Mactra,                   23
  Mactracea,                47
  Magillus,                 40
  Melanopsis,               71
  Meleagrina,               58
  Melo,                     92
  Mitra,                    92
  Modiola,                  56
  Mollusca,                 62
  Monoceros,                89
  Monodonta,                78
  Murex,                    35
  Mya,                      21
  Myaria,                   47
  Mytilus,                  27
  Mytilacea,                56

  Natica,                   74
  Navicella,                73
  Nassa,                    88
  Nautilus,             30-103
  Nerita,                   35
  Neritina,                 73
  Nucula,                   53
  Nymphacea,                49

  Octopus,                 104
  Oliva,                    98
  Onchidium,                66
  Orthocerata,             102
  Ostrea,                   26
  Otion,                    41
  Ostracea,                 59
  Ovula,                    93

  Paludina,                 72
  Pandora,                  48
  Panopæa,                  47
  Parmacella,               66
  Parmophorus,              64
  Patella,               61-63
  Pecten,                   58
  Pectunculus,              53
  Perna,                    57
  Pentalasmis,              41
  Phasianella,              79
  Pileopsis,                64
  Pinna,                    57
  Planorbis,                70
  Placuna,                  60
  Plagiostoma,              58
  Pleurotoma,               83
  Plicatula,                59
  Podopsis,                 59
  Pollicipes,               41
  Potamophila,              51
  Psammotæa,                49
  Pterocera,                86
  Pullastra,                51
  Pupa,                     69
  Purpurifera,              87
  Pyrgoma,                  41
  Pyrula,                   84

  Ranella,                  84
  Ricinula,                 88
  Rostellaria,              86
  Rotella,                  78
  Rudista,                  60

  Sabella,                  37
  Scalaria,                 76
  Scapellum,                42
  Serpula,                  36
  Sepia,                   104
  Siliquaria,               39
  Sigaretus,                75
  Solarium,                 77
  Solen,                    22
  Solenacea,                47
  Spirorbis,                39
  Spirula,                 102
  Spondylus,                25
  Stomatia,                 75
  Stomatella,               75
  Strombus,                 33
  Struthiolaria,            84
  Succinea,                 69

  Tellina,               22-30
  Terebellum,               97
  Teredo,                   46
  Terebra,                  91
  Testacellus,              67
  Trachelipoda,             67
  Tridacna,                 56
  Trigoniana,               53
  Trivia,                   97
  Triton,                   85
  Trochus,                  78
  Tubicinella,              40
  Turbinella,               83
  Turbo,                    79

  Umbrella,                 63
  Unio,                     54
  Unimusculosa,             56

  Valvata,                  71
  Venus,                 24-52
  Venericardia,             52
  Venerupis,                49
  Vermetus,                 76
  Volvaria,                 92
  Voluta,                   31
  Vulsella,                 60

  Xylophaga,                46

THE END.

Joseph Rickerby, Printer, Sherbourn Lane.

Transcriber Notes

All illustrations were moved so as to not split paragraphs. Words with
accented vowels were not standardized.

End of Project Gutenberg's Rudiments of Conchology, by Mary Anne Venning


disembarked at Methone, on the Messenian coast, to repose
     themselves for a while after the fatigues of the sea....
     From the port of Methone the pilots steered along the
     western coast of Peloponnesus, as far as the island of
     Zacynthus, or Zante, before they undertook the voyage (in
     their eyes a most arduous voyage) of one hundred leagues
     over the Ionian sea. As the fleet was surprised by a calm,
     sixteen days were consumed in the slow navigation.... At
     length the harbour of Caucana, on the southern side of
     Sicily, afforded a secure and hospitable shelter....
     Belisarius determined to hasten his operations, and his wise
     impatience was seconded by the winds. The fleet lost sight
     of Sicily, passed before the island of Malta, discovered the
     capes of Africa, ran along the coast with a strong gale from
     the north-east, and finally cast anchor at the promontory of
     Caput Vada, about five days journey to the south of
     Carthage....

     "Three months after their departure from Constantinople, the
     men and the horses, the arms and the military stores were
     safely disembarked, and five soldiers were left as a guard
     on each of the ships, which were disposed in the form of a
     semicircle. The remainder of the troops occupied a camp on
     the seashore, which they fortified, according to ancient
     discipline, with a ditch and rampart, and the discovery of a
     source of fresh water, while it allayed the thirst, excited
     the superstitious confidence of the Romans.... The small
     town of Sullecte, one day's journey from the camp, had the
     honour of being foremost to open her gates and resume her
     ancient allegiance; the larger cities of Leptis and
     Adrumetum imitated the example of loyalty as soon as
     Belisarius appeared, and he advanced without opposition as
     far as Grasse, a palace of the Vandal kings, at the distance
     of fifty miles from Carthage. The weary Romans indulged
     themselves in the refreshment of shady groves, cool
     fountains, and delicious fruits.... In three generations
     prosperity and a warm climate had dissolved the hardy virtue
     of the Vandals, who insensibly became the most luxurious of
     mankind. In their villas and gardens, which might deserve
     the Persian name of Paradise, they enjoyed a cool and
     elegant repose, and after the daily use of the bath, the
     barbarians were seated at a table profusely spread with the
     delicacies of the land and sea. Their silken robes, loosely
     flowing after the fashion of the Medes, were embroidered
     with gold, love and hunting were the labours of their life,
     and their vacant hours were amused by pantomimes,
     chariot-races, and the music and dances of the theatre.

     "In a march of twelve days the vigilance of Belisarius was
     constantly awake and active against his unseen enemies, by
     whom in every place and at every hour he might be suddenly
     attacked. An officer of confidence and merit, John the
     Armenian, led the vanguard of three hundred horse. Six
     hundred Massagetæ covered at a certain distance the left
     flank, and the whole fleet, steering along the coast, seldom
     lost sight of the army, which moved each day about twelve
     miles, and lodged in the evening in strong camps or in
     friendly towns. The near approach of the Romans to Carthage
     filled the mind of Gelimer with anxiety and terror....

     "Yet the authority and promises of Gelimer collected a
     formidable army, and his plans were concerted with some
     degree of military skill. An order was despatched to his
     brother Ammatas to collect all the forces of Carthage, and
     to encounter the van of the Roman army at the distance of
     ten miles from the city: his nephew Gibamund with two
     thousand horse was destined to attack their left, when the
     monarch himself, who silently followed, should charge their
     rear in a situation which excluded them from the aid and
     even the view of their fleet. But the rashness of Ammatas
     was fatal to himself and his country. He anticipated the
     hour of attack, outstripped his tardy followers, and was
     pierced with a mortal wound, after he had slain with his own
     hand twelve of his boldest antagonists. His Vandals fled to
     Carthage: the highway, almost ten miles, was strewed with
     dead bodies, and it seemed incredible that such multitudes
     could be slaughtered by the swords of three hundred Romans.
     The nephew of Gelimer was defeated after a slight combat by
     the six hundred Massagetæ; they did not equal the third part
     of his numbers, but each Scythian was fired by the example
     of his chief, who gloriously exercised the privilege of his
     family by riding foremost and alone to shoot the first arrow
     against the enemy. In the meantime Gelimer himself, ignorant
     of the event, and misguided by the windings of the hills,
     inadvertently passed the Roman army and reached the scene of
     action where Ammatas had fallen. He wept the fate of his
     brother and of Carthage, charged with irresistible fury the
     advancing squadrons, and might have pursued and perhaps
     decided the victory, if he had not wasted those inestimable
     moments in the discharge of a vain though pious duty to the
     dead. While his spirit was broken by this mournful office,
     he heard the trumpet of Belisarius, who, leaving Antonina
     and his infantry in the camp, pressed forward with his
     guards and the remainder of the cavalry to rally his flying
     troops, and to restore the fortune of the day. Much room
     could not be found in this disorderly battle for the talents
     of a general; but the king fled before the hero, and the
     Vandals, accustomed only to a Moorish enemy, were incapable
     of withstanding the arms and the discipline of the
     Romans....

