43. Great scousers in history (part 1)

Here's an inspiring, brief biography of an inspiring, brief life. All the story of science that followed, from falling apples to men on the moon, is reflected at the moment an excited young clergyman rushes from his church, grasping a pocketbook of laboriously scribbled notes, toward a quiet spot where the dying light of the winter sun burns along the length of a brass telescope, standing patiently in the cold flat fields of West Lancashire.

"HORROCKS, JEREMIAH (1619-1641), an astronomer of extraordinary promise, blighted by a premature death, was born in 1619 at Toxteth Park, near Liverpool. Of the circumstances of his family little is known, further than that they were poor, but the register of Emmanuel College, Cambridge, testifies to his entry as sizar, May 18, 1632. Isolated in his scientific tastes, and painfully straitened in means, he pursued amid numerable difficulties his purpose of self-education. His university career lasted three years, and on his return to Lancashire he devoted to astronomical observations the brief intervals of leisure snatched from the harassing occupations of a laborious life. In 1636 he met with a congenial spirit in William Crabtree, a draper of Broughton, near Manchester ; and encouraged by his advice he exchanged the guidance of Lansberg, a pretentious but inaccurate Belgian astronomer, for that of Kepler. He now set himself to the revision of the Rudolphine Tables (Published by Kepler in 1627), and in the progress of his task became convinced that a transit of Venus overlooked by Kepler would nevertheless occur on the 24th of November (O.S.) 1639. He was at this time curate of Hoole, near Preston, having recently taken orders in the Church of England, although, according to the received accounts, he had not attained the canonical age. The 24th of November falling on a Sunday, his clerical duties threatened fatally to clash with his astronomical observations ; he was, however, released just in time to witness the punctual verification of his forecast, and carefully noted the progress of the phenomenon during half an hour before sunset (3.15 to 3.45). This transit of Venus is remarkable as the first ever observed, that of 1631 predicted by Kepler having been invisible in Europe. Notwithstanding the rude character of the apparatus at his disposal, Horrocks was enabled by his observation of it to introduce some important corrections into the elements of the planet's orbit, and to reduce to its exact value the received estimate of its apparent diameter.

After a year spent at Hoole, he returned to Toxteth, and there, on the eve of a long-promised visit to his friend Crabtree, unexpectedly expired, January 3, 1641, in the twenty-second year of his age. It is difficult to over-estimate the services which, had his life been prolonged, this singularly gifted youth might have rendered to astronomical science. To the inventive activity of the discoverer he already united the patient skill of the observer and the practical sagacity of the experimentalist. Before he was twenty he had afforded a specimen of his powers by an important contribution to the lunar theory. He first brought the revolutions of our satellite within the domain of Kepler's laws, pointing out that her apparent irregularities could be completely accounted for by supposing her to move in an ellipse with a variable eccentricity and directly rotatory major axis, of which the earth occupied one focus. These precise conditions were afterwards demonstrated by Newton to follow necessarily from the law of gravitation.

In his speculations as to the physical cause of the celestial motions, his mind, though not as yet wholly emancipated from the tyranny of gratuitous assumptions, was working steadily towards the light. He clearly perceived the significant analogy between terrestrial gravity and the force exerted in the solar system, and used an ingenious experiment to illustrate the composite character of the planetary movements. He also reduced the solar parallax to 14" (less than a quarter of Kepler's estimate), corrected the sun's semi-diameter to 15' 45", recommended decimal notation, and was the first to make tidal observations."

More, indeed probably all there is to find, can be read about this great, scouse pioneer of science at this page hosted by the University of Central Lancashire's Transit of Venus webpage. Unfortunately, if you missed it in 2004, it will be another 120 or so years before anyone can take the opportunity to repeat Jeremiah's historic observation. There are plaques and so forth to Horrock's memory at the Ancient Chapel of Toxteth (where he is presumed to have prayed and studied as a boy, and thought to have been buried in an unmarked grave), the nearby St Michael's church (the one with the pink tower), and opposite Newton's memorial in Westminster Abbey. Lower Lodge, where Horrocks is believed to have been born, stands no more, but was within spitting distance of Barleycorn Towers, where this electro-aetheric remembrance has been composed.

38. ii) Let us have faith that right makes might

John G. Nicolay provides a comprehensive biography of the celebrated Illinois lawyer, rail-splitter, and chicken-fight judge, which can only be done full justice by being read in full. I would then direct the curious to peruse your local library for a copy of Gore Vidal's Lincoln (presumably to be shortly reprinted if Mr Spielberg gets round to directing Liam Neeson in a cinematic adaptation), and to download the electronic text of Alexander K. McClure's Lincoln's Yarns and Stories: a complete collection of the funny and witty anecdotes that made Lincoln famous as America's greatest story teller.

As is standard practice in EB9's biographical essays, Nicolay's piece closes with a portrait of its subject, and is one of the more compelling examples of its kind. There might be more argument in Lincoln's case than Washington's as to whether events may have reached a more or less satisfactory conclusion in his absence, but even his sternest critics must concede that he was a man of unique ability, and who faced the challenges of his duty with unparalleled energy and dedication. At the very least, if cornball humour combined with a deep and brooding melancholy is your thing, then Lincoln, of all great men of history, is surely the most deserving of a place as a guest at one of those hypothetical dinner parties of the ages. I think I would probably seat him next to Richard Madely.

