simply minute, painstaking, limited by sectarian trammels, with little light from outside history; the other has made broad studies in comparative philology and religion. Which is likely to give us something that, even considered purely as an investigation, is of real value?

But it is not necessary to suppose cases. Every reader of history can recall real cases of "investigation extending the boundaries of knowledge," showing the vast difference between the annalist and the historian. Take one of the most recent. Professor Ihne, in his admirable history of Rome, has made a new investigation of the story of Publius Ebutius and the panic persecution of the Bacchanalian fanatics. Who that reads his account does not see that the most important element in his investigation comes from his general knowledge, and that he throws a powerful light into the depths of the story from his knowledge of the inmost spirit of the panic persecutions of the early Christians, of the Jews in the Middle Ages, and of the Roman Catholics in England under Charles II?

And now allow me to call attention to some subordinate indications as to method given by general history to special history. Greatly as I admire the main drift of Mr. Herbert Spencer's argument upon historical studies, in his treatise on Education, some of his statements seem to me to require limitation. He seems at times to confuse the study of history with the study of statistics, and thus to demand scientific proof when the nature of the material can only give moral proof. The analogy between the study of history and of travel has justly struck many minds, and throws some side-light upon Mr. Spencer's confusion. Let us observe this analogy in making a case.

Two young Americans go to England for a year. One devotes himself, in strict accordance with Mr. Spencer's theory, to "descriptive sociology," which, under the rules laid down by Mr. Spencer, results in the statistical tabulation of a vast multitude of facts; the other occupies himself in getting at the thought of the time, dominant or militant, by reading the best books, by talking with the best men in every field, by noting ends and methods in work of all sorts, by studying, comparatively, various ways of solving political and social problems, by observing so

ciety in all its branches, even by listening to the current chatter and prattle, in the various social strata. Both may come back useful men; but I think that none of us will deny that, as a man, the second-the historian-will be far better developed, and as a thinker, writer, or man of affairs, far better equipped than the first-the statistician.

Mr. Spencer has much to say regarding worthless sources and worthless facts. The truth is, a fact which appears very petty may be of vast value if it be pregnant, and a fact which appears very important is worthless if it be barren. Louis XIV receiving Condé on the great staircase of Versailles was an immense fact at the time; to us, in the light of general history, it is worth little or nothing. Louis XVI calling for bread and cheese when arrested at Varennes, and declaring it the best bread and cheese he ever ate, furnishes a fact apparently worthless, but really of significance, for it reveals that easy-going helplessness which was so important a factor in the wreck of the old French monarchy,-indeed that very spirit of which Thomas Jefferson so amusingly generalized the causes and results in his letter to Governor Langdon. The fact that Rufus Choate filled this republic with his mellifluous eloquence as a special pleader and was sent to the Senate of the United States, great as it then appeared, is now, as tested by the laws of general history, of no value. On the other hand, the fact that William Lloyd Garrison was editing a petty paper in Boston, unworthy of notice as it seemed then, is now found to be one of the great facts in American history-indeed, a most instructive fact in general history.

This test applied by general history to special throws into its true light much of the cant now current regarding the worthlessness of opinion as to battles, sieges, and treaties, and the supreme worth of facts regarding the popular life.

Mr. Spencer speaks contemptuously of historical attention to battles; yet battles may be important, and a little battle may be of vast value, and a great battle of none. The little battle of Saratoga is of great importance as a turning-point in the history of mankind; the great battle of Austerlitz is of comparatively little importance, because it shows merely the result of a clash between two tem

porary developments in European politics. Mr. Spencer makes little of the writing of memoirs; yet the little memoir of the Baroness Riedesel throws a flood of light upon the spirit in which this little battle of Saratoga was fought and in which this American Colonial empire was lost by British mercenaries and won by American yeomanry; indeed, it throws a light into the depths of philosophic history, for it shows the force of a love of freedom against the service of despotism. Mr. Spencer tells us that “familiarity with court intrigues, plots, usurpations, and the like, and with all the personalities accompanying them, aids very little in elucidating the causes of national progress." This is in the main just, yet somewhat too sweeping. Few subjects in modern history are more fruitful in valuable thought than the rise, glory, and decline of the absolute monarchy in France from Richelieu to Necker. Every historical scholar, no matter whether he agree with Buckle's theory or not, must acknowledge his masterly use of this subject in conveying some of the most important moral and political lessons to our present world. But how much less would have been Buckle's knowledge of the inner workings of that time had there not been open to him and to us the memoirs and diaries of St. Simon, Dangeau, Barbier, and the like? It is very doubtful whether the most elaborate collection of statistics would compensate for their loss.

