35. i) Dusty books and silence

Last week, here at the European Capital of Culture 2008, we were blessed by no less august a figure than Andy Burnham, the government’s Culture Secretary, outlining the glorious future for Britain’s libraries in the 21st century, “far removed from the stereotype of dusty books and silence.” Libraries, we are thrilled to hear, will be put at the very heart of communities, and all kinds of excitement and fun will be contained therein.

Liverpool, like most UK cities, has a splendid record of doing its very best to banish the association of libraries with mere dusty books, by selling volumes acquired at public expense off at 10p a book, at a rate sufficient to keep the city’s antiquarian book dealers in business. By rigorously applying the criteria of popularity of a given volume to determine whether it remains in the collection, libraries are managing to gradually phase out the fuddy-duddy ramblings of yesteryear with the latest Buffy the Vampire Slayer serialization. I am not complaining : recent acquisitions to the Barleycorn collection have included Nelson's Purse ("the rise and vertiginous fall of Nelson's confident, Alexander Davison") printed way back in 2004, and The Shield of Achilles : War, Peace and the Course of History (2002), which were together worth paying less than the price of a pint of milk for.

Last month The Times managed to hilariously put recent relaxations of prohibitions against food and talking to the test by sending a reporter round to various London libraries to talk loudly on her mobile phone and spill doughnut crumbs and cola on the books. What larks, Pip!

Volume 14 of the ninth edition of Encyclopaedia Britannica contains the fascinating and extensively researched article LIBRARIES by H. R. Tedder, F. S. A., Librarian, Athenaeum Club, and E. C. Thomas, B. A., Secretary, Library Association, London. As well as a history of libraries, advice on the collection and maintenance of a library, there is also a survey, accompanied by a table consisting of ten pages of statistics, of the collections of every library in the United Kingdom and the principal libraries of the rest of the world. It is impressive and striking as an attempt to provide something of an index to all the printed knowledge of the planet, circa 1882.

The historical portion of the article gives a fascinating impression given of the fragility, across the ages, of the process by which knowledge has been transferred, and a tantalising vision of all that has been lost to dust and fire.

“The researches which have followed the discoveries of Botta and Layard have thrown unexpected light not only upon the history but upon the arts, the sciences, and the literature of the ancient civilizations of Babylonia and Assyria. In all these wondrous revelations no facts are more interesting than those which show the existence of extensive libraries so many ages ago, and none are more eloquent of the elaborateness of these forgotten civilizations.

“In the course of his excavations at Nineveh in 1850, Layard came upon some chambers in the south-west palace, the floor of which, as well as of the adjoining rooms, was covered to the depth of a foot with tablets of clay, covered with cuneiform characters, in many cases so small as to require a magnifying glass. These varied in size from an inch to a foot square. […] These tablets formed the library of the great monarch Assur-bani-pal -the Sardanapalus of the Greeks - the greatest patron of literature among the Assyrians. It is estimated that this library consisted of some ten thousand distinct works and documents, some of the works extending over several tablets. The tablets appear to have been methodically arranged and catalogued, and the library seems to have been thrown open for the general use of the king’s subjects. [See Menant, Bibliothéque du Palais de Nineve, Paris, 1880.] A great portion of this library has already been brought to England and deposited in the British Museum, but it is calculated that there still remain some 20,000 fragments to be gathered up. [...]"

Complaints of cultural imperialism would be entirely out of place here, but it is kind of fun to read a throwaway contemporary reference to the British Museum's hoovering up of artifacts and antiquities.

There follows an account of the ancient Greek libraries, centering on those of Alexandria. I had a vague idea that the destruction of that renowned repository of learning was a particular and infamous event in history : it transpires that the historical truth is more complex.

