ted! At every
moment I saw my happiness abridged by a page. I then experienced the
same sensations those feel who have long lived with one they love, and
are on the point of separation. At the close of the work I seemed to
remain deserted."

The impassioned Diderot then breaks forth:--"Oh, Richardson! thou
singular genius in my eyes! thou shalt form my reading in all times. If
forced by sharp necessity, my friend falls into indigence; if the
mediocrity of my fortune is not sufficient to bestow on my children the
necessary cares for their education, I will sell my books,--but thou
shalt remain! yes, thou shalt rest in the _same class_ with MOSES,
HOMER, EURIPIDES, and SOPHOCLES, to be read alternately.

"Oh Richardson, I dare pronounce that the most veritable history is full
of fictions, and thy romances are full of truths. History paints some
individuals; thou paintest the human species. History attributes to some
individuals what they have neither said nor done; all that thou
attributest to man he has said and done. History embraces but a portion
of duration, a point on the surface of the globe; thou hast embraced all
places and all times. The human heart, which has ever been and ever
shall be the same, is the model which thou copiest. If we were severely
to criticise the best historian, would he maintain his ground as thou?
In this point of view, I venture to say, that frequently history is a
miserable romance; and romance, as thou hast composed it, is a good
history. Painter of nature, thou never liest!

"I have never yet met with a person who shared my enthusiasm, that I was
not tempted to embrace, and to press him in my arms!

"Richardson is no more! His loss touches me, as if my brother was no
more. I bore him in my heart without having seen him, and knowing him
but by his works. He has not had all the reputation he merited.
Richardson! if living thy merit has been disputed; how great wilt thou
appear to our children's children, when we shall view thee at the
distance we now view Homer! Then who will dare to steal a line from thy
sublime works! Thou hast had more admirers amongst us than in thine own
country, and at this I rejoice!"

It is probable that to a Frenchman the _style_ of Richardson is not so
objectionable when translated, as to ourselves. I think myself that it
is very idiomatic and energetic; others have thought differently. The
misfortune of Richardson was, that he was unskilful in the art of
w