look at the ponderous and countless volumes lettered 'Hist. Rer.' or Univ. Hist.' which rest almost untouched upon the shelves of every good library, we feel some compassion for those industrious men who have laid up a store to which few have recourse, and make it a question with ourselves, why they are so generally overlooked! And we confess to have come to this conclusion, that in addition to the dryness of crude detail, and the sameness that the actions of mankind maintain, much of the neglect to which they are subject may be traced to their own deficiencies.

There is a kind of historical genius, not altogether distinct from poetical talent, without which no one will arrest attention, or leave vivid impressions upon the general mind. That native fire of the soul, which constitutes the poet, has a twin-sister spirit engaged on a humbler though still a sacred subjecthistory. It is a gift; it shows itself often at an early age in powers of description and narrative, and survives in the loquaciousness of grey hairs, a distinct and peculiar gift. The uncultivated mind of one who is acknowledged to tell a good story;' of a nurse, whose memory is the treasure-house of things marvellous; of that peculiar person (and no neighbourhood is without such) who chronicles the history of every family around,--here is frequently to be discovered the latent genius of a historian, the almost poet of actual life. This is the germ out of which is to be developed, under the fostering hand of cultivation, that attractive talent for the composition of History, without which it is wiser and safer for any one to decline entering these lists for fame: no mere imitation of phraseology, and the careful use of conventional terms, can atone for the want of this natural gift; if they could, historians might be made to order at public schools and universities. Nor is the most exact and careful compilation of events to be designated history; for if so, the Annual Register might suffice us for all common purposes. The writer who would rank as historian must inherit some of that engaging genius with which bards and eulogists of former days were so largely endowed. This was the great charm that Herodotus imparted to his historical recitations, and kindled the spark of genius that lay dormant in the second, perhaps the greatest, of Grecian historians. Such must we accord to Xenophon also; to Cæsar and Livy; and amongst moderns, to Froissart and Robertson. And, admirable as we must admit Cicero's 'Law of History' to be, we think it fortunate for his reputation that he never executed his design of writing the history of his own country, as it certainly would have been as great had he never tried his hand at poetry. The most powerful mind may be, and frequently is, entirely desti

tute of the 'narrative faculty.' But we pass on to consider the other requisites which constitute the good historian.

Truth being the professed aim of all who undertake this task, boldness and impartiality are amongst the first things required by the reader, and also promised by the writer; but who does not know the infinite number of occasions that may arise either to disturb or to suspend the full tranquillity of perfect impartiality? Evidence is so fugitive; the canon of credibility so little agreed upon; the sources of historical information are so various, so opposed to each other, so intricate and unsatisfactory, that we are inclined to place the composition of a faithful history amongst the highest achievements of the human mind. Ample powers of imagination are required to transfer a lively picture of the times, and scenes, and persons described; and yet how necessary it is also for the soundest judgment to be exercised that the very truth may be represented. We cannot endure colouring to increase the effect, and yet look for more than a tame stiff outline, and want the artist's aid to prevent our history from becoming a mere procès verbal. What a field there is for displaying powers of the highest order, when the line of truth can be only one, whereas the paths of error must be infinite! Even that intense and passionate love of truth which is so captivating and heroic, be it ever so unfeigned and earnest, will not avail for maintaining impartiality; objects must be viewed through some medium; the mind must come to its task with some fixed principles and habits of thought, and the representation of facts will be coloured by the prevailing tone of mind in the narrator; the very simplest story will discover something of the teller, however warily his words be chosen, and this we hold to be so general as to extend even beyond pure narrative; the very mathematician displays the cast of his own mind by the nature of the proofs that he employs. Now, confessedly, what on all accounts we look for in history, is not this man or the other's version of events, but the plain unvarnished tale of actual transactions with all their attendant causes and consequences, motives and feelings; and, acknowledging the manifold difficulties that lie in the historian's way,-of such a nature too, as we have just observed, as to seem almost insuperable, it is a grave question whether any method can be suggested for avoiding error altogether, and to what extent we can ever hope to see this realized. There are persons, not numbered perhaps among our ordinary readers, who, should they by any chance light on this passage, will look upon our inquiry as a forlorn hope, or as a dream promising the philosopher's stone or perpetual motion; but we trust that there are many who have already divined the answer we are preparing to make, and whose

concurrence in it we earnestly desire. The natural craving after absolute truth has at all times had recourse to different securities and provisions against error, by which authors have hoped to be guided through the tangled maze of facts and opinions. In early and simple writers we meet with an invocation for supernatural assistance, which, so long as it was sincere and faithful, could not fail to engender some of that serious sobriety, which leads to the adoption and the expression of truth, though it degenerated, we know, into a mere form of introduction utterly destitute of reality. Some historians enter upon their labours with an avowed expectation of finally settling every disputed point, relying upon their superior means of information, or because they have discovered the errors of preceding writers, and are determined to guard against the same and the like. But self-reliance is no safeguard against any dangers, least of all the dangers of authorship. Some writers have thought to overrule their political bias by dealing always in contradictory statements, and leaving the reader to gather the truth for himself as he best can, and from the bottom of a well indeed, inculcating the maxim that the truth is ever to be found midway between the statements of contending parties. Of this we have had a recent example in Mr. Macaulay's History of England. He affects great impartiality by producing opposite authorities, and intends to leave the impression on his reader's mind that what really occurred was somewhere between the two extremes; this is his favourite figure of composition; but it is not, in the first place, applicable to facts, which admit of no degree; and secondly, he has actually created and coined extremes, in order to bring his own version into the supposed medium of truth. Let him not deceive himself, he can never be a historian; he may support his friends in power by celebrating the cause of the glorious Revolution;' but he is destitute of many of those qualities which would entitle him to be enrolled in the honourable corps of historical bards. We are far from denying that diverging and contradictory statements should be compared; this is of course a chief duty for the historian: we condemn the application of that much questioned Aristotelian doctrine of the mean and extremes to the debated facts of history, and dismiss with contempt an author who stoops to support his party by tampering with original documents. Again, we have remarked in other writers so much sensitiveness to the imputation of partiality, as to bear the appearance of addressing their opponents only, aiming at the approbation of their enemies, and adapting their statements to the wishes and views which they do not themselves avowedly hold; they are descrters, and should be treated as such. This is an attempt on the part of conscientious men to

