And Hood depicts the terror of the alderman at a system which would

'For mock-turtle make me sup sensations.'

The grave criticisms and arguments of many of Berkeley's opponents rest

on the same basis. On the other hand, Hegel looks down loftily upon the

whole affair, and pronounces the philosophy and its criticism a mere

play upon words. Berkeley says _without_ is _within_. Be it so. He has

done nothing to settle the problem of philosophy, which remains as

before. It may help to bring out more clearly what we believe to be a

juster estimate of the nature and value of the speculations of Bishop

Berkeley, if we shortly summarize these two different modes of

criticizing his system as they appear in their latest form.

Thus it is said, on the one hand, when we look at any object we feel

compelled to assert that we see it to be of a certain colour; but this

assertion, we afterwards find, must be compatible with two facts--that

the same object has different colours as seen by the same person from

different points of view, and also as seen by different persons at the

same time. Yet we stand by our conviction, that we do see the same

thing, because it is our conviction that we do see it. If we were not to

stand by it under these circumstances, we could never stand by such

natural convictions at any time. The whole evidence for the system is

that visible objects look of different sizes and colours at different

distances, and in different lights; while the arguments against the

theory are the primary convictions of men.[221]

On the other hand, a recent German critic says that the reason why

Berkeley's theory has been so little approved of, not only by the great

public of those who are capable of reflection, but also by those who are

philosophers by profession, is that it is not at all in advance of

common opinion; for Berkeley was not the first to declare that the apple

which is seen and felt, is only seen and felt, or is phenomenal. This

assertion is as old as philosophy. Most philosophers, however, in

opposition to Berkeley, have thought, and still think, that the

fundamental cause of the phenomena which brings it about is not merely

phenomenal, but something quite different. This hypothesis is not

without its difficulties. We cannot explain how a motion in the nerves

becomes a sensation which we are conscious of. But Berkeley's theory

does not better the position. He cannot show how it happens that the

divine objective 'ideas' become one human subjective perception or

intuition; he does not tell us how God enables us to share or represent

His thoughts, since He neither speaks to us nor writes to us. Berkeley

cannot, from his point of view, show with any certainty where the truth

lies in the different opinions of men upon the orderly coherence of the

phenomenal world, the relation of phenomenal things to each other, upon

the ground and purpose of human existence, &c. In short, he is as little

able to found a scientific knowledge and a theory of knowledge upon his

hypothesis as the common opinion of man can on its presupposition. His

whole system is only a change of position without result. It explains

nothing, helps us in nothing--it is no philosophy.[222]

We have chosen these two representations, not because they are the best,

but simply because they are the latest.

All such criticisms proceed upon the supposition that the whole of the

philosophy of Berkeley is summed up in the 'Principles of Human

Knowledge,' and do not even take the trouble to investigate the history

of the opinions advanced in that unfinished and imperfect treatise. They

do not know the philosophical importance of the Theory of Vision, the

correspondence between Johnson and Berkeley, nor the Platonism or

Neo-Platonism of 'Siris.' The publication of a complete edition of

Berkeley's writings ought itself to render such criticism impossible,

and the elucidations supplied by Professor Fraser should make them less

excusable. A philosophical critic can scarcely now proceed on the

presupposition that the 'Principles of Human Knowledge' and the

Dialogues are the full and finished results of Berkeley's speculations,

and take it upon him to neglect all else in his critique.[223] He must

now recognise that it is not so easy to sum up Berkeley's principles;

that we are in the same position for judging him as we would be with

regard to Leibnitz if the 'Monadologie' and the 'Nouveaux Essais' had

never been written; that we have a series of treatises, each more

unfinished than the other, from which the latent developing thoughts

have to be gathered as much by reference to history and life as by

actual reference to their pages. He must recognise that there is a

discernible unity in his life and speculations--a unity which may be

traced throughout all Berkeley's writings, and which reconciles the

Theory of Vision with 'Siris,' the Preface to the 'Principles,' &c.,

with the cancelling of the pages on Nominalism in the last edition of

the 'Alciphron.'

