Edward Gibbon's Enduring Legacy
A Critical Analysis of "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire"
Introduction
It’s a rare book that stands the test of time - and even rarer for it to be a history book. With the ever-changing historiography, history books tend to grow irrelevant and dated over time. Edward Gibbon’s The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire has not only survived, but has become a masterpiece of deep analysis. This vast, six-volume work takes the reader through a detailed re-evaluation of Rome and the causes of Rome’s fall. There are hundreds of sub-theses in this book, but they are tied together under a central tenet - Rome’s decline was the result of a gradual decay of morality and civic virtue. Gibbon’s argument that civic morality faltered as religion cast an aura of indifference over Rome has sparked everything from outraged criticism to broad support. Wherever one stands on the issue, our society can learn from the mistakes of the Romans and perhaps use Gibbon’s warnings to prevent our own societal downfall. However, to truly appreciate its impact we have to engage with Gibbons’ work - immerse ourselves in Roman culture, absorb their stories and then use them to navigate the challenges of our own society.
Background
Edward Gibbon grew up as a sickly child in Putney, Surrey, and would continue to battle illness (and later, obesity) until his death at age 56. As a chronically ill child and young adult he never made close friends, but channelled his loneliness inwards through his voracious reading habit, which typically consisted of ten to twelve hours of focused study. His ability to channel loneliness and isolation into focused study of the past drove his curiosity and honed his ability to write such an expansive book. Even later in life, a love affair that was cut short because of Gibbon’s father’s disapproval reinforced his isolation, as he never had a family. One real-life experience that he could draw upon for material was his time serving in the Hampshire militia and as an aide to Lord North during the American revolution, which was in stark contrast to the rest of his life in isolation. This experience he saw how courage, warfare, strategy and politics defined a society - in his memoirs, Of My Life and Writing, he seethes at the lost years and ‘rustic officers’ that grew corrupt and did not comprehend the importance of their position and role in society. But he acknowledges that the military made him feel a part of his native society, perhaps in a way that he lacked elsewhere in his otherwise isolated life.
The general system of our government, the methods of our several offices, the departments and powers of their respective officers, our provincial and municipal administration, the views of our several parties, the characters, connexions, and influence of our principal people, have been impressed on my mind, not by vain theory, but by the indelible lessors of action and experience.
Historians are a product of their environment, and the Enlightenment enabled the intellectually curious, those independent of convention. Gibbon was never a trained historian. His father sent him to Oxford in 1753, which Gibbon writes were ‘the most idle and unprofitable’ fourteen months of his life. Oxford expelled him for converting from Protestantism to Roman Catholicism, which was both illegal and infuriating to university authorities. He never went back to university, the almost mandatory route for aspiring historians, and never attached himself to an institution of higher learning. His study of history was quite informal, driven through intense curiosity and an almost super-human work ethic. Perhaps an added benefit of not being attached to higher learning was his independence, his ability to experience Rome as a pure interest, as opposed to seeing Rome through the lens of organizations with set agendas. Gibbon had a practical skepticism in his writing that would have went against the training that his fellow historians received, and because he was not beholden to the university or church, he could delve into controversial topics. Until this time, perhaps no other writer was as suited as Gibbon was to write the definitive history on the decline of the Roman Empire.
Much attention is focused exclusively on Gibbon’s most controversial points, especially his argument that Christianity created a societal schism in Rome and led to its downfall. While there are indeed controversial takes, the book is a masterpiece of historiography for its time. While Gibbon had relatively limited primary sources upon which to base his research, he was meticulous in how he presented information - there are thousands of notations and footnotes in which he dialogued his views on the source’s trustworthiness, value and accuracy. Like Thucydides, he addressed speculation and counterpoints to his argument, and he detailed limitations in sources that led to gaps in his analysis. Also like Thucydides, he provides his own unique perspective along with his historical writing, allowing him to provide facts and evidence in addition to his own moral views. Historian Ernst Breisach writes that Gibbon “combined French influence, erudition, and traditional narrative history into a new, important, and attractive type of history writing-all of it without fundamentally altering the role of history in English society.” Even his most ardent critics, such as David Potter and JB Bury, used “The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire” in its entirety in their own research, and virtually every Roman historian has encountered Gibbon at some point in their studies. While portions of book may spark controversy and debate, the book itself is based upon sound historical methodology and must be commended for its balanced assessment and affirmation of sources.
