, and the style of Dr. Newman, approaching the period through which
we have lived, should we desire this talented mortal to encumber himself
with a theory into which to thrust all our doings as we toss clothes into
a portmanteau; to set himself to extract the essence of some new
political philosophy, capable of being applied to the practical politics
of his own day, or to busy himself with problems or economics? To us
personally, of course, it is a matter of indifference how the historians
of the twentieth century conduct themselves; but ought not our altruism
to bear the strain of a hope that at least one of the band may avoid all
these things, and, leaving political philosophy to the political
philosopher and political economy to the political economist, remember
that the first, if not the last, duty of the historian is to narrate, to
supply the text not the comment, the subject not the sermon, and proceed
to tell our grandchildren and remoter issue the story of our lives? The
clash of arms will resound through his pages as musically as ever it does
through those of the elder historians as he tells of the encounter
between the Northern and Southern States of America, in which Right and
Might, those great twin-brethren, fought side by side; but Romance, that
ancient parasite, clung affectionately with her tendril-hands to the
mouldering walls of an ancient wrong, thus enabling the historian, whilst
awarding the victor's palm to General Grant, to write kindly of the lost
cause, dear to the heart of a nobler and more chivalrous man, General
Lee, of the Virginian army. And again, is it not almost possible to envy
the historian to whom will belong the task of writing with full
information, and all the advantage of the true historic distance, the
history of that series of struggles and heroisms, of plots and counter-
plots, of crimes and counter-crimes, resulting in the freedom of Italy,
and of telling to a world, eager to listen, the life-story of Joseph
Mazzini?

'Of God nor man was ever this thing said,
That he could give
Life back to her who gave him, whence his dead
Mother might live.
But this man found his mother dead and slain,
With fast sealed eyes,
And bade the dead rise up and live again,
And she did rise.'

Nor will our imaginary historian be unmindful of Cavour, or fail to
thrill his readers by telling them how, when the great Italian statesman,
with many sins upon his