"President Lincoln was of unusual stature, 6 feet 4 inches, and of spare but muscular build ; he had been in youth remarkably strong and skilful in the athletic games of the frontier, where, however, his popularity and recognized impartially oftener made him an umpire than a champion. He had regular and prepossessing features, dark complexion, broad high forehead, prominent cheek bones, grey deep-set eyes, and bushy black-hair, turning to grey at the time of his death. Abstemious in his habits, he possessed great physical endurance. He was almost as tender-hearted as a woman. "I have not willingly planted a thorn in any man’s bosom," he was able to say. His patience was inexhaustible. He had naturally a most cheerful and sunny temper, was highly social and sympathetic, loved pleasant conversation, wit, anecdote, and laughter. Beneath this, however, ran an undercurrent of sadness ; he was occasionally subject to hours of deep silence and introspection that approached a condition of trance. In manner he was simple, direct, void of the least affectation, and entirely free from awkwardness, oddity, or eccentricity. His mental qualities were—a quick analytic perception, strong logical power, a tenacious memory, a liberal estimate and tolerance of the opinions of others, ready intuition of human nature ; and perhaps his most valuable faculty was rare ability to divest himself of all feeling or passion in weighing motives of persons or problems of state. His speech and diction were plain, terse, forcible. Relating anecdotes with appreciative humour and fascinating dramatic skill, he used them freely and effectively in conversation and argument. He loved manliness, truth, and justice. He despised all trickery and selfish greed. In arguments at the bar he was so fair to his opponent that he frequently appeared to concede away his client’s case. He was ever ready to take blame on himself and bestow praise on others. "I claim not to have controlled events," he said, "but confess plainly that events have controlled me." The Declaration of Independence was his political chart and inspiration. He acknowledged a universal equality of human rights. "Certainly the negro is not our equal in colour," he said, "perhaps not in many other respects; still, in the right to put his mouth the bread that his own hands have earned, he is the equal of every other man white or black." He had unchanging faith in self-government. "The people," he said, "are the rightful masters of both congresses and courts, not to overthrow the constitution, but to overthrow the men who pervert the constitution." Yielding and accommodating in non-essentials, he was inflexibly firm in a principle or position deliberately taken. "Let us have faith that right makes might," he said, "and in that faith let us to the end dare to do our duty as we understand it." The emancipation proclamation once issued, he reiterated his purpose never to retract or modify it. "There have been men base enough," he said, "to propose to me to return to slavery our black warriors of Port Hudson and Olustee, and thus win the respect of the masters they fought. Should I do so, I should deserve to be damned in time and eternity. Come what will, I will keep my faith with friend and foe." Benevolence and forgiveness were the very basis of his character ; his world-wide humanity is aptly embodied in a phrase of his second inaugural : "With malice toward none, with charity for all." His nature was deeply religious, but the belonged to no denomination ; he had faith in the eternal justice and boundless mercy of Providence, and made the golden rule of Christ his practical creed. History must accord him a rare sagacity in guiding a great people through the perils of a mighty revolution, an admirable singleness of aim, a skilful discernment and courageous seizure of the golden moment to free his nation from the incubus of slavery, faithful adherence to law and conscientious moderation in the use of power, a shining personal example of honesty and purity, and finally the possession of that subtle and indefinable magnetism by which he subordinated and directed dangerously disturbed and perverted moral and political forces to the restoration of peace and constitutional authority to his country, and the gift of liberty to four millions of human beings. Architect of his own fortunes, rising with every opportunity, mastering every emergency, fulfilling every duty, he not only proved himself pre-eminently the man for the hour, but the signal benefactor of posterity. As statesman, ruler, and liberator civilization will hold his name in perpetual honour."

38. i) The largest hands ever seen on a man

The heart of Barleycorn Towers is set to glow with the unearthly radiance of the cathode-ray tube throughout Tuesday night and Wednesday morning, as the presidential contest in our former colonies is followed through all the baroque twists and turns of its final, decisive (barring lawyerly appeals to the Supreme Court) hours. What better way to join the frenzy of excitement than by taking a look at the ninth edition of Encyclopaedia Britannica's portraits of some of the more notable past occupants of the throne of democracy? And where better to begin than with the wooden-toothed and giant-handed father of the nation himself?

"WASHINGTON, GEORGE (1732-1799), the first president of the United States, was born in Westmoreland county, Virginia, February 22 (Old Style, Feb. 11), 1732. One lawless genealogist has traced his ancestry back to Odin. [...]

"[H]is diaries show comparatively little reading, a minutely methodical conduct of business, a wide acquaintance with the leading men of the country, but no strong indications of what is usually considered to be "greatness." As in the case of Lincoln, he was educated into greatness by the increasing weight of his responsibilities and the manner in which he met them. [...]

"It is not easy to see how Washington survived the year 1775 ; the colonial poverty, the exasperating annoyances, the selfishness or stupidity which cropped out again and again from the most patriotic of his coadjutors, were enough to have broken down most men. They completed his training. The change in this one winter is very evident. If he was not a great man when he went to Cambridge, he was a general and a statesman in the best sense when he the British out of Boston in March 1776. From that time until his death he was the foremost man of the continent. [...]

"When the Federal Convention met at Philadelphia in May 1787 to frame the present constitution he was present as a delegate from Virginia, though much against his will; and a unanimous vote at once made him its presiding officer. He took no part in the debates, however, beyond such suggestive hints as his proposal to amend a restriction of the standing army to 5000 men by forbidding any enemy to invade the United States with more than 3000. He approved the constitution which was decided upon, believing, as he said, "that it was the best constitution which could be obtained at that epoch, and that this or a dissolution awaits our choice, and is the only alternative." [...]

" All the accounts agree that Washington was of imposing presence. He measured just 6 feet when prepared for burial ; but his height in his prime, as given in his orders for clothes from London, was 3 inches more. La Fayette says that his hands were "the largest he ever saw on a man." Custis says that his complexion was "fair, but considerably florid," His weight was about 220 lb. The various and widely-differing portraits of him find exhaustive treatment in the seventh volume of Winsor’s Narrative and Critical History of the United States. The editor thinks that "the favourite profile has been unquestionably Houdon’s, with Stuart’s canvas for the full face, and probably Trumbull’s for the figure." Stuart’s face, however, gives the popular notion of Washington, though it has always been a subject of curious speculation to some minds how much of the calm and benign expression of the face was due to the shape of Washington’s false teeth. [...]

"Washington’s disorder was an aedematous affection of the wind-pipe, contracted by careless exposure during a ride in a snow-storm, and aggravated by neglect afterwards, and by such contemporary remedies as excessive bleeding, gargles of "molasses, vinegar, and butter" and "vinegar and sage tea," which "almost suffocated him," and a blister of cantharides on the throat. He died without theatrical adieus ; his last words were only business directions, affectionate remembrances to relatives, and repeated apologies to the physicians and attendants for the trouble he was giving them. Just before he died, says his secretary, Mr Lear, he felt own pulse ; his countenance changed ; the attending physicians placed his hands over the eyes of the dying man, "and he expired without a struggle or a sigh.""

This article, by Alex. Johnston, Professor of Jurisprudence and Political Economy, Princeton College, N. J., is available in its entirety at www.1902encyclopedia.com

36. Wayward tendencies

Another instructive and colourful biography of a notable personage from the pages of the ninth edition of Encyclopaedia Britannica. If today's theatre or the screen can offer a personality to compare I would be surprised. As the article in its original form does not appear to be found elsewhere in Interwebshire, and as it contains the phrase "a thrilling sweetness like the witchery of the finest music," I present it here in full, without apology. A comparison with what I am assuming is the eleventh edition's reworking of this piece can be made by visiting this site.