Gibbon does not simply repeat the facts on hand. Roman annals, the annual reports that recorded the events of the year, have a tendency to be heavily biased and ‘bland’. Yet, they are instrumental to research of Roman society. Despite Gibbon’s heavy reliance on the annals, he breathes life into the records by drawing out the emotions, environment and settings for these events - he puts them into the context of Roman society. As Daniel Boorstin writes,
It is more accurate to insist that for Gibbon, there are no trivia. Human habits, utterances, exclamations, and emotions are the very essence of his history - not mere raw material for distilling ‘forces’ and ‘movements’. Gibbon seemed to live in the moment he wrote about, and as he willingly admitted, this work consumed his entire life. Many of the annals written by the Romans provided meaningful information, but in a manner that saw history as a collection of facts, rather than a rich tapestry of humanity. In a sense, Gibbon translated much of this information into enjoyable reading that contemporary society can learn and glean meaningful insights from. Evidence of his popularity is clear, considering the instant fame he received after release of volume one. English society treated his work as if it were a popular fiction serial, anxious for the next release and selling out copies throughout the country. Gibbon’s unique ability to reach into the emotion and detail of the Roman empire and bring out the humanity truly lets the reader feel as if they were experiencing Rome’s rich history right there with them.
Themes of the Book
Gibbons does not argue that there was one solitary cause for the decline and fall of the Roman empire, as he might have done had he received formal training in historiography. He provides extensively nuanced, multi-faceted sub-theses, all of which are intertwined. For instance, Gibbon discusses a sustained decadence as a result of relative peace, which caused the army to lose motivation and Roman society to no longer revere its martial spirit. To compensate, Rome hired barbarian mercenaries for defense, ensuring a schism between the comfortable life of a Roman citizen and the sacrifice required in defense of empire. This caused paralyzing revolts and political decay and further weakened the empire as their mercenaries turned on them. As crisis after crisis arose, Roman society no longer had the fortitude to address, much less sacrifice their lifestyle, for the good of the empire. Gibbon writes about all of these topics in depth, but it would be difficult to elevate any of these factors as the sole reason for Rome’s fall. Gibbon’s freedom from formal academic training allowed him to explore all of these ideas in depth, in his own way, rather than focus on a solitary thesis to placate historiographical convention.
Critics tend to focus their attacks on Gibbon’s assertion that Christianity pacified the Romans and created a culture of indifference to the empire. While Gibbon made this argument, it is one of many, and cannot be isolated from the context of Rome’s downfall. The antipathy at times between Christianity and the Roman Empire is indisputable, but was one of many societal themes. Whether one agrees or disagrees with Christianity’s role in Rome’s downfall, it is intellectually dishonest to create a straw-man argument to refute the entire book. In his analysis of Gibbon, Eugene Ho concludes that
In all these questions, we may never know the answer; but perhaps all the alternatives were equally present, for Man's most important actions usually proceed from mixed and dubious motives -- virtue and vice are unequally distributed, but hardly ever mutually exclusive. So by using language to open up a multiplication of meanings, Gibbon wants the reader to be unsettled and become aware of the illusion that history contains meanings and solutions. With over one and a half million words over six volumes, Gibbon spreads his argument out over a wide scope - the reader could find hundreds of interwoven sub-theses within the work. There is a constant theme of “luxury” and “decadence” and its role in turning the Romans into morally, patriotically and militarily ambivalent citizens, putting their faith in indulgences rather than working to turn around the dire circumstances unfolding around them. Gibbon writes: The rich and luxurious nobles, sinking into their natural character, accepted, as a favour, this disgraceful exemption from military service; and as long as they were indulged in the enjoyment of their baths, their theatres, and their villas, they cheerfully resigned the more dangerous cares of empire to the rough hands of peasants and soldiers.
