Berkeley Newsletter

Number 7	1984
Second edition

Editors:

E. J. Furlong and David Berman
Philosophy Department, Trinity College, Dublin

Contents

Kenneth P. Winkler: The Authorship of Guardian 69	   1
Bertil Belfrage: Dating Berkeley’s Notebook B	   7
Discussion:
Désirée Park: Facts and reasons concerning Berkeley’s reprinted Works	 14
Bertil Belfrage: Facts concerning Berkeley’s Notebooks	 17
Reviews:
David Berman: J. C. Stephens, ed. The Guardian	 23
J. A. Faris: C. M. Turbayne, ed. Berkeley, Critical and Interpretive Essays	 26
Recent Articles on Berkeley	 33
Berkeley Tercentenary 1985 	 34
Recent Books on Berkeley 	 34

© Contributors 1984

The Berkeley Newsletter is sponsored by
the Royal Irish Academy, the International Berkeley Society
and the Philosophy Department, Trinity College, Dublin

The Authorship of
Guardian 69
Kenneth P. Winkler
Wellesley College, Massachusetts

David Berman has discovered powerful new evidence  — a published attribution by Berkeley’s friend Samuel Johnson — that Berkeley is the author of Guardian no. 69.1 Two facts combine to make Johnson’s attribution striking. First, Johnson had a perfect opportunity to learn of the essay’s authorship from Berkeley himself. Johnson’s reading list shows that he read the Guardian for the first time in late 1729, when Berkeley was living in Rhode Island, and the two men were conducting their “Philosophical Correspondence.”2 Between 1728 and 1730 Johnson was reading as much of Berkeley’s work as he could lay his hands on; it is hard to believe that he would have missed the reference to Berkeley in the preface to the Guardian, or failed to ask Berkeley which essays were by him. Second, Johnson’s attribution is straightforward and unhesitating. It appears in a headline, in a book both dedicated to Berkeley and “in a particular Manner beholden” to him.3  Johnson mailed a presentation copy to his friend, though it arrived in Oxford after Berkeley’s death.
In this note I want to support Berman’s case for assigning no. 69 to Berkeley by replying to A. A. Luce’s arguments against the assignment.4 Luce maintained not only that the case for the assignment is weak, but that “the case against is strong” (p. 250), and because he was willing in the case of other essays to take on the authority of Berkeley’s son, others might be tempted to use his arguments against the authority of Johnson. A study of Luce’s arguments will also be helpful in evaluating the significance of Berman’s discovery. Berman suggests, for example, that we now have reason to believe that

Berkeley also wrote no. 81.5 But this is to accept an assumption made by Luce which is, I think, mistaken.
Guardian no. 69 published on May 30, 1713, has two parts: an introduction or “precaution,” probably by the editor (Richard Steele), and an unsigned letter.6 “I Think I have somewhere read,” the letter begins,
in the Writings of one whom I take to be a Friend of yours, a Saying which struck me very much, and as I remember it was to this Purpose: The Existence of God is so far from being a thing that wants to be proved, that I think it is the only thing of which we are certain.
The writer calls this a “sprightly and just Expression,” but suggests that the Guardian “will not be pleased that I put in Mind of saying something on the Demonstration of the Bishop of Cambray” — Fénelon’s Demonstration de l’existence de Dieu, which had recently appeared in an English translation. A person of Fénelon’s talent “views all things in a Light different from that in which ordinary Man see them,” and his readers “enjoy is full Perfection the Advantage, while they are reading him, of Being what he is.” The Demonstration so moved Fénelon himself that he closed it with a prayer, which the writer thinks might be suitable for a Saturday Guardian. He has therefore prepared a translation, “to make you a Present of it,” though “I have not, as the Translator was obliged to do, confined my self to an exact Version from the Original, but have endeavoured to express the Spirit of it, by taking the Liberty to render his Thoughts, in such a way as I should have uttered them if they had been my own.” The theme of the prayer is that God is everywhere, actuating everything, but a preoccupation with our senses and passions blinds us to him. The same theme runs through the closing sections of the Principles, where Berkeley quotes Acts 17:27 (§ 150), as Fénelon does in the prayer.
Luce gives six reasons why Berkeley could not have been the author of no. 69.
(1) Luce’s first argument is that no. 69 begins with an introduction, “which on the face of it is by an editor and not a contributor” (p. 250). I agree that the introduction is probably by Steele, but this does not mean that the letter could not be by Berkeley.

