of Berkeley's philosophy, his theory being that all motion centres in God, the one Great Mover of the universe. Even these abstruse reasonings, however, though carried on in conjunction with the cares of a traveller, were not sufficient to occupy his many-sided intelligence. In the same year, 1721, the period of the South Sea catastrophe, the eager Irishman, full of interest and concern in everything that affected his country, sent forth An Essay towards Preventing the Ruin of Great Britain,' which falls, with a mixture of quaint wisdom and simplicity, upon ears warped from the modesty of nature by those suggestions of political economy which were then unknown to the world. Berkeley's cure for the evils of his country is that simplest, most indubitable, and yet most impossible of cures that men should become better, wiser, and purer. "Whether the prosperity that preceded or the calamities that succeeded the South Sea project have most contributed to our undoing," he says, "is not so clear a point as it is that we are actually undone and lost to all sense of our true interest: nothing less than this could render it pardonable to have recourse to those old trite maxims concerning religion, industry, frugality, and public spirit, which are now forgotten, but, if revived and put in practice, may not only prevent our final ruin, but also render us a more happy and flourishing people than ever.' The reader folfows the argument with a certain reverential amusement, if we may use such words. This eighteenth century was the falsest and most artificial of ages, and yet what a depth of simplicity must have lain in the heart of a nation to which the philosopher could recommend, as to a primitive people, this noblest primitive remedy! Let every man become religious, modest, industrious, says the dreamer; where is the difficulty? - apart from any national crisis, is not this every

man's duty, every man's highest interest?-and all will come right. The succeeding practical suggestions are even more utopian. He thinks "if the poor-tax was fixed at a medium in every parish, taken from a calculation of the last ten years, aud raised for seven years by Act of Parliament, that sum (if the common estimate be not very wrong) frugally and prudently laid out in workhouses, would for ever free the nation from the care of providing for the poor, and at the same time considerably considerably improve our manufactures. We might, by these means, rid our streets of beggars; " he adds, in his simplicity,

even the children, the maimed, and the blind, might be put in the way of doing something for their livelihood. As for the small number of those who by age or infirmities are utterly incapable of all employment, they might be maintained by the labour of others; and the public would receive no small advantage from the industry of those who are now so great a burden and expense to it."

He

Had the philosopher lived to see the dreaded and hated workhouse of our own day, how strangely would he have been surprised by the result of his suggestions! goes on to imagine how the same tax, "continued three years longer," might set our roads in order and render our rivers navigable; "so that in the space of ten years the public may be for ever freed from a heavy tax, industry encouraged, commerce facilitated, and the whole country improved"! Our genial reformer next proceeds to suggest

some reward or privilege to those who have a certain number of children," and that the public should "inherit half the unentailed estates of all who die unmarried of either sex"! Taxes upon "dead bachelors" he holds, with a delightful scorn of the creature, to be "in no sort grievous to the subject"! Nor does he let women altogether escape, though touching that chapter with

a light hand, like the gallant gentleman he was. He would have sumptuary laws, restraining "the luxury of dress which giveth a light behaviour to our women." He would have order taken with public amusements, the drama reformed, the masquerade abolished. He would have "a pillar of infamy" to mark the memory of the swindler with an odious immortality. He would have a แ parliament house, courts of justice, royal palace, and other public edifices built" suitable to the dignity of the nation, with decorations of pictures and statues, in order "to transmit memorable things and persons to posterity," to spirit up new arts, employ many hands, and keep money circulating at home; though this project, he fears, would "be laughed at as a vain affair, of great expense and little use to the public." Last of all, he would encourage public spirit by "erecting an academy of ingenious men, whose employment it would be to compile the history of Great Britain, to make discourses proper to inspire men with a zeal for the public, and celebrate the memories of those who have been ornaments to the nation, or done it eminent service. Not to mention," he adds, with the quaint humour which now and then breaks in upon his grave argument, "that this would improve our language, and amuse certain busy spirits of the age, which, perhaps, would be no ill policy."