Berkeley's whole philosophy is a combination of two currents of

speculation--that of Locke on the one hand, and that of the English

mystics on the other. In his earlier writings the influence of Locke is

predominant, but gradually loses power until at last it almost succumbs

to the influence of the Platonists; but, from first to last, we have the

attempt to combine what is real and deep and true in the old spiritual

philosophy with the clearness, consistency, and relation to physical

science which Nominalism and the Baconian method can bring.

Berkeley seeks, in metaphysics, direct spiritual intuition; in physics,

to abolish what would prevent this intuition. The mystics from whom

Berkeley had learned so much had built their system of philosophy upon

such an intuition, and made it their one thing needful. But their

spiritual intuition was an intuition which was said to be enjoyed in

meditations and trances, not in life and work. The world of things seen

and handled did not bring them into direct communion with spirit; it was

rather a veil to cloud the vision, a clog to hinder the endeavour of the

human spirit ever trying to get beyond it. The senses and

sense-knowledge were despised, and only behind the veil which it hung

athwart the soul was there that universe of things unseen and eternal

which More and Norris delighted to expatiate upon; or, if the senses did

in any dim and uncertain way reveal the invisible spiritual realities

longed for, it was because the soul, rising above them, put a divine

meaning into them, and revelled in the 'lusciousness of this inward

sense.' Such a hazy, unreal way of conceiving the spirit-life which he

believed to be the true reality, was distasteful to Berkeley. He wished

to keep to the spiritual intuition, which was the one good thing in

these mystical doctrines, but he wished to bring it out of dreamland,

and make it serviceable for every-day work and endeavour. Both More and

Norris dreamt of an Atlantis, and celebrated its praises in prose and

verse; Berkeley set sail for America to create the Utopia he had

visioned. More and Norris could only realise the spiritual intuition on

which they based their philosophy in an ecstatic contemplation, when

the soul is borne on the wings of meditation far beyond this world of

sensible things; Berkeley employs his spiritual intuition to account for

puzzles in vision, errors in mathematics, and the virtues of tar-water.

He wishes to mould and fashion, to give clearness and distinctness of

outline to the spiritual beliefs and intuitions of the mystics by

applying to them the _method_ of Locke and Bacon. He wishes to conserve

and give value to the fundamental truths which lie unshaped in the

scholastic Realism, by applying to them the clearness and methods of

Nominalism. This is, we believe, the key to Berkeley's life and

philosophy.

Let us try to show its application.

