ghts and feelings of
the other parties; he merely describes his own, and gives his
conjectures as to those of the rest, just as a real autobiographer might
do; and thus an author is enabled to assimilate his fiction to reality,
without withholding that delineation of the inward workings of the human
heart, which is so much coveted. Nevertheless novels in the first person
have not succeeded so well as to make that mode of writing become very
general. It is objected to them, not without reason, that they want a
_hero_: the person intended to occupy that post being the narrator
himself, who of course cannot so describe his own conduct and character
as to make the reader thoroughly acquainted with him; though the attempt
frequently produces an offensive appearance of egotism.

The plan of a fictitious correspondence seems calculated in some measure
to combine the advantages of the other two; since, by allowing each
personage to be the speaker in turn, the feelings of each may be
described by himself, and his character and conduct by another. But
these novels are apt to become excessively tedious; since, to give the
letters the appearance of reality (without which the main object
proposed would be defeated), they must contain a very large proportion
of matter which has no bearing at all upon the story. There is also
generally a sort of awkward disjointed appearance in a novel which
proceeds entirely in letters, and holds together, as it were, by
continual splicing.

Miss Austin, though she has in a few places introduced letters with
great effect, has on the whole conducted her novels on the ordinary
plan, describing, without scruple, private conversations and
uncommunicated feelings: but she has not been forgetful of the important
maxim, so long ago illustrated by Homer, and afterwards enforced by
Aristotle,[1] of saying as little as possible in her own person, and
giving a dramatic air to the narrative, by introducing frequent
conversations; which she conducts with a regard to character hardly
exceeded even by Shakespeare himself. Like him, she shows as admirable a
discrimination in the characters of fools as of people of sense; a merit
which is far from common. To invent, indeed, a conversation full of
wisdom or of wit, requires that the writer should himself possess
ability; but the converse does not hold good: it is no fool that can
describe fools well; and many who have succeeded pretty well in painting
superior chara