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MACMILLAN    AND   CO.,    LIMITED 

LONDON    •     UOMI1AY    •    CALCUTTA    •    MAUKAS 
MELBOURNE 

THE    MACMILLAN    COMPANY 

NEW   YORK    •     BOSTON    •    CHICAGO 
DALLAS    •     SAN    FRANCISCO 

THE   MACMILLAN    CO.    OF   CANADA,    LTD. 


THE 

DEVELOPMENT  OF 
BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 


BY 


G.  A.  JOHNSTON,  M.A.,  D.PHIL. 

SOMETIME    LECTURER    IN    MORAL    PHILOSOPHY   IN    THE    UNIVERSITIES   OF 
ST.    ANDREWS    AND    GLASGOW 


MACMILLAN    AND    CO.,    LIMITED 

ST.    MARTIN'S    STREET,    LONDON 

1923 


Cop.  3 


588933 


COPYRIGHT 


PRINTED   IN   GREAT  BRITAIN 


PEEFACE 

No  apology  would  seem  to  be  required  for  an  attempt 
to  examine  the  historical  development  of  Berkeley's 
philosophy  as  a  whole.  In  this  book  I  have  tried 
to  throw  light  on  the  evolution  of  Berkeley's 
thought  by  a  careful  study  of  his  works  in  their 
chronological  sequence  and  by  detailed  reference 
to  his  relations  with  his  predecessors  and  con 
temporaries.  I  have  naturally  devoted  most 
attention  to  what  is  central  in  Berkeley's  philo 
sophy — his  metaphysics  and  theory  of  knowledge, — 
but  I  have  not  neglected  the  other  problems  that 
were  touched  by  his  wide-roving  mind. 

Every  student  of  Berkeley  owes  a  debt  of  enduring 
gratitude  to  the  careful  and  loving  work  of  Campbell 
Fraser.  In  addition  to  his  indispensable  commen 
taries  and  memoirs,  I  have  sought  help  from  every 
source  that  seemed  likely  to  afford  it.  In  general, 
however,  I  have  found  Berkeley  to  be  his  own  best 
interpreter. 


vi  PREFACE 

This  book  contains  the  substance  of  the  Shaw 
Fellowship  Lectures  which  I  had  the  privilege 
of  delivering  in  the  University  of  Edinburgh  in 
1920. 


G.  A.  JOHNSTON. 


GENEVA, 
August,  1923. 


CONTENTS 


I.  INTRODUCTORY  :     BERKELEY'S    SIGNIFICANCE    FOR 
PHILOSOPHY       ------- 

II.  THE  ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT 

I.   Philosophical  and  Religious  Environment     • 
II.  The  Commonplace  Book 
in.   The  Influence  of  Locke 
iv.  The  Influence  of  Cartesianism 
v.  Mathematics  in  the  Commonplace  Book 

III.  THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  VISION  - 

IV.  METAPHYSICS  AND  THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

I.  The  Possibility  of  Knowledge 
ii.  Knowledge  and  its  Objects  - 
vin.  The  Existence  of  Things 
XIV-  The  Existence  of  Spirits     _^  .. 
^  v.  Causation      - 
vi.  Motion,  Space  and  Time 
vii.  Siris  :  the  Closing  Phase 

V.  MATHEMATICS  -         -         -         -         - 
VI.  ETHICS    - 

VII.  PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION 
APPENDIX     I.  BERKELEY'S  RELATION  TO  COLLIER  - 
APPENDIX  II.  JOHN  SERGEANT         ..... 


INDEX 


12 

18 
32 

67 
75 

94 

117 
142- — 

193 

226 

246   \]V\ 

261 

282 

319  U 

360 

383 

397 


vii 


CHAPTER  I 

INTRODUCTORY:    BERKELEY'S  SIGNIFICANCE 
FOR  PHILOSOPHY 

THE  early  eighteenth  century,  with  all  its  wealth  of 
versatility,  possessed  no  one  who  touched  its  life  at 
more  points  than  Berkeley.  But  though  he  was 
intimately  connected  with  almost  every  department 
of  the  life  and  thought  of  his  time,  it  is  for  his  philo 
sophy  that  he  is,  and  deserves  to  be,  chiefly  remem 
bered.  His  reputation  does  not,  however,  rest 
equally  on  every  part  of  his  philosophy.  The  three 
great  philosophical  problems  with  which  the 
eighteenth  century  concerned  itself  were  those  of 
knowledge,  morality  and  religion.  Berkeley  tra 
versed  the  whole  of  this  field  of  contemporary 
speculation,  and  to  the  study  of  all  its  problems  he 
made  worthy  contributions  ;  but  his  philosophical 
significance  depends  almost  wholly  upon  his  treat 
ment  of  the  problem  of  knowledge. 

In  spite  of  Berkeley's  originality  of  thought  and 
unconventionality  of  life  he  remains  the  entirely 
typical  English  philosopher.  English  philosophers 
in  general,  and  its  five  greatest  representatives  in 
particular,  display  three  well-marked  characteristics. 
A  survey  of  the  work  of  Bacon,  Hobbes,  Locke, 

P.P.  A 


2  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Berkeley  and  Hume  shows  that  (1)  their  interest  in 
philosophy  is  predominantly  practical,  (2)  their  in 
quiries  are  prevailingly  epistemological  in  character, 
and  (3)  the  general  method  they  adopt  is  psychological 
and  inductive.  These  three  features  are  more  or 
less  characteristic  of  English  philosophy  as  a  whole. 
But  they  are  specially  prominent  in  Berkeley. 

(1)  Berkeley  entirely  agrees  with  Bacon  that 
"  knowledge  is  power,"  and  that  its  end  is  "  the 
improvement  of  man's  estate."  This  does  not,  of 
course,  mean  that  he  minimises  the  importance  of 
the  theoretical  interest.  In  his  view,  the  conduct 
of  the  understanding  does  not  yield  in  importance 
to  the  conduct  of  life  ;  and,  indeed,  he  has  a  great 
deal  more  to  say  about  knowledge  than  about 
practice.  But  the  value  of  knowledge  does  not  end 
in  itself  ;  it  is  value  for  something,  power  to  produce 
something.  He  never  allows  us  to  forget  that  all 
his  writings  are  dominated  by  a  double  practical 
aim.  "  The  new  principle  "  will,  in  the  first  place, 
"  abridge  the  labour  of  study,"  and  render  the  natural 
sciences  and  mathematics  more  compendious  and 
useful ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  by  making  manifest 
the  nearness  and  omnipresence  of  God,  it  will  exercise 
a  profound  influence  for  good  in  the  world.  This 
twofold  purpose  animates  every  page  of  Berkeley's 
work ;  "  the  whole,"  he  says,  is  "  directed  to 
practice."  1 

But  Berkeley's  practical  spirit  went  further 
than  this.  And  here  also  he  is  typical  of  English 
philosophy.  For  it  is  characteristic  of  the  philo- 

1  Works,  i.  92.  (All  references  are  to  the  Oxford  Edition  of 
Berkeley's  works  in  4  vols.  1901.) 


INTRODUCTORY  3 

sophy  of  England,  more  than  that  of  any  other 
country,  that  its  chief  representatives  have  been 
not  academic  savants  but  men  of  affairs.  Not  to 
mention  others,  all  the  great  men  already  named 
took  a  prominent  and  honourable  place  in  the  public 
life  of  their  time.  Now5  though  for  many  years 
Berkeley  was  connected  with  Trinity  College, 
Dublin,  his  life  was  not  that  of  a  University  teacher. 
Associating  with  the  wits  of  a  brilliant  London, 
denouncing  free-thinking  in  the  Guardian,  acting  as 
chaplain  to  an  embassy,  exploring  Sicily  to  discover 
the  cause  of  its  volcanoes,  writing  an  Essay  towards 
preventing  the  ruin  of  Great  Britain,  inspiring  London, 
in  an  age  when  an  enthusiast  was  considered  either 
a  knave  or  a  fool,  with  the  romantic  missionary 
project  of  a  college  in  Bermuda,  sailing  to  America 
in  a  "  hired  ship  of  250  tons,"  farming  and  preaching 
and  waiting  in  Rhode  Island  for  the  fulfilment  of 
Walpole's  promise  of  Government  assistance  for  his 
college,  and  in  the  evening  of  his  days  as  Bishop  of 
Cloyne  caring  for  his  people's  souls,  healing  their 
bodies  with  tar-water,  and  castigating  their  idleness 
in  the  Querist — such,  in  some  of  the  aspects  of  his 
varied  life,  was  George  Berkeley.  Through  all  the 
vicissitudes  of  this  eventful  life  his  practical  interests 
were  supreme. 

(2)  Berkeley  also  agrees  with  the  prevailing 
tendency  of  English  thought  in  basing  his  philosophy 
directly  on  experience,  and  in  attending  specially 
to  psychological  and  epistemological  questions  of 
the  relation  between  the  mind  and  the  world  of 
nature.  With  regard  to  the  problem  to  be  solved 
and  the  point  of  departure  he  is  at  one  with  Locke. 


4  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Both  start  with  experience,  and  both  follow  "  the 
new  way  of  ideas."  .Along  that  way,  however, 
Berkeley  went  a  step  further  than  Locke  ;  and  it  is, 
in  one  respect,  his  chief  historical  significance  that 
he  formed  a  link  in  the  chain  of  reasoning  which 
terminated  in  Hume's  scepticism.  /Berkeley  accepts 
Locke's  doctrine  that  the  object  of  thought  is  an  idea, 
but,  denying  that  this  idea  is  a  copy  of  an  external 
thing,  he  maintains  that,  as  we  cannot  know  material 
reality  either  by  way  of  ideas  or  by  perception  of  its 
effects,  so-called  material  substances  and  material 
causes  are  simply  non-existent.  Instead  of  material 
substance  and  material  cause  Berkeley  posits  spiri 
tual  substance  and  spiritual  cause  ;  and  thus  his 
universe  consists  of  spirits,  substantive^and  causal, 
and  ideas,  inert,  unitary  and  dependent^  Hume  has 
only  a  single  step  to  take  to  reach  his  sceptical 
conclusion.  The  same  arguments,  he  insists,  can 
be  advanced  against  Berkeley's  spiritual  substance 
and  spiritual  cause  as  Berkeley  had  brought  against 
Locke's  material  substance  and  material  cause  :  if 
spiritual  substance  be  simply  an  indefinable  "  some 
thing,"  we  have  no  more  ground  for  maintaining  its 
existence  than  Locke  has  for  his  material  "  some 
what." 

Now,  from  one  standpoint,  this  is  Berkeley's  place 
in  the  history  of  English  philosophy.  But  it  is  not 
a  complete  account  of  his  philosophical  significance. 
It  is  a  great  mistake  to  say,  as  Green  does,  that 
Berkeley  is  "  merely  Locke  purged."  For  the  most 
suggestive  part  of  Berkeley's  doctrine  is  not  his 
criticism  of  Locke,  but  his  positive  theory  of  spirit. 
And  that  doctrine  cannot  really  be  overthrown  by 


INTRODUCTORY  5 

the  same  arguments  as  proved  fatal  to  Locke's 
material  substance,  for  Berkeley  insists  that  we  can 
know  spirit — though  we  do  not  perceive  it  as  an 
idea,  we  have  a  notion  of  it,  and  know  it  to  be  active. 
Now,  his  insistence  on  the  reality  of  mind  or  spirit 
is  of  the  first  importance.  Locke,  indeed,  had  not 
denied  the  existence  of  mind,  but  he  did  not  fully 
realise  its  indispensability  for  knowledge.  And 
Berkeley  was,  in  fact,  the  first  modern  philosopher 
to  discover  the  importance  of  the  thinking  subject 
in  knowledge.  Whereas  previous  philosophy  had, 
in  general,  been  content  to  regard  mind  as  dependent 
for  its  knowledge  on  the  external  world,  Berkeley 
made  a  veritable  Copernican  change,  and  insisted 
that  the  so-called  external  world  depends  for  its 
existence  on  the  mind.  Thus  mind  or  spirit  becomes 
the  most  important  thing  in  the  world.  /Reality  is 
primarily  spiritual,  and  the  existence  of  the  physical 
universe  is  mind-dependent.. 

But  Berkeley  was  in  advance  of  the  process  of 
thought,  and  it  was  left  to  Kant,  after  the  depths 
of  scepticism  had  been  sounded  by  Hume,  to  rein 
state  the  self  in  a  more  secure  position  than  it 
occupied  in  Berkeley's  system.  For  Berkeley  had 
allowed  two  great  lacunae  to  remain  in  his  doctrine. 
He  left  side  by  side  two  kinds  of  knowledge,  (1) 
knowledge  of  ideas,  and  (2)  knowledge  of  spirits  by 
way  of  notions  ;  and  until  Siris  he  made  no  attempt 
to  bring  these  two  kinds  of  knowledge  into  any 
system.  But  in  that  work  he  points  out  the  neces 
sary  interconnection  of  perceptions  and  conceptions  ; 
and,  in  terms  that  remind  us  of  Kant,  insists  that  as 
understanding  alone  cannot  perceive,  so  sense  alone 


6  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

cannot  know,  for  all  real  knowledge  requires  the 
concurrence  of  both  ways  of  knowing.  But  this 
view  was  never  worked  out.  The  other  great  defect 
in  his  theory  is  his  failure  to  give  any  account  of 
relations.  He  does,  indeed,  once  or  twice  mention 
relations  as  involving  mental  activity,  but  such 
suggestions  do  not  amount  to  a  serious  attempt  to 
deal  with  the  problem.  Berkeley  explicitly  holds 
that  things  can  be  known  apart  from  their  relations, 
and,  though  he  insists  on  the  uniformity  of  experience 
and  the  systematic  and  harmonious  nature  of  the 
world,  he  maintains  that  no  necessary  connection 
subsists  between  the  particulars  which  constitute 
the  physical  order. 

To  psychology  Berkeley  made  contributions  which 
were  of  the  first  importance  for  the  development  of 
that  science.  Mill,  in  a  burst  of  generous  enthusiasm, 
attributes  to  him  "  three  first  rate  philosophical 
discoveries,  each  sufficient  to  have  constituted  a 
revolution  in  psychology,  and  which  by  their  com 
bination  have  determined  the  whole  course  of 
subsequent  philosophical  speculation  ;  discoveries, 
too,  which  were  not,  like  the  achievements  of  many 
other  distinguished  thinkers,  merely  refutations  of 
error,  but  were  this  and  much  more  also  ;  being  all 
of  them  entitled  to  a  permanent  place  among 
positive  truths."  1  The  three  doctrines  on  which 
Mill  bestows  such  praise  are  the  theory  of  visual 
perception,  the  contention  that  we  reason  always  on 
a  particular,  and  the  theory  that  reality  consists  of 
groups  of  sensations.  How  far  these  doctrines  have 
the  right  to  be  called  "  positive  truths  "  we  shall  see 

1  Dissertations  and  Discussions,  iv.  155. 


INTRODUCTORY  7 

later  ;  but  there  can  at  least  be  no  doubt  of  the 
importance  of  their  influence  on  the  development 
of  psychology.  If  we  trace  the  growth  of  psychology, 
we  shall  find,  as  Ward  has  pointed  out,1  that  it  was 
first  unduly  objective  and  then  improperly  sub 
jective.  A  mature  psychology  will  hold  in  due 
balance  both  the  objective  and  subjective  aspects  ; 
its  fundamental  conception  will  be  experience,  in 
which  subject  and  object  are  correlated.  Now,  while 
Berkeley  properly  belongs  to  the  second  period,  he 
has  done  much  to  pave  the  way  towards  an  adequate 
psychology  of  experience.  Aristotle,  whom  Ward 
takes  as  the  representative  of  the  first  period, 
developed  his  psychology  from  a  standpoint  re 
sembling  that  of  the  modern  biologist,  and  it  was 
characteristic  of  his  work  to  contemplate  psychical 
facts  from  without,  rather  than  introspectively 
from  within.  Advancing  on  these  lines,  Aristotle 
was  unable  to  give  any  adequate  account  of  the 
unity  of  consciousness  as  the  central  feature  of  all 
psychical  acts.  In  Descartes  and  Locke  psychology 
assumed  a  more  subjective  tinge.  They  did  not, 
however,  remain  true  to  the  introspective  method 
which  they  professed.  They  introduced  meta 
physical  distinctions,  and  vitiated  their  psychology 
by  a  dualism  of  mind  and  matter.  Now,  Berkeley 
denied  the  existence  of  that  dualism,  and,  by  his 
insistence  on  the  importance  of  the  subject  within 
experience,  anticipated  the  day  when  psychology 
would  strike  the  proper  balance  between  the  sub 
jective  and  objective  elements  within  the  unity  of 
experience  as  a  whole.  To  adapt  a  Kantian  dis- 

1  "  On  the  Definition  of  Psychology,"  Br.  Jl.  Psych,  i.  4. 


8  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

tinction,  while  Descartes'  subject  in  knowledge 
performs  only  regulative  functions,  Berkeley's  subject 
is  constitutive  of  experience.  Berkeley's  significance 
really  lies  in  his  suggestion  that  both  external  and 
internal  fall  within  the  subject's  individual  experi 
ence.  But  the  importance  of  this  suggestion  (for  it 
is  nothing  more  than  a  suggestion)  was  overlooked 
by  Berkeley's  successors  ;  and  it  has  remained  for 
Ward  and  others  in  our  own  day  to  re-learn  and 
re-teach  the  lesson. 

(3)  Berkeley  did  not  distinguish  between  philo 
sophy  and  psychology.  He  believed  that  the  only 
method  of  dealing  with  the  facts  of  experience  is 
what  we  should  now  call  the  psychological.  And 
here  also  his  procedure  is  typical  of  English  philo 
sophy  in  general.  It  is  characteristic  of  English 
thought  to  assume  that  philosophy  consists  mainly 
in  an  analytical  examination  of  mental  processes.1 
We  may  say  either  that  English  philosophy  confuses 
psychology  and  philosophy,  or,  if  we  prefer,  that  its 
philosophical  method  is  exclusively  psychological. 
English  philosophy  attempts  to  satisfy  the  wonder 
in  which  philosophy  arises  by  analysing  conscious 
experience  into  its  constituent  elements.  It  seeks 
to  apply  to  conscious  experience  (what  it  calls 
"  inner  experience  ")  the  same  methods  of  observa 
tion  and  experiment,  examination  and  analysis, 
division  and  classification,  as  have  proved  useful  in 
the  natural  sciences,  the  sciences  of  "  outer  experi 
ence."  This  treatment  of  experience  gives  us,  on 
the  one  hand,  the  body  of  natural  science,  and  on 
the  other,  mental  science  or  philosophy.  The 

1  This  refers,  of  course,  to  the  traditional  English  method. 


INTRODUCTORY  9 

psychological    method    in    philosophy    involves    an  j 
examination  of  the  contents  of  the  mind,  regarded 
as  particular  facts  ;  and  on  the  results  of  its  observa 
tion  it  constructs  a  system  of  generalised  propositions 
which  form  the  body  of  philosophy. 

This  method  Berkeley  inherited  from  Locke,  and 
in  his  earlier  work  it  and  it  alone  is  employed.,  _  In 
the  New  Theory  of  Vision  -and  Pnnci/^s^JihejcyQ^y 
method  wliicTTTie  uses  is  introspection  upon  conscious 
experience.  The  person  who  introspects  is  regarded 
as  somehow  standing  apart  from  his  experience  : 
his  experience  is  for  him  a  series  of  isolated  presen 
tations,  presentative  of  nothing  outside  themselves, 
and  having  no  essential  relation  to  other  presenta 
tions. 

But  Berkeley  soon  came  to  doubt  the  validity  and 
universal  applicability  of  the  traditional  psycho 
logical  method.  One  or  two  entries  in  the  Com 
monplace  Book  show  that  even  in  those  early  days 
he  had  a  presentiment  of  the  inadequacy  of  the 
method,  and  the  impossibility  of  explaining  by  it 
the  mind  and  its  operations.  Tlie.  complete  analysis 
of  conscious  experience  which  the  method  professes 
to  supply  leaves  out  of  account  the  self  for  which 
that  experience  is.  Introspection  Hiannv^yg  only 


series  of  particular  ideas  :  it  reveals  no  permanent 
and  identical  self.  Now  Berkeley  believed  that  the 
existence  of  the  self  is  essential  to  the  constitution 
of  experience,  and  the  psychological  method  is  there 
fore  inadequate  in  so  Jar  as  it  is  unable  to  give  any 
account  of  the  self. 

In   his   later  work   he   gradually  recognised  the 
deficiencies  of  the  standpoint  and  method  with  which 


10  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

he  started.  Any  knowledge  we  get  by  this  method 
must  be  supplemented  and  corrected  with  reference 
to  a  new  way  of  knowing,  viz.  knowledge  by  way  of 
notions.  We  have  nqtions_of  the  self,  of  relations, 
and  of  mental  operations,  none  of  which  are  revealed 
to  us  by  a  psychological  analysis,  and  to  none  of 
which  have  we  any  right  if  we  proceed  solely  by  the 
psychological  method.  In  Berkeley's  middle  period 
knowledge  of  ideas  and  knowledge  of  notions  were 
allowed  to  remain  side  by  side  as  two  isolated  and 
distinct  kinds  of  cognition,  each  fitted  for  obtaining 
awareness  of  its  appropriate  objects,  and  no  attempt 
was  made  to  show  the  relation  of  these  kinds  of 
knowledge.  But  in  the  latest  stage  of  his  philo 
sophical  development  he  realised,  as  we  have  already 
',  mentioned,  that  we  cannot  have  in  isolation  know 
ledge  of  particulars  and  knowledge  of  universals, 
and  that  all  knowledge  requires  the  concurrence  of 
both  the  universal  and  the  particular.  Sensation 
gives  merely  the  raw  material  of  knowledge,  which 
needs  to  be  understood  and  interpreted  before 
becoming  knowledge  ;  and  the  understanding  by 
itself  is  empty  and  can  give  no  knowledge  apart 
from  the  filling  of  sense.  All  this,  of  course,  proves 
the  inadequacy  of  the  psychological  method.  But 
though  Berkeley  certainly  did  see  that  it  is  inade 
quate,  he  does  not  seem  to  have  understood  precisely 
why  it  is  inadequate.  It  is  unsatisfactory  as  a 
philosophical  method  because  it  takes  very  little 
account  of  a  group  of  problems  which  it  is  one  of 
the  principal  tasks  of  philosophy  to  examine,  the 
problem  of  the  relation  of  the  self  to  its  experience, 
the  problem  of  the  relation  of  inner  experience  to 


INTRODUCTORY  11 

outer  experience,  and  the  problem  of  the  relation 
of  the  finite  self  to  the  Infinite.  All  these  problems 
are  touched  by  Berkeley,  but  in  no  case  did  he  face 
thoroughly  the  difficulties  which  they  involve.  And 
his  philosophical  weakness  may  be  said  to  be  due, 
in  a  word,  to  his  failure  to  work  out  the  implications 
of  personality.  The  world  is,  for  him,  dependent 
for  its  character  and  existence  on  persons  ;  yet  he 
deliberately  avoids  any  fundamental  discussion  of 
the  meaning  of  personality. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT 

I.  PHILOSOPHICAL  AND  RELIGIOUS  ENVIRON 
MENT 

IT  is  the  merest  commonplace  to  say  that  every 
thinker  owes  much  to  his  predecessors  and  contem 
poraries.  His  thought  is  consciously  influenced  by 
philosophers,  scientists  and  moralists  ;  and,  in 
addition,  it  bears  upon  it  the  stamp  of  that  subtler 
but  none  the  less  potent  force,  the  social  environ 
ment  in  which  he  lives.  Berkeley  is  perhaps  the 
freshest  and  most  original  thinker  in  the  history  of 
British  philosophy  ;  yet,  more  than  any  other,  he 
was  influenced  both  by  his  immediate  philosophical 
predecessors  and  by  the  social  surroundings  in  which 
he  was  placed.  He  was  aware  of  his  debt,  though 
not,  perhaps,  of  the  full  extent  of  it.  "I  must 
acknowledge  myself  beholding  to  the  philosophers 
who  have  gone  before  me,"1  he  reminds  himself  in 
the  Commonplace  Book  ;  but  at  the  same  time  he 
compares  these  predecessors  to  adventurers,  "  who, 
tho'  they  attained  not  the  desired  port,  they  by 
their  wrecks  have  made  known  the  rocks  and  sands, 
whereby  the  passage  of  aftercomers  is  made  more 

1  Commonplace  Book,  i.  38. 
12 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT        13 

secure  and  easy."  l  But  Berkeley's  indebtedness 
was  not  merely  of  this  negative  kind.  He  did  not 
use  other  philosophers  merely  as  beacons  to  enable 
him  to  keep  clear  of  the  errors  on  which  their  thought 
had  been  wrecked.  This  metaphor  is  entirely 
inadequate.  In  reality,  other  philosophers  formed 
his  spiritual  meat  and  drink,  and  it  was  because  he 
assimilated  so  well  the  nourishment  they  provided 
that  he  was  able  to  reach  the  philosophical  stature 
to  which  he  actually  grew. 

In  Berkeley's   case   it   is   possible,   with   greater 
certainty  than  is  usual,   to   discover  the   material 
which  his  receptive  mind  acquired  from  his  pre 
decessors  and  contemporaries,   and,   in  general,  to 
trace  the  outlines  of  the  main  formative  influences 
which  played  upon  his  mind.    When  his  first  book 
appeared,  he  was  still  very  young.     He  was  only 
twenty-four  when  the  New  Theory  of  Vision  was 
published,  and  the  Principles  was  given  to  the  world 
in  the  following  year.     In  these  works  he  makes  no 
effort  to  conceal  the  sources  from  which  the  New 
Principle  was  derived.     One  of  his  great  aims,  he 
tells  us,  is  to  "  remove  the  mist  or  veil  of  words  " 
by  which  philosophy  is  obscured,  and  he  has  no  wish 
to  hide  the  origins  of  his  own  thought  or  mask  the 
workings  of  his  own  mind.     His  own  consciousness 
of  his  relations  of  attraction  and  repulsion  to  other 
philosophers  renders  the  determination  by  us  of  the 
extent  and  nature  of  those  relations,  if  not  an  easy 
task,  at  least  a  practicable  one.     A  Locke,  a  Kant, 
or  a  Hobbes,  who  does  not  produce  his  work  till  near 
the  evening  of  his  days,  finds  it  impossible  to  say 
1  Ibid,  i.  38. 


14  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

which  among  the  myriad  influences  to  which  he  has 
been  exposed  have  really  been  vital  in  the  formation 
of  his  mind.  And  it  is  often  equally  impossible  for 
the  historian  to  disentangle  the  various  threads 
which  have  been  woven  so  closely  into  the  texture 
of  the  particular  philosophy.  But  Berkeley's  en 
during  philosophical  work  was  nearly  all  done  when 
he  was  a  very  young  man,  and  while  the  impressions 
of  his  student-days  were  still  fresh  and  vivid.  It  is 
thus  possible  for  us  to  trace,  from  his  own  writings, 
the  influence  of  his  social  and  philosophical  environ 
ment  on  the  development  of  his  thought. 

What  we  have  to  do,  then,  is  to  study  the  evolution 
of  Berkeley's  philosophy,  and,  as  no  study  of  evolu 
tion  is  complete  without  some  investigation  of 
environment,  it  is  necessary  to  sketch  in  outline  the 
nature  of  the  environment  of  mental  and  moral 
forces  with  which  Berkeley  was  surrounded  during 
his  student-days  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin. 

In  his  College  days  or  earlier  Berkeley  encountered 
the  two  great  influences  which  affected  the  whole 
course  of  his  life  and  work.     The  one  aim  which  he 
kept  persistently  before  him  through  all  the  vicissi 
tudes  of  a  varied  life  was  the  refutation  of  deists  and 
free-thinkers.     Now,  in  the  formation  of  this  purpose 
and  in  the  preparation  for  carrying  it  out,  he  was 
affected  by  two  main  influences  or  sets  of  influences, 
one    religious,    the    other    philosophical.     He     was 
influenced  not  only  by  the  new  experimental  philo 
sophy  of  mind  and  nature  introduced  by  Newton 
j  and  Locke,  but  also  by  the  great  religious  contro- 
i  versy,    which  lasted   over   half-a-century,    between 
'^orthodoxy  and  deism. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       15 

When  Berkeley  went  to  Dublin,  the  great  deist 
controversy,  in  which  he  was  destined  to  play  a 
not  unimportant  part,  was  just  beginning.  In  1696 
the  flame  was  fairly  lit  by  John  Toland  with  his 
anonymous  book,  Christianity  not  Mysterious.  The 
publication  immediately  became  notorious,  and  a 
second  edition  bearing  Toland's  name  was  issued 
in  the  same  year.  In  the  spring  of  1697  Toland 
went  to  Ireland,  his  native  country,  and  discovered 
that  intense  excitement  had  already  been  caused 
by  his  book.  He  did  everything  to  encourage  it. 
In  tavern  and  coffee-house  he  never  wearied  of  airing 
his  views  and  repeating  his  main  arguments.  His 
skill  in  debate  won  many  to  his  side,  and  Authority 
considered  it  necessary  to  institute  a  vigorous 
campaign  against  him.1  Everything  possible  was 
done  to  crush  his  views.  State,  Church,  and  Uni 
versity  were  all  arrayed  against  him.  Dr.  Peter 
Browne,2  at  that  time  Provost  of  Trinity,  published 
a  violent  attack  on  his  views,3  in  which  he  endea 
voured  to  excite  a  popular  outcry  against  him.4 
The  Church  was  not  behind  in  lending  its  voice  to 
the  general  condemnation,  and  from  every  pulpit, 
by  Archbishop  and  curate,  Toland  and  his  views  were 
denounced.5  The  affair  was  even  taken  up  by  the 

1  Cf .  Lechler  :   Geschichte  des  Englischen  Deismus,  p.  1 95. 

2  Peter  Browne,  with  whom  Berkeley  subsequently  had  a  con 
troversy,  was  the  author  of  The  Procedure  and  Limits  of  Human 
Understanding,  and  The  Divine  Analogy. 

3  A    Letter    in   Answer   to   a   Book    Entitled    Christianity   Not 
Mysterious,  1697. 

4  Molyneux,   the  friend  of   Locke,   criticised  Browne   on  this 
score.     (Locke's  Works,  viii.  428.) 

5  "  A  sermon  against  his  errors  was  as  much  expected  as  if  it 
had  been  prescribed  in  the  rubric  ;   and  an  Irish  peer  gave  it  as 


16  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Irish  Parliament,  a  special  commission  was  appointed 
to  deal  with  it,  and  eventually  a  resolution  was 
passed  by  the  whole  House  declaring  the  book  to 
be  antagonistic  to  the  Christian  religion  and  the 
Established  Church,  and  decreeing  that  it  should  be 
publicly  burnt  by  the  common  hangman,  and  the 
author  arrested  by  the  Serjeant  at  Arms.  Toland 
fled.  But  the  controversy  which  he  had  popularised 
was  not  so  easily  got  rid  of,  and  when  Berkeley 
entered  Trinity  College  in  1700  free-thinking  was 
still  a  subject  of  the  keenest  debate.  From  the 
beginning  Berkeley  took  the  greatest  interest  in  the 
controversy,  and  definitely  ranged  himself  on  the  side 
of  the  orthodox.1 

Berkeley's  Dublin  environment  was  also  respon 
sible  for  leading  him  in  the  direction  in  which  the 
work  was  to  be  done  that  would  secure  for  him  a 
permanent  reputation.  If  his  work  had  consisted 
simply  in  the  refutation  of  the  deists,  he  would  now 
be  as  much  ignored  as  they  are.  His  reputation 
rests  on  his  philosophy  pure  and  simple,  and  the 
general  character  of  his  philosophy  was  determined 
by  his  early  studies  at  Trinity  College.  The  College 
in  which  he  lived  had  changed  greatly  since  Swift's 
student-days.  Swift  took  his  degree  in  1685,  after 
wrestling  contemptuously  with  the  "  Logics "  of 
Burgersdicius,  Keckermannus  and  Smiglecius  and 
the  "  Manuals  "  of  Baronius  and  Scheiblerus.  But 

a  reason  why  he  had  ceased  to  attend  church  that  once  he  heard 
something  there  about  his  saviour  Jesus  Christ,  but  now  all  the 
discourse  was  about  one  John  Toland."  (Hunt,  Religious 
Thought  in  England,  ii.  244. ) 

1  For  a  detailed  account  of  Berkeley's  attitude  to  the  deists 
vide  infra,  chapter  vii. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT        17 

by  Berkeley's  time  these  tomes  had  been  discarded 
from  the  curriculum,  and  very  little  attention  was 
paid  to  the  subtleties  of  the  Schools.  Trinity 
College  had  given  a  welcome  to  Locke's  Essay, 
published  in  1690,  and  Newton's  Principia,  published 
in  1687  ;  and  all  interest  was  now  concentrated  on 
the  new  philosophy  initiated  by  them.  Thus,  when 
Berkeley  became  a  student  in  1700,  Locke  and 
Newton  were  the  great  intellectual  forces  in  his 
environment.  Berkeley  became  greatly  interested 
in  both  thinkers,  and  in  1706  he  was  the  leading 
member  of  a  society  which  met  weekly  for  the 
discussion  of  their  views. 

This  society,  which  was  founded  on  January  10, 
1705/6,  consisted  originally  of  eight  persons  only  ; 
and  there  is  some  reason  to  suppose  that  Berkeley 
was  president  and  Samuel  Molyneux  (son  of  Locke's 
friend)  secretary.1  Though  the  statutes  of  this 

1  The  reasons  for  this  conjecture  are  as  follows.  Berkeley,  we 
know,  was  far  ahead  of  his  fellow-students  (Life  and  Letters  of 
Berkeley,  p.  23),  and  it  is  therefore  a  priori  natural  to  suppose 
that  he  was  the  first  president  of  the  society.  Further,  the 
statutes,  which  deal  mainly  with  elaborate  rules  of  procedure, 
are  written  out  in  full  in  his  book,  but  not  in  his  handwriting. 
They  are  written,  no  doubt  by  the  secretary,  in  the  president's 
book  for  his  guidance  in  directing  the  discussions.  Again,  the 
date  of  the  foundation  of  the  society  is  January  10,  1705/6,  and 
there  is  in  existence  a  manuscript  of  Berkeley's— the  Description 
of  the  Cave  of  Dunmore— bearing  the  same  date,  which  was  almost 
certainly  read  by  Berkeley  at  the  first  meeting  of  the  society 
(See  Hermathena,  vol.  xi.  p.  181.)  And  it  seems  probable  that 
the  inaugural  paper  would  be  read  by  the  president. 

That  Samuel  Molyneux  was  secretary  is  suggested  by  the  fact 
that  the  manuscript  just  referred  to  and  the  manuscript  of 
Berkeley's  essay  Of  Infinites  (which  was  apparently  read  to  the 
same  society)  were  discovered  among  the  Molyneux  papers  in 
the  library  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  and  both  bear  an  endorse 
ment  in  the  writing  of  Samuel  Molyneux  (Hermathena,  xi.  181) 

B.P.  B 


18  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

society,  which  are  preserved  in  Berkeley's  Common 
place  Book,  are  rather  elaborate,  yet,  oddly  enough, 
the  object  of  the  society  is  not  stated.  It  was  clearly 
to  be  very  comprehensive,  members  being  entitled 
to  "  propose  to  the  assembly  their  inventions,  new 
thoughts,  or  observations  in  any  of  the  sciences."  x 
The  constitution  provides  for  a  museum,  with  one 
of  the  members  as  "  Keeper  of  the  Rarities  "  ;  and 
it  is  clear  from  some  entries  which  immediately 
follow  the  statutes  in  Berkeley's  Commonplace  Book 
that  Locke  was  the  subject  of  much  discussion. 
Directly  after  these  entries  follows  another  list  of 
statutes,  a  short  one  this  time,  which  is  dated 
December  7,  1706.  These  statutes  may  refer  to  a 
new  society,  but  it  is  more  probable  that  they  merely 
correct  or  amplify  the  constitution  of  the  original 
society.  The  object  of  the  society  is  now  denned. 
It  is  "  to  discourse  on  some  part  of  the  new  philo 
sophy."  2 

In  this  society,  accordingly,  Berkeley  discussed 
with  his  friends  the  New  Philosophy  of  Locke  and 
Newton  ;  and  in  connection  with  these  discussions, 
he  wrote  his  Commonplace  Book. 


II.   THE  COMMONPLACE  BOOK 

The  Commonplace  Book  is  in  itself  of  unique  philo 
sophical  interest,  and  is,  in  addition,  of  the  utmost 
value  for  the  light  it  throws  on  the  genesis,  evolution, 

Now  it  was  one  of  the  statutes  of  the  society  "  that  the  secretary 
have  the  charge  of  all  papers  belonging  to  the  society."  (Life 
and  Letters,  p.  24.) 

1  Life  and  Letters  of  Berkeley,  p.  25.  2  Ibid.  p.  26. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       19 

and  affiliation  of  Berkeley's  thought.  Begun  early 
in  1706,  the  book  contains  a  full  and  suggestive  series 
of  notes  of  what  he  was  reading  and  thinking  and 
planning  during  the  earliest  years  of  his  philoso 
phical  development.  In  its  vivid,  disjointed,  and 
staccato  jottings  it  reveals  a  mind  pregnant  with  a 
great  discovery.  More  important  still,  it  displays 
the  sources  from  which  that  great  discovery  was 
nourished  prior  to  being  brought  forth  in  the  New 
Theory  of  Vision  and  Principles,  and  enables  us  to 
discern  the  emotions  which,  in  Berkeley's  mind, 
accompanied  the  birth  of  the  New  Principle.  The 
notebook  was  intended  for  the  eye  of  its  writer  alone, 
and  it  contains  the  freest  possible  expression  of  his 
attitude  towards  the  philosophers  and  mathe 
maticians  from  whom  he  was  still  learning.  Its 
casual  and  unstudied  utterances  throw  a  brilliant 
light  on  the  origin  and  progress  of  his  thought. 

The  earliest  philosophical  remarks  in  the  book 
are  the  queries  interposed  between  the  statutes  of 
January  1705/6  and  December  1706.  These  have 
reference,  without  exception,  to  particular  points 
of  Locke's  doctrine.  Several  isolated  questions  refer 
to  matters  which  Berkeley  was  later  to  raise,  though 
they  have  little  connection  with  the  fundamentals 
of  his  own  theory  ;  but  more  interesting  than  these 
are  the  important  queries  which  indicate  that 
already  Berkeley's  mind  was  tending  in  the  direction 
of  the  New  Principle.  Suggestive,  for  instance,  is 
the  very  first  entry,  "  Query.  Whether  number  be 
in  the  objects  without  the  mind  ?  Locke,  b.  2,  c.  8, 
s.  9."  *  Berkeley's  conviction  of  the  mind-dependent 

1  Life  and  Letters  of  Berkeley,  p.  25. 


20  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

reality  of  the  world  was  already  dawning  ;  and  that 
he  was  thus  early  inclining  to  the  emphasis  on  sense 
which  is  so  marked  a  feature  of  his  earlier  thought  is 
evident  from  the  tentative  and  awkwardly  expressed 
statement,  "Things  belonging,  to  reflection  are  for  __ 
the  most  part  expressed  by  forms  borrowed  from 
.things  sensible.."  *  But  such  suggestions  as  these 
are  merely  prolegomena  to  the  New  Principle  :  the 
New  Principle  itself  has  not  yet  been  revealed  to 
Berkeley's  ardent  mind. 

The  revelation  takes  place  in  the  most  striking 
way  in  the  next  group  of  entries.  As  we  read  the 
phrases  they  contain,  it  needs  no  effort  of  imagina 
tion  to  reconstruct  the  stages  of  the  development  of 
the  New  Idea.  No  harsh  Socratic  maieutic  was 
needed  to  bring  it  to  the  birth  ;  it  came  to  light  easily 
and  almost  imperceptibly,  and  as  we  scan  the 
sentences  in  which  Berkeley  indicated  the  process, 
it  is  easy  to  sympathise  with  his  joy  and  surprise  as 
he  gazes  at  the  child  of  his  mind—"  The  obvious 
tho'  amazing  truth." 

The  whole  process  of  evolution  takes  place  in  a 
single  page,  and  that  the  first  page  of  the  Common 
place  Book  proper.2  Berkeley  is  considering  the 
problem  of  time  and  eternity,  and  after  one  or  two 

1  Ibid.  p.  26. 

2  My  account  of  the  development  of  Berkeley's  early  thought 
as  revealed  in  the  Commonplace  Book  is  based  on  the  supposition 
that  the  order  in  which  Berkeley  actually  made  the  entries  is 
not  that  which  is  adopted  by  Campbell  Fraser  in  the  Oxford 
edition,  but  is  as  follows. 

I.  The  Statutes  of  January  1705/6,  the  queries,  and  the 
Statutes  of  December  1706.  (Though  these  are  all  in 
the  manuscript  of  the  "  Commonplace  Book,"  they  are 
not  printed  by  Fraser  in  the  Commonplace  Book,  but 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       21 

remarks  of  no  particular  importance,  he  makes  the 
significant  statement,  "  Time  is  the  train  of  ideas 
succeeding  each  other."  1  Next  he  says,  "  Duration 
not  distinguished  from  existence."  Time,  he  means, 

are  inserted  by  him  in  his  Life  and  Letters  of  Berkeley, 
pp.  23-27.) 
II.   Commonplace  Book,  pp.  58-89. 

III.  Commonplace  Book,  pp.  7-58. 

IV.  Commonplace  Book,  pp.  89-92.     (These  references  are  to 

the  "  Commonplace  Book  "  as  printed  by  Fraser  in  the 
1901  edition  of  the  Works.) 

It  is  necessary  now  to  give  reasons  for  adopting  this  order. 

The  essential  question  relates  to  the  order  of  the  two  sections 
numbered  above  II.  and  III.  And  it  may  at  the  outset  be 
pointed  out  that  section  I.  coheres  closely  with  section  II.,  and  is 
to  be  regarded  as  prefatory  to  it.  Section  I.,  which  was  extracted 
from  its  proper  place  in  the  "  Commonplace  Book  "  by  Campbell 
Fraser  for  biographical  purposes  when  he  published  the  1871 
edition  of  the  Works,  and  was  apparently  overlooked  altogether 
when  he  brought  out  the  edition  of  1901,  stands  written  in  the 
manuscript  volume  which  we  call  the  "  Commonplace  Book  " 
between  the  quotation  from  Clov  (?)  and  the  sentence  "One 
eternity  greater  than  another  of  the  same  kind."  The  quota 
tion  from  Clov  (?)  ends  one  page.  Then  follow  three  blank  pages. 
Then  we  have  the  statutes  of  January  1705/6,  and  the  other 
items  which  constitute  what  I  have  called  section  I.  The 
sentence  "  One  eternity  greater  than  another  of  the  same  kind  " 
runs  on  immediately  after  the  last  of  the  statutes  of  December 
1706.  It  is  clear,  then,  that  the  statutes  and  queries  are  con 
nected  with  section  II.,  and  are  disconnected  from  section  III., 
from  which  they  are  separated  by  the  three  blank  pages.  That 
is,  section  I.  is  connected  with  II.,  but  not  with  III.  It  is,  as 
we  have  said,  prefatory  to  II. 

Having  now  made  clear  the  close  connection  of  I.  with  II. 
(which  nobody  doubts),  we  proceed  to  the  crux  of  the  question, 
viz.  the  transposition  of  sections  II.  and  III. 

The  order  in  which  the  Commonplace  Book  is  printed  by  Camp 
bell  Fraser  is  that  of  the  manuscript  volume.  The  only  altera 
tions  which  Fraser  made  in  editing  the  manuscript  were  (a)  the 
excision  of  section  I.  (to  which  we  have  already  alluded),  (b)  the 
omission  of  a  few  repetitions,  and  (c)  the  addition  on  p.  92  of  a 
few  remarks  taken  from  another  manuscript  of  Berkeley.  Apart 
from  these  intentional  interferences  with  the  text  of  the  manu- 
1  Commonplace  Book,  i.  58. 


22  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

exists  only  so  long  as  it  endures.  The  existence  of 
time  is  its  duration  and  nothing  else  ;  hence,  in 
general  (this  seems  to  be  his  argument),  existence  is 
identical  with  duration.  But  the  difficulty  arises 

script,  and  some  errors  in  deciphering  Berkeley's  handwriting, 
the  Commonplace  Book  printed  by  Campbell  Fraser  is  identical 
with  the  manuscript  volume. 

Now,  as  Lorenz  was  the  first  to  point  out  (Archivfiir  Geschichte 
der  Philosophic,  xviii.  554),  the  manuscript  volume  consists  of 
two  notebooks,  bound  together.  Evidence  of  the  former  bindings 
remains,  and  there  is  a  slight  difference  in  the  texture  and  quality 
of  the  paper.  One  notebook  comprises  pp.  7-58  down  to  and 
including  the  qxiotation  from  Clov  (?),  i.e.  what  we  have  called 
section  III.  For  convenience  we  will  call  this  notebook  A.  The 
other  contains  the  statutes  and  queries  followed  by  pp.  58-92, 
i.e.  what  we  have  called  sections  I.,  II.  and  IV.  Let  us  call  this 
notebook  B. 

It  was  suggested  by  Lorenz  that  these  notebooks  had 
accidentally  been  bound  together  in  the  wrong  order.  This 
supposition  I  have  adopted.  To  substantiate  it,  it  is  necessary 
to  show  that  notebook  A  must  be  later  than  notebook  B. 

(1)  A  contains  the  date  August  28th,  1708.     B  contains  the 
dates  January  10,  1705/6,  and  December  7,  1706.     There  is  no 
doubt  as  to  these  dates,  consequently  A  must  be  later  than  B. 
This  is  absolutely  conclusive.      (There  is  an  entry  on  p.  84  which 
might  be  taken  to  suggest  that  it  had  been  written  before  April  1 6, 
1705.     It  refers  to  "  Mr.  Newton,"  and  as  Newton  was  knighted 
on  April   16,   1705,  the  entry,  Fraser  suggests,  would  seem  to 
indicate  that  it  was  written  before  that  date.     This  is  not,  of 
course,   conclusive.     It  is  quite  possible  that  Berkeley  simply 
wrote  "  Mr.  Newton  "  inadvertently.     If  Fraser's  supposition  be 
true,  it  still  further  confirms  our  contention  that  B  is  earlier 
than  A,  though  it  gives  rise  to  difficulties  of  its  own  in  connection 
with   the   statutes,    which   would   then,    though   preceding   the 
Newton  entry  in  the  manuscript,  be  subsequent  to  it  in  time.    And 
this,  I  think,  is  a  further  objection  to  Fraser's  suggestion.) 

(2)  That  B  was  written  as  early  as  1706,  and  therefore  before 
A,  is  confirmed  by  the  discovery  made  by  Prof.  S.  P.  Johnston 
of  an  essay  by  Berkeley  entitled    "  Of  Infinites."      On  external 
and  internal  evidence  Prof.  Johnston  assigns  this  essay  to  the 
period  1706-7  (Hermathena,  vol.  xi.  pp.  181-2),  and  a  comparison 
of  it  with  the  Commonplace  Book  shows  that  it  was  certainly 
written  at  the  same  time  as  pp.  83-88. 

(3)  Berkeley  tells  us  (Works,  ii.   19)  that  one  of  his  earliest 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       23 

that,  if  this  be  so,  we  seem  to  be  deprived  of  any 
objective  measure  of  existence.  In  pain  time  is 
longer  than  it  is  in  pleasure.  Because  its  duration 
is  longer,  its  existence  is  longer.  The  conclusion 

enquiries  was  about  time.  Now  the  only  group  of  entries  in  the 
Commonplace  Boole  concerning  time  is  that  on  pp.  58f.  This 
would  be  "  one  of  his  earliest  enquiries  "  only  if  B  is  prior  to  A. 

(4)  But  by  far  the  most  convincing  confirmatory  evidence  of 
the  priority  of  B  is  that  supplied  by  a  consideration  of  the  sub 
jects  dealt  with  in  the  two  parts.     There  are,  for  instance,  two 
or  three  fairly  certain  references  from  A  to  B.     On  p.  12  we  have 
the  following  :    "  Motion  on  2nd  thoughts  seems  to  be  a  simple 
idea."     Now,  motion  has  not  been  mentioned  previous  to  this 
in  A.     In  B,  on  the  other  hand,  motion  is  mentioned  in  such  a 
way  as  to  imply  that  it  is  a  complex  idea.     That  is,  we  have 
Berkeley's   first  thought  in   B,   and  his  second  thought  in  A. 
Again,  in  B  we  frequently  find  dogmatic  and  unguarded  state 
ments  which  are  carefully  qualified  in  A.      For  instance,  he  states 
in  B,  absolutely  and  without  qualification,  that  in  perception  the 
mind  is  essentially  passive  (p.  83).     But  in  A  he  qualifies  this  by 
adding,  "  There  is  somewhat  active  in  most  perceptions  "  (p.  37). 
Lastly  (and  this  seems  to  be  an  irrefragable  example),  in  B  he 
defines   "  bodies  "   as   "  combinations  of  powers,"    obviously    a 
technical  definition  of  his  own  (p.   64).     But  in  A  he  reminds 
himself  "  not  to  mention  the  combinations  of  powers  "  (p.  50). 
Now,  the  phrase  "combinations  of  powers"  has  not  previously 
been  mentioned  in  A.    The  reference  is  clearly  to  the  passage  in  B. 

(5)  Finally,  if  we  take  the  Commonplace  Book  printed  in  the 
Oxford    edition,    it    is    impossible    to    trace  any  development  in 
Berkeley's  thought.     On  the  very  first  page  of  A,  in  the  second 
entry,  we  have  a  reference  in  detail  to  the  structure  of  the  Intro 
duction  to  the  Principles,  and  Berkeley  speaks  in  a  most  familiar 
way  of  the  application  of  the  Principle  to  various  difficulties. 
The  first  few  pages  of  A  show,  in  fact,  that  he  had  already  reached 
the  stage  of  drafting  the  Principles,  and  was  even  paying  atten 
tion  to  the  phrasing  of  important  passages.     In  A  the  references 
are  all  to  the  Principles.     On  the  other  hand,  B  contains  almost 
the  whole  of  the  argument  of  the  New  Theory  of  Vision,  which 
was  certainly  developed  before  the  Principles.     And  the  general 
style  and  atmosphere  of   A  are  more  mature  than  B.     Most 
important  of  all,  on  the  supposition  that  B  precedes  A  in  time,  it 
is  possible  to  discern  a  real  continuity  of  argument  and  progress 
of  thought.     This  is  shown  in  the  brief  exposition  of  the  argument 
of  the  Commonplace  Book  which  I  have  given  in  the  text,  and  need 


24  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

would  seem  to  follow  that  the  measure  of  time,  and 
consequently  the  measure  of  existence,  differs  from 
individual  to  individual,  and  in  the  same  individual 
from  moment  to  moment.  This  consequence  is, 
in  part,  admitted  by  Berkeley.  "  The  same  TO  vvv" 
he  says,  "  not  common  to  all  intelligences."  There 
is  no  objective  or  universal  measure  of  time,  and  the 
conclusion  must  be  drawn,  "  Time  a  sensation ; 

not  be  repeated  here.  The  reality  of  this  continuity  grows  on 
the  mind  the  more  frequently  one  reads  the  Commonplace  Book  ; 
and  no  one  who  reads  it  over  several  times,  first  in  one  order  and 
then  in  the  other,  can  avoid  the  conclusion  that  Berkeley  wrote 
B  before  A. 

For  all  these  reasons,  then,  we  maintain  that  the  order  in 
which  Berkeley  actually  made  his  jottings  is  that  which  we  have 
adopted.  The  essential  question,  let  us  repeat,  concerns  our 
transposition  of  sections  II.  and  III.,  and  this  we  have  proved  to 
be  justified. 

A  word  or  two  will  suffice  for  the  unimportant  question  why 
pages  89-92  are  postponed  to  notebook  A,  though  they  really 
occur  at  the  end  of  B.  In  the  manuscript  there  is  a  hiatus  where 
on  p.  89  in  the  Oxford  edition  a  line  is  drawn.  That  is,  the 
portion  of  p.  89  after  the  line  does  not  follow  on  uninterruptedly 
the  part  of  p.  89  before  the  line.  We  thus  have  this  initial  reason 
for  separating  p.  89  ff.  from  the  rest  of  B.  Now,  pp.  89-92 
.consist  of  (a)  nineteen  carefully  stated  and  numbered  axiomatic 
statements  of  the  salient  points  of  Berkeley's  New  Principle, 
followed  by  (b)  a  few  jottings  of  the  usual  kind.  Now,  it  may  be 
suggested  that  what  Berkeley  did  was  this.  He  began  by  writing 
notebook  B  from  the  beginning  to  p.  89.  He  then  left  a  few 
pages  blank  at  the  end  of  the  notebook,  in  order  to  state  there 
the  positive  results  of  his  thought.  At  the  same  time  he  started 
a  new  book  (A)  for  the  purpose  of  continuing  his  jottings  and 
queries.  Finally,  when  A  was  completely  filled  (it  is  filled  from 
the  first  page  to  the  last),  he  returned  to  the  pages  at  the  end  of 
B,  some  of  which  still  remained  blank,  and  wrote  the  page  or 
two  of  jottings  which  form  the  end  of  the  Commonplace  Book. 
But  it  should  be  remembered  that  this  is  merely  conjecture. 
And,  in  any  case,  nothing  of  importance  in  connection  with  the 
development  of  Berkeley's  thought  depends  upon  it.  On  the 
other  hand,  what  is  of  vital  importance,  i.e.  the  transposition  of 
II.  and  III.,  we  take  to  be  definitely  established. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       25 

therefore  onely  in  ye  mind."  This  conclusion  is 
obviously  of  the  first  importance  in  the  development 
of  Berkeley's  philosophy.  Time,  he  has  been  forced 
to  state,  has  no  existence  in  itself  or  in  an  external 
world  of  things.  It  is  simply  a  sensation  or  series 
of  sensations,  and  is  thus  entirely  dependent  on  the 
mind.  But  much  more  than  this  is  implied.  Berke 
ley  has  already  declared  that  duration  and  existence 
are  identical,  and  the  tremendous  conclusion  follows 
that  all  existence  is  mind-dependent.  Time  is  a 
sensation,  or,  as  he  else  where  Bays,  "U  perception  .  .  . 
tempus  est  perci'pi  ;  and  existence  itself  is  simply  a 
perception  or  series  of  perceptions  .  .  .  esseestpercipi. 
That  is  the  first  part  of  Berkeley's  New  Principle. 

In  the  next  few  entries  Berkeley  confirms  and 
extends  "  this  amazing  truth."  Extension,  he 
declares,  is  a  sensation,  "  therefore  not  without  the 

*^infl  "        AT1fl    ™    fra"**™^    ""»   mfl-Y  paWtfiftH    +.r>    affirm 


"  Primary  ideas  proved  not  to  exist  m  matter  ;  after 
the  same  manner  that  secondary  ones  are  proved 
not  to  exist  therein."  Primary  ,  ideas,  equally  with 
secondary  ones  (which  Locke  and  others  had  proved 
to  be  dependent  on  perception),  are  mind-dependent. 
Hence  the  great  conclusion  is  confirmed  that  the 
whole  world  depends  on  thought.  "  World  without 
thoughlf  IB"  nee  quid,  nee  quantum,  nee  quale,  etc." 
The  world  owes  its  dftterTninq^existence  to  the  fact 
that  it  is  an'  object  of  thought  or  perception.  In 
being  perceived  it  exists.  Hence  the  source  of 
existence  must  t)e  in  that  on  which  existence 
depends,  and  that  is  consciousness.  Consciousness, 
then,  is  the  only  real  existence,  for  the  things  which 
owe  their  being  to  it  have  a  merely  derivative 


26  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

existence.  And  the  conclusion  follows  that ' '  Nothing 
properly  but  Persons,  i.e.  conscious  things,  do  exist." 
Existence,  then,  is  of  two  kinds  :  in  its  primary 
sense  it  means  "  perceiving,"  in  a  secondary  sense 
it  means  "  being  perceived."  We  may  accordingly 
state  the  universal  and  comprehensive  truth  esse  est 
aut  percipere  aut  percipi. 

This  is,  in  essence,  the  kernel  of  Berkeley'-s  theory 
of  knowledge  and  existence.  The  evolution— and 
it  is  a  real  evolution — is  complete  in  the  first  page 
of  the  Commonplace  Book. 

But  no  sooner  had  Berkeley  reached  this  conclusion 
(and  indeed  before  he  reached  it),  than  difficulties 
came  crowding  into  his  mind.  Nothing,  I  think,  in 
the  whole  course  of  Berkeley's  work  leaves  such  an 
impression  of  freshness,  vitality,  and  vigour,  as  the 
early  pages  of  the  Commonplace  Book.  His  mind 
was  literally  open  to  the  world,  problems  of  all  kinds 
impinged  upon  it  from  every  direction,  and,  now  that 
he  had  discovered  his  New  Principle,  it  was  essential 
that  all  these  problems  should  be  considered  with 
reference  to  it,  and  in  the  light  which  it  had  to  give. 

These  problems  fall  naturally  into  three  classes  : 
they  are  either  religious,  psychological,  or  mathe 
matical.  As  an  example  of  the  way  in  which 
problems  literally  overwhelm  him,  it  may  be  of 
interest  simply  to  enumerate  some  of  the  points 
which  he  mentions  and  considers  in  the  first  two  pages 
of  the  Commonplace  Book.  (1)  Religious.  Immor 
tality,  the  wisdom  of  God,  the  fall  of  Adam,  the 
knowability  of  the  soul,  and  the  proofs  of  the  being 
of  God.  (2)  Psychological.  The  nature  of  primary 
and  secondary  qualities,  the  question  whether  a 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       27 

blind  man  made  to  see  would  know  motion  at  first 
sight,  the  nature  of  colour,  the  relation  of  visual  and 
tactual  qualities,  and  the  query  of  Molyneux  whether 
a  born-blind  man  made  to  see  would  know  a  cube 
or  sphere  at  first  sight.  (3)  Mathematical.  The 
infinite  divisibility  of  time  and  space,  the  nature  of 
motion,  and  the  question  whether  the  incommen 
surability  of  the  side  and  diagonal  of  the  square  is 
compatible  with  the  New  Principle.  Most  of  these 
special  difficulties,  many  of  them  of  the  first  import 
ance  in  themselves  and  with  reference  to  his  theory, 
were  dealt  with  in  detail  by  him  subsequently  :  the 
impressive  thing  about  their  appearance  here  is  just 
the  fact  that  they  do  appear.  Berkeley's  instinct 
for  the  important  elements  was  not  at  fault  ;  for  as 
early  as  this  he  descried  the  obstacles  and  hazards 
in  the  way  of  the  exposition  of  the  Philosophy  of  the 
New  Principle. 

In  the  rest  of  the  Commonplace  Book  the  New 
Principle  is  turned  over  and  over  in  Berkeley's  mind, 
scrutinised  from  every  possible  point  of  view, 
examined  in  the  light  of  all  the  reading  he  could 
bring  to  bear  upon  it,  and  defended  against  the 
attacks  of  imaginary  critics.  In  these  pages  there 
is  naturally  much  repetition,  for  the  same  difficulties 
recur  again  and  again.  But  the  repetition  is,  like 
Kant's,  never  entirely  negligible.  The  same  funda 
mental  ideas  are  advanced  in  slightly  different 
settings,  for  they  have  been  suggested  in  slightly 
different  ways. 

The  development  of  what  is  commonly  known  as 
the  Berkeleian  theory  is  in  essentials  completed,  as 
we  have  seen,  in  the  first  few  lines  of  the  Common- 


28  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

place  Book,  and  it  is  unnecessary  to  trace  in  any 
great  detail  the  progress  of  Berkeley's  thought  in 
the  remaining  pages.  The  precise  way  in  which  he 
dealt  with  the  various  difficulties  which  confronted 
the  New  Principle  will  be  treated  subsequently.  In 
the  meantime  it  will  be  sufficient  to  indicate,  in  the 
briefest  outline,  the  order  in  which  the  various 
problems  seem  to  have  become  prominent  in  his 
mind. 

The  general  problem  which  first  occupies  him  is 
the  nature  of  extension.  He  has  already  concluded 
that  extension  is  simply  a  collection  of  ideas  ;  but 
this  conclusion,  he  soon  realises,  teems  with  im 
portant  and  difficult  problems.  What,  for  example, 
is  the  relation  of  visible  extension  to  tangible  exten 
sion  ? — and  the  relation  of  either  or  both  to  reality  ? 
Again,  since  the  existence  of  extension  consists  in 
being  perceived,  what  becomes  of  it  when  it  is  not 
being  perceived  ?  Has  extension  any  permanence  ? 
And  further,  what  is  the  relation  of  the  extension 
that  I  perceive  to  the  extension  that  you  perceive  ? 
Has  extension  any  self -identity  ?  Lastly,  if  exten 
sion  consists  of  discrete  ideas,  particular  perceptions, 
what  do  we  mean  by  speaking  of  its  continuity  ? 
(pp.  60-63). 

These  problems  of  permanence,  identity  and  con 
tinuity  are  next  considered  in  relation  to  persons. 
The  existence,  permanence,  and  the  like  of  the 
external  world,  Berkeley  believes,  depend  on  the 
perception  of  persons  ;  and  it  is  therefore  obviously 
important  to  examine  the  grounds  on  which  we 
ascribe  existence  to  persons.  If  the  existence  of 
persons  consists  in  perceiving,  what  becomes  of  them 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       29 

when  they  are  not  actually  perceiving  ?  Does  it 
follow  that  "  men  die,  or  are  in  a  state  of  annihilation, 
oft  in  a  day  ?  "  Or,  if  we  say  that  identity  of  per 
sonality  consists  in  the  will,  and  that  the  will  is 
continuously  active,  what  is  the  relation  of  the 
finite  will  to  the  will  of  God  ?  Is  its  existence 
swallowed  up  in  God  as  the  ultimate  power  of  per 
ception  and  action,  or  does  it  enjoy  a  distinct  and 
particular  permanence  and  reality  ?  (pp.  64-72). 

The  next  main  group  of  problems  is  concerned  with 
the  perception  of  distance  and  magnitude.  Questions 
relating  to  perception  have,  as  we  have  seen,  already 
been  raised  by  Berkeley,  but  he  does  not  become 
preoccupied  with  them  till  p.  72.  On  that  page  he 
states  in  successive  entries  the  two  fundamental  points 
in  his  theory  of  vision,  viz.  that  there  is  no  necessary 
connection  between  optic  angles  and  extension,  and 
that  distance  is  not  immediately  perceived  by  sight. 
The  relation,  he  goes  on  to  point  out,  between  visual 
signs  and  the  distance  or  magnitude  they  suggest  is, 
though  constant  association  leads  us  to  imagine  it 
to  be  necessary,  really  only  an  arbitrary  one.  We 
never  immediately  perceive  distance  or  magnitude. 
They  can  only  be  inferred  by  us,  for  they  are 
suggested  to  us  by  the  signs  which,  in  our  experience, 
uniformly  accompany  them1  (pp.  72-82). 

In  the  next  few  pages  Berkeley's  mind  is,  in  spite 
of  many  distractions,  occupied  in  the  main  with 

1  It  is  noticeable  that  in  dealing  with  these  points,  soon  to  be 
expounded  in  the  New  Theory  of  Vision,  Berkeley  is  distinctly 
more  sure  of  himself  than  when  discussing  the  problems  which 
we  have  mentioned  in  the  previous  two  paragraphs.  There  he 
is,  for  the  most  part,  still  asking  questions.  Here,  on  the  other 
hand,  he  makes  assertions. 


30  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

mathematics.  The  mathematical  doctrine  of  the 
nature  of  infinitesimals  was  perhaps  the  most  difficult 
obstacle  with  which  his  theory  had  to  contend,  and 
it  is  clear  that  he  read  widely  in  contemporary  mathe 
matics  with  a  view  to  the  discovery  of  a  means  of 
overcoming  the  difficulty.  The  pages  in  which  he 
deals  with  mathematics  are  the  most  unsatisfactory 
in  the  whole  Commonplace  Book.  He  saw  clearly 
that,  if  extension  consists  of  minima  sensibilia,  then 
of  course  infinite  divisibility  is  impossible,  and  the 
recently  discovered  and  generally  accepted  mathe 
matical  doctrine  of  infinitesimals  must  be  branded  a 
fiction.  Not  only  so,  but  it  would  have  to  be  asserted 
that  the  bisection  of  a  line  is  possible  only  when  it 
consists  of  an  even  number  of  minima  sensibilia,  and 
the  time-honoured  theorem  that  the  side  and  diagonal 
of  a  square  are  incommensurable  would  have  to  be 
denied.  Berkeley  accordingly  devotes  much  time 
to  a  discussion  of  these  and  kindred  difficulties 
(pp.  83-89,  7-14). 

In  the  rest  of  the  book  no  one  group  of  problems 
occupies  his  attention  for  any  length  of  time.  It  is 
noteworthy,  however,  that  psychological  questions 
are  almost  excluded,  no  doubt  because  by  this  time 
the  New  Theory  of  Vision  was  already  in  manu 
script  ;  and  Berkeley's  attention  is  devoted  to  re 
thinking,  in  all  its  aspects  and  implications,  the 
New  Principle  which  he  was  preparing  to  publish 
to  the  world  in  the  Principles.  He  was  thinking  a 
good  deal  about  the  relation  of  the  New  Principle  to 
religion  and  morality,  he  was  working  out  a  concep 
tion  of  will  and  soul  that  he  intended  to  expound  in 
a  subsequent  volume  of  the  Principles,  he  was  dili- 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       31 

gently  drafting  important  paragraphs  for  the  Intro 
duction  to  the  Principles,  and  he  was  reading  and 
re-reading  Locke,  Newton,  Descartes,  Malebranche, 
Hobbes,  Spinoza  and  others,  in  order  to  see  what 
criticisms  could  be  brought  against  his  theory  from 
their  standpoints  (pp.  15-58). 

We  have  now  indicated,  as  far  as  it  is  possible  to 
do  so  with  brevity,  the  origin  of  Berkeley's  philo 
sophy,  and  the  general  order  in  which  he  considered 
the  problems  to  which  it  gave  rise.  So  far,  we  have 
not  said  anything  in  detail  of  his  relation  to  other 
thinkers,  and  of  the  extent  to  which  he  was  influ 
enced  by  them.  And  we  now  proceed  to  state,  in 
some  detail,  the  points  at  which  his  thought  seems 
to  have  been  influenced  by  other  philosophers.  In 
doing  this  our  method  will  be  strictly  historical.  We 
will  not  go  beyond  the  data  supplied  by  the  Common 
place  Book,  and  one  or  two  slight  contemporary 
writings  ;  and,  as  our  method  is  historical,  dis 
cussion  and  criticism  of  the  various  theories  will  be 
postponed  to  subsequent  chapters.  Here  we  are 
concerned  simply  to  state  seriatim  the  various  points 
of  relation  and  lines  of  influence. 

In  the  Commonplace  Book  we  find  three  main 
sources  of  Berkeley's  philosophy,  or  perhaps  it  would 
be  better  to  say,  three  main  lines  of  influence  on  the 
development  of  his  thought.  These  were  (1)  Locke, 
(2)  the  Cartesians,  especially  Malebranche,  and  (3) 
Newton  and  other  contemporary  mathematicians. 
Of  these  Locke  is  by  far  the  most  important.  It 
might,  indeed,  be  proper  to  claim  that  he  is  the  only 
real  source  of  Berkeley's  philosophy,  and  to  regard 
the  others  as  contributing  only  formative  influences. 


32  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

From  Locke  only  did  he  really  derive  anything  of  the 
first  importance.  The  original  impulse  and  direction 
of  his  philosophy  came  from  Locke,  and  from  Locke 
also  the  great  Gemeingut  of  ideas  which  makes  the 
continuity  between  them  as  remarkable  as  their 
differences. 

In  the  following  three  sections  of  this  chapter,  we 
shall  examine  the  influence  of  (1)  Locke,  (2)  the 
Cartesians,  and  (3)  contemporary  mathematicians 
on  the  development  of  Berkeley's  thought,  especially 
as  it  is  revealed  in  the  Commonplace  Book. 

III.  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  LOCKE 

That  the  mind  of  Locke  exercised  an  almost 
magisterial  influence  on  Berkeley  is  indisputable. 
But  Berkeley  was  by  no  means  willing  to  take  every 
thing  on  trust  from  his  master.  His  admiration  was 
tempered  by  criticism.  Thus,  his  relation  to  Locke 
is  one  both  of  attraction  and  repulsion.  This  double 
attitude  is  manifest  at  almost  every  point  at  which 
Berkeley  came  into  contact  with  Locke. 

To  speak  first  of  the  method  of  philosophy.  At 
first  Berkeley  here  followed  Locke  implicitly.  Locke's 
method  is  empirical  and  psychological.  He  makes 
an  inventory  of  the  actual  contents  of  human  experi 
ence,  and  holds  that,  as  our  knowledge  is  wholly 
derived  from  experience,  philosophy  must  consist 
simply  in  an  analysis  of  that  experience. 

Locke  himself  describes  his  method  and  aim  very 
clearly  in  the  Second  Letter  to  Stillingfleet.  "  If  I 
have  done  anything  new,"  he  says,  "  it  has  been  to 
describe  to  others,  more  particularly  than  has  been 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       33 

done  before,  what  it  is  that  their  minds  do  when  they 
perform  the  action  that  they  call  knowing."  The 
a  'priori  methods  of  scholasticism  had  been  dis 
credited  in  natural  science  ;  and  it  seemed  probable 
that  the  methods  of  observation  and  analysis  which 
had  proved  so  fruitful  in  physical  enquiries  would, 
if  applied  to  "  inner  experience  "  as  their  subject- 
matter,  lead  to  equally  successful  results.  Thus 
"  inner  experience  "  as  well  as  "  outer  experience  " 
is  matter  for  scientific  treatment.  In  the  latter  case 
the  enquiry  gives  rise  to  the  various  special  sciences  ; 
in  the  former  to  mental  science  or  philosophy. 
Observation  as  directed  upon  inner  experience  is 
introspection,  the  chief  method  of  philosophy,  which 
Locke  denned  as  the  process  of  "  looking  into  the 
mind  to  see  how  it  works." 

Berkeley's  method  is  at  first,  like  Locke's,  entirely 
introspective.  His  objection  to  Locke  is  not  that 
he  used  the  method  of  introspection,  but  that  he  did 
not  use  it  enough.  Locke,  like  other  philosophers, 
had  been  misled  by  words,  and  ha_d_been_cqntent  to 
take  words  a.t  their  face-value  without  trying  to 
verify  their  real  meaning.  Let  Locke  and  his 
followers,  Berkeley  urges,  examine  their  own  experi 
ence,  and  they  will  find  that  the  abstract  ideas  which 
they  posit  have  no  real  existence  corresponding  to 
the  words  which  name  them.  Hence,  as  the  panacea 
for  incorrect  thinking  Berkeley  advocates  intro 
spection,  or,  as  he  sometimes  terms  it,  using  a 
scholastic  word,  introversion.  "  Consult,  ransack 
your  understanding,"  he  says.1  And  he  is  as  good 
as  his  injunction.  For  most  of  the  jottings  in 

1  i,  27. 
B,P,  C 


34  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

the  Commonplace  Book  are  the  result  of  his  own 
application  of  the  introspective  method  to  his 
own  experience. 

Hence  for  Berkeley  the  only  real  philosophy  is 
empirical.  "Mem.,"  he  says,  "  much  to  recommend 
and  approve  of  experimental  philosophy."  1  The 
New  Theory  of  Vision  is  wholly  psychological,  and 
in  the  Principles  he  claims  that  his  results  are  based 
entirely  on  his  analysis  of  his  own  experience  :  in 
>.  both  cases  he  advises  the  reader  to  confirm  the 
doctrines  expounded  by  examining  his  experience.2 
We  should  base  our  jghilosogh^^in^sts^n  our 
o^n.Qbservatipji^fjour ;  own ;_ experience.  'There  is 
nothing  more  requisite  than  an  attentive  perception 
of  what  passes  in  my  own  understanding."  3  In 
philosophy  it  is  vain,  he  declares,  to  postulate  any 
thing  which  we  do  not  find  in  our  analysis  of  our 
own  experience. 

But  though  Berkeley  thus  follows  Locke's  metho 
dology,  he  goes  further  than  his  master.  He  goes 
further  by  going  back  to  investigate  the  foundations 
of  science  and  the  roots  of  knowledge.4  He  believes 
that  philosophers  like  Locke  have  occupied  a  vast 
tract  of  country,  but  they  have  not  been  sufficiently 
careful  to  establish  their  base  and  organise  their  lines 
of  communication.  They  have  not  possessed  their 
possessions.  Thus  the  territory  that  they  discovered 
needs  re-discovery  and  development.  Or,  to  vary 
the  metaphor,  the  ground  which  they  tilled  exten- 

1  i.  18. 

2Cf.  Introduction  to  the  Principles,  §  13,  Principles,  §§  8,  10, 
22,  24,  25,  27,  45. 

3  Introduction  to  the  Principles,  §  22.  4  i-  25. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       35 

sively,  and  whose  produce  they  thought  they  had 
exhausted,  can  be  made  to  yield  still  richer  and  more 
abundant  fruit  by  the  application  of  intensive 
methods  of  cultivation. 

Berkeley  believes  in  the  need  of  a  critical  regress 
on  current  methods  and  assumptions.  Locke,  indeed, 
had  criticised  the  scholastic  presuppositions  which 
were  still  implied  in  much  of  the  philosophy  of  the 
day  ;  and,  in  particular,  had  destroyed  the  hoary 
doctrine  of  innate  ideas.  But  his  criticism  had  not, 
Berkeley  maintains,  been  sufficiently  radical,  and 
thus  many  of  the  old  errors  were  still  suffered  to 
persist.  The  notable  instance  of  an  error  which 
had  not  only  not  been  removed  by  Locke,  but  which 
he  actually  took  pains  to  reinforce  with  new  argu 
ments  of  his  own  was  the  doctrine  of  abstract,  id^as 
Locke's  acceptance  and  confirmation  of  that  doctrine 
is,  in  Berkeley's  view,  his  greatest  mistake,  and  one 
which  seriously  affects  the  value  of  the  critical 
method.  And  in  Berkeley's  eyes  his  own  great 
methodological  reform  consists  in  driving  back  the 
critical  regress  which  had  been  started  by  Locke 
beyond  the  point  reached  by  him  ;  and  in 
showing  that  any  conception  of  abstract  ideas 
formed  according  to  the  currently  accepted 
theories  must  be  avoided  by  a  true  philosophical 

lethod. 

But  in  spite  of  this  important  difference,  a  differ 
ence  which  greatly  affects  the  results  and  ultimate 
orientation  of  the  two  systems,  Berkeley  agrees  with 
Locke  that  the  great  philosophical  method  is  that 
of  observation  and  introspection.  Berkeley  is,  in 
i  fact,  a  more  consistent  Locke.  All  our  philosophical 


36  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

conclusions  must  be  based,  he  insists,  on  our  examina 
tion  of  experience. 

Up  to  a  certain  point,  Berkeley  also  follows  Locke 
in  his  view  of  the  result  of  this  examination  of 
experience.  At  first  his  inventory  of  the  contents 
of  the  mind  is  very  similar  to  Locke's.  With  Locke 
he  agrees,  at  least  at  first,  that  "  all  knowledge  [is] 
onely  about  ideas."  1  Now  for  Locke  "  idea " 
means,  in  the  oft-quoted  definition,  "  whatsoever,  is 
the  object  of  the  understanding  when  a  man  thinks," 
In  this  definition  "thinking"  covers  both  sense- 
perception  and  reflection.  Ideas  of  sensation  are 
produced  by  external  objects,  ideas  of  reflection  by 
the  operations  of  the  mind  ;  but  both  ideas  of  sensa 
tion  and  ideas  of  reflection  may  be  called  the  objects 
of  the  mind.  This  in  outline  is  Locke's  theory  of 
knowledge. 

Now,  a  good  deal  of  misunderstanding  of  Locke's 
view  has  arisen  from  not  keeping  carefully  in  mind 
a  point  which,  it  must  be  admitted,  Locke  did  not 
make  sufficiently  clear  ;  and,  if  we  are  to  understand 
Berkeley's  relation  to  him,  his  theory  must  be 
explained  with  some  care. 

For  Locke,jmidpa  nf  sensation  is  one  produced  bv 

_        |" I  *S '  - 

external  object  on  the  senses.  But  an  idea  of 
reflection  is  producedby~the  operation  of  the  mind 
on  what  Locke  calls  "  internal  sense."  In  each  case 
the  preposition  "  of  "  indicates  the  source  from  which 
the  idea  comes.  On  the  other  hand,  when  Locke 
speaks  of  an  idea  of  blue,  "  blue  "  refers  to  the 
object  which  gives  rise  to  the  idea.  An  idea  of  blue 
may  be  either  an  idea  of  sensation  or  an  idea  of 

1  Commonplace  Book,  i.  21.     Cf,  Locke's  Essay,  iv.  i.  1. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       37 

reflection,  according  as  it  is  produced  by  direct 
stimulation  by  an  external  object,  or  by  the  repre 
sentative  operation  of  the  mind.  Locke  calls  the 
idea. jfche_Qhiect_of  J^e_jmdnd J^ Jie_ . aJsQ_c^lls.  the 
external  thing  the  object  of  the  mind...  On  his  view, 
if  we  analyse  any  process  of  perception,  we  really 
have  three  elements,  (i)  the  external  thing,  (ii)  the 
idea  which  results  from  the  perception  of  the  external 
thing  by  the  mind,  and  (iii)  the  mind  for  which  the 
idea  becomes  an  object.  The  idea  thus  occupies 
an  interme^a^j»p^itmn_^tween Jjie_jmnd_and  the 
thing.  "  It^s^  evident  the  mind  knows  not  things 
immediately,  but  only  bv  the  intervention  of  the 
I  ideas  it  has  of  them."  x 

To  formulate  in  exact  and  precise  terms  Locke's 
conception  of  the  relation  of  the  idea  to  the  mind 
on  the  one  hand,  and  to  the  thing  on  the  other,  is 
exceedingly  difficult,  if  not  impossible.  But  it  is 
possible  to  say  what  he  did  not  mean.  (1)  The 
relation  between  mind  and  idea  is  not  that  of 
substance  and  attribute,  nor  of  phenomenon  and 
noumenon,  nor  of  appearance  and  reality.  All  these 
statements  of  the  relation  involve  metaphysical 
theories  foreign  to  Locke.  The  best  statement  of 
the  relation,  and  one  sanctioned  by  Locke,  regards 

,  .   _  «/ 

the  idea  as  the  copy  of  the  thing.  But  only  some 
ideas  (those  of  primary  qualities)  are  copies  of 
things,  (2)  The  difficulty  of  stating  the  relation  of 
the  idea  and  the  mind  is  equally  great.  Locke 
constantly  speaks  of  ideas  as  "  in  the_min(L_''  But 
it  ia.  a  mistake  to  say  that,  for  Locke,  ideas  are 
"  states  of  CQns.fiiQu.snessJl.or  "  mental  affections." 

1  Essay,  iv.  iv.  3. 


38  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

He  does  not  dream  of  saying  that  we  know  only  our 
own    states    of    consciousness.     Nor    is    an    idea    a 
"  mental  affection."     Malebranche   had  raised  the 
question  of  the  relation  of  a  mental  modification  or 
affection  to  an  idea.     In  the  Essay  Locke  does  not 
touch  the  problem  at  all,  and  in  his  criticism  of 
Malebranche  l  he  does  not  seem  to  see  that  there  is 
a   problem.     To   say   that   the   idea   is    "mental" 
would  suggest  an  opposition  which  was  absent  from 
Locke's  mind  between  "  mental  "  and  "  non-mental." 
In  so  far  as  an  idea  is  said  to  be  in  the  mind,  it  would 
seem  to  be  mental ;   but  as  the  object  of  the  under 
standing,  that  which  is  perceived,  it  would  seem  to 
be  non-mental,  though  on  a  different  level  from  the 
physical  object.     But  Locke  does  not  seem  to  have 
asked  himself  whether  an  idea  is  mental  or  non- 
mental.     He  was  content  simply  to  say  that  it  is 
thfi_i>bject  of  the  understanding.     Thus  the  funda 
mental  fact,   and  that  in  which  Locke  is  mainly 
interested,  is  that  in  the  widest  sense  the  idea  is 
(i)  the  copy  of  the  thing,  and  (ii)  the  object  of  the 
mind. 

Berkeley  at  first,  in  his  zeal  "  to  simplify  and 
abridge  the  labour  of  study,"  thought  of  denying 
the  existence  of  both  minds  and  things.  Only  ideas 
would  be  left.  Of  different  kinds,  and  in  various 
combinations,  they  alone  would  constitute  the  whole 
of  experience.  But  though  Berkeley  actually  sug 
gests  the  banishment  of  both  minds  and  external 
things,  he  insists  upon  it  only  in  the  case  of  external 
things. 

1  An  Examination  of  Father  Malebranche' s  Opinion  of  Seeing 
All  Things  in  God. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       39 

He  had  what  seemed  to  him  excellent  reasons  for 
denying  the  existence  of  external  things,  and  indeed 
his  criticism  of  Locke  left  him  no  option.  Locke's 
account  of  the  "  original  "  of  knowledge,  Berkeley 
maintains,  is  untenable.  His  view  of  the  relation 
of  idea  and  thing  as  that  of  copy  and  thing  copied 
is  impossible,  because  if  the  mind  is  confined  to 
knowledge  of  its  own  ideas,  "  it  can  compare  nothing 
but-its-own  ideas."  l  In  order  to  test  the  truth  of 
its  own  ideas,  the  mind  ought  to  be  able  to  compare 
them  with  the  things  which  they  copy.  But  this 
is  impossible,  (a)  because  the  idea  caa.Lfi.likfijaathing 
but  another  idea,2  and  (6)  because.  t_he__min.d,  on 
LQcke's  view,  is  incapable  of  knowing  things  without 
the  medium  of  ideas.3  Further,  jince  external 
material  things  cannot  be  known  directly,  it  will  be 
necessary  to  show  that  they  perform  some  useful 
practical  function,  if  we  are  to  be  justified  in  retaining 
them  even  as  postulates.  But  Locke's  own  account*" . 
of  material  substance  shows  how  incapable  material 
things  are  of  undertaking  the  task  he  has  assigned 
to  them,  for,  as  in  his  view  matter  is  wholly  passive,  | 
it  is  unable  actively  to  produce  ideas  in  us.  Berkeley^ 
accordingly  thinks  that,  since  Locke's  external 
things  have  been  shown  to  be  theoretically  unknow 
able  and  practically  useless,  we  are  justified  in 
applying  Occam's  Razor,  and  retaining  ideas,  only. 
He  has  no  objection  to  calling  ideas  "  things,"  though 
"_ thing  "  is  wider  than  "  idea,"  provided  we  do  not 
import  into  the  termJlJthing  "  any.nQMorj_Ql.iaate- 
rial  existence,4  And  he  protests  against  the  use 
of  the  phrase,  "idea  of  something,"  on  the  ground 
1  i.  90.  2  i.  56.  3  i.  63.  4  i.  50. 


40  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

that  it  implies  the  false  suggestion  that  the  idea 
and  the  thing  are  different.1  For  Berkeley  the_ 
idea  is  the  thing  perceived,  and  the  thing  perceived 
is  the  idea,  "  By  idea  I  mean  any  sensible  or 
imaginable,  thing."  a  The  problem  of  the  relation 
of  idea  and  thing  thus  becomes  non-existent,  for 
iey._are  identical . 
Not  so  the  question  of  the  mind's  relation  to  its 
ideas.  That  is  a  real  problem.  Berkeley  speaks, 
as  Locke  had  done,  of  ideas  being  "  in  the  mind," 
and  once  or  twice  even  suggests  that  the  mind  is 
nothing  but  these  constituent  ideas.  He  very  soon 
abandoned  that  theory,  but  there  is  some  justifica 
tion  for  the  view  that  in  the  Commonplace  Book  an 
idea  is  regarded  as  some  kind  of  mental  modification. 
Yet  in  the  Commonplace  Book  we  also  have  the 
reiterated  assertion  that  the  idea  is  the  object  of  the 
mind.3  "  The  house  itself,  the  church  itself,  is  an 
idea,  i.e.  an  object — immediate  object — of  thought."  4 
To  Berkeley's  treatment  of  this  problem  we  must 
return  later.  In  the  meantime  it  is  sufficient  to 
note  that  the  important  thing  for  Berkeley  is  that 
the  .universe  consists  solely  of  minds  and  ideas. 

His  study  of  Locke's  and  Descartes'  theory  of 
primary  and  secondary  qualities  also  helped  to  lead 
him  to  this  conclusion.  Locke,  largely  following 
Descartes,  had  developed  the  distinction  between 
/"•  primary  and  secondary  qualities.  Primary  qualities 
are  extension,  solidity,  figure,  number,  motion  and 
rest.  All  others  are  secondary.  Primary  or  real 
qualities  actually  belong  to  the  thing,  whether  it 
is  perceived  or  not ;  but  secondary  or  imputed 

1  i.  35.  2  i.  47.  3  i.  51.  *  i.  9. 

v  r ' 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       41 

qualities  rkwrmt  inVmm  in  th^ihlhing  but  depend  for 
^nce  on  our  perception  of  them.  Only 
in  the  case  of  primary  qualities  7s  the  idea  like  the 
flginal.  ^Their  patterns  do  really  exist  in  the .._ 


Bodies  themselves."7  But  with  secondary  qualities^ 
"  there  is  nothing  like  our  ideas  existing  in  the  bodies 
themselves." J  Ideas  of  secondary 


entirely  dependent  on  the  mind  which  perceives 
them.  Now  Berkeley  points  out  that  Locke's  argu 
ments  for  the  mind-dependent  existence s  ^secondary 
qualities  may  be  applied  also  to  primary-qualities.2 
He  holds  that  Locke  has  failed  to  make  out  a  case 
for  the  different  treatment  of  primary  and  secondary 
qualities,  and  maintains  that  ideas  of  primary 
qualities  must  be  reduced  to  the  same  level  as  ideas 
of  secondary  qualities.  Both  alike  are  entirely 
dependent  on  being  perceived  ;  and  the  .only_xeality 
is  mind  and  its  ideas. 

But  Berkeley  insists  that  this  is  reality.  He 
admits,  indeed,  that  at  first  sight  his  argument 
against  .the  independent  existence  of  primary  qualities 
seems  to  deprive  us  of  reality.  The  reality  of  ex 
tension,  figure,  solidity  and  so  on  seems  to  have 
vanished.  But  this  is  only  in  seeming.  Berkeley 
maintains  that  his  theory  conserves  reality,  and  he 
is  inclined  to  think  that  it  is  the  only  one  that  does.3 

Berkeley's  theory  of  reality,  like  his  theory  of 
knowledge,  is  very  closely  connected  with  Locke's 
doctrine,  and,  if  we  would  understand  its  significance, 
we  must  examine  how  Berkeley  developed  it  by 
criticism  of  Locke. 

Locke's  doctrine  of  reality  follows  directly  from 

1  Essay,  n.  viii.  15.  2  i.  59.  3  i.  23. 


42  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

his  theory  of  knowledge.  For  Locke  the  only 
objects  of  knowledge  are  ideas  ;  and  ideas,  distin 
guished  according  to  their  source,  may  be  classified^ 
as  we  have  already  pointed  out,  as  ideas  of  sensatior 
or  ideas  of  reflection.  But  there  is  another  distinc 
tion  drawn  by  Locke,  to  which,  though  it  is  of  greal 
importance,  we  have  not  yet  paid  attention.  That 
is  the  distinction  between  simple  ideas  and  complex 
ideas.  Simple  ideas  are  the  ultimate  unanalysable 
elements  of  all  knowledge,  and  in  its  apprehension 
of  them  the  mind  is  wholly  passive  and  receptive 
On  the  other  hand,  in  complex  ideas,  which  resul 
from  the  union  or  composition  of  several  simple  ideas 
the  active  operation  of  the  mind  is  displayed 
Regarding  simple  ideas  as  the  material  and  founda 
tion  of  all  knowledge,  the  mind  combines,  by  deter 
minate  processes,  certain  of  them  which  are  regular!} 
found  together  in  our  experience  into  aggregates  01 
compounds  ;  and  to  each  of  the  complex  ideas  thus 
formed  we  assign  a  name,  and  come  to  regard  it  as 
representing  one  thing. 

Now,  this  would  be  impossible,  said  Locke,  unless 
some  "  substance "  existed  to  account  for  the 
coherence  of  simple  ideas.  Without  some  support 
or  substratum  simple  ideas  would  fall  apart  ;  and, 
if  nothing  but  simple  ideas  existed,  knowledge  would 
not  be  possible,  for  knowledge  depends  on  the 
practicability  of  combining  and  compounding  them. 
Thus  reality  depends  on  substance  :  substance  is 
the  support  or  substratum  of  real  things,  and  without 
this  substratum  permanence  and  self-identity,  the 
two  ultimate  characteristics  of  reality,  would  not 
be  possible. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       43 

What,  then,  is  substance,  which  apparently  dis 
charges  an  indispensable  function  in  the  universe  ? 
Locke  admitted  that  he  could  give  no  account  of  it. 
We  no  more  know  what  the  substratum  or  support 
of  things  is  than  the  Indian  philosopher  did  who 
declared  that  the  world  is  supported  by  an  elephant, 
the  elephant  by  a  tortoise,  and  the  tortoise  by — he 
knew  not  what.  Substance,  then,  is  an  obscure 
idea  of  somewhat — we  know  not  what.1 

At  first  Berkeley  seems  simply  to  have  taken  over 
this  conception  from  Locke.  Thus  in  one  of  his 
early  entries  he  claims  that  he  has  demonstrative 
knowledge  of  the  existence  of  bodies,  meaning  by 
"  bodies  "  "  combinations  of  powers  in  an  unknown 
substratum."  2  But  from  such  a  conception  of  an 
unknown  support  of  qualities  or  powers  he  very 
soon  emancipated  himself. 

Against    the    view    he    brings    the    very    natural 
argument  that,  as  we  can  in  no  way  know  the  support 
or  substratum,  and  as  it  performs  no  indispensable 
function,  it  is  quite  unnecessary  to  assume.it.     The| 
reason  why  no  account  can  be  given  of  this  substra- 1 
turn  is  not  that  it  is  obscure,  as  Locke  supposed,  but  I 
thn.t  it  is  non-existent.     And  Berkeley  suggests  thatf^ 
all  we  mean  by  the  substance  of  a  thing  is  "  the 
collection  of  concrete  ideas  inc1n(fef|  in  thft*-  thinp-." 
In  this  sense,  Berkeley  allows,  we  may  still  speak 
of    the    substance    of    a    thing.     But    substance    in 
general^  or  the  abstract  idea  of  substance,  is  nothing 
but  a  philosophical  fiction. 

('  ranted,  then,  that  Locke's  substance  is  an  im 
possibility,  what  gives  permanence  and  reality  to 

1  Essay,  n.  xxiii.  2.  2  i.  64.  3  i.  20. 


44  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

things  ?  At  first  Berkeley  was  inclined  to  assume 
the  existence  of  certain  mysterious  powers  to  per 
form  this  function.1  But  he  soon  recognised  that 
such  powers,  of  which  we  can  give  no  account,  are 
in  no  better  case  than  Locke's  substance,  and  if 
Locke's  substance  be  abandoned,  these  obscure 
powers  cannot  be  retained. 

The  conclusion  to  which  Berkeley  is  finally  driven 
is  that  the  reality  of  things  rests  on  no  substance  or 
set  of  powers,  but  depends  on  being  perceived.  This 
is  what  Berkeley  regards  as  his  great  discovery— 
esse  est  percipi.  That  this  conviction  dawned  on 
him  very  early  in  his  philosophical  development  has 
already  been  pointed  out  ;  but  it  is  interesting  to 
notice  that  this,  which  is  usually  regarded  as  the 
most  original  element  in  his  whole  philosophy,  had 
already  been  suggested  by  Locke.  "  When  ideas 
are  in  our  minds,"  said  Locke,  "  we  consider  them 
as  being  actually  there,  .  .  .'which  is  that  they  exist 
or  have  existence."  2  For  Locke  the  esse  of  ideas 
is  percipi.  Now,  Berkeley  held,  as  we  have  seen, 
that  things  are  simply  collections  of  ideas,  and  there 
fore,  adopting  Locke's  view  of  the  esse  of  ideas  and 
applying  it  universally,  he  reaches  the  conclusion 
that  the  esse  of  all  collections  of  ideas,  i.e.  all  things, 
is  percipi.  The  general  principle  may,  therefore,  be 
stated  as  esse  est  percipi. 

But  this  definition,  Berkeley  sees,  is  not  sufficiently 
comprehensive.  It  is  true  only  of  one  of  the  two 
classes  into  which  Locke  divided  things.  Locke 
drew  a  distinction  sharp  on  the  whole  between 
active  things  and  passive  things.  Passive  things 

1  i.  60,  61,  64.  2  Essay,  11.  vii.  7. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       45 

are  those  which  are  not  self-subsistent,  but  depend 
on  something  outside  themselves,  while  active  things 
are  self-supporting  and  substantial.  It  should  not 
be  overlooked  that  this  distinction,  which  is  of  the 
utmost  importance  in  Berkeley's  philosophy,  is 
simply  taken  over  by  him  from  Locke.1  Berkeley, 
of  course,  translates  it  into  his  own  terminology,  and 
holds  that  while  passive  things  depend  on  being 
perceived,  the  existence  of  active  things  (or  persons) 
consists  not  in  being  perceived  but  in  perceiving. 
Thus  the  complete  definition  of  existence  is  as 
follows  :  "  Existence  is  percipi  or  percipere."  2 

Hence  the  pivot  of  Berkeley's  whole  doctrine  of 
reality  is  the  mind.  Active  things  exist  as  percipient, 
i.e^.  a,H  mind  a  ;  and  passive  things  exist  as  objects  of 
perception,  i.e.  as  dependent  on  the  mind.  All 
reality,  then,  is  connected  with  the  mind,  and  it  is 
obviously  of  the  greatest  importance  for  Berkeley's 
theory  of  reality  to  know  exactly  what  the  mind  is . 

1  At  the  risk  of  labouring  the  obvious,  I  should  like  to  repeat 
that  the  features  of  Berkeley's  theory  which  excited  most  atten 
tion  in  his  own  day  on  account  of  their  apparently  paradoxical 
character  were  immediately  derived  from  suggestions  made  by 
Locke,  though  never  elaborated  by  him. 

2  Under  percipere  Berkeley  here  means  to  include  volitions 
and  other  active  operations  of  the  mind.     In  the  margin  of  the 
Commonplace  Book,  opposite  the  entry  quoted  above,  and  with 
reference  to  the  word  Percipere,  he  adds  a  note,  "  or  velle,  i.e. 
agere."     He  hesitates  a  good  deal  whether  to  affirm  that  the 
mind  is  active  in  perception.     On  the  whole,  he  seems  to  incline 
to  the  view  that  (a)  in  sense -perception  the  mind  is  passive  and 
receptive,  while  (6)  in  imagination  (which  he  sometimes  includes 
under  percipere)  the  mind  is  active.     But  he  also  maintains, 
without  vacillation,  that  it  is  really  volition  that  constitutes  the 
activity  of  the  mind  ;  and,  as  he  believes  that  volition  is  impos 
sible  apart  from  perception,  the  activity  of  volitional  experience 
confers  a  certain  degree  of  activity  on  percipient  experience. 
(Cf.  Commonplace  Book,  i.  34,  37,  47,  52,  83.) 


46  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

In  his  investigation  of  the  meaning  of  the  mind,  he 
again  has  recourse  to  a  consideration  of  Locke's 
theory.  ,x 

To  the  question  What  is  the  mind  ?  Locke  had 
given  two  distinct  answers,  both  of  which  occupied 
Berkeley's  attention. 

(1)  The   mind  is,   on   Locke's   view,   apart  from 
experience,  a  piece  of  white  paper  whose  blanks  have 
yet  to  be  filled.     It  is  a  tabula  rasa  on  which  ideas 
must  be  impressed  ab  extra.     In  perception  the  mind 
is  thus  purely  passive  ;   it  depends  for  its  knowledge 
wholly  on  what  it  receives  from  the  external  world, 
and  it  can  exercise  no  active  function  at  all.1    Locke 
disagrees  with  the  Cartesian  view  that  because  it  is 
the  essence  of  the  mind  to  think  therefore  the  mind 
always  thinks.    "  Every  drowsy  nod  shakes  their  doc 
trine,  who  teach  that  the  soul  is  always  thinking."  2 
Berkeley    criticises    Locke,3    and    returns    to    the 
Cartesian  theory,  for  he  sees  clearly  Locke's  incon 
sistency.     If  the  mind  is  purely  passive,  how  does 
it  come  by  complex  ideas  ?     Can  the  piece  of  white 
paper  make  marks  upon  itself  ?     Complex  ideas  are 
the  result  of  the  voluntary  operation  of  the  mind  in 
dealing    with    simple    ideas    impressed   upon   it    in 
perception.     But  a  mind  which  voluntarily  operates 
cannot  be  passive. 

(2)  On  the  other  hand,  Locke  holds  also  that  the 

1  In  the  fourth  edition  of  the  Essay,  Locke,  perceiving  the 
inconsistency  into  which  he  was  led  by  this  doctrine,  introduced 
a  paragraph  or  two  pointing  out  that  in  certain  cases  the  mind 
might  exercise  active  functions.     (Essay,  n.  xii.  1.) 

2  Es.say,  n.  i.  13. 

3  "  Locke  seems  to  be  mistaken  when  he  says  thought  is  not 
essential  to  the  mind  "  (i.  34). 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       47 

mind  is  a  complex  spiritual  substance.1  When  he 
speaks  of  the  activity  of  the  mind,  he  is  usually 
thinking  of  this  theory.  He  holds  that  the  same 
arguments  as  lead  to  the  belief  in  material  substance 
justify  our  belief  in  spiritual  substance,  for  only  those 
whose  thoughts  are  immersed  in  matter  find  it 
more  difficult  to  conceive  spiritual  than  material 
substance. 

This   theory   also   influenced   Berkeley.     He   had 
denied  the  existence  of  retrial  auhfltffliP0^    main 
taining  tb*+-  «  *-*""g  is  nodiing  hut  a  collection  of 
sensible  qualities  ;  and  he  was  inclined  to  think  that 
consistency  required  him  to  deny  the  existence  also 
of  spiritual  substance,  and  affirm  that  the  mind  is 
only  an  aggregate  of  ideas.     In  the  Commonplace 
Book  he  actually  suggests  this,  and  thus  anticipates 
Hume    in    reducing    his    theory    to     consistency. 
"  Mind,"  he  says,   "  is  a  congeries  of  perceptions. 
Take  away  perceptions  and  you  take  away  the  mind. 
Put  the  perceptions  and  you  put  the  mind."       He 
means  to  deny,  as  Hume  afterwards  did,  that  there 
is  any  entity  apart  from  ideas,  and  asserts  roundly 
that  the  understanding  is  simply  perceptions  and 
the  will  nothing  but  volitions.     Self,   soul,  under 
standing,  will,  are  merely  names  for  collections  of 
ideas    or    volitions.     Apart   from    these    ideas    and 
volitions,  which  wholly  constitute  them,  they  have 
no  existence.3 

1  Locke  left  the  question  open  whether  spiritual  substance  is 
really  spiritual  or  simply  very  finely  material.     The  latter  inter 
pretation  of  the  spiritual  was  well  known  in  the  Schools,  and 
Locke  admits  the  possibility  that  spiritual  substance  may  really 
be  very  fine  material  substance.     This  was  anathema  to  Berkeley. 

2  i.  27,  28.  3  i.  27,  31,  38,  41,  51,  53,  56,  69. 


48  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Though  Berkeley  reiterates  this  view  and  is 
apparently  satisfied  with  its  theoretical  consistency, 
certain  practical  considerations  made  it  impossible 
for  him  to  rest  in  it.  Is  it  quite  certain,  he  asks,  that 
the  understanding  is  nothing  over  and  above  its 
perceptions  ?  Still  more,  "  what  must  one  think  of 
the  will  and  passions  ?  "  *  Is  the  will,  as  Hume  was 
later  to  say,  nothing  but  the  passions  ?  Berkeley's 
moral  and  religious  interest  prevented  his  believing 
this.  The  will  must  be  distinct  from,  and  superior 
to,  the  passions.  The  understanding  is  more  than 
the  ideas.  Both  understanding  and  will  are  active 
and  may  be  identified  with  one  another  and  with 
spirit.  But  Berkeley  prefers  to  regard  under 
standing  and  will  as  at  least  verbally  distinct.  "  The 
concrete  of  the  will  and  understanding  I  might  call 
mind."  2  Mind  as  an  entity  must  exist. 

Berkeley  was  led  to  the  same  conclusion  by  the 
consideration  of  the  problem  of  the  unity  of  experi 
ence.  If  there  is  no  matter,  but  only  sensible 
qualities,  and  if  there  is  no  mind,  but  only  fleeting 
ideas,  how  can  mind  have  any  unity  ?  I  cannot 
even  speak  of  my  ideas,  because  I  do  not  exist  apart 
from  the  succession  of  ideas.  An  experience  of  this 
sort  would  be  utter  chaos.  "  What  mean  you," 
Berkeley  asks,  "  by  my  perceptions,  my  volitions  ?  "  3 
Berkeley  sees  that  it  is  necessary  to  postulate  the 
existence  of  a  personal  self  to  guarantee  the  unity  of 
experience.  But  he  deliberately  avoided  giving  any 
account  of  the  meaning  of  personality.  "  Mem.," 
he  says,  "  carefully  to  omit  defining  of  person,  or 
making  much  mention  of  it."  4 

M.  28,         ^i.  41.         3i.  45.     Italics  mine.         «i.  41. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       49 

Still  another  point  impressed  upon  Berkeley  the 
necessity  of  a  permanent  mind  or  self.  As  we  have 
seen,  ideas  are  passive,  "  impotent  things."  Hence 
an  active  mind  is  necessary  to  bring  them  into 
complexes  and  manipulate  them.  A  collection  of 
ideas  by  itself  will  always  remain  passive.  Thus 
the  active  mind  or  spirit  must  be  more  than  any  idea 
or  congeries  of  ideas. 

