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that virtue, which they could not but revere, even in ene. mies; and they regarded those ropes which they had vol. untarily assumed about their necks, as ensigns of greater dignity than that of the British garter. As soon as they had reached the presence, “ Mauny," says the monarchi, “are these the principal inhabitants of Calais ?"_" They are," says Mauny : They are not only the principal men of Calais-they are the principal men of France, my Lord, if virtue has any share in the act of ennobling." "Were they delivered peacably ?" says Edward. there no resistance, no commotion ainong the people ?” " Not in the least, my Lord; the people would all have perished, rather than have delivered the least of these to your majesty. They are self delivered, self devoted ; and come to offer up their inestimable heads, as an ample equivalent for the ransom of thousands." Edward was secretly piqued at this reply of Sir Walter : But he knew the privilege of a British subject, and suppressed his resentment. “Experience," says he,“ has ever shown, that lenity only serves to invite people to new crimes.Severity, at times, is indispensably necessary to compel subjects to submission, by punishment and example.“Go,” he cried to an officer, “ lead these men to execution."
At this instant a sound of triumph was heard throughout the camp. The queen had just arrived with a power. ful reinforcement of gallant troops. Sir Walter Mauny flew to receive her majesty, and briefly informed her of the particulars respecting the six victiins.
As soon as she had been welcomed by Edward and his court, she desired a private audience My Lord,” said she, “the question I am to enter upon, is not touching the lives of a few mechanicks--it respects the honour of the English nation; it respects the glory of my Edward, my husband, my king. You think you have sentenced six of your enemies to death. No, my Lord, they have senienced themselves; and their execution would be the execution of their own orders, not the orders of Edward. The stage on which they would suffer, would be to thena a stage of honour, but a stage of shame to Edward ! a reproach on his conquests; an indeliable disgrace to his
Let us rather disappoint these haughty burghers,
66 I am
who wish to invest theinselves with glory at our expence. We cannot wholly deprive them of the merit of a sacrifice so nobly intended, but we may cut them short of their desires ; in the place of that death by which their glory would be consummate, let us bury them under gifts; let us put them to confusion with applauses. We shall thereby defeat them of that popular opinion, which never fails to attend those who suffer in the cause of virtue.” convinced ; you have prevailed. Be it so," replied Edward : “ Prevent the execution; have them instantly before us." They came ; when the queen, with an aspect and accent diffusing sweetness, thus bespoke them ; Natives of France, and inhabitants of Calais, you have put us to a vast expence of blood and treasure in the recovery of our just and natural inheritance; but you have acted up to the best of an erroneous judgment; and we admire and honour in you that valour and virtue, by which we are so long kept out of our rightful possessions. You no. ble burghers! You excellent citizens ! Though you were tenfold the enemies of our person and our throne we can feel nothing on our part save respect and affection for you. You have been sufficiently tested. chains; we snatch you from the scaffold; and we thank you for that lesson of humiliation which you teach us, when you show us that excellence is not of blood, of title or station ;-that virtue gives a dignity superiour to that of kings; and that those whom the Almighty informs, with sentiments like yours, are justly and eminently raised above all human distinctions. You are now free to depart to your kinsfolk, your countrymen, to all those whose lives and liberties you have so nobly redeemed, provided you refuse not the tokens of our esteem. Yet we would rather bind you to ourselves by every endearing obligation; and for this purpose, we offer to you your choice of the gifts and honours that Edward has to bestow. Rivals for fame, but always friends to virtue, we wish that England were entitled to call you her sons.
."-"Ah, my country !” exclaimed St. Pierre ; “it is now that I tremble for you. Edward only wins our cities, but Phillippa conquers hearts.”
We loose your
1.-On Grace in Writing.–FITZBORNE'S LETTERS. I WILL not undertake to mark out, with any sort of precision, that idea which I would express by the word Grace; and perhaps it can no more be clearly described, than justly defined. To give you, however, a general in. timation 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. li consists not only in the particular beauty of single parts, but arises from the general symmetry and construction of the whole. An author may be just in his sentiments, lively in his figures, 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 least transposition without manifest prejudice to the entire piece. The thoughts, the metaphors, the allusions and the diction, should appear easy and natural, and seem to arise like so many spontaneous productions, rather than as the effects of art or labour.
Whatever, therefore, is forced or affected in the septiments ;-whatever is pompous or pedantic in the expression, is the very reverse of Grace. Her .mein 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 tu 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; so 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 leiter, 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 whèresoever 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 distinguished 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 elegunt 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. THOSE who were skilful in anatomny among the ancients, concluded from the outward and inward 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 handy 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 inends 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 object adequate to our senses. It is a particular system of Providence, that lies in a narrow compass.
The eye is able to command it; and, by successive inquiries, can search into all its parts. Could the body of the whole earth, or indeed the whole universe, be thus submitted to the examination of our senses, were it not too big and disproportioned for our inquiries, too unwieldy 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 body. 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 we discover in the body of every single animal.
The more extended our reason is, and the more able to 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 systein of a human body.
But to return to our speculations on anatomy, I shall here consider the fabric and texture of the bodies of animals 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 demonstrations. 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 fling the same number with ten thousand dice, or see every throw just five