"When Caesar set fire to the fleet in the harbour of Alexandria, the flames accidentally extended to the larger library of the Bruchium, and it was destroyed. [Parthey (Alexandrinisches Museum) assigns topographical reasons for doubting this story.] Anthony endeavoured to repair the loss by presenting to Cleopatra the library from Pergamus. This was very probably placed in the Bruchium, as this continued to be the literary quarter of Alexandria until the time of Aurelian. [...] The usual statement that from the date of the restoration of the Bruchium under Cleopatra the libraries continued in a flourishing condition until they were destroyed bafter the conquest of Alexandria by the Saracens in 640 A.D. can hardly be supported. It is very possible that one of the libraries perished when the Bruchium quarter was destroyed by Auralian, 273 A. D. In 389 or 391 an edict of Theodosius ordered the destruction of the Serapeum, and its books were pillaged by Christians. When we take into account the disordered condition of the times, and the neglect into which literature and science had fallen, there can be little difficulty in believing that there were but few books left to be destroyed by the soldiers of 'Amr. The familiar anecdote of the caliph's message to his general (vol. i. p. 494) rests mainly upon the evidence of Abulfaragius, so that we may be tempted to agree with Gibbon that the report of a stranger who wrote at the end of six hundred years is overbalanced by the silence of earlier native annalists. It is, however, so far from easy to settle the question that a cloud of names could easily be cited upon either side, while some of the most careful inquirers confess the difficulty of a decision."

This underlines something brought to mind recently, when I heard on the radio some academic or politician speaking of a constant cultural effort throughout 19th century British academia to denigrate the Arabic and Islamic world. I have yet to scour the pages of Britannica for references which may support or refute this assertion ; my general impression at the time was that the statement was some way off the mark, : this article supports that notion. Elsewhere, where the authors write of libraries in the dark and middle ages, this is emphasized again. After speaking of the fragile flame of learning preserved by monastic tradition (with its own repeated outbreaks of hostility against the writings of earlier pagans), we read :

"The first conquests of the Arabians, as we have already seen, threatened hostility to literature. But, as soon as their conquests were secured, the caliphs became the patrons of learning and science. Greek manuscripts were eagerly sought for and translated into Arabic, and colleges and libraries everywhere arose. Baghdad in the East and Cordova in the West became the seats of a rich development of letters and science during the age when the civilization of Europe was most obscured. Cairo and Tripoli were also distinguished for their libraries. The royal library of the Fatimites in Africa is said to have numbered 100,000 manuscripts, while that collected by the Omayyads in Spain is reported to have contained six times as many. It is said that there were no less than seventy libraries in the cities of Andalusia. Whether these figures be exaggerated or not - and they are much below those given by some Arabian writers, which are undoubtedly so - it is certain that the libraries of the Arabians and the Moors of Spain offer a very remarkable contrast to those of the Christian nations during the same period."

Still to come : Tedder & Thomas's catalogue of the world's libraries, and how best to avoid the fatal proclivity of book-binders.

34. Thoroughly organized, drilled, and equipped for service.

The author of the article quoted in the previous three postings is one Professor McKendrick. Britannica prints his name as M’Kendrick in each instance. I am assuming that this is following either some printing convention or personal preference, for elsewhere in Britannica Scots names are printed with the full Mc or Mac, or are likewise apostrophized. Checking the list of contributors in the Index volume, in trying (without success) to fathom if there is a discernible rule when the apostrophe comes into play, I was delighted to find amongst the many academics of Scots descent one George Brinton McClellan (given as M’Clellan).

McClellan was a Union general during the American civil war, lionized in song , but rather notoriously remembered in history as a battle-shy popinjay. Before the war he had been a successful and highly-regarded railway engineer, surely as notable a field of achievement as could be made in peacetime 19th century affairs. At the outbreak of the war, as the major-general of Ohio’s volunteers he achieved striking successes, where the Union was elsewhere suffering humiliating defeats and the threat of Washington’s capture. The handsome young general was a popular choice when promoted to commander of the northern armies.

McClellan proved to have a prodigious talent for the organization and discipline of his forces, matched by an equally prodigious inclination to avoid engaging the Confederate forces in actual combat. McClellan’s unwillingness to commit his troops in battle and his repeated habit of massively overestimating the strength of opposing forces, were knowingly exploited by wily southern generals such as Jackson and Lee. His repeated procrastination is often considered to be one of the single most significant factors in the bloody protraction of the war. Lincoln, if my understanding (based pretty much entirely on Gore Vidal’s splendid biographical fiction) is halfway correct, had no faith at all in the abilities of his well-groomed commander, and was finally able to dismiss him after the carnage at Antietam (considered nonetheless by many at the time and since to be McClellan‘s greatest victory).

