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A SUDDEN REPUTATION.

fulness of imagination which the decent and well-to do printer concealed beneath his impassible exterior. He himself was wholly unsuspicious of his own powers. And But for an accident, English literature might never have been enriched with its master-pieces of domestic fiction.

Two London printers were desirous of producing a work, written in the epistolary form, for the use of servants, and intended to promote the cultivation of morality. They induced Richardson to undertake its preparation. On this hint he wrote; and as he wrote he grew conscious of his own capacity. He laid aside the edifying letters for chambermaids and housemaids which he had begun, and giving himself up to the composition of a romantic narrative, produced his first great novel, which appeared in 1741. It was entitled: “ Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded. In a series of Letters from a beautiful young Damsel to her Parents. Now first published in order to cultivate the principles of Virtue and Religion in the minds of the youths of both sexes-a narrative that has its foundation in Truth and Nature; and, at the same time that it agreeably entertains by a variety of various and affecting incidents, is entirely divested of all those images which, in too many pieces, calculated for amusement only, tend to injure the minds they should instruct."

Divines eulogised it from

"Pamela" took the reading world by storm. the pulpit. In every family it was adopted as a household book. It was read in Mayfair and in Bloomsbury. Fashionable ladies turned to it with as much eagerness as the wives and daughters of honest citizens. As they swept gaily along in the gay avenues of Ranelagh, or the promenade of the Mall, they exhibited the volumes to each other, as a proof of their good taste and high breeding. They entered into a prolonged correspondence with the author, and were solicitous to know if the incidents of the story were true or feigned. Much of this world-wide fame was due to the supposed decorous tone of the book, though now-a-days we should regard very suspiciously the morality of a narrative, all whose interest turned on a master's attempted seduction of a beautiful servant girl, and her marriage to the man who had attempted her ruin! The less we say of the "moral tone" of this. or of any of Richardson's novels, the better. His morality is the morality of his age; and is superficial, insincere, and commonplace. Let us do justice to his analysis of character and his command over the springs of emotion; to his faculty of invention, and his almost tragical

APPEARANCE OF “CLARISSA HARLOWE."

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pathos; but let us own that as a moral teacher, the standard he crects is singularly low, and the examples he puts before us eminently artificial.

The false morality of "Pamela" was evident enough to the quick eye of a greater genius than Richardson, and Fielding ridiculed it in his "Joseph Andrews," a handsome young footman pursued by a rich lady of "easy virtue,"-with inimitable wit and unequalled vigour.

In 1762 Richardson published a series of "Letters from a beautiful young. Damsel to her Parents, and afterwards, in her exalted condition, between her and persons of figure and quality, upon the most important and entertaining subjects in genteel life." They are very dreary; and one wonders that the author of "Pamela" could descend to such platitudes, or that men and women could be found to accept them as precious truths.

Richardson continued to prosper in life. He had his town house in Salisbury Square, and his country villa at Parson's Green. He was entrusted with the lucrative commission of printing the Journals of the House of Commons. In 1754, he was appointed to the Mastership of the Stationers' Company. In 1760, he purchased one half of the patent of law printer to the crown.

His second great novel, perhaps his greatest, was the "History of Clarissa Harlowe," published in 1768-9. During the interval between the appearance of the first four and the last four volumes, the curiosity of the public was incredibly excited, and the author was overwhelmed with letters and inquiries, suggestions and arguments, entreaties and remonstrances, relative to the fortunes of his various creations. The good man was delighted with this correspondence, and with the interest which the ladies exhibited in him and his works. He purred complacently, as each fresh shower of praise and flattery descended upon him. He loved to be the hero of a feminine circle of admirers, and, in truth, his genius had a feminine side to it, which male readers have never been able to appreciate. There was something feminine in the extraordinary knowledge he undoubtedly possessed of the human heart; women are better and keener judges of character than men. We could name several female novelists who might have written "Pamela" and "Clarissa"; but we know of no other man than Richardson who could have done so.

His last important work was "Sir Charles Grandison," published in 1753.

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FEATURES OF RICHARDSON'S GENIUS.

In some respects it is his most perfect, and the character of the hero, conceived with remarkable truth and vigour, is developed with infinite delicacy and consummate skill. The plot is well constructed; the scenes are worked up with a power that is almost dramatic; and the female personages of the story are sketched in a very vigorous and lively manner. Yet the work is not one to commend itself to the admiration of the present age. As a judicious critic has remarked, "the solemnity and moral discourses of Sir Charles, his vows, his minuets, compliments, and immovable tranquillity, are much more likely to excite the derision than the admiration of a modern reader."

After several years of physical suffering, arising from a disease of the nervous system, Richardson died of apoplexy on the 4th of July 1761, at the age of 72.

