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aavure--for the pure language of the affections for profound thought and lofty sentiment, she admits, that the greater poets of Erland are superior to any thing else that the world has yet exhibited. Milton, Young, Thomson, Goldsmith, and Gray, seem to be her chief favourites. We do not find that Cowper, or any later author, had come to her knowledge. The best of them, however, she says, are chargeable with the national faults of exaggeration, and 'des longueurs.' She overrates the merit, we think, of our novels, when she says, that with the exception of La Nouvelle Heloise, which belongs exclusively to the genius of the singular individual who produced it, and has no relation to the character of his nation, all the novels that have sucreeded in France have been undisguised imitations of the English, to whom she ascribes, without qualification, the honour of that meritorious invention.

The last chapter upon English literature relates to their philosophy and eloquence; and here, though the learned author seems aware of the transcendent merit of Bacon, we rather think she proves herself to be unacquainted with that of his illustrious contemporaries or immediate successors, Hooker, Taylor, and Barrow-for she places Bacon as the only luminary of our sphere in the period preceding the Usurpation, and considers the true era of British philosophy as commencing with the reign of King William. We cannot admit the accuracy of this intellectual chronology. The character of the English philosophy is to be patient, profound, and always guided by a view to utility. They have done wonders in the metaphysic of the understanding; but have not equalled De Retz, La Bruyère, or even Montaigne, in their analysis of the passions and dispositions. The following short passage is full of sagacity and talent.

"Les Anglais ont avancé dans les sciences phiphiques comme dans l'industrie commerciale, l'aide de la patience et du temps. Le penchant de leurs philosophes pour les abstractions sembloit devoir les entraîner dans des systêmes qui pouvoient étre contraires à la raison; mais l'esprit de calcul, qui régularise, dans leur application, les combinaiBons abstraites, la moralité, qui est la plus expérimentale de toutes les idées humaines, l'intérêt du merce, l'amour de la liberté, ont toujours ramené les philosophes Anglais à des résultats pratiques. Que d'ouvrages entrepris pour servir utilement les hommes, pour l'éducation des enfans, pour le souagement des malheureux, pour l'économie politi que, la législation criminelle, les sciences, la morale, la métaphysique! Quelle philosophie dans les conceptions! quel respect pour l'expérience dans le Doux des moyens!

C'est à la liberté qu'il faut attribuer cette *mulation et cette sagesse. On pouvoit si rarement e flatter en France d'influer par ses écrits sur les institutions de son pays, qu'on ne songeoit qu'à montrer de l'esprit dans les discussions même les plus sérieuses. On poussoit jusqu'au paradoxe un *ystême vrai dans une certaine mesure; la raison Ge pouvant avoir une effet utile, on vouloit au moins que le paradoxe fût brillant. D'ailleurs sous une monarchie absolue, on pouvoit sans danger vanter, comme dans le Contrat Social, la démocratie pure; mais on n'auroit point osé approcher des idées possibles. Tout étoit jeu d'esprit en France, hors arrêts du conseil du roi: tandis qu'en Angle

terre, chacun pouvant agir d'une manière quelcon. que sur les résolutions de ses représentans, l'or. prend l'habitude de comparer la pensée avec l'ac tion, et l'on s'accoutume à l'amour du bien public par l'espoir d'y contribuer.”—Vol. ii. pp. 5—7.

