duly attended or done justice to the pertinacity with which Berkeley adheres to the facts of vision cut off from all the other knowledge of which our other senses are the inlets. In studying the science of vision, the eye of his mind has not been "single"; and hence his mind has not been "full of light." He does not himself appear to have experimentally verified the pure facts of the virgin eye as yet unwedded to the touch. He has not formed to himself a clear conception of the absolute distinction between these two senses and their respective objects—a distinction upon the clear apprehension of which the whole intelligibility of Berkeley's assertions and reasonings depends.
In proof of what we aver, let us turn to the consideration of one fact which Berkeley has largely insisted on as the fundamental fact of the science. Colour, says the Bishop, is the proper and only object of vision, and the outness of this object (i.e., its outness from the eye) is not perceived by sight. Upon which Mr Bailey, disputing the truth of the latter fact, remarks,—"On turning to Berkeley's essay, we find literally no arguments which specifically apply to this question; nothing but bare assertion repeated in various phrases." This is undoubtedly too true—and perhaps Berkeley is to be condemned for having left his assertion so destitute of the support of reasoning. But he saw that he had stated a fact which he himself had verified, and perhaps he did not think it necessary to prove it to those who had eyes to see it