The English mystics were the reaction against a phase of the new

philosophy which had been so developed by Hobbes as to create a strong

counter opinion. This phase was the doctrine of an inert matter which is

so prominent in the writings of Descartes and Geulinx--matter, whose

distinguishing characteristic was extension, which was entirely void of

all power to act or to influence, and which was set up in opposition to

spirit, whose distinguishing characteristic or property was

consciousness. This theory of matter was so void of all real meaning

that the existence and properties of material substance became gradually

of less importance in a system of philosophy, and at length, as in

Malebranche and Norris, ceased to have any influence on their

speculations. It was outside their system, and of little or no account

in its explanation. Yet the very semblance of its presence prevented a

thorough-going attempt to explain the real meaning of reality, power,

and causality, and recourse is had to meditation and ecstasy instead of

to philosophical explanation and analysis. Locke's philosophy, on the

other hand, with its calm, experimental analysis of the facts of

knowledge, and its concentration of effort upon the senses and the

knowledge they supplied, had brought the mind of man back to facts, and

pointed to another path than that of vision or ecstasy, by which one

might ascend to the understanding of what is meant by the world of

things known and knowable. But if Locke is always judicious, he is never

deep. He solved the theory of substance more by ignoring than by

explaining it; and his Atomism, if one may call it so--his assertion

that all knowledge is of particulars, and particulars only--not only

turned him aside from any complete statement of causality, but forced

him into theories of abstract ideas or conceptions that seem

inconsistent with his own principles. When Locke had to account for the

fact that this, that, and the other, sensation of colour were felt to be

the same, he explains away this seeming contradiction to his favourite

doctrine that all knowledge is of particulars, by saying that there is

an abstract idea of whiteness framed from the particular ideas or

sensations. But the necessities of language, thought, and science

require that this abstract idea of whiteness must be as often, if not

oftener, before the mind than any one of the particular ideas out of

which it has been constructed, and thus the abstract idea is much more

important than the particular sensation. When Locke is called on to give

an account of our knowledge and its origin, his Atomism is always

brought forward; when he wishes to speak of truth, certainty, &c., he

cannot help paying more attention to abstract ideas. He thus figures two

worlds just as the mystics had done, the sensible and intelligible, and

while elevating the worth of the former, is inclined to make certainty,

demonstration, &c., belong to the latter.

Locke's theory of abstract ideas was an hypothesis to account for and

explain a really objective knowledge--that is, a knowledge which is true

for others as well as for the individual. Objectivity, in this simple

sense of the word, was a great difficulty in Locke's system. He had

reduced all our ideas to ideas of sense and of reflection. He had

insisted on the purely subjective origin of whatever is known. And at

the same time he had insisted that what was known in this way were

particular things and particulars only. He seems both in his account of

the origin of knowledge, and in his description of the things known, to

exclude the possibility of a knowledge common to several individuals at

once. Each man seems rather to be shut within the sphere of his own

ideas of sense and reflection about certain particular objects. But a

subjective theory of knowledge and things known cannot be maintained. It

would render all social intercourse impossible. There could be neither

language, propositions, nor even common nouns. And the theory of

abstract ideas is the way out of the difficulty. Now Berkeley, with his

strong spiritual intuition, regarded Locke's system of abstract ideas

very much as Aristotle, with his strong faith in progressive motion

towards a final end ([Greek: telos]), looked at Plato's ideal theory. It

was only reproduction, a shadowy reflection, a cold crystallization of

the world of sense ideas, and really did nothing to explain the life,

motion, and order of the sense-world, nor furnished us with a basis for

our real common or objective knowledge. We do not think that Berkeley

altogether appreciated Locke, nor fully recognised the use which he, as

well as Hobbes, had made of the doctrine of association of ideas, to

explain community of knowledge and objective certainty. For in Hobbes

and Locke we see the beginnings of that modern psychological theory

which, under the names of association of ideas and relativity of

knowledge, explain the existence, permanence, and objectivity of things

and classes of things by a manifold flow of phenomena. Ideas or

sensations, by rubbing themselves against consciousness, in various ways

coalesce into things, and things into those possibilities of

reproduction, intercourse, and communion which are represented by common

nouns. But Berkeley had been taught by the mystics to associate motion,

cause, and sensation with spirit or mind, and he could not see that

Locke's doctrine of association, so void of conscious life or personal

activity, might at least prove so nearly allied to his own doctrine of

causality that it might be called its external wrapping. And even if

Berkeley had seen this, we may excuse him from acknowledging what he

owed to Locke in this matter, and forcing into prominence, in opposition

to Locke's teaching, his intuition of direct spiritual agency, when we

find how the association theory has not freed us from the abstractions

which Berkeley dreaded, but still gives us such shadowy conceptions as

the 'unconditioned' of Hamilton, or the 'unknown cause' of Mill.

Berkeley admired Locke, and studied him carefully. His great aim was to

keep Locke's results, to retain Locke's philosophy, but to give it new

life. His philosophy was to be Lockianism stript of its notionalism, and

inspired in all its parts by that direct spiritual intuition which was

never absent from his mind. It was to be Locke's philosophy, with these

differences: the starting-point of the system was to be the human

self--the conscious _ego_--the type of all subsistence: and an

association theory producing a second world of abstract ideas was to be

supplanted by the continuous active causality of personal spirits; or,

more shortly, it was to be Locke's philosophy, with living personal

causality put instead of abstract ideas.[224]

If we take this as the fundamental thought in Berkeley's speculation we

find three stages of development in his philosophy. In his 'Common-place

Book,' and in the 'Principles,' he fancies, in his youthful fervour,

that he has only to strip Locke's philosophy of its notionalism and the

true system of metaphysics will appear. Hence his speculation in this

first period is mainly negative. It is a war against abstractions, and

his positive theories are more hinted at than explained. The second

period is revealed in his philosophical letters to Dr. Samuel Johnson.

