recover a number of hitherto unpublished manuscripts which are of considerable biographical service. This is especially true of the Diary of Foreign Travel and the Commonplace Book which the editor has discovered amongst the Berkeley manuscripts. While all the papers have some interest, this latter volume has a peculiar value, as it contains Berkeley's rough notes of the facts and arguments to be used in the New Theory of Vision,' and in the elaboration of his ideal system. All the main arguments of these works are to be found in the hasty jottings of his early college days, and they often appear with special vividness and force from being as it were direct transcripts of the thoughts as they first struck his own mind. The Commonplace Book is thus of the highest service in enabling us to trace the growth and progress of his system as it was gradually evolved out of one or two central principles.

Little is definitely known about Berkeley's earlier years beyond the fact that he was born in March 1685, in one of the most beautiful districts of the south of Ireland, near Dysart Castle, about twelve miles from the city of Kilkenny. The old castle, with the connected modern building in which Berkeley's childhood was passed, is finely situated in a wooded valley watered by the sparkling Nore. The picturesque sweep and sylvan quietude of this green valley, broken only by the dash and ripple of the winding river, was the very spot to quicken and develope the keen sensibility to natural beauty which Berkeley possessed, as well as to gratify the love of its soothing meditative influences which remained with him to the end of life. Here the ardent boy indulged his juvenile daydreams, fed to the full his romantic passion for solitary communion with nature and his own thoughts, and formed from the materials of childish reading, observation, and reflection, his earliest ideal world. He was fortunate in being early sent to one of the best schools in Ireland-the Grammar School or College of Kilkenny, long celebrated for its excellent masters and the many eminent pupils it sent into the world. The old school-house of this Eton of Ireland,' a curious half-monastic building, three stories high, with massive iron-studded oak doors and quaint chimneys, gables, and gurgoyles, had a large rambling garden and meadow at the back, leading down to the Nore, and commanded by the ancient castle of the Ormonds on the opposite bank. From these College grounds there is a fine view of the adjacent city rising in castellated power and cathedral dignity above the river and the bridge, and awakening in the travelled spectator's mind blended recollections of Warwick, Oxford, and Windsor. The scene and circumstances

of his early training were thus of a kind to impress deeply on Berkeley's mind the charm of collegiate activity and repose, the academic partialities, the strong institutional sympathies and associations, which his whole after life proved it was peculiarly fitted to receive and retain. Dr. Hinton, the head-master of Kilkenny School, was an excellent tutor, and young Berkeley, during the four years of his residence there, must have made good progress, and reached the foremost place in the schoolranks before he left. He was evidently a precocious pupil, who came up thoroughly well prepared; as the college register shows that, although only eleven years of age, he entered at once the second class, instead of taking his place on the lower forms of the school, as most boys, even much older, were accustomed to do. His companion and friend Prior, though more than three years his senior, was placed in one of the lower classes on entering the school.

What young Berkeley's habits and pursuits at the old Kilkenny School were, we have no means of knowing in any detail. But two or three autobiographical fragments in the Commonplace Book throw some light on his characteristic turn of thought and tendency of mind, even at this early period. Slight as they are, these hints furnished by himself are peculiarly significant and instructive. The first of the personal entries occurs immediately after a reference to the reasonings of Locke and Malebranche about the primary and secondary properties of body. Having briefly noticed these, and dwelt at greater length on some disputed questions in recent mathematical works, he adds: Mem. That I was 'distrustful at eight years old, and consequently by nature 'disposed for these new doctrines.' This must be understood to mean that even in his earlier years he was of an inquiring turn of mind, not given to take things on trust, but disposed to investigate for himself, and have notions and ideas of his own. Even at school he had his juvenile schemes, his youthful Utopias and ideals, often, no doubt, of a romantic and extreme kind; and the second personal reference, found amongst his hasty jottings, tends to show that even then, instead of being content to keep these ideals to himself, he was compelled by an irresistible prompting of nature to communicate them to others, and seek to gain them over to his views. In this autobiographical note he says: 'He that would bring another over to his opinion must seem to harmonise with him at 'first, and humour him in his own way of talking. From my 'childhood, I had an unaccountable turn of thought that way.' This is an exquisite touch of rare self-knowledge. It describes

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with perfect accuracy Berkeley's eager desire for influence over others, and his intuitive perception of the arts by which it is secured. The reference indicates, moreover, a shrewdness of social insight and aptitude for persuasive speech which is thoroughly Irish. In this delightfully Celtic account of the true way of winning another to your opinion, we see depicted the future author of The Principles of Human Knowledge,' and of the Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous.' In all literature, it would be difficult to find a more extreme illustration of the art of humouring an opponent in his own way of talking than is supplied by these works. We need only refer to Berkeley's reiterated and almost desperate attempts to show that his central principle as to the non-existence of external objects is in perfect harmony with vulgar opinion and belief. Well might his critics say that in these attempts he somewhat severely strained both his own positions and the vulgar belief in order to give them the faintest colouring of agreement.