(2) Luce grants it is “just possible” that the introduction is by Steele and the letter by Berkeley, but this “would make the construction of the paper, which is in any case slovenly, incredibly bad; for we should have to suppose that Berkeley sent in an unfinished and unsigned letter” (loc. cit.). When Luce calls the letter “unfinished,” I take it he means that it does not include a close. But “unfinished” and unsigned letters appeared often in the Guardian under Steele’s editorship (see 41, 63, 66, 93, and 95).7 Therefore we do not have to suppose that Berkeley sent in an unfinished and unsigned letter; the signature and close might have been cut by Steele.
(3) “The writer commits himself (by calling it a ‘just expression’) to the opinion that the existence of God is ‘the only thing of which we are certain.’ Berkeley could not, I think, have done so.” (loc. cit.) But the writer calls it a “sprightly and just Expression” (my emphasis). He treats the remark as a witticism, not as a sober declaration of philosophical opinion that risks inconsistency with developed views on certainty.
The reference to the author of the witticism — “one whom I take to be a Friend of yours” — is, incidentally, undoubtedly a reference to Joseph Addison, who had written one year earlier in Spectator no. 381 that “for my own part, I think the Being of a God is so little to be doubted, that it is almost the only Truth we are sure of.”8 If Berkeley is the author of the letter the vagueness of the reference to Addison is warm and funny. If, as Luce thinks, the author is Steele, the joke falls flat.
(4) Luce’s fourth argument fastens on the occurrence of the word “matter” in the following passage from the prayer:
A dead unactive Piece of Matter, a Flower that withers, a River that glides away, a Palace that hastens to its Ruin, a Picture made up of fading Colours, a Mass of shining Oar, strike our Imaginations, and make us sensible of their Existence. (p. 293)
“It is not likely,” Luce maintains, “that [Berkeley] would have given publicity to a sentiment assuming the existence of matter” (p. 251). Luce is right to notice the word “matter,” because at this point no. 69 deviates from both the French

(which has “un corps sterile, impuissant & inanime”) and the very close translation by Boyer:9
It Thou wert a Barren, Impotent, and Inanimate Body, like a Flower that fades away; a River that runs; a House that decays and falls to Ruin; a Picture, that is but a Collection of Colours, to strike the Imagination; or an useless Metal that glitters: They would perceive Thee.
Perhaps everyone will agree that “a dead unactive Piece of Matter” is a philosopher’s touch. But, Luce asks, could the philosopher be Berkeley?
In the Third Dialogue, Hylas asks Philonous what he thinks of “retaining the name matter, and applying it to sensible things?”10 Philonous replies,
With all my heart: retain the word matter, and apply it to the objects of sense, if you please, provided you do not attribute to them any subsistence distinct from their being perceived. I shall never quarrel with you for an expression.
The prayer’s use of “matter” is an acceptable, non-philosophical employment. Note that the sentence containing it is carefully adjusted to satisfy Philonous’s requirement that the word be applied only to the objects of sense: “A dead unactive Piece of Matter, a Flower that withers,... strike our Imaginations, and make us sensible of their Existence” (italics mine).
(5), (6). Luce’s final arguments rest on his belief that the author of no. 69 must also be the author of no. 81. “Whoever wrote No. 69 also wrote No. 81. No. 69 refers forward to No. 81, and No. 81 refers back to No. 69. The two are a pair united by style and content; yet no one has assigned No. 81 to Berkeley” (p. 251). Berman’s discovery has prompted him to make that assignment, for “as Dr. Luce has pointed out the two go together.11 But we need to look more closely at the relationship between the papers.
The correspondent in no. 69 tells the Guardian that if he publishes the prayer, “I know not but I may send you, for another Occasion, one used by a very great Wit of the last Age, which has Allusions to the Errors of a very wild life” (p.