He begins to find that there is more to be done in philosophy than to

extirpate abstract ideas, and inquires into the archetypes of things.

The third period is given us in 'Siris.' His philosophy has got deeper

and perhaps less dogmatic. He was won to the grand thought of an organic

universe of things, in which their whole is made for all the parts, and

every part for the whole, and for the other parts; so that the virtues

of tar-water are intimately connected by a multiform concatenation

with the constant presence and continual agency of the God in whom we

live and move and have our being. The first period in Berkeley's

speculation is, as we have said, mainly negative. It is a polemic

against abstract ideas in their various forms. The attack is earnest,

eager, but also impatient and inadequate. We have only hints at

construction. It seems as if he thought he had only to deny false modes

of explanation in order to state the right one, and his discussion

throughout bears the stamp of eagerness and impetuosity. It represents

the man who could say of those who doubted the success of his American

enterprise, 'that small-minded persons had a talent for objections.'

This period is represented in the 'New Theory of Vision,' 'The

Principles of Human Knowledge,' and 'The Dialogues between Hylas and

Philonous.' Its negative character may be due to accident. These three

works are confessedly an imperfect sketch of Berkeley's principles. The

'Theory of Vision' is a mere tentative introduction; the 'Principles,'

as we have them, are only the first part of a work which, if we are to

trust 'The Common-place Book,' was meant to include three parts, and was

published as Part I. The 'Dialogues' are only the 'reproduction of the

first part of the 'Principles of Human Knowledge.' They are all of them

imperfect expositions of Berkeley's speculative opinion. Taking them as

they are, however, let us endeavour to discover the fundamental thoughts

in each.

It has been for some time acknowledged that the essay towards A New

Theory of Vision is not to be summed up in the dictum that distance is

invisible. The invisibility of distance is the psychological basis of

the theory.[225] The work is rather the first blow in the attack upon

Locke's 'Doctrine of Abstract Ideas':--

'The treatise is, in short, a professed account count of

the facts, the whole facts, and nothing but the facts, of

which we are visually conscious, as distinguished from

pretended facts and metaphysical abstractions, which

confused thought, an irregular exercise of imagination, or

an abuse of words had substituted for them.'

The question which Berkeley really asks is--How do we universalize our

ideas of sight? The proper objects of sight are light and colours. How,

then, do we see distance, figure, size, situation, magnitude and

solidity? How can the sensation of green colour peculiar to my mind

stand for, not the mere sense-blur of vague green colour, but an oval

leaf fluttering in the wind some twenty feet above me, attached to the

twig of a beech tree! and, moreover, how can this sensation which

belongs to me so far belong to others that the same knowledge conveyed

to me is also given to them? How can the vague subjective sensation be

universalized so that it stands for several things not felt, and more

especially for sensations of touch? What is the link between these

various qualities? What is the bridge by which the mind passes over from

the one to the other? This link is _not_, says Berkeley, an _abstract

idea_ of extension, in which the visible and tangible sensations unite,

for there is no such idea. The sensations of sight and of touch are on

their side quite heterogeneous:--

'The extension, figures, and motions perceived by sight are

specifically distinct from the ideas of touch, called by

the same names; nor is there any such thing as one idea, or

kind of idea, common to both senses.'

Light and colour are the immediate objects of sight, and they constitute

a species entirely distinct from the ideas of touch. No one would think

of adding a visible foot to a tangible foot; and the experience of

persons born blind and recovering their sight points to a certain

confusedness in apprehending the connection between the two sets of

ideas which would not occur if they belonged to one and the same

abstract idea of extension. If we would explain the fact that ideas may

so be universalized that they stand for ideas of touch, we must rather

bring them under the living power of mind which, grasping the two

together, makes the one the sign of the other. When we have the

sensation of the colour greenness, we see a green leaf of a small oval

shape, not because the colour is necessarily connected with the size and

shape, nor because all three inhere as qualities in an abstract idea of

extension, but because:--

'Light and colours, with their several shades and degrees,

all which being infinitely diversified and combined, deform

a language wonderfully adapted to suggest and exhibit to us

the distances, figures, situations, dimensions, and various

qualities of tangible objects--not by similitude, nor yet

by inference of necessary connection, but by the arbitrary

imposition of Providence, just as words suggest the things

signified by them.'

