them as fteadily under contemplation, or placed them together in the fame fituation as I do. Therefore I do not prefume to dictate or impofe my notions upon others, nor defire any more regard or attention than one would readily give to any common perfon upon matters wherein he has been conftantly converfant from his childhood; nor even here do I with my word might be taken any farther than fhall appear reasonable in the judgment

of the hearer.'

If we object to any thing in this account, it must be to the low opinion which the Author hath expreffed of himself and his work. His talents are far above mediocrity: he must have read and thought with equal attention and perfeverance upon the numerous fubjects which he hath confidered: his extraordinary penetration hath enabled him to explore the moft hidden recesses of the mind, and to bring into view the most latent principles of action and though many of his readers may think him miftaken in his leading fentiments, or in fome lefs important parts of his fyftem, they will certainly meet with a variety of original matter, and cannot fail of being pleafed with the amiable fpirit of candour and benevolence which breathes through the whole of his performance.

We apprehend, likewife, that our Author is mistaken in the judgment that he has formed of himself, when he fpeaks of the coldness of his natural temperament.' His work bears all the marks of proceeding from a warm and glowing imagination, which his judgment is not always able to reftrain within due bounds. The familiar inftances taken from common life,' for the purpose of illuftrating and exemplifying abftrufe notions,' difcover the moft lively and playful fancy. He hath even indulged a vein of humour and pleafantry, which hath fometimes led him, in his own phrafe, to fetch comparifons from the stable or the fcullery, when others, equally fuitable to the purpofe, might have occurred in the parlour or the drawing-room.

In regard to any inaccuracy of ftyle, impropriety of manner, or deficiency in method, which may be noticed in any particular parts of the work, we fhall refer the Critic to the Author's own account and apology:

With respect to ornament of ftyle,' fays he, 'I would neither neglect nor principally purfue it; efteeming folidity of much higher import than elegance, and the latter valuable only as it renders the other more apparent. I pretend to but one quality of the good orator, that of being more anxious for the fuccefs of his caufe, than of his own reputation: but having obferved that the fame matter meets a different reception according to the manner wherein it is conveyed, and that ornaments properly difpofed, and not overloaded, make the subject more intelligible and inviting, I am defirous of putting my arguments into the handfomeft drefs I can furnish; not for the

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fake of fhow, but in order to gain them a more ready and more favourable admittance; with the fame view as a furgeon defires to have the finest polish upon his launcets, not for the beauty of the inftruments, but that they may enter the cafier, and pierce the furer.

As for the laying down of my plan, and choice of the me-thods to be taken in purfuit of it, thofe of courfe will be left to my own management, who may be fuppofed better acquainted with the nature and particulars of my design than a ftranger. Therefore my Reader, if I have any, will please to fufpend his judgment upon the feveral parts, until he has taken a view of the whole and even then, I hope, will not haftily pronounce every thing fuperfluous or tedious, or too refined, which he finds needlefs to himself: for I am, to the beft of my skill, to accommodate every tafte, and provide not only for the quick, the reasonable, and the eafy, but for the dull, the captious, and the profound.

• I shall need great indulgence with respect to the manner of my performance; wherein I fear will be found a degree of wildnefs and deviation from the ordinary rules of compofition. I was the lefs fcrupulous in adhering to them during the course of my work, as depending upon a fubfequent revifal for fetting matters to rights; but, upon trial, I perceive that correction is not my talent. I have made fome few additions in the fecond volume, as of two chapters, the firft and the twenty-fourth, the beginning fections in that of the vehicles, the visit to Stahl in the vifion, and the fix concluding sections of the laft chapter; but for the rest I am forced to give out the fi ft running off, with very little alteration. This difappointment falls the lighter, because what amendments I had hoped to make would have tended only to the better look and appearance of the work, for which I am much lefs folicitous than for the fubftance.'

The work before us is divided into two volumes, entitled, Human Nature, and, Theology; the 1ft volume being further divided into two parts, the 2d into three. We apprehend that, as the fame general fubject, and the fame series of chapters, are continued through each of the volumes, and only a different order of pages begun at the commencement of the feveral parts, if our Author had made the revifal which he intended, he would have called the larger divifions, Parts, and the smaller, Volumes.

Mr. Search begins with confidering the faculties of the mind, which he reduces to two; one by which we perform whatever we do, and another by which we difcern whatever presents itself to our apprehenfion. The former has ufually been styled the will, and the latter the understanding.' The former is active, the latter paffive: for on every exertion of our will the mind caufes fome motion, change of fituation, or alteration of the ubject it acts upon; and in every exercife of our understanding

he

the mind paffes either from a ftate of infenfibility to a ftate of difcernment, or from one kind of difcernment to another, as from fights to founds, or taftes, or reflections, according to the variety of objects that act upon it.'