"KEAN, EDMUND (1787 - 1833), an English actor, chiefly celebrated as an impersonator of Shakespearean characters, was born at Chancery Lane, London, November 4, 1787. His reputed father was Aaron Kean, stage carpenter, and his mother was a strolling actress, Ann Carey, grand-daughter of Henry Carey, the author of the National Anthem, and the natural son of George Savile, marquis of Halifax. When only in his fourth year Kean made his first appearance on the stage as Cupid in one of Noverre's ballets at the opera-house. His fine black eyes, his bright vivacity and cleverness, and his ready affection to those who treated him with kindness, made him in childhood a universal favourite, but the harsh circumstances of his lot, and the want of proper restraint, while they developed strong self-reliance, fostered wayward tendencies. About 1794 a few persons benevolently provided the means of sending him to school, where he mastered his tasks with remarkable ease and rapidity ; but finding its restraints intolerably irksome, he shipped himself as a cabin boy at Portsmouth. Soon discovering that he had only escaped to a more rigorous bondage, he counterfeited both deafness and lameness with a histrionic mastery which deceived even the physicians at Madeira. On his return to England he sought the protection of his uncle Moses Kean, mimic, ventriloquist, and general entertainer, who, besides continuing his pantomimic studies, introduced him to the study of Shakespeare. At the same time Miss Tidswell, an actress who had been specially kind to him from infancy, taught him the principals of acting. On the death of his uncle he was taken charge of by Miss Tidswell, and under her instruction he began the systematic study of the principal Shakespearean characters, displaying even at this early period the peculiar originality of his genius by interpretations entirely different from those of Kemble. His brilliant talents and interesting countenance induced a Mrs Clarke of Guildford Street, Russell Square, to adopt him, but the unlucky remark of a visitor so touched his sensitive pride that he suddenly left her house and went back to his old surroundings. In his fourteenth year he obtained an engagement to play leading characters for twenty nights in York Theatre, appearing as Hamlet, Hastings, and Cato. Shortly afterwards, while he was in the strolling troupe of Richardson, the rumour of his abilities reached the ear of King George III, who commanded him to recite at Windsor Castle. It is affirmed that this incident led some gentlemen to send him to Eton College ; but the next three years of his life, from 1803 to 1806, are without authentic record. In 1807 he played leading parts in the Belfast theatre along with Mrs Siddons, who said that he "played very well," but that "there was too little of him to make a great actor." An engagement in 1808 to play leading characters in Beverley's provincial troupe was brought to an abrupt close by his marriage with Miss Chambers, the leading actress, and for several years after his prospects were so dark that, when contemplating the possibility of a debut in London, he was in the habit of exclaiming, "If I succeed I shall go mad." In 1814, however, the committee of Drury Lane theatre, the fortunes of which were then so low that bankruptcy seemed inevitable, resolved to give him a chance among the "experiments" they were making to win a return of popularity. His debut there on the 26th January as Shylock roused the audience to almost uncontrollable enthusiasm, and successive appearances in Richard III., Hamlet, Othello, Macbeth, and Lear only served to demonstrate to the fullest the greatness of his powers and his complete mastery of the whole range of tragic emotion.

"Probably the irregular habits of Kean, even from the period when he became famous, were prejudiced to the refinement of his taste, and latterly they tended to exaggerate his special defects and mannerisms. The adverse decision in the divorce case Cox v. Kean, and his consequent separation from his wife, roused against him such bitter feeling as almost compelled him to retire permanently into private life. Ultimately he was received with all the old favour, but the contrast by its effects both on his bodily health and on his feelings had made him so dependent on the use of stimulants that the gradual deterioration of his gifts was inevitable. Still, even in their decay his great powers triumphed during the moments of his inspiration over the absolute wreck of his physical faculties, and compelled admiration when his gait had degenerated into a weak hobble, when the lightning brilliancy of his eyes had become dull and bloodshot, and the tones of his matchless voice were marred by rough and grating hoarseness. His last appearance on the stage was at Covent Garden, on the 25th March 1833, when he played Othello to his son's Iago. At the words "Villain, be sure" in scene 3 of act iii. he suddenly broke down, and fell insensible into his son's arms. He died at Richmond, 15th May 1833.

"It was especially in the impersonation of the great creations of Shakespeare's genius that the varied beauty and grandeur of the acting of Kean were displayed in their highest form, although probably his most powerful character was Sir Giles Overreach, the effect of his first impersonation of which was such that the pit rose en masse, and even the actors and actresses themselves were overcome by the terrific dramatic illusion. His only personal disadvantage as an actor was his small stature. His countenance was strikingly interesting and unusually mobile ; he had a matchless command of facial elocution ; his fine eyes scintillated even the slightest shades of emotion and thought ; his voice, though weak and harsh in the upper register, possessed in its lower range tones of penetrating and resistless power, and a thrilling sweetness like the witchery of the finest music ; above all, in the grander moments of his passion, his intellect and soul seemed to rise beyond material barriers and to glorify physical defects with their own greatness. In Othello, Iago, Shylock, and Richard III., characters utterly different from each other, but in which the predominant element is some form of passion, his identification with the personality, as he had conceived it, was as nearly as possible perfect, and each isolated phrase and aspect of the plot was elaborated with the minutest attention to details, and yet with an absolute subordination of these to the distinct individuality he was endeavouring to portray. If the range of character in which Kean had attained supreme excellence was narrow, no one except Garrick has been so successful in so many great impersonations. Unlike Garrick, he had no true talent for comedy, but in the expression of biting and saturnine wit, of grim and ghostly gaiety, he was unsurpassed."

25. Famed, honoured, and ultimately devoured

It is that magical time again, when around the globe the human race are united by staring at television sets for hours on end, as burly young men and women clad in lycra hop from foot to foot and compete earnestly in obscure athletic challenges, hoping to win the praise and adulation of their countrymen, before suffering their scowls and approbation once they fail a test for performance-enhancing chemicals. A fitting time for us to consider the fabulous career and unfortunate demise of one of the first great Olympians.

"MILO, one of the most famous athletes of Greece, whose name became proverbial for personal strength. He lived about the end of the 6th century B.C., was six times crowned at the Olympic games and six times at the Pythian for wrestling, and was famous throughout the civilized world for his feats of strength, such as carrying an ox on his shoulders through the stadium at Olympia. In his native city of Crotona he was much honoured, and he commanded the army which defeated the people of Sybaris in 511 B.C. When Democedes, the physician of Darius, deserted the Persian service, he sent a boastful message to the king of Persia informing him of his marriage to the daughter of Milo. The traditional account of his death is often used to point a moral : he found a tree which some woodcutters had partially split with a wedge, and attempted to render it asunder, but the wedge fell out, and the tree closed on his hand, imprisoning him till wolves came and devoured him."

22. (i) Freedom!

Having recently considered the depiction of the great conqueror Chinggis Khan in Mongol, I am led to ponder another cinematic portrayal of a martial hero, namely Mr Mel Columcille Gerard Gibson's iconic performance as the inspired guerrilla, William Wallace, in Braveheart.