But  the  problem  of  identity  and  permanence  must 
be  probed  further.  Granted  that  there  are  minds, 
and  that  existence  means  simply  perceiving  and  being 
perceived,  what  account  can  we  give  of  the  perma 
nence  and  identity  of  ideas  or  things  and  of  minds 
or  persons  ?  Neither  persons  nor  things  have 
identity,  if  identity  means  durational  continuity. 
Berkeley  is  at  first  inclined  to  give  up  the  permanence 
both  of  things  and  persons,  and  he  is  thus  forced 
to  seek  some  other  ground  for  their  identity.  With 
regard  to  things,  he  points  out  that  their  existence 
is  often  interrupted  by  "  divers  beginnings  and 
endings."  x  Ideas  are  particular  perishing  existents. 
Nor  do  persons  have  an  uninterrupted  existence.2 
The  mind  does  not  exist  in  sleep.3  The  mind  exists 
only  so  long  as  it  is  actually  perceiving,  and  things 
exist  only  when  they  are  being  perceived.  But 
Berkeley's  efforts  to  find  any  adequate  ground  for 
the  identity  of  persons  and  things,  after  maki^or  this 
admission,  proved  fruitless  ;  and  he  was  thereto, 
compelled  to  retrace  his  steps  and  attempt  to 
establish  the  permanence  both  of  things  and  persons. 
In  dealing  with  persons,  he  simply  reaffirmed, 
against  Locke,  the  Cartesian  view  that  the  mind 

1  i.  72.  2  i.  71.  3  i.  34. 


50  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

always  thinks.     Even  in  sleep  the  mind  is  active 
and  thus  the  mind  as  thinking  substance  is  permai 
nent  and  self -identical .    Mind  is  essentially  percipient  i 
and  hence  permanently  existent. 

But  the  permanence  of  things  cannot  be  so  easily 
preserved.  It  will  not  do  to  say  that  things  an 
always  perceived  by  finite  minds,  because  that  carj 
be  experimentally  disproved .  Berkeley  first  attempts 
to  maintain  the  permanence  of  things  by  an  inter 
esting  variety  of  the  Cartesian  cogito  ergo  sun. 
argument.  According  to  this  argument,  I  cannol 
doubt  my  own  existence,  because  the  very  doubt 
the  thought,  proves  that  a  thinker  exists.  N 
Berkeley  believes  that  things  exist  whenever  the} 
are  perceived  or  imagined  or  thought  of.  Hence 
the  very  question  whether  a  thing  exists  proves  thai 
it  does.  As  mentioned,  it  exists.1  But  Berkeley 
soon  saw  that  this  explanation  is  untenable.  In  the 
first  place,  the  existence  of  an  object  merely  thought 
differs  from  the  existence  of  an  object  directly 
perceived.  In  the  second  place,  what  happens  tc 
the  thing  when  it  is  neither  perceived  nor  imagined, 
nor  thought  on  nor  referred  to  in  any  way  ?  It  must 
simply  vanish.  But  Berkeley  could  not  rest  in  this 
conclusion.  It  is  necessary,  in  order  to  account  foi 
our  practical  social  and  moral  relations  to  our  fellow- . 
men,  that  things  should  exist  even  when  they  are,! 

jt  being  perceived  or  referred  to  in  any  way.  The 
permanence  of  things  cannot,  therefore,  depend  on 
our  finite  minds.  It  is  based  on  the  fact  that  they 
exist  as  powers,  or  potentially,  in  the  mind  of  God.5 
But  this  is  not  an  actual  existence.3  Berkeley  is 
M.  61.  3i.  71. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       51 

thus  forced  to  distinguish  two  kinds  of  existence,  a 
permanent  potential  existence  in  the  mind  of  God, 
and  an  actual  intermittent  existence  only  when  things 
are  being  actually  perceived  by  finite  beings.  This 
intermittent  existence  owes  what  unity  it  has  to  the 
fact  that  its  potential  permanence  is  guaranteed  by 
God. 

Even  here  Berkeley  was  influenced  by  Locke.     It 
is  true  that  God  in  Berkeley's  system  is  much  more 
important  than  in  Locke's,  but  the  function  which 
Berkeley  makes  God  perform  is  suggested  by  Locke. 
When  pressed,  Locke  is  unable  to  explain  how  we 
come  to  have  ideas.     In  the  last  resort,  he  thinks, 
God  is  responsible  for  the  regularity  and  uniformity 
of  our  experience.     "  I  see  or  perceive  or  have  ideas 
•  when  it  pleases  God  that  I  should,  but  in  a  way  that 
:  I  cannot  comprehend."     In  imagination  I  can  bring 
ideas  before  my  own  mind  by  my  own  volition,  but 
not  in  perception.     The  regularity  of  my  perceptual 
experience  depends  partly  on  God,  and  partly  on 
the  material  supports  of  ideas.     As  Berkeley  elimi 
nates  material  substance,  God  is  left  to  sustain  the 
whole    burden    of    securing    the    permanence    and 
identity  of  things  and  the  regularity  of  perceptual 
f  experience.     Berkeley  agrees  with  Locke  that  while 
»  perceptual  experience  must  ultimately  be  referred 
to  God  as  its  ground,  we  are  the  causes  both  of  our 
|  imaginative  and  volitional  experience. 

Berkeley  believes,  as  we  have  seen,  that  minds 

•are   necessary   for   the   constitution   of   experience. 

iBut  so  far  we  have  not  yet  considered  how  minds 

'Imay  be   known.     Minds  for  Berkeley   are   sharply 

Idistinguished  from  ideas,  and  therefore  we  can  have 


52  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

no  perceptual  or  imaginative  knowledge  of  minds 
How  then  do  we  know  minds  ?  On  this  problem 
also  Berkeley's  efforts  to  reach  a  solution  show  th< 
influence  of  Locke.  Locke  maintained  that  know 
ledge  of  the  mind  is  possible.  If  we  regard  the  mine 
as  a  tabula  rasa,  then  the  knowledge  we  have  of  11 
is  intuitive.  On  the  other  hand,  if  we  take  the  mine 
to  be  a  spiritual  substance,  then  we  can  have  of  ii 
precisely  the  same  sort  of  knowledge  as  of  any  othei 
complex  idea.  Mind,  as  a  spiritual  substance,  know* 
itself,  as  a  spiritual  substance.  Thus  a  complex  ide* 
knows  itself.  The  difficulty  of  this  view  is  obvious 
A  complex  idea,  like  the  simple  ideas  of  which  ii 
is  compounded,  is  passive.  How  then  is  it  abl< 
actively  to  compound  itself  ?  It  must  be  active 
to  bring  together  the  complex  of  ideas  whicl 
constitute  it.  But  in  its  nature  it  is  passive. 

In  the  Commonplace  Book  Berkeley  tried  to  makt 
use  of  both  of  Locke's  explanations,  but  he  felt  tha' 
neither  of  these  views  was  really  satisfactory.  Botl 
of  them  are  inconsistent  with  his  doctrine  that  al 
our  knowledge  is  derived  from  the  senses.  Ez 
hypothesi,  intuitive  knowledge  is  neither  sense 
knowledge  itself,  nor  derived  from  sense -knowledge), 
It  is  a  unique  and  peculiar  sort  of  knowledge,  o:i 
which  we  can  give  no  account.  For  Berkeley  r 
was  a  scandalous  exception  to  his  doctrine,  and  on<: 
which  he  was  anxious  to  remove.  On  the  othe: 
hand,  the  view  that  an  idea  of  the  self  is  possible 
conflicts  equally  with  Berkeley's  theory  that  al 
knowledge  is  perceptual.  Berkeley's  introspection 
revealed  to  him  only  aggregates  of  ideas  in  perpetual 
flux.  Introspection  does  not  enable  us  to  form  ai 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT        53 

idea  of  the  mind  as  an  entity  distinct  from  the  series 
of  fleeting  perceptions.  It  is  impossible  to  perceive 
the  mind.  Must  we  then  conclude  that  the  mind  is 
utterly  unknowable  ? 

Hume,  arguing  in  precisely  the  same  way  as 
Berkeley,  that  no  idea  of  the  mind  is  possible,  took 
the  further  steps  of  affirming  that  the  self  is  therefore 
unknowable,  and  that  because  it  is  unknowable  it 
is  non-existent.  We  have  seen  that  Berkeley  was 
unable  to  rest  in  the  sceptical  denial  of  the  perma- 
'nence  of  the  self.  Equally  did  he  avoid  scepticism 
with  regard  to  the  knowability  of  the  self.  He  saw 
the  need  of  revising  his  doctrine  that  all  knowledge 
is  knowledge  of  ideas.  Nor  was  he  willing  to  take 
;refuge  in  intuition.  When  the  entities  of  which  it 
was  necessary  to  postulate  an  intuitive  knowledge 
were  only  one  or  two,  e.g.  the  self  and  God,  such 
[(important  exceptions  to  the  general  doctrine  that 
•ill  knowledge  is  sense-perception  might  perhaps  be 
allowed.  But  as  soon  as  it  became  clear  to  Berkeley 
j*;hat  it  would  be  necessary  to  admit  an  intuitive 
smowledge  of  whole  classes  of  things,  e.g.  volitions 
i  ind  other  mental  operations,  he  realised  that  it  would 
i)e  essential  to  modify  his  early  theory  of  knowledge.1 
Knowledge,  be  believed,  is  perceptual ;  but  it  cannot 
mil  be  perceptual.  There  must  be  another  kind  of 
Knowledge  of  such  things  as  selves,  volitions,  mental 
iterations,  and  relations.  Now  Berkeley  refused  to 
ye  content  with  the  obscurum  per  obscurius  of 
f erring  such  knowledge  to  intuition.  What  kind 
f  knowledge  is  it,  then,  that  we  have  of  such  objects? 
n  the  Commonplace  Book  Berkeley  has  no  answer 
1  i.  24. 


54  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

to  this  question,  though  he  is  convinced  that  (a)  we 
can  have  no  idea  of  them,  and  (b)  we  can  know  them 
somehow. 

Of  what  nature  this  non-ideal  knowledge  would 
be  Berkeley  does  not  make  clear.  But  he  suggests 
that  it  would  be  by  way  of  "  pure  intellect,"  for 
in  such  knowledge  the  mind  is  active  and 
thoughts  called  "the  interior  operations  of  themind." 1 
And  Berkeley  once  or  twice  speaks  of  the  mind 
"  considering  "  things,  in  distinction  from  perceiving 
or  imagining  them.  Such  entries  as  these,  vague 
as  they  are,  suggest  that  even  in  the  days  of  the 
Commonplace  Book  he  was  engaged  on  the  problem 
of  the  nature  of  what  he  afterwards  came  to  cal 
"  notions."  With  this  notional  knowledge  of  selves 
mental  operations,  and  moral  conceptions  he  intended 
to  deal  in  Part  II.  of  the  Principles.2 

So  far,  we  have  been  dealing  with  the  implications 
of  what  Locke  called  the  complex  idea  of  substance 
But  substance  was  not  the  only  kind  of  complex  idea 
mentioned  by  Locke.  He  assumed  the  existence  o 
two  other  types  of  complex  idea,  which  he  callec, 
respectively  modes  and  relations.  Now,  modes  anc 
relations  stand  on  a  very  different  footing  fron 
substances.  Substance  is  not  only  self -subsisting 
it  also  serves  as  the  support  of  all  qualities.  Bu 
modes  and  relations  cannot  subsist  of  themselves' 
Modes  depend  upon  substances,  or  are  attributes  o 

ii.  81. 

2  It  is  quite  certain  that,  when  the  Commonplace  Book  wa 
written,  Berkeley  believed  that  this  non-ideal  knowledge  is  th 
only  kind  of  acquaintance  we  can  have  with  the  self,  the  wil 
and  mental  operations  in  general.  Of  these,  he  repeatedly  state;: 
we  can  have  no  idea.  (Cf.  Commonplace  Book,  i.  35,  36,  49.) 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       55 

substances  ;  and  relations,  depending  on  the  com 
parison  of  one  idea  with  another,  have  no  existence 
apart  from  the  ideas  which  they  join,  or  on  which 
they  terminate.  Hence  modes  and  relations  can 
never  be  independent.  They  cannot  exist  by  them 
selves  :  they  exist  only  as  dependent  upon  substances. 

On  the  whole,  Berkeley  paid  very  little  attention 
to  Locke's  doctrine  of  modes  and  relations,  but  even 
here  certain  lines  of  influence  may  be  traced. 

With  regard  to.  modes  Berkeley  differs  in  an  im 
portant  respect  from  Locke.  For  Locke  all  modes 
are  complex  ideas,  which  the  mind  has  made  "  by 
combining  several  simple  ideas  into  one  compound 
one."  l  With  this  definition  Berkeley  refuses  to 
agree,  for  in  his  view  a  complex  idea  is  not  a  com 
pound,  not  one  idea,  but  simply  an  aggregate  of 
several  simple  ideas,  and,  though  we  may  express 
this  aggregate  by  a  single  word,  no  idea  corresponds 
to  it.  Again,  Berkeley  holds,  modes  cannot  depend 
upon,  or  be  affections  of,  material  substance,  for  it 
is  non-existent.  He  agrees  with  Locke  that  modes 
are  not  self -subsisting  :  "  they  are  not  so  much 
existences  as  manners  of  the  existence  of  persons."  a 
He  thus  substitutes  spirit  for  material  substance  as 
the  support  of  modes.  He  takes  little  notice  of 
Locke's  distinction  between  simple  and  mixed  modes. 
The  distinction  depends  on  whether  the  simple 
constituents  are  of  similar  or  different  sorts.  If  the 
mode  is  simply  the  repetition  of  the  same  simple 
idea,  as  a  score,  for  instance,  is  a  repetition  of  unity, 
then  the  mode  is  simple  ;  but  if  the  simple  ideas 
[Compounded  to  make  the  complex  one  are  of  different 

1  Essay,  n.  xii.  1.  2  i.  59. 


56  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

sorts,  e.g.  as  beauty  involves  different  ideas  of  colour, 
shape,  and  so  on,  the  mode  is  mixed.  In  the  Common 
place  Book  he  uses  Locke's  terminology,  but  for  him 
the  distinction  is  strictly  unmeaning.  If  a  complex 
idea  is  merely  a  bare  aggregate  (and  this,  as  we  have 
seen,  is  the  only  meaning  Berkeley  is  willing  to  assign 
to  it),  it  does  not  matter  whether  that  aggregate  is  a 
collection  of  similar  or  different  ideas. 

Of  relations,  the  second  of  Locke's  types  of  complex 
ideas  which  we  are  at  present  considering,  Berkeley 
has  little  to  say.  He  agrees  with  Locke,  as  we  have 
seen,  that  relations  exist ;  but  he  holds  that  we  can 
have  no  idea  of  them.  We  can  use  relations,  talk 
about  them,  and  express  them  in  language  by 
particles.  They  have  a  meaning,  and  that  is  all 
we  can  say  of  them. 

In  connection  with  one  particular  type  of  relation, 
however,  Berkeley  paid  a  good  deal  of  attention  to 
Locke's  theory.  The  relation  in  question  is  the 
causal  relation.  Locke  had  confused  his  treatment 
of  the  problem  by  introducing  an  artificial  distinction 
between  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect  and  the  mode 
of  power.  But  Berkeley  has  no  artificial  schema 
to  support,  and  he  holds  that  the  problems  of  power 
and  causality  are  essentially  the  same.  In  the 
Commonplace  Book,  we  may  remind  ourselves,  his 
world  consists  of  (i)  God,  (ii)  finite  selves,  and  (iii) 
ideas.  He  first  states  that  no  idea  can  be  a  cause, 
for  all  ideas  are  passive.  So  far  ho  agrees  with 
Locke,1  who  maintained  that  God  and  spirits  mani 
fest  active  power,  while  things  (i.e.  Berkeley's  ideas) 
are  passive  powers.  Idea-things  for  Berkeley  as  for 

1  Locke  is  not  quite  positive  on  this  point.     (Cf.  Essay,  u.  xxi.  2.) 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       57 

Locke  are  susceptible  but  not  productive  of  change. 
Thus,  for  Berkeley  as  for  Locke  only  God  and  selves 
are  active  ;  and  they  alone  can  strictly  be  called 
causes.1  At  one  time  Berkeley  thought  of  allowing 
causality  to  idea-things,  while  carefully  distinguish 
ing  this  physical  causality  from  spiritual  or  true 
causality.2  But  later  on  he  deemed  it  better  to 
restrict  causality  to  spiritual  causes  alone,  and  to 
term  idea- things  "  occasions."  An  idea-thing  may 
be  the  occasion  of  an  action  or  thought,  but  it  cannot 
really  be  the  cause.3 

The  problem  next  arises  how  to  apportion  causality 
between  the  self  and  God.  In  the  Commonplace 
Book  Berkeley  vacillates,  at  one  time  tending  to  the 
extreme  theory  of  Malebranche  that  God  is  the  sole 
cause,  at  another  to  the  common-sense  belief  that 
finite  selves  exercise  a  real  causality.  On  the  whole, 
his  view  in  the  Commonplace  Book  is  that  God  is  the 
ultimate  cause  of  all  things,  but  the  proximate  cause 
only  of  immediate  perceptions.  Finite  selves  are  the 
proximate  causes  of  imaginative  and  volitional 
experience. 

So  far,  in  considering  Berkeley's  relation  to  Locke, 
we  have  not  adverted  to  the  aspect  of  Locke's  theory 
which,  more  than  any  other,  led  Berkeley  to  devote 
himself  to  the  task  of  refuting  him.  This  was 
Locke's  scepticism. 

That  Berkeley  was  hostile  to  the  deists  has  already 
been  pointed  out.  Now,  the  deists  themselves 
regarded  Locke  as  the  father  of  their  scepticism,  and 
though  Locke  went  out  of  his  way  to  disclaim  the 

1  There  is,  however,  another  side  to  Locke's  view.         2  i.  55. 
3  i.  55. 


58  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

paternity,  Berkeley  seems  to  have  been  inclined  to 
impute  it  to  him.  At  any  rate,  he  felt  it  necessary, 
in  his  practical  efforts  to  stamp  out  "  atheism,"  to 
aim  straight  at  what  he  considered  the  sceptical 
tendencies  of  Locke's  theory  of  knowledge  ;  and  his 
arguments  to  prove  Locke  a  sceptic  are  quite 
ingenious.  He  shows  that,  on  Locke's  own  theory, 
he  cannot  possibly  escape  absolute  scepticism. 

Locke  divided  knowledge  into  three  kinds  which 
he  called  respectively  intuitive,  demonstrative,  and 
sensitive.  He  believed  that  only  in  intuition  and 
demonstration  is  certainty  possible,  for  only  there  do 
we  have  "  real,. knowledge.''  Of  all  the  kinds  of 
knowledge  intuition  is,  Locke  affirms,  the  most 
certain.  By  it  we  perceive  the  agreement  or  dis 
agreement  of  two  ideas  immediately,  without  any 
process  of  reasoning  or  inference  ;  e.g.  "  that  white 
is  not  black,  that  a  circle  is  not  a  triangle,  that  three 
are  more  than  two  and  equal  to  one  and  two."  l 
Demonstrative  knowledge,  on  the  other  hand,  is  not 
immediate  ;  it  is  always  mediated  by  other  ideas, 
and  depends  on  processes  of  reasoning  which  we  call 
proofs.  Demonstrative  knowledge  depends  for  its 
certainty  on  the  possibility  of  proving  relations 
between  abstract  ideas. 

All  other  so-called  knowledge,  Locke  maintained, 
is  not  really  knowledge  at  all,  but  only  opinion.  For 
all  knowledge  not  based  on  intuition  and  demon 
stration  is,  in  the  last  resort,  sensitive  knowledge, 
and  thus  can  give  no  certainty.  For  in  mere  sense- 
perception  we  are  confined  within  the  limits  of  our 
own  ideas,  and  can  never  reach  reality. 

1  Essay,  iv.  ii.  1 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       59 

For  the  purposes  of  criticism  Berkeley  accepts 
this  classification  of  knowledge  ;  and  argues  that, 
as  it  can  be  shown  that  the  first  two  kinds  of  know 
ledge  do  not  give  certainty,  and  as  Locke  himself 
admits  that  the  third  does  not,  he  cannot  escape 
absolute  scepticism. 

Berkeley  reminds  us  that  demonstrative  know 
ledge  for  Locke  depends  on  proving  relations  of 
agreement  and  disagreement  by  means  of  abstract 
ideas..  Now,  Berkeley  has  already  shown  that  such 
a  conception  of  abstract  ideas  as  is  cherished  by 
Locke  is  self -contradictory,  and  it  therefore  follows, 
he  holds,  that  the  vaunted  certainty  of  his  demon 
strative  knowledge  will  vanish. 

Thus,  as  Locke  himself  admits  that  sensitive 
knowledge  supplies  no  certainty,  and  as  demon 
strative  knowledge  (at  least  on  Locke's  view  of  it) 
has  been  shown  to  be  impossible,  it  follows  that 
only  intuition  remains  to  save  him  from  utter 
scepticism. 

But  intuitive  knowledge,  Berkeley  maintains,  is 
only  a  broken  reed  ;  and  so  far  is  it  from  being  able 
of  itself  to  bear  our  weight  that  unless  we  can  bring 
support  to  it  from  other  quarters  we  are  not  justified 
in  ascribing  any  certainty  at  all  to  it.  We  often 
think  we  have  an  intuitive  certainty  of  what  is 
either  unreal  or  non-existent.  Again,  what  seems 
intuitively  true  to  one  man  may  seem  intuitively 
false  to  another,  and,  if  our  only  standard  of  certainty 
is  intuition,  it  will  be  impossible  to  decide  which  of 
these  conflicting  intuitions  really  gives  truth.  Thus, 
here  also,  Berkeley  urges,  Locke  is  necessarily 
involved  in  scepticism. 


60  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Berkeley's  own  theory  of  knowledge  is,  of  course, 
largely  modelled  on  Locke's  ;  but  he  believes  that 
the  changes  which  he  has  introduced  enable  him 
to  escape  the  force  of  the  criticisms  which  he  has 
just  brought  against  Locke.  Intuitive  knowledge 
he  wisely  avoids  as  much  as  possible,  for  he  sees  that 
the  criticisms  he  has  used  against  Locke's  theory 
are  valid  against  any  theory  of  intuition.  Therefore 
he  sets  no  store  by  it.1  But  he  believes  that  certainty 
is  possible  on  the  theories  of  sensitive  and  demon 
strative  knowledge  which  he  developed. 

He  claims,  in  the  first  place,  that  knowledge  in 
sense-perception  is  not  mere  opinion,  as  Locke  held, 
but  gives  absolute  certainty.  "  Certainly,"  he  says, 
"  I  cannot  err  in  matter  of  simple  perception."  2 
"  We  must  with  the  mob  place  certainty  in  the 
senses."  3  "  Certainty,  real  certainty,  is  of  sensible 
ideas."  And  though  Berkeley  came  later  to 
modify  his  belief  that  error  is  impossible  in  sensitive 
knowledge,  he  never  resiled  from  the  conviction 
that,  in  general,  the  senses  provide  us  with  certain 
knowledge  ;  and  he  always  regarded  it  as  a  great 
part  of  his  work  to  have  vindicated  the  senses  from 
the  aspersions  cast  upon  them  by  Locke  and  others. 

And  certain  knowledge  is  possible  also  in  demon 
stration.  But  by  demonstration  Berkeley  does  not 
mean,  as  Locke  did,  reasoning  by  means  of  inter 
vening  abstract  ideas  ;  he  means  reasoning  by  means 
of  words  or  signs.  "  Demonstration,"  he  says,  "  can 
be  only  verbal." 4  In  the  Commonplace  Book 
Berkeley  has  simply  adopted  the  extreme  nominalism 

1  Yet  he  occasionally  uses  intuition  rashly.     (Cf.  i.  24,  26.) 

2  i.  39.  3  i.  44.  *  i.  50.     Italics  mine. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       61 

of  Hobbes.  The  possibility  of  reasoning  depends  on 
the  demonstration  of  words.  In  reasoning  about 
particular  things  we  take  one  particular  to  stand  for 
or  represent  other  particulars  of  the  same  kind,  and 
to  designate  the  whole  class  of  particulars  we  use 
one  word.  We  pay  no  attention  to  the  differences 
the  particulars  :  they  bear  jme  iname^  and 


it  is  on  the  name  that  we  reason.  In  the  Common 
place  Book  Berkeley  simply  substitutes  words  for 
Locke's  abstract  ideas.  And  the  reason  he  gives 
for  the  demonstrability  of  words  or  signs  is  precisely 
that  which  Locke  finds  to  be  responsible  for  the 
possibility  of  demonstrating  relations  of  abstract 
ideas,  i.e.  that  they  are  made  by  us.1  Berkeley 
changes  Locke's  conceptualism  into  a  nominalism. 
But  this  was  a  passing  phase  which  was  under  eclipse 
by  the  time  he  wrote  the  Principles. 

Berkeley's  general  conclusion  in  the  Commonplace 
Book  is  that  his  theory  of  knowledge  is  free  from  the 
sceptical  tendencies  which  Stillingfleet  and  others 
had  discerned  in  Locke  ;  and  that,  in  spite  of  its 
paradoxical  appearance,  it  is  the  only  theory  of 
knowledge  perfectly  consistent  with  common  sense. 

Before  passing  from  our  investigation  of  Berkeley's 
relation  to  Locke,  we  may  note  (the  point  is  inter 
esting  and  may  be  important)  that  his  criticisms 
of  Locke,  on  several  fundamental  points,  are  very 
similar  to  those  of  the  latter's  little-known  critic, 
John  Sergeant.  It  would  be  very  rash  to  say  that 
Berkeley  adopted  them  from  Sergeant.  There  can 
be  little  doubt  that  he  arrived  at  them  independently. 
But  it  is  well  to  bear  in  mind  that,  as  is  shown  by  a 

1  i.  44. 


62  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

reference  in  the  Commonplace  Boole,1  he  was  ac 
quainted  with  Sergeant's  Solid  Philosophy,  and 
further,  not  only  were  many  of  his  most  telling  criti 
cisms  of  Locke  anticipated  in  that  book,  but  his  own 
conception  of  a  mind-dependent  universe  was  very 
clearly  foreshadowed  by  its  author. 

Though  Sergeant  was  a  writer  of  some  merit,  he 
is  now  almost  unknown,  and  as  his  Solid  Philosophy 
is  extremely  rare,  I  shall  point  out  with  some  care 
the  respects  in  which  his  criticism  of  Locke  forestalls 
Berkeley,  and  the  suggestions  which  he  makes 
towards  the  philosophical  doctrine  which  Berkeley 
afterwards  expounded. 

Sergeant's  book  2  is  a  criticism  of  Locke's  "  way 
of  ideas."  In  it  he  makes  it  his  aim,  he  tells  us,  "  to 
disintricate  truth,"  which  Locke  had  allowed  to 
become  sadly  entangled  with  words  and  fancies  ; 
and  thus  to  establish  "  solidly,"  in  opposition  to 
Locke's  ideism  and  scepticism,  our  real  knowledge 
of  the  real  world.  It  is  rather  interesting  to  notice 
in  passing  that  just  as  our  contemporary  realists 
seem  all  to  be  tending  towards  phenomenalism,  so 
this  "  solidist "  anticipates  the  idealism  of  Berkeley. 
But  in  the  meantime  I  wish  to  draw  attention,  not 
to  his  anticipation  of  Berkeley's  positive  work,  but 
to  his  criticism  of  Locke. 

Sergeant  interprets  Locke's  "  ideas,"  precisely  as 
Berkeley  does,  to  mean  merely  copies  or  images  of 
things  ;  and  he  argues,  on  the  same  lines  as  Berkeley 

M.  54. 

2  Solid  Philosophy  Asserted,  against  the  Fancies  of  the  Ideists  : 
or,  the  Method  to  Science  Farther  Illustrated.  With  Reflections  on 
Mr.  Locke's  Essay  concerning  Human  Understanding.  London, 
1697. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       63 

adopted,  that  if  our  knowledge  starts  with  ideas,  we 
must  be  forever  confined  within  the  circle  of  our 
own  ideas.  If,  that  is,  our  knowledge  begins  in 
ideas  which  are  denned  as  similitudes,  resemblances, 
pictures,  then  our  knowledge  must  terminate  in 
ideas.  "  That  only  is  known,"  says  Sergeant, 
"  which  I  have  in  my  knowledge,  or  in  my  under 
standing  ;  for  to  know  what  I  have  not  in  my 
knowledge  is  a  contradiction  :  therefore,  if  I  have 
only  the  idea,  and  not  the  thing,  in  my  knowledge 
or  understanding,  I  can  only  know  the  idea  and 
not  the  thing  ;  and,  by  consequence,  I  know  nothing 
without  me,  or  nothing  in  nature."  1 

Sergeant  goes  on  to  show  that  if  ideas  are  the 
copies  of  things,  and  if  truth  consists  in  the  agree 
ment  of  the  copy  and  the  thing,  then  we  must  know 
both  the  copy  and  the  thing.  But  we  have  already 
seen  that  we  know  only  the  copy.  Hence  Locke's 
account  of  truth  falls  to  the  ground.  Sergeant, 
then,  deserves  credit  for  his  acumen  in  exposing  the 
fallacy  of  the  doctrine  of  representative  perception. 
"  We  cannot  possibly  know  at  all  the  things  them 
selves  by  the  ideas,  unless  we  know  certainly  those 
ideas  are  right  resemblances  of  them.  But  we  can 
never  know  (by  the  principles  of  the  Ideists),  that 
their  ideas  are  right  resemblances  of  the  things  ; 
therefore  we  cannot  possibly  know  at  all  the  things 
by  their  ideas."  2  Of  this  thesis  Sergeant  proceeds 
to  give  a  syllogistic  proof.  "  The  minor  is  proved 
thus  ;  we  cannot  know  any  idea  to  be  a  right  re 
semblance  of  a  thing,  (nor,  indeed,  that  anything 
whatever  resembles  another  rightly,)  unless  they  be 

1  Op.  cit.  p.  30.     Cf.  p.  20.  2  Op.  cit.  p.  31. 


64 

both  of  them  in  our  comparing  power,  that  is,  in 
our  understanding  or  reason,  and  there  viewed  and 
compared  together,  that  we  may  see  whether  the 
one  does  rightly  resemble  the  other,  or  no.  But  this 
necessitates  that  the  thing  itself,  as  well  as  the  idea, 
must  be  in  the  understanding,  which  is  directly 
contrary  to  their  principles  ;  therefore,  by  the 
principles  of  the  Ideists,  we  cannot  possibly  know 
that  their  ideas  are  right  resemblances  of  the  thing."  1 

Sergeant  also  argues  that  Locke's  theory  involves 
a  regress  ad  infinitum.  "  Again,  since  Mr.  Locke 
affirms  that  we  know  nothing,  either  by  direct  or 
reflex  knowledges,  but  by  having  ideas  of  it ;  it  must 
follow,  that  when  by  a  reflex  act  I  know  my  first 
idea  got  by  a  direct  impression,  I  must  have  an  idea 
of  that  direct  idea,  and  another  idea,  when  I  know 
that  reflex  one,  of  it ;  and  still  another  of  that ;  and 
so  still  on.  ..."  2  What  seems  to  impress  Sergeant 
most  is  the  impossibility  of  an  idea  of  an  idea,  in 
the  sense  of  an  image,  a  similitude  of  a  similitude.  In 
this,  in  itself,  there  is  in  reality  no  difficulty,  and  his 
argument  is  of  little  value.  He  is  on  surer  ground 
when  he  points  out  that  in  the  regress  of  ideas  we 
reach  no  end  :  if,  that  is,  we  cannot  know  a  thing 
directly  and  immediately,  but  only  by  means  of  an 
intervening  idea,  then  we  need  another  idea  to 
intervene  and  relate  the  mind  to  the  original  inter 
vening  idea.  This  regress  in  infinitum  is  the  direct 
result  of  the  initial  assumption  of  Locke,  viz.  that  we 
cannot  have  immediate  knowledge  of  particular  things. 

Another  of  Berkeley's  criticisms  of  Locke  which  is 
anticipated  by  Sergeant  concerns  abstract  ideas. 

1  Op.  cit.  pp.  31-32.     Cf.  p.  342.  2  Op.  cit.  p.  20. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       65 

Like  Berkeley,  he  argues  that  abstract  general  ideas 
are  self-contradictory,  because  idea  for  Locke  means 
Tniage^or  likeness,  and  an  abatradi-iiniversal  image 
or  likeness  is  a  contradiction  in  terms.  ^Images, 
like  tiie  thingsjof^which  they  are  copies,  are  always 
particjjlajcl  If  then  we  have  an  idea  or  likeness  of 
universality,  or  generality,  what  is  it  like  ?  It  must 
either  be  like  the  thing,  or  must  be  like  nothing,  and 
so  is  no  idea  or  likeness  at  all.  But  it  cannot  be 
like  the  thing  in  any  respect,  because  in  the  thing 
there  is  nothing  that  is  general  or  universal ;  but  all 
that  there  is  particular  and  determined  ;  which  is 
quite  unlike,  nay,  opposite  to  universality  or 
generality."  * 

Sergeant  then  states  sharply  the  dilemma  with 
which  Locke  and  his  supporters  are  confronted. 
"  Philosophy,"  he  presumes,  "  is  the  knowledge  of 
things  ;  but  if  I  have  nothing  but  the  ideas  of  things 
in  my  mind,  I  can  have  knowledge  of  nothing  but 
of  those  ideas.  Wherefore,  either  those  ideas  are 
the  things  themselves,  ...  or  else  they  are  not  the 
things,  and  then  we  do  not  know  the  things  at  all."  2 
Now,  the  latter  alternative  can  be  shown  to  lead,  as 
Sergeant  points  out,  to  absolute  scepticism.  He 
confirms  this,  at  length,  by  his  criticism  of  Locke's 
view  of  the  intervention  of  ideas  between  the  mind 
and  the  thing ;  and  concludes,  "  Wherefore  Mr. 
Locke  in  pursuance  of  his  own  principles  should 
not  have  said  that  '  the  mind  does  not  know  things 
immediately,  but  by  means  of  the  ideas  '  ;  but  that 
it  does  not  know  them  at  all,  neither  mediately  nor 
immediately."  3 

1  Op.  cit.  Preface,  §  24,       *  Op.  cit,  p,  30.       *  Op.  cit.  p.  341, 
JJ,P,  E 


66  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Thus  our  general  conclusion  from  the  dilemma  is 
that  if  knowledge  is  to  be  saved,  the  former  alter1 
native  must  be  accepted.  And  it  can  be  proved, 
Sergeant  believes,  that  the  "  ideal  theory  "  of  Locke 
logically  results  in  the  adoption  of  the  former 
alternative,  i.e.  that  the  ideas  are  the  things  them 
selves.  It  is  necessary  for  the  "  ideal  theory,"  he 
argues,  to  identify  "  idea  "  and  "  thing."  "  Being 
thus  at  a  loss  to  explicate  '  intervention '  or  to 
know  what  it,  or  the  idea  or  representative  serves 
for,  we  will  reflect  next  upon  the  word  '  know ' 
which  Mr.  Locke  applies  (tho'  not  so  immediately, 
yet)  indifferently,  to  the  thing  and  to  the  idea.  Now, 
if  this  be  so,  and  that  to  be  known  agrees  to  them 
both  ;  then,  as  the  idea  is  in  the  mind  when  it  is 
known,  so  the  thing,  when  known,  should  be  in  the 
mind  too,  which  is  our  very  position,  thought  by  the 
ideists  so  paradoxical,  and  yet  here  forcibly  admitted 
by  themselves."  * 

All  this  is,  of  course,  very  closely  akin  to  the  process 
of  argument  by  which  Berkeley  reaches  the  New 
Principle,  and  more  than  once  Sergeant  almost 
stumbles  upon  Berkeley's  actual  formulation  of  it.2 
It  is  noteworthy  also  that  the  term  "  notion  "  which 

1  Op.  cit.  pp.  340-341. 

*  See,  for  example,  Solid  Philosophy,  pp.  32  ff.  and  339  ff. 
And  for  other  points  at  which  Sergeant's  attitude  to  Locke  is 
very  similar  to  Berkeley's,  see  op.  cit.  p.  265,  318  and  321. 

Berkeley  would  have  done  well  to  take  to  heart  one  of 
Sergeant's  criticisms  of  the  use  of  God  by  Locke  and  Descartes. 
"  God  was  brought  in  at  every  hard  pinch,  to  act  contrary  to 
what  the  natures  of  things  required  ;  without  which,  they  could 
not  lay  their  principles,  or  make  their  scheme  cohere  ;  that  is, 
they  would  needs  make  God,  as  he  is  the  Author  and  Orderer  of 
Nature,  to  work  either  preternaturally  or  else  supernaturally ; 
which  is  a  plain  contradiction."  (Epistle  Dedicatory,  op.  cit.) 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       67 

later  came  to  play  an  important  part  in  Berkeley's 
philosophy  is  very  prominent  indeed  in  Sergeant's 
Solid  Philosophy.1  Whether  in  any  of  these  points 
Berkeley  directly  derived  anything  from  Sergeant 
must  remain  a  matter  of  opinion  ;  but,  whatever 
be  our  judgment,  we  may  at  least  agree  that  the 
striking  similarities  between  them  bear  a  remarkable 
testimony  to  the  existence  at  the  time  of  an  atmo 
sphere  of  opposition  to  Locke  in  which  the  develop 
ment  of  such  a  theory  as  Berkeley's  is  only  what 
might  have  been  expected. 

When  compared  with  the  influence  exerted  upon 
Berkeley  by  Locke  and  this  atmosphere  of  reaction 
against  him,  the  influence  of  other  thinkers  is  so 
slight  as  to  be  almost  negligible.  Almost,  but  not 
quite  ;  and,  before  bringing  our  account  of  the  origin 
and  early  development  of  Berkeley's  thought  to  a 
close,  we  must  indicate  briefly  his  relation  to  the 
Cartesians,  and  to  the  mathematics  of  the  day. 


IV.  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  CARTESIANISM 

If  we  may  judge  from  the  references  to  Descartes 
and  his  followers  in  the  Commonplace  Book,  Berkeley 
did  not  make  a  detailed  study  of  them  till  the  set 
of  his  mind  was  already  determined  by  opposition 
to  Locke  ;  amyii^r^isr^i^ej:^ 
criticisms  of  those  points  in  which  the  Cartesians 
agree  with  Locke.2  Thus,  it  seems  fair  to  assume 

1  Berkeley's  relation  to  Sergeant's  doctrine  of  "notions"  is 
considered  below,  Chap.  IV.  ii.,  and  see  also  Appendix  II. 

2  The  entries  in  the  Commonplace  Book  pp.  48-54  consist  mainly 
of  critical  remarks  on  Descartes'  Meditations  and  on  the  Objec 
tions  and  Replies. 


b  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

that  Berkeley  criticises  them  simply  because  the. 
attitude  he  had  already  adopted  towards  Locke 
made  it  essential,  if  he  was  to  be  consistent,  that  he 
should  oppose  them.  But  in  one  matter,  while  he 
was  far  from  blindly  concurring  in  the  Cartesian 
doctrine,  he  was  certainly  profoundly  influenced  by 
the  followers  of  Descartes,  especially  Malebranche. 
This  was  the  theory  of  Occasionalism. 

The  Occasionalism  that  was  made  explicit  by 
Geulincx  and  Malebranche  was  derived  from  three 
fundamental  and  closely-related  doctrines  of  Des 
cartes,  viz.  his  theory  of  representative  perception, 
his  spiritualism,  and  his  view  of  the  nature  of 
causation.1  And  it  is  precisely  these  three  doctrines, 
more  especially  perhaps  in  the  form  which  they 
assumed  in  Locke,  that  led  to  Berkeley's  Occasion 
alism.  But  his  Occasionalism  differs  from  that  of 
Malebranche  in  an  important  respect.  He  carries 
out  more  consistently  than  Malebranche  the  pre 
suppositions  involved  in  Descartes'  fundamental 
thesis.  Descartes  had,  indeed,  recognised,  as  one 
of  the  consequences  of  his  theory  of  representative 
perception,  that,  if  matter  did  not  exist,  then,  so 
long  as  sensations  were  produced  in  our  minds  with 
the  same  regularity  as  they  actually  are,  we  should 
still  have  the  same  ground  for  believing  in  the 
independent  existence  of  matter  as  we  do  have. 
The  intuitive  and  theological  grounds  on  which 
Cartesianism  posits  the  existence  of  an  external 
world  have  no  inherent  connection  with  its  meta 
physics.  Berkeley  refuses  to  accept  these  irrelevant 
reasons  for  the  existence  of  the  material  world  ;  and 

1  Cf.  Stein  in  Archivf.  Gesch,  d.  Phil.  i.  53  ft. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       69 

on  his  premisses  has  no  difficulty  in  showing  that, 
even  on  Cartesian  assumptions,  since  matter  is  both 
imperceptible  and  inert,  it  cannot  exist.  Hence, 
Berkeley  retains  in  a  one-sided  form  the  Cartesian 
Oecasionalism.  He  insists,  and  here  ho  is  directly 
following  Malebranche,  that  the  only  ultimately  xeal 
causation  is  creation.  Matter  being  incapable  of 
productive  causality,  the  only  real  cause  is  spirit. 
Spirit  as  infinite,  i.e.  God,  creates  from  moment  to 
moment,  the  ideas  which  we  perceive,  and  spirit  as 
finite,,,  i.e.  selves,  creates  the  ideas  which  .they 
imagine.  Each  man's  world  is  really  his  own.  He 
may  call  his  ideas  "  ideas  "  or  "  things,"  but  the 
essence  of  Berkeley's  view  is  that  they  are  numeri 
cally  distinct  for  each  man.  Every  mind  has  its 
separate  and  private  world,  which  is  correlated  with 
the  other  worlds  of  other  minds  by  God.  From 
moment  to  moment  God  adjusts  the  several  worlds. 
Berkeley,  it  is  true,  does  not  express  his  view  in  this 
extreme  Occasionalist  way  ;  but  there  is  no  doubt 
that,  in  the  Commonplace  Book  at  least,  this  is  his 
doctrine. 

Berkeley's  other  references  to  Cartesianism  in  the 
Commonplace  Book  are  mainly  criticisms  of  doctrines 
which  Locke  followed,  and  to  which  his  attitude  has 
already,  with  reference  to  Locke,  been  explained. 
He  criticises  Descartes'  arguments  for  the  existence 
of  the  self  and  of  God,  the  former  on  the  ground  that 
the  proposition  cogito  ergo  sum  is  a  tautology,1  and 
the  latter  because  the  ontological  proof  is  invalid. 
"  Absurd,"  says  Berkeley,  "  to  argue  the  existence 
of  God  from  lys  idea."  2  This  criticism  rests  on  an 

1  i.  44.  2  i.  48. 


70  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

intentional  misrepresentation  of  Descartes'  concep 
tion  of  the  meaning  of  idea.1  For  Descartes  idea  and 
conception  are  synonymous  terms,  and  if  his  proof 
be  attacked  it  must  be  along  Kant's  lines.  Berkeley 
simply  interprets  "  an  idea  of  God  "  according  to 
his  own  terminology  as  "  a  perception  of  God,"  and 
he  is  able  to  show  that  we  never  do  have .  this 
knowledge  of  God. 

Berkeley  points  out  that  his  theory  is  more 
realistic  and  less  sceptical  than  Cartesianism.  The 
Cartesians  make  both  primary  and  secondary 
qualities  dependent  on  what  is  particular  or  con 
tingent.  Primary  qualities  inhere  in  matter,  which 
is  contingent,  and  secondary  qualities  depend  on  the 
perception  of  particular  selves.  Berkeley  claims  that 
he  is  able  to  secure  the  equal  reality  of  primary  and 
secondary  qualities.  Both  alike  are  real,  not  because 
they  are  independent,  but  inasmuch  as  they  are 
directly  dependent  on  God,  the  ultimate  reality. 
Yet  while  Berkeley  holds  that  the  reality  of  things 
depends  on  their  being  referred  directly  to  God,  he 
maintains,  against  Malebranche,  that  actions  owe 
their  reality  only  ultimately  to  God,  and  proximately 
to  finite  selves.  "  We  move  our  legs  ourselves." 

Yet  Malebranche  influenced  Berkeley  more  than 
any  other  Cartesian.  Malebranche  had  developed 
Cartesianism  by  ascribing  to  God  functions  of  over 
whelming  importance,  functions  almost  identical 
with  those  which  Berkeley  assigned  to  God.  Male 
branche  goes  much  further  than  Descartes  in  re 
ferring  knowledge,  from  the  standpoint  of  its  validity, 

1  Berkeley  knew  well  enough  what  Descartes  meant  by  "  idea." 
(Commonplace  Book,  i.  52.) 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       71 

to  God.     All  4oaewtedge4ns^4ve£  knowledge  of  God.1 
of  being  at  all,  the  .infinite  is 


po§terjjQr^ 

We-s.ee  all  things  in  God  ;  and  it  is  only  in  God  that 
of  things.3  ^We  can  know  all 
God.  .only  beca.use  allideasare^^  God. 
God.,  has  in  himself  the  ideas  of  all  finite  beings,4 
and  finite  minds  are  entirely  dependent  for  their 


practical  life.  Just  as  men  are  entirely  dependent 
on,G^o3.Jpr_their  ideas^sp^inTtJae  practicaL^eab^-tneir 
actions  are  really  produced  by  his  activity.  ''  Dieu 
fait  tout  en  toutes  choses."  God  is  ultimately  the 
only^agent  as  he  is  the  only  knower.5 

So  .far  as.  knowledge  goes,  Berkeley  follows  Male- 
branche  very  closely  in  ascribing  everything  to  God. 
The  constancy  and  regularity  of  our  knowledge  is 
due  to  the  -fact  that  God  has  himself  the  power  to 
create  all  ideas,  and  that  he  graciously  wills  to  create 
them  in  a  uniform  and  regular  way.  All  the  ideas 
we  perceive  are  God's  ideas:  it  is  because  they 
are  God's  ideas  that  they  are  real.  Ideas  that 
are  our  own,  i.e.  that  we  can  call  up  at  will,  are 
imaginative.  But  this  imaginative  knowledge  is 
itself  dependent  on  our  perceptual  knowledge. 
Had  we  not  had  this  real  knowledge,  we  could 

1  Recherche  de  la  Verite,  p.  295.  2  Ibid.  p.  298. 

3  The  chapter  in  which  Malebranche's  doctrine  on  this  point 
is  chiefly  contained  (Recherche,  m.  ii.  6)  is  entitled  "  Que  nous 
voyons  toutes  choses  en  Dieu." 

4  "  II  est  absolument  necessaire  que  Dieu  ait  en  lui-meme  les 
idees  de  tous  les  etres  qu'il  a  crees  (p.  295). 

8  Ibid.  p.  300. 


72  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

not  have  recalled  in  imagination  the  ideas  which 
God  gave  us  in  perception.  But  Berkeley  differs 
from  Malebranche  on  the  question  of  our  re 
sponsibility  for  our  actions.  Berkeley  insists  that 
in  our  actions  we  exercise  a  real  causality.  If  God 
were  the  sole  cause  of  our  actions  and  volitions,  our 
apparent  freedom  would  be  the  cruellest  delusion. 
Berkeley  believes  in  moral  responsibility  and  moral 
freedom  ;  x  and  he  sees  no  way  of  securing  them 
without  maintaining  the  real  activity  and  produc 
tivity  of  finite  will.  In  the  whole  Commonplace 
Book  no  other  single  point  receives  such  reiterated 
emphasis  as  this. 

Malebranche  is  ready  to  admit  that  though  we 
know  all  things  in  God,  knowledge  may  be  of  different 
sorts.  But,  however  different  these  kinds  of  know 
ledge  are,  they  are  all  ultimately  mediated  by  God. 
Malebranche  distinguishes  sense-perception,  imagina 
tion,  and  pure  intellection,  as  different  sorts  of  know 
ledge,  under  God.  Berkeley  was  certainly  influenced 
by  Malebranche's  elaborate  psychological  analysis 
of  these  different  ways  in  which  the  mind  may 
apprehend  its  object ;  and  his  account  of  sense- 
perception  is  very  similar  to  Malebranche's,  except 
that  Malebranche  retains  material  substance  to  make 
impressions,  under  God,  on  the  sense-organs.  (Yet 
Malebranche  admits  (a)  that  sense  knowledge  is 
possible  without  impressions  caused  by  material 
objects,  e.g.  a  current  of  animal  spirits  may  make  an 
impression  on  the  brain  ;  and  (6)  that  the  only 
reasons  for  the  existence  of  material  substance  are 

1  So  does  Malebranche.     But  his  definitions  of  will  and  liberty 
did  not  satisfy  Berkeley. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       73 

theological.)  Berkeley  also  follows  Malebranche  in 
his  analysis  of  imagination,  the  only  difference  being, 
as  I  have  already  pointed  out,  that  while  Berkeley 
assigns  a  real  creative  activity  to  the  soul  in  imagina 
tion,  Malebranche  reserves  such  activity  entirely  to 
God.  But  to  correspond  to  Malebranche's  third 
and  most  important  type  of  knowledge,  Berkeley 
has,  in  the  Commonplace  Book,  nothing,  and,  in  his 
doctrine  as  a  whole,  very  little.  Malebranche 
believes  that  by  pure  understanding  or  intellection 
we  obtain  all  our  most  important  knowledge,  e.g. 
universal  ideas,  common  notions,  and  spiritual 
truths.  Such  conceptual  knowledge  Berkeley  abso 
lutely  refuses  to  admit  in  the  Commonplace  Book. 
But  it  seems  clear  from  what  he  says  about  notions, 
in  the  second  edition  of  the  Principles,  that  notional 
knowledge  would  have  comprised  as  its  objects 
precisely  those  which  Malebranche  knows  by 
"  entendement  pur." 

Apart  from  Malebranche  and  Locke,  Berkeley  owed 
very  little,  in  his  early  period  at  least,  to  any  other 
philosopher.  In  later  life,  when  he  wrote  Alciphron 
and  Siris,  references  to  the  thinkers  of  antiquity  are 
frequent ;  but  in  the  Commonplace  Book  he  is 
essentially  the  child  of  his  time,  and,  as  the  two 
philosophers  who  at  that  day  attracted  most  attention 
were  Locke  and  Malebranche,  it  is  naturally  of  them 
that  Berkeley  takes  most  notice. 

Yet  in  the  Commonplace  Book  we  do  find  one  or 
two  references  to  other  philosophers.  He  notices 
Henry  More  and  Ralph  Cudworth,  the  so-called 
Cambridge  Platonists,  once  or  twice,  but  in  the  days 
of  the  Commonplace  Book  he  had  no  sympathy  for 


74  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

what  he  calls  "the  lofty  and  Platonic  strain."1 
Their  conception  of  universals  annoyed  him,  for  he 
believed  it  was  tarred  with  the  same  brush  as  Locke's 
abstract  ideas  ;  and  once,  in  reference  probably  to 
a  fundamental  doctrine  of  Cudworth's  Eternal  and 
Immutable  Morality,  he  contemptuously  ejaculates, 
"  What  becomes  of  the  aeternae  veritates  ?  They 
vanish."  2 

On  Hobbes  and  Spinoza  also  Berkeley  passes  a 
few  remarks,  but  these  are  of  no  particular  im 
portance,  for  his  religious  interest  seems  to  have  made 
it  impossible  for  him  to  feel  any  sympathy  with  them. 
He  notes  that  it  is  "  silly  of  Hobbes  to  speak  of  the 
will  as  if  it  were  motion,  with  which  it  has  no  like 
ness,"  3  and  that  Spinoza  "  gives  an  odd  account  .  .  . 
of  the  original  of  all  universals."  4  More  important 
is  the  version  of  the  causal  principle  which  he  states 
in  emendation  of  the  ancient  axiom — ex  nihilo  nihil 
fit — which  Spinoza  approves.  "  To  make  this  axiom 
have  a  positive  signification,"  he  says,  "  one  should 
express  it  thus  :  every  idea  has  a  cause,  i.e.  is 
produced  by  a  will."  5  But  neither  Hobbes  nor 
Spinoza  in  any  sense  formed  a  "  source  "  of  Berkeley's 
thought.  From  the  way  in  which  he  mentions  them 
in  the  Commonplace  Book,  it  would  seem  that  he 
studied  them  carefully  only  after  the  New  Principle 
had  been  developed  in  his  own  mind,  and  in  order 
to  see  whether  any  objections  could  be  advanced 
from  their  standpoint  against  his  doctrine.  And 
as  the  result  of  this  investigation,  he  is  very  we1 
satisfied  with  his  own  philosophy.  "  My  doc  trim 
rightly  understood,  all  that  philosophy  of  Epicuru 

1  i.  83.  2  i.  44.  3  i.  52.  4  i.  52.  5  i.  53. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       75 

Hobbes,  Spinoza,  etc.,  which  has  been  a  declared 
enemy  of  religion,  comes  to  the  ground." 

But  if  philosophers  are  rarely  mentioned  by 
Berkeley,  the  names  of  mathematicians  are  constantly 
on  his  lips  ;  and  we  must  now  consider  (it  is  the  third 
line  of  enquiry  which  we  set  before  ourselves)  the 
influence  exerted  on  the  development  of  Berkeley's 
mind  by  mathematics. 


V-  MATHEMATICS  IN  THE  COMMONPLACE  BOOK 

No  one  who  reads  the  Commonplace  Book  with  any 
care  can  avoid  noticing  what  a  great  deal  of  attention 
is  paid  to  mathematical  questions,  and,  in  particular, 
how  frequently  Berkeley  refers  to  Newton  and  other 
contemporary  mathematicians.  At  first  sight  it  may 
seem  strange  that  the  mathematicians  referred  to  so 
greatly  outnumber  the  philosophers  ;  but  a  little 
reflection  will  show  that  it  is  perfectly  natural. 

It  is  natural  that  we  should  find  frequent  references 
to  mathematicians  in  the  Commonplace  Book  because 
at  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century  mathe 
matics  was  the  science.  Mathematical  work  of  all 
kinds  had  been  encouraged  in  the  highest  degree  by 
the  wonderful  results  progressively  achieved  in  the 
previous  century  and  particularly  in  the  past  two  or 
three  decades.  A  very  brief  sketch  of  the  mathe 
matical  progress  of  the  preceding  seventy-five  years 
will  make  this  clear. 

Mathematics  was  revolutionised  in  1637  by 
Descartes  with  the  invention  of  the  so-called  cartesian 
or  analytical  geometry.  For  all  the  purposes  of 
1  i.  52. 


76  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

research  analytical  geometry  is  very  much  more 
useful  than  Euclidean.  Euclidean  geometry  involves 
special  constructions  for  every  separate  problem 
attacked,  but  analytical  geometry  proceeds  on  a  few 
simple  rules  which  are  universally  true  and  by 
subsumption  under  which  any  problem  may  be 
solved.  About  the  same  time  as  Descartes  made 
this  discovery,  Cavalieri,  an  Italian  Jesuit,  applied 
the  principle  of  indivisibles,  which  had  previously 
been  used  by  the  astronomer  Kepler,  to  the  deter 
mination  of  areas  and  volumes.  His  results  were 
attained  by  a  process  of  summation  analogous  to 
that  now  employed  in  the  integral  calculus.  The 
analytical  work  of  Descartes  and  Cavalieri  was 
extended  and  systematised  by  Wallis,  Professor  of 
Geometry  at  Oxford,  in  a  series  of  important  works, 
extending  from  1656  to  1686.  These  books  were 
much  more  clearly  written  than  those  of  his  more 
original  predecessors,  and  they  became  the  standard 
works  on  the  New  Mathematics.  Wallis  came  very 
near  to  making  the  important  discovery  how  to 
effect  the  quadrature  of  the  circle,  or,  in  other  words, 
how  to  determine  the  value  of  TT.  But,  until  the 
binomial  theorem  was  invented  by  Newton,  he  did 
not  quite  succeed. 

The  next  great  advance  in  mathematics  was  made 
when  the  fluxional  or  differential  calculus  was 
invented  almost  simultaneously  and  probably  inde 
pendently  by  Newton  and  Leibniz.  It  had  always 
been  the  great  difficulty  of  mathematics  to  apply  its 
principles  to  cases  where  continuous  and  gradual 
changes  take  place.  The  properties  of  mathematical 
figures  bounded  by  consecutive  straight  lines  had 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       77 

early  been  determined,  because  the  changes  in  the 
direction  of  the  boundaries  are  made  only  at  certain 
points,  i.e.  at  the  angles  of  the  figure,  and  these 
changes  of  direction  can  readily  be  calculated.  But 
in  a  curvilinear  figure  the  direction  of  the  line  which 
forms  its  boundary  is  continuously  and  gradually 
changing,  and  it  is  exceedingly  difficult  to  calculate 
the  properties  of  the  figure.  The  work  of  Descartes, 
Cavalieri,  Wallis  and  others  had  made  it  possible  to 
calculate  directions  and  areas  in  the  case  of  some 
curves,  but  their  methods  were  applicable  only  to 
certain  kinds  of  curves.  There  were,  indeed,  in 
Wallis's  work,  hints  of  an  organised  method  of  deal 
ing  with  all  cases  ;  but  it  remained  for  Newton  to 
universalise  the  method  by  the  invention  of  the 
calculus.  By  means  of  the  calculus  it  is  possible  to 
determine  accurately  the  direction  of  all  curves. 
The  importance  of  this  invention  will  be  recognised 
when  it  is  remembered  that  most  things  in  nature 
change  continuously  according  to  regularly  operative 
laws,  and  that  this  change  can  be  represented 
graphically  as  a  curve.  Given  such  a  curve,  or  such 
a  quantity  in  gradual  and  continuous  change,  it  is 
possible  by  means  of  the  differential  calculus  to 
compute  the  rate  of  its  increase  or  decrease  ;  and, 
by  the  application  of  the  integral  calculus,  to  find 
from  this  the  original  quantity,  or  the  principle  of 
the  curve. 

These  discoveries  in  mathematics,  whose  import 
ance  was  only  coming  to  be  fully  realised  when 
Berkeley  was  a  student,  led  to  the  reconstruction  of 
the  science,  and  rendered  possible  the  further  ex 
tremely  rapid  progress  of  pure  mathematics,  and  its 


78  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

application  to  the  world  of  nature  in  mechanics  and 
physics.  When  Berkeley  was  writing  the  Common 
place  Book  much  of  the  important  work  in  the 
application  of  mathematical  principles  had  already 
been  done,  or  was  in  process  of  being  done,  by  Newton 
and  his  contemporaries. 

By  the  use  of  the  calculus  Newton  was  enabled 
to  unriddle  several  problems  which  previous  mathe 
maticians  had  found  insoluble,  or  of  which  they  had 
given  ridiculous  or  erroneous  solutions.  A  mere 
enumeration  of  the  departments  of  applied  mathe 
matics  which  Newton  created  or  extended  is  enough 
to  indicate  the  tremendous  advance  made  by  mathe 
matics  in  the  few  years  previous  to  Berkeley's 
student-days. 

Newton  was  the  first  to  place  dynamics  on  a  sound 
basis  by  the  application  of  his  new  mathematical 
methods  to  the  determination  of  fluids  and  solids  ; 
and  from  dynamics  he  deduced  the  theory  of  statics. 
Further,  he  was  the  creator  of  the  theory  of  hydro 
dynamics,  and  he  greatly  extended  the  science  of 
hydrostatics.  By  the  application  of  mathematics  to 
the  mechanics  of  the  solar  system  he  achieved  even 
more  remarkable  results.  He  established  the  law 
of  gravitation,  disproved  the  vortex-theor}?-  of 
Descartes,  and  created  the  science  of  physical 
astronomy.  In  optics  he  made  many  experiments 
with  spectra,  and  explained  the  decomposition  of 
light  and  the  theory  of  the  rainbow.1 


1  This  brief  sketch  of  the  development  of  mathematics  in  this 
period  is  almost  entirely  derived  from  the  Histories  of  Mathe 
matics  of  W.  W.  R.  Ball,  M.  Cantor,  and  F.  Cajori,  and  various 
writings  of  De  Morgan  and  Brewster  on  Newton. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       79 

And  his  mathematical  principles  were  also  applied 
by  him  and  his  followers  in  more  "  practically 
useful "  ways.  His  astronomical  work  (combined 
with  the  observations  of  Flamsteed,  the  Astronomer 
Royal),  and  his  invention  of  the  sextant  did  much 
for  the  science  of  navigation.  And  Sir  Christopher 
Wren  made  use  of  some  of  his  mathematical  methods 
in  his  famous  architectural  work.  In  these  and 
many  other  ways  the  New  Mathematics  was  being 
applied  in  the  advancement  of  science  and  for  the 
benefit  of  life. 

It  is  therefore  not  strange  that,  in  Berkeley's  day, 
mathematics  was,  as  he  tells  us  himself,  "  the 
admired  darling  of  the  age."  And  it  is  fairly  clear 
that  the  conceptions  of  mathematics  exercised  on 
Berkeley  the  same  sort  of  influence  as  the  idea  of 
evolution  exerted  on  the  philosophy  and  literature 
of  the  second  half  of  the  nineteenth  century.  The 
place  of  mathematical  and  physical  science  at  that 
time  was  precisely  similar  to  that  occupied  150  years 
later  by  biological  conceptions.  One  or  two  illus 
trations  will  perhaps  help  to  give  point  to  the 
analogy.  When  Richard  Bentley,  the  great  classical 
scholar,  was  appointed  to  give  the  first  course  of 
Boyle  lectures  on  the  being  of  God,  he  wrote  to 
Newton  asking  him  for  instructions  how  to  read  the 
Principia,  and  in  his  lectures  he  applied  the  con 
ceptions  of  the  Principia,  just  as  theologians  of  later 
days  applied  the  conception  of  evolution  in  their 
apologetics.  Again,  Locke,  in  spite  of  mathematical 
incapacity,  assimilated  as  best  he  could  the  argument 
of  the  Principia,  after  having  carefully  enquired 
whether  the  mathematical  calculations  which  he  was 


80  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

unable  to  follow  might  safely  be  accepted.  Mathe 
matical  conceptions  form  the  warp  and  woof  of  the 
thought  of  the  day  ;  and  Berkeley,  like  everybody 
else,  was  exposed  to  their  influence. 

At  two  points,  one  of  them  of  central  importance 
in  his  philosophy,  Berkeley  attempted  to  "  apply  " 
mathematical  conceptions.  He  applied  algebra  to 
the  solution  of  the  problems  of  morality,  and  thus 
endeavoured  to  found  an  Algebra  of  Ethics  ;  and 
by  making  use  of  the  recently  discovered  methods 
of  calculation  by  signs  and  symbols,  he  sought  to 
give  an  explanation  of  nature  and  its  laws  by  means 
of  the  relation  of  sign  and  thing  signified,  and  thus 
establish  an  Algebra  of  Nature.  How  far  he  was 
successful  in  the  attainment  of  these  objects  it  will 
be  convenient  to  consider,  not  at  this  point,  but  in 
connection  with  his  theory  of  ethics  and  his  doctrine 
of  causality  respectively.  It  is  enough,  in  the  mean 
time,  to  bear  in  mind  that  in  these  two  theories 
he  is  definitely  influenced  by  the  mathematical 
conceptions  of  his  time. 

We  now  proceed  to  examine  how,  in  Berkeley's 
mind,  so  far  as  it  can  be  discerned  in  the  Common 
place  Book,  his  own  new  principle  is  related  to  the 
new  mathematics. 

Berkeley  very  early  perceived  that  his  new 
principle  involved  difficulties  with  regard  to  the 
nature  of  mathematics.  The  new  principle  implies 
that  lines  consist  of  a  finite  number  of  points,  that 
surfaces  consist  of  a  finite  number  of  lines,  and  that 
solids  l  consist  of  a  finite  number  of  surfaces.  Thus 

1  How,  it  may  be  asked,  on  Berkeley's  theory  of  minima 
jsensibilia,  79  £t  possible  for  him  to  maintain  the  existence  of 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       81 

ultimately  all  geometrical  figures  consist  of  complexes 
of  points,  which  are  regarded  by  Berkeley  as  ultimate 
indivisibles.  These  indivisibles  are  minima  sensi- 
bilia,  the  minutest  possible  objects  of  sense.  It  is 
impossible  that  the  minima  sensibilia  should  be 
divisible,  because  in  that  case  we  should  have  some 
thing  of  which  our  senses  could  not  make  us  aware  ; 
and  that,  Berkeley  believes,  is  simply  a  contra 
diction.1 

Sensation,  then,  is  the  test  of  all  geometrical 
relations.  Thus  geometrical  equality  depends  simply 
on  our  inability  to  distinguish  in  sense-perception. 
"  I  can  mean  nothing  by  equal  lines  but  lines  which 
it  is  indifferent  whether  of  them  I  take,  lines  in  which 
I  observe  by  my  senses  no  difference."  2  Berkeley 
explicitly  considers  the  claims  of  imagination  and 
pure  intellect  to  judge  of  geometrical  relations  ;  and 
summarily  rejects  their  pretensions.  Imagination, 
he  holds,  is  based  on  sensation,  and  has  no  other 
authority  than  that  of  the  senses.  It  has  no  means 
of  judging,  but  what  it  derives  from  the  senses,  and, 
as  it  is  removed  by  one  stage  from  immediate  sense- 
perception  and  has  its  knowledge,  as  it  were,  only 

solids  ?  A  solid,  on  his  theory,  should  consist  of  a  finite  number 
of  surfaces,  each  of  which  is  composed  of  a  finite  number  of  lines, 
each  of  which  is  made  up  of  a  finite  number  of  points.  A  solid, 
that  is,  consists  in  the  last  resort  of  minima  sensibilia.  But  only 
the  external  surfaces  of  the  solid  are  open  to  sense -perception. 
Is  every  solid,  then,  nothing  but  an  empty  husk  ?  Mathematical 
calculation  showed  Berkeley  that  that  was  impossible.  Suppose, 
for  instance,  a  cube,  the  length  of  each  of  its  sides  being  5  units. 
Then  the  volume  of  the  cube  may  be  proved  to  be  5  x  5  x  5  cubic 
units.  But,  if  it  were  merely  a  husk,  it  would  contain  (5  x  5)  x  6 
square  units.  The  only  way  out  of  the  difficulty  is  to  say  that 
God  perceives  the  minima  sensibilia  inside  the  solid. 
1  i.  86.  2  i.  22. 


82  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

at  second-hand,  it  is,  in  fact,  not  so  well  fitted  as 
sensation  to  judge  and  discriminate.  Pure  intellect, 
Berkeley  continues,  has  no  jurisdiction  in  mathe 
matics,  for  it  is  concerned  only  with  the  operations 
of  the  mind,  and  "  lines  and  triangles  are  not  opera 
tions  of  the  mind."  l 

Now,  this  view  of  the  nature  of  geometry  is  the 
direct  consequence  of  Berkeley's  metaphysical 
theory,  but  it  is  interesting  to  note  that  it  also 
connected  itself  in  his  mind  with  the  method  of 
indivisibles  maintained  by  the  Italian  mathematician, 
Cavalieri.2  "  All  might  be  demonstrated,"  he  says, 
"by  a  new  method  of  indivisibles,  easier  perhaps 
and  juster  than  that  of  Cavalierius."  8  What  pre 
cisely  Cavalieri  meant  by  his  conception  of  indi 
visibles  is  open  to  doubt,  but  it  is  certain  that 
Berkeley's  sympathy  would  be  elicited  by  his 
demonstration  that  quantities  are  composed  of 
indivisible  units,  a  line  being  made  up  of  points,  a 
surface  of  lines,  and  a  volume  of  surfaces.  It  is 
possible,  though  he  is  very  obscure,  that  he  regarded 
areas  as  composed  of  exceedingly  small  indivisible 
atoms  of  area.  Berkeley's  conception  is  clearly 
very  similar  to  this  ;  but  whereas  Cavalieri  main 
tained  that  the  number  of  points  in  a  line  is 
infinite,  Berkeley  was  convinced  that  no  line  or 
surface  can  contain  more  than  a  finite  number 
of  points,  points  for  him  being  minima  sensibilia. 

ii.  22  (cf.  14). 

2  Bonaventura  Cavalieri  (1598-1647)  was  the  author  of  Oeo- 
metria  indivisibilibus  continuorum  nova  quadam  ratione  promota 
(1635),  and  Exercitationes  geometricae  sex  (1647). 

»i.  87. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       83 

This,  then,    is    Berkeley's    "  new   method    of  indi 
visibles."  1 

It  will  follow  that  geometry  must  be  conceived 
to  be  an  applied  science.  The  only  pure  science  will 
be  algebra,  for  it  alone  deals  with  signs  in  abstraction 
from  concrete  things.  Geometry  may  be  regarded 
as  an  application  of  algebra  and  arithmetic  to  points, 
i.e.  the  minima  sensibilia  which  constitute  the  whole 
of  concrete  existence.2  Berkeley  admits  that  it  is 
difficult  for  us  "to  imagine  a  minimum."  3  But 
that  is  only  because  we  have  not  been  accustomed  to 
take  note  of  it  singly.  In  reading  we  do  not  usually 
notice  explicitly  each  particular  letter.  But  the 
words  and  pages  can  be  analysed  down  to  these 
minimal  letters.  Similarly,  though  we  are  not 
explicitly  aware  of  the  minima  sensibilia,  they  do 
exist  separately,  and  may  be  analysed  as  indivisibles 
in  the  complex  sense-datum  presented  to  us  in 
perception.  Geometry,  then,  is  an  applied  science 
dealing  with  finite  magnitudes  composed  of  indi 
visible  minima  sensibilia. 

If  this  conception  of  the  nature  of  geometry  be 
adopted,  it  immediately  follows,  as  Berkeley  very 
clearly  perceived,  that  most  if  not  all  the  traditional 
Euclidean  geometry  must  be  rejected.  (1)  In  the 
first  place,  on  the  new  theory,  not  all  lines  are  capable 
of  bisection.4  Only  those  lines  which  consist  of  an 

1  Berkeley  criticises  Barrow's  arguments  against  indivisibles. 
(Commonplace  Book,  i.  13,  19.)  Isaac  Barrow  (1630-1677), 
Newton's  predecessor  at  Cambridge,  published  in  1669  his 
Lectiones  opticae  et  geometricae,  which  had  been  revised  by 
Newton,  and  in  1683  his  mathematical  lectures  were  published 
under  the  title  Lectiones  mathematicae. 

2i-  47-  3i.  85.  «i.  79,  80. 


84  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

even  number  of  points  can  be  bisected.  If  the  number 
of  points  comprising  the  line  be  odd,  then  (supposing 
bisection  to  be  possible)  the  line  of  bisection  would 
need  to  pass  through  the  central  point.  But  the 
point  is  ex  hypoihesi  indivisible  ;  hence  the  line 
does  not  admit  of  bisection.  (2)  Again,  the  mathe 
matical  doctrine  of  the  incommensurability  of  the 
side  and  the  diagonal  of  the  square  must  be  rejected.1 
For  since  both  the  side  and  the  diagonal  of  the 
square  are  composed  of  a  finite  number  of  points, 
the  relation  between  these  lines  will  always  be 
capable  of  integral  numerical  expression.  Berkeley 
even  makes  the  general  statement,  "  I  say  there  are 
no  incommensurables,  no  surds."  2  (3)  It  follows 
that  one  square  can  never  be  double  another,  for  j 
that  is  possible  only  on  the  assumption  of  incom 
mensurables.  And  it  also  follows  that  the  famous 
Pythagorean  theorem  (Euclid,  i.  47)  is  false.3 

(4)  Further,  it  is  no  longer  possible  to  maintain  that 
a  mean  proportional  may  be  found  between  any  two 
given  lines.     A  mean  proportional  will  be  possible, 
on  Berkeley's  theory,  only  in  the  special  case  where] 
the  numbers  of  the  points  contained  in  the  two  lines] 
will,  if  multiplied  together,  produce  a  square  number.4 

(5)  Finally,  the  important  work  that  had  recently] 
been  done  on  the  problem  of  squaring  the  circle  is, 
in  Berkeley's  view,   quite  useless.     Any  visible  oil 
tangible  circle,  i.e.  any  actually  constructed  circle'' 
may  be  squared  approximately  ;    and  it  is  therefore 
time  thrown  away  to    invent  general  methods  foi|i( 
the  quadrature  of  all  circles.5 

That  his  new  doctrine  necessitated  such  a  clear) 

M.  60,  78,  79.         2i.  14.         3  i.  19.         *  i.  14.         5  i.  77. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       85 

sweep  of  important  mathematical  results,  most  of 
which  had  been  accepted  for  hundreds  of  years,  might 
well  have  given  pause  to  an  even  more  confident 
man  than  Berkeley  ;  for  (to  take  only  one  instance), 
apart  from  its  startling  theoretical  consequences, 
serious  practical  difficulties  would  arise  if  some  lines 
should  prove  incapable  of  bisection.  Berkeley 
therefore  suggests  that,  for  practical  purposes,  small 
errors  may  be  neglected.  Though  we  cannot  bisect 
a  line  consisting  of  5  points,  we  can  divide  it  into  two 
parts,  one  containing  3  points,  the  other  2  ;  and,  as 
the  minimum  sensibile  is  so  minute,  it  makes  no 
practical  difference  if  the  two  lines  are  only  approxi 
mately  equal.  Berkeley  was  influenced  to  make 
this  suggestion  by  the  method  of  neglecting  differ 
ences  practised  in  the  calculus.1  If  differentials, 
which  are  admitted  to  be  something,  are  overlooked 
under  certain  circumstances  in  the  calculus,  are  we 
not  justified  in  the  new  geometry,  Berkeley  asks, 
in  neglecting  everything  less  than  the  minimum 
sensibile  ?  2  The  resulting  errors  will  be  so  slight 
that  the  usefulness  of  geometry,  which  it  must  be 
remembered  is  a  practical  science,  will  not  be 
impaired.3 

It  is  of  peculiar  interest  to  notice  that  Berkeley 

1  i.  85. 

2  It  might  seem  that  in  our  approximate  bisection  of  the  line 
we  have  neglected  a  whole  minimum  sensibile.     But  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  parts  of  the  line  we  have  not  done  that. 
The  two  parts  ought  each  to  contain  2J  points.     Now  each  of 
the  two  lines  got  by  our  approximate  method  differs  from  this 
by  only  \  a  point.     Hence  the  error  to  be  neglected  in  each  case 
is  less  than  a  minimum  sensibile.     And  this  is  the  condition  laid 
down  by  Berkeley. 

3  Ct.  i.  78. 


86  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

was  influenced  to  neglect  small  errors,  and  to  justify 
his  procedure,  by  the  example  of  the  differential 
calculus.  For,  as  we  shall  see  in  a  subsequent 
chapter,  nearly  thirty  years  later  he  very  vigorously 
attacked,  in  The  Analyst,  this  method  of  ignoring 
small  errors  in  the  calculus.  What  a  triumph  it 
would  have  been  for  his  opponents  in  The  Analyst 
controversy  if  they  could  have  seen  the  Common 
place  Book  ! 

But  though  Berkeley  made  use  of  the  illegitimate 
method  suggested  by  the  calculus,  his  attitude  to 
the  calculus  itself  was,  from  the  first,  exceedingly 
critical.  And  his  motive  for  criticism  is  not  far  to 
seek.  If  the  calculus  were  sound,  then  his  con 
ception  of  geometry  could  not  be  maintained.  For 
the  calculus,  whether  in  the  form  of  Newton's 
theory  of  fluxions  or  Leibniz's  method  of  differ 
entials,  rested,  Berkeley  believed,  on  the  assumption 
of  the  existence  of  infinitely  small  quantities.  Now, 
if  these  infinitesimals  were  admitted  to  exist,  the 
significance  of  his  minima  sensibilia  would  disappear  ; 
and  indeed  the  foundations  of  his  philosophy  as  a 
whole  would  be  seriously  shaken.  For  if  quantities 
could  be  proved  to  exist  which  were  neither  sensible 
nor  imaginable,  he  would  need  to  revise  his  theory 
of  knowledge  and  indeed  his  entire  philosophy. 
Berkeley  thus  had  every  motive  for  looking  with 
critical  eyes  on  the  conception  of  infinitely  small 
quantities. 

In  the  Commonplace  Book  he  says  nothing  of 
importance  with  regard  to  the  use  to  which  infini 
tesimals  are  put  in  the  calculus.  Though  he  was 
critical,  his  criticism  is  not  very  intelligent.  But 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       87 

he  was  certainly  acquainted  with  a  good  deal  of  the 
work  that  had  been  done  on  fluxions  and  differentials. 
His  notes  contain  references,  on  matters  connected 
with  infinitesimals,  not  only  to  Newton  and  Leibniz, 
but  also  to  Barrow,  in  whose  Lectiones  opticae  et 
geometricae  (1669)  Newton's  theory  of  fluxions  was 
first  stated  ;  to  Wallis  (1616-1703),  whose  Ariih- 
metica  infinitorum  (1656)  paved  the  way  for  the 
invention  of  the  calculus  ;  to  Keill  (1671-1721),  who, 
in  addition  to  his  Introductio  ad  veram  physicam 
(1702),  had  written  on  fluxions  in  the  Philosophical 
Transactions  of  the  Royal  Society,  and  took  a  pro 
minent  part  in  the  famous  "  Priority  Controversy  " 
in  which  he  accused  Leibniz  of  having  derived  the 
fundamental  ideas  of  his  calculus  from  Newton  ;  to 
Halley  (1656-1742),  who  besides  his  works  on 
astronomy  and  magnetism  wrote  on  fluxions  in  the 
Philosophical  Transactions  ;  to  Cheyne  (1671-1743), 
whose  Fluxionum  methodus  inversa  (1703)  and 
Philosophical  Principles  of  Natural  Religion  (1705) 
gained  for  him  admission  to  the  Royal  Society  ;  to 
Joseph  Raphson,  whose  De  spatio  reali  seu  ente 
infinite  (1697)  contained  a  definition  of  the  infinitely 
small,  and  who  was  later  to  write  a  History  of 
Fluxions  ;  and  also  to  two  more  elementary  writers, 
Hayes  (1678-1760),  who  published  in  1704  his 
Treatise  of  Fluxions,  and  John  Harris,  whose  New 
Short  Treatise  of  Algebra  .  .  .  Together  with  a  Speci 
men  of  the  Nature  and  Algorithm  of  Fluxions  (1702) 
was  the  first  elementary  book  on  fluxions  to  be 
published  in  England.  And  that  he  had  not  confined 
his  reading  to  English  works  is  proved  by  his  refer 
ences  to  Analyse  des  Infiniment  Petits,  and  to  the 


88  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

controversy  between  Leibniz  and  Bernhard  Nieu- 
wentijt,  a  Dutch  physician  and  physicist,  which  took 
place  in  1694-5  in  the  pages  of  the  Leipzig  Acta 
Eruditorum.1 

It  is  clear,  then,  that  Berkeley  was  acquainted 
with  much  of  the  work  that  had  been  done  in  the 
calculus.  But  when  he  wrote  the  Commonplace  Book 
he  was  not  in  possession  of  the  arguments  which 
subsequently  in  The  Analyst  he  advanced  against  it.2 
In  the  Commonplace  Book  he  does  not  venture  any 
criticism  in  detail  of  the  use  of  infinitesimals  in  the 
calculus.3  What  he  is  concerned  to  do  there  is  to 
prove  that  infinitesimals  have  no  real  existence  at  all. 

The  conception  of  the  infinitesimal  rests,  Berkeley 
believes,  on  the  supposition  that  extension  is  infin 
itely  divisible.  And  mathematicians  who  maintain 
the  doctrine  of  divisibility  ad  infinitum  commit,  in 
his  estimation,  three  serious  errors. 

"1.  They  suppose  extension  to  exist  without  the 
mind,  or  not  perceived. 

2.  They  suppose  that  we  have  an  idea  of  length 
without  breadth,  or  that  length  without  breadth  does 
exist,  "  or  rather,"  as  Berkeley  says  in  the  margin, 
"  that  invisible  length  does  exist." 

3.  That  unity  is  divisible  ad  infinitum."  4 

1  The  last-mentioned  references  are  made  not  in  the  Common 
place  Book,   but  in   the   contemporary   essay,    "  Of   Infinites  " 
(Works,  iii.  411). 

2  Some  of  his  remarks  show  that  he  was  at  this  time  far  from 
understanding  its   principles   and  methods.      (Cf.    Commonplace 
Book,  i.  84,  85.) 

3  There  is  some  criticism  of  the  calculus  itself  in  the  essay  "  Of 
Infinites  "    (Works,  iii.  411).     And    cf.     Commonplace    Book,    i. 
83-86. 

4i.  86 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       89 

It  will  be  noticed  that,  with  the  exception  of  the 
third,1  these  are  faults  only  on  Berkeley's  own 
metaphysical  theory. 

He  now  makes  his  criticism  "  more  homely  " — a 
favourite  phrase  of  his — and  maintains  that  infini 
tesimals  are  wholly  inconceivable.  The  line  of 
argument  is  indicated  twice  over,2  and  is  again  based 
on  his  own  metaphysic.  For  the  purposes  of  his 
proof  he  posits  two  axioms  :  (I)  "  No  word  to  be  used 
without  an  idea,"  and  (II)  "  No  reasoning  about 
things  whereof  we  have  no  idea."  3  Now,  we  have 
no  idea,  Berkeley  says,  of  an  infinitesimal.  By  this 
he  means,  according  to  his  terminology,  that  infini 
tesimals  cannot  be  either  objects  of  sense-perception 
or  objects  of  representation  in  imagination.  Hence, 
as  we  have  no  idea  of  an  infinitesimal,  it  is  simply  a 
word.  Further,  according  to  axiom  I,  it  is  a  word 
which  means  nothing  ;  and,  according  to  axiom  II, 
we  have  no  right  to  use  it  in  our  calculations.4 

The  general  principle  that  infinite  divisibility  is 

1  A  word  of  explanation  on  the  third  point.     Berkeley  proves 
that  it  is  an  error  as  follows.     It  assumes  that  the  integer  1  ia 
infinitely  divisible,  i.e.  divisible  into  an  infinite  number  of  parts. 
But,  says  Berkeley,  that  which  has  an  infinite  number  of  parts 
must  itself  be  infinite.     Hence  the  integer  1  must  be  infinite  ; 
or,  in  other  words,  unity  and  infinity  are  identical.     But  that  is 
absurd.     Hence   the   original   proposition   must   be   false.     We 
conclude,  then,  that  unity  ia  not  infinitely  divisible.     (Common 
place  Book,  i.  87  and  89.) 

2  i.  87  and  89. 

3  This  axiom  is  clearly  inconsistent  with  Berkeley's  theory  of 
algebra.     In  algebra  we  reason  on  signs  of  which  we  have  no 
idea. 

4  Berkeley's  own  views  on   infinity   were   very  vague.     Thus 
he  sometimes  uses  ad  infinitum  and  ad  indefinitum  as  though 
they  were  synonymous.     (Commonplace  Book,  i.  67,  78.) 


90  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

a  fiction  is  applied  by  Berkeley  to  the  two  special 
relations  of  space  and  time.  He  holds  that  time 
is  not  infinitely  divisible,  because  "  time  is  the  train 
of  ideas  succeeding  each  other."  Since  time  is 
simply  this  series  of  particular  indivisible  ideas,  it  is 
not  infinitely  divisible,  for,  however  far  you  may 
divide  it,  you  come  eventually  to  unitary  ideas 
incapable  of  further  division. 

The  same  argument  applies  to  the  doctrine  of  the 
infinite  divisibility  of  space.  Since,  on  his  theory, 
space  consists  simply  of  a  compages  of  co-existent 
ideas,  the  process  of  division,  however  far  it  be 
carried,  will  eventually  be  checked  by  the  indi 
visibility  of  the  simple  ideas  of  which  it  is  composed. 
The  doctrine  of  the  infinite  divisibility  of  extension 
rests,  Berkeley  thinks,  on  the  mistaken  belief  that 
extension  has  real  external  existence.  "  The  latter 
is  false,"  he  says,  "ergo  ye  former  also."  *  Exten 
sion,  then,  is  not  infinitely  divisible.  Further,  it  is 
not  infinitely  extended.  "  Our  idea  we  call  exten 
sion  neither  way  capable  of  infinity,  i.e.  neither 
infinitely  small  or  great."  2  No  extended  object  can 
exist  smaller  than  the  minimum  sensibile,  and  no 
extended  object  can  exist  larger  than  we  can  picture 
in  imagination.  This  is  Berkeley's  theory. 

We  have  now  considered,  in  outline,  Berkeley's 
attitude,  as  revealed  in  the  Commonplace  Book,  to 
contemporary  mathematical  problems.  His  willing 
ness  to  throw  overboard  the. solid  achievements  of 
the  established  geometry  simply  because  they  did 
not  accord  with  an  apergu  of  his  own  does  not 
encourage  us  to  rate  his  mathematical  ability  very 

i  i.  59.  2  i.  63. 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       91 

highly.1  Or  perhaps  it  would  be  truer  to  say  that  when 
he  wrote  the  Commonplace  Book  he  had  not  had  time 
to  steady  his  outlook  upon  science  and  the  world  ; 
and  allowance  may  fairly  be  made  for  his  youthful 
dreams  of  a  New  Idea  which  was  destined  to 
revolutionise  the  sciences,  when  we  remember  that 
it  was  only  about  seventy-three  years  since  Galileo 
expounded  the  Copernican  theory  and  thus  changed 
entirely  the  orientation  of  astronomy,  and  indeed  of 
science  as  a  whole.  Another  "  Copernican  change," 
Berkeley  believed,  was  not  an  impossibility  ;  and, 
in  any  case,  he  was  inclined  to  think  that  the  wonder 
ful  mathematical  renaissance  of  the  previous  few 
decades  had,  among  all  its  triumphs,  grown  not  a 
few  excrescences  and  callosities,  which  it  would  do 
no  harm  to  pare  off.  And  it  was  his  boast  that  his 
theory  would  simplify  the  sciences  and  abridge  the 
labour  of  study. 

Is  it  possible  for  us,  gathering  up  the  strands  of 
our  long  investigation  of  the  early  development  of 
Berkeley's  thought,  to  estimate  concisely  the  philo 
sophical  position  of  the  Commonplace  Book  ?  If  it 
can  be  summed  up  in  a  single  word,  that  word  is 
Particularism.  In  every  department  of  knowledge 

1  Berkeley  makes  a  good  many  foolish  and  supercilious 
remarks  on  mathematics  and  mathematicians  in  the  Common 
place  Book.  This  is  especially  the  case  in  regard  to  Newton. 
Such  entries  as  "  Newton  begs  his  principles  :  I  demonstrate 
mine,"  and  "  Newton's  harangue  amounts  to  no  more  than  that 
gravity  is  proportional  to  gravity  "  read  strangely  in  comparison 
with  the  contemporary  estimates  of  men  who  were  better 
qualified  than  he  to  judge  of  the  value  of  Newton's  work.  Cf., 
e.g.,  Halley's  "  Nee  fas  est  propius  mortali  attingere  divos,"  and 
de  FHopital's  almost  serious  question  whether  Newton  ate, 
drank,  and  slept. 


92  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

which  Berkeley  touches  his  emphasis  is  laid  on  the 
particular. 

The  universe  consists  of  particular  persons,  each 
with  innumerable  particular  ideas  or  sensations. 
These  groups  of  particular  ideas  form  the  particular 
worlds  in  which  particular  persons  live.  The  worlds 
are  private  and  particular,  and  Berkeley  is  forced 
to  introduce  God  to  correlate  them,  in  order 
to  make  knowledge  and  social  life  possible. 
Hence  his  occasionalism,  which  means  the  continual 
correlation  of  particulars,  his  view  of  time  as  a 
succession  of  particular  instants  differing  for  each 
particular  being  in  whose  experience  it  exists,  and 
his  theory  of  space  as  not  merely  private  to  each  par 
ticular  person,  but  private  to  each  particular  sense. 

His  theory  of  knowledge  also  is  frankly  particu- 
larist.  The  particular  ideas  which  constitute  the 
experience  of  each  particular  person  may  be  aggre 
gated  in  various  ways,  but  they  never  form  a  uni 
versal  :  they  always  remain  a  bundle  of  particulars. 
Reasoning  is  carried  on  by  particular  words,  which, 
though  general  in  their  signification,  still  remain 
particular  words.  And  the  syllogism  is  either  a 
tautology  or  a  paradox. 

This  particularism  is  obtrusive  in  his  mathematics. 
Lines  consist  of  particular  points,  surfaces  of  parti 
cular  lines,  and  solids  of  particular  surfaces.  Infinity 
is  impossible,  because  the  infinite  can  never  be  made 
up  of  particulars,  however  many  we  take  ;  and,  for 
the  same  reason,  a  true  theory  of  continuity  is 
excluded. 

Everywhere  the  particular  and  concrete  is  em 
phasised  ;  everywhere  the  general  and  abstract  is 


ORIGINS  OF  BERKELEY'S  THOUGHT       93 

depreciated  or  denied.  Almost  every  philosophical 
term  which  connotes  a  tendency  to  particularism 
may  be  predicated  of  the  Berkeley  of  this  early  period. 
Sensationalist,  atomist,  empiricist,  singularist,  pheno- 
menalist,  solipsist,  occasionalist — all  these  may  be 
applied  with  greater  or  less  truth  to  the  writer  of 
the  Commonplace  Book.  But  suggestions  of  a  more 
adequate  view  are,  as  we  have  seen,  to  be  found  even 
in  the  Commonplace  Book.  The  development  of  his 
philosophy  was  to  involve  a  gradually  deepening 
realisation  of  the  importance  of  the  universal,  both 
in  knowledge  and  in  reality.  That  evolution  of 
thought  will  be  traced  in  subsequent  chapters. 


CHAPTER  III 
THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  VISION 

BERKELEY'S  method,  as  we  have  seen,  is  psycho 
logical.  Psychology  forms  the  basis  of  his  work. 
And  apart  from  his  general  psychological  interest 
and  attitude,  he  introduces  into  his  writings  from 
time  to  time  much  special  psychology,  inextricably 
interwoven  with  metaphysics,  theory  of  knowledge, 
and  philosophy  of  religion.  It  would  be  an  almost 
impossible  task,  and  not  a  very  profitable  one,  to 
try  to  isolate  completely  Berkeley's  psychology. 
That  task  will  not  be  attempted  in  this  chapter. 
The  chapter  will  be  confined  to  a  statement  and 
examination  of  Berkeley's  theory  of  vision,  perhaps 
the  most  original  of  all  his  work,  and  certainly  his 
most  solid  contribution  to  psychology. 

Berkeley's  theory  of  perception  is  strictly  psy 
chological.  This  is  worth  noting,  for  it  was  the  first 
strictly  psychological  theory  of  visual  perception 
ever  advanced.  Berkeley's  significance  for  psycho 
logy  rests  largely  on  the  fact  that  he  was  one  of 
the  first  thinkers  to  suggest  the  modern  view  of 
psychology  as  the  positive  science  of  individual 
experience.  His  treatment  of  the  special  problem 
with  which  we  are  now  concerned  differs  both  from 

94 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  VISION  95 

Aristotelian  and  Scholastic  physiological  doctrines 
on  the  one  hand,  and  from  the  mathematical  theories 
of  the  Cartesians  on  the  other. 

Instead  of  criticising  in  detail  the  Scholastic 
method  of  dealing  with  the  problem,  Berkeley 
simply  rules  it  out  of  court  as  irrelevant.  The 
problem  of  vision,  he  says,  is  a  psychological  one, 
and  physiological  considerations  do  not  require  to 
be  taken  into  account.  Berkeley's  protest  against 
Scholastic  physiological  psychology  is  not  only 
perfectly  justified  on  his  own  philosophical  premisses, 
but  is  also  notable  as  the  first  demand  in  the  history 
of  philosophy  that  psychological  questions  should 
be  treated  as  psychology,  and  should  not  be  solved 
by  referring  them  to  physiology.  In  spite  of 
Berkeley,  physiological  psychology  has  returned  in 
a  new  form  ;  and  while  most  psychologists  would 
now  admit  that  a  psychological  theory  of  vision  must 
take  into  account  the  physiology  of  the  eye,  Berkeley's 
attitude  is  still  valuable  as  a  protest  against  the 
tendency,  still  too  prevalent,  to  suppose  that  a 
physiological  explanation  is  necessarily  psycho 
logically  adequate. 

Against  the  geometrical  optics,  which  Cartesianism 
had  been  developing,  Berkeley  brings  a  special 
criticism,  which  is  quite  unanswerable.  The  Car 
tesians  maintained  that  we  perceive  distance  by 
means  of  the  angle  formed  by  the  concurrence  on 
the  object  perceived  of  two  imaginary  lines  extending 
from  the  eye  to  the  object.  The  greater  the  angle 
subtended,  the  less  is  the  distance  of  the  object  from 
the  eye.  Thus  we  perceive  varying  distances  by 
means  of  the  varying  angles.  Now  the  fatal  defect 


96  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

of  this  theory,  Berkeley  argues,  is  precisely  its  mathe 
matical  demonstrability.  It  could  be  proved,  so 
that  even  the  blind  would  have  to  admit  it.  This 
fact  proves  its  inadequacy  as  a  theory  of  vision. 
For  if  the  born-blind  are  as  capable  of  understanding 
a  theory  of  vision  as  those  who  actually  have  the 
experience  of  sight,  the  theory  must  have  abstracted 
from  the  real  facts  of  vision,  because  these  are  facts 
which  must  remain  forever  unknown  to  the  born- 
blind.  Thus  since  the  born-blind  can  understand 
this  mathematical  science  of  optics,  it  must,  as  an 
account  and  interpretation  of  the  actual  facts  of 
vision,  be  either  false  or  inadequate.1 

Another  vital  criticism  is  advanced  by  Berkeley. 
It  applies  equally  to  the  physiological  psychology 
and  the  geometrical  optics  of  the  day.  Berkeley 
insists  that  the  problem  of  vision  is  a  problem  solely 
of  vision  ;  and  thus  tactual  data  are  strictly  irre 
levant  to  its  solution.  Berkeley  has  much  to  say, 
as  we  shall  see  below,  on  the  relation  of  visual  and 
tactual  sensations.  But  these  tactual  sensations  are 
concerned  not  with  vision  pure  and  simple,  but 
with  inferences.  The  physiological  and  geometrical 
sciences  of  optics,  with  which  Berkeley  was  familiar, 
depended  on  tactual  data ;  and  therefore  in 
Berkeley's  opinion,  whatever  else  they  might  be, 
they  were  not  really  sciences  of  optics,  which  must 
be  concerned  solely  with  vision. 

Leaving  aside  all  physiological  and  geometrical 
considerations,  Berkeley  attempts  to  construct  a 
theory  of  the  perception  of  distance  and  magnitude, 
based  solely  on  the  data  of  vision.  He  takes  into 

1  New  Theory  of  Vision,  i.  146. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  VISION  97 

account  only  "the  proper  and  peculiar  facts  of 
sight — the  facts,  the  whole  facts,  and  nothing  but 
the  facts  of  that  particular  and  isolated  sense."  1 
In  dealing  with  these  facts,  Berkeley's  method  is 
definitely  empirical  and  introspective.  Here  again 
he  differs  from  both  Scholasticism  and  Cartesianism. 
He  states  the  results  he  has  himself  obtained  by 
examining  his  own  visual  experience,  and  he  appeals 
to  others  whether  the  result  of  their  introspection 
does  not  confirm  his  conclusions.2  Berkeley's  task 
is  thus  an  introspective  examination  of  the  facts  of 
vision.  But  he  restricts  the  immediate  area  of  his 
enquiry  to  two  particular  problems,  (i)  "  the  manner 
wherein  we  perceive  by  sight  the  distance,  magnitude, 
and  situation  of  objects  "  ;  and  (ii)  "  the  difference 
there  is  betwixt  the  ideas  of  sight  and  touch,  and 
whether  there  be  any  idea  common  to  both  senses."  3 
It  is  perhaps  worth  while  to  have  made  quite  clear 
what  Berkeley's  problem  really  is,  for  much  of  the 
criticism  directed  against  his  theory  arises  from  a 
misapprehension  of  the  exact  scope  of  his  enquiry. 

Berkeley  begins  by  stating  two  points,  which  are 
"  agreed  by  all,"  and  which  form  the  assumptions  on 
which  his  own  theory  is  built.  The  first  of  these  is 
that  distance  is  by  itself  invisible.  Distance  is  a 
line  directed  endwise  to  the  eye,  and  whatever  the 
length  of  the  line,  i.e.  whatever  the  distance,  only  an 
invisible  point,  which  remains  always  the  same,  is 
projected  on  the  retina.  It  is  also  generally  agreed 
that  the  distance  of  "considerably  remote"  objects 
is  not  immediately  perceived  by  sense,  but  is  judged 

1  Ferrier  :    Philosophical  Remains,  ii.  325. 

2  New  Theory  of  Vision,  i.  130,  133,  148,  152.       »  Ibid.  i.  127. 

B.P. 


98  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

or  estimated  on  the  basis  of  past  experience.  With 
both  these  accepted  views  Berkeley  thoroughly 
agrees.  His  own  contribution  consists  in  extending 
the  accepted  theory  with  regard  to  the  perception  of 
the  distance  of  considerably  remote  objects  to  objects 
near  at  hand.  To  account  for  the  perception  of  near 
distance  contemporary  optics  had  suggested  a  theory 
which  Berkeley  considered  entirely  false.  Berkeley 
therefore  criticises  this  theory,  and  substitutes  for  it 
an  extension  of  the  accepted  theory  of  the  perception 
of  remote  distance.  It  has  sometimes  been  assumed 
by  Berkeley's  disciples  as  well  as  by  his  critics  that 
the  theory  that  distance  is  not  immediately  perceived 
but  is  suggested  by  experience  is  Berkeley's  great 
discovery.  He  has  then  been  criticised  for  merely 
stating  it,  without  any  attempt  at  proof.1  But  the 
fact  is,  as  Berkeley  himself  explicitly  points  out,  that 
he  simply  takes  over  the  theory  from  contemporary 
speculation.  He  does  not  attempt  to  prove  it, 
partly  because  it  was  a  commonplace  of  contem 
porary  psychology,  and  partly  because  he  regards  it 
as  self-evident.2 

Both  points,  (a)  that  distance  is  invisible,  and 
(6)  that  magnitude  is  suggested  rather  than  per 
ceived",  sLre  to  be  found  in  Malebranche.  But  Male- 
branche  also  holds  the  theory  which  Berkeley 

1  Cf .  S.  Bailey :  A  Review  of  Berkeley's  Theory  of  Vision,  and 
T.  K.  Abbott :  Sight  and  Touch. 

2  A  strong  argument  that  it  is  logically  impossible  to  perceive 
distance  by  sight  has  been  advanced  by  Ferrier  (Philosophical 
Remains,  ii.  330  sqq.)  and  Lipps  (Psychologische  Studien,  69  sqq.). 
They  maintain  that  a  visible  distance  must  be  between  visible 
termini.     In  the  case  of  the  distance  of  an  object  from  the  eye, 
one  of  the  termini  is  the  eye  itself,  which  13  not  seen.     Thus 
distance  cannot  be  seen. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  VISION  99 

attacks- — that  the  distance  of  near  objects  is  per 
ceived  by  a  system  of  lines  and  angles.1  For  the 
rest,  Berkeley  certainly  owes  a  good  deal  to  the 
French  Father.  Malebranche  gives  an  account  of 
the  six  kinds  of  signs  by  which  we  learn  to  estimate 
the  distance  of  remote  objects,  and  the  most  im 
portant  of  these  are  also  mentioned  by  Berkeley. 
Berkeley  extends  Malebranche's  theory  of  the  per 
ception  of  remote  distance  to  the  perception  of  all 
distance.  And  with  regard  also  to  the  perception 
of  magnitude,  Berkeley's  theory  owes  much  to 
Malebranche.  Malebranche  points  out  that  real 
magnitude  is  not  immediately  perceived,  but  is,  like 
distance,  estimated  or  inferred.2  Every  sense- 
perception,  according  to  Malebranche,  involves 
judgment.  Bare  sensations  require  to  be  interpreted 
and  only  with  the  help  of  certain  natural  judgments 
can  they  become  significant  parts  of  our  mental 
experience.  It  would  have  been  well  for  Berkeley's 
theory  if  he  had  appreciated  as  keenly  as  Male 
branche  the  importance  of  the  element  of  judgment 
or  estimate.  On  the  other  hand,  Berkeley  improves 
on  Malebranche  by  taking  into  account  the  relation 
of  tactual  and  visual  sensations,  in  the  determination 
of  distance  and  magnitude.  Malebranche  almost 
completely  ignores  the  importance  of  tactual  sensa 
tions.  Berkeley  very  probably  thought  that  his 
recognition  of  tactual  experience  as  a  main  deter 
minant  of  our  knowledge  of  distance  and  magnitude 
rendered  superfluous  Malebranche's  elaborate  system 
of  natural  judgments. 

1  Recherche  de  la  Verite,  i.  ix.  3. 
8  Cf,  Reponse  a  M,  Regis,  i.  §  1-3. 


100  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

It  is  clear  from  the  Commonplace  Book  that  no  other 
thinker  influenced  Berkeley's  theory  of  vision  so 
much  as  Malebranche.  The  same  two  points  on 
which  Berkeley  was  specially  indebted  to  Male 
branche  appear  also  in  Molyneux  and  Locke.  In 
almost  the  same  words  as  Berkeley  subsequently 
used,  Molyneux  says,  "  Distance  of  itself  is  not  to  be 
perceived  ;  for  'tis  a  line  (or  length)  presented  in 
our  eye  with  its  end  towards  us,  which  must  therefore 
be  only  a  point,  and  that  is  invisible.  ...  In  plain 
vision  the  estimate  we  make  of  the  distance  of 
objects  ...  is  rather  the  act  of  our  judgment  than 
of  sense."  l  But  Molyneux  still  believes  the 
traditional  view  of  the  perception  of  near  objects. 
The  importance  of  the  question  of  the  relation  of 
tactual  and  visual  sensations  may  well  have  been 
suggested  to  Berkeley  by  the  problem  proposed  by 
Molyneux,  which  Locke  discusses  in  the  second 
edition  of  the  Essay.  The  problem  is  this.  Suppose 
a  born-blind  man  has  been  taught  to  distinguish  by 
touch  a  cube  and  a  sphere.  If  he  were  then  made 
to  see,  would  he  at  first  be  able  by  sight  to  distinguish 
between  a  sphere  and  cube  standing  on  a  table  out 
of  his  reach  ?  Both  Molyneux  and  Locke  answer 
in  the  negative.2  The  born-blind  man  would  have 
to  learn  by  experience  which  object  previously 
known  by  tactual  experience  is  referred  to  by  each 
set  of  visual  sensations.  The  connection  between 
tactual  sensations  and  visual  sensations  involved  in 

1  Treatise  of  Dioptrics,  i.  §  31. 

2  Essay,  n.  xi.  8.     The  passage  is  quoted  by  Berkeley  in  the 
New  Theory  of  Vision  (i.  193),  where  he  somewhat  disingenuously 
regards  it  as  "a  confirmation  of  our  tenet." 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  VISION  101 

our  sense-knowledge  of  the  same  object  is  wholly 
empirical.     This  is  precisely  Berkeley's  view. 

