II.  The second kind of history we may call the Reflective. It is history whose mode of representation is not really confined by the limits of the time to which it relates, but whose spirit transcends the present.  In this second order a strongly marked variety of species may be distinguished.

1.  It is the aim of the investigator to gain a view of the entire history of a people, of a country, or of the world in short, what we call universal history.  In this case the working up of the historical material is the main point.  The workman approaches his task with his own spirit—­a spirit distinct from that of the element he is to manipulate.

Here a very important consideration is the principles to which the author refers the bearing and motives of the actions and events which he describes, as well as those which determine the form of his narrative.  Among us Germans this reflective treatment and the display of ingenuity which it affords assume a manifold variety of phases.  Every writer of history proposes to himself an original method.  The English and French confess to general principles of historical composition, their viewpoint being more nearly that of cosmopolitan or national culture.  Among us, each labors to invent a purely individual point of view; instead of writing history, we are always beating our brains to discover how history ought to be written.

This first kind of Reflective history is most nearly akin to the preceding, when it has no further aim than to present the annals of a country complete.  Such compilations (among which may be mentioned the works of Livy, Diodorus Siculus, Johannes von Mueller’s History of Switzerland) are, if well performed, highly meritorious.  Among the best of the kind may be included such annalists as approach those of the first-class writers who give so vivid a transcript of events that the reader may well fancy himself listening to contemporaries and eye-witnesses.  But it often happens that the individuality of tone which must characterize a writer belonging to a different culture is not modified in accordance with the periods which such a record must traverse.  The spirit of the writer may be quite apart from that of the times of which he treats.  Thus Livy puts into the mouths of the old Roman kings, consuls, and generals, such orations as would be delivered by an accomplished advocate of the Livian era, and which strikingly contrast with the genuine traditions of Roman antiquity—­witness, for example, the fable of Menenius Agrippa.  In the same way he gives us descriptions of battles as if he had been an actual spectator; but their salient points would serve well enough for battles in any period, for their distinctness contrasts, even in his treatment of chief points of interest, with the want of connection and the inconsistency that prevail elsewhere.  The difference between such a compiler and an original historian may be best seen by comparing Polybius himself