fation and progreffive motion make. Thus far Ariftotle, and all the ancients who were not Atheists, have clearly gone. And, further, Arillotle lays it down as the foundation of his natural philofophy, that there is an internal principle of motion in all phyfical bodies, though he does not call it by the name of Jux, or mind; and only fays it is like a mind. But Plato is more explicit upon this fubje&t; for, he fays exprefsly, in the paffage quoted in the beginning of this work, that it is mind that moves, and body that is moved. And the later Platonilis, and particularly Proclus, is ftill more explicit upon this fubject; for he blames Aristotle for animating the celestial fpheres, and putting them under the direction and fuperintendency of mind, but leaving all the lower elements dead and inanimate † And this appears to be likewife the opinion of the most ancient phiJofopher of Greece, Thales; and I doubt not, but that he brought it from Egypt with him; for he faid that the whole universe was full of gods, that is, of minds; and, particularly, he said, that it was mind in the loadstone which attracted iron. And, I think, this hypothefis of mine is agreeable, not only to ancient philofophy, but to religion; for our fcripture tells us, that the Deity, in his intercourfe with men, employs fubaltern minds or angels, as they are called, to execute his will. And I fee no reason why we may not fuppofe, that, by the fame miniftry, he carries on the operations of nature and, I think, it gives a much higher idea of the Supreme Mind, than if we were to fuppofe him performing all natural operations, fuch as the formation of plants and animals in their fucceffive generations, and the movement of every the leaft body, or concretion of matter, by his own immediate agency, and, as it were by his own hand. If it be true, as I fuppofe, that there is as great a variety of minds in the univerfe as of bodies, it is evident, that, if all the bufinefs of nature was to be the immediate work of the Supreme Mind, those inferior minds which, as I fuppofe, defcend below the Supreme, in infinite gradation, and, in that way, fill up the fcale of nature, would want employment, and "be ufelefs for any thing that appears in the creation."-Further, the progrefs in the generation, as well as the corruption of all things here below, is very flow, nature proceeding step by step, from one Atate of the thing to another. Now, it feems more worthy of the Divine Majefty, that this operofe procefs fhould be gone through by inferior agents of limited power, to whom it is prefcribed to act only in a certain way, than that it fhould be the immediate work of Omnipotence, who could do the work all at once, and by a fiat, without going fo much round about.-And, lafly, this hypothefis will account for Nature fometimes being difappointed of her end, and making what we may call imperfect and bungling work. This may happen through the inaptitude or ftubbornnefs of the matter not * . P. 9.' + Proclus in Timæum, p. 286 et 287. See alfo Cudworth's Intellectual Syftem, p. 236, 237.' See the book de Mundo, afcribed to Ariftotle, cap. 7.-See alfo Cudworth's Intellectual Syftem, p. 149, where this matter is very well treated.' yielding yielding to the force of an inferior operator; but could never happen, if the agent were omnipotent.' A confiderable part of this work is employed in refuting the modern philofophers, who fince the time that Locke and New. ton ventured to differ from Ariftotle, have been corrupting the morals and understandings of men. His Lordship, throughout his whole performance, profeffes the utmoft contempt for the Effay on the human Understanding. As to Sir Ifaac Newton he obferves, p. 271, Sir Ifaac, I doubt, in ancient times, while philofophy flourished, would not have been dignified with the name of a philofopher.' His Lordship does not condescend to anfwer particularly the blind followers of these blind guides; but he thinks his work furnishes principles fufficient to answer them all. He modeftly obferves (p. vii of the preface) that the ftyle of thofe authors, as well as their matter, is fo different from that of the authors I am accustomed to read, that I had not patience to read them with the attention which is neceffary to make a particular answer to them. Another reason is, that as my work is intended more for pofterity than the prefent age, I did not think proper to mix with it a controverfy with authors, whofe writings, if I may venture to prophecy, will be quite forgotten in not many years, however they may flatter themfelves with not only the continuance, but the increase of their literary fame.' Among thofe innumerable infects of a day, Lord Monboddo fingles out one, and condescends to deliver down to pofterity, in his immortal work, the perishing name of Mr. Hume, author of the English Hiftory, Effays, &c. which have gained reputation among certain perfons +.' His Lordship is not fatisfied with attacking the performances