1822. ] 
spired. In comparing their career 
with every other which may seem to 
promise more easy success, it will per- 
laps occasion some surprise to see it 
glittering with so many talents of the 
first order. What. other branch of 
science, of literature, ancient and mo- 
dern, can offer such a constellation of 
writers as Moses, Herodotus, 'Thucy- 
dides, Xenophon, Polybius, Sallust, 
Cesar, Livy, Tacitus, Plutarch, and 
those who have dignified and graced 
the two last centuries? From this 
observation, may it not be concluded, 
that if history require the employment 
of great talent, there is no other career 
which is more favourable to the inspi- 
rations of it, and none which renders 
its glory more permanent and con- 
spicuous. 
At different distances from these 
great men we meet with other histo- 
rians worthy of sharing, in various de- 
grees, our admiration and our esteem, 
in proportion as they have been able 
to unite, with more or less skill, feli- 
city of expression with interest of 
matter. 
_ No where is this interest better cal- 
eulated to captivate our reason than 
upon the soil of ancient Rome. The 
ashes of this venerable queen of the 
world are to the historian what the 
ashes of Ilion are to the poet, anda 
step cannot be taken upon this classic 
ground without feeling the emotions 
to which great occurrences give rise. 
If of these the simple recital can com- 
mand the admiration which the Ro- 
man name seems ever destined to 
produce, it may easily be imagined 
what a new charm must be spread 
oyer such scenes by the talent of an 
historian, who, by the interest which 
dramatic forms excite, and by the 
gloomy solemnity of the tomb, gains 
possession of our imagination, and, 
without stripping history of its natural 
gravity, surrounds it with the pleasing 
Ornaments of an ingenious fiction. 
Such is the plan of “the Roman 
nights at the tomb of the Scipios.” In- 
stead of conducting us along the 
beaten track of methodical narration, 
the author suddenly transports us into 
the midst of his actors; he makes us 
sustain a part in their conversations, 
he engages us in their passions, and 
realises for the enchanted mind the 
most beautiful of dreams,—that of be- 
lieving itself cotemporary with the 
great men whose names and whose 
achievements are sq glorious a subject 
Life and Writings of Count Verri. 
109 
of history, from the age of Romulus 
down to modern times. 
It is in the deep recesses of the se- 
pulchre, by the feeble glimmer of a 
quivering light, with the noise of a 
thousand tombs, which open and close 
with an appalling crash, in the midst 
of the spoils of death and whitening 
bones, that the author, by a stretch of 
invention,—the improbability of which 
is forgotten in the felicity of its execn- 
tion,—evokes, during six following 
nights, the ancient race of Romans, 
with all that it has produced of con- 
querors, or illustrious warriors, or dis- 
tinguished orators, and of personages 
celebrated by their misfortunes, their 
virtues, or their crimes. 
The three first nights are passed at 
the very tomb of the Scipios, disco- 
vered in 1780, in a vineyard in the 
neighbourhood of Rome, outside of 
the Porta Capena. It is in the pre- 
sence of the members of that family 
that Cesar, Cicero, Brutus, Pompey, 
the two Catos, the Gracchi, Octavius, 
Antony, Marius, and Sylla, re-pro- 
duce, with an admirable truth of cha- 
racter, the most important events in 
the history of their country. The so- 
lemn discussions of the senate, the de- 
liberations of the people, the tempests 
of the comitia, the progress of conspi- 
racies, the discord between the orders 
of the state, the public cabals, the art 
and the end of conquests, the conceal- 
ed springs of political intrigue, the 
means of corruption, its variety and 
extent; all these assume a second 
existence in animated discussions, 
where the assemblage of different 
ages renders the singularity more in- 
teresting, and the result more in- 
structive. 
It is there that Cicero displays him- 
self at once the father of eloquence, 
the master of sound philosophy, and 
the wise moderator of the troubles of 
his country; that Pomponius Atticus, 
not less distinguished by his absence 
from political factions than by his 
connexion with those who directed 
them, dares to call Rome herself be- 
fore the tribunal of Eternal Justice, 
and pronounce on her institutions, on 
her laws, her usages, and her triumphs, 
—a sentence of judicious severity, 
which seems to dissipate, at least in 
part, the charm of her grandeur. 
By the side of Lucretia,—from 
whom the observations of the in- 
flexible Atticus tend to remove the 
honourable epithet which history at- 
taches 