There is no abstract idea which corresponds now to the sensations of

sight, now to the sensations of touch; the connecting link is supplied

by the unifying action of the human mind, which seizes upon the one idea

and makes it the sign of the others, and this one idea is fitted to be

the sign of the others not by any similarity or peculiar fitness on its

side, but because of its position in the flow of phenomena given to it

and preserved for it by the living spiritual causality which creates and

arranges everything. The ideas of sense are universalized, scientific

and objective knowledge is possible, we can go from ideas of sight to

those of touch, and back again from those of touch to those of sight,

because of a double spiritual influence--the active living influence of

mind outside, permeating, creating, and associating all things, and the

partly passive, partly active ingathering influence of the individual

human mind within, interpreting, arranging, according to the

associations imposed upon them and lying undeveloped in them, the vague

_blurs_ of sensation. Berkeley's thought is almost the same as

Schleiermacher's, that all scientific knowledge is the joint product of

an internal and an external factor--organic function and the external

world,--which factors are universally related to each other; only,

according to Berkeley's spiritual intuition, everywhere present; the

living centre of organic function is the partly passive, partly active

influence of the human self, while the living centre of the external

factor is the supreme mind without us continuously creating and

arranging.

The Principles of Human Knowledge follow up the attack on abstract ideas

made in the New Theory of Vision. The introduction, with its attack on

Conceptualism,[226] prepares the way for a more sweeping assault on

abstractions. Now Berkeley almost invariably attacks a general question

by making an assault on one special form which it takes. His method is

borrowed from Locke, who shows that all our ideas may be reduced to

ideas of sensation and reflection by selecting one or two most unlikely

to conform to such a reduction, and proving by analysis that they do.

Berkeley begins to attack the Lockian doctrine of abstract ideas by

showing that there is no abstract extension common to sight and touch;

he proves the providence of God by explaining the beauty and value of

the language of vision; and he exhibits the organism of the universe by

tracing the connection between the virtues of tar-water and the hidden

mysteries of things. He always seeks a concrete instance of the abstract

fact, and assails a particular case of the general principle he wishes

to attack. This method is carried out in the 'Principles.' He does not

assail the doctrine of abstract ideas in general, nor endeavour to strip

Lockianism of all its notionalism. He fastens on one particular abstract

idea, which because of its importance and prevailing influence may be

considered as the champion of the rest, and puts to flight the armies of

the Philistines by slaying their Goliath.

The sum and head of all abstract ideas is the idea of matter, as this

was used in the new philosophy of the seventeenth century. For what is

an abstract idea? It is a connecting link between sensations--something

to which they may be referred, in which they are supposed to inhere, and

which is thought to account for their permanence of objective reality.

For example, 'white' is a single quality or a single sensation felt by

me now and here when I look at a sheet of paper. But 'whiteness' is the

abstract idea to which all these single sensations may be referred, and

in which they may inhere and so have a permanence and objective reality,

so that this sheet of paper, because it has 'whiteness,' is always and

by every one seen to be 'white.' The abstract ideas of extension, of

situation, and of number, are examples which are supposed to be of more

importance, and to include a vastly larger number of individuals. Now

the one idea to which every sense-particular, without exception, may be

referred is the idea of matter or material substance. It gives them

permanence, reality, and objectivity. It is the germ, the centre, the

vital spot of the whole system of abstractions. Destroy it, and the

system perishes. Show that it is an illusion, a mere word,--that it can

give no reality, no permanence,--that it cannot afford a basis for

scientific knowledge nor community of belief, and the whole doctrine

which seeks to build science and reality on such a foundation

disappears, and on the ground thus cleared a more substantial, real, and

living structure of belief and opinion may be erected. This seems to be

the guiding thought in the 'Principles of Human Knowledge' and in the

'Dialogues.' It is mainly negative,--a denial of matter, and therefore

of all abstractions. But amidst the negative or destructive reasonings

there are traces, as there must be, of positive construction. The _one_

positive principle which is always present is that spiritual intuition

which we have already spoken of,--the all-pervading belief inherited

from the mystics, and particularly from Malebranche and Norris, that

mind or spirit is the one reality and the one fount of active agency.

