1 cular kind of matter. Of mathematical points and lines too, though they figure not in the imagination, or as the Greeks called it palacia, we have very diftinct notions, not indeed direct but relative; but we fhall have occafion to say something of fuch notions afterwards, when we come to our author's reafonings concerning fubftances. In the mean time, is it not probable that Mr. Drummond here puzzles himself about infinite divifion, infinite diminution, and infinite augmentation, juft as others have done. before him, by taking thefe expreflions in a wrong sense? Philofophers, indeed, talk of the infinite divifibility of matter, and the infinite expanfion of space; but all that they have proved, is, that in the ideal divifion of ideal extension, we cannot proceed fo far, but that we might proceed still farther; and that we might conceive a wider expanfion than any that can poflibly be affigned. That the material world is not infinite is apparent from the phænomena of motion; for were matter without bounds, there would be no vacuum, and were there no vacuum there could be no motion. That real corporeal fubflances are not infinitely divifible is likewife evilent; for, if according to Newton and fome of the ancients, all bodies confift of atoms of the very fame kind, though differently arranged, it is obvious that in fuch body. the number of those atoms, however large, must be limited; or if, according to Bofcowich, they confift not of atoms, but of mere centres of attraction and repulfion, (and there feems to be no other alternative) the number of these centres in each body muft likewife be limited, because the influence of every centre extends through a certain sphere. In the fifth chapter the author treats of the fecondary qualities of bodies, and contends, that they have no existence but when they are perceived. Admiting the exiftence of bodies themfelves, the difpute which has been fo long carried on concerning thefe primary and fecondary qualities, and the exiftence of the latter, is kept alive by the most contemptible quibbling that ever difgraced pages devoted to fcience. The fenfation of fmell certainly exifts not but in a fentient being, and during the time that it is felt; but we learn by experience, that fomething proceeds from a rofe, for inftance, which coming into contact with the olfactory nerves excites, through the medium of them, the fenfation of fmell. This fomething'we call a quality of the rofe; and becaufe we have no direct idea of it as we have of figure, we call it a fecondary quality. That it is not fmell, though fometimes called by that name, is certain; but that it is to be found wher ever a rofe exifls, no man doubts; though in the folitary defert defert it can produce no fmell, because in the defert there is no fentient being affected by it. This is the whole myftery of fecondary qualities; and one would think that it contains nothing hard to be understood, or that fhould occafion controverfy among men of fcience really defirous of understanding each other. Metaphyficians, however, are not always defirous of understanding each other; for logomachy feems to be their delight. Because Dr. Reid has expreffed himself inaccurately on this fubject, Mr. D. treats him with a degree of contempt, which would be altogether inexcufable, had not that philofopher too often treated Locke in the fame manner for expreflions, of which, though inaccurate, the meaning intended by the author is as little liable to be miftaken by him who wishes to find it, as the Doctor's is on the prefent occafion. It is indeed fo difficult to write on fuch fubjects with uniform and perfect accuracy, that unlefs metaphyficians will agree to interpret the language of each other on more liberal principles than they have hitherto done, their fcience will never be carried to perfection. No man of candour can read the work before us and really believe that Mr. Drummond fuppofes rofes and dung-bills to be fentient beings, from which fenfations are tranfmitted to the mind of man; and yet the following fentence, if literally interpreted, unquestionably implies this meaning. "They (the organs of fenfe) are, as Cicero defcribes them, viæ quafi quædam a fede animi perforata; and thefe viæ quafi, which TRANSMIT nothing but fenfations to the foul, cannot inform it of external qualities." P. 54. We hoped to take a view of the whole first book of this work in one number of our journal, and of the second, in another; but we find this to be utterly impoffible without extending the prefent article beyond all proportion. On our author's reafonings refpecting folidity, extenfion, and motion, together with his doctrine concerning the intercourse, real or fuppofed, between mind and matter, we have yet made no remarks; and on thefe, with his notions of power, reit the foundations of his own fyftem, as well as his objections to the fyftems of others. We fhall therefore refume the controverfy (for fuch we are afraid it muft continue to be) and endeavour to conclude it in another number. (To be concluded in our next.) B & ART. ART. II. Mifcellaneous Plays, by Joanna Baillie. 