Part 1

ESSAYS, OR DISCOURSES,

SELECTED FROM THE WORKS OF FEYJOO, AND TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH, BY JOHN BRETT, ESQ.

VOLUME THE THIRD.

LONDON, Printed for the TRANSLATOR:

Sold by H. PAYNE, Pall-Mall; C. DILLY, in the Poultry; and T. EVANS, in the Strand.

MDCCLXXX.

REFLEXIONS UPON HISTORY.

SECT. I.

I. There is the same common error prevalent among the vulgar, with respect to History, that there is with regard to Jurisprudence. I mean, that they suppose the attainment of those two faculties depends solely upon application and memory. It is commonly thought, that a man is made a great lawyer, by treasuring up in his remembrance great numbers of law texts and maxims; and a great historian, by reading and retaining many historical relations. I won’t dispute, if we speak only of men learned in conversation, and historians for table talk, that any thing more is necessary. But to become a historian of the pen, good Lord! nothing less than the pens of the Phœnix are equal to the undertaking. The most prudent and learned bishop of Cambray, in his letter on this subject to the French Academy, said very justly, _that an excellent historian is perhaps more rare than a great poet_.

II. In fact, the critics have not been so difficult to please on the part of poetry as on the part of history; for, with the exception of one or two exquisitely nice ones, they all agree, that Homer, Virgil, and Horace, were most excellent poets, and in whom there could be found no striking defect; and they would not have scrupled to concede the same honour to Ovid, Catullus, and Propertius, if the lascivious impurity of their expressions had not tarnished the lustre of their verses. But how difficult and severe have they shewn themselves with the historians, even when they have criticised the works of the most eminent of them! The same prelate we have just quoted, observes a want of unity and order in Herodotus, and thinks Xenophon more of a novelist than a historian; and it is a general received opinion, that in his history of Cyrus he did not so much attend to relating the true actions of that prince, as to painting his own idea of a perfect king. He admits, that Polybius reasons admirably on political and military matters; but observes, that he reasons too much. He celebrates the fine harangues of Thucydides and Titus Livius, but objects to their being too numerous, and seeming more like the works of their own invention, than the speeches of those, in whose mouths they put them. He blames Sallust, for having in two very short histories entered into too large a description of persons and customs. He censures Tacitus for an affected brevity, and for having had the audacity to pretend to discern and point out the political springs and causes of all kinds of events; which is also a defect he reprehends in Henricus Catherinus.

III. In these same great historians, other critics find out other faults. Plutarch observes, that Herodotus is inviduous and spiteful against Greece. It is a general opinion, that he mixed many fables with his history, which he carried to such a length, that there have been some, who, instead of bestowing on him the magnificent epithet of the Father of History, have called him the inventor of fable. Dionysius Halicarnassus denies the language of Xenophon to be splendid or majestic, adding, that whenever he attempts to elevate his stile, he instantly falls off, and shews himself unable to support it. Vossius remarks, that the stile of Polybius is inaccurate; and Father Rapin, that he frequently interrupts the thread of his narration with moral reflections. The same Vossius arraigns the stile of Thucydides, as harsh and full of hyperboles. Erasmus points out some contradictions in Titus Livius; and Asinius Pollio remarks some Patavinian or provincial expressions in his Latin. Many, and with great reason, blame him as a multiplier of prodigies. Aulus Gellius called Sallust _a coiner of words_[1]; and the illustrious Cæno blames him for suffering himself to be warped by his prejudices and dislikes, and for having concealed many of the glorious actions of Cicero, because he was upon ill terms with him. Charles Sigonius thinks the language of Tacitus was trite; and father Causinus says the same thing in other words; father Bayle also detects Henricus Catherinus, in giving certain relations that were contrary to truth.

IV. Who, upon the sight of all this, would, without a trembling hand, take up the pen to write a history? Who, upon seeing all these celebrated historians so arraigned, could think himself qualified to escape censure?

SECT. II.

