« ÎnapoiContinuați »
1.-On Grace in Writing.-FITZSBORNE'S LETTERS. WILL not undertake to mark out, with any sort of
word Grace; and perhaps it can no more be clearly described, than justly defined. To give you, however, a general intimation of what I mean, when I apply that term to compositions of genius, I would resemble it to that easy air, which so remarkably distinguishes certain persons of a genteel and liberal cast. It consists not only in the particular beauty of single parts, but arises froin the general symmetry and construction of the whole.--An author may be just in his sentiments, lively in his figores, and clear in his expression ; yet may have no claim to be admitted into the rank of finished writers. The several members must be so agreeably united, as mutually to reflect beauty upon each other; their arrangement must be so happily disposed, as not to admit of the Jeast transposition without manifest prejudice to the en. tire piece. The thoughts, the metaphors, the allusions and the diction, should appear easy aud natural, and seem to arise like so many spontaneous productions, rather than as the effects of art or labor.
Whatever, therefore, is forced or affected in the sen. timents ;--whatever is pompous or pedantic in the expression, is the very reverse of Grace. Her mien is neither that of a prude nor a coquette ; she is regular without formality, and sprightly without being fantastical. Grace, in short, is to good writing, what a proper light is to a fine picture : It not only shows all the figures in their several proportions and relations, but shows them in the most advantageous manner.
As gentility (to resume my former illustration) appears in the minutest action, and improves the most inconsiderable gesture ; 80 grace is discovered in the placing even the single word, or the turn of a mere expletive. Neither is this inexpressible quality confined to one species of composition only, but extends to all the various kinds ; to the humble pastoral, as well as to the lofty epic ;from the slightest letter, to the most solemn discourse.
I know not whether Sir William Temple may not be considered as the first of our prose authors, who introduced a graceful manner into our language. At least that quality does not seem to have appeared early, or spread far amongst us. But wheresoever we may look for its origin, it is certainly to be found in its highest perfection, in the essays of a gentleman, whose writings will be distioguished so long as politeness and good sense have any admirers. That becoming air which Tully esteemed the criterion of fine composition, and which 'every reader, he says, imagines so easy to be imitated, yet will find so difficult to attain, is the prevailing characteristic of all that excellent author's most elegant performances. In a word, one may justly apply to him what Plato, in his allegorical language, says of Aristophanes, that the Graces, having searched all the world round for a temple, wherein they might forever dwell, settled at last in the breast of Mr. Addison.
II.-On the Structure of Animals.-SpecTATOR.
make of a human body, that it was the work of a being transcendantly wise and powerful. As the world grew more enlightened in this art, their discoveries gave them fresh opportunities of admiring the conduct of Providence, in the formation of a human body. Galen was converted by his dissections and could not but own a Supreme Being, upon a survey of his bandy work. There were indeed, many parts of which the old anatomists did not know the certain use; but as they saw that most of those which they examined were adapted with admirable art, to their several functions, they did not question but those, whose uses they could not determine, were contrived with the same wisdom, for respective ends and purposes.
Since the circulation of the blood has been found out, and many other great discoveries have been made by our modern anatomists, we see new wonders in the human frame, and discern several important uses for those parts, which uses the ancients knew nothing of. In short, the body of man is such a subject, as stands the utmost test of examination. Though it appears formed with the nicest wisdom, upon the most superficial survey
of it, it still mends upon the search, and produces our surprise and amazement, in proportion as we pry into it. What I have here said of a human body, may be applied to the body of every animal which has been the subject of anatomical observations.
The body of an animal is an objecť adequate to our senses. It is a particular system of Providence, that lies in a narrow compass. The eye is able to command it; ànd, by successive inquiries, can search into all its parts. Could the body of the whole earth, or indeed the whole universé, be thus submitted to the examination of our
enses, were it not too big and disproportioned for our inquiries, too unwieldly for the management of the eye and hand, there is no question but it would appear to us, as curious and well contrived a frame as that of a human hody. We should see the same concatenation and subserviency, the same necessity and usefulness, the same beauty and harmony, in all and every of its parts, as what wa discover in the body of every single animal.
