_Of the Certainty of History._
All certainty which does not consist in mathematical demonstration is
nothing more than the highest probability; there is no other historical
certainty.
When Marco Polo described the greatness and population of China, being
the first, and for a time the only writer who had described them, he
could not obtain credit. The Portuguese, who for ages afterwards had
communication and commerce with that vast empire, began to render the
description probable. It is now a matter of absolute certainty; of that
certainty which arises from the unanimous deposition of a thousand
witnesses or different nations, unopposed by the testimony of a single
individual.
If merely two or three historians had described the adventure of King
Charles XII. when he persisted in remaining in the territories of his
benefactor, the sultan, in opposition to the orders of that monarch, and
absolutely fought, with the few domestics that attended his person,
against an army of janissaries and Tartars, I should have suspended my
judgment about its truth; but, having spoken to many who actually
witnessed the fact, and having never heard it called in question, I
cannot possibly do otherwise than believe it; because, after all,
although such conduct is neither wise nor common, there is nothing in it
contradictory to the laws of nature, or the character of the hero.
That which is in opposition to the ordinary course of nature ought not
to be believed, unless it is attested by persons evidently inspired by
the divine mind, and whose inspiration, indeed, it is impossible to
doubt. Hence we are justified in considering as a paradox the assertion
made under the article on "Certainty," in the great "Encyclopædia," that
we are as much bound to believe in the resuscitation of a dead man, if
all Paris were to affirm it, as to believe all Paris when it states that
we gained the battle of Fontenoy. It is clear that the evidence of all
Paris to a thing improbable can never be equal to that evidence in favor
of a probable one. These are the first principles of genuine logic. Such
a dictionary as the one in question should be consecrated only to truth.
_Uncertainty of History._
Periods of time are distinguished as fabulous and historical. But even
in the historical times themselves it is necessary to distinguish truths
from fables. I am not here speaking of fables, now universally admitted
to be such. There is no question, for example, respecting the prodigies
with which Livy has embellished, or rather defaced, his history. But
with respect to events generally admitted, how many reasons exist for
doubt!
Let it be recollected that the Roman republic was five hundred years
without historians; that Livy himself deplores the loss of various
public monuments or records, as almost all, he says, were destroyed in
the burning of Rome: "_Pleraque interiere_." Let it be considered that,
in the first three hundred years, the art of writing was very uncommon:
"_Raræ per eadem tempora literæ_." Reason will be then seen for
entertaining doubt on all those events which do not correspond with the
usual order of human affairs.
Can it be considered very likely that Romulus, the grandson of the king
of the Sabines, was compelled to carry off the Sabine women in order to
obtain for his people wives? Is the history of Lucretia highly probable;
can we easily believe, on the credit of Livy, that the king Porsenna
betook himself to flight, full of admiration for the Romans, because a
fanatic had pledged himself to assassinate him? Should we not rather be
inclined to rely upon Polybius, who was two hundred years earlier than
Livy? Polybius informs us that Porsenna subjugated the Romans. This is
far more probable than the adventure of Scævola's burning off his hand
for failing in the attempt to assassinate him. I would have defied
Poltrot to do as much.
Does the adventure of Regulus, inclosed within a hogshead or tub stuck
round with iron spikes, deserve belief? Would not Polybius, a
contemporary, have recorded it had it been true? He says not a single
word upon the subject. Is not this a striking presumption that the story
was trumped up long afterwards to gratify the popular hatred against the
Carthaginians?
Open "Moréri's Dictionary," at the article on "Regulus." He informs you
that the torments inflicted on that Roman are recorded in Livy. The
particular decade, however, in which Livy would have recorded it, if at
all, is lost; and in lieu of it, we have only the supplement of
Freinsheim; and thus it appears that Dictionary has merely cited a
German writer of the seventeenth century, under the idea of citing a
Roman of the Augustan age. Volumes might be composed out of all the
celebrated events which have been generally admitted, but which may be
more fairly doubted. But the limits allowed for this article will not
permit us to enlarge.
_Whether Temples, Festivals, Annual Ceremonies, and even Medals, are
Historic Proofs._
We might be naturally led to imagine that a monument raised by any
nation in celebration of a particular event, would attest the certainty
of that event; if, however, these monuments were not erected by
contemporaries, or if they celebrate events that carry with them but
little probability, they may often be regarded as proving nothing more
than a wish to consecrate a popular opinion.
The rostral column, erected in Rome by the contemporaries of Duilius, is
undoubtedly a proof of the naval victory obtained by Duilius; but does
the statue of the augur Nævius, who is said to have divided a large
flint with a razor, prove that Nævius in reality performed that prodigy?