On  the  whole,  then,  while  claiming  for  Berkeley 
real  originality,  we  do  not  suggest  that  he  discovered 
any  previously  unknown  truth.  It  would  be  more 
correct  to  say  that  he  sought  to  make  the  traditional 
view,  purged  of  all  its  physiological  and  geometrical 
excrescences,  self-consistent.  The  traditional  view 
was  inconsistent  in  drawing  a  distinction  between 
near  and  remote  distance,  and  in  giving  different 
explanations  of  our  perception  of  these  kinds  of 
distance.  Berkeley  maintains  that  there  is  only  one 
kind  of  distance,  and  only  one  explanation  of  our 
awareness  of  it. 

We  may  now  proceed  to  state  and  examine 
Berkeley's  theory  in  some  detail.  Berkeley  main 
tains  that  our  awareness  of  distance  is  an  inference 
from  experience.  It  is  not  immediately  perceived, 
but  is  suggested  to  the  mind  by  some  other  idea  or 
sensation.  We  know  by  experience  that  when  we 
look  at  any  object  with  the  two  eyes,  we  alter  the 
relative  position  of  the  eyes,  according  as  the  object 
approaches  or  recedes  from  us.  The  turning  of 
the  eyes  is  accompanied  by  certain  sensations,  and 
these  sensations  are  connected  in  experience  with, 
and  come  to  suggest,  greater  or  less  distance.  The 
connection  between  these  muscular  sensations  and 
objects  is  purely  empirical,  customary,  and  arbitrary. 
"Because  the  mind  has  by  constant  experience 
found  the  different  sensations  corresponding  to  the 
different  dispositions  of  the  eyes  to  be  attended 
each  with  a  different  degree  of  distance  in  the  object, 
there  has  grown  an  habitual  or  customary  connection 


102  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

between  those  two  sorts  of  ideas."  l  Berkeley  also 
mentions  two  other  marks  or  signs  of  distance. 
(a)  If  objects  are  very  close  to  the  eye,  our  vision  of 
them  is  confused  ;  and  the  confusion  increases  as 
the  distance  decreases.  (6)  But  this  confused 
appearance  may  for  some  time  be  prevented  by 
straining  the  eye.  In  such  a  case,  the  sensation  of 
strain  is  connected  empirically,  in  the  same  way  as 
the  confused  appearance,  with  the  distance  of  the 
object.2 

Berkeley  is  at  special  pains  to  point  out  that  the 
connection  between  these  sensations  and  the 
distances  of  objects  is  entirely  arbitrary.  They  are 
connected  not  by  any  necessary  tie,  but  solely  by 
association.  None  of  the  signs  of  distance  have, 
in  their  own  nature  or  necessarily,  any  relation  or 
connection  with  it.  From  constant  experience  of 
the  coexistence  of  sign  and  distance  signified,  we 
come  to  infer  from  a  given  collocation  of  signs  a 
certain  distance.  "  That  one  idea  may  suggest 
another  to  the  mind,  it  will  suffice  that  they  have 
been  observed  to  go  together,  without  any  demon 
stration  of  the  necessity  of  their  coexistence." 

1  New  Theory  of  Vision,  i.  132. 

2  Berkeley  states  (i.  135)  that  this  list  of  visual  signs  does  not 
pretend  to   be  an  exhaustive  enumeration.     Other  marks  had 
been   mentioned    by   his    predecessors,    e.g.,    Malebranche,    who 
mentions  the  size,   force,   definiteness,   and  distinctness  of  the 
retinal  image,   and  the  number  and  kind  of  the  intermediate 
objects  (Recherche  de  la  Verite,  I.  ix.  3).     But  it  was  not  Berkeley's 
purpose  to  give  a  complete  list  of  visual  signs,  such  as  has  been 
given  by  Helmholtz.     His  aim  was  directed  to  show  that,  what 
ever  visual  signs  there  might  be,  the  connection  between  them 
and  objects  could  not  be  other  than  empirical  and  arbitrary. 
To  attain  this  result  he  considered  a  perfect  induction  unnecessary. 

3  New  Theory  of  Vision,  i.  134. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  VISION  103 

Thus,  since  in  our  experience  the  more  confused  the 
sensation  the  less  the  distance,  a  sensation  of  con 
fusion  no  sooner  occurs  but  it  suggests  the  distance 
which  in  previous  experience  has  been  found  to 
coexist  with  it.  If  it  had  been  our  experience,  or 
(what  is  the  same  thing)  if  it  had  been  the  course 
of  nature,  that  the  more  confused  the  sensation  the 
greater  the  distance,  then  the  same  series  of  sensa 
tions  which  make  us  think  that  an  object  is  approach 
ing  would  then  lead  us  to  suppose  that  it  was  re 
ceding.1  The  connection  is  purely  empirical  and 
arbitrary. 

The  proof  that  distance  is  not  immediately 
perceived,  but  is  suggested  by  various  signs,  though 
Berkeley  hints  at  it  in  §  18,  is  not  explicitly  stated 
by  him.  But  as  Mill  has  shown,  "  the  evidence  of 
the  doctrine  is  of  that  positive  and  irrefragable 
character  which  cannot  often  be  obtained  in  psy 
chology  ;  it  amounts  to  a  complete  induction." 2 
The  actual  arguments  which  Berkeley  suggests  are 
those  afterwards  named  by  Mill  the  methods  of 
Agreement,  Difference,  and  Concomitant  Variations. 
When  a  certain  sign  is  present,  a  certain  distance  is 
indicated  ;  when  the  sign  is  absent,  the  distance 
cannot  be  inferred  ;  and  every  change  in  the  distance 
is  proportionate  to  the  alteration  in  the  signs.  From 
these  arguments  Mill  would  infer  a  causal  relation 
between  distance  and  sign.  But  Berkeley  does  not, 
in  the  New  Theory  of  Vision,  go  beyond  the  assertion 
of  uniform  coexistence,  though  later,  e.g.  in  the 
Theory  of  Vision  Vindicated,  he  shows  that  this 

1  New  Theory  of  Vision,  i.  134. 

2  Dissertations  and  Discussions,  iv.  160. 


104  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

empirical  connection,  though  arbitrary,  is  not 
capricious,  but  depends  on  the  will  of  God,  and  is 
thus  in  Berkeley's  sense  a  causal  relation. 

Having  shown  that  all  perception  of  distance  is 
an  inference  from  experience,  Berkeley  proceeds  to 
prove  that  the  only  things  directly  perceived  are 
colours.  It  was  generally  agreed  in  contemporary 
speculation  that  colour  is  immediately  perceived, 
but  Berkeley  goes  further  and  holds  that  nothing 
but  colour  is  immediately  perceived.1  Thus  the  real 
magnitude  and  situation  of  objects  is  as  imper 
ceptible  as  their  distance.  By  the  "  distance  "  of 
an  object  we  mean  the  distance  of  the  object  from 
the  eye.  "  Situation  "  depends  on  the  distance  of 
one  object  from  another,  and  "  magnitude  "  on  the 
distance  of  the  parts  of  an  object  from  one  another. 
In  every  case  the  conception  of  distance  is  involved, 
and  in  every  case  sight  properly  supplies  only  colour. 
Colours  appear  in  certain  arrangements  which  are 
called  apparent  figure,  apparent  position,  and 
apparent  magnitude.  Now  apparent  figure,  apparent 
position,  and  apparent  magnitude  have  existence  in 
two  dimensions  only.  They  have  length  and  breadth 
but  no  depth,  for  in  immediate  perception  we 
perceive  only  coloured  plane  surfaces.  One  differ 
ence  between  distance  from  the  eye  and  distance  in 
a  plane  surface  may  be  noted.  The  former  kind  of 
distance  is  entirely  imperceptible,  because  every 
distance  projects  only  a  single  point  on  the  retina. 
But  lateral  or  transverse  distance,  i.e.  distance 
between  two  objects  in  a  plane,  projects  a  line  on 
the  retina.  This  line  on  the  retina  is  immediately 

1  New  Theory  of  Vision,  i.  146. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  VISION  105 

perceived,  but  is  perceived  only  as  an  apparent 
distance.  The  real  distance  must  be  estimated  or 
inferred.  In  immediate  visual  experience  we  per 
ceive  only  colour.  All  else  is  an  inference  from  other 
experience.1 

Before  examining  the  nature  of  this  other  experi 
ence,  we  may  notice  a  question  of  importance  in  its 
relation  to  Berkeley's  general  metaphysical  theory. 
When  Berkeley  says  that  distance  or  outness  is  not 
immediately  perceived  by  sight,  does  he  mean  that 
we  are  unable  to  perceive  visible  objects  as  external 
at  all,  or  that,  while  we  can  and  do  perceive  that 
objects  are  external,  i.e.  at  some  distance  from  the 
eye,  we  are  incapable  of  perceiving  their  relative 
distance  from  it  and  from  one  another  ?  One  of 
F^i7r31""VTT's  critics  (Bailey)  has  said,  "  Whether 
objects  are  seen  iJ  I'-  external  or  at  some  distance, 
is  one  question  entirely  distinct  from  the  enquiry— 
whether  objects  are  seen  by  tn«A  rnassisted  vision 

1  James,  among  others,  maintains  that  distance  io  ir  mediately 
perceived.  He  denies  the  Berkeleian  hypothesis,  and  though  he 
holds  that  its  logical  arguments  are  irrefragable,  he  holds  thti£ 
its  introspective  analysis  is  mistaken.  "  The  feeling  of  depth  or 
distance,  of  farness  or  awayness,  does  actually  exist  as  a  fact  of 
our  visual  sensibility  "  (The  Perception  of  Space,  Mind.  1887, 
p.  330).  James  maintains  that  all  sensations  are  voluminous, 
and  that  a  sensation  of  depth  or  distance  is  as  immediate  as  one 
of  the  other  two  dimensions.  But  James's  introspective  account 
of  sensation  comes  perilously  near  to  committing  the  fallacy 
which  he  himself  christened  the  psychologist's.  He  examines 
his  own  experience,  and  because  he  finds  in  that  experience  what 
appears  to  be  a  sensation  of  depth,  he  assumes  that  distance  is 
immediately  and  originally  perceived.  Even  if  James's  intro 
spective  result  be  strictly  accurate,  the  proper  inference  from  it 
is  not  that  distance  is  immediately  and  originally  perceived,  but 
only  that  in  our  developed  experience  it  seems  to  be  sensed, 
though  it  may  really  only  be  estimated  and  inferred  from  a 
collocation  of  previous  visual  and  tactual  sensations. 


106  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

to  be  at  different  distances  from  the  percipient." 
Bailey  then  attacks  Berkeley  on  the  ground  that  he 
uniformly  assumes  these  problems  to  be  the  same, 
or  at  least  takes  it  for  granted  that  they  are  to  be 
determined  by  the  same  arguments.  Now  Berkeley 
does  not  assume  the  questions  to  be  the  same,  and 
he  distinctly  points  out  that  the  immediate  objects 
of  vision  are  not  external.  They  are  at  no  distance 
from  the  eye.1 

But  in  Terrier's  statement  that  the  theory  of 
vision  is  an  "  idealism  of  the  eye  "  2  there  lurks  a 
suggestio  falsi  which  comes  forth  naked  and  un 
ashamed  in  Abbott's  words,  "  There  is  indeed  only 
one  dogmatic  system  consistent  with  the  Berkeleian 
theory  of  vision,  and  that  is  Berkeleian  idealism."  3 
This  is  not  so.  The  theory  of  visual  t^^p^n 
rests  on  its  own  evidence,  .and.  Vv^nie  Berkeley  could 
and  did  regard  it  as  a  a  anticipation  of  his  meta 
physical  doctrin-.i^nas  in  point  of  fact  been  accepted, 
and  qui^e  consistently,  by  most  subsequent  philo 
sophers,  however  much  their  metaphysical  positions 
might  differ  from  his. 

Berkeley  himself  supplies  the  best  proof  that  the 
theory  of  vision  does  not  necessarily  imply  imma- 
terialism,  by  his  explanation  of  tactual  experience. 
He  everywhere  speaks  as  though  touch  bears  witness 
to  an  external  non-mental  reality.4  It  is  from  this 

1  New  Theory  of  Vision,  i.  150,  152. 

2  Philosophical  Remains,  ii.  324.  3  Sight  and  Touch,  iii. 

4  It  is  clear  from  the  Commonplace  Book  that  when  Berkeley 
wrote  the  New  Theory  of  Vision  he  had  already  excogitated  his 
thoroughgoing  immaterialism.  Berkeley  tells  us  also  that  he 
used  the  old  terminology  in  dealing  with  touch  in  the  New  Theory 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  VISION  107 

tactual  experience,  taken  in  conjunction  with  the 
various  visual  signs,  that  we  are  able  to  infer  the 
real  magnitude,  distance,  position  and  size  of  objects. 
Tactual  experience  is  the  other  experience,  to  which 
we  referred  a  moment  or  two  ago,  that  is  necessary 
to  our  cognition  of  objects.  Tactual  sensations 
become  connected  in  our  experience  with  visual 
sensations,  and  the  visual  sensation  becomes  the 
sign  of  the  tactual  sensation,  so  that  on  every 
occurrence  of  certain  visual  sensations  we  infer  that 
under  certain  conditions  certain  tactual  sensations 
will  ensue.  "  Having  of  a  long  time  experienced 
certain  ideas  perceivable  by  touch — as  distance, 
tangible  figure,  and  solidity — to  have  been  connected 
with  certain  ideas  of  sight,  I  do,  upon  perceiving 
these  ideas  of  sight,  forthwith  conclude  what  tangible 
ideas  are,  by  the  wonted  ordinary  course  of  nature, 
like  to  follow.  Looking  at  an  object,  I  perceive 
a  certain  visible  figure  and  colour,  with  some  degree 
of  faintness  and  other  circumstances,  which,  from 
what  I  have  formerly  observed,  determine  me  to 
think  that  if  I  advance  forward  so  many  paces,  miles, 
etc.,  I  shall  be  affected  with  such  and  such  ideas  of 
touch.  So  that  in  truth  and  strictness  of  speech, 
I  neither  see  distance  itself,  nor  anything  that  I  take 
to  be  at  a  distance.  .  .  .  And  I  believe  whoever 
will  look  narrowly  into  his  own  thoughts,  will  agree 
with  me,  that  what  he  sees  only  suggests  to  his  under 
standing  that,  after  having  passed  a  certain  distance, 
to  be  measured  by  the  motion  of  his  body,  which  is 

of  Vision,  in  order  to  attempt,  by  insinuating  his  viev/s  gradually, 
to  win  for  them  a  more  favourable  reception  than  they  were 
likely  to  obtain,  if  they  appeared  too  paradoxical. 


108  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

perceivable  by  touch,  he  shall  come  to  perceive  such 
and  such  tangible  ideas,  which  have  been  usually 
connected  with  such  and  such  visible  ideas."  x 
Berkeley  points  out  that  two  kinds  of  objects  are 
apprehended  by  the  eye.  One  sort  consists  of 
colours,  and  is  immediately  and  primarily  perceived. 
The  other  kind  comprises  tangible  qualities  which 
are  secondarily  suggested  by  the  former  kind.  It 
may  seem  strange,  Berkeley  adds,  that  in  ordinary 
experience  we  never  discriminate  between  the  two 
sorts  of  objects  ;  and  further,  that  those  objects 
which  by  reflection  we  know  to  be  suggested  and  not 
immediately  perceived  are  usually  those  which  make 
the  greatest  impression  on  us.  The  difficulty  may 
be  explained,  according  to  Berkeley,  by  the  analogy 
of  language.  The  words  of  a  familiar  language  are 
not  themselves  deliberately  attended  to  :  the  ideas 
which  the  words,  as  signs,  suggest  make  an  impres 
sion  on  us,  though  the  mere  words  rarely  do.  Again, 
an  unreflective  mind  does  not  explicitly  differentiate 
words  and  ideas.  At  a  low  level  of  mental  develop 
ment  a  man  no  more  distinguishes  them  than  he  does 
visible  and  tangible  qualities. 

Nevertheless,  the  difficulty  is  a  real  one,  and 
Berkeley's  critics  are  right  in  expressing  their 
dissatisfaction  with  his  explanation.  The  strongest 
objection  advanced  is  that  Berkeley's  explanation 
does  not  account  for  the  fact  that  the  tactual  experi 
ences,  which  according  to  him  are  suggested  by 
visual  experiences,  are  not,  as  we  might  expect, 
clear-cut  and  definite,  but  vague  and  uncertain.  If, 
it  may  be  asked,  objects  seen  at  a  distance  consist 

1  New  Theory  of  Vision,  i.  148.     Italics  mine. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  VISION  109 

simply  of  tactual  sensations  suggested  by  visual 
sensations,  how  is  it  that  our  recollection  of  tactual 
sensations  is  so  indefinite  ?  If  visual  sensations 
are  mere  signs,  which  the  mind  rapidly  glides  over, 
and  hastens  to  the  tactual  sensations  with  which 
they  are  connected,  we  ought  to  be  distinctly  aware 
of  the  tactual  sensations  thus  suggested.  But  intro 
spection  assures  us  that  when  we  look  at  objects 
we  have  the  greatest  difficulty  in  recalling  tactual 
sensations.  Instead  of  being  bright  and  lively,  they 
are  dull  and  shadowy.  Taking  these  considerations 
into  account,  some  of  Berkeley's  critics,  e.g.  Bailey, 
maintain  that  wliile  we  do  not  perceive  distant 
objects  immediately,  we  estimate  their  magnitude 
and  distance,  not  by  inferring  tactual  impressions 
from  visual,  but  by  comparing  original  visual 
impressions  of  distance  with  other  visual  impressions 
otherwise  received. 

The  problem  which  these  critics  raise  is  a  real  one, 
and  it  is  impossible  to  give  a  satisfactory  solution  of 
it  without  admitting  that  on  one  vital  point  Berkeley 
made  a  serious  mistake.  The  explanation  of  the 
difficulty  depends  on  the  general  nature  of  the 
relation  of  sign  and  thing  signified.1  In  the  first 
place,  signs  are  not  noticed  so  much  as  the  things 
they  signify.  But,  in  the  second  place  (and  this  is 
the  point  of  special  importance  in  connection  with 
Bailey's  objection),  the  thing  signified  may  be  repre 
sented  to  the  mind  in  the  vaguest  possible  way.  To 
take  Berkeley's  analogy  of  language,  while  it  is  true 
that  words  are  not  generally  themselves  attended  to, 

1  Locke  approached  very  near  to  giving  this  explanation, 
Essay,  11.  ix.  8. 


110  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

but  only  the  things  or  ideas  which  they  signify,  it  is 
also  true  that  the  ideas  or  things  signified  are  not 
represented  to  the  mind  in  toto.  The  name  of  the 
thing  recalls  usually  only  one  or  two  significant 
elements  in  the  thing,  not  the  thing  with  all  its 
details.  Now,  this  analogy  is  exactly  applicable 
to  the  relation  between  visual  and  tactual  sensations. 
Visual  sensations,  through  long  experience,  come  to 
suggest  tactual  sensations  so  directly  and  so  rapidly 
that  the  tactual  sensations  in  their  turn  become  only 
signs,  from  which  the  mind  runs  on  to  the  identical 
thing,  of  which  the  visual  and  tactual  sensations 
alike  supply  only  partial  appearances.  This  is  what 
Berkeley  would  not  admit.  For  him,  tangible 
extension  is  not  a  sign  of  anything  else  :  it  is  the 
thing  signified,  and  nothing  but  this.  But  if 
Berkeley's  view  be  correct,  it  seems  impossible  to 
account  for  the  vagueness  of  tactual  sensations. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  we  admit  that  tactual  sensa 
tions  are  both  things  signified  and,  in  turn,  the  signs 
of  the  real  extension,  it  becomes  possible  to  see 
how  the  mind  may  run  rapidly  on  from  the  sign  to 
the  thing  signified,  and  then,  without  paying  special 
attention  to  this  signified  thing,  but  regarding  it  in 
turn  merely  as  a  sign  of  something  else,  may  proceed 
to  anything  else  that  it  does  suggest. 

We  have  already  seen  that  the  same  arguments 
that  apply  to  distance  hold  also  of  magnitude  and 
lateral  distance,  but  Berkeley  has  still  to  show  that 
the  visual  signs  which  suggest  magnitude  do  so  as 
immediately  as  they  suggest  distance.  According 
to  the  geometrical  optics  of  Berkeley's  day,  the 
magnitude  of  an  object  is  estimated  by  its  distance 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  VISION  111 

from  the  eye.  The  distance  of  an  object  from  the 
eye  is  first  found,  and  then  mediately  its  magnitude. 
But  Berkeley  maintains  that  visual  ideas  "  have  as 
close  and  immediate  a  connection  with  the  magnitude 
as  with  the  distance  ;  and  suggest  magnitude  as 
independently  of  distance  as  they  do  distance 
independently  of  magnitude."  l  At  first  sight,  this 
view  would  seem  to  be  difficult  to  uphold.  It  might 
be  pointed  out  that  our  estimate  of  the  real  magni 
tude  of  an  object  must  depend  on  our  knowledge 
of  the  distance  of  the  object.  We  estimate  the  size 
of  the  moon  from  the  distance  at  which  it  is. 
Because  we  know  the  sun's  distance  from  us  to  be 
greater  than  the  moon's,  we  judge  that  though  the 
visual  appearances  in  the  two  cases  represent  closely 
similar  apparent  extensions,  yet  the  real  magnitudes 
are  very  different.  Now  all  this  is  perfectly  true. 
But  it  is  also  true  that  we  can,  and  do,  estimate 
distance  from  magnitude.  From  previous  experi 
ence  we  have  formed  a  conception  of  the  visual 
magnitude  of  a  man.  When  we  see  a  man  at  a 
distance,  we  judge  his  distance  from  us  by  comparing 
the  actually  seen  magnitude  with  that  which  we 
know  him  to  possess.  Berkeley's  doctrine  is  per 
fectly  sound.  We  may  infer  distance  from  magni 
tude,  or  magnitude  from  distance.  But  we  do  not 
necessarily  infer  either  from  the  other. 

But  in  connection  with  magnitude  a  problem 
arises,  which  does  not  vex  the  discussion  of  distance. 
Distance  is  not  perceived  at  all,  only  inferred.  But 
magnitude  is  both  perceived  and  inferred.  Thus  we 
have  only  one  kind  of  distance,  but  two  kinds  (or, 

1  New  Theory  of  Vision,  i.  152. 


112  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

as  will  be  shown  later,  three  kinds),  of  magnitude. 
There  is  visible  magnitude  and  tangible  magnitude. 
But  magnitude  may  be  distinguised  in  another  way, 
as  apparent  or  real.  Now  Berkeley  has  no  hesitation 
in  identifying  apparent  with  visible  magnitude,  and 
real  with  tangible  magnitude.  Thus  for  him,  there 
are  only  two  kinds  of  magnitude,  (i)  visible  or 
apparent,  and  (ii)  tangible  or  real.  Visible  magni 
tude  cannot  be  real,  for  it  changes  as  the  object 
approaches  or  recedes  from  the  eye.  On  the  other 
hand,  tangible  magnitude  remains  invariably  the 
same,  and  thus  when  we  speak  of  the  magnitude 
of  anything,  "  we  must  mean  the  tangible  mag 
nitude."  l 

Berkeley  uniformly  insists  on  the  difference 
between  tangible  and  visible  magnitude.  "It  is 
plain  there  is  no  one  self-same  numerical  extension, 
perceived  both  by  sight  and  touch."  2  Thus,  (a) 
tangible  and  visible  extension  are  numerically 
different.  And,  (6)  they  are  also  qualitatively 
distinct.  Not  only  is  there  no  one  idea  common  to 
both  senses,  but  there  is  not  even  one  kind  of  idea 
common  to  both.  Extension,  figure,  and  motion 
as  perceived  by  sight  differ  and  differ  generically 
from  extension,  figure,  and  motion  as  perceived  by 
touch.  Three  main  arguments  in  support  of  this 
thesis  are  stated  by  Berkeley.3  (i)  We  are  apt  to 
confuse  visual  with  tactual  sensations,  partly  because 
we  have  grown  up  to  awareness  of  both  simultane- 

1  New  Theory  of  Vision,  i.  153.  2  Ibid.  i.  186. 

3  Berkeley  also  mentions  (§  132)  in  corroboration  of  his  doctrine 
Locke's  solution  of  Molyneux's  problem  of  the  born -blind  man 
with  the  cube  and  the  sphere.  (Locke's  Essay,  IT.  ii.  8.)  Cf. 
supra,  p.  100, 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  VISION  113 

ously,  and  partly  because  we  have  always  given  them 
the  same  name.  But  a  man  born  blind  would  not, 
on  receiving  his  sight,  identify  his  visual  sensations 
of  an  object  with  his  previously  acquired  tactual 
sensations.  He  would  require  to  be  taught  to  refer 
the  two  kinds  of  sensations  to  the  same  object.1 
(ii)  It  is  impossible  that  visible  and  tangible  extension 
should  be  the  same,  because  the  only  immediately 
perceptible  objects  of  sight  are  colours,  and  these 
cannot  be  perceived  by  touch.  Thus  no  object  can 
be  immediately  perceived  by  both  senses,  (iii)  It  is 
a  geometrical  axiom  that  "  quantities  of  the  same 
kind  may  be  added  together  to  make  one  entire  sum." 
We  can  add  lines  together,  or  solids  together  ;  but 
a  line  cannot  be  added  to  a  solid.  So,  says  Berkeley, 
we  can  add  tangible  extension  to  tangible  extension, 
or  visible  extension  to  visible  extension  ;  but  the 

1  In  corroboration  of  his  thesis  Berkeley  is  fond  of  referring  to 
the  first  visual  experience  of  the  born-blind  man  made  to  see. 
(§§41,  42,  79,  92-99,  103,  106,  110,  128,  132-137.)  And  in  the 
appendix  (added  in  the  second  edition)  he  refers  to  the  case  of 
William  Jones,  a  born-blind  man  restored  to  sight  at  the  age  of 
twenty.  (An  account  of  this  case  is  to  be  found  in  the  Taller  of 
August  16,  1709.)  Very  little  fresh  evidence  on  the  point  has 
come  to  light.  The  most  important  is  Cheselden's  case  (Philo 
sophical  Transactions,  1728),  which  has  usually  been  regarded  as 
confirmatory  of  Berkeley's  theory,  though  Hamilton  (Reid's 
Works,  i.  137n)  and  Abbott  (Sight  and  Touch,  145-148)  think 
otherwise.  Descriptions  of  a  few  other  cases  are  to  be  seen  in 
the  Philosophical  Transactions  for  1801,  1807,  1826  and  1841. 
An  interesting  recent  case  of  successful  operation  on  a  born -blind 
man,  which  seems  to  support  the  Berkeleian  view,  is  described 
by  Prof.  Latta  in  the  British  Journal  of  Psychology,  i.  135.  (But 
cf.  T.  K.  Abbott  in  Mind,  N.S.  xiii.  543.)  Inferences  have  also 
been  drawn  from  the  first  experiences  of  infants  and  the  young 
of  animals.  But  in  no  case  have  these  inferences  been  made  on 
sufficient  data.  They  therefore  do  not  justify  any  confidence  in 
their  evidence. 


114  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

addition    of    visible    to    tangible    extension    is    as 
impossible  as  the  addition  of  a  line  to  a  solid. 

Berkeley  is  so  anxious  to  insist  on  the  difference 
between  visible  and  tangible  extension,  that  he 
entirely  overlooks  the  problem  of  their  unity.  For 
Berkeley  visible  and  tangible  extension  are  entirely 
distinct,  and  the  only  connection  between  them  is 
the  arbitrary  tie  of  their  happening  always  to  coexist. 
But  this  is  really  only  the  statement  of  the  problem, 
and  not  its  solution.  The  modern  psychologist 
agrees  with  Berkeley  that  "  the  relation  between 
Ev,  the  extension  of  visible  sensation,  and  Et,  the 
extension  of  tactual  sensation,  apart  from  the  general 
similarity  which  is  implied  in  applying  the  word 
extension  to  both,  consists  merely  in  their  regular 
empirical  conjunction  in  certain  successive  and 
simultaneous  combinations."  l 

But  such  a  view  hardly  does  justice  to  the  fact 
that  there  is  one  extension  which  is  referred  to 
equally  by  tactual  sensations  and  visual  sensations. 
Berkeley  could  not  give  any  adequate  account  of  the 
unity  of  extension,  because  he  did  not  distinguish 
between  our  sensations  and  the  sensible  qualities  of 
objects.  For  him,  the  term  "  idea  "  covers  both 
sensible  quality  and  the  sensation.  Now,  we  may 
point  out  that  while  visual  and  tactual  sensations 
are  entirely  different,  yet  the  visible  and  tangible 
qualities  of  objects  have  a  real  unity.  They  seem 
at  least  to  be  spatially  coincident.  This  would  have 
been  denied  in  toto  by  Berkeley.  In  the  first  place, 
he  would  have  denied  the  possibility  of  separating 

1  G.  F.  Stout,  Some  Fundamental  Points  in  the  Theory  of  Know 
ledge,  p.  29. 


THE  PSYCHOLOGY  OF  VISION  115 

the  mental  sensation  from  the  non-mental  quality. 
In  the  second  place,  he  would  not  have  admitted 
any  spatial  identification  of  visible  and  tangible 
ideas.  So  far  as  the  New  Theory  of  Vision  goes, 
tangible  ideas  may  be  spatially  extended,  but 
visible  ideas,  i.e.  colours,  can  be  only  "  in  the 
mind." 

Berkeley  identifies  tangible  with  real  extension. 
This  is  a  mistake.  As  we  have  seen,  he  regards 
visible  extension  as  apparent,  and  tangible  extension 
as  real.  Apparent  or  visible  extension  merely 
suggests  or  signifies  real  or  tangible  extension.  As 
against  Berkeley  we  must  maintain  that  (a)  real 
extension  is  other  than  tangible  extension,  and  that 
(6)  tangible  extension,  equally  with  visible  extension, 
is  a  sign  of  real  extension,  which  is  not  immediately 
perceived,  but  constructed  out  of  the  data  supplied 
by  sight  and  touch,  plus  a  judgment  or  estimate  of 
the  circumstances,  conditions,  and  relations  in  which 
the  extension  is  apprehended.  Thus  we  may  say 

I  &u 

that  E  =x  \   .  where  E  stands  for  the  real  extension, 
(et 

ev  for  visible  extension,  et  for  tangible  extension, 
and  x  for  the  element  of  judgment  or  estimate 
involved  in  the  mental  construction.  Real  ex- 

(et 

tension  is  the  complex  unity  in  difference  x  -{      which 

(ev 

may  be  signified  equally  by  its  appearance  to  sight 
(ev),  or  its  appearance  to  touch  (et).  Thus  tangible 
extension  is  as  far  from  being  real  extension  as 
visible  extension  is  ;  and,  further,  the  simple  co 
existence  of  tangible  and  visible  extension  is  not 
enough  to  constitute  real  extension.  This  simple 


116  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

coexistence    may    be    represented   as   ^.     But  real 

extension  involves,  in  addition  to  these  sensible  data, 
an  element  of  reflective  estimate  or  judgment,  (x). 


ev 


Berkeley's  view  of  the  relation  might  be  repre 
sented  thus  :  E=et=xev.  Berkeley  believes  that 
we  may  construct  real,  i.e.  tangible,  extension  from 
visual  data.  He  insists  that  this  is  always  an  infer 
ence.  It  always  involves  judgment.  We  cannot 
immediately  perceive  real  extension  by  sight.  So 
far  Berkeley  is  right.  But  he  went  wrong  in 
supposing  that  we  can  perceive  real  extension 
immediately  by  touch.  Our  tactual  experience  does 
not  give  us  immediate  acquaintance  with  real 
extension.  To  know  real  extension  we  require  to 
construct  or  judge  on  the  basis  of  both  tactual  and 
visual  data. 


CHAPTER  IV 

METAPHYSICS  AND  THEORY   OF 
KNOWLEDGE 

I.  THE  POSSIBILITY  OF  KNOWLEDGE 

BERKELEY  believes,  like  Kant,  that  the  desire  for 
knowledge  would  not  be  implanted  in  man  if  the 
satisfaction  of  that  desire  were  for  ever  impossible. 
"  We  should  believe,"  he  says,  "  that  God  has  dealt 
more  bountifully  with  the  sons  of  men  than  to  give 
them  a  strong  desire  for  that  knowledge  which  he 
had  placed  quite  out  of  their  reach."  1  Let  us  not 
depreciate  our  faculties  :  let  us  rather  suspect  the 
use  we  make  of  them.  If  we  are  sceptics,  our 
scepticism  is  self-imposed.  There  is  nothing  in 
reality  to  force  us  into  scepticism.  Knowledge  is 
possible,  but  "  we  have  first  raised  a  dust,  and  then 
complain  we  cannot  see."  2  Now,  Berkeley  believes 
that  this  dust  has  been  raised  partly  by  our  use  of 
language,  but  mainly  by  the  doctrine  of  abstract 
ideas. 

In  order  to  clear  away  this  dust  which  blinds  the 
eyes  of  philosophy,  Berkeley  draws  attention,  in  the 

1  Introduction  to  the  Principles,  §  3.  2  Ibid.  §  3. 

117 


118  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Introduction  to  the  Principles,  to.  (a)  the  ambiguity 
and  unsuitability  of  ordinary  language  as  a  philo^ 
sophical  medium,  and  (b)  the  confusion  caused  in_ 
philosophy  by  the  doctrine  of  abstract  ideas.  With 
regard  to  (a)  nothing  need  be  said :  Berkeley's 
critique  of  language  follows  thrice-familiar  lines. 
But  his  criticism  of  abstract  ideas  is  of  the  first 
importance,  both  for  the  interpretation  of  his  own 
positive  doctrine,  and  on  account  of  the  fundamental 
philosophical  problems  to  which  it  gives  rise.  To 
this,  then,  we  now  turn  our  attention. 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  misapprehension  as  to  the 
precise  nature  of  Berkeley's  criticism  of  abstract 
ideas.  This  misapprehension  is  due  to  a  failure  to 
notice  that  his  criticism  is  really  a  twofold  one. 
Partly  it  is  an  objection,  on  psychological  grounds, 
to  previously  given  accounts  of  the  process  by  which 
abstract  ideas  are  formed  in  individual  experience  ; 
and  partly  it  is  a  metaphysical  examination  of  the 
problem  whether  any  abstract  ideas  at  all  are 
possible.  Berkeley  himself,  it  is  true,  is  not  as 
careful  as  he  ought  to  have  been  to  distinguish  these 
two  lines  of  criticism  ;  but  in  examining  his  argu 
ments  it  is  necessary  to  bear  in  mind  that  there  are 
two  lines. 

Berkeley  first  argues  that  the  received  theory  of 
the  formation  of  abstract  ideas  is  indefensible.  It 
has  been  too  rashly  assumed  that  the  view  which 
Berkeley  states  is  intended  to  represent  Locke's 
theory.  Now,  in  reality,  what  Berkeley  meant  to 
state  and  attack  was  not  exclusively  Locke's  theory, 
but  the  generally  accepted  doctrine,  mainly  a  legacy 
from  Scholasticism,  which  had  been  supported  by 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  lid 

Locke.  The  paragraphs  x  in  which  Berkeley  ex 
pounds  the  theory  of  the  formation  of  abstract  ideas 
which  he  wishes  to  criticise  are  introduced  by  the 
statement  "It  is  agreed  on  all  hands,"  and  Locke 
is  never  referred  to.  It  is  only  later,  when  Berkeley 
is  examining  "  what  can  be  alleged  in  defence  "  of 
the  theory,  that  he  mentions  Locke  as  one  who  has 
given  the  doctrine  of  abstraction  "  very  much 
countenance."  2  His  procedure  is  to  state  and 
criticise  generally  a  theory,  and  then  examine  in 
detail  some  particular  arguments  in  favour  of  such  a 
theory. 

This  view  of  Berkeley's  procedure  is  confirmed  by 
his  rough  draft  of  the  Introduction  to  the  Principles. 
In  that  document  he  points  out  that  he  is  attacking 
the  general  theory,  accepted  by  philosophers,  that 
there  are  "  abstract  ideas  or  general  concejjtions  of 
things,"  3  or  ^_etemal?  immutable,  unr^r8aOd£a&.l!_4 
His  criticism  is  perfectly  general,  and  is  directed 
against  "genera,  species,  universal  notions,  all  which 
amount  to  the, same  thing,"  in  addition  to  what  are 

^^^^•—••^^•••^^^^ "  ^^^^^**^^*^^^^^^^^^^^^mimmm***m**mi^mmm*i^*~***^* 

properly  called  "abstract  ideas."  In  this  rough 
draft,  which  was  written  in  1708,  Berkeley  denied 
entirj3ly_the_  universal  element  in  knowledge.  His 
later  work  was  to  consist  in  a  gradually  increasing 
recognition  of  the  importance  of  the  universal. 

To  return  to  the  Principles.  It  is  clear,  I  think, 
that  Berkeley's  arguments  against  (a)  the  general 
theory  which  he  states  (and  which  he  attributes  to 
nobody  in  particular),  and  (6)  the  particular  argu- 

1  Introduction  to  the  Principles,  §§  7-9. 

2  Introduction  to  the  Principles,  §11. 

3  Draft  of  Introduction,  iii.  359.        *  Ibid.  iii.  370.        6  iii.  360. 


120  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

ments  advanced  by  Locke  in  support  of  such  a  theory, 
are  both  perfectly  sound.  The  general  theory  which 
Berkeley  states  is  neither  a  travesty  nor  a  faithful 
reproduction  of  Locke's  theory,  because  it  pretends 
to  be  neither.  Berkeley's  method  of  argument  is 
astute  almost  to  disingenuousness  ;  but  it  cannot 
fairly  be  charged  aginst  him  that  his  criticism  of 
Locke  in  the  Introduction  to  the  Principles  involves 
an  ignoratio  elenchi. 

Berkeley's  statement  of  the  generally  received 
theory  of  the  process  of  abstraction  runs  as  follows. 
We  start  with  particular  concrete  existing  things. 
These  things  consist  of  a  mixture  of  different 
qualities  or  modes,  which  have  no  individual  and 
independent  existence,  but  only  coexist  along  with 
other  qualities  in  a  particular  thing.  But  the  mind, 
taking  a  particular  coloured,  extended,  moved  thing, 
i.e.  a  particular  thing  having  the  qualities  of  colour, 
extension,  and  motion,  abstracts  these  qualities 
from  one  another,  and  forms  an  abstract  idea  of 
each  by  itself,  as  if  it  actually  existed  by  itself.  Thus 
if  the  .thing  jw_exe  Ted  and  moving  rectilinearly,  the 
mind  would  form  an  abstract  idea  of  red  colour  by 
itself,  and  rectilinear  motion  by  itself.  But  the 
process  of  abstraction  can  be  carried  still  further. 
The  .mind  compares  together  all  its  abstract  ideas  of 
particular  colours,  and  hence  forms  "  a  most  abstract 
idea  "  of  colour  in  general,  neither  red  nor  blue  nor 
any  determinate  colour  whatever.  It  is  possible 
also  to  form  abstract  ideas  of  substances  or  beings, 
by  abstracting  from  the  particularity  of  the  qualities 
which  coexist  in  that  substance.  Thus  the  abstract 
idea  of  a  substance  includes  the  abstract  ideas  of  the 


121 

qualities  which  are  essential  to  it.  The  abstract  idea 
"oTman,  for  instance,  includes  abstract  ideas  of  oolour- 
in-general,  size-in-general,  and  go  orL  ^This  abstract 


Idea  has  beelTmrmed_ by  regarding  particular 
isolating  tlio  qualities  which  they  have  in  common, 
and   then   isolating   the    abstract   nature    of   those 
qualities  from  the  particular  manifestations  in  an 
individual  man. 

To  this  theory  Berkeley  objects,  on  psychological 
grounds  suggested  by  his  own  introspective  analysis, 
that  if  we  follow  such  a  procedure  as  it  presupposes, 
we  shall  obtain,  not  abstract  ideas,  but  concrete 
images^  Berkeley  Ts  quitfe'  ftMp&Eea  to  admit  that 
it  is  possible  to  image  or  represent  in  imagination 
5^hat  has  already  been  perceived.  What  he  denies, 
from  first  to  last,  is  that  such  an  image  is  an  abstract 
idea.  What  we  represent  in  imagination  is  always 
concrete  and  particular.  The  theory  which  Berkeley 
is  attacking  makes  two  assumptions.  It  assumes  v 
(a)  that  in  the^ac^uisition  of  knowledge,  wn  «for+. 
always  and  exclusively  witST  the  particular^  and 
(6)  that  nihil  est  in  inteUectu  quod  non  prius  fuerit  in 
sensu.  Now,  Berkeley  says  in  effect  that  on  these 
assumptions,  and  by  the  method  of  abstraction 
employed,  no  abstract  universal  can  be  reached.  If 
all  our  knowledge  is  derived  from  original  sense  - 
perception  of  particulars,  then  our  knowledge  can 
never  extend  beyond  (a)  immediate  sense-perception 
itself,  and  (6)  representation  in  imagination.  In 
both  these  classes  of  cases  the  object  of  knowledge 
is  a  concrete  fact.  Abstract  ideas  do  not  exist, 
because  logically  the  system  of  knowledge  pre 
supposed  by  this  theory  has  no  place  for  them. 


122  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Thus,  if  universals  are  reached  only  in  the  way  this 

theory  avers,  universals  are  both  psychologically  and 
logically  impossible. 

Berkeley  now  proceeds  to  criticise  two  or  three  of 
Locke's  arguments  in  support  of  such  a  theory  as 
this. 

(1)  Locke  maintained  that  man  is  distinguished 
from    the    brutes   chiefly   by    the   possession   of   the 
faculty  of  abstraction.     Berkeley  denies  this  on  the 
ground  that  neither  man  nor  brute  can  form  an 
abstract  idea.     And  in  any  case,  he  continues,  even 
if  man  could  form  an  abstract  idea,  it  is  imagination 
which   really   differentiates   him   from    the   brutes. 
No   brute   can  imagine.     That  is   man's   exclusive 
prerogative. 

(2)  Locke  held,  in  answer  to  his  own  question, 
"  Since  all  things  that  exist  are  only  particular,  how 
come  we  by  general  terms  ?  ",  that  "  Words  become 
general  by  being  made  the  signs  of  general 


Berkeley  objects  to  this  also.  What  really  happens, 
he  says,  is  that  words  become  general  by  being  used 
to  signify  or  stand  for  particulars.  Berkeley's  point 
is  the  perfectly  sound  ^ne_that^_we  jio_n^tj_jis_a_ 
matter  of  fact,  form  an  abstract  universal  by  abstrac 
tion  from  particulars,  and  then  give  it  a  name.  The 
word  is  made  the  sign,  without  any  intermediary, 
of  a  group  of  particular  things,  any  one  of  which, 
however  they  differ  among  themselves  in  detail,  is 
indicated  by  the  word. 

(3)  Locke  believed  that  by  a  comparison  of  parti 
cular  triangles  it  is  possible  to  frame  the  general  idea 
of  triangle,  which,  though  derived  from  particulars, 
"  must  be  neither  oblique  nor  rectangle,  neither 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  123 

equilateral,  equicrural,  nor  scalenon  ;  but  all  and 
none  of  these  at  once.  ...  It  is  an  idea,  wherein 
some  parts  of  several  different  and  inconsistent  ideas 
are  put  together."  x  Berkeley  maintains,  on  psycho 
logical  grounds,  that  it  is  impossible  that  any  man 
should  come  to  have  such  an  idea.  In  Locke's 
account,  inconsistent  ideas  are  put  together  to  form 
an  abstract  idea,  which,  if  it  be  possible,  is  necessarily 
imperfect,  because  it  is  a  congeries  of  inconsistencies. 
Berkeley  challenges  every  man  to  introspect,  and 
discover  for  himself  whether  he  can  form  an  abstract 
idea  in  any  such  way  as  this  theory  assumes.  To 
this  challenge,  Berkeley  says,  only  one  answer  can 
be  given.  The  formation  of  abstract  ideas  in  this 
way  is  an  impossibility. 

So  far,  Berkeley  has  not  examined  the  general 
question  whether  universals  are  possible  _at__alL 
but  hasjnerely  criticised  tfte  view  tha*  t^nae.  "  rt^f.mn^ 
are  formed  by  abstraction  in  the  manner  premised  ";2 
and  at  every  point,  both  in  his  attack  on  the  theory 
as  a  whole,  and  in  his  detailed  objections  to  Locke's 
arguments  in  support  of  it,  his  criticism  seems  sound 
and  effective.3 

But,  in  addition  to  this  psychological  criticism, 
Berkeley  examines,  on  more  metaphysical  grounds, 
the  question  of  the  possibility  of  universals.  It  is 
often  said,  but  quite  wrongly,  that  in  the  Principles 
Berkeley  denies  altogether  the  existence  of  uni 
versals.  In  reality  he  is  perfectly  willing  to  admit 

1  Quoted  by  Berkeley,  Introduction  to  the  Principles,  §  13. 

2  Introd.  to  the  Principles,  §  15. 

3  A  more  popular  and  less  guarded  re-statement  of  the  criticism 
of  abstract  ideas  was  given  in  Alciphron  (ii.    323  ff.),   but  was 
withdrawn  in  the  third  edition. 


124  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

universals.  "  It  is,  I  know,"  he  says,  "  a  point 
much  insisted  on,  that  all  knowledge  and  demon 
stration  are  about  universal  notions,  to  which  I 
fully  agree."  l  That  universality  is  necessary  for 
knowledge  is  simply  taken  for  granted. 

Now,  it  is  one  thing  to  admit  universals,  but  quite 
another  to  say  wnat  ihey  ftTB.  This  question 
Berkeley  finds  it  very  difficult  to  decide.  One  thing, 
at  any  rate,  they  certainly  are  not.  They  are  not 
abstract  ideas.  On  his  terminology,  an  abstract  idea 
is  a  manifest  contradiction.  For  an  idea,  in  Berkeley's 
view,  is_aj_ways_cpncreje,  being  either  a  concrete. 
particular  thing,  e.g.  this  man,  or  a  concrete  parti 
cular  image,  e.g.  a  mental  picture  of  this  man.  And 
it  is  quite  oBvious  thaf(a)  it  is  impossible  to  perceive 
"  this  man  "  abstractly,  and  (6)  it  is  impossible  to 
form  an  image  of  "  this  man  "  abstractly.  In  other 
words,  since  _,  an,  abstract  idea,  if  it  means_anything, 
must  either  be  an  abstract  concrete  thing  or  an 
abstract  concrete  image,  and  as_  both"  of  these^ 

definitions  involve  the  same  Mmh^LrJirfin  in  adiectn 
it  necessarily  follows  from  Berkeley's  premisses  that 
there  can  be  no  abstract  ideas.  But  in  denying  the 
existence  of  abstract  ideas,  it  must  be  repeated, 
Berkeley  has  not  denied,  nor  does  he  intend  to  deny, 
the  necessity  of  universality. 

There  remain,  after  the  abolition  of  abstract  ideas, 
six  possible  views  of  the  nature  of  universals,  to 
all  of  which  Berkeley  pays  some  attention.  The 
functions  of  universality  in  knowledge  may  be  dis 
charged  by  (1  )  jmrtuvnlar  thJTi^^^ 


1  Introd.  to  the  Principles,  §15.     Cf.  A  Defence  of  Free  -thinking 
in  Mathematics,  §  45  ;   and  Three  Dialogues,  i.  382. 


-'Ystf      i 

THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  125 

images,  or  (3)  jaames*.  or  (4)  meanings,  or  (5)  signs, 
or  (6)  notions. 

Each  of  these  views  of  the  nature  of  universality 
is  considered  by  Berkeley,  or,  it  might  be  truer  to 
say,  they  all  struggle  together  in  his  mind  for 
supremacy.1  Yet,  for  all  their  conflict,  they  do  not 
occur  absolutely  at  haphazard.  A  certain  process  of 
development  may  be  discerned  in  the  order  in  which 
each  in  turn  becomes  prominent  in  his  mind.  That 
development  takes  place  along  two  main  lines  ;  and 
the  relation  of  theory  to  theory  becomes  tolerably 
clear,  if  we  consider  first  (1)  and  (2)  in  close  connec 
tion,  and  then  (3)  and  (4).  In  each  case  we  shall 
find  that  there  is  a  more  or  less  continuous  evolution, 
and  that  the  development  is  roughly  parallel,  so  that, 
starting  with  (1)  and  (3),  i.e.  the  initial  views  in  each 
of  the  two  lines  of  development,  Berkeley  gradually 
arrives  at  (2)  and  (4)  respectively,  and  eventually 
the  process  of  development  culminates  in  (5).2 

It  should,  however,  be  pointed  out  at  the  outset 
that  it  is  idle  to  pretend  that  any  hard  and  fast  lines 
may  be  drawn  between  these  theories,  or  that  we 
can  definitely  and  exclusively  assign  each  view  to 
some  particular  period  in  Berkeley's  mental  history. 
The  possibility  of  doing  that  is  effectually  excluded 

1  The  difficulty  of  discovering  what  precisely  Berkeley's  theory 
is  is  due  partly  to  a  real  confusion  in  his  mind,  and  partly  to  the 
ambiguity  of  the  terms  he  uses.     For  a  man  who  is  always  com 
plaining  of  the  mischief  wrought  by  words,  his  own  terminology 
is  surprisingly  loose.     Thus  he  uses  "  conceive  "  and  "  imagine  "• 
synonymously,   "  idea  "   for  both   "  thing  "  and  "  image,"   and 
so  on. 

2  Theory  (6)  is  what  the  biologists  would  call  a  discontinuous 
variation.     It  occurs  first  in  the  second  edition  of  the  Principles 
(1734),  and  in  the  meantime  we  postpone  our  examination  of  it. 


126  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

by  the  fact  that  four  of  the  views  are  stated  or  at 
least  suggested  in  the  Principles.  But  the  order  in 
which  they  arose  in  Berkeley's  mind  is  certainly  that 
which  we  have  mentioned  ;  and  it  is  also  the  order 
in  which  they  become  prominent  in  his  writings. 

Thus,  in  the  days  of  the  Commonplace  Book 
(1706-8),  the  dominant  theories  are  (1)  and  (3). 
Berkeley  believes,  that  is,  that  the  functions  of 
universals  (he  insists  that  there  are  strictly  no 
universals)  are  performed  by  particular  things  ;  and 
that,  for  certain  purposes  of  reasoning,  the  names 
which  these  particular  things  bear  may  be  of  im 
portance. 

While  both  of  these  views  are  mentioned  in  the 
Principles  (1710),  Berkeley  had  by  that  time  passed 
slightly  beyond  them,  and  the  theories  of  univer 
sality  which  occupy  his  mind  are  now  (2)  and  (4). 
The  functions  of  universality  are  no  longer  performed 
solely  by -the  actual  pariicular  thi^g,  hiiFTathe^  fry 
the  image  of  the  thing.  And  he  also  recognises  that 
his  early  nominalism  must  be  developed  by  insisting 
that  what  is  of  importance  for  reasoning  in  the  name 
is  not  its  mere  nominality  but  its  meaning. 

And  the  most  important  view,  which  we  have 
numbered  (5),  though  it  existed  in  a  nascent  form 
in  the  Principles,  was  not  actually  developed  till 
1732-1733.  In  Akiphron  (1732)  and  The  Theory  of 
Vision  Vindicated  (1733)  the  theory  of  universals  as 
signs  is  most  fully  developed.  We  now  regard  the 
particular  tiling  or  its  image  not  in  themselves  but  as 
signs,  and  on  the  basis  of  these  signs  we  reason. 

Bearing  in  mind  that  the  distinctions  which  we 
have  drawn  are  merely  relative  and  approximate, 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  127 

we  now  proceed  to  explain,  in  greater  detail,  the 
nature  of  the  views  which  successively  occupied 
Berkeley's  mind. 

(1)  According  to  the  first  theory,  particular  things 
perform  the  functions  of  universality  by  standing  . 
for  or  representing  all  other  particular  things  of  the 
same  kind.  To  make  this  clear,  Berkeley  uses 
several  examples  taken  mostly  from  mathematics. 
Suppose  a  geometrician  is  demonstrating  the  method 
of  cutting^  line  into  two  equal  parts.  For  the  pur 
poses  of  his  proof  he  first  draws  a  black  line  an  inch 
in  length.  This  is  a  particular  concrete  line.  But 
the  proof  demonstrated  with  reference  to  this  parti 
cular  line  will  be  true  of  all  particular  lines  of  the 
same  kind,,  because  the  particular  line,  as  it  is  used 
in  this  proof,  stands  for  or  represents  all  particular ... 
lines  of  the  same  kind.1 

But  every  instance  of  a  particular  performing  the 
functions  of~umversaTrEy  Is  not  so  simple  as  this.\X/ 
Suppose,  for  example,  that  in  proving  the  theorem 
which  says  that  the  interior  angles  of  a  triangle  are 

together  finna.1  t.n  two  ricrhf.  angles,  the  figure  which 

— "•*——     •      »  *  *          °  o 

we  actually  have  on  the  paper  in  front  of  us  is  an 
isosceles  right-angled  triangle.  What  justification 
have  we  for  taking  this  particular  triangle,  of  a 
peculiar  type,  to  represent  all  other  triangles  ? 
Berkeley  answers  that  while  it  is  true  that  the 
diagram  which  we  have  in  view  in  such  a  case  does 
^inolude_pardcular  features  (the  right  angle  and  the 
equality  of  the  two  sides)  which  are  not  common  to 
all  triangles,  yet  the  conclusions  reached  with  regard, 
to  the  diagram  are  true"oTaHlfflier  triangles^ 

itroduction  to  the  Principles,  §  12, 


128 

in  our  proof  we  made  no  mention  of  the  peculiar 
features  of  the  triangle,  but  used  only  those  charac 
teristics  which  are  common  to  all.  triangles.  The 
actually  drawn  triangle  is  considered  with  regard  to 
the  purpose  for  which  it  is  being  used,  and  whereas 
in  one  case  the  right  angle  may  be  of  no  significance, 
in  other  instances,  e.g.  in  the  proof  of  the  Pythagorean 
theorem,  it  is  essential.1  The  particular  line  or 
triangle  performs  the  functions  of  universality,  and, 
though  still  remaining  particular,  may  be  reasoned 
upon  and  give  rise  to  general  conclusions,  by  being 
regarded  as  a  type-case,  i.e.  an  instance  of  a  class  of 
lines  or  triangles. 

(2)  But  we  do  not  always  have  a  concrete  type- 
case  before  the  mind.  In  simple  mathematical 
demonstration  it  is  possible  to  do  without  an  actually 
drawrn  figure.  ^Ve  may  simply~lmagine  rE.  TEe^ 
actual  figure  is  a  picture  drawn  on  paper,  the 
imagined  diagram  is  a  picture  in  the  mind.  In  such 
a  demonstration  a  previously  drawn  figure,  or  some 
combination  of  previously  drawn  figures,  is  repre 
sented  in  imagination^;  and  the  type-case  which  we 
now  use  is  not  the  actually  drawn  figure  but  the 
mental  image  of  it.  The^  image  is  itsglfji  particular 
concrete  existent,  which  stands  for  or  represents  all 
particular  things  of  the  same  type  as-the  -particular 

1  Of  course  the  question  arises,  What  right  do  we  have  to 
abstract  in  this  way  ?  The  very  fact  that  we  can  consider  the 
particular  with  reference  to  a  purpose  or  class  of  purposes  shows 
that  it  is  not  a  bare  particular.  In  the  second  edition  of  the 
Principles  Berkeley  notices  the  difficulty.  "  It  must  be 
acknowledged,"  he  says,  "  that  a  man  may  consider  a  figure 
merely  as  triangular,  without  attending  to  the  particular  qualities 
of  the  angles  or  relations  of  the  sides.  So  far  he  may  abstract.'" 
(Introd.  to  Principles,  §  16.) 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  129 

thing  of  which  it  is  an  image.  Thus  the  image  is,  in 
regard  to  the  discharge  of  its  functions  of  universality, 
doubly  representative.  It  represents  a  particular 
thing  which  in  turn  represents  the  class  of  things  of 
its  type. 

Thus  the  particular,  whether  thing  or  image, 
"  becomes  general,"  or  rather,  for  the  purposes  of 
reasoning  discharges  the  functions  of  uuiversals, 
by  being-  considered  as  a  type-case.  The  two 
different  views  should  be  regarded,  not  as  mutually 
contradictory,  but  as  to  some  extent  complementary  ; 
and  they  are,  in  fact,  both  comprehended  in  one  of 
Berkeley's  general  formulae  :  "  An  idea,  which  con 
sidered  in  itself  is  particular,  becomes  general,  by 
being  made  to  represent  or  stand  for  all  other 
particular  ideas  of  the  same  sort."  l  And,  since  idea 
for  Berkeley  may  mean  either  (a)  a  particular.ihing, 
or  (6)  a  particular  image,  this  formula  covers  both 
views  (1)  and  (2).  /^u£& 

(3)  Along  parallel,  but  significantly 
Berkeley  develops  another  theory  of  universality. 
tlmversality  may  be  considered  to  i>elong1  not  to  the 
actual  particular  things,  but  to  the  name^  whinh 
designate  them.  Thus,  instead  of  saying  that  we 
reason  on  an  actually  drawn  particular  triangle,  we 
may  say  alternatively  that  we  reason  on  the  name. 
triangle,  and~that  it  is  nothing  but  this  name  that 
ye  have  in  view  when  we  enunciate  general  propofli- 
tions  about  the  angles  of  a  triangle.  This  extreme 
iJominahsm  is  prfffninAnt"  in  tViPi  Cnmmfmplace  Book^ 
but  in  the  Principles  it  has  been  almost  aban 
doned,  or  rather,  its  implications  have  been  so 

*  Introd,  to  Principles,  §  12. 
B.P,  X 


'T 

130  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

fully  developed   that    little  of  the   original  theory 
remains.1 

The  plausibility  of  the  crude  nominalist  view  rests 
on  the  apparent^jjbejTninateness  and  universality 
of  names.  A  name  seems  to  have  a  regular  and 
uniform  signification  admirably  fitted  to  perform  the 
functions  of  universality.  But,  after  having  been 
attracted  by  these  characteristics  of  the  name, 
Berkeley  gradually  comes  to  the  conclusion  that  they 
are  largely  illusory.  In  the  Introduction  to  the 
Principles  he  declares  roundly,  "  There  is  no  such 
thing  as  one  precise  and  definite  signification  annexed 
to  any  general  name."  2  He  believed  that  the 
ambiguity  and  inrl^|fin1triPrn8  °f  Tyoyds  is  a  chief 
source  of  the  unsatisfactory  state  of  philosophy.  If 
then,  he  concluded,  words  are  so  indeterminate7they 
cannot  be  fitted  to  H«yAharge  the  duties  of  universals. 


But  though  the  extreme  nominalist  view  was,  in  the 
end,  entirely  rejected  by  Berkeley,  it  paved  the  way 
for  a  more  adequate  conception  of  universality. 
(4)  The  attractiveness  of  nominalism  was 


the  belief  that  names  supply  us  with  universally  true_ 
meanings.  That  belief  having  been  shown  to  be 
false,  why  not  simply  say  (omitting  all  reference  to 
names)  that  the  meaning  itself  is  the  universal  ? 
Berkeley  insists,  though  perhaps  without  seeing  the 
full  implication  of  his  words,  that  what  is  important 
is  the  meaning  or  signification.  A  particular  can 
stand  for  or  represent  other  particulars,  because  all 
have  the  same  meaning.3  It  is  the  meaning,  the 
identical  reference,  that  supplies  the  element  of 

1  Cf.  Introd.  to  the  Principles,  §§  18-23.  2  §  18. 

3  Introd.  to  the  Principles,  §  1  2. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  131 

universality.1  Berkeley  points  out  that  when  we 
consider  the  meaning  of  a  thing,  we  do  abstract  ;  but 
this  kind  of  abstraction,  he  says,  is  admissible.  Thus, 
there  is,  after  all,  a  universal  "  triangularity,"  for  it 
is  a  meaning  which  omits  all  reference  to  the  parti 
cular  qualities  of  the  angles  or  relations  of  the  sides.2 

(5)  These  two  lines  of  thought,  viz.  that  developed 
in  (1)  and  (2)  according  to  which  we  reason  on  a 
concrete  type-case,  and  that  evolved  in  (3)  arid  (4), 
which  says  that  we  reason  on  a  universal  meaning, 
are  both  wrought  together  into  some  semblance  of 
coherence  in  a  theory  which,  though  adumbrated  in 
the  New  Theory  of  Vision  and  the  Principles,  was  not 
expounded  by  Berkeley  till  his  Philosophy  of  Signs 
was  developed  in  Alciphron.  The  general  bond  of 
connection  between  the  views  is  that  they  all  imply 
in  some  degree  a  theory  of  representative  knowledge. 

The  concrete  type-case  is,  as  we  have  seen,  either 
immediately  representative  (if  such  a  collocation  of 
terms  is  permissible),  or  mediately  representative. 
In  other  words,  the  type-case  may  represent  other 
?ases  either  at  first-hand  or  at  second-hand.  Again, 
the  name  with  its  meaning  owes  its  importance  in  the 
theory  of  knowledge  to  its  representative  function. 
Though,  unlike  the  particular  thing  or  the  mental 
image,  it  gives  us  no  picture  of  the  thing  represented, 
it  does  represent,  by  standing  for  and  signifying,  all 
things  bearing  the  same  name.  In  one  aspect, 
indeed,  the  name  is  representative  at  third-hand  ; 
for  it  may  be  regarded,  as  it  sometimes  is  by  Berkeley, 
as  representing  the  mental  image  which  represents 
the  particular  thing  which  represents  the  type  or 

1  Introd.  to  the  Principles,  §  15.  2  Ibid.  §  16. 


132  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

class  of  which  it  is  a  member.  But  such  a  trebly- 
mediated  relation  between  the  name  and  the  class  of 
things  it  represents  is  not  necessary.  If  we  say,  as 
Berkeley  in  his  better  moments  does,  that  what  is 
important  in  the  name  is  its  universal  meaning,  then 
we  may  state  directly  that  the  name  is  the  meaning 
:of  the  class  of  things  to  which  it  is  applied  as  a 
name. 

This  represejitative  function  of  knowledge  is 
developed  in  Berkeley's  theory  of  signs.  The 
particular  thing,  the  image,  the  name^  ancT  the 
meaning  may  all  be  included,  under  certain  circum 
stances,  and  so  far  as  their  importance  in  connection 
with  universality  is  concerned,  under  the  general 
category  of  signs.  Of  the  vital  importance  of  the 
conception  of  signs  in  Berkeley's  philosophy  we  shall 
speak  in  detail  later  ;  it  is  enough,  in  the  meantime, 
to  say  that  the  characteristic  of  signs  which  peculiarly 
fits  them,  in  Berkeley's  estimation,  to  play  the  part 
of  universals,  is  their  identical  reference.  The 

m^g-riOg-O*   a    sig™    i«  fiyftd    dogTna.tip.fllly  ;    jf  jf.  jgj^_ 

true  sign  it  will  be  understood  in  prc.ui^ely  tho_. 
same  sense  by  all  who  have  occasion  to  use  it, 
and  thus  it  is  admirably  adapted  fn  anpply  t.hft 
medium  of  reasoning  and  demonstration.  Berkeley 
is  so  convinced  of  the  merits  of  this  epistemological 
doctrine  of  representation  by  signs,  that  he  states 
roundly  that  all  universal  knowledge  depends  on 
demonstration  by  representative  signs.  "  If  I  mis 
take  not,  all  sciences,  so  far  as  they  are  universal  and 
demonstrable  by  human  reason,  will  be  found  con 
versant  about  signs  as  their  immediate  object,"  l 

1  Alciphron,  vii.  §  13, 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  133 

This  theory  of  representation  is,  as  we  have 
mentioned,  present,  at  least  in  germ,  in  all  that 
Berkeley  writes  on  the  question  of  universality.  We 
must  now  submit  it  to  criticism,  and  show  that,  so 
far  from  providing  any  real  solution  of  the  problem 
of  universality,  it  succeeds  only  in  throwing  into 
relief  the  great  difficulties  inherent  in  it.  With  a 
view  to  making  this  clear,  let  us  examine  a  little 
more  closely  what  Berkeley  says  and  does  not  say. 

(a)  In  the  first  place,  it  must  be  pointed  out  that 
Berkeley  does  not  attempt  any  critical  scrutiny  of 
the  notion  of  "representation.  What  exactly  he 
means  by  representing  or  standing  for  he  does  not 
explain.  And  it  results  from  this  lack  of  definition, 
as  one  consequence,  that  he  uses  indifferently  repre 
sentatives  of  different  status.  The  Representative, 
aa  we  have  seen,  may  be  either  a  partionlflr  thing,  or 
a  particular  image,  or  a  word,  or  a  meaning.  Now, 
the  status  of  these  representatives  with  respect  to 
r  ^hat  they  represent  is  not  uniform.  What  is  repre 
sented  is  always  a  particular  thing  or  a  class  of 
particular  things.  When  the  representative  is  also 
a  particular  thing,  the  status  of  both  is,  of  course, 
the  same.  But  in  all  other  cases  of  representation 
the  status  of  sign  and  thing  signified  differs  in 
greater  or  less  degree.  The  image  is  representative 
at  second-hand,  since  it  reallv_reprfisents  first  the 
particular  tiling^  and  th^nga  frfl  nther  pftffcjnnbi.r 
things  of  the  same  kind  ;  the  word  at  third.-handr- 
and  so  on.  Or  we  may  say,  varying  the  termin 
ology,  that  the  particular  thing  is  a  representative 
of  the  first  degree,  the  image  a  representative  of 
tlta  second  degree,  and  so  on. 


134  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

In  Berkeley's  earlier  theory  the  predominant  form 
of  representation  is  that  of  the  first  degree,  but  in  his 
later  work  representation  of  the  third  degree  is  the 
typical  form  of  relation.  Between  these  two  forms 
of  relation  there  is  an  important  logical  difference, 
to  which,  however,  he  never  draws  attention.  Repre 
sentation  of  the  first  degree  is  necessarily  a  sym 
metrical  relation,  representation  of  greater  degrees 
is  properly  asymmetrical.  A  relation  is  called 
symmetrical,  when  if  it  holds  between  A  and  B,  it 
also  holds  between  B  and  A.  Thus  the  relation  of 
equality  is  symmetrical,  because  if  A  is  equal  to  B, 
B  is  also  equal  to  A.  But  some  relations  are  not 
symmetrical,  the  relation,  for  instance,  of  greater 
than.  If  A  is  greater  than  B,  B  cannot  be  greater 
than  A.  Such  relations  we  will  call  asymmetrical.1 

If  we  apply  this  distinction  to  the  question  of 
representation,  it  is  clear  that,  when  the  represen 
tative  is  a  particular  thing,  the  relation  it  bears  to 
the  particular  things  it  represents  is  symmetrical. 
Any  particular  thing  it  represents  may  also  be  taken 
to  represent  it.  The  representative  function  it 
performs  might  equally  well  have  been  performed 
by  any  one  of  the  indefinitely  numerous  things  it 
represents.  If  A  represents  B,  then  B  represents  A. 
But  when  the  representative  is  a  name  or  an  image, 
its  relation  to  the  things  it  signifies  is  asymmetrical. 
The  name  dog  represents  or  stands  for  all  actually 
existent  dogs,  but  we  cannot  strictly  say  that  an 
actually  existent  dog  represents  or  stands  for  the 

1  This  distinction  was  suggested  by,  but  is  not  identical  with, 
that  of  Mr.  Russell.  (Our  Knowledge,  of  the  External  World,  pp.  47 
and  124.) 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  135 

name  dog.  Similarly,  the  mental  image  of  the  dog 
represents  the  actually  existing  dog,  but  the  actually 
existing  dog  cannot  properly  be  said  to  represent  the 
mental  image  of  it.  In  these  cases  A  represents  B, 
but  B  does  not  represent  A. 

The  importance  of  this  distinction  is  entirely 
overlooked  by  Berkeley.  Yet  his  instincts  led  him 
aright,  for,  while  he  gathered  together  his  earlier 
lines  of  thought  in  his  doctrine  of  signs,  he  allowed 
what  we  have  called  representation  of  the  first  degree 
(which  was  at  first,  in  his  view,  all-important)  to 
slide  into  the  background  ;  and  in  the  latest  form 
of  his  theory  representation  is  entirely  performed  by 
signs  having  a  status  differing  from  that  of  the  things 
which  they  signify,  and  therefore  related  to  them 
asymmetrically.  And  this  seems  to  be  the  only 
proper  sense  in  which  to  use  representation.  When 
we  speak  of  representation  in  common  parlance,  it 
seems  to  be  always  the  case  that  (a)  the  status  of  the 
representative  differs  from  that  of  the  person  or 
thing  represented,  and  (6)  the  relation  between  them 
is  asymmetrical.  We  speak,  for  instance,  of  an 
ambassador  being  representative  of  a  king,  a  lawyer 
representative  of  his  client,  a  commercial  traveller 
representative  of  his  firm,  and  so  on.  In  all  these 
cases  the  representative  differs  in  status  from  the 
person  or  persons  he  represents  ;  and  in  no  case  is 
the  relation  between  them  symmetrical,  for  the  king 
does  not  represent  the  ambassador,  nor  the  client 
his  lawyer.  And  we  may  say  that  the  conception 
of  representation  seems  properly  applicable  only  in 
cases  in  which  these  two  characteristics  are  present, 
only,  that  is,  when  (a)  the  representative  differs  in 


136  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

status  from  what  is  represented,  and  (b)  the  relation 
between  them  is  asymmetrical.  Now,  these  de 
siderata  occur  only  in  the  case  of  representation  by 
signs  of  the  second  or  any  higher  degree.  A  name, 
or  image,  or  algebraic  symbol  differs  in  status  from 
what  it  stands  for,  and  the  relation  which  it  bears  to 
the  object  represented  is  asymmetrical.  And  this 
is  the  theory  of  representation  implied  in  Berkeley's 
later  doctrine  of  signs. 

But  it  should  be  noticed — the  point  is  important — 
that  there  is  even  a  sense  in  which  Berkeley's  earlier 
theory  of  the  mutual  representability  of  particulars 
is  valid.  Under  certain  conditions  representation 
is  possible  even  though  (a)  the  status  of  represen 
tative  and  object  represented  is  the  same,  and  (6)  the 
relation  between  them  is  symmetrical.  Cabinet 
ministers,  for  instance,  may  agree  that  one  should 
represent  another,  e.g.  at  Question-time  in  the  House  ; 
and  the  partners  in  a  large  firm  may,  for  certain 
purposes,  represent  one  another  in  the  transaction 
of  the  firm's  business.  In  such  cases  there  is  real 
representation,  though  neither  of  the  conditions  we 
originally  laid  down  are  observed.  Similarly,  it  may 
be  urged,  we  are  justified,  under  certain  conditions, 
and  for  certain  purposes,  in  regarding  a  particular 
thing  as  the  representative  of  other  particular  things, 
any  one  of  which  might  equally  well  be  regarded  as 
its  representative.  And  so  we  may. 

It  should,  however,  be  noted,  and  here  we  come 
to  the  important  point,  that  such  representation  is 
possible  only  under  certain  circumstances  and  for 
certain  purposes.  Cabinet  ministers  and  partners  in 
a  firm  may  represent  one  another  only  under  the 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  137 

conditions  imposed  by  their  office  and  in  accord 
ance  with  the  purposes  of  their  common  work.  In 
other  words,  they  perform  mutually  representative 
functions  only  because  they  are  not  isolated  parti 
culars.  Cabinet  ministers  are  officially  committed 
to  the  same  policy,  and  partners  represent  one 
another  in  so  far  as  they  are  related  by  the  common 
interests  of  the  firm  to  which  they  belong.  It  is 
this  fact  of  prior  relatedness  that  enables  them  to 
represent  one  another.  They  can  do  it,  because  they 
are  not  barely  particular.  They  already  form  some 
sort  of  unity  that  is  more  than  a  mere  aggregate  of 
isolated  units,  and  it  is  only  because  they  are  thus 
related  that  they  are  able  to  perform  representative 
functions.  Thus  the  conclusion  to  which  Berkeley 
would  be  forced,  along  this  line  of  argument,  is  that 
particulars  can  perform,  by  representative  operation, 
the  offices  of  universals  only  because  they  are  not 
mere  particulars,  but  are  already  related  by  some 
bond. 

(6)  This  conclusion  may  also  be  reached,  along 
another  Hue  of  criticism,  by  drawing  attention  to  a 
persistent  ambiguity  which  runs  through  the  whole 
of  Berkeley's  theory  of  representation.  As  we 
pointed  out  in  tracing  the  evolution  of  his  view,  the 
development  proceeds  on  two  parallel  lines.  But 
these  lines  are  not  kept  rigorously  distinct  by  him  ; 
and,  in  the  end,  he  tries  to  bring  them  together  in 
his  developed  theory  of  signs.  Now,  there  is,  though 
Berkeley  does  not  seem  to  notice  it,  a  most  important 
logical  difference  between  the  conception  of  sign 
looked  at  from  the  standpoint  of  the  first  line  of 
argument  and  the  conception  which  we  find  to  be 


138  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

implied  in  the  second.  In  the  first  case  the  sign 
must  be  regarded  in  denotation  in  the  second  in 
connotation.  We  consider  in  the  first  case  the 
extension  of  the  sign,  in  the  latter  its  intension.1 

If  we  take  as  a  sign  a  particular  thing  or  image, 
then  we  read  it  in  denotation.  The  extension  of  the 
sign  is  in  these  cases  the  important  thing.  It 
represents,  Berkeley  holds,  an  indefinite  number  of 
other  things  of  the  same  kind.  Names  also  are 
regarded  by  Berkeley  mainly  in  denotation.  They 
are  useful  as  signs  because  they  stand  for  all  the 
particular  things  that  bear  the  same  name.  But 
when  we  insist  on  the  meaning  of  the  name,  as 
Berkeley  sometimes  does,  our  interest  shifts  to  its 
connotation  or  intension.  What  is  now  important 
in  the  sign  is  not  the  particular  things  it  signifies,  but 
the  qualities  connoted  by  it,  in  virtue  of  which  it  is 
able  to  denote  particular  things.  It  is  only  because 
these  qualities  are  connoted  that  the  thing  is  able 
to  signify  all  things  of  a  similar  kind.  The  very 
conception  of  similarity  implies  the  recognition  of 
the  common  qualities  in  virtue  of  which  things  are 
similar.  Thus,  it  is  only  because  the  sign  does 
involve  this  connotative  aspect,  only  because  it 
already  possesses  universality,  that  it  is  able  to 
represent  at  all.  A  sign,  then,  we  conclude,  is  fitted 
to  fulfil  the  functions  of  universality,  because  it  is 
not  merely  a  particular  which  calls  up  by  association 
other  bare  particulars,  but  is  already  in  virtue  of 
the  qualities  it  connotes  universal  in  meaning  or 
intension. 

1  Cf.  E.  G.  Husserl,  Logische  Untersuchungen,  ii.  178ff.  ;  and 
E.  Cassirer,  Erkenntnisproblem,  ii.  221  ff. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  139 

(c)  This  conclusion,  reached  along  two  slightly 
different  but  convergent  lines  of  criticism,  implies 
that  Berkeley's  sensationalism  forms  an  inadequate 
basis  for  the  theory  of  signs.  In  a  bare  sensationalism 
the  only  possible  relation  is  that  of  association. 
Things  naturally,  in  virtue  of  being  constantly 
associated  in  our  experience,  suggest  other  things 
and  are  suggested  by  them.  But  though  the  theory 
of  signs  begins  in  this  associationism,  it  passes  beyond 
it.  For  it  involves  mental  operations  which  differ 
in  kind  and  principle  from  mere  sense -perception.1 
In  sense -perception  we  are  immediately  aware  of  a 
succession  of  particulars,  but  this  mere  aggregate 
will  never  give  the  universal  meaning  which  enables 
us  to  use  any  one  particular  to  stand  for  others  of  the 
same  kind.  Further,  in  using  a  particular  to  serve 
as  a  sign  we  do  not  take  it  simply  at  its  face-value 
with  all  the  features  which  we  observe  it  to  possess. 
Before  we  can  use  it  as  a  sign  we  must  have  some 
acquaintance  with  the  purpose  it  is  to  serve  and  the 
thing  it  is  to  signify.  Thus,  when  we  use  it  as  a 
sign,  we  perform  certain  mental  operations  upon  it. 
Suppose — to  take  Berkeley's  example — we  are  using 
an  isosceles  right-angled  triangle  as  our  sign.  If  we 
are  using  it  to  prove  the  truth  of  the  proposition  that 
the  interior  angles  of  a  triangle  are  together  equal 
to  two  right  angles,  then  we  abstract  from  it  its 
qualities  of  being  isosceles  and  right-angled,  for  these 
are  irrelevant  to  the  purpose  we  have  in  view  ;  but 
if  we  are  using  it  to  prove  the  Pythagorean  theorem, 
its  right  angle  is  relevant  to  our  purpose,  but  we  may 

1  Cf.   Berkeley's  distinction  between  suggestion  and  inference. 
(Theory  of  Vision  Vindicated,  §  42.) 


140  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

abstract  the  equality  of  its  two  sides  ;  and  so  on. 
In  each  case  it  can  be  used  as  a  sign  only  because  the 
mind  is  able  to  operate  upon  it,  and  thus  by  means 
of  abstraction,  selection,  and  other  processes,  fit  it 
to  play  the  role  of  a  sign. 

Now,  in  a  barely  sensationalist  philosophy  such 
mental  operations  could  have  no  place.  Berkeley 
is  aware  of  this.  But  he  never  attempts  to  justify  us 
in  the  exercise  of  the  right  thus  to  abstract,  appar 
ently  arbitrarily  and  even  capriciously,  certain 
elements  from  the  particulars  of  whose  existence 
sense-perception  assures  us.  It  is  clear  that,  in  this 
process  of  abstraction,  sense-perception  is  actually 
overridden  by  the  activity  of  the  mind.  If  esse  is 
percipi,  then  the  triangle  that  I  perceive  to  be  an 
isosceles  right-angled  triangle  is  an  isosceles  right- 
angled  triangle.  But  Berkeley  says  that  it  is 
possible  to  abstract  by  mental  operations  these 
qualities  of  the  triangle,  so  that,  although  as  per 
ceived  it  is  an  isosceles  right-angled  triangle,  yet  as 
conceived  it  is  simply  a  triangle.  Thus,  what  is  really 
used  as  a  sign  is  not  the  triangle  as  perceived  but  the 
triangle  as  conceived.  And,  in  general,  we  may  say 
that  words,  images,  and  mathematical  symbols  could 
not  discharge  their  functions  as  signs  were  it  not  for 
the  active  operation  of  the  mind,  which  by  consider 
ing  their  meaning  and  regarding  them  conceptually 
enables  them  to  be  used  as  universals  in  reasoning. 

Our  general  conclusion,  then,  is  that  the  doctrine 
of  representative  knowledge,  originating  in  a  bare 
sensationalism,  is  seen  in  the  end,  by  a  perfectly 
necessary  logical  development,  to  imply,  as  the  con 
dition  of  its  validity,  a  system  of  mental  operations. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  141 

This  conclusion  was  probably  reached  by  Berkeley, 
at  least  in  a  subconscious  kind  of  way,  when  he 
published  the  second  edition  of  the  Principles  in 
1734.  There  he  maintains  that,  in  using  a  particular 
thing  as  a  sign,  it  is  possible  to  abstract  from  it  the 
features  which  are  irrelevant  to  the  purpose  for 
which  it  is  being  employed  ;  and  though  he  is  not 
aware  of  all  the  implications  of  this  momentous 
admission,  he  at  least  realises  perhaps  the  most 
important  element  of  its  meaning,  viz.  that  the  use 
of  signs  implies  the  exercise  of  mental  operations 
distinct  from  sense-perception.  Closely  connected 
with  this  admission,  and  also  appearing  for  the  first 
time  in  the  second  edition  of  the  Principles,  is 
Berkeley's  doctrine  of  universals  as  notions.  This  is 
the  sixth  possible  theory  of  universals  mentioned  by 
Berkeley. 

(6)  So  far,  on  all  the  views  which  have  been  con 
sidered,  the  functions  of  universality  have  been 
performed  by  elements  originally  acquired  in  sense- 
perception.  But  Berkeley  came  to  see  that  know- 1 
ledge  is  incomplete  without  the  conceptual  element,  i 
It  was  in  order  to  supply  this  that  he  developed, 
though  very  imperfectly,  the  doctrine  of  notions. 
Now,  as  notions  are  concerned  more  particularly 
with  the  knowledge  of  a  special  class  of  objects,  it 
will  be  convenient  to  give  an  account  of  them 
in  connection  with  Berkeley's  general  theory  of 
Knowledge  and  its  Objects.  It  is  to  that  that  we 
now  pass. 


142  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

II.  KNOWLEDGE  AND  ITS  OBJECTS. 

So  far,  in  our  examination  of  Berkeley's  theory  of 
knowledge,  we  have  been  concerned  only  with  his 
criticism  of  abstract  ideas,  and  with  his  own  positive 
views  on  universality  in  knowledge.  In  dealing  with 
this  aspect  of  knowledge  first,  we  have  been  following 
Berkeley's  lead,  for  it  forms  the  subject-matter  of  the 
Introduction  to  the  Principles.  To  the  argument  of 
the  Principles  itself  we  must  now  proceed. 

We  have  now  to  consider  knowledge  under  a 
different  aspect  from  that  which  has  been  engaging 
our  attention.  Sofar^  we  have  not  explicitly  taken 
into  account  theTnature  of  the  objects  of.  knowledge  ; 
buVtEis^tandpoint  is  one  which  cannot  be  ignored, 
and  consequently,  in  the  Principles,  Berkeley  regards 
knowledge  in  connection  priT^rily  with  its  r^M^n 
to  its  objects.  Thus,  it  is  with  regard  to  its  objects? 
that  he  distinguishes  knowledge  into  two  kinds. 
"  Human  knowledge,"  fre  gays.  "  may  naturally  be 
reduced  to  two  heads,  that  of  ideas  and  that  of 
spirits."  l  Knowledge  of  ideas  is  by  way  of  either 
sense-perception  or  imagination,  knowledge  of  spirits 
is  by  way  of  notions.  But  in  each  case  knowledge 
'is  direct.  The  cognitive  relation  of  the  mind  and 
I  its  objects,  whether  presentative  or  notional, 


immediate.  And  this  is  the  second  respect  in  which 
the  theory  of  knowledge,  as  we  are  now  to  consider 
it,  differs  from  the  doctrine  of  representative  know 
ledge  by  signs  with  which  we  were  concerned  in  the 
last  section.  That  ^ras  indirect,  this  is  direc 


Knowledge,   then,   from    the    standpoint    of    its 

1  Principles,  §  86. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  143 

objects,  is  of  two  kinds,  perceptual  and  imaginative 
acquaintance  with  ideas,  and  notional  or  conceptual 
acquaintance  with  ^pirits.  We  shall  explain  and 
examine  first  Berkeley's  theory  of  knowledge  of  ideas, 
and  then  his  suggestions  towards  a  doctrine  of  the 
knowledge  of  spirits. 

First,  of  knowledge  of  ideas.  At  the  very  outset, 
before  we  can  advance,  it  is  necessary  to  rescue  his 
theory  of  knowledge  of  ideas  from  a  grave  and 
common  misrepresentation,  for  which,  it  must  be 
admitted,  his  own  awkwardness  of  expression  is 
largely  to  blame. 

The  generally  accepted  interpretation  of  Berkeley's 
view  makes  him  enumerate  three  classes  of  ideas,  viz. 
ideas  of  sensation,  ideas  of  reflection,  i.e.  those 
obtained  by  attending  to  the  operations  and  passions 
of  the  mind,  and  mental  images.  It  has  always  been 
assumed  that  this  is  the  meaning  of  the  first  sentence 
in  the  Principles.  But  a  careful  examination  of  the 
sentence  will  show,  I  think,  that  it  does  not  mean 
what  it  is  commonly  taken  to  mean  ;  at  any  rate, 
the  generally  accepted  interpretation  can  readily  be 
shown  to  be  unnecessary,  and  a  comparison  of  it  with 
the  whole  tenor  of  the  Principles  proves  that  it  is  not 
the  meaning  that  Berkeley  himself  intended.  The 
sentence  in  question  runs  thus  :  "  It  is  evident  to 
anyone  who  takes  a  survey  of  the  objects  of  human 
knowledge,  that  they  are  either  iHeas~j;cjuaIly  "_im^_ 
pHntejjTori  the~senses  ;  or  else  such  as  are  perceived 
by  attending-  to-tli&  jpassions  and  operations  of  ihe 
mmctT'or,  lastly,  ideas  formed  by  help  of  memory 
and  imagination."  1 

1  Principles,  §  1. 


144  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

With  regard  to  the  meaning  of  the  first  and  third 
clauses  of  this  sentence  there  can  be  no  doubt. 
Berkeley  tells  us,  that  is,  that  among  the  objects  of 
human  knowledge  are  included  (CT)__"  ideas  imprinted 
on  the  senses,"  and  (6)  ' '  ideas  formed  by  Jielp  of 
memory  and  imagination/^  So  far  all  is  clear.  It 
is  with  regard  to  the  meaning  of  the  second  clause 
that  misapprehension  is,  as  far  as  I  am  aware,  uni 
versal.  It  is  assumed  by  commentators  on  Berkeley 
that  the  second  class  of  objects  of  knowledge  is  a 
class  of  ideas,  i.e.  ideas  perceived  by  attending  to  the 
passions  and  operations  of  the  mind.  Now,  this 
interpretation  can  be  shown  to  be  erroneous  both 
grammatically  and  philosophically. 

Grammatically,  the  antecedent  of  the  relative 
pronoun  "  such  "  is  not  "  ideas  "  but  "  objects  of 
knowledge."  It  would,  indeed,  be  possible  to  make 
out  a  case  by  special  pleading  for  taking  "  ideas  "  as 
the  antecedent  of  "  such,"  but,  since  the  three 
clauses  in  which  classes  of  objects  of  human  know 
ledge  are  being  enumerated  are  coordinate,  the 
proper  construction  is  to  take  "  such  "  to  refer  not 
to  any  term  in  one  of  the  coordinate  clauses,  but  to 
the  term  "  objects  of  knowledge  "  to  which  all  the 
three  coordinate  clauses  are  subordinate.  What 
Berkeley  really  says  is  that  the  objects  of  human 
knowledge  include,  in  addition  to  the  two  classes  of 
ideas  already  mentioned,  a  class  of  objects  of  know 
ledge  perceived  by  attending  to  the  passions  and 
operations  of  the  mind.  He  does  not  say  that 
these  objects  of  knowledge  are  ideas  ;  he  seems, 
indeed,  to^use  an  awkward  construction  deliber 
ately,  in  order  to  ayoid  committing  himself  to 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  145 

the  statement  that  these  objects  of  knowledge 
are  ideas. 

For  proof  of  our  interpretation  we  are  not  confined 
to  grammatical  analysis  of  a  single  isolated  sentence. 
It  is  confirmed  also  by  what  Berkeley  says  and  does 
not  say  elsewhere  in  the  Principles  and  other  works. 
It  is  certain  from  his  other  works  that  he  regarded 
knowledge  of  mental  operations  as  of  the  same  kind 
as  knowledge  of  spirits.  It  is  not  perceptual  know 
ledge,  not  knowledge  by  ideas,  but  conceptual 
knowledge,  the  knowledge  that  he  later  called 
notional.  Thus,  in  De  Motu  (1721)  he  mentions 
that  pure  intellect,  in  distinction  from  sense- 
perception  and  imagination,  is  concerned  with  "  res 
spirituales  et  inextensas,  cuiusmodi  sunt  mentes 
nostrae,  earumque  habitus,  passiones,  virtutes,  et 
similia."  l  And  in  the  second  edition  of  the  Prin 
ciples  the  operations  of  the  mind  are  bracketed 
with  spirits  as  the  objects  of  conceptual  notional 
knowledge. 

Further,  it  is  significant  that,  in  the  first  edition 
of  the  Principles,  while  Berkeley  writes  in  detail 
on  the  two  classes  of  ideas,  he  says  not  a  word  in 
explanation  of  our  knowledge  of  the  passions  and 
operations  of  the  mind.  Now,  if  such  knowledge 
is  knowledge  by  way  of  ideas,  it  is  difficult  to  explain 
why  Berkeley  dealt  with  the  other  two  classes  of 
ideas,  and  altogether  omitted  to  expound  or  examine 
this.  On  the  other  hand,  the  omission  may  be  easily 
accounted  for  on  the  interpretation  which  I  have 
suggested.  The  explanation  is  this.  Berkeley  did 
not  deal  with  knc-wledge  of  the  passions  and  opera- 

l§53. 

B.P.  K 


146  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

tions  of  the  mind  in  the  Principles,  because  he 
intended  to  treat  of  it,  along  with  knowledge  of 
spirit,  in  the  projected  Part  II.  of  the  Principles .l 

And  on  the  negative  side,  there  is  an  entire  absence 
of  evidence  that  he  ever  did  hold  the  view  commonly 
attributed  to  him.  There  is  no  proof  that  he  ever 
regarded  knowledge  of  mental  operations  as  an  idea. 
And  it  seems  inconceivable  that  Berkeley,  with  all 
his  inconsistency,  could  have  considered  it  possible 
to  have  an  idea,  in  his  sense  of  the  word,  of  mental 
operations.  He  must  have  been  aware  that  pre 
cisely  the  same  arguments  as  he  used  against  ideas 
of  spirits  may  be  advanced  against  ideas  of  mental 
operations.2  We  are,  therefore  justified,  I  think,  in 

1  Berkeley  refers  several  times  to  the  second  part  of  the  Prin 
ciples.     "  As  to  the  Second  Part  of  my  treatise  concerning  the 
Principles  of  Human  Knowledge,  the  fact  is  that  I  had  made  a 
considerable  progress  in  it  ;    but  the  manuscript  was  lost  about 
fourteen  years  ago,  during  my  travels  in  Italy,  and  I  never  had 
leisure  since  to  do  such  a  disagreeable  thing  as  writing  twice  on 
the  same  subject."     (Letter  to  Samuel  Johnson,  June  25,  1729.) 
The  original  edition  of  the  Principles  had  "  Part  I."  on  the  title- 
page.     In  the  second  edition,  which  was  published  two  or  three 
years  after  this  letter  was  written,  "  Part  I."  was  omitted.     In 
the  Commonplace  Book  there  are  many  references  to  the  subjects 
which  will  be  dealt  with  in  "  the  Second  Book  "  or  the  "  Second 
Part."     From  these  references  we  gather  that  Part  II.  would 
have    dealt    inter    alia    with    spirits,    mental    operations,    and 
relations,  and  also  with  ethics.     Berkeley  also  refers  to  Part  IT. 
in  a  letter  written  in  1711  to  Jean  Leclerc.     There  he  mentions 
his  anxiety  to  have  the  criticism  of  savants  on  his  Principles,  in 
order  that,  either  encouraged  by  their  approval,  or  profiting  by 
their  criticisms,  he  may  the  sooner  prepare  ad  consectaria  inde 
deducenda  partemque  secundam  pertexendam.     (Archiv  f.  Oesch.  d. 
Phil.  xvii.  161.)     There  is  also  a  reference  to  it  in  the  Preface  to 
the  Three  Dialogues  (i.  376). 

2  Mental  operations  are,  for  Berkeley,  objects  of  knowledge. 
But  they  are  not  ideas,  nor  can  they  be  known  by  way  of  ideas. 
They  are  known  in  the  same  way  as  spirits  are  known. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  147 

believing  that  Berkeley  means  to  enumerate  only  two__ 
classes  of  knowledge  of  ideas.1 

TKese  tw5  ~  kimfe  "of"ideas  are,  first,  "ideas 
actually  imprinted  on  the  senses,"  and,  second, 
"ideas  formed  by  the  help  of  memory  and  imag 
ination.'"  " 

••  v»fy 

To  take  first  ideas  of  the  former  kind.  Idea  in 
this  sense  may  mean,  for  Berkeley,  either  (a)  a 
particular  sensible  quality,  or  (b)  a  collection  of 
such  qualities,  i.e.  "a  thing."  Through  the  various,. 
sense-organs  we  become  aware  of  sensible  qualities, 
such  as  heat  and  cold,  colours,  tastes,  and  so  on  ; 
and  all  these  specific  sensible  qualities  may,  he  main 
tains,  be  called  ideas.  Now,  these  qualities  some 
times  cohere  with  one  another,  or  uniformly  accom*. 
pany  one  ariotner  :  in  such  cases  these  groups  or 
collections  of  qualities,  being  always  observed  to  go 
together,  are  given  one  name,  and  regarded  as  one 
thing.  And  such  a  thing,  as  a  determinate  aggregate 
of  sensible  qualities,  may  be  termed  an  idea.  But 
though  he  does  use  the  word  idea  for  either  a  single 
sensible  quality  or  a  determinate  group  of  qualities, 

1  There  is  only  one  argument,  I  think,  which  can  be  adduced 
in  favour  of  the  universally  accepted  interpretation  of  Berkeley's 
sentence.  It  may  be  pointed  out  that  in  §  2  Berkeley  distinctly 
states  that  "  besides  all  that  endless  variety  of  ideas  or  objects 
of  knowledge,"  there  is  a  spirit  which  perceives  them  ;  and  that  if 
Berkeley  had  intended  to  consider  knowledge  of  the  operations 
of  the  mind  as  akin  to  knowledge  of  spirits,  he  would  have  men 
tioned  them  along  with  spirits.  But  in  answer  to  this,  it  should 
be  noted  that  Berkeley's  division  in  §§  1  and  2  is  not  based  on 
"  kind  of  knowledge  "  :  the  distinction  is  between  objects  of 
knowledge  (in  §  1)  and  knowing  subject  (in  §  2).  Thus  Berkeley 
is  perfectly  j  ustined  in  mentioning  mental  operations  in  §  1 ,  even 
though  he  believed  that  the  kind  of  knowledge  we  have  of  them 
is  not  knowledge  by  way  of  ideas.  Mental  operations  are  objects 
of  knowledge,  and  this  is  all  Berkeley  says. 


148V'  cr.,\K BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

he   seems   on  the  whole  to  prefer  to   call  specific 

«~-  •  -  •  .___  -       -  _         ^ 

qualities  simply  qualities,  and  to  reserve  the  name 
idea  for  things. 

Ideas  of  the  second  sort  are  reproductions  in 
memory  or  imagination  of  the  former  class.  These 
mental  images  are  sharply  distinguished  by  Berkeley 
from  things.  The  various  marks  of  distinction  which 
he  mentioned  are  those  which  Hume  repeated  and 
psychology  accepts.1  "  The  ideas  of  sense  aremore 
strong,  lively,  and  distinct  than  those  of  the  imairhia- 
tiou.;  they  have  likewise  a  steadiness,  order  and 
ioherence  ;  and  are  not  excited  at  random,  .  .  Tbut 

Ja  regular  train  or  series."  2     Images,  on  the_otjie]f 
ind,     are     entirely    ^^"flpni-.    ran     i.hp.     irjrh'viflflp.1 

mindP1*'  ItTs  no  more  than  willing,  and  straightway 


this  or  that  idea  arises  in  my  fancy."  3  Images  are 
representations,  and  they  may  represent  ^rffier  real 
things  or  chimeras,  according  to  the  will  of  the 
individual  who  gives  them  existence. 

Our  apprehension  of  ideas  of  both  classes  is  im- 
\!'     mediate.4     Ideas  of  the  former  class,  or  idea-things, 
as  we  may  call  them,  are  immediately  perceived  ; 
;  ideas  of  the  latter  type,  or  idea-images,  are  immedi- 
;  ately    imagined.     In    both    cases    alike    Berkeley's 
1    analysis  of  the  knowing  process  reveals  only  the 
conscious  subject  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other 

V  V  v 

^  V.  the  idea-thing  or  idea-image,  the  relation  between, 
the  knower  and  the  object  known  being  regarded  as 
necessarily  direct.  Now,  this  doctrine  of  the  im 
mediacy  of  knowledge  brought  Berkeley  into  conflict 

1  Cf.  G.  F.  Stout,  Some  Fundamental  Points  in  the  Theory  of 
Knowledge,  p.  14. 

2  Principles,  §  30.         3  Principles,  §  28.         4  Dialogues,  i.  383. 


uto 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  149 

with  previously  accepted  philosophical  conclusions 
at  two  points. 

(a)  Philosophy  had  previously  been  more  or  less 
agreed  that  while  the  relation  between  the  mind 
and  its  mental" image"  is  direct,  this  mental  image 
yet  represents  some  third  thing  actually  existing 
apart  from  it,  so  that  when,  as  we  say,  we  imagine 
a  house,  though  the  mind  is  related  immediately  to 

^^  ^ .^^^^^^^^••••^^•••^^^^^M* 

the  mental  image  of  the  house,  this  image  performs 
a  representative  function  with  regard  to  some 
probably  actually  existing  and  previously  perceive 
IIOUSQ,  This  reference  of  the  image  to  something 
external  to  it  is  always  presupposed.  Now,  Berkeley 
simply  cuts  out  this  external jrejerence_altogethe£ ; 
an  jib  at,  3  on  hia"t.hftnry>  jh  imagination  what  we  knpw  __ 
is  a  mental  image,  and  a  mental  image  only.  Just 
as  the  idea  which  we  perceive  is  the  thing,  and  not 
a  copy  of  the  external  thing,  so  the  mental  image  is 
(not,  certainly,  a  thing,  but)  what  we  actually  know, 
^jyid  not  merely  a  copy  of  it.  In  other  words,  if  I 
f  .imaffine_ji  house~what  I  am  oognitively  related  to  is 
the  mental  image  ;  and  in  simple 


mental  image  does  not  necessarily  refer  to  anything 


n  certain.  cases,  indeed,  the  mental  image  may  be 
taken  to  represent  something  not  itself,  whether 
^Eat_something  be  another  mep^ftH  JTflftg6  Qr  class  Qf 

images  or  an  idea-thing  or  class  of  idea-things.     In 

-  _.    **  ^^  —  g  — 

such  instances,  Berkeley  holds,  what  we  have  is  not 
simple  imagination,  but  a  process  of  Jnference,  in 
which  the  mental  image  is  regarded  as  a  sign,  which 
represents  or  stands  for  something  not  itself,  and 
on  the  basis  of  which  we  carry  on  reasoning.  But 


* 

BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

in  such  representative  knowledge,  Berkeley's  view 
of  which  has  already  been  explained,  we  have 
passed  beyond  mere  imagination,  which  is  always 
immediate  and  direct. 

(6)  Berkeley's  theory  of  immediacy  also  comes 
into  conflict  with  the  doctrine  of  Representative 
Perception.  That  doctrine,  as  maintained  by  Locke 
and  Descartes,  according  to  whom  the  mind  perceives  . 
the  external  world  by  means  of  intermediate  ideas 
which  are  regarded  as  copies  of  the  real  things,  must 
be  clearly  distinguished  from  Berkeley's  own  theory 
of  representative  knowledge  by  signs.  According 
to  Berkeley's  theory,  which  is  a  theory  of  interence. 
in  universal  knowledge  we  must  have  intermediate 
s  and  representative  factors  on  which  to  reason!  But 
perception  is  in  an  entirely  different  position  from 
that :  perception  involves,  Berkeley  believes, no- 
inference  or  reasoning  ;  it  is  a  direct  and  immediate 
relation  of  "the  mind  to  idea-things.  Whereas  in 
reasoning  we  Enow  only  aSowTEKe  tiling  of  which  we 
reason,  in  perception  we  are  immediately  aware  of 
the  thing.  I  see  the  blue  paper  on  which  I  write 
immediately  and  directly  ;  I  do  not  see  about  it,  nor 
do  I  see  anything  intermediate  between  me  and  it. 
Berkeley  insists  that  if  the  thing  is  itself  percept 
ible,  there  is  no  need  of  intermediate  ideas  to  relate 
'it  to  the  percipient  subject,  for  the  thing  itself  is 
immediately  presented  to  the  percipient,  and  is 
accordingly,  in  Berkeley's  terminology,  itself  an  idea. 
In  perception,  then,  we  have  only  two  factors,  the 
percipient  subject  and  the  idea-thing  perceived. 

Berkeley's  theory  of  sensf -perception  suffers  both 
from  over-simplification  and  from  lack  of  discrimi- 


«jQtUu*£>  I  O^ujfat  I 
THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  151 


/ 


native  analysis.  These  two  faults  are  quite  different, 
and,  though  it  has  always  been  recognised  that  his 
theory  of  perception  is  in  some  way  deficient,  it  has 
not  been  sufficiently  emphasised  that  there  are  two 
mistakes  which  it  commits,  and  that  these  two 
errors  should  be  carefully  distinguished. 

