NUMB. 122. SATURDAY, May 18, 1751.

N

Nefcio qua natale folum dulcedine cunctos

Ducit.

By fecret charms our native land attracts.

Ovid.

OTHING is more fubject to mistake and disappointment than anticipated judgment concerning the eafinefs or difficulty of any undertaking, whether we form our opinion from the performance of others, or from abftracted contemplation of the thing to be attempted.

Whatever is done fkilfully appears to be done with eafe; and art, when it is once matured to habit, vanishes from obfervation. We are therefore more powerfully excited to emulation, by those who have attained the highest degree of excellence, and whom we can therefore with leaft reafon hope to equal.

In adjusting the probability of fuccefs by a previous confideration of the undertaking, we are equally in danger of deceiving ourfelves. It is never eafy, nor often poffible, to comprise the series of any procefs with all its circumftances, incidents, and variations, in a fpeculative scheme. Experience foon fhews us the tortuofities of imaginary rectitude, the complications of fimplicity, and the afperities of fmoothness. Sudden difficulties often ftart up from the ambushes of art, ftop the career of activity, reprefs the gaiety of confidence, and when we imagine ourfelves

Y 4

ourfelves almoft at the end of our labours, drive us back to new plans and different meafures.

There are many things which we every day fee others unable to perform, and perhaps have even ourfelves mifcarried in attempting; and yet can hardly allow to be difficult; nor can we forbear to wonder afresh at every new failure, or to promife certainty of fuccefs to our next effay; but when we try, the fame hindrances recur, the fame inability is perceived, and the vexation of difappointment mut again be fuffered.

Of the various kinds of fpeaking or writing, which ferve neceffity, or promote pleasure, none appears fo artless or eafy as fimple narration; for what fhould make him that knows the whole order and progrefs of an affair unable to relate it? Yet we hourly find fuch as endeavour to entertain or inftruct us by recitals, clouding the facts which they intend to illuftrate, and lofing themselves and their auditors in wilds and mazes, in digreffion and confufion. When we have congratulated ourselves upon a new opportunity of enquiry, and new means of information, it often happens, that without defigning either deceit or concealment, without ignorance of the fact, or unwillingness to difclofe it, the relator fills the car with empty founds, haraffes the attention with fruitlefs impatience, and difturbs the imagination by a tumult of events, without order of time, or train of confequence.

It is natural to believe, upon the fame principle, that no writer has a more eafy task than the hiftorian. The philofopher has the works of omnifcience to examnine; and is therefore engaged in

difquifi

difquifitions, to which finite intellects are utterly unequal. The poet trufts to his invention, and is not only in danger of those inconfiftencies, to which every one is expofed by departure from truth; but may be cenfured as well for deficiencies of matter, as for irregularity of difpofition, or impropriety of ornament. But the happy historian has no other labour than of gathering what tradition pours down before him, or records treafure for his use. He has only the actions and defigns of men like himself to conceive and to relate; he is not to form, but copy characters, and therefore is not blamed for the inconfiftency of statesmen, the injuftice of tyrants, or the cowardice of commanders. The difficulty of making variety confiftent, or uniting probability with furprize, needs not to disturb him; the manners and actions of his perfonages are already fixed; his materials are provided and put into his hands, and he is at leifure to employ all his powers in arranging and displaying them.

Yet, even with these advantages, very few in any age have been able to raise themselves to reputation by writing hiftories; and among the innumerable authors, who fill every nation with accounts of their ancestors, or undertake to tranfmit to futurity the events of their own time, the greater part, when fashion and novelty have ceafed to recommend them, are of no other ufe than chronological memorials, which neceffity may fometimes require to be confulted, but which fright away curiofity, and disgust delicacy.

It is obferved, that our nation, which has produced fo many authors eminent for almost every other fpecies of literary excellence, has been hitherto remarkably barren of historical genius; and fo far has this defect raised prejudices against us, that fome have doubted whether an Englishman can stop at that mediocrity of style, or confine his mind to that even tenour of imagination which narrative requires.

They who can believe that nature has fo capriciously distributed understanding, have surely no clai.n to the honour of ferious confutation. The inhabitants of the fame country have opposite characters in different ages; the prevalence or neglect of any particular study can proceed only from the accidental influence of fome temporary caufe; and if we have failed in hiftory, we can have failed only because history has not hitherto been diligently cultivated.

But how is it evident, that we have not hiftorians among us, whom we may venture to place in comparison with any that the neighbouring nations can produce? The attempt of Raleigh is deferve ily celebrated for the labour of his refearches, and the elegance of his ftyle; but he has endeavoured to exert his judgment more than his genius, to felect facis, rather than adorn them; and has produced an hittorical differtation, but feldom rifen to the majefty of history.

The works of Clarendon deserve more regard. His diction is indeed neither exact in itself, nor fuited to the purpose of hiftory. It is the effufion of a mind crowded with ideas, and defirous of imparting them; and therefore always accumulating words, and in

volving

volving one claufe and fentence in another. But there is in his negligence a rude inartificial majefty, which, without the nicety of laboured elegance, fwells the mind by its plenitude and diffufion. His narration is not perhaps fufficiently rapid, being stopped too frequently by particularities, which, though they might strike the author who was prefent at the transactions, will not equally detain the attention of pofterity. But his ignorance or carelefness of the art of writing are amply compensated by his knowedge of nature and of policy; the wifdom of his maxims, the juftnefs of his reafonings, and the variety, diftinctness, and strength of his cha

racters.

But none of our writers can, in my opinion, justly contest the fuperiority of Knolles, who, in his history of the Turks, has difplayed all the excellencies that narration can admit. His ftyle, though fomewhat obfcured by time, and fometimes vitiated by falfe wit, is pure, nervous, elevated, and clear. A wonderful multiplicity of events is fo artfully arranged, and fo diftinctly explained, that each facilitates the knowledge of the next. Whenever a new

perfonage is introduced, the reader is prepared by his character for his actions; when a nation is first attacked, or city befieged, he is made acquainted with its hiftory, or fituation; fo that a great part of the world is brought into view. The defcriptions of this author are without minutenefs, and the digreffions without oftentation. Collateral events are fo artfully woven into the contexture of his principal ftory, that they cannot be disjoined, without leaving it lacerated and broken. There is nothing turgid