This is a reproduction of a book published before 1923. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process. We believe this work is culturally important, and despite the imperfections, have elected to bring it back into pri
This is a reproduction of a book published before 1923. This book may have occasional imperfections such as missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. that were either part of the original artifact, or were introduced by the scanning process. We believe this work is culturally important, and despite the imperfections, have elected to bring it back into print as part of our continuing commitment to the preservation of printed works worldwide. We appreciate your understanding of the imperfections in the preservation process, and hope you enjoy this valuable book.
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Hardcover
,
372 pages
Published
December 28th 1980
by Oxford University Press
(first published 1796)
Re-reading this has primed me for some more Austen. For six months
Persuasion
has been a brick in my bedside to-read tower, and at no point of that time have I found myself in the mood to read the novel. I’m in the mood now. In the lofty ironic style with which he traced the dissipation of Roman dynasties and the dispersion of Roman power, Gibbon recounts the household anxieties – and squalors and disasters – of three generations of precarious English gentry. There’s a general background of merc
Re-reading this has primed me for some more Austen. For six months
Persuasion
has been a brick in my bedside to-read tower, and at no point of that time have I found myself in the mood to read the novel. I’m in the mood now. In the lofty ironic style with which he traced the dissipation of Roman dynasties and the dispersion of Roman power, Gibbon recounts the household anxieties – and squalors and disasters – of three generations of precarious English gentry. There’s a general background of mercantile humiliation, cruel entail, and mortgaged rural seats. Gibbon’s father was a well meaning but hopelessly improvident patriarch who squandered much of his inheritance paying down lifelong debts contracted in a few short seasons of fashionable metropolitan appearance. His mother was one of those wives constantly impregnated until she died of it. Gibbon had a ghost family of siblings dead in their first months. Six male infants were successively christened “Edward” in hope that one might survive to carry his father’s name; and one did. “My five brothers, whose names may be found in the Parish register of Putney, I shall not pretend to lament…”
This is one of the great literary testaments (it exists in a number of incomplete manuscripts, combined differently by various editors; I think I first read Sheffield’s, in a textbook; this one was made by Georges Bonnard). Through sickliness and neglect and straitened finances Gibbon struggled to get an education, and beyond that a classical command of Greek and Latin; through abortive experiments to find his subject, to master the sources, and to find a style that had “the proper tone, the peculiar mode of historical eloquence,” “the middle tone between a dull Chronicle and a Rhetorical reclamation”; to build his library, and fund his independence (“I might say with truth that I was never less alone than when by myself”). Love and marriage are breezily, and probably sincerely dismissed. Studious bachelorhood was his perfect state.
Freedom is the first wish our heart; freedom is the first blessing of our nature: and, unless we bind ourselves with the voluntary chains of interest or passion, we advance in freedom as we advance in years.
As English stylists I have always associated Gibbon and Santayana. And now as men. Gibbon’s book made me slightly pity Santayana, who from the evidence of
Persons and Places
(published in 1944 by Scribners whose editors arranged to have the manuscript smuggled out of Axis Rome, where the middle-aged Santayana had settled in 1912 “after the fashion of the ancient philosophers, often in exile, but always in sight of the marketplace and the theatre”) had a much longer journey through family obligation and wage-earning to “solitude and independence,” “philosophic freedom,” worldly hermeticism.
I laughed when Gibbon revisited Lausanne. As a youthfully rebellious Catholic convert he had been confined to and deprogrammed in the house of a Protestant pastor there. There he had also mastered French, prepared his first compositions, and cut a respectable figure among the locals. During his second sojourn, drinking habits picked up in the army during the Seven Year’s War
betrayed me into some riotous acts of intemperance; and before my departure, I had deservedly forfeited the public opinion which had been acquired by the virtues of my better days.
There is much more to say about this book but I am tired.
On France:
But upon the whole I had reason to praise the national urbanity which from court has diffused its gentle influence to the shop, the cottage and the schools.
On the linguistic empire founded with England’s military-commercial one:
The conquests of the language and literature are not confined to Europe alone; and the writer who succeeds in London is speedily read on the banks of the Delaware and the Ganges.
On cutting a figure:
The miseries of a vacant life were never known to a man whose hours were insufficient for the inexhaustible pleasures of study. But I lamented, that at the proper age, I had not embraced the lucrative pursuits of law or of trade, the chances of civil office or India adventure, or even the fat slumbers of the Church…
On immortality:
In old age, the consolation of hope is reserved for the tenderness of parents, who commence a new life in their children; the faith of enthusiasts, who sing Hallelujahs above the clouds; and the vanity of authors, who presume the immortality of their name and writing.