She returns again, however, to her former imputation of "longueurs," and repetitions, and excessive development; and maintain that the greater part of English books are obscure, in consequence of their prolixity, and of the author's extreme anxiety to be perfectly understood. We suspect a part of the confu sion is owing to her want of familiarity with the language. In point of fact, we know of no French writer on similar subjects so concise as Hume or Smith; and believe we might retort the charge of longueurs, in the name of the whole English nation, upon one half of the French classic authors-upon their Rollin and their Masillon-their D'Alembert-their Buffon-their Helvetius-and the whole tribe of their dramatic writers: while as to repetitions, we are quite certain that there is no one English author who has repeated the same ideas half so often as Voltaire himself-certainly not the most tedious of the fraternity. She complains also of a want of warmth and animation in our prose writers. And it is true that Addison and Shaftesbury are cold; but the imputation only convinces us the more, that she is unacquainted with the writings of Jeremy Taylor, and that illustrious train of successors which has terminated, we fear, in the person of Burke. Our debates ir. parliament, she says, are more remarkable for their logic than their rhetoric; and have more in them of sarcasm, than of poetical figure and ornament. And no doubt it is so-and must be so-in all the discussions of permanent assemblies, occupied from day to day, and from month to month, with great questions of internal legislation or foreign policy. If she had heard Fox or Pitt, however, or Burke or Windham, or Grattan, we cannot conceive that she should complain of our want of animation; and, warm as she is in her encomiums on the eloquence of Mirabeau, and some of the orators of the first revolution, she is forced to confess, that our system of eloquence is better calculated for the detection of sophistry, and the effectual enforcement of all salutary truth. We really are not aware of any other purposes which eloquence car serve in a great national assembly.

us.

ture-and here we must contrive also to close Here end her remarks on our English litera. this desultory account of her lucubrations though we have accompanied her through little more than one half of the work before now find room to say any thing of her expoIt is impossible, however, that we can sition of German or of French literature-and still less of her anticipations of the change which the establishment of a Republican gov ernment in the last of those countries is likely which, in contemplation of that event, she to produce, or of the hints and cautions with thinks it necessary to provide her countrymen. These are perhaps the most curious parts of the work:-but we cannot enter upon thera

at present; and indeed, in what we have already said, we have so far exceeded the limits to which we always wish to confine ourselves, that we do not very well know what apology to make to our readers-except merely, that we are not without hope, that the miscellaneous nature of the subject, by which we have been insensibly drawn into this great prolixity, may have carried them also along, with as moderate a share of fatigue as we have ourselves experienced. If it be otherwise-we must have the candour and the gallantry to say, that we are persuaded the fault is to be imputed to us, and not to

the ingenious author upon whose work we have been employed; and that, if we had confined ourselves to a mere abstract of her lucubrations, or interspersed fewer of our own remarks with the account we have attempted to give of their substance, we might have extended this article to a still greater length, without provoking the impatience even of the more fastidious of our readers. As it is, we feel that we have done but scanty justice, either to our author or her subject-though we can now make no other amends, than by earnestly entreating our readers to study both of them for themselves.

(July, 1806.)

The Complete Works, in Philosophy, Politics, and Morals, of the late DR. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. Now first collected and arranged. With Memoirs of his Early Life, written by himself. 3 vols. 8vo. pp. 1450. Johnson, London: 1806.

able and unworthy service. It is ludicrous to talk of the danger of disclosing in 1795, any secrets of state, with regard to the war of American independence; and as to any anecdotes or observations that might give offence to individuals, we think it should always be remembered, that public functionaries are the property of the public; that their character belongs to history and to posterity; and that it is equally absurd and dis creditable to think of suppressing any part of the evidence by which their merits must be ultimately determined. But the whole of the works that have been suppressed, certainly did not relate to republican politics. The history of the author's life, down to 1757, could not well contain any matter of offence; and a variety of general remarks and speculations which he is understood to have left behind him, might have been permitted to see the light, though his diplomatic revelations had been forbidden. The emissary of Government, however, probably took no care of those things. He was resolved, we suppose, "to leave no rubs nor botches in his work and, to stifle the dreaded revelation, he thought the best way was to strangle all the innocents in the vicinage.

