education alone adverts. It is these which he endeavours chiefly to remember. It is these that make up the treasures, and constitute the capital, as it were, of his mind, -the remainder of each volume is but that subordinate portion which has no value but as connected with the other, and is often made up of those errors and imperfections which are in fact the inseparable attendants of every human production, which are observed and avoided by every writer or reasoner who follows, and which gradually become in one age only the exploded characteristics of another.

It is thus that human knowledge becomes progressive, and that the general intelligence of society gains a new station in advance, from the reiterated impulses of each succeeding mind. It therefore by no means follows, when books are read in parts, that they are therefore read superficially. Some books (says my Lord Bacon) are to be tasted, some few to be chewed and digested that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. The same may be pretty generally said of the different portions of the same work. Much care and circumspection must undoubtedly be used in selecting and discriminating the parts to be tasted, to be chewed, and to be digested. The more youthful the mind, the less skilful will be the choice, and the more hazardous the privilege, thus allowed, of reading pages by a glance and chapters by a table of contents. But the mind, after some failures and some experience, will materially improve in this great and necessary art, the art of reading much, while reading little. Now, if there be any department of human inquiry into which this very delicate, difficult, and dangerous mode of reading may be introduced, it is surely that of history. Whatever may be thought of books of science or of knowledge, in books of history at least there is every variety in the importance of different passages. Neither events, nor characters, nor periods of time are at all the same or of equal consequence. Nor are the writers of like merit with each other, or of like authority, or have they written with the same views, or are they to be consulted for the same purposes. There is ample room, therefore, for the exercise of judgment in the preference we give to one writer above

another, and in the different degrees of attention which we exercise upon one event, or character, or era, rather than another; and, as the powers as well as the opportunities of the human mind are bounded, it behoves us well to consider what is the nature of the burthen we impose upon our faculties ; for assuredly he who is very anxious to load his memory with much, will in general have little which in the hour of need he can produce, and still less of which his understanding has ascertained the value. Such are the considerations by which I have been reconciled to the modes I have proposed, of struggling with the difficulties I have described.

Before I proceed, I must turn aside for a moment to say one word in the way of digression upon this most important subject of memory.

It cannot but be supposed, that he who reads and retains the most, will always have a superiority over those whose talents or diligence are in truth inferior. But this only renders it a point of prudence the more pressing upon every man to inform himself thoroughly of the nature of his own capacity, particularly of his memory, and to provide accordingly. It is peculiarly so on an historical student. After having

considered what he may pass over slightly and what he must regularly read, he may next consider what he is to remember minutely, what generally; and what, for the purpose of remembering better things, he may suffer himself to think of no

more.

Now what I would wish to suggest to my hearers, more especially to those whose memories are either of a common or of an inferior description, is this, that general impressions, that general recollections, are of far greater importance than might be at first supposed.

General impressions will enable us to treasure up in our minds all the great leading lessons, all the philosophy of history.

General impressions are quite sufficient to suggest the similarity of cases. They will, therefore, always enable a reader of history to conjecture with sufficient accuracy whether the details, if referred to, would, on any given occasion, be of importance.

General impressions are sufficient to prevent us from making

positive mistakes ourselves, and even from suffering them to be made by others. We are aware that there is something which we have read on the point at issue, though we do not precisely recollect it. But the apprehension that is left on the mind, obscure and imperfect as it may be, still suffers a sort of violence, when any statement positively inaccurate is presented to it. We at least suspend our judgment. We require that the question may not be determined till after proper examination.

General impressions, indeed, will not furnish a reasoner in conversation, an advocate at the bar, or a debater in parliament, with proper authorities, at the very moment of need, to establish his statements and illustrate his arguments; or with all the proper materials of wit and eloquence. A weak memory can never afford to its possessor the advantages which result from a memory capacious and retentive; yet may it still be very adequate, by careful management, to many of the most useful purposes of reflection and study; it may still enable a man to benefit himself and to administer to the instruction of others.

