some curious letters to the literary antiquary Dr. Birch, Eobertson
acknowledges "my chief object is to _adorn_, as far as I am capable of
adorning, the history of a period which deserves to be better known," He
probably took his lesson from Voltaire, the reigning author of that day,
and a great favourite with Robertson. Voltaire indeed tells us, that no
writers, but those who have composed tragedies, can throw any interest
into a history; that we must know to paint and excite the passions; and
that a history, like a dramatic piece, must have situation, intrigue, and
catastrophe; an observation which, however true, at least shows that there
can be but a moderate quantity of truth in such agreeable narratives.
Robertson's notion of _adorning_ history was the pleasing labour of
genius--it was to amplify into vastness, to colour into beauty, and
to arrange the objects of his meditation with a secret artifice of
disposition. Such an historian is a sculptor, who, though he display a
correct semblance of nature, is not less solicitous to display the
miracles of his art, and enlarges his figures to a colossal dimension.
Such is theoretical history.

The theoretical historian communicates his own character to his history;
and if, like Robertson, he be profound and politic, he detects the secret
motives of his actors, unravels the webs of cabinet councils, explains
projects that were unknown, and details stratagems which never took place.
When we admire the fertile conceptions of the Queen Regent, of Elizabeth,
and of Bothwell, we are often defrauding Robertson of whatever admiration
may be due to such deep policy.

When Hume received from Dr. Birch Forbes's Manuscripts and Murdin's
State-papers, in great haste he writes to his brother historian:--"What I
wrote you with regard to Mary, &c., was from the printed histories and
papers. But I am now sorry to tell you that by Murdin's State-papers, the
matter is put beyond all question. I got these papers during the holidays
by Dr. Birch's means; and as soon as I read them _I ran to Millar_, and
desired him very earnestly to stop the publication of your history till I
should write to you, and give you an opportunity of correcting a mistake
so important; but he absolutely refused compliance. He said that your book
was now finished; that the whole narrative of Mary's trial must be wrote
over again; that it was uncertain whether the new narrative could be
brought within the same compass