There are two modes of historical composition, the artistic and
the scientific. The former implies that men give origin to
events; it therefore selects some prominent individual, pictures
him under a fanciful form, and makes him the hero of a romance.
The latter, insisting that human affairs present an unbroken
chain, in which each fact is the offspring of some preceding
fact, and the parent of some subsequent fact, declares that men
do not control events, but that events control men. The former
gives origin to compositions, which, however much they may
interest or delight us, are but a grade above novels; the latter
is austere, perhaps even repulsive, for it sternly impresses us
with a conviction of the irresistible dominion of law, and the
insignificance of human exertions. In a subject so solemn as that
to which this book is devoted, the romantic and the popular are
altogether out of place. He who presumes to treat of it must fix
his eyes steadfastly on that chain of destiny which universal
history displays; he must turn with disdain from the phantom
impostures of pontiffs and statesmen and kings.

If any thing were needed to show us the untrustworthiness of
artistic historical compositions, our personal experience would
furnish it. How often do our most intimate friends fail to
perceive the real motives of our every-day actions; how
frequently they misinterpret our intentions! If this be the case
in what is passing before our eyes, may we not be satisfied that
it is impossible to comprehend justly the doings of persons who
lived many years ago, and whom we have never seen.

In selecting and arranging the topics now to be presented, I have
been guided in part by "the Confession" of the late Vatican