author from the publication of this work, was occasioned by the ridicule of Fielding, who soon after its appearance published his " Joseph Andrews," an ingenious parody of Pamela, in which Joseph is represented as her brother, and Mr. B. is degraded into 'Squire Booby. The consequence of this attempt was an irreconcileable enmity between the two novellists, and a mutual disparagement of each other's productions. Fielding laughed at the verbiage and stiffness of Richardson, who, in return, treated the inimitable story of Tom Jones with pretended contempt, declaring that its run was over, and that it would soon be completely forgotten!

No two writers, indeed, could be more contrasted in their style and manner than were Richardson and Fielding; the first, grave, sententious, and diffusive; the second, vivacious, easy, and comparatively rapid; the former excelling in deep pathos, the latter in rich and varied humour. If the construction of a well-connected fable be, as it has frequently been deemed, the first of all literary achievements, Fielding will claim the supremacy; but should the pathetic in composition be considered, as it assuredly ought to be, especially when connected with moral excellence, as of greater value and higher rank in the scale of in

tellect than the display of comic character, or the skilful combination of incident, the palm must be given to Richardson.

Undismayed by the satire of Fielding, which was more than balanced by the applauses of the public, our author resumed his pen, and in the year 1748 produced the first two volumes of Clarissa; these were soon succeeded by a third and fourth volume; and then, after an interval of some months, four more volumes completed the narrative.

The production of Clarissa, perhaps the most pathetic tale ever published, at once elevated its author to the highest rank among Novellists, and has secured him an immortality to which very few writers in the department which he cultivated can ever hope to aspire.

The fable, though extremely simple in its texture, displays a vast variety of character supported with singular consistency and truth; and, notwithstanding the great bulk of the work, no episodical digression is admitted, but the story proceeds in a direct undeviating course. "With Clarissa it begins," observes Mrs. Barbauld, "with Clarissa it ends. We do not come upon unexpected adventures and wonderful recognitions, by quick turns and surprizes: we see her fate from

A

afar, as it were through a long avenue, the gradual approach to which, without ever losing sight of the object, has more of simplicity and grandeur than the most cunning labyrinth that can be contrived by art. In the approach to the modern country seat we are made to catch transiently a side-view of it through an opening of the trees, or to burst upon it from a sudden turning in the road; but the old mansion stood full in the eye of the traveller, as he drew near it, contemplating its turrets, which grew larger and more distinct every step that he advanced, and leisurely filling his eye and his imagination with still increasing ideas of its magnificence. As the work advances the character rises; the distress is deepened; our hearts are torn with pity and indignation; bursts of grief succeed one another, till at length the mind is composed and harmonized with emotions of milder sorrow; we are calmed into resignation, elevated with pious hope, and dismissed glowing with the conscious triumphs of virtue.” *

In the character of Clarissa, Richardson has presented us with a picture of nearly female perfection, a delineation which, unless in the hands of a great master, would be apt to produce a for

* Life, p. 83, 84.

mal insipidity; but the heroine of our author passes through such severe trials, through distresses so minutely described, yet so faithfully true to nature, that the interest excited in her behalf rises in every scene, and at length becomes poignantly keen. It is probable that no book, in any language, ever occasioned so many tears to flow, as the Clarissa of Richardson.

The accomplished villain is drawn at full length in the person of Lovelace, and finished with a warmth and glow of colouring that is perfectly unrivalled. It is a character, however, that, in some respects, steps beyond the modesty of nature, and, most assuredly, in all its features never had an original, either in this or any other country. It is a rich creation of the imagination, built, probably, upon the sketch of Rowe, but transcendantly superior to the outline of the poet.

"The character of Lothario," remarks Johnson, seems to have been expanded by Richardson into that of Lovelace; but he has excelled his original in the moral effect of the fiction. Lothario, with gaiety which cannot be hated, and bravery which cannot be despised, retains too much of the spectator's kindness. It was in the power of Richardson alone, to teach us at once

esteem and detestation; to make virtuous resentment overpower all the benevolence which wit, and elegance, and courage, naturally excite; and to lose at last the hero in the villain."*

The impression in favour of virtue, however subjected to the lowest depth of misery; the detestation of vice, however gifted and triumphant; are enforced in this novel through a medium so interesting and powerful, that its perusal has been productive of as much utility as amusement; and there is every reason to think that female morals in this island have, owing to its popularity, been rendered more chaste and pure.

Such was the interest excited, in the minds of many individuals, by the character and sufferings of Clarissa, that Richardson, during the progress of the work, which, as we have related, was published in portions, received a multitude of letters expressing the highest solicitude relative to the fate of his heroine, and requesting that her ultimate destiny might be fortunate. "I should read the account of her death," says one of his correspondents, "with as much anguish of mind as I should feel at the loss of my dearest friend." An anxiety so intense must have afforded the author a very high degree of pleasure, as it was * Life of Rowe.