“The Spectator,” September 13, 1913

It has happened to most of the great actors on the world's stage that their posthumous fame has undergone many vicissitudes. Laudatur ab his, culpatur ab illis. They have at times been eulogised or depreciated by partisan historians who have searched eagerly the records of the past with a view to eliciting facts and arguments to support the political views they have severally entertained as regards the present. Even when no such incentive has existed, the temptation to adopt a novel view of some celebrated man or woman whose character and career have floated down the tide of history cast in a conventional mould has occasionally proved highly attractive from a mere literary point of view. The process of whitewashing the bad characters of history may almost be said to have established itself as a fashion.

A similar fate has attended the historians who have recorded the deeds of the world's principal actors. A few cases, of which perhaps Ranke is the most conspicuous, may indeed be cited of historical writers whose reputations are built on foundations so solid and so impervious to attack as to defy criticism. But it has more usually happened, as in the case of Macaulay, that eminent historians have passed through various phases of repute.