In 1763 he again visited the continent. From Paris he proceeded to Lausanne, where he formed acquaintance with Mr Holroyd, afterwards Lord Sheffield, who subsequently became the editor of his works. After a stay of eleven months amongst his old friends, he proceeded to Italy. It was at Rome, as "he sat musing amongst the ruins of the capitol, while the bare-footed friars were singing vespers in the temple of Jupiter, the idea of writing the decline and fall of the city first started to his mind." He returned from Italy in 1765, and again entered the militia-to please his father-as lieutenant-colonel commandant; but resigned the situation on the death of his father, in 1770. The interval between these periods was passed by him, partly in the country, and partly in London, where, in conjunction with other travellers, he established a weekly convivial meeting under the name of The Roman Club.' Alluding to this period of his life, he says, "I lamented that, at the proper age, I had not embraced the lucrative pursuits of the law or of trade, the chances of civil office or India adventure, or even the fat slumbers of the church." Still his active mind was making fresh acquisitions, all of a kind which fitted him for his great approaching task. By way of preparatory trial, perhaps, in the winter of 1767, he sketched the first book of a History of the Revolution in Switzerland; in the same year, in conjunction with a learned Swiss, he published a few Nos. of a literary periodical in French, under the title Memoires Literaires de la Grand Bretagne.' His next performance was 'Critical Observations on the Sixth book of the Æneid.' The object of this tract was to confute the arrogant Warburton in his hypothesis of the descent of Æneas to hell. It was an easy task in competent hands; but the selection of such an antagonist indicated great confidence in his own powers on the part of Gibbon. In 1775 Gibbon was elected member of parliament for Liskeard. He was now actively engaged upon his great work, and did not allow his new duties to encroach greatly upon his historical labours. "At the outset," he says, "all was dark and doubtful; even the title of the work, the true era of the decline and fall of the empire, the limits of the introduction, the division of the chapters, and the order of the narrative; and I was often tempted to cast away the labour of seven years;" "three times did I compose the first chapter, and twice the second and third, before I was tolerably certain of their effect." At length, on the 17th of February, 1776, the first volume of 'The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire' was given to the public. Its success was instantaneous and decided; congratulations were showered upon him from every side; and, what gratified him most, both Hume and Robertson hastened to compliment him on his performance. A very able writer in the Eclectic Review,' in an elaborate and pious article upon Gibbon's Miscellaneous Works,' has given it as his opinion that our historian had a decided advantage over his two great contemporaries in his subject. "It would be mere waste of time," says he, "to do more than solicit the attention of our readers to the question, in order to convince them how far a history of England, or that of a single though striking reign in the annals of Scotland, or even that of the hero Charles V. and the Reformation, with the noble appendage of America,-how far such subjects are excelled in grandeur by the 'Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Whatever relates to the fortunes of that immense political fabric, must necessarily command the attention of every reader, merely because it does relate to it. For, should we even suppose one so igno rant as barely to know, in general, that so vast and powerful an empire did once exist in a state of enviable prosperity, and that at present scarce a vestige of it remains, with what silent attention would he listen to the narration of that man who should engage to lead him, step by step, through every intermediate scene of decay, from the one state to the other! But, if we suppose the reader to be possessed of some literature, who then can describe with what breathless eagerness of expectation such a one would attend a companion, who should offer to conduct him in safety, through the almost chaotic gulf which separates the two smiling regions of Ancient and Modern history? And, what adds much to our author's merit in this instance, his subject did not fall to him by chance. It was his own deliberate choice. It will appear from the publication now before us how long he hesitated, how profoundly he meditated, how often he tried, how many other subjects he adopted and rejected, before he finally fixed upon that which now furnishes so solid a foundation for his fame. A devout mind may even be pardoned for starting the question, whether the subject were not designed him by Divine Providence, so evidently were his studies directed to his great object, long before it became his decided choice. And, as the accidental fall of an apple supplied our immortal philosopher with the first germ of his theory of universal gravitation, so did the accidental contemplation of the Eternal City in ruins generate in the mind of our great historian the first clear hint of pursuing her, through her gradual fall, from the height of power and majesty to that state of feebleness and neglect in which he then beheld her." Mr Gibbon was not, however, permitted to enjoy his laurels in peace. His disingenuous attack upon Christianity, contained in the 15th and 16th