"The mind or perceptive faculty distinguishes the arrangements or objects which nature exhibits, from those which itself has formed, by recollecting at pleasure, that these last were of its own production: but among the other calamities to which mankind are exposed, this is one, and surely the most dreadful, that the perceptive faculty some times loses a portion of its voluntary power, and ceases to be able to command the memory or train of ideas, or to be able to call up, arrest, or dismiss ideas by an effort of its will. This constitutes mania or madness. but he cannot dismiss an idea that presents itself strongly to his mind, nor so far exert recollection as to perceive its origin. If the same fancy occur to a man asleep, he will lie still, and do nothing; for he has no power believe its truth like the madman: but he wil over his body." A distinction exists much more strongly marked between sleep and madness than this which the author draws. During ideas of sense. The sonorous, visual, and sleep ideas of memory are mistaken for other ideas which form the materials of dreams, are mistaken for realities: it is not so in madness; the madman hears, sees, smells, like a sane person. It is in delirium only that the senses are thus diseased. A delirious person sees objects which no one else can see, and is so insensible to outward impressions that conmon noises are not perceived, and present objects not attended to. It is a curious question to solve, why in dreams, ideas of memory are mistaken for ideas of sense. Mr. Hobbes thought that the scenes which arise in the mind during sleep, are as vivid and complete in all their parts as realities, and hence no difference is distin "Under such a disease, the train of ideas, or involuntary memory, proceeds as usual, and presents to the mind all the objects of its former knowledge, and all the arrangements or imaginations that were ever formed by itself: but as the voluntary power over the memory is partially lost, the mind cannot arrest the course of its ideas, to recollect or dis-guishable. But when we wake in the tinguish which of them were originally of its own formation, and which of them arose from actual observation; neither has it the power of dismissing at pleasure any image that memory may chance to present to it. In such a situation, therefore, it believes as realities all its notions, and all the remembrances that happen to present themselves; and acts accordingly. Sieep differs from madness in this, that the madman usually possesses full power over the muscles of voluntary motion, and can fully exert all his limbs; whereas in sleep, all voluntary power is lost over the body, as well as over the memory. The train of ideas goes on, and produces what are called dreams. While the sleep remains, these dreams are believed to be true, or the ideas presented by the memory are regarded as realities; because there is no power of dismissing them, or of recollecting their origin; but as the voluntary power over the body has ceased, as well as the power over the memory, the sleeper remains quiet, and does not disturb the world. "Here, then, is the difference between a state of sound intellect, a state of madness, and a state of sleep. A man of sound mind can arrange his ideas so as to imagine himse f created emperor of China; but he can also recollect that this is a fancy of his own forming, and he can dismiss it from his thoughts. If a madman chance to form the same notion, he will believe it be true, and will assume the state of a monarch; for he can command his body and even his memory in a partial degree: morning, and compare the occurrences of sleep with the sensations of a waking state, the difference in vividness is immediately evident. It is the want of this comparison in sleep which gives rise to the mistake. In the day, when ideas pass through the mind, and objects strike upon the senses, the impressions of the latter are felt to be so much more vivid than the former, that no mistake can take place. The constant comparison prevents any illusion: but during sleep, external objects cease to make impressions upon the mind; ideas cannot be compared with sensations, and are therefore mistaken for them. The chapter on taste is executed in a much more ingenious and perspicuous manner, than the preceding part of this volume. If we have not been convinced, at least we have been amused, by the author's speculations. The theory of the beautiful and sublime, as connected with the moral doctrine which commences the volume, must engage our attention and exercise our criticism. "On examining the various objects of ta te, it will be found, that what is called their beauty is only another name for their pertertion. It consists of the skill and energy, or of the degree of intellectual excellence, that appears displayed on any occasion, or in the formation of any object. An object is called beautiful when it is excellent of its kind, or when a high degree of wisdom appears to have been exerted in its production. The pleasure with which it is regarded, is nothing else than the satisfaction which attends the