matter of individual appreciation. Unlike æsthetic judgment, its ideas depend not so much on opinion as they rest on fact. The reason that literature, therefore, has hitherto failed to undergo such an examination as this, is due to the overwhelming mass of new material which of late years has been brought into the study of history. Ranke pushed back the historical horizon by his use of documents. Since his day many other scholars have gone on with his task and material yearly sees the light which before lay mouldering in archives even when its existence was not unknown. His lesson, however, has in some measure been misapplied. His own desire having been to summon assistance from all sides by this new study of documents, his successors have only rarely crossed the threshold of political history with its immediate environment. The proportions of a further task may well prove formidable, the more so when a comparative treatment is attempted. Yet this last will be essential for the true historian. As Ranke himself was able to solve obscure questions in English history by his knowledge of contemporary events in other countries, so the scholar whose survey extends over comparative literature will find his range of vision greatly widened by the ability to appreciate spiritual

motives dominant in other lands. The Tudor ideal of the State, with its conception, so novel in England, of a royal absolutism, no longer seems inexplicable, when a like movement can be traced, not only in the politics but in the literature, as well, of Europe in the Renaissance.

Comparative literature would thus throw light

on the essentials of history by unfolding an element common to all countries in their pursuit in action of inner causes. It would tend, moreover, to present forcibly to the scholar that feeling of the essential brotherhood of nations which offered itself to the mind of mediæval man in the light of a Christian Republic. The historian would see that he described no longer isolated facts but parts of one great movement. Even as it is, the essential unity of human nature, despite of outward garb, is what constantly impresses the student of history. It cannot fail to do so even more when he reads its expression in letters as in action, and traces its course from one fountain head through many shifting channels. He then would realize how an organic unity common to the European world has shaped the destiny of nations, and how at great periods life and letters have been so intimately linked that for the student of the spirit they are inseparable.

The true nature and philosophy of history has so long baffled the scholar that, conscious of its difficulty, many of the greatest historians have searched for new criteria through which to pass their judgment. Thus it came about, with the final proof of evolution and the discovery of the laws of natural selection half a century ago, that kindred mechanical explanations were sought for to interpret history. Taine, Buckle, and our own Draper were among those who tried to explain historical action by geographical environment and found in nature the secret of civilized man. A second school of more recent growth has sought to find that secret in the

operation of economic laws and a study of the routes of trade. Both tests have their value; neither nor both can be wholly sufficient, since each explains accidentals while failing to account for essentials. Physical laws will as little explain genius as economic laws will account for the sacrifice of patriotism. Far deeper spiritual motives must be sought for before success can be achieved.

It may seem a platitude to urge that in ideals lie the formative elements of civilization. Conceive, however, of any great period in the world's history -Periclean Athens, Augustan Rome, or Elizabethan England-as lacking in certain fundamental ideals, such as patriotism, justice, or humanity. True, these are by no means interchangeable, and their outward expression will vary from age to age and from country to country. Yet it is plainly impossible to represent any such period of civilization as lacking altogether in certain of the world's great virtues. It would seem therefore to be the first duty of the student of history to search out and weigh the ideals of any age; to test them with all the critical apparatus at his command and study them as forming part of the great mainsprings of action and conduct. Now there is a twofold expression of idealism—and here, no account will be taken of such evidences of national genius as music, architecture and great feats of engineering may afford; since however valuable in themselves they are rarely definite enough to permit of historical expression in other fields than their own. Far rather do ideals in action and in letters lie ready to be studied. The former have been

treated by historians in all ages; the latter, with rare exception, have been the province of critics of literature alone.

The student of ideals in action will naturally find many counteracting elements in conflict with the pure expression of the ideal. Such limitations as are the result of chance and opportunity in conduct will tend obviously to interfere with preconceived design. It is for this reason that all general laws are so difficult of application and that great historical events of far-reaching importance have often rightly been ascribed to trifling causes. though fulfilment became frequently a matter of chance, the purpose of action was often similar. Cæsar Borgia failed in his efforts to establish an Italian kingdom, while Ferdinand of Aragon succeeded in uniting Spain. The purpose of each was the same, the measure of their success was different.

It

Yet

may, perhaps, be asked of what use it is to trace the history of failures. Cannot the lost causes of mankind be ignored until its successes have better been understood? To do so, however, would be to overlook the true meaning of the human element in history-and when that is stripped the rest soon falls to the ground. The old Greek idea of tragedy, the action of man struggling against adverse fate, is as impressive in historical action as it is in drama. Napoleon is none the less striking a figure in the glow of Austerlitz because destined to end his life a prisoner on the barren rock of St. Helena. Others than John Brown have lain mouldering in their graves whose souls have marched onward to glory.

To seek beneath the surface in order to find the influence of defeated or resisted action is, however, not always necessary. A medium, easier to read than the conduct of men, is at hand to express the potentialities of the ideal. It is in this that the study of letters enters to aid the historian's researches. To ideal literature it matters little that the outward embodiment of its ideal has been defeated or destroyed. The Frankish warrior Roland may well have died at Roncesvalles in a border fray against the Moor. The song of which he was the hero breathed the rising spirit of Christian chivalry and nascent patriotism more strongly than if success had greeted his arms and his life had been preserved to teach others by its example. The limitations of life itself, which constantly force themselves on the student of history, are thus minimized by their expression in ideal literature. True, but this is not history, it will be urged. Nor should it be claimed of literature, taken in this connection, that it is more than a most valuable adjunct to history, a pilot chart of each age and guide to the spirit of a nation as unaffected by counteracting elements. And the further fact that all limitations are not effaced in ideal literature is to the essential advantage of the historian, who is thus able to balance the characteristic qualities of each age against those which are universal.

Such a study of literature would go far towards solving the relation between ideals in action and in letters. That a definite relationship binds the two it is impossible to deny. No great era in the world's