The Republic of Rome was built with strong hands, upon the shoulder of valiant warriors, dominant leaders and the will of the people. There is a quote, “Desperation is sometimes as powerful an inspirer as genius”, meaning that those who have nothing to lose will work the hardest to make something of themselves - the formation of Rome was no exception. Rome’s tumultuous upbringing, to include hundreds of battles for survival ingrained a martial spirit in the people. In Rome, one of the most prestigious positions one could hold was that of a legionnaire or centurion, Rome’s most distinguished military unit. With arduous training, discipline and a twenty-five year commitment to fight in the name of Rome, these soldiers understood that Roman society was created under harsh conditions, and had to be sustained through willpower and sacrifice. Thousands of these men went on to powerful political leadership positions within Rome, as it became a virtual necessity to have military experience before one could make decisions for the whole of the empire. Roman society was formed and sustained through its golden years under a clear martial legacy. Gibbons seeks to answer whether an empire so interconnected with war and sacrifice could survive when peace and prosperity no longer valued these moral tenets.
Writing about his own military experience, Gibbon advocates for a martial spirit that is not synonymous with gratuitous violence - it should be a shared understanding of putting the needs of society ahead of individual well-being. When advocating for a military-centered society, he is not advocating bloodthirsty military conquest, as he clearly denounces mindless violence. For instance, with regard to the second of the “Good Emperors” of Rome, he writes:
Trajan was ambitious of fame; and as long as mankind shall continue to bestow more liberal applause on their destroyers than on their benefactors, the thirst of military glory will ever be the vice of the most exalted characters. But if a society is not willing to fight for what they believe in, and willing to sacrifice for their moral tenets, over time they lose the context of what it takes to maintain an empire. Peace is a desirable end, but the danger with this is the resulting complacency.
Without a true threat, the Roman military lost the sense of urgency that it held together and the prestige that used to come with being a legionnaire. The patricians no longer considered military service a pre-requisite for leadership roles, and farmed these once coveted positions off to barbarians, foreigners and the lower class.
It is scarcely possible that the eyes of contemporaries should discover in the public felicity the latent causes of decay and corruption. This long peace, and the uniform government of the Romans, introduced a slow and secret poison into the vitals of the empire. The minds of men were gradually reduced to the same level, the fire of genius was extinguished, and even the military spirit evaporated.
The loss of civic virtue extended beyond the military, as patricians avoided laborious jobs. Agriculture and farming lost its appeal, devolving from an essential and honorable enterprise to an unglamorous industry fueled by indentured servitude and slavery. Gibbon questions how such an essential task that was always at the center of social life became a nuisance to the leaders of Rome. While catastrophes involving the food and grain supply frequently shocked Rome, these lessons were quickly forgotten as soon as the crises were over. Another recurring theme that Gibbon brings up is the dichotomy between “love of pleasure” and “love of action.” In a philosophic style that few could emulate, Gibbon explains that as long as the love of pleasure is refined through literature, art, and social engagement, it is a worthy endeavor. Similarly, love of action is how society faces challenges, the willingness to step forward and make things happen. There must be a balance between the two - love of action can lead to war, violence, anger, and emotionally driven responses, while love of pleasure can lead to idolatry and sloth. When combined with a sense of moral and benevolent justice, the love of action forms the basis of virtue that can define a great empire.
To the love of pleasure we may therefore ascribe most of the agreeable, to the love of action we may attribute most of the useful and respectable, qualifications. The character in which both the one and the other should be united and harmonized would seem to constitute the most perfect idea of human nature.
