on the haughtiness of the allies who employed them, are written with much good sense, modesty, and temper. They present a striking reverse in the fortune of the imperious disturber of Europe, "fallen from his high estate." He who had been used to give his orders from the banks of the Po, the Danube, and the Tagus, is seen reduced to supplicate for peace, and to exchange the insolence of triumph for the hope of existence: two Dutch burgomasters, haughtily imposing their own terms on a monarch who had before filled France with admiration, and Europe with alarm! This reverse must impress the mind of the reader, as it does that of the writer, with an affecting sense of that controlling providence, which thus derides the madness of ambition, and the folly of worldly wisdom; that providence which, in maintaining its character of being the abaser of the proud, produces, by means at first sight the most opposite, the accomplishment of its own purposes; and renders the unprincipled lust of dominion the instrument of its own humiliation. The difficulties of a negotiator, who has to conclude an inglorious though indispensable treaty, are feelingly described, as well as the too natural, though hard fate of a minister, who is driven to such an unfortunate measure as that of being considered as the instrument of dishonour to his country. His pious recognition of God, as the supreme disposer of events, is worthy of great praise.-The copious and fluent BURNET, whose diffuse, but interesting History of his Own Times, informs and pleases; though the loose texture of his slovenly narration would not now be tolerated in a newspaper; who saw a great deal, and wishes to have it thought that he saw everything; whose egotism we forgive, for the sake of his frankness; and whose minuteness, for the sake of his accuracy; who, if ever he exceeds, it is always on the side of liberty and toleration; an excess safe enough when the writer is soundly loyal and unquestionably pious; and more especially safe when the reader is a prince.-LADY RUSSEL, worthy of being the daughter of the virtuous Southampton; too fatally connected with the unhappy politics of the times; whose life was a practical illustration of her faith in the Divine support, and of submission to the Divine will; and whose letters, by their sound and sober piety, strong sense, and useful information, eclipse all those of her learned and distinguished correspondents.

CHAPTER X.

Reflections on History-Ancient Historians.

IF, however, the historian be a compatriot, and especially if he be a contemporary, even though he was no actor in the drama, it is difficult for him not to range himself too uniformly on one side or the other. The human mind has a strong natural bias to adopt exclusive attachments. Perhaps man may be defined to be an animal that delights in party. Yet we are inclined to believe that an historian, though he may be partial and interested, yet, if he be keen-sighted and intelligent as to the facts of which he speaks, is, on the whole, a better witness than a more fair and candid, but worse-informed man; because we may more easily calculate the degree of allowance to be made for partiality and prejudice, than we can estimate that which is to be made for defect of information. Of two

evils, therefore, we should prefer a prejudiced but well-informed, to a more impartial but less enlightened narrator.

When materials are fresh, they are more likely to be authentic; but, unfortunately, when it is more easy to obtain, it is often less safe to employ them. When the events are more remote, their authenticity is more difficult to ascertain; and when they are near, the passions which they excite are more apt to warp the truth. Thus, what might be gained in accuracy by nearness of position, is liable to be lost in the partiality which that very position induces. The true point of vision is attained, when the eye and the object are placed at their due distance. The reader who comes to the perusal of the work, in a more unimpassioned frame than, perhaps, the author wrote, will best collect the characters from the narrative, if fairly given.

Care should be taken not to extol shining characters in the gross, but to point out their weaknesses and errors; nor should the brilliant qualities of illustrious men be suffered to cast a veil over their vices, or so to fascinate the young reader as to excite admiration of their very faults. Even in perusing sacred history, we should never extenuate, much less justify, the errors of great characters, but make them, at once, a ground for establishing the doctrine of general corruption, and for quickening our own vigilance. The weaknesses of the wisest, and the errors of the best, while they should be regarded with candour, must not be held up to imitation. It has been reasonably conjectured, that many acts of cruelty in Alexander, whose disposition was naturally merciful, were not a little owing to one of his preceptors having been early accustomed to call himself Phoenix, and his pupil Achilles; and thus to have habitually trained him to an imitation even of the vices of this ferocious hero.

