But, in truth, there never was any such debt or engagement on the part of Sir James: And the public was, and continues, the only debtor on the transaction, for whatever it may have received of service or instruction at his hand. We have expressed elsewhere our estimate of the greatness of this debt; and of the value especially of the Histories he has left behind him. We have, to be sure, since seen some sneering remarks on the dulness and uselessness of these works; and an attempt made to hold them up to ridicule, under the appellation of Philosophical histories. We are not aware that such a name was ever applied to them by their author or their admirers. But if they really deserve it, we are at a loss to conceive how it should be taken for a name of reproach; and it will scarcely be pretended that their execution is such as to justify its application in the way of derision. We do not perceive, indeed, that this is pretended; and, strange as it may appear, the objection seems really to be, rather to the kind of writing in general, than to the defects of its execution in this particular instance—the objector having a singular notion that history should consist of narrative only; and that nothing can be so tiresome and useless as any addition of explanation or remark.

that score, may be fairly held as compensated | in the history of the world for the last two by the voluntary advances of value to a much hundred years? above all, what useful lessons greater extent, though referring to an earlier could be learned, for people or for rulers, from period. a mere series of events presented in detail, without any other information as to their causes or consequences, than might be inferred from the sequence in which they appeared? To us it appears that a mere record of the different places of the stars, and their successive changes of position, would be as good a system of Astronomy, as such a set of annals would be of History; and that it would be about as reasonable to sneer at Newton and La Place for seeking to supersede the honest old star-gazers, by their philosophical histories of the heavens, as to speak in the same tone, of what Voltaire and Montesquieu and Mackintosh have attempted to do for our lower world. We have named these three, as having attended more peculiarly, and more impartially, than any others, at least in modern times, to this highest part of their duty. But, in truth, all eminent historians have attended to it-from the time of Thucydides downwards;--the ancients putting the necessary explanations more frequently into the shape of imaginary orations and the moderns into that of remark and dissertation. The very first, perhaps, of Hume's many excellences consists in these philosophical summaries of the reasons and considerations by which he supposes parties. to have been actuated in great political movements; which are more completely abstracted from the mere story, and very frequently less careful and complete, than the parallel explanations of Sir James Mackintosh. For, with all his unrivalled sagacity, it is true, as Sir James has himself somewhere remarked, that Hume was too little of an antiquary to be always able to estimate the effect of motives in distant ages; and by referring too confidently to the principles of human nature as developed in our own times, has often represented our ancestors as more reasonable, and much more argumentative, than they really were.

We have no longer room to expose, as it deserves, the strange misconceptions of the objects and uses of history, which we humbly conceive to be implied in such an opinion; and shall therefore content ourselves with asking, whether any man really imagines that the modern history of any considerable State, with its complicated system of foreign relations, and the play of its domestic parties, could be written in the manner of Herodotus? --or be made intelligible (much less instructive) by the naked recital of transactions and accurrences? These, in fact, are but the crude inaterials from which history should be constructed; the mere alphabet out of which its lessons are afterwards to be spelled. If every reader had indeed the talents of an accomplished Historian,—that knowledge of human nature, that large acquaintance with all collateral facts, and that force of understanding which are implied in such a name-and, at the same time, that leisure and love for the subject which would be necessary for this particular application of such gifts, the mere detail of facts, if full and impartial, might be sufficient for his purposes. But to every other class of readers, we will venture to say, that one half of such a history would be an insoluble enigma; and the other half the source of the most gross misconceptions.