The barbarian invasion dented the Roman’s previously undaunted persona, but war is not won simply by the side with the superior strength. Mark Twain coined the term ‘Gilded Age’ when referencing the American era in the late 19th century where solid progress in the industrial and manufacturing sectors hid the more insidious moral problems of racism, sexism and political corruption. This term is an apt comparison to what Gibbon refers to. Just as in 19th century America, the Romans looked every bit like the prosperous empire, with an extensive road system, well-developed cities and towns, prosperous trade, brilliant scholars, and grand works of art. However, a closer look showed a quickly faltering political system, a growing separation between social classes, an outsourced military filled with members of dubious allegiance, and a bureaucracy unable to support the enormous land mass that was Rome. The list and examples of all the ways Rome was beginning to lose its seemingly perpetual dominance are too many to name. However, the citizens of Rome, who should have been dictating its path and working for the greater good of this longstanding empire, lost their way. Augustus, lauded as one of the greatest men to rule this empire and was deified for his efforts, started the decline when he created an “absolute monarchy disguised by the forms of a commonwealth.” It would take a great emperor to willingly give up the power inherited from his forefathers, and while Augustus’ legacy as a valiant and noble leader were revered, he placated the citizens into the feeling that their opinions, discipline and diligence were no longer needed to keep the country running. The citizens themselves have as much a hand in this as Augustus, as they willingly ceded their integral responsibilities into one individual. The clear distinctions between the Republic and Empire highlight the fact that while an Empire may be buoyed by strong leaders such as Augustus, Trajan or Hadrian, autocratic rule placates the citizens into thinking they no longer have a role to play in running the empire.
Controversy and Critiques
To understand Gibbon’s work you must understand his views on religion (Christianity in particular) and the resulting criticism that came with it. His perspective of religion in the Roman Empire was harsh, and he makes very pointed critiques against both the Christians in the Roman Empire and the Church’s role in allegedly perpetuating lies for their own benefit. It is difficult to ignore comments such as “The Church of Rome defended by violence the empire which she had acquired by fraud,” or “future tyrants were encouraged to believe that the innocent blood which they might shed in a long reign would instantly be washed away in the waters of regeneration; and the abuse of religion dangerously undermined the foundations of moral virtue.” Gibbon could be accused of what David Fischer describes as the reductive fallacy, which “reduces complexity to simplicity, or diversity to uniformity, in causal explanations.” In addition, these comments themselves are too broad to be tied to any individual event, and thus are opinions rather than provable facts. Imparting moral values on the past is often waged subtly (although this goes against the role of an historian), nudging the reader towards a conclusion without saying it directly. Gibbon has no goal of waging this battle subtly.
Most of the criticism comes from the Church, understandably writing to preserve its legacy and history. Historians also take issue with his theory about religion. Peter Heather, a contemporary historian out of King’s College contradicts Gibbon’s assertion that the Roman Empire was faltering due to internal issues. In fact, he argues that the Roman Empire was actually at a strong point in the fifth century - archaeological sites in the 19th century (thus not known to Gibbon) found evidence of an agricultural boom, a military that numbered between four and six hundred thousand, and a political environment that, while not perfect, still functioned. Instead, beginning with the Huns in the fourth century, it was migration from East to West that put unbearable force on Rome and led to the collapse. After all, the Eastern, or Byzantine Empire, went on to survive for another millennium, and was in a state worse than Rome at the time. If Christianity was the one crucial force in bringing down Rome, then why did it only affect the Western Roman Empire, and not the Eastern? There are virtually no primary sources that specifically address Gibbon’s claims, and many critics point out that Gibbon cannot support any of his theories in regards to Christianity and its role in the decline. It is impossible to “prove” whether Gibbon is right or wrong, because the subject is open to interpretation on both sides. But more importantly, Gibbon’s freedom to explore ideas, hypothesize and provide arguments for controversial ideas is what makes history such a compelling ecosystem of ideas.
