The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire: Volume 1, by Edward Gibbon
The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire: Volume 1, by Edward Gibbon, with introduction by Hugh Trevor-Roper, Lord Dacre.#
For most of my life, when I thought of a long scary book, I thought of this book. Now, it has been my privilege to read it. Something interesting about the book, actually surprising, is that Gibbon assumes you know a lot about the Roman world. It is definitely only about the decline of the empire, rather than the empire or the republic in general.#
In the introduction, Lord Dacre quotes this understatement by Gibbon regarding his trip to Rome during his youth: "I do not despair of being able one day to produce something by way of a description of ancient Italy which may be of some use to the public and of some credit to myself." (pp. lxvi-lxvii) He continues about how moving it was for him: "If it was difficult before to give you or Mrs. Gibbon any account of what I saw, it is impossible here... I am really almost in a dream. Whatever ideas books may have given us of the greatness of that people, their accounts of the most flourishing state of Rome fall infinitely short of the picture of its ruins. I am convinced that there never, never existed such a nation, and I hope for the happiness of mankind that there never will again." (p. lxviii)#
A few years ago when I decided to take a trip by myself to Europe, the only place I even considered for a second was Rome. I normally uninterested in scenic tours and the like, thinking I can get more out of a book, but with Rome it was different. There is something appallingly awing about being there. The grandeur of what happened in Rome is just so fabulous. Standing near where Caesar was assassinated... wow. The closest experience I can imagine, that I've experienced, is being in the Sacred Grove in Palmyra, New York---where God and Jesus Christ appeared to Joseph Smith.#
On the plausibility of the barbarian destroyers: "'If all the barbarian conquerors had been annihilated in the same hour, their total destruction would not have restored the empire of the West.' It had been rotted from within." (p. xci)#
In particular, as a cause and symptom of corruption, Gibbon singled out monasticism. Some of his most brilliant chapters, and his most sustained irony, are reserved for the spread of this Egyptian plague, as he called it, over the Roman Empire. [...] Monasticism, he wrote roundly, had, in a later age, 'counter-balanced all the temporal advantages of Christianity.' For monasticism, he believed, was parasitic not only on society but also on the Church, whose `temporal advantages' --- i.e., whose constructive social function --- he would admit. It withdrew the resources of society, both human and economic, from that free and useful circulation on which progress depended. It condemned men to idleness, immobilized wealth, kept land in mortmain. And it positively undermined the very idea of civic virtue. [p. xcii]
[...] Instead of active participation the early Church preached, and the early monks practised, deliberate withdrawal from public life. Such withdrawal was not then justified by any other useful activity. The monks were not learned, they did not teach, the fulfilled no social function, they founded no industry, they tilled no land, they cleared no waste. Their retreat from activity was absolute, and to Gibbon it was contemptible and disgusting: a degradation of the human spirit, a denial of social duty, a refusal to face the challenge of the time.
[...] At a time when the fate of civilization hung in the balance, the Christian clergy `successfully preached the doctrines of patience and pusillanimity; the active virtues of society were discouraged; and the last remains of the military spirit were buried in the cloister.' Later Western monks might use the cloister as a means to preserve, through a dark age, the relics of ancient literature; but the Eastern monks of the fourth century had no such redeeming virtue. [p. xciii]
The virtue of the Roman Republic:#
That public virtue which among the ancients was denominated patriotism, is derived from a strong sense of our own interest in the preservation and prosperity of the free government of which we are members. Such a sentiment, which had rendered the legions of the republic almost invincible, could make but a very feeble impression on the mercenary servants of a despotic prince; and it became necessary to supply that defect by other motives, of a different, but not less forcible nature; honour and religion. [p. 13]
On the legions:
Active valour may often by the present of nature; but such patient diligence can be the fruit only of habit and discipline. [p. 21]
Religion in the Empire before Constantine:#
The policy of the emperors and the senate, as far as it concerned religion, was happily seconded by the reflections of the enlightened, and by the habits of the superstitious, part of their subjects. The various modes of worship, which prevailed in the Roman world, were all considered by the people, as equally true; by the philosopher, as equally false; and by the magistrate, as equally useful. And thus toleration produced not only mutual indulgence, but even religious concord. [p. 34]
Gibbon discusses how Augustus consolidated power, but never took the name of king:#
The title of king had armed the Romans against his life. Augustus was sensible that mankind is governed by names; nor was he deceived in his expectation, that the senate and the people would submit to slavery, provided that they were respectfully assured that they still enjoyed their ancient freedom. A feeble senate and enervated people cheerfully acquiesced in the pleasing illusion, as long as it was supported by the virtue, or even the prudence, of the successors of Augustus. It was a motive of self-preservation, not a principle of liberty, that animated the conspirators against Caligula, Nero, and Domitian. They attacked the person of the tyrant, without aiming their blow at the authority of the emperor. [p. 83]
Many a man would relate this to the American Presidency, but I would not.
