middle classes, this effect will more extensively take place. No one imagines that, because the seats in the dress-circle are seven shillings, he will close the pit, which is three and sixpence, or the gallery, which is one shilling. In this age of growing wealth and intelligence in the middle and humbler classes, there is no danger of their being forgotten, if they do not forget themselves. There is more to be got out of the pit and the galleries than the dress-circle.

We

s now altogether unfounded. It may be con- | blished, at different prices, adapted to the rates eeded that in the former age, when the rich at which purchasers may be inclined to buy; and the affluent alone were the purchasers of just as the manager of a theatre understands books, and education had not opened the trea- that it is expedient not only to have the dresssures of knowledge to a larger circle, the price circle for the nobility and gentry, but the pit of books during the copyright were, in general, for the people of business, and the galleries for high, and that the prices were too often suited the humbler classes. No doubt can be enteronly to the higher class of readers. Nay, it tained that as the craving for intellectual enmay also be admitted, that some publishers joyment, to those who feel it the more insatiahave often, by the reprint of works of a stand-ble of any, spreads more generally through the ard nature, at a cheaper rate, the moment the copyright expired, of late years materially extended the circle of their readers, and thereby conferred an important benefit on society. But nothing can be plainer than that this circumstance has taken place solely from the recent introduction of the middle classes into the reading and book-purchasing public; and because experience had not yet taught authors or publishers the immense profits to be sometimes realized by adapting, during the continuance of the copyright, the varied classes of editions of popular works, to the different classes of readers who have now risen into activity. But their attention is now fully awakened to this subject. Every one now sees that the greatest profit is to be realized during the copyright, for works of durable interest, by publishing editions adapted for all, even the very humblest classes. The proof of this is decisive. Does not Mr. Campbell publish annually a new edition of the Pleasures of Hope, in every possible form, from the two guinea edition for the duchess or countess, down to the shilling copy for the mechanic and the artisan? Have not Sir Walter Scott's Novels been brought down, during the subsistence of the copyright, to an issue of the Waverley Novels, at four shillings each novel, and latterly to an issue at twopence a week, avowedly for the working-classes? Moore's, Southey's, and Wordsworth's Poems, have all been pub-present copyright would be of any value, are lished by the authors or their assignees, in a duodecimo form, originally at five, but which can now be had at four, or three shillings and sixpence a volume. James's Naval History has already issued from the press in monthly numbers, at five shillings; and the eighth edition of Hallam's Middle Ages is before the public in two volumes, at a price so moderate, that it never can be made lower to those who do not 'wish to put out their eyes by reading closely printed double columns by candle-light. In short, authors and booksellers now perfectly understand that, as a reading and book-buying public has sprung up in all classes, it has become not only necessary, but in the highest degree profitable, to issue different editions even simultaneously from the press, if the eputation of a work has become fully esta

Thus we have argued this great question of copyright upon its true ground-the national character, the national interests, the elevation and improvement of all classes. We disdain to argue it upon the footing of the interests of authors; we despise appeals to the humanity, even to the justice of the legislature. have not even mentioned the names of Mr. Sergeant Talfourd or Lord Mahon, who have so strenuously and eloquently advocated the interest of authors in the point at issue. We have done so because we look to higher objects in connection with the question than any personal or class advantage. We tell our legislators, that those who wield the powers of thought are fully aware of the strength of the lever which they hold in their hand; they know that it governs the rulers of men; that it brought on the Revolution of France, and stopped the Revolution of England. The only class of writers to whom the extension of the

actuated by higher motives to their exertions than any worldly considerations of honour or profit; those who aspire to direct or bless mankind, are neither to be seduced by courts, nor to be won by gold. It is the national character which is really affected by the present downward tendency of our literature; it is the national interests which are really at stake; it is the final fate. of the empire which is at issue in the character of our literature. True, an extension of the copyright will not affect the interests of a thousandth part of the writers, or a hundredth part of the readers in the present or any future age; but what then-it is they who are to form the general opinion of mankind in the next; it is upon that thousandth and that hundredth that the fate of the world depends.