Without some explanation of the views and motives of the prime agents in great transactions of the origin and state of opposite interests and opinions in large bodies of the people and of their tendencies respectively to ascendency or decline-what intelligible account could be given of any thing worth knowing

That there may be, and have often been, abuses of this best part of history, is a reason only for valuing more highly what is exempt from such abuses; and those who feel most veneration and gratitude for the lights afforded by a truly philosophical historian, will be sure to look with most aversion on a counterfeit. No one, we suppose, will stand up for the introduction of ignorant conjecture, shallow dogmatism, mawkish morality, or factious injustice into the pages of history-or deny that the shortest and simplest annals are greatly preferable to such a perversion. As to political partiality, however, it is a great mistake to suppose that it could be in any degree excluded by confining history to a mere chronicle of facts-the truth being, that it is chiefly in the statement of facts that this partiality displays itself; and that it is more frequently exposed to detection than assisted, by the ar guments and explanations, which are supposed to be its best resources. We shall not resume what we have said in another place as to the merit of the Histories which are now in ques

tion; but we fear not to put this on record, as | periods, they would be listened to with impa our deliberate, and we think impartial, judg-tience. It is at such times, too, that the inment-that they are the most candid, the telligent part of the lower and middling most judicious, and the most pregnant with thought, and moral and political wisdom, of any in which our domestic story has ever yet been recorded.

ich the actual and future apostles of the h derive the means of propagating and deding it. But, in order to be so effective, arms and the treasures must be taken forth n their well-ordered repositories, and disinated and applied where they are needed I required. It is by the tongue, at last, and by the pen, that multitudes, or the indiuals composing multitudes, are ever really suaded or converted, by conversation and by harangues-or by such short and ocional writings as come in aid of conversa1, and require little more study or continued ention than men capable of conversation generally willing to bestow. If a man, refore, who is capable of writing such a k, is also eminently qualified to dissemie and render popular its most important trines, by conversation and by such lighter lications, is he to be blamed if, when the es are urgent, he intermits the severer dy, and applies himself, with caution and dour, to give an earlier popularity to that ich can never be useful till it is truly ular? To us it appears, that he fulfils the her duty; and that to act otherwise would to act like a general who should starve his ops on the eve of battle, in order to replenhis magazines for a future campaign-or a farmer who should cut off the rills from parching crops, that he may have a fuller ervoir against the possible drought of aner year.

his place as the author of some finished work of great interest and importance. If he got over the first illusion, however, and took the view we have done of the real utility of his exertions, we cannot believe that this would have weighed very heavily on a mind like Sir James Mackintosh's; and while we cannot but regret that his declining years should have been occasionally darkened by these shadows of a self-reproach for which we think there was no real foundation, we trust that he is not to be added to the many instances of men who have embittered their existence by a mistaken sense of the obligation of some rash vow made in early life, for the performance of some laborious and perhaps impracticable task.

Cases of this kind we believe to be more common than is generally imagined. An ambitious young man is dazzled with the notion of filling up some blank in the literature of his country, by the execution of a great and important work-reads with a view to it, and allows himself to be referred to as engaged in its preparation. By degrees he finds it more irksome than he had expected; and is tempted by other studies, altogether as suitable and less charged with responsibility, into long fits of intermission. Then the very expectation that has been excited by this protracted incubation makes him more ashamed of having done so little, and more dissatisfied with the little he has done! And so his life is passed, in a melancholy alternation of distasteful, and of course unsuccessful attempts; and long fits of bitter, but really groundless, self-reproach, for not having made those attempts with more energy and perseverance: and at last he dies,

But we must cut this short. If we are at right in the views we have now taken, Sir nes Mackintosh must have been wrong in regret and self-reproach with which he tainly seems to have looked back on the accomplished projects of his earlier years: not only without doing what he could not And we humbly think that he was wrong. attempt without pain and mortification, but had failed, no doubt, to perform all that prevented by this imaginary engagement from had once intended, and had been drawn doing many other things which he could have de from the task he had set himself, by done with success and alacrity-some one of her pursuits. But he had performed things which it is probable, and all of which it is important, which were not originally in- nearly certain, would have done him more aded; and been drawn aside by pursuits credit, and been of more service to the world, t less worthy than those to which he had than any constrained and distressful complesked himself. In blaming himself-not for tion he could in any case have given to the is idleness, but for this change of occupa- other. For our own parts we have already n-we think he was misled, in part at said that we do not think that any man, whatast, by one very common error-we mean ever his gifts and attainments may be, is really at of thinking, that, because the use he ac-bound in duty to leave an excellent Book to ally made of his intellect was more agree-posterity; or is liable to any reproach for not le than that which he had intended to make, having chosen to be an author. But, at all was therefore less meritorious. We need events, we are quite confident that he can be ot say, that there cannot be a worse criterion under no obligation to make himself unhappy 7 merit: But tender consciences are apt to in trying to make such a book: And that as ll into such illusions. Another cause of soon as he finds the endeavour painful and gret may have been a little, though we really depressing, he will do well, both for himself ink but a little, more substantial. By the and for others, to give up the undertaking, purse he followed, he probably felt, that his and let his talents and sense of duty take a ame would be less illustrious, and his repu- course more likely to promote, both his own ition less enduring, than if he had fairly taken enjoyment and their ultimate reputation.