By this point, I am much too enamored of Mr. Gibbon to be an impartial judge. I read his work with an almost religious awe. Indeed, Gibbon’s temper is almost that of a sage: not in his kindness or goodness, but in his calm curiosity.
It is a truism of psychology that negative experiences make more lasting impressions than positive ones; a man can remember perfectly the last fight with his wife, but not their last shared laugh. Thus, much daily cheerfulness is merely the result of a willful ignora
By this point, I am much too enamored of Mr. Gibbon to be an impartial judge. I read his work with an almost religious awe. Indeed, Gibbon’s temper is almost that of a sage: not in his kindness or goodness, but in his calm curiosity.
It is a truism of psychology that negative experiences make more lasting impressions than positive ones; a man can remember perfectly the last fight with his wife, but not their last shared laugh. Thus, much daily cheerfulness is merely the result of a willful ignorance of the foul things in life.
Gibbon is, if not unique, then at least in a rare class of individuals who naturally savor the good things in life, and do not dwell on the bad. This magnificent ability allowed him to survey the wastes of human history—with all of its slaughters, persecutions, and injustices—without becoming dreary or pessimistic. This is not to say that he does not give the horrors of history their proper weight; perhaps even the opposite is true: he spends many hours slowly unraveling the threads of barbarity that are interwoven with the decline of the Roman Empire. This is to say that, through this ignominious tapestry, Gibbon can always see a golden thread, not far off, glinting prettily.
Perhaps one could summarize Gibbon’s life as the triumph of curiosity over adversity. Gibbon is insatiable; this book, his memoirs, quite often takes the form of a list of books that he read. Gibbon desired to know, and this desire spurred him to greater and greater heights of erudition. And because Gibbon was so fascinated by human life, in all of its shades and colors, he can find something to interest him in any situation: whether it be the personality quirk of a queen, or a technicality in an ancient legal code. Gibbon is perhaps the greatest testament to the value of cultivating curiosity; for, once the love of learning is instilled, the dull world of cruelty and corruption becomes a garden of delight.
I cannot help but think that Gibbon’s ability to find interest in any human endeavor is connected with his ability to describe any human endeavor interestingly. As I’ve often remarked, Gibbon is an incomparable writer; and it seems, from his cheerful, calm temper, that the way he wrote mirrored the way he thought. (One of the more charming things we learn about Mr. Gibbon from these memoirs is that he composed every paragraph in his head before writing it down.) To see the world through Gibbon’s eyes is to see the world through Gibbon’s prose; and through that lens, every square inch of earth is full of beauty.
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for, once the love of learning is instilled, the dull world of cruelty and corruption becomes a garden of delight.
reminded of a
Excellent review! This
for, once the love of learning is instilled, the dull world of cruelty and corruption becomes a garden of delight.
reminded of a line from one of General Sherman's letters,
In treading upon the ashes of dead men in Italy, Egypt - on the banks of the Bosporus, one almost despairs to think how idle are the dreams and toils of this life, and were it not for the intellectual pleasure of knowing and learning, one would almost be damaged by travel in these historic lands.
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Oct 20, 2014 11:37PM
for, once the love of learning is instilled, the dull world of cruelty and corruption becomes a garden of delight.
r
Eric wrote: "Excellent review! This
for, once the love of learning is instilled, the dull world of cruelty and corruption becomes a garden of delight.
reminded of a line from one of General Sherman's letters,..."
Thanks! That was my feeble attempt to ape Gibbon's style. I'm glad at least the sentiment was endorsed by wiser men than I.
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Oct 21, 2014 06:15AM
What's not to love about a man who writes this well, even when he's not really trying, and gets more upset about intellectual arguments than he does about a faltering love life? Nothing not to love. Gibbon's life wasn't particularly eventful, but this prose would drag me through even a contemporary, 'trauma' filled memoir. Along the way he takes moderate shots at the university system, olde time religione, and the French. A very pleasant way to spend a few hours, in short. Particularly worth rea
What's not to love about a man who writes this well, even when he's not really trying, and gets more upset about intellectual arguments than he does about a faltering love life? Nothing not to love. Gibbon's life wasn't particularly eventful, but this prose would drag me through even a contemporary, 'trauma' filled memoir. Along the way he takes moderate shots at the university system, olde time religione, and the French. A very pleasant way to spend a few hours, in short. Particularly worth reading if you like Anthony Powell, since Gibbon's tone here comes very close to Powell's in both A Dance and his own autobiography.