To be fair to McClellan, his faults, although apparently clear enough to Lincoln, are easily marked with the historical benefit of hindsight. Had McClellan not been in the position to assemble and instill with faith and confidence such a disciplined and united army, there may have been no victory for later generals to win.

McClellan’s contribution to Britannica is, perhaps disappointingly, not a biography of some military leader of the ancients nor a treatise on keeping buttons and boots polished, but rather the entry in volume 17 for NEW JERSEY, of which state McClellan served a term as governor from 1878 to 1881. The article follows the standard format for geographical entries, describing the physical features of the state, listing its natural resources, tabulating its industry, commerce and population, closing with a description of local government, institutions and history.

Whilst otherwise devoid of material for easy interpretation, other than to confirm a love for and pride in his adopted state, there is perhaps a personal flash in the very last words of the article, describing New Jersey’s military capacity :

“At the breaking out of the civil war of 1861the number of men in the State available for military duty was 98,806 ; and during that war New Jersey organized and maintained 37 regiments of infantry, 3 regiments of cavalry, and 5 batteries. The national guard of the State now consists of 48 companies of infantry and 2 Gatling gun companies, numbering 3220 officers and men, thoroughly organized, drilled, and equipped for service.”

McClellan’s reputation for being more concerned with the parade ground than the battlefield, is not contradicted by the omission of any specific reference to the New Jersey troops being ready for action.

From McClellan‘s entry in the biographical section of volume 23‘s UNITED STATES article, we learn that he died “at Orange Mountain, N.J., Oct 29, 1885.” In his article, McClellan tells us that the post of governor is “elected by the people for a term of three years ; no one can serve in this capacity for two successive terms.” I cannot help but imagine the blue pen of an editor striking out “not even General George B. McClellan.” Death itself ruled out the possibility of a non-successive term.


Sources: EB9’s biography of McClellan is rather kind and brushes over the specifics of his defects. “The Life of Abraham Lincoln” by Henry Ketcham (1901) is widely available free of charge in numerous formats throughout Interwebshire, and has a useful chapter on the relations between the president and the general.

The current Britannica articles on George B. McClellan and the American Civil War are worth a look for a brief introduction to the modern historical perspective.

The photograph illustrating this piece comes from the Smithsonian Institution website, and shows a splendidly turned out McClellan and staff, posing for the camera, while (as one source has it) the distant sounds his fellow General Pope’s army being defeated at the second battle of Bull Run could be heard : Georgey playing his trademark hand of keeping his own forces safely unused in reserve. There are a wealth of fascinating photographs of the period, and of course much else besides, at the Smithsonian's main site.

A tip of the hat to the, well, encyclopaedic knowledge of the brains behind www.1902encyclopedia.com for bringing my attention to the matter of the apostrophization of Scots patronymics, and also for identifying the article penned by the great general.

ADDED RELEVANCY UPDATE (15.10.08): Somehow I managed to miss the news that Sarah Palin, one of the more interesting candidates to run as vice president, twice name dropped General McClellan in an interview the other week, apparently under the mistaken impression that he was leading American forces in Afghanistan.

26. (ii)(b) Vir gravis et corpulentis

I hope that readers can forgive the discursive wandering from the subject that encyclopedia-browsing inevitably leads to. In writing about the Beijing Olympics I seem to have lost myself on the ever-appealing subject of the conquering Mongols, which I hope may in part be excused by the fact that that city first became capital of all China under the rule of Genghis' grandson Khubilai, he of Coleridge's opium-dreamt pleasure dome renown.

Colonel Sir Henry Yule's preface to the CHINA article (looked at last week) makes mention of one of the first known western visitors to the Orient, the Franciscan friar Johannes de Plano Carpini. Carpini, who merits his own entry (also penned by the colonel) in the same volume of EB9, made a remarkable journey in the middle of the 13th century from Lyons, France, to the court of the Khaan at Karakoram, in the heart of Mongolia.

In 1241 Mongolian troops scored an alarming victory at Liegnitz which "threatened to cast European Christendom beneath the feet of the barbarous hordes." In fact, the death of Genghis' son Ogudei and dispute over the succession meant that Mongolian interest turned away from further conquest into Europe. "The dread of the Tartars was, however, still on men's mind four years later , when Pope Innocent IV. determined (1245) on sending a mission to the Tartar and other Asiatic princes, the real object of which apparently was to gain trustworthy information regarding the hordes and their purposes."