But this intuition, always present, is never adequately expressed nor

applied. Berkeley either meant to reserve its discussion for another

'Part,' or his natural impatience made him overlook the necessity of

explaining the steps in his analysis of all _reality_ into personal

spirit, and all _causality_ into the conscious activity of such personal

spirits. He is always confused, hesitating, and sometimes conflicting in

his statements about the way in which 'mind' becomes the only real

existence, and the 'activity of mind' the only real agency; and it is in

the skill with which he has pierced together the scattered hints into

one really complete and so far adequate explanation of the universe of

things that Professor Fraser's unwearied patient study and just

appreciation of his author is seen to most advantage.

Our experience as given us in the senses is made up 'of sensations,

ideas, or phenomena,--facts of which there is a perception or

consciousness.' These sensations, and nothing else, make the material of

the sensible universe which we see and know and live in,--they are the

material out of which the shifting scenes in this wonderful panorama of

sense-life are formed,--they are the exciting causes of all the various

forms of our mental life, of our joy and sorrow, laughter and tears,

hopes and despairings. When we are conscious of the outward world, it is

of a world of sensations which is _immediately_ present to our minds and

in our minds; for the essence of an idea or sensation is that it is

perceived,--its _esse_ is _percipi_. But this is not the whole of

Berkeley's theory of matter, as many critics would have us believe.

There is along with this 'immediate perception of extended sensible

reality' a 'mediate perception or a presumptive inference of the

existence of sensible things and their relations.' The knowledge we have

of the external world of the senses cannot be reduced to the sensations

of which we are actually conscious for the time being. There are,

besides the sensations immediately present, clustering groups of others

which we do not immediately perceive. Tangible things are signified by

visual sensations, and sounds recall colours and shapes. Every isolated

sensation is significant of more than itself, and _mere_ sensation is

impossible. And this significance of sensations, the reality of their

_relations_ to each other, recognised and insisted upon by Berkeley,

makes his scheme different from any system of merely subjective

idealism, and supplies a basis for objective or scientific knowledge.

'For,' as Professor Fraser says, 'faith in an established or external

association between our sense-phenomena is the basis of the constructive

activity of intellect in all inductive interpretation of sensible

things.' It is this 'external,' or imposed association, which

_universalizes_ and gives objective existence to sensations and the

sense-world, and so far Berkeley's explanation does not differ very much

from that of Mr. Mill or Professor Bain.

But then, what is Berkeley's 'association'? It is, as Professor Fraser

well puts it, 'his religious faith in the constancy of the Divine

constitution of the Cosmos.' The associative relations of things which

give permanence and objective reality and intelligibility to the world

of sense-phenomena are not to be explained by any hap-hazard

one-coming-after-another, as modern psychologists do. They are due to

the active agency of the Supreme Mind which links sensations together in

ways of His own, so that there exists, not a chaos of varying, changing

phenomena, but an orderly intelligible system of sense things,

co-existing and successive, significant of each other, and all together

making the interpretable language of Him whose designs they embody, and

by whose constant activity they are all maintained. 'And thus,' as

Professor Fraser has beautifully expressed it:--

'The only conceivable and practical, and for us the only

possible, substantiality in the material world

is--permanence of co-existence or aggregation among

sensations; and the only conceivable and practical, and for

us the only possible, causality among phenomena

is--permanence or invariableness among their successions.

