the most foolhardy assailant. But the horn was far less formidable than it looked. Berkeley had already thrown himself upon it, and though he did not find it to be exactly a cushion of down, he was not one whit damaged in the encounter. "I follow," says he, embracing the first of the alternatives, "I follow the instincts and prepossessions of nature. I assent to the veracity of sense, and I believe that the very perception or sensible image is the external object, and on no account whatever will I consent 'to disclaim this principle.' Your philosophy, your more rational opinions, your system of representation, your reasonings which, you say, necessitate me to depart from my primary instincts, all these I give, without reservation, to the winds. And now, what do you make of me?"[1] And if he had answered
- ↑ Vide Berkeley's Works, vol. i. pp. 182, 200, 203.—If the anachronism were no objection, a very happy and appropriate motto for Berkeley's works would be—
" Spernit Humum fugiente penna."
—Horace, Od. iii. 2, 24.David Hume, however, was a very great man—great as a historian, as every one admits; but greater still as a philosopher; for it is impossible to calculate what a blank, but for him, the whole speculative science of Europe for the last seventy years would have been. If the reader wishes to see the character of his writings, and the scope of the sceptical philosophy fairly appreciated, we beg to refer him to an article in the 'Edinburgh Review' (Vol. LII. p. 196 ct seq., Art. "Philosophy of Perception"), written by Sir William Hamilton, and which, in our opinion, contains more condensed thought and more condensed learning than are to be found in any similar number of pages in our language, on any subject whatever. It gives us great pleasure to see that the writings of this distinguished philosopher, extracted