     "As soon as the tumult had subsided, the several parts of
     the army informed each other of the accidents of the day,
     and Belisarius pitched his camp on the field of victory, to
     which the tenth milestone from Carthage had applied the
     Latin appellation of _Decimus_. From a wise suspicion of the
     stratagems and resources of the Vandals, he marched the next
     day in the order of battle; halted in the evening before the
     gates of Carthage, and allowed a night of repose, that he
     might not, in darkness and disorder, expose the city to the
     licence of the soldiers, or the soldiers themselves to the
     secret ambush of the city. But as the fears of Belisarius
     were the result of calm and intrepid reason, he was soon
     satisfied that he might confide without danger in the
     peaceful and friendly aspect of the capital. Carthage blazed
     with innumerable torches, the signal of the public joy; the
     chain was removed that guarded the entrance of the port, the
     gates were thrown open, and the people with acclamations of
     gratitude hailed and invited their Roman deliverers. The
     defeat of the Vandals and the freedom of Africa were
     announced to the city on the eve of St. Cyprian, when the
     churches were already adorned and illuminated for the
     festival of the martyr whom three centuries of superstition
     had almost raised to a local deity.... One awful hour
     reversed the fortunes of the contending parties. The
     suppliant Vandals, who had so lately indulged the vices of
     conquerors, sought an humble refuge in the sanctuary of the
     church; while the merchants of the east were delivered from
     the deepest dungeon of the palace by their affrighted
     keeper, who implored the protection of his captives, and
     showed them through an aperture in the wall the sails of the
     Roman fleet. After their separation from the army, the naval
     commanders had proceeded with slow caution along the coast,
     till they reached the Hermæan promontory, and obtained the
     first intelligence of the victory of Belisarius. Faithful to
     his instructions, they would have cast anchor about twenty
     miles from Carthage, if the more skilful had not represented
     the perils of the shore and the signs of an impending
     tempest. Still ignorant of the revolution, they declined
     however the rash attempt of forcing the chain of the port,
     and the adjacent harbour and suburb of Mandracium were
     insulted only by the rapine of a private officer, who
     disobeyed and deserted his leaders. But the imperial fleet,
     advancing with a fair wind, steered through the narrow
     entrance of the Goletta and occupied the deep and capacious
     lake of Tunis, a secure station about five miles from the
     capital. No sooner was Belisarius informed of the arrival
     than he despatched orders that the greatest part of the
     mariners should be immediately landed to join the triumph
     and to swell the apparent numbers of the Romans. Before he
     allowed them to enter the gates of Carthage he exhorted
     them, in a discourse worthy of himself and the occasion, not
     to disgrace the glory of their arms, and to remember that
     the Vandals had been the tyrants, but that _they_ were the
     deliverers of the Africans, who must now be respected as the
     voluntary and affectionate subjects of their common
     sovereign. The Romans marched through the street in close
     ranks, prepared for battle if an enemy had appeared; the
     strict order maintained by their general imprinted on their
     minds the duty of obedience; and in an age in which custom
     and impunity almost sanctified the abuse of conquest, the
     genius of one man repressed the passions of a victorious
     army. The voice of menace and complaint was silent, the
     trade of Carthage was not interrupted; while Africa changed
     her master and her government, the shops continued open and
     busy; and the soldiers, after sufficient guards had been
     posted, modestly departed to the houses which had been
     allotted for their reception. Belisarius fixed his residence
     in the palace, seated himself on the throne of Genseric,
     accepted and distributed the barbaric spoil, granted their
     lives to the suppliant Vandals, and laboured to restore the
     damage which the suburb of Mandracium had sustained in the
     preceding night. At supper he entertained his principal
     officers with the form and magnificence of a royal banquet.
     The victor was respectfully served by the captive officers
     of the household, and in the moments of festivity, when the
     impartial spectators applauded the fortune and merit of
     Belisarius, his envious flatterers secretly shed their venom
     on every word and gesture which might alarm the suspicions
     of a jealous monarch. One day was given to these pompous
     scenes, which may not be despised as useless if they
     attracted the popular veneration; but the active mind of
     Belisarius, which in the pride of victory could suppose
     defeat, had already resolved that the Roman empire in Africa
     should not depend on the chance of arms or the favour of the
     people. The fortifications of Carthage had alone been
     excepted from the general proscription; but in the reign of
     ninety-five years they were suffered to decay by the
     thoughtless and indolent Vandals. A wiser conqueror restored
     with incredible despatch the walls and ditches of the city.
     His liberality encouraged the workmen; the soldiers, the
     mariners, and the citizens vied with each other in the
     salutary labour; and Gelimer, who had feared to trust his
     person in an open town, beheld with astonishment and
     despair the rising strength of an impregnable fortress."

But we have hardly finished admiring the brilliant picture of the
conquest of Africa and Italy, before Gibbon gives us further proofs of
his many-sided culture and catholicity of mind. His famous chapter on
the Roman law has been accepted by the most fastidious experts of an
esoteric science as a masterpiece of knowledge, condensation, and
lucidity. It has actually been received as a textbook in some of the
continental universities, published separately with notes and
illustrations. When we consider the neglect of Roman jurisprudence in
England till quite recent times, and its severe study on the
Continent, we shall better appreciate the mental grasp and vigour
which enabled an unprofessional Englishman in the last century to
produce such a dissertation. A little further on (chapter forty-seven)
the history of the doctrine of the Incarnation, and the controversies
that sprang up around it, are discussed with a subtlety worthy of a
scientific theologian. It is perhaps the first attempt towards a
philosophical history of dogma, less patient and minute than the works
of the specialists of modern Germany on the same subject, but for
spirit, clearness, and breadth it is superior to those profound but
somewhat barbarous writers. The flexibility of intellect which can do
justice in quick succession to such diverse subjects is very
extraordinary, and assuredly implies great width of sympathy and large
receptivity of nature.

Having terminated the period of Justinian, Gibbon makes a halt, and
surveys the varied and immense scene through which he will presently
pass in many directions. He rapidly discovers _ten_ main lines, along
which he will advance in succession to his final goal, the conquest
of Constantinople. The two pages at the commencement of the
forty-eighth chapter, in which he sketches out the remainder of his
plan and indicates the topics which he means to treat, are admirable
as a luminous _précis_, and for the powerful grasp which they show of
his immense subject. It lay spread out all before him, visible in
every part to his penetrating eye, and he seems to rejoice in his
conscious strength and ability to undertake the historical conquest on
which he is about to set out. "Nor will this scope of narrative," he
says, "the riches and variety of these materials, be incompatible with
the unity of design and composition. As in his daily prayers the
Mussulman of Fez or Delhi still turns his face towards the temple of
Mecca, the historian's eye will always be fixed on the city of
Constantinople." Then follows the catalogue of nations and empires
whose fortunes he means to sing. A grander vision, a more majestic
procession, never swept before the mind's eye of poet or historian.

And the practical execution is worthy of the initial inspiration.
After a rapid and condensed narrative of Byzantine history till the
end of the twelfth century, he takes up the brilliant theme of Mahomet
and his successors. A few pages on the climate and physical features
of Arabia fittingly introduce the subject. And it may be noted in
passing that Gibbon's attention to geography, and his skill and taste
for geographical description, are remarkable among his many gifts. He
was as diligent a student of maps and travels as of historical
records, and seems to have had a rare faculty of realising in
imagination scenes and countries of which he had only read. In three
chapters, glowing with oriental colour and rapid as a charge of Arab
horse, he tells the story of the prophet and the Saracen empire. Then
the Bulgarians, Hungarians, and Russians appear on the scene, to be
soon followed by the Normans, and their short but brilliant dominion
in Southern Italy. But now the Seljukian Turks are emerging from the
depths of Asia, taking the place of the degenerate Saracens, invading
the Eastern empire and conquering Jerusalem. The two waves of hostile
fanaticism soon meet in the Crusades. The piratical seizure of
Constantinople by the Latins brings in view the French and Venetians,
the family of Courtenay and its pleasant digression. Then comes the
slow agony of the restored Greek empire. Threatened by the Moguls, it
is invaded and dismembered by the Ottoman Turks. Constantinople seems
ready to fall into their hands. But the timely diversion of Tamerlane
produces a respite of half a century. Nothing can be more artistic
than Gibbon's management of his subject as he approaches its
termination. He, who is such a master of swift narrative, at this
point introduces artful pauses, _suspensions_ of the final
catastrophe, which heighten our interest in the fate which is hanging
over the city of Constantine. In 1425 the victorious Turks have
conquered all the Greek empire save the capital. Amurath II. besieged
it for two months, and was only prevented from taking it by a domestic
revolt in Asia Minor. At the end of his sixty-fifth chapter Gibbon
leaves Constantinople hanging on the brink of destruction, and paints
in glowing colours the military virtues of its deadly enemies, the
Ottomans. Then he interposes one of his most finished chapters, of
miscellaneous contents, but terminating in the grand and impressive
pages on the revival of learning in Italy. There we read of the
"curiosity and emulation of the Latins," of the zeal of Petrarch and
the success of Boccace in Greek studies, of Leontius, Pilatus,
Bessarion, and Lascaris. A glow of sober enthusiasm warms the great
scholar as he paints the early light of that happy dawn. He admits
that the "arms of the Turks pressed the flight of the Muses" from
Greece to Italy. But he "trembles at the thought that Greece might
have been overwhelmed with her schools and libraries, before Europe
had emerged from the deluge of barbarism, and that the seeds of
science might have been scattered on the winds, before the Italian
soil was prepared for their cultivation." In one of the most perfect
sentences to be found in English prose he thus describes the Greek
tongue: "In their lowest depths of servitude and depression, the
subjects of the Byzantine throne were still possessed of a golden key
that could unlock the treasures of antiquity, of a musical and
prolific language that gives a soul to the objects of sense and a body
to the abstractions of philosophy." Meanwhile we are made to feel that
the subjects of the Byzantine throne, with their musical speech, that
Constantinople with her libraries and schools, will all soon fall a
prey to the ravening and barbarous Turk. This brightening light of the
Western sky contending with the baleful gloom which is settling down
over the East, is one of the most happy contrasts in historical
literature. Then comes the end, the preparations and skill of the
savage invader, the futile but heroic defence, the overwhelming ruin
which struck down the Cross and erected the Crescent over the city of
Constantine the Great.

