circulation in this country, and from the known reputation of Rosseau, as a writer as well as the internal excellence of the work itself, it is presumed it will be favorably received by all our subscribers. The first part of the inquiry is more meta. physical, and perhaps to some readers less interesting than it will be found after we have advanced farther. There is how, ever in this small work, such profound reflection and such sentiments of virtue as justly entitle it to a high share of estimation in the minds of virtuous and Philosophic men. If the discussions concerning matter and spirit should appear to some readers not altogether correct, it will nevertheless be satisfactory to display the operations of different minds upon such subtle and Philosophic subjects;-leaving the reader however in full possession of his inherent right to judge for himself, when he has weighed well the different arguments that are herein presented to his understanding.

Profession of Faith of a Savoyard Curate, from Rosseau.

I was in that state of doubt and uncertainty, in which Descartes requires the mind to be involved in order to enable it to investigate truth. This disposition of mind, however, is too disquieting to last long; its duration being owing only to vice or indolence. My heart was not so corrupt as to seek such indulgence; and nothing preserves so well the habit of reflection, as to be more content with ourselves than with our fortune.

I reflected, therefore, on the unhappy lot of mortals, always floating on the ocean of human opinions, without compass or rudder; left to the mercy of their tempestuous passions, with no other guide than an unexperienced pilot, ignorant of his course, as well as whence he came and whither he is going. I said often to myself; I love the truth; I seek, yet cannot find it; let any one shew it me and I will readily embrace it; Why doth it hide its charms from an heart formed to adore them ?

I have frequently experienced at times much greater evils; and yet no part of my life was ever so constantly disagreeable to me as that interval of scruples and anxiety. Running perpetually from one doubt and uncertainty to another, all that I could deduce from any long and painful meditation was incertitude, obscurity and contradiction; as well with regard to my existence as my duty.

I cannot comprehend how any man can be sincerely a sceptic, on principle. Such philosophers either do not exist, or they are certainly the most miserable of men. To be in doubt

about things which it is important for us to know, is a situation too perplexing for the human mind; it cannot long support such inceritude; but will, in spite of itself, determine one way or other, rather deceiving itself than content to believe nothing of the matter.

What added further to my perplexity was, that, being educated in a church whose authority being universally defective, admits not of the least doubt; in rejecting one point, I rejected in a manner all the rest; and the impossibility of admitting so many absurd decisions, set me against those which were not So. In being told I must believe all, I was prevented from believing any thing, and I knew not where to stop.

We have no standard with which to measure this immense machine; we cannot calculate its various relations; we neither know the first cause nor the final effects; we are ignorant even of ourselves; we neither know our own nature nor principle of action; nay, we hardly know whether man be a simple or compound being; impenetrable mysteries surround us on every side; they extend beyond the region of sense we imagine ourselves possessed of understanding to penetrate them, and we have only imagination. Every one strikes out a way of his own across this imaginary world: but no one knows whether it will lead him to the point he aims at. We are yet desirous to penetrate, to know, every thing. The only thing we know not, is to remain ignorant of what it is impossible for us to know. We had much rather determine at random, and believe the thing which is not, than_confess that none of us is capable of seeing the thing that is. Being ourselves but a small part of that great whole, whose limits surpass our most extensive views, and concerning which its Creator leaves us to make our idle conjectures, we are vain enough to decide what is that Whole in itself, and what we are in relation to it.

Taking a retrospect, then, of the several opinions, which had successively prevailed with me, from my infancy, I found that, although none of them were so evident as to produce im. mediate conviction, they had nevertheless different degrees of probability, and that my innate sense of truth and falsehood leaned more or less to each. On this first observation, proseeding to compare, impartially and without prejudice, these

different opinions with each other, I found that the first and most common, was also the most simple and most rational; and that it wanted nothing more, to secure universal suffrage, than the circumstance of having been last proposed.

