. Yet I am surprised that a long residence in England, and thehabits of domestic conversation, did not affect the ease and purity ofhis inimitable style; and I regret the omission of his English verses, which might have afforded an amusing object of comparison. I mighttherefore assume the primus ego in patriam, &c. ; but with what successI have explored this untrodden path must be left to the decision ofmy French readers. Dr. Maty, who might himself be questioned as aforeigner, has secured his retreat at my expense. "Je ne crois pas quevous vous piquiez d'etre moins facile a reconnoitre pour un Anglois queLucullus pour un Romain. " My friends at Paris have been more indulgent, they received me as a countryman, or at least as a provincial; but theywere friends and Parisians. The defects which Maty insinuates, "Cestraits saillans, ces figures hardies, ce sacrifice de la regle ausentiment, et de la cadence a la force, " are the faults of the youth, rather than of the stranger: and after the long and laborious exerciseof my own language, I am conscious that my French style has been ripenedand improved. 

I have already hinted, that the publication of my essay was delayed tillI had embraced the military profession. I shall now amuse myself withthe recollection of an active scene, which bears no affinity to anyother period of my studious and social life. 

In the outset of a glorious war, the English people had been defendedby the aid of German mercenaries. A national militia has been the cry ofevery patriot since the Revolution; and this measure, both in parliamentand in the field, was supported by the country gentlemen or Tories, whoinsensibly transferred their loyalty to the house of Hanover: inthe language of Mr. Burke, they have changed the idol, but they havepreserved the idolatry. In the act of offering our names and receivingour commissions, as major and captain in the Hampshire regiment, (June12, 1759, ) we had not supposed that we should be dragged away, my fatherfrom his farm, myself from my books, and condemned, during two yearsand a half, (May 10, 1760--December 23, 1762, ) to a wandering life ofmilitary servitude. But a weekly or monthly exercise of thirty thousandprovincials would have left them useless and ridiculous; and after thepretence of an invasion had vanished, the popularity of Mr. Pitt gavea sanction to the illegal step of keeping them till the end of thewar under arms, in constant pay and duty, and at a distance from theirrespective homes. When the King's order for our embodying came down, itwas too late to retreat, and too soon to repent. The South battalion ofthe Hampshire militia was a small independent corps of four hundredand seventy-six, officers and men, commanded by lieutenant-colonel SirThomas Worsley, who, after a prolix and passionate contest, delivered usfrom the tyranny of the lord lieutenant, the Duke of Bolton. My properstation, as first captain, was at the head of my own, and afterwards ofthe grenadier, company; but in the absence, or even in the presence, ofthe two field officers, I was entrusted by my friend and my fatherwith the effective labour of dictating the orders, and exercising thebattalion. With the help of an original journal, I could write thehistory of my bloodless and inglorious campaigns; but as these eventshave lost much of their importance in my own eyes, they shall bedispatched in a few words. From Winchester, the first place of assembly, (June 4, 1760, ) we were removed, at our own request, for the benefit ofa foreign education. By the arbitrary, and often capricious, orders ofthe War-office, the battalion successively marched to the pleasant andhospitable Blandford (June 17); to Hilsea barracks, a seat of diseaseand discord (Sept. 1); to Cranbrook in the weald of Kent (Dec. 11); tothe sea-coast of Dover (Dec. 27); to Winchester camp (June 25, 1761);to the populous and disorderly town of Devizes (Oct. 23); to Salisbury(Feb. 28, 1762); to our beloved Blandford a second time (March 9); andfinally, to the fashionable resort of Southampton (June 2); where thecolours were fixed till our final dissolution. (Dec. 23). On the beachat Dover we had exercised in sight of the Gallic shores. But the mostsplendid and useful scene of our life was a four months' encampment onWinchester Down, under the command of the Earl of Effingham. Our armyconsisted of the thirty-fourth regiment of foot and six militia corps. The consciousness of our defects was stimulated by friendly emulation. We improved our time and opportunities in morning and eveningfield-days; and in the general reviews the South Hampshire were rathera credit than a disgrace to the line. In our subsequent quarters of theDevizes and Blandford, we advanced with a quick step in our militarystudies; the ballot of the ensuing summer renewed our vigour and youth;and had the militia subsisted another year, we might have contested theprize with the most perfect of our brethren. 

The loss of so many busy and idle hours was not compensated by anyelegant pleasure; and my temper was insensibly soured by the society ofout rustic officers. In every state there exists, however, a balance ofgood and evil. The habits of a sedentary life were usefully broken bythe duties of an active profession: in the healthful exercise of thefield I hunted with a battalion, instead of a pack; and at that timeI was ready, at any hour of the day or night, to fly from quarters toLondon, from London to quarters, on the slightest call of private orregimental business. But my principal obligation to the militia, was themaking me an Englishman, and a soldier. After my foreign education, withmy reserved temper, I should long have continued a stranger in my nativecountry, had I not been shaken in this various scene of new faces andnew friends: had not experience forced me to feel the characters ofour leading men, the state of parties, the forms of office, and theoperation of our civil and military system. In this peaceful serviceI imbibed the rudiments of the language, and science of tactics, whichopened a new field of study and observation. I diligently read, andmeditated, the Memoires Militaires of Quintus Icilius, (Mr. Guichardt, )the only writer who has united the merits of a professor and a veteran. The discipline and evolutions of a modern battalion gave me a clearernotion of the phalanx and the legion; and the captain of the Hampshiregrenadiers (the reader may smile) has not been useless to the historianof the Roman empire. 

A youth of any spirit is fired even by the play of arms, and in thefirst sallies of my enthusiasm I had seriously attempted to embrace theregular profession of a soldier. But this military fever was cooled bythe enjoyment of our mimic Bellona, who soon unveiled to my eyes hernaked deformity. How often did I sigh for my proper station in societyand letters. How often (a proud comparison) did I repeat the complaintof Cicero in the command of a provincial army: "Clitellae bovi suntimpositae. Est incredibile quam me negotii taedeat. Non habet satismagnum campum ille tibi non ignotus cursus animi; et industriae meaepraeclara opera cessat. Lucem, libros, urbem, domum, vos desidero. Sedferam, ut potero; sit modo annuum. Si prorogatur, actum est. "--Epist. AdAtticum, lib. V. 15. From a service without danger I might indeed haveretired without disgrace; but as often as I hinted a wish of resigning, my fetters were riveted by the friendly intreaties of the colonel, theparental authority of the major, and my own regard for the honourand welfare of the battalion. When I felt that my personal escape wasimpracticable, I bowed my neck to the yoke: my servitude was protractedfar beyond the annual patience of Cicero; and it was not till after thepreliminaries of peace that I received my discharge, from the act ofgovernment which disembodied the militia. 

When I complain of the loss of time, justice to myself and to themilitia must throw the greatest part of that reproach on the first sevenor eight months, while I was obliged to learn as well as to teach. Thedissipation of Blandford, and the disputes of Portsmouth, consumed thehours which were not employed in the field; and amid the perpetual hurryof an inn, a barrack, or a guard-room, all literary ideas were banishedfrom my mind. After this long fast, the longest which I have ever known, I once more tasted at Dover the pleasures of reading and thinking;and the hungry appetite with which I opened a volume of Tully'sphilosophical works is still present to my memory. The last review of myEssay before its publication, had prompted me to investigate the natureof the gods; my inquiries led me to the Historie Critique du Manicheismeof Beausobre, who discusses many deep questions of Pagan and Christiantheology: and from this rich treasury of facts and opinions, I deducedmy own consequences, beyond the holy circle of the author. After thisrecovery I never relapsed into indolence; and my example might prove, that in the life most averse to study, some hours may be stolen, some minutes may be snatched. Amidst the tumult of Winchester camp Isometimes thought and read in my tent; in the more settled quarters ofthe Devizes, Blandford, and Southampton, I always secured a separatelodging, and the necessary books; and in the summer of 1762, while thenew militia was raising, I enjoyed at Buriton two or three months ofliterary repose. In forming a new plan of study, I hesitated between themathematics and the Greek language; both of which I had neglectedsince my return from Lausanne. I consulted a learned and friendlymathematician, Mr. George Scott, a pupil of de Moivre; and his map of acountry which I have never explored, may perhaps be more serviceable toothers. As soon as I had given the preference to Greek, the example ofScaliger and my own reason determined me on the choice of Homer, thefather of poetry, and the Bible of the ancients: but Scaliger ranthrough the Iliad in one and twenty days; and I was not dissatisfiedwith my own diligence for performing the same labour in an equal numberof weeks. After the first difficulties were surmounted, the language ofnature and harmony soon became easy and familiar, and each day I sailedupon the ocean with a brisker gale and a more steady course. 

{Passage in Greek}

Ilias, A 481. 

 --Fair wind, and blowing fresh, Apollo sent them; quick they rear'd the mast, Then spread th'unsullied canvas to the gale, And the wind fill'd it. Roar'd the sable flood Around the bark, that ever as she went Dash'd wide the brine, and scudded swift away. COWPER'S Homer. 

In the study of a poet who has since become the most intimate of myfriends, I successively applied many passages and fragments of Greekwriters; and among these I shall notice a life of Homer, in the OposculaMythologica of Gale, several books of the geography of Strabo, and theentire treatise of Longinus, which, from the title and the style, isequally worthy of the epithet of sublime. My grammatical skill wasimproved, my vocabulary was enlarged; and in the militia I acquired ajust and indelible knowledge of the first of languages. On every march, in every journey, Horace was always in my pocket, and often in my hand:but I should not mention his two critical epistles, the amusement of amorning, had they not been accompanied by the elaborate commentaryof Dr. Hurd, now Bishop of Worcester. On the interesting subjects ofcomposition and imitation of epic and dramatic poetry, I presumed tothink for myself; and thirty close-written pages in folio could scarcelycomprise my full and free discussion of the sense of the master and thepedantry of the servant. 

After his oracle Dr. Johnson, my friend Sir Joshua Reynolds deniesall original genius, any natural propensity of the mind to one artor science rather than another. Without engaging in a metaphysical orrather verbal dispute, I know, by experience, that from my early youth Iaspired to the character of an historian. While I served in the militia, before and after the publication of my essay, this idea ripened in mymind; nor can I paint in more lively colours the feelings of the moment, than by transcribing some passages, under their respective dates, from ajournal which I kept at that time. Beriton, April 14, 1761. (In a shortexcursion from Dover. )--"Having thought of several subjects for anhistorical composition, I chose the expedition of Charles VIII. OfFrance into Italy. I read two memoirs of Mr. De Foncemagne in theAcademy of Inscriptions (tom. Xvii. P. 539-607. ), and abstracted them. Ilikewise finished this day a dissertation, in which I examine the rightof Charles VIII. To the crown of Naples, and the rival claims of theHouse of Anjou and Arragon: it consists of ten folio pages, besideslarge notes. "

Beriton, August 4, 1761. (In a week's excursion from Winchestercamp. )--"After having long revolved subjects for my intended historicalessay, I renounced my first thought of the expedition of Charles VIII. As too remote from us, and rather an introduction to great events, thangreat and important in itself. I successively chose and rejected thecrusade of Richard the First, the barons' wars against John and Henrythe Third, the History of Edward the Black Prince, the lives andcomparisons of Henry V. And the Emperor Titus, the life of Sir PhilipSidney, and that of the Marquis of Montrose. At length I have fixedon Sir Walter Raleigh for my hero. His eventful story is varied by thecharacters of the soldier and sailor, the courtier and historian; and itmay afford such a fund of materials as I desire, which have not yet beenproperly manufactured. At present I cannot attempt the execution of thiswork. Free leisure, and the opportunity of consulting many books, bothprinted and manuscript, are as necessary as they are impossible tobe attained in my present way of life. However, to acquire a generalinsight into my subject and resources, I read the life of Sir WalterRaleigh by Dr. Birch, his copious article in the General Dictionary bythe same hand, and the reigns of Queen Elizabeth and James the First inHume's History of England. " Beriton, January 1762. (In a month's absencefrom the Devizes. )--"During this interval of repose, I again turnedmy thoughts to Sir Walter Raleigh, and looked more closely into mymaterials. I read the two volumes in quarto of the Bacon Papers, published by Dr. Birch; the Fragmenta Regalia of Sir Robert Naunton, Mallet's Life of Lord Bacon, and the political treatises of that greatman in the first volume of his works, with many of his letters in thesecond; Sir William Monson's Naval Tracts, and the elaborate life of SirWalter Raleigh, which Mr. Oldys has prefixed to the best edition of hisHistory of the World. My subject opens upon me, and in general improvesupon a nearer prospect. "

Beriton, July 26, 1762. (During my summer residence. )--"I am afraid ofbeing reduced to drop my hero; but my time has not, however, been lostin the research of his story, and of a memorable aera of our Englishannals. The life of Sir Walter Raleigh, by Oldys, is a very poorperformance; a servile panegyric, or flat apology, tediously minute, and composed in a dull and affected style. Yet the author was a man ofdiligence and learning, who had read everything relative to his subject, and whose ample collections are arranged with perspicuity and method. Excepting some anecdotes lately revealed in the Sidney and Bacon Papers, I know not what I should be able to add. My ambition (exclusive of theuncertain merit of style and sentiment) must be confined to the hopeof giving a good abridgment of Oldys. I have even the disappointment offinding some parts of this copious work very dry and barren; and theseparts are unluckily some of the most characteristic: Raleigh's colonyof Virginia, his quarrels with Essex, the true secret of his conspiracy, and, above all, the detail of his private life, the most essential andimportant to a biographer. My best resource would be in the circumjacenthistory of the times, and perhaps in some digressions artfullyintroduced, like the fortunes of the Peripatetic philosophy in theportrait of Lord Bacon. But the reigns of Elizabeth and James the Firstare the periods of English history, which have been the most variouslyillustrated: and what new lights could I reflect on a subject, whichhas exercised the accurate industry of Birch, the lively and curiousacuteness of Walpole, the critical spirit of Hurd, the vigorous sense ofMallet and Robertson, and the impartial philosophy of Hume? Could I evensurmount these obstacles, I should shrink with terror from the modernhistory of England, where every character is a problem, and every readera friend or an enemy; where a writer is supposed to hoist a flag ofparty, and is devoted to damnation by the adverse faction. Such wouldbe my reception at home: and abroad, the historian of Raleigh mustencounter an indifference far more bitter than censure or reproach. Theevents of his life are interesting: but his character is ambiguous, hisactions are obscure, his writings are English, and his fame is confinedto the narrow limits of our language and our island. I must embrace asafer and more extensive theme. 

