de Foncemagne, I was involved
in a dispute with the Abbe de Mably.... As I might be partial in my
own cause, I shall transcribe the words of an unknown critic. 'You
were, my dear Theodon, at M. de Foncemagne's house, when the Abbe de
Mably and Mr. Gibbon dined there along with a number of guests. The
conversation ran almost entirely on history. The Abbe, being a
profound politician, turned it while at dessert on the administration
of affairs, and as by genius and temper, and the habit of admiring
Livy, he values only the republican system, he began to boast of the
excellence of republics, being well persuaded that the learned
Englishman would approve of all he said and admire the profoundity of
genius that had enabled a Frenchman to discover all these advantages.
But Mr. Gibbon, knowing by experience the inconveniences of a popular
government, was not at all of his opinion, and generously took up the
defence of monarchy. The Abbe wished to convince him out of Livy, and
by some arguments drawn from Plutarch in favour of the Spartans. Mr.
Gibbon, being endowed with a most excellent memory, and having all
events present to his mind, soon got the command of the conversation.
The Abbe grew angry, they lost possession of themselves, and said hard
things of each other. The Englishman retaining his native coolness,
watched for his advantages, and pressed the Abbe with increasing
success in proportion as he was more disturbed by passion. The
conversation grew warmer, and was broken off by M. de Foncemagne's
rising from table and passing into the parlour, where no one was
tempted to renew it."

But if not brilliant in society, he was very _repandu_, and was
welcomed in the best circles. He was a member of Boodle's, White's,
Brooks's, and Almack's,[9] and "there were few persons in the literary
or political world to whom he was a stranger." It is to be regretted
that the best sketch of him at this period borders on caricature. "The
learned Gibbon," says Colman, "was a curious counterbalance to the
learned (may I not say the less learned) Johnson. Their manners and
tastes, both in writing and conversation, were as different as their
habiliments. On the day I first sat down with Johnson in his
rusty-brown suit and his black worsted stockings, Gibbon was placed
opposite to me in a suit of flowered velvet, with a bag and sword.
Each had his measured phraseology, and Johnson's famous parallel
between Dryden and Pope might be loosely p