Manzoni, Perez Galdos, Merejkowski, Topelius,
Sienkiewicz, and Jokai are, perhaps, the chief amongst those
representing Literatures other than our own.

"The Last Days of Pompeii," "The Gladiators," "Hypatia," "Harold,"
"Ivanhoe," "The Talisman," "Maid Marian," "The Last of the Barons,"
"Quentin Durward," "Romola," "The Cloister and the Hearth," "The
Palace of the King," "Westward Ho!", "Kenilworth," "The Chaplet of
Pearls," "A Gentleman of France," "John Inglesant," "The Three
Musketeers," "Twenty Years After," "Woodstock," "Peveril of the
Peak," "Old Mortality," " The Betrothed Lovers" ("I Promessi
Sposi"), "Lorna Doone," "The Refugees," "In the Golden Days," "The
Courtship of Morice Buckler," "Dorothy Forster," "The Men of the
Moss Hags," "Esmond," "The Virginians," "Heart of Midlothian,"
"Waverley," "The Master of Ballantrae," "Kidnapped," "Catriona,"
"The Chaplain of the Fleet," "The Seats of the Mighty," "Barnaby
Rudge," "A Tale of Two Cities," "War and Peace"—what visions do
these mere titles arouse within many of us! And, though most of
the books given in my list cannot be described in the same glowing
terms as the masterpieces just named, yet many "nests of pleasant
thoughts" may be formed through their companionship.

Hitherto allusion has been mainly in the direction of modern authors, and I would now say a word or two in regard to those of an earlier period who are also represented. Defoe, Fielding, Richardson, Goldsmith, Smollett, Frances Burney, Samuel Lover, John Galt, Maria Edgeworth, Susan Ferrier, William Godwin, Mary Shelley, Fennimore Cooper, J. G. Lockhart, Leigh Hunt, Thos. Moore, Harriet Martineau, J. L. Motley, Horace Smith, Charles Lever, Meadows Taylor, and Wm. Carleton,—these (in greater or less degree) notable names were bound to have a place; and, coming to less distinguished writers, I may mention the brothers Banim, Gerald Griffin, Mrs. S. C. Hall, Lady Morgan, the sisters Porter, W. G. Simms, George Croly, Albert Smith, G. R. Gleig, W. H. Maxwell, Sir Arthur Helps, Eliot Warburton, Lewis Wingfield, Thomas Miller, C. Macfarlane, Grace Aguilar, Anne Manning, and Emma Robinson (author of "Whitefriars"). To G. P. R. James, Harrison Ainsworth, and James Grant I have previously alluded. It has been my endeavour to choose the best examples of all the above-named novelists—a task rendered specially difficult in some cases by the fact of immense literary output. Doubtless not a few of the works so chosen are open to criticism, but they will at least serve to illustrate certain stages in the growth of Historical Romance. With the exclusion of Mrs. Radcliffe, Mrs. Marsh, Mrs. Gore, Lady Blessington, Lady Fullerton, Mrs. Bray, and Mrs. Child, few will, I imagine, find fault; but writers like Miss Tucker (A. L. O. E.) and Miss Emily Holt still find so many readers in juvenile quarters, that it has required a certain amount of courage to place them also on my Index Expurgatorius! Turning once again to writers of the sterner sex, I have ruled out C. R. Maturin, G. W. M. Reynolds, and Pierce Egan, Junr.; and (quitting the "sensational" for the "mildly entertaining") out of the Rev. J. M. Neale's many historical tales I have selected only one—"Theodora Phranza," which, besides being well written, has the merit of dealing with a somewhat neglected period. Stories possessing a background of History are to be found in "Tales from Blackwood," as also in "Wilson's Tales of the Borders," but their extremely slight character seemed scarcely to justify insertion; while not even the high literary position attained by him on other grounds reconciled me to either of Allan Cunningham's novels—"Sir Michael Scott" and "Paul Jones."

Of the Foreign novelists appearing in my list, several have been already named, but Marchese D'Azeglio, F. D. Guerrazzi, Cesare Cantu, "W. Alexis" (G. Haring), H. Laube, Louise Mulbach (Klara M. Mundt), Nicolas Josika, Viktor Rydberg, Hendrik Conscience, Xavier B. Saintine, Amedee Achard, and "Erckmann-Chatrian" here call for notice as not coming under strictly Contemporary classification. I would forestall the criticism that two writers have been passed over whose fame is greater than any of those just mentioned, viz.: "Stendhal" (Henri Beyle) and Alphonse Daudet. Beyle's "La Chartreuse de Parme," though containing the oft-praised account of Waterloo, is far more Psychological than Historical; and Daudet's "Robert Helmont," while it depicts (under Diary form) certain aspects of the Franco-German War, has hardly any plot running through it. As the Waterloo and Franco-German War periods were amply illustrated in numerous other novels of more assured suitability, I had the less hesitation in deciding against the two works just named. In the selections from Foreign Historical Fiction nothing more has been attempted than to include the leading examples; most of these, it will be found, have been translated into English.

Before leaving the subject of older writers, it may be mentioned that not a few of the works chosen to represent them are, at the moment, out of print. To anyone objecting that something ought to have been done to indicate this in each separate case, I would urge that the "out of print" line can never be drawn with precision in view of constant reprints as well as of further extinctions.

Perhaps this introduction may be most fitly concluded by something in the nature of apology for Historical Romance itself. Not only has fault been found with the deficiencies of unskilled authors in that department, but the question has been asked by one or two critics of standing—What right has the Historical Novel to exist at all? More often than not, it is pointed out, the Romancist gives us a mass of inaccuracies, which, while they mislead the ignorant (i.e., the majority?), are an unpardonable offence to the historically-minded reader. Moreover, the writer of such Fiction, though he be a Thackeray or a Scott, cannot surmount barriers which are not merely hard to scale, but absolutely impassable. The spirit of a period is like the selfhood of a human being—something that cannot be handed on; try as we may, it is impossible for us to breathe the atmosphere of a bygone time, since all those thousand- and-one details which went to the building up of both individual and general experience, can never be reproduced. We consider (say) the Eighteenth Century from the purely Historical standpoint, and, while we do so, are under no delusion as to our limitations; we know that a few of the leading personages and events have been brought before us in a more or less disjointed fashion, and are perfectly aware that there is room for much discrepancy between the pictures so presented to us (be it with immense skill) and the actual facts as they took place in such and such a year. But, goes on the objector, in the case of a Historical Romance we allow ourselves to be hoodwinked, for, under the influence of a pseudo- historic security, we seem to watch the real sequence of events in so far as these affect the characters in whom we are interested. How we seem to live in those early years of the Eighteenth Century, as we follow Henry Esmond from point to point, and yet, in truth, we are breathing not the atmosphere of Addison and Steele, but the atmosphere created by the brilliant Nineteenth Century Novelist, partly out of his erudite conception of a former period, and partly out of the emotions and thoughts engendered by that very environment which was his own, and from which he could not escape!

Well, to all such criticisms it seems to me there are ample rejoinders. In the first place it must be remembered that History itself possesses interest for us more as the unfolding of certain moral and mental developments than as the mere enumeration of facts. Of course, I am aware that the ideal of the Historian is Truth utterly regardless of prejudice and