It is one of the many proofs of Gibbon's artistic instinct that he did
not end with this great catastrophe. On the contrary, he adds three
more chapters. His fine tact warned him that the tumult and thunder of
the final ruin must not be the last sounds to strike the ear. A
resolution of the discord was needed; a soft chorale should follow the
din and lead to a mellow _adagio_ close. And this he does with supreme
skill. With ill-suppressed disgust, he turns from New to Old Home.
"Constantinople no longer appertains to the Roman historian--nor shall
I enumerate the civil and religious edifices that were profaned or
erected by its Turkish masters." Amid the decayed temples and
mutilated beauty of the Eternal City, he moves down to a melodious and
pathetic conclusion--piously visits the remaining fragments of ancient
splendour and art, deplores and describes the ravages wrought by time,
and still more by man, and recurring once again to the scene of his
first inspiration, bids farewell to the Roman empire among the ruins
of the Capitol.

We have hitherto spoken in terms of warm, though perhaps not excessive
eulogy of this great work. But praise would lack the force of
moderation and equipoise, if allusion were not made to some of its
defects. The pervading defect of it all has been already referred to
in a preceding chapter--an inadequate conception of society as an
organism, living and growing, like other organisms, according to
special laws of its own. In these brilliant volumes on the Middle
Ages, the special problems which that period suggests are not stated,
far less solved; they are not even suspected. The feudal polity, the
Catholic Church, the theocratic supremacy of the Popes, considered as
institutions which the historian is called upon to estimate and judge;
the gradual dissolution of both feudalism and Catholicism, brought
about by the spread of industry in the temporal order and of science
in the spiritual order, are not even referred to. Many more topics
might be added to this list of weighty omissions. It would be needless
to say that no blame attaches to Gibbon for neglecting views of
history which had not emerged in his time, if there were not persons
who, forgetting the slow progress of knowledge, are apt to ascribe the
defects of a book to incompetence in its author. If Gibbon's
conception of the Middle Ages seems to us inadequate now, it is
because since his time our conceptions of society in that and in all
periods have been much enlarged. We may be quite certain that if
Gibbon had had our experience, no one would have seen the
imperfections of particular sides of his work as we now have it more
clearly than he.

Laying aside, therefore, reflexions of this kind as irrelevant and
unjust, we may ask whether there are any other faults which may fairly
be found with him. One must admit that there are. After all, they are
not very important.

(1.) Striking as is his account of Justinian's reign, it has two
blemishes. First, the offensive details about the vices of Theodora.
Granting them to be well authenticated, which they are not, it was
quite unworthy of the author and his subject to soil his pages with
such a _chronique scandaleuse_. The defence which he sets up in his
Memoirs, that he is "justified in painting the manners of the times,
and that the vices of Theodora form an essential feature in the reign
and character of Justinian," cannot be admitted. First, we are not
sure that the vices existed, and were not the impure inventions of a
malignant calumniator. Secondly, Gibbon is far from painting the
manners of the time as a moralist or an historian; he paints them with
a zest for pruriency worthy of Bayle or Brantome. It was an occasion
for a wise scepticism to register grave doubts as to the infamous
stories of Procopius. A rehabilitation of Theodora is not a theme
calculated to provoke enthusiasm, and is impossible besides from the
entire want of adequate evidence. But a thoughtful writer would not
have lost his time, if he referred to the subject at all, in pointing
out the moral improbability of the current accounts. He might have
dwelt on the _unsupported_ testimony of the only witness, the
unscrupulous Procopius, whom Gibbon himself convicts on another
subject of flagrant mendacity. But he would have been especially slow
to believe that a woman who had led the life of incredible profligacy
he has described, would, in consequence of "some vision either of
sleep or fancy," in which future exaltation was promised to her,
assume "like a skilful actress, a more decent character, relieve her
poverty by the laudable industry of spinning wool, and affect a life
of chastity and solitude in a small house, which she afterwards
changed into a magnificent temple." Magdalens have been converted, no
doubt, from immoral living, but not by considerations of astute
prudence suggested by day-dreams of imperial greatness. Gibbon might
have thought of the case of Madame de Maintenon, and how her
reputation fared in the hands of the vindictive courtiers of
Versailles; how a woman, cold as ice and pure as snow, was freely
charged with the most abhorrent vices without an atom of foundation.
But the truth probably is that he never thought of the subject
seriously at all, and that, yielding to a regrettable inclination, he
copied his licentious Greek notes with little reluctance.

(2.) The character of Belisarius, enigmatical enough in itself, is
made by him more enigmatical still. He concludes the forty-first
chapter, in which the great deeds of the conqueror of Italy and
Africa, and the ingratitude with which Justinian rewarded his
services, are set forth in strong contrast, with the inept remark that
"Belisarius appears to be either below or above the character of a
MAN." The grounds of the apparent meekness with which Belisarius
supported his repeated disgraces cannot now be ascertained: but the
motives of Justinian's conduct are not so difficult to find. As Finlay
points out in his thoughtful history of Greece, Belisarius must have
been a peculator on a large and dangerous scale. "Though he refused
the Gothic throne and the empire of the West, he did not despise nor
neglect wealth: he accumulated riches which could not have been
acquired by any commander-in-chief amidst the wars and famines of the
period, without rendering the military and civil administration
subservient to his pecuniary profit. On his return from Italy he lived
at Constantinople in almost regal splendour, and maintained a body of
7,000 cavalry attached to his household. In an empire where
confiscation was an ordinary financial resource, and under a sovereign
whose situation rendered jealousy only common prudence, it is not
surprising that the wealth of Belisarius excited the imperial
cupidity, and induced Justinian to seize great part of it" (_Greece
under the Romans_, chap. 3). There is shrewd insight in this, and
though we may regret that we cannot attain to more, it is better than
leaving the subject with an unmeaning paradox.

It may be said generally that Gibbon has not done justice to the
services rendered to Europe by the Byzantine empire. In his crowded
forty-eighth chapter, which is devoted to the subject, he passes over
events and characters with such speed that his history in this part
becomes little more than a chronicle, vivid indeed, but barren of
thoughtful political views. His account of the Isaurian period may be
instanced among others as an example of defective treatment. If we
turn to the judicious Finlay, we see what an immense but generally
unacknowledged debt Europe owes to the Greek empire. The saving of
Christendom from Mohammedan conquest is too easily attributed to the
genius of Charles Martel and his brave Franks. The victory at Tours
was important no doubt, but almost a century previously the followers
of the prophet had been checked by Heraclius; and their memorable
repulse before Constantinople under the Isaurian Leo was the real
barrier opposed to their conquest of the West. It requires but little
reflection to see that without this brave resistance to the Moslem
invasion, the course of mediæval history would have been completely
changed. Next in time, but hardly second in value to the services of
the Greeks at Marathon and Salamis, must be reckoned the services of
the Byzantine emperors in repelling the barbarians. Such an important
consideration as this should hardly have escaped Gibbon.