There are many incendiary quotations, and looking at this work with the benefit of hindsight, Gibbon provides too much of his own perspective, rather than allowing his superb research speak for itself. He treads a fine line between history and a treatise of his own opinions. His opinions detract from his historical methodology, attracting criticism from all corners. For instance, at the very beginning of the book, he writes “After a war of about forty years, undertaken by the most stupid, maintained by the most dissolute, and terminated by the most timid of emperors…” Unfortunately, this criticism on his more bombastic takes lessens the impact on some of his more compelling and less controversial theories. As previously noted, Gibbon was an amateur historian, self-taught and skilled in a field dominated by professionals. The purpose of this book was to analyze the decline and fall of the Roman Empire, and Gibbon works every perspective possible, including through philosophical and sociological analysis. Gibbon breaks some of the basic rules of historical methodology when he overreaches in his criticism of Christianity. In his defense, he wasn’t attempting to be a simple an historian, but rather write a book for everyone that brought the Roman Empire, with all its glories and faults, to life.
Even Gibbon’s most ardent critics, such as JB Bury, praise his impeccable research methods, which have largely stood the test of time and intense scrutiny. “His historical work was mainly concerned with the later Roman empire, and his edition of Gibbon's Decline and Fall, with a masterly introduction and valuable notes, is the standard text of this history”. The role of an historian is to see patterns, infer importance, and make conclusions, often without all the evidence and sources. Gibbon is simply doing what he sought out to do, which is to provide the best analysis with the most applicable data. While questioning religious values may perhaps be controversial, his duty as a scholar mandates that he not shy away from the unpopular. While the Enlightenment undoubtedly affected Gibbon’s mindset and perspective, the claims that he is simply “biased” are unfounded, as it is the role of the historian to make conclusions within an accurate and reliable framework.
Conclusion
Gibbon’s masterpiece is the definitive work on Rome’s decline, and even his most ardent critics praise his historiography and narrative. While he will be known as an historian, his role should be extended to that of a philosopher and commentator as well. Granted, there are portions of his work that do not strictly follow his assumed role as unbiased analyst, but this was never his intent. Balanced by numerous sub-theses, Gibbon argues that Rome fell due to a spiraling decline in civic and political morality, prevalent everywhere from the military’s “barbarianization” to Augustus’ creation of an autocracy disguised as a commonwealth. One way of describing the book is that Gibbon “asked why Rome declined but gave his answer in an intricate narrative rather than through a simple formula for the growth and decay of human institutions.” Each of the factors of causation that Gibbon brings up have validity, and while there is plenty of room to argue the correct effect or correlation of each one, his work has largely withstood the test of time. Even his most controversial point, Christianity’s role in the decline has the most solid research possible considering his argument is dependent upon selective censorship. In totality, Gibbon lives up to his reputation of following in the footsteps of Thucydides, taking the reader through the winding history through the decline of the Roman empire.
The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire will continue to stand the test of time, as it speaks to every nation and society, while at the same time imparting lessons to us at the personal level. After all, the book was wildly popular and reads like a novel. When the great general Scipio Africanus finally conquered Carthage, he overlooked the wanton destruction of the razed city and cried unabashedly. Overshadowing the vast casualties, violence and horror, he realized that there would come a time that Rome would see a similar fate as Carthage. Shouting the famous Homer quote “The day shall come when sacred Troy shall fall, and King Priam shall be laid low, and all his warriors with him” he understood that nothing is sustainable forever, and Rome’s dominance could very soon fall into danger. While there is some mythology to this story, everyone can learn from Rome’s example and perhaps avoid some of its pitfalls. Hans-Friedrich Mueller writes “Let us hope that we read not a blueprint, but a salutary warning in Gibbon’s immortal and pleasurably instructive pages.”