On the horrible Commodus:#
Commodus had now attained the summit of vice and infamy. Amidst the acclamations of a flattering court, he was unable to disguise, from himself, that he had deserved the contempt and hatred of every man of sense and virtue in his empire. [p. 108]
The imperatorship of Pertinax is very sadly recounted. (p. 112-115)
A proconsul's progeny:#
Twenty-two acknowledged concubines, and a library of sixty-two thousand volumes, attested to the variety of his inclinations, and from the productions which he left behind him, it appears that the former as well as the latter were designed for use rather than ostentation. (By each of his concubines, the younger Gordian left three or four children. His literary productions were by no means contemptible.) [p. 196]
An intriguing remark on the junta:#
Perhaps, indeed, it may be laid down as a general rule, that a military government is, in some respects, more republican than monarchical. Nor can it be said that the soldiers only partoke of the government by their disobedience and rebellions. The speeches made to them by the emperors, were they not at length of the same nature as those formerly pronounced to the people by the consuls and the tribunes? And although the armies had no regular place or forms of assembly; though their debates were short, their action sudden, and their resolves seldom the result of cool reflection, did they not dispose, with absolute sway, of the public fortune? What was the emperor, except the minister of a violent government elected for the private benefit of the soldiers? [p. 213]
Recalling the barbarian traditions: "In the general festival that was solemnised every ninth year, nine animals of every species (without excepting the human) were sacrificed, and their bleeding bodies suspended in the sacred grove adjacent to the temple." (p. 268)#
Diocletian's remarks on the problems of a prince:#
`How often,' was he accustomed to say, `is it the interest of four or five ministers to combine together to deceive their sovereign! Secluded from mankind by his exalted dignity, the truth is concealed from his knowledge; he can see only with their eyes, he hears nothing but their misrepresentations. He confers the most important offices upon vice and weakness, and disgraces the most virtuous and deserving among his subjects. By such infamous arts,' added Diocletian, `the best and wisest princes are sold to venal corruption of their courtiers.' [p. 429]
The legendary chapter on Christianity really is quite awesome.#
The Jewish religion was admirably fitted for defence, but it was never designed for conquest; and it seems probable that the number of proselytes was never much superior to that of apostates. [p. 492]
Tertullian on the persecutors of Christians:
The condemnation of the wisest and most virtuous of the Pagans, on account of their ignorance or disbelief of the divine truth, seems to offend the reason and the humanity of the present age. (70) But the primitive church, whose faith was of a much firmer consistence, delivered over, without hesitation, to eternal torture the far greater part of the human species. A charitable hope might perhaps be indulged in favour of Socrates, or some other sages of antiquity, who had consulted the light of reason before that of the Gospel had arisen.(71) But it was unanimously affirmed that those who, since the birth or the death of Christ, had obstinately persisted in the worship of the daemons, neither deserved nor could expect a pardon from the irritated justice of the Deity. These rigid sentiments, which had been unknown to the ancient world, appear to have infused a spirit of bitterness into a system of love and harmony. The ties of blood and friendship were frequently torn asunder by the difference of religious faith; and the Christians, who, in this world, found themselves oppressed by the power of the Pagans, were sometimes seduced by resentment and spiritual pride to delight in the prospect of their future triumph. "You are fond of spectacles," exclaims the stern Tertullian, "expect the greatest of all spectacles, the last and eternal judgment of the universe. How shall I admire, how laugh, how rejoice, how exult, when I behold so many proud monarchs, and fancied gods, groaning in the lowest abyss of darkness; so many magistrates, who persecuted the name of the Lord, liquefying in fiercer fires than they ever kindled against the Christians; so many sage philosophers blushing in red hot flames with their deluded scholars; so many celebrated poets trembling before the tribunal, not of Minos, but of Christ; so many tragedians, more tuneful in the expression of their own sufferings; so many dancers - " But the humanity of the reader will permit me to draw a veil over the rest of this infernal description, which the zealous African pursues in a long variety of affected and unfeeling witticisms. [p. 518]
