The times. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1890-1903, 1896-04-15
Gibbon and kepler.
Ry THE REV NJ d. HOGE, D. i


THE Decline and Fall OF the Roman En-
pre- are tinged with such a pensive nue.
and characterized by such a tender grace
Of expression that the paragraph contain
ing them is recognized as one OF the
choicest passages in English literature.
Taking us into his confidence at thiS
memorable moment OF his life, he tells
us that IL was between the hours OF
eleven and twelve on a calm night IN
June that he wrote the last lines OF the
last page in n summer-house In his gar
den at Lausanne. After laying down his
non he took several turns IN covered
walk Of acacias which commanded a
prospect of the country the lake, ana me
mountains The air was temperate ths
sky was serene the silver orb OF the moon
was reflected from the water, ana all
nature was silent" Il will not dlssem-
BILE" says he 1.-THE first emotions OF JOY
on the recovery Of my freedom, ana per
haps the establishment OF my fame. BUT
my pride was soon humbled, and sooer
melancholy was spread over my mind ny
the idea that had taken an everlasting
leave of an old and agreeable companl'ci'
and that whatsoever might be the future
duration Of my history. the lie or the
historian must be short ana precarious'
But the classic beauty Of this review
which Gibbon makes Of the chiet LABOR
OF his life must not 50 beguilc as TO make
us obivious to the dangerously insdious
thread which runs through the SIX VOL
umes Of his history.
In The prosecution Of a design so vast
as that of representing by a panoramic
view the decline and fall of the greatest
power that ever bestrode the world, so
intelligent a writer could not overlook
the influence Of one mighty and ever
prominent agency in the development OF
the civilization Of the centuries in when
his story lies.
The new religion which claimed a di-
vine origin, and which continued to grow
and make fresh conquests, whether power
smiled or frowned upon 1t, necessarily
| arrested his attention in every field OF
his investigation. lie was compelled,
therefore, either to admit its claims 10 be
a supernatural religion, or, II he denied
this, TO account for its wide extension
and Transforming power, and to do IL IN
| a satisfactory manner. But he nowhere
| explicitly denies the divine origin Of
| Christianity. on the contrary. he admits
| that were it supernatural. its spread and
| triumphs would be satisfactorily account
| ed for But having exhausted his can
dor by that admission, he hastens TO
| vitiate its force by enumcrating certain
| secondary causes''-merely natural or
| human-to explain its growth and con-
| quests. II second causes, or human
agencies Of any kind could produce these
results. then. of course, there would be
no need of the hypothesis of first cause,
! and the enigma would be solved without
| the Intervention of a God.
Nothing can exceed the adroitness and
| the untiring ingenuity with which he
| pursues this method; avoiding positive
| assertion, but dealing in subtle insinua-
| tons; not making bold deductions Of his
| own, but presenting such erroneous prem
| ises as TO lead his reader to make for
| himself the very differences TO which his
| insidious guide was slyly conducting him.
| This policy is the very perfection Of I'M
| fdel art The acutest logician cannot
| answer an inuendo; the profoundest rea-
| soner cannot cOnfute an .nsidiOus sugges
! ton.
| Talfourd, author Of the beautiful trag
| edy of Ion tells US what passed through
| his own mind i'm visiting Gibbons garden
| on the banks of the beautiful lake, where
| he had his residence, and when he stood
| under the acacas. beneath which Glib
| bon took his evening walk after writing
| the last lines Of the work 10 which he had
| devoted so many years Of his life. Tai
| fourd finds something unspeakably sad
| in the satisfaction Gibbon expressed
something that Jared on his finer SEN
| sibilities when he remembered the his
| torian's INSTRUMENTATION in the re-
| view of his long labor. Talfourd could
| not forget that Gibbons patient research,
his dramatic arrangement Of actors and
scenery, his oriental splendor Of style
| and his years Of studious toll had been
devoted 10 the task Of stripping Chris
| tianity OF its divinest elements. and OF
eclpsng the light Of Christian hope by
| a rayless skepticism, and that all this
| haI n n ha q
youth or in the wild play of animal spir-
| its. but in mature years, when judgment
| was ripe, and when experience had taken
! tho place Of juvenile recklessncss. Says
| he: THAT evening walk was an awful
| thing TO mediate on: the walk OF "a man
| of rare capacities, tending 10 his own
| physical decline among the Seventies Of
| loveliest nature, enjoying the thought that
| in the chief work of his life he had en-
bodied a hatred of the doctrines which
teach men TO love each other 10 forgive
| injuries, and TO hope for diviner life
| beyond the grave, and eXulting in the
conviction that this work would survive
TO teach its deadly lessons to young in
| genuOus students when he should be
dust"
| In vivid contrast with Gibbons reflec-
tions on the completion OF his history, We
have those OF the nlustrious Kepler, eX-
1
at the completion of his great work on
| Astronomy.
SAYS he: at now only remains that !
should lift up my eyes and my hands
from the table of my pursuits and humbly
supplicate the Father Of lights. o, Thou,
who by the light OF nature dost enkindle
in us a desire after the light OF grace
that Thou mayest translate us into the
light of glory; 1 give Thee hearty thanks,
o Lord and Creator. that Thou hast
gaddened me by the work OF Thy hands.
Behold / have completed a work OF my
calling with as much intellectual strength
as Thou hast granted me. l have declar-
ed the praise of Thy creation 70 the men
who win read the evidences Of II, so far
as my finite spirit could comprehend Its
infinity. But If anything unworthy Of
Thee has been taught by me- do Thou
teach me. that / may correct IT, II l
| lave been seduced INTO presumption by
the admirable beauty OF Thy creation, or
| if | nave sought my own glory IN the
| construction Of a work designed for Thine
honor, @ graciously and mercifully for
give me. and grant me this final favor.
that my work may never be injurious,
but conduce 10 Thy glory and TO the good
OF souls"
How refreshing is the contrast Here
we see the iilustriods student Of nature
! emerging from it's Illuminated fields, that
he might walk III the higher realm CT
| grace. and then rise into the superndl
kingdom of glory: and yet In his numil-
| ity. fearing lest he should haze been be-
| trayed into presumption in h.ndlng
| things too high for him, or into pride by