This essay holds no such important place among Berkeley's works as we give it here; and yet we know nothing which more illustrates the spirit of the man. Bits of true wisdom are in it, with interminglings of that fantastic theorising of which a "thinker" so called, seldom shakes himself absolutely free when he takes to planning for the good of the outside world; yet how different, even in his most fantastic moment, how modest and sober, is our Idealist in comparison with most intellectual dreamers! He was in London

at the time the essay was written, seeing around him on every side the consequences of the national madness. And yet he was in very fine company, and made much of in the brilliant world when he reappeared from time to time bringing tidings with him, as it were, from the ends of the earth. One of the places where he is most visible to us at this distance is in the little philosophical parties which gathered round the Princess of Wales in her opposition Court in Leicester Fields. She gave the philosophers one evening in the week, and found recreation in their learned talk. "Of this company were Dr. Clarke, Hoadley, Berkeley, and Sherlock. Clarke and Berkeley were generally considered the principals in the debates that arose on these occasions; and Hoadley adhered to the former, as Sherlock did to the latter." Thus they discussed and rediscussedCaroline, with her bright eyes, looking on, with the ready interest and keen wit which distinguished her. To such a little oasis of brightness and social enjoyment our wandering philosopher comes by times, gleaming out suddenly into the midst of the wit and the embroidery. But it never seems to have had the fascination for him that it had for Swift, nor did his lingering advancement and the unproductive character of royal friendship embitter the sweeter temper and gayer heart of Berkeley. He went back to Ireland in 1721, as chaplain to the LordLieutenant, without any apparent reluctance to leave the society even of Leicester Fields, and found there fortune and preferment awaiting him of which, probably, he had never dreamed.

The fortune came in the most curious way from a woman unhappily too well known to the worldthe hapless and foolish creature whom Swift's love and indifference drove to distraction and death. Poor Vanessa, tragical, self-willed, despairing woman, had seen young Berkeley with her terrible hero in

1713, when she was at home and all was well with her; and in the rage and anguish of her deathbed, the unfortunate soul bethought herself of the young man who seems to have touched all the world with a feeling of his goodness. She left her whole fortune-wildly indifferent to her own kindred, wildly indignant with the man on whom she would fain have bestowed it-to be divided between Berkeley and another of her friends, though it was years since she had met the philosopher, and there seems to have been no special friendship between them. His share amounted to about £4000- no inconsiderable matter for a man without fortune. This curious incident does not seem to have made any breach in the friendship between himself and Swift, which is remarkable enough. A year or two later the preferment came in the substantial shape of the deanery of Derry, which was worth £1100 a-year. By this time Berkeley was forty-not the most adventurous of ages. After long waiting, he had at length attained such a climax of his temporal hopes as justified him in marrying and settling, as people say. Marry he did after a while, but the idea of "settling" was far from having any place in his mind. Not quite six months after his appointment to the deanery we find him once more setting out for England with the strangest errand. Not philosophy this time, which in most previous cases had been found quite compatible with the strictest regard to a man's private interest. On the contrary, it was Quixotism of the wildest description, such as never philosopher had been known to be guilty of before. An idea had seized upon his busy brain more dangerous than any onslaught upon matter. It had occurred to him some fine day, no one knows how in the learned babble of Leicester Fields perhaps, or on the Italian hills, or amid the salt spray on the shores of his own island-to think

VOL. CV.-NO. DOXXXIX.

of certain ignorant savages far away over the seas, where a new English empire seemed forming on the shores of America. America itself was hidden in the mists of the future, and no premonition warned Dean Berkeley of that immeasurable Yankee nation which was so soon to come into being. It was "a scheme for converting the savage Americans to Christianity" that began to work in his teeming brain. The unhappy Red men, so dwindled, so miserable and hopeless, bore an interest then which it seems now strange to contemplate. Nobody knew how they were to be swallowed up and pushed out of their places; and men had already dimly opened their eyes to the value of that great continent as a place big enough and rich enough to supply room for the overflowings of the mother country, however vast these overflowings might be. And in this case, how important was it to conciliate, and cultivate, and Christianise the native race! To be sure there were but two things to do that, or exterminate them; and extermination had not dawned upon any mind as the preferable alternative as yet. Accordingly, the new Dean is scarce warm in his seat before this idea, howso ever conceived or suggested, begins to work so strongly in him that he cannot rest. Derry and £1100 a-year, and all the advantages of place and position, become as nothing in comparison with those savage Americans. Yet there is a certain statesmanlike calm even in his fervour. It is no wild solitary expedition on which he longs to set out. His scheme is to carry a staff with him-to go accompanied with his brotherhood, a colony of evangelists. Their work was to be done by means of "a college to be erected in the Summer Islands, otherwise called the Isles of Bermuda." In 1725 he published his plan for this expedition. He himself was to resign his appointment and become head of the college on the magnificent stipend of a hun