On conversion
The careless Polytheist, assailed by new and unexpected terrors, against which neither his priests nor his philosophers could afford him any certain protection, was very frequently terrified and subdued by the menace of eternal tortures. His fears might assist the progress of his faith and reason; and if he could once persuade himself to suspect that the Christian religion might possibly be true, it became an easy task to convince him that it was the safest and most prudent party that he could possibly embrace. [p. 541]
The reputation of Christians:
When the new converts had been enrolled in the number of the faithful, and were admitted to the sacraments of the church, they found themselves restrained from relapsing into their past disorders by another consideration of a less spiritual but of a very innocent and respectable nature. Any particular society that has departed from the great body of the nation, or the religion to which it belonged, immediately becomes the object of universal as well as invidious observation. In proportion to the smallness of its numbers, the character of the society may be affected by the virtue and vices of the persons who compose it; and every member is engaged to watch with the most vigilant attention over his own behaviour, and over that of his brethren, since, as he must expect to incur part of the common disgrace, he may hope to enjoy a share of the common reputation. [p. 525]
Clearly, Mormons are in a similar situation. This is an idea that is commonly preached actually.
Tertullian on shaving:
[The] practice of shaving the beard, which, according to the expression of Tertullian, is a lie against our own faces, and an impious attempt to improve the works of the Creator. [p. 528]
The best and most ironic ending ever:
But how shall we excuse the supine inattention of the Pagan and philosophic world to those evidences which were presented by the hand of Omnipotence, not to their reason, but to their senses? During the age of Christ, of his apostles, and of their first disciples, the doctrine which they preached was confirmed by innumerable prodigies. The lame walked, the blind saw, the sick were healed, the dead were raised, daemons were expelled, and the laws of Nature were frequently suspended for the benefit of the church. General silence concerning the darkness of the passion.But the sages of Greece and Rome turned aside from the awful spectacle, and, pursuing the ordinary occupations of life and study, appeared unconscious of any alterations in the moral or physical government of the world. Under the reign of Tiberius, the whole earth,(194) or at least a celebrated province of the Roman empire, (195) was involved in a preternatural darkness of three hours. Even this miraculous event, which ought to have excited the wonder, the curiosity, and the devotion of mankind, passed without notice in an age of science and history.(196) It happened during the lifetime of Seneca and the elder Pliny, who must have experienced the immediate effects, or received the earliest intelligence, of the prodigy. Each of these philosophers, in a laborious work, has recorded all the great phenomena of Nature, earthquakes, meteors, comets, and eclipses, which his indefatigable curiosity could collect. (197) Both the one and the other have omitted to mention the greatest phenomenon to which the mortal eye has been witness since the creation of the globe. A distinct chapter of Pliny (198) is designed for eclipses of an extraordinary nature and unusual duration; but he contents himself with describing the singular defect of light which followed the murder of Caesar, when, during the greatest part of a year, the orb of the sun appeared pale and without splendour. This season of obscurity, which cannot surely be compared with the preternatural darkness of the Passion, had been already celebrated by most of the poets(199) and historians of that memorable age.(200) [p. 565-566]