the times of Charlemagne, even though from the latter we possess a greater number of documents; this is why we can write a history of Augustus and rectify so many mistakes made about him by preceding generations.  It has often happened to me to find, a propos of the volumes written on Augustus, that my contradiction of tradition creates a kind of instinctive diffidence.  Many say:  “Yes, this book is interesting; but is it possible that for twenty centuries everybody has been mistaken?—­that it was necessary to wait till 1908 to understand what occurred in the year 8?” But those twenty centuries reduce themselves, as far as regards the possibility of understanding Augustus, to little more than a hundred years.  Since Augustus was the last representative of a world that was disappearing, his figure soon became obscure and enigmatic.  Tacitus and Suetonius saw him already enveloped in the mist of that new spirit which for so many centuries was to conceal from human eyes the wonderful spectacle of the pagan world.  Then the mist became a fog and grew denser, until Augustus disappeared, or was but a formless shadow.  Centuries passed by; the fog began to withdraw before the returning sun of the ancient culture; his figure reappeared.  Fifty years ago, the obscurity cleared quite away; the figure stands in plain view with outlines well defined.  I believe that the history I have written is more like the truth than those preceding it, but I do not consider myself on that account a wonder-worker.  I know I have been able to correct many preceding errors, because I was the first to look attentively when the moment to see and understand arrived.

Roman History in Modern Education.

When I announced my intention to write a new history of Rome, many people manifested a sense of astonishment similar to what they would have felt had I said that I meant to retire to a monastery.  Was it to be believed that the hurrying modern age, which bends all its energies toward the future, would find time to look back, even for a moment, at that past so far away?  That my attempt was rash was the common opinion not only of friends and critics, but also of publishers, who everywhere at first showed themselves skeptical and hesitating.  They all said that the public was quite out of touch with Roman affairs.  On the contrary, facts have demonstrated that also in this age, in aspect so eager for things modern, people of culture are willing to give attention to the events and personages of ancient Rome.

The thing appears strange and bizarre, as is natural, to those who had not considered it possible; consequently, few have seen how simple and clear is its explanation.  To those who showed surprise that the history of Rome could become fashionable in Paris salons, I have always replied:  My history has had its fortune because it was the history of Rome.  Written with the same method and in the same style, a history of Venice, or Florence, or England, would not have had the same