"There is one which I should prefer to all others, The History of theLiberty of the Swiss, of that independence which a brave people rescuedfrom the House of Austria, defended against a Dauphin of France, andfinally sealed with the blood of Charles of Burgundy. From such a theme, so full of public spirit, of military glory, of examples of virtue, oflessons of government, the dullest stranger would catch fire; what mightnot I hope, whose talents, whatsoever they may be, would be inflamedwith the zeal of patriotism. But the materials of this history areinaccessible to me, fast locked in the obscurity of an old barbarousGerman dialect, of which I am totally ignorant, and which I cannotresolve to learn for this sole and peculiar purpose. 

"I have another subject in view, which is the contrast of the formerhistory: the one a poor, warlike, virtuous republic, which emerges intoglory and freedom; the other a commonwealth, soft, opulent, and corrupt;which, by just degrees, is precipitated from the abuse to the loss ofher liberty: both lessons are, perhaps, equally instructive. This secondsubject is, The History of the Republic of Florence under the Houseof Medicis: a period of one hundred and fifty years, which rises ordescends from the dregs of the Florentine democracy, to the title anddominion of Cosmo de Medicis in the Grand Duchy of Tuscany. I mightdeduce a chain of revolutions not unworthy of the pen of Vertot;singular men, and singular events; the Medicis four times expelled, andas often recalled; and the Genius of Freedom reluctantly yielding to thearms of Charles V. And the policy of Cosmo. The character and fateof Savanerola, and the revival of arts and letters in Italy, will beessentially connected with the elevation of the family and the fall ofthe republic. The Medicis (stirps quasi fataliter nata ad instaurandavel fovenda studia (Lipsius ad Germanos et Galles, Epist. Viii. )) wereillustrated by the patronage of learning; and enthusiasm was the mostformidable weapon of their adversaries. On this splendid subject I shallmost probably fix; but when, or where, or how will it be executed? Ibehold in a dark and doubtful perspective. "

 Res alta terra, et caligine mersas. 

The youthful habits of the language and manners of France had left in mymind an ardent desire of revisiting the Continent on a larger and moreliberal plan. According to the law of custom, and perhaps of reason, foreign travel completes the education of an English gentleman: myfather had consented to my wish, but I was detained above four years bymy rash engagement in the militia. I eagerly grasped the first momentsof freedom: three or four weeks in Hampshire and London were employedin the preparations of my journey, and the farewell visits of friendshipand civility: my last act in town was to applaud Mallet's new tragedy ofElvira; a post-chaise conveyed me to Dover, the packet to Boulogne, and such was my diligence, that I reached Paris on Jan. 28, 1763, onlythirty-six days after the disbanding of the militia. Two or three yearswere loosely defined for the term of my absence; and I was left atliberty to spend that time in such places and in such a manner as wasmost agreeable to my taste and judgment. 

In this first visit I passed three months and a half, (Jan. 28-May 9, )and a much longer space might have been agreeably filled, without anyintercourse with the natives. At home we are content to move in thedaily round of pleasure and business; and a scene which is alwayspresent is supposed to be within our knowledge, or at least withinour power. But in a foreign country, curiosity is our business and ourpleasure; and the traveller, conscious of his ignorance, and covetousof his time, is diligent in the search and the view of every object thatcan deserve his attention. I devoted many hours of the morning to thecircuit of Paris and the neighbourhood, to the visit of churches andpalaces conspicuous by their architecture, to the royal manufactures, collections of books and pictures, and all the various treasures of art, of learning, and of luxury. An Englishman may hear without reluctance, that in these curious and costly articles Paris is superior to London;since the opulence of the French capital arises from the defects ofits government and religion. In the absence of Louis XIV. And hissuccessors, the Louvre has been left unfinished: but the millions whichhave been lavished on the sands of Versailles, and the morass of Marli, could not be supplied by the legal allowance of a British king. Thesplendour of the French nobles is confined to their town residence; thatof the English is more usefully distributed in their country seats;and we should be astonished at our own riches, if the labours ofarchitecture, the spoils of Italy and Greece, which are now scatteredfrom Inverary to Wilton, were accumulated in a few streets betweenMarylebone and Westminster. All superfluous ornament is rejected by thecold frugality of the protestants; but the catholic superstition, whichis always the enemy of reason, is often the parent of the arts. Thewealthy communities of priests and monks expend their revenues instately edifices; and the parish church of St. Sulpice, one of thenoblest structures in Paris, was built and adorned by the privateindustry of a late cure. In this outset, and still more in the sequel ofmy tour, my eye was amused; but the pleasing vision cannot be fixed bythe pen; the particular images are darkly seen through the medium offive-and-twenty years, and the narrative of my life must not degenerateinto a book of travels. 

But the principal end of my journey was to enjoy the society of apolished and amiable people, in whose favour I was strongly prejudiced, and to converse with some authors, whose conversation, as I fondlyimagined, must be far more pleasing and instructive than their writings. The moment was happily chosen. At the close of a successful war theBritish name was respected on the continent. 

 Clarum et venerabile nomen Gentibus. 

Our opinions, our fashions, even our games, were adopted in France, aray of national glory illuminated each individual, and every Englishmanwas supposed to be born a patriot and a philosopher. For myself, Icarried a personal recommendation; my name and my Essay were alreadyknown; the compliment of having written in the French language entitledme to some returns of civility and gratitude. I was considered as a manof letters, who wrote for amusement. Before my departure I had obtainedfrom the Duke de Nivernois, Lady Hervey, the Mallets, Mr. Walpole, &c. Many letters of recommendation to their private or literary friends. Of these epistles the reception and success were determined by thecharacter and situation of the persons by whom and to whom theywere addressed: the seed was sometimes cast on a barren rock, and itsometimes multiplied an hundred fold in the production of new shoots, spreading branches, and exquisite fruit. But upon the whole, I hadreason to praise the national urbanity, which from the court hasdiffused its gentle influence to the shop, the cottage, and the schools. Of the men of genius of the age, Montesquieu and Fontenelle were nomore; Voltaire resided on his own estate near Geneva; Rousseau in thepreceding year had been driven from his hermitage of Montmorency; and Iblush at my having neglected to seek, in this journey, the acquaintanceof Buffon. Among the men of letters whom I saw, D'Alembert and Diderotheld the foremost rank in merit, or at least in fame. I shall contentmyself with enumerating the well-known names of the Count de Caylus, ofthe Abbe de la Bleterie, Barthelemy, Reynal, Arnaud, of Messieurs dela Condamine, du Clos, de Ste Palaye, de Bougainville, Caperonnier, deGuignes, Suard, &c. Without attempting to discriminate the shades oftheir characters, or the degrees of our connection. Alone, in a morningvisit, I commonly found the artists and authors of Paris less vain, andmore reasonable, than in the circles of their equals, with whom theymingle in the houses of the rich. Four days in a week, I had place, without invitation, at the hospitable tables of Mesdames Geoffrin and duBocage, of the celebrated Helvetius, and of the Baron d'Olbach. In thesesymposia the pleasures of the table were improved by lively and liberalconversation; the company was select, though various and voluntary. 

The society of Madame du Bocage was more soft and moderate than thatof her rivals, and the evening conversations of M. De Foncemagne weresupported by the good sense and learning of the principal members ofthe Academy of Inscriptions. The opera and the Italians I occasionallyvisited; but the French theatre, both in tragedy and comedy, was mydaily and favourite amusement. Two famous actresses then divided thepublic applause. For my own part, I preferred the consummate art of theClaron, to the intemperate sallies of the Dumesnil, which were extolledby her admirers, as the genuine voice of nature and passion. Fourteenweeks insensibly stole away; but had I been rich and independent, Ishould have prolonged, and perhaps have fixed, my residence at Paris. 

Between the expensive style of Paris and of Italy it was prudent tointerpose some months of tranquil simplicity; and at the thoughts ofLausanne I again lived in the pleasures and studies of my early youth. Shaping my course through Dijon and Besancon, in the last of whichplaces I was kindly entertained by my cousin Acton, I arrived inthe month of May 1763 on the banks of the Leman Lake. It had beenmy intention to pass the Alps in the autumn, but such are the simpleattractions of the place, that the year had almost expired before mydeparture from Lausanne in the ensuing spring. An absence of five yearshad not made much alteration in manners, or even in persons. My oldfriends, of both sexes, hailed my voluntary return; the most genuineproof of my attachment. They had been flattered by the present of mybook, the produce of their soil; and the good Pavilliard shed tears ofjoy as he embraced a pupil, whose literary merit he might fairly imputeto his own labours. To my old list I added some new acquaintance, andamong the strangers I shall distinguish Prince Lewis of Wirtemberg, thebrother of the reigning Duke, at whose country-house, near Lausanne, Ifrequently dined: a wandering meteor, and at length a falling star, hislight and ambitious spirit had successively dropped from the firmamentof Prussia, of France, and of Austria; and his faults, which he styledhis misfortunes, had driven him into philosophic exile in the Pays deVaud. He could now moralize on the vanity of the world, the equality ofmankind, and the happiness of a private station. His address was affableand polite, and as he had shone in courts and armies, his memory couldsupply, and his eloquence could adorn, a copious fund of interestinganecdotes. His first enthusiasm was that of charity and agriculture; butthe sage gradually lapsed in the saint, and Prince Lewis of Wirtembergis now buried in a hermitage near Mayence, in the last stage of mysticdevotion. By some ecclesiastical quarrel, Voltaire had been provokedto withdraw himself from Lausanne, and retire to his castle at Ferney, where I again visited the poet and the actor, without seeking his moreintimate acquaintance, to which I might now have pleaded a better title. But the theatre which he had founded, the actors whom he had formed, survived the loss of their master; and, recent from Paris, I attendedwith pleasure at the representation of several tragedies and comedies. I shall not descend to specify particular names and characters; but Icannot forget a private institution, which will display the innocentfreedom of Swiss manners. My favourite society had assumed, from theage of its members, the proud denomination of the spring (la society duprintems). It consisted of fifteen or twenty young unmarried ladies, ofgenteel, though not of the very first families; the eldest perhaps abouttwenty, all agreeable, several handsome, and two or three of exquisitebeauty. At each other's houses they assembled almost every day, withoutthe controul, or even the presence, of a mother or an aunt; they weretrusted to their own prudence, among a crowd of young men of everynation in Europe. They laughed, they sung, they danced, they played atcards, they acted comedies; but in the midst of this careless gaiety, they respected themselves, and were respected by the men; the invisibleline between liberty and licentiousness was never transgressed by agesture, a word, or a look, and their virgin chastity was neversullied by the breath of scandal or suspicion. A singular institution, expressive of the innocent simplicity of Swiss manners. After havingtasted the luxury of England and Paris, I could not have returned withsatisfaction to the coarse and homely table of Madame Pavilliard; norwas her husband offended that I now entered myself as a pensionaire, orboarder, in the elegant house of Mr. De Mesery, which may be entitledto a short remembrance, as it has stood above twenty years, perhaps, without a parallel in Europe. The house in which we lodged was spaciousand convenient, in the best street, and commanding, from behind, anoble prospect over the country and the Lake. Our table was served withneatness and plenty; the boarders were select; we had the liberty ofinviting any guests at a stated price; and in the summer the scenewas occasionally transferred to a pleasant villa, about a league fromLausanne. The characters of Master and Mistress were happily suited toeach other, and to their situation. At the age of seventy-five, Madamede Mesery, who has survived her husband, is still a graceful, I hadalmost said, a handsome woman. She was alike qualified to preside in herkitchen and her drawing-room; and such was the equal propriety of herconduct, that of two or three hundred foreigners, none ever failed inrespect, none could complain of her neglect, and none could ever boastof her favour. Mesery himself, of the noble family of De Crousaz, wasa man of the world, a jovial companion, whose easy manners and naturalsallies maintained the cheerfulness of his house. His wit could laughat his own ignorance: he disguised, by an air of profusion, a strictattention to his interest; and in this situation he appeared like anobleman who spent his fortune and entertained his friends. In thisagreeable society I resided nearly eleven months (May 1763--April1764); and in this second visit to Lausanne, among a crowd of my Englishcompanions, I knew and esteemed Mr. Holroyd (now Lord Sheffield); andour mutual attachment was renewed and fortified in the subsequent stagesof our Italian journey. Our lives are in the power of chance, and aslight variation on either side, in time or place, might have deprivedme of a friend, whose activity in the ardour of youth was alwaysprompted by a benevolent heart, and directed by a strong understanding. 

If my studies at Paris had been confined to the study of the world, three or four months would not have been unprofitably spent. My visits, however superficial, to the Academy of Medals and the public libraries, opened a new field of inquiry; and the view of so many manuscriptsof different ages and characters induced me to consult the two greatBenedictine works, the Diplomatica of Mabillon, and the Palaeographia ofMontfaucon. I studied the theory without attaining the practice of theart: nor should I complain of the intricacy of Greek abbreviations andGothic alphabets, since every day, in a familiar language, I am ata loss to decipher the hieroglyphics of a female note. In a tranquilscene, which revived the memory of my first studies, idleness wouldhave been less pardonable: the public libraries of Lausanne and Genevaliberally supplied me with books; and if many hours were lost indissipation, many more were employed in literary labour. In the country, Horace and Virgil, Juvenal and Ovid, were my assiduous companionsbut, in town, I formed and executed a plan of study for the use ofmy Transalpine expedition: the topography of old Rome, the ancientgeography of Italy, and the science of medals. 1. I diligently read, almost always with my pen in my hand, the elaborate treatises ofNardini, Donatus, &c. , which fill the fourth volume of the RomanAntiquities of Graevius. 2. I next undertook and finished the ItaliaAntiqua of Cluverius, a learned native of Prussia, who had measured, on foot, every spot, and has compiled and digested every passage of theancient writers. These passages in Greek or Latin authors I perused inthe text of Cluverius, in two folio volumes: but I separately readthe descriptions of Italy by Strabo, Pliny, and Pomponius Mela, theCatalogues of the Epic poets, the Itineraries of Wesseling's Antoninus, and the coasting Voyage of Rutilius Numatianus; and I studied twokindred subjects in the Measures Itineraires of d'Anville, and thecopious work of Bergier, Histoire des grands Chemins de I'Empire Romain. From these materials I formed a table of roads and distances reducedto our English measure; filled a folio common-place book with mycollections and remarks on the geography of Italy; and inserted in myjournal many long and learned notes on the insulae and populousness ofRome, the social war, the passage of the Alps by Hannibal, &c. 3. Afterglancing my eye over Addison's agreeable dialogues, I more seriouslyread the great work of Ezechiel Spanheim de Praestantia et UsuNumismatum, and applied with him the medals of the kings and emperors, the families and colonies, to the illustration of ancient history. Andthus was I armed for my Italian journey. 