And now, before I turn away from this particular part of my prefatory address, I must confess to you, that, after all the expedients I have resorted to for the purpose of abridging your labors, I am well aware that many of you will still be disheartened and repelled by the number of books which you will hear me quote and refer to, before my lectures are brought to a conclusion.

I must, therefore, enter still further into detail, and call your attention to the syllabus which I have drawn up, and which you can hereafter consult.

You will there observe, in the first place, a course of reading pointed out so short, that it would be quite improper to suppose that the most indolent or the most busy among you cannot now or hereafter accomplish it. This first course, as you will see by attending to the notes, may be enlarged into a second. This again into a third.

In this manner I have endeavoured to provide for every different case that may exist among you. You have three different courses exhibited to you.

But with respect to the remainder of the syllabus and the number of books mentioned in the lectures, which may be

considered as the fourth and last course, you will see, on a little reflection, that it is fit you should not only read any particular shorter course, but hear and understand what may be found in one still larger, even if you should not be likely hereafter to attempt it.

Your time will not be entirely thrown away while you are listening to the references I make and the descriptions I give, even though you should not always turn to the particular books and passages I thus recommend. You will at least know, after a certain indistinct manner, what history is, and this is the great use of all public lectures; for public lectures may give you a general idea of any science or subject, but can never, of themselves, do much more, they can never put you in possession of it. Add to this, that of the whole of this last and most extended course, thus presented in these lectures to your curiosity, you may read minutely any parts that may more particularly interest you and not others; the Reformation, for instance, or the great struggle in the times of Charles the First. Do not, therefore, be alarmed, any of you, when you see and hear the number of books I may refer you to.

Finally, I must take upon myself to assure you, that if you show the syllabus to any man of letters, or any real student of the history of this or other countries, you will hear him only expressing his surprise that such and such books, which he will mention, are omitted, and that such and such portions of history (of India, for instance, or Ireland) are not even so much as alluded to. Believe me, he will not blame your lecturer for having offered too much to your curiosity. He will rather suppose him not sufficiently aware of all the proper objects of historical inquiry. Men of letters and real statesmen never cease to read history, as they never cease to occupy themselves in every different department of elegant and useful literature. Reading and reflection become with them a business and a pleasure, ceasing but with their lives.

Having thus endeavoured to give you some idea of the object of these lectures, and the general manner in which they are to be conducted, I must now say a word with respect to their extent.

It had not been my original intention to bring them down

lower than the breaking out of the French Revolution; at that memorable period, modern history appeared to begin anew, and I long remained in the persuasion that my successors, not to speak of myself, would for some time scarcely find it within their competence to undertake an estimate of this tremendous event, its origin, its progress, and its consequences.

I had therefore always bounded my plan by the American Revolution; and, after executing what I had thus proposed to myself as a proper object of my labor, I remained for some few years without making any further attempt. At last I thought it my duty to endeavour to go on. But, even in executing my first original plan, my progress was slow.

I had many books to read and examine, to ascertain whether they were to be recommended or not, whether to a certain extent, whether at all.

Much of my labor can never appear in any positive shape, and will chiefly operate in saving my hearers from that very occupation of time, which has so interrupted the advance of my own exertions.

I may point out to others, as paths to be avoided, paths where I have myself wandered in vain, and from whence I have returned fatigued and disappointed.

Thus much with respect to the object, the method, and the extent of my lectures.

And now I must call the attention of my hearers to a difficulty which belongs to all public lectures on history, and which I conceive to be of considerable importance. It is this. A lecturer must refer sometimes to books which have not been read at all by his hearers; and perpetually to those that have not been read lately, or with very minute attention. He must presuppose a knowledge which has not been acquired, or not retained. He must, therefore, often make remarks which cannot be judged of, - deliver sentiments and opinions which must necessarily be unintelligible, and make frequent allusions which cannot be felt or comprehended by those whom he addresses. The truth is, that a lecturer arranges and writes down what he has to deliver while full of his subject, with all the information he can collect fresh and present to his mind; and he then approaches his hearers, who have in the