The 65 year old Carpini, who had been a companion and disciple of Francis of Assisi, was chosen as the Pope's envoy. The delegation left Lyons on Easter Day 1245 (16th April), made a brief visit to seek "the counsel of an old friend, Wenceslaus, king of Bohemia," and from Kiev crossed into Mongol territory, to be escorted to the camp of Batu, the "senior of the Chingizid family."

Here the envoys with their presents had to pass between two fires before being presented to the prince. Batu ordered them to proceed onwards to the court of the supreme Kaan in Mongolia, and on Easter Day once more (April 8 1246) they started on the second and most formidable part of their journey - "so ill," writes the legate, "that we could scarcely sit a horse ; and throughout all that Lent our food had been nought but millet with salt and water, and with only snow melted in a kettle for drink." Their bodies were tightly bandaged [ie, Mongolian-fashion] to enable them to endure the excessive fatigue of this enormous ride [...] till, on the Feast of St Mary Magdalene (22d July), at last they reached the imperial camp called Sira Ordu (Yellow Pavilion), near the Orkhon River, - this stout-hearted old man having thus ridden something like 3000 miles in 106 days.

Carpini and his companions were to witness the Kurultai or formal election by tribal consent of the new Khaan Kuyuk, where "3000 to 4000 envoys and deputies from all parts of Asia and Eastern Europe, [bore] homage, tribute, and presents." After the enthronement of Kuyuk, the Pope's envoy was presented to the Khaan.

It was not till November that they got their dismissal, bearing a letter to the Pope in Mongol, Arabic, and Latin, which was little else than a brief imperious assertion of the Kaan's office as the scourge of God. Then commenced their long winter journey homeward[.]

Carpini was able to present the Khaan's letter to the Pope, and his report on the extent of the Mongol empire, still at Lyon, at the end of 1247. He was rewarded with the archbishopric of Antivari in Dalmatia, and at a date shortly after unrecorded by history, died.

Carpini left two documents of his observations on the Mongols, the Liber Tartarorum and the Historia Mongalorum quos nos Tartaros appellamus (ie, the "History of the Mongols whom we call the Tartars"), the first reliable European accounts of the Mongol people and empire. His great journey into the East and back is all the more remarkable, as Sir Henry observes, as

John of Pian del Carpine was not only an old man when he went cheerfully upon this mission, but was, as we know from accidental evidence in the annals of his order, a fat and heavy man (vir gravis et corpulentus), insomuch that during his preachings in Germany he was fain, contrary to Franciscan precedent, to ride a Donkey.

While the world watches Beijing in adoration of today's majestic Olympians, let us not forget the achievements of fat and heavy old men.

26. (ii)The accidents of war, commerce and opportunity

Professor R. K. Douglas' comprehensive study CHINA is prefaced by an account of how China became known to the Western world, written by Colonel Sir Henry Yule, R.E., K.C.S.I., C.B. It is an interesting opening, not least because, contrary to prejudices one might have expected in a 19th century writer, the emphasis is not upon Marco Polo or other 'discoverers' of the East, but on Genghis and sons, who brought the Orient west. In this opening, amongst a great wealth of other material which deserves revisiting, Sir Henry makes a very effective summary of the significance of the Mongol conquest in the wider historical perspective. Should any high school plagiarists have been set homework to "Explain the significance of the Mongol conquest in the wider historical perspective in 200 words or less" then I hope that the following proves of service. For extra credit, change the spelling 'Jenghiz' to 'Chinggis.'

"The name [Cathay] first became known to Europe in the 13th century, when the vast conquests of Jenghiz and his house drew a new and vivid attention to Asia. [...]

The conquests of Jenghiz and his successors had spread not only over China and, as it seemed the adjoining East, but westward also over all Northern Asia, Persia, Armenia, part of Asia Minor, and Russia, threatening to deluge Christendom. Though the Mongol wave retired, as it seemed almost by an immediate act of Providence, when Europe lay at its feet, it had levelled or covered all political barriers from the frontier of Poland to the Yellow Sea, and when Western Europe recovered from its alarm, Asia lay open, as never before or since, to the inspection of Christendom. Princes, envoys, priests, - half-missionary half-envoy - visited the court of the great Khan in Mongolia ; and besides these, the accidents of war, commerce, or opportunity carried a variety of persons from various classes of human life into the depths of Asia."