That  Berkeley  is  betrayed  by  his  eagerness  "  to 
abridge  the  labour  of  study"  into  a  superficial 
simplification  that  overlooks  distinctions  already 
established  can  readily  be  shown  by  reference  to 
his  criticism  of  the  doctrine  of  Representative^. 
Perception.  According  to  that  theory,  all  perception 
involves  at  least  three  elements,  viz.  the  percipient, 
the  idea  perceived,  and  the  external  tiling  ;  and  it 
is~&§Sumed.  that  the  thing  is  somehow  a  copy  of  the 
external  reality.  Now,  Berkeley  saw  clearly  the 
difficulties  of  this  theory.  If  the  mind  is  confined 
to  its  own  ideas,  he  argues7~and  is  cut  off  from_  /i 
Immediate  knowledge  of  the  real  world,  how  is  it  /\ 
to  know  if  its  ideas  do  or  do  not  agree  with  things  ? 
In  order  to  compare  two  things,  it  is  necessary  to 
know  both.  Thus  we  cannot  compare  ideas  with 
the  things  which  they  represent,  because  we  can 
rmvefr  ffloape  the  circle  of  our  ownjdeag7  And  the* 
further  objection  is  "advanced  that,  if  the  external 
world  does  exist,  it  cannot  be  like  our  ideas  (for 
nothing  but  an  idea  can  be  like  an  idea),  and  there 
fore  cannot  in  any  way  be  known, 

It  is  therefore  clear,  Berkeley  avers,  that  Locke 
has  gone  wrong  somewhere  ;  and  he  argues  that 
Locke's  error  lies  in  the  postulation  of  something 
which  does  not  really  exist  at  all.  This  non-existent 
thing  is  Locke's  external  material  world.  What 


152  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Berkeley  does,  then,  is  simply  to  accept  Locke's  view 
that  the  relation  of  the  mind  and  its  ideas  is 
immediate,  and  to  deny  that  there  is  anything  over 
and  above  the  mind  and  its,  ideas.  In  other  words, 
Berkeley  reaches  his  view  of  the  immediacy  of  per 
ception  by  this  drastic  Procrustean  method  of 
"  simplifying  "  Locke's  theory.1 

But  Berkeley's  doctrine  is  defective  also  by  reason 
of  its  lack  of  psychological  analysis  ;  it  is  too  undis- 
criminating  and  too  facile,  and  it  does  not  account 
for  the  complexity  of  the  process  of  perception.  He 
may  have  been  right  in  his  criticism  of  Locke,  for 
Locke  may,  indeed,  have  postulated  a  supposititious 
element ;  but,  after  having  discharged  this  duty  of 
negative  criticism,  he  had  only  half-completed  his 
work.  He  ought  to  have  made  a  careful  psycho 
logical  analysis  of  the  perceptual  process,  with  a 
view  to  discovering  whether  the  simple  relation 
mind-idea  tells  the  whole  truth  about  perception. 

Now,  he  never,  in  fact,  attempted  any  exhaustive 

1  It  is  interesting  to  note  how  similar  in  method  and  how 
different  in  result  is  Reid's  "  simplification  "  of  Locke.  Reid, 
like  Berkeley,  arguing  as  an  advocate  of  the  plain  man  and 
common  sense  against  the  subtleties  which  metaphysics  had 
introduced  into  philosophy,  agrees  with  him  that  Locke  had 
obscured  the  nature  of  knowledge  by  interpolating  a  spurious 
factor.  But  on  the  question  which  of  Locke's  three  factors  is 
unreal  he  differs  from  Berkeley  toto  coelo.  By  Berkeley  it  was 
maintained  that  Locke's  third  factor — the  material  world — has 
no  real  existence.  But  Reid  denied  the  existence  of  Locke's 
second  factor.  Locke's  imitative  and  intermediate  ideas  are 
simply  creatures  of  phantasy  ;  they  have  no  real  existence. 
Thus  Berkeley  is  left  with  mind  plus  ideas,  and  Reid  with  mind 
plus  matter.  For  both,  the  relation  between  mind  and  its 
objects  is  immediate  ;  and  both,  we  may  safely  say,  commit  the 
error  of  over-simplification.  (Cf.  my  Introduction  to  Selection* 
from  the  Scottish  Philosophy  of  Common  Sense,  pp.  4  ff . ) 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  153 

analysis  of  the  actual  process  of  perception.  He 
draws  no  distinction,  as  we  have  seen  in  dealing  with 
his  theory  of  vision,  between  sensations  and  sensible 
qualities  ;  and  he  even  identifies  sensations  and 
sensible  things  or  objects.1  For  him  the  word  idea 
means  at  one  andthe^  ja-me  time  a  sensation_injbh.e . 
mind  and  a  thing  presented  to  the  mind.  He  never 
examined  what  difference  there  might  be  between  a 
sensation  or  group  of  sensations  and  a  thing.2  He 
made  no  such  analysis  of  the  perceptual  process  as 
has  been  undertaken  in  recent  years  by  Meinong, 
Husserl,  and  others.  These  writers  differ  much  in 
detail  and  in  terminology,  but  they  all  agree  in 
drawing  a  fundamental  distinction  between  what 
the  mind  means  or  intends  in  perceiving  or  having 
ideas,  and  the  actual  experiences  which  it  has  as  a 
particular  psychical  existent.  The  former  is  called 
"thing"  or.  "object,"  the  latter  "experience"  or 
"  act."  3  Again,  in  mental  experience  we  may  dis 
tinguish  what  are  called  by  Prof.  Stout  and  some 
other  psychologists  "  presentations."  Not  all 
mental  experiences  are  presentations,  for  certain 
mental  experiences  may  refer  to  nothing  outside 
themselves,  and  it  is  characteristic  of  presentations 
to  be  presentative  of  something  beyond  themselves. 
Presentations  are  always  contents  of  immediate 
experience  ;  but  they  are  not  themselves  the  things 
that  they  present.  They  perform  the  function  of 
presenting  objects  that  are  not  themselves  contents 

1  Dialogues,  i.  405.  2  Ibid.  i.  384,  469. 

3  "  Gegenstand  "  is  often  distinguished  from  "  Objekt,"  and 
"  Erlebnis  "  from  "  Akt,"  but  the  specialised  meanings  which 
have  been  assigned  to  them  do  not  concern  us  here. 


154  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

of  immediate  experience.  And  a  distinction  is  also 
commonly  drawn  by  recent  epistemologists  between 
the  physical  objects  thus  presented,  the  presentations 
that  present  them,  and  the  sensations  that  actually 
arise  from  the  stimulation  of  our  sensory  receptors. 

Berkeley  makes  no  analyses  of  this  kind.  What 
he  calls  ideas  bear  much  resemblance  to  presenta 
tions,  but  in  distinction  from  them  they  are.  pre- 
sentative  of  nothing  apart  from  themselves.  Ideas_ 
for  Berkeley  are  both  presentations  and  what  presen 
tations  are  presentative  of.  He  does  not  distinguish 
carefully  between  the  actual  process  of  perception, 
the  particular  experience  in  the  psychical  individual, 
and  the  thing  or  object  perceived.  His  theory 
suffers  seriously,  in  fact,  from  absence  of  psycho 
logical  analysis. 

Berkeley's  eagerness  to  attain  his  results  by  a 
short  and  easy  method  is  responsible  also  for  his 
failure  to  give  any  adequate  solution  of  a  difficulty 
which  he  himself  raises  with  regard  to  the  self- 
identity  of  perceived  things. 

Do  different  people  really  live  in  the  same  world  ? 
Do  different  people  really  perceive  the  same  thing  ? 
The  question  at  issue  is  simply  stated  by  Hylas  : 
"  The  same  idea  which  is  in  my  mind  cannot  be  in 
yours,  or  in  any  other  mind.  Doth  it  not  therefore 
follow,  from  your  principles,  that  no  two  can  see  the 
same  thing  ?  "  l 

Berkeley's  answer  is  thoroughly  unsatisfactory. 
The  difficulty,  he  says,  is  purely  verbal,  whether  we 
consider  it  from  the  standpoint  of  the  plain  man  or 
from  that  of  the  philosopher.  The  word  same  is 

1  Dialogues,  i.  466. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  155 

commonly  used,  he  says,  to  apply  to  things  in  which 
no  distinction  or  variety  is  perceived,  and  if  we  use 
the  term  in  this  popular  sense,  then  the  same  thing 
or  idea  may  exist  in  different  minds^  Philosophers 
may  wrangle  about  sameness,  but  little  attention 
need  be  paid  to  them  till  they  have  reached  some 
agreement  in  the  definition  of  terms.  Yet  he  insists 
that,  though  they  profess  to  diverge  from  one 
another,  they  are  all  fundamentally  at  one  in  what 
they  mean  ;  they  differ  only  in  their  explanations  of 
what  they  mean.  "  Some  regarding  the  uniformness 
of  what  was  perceived  might  call  it  the  same  thing  : 
others,  especially  regarding  the  diversity  of  persons 
who  perceived,  might  choose  the  denomination  of  dif 
ferent  things.  But  who  sees  not  that  all  the  dispute 
is  about  a  word  ?  "  l  In  this  cavalier  way  Berkeley 
dismisses  the  problem.  Had  he  not  burked  this 
difficulty,  he  would  have  been  forced  to  make  a 
careful  analysis  of  the  facts  of  perception.  Idea  for 
him  covers,  as  we  have  seen,  both  thing  and  presen 
tation.  Now  qua  presentation  it  is  a  particular 
psychical  existent  in  the  mental  process  of  a  single 
individual.  But  qua  thing  it  is  regarded  by  the 
plain  man  as  one  and  the  same  for  different  percipient 
individuals.  The  plain  man  believes  that  the  thing 
that  is  seen  by  different  people  is  numerically 
identical.  In  this  sense  it  is  the  same  thing.  Berke 
ley  does  not  notice  that  the  word  same  conceals  a 
distinction  of  the  utmost  importance  for  philosophy. 
Same  may  mean  either  (1)  numerically  identical,  i.e. 
the  same,  or  (2)  numerically  distinct,  i.e.  similar. 
When  the  plain  man  says  that  ten  men  look  at  the 

1  Dialogues,  i.  467. 


156  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 


moon  he  means  that  the  object  perceived  by  the  ten 
men  is  one  and  the  same,  is  numerically  identical. 
But  Berkeley's  theory  implies  that  when  ten  men 
look  at  the  moon  each  man  has  a  presentation  of  his 
own  in  his  mind,  numerically  distinct  from  those  of 
the  others.  In  the  former  case  one  moon  is  seen, 
in  the  latter  ten.  Berkeley  believes  that  the  ideas 
men  have  in  looking  at  what  is  commonly  called  the 
same  thing  are  numerically  distinct.  But  men 
realise  that  these  numerically  distinct  ideas  are 
similar  :  "  they  agree  in  their  perceptions."  And 
Berkeley  says  it  is  of  no  consequence  whether  we 
attend  to  the  agreement  of  the  presentations  and  call 
them  the  same,  or  regard  the  diversity  of  the  persons 
who  have  the  presentations,  and  call  them  different. 
He  thus  reduces  all  sameness  or  identity  to  similarity. 
A  further  question  immediately  arises.  How  does 
A  know  that  J3's  presentation  is  similar  to  his  ?  A 
cannot  get  outside  the  circle  of  his  own  presentations. 
If  all  his  presentations  are  private,  and  are  presen- 
tative  of  nothing  outside  themselves,  how  can  he 
come  to  know  that  they  are  similar  to  -B's  ?  A  lives 
in  a  world  of  his  own,  and  so  does  B.  How  is  any 
communication  at  all  possible  between  A  and  B  ? 
Now  there  are  two  distinct  questions  here,  and  to 
each,  though  he  does  not  consider  them  at  all  fully, 
he  has  an  answer  to  give.  (1)  What  causes  A'  a 
presentations  to  be  similar  to  -B's  when  they  both 
look  at  the  moon  ?  (2)  How  do  A  and  B  come  to 
know  that  their  presentations  are  similar  ?  l  (1) 

1  This  is  essentially  the  same  problem  as  is  discussed  with 
reference  to  Reid  and  Hamilton  by  Ward.  (Naturalism  and 
Agnosticism,  ii.  165  sqq.) 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  157 

/  Berkeley  holds  that  God  causes  the  similarity  of 
J^presentations.  When  A  and  B  are  both  looking  at 
what  is  commonly  called  the  moon,  God  causes 
similar  ideas  to  occur  in  their  minds.  These  similar 
ideas  persist  in  their  minds  so  long  as,  they  continue 
to  look  at  the  moon.  If  A  turns  away,  God  instan 
taneously  causes  his  idea  of  the  moon  to  cease  as  a 
presentation.  If  A  and  B  both  alter  their  positions 
and  their  attitudes  to  the  moon,  God  causes  their 
similar  ideas  to  change  similarly  and  concurrently 
with  their  changing  positions  and  attitudes.  God^ 
is  wholly  responsible  for  the  similarity  of  presenta 
tions.  (2)  A  and  B  come  to  recognise  the  similarity 

Wap***"-  "  —  — - — T~"~!~"" 

of  their  presentations  by  each  forming  images  or 

representations  of  the  presentations  which  God  has. 
cause^L  God  does  not  cause  the  representations  ;. 
A  and  B  cause  them  themselves,  and  are  able  to  call 
them  up  at  will.  They  can  describe  these  images 
to  one  another,  and  thus  come  to  recognise  the 
similarity  of  the  images.  Hence  they  infer  the 
similarity  of  the  original  presentations.^^/ 

From  all  this  it  is  clear  that  in  perception  more 
than  bare  sensational  awareness  is  involved.  When 
our  sensory  receptors  are  stimulated,  we  experience 
certain  sensations.  But  this  in  itself  is  not  enough 
to  give  us  the  perception  of  an  object.  In  addition 
to  the  various  sensations,  an  element  of  interpreta 
tion  is  needed  to  weld  the  sensations  into  a  perception. 
Further,  we  do  not  really  perceive  a  thing  as  a  thing 
unless  we  know  at  the  same  time  that  it  is  a  thing 
not  only  for  ourselves,  but  also  for  others.  In  other 
words,  the  processes  of  interpretation  and  inference, 
on  which  depends  our  recognition  of  the  respects  in 


158  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

which  our  sensations  resemble  those  of  other  people 
when  we  say  that  we  perceive  the  same  thing,  are 
essentially  implied  in  all  actual  perception. 

Thus,  the  identical  thing  that  we  perceive  is  not 
immediately  given  in  sensory  experience,  but  is  a 
construct  which  we  make  by  conflating  the  specific 
data  of  the  various  senses.     Berkeley  himself  puts 
the  matter  very  lucidly.     "  Strictly  speaking,  Hylas, 
we  do  not  see  the  same  object  that  we  feel ;   neither 
is  the  same  object  perceived  by  the  microscope  which 
was  by  the  naked  eye.  .  .  .     Therefore  .  .  .  men  com 
bine  together  several  ideas,  apprehended  by  divers 
senses,  or  by  the  same  sense  at  different  times,  or  in 
different  circumstances,  but  observed,  however,  to 
have  some  connection  in  nature,  either  with  respect 
to  coexistence  or  succession  ;    all  which  they  refer 
to  one  name,  and  consider  as  one  thing."  l     It  is 
clear,  then,  according  to  his  own  admission,  that  the 
whole  thing  is  not  immediately  presented  in  direct 
/  perception.     All  that  we  are  immediately  sensorily 
L  aware  of  when  we  say  that  we  perceive  a  house  is  a 
4  fragmentary  and  disconnected  olla  podrida  of  sensa- 
i   tions  :  everything  else  is  inference  and  interpreta 
tion,  involving  past  experience  and  present  mental 
operations.2 

We   have   thus   seen   that   Berkeley's   theory   of 

knowledge  of  the  first  kind,  purporting  at  the  outset 

to  be  simple  and  direct,  involves  in  reality  relations 

and  mental  operations  of  a  very  complicated  nature. 

We  now  turn  to  his  doctrine  of  the  second  main 

1  Dialogues,  i.  463-4  ;   cf.  i.  469. 

8  Cf.  New  Theory  of  Vision,  §  49  ;    Theory  of  Vision  Vindicated, 
§§  9,  10,  15. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  159 

type  of  knowledge,  which  deals  explicitly  with 
spirits,  mental  operations,  and  relations.  What  he 
says  of  this  kind  of  knowledge  is  fragmentary,  in  the 
sense  that  it  is  both  disconnected  and  defective.  In 
the  Principles  he  does  indeed  distinguish  knowledge 
of  spirits  from  knowledge  of  ideas,  but  without 
making  very  clear  wherein  the  difference  consists. 
From  the  first,  however,  it  was  obvious  to  him  that, 
if  all  knowledge  is  sense-knowledge,  then  knowledge 
of  spirits  and  selves,  of  laws  and  relations,  is  im 
possible.  But  he  believes  in  the  existence  of  spirits 
and  relations  ;  and,  as  whatever  exists  must  be 
knowable,  it  follows  that  we  must  be  able  to  cognise 
spirits  and  relations  somehow.  Now,  since  we  do 
not,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  perceive  spirits  or  relations, 
our  knowledge  of  them  must  be  other  than  sense - 
knowledge.  Hence  it  is  absurd  to  wish,  as  Locke 
did,  for  a  new  sense  by  which  to  perceive  spirit,  for 
a  new  sense  could  give  us  nothing  but  sense-know 
ledge,  and  sense-knowledge  could  never  be  adequate 
to  reveal  the  nature  of  that  which  is  supra-sensible.1 
But  though  we  have,  and  can  have,  no  idea  of  spirit, 
it  is  not  absolutely  unknowable.  It  has  a  meaning, 
which  is  recognised  as  soon  as  the  name  is  uttered. 
<£  Soul,  spirit  and  substance  ...  do  mean  or  signify 
a  real  thing."  2  Our  knowledge  of  spirits  and  rela 
tions  is  not  by  way  of  particular  ideas,  but  by  way 
of  universal  meanings  or  notions. 

The  germs  of  this  theory  of  a  conceptual  knowledge 
of  spirits  are  present  in  the  Principles,  though  the 
distinctive  terminology  which  he  later  adopted  to 
express  it  was  unthought  of  when  the  Principles  was 

1  Principles,  §  136.  *  Ibid.  §  139. 


160  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

written.  Still,  even  in  the  Principles  he  distin 
guishes,  as  we  have  seen,  two  kinds  of  knowledge — 
and  distinguishes  them  with  reference  not  only  to 
their  objects,  but  also  to  the  particular  way  of  know 
ing  followed.  Knowledge  of  spirits  is  differentiated 
from  knowledge  of  ideas  ;  and,  with  regard  to  the 
method  of  knowing,  a  parallel  distinction  is  intro 
duced  between  rational  knowledge  and  sense- 
knowledge.  But  in  the  Principles  this  distinction 
is  not  explained.  It  is,  however,  kept  in  view,  and 
perhaps  developed  a  little,  in  De  Motu  (1721),  where 
he  draws  a  sharp  distinction  between  imagination 
(defined  as  "  the  representative  faculty  of  sensible, 
or  actually  existing,  or  at  least  possible,  things  "), 
and  pure  intellect  (which  is  concerned  with  spirits, 
mental  operations,  relations,  and  so  on).1  In  Alci- 
phron  2  (1732)  and  in  the  Theory  of  Vision  Vindi 
cated  3  (1733)  essentially  the  same  distinction  is 
employed,  the  contrasted  terms  being  either  imagina 
tion  and  reflection,  or  sense  and  reason,  or  perception 
and  judgment,  or  sensation  and  understanding,  the 
first-named  in  each  case  being  on  the  perceptual 
level,  the  latter  on  the  conceptual ;  but  no  attempt 
is  yet  made  to  work  it  out,  or  to  develop  in  any  way 
the  theory  of  conceptual  knowledge.  By  the  time 
the  second  edition  of  the  Principles  was  published 
(1734),  he  had  entirely  abandoned  his  early  design 
to  write  in  detail  on  knowledge  of  spirits  4 ;  conse 
quently,  when  he  revised  the  Principles  for  the 
second  edition,  he  simply  added  two  or  three  para- 

1  De  Motu,  §  53.  2  Alciphron,  vii.  §§  11-14. 

3  Theory  of  Vision  Vindicated,  §§  9-12,  42. 
*hCf.  supra,  p.  146  n. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE 


161 


graphs,  in  which  his  theory  of  conceptual  knowledge 
is  briefly  sketched,  and  made  the  few  alterations 
rendered  necessary  by  the  new  terminology.  To  the 
universal  element  of  meaning  in  knowledge  he  gives 
the  name  notion.  In  the  first  passage  in  which  the 
new  term  is  introduced,  its  relations  to  his  former 
inchoate  theory  of  universal  meanings  is  evident. 
"  We  have  some  notion"  he  says,  "  of  soul,  spirit^ 
and  the  operations  of  the  mind,  such  as  wil]' 
"lovin  ""Rating  —  inasmuch  as  we  know  ._pr._m 

e  meaning  of  these  words."  1     Thus,  instead  . 


of  mm-ly  saying  that  spirits  have  meaning,  lie  now 
says  that  we  have  a  notion  of  spirits.  Though  the 
two  statements  really  amount  to  the  same  thing, 
the  introduction  of  the  new  and  distinctive  term 
marks  a  notable  step  in  the  direction  of  a  systematic 
theory  of  universal  knowledge  of  spirits. 

What  suggested  to  Berkeley  that  the  term  notion 
should  be  used  to  signify  the  universal  element  in 
knowledge  ?  In  the  philosophical  writings  of  his 
contemporaries  no  word  is  used  more  frequently  or 
more  vaguely  than  notion.  It  is  the  most  inde 
terminate  term  in  an  age  when  looseness  and 
ambiguity  of  language  was  the  rule  rather  than  the 
exception.  And  Berkeley  himself  uses  it  quite  as 
freely  and  ambiguously  as  his  contemporaries.  Thus 
it  often  appears,  in  all  his  chief  works,  in  a  popular 
vague  sense.2  It  may  mean  any  sort  of  sensation 
or  perception  or  impression  or  conception,  any 

1  Principles,  §  27. 

2  Cf.  i.  119,  403,  427,  432,  435,  444,  455,  462,  463,  464,  473,  475, 
476,  477,'478,  480,  483  ;   ii.  47,  49,  50,  51,  56,  57,  61,  62,  63,  64, 
65  ;  iii.  241,  263,  266,  272,  273,  275,  280,  294. 

B.P,  L 


162  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

mental  process  or  content  or  operation.  It  is,  indeed, 
perfectly  indeterminate. 

Hence,  in  his  earlier  works,  he  sometimes  uses  it 
as  an  equivalent  of  idea,  in  his  special  terminology  ; 
so  that  whatever  can  be  predicated  of  an  idea  can 
be  predicated  of  a  notion.1  And  he  even  goes  so  far 
as  to  say,  "It  is  evident  there  can  be  no  idea  or 
notion  of  a  spirit."  2  It  is,  of  course,  clear  that  when 
he  wrote  these  words  he  can  have  had  no  intention 
whatever  of  giving  a  specialised  meaning  to  notion. 

Now,  it  is  possible,  I  would  suggest,  that  Berkeley 
was  influenced  to  introduce  the  term  notion  in  a 
specialised  sense  by  John  Sergeant,  the  only  philo 
sopher  of  the  period,  with  whose  work  he  was 
acquainted,  to  give  a  determinate  and  technical 
significance  to  the  word.  This  suggestion  can  hardly 
be  established,  since  there  is  no  positive  evidence  for 
it ;  but,  on  the  whole,  it  seems  exceedingly  plausible, 
especially  when  we  bear  in  mind  the  similarities 
which  we  have  already  discerned  in  their  writings. 

That  the  question  of  the  nature  of  the  knowledge 
of  spirits  troubled  Berkeley  greatly  admits  of  no 
doubt.  The  problem  is  always  shelved,  in  the 
Principles  and  Dialogues,  when  we  should  expect 
him  to  say  something  about  it,  partly,  no  doubt, 
because  he  intended  to  treat  of  it  in  Part  II.  of  the 
Principles,  but  mainly  because  he  simply*  did'"not 
know  what  to  say. 

Now,  in  the  Commonplace  Book  he  states  that  he 
does  not  agree  with  Sergeant's  Solid  Philosophy,  and 

1  Cf.  i.  239,  242,  247,  260,  270,  275,  335. 

2  Principles,  §138.     This  passage  was  altered  in  the  second 
edition. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  163 

it  is  just  possible  that  one  reason  why  he  abstains 
from  using  notion  as  a  technical  term  in  his  earlier 
philosophy  is  that  he  did  not  wish  to  be  obviously 
beholden  to  Sergeant.  For  Sergeant  uses  the  term 
in  a  technical  and  specialised  sense,  and  sharply 
distinguishes  it  from  idea.  In  fact,  when  Berkeley 
came  to  introduce  the  distinction  between  the  terms 
in  his  own  philosophy,  it  followed,  to  a  very  consider 
able  extent,  the  lines  suggested  by  Sergeant. 

In  order  to  make  clear  the  similarity  between  their 
views,  we  must  state  Sergeant's  exposition  of  the 
distinction  between  ideas  and  notions  ;  and,  as  his 
book  is  so  rare,  it  will  be  well  to  quote  the  most 
important  passages  verbatim.  The  general  dis 
tinction  is  that  ideas  are  "  objects  of  the  fancy," 
notions  "  objects  of  the  understanding."  Ideas  are 
merely  "  copies,  similitudes,  representations,  images, 
pictures,  portraitures,  phantasms."  Notions,  on  the 
other  hand,  though  they  exist  "  in  the  under 
standing,"  are  the  real  things  as  known.  "A  notion  is 
the  very  thing  itself  existing  in  my  understanding."  l 
"  Notions  are  the  meanings,  or  (to  speak  more 
properly)  what  is  meant  by  the  words  we  use  :  but 
what's  meant  by  the  words  is  the  thing  itself  ;  there 
fore  the  thing  itself  is  in  the  meaning  ;  and  conse 
quently  in  the  mind,  only  which  can  mean."  2 

Sergeant  mentions  four  general  criteria  to  dis 
tinguish  ideas  from  notions.  (1)  "  My  first  criterion 
shall  be  the  sensibleness  of  the  former,  and  the 
insensibleness  of  the  other.  When  we  shut  our  eyes, 
or  walk  in  the  dark,  we  experience  we  have  ideas  or 
images  of  our  way,  or  of  other  things  we  have  seen, 

1  Solid  Philosophy,  p.  27.  *  Op  cit.  p.  33,  cf.  pp.  387-8. 


164  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

in  our  fancy  :  and  this,  without  the  least  labour  of 
ours,  or  any  reflection.  And  there  is  also,  beyond 
that,  something  else  in  the  mind,  which  tells  us  of 
what  nature,  or  what  things  those  are,  which 
appeared  superficially  to  our  fancy  ;  which  costs 
us  labour  and  reflection  to  bring  it  into  the  under 
standing,  so  that  we  cannot  get  perfect  acquaintance 
with  it,  unless  we  define  it.  Nor  is  this  sensible,  as 
the  other  was,  but  only  intelligible  :  not  superficial 
or  uppermost,  but  hidden,  retruse,  and  (as  we  may 
say)  stands  behind  the  curtain  of  the  fancy  :  nor 
easy  to  comprehend  at  the  first  direct  sight  of  our 
inward  eye,  but  costs  us  reflection,  or  some  pains, 
to  know  it  distinctly  and  expressly.  Which  latter 
sort,  in  each  of  these  regards,  are  those  we  call  simple 
apprehensions,  conceptions,  or  notions."  1 

(2)  "  The  next  criterion  shall  be  this  :  we  find  we 
have  in  us  meanings  ;  now  the  meanings  of  words, 
or  (which  is  the  same,  taking  the  word  objectively, 
what's  meant  by  those  words)  are  most  evidently 
the  same  spiritual  objects  as  are  our  notions,  and 
'tis  impossible  those  meanings  should  be  the  same 
with  ideas  or  similitudes,  but  of  a  quite  different 
nature.  Let  it  be  as  like  the  thing  as  'tis  possible, 
'tis  not  the  likeness  of  it  which  we  aim  at  in  our 
language  :  for  we  do  not  intend  or  mean,  when  we 
speak  of  anything,  to  talk  or  discourse  of  what's  like 
that  thing,  but  of  what's  the  same  with  it,  or  rather, 
what  that  thing  itself  is.  ...  Wherefore  the  mean 
ing,  which  is  the  immediate  and  proper  object  of  the 
mind,  and  which  gives  us,  or  rather  is,  the  first  notice 
of  the  thing,  must  be  of  a  quite  different  nature  from 
1  Solid  Philosophy,  Preface,  §  20, 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE 


165 


an  idea  or  likeness  of  it ;  and  since  there  can  be  no 
middle  between  like  and  the  same  ;  nor  any  nearer 
approach  or  step,  proceeding  from  likeness,  towards 
unity  with  the  thing,  but  it  falls  into  identity,  it 
must  necessarily  be  more  than  like  it ;  that  is,  the 
same  with  it  ;  which  an  idea  or  likeness  cannot 
possibly  be."  l 

The  remaining  two  criteria  may  be  stated  very 
briefly. 

(3)  Ideas,   Sergeant  says,   may  be  perceived  by 
brutes,  for  brutes  have  sense-organs,  and  knowledge 
of  ideas  comes  by  way  of  the  senses.     But  brutes 
have  no  notions,  for  notions  or  meanings  belong  to 
the  mind  (as  distinct  from  sense-organs),  and  brutes 
have  "  no  spiritual  part  or  mind."  2 

(4)  Lastly,  ideas  are  always  particular.     Sergeant 
argues,  as  we  have  seen,  that  general  abstract  ideas 
are  impossible.     Notions,  on  the  other  hand,  though 
they  may  be  particular,  are  naturally  universal.3 

Now,  in  all  this  there  is,  of  course,  a  great  deal  of 
loose  or  confused  analysis  ;  but  from  our  standpoint 
the  importance  of  the  theory  lies  not  in  its  soundness 
or  unsoundness,  but  in  its  very  evident  anticipation 
of  Berkeley's  distinction  between  ideas  and  notions. 

For  Berkeley  is  in  agreement  with  Sergeant  with 
regard  to  all  the  marks  which  distinguish  notions 
from  ideas.  (1)  Ideas,  for  him  as  for  Sergeant,  are 
sensible,  while  notions  are  intelligible  or  conceptual. 
(2)  For  both,  our  notional  knowledge  is  direct  and 
immediate,  essentially  different  from  any  indirect 
or  mediated  ways  of  knowing.  (3)  Berkeley  also 

1  Op.  cit.  Preface,  §  21.     2  Op.  cit.  Preface,  §  22. 
3  Op.  cit.  Preface,  §  23. 


166  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

agrees  that  the  capacity  for  universal  knowledge  is 
a  diacritical  point  which  differentiates  man  from  the 
brutes.  (4)  And  he  believes,  with  the  Solid  Philo 
sopher,  that  all  knowledge  of  ideas  is  particular, 
whereas  notions  give  us  universal  knowledge.1 

1  The  differences  between  the  two  thinkers  are  many,  and  need 
not  be  mentioned  in  detail.  But  we  may  draw  attention  to  two 
points,  (a)  Sergeant  invariably  regards  ideas  in  the  light  of  his 
crude  interpretation  of  Locke's  theory,  i.e.  they  are  always 
merely  copies  or  images  of  real  things.  Idea  for  Sergeant  thus 
means  pretty  much  what  on  Berkeley's  theory  we  have  termed 
an  idea-image  :  he  has  nothing  corresponding  to  Berkeley's 
idea-thing,  (b)  Whereas  notional  knowledge,  in  Berkeley's 
theory,  is  confined  to  special  classes  of  objects,  e.g.  spirits  and 
relations,  Sergeant  holds  that  we  may  have  notional  knowledge 
of  all  existent  things.  All  our  real  knowledge  of  things,  on  his 
view,  comes  to  us  by  way  of  notions. 

The  term  notion  is  also  used  in  a  highly  technical  sense  by 
another  little -known  philosopher  of  the  day,  Richard  Burthogge, 
who  published  in  1696  his  Essay  upon  Reason  and  the  Nature  of 
Spirits.  To  show  the  drift  of  his  theory,  which  assigns  a  quite 
different  meaning  to  notion  from  that  which  it  bears  in  Berkeley 
and  Sergeant,  a  sentence  or  two  may  be  quoted  from  this  rare 
Essay.  There  is  no  evidence  that  Burthogge's  work  was  known 
to  Berkeley. 

"  As  the  eye  has  no  perceivance  of  things  but  under  colours, 
that  are  not  in  them  (and  the  same  with  due  alteration  must  be 
said  of  the  other  senses),  so  the  understanding  apprehends  not 
things,  or  any  habitudes  or  aspects  of  them,  but  under  certain 
notions,  that  neither  have  that  being  in  objects,  or  that  being  of 
objects,  that  they  seem  to  have  ;  but  are,  in  all  respects,  the 
very  same  to  the  mind  or  understanding,  that  colours  are  to  the 
eye,  and  sound  to  the  ear.  To  be  more  particular,  the  under 
standing  conceives  not  anything  but  under  the  notion  of  an 
entity,  and  this  either  a  substance  or  an  accident,  or  the  like  ; 
and  yet  all  these  things  and  the  like  are  only  entities  of  reason 
conceived  within  the  mind,  that  have  no  more  any  real  true 
existence  without  it  than  colours  have  without  the  eye,  or  sounds 
without  the  ear.  .  .  .  Things  are  nothing  to  us  but  as  they  are 
known  by  us.  ...  In  sum,  the  immediate  objects  of  cogitation, 
as  exercised  by  men,  are  entia  cogitationis,  all  phenomena ; 
appearances  that  do  no  more  exist  without  our  faculties  in  the 
things  themselves,  than  the  images  that  are  seen  in  water,  or 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  167 

But,  it  may  be  said,  what  really  are  notions  ?  It 
is  easier  to  say  what  they  are  not  than  what  they  are. 
It  is  clear,  in  the  first  place,  that  they  are  not  ideas. 
Though  in  Berkeley's  earlier  work  idea  and  notion 
are  used  synonymously,  as  soon  as  the  special 
doctrine  of  notions  is  suggested,  he  takes  pains,  as 
we  have  seen,  to  make  clear  that  notions  differ  from 
ideas,  whether  ideas  be  regarded  as  presentations  or 
representations . 

Are  notions,  since  they  deal  with  universal  rela 
tions,  to  be  conceived  as  abstract  ideas  ?  This  inter 
pretation  of  Berkeley's  notions  has  been  advanced 
by  Georges  Lyon,1  who  bases  it  not  so  much  on  any 
definite  statement  of  Berkeley's  as  on  the  argument 
that  it  is  the  only  thing  that  he  could  have  meant. 
But  Berkeley  really  makes  it  clear  that,  whatever 
he  meant,  he  did  not  mean  that.  For  he  allowed 
his  attack  on  abstract  ideas  to  stand  side  by  side 
with  his  new  doctrine  of  notions,  and  it  is  therefore 
clear  that  he  cannot  have  intended  to  identify 
notions  and  abstract  ideas.  He  showed  incon 
sistency  on  many  occasions,  but  he  is  never  guilty 
of  such  a  glaring  "  repugnancy  "  as  is  involved  in  the 
assumption  that  he  identified  notions  and  abstract 
ideas.  For  he  reprinted,  without  modification,  his 

behind  a  glass,  do  really  exist  in  those  places,  where  they  seem 
to  be." 

Thus  our  knowledge  "  does  not  enter  us  into  the  knowledge 
of  the  reality  itself  (may  I  so  express  it)  of  that  which  is,  which 
we  only  apprehend  inadequately  under  the  disguise  and  mas 
querade  of  notions.  We  apprehend  not  any  at  all  just  as  they 
are,  in  their  own  reality,  but  only  under  the  top-knots  and  dresses 
of  notions  which  our  minds  do  put  on  them."  (Essay  on  Reason 
and  the  Nature  of  Spirits,  in.  i.  57  ff.) 

1  L'ldealisme  en  Angleterre,  p.  341. 


168  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

criticism  of  abstract  ideas,  in  the  second  edition  of 
the  Principles,  in  which  he  introduced,  for  the  first 
time,  the  doctrine  of  notions. 

Another  interpretation  of  the  meaning  of  notion 
has  been  suggested  by  Edmund  Husserl.1  Berkeley's 
notions,  says  Husserl,  are  identical  with  Locke's 
Ideas  of  Reflexion,  and  include  both  the  Simple 
Ideas  of  Reflexion  and  the  Complex  Ideas  of  Re 
flexion.  But  while  this  comparison  is  suggestive, 
the  statement  that  the  two  doctrines  are  identical 
is  misleading.  Notions  resemble  Locke's  Ideas  of 
Reflexion  in  so  far  as  both  are  concerned  with  "  the 
notice  which  the  mind  takes  of  its  own  operations  "  ;  2 
but  notions  are  more  restricted  in  their  compre 
hension  than  Ideas  of  Reflexion.  For  Ideas  of 
Reflexion  include  perception  ;  and  their  source  is  a 
sense,  though  an  internal  one.  But  Berkeley  con 
sistently  differentiates  notional  knowledge  from  per 
ception  ;  notions  have  no  connection  at  all  with  any 
sense.  Thus  notions  cannot  be  regarded  as  identical 
with  Locke's  Ideas  of  Reflexion. 

All  that  Berkeley  himself  justifies  us  in  saying 
positively  about  notions  may  be  stated  very  briefly. 
The  notion  is  a  concept  or  universal,  present  to  the 
mind,  and  having  as  its  objects  (a)  spirits,  (6)  mental 
operations,  and  (c)  relations.  Now,  all  these  objects 
of  notional  knowledge  are,  in  Berkeley's  view, 
mental  or  spiritual.  For  (a)  spirits  are  minds, 
(6)  mental  operations  are  the  acts  of  minds,  and 
(c)  relations  always  include  an  act  of  mind.3  Spirits, 
mental  operations,  and  relations  are  all  ulti- 

1  Logische  Untcrsuchungen,  ii.  176.        2  Locke,  Essay,  n.  i.  4. 
3  Principles,  §  142. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  169 

mately  of  the  same  nature,  and  that  is  mental  or 
spiritual. 

Further,  these  objects  of  notions,  though  they  are 
not  themselves  ideas,  and  though  ideas  cannot  be  the 
objects  of  notions,  are  all  essentially  concerned  with 
ideas.  For  (a)  it  is  the  essence  of  spirit  to  perceive 
and  cause  ideas,  (6)  it  is  the  essence  of  mental 
operations  to  be  "  acts  about  ideas,"  and  (c)  it  is  the 
essence  of  relations  to  be  "  between  ideas."  :  Ideas, 
then,  though  they  cannot  be  the  objects  of  notions, 
may  be  the  objects  of  the  objects  of  notions,  for  an 
idea  is  the  object  of  a  mind,  and  a  mind  is  the  object 
of  a  notion. 

To  sum  up.  The  important  thing  about  the 
notion  is  its  universal  and  conceptual  character. 
Berkeley  always  asserts  that  of  such  objects  as 
spirits,  mental  operations  and  relations  we  can  have 
no  perceptual  knowledge  ;  hence,  if  we  are  to  know 
them  at  all,  our  knowledge  must  be  notional  or 
conceptual.  Thus,  he  consistently  sharply  differ 
entiates  the  sensational  and  perceptual  knowledge 
which  we  have  of  things  from  the  notional  and 
conceptual  knowledge  which  we  have  of  spirits. 

A  similarly  sharp  distinction  is  drawn  by  Berkeley 
between  the  existence  of  things  and  the  existence  of 
spirits.  The  nature  of  spirits,  in  his  view,  differs 
toto  coelo  from  that  of  things  ;  and  our  account  of 
their  way  of  existence  must  accordingly  follow 
different  lines.  In  the  next  two  sections  we  shall 
state  and  examine  his  doctrines  of  the  Existence  of 
Things  and  the  Existence  of  Spirits. 

1  Ibid.  §  89. 


170  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

III.  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  THINGS. 

Berkeley  believes  firmly  in  the  existence  and 
reality  of  the  world  of  things.  "  By  the  principles 
premised,"  he  says,  "  we  are  not  deprived  of  any  one 
thing  in  nature."  *•  "  Whatever  we  see,  feel,  hear, 
or  anywise  conceive  or  understand,  remains  as 
secure  as  ever,  and  is  as  real  as  ever.  There  is  a 
rerum  natura."  2  With  regard  to  his  belief  in  the 
reality  of  things  he  is  at  one  with  most  previous 
philosophers.  Where  he  differs  from  his  prede 
cessors  is  in  the  interpretation  he  puts  upon  the 
meaning  of  reality. 

It  had  previously  been  held  by  many  philo 
sophers  that  the  reality  of  things  depends  on  the 
support  of  a  material  substratum.  "  The  reality  of 
things,"  says  Hylas,  the  defender  of  materialism  in 
the  Dialogues,  "  cannot  be  maintained  without 
supposing  the  existence  of  matter."  3  Thus,  before 
Berkeley  can  establish  his  own  view  of  reality,  he 
must  remove  this  erroneous  conception  of  matter  as 
the  substratum  of  reality .\ 

His  attack  on  matter  is  perhaps  the  most  serious 
task  he  ever  undertook  ;  and  in  the  criticism  of 
materialism  he  enters  into  considerable  detail.  He 
does  not  himself  classify  the  various  views  of  matter 
which  he  examines,  but  they  may  be  reduced  to 
three  main  heads.  (1)  According  to  the  first  theory, 
matter  is  immediately  perceived.  (2)  On  the  second 
view,  matter  is  not  perceived,  but  is  inferred  to  be 
either,  (a)  like  our  ideas,  though  imperceptible,  or 
(6)  unlike  our  ideas,  but  the  cause  of  them,  or  (c)  the 

1  Principles,  §  34.        2  Ibid.  §  34.         3  Dialogues,  i.  439. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  171 

instrument  of  our  ideas,  or  (d)  the  occasion  of  our 
ideas.  (3)  And  according  to  the  third  main  theory, 
matter  is  simply  postulated  as  an  unknown  but 
indispensable  Somewhat.  We  shall  examine,  in 
order,  Berkeley's  criticisms  of  each  of  these 
doctrines. 

(1)  Matter,  according  to  the  first  theory,  though 
absolute  and  permanent,  is  capable  of  being  im 
mediately  perceived.  And,  it  is  argued,  since  it  is 
immediately  perceived,  we  have  direct  evidence  of 
its  existence. 

To  this  argument  Berkeley  replies  by  examining 
what  actually  takes  place  when  we  say  that  we 
perceive  a  thing.  Suppose  I  say  that  I  see  a  cherry. 
What  is  it  that  I  am  really  sensible  of  ?  I  have 
certain  sensations,  Berkeley  says,  of  softnej,g.l_jnois- 
ture,  redness,  and  tartness^Hand  that  is  all.  "  A 
cherry,  I  say,  is  nothing  but  a  congeries  of  sensible 
impressions,  or  ideas  perceived  by  various  senses."  : 
In  our  perception  of  the  cherry  we  never  have  any 
sensation  of  matter  ;  and  we  conclude  that,  whatever 
matter  may  be,  it  is  certainly  not  immediately 
perceptible.  p,  | 

Again,  if  matter  were  perceptible,  our  actual 
perceptions  would  not  vary  as  they  do  ;  for  matter 
is  always  regarded  as  stable  and  permanent.  Now, 
tHe  sensations  which  we  actually  experience  in  per 
ceiving  an  object  vary  from  time  to  time  according 
to  the  light  in  which  the  object  is  seen,  the  position 
from  which  we  perceive  it,  and  the  distance  we  are 
from  it.  And,  Berkeley  argues,  _i£_the  sensible 
qualities  of  which  we  are  aware  were  really  material. 

1  Dialogues,  i.  469. 


172  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 


these  varifriflOTifl  in  sp.nsft-pypftripnnft  would  be  im 
possible,  because  matter  is  IxtTfi/ypotfiesi  absolute  and 
immutable. 

Further,  to  draw  a  positive  inference  from  what 
has  been  said,  it  is  clear  that  as  a  thing,  e.g.  a  cherry, 
is  nothing  but  a  combination  of  ideaj^  the  thingjmmst 
be  mental,  In  the  sense  that  its  existence  depends 
on  the  mind.  Now,  matter  and  mind  are  mutually 
exclusive  ;  if,  then,  the  thing  is  mental,  it  cannot  be 
either  material  or  dependent  upon  matter.1 

*mtm___r.^  __  j»i»iip  •"'^••••^'••L.U_^_^^^_^__J.___^___^-,  ..........  ,  -      ••"•*" 

On  all  these  grounds  Berkeley  thereioreTiolds  that 
the  first  theory  of  matter  is  untenable.  Matter  is 
noJ^krmwjri  imin.e_diatelyjiy^ensje^^jc^ption.  Now, 
if  matter  is  to  bejknown  at  all,  Berkeley  says,  it  jnust 
be  cognised  in  one  of  two  ways  ;  it  must  be  known 
either  immediately  by  sense-perception,  or  mediately 
by  a  process  of  inference.2  We  have  already 
established  that  it  cannot  be  known  immediately, 
and  we  must  now  consider  the  arguments  by  which 
endeavours  have  been  made  to  prove  that  it  may  be 
inferred  to  exist. 

(2)  If  we  infer  matter  to  exist,  various  views  of  its 
nature  are  possible. 

(a)  According  to  the  first  variety  of  this  materialist 
doctrine,  matter  may  be  inferred  to  be  like  our  ideas. 
Even  if  we  admit,  the  materialist  argues,  that  matter 
is  imperceptible,  there  may  exist  material  entities 
corresponding  with,  and  similar  to,  the  ideas  that 
we  actually  perceive  ;  and  these  material  entities 
guarantee  the  regularity  and  self  -consistency  of  the 

1  Berkeley's  positive  theory  of  the  mind  -dependent  reality  of 
things  will  be  examined  in  detail  later. 

"  Dialogues,  i.  435. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  173 

groups   of   sensations   which   we   experience   under 
determinate  sets  of  circumstances. 

Against  this  view  Berkeley  brings  two  objections, 
(i)  He  points  out  that  it  is  universally  acknowledged, 
even  by  materialists,  that  our  sensations,  differing 
according  to  the  conditions  under  which  we  are 
affected,  are  exceedingly  variable.  If,  then,  as  the 
materialist  assumes,  the  material  thing  resembles  the 
idea,  it  must  at  one  and  the  same  time,  while  still 
remaining  the  same  material  thing,  be  like  several 
dissimilar  ideas.  And  that,  Berkeley  holds,  is  a 
contradiction  in  terms.1  (iij  He  argues,  further,  that 
since  we  perceive_only^)ur^own  ideas,_or  ,aje...a.war-e. 
only  of  ourown  sensations,  jnattfij:,  .if.  it-coasts-,  -canno.t 
be  like  these  ideas  or  sensations.  For  a  sensation 
cannot  be  similar  in  nature  to  what  is  ex  hypothesi 
ultimately  insensible.  It  is  contradictory,  he  urges, 
"to  assert,  a  colour  is  like  something  which  is 
invisible  ;  hard  or.  soft,  like  something  which  is 
intangible  ;  and  so  of  the  rest."  2  An  idea  of  sensa 
tion  cannot  be  like  what  is  not  an  idea  of  sensation. 
Contrariwise,  what  is  given  as~  insensible,  i.e.  matter, 
cannot  be  like  a  sensation.  "  Can  a  real  thing,"  he 
asks,  "  in  itself  invisible,  be  like  a  colour  ;  or  a  real 
thing,  which  is  not  audible,  be  like  a  sound  ?  "  3 

For  both  these  reasons  he  concludes  that  matter 
cannot  be  like  our  ideas. 

(6)  We  have  now  proved  that  (1)  matter  is  not 
perceptible,  and  (2a)  it  is  not  like  our  ideas.  But 
the  materialists  maintain  that  matter,  admitted  now 
to  be  both  imperceptible  and  unlike  ideas,  may  yet 
be^the -•cause  of  them._  With  a  view  to  examining 

1  Dialogues,  i.  417.          2  Principles,  §  8.       3  Dialogues,  i.  418. 


174  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

this  theory,  Berkeley  puts  a  clear  statement  of  it 
in  the  mouth  of  Hylas.  "  I  find  myself,"  says  Hylas, 
"  affected  with  various  ideas,  whereof  I  know  I  am 
not  the  cause  ;  neither  are  they  the  cause  of  them 
selves,  or  of  one  another,  or  capable  of  subsisting  by 
themselves,  as  being  altogether  inactive,  fleeting, 
dependent  beings.  Theybave_therefore  some  cause 
distinct  from  me  and  them  :  of  which  I  pretend  to 
know  no  more  than  that  it  is  the  cause,  of  my  ideas. 


And  this  thing,  whatever  it    e,  !««-»  imiffffe>r  "J^ 

Against  this  view  Berkeley  brings  two  criticisms. 
(i)  Matter,  he  urges,  cannot  be  a  cause  at  all.     The, 
rrm.tt.ftr  aflftiTist.  whioji  hfi  argHftS  j«  ajflrflffa 


by  him,  in  common  with  his  contemporaries,  to  be 
necessarily  and  by  definition  "inert,"  "passive," 
and  "  inactive."  And  it  is  impossible  that  what  is 
inactive  should  be  a  cause,  for  that  would  involve 


the  contradiction  in  terms  that  the  inactive  is  active, 
(ii)  But,  even  if  matter  could  be  a  cause,  it  could  not 
be  a  cause  of  ideas.  For  by  definition,  and  here 
again  he  is  following  the  consensus  of  the  time, 
matter  is  "  unthinking."  The  material  is,  in  other 
words,  exclusive  of  the  mental.  If  the  "  unthinking" 
could  be  a  cause,  it  would  be  a  cause  only  of  un 
thinking  things.  Hence  it  could  not  be  the  cause 
either  of  minds  or  of  ideas,  both  of  which  are 
"  thinking,"  in  the  sense  that  they  are  either  spirits 
or  dependent  on  spirits.2  Matter,  then,  he  con 
cludes,  being  inactive,  cannot  be  a  cause  ;  and,  being 
unthinking,  cannot  be  a  cause  of  ideas.3 

1  Dialogues,  i.  429. 

2  Note  that  ideas  are  "  thinking  "  only  in  the  sense  that  they 
are  perceived  by  thinking  spirits. 

3  Dialogues,  i.  430. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  175 

But  even  admitting  that  the  causal  theory  of 
matter,  like  those  which  we  have  already  examined, 
is  untenable,  it  is  still  open  to  the  materialist  to 
maintain  either  the  instrumental  or  the  occasional 
theories  of  matter. 

(c)  "  Though  ^matter  may  not  be  a  cause."  says 
Hylas,  "  yet  what  hinders  its  being  an  instrument, 
subservienFto  the  supreme  Agent  in  the  production 
of  our  ideas  ?  "  1     Berkeley's  answer  is  that  such  a 
material  instrument  would  be  quite  useless  to  God. 
Analysing  the  meaning  of  instrument,  he  finds  it  to 
be  something  which  we  use  to  assist  us  in  doing  those 
things  which  cannot  be  performed  by  a  mere  act  of 
will.     I  do  not  normally  employ  an  instrument  to 
move  my  finger,  because  I  can  do  that  by  simple 
volition.     But  I  use  an  instrument  to  cut  down  a 
tree,  because  I  cannot  achieve  that  result  immedi 
ately  by  a  mere  act  of  will.     Now.  evervthing-in. the 
world,  33jr^ej.ej__bejieyes^is  in  a  rejation  of  absolute 
and  immediate  dependence  on  God,  who  is  able  to 
perform  all  his  operations  in  and  on  the  world  by 
simple    volition.     And    as    God    does    not    need    a 
material    instrument    with    which    to    produce    his 
effects,   the  principle  of  parcimony  justifies  us  in 
holding  that  it  is  non-existent. 

(d)  The  criticism  of  the  occasional  view  of  matter 
follows  precisely  the  same  lines.2     He  shows  that 
an  occasion,   as  defined  by   materialism,   i.e.    "  an 
inactive,  unthinking  being,  at  the  presence  whereof 
God  excites  ideas  in  our  minds,"  is  not  needed  for 
the  fixed  and  regular  production  of  effects  by  God  ; 

1  Dialogues,  i.  431. 

2  Dialogues,  i    433-4;    cf.  Principles,  §§  68-69. 


176  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

and,  since  the  material  occasion  is  unnecessary, 
Occam's  Razor  may  be  applied  to  cut  it  away 
altogether. 

(3)  And  now  we  come  to  the  materialist's  last 
ditch.  Having  been  driven  from  all  his  previous 
positions  the  materialist  may  take  refuge  in  the 
conception  of  matter  asjan  utterly  unknown  and 
indefinable  quiddity,  wholly  without  attributes  and 
qualities.  Me  may  "  stand  to  it  that  MatteFljran 
Unknown  Somewhat — neither  substance  nor  accident, 
spirit  nor  idea — inert,  thoughtless,  indivisible,  im- 
moveable,  unextended,  existing  in  no  place."  1 

For  use  against  this  last  despairing  conception 
of  matter  Berkeley  has  still  plenty  of  shot  in  his 
locker,  (i)  He  points  out,  in  the  first  place,  that 
such  an  "  obscure  idea  of  somewhat,"  which  cannot 
be  perceived,  of  which  nothing  can  be  predicated, 
and  which  can  perform  no  function,  differs  riot  at 
all  from  nothing.*  (ii)  And,  if  the  materialists  urge 
that  matter,  as  above  defined,  gives  us  the  positive 
conception  of  quiddity,  entity,  or  existence,  Berkeley 
argues  that  this  positive  conception  is  a  mere 
abstract  idea,  and  as  such  is  open  to  all  the  criticisms 
which  he  has  already  brought  against  the  general 
theory  of  abstract  ideas.  Again,  therefore,  it  seems 
that  matter  -means  nothing*  (iii)  Further,  those 
who  maintain  this  view  constantly  assume,  in 
effect,  that  they  know  something,  however  little, 
about  matter ;  and  any  plausibility  the  theory 
possesses  springs  from  the  fact  that  its  supporters 
tacitly  presuppose  that  the  matter  which  they 
postulate  has  some  qualities,  however  indefinite,  and 

1  Principles,  §  80,         •*  Principles,  §  80.         »  Principles,  §  81. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  177 

is  thus  in  some  way  known.1  And,  Berkeley  urges, 
if  matter  exists,  it  must  either  be  known  or  unknown. 
If  it  is  absolutely  unknown,  and  there  is  no  necessity 
to  postulate  it,  we  may  safely  take  it  to  be  non 
existent.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  known,  it 
must  fall  under  one  or  other  of  the  conceptions  of 
matter  already  considered  ;  and,  as  he  believes  that 
he  has  disproved  all  these  theories,  and  that  his 
criticism  is  thus  absolutely  exhaustive,  it  follows 
that  he  regards  as  irrefutable  the  conclusion  that 
matter  is  non-existent. 

Lastly,  and  in  some  ways  this  is  Berkeley's  most 
fundamental  criticism  of  materialism,  the  conception 
of  a  material  substance  involves  a  regress  ad  infinitum. 
What  we  perceive,  e.g.  an  extended  object,  is  said 
by  the  materialists  to  rest  upon  a  material  sub 
stratum.  But  thisjnaterial  substratum  must  itself 
be  extended Jn,,order_ to >  support  the  extended  object ; 
and,  as  it  is  extended,  we  must  postulate  ano~£Ker 


material  substratum  to  support  it;  and" so  on  ad_ 
injmitum?  To  this  ™tHe~niateriaKsts  might  rejoin 
that,  though  the  material  substratum  supports 
extension,  it^is  not  itself  extended.  Berkeley's 
answer  to  this  argument  would  be  that,  if  the  view 
of  the  materialist  apologists  were  persisted  in,  it 
would  reduce  matter,  in  the  last  resort,  tojyifL.Y.ag.ue 
conceptipn  of  a  qualitiless  Somewhat  which  may  be 
shown,  as  we  have  just  seen,  to  be  indistinguishable, 
from  nothing-at-all.  • 

Throughout  this  whole  criticism  of  materialism, 
which  really  forms  the  burden  of  all  his  works, 
Berkeley  has  presupposed  two  general  canons,  which 

1  Principles,  §  16.  2  Dialogues,  i.  409. 


178  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

he  states  thus  :  (I)  "  Strictly  speaking,  to  believe 
that  which  involves  a  contradiction,  or  has  no 
meaning  in  it,  is  impossible."  l  (II)  "  It  is  to  me 
a  sufficient  reason  not  to  believe  the  existence  of 
anything,  if  I  see  no  reason  for  believing  it."  2  Apply 
ing  these  axions  to  the  problems  of  matter,  we  find 
that,  as  matter,  conceived  in  any  positive  way,  has 
been  proved  to  be  either  self-contradictory  or 
unmeaning,  it  is  impossible  ;  and  since,  when  con 
ceived  in  the  negative  form  of  "an  obscure  idea  of 
somewhat,"  there  is  no  reason  to  believe  it,  we  have 
a  sufficient  reason  for  not  believing  it.  Matter,  then, 
cannot  be  in  any  sense  the  ground  of  reality. 

But  Berkeley  is  convinced,  as  we  have  mentioned, 
that  reality  does  exist ;  and  he  must  therefore  look 
for  its  ground  elsewhere  than  in  matter.  Now,as 
existence  ^  ftitibftr  ™flitfTJftl  or  spiritual,  the  frfltf"«  -»f 
reality  must  be  found,  if  anywhere,  in  spirit  or  mind. 
The  real  significance,  for  his  own  theory,  of  the 
criticism  of  matter  lies  in  the  conclusion  that,  as 
matter  is  the  only  possible  non-spiritual  ground  of  the 
existence  of  things,  and  as  matter,  regarded  in  every 
possible  way,  has  been  shown  to  be  non-existent, 
the  only  real  ground  of  the  existence  of  things  is 
spirit. 

^According  to  Berkeley's  own  theory  of  reality,  the 
existence  of  things  depends  on  spirit  in  the  double 
sense,  (a)  of  being  perceived  by  spirit,  and  (6)  of 
being  caused  by  spirit.  We  shall  now  state,  in  detail, 
the  arguments  by  which  he  reaches  this  conclusion. 

Starting  with  the   ordinary  things   of   common 
sense,  with  which  we  come  in  contact  every  day, 
1  Principles,  §  54.  2  Dialogues,  i.  432. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  179 

Berkeley  proves  that  their  existence  consists  in  .being : 
perceived.     "  Wood,  stones,  fire,  water,  flesh,  iron,  » 
and  the  like  things,  which  I  name  and  discourse  of,  ] 
are  things  that  I  know.     And  I  should  not  have  j 
known   them   but   that,  I   perceived   them   by   my 
senses;     and   things   perceived   by   the   senses   are. 
immediately    perceived ;     and    things    immediately 
perceived  are  ideas  ;   and  ideas  cannot,  exist  without: 
the  mind  ;   their  existence  therefore  consists  in  being, 
perceived."  * 

~Tnis  conclusion  is  proved  in  detail  in  the  first  of, 
the  three  Dialogues  and  in  the  Principles.  Berkeley! 
reduces  J&a_Jibing_-tQ_Jts  component  elements,  and] 
shows  that  each  and  all  of  these  consist  in  being 
perceived.  A  thing  is  nothing  but  an  aggregate  of. 

Sensible    qna1|+if>g      nr>^,    ]f   yft   ftrflp_fftrmr   fliaf.  T|flpA   nf 

these  can  exist  apart  from  perception,  we  shall  have 
proved  that  the  existence  of  the  thing  itself  consists 
in  being  perceived. 

The  qualities  of  things  had  been  distinguished  by 
Locke,  Descartes,  and  others  into  two,  classes,  called 
respectively  primary  and  secondary.  Primary  quali 
ties  comprise  extension,  figure,  motion,  rest,  solidity, 
and  number  ;  all  others,  e.g.  colours,  tastes,  sounds, 
and  the  like  being  termed  secondary.  According  to 
the  distinction  previously  accepted,  primary  qualities 
exist  in  the  things,  though  secondary  ones  do  not ; 
so  that  a  red  billiard  ball  that  we  perceive  is  in 
itself,  apart  from  our  perception,  extended,  figured, 
solid,  and  at  rest ;  but  it  is  not  in  itself  coloured,  for 
its  colour  depends  on  perception. 

This  distinction  between  primary  and  secondary 
1  Dialogues,  i.  440. 


180  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

qualities  was  questioned  by  Berkeley^  He  agrees 
that  secondary  qualities  have  no  existence  apart  from 
perception,  but  he  maintains,  in  additiop 


exis£ence~oT  all  primary  qualities  also  consists  in 
beingj>erceived  .  All  the  arguments  "13y~  which  the 
mind-dependent  existence  of  secondary  qualities  had 
been  supported  apply  also,  in  his  judgment,  to 
primaries.  That  such  qualities  as  heat  and  cold  are 
mind-dependent  is  agreed  on  the  ground  that,  as  a 
body  may  appear  hot  to  one  hand  and  cold  to  the 
other  at  one  and  the  same  time,  and  as  it  is  self- 
contradictory  to  suppose  that  the  body  in  itself, 
apart  from  perception,  is  both  hot  and  cold  simul 
taneously,  we  must  conclude  that  these  qualities  are 
in  the  body  only  when  it  is  being  perceived.  Similarly, 
he  argues,  we  may  prove  that  such  so-called  primaries 
as  extension  and  motion  do  not  really  exist  in  the 
extended  moving  objects,  apart  from  perception. 
For  the  extension  of  one  and  the  same  object  appears 
different  to  the  same  eye  in  different  positions,  and  to 
different  eyes  in  the  same  position.  Such  variation 
in  the  extension  of  a  body  would  not  be  possible,  he 
urges,  if  the  extension  were  really  in  the  body  ;  and 
we  must  conclude^  that  its  extension,  like  its  colour^ 
Depends  on  being  perceived.  Arid,  as  what  is  true 
of  extension  is  true  also  of  all  other  so-called  primary 
qualities,  we  may  say  that  all  the  qualities  of  bodies 
are  dependent  for  their  existence  on  being  perceived  ; 
and  further,  since  things  are  nothing  but  the  collec 
tions  of  their  qualities,  they  are  thus  proved  to  be 
wholly  dependent  on  perception.1 

Now,  all  that  Berkeley  has  said  with  regard  to  the 

1  Principles,  §§  9-15  ;    Dialogues,  i.  382  ff. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  181 

variability  of  primary  and  secondary  qualities  might 
be  admitted,  and  yet  it  could  be  argued  that,  though 
qualities  are  relative  to  perception,  they  are  caused 
by  something  not  dependent  on  perception.  With 
this,  so  far,  Berkeley  agrees.  But,  he  urges,  the  real 
question  is,  Of  what  nature  is  this  cause  ?  x  Now, 
the  cause  cannot  be  material,  for  we  have  already 
proved  thaT  matter  is^jion^existent  and  impossible; 
and,  as  everything  that  is  is  either  material  or 
spiritual,  the  cause  must  be  spiritual.  The  cause  of 
the  reality  of  things  is  mind  or  spirit.2 

Thus,  it  is  "rrot  a  complete  account  l)f  the  reality 
of  things  to  say  that  their  esse  is  percipi.     We  must 
say  also  that  their  esse  consists  in  being  caused. 
Reality  consists  (a)  in  being  perceived,  (6)  in  beingj^. 
caused,  by  spirit. 

Such,  in  outline,  is  Berkeley's  doctrine  of  the 
reality__of^things.  In  order  to  fill  in  this  bare  sketch, 
it  will  be  convenient  to  consider  the  theory  in 
reference  to  three  problems  of  great  difficulty,  (1) 
the  externality  of  things,  (2)  the  permanence  of 
things,  and  (3)  the  distinction  of  Appearance  and 
Reality. - 

(1)  If  things  are  nothing  but  combinations  of 
ideas,  In  what  sense,  if  any,  are  we  justified  in 
regarding  them  as  external  ?  It  might  be  objected 
at  once  that,  on  Berkeley's  view,  all  externality 
should  be  denied  to  things,  since  they  are  always 
taken  by  him  to  be  (a)  "ideas,"  and  (6)  "in  the  mind," 
and  neither  of  these  expressions  seems  at  first  sight 
to  be  compatible  with  externality.  Let  us,  then, 
examine  what  Berkeley  means  (a)  by  calling  things 

1  Dialogues,  i.  430,  437.  *  Principles,  §  26. 


182  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

ideas,  and  (6)  by  speaking  of  their  existence  in  the 
mind. 

(a)  He  admits  that  he  is  breaking  with  convention 
in  calling  things  ideas  :  "It  sounds  very  harsh  to 
say  we  eat  and  drink  ideas."  1  But  if  we  refuse  to 
be  misled  by  words,  he  says,  and  consider  what  we 
really  mean,  we  shall  recognise  that,  as  what  we 
eat  and  drink  is  nothing  but  the  immediate  objects 
of  sense,  there  is  no  absurdity  in  saying  that  we  eat 
and  drink  ideas.  Though  he  often  conforms  to 
custom  and  speaks  of  things,  he  prefers  to  term  them 
ideas  ;  and  that  for  two  reasons.  In  the  first  place, 
the  customary  linguistic  associations  of  the  word 
thing  suggest  that  it  necessarily  denotes  "  somewhat 
existing  without  the  mind."  And  since  for  Berkeley, 
as  we  have  seen,  the  essence  of  thinghood  is  its 
existential  dependence  on  mind,  he  thinks  it  best 
to  call  things  ideas,  for  ideas  are  universally  ad 
mitted  to  be  mind-dependent.2  In  the  second  place, 
"  idea  "  denotes  more  exactly  than  "  thing  "  what 
Berkeley  means.  The  word  thing,  as  commonly 
used,  may  include  spirit  (res  cogitans)  as  well  as  the 
class  of  things  which  he  terms  ideas.  Now,  it  is 
essential  for  his  view  to  distinguish  sharply  between 
spirits  and  mere  things  (what  he  calls  ideas)  ;  and 
to  avoid  misapprehension  it  is  best,  he  avers,  to 
speak  of  spirits  and  ideas  as  the  constituents  of 
existence.3 

y  (b)  Ideas  or  non-spiritual  things  exist,  as  Berkeley 
always  says,  "  in  the  mind."  How  is  this  consistent 
with  their  externality  ?  It  must  be  pointed  out, 
in  the  first  place,  that  in  saying  that  things  exist  only 

1  Principles,  §  38.        2  Dialogues,  i.  453.        3  Principles,  §  39. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  183 

in  the  mind,  he  does  not  mean  to  suggest  that  they 
actually  have  their  locus  within  the  ego,  or  that  they 
are  particular  psychical  existents  falling  within  the 
mental  process  of  an  individual  mind.  The  phrases 
"  in  the  mind  "  and  "  without  the  mind  "  are  apt  to 
suggest  spatial  considerations,  for  they  seem  to 
indicate  that  mind  is  a  sort  of  receptacle,  "  an  empty 
casket  "  in  Locke's  terminology,  into  which  ideas 
may  or  may  not  be  put.  But  when  Berkeley  speaks 
of  mind  he  means  mind,  and  not  brain.  "  When 
I  speak  of  objects  as  existing  in  the  mind,  or  im 
printed  on  the  senses,  I  would  not  be  understood  in 
the  gross  literal  sense  ;  as  when  bodies  are  said  to 
exist  in  a  place,  or  a  seal  to  make  an  impression 
upon  wax.  My  meaning  is  only  that  the  mind 
comprehends  or  perceives  them."  l 

In  other  words,  when  we  say  that  a  thing  exists 
in  the  mind,  all  we  mean  is  that  it  exists,  not  in  the 
brain,  but  in  the  subject-object  relationship.2  The 
existence  of  things  consists  in  being  in  mind  in  the 
sense  that  they  are  in  relation  to  mind.  And  when 
he  insists  that  nothing  exists  "  without  the  mind," 
he  means  that  the  subject-object  relation  is  universal, 
and  that  nothing  can  exist  apart  from  this  relation. 
To  put  the  same  thing  otherwise,  "  without  the 
mind  "  means  sine  mente  rather  than  extra  mentem. 
"  No  mind,  no  thing  "  epitomises  Berkeley's  philo 
sophy.  Everything  in  the  world  is  necessarily,  qua 
existent,  in  the  mind-idea  or  spirit-thing  or  subject- 
object  relationship. 

So  far,  we  have  been  arguing  that  there  is  no 
reason  why  Berkeley's  idea-things  should  not  be 

1  Dialogues,  i.  470.  2  Dialogues,  i.  453  ;    cf.  i.  455. 


184  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

called  external ;  and  now  we  have  to  show,  in 
addition,  that  there  are  positive  reasons  why  they 
should  be  termed  external. 

(i)  Idea-things  may  be  regarded  as  external  in  the 
sense  that  they  are  objective.  They  fall  on  the 
objective  side  of  the  omnipresent  subject-object 
relationship  :  they  are  "  objects  of  the  under 
standing."  1  And  he  insists  that  so  far  is  he  from 
subjectifying  things  that  he  is  really  objectifying 
ideas.  "  I  am  not  for  changing  things  into  ideas," 
he  says,  "  but  rather  ideas  into  things."  2 

(ii)  Things  are  external  also  in  the  sense  that  they 

fall  outwith  the  real  personality  of  the  self.     He 

believes  that  personality  is  centred  in  the  will.     Now, 

/iny  perceptions  do  not  depend  on  my  will,  for,  when 

/vl  look  at  a  mountain  in  daylight,  if  my  sense  of 

/'vision  is  normal,   I  must  have  certain  groups  of 

sensations  and  no  others.     So  long  as  my  eyes  are 

fixed  on  the  mountain  I  cannot  help  having  these 

sensations.     Ideas,    then,    are   independent    of    my 

will,  and  therefore  external.3 

(iii)  Things  are  external  to  the  individual  per- 
X  cipient  with  respect  to  their  cause  or  origin.  A 
finite  spirit,  as  we  have  seen,  cannot  manufacture 
its  ideas  of  sense  ;  for  they  are  not  generated  by  the 
mind  itself  from  within,  "  but  imprinted  by  a  Spirit 
distinct  from  that  which  perceives  them."  4  All 
ideas  of  sense  are  caused  by  God,  and  are  thus 
external  to  the  finite  mind  which  is  aware  of  them. 

(iv)  Berkeley  even  suggests  twice 5  that,  con 
sistently  with  his  principles,  we  may  postulate  "  an 

1  Dialogues,  i.  471.       *  Dialogues,  i.  463.       *  Dialogues,  i.  458. 
4  Principles,  §  90  ;  cf.  Dialogues,  i.  470.     *  Dialogues,  i.  468,  458. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  185 

external  archetype  "  of  our  ideas.  Such  archetypes 
will  be  external  to  finite  minds,  and  exist  eternally 
in  the  mind  of  God.  They  must  be  external  to  my 
mind,  for  otherwise  they  would  not  be  archetypes  ; 
but  still  they  are  regarded  as  ideas,  and  have  their 
existence  as  Ideas  (with  a  capital)  in  God's  mind. 

(v)  Finally,  ideas  that  I  am  not  actually  perceiving 
at  thp  moment  may  be  called  by  me  external  in  the 
sense  that  they  do  not  exist  in  my  mind,  though  they 
do  exist  in  the  mind  of  God,  and  possibly  also  in  the 
minds  of  other  finite  spirits.1 

On  all  these  grounds,  then,  we  are  justified  in 
saying  that  things,  though  called  ideas  and  existing 
only  in  the  mind,  preserve  their  externality. 

(2)  But  suppose  we  admit,  it  may  be  argued,  the 
externality  of  things,  can  we  maintain  their  perma 
nence  ?  Things  may  be  external  to  the  finite  mind 
in  the  senses  enumerated  above,  and  yet  not  be 
permanent  and  self-consistent.  If  a  thing  is  not 
actually  being  perceived  by  me,  in  what  sense  does 
it  actually  exist  ?  To  this  question  Berkeley 
suggests  more  than  one  answer.2  A  thing  not 
actually  being  perceived  by  me  may  be  said  to  exist 
in  the  sense  (a)  that  if  I  were  in  a  position  to  perceive  1 
it  I  should  perceive  it,  or  (6)  that  it  is  actually  beings 
perceived  by  some  other  finite  spirit,  or  (c)  it  is  being 
constantly  perceived  by  God.  But  though  these 
grounds  of  permanence  are  all  suggested  by  Berkeley, 
he  does  not  press  the  first  two  solutions,  for  it  is 
possible  to  imagine  a  thing  in  a  position  where  it  is 
not  being  perceived  by  any  finite  spirit,  and  where 
it  could  not  be  perceived  by  any  finite  spirit ;  and 

1  Principles,  §  90.  2  Cf.  Principles,  §§  3,  6,  48. 


186  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

even  if  it  could  be  perceived  under  appropriate  con 
ditions,  it  is  self-contradictory  to  make  the  actual 
permanent  reality  of  a  thing  consist  in  the  continuous 
possibility  of  being  perceived.  In  the  end,  therefore, 
is  content  to  assert  that  the  permanence  of  things 
is  guaranteed  by  their  continuous  existence  in  the 
mind  of  God.1 

But  it  is  not  enough  that  they  should  simpty  be 
perceived  by  God.  They  must  also  be  willed  or 
caused  by  him.  It  is  only  because  things  are  not 
/produced  by  the  capricious  wills  of  finite  beings,  but 
created  in  a  fixed  and  uniform  order  by  the 
eternal  will  of  God,  that  they  are  really  self -consistent 
and  permanent. 

The  introduction  of  God's  creative  activity  gives 
rise,  however,  to  a  fresh  difficulty.  By  the  perma 
nence  of  things,  on  this  theory,  do  we  mean  anything 
more  than  the  constant  creation  by  God  of  similar 
things  ?  Do  the  same  things  really  persist,  or  is 
God  continually  in  process  of  creating  similar  things 
to  take  the  place  of  those  that  are  every  moment 
being  annihilated  ? 

In  connection  with  this  problem  Berkeley  once 
or  twice  suggests  the  Scholastic  view  that  things 
are  in  an  unending  process  of  annihilation  and 
re-creation,  and  that,  apart  from  this  "  constant 
creating,"  there  is  no  permanence.  "  There  is  a 
Mind,"  he  says,  "  which  affects  me  every  moment 
with  all  the  sensible  impressions  I  perceive."  2  When 
I  gaze  at  a  house,  the  same  house  does  not  really 
continue  to  exist,  but  God  causes  a  constant  succes 
sion  of  similar  impressions  which  affect  my  mind.3 

1  Dialogues,  i.  452.       2  Dialogues,  i.  428.       *  Principles,  §  46. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  187 

The  permanence  of  the  physical  order  is  thus 
equivalent  to  a  constant  creation  of  particulars  by  a 
benevolent  God  who  in  this  way  displays  his  power 
and  providence.1  But  though  this  doctrine  is 
suggested  by  Berkeley,  he  is  of  opinion,  on  the  whole, 
that  a  creationism  of  this  sort  is  inadequate  to 
guarantee  the  permanence  of  things. 

He  therefore  advances  what  he  regards  as  a  more 
satisfactory  theory,  and  holds  that  things  have  a 
really  and  absolutely  permanent  existence  in  the 
mind  of  God.  They  are  not  created  from  time  to, 
time  by  God  ;  they  are  created  once  and  for  all,  and 
continue  to  exist  perpetually  in  the  mind  of  God.2 
On  the  other  hand,  it  is  obvious  that  from  the  human 
standpoint  things  are  continually  perishing  and 
coming  into  being  again.  To  harmonise  these  two 
truths  (for  he  regards  them  both  as  truths)  he  has 
recourse  to  a  distinction  between  absolute  and  relative 
existence.3  "  When  things  are  said  to  begin  or  end 
their  existence,  we  do  not  mean  this  with  regard  to 
God,  but  His  creatures.  All  objects  are  eternally 
known  by  God,  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  have  an 
eternal  existence  in  His  mind :  but  when  things, 
before  imperceptible  to  creatures,  are,  by  a  decree  of 
God,  perceptible  to  them,  then  are  they  said  to  begin 
a  relative  existence,  with  respect  to  created  minds."  4 

1  Alciphron,  iv.  §  14. 

2  Berkeley  expressly   dissociates   himself   from   Malebranche's 
doctrine  of  "  Seeing  all  things  in  God,"  Dialogues,  i.  426. 

3  Berkeley    elsewhere    denies    that    things    have    an    absolute 
existence.     But  the  kind  of  absolute  existence  he  has  in  view 
there  is  existence  independent  of  God.     And  he  would  still  agree 
that  absolute  existence  in  that  sense  is  an  impossibility.     Cf. 
Principles,  §  24. 

4  Dialogue*,  i.  472. 


188 

Now,  even  if  this  distinction  between  relative  and 
absolute  existence  were  accepted,  it  would  solve  only 
one  of  Berkeley's  difficulties. 

For  the  solution  of  the  other  difficulty  he  would 
need  to  introduce  a  distinction  between  relative 
existence  and  potential  relative  existence.  The  body 
of  a  man,  for  instance,  has,  on  his  view,  a  relative 
existence.  But  it  has  this  relative  existence  only 
when  it  is  actually  being  perceived  by  man.  Berkeley 
would  have  to  say  that  its  existence  when  it  is  not 
actually  being  perceived  by  man  is  potentially 
relative.  Though  not  actually  being  perceived,  it  is 
capable  of  being  perceived.  This  potential  relative 
existence  clearly  differs  from  absolute  existence. 
Things  have  an  absolute  existence  in  the  mind  of 
God,  but  in  addition  to  this  they  have  a  relative 
existence  only  when  they  are  capable  of  being 
perceived  by  man.  When  they  are  not  actually 
being  perceived,  they  have  a  potential  relative 
existence,  and  when  they  are  being  perceived  an 
actual  relative  existence. 

>£rhe  root  of  the  whole  difficulty  is  the  assumption 
of  God  as  the  cause  of  the  permanence  and  reality 
of  the  world.  But  if  we  start,  and  on  Berkeley's 
psychological  method  we  must  start,  with  our  own 
ideas,  presentations  actually  present  to  us,  we  could 
never  have  any  reason  to  expect  them  to  exist  other 
wise  than  as  actually  presented  to  us.  And  even  if 
we  suppose  them  also  to  exist  in  the  mind  of  God, 
how  do  we  know  that  as  presentations  in  my  mind 
and  presentations  in  God's  mind  they  are  the  same  ? 
The  presumption  seems  to  be  decidedly  against  such 
an  identification.  We  know  that  the  sense-experience 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE       x/      189 


of  animals  differs  among  themselves  and  also  differs 
as  between  them  and  men.  The  actual  perceptions 
of  various  animals  vary  according  to  the  number  and 
structure  of  their  organs  of  sense.  The  dog's  world, 
for  instance,  differs  from  my  world.  As  Mr.  Bradley 
has  pointed  out,  the  dog's  judgment  is  probably 
"  What  smells  is  real."  As  the  world  of  man  differs 
from  the  world  of  the  lower  animals,  it  would  be 
natural  to  expect  that  man's  world  will  differ  from 
God's.  For,  whereas  all  our  ideas  are  sense- 
impressions,  none  of  God's  are.  "  God  perceives 
nothing  by  sense  as  we  do,"  *  for  he  cannot  be 
affected  with  any  sensation  at  all.  "  God  knows, 
or  hath  ideas  ;  but  his  ideas  are  not  conveyed  to 
him  by  sense,  as  ours  are."  2 

If,  then,  God's  ideas  differ  from  ours  so  radically,- 
what  justification  is  there  for  asserting  that  when 
an  idea  is  not  being  jperceived  by  me  it  is  being 
perceived  by  God  ?  The  it  that  is  perceived  by  God 
is  different  from  the  it  that  is  perceived  by  me.  It 
is  not  the  same  it  that  Remains  permanent.  Its 
absolute  existence  in  the  mind  of  God  is  .permanent, 
but  its  relative  existence  in  my  mind  is  a  process  of 
constant  annihilation  and  re-creation,  and  the  process 
in  my  mind  differs  from  the  processes  in  the  minds 
of  other  men  for  whom  it  exists. 

Our  criticism  of  Berkeley  might  seem  to  be,  so 
far,  on  the  merely  ; psychological  level.  But  the 
argument  cuts  deeper  than  that.  For  he  is  forced 
to  assume  ultimately  two  orders  of  existence,  which 
are  taken  to  be  in  constant  correspondence.  The 
first  order  is  the  "  archetypal  and  eternal,"  which 

1  Dialogues,  i.  459.  2  Ibid.  i.  459. 


190  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

has  existed  from  everlasting  in  the  mind  of  God,  the 
second   is  the   "  ectypal  or   natural,"   which   is  in 
process  of  constant  creation.     Now,  the  archetypal 
order  is  perceived  by  God,  but  is  imperceptible  to 
man  ;    and  the  ectypal  is  that  which  is  caused  by 
God,  and  perceived  by  finite  spirits.     Thus  we  know 
that  the  particular  things  or  ectypes  that  we  perceive 
are  caused  by  God,  but  are  not  perceived  by  him, 
though  they  correspond  with  the  archetypes  which 
he  does  perceive.     Ultimately,  then,  what  we  mear 
by  the  permanence  of  things  is  that  (a)  they  are  ir 
process  of  constant  creation  by  God  in  our  minds 
and    (6)    they    correspond    with    eternally    existen 
archetypal    Ideas    in    God's    mind.     In    this 
Berkeley  brings  together,  at  the  cost  of  introducing 
a  dualism  into  his  theory,  his  two  views  of  the  natur 
of  permanence. 

It  is  fairly  clear  that  in  the  course  of  his  argumen 
Berkeley  has  been  forced  to  change  completely  th 
meaning    of    his    fundamental    principle.     At    th 
beginning    of   his    psychological    enquiry,    "  esse 
percipi  "  means  that  presence  in  my  experience, 
long  as  it  lasts,  is  a  sufficient  account  of  the  existem 
of  a  thing.     But  the  difficulties  we  have  mentione 
have   forced   him   away   from   that   position.     Tl 
existence  of  a  thing  must  mean  more  than  me 
presentation  in  my  experience,  for  simple  expei 
ments  prove  that  it  exists   even   when   I   do   n 
perceive  it.     He  is  thus  gradually  compelled  to  ho 
that  the  existence  of  a  thing,  even  while  I  am  p* 
ceiving  it,   is  not  exhausted  by  its  presentatior 
existence    in    my    mind.     Hence,    whether    I    a 
actually  perceiving  a  thing  or  not,  esse  is  percipi 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  191 

his  first  sense  is  untrue.  If,  then,  the  dictum  is  to 
be  retained,  a  new  meaning  must  be  given  to  it. 
It  must  now  be  interpreted  to  mean  that  a  thing 
exists  really  and  completely  only  as  a  presentation 
in  God's  experience. 

From  this  alteration  in  meaning  a  sinister  con 
clusion  follows.  Since  real  existence  is  exclusively 
presentation  in  God's  experience,  presentations  in 
my  finite  mind  cannot  be  ultimately  real,  for  presen 
tation  to  finite  minds  implies  only  relative  and 
ectypal  existence.  What  finite  persons  know  is  thus 
not  real  reality  but  relative  reality.  Such  a  con 
clusion  was  extremely  unpalatable  to  Berkeley,  and 
he  never  explicitly  drew  it  himself.  But  none  the 
less  it  certainly  is  a  consequence  of  his  theory  that 
finite  persons  are  debarred  from  knowledge  of  that 
complete  and  archetypal  reality  which  is  known  to 
God  alone. 

(3)  Are  we  then  to  conclude  that  finite  persons 
can  know  nothing  but  appearance  ?  Though  this 
conclusion  seems  to  follow  from  what  we  have  just 
been  saying,  Berkeley  never  acknowledges  it.  He 
always  maintains  that  we  do  know  reality.  But 
this  reality,  it  must  be  remembered,  can  be  nothing 
more  than  ectypal  reality  ;  for  it  is  not  the  perfect 
reality  of  which  God  is  aware.  For  most  purposes 
that  reality  is  simply  left  out  of  account  by  Berkeley  ; 
and  the  distinctions  he  does  draw  between  appear 
ance  and  reality  all  imply  that  reality  means  the 
concrete  things  or  collections  of  ideas  caused  in  our 
minds  by  God. 

The  distinction  between  the  real  and  the  apparent 
is  based  on  two  principles.  In  the  first  place,  ideas 


192  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

which  are  real  things,  i.e.  presentations,  are  perceived 
with  greater  steadiness,  vividness,  order,  and 
regularity  than  those  which  are  merely  images  or 
representations.  Reality  is  distinguished  from  the 
unreal  and  apparent  by  the  vividness  and  steadiness 
with  which  it  appears  in  consciousness.  Berkeley 
admits  that  it  may  be  said  that  this  distinction 
is  merely  relative,  presentations  having  ."more 
reality "  in  them  than  representations.  /But  in 
addition  to  this  relative  ground  of  distinction  he 
mentions  one  which  is  absolute.  The  difference 
between  presentations  and  representations,  the  real 
and  the  apparent,  things  and  chimeras,  depends  on 
the  cause  of  the  ideas.  If  ideas  are  caused  by  finite 
spirits,  they  may  be  chimeras  or  fictions  of  fancy, 
and  at  the  best  are  merely  representations,  copies, 
or  images  of  the  real  thing.  Real  things  are  caused, 
not  by  finite  spirits,  but  by  the  one  Infinite  Spirit. 
Thus  the  distinction  between  the  real  and  the 
apparent  is  suggested  by  the  vividness  and  steadiness 
of  ideas,  and  is  confirmed  by  the  cause  of  ideas. 

Berkeley's  theory  of  the  existence  of  things 
involves,  it  is  clear,  a  conception  of  degrees  of  reality. 
The  mental  images  which  finite  spirits  cause  have 
less  reality  than  the  ectypal  ideas  which  finite  spirits 
perceive  and  God  causes  ;  and  the  ectypal  ideas,  in 
turn,  are  less  real  than  the  archetypal  ideas  which 
God  knows. 

So  far,  we  have  been  dealing  with  the  permanence 
and  reality  of  things  or  ideas,  and  not  of  the  spirits 
on  which  ultimately  they  depend  for  what  reality 
they  have.  But  the  conclusions  which  we  have 
reached  raise  further  problems.  Granted  that  the 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  193 

permanence  of  things  depends  on  spirits,  on  what 
does  the  permanence  of  spirits  depend,  and  in  what 
sense  are  we  justified  in  believing  in  their  reality  ? 
To  the  examination  of  this  question  (it  is  the  culmi 
nating  point  of  our  enquiry)  we  now  proceed. 


IV.  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  SPIRITS 

In  order  to  account  for  the  permanence  and  reality 
of  the  physical  world  Berkeley  assumes  the  existence 
of  spirits.  He  does  not  strictly  prove  their  existence, 
and  the  arguments  he  does  advance  show  that  an 
explicit  proof  would  proceed  on  different  lines, 
according  as  the  existence  to  be  established  is  my 
own,  that  of  other  finite  selves,  or  that  of  the  Infinite 
Spirit. 

My  own  existence,  he  holds,  requires  no  proof, 
for  I  am  intuitively  aware  of  it :  "  We  comprehend 
our  own  existence  by  inward  feeling."  1  In  two 
ways  our  own  immediate  experience  guarantees  the 
existence  of  the  self.  In  the  first  place,  I  am  im 
mediately  aware  of  the  existence  of  my  ideas  of  sense 
as  mine.  I  know  that  I  do  not  cause  them,  but  I 
know  that  it  is  I  who  perceive  them.2  Again,  I  have 
an  immediate  feeling-consciousness  of  activity,  for 
I  know  that  (a)  I  cause  my  mental  images,  and  (6)  I 
exercise  productive  operations,  by  means  of  volition, 
in  the  world.  My  own  experience,  then,  both  per 
ceptual  and  volitional,  assures  me  of  the  existence 
of  my  self  immediately. 

The  existence  of  other  spirits,  on  the  other  hand, 

1  Principles,  §  89.  *  Dialogues,  i,  447. 

B.P.  N 


194  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

whether  finite  or  infinite,  is  not  immediately  evident, 
but  is  an  inference  from  experience.  The  general 
lines  of  the  argument  for  the  infinite  spirit  and  for 
finite  spirits  are  very  similar  ;  but  there  are  certain 
significant  differences  which  render  it  advisable  to 
consider  them  separately. 

The  argument  in  favour  of "  the  existence  of  an 
infinite  spirit  as  the  cause  of  ou?,  ideas  is  outlined  by 
Berkeley  in  the  Principles*  and  may  be  more 
systematically  restated  thus  :  (1)  I  am  immediately 
aware  of  a  continual  succession  of  ideas.  (2)  There 
must  be  some  cause  of  these  ideas.  (3)  Nowx_a 
priori,  there  are  three  and  only  three  conceivable 
causes  of  an  .idea,  viz.  another  idea,  matter,  and 
spirit.  (4)  But  he  has  shown  that  matter  does  not 
exist,  therefore  it  cannot  be  the  cause_of  ideas. 
(5)  Ideas,  for  their  part,  are  necessarily  inert  and 
passive,  and  therefore  cannot  cause  ideas.  (6)  There 
fore  the  cause  of  ideas  must  be  spirit,  either  finite  or 
infinite.  (7)  Now,  finite  spirits  cannot  cause  ideas 
of  sense,  for  these  are  passively  received,  independent 
of  our  volition.  (8)  The  cause  of  ideas  of  sense  is 
therefore  an  infinite  spirit.  (9)  And  the  regularity, 
harmony,  and  order  of  the  created  world  proves  that 
there  is  only  one  infinite  spirit,  i.e.  God.2 

'§26. 

2  Berkeley  has  also  another  proof,  based  not  on  causation, 
but  on  perception.  It  is  stated  briefly  in  the  Dialogues  as 
follows  :  "  Sensible  things  do  really  exist ;  and,  if  they  really 
exist,  they  are  necessarily  perceived  by  an  infinite  mind  ;  there 
fore  there  is  an  infinite  Mind,  or  God"  (i.  425).  This  argument 
comes  perilously  near  a  circulus  in  probando.  We  prove  the 
existence  of  God  by  inference  from  the  reality  of  things  ;  and 
then  we  use  the  existence  of  God  to  prove  the  reality  and  per 
manence  of  things. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  195 

The  inference  of  the  existence  of  finite  spirits  other 
than-  myself  is  made  on  somewhat  different  lines. 
It  also  starts  from  my  own  immediate  experience, 
but,  whereas  the  proof  of  God's  existence  depends,  in 
one  of  its  links,  on  the  passivity  of  finite  spirits  in 
receiving  ideas  of  sense,  the  proof  of  the  existence  of 
finite  spirits  is  based  on  their  activity  in  exciting 
ideas.  Finite  spirits  are  passive  in  immediate  sense- 
experience,  because  ideas  of  sense  are  perceived  in 
spite  of  ourselves,  being  created  by  God  and  by  him 
impressed  on  our  minds.  But  though  finite  spirits 
cannot  create  presentations,  they  can  under  appro 
priate  circumstances  excite  them,  and  in  addition 
they  can  cause  representations  or  mental  images.  In 
sum,  finite  spirits  are  (1)  passive  in  receiving  presen 
tations,  but  (2)  active  in  (a)  creating  representations, 
and  (6)  exciting  presentations. 

Now,  we  cannot  infer  the  existence  of  finite  spirits 
from  their  passivity  in  perception.  Nor  can  we 
infer  it  from  their  activity  in  creating  representations, 
for  these  images  are  private  and  qua  images  incom 
municable.  The  existence  of  other  spirits  is  inferred 
from  their  productive  activity  in  exciting  presenta 
tions  in  my  mind.  I  am  immediately  aware  of  my 
own  activity  in  operating  and  producing  effects  in 
the  world,  and  when  I  see  effects  similar  to  those 
which  I  could  have  produced,  I  infer  that  they  were 
produced  by  some  other  finite  spirit.1  Berkeley's 
meaning  is  very  simple.  I  make  a  box.  When  I 
look  at  it,  a  certain  presentation  is  in  or  before  my 
mind.  This  presentation  is  ultimately  caused  by 
God,  but  the  box  which  I  have  made  is  in  some  way 

1  Principles,  §  145. 


196  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

the  occasion  of  it.1  Now,  if  a  presentation  similar 
to  the  one  which  I  have  when  I  look  at  the  box  that 
I  have  made  is  excited  in  my  mind  at  another  time 
and  place,  I  infer  that  its  occasion  is  a  box  similar 
to  the  one  made  by  me.  Now,  as  I  did  not  make 
this  box  myself,  I  infer  that  it  was  made  by  some 
finite  spirit  like  myself.  Other  finite  spirits  therefore 
exist. 

The  general  characteristic  of  spirit,  whether  finite 
or  infinite,  is  its  activity.  It  is  the  activity  of  spirit 
that  cuts  it  off  with  a  hatchet  from  ideas.  "  All  the 
unthinking  objects  of  the  mind  agree  in  that  they 
are  entirely  passive,  .  .  .  whereas  a.  soul  or  spirit  is 
an  active  being."  A  spirit  is  an  active  principle 
of  motion  and  change.  The  essence  of  spirit  is 
activity. 

This  proof  of  the  existence  of  spirits  has  been 
criticised,  e.g.  by  Hume,  on  tfre  ground  that  it  is 
logically  on  the  same  level  as  the  materialist  proof  of 
matter  ;  and  that,  as  matter  has  been  disproved  by 
Berkeley,  he  has  no  right  to  use  the  same  type  of 
proof  to  establish  the  existence  of  spirits.  Spiritual 
substance,  it  may  be  argued,  is  no  more  secure  from 
his  criticisms  than  material  substance  ;  and  if  we 
accept  his  conclusions  with  regard  to  material 
substance,  it  must  follow  that  spiritual  substance 
also  is  impossible.  This,  in  effect,  is  the  criticism 
of  Berkeley's  theory  of  spirits  that  Hume  ad 
vanced  ;  but  his  objections  were  anticipated 
and  answered  by  Berkeley  himself  in  an  im- 

1  This  argument  is  inconsistent  with  Berkeley's  criticism  of 
the  "  occasional  "  theory  of  matter.     Vide  supra,  p.  175.' 

2  Principles,  §  139. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  197 

portant  passage  in  the  third  edition  of  the  Dia 
logues* 

He  draws  attention,  in  the  first  place,  to  his  reason 
for  rejecting  matter.  He  has  denied  matter,  he 
reminds  us,  not  because  we  have  no  idea  of  it,  but 
because  the  conception-  of  it  is  inconsistent.  On  the 
other  hand,  though  we  can  have  no  idea  of  spirit 
either,  there  is  nothing  "  repugnant  "  in  its  con 
ception.  Matter,  in  other  words,  has  been  rejected 
because  it  involves  an  ultimate  contradiction  in  its 
nature  ;  but  since  there  is  nothing  inconsistent  in 
the  definition  of  spirit,  no  reason  exists  for  its 
rejection. 

Spirit  differs  from  matter,  in  the  second  place,  with 
respect  to  its  necessity.  There  is  no  reason  to 
believe  that  matter  exists  ;  and  therefore,  in  accord 
ance  with  the  general  canon  which  he  has  already 
laid  down,2  we  are  justified  in  assuming  that  it  does 
not  exist.  But  with  spirit  the  case  is  different,  for 
the  whole  of  experience  depends  on  the  existence  of 
spirit,  and  as  we  cannot  suppose  that  the  sum-total 
of  our  experience  is  illusory,  we  are  forced  to  main 
tain  the  existence  of  spirit. 

On  these  grounds,  then,  he  argues  that  his  con- 

•      <-? 

ception  of  spirit  is  not  open  to  the  criticisms  which 
he  has  brought  against  matter ;  and  therefore  we  may 
perfectly  consistently  reject  matter  and  admit  spirit. 
In  connection  with  the  theory  of  spirits  two 
important  problems  arise  with  regard  to  (1)  the 
identity  and  permanence  of  spirits,  and  (2)  their 
degrees  of  reality.  These  two  problems  must  now 
be  investigated. 

1  i.  449-451.  2  Cf.  supra,  p.  178. 


198  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

(1)  From  the  very  first,  the  problem  of  personal 
identity  puzzled  Berkeley  greatly.  In  the  Common 
place  Book  we  find  the  following  entry  :  "  Mem. 
Carefully  to  omit  defining  of  person,  or  making  much 
mention  of  it."  l  This  memorandum  he  bore  in 
mind  all  his  life  ;  he  always  assumes  that  we  are 
immediately  aware  of  personal  identity,  and  if  we 
did  not  have  the  Commonplace  Book  we  could  never 
guess  from  his  published  works  that  he  appreciated 
the  difficulties  of  the  problem.  In  the  Principles 
and  Dialogues  he  always  writes  as  though  perfectly 
convinced  that  personality  implies  a  unity  over  and 
above  the  person's  ideas  and  volitions.  In  addition 
to  ideas,  "  there  is  Something  which  knows  or  per 
ceives  them  ;  and  exercises  divers  operations  .  .  . 
about  them."  2  "  /  myself  am  not  my  ideas,  but  some 
what  else,  a  thinking,  active  principle  that  perceives, 
knows,  wills,  and  operates  about  ideas."  3 

Such  phrases  as  these  sound  very  dogmatic  ;  but 
the  Commonplace  Book  allows  us  to  see  that  when  he 
wrote  these  words  he  had  already  passed  through  a 
scepticism  as  absolute  as  that  which  Hume  after 
wards  reached.  It  is  clear  from  the  Commonplace 
Book  that  at  one  time  he  was  inclined  to  analyse 
personality  away  into  ideas.  "  Mind,"  he  says, 
"is  a  congeries  of  perceptions.  Take  away  per 
ceptions,  and  you  take  away  the  mind.  Put  the 
perceptions,  and  you  put  the  mind."  4  Had  he 
finally  acquiesced  in  this  view,  his  doctrine  would 
have  become  a  pure  phenomenalism,  akin  to  that 
of  Hume  and  his  followers,  according  to  which  the 

1  i.  41.  2  Principles,  §2.  3  Dialogues,  i.  450. 

4  Commonplace  Boole,  i.  27-28. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  199 

only. objects  known  to  exist  are  passing  sensations, 
of  which  we  can  say  neither  that  they  are  qualities 
of  a  permanent  thing,  nor  that  they  are  states  of  a 
permanent  subject.  In  such  a  view  as  that  Berkeley 
could  not  rest.  He  therefore  tried  to  escape  by 
showing  that,  in  inner  experience  at  least,  there  is 
something  which  is  lost  sight  of  when  we  analyse 
experience  into  a  mere  succession  of  ideas  ;  and  this 
element,  which  is  the  feeling-consciousness  of 
activity,  guarantees  the  existence  of  personality. 
"  Substance  of  a  spirit  is  that  it  acts,  causes,  wills, 
operates,  or  if  you  please  (to  avoid  the  quibble  that 
may  be  made  of  the  word  "  it  "),  to  act,  cause,  will, 
operate."  1 

So  far,  he  is  not  convinced  of  the  existence  of 
personality  as  an  entity  distinct  from  isolated  acts 
of  volition  or  cognition  ;  but  further  meditation  on 
the  importance  of  the  activity  of  spirit  forces  him 
to  the  conclusion  that  personality  does  possess  an 
identity  over  and  above  the  mere  succession  of  ideas 
and  volitions. 

Personal  identity  is  connected,  he  believes,  more 
closely  with  conative  experience  than  with  cognitive. 
"  Wherein  consists  identity  of  person  ?  "  he  asks  ; 
and  replies,  "  Not  in  actual  consciousness  ;  for  then 
I'm  not  the  same  person  I  was  this  day  twelvemonth, 
but  while  I  think  of  what  I  then  did."  2  Thinking, 
then,  only  partly  constitutes  identity  of  personality, 
inasmuch  as  it  is  only  as  I  reflect  on  the  experience 
I  had  a  year  ago  that  I  recognise  my  identity  with 
what  I  then  was.  And  this  is  not  the  whole  truth 
about  personality.  Again,  he  does  not  believe  that 

1  Commonplace  Book,  i.  53.          2  Commonplace  Book,  i.  72. 


200  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

it  is  a  sufficient  account  of  the  self -identity  of  spirits 
to  say  that  their  esse  is  percipere.  He  certainly  did 
believe  at  one  time  that  the  esse  of  the  physical 
order  is  merely  per  dpi.  But  from  the  first  he  saw 
that  the  esse  of  spirits  is  more  complex.  It  was 
impossible  for  him  to  hold  that  the  existence  of 
spirits  is  percipere  and  nothing  but  percipere,  for  the 
attitude  of  percipere  is  not  active  in  sense-perception, 
but  only  in  imagination,  and,  as  he  consistently 
maintains,  the  essential  characteristic  of  spirit  is  its 
activity.  Hence,  as  the  activity  of  spirit  is  what 
really  constitutes  its  existence,  it  is  improbable  that 
its  self-identity  will  consist  in  one  aspect  of  its 
existence  which  manifests  its  activity  only  very 
imperfectly.  The  activity  of  spirit,  he  holds,  may 
take  the  two  forms  of  knowing  and  willing.1  Now, 
whereas  in  knowing  the  self  is  not  wholly  active,  in 
willing  it  displays  complete  activity  ;  and  Berkeley 
accordingly  maintains  that  its  self-identity  consists 
chiefly  in  the  will. 

What,  then,  is  the  will  ?  Berkeley's  doctrine  of 
volition  was  to  have  been  developed  in  Part  II. 
of  the  Principles*  along  with  the  general  theory  of 
spirit ;  and  as  it  is,  we  have  only  suggestions  towards 
a  doctrine.  The  first  and  most  important  point  is 
that  the  will  is  not  a  separate  faculty.  On  his  view, 

1  "  A    spirit    is    one    simple,    undivided,    active    being — as    it 
perceives  ideas  it  is  called  the  understanding,  and  as  it  produces 
or  otherwise  operates  about  them  it  is  called  the  will. ' '    (Principles, 
§27.) 