contemplation of perfection, or of the valuable qualities of mind which the object has afforded an opportunity of displaying. If the excellence of an object is uncommonly great, so as to require a considerable effort to discern its whole worth, and all the skill and power which are manifested by means of it, such an object is said to be more than beautiful,-it is sublime. The opposite of beauty is deformity or imperfection; the opposite of sublimity is meanness, or extraordinary defectiveness." To judge of the truth or falsehood of this theory, we must have recourse to experiment. If any objects can be found beautiful or sublime, which display no exertion of intellect, the theory must be confessedly inaccurate. A beautiful land scape pleases the beholder, without casting his look beyond the scene before him, to the mind which produced it. The winding rivulet which nourishes the vege, tation of the place, may exhibit the intelligence of him who placed it there; and to the eye of the scientific observer, every part of the scene may be stamped with intellect; but the perception of skill is denied to the generality of observers, who would be insensible to the beauty of the prospect if beauty consisted in intellect. Many objects may be found which arrange themselves under the sublime, and which display not the slightest traces of intellectual exertion. The sea during a storm, and the volcano during its eruptions, are undeniably sublime objects; but we cannot discern any skill in mountain billows, in showers of cinder, or rivers of Java. About a third of the volume embraces the different disquisitions connected with religion. It is executed with ability and will be read with gratification. Our author, very consistently with his leading tenet, thus vindicates belief in Deity. "It is a fact little attended to, but not the less true, that the existence of intelligent beings is all times merely a matter of supposition. Every man knows his own existence by immediate perception; but he knows the existence of other men, as rational beings, only in consequence of their actions. How do I know, for example, that any one rational mind exists in the world excepting my own? I answer, thus: I perceive with my eyes a form resembling my own: It eats, drinks, and sleeps, as I do: it utters language: it expresses sentiments of pain and pleasure, and makes interesting and ingenious remarks: it 669 fashions curious machines; and all its actions are regular, and have a tendency to produce some effect. From all these circumstances, I find myself under the necessity of supposing that this form is inhabited by a mind similar to my own, that thinks, and feels, and chooses, and rejects, as I do. Still this is only an inference, or a supposition, invented to account for appearances; for in no case can mind itself either be seen or touched. "But we discover the existence of an intelligent Contriver of the universe precisely each other. We find ourselves placed amidst in the way that we discover the existence of a vast scene of revolving worlds. That on which we live is well adapted to the accommodation and subsistence of various animals. These animals possess the most curious bodily structure, and the greatest variety of intellectual character. They are all suited, however, to the state in which they are placed; and were one circumstance of their form or fish perishes on land; the land animals perish situation changed they could not exist. A in the water; and if the carnivorous animals had been formed without weapons to destroy their prey, they must have perished by fanine. From this suitableness and accommo dation of all the parts of nature to each other, we conclude that it is the work of a mind that discerns, at least as well as we do, what is fit sary for the accomplishment of any purpose. and convenient, and what means are necesAs we conclude from the productions and actions of a man, that a rational mind inhabits his form; so, from the skilful contrivance of all the parts of nature, we conclude that it is inhabited and animated by a powerful mind. This great mind is invisible; but the mind of man is invisible also. This great mind is also in this way only that the existence of the only known from its operations; but it is mind of man is known. Hence it follows, that we have precisely the same evidence of the existence of the Deity, or of a mind that arranged the universe, that we have of the existence of a living and thinking mind in any man or woman with whom we are acquainted.' Having thus examined the present portion of the metaphysical labours of Mr. Forsyth, we take leave of him for a time. The volume, although it contains much refutable matter, displays a respectable portion of ingenuity, clearness, arrangement, consistency, and comprehension. These qualities will be increased by exercise. The powers of the mind, like the muscles of the body, grow stronger by labour. that is valuable to our previous stock of This volume will, we fear, add little metaphysical knowledge; but it may be the forerunner to something of greater value. It may be only the gleaming of twilight, which will be followed by the radiance of day. ART. III.