and the King of England also took part | his readers assume a false superiority in in the election The conduct of neither statesmanship and in judgment over the of them was praiseworthy. The princes politician who had to decide upon the electors promised their votes in formal adoption of political measures, at a time treaties, swore to them, and broke their when the greatest sagacity was not suflioaths and treaties immediately after-cient to foresee all the consequences wards. At one time Charles, and at an- which were then veiled in the impenetraother time Francis, had the majority of ble mystery of the future. Those who votes promised to them. The Archbish- hold these opinions advise historians to op of Mentz sold his vote six times, every place themselves on a perfect level with time obtaining, or attempting to obtain, the kings and ministers whose actions a higher price for it. The scandalous they describe, waiving all the advantages proceedings of the electors at last roused they derive from the knowledge of posthe people. Citizens and peasants armed terior events. Mignet seems to have acted themselves. When the electors went to upon this advice. He carefully conceals Frankfort, Franz Sickingen, at the head from the reader, in every stage of his of more than 20,000 men, marched to its history, what is to happen the very next immediate neighborhood. The Diet was day. He speaks of every new tergiveropened on the 18th of June, and on the sation of an elector, of every vote lost or 28th of the same month, the princes elec- gained by either of the candidates, as tors, robed in their scarlet gowns, pro- though it could influence the result of the ceeded in great state to the church of election, until at the conclusion of his St. Bartholomew to elect the future Em- narrative he informs us, through the peror. The Archbishop of Mentz spoke Archbishop of Mentz, that the election first. He asked whether Francis, Charles, of Francis was impossible from the beor another German prince ought to be ginning. elected, and answered his own question by declaring that the King of France could not be elected, because the "Golden Bull" excluded all foreigners from the imperial throne. The election of one of the smaller princes of Germany, he added, would be attended with many inconveniences. Charles was therefore the only eligible candidate, and the Archbishop invited the other electors to give him their votes. Mignet says this harangue produced a great effect upon the electors. Although the Archbishop of Treves delivered a weak speech against Charles, declaring that a King of Spain was as much a foreigner as a King of France, all the seven electors soon came to an understanding, and Charles was unanimously elected. A modern statesman of eminence is said to have observed, that the method in which history is written is calculated to injure the memory of the statesmen of the past. The historian can, without any great difficulty, form his judgment whether a political measure of the past has been opportune or inopportune, since he knows, or can know, all the consequences of it which afterwards have come to light. He imparts his easily obtained knowledge to his reader. Thus the author as well as To We take exception against such a method of writing history. In a work of fiction, it is both legitimate and feasible not to betray the least notion of what will happen the next hour. It is legitimate because the principal object for which most works of fiction are composed is to entertain the reader. excite his curiosity is, therefore, perfectly allowable. It is feasible, because the reader of a novel or a poem does not know anything beforehand of the persons who are to be actors in the story. Even if the names are historical, the reader knows that the author of a novel or of a poem is not bound to adhere to historically established facts. His curiosity to know how the story will end, can, therefore, be kept alive by the reticence of the writer. The aim of the historian, on the contrary, is, or ought to be, to explain the character of men who have really existed, to render clearly intelligible facts which have really occurred. The reader of a good history may be entertained in reading it, but his entertainment springs only from the satisfaction he derives from obtaining, without great exertion, more accurate knowledge on a subject in which he is interested. As the principal object for which history is written is to impart exact information on eminently complicated subjects, it would be wrong to preclude the historian from bringing to bear upon them all his knowledge of what has happened before or afterwards, whenever it is likely that greater clearness will be obtained thereby. Besides, the readers of history, with the exception of the most ignorant, have already a general notion of the persons whom they meet in the narrative. There is probably not a single person who knew not that Charles and not Francis was elected Emperor before he opened the Rivalité de Charles Quint et François Ier, by Mignet. The curiosity of the reader, therefore, cannot be excited by carefully concealing the final result of the contest, until the proper moment for disclosing it has arrived. Thus Mignet gains nothing by the method he has adopted; while, on the other hand, he