PHILOSOPHICAL ESSAYS; to which are subjoined, COPIOUS NOTES, critical and explanatory, and a SUPPLEMENTARY NARRATIVE; with an APPENDIX. By JAMES OGILVIE. Philadelphia: published by John Conrad, 1816. Octavo-p. p. 279, and cxxi.

If the abundance of the harvest, may be taken as an evidence of the richness of the soil, the Americans have reason to boast of the increased fertility of their fields of literature, manifested by the numerous productions, which have issued from the press, during the year just closed. But do the most wholesome plants always spring up in the most fertile soil? Or, do the riches of literature consist in the multiplication of new works? Alas! experience has taught us to answer these questions in the negative. It is possible for the "laudum immensa cupido," to be carried too far. Indeed, we fear, that the whisperings of vanity are too often mistaken for this noble excitement to emulation; and that authors, while they profess to write for the amusement or instruction of the publick, are only acting under the influence of what the Greeks called alia

The author of the volume before us has, for several years, enjoyed a celebrity, as a declaimer on the rostrum, coextensive with the United States. We cannot help regretting, that his unrivalled fame, as an itinerant orator, has not been sufficient to satisfy the aspirations of his ambition. There are very few actors, in the grand drama of life, so preeminently gifted by nature, as to be able to play a variety of parts, with equal applause in all. We have often listened to Mr. Ogilvie's orations, with delight; but we have experienced a very different sensation, in reading his "Philosophical Essays." The truth is, that no two faculties are more rarely combined, than those of writing well and of speaking well. The constituent principles of elocution are so essentially different, from those of composition, that their conjunction may be regarded almost as a phenomenon. So many circumstances unite to awaken an interest for the orator, wholly unconnected with the substance of his discourse, that the judgment of an audience cannot be said to have any concern, in the pleasure which they feel, or in the plaudits which they bestow. But the writer, and particularly the writer of philosophical es

says, can make no appeal to the feelings of the reader: every word which he writes, must undergo the cold scrutiny of the judgment. What might be regarded as beauties in the orator, may be viewed as deformities in the author.

The first of the three Essays which have, we think, rather fancifully been termed Philosophical, is "on the cardinal importance of the study of mathematical science, as a branch of liberal education, and as connected with the attainment of superiour ability and skill, in the exercise of oratory." The author follows Lord Bacon, in dividing the ideas of the human mind into three classes: viz. reason, memory, and imagination; or rather, according to his own expressions, he reduces the trains of ideas into "trains connected by reasoning, trains connected by memory, and trains connected by imagination." As memory and imagination have nothing to do with the subject, he confines himself to reasoning, which he divides into "demonstrative, certain and probable." Verbose definitions are given of each of these divisions, which lead him to the following strange, unphilosophical, and we think, impious conclusions:

"Mathematical science is the only kind of human knowledge which may be regarded as a portion of divine truth. It is conceivable, that every existing system or speculation, physical, metaphysical, and moral, (however imposing its pretensions, numerous and enlightened its disciples, and strong its verisimilitude,) may be hereafter refuted, and give place to more congruous explanations of the phenomena of material and intellectual nature nearer approximations to the truth of things: but it is inconceivable and impossible, that the time will ever arrive, ever did, or can exist, when any mathematical theorem, (the Pythagorean for instance,) will be, has been, or can be refuted."

"Respecting mathematical truth, the ideas of Adam, before the fall, must have corresponded with those of the celestial visitants of Paradise, and with those also of the most corrupted and irreclaimable of his descendants. Even in the infernal regions, where the glorious faculties of one of the highest orders of treated intelligences, are in the utmost possible degree perverted and maligned, where God is detested, evil pursued as good, and truth abhorred, mathematical truth sheds its "increate" and irrefrangible light, on the minds of demons and damned spirits, as clearly, as on the originally less, but now perhaps more glorious faculties, of Newton, or of Pascal. We may even dare to believe, that in regard to every theorem supported by mathematical demonstration, science and omniscience coincide; that the evidence is beheld in the same light, by the Almighty mind, by the

Creator himself, and by the humblest and most fallible of his intelligent creatures"!

Surely the author might have found standards of comparison elsewhere! To us it appears, that the name of the God of heaven was the least proper, which could have been chosen for such an illustration. Mathematicians have never dared to venture speculations upon such unknown and unintelligible subjects; nor was such irreverence at all necessary, to prove the immutability of mathematical truth:

"But fools rush in where angels fear to tread."

