For anyone seeking a deeper engagement with the richness of English prose, the classic works of the 18th-century Enlightenment are an exceptional starting point. Many of these texts, renowned for their Latinate prose, feature a magnificent and varied vocabulary, alongside a complex and rigorous sentence structure. They are also profoundly insightful, as the core of the Enlightenment was the rational examination of human nature and society.
Studying these works is a rewarding endeavor. Their rich vocabulary and complex syntax help readers master the precise use of language and grasp the essence of English grammar. More importantly, their profound ideas offer valuable insights into human nature, helping readers cultivate habits of rational analysis and critical thinking. While these books can be challenging at first, persistent effort will not only lead to a significant improvement in reading fluency but will also unlock a deeper, more profound pleasure in their style and substance.
The prose of the early 19th-century Romantic period is also magnificent, but in a different way. It’s more fluid and free-flowing, an expression that came after breaking the self-imposed constraints of the 18th century. Think of it as a state of “acting freely without overstepping boundaries.” For readers of these classics, it’s best to first become familiar with the disciplined elegance of the 18th century before venturing into the more free-form writing of the 19th.
To help you get started, I want to recommend a classic that is now largely forgotten but is incredibly valuable: William Robertson’s The History of Scotland. It belongs to a trio of the most celebrated English historical works of the Enlightenment, alongside Edward Gibbon’s The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire and David Hume’s The History of England. While Gibbon’s work is still widely read and Hume’s is occasionally reprinted, Robertson’s has fallen into obscurity. This is perhaps understandable, given Scotland’s historically marginalized status and its rugged social character.
However, from a stylistic and intellectual standpoint, Robertson’s work is arguably the most readable of the three. To appreciate why, you must understand the core philosophy of historical writing during the Enlightenment. Unlike modern academic history, which can be narrowly focused on specialized research, Enlightenment-era history was seen as a means to an end, not an end in itself. For thinkers of the time, history was a grand social experiment, serving as a conduit for understanding human nature. Historical narratives were considered part of the “belles-lettres” and were expected to be both beautiful and instructive. This is why a magnificent writing style was so crucial—it was a key component of the “amusement” and “instruction” that literary works were expected to provide.
Robertson’s The History of Scotland exemplifies this philosophy. Although its title is broad, the book focuses on a concise sixty-year period. This narrow scope allows Robertson to provide an astonishing level of detail. He meticulously outlines the personalities, motivations, and actions of key figures, as well as the intricacies of political and religious factions. It is through these rich details that history becomes truly alive and profoundly insightful. For example, his descriptions of Mary, Queen of Scots, and Elizabeth I reveal how their political maneuvering, while couched in high-minded rhetoric, was often driven by personal greed and jealousy—a timeless lesson on the nature of power.
In contrast, Gibbon’s Decline and Fall, due to its vast timeline, often lacks this granular detail, leaving many chapters feeling abstract. Hume, for his part, can get bogged down in overly detailed philosophical analysis, which, while brilliant, can disrupt the narrative flow and tire the reader. While Gibbon’s prose is more dazzling, it can sometimes feel formulaic and less nuanced. Robertson’s style, on the other hand, is perfectly suited to his subject. It is elegant and precise, consistently drawing the reader into the narrative without the stylistic distractions of Gibbon or the philosophical asides of Hume.
Below are a few excerpts from William Robertson’s The History of Scotland that demonstrate his exceptional prose:
On the character of the Earl of Arran: The character of the Earl of Arran was, in almost every thing, the reverse of Beatoun’s. He was neither infected with ambition, nor inclined to cruelty: the love of ease extinguished the former, the gentleness of his temper preserved him from the latter. Timidity and irresolution were his predominant failings; the one occasioned by his natural constitution, and the other arising from a consciousness that his abilities were not equal to his station. With these dispositions he might have enjoyed and adorned private life; but his public conduct was without courage, or dignity, or consistence; the perpetual slave of his own fears, and, by consequence, the perpetual tool of those who found their advantage in practising upon them.
On why the cardinal Beatoun brought about his own destruction: Cardinal Beatoun had not used his power with moderation, equal to the prudence by which he attained it. Notwithstanding his great abilities, he had too many of the passions and prejudices of an angry leader of a faction, to govern a divided people with temper. His resentment against one party of the nobility, his insolence towards the rest, his severity to the reformers, and, above all, the barbarous and illegal execution of the famous George Wishart, a man of honourable birth and of primitive sanctity, wore out the patience of a fierce age; and nothing but a bold hand was wanting to gratify the public wish by his destruction. Private revenge, inflamed and sanctified by a false zeal for religion, quickly supplied this want.
On the arrogance of the French: Barbarians are tenacious of their own customs, because they want knowledge and taste to discover the reasonableness and propriety of customs which differ from them. Nations, which hold the first rank in politeness, are frequently no less tenacious out of pride. The Greeks were so in the ancient world; and the French are the same in the modern. Full of themselves; flattered by the imitation of their neighbours; and accustomed to consider their own modes as the standards of elegance; they scorn to disguise, or to lay aside, the distinguishing manners of their own nation, or to make any allowance for what may differ from them among others. For this reason, the behaviour of their armies has, on every occasion, been insupportable to strangers, and has always exposed them to hatred, and often to destruction. In that age, they over-ran Italy four several times by their valour, and lost it as often by their insolence. The Scots, naturally an irascible and high-spirited people, and who, of all nations, can least bear the most distant insinuation of contempt, were not of a temper to admit all the pretensions of such assuming guests.
On the character of King Henry III of France: The great qualities which Henry Ill. had displayed in his youth, and which raised the expectations of his subjects so high, vanished on his ascending the throne; and his acquiring supreme power seems not only to have corrupted his heart, but to have impaired his understanding. He soon lost the esteem and affection of the nation; and a life divided between the austerities of a superstitious devotion, and the extravagancies of the most dissolute debauchery, rendered him as contemptible as he was odious on account of his rapaciousness, his profusion, and the fondness with which he doted on many unworthy minions.
On why Elizabeth I and her confidants decided to execute Mary, Queen of Scots: The more numerous the injuries were which Elizabeth had heaped on Mary, the more she feared and hated that unhappy queen, and came at last to be persuaded that there could be no other security for her own life, but the death of her rival. Burleigh and Walsingham had promoted so zealously all Elizabeth’s measures with regard to Scottish affairs, and had acted with so little reserve in opposition to Mary, that they had reason to dread the most violent effects of her resentment, if ever she should mount the throne of England. From this additional consideration they endeavoured, with the utmost earnestness, to hinder an event so fatal to themselves, by confirming their mistress’s fear and hatred of the Scottish queen.
On why collective wrongdoing is difficult to correct: To abandon usurped power, to renounce lucrative error, are sacrifices, which the virtue of individuals has, on some occasions, offered to truth; but from any society of men no such effort can be expected. The corruptions of a society, recommended by common utility, and justified by universal practice, are viewed by its members without shame or horror; and reformation never proceeds from themselves, but is always forced upon them by some foreign hand.
By giving yourself the gift of reading these masterpieces, you will not only sharpen your mind but also discover a profound connection to the intellectual spirit of a bygone era. Robertson’s work, in particular, is a reminder that some of the greatest rewards are found in exploring those gems that have been unjustly forgotten.