[EDIT : correction to the accreditation of the above article extract thanks to the vigilant sages at www.1902encyclopedia.com]

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 (iii) Obscure histories and noble successes

I have tried without success to get hold of a copy of Braveheart this past week, with the object of drawing precise comparisons between the movie's depiction of events and the historical record. Instead I must rely on my imperfect memory. I seem to recall King Patrick the McGoohan cursing and fretting that the maverick Sgt Gibson and his crazy schemes are about to lay waste to Olde London Town, or some such, and that only a fiendish betrayal inexplicably not perpetrated by Alan Rickman can save his realm.

There is presumably some very logical law of historical motion picture-making which demands such reinterpretations. A shame, because the outline given in Britannica seems cinematic in scope, despite lacking the bizarre insertion of a love triangle between the vengeful Scot and Edward's queen.

Last week we saw the fierce uprising initiated by Wallace shattered by division in his ranks. Undeterred, however,

"Wallace retired to the north, and although deserted by the barons was soon at the head of a large army. The vigour and success of his operations was such that in a short time he succeeded in recovering almost all the fortresses held by the English to the north of the Forth. He had begun the siege of Dundee when he received the information that an English army, led by the Earl of Surrey and Cressingham the treasurer, was on its march northward. Leaving the citizens of Dundee to continue the siege of the castle, he made a rapid march to Stirling. Encamping in the neighbourhood of the Abbey Craig - on which now stands the national monument to his memory - he watched the passage of the Forth. After an unsuccessful attempt to bring Wallace to terms, the English commander, on the morning of 11th September 1297, began to cross the bridge. When about one half of his army had crossed, and while they were still in disorder, they were attacked with such fury by Wallace, that almost all - Cressingham among the number - were slain, or driven into the river and drowned.

"[...]The results of [this battle] were important. The English were everywhere driven from Scotland. To increase the alarm of the English, as well as to relieve the famine which then prevailed, Wallace organized a great raid into the north of England, in the course of which he devastated the country to the gates of Newcastle. On his return he was elected guardian of the kingdom. In this office he set himself to reorganize the army and to regulate the affairs of the country. His measures were marked by much wisdom and vigour, and for a short time succeeded in securing order, even in the face of the jealousy and opposition of the nobles."

This was the pinnacle of Wallace's career - his successes were remarkable and inspiring, and well worthy of celluloidal commemoration. His downfall, execution and legacy were equally dramatic.

Edward I, the "Hammer of the Scots" was in Flanders during the Battle of Stirling.

"He hastened home, and at the head of a great army entered Scotland in July 1298. Wallace was obliged to adopt the only plan of campaign which would give any hope of success. He slowly retired before the English monarch, driving off all supplies and wasting the country. The nobles as usual for the most part deserted his standard. Those that remained thwarted his councils by their jealousies. His plan, however, came very near being successful. Edward, compelled by famine, had already given orders for a retreat when he received information of Wallace's position and intentions. The army, then at Kirkliston, was immediately set in motion, and next morning (July 22, 1298) Wallace was brought to battle in the vicinity of Falkirk. After an obstinate fight,the Scots were overpowered and defeated with great loss. Among the slain were Sir John de Graham, the bosom friend of Wallace, whose death, as Blind Harry tells, threw the hero into a frenzy of rage and grief. The account of his death is one of the finest and most touching passages of the poem. With the remains of his army Wallace found refuge for the night in the Torwood - known to him from his boyish life at Dunipace. He then retreated to the north, burning the town and castle of Stirling on the way. He resigned the office of guardian, and betook himself again to a wandering life and a desultory and predatory warfare against the English. At this point his history again becomes obscure.