I shall advance with rapid brevity in the narrative of this tour, inwhich somewhat more than a year (April 1764-May 1765) was agreeablyemployed. Content with tracing my line of march, and slightly touchingon my personal feelings, I shall waive the minute investigation of thescenes which have been viewed by thousands, and described by hundreds, of our modern travellers. ROME is the great object of our pilgrimage:and 1st, the journey; 2d, the residence; and 3d, the return; will formthe most proper and perspicuous division. 1. I climbed Mount Cenis, anddescended into the plain of Piedmont, not on the back of an elephant, but on a light osier seat, in the hands of the dextrous and intrepidchairmen of the Alps. The architecture and government of Turin presentedthe same aspect of tame and tiresome uniformity: but the court wasregulated with decent and splendid oeconomy; and I was introduced to hisSardinian majesty Charles Emanuel, who, after the incomparable Frederic, held the second rank (proximus longo tamen intervallo) among the kingsof Europe. The size and populousness of Milan could not surprise aninhabitant of London: but the fancy is amused by a visit to the BoromeanIslands, an enchanted palace, a work of the fairies in the midst of alake encompassed with mountains, and far removed from the haunts of men. I was less amused by the marble palaces of Genoa, than by the recentmemorials of her deliverance (in December 1746) from the Austriantyranny; and I took a military survey of every scene of action withinthe inclosure of her double walls. My steps were detained at Parma andModena, by the precious relics of the Farnese and Este collections: but, alas! the far greater part had been already transported, by inheritanceor purchase, to Naples and Dresden. By the road of Bologna and theApennine I at last reached Florence, where I reposed from June toSeptember, during the heat of the summer months. In the Gallery, andespecially in the Tribune, I first acknowledged, at the feet of theVenus of Medicis, that the chisel may dispute the pre-eminence with thepencil, a truth in the fine arts which cannot on this side of the Alpsbe felt or understood. At home I had taken some lessons of Italianon the spot I read, with a learned native, the classics of the Tuscanidiom: but the shortness of my time, and the use of the French language, prevented my acquiring any facility of speaking; and I was a silentspectator in the conversations of our envoy, Sir Horace Mann, whose mostserious business was that of entertaining the English at his hospitabletable. After leaving Florence, I compared the solitude of Pisa with theindustry of Lucca and Leghorn, and continued my journey through Siennato Rome, where I arrived in the beginning of October. 2. My temper isnot very susceptible of enthusiasm; and the enthusiasm which I do notfeel, I have ever scorned to affect. But, at the distance of twenty-fiveyears, I can neither forget nor express the strong emotions whichagitated my mind as I first approached and entered the eternal city. After a sleepless night, I trod, with a lofty step, the ruins of theForum; each memorable spot where Romulus stood, or Tully spoke, or Caesar fell, was at once present to my eye; and several days ofintoxication were lost or enjoyed before I could descend to a cool andminute investigation. My guide was Mr. Byers, a Scotch antiquary ofexperience and taste; but, in the daily labour of eighteen weeks, the powers of attention were sometimes fatigued, till I was myselfqualified, in a last review, to select and study the capital works ofancient and modern art. Six weeks were borrowed for my tour of Naples, the most populous of cities, relative to its size, whose luxuriousinhabitants seem to dwell on the confines of paradise and hell-fire. Iwas presented to the boy-king by our new envoy, Sir William Hamilton;who, wisely diverting his correspondence from the Secretary of State tothe Royal Society and British Museum, has elucidated a country of suchinestimable value to the naturalist and antiquarian. On my return, Ifondly embraced, for the last time, the miracles of Rome; but I departedwithout kissing the feet of Rezzonico (Clement XIII. ), who neitherpossessed the wit of his predecessor Lambertini, nor the virtues of hissuccessor Ganganelli. 3. In my pilgrimage from Rome to Loretto I againcrossed the Apennine; from the coast of the Adriatic I traversed afruitful and populous country, which could alone disprove the paradoxof Montesquieu, that modern Italy is a desert. Without adopting theexclusive prejudice of the natives, I sincerely admire the paintingsof the Bologna school. I hastened to escape from the sad solitudeof Ferrara, which in the age of Caesar was still more desolate. Thespectacle of Venice afforded some hours of astonishment; the universityof Padua is a dying taper: but Verona still boasts her amphitheatre, andhis native Vicenza is adorned by the classic architecture of Palladio:the road of Lombardy and Piedmont (did Montesquieu find them withoutinhabitants?) led me back to Milan, Turin, and the passage of MountCenis, where I again crossed the Alps in my way to Lyons. 

The use of foreign travel has been often debated as a general question;but the conclusion must be finally applied to the character andcircumstances of each individual. With the education of boys, where orhow they may pass over some juvenile years with the least mischiefto themselves or others, I have no concern. But after supposing theprevious and indispensable requisites of age, judgment, a competentknowledge of men and books, and a freedom from domestic prejudices, Iwill briefly describe the qualifications which I deem most essential toa traveller. He should be endowed with an active, indefatigable vigourof mind and body, which can seize every mode of conveyance, and support, with a careless smile, every hardship of the road, the weather, or theinn. The benefits of foreign travel will correspond with the degrees ofthese qualifications; but, in this sketch, those to whom I am known willnot accuse me of framing my own panegyric. It was at Rome, on the 15thof October 1764, as I sat musing amidst the ruins of the Capitol, whilethe bare-footed fryars were singing vespers in the temple of Jupiter, that the idea of writing the decline and fall of the city first startedto my mind. But my original plan was circumscribed to the decay of thecity rather than of the empire: and though my reading and reflectionsbegan to point towards that object, some years elapsed, and severalavocations intervened, before I was seriously engaged in the executionof that laborious work. 

I had not totally renounced the southern provinces of France, but theletters which I found at Lyons were expressive of some impatience. Rome and Italy had satiated my curious appetite, and I was now readyto return to the peaceful retreat of my family and books. After a happyfortnight I reluctantly left Paris, embarked at Calais, again landed atDover, after an interval of two years and five months, and hastilydrove through the summer dust and solitude of London. On June 25 1765 Iarrived at my father's house: and the five years and a half between mytravels and my father's death (1770) are the portion of my life whichI passed with the least enjoyment, and which I remember with the leastsatisfaction. Every spring I attended the monthly meeting and exerciseof the militia at Southampton; and by the resignation of my father, andthe death of Sir Thomas Worsley, I was successively promoted to the rankof major and lieutenant-colonel commandant; but I was each yearmore disgusted with the inn, the wine, the company, and the tiresomerepetition of annual attendance and daily exercise. At home, theoeconomy of the family and farm still maintained the same creditableappearance. My connection with Mrs. Gibbon was mellowed into a warm andsolid attachment: my growing years abolished the distance that might yetremain between a parent and a son, and my behaviour satisfied my father, who was proud of the success, however imperfect in his own life-time, of my literary talents. Our solitude was soon and often enlivened bythe visit of the friend of my youth, Mr. Deyverdun, whose absence fromLausanne I had sincerely lamented. About three years after my firstdeparture, he had emigrated from his native lake to the banks of theOder in Germany. The res augusta domi, the waste of a decent patrimony, by an improvident father, obliged him, like many of his countrymen, toconfide in his own industry; and he was entrusted with the education ofa young prince, the grandson of the Margrave of Schavedt, of the RoyalFamily of Prussia. Our friendship was never cooled, our correspondencewas sometimes interrupted; but I rather wished than hoped to obtainMr. Deyverdun for the companion of my Italian tour. An unhappy, thoughhonourable passion, drove him from his German court; and the attractionsof hope and curiosity were fortified by the expectation of my speedyreturn to England. During four successive summers he passed severalweeks or months at Beriton, and our free conversations, on every topicthat-could interest the heart or understanding, would have reconciledme to a desert or a prison. In the winter months of London my sphere ofknowledge and action was somewhat enlarged, by the many new acquaintancewhich I had contracted in the militia and abroad; and I must regret, asmore than an acquaintance, Mr. Godfrey Clarke of Derbyshire, an amiableand worthy young man, who was snatched away by an untimely death. Aweekly convivial meeting was established by myself and travellers, underthe name of the Roman Club. 

The renewal, or perhaps the improvement, of my English life wasembittered by the alteration of my own feelings. At the age oftwenty-one I was, in my proper station of a youth, delivered from theyoke of education, and delighted with the comparative state of libertyand affluence. My filial obedience was natural and easy; and in the gayprospect of futurity, my ambition did not extend beyond the enjoymentof my books, my leisure, and my patrimonial estate, undisturbed by thecares of a family and the duties of a profession. But in the militia Iwas armed with power; in my travels, I was exempt from controul; and asI approached, as I gradually passed my thirtieth year, I began to feelthe desire of being master to my own house. The most gentle authoritywill sometimes frown without reason, the most cheerful submission willsometimes murmur without cause; and such is the law of our imperfectnature, that we must either command or obey; that our personal libertyis supported by the obsequiousness of our own dependants. While so manyof my acquaintance were married or in parliament, or advancing with arapid step in the various roads of honour and fortune, I stood alone, immoveable and insignificant; for after the monthly meeting of 1770, I had even withdrawn myself from the militia, by the resignation of anempty and barren commission. My temper is not susceptible of envy, andthe view of successful merit has always excited my warmest applause. The miseries of a vacant life were never known to a man whose hours wereinsufficient for the inexhaustible pleasures of study. But I lamentedthat at the proper age I had not embraced the lucrative pursuits of thelaw or of trade, the chances of civil office or India adventure, or eventhe fat slumbers of the church; and my repentance became more lively asthe loss of time was more irretrievable. Experience shewed me the useof grafting my private consequence on the importance of a greatprofessional body; the benefits of those firm connections which arecemented by hope and interest, by gratitude and emulation, by the mutualexchange of services and favours. From the emoluments of a profession Imight have derived an ample fortune, or a competent income, instead ofbeing stinted to the same narrow allowance, to be increased only by anevent which I sincerely deprecated. The progress and the knowledge ofour domestic disorders aggravated my anxiety, and I began to apprehendthat I might be left in my old age without the fruits either of industryor inheritance. 

In the first summer after my return, whilst I enjoyed at Beriton thesociety of my friend Deyverdun, our daily conversations expatiated overthe field of ancient and modern literature; and we freely discussed mystudies, my first Essay, and my future projects. The Decline and Fall ofRome I still contemplated at an awful distance: but the two historicaldesigns which had balanced my choice were submitted to his taste: andin the parallel between the Revolutions of Florence and Switzerland, our common partiality for a country which was his by birth, and mine byadoption, inclined the scale in favour of the latter. According to theplan, which was soon conceived and digested, I embraced a period of twohundred years, from the association of the three peasants of the Alpsto the plenitude and prosperity of the Helvetic body in the sixteenthcentury. I should have described the deliverance and victory of theSwiss, who have never shed the blood of their tyrants but in a fieldof battle; the laws and manners of the confederate states; the splendidtrophies of the Austrian, Burgundian, and Italian wars; and the wisdomof a nation, which, after some sallies of martial adventure, has beencontent to guard the blessings of peace with the sword of freedom. 

 --Manus haec inimica tyrannis Ense petit placidam sub libertate quietem. 

My judgment, as well as my enthusiasm, was satisfied with the glorioustheme; and the assistance of Deyverdun seemed to remove an insuperableobstacle. The French or Latin memorials, of which I was not ignorant, are inconsiderable in number and weight; but in the perfect acquaintanceof my friend with the German language, I found the key of a morevaluable collection. The most necessary books were procured; hetranslated, for my use, the folio volume of Schilling, a copious andcontemporary relation of the war of Burgundy; we read and marked themost interesting parts of the great chronicle of Tschudi; and by hislabour, or that of an inferior assistant, large extracts were madefrom the History of Lauffer and the Dictionary of Lew: yet such was thedistance and delay, that two years elapsed in these preparatory steps;and it was late in the third summer (1767) before I entered, with theseslender materials, on the more agreeable task of composition. A specimenof my History, the first book, was read the following winter in aliterary society of foreigners in London; and as the author wasunknown, I listened, without observation, to the free strictures, and unfavourable sentence, of my judges. The momentary sensation waspainful; but their condemnation was ratified by my cooler thoughts. Idelivered my imperfect sheets to the flames, --and for ever renounceda design in which some expence, much labour, and more time had been sovainly consumed. I cannot regret the loss of a slight and superficialessay, for such the work must have been in the hands of a stranger, uninformed by the scholars and statesmen, and remote from the librariesand archives of the Swiss republics. My ancient habits, and the presenceof Deyverdun, encouraged me to write in French for the continent ofEurope; but I was conscious myself that my style, above prose and belowpoetry, degenerated into a verbose and turgid declamation. Perhaps Imay impute the failure to the injudicious choice of a foreign language. Perhaps I may suspect that the language itself is ill adapted to sustainthe vigour and dignity of an important narrative. But if France, so richin literary merit, had produced a great original historian, his geniuswould have formed and fixed the idiom to the proper tone, the peculiarmodel of historical eloquence. 

It was in search of some liberal and lucrative employment that my friendDeyverdun had visited England. His remittances from home were scantyand precarious. My purse was always open, but it was often empty; and Ibitterly felt the want of riches and power, which might have enabledme to correct the errors of his fortune. His wishes and qualificationssolicited the station of the travelling governor of some wealthy pupil;but every vacancy provoked so many eager candidates, that for a longtime I struggled without success; nor was it till after much applicationthat I could even place him as a clerk in the office of the secretaryof state. In a residence of several years he never acquired the justpronunciation and familiar use of the English tongue, but he read ourmost difficult authors with ease and taste: his critical knowledge ofour language and poetry was such as few foreigners have possessed; andfew of our countrymen could enjoy the theatre of Shakspeare and Garrickwith more exquisite feeling and discernment. The consciousness of hisown strength, and the assurance of my aid, emboldened him to imitatethe example of Dr. Maty, whose Journal Britannique was esteemed andregretted; and to improve his model, by uniting with the transactionsof literature a philosophic view of the arts and manners of the Britishnation. Our journal for the year 1767, under the title of MemoiresLiteraires de la Grand Bretagne, was soon finished, and sent to thepress. For the first article, Lord Lyttelton's History of Henry II. , Imust own myself responsible; but the public has ratified my judgment ofthat voluminous work, in which sense and learning are not illuminated bya ray of genius. The next specimen was the choice of my friend, the BathGuide, a light and whimsical performance, of local, and even verbal, pleasantry. I started at the attempt: he smiled at my fears: his couragewas justified by success; and a master of both languages will applaudthe curious felicity with which he has transfused into French prose thespirit, and even the humour, of the English verse. It is not my wish todeny how deeply I was interested in these Memoirs, of which I need notsurely be ashamed; but at the distance of more than twenty years, itwould be impossible for me to ascertain the respective shares of thetwo associates. A long and intimate communication of ideas had castour sentiments and style in the same mould. In our social labours wecomposed and corrected by turns; and the praise which I might honestlybestow, would fall perhaps on some article or passage most properly myown. A second volume (for the year 1768) was published of theseMemoirs. I will presume to say, that their merit was superior to theirreputation; but it is not less true, that they were productive of morereputation than emolument. They introduced my friend to the protection, and myself to the acquaintance, of the Earl of Chesterfield, whose ageand infirmities secluded him from the world; and of Mr. David Hume, whowas under-secretary to the office in which Deyverdun was more humblyemployed. The former accepted a dedication, (April 12, 1769, ) andreserved the author for the future education of his successor: thelatter enriched the Journal with a reply to Mr. Walpole's HistoricalDoubts, which he afterwards shaped into the form of a note. Thematerials of the third volume were almost completed, when I recommendedDeyverdun as governor to Sir Richard Worsley, a youth, the son of my oldLieutenant-colonel, who was lately deceased. They set forwards on theirtravels; nor did they return to England till some time after my father'sdeath. 