NOTHING, we think, can show more clearly the singular want of literary enterprise or activity, in the United States of America, than that no one has yet been found in that flourishing republic, to collect and publish the works of their only philosopher. It is not even very creditable to the liberal curiosity of the English public, that there should have been no complete edition of the writings of Dr. Franklin, till the year 1806 and we should have been altogether unable to account for the imperfect and unsatisfactory manner in which the task has now been performed, if it had not been for a statement in the prefatory advertisement, which removes All blame from the editor, to attach it to a higher quarter. It is there stated, that recently after the death of the author, his grandson, to whom the whole of his papers had been bequeathed, made a voyage to London, for the purpose of preparing and disposing of a complete collection of all his published and unpublished writings, with memoirs of his life, brought down by himself to the year 1757, and continued to his death by his descendant. It was settled, that the work should be published in three quarto volumes, in England, Germany, and France; and a negotiation was commenced with the Imperfect as the work now before us nec. booksellers, as to the terms of the purchase essarily is, we think the public is very much and publication. At this stage of the busi- indebted to its editor. It is presented in a ness, however, the proposals were suddenly cheap and unostentatious form; and though withdrawn; and nothing more has been heard it contains little that has not been already of the work, in this its fair and natural mar- printed as the composition of the author, and ket. "The proprietor, it seems, had found a does not often settle any point of disputed bidder of a different description, in some emis- authenticity in a satisfactory manner, it seems, sary of Government, whose object was to on the whole, to have been compiled with withhold the manuscripts from the world, sufficient diligence, and arranged with connot to benefit it by their publication; and siderable judgment. Few writings, indeed. they thus either passed into other hands, or require the aid of a commentator less than the person to whom they were bequeathed, re- those of Dr. Franklin; and though this editor ceived a remuneration for suppressing them." is rather too sparing of his presence, we are If this statement be correct, we have no infinitely better satisfied to be left now and hesitation in saying, that no emissary of Gov- then to our conjectures, than to be incumberernment was ever employed on a more miser-ed with the explanations, and overpowered

with the loquacity, of a more officious at-pendent of the maxims of tutors, and the tendant. oracles of literary patrons.

We do not propose to give any thing like a regular account of the papers contained in these volumes. The best of them have long been familiar to the public; and there are many which it was proper to preserve, that cannot now be made interesting to the general reader. Dr. Franklin, however, is too great a man to be allowed to walk past, without some observation; and our readers, we are persuaded, will easily forgive us, if we yield to the temptation of making a few remarks on

his character.

This self-taught American is the most rational, perhaps, of all philosophers. He never loses sight of common sense in any of his speculations; and when his philosophy does not consist entirely in its fair and vigorous application, it is always regulated and controlled by it in its application and result. No individual, perhaps, ever possessed a juster understanding; or was so seldom obstructed in the use of it, by indolence, enthusiasm, or authority.

The consequences of living in a refined and literary community, are nearly of the same kind with those of a regular education. There are so many critics to be satisfied-so many qualifications to be established-so many ri vals to encounter, and so much derision to be hazarded, that a young man is apt to be de terred from so perilous an enterprise, and led to seek for distinction in some safer line of exertion. He is discouraged by the fame and the perfection of certain models and favourites, who are always in the mouths of his judges, and, "under them, his genius is rebuked," and his originality repressed, till he sinks into a paltry copyist, or aims at distinction, by extravagance and affectation. In such a state of society, he feels that mediocrity has no chance of distinction: and what beginner can expect to rise at once into excellence? He imagines that mere good sense will attract no attention; and that the manner is of much more importance than the matter, in a candidate for public admiration. In his attention Dr. Franklin received no regular education; to the manner, the matter is apt to be neand he spent the greater part of his life in a glected; and, in his solicitude to please those society where there was no relish and no en- who require elegance of diction, brilliancy of couragement for literature. On an ordinary wit, or harmony of periods, he is in some danmind, these circumstances would have pro-ger of forgetting that strength of reason, and duced their usual effects, of repressing all sorts of intellectual ambition or activity, and perpetuating a generation of incurious mechanics: but to an understanding like Frankn's, we cannot help considering them as peculiarly propitious; and imagine that we an trace back to them, distinctly, almost all the peculiarities of his intellectual charac

ter.

accuracy of observation, by which he first proposed to recommend himself. His attention, when extended to so many collateral objects, is no longer vigorous or collected;-the stream, divided into so many channels, ceases to flow either deep or strong;-he becomes an unsuc cessful pretender to fine writing, or is satis. fied with the frivolous praise of elegance or vivacity.

contented himself with expounding the metres of Pindar, and mixing argument with his port in the common room; and that if Boston had abounded with men of letters, he would never have ventured to come forth from his printing-house; or been driven back to it, at any rate, by the sneers of the critics, after the first publication of his Essays in the Busy Body.