"[...]When in the winter of 1303-4 Edward received the submission of the Scottish nobles, Wallace was expressly excepted from the terms. And after the capture of Stirling castle and Sir William Oliphaunt, and the submission of Sir Simon Fraser, he was left alone, but resolute as ever in refusing allegiance to the English king. A price was set upon his head, and the English governors and captains in Scotland had orders to use every means for his capture. On the 5th August 1305 he was taken - as is generally alleged, through treachery - at Robroyston, near Glasgow, by Sir John Menteith, carried to the castle of Dumbarton, and thence conveyed in fetters and strongly guarded to London. He reached London on the 22d August, and next day was taken to Westminster Hall, where he was impeached as a traitor by Sir Peter Mallorie, the king's justice. To the accusation Wallace made the simple reply that he could not be a traitor to the king of England, for he never was his subject, and never swore fealty to him. He was found guilty and condemned to death. The sentence was executed the same day with circumstances of unusual cruelty."

Our Reverend author closes with a very nice summation.

"The cause of national independence was not lost with the life of Wallace. Notwithstanding the cruelty and indignity amid which it terminated, that life was not a failure. It has been an inspiration to his countrymen ever since. The popular ideas regarding his stature, strength, bodily prowess, and undaunted courage are confirmed by the writers nearest his own time - Wyntoun and Fordun. And indeed no man could in that age have secured the personal ascendancy which he did without the possession of these qualities. The little we know of his statesmanship during the short period he was in power gives proof of political wisdom. His patriotism was conspicuous and disinterested. He was well skilled in the modes of warfare that suited the country and the times. That he failed in freeing his country from the yoke of England was due chiefly to the jealousy with which he was regarded by the men of rank and power. But he had a nobler success in inspiring his countrymen with a spirit which made their ultimate conquest impossible."

22 (ii) Happy Treaty of Irvine Day

WALLACE, SIR WILLIAM, the most popular national hero of Scotland, is believed to have been the second son of Sir Malcolm Wallace of Elderslie and Auchinbothie, in Renfrewshire. The date of his birth is not certainly ascertained, but is usually given as 1270.

"Not certainly ascertained" is uncharacteristically clumsy for the Ninth edition (why not simply "uncertain"?), and a poor start for author A. F. H. whose humble entry in the Index's List of Contributors reads : A. F. HUTCHISON, M.A., Rector, High School, Stirling.

The only authority for the events of his early life is the metrical history of Blind Harry. That authority cannot be implicitly relied on, though we need not conclude that the minstrel invented the stories he relates.

I don't intend to harp on the good Reverend's writing style, which might bring to mind pots, kettles, and degrees of swarthiness, but the repetition of "authority" is another clunker. I am already imagining that A.F.H. might have been a beloved school master of volume 24's editor. I am furthermore caused to doubt whether Blind Harry really was a minstrel and not a mere strolling instrumental musician.

Blind Harry's verses were supposedly based on the Latin testimony of Wallace's personal friend, John Blair.

As Blair's account has perished, we cannot tell how far the minstrel has faithfully followed his authority, but some comparatively recent discoveries have confirmed the truth of portions of the narrative which had previously been doubted. At best, however, his authority must be regarded with suspicion, except when it is confirmed by other and more trustworthy evidence.

That's two more "authorities", and from here onwards I will restrict my observations to content rather than style.

Only for a period of less than two years in his life - from the beginning of the insurrection in 1297 to the battle of Falkirk - does Wallace come before us in the clearest historical light. With the exception of one or two glimpses of him that we obtain from authentic historical documents, the recorded events of his later as of his earlier life rest on no more certain a[*******]y than that of Blind Harry.

The absence of reliable biographical information is little different in Wallace's case than in that of a great many other figures in history. Little more is known of the 'real' Wallace than can be proven of Robin Hood or King Arthur. True history, of course, is not saying that this or that happened, but that this or that piece of evidence exists, from which inferences are carefully drawn. Blind Harry's account is romantic, and may as well be believed as the truth, or ignored.

On account of an incident that happened at Dundee [where Wallace was studying] - his slaughter of a young Englishman named Selby, for an insult offered to him - he is said to have been outlawed, and so driven into rebellion against the English. Betaking himself to the wilds of his country, he gradually gathered round him a body of desperate men whom he led in various attacks upon the English.

The essential fact derived from Wallace's early career, is that he was an outlaw who attacked the English in Scotland. It may be that you find Mel Gibson's humble peasant enraged by Droit de Signeur somehow nobler than Blind Harry's hot-tempered, brawling student, but my own sympathies and credulity are more with the latter.

Anyhow, Wallace's successes attracted "patriotic nobles" to his cause.