These two are almost (but not quite) one. The actual or

conscious co-existence of all the sensations which

constitute a particular tree, or a particular mountain,

cannot be simultaneously realized. A few co-existing visible

signs, for instance, lead us to expect that the many other

sensations of which the tree is the virtual co-constituent

would gradually be perceived by us, if the conditions for

our having actual sensations of all the other qualities were

fulfilled. The substantiality and causality of matter thus

resolve into a Universal Sense-symbolism, the interpretation

of which is the office of physical science. The material

world is a system of interpretable signs, dependent for its

actual existence in sense upon the sentient mind of the

interpreter; but significant of guaranteed pains and

pleasures, and the guaranteed means of avoiding and

attaining pains and pleasures: significant too of other

minds, and their thoughts, feelings, and volitions; and

significant above all of Supreme Mind, through whose

Activity the signs are sustained, and whose Archetypal Ideas

are the source of those universal or invariable relations of

theirs which make them both practically and scientifically

significant or objective. The permanence and efficiency

attributed to Matter is in God--in the constitutive

Universals of Supreme Mind: sensations or sense-given

phenomena themselves, and sensible things, so far as they

consist of sensations, can be neither permanent nor

efficient; they are in constant flux. This indeed is from

the beginning the tone of Berkeley himself--much deepened in

"Siris."'

In Berkeley's earlier philosophy, and even in his later, this grand

conception of an orderly universe permeated and ever upheld by mind, is

by no means fully or consistently worked out, as Professor Fraser

himself acknowledges. The starting-point itself is somewhat confused.

Berkeley starts with sensations. But the universe is not a universe of

sensations, but of sensible things, and although the formula _esse est

percipi_ will at once explain the meaning of a sensation, it will not,

without some argument and explanation, account for the meaning of a

sensible thing. Berkeley did not sufficiently recognise the difference,

and he leaped to a conclusion which, however right, should have been

reasoned out. A whole is not the aggregate number of its parts, it is

the sum of the parts _plus_ their being placed together. There is a

difference between a house and a heap of stones. Now Berkeley did not

seem to see this, at least in his earlier philosophy. Tangible distance

was to him a series of _minima tangibilia_, a series of tactual points;

visible distance a series of _visible points_, and that only. Whereas,

distance is really the sensible points _plus_ their arrangement. The

sensible thing is really the complex of sensations _plus_ their

unification. We are not disposed to believe with Professor Ueberweg[227]

that this oversight amounted to a begging of the whole question, we hold

with Professor Fraser that there is only a little confusion in

apprehending the problem aright, and a rashness in leaping to a

conclusion which should rather have been elaborated and proved. Berkeley

thought, as Professor Fraser says, that 'the consciousness of my own

permanence, amid the changes in my senses, is the only archetype, in my

experience, of proper substance or permanence; and apart from this

experience, permanence or substance is an unintelligible word.' His

thought was not substantially distinct from Dr. Ueberweg's own,--who

says[228] 'that individual intuitions gradually arise out of the

original _blur_ of perception, when man first begins to recognise

himself an individual essence in opposition to the external world,' and

who elsewhere[229] makes the notion of self the type of the essence of

things. That unique thing called 'self' or 'I' is the only real

permanent unity known, and is therefore the type of all permanence and

unity elsewhere. The _esse_ or the essence which gives shape and

endurance to fleeting formless sensations is mind--my mind or the

Supreme Mind. It is the _percipi_, _being perceived_, or coming under

the formative influence of mind, which gives to a series of sensations

that unity which we can call 'distance,' that shape and unity to the

cluster of sensations which we call 'leaf' that orderly series

arrangement and permanence which we call the system of things. The

action of mind upon sensations, forming and arranging them, is not

discussed by Berkeley. He contents himself with his vague spiritual

intuition, and leaves his readers to work out his meaning. It does seem

clear to us, however, both from his references to the archetypes of

ideas in the 'Principles of Human Knowledge,' and more especially from

his interesting discussions on the native archetypes of ideas in his

letters to Johnson, that he did not altogether overlook the distinction

between mere complexes of sensations and sensible things; but that he

was sensible of this distinction, and wished to explain that the complex

of sensations was transformed into an orderly stable sensible thing by

the unifying formative mind putting as it were its stamp upon it.[230]