generally afcribed to that gentleman, but he ventures to afcribe to him fome anonymous productions, published fince Mr. Hume's death, and difavowed by his friends. Lord M. however, is convinced that they belong to him, not only from the impiety of the matter, but from the ftyle, which is dry, inanimate, and without the leaft colouring of claffical elegance t.' We are not called upon to enter into this controverfy between Lord M. and the friends of the late Mr. Hume; but, we hope, it will not be imagined that we exceed the bounds of our province, by fuggesting that the known animofity which prevailed between Mr. Hume and Lord Monboddo may have rendered the latter too precipitate in venturing to afcribe to Mr. Hume, works which that gentleman never acknowledged, and which his friends difavow.-We may be permitted farther to fuggeft to my Lord, that he might Chap. iii. B. v. † P. v. preface. + P. v. O 2 have have learned from the pious ancients ¶ to refpect the ashes of a deceased adverfary; and that it may be worth his while to confider whether the conquering of an unruly temper, and fubduing the paffions of refentment, envy, and malevolence, be not a better preparation for the world of fpirits than the most profound study of Ariftotle's metaphyfics *. We have too much refpect for the judgment of our Readers to trouble them with an examination of the principles of Sir Ifaac Newton's philofophy by an author who acknowledges that he knows nothing of mathematics but the bare elements +. It would be equally impertinent to obtrude on the Public the philofophical or religious fentiments of his Lordship, who, although he difcovers new arguments to fupport the myfterious doctrine of the Trinity in the jargon of ancient metaphyfics, contends ftrenuously for the abfurd and impious tenet of the eternity of the world t. We fhould wifh, however, to be able to entertain our Readers with fome of the peculiarities of a production which will be reckoned a very curious literary monument of the eighteenth century. But his Lordship's fingularitics would afford no kind of amufement; and it happens unfortunately, that fuch of his discoveries as are worth repeating, have already been explained at length by other writers who had the good fortune to agree with his Lordship. Thus he observes, p. 240, That Van Helmont' (and other chemical vifionaries of the dark ages) maintained that the celeftial bodies were all animated. And I was furprifed to find among them, my notion, that there was in the microcofm man, a trinity of principles, correfponding to the Trinity in the great world. Thus, again, in fpeaking of the profound and modeft Cudworth, I was particularly pleased that he agreed with me in what I have laid down as a fundamental principle, that body cannot move itself, and therefore what moves body, must be incorporeal §. This is We have already taken notice, that the greatest part of his Lordship's work is employed in proving the truth of what he kere lays down as a fundamental principle; a conduct familiar enough to metaphyficians, who frequently arrive, after a tedious circuit, at the precife point from which they fet out. poetically called, by Mr. Pope, prancing on metaphyfic ground || and is not unlike the difeafe defcribed by his Lordship under the name of the louping, that is the jumping, ague, which prevailed fome years ago near his Lordship's houfe in the country. We fhall infert the whole paffage, as the only new information that we have obtained from this very fingular performance : See the preface, p. 9. § P. 3 See Ancient Metaphyfics, paffim. + P. 263. 3 • We There was a phænomenon of the like kind, concerning which I had an opportunity of being very particularly and accurately informed. It was the cafe of a young girl, in the neighbourhood of my houfe in the country, who had a difeafe that is pretty well known in the country where I live, under the name of the kuping, that is, the jumping ague; and which is no other than a kind of frenzy, which feizes the patients in their fleep, and makes them jump and run like perfons poffeffed. The girl was attacked by this dif cafe three years ago, in the fpring, when he was about fixteen years of age, and it lafted fomething more than three months. The fit always feized her in the day-time, commonly about feven or eight o'clock in the morning, after he had been out of bed two or three hours. It began with a heavinefs and drowfinefs, which ended in fleep, at least what had the appearance of fleep, for her eyes were clofe fhut. In this condition, he would leap up upon ftools and tables, with furprising agility; then fhe would get out of the cottage, where he lived with her father, mother, and brother, and run with great violence, and much fafter than fhe could do when well, but always with a certain deftination to fome one place in the neighbourhood; and to which place the often faid, when the found the fit coming upon her, that he was to go; and, after he had gone to the place of