were eagerly sought in every part of Europe, and no medical library was thought complete without them; and their importance contributed greatly to the spread of the French tongue, the smoothness and beauty of which soon made it the favorite language of Great Britain and the continent. But during the reign of Louis the Fourteenth, a complete retrogression occurred; and it was not till the middle of the eighteenth century that medical science recovered its proper position in France.

Botany, without a knowledge of which medical science is necessarily imperfect, was even more neglected than the pure mathematics. The invention of the microscope about the year 1620 had given a new impulse to botanical researches, and those who engaged in them no longer confined their observations to general appearances and outlines, but examined the internal structure of plants, and studied their laws of growth and life. Of course, years were required after that delicate instrument was first invented, to bring it to a state of perfection that would render it useful; and years more to generalize the results of the first observations, which were necessarily crude and disconnected; but soon after the middle of the seventeenth century, important discoveries were made, and the consequent deductions soon revolutionized the whole science, or rather gave that the dignity of a science, which before was none. The trachea were discovered by Henshaw in 1661; Hooker announced the existence of the cellular tissue in 1667; and Mullington the distinction of sexes in 1676. Numerous other botanists of distinction followed up these additions to the science, with others equally important, so that subsequent generalization was rendered easy and rapid.

But none of these discoveries were made in France; nor was their existence known in that country till long afterward. No Frenchman, during that period wrote any work worthy of perusal on that subject, and it was almost wholly neglected in the schools. The son of Sir Thomas Browne, having studied the science under the best English masters, visited Paris in the latter part of the seventeenth century, with a view of increasing his stock of knowledge, but found such a lamentable deficiency among the savans and professors of that city, that he soon afterward returned home in disgust. In a letter to his father, he says that, 'The lecture of plants here (Paris) is only the naming of them, their degrees of heat and cold, and sometimes their use in physic; scarce a word more than may be seen in every herball;' and there is no reason to suspect that this picture was too deeply drawn. The distinction of sexes was universally rejected as absurd, and it was not till the first quarter of the eighteenth century had expired that it was admitted by the schools of Paris.

The experiments of Ray and others in chemistry, and the observations of Belon in Zoology, made during the administrations of Richelieu and Mazarin, were all forgotten during the reign of Louis the Fourteenth; to use an expression of the celebrated Cuvier in his 'Progres des Sciences,' they were 'sunk into an oblivion the most profound;' and with reference to the discoveries of Boyle, the same author declares they were unknown in France till forty years after they had been published in England.

During this remarkable scientific dearth in France, in Great Britain dis

coveries succeeded each other in quick succession, and the spirit of investigation pervaded all classes of society; and that, too, when the government was unsettled, when radical changes in both civil and ecclesiastical polity were being introduced, when one sovereign was compelled to expiate, with his life, his own follies and those of his predecessor; and when a second was driven into exile, because he endeavored to crush the irrepressible desire for freedom and knowledge.

One branch of French literature still remains, upon which the effect of the policy of Louis was, if possible, greater than on any of those already mentioned. It is unnecessary to say that we refer to history. As it was the medium through which that monarch hoped to transmit his glories to posterity, it is not remarkable that he took especial care that, so far as depended on him, no monument of his weaknesses and follies should remain. The truth, consequently, was distasteful to him, and he carefully held out to every writer of history the alternative of wealth and luxury, or exile and penury according as they defended or exposed him. Thus doubly armed, he succeeded in completely crushing the facts, so far as published books were concerned; and future writers were compelled to search unpublished documents to discover his policy, and to learn the truth concerning the general desolation which was the legitimate consequence of his folly. Much was written about the grandeur of the court, the splendor of the royal equipage, the glory of French victories; but the universal blight that pervaded the land was studiously ignored.