Whilst not without its critics, Braveheart did (in addition to worldwide acclaim) prove popular with many Scots, in particular the leader of the Scottish Nationalist Party, Alex Salmond, who was outspoken in its praise. It has just topped a poll as the Greatest Scottish Movie of All Time (narrowly beating Trainspotting, then Whiskey Galore). This is difficult to swallow for those who are concerned about either the depiction of the period (eg - kilts and woad having no part in Scottish dress at that time), or the events (eg - pretty much everything in the movie), let alone the notion of Sgt Martin Riggs as the Knight of Elderslie.

There is some consolation for English viewers that at least we get The Prisoner portraying the Hammer of the Scots, a nice piece of casting that almost makes up for everything else, and which (along with a desire to see just how grossly distorted the Gibson history was) greatly motivated a younger self to learn everything I could about the reign of Edward I - more on whom some other day.

Even those Scots who simply enjoyed Braveheart as a rousing piece of English-bashing entertainment found the grotesque Mel Gibson statue that materialized in 1997 at the Wallace Monument something of an insult to national pride. In a recent, delightfully apt development, it seems that the controversial sculpture may soon be moving to its natural home : Donald Trump's projected billion dollar golfing resort on the Aberdeenshire coast. At the risk of terminal digression, I note that Mr Trump has a very nice website outlining his proposal, which includes the following deeply touching personal detail:

The project will only strengthen Mr. Trump’s connection to Scotland, where his mother grew up in a simple croft (a small agricultural land unit found in northern Scotland) on the Island of Lewis in Stornoway.

The Wallace Monument - a colossal tower with an extravagantly crenellated crown - might be considered to be of an equally representative degree of poor taste and aesthetic judgement of the century in which it was constructed. My cautious opinion is that Victorian bad taste will stand the test of time better than late 20th century crassness. The 19th century was a time of a reemergence and to some extent redefining of Scottish nationalism, and Wallace became pre-eminent as a symbol of Scottish pride. Naturally, the final volume of the Edinburgh-published Ninth Edition of Encyclopaedia Britannica contains his biography. I hope that Accordingianists share my faith that the accuracy of EB9's portrait need not be prefaced by a disclaimer such as graces Braveheart's IMDB entry :

Incorrectly regarded as goofs: This is neither a biopic nor a historical documentary but is, rather, a romantic fiction inspired by true events. Many of the "real" characters and events have been deliberately reinterpreted to suit the story, as have some details of costume and custom.

Indeed.

Next : more Wallace.

20. Lines and phrases of marvellous felicity

Two curious Welsh brothers for today : because they don't make 'em like they did in the 17th century.

VAUGHAN, HENRY (1621-1693), called "the Silurist," poet and mystic, was born into an ancient Welsh family settled at Skethiog-on-Usk, in the parish of Llansaintfraed, Brecknockshire, in 1621. From 1632 to 1638 he and his twin brother Thomas were privately educated by the rector of Llangattock, and then they proceeded to Jesus College, Oxford. At what time Henry left the university is not known ; but it was evidently after he had studied for some time in London and had been introduced into the society of men of letters that he printed his first volume, Poems, with the Tenth Satire of Juvenal Englished (1646). Of this publication he was afterwards, very needlessly, ashamed. Vaughan presently became a physician and returned to his native country, first for a while practising in the town of Brecon, and then settling down for the remainder of his life in Skethiog. From this place he sent forth his collection of sacred poems, Silex Scintillans, in 1650, of which a second part appeared in 1655, and the secular poems of his Olor Iscanus, prepared for the press in 1647, and published without his consent by his brother Thomas in 1651. A mystical treatise in prose, The Mount of Olives, followed in 1652, and then two prose translations, Flores Solitudinis, 1654, and Hermetical Physick, 1655. The world took little notice of these performances. In 1678 an Oxford friend collected the miscellaneous verses of Vaughan's middle life in a volume entitled Thalia Rediviva. Henry Vaughan died at Skethiog on 23d April 1693, and lies buried in the churchyard of Llansaintfraed.

As a poet Vaughan comes latest in the so-caled "metaphysical" school of the 17th century. He is the most remote of the disciples of Donne, and follows him mainly as he saw him reflected in George Herbert. He analyses his experiences, amatory and sacred, with excessive ingenuity, striking out, every now and then, through his extreme intensity of feeling and his close though limited observation of nature, lines and phrases of marvellous felicity. He is of imagination all compact, and is happiest when he abandons himself most completely to his vision. His verse is apt to seem crabbed and untunable in comparison with that of Crashaw, and even of Herbert at his best. The Retreat, with its Wordsworthian intimations, The World, mainly because of the magnificence of its opening lines, and, Beyond the Veil are by far the most popular of Vaughan's poems and represent him at his best. His passion for the Usk, and his desire to immortalize that pastoral river, are pathetically prominent in his writings. His metrical ear was not fine, and he affected, almost more than Herbert himself, tortured and tuneless forms of self-invented stanza.

VAUGHAN, THOMAS (1621-1665), "the Rosicrucian," was the twin brother of Henry VAUGHAN (see above). When Thomas left Oxford he went into the church and became rector of his native parish Llansaintfraed until his ejectment, when he settled at Oxford as an alchemist. He died at Albury on 27th February 1665, poisoned by the fumes of a cauldron. Under the pseudonym of Eugenius Philalethes, Thomas Vaughan produced eleven volumes defending and describing the tenets of Rosicrucians. The titles of these - among which are The Man-Mouse, 1650 ; The Second Wash, 1651 ; The Fame and Confession of the Fraternity of the Rosy Cross, 1652 ; Aula Lucis, 1652 ; and Euphrates, 1653 - are not more extraordinary than their style. Henry More the Platonist engaged in controversy with Thomas Vaughan, deep calling unto deep in pamphlets.

You may judge the marvellous felicity of "The World" for yourself, courtesy of www.luminarium.org . It begins

I SAW Eternity the other night,
Like a great ring of pure and endless light,
All calm, as it was bright ;
And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years
Driv'n by the spheres
Like a vast shadow mov'd ; in which the world
And all her train were hurl'd.

FOOTNOTE: Eagle-eyed pedants will have noticed that I have given Thomas Vaughan's date of death as 1665, rather than the 1666 which all other sources in Interwebshire show. Please be assured that I have transcribed diligently, and 1665 is the date given in the 9th Edition. It seems likely that Britannica was, in this unfortunate instance, in error, but the tantalising possibility remains that EB9 got it right, and that later citings have been perpetuating someone else's error. If any Accordingianists happen to be in the vicinity of Albury any time, could you possibly check the parish records (or gravestone if there is one) and clarify this troublesome matter? A substantial reward is on offer (subject to availability: the alternative being an insubstantial reward).