MICHELET'S FRANCE.*

since the Augustan age of Roman literaturethe discovery of new nations, quarters of the globe, and hemispheres, since Livy concluded, in one hundred and forty books, the majestic annals of Roman victories-the close connection of nations among each other, which have interlaced their story like the limbs of ancient wrestlers-the new sciences which have grown

Ir is a common and very just observation, the eighteen hundred years which have elapsed that modern historical works are not so interesting as those which have been bequeathed to us by antiquity. Even at this distance of time, after two thousand years have elapsed since they were written, the great histories of Greece and Rome still form the most attractive subject of study to all ages. The young find in their heart-stirring legends and romantic incidents, keen and intense delight; the mid-up and come to bear upon human events, with dle-aged discover in their reflections and maxims the best guide in the ever-changing, but yet ever the same, course of human events: the aged recur to them with still greater pleasure, as imbodying at once the visions of their youth and the experience of their maturer years. It is not going too far to assert, that in their own style they are altogether inimitable, and that, like the Greek statues, future ages, ever imitating, will never be able to rival them.

narrative of Roman heroism; nor the conquest of Jerusalem, which requires to be recorded; but the transactions of many different nations, as various and detached from each other as the adventures of the knights errant in Ariosto.

the growth of mankind and the expansion of knowledge-and the prodigious perplexity of transactions, military, political, and moral, which require to be unravelled and brought in a clear form before the mind of the reader,have rendered the task of the historian now as laborious, complicated, and confused, as in former times it was simple, clear, and undivided. Unity of effect-that precious and important object in all the Fine Arts-has been This remarkable and generally admitted rendered always difficult, sometimes impossiperfection is not to be ascribed, however, to any ble. The story is so complicated, the transsuperior genius in the ancient to the modern actions so various, the interests so diverse, that writers. History was a different art in Greece | nothing but the most consummate skill, and inand Rome from what it now is. Antiquity cessant attention on the part of the historian had no romances-their histories, based in to the leading objects of his narrative, can early times on their ballads and traditions, prevent the mind of the reader from being lost supplied their place. Narrative with them in a boundless sea of detached occurrences. was simple in event, and single in interest-It is not the "tale of Troy divine," nor the it related in general the progress of a single city or commonwealth; upon that the whole light of the artist required to be thrown: the remainder naturally was placed in shade, or slightly illuminated only where it came in contact with the favoured object. With the exception of Herodotus, who, though the oldest historian in existence, was led by the vigour of his mind, his discursive habits, and extensive travelling, to give, as it were, a picture of the whole world then known-these ancient histories are all the annals of individual towns or little republics. Xenophon, Thucydides, Sallust, Livy, Diodorus Siculus, Dionysius Halicarnassensis, are all more or less of this character. The mighty genius of Tacitus alone seems to have embraced the design of giving a picture of the vast empire of Rome; and even in his hands history was still distinguished by its old character-the Forum was still the object of reverential interest-the Palatine Mount embraced the theatre of almost all the revolutions which he has so admirably portrayed; and his immortal work is less a picture of the Roman world under the Cæsars, than a delineation of the revolutions of the palace which shook their empire, and the convulsive throes by which they were attended throughout its various provinces.