Regular education, we think, is unfavour- We are disposed to ascribe so much power able to vigour or originality of understanding. to these obstructions to intellectual originality, Like civilization, it makes society more in- that we cannot help fancying, that if Franklin telligent and agreeable; but it levels the dis-had been bred in a college, he would have trictions of nature. It strengthens and assists the feeble; but it deprives the strong of his triumph, and casts down the hopes of the aspining. It accomplishes this, not only by training up the mind in an habitual veneration for authorities, but, by leading us to bestow a disproportionate degree of attention upon sules that are only valuable as keys or ingruments for the understanding, they come at last to be regarded as ultimate objects of This will probably be thought exaggerated; pursuit; and the means of education are ab- but it cannot be denied, we think, that the surdly mistaken for its end. How many contrary circumstances in his history had a powerful understandings have been lost in powerful effect in determining the character the Dialectics of Aristotle! And of how of his understanding, and in producing those much good philosophy are we daily defraud- peculiar habits of reasoning and investigation ed, by the preposterous error of taking a by which his writings are distinguished. He knowledge of prosody for useful learning! was encouraged to publish, because there was The mind of a man, who has escaped this scarcely any one around him whom he could training, will at least have fair play. What- not easily excel. He wrote with great brevi ever other errors he may fall into, he will be ty, because he had not leisure for more volusafe at least from these infatuations: And if minious compositions, and because he knew he thinks proper, after he grows up, to study that the readers to whom he addressed himGreek, it will probably be for some better self were, for the most part, as busy as himpurpose than to become critically acquainted self. For the same reason, he studied great with its dialects. His prejudices will be perspicuity and simplicity of statement. His those of a man, and not of a schoolboy; and countrymen had then no relish for fine writia speculations and conclusions will be inde-ing, and could not easily be made to under

stand a deduction depending on a long or elaborate process of reasoning. He was forced, therefore, to concentrate what he had to say; and since he had no chance of being admired for the beauty of his composition, it was natural for him to aim at making an impression by the force and the clearness of his

statements.

he began the investigation rather to determine a particular case, than to establish a general maxim, so he probably desisted as soon as he had relieved himself of the present difficulty. There are not many among the thoroughbred scholars and philosophers of Europe, whe can lay claim to distinction in more than one or two departments of science or literature.

left writings that call for our respectful attention, in natural philosophy,-in politics,-in political economy,-and in general literature and morality.

Of his labours in the department of Physics, we do not propose to say much. They were almost all suggested by views of utility in the beginning, and were, without exception, ap plied, we believe, to promote such views the end. His letters upon Electricity have been more extensively circulated than any of his other writings of this kind; and are entitled to more praise and popularity than they seem ever to have met with in this country. Nothing can be more admirable than the lu minous and graphical precision with which the experiments are narrated; the ingenuity with which they are projected; and the saga city with which the conclusion is inferred, limited, and confirmed.

His conclusions were often rash and inaccu-The uneducated tradesman of America has rate, from the same circumstances which rendered his productions concise. Philosophy and speculation did not form the business of his life; nor did he dedicate himself to any particular study, with a view to exhaust and complete the investigation of it in all its parts, and under all its relations. He engaged in every interesting inquiry that suggested itself to him, rather as the necessary exercise of a powerful and active mind, than as a task which he had bound himself to perform. He cast a quick and penetrating glance over the facts and the data that were presented to him; and drew his conclusions with a rapidity and precision that have not often been equalled. But he did not generally stop to examine the completeness of the data upon which he proceeded, nor to consider the ultimate effect or application of the principles to which he had been conducted. In all questions, therefore, where the facts upon which he was to deter- The most remarkable thing, however, in mine, and the materials from which his judg- these, and indeed in the whole of his physical ment was to be formed, were either few in speculations, is the unparalleled simplicity number, or of such a nature as not to be over-and facility with which the reader is con looked, his reasonings are, for the most part, perfectly just and conclusive, and his decisions unexceptionably sound; but where the elements of the calculation were more numerous and widely scattered, it appears to us that he has often been precipitate, and that he has either been misled by a partial apprehension of the conditions of the problem, or has discovered only a portion of the truth which lay before him. In all physical inquiries; in almost all questions of particular and immediate policy; and in much of what relates to the practical wisdom and happiness of private life, his views will be found to be admirable, and the reasoning by which they are supported most masterly and convincing. But upon subjects of general politics, of abstract morality, and political economy, his notions appear to be more unsatisfactory and incomplete. He seems to have wanted leisure, and perhaps inclination also, to spread out before him the whole vast premises of those extensive sciences, and scarcely to have had patience to hunt for his conclusions through so wide and intricate a region as that upon which they invited him to enter. He has been satisfied, therefore, on many occasions, with reasoning from a very limited view of the facts, and often from a particular instance; and he has done all that sagacity and sound sense could do with such materials: but it cannot excite wonder, if he has sometimes overlooked an essential part of the argument, and often advanced a particular truth into the place of a general principle. He seldom reasoned upon those subjects at all, we believe, without having some practical application of them immediately in view; and as