292). The libertine’s prayer appears in no. 81, which — aside from three quoted passages, one of them the prayer itself — is written in the person of the editor, who reminds the reader that no. 69 ended “with a Piece of Devotion written by the Archbishop of Cambray” (p. 341). “It would,” he continues, “(as it was hinted in that Precaution) be of singular Use, for the Improvement of our Minds, to have the secret Thoughts of Men of good Talents” (loc. cit.). Now the most we are entitled to infer from the references each paper makes to the other is that the author of the precaution in no. 69 is the author of the unquoted material in no. 81, and that the author of the letter in no. 69 is the transmitter of the prayer in no. 81.12 There is no reason to suppose that the author of the letter in no. 69 is the author of the unquoted material in no. 81, of the two pieces of quoted material not referred to in no. 69, or even of the libertine’s prayer. Therefore Luce’s final arguments can be safely put aside. The “attitude to death and the future life” expressed in the libertine’s prayer is “morbid,” according to Luce, “and has little of that sunny hope which marks Berkeley’s utterances on those subjects” (p. 251). But this says nothing against Berkeley’s being the author of the letter in no. 69, who observes that Fénelon’s prayer has “a more happy and untroubled Spirit” than the prayer of the libertine (p. 292).
When Johnson sent Berkeley a presentation copy of the Elementa, he asked his friend to correct the book’s mistakes and misrepresentations.13 Luce’s arguments do not show that Johnson’s attribution was among the items calling for correction. Berkeley is the author of the letter in no. 69 but we should not infer from this that he is the author of anything else.

Notes
1. See Berman’s review of the bibliographies by T. E. Jessop and Geoffrey Keynes, Hermathena no. 125 (1978), p. 70. Johnson’s attribution appears in the first part (the "Noetica") of his Elementa Philosophica (Philadelphia, 1752), p. 100. The Elementa is reprinted in H. and C. Schneider (eds.), Samuel Johnson, President of King's College, His Career and Writings (New York, 1929). See vol. 2, p. 438.
2 For Johnson’s reading list see the Schneiders, Samuel Johnson, vol. 1, pp. 497-526. For the philosophical correspondence see A. A. Luce and T. E. Jessop (eds.), The Works of George Berkeley (London, 1948-57), vol. 2, pp. 271-94.
3 Elementa Philosophica, part one, p. vii.
4 “Berkeley’s Essays in the Guardian,” Mind vol. 52 (1943), pp. 247-63.
5 See p. 70 of Berman’s review, and his "Did Berkeley write Guardian 130?” Berkeley Newsletter no. 5 (1981), p. 10.
6 I have used the 12mo edition of The Guardian, 2 vols. (London, 1714). Nos. 69 and 81 both appear in vol. 1. All quotations in this paragraph are from p. 291.
7 Unsigned letters appear in many more. On Steele’s policies regarding corre-spondence, at least while editing the Spectator, see the introduction to Donald F. Bond’s edition (Oxford, 1965), vol. 1, pp. xxxvi-xliii. See also pp. xliii-vi. On the joint authorship of Guardian essays see E. J. Furlong, “How Much of Steele’s Guardian No. 39 Did Berkeley Write?” Hermathena no. 89 (1957), pp. 76-88. Furlong speculates that joint authorship may have been “the rule rather than the exception” (p. 83).
8 See Bond’s edition, vol. 3, p. 431.
9 A Demonstration of the Existence, Wisdom and Omnipotence of God (London, 1713), pp. 230-1. The French is quoted from Francois Fenelon, Demonstration de l’existence de Dieu (Paris: Jacques Estienne, 1713).
10 Both this quotation and the next are taken from the Luce and Jessop edition of the Works, vol. 2, p. 261.
11 Berman’s review, p. 70.
12 It may be worth observing that the author of the unquoted material in no. 81 and the author of the precaution in no. 69 both call Fénelon the “Archbishop of Cambray.” The author of the letter in no. 69 refers to him as the “Bishop” (pp. 291, 292).
13. The Schneiders, Samuel Johnson, vol. 2, p. 329.