Gibbon's account of Charlemagne is strangely inadequate. It is perhaps
the only instance in his work where he has failed to appreciate a
truly great man, and the failure is the more deplorable as it concerns
one of the greatest men who have ever lived. He did not realise the
greatness of the man, of his age, or of his work. Properly
considered, the eighth century is the most important and memorable
which Europe has ever seen. During its course the geographical limits,
the ecclesiastical polity, and the feudal system within and under
which our western group of nations was destined to live for five or
six centuries, were provisionally settled and determined. The
wonderful house of the Carolings, which produced no less than five
successive rulers of genius (of whom two had extraordinary genius,
Charles Martel and Charlemagne), were the human instruments of this
great work. The Frankish Monarchy was hastening to ruin when they
saved it. Saxons in the East and Saracens in the South were on the
point of extinguishing the few surviving embers of civilisation which
still existed. The Bishop of Rome was ready to fall a prey to the
Lombards, and the progressive papacy of Hildebrand and Innocent ran
imminent risk of being extirpated at its root. Charles and his
ancestors prevented these evils. Of course it is open to any one to
say that there were no evils threatening, that Mohammedanism is as
good as Christianity, that the Papacy was a monstrous calamity, that
to have allowed Eastern Germany to remain pagan and barbarous would
have done no harm. The question cannot be discussed here. But every
law of historic equity compels us to admit that whether the result was
good or bad, the genius of men who could leave such lasting
impressions on the world as the Carolings did, must have been
exceptionally great. And this is what Gibbon has not seen; he has not
seen that, whether their work was good or bad in the issue, it was
colossal. His tone in reference to Charlemagne is unworthy to a
degree. "Without injustice to his fame, I may discern some blemishes
in the sanctity and greatness of the restorer of the Western Empire.
Of his moral virtues, chastity was not the most conspicuous." This
from the pen of Gibbon seems hardly serious. Again: "I touch with
reverence the laws of Charlemagne, so highly applauded by a
respectable judge. They compose not a system, but a series of
occasional and minute edicts, for the correction of abuses, the
reformation of manners, the economy of his farms, the care of his
poultry, and even the sale of his eggs." And yet Gibbon had read the
Capitularies. The struggle and care of the hero to master in some
degree the wide welter of barbarism surging around him, he never
recognised. It is a spot on Gibbon's fame.

Dean Milman considers that Gibbon's account of the Crusades is the
least accurate and satisfactory chapter in his history, and "that he
has here failed in that lucid arrangement which in general gives
perspicuity to his most condensed and crowded narratives." This blame
seems to be fully merited, if restricted to the second of the two
chapters which Gibbon has devoted to the Crusades. The fifty-eighth
chapter, in which he treats of the First Crusade, leaves nothing to be
desired. It is not one of his best chapters, though it is quite up to
his usually high level. But the fifty-ninth chapter, it must be owned,
is not only weak, but what is unexampled elsewhere in him, confused
and badly written. It is not, as in the case of Charlemagne, a
question of imperfect appreciation of a great man or epoch; it is a
matter of careless and slovenly presentation of a period which he had
evidently mastered with his habitual thoroughness, but, owing to the
rapidity with which he composed his last volume, he did not do full
justice to it. He says significantly in his Memoirs, that "he wished
that a pause, an interval, had been allowed for a serious revisal" of
the last three volumes, and there can be little doubt that this
chapter was one of the sources of his regrets. It is in fact a mere
tangle. The Second and the Third Crusades are so jumbled together,
that it is only a reader who knows the subject very well who can find
his way through the labyrinth. Gibbon seems at this point, a thing
very unusual with him, to have become impatient with his subject, and
to have wished to hurry over it. "A brief parallel," he says, "may
save the repetition of a tedious narrative." The result of this
expeditious method has been far from happy. It is the only occasion
where Gibbon has failed in his usual high finish and admirable
literary form.

Gibbon's style was at one period somewhat of a party question. Good
Christians felt a scruple in discerning any merits in the style of a
writer who had treated the martyrs of the early Church with so little
ceremony and generosity. On the other hand, those whose opinions
approached more or less to his, expatiated on the splendour and
majesty of his diction. Archbishop Whately went out of his way in a
note to his _Logic_ to make a keen thrust at an author whom it was
well to depreciate whenever occasion served. "His way of writing," he
says, "reminds one of those persons who never dare look you full in
the face." Such criticisms are out of date now. The faults of Gibbon's
style are obvious enough, and its compensatory merits are not far to
seek. No one can overlook its frequent tumidity and constant want of
terseness. It lacks suppleness, ease, variety. It is not often
distinguished by happy selection of epithet, and seems to ignore all
delicacy of _nuance_. A prevailing grandiloquence, which easily slides
into pomposity, is its greatest blemish. The acute Porson saw this and
expressed it admirably. In the preface to his letters to Archdeacon
Travis, he says of Gibbon, "Though his style is in general correct and
elegant, he sometimes 'draws out the thread of his verbosity finer
than the staple of his argument.' In endeavouring to avoid vulgar
terms he too frequently dignifies trifles, and clothes common thoughts
in a splendid dress that would be rich enough for the noblest ideas.
In short we are too often reminded of that great man, Mr. Prig, the
auctioneer, whose manner was so inimitably fine that he had as much to
say on a ribbon as on a Raphael." It seems as if Gibbon had taken the
stilted tone of the old French tragedy for his model, rather than the
crisp and nervous prose of the best French writers. We are constantly
offended by a superfine diction lavished on barbarous chiefs and rough
soldiers of the Lower Empire, which almost reproduces the high-flown
rhetoric in which Corneille's and Racine's characters address each
other. Such phrases as the "majesty of the throne," "the dignity of
the purple," the "wisdom of the senate," recur with a rather jarring
monotony, especially when the rest of the narrative is designed to
show that there was no majesty nor dignity nor wisdom involved in the
matter. We feel that the writer was thinking more of his sonorous
sentence than of the real fact. On the other hand, nothing but a want
of candour or taste can lead any one to overlook the rare and great
excellences of Gibbon's style. First of all, it is singularly correct:
a rather common merit now, but not common in his day. But its
sustained vigour and loftiness will always be uncommon; above all its
rapidity and masculine length of stride are quite admirable. When he
takes up his pen to describe a campaign, or any great historic scene,
we feel that we shall have something worthy of the occasion, that we
shall be carried swiftly and grandly through it all, without the
suspicion of a breakdown of any kind being possible. An indefinable
stamp of weightiness is impressed on Gibbon's writing; he has a
baritone manliness which banishes everything small, trivial, or weak.
When he is eloquent (and it should be remembered to his credit that he
never affects eloquence, though he occasionally affects dignity), he
rises without effort into real grandeur. On the whole we may say that
his manner, with certain manifest faults, is not unworthy of his
matter, and the praise is great.

It is not quite easy to give expression to another feeling which is
often excited in reading Gibbon. It is somewhat of this kind, that it
is more fitted to inspire admiration than love or sympathy. Its merits
are so great, the mass of information it contains is so stupendous,
that all competent judges of such work feel bound to praise it.
Whether they like it in the same degree, may be questioned. Among
reading men and educated persons it is not common--such is my
experience--to meet with people who know their Gibbon well. Superior
women do not seem to take to him kindly, even when there is no
impediment on religious grounds. Madame du Deffand, writing to
Walpole, says, "I whisper it to you, but I am not pleased with Mr.
Gibbon's work. It is declamatory, oratorical.... I lay it aside
without regret, and it requires an effort to take it up again."
Another of Walpole's correspondents, the Countess of Ossory, seems to
have made similar strictures. If we admit that women are less capable
than masculine scholars of doing justice to the strong side of Gibbon,
we may also acknowledge that they are better fitted than men to
appreciate and to be shocked by his defective side, which is a
prevailing want of moral elevation and nobility of sentiment. His
cheek rarely flushes in enthusiasm for a good cause. The tragedy of
human life never seems to touch him, no glimpse of the infinite ever
calms and raises the reader of his pages. Like nearly all the men of
his day, he was of the earth earthy, and it is impossible to get over
the fact.

CHAPTER X.

LAST ILLNESS.--DEATH.--CONCLUSION.

Gibbon had now only about six months to live. He did not seem to have
suffered by his rapid journey from Lausanne to London. During the
summer which he spent with his friend Lord Sheffield, he was much as
usual; only his friend noticed that his habitual dislike to motion
appeared to increase, and he was so incapable of exercise that he was
confined to the library and dining-room. "Then he joined Mr. F. North
in pleasant arguments against exercise in general. He ridiculed the
unsettled and restless disposition that summer, the most uncomfortable
of all seasons, as he said, generally gives to those who have the use
of their limbs." The true disciples of Epicurus are not always the
least stout and stoical in the presence of irreparable evils.

