grossest absurdities. Mr. Bayle observes, that Epicurus revived the system of atoms; and brought it into great repute: but adds, that he spoiled it in not retaining Democritus's doctrine respecting the soul of atoms. To pretend that a collection of inanimate atoms can be a soul, and can emit such images as occasion thoughts, is as confused an hypothesis as Hesiod's chaos. Though his system admits the existence of Gods, yet, as we have already seen, the idea which it gives concerning their natures, is degrading to the proper character of Deity, and cannot be at all explained in congruity with the fundamental principles of philosophy. Epicurus's ethics constitute the least exceptionable part of his system, and, when fairly considered, will be found, for the most part, conformable to reason and nature. The following is a summary of them: The end of living, or the ultimate good, which is to be sought for its own sake, according to the universal opinion of mankind, is happiness; yet men, for the most part, fail in the pursuit of this end, either because they do not form a right idea of the nature of happiness, or because they do not make use of proper means to attain it. Since it is every man's interest to be happy through the whole of life, it is the wisdom of every one to employ philosophy in the search of felicity without delay. The happiness which belongs to man, is that state in which he enjoys as many of the good things, and suffers as few of the evils, incident to human nature, as possible, passing his days in a smooth course of permanent tranquillity. It is impossible that perfect happiness can be possessed with out the pleasure that attends freedom from pain, and the enjoyment of the good things of life. Pleasure is in its nature good, as pain is in its nature evil; the one is therefore to be pursued, and the other to be avoided, for it own sake: Pleasure or pain is not only good, or evil in itself, but the measure of what is good or evil in every object of desire or aversion; for the ultimate reason why we pursue one thing and avoid another is, because we expect pleasure from the former, and apprehend pain from the latter. Although all pleasure is essentially good, and all pain essentially evil, it doth not thence necessarily follow, that in every single instance the one ought to be pursued, and the other to be avoided; but reason is to be employed in distinguishing and comparing the nature and degrees of each, that the result may be a wise choice of that which shall appear to be upon the whole good. There are two kinds of pleasure; one consisting in a state of rest, in which both body and mind are undisturbed by any kind of pain, the other arising from an agreeable agitation of the senses, producing a correspondent emotion in the soul. It is upon the former of these that the enjoyment of life chiefly depends. Happiness may, therefore, be said

to consist in bodily ease and mental tranquillity. It is the office of reason to confine the pursuit of pleasure within the limits of nature, in order to the attainment of that happy state, in which the body is free from every kind of pain, and the mind from all perturbation. This state must not, however, be conceived to be perfect in proportion as it is inactive and torpid, but in proportion as all the functions of life are quietly and pleasantly performed. This happy state can only be attained by a prudent care of the body, and a steady government of the mind. The diseases of the body are to be prevented by temperance, or cured by medicine, or rendered tolerable by patience. Against the diseases of the mind, philosophy provides sufficient antidotes. The instruments which it employs for this purpose are the virtues; the root of which, whence all the rest proceed, is prudence. This virtue comprehends the whole art of living discreetly, justly, and honourably, and is, in fact, the same thing with wisdom. It instructs men to free their understandings from the clouds of prejudice; to exercise temperance and fortitude in the government of themselves; and to practise justice towards others. Although pleasure, or happiness, which is the end of living, be superior to virtue, which is only the means, it is every one's interest to practise all the virtues; for in a happy life pleasure can never be separated from virtue. A prudent man, in order to secure his tranquillity, will consult his natural disposition in the choice of his plan of life. Temperance is that discreet regulation of the desires and passions by which we are enabled to enjoy pleasures without suffering any consequent inconvenience. They who maintain such a selfcommand, as never to be enticed by the prospect of present indulgence to do that which will be productive of evil, obtain the truest pleasure by declining pleasure. Sobriety, as opposed to inebriety and gluttony, is of admirable use in teaching men that nature is satisfied with a little, and enabling them to content themselves with simple and frugal fare. Such a manner of living is conducive to the preservation of health; renders a man alert and active in all the offices of life; affords him an exquisite relish of the occasional varieties of a plentiful board; and prepares him to micet every reverse of fortune without the fear of want. Continence is a branch of temperance, which prevents the diseases, infamy, remorse, and punishment, to which those are exposed who indulge themselves in unlawful amours. Music and poetry, which are often employed as incentives to licentious pleasures, are to be cautiously and sparingly used. Gentleness, as opposed to an irascible temper, greatly contributes to the tranquillity and happiness of life, by preserving the mind from perturbation, and arming it against the assaults of calumny and malice. A wise man, who

ture.