Dating Berkeley’s
Notebook B
Bertil Belfrage
Lund University (Sweden)

Berkeley’s Philosophical Commentaries are included in a ms. volume now at the British Library (Add. MS. 39305) in which two notebooks, A and B, have been bound together. Notebook B contains much more than the philosophical entries of the Commentaries.1 Berkeley used this notebook in January 1706 (when he copied one set of statutes in it) as well as in December 1706 (when another set of statutes were added). In this paper, I argue that he used notebook B already in early 1705. This does not imply that he used it for the Philosophical Commentaries; it only implies, if correct, that at this time he used the notebook for one purpose or the other. When he began to write philosophical entries in it is another problem. I confine myself here to those parts of the manuscript which are listed, described, and numbered for reference in the table on page 8, below.
Our first question is: when did Berkeley copy the version of the “Description of the Cave of Dunmore” that we find in I and IV (see table)? He read one version of it before a society on January 10, 1706.2 But this copy is slightly different from that version. Thus we read in IV,
soon after I finish’d the foregoing description of the cave I had it revis’d by Mr. William Jackson a curious and philosophical young Gentleman... (folio 171)
This Mr. Jackson is also mentioned in a letter from Thomas Molyneux to Sir Hans Sloane, dated “Dublin May ye 10 1706.”3 Jackson brought a copy of the “Description” for publication in the Philosophical Transactions (but it was not

published). As far as we know, then, Berkeley worked on his Description twice: when he prepared it for the society; and when he revised it for publication. Our version seems to be connected with the second period. Probably, therefore,
(1)	I & IV were copied into notebook B in the spring of 1706.
The next question is: when did Berkeley write the equations for the Appendix of the De Ludo Algebraico?
He published two books in one, Arithmetica and Miscellanea Mathematica (with the De Ludo Algebraico), printed in London 1707. As it was published anonymously by a “Bachelor of Arts, Trinity College, Dublin” (Autore * * * * Art. Bac. Trin.

THE END OF NOTEBOOK B

Folio

167r

167v, 168r
168v, 169r

169v

170r
170v-179v
Description

End of the "Description of the Cave of Dunmore.” Not inverted.
Blank
Equations related to the 16 “points” in the Appendix to the De Ludo Algebraico, beginning on 169r with the formulas numbered 2-9 (corresponding to the differ-ent “points” of the game), continuing on 168v [sic] with formulas numbered 10-16. At the bottom of 168v, formulas related to the first “point,” though not numbered as the other formulas. Not inverted.
An, obviously interrupted, attempt to write the formulas which we have now in II. It is headed “Cuspis prima” (the first “point”). Not inverted.
Blank
Beginning on 179v, ending on 170v in mid-sentence, the “Description of the Cave of Dunmore.” Rectos blank. Inverted.
Notation

I

—
II

III

—
IV

Col. Dub.), and Berkeley took his M. A. on July 1707, A. A. Luce’s conclusion is that the book was published before that date, that is to say early in 1707 (Works IV 159). Thus,
(2)	The Latin tracts were published in early 1707.
The reason why Berkeley began to prepare his Latin mss. for the press was, according to Luce, that a certain Mr. Mullart vacated his fellowship on 24 September 1706 and “Berkeley became a candidate for the vacancy” (Life of Berkeley 1949, p. 37). That is to say,
(3)	Berkeley began to prepare his Latin manuscripts for publication in September 1706.
It is more accurate, however, to say that he at that time revised what he had earlier written. He not only declares in the last but one sentence of the whole work that he is no longer interested in these mathematical issues, as he is now engaged in quite different studies; he also mentions for how long he had kept the manuscripts to the Latin tracts unpublished.
Both A. C. Fraser and Luce refer to the Preface of the Arithmetica when they discuss the dating of the Latin mss. In this Preface Berkeley says that the manuscripts for that work have been kept for about three years (fere triennium in scriniis delituerint). As they were published in early 1707, the conclusion is that,
(4)	(The ms. of) the Arithmetica was written in early 1704.
But in the Miscellanea Mathematica there is also other, neglected, information. Berkeley demonstrates a theorem saying, “I discovered that theorem two years ago” (Duobus abhinc annis Theorema illud... inveni) (Works IV 213). And, in the first sentence of De Ludo Algebraico (Works IV 214), he says, “at the same time as I did that theorem, I invented the Algebraic Game” (Sub idem tempus quo Theorema illud, Ludum etiam Algebraicum inveni). If published early in 1707, and invented two years earlier, what Berkeley tells us is this,
(5)	The Algebraic Game was invented early in 1705.
Could we rely upon Berkeley’s information as to when he invented this game, that theorem, or composed the two Latin tracts?

