1826,], Fashionable Novels. 157 
every forthcoming novel, curiosity lost its stimulant, and taste turned 
away in weariness and exhaustion. It is admitted that the earlier works 
of this author were worthy of patronage ; they exhibited an acquaintance 
with life which, if it were limited to Scotland, was yet life, however repul- 
sive ; they had a display of knowledge, perhaps superficial and miscel- 
laneous, but still of considerable extent and singularity ; and their adap- 
tation of historic fact to feigned adventure was occasionally striking and 
effective ; but, for some years past, the power had departed from him: 
either the capacity of invention had been worn out, or the style had, by 
its inherent disabilities, broke down under him. A ‘historic novel” 
now is a name of burlesque ; no talent could restore it—no vigour could 
“pluck up its drowned honour by the locks ;’ but few attempts have 
been made, and those few have perished at once. The author of the 
Scotch novels may console himself by the consciousness that he has 
closed up one avenue to notoriety upon man ; he has finally and fully 
extinguished historical romance for an age. 
_, Another style now came forward. This has generally borne the name 
of the ‘knife and fork school.” The talent of its authors all ran in one 
way, and that way was the description of what was dined upon, at what- 
ever table they could get leave to approach. An author of this class was 
at once all fastidiousness and all vulgarity ; on hisentrance into his unfor- 
tunate entertainer’s house, his first object was to take note of the ser- 
vants’ livery, and set down in his volume the valuable result of his dis- 
covery as to its newness, make, and texture. An ill-made livery was 
not to escape this keen investigation, and the distinction between the ad- 
ditional arrangement for the day, and the regular establishment, was sure 
to be ascertained, and as sure to be written down in the forthcoming novel. 
Once seated at the dinner-table, the author was in his glory; the thick- 
ness of pie-crusts—the number of knives and forks—accurately distin- 
guishing all that bore only the look of silver from the reality ; the sub- 
stitution of wines; the bourgeois arrangement of the beer glasses, and 
the city pattern of the carpet, were the precious documents which were 
accurately registered for the rapture of the generation to come. This, 
too, perished, or is perishing; and, shortly, the world will be no more 
called to wonder at Mr. A.’s “ drinking porter with his cheese ;” or Mr. 
B.’s “* wearing a blue inside waistcoat, and asking twice for fish.” —Sic 
tranett gloria. 
‘Tremaine, a romance of gentlemanlike life, was among the death- 
blows to this style. The author of this novel still keeps his name con- 
cealed; but the difference between a real wish for concealment and a 
pretended one, is amply shown, if not in the complete secresy of this 
author’s name, yet in the absence of all those cunning attempts to set 
the world upon guessing, which characterized the Scotch novels. Tre- 
maine is evidently the work of a graceful and accomplished mind. Its 
views of general manners; its familiar dealing with the topics and cir-_ 
cumstances of opulent life ; its utter absence of all that labour to exhibit 
its knowledge of the polite world which displays the vulgar writer at 
the first glance; its delicate perceptions of the lovely, the picturesque, 
and the true, in both life and nature, place it foremost among the novels 
of our time. Its chief defect is in what the author, probably placed its 
strength ; it is crowded with long conversations on religion; not upon 
she principles of Christianity—for there all discussion must be valuable, 
and may, be made interesting—but upon the metaphysics of religion, a 
