n our language, especially
among the few who deserve to be compared with him, who is so
un-English, not in a bad sense of the word, as implying objectionable
qualities, but as wanting the clear insular stamp and native flavour.
If an intelligent Chinese or Persian were to read his book in a French
translation, he would not readily guess that it was written by an
Englishman. It really bears the imprint of no nationality, and is
emphatically European. We may postpone the question whether this is a
merit or a defect, but it is a characteristic. The result has
certainly been that he is one of the best-known of English prose
writers on the Continent, and one whom foreigners most readily
comprehend. This peculiarity, of which he himself was fully aware, we
may agree with him in ascribing to his residence at Lausanne. At the
"flexible age of sixteen he soon learned to endure, and gradually to
adopt," foreign manners. French became the language in which he
spontaneously thought; "his views were enlarged, and his prejudices
were corrected." In one particular he cannot be complimented on the
effect of his continental education, when he congratulates himself
"that his taste for the French theatre had abated his idolatry for the
gigantic genius of Shakespeare, which is inculcated from our infancy
as the first duty of Englishmen." Still it is well to be rid of
idolatry and bigotry even with regard to Shakespeare. We must remember
that the insular prejudices from which Gibbon rejoiced to be free were
very different in their intensity and narrowness from anything of the
kind which exists now. The mixed hatred and contempt for foreigners
which prevailed in his day, were enough to excite disgust in any
liberal mind.

The lucid order and admirable literary form of Gibbon's great work are
qualities which can escape no observant reader. But they are
qualities which are not common in English books. The French have a
saying, "Les Anglais ne savent pas faire un livre." This is unjust,
taken absolutely, but as a general rule it is not without foundation.
It is not a question of depth or originality of thought, nor of the
various merits belonging to style properly so-called. In these
respects English authors need not fear competition. But in the art of
clear and logical arrangement, of building up a book in such order and
method that each part contributes to the general effect of the whole,
we must own that we have many lessons to learn of our