For these reasons history cannot be written now on the plan of the ancients, and if attempted, it would fail of success. The family of nations has become too large to admit of interest being centred only on one member of it. It is in vain now to draw the picture of the groups of time, by throwing the whole light on one figure, and all the rest in shade. Equally impossible is it to give a mere narrative of interesting events, and cast all the rest overboard. All the world would revolt at such an attempt, if made. The transactions of the one selected would be unintelligible, if those of the adjoining states were not given. One set of readers would say, "Where are your statistics ?" Another, "There is no military discussion-the author is evidently no soldier." A third would condemn the book as wanting diplomatic transactions; a fourth, as destitute of philosophic reflection. The statesman would throw it aside as not containing the information he desired; the scholar, as affording no clue to contemporary and original authority; the man of the world, as a narrative not to be In modern times, a far more difficult task relied on, and to which it was hazardous to awaits the historian, and wholly different quali-trust without farther investigation. Women ties are required in him who undertakes to would reject it as less interesting than novels; perform it. The superior age of the world-men, as not more authentic than a romance. *Histoire de France. Par M. Michelet. 6 vols., Paris, increasing difficulty of writing history in Notwithstanding, however, this great and

1832-3. Foreign and Colonial Review, April, 1844.

modern times, from the vast addition to the|to find a great epic than a great history; there subjects which it embraces and must embrace, were many poets in antiquity, but only one the fundamental principles of the art are still Tacitus. Homer himself is rather an annalist the same as they were in the days of Thucydi- than a poet: it is his inimitable traits of nades or Sallust. The figures in the picture are ture which constitute his principal charm: the greatly multiplied; many cross lights disturb Iliad is a history in verse. Modern Italy can the unity of its effect; infinitely more learning boast of a cluster of immortal poets and paintis required in the drapery and still life; but ers; but the country of Raphael and Tasso has the object of the painter has undergone no not produced one really great history. The change. Unity of effect, singleness of emotion, laboured annals of Guicciardini or Davila canshould still be his great aim: the multiplication not bear the name; a work, the perusal of of objects from which it is to be produced, has which was deemed worse than the fate of a increased the difficulty, but not altered the galley-slave, cannot be admitted to take its principles of the art. And that this difficulty place with the master-pieces of Italian art.* is not insuperable, but may be overcome by Three historians only in Great Britain have the light of genius directing the hand of in- by common consent taken their station in the dustry, is decisively proved by the example of highest rank of historic excellence. Sismondi Gibbon's Rome, which, embracing the events alone, in France, has been assigned a place of fifteen centuries, and successive descriptions by the side of Gibbon, Hume, and Robertson. of all the nations which, during that long period, This extraordinary rarity of the highest exceltook a prominent part in the transactions of lence demonstrates the extraordinary difficulty the world, yet conveys a clear and distinct im- of the art, and justifies Mr. Fox's assertion, pression in every part to the mind of the reader; that it ranks next to poetry in the fine arts; and presents a series of pictures so vivid, and but it becomes the more extraordinary, when drawn with such force, that the work, more the immense number of works written on hispermanently than any romance, fascinates torical subjects is taken into consideration, every successive generation. and the prodigious piles of books of history which are to be met with in every public

It is commonly said that accuracy and impartiality are the chief requisites in an histo-library. rian. That they are indispensable to his utility The greatest cause of this general failure or success, is indeed certain; for if the im- of historical works to excite general attention, pression once be lost, that the author is to be or acquire lasting fame, is the want of power relied on, the value of his production, as a of generalization and classification in the record of past events, is at an end. No bril- writers. Immersed in a boundless sea of deliancy of description, no magic of eloquence, tails, of the relative importance of which they no power of narrative, can supply the want of were unable to form any just estimate, the authe one thing needful-trustworthiness. But thors of the vast majority of these works have fully admitting that truth and justice are the faithfully chronicled the events which fell unbases of history, there never was a greater mis- der their notice, but in so dry and uninteresttake than to imagine that of themselves they ing a manner that they produced no sort of will constitute an historian. They may make impression on mankind. Except as books of a valuable annalist-a good compiler of ma- antiquity or reference, they have long since terials; but very different qualities are re-been consigned to the vault of all the Caquired in the artist who is to construct the edifice. In him we expect the power of combination, the inspiration of genius, the brilliancy of conception, the generalization of effect. The workman who cuts the stones out of the quarry, or fashions and dresses them into entablatures and columns, is a very different man from him who combines them into the temple, the palace, or the cathedral. The one is a adesman, the other an artist-the first a quarrier, the last a Michael Angelo.

pulets. They were crushed under their own weight-they were drowned in the flood of their own facts. While they were straining every nerve not to deceive their readers, the whole class of those readers quietly slipped over to the other side. They, their merits and their faults, were alike forgotten. It may safely be affirmed, that ninety-nine out of a hundred historical works are consigned to oblivion from this cause.