THE following brief notices, of three lamented and honoured Friends, certainly weny contributed to the Edinburgh Review: But, as I am not likely ever to appear again a author, I have been tempted to include them in this publication-chiefly, I fear, fon desire, to associate my humble name with those of persons so amiable and distinguish But partly also, from an opinion, which has been frequently confirmed to me by those competent to judge-that, imperfect as these sketches are, they give a truer and moreşa view of the manners, dispositions, and personal characters of the eminent individ cerned-than is yet to be found-or now likely to be furnished, from any other que

THE HONOURABLE HENRY ERSKINE*

DIED, at his seat of Ammondell, Linlith- no successor. That part of eloquente a m gowshire, on the 8th instant, in the seventy-mute-that honour in abeyance. first year of his age, the Honourable Henry Erskine, second son of the late Henry David,

Earl of Buchan.

Mr. Erskine was called to the Scottish Bar, of which he was long the brightest ornament, in the year 1768, and was for several years Dean of the Faculty of Advocates: He was twice appointed Lord Advocate,-in 1782 and in 1806, under the Rockingham and the Grenville administrations. During the years 1806 and 1807 he sat in Parliament for the Dunbar and Dumfries district of boroughs.

As a politician, he was eminently de guished for the two great virtues of steadiness to his principles, and gentleness and urbanity in his mane serting them. Such indeed was the bin. sweetness of his temper, and the fas of his manners, that, though placed b rank and talents in the obnoxious statier Leader of opposition, at a period when cal animosities were carried to a lame height, no individual, it is believed, w known to speak or to think of him with thing approaching to personal hostiliy return, it may be said, with equal that, though baffled in some of his and not quite handsomely disappe some of the honours to which his cam universally admitted, he never allowed slightest shade of discontent to rest pr mind, nor the least drop of bittemes gle with his blood. He was so utterly pable of rancour, that even the rancor that he ought not to be made its vietin He possessed, in an eminent degree deep sense of revealed religion, and that

Cortecture

In his long and splendid career at the bar, Mr. Erskine was distinguished not only by the peculiar brilliancy of his wit, and the gracefulness, ease, and vivacity of his eloquence, but by the still rarer power of keeping those seducing qualities in perfect subordination to his judgment. By their assistance he could not only make the most repulsive subject agreeable, but the most abstruse easy and intelligible. In his profession, indeed, all his wit was argument; and each of his delightful illustrations a material step in his reasoning. To himself, indeed, it seemed always as if they were recommended rather for their use ous attachment to the Presbyterian estat than their beauty; and unquestionably they ment, which had long been hereditary often enabled him to state a fine argument, or family. His habits were always strict a nice distinction, not only in a more striking and temperate, and in the latter part

precision than could have been attained by ornament of every society into which he

the severer forms of reasoning.

tered, he was always most happy a In this extraordinary talent, as well as in the delightful at home; where the buoyant charming facility of his eloquence, and the his spirit and the kindness of his heart f which encircled his manner of debate, he had ment; and though without taste for expers constant radiance of good humour and gaiety all that they required of exercise or e

indulgent and munificent to his children, From the " Endinburgh Courant" Newspaper a liberal benefactor to all who depended ab

of the 16th of October, 1817.

bounty.

