is moved by the emotions he feels, and his character is expressed in the institutions he devises in order to secure what he longs for. The individual may be deceitful and what he writes may be the curtain behind which he manœuvres: but what he does and the record he makes in doing it are as artless as the utensil he designs and the ornamentation he puts upon it. Moreover, in the modern democracy, the individual of every rank is an insider. In ancient and mediæval democracies the laborer was either a slave or a powerless serf. When in the majority, he could only influence affairs indirectly or by revolution: to-day he has at hand every instrument known to those who work with their heads or with their capital; and he wields one which they have not,—the force of numbers. Theoretically then the truth should be easier to discern and more self-evident in our time than ever before. If the literary artist be at hand, his task of investigation should be easier than that of his predecessors and his materials should be more reliable than ever; the product of his genius ought, consequently, to be more splendid.

There is one other point which deserves attention in connection with these theoretical considerations, and that is the attitude of the reader. Without sympathetic and careful readers there can be no artistic history, exactly as there can be no poetry, no sculpture, no painting without an appreciative and discriminating public. Does such a public exist for the historian? That the readers of history are numerous will not be denied, if we may judge from the publishers' announcements and from the records of our libraries. The histories of our day which the public esteems pass through many editions and are sold at prices which books of no other class. can command. But of the intellectual quality among these readers it is not so easy to speak with confidence. On the one hand it is true that our most careful workers, men like Bancroft or Parkman or Alexander Johnston, or those of the living whose names will occur to every reader, seem to create an audience for themselves without difficulty. But it is also true, on the other hand, that this may be due to that mere desire for information which is not one of the best signs of the times. Whether readers rise from perusing the best products of the day with any definite conception of the historian's spirit and purpose is another question.

The systematic teaching of history in our schools and colleges is still far to seek. The larger universities have an imposing array of historical chairs, but they do not demand as a condition of entrance to their lecture rooms a thorough knowledge of general history. For the most part it is American history which, in deference to patriotic but unintelligent public opinion, is set as the subject of

preliminary work; although in a few cases English history is admitted as a substitute. In other words, the logical process of teaching is exactly reversed, and our youth begin with a highly specialized subject of historical study before they have laid the foundation of general liberal knowledge. The educated class being thus poorly equipped at the very outset by the fault of our system, a bias toward some specialty easily prejudices the immature judgment as to other portions of history and emphasizes the value of materials with regard to themselves and to the particular structure into which they enter. The historical reviewers of our great journals are, with a few fine exceptions, examples of how specialties overshadow the genuine system of which they are a part. In order to display their own erudition the critics must belittle that of the writer, and so attention is directed not to him nor to the complete product of his mind, but to his materials, his canvas, his colors, his brushes or what not, anything but the picture he has made. The burden of the reviewer's instruction generally is that the reader is not to tolerate preaching or mere writing, but that he must scrutinize the facts and the authority on which assertions are made. Of the requirement of accuracy there can be no complaint: but the correlation and presentation of the facts cannot be done by mere arrangement or without the very discursiveness which is stigmatized as ornament, style, preaching, or fine writing; and it is in this correlation and explanation of the causal relation that the highest capacity of the true historian is displayed. May we not hope that, in time, the paramount importance of this truth will be recognized by intelligent readers, and that they will be on the lookout not for new information solely nor for erudite reference to archives, rare books and manuscript authorities alone, but for the method and spirit which constitute the intellectual personality of the writer, in order to judge not only of his industry but of his spiritual dimensions? Without this there can be no historical literature and none of that leadership in historical opinion, the absence of which renders the whole science vague and nugatory. Great minds only can construct systems, and the knowledge which is unrelated to philosophy has little value, if indeed it be anything more than curious information.

Turning from speculation to examine historically what are the chances in America for history that shall be alike scientific and artistic, the prospect is certainly not discouraging, unless the retrospect be entirely misleading. Since the earliest settlement of the country, the Europeans who chose it for their home have been deeply impressed with the significance of the enterprise in

which they were engaged, and in consequence have been determined that a permanent record of their experiences should be kept. In the seventeenth century we had among the cavaliers that boastful and loquacious travel-writer and hero-worshipper, Captain John Smith, whose pictures and pages emphasize the importance of small beginnings, especially when guided by so truly great a man as himself. We have his quaint countertype among the Puritans in gossiping, rhyming Edward Johnson, to whom plain people were the substance of history. And in that century, too, we had the grave and trustworthy governors, Bradford and Winthrop, who, with equal piety and grace, delineated the two settlements with which they were respectively concerned as links in the divine plan, as correlated with the moral order of the universe. The next hundred years gave us five historical writers of note: for New England, Cotton Mather, the monument of erudition and credulity, Thomas Prince, the scholarly collector and annalist, and Thomas Hutchinson, the first philosophic American historian; for the South, Robert Beverley, geographer and historian of Virginia, with William Stith, the laborious and accurate compiler of her early records. The century of our independence is often designated the classic era of our historical writing; and, indeed, it would be difficult for any country in any age to display a galaxy of names more brilliant than that which is composed of Gordon, Marshall, Irving, Bancroft, Hildreth, Prescott, Motley, and Parkman. So splendid has been their achievement in various lines of work that a sense of hopelessness frequently manifests itself in the present and rising generation, a feeling that the nation must have exhausted itself, at least temporarily, in producing such learning and industry, and that an interval of incubation must elapse before such vigor can be shown again in the same direction.