The quality, on the other hand, which disMr. Fox arranged the arts of composition tinguishes all the histories which have acquired hus:-1. Poetry; 2. History; 3. Oratory. That a great and lasting reputation among men, has very order indicated that the great orator had been the very reverse of this. It consists in a just conception of the nature of history, and the power of throwing into the shade the subpossessed many of the qualities requisite to ordinate and comparatively immaterial facts, excel in it, as he did in the flights of eloquence. and bringing into a prominent light those only It is, in truth, in its higher departments, one on which subsequent ages love to dwell, from of the fine arts; and it is the extraordinary the heroism of the actions recounted, the tragic difficulty of finding a person who combines the interest of the catastrophes portrayed, or the imagination and fervour requisite for emi-important consequences with which they have nence in their aerial visions, with the industry been attended on the future generations of and research which are indispensable for the men. It was thus that Herodotus painted with correct narrative of earthly events, which renders great historians so very rare, even in the most brilliant periods of human existence. Antiquity only produced six; modern times can hardly boast of eight. It is much easier

*It is reported in Italy, that a galley-slave was offered a commutation of his sentence, if he would read through Guicciardini's War of Florence with Pisa. After labouring at it for some time, he petitioned to be sent back to the oar-Si non è vero è bene trovato.

}

deep and sincere conviction, and which is ever found to be the only lasting passport to the human heart. After the first burst of popularity was over, it began to be discovered that these brilliant sketches were not real history, and could never supply its place. They left an immense deal untold, of equal or greater import

so much force the memorable events of the Persian invasion of Greece; and Thucydides, the contest of aristocracy and democracy in the Greek commonwealths; and Livy, the immortal strife of Hannibal and Scipio in Roman story. No historian ever equalled Gibbon in this power of classification, and giving breadth of effect; for none ever had so vast and com-ance than what was told. They gave an plicated a series of events to recount, and none ever portrayed them with so graphic and luminous a pen. Observe his great pictures: the condition of the Roman empire in the time of Augustus-the capture of Constantinople by the Latin crusaders-the rise of Mohammedthe habits and manners of the pastoral nations -the disasters of Julian-and the final decay and ruin of the Eternal City. They stand out from the canvas with all the freshness and animation of real life; and seizing powerfully on the imagination of the reader, they make an indelible impression, and compensate or cause to be forgotten all the insignificant details of revolutions in the palace of Constantinople, or in the decline of the Roman empire, which necessarily required to be introduced.

Struck with the fate of so prodigious a host of historical writers, who had sunk into oblivion from this cause, Voltaire, with his usual vigour and originality, struck out a new style in this department of literature. Discarding at once the whole meager details, the long descriptions of dress and ceremony, which filled the pages of the old chronicles or monkish annalists, he strove to bring history back to what he conceived, and with reason, was its true object-a striking delineation of the principal events which had occurred, with a picture of the changes of manners, ideas, and principles with which they were accompanied. This was a great improvement on the jejune narratives of former times; and proportionally great was the success with which, in the first instance at least, it was attended. While the dry details of Guicciardini, the ponderous tomes of Villaret or Mezeray, and the trustworthy quartos of De Thou, slumbered in respectable obscurity on the dusty shelves of the library, the "Siècle de Louis XIV.," the Life of Peter the Great and Charles XII., were on every table, and almost in every boudoir; and their popular author was elevated to the pinnacle of worldly fame, while his more laborious and industrious predecessors were nigh forgotten by a frivolous age. A host of imitators, as usual with every original writer, followed in this brilliant and lucrative path; of whom, Raynal in France, Schiller in Germany, and Watson in England, were the most successful.

