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of his Aock returning Ganganelli's bows, which he dealt freely about him, said : “ Jelt not with that ugly man, he will one day be your malter." The merit of Ganganelli, in this case was totally out of the question, as he was an insignificant Friar even in his own convent. But an extraordinary gift of nature, a fomething that is not to be defined, never failed to make favourable impressions on those who observed him. It seemed as if Providence, unwil, ling to deviate from the usual course of natural agency in his favour, bestowed on him the ready means to raise him to the highest fortune. His ascendency and his affability secured to him a numerous party in the cloister, especially among the younger friars, enabled him to command a majority of votes in the election of superiors, and secured him from many inconveniencies, which must otherwise have ensued from the irregularity of his conduct, and his total disregard for monastic discipline. Again, this ascendency, joined to his profound diffimulation, discouraged his brethren froin entrusting him with any degree of authority among them, apprehensive that he would abuse it, and possibly might never chuse to quit it. But conventual honours were never the objects of his ambition. Perfectly satisfied with the liberty of acting according to his own fancy, he never envied those who were appointed to command. He did not chuse to become accountable for his conduct to a numerous community; and from the time, that the holy religious man of Allifi foretold his future elevation, his mind and heart were entirely fixed upon it.
As to his person, Ganganelli was of a strong clumsy make, and his features were hard and forbidding. It remains only to fay fome. thing of his manners, his connections, and his political principles: By assuming the habit of a Cordelier, Ganganelli did not get rid of the scoundrel habits of a low education. The bold confidence, and martial fierceness, remarkable among most of those friars in Italy, were ill calculated to soften, to polish, to refine the clownish indelicacy and low vulgarity which debased his character. not to learn in this school the little punctilios of honour, or the niceties of good-breeding, but he soon learnt to excel in an illiberal coarseness of behaviour. Nothing could be more vulgar or indecent than the language he always had in his mouth. The con.' fidence of his friends, or the flightest provocation drew from himn vollies of indelicate language. Nor were his amusements more elegant;'
Our author gives various hints and innuendos concerning Ganganelli, from which he seems defirous, that we should infer that he did not dislike the fair sex, and that he frequented some public houses, (but all this before he was raised to the papal chair, or even to the purple) and that he had but little, if any affection for his own order. On the whole from the inclination our author betrays to speak evil of Ganganelli, and from the penury he discovers of fuel to feed this flame, we may reasonably conclude, even from these letters, that Pope Clement XIV. was
a very amiable and respectable character. The vengeance of bigotry is
the best tribute of praise that could be paid to the liberality of his mind.
The letter writer having made various observations on Ganganelli's private life, follows him in his political career, from the cloister to the conclave, and from the conclave to the throne. He makes a panegyric on the institutions of the order of the Jesuits, and celebrates the fortitude and the piety of Pope Clement XIII. who, notwithstanding the menaces of fo many catholic powers, refused to abolish that order, and even by a new Bull confirmed it.
This work is written in an easy and familiar manner, without any mixture of levity or negligence. But, excepting fome anecdotes of Ganganelli, there is nothing in the performance that was not before sufficiently known to the literary and the political world.
Art. IX. Essays on the Intelle&tual Powers of Man. By Thomas
Reid, D. D. F. R. S. Professor of 'inoral Philosophy, in the University of Glagow. 4to. il. 55. boards, Bell, Edinburgh.
Robinsons, London, 1785. IT Tis not a less just, than a fine observation of Cicero, that
were a man secluded from human society, confined to folitude, and furnished with all the necessaries of life, he would wholly employ his time in a search after truth. Among the different divisions of human nature which we find in the writings of philosophers, there is none more juft, accurate, or comprehensive, than that into appetites, animal, social, and intellectual. The wants of the animal system, on the fatisfaction of which life depends, are the most importunate. These being gratified, a love of society manifests itself in the most savage tribes. But even society palls upon the taste, and would soon becomie infipid, if to the pleasure of interchanging sentiments and affections, that of gratifying curiosity were not added. Curiosity, then, is an eminent principle in human nature. To discover connections, to trace analogies, tó refer particular objects to general classes or orders, and to invent principles or laws, by which we may be enabled to command particulars, is a very great part of human employment. Rude as well as refined nations, indulge this propensity in some degree; the peasant as well as the philofopher. Here human nature appears in its greatest grandeur. Here all is calm and serene: and the mind elevated above the humiliation of animal appetite, and the turbulency of inordinate paffion, endeavours step by step, to
grasp grasp and comprehend the universe.* From the external world, it turns its reflecting power inward upon itself, and astonished at its own powers, labours in vain, to analyse itself, and to find out the true measure of truth,t the nature of belief, the just standard of knowledge.