-Academical Questions. By the Right Hon WILLIAM DRUMMOND, K. C. F. R. S. E. Author of a Translation of Perseus. 4to. Vol. I. pp. 420. METAPHYSICS, or the science of intellectual nature, appears to have been one of the earliest subjects of speculation which engaged the attention of philosophers. The operations of the understanding might seem a subject peculiarly adapted for the investigation of the human mind. Yet it has so happened that into no subject has a greater degree of perplexity and uncertainty been introduced, not so much perlaps from the nature of the study itself, as from the injudicious manner in which the pursuit of it has been conducted. Even to delineate and classify the operations of the mind with accuracy, is a task of no small nicety and difficulty, and requires the exercise of vigorous, steady, and acute observation. But not content with the discharge of this humbler duty, the philosophers of antiquity, and many of their successors in modern times, have sought to penetrate into the substantial nature of the soul, and without any data of experience,, to trace it in its progress through past and future scenes of being. Hence the doctrines of pre-existence, reminiscence, metempsychosis, with innumerable others equally visionary and unsubstantial. On the whole, therefore, in ancient literature, the science of metaphysics, notwithstanding the celebrity of the names recorded among the number of its votaries, and the genius and labour expended on its cultivation, does not seem to have been in general directed to objects of utility. Many sparks of truth were indeed struck out, but no steady and directing light was kindled. Intellectual science seems in its full proportion to have partaken of the decay which taste, crudition, and knowledge of every species, sustained after the fall of the Roman empire. Under the schoolphilosophy it was indeed revived, but only to appear disguised under accumulated absurdities. After most literary pursuits had recommenced that career of improvement which they have scarcely ever since relaxed, this was long enveloped in all the gloom of scholastic obscurity. France and England were the first to burst those fetters of authority in which the human faculties had been enchained. But the systems of Descartes and Malbranche have disappeared, while Locke retains the glory, not perhaps of carrying the science which he investigated to perfection, but of having disincumbered it of many absurdities, of having conducted the investigation with that caution which is the character istic of true philosophy, and of having laid down those first principles from which subsequent enquirers, we apprehend, will never be able to deviate with safety. Mr. Drummond in his preface eloquently complains of the neglect imo which metaphysical science has fallen in England, and particularly in our univer sities, the representatives in many respects of our literary republic. The fortune of this study among us has indeed been rather singular. The scholastic philosophy was able for centuries to maintain an uncontrouled dominion; the free genius of Locke, in overleaping the boundaries and exposing the absurdities of that philosophy, was considered as engaged in a rebellious attempt to overthrow an established empire; Europe acknowledged his merit and success, and they who condemned and discarded him soon claimed the honour of his name. There now seems to be some danger lest the veneration paid to his name should be his only honour; and, as has happened in other instances, that while he is permitted to hold a high rank among the promoters of science, his theories and discoveries should be almost disregarded and forgotten. The following extract conveys the feelings of our author on this subject. "Little fortitude, however, is requisite to bear with indifference the misrepresentations of the ignorant, or the contempt of the vi gar, the mistakes of the illiterate, or the pretensions of the supertcial. The philosopher who would trick themselves out in his matte, may calmly assert his claims against those, and may leave frivolity and dullness to themselves, to scoff, or to revile, without exper encing any sentiments of regret or indignetion. It is nothing to him, that his tone d his language are ill imitated by the sophist; that he is considered as a useless member of society by the heavy plodding man of bisridicule of the gaudy coxcomb, by whom be ness; or that he is exposed to the impotent can never be approved, because he can never be understood. What is it to him, though his name be unknown among the monopolizers, the schemers, and the projectors, that throng the crowded capital of a mercantile na tion? What is it to him, though his talents be undervalued by the votaries and the victims of dissipation, folly, and fashiou What is it to him, though grandeur should have withdrawn its protection from genius; though ambition should be satisfied with power alone; and though power should only exert its efforts to preserve itself? These things may not affect him: they may neither inter rupt the