His insurrection now became more open and pronounced, and his enterprises of greater importance. [...] The success of these exploits induced the English king to take measures for staying the insurrection. A large army, under the command of Sir Henry Percy and Sir Robert Clifford, was sent against the insurgents, and came up with them at Irvine. Dissension broke out among the Scottish leaders, and all Wallace's titled friends left him and made submission to Edward, except the ever faithful Sir Edward Moray. The Treaty of Irvine, by which these Scottish nobles agreed to acknowledge Edward as their sovereign lord, is printed in Rymer's Foedera. It is dated 9th July 1297, and is the first public document in which the name of Sir William Wallace occurs.

We'll leave our hero at this serendipitous juncture for today, without further questioning how Mr Gibson's blue-faced barbarian fits in with all these knights and lords. More presently.

[This article can be found at 1911Encyclopedia.com - taken from the 11th edition of Encyclopaedia Britannica. The article (from my uncertain ascertation), appears to be identical to the 9th Edition, with a full inventory of "accounts" and no other omissions or additions.]

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.

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.

16. Admirable diversions

Do you know the difference between your minstrels and your bards, your bufos and your troubadours, your gleemen and your joglars? There are a number of articles in EB9 which might educate you to better classify your itinerant musicians. One of the more concise is MINSTREL, by William Minto, M.A., Professor of English Language at the University of Aberdeen.

The "minstrels," according to Bishop Percy, "were an order of men in the Middle Ages who united the arts of poetry and music, and sang verses to the harp of their own composing, who appear to have accompanied their songs with mimicry and action, and to have practised such various means of diverting as were much admired in those rude times [...]."

Minto opens with this description from Reliques of Ancient Poetry - the source of the popular associations with the term 'minstrel' that appealed to the 19th century medievalist. An erroneous association:

The imagination was fascinated by this romantic figure, and the laborious and soured antiquary Ritson argued in vain that nobody before Bishop Percy had ever applied the word minstrel to such an order of men, that no such order of men ever did exist in England, and that the historical English "minstrels," so-called, were a much less gifted and respectable class, being really instrumental musicians, either retainers or strollers.

Why is it that no one ever listens to laborious and soured antiquaries? Is a little precision too much to ask for when speaking of past times and peoples?

[T]here can be little doubt that Ritson was substantially right [...]. The romantic bishop transferred to the English minstrel the social status and brilliant gifts of the Anglo-Saxon gleoman or scop, and the French troubadour in the flourishing period of Provencal poetry. That the gleemen sang to the harp verses of their own composing, that some of them travelled from court to court as honoured guests, while others were important attached court officials, and all received costly presents, is a well attested historical fact. [...] [A] successful gleeman was as much honoured as a modern poet-laureate, and as richly rewarded as a fashionable prima donna.

11th to 13th century Provence was definitely the place to go for a colourful variety of peripatetic musical entertainment. French joglars, we are informed, closest resemble the ideal of the English minstrel: they "played, sang, recited, conjured, [were] men of versatile powers of entertainment, who performed at the houses of the nobility, and were liberally renumerated[.]" Above the joglar, we have the lofty trobadors, "whose distinction it was to compose verses, whether or not they had sufficient executive faculty to sing or recite them." At the bottom of the heap, but surely most appealing of all, were the bufos "who strolled among the common people, singing ribald songs, showing feats of skill and strength, exhibiting learned dogs and goats, and so forth[.]" Messieurs et Mesdames, voila Hugo! La chevre le plus intelligent! Encroyable.

Whilst medieval England was sadly bereft of such sparkling diversions: do not despair, ye would-be beholder of marvels, if you live in Australia, Britain or the United States, because the spirit of the Bufo and the Joglar is very much alive, in the personages of modern-day minstrels Mike West and Katie Euliss, performing across these continents in the course of perpetual wanderings, as Truckstop Honeymoon. By a most happy coincidence they will be taking to a tiered stage in the bowels of a converted Norwegian fishing boat moored at Canning Dock, Liverpool, on Thursday 22nd May, 2008. I am reliably informed that admission to this splendid occasion, widely touted as the principle cultural event in the city's European Capital of Culture year, will cost a mere £5. Exhibition of a learned goat between musical sets has not yet been confirmed.

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.