Were the statues of Ceres and Triptolemus, at Athens, decisive evidences
that Ceres came down from I know not what particular planet, to instruct
the Athenians in agriculture? Or does the famous Laocoon, which exists
perfect to the present day, furnish incontestable evidence of the truth
of the story of the Trojan horse?
Ceremonies and annual festivals observed universally throughout any
nation, are, in like manner, no better proofs of the reality of the
events to which they are attributed. The festival of Orion, carried on
the back of a dolphin, was celebrated among the Romans as well as the
Greeks. That of Faunus was in celebration of his adventure with Hercules
and Omphale, when that god, being enamored of Omphale, mistook the bed
of Hercules for that of his mistress.
The famous feast of the Lupercals was instituted in honor of the
she-wolf that suckled Romulus and Remus.
What was the origin of the feast of Orion, which was observed on the
fifth of the ides of May? It was neither more nor less than the
following adventure: Hyreus once entertained at his house the gods
Jupiter, Neptune, and Mercury, and when his high and mighty guests were
about to depart, the worthy host, who had no wife, and was very desirous
of having a son, lamented his unfortunate fate, and expressed his
anxious desire to the three divinities. We dare not exactly detail what
they did to the hide of an ox which Hyreus had killed for their
entertainment; however, they afterwards covered the well-soaked hide
with a little earth; and thence, at the end of nine months, was born
Orion.
Almost all the Roman, Syrian, Grecian, and Egyptian festivals, were
founded on similar legends, as well as the temples and statues of
ancient heroes. They were monuments consecrated by credulity to error.
One of our most ancient monuments is the statue of St. Denis carrying
his head in his arms.
Even a medal, and a contemporary medal, is sometimes no proof. How many
medals has flattery struck in celebration of battles very indecisive in
themselves, but thus exalted into victories; and of enterprises, in
fact, baffled and abortive, and completed only in the inscription on the
medal? Finally, during the war in 1740, between the Spaniards and the
English, was there not a medal struck, attesting the capture of
Carthagena by Admiral Vernon, although that admiral was obliged to raise
the siege?
Medals are then unexceptionable testimonies only when the event they
celebrate is attested by contemporary authors; these evidences thus
corroborating each other, verify the event described.
_Should an Historian ascribe Fictitious Speeches to his Characters, and
sketch Portraits of them?_
If on any particular occasion the commander of an army, or a public
minister, has spoken in a powerful and impressive manner, characteristic
of his genius and his age, his discourse should unquestionably be given
with the most literal exactness. Speeches of this description are
perhaps the most valuable part of history. But for what purpose
represent a man as saying what he never did say? It would be just as
correct to attribute to him acts which he never performed. It is a
fiction imitated from Homer; but that which is fiction in a poem, in
strict language, is a lie in the historian. Many of the ancients adopted
the method in question, which merely proves that many of the ancients
were fond of parading their eloquence at the expense of truth.
_Of Historical Portraiture._
Portraits, also, frequently manifest a stronger desire for display, than
to communicate information. Contemporaries are justifiable in drawing
the portraits of statesmen with whom they have negotiated, or of
generals under whom they have fought. But how much is it to be
apprehended that the pencil will in many cases be guided by the
feelings? The portraits given by Lord Clarendon appear to be drawn with
more impartiality, gravity, and judgment, than those which we peruse
with so much delight in Cardinal de Retz.
But to attempt to paint the ancients; to elaborate in this way the
development of their minds; to regard events as characters in which we
may accurately read the most sacred feelings and intents of their
hearts--this is an undertaking of no ordinary difficulty and
discrimination, although as frequently conducted, both childish and
trifling.
_Of Cicero's Maxim Concerning History, that an Historian should never
dare to relate a Falsehood or to Conceal a Truth._
The first part of this precept is incontestable; we must stop for a
moment to examine the other. If a particular truth may be of any service
to the state, your silence is censurable. But I will suppose you to
write the history of a prince who had reposed in you a secret--ought you
to reveal that secret? Ought you to say to all posterity what you would
be criminal in disclosing to a single individual? Should the duty of an
historian prevail over the higher and more imperative duty of a man?
I will suppose again, that you have witnessed a failing or weakness
which has not had the slightest influence on public affairs--ought you
to publish such weakness? In such a case history becomes satire.
It must be allowed, indeed, that the greater part of anecdote writers
are more indiscreet than they are useful. But what opinion must we
entertain of those impudent compilers who appear to glory in scattering
about them calumny and slander, and print and sell scandals as Voisin
sold poisons?