After spending three or four months at Sheffield Place, he went to
Bath to visit his step-mother, Mrs. Gibbon. His conduct to her through
life was highly honourable to him. It should be remembered that her
jointure, paid out of his father's decayed estate, was a great tax on
his small income. In his efforts to improve his position by selling
his landed property, Mrs. Gibbon seems to have been at times somewhat
difficult to satisfy as regards the security of her interests. It was
only prudent on her part. But it is easy to see what a source of
alienation and quarrel was here ready prepared, if both parties had
not risen superior to sordid motives. There never seems to have been
the smallest cloud between them. When one of his properties was sold
he writes: "Mrs. Gibbon's jointure is secured on the Buriton estate,
and her legal consent is requisite for the sale. Again and again I
must repeat my hope that she is perfectly satisfied, and that the
close of her life may not be embittered by suspicion, fear, or
discontent. What new security does she prefer--the funds, a mortgage,
or your land? At all events, she must be made easy." So Gibbon left
town and lay at Reading on his road to Bath: here he passed about ten
days with his step-mother, who was now nearly eighty years of age. "In
mind and conversation she is just the same as twenty years ago," he
writes to Lord Sheffield; "she has spirits, appetite, legs, and eyes,
and talks of living till ninety. I can say from my heart, Amen." And
in another letter, a few days later, he says: "A _tête-à-tête_ of
eight or nine hours every day is rather difficult to support; yet I do
assure you that our conversation flows with more ease and spirit when
we are alone, than when any auxiliaries are summoned to our aid. She
is indeed a wonderful woman, and I think all her faculties of the mind
stronger and more active than I have ever known them.... I shall
therefore depart next Friday, but I may possibly reckon without my
host, as I have not yet apprised Mrs. G. of the term of my visit, and
will certainly not quarrel with her for a short delay." He then went
to Althorpe, and it is the last evidence of his touching a
book--"exhausted the morning (of the 5th November) among the first
editions of Cicero." Then he came to London, and in a few days was
seized with the illness which in a little more than two months put an
end to his life.

His malady was dropsy, complicated with other disorders. He had most
strangely neglected a very dangerous symptom for upwards of thirty
years, not only having failed to take medical advice about it, but
even avoiding all allusion to it to bosom friends like Lord Sheffield.
But longer concealment was now impossible. He sent for the eminent
surgeon Farquhar (the same who afterwards attended William Pitt), and
he, together with Cline, at once recognised the case as one of the
utmost gravity, though they did not say as much to the patient. On
Thursday, the 14th of November, he was tapped and greatly relieved. He
said he was not appalled by the operation, and during its progress he
did not lay aside his usual good-humoured pleasantry. He was soon out
again, but only for a few days, and a fortnight after another tapping
was necessary. Again he went out to dinners and parties, which must
have been most imprudent at his age and in his state. But he does not
seem to have acted contrary to medical advice. He was very anxious to
meet the prime minister, William Pitt, with whom he was not
acquainted, though he must have seen him in old days in the House. He
saw him twice; once at Eden Farm for a whole day, and was much
gratified, we are told. At last he got to what he called his home--the
house of his true and devoted friend, Lord Sheffield. "But," says the
latter, whose narrative of his friend's last illness is marked by a
deep and reserved tenderness that does him much honour, "this last
visit to Sheffield Place became far different from any he had ever
made before. That ready, cheerful, various and illuminating
conversation which we had before admired in him, was not always to be
found in the library or the drawing-room. He moved with difficulty,
and retired from company sooner than he had been used to do. On the
23rd of December his appetite began to fail him. He observed to me
that it was a very bad sign _with him_ when he could not eat his
breakfast, which he had done at all times very heartily; and this
seems to have been the strongest expression of apprehension that he
was ever observed to utter." He soon became too ill to remain beyond
the reach of the highest medical advice. On the 7th of January, 1794,
he left a houseful of company and friends for his lodgings in St.
James's Street. On arriving he sent the following note to Lord
Sheffield, the last lines he ever wrote:--

    "ST. JAMES'S, FOUR O'CLOCK, TUESDAY.

    "This date says everything. I was almost killed between
    Sheffield Place and East Grinstead by hard, frozen, long, and
    cross ruts, that would disgrace the approach of an Indian
    wigwam. The rest was somewhat less painful, and I reached
    this place half dead, but not seriously feverish or ill. I
    found a dinner invitation from Lord Lucan; but what are
    dinners to me? I wish they did not know of my departure. I
    catch the flying post. What an effort! Adieu till Thursday or
    Friday."

The end was not far off. On the 13th of January he underwent another
operation, and, as usual, experienced much relief. "His spirits
continued good. He talked of passing his time at houses which he had
often frequented with great pleasure--the Duke of Devonshire's, Mr.
Craufurd's, Lord Spencer's, Lord Lucan's, Sir Ralph Payne's, Mr.
Batt's." On the 14th of January "he saw some company--Lady Lucan and
Lady Spencer--and thought himself well enough to omit the opium
draught which he had been used to take for some time. He slept very
indifferently; before nine the next morning he rose, but could not eat
his breakfast. However, he appeared tolerably well, yet complained at
times of a pain in his stomach. At one o'clock he received a visit of
an hour from Madame de Sylva; and at three, his friend, Mr. Craufurd,
of Auchinames (whom he always mentioned with particular regard),
called, and stayed with him till past five o'clock. They talked, as
usual, on various subjects; and twenty hours before his death Mr.
Gibbon happened to fall into a conversation not uncommon with him, on
the probable duration of his life. He said that he thought himself a
good life for ten, twelve, or perhaps twenty years. About six he ate
the wing of a chicken and drank three glasses of Madeira. After dinner
he became very uneasy and impatient, complained a good deal, and
appeared so weak that his servant was alarmed.

"During the evening he complained much of his stomach, and of a
feeling of nausea. Soon after nine, he took his opium draught and went
to bed. About ten he complained of much pain, and desired that warm
napkins might be applied to his stomach. He almost incessantly
expressed a sense of pain till about four o'clock in the morning, when
he said he found his stomach much easier. About seven the servant
asked whether he should send for Mr. Farquhar. He answered, No; that
he was as well as the day before. At about half-past eight he got out
of bed, and said he was 'plus adroit' than he had been for three
months past, and got into bed again without assistance, better than
usual. About nine he said he would rise. The servant, however,
persuaded him to remain in bed till Mr. Farquhar, who was expected at
eleven, should come. Till about that hour he spoke with great
facility. Mr. Farquhar came at the time appointed, and he was then
visibly dying. When the _valet-de-chambre_ returned, after attending
Mr. Farquhar out of the room, Mr. Gibbon said, 'Pourquoi est ce que
vous me quittez?' This was about half-past eleven. At twelve he drank
some brandy and water from a teapot, and desired his favourite servant
to stay with him. These were the last words he pronounced
articulately. To the last he preserved his senses; and when he could
no longer speak, his servant having asked a question, he made a sign
to show that he understood him. He was quite tranquil, and did not
stir, his eyes half shut. About a quarter before one he ceased to
breathe." He wanted just eighty-three days of fifty-seven years of
age.

Thus, in consequence of his own strange self-neglect and imprudence,
was extinguished one of the most richly-stored minds that ever lived.
Occurring when it did, so near the last summons, Gibbon's prospective
hope of continued life "for ten, twelve, or twenty years" is harshly
pathetic, and full of that irony which mocks the vain cares of men.
But, truly, his forecast was not irrational if he had not neglected
ordinary precautions. In spite of his ailments he felt full, and was
full, of life, when he was cut off. We cannot be sure if lengthened
days would have added much to his work already achieved. There is
hardly a parallel case in literature of the great powers of a whole
life being so concentrated on one supreme and magnificent effort. Yet,
if he had lived to 1804, or as an extreme limit, to 1814, we should
have been all gainers. In the first place, he certainly would have
finished his admirable autobiography. We cannot imagine what he would
have made of it, judging from the fragment which exists. And yet that
fragment is almost a masterpiece. But his fertile mind had other
schemes in prospect; and what such a diligent worker would have done
with a decade or two more of years it is impossible to say, except
that it is certain they would not have been wasted. The extinction of
a real mind is ever an irreparable loss.

As it was, he went to his rest after one of the greatest victories
ever achieved in his own field of humane letters, and lived long
enough to taste the fruits of his toil. He was never puffed up, but
soberly and without arrogance received his laurels. His unselfish zeal
and haste to console his bereaved friend showed him warm and loving to
the last; and we may say that his last serious effort was consecrated
to the genius of pious friendship.

In 1796, two years after Gibbon's death, Lord Sheffield published two
quarto volumes of the historian's miscellaneous works. They have been
republished in one thick octavo, and many persons suppose that it
contains the whole of the posthumous works; not unnaturally, as a
fraudulent statement on the title-page, "complete in one volume," is
well calculated to produce that impression. But in 1814 Lord Sheffield
issued a second edition in five volumes octavo, containing much
additional matter, which additional matter was again published in a
quarto form, no doubt for the convenience of the purchasers of the
original quarto edition.