Before the accession of Louis to the throne, France had produced a number of meritorious historians. Even in the Dark Ages, her chroniclers were among the most celebrated in Europe. Gregory of Tours, considering the age in which he lived, was a model. It is true that he wrote in the barbarous Latin of his day, and his dry narration of facts would hardly be perused with interest by the general reader of the nineteenth century; but he was far in advance of all his cotemporaries. The first history of France, in French, was written by Du Haillan in 1576; and when he had completed his labors, he gave vent to the most extravagant and ridiculous boasting of his achievement. His work, however, so far as it related to ancient Gaul, was but a collection of a mass of fables that had long been currently believed by the ignorant part of the people. The absurd legend that the French derived their name from Francus, who migrated from Asia after the siege of Troy, was adopted without question. With reference to that portion of his work which related to modern times, it did little else than describe the grandeur of the court, and expatiate upon the glory of the royal arms; but still it was a point gained; a book, a historical work, if we may confer upon it so dignified a title, had been written and published in the native tongue, and was accessible to the common people.

In 1597, Serres introduced dates into his work, something to which his predecessors had given little attention, but the importance of which will be readily admitted. In 1599, La Popelinier, in his 'History of Histories,' or historical criticisms, completely exploded the theory that the French were the descendants of Francus; and De Rubys, in 1614, proved that the term 'Frank' was derived from a word which expressed the privileges of the people. A number

of other authors, no less bold and able, contributed to the stock of historical literature during the first half of the seventeenth century; the last and greatest of whom was Mezerey, who published his first volume in 1643, and his last in 1651. Profiting by the innovations of his predecessors, he introduced into his work that system and order which has given such superior authority to the writings of modern historians. As might be conjectured, he threw off all respect for the marvellous, and subjected antiquity to the same scrutiny that he did passing events. But, in these things he had already been anticipated. His mind, however, was not that of a mere copyist; bold and original in his organization, he struck out a field of inquiry entirely unknown to his predecessors. He endeavored to write a history, not of France, but of the French. The acts of the sovereign, political movements, intrigues and cabals, received a fair share of attention; the victories of his countrymen were recorded with a commendable degree of patriotism and satisfaction, and battlescenes were vividly painted. But these things, which composed the burden of the works of his predecessors, were only regarded as of minor consideration. He examined manners and customs, described places, collected statistics, pointed out defects in administration, pursued cause to effect; in short, endeavored to furnish all the information in his power concerning the people, of whom, on every suitable occasion, he showed himself the champion. Although his statistics were necessarily too imperfect to be made the basis of extensive generalizations; yet, when taken in connection with those of a more recent date, they are exceedingly valuable. His work was a foundation upon which his successors might build and improve, as he had built and improved upon those who had lived before him.

But no sooner did Louis come into power, than the dignity of history was lowered from the standard to which it had been elevated. He was anxious to have biographers and historians, but was always careful that those who wrote should be attached to his house, his fortunes and his person. The reputation of Mezerey naturally attracted his attention, and he at once determined if possible to avail himself of it, to advance his purposes; and he accordingly settled a pension of four thousand francs upon him, on condition that he would write a popular abridgment of his great work. In 1668, therefore, he announced that his synopsis was ready for publication, and the public looked with anxiety for a history which would at once be reliable and within reach of the people. But some of his remarks were too independent to suit the ear of a royal member of the house of Bourbon, and he was requested to suppress them; but he refused, as might have been expected from a man of liberal education, and who received his impressions during an age of toleration. Having failed to effect his object by entreaty, Louis determined, if possible, to do so by threats; and by a royal order, one half of the author's pension was withheld; and when it was found that he was still intractable, he was deprived of the whole, and his book was suppressed. Abbé Primi, an Italian of considerable celebrity, was engaged by Louis to write a history of his reign, and in 1681 it was ready for publication; but the spirit of the writer was altogether too liberal to suit his patron, and refusing to deviate from the path he had marked out, the sale of his book was

prohibited, and its author confined in the Bastile. Racine and Boileau, poets though they were, declined to write a biography of Louis, notwithstanding handsome pensions were tendered them, in case they succeeded in pleasing him, but the example of Mezerey and Primi deterred them. Burnet, the English historian, received the most liberal offers to induce him to write a history, and 'take the side of the King;' but he refused, well knowing the servility that would be required.