2  Berkeley  says  of  will  in  the  Commonplace  Book,   ' '  Regard 
must  not  be  had  to  its  existence  at  least  in  the  first  book  " 
[sc.  of  the  Principles}  (i.  49).      (The  form  in  which  this  entry  is 
printed   in   the    Oxford   edition   is   erroneous.     See   Lorenz   in 
Archiv.  f.  Gesch.  d.  Phil,  xviii,  555.) 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  201 

faculties  are  vicious  abstractions,  and  all  he  means 
by  the  will  is  spirit  as  willing.  In  the  attitude  of 
willing  spirit  is  active  and  causative,  exercising  a 
real  productivity  in  the  world.  We  are  immediately 
aware  of  our  ability  to  cause  or  construct  mental 
images,  and  to  produce  bodily  movements.  Further, 
in  willing  we  are  self -determining  :  "  Folly,"  he 
says,  "  to  inquire  what  determines  the  will."  l  It 
is  folly  because,  since  will  contains  within  itself  the 
principle  of  action  and  movement,  it  is  obviously 
self-determining.  And  as  the  will  is  merely  one 
aspect  of  the  spirit,  the  activity  of  the  will  is  present 
in  all  the  experience  of  a  finite  spirit.  Presenta 
tional  experience  as  such  is  not,  it  is  true,  active  ; 
but,  inasmuch  as  it  is  the  experience  of  a  spirit,  it  is 
accompanied  by  or  pervaded  with  volitional  activity. 
:;  While  I  exist  or  have  any  idea,  I  am  eternally, 
constantly  willing  ;  my  acquiescing  in  the  present 
state  is  willing."  2  For  him,  willing  is  thus  simply 
the  conative  or  active  aspect  of  experience  ;  and, 
as  activity  is  the  most  fundamental  characteristic  of 
spirit,  the  will  is  the  most  fundamental  aspect  of  the 
unity  of  the  mind. 

It  is  willing,  then,  rather  than  knowing  that  con 
stitutes  personal  identity.  Berkeley  answers  in  the 
affirmative  the  question  which  he  asks  himself, 
''  Whether  identity  of  person  consists  not  in  the 
will  ?  "  3  The  ultimate  unity  of  personality  resides 
in  the  will. 

In  the  Principles  this  position  (to  which  he  has 
attained  by  passing  through  a  scepticism  as  absolute 

1  Commonplace  Book,  i.  34.         2  Commonplace  Book,  i.  49. 
3  Commonplace  Book,  i.  72. 


202  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

as  Hume's)  is  everywhere  assumed  without  question. 
Personality  is  a  unity,  which,  as  cognitive,  is  called 
Understanding,  and,  as  conative,  Will.  But  will 
and  understanding  are  simply  names  for  the  opera 
tions  of  the  self  in  different  aspects  of  its  life.  A  self 
is  a  single  unity,  which  is  responsible  for  its  operations 
in  all  their  diversity.1  He  emphasises  the  unity  of 
the  self,  as  opposed  to  the  variety  of  its  ideas  ;  and 
its  permanence,  as  contrasted  with  the  transitoriness 
of  its  ideas.  The  identity  of  the  self  is  implied  in 
the  regular  epithets  "  simple  "  and  "  indivisible  "  ; 
and  the  retention  of  the  category  of  substance  in 
connection  with  spirits  has  at  least  the  merit  of 
laying  stress  on  their  permanence. 

The  existence  and  permanence  of  other  finite/ 
spirits  is,  on  Berkeley's  view,  an  inference  from  my 
own  existence  and  permanence.  Their  existence  isj 
as  inferential,  less  certain  than  my  own  ;  and  much 
less  certain  than  God's.  But  he  does  not  waver  in 
his  belief  that  other  selves  have  a  permanent 
embodied  existence  like  his  own.  I  am  one  and  the 
same  self,  and  I  have  a  body  which  I  use  in  my 
operations  on  the  physical  order.  In  one  aspect  my 
own  body  is  a  cluster  of  sensations  for  me,  and  a 
combination  of  presentations  for  others  ;  but  it  is 
more  than  this,  for  it  gives  rise  to  the  unique  feeling- 
experience  of  purposive  activity.  Similarly,  in  one 
aspect,  the  bodies  of  my  fellow-men  are  complexes 
of  sensations  to  them  and  congeries  of  presentations 
for  me  ;  but  they  are  not  merely  this.  His  practical 
interest  in  life  prevented  him  from  saying  that  other 
human  beings  are  merely  clusters  of  perceptions 

1  Principles,  §  27. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  203 

suggested  to  me  in  a  fixed  order.  Such  a  view 
would  render  impossible  all  social  and  ethical  rela 
tions.  He  infers  that  as  my  self  appears  to  others 
simply  as  a  presentational  complex,  so  other  pre 
sentational  complexes  or  selves,  which  to  me  appear 
simply  as  presentational  complexes,  have  the  same 
immediate  feeling  of  personal  identity  as  I  have. 
But  this  is  an  inference,  from  my  own  experience. 

This  view  that  the  existence  of  our  fellow-men  as 
identical  and  permanent  selves  is  known  only  by 
analogy  from  our  conviction  of  our  own  existence  is 
saved  from  some  of  the  criticisms  that  have  been 
brought  against  more  modern  restatements  of  it, 
e.g.  by  Avenarius,  by  Berkeley's  insistence  that  the 
inference  is  made  on  the  basis  of  the  evidence  of  the 
activity  of  selves.  I  am  conscious  of  my  own 
activity,  and  I  can  see  the  products  of  that  activity. 
From  my  observation  of  similar  products,  which  I 
know  I  did  not  make  myself,  I  infer  the  agency  of 
active  beings  similar  to  myself.  This  argument  is 
not  open  to  the  criticisms  that  may  be  brought 
against  the  cruder  type  of  analogical  proof.1  But 
it  seems  fairly  clear  that  the  analogical  argument  in 
general,  and  therefore  Berkeley's  version  of  it,  rests 
on  an  unjustifiable  assumption.  It  is  assumed,  on 
the  analogical  argument,  that  we  attain  a  full 
consciousness  of  our  own  selfhood  in  isolation  from, 
and  independence  of,  other  human  beings.  But  this 
assumption  is  psychologically  false.  Our  awareness 
of  our  own  selves  and  of  other  selves  develops  con 
currently.  From  our  earliest  days  we  exist  in  a 
society  ;  and  only  as  our  own  inchoate  purposes 

1  Cf.  A.  E.  Taylor,  Elements  of  Metaphysics,  p.  204  ff. 


204  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

partly  coincide  with,  and  partly  conflict  with,  other 
purposes,  do  we  become  fully  aware  that  our  purposes 
are  ours.  Our  awareness  of  our  own  and  of  others' 
identity  shows  a  wonderful  parallel  evolution.1 

(2)  So  far,  in  dealing  with  the  permanence  and 
self -identity  of  spirits,  we  have  not  considered  them, 
in  relation  to  one  another,  with  respect  to  the  grades 
of  reality  which  they  occupy.  A  conception  of 
grades  of  reality  is  implied,  as  we  have  already  seen, 
in  Berkeley's  view  of  the  world  ;  and  we  must  now 
examine  how  far  his  theory  of  spirits  harmonises 
with  it. 

For  Berkeley,  the  world  consists,  as  we  have  seen, 
of  spirits  and  ideas.  But  ideas  are  entirely  dependent, 
if  they  are  presentations,  on  God  ;  and  if  they  are 
representations,  on  finite  spirits.  Thus  spirits  alone 
have  an  independent  existence,  and  accordingly, 
seeing  that  the  reality  of  things  is  relative  to  that 
of  spirits,  a  doctrine  of  grades  of  reality  will  have 
reference  mainly  to  spirits.  Is  it  possible  to  classify 
spirits  according  to  their  degrees  of  reality,  or  are 
all  spirits  equally  and  completely  real  ? 

In  Berkeley's,  all-spiritual  universe  spirits  ..differ 
in  the  degree  of  their  reality,  the  gradation  being 
conceived  in  terms  of  activity.  God  is  pure  activity, 
and  is  thus  completely  and  ultimately  real.  Finite 
spirits  are  active,  inasmuch  as  they  will,  operate  in 
the  world,  and  cause  representations  ;  but,  since 
they  can  create  neither  selves  nor  presentations, 
their  activity  is  inferior  to  God's  ;  and,  as  percipient 
of  presentations  created  l>y  God,  their  nature  in 
cludes  the  element  of  passivity,  which  is  entirely 

1  Cf .  Broder  Christiansen,   Vom  Selbstbewusstsein,  p.  2  9  ff . 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  205 

absent  from  God.  Thus,  as  (a)  incompletely  active, 
and  (6)  partially  passive,  finite  persons  are  less  real 
than  God  ;  and  they  may  be  considered  to  occupy 
a  position  intermediate  between  God  and  things. 
Least  real  of  all,  possessing,  indeed,  only  relative  and 
dependent  reality,  come  things  or  ideas.  These  are 
entirely  inactive  ;  their  nature  is  wholly  passive 
and  inert.  Thus,  any  reality  that  may  be  ascribed 
to  things  is  merely  a  courtesy-title  :  they  are  real 
only  by  the  grace  of  God. 

Berkeley's  metaphysic,  then,  comes  in  the  end  to 
be  a  hierarchic  pampsychism.  His  doctrine  is  not 
really  solipsistic,  for  he  explicitly  holds  (a)  that  the 
world  contains,  in  addition  to  me  and  my  ideas, 
other  finite  spirits  with  their  ideas,  and  (6)  that  I  am 
not  the  source  of  my  presentations,  but  am  dependent 
for  them  on  God,  who  causes  them  to  occur  in  a  fixed 
and  regular  order.  But,  since  what  really  exists  is 
nothing  but  a  hierarchy  of  spirits,  the  doctrine  is 
necessarily  a  pampsychism. 

V.  CAUSATION 
As  therealit     of  the     hvsical 


an 


indispensable  r6(3  n  Becketey^g  jjpppryjrf  causation. 
Berkeley  'f  viffSF  <a  existence  involves,"^  as*~wehave 
seen,  a  conception  of  three  degrees  of  reality.  In 
precisely  the  same  way  his  theory  of  causation 
implies  three  types  of  causes,  differing  in  the  extent 
and  power  of  their  operation.  As  G 
real^sj^jts^cjimpietely  tea^  ,anc[ 
in  a  derivative  sense,  so  God  is  the  only  complete 

^s*ts^uJ^r^^*^i^^^^^^M^^'*"*~  ^^-^          t  t       ^^  .....  <     h  1  1  i  i|_i  ~        ~^« 


206  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

and  real  cause,  spirits  being  incompletely  causal,  and 
tilings  exercising  a  merely  derivative  causality,  which, 
indeed,  can  be  called  causality  only  by  courtesy. 
This  conception  of  degrees  of  causality  must  now  be 
examined. 

In  accordance  with  the  whole  trend  and  spirit 
of  Berkeley's  philosophy,  GnH  is  ^flajflflfij  HIP  -*^A 
supreme  .and  fundamental  cause.  Jt  is  God  who 


produces  every  effect  by  a  fiat  or  act  of  his  will." 
But  God  does  not  simply  create  the  world  of  things 
aixd  then  leave  it  to  go  by  itself  like  a  clock  that,  havS 
been^j^ound  up  to_g^jOT_acerta^  Yet 

Berkeley  allows  that,  if  we  really  understand 
what  we  mean,  we  may  speak  of  "  the  clockwork  of 
Nature."1  What  we  mean  by  this  is  that  j3  very 
event  that  occurs  .in  the  physicalx>rj^r  jg  Jhe  direct 
result  of  God's  volition.  It  is  God's  good  will  that 
the  successions  of  events  should  follow  -one^another 
ui_a  fixed  and  harmonious  order.  But  the  fact 
remains  that  every  fiat  of  Trod's  will  is  entirely 
arbitrary  ;  and  that,  just  as  we  may  call  up  any 
image  at  will,  so  Qod  CJJJQ  jjau^^aii^^y^nj^a^^ill. 
At  any  moment,  God  may  depart  from  the  order 
which  he  normally  maintains.  That  he  does  not, 
in  general,  perform  miracles,  is  due  to  his  desire  to 
enable  us  to  regulate  our  actions  for  the  benefit  of 
life  ;  for  unless  events  occurred  in  a  fixed  and 
uniform  sequence,  "  we  should  be  eternally  at  a  loss  : 
we  could  not  know  how  to  act  anything  that  might 
procure  us  the  least  pleasure,  or  remove  the  least 
pain  of  sense."  2 

1  Principles,  §  60. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  207 


^ 

it  --is.,  entirely  d,epen^nt  ,pn,.  the  gja.ce.of 
though   not    capricious. 


as  an-  omnipresent,  infinitely  active  spirit.  It  is  as 
essential  to  maintairi  the  conservation  of  nature  as 
its.  creation.;  and  Berkeley  concludes  "  that  all  things 
necessarily  depend  on  Him  as  their  Conservator  as 
well  as  Creator,  and  that  all  nature  would  shrink 
to  nothing,  if  not  upheld  and  preserved  in  being  by 
the  same  force  that  first  created  it."  1 

In  addition  to  God,  Berkeley  admits  two  other 
sorts  of  cause.     BuLjaist^S-fitesMft^feW 


^ 

reality-~oi.  finite  spirits  is^  derivative  and  imperfect, 
so  _ia...  their  causality.  Thus  Berkeley  recognises 
"  spiritsiofaSerent  orders,  which  may  be  termed 
active  causes,  as  acting  indeed  though  by  limited 
and  derivative  powers."  2  The  causality  of  spirits 
manifests  itself  in  two  main  forms.  They  are 
capable  of  creating  images,  and  they  are  able,  at 
least  to  a  limited  extent,  to  produce  motions  in  their 
own  bodies,  in  other  persons'  bodies,  and  in  things. 
But  compared  with  God's  causality,  the  powers  of 
finite  spirits  are  doubly  limited,  inasmuch  as  their 
ability  to  produce  motions  in  the  physical  order  is 
imperfect,  and  they  are  impotent  to  create  either 
selves  or  things.3 

When  we  consider  the  causality  of  things,  we  find 
that,  precisely  as  things,  being  passive  and  inert, 
are  denied  the  name  reality  in  a  full  and  proper  sense, 

1  Letter  to  Johnson,  ii.  16,  17.          *  Letter  to  Johnson,  ii.  16. 
3  Three  Dialogues,  i.  431. 


208  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

so  they  cannot  properly  be  causey.  It  is,  indeed,  a 
contradiction  that  a  thing  totally  devoid  of  activity 
should  be  a  cause.  Berkeley  therefore  denies  that, 
strictly,  there  is  such  a  thing  as  natural  causality. 
He  finds  no  difficulty  in  disproving  the  contem 
porary  Corpuscularian  hypothesis,  on  the  ground 
that  as  corpuscles  are,  qua  ideas,  passive  and  inert, 
no  possible  combination  of  them,  in  extension, 
figure,  or  motion,  could  possibly  be  a  cause.1  Nature 
in  Berkeley's  sense  of  "  the  visible  series  of  effects 
or  sensations  imprinted  on  our  minds,  according  to 
certain  fixed  and  general  laws,"  cannot  produce 
anything  at  all.2  Nature  is  passive,  and  therefore 
cannot  be  a  cause.  The  belief  that  there  are  real 
natural  causes  arises  from  an  erroneous  analysis  of 
our  own  immediate  experience.  We  are  immedi 
ately  aware  of  a  uniform  succession  of  presentations 
in  our  experience  ;  we  know,  further,  that  we  did 
not  cause  them  ;  and  we  hastily  infer  that  they  must 
cause  one  another.  But  Berkeley  points  out,  as 
Hume  did  later,  that  all  we  actually  perceive  is  the 
uniform  succession  of  our  presentations.  The  infer 
ences  that  the  connection  between  them  is  necessary, 
and  that  one  can  be  the  cause  of  another,  areTboth 
alike  false.  The  only  ultimate  cause  is  God,  and 
though  his  causality  issues  in  "  a  consistent  uniform 
working,"  it  implies  no  necessary  connection  between 
things.  "  There  is  nothing  necessary  or  essential  in 
the  case."  3 

The  relation  between  cause  and  effect  is  thus  a 
purely  arbitrary  one.  Cause  and  effect  are  con 
nected  by  no  necessary  tie  ;  they  bear  to  one  another 

*  Principle?,  §  25.  2  Ibid.  §  150.  3  Ibid.  §  106. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  209 

merely  the  relation  of  sign  and  thing  signified.  By 
experience  we  learn  that  such  and  such  ideas  are 
followed  or  attended  by  such  and  such  other  ideas  ; 
certain  sequences  and  concurrences  occur  regularly 
and  uniformly.  The  preceding  ideas  are  not, 
Berkeley  avers,  the  causes  of  the  subsequent  ideas  ; 
they  are  merely  the  signs  that  warn  us  that  they  will 
be  followed  by  certain  other  ideas.  Thus  Berkeley's 
theory  of  causality  becomes  a  doctrine  of  signs.1 

The  doctrine  of  signs  occupies  a  highly  significant 
place  in  Berkeley's  philosophy.  "  I  am  inclined," 
he  says,  "to  think  the  doctrine  of  Signs  a  point  of 
great  importance,  and  general  extent,  which,  if  duly 
considered,  would  cast  no  small  light  upon  Things, 
and  afford  a  just  and  genuine  solution  of  many 
difficulties."  2  The  part  which  signs  play  in  dis 
charging  the  functions  of  universality  in  Berkeley's 
philosophy  has  already  been  explained,  and  we  have 
indicated  the  logical  weaknesses  of  the  theory.3  We 
have  now  to  estimate  the  importance  of  the  doctrine 
of  signs  in  Berkeley's  philosophy  of  causation. 

Although  the  importance  of  the  doctrine  of  signs 
has  been  very  generally  recognised,  it  has  never  been 
made  clear,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  that  the  use  of  signs 
in  mathematics  did  much  to  suggest  to  Berkeley, 
or  at  least  to  confirm  his  belief  in,  the  importance 
of  a  metaphysical  theory  of  signs.  This  point  is 
important  from  the  historical  standpoint — so  im- 

1  In   Locke's   classification    of   the   sciences  (Essay,  iv.   xxi.) 
the  third  division    of  knowledge  is  termed  "  S^eiam/cr;,  or  the 
doctrine  of  signs."     But  by  this  Locke  means  little  more  than 
logic  ;    and  on  this  account   Berkeley  is  indebted  to  him  only 
for  the  name. 

2  Alciphron,  ii.  343.  3  Vide  supra,  p.  133. 
B.P.                                             o 


210  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

portant  as  to  justify  a  digression  of  some  length,  in 
order  to  explain  how  the  value  of  signs  in  mathe 
matics  impressed  Berkeley. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  Berkeley's  great 
object,  as  he  tells  us  again  and  again,  is  to  simplify 
philosophy,  and  abridge  the  labour  of  study.  Now, 
in  mathematics  it  is  the  great  function  of  signs  to 
abridge  the  labour  of  study  and  to  simplify  methods 
and  explanations.  This  function  of  signs  is  apt  to 
be  overlooked  by  us,  for  we  take  the  use  of  signs  in 
mathematics  simply  as  a  matter  of  course.  We 
could  not  conceive  mathematics  without  the  use  of 
signs.  But  in  Berkeley's  day  the  extended  employ 
ment  of  signs  in  mathematical  operations  was  still 
almost  a  novelty  ;  and  he  takes  pains  to  point  out 
the  value  of  those  branches  of  mathematics,  which 
are  specially  concerned  with  signs,  in  the  simplifica 
tion  of  the  sciences.  "  Modern  algebra,"  he  says, 
"  [is]  in  fact  a  more  short,  apposite,  and  artificial 
sort  of  language."  J  Now,  philosophy  has  always 
suffered,  Berkeley  believes,  from  the  ambiguity  and 
unsuitability  of  the  language  with  which  it  has  been 
forced  to  work.  What  advances,  then,  might  we 
not  hope  for,  if  we  could  employ  in  philosophical 
investigation  a  perfectly  determinate  and  suitable 
terminology  ?  Such  a  terminology,  Berkeley  hoped, 
might  be  supplied  by  signs  akin  to  those  employed 
by  algebra.  Algebra  is  par  excellence  the  science  of 
signs,  and  Berkeley  believes  that  a  little  attention 
to  algebra  and  the  way  in  which  it  uses  its  signs 
"  may  possibly  help  us  to  judge  of  the  progress  of 
the  mind  in  other  sciences  ;  which,  though  differing 

1  Alciphron,  ii.  344. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  211 

in  nature,  design,  and  object,  may  yet  agree  in  the 
general  methods  of  proof  and  enquiry."  1 

It  will  help  us  to  appreciate  Berkeley's  application 
of  the  doctrine  of  signs  to  the  special  problem  of 
causation,  if  we  explain  (1)  how,  sJiorJisL.  before 
Berkeley's  day,  signs  had  come  to  be  used  in  mathe 
matics  and  especially  in  algebra  ;  and  (2)  what 
exactly  Berkeley  understood  by  the  application  of 
algebraic  methods  in  other  sciences. 

(1)  First,  then,  of  the  development  of  the  use  of 
signs  in  mathematics  in  the  decades  immediately 
preceding  the  time  when  these  problems  began  to 
occupy  Berkeley's  attention.  The  first  signs  to  be 
used  were  naturally  those  of  addition  and  sub 
traction  (  +  and  - )  ;  yet  even  such  elementary 
and  indispensable  signs  were  not  generally  accepted 
symbols  till  about  1630.  And  it  was  much  later 
before  uniformity  was  reached  in  the  use  of  the  other 
chief  signs. 

From  1631  onwards  English  mathematicians  used 
the  sign  x  to  denote  multiplication,  but  many 
French  mathematicians,  following  the  usage  of 
Descartes,  indicated  the  operation  by  a  dot.  And 
it  was  denoted  by  Leibniz  in  1686  by  the  sign  "-. 

A  similar  lack  of  agreement  existed  as  to  the 
symbols  with  which  to  represent  division.  It  was 
usually  indicated  by  the  method,  copied  from  the 
Arabs,  of  writing  down  the  quantities  to  be  operated 
upon  in  the  form  of  a  fraction  by  means  of  a  line 
drawn  between  them,  in  any  of  the  forms  a  -  b,  a/b, 

or  -.     English  mathematicians,  however,  frequently 
b 

1  Ibid.  ii.  342. 


212  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

indicated  it  by  a  dot.  In  1686  Leibniz  used  the 
sign  ^. 

The  symbol  =  for  equality  was  not  commonly 
used  till  the  time  of  Newton,  say  about  1680. 
Previously  the  word  was  written  out  fully,  or  the 
signs  oc  or  »  were  used.  The  sign  :  :  to  denote  the 
equality  of  two  ratios  was  brought  into  common  use 
in  1686  by  Wallis. 

The  relations  is  greater  than  and  is  less  than  were, 
at  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century,  indicated 
either  by  our  present  signs  >  and  <C,  or  by  -D  and 
_a.  The  negative  symbols  =f=  for  is  not  equal  to, 
>  for  is  not  greater  than,  and  <fc  for  is  not  less  than 
had  not  been  introduced  in  Berkeley's  time. 

In  Berkeley's  day  the  use  of  indices  to  denote  the 
power  to  which  a  magnitude  is  to  be  raised  had  only 
comparatively  recently  become  general.  As  early 
as  1637  Descartes  used  indices,  but  only  positive 
integral  ones,  e.g.  az,  a3.  In  1659  Wallis  used  and 
explained  fractional  and  negative  indices,  e.g. 
x~l,  x*  ;  and  Newton  was  the  first  to  use  an  index 
infinitely  large,  e.g.  an. 

The  invention  of  the  calculus  necessitated  the 
introduction  of  certain  symbols.  In  Newton's 
notation  x  means  a  first  fluxion,  x  a  second  fluxion, 
and  so  on  ;  and  the  corresponding  differentials  were 
represented  by  Leibniz  by  dx,  ddx,  and  so  on.1 

Now  practically  all  these  symbols,  it  must  be 
repeated,  were  comparatively  new  in  Berkeley's 

1  On  the  development  of  the  use  of  signs  in  mathematics  see 
further  W.  W.  R.  Ball,  A  Short  History  of  Mathematics,  pp.  212  ff. ; 
M.  Cantor,  Geschichte  der  Mathematik ;  and  F.  Cajori,  The  Works 
of  William  Oughtred,  in  the  Monist,  July,  1915,  pp.  441  ff.,  to 
all  of  which  the  above  account  is  indebted. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  213 

student  days  ;  and  their  use  had  not  yet  become 
common.  Still,  it  was  already  clear  how  wonder 
fully  they  had  contributed  to  the  success  of  mathe 
matics.  They  had  helped  it  to  advance  by  simpli 
fying  its  methods,  for  before  their  introduction  all 
mathematical  operations  had  to  be  written  out  fully 
in  words,  and  mathematical  demonstrations,  unless 
they  could  be  represented  geometrically,  were 
cumbrous  and  tedious. 

Berkeley  himself  was  greatly  interested  in  the  use 
of  signs  in  mathematics.  In  the  Miscellanea  Maihe- 
matica  (1707),  he  indulges  in  a  perfect  orgy  of 
symbols.  And  he  suggests,  in  a  short  paper 
De  Radicibus  Surdis  (1707),  as  a  simplification  of 
the  usual  method  of  representing  surd  quantities, 
the  introduction  of  a  new  symbolic  notation  of  his 
own.1  Roots,  he  points  out,  might  conveniently 
be  represented  by  the  use  of  Greek  letters  ;  /3,  for 
instance,  would  express  s/6,  <5  would  stand  for  Jd, 
and  so  on.  Similarly,  Jbc  would  be  written  /3«r, 

and  A/—       — — .     But  Berkeley  sees  that,  if  this 
'      e    .       e 

notation  were  adopted,  it  would  not  enable  us  to 
distinguish  square  roots  from  cube  roots  and  those 
of  still  higher  powers  ;  and  he  therefore  makes  the 
alternative  suggestion  that  roots  should  be  ex 
pressed  by  the  same  method  of  dots  as  was  then 
used  for  fluxions,  e.g.  a  would  stand  for  Ja,  a  for 
I/a,  a  for  \lat  and  so  on. 

Now,  worthless  as  all  this  is  in  itself,  it  is  yet  of 
importance  on  account  of  the  light  it  throws  on 

1  iv.  43-47. 


214  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Berkeley's  interest  in  symbols  as  such.  He  was 
interested  in  them  because  they  were  still  so  new 
that  alterations  such  as  he  advocated  might  even 
yet  be  suggested  with  some  hope  that  they  might 
be  accepted.  But  another  consideration  impressed 
Berkeley  in  connection  with  signs.  Though  fifty  or 
even  twenty-five  years  before  his  student  days  they 
had  been  used  by  mathematicians  with  little  uni 
formity,  they  had  already  by  the  time  he  began  to 
write  become  fairly  standardised,  so  that  the  same 
symbols  everywhere  and  always  meant  the  same 
thing.  This  meaning  was,  indeed,  arbitrary  and 
artificial ;  but  for  Berkeley  the  important  thing  was 
that  it  was  a  definite  and  determinate  meaning. 
Thus  by  the  use  of  similar  signs  in  philosophy  he 
hoped  to  be  able  to  introduce  exactness  and  accuracy, 
and  at  the  same  time  secure  results  which  could  be 
demonstrated  so  that  all  who  agreed  in  the  meaning 
of  the  signs  would  be  forced  to  give  assent  to  the 
conclusions.  And  finally,  Berkeley  hoped  that  by 
such  an  introduction  of  signs  in  philosophy  it  would 
be  possible  to  simplify  it  and  rescue  it  at  once  from 
the  meaningless  subtleties  of  the  Schoolmen,  and 
the  occult  complexities  of  the  Cartesians.  Hence  he 
believes  that  the  hope  of  philosophy  lies  in  the  applica 
tion  to  its  problems  of  algebra,  the  science  of  signs. 
(2)  What  exactly  does  Berkeley  mean  by  the 
application  of  algebra  to  the  problems  of  philosophy  ? 
Berkeley's  interest  in  algebra  is  proved  not  only  by 
the  numerous  references  to  it  in  his  works,  but  also 
by  the  juvenile  publication  De  Ludo  Algebraico 
(1707).  This  tract  gives  a  description,  with  a  figure, 
of  an  algebraic  game  invented  by  him,  and  advocated 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  215 

on  the  characteristic  grounds  that  it  is  both  as 
pleasant  a  recreation  as  chess  and  a  useful  exercise 
in  algebra.  After  explaining  the  game  he  concludes 
by  making  the  most  extraordinary  claims  for  algebra. 
It  may  usefully  be  applied,  he  declares,  "  to  the  whole 
extent  of  mathematics,  and  every  art  and  science, 
military,  civil,  and  philosophical."  "  Through  all 
of  these,"  he  continues,  "  is  diffused  the  wondrous 
power  of  algebra.  By  all  it  is  regarded  as  a  great 
and  wonderful  art,  the  topmost  pinnacle  of  human 
knowledge,  and  the  kernel  and  key  of  all  mathe 
matical  science."  x 

After  thus  giving  his  own  testimony  to  the  value 
of  the  application  of  algebra  in  the  sciences,  Berkeley 
proceeds  to  appeal  for  confirmation  to  the  evidence 
of  Descartes,  Malebranche  and  Locke.2  Unfor 
tunately  the  passages  in  these  authors  to  which 
Berkeley  refers  shed  very  little  light  on  the  applica 
tion  of  algebra.  Locke,  whose  Conduct  of  the  Under 
standing  Berkeley  refers  to,  speaks  very  favourably 
of  algebra,  but  he  says  nothing  about  the  possibility 
of  applying  its  methods  directly  to  other  sciences.3 
And  Malebranche,  to  whom  Berkeley  also  refers, 
though  he  expresses  himself  with  more  vigour  and 
enthusiasm  than  Locke,  does  so  with  equal  vague 
ness.  He  merely  insists,  as  Berkeley  does,  on  the 
simplicity  and  ease  with  which,  by  means  of  algebra, 
we  are  able  to  abridge  the  labour  of  study  ;  and  he 
declares  that  algebra  (along  with  arithmetic)  forms 
the  foundation  of  all  the  sciences,  and  supplies  the 
means  by  which  they  may  be  acquired.4  The  point 

1  iv.  60.  2  Miscellanea  Mathematica,  iv.  62. 

3  Op.  cit.  §  7.          4  Recherche  de  la  Virile,  vi.  i.  5. 


216  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

on  which  both  Malebranche  and  Locke  insist  is  the 
value  of  algebra  in  simplifying  the  sciences  to  which 
it  is  applied. 

To  them  and  their  readers  it  was  perfectly  clear 
what  was  meant  when  it  was  said  that  algebra 
simplifies  the  work  of  the  sciences  ;  but  to  us,  to 
whom  algebra  is  no  novelty,  this  aspect  of  it  is  not  so 
obvious.  And  it  may,  perhaps,  help  us  to  realise 
what  Berkeley  hoped  for  from  the  application  of 
algebra  in  philosophy,  if  we  have  before  us  an 
example  of  the  way  in  which  algebra  had  rendered 
possible  this  work  of  simplification. 

Algebra  had  been  employed  by  Descartes  to 
simplify  geometry.  Descartes  invented  analytical 
geometry  in  1637  and  substituted  simple  algebraic 
methods,  which  could  be  applied  universally,  for  a 
cumbrous  geometry  requiring  new  constructions  for 
each  particular  problem  it  attacked.  Analytical 
geometry  gives  us  a  method  of  representing  curves 
and  curved  surfaces  by  means  of  simple  algebraic 
equations.  Descartes  saw  that  a  point  in  a  plane 
could  be  determined  if  its  two  co-ordinates  were 
given,  i.e.  if  its  distances  (x  and  y)  from  two  straight 
lines  drawn  at  right  angles  to  one  another  in  the  same 
plane  were  known.  Such  an  equation  as  f(x,  y)=0 
represents  a  plane  curve  described  according  to  a 
certain  law.  The  equation  is  indeterminate  and  is 
satisfied  by  every  point  in  the  curve  ;  but  its  merit 
is  precisely  that  it  is  general  and  contains  in  itself 
every  property  of  the  curve.  Thus,  instead  of 
having  to  draw  a  special  figure  for  each  case,  as  we 
must  do  in  ordinary  geometry,  it  is  only  necessary 
to  know  the  general  equation  to  the  curve,  and  any 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  217 

particular  property  may  then  immediately  be  de 
duced  by  an  application  of  ordinary  algebra.  In 
this  way  the  application  of  algebraic  methods 
to  geometry  immensely  simplifies  what  would 
otherwise  be  exceedingly  complicated  geometrical 
operations. 

The  possibility  of  applying  algebra  outside  mathe 
matics  had  occurred  to  many  thinkers  in  Berkeley's 
day,  and  algebraic  methods  had  been  applied, 
often  very  foolishly  and  fantastically,  to  all  sorts  of 
problems.  Berkeley  himself  notes  its  application 
in  medicine  and  natural  philosophy  ;  and  he  refers, 
with  evident  appreciation,  to  the  use  that  had  been 
made  of  it  in  demonstrating  the  credibility  of  human 
testimony.  As  an  example  of  this  he  gives  a  refer 
ence  to  an  article  in  the  Philosophical  Transactions 
of  the  Royal  Society  ;  and  it  seems  worth  while,  as 
an  instance  of  the  kind  of  "  application  "  he  thought 
feasible  and  valuable,  to  indicate  the  scope  and 
argument  of  the  article  in  question. 

In  the  article,1  which  is  anonymous,  the  writer 
considers  the  credibility  of  evidence,  e.g.  the  report 
that  £1200  has  been  given  to  him  by  somebody. 
He  assumes  that  the  credibility  of  the  average  report 
is  g  absolute  certainty,  and  thus  if  the  report  be 
at  second-hand  its  credibility  will  be  only  §|  (i.e.  ^ 
of  |),  and  so  on.  This  may  be  expressed  algebrai 
cally  as  follows,  if  we  put  a  for  the  share  of  certainty 
given  by  a  single  reporter,  and  c  for  what  is  lacking 
to  make  the  certainty  complete.  The  degree  of 

1  "  On  the  Credibility  of  Human  Testimony,"  Philosophical 
Transactions,  1699,  vol.  xxi.  no.  257,  p.  359.  The  author  may 
have  been  John  Craig  (v.  infra). 


218  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

certainty    at    first-hand    is    -  ,    at    second-hand 

a  +c 

2  a3 

at   third-hand    -  ,  and   so   on.      Take 


(a+c)2 

another  case,  rather  more  elaborate.  Suppose  the 
narrative  reported  contains  six  particular  articles  or 
statements.  If  the  degree  of  certainty  of  the  whole 
be  |,  the  degree  of  certainty  for  each  article  will  be 
|-f  .  For  there  is  5  to  1  against  any  error  at  all  in 
the  report,  and  there  is  another  5  to  1  against  the 
error  falling  in  any  one  particular  article.  The 
recipient  of  the  news  has  ^  certainty  for  the  whole, 
and  (|-  x  jl)  certainty  additional  for  each  particular 
article  taken  separately,  i.e.  -|+^%  or  |-^  certainty 
for  each  particular  article  taken  separately.  This 
result  also  may  be  expressed  algebraically.  For 

suppose  as  before  that  is  the  proportion  of 

a+c          m 
certainty  for  the  whole,  and  that  -      -  is  the  chance 

m  +n 

of  the  rest  of  the  particular  articles  (m)  against  any 
one  or  more  of  them  (n),  then  the  certainty  in  the 
case  of  each  particular  article  will  be  unity  diminished 

tic 
by  -  —  .     Other  problems  considered  in  the 

(m  +n)(a 


articles  are  the  credibility  of  oral  tradition  over  a 
period  of  years,  and  the  accuracy  of  written  tradition 
involving  several  copies  of  the  original  document. 
By  a  strange  coincidence  a  book  was  published 
in  the  same  year  as  this  article  appeared  (1699) 
bearing  a  title  copied  from  Newton  (Theologiae 
Christianae  Principia  Mathematica),  and  dealing 
with  the  same  problems  as  the  article.  The  author, 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  219 

John  Craig,  calculates  by  mathematical  methods  that 
the  evidences  of  Christianity,  gradually  deteriorating, 
will  be  reduced  to  nil  in  3150  A.D.,  and  that  a  new 
revelation  will  then  become  necessary. 

Berkeley  avoided  the  absurdities  and  extrava 
gances  of  such  "  appli cations  "  of  algebra,  but  the 
spirit  which  actuates  him  is  the  same.  What  he 
does  in  developing  his  theory  of  signs  is  to  apply 
what  he  regards  as  the  principles  of  algebra  to  the 
study  of  nature  ;  and  his  Natural  Philosophy  may 
well  be  called  an  Algebra  of  Nature.1 

Just  as  algebraic  signs  suggest  to  us,  or  enable  us 
to  infer,  the  things  they  signify  (e.g.  from  the  collec 
tion  of  signs  x2+y2  =  c2  we  infer,  according  to  the 
Cartesian  system,  a  circle  with  its  centre  at  the 
origin),  so  the  signs  which  we  see  in  nature  suggest 
to  us,  or  enable  us  to  infer,  the  things  they  signify. 
Thus,  to  use  Berkeley's  illustrations,  a  fire  which 
I  see  suggests  to  me,  or  enables  me  to  infer,  that  if 
I  approach  too  near  to  it  I  shall  suffer  pain.2  Simi 
larly,  the  noise  that  I  hear  suggests  to  me,  or  enables 
me  to  infer,  that  some  sort  of  collision  or  concussion 
has  taken  place.3 

The  relation  between  the  sign  and  the  thing 
signified  is  not  necessary.  The  sign  does  not  im 
mediately  and  inevitably  suggest  the  thing  it  signi 
fies  ;  the  relation  between  them  must  be  learnt. 
To  the  savage  the  group  of  signs  x2+y2  =  c2  does 

1  Berkeley  also  applies  algebra  to  ethics.     Vide  infra,  Chap.  VI. 

2  Principles,  §  65. 

3  Between    suggestion    and   inference    there    is    an    important 
epistemological    distinction.       See   Theory  of  Vision   or  Visual. 
Language   Vindicated,  §  42. 


22/>  IJKKKKLKV'K  J'HJLOBOPH* 

riot  immediately  »ugge»t  a  circle  ;    trie  expression 
HuggMt*  ft  circle  only  to  the  mail  who  ha*  Iftanii  by 
4-/   experi'tfuje  itw  relation  between  the  wign  and  what 
/     Jt  »ignifie«,    Ho,  the  fire  doe#  not  mcett&rily  Kn%%<&i 
Win  ;    it  «ugg<^t«  pain  only  to  Uw  "  burnt  chiH," 
j-r  only  if)  thti  fHtrwttt  who  haw  burnt  thv  relati/jn 
nd  what  it 


It  i«  uniform  lx>  UMJ  a  m<xJ«rn  t»;rrn 
which  w<?JI  <^|/n?hw<^  JJ<;rk«?Jj«?y'«  meaning—  within 
a  certain  universe  of  <Jiwourw.  Within  the  univerwi 
of  diwjourw*}  of  Cartx^ian  ttwtmvtry  ar2  -l-y*=e2 
uniformly  ermbix^  u«  t/>  infer  a  circle  ;  arid  within 
the  universe  of  <li#courhe  of  the  Earth  fire  uniformly 
enablfc«  u*  to  infer  pain  if  we  approach  txx>  clr>»ely. 

Jiut  JierkeJjey  in^bitn  that  the  relation  i«  an 
arbitrary  one.  The  choice  of  the  particular  group 
of  ttign*  ar2  -4  //*=  c*  to  reprewint  a  circle  in  perfectly 
arbitrary.  Yet  it  alwayw  enable**  UH  U>  infer  a  circle, 
because  there  ix  universal  agre<;rnent  among  mathe- 
maticianx  a«  to  the  meaning  of  thetse  >si^n«.  Simi 
larly,  the  /':J;ii,ion  between  pain  and  (ir<*  in  arbitrary, 
but  the  latter  always  alJowH  UH  Ixj  infer  the  former, 
bfccau  •  it  I  >••>.••.  \>'.'.n  f^o  decreed  by  <i<>d.  It  w  due 
to  the  arbitrary,  though  Jiofc  capricious,  will  ul  CJod, 
Oi.-fi.  '•'/•»:)]/!  n.-j.t.uf.-il  ;-i^/j-:  uJway;-i  KU^ewt  certain 
n:t».u/;tl  Uun;'  j;;/iJfi«;<J.  The  f;onnection  i«  purely 
arbitrary. 

And  thi*,  JJr;rkeley  argueH,  i«  all  that  we  mean  by 
causality.  Cau«ality  v-  not  the  relation  of  cause  and 
'•fleet,  it  UJ  the  /'J;j.1i';n  <  >\  i;'fi  afj'J  Oiin^  signified. 
'I  },•  fin  that  J  HCC  w  not  the  cause  of  the  pain  T  feel 
Qn"£ppnwu?hing  it  too  clonely,  it  is  the  mar  A;  or 


TIIKOKY  or  KNOWU<:IX;I<:  •/:•! 

thai  forcwarriH  inc  of  it.1  Similarly,  the  nome  that 
I  hear  i»!  not-  I. he  <'ff<'<'t  of  the  «  "Hi  ion,  l.ul,  the  ni{fn 
that  ejjaMen  mo  to  Infer  that  a  colIiHion  IHIM  taken 
plux»e.  The,  nign  may  thim  lie  either  what  in  coin 
monly  called  the  caune,  or  what  in  commonly  called 
th($  (!Jlo(!t.  If  it  in  \)\<>  "  cauHc-,"  it  Hiif/tfcxtH,  JIH  thn 
tiling  Hi^rii(i(!<l,  the-  "  (tHect  "  ;  and  if  it  in  tho  "  ofToct," 
it  HU^tsHtH,  an  the  thin^  Hignified,  the  "  eaune," 

Borkdoy  thuH  irriplu^  the,  Htriot  cot-relativity  <»f 
"  cauHO  "  and  "  c,flect  "  ;  and  witii  Hiich  a  doctrine 
aH  the  plurality  of  cauMcu  ho  would  havo  no  sympathy,  I 
livery  tii^ri  ifi  nature  in  corrcluLul  l<y  (^lod  with  Homo 
one  tiling  which  itnigniiieH  ;  th(rr<HH  a_pre  <  i,,il.li  ,hed 
ii arm otiy— between  them,  and  an  the  wigri  Htrictly 
n  only  the  one  thing  Hignifled,  HO  the 

HU^geHtH  "only  the  one  niprn.  A 
Minified  cannot  he  Higriified  hy  a  plurality  of 
it  ifl  Hug^ent«;d  only  hy  itn  own  proper  Hign. 

Nature  JH  HyHtematically  organised  hy  (jod  HO  that 
nignH  and  thingM  nullified  prenerve  thin  one-one 
relation.  AH  the  Languag<;  of  Nature,  to  UNO 
Berkeley's  own  term— in  a  perfect  language  (for  it 
in  the  language  of  God),  each  word  in  it  ntandn  for 
Home  one  particular  thing,  arid  each  particular  thing 
in  the  univerne  han  itn  Appropriate  and  peculiar  name. 
ThuH,  in  the  mind  of_God^ jy^pULJ^jdiMtliifaiy 
Hyntematic,  and  8Jgn8  arid  llnu^  ujMnln-d  are 
perfectly  adjuHtwi; 

ThiH  di UK  l.-i.ny.uiLge  conntituteH,  for  Berkeley,  the, 
nytittim  of  tlie  lawn  of  njitimj.  The  language,  of 
nature  revealn  itn  "  connintent  uniform  working " 
arid  nhowH  that  itn  lawn  are  "  eonnectionH  entahlinhed 

1  /  'rincirilf.«,  §  65, 


222  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

by  the  Author  of  Nature  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
things."  *  These  laws__of  nature,  representing  a 
pre-established  connection  in  the  mind  of  God,  are 
absolutely  settled  and  fixed,  and  in  accordance 
with  them  everything  in  nature  takes  place  with 
perfect  uniformity. 

Now,  men  often  doubt  the  uniformity  of  nature 
and  the  universality  of  its  laws.  The  reason  for 
this  is  that  the  laws  of  nature  are  not  self-evident. 
They  need  to  be  learnt.  The  universe  may  well 
seem  a  chaos  before  we  have  learnt  its  meaning. 
This  meaning  is  not  supernaturally  revealed  to  us 
at  birth.  God,  it  is  true,  excites  in  us  from  time 
to  time  certain  ideas  which  are  connected  by  set 
rules  in  his  mind  ;  but  he  does  not  explain  their 
connection  to  us  all  at  once.  We  must  learn  by 
experience  which  ideas  are  connected  with  which. 
We  have  to  acquire  God's  notation,  as  we  have  to 
learn  that  of  Descartes  or  Newton.  We  understand 
the  laws  of  nature,  "  the  set  rules  or  established 
methods  wherein  the  Mind  we  depend  on  excites  in 
us  the  ideas  of  sense,"  2  only  when  we  are  able  to 
interpret  God's  symbolism,  just  as  we  understand 
the  theorems  established  in  the  Principia  only  when 
we  are  acquainted  with  the  notation  which  it 
employs.  Hence  it  is  the  great  .task  of  science  to 
try  to  understand  the  divine  symbolism.  "It  is 
the  searching  after  and  endeavouring  to  understand 
this  Language  (if  I  may  so  call  it)  of  the  Author  of 
Nature  that  ought  to  be  the  employment  of  the 
natural  philosopher."  3 

1  The  Theory  of  Vision  or  Visual  Language  Vindicated,  §  40. 

2  Principles,  §  30.  3  Ibid.  §  66. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  223 

In  the  process  of  seeking  to  understand  this  divine 
language  of  the  laws  of  nature  we  may  often  attain 
some  knowledge  of  the  sign  without  fully  or  exactly 
comprehending  what  it  signifies.  The  sign  may 
suggest  something  to  us,  and  we  may  be  able  to  make 
use  of  it,  though  we  may  be  quite  unable  to  formulate 
precisely  what  it  does  suggest.  Here  again  the 
analogy  of  mathematics  makes  Berkeley's  meaning 
clear.  Such  signs  or  groups  of  signs  as  J  -  1  and  TT 
mean  something  and  may  be  used  in  mathematical 
operations,  though  it  is  impossible  to  express  numeri 
cally  exactly  what  they  suggest.  So,  even  though 
it  be  impossible  to  explain  precisely  what  certain 
signs  in  nature  suggest  to  us,  we  may  make  use  of 
the  symbols,  and  may,  indeed,  maintain  that, 
though  we  cannot  formulate  them  exactly,  there  is 
something  that  they  suggest.1 

But  in  general  we  are  able  by  experience  to  learn 
the  relation  between  sign  and  thing  signified.  God 
follows  certain  rules  in  the  organisation  of  nature, 
and,  as  men  succeed  in  discovering  these  rules,  the 
connection  of  sign  and  thing  signified  becomes  ever 
clearer.  God  creates  certain  organisms  and  con 
structs  certain  machines,  in  much  the  same  way  as 
men  combine  letters  in  words  and  words  in  sentences. 
As  the  relations  of  words  are  clarified  when  they 

1  In  this  argument  Berkeley  has  a  theological  motive.  He 
wishes  to  justify  our  belief  in  the  mysteries  of  religion.  He 
maintains  that  though  these  mysteries  are  above  reason,  they 
are  not  contrary  to  reason.  According  to  his  argument,  we  see 
certain  "  effects  "  in  the  world  which  seem  to  be  signs  of  certain 
supra -rational  "  causes  "  ;  and,  even  though  we  are  unable 
to  give  a  rationale  of  what  we  conceive  to  be  signified  by  these 
ideas,  yet,  so  long  as  our  assumptions  do  not  contradict  reason, 
we  are  entitled  to  make  use  of  them. 


224  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

appear  in  sentences,  so  the  relations  of  things  are 
elucidated  when  they  are  seen  in  a  proper  context 
as  parts  of  machines  or  organs  in  organisms.1 

The  question  may  be  raised,  why,  if  God  is  the 
ultimate  and  omnipotent  cause,  he  requires  organisms 
of  complex  structure  to  produce  effects  which  he 
could  equally  well  have  created  by  a  single  fiat  of 
his  will.  To  this  question  Berkeley's  answer  is  that 
all  the  elaborate  organisation  and  mechanism  is 
"  for  our  information."  It  is  not  necessary  for  the 
production  of  the  results  themselves,  but  it  is 
essential  in  order  that  they  should  occur  according 
to  the  laws  of  nature.2-  Things  must  be  produced  by 
God  by  the  same  methods  and  in  accordance  with 
the  same  processes,  in  order  that  we,  perceiving  the 
appropriate  signs,  may  have  due  warning  that  the 
things  signified  will  follow. 

Thus  the  two  functions  of  the  laws  of  nature  or 
the  methods  of  God's  operations  are  (a)  to  guarantee 
the  uniformity  of  experience,  and  (6)  to  enable  us 
to  use  foresight  for  the  benefit  of  life.  Without 
these  two  conditions  of  experience  knowledge  and 
action  would  be  alike  impossible.  But  as  it  is,  we 
are  able  to  acquire  scientific  knowledge  of  nature, 
to  pass  judgments  of  value  on  actions,  and  to 
predict  the  future  with  sufficient  accuracy  to  make 
practical  activity  fruitful.3 


In^_allthis  Berkeleyis 

between  a  theocentric  and  an  anthropocentric  view 
o£  the  universe.  From  the  point  of  view  of  kiio.w- 
ledge  the  balance  dips 


Principles,  §  65.  =  Ibid.  §  62.  3  Ibid.  §  62. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  225 

theory,  but  in  regard  to  practice  Berkeley  is  de 
cidedly  ajithropocentric. 

^ 

of  tfra  ui 

due  entirely  to  God.  From  the  Human  point  of 
view  the  laws  of  nature  according  to  which  the  world 
is  governed  seem  to  have  no  reality.  They  are 
simply  convenient  names  which  indicate  the  regular 
order  with  which,  in  our  experience,  sign  and  thing 
signified  constantly  occur.  ^_la.w_pf  nature  is  not 
even  a  category  which  we  apply.1  It  is  nothing  but 
an  arbitrary  relation  devised  by  God  for  our  infor 
mation.  But  the  apparent  unreality  of  the  laws  of 
nature  vanishes  when  we  survey  them  sub  specie 
aeternitatis.  For  they  exist  in  the  mind  of  God,  and 
thus  they  have  perfect  reality  ;  they  are  not  only 
real,  but  the  forms  in  which  all  reality  exists.  From 
the  point  of  view  of  science  the  world  is  necessarily 
theocentric. 

On  the  other  hand,  from  the  practical  standpoint, 
the  centre  of  the  universe  is  man.  Though  God  is 
the,  ultimate  cause,  and  acts  always  in  accordance 
with  his  will,  all  his  activity  is  directed  to  secure  the 
greatest  value  for  life  to  finite  persons.  He  goes  to 
the  trouble  of  putting  countless  cogs  on  machines 
and  innumerable  organs  in  organisms  (all  from  his 
point  of  view  useless),  solely  "  for  the  benefit  of  life  " 
of  finite  spirits.  The  whole  universe  is  benevolently 
ordered  by  God  for  man's  advantage,  and  thus, 
varying  a  well-known  title,  we  may  say  servus 
servorum  Deus. 

1  Principles,  §  66. 


226  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

VI.  MOTION,  SPACE  AND  TIME 

Berkeley's  general  attitude  to  the  problems  of 
motion,  space  and  time  might  be  inferred  from  his 
theory  of  causation.  AsL.Gqd.Js  t&eJSujDr^mj^  Cause, 
sa.God  is  the  Prime  Mover.  As  God  enables  finite 
causes  to  operate  in  virtue  of  their  relation  to  Jaim, 
so  God  exercises  a  normative  function  with  respect 
to  the  private  spaces  and  times  of  which  alojje  our 
own  immediate  experience  assures  us.  Causation 
would  be  impossible,  apart  from  God.  Similarly, 
space,  time  and  motion  would  be  impossible,  apart 
from_Gpd.  Berkeley  holds  that  physics  does  not 
require  the  postulate  of  mechanical  causation  or 
infinitely  extended  matter.  But  it  does  require  the 
existence  of  God. 

The  theory  of  motion,  space  and  time  is  most 
fully  set  forth  in  the  Latin  treatise  De  Motu,  which 
Berkeley  wrote  in  1720  and  published  in  the  following 
year.  In  1720  the  Academy  of  Sciences  at  Paris 
offered  a  prize  for  an  essay  on  the  nature,  origin  and 
communication  of  motion.  Berkeley's  tract  was 
written  with  a  view  to  this,  but  there  is  no  evidence 
that  it  was  ever  submitted  to  the  Paris  Academy. 
In  any  case,  the  prize  was  gained  by  Crousaz  (1663- 
1749),  a  well-known  logician,  with  his  Discours  sur 
la  Nature,  le  Principe,  et  la  Communication  du  Mouve- 
ment.  If  Berkeley  was  a  candidate,  his  failure  is 
not  surprising,  for  the  essay  is  superficial  and  ill- 
arranged,  supercilious  in  its  criticism,  and  vague  in 
its  positive  conclusions.  But  its  significance  be 
comes  greater  when  we  consider  it  in  connection 
with  what  Berkeley  elsewhere  says  about  motion, 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  227 

and  in  relation  to  his  metaphysical  theory  as  a 
whole. 

De  Motu  forms  a  half-way  house  between  the 
sensationalism  of  Berkeley's  earlier  period  and  the 
spiritual  realism  which  he  developed  in  his  latest 
phase.  On  the  whole,  its  assumptions  are  those  of 
the  early  period,  but  these  assumptions  are  not 
obtruded.  Berkeley's  disinclination  to  emphasise 
his  own  metaphysical  theory  was  no  doubt  largely 
due  to  the  fact  that  he  was  writing  De  Motu  for  the 
approval  of  a  French  committee,  most  of  whom 
would  be  unacquainted  with  his  work  hi  the 
Principles,  and  therefore  he  did  not  care  to  bring 
into  the  foreground  a  theory  of  his  own  which  might 
prejudice  them  against  him.  But  it  is  also  possible 
to  detect  in  De  Motu  traces  of  the  process  of  develop 
ment  which  finally  culminated  in  Siris.1  The  author 
of  De  Motu  is  a  more  mature  Berkeley  than  the 
writer  of  the  Principles. 

In  proceeding  now  to  sketch  the  outlines  of 
Berkeley's  natural  philosophy,  we  shall  deal  first 
with  motion,  and  then  pass  on  to  consider  his 
theories  of  space  and  time. 

The  nature  of  motion  occupied  Berkeley's  attention 
from  the  very  beginning  of  his  speculation.  In  the 
first  page  or  two  of  the  Commonplace  Book  he  is 
troubled  about  the  relation  of  tangible  and  visible 
motion,2  and  the  difficulty  of  reconciling  Newton's 
two  kinds  of  motion  (i.e.  absolute  and  relative), 
with  the  New  Principle.3  In  the  New  Theory  of 
Vision,  these  problems  are  briefly  considered,4  in 
the  Principles  his  own  views  are  very  clearly  though 

1  Vide  infra,  Sect.  VII.         2  i.  59.        3  i,  60.         4  §  137, 


228  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

summarily  stated,1  and  the  arguments  which  he 
adduces  are  reinforced  in  the  Three  Dialogues?  De 
Motu  is,  of  course,  devoted  almost  entirely  to  it. 
This,  then,  is  the  corpus  of  material  with  which  we 
have  to  deal. 

To  take  first  the  origin  of  motion.  On  this 
problem  Berkeley  at  once  intimates  his  disagreement 
with  currently  accepted  theories.3  He  credits 
Newton  with  the  doctrine  that  the  origin  of  motion 
is  to  be  found  in  gravity,  and  objects  to  this  theory 
on  the  ground  that  it  is  no  explanation  at  all.  It 
succeeds  only  in  committing  the  fallacy  of  obscurum 
per  obscurius.  For  it  does  not  tell  us  what  gravity 
is.  "  Newton  proves,"  says  Berkeley,  "  that  gravity 
is  proportional  to  gravity.  I  think  that's  all." 4 
As  Newton  does  not  tell  us  what  gravity  is,  it  is 
rash  and  indeed  futile  for  him  to  ascribe  the  origin 
of  motion  to  it.  He  is  explaining  by  means  of  that 
which  itself  needs  explanation.  This  is  Berkeley's 
preliminary  criticism  of  Newton.  It  is,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  an  ignoratio  elenchi,  for  Newton  does  not 
assign  gravity  as  the  ultimate  cause  of  motion.  He 
holds  that  gravity  is  of  value  in  the  explanation 
of  the  world  of  phenomena,  but  gravity  itself  needs 
to  be  caused  by  something  else,  and  what  this  ulti 
mate  cause  may  be  Newton  never  pretends  to  say.5 

Leibniz  also,  Berkeley  holds,  is  at  fault  in  the 
account  he  gives  of  the  origin  of  motion.6  As  the 

1  §§  10,  14,  27,  99,  101-117.  2  i.  400-403. 

3  De  Motu,  §§  3  ff.  *  Commonplace  Book,  i.  31. 

5  Rationem  vero  harum  Gravitatis  proprietatum  ex  Phaeno 
menis    nondum    potui    deducere,    et    Hypotheses    non    fingo. 
(Principia,  1713,  p.  483.) 

6  De  Motu,  §  8. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  229 

ultimate  cause  of  motion  Leibniz  assigned  an  active 
primitive  power,  present  in  all  bodies  and  produc 
ing  relations  of  attraction  and  repulsion  between 
them.1 

Now,  Berkeley  says,  Newton  and  Leibniz  both 
admit  that  nothing  real  corresponds  to  what  they 
call  respectively  gravity  and  power.  Newton  uses 
gravity  simply  as  a  mathematical  hypothesis,  and 
Leibniz  agrees  that  the  nisus  and  sollicitatio  of  bodies 
do  not  really  exist  in  rerum  natura,  and  are,  in  fact, 
simply  convenient  abstractions.  Berkeley  argues 
that  such  explanations  as  these  which  rest  on  obscure 
and  occult  abstractions  explain  nothing.  The 
qualities  which  they  assign  as  causes  of  motion  are 
neither  apprehensible  in  sense-perception,  nor  intelli 
gible  by  reason.  Therefore,  they  are,  Berkeley 
concludes,  "  just  nothing,"  and  those  who  have 
posited  them  are  little  better  than  quibblers. 
"  Dixisse  aliquid  potius  quam  cogitasse  censendi 
sunt,"  2 

1  It  is  noteworthy  that  De  Motu  is  the  only  one  of  Berkeley's 
works  in  which  much  attention  is  paid  to  Leibniz.  That  he 
mentions  him  there  is  sufficiently  explained  by  the  considera 
tions  that  (a)  the  tract  was  written  when  Berkeley  was  returning 
from  a  prolonged  sojourn  on  the  Continent,  where  Leibniz's 
reputation  was  much  greater  than  it  was  in  England  or  Ireland, 
and  that  (b)  the  essay  was  intended  to  be  offered  to  a  society 
among  whom  Leibniz's  work  was  peculiarly  well  known.  But 
Fraser  is  mistaken  in  saying  that  Leibniz  is  mentioned  for  the 
first  time  in  De  Motu.  There  are  at  least  two  earlier  references, 
one  in  the  Commonplace  Book  (i.  85),  and  the  other  in  the  early 
essay  Of  Infinites  (iii.  411),  in  both  cases  the  references  being  to 
Leibniz's  Differential  Calculus.  Berkeley  had  every  opportunity 
of  making  himself  acquainted  with  Leibniz's  work,  as  he  had 
access  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  to  the  Acta  Eruditorum,  in 
which  many  of  Leibniz's  important  papers  were  published. 

*DeMotit,  S20. 


230  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Berkeley  lays  down,  as  a  general  canon  of  pro 
cedure,  that  in  the  philosophy  of  nature  an  explana 
tion  is  valid  only  (a)  if  it  can  be  verified  by  actual 
sense-perception,  or  (6)  if  it  is  rationally  demon 
strable.  Unless  it  satisfies  either  one  or  other  of 
these  conditions,  it  cannot  be  admitted.  And  he 
objects  to  Newton's  and  Leibniz's  explanations  on 
the  ground  that  they  conform  to  neither  of  these 
principles.  It  is  obvious  that  neither  Newton's 
"  gravity  "  nor  Leibniz's  "  power  "  is  the  object  of 
sense-perception.  Berkeley  also  maintains  that 
neither  is  capable  of  rational  proof.  So  far  as 
Leibniz  is  concerned,  Berkeley's  criticism  is  justified, 
because  Leibniz's  principles  of  explanation  were 
obscure,  occult,  and  indeed  fictitious.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  criticism  of  Newton  is  not  sound.  Berkeley 
asserts  that  the  law  of  gravitation  does  not  hold 
universally,  and  supports  this  criticism  by  mentioning 
instances  of  motion  and  rest  which  do  not  conform 
to  it.  These  exceptional  cases  to  which  he  draws 
attention  are  the  perpendicular  growth  of  plants, 
the  elasticity  of  the  air,  and  the  absence  of  attraction 
in  the  fixed  stars.  It  can  now  be  shown  that  these 
exceptions  are  only  apparent,  and  that  they  really 
conform  to  the  law  of  gravitation  comprehensively 
conceived.  Thus  on  this  count  also  Berkeley's 
criticism  of  Newton  falls  to  the  ground.  But  more 
interesting  than  the  criticism  itself  is  the  frame  of 
mind  which  it  reveals  in  Berkeley.  For  Berkeley 
was  perfectly  content  that  the  exceptions  which  he 
mentioned  should  remain  exceptions.  With  the 
scientist's  demand  for  universally  true  principles 
he  had  little  sympathy.  "  Methinks,"  he  says 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  231 

deliberately  in  the  Principles,  "  inethinks  it  is 
beneath  the  dignity  of  the  mind  to  affect  an  exact 
ness  in  reducing  each  particular  phenomenon  to 
general  rules,  or  showing  how  it  follows  from  them."  l 

After  this  criticism  of  Newton  and  Leibniz, 
Berkeley  proceeds  to  give  an  explanation  of  the 
origin  of  motion  consonant  with  the  general  criteria 
of  perceptibility  or  intelligibility.  The  world,  he 
reminds  us,  consists  of  two  sorts  of  things — bodies 
and  minds.2  Bodies,  which  we  know  by  sense- 
perception,  are  extended,  solid,  impenetrable,  and 
movable.  Bodies  do  not  and  cannot  contain  in 
themselves  the  origin  or  efficient  cause  of  motion. 
All  the  separate  qualities  of  bodies,  and  bodies  them 
selves  as  the  complexes  of  these  qualities,  are  wholly 
passive  in  nature.  They  contain  absolutely  nothing 
that  is  active  and  that  can  be  regarded  as  the  source 
of  motion.3 

But  in  addition  to  corporeal  entities  there  are 
spiritual  entities.  Thinking  beings  are  not  known 
by  sense-perception,  but  by  what  in  De  Motu 
Berkeley  terms  conscientia  quadam  internet,.  By  a 
kind  of  intuition,  he  means,  we  realise  that  we  are 
sentient,  percipient  and  intelligent  beings.  Further, 
we  know,  by  the  same  inner  experience,  that  we  are 
active  beings  and  have  the  power  to  cause  motion 

!§  109. 

2  "  Bodies  "  would  have  been  called  "  ideas  "  in  the  Principles. 
Though  in  De  Motu  Berkeley  never  obtrudes  his  "  immaterial  - 
ism,"  he  says  nothing  really  inconsistent  with  it.     He  uses  the 
regular  scientific  language  of  the  day,   and  speaks   of   bodies 
as  solid,  extended,  and  so  on  ;   but  he  still  believes  that  a  body 
ia  nothing  but  the  compages  of  its  qualities,  and  that  these 
qualities  are  all  mind-dependent. 

3  De  Motu,  §§  21-24. 


232  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

in  bodies.  Our  minds  can  initiate  or  inhibit  the 
movements  of  our  limbs  at  pleasure,  and  thus,  since 
our  bodies  are  moved  by  our  minds,  we  may  call  the 
mind  the  source  of  motion.1 

The  source  of  motion,  then,  is  a  vital  principle. 
Now,  vital  principle  is  possessed  only  by  minds. 
"  Those,"  Berkeley  says, "  who  ascribe  vital  principle 
to  bodies  devise  an  obscure  fiction."  2  It  is  charac 
teristic  of  beings  endowed  with  vital  principle, 
i.e.  living  creatures,  to  be  able  to  change  their  own 
states  and  sometimes  also  the  states  of  others.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  is  indisputable,  Berkeley  declares, 
that  no  body  can  of  itself  initiate  any  change  in  its 
state.  It  is  the  nature  of  body  to  continue  in  what 
ever  state  it  happens  to  be  in,  whether  that  state  be 
rest  or  motion.  Body  is  naturally  inert  and  passive, 
entirely  at  the  mercy  of  external  impulsion.  That 
impulsion,  which  is  the  proximate  cause  or  rather 
the  occasion  of  motion,  is  due  either  immediately 
or  mediately  to  some  active  mind. 

But,  if  we  say  that  mind  is  the  origin  of  motion, 
wa  must  remember  that  finite  mind  is  only  a  sub 
ordinate  and  proximate  .cause.  The  ultimate  source 
of  motion  is  what  Berkeley  calls  primum  etuniversale 
Principium,  i.e.  <3o.d.  In  De  Motu  Berkeley  gives 
no  account  of  what  he  means  by  this  conception. 
He  leaves  the  nature  of  God,  and  his  methoda^of 
originating  and  communicating  motion,  in  complete 
obscurity.  AH  he  does  is  to  claim  the  support  of 
Plato  and  Aristotle,  the  Cartesians  and  Newton  for 
the  cpnception  of  God  as  the  creator  and  conservator 
of  motion  in  the  universe. 

1  De  Motu,  §  21.  "-  Ibid.  §  33. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  233 

4s  Or  little  amusing  and  a  little  pathetic  to  notice 
that  Berkeley  seems  to  be  perfectly  satisfied  to  leave 
theMiia^_ejr.94thiat^  After  all  his  f ulminations  against 
mere  words  which  mean  "  just  nothing,"  he  seems 
seriously  to  believe  that  the  four  thinkers  whom  he 
has  mentioned  mean  the  same  thing  as  he  does  when 
they  all  speak  of  God  as  the  ultimate  cause  of  motion. 
But,  in  reality,  their  conceptions  of  the  being  of  God 
and  his  methods  of  operation  in  the  world  differ 
absolutely.  Plato's  God,  for  instance,  is  a  wise 
Sii/u.iovpyos  with  a  purely  external  relation  to  the 
world  which  he  makes  and  remakes.  Aristotle,  after 
protesting  against  Plato's  poetic  metaphors,  ends  by 
giving  us  a  serenely  self-contemplative  God,  who 
moves  the  world  by  being  "  the  object  of  the  world's 
desire."  Newton's  God  is  a  very  fine  mathematical 
physicist,  who  has  worked  out  all  the  delicate 
adjustments  of  the  universe  and  keeps  everything 
going  absolutely  harmoniously.  The  God  of  the 
Cartesians  is  a^  Master ;  jClockmakei;,  or  ratber_.a  yery 
superior  Choirmaster.  And  Berkeley's  Cod  is  -a 
Benevolent  Bishop,  who-  though  absolutely  suprema 
in  .his  diocese  allows  a  certain  amount  of  latitude 
tp  his  people. 

It  is  clear,  o_f  course,  that  merely  to  ascribe  to  God 
the  OTigij^^^mpi^njjyiL^^  at  explajia- 

tion,  is  to  say  nothing  at  all.1     Before  the  ascription 

1  When  we  blame  Berkeley  for  his  failure  to  bring  God  and 
motion  into  really  intimate  connection,  we  should  remember 
that  Newton  did  not  succeed  in  making  hia  theory  of  their 
relation  at  all  clear.  It  is  only  in  a  very  vague  and  general  way 
that  Newton  ascribes  to  God  the  ultimate  causation  of  gravity. 
In  the  second  edition  of  the  Principia  he  adds  a  general  scholium 
in  which  he  pays  to  the  Deity  a  somewhat  lengthy  but  apparently 
perfectly  sincere  tribute  ;  but  apart  from  the  prefatory  statement 


234  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

becomes  significant,  we  must  know  how  God  origi 
nates  motion,  how  he  communicates  it  to  finite 
spirits,  why  he  communicates  it  directly  to  bodies 
in  some  cases,  and  in  other  cases  only  through  the 
mediation  of  spirits  or  other  bodies.  None  of  these 
questions  is  squarely  faced  by  Berkeley.  Ii^jSim, 
indeed,  he  makes  use  of  the  mystical  Fire-philosophy 
which  is  prominent  in  that  work,  and  suggests  that 
God^jhe  Prime  Mover,  is  able  to  communicate_.ini- 
pressions  to  the  finer  and  subtler  parts  of  the 
elementary  fiery  spirit  which  moves  or  animates 
every  portion  of  the  world.  The  motion  that  is 
communicated  by  God  to  the  subtle  spirit  i^jgassed 
on  by  it  to  the  gross  and  corporeal  things  in  the 
world.  Thus,  as  fine  fiery  spirit  transfuses  minds, 
and  gross  fiery  spirit  bodies,  God  communicates 
motion  directly  to  minds  and  indirectly  to  bodies. 
Invisible  fiery  ether  is  the  medium  of  communi 
cation,  and  motion  is  the  actually  perceptible  mani 
festation  of  its  operation.1  And  that  is  all  that 
Berkeley  has  to  say  of  the  manner  in  which  God 
communicates  motion  to  the  world. 

So  far  we  have  been  considering  Berkeley's  account 

that  the  universe  proceeds  from  God's  counsel  and  power,  he 
makes  little  attempt  to  connect  God  with  the  actual  operation 
of  the  force  of  gravity.  In  the  third  edition,  however,  Newton 
expressly  denied  the  causality  of  blind  necessity  or  caprice,  and 
definitely  ascribed  causality  to  God.  "  Blind  metaphysical 
necessity,"  he  says,  "  which  is  certainly  the  same  everywhere 
and  always,  could  produce  no  variety  of  things.  All  that 
diversity  of  natural  things  which  we  find  suited  to  different 
times  and  places  could  arise  from  nothing  but  the  ideas  and  will 
of  a  Being  necessarily  existing."  (Cf.  P.  E.  B.  Jourdain, 
"  Newton's  Hypotheses  of  Ether  and  Gravitation,"  The  Monist, 
xxv.  247-8.) 
1  §  161  ff. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  235 

of  the  origin  of  motion.     We  are  now  to  examine  his 
theory  of  what  he  calls  the  nature  of  motion. 

In  De  Motu  he  confuses  the  discussion  by  referring 
in  vague  and  general  terms  to  Aristotle  and  the 
Schoolmen.  In  the  Principles,  on  the  other  hand, 
his  account  is  orientated  by  Newton's  distinction 
of  absolute  and  relative  motion,  and  his  treatment 
of  it  is  much  more  clear  and  adequate. 

Berkeley  argues  against  Newton's  conception  of 
absolute  motion  on  three  grounds. 

(1)  First  of  all,  he  raises  a  doubt  whether,  after 
all,  Newton's  absolute  motion  is  really  absolute. 
He  points  out  that  all  motion,  as  we  know  it,  is 
relative.  Take,  for  instance,  Newton's  example  of 
a  man  pacing  the  deck  of  a  ship.  If  he  stands  still, 
he  is  at  rest  with  relation  to  the  sides  of  the  vessel, 
but  he  is  in  motion  with  relation  to  the  land.  If  the 
universe  of  motion  and  rest — to  make  Berkeley's 
meaning  clear  by  using  a  convenient  term — be 
regarded  as  the  Earth,  then  he  is  in  motion  ;  if  it 
be  the  ship,  then  he  is  at  rest.  Normally,  Berkeley 
holds,  we  regard  the  Earth  as  our  universe  of  motion 
and  rest,  and  what  is  at  rest  in  that  universe  is 
considered  to  be  absolutely  at  rest.  But,  Berkeley 
urges,  that  rest  is  not  really  absolute  ;  it  is  still 
relative  to  a  certain  universe  of  motion.  However 
comprehensive  we  care  to  make  our  universe  of 
motion,  motion  in  it  will  always  be  relative,  in  the 
last  resort,  to  some  even  more  comprehensive 
universe.  Berkeley  is  thus  inclined  to  suspect  that 
those  who  speak  of  absolute  motion  really  posit 
nothing  more  than  a  very  comprehensive  universe 
of  motion,  which  does  have  limits,  e.g.  the  fixed  stars, 


236  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

and  is  thus  relative  to  some  still  more  comprehensive 
universe.  If  this  is  really  what  they  do,  then  it 
follows,  as  he  justly  says,  that  all  motion  is  ulti 
mately  relative.1 

(2)  Further,  the  conception  of  absolute  motion  is, 
Berkeley    affirms,    unnecessary.     Newton    believed 
that  it  was  essential,  for  the  purposes  of  mathematics 
and  mechanics,  to  assume  absolute  motion.     If  we 
allow  nothing  but  relative  motion,  Newton  urged, 
we  will  be  involved  in  serious  difficulties  and  am 
biguities,  for  one  and  the  same  thing  may  be  in 
relative  motion  in  different  directions  at  the  same 
time.     The  man  pacing  the  deck  of  the  vessel  may 
be  stepping  westwards.     Relatively  to  the  vessel  he 
is  moving  in  that  direction.     But  if  the  vessel  is 
sailing  eastwards  at  a  greater  rate  than  he  is  walking, 
he  will  really  be  moving,  relatively  to  the  Earth, 
eastwards.     Such  ambiguities  and  difficulties  as  these 
are  removed,  Newton  held,  by  the  assumption  of 
absolute  motion.     But  Berkeley  maintains  that  the 
difficulties  arising  out  of  the  relativity  of  motion  may 
be  overcome,  without  postulating  absolute  motion, 
if  our  universe  of  motion  be  sufficiently  comprehen 
sive.     And    he    holds,    though    without    adducing 
proofs,  that  all  the  laws  of  motion  can  be  proved  on 
the   assumption  that  the  only  kind  of  motion  is 
relative.2     This,  it  is  now  safe  to  say,  is  quite  true. 

(3)  In  the  last  place,  Berkeley  holds  that  absolute 
motion  is  not  only  unnecessary  but  is  also  impossible. 
In  support  of  this  contention  he  uses  two  arguments, 
one  of  which  seems  to  be  sound,  the  other  being 
certainly  absurd.     To  take  the  latter  first.     "  No 

1  Principles,  §§  111-115,  De  Motu,  §  64.       2  Principles,  §  111. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  237 

motion,"  he  says,  "  can  be  distinguished  or  measured 
except  by  means  of  sensible  objects."  x  It  can  now 
be  shown  that  there  is  nothing  in  this  argument. 
We  now  know  that  it  is  possible  to  measure  the 
motions  of  certain  things,  e.g.  the  undulations  of 
light-waves,  which  are  not  themselves  objects  of 
sense -perception,  and  do  not  require  objects  of 
perception  as  means  to  their  measurement.  But 
Berkeley's  second  argument  seems  to  be  a  perfectly 
valid  one.  "  Determination  or  direction,"  he  says, 
"  is  essential  to  motion  ;  but  that  consists  in  relation  ; 
therefore  it  is  an  impossibility  to  conceive  absolute 
motion."  2  Motion  must  always  take  place  in  some 
direction  or  directions,  and  be  in  some  respect 
determinate  ;  and  as  direction  is  meaningless  unless 
it  includes  some  relation,  and  determination  is  always 
determination  with  reference  to  something,  it  follows 
that  motion  must  always  be  relative.3 

So  far,  we  may  agree,  Berkeley  is,  on  the  whole, 
right  in  his  opposition  to  absolute  motion,  and  in  his 
positive  insistence  on  the  relativity  of  motion.  But 
he  goes  further,  and  in  this  case  that  means  too  far. 
He  extends  the  relativity  of  motion  to  mean  rela 
tivity  to  sense -perception.  The  motion  of  bodies  is 
reduced  to  the  succession  of  ideas  in  the  mind  of  the 
person  who  perceives  the  motion  of  the  body.  Thus 
the  rate  of  motion  of  the  body  is  proportionate  to 
the  rapidity  with  which  ideas  succeed  one  another 
in  the  mind  of  the  percipient.4  Now,  it  is,  of  course, 
obvious  that  a  moving  body  may  be  perceived  by 
more  than  one  person,  and  further  that  the  succession 

1  De  Motu,  §  63.  2  Ibid.  §  63. 

3  Principles,  §  112.  *  Principles,  §  14. 


238  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

of  ideas  in  A's  mind  may  be  twice  as  quick  as  in  jB's. 
In  such  a  case  one  of  two  conclusions  must  follow. 
Either  the  same  body  at  one  and  the  same  time  is  in 
motion  at  different  rates  ;  or  the  body  is  not  in 
motion  at  all,  motion  being  nothing  but  the  succes 
sion  of  ideas  in  A's  mind  and  in  B's.  The  latter 
conclusion  is  the  one  which  he  adopts.  In  accordance 
with  his  New  Principle,  motion,  one  of  the  so-called 
primary  qualities,  does  not  really  differ  from  the 
secondary  qualities,  and  is  therefore,  like  them, 
wholly  dependent  on  the  mind  by  which  it  is  per 
ceived.1  All  motion,  then,  is  relative  to  the  parti 
cular  percipient  mind. 

But  in  the  end  Berkeley  is  forced  to  re-introduce 
the  distinction  between  relative  and  absolute  motion. 
Just-  as,  in  his  theory  of  knowledge,  he  found  it 
necessary  to  postulate  the  mind  of  God  to  give 
permanence  to  things,  so  here  he  finds  it  essential 
in  the  interests  of  practical  life  to  assume,  the  exist 
ence  of  a  kind  of  normal  motion,  determined  by  the 
succession  of  ideas  for  God's  mind.  This  motion 
which  is  perceived  by  God  is  absolute  motion.  It 
provides  the  standard  of  motion,  and  with  respect 
to  it  we  correlate  our  private  motions.  The  motion 
which  we  actually  perceive,  i.e.  the  succession  of 
ideas  in  our  minds,  is  doubly  relative.  It  is  relative 
to  the  sense-organs  of  the  particular  percipient  being, 
and  it  is  relative  to  the  standard  of  motion  which 
exists  in  the  mind  of  God.  Berkeley  never  admits 
thatjbe  has  reinstated  the  old  distincjiim^beissceen 
absolute  and  relative  motion."  None  the  less,  his 

*  ' *  1>I       '  .  ****     '  ..      1 

premises  inevitably  drive  him  to  it. 

1  Three  Dialogues,  i.  400-401, 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  239 

So  far  of  motion.  We  must  now  consider  the 
closely  similar  attitude  which  Berkeley  adopts 
towards  the  cognate  problems  of  space  and  time. 

Berkeley's  views  on  space  and  time  are  determined 
by  the  theories  of  Newton  and  Locke.  If  he  is  to  be 
consistent  with  his  philosophy  as  a  whole,  it  is 
essential  for  him  to  maintain,  against  Newton,  that 
space  and  time  are  relative  ;  and,  against  Locke,  that 
they  consist  of  particular  instants  and  points.  On 
Berkeley's  premises,  Locke's  pure  space  and  time 
must  be  as  impossible  as  Newton's  absolute  space 
and  time  ;  space  and  time,  he  is  forced  to  hold  in 
conformity  with  the  particularism  and  relativism 
which  are  the  keynotes  of  his  whole  philosophy, 
cannot  be  other  than  particular  and  relative. 

If  we  consider  first  Berkeley's  attitude  to  time,  we 
find  that  he  reduces  time  to  an  experienced  succes 
sion  of  ideas.  As  the  world  consists  of  minds  plus 
ideas,  so  time  consists  of  a  succession  of  ideas  ex 
perienced  by  a  mind.  Now,  Locke  admitted  that 
this  succession  of  ideas  is  an  important  element  in 
our  awareness  of  time  :  it  supplies,  he  thought,  the 
sensible  measure  of  time.1  We  are  unable  to  measure 
time,  says  Locke,  which  is,  in  its  own  nature,  pure 
and  absolute,  except  by  means  of  the  sensible  canon 
of  time  which  is  supplied  by  the  succession  of  ideas. 
But  this  mere  succession  is  not,  Locke  insists,  in 
itself  time  :  it  is  merely  the  measure  of  time.  In 
opposition  to  Locke  Berkeley  argues  that  it  is  mis 
leading  to  distinguish  the  measure  of  time  from  time 
itself.  Nay  more,  he  urges,  time  itself  does  not 
exist  apart  from  the  ideas  which  we  experience.2 

1  Essay,  n.  xiv.  *  ii,  19. 


240  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

The  succession  of  ideas  wholly  constitutes  time,  for 
such  notions  as  Pure  Time  and  Time-in-general  are 
merely  fictions  which  owe  their  plausibility  to  the 
doctrine  of  abstract  ideas. 

Along  very  similar  lines  Berkeley  criticises  New 
ton's  conception  of  absolute  time.  Newton  had  dis 
tinguished  time  as  mathematical,  true  and  absolute, 
from  time  as  relative,  apparent  and  vulgar.1  The 
former  kind  of  time,  to  which  Newton  gave  the 
alternative  name  of  duration,  is  a  constant  process 
bearing  no  relation  to  anything  not  itself.  Relative 
time,  on  the  other  hand,  is  defined  as  a  sensible 
and  external  measure  of  duration,  e.g.  "  hour  "  or 
"  month."  Now,  on  Berkeley's  view,  the  only  time 
which  we  can  know,  and  which  we  need  allow  to 
enter  into  our  calculations,  is  relative  time.  It  is 
this  alone  of  which  we  can  have  any  experience. 
Not  only,  Berkeley  argues,  is  Newton's  absolute, 
true  and  mathematical  time  unnecessary,  whether 
for  the  purposes  of  ordinary  life,  or  for  the  investiga 
tions  of  the  physicist,  but,  since  we  can  form  no  idea 
or  notion  of  such  time,  it  is  logically  impossible. 

From  this  criticism  of  Locke  and  Newton  Berkeley 
concludes  that  all  time  consists  of  particular  instants, 
i.e.  particular  passing  sensations  in  the  minds  of 
percipient  beings  ;  hence  all  time  will  be  relative 
to  these  percipients. 

1  Tempus  absolutum,  verum  &  mathematicum,  in  se  &  natura 
sua  sine  relatione  ad  externum  quodvis,  aequabiliter  fluit, 
alioque  nomine  dicitur  duratio  :  Relativum,  apparens  & 
vulgare  est  sensibilis  &  externa  quaevis  durationis  per  motum 
mensura  (seu  accurate  seu  inaequabilis)  qua  vulgus  vice  veri 
temporis  utitur  ;  ut  hora,  dies,  mensis,  annus  (Principia,  Scho 
lium  ad  def.  viii.). 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  241 

Two  or  three  notable  consequences  follow  from 
this  view.  "  Time,"  says  Berkeley,  "  being  nothing, 
abstracted  from  the  succession  of  ideas  in  our  minds, 
it  follows  that  the  duration  of  any  finite  spirit  must 
be  estimated  by  the  number  of  ideas  or  actions 
succeeding  each  other  in  that  same  spirit  or  mind."  1 
From  the  first  Berkeley  is  aware  of  the  difficulties  of 
this  conclusion.  If  time  is  measured  simply  by  the 
succession  of  ideas,  then  the  age  of  a  fly  may  really 
be  as  long  as  that  of  a  man.2  But  not  only  is  the 
succession  of  ideas,  and  therefore  time,  relative  to 
the  particular  percipient ;  it  is  also  relative  to  the 
particular  state  of  the  same  percipient.  For  instance, 
the  succession  of  ideas  passes  more  slowly  in  pain 
than  in  pleasure.  Are  we  then  to  say  that  one  hour 
of  pain  is  really  a  longer  period  than  one  hour  of 
pleasure  ?  Berkeley  admits,  in  the  Commonplace 
Book,  that  this  seems  to  follow,  and  in  accordance 
with  his  extreme  relativism,  maintains  that  "  the 
same  TO  vvv  is  not  common  to  all  intelligences." 
Thus  each  man's  time  is  private.  If  the  succession 
of  ideas  is  more  rapid  for  one  man  than  for  another, 
the  times  of  the  two  men  also  vary.  In  the  Common 
place  Book  Berkeley  has  no  way  out  of  the  difficulty 
to  suggest,  though  he  must  have  seen  then,  as  he 
did  later,  that  the  very  description  of  the  succession 
of  one  man's  ideas  as  swifter  than  another's  implies 
some  standard. 

This  standard  of  time,  as  Berkeley  points  out  in 
Siris,  is  supplied  by  God.  God  causes  ideas  to  occur 
normally  with  uniform  regularity,  and  though  the 
sequences  of  actually  experienced  ideas  may,  vary 

1  Principles,  §  98.  2  Commonplace  Book,  i.  61. 


242  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

from  person  to  person  they  may  bo  co-ordinated 
with  the  standard  process  established  by  God.  But 
Berkeley  insists  that  this  normal  succession. of  ideas, 
though  it  exists  for  God's  mind,  is  not  in  it.  In  other 
words,  God  is  aware  of  the  ideas  which,  he  causes,  but 
the  actual  ideas  which  he  causes  do  not  pass  in 
succession  through  his  mind. 

It  is  fairly  clear  that,  as  in  the  case  of  motion, 
Berkeley  has  simply  reintroduced,  though  from  a 
different  standpoint,  the  old  distinction  between 
relative  and  absolute  time. 
as  the  experienced  succession  of 
but  social  relations  and  practical  activity  depend  on 
the  fact  that,  over  and  above  these  private  times, 
there  is  a  normal  order  of  events,  uniformly  produced 
by  God.  Time  as  it  is  for  God  is  absolute,  for, 
though  it  is  of  course  relative  to  God's  mind,  it  is 
absolutely  independent  of  auy  finite  percipient  being, 
and  therefore  supplies  a  norm  with  reference  to 
which  the  differing  particular  times,  of  finite  indi 
viduals  ruiiy  be  standardised. 

The  problem  of  space  is  treated  by  Berkeley  on 
closely  similar  lines,  and,  as  in  the  case  of  time,  he 
has  in  view  throughout  the  distinction  drawn  by 
Newton  and  Locke  between  relative  and  particular 
space  on  the  one  hand,  and  absolute  and  universal 
space  on  the  other.  Absolute  space  for  Newton 
remains  always  self -identical  and  immovable,  whereas 
relative  space  or  dimension  is  the  measure  of  absolute 
space,  and  is  known  by  the  relation  which  objects 
bear  to  our  faculties  of  sense-perception.1  Newton's 

1  Spatium  absolutum,  natura  sua  sine  relations  ad  externum 
quodvis,  semper  manet  similare  &  immobile  :  Relativum  est 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  243 

theory  is  repeated,  in  essence,  in  Locke's  distinction 
between  pure  space  and  place,  Locke's  place  corre 
sponding  roughly  with  Newton's  relative  space,  and 
his  pure  space  with  Newton's  absolute  space.  Pure 
space  Locke  regards  as  a  perfect  continuity,  having 
parts,  indeed,  but  parts  which  are  inseparable  and 
immovable.  This  pure  space,  which  is  continuous 
and  infinite,  might  be  called,  Locke  suggests,  not 
extension  but  expansion.  The  term  extension  would 
then  be  applied  "  only  to  matter,  or  the  distance  of 
the  extremities  of  particular  bodies  ;  and  the  term 
expansion  to  space  in  general."  l  Extension,  then, 
is  relative,  expansion  is  absolute  or  pure. 

In  opposition  to  Locke  and  Newton  Berkeley 
argues  that,  as  absolute  or  pure  space  is  an  impossi 
bility,  the  distinctions  which  they  had  been  at  such 
pains  to  establish  are  strictly  meaningless.  And 
why  does  he  hold  that  pure  space  is  simply  nothing 
at  all  ?  Because  we  cannot  know  it.  He  examines 
with  some  care,  in  De  Motu,  the  characteristics  of 
such  knowledge  as  sense-perception,  imagination, 
and  pure  intellect ;  and  concludes  that  absolute 
space  is  in  nowise  knowable,  and  must  accordingly 
be  admitted  to  be  merum  nihil.2 

He  points  out,  in  addition,  the  reason  why  absolute 
space  has  been  thought  to  be  possible.  Any  plausi 
bility  it  may  have  rests,  he  declares,  on  a  faulty 
psychological  analysis.  The  notion  of  pure  or  empty 

spatii  huius  mensura  seu  dimensio  quaelibet  mobilis,  quae  a 
sensibus  nostris  per  situm  suum  ad  corporum  definitur,  &  a 
vulgo  pro  spatio  immobili  usurpatur  :  uti  dimensio  spatii  sub- 
terranei,  aerii  vel  coelestis  definita  per  situm  suum  ad  terram 
(Principia,  Scholium  ad  def.  viii.). 

1  Essay,  n.  xiii.  27.  z  De  Motu,  §  53. 


244  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

space  is  reached  by  a  process  of  abstracting  all  bodies 
from  the  relative  space  with  which  we  are  acquainted. 
But,  Berkeley  argues,  when  those  who  defend  the 
conception  of  empty  space  perform  this  feat  of 
abstraction,  they  forget  one  most  important  thing. 
They  omit  to  abstract  their  own  bodies.  Thus  the 
so-called  absolute  space  which  they  reach  by  this 
process  of  abstraction  is  really  still  relative  to  their 
own  bodies.1 

Berkeley  mentions  still  another  difficulty  attaching 
to  the  conception  of  absolute  space — a  difficulty  to 
which  he  ascribes  very  great  importance.  The  con 
ception  of  absolute  space  threatens  to  toss  us  on  the 
horns  of  a  very  awkward  dilemma.  Absolute  space, 
if  it  exists,  must  be  conceived  to  have  the  same 
characteristics  as  God,  i.e.  it  is  "  eternal,  uncreated, 
infinite,  indivisible,  immutable."  2  Hence  we  must 
say  either  that  God  and  space  are  identical,  or  that 
there  exist  two  eternal  and  infinite  beings.  Both 
of  these  conclusions  offend  Berkeley's  religious  sense. 
The  former  is  dangerous  to  religion,  because  it  makes 
God  extended  ;  and  the  latter  sets  up  a  dead  being 
pari  passu  with  God,  and  thus  destroys  God's 
authority  and  supremacy.3  Berkeley  insists  that 
there  is  one  and  only  one  infinite  and  eternal  being, 
and  that  that  being  is  a  God  who  is  neither  space 
nor  spatial. 

For  all  these  reasons,  then,  Berkeley  maintains 
that  absolute  space  is  impossible  ;  and  he  refuses  to 
admit  any  view  of  space  that  is  not  relative  to  experi 
ence.  As  he  points  out  in  the  New  Theory  of  Vision, 
distance  and  extension  are  not  perceived  by  sight, 

1  De  Motu,  §  55.     2  Principles,  §  117.     3  Ibid.  §  117,  cf.  ii.  19. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  245 

but  are  suggested  by  touch  ;  and  thus  extension  and 
distance  are  relative  to  each  individual's  tactual 
experience.  Space  for  me  is  the  extension  that  is 
actually  suggested  to  me  by  touch,  or  in  other  words, 
space  for  me  consists  in  the  series  of  my  tactual 
sensations.  Similarly,  space  for  you  is  nothing  but 
the  series  of  your  tactual  sensations.  Thus  each 
individual  has  his  own  private  space.  The  paradoxes 
to  which  the  extreme  relativist  view  would  lead  are 
perhaps  not  so  obvious  in  the  case  of  space  as  we 
have  seen  them  to  be  in  connection  with  time  ;  but 
a  little  reflection  shows  that  if  each  man  had  his  own 
private  space,  and  if  it  were  impossible  to  correlate 
these  private  spaces,  social  and  practical  relations 
would  be  impossible. 

But  Berkeley  does  not  really  rest  in  the  extreme 
relativist  view.  He  assumes,  as  in  the  case  of  time 
and  motion,  that  God  exercises  a  normative  and 
correlating  function.  God  regulates  motion  in  space, 
so  that,  in  general,  the  distances  moved  by  bodies 
in  fixed  times  under  the  same  conditions  are  similar. 
By  observation  of  the  regular  working  of  the  laws  of 
motion,  the  private  spaces  with  which  finite  persons 
start  gradually  approximate  to  the  normal  space  in 
which  God  causes  motion  to  take  place.  Berkeley 
has  thus  again  rehabilitated  the  distinction  between 
the  absolute  and  the  relative. 

As  the  foregoing  pages  sufficiently  demonstrate, 
Berkeley's  treatment  of  the  problems  of  motion,  time 
and  space  is  of  but  little  intrinsic  value.  But  it  is 
interesting  as  an  example  of  the  application  of  his 
relativism  and  particularism,  and  interesting  too  for 


246  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

the  light  it  throws  on  his  dissatisfaction  with  rela 
tivism  and  particularism,  and  his  attempts  to  reach 
a  more  adequate  position. 


VII.  SIRIS:  THE  CLOSING  PHASE. 

Siris  was  published  in  1744.  Thus  more  than 
thirty  years  had  elapsed  since  the  appearance  of  the 
Principles  and  the  Three  Dialogues.  And  though 
since  that  time  much  had  been  written  by  Berkeley, 
he  had  published  little  dealing  directly  with  the  great 
problems  of  the  two  early  works.  But  during  the 
intervening  years  his  dissatisfaction  with  the  bold 
conclusions  of  his  youth  had  been  steadily  growing. 
In  a  letter  written  in  1729  he  apologises  for  these 
early  works  on  the  ground  that  he  was  very  young 
when  he  wrote  them.  "  I  do  not  therefore  pretend 
that  my  books  can  teach  truth.  All  I  hope  for  is 
that  they  may  be  an  occasion  to  inquisitive  men  to 
discover  truth,  by  consulting  their  own  minds,  and 
looking  into  their  own  thoughts."  1  Yet  along  with 
this  modest  appreciation  of  his  works,  so  different 
from  his  sanguine  attitude  when  he  wrote  them,  he 
retains  the  conviction  that  what  he  has  to  say  is  true, 
though  his  way  of  saying  it  may  be  faulty.  While 
continued  reflection  caused  him  to  modify  his  views 
on  many  points  of  importance,  he  still  held  fast  to 
his  architectonic  conception  of  the  mind-dependent 
existence  of  the  universe.  He  admits  that  his  inter 
pretation  of  this  truth  in  his  earlier  work  was  defec 
tive,  but  the  truth  itself  remains.  Thus  the  task 

1  Letter  to  Johnson,  ii.  18. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  247 

of  Siris  is  to  re-interpret,  on  a  more  adequate  basis, 
the  main  conceptions  of  the  earlier  books.  Different 
as  Berkeley's  earlier  and  later  work  is,  the  later  is 
reconstructive  rather  than  revolutionary. 

Siris  is  fairly  well  described  on  the  title-page  as 
"  A  chain  of  philosophical  reflexions  and  enquiries 
concerning  the  virtues  of  tar-water  and  divers  other 
subjects  connected  together  and  arising  one  from 
another."  Berkeley's  experiments  with  tar-water, 
commenced  during  his  stay  in  America,  suggested 
that  it  was  a  universal  medicine,  suited  to  cure  every 
disease.  It  was  natural  for  Berkeley  to  meditate  on 
the  ultimate  cause  of  the  provision  of  this  panacea ; 
and  reflection  on  the  problem  led  him  from  link  to 
link  along  the  chain.  The  book  seems  to  have  no 
prearranged  plan :  it  follows  whithersoever  the 
argument  leads.  Thus  the  fact  that  tar  is  a  vegetable 
product  gives  rise  to  a  dissertation  on  vegetable  life, 
with  special  reference  to  pines  and  firs,  from  which 
tar  is  obtained.  The  juice  secreted  by  pines  possesses 
mysterious  virtues  :  it  contains  an  acid  spirit  or 
vegetable  soul,  which  forms  a  most  noble  medicine, 
"  the  last  product  of  a  tree  perfectly  maturated  by 
time  and  sun."  *  After  this  an  investigation  of 
acids  in  general  leads  him  through  much  curious  and 
antiquated  chemistry  ;  and  thence,  as  the  acid 
spirit  is  supposed  to  reside  in  air,  to  an  enquiry  into 
the  constitution  of  air.  Berkeley  finds  that  air  con 
sists  of  a  treasury  of  active  principles,  through  which 
a  latent  vivifying  spirit  is  diffused.  This  is  Fire, 
Light,  or  Aether,  the  Vital  Spirit  of  the  universe. 
Thence  the  chain  leads  to  speculation  about  fire, 

1  Siris,  iii.  157. 


248  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

which  continues  for  nearly  a  hundred  sections,  in 
which  a  perfect  cloud  of  witnesses  is  adduced  in 
favour  of  the  view  that  fire  is  the  "  Animal  Spirit 
of  the  Visible  World." 

So  far  Berkeley  has  devoted  two-thirds  of  the  book 
to  physical,  chemical,  and  biological  questions  ;  he 
has  not  yet  touched  metaphysics.  But  he  believed 
that  natural  science  can  give  no  ultimate  explanation 
even  of  natural  facts.  Nature  can  be  interpreted 
only  by  a  metaphysic  which  postulates  that  the 
natural  causes  which  seem  to  be  responsible  for 
changes  in  the  realm  of  nature  are. only  natural  signs, 
which  presuppose  the  constant  operation  of  Mind  in 
and  on  the  universe.  The  world  of  nature  is  mind- 
dependent  :  its  reality  is  spiritual.  So  far  as  this 
great  principle  goes,  Berkeley  still  remains  true  to 
the  conception  which  has  inspired  his  philosophy 
from  the  beginning.  But  the  content  of  the  principle, 
from  the  point  of  view  of  knowledge,  is  now  very 
different.  The  first  and  last  periods  agree  that  the 
world  is  dependent  on  mind,  but  while  in  the  first 
period  Berkeley  interprets  this  to  mean  that  its 
existence  consists  in  being  perceived,  he  believes  in 
the  last  phase  that  reality  consists  not  in  being 
perceived,  but  in  being  known  or  thought.  From 
the  philosophical  standpoint  Siris  thus  contains  both 
a  metaphysic  and  a  theory  of  knowledge. 

In  his  metaphysic  Berkeley  repeats  his  criticism 
of  mechanical  explanations  of  the  world.  He  does 
not  deny  the  validity,  and  within  proper  limits  the 
value,  of  the  laws  of  natural  philosophy.  But  merely 
mechanical  principles  cannot  explain  or  account  for 
anything.  The  only  way  to  explain  a  thing  is  to 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  249 

assign  its  appropriate  efficient  and  final  causes,  and 
these  are  never  mechanical  principles. 

Mechanical  principles  such  as  the  laws  of  motion 
are  not  real  but  only  valid.1  The  laws  of  nature 
discovered  by  "  mechanical  philosophers  "  are 
merely  mathematical  hypotheses,  and  do  not  really 
exist  in  nature.  The  laws  of  nature  have  no  power 
and  they  can  produce  no  effects  in  the  world.  Laws 
of  nature  are  simply  statements  which  we  have 
formulated  as  rules  on  observing  the  uniform  pro 
duction  of  natural  effects  in  the  world.  Things 
happen  in  a  fixed  and  regular  order,  which  is  called 
"  the  Course  of  Nature."  Seeing  this  method  and 
order  in  the  world,  we  construct,  for  our  own  infor 
mation  and  practical  advantage,  general  rules  to 
which  we  believe  the  world  will  continue  to  conform. 
These  mechanical  laws  teach  us  what  to  expect, 
and  direct  us  how  to  act.  Laws  of  nature,  then, 
have  no  real  existence  :  they  are  simply  valid  hy 
potheses. 

Further,  they  are  arbitrary  hypotheses.  We 
observe  a  certain  constancy  and  regularity  in  the 
world,  and  we  construct  statements,  based  on  our 
observation,  which  we  call  laws.  But  the  constancy 
of  the  universe,  and  consequently  the  natural  laws 
which  we  ascribe  to  it,  depend  wholly  on  the  arbitrary 
though  not  capricious  will  of  God.  Berkeley  insists 
on  the  arbitrariness  of  the  action  and  reaction,  the 
attraction  and  repulsion,  which  we  observe  in  the 
world.  "  For  instance,  why  should  the  acid  particles 
draw  those  of  water  and  repel  each  other  ?  Why 
should  some  salts  attract  vapours  hi  the  air,  and 

1  Siris,  iii.  232-234. 


250  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

others  not  ?  "  l  Berkeley  admits  that  natural  philo 
sophers  have  discovered  certain  laws  of  gravity, 
magnetism,  and  electricity.  But  the  Author  of 
nature  might  have  decreed  that  the  world  should  be 
organised  according  to  entirely  different  rules  or 
laws.  Berkeley  therefore  suggests  that  in  reality 
events  in  the  world  depend  not  on  "  the  different 
size,  figure,  number,  solidity,  or  weight  of  those 
particles,  nor  on  the  general  laws  of  motion,  nor  on 
the  density  or  elasticity  of  a  medium,  but  merely  and 
altogether  on  the  good  pleasure  of  the  Creator."  2 

It  follows,  as  Berkeley  points  out,  that  events  in 
the  physical  world  and  laws  of  nature  cannot  be 
causes.  "  Nothing  mechanical  is  or  really  can  be  a 
cause."  3  All  that  the  natural  philosopher  can  give 
us  is  an  account  of  the  relation  of  sign  and  thing 
signified.  Berkeley  repeats  in  Siris,  without  deve 
loping  it,  this  dominant  idea  of  his  whole  philosophy. 
Now  a  sign  is  not  a  productive  or  active  cause.  It 
merely  gives  information  that  in  the  course  of  nature 
such  and  such  another  event,  the  thing  signified,  will 
occur.  But  ascaji§eJo£JB^£keley,  in  the  strict  sense, 
must  be  "  productive."  It  must  be  able  to  make 
things  occur.  All  causes  in  the  strict  sense  are 

o  ...  -         n      i  -*—___!""""''  "^      "*"~  ~-     -^^—      -*-*w-     -*"*•*• 

agents  ;    and  "  all  agents  are  incorj 


The  only  real  cause,  then,  is  spirit.  As  infinite-, 
this  is  God  ;  as  finite,  selves.  The  only  causality 
which  Berkeley  admits  to  be  real  is  efficient  and  .final 
causality.  God  is  the  supreme  efiicienjLajid_Jinal 
cause.  Berkeley  will  admit  no  tampering  with  the 
omnipotent  and  omnipresent  efficiency  of  God.  It 
is  "  vain  and  imaginary  "  of  Descartes  to  suppose 

1  Siris,  iii.  235.      2  Ibid.  iii.  237.     8  Ibid.  iii.  241.     *  Ibid.  iii.  240. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  251 

that  if  God  merely  set  his  vortices  going,  the  whole 
world  might  have  been  produced  as  a  necessary 
consequence  by  the  laws  of  motion.  Leibniz  has  a 
more  adequate  theory,  for  he  held  that  God  by  his 
immediate  causality  actually  created  the  world  as  it 
now  stands.  But  Leibniz  denies  the  omnipresent 
causality  of  God,  in  so  far  as  he  believes  that  God 
may  simply  leave  the  world  "  going  like  a  clock  or 
machine  by  itself,  according  to  the  laws  of  nature, 
without  the  immediate  hand  of  the  artist."  x  Berke 
ley  has  no  sympathy  with  efforts  to  extrude  God 
from  the  universe  by  allowing  him  the  doubtful 
privilege  of  being  a  "  remote  original  cause."  "  We 
cannot  make  even  one  single  step  in  accounting  for 
the  phenomena,  without  admitting  the  immediate 
presence  and  immediate  action  of  an  incorporeal 
agent,  who  connects,  moves,  and  disposes  all  things, 
according  to  such  rules,  and  for  such  purposes,  as 
seem  good  to  him."  2 

God  is  also  the  supreme  final  cause.     All  nature 

^ ***^^£b*^^^^^^*^£^f^—~*^^^^^**^'' 

is  under  his  direction,  and  lie  concerts  it  all  for  one 
end,  the  $uprem^j2Q37'Gfo(l  is  himself  the  Supreme 
Good,  the  great  principle  of  attraction  in  the  world. 
Throughout  Siris  Berkeley  gives  a  strong  teleological 
cast  to  his  thought.  "  All  things  areTHrade  f or  the 
Supreme  Good,  all  things  tend  to  that  end  ;  and  we 
may  be  said  to  account  for  a  thing  when  we  show 
that  it  is  so  best."  3 

In  Siris  finite  selves  exercise  only  a  very  limited 
causality.  Finite  selves  cause  only  those  actions 
which  are  strictly  their  own.  And  only  those  actions 
are  their  own  for  which  they  are  responsible.  Finite 

1Ibid.  iii.  233.         2  Ibid.  iii.  235-6.       3iii.  247  ;  cf.  iii.  278-9. 


