(1) The society novel is devoted to a portrayal of existing men and manners. The field is a wide one. The characters may be taken from any class of society. The society novel may bring before us, as in Thackeray's "Vanity Fair," what is known as fashionable life. It may again, as in George Eliot's "Adam Bede" or Goldsmith's "Vicar of Wakefield," introduce us to the lives of plain people. It may acquaint us, as in Du Maurier's "Trilby," with the Bohemian or artist class in our great cities. It may deal, as in Dickens's "Oliver Twist" or Bulwer's "Paul Clifford," with the criminal class. In short, there is no class of society or type of character that may not become the subject of treatment in novels of this class.
(2) Local novels are devoted to the portrayal of the life and manners of a well-marked locality. They are social novels within a restricted field. Differences of race, of language, of pursuit, and of intelligence, as seen in particular localities, are reflected in novels of this kind. There is scarcely any portion of England that has not been described in some work of fiction. Charlotte Bronté brings Yorkshire scenery and character before us in "Shirley"; George Eliot portrays the scenes of her native Warwick in "The Mill on the Floss"; Blackmore's "Lorna Doone" portrays the scenery, life, and language of Devonshire.
America has afforded a very rich field for the local novel. Not a few of its choicest works belong to this class. Scarcely any part of our wide country or any special phase of its life has escaped the eyes of the enterprising story-teller. In his "Grandissimes," for example, George W. Cable gives us a glimpse of the Creole life of Louisiana. In the "Hoosier Schoolmaster" Edward Eggleston describes pioneer life in Indiana. In "Gabriel Conroy" Bret Harte brings before us the wild and lawless life of California a half century ago. In various works Miss Murfree has described the dwellers in the Tennessee mountains. New England and the South have been portrayed by various writers.
(3) The historical novel is devoted to the description of life in the past. It should be based on a careful study of the period to be portrayed. It may deal with the scenes of a hundred years ago or it may go back a thousand years before the Christian era.
No other department of fiction has a prouder array of great books. Historical fiction has gone hand in hand with a revived interest in historical and archæological research. The greatest of all historical novelists is Scott, whose Waverley series covers the centuries between the crusades, which "Ivanhoe" describes, and the rebellion of Prince Edward Charles in 1745, which "Waverley" describes. But other great names—German, English, American—belong to this class of fiction. "Uarda," for example, by George Ebers, describes life in Egypt a thousand years before Christ. Kingsley's "Hypatia" takes us back to the city of Alexandria in the fifth century of our era. In the "Last Days of Pompeii" Bulwer Lytton describes the life of the Roman city at the time of its destruction. George Eliot's "Romola" portrays the spirit and manners of the city of Florence in the days of Savonarola and the revival of learning. "Ben Hur" by Lew Wallace is a tale of the Christ. "The Schönberg-Cotta Family" by Mrs. Elizabeth Charles is a graphic portrayal of movements and scenes in Germany at the period of the Reformation.
Recently there has been a notable revival in historical fiction. It has come, perhaps, as a reaction against a hard realism and empty romanticism. It probably strikes its roots in the desire for knowledge which at the present time is so generally characteristic of the American people. Not a few of the recent books of phenomenal popularity—Churchill's "Richard Carvel," Miss Johnson's "To Have and to Hold," Ford's "Janice Meredith," Page's "Red Rock," Thompson's "Alice of Old Vincennes"—deal with interesting periods in the history of our country.
(4) The problem or purpose novel has been prominent in recent fiction. It has been a natural product of this restless, intellectual age. Fiction has been made the medium for the discussion of political, social, and religious problems. Not a few of them, as Bellamy's socialistic "Looking Backward," have had an enormous circulation. "Uncle Tom's Cabin" by Mrs. Stowe was a severe arraignment of slavery, and exerted a strong influence in molding the sentiment of a large part of our country. Recent theological unrest is reflected in Mrs. Ward's "Robert Elsmere" and in Margaret Deland's "John Ward, Preacher." The nature and influence of labor organizations are presented in Charles Reade's "Put Yourself in His Place," and in the anonymous American story "The Bread Winners." Hall Caine's "Christian" involves a serious indictment against the church in England. Disraeli traversed the field of English politics in his "Coningsby" and "Endymion," as did Trollope in his "Phineas Finn" and "Prime Minister." In his "Guardian Angel" and "Elsie Venner" Oliver Wendell Holmes traces the effects of heredity, a subject previously handled by Hawthorne in his "House of Seven Gables." In this way we see that nearly every great practical question of general interest may be discussed or portrayed in fiction.
(5) The love story and the story of adventure embrace a considerable though unambitious part of fiction. The love story deals with courtship and marriage. As a rule, after encountering more or less opposition or difficulty, the lovers are at last happily united. A thread of love usually runs through all the more ambitious types of fiction, for it is a source of universal interest that cannot lightly be set aside; but in the love story it is the central and dominant interest.
The story of adventure consists of a succession of interesting or thrilling incidents. The type of this species of fiction is Defoe's "Robinson Crusoe." The new romantic movement already referred to lays much stress on a rapid succession of exciting incidents. This is illustrated by Hope's "Prisoner of Zenda" or by most of R. L. Stevenson's works, of which "Kidnapped" and "The Master of Ballantrae" may be taken as fair examples.
(6) Naval fiction belongs to the sea. It is an interesting field, though somewhat limited in its range of character and incident. The sea itself, with its magnificent and changing moods, is a sublime object. The restricted life on shipboard—the telling of yarns beneath the starlit skies, the spirit of mingled superstition and daring, the prompt and brave activities attending a storm, and, above all, the excitement and dangers of battle—has for the landsman a peculiar charm.