in applying the principle of growth, of evolution," in all of which 'we certainly surpass the ancients.' This with characteristic fairness Mr. Rhodes admits, but it is still his conviction that we have not risen to the classical standard of historiography.
Where, then, is the advantage in favor of Thucydides and Tacitus? The answer of their advocate is that they "are superior to the historians who have written in our century, because, by long reflection and studious method, they have better digested their materials and compressed their narrative. Unity in narration has been adhered to more rigidly. They stick closer to their subject. They are not allured into the fascinating by-paths of narration, which are so tempting to men who have accumulated a mass of facts, incidents and opinions."
Lest this discussion should resolve itself into an unprofitable difference about words, it may be worth while to consider just at this point the meaning of 'better history,' as Mr. Rhodes uses the term. He can hardly mean better from the scientific standpoint; for he admits that our historical science is superior to the ancient. If, therefore, we put that into the history we write, we shall make it better in so far at least. No doubt he means better from the standpoint of historiographic art.
Here lies, I take it, the crux of the controversy. Here begins the divergence between the scientific and the literary historians. They differ as to the relative values of the elements they represent, and this difference rests upon another still more fundamental as to the relative values of ancient and modern thought. This will serve to explain the objections I have already made to the attitude of Mr. Rhodes. I would not deny the justice nor the propriety of judging any historical work from the artistic standpoint. It would not be going too far to say that no history which fails when brought to such a test can be called good. But there is no art that can neglect its fundamental science. Other things being equal, that is the best history—even from the artistic point of view—which gives the clearest explanation of the unfolding of national life; and in this respect modern historiography is beyond all comparison superior to ancient. It is, therefore, not conclusive of the preeminent excellence of Thucydides and Tacitus to show the admirable proportion and conciseness of their narratives. If the historians of the present century show some loss in this respect, they do more than make it up by gain in others. It is not enough that the ancient writers of history told so well what they saw and understood; there was so much that they did not see and understand. If historical literature is to be distinguished from other forms and have canons peculiar to itself at all, its expository completeness must be considered in estimating it as good or bad.
It must be confessed, however, that the indictment of Mr. Rhodes against modern historians for prolixity is well-deserved. It could be sustained not only against the historians, but against nearly all book-makers of our time, and is far graver than his degree of emphasis would indicate. Life is short, and there is continually more to be crowded into it. The literature of almost every field of progressive thought is outgrowing the capacity of its workers, who are striving in truly reckless fashion to add thereto each what he can. Conciseness and proportion are, if not the most priceless jewels of all literature, at least their most useful and attractive setting. Blessed is he, and a benefactor of his race, who can deliver his message in few words, and for the rest keep silent.
One other point made by Mr. Rhodes deserves attention, namely, the advantage of writing contemporaneous history. Three difficulties lie in the way of it: First, that of getting the perspective; second, that of so far removing one's prejudices as to see the truth; third, that of telling the truth as seen, in spite of popular prejudice. If they can be overcome, the history of any epoch can be written best by those belonging to it. Mr. Rhodes has himself