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Edward Gibbon's short and entertaining autobiography, telling the story of his life and of how he wrote the Decline and Fall. The two chapters in which Gibbon describes the completion, publication and reception of the Decline and Fall ought to be essential reading for anyone planning a writing career. In particular, his reflections on completing the twenty-year project are poignant:
'It was on the night of the 27th of June 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last line o
Edward Gibbon's short and entertaining autobiography, telling the story of his life and of how he wrote the Decline and Fall. The two chapters in which Gibbon describes the completion, publication and reception of the Decline and Fall ought to be essential reading for anyone planning a writing career. In particular, his reflections on completing the twenty-year project are poignant:
'It was on the night of the 27th of June 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last line of the last page in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias . I will not dissemble the first emotions of joy on the recovery of my freedom, and, perhaps the establishment of my fame. But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy was spread over my mind by the idea that I had taken an everlasting leave of an old and agreeable companion, and that whatsoever might be the future fate of my history, the life of the historian must be short and precarious.'
There is lots more here as well: his political career (which was entirely the result of Gibbon's receipt of patronage - two different seats in parliament for pocket boroughs, and a junior government position which appears to have involved no actual duties in return for a large salary), his experience of Oxford (and some of his trenchant criticisms of the Oxbridge system remain valid), his reflections on living in Lausanne rather than London, his experience as an officer in the militia. Gibbon comes across as, of course, tremendously intelligent, but also rather modest with it: he is conscious of some of the flaws of Decline and Fall, but claims that his own satisfaction at a job well done is more important than public praise or condemnation, though at the same time praise is always welcome. He expresses the vague hope, in 1791, that people will still read his work in a hundred years' time. I was reading this aloud to Anne as she drove us home from England yesterday, and I found I had got something in my eye, also affecting my throat, as I got to the end:
'The present is a fleeting moment, the past is no more; and our prospect of futurity is dark and doubtful. This day may possibly be my last: but the laws of probability, so true in general, so fallacious in particular, still allow about fifteen years.... The warm desires, the long expectations of youth, are founded on the ignorance of themselves and of the world: they are gradually damped by time and experience, by disappointment and possession; and after the middle season the crowd must be content to remain at the foot of the mountain; while the few who have climbed the summit aspire to descend or expect to fall. In old age, the consolation of hope is reserved for the tenderness of parents, who commence a new life in their children; the faith of enthusiasts, who sing Hallelujahs above the clouds; and the vanity of authors, who presume the immortality of their name and writing.'
The Penguin edition is not the text made famous by Gibbon's friend Lord Sheffield, but a new (well, 1983) treatment of the manuscripts by Penguin's editor Betty Radice, who steps from behind the curtain and explains her methodology in an interesting introduction. Well worth getting.
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The last third or so of this book was just wonderful. The first two thirds are taken up with family history and correcting the record about Gibbon's dalliance with Roman Catholicism. I found myself reading a few pages and then finding other things to do. But then he gets to his Roman history, backbenching in Parliament, and retirement to Lausanne, and the prose (which had been a delight throughout) finally had a reason for being.
This is not a book of great wisdom or even deep insight (into ones
The last third or so of this book was just wonderful. The first two thirds are taken up with family history and correcting the record about Gibbon's dalliance with Roman Catholicism. I found myself reading a few pages and then finding other things to do. But then he gets to his Roman history, backbenching in Parliament, and retirement to Lausanne, and the prose (which had been a delight throughout) finally had a reason for being.
This is not a book of great wisdom or even deep insight (into oneself or history or whatever). It puts Gibbon squarely into his own time, from his family's associations with Walpole to his own exchanges with Burke, Hume, and other Significant Men. Gibbon has some real snark for his critics and real praise for his friends, and when he concludes (spoiler!) that his life has been overwhelmingly fortunate, one realizes how great it is to read a memoir that isn't all complaint and victimhood and mere score-settling.
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Most famous line? Ordered by his father to abandon his One True Love, Gibbon says, "I sighed as a lover, I obeyed as a son." The World's Greatest Historian was not altogether like you and me. Of course that may help explain why we are not the World's Greatest Historians.