On the one hand, if we consider the mind as a mirror which reflects the images of things, and attempt to trace every idea and notion to some original sensation and impression ; we are conscious of ideas and notions, which by all our efforts we cannot dismiss, which adhere, and mingle with the very form and essence of our nature, and are indeed the foundation of reasoning itself, but which cannot be referred to any external archetype, without plunging us for a time into the Lethe of Scepticism. On the other hand, if we suppofe, that the communication between mind and matter, is carried on in a manner nowise analagous to the laws which govern the material world. If we say, that the mind, directly, and without the intervention of ideas, and the mechanism of habit, perceives objects as they really are in themselves, their permanent existence which supposes a connection between the past and the future, and space, and duration infinitely extended beyond the eager pursuit of toiling fancy, we cut short all inquiry into our ideas of things, and our belief concerning them on the principles of reasoning: we consider the mind, as a being solitary, and of a nature which rejects all affinity and connection with other beings; as a magician whose ways are past finding out, and to whom there is nothing, as the poet said of Jupiter, similar in kind, or second in degree. The mediuin through which the influence of bodies on the mind, or the active energy of mind on bodies is exerted, may be examined, and the laws of communication between the object and the brain ascertained: but here, if impreffion's and ideas are rejected as fabulous, we quit the paths with which we are acquainted, and wander in regions wholly unknown: regions which present to the eye of curiosity, a waste almost as gloomy, and certainly more lasting, than that temporary suspension of belief which is the effect of scepticism. For what in reality is the result of that philosophy which pushes the doctrine of the existence of ideas into iceptical confequences, and what the result of that philosophy which pretends to think, and reason about bodies, and their qualities, without having ideas of them? The result of both.
* Sed animus æternus incorruptus agit atque habet cuncta, neque ipfe habetur. Salluft:
+ The To Miley 2015 Ambientes concerning which we find so much fubtile disquisition in the writings of Plato. ExG. REV. SEPT. 1785.
plainly is, that we yield obedience to the feelings of nature without knowing how. The queftion is not concerning the truth or reality of our sensations, whose force is allowed by all nen, and acknowledged by the greatest fceptic to be irresistible, but concerning the causes of those sensations, and the connexion of our ideas with one another. They who affirm that all information is received in a manner ana-, lagous to the representations given by means of images or pictures, endeavour in this manner, to explain the manner in which body operates on the fpirit. The action of the material world on the nerves and brain, or perhaps, some other, and some very fpirituous matter, the vehicle or leat of the foul, is supposed to re-act upon the material world, to re-echo, to reverberate, to reflect the various impressions of things. We bere make use of the various metaphorical terms, to re-act, to re-echo, to reverberate, to reflect, in or. der to obviate the witticisms of those who take notice, that no image or idea was ever discovered in the brain, and that extended and divifible substances cannot be painted or enyra ed upon a fubftance, if not absolutely unextended and indivifibie, yet of such exceeding subtility and narrow diinenfions, as cannot possibly afford either room or retention, to that infinite variety of thought and information with which the mind is furnished. It does not appear neceffary to what some writers ironically call the Ideal System, to affirm, that any picture is either painted, or engraved on any part of the human frame : but only, that the intimate nature and effence, the form and the neceffity, if we may say so, of the existence of things, and of their mutual relations and connections, are involved in an obfcurity, which human fagacity cannot penetrate : that all we are sensible of, or know, is, the impressions or effects of things on our minds ; that is, our own feelings, sensations, and ideas. That these must have a cause the sceptic allows when he searches for it in reason, though he searches in vain. That he most seriously believes in a necessary connection between the past and the future, the whole tenour of his life demonstrates : but, of this belief, he cannot give any other account than that he is carried along hy'the irresistible, the inexplicable force of his nature. He is unable to refer it to any known fpecies, or class of beings or of qualitics ; he cannot refer it to any cftablished rule or known physical law,* nor to any meta, physical or geometrical axiom.
* The term physical is here taken in its most enlarged, and its just sense, in which it comprehends inind as well as body.
The adversaries of this ideal philosophy, of whom BufFIER,+ a French Jefuit, as far as we have been informed, was the first, and Dr. Reid in our judgment, the ableft, as Dr. Beattie is the moit vague, clamorous, and violent, affirm, that sensation, memory, and belief are all fimple and original, and therefore inexplicable acts of the mind, which muít, all of them be resolved into the will of our maker. And in order, that these acts of the mind, may be dignified with all the authority of reason, they sometimes speak of them as judgments of the mind. It is upon the propriety or impropriety of the use they make on such occasions, of this term, that the truth or fallacy of their theory turns.
The general principle, the most prominent feature, the soul and spirit of their philosophy, is, that in our perception of external objects, the object is conceived to be external, and to have real existence and permanent qualities or powers, independent of our perception; and, consequently, that we have precisely the fame evidence for the permanent existence of things, that we have for the truth and reality of our own perceptions and sensations. Nay, it would feem that if there be, of if it were poffible that there should be any difference between the evidence we have for the reality of our perceptions and the evidence we have for the reality and permanent existence of external objects, it is on the fide of the latter, since the decisions of the judgment are more stable and respectable, than the fluctuating and varying authority of sense.
We shall first prove, that this new philosophy makes use of the word judgment in this manner, and secondly, make some observations on the doctrinal proposition which that use implies, and is meant to infinuate.
Sensation and memory are fimple, original, and perfectly diftinct operations of the mind, and both of them are original principtés or belief. Imagination is distinct from both, but is no principle of belief.
Sensation implies the present existence of its object; inemory its past existence; but imagination views its object naked, and without any belief of its existence or non-existence, and is therefore what the schools call fimple apprehenfion.
But here again the ideal system comes in our way: it teaches us, that the firit operation of the mind about its ideas, is simple apprehenfion; that is, the bare conception of a thing without any belief about it; and that after we have got simple apprehensions, by comparing them together, we perceive agreements or disagreements between them; and that this perception of the agreement or disagreement of ideas, is all that we call belief, judgment, or knowledge. Now, this appears to me to be all fiction, without
# Whose Traité des premiers Veritez et de la Source des nos jugements, was published in 1724.