19. One of the greatest conquerors the world has ever seen

Managed to catch Mongol: The Rise of Genghis Khan before it closed at our local arts cinema last night. I enjoyed the film, although Mongolian members of the Barleycorn family were less impressed. As the title suggests, the film depicts the early life of the great conqueror, for which the source material is the Mongolian Secret History, a carefully guarded historical tradition, which may well be an accurate record of the facts, but being the sole document relating to the period, that isn't something historically knowable. What is unforgivable about the movie to Mongolian thinking is the reinterpretation of those events. Deep offense was caused in Mongolia when news of the central scene, and the director's invention, depicting the mighty Chinggis locked in a cage for the amusement of passers-by, reduced to catching a live bird and eating it raw. This provoked a similar reaction in my wife to the portrayal in Bill and Ted, of Chinggis as a small Chinese savage, with an uncontrollable lust for women and barbecued chicken.

It's a shame because it seems that the director was really doing his best to make a positive portrayal. It is a constant source of aggrievement that Chinggis is always portrayed by a foreigner, from John Wayne and Omar Sharif in Hollywood versions, to the young Japanese actor Tadanobu Asano in the present case. A big budget Japanese production of the story just a couple of years ago opted understandably to use the language of the cast and crew. Which didn't go down well in the homeland, for numerous reasons, not least being that Chinggis is continually addressed by the Japanese word for leader, which unfortunately sounds a local like the Mongolian word 'zugg-cho' : 'waitress'. My wife may deny it at a future date, but after watching Mongol she had been certain that the lead was Mongolian, so was surprised to learn that this wasn't so, and grudgingly conceded that his mastery of the language for his role was impressive. This is nicely emphasised by a scene towards the end when Chinggis eulogises his mother tongue, and predicts that one day the whole world will understand it. [For a Mongolian perspective on the movie, check out this review from the Asian Gypsy blog, with particular emphasis on the film's skewed portrayal of the shamanistic faith of the Mongols, and also an anecdote about a projected Steven Seagal portrayal of Chinggis that sadly failed to materialise.]

The movie of course strikes a poor note for Mongolians with the "Genghis" choice of spelling. I do not know when the soft g became hard in popular speech, but it's an annoyance to his descendants. A lot of Mongolian words are a struggle for the Western tongue, but Chinggis isn't one of them.

The second volume of EB9 contains the article ASIA, which has a succinct summary of his career and the empire he forged, and opts for a spelling notably close to the native pronunciation.

Chenghiz Khan, a Mongolian chief, having made himself master of Central Asia, established his capital at Karakorum, the precise site of which is doubtful. In 1215 he took possession of Northern China, and then turned westward ; he overran the whole of Turkestan, the countries along the Oxus, Afghanistan, and Persia, and added them to his empire. After his death in 1227, his successors, dividing his kingdom among them, continued their advance against the west.

Later, either due to consensus or personal choice, the spelling shifts, so the great man's full biography is found in volume 13.

JENGHIZ KHAN (1162 - 1227) Mongol emperor, was born in a tent on the banks of the river Onon, in 1162.

There's less about the early days than the movie depicted. Whether this is owing to unfamiliarity with the Secret History or a decision to ignore events less likely to have been fact, I do not know. (Apparently the Secret History was rediscovered some time in the 19th Century, I have not yet found a reference to it in EB9, although I have a dim memory that it is lurking in there somewhere). We do get a neat description of Temuchin(ie the young Jenghiz)'s troubled ascension to the head of his tribe:

The death of [his father] Yesukai, which placed Temuchin, who was then only thirteen years, on the Mongol throne, was the signal also for the dispersal of several tribes whose allegiance the old chieftain had retained by the exercise of an iron rule. When remonstrated with by Temuchin on their desertion of his banner, the rebels replied : "The deepest wells are sometimes dry, and the hardest stones are sometimes broken ; why should we cling to thee?"

Robert K Douglas, the author of this article, does himself no favours with my wife by giving the etymology of Jenghiz as deriving from the Chinese Ching-sze, or "perfect warrior." I am informed that this should be from Tengis, a Mongolian word meaning "ocean". I am not in a position to object that the great empire was otherwise notably lacking in any maritime associations.

Jenghiz' great military successes are given some detail in this article (which I ought inform you at this juncture can be read in full at 1902.encyclopedia.com). Jenghiz' bold and effective approach to international diplomacy can be well judged from the missive he sent to the chinese Kin Emperor, in order to bring to a swifter end a military campaign that was growing tiresome to him.

"All your possessions in Shan-tung and the whole country north of the Yellow river are now mine with the solitary exception of Yenking (the modern Peking). By the decree of heaven you are now as weak as I am strong, but I am willing to retire from my conquests; as a condition of my doing so, however, it will be necessary that you distribute largess to my officers and men to appease their fierce hostility."

These conditions were wisely accepted by the Kin Emperor. Less wisely he moved his capital to further from the Mongolian border as soon as Jenghiz returned to Mongolia, prompting the conqueror, doubtless with a world-weary shake of the head, to "once more [march] his troops into the doomed empire."

Jenghiz' attempts to conduct his business in a peaceful manner would again and again be confounded. The state of things could not have been put plainer to the Persian Shah:

"I send thee greeting; I know thy power and the vast extent of thine empire ; I regard thee as my most cherished son. On my part thou must know that I have conquered China and all the Turkish nations north of it ; thou knowest that my country is a magazine of warriors, a mine of silver, and that I have no need of other lands. I take it that we have an equal interest in encouraging trade between our subjects."

Unfortunately, after initially accepting these overtures, the Persians found themselves on Jenghiz' bad side, as a result of executing two of his emmisaries as spies.

The invading force was in the first instance divided into armies : one commanded by Jenghiz’s second son Jagatai was directed to march against the Kankalis, the northern defenders of the Khuarezm empire; and the other, led by Juji, his eldest son, advanced by way of Sighnak against Jend.

Against this latter force Muhammed led an army of 400,000 men, who after a bloody battle with the invaders were completely routed, leaving it is said 160,000 dead upon the field. With the remnant of his host Muhammed fled to Samarkand.

Meanwhile Jagatai marched down upon the Jaxartes by the pass of Taras and invested Otrar, the offending city. After a siege of five months the citadel was taken by assault, and Inaljuk and his followers were put to the sword. To mark their sense of crime of which it had been the scene, the conquerors leveled the walls with the ground, after having given the city over to pillage.