It is unnecessary in these pages to insist on the peculiar features of his genius which are now recognized by the critics with tolerable unanimity. All are agreed that his insight into character was extraordinary, as his command over the pathetic was almost unequalled. He possessed a remarkable power of enchaining the interest and exciting the curiosity of the reader, so that if you once begin either of his masterpieces, you are forced to continue your perusal to the very end, however much you may resent the platitudes profusely strewn over its pages, or the improbability of the incidents, or the low tone of thought and moral feeling which it displays. Prolix as is "Clarissa Harlowe," you are unwilling to part with a single page, and therefore, the abridgment recently published by Mr Dallas, though so skilfully executed, offends you as a mere caricature of the original. In all this long series of letters, there is not one that can safely be spared, and scarcely one, let us confess, that does not contain some fine stroke of character, some happy trait of genius.

Was there ever a greater contrast between an author and his works than in the case of Samuel Richardson? Think of that pompous, pretentious, and well-to-do printer, the very incarnation of sleek respectability, the model of a decent London citizen, concealing under his proprieties the pathos and passion and tragical depth of feeling which, in spite of so many glaring defects, have secured the immortal fame of "Clarissa"! Think of this idol of old maids and worthy matrons, giving to the world as a precious heritage the undying character of "Lovelace," in itself a

RICHARDSON'S PLATITUDES.

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triumph of genius, and a portrait never to be blotted out of our English gallery of Fiction.

The strength of Richardson as a novelist lies in his characters, his weakness in his reflective passages and moral sentiments. Few writers have touched the chords of passion with a more masterly skill, and few have displayed a more signal barrenness of thought and judgment. We owe to him none of those bright and beautiful sayings, or concise reflections, or picturesque images, which become familiar as household words in the mouths of men. It is impossible to conceive of a drearier collection than the "Beauties of Samuel Richardson"! At the close of the seventh volume of " Clarissa," in the edition of 1751, is given "a treasury of such of the moral and instructive sentiments, contained in the preceding history, as are presumed to be of general use and service. Digested under proper heads." From this precious store-house we borrow a few choice specimens of Richardson as a thinker.

Adversity is the state of trial of every good quality." "No one is out of the reach of misfortune.

glory in his prosperity."

No one, therefore, should

"People in affliction or distress cannot be hated by generous minds." "A man who means honourably will not be fond of treading in crooked paths."

"One concession to a man is but a prelude to another."

"The certainty even of what we fear, is often more tolerable than the suspense."

Personal advantages are oftener snares than benefits."

"A lovely woman, whether angry or pleased, will appear lovely."

"The power of conferring benefits is a godlike power."

"A good clergyman must love and venerate the gospel he teaches, and

prefer it to all other learning."

"We are all very ready to believe what we like."

"What is death, but a cessation from mortal life!"

"The seeds of death are sown in us when we begin to live, and grow up

till, like rampant weeds, they choke the tender flower of life."

"A weeping eye indicates a gentle heart."

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Marriage is a state that ought not to be entered into with indifference on either side."

E

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HIS MERITS AS A NOVELIST.

Many servants will scorn to deceive a confidence."

"A good person will not palliate with a view to deceive."

"By frugality we are enabled to be both just and generous."

And so on for sixty-eight closely printed pages of copybook moralities, which assuredly no Richardson was needed to impress upon the minds of

men.

Yet as a whole, the genius of the author of "Clarissa" remains untouched by hostile criticism, and the following estimate of it, from Professor Masson's "British Novelists and their Styles," will be accepted by most impartial judges:

We do not read Richardson's novels much now; and it cannot be helped that we do not. There are the novels of a hundred years, says Masson, between us and him; time is short, and novels of eight or ten volumes, written in the tedious form of letters, and recording conversations and meditations, in which the story creeps on inch by inch without so much as an unexpected pistol-shot or a trick of harlequin and pantaloon to relieve the attention, have little chance against the brisker and broader fictions to which we have been accustomed. We have to remember, however, not only that a hundred years ago, Richardson's novels were read everywhere, both in Britain and on the Continent, with a protracted sense of fascination, a leisurely intensity of interest, such as no British author of prose stories had ever commanded before; but also that almost every thoughtful critic who has read Richardson since has spoken of him as, all in all, one of the masters of our Literature. Johnson would not allow Fielding to be put in comparison with Richardson; and whenever Lord Macaulay names Richardson, it is as a kind of prose Shakespeare.

When we read Richardson for ourselves, we can see the reasons which have led to so high an opinion. His style of prose fiction is perhaps more original than that of any other novelist we have had. To Richardson may be assigned the deliberate invention of a new form of literary art, "a new species of writing." In this respect it was in his favour that he knew no other tongue than his own, that even in English Literature his reading had been select rather than extensive, and that his life had been that of a grave, shrewd, and rather retiring citizen, not sophisticated in his literary taste by second hand notions of literary method, picked up at clubs of wits, or amid the effects and clap-traps of theatres. Towards the end of his life,

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