Of the posthumous works, the Memoirs are by far the most important
portion. Unfortunately, they were left in a most unfinished state, and
what we now read is nothing else than a mosaic put together by Lord
Sheffield from _six_ different sketches. Next to the Memoirs are the
journals and diaries of his studies. As a picture of Gibbon's method,
zeal, and thoroughness in the pursuit of knowledge, they are of the
highest interest. But they refer to an early period of his studies,
long previous to the concentration of his mind on his great work, and
one would like to know whether they present the best selection that
might have been made from these records. It is interesting to follow
Gibbon in his perusal of Homer and Juvenal at five-and-twenty. But one
would much like to be admitted to his study when he was a far riper
scholar, and preparing for or writing the _Decline and Fall_. Lord
Sheffield positively prohibited, by a clause in his will, any further
publication of the Gibbon papers, and although Dean Milman was
permitted to see them, it was with the express understanding that none
of their contents should be divulged. After the Memoirs and the
journals, the most interesting portion of the miscellaneous works are
_The Antiquities of the House of Brunswick_, which in their present
form are merely the preparatory sketch of a large work. It is too
imperfect to allow us to judge of what Gibbon even designed to make of
it. But it contains some masterly pages, and the style in many places
seems more nervous and supple than that of the _Decline and Fall._

For instance, this account of Albert Azo the Second:--

     "Like one of his Tuscan ancestors Azo the Second was
     distinguished among the princes of Italy by the epithet of
     the _Rich_. The particulars of his rentroll cannot now be
     ascertained. An occasional though authentic deed of
     investiture enumerates eighty-three fiefs or manors which he
     held of the empire in Lombardy and Tuscany, from the
     Marquisate of Este to the county of Luni; but to these
     possessions must be added the lands which he enjoyed as the
     vassal of the Church, the ancient patrimony of Otbert (the
     terra Obertenga) in the counties of Arezzo, Pisa, and Lucca,
     and the marriage portion of his first wife, which, according
     to the various readings of the manuscripts, may be computed
     either at twenty or two hundred thousand English acres. If
     such a mass of landed property were now accumulated on the
     head of an Italian nobleman, the annual revenue might
     satisfy the largest demands of private luxury or avarice,
     and the fortunate owner would be rich in the improvement of
     agriculture, the manufactures of industry, the refinement of
     taste, and the extent of commerce. But the barbarism of the
     eleventh century diminished the income and aggravated the
     expense of the Marquis of Este. In a long series of war and
     anarchy, man and the works of man had been swept away, and
     the introduction of each ferocious and idle stranger had
     been overbalanced by the loss of five or six perhaps of the
     peaceful industrious natives. The mischievous growth of
     vegetation, the frequent inundations of the rivers were no
     longer checked by the vigilance of labour; the face of the
     country was again covered with forests and morasses; of the
     vast domains which acknowledged Azo for their lord, the far
     greater part was abandoned to the beasts of the field, and a
     much smaller portion was reduced to the state of constant
     and productive husbandry. An adequate rent may be obtained
     from the skill and substance of a free tenant who fertilizes
     a grateful soil, and enjoys the security and benefit of a
     long lease. But faint is the hope and scanty is the produce
     of those harvests which are raised by the reluctant toil of
     peasants and slaves condemned to a bare subsistance and
     careless of the interests of a rapacious master. If his
     granaries are full, his purse is empty, and the want of
     cities or commerce, the difficulty of finding or reaching a
     market, obliges him to consume on the spot a part of his
     useless stock, which cannot be exchanged for merchandise or
     money.... The entertainment of his vassals and soldiers,
     their pay and rewards, their arms and horses, surpassed the
     measure of the most oppressive tribute, and the destruction
     which he inflicted on his neighbours was often retaliated on
     his own lands. The costly elegance of palaces and gardens
     was superseded by the laborious and expensive construction
     of strong castles on the summits of the most inaccessible
     rocks, and some of these, like the fortress of Canossa in
     the Apennine, were built and provided to sustain a three
     years' siege against a royal army. But his defence in this
     world was less burdensome to a wealthy lord than his
     salvation in the next; the demands of his chapel, his
     priests, his alms, his offerings, his pilgrimages were
     incessantly renewed; the monastery chosen for his sepulchre
     was endowed with his fairest possessions, and the naked heir
     might often complain that his father's sins had been
     redeemed at too high a price. The Marquis Azo was not exempt
     from the contagion of the times; his devotion was animated
     and inflamed by the frequent miracles that were performed in
     his presence; and the monks of Vangadizza, who yielded to
     his request the arm of a dead saint, were not ignorant of
     the value of that inestimable jewel. After satisfying the
     demands of war and superstition he might appropriate the
     rest of his revenue to use and pleasure. But the Italians of
     the eleventh century were imperfectly skilled in the liberal
     and mechanical arts; the objects of foreign luxury were
     furnished at an exorbitant price by the merchants of Pisa
     and Venice; and the superfluous wealth which could not
     purchase the real comforts of life, were idly wasted on some
     rare occasions of vanity and pomp. Such were the nuptials of
     Boniface, Duke or Marquis of Tuscany, whose family was long
     after united with that of Azo by the marriage of their
     children. These nuptials were celebrated on the banks of the
     Mincius, which the fancy of Virgil has decorated with a more
     beautiful picture. The princes and people of Italy were
     invited to the feasts, which continued three months; the
     fertile meadows, which are intersected by the slow and
     winding course of the river, were covered with innumerable
     tents, and the bridegroom displayed and diversified the
     scenes of his proud and tasteless magnificence. All the
     utensils of the service were of silver, and his horses were
     shod with plates of the same metal, loosely nailed and
     carelessly dropped, to indicate his contempt of riches. An
     image of plenty and profusion was expressed in the banquet;
     the most delicious wines were drawn in buckets from the
     well; and the spices of the East were ground in water-mills
     like common flour. The dramatic and musical arts were in the
     rudest state; but the Marquis had summoned the most popular
     singers, harpers, and buffoons to exercise their talents in
     this splendid theatre. After this festival I might remark a
     singular gift of this same Boniface to the Emperor Henry
     III., a chariot and oxen of solid silver, which were
     designed only as a vehicle for a hogshead of vinegar. If
     such an example should seem above the imitation of Azo
     himself, the Marquis of Este was at least superior in wealth
     and dignity to the vassals of his compeer. One of these
     vassals, the Viscount of Mantua, presented the German
     monarch with one hundred falcons and one hundred bay horses,
     a grateful contribution to the pleasures of a royal
     sportsman. In that age the proud distinction between the
     nobles and princes of Italy was guarded with jealous
     ceremony. The Viscount of Mantua had never been seated at
     the table of his immediate lord; he yielded to the
     invitation of the Emperor; and a stag's skin filled with
     pieces of gold was graciously accepted by the Marquis of
     Tuscany as the fine of his presumption.

     "The temporal felicity of Azo was crowned by the long
     possession of honour and riches; he died in the year 1097,
     aged upwards of an hundred years; and the term of his mortal
     existence was almost commensurate with the lapse of the
     eleventh century. The character as well as the situation of
     the Marquis of Este rendered him an actor in the revolutions
     of that memorable period; but time has cast a veil over the
     virtues and vices of the man, and I must be content to mark
     some of the eras, the milestones of his which measure the
     extent and intervals of the vacant way. Albert Azo the
     Second was no more than seventeen when he first drew the
     sword of rebellion and patriotism, when he was involved with
     his grandfather, his father, and his three uncles in a
     common proscription. In the vigour of his manhood, about his
     fiftieth year, the Ligurian Marquis governed the cities of
     Milan and Genoa as the minister of Imperial authority. He
     was upwards of seventy when he passed the Alps to vindicate
     the inheritance of Maine for the children of his second
     marriage. He became the friend and servant of Gregory VII.,
     and in one of his epistles that ambitious pontiff recommends
     the Marquis Azo, as the most faithful and best beloved of
     the Italian princes, as the proper channel through which a
     king of Hungary might convey his petitions to the apostolic
     throne. In the mighty contest between the crown and the
     mitre, the Marquis Azo and the Countess Matilda led the
     powers of Italy. And when the standard of St. Peter was
     displayed, neither the age of the one nor the sex of the
     other could detain them from the field. With these two
     affectionate clients the Pope maintained his station in the
     fortress of Canossa, while the Emperor, barefoot on the
     frozen ground, fasted and prayed three days at the foot of
     the rock; they were witnesses to the abject ceremony of the
     penance and pardon of Henry IV.; and in the triumph of the
     Church a patriot might foresee the deliverance of Italy from
     the German yoke. At the time of this event the Marquis of
     Este was above fourscore; but in the twenty following years
     he was still alive and active amidst the revolutions of
     peace and war. The last act which he subscribed is dated
     above a century after his birth; and in that the venerable
     chief possesses the command of his faculties, his family,
     and his fortune. In this rare prerogative the longevity of
     Albert Azo the Second stands alone. Nor can I remember in
     the _authentic_ annals of mortality a single example of a
     king or prince, of a statesman or general, of a philosopher
     or poet, whose life has been extended beyond the period of a
     hundred years.... Three approximations which will not
     hastily be matched have distinguished the present century,
     Aurungzebe, Cardinal Fleury, and Fontenelle. Had a fortnight
     more been given to the philosopher, he might have celebrated
     his secular festival; but the lives and labours of the Mogul
     king and the French minister were terminated before they had
     accomplished their ninetieth year."