That we are active in the exertions of our will, will be readily allowed. But by the common turn of our language we seem to claim an activity in the exercifes of our understanding too: for we generally exprefs them by active verbs.-Yet a very little confideration may fhew us, that in all fenfations at least, the objects are agents, and ourselves the patients.-The matter is not quite fo plain in the bufinefs of reflection, which the mind feems to carry on entirely upon its own fund, without aid of the body, without intervention of the fenfes, or impreffion of any thing external; acting folely and immediately in and upon itself. But, as our Author argues, if we confider the nature and effence of action, which feem to require two fubstances, one to act, and the other to be acted upon, we shall be led to conclude that no one individual thing can act immediately and directly upon itself, or without fome inftrument or medium intervening between the power exerted and the effect produced thereby. Left this abftrufe reafoning from the nature and effence of action fhould prove unintelligible or unfatisfactory, Mr. Search further advifeth us to confider what paffes in our mind in the work of reflection. This will furnish us with numberless inftances wherein reflections intrude upon the mind. whether we will or no: in regard to which the mind fhews evident marks of paffiveness; the will, wherein its activity lies, being ftrongly fet a contrary way. This is the cafe, alfo, with other reflections, which come upon us without, though not againft, our will. Even with respect to voluntary reflection, fuch as recollecting, ftudying, meditating, reaf ping, deliberating, and the like, if we examine the matter clofely, we shall find that the mind does not call up all our thoughts directly by its own immediate command, but feizes on fome one as a clue, whereby it draws in all the reft: we frequently choose our subject, but we do not choose the reflections from time to time occurring thereupon. 'Whoever,' fays our Author, will carefully obferve what he does when he fets himfelf down to study, may perceive that he produces none of the thoughts paffing in his mind, not even that which he uses as the clue to bring in all the others: he first withdraws his attention from fenfible objects, nor does he then inftantly enter upon his work. Some little time must be given for reflection to begin its play, which presently fuggefts the purpose of his enquiries to his remembrance, and fome methods of attaining it: that which appears moft likely to fucceed he fixes his contemplation upon, and follows whitherfoever that fhall lead, or checks his thoughts from

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time to time, when he perceives them going aftray; or stops their course if he finds it ineffectual, and watches for its falling into fome new train: for imagination will be always at work, and if restrained from roving in all that variety of fallies it would make of its own accord, it will ftrike into any paffages remaining open.' Fin. lly, we may remark, that the mind cannot always call up thofe thoughts which, for the most part, lie ready to appear at our fummons. How often do we endeavour in vain to recollect a name, a tranfaction, a circumftance we know extremely well? How often do we try to study without effect, to deliberate with various fuccefs, and perplex ourfelves with difficulties we have heretofore made nothing of?" From these premises our Author concludes, with the greatest probability, that the more narrowly we examine our procedure in all exercises cf the underftanding, the more firmly we fhall be perfuaded that the mind ufes a medium by whofe miniftry it obtains what it wants. Both in fenfation, and reflection of our own procuring, the mind acts upon the medium, and that again acts upon the mind: for as in reading we only open the book, but the page prefents the words contained in it to our fight; fo, in thinking, we fet our imagination to work, which exhibits appearances to our difcernment.

If we go about to examine what thofe mediums are we find fo neceffary to the mind, it will prefently occur that the ideas floating in our own imagination are to be ranked among the mediums.'

Upon thefe ideas Mr. Search proceeds to beftow a particular confideration. We fhall flect only fo much as may be neceffary to give our Readers a proper conception of his fcheme.

Idea,' fays he, is the fame as image, and the term imagination implies a receptacle of images: but image being appro priated by common ufe to vifible objects, could not well be extended to other things without confufion; wherefore learned men have imported the Greek word Idea, fignifying image or appearance, to which, being their own peculiar property, they might affix as large a fignification as they pleafed. For the image of a found, or of goodness, would have offended our delicacy, but the idea of either goes down glibly: therefore idea is the fame with respect to things in general, as image with refpect to objects of vifion."

In order to render the notion of ideas clearer, let us begin with images. When a peacock fpreads his tail in our fight, we have a full view of the creature with all his gaudy plumage before us the bird remains at fome diftance, but the light reflected from him paints an image upon our eyes, and the optic nerves tranfmit it to the fenfory. This image, when arrived at the ends of the nerves, becomes an idea, and gives us our dif

cernment

cernment of the animal; and after the bird is gone out of view we can recal the idea of him to perform the fame office as before, though in a duller and fainter manner. So when the nightingale warbles, the found reaches our ears, and, preffing through the auditory nerves, exhibits an idea affecting us with the difcernment of her mufic: and after fhe has given over finging, the fame idea may recur to our remembrance, or be raised again by us at pleasure. In like manner, our other fenfes convey ideas of their refpective kinds, which recur again to our view long after the objects firft exciting them have been removed.

These ideas, having entered the mind, intermingle, unite, separate, throw themselves into various combinations and poftures, and thereby generate new ideas of reflection ftrictly fo called, fuch as thofe of comparing, dividing, diftinguishing, of abstraction, relation, with many others: all which remain with us as a stock for our further ufe upon future occafions.

Here perhaps I fhall be put in mind that I have before fuppofed two fubftances neceffarily concurring in every action;and thereupon aked whether I conceive ideas to be substances? To which I anfwer, No: but as fuch anfwer will feem to imply a contradiction,-I fhall be called upon to reconcile it.

For which purpose I fhall have recourfe again to the image employed before. When we look upon a peacock, what is that image conveyed to us, confidered in the feveral ftages through. which it paffes? Not any thing brought away by the light from the bird, and thrown in upon us through our organs, but a certain difpofition of the rays ftriking upon our eyes, a certain configuration of parts arifing in our retina, or a certain motion excited thereby in our optic nerves: which difpofition, configuration, and motion, are not fubftances, but accidents, in ancient dialect, or modifications, according to modern philofophers. But accident or modification cannot exist by itself; it muft have fome fubftance to inhere in or belong to, which fubftance is indeed the agent upon all occafions. Nevertheless we commonly afcribe the action to the modification, because what kind it fhall be of depends entirely upon that: for the fame rays, the fame retina, the fame nerves, differently modified by the impulse of external objects, might have ferved to convey the image of an owl, or a bear, or any other animal, to our difcernment. Therefore that laft fubftance, whatever it be, which immediately gives us the fenfation, is the agent acting upon our mind in all cafes of vifion: and in like manner that fomething, fo or fo modified, which prefents to our difcernment, is the agent in all cafes of mental reflection, which modification we call our idea but because we know nothing more of the fubftance than the operation it performs, therefore, if we would speak to be underflood,