Sicilian legation; and he started at once with Lord Peterborough for Sicily. This was the first of a series of long visits to the Continent. His journals and letters of this time are preserved—replete with careful observations upon men and things, relieved with much sprightliness and humour. As yet the taste for Alpine scenery had not been developed in the human breast. He speaks of Savoy as "a perpetual chain of rocks and mountains, almost impassable for ice and snow. And yet I rode post through it, and came off with only four falls, from which I received no other damage than breaking my sword, my watch, and my snuff-box." On his return to England in 1720, his gentle nature was shocked and astounded at the excitement concerning the South Sea scheme, and his feelings found vent in An Essay towards preventing the Ruin of Great Britain. His conviction, therein expressed, that the civilization of the Old World was effete, had a considerable influence on his after life. The conclusions he arrived at were, that if society was to be saved at all it must be by the persons who composed it becoming individually industrious, frugal, public-spirited, and religious. In August 1721, he returned to Dublin as chaplain to the Duke of Grafton, Lord-Lieutenant. He was still Junior Fellow in Trinity, leave having been freely granted him, through court influence, for his long absences, during one of which the degree of D.D. had been conferred upon him. The deanery of Dromore and other appointments were now given to him. In May 1723, Esther Van Homrigh (Swift's "Vanessa") died, and left Berkeley, to his astonishment, £4,000, nearly half her property. She had altered her will after her quarrel with Swift in 1720. Her knowledge of Berkeley must have been chiefly by reputation; for although he had been living close to her for nearly two years, it is stated that he had not seen her once. Next year he was installed Dean of Derry, then one of the richest preferments in the Irish Church. What was the amazement of all his friends, when within six months he went to London, declaring his heart ready to break if his deanery were not taken from him. He had conceived the idea that it was his duty to emigrated, and establish a college in Bermuda for the civilization of America—the glories of Europe were past, the hopes of the future rested in the New World. He immediately published Proposals embodying his plans; he pictured the inhabitants as "a contented, plain, innocent sort of people;" the country, "a land of blue skies, rich fruits, coral strands." His lines on the Prospect of Planting Arts and Learning in America contain one that may be said to be immortal:—
Westward the course of empire wings its way.
After some years' labour, and exertions to inspire others with his enthusiasm, he procured a charter for a college; about £5,000 was promised private subscriptions; Sir. R. Walpole, on an address of the Commons, promised £20,000 more, and Berkeley threw the whole of his own private means into the undertaking, besides relinquishing all his lucrative preferments. Now for a time he lived privately in the outskirts of Dublin, and in August 1728 married Anne Foster, daughter of the Speaker of the Irish House of Commons. "All that one can now discover of Mrs. Berkeley makes her worthy of her husband. She shared his fortunes when he was about to engage in one of the most romantic moral movements of modern times, and when, in love with an ideal academic life in the Bermudas, he was prepared to surrender preferment and social position at home, in order to devote the remainder of his life to the great continent of the west." The following month they sailed from Gravesend in a 250-ton vessel he had chartered. Besides his wife and another lady, he was accompanied by some friends, who, imbued with his enthusiasm, had give up all to assist him in his philanthropic scheme. The was was a long one, of four months. It was not until the 23rd January 1729, that they cast anchor at Newport, Rhode Island. A few months after his arrival he brought a farm of ninety-six acres in a sequestered spot in Rhode Island, built a commodious house, which he called Whitehall, purchased slaves, and settled down to a life of retirement. It is said that he brought a very extensive library with him. The money for the undertaking, promised by Government, was not forthcoming, and visions of college and his possible influence over the destinies of America appear to have gradually faded away. He built his house in a valley, declaring: "To enjoy what is to be seen from the hill, I must visit it only occasionally; if the prospect were constantly in a view, it would lose its charm." His residence of nearly three years in Rhode Island was perhaps the happiest portion of his life. More than one child was to him there. At length, when it was evident that there was no chance of the government grant, he returned home, leaving his farm to Yale College, as an endowment for the encouragement of Greek and Latin scholarship. His house on Rhode Islands still stands.