But it was ere long discovered that this brilliant and sketchy style of history was neither satisfactory to the scholar nor permanently popular with the public. It was amusing rather than interesting, brilliant than profound. Its ingenious authors sprung too suddenly to conclusions-they laid down positions which the experience of the next age proved to be erroneous. It wanted that essential requisite in history, a knowledge of the human heart and a practical acquaintance with men. Above all, it had none of the earnestness of thought, the impassioned expression, which springs from

amusing, but deceptive, and therefore not per manently interesting, account of the periods they embraced. Men design something more in reading the narrative of great and important events in past times, than an able sketch of their leading features and brilliant characters, accompanied by perpetual sneers at priests, eulogies on kings, or sarcasms on mankind. This was more particularly the case when the political contests of the 18th century increased in vehemence, and men, warmed with the passions of real life, turned back to the indifferent coolness, the philosophic disdain, the ton dérisoire, with which the most momentous or tragic events had been treated in these gifted but superficial writers. Madame de Staël has said, that when derision has become the prevailing characteristic of the public mind, it is all over with the generous affections or elevated sentiments. She was right, but not for ever-only till men are made to feel in their own persons the sufferings they laugh at in others. It is astonishing how soon that turns derision into sympathy. The " aristocrats dérisoires" emerged from the prisons of Paris, on the fall of Robespierre, deeply affected with sympathy for human wo.

The profound emotions, the dreadful sufferings, the heart-stirring interest of that eventful era, speedily communicated themselves to the style of historical writers; it at once sent the whole tribe of philosophic and derisory historians overboard. The sketchy style, the philosophic contempt, the calm indifference, the skeptical sneers of Voltaire and his followers, were felt as insupportable by those who had known what real suffering was. There early appeared in the narratives of the French Revolution, accordingly, in the works of Toulongeon, Bertrand de Molleville, the Deux Amis de la Liberté, and Lacretelle, a force of painting, a pathos of narrative, a vehemence of language, which for centuries had been unknown in modern Europe. This style speedily became general, and communicated itself to history in all its branches. The passions on all sides were too strongly roused to permit of the calm narratives of former philosophic writers being tolerated; men had suffered too much to allow them to speak or think with indifference of the sufferings of others. In painting with force and energy, it was soon found that recourse must be had to the original authorities, and, if possible, the eye-witnesses of the events; all subsequent or imaginary narrative appeared insipid and lifeless in comparison; it was like studying the mannerist trees of Perelle or Vivares after the vigorous sketches from nature of Salvator or Claude. Thence has arisen the great school of modern French history, of which Sismondi was the founder; and which has since been enriched by the works of Guizot, Thierry, Barante, Thiers, Mignet,

Michaud, and Michelet: a cluster of writers, which, if none of them singly equal the masterpieces of English history, present, taken as a whole, a greater mass of talent in that department than any other country can boast.

The poetical mind and pictorial eye of bon had made him anticipate, in the very midst of the philosophic school of Voltaire, Hume, and Robertson, this great change which misfortune and suffering impressed generally upon the next generation. Thence his extraordinary excellence and acknowledged superiority as a delineator of events to any writer who has preceded or followed him. He united the philosophy and general views of one age to the brilliant pictures and impassioned story of another. He warmed with the narratives of the crusaders or the Saracens-he wandered with the Scythians-he wept with the Greeks -he delineated with a painter's hand, and a poet's fire, the manners of the nations, the features of the countries, the most striking events of the periods which were passed under review; but at the same time he preserved inviolate the unity and general effect of his picture,his lights and shadows maintained their just proportions, and were respectively cast on the proper objects. Philosophy threw a radiance over the mighty maze; and the mind of the reader, after concluding his prodigious series of details, dwelt with complacency on its most striking periods, skilfully brought out by the consummate skill of the artist, as the recollection of a spectator does on any of the magic scenes in Switzerland, in which, amidst an infinity of beautiful objects, the eye is fascinated by the calm tranquillity of the lake, or the rosy hues of the evening glow on the glacier. We speak of Gibbon as a delineator of events; none can feel more strongly or deplore more deeply the fatal blindness-the curse of his age-which rendered him so perverted on the subject of religion, and left so wide a chasm in his immortal work, which the profounder thought and wider experience of Guizot has done so much to fill.