At the same time a third army besieged and took Khogend on the Jaxartes ; and yet a fourth, led by Jenghiz and his youngest son Tule, advanced in the direction of Bokhara. Tashkend and Nur surrendered on their approach, and after a short siege Bokhara fell into their hands.

On entering the town Jenghiz ascended the steps of the principal mosque, and shouted to his followers, "The hay is cut ; give your horses folder." No second invitation to plunder was needed ; the city was sacked, and the inhabitants either escaped beyond the walls or were compelled to submit to infamies which were worse than death.

As a final act of vengeance the town was fired, and before the last of the Mongols left the district, the great mosque and certain palaces were the only buildings left to mark the spot where the "center of science" once stood.

History, it is said, is somewhat repetitive in nature. The Russians of 1222 ought to be able to confirm this. They may, in their defense, not have been fully up-to-date on news from the east.

[T]hey received envoys from the Mongol camp, whom they barbarously put to death. "You have killed our envoys," was the answer made by the Mongols ; "well, as you wish for war you shall have it. We have done you no harm. God is impartial ; He will decide our quarrel." If the arbitrament was to be thus decided, the Russians must have been grievously in the wrong. In the first battle, on the river Kaleza, they were utterly routed, and fled before the invaders, who after ravaging Great Bulgaria retired gorged with booty, through the country of Saksin, along the river Aktuba, on their way to Mongolia.

After this campaign, Jenghiz headed back to China to mete out some more of his own (clearly expressed) brand of justice. Sadly,

While on this campaign the five planets appeared in a certain conjunction which to the superstitiously minded Mongol chief foretold the evil was awaiting him. With this presentiments strongly impressed upon him he turned his face homewards, and had advanced no farther than the Se-Keang river in Kansuh when he was seized with all illness of which he died a short time afterwards (1227) at his traveling palace at Ha-laou-tu, on the banks of the river Sale in Mongolia.

By the terms on his will Oghotai was appointed his successor, but so essential was it considered to be that his death should remain a secret until Oghobati was proclaimed that, as the funeral procession moved northwards to the great ordu on the banks of the Kerulon, the escort killed every one they met. The body was then carried successively to the ordus of his several wives, and was finally laid to rest in the valley of Keleen.

Thus ended the career of one of the greatest conquerors the world has ever seen. Born and nurtured as the chief of a petty Mongolian tribe, he lived to see his armies victorious from the China Sea to the banks of the Dnieper[.]

With my own domestic harmony in mind, I omit Robert K. Douglas' final remarks on the eventual decline of the Mongolian empire and nation.

Read the original 9th Edition of Encyclopaedia Britannica article JENGHIZ KHAN here.

Read the current Britannica Online article GENGHIS KHAN here.

13. Prostrated in mind, body, by sunstroke, and in the dust

Communications from the 9th Edition of Encyclopedia Britannica community of enthusiasts have enlightened me to usage of the extremely convenient EB9 abbreviation in reference to the object of our fascination, and I will henceforth endeavour to bandy the term liberally throughout these postings.

The author of the lyrics of the rousingly patriotic Rule Britannia, was the Scotsman James Thomson (1700-1748). Cheery national fervour notwithstanding, Thomson was no stranger to melancholy. EB9 informs us that it was

while he lingered in the neighbourhood of Barnet, without employment, without money, with few friends, saddened by the loss of his mother (his father had died when he was eighteen), that Thomson conceived the idea of his first poems on the season, Winter. The lines-

Welcome, kindred glooms,
Congenial horrors, hail!

came from the heart ; they expressed his own forlorn mood on the approach of the winter of 1725. Winter appeared in the spring of 1726. [...] The tradition is that it attracted no notice for a month, but that, at the end of that time, a literary clergyman, Whately, chanced to take it up from a bookseller's counter, and at once rushed off to the coffee-houses to proclaim the discovery of a new poet.

It is a sad reflection of our times that literary clergymen are rarely now to be seen rushing into coffee-houses to proclaim similar revelations, or that if they do, the modern Briton would hardly be roused from his mochaccino and sudoku to notice.


When it comes to the inspirational power of misery, THOMSON, James (1700-1748) is somewhat overshadowed by THOMSON, James (1834-1882), author of The City of Dreadful Night
and

born at Port Glasgow, in Renfrewshire, the eldest child of a mate in the shipping service. His mother was a deeply religious woman of the Irvingite sect, and it is not improbable that it was from her the son inherited his sombre and imaginative temperament. On her death, James, then in his seventh year, was procured admission into the Caledonian Orphan Asylum, from which he went out into the world as an assistant army schoolmaster. At the garrison at Ballincollig, near Cork, he encountered the one brief happiness of his life : he fell passionately in love with, and was in turn as ardently loved by, the daughter of the armourer-sergeant of a regiment in the garrison, a girl of very exceptional beauty and cultivated mind. Two years later, when Thomson was at the training college at Chelsea, he suddenly received news of her fatal illness and death. The blow prostrated him in mind and body ; and the former endured a hurt from which it never really recovered. Henceforth his life was one of gloom, disappointment, misery, and poverty, rarely alleviated by episodes of somewhat brighter fortune.

[...] In 1872 Thomson went to the Western States of America, as the agents of shareholders in what he ascertained to be a fraudulent silver mine ; and the following year he received a commission from The New York World to go to Spain as its special correspondent with the Carlists. During the two months of his stay in that distracted country he saw little real fighting, and was himself prostrated by a sunstroke.

[..] All his best work was produced between 1855 and 1875 ("The Doom of a City," 1857 ; "Our Ladies of Death," 1861 ; Weddah and Om-el-Bonain : "The Naked Goddess," 1866-7 ; The City of Dreadful Night, 1870 - 74). In his latter years Thomson too often sought refuge from his misery of mind and body in the Lethe of opium and alcohol. His mortal illness came upon him in the house of a poet friend ; and he was conveyed to University College hospital, in Gower Street, where shortly after he died (June 3, 1882). He was buried at Highgate cemetary, in the same grave, in unconsecrated ground, as his friend Austin Holyoake.

Anyone as unfamiliar as I was until today with the work of this unfortunate poet, will be richly rewarded by a reading of his great work, which these opening verses amply testify:

LO, thus, as prostrate, “In the dust I write
My heart’s deep languor and my soul’s sad tears.”
Yet why evoke the spectres of black night
To blot the sunshine of exultant years?
Why disinter dead faith from mouldering hidden?
Why break the seals of mute despair unbidden,
And wail life’s discords into careless ears?

Because a cold rage seizes one at whiles
To show the bitter old and wrinkled truth
Stripped naked of all vesture that beguiles,
False dreams, false hopes, false masks and modes of youth;
Because it gives some sense of power and passion
In helpless innocence to try to fashion
Our woe in living words howe’er uncouth.