It must not be supposed, however, that there were no historical works written during the period to which we allude. Bossuet lent the whole force of his genius to the composition of a 'Universal History; ' it was eloquent, as were all the productions of that author; every period was properly rounded, every sentence arranged with scrupulous taste, every word charmingly elegant; but its contents were of little value; there was nothing that was liberal, and when the whole was properly analyzed, it was found to consist of an elaborate defence of despotism, both in Church and State. Every bishop, priest, or monk, was a saint; and every king a vicegerent of DEITY. The people were only recognized as instruments in the hands of the ruling classes: serfs by every law, human and divine.

Beside the distinguished authors we have mentioned, there were numerous others, of less celebrity, but of equal bigotry and obsequiousness. Boulainvilliers, Maimbourg, Vertot, and Audiger, not to go farther into detail, whose works are valuable only so far as they illustrate the literature of an age of which they were once regarded as the ornaments. Their productions have disappeared from circulation, and can only be found among the dusty tomes of some of the libraries of the great European cities.

It may be asked, how so many false impressions have obtained credence among intelligent observers, students of the history of the age of Louis Fourteenth? But this is not at all strange; indeed the wonder would have been had it been otherwise. The press is no mean engine for the control of public opinion, even though wielded against the sympathies and rights of the people; and this fact was fully appreciated by Louis, and he carefully rendered it subservient to his own selfish ends. Every book, every pamphlet, every scrap thrown from the press, was carefully scrutinized, and that which did not flatter his vanity, was suppressed. Every act of a subordinate, if calculated to shed glory upon the kingdom, was published as the result of royal wisdom; while all the evidence of his follies and his criminalities, was carefully concealed, and only exhumed after ages had passed away.

A narrow-minded and selfish bigot, without even the imperfect education of monarchs of his day, he was incapable of appreciating a noble impulse or a liberal sentiment; yet he constituted himself a universal literary censor. The consequence was, that none would enter the field of authorship unless sufficiently spiritless to divest themselves of all independence and manhood, and accept the measure of royal pleasure, as the only standard of merit. The works of such were necessarily imbued with the servility of the author, as the spring never rises above its fountain. The fear of the punishment that accompanied the displeasure of the King, and the certainty of the rewards that were be

stowed upon those who flattered him, could not but make a deep impression on the national literature. And this literature, fashioned in the manner we have indicated, has for a long time succeeded in abusing the minds of men. But now that the secret records of the French archives have been thrown open, the wickedness of the 'Grand Monarque's reign is exhibited in all its glaring hideousness: and his literary pretensions will be judged by the productions of the authors upon whom he bestowed favors, rather than by the extravagant eulogiums they have published.

LEFT BEHIND.

BY HELEN WHITING.

MABEL HAWTHORNE is twenty-five years old, and neither married nor engaged. She will tell you, or any body, without reserve, this fact of her age; and if you ask her why she is still Mabel Hawthorne, and not Mrs. Mabel Blank - filling said blank with the last name you heard mentioned in connection with hers she will probably say with equal frankness: 'I am happier as

I am!'

It was only a few evenings ago, that she shone as queen of a circle of friends ; the centre and charm, omnipresent and radiant, as Mabel always is. A song had been sung, not an affair wherein the words were undistinguishable, and the accompaniment unbearable, but a delicate morceau of sad thought, set to melody; and when it was ended, and the silence broken by the buzz of conversation, she stood thinking.

'A penny for your thoughts!' said a voice near by.

'They are not worth it. I was only recalling the past; the closing words of that chorus fill me with an infinity of sad feeling, that I cannot express. Always, always, always!' and the sad cadence of the refrain, as she gave it, touched him deeply.

Hugh Worden was silent a moment, then said abruptly, 'Let me tell you something,' and passing to a quiet recess, they sat down.

Mabel is unlike most other women; she did not falter, nor tremble, nor avert her head, but simply looked into his earnest face, while he told her a love-story; wherein, without saying it, he was the hero - she the heroine.

He ended; she hummed lightly the burden of that old song,. still lingering in her heart, ‘Always, always, always!' and answered afterward, 'That is an old story, tell me something new.'

If Mabel was playing unconscious she did it well; but her quiet really arose from abstracted self-absorption, rather than emotion. But Hugh Worden did not think so, and beside he had gone too far to retreat honorably; so he plunged in medias res, by saying straightforwardly and explicitly: 'I love you!'