I think that Luce was right when he suggested that these tracts were intended particularly for members of Trinity College. Berkeley speaks about “us” and “we” in a way that strengthens this impression. Thus he regrets the way in which mathematics are taught “at least with us” (apud nos saltem), “we read Tacquet’s Arithmetica” (Tacqueti Arithmeticam legamus), he says (Works IV 167); the Rev. John Hall, his tutor who encouraged him to study mathematics (Works IV 168), is presented as “vice-provost of our college” (Academicæ nostræ Vice-prcæpositum), etc. One could in this case speak about a “social pressure” in the sense that there were several persons among the potential readers, some of them mentioned by name, who were able to verify — and falsify — his autobiographical statements. Those members of the College, who wasted their time in playing chess instead of dealing with pleasant mathematical problems — or playing the Algebraic Game — should be able to recall when Berkeley presented his new game to them (see Works IV 214). And John Hall in particular should know not only when his student presented that theorem to him but also whether or not this statement was true,
At present, however, I am distracted by other studies which, though trivial and trifling, have taken the place of the most pleasant mathematics. (Impræsentiarum autem me alia distinent studia quæ, arida satis et jejuna, suavissimam mathesin exceperunt). (Works IV 220)
Berkeley should, moreover, have made some considerable progress in those other studies, because he goes as far as — even in print — to promise future publications of a higher standard than these Latin tracts. He says (Works IV 220),
There will in future probably come other better studies by me (studiorum meorum... potiora forsan posthac daturus).
Not only the “social pressure” to give well informed readers correct information, but also his lack of interest in mathematical issues at that time, makes it very likely that he did not compose those tracts in September 1706, but that he at that time revised what he had written two or three years earlier. The question is, then, whether the equations in notebook B

were written during the period of revising in late 1706, or in early 1705 when he invented the game.
Some information on the Algebraic Game to which these equations belong may be helpful. It is supposed to be played on a small board, such as is used for chess, though the board is different. There is an inner circle on the table in which one finds sixteen holes, or “points,” corresponding to a 16-point “star” inscribed in an outer circle. “Point one” (cuspis prima), or rather hole number one, is marked by a star, “point two” is the one to the right, etc. The idea is that the player move a peg from one hole, or “point,” to another. Thereby, he is able to form a “question,” such as “a + c.” According to certain rules, an equation can then be completed, such as “a + c = e × b.”
We may now consider the equations in III,
Cuspis prima

	                 e       e
	a + e = be     be
                        b       b

	e + y = b — y  v  b — y  v  y — b  v

                         a
	y + a = ba         ab
		      b 

I take the “v” in the second line as short for “vel” (Latin for “or” in the non-exclusive sense). In print, as well as in II, the different alternatives are distinguished by some space between the formulas, no “v.” Consider now the alternatives presented in the second line,
e + y  = b — y  v  b — y  v  y — b  v
The task is to present different alternatives. But then it would be a failure to repeat “b — y,” one of the alternatives, twice. Moreover, the line ends by a “v,” “or...” — not followed by any formulas — which indicates that he simply gave up without completing it. The formulas are not only incomplete, the notation in the first and the third line of the formulas in III is not apt to fulfill its purpose. In the table of the game as printed the signs for division and multiplication are “÷” and “×,” respectively. This notation not only correlates with the board of the game, it fulfills its main purpose to give a clear survey of different alternatives, such as the one that we find both in