B

dred pounds a-year; and his eloquence and enthusiasm had so won upon his friends, that no less than three young Fellows of his University declared themselves willing to accompany him, abandoning all their prospects. To gain an endowment for this college, Berkeley set out in the end of $24, armed with all the recommendations his friends could give him, to men powerful in Church and State. Here is one of these commendatory letters, which not only throws the vivid light of personal revelation upon Berkeley, but reveals out of the darkness, in one of his softest moments, a tragical figure, still more remarkable and universally known than himself. The letter is addressed to Lord Carteret, then Lieutenant of Ireland, and it is Swift who writes:

"3d of September 1724.-There is a gentleman of this kingdom just gone for England-it is Dr. George Berkeley, Dean of Derry, the best preferment among us, being worth about £1100 a-year. He takes the Bath in his way to London, and will of course attend your Excellency, and be presented, I suppose, by his friend, my Lord Burlington; and because I believe you will choose out some very idle minutes to read this letter, perhaps you may not be ill en

tertained with some account of the man

and his errand. He was a Fellow in the University here, and, going to England very young, about thirteen years ago, he became the founder of a sect there

called the Immaterialists, by the force of a very curious book on that subject. Dr. Smalridge and many other emiment persons were his proselytes. I sent him secretary and chaplain to Sicily with my Lord Peterborough; and upon his Lordship's return, Dr. Berkeley spent above seven years in travelling over most parts of Europe, but chiefly through every corner of Italy, Sicily, and other islands. When he came back to England he found so many friends that he was effectually recommended to the Duke of Grafton, by whom he was lately made Dean of Derry. Your Excellency will be frightened when I tell you all this is but an introduction, for I am now to mention his errand. He is an absolute philosopher with regard to money, titles, and

power, and for three years past hath been struck with a notion of founding a University at Bermuda, by a charter from the Crown. He has seduced several of the hopefullest young clergymen and others here, many of them well provided for, and all of them in the fairest way of preferment; but in England his conquests are greater, and I doubt will spread very far this winter. He showed me a little tract which he designs to publish, and there your Excellency will see his whole scheme of a life academic-philosophic of a college founded for Indian scholars and missionaries, where he most exorbitantly proposeth a whole hundred pound ayear for himself, forty pounds for a fellow, and ten for a student. His heart will break if his deanery be not taken from him and left at your Excellency's disposal. I discourage him by the coldness of courts and ministers, who will interpret all this as impossible and a vision, but nothing will do. therefore I do humbly entreat your Excellency either to use such persuasions as will keep one of the first men in this kingdom for learning and virtue quiet at home, or assist him by your credit to compass his romantic design, which, however, is very noble and generous, and directly proper for a great person of your excellent education to encourage."

And

Berkeley's pamphlet, which was published early in the ensuing year, sets forth at length all the necessity and advantage of this wonderful scheme. He begins by lamenting "that there is at this day little sense of religion, and a most notorious corruption of manners in the English colonies settled on the continent of America and the islands," and that "the Gospel hath hitherto made but a very inconsiderable progress among the neighbouring Americans, who still continue in much the same ignorance and barbarism in which we found them above a hundred years ago." After sumof affairs, one of which he describes ming up the causes of this condition as the mean qualifications, both in learning and morals, of the clergy, who are, in many cases, "the very dregs and refuse" of the Church, he propounds his plana plan which has been adopted in recent