XXX.

GEORGE BERKELEY, BISHOP OF CLOYNE.

1684-1752.

GEORGE BERKELEY, the celebrated metaphysician, was born in Ireland, in 1684, of a family of English extraction.

He received his early education in Kilkenny School, and at the age of fifteen entered Trinity College, Dublin, of which he became Fellow in 1707. He was ordained in 1709. In the following years he appeared as the author of a Treatise on Arithmetic, and of another on the Theory of Vision, in which he investigated the interdependence of the senses with great skill and sagacity. In 1710 he gave to the world the celebrated Treatise on the Principles of Human Knowledge. This work sets forth the theory of matter which was henceforth associated with Berkeley's name as the Berkeleian Theory. This Theory represents matter as not being an external substance, but only existing in the ideas of the human mind. The Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous followed, in which the same theory is applied to detect and expose the irreligious and immoral conceits of the day.

Berkeley's support of the Stuarts and advocacy of the doctrines of non-resistance and passive obedience was not likely to serve his interests with the House of Hanover, and on the accession of George the First, he took a tutorship and travelled for some years in France and Italy. He witnessed the eruption of Vesuvius in 1717, and his report, which was communicated to the Royal Society by Dr. Arbuthnot, is the earliest authentic one from the pen of an Englishman, and almost the first of any detail since the days of Pliny. It is given on this account, as well as because of its intrinsic interest, among the extracts which follow. On Berkeley's return to

England in 1721, his efforts to counteract the ruin caused by the failure of the South Sea Scheme brought him again into notice and favour. In 1724 he became Dean of Derry. In 1728 his generous and devoted spirit led him to offer to resign his Deanery and to enter upon a scheme for the foundation of a Missionary College at Bermuda, with the object of converting the North-American Indians. He resided for three years in Rhode Island for the execution and superintendence of this plan, which, however, fell to the ground through the failure of pecuniary aid promised by the government. The masterly series of Dialogues, Alciphron, or the Minute Philosopher, were the fruit of his leisure while in the new world. Soon after his return to Europe, the see of Cloyne became vacant, and to it Berkeley was consecrated in 1733. On his return to Ireland he devoted himself to charitable and patriotic objects, and especially to the improvement of the condition of the Irish labourer. He continued to reside at Cloyne until within a few months of his death, when he retired to Oxford, where he died early in 1753.

In addition to the works already mentioned, Berkeley contributed numerous brief essays on moral, social, and economical questions to the discussions of the day. His style is singularly adapted to the character of his philosophy, expressing as it does, the subtlest and finest philosophical ideas with the most felicitous freedom and ease, and even elegance and grace, which he combines, however, with great precision, and with a clear order and arrangement. As an exponent of philosophical thought, he is thus distinguished from former great writers in the same department; and he may be said to have created a new metaphysical style. He combined, however, with this philosophical temper an extraordinary practical enthusiasm, energy, and benevolence.

1. That Man can see God.

It seems to be a general pretence of the unthinking herd, that they cannot see God. Could we but see him, say they,

as we see a man, we should believe that he is, and believing, obey his commands. But alas, we need only open our eyes to see the Sovereign Lord of all things with a more full and clear view, than we do any of our fellow-creatures. A human spirit or person is not perceived by sense, as not being an idea; when, therefore, we see the colour, size, figure, and motions of a man, we perceive only certain sensations or ideas excited in our own minds; and these being exhibited to our view in sundry distinct collections, serve to mark out unto us the existence of finite and created spirits like ourselves. Hence it is plain, we do not see a man, if by man is meant that which lives, moves, perceives, and thinks as we do: but only such a certain collection of ideas, as directs us to think there is a distinct principle of thought and motion like to ourselves, accompanying and represented by it. And after the same manner we see God; all the difference is, that whereas some one finite and narrow assemblage of ideas denotes a particular human mind, whithersoever we direct our view, we do at all times and in all places perceive manifest tokens of the Divinity: every thing we see, hear, feel, or anywise perceive by sense, being a sign or effect of the power of God; as is our perception of those very motions, which are produced by men.

It is therefore plain, that nothing can be more evident to anyone that is capable of the least reflection, than the existence of God, or a spirit who is intimately present to our minds, producing in them all that variety of ideas and sensations which continually affect us, on whom we have an absolute, an entire dependance; in short, in whom we live and move, and have our being.'

That the discovery of this great truth which lies so near and obvious to the mind, should be attained to by the reason of so very few, is a sad instance of the stupidity and in

attention of men, who, though they are surrounded with such clear manifestations of the Deity, are yet so little affected by them, that they seem, as it were, blinded with excess of light.

But you will say, Hath Nature no share in the production of natural things, and must they be all ascribed to the immediate and sole operation of God? I answer, if by Nature is meant only the visible series of effects or sensations imprinted on our minds, according to certain fixed and general laws, then it is plain that Nature, taken in this sense, cannot produce anything at all. But, if by Nature is meant some being distinct from God, as well as from the laws of nature, and things perceived by sense, I must confess that word is to me an empty sound without any intelligible meaning annexed to it. Nature, in this acceptation, is a vain chimera, introduced by those heathens who had not just notions of the omnipresence and infinite perfection of God.—Treatise concerning the Principles of Human Knowledge.

2. Appeal to the Roman Catholic Clergy of Ireland.

Be not startled, reverend Sirs, to find yourselves addressed to by one of a different communion. We are indeed (to our shame be it spoken) more inclined to hate for those articles wherein we differ, than to love one another for those wherein we agree.

But if we cannot extinguish, let us at least suspend our animosities, and, forgetting our religious feuds, consider ourselves in the amiable light of countrymen and neighbours. Let us for once turn our eyes on those things in which we have one common interest. Why should disputes about faith interrupt the duties of civil life? or the different roads we take to heaven prevent our taking the same steps on

earth? Do we not inhabit the same spot of ground, breathe the same air, and live under the same government? Why then should we not conspire in one and the same design, to promote the common good of our country?

We are all agreed about the usefulness of meat, drink, and clothes, and without doubt, we all sincerely wish our poor neighbours were better supplied with them. Providence and nature have done their part; no country is better qualified to furnish the necessaries of life, and yet no people are worse provided. In vain is the earth fertile, and the climate benign, if human labour be wanting. Nature supplies the materials, which art and industry improve to the use of man, and it is the want of this industry that occasions all our other wants. The public hath endeavoured to excite and encourage this most useful virtue. Much hath been done; but whether it be from the heaviness of the climate, or from the Spanish or Scythian blood that runs in their veins, or whatever else may be the cause, there still remains in the natives of this island a remarkable antipathy to labour.

You, gentlemen, can alone conquer their innate, hereditary sloth. Do you, then, as you love your country, exert yourselves. Certainly, planting and tilling the earth is an exercise not less pleasing than useful; it takes the peasant from his smoky cabin into the fresh air and the open field, rendering his lot far more desirable than that of the sluggard, who lies in the straw, or sits whole days by the fire. Convince your people, that not only pleasure invites, but necessity also drives them to labour. If you have any compassion for these poor creatures, put them in mind how many of them perished in a late memorable distress, through want of that provident care against a hard season, observable not only in all other men, but even in irrational animals. Set before their eyes, in lively colours, their own indigent and sordid