The more extended our reason is, and the more able tó grapple with immense objects, the greater still are those discoveries which it makes, of wisdom and providence, in the works of creation. A Sir Isaac Newton, who stands up as the miracle of the present age, can look through a whole planetary system; consider it in its weight, number, and measure; and draw from it as many demonstrations of infinite power and wisdom, as a more confined understanding is able to deduce from the system of a human body.
But to return to our speculations on anatomy, I shall here consider the fabric and texture of the bodies of an. imals in one particular view, which, in my opinion, shows the hand of a thinking and all wise Being in their formation, with the evidence of a thousand demonstratinns. I think we may lay this down as an incontested principle, that chance never acts in a perpetual uniformity and consistence with itself. If one should always Aling the same number with ten thousand dice, or see ev-, ery throw just imes less, or five times more, in number, than the throw which immediately-preceded it, who would not imagine there was some invisible power
directed the cast? This is the proceeding which we find in the operation of nature. Every kind of animal is diversified by different magnitudes, each of which gives rise to a different species. Let a man trace the dog or lion kind, and he will observe hory many of the works of nature are published, if I may use the expression, in a variety of editions. If we look into the reptile world, or into those different kinds of animals that fill the element of water, we meet with the same repetitions among several species, that differ very little from one another, but in size and bulk. You find the same creature that is drawn at large, copied out in several proportions, and ending in miniature. It would be tedious to produce instances of this regular conduct in Providence, it would be superfluous to those who are versed in the natural histo
of animals. The magnificent harmony of the universe is such, that we may observe innumerable divisions running upon the same ground. I might also extend this speculation to the dead parts of nature, in which we may find matter disposed into many similar systems, as well in our survey of stars and planets, as of stones, vegetables, and other sublunary parts of the creation. In a word, Providence has shown the richness of its goodness and wisdom, not only in the production of many original species, but in the multiplicity of descants which it has made on every original species in particular.
But to parsue this thought still farther-Every living creature, considered in itself, has many yery complicated parts, that are exact copies of some other parts which it possesses, which are complicated in the same manner. One eye would have been sufficient for the subsistence and preservation of an animal; but in order to better his condition, we see another placed, with a mathematical exactness, in the same most advantageous situation, and in every particular, of the same size and texture. It is impossible for chance to be thus delicate and uniform in her operations. Should a million of dice turn up twice together in the same number, the wonder would be nothing in comparison with this. But when we see this similitude and resemblance in the arm, the hand, the fingers; when we see one half of the body entirely correspond with the other, in all those minute strokes, withpat which a man might have very well subsisted ; nay, when we often see a single part repeated an hundred times in the same body, notwithstanding it consists of the most intricate weaving of numberless fibres, and these parts differing still in magnitude, as the convenience of their particular situation requires; sure a man must have · a strange cast of understanding, who does not discover the finger of God in so wonderful a work: These dupli. cates, in those parts of the body, without which a man might have very well subsister!, though not so well as with them, are a plain demonstration of an all wise Con. triver; as those more numerous copyings which are found among the vessels of the same body are evident demonstrations that tbey could not be the work of chance. This argument receives additional strength, if we apply it to every animal and insect within our knowledge, as well as to those pumberless living creatures, that are objects too minute for an human eye: And if we conside how the several species in this whole world of life resemble one another, in very many particulars, so far as is convenient for their respective states of existence, it is much more probable that an hundred million of dice should be casually throwo an hundred million of times in the same number, than that the body of any single animal should be produced by the fortuitous concourse of matter. And that the like chance should arise in indumerable instances, requires a degree of credulity that is not under the direction of common sense.
III.- On Natural and Fantastical Pleasures.
stitute human happiness, as they are distinguished into Natural and Fantastical. Natural Pleasures I call those which, not depending on the fashion and caprice of any particular age or nation, are suited to human nature in general, and were intended by Providence as rewards for osing our faculties agreeably to the ends for which they are given to us. Faptastical Pleasures are those which, having no natural fitness to delight our minds.presoppose sone particular wlim or taste, accidentally prevailing in a set of people, to which it is owing that they please,