This was, as may be imagined, far from being the sentiment of the numerous and enthusiastic muster of historical students which selected an editorial board to found this review. It is not the opinion of the liberal guarantors who have come to its financial support, nor of the subscribers whose assistance shows warm approval of its plan. For no one of these classes have either the editors or the writer a mandate to speak. Any attempt to foreshadow the character and sphere of a publication, the prospect of which seems already to have awakened much interest, must be purely personal, and marked by the diffidence of irresponsibility. But it appears as if THE AMERICAN HISTORICAL REVIEW owed its existence to certain plain facts, and that its character must depend

upon certain self-evident truths. In the first place, there is no check on the course of historical study in the United States: on the contrary, the volume becomes daily greater. In the second place, there is no decrease in the number of historical writers. Confined no longer, as in a former epoch, to the elegant, wealthy, and studious society of Federalist New England, they are now found in every district of the land, and among men of every shade of political and religious opinion. In the third place the reading public is daily enlarging, and its intelligence, as we trust, is proportionately increasing. These phenomena are probably both cause and effect with regard one to the other; but, taken as a whole, they create a grave responsibility, which earnest and patriotic men have long felt should be recognized and assumed by somebody. This is the responsibility for co-ordination and intelligent criticism in historical work. The strength of this feeling has long been noticeable; and when at last, in several centres of learning simultaneously, it became too strong for repression, the movement to give it outlet and direction was virtually spontaneous among all historical workers. The unity of purpose and the disinterestedness displayed were unique in the history of similar movements, so far as the United States are concerned. The universities laid aside their rivalries, scholars emerged from their closets, representatives of cities and districts contending for distinction as literary hearthstones banished every jealousy, there was a singleness of hearty feeling, and a sturdy good-will to overcome all obstacles. This review, therefore, must, by the auspices under which it begins, display the largest catholicity possible, and an impartiality willing always to hear the other side. It can in no sense be an organ of any school, locality, or clique. Controversial it certainly must be, but we trust always within the limits of courtesy. The mission of critic, to which reference has been made, implies much. There is something in the very word "criticism" which in established usage indicates blame; and we too often use it as synonymous with sarcasm and depreciation. But among the countless advances made by the human spirit none is greater than the substitution of the constructive for the destructive notion in the highest and most advanced criticism. It is in this direction that we hope the new periodical will move. Its primary object is indicated by its name of Review. No doubt it must and should print articles embodying the results of investigation and monographs of importance; but it ought chiefly to be a critical review, fearless to denounce a bad or superficial book which solicits public favor, equally courageous to sustain one which presents unpopular truth,

and sufficiently learned to give reasons for its opinions. Incidentally, too, the amount of notice should as far as possible be indicative of the relative values of the volumes named. Finally, it must assist historical scholars by furnishing materials that could not otherwise be published, and by keeping its professional readers abreast with the latest news in the field which most interests them. Believing that our democracy with its growing numbers, wealth, and inhuence will nevertheless remain historically minded and therefore afford proportionate support to the best historical work, we trust that all the elements it embraces may find representation and encouragement in these pages. The profounder our study of ourselves, the stronger will grow our conviction of the organic relation between our own history and that of the world. Every division of the field of general history from the earliest to the latest times should be represented here as it is among American investigators. At the same time the orientalists and the classicists, being compelled to use philology, archæology, and the other disciplines kindred to history, as the chief instruments of their work, have each their own particular and special periodicals: so also have the students of political economy, political science, and jurisprudence; we can have no intention to appropriate the fields already pre-empted by their able reviews. Consequently, therefore, in the selection of material for our readers, while we shall welcome contributions in ancient history, oriental or classical, we must emphasize the importance of medieval, modern, and contemporaneous history, not excluding a fair consideration for uncontroversial ecclesiastical investigation, and using all these terms in a sense so broad as to put no hampering limitation upon them, remaining ever hospitable to themes in the line of biography or historical philosophy, and especially to discussions of method and system in historical science. The disciplines concerned with humanity claim as an advantage over those concerned with the external world that they have no hard and fast boundaries, and that they afford free play to the discursive faculties. We must frankly confess that expediency, timeliness, and similar considerations will necessarily govern those who manage an historical journal like this one, but as far as the present writer has understood the deliberations of his colleagues, their general purpose is indicated, though roughly, in the sketch he has given of their aims during the time they are intrusted with the charge of THE AMERICAN HISTORICAL REVIEW. Its ability to sustain its interest, to secure the strongest contributors, to preserve its independence, to furnish valuable material, and to do the best work generally for the cause to which it is devoted