the published Appendix and in II. Moreover, division does not occur at all in the printed formulas related to the “first point.” All these observations point in the same direction: the equations in III — reformulated and completed in II at the bottom of 168v — are at an immature stage, if compared with both the published Appendix and the equations in II.
Also the formulas in II seem to be prior to the published ones. In the inner circle of the table for the game, there are four letters (repeated four times, thus corresponding to the 16 holes, or “points”). In the published version, there are four sets of formulas, marked s, d, f, and x (which are the four letters of the inner circle). But in II we only find s-formulas, except those for the 1st point at the bottom of folio 168 verso, which are x-formulas. Thus the formulas in II are incomplete, if compared with the published Appendix. If they belonged to the revising period in 1706, then we should expect a complete, mature version of the Appendix to be printed. Their incompleteness and immaturity indicates that,
(6)	II & III were written in early 1705.
From (1) and (6), we can draw the conclusion that,
(7)	The equations in II and III are earlier than the copy of the “Description of the Cave of Dunmore” in I and IV.
Thereby we have an explanation of the interrupted writing of the “Description of the Cave of Dunmore” in notebook B. He started to write IV with the book inverted, that is to say, he started from what we now take to be the end. He had to interrupt his writing when he came to folio 169 verso, however, because those (not inverted) equations in II and III were already there. First, reversing the book when interrupted by them in order to see what he had earlier written, he then continued on the empty space on folio 167 recto (no longer inverted).
But if those equations were written already in 1705, then they would be the very first contribution in notebook B, as far as we know. He would then have started to write at the end of the book, leaving about 60 folios blank. Is that a likely procedure?
We find a similar way of writing in Add. MS. 39304 (at the British Library), the manuscript in which we find the draft of

Principles 85-145. Here he left about 50 folios blank before he began to write, “Having done with the Objections...,” and, in the next section, “From the Principles we have laid down it follows...” Later, he included other contributions on most of the empty folios.4 To start with the conclusion, or, as in this case, with the Appendix (leaving several folios blank) is not, therefore, out of keeping with Berkeley’s habits of writing.

Notes
1 See Catalogue of Contents by George Thomas in George Berkeley, Philosophical Commentaries, edited by George H. Thomas (Alliance, Ohio, 1976), p. xix ff.
2 There is a dated copy in MS. No. 888/2 at Trinity College, Dublin. See folio 244 verso. See also Samuel Molyneux’s copy of it in MS. No. 883 at TCD.
3 B. L.. Sloane MS. 4040, folio 164.
4 A draft of the Preface to Passive Obedience begins on folio 2, on folio 4 there are jottings such as “My speculations have the same effect as visiting foreign countreys...,” whereas the theme “Let your zeal be according to knowlege” is developed on folios 5-33. Between folio 33 and the blank folio 34, there are 17 blank unnumbered folios.

Discussion
Facts and reasons concerning
Berkeley’s reprinted Works

In the Berkeley Newsletter (No. 6) Bertil Belfrage expresses disapproval of the fact that the Works were reprinted with the Supplement that I added to Vol. I. In support of his opinion he enlists the disapprobation of Dr. J. V. Luce, in a letter quoted on p. 18. A second claim made by Belfrage is that I have misdescribed the MS notebooks. This is, of course, the proper ground for the first objection. The question after all is about the description and elucidation of Berkeley’s notebooks.
The first point can be met by a brief recital of the facts. When Kraus-Thomson proposed to reprint the nine volume edition of Berkeley’s Works, Thomas Nelson, the copyright holders, were enthusiastic. They therefore gave permission for a reprint, together with a brief Supplement to Volume I so as to bring up to date further work on Berkeley’s MS notebooks. When I was asked by Kraus-Thomson to write the Supplement, I agreed on condition that Professor T. E. Jessop had no objection to my doing so. Professor Jessop did not object, as Kraus-Thomson assured me. Moreover I wrote to Professor Jessop about the reprint project, carefully distinguishing it from the much more ambitious plan to bring out a new edition of Berkeley’s Works. Subsequently I sent to Professor Jessop a TS of my Supplement and there was still no objection. It is clear therefore that both the holder of the copyright and Professor Jessop, the surviving Editor of Berkeley’s Works, agreed that the reprinting of the Works with the Supplement should be undertaken.
As to the second point, I freely admit that the Supplement would have been better if I had included a reference to Professor Luce’s notes on the MS notebooks in the edition of the