course of his studies, nor disturb the serenity of his mind. But what must be his feelings, if he should find, that philosophy is persecuted, where science is professed to be taught? Are there not some, who seein desirous of excluding it from the plan of public education? The advantages which are to be derived from cla sical knowledge are well understood in one piace; and a profound acquaintance with mathematics is highly estimated in another: while the study of the human mind, which is the study of human nature, and that examination of principles which is so necessary to the scrutiny of truth, are cither discouraged as dangerous, orneglected a useless." The work of Mr. Drummond, though replete with learning and acute observation, we find it from the want of a regular plan somewhat difficult to analyze. This deficiency is indeed almost unavoidable, as the present volume is only introductory, and is chiefly employed in controverting opinions and observations of former philosophers. It consists of two books, the former of which comprises nine chapters, which may be distinguished into three principal divisious. The first of these divisions, containing the first and second chapters, is chiefly employed in controverting the propriety of those popular statements by which the mental operations are considered as distinguishable into the exercise of various distinct intellectual faculties. Language of this sort the ablest metaphysicians have not hitherto scrupled to employ. "It cannot be doubted," says Hume, "that the mind is endowed with several powers and faculties; that these powers are distinct from each other; that what is really distinct to the immediate perception may be distinguished by reflection, &c." The convenience of this language, and its accommodation to practical purposes, cannot surely be disputed; it is only its philosophical accuracy that is questioned by Mr. Drummond. The arguments which he employs display all the refinement of metaphysical subtlety. Is power, he asks, a cause or an effect? If an ultimate cause, it is a principle beyond which we cannot proceed, and the supposition of distinct intellectual powers is destructive to that of the unity of the mind. If power is an attribute of substance, and things are distinguished only by their qualities, the supposition terminates in the confusion of substance, material, intellectual, and divine. The object of this and the subsequent reasoning it is difficult to apprehend, from a defect that pervades the whole 4 work as it now appears; our want of knowledge respecting the positive system which the author intends to establish. The remarks on Locke's account of power are more obvious, and few metaphysical reasoners of the present day will withhold their assent from them. The following extract, though mingled with some occasional obscurity from the circumstance to which we have just alluded, contains some valuable remarks. "The author of the Essay on Human Understanding is of opinion, that we obtain an idea of power, from observing the motion, other, and from attending to the influence of which external bodies communicate to each our volitions over our thoughts. We have certainly been led by these means to assunie the existence of power: it may be doubted, if we thence acquire any notion of it. "The motion of external bodies does not furnish us with any idea of what may be the motive principle. To perceive one object impelling and another impelled, is not to permotion. While impulse imparts impulse, I ceive that, which generates and continues may be sensible of a repeated effect, which, I may conclude, is produced by a repeating cause; but I have no perception of the cause. The ris movendi is no object either of sense, or of understanding. I see the thing moved, and I cannot conceive the force, by which it is moved. I suppose the earth to be carried vitation; and I do not thence pretend that I in its orbit round the sun by the power of gra have an idea, or notion, of the power of gra vitation. I am acquainted with the effect; I may suppose, though I do not perceive the occult cause. I cannot, therefore, conclude, that Jacquire any notion of power, by observ ing the motion of external bodies. combines, or separates, ideas, according to its "When it is asserted, that the mind rocalls, volitions, it may be suspected, that sufficient attention has not been given to the subject, A volition is a modified desire, exclusive (26) doctor Priestley observes) of any tumultuous emotion. A desire is the indistinct percept on of an idea; but desire by no means implies power. We could not have argued á priori, that volition would be followed by action, or desire by gratification, even where this happers whether there be any thing positively causal most frequently. May it not then be doubted, in volition, or whether any thing necessarily happen, because it has been willed by the mind? There can be no such thing as power which is contingent. "The power been oftener peremptorily assumed, than clearly explained. We have defined volition which are the objects of volition, must have to be a modified desire. Now