252  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

selves  are  not  the  causes  of  natural  movements  such 
as  the  systole  and  diastole  of  the  heart.  They  have, 
in  fact,  a  real  causality  only  in  the  moral  realm. 
They  cause  only  those  actions  that  are  definitely 
willed,  and  for  which  they  have  therefore  a  moral 
responsibility.1  In  Siris  not  only  is  ,the  .-efficient 
causality  of  finite  selves  thus  limitecL,.  but-  they  are 
never  regarded _as  final  causes.  In  the  Three  Dialogues 
and  Alciphron  Berkeley's  universe  was  really. anthro- 
pocentric  ;  God  sustained  it  for  man's  benefit.  But 
in  the  metaphysical  parts  of  Siris,  man  and  his 
interests  are  entirely  subordinate  to  God. 

Berkeley  takes  pains  to  develop  ms  conception  of 
the  world  as  a  spiritual  system  and  organic  unity. 
He  insists,  on  the  one  hand,  on  the  element  of  differ 
ence  and  multiplicity  in  the  world.  At  first  sight, 
we  are  impressed  with  the  apparent  confusion  and 
disorder  in  the  universe.  But  this  is  not  the  last 
word.  Evil,  it  is  true,  must  exist ;  otherwise  good 
would  be  unmeaning  :  all  natural  productions  are 
not  perfect  ;  if  they  were,  perfection  also  would 
cease  to  be.  But,  as  Berkeley  everywhere  main 
tains,  it  is  the  harmony  and  not  the  confusion,  the 
unity  and  not  the  difference,  that  is  ultimately 
characteristic  of  the  universe.  Yet  Berkeley's  uni 
verse  is  not  perfectly  organic.  The  symbol  of  its 
unity  is  a  chain,  and  the  concatenation  of  the  links 
of  a  chain  is  external.  Still,  the  chain  is  one  chain, 
and  thus  bears  witness  to  the  unity  of  the  universe. 
In  Siris  Berkeley  has  a  mystical  veneration  for  unity, 
derived  largely  from  his  study  of  the  Neoplatonists. 
"  The  One  "  or  "TO  "Ev  "  appears  frequently  in  his 
1  Siris,  iii.  246. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  253 

pages  as  a  name  for  God,  or  alternatively  for  the 
universe.  The  «uprejne  principle  is jinity^, which  is 
spiritual  ;  and  whether  we  call,  it  God  or  the  world 
makes  very  little  difference.  But  Berkeley  prefers 
to  regard  the  unity  of  God  as  original,  a-nd  that  of  the 
universe  as  derivative.  "  One  and  the  same  Mind 
is  the  Universal  Principle  of  order  and  harmony 
throughout  the  world,  containing  and  connecting 
all  its  parts,  and  giving  unity  to  the  system."  1 

This  general  conception  of  a  mind-dependent 
reality  is  carried  out  also  in  Berkeley's  theory  of 
knowledge.  It  was  always  his  fundamental  idea, 
but  in  Siris  the  precise  meaning  of  it  has  changed. 
If  the  -pre-Siris  point  of  view  be  represented  by  esse 
is  percipi,  that  of  Siris  is  esse  is  concipi.  The  pro 
gress  of  Berkeley's  thought  has  resulted  in  a  gradually 
increasing  recognition  of  the  importance  of  the 
universal  element  in  knowledge.  Concurrently  the 
value  and  significance  of  sense-perception  has 
declined,  and  in  Siris  it  is  regularly  disparaged. 
Take,  for  example,  such  a  passage  as  this.  "  Sense 
and  experience  acquaint  us  with  the  course  and 
analogy  of  appearances  or  natural  effects.  Thought, 
reason,  intellect  introduce  us  into  the  knowledge 
of  their  causes.  Sensible  appearances,  though  of  a 
flowing,  unstable,  and  uncertain  nature,  yet  having 
first  occupied  the  mind,  they  do  by  an  early  preven 
tion  render  the  aftertask  of  thought  more  difficult ; 
and.  as  they  amuse  the  eyes  and  ears,  and  are  more 
suited  to  vulgar  uses  and  the  mechanic  arts  of  life, 
they  easily  obtain  a  preference,  in  the  opinion  of  most 
men,  to  those  superior  principles,  which  are  the  later 

1  Ibid.  iii.  262. 


254  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

growth  of  the  human  mind  arrived  to  maturity  and 
perfection  ;  but  not  affecting  the  corporeal  sense, 
are  thought  to  be  so  far  deficient  in  point  of  solidity 
and  reality,  sensible  and  real,  to  common  appre 
hensions,  being  the  same  thing.  Although  it  be 
certain  that  the  principles  of  science  are  neither 
objects  of  sense  nor  imagination  ;  and  that  in 
tellect  and  reason  are  alone  the  sure  guides  to 
truth."  ! 

Another  interesting  passage  reads  like  an  apology 
for  his  early  sensationalism.  "  Sense  at  first  besets 
and  overbears  the  mind.  The  sensible  appearances 
are  all  in  all :  our  reasonings  are  employed  about 
them  :  our  desires  terminate  in  them  :  we  look  no 
further  for  realities  or  causes  ;  till  Intellect  begins 
to  dawn,  and  cast  a  ray  on  this  shadowy  scene.  We 
then  perceive  the  true  principle  of  unity,  identity, 
and  existence.  Those  things  that  before  seemed  to 
constitute  the  whole  of  Being,  upon  taking  an 
intellectual  view  of  things,  prove  to  be  but  fleeting 
phantoms."  2  But  though  the  universal  element  in 
knowledge  is  now  by  far  the  more  important, 
Berkeley  still  retains  his  original  division  of  know 
ledge  into  sense-knowledge  and  notional  knowledge. 
"  There  are  properly  no  ideas  or  passive  objects  in 
the  mind  but  what  were  derived  from  sense  :  but 
there  are  also  besides  these  her  own  acts  or  opera 
tions  ;  such  are  notions."  3 

Sensible  things,  which  used  to  be  called  ideas,  are 

now    usually    termed    phaenomena.     Berkeley    no 

longer  believes  that  sensible  things  are  real.     "  All 

phaenomena  are  to  speak  truly  appearances  in  the 

1  Siris,  iii.  249.  2  Ibid.  iii.  265.  3  Ibid.  iii.  272. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  255 

soul  or  mind."  *  They  are  gross,2  and  fleeting  3  ; 
they  exist  only  in  the  mind,  a  fact  which  does  not 
prove  their  reality,  but  rather  how  far  removed  they 
are  from  reality.4  Perception  gives  us  knowledge 
only  of  the  surface  of  things  ;  it  cannot  enable  us  to 
reach  their  causes,  and  we  know  a  thing  only  when 
we  know  its  causes. 

"  Strictly,"  Berkeley  says,  "  the  sense  knows  noth 
ing."  5  "  As  understanding  perceiveth  not,  that  is, 
doth  not  hear,  or  see,  or  feel,  so  sense  knoweth  not : 
and  although  the  mind  may  use  both  sense  and  fancy, 
as  means  whereby  to  arrive  at  knowledge,  yet  sense 
or  soul,  so  far  forth  as  sensitive,  knoweth  nothing."  6 
In  order  to  have  knowledge,  the  element  of  judgment 
is  necessary.  Berkeley  always  believed  that  know 
ledge  is  possible  only  for  a  judging  self,  and  that  the 
real  unit  of  knowledge  is  judgment.  The  significance 
of  this  side  of  Berkeley's  earlier  philosophy  has  been 
strangely  overlooked.  Yet  this  is  precisely  the 
philosophical  significance  of  the  Theory  of  Vision. 
Distance,  for  example,  is  not  immediately  perceived, 
it  is  judged.  And  this  element  of  judgment  is 
involved  in  all  perception.  The  difference  between 
his  earlier  and  later  view  is  that  while  in  the  New 
Theory  of  Vision  he  holds  that  sense-perception 
includes  judgment,  in  Siris  the  element  of  judgment 
is  excluded  from  sense.  In  Siris  he  says,  "  We 
perceive,  indeed,  sounds  by  hearing,  and  characters 
by  sight.  But  we  are  not  therefore  said  to  under 
stand  them."  7  We  do  not  understand  them, 
because  in  order  to  understand,  we  must  judge  them 

1  Ibid.  iii.  243.     2  Ibid.  iii.  269.     3  Ibid.  iii.  290.     *  Ibid.  iii.  264. 
6  Ibid.  iii.  244.     6  Ibid.  iii.  271.     '  Ibid.  iii.  244. 


256  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

in  relation  to  other  sounds  and  characters.  The 
element  of  judgment  is  essential  to  all  interpretation, 
and  we  do  not  understand  a  thing  fully  till  we  can 
interpret  it  and  tell  what  it  means. 

In  Siris  the  supreme  importance  of  the  conceptual 
or  notional  element  in  knowledge  is  always  implied  ; 
but  very  little  definite  information  is  given  about 
it.  Instead  of  the  term  notion  Berkeley  now  prefers 
to  use  Idea.  But  Idea  (spelt  with  a  capital)  in  Sins 
is  very  different  from  idea  in  the  earlier  works.1 
The  new  doctrine  of  Ideas,  which  is  not  really  a  new 
one,  but  simply  an  old  one  rejuvenated,  shows  very 
clearly  the  influence  of  Plato  and  the  Neo-platonists. 
Berkeley  makes  no  secret  of  his  indebtedness  to 
Plato,  and  he  agrees  with  Plato  that  Ideas  are 
(1)  not  "inert,  inactive  objects  of  the  understanding," 
i.e.  not  ideas  in  Berkeley's  old  sense  ;  (2)  not  "  fig 
ments  of  the  mind,"  i.e.  not  the  products  of  the 
imagination ;  (3)  not  "  mixed  modes,"  i.e.  not 
complex  ideas  produced  by  the  operation  of  the 
mind  ;  (4)  "  not  abstract  ideas  in  the  modern  sense." 
What  then  are  Ideas  ?  They  are  "  the  most  real 
beings,  intellectual  and  unchangeable  ;  and  therefore 
more  real  than  the  transient,  fleeting  objects  of 
sense,  which,  wanting  stability,  cannot  be  subjects 
of  science,  much  less  of  intellectual  knowledge."  2 
These  Divine  Ideas,  which  are  abstracted  from  every 
thing  corporeal,  and  which  constitute  the  reality  of 
the  world,  are  so  difficult  to  know,  that  even  the 
most  refined  intellect  can  obtain  only  a  glimpse  of 
them. 

1  But  cf.  the  archetypal  Ideas  mentioned  in  Principles,  §  76. 

2  Siris,  iii.  286. 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  257 

This  supreme  universal  knowledge,  in  which  we 
see  all  things  in  God,  or  sub  specie  aeternitatis,  is 
therefore  impossible  for  the  ordinary  man.  But  he 
is  not  entirely  debarred  from  knowledge.  Berkeley 
attempts  to  bridge  the  gulf  between  this  pure 
universal  knowledge  and  sense-perception  by  making 
use  of  Plato's  conception  of  grades  of  knowing  and 
being.  This  gulf  may  be  conceived  to  exist  both 
logically  as  between  the  two  types  of  knowledge  which 
appear  sharply  distinguished  in  Siris,  and  historically 
between  the  sense-intoxicated  enthusiasm  of  the  Com 
monplace  Book  and  the  mystic  rationalism  of  Siris. 

(1)  Berkeley  is  at  pains  to  show  that  sense  and 
reason,  as  he  conceives  them  in  Siris,  are  not  cut  off 
with  a  hatchet  from  one  another.  They  are  logically 
related,  and  a  psychological  transition  may  be 
traced  from  one  to  the  other.  The  two  extremes  of 
what  is  grossly  sensible  and  what  is  purely  intelligible 
are  connected  by  memory,  imagination,  and  dis 
cursive  reason.  "  By  experiments  of  sense  we 
become  acquainted  with  the  lower  faculties  of  the 
soul ;  and  from  them,  whether  by  a  gradual  evolution 
or  ascent,  we  arrive  at  the  highest.  Sense  supplies 
images  to  memory.  These  become  subjects  for  fancy 
to  work  upon.  Reason  considers  and  judges  of  the 
imaginations.  And  these  acts  of  reason  become  new 
objects  to  the  understanding.  In  this  scale,  each 
lower  faculty  is  a  step  that  leads  to  one  above  it. 
And  the  uppermost  naturally  leads  to  the  Deity  ; 
which  is  rather  the  object  of  intellectual  knowledge 
than  even  of  the  disc7  ->.  ive  faculty,  not  to  mention 
the  sensitive."  * 

1  Siris,  iii.  269. 
B.P,  B 


258  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

(2)  This  gradual  ascent  from  sense  to  reason  may 
be  exemplified,  as  Berkeley  himself  sees,  in  the 
progress  of  his  own  philosophical  activity.  Histori 
cally,  the  relation  of  Siris  to  Berkeley's  early  work 
is  one  rather  of  evolution  than  of  revolution.  He  has 
travelled  far  since  the  days  of  the  Commonplace  Book, 
but  he  has  made  no  volte  face.  His  steps  have 
always  been  turned  in  the  same  direction,  and  each 
one  of  his  books  marks  a  stage  in  his  gradual  pro 
gress.  From  the  very  first  his  architectonic  con 
ception  has  remained  the  same.  The  universe  is  an 
organic  system  dependent  on  God  for  its  reality  and 
its  knowability.  It  is  a  spiritual  unity,  and  the  only 
forces  that  can  work  in  it  are  spirits.  This  general 
Weltanschauung,  remains  unchanged  from  first  to 
last.  The  problem  in  which  the  development  of 
Berkeley's  thought  is  notable  is  the  question  of  the 
relative  importance,  within  the  whole,  of  sense  and 
reason.  Berkeley  begins  in  the  Commonplace  Book 
(1705-8)  by  regarding  the  sense-element  as  practi 
cally  the  only  one  in  knowledge.  In  the  Principles 
(1710)  he  recognises  that  knowledge  requires  a 
system  of  universal  meanings,  but  postpones  the 
treatment  of  the  difficult  question  of  their  precise 
place  in  knowledge.  The  Three  Dialogues  simply 
repeat  the  general  argument  of  the  Principles  in  a 
more  popular  form.  But  in  De  Motu  (1721)  we 
find  once  or  twice  a  sharp  opposition  between  sense- 
perception  and  rational  knowledge,  and  an  evident 
disinclination  on  Berkeley's  part  to  adjudicate 
between  them.  In  Alciphron  (1732)  the  question  is 
for  the  most  part  avoided,  but.  the  whole  atmosphere 
of  the  dialogues  shows  that  the  trend  of  Berkeley's 


THEORY  OF  KNOWLEDGE  259 

sympathies  is  away  from  sense  and  towards  the 
rational  element  of  universality.  In  the  second 
edition  of  the  Principles  (1734)  hints  are  given,  in 
the  introduction  of  the  term  notion,  of  a  doctrine  of 
universal  knowledge  which  connects  itself  closely 
with  Berkeley's  original  appreciation  of  the  im 
portance  for  knowledge  of  a  system  of  universal 
meanings  or  identical  references.  But  so  far  there 
is  no  disparagement  of  sense.  It  is  only,  as  we  have 
seen,  when  we  come  to  Siris  (1744),  that  Berkeley 
explicitly  degrades  it.  And  concurrently,  reason  and 
the  universal  element  in  knowledge  proportionately 
increase  in  importance. 

Berkeley's  philosophy  ends,  as  it  begins,  with  a 
commonplace  book.  For  Siris  is  nothing  but  a 
commonplace  book,  in  which  the  thoughts  and 
reading  of  his  later  years  are  concatenated.  Much 
as  Siris  differs  from  the  Commonplace  Book,  there  are 
some  startling  similarities  which  bear  testimony  to 
the  underlying  unity  of  the  life  of  the  Bishop  of 
Cloyne.  In  both  books  the  practical  aim  of  Berkeley's 
life  is  conspicuous.  The  ultimate  purpose  of  the 
studies  of  the  Commonplace  Book  is  to  defend  the 
truth  of  Christianity,  against  sceptics  and  free 
thinkers,  and  in  Siris  Berkeley  expresses  again  and 
again  the  same  opposition  to  "  atheism."  All  his 
life  he  regarded  philosophy  as  the  handmaid  of  the 
Church.  Again,  in  both  books  Berkeley  is  inspired 
by  the  conviction  that  he  has  discovered  a  panacea. 
In  the  sanguine  pages  of  the  Commonplace  Book 
"  the  new  principle  "  is  destined  to  solve  all  the 
riddles  with  which  the  mind  of  man  is  plagued, 
while  in  Siris  tar-water  is  to  cure  all  the  diseases  to 


260  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

which  flesh  is  heir.  But  in  Siris  the  juvenile  enthusi 
asm  of  the  Commonplace  Book  is  tempered  by  the 
moderation  of  age.  Berkeley  is  much  less  sure  of 
himself,  and  sets  his  claims  for  his  work  very  much 
lower,  than  in  the  days  of  his  youth.  In  the  Common 
place  Book  other  thinkers'  views  are  mentioned  only 
to  be  rebutted  :  in  Siris  he  accumulates  the  testi 
mony  of  philosophy  ancient  and  modern  to  the  truth 
of  his  spiritual  conception  of  the  world.  In  the 
Commonplace  Book  all  things  seem  transparent  :  in 
Siris  he  is  forced  to  admit  that  "  through  the  dusk  of 
our  gross  atmosphere  the  sharpest  eye  cannot  see 
clearly."  And  this  is  doubtless  the  reason  why  in 
his  later  thinking  the  emphasis  shifts  from  theory  of 
knowledge  to  metaphysics.  Metaphysics  is  more 
congenial  to  the  spirit  of  the  man  who,  in  following 
out  the  causes  of  things,  is  trying  in  vain  to  pierce 
the  veil  past  which  he  cannot  trace  his  clues.  Omnia 
abeunt  in  mysterium  :  but  though  we  cannot  know 
in  full,  we  can  at  least  speculate. 


CHAPTER  J 

MATHEMATICS 

IN  this  chapter  we  shall  consider  Berkeley's  view  of 
the  relation  of  mathematics  to  philosophy,  and 
examine  the  criticism  of  mathematical  conceptions 
which  he  developed  in  The  Analyst. 

Mathematics  is,  on  Berkeley's  theory,  an  essentially 
practical  science.  The  view  suggested  in  the  Common 
place  Book,  according  to  which  mathematics  is  con 
cerned  not  with  theoretical  aKpifieiai,  but  with 
practical  problems  of  measuring  and  counting  actual 
things,  is  strongly  emphasised  in  the  Principles, 
where  Berkeley  states  that  he  looks  upon  all 
enquiries  about  numbers  only  as  so  many  difficiles 
nugae,  "  so  far  as  they  are  not  subservient  to  practice, 
and  promote  [not]  the  benefit  of  life."  l  To  the 
objection  that  the  New  Principle  destroys  geometry 
Berkeley  rejoins,  "  Whatever  is  useful  in  geometry, 
and  promotes  the  benefit  of  human  life,  does  still 
remain  firm  and  unshaken  on  our  principles."  2 
And  in  The  Analyst  he  suggests  again  that  "  the 
end  of  geometry  is  practice."  3 

Now,  Berkeley  believes  that  this  practical  science 
of  geometry  is  lower  than  first  philosophy.  As  early 

1  Principles,  §  119.         2  Ibid.  §  131.         3  The  Analyst^.  58. 
261 


262  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

as  the  Commonplace  Book  he  considers,  as  an  objec 
tion  to  his  sensationalist  theory  of  mathematics,  the 
view  that  mathematics  is  the  object  not  of  sense 
but  of  reason.  To  this  objection  he  immediately  re 
joins,  "  lines  and  triangles  are  not  operations  of  the 
mind."  l  To  make  the  point  of  this  reply  clear,  it 
should  be  remembered  that  on  his  view  the  operations 
of  the  mind  are  the  proper  objects  of  reason  or  pure 
intellect ;  and,  as  the  subject-matter  of  mathematics 
consists,  not  in  operations  of  the  mind,  but  in 
sensations,  it  is  the  province  of  sense-knowledge  and 
not  of  reason.  "  The  folly  of  the  mathematicians," 
he  ejaculates,  "  in  not  judging  of  sensations  by  their 
senses.  Reason  was  given  us  for  nobler  uses."  2 

In  his  published  works  Berkeley  sometimes  states 
quite  sharply  a  distinction  between  mathematics  and 
mathematical  physics,  forming  the  subject-matter 
of  sense-knowledge,  and  the  higher  and  more  ultimate 
"  transcendental  philosophy,"  which  is  the  sphere  of 
pure  intellect.  Thus,  in  the  Principles  he  distin 
guishes  mathematics  from  the  "  enquiry  concerning 
those  transcendental  maxims  which  influence  all  the 
particular  sciences."  3  And  in  De  Motu  he  insists 
on  the  difference  between  the  practical  and  pedestrian 
work  of  the  physicist  and  the  "  speculations  of  the 
highest  order"  belonging  to  "  a  more  exalted  science  " 
with  which  the  metaphysician  is  concerned.4  "  The 
physicist  has  in  view,"  he  says,  "  the  series  or  succes 
sions  of  sensible  things,  studying  the  laws  by  which 
they  are  related,  and  the  order  they  preserve  ;  and 

1  Commonplace  Book,  i.  22. 

2  Commonplace  Book,  i.  88  (italics  mine).       3  Principles,  §  118. 
4  De  Motu,  §  42. 


MATHEMATICS  263 

observing  what  precedes,  as  a  '  cause,'  and  what 
follows,  as  an  '  effect '  .  .  .  But  it  is  only  by 
reflection  and  reasoning  that  the  truly  active  causes 
can  be  elicited  from  the  darkness  that  envelops  them, 
and  thus  in  any  way  at  all  become  known.  Such 
enquiries  are  the  concern  of  first  philosophy  or  meta 
physics."  *  And  in  The  Analyst  he  suggests,  in  the 
tentative  manner  which  in  later  life  masks  his 
convictions,  "  Whether  there  be  not  really  a  philo- 
sophia  prima,  a  certain  transcendental  science, 
superior  to  and  more  extensive  than  mathematics, 
which  it  might  behove  our  modern  analysts  rather 
to  learn  than  despise  ?  "  2 

This  distinction  between  the  lower  province  of 
mathematics  and  mathematical  physics  and  the 
higher  sphere  sacred  to  first  philosophy  is  thus 
present,  in  germ  at  least,  throughout  the  whole  of 
Berkeley's  work.3 

Berkeley's  early  attitude  to  mathematics  has 
already  been  explained,  and  we  have  also  pointed 
out  the  respects  in  which  his  own  philosophical  con 
ceptions  were  influenced  by  current  mathematical 
views.4  All  this  it  is  unnecessary  here  to  recapitu 
late  ;  and  we  therefore,  without  more  ado,  proceed 
to  consider  the  argument  of  The  Analyst,  which 
contains  the  most  elaborate  treatment  he  gave  to  the 
problems  of  mathematics. 

1  De  Motu,  §§  71-72.  2  The  Analyst,  iii.  58. 

3  Possibly,  as  Cassirer  suggests,   Berkeley  was  influenced  by 
Scholasticism  in  making  this  distinction  (Das  Erkenntnisproblem, 
ii.  241). 

4  For   Berkeley's   view  of  mathematics  in   the   Commonplace 
Book,  vide  supra,  pp.  75  ff.  ;    for  the  way  in  which  his  theory  of 
signs  was  influenced  by  mathematical  conceptions,  pp.  209  ff.  ; 
and  for  his  application  of  algebra  to  ethics,  pp.  288  ff. 


264  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

The  Analyst  was  published  in  1734.  It  is  a 
curious  work,  and  though  its  purpose  is  ultimately 
theological  rather  than  mathematical,  it  gave  rise  to 
a  mathematical  controversy  which  lasted  for  several 
years  and  produced  more  than  thirty  controversial 
pamphlets  and  articles.  With  the  theological  argu 
ment  of  The  Analyst  we  have  little  concern.  But, 
before  passing  to  consider  its  mathematical  and 
philosophical  significance,  it  may  be  well  to  mention 
that  the  essay  is  primarily  intended  as  a  defence  of 
Christianity,  and  Berkeley,  acting  on  the  principle 
that  the  best  defence  is  in  attack,  criticises  the 
foundations  of  mathematics  on  the  same  lines  as  those 
on  which  Christianity  had  been  opposed  by  the 
"  mathematical  infidels."  Christianity  had  been  at 
tacked  on  the  ground  that  its  dogmas  are  mysterious 
and  incomprehensible.  In  reply  Berkeley  maintains 
that,  even  if  they  are,  Christianity  is  not  peculiar 
in  that  respect.  Even  mathematics,  universally 
admitted  to  be  the  most  demonstrable  department 
of  human  knowledge,  is,  in  this  regard,  in  exactly 
the  same  position  as  Christianity.  For  it  also  makes 
use  of  mysterious  and  incomprehensible  conceptions, 
e.g.  fluxions  and  infinitesimals.  If  mathematicians 
accept  mystery  and  incomprehensibility  in  mathe 
matics,  they  have  no  right  to  object  to  it  in  Christi 
anity.  This  is  the  kernel  of  Berkeley's  argument. 
Primarily  his  motive  is  to  defend  Christianity,  not 
to  attack  mathematics. 

Berkeley  has  often  been  regarded,  but  quite 
unjustly,  as  an  enemy  of  the  infinitesimal  calculus. 
In  reality,  he  had  no  objection  in  the  world  to  the 
calculus  as  such.  What  he  did  was  to  submit 


MATHEMATICS  265 

its  logical  basis  to  a  searching  examination.  He 
criticised  the  conception  of  infinitely  small  quantities, 
which  were  at  that  time  vaguely  conceived  as  neither 
zero  nor  finite,  but  somehow  in  an  intermediate  state. 
They  were  said  to  be  "  nascent  "  and  "  evanescent  " 
quantities,  not  quite  nothing  and  not  quite  anything. 
It  was  against  this  vague,  mysterious  and  incompre 
hensible  notion  that  all  Berkeley's  attacks  were 
directed  ;  and  as  soon  as  it  was  clearly  pointed  out 
by  one  of  the  parties  to  the  controversy,  Benjamin 
Robins,1  that  the  calculus  did  not  necessarily  involve 
this  conception  of  infinitesimals,  but  might  be 
demonstrated  by  the  method  of  limits,  Berkeley 
abandoaed  the  controversy.  He  had  replied  to  his 
other  critics,  such  as  Jurin  of  Cambridge  (Philalethes 
Cantabrigiensis)  and  Walton  of  Dublin,  because  these 
mathematicians  persisted  in  trying  to  defend  the 
conception  of  infinitely  small  quantities.  But  as 
soon  as  it  became  clear,  and  Robins  was  the  first  to 
make  it  so,  that  that  conception  was  not  essential 
to  the  calculus,  the  controversy  lost  interest  for 
Berkeley.  For  the  conception  of  limits,  as  Berkeley 
seems  to  have  realised,  is  not  incomprehensible,  and 
therefore  an  attack  on  it  would  not  have  enabled  him 
to  use  his  tu  quoque  argument,  and  thus  would 
no  longer  serve  his  purpose,  which,  it  must  be 
remembered,  was  primarily  theological.2 

1  Robins's  contributions  to  the  controversy  were  contained  in 
his  Discourse  concerning  the  Nature  and  Certainty  of  Sir  Isaac 
Newton's  Methods  of  Fluxions,  and  of  Prime  and  Ultimate  Ratios 
(1735),  and  in  a  series  of  articles  in  the  Republic  of  Letters  in  1736 
and  in  the  Works  of  the  Learned  in  1737. 

2  The  course  of  the  "  Analyst  Controversy,"  so  far  as  Berkeley 
was  concerned,  was  ag  follows.     In  1734  The  Analyst  appeared. 
It  was  almost  immediately  attacked  by  Jurin  in  an  anonymous 


266  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

But  though  Berkeley's  motive  in  writing  The 
Analyst  is  a  religious  one,  the  chief  importance  of  the 
book,  as  we  must  now  try  to  show,  is  mathematical 
and  philosophical.  It  is,  indeed,  an  able  treatise  on 
the  logic  of  mathematics.  Berkeley  saw  that  the 
brilliance  of  the  rapidly  accumulating  results  attained 
by  means  of  the  calculus  had  tended  to  put  into  the 
background  the  question  of  its  logical  basis  and  the 
validity  of  the  methods  employed  by  it.  And  he 
did  good  service  to  mathematics  by  the  publication 
of  The  Analyst,  for  he  forced  upon  mathematicians 
the  investigation  of  the  logical  basis  of  the  New 
Mathematics.  "  I  have  no  controversy,"  says 
Berkeley,  "  about  your  conclusions,  but  only  about 
your  logic  and  method.  ...  I  beg  leave  to  repeat 
and  insist  that  I  consider  the  geometrical  analyst  as  a 
logician,  i.e.  so  far  forth  as  he  reasons  and  argues  ; 
and  his  mathematical  conclusions,  not  in  themselves, 
but  in  their  premises  ;  not  as  true  or  false,  useful  or 

tract  entitled  Geometry  no  friend  to  Infidelity  ;  or  a  Defence  of  Sir 
Isaac  Newton  and  the  British  Mathematicians.  To  this  Berkeley 
replied  in  A  Defence  of  Free-thinking  in  Mathematics,  published 
in  March,  1735.  Jurin  then  published  a  rejoinder  in  July  of  the 
same  year.  Berkeley  took  no  notice  of  it. 

Berkeley  had  another  critic.  This  was  Walton  of  Dublin,  who 
published  in  1735  a  Vindication  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton's  Fluxions. 
It  was  replied  to  by  Berkeley  in  an  appendix  to  the  second  edition 
of  his  Defence  of  Free-thinking  in  Mathematics.  Walton  replied, 
and  Berkeley  then  published  his  Reasons  for  not  replying  to  Mr. 
Walton's  Full  Answer.  All  this  was  in  1735.  Walton  issued  a 
rejoinder,  but  Berkeley  took  no  further  part  in  the  controversy. 

It  is  noticeable  that  Berkeley  participated  vigorously  in  the 
controversy  until  Robins's  book  appeared.  After  that  he  says 
not  a  word.  The  reason  is,  as  we  have  said,  that  Robins  showed 
that  infinitesimals  were  not  essential  to  the  calculus.  Berkeley 
must  have  been  convinced  by  his  arguments,  and  therefore  realised 
that  it  was  no  longer  possible,  from  his  point  of  view,  to  take  part 
in  the  controversy. 


MATHEMATICS  267 

insignificant,  but  as  derived  from  such  principles, 
and  by  such  inferences."  x  As  a  direct  result  of  this 
investigation,  originated  by  Berkeley,  three  highly 
important  principles  were  firmly  established  (1)  that 
the  calculus  must  be  grounded  on  the  method  of 
limits,  (2)  that  the  then  current  conception  of 
infinitesimally  small  quantities  must  be  abandoned, 
and  (3)  that  the  calculus  does  not  proceed  by  means 
of  the  compensation  of  errors.2 

These  points  will  become  clear  if  we  examine 
Berkeley's  criticism  of  Newton's  theory  of  fluxions. 
In  our  investigation  there  are  three  main  questions 
which  we  must  ask.  (1)  Is  Berkeley's  criticism  of 
Newton  valid  ?  (2)  Is  Berkeley's  criticism  of  current 
conceptions  of  infinitesimals  sound  ?  (3)  Did  Berke 
ley  really  expose  any  fallacies  in  the  calculus  ? 

( 1 )  First,  then,  we  must  consider  whether  Berkeley 
is  successful  in  his  criticism  of  Newton.  To  know 
that,  we  must  know  what  Newton's  theory  of 
fluxions  really  was.  To  that  preliminary  question 
we  now  turn  our  attention. 

Newton  considered  that  quantities  are  continu 
ously  generated  by  motion.  As  the  ancients  believed 
that  rectangles  are  generated  by  the  movement  of 
one  side  upon  the  other,  so  as  to  describe  the  area  of 
the  rectangle,  Newton  held  that  the  areas  of  curvi 
linear  figures  are  generated  by  drawing  the  ordinate 
into  the  abscissa.  All  quantities,  including  indeter 
minate  quantities,  may  thus  be  regarded  as  generated 
by  continuous  increase.  All  quantities  which  thus 

1  The  Analyst,  §  20. 

2  See  Prof.  G.  A.  Gibson,  Review  of  Cantor's  "  Geschichte  der 
Mathematik  "  in  Proc.  Edin.  Math.  Soc.,  1899,  pp.  9-32. 


268  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

increase  by  motion  Newton  calls  flowing  quantities. 
The  velocities  of  their  increase  he  terms  fluxions, 
and  the  iniinitesimally  small  parts  of  these  quantities 
generated  by  the  continuous  motion  he  names 
moments.  Motion  in  time  he  regards  as  continuous 
and  uniform,  and  consequently  the  moments 
generated  are  all  equal.  Further,  and  this  is  one  of 
the  points  chiefly  attacked  by  Berkeley,  Newton  is 
prepared  to  calculate  the  increase  or  decrease  of  the 
fluxions,  i.e.  the  velocities  of  velocities  or  the  fluxions 
of  fluxions.  These  are  called  second  fluxions.  Such, 
in  very  brief  outline,  is  Newton's  position. 

But  there  is  one  special  point  which  must  be 
examined  with  some  care,  for  upon  it  depends  the 
applicability  of  Berkeley's  criticisms  to  Newton. 
The  question  is  this.  Did  Newton  really  use  the 
conception  of  infinitely  small  quantities,  in  which 
case  he  would  be  exposed  to  the  full  force  of  Berkeley's 
arguments,  or  was  his  method  really  that  of  limiting 
ratios,  in  which  case  Berkeley's  criticisms  would  be, 
so  far  as  Newton  is  concerned,  directed  against  a 
man  of  straw  ? 

It  is  often  held  that  Newton  never  used  the  concep 
tion  of  infinitely  small  quantity,  but  it  was  con 
clusively  established  by  Do  Morgan  that  this  con 
ception  does  appear  in  some  of  his  works.  Do 
Morgan  maintains  that,  until  the  year  1704,  when  his 
Opticks  was  published,  Newton  did  use  infinitely 
small  quantities.  "  In  Newton's  earliest  papers," 
says  De  Morgan,  "  the  velocities  are  only  dill'erential 
coefficients  :  when  A  changes  from  x  to  x  +  o, 

B  changes  from  y  to  y  +  —  ,  the  velocities  being  p 

P 


MATHEMATICS  209 

and  <\.  Those  terms  in  which  o  remains  an;  "  in 
finitely  less  "  than  (hose  in  which  it  is  not,  and  are 
therefore  "  Moiled  out,."  And  those  terms  also 
vanish  in  which  o  still  remains,  because  they  are 
itilinitcly  little."  l  A^ain,  in  tho  (irst  edition  of  the 
ia,  published  in  1GS7,  fluxions  a.  re  founded  on 
tesimals,  moments  beinj^  regarded  as  infinitely 
small  quantities.  l)e  Morgan  confirms  this  by 
relevant  quotations  from  Newton's  Method  of 
l''ln.ri<»ix  (written  in  the  period  1(17  I  H>7(i)  and  Ins 
Qwidrat-ura  durrarnm,  which  was  originally  written 
about  the  same  time.  So  far,  Newton  certainly 
made  use  of  the  conception  of  infinitely  .small 
quantities. 

liut  in  1701  the  Qiuidntli<r<t  ('nrnirnm  was  issued 
in  an  appendix  to  the  Optic.  lex.  It  contained  a  new 
preface  with  some  most  important  sta.tements  in 
connection  with  infinitesimals.  Ll  1  here  consider 
mathematical  quantities  not  as  consisting  of  minimal 
pacts,  but  as  described  by  continuous  motion.' 
"  1  was  anxious  to  show  that  in  the  method  of  fluxions 
there  is  no  need  to  introduce  into  geometry  figures 
infinitely  small."  3  Now  Berkeley  was  well  aware 
that  the  conception  of  infinitesimals  had  been  dis 
claimed  by  Newton.  In  the  early  essay  Of  liijinilr.* 
he  says,  "  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  in  a  late  1  realise,1 

1  "  On  tho  Kurly  IliHlory  of  InfmitoHinuils  in  Kngluml  "  (I'hilo- 
iitir.inr,  lH.r)'J,  iv.  .'t^!2-31!ii). 


8  "  Qinuititul(<M  MuMiiMiiiiticiis  11011  ut.  (^x  pti.rlihiis  <pimn  mini. 
HUH  (•(iiiHtiuilcH,  Hrd  ut,  iiiotu  rnnlimio  doHcripLns  liici  considoro." 

3  "  Volui  oHtondoro  cpiod  iu  MoUuidi>   Kliixioiuun  noil  optw  Hit 
Ki^uniH  iiiliiiili*   pn.rvii.H  in   (  Jcoinol  riaiu   inl.roducoro." 

1  ThiH    rofcfH    to    tho    Qinnlratiirti    dtirwirti.m.      Hork»»ley'H    Of 
Injiiiitr*  wan  writton  ahout  170(5-7. 


270  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

informs  us  his  method  of  Fluxions  can  be  made  out 
a  priori,  without  the  supposition  of  quantities  in 
finitely  small."  1 

But  in  1713,  when  the  second  edition  of  the 
Principia  was  published,  Newton  again  admitted, 
though  very  obscurely,  infinitely  small  quantities.2 
From  all  this  we  may  conclude  that,  while  Newton 
did  not  give  exclusive  adhesion  to  the  method  of 
infinitesimals,  yet  the  conception  of  infinitely  small 
quantity  does  occur  in  his  writings  previous  to  1704, 
and  though  it  was  renounced  in  that  year  it  re 
appears  in  the  second  edition  of  the  Principia  in 
1713.  It  therefore  follows  that  Berkeley's  criticism 
is  pertinent.  Newton,  we  have  decided,  did  main 
tain  the  existence  of  infinitely  small  quantities,  and 
it  is  against  these  that  Berkeley  argues. 

Berkeley  points  out  a  serious  inconsistency  in 
Newton's  conception  of  infinitely  small  quantities. 
He  shows  that  at  one  time  Newton  admits  that 
infinitely  small  moments  may  under  certain  circum 
stances  be  altogether  omitted  in  calculation.  Against 
this  he  arrays  Newton's  declaration  that  even  the 
smallest  possible  errors  must  not  be  overlooked  in 
mathematical  operations.  Now,  the  former  state 
ment  is  made  by  Newton  in  the  Principia  and  the 

1  Berkeley's  Works,  iii.  412. 

2  This  point  has  been  regarded  as  open  to  doubt.     It  depends 
on  Newton's  definition  of  "  moment."     The  definition  is  stated 
very  obscurely,  and  somewhat  differently,  in  the  first  and  second 
editions,  in  bk  u.  lemma  ii.     But  Edleston  cites  a  letter  from 
Newton  in  May,  1714,  to  Keill,  in  which  Newton  says  explicitly, 
"  Moments    are    infinitely    little    parts "    (J.    Edleston,    Corre 
spondence  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton  and  Professor  Cotes,  p.  176).     This 
seems  to  be  conclusive  evidence  that  Newton  still  clung  to  in 
finitesimals. 


MATHEMATICS  271 

latter  in  the  Quadratura  Curvarum.  The  two  state 
ments  are  obviously  inconsistent.  Berkeley's  critics 
tried  to  defend  Newton  in  various  ways,  but  neither 
of  them  dared  to  admit,  even  if  they  perceived  it, 
that  the  inconsistency  was  due  to  a  change  in 
Newton's  system.  In  the  Principia,  holding  a  con 
ception  of  infinitesimals,  he  is  forced  (precisely  as 
the  continental  exponents  of  the  Differential  Calculus 
were  forced)  to  admit  that  infinitely  small  quantities 
are,  in  calculation,  negligible  in  comparison  with 
those  of  finite  magnitude.  On  the  other  hand,  in 
the  Quadratura  Curvarum,  having  renounced  infini 
tesimals,  he  is  free  to  assert  that  even  the  smallest 
errors  cannot  be  permitted.  Robins  was  the  first 
of  Newton's  defenders  to  see  clearly  that  the  systems 
were  different ;  and  that,  if  Newton's  position  were 
to  be  seriously  defended,  it  would  be  necessary  to 
admit  frankly  the  change  of  system,  and  to  maintain 
that  for  Newton  the  really  fundamental  method  is 
the  method  of  limits.1 

1  Berkeley  has  been  accused  of  bad  faith  in  advancing  this 
criticism.  He  must  have  seen,  it  is  argued,  that  the  Newton  of 
the  first  edition  of  the  Principia  held  a  different  position  from  the 
Newton  of  the  Quadratura  Curvarum,  and  therefore  he  was  not 
justified  in  arraying  the  statements  of  these  two  periods  against 
one  another  as  evidence  of  present  inconsistency  (cf.  A.  de  Morgan, 
op.  cit.,  p.  329).  But  such  an  argument  overlooks  two  or  three 
very  material  facts.  The  first  is  that  Newton  himself  nowhere 
explicitly  admits  a  change  of  system  ;  in  fact  he  seems  anxious 
to  conceal  that  such  a  change  had  taken  place.  Further,  with 
the  exception  of  Robins,  Newton's  followers  were  far  from  clear 
whether  or  not  a  change  had  taken  place,  and,  in  any  case,  Newton 
seems  to  have  returned  to  the  conception  of  infinitely  small 
quantities  in  1713.  Now,  The  Analyst  was  not  published  till 
1734,  and  at  that  distance  of  time  Berkeley  may  quite  well  have 
regarded  the  renunciation  by  Newton  of  infinitesimals  in  1704 
as  a  temporary  aberration. 


272  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

This  is  what  Robins  did,  and  it  has  come  to  be 
realised  that  the  conception  of  limits  forms  the  true 
logical  basis  of  the  calculus.  Berkeley's  general 
criticism  of  Newton  is  perfectly  valid,  and  it  was 
largely  owing  to  his  objections  that  the  difference 
between  the  two  methods  came  to  be  fully  appre 
ciated,  and  that  eventually  a  method  of  limits  akin 
to  that  of  Newton  was  established  as  the  foundation 
of  the  calculus. 

But  in  two  respects  Berkeley  is  unfair  to  Newton. 

(a)  He  never  lets  his  reader  know  that  Newton 
used  the  method  of  limits,  and  always  speaks  as  if 
Newton  had  always  held  that  the  method  of  infini 
tesimals  was  essential  to  his  doctrine  of  the  calculus. 
Now,  the  truth  is,  as  Robins  pointed  out,  that  every 
thing  of  fundamental  importance  in  Newton's  work 
is  perfectly  consistent  with  the  method  of  limits. 

(6)  He  gives  Newton  no  credit  for  his  doctrine  of 
continuity.  Newton's  infinitesimals  are,  after  all, 
never  so  self-contradictory  as  those  of  Leibniz  or 
even  of  his  own  followers.  His  infinitely  small 
quantities  are  not,  like  Leibniz's  differentials,  dis 
crete  particulars.  The  Leibnitians  hold  that  the 
"  difference  "  of  a  line  is  an  infinitely  little  line,  the 
"  difference  "  of  a  plane  an  infinitely  little  plane,  and 
so  on.  And  Newton's  own  followers  used  the  con 
ception  of  infinity  in  an  equally  rash  way.  Thus 
De  Moivre  regards  the  fluxion  of  an  area  as  an 
infinitely  small  rectangle,1  and  Halley,  to  whom 
Berkeley  refers  in  the  Commonplace  Book,  speaks  of 
infinitely  small  ratiunculae  and  differentiolae  in  much 
the  same  way  as  the  Leibnitians.2  Hayes,  again, 

1  Philosophical  Transactions,  1695,  no.  216.  2  Ibid. 


MATHEMATICS  273 

another  follower  of  Newton,  to  whom  Berkeley  also 
refers,  maintains  the  conception  of  infinitely  small 
quantities  with  much  frankness.  "  Magnitude,"  he 
says,  "  is  divisible  in  infinitum.  Now  those  infinitely 
little  parts,  being  extended,  are  again  infinitely 
divisible  ;  and  those  infinitely  little  parts  of  an 
infinitely  little  part  of  a  given  quantity  are  by 
geometers  called  Infinitesimae  Infinitesimarum  or 
Fluxions  of  Fluxions."  l  Now,  Newton  himself  does 
not  speak  in  that  way.  He  never  forgets  that  his 
whole  system  is  based  on  the  continuity  of  motion. 
Lines  are  generated  by  the  motion  of  points,  planes 
by  the  motion  of  lines,  and  solids  by  the  motion  of 
planes.  Fluxions,  as  we  have  seen,  are  strictly  the 
velocities  of  the  generating  motions.  The  continuity 
of  motion,  generating  lines,  surfaces,  etc.,  with 
varying  velocities,  involves  the  conception  of  prime 
and  ultimate  ratios.  But  to  Newton's  theory  of 
continuity  Berkeley  seems  to  be  blind. 

(2)  Having  considered  the  respects  in  which 
Berkeley's  criticism  of  Newton  is  sound,  we  may  now 
proceed  to  ask  whether  his  criticism  of  infinitesimals 
in  general  will  bear  examination. 

The  general  criticism  of  infinitesimals  consists  of 
two  arguments,  one  only  of  which  seems  to  be  valid. 

(a)  Berkeley  argues — to  take  first  the  contention 
that  seems  unsound — that  infinitesimals  are  im 
possible  because  imperceptible.  An  infinitely  small 
quantity  cannot  be  the  object  either  of  sense- 
perception  or  imagination,  and,  in  accordance  with 
the  formula  esse  est  percipi,  it  can  therefore  have  no 

1  A  Treatise  of  Fluxions,  1704  (quoted  by  A.  de  Morgan  in 
Essays  on  the  Life  and  Work  of  Newton,  p.  91). 


274  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

existence.  "  As  our  Sense  is  strained  and  puzzled 
with  the  perception  of  objects  extremely  minute, 
even  so  the  Imagination,  which  faculty  derives  from 
Sense,  is  very  much  strained  and  puzzled  to  frame 
clear  ideas  of  the  least  particles  of  time,  or  the  least 
increments  generated  therein  ;  and  much  more  so 
to  comprehend  the  moments,  or  those  increments  of 
the  flowing  quantities  in  statu  nascenti,  in  their  very 
first  origin  or  beginning  to  exist,  before  they  become 
finite  particles."  l 

Now,  this  argument  is  simply  at  the  level  of 
picture-thinking.  It  does  not  follow  that  what  we 
are  unable  to  perceive  in  sense-perception  or  to 
represent  in  imagination  is  non-existent.  At  one 
time  Berkeley's  New  Principle  would  have  necessi 
tated  this  argument,  but  when  The  Analyst  was 
written  he  had  outgrown  the  cruder  form  of  his  early 
theory,  and  in  his  doctrine  of  notions  he  admitted 
that  we  can  have  knowledge  which  comes  neither 
through  sense  nor  imagination.  He  was  prepared 
to  allow  that  we  might  have  real  knowledge  not 
sensuous  in  its  origin.  His  retention  of  the  argu 
ment  here  is  a  sign  that  he  was  not  yet  completely 
emancipated  from  his  early  sensationalism. 

(6)  Berkeley's  second  general  argument  against 
infinitesimals  is  perfectly  sound.  He  points  out  that 
the  conception  of  the  infinitely  small,  whether  in  the 
form  in  which  it  appears  in  Newton  and  his  followers, 
or  as  maintained  by  Leibniz,  is  impossible.  It  is 
impossible  because  it  is  self -contradictory.  Whether 
we  regard  infinitesimals  with  Leibniz  as  differences, 
i.e.  infinitely  small  increments  or  decrements,  or 
1  The  Analyst,  §  4. 


MATHEMATICS  275 

with  Newton  as  fluxions,  i.e.  velocities  of  nascent  or 
evanescent  increments,  they  involve  in  their  nature 
an  ultimate  contradiction.  On  the  one  hand,  an 
infinitesimal  seems  to  be  something,  for  otherwise  it 
would  not  be  used  in  mathematics  ;  but,  on  the 
other,  it  seems  to  be  nothing,  for  mathematicians  say 
it  may  be  neglected  in  calculation  without  affecting 
the  accuracy  of  their  results.  Sometimes  it  is  called 
a  nascent  quantity,  i.e.  one  which  has  left  being 
nothing,  but  has  not  yet  quite  become  anything  ; 
at  other  times  it  is  called  evanescent,  i.e.  a  quantity 
which  is  still  something,  but  almost  (though  not 
quite)  nothing.  This  conception,  Berkeley  insists, 
is  ultimately  incomprehensible  and  contradictory. 
His  criticism  here  is,  of  course,  perfectly  sound. 
Infinitesimals,  conceived  in  this  vague  and  loose  way, 
have  now.  very  largely  owing  to  the  process  of  criti 
cism  initiated  by  Berkeley,  been  entirely  extruded 
from  the  calculus. 

(3)  The  last  problem  which  we  set  before  ourselves 
is  this.  Did  Berkeley,  apart  from  stimulating  the 
investigation  of  the  logical  basis  of  the  calculus, 
expose  any  real  errors  in  it  ?  From  Berkeley's 
argument  in  The  Analyst  it  would  seem  that  two 
main  errors  infect  the  calculus.  Berkeley  maintains 
(a)  that  any  attempt  to  demonstrate  the  value  of  a 
fluxion  involves  the  violation  of  ultimate  logical 
principles,  and  (6)  that  the  maxim  that  infinitely 
small  errors  compensate  one  another  is  vicious.  A 
word  or  two  must  be  said  on  each  of  these  points. 

(a)  In  order  to  prove  the  illogicality  of  the  methods 
of  determining  the  value  of  fluxions,  Berkeley 
examines,  in  some  detail,  the  two  independent  demon- 


276  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

strations  given  by  Newton.  In  the  Principia  Newton 
gives 'a  geometrical  proof,  in  the  Quadratures  Curva- 
rum  an  algebraic  one.  In  each  case,  Berkeley  seeks 
to  show,  a  closely  similar  error  is  committed. 

Take  first  Newton's  geometrical  demonstration. 
We  wish  to  find  the  fluxion  of  the  rectangle  AB 
generated  by  the  continuous  motion  of  one  side  upon 
the  other.  Let  the  moments  or  momentaneous 
increments  of  A  and  B  be  a  and  b  respectively. 

When  the  sides  of  the  rectangle  are  each  diminished 
by  half  their  moments,  the  rectangle  becomes 

(A-fr)(B-&), 
i.e.  AB  -  \aE  -  \bA  +  %ab. 

Similarly,  when  the  two  sides  are  increased  by 
half  their  moments,  the  rectangle  becomes 

(A+$a)(B+#>), 
i.e.  AB  +^aB  +\bA  +  \ab. 

Subtract  now  the  former  rectangle  from  the  latter, 
and  the  remainder  is  aB  +bA.  This  remainder  is 
the  moment  of  the  rectangle  generated  by  the 
moments,  a,  b  of  the  sides.  Such  is  Newton's  proof. 
In  criticism  of  it  Berkeley  maintains  that  the 
natural  and  direct  method  of  obtaining  the  moment 
of  the  rectangle  AB,  when  the  moments  of  its  sides 
are  a,  b,  is  to  multiply  into  one  another  the  sides 
increased  respectively  by  their  whole  moments.1 
The  moment  of  the  rectangle  is  therefore 

(A+a)(B+b)-AB, 

i.e.  AB  +aB  +bA  +ab  -  AB, 

i.e.  aB  +bA  +ab. 

1  The  Analyst,  §§  9  ff. 


MATHEMATICS  277 

This,  Berkeley  says,  is  the  true  moment  or  incre 
ment.  It  differs  from  that  obtained  by  Newton's 
proof  by  the  quantity  oh.  Now,  as  it  was  essential 
for  the  method  of  fluxions  to  eliminate  the  term  ab, 
Newton  and  his  followers  said  that  it  was  so  infinitely 
small  that  it  could  simply  be  neglected.  But  against 
this  defence  Berkeley  quotes  Newton's  own  words, 
"  In  rebus  mathematicis  errores  quam  minimi  non 
sunt  contemnendi."  i 

Berkeley  also  shows  that  Newton's  algebraic  proof 
rests  on  illegitimate  assumptions.2  In  this  demon 
stration  we  are  given  the  uniformly  flowing  quantity 
x,  and  it  is  required  to  find  the  fluxion  of  xn. 

Suppose  that  x,  in  process  of  constant  flux, 
becomes  x  +o,  then  xn  becomes  (x  +o)n.  Expanding 
this  by  the  method  of  infinite  series,  we  get 

fy\  I  /yi    _    "I   \ 

xn  +noxn~1  +    v        -oV*-2+... 

£ 

/y\   I  /yi    _    1  \ 

(i.e.  the  increment  of  xn  is  noxn~l  +  -  -  -  o*xn~2  +  ...). 

£t 

It  follows  that  the  increments  of  x  and  xn  are 

yi  (M    _    1  \ 

to  each  other  as  o  to  noxn~l+-          —  o2xn~2  +...  ; 

Zt 

or,  dividing  by  the  common  quantity  o,  as 


Now,  "  let  the  increments  vanish,"  and  the  last 
or  limiting  proportion  is  1  :  nxn~1.  The  ratio  of  the 
fluxion  of  x  to  that  of  xn  is  as  1  is  to  nxn~l. 

1  These  words  occur  in  the   Introduction  to   the  Quadratura 
Curvarum. 

2  The  Analyst,  §§  13  ff. 


278  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Berkeley  points  out  that  this  reasoning  is  illogical. 
If  we  say,  "  Let  the  increments  vanish,"  we  must 
imply  that  the  increments  are  really  nothing,  seeing 
that  they  are  negligible.  But  we  are  enabled  to 
arrive  at  the  proportion  between  the  fluxions  only 
by  assuming  that  the  increments  are  something. 
Berkeley  accordingly  maintains  that  it  is  illogical 
to  reject  the  increments  and  still  retain  an  expression, 
i.e.  the  proportion  of  the  fluxions,  obtained  by  means 
of  them.  If  we  let  the  increments  vanish,  we  must 
also  in  consistency  let  everything  derived  from  the 
supposition  of  their  existence  vanish  with  them. 

This  criticism  Berkeley  supports  with  a  lemma, 
which  he  states  as  follows,  "  If,  with  a  view  to 
demonstrate  any  proposition,  a  certain  point  is 
supposed,  by  virtue  of  which  certain  other  points 
are  attained  ;  and  such  supposed  point  be  itself 
afterwards  destroyed  or  rejected  by  a  contrary 
supposition ;  in  that  case,  all  the  other  points 
attained  thereby,  and  consequent  thereupon,  must 
also  be  destroyed  and  rejected,  so  as  from  thence 
forward  to  be  no  more  supposed  or  applied  in  the 
demonstration."  l 

(b)  Berkeley  goes  on  to  urge  that,  even  though 
correct  results  are  attained  by  the  application  of  the 
method  of  fluxions,  that  does  not  validate  the 
method  as  method.  That  the  conclusion  of  a  syllo 
gism  is  true  does  not  necessarily  imply  that  the 
process  of  reasoning  is  correct.  The  conclusion  may 
be  true,  and  yet  logical  errors  may  have  been  com 
mitted  in  the  process  of  proof.  It  is  possible  to 
reach  a  true  conclusion  from  false  premises  by 

1  The  Analyst,  §  12. 


MATHEMATICS  279 

erroneous  reasoning.  One  error  compensates  the 
other.  Though  the  conclusion  is  true,  the  logic  is 
faulty.  Precisely  similar  is  the  case  of  the  calculus. 
True  conclusions  may  be  attained  by  it,  and  results 
of  great  practical  value  may  be  achieved,  but  its 
method  is  unsound,  because  it  is  based  upon  the 
vicious  principle  of  the  compensation  of  errors. 

These,  then,  are  the  arguments  which  Berkeley 
advances  in  The  Analyst.  In  the  controversy  which 
ensued  all  the  points  that  he  raised  were  traversed 
and  retraversed,  with  the  result  that  (1)  the  vague 
conception  of  infinitesimals  is  abandoned,  (2)  the 
method  of  limiting  ratios  becomes  firmly  established, 
and  (3)  the  principle  of  the  compensation  of  errors 
is  seen  to  be  inconsistent  with  the  logical  foundation 
of  the  calculus. 

But  the  result  of  the  controversy  may  be  stated 
in  more  philosophical  terms.  It  may  be  said  to  have 
established  the  principle  of  continuity  as  opposed 
to  that  of  discreteness.  Discreteness,  whether  in 
the  form  of  the  indivisibles  of  Cavalieri,  or  the 
momentaneous  increments  of  Newton's  followers,  or 
the  differentials  of  Leibniz,  was  found  to  be  incom 
prehensible.  But  the  principle  of  continuity  is 
firmly  grounded. 

Thus,  though  Berkeley  was  successful  at  most  of 
the  particular  points  in  the  controversy,  the  philo 
sophical  conclusion  to  be  based  upon  these  results 
was  alien  to  his  way  of  thinking.  For  his  own 
philosophy  lays  all  the  stress  on  discreteness  at  the 
expense  of  continuity.  For  him,  there  are  no  really 
continuous  lines,  for  every  line  consists  of  an  infinite 
number  of  atomic  and  therefore  discrete  points. 


280  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

A  curve  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  generated  by  a 
continuously  moving  ray  ;  it  also  is  composed  of  a 
finite  number  of  discrete  points.  The  objects  of 
perception  are  not  continua  into  which  differentia 
tion  is  introduced  ;  they  are  complexes  of  numeri 
cally  distinct  and  atomic  minima  sensibilia. 
Berkeley  does,  indeed,  use  the  term  "  continuity," 
but  by  that  he  means  nothing  but  discreteness.  He 
says,  for  instance,  in  the  Commonplace  Book,  "  Why 
may  not  I  say  visible  extension  is  a  continuity  of 
visible  points,  tangible  extension  is  a  continuity  of 
tangible  points  ?  "  1  What  he  really  means  by  con 
tinuity  here  is  that,  according  to  his  theory,  visible 
extension  is  a  mere  aggregate  of  discrete  minima 
visibilia,  and  tangible  extension  a  mere  aggregate  of 
minima  tangibilia.  His  conception  of  mathematical 
knowledge  is  completely  atomistic. 

Everywhere  in  Berkeley's  philosophy  we  find  the 
same  penchant  to  discreteness.  Throughout  he 
lays  emphasis  on  the  discrete,  the  finite,  the  parti 
cular,  as  against  the  continuous,  the  infinite,  and  the 
universal. 

But  this  emphasis  is  very  considerably  modified 
in  Siris,  Berkeley's  only  important  work  after  The 
Analyst.  In  Siris,  as  we  have  seen,  he  shows  very 
much  greater  appreciation  than  before  for  what  may 
be  called,  for  short,  universality  and  absoluteness. 
But  his  theory  of  mathematical  knowledge  has 
neither  part  nor  lot  in  this  change  of  attitude. 
Mathematics  remains  on  the  old  plane  of  sense  and 
particularity.  Thus  is  consummated  the  tendency, 
suggested  even  in  the  pre-Siris  works,  to  distinguish 

1  i.  63. 


MATHEMATICS  281 

sharply  between  mathematical  science  and  trans 
cendental  philosophy.  It  is  only  because  this 
distinction  is  present  in  Siris  that  Berkeley  is  able 
to  maintain  his  sensationalist  view  of  mathematics 
alongside  his  altered  metaphysics.  In  his  view, 
mathematics  is  in  a  different  compartment  of  know 
ledge  from  first  philosophy  ;  therefore  it  may  be  left 
to  itself  at  its  lower  station,  for  it  will  not  be 
affected  by  the  speculations  carried  on  at  the 
heights  of  transcendental  philosophy. 


CHAPTER  VI 

ETHICS 

THOUGH  Berkeley  published  no  systematic  ethical 
treatise,  it  is  certain  that  at  one  time  he  intended  to 
write  in  detail  on  the  problems  of  morality.  In  the 
sanguine  pages  of  the  Commonplace  Book,  the  New 
Principle  is  destined  to  simplify  all  sciences  and  solve 
every  difficulty.  In  the  expectation  of  its  author,  it 
will  "  remove  the  mist  or  veil  of  words,"1  and  enable 
men  to  see  things  as  they  really  are.  And  in  the 
Principles  the  claims  which  he  puts  forward  on 
behalf  of  the  New  Principle  are  as  insistent  as  ever. 
It  will  "  abridge  the  labour  of  study,  and  make 
human  sciences  more  clear,  compendious,  and 
attainable  than  they  were  before." 2  After  this 
assertion,  he  goes  on  to  state  some  of  the  conse 
quences  of  the  theory  in  mathematics  and  natural 
philosophy.  Now,  in  his  view,  these  branches  of 
science  form  two  of  the  three  departments  of 
useful  knowledge,  the  third  being  ethics.  He 
believed  that  there  are  three  kinds  of  truth — 
natural,  mathematical,  and  moral — which  are  to  be 
found  respectively  in  what  he  calls  the  three  depart 
ments  of  useful  knowledge,  viz.  natural  philosophy, 
1  i.  33.  2  Op.  cit.  §  134. 

282 


ETHICS  283 

mathematics,  and  ethics.1  Thus,  in  order  to  com 
plete  his  scheme  in  the  Principles,  as  he  has  already 
mentioned  the  consequences  of  the  New  Principle  in 
two  of  the  three  departments  of  useful  knowledge, 
he  ought  to  have  given  some  indication  of  the 
application  of  the  theory  to  ethics.  But  only  the 
vaguest  hint  is  dropped.  If  the  Principle  be  applied 
to  morals,  he  says,  "  errors  of  dangerous  consequence 
in  morality  .  .  .  may  be  cleared,  and  truth  appear 
plain,  uniform,  and  consistent."  "  But,"  he  con 
tinues,  "  the  difficulties  arising  on  this  head  demand 
a  more  particular  disquisition  than  suits  with  the 
design  of  this  treatise."  2  That  Berkeley  himself 
regarded  this  non-committal  statement  as  tanta 
mount  to  a  promise  to  deal  specially  with  ethics  is 
suggested  by  the  fact  that  this  sentence  was  omitted 
in  the  second  edition  of  the  Principles,  which  was 
published  after  he  had  abandoned  the  design  of 
the  special  dissertation.  And,  indeed,  we  know 
definitely  from  a  statement  in  the  Commonplace  Boole 
that  the  treatise  in  which  it  was  his  purpose  to  deal 
with  ethics  was  the  projected  Part  II.  of  the 
Principles*  But,  as  we  have  already  mentioned, 
the  unfinished  manuscript  of  it  was  lost  during  his 
travels  in  Italy,  and  he  never  attempted  to  re 
write  it. 

But  though  accident  has  deprived  us  of  this 
specifically  ethical  work,  yet  there  is  a  fair  amount 
of  material  on  ethical  subjects  scattered  up  and  down 

1  Commonplace  Book,  i.  37.  2  Principles,  §  144. 

3  "  The  two  great  principles  of  morality,"  he  says,  "to  be 
handled  at  the  beginning  of  the  Second  Book."  There  is  no 
doubt  that  the  "  Second  Book  "  refers  to  Part  II.  of  the  Principles. 


284  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Berkeley's  writings.  It  is  enough  not  only  to  enable 
us  to  reconstruct  the  main  outlines  of  Berkeley's 
views,  but  also  to  trace  their  development.  The 
Commonplace  Book  teems  with  suggestive  remarks 
which  probably  give  some  idea  of  the  argument  of 
the  lost  Part  II.  of  the  Principles,  Passive  Obedience 
is,  in  the  main,  an  ethical  treatise,  two  of  the  essays 
in  the  Guardian  and  three  of  the  dialogues  in 
Alciphron  are  chiefly  concerned  with  morals,  and 
there  are  a  few  hints  in  the  Principles  and  Siris. 

In  the  Commonplace  Book  the  facts  of  morality  are 
prominently  before  Berkeley's  mind.  In  ethics,  as 
in  other  departments  of  philosophy,  he  was  deeply 
influenced  by  Locke.  Many  of  the  entries  in  the 
Commonplace  Book  are  unintelligible  unless  it  is 
remembered  that  they  have  Locke  in  view.  We 
find,  for  example,  such  isolated  entries  as,  "  Morality 
may  be  demonstrated  as  mixt  Mathematics,"  i 
"  Three  sorts  of  useful  knowledge — that  of  Co 
existence,  to  be  treated  of  in  our  principles  of  Natural 
Philosophy  ;  that  of  Relation,  in  Mathematics  ;  that 
of  Definition  or  inclusion,  or  words  (which  per 
haps  differs  not  from  that  of  relation)  in  Morality."  2 
Most  of  Berkeley's  memoranda  on  ethics  in  the 
Commonplace  Book  reveal  or  conceal  a  reference  to 
Locke  ;  and  in  order  to  appreciate  their  significance, 
it  is  necessary  to  bear  in  mind  Locke's  theory  of 
ethics. 

For  Locke  ethics  is  a  perfectly  demonstrable 
science,  because  in  ethics  we  have  real  knowledge. 
He  treats  of  the  reality  of  knowledge  in  Book  IV. 
Chapter  iv.  of  the  Essay — a  chapter  which  Berkeley 

1  i.  46.  2  i.  55. 


ETHICS  285 

reminds  himself  in  the  Commonplace  Book  "  to 
discuss  nicely  " — and  maintains  that  our  knowledge 
is  real  only  so  far  as  there  is  a  conformity  between 
our  ideas  and  real  things.1  Locke  is  aware  of  the 
difficulty  how  the  mind,  which  perceives  nothing 
but  its  own  ideas,  can  yet  know  that  these  ideas 
agree  with  things  ;  but  he  thinks  that  there  are 
"  two  sorts  of  ideas  that  we  may  be  assured  agree 
with  things."  These  are  (A)  all  simple  ideas,  and 
(B)  all  complex  ideas,  except  those  of  substance. 
But  the  grounds  on  which  we  ascribe  reality  to 
knowledge  in  the  case  of  these  two  sorts  of  ideas  are 
very  different.  Simple  ideas  give  us  real  knowledge 
because  they  are  regularly  and  naturally  produced 
in  us  by  the  operation  of  things  outside  us.  This 
uniform  production  guarantees  the  conformity  of 
ideas  to  things.  On  the  other  hand,  complex  ideas 
are  produced  by  the  mind  itself,  independently  of 
things.  They  are  ideas  which  the  mind  puts 
together  without  considering  any  connection  they 
may  have  in  nature.  Ideas  are  the  archetypes,  and 
things  are  considered  at  all  only  in  so  far  as  they 
conform  to  them.  In  (A)  ideas  conform  to  things  ; 
in  (B)  things  conform  to  ideas.  In  both  cases 
conformity  can  be  predicated,  and  therefore  in  both 
cases  we  have  real  knowledge. 

Locke  gives  two  examples  of  sciences  in  which  we 
have  this  real  knowledge,  mathematics  and  ethics. 
Both  these  sciences  consist  of  perfectly  demonstrable 
propositions.  Both  are  concerned  not  with  simple 
ideas,  which  always  imply  as  their  archetypes  con 
crete  things,  but  with  complex  ideas,  which  are  their 

1  Essay,  iv.  iv.  3. 


286  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

own  archetypes.  Mathematics  and  ethics  deal 
entirely  with  those  abstract  ideas,  which  Locke  calls 
mixed  modes  and  relations.  These  have  no  concrete 
existence,  but  they  give  us  real  knowledge.  "  Mixed 
modes  and  relations,  having  no  other  reality  but 
what  they  have  in  the  minds  of  men,  there  is  nothing 
more  required  of  those  ideas  to  make  them  real  but 
that  they  be  so  framed  that  there  is  a  possibility  of 
existing  conformable  to  them."  *  In  mathematics 
we  abstract  from  all  the  implications  of  concrete 
existence.  The  mathematician  considers  the  pro 
perties  of  circle  or  triangle  as  abstract  ideas.  It  is 
true  of  the  idea  of  a  triangle  that  the  sum  of  its 
angles  is  equal  to  two  right  angles.  The  idea  of  a 
triangle  is  so  framed  as  to  make  it  possible  that  a 
real  concrete  triangle  should  exist  conformable  to  it. 
But  whether  such  a  "  real  "  triangle  exists  is  quite 
irrelevant  to  the  mathematician. 

Similarly,  in  ethics  we  deal  only  with  abstract 
ideas.  "  When  we  speak  of  justice  or  gratitude,  we 
frame  to  ourselves  no  imagination  of  anything 
existing,  which  we  would  conceive  ;  but  our  thoughts 
terminate  in  the  abstract  ideas  of  those  virtues."  2 
Ethics  is  thus  a  purely  abstract  science.  To  the 
moral  philosopher  it  is  of  no  moment  whether  a 
concrete  just  act  anywhere  exists.  "  The  truth  and 
certainty  of  moral  discourses  abstracts  from  the  lives 
of  men,  and  the  existence  of  those  virtues  in  the 
world  of  which  they  treat."  3 

Mathematics  and  ethics  are  both  demonstrated  on 
the  basis  of  certain  axioms  and  definitions.  Between 
moral  ideas  there  are  the  same  necessary  relations 

1  ii.  xxx.  4.     2  in.  v.  12.     3  iv.  iv.  8  ;  cf.  in.  v.  12  and  iv.  iv.  8. 


ETHICS  287 

as  hold  between  mathematical  ideas.  Locke  admits 
that  ethics  is  not  popularly  placed  on  the  same  level 
of  demonstrative  certainty  as  mathematics,  but  that 
is  because  it  is  more  difficult  in  ethics  than  in  mathe 
matics  to  reach  agreement  with  regard  to  the  names 
to  be  applied  to  ideas.  In  mathematics  there  is 
universal  agreement  with  regard  to  the  idea  signified 
by  the  word  triangle.  But  in  morals  there  is  no  such 
agreement.1  The  prevalence  of  misnaming,  though 
it  detracts  from  the  obviousness  of  the  certainty  of 
our  knowledge  in  ethics,  does  not  affect  the  certainty 
itself.  If  men  could  reach  agreement  in  their 
definitions  of  moral  ideas,  then  the  whole  science  of 
ethics  would  be  seen  to  follow  analytically  from 
these  definitions.  "  I  doubt  not  but  from  self- 
evident  propositions,  by  necessary  consequences,  as 
incontestable  as  those  in  mathematics,  the  measures 
of  right  and  wrong  might  be  made  out."  2 

Mathematics  and  ethics  alike  are  pure  a  priori 
sciences,  independent  of  the  matter-of-fact  of 
experience.  If  they  had  to  do  with  concrete  experi 
ence,  they  would  consist  of  (a)  simple  ideas,  or 
(6)  complex  ideas  of  substance.  In  neither  case 
would  the  science  be  demonstrative,  or  consist  of 
universal  propositions.  For,  (a)  simple  ideas  give 
us  knowledge  that  is  "  barely  particular,"  from  which 
no  universal  propositions  can  be  inferred ;  and 

1  Locke  mentions  two  other  reasons  why  ethics  is  more  difficult 
to  demonstrate  than  mathematics.  (1)  Mathematical  ideas  are 
capable  of  sensible  representation,  e.g.  in  diagrams,  but  not  so 
moral.  (2)  Moral  ideas  are  generally  more  complex  than  mathe 
matical  (Essay,  iv.  iii.  18). 

ziv.  iii.  18  ;  cf.  m.  xi.  16. 


288  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

(6)  the  general  knowledge  we  gain  from  complex 
ideas  of  substance  is  "  merely  probable." 

Locke  never  abandoned  his  belief  in  a  mathemati 
cally  demonstrated  science  of  ethics,  though  he  came 
to  feel  less  and  less  able  to  demonstrate  it  himself.1 
This  is  clear  both  from  the  changes  which  he  intro 
duced  in  the  fourth  edition  of  the  Essay?  and  from 
his  letters  to  Molyneux.  Molyneux  repeatedly 
requested  him  "  to  oblige  the  world  with  a  treatise  of 
morals  .  .  .  according  to  the  mathematical  method." 
Locke  replied  (September  20,  1692),  expressing  dis 
trust  of  his  ability  to  undertake  the  task  ;  but 
promising  to  consider  it.  Nearly  four  years  later 
he  finally  declined  to  undertake  it. 

It  is  thus  not  strange  that  Berkeley,  already  keenly 
interested  in  mathematics,  should  have  felt  that  the 
mathematical  demonstration  of  ethics  was  a  task 
ready-laid  to  his  hand.  Locke  had  given  one  hint 
of  the  precise  way  in  which  the  mathematical  method 
might  be  followed  in  a  demonstrative  moral  science. 
Locke  held  that  certainty  means  simply  the  agree 
ment  or  disagreement  of  our  ideas,  and  that  demon 
stration  consists  in  making  clear  that  agreement  by 
employing  intermediate  ideas  or  media.  Now  in 
mathematics  algebra  had  been  of  use  in  supplying 
these  intermediate  ideas,  and  Locke  is  inclined  to 
think  that  by  applying  algebra  in  ethics  a  demon- 
strably  certain  system  will  be  produced.3 

1  The  examples  which  Locke  gives  (iv.  iii.  18)  are  justly  said 
by  Berkeley  to  be  "  trifling  propositions  "  (Commonplace  Book, 
i.  39). 

2  Compare  the  fourth  edition  with  the  first  at  iv.  ii.  9. 

3  Cf.  iv.  iii.  20  ;  and  IV.  xii.  14. 


ETHICS  289 

Berkeley  was  not  slow  to  fasten  on  this  hint. 
"  N.B.,"  he  says  in  the  Commonplace  Book,  "  To 
consider  well  what  is  meant  by  that  which  Locke 
saith  concerning  algebra — that  it  supplies  inter 
mediate  ideas.  Also  to  think  of  a  method  affording 
the  same  use  in  morals  &c.  that  this  doth  in  mathe 
matics."  1  At  this  time  Berkeley  was  much  inter 
ested  in  algebra,2  and  he  saw  that  if  algebra  were 
applied  to  morals,  the  result  could  not  be  a  pure 
mathematical  science.  Algebra  is  itself  a  branch  of 
pure  mathematics,  for  it  deals  with  signs  in  abstrac 
tion  from  the  things  they  signify.3  But  the  algebra  of 
ethics  would  be  a  department  of  applied  mathematics.4 

1  i.  40. 

2  Cf.  the  many  references  in  the  Commonplace  Book,  and  the 
article  "  De  Ludo  Algebraico  "  in  Miscellanea  Mathematica,  1707. 

3  i.  47  ;  cf.  supra,  209  ff. 

4  It  is  a  noteworthy  fact  that  nearly  every  philosopher  of  the 
seventeenth  century  believed  in  the  possibility  of  a  mathematical 
treatment  of  ethics.     The  instance  that  leaps  to  the  mind  is,  of 
course,  Spinoza's  Ethica  Ordine  Geometrico  Demonstrata.     In  the 
Ethica  of  Geulincx  there  are  suggestions  towards  a  mathematical 
system  of  ethics.     Leibniz  also  holds  that  it  may  be  convenient 
to  treat  ethics  on  the  geometrical  method   (Nouveaux  Essais, 
in.  xi.   17  and  iv.  xii.   8).     In  England  both  Cumberland  and 
Locke  held  the  view.     Suggestions  towards  it  are  also  to  be  found 
in  Hobbes. 

There  are  probably  two  main  reasons  for  these  persistent 
attempts  to  apply  mathematical  reasoning  to  ethics. 

(1)  So  long  as  Scholasticism  held  the  field,  the  validity  of 
ethical  criteria  rested  on  the  authority  of  the  Church.  Moral 
judgments  on  which  the  Church  set  its  seal  could  never  be  called 
conventional  or  contingent.  The  Church  drew  a  line  between 
what  was  right  and  what  was  wrong.  The  line  might  be  exceed 
ingly  sinuous  and  tortuous,  but  the  authority  that  drew  it  was 
unquestioned.  But  with  the  coming  of  the  Renaissance  and  the 
Reformation  all  this  was  changed.  The  question  of  the  authority 
of  the  moral  standard  became  a  very  real  one.  If  the  sxipreme 
moral  authority  of  the  Church  was  denied,  how  was  moral 
heterodoxy  to  be  met  ?  To  this  question  only  two  answers  could 


290  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Thus,  "  morality  may  be  demonstrated  as  mixt 
Mathematics."  l 

Morality,  then,  for  Berkeley,  may  be  demon 
strated  as  "  mixt  "  or  applied  mathematics.  It  was 
fresh  in  his  mind  that  Newton  had  applied  mathe 
matics,  with  wonderful  success,  to  the  solar  system  ; 
and  it  required  no  great  stretch  of  imagination  to 
hope  for  significant  results  from  the  application  of 
mathematical  methods  to  the  study  of  human 
conduct.  What  Berkeley  understood  by  the  appli 
cation  of  mathematics  to  a  certain  subject-matter 

be  given.  Either  ethics  must  become  theological  again,  or  it 
must  become  mathematical.  These  were  the  alternatives. 
Therefore  those  who  for  any  reason  disliked  the  idea  of  a  theo 
logical  ethics  or  thought  it  philosophically  inadequate,  were 
driven  to  attempt  to  demonstrate  ethics  mathematically.  For 
Descartes,  for  Spinoza,  for  Locke,  and  for  the  philosophers  of 
the  seventeenth  century  as  a  whole,  science  means,  in  the  main, 
mathematics  and  mathematical  physics.  Thus  when  the  seven 
teenth  century  philosopher  attempts  to  treat  ethics  on  the  mathe 
matical  method,  he  is  simply  feeling  after  a  truly  scientific  system 
of  ethics.  Cf.  Glanvill's  Scepsis  Scientifica,  p.  179,  and  John 
Sergeant's  Method  to  Science,  1696,  Pref.  p.  6  ff . 

(2)  It  was  largely  owing  to  Descartes  that  mathematics  came 
to  be  the  only  science  of  the  day,  and  the  influence  of  Descartes 
was  mainly  responsible  for  the  unanimity  with  which  the  seven 
teenth  century  sought  to  attain  a  mathematical  science  of  ethics. 
Descartes  himself  produced  an  example  of  a  philosophical  argu 
ment  treated  mathematically.  An  objector  remarks,  in  the 
second  set  of  Objections,  "  It  would  be  well  worth  the  doing  if 
you  advanced  as  premises  certain  definitions,  postulates,  and 
axioms,  and  thence  drew  conclusions,  conducting  the  whole  proof 
by  the  geometrical  method."  In  his  reply  Descartes  elaborately 
distinguishes  geometrical  method  from  geometrical  order,  and 
then  gives  a  sample  treatment  of  metaphysics  more  geometrico. 
This  undoubtedly  had  a  direct  influence  on  both  Geulincx  and 
Spinoza.  The  latter  threw  his  version  of  Descartes'  philosophy 
(Principia  Philosophiae  Cartesianae)  into  geometrical  form. 
Whether  in  this  matter  Descartes  exercised  any  direct  influence 
on  Hobbes  and  Locke  is  more  open  to  doubt. 


ETHICS  291 

has  already  been  explained  ;  x  and  we  have  discussed 
his  attempts  to  construct  a  theory  of  nature  on 
algebraic  lines.2  Though  he  hoped  for  equal  success 
in  the  application  of  algebra  to  human  conduct,  he 
never  worked  out  his  Algebra  of  Ethics. 

Yet  he  said  enough  to  show  that  his  system 
would  have  diverged  widely  from  Locke's.  The 
difference  between  their  theories  of  ethics  would 
have  been  exactly  parallel  to  that  between 
their  conceptions  of  mathematics.  For  Locke 
mathematics  is  a  pure  science,  dealing  with  re 
lations  of  universal  ideas,  abstracted  from  all 
concrete  existence.  On  the  other  hand,  as  we  have 
already  seen,  Berkeley  holds  that  mathematics  is 
essentially  practical.  The  speculative  parts  of  mathe 
matics,  which  are  concerned  with  difficiles  nugae.  are 
cut  away  by  the  New  Principle  ;  and  only  those 
portions  of  arithmetic  and  geometry  that  are 
"  useful  "  and  "  practical  "  will  remain.3 

In  precisely  the  same  way  Berkeley's  theory  of 
ethics  differs  from  Locke's.  Ethics  is  for  Locke  a 
pure  science,  having  as  its  subject-matter  relations 
of  ideas,  and  omitting  all  question  of  the  realisation 
of  these  ideas  in  the  concrete  matter-of-fact  of  moral 
experience.  But  Berkeley's  view  is  very  different.  < 
Ethics  is  an  applied  or  practical  science.  It  is 
concerned  throughout  with  actual  conduct  :  its 
subject-matter  is  moral  experience,  not  theories 
about  moral  experience.  And  its  great  aim  is  the 
improvement  of  conduct,  and  the  advancement  of 
"  the  good  cause  of  the  world." 

1  Vide  supra,  p.  214.  2  Vide  supra,  p.  219. 

3  Gf.  Principles,  §  121  and  §  131. 


292  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Ethics,  again,  is  for  Berkeley  a  demonstrative 
science.  But  by  that  he  does  not  mean,  as  Locke 
would  have  said,  that  its  demonstrability  consists 
in  proving  relations  of  ideas  by  means  of  intervening 
ideas.1  In  Berkeley's  view,  ethics  is  not  concerned 
with  ideas  at  all,  but  with  words  or  signs  ;  and  it  is 
by  means  of  these  words  or  signs  that  it  must  be 
demonstrated.  "  We  have  no  ideas,"  Berkeley 
asserts,  "  of  virtues  and  vices,  no  ideas  of  moral 
actions."  2  In  other  words,  we  can  neither  perceive 
nor  imagine  virtue  or  vice  in  abstraction  from 
concrete  particular  virtuous  or  vicious  actions.  Thus 
if  the  demonstrability  of  ethics  depends  on  the 
consideration  of  relations  between  ideas,  as  Locke 
maintained,  Berkeley  fears  that  it  will  be  impossible 
to  arrive  at  demonstrative  truth  in  ethics  ;  and  he 
insists  that  those  who  agree  with  Locke  that  we  may 
have  ideas  of  morals  have  given  themselves,  in  the 
demonstration  of  ethics,  an  impossibly  difficult  task.3 
It  is  impossibly  difficult,  because  we  can  have  no 
certainty  about  ideas,  as  Locke  supposed,  but  only 
about  words.4  We  may,  indeed,  reason  about  ideas  ; 
but  by  doing  so  we  shall  never  attain  demonstrative 
certainty  :  "  demonstration  can  be  only  verbal."  5 
Perfect  demonstration,  that  is,  is  possible  only  when 
we  are  dealing  with  words  or  signs.  And  Berkeley 
states  as  his  conviction  that  "  to  demonstrate 
morality  it  seems  one  need  only  make  a  dictionary 
of  words,  and  see  which  included  which."  6 

1  Cf.  Commonplace  Book,  i.  40  and  i.  43.         2  Ibid.  i.  36. 

3  Commonplace  Book,  i.  38.  4  Ibid.  i.  43.  5  Ibid.  i.  50. 

6  Ibid.  i.  39.     Cf.  John  Sergeant's  view,  infra,  p.  390. 


ETHICS  293 

This  utterance  in  itself  is  perhaps  rather  cryptic, 
but,  if  we  bear  in  mind  Berkeley's  general  view  of  the 
applicability  of  algebra  in  the  various  departments 
of  knowledge,  its  meaning  becomes  plain.  In  his 
view,  algebra  is  "  purely  verbal  "  and  "  entirely 
nominal  "  ;  1  it  deals  with  relations  of  arbitrary 
signs,  and  demonstration  is  possible,  when  they  are 
employed,  because  there  is  uniformity  in  their  use. 
Though  they  are  arbitrary,  their  meaning  is  uni 
versally  agreed  upon  ;  and  therefore  demonstration 
by  their  means  is  of  absolute  cogency.  Now,  words 
are  not  so  suited  for  demonstration  as  signs,  because 
there  is  not  universal  agreement  as  to  the  meaning 
of  words.  Mathematicians  are  absolutely  agreed  on 
the  meaning  of  such  signs  as  +  or  -  or  J  ;  but 
the  meaning  of  the  word  "  truth  "  or  "  good  "  is 
not  a  matter  of  universal  agreement.2  But  Berkeley 
believed  that  this  was  not  a  fatal  or  ultimate  defect 
in  words.  It  was  only  in  the  last  half  -century  before 
he  wrote  that  mathematicians  had  attained  uni 
formity  in  the  use  of  signs,  and  he  hoped  that  it 
would  soon  be  possible  to  reach  similar  agreement 
as  to  the  meaning  of  words.  To  this  end  it  would  be 
necessary  to  make  a  universal  dictionary,  whose 
definitions  would  be  sufficiently  authoritative  to 
command  universal  assent.  If,  then,  the  meaning 
of  words  were  settled,  propositions  in  ethics  could  be 
demonstrated  as  readily  as  propositions  in  mathe 
matics.  It  is  universally  agreed  among  mathema- 

*/          o  o 

ticians  that  such  propositions  as 
2  +2  =4  or  log(l 


Commonplace  Book,  i.  47.  2  Ibid.  i.  69. 


294  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

are  true.1  In  these  cases  the  meaning  of  all  the  terms 
used  is  a  matter  of  universal  agreement.  And  if 
there  were  similar  agreement  with  regard  to  the 
meaning  of  words,  then  such  ethical  propositions  as 
"  Man  is  free  "  or  "  God  ought  to  be  worshipped  " 
would  be  universally  admitted  to  be  true,  for  they 
would  be  absolutely  demonstrable.  The  latter  pro 
position,  for  instance,  would  be  readily  demonstrated, 
as  Berkeley  says,  "  when  once  we  ascertain  the 
signification  of  the  words  God,  worship,  ought."  2 

Berkeley's  former  example  of  a  demonstrable 
proposition  in  ethics  gives  a  good  illustration  of  what 
he  means  by  saying,  as  he  frequently  does,  that  ethics 
deals  with  the  relation  of  inclusion.  He  mentions, 
as  we  have  seen,  that  it  is  part  of  the  task  of  demon 
stration  in  ethics,  after  we  have  constructed  our 
universal  dictionary,  to  see  which  words  include 
which.  And  elsewhere  in  the  Commonplace  Book  he 
points  out  that  ethics  is  concerned  with  "  Definition, 
or  inclusion,  or  words  "  ;  3  and  that  it  deals  with 
"  signification,  by  including."  4  What  he  means  by 
this  is  that  if  we  take  such  a  proposition  as  "  Man 
is  free,"  it  is  possible  to  demonstrate  it  when  we 
know  that  "  free  "  is  included  in  "  man."  Given 
definitions  in  our  universal  dictionary  such  that  the 
definition  of  "  free  "  is  comprehended  within  the 
definition  of  "  man,"  and  the  proposition  "  Man  is 
free  "  is  universally  demonstrable. 5 

1  This  series  was  discovered  independently  by  Mercator  and 
Saint -Vincent  in  the  seventeenth  century.     It  was  not  used  by 
Berkeley,  but  it  serves  well  to  illustrate  his  meaning. 

2  Commonplace  Book,  i.  41.     Cf.  i.  32.     3  Ibid.  i.  55.      *  Ibid.  i.  37. 
5  The  conception  of  such  an  analytic  or  deductive  philosophy 

was  finally  destroyed  by  the  criticism  of  Kant. 


ETHICS  295 

In  this  theory  of  the  nature  of  "  inclusion," 
Berkeley  has  been  influenced  by  mathematical 
analogies.  The  expression  log(l  +x)  includes  the 
series  x  -  ^xz  +  J#3  -  |#4  +...  .  The  series  is  analysed 
out  of  it.  So,  Berkeley  believes,  by  an  application, 
of  analytical  methods  in  ethics  we  shall  be  able  to 
demonstrate  relations  of  inclusion  and  exclusion 
between  words  ;  and  all  propositions  in  ethics  will 
thus  be  analytical. 

Berkeley's  mathematical  Ttheory  of  ethics  is 
entirely  in  harmony  with  his  general  philosophical 
position.  According  to  his  theory  of  knowledge,  we 
reason  on  a  particular,  which  stands  for  all  other 
particulars  of  the  same  kind.  As  representing  other 
particulars  it  becomes  a  sign  and  performs  the 
functions  of  universality.  But  Berkeley  insists  that 
this  particular  is  not  an  idea,  and  he  objects  to  Locke's 
theory  of  ethics  on  the  ground  that  the  abstract 
ideas  which  he  had  posited  do  not  exist  either  in 
mathematics  or  in  ethics.  It  is  impossible,  Berkeley 
has  shown,  to  frame  an  abstract  idea  of  triangle. 
Equally  impossible  is  an  abstract  idea  of  justice. 
In  ethics  we  are  never  concerned  with  the  abstract, 
but  always  with  particular  instances  of  just  or  unjust 
actions.  What  we  do  is  to  take  this  or  that  just  act, 
ignore  all  irrelevant  features,  and  make  it  stand  for 
all  other  just  acts.  On  these  particular  cases  we 
may  reason  in  precisely  the  same  way  as  we  do  in 
mathematics.  In  mathematics  we  give  names  to 
these  particulars,  and  these  names  or  signs  are 
universal.  Similarly  in  ethics  signs  are  used,  these 
signs  being  words  and  not  ideas. 

The  only  obstacle  which  Berkeley  mentions  in  the 


296  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

way  of  such  a  system  of  ethics  is  the  very  great  diffi 
culty  of  reaching  agreement  in  its  definitions.  The 
definitions  which  mathematics  employs  are  not 
questioned,  because  the  learner  comes  to  them  with 
no  preconceived  ideas  or  prejudices.  He  is  willing 
to  take  them  on  trust.  But  in  ethics  it  is  otherwise. 
Men  approach  the  subject  with  presuppositions  of 
their  own.  They  cling  to  these  primitive  convictions, 
and  refuse  to  come  to  any  agreement  in  the  definition 
of  terms. 

One  very  real  difficulty  which  Locke  had  raised  is 
denied  by  Berkeley.  Locke  had  pointed  out  that 
the  complexity  of  moral  ideas  increases  the  difficulty 
of  dealing  with  them  on  the  mathematical  method. 
But  Berkeley  sees  nothing  in  this  difficulty.1  Yet  if 
we  extend  the  term  "  complexity  "  to  include  the 
relations  and  context  of  moral  experience,2  the 
difficulty  becomes  a  very  pertinent  one.  On 
Berkeley's  theory  if  we  take  a  particular  triangle,  it 
is  possible  to  abstract  what  is  irrelevant  to  its 
triangularity,  and  the  particular  may  be  taken  to 
stand  for  or  signify  all  other  particulars  of  the  same 
kind.  And,  as  we  have  seen,  Berkeley  thinks  the 
same  thing  may  be  done  in  ethics.  But  it  is  not 
thus  possible  to  isolate  a  particular  just  act.  If  it 
be  cut  loose  from  its  context,  it  may  no  longer  be  a 
just  act.  Its  justice  may  consist  precisely  in  the 
complex  relations  in  which  it  stands  to  its  environ 
ment.  What  in  one  context  might  be  irrelevant 
to  its  justice  in  another  might  be  that  in  which  its 
justice  consisted.  But  though  Berkeley  was  not 

1  Commonplace  Book,  i.  51. 

2  This  involves  a  departure  from  Locke's  meaning  of  the  term. 


ETHICS  297 

aware  of  this  difficulty  in  the  days  of  the  Common 
place,  Book,  it  is  clear  from  Alciphron  that  he  came 
to  appreciate  it  later.  This  may  well  have  been  one 
of  the  reasons  why  he  seems  to  have  abandoned  the 
project  of  writing  a  mathematical  treatise  on  ethics. 

And  it  may  be  suggested  that  another  reason 
weighed  with  Berkeley.  If  ethics  is  a  science  demon 
strable  in  the  same  way  as  mathematics,  why  has 
God  allowed  so  much  diversity  of  opinion  with  regard 
to  its  definitions  and  propositions  ?  There  is  uni 
versal  agreement  that  2+2  =  4,  and  that  the  sum  of 
the  angles  of  a  triangle  equals  two  right  angles.  This 
agreement  Berkeley  attributes  to  God.  God  brings 
it  about,  arbitrarily  but  not  capriciously,  that  all 
men  should  agree  that  2+2  =  4.  But  there  is  no 
similar  universal  agreement  that  polygamy  is  wrong. 
Now  why  did  not  God  secure  that  all  men  should 
agree  on  moral  matters  ?  Locke,  indeed,  had 
suggested  that  God  has  laid  down  in  the  Gospels 
"  So  perfect  a  body  of  ethics  that  Reason  may  be 
excused  from  the  enquiry."  l  But  Berkeley  saw 
that  the  ethical  ideas  of  the  Gospels  were  accepted 
by  only  a  portion,  and  as  he  seems  to  have  feared, 
by  a  diminishing  portion,  of  mankind.  If  God  had 
intended  ethics  to  be  as  demonstrable  a  science  as 
mathematics,  he  would  have  arranged  that  the 
definitions  and  axioms  of  ethics  should  be  recognised 
by  all  men  to  be  eternal  and  immutable.  But  as  God 
has  not  done  this,  it  cannot  be  his  will  that  there 
should  be  a  demonstrable  science  of  ethics. 

In  Berkeley's  works  subsequent  to  the  Principles 
no   mention   is   made   of   a   possible   mathematical 

1  Letter  to  Molyneux,  March  30,  1696. 


298  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

science  of  ethics.  In  itself  this  does  not  prove  that 
he  had  entirely  abandoned  all  hope  of  developing  the 
theory.  No  argument  is  weaker  or  more  rash  than 
the  argumentum  a  silentio.  In  this  particular  case, 
there  is  some  probability  that  Berkeley  kept  a  place 
in  his  mind  for  an  Algebra  of  Conduct  until  he  finally 
decided  not  to  attempt  to  re- write  Part  II.  of  the 
Principles,  in  which,  as  we  have  seen,  his  ethical 
theory  was  to  have  been  expounded. 

It  may,  indeed,  seem  strange  that,  even  in  the 
Discourse  on  Passive  Obedience,  which  was  published 
in  1712,  when  he  certainly  still  cherished  the  project 
of  founding  a  mathematical  system  of  ethics,  not  a 
word  is  said  to  show  that  he  had  ever  conceived  such 
a  possibility.1  But  when  the  circumstances  in  which 
Passive  Obedience  was  written  and  re-written  are 
taken  into  account,  the  omission  does  not  seem  so 
remarkable.  It  was  composed  first  in  the  form  of 
three  sermons  which  he  delivered  in  the  chapel  of 
Trinity  College.  False  reports  of  these  sermons, 
Berkeley  tells  us,  were  scattered  broadcast,  with  the 
result  that  his  loyalty  to  the  House  of  Hanover  came 
under  suspicion.  At  that  time  "  Passive  Obedience  " 
was  a  dangerous  topic  :  only  two  years  before, 
Sacheverell's  sermons  on  Non-resistance  at  St. 
Paul's  had  given  rise  to  an  important  trial  and 
occasioned  a  violent  controversy.  Berkeley  thought 
it  wise,  with  a  view  to  dispelling  these  suspicions 
about  his  loyalty,  to  publish  the  sermons  "  under 
the  form  of  one  entire  discourse."  The  volume  had 
a  large  circulation,  but  it  did  not  succeed  in  removing 
the  cloud  under  which  its  author  rested  ;  and  for 
1  But  cf.  §  53. 


ETHICS  299 

several  years  the  suspicion  of  disaffection  stood  in 
the  way  of  his  advancement  in  the  Church. 

Under  these  circumstances,  the  last  thing  we 
should  expect  to  find  in  Passive  Obedience  is  such 
novel,  technical  and  controversial  matter  as  an 
Algebra  of  Conduct.  Even  if  Berkeley  were  con 
vinced  at  the  time  that  a  scientific  system  of  ethics 
must  be  mathematical,  he  had  enough  sense  of  the 
fitness  of  things  not  to  obtrude  it  in  a  sermon. 
Further,  on  re-writing  the  sermons  for  publication, 
he  would  be  little  likely  to  wish  to  introduce  it. 
Passive  Obedience,  as  published,  was  intended  to  be 
in  part  an  apologetic,  and,  above  all,  to  be  readily 
intelligible  and  entirely  free  from  ambiguity.  And 
he  definitely  tells  us,  in  the  Commonplace  Book,  that 
in  order  that  an  ethical  demonstration  "  may  go 
down  with  "  people,  it  must  avoid  the  "  dry,  strigose, 
rigid  way  "  of  mathematics.1  Now,  he  certainly 
intended  the  Discourse  to  "go  down  with  "  people. 
And,  in  his  view,  that  was  a  perfectly  adequate 
reason  for  keeping  clear  of  mathematical  discussion 
in  it. 

There  is  also  some  reason  why  suggestions  towards 
a  mathematical  system  of  ethics,  even  though 
Berkeley  still  believed  in  it,  should  not  appear  in 
his  later  works.  For  these  works,  and  especially 
Alciphron,  in  which  his  more  mature  ethical  views 
are  most  completely  stated,  are  almost  wholly  con 
troversial.  It  is,  indeed,  characteristic  of  Berkeley 
always  to  have  opponents  in  view  ;  and  if  he  is  not 
criticising  somebody,  he  is  thinking  of  the  criticisms 
that  others  will  bring  against  him.  He  never  writes 
1  i.  69. 


300  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

as  if  a  demon  is  sitting  on  his  pen,  for  he  is  always 
preoccupied  with  what  people  will  think  of  his  work. 
When  his  early  writings  appeared,  he  was  at  almost 
ridiculous  pains  to  discover  what  judgments  were 
passed  on  them  by  the  scholars  and  wits  of  the  day. 
And  in  general  he  takes  every  care  in  his  books  to 
put  himself  at  the  point  of  view  of  possible  objectors, 
and  to  state  and  answer  their  possible  criticisms.  In 
Alciphron,  however,  he  is  not  primarily  developing 
a  theory  of  his  own  ;  he  is  himself  playing  the  part 
of  the  critic,  and  to  have  said  anything  there  about 
a  mathematical  theory  of  ethics  might  have  seemed 
irrelevant.  He  was  criticising  other  people's  ethical 
views,  not  developing  one  of  his  own. 

From  the  absence  of  reference,  in  his  middle  and 
later  works,  to  a  possible  mathematical  system  of 
ethics,  it  would  thus  be  rash  to  infer  that  he  had 
altogether  abandoned  that  theory.  But  we  have  no 
means  of  knowing  in  detail  how  the  theory  would 
have  been  developed  ;  and  it  would  be  futile  to 
speculate.  The  views  which  he  does  state  in  Passive 
Obedience  and  Alciphron  take  us  into  an  entirely 
different  field  of  ethical  interest. 

In  the  former  work,  to  which  we  now  turn  our 
attention,  Berkeley  is  concerned,  in  the  first  place, 
with  the  problem  of  moral  obligation.  There  he 
makes  "  some  enquiry  into  the  nature,  origin,  and 
obligation  of  moral  duties  in  general,  and  the 
criterions  whereby  they  are  to  be  known."  l 

The  possibility  of  morality,  Berkeley  believes, 
depends  on  the  existence  of  certain  fundamental 
moral  rules  which  are  closely  connected  with  the 

Mv.  104. 


ETHICS  301 

three  postulates  of  the  moral  life — God,  freedom,  and 
immortality.  These  three  principles  occupy  much 
the  same  place  in  Berkeley's  system  as  in  Kant's. 
But  Berkeley's  reason  for  regarding  them  as  funda 
mental  is  very  different  from  Rant's.  For  Berkeley 
they  are  ultimate  because  they  are  natural.  These 
three  great  principles  form  the  groundwork  of  all 
Berkeley's  ethical  structure.  All  the  moral  rules 
based  on  them,  Berkeley  finds,  display  three  main 
characteristics. 

(1)  Berkeley  holds  that  natural  principles  are  also 
rational.     In  saying  that  moral  rules  are  natural 
principles  or  laws  of  nature,  we  interpret  nature  in 
the  highest  sense.     Nature  in  this  sense  is  a  perfectly 
natural  rational  system.     The  best  moral  principles 
and  at  the  same  time  the  most  natural  are  not  those 
which  are  most  primitive  and  rudimentary,  but  those 
which  may  be  rationally  deduced  by  the  maturest 
thought.      These     natural-rational     principles     are 
"  agreeable  to,  and  growing  from,  the  most  excellent 
and  peculiar  part  of  human  nature."  l     They  are 
laws  of  nature,  but  they  are  also  eternal  rules  of 
reason,  because  they  naturally  and  necessarily  result 
from  the  nature  of  things,  and  may  be  demonstrated 
by  the  infallible  deductions  of  reason. 

