nd invention, till they become hardly
distinguishable from pure fictions. Thus, they present a transition
to narratives of a third class, in which the fictitious element
predominates. Here, again, there are all imaginable gradations, from
such works as Defoe's quasi-historical account of the Plague year,
which probably gives a truer conception of that dreadful time than any
authentic history, through the historical novel, drama, and epic, to
the purely phantasmal creations of imaginative genius, such as the old
"Arabian Nights" or the modern "Shaving of Shagpat." It is not strictly
needful for my present purpose that I should say anything about
narratives which are professedly fictitious. Yet it may be well,
perhaps, if I disclaim any intention of derogating from their value,
when I insist upon the paramount necessity of recollecting that there is
no sort of relation between the ethical, or the aesthetic, or even
the scientific importance of such works, and their worth as historical
documents. Unquestionably, to the poetic artist, or even to the student
of psychology, "Hamlet" and "Macbeth" may be better instructors than
all the books of a wilderness of professors of aesthetics or of moral
philosophy. But, as evidence of occurrences in Denmark, or in
Scotland, at the times and places indicated, they are out of court;
the profoundest admiration for them, the deepest gratitude for their
influence, are consistent with the knowledge that, historically
speaking, they are worthless fables, in which any foundation of reality
that may exist is submerged beneath the imaginative superstructure.

At present, however, I am not concerned to dwell upon the importance
of fictitious literature and the immensity of the work which it has
effected in the education of the human race. I propose to deal with the
much more limited inquiry: Are there two other classes of consecutive
narratives (as distinct from statements of individual facts), or only
one? Is there any known historical work which is throughout exactly
true, or is there not? In the case of the great majority of histories
the answer is not doubtful: they are all only partially true. Even those
venerable works which bear the names of some of the greatest of ancient
Greek and Roman writers, and which have been accepted by generation
after generation, down to modern times, as stories of unquestionable
truth, have been compelled by scientific criticism, after a long battle,
to desce