cal behaviour. Such interpolations are
artistically incorrect, and out of harmony with the proper conception
of a well-wrought work of fiction, in which the moral should be
conveyed through the action and the dialogue, and the meditations
should be left to be done by the reader himself.

We must, therefore, place _The Virginians_ below _Esmond_ in the order
of merit. Nevertheless, these two novels, with _Barry Lyndon_, are
most important and valuable contributions to the English historical
series. Nothing like them had been written before, and nothing equal
has been written after them, with the single exception of _John
Inglesant_. They possess one essential quality that ought to
distinguish all fiction founded on the history of bygone times--they
are, so far as posterity can judge at all, faithful and effective
representations of manners. Now, the inferior practitioner in this
particular school, being prevented by indolence or incapacity from
mastering his period and acquiring insight into its ways of thought
and living, is too often content to cover up his deficiencies by
indenting freely on the theatrical wardrobe and armoury. He deals
largely in the costumes of the day; he supplies himself plentifully
with old-fashioned phrases; he is fond of old furniture; he is
strongest, in fact, upon the external and decorative aspect of the
society to which he introduces us. Most of the romances written in
imitation of Scott had this tendency; and this same feebleness
underlies the superfluous minuteness of detail that may be observed in
the decadent realists of the present day. Nothing of this sort can be
alleged against Thackeray, who works from inward outwardly in his
creations of character, and whose personages are truly historical in
the sense that they move and speak naturally according to the ideas
and circumstances of their age, the dialect and dress being merely
added as appropriate colouring. It is, indeed, a peculiarity of
Thackeray's novels, which distinguishes him alike from the romancer
and the modern naturalist that they contain hardly any description,
that he is never professedly picturesque, that he relies entirely on
passing strokes and effective details given by the way. In Scott we
have superb descriptive pieces of scenery, of storms, of the interiors
of a castle or a Gothic cathedral; and some of the best living
novelists are much given to elaborate landscape painting. But we doubt
whether half a page of d