upon the whole, of an inferior kind. Gifted with a philosophic spirit, a just and equal mind, an eloquent and impressive expression, he had not the profound sagacity, the penetrating intellect, which have rendered the obserGib-vation of Bacon, Hume, and Johnson as enduring as the English language. He had not enjoyed the practical acquaintance with man, which Hume acquired by mingling in diplomacy; and without a practical acquaintance with man, no writer, whatever his abilities may be, can rightly appreciate the motives, or probable result of human actions. It was this practical collision with public affairs which has rendered the histories of Thucydides, Sallust, and Tacitus so profoundly descriptive of the human heart. Living alternately in the seclusion of a Scotch manse, or at the head of a Scotch university, surrounded by books, respect, and ease, the reverend Principal took an agreeable and attractive, but often incorrect view of human affairs. In surveying the general stream of human events, and drawing just conclusions regarding the changes of centuries, he was truly admirable; and in those respects his first volume of "Charles V." may, if we except Guizot's "Civilisation Eu ropéen," be pronounced without a parallel in the whole annals of literature. The brilliant picture, too, which he has left of the discovery of America, and the manner of the savage tribes which then inhabited that continent, proves that he was not less capable of wield ing the fascination of description and romance. But in narrating political events, and diving into the mysteries of human motives, his want of practical acquaintance with man is at once apparent. He described the human heart from hearsay, not experience;-he was an historian by reading, not observation. We look in vain in his pages for a gallery of historical portraits, to be placed beside the noble one which is to be found in Clarendon. As little can we find in them any profound remarks, like those of Bacon, Hume, or Tacitus, the justice of which is perpetually brought home by experience to every successive generation of men. His reputation, accordingly, is sensibly declining; and though it will never become extinct, it is easy to foresee that it is not destined to maintain, in future times, the colossal proportions which it at first acquired.

Considered as calm and philosophic narratives, the histories of Hume and Robertson will remain as standard models for every future age. The just and profound reflections of the former, the inimitable clearness and impartiality with which he has summoned up the arguments on both sides, on the most momentous questions which have agitated England, as well as the general simplicity, uniform clearness and occasional pathos of his story, must for ever command the admiration of mankind. In vain we are told that he is often inaccurate, sometimes partial; in vain are successive attacks published on detached parts of his narrative, by party zeal or antiquarian research; his reputation is undiminished; successive editions issuing from the press attest the continued sale of his work; and it continues its majestic course through the sea of time, like a mighty three-decker, which never even condescends to notice the javelins darted at its sides from the hostile canoes which from time to time seek to impede its progress.

Robertson's merits are of a different, and

Both Hume and Robertson, however, left untouched one fertile field of historic interest which Herodotus and Gibbon had cultivated with such success. This is the geographical field, the description of countries, as well as men and manners. It is surprising wha variety and interest this gives to historical narrative; how strongly it fixes places and regions in the memory of the reader; and how much it augments the interest of the story, by filling up and clothing in the mind's eye the scenes in in which it occurred. Doubtless this must not be carried too far; unquestionably the narrative of human transactions is the main object of history; and the one thing needful, as in fic. tion, is to paint the human heart; but still there, as elsewhere in the Fine Arts, variety and contrast contribute powerfully to effect; and amidst the incessant maze of villany and suffering