(2)  Natural-rational  principles  of  morality  are  also 
divine.     This    follows    from    the    whole    course    of 
Berkeley's  philosophy,  and  is  also  explicitly  stated 
by   him.     For   Berkeley  nature   consists   of   divine 
symbols,  and  its  general  laws  are  simply  the  arbitrary 
but   not   capricious   volitions   of   God.     "  Nature," 
says  Berkeley,  "  is  nothing  else  but  a  series  of  free 

1  Alciphron,  ii.  61.     Cf.  Passive  Obedience,  iv.  108. 


302  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

actions,  produced  by  the  best  and  wisest  Agent."  x 
But  though  these  actions  are  free,  they  are  neither 
casual  nor  contingent.  The  laws  of  nature,  including 
moral  rules,  are  all  necessary.  God  sustains  them 
invariably  and  immutably.  God  is  the  "  Author  of 
Nature,"  and  he  does  not  permit  Nature  to  deviate 
from  the  path  which  he  has  willed.2 

(3)  It  follows  that  natural  laws  constitute  a 
system.  Berkeley  insists  strongly  on  this  charac 
teristic  of  nature.  "  The  Law  of  Nature  is  a  system 
of  such  rules  or  precepts  as  that,  if  they  be  all  of 
them,  at  all  times,  in  all  places,  and  by  all  men 
observed,  they  will  necessarily  promote  the  well- 
being  of  mankind."  3  The  systematic  and  organic 
nature  of  reality  is  everywhere  evident.  Even  at 
such  a  low  level  of  organic  life  as  vegetable  existence 
organisation  and  system  are  present.  "  The  several 
parts  of  it  are  so  connected  and  fitted  to  each  other 
as  to  protect  and  nourish  the  whole,  make  the 
individual  grow,  and  propagate  the  kind."  Take 

1  Passive  Obedience,  iv.  110. 

2  The  question  of  miracles  gave  Berkeley  some  trouble.     He 
does  not  disbelieve  the  miracles  recorded  in  Scripture,  but  holds 
that  while  these  miracles  did  involve  violation,  or  at  least  sus 
pension,  of  the  laws  of  nature,  they  were  decreed  by  God,  not  in 
a  capricious  spirit,  or  to  forward  the  interest  of  any  particular 
person,  but  solely  to  advance  God's  own  world -plan.     Berkeley 
does  not  mention,  though  he  can  hardly  have  failed  to  notice, 
that  this  explanation  involves  the  admission  that  the  laws  of 
nature  are  inadequate  to  attain  the  ends  of  their  Author.     Ber 
keley  also  attempts  to   defend  miracles  on  the  more  hopeful 
ground  that  our  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  nature  is  so  slight  that 
apparent  violations  of  them  may  really  be  quite  consistent  with 
them   sub  specie  aeternitatis.     Cf.    Passive   Obedience,   iv.    110  ; 
Principles,    §63;     Alciphron,    ii.    310-311;     Sermon   before   the 
S.P.G.,  iv.  400-402. 

3  Passive  Obedience,  iv.  111. 


ETHICS  303 

nature  anywhere  and  everywhere,  and  it  will  manifest 
the  same  organic  life.  In  animal  existence,  all  the 
parts  contribute  to  the  good  of  the  whole,  and  the 
whole  to  that  of  each  of  the  parts.  The  well-being 
of  the  whole  system  and  of  every  member  of  it  is 
advanced  by  every  part.  And  this  participation 
of  each  and  all  in  acting  for  the  benefit  of  all  and  each 
extends  even  to  "  inanimate  unorganised  elements." 

Now  moral  rules  are  natural  laws,  and  all  the 
characteristics  of  natural  laws  belong  to  moral  rules. 
Hence  the  same  order  and  regularity  which  we 
perceive  in  the  natural  world  exist  also  in  the  moral 
realm.  The  moral  and  natural  worlds  are  partly, 
though  not  entirely,  coincident.  The  moral  realm 
is  necessarily  natural,  but  the  natural  world  is  not 
necessarily  moral.  Vegetable  existence  possesses 
all  the  attributes  of  the  natural,  but  we  cannot 
predicate  morality  of  it.  On  the  other  hand,  all  the 
marks  of  the  natural  belong  to  the  facts  of  morality. 
At  all  levels,  the  moral  world,  as  we  find  it  existing 
among  self-conscious  beings,  is  a  realm  of  ends,  in 
which  man,  living  in  accordance  with  nature,  con 
siders  himself  not  as  an  isolated  and  independent 
individual,  but  "  as  a  part  of  a  whole,  to  the  common 
good  of  which  he  ought  to  conspire."  x 

Berkeley  is  convinced  that  rational  moral  rules  are 
absolutely  essential  for  morality.  He  criticises  the 
theory  according  to  which  it  is  sufficient  that  a  man 
should  on  each  particular  occasion  do  what  seems 
to  him  most  likely  under  the  circumstances  to  con 
duce  to  the  general  good.  This  view,  says  Berkeley, 
is  untenable  for  two  main  reasons,  (a)  It  is  im- 

1  Alciphron,  ii.  67. 


304  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

possible  to  compute  the  consequences  of  each 
particular  action  ;  and  even  if  it  were  possible,  it 
would  take  too  much  time  to  be  of  practical  use  in 
the  guidance  of  life.  But  it  is  possible  and  compara 
tively  easy  to  say  whether  a  given  action  contra 
venes  a  universal  law  or  not.  (6)  Further,  on  this 
view,  we  should  have  no  universal  standard,  and 
consequently  a  system  of  ethics  would  be  impossible. 
Each  man  would  act  in  accordance  with  his  own 
private  opinion  of  what  at  a  particular  juncture 
would  most  conduce  to  the  public  good  ;  and  as  no 
man  need  divulge  what  his  opinion  is,  no  man's 
action  could  be  judged  either  good  or  bad  by  other 
men.  Thus  moral  appraisement  and  moral  judgment 
— the  essence  of  ethics — would  be  impossible,  and 
all  distinction  between  good  and  evil  would  be  lost. 
On  every  count  Berkeley  concludes  that  it  is  essen 
tial  for  morality  that  there  should  be  eternal  and 
immutable  moral  rules. 

These  moral  rules  may  be  either  positive  or 
negative.  Positive  rules  are  not  so  absolute  and 
necessary  as  negative  ones.  A  negative  precept  is 
obligatory  always  and  everywhere.  It  admits  of 
no  exception.  It  has  no  respect  either  for  persons 
or  for  circumstances.  But  positive  precepts  are 
different.  It  is  impossible  always  and  everywhere 
to  observe  all  positive  precepts,  partly  because  they 
are  so  numerous,  and  partly  because  the  actions  they 
prescribe  may  be  inconsistent  with  one  another.  But 
it  is  possible  to  observe  all  negative  precepts,  even 
though  this  should  involve  total  abstinence  from 
action.1 

1  Passive  Obedience,  iv.  118,  134. 


ETHICS  305 

Berkeley  introduces  another  distinction,  which 
bears  a  closer  relation  to  his  philosophy  as  a  whole.1 
The  term  "  law  of  nature  "  may  be  understood  in 
either  of  two  senses.  In  one  sense  it  is  a  moral  law, 
in  the  other  it  is  not.  If  it  means  "  any  general  rule 
which  we  observe  to  obtain  in  the  works  of  nature, 
independent  of  the  wills  of  men,"  it  implies  no  duty 
and  is  no  moral  law.  But  it  may  also  signify  "  a 
rule  or  precept  for  the  direction  of  the  voluntary 
actions  of  reasonable  agents."  In  this  sense  duty 
is  involved,  and  the  rule  is  a  true  moral  law.  Thus 
the  distinction  between  moral  and  non-moral  natural 
laws  depends  on  whether  they  imply  human  duty 
or  not  ;  and  this  always  involves  a  reference  to  the 
will.  Natural  laws  are  moral  only  if  they  imply 
voluntary  human  actions. 

The  essential  connection  of  morality  with  the  will 
is  strongly  emphasised  in  the  Commonplace  Book. 
The  morality  of  an  action,  Berkeley  says,  depends 
chiefly  on  the  volition.  Only  those  actions  admit 
of  moral  valuation  which  are  our  own  ;  and  only 
those  actions  are  our  own  which  are  consequences 
of  our  volition.  Thus  we  ought  not  to  blame  or 
praise  a  man  for  his  congenital  abilities  or  capacities, 
for  these  are  not  due  to  his  volition.2  A  man  is 
responsible  only  for  voluntary  actions.  In  per 
forming  such  actions  man  is  free.  JBerkeley  simply 
takes  it  for  granted  that  the  will  is  free.  To  say 
that  man  wills  is  tantamount  to  saying  that  he  is 
free.  An  unfree  will  is  a  contradiction  in  terms. 

1  Ibid.  iv.  122-123. 

2  Commonplace  Book,  i.  39.     Of.  Siris,  iii.  246. 

B.P.  U 


306  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

"  Folly  to  inquire  what  determines  the  will."  l  The 
will  is  self-determining,  and  no  external  force  can 
act  upon  it  so  as  to  limit  or  determine  it.  No  idea 
can  affect  it,  because  all  ideas  are  passive  and  inert ; 
and  no  passion  can  move  it,  because  it  is  the  nature 
of  the  self  to  be  superior  to  the  passions.  The  will 
is  simply  another  name  for  the  self  in  the  conative 
side  of  its  activity. 

Berkeley  distinguishes  moral  freedom  from  natural 
freedom.  Both  the  natural  world  and  the  moral 
world  are  free.  Mechanical  necessity  is  absent  from 
both  worlds.  The  sharp  distinction  which  we  find 
in  Kant  between  the  necessity  of  the  natural  world 
and  the  freedom  of  the  moral  realm  has  no  counter 
part  in  Berkeley.  For  Berkeley  mechanical  necessity 
is  non-existent,  because  nature,  as  we  have  seen, 
consists  of  the  free  actions  of  God.  Both  the 
natural  and  the  moral  worlds  are  free.  But  because 
both  are  free,  it  does  not  follow  that  both  are  free 
in  the  same  way.  The  distinction  between  them 
depends  on  the  quarter  in  which  responsibility  rests. 
God  is  responsible  for  the  natural  world  :  for  this 
we  have  no  responsibility,  because  our  responsibility 
ends  with  those  actions  which  are  in  our  power.  On 
the  other  hand,  we  are  responsible  for  actions  in  the 
moral  world.  Finite  beings  are  accountable  for 
their  own  actions  ;  and  with  regard  to  them  God 
has  no  responsibility.  But  while  God  is  not 
responsible  for  the  actions  of  finite  selves,  these  are 
consistent  with  his  will  and  hence  truly  natural,  so 
long  as  they  are  right.  Thus  it  may  be  said  that  the 
distinction  between  right  and  wrong  actions  is  that 

1  Commonplace  Book,  i.  34. 


ETHICS  307 

what  is  right  is  both  natural  and  moral,  while  what 
is  wrong  is  not  natural,  though  it  is  moral  in  a  wide 
sense,  as  involving  the  responsibility  of  a  finite  self. 

Berkeley  holds  that  the  criterion  of  good  and  evil, 
which  can  be  comprehended  only  by  free  and  rational 
beings,  is  tendency  to  promote  or  thwart  happiness. 
It  is  a  natural  principle  that  we  consider  things  in 
the  light  of  our  happiness,  for  self-love  is  extensively 
the  most  universal,  and  intensively  the  most 
profound,  principle  in  human  nature.  Good,  then, 
is  what  augments  our  happiness,  and  evil  that  which 
impairs  it.  The  summum  bonum  consists  in  happi 
ness,  and  duty  lies  in  the  endeavour  to  attain  the 
good  and  avoid  the  evil,  with  a  view  to  happiness. 

The  content  of  happiness  is  defined  by  self-love. 
When  our  acquaintance  with  nature  is  shallow,  self- 
love,  being  in  an  embryonic  state,  regards  sensible 
pleasure  as  the  invariable  characteristic  of  good,  as 
pain  is  of  evil.  But  as  self-love  develops  and  we 
come  to  know  nature  better,  it  becomes  evident  that 
this  formulation  of  the  criterion  is  doubly  erroneous. 
In  the  first  place,  experience  teaches  that  present 
sensible  good  is  often  followed  by  greater  evil,  and 
that  present  evil  often  brings  forth  greater  good. 
Thus,  if  we  have  regard  only  to  present  sensible  good 
and  evil,  and  seek  to  avoid  the  one  and  secure  the 
other,  we  may  fail  in  the  main  aim  which  self-love 
sets  before  us — the  attainment  of  personal  happiness. 
And  even  if  happiness  consisted  simply  in  sensible 
good,  this  would  be  attained,  not  by  yielding  to  the 
solicitations  of  present  pleasure  but  by  undergoing 
present  pain.  In  the  second  place,  as  our  acquaint 
ance  with  nature  grows,  we  discover  that  there  are 


BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

^oods  than  those  that  affect  the  senses,  and 
that  these  goods  are  higher  than  sensible  goods.1 
Thus  a  developed  self-love,  while  still  regarding 
personal  happiness  as  the  summum  bonum,  requires 
a  strict  scrutiny  of  present  pleasure.  For  such 
pleasure  may  in  two  ways  actually  impair  our  own 
happiness.  It  may  be  positively  evil,  i.e.  pregnant 
with  evil  consequences.  It  may  be  negatively  evil, 
i.e.  not  so  high  a  good  as  might  have  been  attained 
under  the  circumstances. 

Our  knowledge  of  nature,  carried  a  step  further, 
shows  us  that  the  summum  bonum  cannot  be  mere 
temporal  happiness.  The  summum  bonum  cannot 
be  confined  within  the  conditions  of  time.  It  con 
sists  in  eternal  happiness.  Now  eternal  happiness 
can  be  guaranteed  only  by  God.  Hence  self-love 
lays  down  the  rule  that  we  act  always  in  accordance 
with  the  will  of  God.  The  existence  of  God  is  re 
quired  by  morality  as  it  is  by  knowledge.  Berkeley's 
general  metaphysical  position  implies  that,  apart 
from  the_£Xjstence  of  God  to  guarantee  the  regularity 
and  inva,ria,bj1ity_of_our  sense-impressions,  no  know 
ledge  woulcVbepossible.  In  ethics,  though  concrete 
moral  actions  are  not  existentially  dependent  on 
God,  the  natural-rational  principles  on  which  they 
are  judged  are  the  volitions  of  God.  But  Berkeley 
does  not,  as  Kant  does,  attempt  to  base  a  practical 
proof  of  God's  existence  on  his  indispensability  for 
morals. 

This  process  of  the  gradual  definition  of  the 
content  of  happiness  may  be  illustrated  by  the 
stages  through  which  Berkeley  himself  went  in 

1  Alciphron,  ii.  89-97. 


ETHICS  309 

developing  his  ethical  theory.  His  view  of  the 
relative  value  of  pleasures  of  sense  and  pleasures  of 
reason  underwent  a  marked  change.  In  the  Common 
place  Book  (1705-8),  he  does  not  recognise  pleasures 
of  reason  at  all.  "  Sensual  pleasure,"  he  says,  "  is 
the  summum  bonum."  l  In  the  essays  in  the 
Guardian  (1713),  pleasures  of  sense  and  pleasures  of 
reason  are  placed  on  the  same  level,  so  long  as  they 
are  natural.  But  in  Alciphron  (1732),  pleasures  of 
sense  are  degraded.  The  view  that  these  constitute 
the  summum  bonum  is  strongly  attacked.  Sense- 
pleasure  is  natural  only  to  brutes.  Reason  is  the 
highest  and  most  characteristic  element  in  human 
nature,  and  only  rational  pleasures  are  in  a  strict 
sense  natural  to  man. 

It  is  strange  that  at  this  stage  in  his  philosophical 
development  Berkeley  did  not  notice  the  incon 
sistency  of  making  reason  supreme  in  morality,  and 
sense  in  knowledge.  All  our  knowledge  is  sense- 
knowledge,  but  all  our  moral  actions  are  rational. 
But  even  when  Alciphron  was  written  Berkeley  was 
modifying  his  view  of  the  importance  of  sense- 
knowledge,  and  in  Siris  (1744),  sense-knowledge  is 
placed  far  below  rational  knowledge.  Consistently 
with  this,  the  pleasures  of  sense  are  depreciated, 
precisely  as  they  were  in  Alciphron.  "  The  objects 
of  sense  .  .  .  are  too  often  counted  the  chief  good."  2 
Both  in  knowledge  and  morality  the  same  trend  is 
evident  throughout  Berkeley's  philosophy — the  ascent 
from  sense  to  reason.  The  only  difference  between 
Berkeley's  epistemological  and  ethical  development 
is  that  his  perception  of  the  inadequacy  of  sense  took 

1  Commonplace  Book,  i.  47.  z  Siris,  iii.  282. 


310  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

place  earlier  in  the  case  of  morality  than  in  that  of 
knowledge. 

Berkeley  believes,  as  we  have  seen,  that  each  man's 
happiness  is  for  him  the  summum  bonum.  This  end 
self-love  directs  him  to  seek.  But  at  first  sight  it 
would  seem  that  a  universe,  in  which  the  only  moral 
precept  is  obedience  to  the  principle  of  self-love, 
would  certainly  not  display  the  harmony  and 
system  of  Berkeley's  organic  moral  realm.  For 
Berkeley,  as  for  all  other  British  moralists,  the 
problem  of  the  relation  of  egoism  and  altruism  arises. 
But  in  Berkeley's  ethical,  as  hi  his  metaphysical 
philosophy,  God  solves  many  puzzles.  This  problem 
like  many  others  would  remain  unresolved  apart 
from  God.  Self-love  remains  for  Berkeley  the 
supreme  principle  in  morality  ;  but  it  does  not  there 
fore  follow  that  the  altruism -egoism  problem  is 
insoluble.  It  is  only  at  a  low  stage  of  moral  develop 
ment  that  self-love  bids  a  man  seek  his  own  happiness 
alone.  Rational  self-love  endeavours  to  consider  the 
world  sub  specie  aeternitatis.  It  finds  that  true  self- 
interest  demands  that  actions  be  directed  not  to 
temporal  advantage,  but  to  eternal  welfare  ;  and 
thus  self-love  advocates  only  that  line  of  action  that 
is  conceived  to  be  in  accordance  with  the  will  of  God. 
No  purely  selfish  action  can  be  at  one  with  the  will 
of  God.  The  Hobbist  position  of  undiluted  egoism 
is  stated  by  Berkeley,  but  only  to  be  refuted  by  the 
same  arguments  as  Butler  used.  Man,  as  Aristotle 
said,  is  a  TTO\ITIKOV  "(wov  :  "  there  is  implanted  in 
mankind  a  natural  tendency  or  disposition  to  a 
social  life."  *  All  that  is  necessary  to  keep  man 

1  Passive  Obedience,  iv.  117. 


ETHICS  31 1 

right  in  this  social  life  is  careful  attention  to  the 
dictates  of  self-love.  Self-love  will  not  command 
what  is  inconsistent  with  the  truest  altruism. 

This  conception  of  self-love  supplies  the  key  to 
Berkeley's  attitude  to  pleasure.  While  he  agrees 
that  the  sum/mum  bonum  is  happiness,  and  that 
happiness  consists  largely  in  pleasure,  he  draws  a 
sharp  and  apparently  arbitrary  distinction  between 
"  natural  "  and  "  fantastical  "  pleasures.  Under  the 
head  of  natural  pleasures  he  includes  "  those  which 
are  suited  both  to  the  rational  and  to  the  sensual 
parts  of  our  nature."  Fantastical  pleasures,  on  the 
other  hand,  are  largely  illusory,  and,  as  they  are 
not  naturally  adapted  to  provide  satisfaction  for  our 
desires,  they  merely  succeed  in  perpetuating  a  crav 
ing  for  more  and  ever  more  fantastical  pleasures. 

At  this  point  Berkeley  introduces  God  to  confirm 
the  distinction.  God  has  so  arranged  the  world,  he 
believes,  that  natural  pleasures  are  both  easier  of 
attainment  and  more  certain  to  afford  satisfaction 
than  those  that  are  fantastical.  Natural  pleasures, 
again,  are  not  purely  egoistic  :  God  has  decreed  that 
these,  which  form  the  proper  object  of  desire  to  a 
rational  self-love,  should  always  contribute  to  the 
general  social  welfare.  And  while  man  is  free  to 
choose  either  natural  or  fantastical  pleasures  accord 
ing  to  his  own  volition,  it  is  the  will  of  God  that  he 
should  seek,  not  merely  the  private  enjoyment  of 
pleasure,  but  also  the  promotion  of  the  happiness  of 
mankind  as  a  whole. 

It  is  in  connection  with  the  nature  of  pleasure  in 
life  that  Berkeley's  relation  to  contemporary  writers 
on  ethical  problems  is  most  clearly  seen.  In 


312  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Alciphron  he  criticises  both  Mandeville  and  Shaftes- 
bury  with  much  asperity  and  some  acumen. 

From  Mandeville  he  differs  at  the  outset  with 
regard  to  the  conception  of  self-love.  Self-love  for 
Mandeville  is  always  egoistic  ;  it  directs  each  man  to 
seek  his  own  pleasure  only,  irrespective  of  what  its 
social  reference  may  be.  A  man's  business  is  with 
himself  alone  ;  if  he  satisfies  his  own  desires  according 
to  his  own  wishes,  he  should  not  give  a  thought  to 
the  mischief  to  other  individuals  or  the  State  as  a 
whole  which  may  result  from  his  selfish  satisfaction. 
And  the  burden  of  Berkeley's  criticism  of  Mandeville 
is  that  he  simply  repeats,  in  an  even  more  pernicious 
form,  the  undiluted  egoism  of  Hobbes. 

To  Berkeley's  criticism  Mandeville  replied  in  his 
Letter  to  Dion.1  In  that  tract,  which  is  vigorously 
written,  he  refuses  to  acknowledge  the  view  attri 
buted  to  him  by  Berkeley,  and  says  that  the  most 
charitable  construction  to  put  upon  the  travesty 
is  that  Berkeley  had  not  really  read  The  Fable  of  the 
Bees. 

Now,  it  is  quite  clear  that  Berkeley  understands 
Mandeville's  fundamental  dictum,  "  Private  Vices 
Public  Benefits  "  otherwise  than  Mandeville  himself. 
As  Hutcheson  pointed  out  in  his  Remarks  upon  the 
Fable  of  the  Bees,  Mandeville's  dictum  may  mean  any 
one  of  these  five  distinct  propositions  :  "  Private 
vices  are  themselves  public  benefits,"  "  private  vices 
naturally  tend,  as  the  direct  and  necessary  means, 
to  produce  public  happiness,"  "  private  vices,  by 
dexterous  management  of  governors,  may  be  made 

1  "  Dion  "  is  the  character  in  Alciphron  whom  Berkeley  makes 
the  exponent  of  his  own  views. 


ETHICS  313 

to  tend  to  public  happiness,"  "  private  vices  naturally 
and  necessarily  flow  from  public  happiness,"  "  private 
vices  will  probably  flow  from  public  prosperity, 
through  the  present  corruption  of  man."  The 
version  of  Mandeville  which  Berkeley  puts  into  the 
mouth  of  Lysicles  adopts  the  second  of  these 
meanings.  Lysicles'  argument  is  precisely  that 
"  private  vices  naturally  tend,  as  the  direct  and 
necessary  means,  to  produce  public  happiness."  l 
Lysicles  is  even  made  to  regard  vice  as  a  positive 
good,  "  a  fine  thing  with  an  ugly  name."  Now 
Mandeville  himself  both  in  the  Fable  of  the  Bees  and 
in  the  Letter  to  Dion  insists  that  while  private  vices 
are  inseparable  from  the  material  greatness  of  a 
society,  it  does  not  follow  that  vice  is  a  good. 
"  Vice,"  he  says,  "  is  always  bad,  whatever  benefits 
we  may  receive  from  it."  2  And  he  definitely  gives 
his  imprimatur  to  the  third  of  Hutcheson's  suggested 
meanings.  He  means  that  "  private  vices,  by  the 
dexterous  management  of  a  skilful  politician,  might 
be  turned  into  public  benefits."  3  Hence  a  good 
deal  of  Berkeley's  criticism,  directed  against  a 
different  interpretation  of  Mandeville,  is  simply  an 
ignoratio  elenchi. 

Even  less  satisfactory  is  the  criticism  of  Shaftes- 
bury  which  Berkeley  offers  in  the  third  dialogue  of 
Alciphron.  The  theory  which  the  character  Alci- 
phron  is  made  to  defend,  and  which  is  attributed  to 
Shaftesbury,  is  a  maimed  and  decrepit  version  of 
what  Shaftesbury  really  meant.  In  dealing  with 
Shaftesbury,  his  mind,  usually  so  acute  and  incisive, 
seems  to  have  lost  its  cutting  edge.  He  is  able 

1  Alciphron,  ii.  71-74.      2  Letter  to  Dion,  p.  34.      3  Ibid.  p.  36. 


314  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

neither  to  appreciate  the  value  of  Shaftesbury's 
views,  nor  to  indicate  clearly  the  grounds  of  his 
objection  to  them.  No  one,  in  fact,  who  has  written 
about  Shaftesbury  has  written  to  less  purpose  than 
Berkeley.  He  seems  to  see  that  Shaftesbury's 
analogy  between  physical  beauty  and  moral  goodness 
is  not  altogether  adequate,  but  he  does  not  seem  to 
see  why  it  is  not.  He  objects  that  the  moral  sense 
is  not  capable  of  supplying  a  satisfactory  criterion 
of  right  and  wrong,  but  he  does  not  seem  to  see  why 
it  cannot.  He  attacks  Shaftesbury's  doctrine  of  the 
disinterestedness  of  virtue  on  grounds  that  are 
entirely  unworthy  of  a  moral  philosopher.  All  in 
all,  his  attitude  to  Shaftesbury,  as  we  see  it  in 
Alciphron,  is  that  of  the  man  whose  prejudices  make 
him  incapable  of  appreciating  whatever  truth  may 
exist  in  the  opinions  of  those  with  whom  he  does  not 
see  eye  to  eye. 

Berkeley's  attitude  to  both  Mandeville  and  Shaftes 
bury  is,  as  we  have  seen,  distinctly  hostile.  With 
the  ethical  theory  of  Butler,  on  the  other  hand,  his 
own  view  is  in  close  sympathy.  But  it  is  significant 
of  Berkeley's  methods  that  the  author  of  the  doctrine 
to  which  his  own  bears  at  many  points  such  a  striking 
resemblance  is  not  once  mentioned  in  his  works. 

The  similarities  in  the  views  of  the  two  contem 
porary  philosopher-bishops,  taken  in  their  cumulative 
effect,  are  so  notable  as  to  suggest  the  possibility  that 
one  was  directly  influenced  by  the  other.  But  such 
a  suspicion  is  really  gratuitous.  It  is,  indeed,  barely 
possible,  so  far  as  the  dates  of  publication  of  their 
works  are  concerned,  that  each  was  in  some  measure 
indebted  to  the  other.  Butler's  Sermons  was  first 


ETHICS  315 

published  in  1726,  while  Berkeley's  Passive  Obedience 
appeared  in  1712,  and  Alciphron  in  1732.  But  there 
is  no  real  internal  evidence  that  Passive  Obedience 
influenced  the  Sermons  or  the  Sermons,  Alciphron. 
The  resemblance  may  be  sufficiently  accounted  for 
by  their  philosophical  environment.  They  shared 
a  common  antipathy  to  Hobbes,  and  they  adopted 
a  similar  attitude  towards  the  tendencies  of  ethical 
thought  represented  on  the  one  hand  by  the  so-called 
Cambridge  Platonists,  and  on  the  other  by  such 
"  men  of  the  world  "  as  Mandeville  and  Shaftesbury. 
To  Hobbism  they  were  both  fundamentally  opposed, 
though  both  were  perhaps  influenced  by  the  Hobbist 
doctrine  that  moral  rules  are  natural  laws.  From 
the  Cambridge  Platonists  both  learned  something — 
the  immutability  of  moral  laws  and  the  rational 
ground  of  moral  obligation.  To  Mandeville  and 
Shaftesbury  they  were  both  opposed,  though  Butler 
was  more  willing  than  Berkeley  to  admit  that  there 
was  something  in  what  Shaftesbury  had  to  say. 

The  result  of  all  this  is  that,  though  Butler's  moral 
philosophy  is  more  systematically  developed  than 
Berkeley's,  almost  every  element  which  has  contri 
buted  to  make  Butler's  work  the  greatest  product  of 
British  ethical  thought  is  present  in  Berkeley's 
scattered  remarks.  For  Berkeley,  as  for  Butler, 
reason  is  ultimately  the  basis  of  moral  obligation, 
and  happiness  constitutes  the  summum  bonum.  In 
the  view  of  both,  moral  principles  are  also  laws  of 
nature,  and  action  in  accordance  with  nature  leads 
to  the  attainment  of  the  moral  ideal,  for  nature  is  a 
divinely  organised  system  of  ends.  Both  emphasise, 
in  language  strangely  similar,  the  moral  importance 


316  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

of  the  disposition  to  social  life  existing  in  mankind  ; 
and  both  are  animated  by  the  same  principles  of 
practical  social  idealism.  Only  in  their  view  of  the 
relation  of  the  "  principles  of  human  nature  "  do  they 
diverge.  Or  it  would  be  truer  to  say  that,  while 
Butler's  chief  originality  lies  in  his  moral  psychology, 
Berkeley  has  almost  entirely  omitted  to  make  any 
psychological  analysis  of  moral  experience. 

When  we  remember  the  originality  of  Berkeley's 
metaphysics,  it  may  seem  strange  that,  when  all  is 
said,  his  writings  on  ethics  make  so  small  a  contri 
bution  to  that  branch  of  philosophy.  But  we  should 
bear  in  mind  that  we  have  only  fragments  of 
Berkeley's  thought  on  ethical  problems.  What 
should  we  think  of  his  metaphysics,  if  the  Principles 
and  the  Three  Dialogues  had  been  lost  ?  It  might 
be  argued  that  if  Berkeley's  specifically  ethical 
treatise  had  been  preserved,  it  might  have  paved  the 
way  for  as  great  an  advance  in  ethics  as  his  syste 
matic  works  do  in  metaphysics.  One  thing  at  least 
may  be  said  with  certainty.  It  is  clear  from  the 
scattered  remarks  which  we  do  have  that  Berkeley's 
work  on  ethics  would  have  shown  the  same  two 
characteristics  as  assured  his  success  in  his  meta 
physical  ventures.  As  Earl  Balfour  has  pointed  out, 
two  qualities  are  essential  to  the  philosopher  who  is 
going  to  carry  forward  his  study.  He  must  have 
philosophical  aptitude,  and  be  mentally  capable  of 
speculation  on  the  ultimate  problems  of  life  and 
knowledge.  But  in  addition  he  must  possess  the 
peculiar  gift  of  being  able  to  locate  the  exact  point 
at  which  the  next  philosophical  forward  movement 
can  best  be  made.  It  was  for  want  of  this  special 


ETHICS  317 

acumen  that  Clarke  and  Malebranche,  in  spite  of 
their  speculative  ability,  were  left  in  a  philosophical 
backwater.  But  Berkeley  had  the  faculty  of  noticing 
just  where  the  next  advance  could  best  be  made. 
Hence  his  position  in  the  main  current  of  English 
philosophy. 

It  is  evident  that  he  did  not  at  first  perceive  the 
exact  point  in  ethics  at  which  the  next  forward 
step  could  be  taken.  The  reason  for  this  is 
that  the  main  line  of  ethical  thought  did  not  pass 
through  Locke.  Berkeley's  intuition  was  not  at 
fault  in  believing  that  the  main  line  of  metaphysical 
progress  lay  through  Locke  ;  and  he  was  able  to  do 
his  own  good  work  by  putting  his  finger  unerringly 
on  the  spot  from  which  that  advance  might  best 
originate.  His  initial  mistake  in  ethics  lay  in 
thinking  that  progress  might  be  made  in  that 
department  of  philosophy  also  by  observing  and 
correcting  Locke's  suggestions  towards  a  mathe 
matical  system  of  ethics.  But  he  soon  perceived 
that  the  path  marked  out  by  Locke  led  into  a  cul-de- 
sac  ;  and  he  therefore  abandoned  the  attempt  to 
construct  a  mathematical  system  of  ethics.  In  his 
later  ethical  work,  as  we  have  seen,  he  does  make 
suggestions  which  place  him  right  in  the  centre  of 
the  line  of  ethical  advance  in  England.  That  line 
led  through  Hume  to  Utilitarianism.  Berkeley 
believes,  as  we  have  seen,  that  the  summum  bonum 
is  not  private  pleasure,  but  the  happiness  and  general 
good  of  all.  And  he  draws  a  sharp  distinction 
between  the  different  kinds  of  pleasure.  He  did 
not  appreciate  the  problems  v/hich  Utilitarianism 
has  to  face  ;  and  it  is  an  anachronism  to  style  him, 


318  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

as  Campbell  Eraser  does,  a  Theological  Utilitarian.1 
But  he  was  moving  in  that  direction,  and  if  he  had 
given  to  the  question  the  thought  necessary  to 
produce  a  systematic  work,  he  might  well  have  been 
the  first  Utilitarian. 

1  Life  and  Letters  of  Berkeley,  p.  49. 


CHAPTER  VII 

PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION 

BERKELEY  himself  did  not  recognise  the  philosophy 
of  religion  as  a  separate  branch  of  philosophy  ;  and 
it  might  therefore  seem  that  we  have  no  right  to 
devote  a  chapter  to  it.  But  it  should  be  remembered 
that,  in  the  whole  course  of  his  works,  he  makes 
practically  no  attempt  to  introduce  distinctions 
between  the  different  branches  of  philosophy,  or  to 
classify  them  in  any  way  :  he  does  not  even  dis 
tinguish  metaphysics  from  theory  of  knowledge  or 
from  psychology,  for  in  his  eyes  all  speculation  of  an 
interpretative  and  critical  kind  is  alike  philosophy, 
irrespective  of  the  particular  subject-matter  with 
which  it  happens  to  deal.  His  disinclination  to 
distinguish  the  various  branches  of  philosophy  was 
probably  due,  not  to  any  congenital  affection  for 
blurred  outlines  or  indistinct  margins  (for  his  mind 
was  naturally  clear,  sincere,  and  anti-obscurantist), 
but  partly  to  his  antipathy  to  the  artificial  and 
superfluous  distinctions  introduced  by  the  Schoolmen 
for  whom  he  had  little  love,  and  partly  to  the  fact 
that  the  New  Philosophy  had  hardly  yet  begun  to 
admit  that  our  knowledge  of  the  human  under 
standing  might  conceivably  make  greater  progress, 

319 


320  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

if  it  were  recognised  that  within  the  one  body  of 
philosophy  are  comprised  different  disciplines,  having 
each  a  characteristic  aim  and  subject-matter.  But 
for  the  purposes  of  exposition  and  criticism,  it  is 
convenient  to  deal  with  Berkeley's  views  under  such 
rubrics  as  Psychology,  Metaphysics,  and  Ethics ; 
and  if  that  is  permissible,  there  would  seem  to  be  no 
reason  why  the  chapter  in  which  we  gather  together 
what  he  has  to  say  on  the  problems  of  religion  should 
not  be  called  "  The  Philosophy  of  Religion." 

Yet  it  cannot  be  denied  that  there  is  an  argument 
against  the  use  of  the  term  Philosophy  of  Religion 
which  does  not  hold  in  the  other  cases.  Although 
Berkeley  himself  was  not  concerned  to  distinguish 
such  branches  of  philosophy  as  psychology  and 
metaphysics  from  one  another,  no  anachronism  is 
involved  in  ascribing  them  to  him,  for  they  had  been 
distinguished  before  his  time.  But  in  strictness  it  is 
an  anachronism  to  speak  of  Berkeley's  philosophy 
of  religion.  For  the  discipline  which  we  commonly 
call  by  that  name,  dealing  as  it  does  with  the  critical 
examination  and  interpretation  of  actual  religious 
experience,  differs  from  what  has  been  traditionally 
known  as  theology  ;  and  it  did  not  really  originate 
till  the  time  of  Kant.  Both  the  term  and  the 
discipline  were  suggested  by  Kant,  and  under  his 
influence  the  study  has  assumed  from  the  beginning 
the  subjective  tinge  with  which  he  coloured  all 
philosophy.  Kant  enumerated  the  problems  of 
philosophy  in  a  way  that  was  at  least  apparently 
subjective  ;  and,  regarding  religion  as  the  subject- 
matter  of  the  third  and  final  department  of  pure 
philosophy,  he  enunciated  its  problem  not  as  What 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  321 

is  God  ?  (that  may  be  the  problem  of  theology),  but 
What  may  I  hope  ?  The  questions  of  which  the 
religious  philosopher  treats  are  not  abstract  and 
independent  of  the  religious  subject  :  they  depend 
on  the  human  consciousness  with  all  its  interests  and 
needs,  all  its  hopes  and  fears,  all  its  emotions  and 
aspirations. 

While,  then,  it  is  impossible  to  deny  that,  as  the 
philosophy  of  religion  was  first  developed  by  German 
post-Kantian  Idealism,  it  is  strictly  an  anachronism 
to  attribute  the  discipline  to  Berkeley,  yet  in  his 
treatment  of  the  problems  of  religion  there  is  so 
notable  an  approximation  to  the  standpoint  and 
attitude  characteristic  of  the  philosophy  of  religion 
that  the  chronological  inaccuracy  seems  pardon 
able.  Many  of  the  features  of  the  philosophy  of 
religion  are  anticipated  by  Berkeley.  Thus  he  insists 
that  the  study  of  religion  must  not  merely  describe 
the  contents  of  sacred  writings,  and  recapitulate  the 
dogmas  of  theology,  but  should  also  exercise  its  in 
terpretative  and  critical  functions  on  the  actual  facts 
of  religious  experience  ;  and  in  the  strongest  terms 
he  emphasises  that  its  conclusions  must  be  judged 
at  the  bar  of  human  reason,  and  that  its  solutions 
must  satisfy  human  needs  and  aspirations. 

The  philosophical  attitude  which  Berkeley  adopted 
towards  the  problems  of  religion  was  determined 
very  largely  by  the  deist  controversy  that  was 
raging  when  he  was  beginning  to  think.  It  is  not 
very  easy  to  decide  whether  or  not  this  circumstance 
was  favourable  to  the  development  of  Berkeley's 
philosophy  of  religion. 

That  his  views  would  have  been  stated  very  much 


322  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

more  clearly  and  systematically  if  he  had  not  been 
involved  in  so  much  discussion  and  dispute  admits 
of  no  question  whatever.  His  earlier  works,  e.g.  the 
Principles  and  Three  Dialogues,  in  which  there  is 
hardly  any  controversy  except  with  imaginary 
disputants,  are  clearer  and  more  systematic  than 
Alciphron,  in  which  his  views  on  religion  are  chiefly 
contained.  But  while  it  is  universally  admitted  that 
for  style  and  literary  craftsmanship  Alciphron  is  the 
finest  thing  he  ever  wrote,  it  is  rarely  read  to-day, 
partly  because  the  controversy  to  which  it  is  a 
contribution  now  excites  hardly  any  interest,  and 
partly  because  it  is  rather  difficult  to  sift  his  views 
from  those  which  he  criticises,  and  so  to  obtain  from 
the  book,  in  spite  of  its  elegance  and  clarity  of 
diction,  any  clear-cut  conception  of  what,  in  the  last 
resort,  Berkeley's  own  theory  of  religion  really  is. 
The  possible  extent  of  Berkeley's  achievements  may 
be  gauged  by  what  Butler,  a  man  of  less  philosophical 
acumen  and  literary  skill,  succeeded  in  accom 
plishing.  Butler,  writing  at  the  same  time  as 
Berkeley,  avoided  entering  into  details  in  connection 
with  the  controversy,  and  produced,  in  the  Analogy 
of  Religion,  a  work  of  permanent  value.  Almost 
certainly,  if  Berkeley  had  been  able  to  keep  his  hands 
free  of  the  deist  controversy,  he  would  have  produced 
more  ultimately  valuable  work  in  the  theory  of  re 
ligion  than  he  did. 

For  Berkeley,  like  Butler,  possessed  in  a  marked 
degree  the  qualities  essential  to  the  writer  on  the 
philosophy  of  religion. 

(i)  In  the  first  place,  they  are  both  convinced  of 
the  fundamental  importance  of  religion.  Very 


PHILOSOPHY  OP  RELIGION  323 

different  views  are  possible  as  to  the  meaning  and 
value  of  religious  experience.  But  Berkeley  believes 
that  there  can  be  no  diversity  of  opinion  on  the 
question  of  the  importance  of  the  part  played  by 
religion  in  human  history.  All  may  admit  that 
religion  has  in  the  past  filled  a  notable  role  in  human 
experience.  But  it  may  be  held  that  the  day  of 
religion  is  past,  and  that  if  religion  were  now  utterly 
to  disappear  no  real  value-for-life  would  be  lost  to 
the  world.  As  against  any  such  supposition  as  this, 
it  was  the  intense  conviction  of  Berkeley  that  the 
extinction  of  religion  is  either  an  unthinkable  im 
possibility,  or,  if  it  were  possible,  it  would  be  a 
universal  disaster  from  which  humanity  would  never 
recover. 

(ii)  But  the  mere  appreciation  of  the  importance 
of  the  role  which  religion  has  played  in  human 
history  is  not  enough  to  constitute  the  philosopher 
of  religion.  He  must  also  himself  enjoy  and  value 
religious  experience.  This  is  clearly  a  different 
matter.  A  man  may  be  impressed  with  the  import 
ance  of  religious  experience,  and  yet  be  incapable  of 
it  himself,  just  as  he  may  agree  that  aesthetic 
experience  is  of  great  value,  though  he  himself  is 
incapable  of  appreciating  it.  It  is  essential  that  the 
philosopher  of  religion  should  not  only  be  convinced 
of  the  general  importance  of  religion,  but  should  also 
himself  know  by  immediate  and  personal  experience 
what  religion  is.  Now  the  whole  career  of  Berkeley, 
especially  after  his  twenty-fifth  year,  shows  that  more 
perhaps  than  any  of  his  contemporaries  he  was  a 
man  in  whose  life  religion  exerted  a  commanding 
influence.  Renan's  well-known  remark  that  the  best 


324  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

historian  of  religion  is  the  man  who  has  once  believed 
in  it,  but  no  longer  does  so,  has  little  application  to 
the  philosophy  of  religion. 

(iii)  But,  even  for  the  philosopher  of  religion,  there 
is  a  grain  of  truth  in  Kenan's  saying.  For  the 
philosopher  of  religion  must  constantly  be  on  his 
guard  against  parti  pris.  He  must,  indeed,  be 
impressed  with  the  general  importance  of  religion, 
and  must  know  by  personal  experience  what  religion 
is  ;  but  he  must  not  be  so  interested  in  some  one 
type  of  religion  as  to  be  incapable  of  dealing  im 
partially  with  religion  as  a  whole.  To  a  certain 
degree,  Berkeley  possessed  this  quality  also.  He 
showed  himself  able  to  treat  with  impartiality 
members  of  other  communions  than  his  own.  He 
certainly  believed  that  they  erred,  the  Roman 
Catholics  through  excess  of  superstition,  the  dis 
senters  through  excess  of  enthusiasm  ;  but  he  was 
inclined  to  look  upon  these  errors,  and  especially  the 
latter,  with  indulgence.1  Berkeley  was  certainly  not 
a  bigoted  Churchman.  But  he  was  a  bigoted 
Christian,  and  he  had  not  the  slightest  sympathy 
with  the  free-thinkers.  This  dulled  his  mind  in  the 

1  One  or  two  examples  of  this  may  be  mentioned.  In  Rhode 
Island  he  did  his  best  to  placate  the  dissenters,  and  in  preaching 
at  Newport  he  "  treated  only  those  general  points  agreed  by  all 
Christians  "  (Letter  to  Percival,  Aug.  30,  1729).  He  also  advised 
the  missionaries  of  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel 
to  try  to  conciliate  the  nonconformists  in  Rhode  Island  (Works, 
iv.  370).  And  he  gave  his  house  in  Rhode  Island  to  the 
"  College  at  New  Haven,"  now  Yale  University,  for  the  provision 
of  scholarships  to  be  awarded  irrespective  of  denominational 
considerations.  Berkeley's  attitude  to  Roman  Catholicism  is 
rather  more  complex.  But  it  is  certainly  not  bigoted.  See 
A  Word  to  the  Wise,  iv.  541,  and  the  Letter  to  Sir  John  James, 
iv,  519, 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  325 

deist  controversy,  and  rendered  him  incapable  of 
appreciating  some  of  the  points  which  they  tried  to 
make.  In  respect  of  this  quality  of  impartiality 
Berkeley  certainly  suffers  by  comparison  with  the 
calm,  impartial,  and  judicial  Butler. 

(iv)  But  one  obvious  quality  of  the  philosopher 
of  religion  still  remains  to  be  mentioned.  He  must 
be  able  to  philosophise,  and  he  must  believe  in  the 
possibility  of  a  philosophical  interpretation  and 
formulation  of  religion.  With  regard  to  the  former 
point,  it  would  be  impertinent  to  say  anything  of 
Berkeley,  naturally  the  keenest  mind  in  the  history 
of  English  philosophy.  And  the  latter  half  of  the 
qualification  is  also  possessed  by  Berkeley ;  he 
believed  that  a  rational  formulation  of  religious 
truth  is  perfectly  attainable. 

On  all  these  grounds,  then,  it  is  clear  that  Berkeley 
was  well  qualified  to  write  on  the  philosophy  of 
religion  ;  and  in  the  circumstances  in  which  he  lived 
it  is  not  strange  that  his  philosophical  activity  was 
not  only  influenced  by  the  deist  controversy,  but 
was  almost  dominated  by  it.  For  in  his  religious 
views,  as  in  all  else,  Berkeley  was  very  much  the  child 
of  his  time.  It  would,  indeed,  be  difficult  to  name  a 
thinker  who  was  more  influenced  by  contemporary 
life  and  thought  than  he  was.  And  it  is  natural  that 
the  religious  tendencies  of  the  day  should  have 
exercised  an  especially  profound  influence  upon 
him.  For  religion,  more  than  any  other  fruit  of 
the  spirit,  draws  its  substance  from  the  soil  in 
which  it  grows. 

In  order  to  understand  the  progress  of  the  deist 
controversy,  and  the  place  which  Berkeley  took  in  it, 


326    •          BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

it  is  necessary  to  uncover  its  roots  in  the  latitudi- 
narianism  of  the  Church  of  England. 

In  the  late  seventeenth  and  early  eighteenth 
centuries  the  moderation  and  toleration  of  the 
Church  of  England  were  specially  marked,  and 
it  came  to  be  officially  held  that  the  standard  of 
the  truth  of  religion  is  not  the  authority  of  the  Church 
nor  the  authority  of  Scripture,  but  natural  reason, 
which  is  common  to  all  men. 

This  view  was  emphasised  and  popularised  by 
two  prominent  Anglican  divines,  Chillingworth * 
and  Tillotson,  both  of  whom  asserted  in  the  most 
uncompromising  terms  the  prerogative  of  reason 
to  investigate  and  determine  the  truth  of  religious 
experience.  "  Nothing,"  says  the  latter,  "  ought  to 
be  received  as  a  revelation  from  God,  which  plainly 
contradicts  the  principles  of  natural  religion."  "  And 
nothing,"  he  adds,  "  ought  to  be  received  as  a  divine 
doctrine  or  revelation,  without  good  proof  that  it  is 
so."  2  Tillotson  claimed  the  right  of  examining 
religious  experience  rationally,  whether  it  purported 
to  be  guaranteed  by  Scripture  or  immediate  experi 
ence.  Towards  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century 
the  English  theologians  were  all  bent  on  constructing 
a  rational  or  philosophical  system  of  religion.  The 
Cambridge  Platonists  rationalised  and  allegorised 
with  a  view  to  the  interpretation  of  the  true  universal 
meaning  of  religious  beliefs  as  actually  experienced. 

1  Berkeley  had  a  high  opinion  of  Chillingworth.     (Cf.  Letter  to 
Johnson,  March  24,  1730.) 

2  Tillotson's  Sermons,  i.  225,  quoted  in  Leslie  Stephen's  English 
Thought  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,  i.   78.     This  paragraph  and 
the  next  owe  much  to  this  book  and  to  Lechler's  Geschichte  des 
Englischen  Deismus. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  327 

And  other  theologians  tried  to  formulate  theoretical 
proofs  of  such  religious  fundamentals  as  the  existence 
of  God  and  the  immortality  of  the  soul. 

Such  was  the  religious  position  in  the  English 
Church  when  Berkeley  was  born.  But  before  he 
reached  manhood  the  rationalising  tendencies  of  the 
Church  were  being  developed  and  turned  against 
Christianity.  The  consequent  growth  of  scepticism 
in  one  way  advanced,  and  in  another  retarded,  the 
progress  of  a  genuine  philosophy  of  religion.  It 
certainly  gave  rise  to  a  keener  and  more  extensive 
examination  of  the  basis  of  religion  than  would 
otherwise  have  been  the  case.  On  the  other  hand, 
a  philosophy  of  religion  requires  for  its  development 
an  atmosphere  free  of  controversy  and  parti  pris ; 
and  the  heated  disputes  which  raged  for  the  next 
fifty  years,  though  they  stimulated  interest  in  re 
ligion,  undoubtedly  had  an  unfortunate  effect  on  its 
philosophical  interpretation. 

The  germs  of  scepticism  had  thus  been  sown 
within  the  Church  long  before  the  deist  controversy 
actually  broke  out ;  and  it  did  not  escape  the  leading 
deists  that  their  views  had  nearly  all  been  suggested 
by  professedly  orthodox  Churchmen.  Collins,  for 
example,  declared  that  nobody  doubted  the  existence 
of  God  till  the  Boyle  lecturers  undertook  to  demon 
strate  it,  and  he  referred  to  Tillotson  as  the  man 
"  whom  all  English  free-thinkers  own  as  their  head." 
The  men  who  actually  started  the  controversy 
and  the  immediate  questions  which  they  raised 
were  alike  mean  and  small.  Although  the  greatest 
problems  were  involved,  hardly  any  question  of  the 
first  importance  was  explicitly  raised  at  first.  The 


328  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

disputants  on  both  sides  engaged  in  tremendous 
battles  over  matters  which  to  us  now  seem  of  very 
little  consequence.  But  more  was  at  stake  than 
appeared  on  the  surface,  or  even  than  the  combatants 
themselves  were  aware  of.  The  free-thinkers  them 
selves  made  no  contribution  at  all  to  the  philosophy 
of  religion,  but  their  activity  forced  the  defenders  of 
Christianity  to  bestir  themselves  to  formulate  a 
systematic  rationale  of  religion. 

The  deists  may,  indeed,  be  regarded  as  the 
Sophists  of  the  philosophy  of  religion.  As  the 
Sophists  deserve  credit  for  compelling  by  their  doubts 
and  denials  the  formulation  of  a  more  adequate 
philosophy  of  knowledge  and  conduct,  the  deists  by 
their  scepticism  forced  the  orthodox  to  examine  and 
re-interpret  the  facts  of  religion  which  were  being 
so  openly  and  so  vigorously  questioned.  Thus  the 
existence  of  the  deist  controversy  and  the  emergence 
of  a  philosophy  of  religion  in  England  in  the  eighteenth 
century  were  complementary  and  closely-related 
facts,  and  it  is  interesting  to  note  that  as  the  free- 
thinking  conflagration  died  down  the  philosophical 
study  of  religion  languished. 

We  must  now  proceed  to  indicate  in  some  detail 
Berkeley's  attitude  to  the  deist  controversy,  whose 
genesis  we  have  just  sketched. 

Berkeley  early  adopted  towards  all  free-thinkers 
a  position  of  uncompromising  hostility.  This 
critical  attitude  was  never  abandoned,  and  it  is 
revealed  in  some  form  or  other  in  almost  everything 
he  wrote. 

In  the  Commonplace  Boole  (1705-8)  the  free 
thinkers  come  in  for  much  criticism  ;  and  the  New 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  329 

Theory  of  Vision  (1709),  while  not  ostensibly  directed 
against  scepticism,  was  certainly  regarded  by  its 
author  as  a  useful  weapon  with  which  to  attack  it.1 
The  Principles  (1710)  has  as  one  of  its  chief  objects 
an  enquiry  into  "  the  grounds  of  scepticism,  atheism, 
and  ir religion  "  ;  and  the  Three  Dialogues  (1713) 
brings  the  practical  religious  aim  into  even  greater 
prominence,  stating  on  the  title-page  that  its  design 
is  "  plainly  to  demonstrate  the  reality  and  perfection 
of  human  knowledge,  the  incorporeal  nature  of  the 
soul,  and  the  immediate  providence  of  a  deity,  in 
opposition  to  sceptics  and  atheists."  In  the  same 
year  he  entered  the  lists  in  a  more  popular  way  with 
the  essays  which  he  contributed  to  the  Guardian. 
The  first  of  these  is  a  review  of  Collins 's  Discourse  of 
Free-thinking,  which  had  been  published  early  that 
year  ;  and  nearly  all  the  others  are  written  in 
criticism  of  deism  and  in  defence  of  Christianity. 
After  1713  a  period  of  twenty  years  of  almost 
complete  literary  barrenness  elapsed,2  during  which 
he  was  occupied  in  travel  and  in  endeavours  to  stamp 
out  practical  atheism,  but  when  in  1732  he  again 
appeared  in  print  it  was  once  more  to  attack  his  old 

1  The  application  to  religion  is  made  explicit  in  the  Theory  of 
Vision  Vindicated  (1733).     With  regard  to  the  New  Theory  of 
Vision  Berkeley  writes  to  Percival  as  follows  :    (March  1,  1710.) 
"  In  a  little  time  I  hope  to  make  what  is  there  laid  down  appear 
subservient  to  the  ends  of  morality  and  religion  in  a  treatise 
I  have  now  in  the  press  [The  Principles'],  the  design  of  which  is, ... 
by  showing  the  emptiness  and  falseness  of  several  parts  of  the 
speculative  sciences,  to  reduce  men  to  the  study  of  religion  and 
things  useful." 

2  Berkeley's  only  publications  in  the  twenty  years  from  1713 
till  1732  were  the  small  tracts  De  Motu  (1721),  An  Essay  towards 
preventing  the  Ruin  of  Great  Britain  (1721),  and  A  Proposal  for 
the  better  supplying  of  Churches  in  our  Foreign  Plantations  (1725). 


330  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

enemies.  The  book  that  was  published  in  that  year 
was  Alciphron,  his  most  careful  and  most  pretentious 
work,  which  is  described  not  inadequately  on  the 
title-page  as  "an  apology  for  the  Christian  Religion 
against  those  who  are  called  free-thinkers."  It  was 
directed  chiefly  against  Collins,  Mandeville,  and 
Shaftesbury,  and  gave  rise  to  a  good  deal  of  con 
troversy.  Mandeville  produced  his  Letter  to  Dion, 
in  which  he  complained  of  misrepresentation,  Browne 
defended  his  theory  of  analogical  knowledge  in 
Divine  Analogy,  and  one  or  two  other  criticisms 
appeared.  All  were  ignored  by  Berkeley  except  an 
anonymous  letter  printed  in  the  Daily  Post-boy  of 
September  9,  1732,  which  he  thought  important 
enough  to  answer  in  the  Theory  of  Vision  Vindicated 
(1733).  And  he  continued  to  attack  various  aspects 
of  free-thinking  in  the  Analyst  ("A  Discourse 
Addressed  to  an  Infidel  Mathematician,"  1734),  A 
Defence  of  Free-thinking  in  Mathematics  (1735),  and 
A  Discourse  Addressed  to  Magistrates  and  Men  in 
Authority  (1736).  Last  of  all,  in  Siris  (1744)  his 
work  reached  its  culmination  in  the  attempt  to  give, 
for  the  final  confusion  of  sceptics,  a  perfectly  adequate 
philosophical  interpretation  of  religion  and  things 
in  general.  In  every  one  of  these  works  Berkeley 
had  in  view  the  refutation  of  the  deists. 

It  has  not  been  noticed,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  that 
the  most  remarkable  thing  about  Berkeley's  partici 
pation  in  the  deist  controversy  is  just  the  fact  that 
he  did  take  part  in  it  against  the  deists.  Berkeley 
early  developed,  as  we  have  seen,  a  precocious  hetero 
doxy  in  philosophy,  and  it  is  not  without  interest 
that  this  heterodoxy  did  not,  ostensibly  at  least, 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  331 

extend  to  religion.  And  it  seems  worth  while,  at  the 
cost  of  a  slight  digression,  to  make  clear  Berkeley's 
motives  in  adopting  his  critical  attitude  to  the  deists. 
His  mind  was  naturally  sceptical,  and  he  always 
refused  to  rest  content  with  anything  less  than 
experimental  evidence.  One  or  two  amusing  anec 
dotes  of  his  student-days  illustrate  his  aversion  to 
taking  anything  on  trust.1  And  in  philosophy  his 
regular  line  of  argument  is,  Do  not  believe  anything 
which  you  cannot  prove  for  yourself.  Refuse  to 
believe  in  abstract  ideas  simply  because  authoritative 
philosophers  proclaim  their  existence.  Try  yourself 
if  you  can  frame  an  abstract  idea,  and  if  you  cannot, 
do  not  believe  in  the  doctrine.  Now,  if  this  attitude 
be  applied  to  religion,  it  becomes  that  of  the  typical 
free-thinker.  Berkeley  tells  us  himself  that  he  "  was 
distrustful  at  eight  years  old  ;  and  consequently  by 
nature  disposed  for  these  new  doctrines."  2  He  is 
referring  here  to  philosophy  ;  but  if  a  man  is  by 
nature  disposed  for  new  doctrines  in  philosophy,  it 
seems  strange  that  he  should  not  be  similarly  disposed 
for  new  doctrines  in  religion.  Berkeley  was  a  free 
thinker  in  philosophy  and  mathematics,  but  he  did 
not  extend  his  free-thinking  to  religion.  Why  this 
distinction  ? 

At  one  time  he  was  inclined  to  draw  an  absolute 
distinction  between  philosophy  and  religion,  between 
reason  and  revelation.  Revealed  religion  is  the 
preserve  of  implicit  faith,  and  therefore  reason  with 
its  brood  of  doubts  has  no  right  to  trespass  upon  it. 
'''  When  I  say,"  he  writes,  "  I  will  reject  all  proposi 
tions  wherein  I  know  not  fully  and  adequately  and 
1  Life  and  Letters,  p.  22.  -  Commonplace  Book,  i.  79. 


332  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

clearly,  so  far  as  knowable,  the  thing  meant  thereby, 
this  is  not  to  be  extended  to  propositions  in  the 
Scripture.  I  speak  of  matters  of  Reason  and 
Philosophy — not  Revelation.  In  this  I  think  an 
humble,  implicit  faith  becomes  us  (when  we  cannot 
comprehend  or  understand  the  proposition),  such  as 
a  popish  peasant  gives  to  propositions  he  hears  at 
mass  in  Latin."  x  This  view  Berkeley  later  aban 
doned  :  the  important  point  about  the  passage  is  its 
emphasis,  which  shows,  of  course,  that  he  did  have 
doubts  in  religion,  and  that  he  came  to  the  deliberate 
conclusion  that  it  was  necessary  to  suppress  them. 
What  motives  can  he  have  had  for  stifling  the 
enquiries  of  his  spirit  in  religion  ? 

(1)  Shrewd  enough  in  practical  matters,  Berkeley 
saw  that  it  would  not  be  to  his  interest  to  incur  any 
suspicion  of  "  infidelity."  Preferment,  both  academic 
and  ecclesiastical,  depended  on  his  orthodoxy  ;  and 
therefore  orthodox  he  was.  There  is  some  evidence 
that  such  motives  may  have  induced  him  to  suppress 
his  doubts  in  religion. 

Thus  he  says  vigorously  in  the  Commonplace  Book 
"  I'd  never  blame  a  man  for  acting  upon  interest. 
He's  a  fool  that  acts  on  any  other  principles."  2  He 
knew  well  that  his  interest  demanded  perfect  con 
formity  to  the  Church,  and  accordingly  he  makes  the 
following  memorandum :  "  N.B.  To  use  utmost 
caution  not  to  give  the  least  handle  of  offence  to  the 
Church  or  Churchmen."  3  This  certainly  seems  to 
show  that  he  had  reached  the  deliberate  decision  not 
to  annoy  the  Church,  in  order  to  avoid  the  possibility 
of  prejudice  to  his  own  chance  of  advancement.  He 

1  Commonplace  Book,  i.  42.  2  i.  24.  3  i.  41. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  333 

always  took  pains  to  put  his  views  in  such  a  way 
that  they  would  "  go  down  with  "  people  ;  1  and 
when  he  was  developing  his  philosophical  principles 
he  was  scrupulously  careful  not  to  bring  them  into 
conflict,  at  any  point,  with  the  dogmas  of  the 
Church.2  It  is  perfectly  clear  that,  at  least  previous 
to  the  Bermuda  project,  he  had  an  eye  to  what  he 
himself  calls  "  the  main  chance."  He  was  very 
eager  for  ecclesiastical  preferment,  and  lost  no  chance 

1  Commonplace  Book,  i.  69.     Cf.  i.  92. 

2  When  he  is  writing  the  Commonplace  Book  the  arriere  pensee 
of  religion  is  constantly  at  the  back  of  his  mind.     He  is  careful 
to  see  whether  his  New  Principle  is  consistent  with  the  dogmas 
of  the  Church,  e.g.  the  Creation  and  the  Trinity  (pp.  62,  86,  10,  42). 
He  sees  that  there  is  difficulty  in  applying  his  view  to  the  Trinity  ; 
but  contents  himself  with  the  observation  that  the  danger  to  the 
Trinity  is  as  great  on  the  materialist  doctrine,  concluding  that, 
though  on  some  points  of  revealed  theology  demonstrative  know 
ledge  is  possible,  "  to  pretend  to  demonstrate  or  reason  anything 
about  the   Trinity  is  absurd.     Here  an  implicit  faith  becomes 
us  "  (pp.  28,  84).     (It  is  interesting  to  remember  that  the  denial 
of  the  Trinity  was  at  this  time  a  punishable  offence.     Only  six 
or  seven  years  before  Berkeley  made  these  entries — in  1699,  to  be 
exact — a  statute  of  King  William  decreed  that  the  punishment 
for  denying  the  Trinity  should  be  (for  the  first  offence)  incapacity 
to  hold  any  office  of  trust,  and  (for  the  second)  three  years' 
imprisonment  with  other  penalties.     This  Act  relaxed  the  law 
that  was  previously  in  force.     In  1696  a  man  was  hanged  for 
denying  the  Trinity.)     But  Berkeley  is  anxious  not  merely  to 
show  that  his  views  are  consistent  with  the  dogmas  of  the  Church, 
but  also  to  prove  that  they  confirm  these  doctrines.     If  the  New 
Principle  be  adopted,  he  says,  the  immortality  of  the  soul  may  be 
easily  understood  and  defended  (p.  59),  and  it  is  possible  to  give 
a  brief  and  direct  demonstration  of  the  existence  of  God  (p.  60). 
He  argues  that  many  of  the  theories  of  Locke  are  dangerous  to 
religion,  in  particular  the  doctrine  of  the  eternity  and  infinity 
of  space,  which  would  either  make  God  extended,  or  set  up,  in 
addition  to  God,  a  second  eternal  infinite  being  (pp.  39,  81,  82). 
And,  in  general,  he  regards  Locke  and  his  followers  as  the  patrons 
of  scepticism,  and  virtually  sets  himself  up  as  a  "  simple  Christian" 
in  opposition  to  these  "  higher  critics." 


334  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

of  improving  his  prospects  by  soliciting  the  favour 
of  those  in  power.1 

1  As  the  view  of  Berkeley's  motives  and  character  which  has 
just  been  suggested  is  very  different  from  the  traditional  one,  it 
is  necessary  to  confirm  it.  The  evidence  on  which  we  draw  is 
almost  all  contained  in  the  collection  of  letters  between  Berkeley 
and  Percival  (Berkeley  and  Percival,  edited  by  B.  Rand). 

Berkeley's  prospects  of  ecclesiastical  preferment  were  at  first 
seriously  affected  by  the  suspicion  that  he  was  a  Jacobite.  This 
was  based  on  the  sermons  which  he  preached  in  the  College  Chapel, 
and  though  he  attempted  to  dissipate  it  by  publishing  a  rechauffe 
of  them  in  the  Discourse  on  Passive  Obedience,  he  did  not  succeed 
in  dispelling  the  cloud  under  which  he  rested.  In  1716  he  was 
presented  to  the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Wales  by  Molyneux,  and 
the  Prince  recommended  him  to  the  living  of  St.  Paul's,  Dublin. 
But  the  authorities  still  believed  that  he  was  disaffected,  and, 
though  his  friends  did  all  they  could  for  him,  he  and  they  were 
unable  to  secure  his  advancement.  Before  the  end  of  the  year 
Berkeley  left  for  Italy. 

In  1721  he  was  again  in  Dublin,  as  eager  as  before  for  ecclesi 
astical  preferment.  He  wrote  to  Percival,  afterwards  first  Earl 
of  Egmont,  informing  him  that  the  Deanery  of  Dromore  was 
vacant,  and  begging  him  to  use  his  influence  on  his  behalf. 
"  I  had  no  sooner  set  foot  on  shore,"  he  says  in  the  letter  of 
October  12,  1721,  "  but  I  heard  that  the  Deanery  of  Dromore  was 
become  vacant.  ...  I  instantly  applied  to  His  Grace,  and  put 
him  in  mind  of  his  promises."  He  also  mentions  that  he  had 
written  in  the  matter  to  the  Earl  of  Burlington,  and  had  sought 
the  favour  of  the  Duchess  of  Grafton  and  of  Fairfax,  who,  he 
thotight,  were  both  well-disposed  to  him.  The  letter  of  January 
9,  1722,  reveals  something  of  his  remarkable  persistence  in  seeking 
his  own  advancement. 

As  the  result  of  this,  the  Deanery  was  granted  to  him  ;  but  the 
right  of  appointment  was  claimed  by  Lambert,  Bishop  of  Dro 
more,  who  nominated  Lesley,  his  clerk.  In  the  lawsuit  which 
ensued  Berkeley  spared  no  pains  in  his  efforts  to  win  the  case, 
employing  eight  lawyers  and  using  all  the  influence  he  could  bring 
to  bear.  In  order  to  help  him  to  meet  the  expenses  of  the  suit, 
he  asked  Percival  to  try  to  get  for  him  the  Chantership  of  Christ 
Church,  which  happened  to  be  vacant  at  the  time.  Percival  did 
his  best,  but  the  Duke  of  Grafton  would  not  hear  of  giving  it  to 
Berkeley,  even  for  the  duration  of  the  suit.  Berkeley's  next 
letters  are  all  concerned  with  the  lawsuit,  which  progressed  very 
slowly,  and  made  him  very  impatient  of  lawyers  and  the  world 
in  general.  He  was  annoyed,  too,  he  says,  that  it  detained  him 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  335 

Now,  he  was  aware  that  it  was  an  essential  con 
dition  of  his  success  in  the  Church  that  he  should 
either  keep  clear  of  the  deist  controversy  altogether, 
or,  preferably,  adopt  a  hostile  attitude  towards  free- 
thinking.  Now,  there  is  one  thing  that  Berkeley 
never  did.  He  never  "  hedged  "  in  any  matter, 
either  speculative  or  practical.  Thus  it  was 

in  Ireland,  and  prevented  his  prosecuting  his  interest  in  England. 
He  began  to  despair  of  success,  and  devised  an  ingenious  scheme 
for  securing  the  deanery  without  fighting  the  case  to  the  bitter 
end.  According  to  this  plan,  Lesley  was  to  be  made  a  bishop. 
If  that  were  done,  the  Bishop  of  Dromore  would  probably  not 
press  his  right  to  appoint  to  the  deanery,  and  Berkeley's  entry 
would  accordingly  be  unopposed.  But  as  the  scheme  did  not 
meet  with  the  approval  of  those  in  power  Berkeley  was  forced  to 
abandon  the  hope  it  offered  of  attaining  his  end.  In  October, 
however,  he  wrote  to  Percival  to  suggest  a  new  solution  of  the 
difficulty. 

The  Dean  of  Derry  was  seriously  ill,  and  Berkeley  thought  that, 
if  the  proper  means  were  used,  he  might  obtain  that  deanery  on 
the  death  of  the  dean.  Percival  thought  the  suggestion  a  good 
one,  and  expressed  his  best  wishes  ;  but  as  he  was  not  willing  to 
interview  the  Lord  Lieutenant  on  Berkeley's  behalf,  this  project 
also  had  to  be  laid  aside.  Meanwhile  the  deanery  of  Down  had 
become  vacant,  and  again  Berkeley  was  an  applicant.  Again  he 
was  doomed  to  disappointment.  But  at  last,  on  May  5,  1724, 
he  was  able  to  tell  Percival  that  he  had  received  the  deanery  of 
Derry.  The  lawsuit  with  regard  to  the  deanery  of  Dromore  was 
still  dragging  on,  and  Berkeley  was  thoroughly  glad  to  be  rid  of 
it,  though  so  long  as  his  interest  demanded,  he  carried  it  on  with 
remarkable  persistence. 

So  far,  Berkeley  seems  to  have  been  a  decidedly  calculating 
man,  with  a  fixed  determination  to  do  the  best  he  could  for  him 
self.  But  suddenly,  in  1723,  he  intimated  to  Percival  his 
dramatic  decision  to  go  as  a  missionary  to  the  New  World.  And 
thenceforth  his  motto  was  non  sibi  sed  toti  mundo.  (For  his 
motives  in  this  project,  see  Berkeley  and  Percival,  pp.  203-236  ; 
his  "  Essay  towards  preventing  the  Ruin  of  Great  Britain," 
Works,  iv.  319;  his  "Proposal  for  the  better  supplying  of 
Churches  in  our  Foreign  Plantations,"  Works,  iv.  341  ;  and 
my  review  of  Berkeley  and  Percival  in  Mind,  N.S.  no.  94,  p. 
267.) 


336  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

necessary  for  him,  under  the  circumstances,  to  be 
uncompromisingly  opposed  to  free-thinking. 

(2)  The  second  reason  for  Berkeley's  active  inter 
vention  in  opposition  to  the  free-thinkers  is  more 
problematical.  Possibly  he  criticised  deism  because 
it  was  popular  and  because  it  was  easy  to  criticise. 
The  man  who  wished  to  attract  attention  (and  it  is 
indubitable  that  inter  alia  this  was  Berkeley's 
intention)  could  not  do  better  than  take  part  in  the 
controversies  to  which  free-thinking  had  given  rise. 
"  The  dissection  of  a  deist  was  a  recognised  title  to 
obtaining  preferment."  x  Now,  Berkeley  saw  very 
clearly  the  weak  points  in  the  arguments  of  such  men 
as  Toland  and  Collins.  He  perceived  that  it  would 
be  relatively  easy  to  establish  a  position  from  which 
they  might  be  criticised.  It  needed  a  great  deal  less 
acuteness  than  he  possessed  to  recognise  that  they 
are  essentially  dull  and  ineffective.  None  of  the 
English  deists  have  the  wit  and  incisiveness  of 
Voltaire,  and  they  do  not  make  nearly  as  much  of 
their  case  as  really  penetrating  critics  would  have 
done.  To  criticise  the  deists  was  thus  a  relatively 
easy  task,  and  one,  moreover,  from  which  a  good  deal 
of  credit  might  be  expected.2 

1  Leslie  Stephen,  English  Thought  in  the  Eighteenth  Century, 
i.  86. 

2  Berkeley's  general  philosophical  attitude  is  so  similar  to  that 
of  the  deists  that  it  is  difficult  to  avoid  believing  (though  the 
supposition  does  not  admit  of  serious  argument)  that  he  may  have 
been  seriously  tempted  during  his  student-days  to  throw  in  his 
lot  with  them.     Had  he  done  so,  he  would  certainly  have  been 
much  more  formidable  than  any  of  them.     To  the  deists  his  acute 
dialectic  and  subtle  satire  would  have  been  invaluable  weapons. 
And  he  would  have  enjoyed  himself  hugely  if  he  had  been  in  a 
position  to  bait  Clarke  and  Whiston,  Browne  and  King,  and  the 
.other  prominejit  £hepl9.gians  of  the  day,  not  on  philosophical 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  337 

That  such  considerations  as  these  may  have 
contributed  to  the  formation  of  Berkeley's  attitude 
to  deism  will,  no  doubt,  appear  startling  to  those 
who  have  been  accustomed  to  picture  an  angelic 
Berkeley  so  transparently  disinterested  as  to  win  the 
support  of  State  and  Church  for  his  impracticable 
and  Utopian  missionary  scheme,  and  so  wonderfully 
good  that  Pope  ascribed  to  him  every  virtue  under 
heaven.1  No  one,  of  course,  would  dream  of  denying 
the  real  strain  of  deep  piety  in  Berkeley's  character, 
and  there  is  no  doubt  that  that  supplies  one  motive 
for  his  opposition  to  deism.  But  it  has  seemed 
necessary  to  insist  that  it  is  not  the  only  one. 

In  any  case,  whether  for  the  reasons  we  have 
mentioned  or  not,  Berkeley  decided  to  range  himself 
against  the  free-thinkers  ;  and  nearly  all  his  books, 
as  we  have  seen,  have  them  in  view. 

In  the  mass  of  Berkeley's  controversial  writings 
on  deism  there  is  naturally  a  good  deal  of  repetition  ; 
and  his  contribution  to  the  philosophy  of  religion 

points  where,  since  few  took  any  interest  in  obscure  metaphysics, 
these  men  might  safely  refuse  to  answer  him,  but  on  the  funda 
mentals  of  Christianity,  where  they  would  be  bound,  for  the  sake 
of  the  Church,  to  reply  to  his  attacks. 

And,  if  one  may  carry  the  merest  speculation  a  step  further, 
it  seems  not  improbable  that,  if  Toland  had  never  lived,  Berkeley 
might  have  been  the  leader  of  free -thinking  in  the  eighteenth 
century.  For  Toland's  personality  may  have  had  something  to 
do  with  Berkeley's  aversion  from  the  cause  of  which  he  was  the 
early  leader.  The  polished  scholar  in  Berkeley  had  an  intuitive 
antipathy  to  such  a  literary  swashbuckler  as  Toland,  and  possibly 
this  natural  incompatibility  may  have  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with 
his  opposition  to  the  deists.  But  Berkeley's  incjenium  was 
naturally  sceptical,  and  he  can  hardly  have  avoided  seeing  how 
easy  it  would  have  been  to  apply  his  theory  to  criticise  not  free- 
thinking  but  Christianity. 

1  Epilogue  to  the  Satires,  ii.  70. 


338  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

may  best  be  estimated,  if  we  consider  first  his 
attitude  to  the  immediate  questions  raised  by  the 
deists,  and  then  proceed  to  state  his  general  views 
on  the  universal  problems  of  religion. 

The  main  contention  of  the  deists  was  simply 
an  extension  of  the  argument  of  Chilling  worth, 
Tillotson,  and  Locke.  Locke  and  the  theologians 
endeavoured  to  found  a  "  reasonable  Christianity  " 
by  welding  into  a  system  those  beliefs  in  which  both 
reason  and  Christianity  agree.  The  deists  went 
further,  and  maintained  that,  as  Christianity  is  only 
a  particular  religion,  it  is  necessary,  in  order  to 
establish  an  ultimately  credible  natural  religion,  to 
find  those  beliefs  in  which  reason  and  religion-in- 
general  agree.  The  deists  believed  that  in  this 
process  of  constructing  a  true  natural  religion  many 
of  the  doctrines  of  Christianity,  including  all  its 
"  mysteries,"  would  have  to  be  abandoned. 

Berkeley,  Butler,  and  other  Christian  apologists 
met  this  contention  by  attempting  to  prove  that 
every  religious  belief  conformable  to  reason  is  a 
Christian  belief.  Berkeley  accepted  the  deists' 
premiss  that  religion  is  wider  than  Christianity,  but 
he  pointed  out  that  religion  includes  both  reasonable 
beliefs  and  fantastic  superstitions.  Fantastic  super 
stitions,  he  argued,  are  to  be  found,  not  in  Chris 
tianity,  but  in  non-Christian  religions  ;  and  religion 
so  far  forth  as  it  is  rational  religion  may  be  identified 
with  Christianity.  Thus  the  system  of  beliefs  in 
which  reason  and  religion  agree  is  Christianity. 

From  the  standpoint  of  the  philosophy  of  religion, 
the  importance  of  the  advance  made  by  Berkeley 
beyond  the  general  position  of  the  seventeenth  and 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  339 

early  eighteenth  centuries  lay  in  his  recognition  that 
he  was  giving  a  philosophical  treatment  to  religion 
in  general,  and  not  merely  to  Christianity.  The 
seventeenth  century  had  contented  itself  with,  at 
the  most,  a  philosophy  of  the  Christian  religion  ;  but 
Berkeley  and  Butler  were  forced  by  the  arguments 
of  the  deists  to  take  account  of  "  natural  religion," 
and,  though  they  maintained  that  this  "  natural 
religion  "  adds  no  truth  to  Christianity,  their  real 
significance  consists  in  advancing  beyond  a  mere 
interpretation  of  Christianity,  and  attempting  a 
genuine  philosophy  of  religion. 

Of  all  the  deists  the  most  important  were  Toland, 
Tindal,  Woolston  and  Collins.  Toland,  following 
Locke,  maintains  that  reason  is  the  only  foundation 
of  certainty.  But  he  goes  beyond  Locke  in  holding 
that  no  beliefs  are  justifiable  unless  there  are  rational 
grounds  for  them  ;  l  and  he  restricts  the  validity  of 
the  principle  of  probability  to  practical  matters  alone. 
"  I  banish  all  hypotheses  from  my  philosophy,"  2 
he  says,  adapting  a  famous  phrase  of  Newton's  ;  and 
he  declares  that  probability  provides  no  adequate 
basis  for  religious  beliefs. 

Now,  when  this  theory  is  applied  to  Christianity, 
one  of  two  conclusions  must  result.  It  follows  either 
that  Christianity,  basing  itself  on  probabilities,  is 
false  ;  or  that,  because  it  is  true,  it  must  be  wholly 
rational  and  contain  no  mysteries.  The  former  con 
clusion  is  almost  certainly  the  one  that  Toland  really 
believed,  but  the  latter  is  what  he  professed.  The 
ostensible  burden  of  his  argument  is  that  Chris 
tianity  contains  nothing  either  contrary  to  reason  or 

1  Christianity  not  Mysterious,  p    22.  2  Ibid.  p.  15. 


340  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

above  reason.  The  so-called  Christian  mysteries 
involve  no  ultimate  inexplicabilities  ;  and,  if  they 
seem  mysterious  to  us,  it  is  only  because  their 
meaning  has  not  yet  been  fully  revealed,  for  there  is 
nothing  ultimately  foreign  to  reason  in  them.  Hence 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  faith,  or,  if  we  retain  the 
word  faith,  we  should  remember  that  "  it  is  entirely 
built  upon  ratiocination."  1 

The  arguments  of  Toland  were  taken  up  and 
developed  by  Tindal,  who  reduced  Christianity  to  a 
body  of  ethical  maxims  that  had  been  formulated 
even  better  by  Confucius.  Like  Toland,  he  pro 
fessed  to  be  anxious  to  purge  Christianity  of  its 
mysteries  ;  and  in  Christianity  as  Old  as  the  Creation 
he  vigorously  attacked  the  miracles  of  Christianity, 
finding  both  in  sacred  history  and  theological  dogma 
abundant  examples  of  the  two  Mies  noires  of  the 
age — "  enthusiasm  "  and  "  superstition." 

Beside  these  arguments  we  may  set,  though  on  a 
much  lower  level,  Woolston's  attempts,  in  his  Six 
Discourses,2  to  allegorise  the  miracles  of  the  Bible. 
When  he  wrote  these  tracts,  he  was  almost  certainly 
mad.  Though  he  regarded  himself  as  "at  bottom 
as  sound  as  a  rock,"  3  he  tried  to  prove  that  practi 
cally  the  whole  Bible  is  "  a  fraud  and  a  cheat." 
But  in  spite  of  his  mental  alienation,  he  retained 
enough  of  his  study  of  Origen  to  be  able  to  apply,  in 
an  extreme  form,  that  thinker's  method  of  allegorical 
interpretation  to  the  miracles  of  the  New  Testament. 

1  Christianity  not  Mysterious,  p.  127. 

2  These  tracts  had  an  immense  circulation.     Voltaire  estimated 
the  total  sale  at  30,000. 

3  Six  Discourses,  p.  68. 


341 

This  series  of  arguments  against  the  miracles  and 
mysteries  of  Christianity  was  answered  by  Berkeley 
in  the  second  and  sixth  dialogues  in  Alciphron.  With 
an  abundance  of  learning  he  defends  the  historical 
accuracy  of  Scripture,  and  the  rationality  of  the 
articles  of  the  Christian  faith  ;  and  examines  care 
fully  the  difficulties,  emphasised  by  Tindal  and 
Woolston,  in  the  form  and  matter  of  the  Christian 
revelation.  So  far  as  this  part  of  the  controversy 
is  concerned,  the  progress  of  Biblical  Criticism  has 
cut  away  the  ground  from  under  the  feet  of  the 
participants,  and  it  would  hardly  have  even  historical 
interest  to  recount  in  detail  the  arguments  advanced 
on  both  sides. 

But  Berkeley's  general  philosophical  conclusion 
is  still  of  interest  and  even  of  importance.  He 
insists  that,  if  we  admit  that  the  essence  of  Chris 
tianity  is  the  same  as  "  natural  religion,"  we  must 
not  define  "  natural  religion  "  in  so  narrow  a  way 
as  to  render  it  unsatisfying  to  the  religious  conscious 
ness.  The  religious  consciousness,  with  its  complex 
needs  and  aspirations,  will  not  rest  content  with  a 
religion  which  is  purged  of  the  miraculous  and  the 
mysterious.  The  element  of  mystery  and  miracle 
cannot  be  banished  from  Christianity  without  doing 
violence  to  its  spirit.  And  if  it  could  be  expunged 
from  religion  in  general,  one  of  life's  spiritual  values 
would  be  destroyed.  The  ultimate  determination  of 
what  is  or  is  not  valuable  in  religion  must  be  made 
by  the  religious  consciousness.  The  religious  con 
sciousness  decides  what  is  and  what  is  not  true 
religion,  just  as  the  knowing  consciousness  decides 
what  is  and  what  is  not  true  knowledge.  And,  as  the 


342  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

esse  of  the  external  world  is  per  dpi,  the  esse  of  religion 
may  be  said  to  be  credi.  Belief  or  faith  is  the 
characteristic  attitude  of  religion,  and  Berkeley 
insists,  against  the  deists,  (a)  that  faith  is  necessary 
to  religion,  and  (6)  that  probable  arguments  form  an 
adequate  basis  for  faith.  "  Knowledge,  I  grant,  in 
a  strict  sense,  cannot  be  had  without  evidence  or 
demonstration  :  but  probable  arguments  are  a  suffi 
cient  ground  of  faith.  Whoever  supposed  that  scien- 
tifical  proofs  were  necessary  to  make  a  Christian  ? 
Faith  alone  is  required  ;  and,  provided  that,  in  the 
main  and  upon  the  whole,  men  are  persuaded,  this 
saving  faith  may  consist  with  some  degrees  of 
obscurity,  scruple,  and  error."  1  Thus  on  the 
whole  we  may  say  that,  while  Berkeley's  detailed 
arguments  are  chiefly  directed  against  Tindal  and 
Woolston,  his  general  philosophical  position  is 
intended  to  be,  in  the  main,  a  criticism  of  Toland. 

Now,  Toland  had  also  been  criticised  by  Browne, 
who  was  Provost  of  Trinity  College  when  Berkeley 
was  a  student,  and  was  subsequently  made  a  bishop  ; 
and  it  is  interesting  to  note  that  Berkeley,  in  develop 
ing  his  criticism  of  Toland,  came  into  conflict  with 
the  arguments  which  Browne  had  used  in  his 
attempt  to  pulverise  the  notorious  free-thinker. 

At  the  outset  there  is  a  certain  similarity  between 
the  theory  of  Berkeley  and  that  of  his  brother - 
bishop.  Both  maintain  that  probable  arguments 
are  sufficient  to  justify  faith  ;  both  admit  that,  in 
strictness,  knowledge  of  the  mysteries  of  Christianity 
is  impossible  ;  but  both  believe  that  we  may  have 
an  "  analogical  "  acquaintance  with  these  mysteries. 

1  Alciphron,  ii.  311. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  343 

But  though,  so  far,  the  two  bishops  seem  to  be  in 
perfect  agreement,  a  radical  difference  between  them 
soon  emerges, 

Browne's  reason  for  maintaining  the  impossibility 
of  real  knowledge  of  God  lies  in  a  positivist  distrust 
of  the  knowing-consciousness.  Of  God's  real  nature 
and  attributes,  he  says,  "  we  can  have  no  ideas  or 
conceptions  at  all,  either  in  whole  or  in  part,  distinct 
or  confused,  clear  or  obscure,  determinate  or  inde 
terminate."  l  "  The  true  nature  and  manner  of  all 
the  divine  operations  of  goodness  is  utterly  incom 
prehensible."  2  Any  knowledge  we  have  of  God 
must  be  analogical,  and  if  God  has  knowledge  of  us, 
that  also  is  analogical.  Our  analogical  knowledge  is 
below  the  level  of  ordinary  knowledge,  but  God's 
analogical  knowledge  is  above  that  level. 

With  any  such  sceptical  distrust  of  ordinary 
knowledge  Berkeley  has  no  sympathy,  for  he 
believes  firmly  in  the  power  and  adequacy  of  the 
knowing-consciousness,  and  cherishes  a  sturdy  con 
viction  that  knowledge  does  not  fail. 

This  general  difference  of  attitude  affects  the 
meaning  which  Berkeley  and  Browne  attach  to  the 
term  "  analogical."  Browne  developed  his  theory 
out  of  hints  in  Archbishop  King's  Sermon  on  Pre 
destination,3  in  which  it  was  shown  that  our  know 
ledge  of  God's  attributes  is  merely  "  metaphorical." 
For  the  term  "  metaphorical  "  Browne  substituted 

1  Things  Divine  and  Supernatural,  p.  237. 

2  Op.  cit.  p.  333.     Cf.  Alciphron,  ii.  179. 

3  Berkeley  wrote  a  few  words  of  criticism  of  this  sermon  in  a 
letter  to  Percival,  March  1,  1710.     And  it  is  interesting  to  note 
that  Collins  criticised  it  from  the  deist  standpoint,  in  a  tract 
published  in  1710,  on  precisely  the  same  grounds. 


344  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

"  analogical,"  and  maintained  that  we  have  an 
analogical  knowledge  of  God's  attributes.  In  other 
words,  while  the  wisdom  and  goodness  we  attribute 
to  God  are  not  the  same  as  the  corresponding 
qualities  which  we  ascribe  to  man,  they  are  very 
similar. 

This  view  Berkeley  criticised  on  the  ground  that 
it  involves  a  fallacy  of  four  terms.  He  insists  that, 
if  we  ascribe  any  attributes  at  all  to  God,  we  must 
mean  by  them  essentially  the  same  as  we  do  when  we 
apply  them  to  man.  "  Otherwise,"  he  says,  "  it  is 
evident  that  every  syllogism  brought  to  prove  those 
attributes,  or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  to  prove  the 
being  of  a  God,  will  be  found  to  consist  of  four  terms, 
and  consequently  can  conclude  nothing."  *  For 
himself,  he  maintains  that  our  knowledge  of  God,  so 
far  as  it  goes,  is  real ;  or,  if  we  say  that  it  is  analogical, 
all  we  mean  by  that  is  that  such  knowledge  is  not 
perfect  or  complete. 

Now,  it  might  conceivably  be  suggested  that  the 
only  difference,  after  all,  between  these  views  is 
that,  whereas  Browne  holds  that  the  goodness  we 
attribute  to  God  is  like  the  goodness  we  attribute 
to  man,  Berkeley  maintains  that  the  goodness  we 
attribute  to  God  is  very  like  the  goodness  we  attribute 
to  man.  In  other  words,  the  difference  between  the 
two  theories  is  merely  one  of  degree.  But  this 
criticism  cannot  be  upheld.  There  is  more  than  this 
between  Berkeley  and  Browne.  The  former  em 
phasises  the  difference  by  drawing  a  sharp  distinction 
between  analogical  as  meaning  (i)  metaphorical, 
and  (ii)  proportional.  He  denies  that  we  have 

1Alciphron,  ii.  188-189. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  345 

analogical  knowledge  of  God,  or  that  God's  know 
ledge  is  analogical,  in  the  former  sense.  But  he 
admits  that,  if  we  restrict  "  analogical  "  to  its  proper 
mathematical  sense,  such  qualities  as  wisdom  and 
knowledge,  which  per  se  involve  no  defect,  may  be 
analogically  predicated  of  God.  Analogy,  as  used  in 
mathematics,  i.e.  in  its  strict  and  proper  sense, 
signifies,  he  says,  "  a  similitude  of  proportions."  1 
Thus,  the  goodness  of  God  is  analogical  in  the  sense 
that  it  preserves  "  a  proportion  to  the  infinite  nature 
of  God."  2 

It  must  be  admitted,  I  think,  that  in  this  case 
Berkeley's  application  of  mathematical  conceptions 
is  not  very  successful.  It  does  not  help  us  to  know 
God's  goodness  if  we  know  that  it  is  proportionate 
to  his  nature,  for  we  do  not  know  his  nature.  From 
such  a  proportion  it  is  possible  under  certain  con 
ditions  to  determine  the  values  of  an  unknown  term, 
but  only  if  one  of  the  terms  is  already  known.  If 
we  merely  start  with  two  unknowns,  e.g.  God's 
nature  and  God's  goodness,  then  the  supposition 
that  there  is  a  proportion  between  them  does  not 
enable  us  to  determine  either. 

So  far,  in  our  account  of  Berkeley's  participation 
in  the  deist  controversy,  we  have  not  dealt  with  the 
most  important  of  all  the  deists.  This  is  Anthony 
Collins,  the  friend  and  disciple  of  Locke,  who  touched 
the  controversy  at  more  points  than  any  other,  and 
had,  besides,  the  additional  distinction,  from  our 
point  of  view,  of  attracting  Berkeley's  most  persistent 
attention. 

He  attacked  Collins  first  in  the  essays  against  free- 

1  Ibid.  ii.  186.  2  Ibid.  ii.  187. 


346  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

thinking  in  the  Guardian,  the  first  of  which  purports 
to  be  a  criticism  of  Collins'  Discourse  of  Free-thinking. 
It  is  really  an  argumentum  ad  hominem  of  the  most 
shameless  kind :  1  in  general,  in  the  Guardian, 
Berkeley  simply  rules  the  contentions  of  the  deists 
out  of  court  on  the  ground  that,  in  spite  of  all  their 
pretensions  to  breadth  of  mind  and  largeness  of 
outlook,  they  are  really  the  narrowest  of  men,  veri 
table  "  minute  philosophers  "  ;  and  he  compares  the 
free-thinker  to  a  fly  on  the  pillar  of  a  great  cathedral, 
so  engrossed  with  the  slight  inequalities  on  the 
surface  of  the  stone  as  to  be  incapable  of  appreciating 
the  beauty  of  the  building  as  a  whole.2 

Shortly  after  the  appearance  of  these  critical 
essays  in  the  Guardian,  Collins  published  his  Enquiry 
concerning  Human  Liberty,  which  gave  rise  to  a 
heated  controversy  with  Clarke,  and  is  criticised  by 
Berkeley  in  Alciphron.  Berkeley's  motive  in  main 
taining,  in  opposition  to  Collins,  that  man  is  free,  is, 
of  course,  a  religious  one.  To  defend  the  reality  and 
value  of  religion  he  finds  it  necessary  to  maintain 
human  freedom.  Now,  Collins  had  pointed  out 
clearly  the  sense  in  which  he  denies  freedom  to  man. 
He  admits  that  in  Locke's  sense  of  the  term  man  is 
free,  i.e.  "  man  has  a  power  to  do  as  he  wills  or 
pleases  "  ;  but  he  declares  that  such  freedom  is 
neither  adequate  nor  ultimately  real,  for  it  means 
nothing  but  "  freedom  or  liberty  from  outward 
impediments  of  action  "  ;  and  he  holds  that,  if  we 
are  free,  our  freedom  must  be  "  liberty  from  neces 
sity."  3  Now,  this  freedom,  Collins  holds,  is  an 
impossibility.  Man  is  "  a  necessary  agent,"  or  in 

1  Works,  iv.  139.          2  Works,  iv.  170.          3  Enquiry,  p.  20. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  347 

other  words,  "  all  his  actions  are  so  determined  by 
the  causes  preceding  each  action  that  not  one  past 
action  could  possibly  not  have  come  to  pass,  or  been 
otherwise  than  it  hath  been  ;  nor  one  future  action 
can  possibly  not  come  to  pass,  or  be  otherwise  than 
it  will  be." *•  He  advances  six  arguments  why 
freedom  is  impossible,  (i)  the  argument  from  experi 
ence,  (ii)  the  argument  from  "  the  impossibility  of 
liberty,"  (iii)  the  argument  from  "  the  imperfection 
of  liberty,"  (iv)  the  argument  from  "  divine  pre 
science,"  (v)  the  argument  from  reward  and  punish 
ment,  and  (vi)  the  argument  from  morality. 

Berkeley  considers  most  of  these  arguments,  but 
he  points  out  that  his  dissatisfaction  with  the  con 
clusions  of  Collins  and  the  other  free-thinkers  arises 
chiefly  from  disagreement  with  their  assumptions. 
The  problem  has  seemed  to  be  insoluble,  Berkeley 
says,  only  because  it  is  unreal.  Its  difficulties  have 
been  artificially  introduced  by  minute  philosophers. 
And  he  maintains  that,  in  reality,  in  order  to  be 
assured  of  freedom,  we  need  only  appeal  to  "  the 
Common  Sense  of  mankind,"  2  or  "  ask  any  plain 
unlettered  man."  3  And  this,  says  he,  is  the  only 
proof  we  need.  Yet,  in  the  second  edition,  Berkeley 
does  introduce  a  formal  proof.  It  is  this.  Whatever 
does  not  imply  a  contradiction  is  possible.  Whatever 
is  possible  may  be  supposed  to  be  real.  As  freedom 
implies  no  contradiction  it  is  possible,  and  may 

1  Op.  cit.  pp.  16-17.  2  Alciphron,  ii.  352. 

3  Although  Berkeley  makes  use  of  this  argument  from  common 
sense  he  is  aware  of  its  weakness.  And  he  objects  to  its  employ 
ment  by  the  minute  philosophers,  on  the  ground  that  when  they 
appeal  to  common  sense  ' '  they  mean  only  the  sense  of  their  own 
party  "  (ii.  269). 


348  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

therefore  be  supposed  to  be  real.  Man's  freedom  may 
be  regarded  as  real.  Now  any  plausibility  that  this 
"  proof  "  possesses  springs  from  its  similarity  to  the 
ontological  argument  from  conception  to  reality,  an 
argument  which  Berkeley  rejects.  Berkeley  has 
inferred  the  reality  of  freedom  from  the  fact  that  it 
can  be  supposed.  Now  if  the  ontological  argument 
is  valid,  its  validity  depends  on  the  fact  that  it  is 
directed  to  prove  the  existence  of  a  God,  who  is 
assumed  to  be  the  whole  of  reality.  If  God  be  con 
ceived  in  any  other  way  than  this,  the  ontological 
argument  cannot  be  defended.  In  the  case  of  any 
thing  partial,  such  as  freedom,  the  ontological  proof 
proves  nothing.  You  no  more  prove  that  freedom 
is  real  from  the  fact  that  it  is  supposed  than  you 
prove  that  there  is  a  shilling  in  my  pocket  by  suppos 
ing  that  it  is  there. 

For  Berkeley  freedom  has  a  great  religious  signifi 
cance.  It  is  the  religious  consciousness  that  demands 
freedom  for  itself.  It  demands  practical  freedom  in 
the  relations  between  man  and  man,  it  demands 
freedom  for  man  from  the  necessity  of  nature,  and 
it  demands  freedom  for  man  in  his  dealings  with  God. 
Berkeley  regards  the  denial  of  freedom  as  one  of  the 
most  pernicious  errors  of  the  deists. 

Berkeley's  outlook  is  not  bounded  by  the  some 
what  narrow  limits  of  the  deist  controversy.1  He 

1  Berkeley's  attacks  on  the  deists  represent  them  all  alike  as 
atheists  and  infidels.  But,  of  course,  the  deists  differed  much 
among  themselves.  Samuel  Clarke  distinguished  four  kinds, 
(i)  those  who  "  pretend  to  believe  the  existence  of  an  eternal, 
infinite,  independent,  intelligent  Being  ;  and  .  .  .  teach  also  that 
the  Supreme  Being  made  the  world  :  though  at  the  same  time  .  .  . 
they  fancy  that  God  does  not  at  all  concern  himself  in  the  govern 
ment  of  the  world,  nor  has  any  regard  to,  or  care  of,  what  is  done 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  349 

sees,  less  clearly  indeed  than  Butler,  but  more  clearly 
than  anybody  else,  that  the  whole  controversy  is 
based  on  assumptions  that  are  highly  doubtful.  He 
charges  the  deists  with  almost  every  logical  fallacy  ; * 
and  most  of  his  criticisms  are  just.  But  Berkeley 
had  enough  practical  wisdom  to  know  that  the  mere 
refutation  of  deist  arguments  was  not  enough  either 
to  secure  the  historicity  of  Christianity  or  to  supply  an 
adequate  philosophy  of  religion.  In  the  same  spirit 
and  on  the  same  lines  as  Butler,  he  endeavoured  to 
suggest  the  outlines  of  a  philosophy  of  religion. 
Butler's  Analogy  continues  to  be  read,  while  Alci- 
phron  and  Siris  are  not,  because,  whereas  Berkeley's 
suggestions  are  interspersed  with  much  controversial 
matter,  Butler  brought  together  all  his  positive 
arguments  into  one  systematic  whole. 

Berkeley's  own  views  on  religion  are  stated  in  so 
many  different  places,  and  are  so  intricately  involved 
with  the  theories  which  he  is  engaged  in  criticising, 
that  it  is  far  from  easy  to  get  the  gist  of  what  he  has 
to  say  on  the  chief  problems  of  religion.  But  an 
attempt  must  now  be  made  to  state  his  most  im 
portant  positive  tenets.  The  great  problems  which 
he  raises  are  the  existence  of  God,  the  immortality 
of  the  soul,  and  the  meaning  of  faith. 

On  the  first  question  he  vacillates.  But  on  one 
point  he  remains  consistent  throughout :  he  confi- 

therein  "  ;  (ii)  those  who  in  addition  admit  divine  providence 
in  nature  ;  (iii)  those  who  also  allow  moral  perfection  to  God  ; 
and  (iv)  those  who  go  further  and  acknowledge  that  man  has 
duties  towards  God,  and  must  look  forward  to  a  future  state  of 
reward  or  punishment ..."  but  only  so  far  as  'tis  discoverable  by 
the  light  of  nature."  (The  Being  and  Attributes  of  God,  159  ff.) 

1  Cf.  Alciphron,  ii.  357. 


350  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

dently  and  persistently  rejects  the  ontological  proof. 
"  Absurd,"  he  says,  "  to  argue  the  existence  of 
God  from  his  idea."  1  It  is  absurd  because  we  can 
have  no  idea  of  God,  i.e.  we  cannot  perceive  God  by 
sense.  Thus,  it  is  not  strictly  the  argument  that  is 
absurd,  but  the  presupposition  on  which  it  rests. 
//  we  could  have  an  idea  of  God,  this  would  certainly 
guarantee  his  existence  ;  nay,  it  would  be  his  exist 
ence.  Of  God  it  would  be  as  true  as  it  is  of  any  other 
idea  that  esse  is  percipi.  But  we  have,  in  fact,  no 
idea  of  God,  and^from  wlwLt  is/Aoprexistent  nothing 
can  be  inferred. 

