hither to report the unrecorded wonders of a fresh continent, to examine its natural features, direct its policy, assert the claims of discovery and supremacy, minister to its wants, and do battle for its liberties. To the eye of the philosopher and the hero of Europe, this has ever been the land of infinite possibilities; here scope was yielded to enterprise and thought, to courage and ambition, to usefulness and faith, when their development elsewhere was checked by tyranny, overgrown population, conventionalism, exhausted means, and despotic prejudice. The obstacles thus impending on the one side of the ocean, and the free range open on the other, gave extraordinary impulse, not only to the latent forces of society, but to those of individual character. Hence the new phases of life, and the salient evolutions of opinion and effort, discoverable in the memoirs of the first transatlantic visitors. Their history contains some of the noblest and the most despicable exhibitions of human nature; all that is generous and base in character, chivalry and selfishness, the high-minded and the rapacious, the benefactor and the foe of mankind,alternate in the chronicle; science and bigotry, philanthropy and avarice, the saint and the ruffian, stand out upon the virgin page of our primitive annals, the more distinctly and impressively because of the solitary back-ground of an unsettled country, and the limitless perspective of its subsequent growth.

The annalist finds, in each company of Europeans who originally explored the forests and navigated the streams of America, a representative man around whom the colony or roving band is grouped on the uncrowded canvas of our early history; and the difference of nation, aim, and faith, is indicated at a glance by their very names. What varied associations and opposite elements of character are suggested by the figures thus delineated, of De Soto and Penn, Lord Baltimore and Hendrick Hudson, Roger Williams and Father Marquette! When the zeal for gain and the enthusiasm of adventure and religion had somewhat declined, liberal curiosity and humane sympathies influenced another class of men to seek our shores. The noble volunteers from abroad who rallied under the standard of Washington occupy the most honored place on this magnanimous roll,- Lafayette, Steuben, Pulaski, and their brave compeers; and when peace regained

her empire consecrated by freedom, the champions of science and truth began to turn their aspirations in the same direction,— some urged by persecution, and others by the ardor of discovery and beneficence. Priestley, after the destruction of his laboratory by a Birmingham mob, brought hither the fearless spirit of inquiry and experiment that inspired his ingenious mind; Volney turned his sceptical gaze from the decaying monuments of the Elder World, to primeval nature in the New; Whitefield breathed here. the eloquent appeals that had previously kindled the English dissenters; Humboldt came to take the altitude of our mountains; Michaux, to wander with delight through our glorious woodlands; Cobbet, to publish without restraint his political and economical maxims; Wilson, to give names to the feathered tribe; and Chateaubriand, to make the pilgrimage of a poet to the Falls of Niagara; Copley came to set up his easel in Boston, and delineate our colonial aristocracy in their velvet coats, lace ruffles, huge wigs, and brocade robes; Talleyrand, Moreau, and Louis Philippe, found a temporary shelter from persecution among us, and a primitive simplicity of manners and government which contrasted strangely with the old régime of their native courts and armies; Genet vainly attempted to graft a radical disaffection on the yet tender institutions of our republic; Emmet brought the forensic eloquence of the Irish bar and the patriot regrets of an exile; Joseph Bonaparte, the philosophic content of a kindly heart, weary the "smooth barbarity" of regal care; and Francis Jeffrey was drawn hither by the tender passion, and made New York diningrooms familiar with the complacent sprightliness of an Edinburgh critic. Then succeeded the swarm of cockney travellers, whose egotistical comments proved so annoying to the sensitive pride of embryo nationality; and after them the ephemeral race of lions,

of

authors and actors, who often proved so recreant to the memory of a public appreciation too frank and hospitable for their merits, itinerant lecturers, pretentious strangers, fastidious pilgrims, whose casual triumph was followed by enduring contempt; and interspersed with these, men of higher faculty and less selfish aims, worthy ministers at the altar of knowledge, who observed the phenomena of our development with the insight of philosophy and the sentiment of humanity, such as the lamented Spurz

heim, the candid Lyell, and the analytical De Tocqueville. It is, indeed, a curious study and an amusing experiment, thus to compare the impressions of the illustrious visitors to America, from Charlevoix's quaint travels to Tom Moore's lampoons and "Lake of the Dismal Swamp," and from Kossuth's speeches to Thackeray's table-talk.

Among the traces yet discoverable of the American sojourn of celebrated individuals during the youth of the country, none are more pleasing, or more worthy of commemoration, than those which yet keep fresh the memory of George Berkeley. He is known to the multitude chiefly by the frequent quotation of his prophetic stanza, and by one of those terse, compliments with which the heroics of Pope abound. It is, therefore, a grateful task to recall the details of his life and the prominent traits of his character, associated as they are with a public spirit and generous projects, of which, for many years, this land was the chosen scene.