Then follow several striking and graceful pages on Lucrezia Borgia and
Renée of France, Duchess of Ferrara. The following description of the
University of Padua and the literary tastes of the house of Este is
all that we can give here:--

     "An university had been founded at Padua by the house of
     Este, and the scholastic rust was polished away by the
     revival of the literature of Greece and Rome. The studies of
     Ferrara were directed by skilful and eloquent professors,
     either natives or foreigners. The ducal library was filled
     with a valuable collection of manuscripts and printed books,
     and as soon as twelve new plays of Plautus had been found in
     Germany, the Marquis Lionel of Este was impatient to obtain
     a fair and faithful copy of that ancient poet. Nor were
     these elegant pleasures confined to the learned world. Under
     the reign of Hercules I. a wooden theatre at a moderate
     cost of a thousand crowns was constructed in the largest
     court of the palace, the scenery represented some houses, a
     seaport and a ship, and the _Menechmi_ of Plautus, which had
     been translated into Italian by the Duke himself, was acted
     before a numerous and polite audience. In the same language
     and with the same success the _Amphytrion_ of Plautus and
     the _Eunuchus_ of Terence were successively exhibited. And
     these classic models, which formed the taste of the
     spectators, excited the emulation of the poets of the age.
     For the use of the court and theatre of Ferrara, Ariosto
     composed his comedies, which were often played with
     applause, which are still read with pleasure. And such was
     the enthusiasm of the new arts that one of the sons of
     Alphonso the First did not disdain to speak a prologue on
     the stage. In the legitimate forms of dramatic composition
     the Italians have not excelled; but it was in the court of
     Ferrara that they invented and refined the _pastoral
     comedy_, a romantic Arcadia which violates the truth of
     manners and the simplicity of nature, but which commands our
     indulgence by the elaborate luxury of eloquence and wit. The
     _Aminta_ of Tasso was written for the amusement and acted in
     the presence of Alphonso the Second, and his sister Leonora
     might apply to herself the language of a passion which
     disordered the reason without clouding the genius of her
     poetical lover. Of the numerous imitations, the _Pastor
     Fido_ of Guarini, which alone can vie with the fame and
     merit of the original, is the work of the Duke's secretary
     of state. It was exhibited in a private house in Ferrara....
     The father of the Tuscan muses, the sublime but unequal
     Dante, had pronounced that Ferrara was never honoured with
     the name of a poet; he would have been astonished to behold
     the chorus of bards, of melodious swans (their own
     allusion), which now peopled the banks of the Po. In the
     court of Duke Borso and his successor, Boyardo Count
     Scandiano, was respected as a noble, a soldier, and a
     scholar: his vigorous fancy first celebrated the loves and
     exploits of the paladin Orlando; and his fame has been
     preserved and eclipsed by the brighter glories and
     continuation of his work. Ferrara may boast that on classic
     ground Ariosto and Tasso lived and sung; that the lines of
     the _Orlando Furioso_, the _Gierusalemme Liberata_ were
     inscribed in everlasting characters under the eye of the
     First and Second Alphonso. In a period of near three
     thousand years, five great epic poets have arisen in the
     world, and it is a singular prerogative that two of the five
     should be claimed as their own by a short age and a petty
     state."

It perhaps will be admitted that if the style of these passages is
less elaborate than that of the _Decline and Fall_, the deficiency, if
it is one, is compensated by greater ease and lightness of touch.

It may be interesting to give a specimen of Gibbon's French style. His
command of that language was not inferior to his command of his native
idiom. One might even be inclined to say that his French prose is
controlled by a purer taste than his English prose. The following
excerpt, describing the Battle of Morgarten, will enable the reader to
judge. It is taken from his early unfinished work on the History of
the Swiss Republic, to which reference has already been made (p.
59):--

     "Léopold était parti de Zug vers le milieu de la nuit. Il se
     flattait d'occuper sans résistance le défilé de Morgarten
     qui ne perçait qu'avec difficulté entre le lac Aegré et le
     pied d'une montagne escarpée. Il marchait à la tête de sa
     gendarmerie. Une colonne profonde d'infanterie le suivait de
     près, et les uns et les autres se promettaient une victoire
     facile si les paysans osaient se présenter à leur rencontre.
     Ils étaient à peine entrés dans un chemin rude et étroit, et
     qui ne permettait qu'à trois ou quatre de marcher de front,
     qu'ils se sentirent accablés d'une grêle de pierres et de
     traits. Rodolphe de Reding, landamman de Schwitz et général
     des Confédérés, n'avait oublié aucun des avantages que lui
     offrit la situation des lieux. Il avait fait couper des
     rochers énormes, qui en s'ébranlant dès qu'on retirait les
     faibles appuis qui les retenaient encore, se détachaient du
     sommet de la montaigne et se précipitaient avec un bruit
     affreux sur les bataillons serrés des Autrichiens. Déjà les
     chevaux s'éffrayaient, les rangs se confondaient, et le
     désordre égarait le courage et le rendait inutile, lorsque
     les Suisses descendirent de la montagne en poussant de
     grands cris. Accoutumés à poursuivre le chamois sur les
     bords glissants des précipices, ils couraient d'un pas
     assuré au milieu des neiges. Ils étaient armés de grosses et
     pesantes hallebardes, auxquelles le fer le mieux trempé ne
     résistait point. Les soldats de Léopold chancelants et
     découragés cédèrent bientôt aux efforts désespérés d'une
     troupe qui combattait pour tout ce qu'il y a de plus cher
     aux hommes. L'Abbé d'Einsidlen, premier auteur de cette
     guerre malheureuse, et le comte Henri de Montfort, donnèrent
     les premiers l'example de la fuite. Le désordre devint
     général, le carnage fut affreux, et les Suisses se livraient
     au plaisir de la vengeance. A neuf heures du matin la
     bataille était gagnée.... Un grand nombre d'Autrichiens se
     précipitant les uns sur les autres, cherchèrent vainement
     dans le lac un asyle contre la fureur de leurs ennemis. Ils
     y périrent presque tous. Quinze cents hommes restèrent sur
     le champ de bataille. Ils étaient pour la plupart de la
     gendarmerie, qu'une valeur malheureuse et une armure pesante
     arrêtaient dans un lieu où l'un et l'autre leur étaient
     inutiles. Longtemps après l'on s'apercevait dans toutes les
     provinces voisines que l'élite de la noblesse avait péri
     dans cette fatale journée. L'infanterie beaucoup moins
     engagée dans le défilé, vit en tremblant la défaite des
     chevaliers qui passaient pour invincibles, et dont les
     escadrons effrayés se renversaient sur elle. Elle s'arrêta,
     voulut se retirer, et dans l'instant cette retraite devint
     une fuite honteuse. Sa perte fut assez peu considérable,
     mais les historiens de la nation ont conservé la mémoire de
     cinquante braves Zuriquois dont on trouva les rangs couchés
     morts sur la place. Léopold lui-même fut entrainé par la
     foule qui le portait du côté de Zug. On le vit entrer dans
     sa ville de Winterthur. La frayeur, la honte et
     l'indignation étaient encore peintes sur son front. Dès que
     la victoire se fut déclarée en faveur des Suisses, ils
     s'assemblèrent sur le champ de bataille, s'embrassèrent e
     versant des larmes d'allégresse, et remercièrent Dieu de la
     grace qu'il venait de leur faire, et qui ne leur avait coûté
     que quatorze de leurs compagnons."

His familiar letters and a number of essays, chiefly written in youth,
form the remainder of the miscellaneous works. Of the letters, some
have been quoted in this volume, and the reader can form his own
judgment of them. Of the small essays we may say that they augment, if
it is possible, one's notion of Gibbon's laborious diligence and
thoroughness in the field of historic research, and confirm his title
to the character of an intrepid student.