That the study of mathematical science should constitute a part of every course of liberal education, we readily grant; but that it renders us familiar with God's conceptions, is not only an impious, but a ridiculous idea, which belongs to the "trains of imagination," rather than to the "trains of reason." Indeed, throughout the whole Essay, the author is completely at issue with his own position; for, instead of employing sober reasoning to show the peculiar excellence, as well as the effect, of mathematical study, he gives wing to his imagination, and soars thoughout all space:

"In the study of mathematical science, [says he]

'We wake all to reason, let no passion stir,
Repress imagination's airy wing,

Call home every vagrant thought;

"We ascend into those supernal regions of pure intelligence, where science, through an over-widening mental horizon sheds its "long levelled rule of white and shining light," dimmed by no doubt, refracted by no prejudice, eclipsed by no perverse habit."

This stuff forcibly reminds us of the pedant mentioned by Addison, who said that the Eneid only wanted the charms of rhyme, to make it the most perfect of poems. To prevent the ill effects, however, which might result from this florid eulogium on Mathematicks; and which the author, perhaps, was afraid would set every man, woman and child of his readers to studying Euclid's Elements, or the Principia of Newton, he kindly assures them, that the mere Mathematician wants taste, affection, sympathy, and, in short, every tie that binds society together. And yet this is the study that is to "form to God's the relish of our souls!"

The author has wrapped himself in a mist of high sounding phrases, with a plentiful sprinkling of quotations of lines and half lines of poetry, which convey neither instruction nor entertainment. The interest of the reader is never awakened to the real beauties of the subject. He is not called upon to witness the sublime efforts of a science, by which the mind of man has been enabled to quit this ball of earth, and soar to the distant planets and remoter stars, that twinkle through the immeasureable expanse of heaven. His attention is not directed to the bark struggling through the waves, and pursuing her steady course over the boundless ocean, by the power of mathematical knowledge. These are the beauties, the sublimities of the science, that are left untouched. His discourse is like the dashing of waters in a hollow cavern: we hear the roaring, but we listen, in vain, for the harmony, the melody of sound.

The second Essay is "on the nature, extent, and limits of human knowledge, so far as it is founded in the relation of cause and effect, and concerns mind and matter." We touch upon this Essay with great diffidence; for though we have read it with great attention, and have gone over many parts of it more than once, or twice, yet we must candidly confess, that we have not been able to understand it. If there is any meaning in it at all, it is beyond the "extent, and limits" of our knowledge. The author rejects Mr. Locke's definition of human knowledge, as deficient in philosophical precision, and very modestly offers the following substitute:

"Human knowledge [says he] or, more properly, that sort of human know. ledge, which we entitle science, may be defined: A coincidence between the association of ideas, and the order or succession of events or phenomena, according to the relation of cause and effect, and in whatever is subsidiary, or necessary, to realize, approximate and extend such coincidence: understanding by the relation of cause and effect, that order or succession, the discovery or developement of which, empowers an intelligent being, by means of one event or phenomenon; or by a series of given events or phenomena, to anticipate the recurrence of another event or phenomenon, or of a required series of events or phenomena, and to summon them into existence, and employ their instrumentality, in the gratification of his wishes, or in the accomplishment of his purposes."

The author, in a note to this passage, expresses a fear, that his definition will strike many readers as deficient, and adds,

"that he will thank the reader who deems it objectionable, to state his objections; and to substitute one more correct and comprehensive." By this, we suppose, he meant to say, that the reader, who cannot give a better definition, is bound to acknowledge the correctness of his. But it may be very easy to state unanswerable objections to a definition, and yet very difficult to substitute one, that shall not be equally "obnoxious to misconception." To give a correct definition, even of any particular branch of human knowledge, is confessedly the most difficult task, upon which human ingenuity can exert itself; and we feel no disposition to expose ourselves to the charge of presumption, by making the attempt: but we shall not be deterred, on that account, from expressing our conviction, that the author of this essay has thrown no new light upon the explanation of Mr. Locke. According to this philosopher, all knowledge is acquired by sensation and reflection. By the former we become acquainted with matter and its properties, or things external, by the latter we acquire a knowledge of mind and its energies, or things internal; and under mind and matter, we conceive, are embraced, all the objects of human knowledge.

"But, [says the author,] "if Locke, or one of his disciples were asked, how we acquire a knowledge of memory, imagination, reason, or any other intellectual faculty? he would reply-by reflection.

"But he would admit that we have as distinct a knowledge of reflection, as of any other mental faculty, or operation: not surely, through the medium of another reflection, for if this mode of explanation be admitted, we must proceed ad infinitum.”

From these very singular premises, he draws a conclusion still more singular, in the following words:

"It follows, then, that we have a direct knowledge of reflection, so far as it is known, or knowable, through the medium of consciousness."

From what, does this follow? surely not from what has just preceded it, (and we have quoted all that does precede it;) in which there is not a word said about consciousness. What, because it may be thought absurd to say, that we receive a knowledge of reflection, through the medium of another reflection, does it therefore follow, that we must receive this knowledge through the medium of consciousness? This is really a new species of logick, which may, perhaps, be admitted by the "su