creates for himself great difficulties which he, in fact, always overcomes in respect to art, but which expose him to censure as to historical accuracy. We will give one example. In the month of February, 1519, Charles sent his Chamberlain Armerstorff to the Archbishop of Mentz, who had gone over to the French party. The Archbishop declared to the envoy, without blushing, that he had sold his vote to Francis, because Francis had offered him a higher price for it-adding, however, that he would sell it back to Charles, if Charles were the highest bidder. Armerstorff asked the Archbishop how much he asked for his vote. One hundred thousand florins in addition to what Charles had already promised. Such was the answer of the Archbishop. Armerstorff thought that the demand was exorbitant, and threatened to break off all negotiations. The Archbishop reduced then, successively, his demands to eighty thousand florins, to sixty thousand florins, to fifty thousand florins, and contented himself, at last, with twenty thousand florins, which were to be paid to him over and above the money he had already received, and the promise which had already been made to him. When the bargain was concluded, he opened a chest and showed to Armerstorff his correspondence with Francis and with the other princes elec tors. It was clear from these letters that the French had made him much higher offers, which, he said, he refused from patriotism as a German prince, and from love for the house of Hapsburg. As Mignet does not mention the Golden Bull until he speaks of the election ceremonies, and as the reader is not likely to remember all the clauses of the constitutional law of the German empire, the Archbishop of Mentz gets credit for being not quite so corrupted as at first he appeared. As he foregoes greater pecuniary advantages from considerations for the weal of his country, his roguery seems to be mitigated by some better feelings. Had, however, Mignet clucidated the behavior of the Archbishop of Mentz on this occasion by what the same Archbishop said and did a few months afterwards in the church of St. Bartholomew, in Frankfort, the reader would at once have seen that the Archbishop added only one piece more of hypocritical knavery to his long list of rogueries when he showed his letters to Armerstorff. He took credit for a disinterestedness which he did not possess. He knew that the Golden Bull excluded Francis from the imperial throne. He had not the least doubt, and could not have any doubt, that the Golden Bull was then the fundamental law of the empire. The election of Francis was therefore an impossibility, and all the promises made by the French on account of the election of the King of France were destined not to be fulfilled. As he had already obtained all the money Francis was able or willing to pay in advance, the prince elector sacrificed nothing that was worth having. For More serious is the difficulty which Mignet creates for himself with respect to a just appreciation of the conduct of the King of France. Francis was certainly a chivalrous prince, and chivalrous princes not seldom think that laws are made only to be read and explained by old judges in dingy law courts. young people, living in splendid palaces, they do not exist. It is, therefore, not to be wondered at that Francis did not occupy himself with the clauses of the Golden Bull, which, though called Golden because the original was preserved in a golden case, was a rather lengthy and dry statute, written in barbarous Latin. Mignet, placing himself on a perfect | fact, renounced all and every claim to be level with Francis, follows him through regarded as an independent nation. As all his election manoeuvres, apparently long as any degree of national feeling as unconcerned about the fatal clause as the chivalrous king himself. It is agreeable to be in gay company, and it is a kind of moral luxury to despise avaricious misers robed in purple gowns. But the company of money - dealers, whether they live in a back street, or are princes electors of the Holy Empire, is notoriously dangerous for young fast men. An old and experienced friend should warn them, and show them the evil consequences of improvidence. Mignet has permitted the best occasion to make use of his superior wisdom to slip away, not purposely, but in consequence of the plan he has adopted. He cannot show that Francis is a fool, because the folly is never visible until it is too late to mend it. Mignet, indeed, does not go so far as to let Francis I. off without a very sensible reprimand. He most judiciously observes that the King of France ought to have employed his influence with the electors, in order to carry the election of one of the smaller German princes. But such general remarks are of little weight, especially after the whole story has been told so charmingly and in so masterly a manner, that almost every word remains engraved on the mind of the reader. We do not grudge, however, that Francis I. is so leniently treated by his historian. As we find the chivalrous king, only a few years afterwards, a miserable prisoner in the Alcazar at Madrid, we do not think that his example is calculated to encourage other young princes to proceed in matters of state in a thoughtless, improvident manner. But