When Shaftesbury, in phrases of studied elegance, was advocating a modified Platonic system, and Bishop Sherlock represented the eloquence of the church; when Swift's pungent satire ruled in politics, and Pope's finished couplets were the exemplars of poetry; when Sir Robert Walpole's ministry and Queen Caroline's levees were the civic and social features of the day, there moved, in the circles of literature, of state, and of religious fellowship, one of those men to whom, by virtue of their guileless spirit and ingenious minds, their sweet repose of character, gentle manners, and speculative tendency, we instinctively give the name of philosopher. Amid the partisan bitterness and critical rivalry of that era, a contemplative habit and kindly heart offer a refreshing contrast to the more aspiring and malevolent elements in society. A rare dignity and a potent charm invest the memory of the peaceful and disinterested enthusiast. He purifies the turbid stream of intellectual life, and hallows the pursuit of fame. Of this class of men was George Berkeley, who was born at Kilerinin, Ireland, March 12th, 1684. The period embraced in his life was one of great political activity and scientific achievement. He occupied at the school on the Ormond foundation at Kilkenny, the form where, shortly before, Swift had studied.

Locke, Leibnitz, Bayle, and Sir Isaac Newton, died between his childhood and his mature fame.

His countenance was remarkably expressive of intellect and benevolence. His strength of limbs was unusual; his constitution was naturally robust, though gradually impaired by the inactivity of a student's life; and an ardent temperament animated his frame and manner, and enhanced the effect of his candid disposition and attractive intellect. To these obvious charms were united the confidence inspired by his integrity and his liberal sympathies, and the respect cherished for his learning and piety. His life was comparatively uneventful; its interest is derived almost wholly from his character and opinions; yet his lot was cast at a period and among influences singularly favorable to the gratification of his tastes and the exercise of his powers. To a childhood passed in Ireland we ascribe, at least, a degree of the frank warmth of feeling and the imaginative zest which endeared him to contemporaries. The suspicion of Jacobite opinions, the unfavorable effect of which upon Lord Galway was diverted by Molyneux, a former pupil, seems first to have directed public attention to his merits. After becoming a fellow of Trinity College, Dublin, he enjoyed the benefit of foreign travel, as companion to a son of the Bishop of Clogher; and soon afterwards received the appointment of chaplain to the Duke of Grafton, lord-lieutenant of Ireland. Through Sir Richard Steele he became known to the Earl of Peterborough, who took him to Italy as chaplain. On his promotion to the deanery of Derry, in 1724, he resigned his fellowship. He subsequently visited America on his self-imposed mission, returned to become Bishop of Cloyne, and died at Oxford, whither he had repaired to superintend the education of his sons, in 1753. To learning and benevolence his whole existence was devoted. He illustrated the sentiments of Christianity more by his example as a man than by his functions as a priest; and, throughout his career, he was a vigilant observer of nature, a patient student of books, a minister to the wants of his race, an earnest seeker for psychological truth, and a delightful specimen of the genuine Christian philosopher.

Berkeley's metaphysical opinions are known under the generic

title of the "Ideal Theory," according to which "the belief in an exterior material world is false and inconsistent with itself; those things which are called sensible, material objects are not external, but exist in the mind by the immediate act of God, according to certain rules, termed laws of nature, from which he never deviates; and that the steady adherence of the Supreme Spirit to these rules is what constitutes the reality of things to his creatures; and so effectually distinguishes the ideas perceived by sense from such as are the work of the mind itself, or of dreams, and there is no more danger of confounding them together on this hypothesis than that of the existence of matter." "It is an opinion," he observes, in "The Principles of Human Knowledge," "strongly prevailing among men, that houses, mountains, rivers, and, in a word, all sensible objects, have an existence natural, real, distinct from their being perceived by the understanding. What are the forementioned objects but the things we perceive by sense, and what do we perceive beside our own ideas and sensations? All those bodies which compose the mighty frame of the world have not any subsistence without a mind." The germ of this philosophy appears in Berkeley's "Theory of Vision," which has been aptly described as illustrating "the immediate presence and providence of the Deity," and as "a practical apprehension of idealism." Stewart assimilates it with the theories of Hindoo philosophers, who, according to Sir William Jones, thought "the whole creation was rather an energy than a work, by which the Infinite Mind, who is present at all times and in all places, exhibits to his creatures a set of perceptions like a wonderful picture, or a piece of music, always varied, yet always uniform." The practical effect of such views, in the opinion of some of Berkeley's opponents, is in the highest degree baneful; and Bishop Hoadley thought they "corrupted the nature and simplicity of religion by blending it with the subtlety and obscurity of metaphysics." The singular purity of Berkeley's faith, and the integrity of his character, in the opinion of some of his religious friends, could alone have furnished an antidote for the bane of his philosophical doctrines.

Berkeley is recognized by standard psychological writers as having contributed a positive and brilliant truth to their science