The love of truth, therefore, being all my philosophy, and my method of philosophising the simple and easy rule of com mon sense, which dispensed with the vain subtility of argumentation, I re-examined, by this rule, all the interesting knowledge I was possessed of; resolved to admit, as evident, every thing to which I could not, in the sincerity of my heart, refuse my assent; to admit also, as true, all that appeared to have a necessary connection with the former, and to leave every thing else as uncertain, without rejecting or admitting it; determined not to trouble myself about clearing up any point which did not tend to utility in practice.

But, after all, who am I? What right have I to judge of these things? And what is it that determines my conclusions ? If, subject to the impressions I receive, these are formed in direct consequence of those impressions, I trouble myself to no purpose in these investigations. It is necessary therefore to examine myself, to know what instruments are made use of in such researches, and how far I may confide in their use.

In the first place, I know that I exist, and have senses whereby I am affected. This is a truth so striking that I am compelled to acquiese in it. But have I properly a distinct sense of my existence, or do I only know it from my various sensations? This is my first doubt; which, at present, it is impossible for me to resolve: for, being continually affected by sensations, either directly from the objects of them, or from the memory, how can I tell whether my self-consciousness be, or be not, something foreign to those sensations and independent of them?

My sensations are all internal, as they make me sensible of my own existence; but the cause of them is external and independant, as they affect me without my consent, and do not depend on my will, for their production or annihilation. I conceive very clearly, therefore, that the sensation which is internal, and its cause or object which is external, are not one and the same thing.

Thus I know that I not only exist, but that other Beings exist as well as myself; to wit, the objects of my sensations; and

though these objects should be nothing but ideas, it is very certain that these ideas are no part of myself.

Now every thing that I perceive out of myself, and which acts on my senses, I call matter; and all those portions of matter which I conceive united in individual beings, I call bodies. Thus all the disputes between the Idealists and Materialists sig nify nothing to me: their distinctions between the appearance and reality of bodies being chimerical.

Hence I have already acquired as certain knowledge of the existence of the universe as of my own. I next reflect on the objects of my sensations; and, finding in myself the faculty of comparing them with each other, I perceive myself endowed with an active power with which I was before unacquainted.

To perceive is only to feel or be sensible of things; to compare them is to judge of their existence: to judge of things, and to be sensible of them, are very different. Things present themselves to our sensations as single, and detached from each other, such as they barely exist in nature: but in our intellectual comparison of them they are removed, transported as it were, from place to place, disposed on and beside each other, to enable us to pronounce concerning their difference and similitude. The characteristic faculty of an intelligent, active being, is, in my opinion, that of giving a sense to the word exist. In beings merely sensitive, I have searched in vain to discover the like force of intellect: nor can. I conceive it to be in their nature. Such passive beings perceive every object single or by itself; or if two objects present themselves, they are perceived as united in one. Such Beings having no power to place one in competition with, beside or upon the other, they cannot compare them, or judge of their separate ex. istence.

To see two objects at once, is not to see their relations to each other, nor to judge of their difference; as to see many objects, though distinct from one another, is not to reckon their number. I may possibly have in my mind the ideas of a great stick and a little one, without comparing those ideas together, or judging that one is less than the other: as I may look at my hand without counting my fingers. The comparative ideas of greater and less, as well as numerical ideas of one, two, &c. are certainly no sensations, although the understanding produ ces them only from our sensations.

It has been pretended that sensitive Beings distinguish sen

sations one from the other, by the actual difference, there is be tween those sensations: This however demands an explanation. When such sensations are different, a sensitive Being is supposed to distinguish them by their difference; but when they are alike, they can then only distinguish them because they perceive one without the other; for otherwise, how can two objects, exactly alike, be distinguished in a simultaneous sensation ? Such objects must necessarily be blended together, and taken for one and the same: particularly according to that system of philosophy, in which it is pretended that the sensations representative of extension are not extended.

When two comparative sensations are perceived, they make both a joint and separate impression; but their relation to each other is not necessarily perceived in consequence of either. If the judgment we form of this relation were indeed a mere sensation, excited by the objects, we should never be deceived in it; for it can never be denied that I truly percieve what I feel.

(To be continued.)

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