time; nor would
it at all follow that those who had read and admired the original work
would have an opportunity of consulting the volume that contained its
refutation. This happy state of things came to an end after the year 1655.
Since the invention of printing, no more important event had happened in
the republic of letters than the introduction of a periodical literature.
It was a complete revolution, differing from other revolutions only by the
quickness with which the new power was recognized even by its fiercest
opponents.

The power of journalism, however, soon found its proper level, and the
history of its rise and progress, which has still to be written, teaches
the same lesson as the history of political powers. Journals which
defended private interests, or the interests of parties, whether
religious, political, or literary, never gained that influence which was
freely conceded to those who were willing to serve the public at large in
pointing out real merit wherever it could be found, and in unmasking
pretenders, to whatever rank they might belong. The once all-powerful
organ of the Jesuits, the "Journal de Trevoux," has long ceased to exist,
and even to be remembered; the "Journal des Savants" still holds, after
more than two hundred years, that eminent position which was claimed for
it by its founder, as the independent advocate of justice and truth.

1866.

IX. CHASOT.(33)

History is generally written _en face_. It reminds us occasionally of
certain royal family pictures, where the centre is occupied by the king
and queen, while their children are ranged on each side like organ-pipes,
and the courtiers and ministers are grouped behind, according to their
respective ranks. All the figures seem to stare at some imaginary
spectator, who would require at least a hundred eyes to take in the whole
of the assemblage. This place of the imaginary spectator falls generally
to the lot of the historian, and of those who read great historical works;
and perhaps this is inevitable. But it is refreshing for once to change
this unsatisfactory position, and, instead of always looking straight in
the faces of kings, and queens, and generals, and ministers, to catch, by
a side-glance, a view of the times, as they appeared to men occupying a
less central and less abstract position than that of the general
historian. If we look at the Palace of Versailles from the terrace in
front of the edifice, we are impress