Arthur Thomas Malkin’s second volume of Historical Parallels (1846) pairs ancient Greek conflicts with medieval and early modern counterparts, using the structure of parallel narratives to test how similar circumstances produce different outcomes. The volume opens with Marathon set beside the Battle of Tours and the Swiss victories at Morgarten and Sempach, then moves through Thermopylae, Salamis, and the later fates of Miltiades, Aristides, and Themistocles. Malkin’s method is comparative but not merely illustrative: he repeatedly questions the reliability of received accounts, noting, for instance, that “the silence of Herodotus alone would be sufficient to discredit” a popular story about Miltiades’ imprisonment. This skeptical edge, combined with a brisk, argumentative prose, makes the volume as much a commentary on historical evidence as a narrative of events.

A Skeptical Eye on Heroic Stories

Malkin does not simply retell famous episodes; he weighs the credibility of the sources. When discussing Miltiades’ prosecution after Paros, he dismisses the “ornamental passages in Grecian history” and points out that Herodotus’ silence undermines a dramatic tale of imprisonment. He then offers an alternative inference from Plato, suggesting the sentence may not have been carried out. This critical habit extends to the Athenian reaction: Malkin suspects that “if Miltiades had returned with one hundred talents, he would have heard nothing of prosecution,” and that the failure, not the attack on Paros, was the true grievance. Such remarks reveal a historian alert to political motives and popular inconsistency, and they give the volume a forensic quality unusual in a popular work of the 1840s.

Character as a Driver of Historical Change

The volume’s treatment of Aristides and Themistocles shows Malkin’s interest in personality as a force in politics. He presents them as “diametrically opposite as well in character as in politics”: Aristides is “simple, just, and disinterested,” while Themistocles is “crooked as acute in his policy,” willing to use any means to advance himself. Yet Malkin avoids simple moralizing; he notes that Themistocles could “lay aside private enmity when an emergency required it,” proposing the recall of Aristides before Salamis. This nuanced portrait suggests that Malkin sees effective leadership as a blend of principle and pragmatism, and he uses the parallel structure to highlight how different temperaments respond to similar crises.

Pace and the Art of the Parallel

The volume’s organization creates a distinctive rhythm. Each chapter pairs a Greek battle with one or more later conflicts, but the treatment is not uniform: the Marathon chapter, for instance, includes the Poema del Cid and the Siege of Vienna, while the Thermopylae chapter covers the Battle of St. Jacques and the destruction of the Sacred Band. This accumulation of examples can feel breathless, but Malkin often slows to examine a single figure or controversy in detail, as with the extended discussion of Miltiades’ trial. The effect is a constant shift between broad comparison and close analysis, a pace that rewards readers who attend to both the sweep of history and the texture of individual decisions.

Readers approaching this volume should expect a work that is as much about the writing of history as about the events themselves. Malkin’s willingness to challenge received stories and his sharp character sketches make the parallels feel less like set pieces and more like arguments. The volume benefits from being read alongside the first and third parts, but it stands on its own as a study of how leaders, armies, and chroniclers shape the past.