ducted from one stage of the inquiry to an other. The author never appears for a mo. ment to labour or to be at a loss. The most ingenious and profound explanations are sug gested, as if they were the most natural and obvious way of accounting for the phenomena; and the author seems to value himself so little on his most important discoveries, that it is necessary to compare him with others, before we can form a just notion of his merits. As he seems to be conscious of no exertion, he feels no partiality for any part of his speculations, and never seeks to raise the reader's idea of their importance, by any arts of declamation or eloquence. Indeed, the habitual precision of his conceptions, and his invariable practice of referring to specific facts and observations, secured him, in a great measure, both from those extravagant conjectures in which so many naturalists have indulged, and from the zeal and enthusiasm which seems so naturally to be engendered in their defence. He was by no means averse to give scope to his imagination, in suggesting a variety of explanations of obscure and unmanageable phenomena; but he never allowed himself to confound these vague and conjectural theories with the solid results of experi ence and observation. In his Meteorological papers, and in his Observations upon Heat and Light, there is a great deal of such bold and original suggestions: but he evidently sets but little value upon them; and has no sooner disburdened his mind of the impressions from which they proceeded, than he seems to dis miss them entirely from his consideration, and turns to the legitimate philosophy of ex

very wild speculation upon magnetism; and, notwithstanding the additional temptation of this new piece of ingenuity, he abandons it in the end with as much unconcern, as if he had had no share in the making of it. We shall add the whole passage.

periment with unabated diligence and humility. As an instance of this disposition, we may quote part of a letter to the Abbé Soulaive, upon a new Theory of the Earth, which ne proposes and dismisses, without concern or anxiety, in the course of a few sentences; though, if the idea had fallen upon the brain of an European philosopher, it might have ger-iron contained in the surface of the globe has made minated into a volume of eloquence, like Buffon's, or an infinite array of paragraphs and observations, like those of Parkinson and Dr. Hutton.

After remarking, that there are manifold indications of some of the highest parts of the land having been formerly covered by sea, Dr. Franklin observes—

Such changes in the superficial parts of the globe, seemed to me unlikely to happen, if the arth were solid in the centre. I therefore imagined, that the internal parts might be a fluid more dense, and of greater specific gravity than any of the solids we are acquainted with, which therefore might swim in or upon that fluid. Thus the surface of the globe would be a shell, capable of being broken and disordered by the violent movements of the faid on which it rested. And as air has been compressed by art so as to be twice as dense as water, and as we know not yet the degree of density to which air may be compressed, and M. Amontons calculated that its density increasing as it approached de centre in the same proportion as above the surface, it would, at the depth of leagues, be heavier han gold, and possibly the dense fluid occupying the internal parts of the globe might therefore be ar compressed. And as the force of expansion in Ense air, when heated, is in proportion to its Gens, this central air might afford another agent to move the surface, as well as be of use in keeping : the subterraneous fires; though, as you observe, the sudden rarefaction of water coming into contact with those fires, may also be an agent sufficiently wrong for that purpose, when acting between the ixumbent earth and the fluid on which it rests.

