Unaccustomed though it was to the sincere portrayal of homely things, Chardin’s own generation became quickly appreciative of the finest phase of his art, and from 1738 to 1757 (as M. Emmanuel Bocher has so laboriously and carefully recorded in a volume which is the inevitable supplement to the De Goncourts’ literary study) the best engravers of the time--Laurent Cars, Lépicié, Surugue, Le Bas, and others besides--were busy in the translation of Chardin’s work. Such accomplished draughtsmen with the burin could not fail, of course, to express his obvious subject, and to retain in the black and white of their copperplates the sentiment of the canvas. But they did more than this--their flexible skill allowed them to retain often Chardin’s manner and method; so that the very men who had rendered best, or as well as the best, the trembling light of Watteau and his immense and airy distance, with all its delicate gradations and infinite planes, are found to be the complete interpreters of Chardin’s peculiar breadth and simplicity, and of that deliberate firmness which is opposed the most to Watteau’s masterly indecision. The low prices at which the prints were issued made the prints saleable, and popularised Chardin’s art among the educated middle class. Often but a couple of francs were charged for an engraving worth, if it is in fine condition, three or four guineas to-day. Contemporary criticism, and especially the criticism of Diderot, was favourable to Chardin, and may have assisted his fame. There were years in which ‘the father of modern criticism,’ occupied as much with intellectual charm and moral teaching as with technical perfection, fairly raved over the painter whose work was the eulogium of the _tiers état_. Lafont de St. Yonne, in 1746, places him very high in the ranks ‘des peintres compositeurs et originaux.’ In 1753, the Abbé le Blanc writes of him--‘Il prend la nature sur le fait.’ And a few years later it is Diderot who says: ‘It is always nature and truth. M. Chardin is a man of mind. He understands the theory of his art.’ Again, ‘M. Chardin is not a painter of history, but he is a great man.’ Then there dawns upon the critical mind some sense that the painter is repeating himself. From the old mint he reissues, with but slight modification, the old coins. Still-life apart, he can give us no new subjects; and the familiar ends by being undervalued, and the excellent is held cheaply. At last, from Diderot, in 1767, there comes the undisguised lamentation, ‘M. Chardin s’en va!’