THE WORKS OF JOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY.

OOKS of all kinds whatsoever be they, nursery

BOOKS

rhymes or treatises on abstruse mathematics, are in the long run nothing but historical documents.* If this is so, then history becomes not only the most important study, but the only one, the study which includes them all. There are only a few, however, who know how to gather together the facts transmitted to us from the past generations, few who can so color and vivify these facts, as to present them in a form that will both instruct and interest society. Motley is about the only American who has been able to give us a book relating no events, attributing no deed to the actors in the scene, not authenticated by sufficient testimony, and above all, giving a clear idea of the spirit and character of the age. In short, he seems to be the only one on this side of the water who has reached any degree of perfection in the historical art. There are now in existence two general styles of historical composition. In the older type, of which Hume and Gibbon are the most eminent examples, the annals, correspondence, records, &c., of the time are taken up and fashioned by the author, and then presented to the public, arranged in his own sentences, and setting forth his own peculiar views in regard to the characters and events. The danger in writing a history according to this style is, that either the author becomes so carried away by his imagination, that he distorts and twists the facts until hardly a resemblance of the truth in regard to the real state of affairs can be discovered, or lends himself to controversy and discussion, suppressing or merely gliding over the testimony fatal to his side of the question, and bringing only the favorable circumstances and those which give support to his case into prominence,—in short, he becomes a lawyer, bent only upon winning the suit for his client. The other and newer style of historical composition dates from "Carlyle's History of the French Revolution;" at least this is the first conspicuous

*Carlyle.

example. It claims to be more interesting and more instructive than the other form, to have a more vivacious narrative, and still to be more in accordance with historical accurateness; in fact to offer all the attractions of an historical novel, combined with the instruction to be gained from a history itself. It accomplishes its end by quoting largely from contemporary annals, by reproducing the speech of an eye witness, and by gathering from different sources the minutest details of everything pertaining to the scene. Instead of throwing a few letters and quotations into the appendix, the narrative itself is lighted up and animated by the very words and writings of the principal actors of the past. Thus life is given to the narrative not by the creative imagination of the historian, but by his industry and research. In both these methods of writing histories, we must finally depend upon the author's views of a character or event for the impression we receive of them, so that neither method has any signal advantage over the other.

Motley, however, decided to write his works in the newer and, perhaps, more interesting style, but while freely indulging in quotations, he judiciously selects such as will bring the picture or the person vividly before the reader. Nor does he confine himself to graphic pictures or interesting details, but evidently has that power which is wanting in so many, of seizing hold of great generalizations and reviewing from some elevated stand-point, the hurrying, turbulent tide of human passions and passing events. Space will not allow the giving a full description of Mr. Motley's writings, and it is only possible to make a few comments on them and their literary merits. To criticise an historian accurately, one should have access to original documents or manuscripts, and by comparing the author's books with these, decide whether he has judged with candor the different political and domestic events of the period. He who has only histories previously written on the same subject to refer to, can but praise the general culture and research of the historian if he finds ample evidence of the same; must content him

self with remarks on the construction of the work, the style and learning as exhibited in it by the author.

All of Motley's writings are one subject, the narrative of the rise of the Dutch republic, of that heroic and successful struggle of the United Provinces against the vast tyranny and power of Spain. The account of these troublesome times, so full of import not only to all the then existing nations of the world, but also to future generations, is characterized by an indefatigable research into all the available manuscripts and public records, that in any way tend to illustrate the great military and political movements of the age. By means of a perseverance and laborious reading almost wonderful, Mr. Motley has been enabled to throw a light upon the dark policy of the Spanish king, and give to us a new and correct explanation of his treachery and dissimulation, which at one time involved all Europe in its toils and filled the whole world with amazement and perplexity. There is one point, however, that has not been examined with that care and discrimination incumbent on a historian devoted to the cause of the people. The archives of a court have been diligently investigated, to track out the wily course of a king or minister, and present him to us with all his distinctive characteristics, but the literature of the day, the archives of the people, whatever remains of their speech and action, have not been ransacked with the same zeal, in order to ascertain the state and feeling of society, the fine lights and shadows of national character. In the first one of his histories the opening scene is that of the city of Brussels in a state of wild, enthusiastic excitement, without any preparation to warn the reader or to explain to him the reason of this particular outburst of emotion. Merely a few perplexing conundrums are asked why these Dutchmen should weep at the abdication of the Emperor, Charles V. Many other similar scenes might be cited, in which is set forth suddenly an expression of public opinion hitherto entirely unsuspected.

