n the eighteenth century were the courtier-bishop
and the humble obsequious chaplain. The typical Irishman of fiction,
with his mixture of recklessness and cunning, warm-hearted and
unveracious, is to be found, we think, in every one of Thackeray's
larger novels, except in _The Virginians_; the Scotsman is rare,
having been considerably used up by Walter Scott and his assiduous
imitators. We may notice (parenthetically) that our own day is
witnessing a marvellous revival of Highlanders and Lowlanders in
fiction, from Jacobite adventures to the pawky wit and humble
incidents of the kailyard.

In _The Newcomes_ we return regretfully to the novel of contemporary
society; wherewith disappears all the light haze of enchantment that
hangs over the revival of distant times, even though they lie no
further behind us than the eighteenth century. Such a change of scene
necessitates and completes the transition from the romantic to the
realistic; for how can a picture of our own environment, which any one
can verify, avoid being more or less photographic? In one sense
it is a continuation of the historic novel, which has only to put
off its archaic or literary costume to appear as a presentation of
social history brought up to date; the method of minute description,
the portrayal of manners, are the same, with the drawback that
the celebrities of the day must be kept off the stage. Any
eighteenth-century personage might figure, with effect, in _The
Virginians_, while Macaulay and Palmerston could hardly have been
sketched off, however briefly and good-naturedly, in _The Newcomes_.
In all essential respects the tone and treatment are unaltered in the
two stories; although the ironical spirit, restrained in the
historical novels by a sense of dramatic consistency, is again among
us having great wrath, as Thackeray surveys the aspect of the London
world around him. The character of Colonel Newcome, his distinguished
gallantry, his spotless honour, his simplicity and credulity, is
drawn with truth and tenderness; and some of the lesser folk are
admirable for their kindliness and unselfishness. But what a society
is this in which the Colonel is landed upon his return from India! He
calls, with his son, at his brother's house in Bryanston Square:

'"It's my father," said Clive to the "menial" who opened the door;
"my aunt will see Colonel Newcome."

'"Missis not at home," said the man. "Missis is gone in the
carr