V. But what happened to Quintus Curtius is more extraordinary than any thing we have hitherto mentioned. This author’s history of Alexander made its first appearance about three centuries ago; the manuscript having been found in the library of Saint Victor. It is not yet known with any certainty who Quintus Curtius was, nor in what time he lived. Some believe he was contemporary with Augustus, others with Claudius, others with Vespasian, and others with Trajan; according as his stile appears to them to approach nearer to, or differ more from, the antient purity of the Latin idiom; and there are not wanting those, who think that such a man as Quintus Curtius never existed, and that this was a fictitious name, under which some modern author had concealed himself, in hopes that his history would be better received by annexing to it a name resembling that of an antient writer; and some again have attributed this work to Petrarch. One of the strongest foundations on which they build this conjecture, is, that you cannot find Quintus Curtius quoted by any author, who has wrote within the fourteen hundred years immediately posterior to the reign of Augustus. Notwithstanding this, the purity of the stile has such weight with others, as to make them judge that it is full that time since any one could write so pure Latin as is contained in the language of that book; and therefore they suppose the author of this history was contemporary with some of the first Cæsars. But be this as it may, the history, which goes under the title of Quintus Curtius, continued to be universally applauded for the space of three centuries; when at length a modern critic set himself to scrutinize and examine it attentively, and found it to be full of substantial defects.

VI. This was the famous John Le Clerc, who weaves into the end of his second volume on the Art of Criticism, a long examination of Quintus Curtius, and arraigns and charges him, proving the accusation at the same time, with having been deficient in the following requisites: that he was very ignorant of astronomy and geography: that, for the sake of accumulating in his history many marvellous relations, he wrote many fables: that he described some things ill, and fell into manifest contradictions: that he inserted useless accounts, and omitted necessary ones: that, in order to display his eloquence, he incurred the impropriety of putting excellent harangues into the mouths of men, who had but little pretensions to oratory: that he gave Greek names to the most remote rivers of Asia: that he omitted the circumstance of dates or time in his relations of events: that he had chosen a stile which was better suited to a declaimer or an orator than an historian: that, finally, he had been more the panegyrist than the historian of Alexander, and had celebrated his damnable ambition, as if it had been an heroic virtue.

VII. Truly, these are many and grave defects, to be imputed to a man of the supreme credit of Curtius, and would even be thought such, if they were charged on a writer of the middle class. But all that we can infer from hence is, that either the critics have been very severe in their censure, or else, that the task of writing a history free from defects is an exceeding arduous one. But it appearing to me, that the accusation of Le Clerc is well supported, and just in every part of it, I am inclined to think, that the most elevated genius who applies himself to the occupation of an historian, can never be secure from falling into considerable defects; and to confirm this sentiment, I have quoted the example of Quintus Curtius.

SECT. III.

VIII. I believe, that it fares with the most excellent writings, as it happens to the greatest men, that they appear much less upon nearer and more frequent intercourse with them. There is no entity in nature totally perfect; but at first sight, or at certain distances, and in certain points of view, the splendor of excellencies conceal some defects, which, by approaching nearer to the objects, and upon closer examination, are discovered.

IX. It is also certain, that elevated geniuses are more exposed and liable to some particular defects than middling ones. The first, carried away either by the vivacity of their imaginations, or the force and impetuosity of their spirit, are addicted not to attend to some of those requisites and regulations which people of inferior capacities scrupulously observe; and, for that reason, these last are much more likely to compile a work that is strictly conformable to rule, than the others; for, as they never attempt to rise to any considerable height, their fall cannot be great. They always pursue an humble path, never lose sight of the precepts, and are content to move on, controlled by, and in subjection to, the rules. The others, suffering themselves to be transported by a generous flight to a greater degree of altitude, are apt not to discern things below, they being at a considerable distance from them. The departing sometimes from rules, in order to pursue a course superior to ordinary precepts, has this effect, that it makes a work appear with a better grace.

X. But this is not the predicament in which we at present find ourselves, either with respect to the defects of Quintus Curtius, or with regard to the dangers of writing history. I should esteem as a phœnix, not only him who could steer clear of every kind of fault, for this appears to me next to impossible, but the person who should avoid falling into one or other of the most remarkable ones; and he, who adverts with attention to the multitude of difficulties which present themselves in the course of writing a history, will not hesitate to be of my opinion.

SECT. IV.

