that consequently opinions repugnant to each other cannot be true but I think it will not hence follow they are all alike false. If among various opinions about the same thing one be grounded on clear and evident reasons, that is to be thought true, and others only so far as they consist with it. Reason is the same, and rightly applied will lead to the same conclusions in all times and places. ALC. But still it would be a satisfaction if all men thought the same way, difference of opinions implying uncertainty. EUPH. Tell me, Alciphron, what you take to be the cause of a lunar eclipse. ALC. The shadow of the earth interposing between the sun and the moon. EUPH. Are you assured of this? ALC. Undoubtedly. EUPH. Are all mankind agreed in this truth? ALC. By no means. Ignorant and barbarous people assign different ridiculous causes to this appearance. EUPH. It seems, then, there are different opinions about the nature of an eclipse. ALC. There are. EUPH. And nevertheless one of these opinions is true. ALC. It is. EUPH. Diversity, therefore, of opinions about a thing doth not hinder but that the thing may be, and one of the opinions concerning it may be true. ALC. I acknowledge it.-BERKELEY.

CCCXXXIV

In the meantime Alciphron and Lysicles, having despatched what they went about, returned to us. Lysicles sate down where he had been before. But Alciphron stood over against us, with his arms folded across, and his head reclined on his left shoulder, in the posture of a man meditating. We sate silent not to disturb his thoughts; and after two or three minutes he uttered these words: 'Oh truth! oh liberty!' after which he remained musing as before. Upon this Euphranor took the freedom to interrupt him. Alciphron, said he, it is not fair to spend your time in soliloquies. The conversation of learned and knowing men is rarely met with in this corner, and the opportunity you have put into my

hands I value too much not to make the best use of it. ALC. Are you then in earnest a votary of truth, and is it possible you should bear the liberty of a fair inquiry? EUPH. It is what I desire of all things. ALC. What! upon every subject upon the notions you first sucked in with your milk, and which have been ever since nursed by parents, pastors, tutors, books, and such methods of prepossessing men's minds? EUPH. I love information upon all subjects that come in my way, especially upon those that are most important. ALC. If, then, you are in earnest, hold fair, and stand firm, while I probe your prejudices and extirpate your principles :

Dum veteres avias tibi de pulmone revello.

BERKELEY.

CCCXXXV

HYLAS. What say you to this? Since, according to you, men judge of the reality of things by their senses, how can a man be mistaken in thinking the moon a plain lucid surface, about a foot in diameter, or a square tower, seen at a distance, round; or an oar, with one end in the water, crooked? PHILONOUS. He is not mistaken with regard to the ideas he actually perceives; but in the inferences he makes from his present perceptions. Thus in the case of the oar, what he immediately perceives by sight is certainly crooked; and so far he is right. But if he thence conclude that upon taking the oar out of the water he shall perceive the same crookedness; or that it would affect his touch, as crooked things are wont to do in that he is mistaken. In like manner, if he shall conclude from what he perceives in one station, that in case he advances toward the moon or tower, he should still be affected with the like ideas, he is mistaken. But his mistake lies not in what he perceives immediately and at present, but in the wrong judgment he makes concerning the ideas he apprehends to be connected with those immediately perceived: or concerning the ideas that, from what he perceives at present, he imagines would be perceived in other circumstances.-BERKELEY.

CCCXXXVI

Having heard these words, Euphranor looked at Crito and me, and said, smiling, I have mistaken my part; it was mine to learn, and his to instruct. Then, addressing himself to Lysicles, Deal faithfully, said he, and let me know whether the public benefit of vice be in truth that which makes you plead for it? LYS. I love to speak frankly what I think. Know, then, that private interest is the first and principal consideration with philosophers of our sect. Now of all interests pleasure is that which hath the strongest charms, and no pleasures like those which are heightened and enlivened by licence. Herein consists the peculiar excellency of our principles, that they show people how to serve their country by diverting themselves, causing the two streams of public spirit and self-love to unite and run in the same channel. I have told you already that I admit a nation might subsist by the rules of virtue. But give me leave to say it will barely subsist in a dull, joyless, insipid state, whereas the sprightly excesses of vice inspire men with joy; and where particulars rejoice, the public, which is made up of particulars, must do so too-that is, the public must be happy. This I take to be an irrefragable argument. But to give you its full force, and make it as plain as possible, I will trace things from their original.-BERKELEY.

CORRESPONDENCE

CCCXXXVII

SWIFT TO POPE.

I would describe to you my way of living, if any method could be called so in the country. I choose my companions among those of least consequence and most compliance: I

read the most trifling books I can find, and whenever I write it is upon the most trifling subjects. But riding, walking, and sleeping take up eighteen of the twenty-four hours. I procrastinate more than I did twenty years ago, and have several things to finish which I put off to twenty years hence. I send you the compliments of a friend of yours, who hath passed four months this summer with two grave acquaintance at his country-house, without ever once going to Dublin, which is but eight miles distant; yet when he returns to London, I will engage you shall find him as deep in the court of requests, the park, the operas, and the coffee-house, as any man there. I am now with him for a few days.

CCCXXXVIII

POPE TO SWIFT.

I have every day wished to write to you, to say a thousand things; and yet, I think, I should not have writ to you now, if I was not sick of writing anything, sick of myself, and (what is worse) sick of my friends too. The world is become too busy for me; everybody is so concerned for the public, that all private enjoyments are lost or disrelished. I write more to show you I am tired of this life than to tell you anything relating to it. I live as I did, I think as I did, I love you as I did; but all these are to no purpose; the world will not live, think, or love as I do. I am troubled for and vexed at all my friends by turns. Here are some whom you love, and who love you; yet they receive no proofs of that affection from you, and they give none of it to you. There is a great gulf between. In earnest, I would go a thousand miles by land to see you, but the sea I dread. My ailments are such, that I really believe a sea-sickness would kill me; and if I did not die of that, I must of the excessive eating and drinking of your hospitable town, and the excessive flattery of your most poetical country. I hate to be crammed either

way. Let your hungry poets and your rhyming poets digest it, I cannot. I like much better to be abused and half-starved than to be over-praised and over-fed.

CCCXXXIX

SYDNEY SMITH TO MR. FLETCHER.

I am truly glad that any effort of mine in the cause of liberality and freedom meets with your approbation. You have lived a life of honour and honesty, truckling to no man, and disguising no opinion you entertained. I think myself much honoured by your praise. I will take care you have a copy of my speech as soon as I return to Foston from York, where I am now staying for a short course of noise, bad air, and dirt.

My letter is by this time nearly out of print: a thousand copies have disappeared, and I am printing another thousand; and I will take care you have one from the author, as a mark of his sincere regard and respect.

God bless you, my dear sir! I wish you a fertile garden, a warm summer, limbs without pain, and a tranquil mind. The remembrance of an honourable and useful life you have secured for yourself already.

CCCXL

You say you carried away regret from Cloyne. I assure you that you did not carry it all away: there was a good share of it left with us; which was on the following news-day increased upon hearing the fate of your niece. My wife could not read this piece of news without tears, though her knowledge of that amiable young lady was no more than one day's acquaintance. Her mournful widower is beset with many temporal blessings: but the loss of such a wife must be long felt through them all. Complete happiness is not to be