"It has long been a supposition of mine, that the it capable of becoming, as it is, a great magnet; that the fluid of magnetism perhaps exists in all space; so that there is a magnetical north and south of the Universe, as well as of this globe, so that if it were possible for a man to fly from star to star, he might govern his course by the compass; that it was by the power of this general magnetism this globe became a particular magnet. In soft or hot iron the fluid of magnetism is naturally diffused equally: But when within the influence of the magnet, it is drawn to one end of the iron; made denser there, and rarer at the other. While the iron continues soft and hot, it is only a temporary magnet: if it cools or grows hard in that situation, it becomes a permanent one, the magnetic fluid not easily resuming its equilibrium. Perhaps it may be owing to the permanent magnetism of this globe, which it had not at first, that its axis is at present kept parallel to itself and not liable to the changes it formerly suffered, which occasioned the rupture of its shell, the submersions and emersions of its lands, and the confusion of its seasons. The present polar and equatorial diameters differing from each other near ten leagues, it is easy to conceive, in case some power should shift the axis gradually, and place it in the present equator, and make the new equator pass through the present poles, what a sinking of the waters would happen in the present equatorial regions, and what a rising in the present polar regions; so that vast tracts would be discovered, that now are under water, and others covered, that are now dry, the water rising and sinking in the different extremes near five leagues. Such an operation as this possibly occasioned much of Europe, and among the rest this Mountain of Passy on which I live, and which is composed of limestone rock and sea-shells, to be abandoned by "If one might indulge imagination in supposing the sea, and to change its ancient climate, which how such a globe was formed, I should conceive, seems to have been a hot one. The globe being that all the elements in separate particles being now become a perfect magnet, we are, perhaps, orginally mixed in confusion, and occupying a great safe from any change of its axis. But we are still se, they would (as soon as the Almighty fiat or subject to the accidents on the surface, which are dained gravity, or the mutual attraction of certain occasioned by a wave in the internal ponderous sans, and the mutual repulsion of others to exist) fluid and such a wave is producible by the sudden all move to their common centre: that the air being violent explosion you mention, happening from the fluid whose parts repel each other, though drawn junction of water and fire under the earth, which the common centre by their gravity, would be not only lifts the incumbent earth that is over the densest towards the centre, and rarer as more re-explosion, but impressing with the same force the rate; consequently, all matters lighter than the fluid under it, creates a wave, that may run a central parts of that air, and immersed in it, would thousand leagues, lifting, and thereby shaking, sucrerede from the centre, and rise till they arrived at cessively, all the countries under which it passes. I that region of the air which was of the same specific know not whether I have expressed myself so gravy with themselves, where they would rest; clearly, as not to get out of your sight in these Wale other matter, mixed with the lighter air, reveries. If they occasion any new inquiries, and would descend, and the two, meeting, would form produce a better hypothesis, they will not be quite the shell of the first earth, leaving the upper atmosuseless, You see I have given a loose to imagination; phere nearly clear. The original movement of the parts towards their common centre, would naturally form a whirl there; which would continue, apon the turning of the new-formed globe upon its ars: and the greatest diameter of the shell would be in its equator. If, by any accident afterwards, the axis should be changed, the dense internal fluid, by altering its form, must burst the shell, and throw ad its substance into the confusion in which we find 8.1 will not trouble you at present with my fanmes concerning the manner of forming the rest of oat system. Superior beings smile at our theories, and at our presumption in making them."-vol. ii. op. 117-119.

He afterwards makes his theory much finer and more extravagant, by combining with it a

but I approve much more your method of philosophizing, which proceeds upon actual observation, makes a collection of facts, and concludes no further than those facts will warrant. In my present circumstances, that mode of studying the nature of the globe is out of my power, and therefore I have permitted myself to wander a little in the wilds of fancy."-vol. ii. p. 119-121.

Our limits will not permit us to make any analysis of the other physical papers contained in this collection. They are all admirable for the clearness of the description, the felicity and familiarity of the illustrations, and the singular sagacity of the remarks with which they are interspersed. The theory of whirl

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