8. (iii) An exquisite tessellation

In 1772 Edward Gibbon finally began writing the work conceived in October 1764 in the ruins of the forum. The death of his father had left him with the "leisure and opportunity" to begin his great work. He "long brooded over the chaos of materials he had amassed", but by February 1776 the first volume was published. The final volume saw press shortly before its author's 51st birthday, in 1788. Before his death in 1794 Gibbon was able to write a very thorough autobiography, giving Rogers and Black the material for their essay in Britannica. In the closing thousand words or so they give their 19th century judgement on the man and his work. Although "not more than 56 inches in height" and possessing a "shrill and piercing voice", he was (in adulthood and until the end, at least) blessed with good health,

an exceptionally vigorous brain, and a stomach "almost too good," united to bestow upon him a vast capacity alike for work and enjoyment. This capacity he never abused so as to burden his conscience or depress his spirits...

[H]e was not a stranger to the delights of quiet contemplation of the beauties and grandeurs of nature. His manners, if formal, were refined ; his conversation, when he felt himself at home, interesting and unaffected ; and that he was capable alike of feeling and inspiring a very constant friendship there are many witnesses to show... That his temperament at the same time was frigid and comparatively passionless cannot be denied... His most ardent admirers, however, are constrained to admit that he was deficient in large-hearted benevolence ; that he was destitute of any "enthusiasm of humanity" ; and that so far as every sort of religious yearning or aspiration is concerned, his poverty was almost unique.

Decline and Fall shows the clear evidence of the many qualities possessed by Gibbon's great genius.

Of the kind and amount of ability displayed in that truly immortal work it would be almost impossible to speak in language of exaggerated praise, - the grandeur and vastness of conception, the artistic grouping, the masterly fulness and accuracy of detail, the richness and vividness of description, the coruscating liveliness, the polished sarcasm, the pungent wit.

[...] It is the amplest historical canvas ever spread, the largest historic paining ever executed by a single hand; and only a comprehensive and orderly intellect of the highest rank could have grappled as Gibbon has done with the task of blending that vast array of nations, in all their varieties of costume, habit, language, and religion, into one picturesque and harmonious whole.

[...] Never has historian evinced greater logical sagacity in making comparitively obscure details yield important inferences, or held with firmer hand the balance in the case of conflicting probabilities ; by no one has sounder judgement or greater self-control been, on the whole, more uniformly exhibited in cases where it is so easy for learned enthusiasm to run into fanciful hypotheses.

Such praise, however, would be hollow without admitting the failings to which Mr Rogers and Reverend Black have already alluded.

Even when the occasional Gallicisms and grammatical absurdities pointed out by the industry of critics have been willingly overlooked, there yet remains something to be said on the defects of its style. [...] [W]ith all its great merits it is too often formal and inflexible, and is apt to pall on the ear by the too frequent recurrence of the same cadence at frequent intervals, and the too unsparing use of antithesis. It is not veined marble, but an exquisite tessellation ; not the fluent naturally-winding stream, but a stately aqueduct, faced with stone, adorned with wooded embankments, or flowing over noble arches, but an aqueduct still.

There are more than defects of style in the Decline and Fall. Mr Gibbon believed that the rise of Christianity played a fundamental part in the fall of Rome, and Gibbon regretted this, with the full expression of his polished sarcasm and pungent wit.

[I]t is not necessary to adduce any minor instances, when it can be shown that he is out of harmony with the truth, or at least with the truth as apprehended by the 19th century, in a matter so fundamental as his conception of that empire which declined and fell, and that Christianity which, as he rightly supposes, contributed to it's overthrow.

[...] Gibbon's enthusiasm for the empire of Trajan and the Antonines - that "solid fabric of human greatness" - is undisguised and perfectly sincere ; to his thinking, if the earth ever enjoyed a golden age, it was then. The world was happy because it was under a government which it could never think of questioning or resisting.

[...] It is manifest, however, that to him, thinking of the Roman empire as he did, it was well-nigh impossible to be just to Christianity. He could never forgive a religion which, in his opinion, had overthrown "the solid fabric of human greatness," and given to the world the sorry sight of bare-footed friars chanting psalms on the spot where once had been the august worship in which everybody took part but nobody believed. [...]

Comparing "superstition" with "superstition," virtue with virtue, vice with vice, Gibbon had formed a deliberate preference for the religion and ethics of ancient Rome.

And need Rogers and Black spell out the particular fault of this preference?

Philosophical students of history [...] may now be said to be almost unanimous [...] in finding that the phenomenon called Christianity did mean for mankind a higher conception of truth and a nobler conception of duty.

And eight out of ten owners say their cats prefer it.
[The original article is one of many available in full at 1902encyclopedia.com]

8. (ii) Musing amidst the ruins

Let us return, then, with Mr Rogers and Reverend Black to 18th century England, to find the young Edward Gibbon, himself freshly returned to these shores and living on an allowance in his father's home, beginning a "work of accumulation" building up his father's library.

"I am not conscious," says he, "of having ever bought a book from a motive of ostentation ; every volume , before it was deposited on the shelf, was either read or sufficiently examined" ; he also mentions that he soon adopted the tolerating maxim of the elder Pliny, that no book is ever so bad as to be absolutely good for nothing.

Londoners will no doubt particularly appreciate this maxim, having noted that all those supposed commuters apparently reading a weighty volume called Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on the Tube last year were actually undercover police officers poised ready to brain any would be backpack bombers with the aforesaid quote novel unquote.

Somewhat alienated by his French education, Gibbon lived in the London of 1760 in books rather than society. He "withdrew without reluctance from the noisy and extensive scene of crowds without company, and dissipation without pleasure." Which is sorrier, I wonder, fashionable dissipation at a husband's request, or dissipation without pleasure? Certainly, if you are going to dissipate, you should at least enjoy it.

Having read nothing of Gibbon's writing except what is quoted in the Ninth's essay from his autobiography, I have learnt that it was regrettably Frenchified in expression, owing to his formative experience on the continent. Rogers and Black now tell me that over the next 25 years that Gibbon lived in London, he was encouraged to "addict himself to an assiduous study of the more idiomatic English writers".

Of his admiration of Hume's style, of its nameless grace and simple elegance, he has left us a strong expression, when he tells us that it often compelled him to close the historian's volumes with a mixed sensation of delight and despair.