A prince must not study history merely to store his memory with amusing narratives or insulated events, but with a view to trace the dependence of one event upon another. An ordinary reader will be ratisfied with knowing the exploits of Scipio or Hannibal, and will be sufficiently entertained with the description of the riches or beauty of such renowned cities as Carthage or Rome; but a prince (who is also a politician) studies history in order to observe how ambition, operating on the breasts of two rival states, led to one war after another between these two states. By what steps the ruin of the one, and the triumph of the other, were hastened or delayed; by what indications the final catastrophe might have been antecedently known, or by what measures it might have been averted. He is interested not merely when a signal event arises, but by the whole skill of the game; and he is, on this account, anxious to possess many inferior circumstances, serving to unite one event with another, which, to the ordinary reader, appear insignificant and dull. Again, in the case of Pompey and Cæsar, the reflecting politician connects the triumphs of the latter with the political and moral state of Rome. He bears in mind the luxurious habits of the patricians who became the officers in Pompey's army; the gradual decay of public spirit, the licentiousness and venality of the capital, and the arts by which Cæsar had prepared his troops, while they were in Gaul, for the contention which he already meditated for the empire of the world. He will, in idea, see that world already vanquished, when he considers the

profound policy of this conqueror, who, on being appointed to the government of Gaul on both sides of the Alps, by exciting the Gauls to solicit the same privileges with the Italians, opened to himself this double advantage :-the disturbance which this would occasion in Rome, would lift him into absolute power; while, by his kindness and protection to these people, he gained an accession of strength to overthrow his competitors. The ordinary reader is satisfied with the battle of Pharsalia for the entertainment it affords, and admires the splendour of the triumphs, without considering these things as links that connect the events which are past with those which are to come.

The preceptor of the royal pupil will, probably, think it advisable to select for her perusal some of the lives of Plutarch. This author teaches two things excellently-antiquity, and human nature. He would deserve admiration, were it only for that magazine of wisdom, condensed in the excellent sayings of so many great men, which he has recorded. Perhaps all the historians together have not transmitted to us so many of the sage axioms and bons mots of ancient Greece and Rome. Yet, in his parallels -if that can be called a parallel which brings together two men who have commonly little or no resemblance- even the upright Plutarch exhibits something too much of the partiality lately noticed; the scale, whenever he weighs one of his own countrymen against a Roman, almost invariably inclining to the Greek side.

It may also be deemed useful to read to her a few select portions of Suetonius. Though he is an author utterly unfit to be put into youthful, and especially into female hands, yet a judicious instructor may select passages particularly appropriated to a royal pupil. In truth, the writings of the ancient authors of all classes, historians, satirists, poets, and even moralists, are liable to the same objection, whether it be Suetonius, or Plutarch, or Juvenal, or even the comparatively decorous Virgil, that we take in hand: the perusal cannot fail to suggest to every considerate, and especially to every female reader, the obligations which we owe to Christianity, independently of its higher ends, for having so raised the standard of morals and of manners, as to have rendered almost too monstrous for belief, and too shocking for relation, in our days, the familiar and uncensured incidents of ancient times. Suetonius paints with uncommon force, though too often with offensive grossness, the crimes of the emperors, with their subsequent miseries and punishments. Tyrants will always detest history, and, of all historians, they will detest Suetonius.

An authentic historian of a deceased tyrant must not, however, be confounded with the malevolent declaimer against royalty. But, though the most arbitrary prince cannot prevent his own posthumous disgrace, yet an honest and conscientious historian will remember, that, while he is detailing the vices of a king, which it is his duty to enumerate, it is his duty also carefully to avoid bringing the office of the king into contempt. And, while he is exposing the individual crime, he should never lose sight of his respect for the authority and station of him whose actions truth compels him to record in their real characters. The contrary insidious practice has of late so much prevailed, that the young reader should be put on his guard not to suffer his principles to be undermined by the affectation of indignant virtue, mock patriotism, zeal for spurious liberty,

and factitious morality. It is but justice to Mr. Hume, against whose principles we have thought it a duty to bear our most decided testimony," to allow that, in the earlier periods of English history, he carefully abstains from the vulgar error of always ascribing the public calamity, which he is relating, to the ambition or injustice of kings; but often attributes it, where it is often more justly due, to the insolence and oppression of the barons, or the turbulence and insubordination of the people. If he errs, it is, perhaps, on the contrary side.

But let those licentious anarchists, who delight to retail insipid jests, or to publish unqualified libels on kings as kings, cast their eyes on an uninterrupted succession of five illustrious Roman emperors, who, though not exempt from faults, some of them from vices chiefly attributable to paganism, yet exhibit such an unbroken continuity of great talents, and great qualities, as it would, perhaps, be difficult to find in any private family for five successive generations.

