hilosophic_ History of the
Reign of Louis XV."[2] We regret the title: we have an instinctive
aversion to _soi-disant_ philosophic histories. Those that really are
so, invariably shun the name. Robertson, in his first volume of Charles
V.; Guizot in his "Civilisation Europeenne;" Sismondi, in his "Essais
sur les Sciences Sociales," and the last volume of his "Republiques
Italiennes," have carried the philosophy of history to the highest
perfection; but none of them thought of calling their immortal works
"Philosophic Histories." Schlegel has written an admirable book not
improperly styled "the _Philosophy_ of History;" but it avowedly is not
a history, but a review of the general conclusions which seemed
deducible from it. Bossuet entitled his celebrated work, "Histoire
Universelle," without a word of philosophy. In truth, philosophy, though
a corollary from history, is not its primary object. That is, and ever
must be, the narrative of human events. Not but what the noblest and
most important lessons of philosophy may and should be deduced from
history; but they should be _deduced_, not made the main object of the
work. The reason is obvious: history is addressed to the great body of
mankind; to most of whom, narrative of event, if told in an agreeable
manner, may be made an object of interest; but to not one in twenty of
whom general or philosophic conclusions ever can be a matter of the
smallest concern. History, in truth, is much more nearly allied to
poetry, oratory, and painting. The drama is but the expansion of its
touching scenes,--painting, the representation of its fleeting events.
Even to the few who are gifted by nature with the power of abstract
thought, it is often hazardous to push matters to a conclusion too
openly. Lingard evinced the profound knowledge of the human heart by
which the Church of Rome has ever been distinguished, when, in his
skilful narrative, he concealed the Roman Catholic save in the facts
which he brought forward. It is well to enlist self-love on the side of
truth. No conclusions are so readily embraced, as those which the reader
flatters himself he himself has had a large share in drawing. Like the
famous images which were withheld from the funeral of Junia, they are
only the more present to the mind that they are withdrawn from the
sight.

Perhaps M. de Tocqueville meant, by prefixing this title to his work, to
prepare his readers for what they were to expect. He does not aim at