chapters of his history, called up a host of indignant vindicators of religion, amongst whom were Dr Watson, afterwards bishop of Landaff, Mr Davis of Oxford, Dr Priestley, and Sir David Dalrymple. The historian affected to treat them all with contempt, with the exception of Dr Watson, whose unanswerable Apology for Christianity' compelled his respect as well as defied his powers of refutation. his task. On the dissolution of North's ministry, Gibbon turned his thoughts again towards Lausanne; and, in September 1783, he once more established himself at that favourite spot with his library around him, which he brought from England for the purpose of completing his history before he should return to his native country. In four years he completed "It was," he says, "on the day, or rather night, of the 27th of June, 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page, in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, and all nature was silent. I will not dissemble the first emotions of joy, on the recovery of my freedom, and, perhaps, the establishment of my fame. But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy 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 date of my history, 221 the life of the author might be short and precarious. I will add two facts, which have seldom occurred in the composition of six, or at least five, quartos: First-My rough manuscript, without any intermediate copy, has been sent to press. Second-Not a sheet has been seen by any human eyes, excepting those of the author and the printer. The faults and merits are exclusively his own." With the manuscript copy of these volumes he set out for England, where he remained until their publication, a few weeks after which he again returned to Lausanne, probably intending to spend the remainder of his life there. From this resolution, however, the events of the French revolution appear to have deterred him. He again returned to England in May, 1793. Towards the close of that year he became seriously diseased by hydrocele, the result of an old rupture, under the effects of which he suddenly sank on the 15th of January, 1794. We cannot sum up our historian's merits in a more useful and satisfactory manner than in the language of the Eclectic reviewer already quoted: "If the historian would be luminous," says this anonymous writer, "he must be quite familiar with his subject. The pages of Gibbon have been pronounced luminous by no trifling authority, and that in the presence of an august assembly, whose undissenting silence may be taken for assent. Judge, then, what powers, as well as labours, are supposed before a man can be thoroughly acquainted with such an extent of story, so diversified in whatever can diversify a subject of that kind. Our other historians had indeed some variety of laws and manners to contend with; but, after all, the one never goes far out of England, and the other rarely for any length of time leaves the precincts of modern Europe; (for when we are speaking of events properly historical, America must be put out of the question;) while Gibbon, besides what relates to other parts of the world, had to trace Europe through a total and radical change in its religion, its geography, and its languages. With what prodigious diversity of manners was he bound to make himself familiar, who had a subject so various and extensive to illustrate. When Robertson at one time proposed taking for his subject the age of Leo X. and the revival of arts, he was soon induced to lay aside all thought of it, when reminded by his friend Hume, that he could not possibly have or acquire the intimate acquaintance with the imitative arts, which he would find absolutely requisite, if he would do perfect justice to his subject. How many subjects of equal difficulty with this had Gibbon to study, before he could worthily commence historian of the Roman empire. But then, he made the best possible use of his time and opportunities. In the closet he read and extracted books; in society he observed and studied men; and even when engaged in the camp as a militia-officer, he embraced the occasion of making himself familiar with military tactics. One subject, and only one, he never examined to the bottom; but on the head of religion, as we shall treat it at large hereafter, we shall say no more at present. But what, after all, is the real state of the case? Is Mr Gibbon indeed a luminous writer? In some respects undoubtedly he is; in others, If we attend to the the praise of luminousness must be refused him. different branches of his subject, by the light of the Roman critic's rule - cui lecta potenter erit res, Nec facundia deseret hunc, nec lucidus ordo;' 222 LITERARY SERIES. [EIGHTH we shall be enabled to make the requisite distinction. There are two points of view in which he was sufficiently versed in the scenes he describes to treat them luminously. On the grand and leading features of his history he appears to have profoundly meditated, until they presented themselves to his mind in the clearest and most distinct order. What may be termed the separate acts of the piece, are indeed exhibited in a masterly manner. As specimens we would adduce the preliminary survey of the Roman empire in its prosperity: likewise the manner in which the connection is traced between that empire and the new Persian; the various migrations of the Goths and Vandals, and especially those of the Huns. It is impossible to have read Gibbon, without obtaining an increased clearness in our view of the several grand changes of the civilized world, by means