(...)"PREFACEONE of M. de Vogue's delightful historical essays opens with this passage—" Have you no stall at the theatre this evening ? Or is the play they are giving dull and of indifferent merit ? Never mind—for you can easily console yourself if you have any volumes of history on your shelves. They contain the inexhaustible repertory of the great Human Comedy—that masterpiece of pathos and irony which has never ceased to unfold itself since the curtain of the firmament was first raised upon this ancient stage. Works of history are like the statesmen whose proceedings they relate. Viewed from a distance by those who do not really know them, they seem to be of a severe and forbidding gravity, entirely occupied with grandiose designs, worthy of the respect which dwells on the yonder side of boredom. But there is no need to be alarmed either by folios or by potentates. Insinuate yourself into their confidence; strip off their masks; look for what lies beneath their magniloquent phrases and their garb of ceremony. Thenv+A K 589016you will discover that these great companions of yours are of flesh and blood like yourself, and laugh and weep as you do. Life would be infinitely amusing — would it not ? — if one could live with no emotion but that of curiosity, always a spectator of the drama, and never an actor in it. Very well. History is only the life which lies behind us, and is therefore free from menace for the looker-on. Like life, it belongs to the unbridled romantic school, ■ devoid of respect for the classical distinctions between different artistic genres. All elements jostle in it—the sublime with the ridiculous— the farcical with the pathetic.(...)"
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