My next publication was an accidental sally of love and resentment; ofmy reverence for modest genius, and my aversion for insolent pedantry. The sixth book of the AEneid is the most pleasing and perfectcomposition of Latin poetry. The descent of AEneas and the Sibyl tothe infernal regions, to the world of spirits, expands an awful andboundless prospect, from the nocturnal gloom of the Cumaean grot, Ibant obscuri sola sub nocte per umbram, to the meridian brightness of the Elysian fields;

 Largior hic campos aether et lumine vestit Purpureo---

from the dreams of simple Nature, to the dreams, alas! of Egyptiantheology, and the philosophy of the Greeks. But the final dismission ofthe hero through the ivory gate, whence

 Falsa ad coelum mittunt insomnia manes, seems to dissolve the whole enchantment, and leaves the reader ina state of cold and anxious scepticism. This most lame and impotentconclusion has been variously imputed to the taste or irreligion ofVirgil; but, according to the more elaborate interpretation of BishopWarburton, the descent to hell is not a false, but a mimic scene; whichrepresents the initiation of AEneas, in the character of a law-giver, to the Eleusinian mysteries. This hypothesis, a singular chapter inthe Divine Legation of Moses, had been admitted by many as true; itwas praised by all as ingenious; nor had it been exposed, in a space ofthirty years, to a fair and critical discussion. The learning andthe abilities of the author had raised him to a just eminence; but hereigned the dictator and tyrant of the world of literature. The realmerit of Warburton was degraded by the pride and presumption with whichhe pronounced his infallible decrees; in his polemic writings he lashedhis antagonists without mercy or moderation; and his servile flatterers, (see the base and malignant Essay on the Delicacy of Friendship, )exalting the master critic far above Aristotle and Longinus, assaultedevery modest dissenter who refused to consult the oracle, and to adorethe idol. In a land of liberty, such despotism must provoke a generalopposition, and the zeal of opposition is seldom candid or impartial. A late professor of Oxford, (Dr. Lowth, ) in a pointed and polishedepistle, (Aug. 31, 1765, ) defended himself, and attacked the Bishop;and, whatsoever might be the merits of an insignificant controversy, hisvictory was clearly established by the silent confusion of Warburtonand his slaves. I too, without any private offence, was ambitious ofbreaking a lance against the giant's shield; and in the beginning of theyear 1770, my Critical Observations on the Sixth Book of the AEneidwere sent, without my name, to the press. In this short Essay, my firstEnglish publication, I aimed my strokes against the person andthe hypothesis of Bishop Warburton. I proved, at least to my ownsatisfaction, that the ancient lawgivers did not invent the mysteries, and that AEneas was never invested with the office of lawgiver: thatthere is not any argument, any circumstance, which can melt a fable intoallegory, or remove the scene from the Lake Avernus to the Temple ofCeres: that such a wild supposition is equally injurious to the poet andthe man: that if Virgil was not initiated he could not, if he were, hewould not, reveal the secrets of the initiation: that the anathema ofHorace (vetabo qui Cereris sacrum vulgarit, &c. ) at once attests his ownignorance and the innocence of his friend. As the Bishop of Gloucesterand his party maintained a discreet silence, my critical disquisitionwas soon lost among the pamphlets of the day; but the public coldnesswas overbalanced to my feelings by the weighty approbation of the lastand best editor of Virgil, Professor Heyne of Gottingen, who acquiescesin my confutation, and styles the unknown author, doctus - - - etelegantissimus Britannus. But I cannot resist the temptation oftranscribing the favourable judgment of Mr. Hayley, himself a poet and ascholar "An intricate hypothesis, twisted into a long and laboured chainof quotation and argument, the Dissertation on the Sixth Book ofVirgil, remained some time unrefuted. - - - At length, a superior, butanonymous, critic arose, who, in one of the most judicious and spiritedessays that our nation has produced, on a point of classical literature, completely overturned this ill-founded edifice, and exposed thearrogance and futility of its assuming architect. " He even condescendsto justify an acrimony of style, which had been gently blamed by themore unbiassed German; "Paullo acrius quam velis - - -, perstrinxit. " ButI cannot forgive myself the contemptuous treatment of a span who, withall his faults, was entitled to my esteem; [Note: The Divine Legationof Moses is a monument, already crumbling in the dust, of the vigour andweakness of the human mind. If Warburton's new argument proved anything, it would be a demonstration against the legislator, who left his peoplewithout the knowledge of a future state. But some episodes of the work, on the Greek philosophy, the hieroglyphics of Egypt, &c. Are entitledto the praise of learning, imagination, and discernment. ] and I can lessforgive, in a personal attack, the cowardly concealment of my name andcharacter. 

In the fifteen years between my Essay on the Study of Literature andthe first volume of the Decline and Fall, (1761-1776, ) this criticism onWarburton, and some articles in the journal, were my sole publications. It is more especially incumbent on me to mark the employment, or toconfess the waste of time, from my travels to my father's death, aninterval in which I was not diverted by any professional duties from thelabours and pleasures of a studious life. 1. As soon as I was releasedfrom the fruitless task of the Swiss revolutions, (1768, ) I begangradually to advance from the wish to the hope, from the hope to thedesign, from the design to the execution, of my historical work, of whose limits and extent I had yet a very inadequate notion. TheClassics, as low as Tacitus, the younger Pliny, and Juvenal, were myold and familiar companions. I insensibly plunged into the ocean of theAugustan history; and in the descending series I investigated, withmy pen almost always in my hand, the original records, both Greek andLatin, from Dion Cassius to Ammianus Marcellinus, from the reign ofTrajan to the last age of the Western Caesars. The subsidiary rays ofmedals, and inscriptions of geography and chronology, were thrown ontheir proper objects; and I applied the collections of Tillemont, whoseinimitable accuracy almost assumes the character of genius, to fix andarrange within my reach the loose and scattered atoms of historicalinformation. Through the darkness of the middle ages I explored my wayin the Annals and Antiquities of Italy of the learned Muratori; anddiligently compared them with the parallel or transverse lines ofSigonius and Maffei, Baronius and Pagi, till I almost grasped the ruinsof Rome in the fourteenth century, without suspecting that this finalchapter must be attained by the labour of six quartos and twentyyears. Among the books which I purchased, the Theodocian Code, with thecommentary of James Godefroy, must be gratefully remembered. I used it(and much I used it) as a work of history, rather than of jurisprudence:but in every light it may be considered as a full and capaciousrepository of the political state of the empire in the fourth and fifthcenturies. As I believed, and as I still believe, that the propagationof the Gospel, and the triumph of the church, are inseparably connectedwith the decline of the Roman monarchy, I weighed the causes and effectsof the revolution, and contrasted the narratives and apologies of theChristians themselves, with the glances of candour or enmity whichthe Pagans have cast on the rising sects, The Jewish and Heathentestimonies, as they are collected and illustrated by Dr. Lardner, directed, without superseding, my search of the originals; and inan ample dissertation on the miraculous darkness of the passion, Iprivately withdrew my conclusions from the silence of an unbelievingage. I have assembled the preparatory studies, directly or indirectlyrelative to my history; but, in strict equity, they must be spreadbeyond this period of my life, over the two summers (1771 and 1772) thatelapsed between my father's death and my settlement in London. 2. In afree conversation with books and men, it would be endless to enumeratethe names and characters of all who are introduced to our acquaintance;but in this general acquaintance we may select the degrees of friendshipand esteem, according to the wise maxim, Multum legere potius quammulta. I reviewed, again and again, the immortal works of the French andEnglish, the Latin and Italian classics. My Greek studies (though lessassiduous than I designed) maintained and extended my knowledge of thatincomparable idiom. Homer and Xenophon were still my favourite authors;and I had almost prepared for the press an Essay on the Cyropoedia, which, in my own judgment, is not unhappily laboured. After a certainage, the new publications of merit are the sole food of the many; andthe must austere student will be often tempted to break the line, forthe sake of indulging his own curiosity, and of providing the topics offashionable currency. A more respectable motive maybe assigned for thethird perusal of Blackstone's Commentaries, and a copious and criticalabstract of that English work was my first serious production in mynative language. 3. My literary leisure was much less complete andindependent than it might appear to the eye of a stranger. In the hurryof London I was destitute of books; in the solitude of Hampshire I wasnot master of my time. My quiet was gradually disturbed by our domesticanxiety, and I should be ashamed of my unfeeling philosophy, had Ifound much time or taste for study in the last fatal summer (1770) of myfather's decay and dissolution. 

The disembodying of the militia at the close of the war (1763) hadrestored the Major (a new Cincinnatus) to a life of agriculture. Hislabours were useful, his pleasures innocent, his wishes moderate; andmy father seemed to enjoy the state of happiness which is celebrated bypoets and philosophers, as the most agreeable to nature, and the leastaccessible to fortune. 

 Beatus ille, qui procul negotiis (Ut prisca gens mortalium) Paterna rura bubus exercet suis, Solutus omni foenore. HOR. Epod. Ii. 

 Like the first mortals, blest is he, From debts, and usury, and business free, With his own team who ploughs the soil, Which grateful once confessed his father's toil. FRANCIS. 

But the last indispensable condition, the freedom from debt, was wantingto my father's felicity; and the vanities of his youth were severelypunished by the solicitude and sorrow of his declining age. The firstmortgage, on my return from Lausanne, (1758, ) had afforded him a partialand transient relief. The annual demand of interest and allowance wasa heavy deduction from his income; the militia was a source of expence, the farm in his hands was not a profitable adventure, he was loaded withthe costs and damages of an obsolete law-suit; and each year multipliedthe number, and exhausted the patience, of his creditors. Under thesepainful circumstances, I consented to an additional mortgage, tothe sale of Putney, and to every sacrifice that could alleviate hisdistress. But he was no longer capable of a rational effort, and hisreluctant delays postponed not the evils themselves, but the remedies ofthose evils (remedia malorum potius quam mala differebat). The pangs ofshame, tenderness, and self-reproach, incessantly preyed on his vitals;his constitution was broken; he lost his strength and his sight; therapid progress of a dropsy admonished him of his end, and he sunk intothe grave on Nov. 10, 1770, in the sixty-fourth year of his age. Afamily tradition insinuates that Mr. William Law had drawn his pupil inthe light and inconstant character of Flatus, who is ever confident, andever disappointed in the chace of happiness. But these constitutionalfailing were happily compensated by the virtues of the head and heart, by the warmest sentiments of honour and humanity. His graceful person, polite address, gentle manners, and unaffected cheerfulness, recommendedhim to the favour of every company; and in the change of times andopinions, his liberal spirit had long since delivered him from the zealand prejudice of a Tory education. I submitted to the order of Nature;and my grief was soothed by the conscious satisfaction that I haddischarged all the duties of filial piety. 

As soon as I had paid the last solemn duties to my father, and obtained, from time and reason, a tolerable composure of mind, I began to formthe plan of an independent life, most adapted to my circumstances andinclination. Yet so intricate was the net, my efforts were so awkwardand feeble, that nearly two years (Nov. 1770-Oct. 1772) were sufferedto elapse before I could disentangle myself from the management ofthe farm, and transfer my residence from Beriton to a house in London. During this interval I continued to divide my year between town and thecountry; but my new situation was brightened by hope; my stay in Londonwas prolonged into the summer; and the uniformity of the summer wasoccasionally broken by visits and excursions at a distance from home. The gratification of my desires (they were not immoderate) has beenseldom disappointed by the want of money or credit; my pride was neverinsulted by the visit of an importunate tradesman; and my transientanxiety for the past or future has been dispelled by the studious orsocial occupation of the present hour. My conscience does not accuse meof any act of extravagance or injustice, and the remnant of my estateaffords an ample and honourable provision for my declining age. I shallnot expatiate on my oeconomical affairs, which cannot be instructiveor amusing to the reader. It is a rule of prudence, as well as ofpoliteness, to reserve such confidence for the ear of a private friend, without exposing our situation to the envy or pity of strangers; forenvy is productive of hatred, and pity borders too nearly on contempt. Yet I may believe, and even assert, that in circumstances more indigentor more wealthy, I should never have accomplished the task, or acquiredthe fame, of an historian; that my spirit would have been broken bypoverty and contempt, and that my industry might have been relaxed inthe labour and luxury of a superfluous fortune. 

I had now attained the first of earthly blessings, independence: I wasthe absolute master of my hours and actions: nor was I deceived in thehope that the establishment of my library in town would allow me todivide the day between study and society. Each year the circle of myacquaintance, the number of my dead and living companions, was enlarged. To a lover of books, the shops and sales of London present irresistibletemptations; and the manufacture of my history required a variousand growing stock of materials. The militia, my travels, the House ofCommons, the fame of an author, contributed to multiply my connections:I was chosen a member of the fashionable clubs; and, before I leftEngland in 1783, there were few persons of any eminence in the literaryor political world to whom I was a stranger. [Note: From the mixed, though polite, company of Boodle's, White's, and Brooks's, I musthonourably distinguish a weekly society, which was instituted in theyear 1764, and which still continues to flourish, under the title of theLiterary Club. (Hawkins's Life of Johnson, p. 415. Boswell's Tour tothe Hebrides, p 97. ) The names of Dr. Johnson, Mr. Burke, Mr. TophamBeauclerc, Mr. Garrick, 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, &c. , form a large and luminous constellationof British stars. ] It would most assuredly be in my power to amuse thereader with a gallery of portraits and a collection of anecdotes. ButI have always condemned the practice of transforming a private memorialinto a vehicle of satire or praise. By my own choice I passed in townthe greatest part of the year; but whenever I was desirous ofbreathing the air of the country, I possessed an hospitable retreatat Sheffield-place in Sussex, in the family of my valuable friend Mr. Holroyd, whose character, under the name of Lord Sheffield, has sincebeen more conspicuous to the public. 