He finally retired from the exercise of that | tion; but retained unimpaired, till within a profession, the highest honours of which he day or two of his death, not only all his intelhad at least deserved, about the year 1812, lectual activity and social affections, but, when and spent the remainder of his days in do- not under the immediate affliction of a painful mestic retirement, at that beautiful villa which and incurable disease, all that gaiety of spirit, had been formed by his own taste, and in the and all that playful and kindly sympathy with improvement and adornment of which he innocent enjoyment, which made him the idol found his latest occupation. Passing thus at of the young, and the object of cordial attachonce from all the bustle and excitement of a ment and unenvying admiration to his friends public life to a scene of comparative inactivity, of all ages. he never felt one moment of ennui or dejec

NOTICE AND CHARACTER

OF

PROFESSOR PLAYFAIR.*

methods of inquiry, and to imbue their minds, from the very commencement of the study, with that fine relish for the truths it disclosed, and that high sense of the majesty with which they were invested, that predominated in his own bosom. While he left nothing unexplained or unreduced to its proper place in the system, he took care that they should never be perplexed by petty difficulties, or bewildered in useless details; and formed them betimes to those clear, masculine, and direct methods of investigation, by which, with the least labour, the greatest advances might be accomplished.

Or Mr. Playfair's scientific attainments, of his proficiency in those studies to which he was peculiarly devoted, we are but slenderly qualified to judge: But, we believe we hazard nothing in saying that he was one of the most learned Mathematicians of his age, and among the first, if not the very first, who introduced the beautiful discoveries of the later continental geometers to the knowledge of his countrymen; and gave their just value and true place, in the scheme of European knowledge, to those important improvements by which the whole aspect of the abstract sciences has been renovated since the days of our illustrious Newton. If he did not signalise Mr. Playfair, however, was not merely a himself by any brilliant or original invention, teacher; and has fortunately left behind him he must, at least, be allowed to have been á a variety of works, from which other generamost generous and intelligent judge of the tions may be enabled to judge of some of those achievements of others; as well as the most qualifications which so powerfully recomeloquent expounder of that great and magnifi- mended and endeared him to his contempocent system of knowledge which has been raries. It is, perhaps, to be regretted that so gradually evolved by the successive labours much of his time, and so large a proportion of of so many gifted individuals. He possessed, his publications, should have been devoted to indeed, in the highest degree, all the charac- the subjects of the Indian Astronomy, and the teristics both of a fine and a powerful under- Huttonian Theory of the Earth: And though standing, at once penetrating and vigilant, it is impossible to think too highly of the inbut more distinguished, perhaps, for the cau- genuity, the vigour, and the eloquence of those tion and sureness of its march, than for the publications, we are of opinion that a juster brilliancy or rapidity of its movements, and estimate of his talent, and a truer picture of guided and adorned through all its progress, his genius and understanding, is to be found by the most genuine enthusiasm for all that in his other writings;-in the papers, both biois grand, and the justest taste for all that is graphical and scientific, with which he has beautiful in the Truth or the Intellectual Ener-enriched the Transactions of our Royal Sociegy with which he was habitually conversant. To what account these rare qualities might have been turned, and what more brilliant or lasting fruits they might have produced, if his whole life had been dedicated to the solitary cultivation of science, it is not for us to conjecture; but it cannot be doubted that they added incalculably to his eminence and utility as a Teacher; both by enabling him to direct his pupils to the most simple and luminous

*Originally printed in an Edinburgh newspaper of August, 1819. A few introductory sentences are now omitted.

ty; his account of Laplace, and other articles which he contributed to the Edinburgh Review.-the Outlines of his Lectures on Natural Philosophy, and above all, his Introductory Discourse to the Supplement to the Encyclopædia Brittannica, with the final cor rection of which he was occupied up to the last moments that the progress of his disease allowed him to dedicate to any intellectual exertion.

With reference to these works, we do not think we are influenced by any national, or other partiality, when we say that he was certainly one of the best writers of his age;