conceive,
from the twelfth century on, of the historical art, and for the pains
they take to describe manners and customs, to draw portraits and to
preserve the memory of curious incidents. Thus shone, in the twelfth
century, Orderic Vital, author of an "Ecclesiastical History" of
England[309]; Eadmer, St. Anselm's biographer[310]; Gerald de Barry,
otherwise Geraldus Cambrensis; a fiery, bragging Welshman, who exhibited
both in his life and works the temperament of a Gascon[311]; William of
Malmesbury,[312] Henry of Huntingdon,[313] &c.

These two last have a sort of passion for their art, and a deep
veneration for the antique models. William of Malmesbury is especially
worthy of remembrance and respect. Before beginning to write, he had
collected a multitude of books and testimonies; after writing he looks
over and revises his text; he never considers, with famous Abbe Vertot,
that "son siege est fait," that it is too late to mend. He is alive to
the interest offered for the historian by the customs of the people, and
by these characteristic traits, scarcely perceptible sometimes, which
are nevertheless landmarks in the journey of mankind towards
civilisation. His judgments are appreciative and thoughtful; he does
something to keep awake the reader's attention, and notes down, with
this view, many anecdotes, some of which are excellent prose tales.
Seven hundred years before Merimee, he tells in his own way the story of
the "Venus d'Ille."[314] He does not reach the supreme heights of art,
but he walks in the right way; he does not know how to blend his hues,
as others have done since, so as to delight the eye with many-coloured
sights; but he already paints in colours. To please his reader, he
suddenly and naively says: "Now, I will tell you a story. Once upon a
time...." But if he has not been able to skilfully practice latter-day
methods, it is something to have tried, and so soon recognised the
excellence of them.

In the thirteenth century rose above all others Matthew Paris,[315] an
English monk of the Abbey of St. Albans, who in his sincerity and
conscientiousness, and in his love for the historical art, resembles
William of Malmesbury. He, too, wants to interest; a skilful
draughtsman, "pictor peroptimus,"[316] he illustrates his own
manuscripts; he depicts scenes of religious life, a Gothic shrine
carried by monks, which paralytics endeavour to touch, an architect
receiving the king's orders, an antique gem