But  with  the  traditional  cosmological  and  teleo- 
logical  arguments  for  the  existence  of  God  he  shows 
some  sympathy.  He  points  out  that  it  is  "  repug 
nant  "  that  finite  things  should  subsist  of  themselves. 
In  themselves  they  are  contingent,  and  need  some 
infinite  and  necessary  Ground.  He  also  makes  use 
of  the  teleological  proof,  arguing  to  the  existence  of  a 
perfect  God,  from  the  "  constant  regularity,  order, 
and  concatenation  of  natural  things,  the  surprising 
magnificence,  beauty,  and  perfection  of  the  larger, 
and  the  exquisite  contrivance  of  the  smaller  parts 
of  the  creation,  together  with  the  exact  harmony  and 
correspondence  of  the  whole."  2 

Berkeley  restates  these  proofs  in  terms  of  his  own 
metaphysics.  Ideas  depend  for  their  existence  on 
being  perceived  by  human  beings,  i.e.  spirits.  But 
these  are  finite  spirits,  and  finite  spirits  can  cause 
only  images.  Finite  spirits  cannot  cause  ideas,  and 
they  cannot  cause  other  spirits.  Human  beings 
cannot  be  the  cause  of  other  human  beings.  Hence 

1  Commonplace  Book,  i.  48.     Cf.  i.  51.         2  Principles,  §  146. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  351 

the  existence  of  an  ultimate  cause  is  required  to 
account  for  (a)  the  existence  of  ideas,  and  (6)  the 
existence  of  spirits.  This  ultimate  cause  is  God,  the 
infinite  Spirit.1  To  this  general  line  of  argument 
Berkeley  gives  two  somewhat  different  forms  of 
expression.  In  each  case  the  existence  of  God  is 
an  inference  from  experience  ;  but  at  one  time  he 
considers  that  the  inference  is  made  directly  from 
the  existence  of  ideas,  and  at  another  that  it  involves 
the  middle  term  "  spirits."  In  the  latter  case  he 
argues  that  ideas  presuppose  finite  spirits,  and  finite 
spirits  presuppose  Spirit.2  In  the  former  case, 
"  sensible  things  do  really  exist ;  and,  if  they  really 
exist,  they  are  necessarily  perceived  by  an  infinite 
Mind  ;  therefore  there  is  an  infinite  Mind,  or  God."  3 
The  same  proof  is  expressed  rather  differently  in 
Alciphron.  Berkeley  proves  that  as  our  certainty  of 
the  existence  of  the  soul  is  based,  not  on  immediate 
perception  of  it,  but  on  the  perception  of  certain 
motions  and  actions  which  suggest  it,  so  the  existence 
of  God  is  suggested  or  signified  by  the  harmony  of 
action  and  reaction  in  the  world  as  a  whole.4  Thus 
Berkeley  brings  his  proof  of  the  existence  of  God  into 
connection  with  his  psychological  doctrine  of  per 
ception.5  In  the  Theory  of  Vision  or  Visual  Language 
he  makes  the  relation  perfectly  clear.  The  perma 
nence  of  the  world,  and  the  self-identity  of  things 
and  spirits  depend  on  the  fact  that  they  are  con 
stantly  being  perceived  by  God.  God's  existence, 
then,  may  be  inferred  from  the  permanence  and 
regularity  of  the  world,  of  which  we  are  assured  by 

1  Ibid.  §  146.  2  Ibid.  §  146,  and  Three  Dialogues,  i.  448. 

3  Three  Dialogues,  i.  425.      4  Alciphron.  ii.  160.     5  Ibid.  ii.  174. 


352  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Common  Sense.  Berkeley  may  give  different  ex 
pressions  to  the  proof  of  the  existence  of  God,  but 
he  never  wavers  in  his  belief  in  the  fact.  "  Nothing 
can  be  more  evident  to  anyone  that  is  capable  of  the 
least  reflection  than  the  existence  of  God."  1 

Granted,  then,  that  God  exists,  how  can  we  know 
him,  or  what  sort  of  knowledge  can  we  have  of  him  ? 
In  the  Commonplace  Book  Berkeley  said  that  we 
have  no  idea  of  God,  i.e.  God  is  neither  perceptible 
nor  imaginable.  In  the  Commonplace  Boole  per 
ception  and  imagination  are  the  only  kinds  of  know 
ledge.  But  since  in  the  Commonplace  Book  Berkeley 
had  asserted  his  firm  conviction  that  God  exists,2 
it  was  necessary  for  him  to  discover  some  way  of 
knowledge  by  which  God  might  be  known.  In  the 
Commonplace  Book  he  had  not  discovered  that  way 
of  knowledge,  but  in  the  second  edition  of  the 
Principles  he  suggests  that,  though  we  can  have  no 
ideas  of  spirits,  we  can  and  do  have  notions  of 
spirits.  And  this  notional  knowledge  extends  also 
to  the  Infinite  Spirit.  From  first  to  last  he  insists 
that  we  cannot  know  God  by  sense.  Yet  he  once 
says  that  we  may  have  "  an  image  or  likeness  of  God, 
though,"  he  adds,  "  though  indeed  extremely  inade 
quate."  3  On  the  same  page  he  identifies  our  notional 
knowledge  of  God  with  reflection  or  intuition  or  reason, 
indicating  by  all  these  words  the  difference  of  such 
knowledge  from  sense-perception.  Whatever  pre 
cisely  may  be  the  character  of  notional  knowledge, 
it  is  at  least  direct.  Knowledge  by  notions  is  always 
distinguished  from  indirect  and  representative  know 
ledge  by  signs.  The  only  characteristic  we  can 

1  Principles,  i.  342.         2  i.  51.        3  Three  Dialogues,  i.  448. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  353 

with   safety  ascribe   to   notional    knowledge   is  its 
directness. 

Side  by  side  with  this  theory  of  a  direct  notional 
knowledge  of  God  Berkeley  gives  us,  as  we  have  seen, 
his  doctrine  of  indirect  analogical  knowledge.  He 
was  content  to  leave  these  two  views  unreconciled  ; 
and  all  we  can  say  is  that  this  is  yet  another  instance 
of  the  lack  of  finish  which  is  so  characteristic  of  all 
his  work. 

Berkeley's  attitude  towards  the  problem  of  the 
immortality  of  the  soul  is  closely  similar  to  that 
which  he  adopts  towards  the  existence  of  God.  He 
believes  in  the  existence  of  God,  and  he  believes  in 
the  immortality  of  the  soul.  He  thinks  that  both 
beliefs  can  be  defended  on  his  metaphysical  theory,  ; 
but  in  addition  he  adduces  other  arguments  in  their 
favour.  He  holds  that  the  soul  is  naturally  immortal. 
The  existence  of  the  soul  "  consists  in  perceiving 
ideas  and  thinking."  x  It  might  be  supposed  that 
Berkeley  would  admit  that  sense-perception  at  least 
is  impossible  without  a  body.  But  he  refuses  to 
allow  this.  "  It  is  even  very  possible,"  he  says,  "  to 
apprehend  how  the  soul  may  have  ideas  of  colour 
without  an  eye,  or  of  sounds  without  an  ear."  2  Even 
if  the  sense  organs  were  to  be  annihilated  in  death, 
the  soul  might  still  exist,  and  not  only  think,  but 
perceive  ideas.  Thus,  existence  after  death  differs 
neither  in  kind  nor  in  degree  from  existence  in  the 
flesh.  In  both  cases  existence  essentially  means 
perceiving  ideas  and  thinking.  The  existence  of  the 
body  makes  no  difference  to  the  existence  of  the  soul. 
Immortality  is  perfectly  natural.  So  far  as  our 
1  Principles,  §  139.  *  Letter  to  Johnson,  June  25,  1729, 
P.P,  7, 


354  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

actual  experience  goes,  perception  always  takes  place 
through  sense  organs,  but  there -may  be  "  other  ways 
of  perception,"  l  and  in  any  case  there  is  no  proof  that 
sense  organs  are  essential  to  the  perception  of  ideas. 
On  this  basis — the  impossibility  of  disproof — Berke 
ley  rests  the  assertion  that  the  soul  is  necessarily 
and  naturally  immortal,  i.e.  is  a  necessarily  and 
eternally  percipient  being. 

But  in  addition  to  this  proof,  based  on  his  own 
metaphysical  doctrine,  Berkeley  uses  traditional  argu 
ments  to  confirm  belief  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul. 
Like  Clarke,  he  maintains  that  the  soul  is  "  indivis 
ible,  incorporeal,  unextended,"  and  consequently,  by 
a  traditional  argument,  is  indissoluble  and  incorrupt 
ible.2  Like  Butler,  he  insists  on  the  separateness  of 
the  soul  from  the  body,  and  argues  that,  since  it  is 
isolated  and  impervious,  it  is  not  affected  by  the 
dissolution  of  the  body.  He  also  mentions  with 
approval  a  teleological  argument  (Man  would  not 
have  been  created  with  such  infinite  capacities  and 
desires,  did  he  not  have  eternity  in  which  to  realize 
and  satisfy  them),  and  an  ethical  argument  (Inequal 
ity  and  injustice  in  this  life  point  to  a  future  existence 
in  which  they  will  be  redressed),  with  both  of  which 
the  belief  in  immortality  may  be  buttressed.3  And 
he  even  finds  some  satisfaction  in  referring,  for  con 
firmation  of  "  this  comfortable  truth,"  to  the  in 
stinctive  beliefs  of  Common  Sense,  the  opinions  of 
the  Pythagoreans  and  the  Greek  mythologists,  and 
supernatural  revelation  as  vouchsafed  to  Christ  and 
Mohammed.4 

1  Essays  in  the  "  Guardian,"  iv.  146.        2  Principles,  §  141. 
8  Essays  in  the  "  Guardian,"  iv.  143-147.        *  Ibid.  iv.  184. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  355 

But  these  arguments  are  only  auxiliary.  Berke 
ley's  real  proof  is  that  which  is  based  on  his  own 
metaphysical  system.  The  soul  is,  in  its  very  nature, 
immortal.  There  is  no  dualism  between  the  present 
life  and  eternal  life,  for  time  and  eternity  are  relative 
distinctions  within  a  wider  whole.  The  soul  is 
essentially  existent.  Within  its  existence  it  includes 
the  moments  of  past  existence  and  future  existence, 
and  neither  its  past  nor  its  future  are  bounded  by 
what  we  call  birth  and  death.1 

In  spite  of  Berkeley's  claim  that  the  two  great 
religious  beliefs  are  capable  of  proof,  he  admits,  nay 
asserts,  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  religious  faith, 
distinct  at  once  from  opinion  and  knowledge.  It  is 
unfortunate  that  Berkeley  does  not  make  clear  the 
differentia  of  faith.  Still,  it  is  possible  to  gather  from 
Alciphron  the  outlines  of  his  view.  It  is  plain,  in  the 
first  place,  that  faith  is  not  sense-knowledge.  Nor  is 
it  notional  knowledge.  Now  for  Berkeley  all  know 
ledge  is  either  sense-knowledge  (which  includes 
imagination)  or  notional  knowledge.  Thus  faith, 
being  neither  sense-knowledge  nor  notional  know 
ledge,  is  not  strictly  knowledge  at  all. 

Faith  differs  from  sense -knowledge  in  three 
respects.  (1)  Faith  is  only  probable  :  "Knowledge, 
I  grant,  in  a  strict  sense,  cannot  be  had  without 
evidence  or  demonstration  :  but  probable  arguments 
are  a  sufficient  ground  of  faith."  2  Religious  faith  is  a 
type  of  assent.  The  religious  consciousness  does  not 

1  The  Revelation  of  Life  and  Immortality  (a  sermon  preached  in 
Trinity  College),  simply  takes  for  granted  the  immortality  of 
the  soul  as  a  revealed  truth. 

2  Alciphron,  ii.  311. 


356  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

demand  scientifically  rigorous  proofs.  It  is  satisfied 
with  faith,  which  may  "  consist  with  some  degree  of 
obscurity,  scruple,  and  error."  l  (2)  Faith  differs 
from  sense-knowledge  also  inasmuch  as  it  involves 
no  ideas.  The  attitude  of  faith  is  possible,  "  although 
his  understanding  may  not  be  furnished  with  those 
abstract,  precise,  distinct  ideas."  2  Faith  assures  us 
of  the  reality  of  things  of  which  we  have  no  ideas. 
(3)  Faith  is  active  and  practical.  "  Faith  is  not  an 
indolent  perception,  but  an  operative  persuasion  of 
mind,  which  ever  worketh  some  suitable  action, 
disposition,  or  emotion  in  those  who  have  it."  3 

Faith  differs  also  from  notional  knowledge,  but 
only  in  respect  of  the  first  and  third  points  above- 
mentioned.  Unlike  faith,  notional  knowledge  is  both 
theoretical  and  demonstrable,  though  the  kind  of 
demonstration  of  which  it  admits  is  different  from 
that  of  sense-knowledge.  But  notional  knowledge 
is  like  faith  in  dispensing  with  ideas.  Thus  the 
ultimate  differentia  of  faith  is  its  practical  nature  and 
the  fact  that  it  is  based  on  probable  arguments. 

Berkeley  illustrates  his  conception  of  faith  by 
examples.  We  have  faith  in  such  doctrines  as  Grace 
and  Original  Sin,  (i)  though  they  cannot  be  rigorously 
demonstrated,  and  (ii)  though  we  can  have  no  idea  of 
them,  because  (iii)  they  are  beliefs  which  have  a 
"  practically  efficacious "  influence  on  life.  But 
faith  is  not  an  isolated  phenomenon,  confined  to  the 
realm  of  religion.  Faith  is  involved  also  in  the 
special  sciences.  We  have  no  demonstrative  know 
ledge  by  way  of  ideas  of  "  force  "  or  "  number." 
Mechanics  and  arithmetic  alike  are  based  on  faith  : 

1  Alciphron,  ii.  311.  2  Ibid,  ii,  335.  3  Ibid.  ii.  337-8. 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  357 

we  give  practical  assent  to  the  "  efficacy  "  of  the  con 
ceptions  which  they  employ.  Thus,  we  may  say  that 
the  existence  of  "  force  "  or  "  number,"  like  that  of 
the  data  of  religion,  is  not  percipi  but  credi.  Their 
existence  consists  in  being  believed  in,  or  practically 
assented  to. 

Now,  it  is,  of  course,  evident  that  we  may  be 
mistaken  in  our  beliefs.  Those  religious  beliefs 
which  Berkeley  calls  fantastic  superstitions  are 
held  by  some  people,  but  that  does  not  guarantee 
their  truth.  In  view  of  this,  can  we  still  maintain 
that  the  esse  of  the  facts  of  religion  is  credi  ? 

To  this  query  Berkeley  would  reply  that  the  pro 
position  esse  is  credi  is  in  precisely  the  same  position, 
with  regard  to  its  validity,  as  esse  is  percipi.  When 
we  say  that  the  existence  of  a  thing  consists  in  being 
perceived,  we  do  not  forget  that  some  things  which  do 
not  really  exist  may  be  perceived  or  imaged  in  dreams 
or  hallucinations.  The  mere  fact  that  a  thing  is 
perceived  in  a  dream  or  hallucination  does  not 
guarantee  its  real  existence.  Thus,  in  order  to  guard 
our  proposition  from  misinterpretation,  we  should 
have  to  formulate  certain  conditions  under  which  it 
is  true.  And,  in  general,  we  may  say  that  esse  is 
percipi,  provided  the  particular  perception  agrees 
with  the  system  of  the  rest  of  our  perceptions  and 
with  what  we  take  to  be  the  systems  of  other  people's 
perceptions.  If  it  does  not  readily  find  a  place 
within  the  system  of  experience,  it  should  be  looked 
upon  with  suspicion.  It  may,  indeed,  turn  out  in 
the  long  run  that  the  single  perception  is  true,  and  the 
rest  of  our  perceptions  are  false  ;  but,  as  a  general 
principle,  the  presumption  is  in  favour  of  the  system 


358  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

and  against  the  particular  exception.  It  is  only 
under  such  conditions  as  these  that  we  are  entitled 
to  say  that  the  proposition  esse  is  per  dpi  is  valid. 

And  the  case  of  esse  is  credi  is  precisely  similar. 
The  mere  fact  that  a  belief  is  held  by  one  man  or  by 
a  group  of  men  does  not  necessarily  guarantee  its 
religious  truth.  For  the  belief  may  be  a  "  fantastic 
superstition."  Such  a  belief  is  on  exactly  the  same 
level  as  the  perception  of  the  man  or  group  of  men 
who  are  subject  to  an  hallucination.  Hence  it 
follows  that  the  proposition  esse  is  credi  is  true  onty 
under  certain  conditions.  And  the  conditions  which 
it  implies  are  very  similar  to  those  that  determine  the 
validity  of  the  other  proposition.  A  belief,  we  may 
say,  is  valid  and  valuable  if  it  conforms  to  the  system 
of  beliefs  held  by  the  wisest  and  best  men  of  the  time. 
If  a  new  belief  suggests  itself  to  some  particular  man, 
which  contradicts  not  only  the  system  of  his  beliefs 
but  also  the  systems  of  his  neighbours,  it  may  turn 
out  to  be  true,  the  previous  systems  being,  in  reality, 
false,  but  the  presumption,  under  such  circumstances, 
must  always  be  against  its  truth.  We  conclude, 
then,  that  the  essential  attitude  of  religion  is  one  of 
faith  ;  and  that,  under  certain  general  conditions,  the 
fact  that  a  religious  belief  actually  is  held  guarantees 
its  value  and  validity. 

To  sum  up,  we  find  that  in  religion  as  in  theory  of 
knowledge  Berkeley,  starting  with  isolated  partic 
ulars,  is  forced  in  the  end  to  assume  the  conception 
of  system  in  order  to  justify  these  particular  beliefs. 
While,  in  exceptional  cases,  a  particular  belief  may  be 
true  against  a  system  of  beliefs,  the  general  rule  is 
that  it  is  confirmed  as  a  valid  and  valuable  belief  only 


PHILOSOPHY  OF  RELIGION  359 

because  it  is  not  an  isolated  particular  but  is  a 
member  of  a  system.  Thus,  in  the  theory  of  religion, 
as  in  every  other  department  of  philosophy,  Berkeley 
is  driven  by  the  inner  logic  of  his  thought  to  abandon 
his  early  particularism  in  favour  of  a  conception  of 
life  based  on  organic  system. 


APPENDIX  I 

BERKELEY'S  RELATION  TO  COLLIER 

THE  general  resemblance  of  the  Berkeleian  theory 
to  that  stated  by  Arthur  Collier  in  his  Clavis  Uni- 
versalis,  which  was  published  in  1713,  gives  rise  to 
some  interesting  and  important  historical  questions 
which  will  be  examined  in  this  appendix.  I  shall 
first  mention  briefly,  what  is  known  of  Collier,  and 
then  consider  whether  his  work  was  influenced  in  any 
way  by  Berkeley. 

Clavis  Universalis  is  not,  in  itself,  any  more  re 
markable  than  many  other  English  philosophical 
tracts  published  about  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  which  attracted  little  or  no  attention  when 
they  originally  appeared  and  which  have  been  per 
sistently  neglected  by  succeeding  generations.  Such 
rare  treatises  as  Richard  Burthogge's  Essay  upon 
Reason  and  the  Nature  of  Spirits,  1694,  John  Ser 
geant's  Solid  Philosophy,  1696,  and  John  Norris's 
Essay  towards  the  Theory  of  the  Ideal  or  Intelligible 
World,  1701-4,  may  be  specially  mentioned.  In 
themselves  these  works  are  quite  as  interesting  and 
important  as  Collier's  book ;  but  to  the  English 
student  of  philosophy  they  are  very  little  known,  and 
no  effort  seems  to  have  been  made  to  reprint  them. 

360 


361 

And  it  is  safe  to  say  that  Clavis  Universalis  would 
have  remained  in  as  great  obscurity  as  these  and 
many  others  had  it  not  been  for  the  coincidence  that 
it  contains  a  theory  strangely  similar  to  that  of 
Berkeley,  whose  Principles  appeared  three  years 
before  it.  The  modicum  of  attention  that  Collier  has 
received  has  been  due  to  this  interesting  coincidence, 
if  coincidence  it  be. 

For  a  hundred  years  after  his  death  Collier  re 
mained,  in  Britain,  at  least,  in  almost  complete 
oblivion.1  He  was  forgotten  in  the  parish  of  which 
he  had  been  hereditary  rector,  and  in  an  elaborate 
catalogue  of  the  authors  of  Wiltshire,  in  which  he  was 
born  and  bred  and  lived  and  died,  his  name  does  not 
appear  at  all.  But  one  day  Thomas  Reid  chanced  on 
a  copy  of  Clavis  in  the  Glasgow  University  Library, 
and  gave  a  brief  account  of  it  in  his  Essays  on  the 
Intellectual  Powers  of  Man.2  He  cannot  have  read 
the  book  very  carefully,  however,  for  he  says  that 
Collier's  arguments  are  the  same  in  essence  as  Berke 
ley's  ;  and  this  is,  in  fact,  far  from  being  the  case. 
Reid's  notice  brought  Clavis  to  the  attention  of 
Dugald  Stewart,  who  devoted  a  note  to  its  author 
in  his  Dissertation  on  the  History  of  Metaphysical 
Science,3  in  which  he  praised  the  book  with  more 
enthusiasm  than  discrimination.  "  When  compared 
with  the  writings  of  Berkeley  himself,"  he  says,  "  it 
yields  to  them  less  in  force  of  argument  than  in  com 
position  and  variety  of  illustration."  Stewart  refers 

1  He  is  referred  to  in  Grub  Street  Journal,  cvii.,  and  in  Corry'a 
Reflections  on  Liberty  and  Necessity,  1761. 

2  Essay,  ii.  chap.  10. 

3  Hamilton's  edition,  vol.  i.  p.  349. 


362  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

also  to  its  "  logical  closeness  and  precision " — 
qualities  which,  in  reality,  it  decidedly  lacks.  These 
and  other  references  roused,  at  about  the  same  time, 
the  interest  of  Dr.  Parr,  and  of  an  Edinburgh  literary 
society,  and  the  result  was  the  almost  simultaneous 
publication  of  Clams  by  the  Edinburgh  society  in 
1836,  and  in  Metaphysical  Tracts  by  English  Philo 
sophers  of  the  Eighteenth  Century  in  1837.  In  1837 
also  appeared  Memoirs  of  the  Life  and  Writings  of  the 
Rev.  Arthur  Collier,  by  Robert  Benson,  who  was  a 
descendant  of  Collier's  sister,  and  possessed  a  quan 
tity  of  Collier's  unpublished  manuscripts.  A  notice 
of  the  last  two  volumes  was  written  in  the  Edinburgh 
Review  in  1839  by  Sir  William  Hamilton.  But 
after  this  Collier's  work  again  relapsed  into  ob 
scurity.  1 

In  Germany  Collier  has  attracted  more  attention. 
In  1717  a  careful  abstract  of  Clavis  was  printed  in  the 
Acta  Eruditorum.2  This  abstract  runs  to  only  5^ 
pages,  but  it  is  so  good  that  many  Continental  philo 
sophers  were  probably  content  to  take  their  know 
ledge  of  Collier's  views  entirely  from  it.  There  is,  at 
least,  no  doubt  that  the  book  itself  became  very  rare 
in  Germany,  and  when  Bulffinger  refers  to  it  in  his 
interesting  Dilucidationes  Philosophicae  de  Deo, 
Anima  Humana,  Mundo  et  Generalibus  Rerum 
Affectionibus,  1746,  his  exact  references  are  always  to 

1  Collier  receives  some  attention  in  G.  Lyon,  L'Idealisme  en 
Angleterre,  pp.  241-293  ;    R.  Blakey,  History  of  the  Philosophy  of 
Mind  ;   W.  R.  Sorley  in  the  Cambridge  History  of  English  Litera 
ture,  ix.  287  ;  A.  C.  Fraser,  Works  of  Berkeley,  iii.  384  ;  and  in  the 
Dictionary  of  National  Biography.     A  reprint  of  Clavis  has  been 
issued  by  the  Open  Court  Publishing  Company. 

2  Supplementary  volume,  vi.  244. 


BERKELEY'S  RELATION  TO  COLLIER    363 

the  abstract  in  Ada  Eruditorum1  and  never  to  Claws 

itself,  which  suggests  that  he  did  not  have  access  to 

the  book  itself.     Bulfnnger  introduces  Collier  as  one 

of  the  protagonists  of  Idealism.     "  Mundum  visi- 

bilem  non  esse  externum  prolixe  contendit ;  tamen 

ad    argumentum    quod    tactus    demonstret    extra- 

existentiam  corporum  respondere  id  non  contra  se, 

quoniam  de  visibili  mundo  quaerat  non  de  tangi- 

bili."2     He  also  suggests  that  Christian  Wolff  refers 

to  Collier  in  one  of  his  writings  on  the  relation  of 

Idealism  and  Orthodoxy.     "  Puto  ilium  (i.e.  Wolff) 

intendere  digitum  ad  Arthurum  Collierium,  de  quo 

ex  Actis  Lips,  notum  est,  ilium  vel  theologica  ex 

idealismo  suo  corollaria  v.g.  adversus  transubstan- 

tiationem  intulisse  manentibus  enim  speciebus  nihil 

immutatum   esse   contendit."3     The  fact   that   the 

reference  here  is  to  Acta  Eruditorum  and  not  to  Claris 

would  again  seem  to  indicate  that  Collier's  book  was 

not  known  to  Bulffinger,  for  the  view  referred  to  is 

quite  definitely  stated  in  Claris.     "  So  that  if  these 

(i.e.  the  sensible  species  of  bodies)  are  supposed  to 

remain  as  before,  there  is  no  possible  room  for  the 

supposal  of  any  change."     The  argument  is  that  if 

a  thing  is  nothing  but  the  secondary  qualities,  then 

so  long  as  the  secondary  qualities  remain  unchanged 

1  At  the  end  of  this  abstract  the  writer  puts  the  relation  of 
Collier    and    Berkeley    very    tersely.      "  Haec    sunt    paradoxa 
autoris  nostri  qxiae  procul  dubio  non  maiori  plausu  excipientur 
quam  ilia  quae  in  eandem  sententiam,  aliis  tamen  argumentis, 
conterraneus  eius  Georgius  Berkeley  .  .  .  defendere  conatus  est.' 
(Op.  cit.,  Supp.,  vol.  vi.  p.  249.) 

2  Dilucidationes  Philosophicae,  §  115. 

3  Op.  cit.   §  118.     Immutatum  is  an  error  for  mutatum.     Acta 
Lips,  i.e.  Acta  Eruditorum  quae  TApsiae  publicantur. 


364  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

no  change  can  have  taken  place  in  the  thing,  and 
transubstantiation  is  therefore  impossible. 

Clavis  was  translated  into  German  by  Professor 
Eschenbach  of  Rostock  in  1756.  Together  with 
Berkeley's  Three  Dialogues  it  forms  the  Samlung  der 
vornehmsten  Schriftsteller  die  die  Wuerklichkeit  ihres 
eignenKoerpers  und  der  ganzen  Koerperwelt  laeugnen.^ 
Appreciative  accounts  of  Collier  are  to  be  found  in  the 
chief  German  histories  of  philosophy,  e.g.  Tennemann, 
Geschichte  der  Philosophie,  x.  398-404,  Ueberweg, 
Geschichte  der  Philosophie,  ii.  121,  Erdmann,  Grund- 
riss  der  Geschichte  der  Philosophie,  ii.  291,  Ernst 
Cassirer,  Das  JErkenntnisproblem,  ii.  327,  and  Erich 
Cassirer,  BerJceleys  System,  p.  162. 

Of  Collier's  life  little  is  known,  and  that  little  is  not 
particularly  interesting.  He  was  born  in  1680,  the 
son  of  Arthur  Collier,  rector  of  Langford  Magna, 
near  Salisbury.  Schooled  at  Winchester,  he  entered 
Pembroke  College,  Oxford,  in  1697,  and  removed  next 
year  to  Balliol.  He  took  orders,  and  in  1704  was 
presented  to  Langford  Magna,  of  which  the  advowson 
belonged  to  the  family.  He  lived  all  his  life  in  the 
parish,  and  died  in  1732. 

Clavis  Universalis  is  the  only  book  by  which 
Collier  deserves  to  be  remembered.  But  he  also 
published,  in  addition  to  a  couple  of  controversial 
sermons,  A  Specimen  of  True  Philosophy,  1730, 

1  The  spelling  of  the  original  is  retained.  As  evidence  of  the 
rarity  of  Clavis  in  Germany,  a  sentence  or  two  may  be  quoted 
from  Eschenbach's  preface.  "  If  ever  any  book  involved  trouble 
in  obtaining  it,  Clavis  Universalis  is  that  book.  At  first  all  my 
attempts  to  get  it  were  in  vain.  At  last  a  worthy  friend,  Herr 
J.  Selck,  sent  me  the  work  after  I  had  given  up  all  hope  that  I 
should  ever  be  able  to  procure  it." 


BERKELEY'S  RELATION  TO  COLLIER    365 

and  Logology,  1732.  These  treatises,  which  are 
reprinted  in  Parr's  Metaphysical  Tracts,  are  theo 
logical  rather  than  philosophical,  and  may  be  passed 
over  in  silence. 

Collier's  chief  claim  on  the  interest  of  the  philo 
sophical  student  arises  out  of  the  similarity  of  his 
theory  to  that  of  Berkeley.  That  resemblance  gives 
rise  to  certain  problems  which  have  never  been 
faced,  and  it  seems  worth  while  to  examine  them. 

It  has  always  been  assumed  that  Collier  is  quite 
independent  of  Berkeley,  and  that  he  did  not  know  of 
Berkeley's  Theory  of  Vision  or  Principles  before  the 
publication  of  his  own  book.     But  it  is  difficult  to  see 
any  ground  for  this  assumption.     Collier  mentions 
Berkeley  twice  in  letters  written  shortly  after  the 
publication  of  Clavis,  and  in  neither  case  does  he 
assert  that  his  work  is  independent  of  Berkeley,  or 
deny  that  he  had  seen  Berkeley's  Principles.     In  a 
letter  written  to  Solomon  Low,  on  March  8,  1714,  he 
says,  "  He  [i.e.  a  certain  Mr.  Balch  who  had  criticised 
Collier]  cannot  show  another  in  the  world,  besides  Mr. 
Berkeley  and  myself,  who  hold  the  testimony  of  sense 
to  be  infallible  as  to  this  point  "  [i.e.  the  existence  of 
visible   objects].      Writing   to    Samuel    Clarke    on 
February,  14,  1715,  he  says,  "  I  could  almost  dare  to 
put  the  whole  question  upon  trial  whether  you,  or 
any  man  else,  ever  so  much  as  heard  of  either  of  them 
before  [i.e.  the  theories  that  the  visible  world  is  not 
external,  but  is  dependent  on  mind  or  soul ;  and  that 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  matter]  ;  I  mean  before  Mr. 
Berkeley's  book  on  the  same  subject,  which  was 
published  a  small  time  before  mine."     It  is  certainly 
strange,  if  Collier  had  seen  Berkeley's  books,  that  he 


366  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

does  not  refer  to  him  in  his  Introduction.  On  the 
other  hand,  Collier  does  not  claim  originality.  At 
first  sight,  indeed,  there  are  two  sentences  in  the 
Introduction  which  seem  to  claim  originality  for  his 
work.  He  says  that  he  has  decided  to  publish  his 
work,  "  rather  than  the  world  should  finish  its  course, 
without  once  offering  to  enquire  in  what  manner  it 
exists."  But  this  is  simply  a  rhetorical  nourish. 
Collier  knew  something  of  the  history  of  philosophy, 
and  he  therefore  knew  that  philosophy  is  simply  an 
enquiry  into  the  manner  of  the  existence  of  the  world. 
Again,  he  speaks  of  the  "  ten  years'  pause  and 
deliberation,"  after  which  he  had  decided  to  bring 
his  views  to  the  notice  of  the  public.  But  he  could 
have  said  this,  even  if  he  had  seen  Berkeley's  Prin 
ciples  before  the  publication  of  his  own  work.  The 
view  of  the  relationship  which  I  should  like  to  suggest 
is  that  Collier  had  for  a  considerable  time  been 
reflecting  and  writing  desultorily  on  the  non-existence 
of  the  external  world,  and  that  when  Berkeley's  books 
appeared  he  was  encouraged  to  publish  his  views.1 
There  is  support  for  this  theory,  both  on  internal 
and  external  evidence. 

1  Collier  makes  a  false  statement  with  regard  to  Berkeley 
in  A  Specimen  of  True  Philosophy,  where  he  says  of  Clavis  Uni- 
ver sails,  "  This  work  is,  with  the  exception  of  a  passage  or  two 
in  the  Three  Dialogues  of  Dr.  Berkeley,  printed  in  the  same  year, 
the  only  book  on  the  subject  of  which  I  have  ever  heard  "  (p.  114). 
This  statement  may  be  disproved  out  of  Collier's  own  mouth. 
In  the  letter  to  Low,  referred  to  above,  he  mentions,  "  Mr. 
Berkeley's  book  on  the  same  subject,  which  was  published  a 
small  time  before  mine."  Now  this  must  refer  to  the  Principles, 
for  the  Three  Dialogues  was  published  after  Clavis  Universalis. 
Again,  in  the  preface  to  the  Three  Dialogues  Berkeley  himself 
mentions  the  Principles  ;  and  therefore,  as  Collier  had  read  the 
Three  Dialogues,  he  must  "  have  heard  of  "  the  Principles. 


BERKELEY'S  RELATION  TO  COLLIER    367 

We  must  first  examine  two  arguments  which  have 
been   advanced  for   the   absolute   independence   of 

Collier. 

(1)  It  has  been  held  that  the  concurrent  publica 
tion  of  the  two  similar  theories  is  a  pure  coincidence. 
This  view  is  usually  simply  accepted  without  ques 
tion.    Now  a  purely  fortuitous  coincidence  is  always 
possible,  and,  qua  coincidence,  it  admits  of  no  expla 
nation.     And  it  is  not  prima  facie  strange  that  two 
men  should  independently  deny  the  existence  of  the 
external  world.     It  is  indeed  remarkable  that  the 
Berkeleian  view  should  have  cropped  up  so  rarely. 
The  view  is  a  very  natural  one  for  a  man  who  is  just 
beginning  to  think  for  himself  to  land  in.     It  is 
perfectly  possible  that  both  Berkeley  and  Collier  hit 
upon  the  same  theory  Oela  TLV\  TV-^U. 

(2)  But  it  is  more  probable  that  there  is  some 
common  source  of  their  views.     This  is  suggested  by 
Campbell  Fraser.     "  The  agreement  may  be  referred 
to  the  common  philosophical  point  of  view  at  the 
time."  x     "  The  intellectual  atmosphere  of  the  Lock- 
ian  epoch  in  England  contained  elements  favourable 
to  such  a  result."  2     Let  us  examine  this  suggestion. 
In  the  first  place,  the  early  philosophical  environ 
ments  of  the  two  men  were  as  different  as  possible. 
Berkeley  was  educated  at  Dublin,  Collier  at  Oxford. 
Berkeley's  earlier  interests  were   chiefly  mathema 
tical,  while  Collier's  were  classical.     And  the  philo 
sophers  who  chiefly  influenced  them  were,  with  one 
exception,  different.     It  is  possible  to  reconstruct  the 
earlier  philosophical  development  of  the  two  thinkers 
with  some  exactitude,  because  Berkeley's  Common- 

i  Life  and  Letters  of  Berkeley,  p.  62.      2  Works  of  Berkeley,  i.  253. 


368  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

place  Book  gives  a  good  idea  of  what  he  was  reading 
and  thinking  between  1705  and  1708  ;  and  in  the  case 
of  Collier,  the  manuscripts  dated  from  1703  onwards 
enable  us  to  measure  the  forces  which  played  upon 
him. 

Collier  was  influenced  chiefly  by  Norris.  Both  by 
conversation  and  by  his  books  Norris  affected  the 
trend  of  Collier's  thought.  When  Collier  mentions 
Norris,  he  uses  terms  of  exaggerated  veneration, 
though  he  does  not  follow  him  blindly.  It  is  because 
of  the  greatness  of  his  esteem  for  "  the  great  and 
excellent  Mr.  Norris  "  that  he  never  criticises  him 
directly,  but  when  he  is  forced  to  differ  from  him 
always  mentions  his  views  in  the  form  of  an  objection 
to  his  own,  "  that  I  may  seem  rather  to  defend  myself 
than  voluntarily  oppose  this  author."1  Collier's 
central  thought — the  non-existence  of  the  external 
world — is  certainly  not  due  to  Norris.  Norris 
definitely  considers  the  question,  and  concludes  that 
it  is  arrant  scepticism  to  doubt  its  existence.2  And 
Norris  is  no  sceptic.  But  the  general  form  of  the 
exposition  of  Collier's  theory  shows  the  influence  of 
Norris,  and  Collier  readily  admits  this.  Collier  also 
admits  the  influence  of  Malebranche.  On  the  ques 
tion  of  the  existence  of  the  external  world,  Male 
branche  and  Norris  are  in  agreement,  but  Collier 
acutely  points  out  that  Malebranche 's  purely  philo 
sophical  arguments  do  not  entitle  him  to  assert  its 
existence.  In  the  last  resort,  Malebranche  founds 
the  existence  of  the  external  world  on  the  authority 
of  Scripture.  Now,  Collier  suggests  that  Scripture 
does  not  really  bear  him  out,3  and  he  argues  that  if 

1  Clams,  p.  123,,         2  Ideal  World,  i.  iv.         3  Clams,  p.  114. 


BERKELEY'S  RELATION  TO  COLLIER    369 

Malebranche  were  only  consistent,  and  remained 
throughout  on  the  strictly  philosophical  level,  he 
would  be  forced  to  the  same  conclusion  as  Collier 
himself.  Collier  is  anxious  to  emphasise  his  agree 
ment  with  Norris  and  Malebranche. 

On  the  other  hand,  Berkeley  denies,  even  violently, 
that  he  has  been  influenced  by  them,  or  is  in  any  way 
in  agreement  with  them.  Thus  he  writes  to  Percival, 
"  As  to  what  is  said  of  ranking  me  with  Father  Male 
branche  and  Mr.  Norris,  whose  writings  are  thought 
too  fine-spun  to  be  of  any  great  use  to  mankind,  I 
have  this  to  answer  :  that  I  think  the  notions  I 
embrace  are  not  in  the  least  coincident  with,  or  agree- 

O 

ing  with  theirs,  but  indeed  plainly  inconsistent  with 
them  in  the  main  points,  insomuch  that  I  know  few 
writers  whom  I  take  myself  at  bottom  to  differ  more 
from  than  them."  So  far  as  his  attitude  to  Norris  is 
concerned,  this  disclaimer  is  fully  justified.  In  his 
writings  he  does  not  mention  Norris  once,  his  works 
do  not  show  any  sign  of  influence,  and  apart  from 
this  reference  in  a  letter  there  is  no  evidence  that  he 
ever  read  him.  But  with  Malebranche  it  is  different. 
Berkeley  certainly  knew  his  works  well,  refers  to  him 
frequently  in  the  Commonplace  Book  (pp.  9,  24,  38, 
50,  51,  76,  78,  81),  and  went  to  see  him  in  Paris.1 

1In  a  letter  to  Prior  (November  25,  1713)  Berkeley  says, 
"  Tomorrow  I  intend  to  visit  Father  Malebranche,  and  discourse 
him  on  certain  points."  The  Abbe  d'Aubigne  was  to  introduce 
him,  as  he  informs  Percival  in  a  letter  written  on  November  24, 
1713.  Unfortunately  Berkeley  says  nothing  further  of  this  visit. 
This  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  interview  which  Berkeley 
is  said  to  have  had  with  Malebranche  two  years  later,  when  he 
became  the  "occasional  cause"  of  his  death.  This  story,  an 
amusing  version  of  which  is  given  by  De  Quincey  in  Murder 
considered  as  one  of  the  Fine  Arts,  appeared  probable  to  Dugald 
B.P.  2  A 


370  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

There  is  no  doubt  at  all,  as  we  have  seen  in  an  earlier 
chapter,  that  Berkeley  was  influenced  by  Male- 
branche,  though  this  was  probably  more  by  repulsion 
than  by  attraction.  In  the  Commonplace  Book  he 
criticises  Malebranche  with  regard  to  his  views  on 
divine  agency  and  the  existence  of  the  external  world. 
The  French  Father  maintained  that  our  belief  in  an 
external  world  is  grounded  on  our  inclination  to 
believe  in  its  existence,  and  on  the  Scriptural  warrant 
for  it.1  The  former  ground  is  obviously  unsatis 
factory,  and  ultimately  Malebranche  is  reduced  to 
the  latter.  But  Berkeley  points  out  that  this  is,  as  a 
philosophical  argument,  no  better  than  the  other. 
And  Berkeley  also  differs  from  Malebranche  with 
regard  to  causation.  For  Malebranche  all  causation, 

O 

human  as  well  as  natural,  is  divine.2  Berkeley, 
less  consistently,  refers  natural  causation  to  divine 
power,  but  reserves  human  agency  to  man's  will. 
"  We  move  our  legs  ourselves,"  he  says,  "  it  is  we  that 
will  their  movement.  Herein  I  differ  from  Male 
branche."  3  But,  on  the  whole,  as  we  have  seen, 
Berkeley's  general  view  of  causation  is  simply  a 
modified  version  of  Malebranche's.  In  fact,  had  the 
Frenchman  not  been  anxious  to  maintain  his  ecclesi 
astical  orthodoxy  he  might  well  have  anticipated 
Berkeley  in  his  most  notable  innovations.  Male 
branche  had  a  real  influence  both  on  Berkeley  and  on 
Collier. 

Stewart  (Works,  i.  161),  and  even  to  Sir  William  Hamilton 
(Discussions,  p.  198),  but,  as  is  shown  by  the  Berkeley-Percival 
correspondence,  it  is  certainly  fictitious. 

1  Entretiens  sur  la  mdtaphysique,  vi.  §  8. 

*  Meditations  Chr&icnnes,  v.  54. 

3  Commonplace  Book,  i.  24,  cf.  i.  55. 


BERKELEY'S  RELATION  TO  COLLIER    371 

But  no  other  thinker  exercised  an  influence  on  both 
men.  Locke's  influence  on  Berkeley  was  so  great 
that,  as  we  have  seen,  had  there  been  no  Locke  there 
would  have  been  no  Berkeley.  But  there  would 
certainly  have  been  a  Collier.  Not  only  does  Collier 
never  mention  Locke,  but  his  books  do  not  breathe 
the  Lockian  atmosphere.  It  was  certainly  not  the 
influence  of  Locke  that  was  responsible  for  the  con 
current  development  of  the  two  theories.  But  on 
Collier  the  scholastic  philosophy  had  a  great  influence 
and  he  never  frees  himself  from  Scholastic  termin 
ology.1  On  the  other  hand,  Scholasticism  had 
hardly  any  effect  on  the  formation  of  Berkeley's 
philosophy. 

On  the  whole,  then,  the  philosophical  influences 
which  played  upon  Berkeley  and  Collier  were  very 
different,  and  it  seems  impossible  to  maintain  that 
there  was  any  really  common  source  of  their 
theories.  And,  indeed,  that  Berkeley  and  Collier 
should  both  have  hit  on  the  same  doctrine  is  not  at 
all  surprising.  What  is  surprising  is  that  it  had  not 
been  suggested  long  before.  The  philosophical 
groundwork  and  premises  of  the  Berkeley-Collier 
theory  are  to  be  found  in  the  speculations  of  the 
Schoolmen.  That  the  Schoolmen  produced  no 
system  akin,  in  its  conclusions,  to  Berkeley's  Idealism 
was  due  to  (1)  their  physiology,  and  (2)  their  theology. 
In  the  schools  a  question  frequently  proposed  for 
determination  was,  "  Whether  God  may  not  maintain 

1  The  first  nine  chapters  of  Part  II.  of  Clavis  are  almost  entirely 
on  the  Scholastic  level.  Collier  seems  to  have  been  acquainted 
with  Scholasticism  mainly  through  the  manuals  of  Baronius  and 
Scheiblerus.  He  mentions  Suarez  once  (Clavis,  p.  42). 


372  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

the  species 1  before  the  mind,  the  eternal  reality 
being  destroyed  ?  "  or,  "  Whether  God  may  not 
bring  before  the  senses  the  species  representing  an 
external  world,  though  the  external  world  in  reality 
does  not  exist  ?  "  On  purely  philosophical  grounds 
the  weight  of  opinion  is  in  favour  of  an  affirmative 
answer.  But  the  physiological  and  theological 
presuppositions  of  the  schools  proved  too  strong  to 
allow  of  its  being  elevated  to  the  rank  of  "  probable  " 
doctrine. 

(1)  The  Schoolmen,  following  Aristotle,  held  that 
the  physiological  conditions  of  sense-perception  were 
such  as  to  make  all  sense-perception  impossible  apart 
from  external  material  reality.     In  visual  perception 
material  things  were  supposed  to  give  rise  to  certain 
images.     These  impinge  upon  the  active  intellect, 
which  spiritualises  them  into  ideas,  and  hands  them 
over  to  the  passive  intellect,  which  perceives  them  ; 
and  as  nihil  est  in  intellectu  quod  non  prius  fuerit  in 
sensu,  no  knowledge  at  all  is  possible  apart  from  an 
external  world.     But  when  the  physiological  revolu 
tion,  with  which  Descartes  had  much  to  do,  took 
place,  the  supposed  necessity  of  the  external  world 
for  sense-perception  was  removed.     It  is  noticeable 
that  Malebranche  does  not  use  this  argument  in 
support  of  the  existence  of  an  external  world. 

(2)  Theologically  also  an  Idealism  such  as  that  of 
Berkeley  was  an  impossibility  for  the  Schoolmen. 
They  were  well  acquainted  with  idealist  premises, 
but  on  theological  grounds  they  refrained  from  draw 
ing  idealist   conclusions.     It  did  not  escape  their 

1  "  Species,"  i.e.  "ideas"  in  Berkeleian  terminology.      Collier 
uses  "  species." 


BERKELEY'S  RELATION  TO  COLLIER    373 

notice  that  Subjective  Idealism  is  incompatible  with 
the  dogma  of  Transubstantiation.  So  long  as  philo 
sophy  continued  to  be  ancillary  to  a  theology  which 
maintained  Transubstantiation,  Subjective  Idealism 
was  impossible.  Collier  expressly  points  out  that  his 
theory  disproves  Transubstantiation.  Berkeley  does 
not  mention  this  as  a  consequence  of  his  doctrine, 
probably  because  he  was  acute  enough  to  see  that  it 
also  gave  rise  to  difficulties  in  connection  with  the 
Incarnation.  It  was  thus  perfectly  natural  that 
two  thinkers,  born  at  the  time  that  Berkeley  and 
Collier  were,  and  acquainted,  as  they  were,  with 
Scholasticism  and  the  New  Philosophy,  should  have 
reached  their  conclusions. 

We  have  thus  seen  that  it  is  possible  that  the  con 
current  formulation  of  idealist  theories  by  both 
Collier  and  Berkeley  was  either  a  pure  coincidence  or 
the  result  of  what  Lyon  has  called  "  the  imperious 
power  of  an  inner  logic."  x  But,  on  the  whole,  it  is 
more  probable,  I  think,  that  Berkeley  exercised  a 
direct  influence  on  Collier.  For  this  view  there  is 
some  evidence,  both  on  external  and  on  internal 
grounds. 

The  external  evidence  (which  we  shall  take  first) 
is,  it  must  be  admitted,  of  the  circumstantial 
variety  ;  but,  at  the  very  least,  it  seems  plausible 
that  Collier  had  seen  Berkeley's  book  before  the 
publication  of  his  own.  As  we  have  already  seen, 
when  Collier  mentions  Berkeley  in  letters  written 
about  a  year  after  the  appearance  of  Clavis  he  does 
not  deny  prior  acquaintance  with  the  Principles. 
And  it  is  really  very  difficult  to  believe  that  Collier 

1  ISIdtalisme  en  Angleterre,  p.  250. 


374  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

did  not,  in  fact,  know  of  its  argument  before  the 
printing  of  his  own  book.  For  the  Principles,  pub 
lished  in  1710,  created  a  good  deal  of  stir  in  London. 
Berkeley's  friend  Percival  did  his  best  to  make  it 
widely  known,  and  though  the  reports  he  sent  to 
Berkeley  were  not  altogether  encouraging,  they 
showed  at  least  that  people  were  talking  about  his 
book.  Thus,  in  one  of  his  regular  bulletins,  he  writes, 
"  A  physician  of  my  acquaintance  undertook  to 
describe  your  person,  and  argued  you  must  needs  be 
mad.  A  bishop  pitied  you.  Another  told  me  an 
ingenious  man  ought  not  to  be  discouraged  from 
exerting  his  wit."  Again,  he  writes  of  the  attitude  of 
Clarke  and  Whiston  towards  Berkeley  as  follows,  "  I 
can  only  report  to  you  at  second  hand  that  they  think 
you  a  fair  arguer  and  a  clear  writer,  but  they  say 
your  first  principles  you  lay  down  are  false."  And, 
finally,  he  says  that  Lord  Pembroke  thought  that 
Berkeley  was  "  an  ingenious  man,  and  ought  to  be 
encouraged,  but  that  he  could  not  be  convinced  of 
the  non-existence  of  matter."  It  is  clear,  then,  that 
Berkeley  was  being  talked  about,  however  unintelli- 
gently,  in  literary  and  philosophical  circles  in 
London  in  1710.  Is  it  likely  that  Collier  did  not  hear 
of  him  ?  Langford  Magna  is  not  London.  But 
Collier  was  not  as  isolated  as  one  might  think.  The 
neighbouring  parish  is  Bemerton,  the  rector  of  which, 
John  Norris,  "  the  English  Malebranche,"  was  still 
alive.  And  Salisbury,  the  cathedral  town,  was  at 
that  time  quite  a  literary  centre.  Further,  through 
his  wife,  who  was  a  niece  of  Sir  Stephen  Fox,  pay 
master  of  the  army,  he  had  a  connection  with 
London.  Lastly,  Collier  was  a  friend  and  correspon- 


BERKELEY'S  RELATION  TO  COLLIER    375 

dent  of  Whiston.  Now  Whiston  had  received  from 
Berkeley  a  copy  of  his  Principles,  and  was  so  much 
interested  that  he  went  to  see  Clarke  about  the  new 
doctrine.1  It  seems  exceedingly  probable,  especi 
ally  if  he  knew  that  Collier's  thoughts  were  running 
in  the  same  direction,  that  he  informed  Collier  of 
Berkeley's  book.  All  this  evidence  amounts,  it  is 
true,  to  nothing  more  than  probability  ;  but  the 
probability  seems  almost  convincing. 

But  it  is  certain  that  Collier  had  been  incubating 
the  theory  himself  long  before  he  could  have  heard  of 
Berkeley.  In  the  first  place,  we  have  his  explicit 
statement,  already  quoted,  that  he  entertained  his 
doctrine  for  ten  years  before  publishing  it.  He  must, 
therefore,  have  adopted  it  in  1703,  a  year  before  he 
became  rector  of  Langford  Magna.  Further,  Benson 
had  in  his  possession,  when  he  wrote  the  Memoir  of 
Collier,  three  of  Collier's  manuscripts,  which  contain 
drafts  and  sketches  of  the  theory  which  was  finally 
promulgated  in  Clavis.  The  first  of  these  is  dated 
1708,  and  is  entitled  Sketch  of  a  Metaphysical  Essay  on 

1  [Berkeley]  "  was  pleased  to  send  to  Mr.  Clarke  and  myself 
each  of  us  a  book.  After  we  had  both  perused  it,  I  went  to  Dr. 
Clarke  and  discoursed  with  him  about  it,  to  this  effect,  that  I 
being  not  a  metaphysician  was  not  able  to  answer  Mr.  Berkeley's 
subtle  premises,  though  I  did  not  at  all  believe  Mi  absurd  con 
clusion.  I  therefore  desired  that  he,  who  was  deep  in  such 
subtleties,  but  did  not  appear  to  believe  Mr.  Berkeley's  con 
clusion,  would  answer  him,  which  task  he  declined."  (Whiston's 
Historical  Memoirs  of  the  Life  of  Dr.  S.  Clarke,  pp.  133-4. )  Collier 
is  not  mentioned  in  Whiston's  Memoirs  of  the  Life  and  Writings 
of  Mr.  William  Whiston,  containing  Memoirs  of  Several  of  his 
Friends  also.  But  in  this  strange  autobiography  Whiston  makes 
a  system  of  mentioning  only  those  of  his  friends  who  were  well 
known  or  connected  in  some  way  with  the  controversies  in  which 
he  engaged.  And  Collier  was  not  well  known,  nor  did  he  concern 
himself  with  Whiston's  conflicts  with  his  Church  and  University. 


376  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

the  Subject  of  the  Visible  World  being  without  Us  or 
not. 

On  the  whole,  the  external  evidence  seems  to  show 
that  (a)  Collier  had  seen  Berkeley's  book  before  he 
published  his  own  ;  but  (6)  he  had  hit  upon  the 
theory  independently, 

The  internal  evidence  is,  from  the  philosophical 
standpoint,  more  interesting.  Here  again,  however, 
we  must  be  concerned  with  arguments  which  are 
merely  probable.  It  must  be  admitted  that  there  is 
nothing  whatever  in  Clavis  which  makes  it  certain 
that  Collier  had  seen  Berkeley's  book  ;  but  on  the 
whole,  internal  evidence  seems  to  support  our  theory. 

In  Clavis  Collier's  question  is,  "  Is  there  an  external 
world  ?  "  While  Berkeley  denies  mainly  the  materi 
ality  of  the  world,  Collier  denies  its  externality.  In 
the  end  the  two  arguments  reach  the  same  con 
clusion  ;  but  the  arguments  are  different,  and  their 
tendency  is  different.  Collier  defines  his  terms  very 
broadly.  By  "  world "  he  understands  "  body, 
extension,  space,  matter,  quantity,  etc."  *  And 
when  he  speaks  of  the  world  as  "  not  external,"  he 
means  that  it  "  exists  in,  or  in  dependence  on, 
mind,  thought,  or  perception."  2  He  gives  three 
examples  of  what  exactly  he  means  by  saying 
that  a  thing  exists  in,  or  in  dependence  on 
mind.  It  may  exist  in  mind,  first,  as  an  accident 
exists  in  substance  (Thus  there  is  only  one  substance 
— mind  :  matter  is  only  an  accident.  Hence  the 
Cartesian  two-substance  doctrine  is  by  implication 
denied) ;  second,  as  a  body  exists  in  a  place  (A  most 
unfortunate  example,  for  it  suggests  that  the  mind, 

1  Clavis,  p.  2.  2  Ibid.  p.  3. 


BERKELEY'S  RELATION  TO  COLLIER    377 

in  which  all  things  exist,  is  a  place,  and  that  "  inside 
the  mind "  and  "  outside  the  mind  "  are  spatial 
relations.  And  to  do  Collier  justice,  he  really  does 
not  mean  that)  ;  thirdly,  as  an  object  of  perception 
exists  in  its  respective  faculty.  Collier  prefers  the 
last  way  of  stating  the  relation.  As  objects  seen  in 
hallucinations  or  dreams  are  admitted  to  exist  in,  or 
in  dependence  on,  mind,  so,  Collier  maintains,  all  the 
world  exists.  These  definitions  and  explanations 
are  made  in  the  Introduction.  In  Part  I.  he  endea 
vours  to  show  that  the  visible  world  is  not  external. 
First,  in  Chapter  I.  section  i.  he  holds  that  what  is 
visible  need  not  be  external,  and  then  in  Chapter  I. 
section  ii.,  that  what  is  visible  cannot  be  external. 

(1)  Collier's  first  thesis  is  that  what  is  visible  is 
not  necessarily  external,  or  that  a  thing  may  seem  to 
be  external  without  being  really  so.  The  first  argu 
ment  he  adduces  is  fallacious.  He  maintains  that  an 
object  of  imagination  seems  as  much  external  as  an 
object  of  perception.  An  object  of  imagination,  for 
example  a  centaur,  need  not  have  external  existence. 
Therefore  what  seems  to  be  external  need  not  be  so. 
But  it  is  psychologically  false  that  an  imagined 
object  seems  as  much  external  as  a  perceived  object. 
The  imagined  object  is  recognised  as  being  dependent 
on  the  mind  in  a  way  in  which  the  perceived  object 
is  not.  Collier's  next  arguments,  however,  are 
better.  Secondary  qualities,  though  seemingly  ex 
ternal  and  independent,  are  now  admitted,  he  says, 
thanks  to  the  proofs  of  "Mr  Des  Cartes,  Mr  Male- 
branche,  and  Mr  Norris,"  not  to  be  really  so,  but  to 
be  dependent  on  mind.  Thus  what  is  visible  is  not 
necessarily  external. 


378  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Collier  then  adduces  a  series  of  arguments  to 
show  that  men  in  hallucinations,  visions,  dreams, 
etc.,  see  objects  which  seem  to  be  external.  But 
these  objects  are  normally  admitted  not  to  be  really 
external.  Thus,  on  this  count  also,  what  is  visible 
is  not  necessarily  external. 

(2)  Having,  as  he  thinks,  shown  that  what  is 
visible  need  not  be  external,  Collier  proceeds  to  prove 
that  it  cannot  be  external.  In  this  he  entirely  fails. 
He  rests  his  argument  chiefly  on  an  experiment  which 
he  requests  each  of  his  readers  to  make.  Press  or 
distort  the  eye,  and  look  at  the  moon.  Two  moons 
will  be  seen.  These  moons  cannot  both  be  external. 
Therefore  neither  can  be  external.  The  fallacy,  of 
course,  is  the  very  simple  one  of  inferring  that  because 
both  cannot  be  external  therefore  neither  can  be 
external.  Collier  says  that  one  cannot  be  external 
without  the  other's  being  external  also,  because  in 
that  case  it  ought  to  be  possible  to  distinguish 
between  the  percepts,  and  this  cannot  be  done.  But 
note  what  the  experiment  involves.  It  implies 
interference  with  the  normal  conditions  of  sense- 
perception.  Collier's  argument,  indeed,  is  this. 
Because  under  certain  abnormal  conditions,  e.g. 
when  you  press  your  eye  or  labour  under  hallucina 
tion,  you  seem  to  see  something  which  is  external, 
but  which  is  really  not,  therefore  always  under  normal 
conditions  what  is  seen  to  be  external  is  not  really 
so.  From  a  proposition  which  is  true  sometimes 
in  abnormal  conditions  Collier  attempts  to  deduce 
one  which  is  true  universally  under  normal  conditions. 

Part  II.  of  Clams  extends  the  arguments  of  Part  I. 
to  the  whole  world.     Part  I.  was  to  prove  that  the 


visible  world  is  not  external.  Part  II.  sets  out  to  show 
that  there  is  no  external  world  at  all.  But  the  nine 
arguments  which  Collier  brings  forward,  and  the 
three  objections  to  which  he  replies,  really  make  no 
further  contribution  to  the  problem.  These  pages 
are  cast  in  a  Scholastic  mould,  bristle  with  technical 
terminology,  and  are  both  in  matter  and  style  as 
different  as  possible  from  Berkeley's  work. 

All  in  all,  we  have  so  far  seen  little  real  similarity 
between  Berkeley  and  Collier.  Collier's  Introduction 
is  written  with  the  Cartesians  in  view,  Berkeley's  is 
directed  largely  against  Locke.  And  in  the  main 
body  of  his  work,  Collier  uses  a  great  many  argu 
ments  which  Berkeley  was  far  too  acute  to  employ. 
In  the  general  tendency  of  their  doctrines  there  is 
a  real  and  most  significant  difference.  Collier  is 
mainly  negative,  while  Berkeley,  though  employing 
destructive  criticism,  is  positive  in  method,  intention 
and  result.  Collier's  thesis  is,  What  is  visible  is  not 
external,  or,  more  generally,  The  external  world  does 
not  exist.  Berkeley's,  on  the  other  hand,  is  Esse  is 
percipi,  or,  more  generally,  The  world  does  exist  as  a 
world  of  ideas.  So  far,  Collier's  work  has  revealed 
absolutely  no  trace  of  the  influence  of  Berkeley. 

But  there  are  two  passages  in  Clavis,  one  at  least 
introduced  as  an  afterthought,  which  bear  a  much 
closer  resemblance  to  Berkeley's  attitude  and  stand 
point  than  to  Collier's  ;  and  it  is,  I  think,  neither 
fanciful  nor  uncharitable  to  suggest  that  we  may,  in 
these  pages,  detect  the  influence  of  Berkeley.  In 
these  passages,  which  occur  on  pp.  5-10  and  36-37, 
we  find  the  following  specifically  Berkeleian  views 
which  appear  nowhere  else  in  the  treatise. 


380  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

(1)  The  positive  doctrine  is  affirmed  that  what  is 
visible  does  really  exist.     "It  is  with  me  a  first 
principle  that  whatsoever  is  seen  is."  l     "  The  objects 
we  speak  about  are  supposed  to  be  visible  ;  and  that 
they  are  visible  or  seen  is  supposed  to  be  all  that  we 
know  of  them  or  their  existence.     If  so,  they  exist 
as  visible,  or,  in  other  words,  their  visibility  is  their 
existence."  2     Now,  all  this  is  clearly  very  similar  to 
Berkeley's  esse  is  percipi.     And  it  may  be  noted  that 
Collier  has  very  little  corresponding  to  Berkeley's 
aut  percipere.     The  theory  of  spirit,  which  hardly 
appears  at  all  in  those  of  Berkeley's  works  which 
Collier  could  have  seen,  is  practically  non-existent  in 
Collier's  own  writings. 

(2)  Collier  "  makes  no  doubt  or  question  of  the 
existence  of  bodies,  or  whether  the  bodies  which  are 
seen  exist  or  not."  3     Bodies  that  are  seen  certainly 
exist,   for   their   existence   is   constituted   by   their 
visibility.     It    is    noteworthy    that    on    this    point 
Collier  agrees  with  Berkeley  against  Malebranche, 
whom,  as  we  have  seen,  he  usually  follows. 

(3)  He  attributes  "  the  seeming  or  quasi  externeity 
of  visible  objects  "  to  the  will  of  God.     In  granting 
to  objects  this  quasi-externality  God  does  not  act 
capriciously,  for  it  is  "a  natural  and  necessary  con 
dition  of  their  visibility."  4     With  this  may  be  com 
pared  Berkeley's  theory  of  God  as  the  cause  of  the 
reality  of  the  world,  and  of  God's  volitions  as  the 
arbitrary  but  not  capricious  laws  of  nature. 

(4)  Collier  holds  that  the  mind  does  not  cause  its 
own  ideas   or   objects   of  perception,   though  it  is 

1  Claws,  p.  5.  z  Ibid.  pp.  36-37. 

s  Ibid.  p.  5.  *  Ibid.  p.  7. 


BERKELEY'S  RELATION  TO  COLLIER    381 

responsible  for  its  own  imaginative  experience.  He 
sharply  distinguishes  mind  from  will,  and  maintains 
that  though  man  is  free  to  will  as  he  pleases,  the  mind 
must  perceive  objects  as  they  are  presented  to  it  by 
God,  according  to  natural  and  necessary  conditions. 
All  this  is  precisely  Berkeley's  doctrine.  And  again, 
it  should  be  noted,  Collier  has  joined  with  Berkeley 
against  Malebranche,  who  maintained  that  all  human 
as  well  as  all  natural  causation  is  due  to  God. 

(5)  Collier  points  out,  finally,  that  when  he  argues 
that  all  matter  necessarily  exists  in  some  mind  or 
other,  he  does  not  restrict  the  conception  of  mind  to 
created  mind.  It  is  in  the  mind  of  God  that  matter 
exists  permanently.1  Collier  is  not  so  fully  aware  as 
Berkeley  of  the  indispensability  of  God  to  guarantee 
the  permanent  existence  of  the  world.  But  the  view 

is  there. 

We  have,  then,  half-a-dozen  most  important  points 
in  which  Collier  agrees  with  Berkeley  stated  in  two 
short  passages  of  half-a-dozen  pages,  and  nowhere 
else  in  the  book.  In  the  rest  of  the  treatise  the 
resemblance  between  the  two  "  Idealists  "  is  really 
very  slight.  Thus  there  seems  to  be  some  ground 
for  supposing  that  in  these  six  or  seven  pages,  pos 
sibly  introduced  after  the  rest  was  in  manuscript, 
Collier  was  directly  indebted  to  Berkeley.  It  must, 
however,  be  repeated  that  nothing  more  than  pro 
bability  is  claimed  for  these  arguments. 

It  may  be  mentioned,  in  conclusion,  that  it  is  not 
difficult  to  account  for  the  difference  in  the  fortunes 
enjoyed  by  Berkeley's  and  Collier's  books,  both 
among  their  contemporaries  and  in  the  estimation 

1  Cf.  Claris,  pp.  9-10. 


382  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

of  history.  On  their  intrinsic  philosophical  merits, 
the  Principles  and  Dialogues  are  in  a  different  class 
altogether  from  Clavis.  And  while  Berkeley's 
literary  style  is  the  most  delightful  in  the  history  of 
English  philosophy,  Collier's  is  gnarled  and  technical, 
and  even  in  his  own  day  must  have  sounded  anti 
quated.  Further,  Berkeley  made  himself  known  to 
his  own  generation  by  plunging  vigorously  into 
nearly  all  the  public  debates  of  the  time,  while 
Collier's  nearest  approach  to  controversy  was  a  mild 
indulgence  in  the  Arian  heresy.  And  finally,  while 
Berkeley  always  tried  to  enlist  people  on  his  side  by 
gradually  "  insinuating  "  his  views,  Collier's  book 
breathes  the  very  spirit  of  odi  profanum,  and  he  takes 
as  his  motto  the  dictum  of  Malebranche  :  "  Vulgi 
assensus  et  approbatio  circa  materiam  difficilem  est 
certum  argumentum  falsitatis  istius  opinionis  cui 
assentitur."  Nothing  could  be  more  different  than 
this  from  Berkeley's  endeavour  to  base  his  theory  on 
principles  approved  by  common  sense. 


APPENDIX  II 

JOHN  SERGEANT 

JOHN  SERGEANT,  critic  of  Locke  and  precursor  of 
Berkeley,  was  born  in  1622.  He  was  admitted  a 
sub-sizar  of  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  in  1639, 
and  soon  after  leaving  the  University  he  was  con 
verted  to  Roman  Catholicism.  Thenceforth  he 
employed  his  gifts,  which  were  considerable,  in  the 
defence  and  propagation  of  his  Faith.  He  took  part 
in  most  of  the  controversies  of  the  time  in  religious, 
philosophical,  and  political  matters  ;  and,  as  a 
vigorous  defender  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  he 
encountered  almost  every  great  Protestant  thinker 
and  writer  of  his  day.  In  1707  he  died,  as  he  had 
lived,  "  with  a  pen  in  his  hand." 

He  produced  in  all  36  works,  the  great  majority  of 
which  are  controversial  pamphlets  on  theological 
questions.  Only  three  of  his  books  are  of  philo 
sophical  importance,  and  they  were  all  written  near 
the  end  of  his  life.  They  are  : 

1.  The  Method  to  Science.     London,  1696. 

2.  Solid  Philosophy  Asserted,  Against  the  Fancies 
of  the   Ideists  :    or,   The  Method  to  Science  Farther 
Illustrated.       With     Reflexions      on     Mr.     Locke's 

383 


384  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Essay  concerning  Human  Understanding.  London, 
1697.1 

3.  Transnatural  Philosophy,  or  Metaphy sicks : 
Demonstrating  the  Essences  and  Operations  of  all 
Beings  whatever,  which  gives  the  Principles  to  all  other 
Sciences.  And  shewing  the  perfect  Conformity  of 
Christian  Faith  to  Right  Reason,  and  the  Unreason 
ableness  of  Atheists,  Deists,  Anti-trinitarians,  and 
other  Sectaries.  London,  1700. 

Very  little  attention  has  been  paid  by  historians 
of  philosophy  to  Sergeant's  work.  In  this  Appendix 
I  propose  to  give  a  short  account  of  Sergeant's 
general  attitude  to  the  problems  of  philosophy  in 
view  of  the  interest  it  possesses  for  the  student  of 
Locke  and  Berkeley. 

Sergeant  believes  that  the  failure  of  philosophy  is 
due  to  its  faulty  methods,  and  that  for  its  renaissance 
the  first  requisite  is  an  adequate  method.  A  survey 
of  the  history  of  philosophy,  with  its  differences  and 
controversies,  its  false  beginnings  and  inept  conclu 
sions,  fills  him  with  despair,  especially  when  its  lack 
of  progress  is  compared  with  the  advances  made  in 
mathematics.2  Sergeant  accordingly  suggests,  pre- 

1  The  two  copies  of  this  book  which  I  have  seen  have  slightly 
different  title-pages.      One  gives  the  author's  name  in  the  form 
which  Sergeant  generally  uses,  viz.   "  By  J.  S.",  the  other  has 
no  indication  who  the  author  is. 

2  He  expresses  his  philosophical  aim  in  very  vigorous  language 
in  the  Epistle  Dedicatory  of  his  Solid  Philosophy.      "  Wherefore, 
seeing  philosophy   reduced   to   this  lamentable    condition,  .... 
I  thought  it  became  me  to  reinstate  Reason  in  his  soveraignty 
over  Fancy  ;    and  to  assert  to  her  the  rightful  dominion  Nature 
had  given  her  over  all  our  judgments  and  discourses.     I  resolved 
therefore  to  disintricate  Truth  (which  lay  too  deep  for  Fancy  to 
fathom)  from  all  those  labyrinths  of  errour.     I  observ'd  that  philo 
sophy   labour'd   and   languish'd   under   many   complicated   dis- 


JOHN  SERGEANT  385 

cisely  as  Kant  subsequently  did,  that  philosophy 
might  do  well  to  study  the  method  of  mathematics 
with  a  view  to  improving  its  own.  And  he  sets 
himself  to  consider  "  whether  the  same  clear  way  has 
been  taken  in  other  parts  of  philosophy  as  has  been 
in  that  science  (i.e.  mathematics)." J  The  great 
advantage  of  the  method  of  mathematics  is,  in  his 
view,  that  it  is  definitive  and  demonstrative.  "  'Tis 
evident,"  he  says,  "  that  geometricians  do  lay  for 
their  axioms  self-evident  propositions  and  clear 
definitions  ;  and  their  postulatums  are  not  such  as 
are  merely  begg'd  or  supposed,  and  so  need  our 
favour  to  let  them  pass  for  truths  ;  but  they  claim 
our  assent  to  them  as  their  due  ;  and  the  conse 
quences  they  draw  are  all  of  them  immediate  ;  which 
makes  the  contexture  of  the  whole  work  close  and 
compacted."  2  These  advantages  are  not  enjoyed 
by  philosophy,  because  its  votaries  do  not  follow  the 
rigorous  way  of  mathematics.  "  I  have  not  ob 
served,"  he  continues,  "  that  any  other  sort  of  philo 
sophers  have  taken  that  clear  method.3  Whence  we 

tempers  (all  springing  from  this  way  of  ideas)  and  that  they  were 
grown  epidemical ;  nor  could  they  be  cur'd  by  the  application 
of  remedies  to  this  or  that  particular  part,  or  by  confuting  this 
or  that  particular  errour.  Hereupon,  having  found  out  the  true 
cause  of  all  these  maladies  of  human  understanding,  I  saw  it  was 
necessary  to  stub  up  by  the  roots  that  way  itself  ;  and,  by  close 
and  solid  reasons,  (the  most  decisive  weapons  in  Truth's  armory) 
to  break  in  pieces  the  brittle  glassy  essences  of  those  fantastick 
apparitions  ;  which,  if  a  right  way  of  reasoning  be  settled,  and 
understood,  will  disappear  and  vanish  out  of  the  world,  as  their 
elder  sisters  the  Fairies  have  done  in  this  last  half  century." 
(Solid  Philosophy,  Epistle  Dedicatory,  pp.  8-9). 

1  Method  to  Science,  Preface,  p.  6.          2  Op.  cit.  Preface,  p.  6. 

8  Sergeant  later  admits  that  suggestions  towards  the  mathe 
matical  method  are  to  be  found  in  Descartes  (op.  cit.  Preface, 
B.P.  2  B 


386  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

have  good  reason  to  suspect  that  the  want  of  observ 
ing  this  method,  or  something  equivalent  to  it,  has 
been  the  sole  occasion  of  all  those  deviations  from 
truth  and  disagreements  among  philosophers  in  their 
tenets  and  conclusions,  which  we  find  in  the  world."  l 

Like  Kant,  also,  Sergeant  develops  his  method  by 
criticism  of  the  two  methods  previously  employed  by 
Descartes  and  Locke  respectively,  which  he  calls  the 
Speculative  and  the  Experimental.  It  is  character 
istic  of  the  former  method  to  proceed  by  what  Ser 
geant  calls  "  Reason  and  Principles,"  while  the  latter 
is  the  method  of  Induction.2 

Sergeant  considers  and  examines  each  of  these 
methods  in  turn.  The  Cartesian  method,  in  the  first 
place,  is  based  on  a  first  principle  which  claims  to  be 
self-evident.  He  criticises  this  first  principle  on 
several  counts,  of  which  the  most  important  are  the 
following. 

Descartes'  procedure  for  the  discovery  of  the 
principle  "  Cogito  ergo  sum  "  is  unnecessary,  for  he 
could  have  reached  the  certainty  of  his  own  existence 
equally  well,  at  the  very  beginning  of  his  method  of 
doubt,  in  the  proposition  "  Dubito  ergo  sum."  And, 
since  in  each  case  the  existence  of  a  mental  process  is 
conceived  to  prove  the  existence  of  a  thinking  being, 
if  "  Cogito  ergo  sum  "  is  conclusive  of  his  own  exist- 

p.  86).  The  mathematical  method  was  also  adopted,  at  least  to 
some  extent,  by  Spinoza  and  Cumberland.  Sergeant  knew 
Spinoza,  but  he  does  not  seem  to  have  known  Cumberland's  work. 
He  was  well  acquainted  with  the  writings  of  the  Cartesians, 
mentioning  Malebranche  frequently,  and  also  Regis,  Rohault, 
Regius  and  Le  Grand,  with  the  latter  of  whom  he  engaged  in 
controversy. 

1  Op.  cit.  Preface,  p.  6  f.       *  Method  to  Science,  Preface,  p.  27. 


JOHN  SERGEANT  387 

ence,  so  is  "  Dubito  ergo  sum."  "  Nor  can  any 
reason  be  given,"  he  says,  "  why  '  Ego  sum  dubi- 
tans  '  does  not  include  in  it  '  Ego  sum  '  as  well  as 
'  Ego  sum  cogitans  '  does.  And  Cartesius  himself 
(Medit.  3d)  confesses  the  same  expressly.  To  what 
end,  then,  did  he  run  on  in  a  long  ramble  of  doubting, 
whenas  the  very  first  act  of  doubting  would  have  done 
his  whole  business,  and  have  prov'd  that  he  is  ?  "  x 

Sergeant  objects,  in  the  second  place,  that  Des 
cartes'  first  principle  is  methodologically  self-contra 
dictory.  It  is  the  nature  of  a  genuine  first  principle 
to  be  self-evident ;  that  is,  it  is  incapable  of  being 
reached  by  inference  or  validated  by  proof,  for  there 
is  nothing  more  evident  than  it  from  which  it  may 
be  inferred  or  by  which  it  may  be  proved.  But 
"  Cogito  ergo  sum  "  involves,  as  the  illative  particle 
ergo  indicates,  a  process  of  inference  ;  and  it  is 
therefore  not  a  true  first  principle.  And,  Sergeant 
points  out,  it  is  impossible  to  defend  Descartes,  as 
Spinoza  had  attempted  to  do,  by  denying  that  he 
meant  an  inference,  and  reading  as  his  first  principle 
one  positive  proposition,  viz.  "  Ego  sum  cogitans." 
For  Descartes  himself  uses  terms  compatible  only 
with  the  assumption  that  an  inference  is  implied, 
when  he  says  expressly  in  the  third  Meditation, 
"  Ex  eo  quod  dubito  sequitur  me  esse." 

But  though  Descartes  is  not  pinned  down  to  his 
own  words,  and  though  we  agree  with  Spinoza  that 
the  principle  may  be  stated  "  Ego  sum  cogitans,"  it 
is  clear  that  the  whole  first  principle  has  been  reached 
by  a  process  of  inference.  Descartes'  whole  method 
of  doubt  is  ultimately  a  method  of  inference,  and  his 

1  Ibid.  Preface,  p.  32. 


388  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

principle,  which  is  reached  at  the  end  of  the  process  of 
doubt,  is  therefore  not  self-evident.  "  For,  if  this 
was  evident  of  itself,  and  not  needed  to  be  proved,  he 
might  have  proposed  it  at  first,  without  making  all 
that  a-do."  l  Since,  then,  the  principle  is  not  self- 
evident,  it  cannot  be  a  genuine  first  principle. 

For  these  and  other  reasons,  Sergeant  concludes 
that  the  Cartesian  method  is,  as  method,  inade 
quate.2 

Equally  inadequate,  in  his  judgment,  is  the 
inductive  experimental  method.  He  does  not  at 
tempt  any  detailed  criticism  of  it,  as  method,  in  the 
Method  to  Science,  but  simply  asserts  that  it  is  utterly 
incompetent  to  beget  science.3  He  takes  the  position 
that  no  universal  truths  can  be  demonstrated  on  a 

1  Method  to  Science,  Preface,  p.  34. 

*  It  may  be  mentioned  that  Sergeant  criticises  Descartes' 
ontological  proof  of  the  existence  of  God  on  lines  closely  similar 
to  those  on  which  Kant  subsequently  based  his  destructive 
criticism.  The  essence  of  his  argument,  which  is  not  expressed 
nearly  so  clearly  as  Kant's,  is  that  it  is  impossible  to  conclude 
from  conception  to  existence,  and  therefore  that  my  conception 
of  God  does  not  warrant  the  conclusion  that  he  actually  exists. 
"  We  may  consider  the  notion  of  existence,  or  (which  is  all  one), 
know  the  meaning  of  that  word,  and  yet  abstract  whether  it  does 
actually  put  ita  formal  effect,  that  is,  whether  that  existence  is 
exercis'd  or  not  exercis'd  in  the  thing  ;  which  consideration  alone 
spoils  his  whole  argument.  Let  us  put  a  parallel.  I  have  a 
complex  idea  of  these  words  "  My  debtor  will  pay  me  a  hundred 
pounds  tomorrow  at  ten  o'clock  at  his  goldsmith's  "  ;  that  is, 
I  have  in  my  mind  the  meaning  of  all  the  words  ;  and  existence 
is  necessarily  involv'd  in  the  meaning  of  those  words,  for  they 
signifie  determinate  persons,  time,  place,  and  action,  all  which 
involve  existence  ;  will  it  therefore  follow  that  that  action  of 
paying  me  money  will  be,  because  my  idea  includes  the  existence 
of  that  action,  so  determinately  circumstanc'd  ?  (Method  to 
Science,  Preface,  p.  46  f.). 

8  Method  to  Science,  Preface,  p.  57.  Cf.  Solid  Philosophy,  Pre 
face,  §  2,  3,  6. 


JOHN  SERGEANT  389 

basis  of  actual  data  obtained  by  experiment,  for  no 
mere  enumeration  of  particular  facts  can  lead  logic 
ally  to  the  enunciation  of  a  universal  proposition  ; 
and  he  even  declares  that  "  when  an  experiment,  or 
(which  is  the  same)  a  matter  of  fact  in  nature  is  dis 
covered,  we  are  never  the  nearer  knowing  what  is  the 
proper  cause  of  such  an  effect,  into  which  we  may 
certainly  refund  it ;  which,  and  onely  which,  is  the 
work  of  science." l  His  point  is  that  those  who 
pretend  that  their  principles  are  derived  by  induction 
from  particulars  really  interpret  these  particulars 
according  to  principles  which  they  assume  on  grounds 
other  than  those  supplied  by  the  particulars  them 
selves. 

The  method  that  Sergeant  himself  adopts  is  a 
mathematico-logical  one,  in  which  emphasis  is  laid  on 
system  as  exemplified  in  logical  concatenation  and 
mathematical  proof.2  System  in  philosophy  is 
recognised  by  him  to  be  of  the  very  first  importance. 
He  professes  that  his  method  is  a  new  one,  and 
expects  much  of  it ;  but,  in  reality,  it  is  largely  a 
rechauffe  of  Aristotelian  logic.  He  points  out  that 
Aristotle  has  been  misrepresented  by  the  Schoolmen, 
and  he  regards  it  as  part  of  his  task  to  reinstate  the 
philosophy  of  Aristotle  by  re -interpreting  his  works. 
Sergeant's  ideal  is  a  "  solid  "  philosophy,  and  he  takes 
care  to  state  that  "  those  who  followed  Aristotle's 
principles  (as  the  great  Aquinas  constantly  endea 
voured)  did  generally  discourse,  even  in  such  subjects, 
when  they  had  occasion,  very  solidly."  3 

1  Method  to  Science,  Preface,  p.  59. 

2  Method  to  Science,  p.  60  £f. 

3  Solid  Philosophy,  Epistle  Dedicatory,  p.  3. 


390  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

Sergeant  believes  that  it  is  impossible  to  demon 
strate  philosophy  solidly  unless  our  notions  are 
clearly  defined.  "  The  proper  and  effectual  way  to 
gain  a  clear  and  distinct  knowledge  of  our  simple 
notions  is  to  make  definitions  of  them."  *  Hence  he 
advocates,  as  one  of  the  first  and  most  important 
pre-requisites  of  philosophical  progress,  the  compila 
tion  of  a  standard  dictionary.  "  They  (sc.  defini 
tions)  are  such  necessary  instruments  to  true  and 
solid  science,  that  I  could  wish  for  the  improvement 
of  knowledge  that  our  Universities  would  appoint  a 
Committee  of  Learned  Men  to  compile  a  Dictionary 
of  Definitions  for  the  notions  we  use  in  all  parts  of 
philosophy  whatever."  2 

Though  Sergeant  criticises  Locke  and  Descartes 
severely,  he  agrees  with  them  in  the  initial  assump 
tions  of  their  two-substance  doctrine.3  Man,  he  says, 
is  one  thing,  compounded  of  a  corporeal  and  a  spiritual 
nature.  Each  of  these  two  natures  gives  rise  to  a 
mental  operation  proper  and  peculiar  to  it.  The 
bodily  faculty  is  that  called  Imagination  or  Fancy, 
the  spiritual  faculty  is  Mind  or  Understanding. 
There  are  some  beings,  e.g.  brutes,  which  possess  in 
strictness  no  souls  but  only  bodies,  and  consequently 
their  mental  operations  are  limited  to  such  perception 
as  the  faculty  of  Fancy  enables  them  to  have.  On 
the  other  hand,  purely  spiritual  beings,  such  as 
angels,  have  no  faculty  of  Fancy  (for  that  is  essen- 

1  Method  to  Science,  Preface,  p.  51. 

2  Method  to  Science,  Preface,  p.  53.     Cf.  Berkeley's  conception 
of  the  necessity  of  a  Dictionary  of  Definitions  for  a  demon 
strative  science  of  ethics. 

\Solid  Philosophy,  Preface,  §  18.     Cf.  p.  65  ff. 


JOHN  SERGEANT  391 

tially  dependent  on  body)  but  only  Mind  or  Under 
standing.  Man,  however,  as  a  complex  being, 
possessing  both  body  and  soul,  and  consequently  both 
Fancy  and  Understanding,  knows  by  means  of  both 
spiritual  notions  and  material  ideas  or  phantasms. 
Sergeant  points  out  that,  in  the  history  of  philo 
sophy,  notions  and  ideas  have  very  commonly  been 
confused,  and  he  maintains  that  one  of  the  most 
necessary  tasks  for  the  reformer  in  philosophy  is  to 
explain  carefully  the  differences  between  them.1 

His  account  of  sense-perception  is  largely  based  on 
Scholastic  and  Cartesian  theories.  All  bodies,  he 
holds,  emit  "  effluviums,"  i.e.  minute  and  impercep 
tible  particles,  which  pass  through  the  "  pores  "  of  the 
senses,  and  are  thus  carried  to  the  brain.  Now,  the 
particles  and  the  motions  they  cause  in  the  sense- 
organs  are  material,  but  the  notions  which  they 
produce  in  the  soul  are  not  material.  How,  then, 
are  we  to  explain  this  interaction  and  intercausation 
of  body  and  mind  ?  Sergeant  accounts  for  it  by  a 
supposition  that  was  then  very  generally  made. 
"  There  must  be  some  chief  corporeal  part  in  man," 
he  says,  "  which  is  immediately  united  with  the  soul, 
as  the  matter  with  its  form,  and  therefore  is  primarily 
corporeo-spiritual,  and  includes  both  natures." 2 
This  part  of  the  body  is,  in  the  view  of  Descartes,  the 
pineal  gland.  And  Sergeant  agrees  that  between 
body  and  soul,  in  the  pineal  gland,  there  is  a  close 
interaction.  "  When  that  part  is  affected,  after  its 

1  Some  account  of  Sergeant's  conception  of  the  relation  between 
ideas  and  notions  has  been  given  above,  in  connection  with  our 
investigation  of  Berkeley's  theory  of  notions. 

2  Solid  Philosophy,  p.  66. 


392  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

peculiar  nature,  corporeally,  the  soul  is  affected  after 
its  nature,  that  is  spiritually  or  knowingly."  x  The 
body  is  regarded  as  the  matter  of  the  human  being, 
the  mind  as  the  form  ;  and  in  the  pineal  gland  there 
occurs  what  Sergeant  calls  "  the  immediate  identi 
fication  of  matter  and  form."  He  does  not,  however, 
mean  that  they  are  completely  identical.  They  still 
remain  as  matter  and  form  respectively  ;  and  each 
is  affected  in  a  way  peculiar  to  itself  and  therefore 
different  from  the  other.  It  is  essential  that  the  soul 
or  the  seat  of  knowledge,  though  identified  in  the 
pineal  gland  with  the  corporeal  nature  of  the  body, 
should  yet  be  independent  of  it,  for  it  must  be  so 
distinct  from  the  body  as  to  be  able  to  abstract  from 
the  actual  concrete  effluviums  supplied  to  it,  and  thus 
form  universal  notions.  It  is  this  fact  of  abstraction 
that  explains  why  it  is  that  the  effluviums  do  not 
always  cause  in  the  mind  the  notion  of  the  object  as 
a  whole  from  which  they  come.  The  effluviums  enter 
consciousness  through  different  sense-organs,  and 
are  "  imprinted  diversely  "  according  to  the  partic 
ular  sense-organ  through  which  they  come.  And  it 
is  possible  to  consider  the  effluviums  abstractly 
according  to  the  sense-organs  through  which  they 
come,  and  in  this  way  to  form  notions  not  of  the 
object  as  a  whole,  but  of  some  one  aspect  of  it.  And 
it  is  in  this  way  that  abstract  notions  are  produced. 

Sergeant  admits  that  the  word  "  notion "  is 
ambiguous,  for  it  may  mean  either  what  he  himself 
calls  an  act  of  knowing,  or  the  object  known.2  Now, 

1  Solid  Philosophy,  p.  66. 

2  Cf.   the  distinction  made  in  recent  psychology  and   episte- 
mology  between  act  and  object  (Akt  and  Objckt). 


JOHN  SERGEANT  393 

he  admits  that  in  philosophy  both  act  and  object  are 
of  importance,  for  "  there  are  two  considerations  in 
knowledge,  viz.  the  act  of  my  knowing  power  and  the 
object  of  that  act,  which  as  a  kind  of  form  actuates 
and  determines  the  indifferency  of  my  power,  and 
thence  specifies  my  act."  l  He  explains,  however, 
that  he  does  not  take  notion  in  the  subjective  sense  of 
an  act  of  simple  apprehension,  but  in  its  objective 
meaning  ;  and  he  accordingly  gives  the  following 
definition.  "  A  notion  is  the  very  thing  itself  exist 
ing  in  my  understanding."  2  Yet,  though  he  insists 
that  notion  and  thing  are  identical,  he  admits  that 
their  manners  of  existing  differ.  The  notion  of  a 
thing,  e.g.  a  stone,  qua  "  in  the  mind,"  has  a  spiritual 
manner  of  existing,  whereas  the  thing  itself  has  a 
corporeal  manner  of  existing.  He  maintains,  how 
ever,  that  this  difference  of  manner  of  existing  has 
no  effect  on  what  he  believes  to  be  the  essential 
identity  of  "  thing  "  and  "  notion."  3 

He  illustrates  this  conception  of  identity  through 
difference  by  the  relations  between  notions  in  human 
minds  and  in  the  mind  of  God.  Things,  he  believes, 
were  in  the  divine  understanding  prior  to  their  crea 
tion  ;  and  they  still  exist  there  as  divine  archetypes. 
But,  as  created  things,  they  exist  also  as  notions  in 
human  minds.  It  is  essentially  the  same  thing  that 
thus  exists  both  in  God's  mind  and  in  human  minds.4 

This  doctrine  of  notions  is  expounded,  with  many 
applications  and  in  great  detail,  in  the  Method  to 
Science  and  Solid  Philosophy.  In  the  former  book 
Sergeant  classifies  the  "  common  heads  of  notions  >r 

1  Solid  Philosophy,  p.  26.       *  Op.  cit.  p.  27.       »  Op.  cit.  p.  38. 
4  Op.  cit.  p.  40. 


394  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

according  to  the  Aristotelian  table  of  categories. 
The  whole  book  is,  in  fact,  Aristotelian  in  tendency 
and  execution,  and  it  professes  to  lay  down  the 
principles  of  all  scientific  knowledge.  He  maintains, 
as  we  have  seen  when  considering  his  criticism  of 
Cartesianism,  that  all  genuine  first  principles  are 
self-evident  propositions.1  Self-evidence  in  a  propo 
sition  he  understands  in  a  very  strict  sense  to  require 
the  formal  identity  of  its  terms.  The  terms  need 
not,  indeed,  be  verbally  or  grammatically  identical, 
but  they  must  be  capable  of  reduction  to  verbal  and 
grammatical  identity.  He  attempts  to  show  in 
detail  that  the  first  principles  which  form  the  basis 
of  all  philosophical  sciences  are  self-evident  proposi 
tions  of  this  sort. 

Thus,  as  the  first  principles  of  metaphysics  he 
mentions  various  forms  of  the  Law  of  Identity,  e.g. 
"  Self-existence  is  self -existence,"  "  What  is  is," 
"  Ens  is  ens."  Different  expressions  for  the  Law  of 
Contradiction  are  also  given,  e.g.  "  Existence  is  not 
non-existence,"  and  "  'Tis  impossible  the  same  thing 
should  both  be  and  not  be  at  once." 

The  first  principles  of  other  sciences  are  also 
identical  propositions.  The  science  of  physics  is 
grounded,  he  maintains,  on  the  principle  "  Corpus 
est  quantum  "  or  "  Corpus  est  extensum."  Now, 
these  formulations  of  the  first  principles  of  physics 
are  not  verbally  self-evident,  but,  "if  we  rifle  the 
words  to  get  out  the  inward  sense,"  2  we  shall  find 
that  they  are  really  self -identical.  "  Corpus  est 
extensum  "  really  means,  if  we  examine  it  carefully, 
"  Ens  extensum  est  ens  extensum  "  or  "  Corpus  est 

1  Method  to  Science,  p.  130  ff.          *  Ibid.  p.  151. 


JOHN  SERGEANT  395 

corpus,"  propositions  which  are  obviously  formally 
self-evident. 

The  first  principles  of  mathematics  also  are  self- 
evident.  They  are  reducible  to  formally  self- 
identical  propositions.  Sergeant  merely  mentions 
two  such  propositions  :  "  A  whole  is  greater  than 
part  of  itself  "  is  not  verbally  identical ;  but  it  may 
be  reduced  to  a  verbally  identical  proposition  ;  and 
the  axioms  about  equals  in  Euclid's  Elements  may 
all  be  reduced  to  the  identical  proposition,  "  Aequale 
est  aequale  sibi." 

These  are  examples  of  some  of  the  identical 
propositions  involved  in  some  of  the  most  important 
philosophical  sciences.  Sergeant  believes  that  the 
arguments  which  he  has  used  in  connection  with  these 
first  principles  apply  equally  to  all  others  ;  and 
consequently  he  affirms,  as  a  universal  proposition, 
that  all  the  first  principles  of  science  are  ultimately 
self-evident  propositions. 

Solid  Philosophy  is  intended,  as  the  Preface  shows, 
to  apply  the  principles  developed  in  the  Method  to 
Science  to  criticism  of  Locke,  or  rather,  to  criticise 
Locke  from  the  standpoint  of  the  Method  to  Science. 
It  examines  Locke's  Essay  chapter  by  chapter  and 
verse  for  verse  in  much  the  same  way  as  Leibniz  did 
in  his  Nouveaux  Essais,  and  its  total  of  534  closely- 
printed  pages  contains  many  acute  and  searching 
criticisms  of  the  theory  of  Locke.  The  general  lines 
of  his  criticism  of  Locke's  theory  of  ideas  have  already 
been  indicated  in  connection  with  our  account  of  the 
very  similar  criticisms  of  Locke  developed  by  Berke 
ley  in  the  Commonplace  Book.  For  our  purpose,  at 
least,  that  is  the  most  interesting  of  his  criticisms  ; 


396  BERKELEY'S  PHILOSOPHY 

but  the  book  is  packed  with  passages,  often  indeed 
prolix  and  inept,  but  frequently  terse,  incisive  and 
suggestive,  which  deserve  the  close  attention  of  all 
students  of  Locke  and  Berkeley.  To  give  an  ade 
quate  account  of  these  criticisms  within  the  limits 
of  this  Appendix  would  be  an  impossible  task,  and 
it  will  not  be  attempted.  But  enough  has  perhaps 
been  said  to  show  that  Sergeant  merits  study  by 
all  who  are  interested  in  the  philosophy  of  Locke 
and  Berkeley. 


INDEX 


Abbott,  106,  133  n.^ 
Abstract  ideas,  j&59,  64-65, 

167.  S      / 

Berkeley's       criticism       of, 

118  ff. 
Algebra,    in   the   Commonplace 

Book,  80. 
of  Ethics,  289fl. 
of  Nature,  219ff. 
Altruism,  310. 
Analytic  philosophy,  294. 
Appearance  and  Reality,  1 91  ff . 
Aristotle,  7,  232,  235,  310,  372, 

389. 
Avenarius,  203. 

Bacon,  1. 
Bailey,  105,  109. 
Balfour,  316. 
Baronius,  371. 
Barrow,  83  n.,  87. 
Bentley,  79. 
Blakey,  362  n. 
Browne,  15,  330,  342-3. 
Biilffinger,  363. 
Burthogge,  166  n.,  360. 
Butler,   314  ff.,  322,   338,   349, 
354. 

Cantor,  212n. 

Cartesianism,  geometrical 

optics  of,  95  ff. 

Cartesianism,  influence  of,    on 
Berkeley,  67-73. 


Cassirer,  138n.,  364. 
Causality,  Berkeley's  theory  of, 

57,  205  ff.,  250  ff. 
Locke's  theory  of,  56  ff. 
Cavalieri,  76,  82,  279. 
Certainty,  58  ff. 
Cheselden's  case,  113n. 
Cheyne,  87. 

Chillingworth,  326,  338. 
Christianity,  338  ff. 
Clarke,   317,   346,   348  n.,   354, 

365,  374. 
Collier,  360  ff. 
Collins,  327,  329,  330,  336,  339, 

345  ff. 

Colours,  perception  of,  104, 108- 
Common    Sense,    57,    61,    347, 

352,  355. 
Confucius,  340. 
Cumberland,  289  n. 
Cudworth,  73,  74. 

Deists,  15  ff.,  321  ff. 
De  Moivre,  272. 
Demonstration,  60. 
Descartes,   7,   31,   68,   75,   150, 

179,    211,    215,    222,    250, 

290  n.,  372,  386. 
Distance,  perception  of ,  97,  103. 

Egoism,  310. 

Environment,  Berkeley's  philo 
sophical  and  religious, 
12  ff. 


397 


398 


INDEX 


Epicurus,  75. 
Erdmann,  364. 
Error,  60. 

Ethics,   application  of  mathe 
matics  to,  288  ff. 

Berkeley's  theory  of,  291  ff. 

Locke's  theory  of,  284  ff. 
Evil,  307  ff. 
Extension,  HOff. 
Externality,  181  ff. 

Collier's  theory  of,  376  ff. 

Faith,  342. 

difference  from  sense-know 
ledge,  355. 

difference      from      notional 
knowledge,  356. 

Ferrier,  98  n.,  106. 

Fluxions,  267  ff. 

Fraser,  Campbell,  20  n.,  229  n., 
318,  367. 

Freedom,  305-306,  310,  346. 

Free-thinkers,  327  ff. 

Galileo,  91. 

Geometry,  Berkeley's  relation 

to  Euclidean,  83  ff. 
Berkeley's     conception     of, 

261  ff. 

Geulincx,  68,  289  n. 
Glanvill,  290  n. 

God,  Berkeley's  theory  of,  as 
cause,   57,    184,    194,   206, 
226,  250  ff. 
Berkeley's     theory     of,     in 

morality,  308,  310. 
Collier's  theory  of,  380. 
Locke's  theory  of,  57 
Malebranche's      theory     of, 

70  ff. 
ontological  proof  of,  69,  348, 

350. 

Good,  307  ff. 
Green,  T.  H.,  4. 


Halley,  87,  272. 

Hamilton,  113n.,  157  n. 

Happiness,  307  ff.,  315. 

Harris,  87. 

Hayes,  87,  272. 

Helmholtz,  102  n. 

Hobbes,   1,   13,  31,  61,  74,  75, 

312,  315. 
Hume,  2,  5,  47,  148,  196,  198, 

202,  317. 

Husserl,  138  n.,  153,  168. 
Hutcheson,  312. 

Idea,  archetypal,  256. 

Berkeley's  theory  of,  147  ff., 

181  ff. 
Locke's     theory     of,     36  ff., 

42  ff.,  54  ff. 
Sergeant's        criticism        of 

Locke's  theory  of,  62-66. 
Identity,  49  ff.,  198  ff. 
Imagination,  128,   148  ff.,   160, 

274. 

Immediacy,  148  ff.,  193  ff. 
Immortality,  301,  353. 
Indivisibles,  83. 
Infinite,  see  God. 
Infinitesimals,  86,  88,  265  ff. 
Introspection,     33,     107,     109 , 

121,  123. 
Intuition,  53,  58  ff. 

James,  105. 
Jurin,  265-6. 
Judgment,  255. 

Kant,  5,   13,   117,  294  n.,  301, 

306,  320,  385,  386. 
Keill,  87. 
King,  343. 
Knowledge,  analogical,  343. 

notional,  161  ff. 

theory  of,  117ff. 

of  ideas,  147  ff. 

of  spirits,  159  ff. 


INDEX 


399 


Laws  of  Nature,  221  ff.,  224  f., 

248  ff. 

as  moral  rules,  301. 
Leibniz,   76,  87,   88,  211,  212, 
228-230,    251,     272,     275, 
279,  289 n. 

Locke,  general  character  of 
philosophy  of,  1,  13,  14, 
17,  19. 

influence  on  Berkeley,  32-67. 
method  of,  9,  32. 
theory     of     abstract     ideas, 

causality,  56. 
ethics,  284  ff.,  317. 
ideas,  36  ff.,  168. 
mind,  46  ff. 
modes,  54. 
psychology,  7. 
reality,  41  ff. 
relations,  56. 
representative  perception, 

150  ff. 
qualities,      primary      and 

secondary,  40  ff.,  179ff. 
space  and  time,  239ff. 
sobstance,  41  ff. 
Lyon,  Georges,  167,  373. 

Magnitude,  98,  104  ff. 
Malebranche,    31,    38,    57,    68, 
98  ff.,   102  n.,   187  n.,  215, 
317,  368,  369. 
Mandeville,  312,  315,  330. 
Mathematics,  Berkeley's 

theory  of,  261  ff. 
in     application     to     ethics, 

263  ff.,  289  ff. 
in    the    Commonplace   Book, 

75  ff. 

theory  of  signs,  209  ff. 
Matter,  Berkeley's  criticism  of, 

170  ff. 

Cartesian  view  of,  68. 
Collier's  view  of,  376. 
Meanings,  130-131,  159. 
Meinong,  153. 


Memory,  148. 
Metaphysics,  117ff.   • 
Method,  8. 
Mill,  6,  103. 

Mind,    Berkeley's    theory    of, 
51  ff.,  193  ff. 

Locke's  theory  of,  46,  52. 
Miracles,  302  n. 
Modes,  Berkeley's  theory  of,  55- 

Locke's  theory  of,  54. 
Molyneux,  15,  100. 
Moral  rules,  310  ff. 
More,  Henry,  73. 
Motion,  226  ff.» 

Names  as  universals,  129-130. 
Nature,  208,  221,  301. 
Newton,  14,   17,  31,  75  ff.,  87, 

212,     222,     227-230,     235, 

239,  243,  267. 
Nieuwentijt,  88. 
Norris,  361,  368,  369. 
Notion,   Berkeley's  theory  of, 

67,   143,   144,   161  ff.,  254. 

352. 

Burthogge's  theory  of,  166  n. 
Sergeant's  theory  of,  163  ff., 

393. 

Obligation,  moral,  300,  315. 
Occam's  Razor,  39,  176. 
Occasionalism,  68,  175,  196. 
Ontological  proof,  69,  348,  350. 

Pampsychism,  205. 
Perception,  142  ff.,  253,  255. 

representative,  150  ff. 

See  also  Vision. 
Permanence,      49ff.,       185  ff., 

193  ff.,  198  ff. 
Personality,  198  ff. 
Phaenomena,  254. 
Philosophy,       general       char 
acteristics  of  English,  1-9. 
Plato,  232,  233,  256. 
Pleasure,  307. 
Presentations,  153. 


400 


INDEX 


Psychology,  method  of,  3  ft.        ! 
of  Vision,  94-116. 

Qualities,  primary  and  secon 
dary,  Berkeley's  theory  of, 
180  f. 

primary  and  secondary,  Col 
lier's  reference  to,  377. 

primary  and  secondary, 
Locke's  theory  of,  40  ff . , 
179ff. 

Raphson,  87. 

Reality,  Berkeley's  theory  of, 
178ff.,  193ff.,  204-5. 

Locke's  theory  of,  42  ff. 
Reason,  257. 

and  religion,  326. 

pleasures  of,  309. 
Reid,  152  n.,  156  n.,  361. 
Relations,     Berkeley's    theory 
of,  6,  159. 

Locke's  theory  of,  55. 
Religion,  philosophy  of,  319  ff. 
Revelation,  232. 
Robins,  265-6,  271. 

Sameness,  154  ff.,  186  f. 
Scepticism,  53,  57  ff.,  70. 
Scheiblerus,  371  n. 
Scholasticism,  16,  95,  118,  187, 

235,  371. 

Self,  56  ff.,  and  see  Spirit. 
Self-love,  307,  310. 
Sensations,  pleasure -aspect  of, 

309. 

tactual,  99  ff. 
visual,  100  ff. 
Sergeant,  61-67,  162  ff.,  290  n., 

292  n.,  383  ff. 

Shaftesbury,  313,  315,  330. 
Signs,     theory    of,     102,     110, 

131  ff.,  209  ff.,  250. 
Solipsism,  205. 
Sorley,  362  n. 


Soul,  immortality  of,  see  Im 
mortality. 

Space,  90,  226  ff.,  242  ff. 
Spinoza,  31,  74,  75,  289  n. 
Spirit,  existence  of,  193  ff. 

ground  of  reality,  1 78  ff. 
Stewart,  361. 
Stout,  114n.,  148  n.,  153. 
Suarez,  371  n. 

Substance,  Berkeley's  criticism 
of  Locke,  177  ff. 

Locke's  theory  of,  42  ff.,  390. 
Summum  Bonum,  307  ff.,  315. 
Swift,  16. 

Taylor,  203  n. 
Tennemann,  364. 
Theology,  320. 
Tillotson,  326,  338. 
Time.  89.  226  ff.,  239ff. 
Tindul,  339,  340,  341. 
Toland.    15,    336,   337  n.,   339, 
340. 

Ueberweg,  364. 

Universals.as  meanings,  1 30-  \  3 1 

as  names,  129-130. 

as  particular  images,  128-1 

as  particular  things,  127- 

as  signs,  131  ff. 

possibility  of,  123  ff.,  ~G3. 

relation  to  abstract  ideas,  1 22. 
Utilitarianism,  317-8. 

Vision,  psychology  of,  94-116. 
Volition,  see  Will. 

Wallis,  76,  87,  212. 

Walton,  265. 

Ward,  7,  8,  156  n. 

Whiston,  374,  375. 

Will,     Berkeley's     theory     of, 

200  ff.,  252. 
freedom  of,  305,  370. 

Woolston,  339-341. 

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