_Of Satirical History._
If Plutarch censured Herodotus for not having sufficiently extolled the
fame of some of the Grecian cities, and for omitting many known facts
worthy of being recorded, how much more censurable are certain of our
modern writers, who, without any of the merits of Herodotus, impute both
to princes and to nations acts of the most odious character, without the
slightest proof or evidence? The history of the war in 1741 has been
written in England; and it relates, "that at the battle of Fontenoy the
French fired at the English balls and pieces of glass which had been
prepared with poison; and that the duke of Cumberland sent to the king
of France a box full of those alleged poisonous articles, which had been
found in the bodies of the wounded English." The same author adds, that
the French having lost in that battle forty thousand men, the parliament
issued an order to prevent people from talking on the subject, under
pain of corporal punishment.
The fraudulent memoirs published not long since under the name of Madame
de Maintenon, abound with similar absurdities. We are told in them, that
at the siege of Lille the allies threw placards into the city,
containing these words: "Frenchmen, be comforted--Maintenon shall never
be your queen."
Almost every page is polluted by false statements and abuse of the royal
family and other leading families in the kingdom, without the author's
making out the smallest probability to give a color to his calumnies.
This is not writing history; it is writing slanders which deserve the
pillory.
A vast number of works have been printed in Holland, under the name of
history, of which the style is as vulgar and coarse as the abuse, and
the facts as false as they are ill-narrated. This, it has been observed,
is a bad fruit of the noble tree of liberty. But if the contemptible
authors of this trash have the liberty thus to deceive their readers, it
becomes us here to take the liberty to undeceive them.
A thirst for despicable gain, and the insolence of vulgar and grovelling
manners, were the only motives which led that Protestant refugee from
Languedoc, of the name of Langlevieux, but commonly called La Beaumelle,
to attempt the most infamous trick that ever disgraced literature. He
sold to Eslinger, the bookseller of Frankfort, in 1751, for seventeen
louis d'or, the "History of the Age of Louis XIV.," which is not his;
and, either to make it believed that he was the proprietor, or to earn
his money, he loaded it with abusive and abominable notes against Louis
XIV., his son, and his grandson, the duke of Burgundy, whom he abuses in
the most unmeasured terms, and calls a traitor to his grandfather and
his country. He pours upon the duke of Orleans, the regent, calumnies at
once the most horrible and the most absurd; no person of consequence is
spared, and yet no person of consequence did he ever know. He retails
against the marshals Villars and Villeroi, against ministers, and even
against ladies, all the petty, dirty, and scandalous tales that could be
collected from the lowest taverns and wine-houses; and he speaks of the
greatest princes as if they were amenable to himself, and under his own
personal jurisdiction. He expresses himself, indeed, as if he were a
formal and authorized judge of kings: "Give me," says he, "a Stuart, and
I will make him king of England."
This most ridiculous and abominable conduct, proceeding from an author
obscure and unknown, has incurred no prosecution; it would have been
severely punished in a man whose words would have carried any weight.
But we must here observe, that these works of darkness frequently
circulate through all Europe; they are sold at the fairs of Frankfort
and Leipsic, and the whole of the North is overrun with them.
Foreigners, who are not well informed, derive from books of this
description their knowledge of modern history. German authors are not
always sufficiently on their guard against memoirs of this character,
but employ them as materials; which has been the case with the memoirs
of Pontis, Montbrun, Rochefort, and Pordac; with all the pretended
political testaments of ministers of state, which have proceeded from
the pen of forgery; with the "Royal Tenth" of Boisguillebert, impudently
published under the name of Marshal Vauban; and with innumerable
compilations of _anas_ and anecdotes.
History is sometimes even still more shamefully abused in England. As
there are always two parties in furious hostility against each other,
until some common danger for a season unites them, the writers of one
faction condemn everything that the others approve. The same individual
is represented as a Cato and a Catiline. How is truth to be extricated
from this adulation and satire? Perhaps there is only one rule to be
depended upon, which is, to believe all the good which the historian of
a party ventures to allow to the leaders of the opposite faction; and
all the ills which he ventures to impute to the chiefs of his own--a
rule, of which neither party can severely complain.
With regard to memoirs actually written by agents in the events
recorded, as those of Clarendon, Ludlow, and Burnet, in England, and de
la Rochefoucauld and de Retz in France, if they agree, they are true; if
they contradict each other, doubt them.
With respect to _anas_ and anecdotes, there may perhaps be one in a
hundred of them that contain some shadow of truth.