puts himself under the government of reason, will be able to receive an injury with calmness, and to treat the person who committed it with lenity. Refractory servants in a family should be chastised, and disorderly members of a state punished, without wrath. Moderation, in the pursuit of honours or riches, is the only security against disappointment and vexation. A wise man, therefore, will prefer the simplicity of rustic life to the magnificence of courts. Future events a wise man will consider as uncertain, and will therefore neither suffer himself to be elated with confident expectation, nor to be depressed by doubt and despair; for both are equally destructive of tranquillity. It will contribute to the enjoyment of life, to consider death as the perfect termination of a happy life, which it becomes us to close like satisfied guests, neither regretting the past, nor anxious for the future. Fortitude, the virtue which enables us to endure pain and to banish fear, is of great use in producing tranquillity. Philosophy instructs us to pay homage to the gods, not through hope or fear, but from veneration of their superior na. It morcover enables us to conquer the fear of death, by teaching us that it is no proper object of terror; since whilst we are,. death is not, and when death arrives, we are not; so that it neither concerns the living nor the dead. The only evils to be apprehended are bodily pain and distress of mind. Bodily pains it become a wise man to endure with patience and firinness; because, if it be slight, it may easily be borne; and if it be intense, it cannot last long. Mental distress commonly arises not from nature, but from opinion; a wise man will therefore arm himself against this kind of suffering, by reflecting that the gifts of fortune, the loss of which he may be inclined to deplore, were never his own, but depended upon circumstances which he could not command. If therefore they happen to leave him, he will endeavour as soon as possible to obliterate the remembrance of them, by occupying his mind in pleasant contemplations, and engaging in agreeable avocations. Justice respects man as living in society, and is the common bond, without which no society can exist. This virtue, like the rest, derives its value from its tendency to promote the happiness of life. Not only is it never injurious to the man who practises it, but nourishes in his mind calm reflections and pleasant hopes; whereas it is impossible that the mind in which injustice dwells should not be full of disquietude. Since it is impossible that iniquitous actions should promote the enjoyment of life as much as remorse of conscience, legal penalties, and public disgrace, must increase its troubles, every one who follows the dictates of sound reason will

practise the virtues of justice, equity, and hidelity. In society, the necessity of the mutual exercise of justice, in order to the coinmon enjoyment of the gifts of nature, is the ground of those laws by which it is pre

scribed. Nearly allied to justice are the vir tues of beneficence, compassion, gratitude, piety, and friendship. He who confers benefits upon others procures to himself the satisfaction of seeing the stream of plenty spreading round him from the fountain of his beneficence; and at the same time he enjoys the pleasure of being esteemed by others. The exercise of gratitude, filial affection, and reverence for the gods, is necessary, in order to avoid the hatred and contempt of all men. Friendships are constructed for the sake of mutual benefit; but by degrees they ripen into such disinterested attachments, that they are continued without any prospect of advantage. Between friends there is a kind of league that each will love the other as himself. A true friend will partake of the wants and sorrows of his friend as if they were his own: if he be in want, he will relieve him; if he be in prison, he will visit him; if he be sick, he will come to him; nay, situations may occur, in which he would not scruple to die for him. It cannot then be doubted, that friendship is one of the most useful means of procuring a secure, tranquil, and happy life. From the preceding summary of the ethics of Epicurus, it will be readily seen how unjustly his enemies misrepresented his doctrine, when they stated that it offered encouragement to the practice of vice and licentiousness, and how illiberally they perverted his sense of the term pleasure, when he taught that it was the ultimate end of living. Whatever errors and absurdities may be fairly attributed to his system, on the whole, it must be acquitted of giving any countenance to immorality. By the notions, however, which it propagated respecting the gods, and their unconcern with the affairs of the world, it certainly contributed, in common with the principles of the atheistic sects, and of others who denied the immortality of the soul, greatly to weaken the motives to virtue. It must be acknowledged also, that his doctrine was very early much abused, and that the greater part of those who pretended to belong to the Epicurcan school, reflected disgrace on the sect by their laxity and dissoluteness of manners. This was the case at Athens, and afterwards at Rome, where the sect continued in a depraved state till the decline of the Roman empire. In the Nouveau_Dictionnaire Historique the reader may find a short account of modern Epicurean schools in France, the members of which were more distinguished by their literary refinement, polished manners, and luxurious indulgence, than their culture of the genuine doctrine of the Greek philosopher."