Philosophical Commentaries by George Thomas. The omission is not however a serious one, and it is suitably amended in a Postscript that appears in a Tercentenary Facsimile Edition of the Berkeley MS notebooks which I have edited. This volume will appear in November 1984.
It is fairly well-known I suppose, at least by now, that Professor Luce objected strongly to my interpretation of Berkeley’s theories of ideas and notions in my book called Complementary Notions: A Critical Study of Berkeley’s Theory of Concepts, (The Hague, 1972). Professor Luce’s short notice in Hermathena (1973) makes this plain. It is perhaps less well-known that Professor Jessop wrote a long and favorable review of the same book for the 1973 number of the Studi lnternazionali di Filosofia, No. V.1 This difference of opinion I take to be a good indication that the views expressed in the book are controversial.
It is hardly to be expected that either Professor Luce or those who have usually shared his opinions should change their minds for no reason. It is consequently all the more important to show how a different reading of Berkeley’s note-books can be informative, and why this reading is justified by the texts. The special place of the notebooks in the development of Berkeley’s thought needs no emphasis, while the most accurate description of the notebooks is indispensible to their interpretation. It has been my contention all along that my account of the relationship between ideas and notions makes better sense of what Berkeley actually wrote, both in the notebooks and in the published writings. Again, the abiding interest is to understand Berkeley’s works, and no pieties can be allowed to obscure that purpose.
In general where there is room for interpretation, it obviously is best to welcome opposition and discussion. Where there is no room for doubt, as in the accurate description of the MS notebooks, it is past time to make the issue clear. The fact is that I have given a correct description of the penultimate quire of the MS notebooks. It is also the case that there is a pattern of verso corrections, as described briefly in the Supplement.2 These two features of the MS will be apparent to many more readers when the facsimile edition appears in November.
It is not for me to question Belfrage’s motives in reading a

“relationship” (p. 18) as a simple spatial relationship (p. 19). However, since his reading makes nonsense of the passage, it is possible to wonder how he alighted on this interpretation. As to his comments about the recto and verso and apparently demented bookbinders (p. 19 ff.), I leave this fantasy and its successors in Belfrage’s account to the readers of this Newsletter to make of it all what they will.
By now it is, I trust, evident that anyone who wishes to know what I actually wrote in the Supplement is well-advised not to consult Belfrage’s version of it. Equally, there is no point simply in repeating what I have already published about Berkeley’s notebooks. The texts are available to anyone sufficiently curious to consult them. Accordingly I consider this matter closed.
Désirée Park
Concordia University, Montreal

Notes

1 Now called International Studies in Philosophy.
2 And treated in detail in Complementary Notions.

Discussion
Facts concerning
Berkeley’s Notebooks

In Berkeley Newsletter (No. 6), I criticized the Supplement by Professor Désirée Park added to volume one of Berkeley’s Works as published by Kraus Reprint in Liechtenstein. I argued that she had given an inaccurate description of Berkeley’s MS notebooks. Now she answers in this number of the Berkeley Newsletter saying,
The fact is that I have given a correct description of... the MS notebooks. (p. 15)
I confine myself here to what Professor Park says concerning “the changed order which the binder gave to Berkeley’s notes” (for references, see Berkeley Newsletter No. 6, p. 17 ff.).

[Facsimile of folios 168v - 169r to be added.]

Figure 1. Folios 168 verso — 169 recto.