her deftination, if the did not there awake, the came back with the fame certain direction, though the did not always keep the high road, but frequently went a nearer way across the fields; and though her road, for this reafon, was often very rough, she never fell, notwithstanding the violence with which the ran. But all the while fhe ran, her eyes were quite fhut, as her brother attefts, who often ran with her to take care of her, and who, though he was much older, ftronger, and cleverer, than fhe, was hardly able to keep up with her. When he told, before the fit came on, to what place fhe was to run, the faid the dreamed the night before, that she was to run to that place; and, though they fometimes diffuaded her from going to a particular place, as to my houfe, for example, where they faid the dogs would bite her, she said she would run that way, and no other. When the awaked, and came out of her delirium, the found herself extremely weak; but foon recovered her firength, and was nothing the worfe for it, but, on the contrary, was much the worfe for being restrained from running. When the awaked, and came to herself, fhe had not the leaft remembrance of what had paffed while he was afleep. Sometimes the would run upon the top of the earthen fence which furrounded her father's little garden; and, though the fence was of an irregular figure, and very narrow at top, yet the never fell from it, nor from the top of the houfe, upon which the would fometimes get by the affiftance of this fence, though her eyes were then likewife fhut. Some time before the diforder left her, fhe dreamed, as the faid, that the water of a well in the neighbourhood, called the driping well, would cure her; and, accordingly, the drank of it very plentifully, both when fhe was well, and when he was ill. Once, when he was ill, fhe expreffed, by figns, a violent defire to drink of it (for fhe did not, while in the fit, fpeak fo as to be intelligible), and they having brought her other water, she would not let it come near her, but re 0 3 jected jected it with figns of great averfion; but, when they brought her the water of this well, the drank it greedily, her eyes being all the while fhut. Before her last fit came upon her, she said she had just three leaps to make, and the would neither leap nor run more. And accordingly, having fallen afleep, as ufual, the leaped up upon the stone at the back of the chimney, and down again; and having done this three times, fhe kept her word, and never leaped or run more. She is now in perfect health. This account I had from the father, mother, and brother, whom I examined feparately and together, and likewife from the girl herfelf, fo far as the remembered; for, as I have faid, he had no memory of what paffed while fhe was in the fit; but the remembered very well every thing that happened when he was not, and particularly her dreams. And he told me, that the lept very well at night, had a good fomach, and was in every refpect well till the fit feized her. It began, the fays, at her feet, and, like a coldness or numbness, crept upwards and upwards, till it came to her heart; after which he had no more fenfe or feeling of the condition she was in.' From this and the other paffages which we have cited, the Reader will be enabled to form a judgment of his Lordship's ftyle, which cannot be more juftly characterised than by the fame epithets which his Lordfhip beftows on that of the admired author of the English History, dry, inanimate, and without the leaft colouring of claffical elegance.' After declaring our fentiments with equal fincerity and freedom concerning the demerit of his Lordship's performance, juftice obliges us to obferve, that we approve of the admiration and enthusiasm which he every where difcovers for the Grecian language and literature. The Greeks, doubtlefs, are our mafters in almoft every art that is either elegant or useful. Their works of poetry and eloquence are ftill unrivalled; but their philofophical difquifitions, whether concerning mind or body, have been greatly improved by the labour and ingenuity of fucceeding ages. Lord M. however, is unwilling to make any fuch diftinction; and his admiration of ancient metaphyfics (which we confider as the leaft valuable part of Grecian fcience), degenerating into extravagance and abfurdity, there is danger that he may hurt the caufe which he means to defend. In proof of this obfervation we fshall cite a paffage, which it is scarcely poffible to believe should have been written in a country enlightened by the discoveries of modern philofophy: • What I have faid in the preceding chapter concerning the connection of the prædicate or attribute with the fubject, in propofitions of which both the terms are general, is not to be understood by a reader who does not know the difference betwixt Senfe and Intellect, Generals and Particulars, Genus and Species, Accident and Subftance; for (I must repeat it again, though I fhould give of fence) |