Copernicus and Descartes are impor tant and well-executed articles, with Mr. Nicholson's signature; and some new and interesting lives of Danes, Swedes, and Germans, occur with the signature J.

THE preface to this volume impressed us with a favourable opinion of its impartiality. "Every thing," says the writer, "not calculated to give a striking idea of the valour of our troops, and the genius of their chief, is passed lightly over." Presently we are told that the memorable deeds of Bonaparte, his heroic actions, his thoughts, his expressions, replete with meaning, and his striking and sublime replies, all agree with each other, and form a whole which leaves nothing to be wished. This preface is followed by what the author calls a portrait of Bonaparte, whereby we learn that the first consul is of the middle stature, like Alexander; skilled in military stratagems like Hannibal, and equally great in peace as in war like Washington.

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"I shall not stop," says the biographer, to relate the thousand and one tales which have been published of the early years of Bonaparte. Why should we search into the uncertain past, when the present displays a long series of great actions, and the future promises us still more?" Notwithstanding this prudent resolution, so ridiculously expressed, we find tales as absurd as any of the thousand and one. His school-fellows were accustomed to say "Does he not appear born to command?”

"He was at that time employed on a poem, on the liberty of Corsica. He ima gined that, while slumbering in one of its numerous caverns, the genius of his country appeared to him in a dream, and, putting a poniard in his hand, called on him for vengeance. This was the opening of the poem, and whenever he added any thing to it, he would go and dig up a short rusty sword, which he called his poniard, send for his friend, and enthusiastically repeat the lines he had just written; after which he returned to bury his dagger.'

The first Italian campaign is rapidly narrated. Nothing is given at length but the general's speech. The only curious anecdote is the reply of Bona parte, when he was questioned why he had granted the emperor terms at such a time; "I was playing at vingt-et-un," said he, and being twenty, I stood." "On the night ensuing the long and dreadful battle of Arcola, Bonaparte disguised himself in the dress of an inferior oth

cer, and traversed the camp. In the course of his round, he discovered a centinel leaning on the butt-end of his musket, in a profound sleep. Bonaparte, taking the musket from ground, and kept watch for two hours in his under him, placed his head gently on the stead; at the end of which the regular guard came to relieve him. On awaking, the soldier was astonished at seeing a young officer doing duty for him; but when, looking more attentively, he recognized in this officer the commander in chief, his astonishment was "The general! Boconverted into terror. done!" Bonaparte, with the utmost gentlenaparte!" he exclaimed; "I am then unness, replied, Not so, fellow-soldier; recover yourself; after so much fatigue, a brave inan like you may be allowed for a while to sleep; but in future, choose your time better."

This circumstance is altogether improbable, and if true, would prove only an ostentation of clemency; to have waked the centinel, and walked on, would have been enough, but for a general in chief to keep watch two hours, while the guard was sleeping!

The expedition to Egypt is said to be Bonaparte's plan. Not a word of the defeat of the fleet is mentioned, except in the words of the general's dispatch, wherein he told the directory, "it was not till Fortune saw that the continuance of her favours were useless, that she aban doned our fleet to its destiny." The famous dialogue with the muftis, is given at length, "because it will give an idea of the genius of Bonaparte." The conversation is too studied, too much in the manner of dialogue writing to be considered as strictly authentic, yet it deserves some degree of credibility from this republication in a life, or rather a panegyric, of Bonaparte. "There is no other God but God," says the restorer of Catholicism to the mufti; "Mahomet is his prophet, and I am his friend. The divine Koran is the de

light of my soul, and the object of my. contemplation."

with indiscriminating rapidity; of course Every thing is related in this volume no hint is given of the massacre at Jaffa, and the more atrocious tale of the poisoned soldiers.

