ent
his great works from ever commanding the attention of a numerous body
of general readers, however much they may be esteemed by the learned
and studious. Conscious of this deficiency, he makes scarce any
attempt to make his narrative interesting; but, reserving his whole
strength for general views on the progress of society, or philosophic
observations on its most important changes, he fills up the
intermediate space with long quotations from chronicles, memoirs, and
state papers--a sure way, if the selection is not made with great
judgment, of rendering the whole insupportably tedious. Every
narrative, to be interesting, should be given in the writer's _own
words_, unless on those occasions, by no means frequent, when some
striking or remarkable expressions of a speaker, or contemporary
writer, are to be preserved. Unity of style and expression is as
indispensable in a history which is to move the heart, or fascinate
the imagination, as in a tragedy, a painting, or an epic poem.

But, in addition to this, Sismondi's general views, though ordinarily
just, and always expressed with clearness and precision, are not
always to be taken without examination. Like Robertson, he was never
able to extricate himself entirely from the early prejudices of his
country and education; hardly any of the Geneva school of philosophers
have been able to do so. Brought up in that learned and able, but
narrow, and in some respects bigoted community, he was early engaged
in the vast undertaking of the History of the Italian Republics. Thus,
before he was well aware of it, and at a time of life, when the
opinions are flexible, and easily moulded by external impressions, he
became irrevocably enamoured of such little communities as he had
lived in, or was describing, and imbibed all the prejudices against
the Church of Rome, which have naturally, from close proximity, and
the endurance of unutterable evils at its hands, been ever prevalent
among the Calvinists of Geneva. These causes have tinged his otherwise
impartial views with two signal prejudices, which appear in all his
writings where these subjects are even remotely alluded to. His
partiality for municipal institutions, and the social system depending
on them, is as extravagant, as his aversion to the Church of Rome is
conspicuous and intemperate. His idea of a perfect society would be a
confederacy of little republics, governed by popularly elected
magistrates, holding the scarlet