It was undoubtedly a hindrance to the completeness of Berkeley's

thoughts that he had no clear and distinct scheme of ethical relations

before his mind when he was investigating the relations between mind

and phenomena. It is true that, as Professor Fraser says, 'the moral

presumption of our individual free and proper agency is obscurely

involved in Berkeley's philosophy of sense from the first.' But the

ethical relations of the individual human spirit were nowhere clearly

seen, and were not made its leading and peculiar characteristic. It was

reserved for Kant to place the moral relations of these individuals and

their significance in the world of things in due prominence, and it has

been easier for men such as Schleiermacher and Herman Lotze, who have

come after Kant, and who have maintained a doctrine of the spiritual

relations which exist in and give order, cohesion, and permanence to the

universe, not unlike Berkeley's, to develop the doctrine of these

relations so far as the human spirit goes, and give more thoroughness

and completeness to the scheme. We may conceive Berkeley carefully

working out the double relation of human to divine spirit, and finding

in the sensible universe the veil which hangs between, not merely the

orderly and pregnant language of the Creator Spirit to be interpreted

and made intelligible by the creature spirit, but also the shadowy

reflection of the working of the Creator towards the creature, and of

the striving of the creature towards the Creator. Each thing, class,

order, genus, and race, with all its relations to all the other parts of

the vast order of things, filling the place in the organism in which the

Creator placed it, acting, influencing, and ruling, according to its

function and place in the arrangement of the whole; just as the

individual, or class, or nation fulfils, or ought to fulfil, the ethical

duties which its hands find to do, so that the universe, in all its

spheres of animate and inanimate life, of organic and inorganic bodies,

becomes in its mutual action and reaction, as Schleiermacher says, a

'fainter ethic.'

Berkeley approaches this in his greatest metaphysical work, the 'Siris.'

It is here that the thought of organism or development in things and in

the universe, which comes in occasionally in his earlier writings, is

more fully expressed and even elaborated. The very name suggests it, the

book is a _chain_ of philosophical reflections and inquiries. Faithful

to the method of his younger days, Berkeley takes a concrete instance of

the concatenation of nature. He discourses on the virtues of tar-water,

and thoughts on these lead up to the highest mysteries of the universe.

But when we divest the thoughts of this particular form, we have such a

system of the universe as Bacon working with Plotinus might have

conceived. The centre source and light of all is the One Supreme

Spirit--the personal omnipresent God in whom we and all things live and

more and have our being. The universe is his reflection, it represents

his thoughts, it is the revelation of his mind and will, it is his

language. But the old puzzling word 'arbitrary' has disappeared, and

this language of nature is seen to depend upon great laws and to be

capable of interpretation because so dependent. The esse of sensation

and of the sense-world generally, is still _percipi_, but the ambiguity

lying in the word is carefully distinguished. On the one hand all things

are dependent on the creative and upholding influence of the Supreme

Spirit. He it is that, making all things after their _kinds_, sends

forth and sustains the archetypes of things. On the other hand, the

fleeting sense-world is framed and shaped by the individual mind into

the universe of things, in accordance with the divine ideas or

archetypes which lie hidden in it. There is a double meaning in the

phrase, _esse_ is _percipi_. It means both that these ideas are

dependent for the possibility of existence on the divine thoughts, or

archetypes whose sensible shadows they are, and also that all sensible

things are dependent for their particular formation and position on the

formative powers of the human mind, which works in each man by general

laws of human intelligence, in accordance with and for the discovery of

the divine ideas lying immanent in things. And thus human knowledge is a

reproduction, or discovery and representation of the thoughts which the

divine creative thinking has built into things;[231] human science is a

presaging or reading of the letters and words of nature which manifest

its order and harmony, in the faith and expectancy that this same order

and harmony now prevailing, because it depends on the divine ideas of

the Creator, is fixed and enduring;[232] and the 'proper name of this

world is Spirit--free immortal Spirit--Spirit in communication with

Spirit--Spirit in dependence on and in reconciliation, through Christ,

with the one absolute Spirit--God.'[233]

British Quarterly Review, American Edition, Vol. LIII January and April, 1871 · 第 41 / 51 题