8vo. 438 pp. 9s. Longman, &c. 1804. IF F the earlinefs of our notice were to be confidered as any measure of our favour, the ingenious writer of these plays would have juft reafon to complain of us. But, in truth, we confider her poetry as too vigorous a plant to require any nurfing from us; and fecure of its natural progrefs, we have fuffered it to give way to things which feemed more urgently to demand, from various caufes, our attention. Yet we cannot but think it ftrange, in the present moft deplorable ftate of our national drama, that no aid is fought by our theatres from a pen of fuch powers and fuch fascination as that of Mifs Joanna Baillie. Half the originality, and half the fine writing which fhe puts into any one of her tragedies, might ferve to furnifh out a legion of common dramas. Tragedy itfelf, however, is little encouraged; this must be the caufe of an effect, which would be otherwife unaccountable. But the public received De Monfort coldly; in fpite of one or two of the fineft fcenes that ever graced a theatre. It is true and for this neglect fome caufes may be affigned, neither difgraceful to the writer, nor the performers. Yet if fomething of the knowledge of the stage be wanting, might it not be imparted by thofe who are more fkilful in that branch of learning? and would it not be well worth while to employ fuch a pen, under the guidance of a person able to advife on those points? We are led more particularly to these remarks by the perufal of the first tragedy in this volume, RAYNER: a drama as full of poetical merit, nearly, as it is of verses; abounding with original conceptions, and fine fituations; and difplaying much knowledge of the human heart. Our judgment, as to the technical bufinefs of the theatre, may not, perhaps, be fuperior to that of the poetefs; on this, therefore, we fhall not particularly infift; but, as far as we perceive, there is but one material error of this kind in the play; and this, though a grofs one, is fo eafily removed, that the confideration of it could not occupy ten minutes. We allude only to the incident, certainly altogether comic, by which the execution of the hero is at prefent delayed. Remove that, which almost a stroke of the pen would do, and all would be confiftent and good. Exclufive of this, there cannot be a doubt that the play contains many fine and truly original fituations; much, as we conceive, that muft infallibly excite intereft, in reprefentation as well as in perufal. Rayner is a truly dramatic character. His fufferings are occafioned by a fingle deviation from virtue, into which he is led by much art of feduction. His fubfequent repentance is evidently fincere, and his defire of life, while it is perfectly confiftent with nature, is no where degrading to him. He every where carries with him the fympathy and the wishes of the reader, and would, we doubt not, of the fpectator. He is feduced into a gang of outlaws, fome of whom had been his friends, much as Jaffier is feduced to join the Venetian confpirators, without imitation, however, of thofe incidents. As to the writing of the drama, it has fo many beauties, that the choice among them is the only difficulty. The first foliloquy of Rayner may be chofen as well opening the nature of his fituation. "Be ftill, ye idle thoughts that tofs me thus, Thou'ft come upon me like an ambush'd foe In all thy varied forms of mifery. My night, my day dreams, ah! how are ye changed, Ye wove your sheeny maze of mingled thoughts, P. 26. There is much truth and beauty in the following dialogue, between a man condemned and his betrothed wife. ACT IV. The infide of the Prison: Rayner and Elizabeth are discovered fitting forrowfully by one another in earnest difcourfe. RAYNER. "Thou fayeft well, my fweet Elizabeth; B 4 Smiling Smiling like others of thy fex, I loved thee ; It was the thoughts of feeing thee-but cease! The gleam which fhews to me thy wond'rous excellenec ELIZABETH. "O no! as are our hearts, our way is one, And cannot be divided. Strong affection Contends with all things, and o'ercometh all things. RAYNER. "Alas, my love! these are thy words of woe, Which it fhall gain for us; here, from this earth ELIZABETH. "Ay, but thy way, thy way, my gentle Rayner It is a terrible one. Oh flesh and blood shrinks from the horrid pass! The fick man's bed, pillow'd with weeping friends: He meets the blood-warm'd foldier in his mail, RAYNER (Supporting her from finking to the ground.) "My dear Elizabeth, my moft belov'd! Thou art affrighted with a horrid picture By |