The lives of scholars are proverbially dull, and that of Gibbon is
hardly an exception to the rule. In the case of historians, the
protracted silent labour of preparation, followed by the conscientious
exposition of knowledge acquired, into which the intrusion of the
writer's personality rarely appears to advantage, combine to give
prominence to the work achieved, and to throw into the background the
author who achieves it. If indeed the historian, forsaking his high
function and austere reserve, succumbs to the temptations that beset
his path, and turns history into political pamphlet, poetic rhapsody,
moral epigram, or garish melodrama, he may become conspicuous to a
fault at the expense of his work. Gibbon avoided these seductions. If
the _Decline and Fall_ has no superior in historical literature, it is
not solely in consequence of Gibbon's profound learning, wide survey,
and masterly grasp of his subject. With wise discretion, he
subordinated himself to his task. The life of Gibbon is the less
interesting, but his work remains monumental and supreme.

ENGLISH MEN OF LETTERS.

EDITED BY JOHN MORLEY.

_These Short Books are addressed to the general public with a view
both to stirring and satisfying an interest in literature and its
great topics in the minds of those who have to run as they read. An
immense class is growing up, and must every year increase, whose
education will have made them alive to the importance of the masters
of our literature, and capable of intelligent curiosity as to their
performances. The Series is intended to give the means of nourishing
this curiosity, to an extent that shall be copious enough to be
profitable for knowledge and life, and yet be brief enough to serve
those whose leisure is scanty_.

_The following are arranged for_:--

_SPENSER_       _The Dean of St. Paul's._

_HUME_          _Professor Huxley._          _In the Press._

_BUNYAN_        _James Anthony Froude._

_JOHNSON_       _Leslie Stephen._            [_Ready._

_GOLDSMITH_     _William Black._             [_In the Press._

_MILTON_        _Mark Pattison._

_WORDSWORTH_    _Goldwin Smith._

_SWIFT_         _John Morley._

_BURNS_         _Principal Shairp._

_SCOTT_         _Richard H. Hutton._         [_Ready._

_SHELLEY_       _J. A. Symonds._             [_Ready._

_GIBBON_        _J. C. Morison._             [_Ready._

_BYRON_         _Professor Nichol._

_DEFOE_         _W. Minto._

_GRAY_          _John Morley._

[_OTHERS WILL BE ANNOUNCED_]

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.

     "The new series opens well with Mr. Leslie Stephen's sketch
     of Dr. Johnson. It could hardly have been done better; and
     it will convey to the readers for whom it is intended a
     juster estimate of Johnson than either of the two essays of
     Lord Macaulay."--_Pall Mall Gazette_.

     "We have come across few writers who have had a clearer
     insight into Johnson's character, or who have brought to the
     study of it a better knowledge of the time in which Johnson
     lived and the men whom he knew."--_Saturday Review_.

     "It must be admitted that Mr. Stephen has succeeded
     admirably in his task. No writer could be more competent to
     supply what is wanted in Boswell, a comprehensive sketch of
     his hero's position in the literature of the eighteenth
     century, and he has also shown great judgment and dexterity
     in his illustration of Johnson's personal oddities and his
     power as a talker.... All the traits of the personality
     which Boswell has immortalized are to be found here, as well
     as luminous sketches of the literature of the period, and a
     solid judgment of the work that Johnson did in the
     world."--_Examiner_.

     "We could not wish for a more suggestive introduction to
     Scott and his poems and novels."--_Examiner_.

     "The tone of the volume is excellent
     throughout."--_Athenæum_ Review of "Scott."

     "As a clear, thoughtful, and attractive record of the life
     and works of the greatest among the world's historians, it
     deserves the highest praise."--_Examiner_ Review of
     "Gibbon."

MACMILLAN'S GLOBE LIBRARY.

_Beautifully printed on toned paper and bound in cloth extra, gilt
edges, price 4s. 6d. each; in cloth plain, 3s. 6d. Also kept in a
variety of calf and morocco bindings, at moderate prices_.

     _The_ SATURDAY REVIEW _says: "The Globe Editions are
     admirable for their scholarly editing, their typographical
     excellence, their compendious form, and their cheapness."
     The_ BRITISH QUARTERLY REVIEW _says: "In compendiousness,
     elegance, and scholarliness the Globe Editions of Messrs.
     Macmillan surpass any popular series of our classics
     hitherto given to the public. As near an approach to
     miniature perfection as has ever been made_."

Shakespeare's Complete Works. Edited by W. G. CLARK, M.A., and W.
ALDIS WRIGHT, M.A., Editors of the "Cambridge Shakespeare." With
Glossary, pp. 1075.

     _The_ ATHENÆUM _says this edition is "a marvel of beauty,
     cheapness, and compactness.... For the busy man, above all
     for the working student, this is the best of all existing
     Shakespeares._"

Spenser's Complete Works. Edited from the Original Editions and
Manuscripts, by R. MORRIS, with a Memoir by J. W. HALES, M.A. With
Glossary. pp. lv., 736.

     "_Worthy--and higher praise it needs not--of the beautiful
     'Globe Series_'"--DAILY NEWS.

Sir Walter Scott's Poetical Works. Edited, with a Biographical and
Critical Memoir, by FRANCIS TURNER PALGRAVE, and Copious Notes. pp.
xliii., 559.

     "_We can almost sympathise with a middle-aged grumbler, who,
     after reading Mr. Palgrave's Memoir and Introduction, should
     exclaim, 'Why was there not such an edition of Scott when I
     was a schoolboy_?'"--GUARDIAN.

Complete Works of Robert Burns. Edited from the best Printed and
Manuscript authorities, with Glossarial Index, Notes, and a
Biographical Memoir by ALEXANDER SMITH, pp. lxii., 636.

     "_Admirable in all respects_."--SPECTATOR.

Robinson Crusoe. Edited after the Original Editions, with a
Biographical Introduction by HENRY KINGSLEY. pp. xxxi., 607.

     "_A most excellent and in every way desirable
     edition_."--COURT CIRCULAR.

Goldsmith's Miscellaneous Works. Edited with Biographical
Introduction, by Professor MASSON. pp. lx., 695.

     "_Such an admirable compendium of the facts of Goldsmith's
     life, and so careful and minute a delineation of the mixed
     traits of his peculiar character as to be a very model of a
     literary biography in little_."--SCOTSMAN.

Pope's Poetical Works. Edited, with Notes, and Introductory Memoir by
A. W. WARD, M.A., Professor of History in Owens College Manchester,
pp. lii., 508.

     _The_ LITERARY CHURCHMAN _remarks: "The Editor's own notes
     and introductory memoir are excellent, the memoir alone
     would be cheap and well worth buying at the price of the
     whole volume_."

Dryden's Poetical Works. Edited, with a Memoir, Revised Text, and
Notes, by W.D. CHRISTIE, M.A., of Trinity College, Cambridge, pp.
lxxxvii., 662.

     "_An admirable edition, the result of great research and of
     a careful revision of the text_."--PALL MALL GAZETTE.

Cowper's Poetical Works. Edited, with Notes and Biographical
Introduction, by WILLIAM BENHAM, Vicar of Margate, pp. lxxiii., 536.

     "_Mr. Benham's edition of Cowper is one of permanent
     value_."--SATURDAY REVIEW.

Morte d'Arthur.--SIR THOMAS MALORY'S BOOK OF KING ARTHUR AND OF HIS
NOBLE KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE. The original Edition of CAXTON,
revised for Modern Use. With an Introduction by Sir EDWARD STRACHEY,
Bart. pp. xxxvii., 509.

     "_It is with perfect confidence that we recommend this
     edition of the old romance to every class of
     readers_."--PALL MALL GAZETTE.

The Works of Virgil. Rendered into English Prose, with Introductions,
Notes, Running Analysis, and an Index. By JAMES LONSDALE, M.A., and
SAMUEL LEE, M.A. pp. 228.

     "_A more complete Edition of Virgil in English it is
     scarcely possible to conceive than the scholarly work before
     us_."--GLOBE.

The Works of Horace. Rendered into English Prose, with Introductions,
Running Analysis, Notes, and Index. By JOHN LONSDALE, M.A., and SAMUEL
LEE, M.A.

     _The_ STANDARD _says, "To classical and non-classical
     readers it will be invaluable_."

Milton's Poetical Works.--Edited, with Introductions, by Professor
MASSON.

     "_In every way an admirable book_."--PALL MALL GAZETTE.

MACMILLAN & CO., LONDON.