No sooner was I settled in my house and library, than I undertook thecomposition of the first volume of my History. At the outset all wasdark and doubtful; even the title of the work, the true aera of theDecline and Fall of the Empire, the limits of the introduction, thedivision of the chapters, and the order of the narrative; and I wasoften tempted to cast away the labour of seven years. The style of anauthor should be the image of his mind, but the choice and command oflanguage is the fruit of exercise. Many experiments were made beforeI could hit the middle tone between a dull chronicle and a rhetoricaldeclamation: three times did I compose the first chapter, and twice thesecond and third, before I was tolerably satisfied with their effect. Inthe remainder of the way I advanced with a more equal and easy pace;but the fifteenth and sixteenth chapters have been reduced by threesuccessive revisals, from a large volume to their present size; and theymight still be compressed, without any loss of facts or sentiments. Anopposite fault may be imputed to the concise and superficial narrativeof the first reigns from Commodus to Alexander; a fault of which I havenever heard, except from Mr. Hume in his last journey to London. Such anoracle might have been consulted and obeyed with rational devotion; butI was soon disgusted with the modest practice of reading the manuscriptto my friends. Of such friends some will praise from politeness, andsome will criticise from vanity. The author himself is the best judge ofhis own performance; no one has so deeply meditated on the subject; noone is so sincerely interested in the event. 

By the friendship of Mr. (now Lord) Eliot, who had married my firstcousin, I was returned at the general election for the borough ofLiskeard. I took my seat at the beginning of the memorable contestbetween Great Britain and America, and supported, with many a sincereand silent vote, the rights, though not, perhaps, the interest, of themother country. After a fleeting illusive hope, prudence condemned me toacquiesce in the humble station of a mute. I was not armed by Nature andeducation with the intrepid energy of mind and voice. 

 Vincentem strepitus, et natum rebus agendis. 

Timidity was fortified by pride, and even the success of my pendiscouraged the trial of my voice. But I assisted at the debates of afree assembly; I listened to the attack and defence of eloquence andreason; I had a near prospect of the characters, views, and passions ofthe first men of the age. The cause of government was ably vindicatedby Lord North, a statesman of spotless integrity, a consummate master ofdebate, who could wield, with equal dexterity, the arms of reason and ofridicule. He was seated on the Treasury-bench between his Attorney andSolicitor General, the two pillars of the law and state, magis paresquam similes; and the minister might indulge in a short slumber, whilsthe was upholden on either hand by the majestic sense of Thurlow, and theskilful eloquence of Wedderburne. From the adverse side of the house anardent and powerful opposition was supported, by the lively declamationof Barre, the legal acuteness of Dunning, the profuse and philosophicfancy of Burke, and the argumentative vehemence of Fox, who in theconduct of a party approved himself equal to the conduct of an empire. By such men every operation of peace and war, every principle of justiceor policy, every question of authority and freedom, was attacked anddefended; and the subject of the momentous contest was the union orseparation of Great Britain and America. The eight sessions that Isat in parliament were a school of civil prudence, the first and mostessential virtue of an historian. 

The volume of my History, which had been somewhat delayed by the noveltyand tumult of a first session, was now ready for the press. After theperilous adventure had been declined by my friend Mr. Elmsly, I agreed, upon easy terms, with Mr. Thomas Cadell, a respectable bookseller, andMr. William Strahan, an eminent printer; and they undertook the care andrisk of the publication, which derived more credit from the name of theshop than from that of the author. The last revisal of the proofs wassubmitted to my vigilance; and many blemishes of style, which hadbeen invisible in the manuscript, were discovered and corrected in theprinted sheet. So moderate were our hopes, that the original impressionhad been stinted to five hundred, till the number was doubled by theprophetic taste of Mr. Strahan. During this awful interval I was neitherelated by the ambition of fame, nor depressed by the apprehension ofcontempt. My diligence and accuracy were attested by my own conscience. History is the most popular species of writing, since it can adaptitself to the highest or the lowest capacity. I had chosen anillustrious subject. Rome is familiar to the school-boy and thestatesman; and my narrative was deduced from the last period ofclassical reading. I had likewise flattered myself, that an age of lightand liberty would receive, without scandal, an inquiry into the humancauses of the progress and establishment of Christianity. 

I am at a loss how to describe the success of the work, withoutbetraying the vanity of the writer. The first impression was exhaustedin a few days; a second and third edition were scarcely adequate to thedemand; and the bookseller's property was twice invaded by the piratesof Dublin. My book was on every table, and almost on every toilette; thehistorian was crowned by the taste or fashion of the day; nor was thegeneral voice disturbed by the barking of any profane critic. The favourof mankind is most freely bestowed on a new acquaintance of any originalmerit; and the mutual surprise of the public and their favourite isproductive of those warm sensibilities, which at a second meeting canno longer be rekindled. If I listened to the music of praise, I was moreseriously satisfied with the approbation of my judges. The candour ofDr. Robertson embraced his disciple. A letter from Mr. Hume overpaid thelabour of ten years, but I have never presumed to accept a place in thetriumvirate of British historians. 

That curious and original letter will amuse the reader, and hisgratitude should shield my free communication from the reproach ofvanity. 

"DEAR SIR, EDINBURGH, 18th March 1776. "As I ran through your volume ofhistory with great avidity and impatience, I cannot forbear discoveringsomewhat of the same impatience in returning you thanks for youragreeable present, and expressing the satisfaction which the performancehas given me. Whether I consider the dignity of your style, the depthof your matter, or the extensiveness of your learning, I must regardthe work as equally the object of esteem; and I own that if I had notpreviously had the happiness of your personal acquaintance, such aperformance from an Englishman in our age would have given me somesurprise. You may smile at this sentiment; but as it seems to me thatyour countrymen, for almost a whole generation, have given themselves upto barbarous and absurd faction, and have totally neglected all politeletters, I no longer expected any valuable production ever to come fromthem. I know it will give you pleasure (as it did me) to find that allthe men of letters in this place concur in the admiration of your work, and in their anxious desire of your continuing it. 

"When I heard of your undertaking, (which was some time ago, ) I own Iwas a little curious to see how you would extricate yourself from thesubject of your two last chapters. I think you have observed a veryprudent temperament; but it was impossible to treat the subject so asnot to give grounds of suspicion against you, and you may expect that aclamour will arise. This, if anything, will retard your success withthe public; for in every other respect your work is calculated tobe popular. But among many other marks of decline, the prevalence ofsuperstition in England prognosticates the fall of philosophy and decayof taste; and though nobody be more capable than you to revive them, youwill probably find a struggle in your first advances. 

"I see you entertain a great doubt with regard to the authenticity ofthe poems of Ossian. You are certainly right in so doing. It is indeedstrange that any men of sense could have imagined it possible, thatabove twenty thousand verses, along with numberless historical facts, could have been preserved by oral tradition during fifty generations, bythe rudest, perhaps, of all the European nations, the most necessitous, the most turbulent, and the most unsettled. Where a supposition is socontrary to common sense, any positive evidence of it ought never to beregarded. Men run with great avidity to give their evidence in favourof what flatters their passions and their national prejudices. You aretherefore over and above indulgent to us in speaking of the matter withhesitation. 

"I must inform you that we all are very anxious to hear that you havefully collected the materials for your second volume, and that you areeven considerably advanced in the composition of it. I speak this morein the name of my friends than in my own; as I cannot expect to live solong as to see the publication of it. Your ensuing volume will bemore delicate than the preceding, but I trust in your prudence forextricating you from the difficulties; and, in all events, you havecourage to despise the clamour of bigots. I am, with great regard, DearSir, &c. DAVID HUME. "

Some weeks afterwards I had the melancholy pleasure of seeing Mr. Humein his passage through London; his body feeble, his mind firm. OnAug. 25 of the same year (1776) he died, at Edinburgh, the death of aphilosopher. 

My second excursion to Paris was determined by the pressing invitationof M. And Madame Necker, who had visited England in the precedingsummer. On my arrival I found M. Necker Director-general of thefinances, in the first bloom of power and popularity. His privatefortune enabled him to support a liberal establishment, and his wife, whose talents and virtues I had long admired, was admirably qualifiedto preside in the conversation of her table and drawing-room. As theirfriend, I was introduced to the best company of both sexes; to theforeign ministers of all nations, and to the first names and charactersof France; who distinguished me by such marks of civility and kindness, as gratitude will not suffer me to forget, and modesty will not allowme to enumerate. The fashionable suppers often broke into the morninghours; yet I occasionally consulted the Royal Library, and that of theAbbey of St. Germain, and in the free use of their books at home Ihad always reason to praise the liberality of those institutions. Thesociety of men of letters I neither courted nor declined; but I washappy in the acquaintance of M. De Buffon, who united with a sublimegenius the most amiable simplicity of mind and manners. At the table ofmy old friend, M. De Foncemagne, I was involved in a dispute with theAbbe de Mably; and his jealous irascible spirit revenged itself on awork which he was incapable of reading in the original. 

As I might be partial in my own cause, I shall transcribe the words ofan unknown critic, observing only, that this dispute had been precededby another on the English constitution, at the house of the Countess deFroulay, an old Jansenist lady. 

"Vous etiez chez M. De Foncemagne, mon cher Theodon, le jour queM. L'Abbe de Mably et M. Gibbon y dinerent en grande compagnie. Laconversation roula presque entierement sur l'histoire. L'Abbe etantun profond politique, la tourna sur l'administration, quand on fut audesert: et comme par caractere, par humeur, par l'habitude d'admirerTite Live, il ne prise que le systeme republicain, il se mit a vanterl'excellence des republiques; bien persuade que le savant Angloisl'approuveroit en tout, et admireroit la profondeur de genie qui avoitfait deviner tous ces avantages a un Francois. Mais M. Gibbon, instruitpar l'experience des inconveniens d'un gouvernement populaire, nefut point du tout de son avis, et il prit genereusement la defense dugouvernement monarchique. L'Abbe voulut le convaincre par Tite Live, etpar quelques argumens tires de Plutarque en faveur des Spartiates. M. Gibbon, doue de la memoire la plus heureuse, et ayant tous les faitspresens a la pensee, domina bien-tot la conversation; I'Abbe se facha, il s'emporta, il dit des choses dures; l'Anglois, conservant le phlegmede son pays, prenoit ses avantages, et pressoit l'Abbe avec d'autantplus de succes que la colere le troubloit de plus en plus. Laconversation s'echauffoit, et M. De Foncemagne la rompit en se levantde table, et en passant dans le salon, ou personne ne fut tente de larenouer. "-- Supplement de la Maniere d'ecrire l'Histoire, p. 125, &c. [Note: Of the voluminous writings of the Abbe de Mably, (see his Elogeby the Abbe Brizard, ) the Principes du droit public de l'Europe, andthe first part of the Observ. Sur l'Hist. De France, may be deservedlypraised; and even the Maniere d'ecrire l'Hist. Contains several usefulprecepts and judicious remarks. Mably was a lover of virtue and freedom;but his virtue was austere, and his freedom was impatient of an equal. Kings, magistrates, nobles, and successful writers were the objects ofhis contempt, or hatred, or envy; but his illiberal abuse of Voltaire, Hume, Buffon, the Abbe Reynal, Dr. Robertson, and tutti quanti can beinjurious only to himself. ]

Nearly two years had elapsed between the publication of my first andthe commencement of my second volume; and the causes must be assignedof this long delay. 1. After a short holiday, I indulged my curiosity insome studies of a very different nature, a course of anatomy, which wasdemonstrated by Doctor Hunter; and some lessons of chymistry, which weredelivered by Mr. Higgins. The principles of these sciences, and a tastefor books of natural history, contributed to multiply my ideas andimages; and the anatomist and chymist may sometimes track me in theirown snow. 2. I dived, perhaps too deeply, into the mud of the Ariancontroversy; and many days of reading, thinking, and writing wereconsumed in the pursuit of a phantom. 3. It is difficult to arrange, with order and perspicuity, the various transactions of the age ofConstantine; and so much was I displeased with the first essay, that Icommitted to the flames above fifty sheets. 4. The six months of Parisand pleasure must be deducted from the account. But when I resumed mytask I felt my improvement; I was now master of my style and subject, and while the measure of my daily performance was enlarged, I discoveredless reason to cancel or correct. It has always been my practice to casta long paragraph in a single mould, to try it by my ear, to deposit itin my memory, but to suspend the action of the pen till I had given thelast polish to my work. Shall I add, that I never found my mind morevigorous, not my composition more happy, than in the winter hurry ofsociety and parliament?

Had I believed that the majority of English readers were so fondlyattached even to the name and shadow of Christianity; had I foreseenthat the pious, the timid, and the prudent, would feel, or affect tofeel, with such exquisite sensibility; I might, perhaps, have softenedthe two invidious chapters, which would create many enemies, andconciliate few friends. But the shaft was shot, the alarm was sounded, and I could only rejoice, that if the voice of our priests was clamorousand bitter, their hands were disarmed from the powers of persecution. Iadhered to the wise resolution of trusting myself and my writings to thecandour of the public, till Mr. Davies of Oxford presumed to attack, not the faith, but the fidelity, of the historian. My Vindication, expressive of less anger than contempt, amused for a moment the busy andidle metropolis; and the most rational part of the laity, and even ofthe clergy, appear to have been satisfied of my innocence and accuracy. I would not print this Vindication in quarto, lest it should be boundand preserved with the history itself. At the distance of twelve years, I calmly affirm my judgment of Davies, Chelsum, &c. A victory over suchantagonists was a sufficient humiliation. They, however, were rewardedin this world. Poor Chelsum was indeed neglected; and I dare not boastthe making Dr. Watson a bishop; he is a prelate of a large mind andliberal spirit: but I enjoyed the pleasure of giving a Royal pension toMr. Davies, and of collating Dr. Apthorpe to an archiepiscopal living. Their success encouraged the zeal of Taylor the Arian, [Note: Thestupendous title, Thoughts on the Causes of the grand Apostacy, at firstagitated my nerves, till I discovered that it was the apostacy of thewhole church, since the Council of Nice, from Mr. Taylor's privatereligion. His book is a thorough mixture of high enthusiasm and lowbuffoonery, and the Millennium is a fundamental article of his creed. ]and Milner the Methodist, [Note: From his grammar-school at Kingstonupon Hull, Mr. Joseph Milner pronounces an anathema against all rationalreligion. His faith is a divine taste, a spiritual inspiration; hischurch is a mystic and invisible body: the natural Christians, suchas Mr. Locke, who believe and interpret the Scriptures, are, in hisjudgment, no better than profane infidels. ] with many others, whom itwould be difficult to remember, and tedious to rehearse. The list of myadversaries, however, was graced with the more respectable names of Dr. Priestley, Sir David Dalrymple, and Dr. White; and every polemic, of either university, discharged his sermon or pamphlet against theimpenetrable silence of the Roman historian. In his History of theCorruptions of Christianity, Dr. Priestley threw down his two gauntletsto Bishop Hurd and Mr. Gibbon. I declined the challenge in a letter, exhorting my opponent to enlighten the world by his philosophicaldiscoveries, and to remember that the merit of his predecessor Servetusis now reduced to a single passage, which indicates the smallercirculation of the blood through the lungs, from and to the heart. Instead of listening to this friendly advice, the dauntless philosopherof Birmingham continued to fire away his double battery against thosewho believed too little, and those who believed too much. From myreplies he has nothing to hope or fear: but his Socinian shield hasrepeatedly been pierced by the spear of Horsley, and his trumpet ofsedition may at length awaken the magistrates of a free country. Theprofession and rank of Sir David Dalrymple (now a Lord of Session)has given a more decent colour to his style. But he scrutinized eachseparate passage of the two chapters with the dry minuteness of aspecial pleader; and as he was always solicitous to make, he may havesucceeded sometimes in finding, a flaw. In his Annals of Scotland, hehas shewn himself a diligent collector and an accurate critic. I havepraised, and I still praise, the eloquent sermons which were preached inSt. Mary's pulpit at Oxford by Dr. White. If he assaulted me withsome degree of illiberal acrimony, in such a place, and before such anaudience, he was obliged to speak the language of the country. I smiledat a passage in one of his private letters to Mr. Badcock; "The partwhere we encounter Gibbon must be brilliant and striking. " In a sermonpreached before the university of Cambridge, Dr. Edwards complimented awork, "which can only perish with the language itself;" and esteems theauthor a formidable enemy. He is, indeed, astonished that more learningand ingenuity has not been shewn in the defence of Israel; that theprelates and dignitaries of the church (alas, good man!) did not viewith each other, whose stone should sink the deepest in the forehead ofthis Goliath. 

