ple is made too palpably
prominent, many readers, if they do not throw aside the book with
disgust, are apt to fortify themselves with that respectful kind of
apathy with which they undergo a regular sermon, and prepare themselves
as they do to swallow a dose of medicine, endeavouring to _get it down_
in large gulps, without tasting it more than is necessary.

The moral lessons also of this lady's novels, though clearly and
impressively conveyed, are not offensively put forward, but spring
incidentally from the circumstances of the story; they are not forced
upon the reader, but he is left to collect them (though without any
difficulty) for himself: hers is that unpretending kind of instruction
which is furnished by real life; and certainly no author has ever
conformed more closely to real life, as well in the incidents, as in the
characters and descriptions. Her fables appear to us to be, in their own
way, nearly faultless; they do not consist (like those of some of the
writers who have attempted this kind of common-life novel writing) of a
string of unconnected events which have little or no bearing on one main
plot, and are introduced evidently for the sole purpose of bringing in
characters and conversations; but have all that compactness of plan and
unity of action which is generally produced by a sacrifice of
probability: yet they have little or nothing that is not probable; the
story proceeds without the aid of extraordinary accidents; the events
which take place are the necessary or natural consequences of what has
preceded; and yet (which is a very rare merit indeed) the final
catastrophe is scarcely ever clearly foreseen from the beginning, and
very often comes, upon the generality of readers at least, quite
unexpected. We know not whether Miss Austin ever had access to the
precepts of Aristotle; but there are few, if any, writers of fiction who
have illustrated them more successfully.

The vivid distinctness of description, the minute fidelity of detail,
and air of unstudied ease in the scenes represented, which are no less
necessary than probability of incident, to carry the reader's
imagination along with the story, and give fiction the perfect
appearance of reality, she possesses in a high degree; and the object is
accomplished without resorting to those deviations from the ordinary
plan of narrative in the third person, which have been patronized by
some eminent masters. We allude to the two other methods