The construction of the work is remarkable for the vigor and vim seldom found in histories which Motley has thrown into the narrative. The majority of former his

torians deemed it incompatible with historical dignity to attempt to make any rhetorical effort or show. His powerful delineations of character, the graphic descriptions of terrible sieges and battles and massacres are all sketched with great dramatic ability and a vivid pencil. At times, however, he becomes too diffuse and makes altogether too much of insignificant details, and it must be confessed that retrenchment and concentration in certain places would have very much improved his work. There is an undeniable prolixity in that part of the history which gives an account of Leicester's campaign in the Netherlands. We get heartily wearied of this nobleman and his quarrels, and he does little else than quarrel, either with his own government or the Dutch. Motley's style is bold, vigorous and full of power, but oftentimes intemperate and exhibiting too much virtuous indignation. Abusive epithets and startling metaphors are met with too frequently. He especially delights to cast all sorts of abuse and raillery upon Philip II. Now while Philip was certainly a contemptible monarch, his place in history, the influence his personal character exercised on the current of events, the dogged pertinacity with which he pursued one idea, do not warrant that perpetual sneer which Mr. Motley always gives when speaking of him. He is invariably described as the "patient letter writer of the Escurial," continually scrawling "his apostilles" over the despatches of others. Frivolous as these "apostilles" are, something too much is made of them. The portraiture of Philip, as drawn by Mr. Motley, is better fitted for a novel than a history. While reading the work, however, we are compelled, as it were, to coincide in everything with the author. We bestow our unbounded admiration upon William the Silent, and consider it impossible for him to commit a wrong or imprudent action, while nothing is too despicable or mean for Philip to do. Motley, while not being a perfect historian, for such a being would be a perfect prodigy of learning, and has not, as yet, been met with, still has written a most interesting and at the same time practical history, one which would be received both by the imagination and reason.

C. H.

TRUTH IN FICTION.

I aspire to give no more than a faithful account of men and things as they have mirrored themselves in my mind."-George Eliot.

N an age of advanced civilization like our own, many see in fiction a something incompatible with the spirit of the age, and predict for it a certain if not speedy death. The appetite for fictitious literature, everywhere so insatiable, is in their opinion one of those childish tastes which we see still remaining even after years of maturity have been reached, but which the world must and will lay aside as it advances in its upward career. The true philosophy will rather see in it a most encouraging sign, and an omen for a better future. It is the blind dumb protest of our poor human nature against the material solution of life's mystery. It is a proof that the sentimental touches a chord even in the meanest of us, with our homely joys and lowly lives, which nothing else can reach. And so, when we behold the attempts of modern philosophers to blot out of our nature all higher aspirations, and to reduce it to a mere machine for generating a certain amount of mechanical energy, we see with hope how eagerly the most wish-washy novelette is devoured by the overworked drudge, and how even the philosopher himself cannot resist the charms of Thackeray and George Eliot.

Fiction, it must be concluded, has a mission,—an important mission,-even in an age so advanced as our own. It is to hold up before us the higher possibilities of our nature, to help us in finding more truthful answers to life's problems by counteracting the subtile influence of a materialism which threatens to sweep us far out upon an untried sea. In other words, it is the mission of fiction at the present day to emphasize those deep truths of our life which modern thought seeks to ignore. But, while fiction is not wholly unmindful of this lofty vocation, it is yet very far from putting forth any persistent effort toward attaining it. The great majority, even of those