As Gibbon related, "a sincere and simple narrative of my own life may amuse some of my leisure hours, but it will subject me, and perhaps with justice, to the imputation of vanity." But far from vanity, Gibbon, engages his readers in what only can be described as a hand to mouth life until after his "History of the Decline..." which won him both fame and fortune. It becomes clear what the world would be like if FDR had not provided Social Security, and how Gibbon was not able to beget children d
As Gibbon related, "a sincere and simple narrative of my own life may amuse some of my leisure hours, but it will subject me, and perhaps with justice, to the imputation of vanity." But far from vanity, Gibbon, engages his readers in what only can be described as a hand to mouth life until after his "History of the Decline..." which won him both fame and fortune. It becomes clear what the world would be like if FDR had not provided Social Security, and how Gibbon was not able to beget children due to his constant scrimping and saving.
I did love it that Gibbon chose to live in France for a good amount of time, mainly that time when his epic history of Rome, which also included a strong factual account of Christianity, which was not pleasing to most Englishmen.
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This is a fine autobiography, and probably of some interest if you're reading Decline and Fall, since it sheds some interesting light on Gibbon's intellectual development and unique life story and how he came to write his masterpiece.
Remarkable person who was almost entirely self educated. Great insights into how to educate yourself in the Roman and Greek classics and how intellectuals in the neoclassical era interacted and developed.
Read this in college in a seminar on the history of how history has been studied and historiography. Of all the classes I took in college, this was one of the best. I still have a copy.
Edward Gibbon (8 May 1737 – 16 January 1794) was an English historian and Member of Parliament. His most important work, The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, was published in six volumes between 1776 and 1788. The Decline and Fall is known for the quality and irony of its prose, its use of primary sources, and its open criticism of organised religion.
Gibbon returned to England
Edward Gibbon (8 May 1737 – 16 January 1794) was an English historian and Member of Parliament. His most important work, The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, was published in six volumes between 1776 and 1788. The Decline and Fall is known for the quality and irony of its prose, its use of primary sources, and its open criticism of organised religion.
Gibbon returned to England in June 1765. His father died in 1770, and after tending to the estate, which was by no means in good condition, there remained quite enough for Gibbon to settle fashionably in London at 7 Bentinck Street, independent of financial concerns. By February 1773, he was writing in earnest, but not without the occasional self-imposed distraction. He took to London society quite easily, joined the better social clubs, including Dr. Johnson's Literary Club, and looked in from time to time on his friend Holroyd in Sussex. He succeeded Oliver Goldsmith at the Royal Academy as 'professor in ancient history' (honorary but prestigious). In late 1774, he was initiated a freemason of the Premier Grand Lodge of England. And, perhaps least productively in that same year, he was returned to the House of Commons for Liskeard, Cornwall through the intervention of his relative and patron, Edward Eliot. He became the archetypal back-bencher, benignly "mute" and "indifferent," his support of the Whig ministry invariably automatic. Gibbon's indolence in that position, perhaps fully intentional, subtracted little from the progress of his writing.
After several rewrites, with Gibbon "often tempted to throw away the labours of seven years," the first volume of what would become his life's major achievement, The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, was published on 17 February 1776. Through 1777, the reading public eagerly consumed three editions for which Gibbon was rewarded handsomely: two-thirds of the profits amounting to approximately £1,000. Biographer Leslie Stephen wrote that thereafter, "His fame was as rapid as it has been lasting." And as regards this first volume, "Some warm praise from David Hume overpaid the labour of ten years."
Volumes II and III appeared on 1 March 1781, eventually rising "to a level with the previous volume in general esteem." Volume IV was finished in June 1784; the final two were completed during a second Lausanne sojourn (September 1783 to August 1787) where Gibbon reunited with his friend Deyverdun in leisurely comfort. By early 1787, he was "straining for the goal" and with great relief the project was finished in June. Gibbon later wrote:
It was on the day, or rather the night, of 27 June 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page in a summer-house in my garden. ... I will not dissemble the first emotions of joy on the recovery of my freedom, and perhaps the establishment of my fame. But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy was spread over my mind by the idea that I had taken my everlasting leave of an old and agreeable companion, and that, whatsoever might be the future date of my history, the life of the historian must be short and precarious.
Volumes IV, V, and VI finally reached the press in May 1788, their publication having been delayed since March so it could coincide with a dinner party celebrating Gibbon's 51st birthday (the 8th). Mounting a bandwagon of praise for the later volumes were such contemporary luminaries as Adam Smith, William Robertson, Adam Ferguson, Lord Camden, and Horace Walpole. Smith remarked that Gibbon's triumph had positioned him "at the very head of [Europe's] literary tribe."
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“To a lover of books the shops and sales in London present irresistible temptations.”
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“... but I must reluctantly observe that two causes, the abbreviation of time, and the failure of hope, will always tinge with a browner shade the evening of life.”
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