"But the force of truth will oblige us to confess, that in the attackswhich have been levelled against our sceptical historian, we candiscover but slender traces of profound and exquisite erudition, ofsolid criticism and accurate investigation; but we are too frequentlydisgusted by vague and inconclusive reasoning; by unseasonable banterand senseless witticisms; by imbittered bigotry and enthusiastic jargon;by futile cavils and illiberal invectives. Proud and elated by theweakness of his antagonists, he condescends not to handle the sword ofcontroversy. "--Monthly Review, Oct. 1790. 

Let me frankly own that I was startled at the first discharge ofecclesiastical ordnance; but as soon as I found that this empty noisewas mischievous only in the intention, my fear was converted intoindignation; and every feeling of indignation or curiosity has longsince subsided in pure and placid indifference. 

The prosecution of my history was soon afterwards checked by anothercontroversy of a very different kind. At the request of the LordChancellor, and of Lord Weymouth, then Secretary of State, I vindicated, against the French manifesto, the justice of the British arms. Thewhole correspondence of Lord Stormont, our late ambassador at Paris, was submitted to my inspection, and the Memoire Justificatif, which Icomposed in French, was first approved by the Cabinet Ministers, andthen delivered as a State paper to the courts of Europe. The style andmanner are praised by Beaumarchais himself, who, in his private quarrel, attempted a reply; but he flatters me, by ascribing the memoir to LordStormont; and the grossness of his invective betrays the loss of temperand of wit; he acknowledged, Oeuv. De Beaumarchais, iii. 299, 355, thatle style ne seroit pas sans grace, ni la logique sans justesse, &c. Ifthe facts were true which he undertakes to disprove. For these factsmy credit is not pledged; I spoke as a lawyer from my brief, but theveracity of Beaumarchais may be estimated from the assertion thatFrance, by the treaty of Paris (1763) was limited to a certain number ofships of war. On the application of the Duke of Choiseul, he was obligedto retract this daring falsehood. 

Among the honourable connections which I had formed, I may justlybe proud of the friendship of Mr. Wedderburne, at that timeAttorney-General, who now illustrates the title of Lord Loughborough, and the office of Chief Justice of the Common Pleas. By his strongrecommendation, and the favourable disposition of Lord North, I wasappointed one of the Lords Commissioners of Trade and Plantations; andmy private income was enlarged by a clear addition of between seven andeight hundred pounds a-year. The fancy of an hostile orator may paint, in the strong colours of ridicule, "the perpetual virtual adjournment, and the unbroken sitting vacation of the Board of Trade. " [Note: I cannever forget the delight with which that diffusive and ingenious orator, Mr. Burke, was heard by all sides of the house, and even by those whoseexistence he proscribed. (Speech on the Bill of Reform, p. 72-80. ) TheLords of Trade blushed at their insignificancy, and Mr. Eden's appeal tothe 2, 500 volumes of our Reports, served only to excite a general laugh. I take this opportunity of certifying the correctness of Mr. Burke'sprinted speeches, which I have heard and read. ] But it must be allowedthat our duty was not intolerably severe, and that I enjoyed many daysand weeks of repose, without being called away from my library tothe office. My acceptance of a place provoked some of the leaders ofopposition, with whom I had lived in habits of intimacy; and I was mostunjustly accused of deserting a party, in which I had never enlisted. 

The aspect of the next session of parliament was stormy and perilous;county meetings, petitions, and committees of correspondence, announcedthe public discontent; and instead of voting with a triumphant majority, the friends of government were often exposed to a struggle, andsometimes to a defeat. The House of Commons adopted Mr. Dunning'smotion, "That the influence of the Crown had increased, was increasing, and ought to be diminished:" and Mr. Burke's bill of reform was framedwith skill, introduced with eloquence, and supported by numbers. Ourlate president, the American Secretary of State, very narrowly escapedthe sentence of proscription; but the unfortunate Board of Trade wasabolished in the committee by a small majority (207 to 199) of eightvotes. The storm, however, blew over for a time; a large defection ofcountry gentlemen eluded the sanguine hopes of the patriots: the Lordsof Trade were revived; administration recovered their strength andspirit; and the flames of London, which were kindled by a mischievousmadman, admonished all thinking men of the danger of an appeal to thepeople. In the premature dissolution which followed this session ofparliament I lost my seat. Mr. Elliot was now deeply engaged in themeasures of opposition, and the electors of Leskeard are commonly of thesame opinion as Mr. Elliot. 

In this interval of my senatorial life, I published the second andthird volumes of the Decline and Fall. My ecclesiastical historystill breathed the same spirit of freedom; but protestant zeal is moreindifferent to the characters and controversies of the fourth and fifthcenturies. My obstinate silence had damped the ardour of the polemics. Dr. Watson, the most candid of my adversaries, assured me that he had nothoughts of renewing the attack, and my impartial balance of the virtuesand vices of Julian was generally praised. This truce was interruptedonly by some animadversions of the Catholics of Italy, and by someangry letters from Mr. Travis, who made me personally responsiblefor condemning, with the best critics, the spurious text of the threeheavenly witnesses. 

The piety or prudence of my Italian translator has provided an antidoteagainst the poison of his original. The 5th and 7th volumes are armedwith five letters from an anonymous divine to his friends, Footheadand Kirk, two English students at Rome: and this meritorious serviceis commended by Monsignor Stoner, a prelate of the same nation, whodiscovers much venom in the fluid and nervous style of Gibbon. Thecritical essay at the end of the third volume was furnished by theAbbate Nicola Spedalieri, whose zeal has gradually swelled to a moresolid confutation in two quarto volumes. --Shall I be excused for nothaving read them?

The brutal insolence of Mr. Travis's challenge can only be excused bythe absence of learning, judgment, and humanity; and to that excuse behas the fairest or foulest pretension. Compared with Archdeacon Travis, Chelsum and Davies assume the title of respectable enemies. 

The bigoted advocate of popes and monks may be turned over even to thebigots of Oxford; and the wretched Travis still smarts under the lashof the merciless Porson. I consider Mr. Porson's answer to ArchdeaconTravis as the most acute and accurate piece of criticism which hasappeared since the days of Bentley. His strictures are founded inargument, enriched with learning, and enlivened with wit; and hisadversary neither deserves nor finds any quarter at his hands. Theevidence of the three heavenly witnesses would now be rejected in anycourt of justice: but prejudice is blind, authority is deaf, and ourvulgar bibles will ever be polluted by this spurious text, "sedetaeternumqne sedebit. " The more learned ecclesiastics will indeed havethe secret satisfaction of reprobating in the closet what they read inthe church. 

I perceived, and without surprise, the coldness and even prejudice ofthe town; nor could a whisper escape my ear, that, in the judgmentof many readers, my continuation was much inferior to the originalattempts. An author who cannot ascend will always appear to sink; envywas now prepared for my reception, and the zeal of my religious, wasfortified by the motive of my political, enemies. Bishop Newton, inwriting his own life, was at full liberty to declare how much hehimself and two eminent brethren were disgusted by Mr. G. 's prolixity, tediousness, and affectation. But the old man should not have indulgedhis zeal in a false and feeble charge against the historian, who hadfaithfully and even cautiously rendered Dr. Burnet's meaning by thealternative of sleep or repose. That philosophic divine supposes, that, in the period between death and the resurrection, human souls existwithout a body, endowed with internal consciousness, but destitute ofall active or passive connection with the external world. "Secundumcommunem dictionem sacrae scripturae, mors dicitur somnus, et morientesdicuntur abdormire, quod innuere mihi videtur statum mortis esse statumquietis, silentii, et {Greek expression}. " (De Statu Mortuorum, ch. V. P. 98. )

I was however encouraged by some domestic and foreign testimonies ofapplause; and the second and third volumes insensibly rose in sale andreputation to a level with the first. But the public is seldom wrong;and I am inclined to believe that, especially in the beginning, theyare more prolix and less entertaining than the first: my efforts hadnot been relaxed by success, and I had rather deviated into the oppositefault of minute and superfluous diligence. On the Continent, my name andwritings were slowly diffused; a French translation of the first volumehad disappointed the booksellers of Paris; and a passage in the thirdwas construed as a personal reflection on the reigning monarch. [Note:It may not be generally known that Louis XVI. Is a great reader, and areader of English books. On perusing a passage of my History which seemsto compare him to Arcadius or Honorius, he expressed his resentment tothe Prince of B------, from whom the intelligence was conveyed to me. Ishall neither disclaim the allusion, nor examine the likeness; but thesituation of the late King of France excludes all suspicion of flattery;and I am ready to declare that the concluding observations of my thirdvolume were written before his accession to the throne. ]

Before I could apply for a seat at the general election the list wasalready full; but Lord North's promise was sincere, his recommendationwas effectual, and I was soon chosen on a vacancy for the borough ofLymington, in Hampshire. In the first session of the new parliament, administration stood their ground; their final overthrow was reservedfor the second. The American war had once been the favourite of thecountry: the pride of England was irritated by the resistance of hercolonies, and the executive power was driven by national clamour intothe most vigorous and coercive measures. But the length of a fruitlesscontest, the loss of armies, the accumulation of debt and taxes, and thehostile confederacy of France, Spain, and Holland, indisposed the publicto the American war, and the persons by whom it was conducted; therepresentatives of the people, followed, at a slow distance, the changesof their opinion; and the ministers who refused to bend, were brokenby the tempest. As soon as Lord North had lost, or was about to lose, amajority in the House of Commons, he surrendered his office, and retiredto a private station, with the tranquil assurance of a clear conscienceand a cheerful temper: the old fabric was dissolved, and the postsof government were occupied by the victorious and veteran troops ofopposition. The lords of trade were not immediately dismissed, butthe board itself was abolished by Mr. Burke's bill, which decency hadcompelled the patriots to revive; and I was stripped of a convenientsalary, after having enjoyed it about three years. 

So flexible is the title of my History, that the final aera might befixed at my own choice; and I long hesitated whether I should be contentwith the three volumes, the fall of the Western empire, which fulfilledmy first engagement with the public. In this interval of suspense, nearly a twelvemonth, I returned by a natural impulse to the Greekauthors of antiquity; I read with new pleasure the Iliad and theOdyssey, the Histories of Herodotus, Thucydides, and Xenophon, a largeportion of the tragic and comic theatre of Athens, and many interestingdialogues of the Socratic school. Yet in the luxury of freedom I beganto wish for the daily task, the active pursuit, which gave a value toevery book, and an object to every inquiry; the preface of a new editionannounced my design, and I dropped without reluctance from the age ofPlato to that of Justinian. The original texts of Procopius andAgathias supplied the events and even the characters of his reign: but alaborious winter was devoted to the Codes, the Pandects, and the moderninterpreters, before I presumed to form an abstract of the civil law. My skill was improved by practice, my diligence perhaps was quickened bythe loss of office; and, excepting the last chapter, I had finished thefourth volume before I sought a retreat on the banks of the Leman Lake. 

It is not the purpose of this narrative to expatiate on the public orsecret history of the times: the schism which followed the death of theMarquis of Rockingham, the appointment of the Earl of Shelburne, theresignation of Mr. Fox, and his famous coalition with Lord North. ButI may assert, with some degree of assurance, that in their politicalconflict those great antagonists had never felt any personal animosityto each other, that their reconciliation was easy and sincere, and thattheir friendship has never been clouded by the shadow of suspicionor jealousy. The most violent or venal of their respective followersembraced this fair occasion of revolt, but their alliance stillcommanded a majority in the House of Commons; the peace was censured, Lord Shelburne resigned, and the two friends knelt on the same cushionto take the oath of secretary of state. From a principle of gratitude Iadhered to the coalition: my vote was counted in the day of battle, butI was overlooked in the division of the spoil. There were many claimantsmore deserving and importunate than myself: the board of trade could notbe restored; and, while the list of places was curtailed, the number ofcandidates was doubled. An easy dismission to a secure seat at the boardof customs or excise was promised on the first vacancy: but the chancewas distant and doubtful; nor could I solicit with much ardour anignoble servitude, which would have robbed me of the most valuable ofmy studious hours: at the same time the tumult of London, and theattendance on parliament, were grown more irksome; and, without someadditional income, I could not long or prudently maintain the style ofexpence to which I was accustomed. 

From my early acquaintance with Lausanne I had always cherished asecret wish, that the school of my youth might become the retreat of mydeclining age. A moderate fortune would secure the blessings of ease, leisure, and independence: the country, the people, the manners, thelanguage, were congenial to my taste; and I might indulge the hope ofpassing some years in the domestic society of a friend. After travellingwith several English, Mr. Deyverdun was now settled at home, in apleasant habitation, the gift of his deceased aunt: we had long beenseparated, we had long been silent; yet in my first letter I exposed, with the most perfect confidence, my situation, my sentiments, and mydesigns. His immediate answer was a warm and joyful acceptance: thepicture of our future life provoked my impatience; and the terms ofarrangement were short and simple, as he possessed the property, andI undertook the expence of our common house. Before I could break myEnglish chain, it was incumbent on me to struggle with the feelingsof my heart, the indolence of my temper, and the opinion of the world, which unanimously condemned this voluntary banishment. In the disposalof my effects, the library, a sacred deposit, was alone excepted: as mypost-chaise moved over Westminster-bridge I bid a long farewell tothe "fumum et opes strepitumque Romae. " My journey by the direct roadthrough France was not attended with any accident, and I arrived atLausanne nearly twenty years after my second departure. Within less thanthree months the coalition struck on some hidden rocks: had I remainedon board, I should have perished in the general shipwreck. 