what we complain of is that Mignet has not given us his opinion on those subjects which mostly interest us. There is no other alternative: either the princes electors, together with the whole German people, were utterly corrupted, or King Francis together with his statesmen, was utterly incapable of governing a great State. If Francis I. had any well-founded reason to believe that five corrupted princes electors were able to break the clearest law and to sell the empire to a foreigner, the German people must have abdicated its own nationality, and, in remained in the people, it could not have looked as an idle spectator on the greatest national disgrace. Such an utter decay of one of the greatest nations of Europe at a time when the Reformation was spreading from it over Europe would, if true, be one of the most important facts in the history of mankind. If, on the other hand, Germany had not then sunk to the lowest depth of national decay, the election of Francis was, from the very beginning, impossible, and he was simply swindled by the princes electors. The manner in which that was done was so gross, so transparently ludicrous, that it is difficult to decide whether the dishonesty of the princes electors, or the utter incapability of the French, was the more contemptible. The government of a great nation in the hands of so decidedly unable rulers, would, under any circumstances, have been a fact not to be overlooked by the historian. In this case, it would derive additional importance from the circumstance that Charles was at the same time preparing the plan of establishing his universal empire. king, at any time, was in duty bound to husband the resources of his kingdom, Francis had that obligation, threatened as he was with the danger of being reduced to the position of a mere vassal. Whichever side of the alternative may be the true one, we regret that Mignet has not entered upon this subject. If any The method " recommended by the modern statesman of eminence," to write history without injuring the memory of the politicians of the past, seems to us conducive to shirking the great questions in which we are more interested than in the fame of the politicians. We hope, therefore, Mignet, will soon return to the old system, and leave it to younger men to try their ability in devising innovations. His opinion carries too great weight. We lose too much if he withholds it from us on questions of vital importance. There occur some minor inaccuracies in the first portion of the Rivalité de Charles Quint et de François Ier, which it will suffice shortly to mention. Mignet for instance, states that almost the whole of Europe had formed a conspiracy to the list-namely, that of the popular against Francis when he gained the bat- novelist. It is perhaps scarcely necessary tle of Marignan. The fact is, that Francis to say that we refer exclusively to novwas at that time the ally of England, of elists who, by profound reflection or a Charles, and of Venice. King Ferdinand quick natural insight into character and the Catholic and the Emperor Maximil- life, have arrived at something like conian had concluded a truce with him, and sistent and manageable theories of the Pope Leo X. was carrying on negotia- social conditions which surround them, tions of peace. The "l'Europe presque and not to novelists whose chief claim to entièrement conjurée contre lui" consisted popularity is the skill with which they in nothing more than the Duke of Milan, can keep the reader, for so many hundred who had taken a strong body of Swiss pages, in suspense as to whether the mercenaries into his pay. The battle charming heroine has really murdered was fought by French troops and Ger- her first husband, or what may be her man lansquenets on the one side, and exact relationship to the mysterious orSwiss mercenaries on the other. But phan. Novels which depend for their such errors are unimportant, as they do success upon ingenuity of this kind may not, strictly speaking, belong to the his- be classed with clever conjuring tricks, tory. They are only made use of as fearful ascents up spiral staircases, treadornment, which, by the way, is em-mendous headers into unseen featherployed with a sparing hand. Here we must break off. The first portion of the Rivalité de Charles Quint et de François Ier would be nearly perfect, if Mignet had not committed the fundamental error of referring the origin of the struggles between Charles and Francis to personal and casual influences. The further this history proceeds the more it will suffer from the narrowness of the foundation upon which it is built. This fault, which is excusable, perhaps inevitable, in the present state of imperfect historical information, has been voluntarily increased by our author's adoption of a method of narrating his history which gives him full scope for his high artistic qualification, but which eliminates from his book precisely those questions which are of paramount in They beds, or any other feats whose sole But a novelist who has clear and definite views upon the social or other prob lems of contemporary life may, it appears to us, exercise in these days a scarcely less direct, though obviously a less immediate influence upon his age than either of the two classes formerly singled