I confess, the idioms of the two languages are very different, and therefore that it will, in some instances, be impossible to reach the sublime delicacy of expression in an elegant French writer; but in return, their language is frequently so vague and diffuse, that it must be entirely the fault of the English translator if he does not often improve upon his original; but this will never be the case, unless we sit down with a design to translate the _ideas_ rather than the _words_ of our author. Most of the translations which I have read, appear like a thin gauze spread over the original: the French language appears through every paragraph; but it is entirely owing to the want of bread, the want of attention, or want of ability in the translator. Mr. Pope, and some few others, have shewn the world, that not only the ideas of the most sublime writers may be accurately expressed in a translation, but that it is possible to improve and adorn them with beauties peculiar to the English language. If in the following pages, the reader expects to find a servile, literal, translation, he will be mistaken. I never could, and never will, copy the failings of my author, be his reputation ever so great, in those instances where they evidently proceed from want of attention. Mr. Rousseau writes with great ease and elegance, but he sometimes wants propriety of thought, and accuracy of expression. As to the real merit of this performance, the universal approbation it has met with is a stronger recommendation than any thing I could say in its praise. A Dialogue Between a Man of Letters and Mr. J. J. Rousseau N. There, take your Manuscript: I have read it quite through. R. _Quite through?_ I understand you: you think there are not many readers will follow your example. N. _Vel duo, vel nemo._ R. _Turpe & miserabile._ But let me have your sincere opinion. N. I dare not. R. You have dared to the utmost by that single word: Pray explain yourself. N. My opinion depends upon your answer to this question: is it a real, or fictitious, correspondence? R. I cannot perceive the consequence. In order to give one’s sentiments of a book, of what importance can it be to know how it was written? N. In this case it is of great importance. A portrait has its merit if it resembles the original, be that original ever so strange; but in a picture which is the produce of imagination, every human figure should resemble human nature, or the picture is of no value: yet supposing them both good in their kind, there is this difference, the portrait is interesting but to a few people, whilst the picture will please the public in general. R. I conceive your meaning. If these letters are portraits, they are uninteresting; if they are pictures, they are ill done. Is it not so? N. Precisely. R. Thus I shall snatch your answers before you speak. But, as I cannot reply, directly to your question, I must beg leave to propose one in my turn. Suppose the worst: my Eloisa----