N the choice of the subject which I have selected for this address, I do not think I have been unduly influenced by associations which invest the name of Berkeley with a peculiar interest to me. If I rightly understand the object of these lectures, it will be best attained by making them suggestive. I am not vain enough to believe that it is possible for me to convey instruction, in the ordinary sense, to an audience like this. It is, I believe, possible to make these occasions interesting and useful, by directing attention to portions of the field of literature which are not generally, or at least not familiarly, known. Each of us can thus bring, from the sources of his own reading or his own thought, some slight contribution to the materials of that intellectual inquiry which it is the object of these afternoon lectures to promote.

For such a purpose as this it would not be easy to find a subject better suited than that which I have chosen. Few men have added more than Bishop Berkeley to the fame of our University and our country. In spite of all the ridicule which has been directed

against that which has been called the paradox of his ideal theory, his reputation as a philosopher and a thinker is established wherever men employ themselves in investigating the science of the human mind. In the century which has passed since his death that reputation has grown and increased, and we point to him with pride as one of those who vindicate for Ireland a high place in the annals of intellectual distinction. Yet little, very little, is known of him among ourselves; and even in an assembly like this, I presume to say I am addressing many whose opinion of him has been chiefly formed from the lines of Byron :—

"When Bishop Berkeley said there was no matter,

And proved it, 'twas no matter what he said;"

and who expect that a discourse upon his character and writings must be little else than a narrative of the wild unrealities of a speculative dreamer. I shall, perhaps, have fulfilled that which I have said to be the object of such a lecture, if, in the rapid and imperfect sketch of this great philosopher which its compass admits, I can suggest that in his writings you will find more, much more, than the mere sophisms of an ingenious puzzle. Without involving you in the subtleties of metaphysical inquiry, I may be able to satisfy you that the reputation he has borne is not undeserved; and that in his life and character you will find, if not sufficient to justify the extravagant eulogium of Pope, which gave

"To Berkeley every virtue under heaven,"

yet more than enough to make good the opinion of his contemporaries, who saw in him the union of great in

tellectual qualities, with high moral virtues,—an opinion which has come down to us in the appellation which described him as "the great and good Bishop of Cloyne."

The task I have assigned to myself is not an easy one. I cannot present to you the intellectual, indeed the moral, character of Berkeley without some attempt at explaining the peculiar views with which his name has been associated. I am conscious of the difficulty of doing so without wandering far beyond the limits of a lecture such as this. I can only hope for your indulgence when I ask you to accept what I say, as an attempt, however imperfect, to offer a tribute to the memory of a great man in whom our country feels a just and honourable pride.

In common opinion Bishop Berkeley is best known in connection with that celebrated theory which denies the existence of any material world. In philosophic circles his fame rests upon his "new theory of vision," in which he is supposed to have made the discovery that the ideas we derive from sight and touch are wholly unlike each other, and that our inference of either distance or extension from the form presented to the eye is, in reality, a judgment of the mind, correcting our visual perceptions by the experience we derive from the sense of touch. This theory of vision has been, I might say, almost universally accepted, while his theory of non-existence of matter has been as generally rejected; yet, in the mind of Berkeley, they were intimately connected, and it may be that, in strict reasoning, they are distinct.

not very

His theory of vision was first given to the world in 1709, in a work entitled, "An Essay towards a New Theory of Vision." Twenty-four years afterwards he defended his theory in a tract* which is not published in any collected edition of his works, but which has been reproduced within the last few years by the pious care of an Englishman. In 1710 he published that which (adopting the usual, though inaccurate, designation) I may call his immaterial theory. He did so in

a work entitled, “The Principles of Human Knowledge." This argument was supplemented a few years afterwards, in "Dialogues between Philonous and Hylas," a mode of stating his opinions of which Berkeley was particularly fond. Upon these essays rests his character as the originator of the system of mental philosophy which has borne his name.

Perhaps, indeed, I ought to add to these the essays in which he proved that mathematical doctrines do not rest on axioms of absolute certainty, but involve a belief in mysteries and an assumption of metaphysical contradictions. These mathematical tracts pursue a train of thought not wholly unconnected with his views as to the existence of the material world.

The most generally read of all his writings was one entitled, "The Minute Philosopher," a series of dialogues discussing the objections raised by infidels to the Christian revelation. "The resemblance of these

"The Theory of Vision Vindicated and Explained. By the Right Reverend G. Berkeley, D. D., Lord Bishop of Cloyne. Edited, with annotations, by H. V. H. Cowell, Associate of King's College, London. Macmillan and Co., 1860."