Since my establishment at Lausanne, more than seven years have elapsed;and if every day has not been equally soft and serene, not a day, nota moment, has occurred in which I have repented of my choice. Duringmy absence, a long portion of human life, many changes had happened:my elder acquaintance had left the stage; virgins were ripened intomatrons, and children were grown to the age of manhood. But the samemanners were transmitted from one generation to another: my friend alonewas an inestimable treasure; my name was not totally forgotten, and allwere ambitious to welcome the arrival of a stranger and the return of afellow-citizen. The first winter was given to a general embrace, withoutany nice discrimination of persons and characters. After a more regularsettlement, a more accurate survey, I discovered three solid andpermanent benefits of my new situation. 1. My personal freedom had beensomewhat impaired by the House of Commons and the Board of Trade; but Iwas now delivered from the chain of duty and dependence, from thehopes and fears of political adventure: my sober mind was no longerintoxicated by the fumes of party, and I rejoiced in my escape, as oftenas I read of the midnight debates which preceded the dissolution ofparliament. 2. My English oeconomy had been that of a solitary bachelor, who might afford some occasional dinners. In Switzerland I enjoyed atevery meal, at every hour, the free and pleasant conversation of thefriend of my youth; and my daily table was always provided for thereception of one or two extraordinary guests. Our importance in societyis less a positive than a relative weight: in London I was lost in thecrowd; I ranked with the first families of Lausanne, and my style ofprudent expence enabled me to maintain a fair balance of reciprocalcivilities. 3. Instead of a small house between a street and astable-yard, I began to occupy a spacious and convenient mansion, connected on the north side with the city, and open on the south to abeautiful and boundless horizon. A garden of four acres had been laidout by the taste of Mr. Deyverdun: from the garden a rich scenery ofmeadows and vineyards descends to the Leman Lake, and the prospect farbeyond the Lake is crowned by the stupendous mountains of Savoy. Mybooks and my acquaintance had been first united in London; but thishappy position of my library in town and country was finally reservedfor Lausanne. Possessed of every comfort in this triple alliance, Icould not be tempted to change my habitation with the changes of theseasons. 

My friends had been kindly apprehensive that I should not be able toexist in a Swiss town at the foot of the Alps, after having so longconversed with the first men of the first cities of the world. Suchlofty connections may attract the curious, and gratify the vain; butI am too modest, or too proud, to rate my own value by that of myassociates; and whatsoever may be the fame of learning or genius, experience has shown the that the cheaper qualifications of politenessand good sense are of more useful currency in the commerce of life. Bymany, conversation is esteemed as a theatre or a school: but, afterthe morning has been occupied by the labours of the library, I wish tounbend rather than to exercise my mind; and in the interval between teaand supper I am far from disdaining the innocent amusement of a gameat cards. Lausanne is peopled by a numerous gentry, whose companionableidleness is seldom disturbed by the pursuits of avarice or ambition: thewomen, though confined to a domestic education, are endowed for the mostpart with more taste and knowledge than their husbands and brothers: butthe decent freedom of both sexes is equally remote from the extremesof simplicity and refinement. I shall add as a misfortune rather thana merit, that the situation and beauty of the Pays de Vaud, the longhabits of the English, the medical reputation of Dr. Tissot, and thefashion of viewing the mountains and Glaciers, have opened us on allsides to the incursions of foreigners. The visits of Mr. And MadameNecker, of Prince Henry of Prussia, and of Mr. Fox, may form somepleasing exceptions; but, in general, Lausanne has appeared mostagreeable in my eyes, when we have been abandoned to our own society. I had frequently seen Mr. Necker, in the summer of 1784, at acountry house near Lausanne, where he composed his Treatise on theAdministration of the Finances. I have since, in October 1790, visitedhim in his present residence, the castle and barony of Copet, nearGeneva. Of the merits and measures of that statesman various opinionsmay be entertained; but all impartial men must agree in their esteem ofhis integrity and patriotism. 

In August 1784, Prince Henry of Prussia, in his way to Paris, passedthree days at Lausanne. His military conduct has been praised byprofessional men; his character has been vilified by the wit and maliceof a daemon (Mem. Secret de la Cour de Berlin); but I was flattered byhis affability, and entertained by his conversation. 

In his tour of Switzerland (Sept. 1788) Mr. Fox gave me two days of freeand private society. He seemed to feel, and even to envy, the happinessof my situation; while I admired the powers of a superior man, as theyare blended in his attractive character with the softness and simplicityof a child. Perhaps no human being was ever more perfectly exempt fromthe taint of malevolence, vanity, or falsehood. 

My transmigration from London to Lausanne could not be effected withoutinterrupting the course of my historical labours. The hurry of mydeparture, the joy of my arrival, the delay of my tools, suspended theirprogress; and a full twelvemonth was lost before I could resume thethread of regular and daily industry. A number of books most requisiteand least common had been previously selected; the academical libraryof Lausanne, which I could use as my own, contained at least the fathersand councils; and I have derived some occasional succour from the publiccollections of Berne and Geneva. The fourth volume was soon terminated, by an abstract of the controversies of the Incarnation, which thelearned Dr. Prideaux was apprehensive of exposing to profane eyes. Ithad been the original design of the learned Dean Prideaux to write thehistory of the ruin of the Eastern Church. In this work it would havebeen necessary, not only to unravel all those controversies which theChristians made about the hypostatical union, but also to unfold all theniceties and subtle notions which each sect entertained concerning it. The pious historian was apprehensive of exposing that incomprehensiblemystery to the cavils and objections of unbelievers: and he durst not, "seeing the nature of this book, venture it abroad in so wanton and lewdan age" (Preface to the Life of Mahomet, p. 10). 

In the fifth and sixth volumes the revolutions of the empire and theworld are most rapid, various, and instructive; and the Greek or Romanhistorians are checked by the hostile narratives of the barbarians ofthe East and the West. [Note: I have followed the judicious precept ofthe Abbe de Mably, (Maniere d'ecrire l'Hist. , p. 110, ) who advises thehistorian not to dwell too minutely on the decay of the eastern empire;but to consider the barbarian conquerors as a more worthy subject of hisnarrative. "Fas est et ab hoste doceri. "]

It was not till after many designs, and many trials, that I preferred, as I still prefer, the method of grouping my picture by nations; andthe seeming neglect of chronological order is surely compensated bythe superior merits of interest and perspicuity. The style of the firstvolume is, in my opinion, somewhat crude and elaborate; in the secondand third it is ripened into ease, correctness, and numbers; but in thethree last I may have been seduced by the facility of my pen, and theconstant habit of speaking one language and writing another may haveinfused some mixture of Gallic idioms. Happily for my eyes, I havealways closed my studies with the day, and commonly with the morning;and a long, but temperate, labour has been accomplished, withoutfatiguing either the mind or body; but when I computed the remainder ofmy time and my task, it was apparent that, according to the season ofpublication, the delay of a month would be productive of that of a year. I was now straining for the goal, and in the last winter many eveningswere borrowed from the social pleasures of Lausanne. I could now wishthat a pause, an interval, had been allowed for a serious revisal. 

I have presumed to mark the moment of conception: I shall nowcommemorate the hour of my final deliverance. It was on the day, orrather night, of the 27th of June, 1787, between the hours of eleven andtwelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page, in a summerhouse in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns ina berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of thecountry, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky wasserene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, andall nature was silent. I will not dissemble the first emotions of joy onthe recovery of my freedom, and, perhaps, the establishment of my fame. But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy was spread overmy mind, by the idea that I had taken an everlasting leave of an old andagreeable companion, and that whatsoever might be the future fate of myHistory, the life of the historian must be short and precarious. I willadd two facts, which have seldom occurred in the composition of six, or at least of five quartos. 1. My first rough manuscript, without anyintermediate copy, has been sent to the press. 2. Not a sheet has beenseen by any human eyes, excepting those of the author and the printer:the faults and the merits are exclusively my own. 

I cannot help recollecting a much more extraordinary fact, which isaffirmed of himself by Retif de la Bretorme, a voluminous and originalwriter of French novels. He laboured, and may still labour, in thehumble office of corrector to a printing-house; but this office enabledhim to transport an entire volume from his mind to the press; and hiswork was given to the public without ever having been written with apen. 

After a quiet residence of four years, during which I had never movedten miles from Lausanne, it was not without some reluctance and terror, that I undertook, in a journey of two hundred leagues, to cross themountains and the sea. Yet this formidable adventure was achievedwithout danger or fatigue; and at the end of a fortnight I found myselfin Lord Sheffield's house and library, safe, happy, and at home. Thecharacter of my friend (Mr. Holroyd) had recommended him to a seat inparliament for Coventry, the command of a regiment of light dragoons, and an Irish peerage. The sense and spirit of his political writingshave decided the public opinion on the great questions of our commercialinterest with America and Ireland. 

The sale of his Observations on the American States was diffusive, theireffect beneficial; the Navigation Act, the palladium of Britain, wasdefended, and perhaps saved, by his pen; and he proves, by the weightof fact and argument, that the mother-country may survive and flourishafter the loss of America. My friend has never cultivated the arts ofcomposition; but his materials are copious and correct, and he leaveson his paper the clear impression of an active and vigorous mind. His"Observations on the Trade, Manufactures, and present State of Ireland, "were intended to guide the industry, to correct the prejudices, and toassuage the passions of a country which seemed to forget that she couldbe free and prosperous only by a friendly connection with Great Britain. The concluding observations are written with so much ease and spirit, that they may be read by those who are the least interested in thesubject. 

He fell (in 1784) with the unpopular coalition; but his merit has beenacknowledged at the last general election, 1790, by the honourableinvitation and free choice of the city of Bristol. During the whole timeof my residence in England I was entertained at Sheffield-Place and inDowning-Street by his hospitable kindness; and the most pleasant periodwas that which I passed in the domestic society of the family. Inthe larger circle of the metropolis I observed the country and theinhabitants with the knowledge, and without the prejudices, of anEnglishman; but I rejoiced in the apparent increase of wealth andprosperity, which might be fairly divided between the spirit of thenation and the wisdom of the minister. All party-resentment was now lostin oblivion: since I was no man's rival, no man was my enemy. I felt thedignity of independence, and as I asked no more, I was satisfiedwith the general civilities of the world. The house in London whichI frequented with most pleasure and assiduity was that of Lord North. After the loss of power and of sight, he was still happy in himselfand his friends; and my public tribute of gratitude and esteem could nolonger be suspected of any interested motive. Before my departure fromEngland, I was present at the august spectacle of Mr. Hastings's trialin Westminster Hall. It is not my province to absolve or condemn theGovernor of India; but Mr. Sheridan's eloquence demanded my applause;nor could I hear without emotion the personal compliment which he paidme in the presence of the British nation. 

From this display of genius, which blazed four successive days, Ishall stoop to a very mechanical circumstance. As I was waiting in themanagers' box, I had the curiosity to inquire of the short-hand writer, how many words a ready and rapid orator might pronounce in an hour? From7000 to 7500 was his answer. The medium of 7200 will afford 120 words ina minute, and two words in each second. But this computation will onlyapply to the English language. 

As the publication of my three last volumes was the principal object, soit was the first care of my English journey. The previous arrangementswith the bookseller and the printer were settled in my passage throughLondon, and the proofs, which I returned more correct, were transmittedevery post from the press to Sheffield-Place. The length of theoperation, and the leisure of the country, allowed some time to reviewmy manuscript. Several rare and useful books, the Assises de Jerusalem, Ramusius de Bello Constantinopolitano, the Greek Acts of the Synod ofFlorence, the Statuta Urbis Romae, &c. Were procured, and introduced intheir proper places the supplements which they afforded. The impressionof the fourth volume had consumed three months. Our common interestrequired that we should move with a quicker pace; and Mr. Strahanfulfilled his engagement, which few printers could sustain, ofdelivering every week three thousand copies of nine sheets. The dayof publication was, however, delayed, that it might coincide with thefifty-first anniversary of my own birthday; the double festival wascelebrated by a cheerful literary dinner at Mr. Cadell's house; and Iseemed to blush while they read an elegant compliment from Mr. Hayley, whose poetical talents had more than once been employed in the praiseof his friend. Before Mr. Hayley inscribed with my name his epistles onhistory, I was not acquainted with that amiable man and elegant poet. Heafterwards thanked me in verse for my second and third volumes; andin the summer of 1781, the Roman Eagle, (a proud title) accepted theinvitation of the English Sparrow, who chirped in the groves of Eartham, near Chichester. As most of the former purchasers were naturallydesirous of completing their sets, the sale of the quarto edition wasquick and easy; and an octavo size was printed, to satisfy at a cheaperrate the public demand. The conclusion of my work was generally read, and variously judged. The style has been exposed to much academicalcriticism; a religious clamour was revived, and the reproach ofindecency has been loudly echoed by the rigid censors of morals. I nevercould understand the clamour that has been raised against the indecencyof my three last volumes. 1. An equal degree of freedom in the formerpart, especially in the first volume, had passed without reproach. 2. Iam justified in painting the manners of the times; the vices of Theodoraform an essential feature in the reign and character of Justinian. 3. My English text is chaste, and all licentious passages are left inthe obscurity of a learned language. Le Latin dans ses mots bravel'honnetete, says the correct Boileau, in a country and idiom morescrupulous than our own. Yet, upon the whole, the History of the Declineand Fall seems to have struck root, both at home and abroad, and may, perhaps, a hundred years hence still continue to be abused. I am lessflattered by Mr. Porson's high encomium on the style and spirit ofmy history, than I am satisfied with his honourable testimony tomy attention, diligence, and accuracy; those humble virtues, whichreligious zeal had most audaciously denied. The sweetness of his praiseis tempered by a reasonable mixture of acid. As the book may notbe common in England, I shall transcribe my own character from theBibliotheca Historica of Meuselius, a learned and laborious German. "Summis aevi nostri historicis Gibbonus sine dubio adnumerandus est. Inter capitolii ruinas stans primum hujus operis scribendi conciliumcepit. Florentissimos vitae annos colligendo et laborando eidemimpendit. Enatum inde monumentum aere perennius, licet passim appareantsinistre dicta, minus perfecta, veritati non satis consentanea. Videmusquidem ubique fere studium scrutandi veritatemque scribendi maximum:tamen sine Tillemontio duce ubi scilicet hujus historia finitur saepiusnoster titubat atque hallucinatur. Quod vel maxime fit ubi de rebusEcclesiasticis vel de juris prudentia Romana (tom. Iv. ) tradit, et inaliis locis. Attamen naevi hujus generis haud impediunt quo minus operissummam et {Greek} praedare dispositam, delectum rerum sapientissimum, argutum quoque interdum, dictionemque seu stylum historico aeque acphilosopho dignissimum, et vix a quoque alio Anglo, Humio ac Robertsonohaud exceptis (praereptum?) vehementer laudemus, atque saeculo nostrode hujusmodi historia gratulemur. . .. . Gibbonus adversaries cum in tumextra patriam nactus est, quia propogationem religionis Christianae, non, tit vulgo, fieri solet, cut more Theologorum, sed ut Historicum etPhilosophum decet, exposuerat. "

The French, Italian, and German translations have been executed withvarious success; but, instead of patronizing, I should willinglysuppress such imperfect copies, which injure the character, while theypropagate the name of the author. The first volume had been feebly, though faithfully, translated into French by M. Le Clerc de Septchenes, a young gentleman of a studious character and liberal fortune. Afterhis decease the work was continued by two manufacturers of Paris, M. M. Desmuniers and Cantwell: but the former is now an active member in thenational assembly, and the undertaking languishes in the hands of hisassociate. The superior merit of the interpreter, or his language, inclines me to prefer the Italian version: but I wish that it were in mypower to read the German, which is praised by the best judges. TheIrish pirates are at once my friends and my enemies, But I cannot bedispleased with the too numerous and correct impressions which have beenpublished for the use of the continent at Basil in Switzerland. [Note:Of their 14 8vo. Vols. The two last include the whole body of the notes. The public importunity had forced me to remove them from the end ofthe volume to the bottom of the page; but I have often repented ofmy compliance. ] The conquests of our language and literature are notconfined to Europe alone, and a writer who succeeds in London, isspeedily read on the banks of the Delaware and the Ganges. 

