of man to the bulk of the whole earth, the earth to the circle it describes round the sun, that circle to the sphere of the fixt stars, the sphere of the fixt stars to the circuit of the whole creation, the whole creation it self to the infinite space that is every where diffused about it; or when the imagination works downward, and considers the bulk of a human body in respect of an animal, a hundred times less than a mite, the particular limbs of such an animal, the different springs which actuate the limbs, the spirits which set these springs a going, and the proportionable minuteness of these several parts, before they have arrived at their full growth and perfection. But if, after all this, we take the least particle of these animal spirits, and consider its capacity of being wrought into a world, that shall contain within those narrow dimensions a heaven and earth, stars and planets, and every different species of living creatures, in the same analogy and proportion they bear to each other in our own universe; such a speculation, by reason of its nicety, appears ridiculous to those who have not turned their thoughts that way, though at the same time it is founded on no less than the evidence of a demonstration. Nay, we may yet carry it farther, and discover in the smallest particle of this little world a new and inexhausted fund of matter, capable of being spun out into another universe.

I have dwelt the longer on this subject, because I think it may shew us the proper 'limits, as well as the defectiveness of our imagination; how it is confined to a very small quantity of space, and immediately stopt in its operations, when it endeavours to take in any thing that is very great, or very little. Let a man try to conceive the different bulk of an animal, which is twenty, from another which is a hundred times less than a mite, or to compare, in his thoughts, a length of a thousand diameters of the earth, with that of a million, and he will quickly find that he has no different measures in his mind, adjusted to such extraordinary degrees of grandeur or minuteness. The understanding, indeed, opens an infinite space on every side of us, but the imagination, after a few faint efforts, is immediately at a stand, and finds her self swallowed up in the immensity of the void that surrounds it; our reason can pursue a particle of matter through an infinite variety of divisions, but the fancy soon loses sight of it, and feels in it self a kind of chasm, that wants to be filled with matter of a more sensible bulk. We can neither widen, nor contract the faculty to the dimensions of either extreme. The object is too

big for our capacity, when we would comprehend the circumference of a world, and dwindles into nothing, when we endeavour after the idea of an atome.

It is possible this defect of imagination may not be in the soul it self, but as it acts in conjunction with the body. Perhaps there may not be room in the brain for such a variety of impressions, or the animal spirits may be incapable of figuring them in such a manner, as is necessary to excite so very large or very minute ideas. However it be, we may well suppose that beings of a higher nature very much excel us in this respect, as it is probable the soul of man will be infinitely more perfect hereafter in this faculty, as well as in all the rest; insomuch that, perhaps, the imagination will be able to keep pace with the understanding, and to form in itself distinct ideas of all the different modes and quantities of space.

SAMUEL CLARKE

[Samuel Clarke was born at Norwich in 1675. His father was an Alderman of that city and represented it in Parliament. Samuel was educated at the Free School of his native town. In 1691 he went to Caius College, Cambridge. Here he became an ardent student of the Newtonian philosophy, and at the early age of twenty, immediately after taking his degree, brought out an improved translation of Rohault's Physics, a work based on the principles of Descartes, intending thereby to guide the feet of University students into safer philosophic paths. This he further amplified in 1697, in an edition with copious notes, in which the doctrines of Descartes were corrected by those of Newton. Soon after 1701 he was presented to the living of Drayton, Norfolk. Thence he was transferred to London, being Boyle lecturer in the years 1704 and 1705. He was appointed chaplain to Queen Anne, and Rector of St. James', Westminster, in 1706 or 1707. died in 1729.]

He

SAMUEL CLARKE turned out a large amount of work in his comparatively short life. Besides his two more important contributions to philosophy, The Discourse concerning the Being and Attributes of God, and The Obligations of Natural Religion, and the Truth and Certainty of the Christian Revelation, he carried on a lengthy and learned correspondence with Leibnitz upon the Principles of Natural Philosophy; another correspondence upon Liberty and Necessity; wrote a letter to a Mr. Dodwell on the Immortality of the Soul; another to Bishop Hoadly upon the Proportion of Velocity and Force in Bodies in Motion; corresponded with young Joseph Butler, afterwards the famous author of the Analogy of Religion; produced essays on Baptism, Confirmation, etc.; treatises on The Scripture Doctrine of the Trinity, and on The Primitive Fathers and the Canon of the New Testament; also Paraphrases of the Gospels, and some sermons.

Clarke's style is not particularly attractive. It is usually intelligible and fairly clear, but it inclines to be ponderous, and is marred by too plentiful sprinklings of Scripture texts. He

has no humour, no imagination, and no great depth or originality of thought. In his philosophical writings he sought to introduce the truths of other men in plain and simple language, and succeeded fairly well.

His sermons are clear, forcible and well sustained. They exhibit great common-sense and moderation, and though far from beautiful, are dignified and in good taste.

The language

We doubtless lose in them

His Paraphrases of the Gospels are very able. is vigorous and fairly natural. They are colloquial, without irreverence or undue familiarity. some of the simplicity of the authorised version, their diction being a trifle pedantic at times. They are, however, distinctly effective. The free rendering of passages so familiar as to be in danger of being slighted, often brings out their meaning, or possible meaning, with distinct and quickening effect. These homely paraphrases are perhaps the most lasting and valuable legacy to English literature that has been made by Samuel Clarke.

A. I. FITZROY.