of which ancient and modern history are linked together. Again: by indefatigable study of such writers as describe the manners and customs of the several countries and ages, which constitute the varying scene of his history, he had become so intimately acquainted with the modes of thinking and acting peculiar to those times and countries, as to have almost attained the clearness of a contemporary author. He enters, and enables his reader to enter, not into the thoughts only, but into the very feelings of the different characters which he describes. A familiar acquaintance of the emperor Julian, for instance, could scarcely have described with greater precision whatever constitutes the chief interest of that important reign. But in what may more properly be called historical painting, he is not equally happy. Rarely does he present to us those affecting pictures in which a whole train of action seems to pass before our eyes. In this respect he is greatly inferior to his two northern rivals. Their histories are read with an interest which is quite independent on the desire of information. We are imperceptibly drawn along by the mere charm of the story; and, having once entered upon their works, cannot easily be persuaded to lay them aside. But Gibbon is read as a task; a pleasing task indeed, at times perhaps an engaging one, but still a task." "Of the style of our author," says the same critic, "the prevalent feature is art. Not only is it highly laboured, but it exhibits marks of art and labour in its whole structure. Mr Gibbon's acknowledged character as a writer, among his friends, seems to have been, that there was no thought, however original or complicated, which he could not force to assume a decent verbal dress: If you have thoughts and can't express them, was said of him by those who knew him well. But he did not possess what is justly considered as the perfection of art, the talent of concealing it. In all his works, and especially in his history, the traces of the tool are every where visible. He appears to have taken Tacitus for his model, and like that author, to have aimed continually at making his words say as much as possible. It is indeed astonishing, how he contrives to express the minutest shade of a thought, by an unusual collocation, or more emphatic use of common words; and what a multiplicity of views he has the art to combine in the same sentence. His vindication of himself against the misinterpretation of some of his phrases, gave him an opportunity of pointing out in those particular cases, how very delicately they were poised. We may give as an instance the word accused, which, according to his own explanation, was purposely employed without addition, to signify that the martyr Nemesion might or might not be guilty of robbery. The bishop Eusebius presumed, on the authority of the centurion under whom the reputed delinquent served, that he was innocent; the Pagan magistrate who passed sentence upon him, presumed, as a Pagan, that he was guilty. One thing only was certain-he was accused. But Mr Gibbon's style, to be rightly and fully appreciated, ought to be studied. A single reading will seldom give us a thorough conception of all he means to convey. On a repeated perusal, when the whole connexion has become tolerably familiar to the mind, new light breaks in upon us; and we are surprised to find the entire thought, with all its appurtenances, much richer than we had at first apprehended." Robert Burns. BORN A. D. 1759.-DIED A. D. 1796. ROBERT BURNS was born on the 25th day of January, 1759, in the parish of Alloway, a short distance from the town of Ayr in Scotland. He was of humble parentage, his father being a small farmer, who won his bread by the daily labour of his own hands. In his sixth year, Robert, the eldest child of the family, was sent to school, where he was taught to read and write, and became a good English scholar, though, to use his own words, "it cost the schoolmaster some thrashings.' To these acquirements he afterwards added a knowledge of French, together with the elements of Latin and Geometry. He early evinced a taste for reading, in which it was his good fortune to be encouraged by his parents, who, though poor and struggling hard to maintain their family, knew and appreciated the value of knowledge, and were nobly solicitous to bestow a decent education on their children. Among the books which our future poet had read before he attained his 17th year, he has himself enumerated the following: Salmond's and Guthrie's Geographical Grammar, The Spectator, Tooke's Pantheon, Locke's Essay on the Understanding, Stackhouse's History of the Bible, British Gardener's Directory, Taylor's Scripture Doctrine of Original Sin, Hervey's Meditations, Derham's Physico and AstroTheology, and several of our English poets. The latter were the decided favourites in this list. Blind Harry's rude metrical Life of Sir William Wallace, and a Miscellaneous Collection of Songs, which had come into his possession, formed his earliest poetical readings. Allan Ramsay's Poems, including his exquisite pastoral of the Gentle Shepherd,' and the poems of Robert Fergusson, The Seasons' of Thomson, Pope's works, and some of Shakspeare's plays, were all greedily and oft perused by him, before he had ever composed a single stanza. He could not therefore be regarded as uneducated or illiterate; his mind was early stored with such knowledge as lay within his reach; he had as much learning, probably, as Shakspeare himself, to commence authorship upon; and better models than the immortal dramatist to |