In the preface of the fourth volume, while I gloried in the name of anEnglishman, I announced my approaching return to the neighbourhood ofthe Lake of Lausanne. This last trial confirmed my assurance that I hadwisely chosen for my own happiness; nor did I once, in a year's visit, entertain a wish of settling in my native country. Britain is the freeand fortunate island; but where is the spot in which I could unite thecomforts and beauties of my establishment at Lausanne? The tumult ofLondon astonished my eyes and ears; the amusements of public places wereno longer adequate to the trouble; the clubs and assemblies were filledwith new faces and young men; and our best society, our long and latedinners, would soon have been prejudicial to my health. Without anyshare in the political wheel, I must be idle and insignificant: yet themost splendid temptations would not have enticed me to engage a secondtime in the servitude of Parliament or office. At Tunbridge, some weeksafter the publication of my History, I reluctantly quitted Lord and LadySheffield, and, with a young Swiss friend, M. Wilhelm. De Severy, whomI had introduced to the English world, I pursued the road of Dover andLausanne. My habitation was embellished in my absence, and the lastdivision of books, which followed my steps, increased my chosen libraryto the number of between six and seven thousand volumes. My seraglio wasample, my choice was free, my appetite was keen. After a full repast onHomer and Aristophanes, I involved myself in the philosophic maze of thewritings of Plato, of which the dramatic is, perhaps, more interestingthan the argumentative part: but I stepped aside into every path ofinquiry which reading or reflection accidentally opened. 

Alas! the joy of my return, and my studious ardour, were soon damped bythe melancholy state of my friend Mr. Deyverdun. His health and spiritshad long suffered a gradual decline, a succession of apoplectic fitsannounced his dissolution; and before he expired, those who loved himcould not wish for the continuance of his life. The voice of reasonmight congratulate his deliverance, but the feelings of nature andfriendship could be subdued only by time: his amiable character wasstill alive in my remembrance; each room, each walk, was imprinted withour common footsteps; and I should blush at my own philosophy, if a longinterval of study had not preceded and followed the death of my friend. By his last will he left to me the option of purchasing his house andgarden, or of possessing them during my life, on the payment either ofa stipulated price, or of an easy retribution to his kinsman and heir. I should probably have been tempted by the daemon of property, if somelegal difficulties had not been started against my title; a contestwould have been vexatious, doubtful, and invidious; and the heir mostgratefully subscribed an agreement, which rendered my life-possessionmore perfect, and his future condition more advantageous. Yet I hadoften revolved the judicious lines in which Pope answers the objectionsof his longsighted friend:

 Pity to build without or child or wife; Why, you'll enjoy it only all your life Well, if the use be mine, does it concern one, Whether the name belong to Pope or Vernon?

The certainty of my tenure has allowed me to lay out a considerable sumin improvements and alterations: they have been executed with skilland taste; and few men of letters, perhaps, in Europe, are so desirablylodged as myself. But I feel, and with the decline of years I shallmore painfully feel, that I am alone in Paradise. Among the circle of myacquaintance at Lausanne, I have gradually acquired the solid and tenderfriendship of a respectable family, the family of de Severy: the fourpersons of whom it is composed are all endowed with the virtues bestadapted to their age and situation; and I am encouraged to love theparents as a brother, and the children as a father. Every day we seekand find the opportunities of meeting: yet even this valuable connectioncannot supply the loss of domestic society. 

Within the last two or three years our tranquillity has been cloudedby the disorders of France: many families at Lausanne were alarmed andaffected by the terrors of an impending bankruptcy; but the revolution, or rather the dissolution of the kingdom has been heard and felt in theadjacent lands. 

I beg leave to subscribe my assent to Mr. Burke's creed on therevolution of France. I admire his eloquence, I approve his politics, I adore his chivalry, and I can almost excuse his reverence for churchestablishments. I have sometimes thought of writing a dialogue of thedead, in which Lucian, Erasmus, and Voltaire should mutually acknowledgethe danger of exposing an old superstition to the contempt of the blindand fanatic multitude. 

A swarm of emigrants of both sexes, who escaped from the public ruin, has been attracted by the vicinity, the manners, and the languageof Lausanne; and our narrow habitations in town and country are nowoccupied by the first names and titles of the departed monarchy. Thesenoble fugitives are entitled to our pity; they may claim our esteem, butthey cannot, in their present state of mind and fortune, much contributeto our amusement. Instead of looking down as calm and idle spectatorson the theatre of Europe, our domestic harmony is somewhat embitteredby the infusion of party spirit: our ladies and gentlemen assume thecharacter of self-taught politicians; and the sober dictates of wisdomand experience are silenced by the clamour of the triumphant democrates. The fanatic missionaries of sedition have scattered the seeds ofdiscontent in our cities and villages, which had flourished above twohundred and fifty years without fearing the approach of war, or feelingthe weight of government. Many individuals, and some communities, appearto be infested with the Gallic phrenzy, the wild theories of equaland boundless freedom; but I trust that the body of the people will befaithful to their sovereign and to themselves; and I am satisfied thatthe failure or success of a revolt would equally terminate in the ruinof the country. While the aristocracy of Berne protects the happiness, it is superfluous to enquire whether it be founded in the rights ofman: the oeconomy of the state is liberally supplied without the aid oftaxes; and the magistrates must reign with prudence and equity, sincethey are unarmed in the midst of an armed nation. 

The revenue of Berne, excepting some small duties, is derived fromchurch lands, tithes, feudal rights, and interest of money. The republichas nearly 500, 000 pounds sterling in the English funds, and the amountof their treasure is unknown to the citizens themselves. For myself(may the omen be averted) I can only declare, that the first stroke of arebel drum would be the signal of my immediate departure. 

When I contemplate the common lot of mortality, I must acknowledge thatI have drawn a high prize in the lottery of life. The far greater partof the globe is overspread with barbarism or slavery: in the civilizedworld, the most numerous class is condemned to ignorance and poverty;and the double fortune of my birth in a free and enlightened country, inan honourable and wealthy family, is the lucky chance of an unit againstmillions. The general probability is about three to one, that a new-borninfant will not live to complete his fiftieth year. [Note: Buffon, Supplement a l'Hist. Naturelle, vii. P, 158-164, of a given numberof new-born infants, one half, by the fault of nature or man, isextinguished before the age of puberty and reason, --a melancholycalculation!] I have now passed that age, and may fairly estimate thepresent value of my existence in the three-fold division of mind, body, and estate. 

1. The first and indispensable requisite of happiness is a clearconscience, unsullied by the reproach or remembrance of an unworthyaction. 

 --Hic murus aheneus esto, Nil conscire sibi, nulla pallescere culpa. 

I am endowed with a cheerful temper, a moderate sensibility, and anatural disposition to repose rather than to activity: some mischievousappetites and habits have perhaps been corrected by philosophy or time. The love of study, a passion which derives fresh vigour from enjoyment, supplies each day, each hour, with a perpetual source of independentand rational pleasure; and I am not sensible of any decay of the mentalfaculties. The original soil has been highly improved by cultivation;but it may be questioned, whether some flowers of fancy, some gratefulerrors, have not been eradicated with the weeds of prejudice. 2. Since Ihave escaped from the long perils of my childhood, the serious adviceof a physician has seldom been requisite. "The madness of superfluoushealth" I have never known; but my tender constitution has beenfortified by time, and the inestimable gift of the sound and peacefulslumbers of infancy may be imputed both to the mind and body. 3. I havealready described the merits of my society and situation; but theseenjoyments would be tasteless or bitter if their possession were notassured by an annual and adequate supply. According to the scale ofSwitzerland, I am a rich man; and I am indeed rich, since my income issuperior to my expence, and my expence is equal to my wishes. My friendLord Sheffield has kindly relieved me from the cares to which my tasteand temper are most adverse: shall I add, that since the failure ofmy first wishes, I have never entertained any serious thoughts of amatrimonial connection?

I am disgusted with the affectation of men of letters, who complain thatthey have renounced a substance for a shadow; and that their fame (whichsometimes is no insupportable weight) affords a poor compensation forenvy, censure, and persecution. [Note: M. D'Alembert relates, that ashe was walking in the gardens of Sans Souci with the King of Prussia, Frederic said to him, "Do you see that old woman, a poor weeder, asleepon that sunny bank? she is probably a more happy being than either ofus. " The king and the philosopher may speak for themselves; for my partI do not envy the old woman. ] My own experience, at least, has taughtme a very different lesson: twenty happy years have been animated bythe labour of my History; and its success has given me a name, a rank, a character, in the world, to which I should not otherwise have beenentitled. The freedom of my writings has indeed provoked an implacabletribe; but, as I was safe from the stings, I was soon accustomed tothe buzzing of the hornets: my nerves are not tremblingly alive, and myliterary temper is so happily framed, that I am less sensible of painthan of pleasure. The rational pride of an author may be offended, rather than flattered, by vague indiscriminate praise; but he cannot, heshould not, be indifferent to the fair testimonies of private and publicesteem. Even his moral sympathy may be gratified by the idea, thatnow, in the present hour, he is imparting some degree of amusement orknowledge to his friends in a distant land: that one day his mind willbe familiar to the grand-children of those who are yet unborn. I cannotboast of the friendship or favour of princes; the patronage of Englishliterature has long since been devolved on our booksellers, and themeasure of their liberality is the least ambiguous test of our commonsuccess. Perhaps the golden mediocrity of my fortune has contributed tofortify my application. 

The present is a fleeting moment, the past is no more; and our prospectof futurity is dark and doubtful. This day may possibly be my last:but the laws of probability, so true in general, so fallacious inparticular, still allow about fifteen years. [Mr. Buffon, from ourdisregard of the possibility of death within the four and twenty hours, concludes that a chance, which falls below or rises above ten thousandto one, will never affect the hopes or fears of a reasonable man. Thefact is true, but our courage is the effect of thoughtlessness, ratherthan of reflection. If a public lottery were drawn for, the choice ofan immediate victim, and if our name were inscribed on ore of the tenthousand tickets, should we be perfectly easy?] I shall soon enter intothe period which, as the most agreeable of my long life, was selectedby the judgment and experience of the sage Fontenelle. His choiceis approved by the eloquent historian of nature, who fixes our moralhappiness to the mature season in which our passions are supposed tobe calmed, our duties fulfilled, our ambition satisfied, our fameand fortune established on a solid basis (see Buffon). In privateconversation, that great and amiable man added the weight of his ownexperience; and this autumnal felicity might be exemplified in the livesof Voltaire, Hume, and many other men of letters. I am far more inclinedto embrace than to dispute this comfortable doctrine. I will not supposeany premature decay of the mind or body; but I must reluctantly observethat two causes, the abbreviation of time, and the failure of hope, willalways tinge with a browner shade the evening of life. 

[POSTSCRIPT by Lord Sheffield] WHEN I first undertook to prepare Mr. Gibbon's Memoirs for the Press, I supposed that it would be necessaryto introduce some continuation of them, from the time when they cease, namely, soon after his return to Switzerland in the year 1788; butthe examination of his correspondence with me suggested, that the bestcontinuation would be the publication of his letters from that timeto his death. I shall thus give more satisfaction, by employing thelanguage of Mr. Gibbon, instead of my own; and the public will see himin a new and (I think) an admirable light, as a writer of letters. By the insertion of a few occasional sentences, I shall obviate thedisadvantages that are apt to arise from an interrupted narration. Aprejudiced or a fastidious critic may condemn, perhaps, some parts ofthe letters as trivial; but many readers, I flatter myself, willbe gratified by discovering even in these my friend's affectionatefeelings, and his character in familiar life. His letters in generalbear a strong resemblance to the style and turn of his conversation; thecharacteristics of which were vivacity, elegance, and precision, withknowledge astonishingly extensive and correct. He never ceased tobe instructive and entertaining; and in general there was a vein ofpleasantry in his conversation which prevented its becoming languid, even during a residence of many months with a family in the country. 

It has been supposed that he always arranged what he intended to say, before he spoke; his quickness in conversation contradicts this notion:but it is very true, that before he sat down to write a note or letter, he completely arranged in his mind what he meant to express. He pursuedthe same method in respect to other composition; and he occasionallywould walk several times about his apartment before he had rounded aperiod to his taste. He has pleasantly remarked to me, that it sometimescost him many a turn before he could throw a sentiment into a form thatgratified his own criticism. His systematic habit of arrangement inpoint of style, assisted, in his instance, by an excellent memory andcorrect judgment, is much to be recommended to those who aspire to anyperfection in writing. 

Although the Memoirs extend beyond the time of Mr. Gibbon's return toLausanne, I shall insert a few Letters, written immediately after hisarrival there, and combine them so far as to include even the last notewhich he wrote a few days previously to his death. Some of them containfew incidents; but they connect and carry on the account either of hisopinions or of his employment.