en, and coxcombs of
his men. Every thing is too conscious in his works. Every thing is
distinctly brought home to the mind of the actors in the scene, which is a
fault undoubtedly: but then it must be confessed, every thing is brought
home in its full force to the mind of the reader also; and we feel the
same interest in the story as if it were our own. Can anything be more
beautiful or more affecting than Pamela's reproaches to her "lumpish
heart," when she is sent away from her master's at her own request; its
lightness, when she is sent for back; the joy which the conviction of the
sincerity of his love diffuses in her heart, like the coming on of spring;
the artifice of the stuff gown; the meeting with Lady Davers after her
marriage; and the trial-scene with her husband? Who ever remained
insensible to the passion of Lady Clementina, except Sir Charles Grandison
himself, who was the object of it? Clarissa is, however, his masterpiece,
if we except Lovelace. If she is fine in herself, she is still finer in
his account of her. With that foil, her purity is dazzling indeed: and she
who could triumph by her virtue, and the force of her love, over the
regality of Lovelace's mind, his wit, his person, his accomplishments, and
his spirit, conquers all hearts. I should suppose that never sympathy more
deep or sincere was excited than by the heroine of Richardson's romance,
except by the calamities of real life. The links in this wonderful chain
of interest are not more finely wrought, than their whole weight is
overwhelming and irresistible. Who can forget the exquisite gradations of
her long dying-scene, or the closing of the coffin-lid, when Miss Howe
comes to take her last leave of her friend; or the heart-breaking
reflection that Clarissa makes on what was to have been her wedding-day?
Well does a certain writer exclaim--

"Books are a real world, both pure and good,
Round which, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,
Our pastime and our happiness may grow!"

Richardson's wit was unlike that of any other writer--his humour was so
too. Both were the effect of intense activity of mind--laboured, and yet
completely effectual. I might refer to Lovelace's reception and
description of Hickman, when he calls out Death in his ear, as the name of
the person with whom Clarissa had fallen in love; and to the scene at the
glove-shop. What can be more magnificent than his enumeration of his
companions--"Belton, so pert an