I have been reading with enjoyment and great profit John Burrow's A History of Histories. In effect he does what the title indicates: discusses and comments upon works of great historians from Herodotus to the twentieth century. Since I shall, alas, not read most of them in the span of life remaining, it is good to be introduced to them by so knowledgeable and articulate a guide.Here are three quotes from the historians treated that struck me in a special way.From Gregory of Tours (6th century), lamenting the death of young children from the plague:

And so we lost our little ones, who were so dear to us and sweet, whom we cherished in our bosoms and dandled in our arms, whom we had fed and nurtured with such loving care. As I write, I wipe away my tears.

Burrow comments: "Gregory has the ability, like Herodotus, to annihilate historical time in contemplation of a common humanity."From Jocelin of Brakelonde, a 13th century monk, on his youthful indiscretion in the lobbying that preceded the election of a new abbot of Bury Saint Edmonds:

On one occasion I could not contain my spirit, but blurted out what I thought, thinking that I spoke to faithful ears, and I said that a certain brother was unworthy to be abbot, though he had loved me and conferred many benefits upon me; and I said I thought another worthy to be abbot, and named a man whom I loved less.I spake as my conscience bade me, considering the common good rather than my own advancement, and I spoke the truth, as the sequel proved. And behold! one of the sons of Belial revealed what I had said to my benefactor and friend; for which cause to this day I have never either by prayer or gift been able to recover his favor to the full ... and, if I live long enough to see the abbacy vacant once again, I shall take care what I say.

Finally, from the 18th century philosopher David Hume (better known in his lifetime as an historian), on the trial and witness of Charles I:

It is confessed that the King's behaviour, during this last period of his life, does great honour to his memory; and that in all appearances before his judges, he never forgot his part, either as a prince or as a man. Firm and intrepid, he maintained, in each reply, the utmost perspicuity and justness, both of thought and expression: Mild and equable, he rose into no passion at that unusual authority which was assumed over him. His soul, without effort or affectation, seemed only to remain in the situation familiar to it, and to look down with contempt on all the efforts of human malice and iniquity.