But Berkeley's dexterity in the use of this rhetorical artifice was evidently the result of long and early practice. From his childhood he had evinced an unaccountable turn that way. He had no doubt tried his powers of persuasive speech in defending many a juvenile paradox, first among the family circle at Dysart Castle, and then with his companions at the old Kilkenny College. And we may be sure that, however startling or extreme the notion that absorbed his mind might be, the boy's argumentative keenness and rhetorical skill would give it plausibility enough to impress his youthful companions. Nay, the novelty of the opinion, and the enthusiastic confidence displayed in its defence, are the very qualities best fitted to strike the imagination and win the support of eager and generous youthful minds. The combination of intellectual freshness and moral intrepidity, the union of uncommon thoughts with resolute yet conciliatory zeal in their exposition and defence, is indeed very much the secret of Berkeley's strong personal influence in after life. But it is clear this influence made itself felt even at school. In those early days, his ardent nature, logical dexterity, and persuasive tongue had secured him a following, and one of his boyish followers remained a devoted adherent to the end of life. This was Thomas Prior, the dear Tom' of Berkeley's extensive correspondence from London and the Continent. The lifelong friendship with Prior evidently began at school, and we may safely conclude from their subsequent relations that, although Prior was three years older, he soon fell completely under Berkeley's influence, and came to regard him as a kind

of superior being. Prior was himself a man of good family and independent fortune, of considerable intelligence, culture, and public spirit, who, after settling in Dublin, took for many years an active part in the political and scientific movements of the time. But he was wholly unable to resist the fascination of Berkeley's mind and manner, and the correspondence shows the complete command which the latter had acquired over him. Berkeley often indeed writes to him in a tone of authority, as though he were addressing a younger relative, an agent or dependent even, rather than an equal and a friend. And Prior cordially accepts the relation, and is glad to become Berkeley's humble servant, and promptly do his bidding, in any matter, great or small. Prior's steadfast devotion is one of the earliest and most striking examples of the extraordinary personal influence Berkeley exercised over almost all who were brought into immediate association with him.

At the age of fifteen, Berkeley left the old Kilkenny School and the pleasant banks of the Nore for Trinity College, Dublin, where he was matriculated in March 1700. He remained at Trinity College thirteen years, first as scholar and undergraduate, then as Fellow and tutor, absorbed in his own pursuits, and enjoying the learned leisure and academical associations in which his ardent and studious nature found so exquisite a charm. The years thus spent cover the whole period of his strictly philosophical life and labours. The strong metaphysical impulse he received in the early years of his college course, after kindling all the energies of his mind to a pitch of concentrated and sustained enthusiasm, seems to have worked itself out by the time he left for London in 1713. During the closing years of this period were published the three works by which alone Berkeley ranks as a psychologist and metaphysician. In later years, indeed, he produced a number of treatises on ethical, mathematical, and political subjects, but, excepting the last, almost the only references to philosophy proper they contain are repetitions of what had been better said in his early works. The most important of these The 'Principles of Human Knowledge'-was, indeed, published as a first part, and the author's notes and writings contain allusions to a second and third part, to be afterwards issued in order to complete the original plan of the work. But these parts never appeared, and there is nothing to show that Berkeley ever attempted to complete the original scheme. No fragment in the way of preparation for the other parts is found amongst the Berkeley papers. The truth appears to be that, subsequently to the publication of the dialogues between Hylas

and Philonous, the philosophical fervour of his early youth passed away never to return, except in a feebler form, as a kind of after-glow, towards the close of life. That he should have produced his philosophical works while still almost a student, is certainly a marvellous proof of Berkeley's precocity as a thinker. The first, and, in some respects, the best- The New Theory of Vision '-appeared when he was only twentyfour, the second a year later, and the last after an interval of three years. All were published before he was twenty-nine, and his philosophical career may be said to have virtually closed before he reached the age of thirty. This sufficiently shows that philosophy, the pursuit of rational truth, was an accident and episode rather than the motive and object of his life.

We know very little of Berkeley's habits while a student at Trinity College, but one or two of the more authentic traditions of his behaviour illustrate his absorption in his own conceptions, and his somewhat impulsive tendency to realise any ideal that possessed his mind or powerfully affected his imagination. In his walks he seems to have had an air of unconscious abstraction or rapt self-communion, so marked as to excite notice and give him a reputation for eccentricity. 'Ordinary people,' it is said, did not understand him, and laughed at him. Soon after his entrance, he began to be 'looked at as either the greatest genius or the greatest dunce in college. Those who were slightly acquainted with him took him for a fool; but those who shared his intimate friend'ship thought him a prodigy of learning and goodness of heart.' The vulgar judgment thus pronounced on the behaviour of the young philosopher was a kind of rude anticipation of the varying historical judgment pronounced on his works. Those who are slightly acquainted with them often look on their author as little better than a fool or a fanatic, while those who, yielding to the charm of his style, have become denizens of Berkeley's philosophical household, regard him as amongst the greatest of philosophers and wisest of men. Another tradition connecting him with Goldsmith's uncle Conterini, brings into prominent relief the realistic tendency of his mind, his disposition, without much forethought or calculation of results, to carry into execution any scheme or fancy that for the moment excited him. According to the story, curiosity had on one occasion led him to go and witness an execution. 'He ' returned pensive and melancholy, but inquisitive about the 'sensations experienced by the criminal in the crisis of his fate. He informed Conterini of his eccentric curiosity. It was agreed between them that he should himself try the