XI. Let us begin with the stile, which at first sight seems the most easy part of all: how difficult and arduous is it, to hit upon that precise medium which is suitable to, and required for history? It should neither be vulgar nor poetic, although if a writer will content himself with only avoiding those two extremes, he may without much difficulty hit upon one, (especially if he is of the numerous set which nature has limited, and does not permit to go beyond a middling stile) that neither borders on the vulgar, nor is tinged with the poetic, and is equally distant from the croaking of the raven, and the chant of the swan. But by being contented with this, the narrative would be left without grace, and the history without attraction. This medium is not reprehensible, but it is insipid. Some of those who undertake to write histories are incapable of arriving so far as this degree of excellence; and they are very few, who can go beyond it. These few have many dangerous rocks and shoals in their way; and it is extremely difficult now and then to avoid striking upon one or other of them. Affectation is the most common fault that is incurred, and also the worst; for a barbarous expression is less disgusting to me than an affected one; as a clown cloathed in his ordinary habit, set off with rustic trappings, is less unpleasing in my eye, than a person finely dressed in a gay suit, bedecked with jewels, which are ill chosen, and aukwardly disposed. The first dresses himself humbly and in character; the second is adorned fantastically and ridiculously. All in the stile, which is not natural, is contemptible; and although a natural colour gives beauty to the face; whenever we perceive it is imitated with artificial ingredients, it appears disgusting to us.

XII. To the danger of running into an affected stile, there is annexed another, which is, the hazard of that appearing affectation to the reader, which is not so. Some judge so grossly in this matter, as to think, that whatever does not appear natural to them, seems unnatural to every body else. Sometimes envy excites an illiberal censurer to call a stile affected, when he does not think it so; and occasions him, like an ill-tempered woman, who has a bad skin, to exclaim that all those who have better complexions have created them by means of artificial paints and washes. But, after all, the hazards that an author is exposed to from the quarter of ignorance, and the envy of readers, are unavoidable; and, if he was to be discouraged by this, there are none but ignorant and dull writers who would venture to take pen in hand. Let him who deserves some applause content himself with having deserved it; and make himself happy with this reflection, that there will not be wanting those who will do justice to his merit. Nor should he attempt any punishment of an envious man, but leave the execution of that business to himself; for nobody could impose on him a more cruel one than that which is inflicted by his own furious rancour, that is incessantly gnawing his heart.

SECT. V.

XIII. The second danger of a lofty stile is, that the pen, instead of taking a flight to the top of Olympus, may wing its course to that of Parnassus; I mean, that, instead of arriving at the degree of sublimity which is proper for history, it may soar to that which is adapted to poetry. Every species of undertaking has its correspondent language; but I do not assent to the distribution which is commonly made of different stiles to different undertakings, and which assigns to history the medium between the sublime and the humble. There is a sublimity requisite for history, although it is different from that which is required for poetry; and also from that which is necessary in oratory. Who entertains a doubt of the stile of Livy, of Sallust, and of Tacitus, being sublime? But they are all three very different, not only from that of Virgil, of Claudian, and the other heroic poets, but even very different from each other. They are much mistaken, who confine sublimity of stile to an indivisible and fixed point. Elocution has many different graces and ornaments, and the pen may be elevated by various ways. I do not think it so difficult to hit upon the sublime which is proper for oratory and poetry, as it is upon that which is suited to history; because, in the two first, the frequency of tropes and figures give of themselves a magnificence to the stile; in the last, all the elevation must consist in the liveliness of the expressions, the natural energy of the phrases, the depth of the conceptions, and the keenness of the sentences; nor must they presume to take the liberties which are practised by the orators and poets; because hyperbole is apt to disfigure the truth, and because integrity and judgement suit but ill with the raptures of imagination; and because also elevations of the pen make it in some measure difficult for ignorant people to comprehend the relation. That tedious, hyperbolic, and pompous description, which Claudian gives of the avarice of Rufinus, does not appear so admirable to me as the short, energic, lively, and natural phrases, with which Tacitus characterizes in its full extent the misery and meaness of Galba: _Pecuniæ alienæ non cupidus, suæ parcus, publicæ avarus._ Nor does the elegant colouring, with which Ovid has painted the triumphs of vice in the iron age, appear to me equal to the profundity of that sentence, with which Livy laments the compleat and ultimate corruption of the Roman people: _Ad hæc tempora perventum est, quibus nec vitia nostra possumus pati, nec remedia._

SECT. VI.