No light is thrown upon the retreat from Acre, that being one of the things nor calculated to give a striking idea of the valour of the troops, and the

genius of their chief." After the return of his hero to France, the author pauses, and makes the following very original reflections upon the Egyptian expedition.

Every thing depends on thought; forty thousand arms wait to be put in action by that of one man; few of the chiefs, perhaps only the commander himself, are in the secret; the rest, in anxious expectation, have no conception of the event. Minerva must spring completely armed from the brain.

"The first grand thought is to treat with contempt the physical obstacles they have to contend with, on their arrival, from the sea, the winds, the coast, darkness, and the smallness of their force. It is necessary to be sure of a position, and a harbour before they land. They disembark, and take Alexandria, all in one day.

Thought says, that an enemy astonished is half conquered. The next day the army continues its march: the shortest way becomes the best and most certain. Alexander's army, in a similar extremity, make use of seditious language to the conqueror of the world; but the French march on. The enemy make head against them; they neither haft nor entrench themselves, but advance to the charge. The enemy's force consists of cavalry, which the French are without; but science and tactics supply the deficiency; the theory of phalanxes, echelons, and oblique orders, is realised and put in practice; the vigorous and repeated charges of a numerous cavalry, are broken by the angles of square battalions, bristled with iron, and surrounded with fire, as the waves of the sea are repelled by the unshaken rock.

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Thought says, that an enemy easily dispersed, is as easily rallied, et in fugà metuendus; no delay till after their defeat; they must be sought under the walls of their captal, and driven from them; where the standard of opinion is hoisted, it must be taken. Cairo surrenders on the 20th day; and Egypt is conquered; but her ancient governors are not destroyed; all is not accomplished; there still remains something to do.

"Thought says, armies are dispersed by force; the people can only be conquered by laws: the moment of repose will be that of legislation.

Thought recollects, that manners, customs, and religion, are the means of the legislator, and that they are never abused by conquerors without punishinent. Thought will know how to make use of them, and respect in them the rights of every thinking being.

Thought, that always reads the future in the past, says, in fine, the centre of the enemy's force is occupied; but at the extremities its remains are still on foot; all is not done; something more is wanting: Upper Egypt, the ancient tower of Syene, shall be

made free; the Arabs shall return to the deserts, their country; well adapted for people who will acknowledge no home. The other extremity, the Asiatics, shall be driven back to their native soil.

Thought, then, has the right to perambulate on this land, covered with her first monuments, and with her ancient productiens; she calls in to her assistance the arts and sciences, and indefatigable observation. The laws revive in their ancient cradle. To conquer man we must make ourselves masters of his thoughts, in order to convince him by reason, instead of subjugating him by odious and servile fear. His efforts to break that necessary yoke must be repressed and kept within bounds, but not punished; for the very errors of the spirit of liberty are excusable; and clemency, after success, is both humane and politic.

Thought, that perceives near and afar off, foresees some menacing preparations, and is convinced, that to await a threat, is to yield to it; that a land newly acquired cannot support the claims of two contending armies; it is necessary to prevent the inundation by turning aside the torrent at its source; the enemy preparing for invasion, are invaded; their towns are taken, their troops are dispersed before they are well assembled, and their armies are defeated, in divisions, before they can unite themselves in a mass.

Thought then examines i projects, and casting a look behind, reviews what remains

to be done."

We have quoted this passage as a specimen of what trash passes for eloquence in France.

The sheiks at Cairo told Bonaparte that the koran conferred all knowledge. He asked if it taught how to cast cannon? and all the sheiks present answered yes!

The picture of France at Bonaparte's return is well drawn.

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Nothing was to be found but venality, disorder, and devouring putrefaction in the social body, sinking beneath its afflictions. Invisible legions of spies and informers, pursuing their odious tasks, had become indispensable to a weak administration, steering without compass or guide. Suspicion and fear lurked in every mind; confidence and friendship were totally annihilated; distrust and egotism, contracting and drying up every heart, banished affectionate sentiments and generous passions; and an insurmountable apathy prevailed amongst almost all individuals, as to the interests of the state.

"Every thing was put up at public auction; offices and treasons were become objects of traffic; justice was only a name, patriotism a mask, liberty a phantom, and virtue a deception. Perfidious machinations, and obscure intrigues, in which the vile