History of the World, because he could not ascertain the reasons of the brawl under his window, we might suggest to the accomplished cavalier that in the one task he was overmatched, and that in the other more personal enquiry might have succeeded. To ask of a populace engaged in any affray was never a likely way to clear up the matter,-" clubs, bills, and partisans,”-nor probably should we learn much better from two armies, as they closed in mortal strife, what was the cause of their encounter. Voltaire is said to have exclaimed, when told that his account of the battle of Fontenoy was destitute of truth, "No matter, there are not more than three or four of the present generation who know it not to be true, and in another generation there will be no one to contradict me. Vain arrogance! There is not a more dependent author than the historian. Let him affect the tone of the dictator, or the nod of the despot, and his power at that moment departs from him. Philosophy has maintained an empire in defiance of facts, but History could never venture to disregard them. General conviction owes far less to historic composition, than historical composition to general conviction. If the critic of Ferney said and did this, the expression was not more vile than the attempt was abortive. It may here be proper to ask, What degree of certainty is to be expected as the result of Historical impression? We commonly divide evidence into intuitive, presumptive, and demonstrative. Intuitive is deemed necessary, inevitable, in its effect. Be it so, it is not immediate. A reasoning must take place in the mind ere it be allowed. We remember not our infancy, or we might recall great mental effort ere we admitted that, which we now admit without any conscious thought. For as intuition always must relate to some truth, or proposition involving the difference of things, the mind can only receive it by judging upon it, though the judgment be as rapid as the volitions which move the fingers of the most perfect artist over his keys or strings. The word implies that we consent as soon as we look on the matter alleged. Still there must be intellectual exercise in this, for we cannot pronounce concerning a colour, but as the sensation of the fact induces the mental perception of it; and the idea or notion of that colour is therefore a conviction drawn from a reasoned discrimination by the mind itself. We can, then, never allow the truth of History, however probable, however analogous to what has fallen under our notice,-in this manner of quick and perfect realization, of all but involuntary mental process. Even geometric truth may be the subject of intuition, while historical never can.-Demonstrative proof is as incapable, of assistance here. You can never show that what has taken place in former times, could only have taken place, and could not have otherwise taken place. Historical truth is, therefore, not necessary truth, and consequently this rigid science of proof can have no bearing on it. A battle may have been fought on the most mathematical rules, but no mathematical rules could demonstrate that it was fought at all.-Presumptive reasoning is, therefore, the basis of our most general belief. Unlike mathematical demonstration, this is graduated through a range of feebler probability to the strongest, most undeniable, assurance, of moral certainty. It is within this category that historical evidence must be comprised. And it will serve to establish the truth of the most astonishing events, if those events be not known to be in themselves impossible, and if the contrary opinion be far more insupposeable. It can render the memory of ages as worthy of credit, as we feel our personal memory to be. This statement will be felt by some, who do not weigh it, as a virtual abandonment of that high ground on which we are disposed to place Historic authority. Cannot, it will be asked, cannot we be infallibly sure? We reply, that we can be as certain as of the intuitive truth, that black is not white,—as of the mathematical truth, that the square of the hypothenuse is equal to the other two squares described upon the sides which contain the right angle. But though we may be as certain, we become not thus certain in the same way. I am equally assured that such kings have reigned, that such empires have existed, with the conviction that a whole is greater than its part, that two circles touching each other internally cannot have the same centre,—and I find it impossible to determine which facts are the more or less certified by my mind. My grasp of them is not affected by any particular direction from which I have seized them. The nature of man reconciles itself to this credence, as the necessity of his circumstances constrains him. It is a simple, easy, state of the human mind when yielding itself to the evidence of testimony. It is an agreeable consent. It is to be as much expected as vegetable growth beneath its fostering influences. Moral evidence commends its claim to us. Without it, or by its rejection, society must be stagnant, law must be frustrated, and knowledge be contracted to a worthless point. We constantly act upon this principle, that men of worth, knowledge, and integrity, are worthy of credit,—that we may rely upon them for certainties of which we can have no sensible impact, that even the evidence, extorted by fear, and