The candour of our excellent queen Maryt, towards the biographers of princes, was exemplary. When, with an intention probably to soothe the royal ear, some persons, in her presence, severely condemned certain historians who had made reflections dishonourable to the memory of princes, she observed, that if the princes had given just ground for censure, the authors had done well to represent them fairly; and that other sovereigns must expect to be dealt with in the same manner, if they gave the same She had even the magnanimity to wish, that all such princes would read Procopius, (an author too much addicted to blacken the memory of kings,) "because," she observed, "however he might have exaggerated the vices he described, it would be a salutary lesson to future princes, that they themselves must expect the same treatment, when all restraint was taken off, and the dread of their power terminated with their lives."

cause.

The late king of Prussia, who united the character of an author to that of a warrior, was of another way of thinking. He was of opinion, that the names of good princes alone should be recorded in history; and that those of the wicked should be suffered to perish with their crimes §. Were this practice to be universally adopted, might we not presume to question whether even the illustrious name of Frederick the Great would be as certain, as it is at present, of being carried down to posterity?

Tacitus is the historian of philosophers, and the oracle of politicians. Highly valuable for his deep and acute reflections, in which neither the governors nor governed are spared; he is an original and profound thinker, and is admirable for the plenitude of his images, and the paucity of his words. His style is ardent, and his figures are bold. Vigour, brevity, and point, are its characteristics. He throws out a stronger likeness of a flagitious Roman in three words, than a diffuse writer would give in as

* In chap. xi.

+ In chap. viii.

Procopius, a Greek historian, lived in great distinction at the court of Justinian, by whom he was made governor of Constantinople. His works, in 2 vols. folio, Greek and Latin, were printed at Paris in 1663.

§"Examen du Prince de Machiavel," by the King of Prussia. It is curious to compare this composition of the king with his own conduct. To contrast his strong reprobation of the baneful glory of heroes, his horror of conquest, and of the cruel passions which oppress mankind; his professed admiration of clemency, meekness, justice, and compassion, with which this work abounds, with the actual exploits of the ravager of the fertile plains of Saxony, &c. &c. ! !

many pages. In his annals he is a faithful, occasionally, indeed, a too faithful narrator; but he is also, at the same time, an honest and indignant reprover of the atrocious deeds which he records. In a man passionately loving liberty, virtue, and his country, we pardon, while painting the ruin of each, those dark and sullen shades with which he sometimes overcharges the picture. Had he delineated happier times, his tints would probably have been of a lighter cast. If he ever deceives, he does not, at least, ever appear to intend it; for he gives rumours as rumours, and his facts he generally grounds on the concurrent testimony of the times of which he writes. If, however, Tacitus fulfils one of the two duties which he himself prescribes to historians, that of writing without fear, he does not uniformly accomplish the other, that of writing without hatred; at least, neither his veracity nor his candour extended to his remarks on the Jews or Christians. But, with all his diffuseness, Livy is the writer who assists in forming the taste. With all his warmth, there is a beautiful sobriety in his narrations; he does not magnify the action, he relates it, and pours forth, from a full urn, a copious and continued stream of varied elegance. He directs the judgment, by passing over slight things in a slight manner, and dwelling only on the prominent parts of his subject, though he has been accused of some important omissions. He keeps the attention always alive, by exhibiting passions as well as actions; and what best indicates the hand of a master, we hang suspended on the event of his narrative, as if it were a fiction, of which the catastrophe is in the power of the writer, rather than a real history, with whose termination we are already acquainted. He is admirable no less for his humanity than his patriotism; and he is one of the few historians, who have marked the broad line of discrimination between true and false glory, not erecting pomps, triumphs, and victories, into essentials of real greatness. He teaches patience under censure, inculcates a contempt of vulgar acclamation, and of all praise which is not fairly earned. One valuable superiority, which Livy possesses over his competitors, is, that, in describing vice and vicious characters, he scrupulously contrives to excite an abhorrence of both; and his relations never leave, on the mind of the reader, a propensity to the crime, or a partiality for the criminal whom he has been describing. A defect in this acuteness of moral feeling, has been highly pernicious to the youthful reader; and this too common admixture of impure description, even when the honest design has been to expose vice, has sensibly tainted the wholesomeness of historic composition.

Independently of those beautiful, though sometimes redundant speeches, which Livy puts into the mouths of his heroes, his eloquent and finished answers to ambassadors furnish a species of rhetoric peculiarly applicable to a royal education.

It has been regretted by some of the critics, that Livy, after enriching his own work by the most copious plagiarisms from his great precursor, Polybius, commends him in a way so frigid, as almost to amount to censure. He does not, it is true, go the length of Voltaire in his treatment of Shakspeare, who first pillages, and then abuses him. The Frenchman, indeed, who spoils what he steals, acts upon the old known principle of his country highwaymen, who always murder where they rob.

If it be thought that we have too warmly recommended heathen