out by Mr. Mill. Indeed, he owes his influence, in some measure, to the very cause which apparently induced Mr. Mill to make this limitation—namely, to the fact that, from the countless multitude of books yearly issuing from the press, it is generally considered necessary to have a superficial acquaintance with so many authors that it becomes impossible thoroughly to master the doctrines of any one. Even the best books are, as a rule, "bolted"— rarely, after Bacon's advice, "chewed;" and there is, accordingly, no process of intellectual digestion sufficient to leave a permanent effect upon the mind. The effect is scarcely more durable than that made by one forcible article in a daily newspaper, or one telling speech in Parliament; and, inasmuch as articles and important questions of the day. A really first-rate novel is read, sooner or later, by almost every one with any pretensions to education, while there are thousands of educated people who only occasionally interest themselves in a newspaper article or a political speech. The great majority of women, while they make it a point of honor to read the first, rarely trouble themselves about the last two, and the share which women contribute to the formation of public opinion on all really fundamental questions is far greater than it appears. - But it is indirectly in subtle and permanent impressions upon the whole character, not in the direct formation of this or that special opinion-that the influence of a novelist of high order is most powerfully exercised upon his age. It is astonishing how little Englishmen as a rule appreciate the tendency of the novel to develop imagination, or rather how little importance they attach to the speeches innumerable may be given in succession to the public in the time that it takes to mature and produce one thoughtful book, the author has no chance whatever against the journalist or the politician. This complaint of Mr. Mill's may be applicable to books written solely for instruction, especially if they rise beyond the level of the ordinary popular point of view. Books of this class may as well be left unread altogether as bolted -for any permanent salutary effect they can produce upon the mind. Indeed, they are better left unread, since a too hasty perusal will not merely leave the reader as ignorant as it found him, which would involve nothing worse than loss of time, but will expose him to what Plato pronounced the most dangerous of all forms of ignorance- the ignorance of one's ignorance. But Mr. Mill's theory does not appear to us to be applicable to the novel, since, unlike a didactic work, it may be bolted, and yet leave upon the mind a perfectly clear and lasting impres-cultivation of this faculty. Nine fathers sion of the doctrine it is intended to convey. The reasons of this are obvious. The doctrine is not clothed in abstract conceptions which, to be fully and clearly comprehended, require thoughtful reflection, but in concrete instances which come home at once to the feeblest comprehension. It may, moreover, be spread over a long and varied series of incidents, each more or less remotely illustrative of it, and this with a diffuseness and amplification which would be utterly inadmissible in a philosophical treatise. To borrow Archbishop Whately's simile, just as food must have bulk as well as nutriment, the stomach requiring a "certain degree of distention" to enable it to act properly, so do the generality of minds assimilate knowledge far more readily and perfectly if it is spread for them over a tolerably large surface, than if it is concentrated, no matter how clearly and forcibly, in small compass. And although, as we have already observed, the novelist must exercise a less immediate influence than the journalist or the politician, he has, on the other hand, this advantage over them, if he be a popular writer of the first class, that he addresses a far larger audience among that educated portion of the community who do most to create public opinion on NEW SERIES-VOL. V., No. 1. out of ten, for instance, would far rather see their children absorbed in scientific experiments with the microscope, or puzzling their brains over tough botanical names, than poring over one of Scott's novels. In some families the last amusement is strictly interdicted, and in nearly all it is rather tolerated than encouraged, as an inevitable concession to the great truth that boys will be boys. Even this amiable concession is confined to the wellto-do classes; and works of fiction are regarded, like indigestible sweetmeats and heavy puddings, as unwholesome luxuries only to be adventured upon by the rich. Few teachers would have courage enough to countenance the startling heresy that the child of a poor man is not grievously wasting his time if he devotes to works of imagination hours that might be occupied in acquiring a knowledge of chemistry or mechanics. It may be sound enough, as an educational theory, that the development of the imaginative faculty should precede that of the faculties which natural science is best adapted to train. But then this theory assumes that imagination has uses which makes its development worth aiming at; and the ordinary notion of the so-called practical mind, the commonest type of the English mind, is that |