perior, to any of his former productions. Still we would look at the work in a different point of view. It is History. We hesitate not to say that it is History in its truest—in its only true, proper, and philosophical garb. Sismondi's works—were not. There is no greater error than dignifying with the name of History a tissue of dates and details, though the dates be ordinarily correct, and the details indisputably true. Not even with the aid of acute comment will such a tissue satisfy our individual notions of History. To the effect let us look—to the impression rather than to the seal. And how very seldom is any definite impression left upon the mind of the historical reader! How few bear away—even from the pages of Gibbon—Rome and the Romans. Vastly different was the genius of Niebuhr—than whom no man possessed a more discriminative understanding of the uses and the purposes of the pen of the historiographer. But we digress. Bearing in mind that "to contemplate"—ὶστορεῖν[1]—should and must be allowed a more noble and a more expansive acceptation than has been usually given it, we shall often discover in Fiction the essential spirit and vitality of Historic Truth—while Truth itself, in many a dull and lumbering Archive, shall be found guilty of all the inefficiency of Fiction.
"Rienzi," then, is History. But there are other aspects in which it may be regarded with advantage. Let us survey it as a profound and lucid exposition of
- ↑ History, from ὶστορεῖν, to contemplate, seems, among the Greeks, to have embraced not only the knowledge of past events, but also Mythology, Esopian and Milesian fables, Romance, Tragedy and Comedy. But our business is with things, not words. (Poe's Note.)