So, in 1761, Gibbon made his first publication, in French. This was done in compliance with his father's wishes, a man who seems to be quite Machiavellian if not Mansonian in his usage of his family, in as much as he "thought that the proof of some literary talent might introduce him favourably to public notice [seems reasonable enough], and secure the recommendation of his friends for some appointment in connexion with the mission of the English plenipotentiaries to the congress at Augsburg which was at that time in contemplation." Interesting fellow, this Pa Gibbon. Unfortunately, being in French, the book was received with "cold indifference" in England, although after Gibbon's later success, the rare first printing first sold for half-a-crown had "risen to the fanciful price of a guinea or thirty shillings" on ye Bay.

Gibbon then spent three years as a Captain in the Hampshire militia, before his father packed him off on that most fashionable - but edifying rather than dissipating - of 18th century pursuits, a Grand Tour of Europe, which at length brought young Edward to Rome. (Whether Gibbon Snr had some colourful ulterior motive concerning supernumeraries at the General Synod or perhaps the predisposition of eunuchs in some sultan's harem, Rogers and Black do not reveal). And now I must quote quotation, for

...the words in which [Gibbon] has alluded to the feelings with which he approached [Rome] are such as cannot be omitted from any sketch of Gibbon, however brief. "My temper is not very susceptible of enthusiasm, and the enthusiasm which I do not feel I have ever scorned to affect. But at the distance of twenty five years I can neither forget nor express the strong emotions which agitated my mind as I first approached and entered the Eternal City. After a sleepless night, I trod with a lofty step the ruins of the forum ; each memorable spot, where Romulus stood, or Tully spoke, or Caesar fell, was at once present to my eye ; and several days of intoxication were lost or enjoyed before I could descend to a cool and minute investigation... It was at Rome, on the 15th of October 1764, as I sat musing amidst the ruins of the Capitol, while the barefooted friars were singing vespers in the temple of Jupiter, that the idea of writing the decline and fall of the city first started to my mind."

8. (i) Unprovided with original learning, unformed in the habits of thinking, unskilled in the arts of composition

I believe that it is safe to assume that the vast majority of readers of the 9th edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica had experienced the blessings of a classical education, and however much their Latin might have been learned by rote and from the vulgus books and cribs of Tom Brown's School Days, that this widespread and at its least passing familiarity with the thoughts, words and actions of the Greeks and Romans so looked to and emulated by our 19th century forebears, is a cultural achievement largely lost today.

The Ninth has extensive entries on the subject of Rome and all the great Romans, but of course no self-improving Victorian's shelves could be expected to be without all six volumes of the first great academic attempt to completely answer a given question: Gibbon's History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. A history of the History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire can indeed be found in Volume 10's essay on GIBBON by Henry Rogers and the Reverend J. S. Black (largely cribbed, in the true spirit of classicism, from Gibbon's autobiography). [The article is one of many available in full at 1902encyclopedia.com]

Edward Gibbon (1737 - 1794) "one of the most celebrated historians of any age or country" easily merits the 9 pages - somewhere over 10,000 words by my calculation - devoted to his life and works. Throughout the Ninth we will find portrait after portrait of the great men of history (and the portraits are mostly of the men, I'm afraid), again and again we will be shown the circumstances, opportunities and adversities that forged their characters, and invited to consider their noble qualities and their tragic failings.

Gibbon's path to greatness was not diverted by a childhood plagued by illness and a mother prone to "the occasional plunge into fashionable dissipation in compliance with her husband's wishes". I'm not entirely certain what fashionable dissipation might be but it returns 1,850 hits from Google, and will join the ranks of opprobrious euphemisms for pleasure that I am slowly acquiring. Ma Gibbon is at least excused her shame for having acted under marital obligation. Of the foundation of his own classical education Gibbon is quotably succinct:

By the common methods of discipline, at the expense of many tears and some blood, I purchased the knowledge of the Latin syntax.

It is in reading the Arabian Nights, Pope's Homer and Dryden's Virgil for pleasure that Gibbon credits the germination of his intellectual development. The best of England's public (ie, private) schools gave him little in the way of education, and it was only when his repeated illnesses led to his being tutored at home, and to an indulgence of his "indiscriminate appetite for reading", that his passion for learning grew.

I am much taken with Gibbon's self-appraisal in his first attempt at authorship, whilst a young student at Magdalen College:

Unprovided with original learning, unformed in the habits of thinking, unskilled in the arts of composition, I resolved to write a book.

That first book was never written, and whatever greatness Gibbon might then have wrought was lost owing to Blogger being almost two hundred and fifty years from inception.

Gibbon's studies at Oxford (the "fourteen most idle and unproductive" months of his life) were curtailed by a Jesuit inveigling him with the "doctrines of Popery" - his father, outraged by this base betrayal ratted-out the young turncoat to Magdalen, who in full accordance with the law of the land, expelled the apostate. Gibbon Snr then packed his son off to Lausanne to the care of a Calvinist minister for five years to straighten him out. Owing to his master not speaking English, young Gibbon was forced to immerse himself in French language and thought, with profitable results as far as intellectual discipline, although regrettably a degree of gallification "tinged his style to the last". Rogers and Black seem relieved to report that during his years in Switzerland, Gibbon rejected the "articles of the Romish creed" and returned to Protestantism.

Although Gibbon studied and improved his moral character with rigour in Lausanne, he still found time to shower his blessings upon "such society as the place had to offer". He wrote in a 1755 letter to his maiden aunt:

I find a great many agreeable people here, see them sometimes, and can say upon the whole, without vanity, that, though I am the Englishman here who spends the least money, I am he who is most generally liked.

Had I a maiden aunt I would be most happy to pen her a similar missive from some benighted corner of the globe, and I think that this should not be counted the least of Gibbons' accomplishments.

Gibbon had himself introduced to Voltaire, learned to appreciate theatre beyond "idolatry for the gigantic genius of Shakespeare which is inculcated from our infancy as the first duty of an Englishman", and fell in love with one Mlle Susan Churchod.

That the passion which she inspired in him was tender, pure, and fitted to raise to a higher level a nature which in some respects was in some need of such elevation will be doubted by none but the hopelessly cynical[.]

Alas, on return to Blighty Pa Gibbon made it clear that his son would not be entering a "strange alliance" with the daughter of the pasteur of Crassier and so

After a painful struggle I yielded to my fate ; I sighed as a lover, I obeyed as a son ; my wound was insensibly healed by time, absence, and the habits of a new life.

1758 sees Gibbon's formative years at a close, with a young man who in spite of being "sometimes a little extravagant, and sometimes a little dissipated" is nonetheless

a sober, discreet, calculating Epicurean philosopher, who sought the summum bonum of man in temperate, regulated, and elevated pleasure.

His great works yet to come, we can see here a man in whom the capacity for genius is clearly marked, a unique product of his era, whose autodidacticism was doubtless the cause of admiration from the editors and readers of Britannica a century later, and should be an inspiration and shining example to ye, the enWikified youth of today.