XIV. The last danger of elevation of stile consists in the difficulty of supporting it. But it appears to me, that the censure which is commonly passed in this respect is unjust. I have known many, who have been very scrupulous in examining whether the stile was equal, and have been very liberal in the praises of those who preserved this quality, and very free of their abuse of those who have been deficient in it. They are very exact in noting, whether an author falls, or rises it; when they ought rather to attend to the thing the pen is describing. It would be very wonderful if he should fall, who is always creeping close to the ground; and, indeed, whence can he fall from, if he is never elevated? It should be considered, on the other hand, that descending and falling are two very different things. He who takes a flight is not obliged to pursue his course at the same height or on the same level to which he rose; for he may descend at his pleasure, as even the eagles do the same. And of what consequence is his descending a little, since he always continues much superior to him who never rises off the ground? The very caution of those, who are so careful about not falling, proves, that they never will attempt rising to any dangerous height, for this scrupulous vigilance is not natural to sublime spirits, as they are apt to mount on the wings of the wind, and leave to imagination the route they shall pursue. They do not strive to support themselves at the point of altitude to which they rose, as the appearance of such an endeavour would give a distasteful air to the stile; for a becoming negligence is less disgusting than a forced elevation. It ought also to be considered, that the same happy manner of expressing himself does not occur to a man at all times alike; and what is he to do in such a case? give a loose to the pen, till it happens to fall upon phrases equally energic, and delicate with the antecedent? What labour can be supposed more ridiculous than that of an author, who with an instrument in his hand is always taking the height to which he has raised his stile above the humble level, for the purpose of avoiding suffering it to descend below that fixed point of altitude? I therefore think the neglecting to do this is not a defect in a writer, but rather argues that he is mistaken who censures him for the omission. But the want of judgment or candour in him who criticises, is always dangerous to him who writes.

XV. Besides this, the difference of objects produces of itself, and makes necessary, such an inequality as we have just hinted. There are some which naturally inflame the idea, and hurry on, or give a spring to the pen. There are others, which do not agitate the imagination, and should be described in plain words expressive of sound judgment. Some require majestic language, and there are others in which it would appear ridiculous. In my opinion, he would be guilty of the greatest abuse of stile, who did not attend more to nature than the rules of art.

XVI. I am well aware, that the essential part of history does not consist in the excellence of stile; but that this is an accidental quality, which adorns and makes it more useful. Many read it when they find the stile engaging, who would not read it, if it wanted that requisite. The matter also makes a better impression on the mind, as the memory retains better what is read with delight, in the same manner that the stomach does what is eat with an appetite. An infinite number of people are acquainted with the history of the conquest of Mexico, who would have remained totally ignorant of the circumstances of it, if they had not been written by the sublime and delicate pen of Don Antonio de Solis. Finally, Lucian lays down excellent rules for writing history; and, in a little treatise he compiled on purpose, prescribes that the stile should be clear, and so far elevated as to approach nearly to the loftiness of speech made use of in poetry.

SECT. VII.

XVII. But let us have done with the stile, and relieve the historian from his care on this head; but when he is freed from this anxiety, how many shoals and dangers will still remain for him to encounter in his navigation of this sea? What strength of judgment does it require to separate the useful from the frivolous? If he relates every minute particular, he will fatigue the eyes and memories of his readers with superfluities. If he selects, he will run the hazard of rejecting with the superfluous part of the important; and prolixity, and excessive curtailing, are two extremes which he should equally avoid. If he leans to the first of these two sides, he will be censured as tiresome; if to the last, for having left the narrative confused; and but few men are capable of fixing on the just medium. Digressions are an ornament to history, and a relief to the reader; but, if they are too frequent, very long, impertinent, or injudiciously introduced, they convert the ornament into a deformity. It is a nice matter, and requires great penetration and judgment, to avoid inserting too much, or leaving out something material; and it is more difficult for an historian to hit upon a right method of proceeding, than any other author. If he is very attentive about preserving the series of dates and time, he will be apt to interrupt the thread of his relation; and, if he endeavours to keep his narration of these things connected, he will be liable to lose the æras and dates when they happened. It is a most arduous and difficult task to weave the threads of history and chronology together in such a manner, as that neither of them shall interrupt or obscure each other. Sometimes it also happens, that events croud in upon, and embarras one another, because it may fall out, that when you come to the middle of a narration, which till then had gone on smooth and uninterrupted, you find it necessary to postpone the remainder, and insert some other distinct account, the circumstances of which happened posterior to the beginning, and prior to the end, of the first relation. The worst is, that it is not possible to give rules for surmounting these difficulties; for this is a matter which must be left intirely to the perspicuity and discretion of the writer. On these depend the choice where to place things, and the manner of inserting them. If genius is wanting to effect this, the author must have recourse to the method fallen upon by many others of these times, which is composing a history after the manner of a news paper, where all the relations are promiscuously thrown together, in the same way that ingredients are mixed for making minced pyes.