Mr. Spencer also pours contempt, and with much justice, over details of battles. And yet, while sympathizing largely with his statement in this respect, a careful historian must confess that there are details of battles which the thoughtful student may well keep in mind. For example, when at the beginning of our recent Civil War our Northern troops yielded at Bull Run and elsewhere to the first onset of the enemy, it was of some value to remember, in estimating the significance of such a yielding, that in the first battles of the French Revolution with Europe the troops afterward so successful broke more than once in this same manner. There are those of us who can remember how precious a knowledge of this little historical fact was to us then, and one, to my personal knowledge, used it before large audiences to keep up the courage of his fellow citizens in that time of peril.

Mr. Spencer asks: "Suppose that you diligently read accounts of all the battles that history mentions, how much more judicious would your vote be at the next election?" Thinking Americans of the age which most of us have reached bear an answer to this question stamped vividly in our memories. In the fearful crisis of our Civil War, there were certain histories of which battles formed a large part, that were precious. I remember at that time when at one of our greatest universities bodies of students came to my lecture-room asking: "What shall we read?" My answer was: "Read the history of Rome just after the battle of Cannæ; read Motley's history of the Dutch Republic, and especially of the siege of Leyden; read Macaulay's account of the siege of Londonderry; read Provost Stillé's pamphlet How a Great People Carried on a Long War.'" All of us know that at many elections, perhaps at most of them, the question is not one of knowledge but of conduct; that is, not "What ought I to do?" but "Have I the courage to do what I ought?" Sometimes historical facts which cannot be shaped into sociological tables aid us to answer either or both of these questions. The fact above referred to that another leading nation, though its troops broke up in panic two or three times at first, carried a vast war to ultimate victory -was used at the beginning of our Civil War for the very purpose of enlightening citizens as to their duty in "voting at the next election "-used to show them that they should not vote for candidates who represented public discouragement and the tendency to make a compromise involving either disunion or the retention of slavery, forever, in the Constitution of the United States.

So, too, I recall another historical fact which was used with effect at that time to keep up the courage of our people as to voting men and means for the war, and voting for candidates determined to resist disunion and the perpetuation of slavery. It was a fact which would probably never occur to any one as fitting into a sociological table, and yet it was to the American people an important fact. It was simply that at the beginning of the great English Civil War, in the middle of the Seventeenth century, the first race of generals on the popular side-men like Manchester and Essex-failed because they could not thor

oughly appreciate the questions at issue, and that success came only when men of sterner purpose were put in command. This historical fact, both in its development and results, was perfectly paralleled in our own history.

So, too, as to treaties. The Treaty of Paris after the Crimean war has but a temporary interest; the Treaty of Westphalia has been active in the development of Europe, political, intellectual, and moral, down to this hour.

So, too, as to facts apparently dried up and withered. A painphlet by a forgotten sophist like Royer, and a speech by a contemptible demagogue like Gouy, at the beginning of the French Revolution, giving reasons for unlimited issues of paper money then, are facts which would appear in no table of descriptive sociology; and yet, when this Republic had recently to deal with the most momentous question since the Civil War,-the question of wild finance and currency inflation,-the arguments in Royer's pamphlet and Gouy's speech, and others like them, which were once used to plunge France into the abyss of bankruptcy and ruin by unlimited issues of paper money, were exhibited in our own country with decided effect, before committees at Washington, before meetings of business men in New York, and in campaign pamphlets. They were certainly facts of vast importance with reference to "a vote at the next election,"―a vote which was to decide whether this Republic should be, by similar arguments and policy, plunged into misery and disgrace.

So, too, as to facts regarding individual action; Aristotle in the apothecary shop, Plato in the grove, Erigena and Thomas Aquinas in the schools, Copernicus in his cell, Newton in the orchard, Cardinal D'Ailly writing his Imago Mundi, Grotius writing his De Jure Belli ac Pacis, Comenius writing his little Orbis Pictus Volta in his university, Watt in his workroom, Descartes turning from natural science to philosophy, Paolo Sarpi advising the Venetian Republic how to meet an interdict, and writing his history of the Council of Trent, Thomasius publishing his treatise against witchcraft in the name of a student, Beccaria writing his little book on Crimes and Punishments, Adam Smith writing his "Wealth of Nations," Kant writing his Critiques of the "Pure and Practical Reason," Beaumarchais writing his "Marriage de Fi