analysed with caution, of the most false, may be deserving of belief. This does our mental constitution no violence,-it is in harmony, not only with its habits, but its laws. And indeed were it not so, what would be the lot of man! Did we exist in all times, and in all places, testimony would be superfluous. But we are limited to space, we are mortal, we are creatures of very finite properties, and must we know nothing save what we can organically attest? We must then compare our little being to a captive pent in his dungeon, and our few opportunities of knowledge to his prison-bars. In short, an obstinate incredulousness, where there is this cast of evidence, is most anomalous and unreasonable. The acceptance of testimony, in all its capable connections, is the postulate of all civilization, jurisprudence, knowledge, and religion ! Man, true to himself, has always been more than content to receive the records of former times. He has been most excitedly curious. The wandering tribes have their legendary story, their proud lineage; and these remembrances they carry with them, wherever they raise their wigwam, or however remotely they push their migration. Ignorant of letters, truth has become corrupted,—the stream, confined by no fixed bank, has grown polluted by the broad soil it has overflowed,-but the tale of inconsistent marvel reveals the desire of man, savage though he be,—and is not without its use, expanding his mind by thoughts of something more than what is merely present, and refining it with conceptions which surpass and postpone the claims of instinctive want. "Between two worlds life hovers like a star, "Twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge: How little do we know that which we are! Of empires heave but like some passing waves.' Though there is a mute history in the physical structure of our planet, its fissures and dislocations,-in the organic remains of known and unknown forms of life, and of those, when known, reposing in climates to which they were unindigenous,-in far-spread ruins of cities with their crumbled palaces and temples, amidst which the owl hoots and the lazy lizard crawls, though in all these there is a voice, a potent sound of instruction, yet by History we more commonly understand the narrations of former events by known and accredited writers. To these we resort, yet not exclusively, for our knowledge of what has happened ere our bosoms drew in this vital air, and our eyes opened on this stirring world. The historian has consequently been always held in high celebrity. It was at the Olympic Games that the young Thucydides dropped a tear of enthusiasm, the enthusiasm of delight and emulation, while Herodotus, the illustrious prototype and chief of Historic literature, read to the assembled myriads, the Expedition of Xerxes against the liberty of Greece. While the youth, his future rival, wept with delight, the generous man paused, and congratulated Olorus on the strong impulse thus expressed by his child for learning. The tragedian, however greatly honoured, scarcely was allowed the same rank with the writer of history, while the painter and sculptor were always placed far lower. So important was a just chronicle Byron. felt by the ancient heroes, that a Xenophon and a Cæsar commemorate, though with a modest simplicity, their own disasters and exploits. The Spartans always, before going into battle, sacrificed to the Muses, that their achievements might be worthily recorded. May not the passing criticism be then introduced here? Great difference of opinion has existed for ages concerning the titles given to the different books of Herodotus. They are called by the names of the Nine Muses. But can we suppose, that, if this be the work of editors, it was done to cast discredit over him? The panegyric was lofty, and moreover was appropriate, seeing that even the Lacedæmonians sought historic justice at the hands of the Sacred Nine. And who will not accord to that fine eulogium of Bacon, on knowledge in general, but peculiarly applicable to this species of it?" If the invention of the ship was thought so noble, which carrieth riches and commodities from place to place, and consociateth the most remote regions in participation of their fruits, how much more are letters to be magnified, which, as ships pass through the vast seas of time, and make ages, so distant, participate of the wisdom, illuminations, and inventions, the one of the other." The credit attached to History, apart from its convenience and its adaptation to the human mind, may be resolved into the following two reasons. The Historian has few temptations to misrepresent and disfigure the events of which he writes. All that can affect him depends upon his fidelity. He cannot be indifferent to fame. Many of the ancient, as well as modern authors, confess the passion. Like Phidias in sculpturing the shield of Minerva, they so engrave and diffuse their name, that it may be coeval with their works. Theirs must be a chastity of truth. Breathe upon their veracity, and the taint remains. They must cherish a philosophic calm. Low partisanship they must despise. Placed aloft, they must look upon the earth, and not along it: as from a promontory, they must behold afar the elemental war. A second reason may be found.-A historian has fewer opportunities of fraud than temptations to it. For supposing |