counteract the natural bias of their own opinions; but, excusable or even meritorious as the attempt may be, the same ill effects result from it as would proceed from an affectation of charity, namely, one-sided history. It is a high and praiseworthy aim indeed to aspire after absolute impartiality, but it requires a steady head to stand long on such an eminence, and a steady hand to record the actions and words of men without any bias whatever. Here we will introduce an admirable passage from F. Schlegel's Lectures on Modern History, for which we are obliged to the recently published translation; it contains the root of that solution to the great difficulty of historians of which we are now speaking :

'That history is written with partiality is a universal complaint. In the ordinary and literal sense this complaint ought not to be made, if we survey history from a lofty point of view. If, in his narrative a writer of history has in view merely the advantage of some individual state, or some special political object, and not the general interests of mankind and the progress of human destinies, in that case he may be perhaps a skilful advocate, an able orator, a distinguished political writer, but by no means is he an historian. But if a genuine historian sets before us facts, as they are, without falsification, and with the strictest conscientiousness,-for so he is required, and so it is self-evident he ought to do;—and if, with respect to his views and opinions, without which it is impossible to write history, or at least a lively historic narrative, he frankly states the principles of belief and right which determine his views and opinions; then we cannot complain with justice, for he himself furnishes us with the means of easily ascertaining how far we can agree with him or not. Of partiality we ought not to accuse him, even if we should differ from him in opinion; or at least the word then has no longer any very reprehensible sense. In general it is in history as in life itself, when it may often be more praiseworthy to choose and join the right party, than to remain without any party, ever neutral and indifferent. The example of a great Roman writer will best serve to illustrate my meaning. Tacitus opens his two immortal works, of different tendency, with the same assertion,-that they were written without hate, as without love. In this, perhaps, he only alluded to his own personal relations under this or that particular emperor, which might indeed more readily occur to his cotemporaries. But if his impressions were to be taken strictly we should then do him injustice. For it is precisely the high moral hate, glowing through his pages, and the exalted love visible in them; the hate namely of unrighteous despotism and degrading vice, and the decided watchful love for every thing worthy of better times; these things it is that render his works immortal, that have given them an imperishable value for all ages. Not impartial is Tacitus—this any one without intellect or love can easily be. No! he is in the highest degree partial, but his partiality is for the right party, and expressed in a just and noble manner.'-P. 3.

With this opinion, so far as relates to secular history, we cordially agree. It is fallacious to suppose it possible for any human being to divest himself of all passion and feeling, inclination and conviction, in order that he may sit in judgment on the actions and lives of others; and, if he could, his production would be an unnatural and monstrous performance, that could

find no sympathy in the human heart. Socrates in his basket, or Archimedes looking about for an unearthly spot on which to fix his fulcrum, are not more ridiculous than to aim at independent impartiality of this kind. But let no one too hastily conclude from these declarations on our part, that we suppose no history of perfect truthfulness has ever been written, or, as a consequence of the infirmities of mankind, ever could be composed. We believe that there has been, and that there still exists perfectly impartial history in the Book of Holy Revelation, and moreover, that it is practicable for one who is under the guidance of Him who inspired the Scriptures, to compose a true and faithful history of the Church. This latter proposition we will proceed to support with certain arguments, elementary indeed in themselves, but evidently not obvious to many persons; the former we assume as granted, while the clamours and objections which such an announcement will certainly excite, must be deferred until we have stated our own case.

First, we beg all our readers who can, to realize in their own minds the theory of the Church, such as it is asserted and maintained to be, by faithful sons of every generation and every land. The Church is a spiritual creation of God, made visible in the faithful; mysterious in constitution, in doctrine, in the Sacraments, and also in the powers entrusted to it. For the Church does lay claim to supernatural powers, not exhibited in every age in proof of its divine mission, as the Romanists pretend, though they cannot substantiate it, but still in the judgment of every Catholic capable of being called forth into action by Him whose original gift they were, acting nevertheless upon the hearts and minds of the faithful as really and effectually as did the open manifestations of the Spirit. If this be an essential characteristic of the nature of the Church, how incomplete must be the history which relates only to the externals of this institution, to its points of contact with the world considered politically only; and then, reverently applying the reasoning of the Sacred Book contained in 1 Cor. ii. 11, What man knoweth the things of a man save the spirit of man 'which is in him? even so the things of God knoweth no man 'but the Spirit of God;' we may for our parts deny that one who is no member of Christ's Church can enter into the fortunes and destinies of it; and if going before unbelievers for judgment is prohibited by the Apostle to Christian brethren, when any case of disagreement between them occurs, it is, we think, a fair inference that to receive the history of the Church at the hands of infidels or of misbelievers is also a departure from the line of duty prescribed by Scripture. And since, unfortunately, true membership is very vaguely interpreted amongst us, and we have an