the ideas, been already present to the mind, betore any desire concerning them could exist. There can be no desire about that, which is no ob of the mind over ideas has nind? "The observations, which I have just made, may be illustrated from ideas of memory. If in recollecting any train of ideas, I perceive a broken link in the chain, which I desire to fill up, my volition is not employed about the absent idea itself, but about the removal of a want, of which I am perceptive. Having, for example, the first and third ideas of a tram, I may perceive the absence of the intermediate idea, and may desire to recollect it; though my volition is not employed about this for gotten idea itself, for it is no object of my perception. I do, however, perceive an interrupted association of ideas; and the painful sensation, which accompanies any association felt to be wrong, may induce me to dwell upon the train, until it present itself to my mind in its original and proper order. Thus if I forget a word in a verse, which I formerly knew, I perceive its absence from the altered sense and the broken harmony. By repeating to myself the words, which I do know, the forgotten word often recurs to my mind. This happens, because the longer we attend to any ideas, the more distinctly we comprehend them; and because those ideas, which were formerly associated in our minds, more readily present themselves to the understanding In the same manner it may be argued, that ideas of intellect and imagination do not always present themselves to the mind by an act of the will. It is not always according to volition, that the orator arranges his discourse, er that the poet paints to the imagination. On the contrary, it would seem difficult to Comprehend, how volition should ever influeace the reasoning of the one, or the fancy of the other." The conclusion of the chapter contains some just ethical remarks, conveyed in elegant language, respecting the operation of the passions, and their independance on any direct and authoritative controul of the will. In the second chapter, in controverting the distinction between active and passive powers of the soul, the abstract subject of power is resumed. We may incidentally remark that a passive power is a very strange expression. It is however clearly shewn, in conformity with the reasoning of Hume, that with respect to the material world, when we speak of the relation of cause and effect, we have no idea of the power exerted, the causal efficacy; we perceive only the connection of events, or more strictly speaking, of perceptions. Some perplexing questions are then started respecting the distinctions between the active and passive states of the soul, which will not however create much difficulty to a necessarian, who regards the soul as always passive, at least in the sense of being subject to laws of causation in all its ope rations. The ideas of substance and primary matter, with the opinions of some ancient and modern philosophers on these subjects, form the basis of the third and fourth chapters. It is obvious to every reader of Locke, that while he possessed the great principles of mental philosophy, he did not in all instances extend them to their full application. Thus on the subject of substance he has been betrayed into some inconsistency with the principles which he himself has laid down. His inaccuracy is well exposed by Mr. Drummond. His very language indeed on this, as on some other occasions, betrays the confusion of his ideas. Speaking of the obscure notion which he supposes the human mind to possess of substance, "It is a supposition," he says, "of one knows not what support of such qualities as are capable of producing simple ideas in us." "Now a supposition," as Mr. Drummond justly remarks, " of one knows not what, does not give an obscure idea, but rather no idea at all." The fact is, as must ap pear to every attentive observer of the operations of his own mind, that of substance as of power, we are incapable of forming any positive idea. In the subse quent chapter the primary matter of the ancient and modern peripatetics is successfully ridiculed. The four succeeding chapters are devoted to the consideration of the great metaphysical question respecting the distinction between the primary and secon dary qualities of matter, in which the opinion is decisively maintained, that the former equally with the latter are the crea tures of perception. The following is the author's statement of the object of these chapters. “There can be no doubt, says Lord Menboddo, that ideas have their models and archetypes in the nature of things, and that bodies under various figures are the objects which affect our senses. If there were no doubt, there would be no dispute. But there is a dispute. Several philosophers have attempted to prove, that the mind is sentient, that the senses are not so, and that we, who only feel in ourselves, are incapable of discovering the causes of perception, and the sources of sentiment. For the same reasons they have questioned the existence of external qualities. Of these qualities the secondary 11 |