I take one simple example of the kind of basic facts we disagree about. She speaks about “inverted notes, which include algebraic equations.” This is an inaccurate description, I argued, because those equations are not inverted. The equations referred to are given in figure 1. The librarian’s number of the folio on the top of the right-hand page, marked A, shows what is up and what is down. The simple way to settle our controversy on this point is to look at figure 1, or the manuscript itself. Nothing could be clearer than that these equations are not inverted.
One may ask, how Professor Park could fail to see such obvious things as, for example, what is up and what is down. And how could she have come to the idea that a careless bookbinder inverted some parts of the manuscript and destroyed the original order of some pages? There is nothing in the manuscript in support of her conjecture, but there is the following curious note on the British Library microfilm:

[Facsimile of folios 164v - 165r to be added]

Figure 2. Microfilm of folio 164 verso — 165 recto.

No doubt, the photographer wanted to inform the reader that the inverted text that follows is in the original, and not the result of any action taken by him. But, perhaps, this note could give a reader the wrong impression of an authorized information on the binding of the manuscript, according to which it had been (mistakenly) bound upside down from folio 165 to end. This may have created such a strong feeling of

certainty, that any further study of the microfilm, or examination of the manuscript, on this issue would seem to be a waste of time.
The first picture on the microfilm after the photographer's note is this one:

[Facsimile of folios 164v - 165r to be added]

Figure 3. Folios 164 verso and 165 recto, inverted.
The area marked B is enlarged in figure 4, C refers to the librarian’s number of the folio showing that the text is inverted, whereas A shows the ink of some (inverted) notes written on the back of folio 165.
Professor Park argues, in accordance with (a misunderstanding of) the photographer’s note, that the text on folio 164 verso has been mistakenly inverted by the binder. The text on folio 164 recto, however, is not inverted, and it has not been affected by the binder, as she argues. The idea that the verso-half, but not the recto-half, of one and the same folio has been misplaced implies lack of knowledge on how manuscripts are numbered. Page one of a printed book is folio 1 recto of the manuscript, but page 2 of the printed book correlates with folio 1 verso of the manuscript. Thus the inverted text on folio 164 verso is written on the same piece of paper as the non-inverted entries on folio 164 recto. If what

is written on the back is inverted in relation to what is written on the front of this same piece of paper, then of course the verso text is originally inverted.
Besides these queries on folio 164 verso, Professor Park mentions a series of texts that have been inverted by a binder. She mentions the end of the “Description of the Cave of Dunmore” on 167 recto but also “other inverted notes, which include algebraic equations [on 168 verso --- 169 verso], laws on motion [166 recto and verso ] and notes for a sermon [on 165 verso].” Could these texts have been inverted by the binder?
The ink from the “notes for a sermon” comes through the paper and is vaguely seen in area A of figure 3. And, if we observe the blottings in area B of figure 3, then we can be quite certain that those notes were originally inverted as well. Consider this photograph:

[Facsimile to be added.]

Figure 4. Detail of figure 3, showing how blottings to the left correlate with the text written on the right.

The text of the fifth query on folio 164 verso blotted on the opposite page. This means that Berkeley closed the book before the ink was dry. But the ink could not have blotted on that page, if it was not originally bound opposite those queries. Consequently, folio 164 and 165 have always been bound consecutively. That is to say, as the text on folio 164 verso was originally written upside down, then so were the inverted notes on folio 165 verso — they have not been inverted by any careless binder.
Professor Park’s idea is that we should “rectify” the allegedly mistaken order in which the folios are now bound. This is supposed to be done by inverting what she ambiguously refers to as “the penultimate quire.” Where that quire is to be found

is not easy to say (probably she refers to the antepenultimate gathering and parts of the gathering before this one). Here is the gathering before the antepenultimate one:
The binding	Folio	Contents on rectos	Contents on versos

[Hopefully, this picture could be scanned.]

Figure 5. The ante-antepenultimate gathering. On folios 160-164, there are non-inverted entries of the Philosophical Commentaries, whereas the last folios of this gathering only contain inverted texts.

Figure 5 shows the ante-antepenultimate gathering: a section of four sheets folded once thus making eight folios (though one of them has been cut out). That is to say, folios 163 and 164 form one sheet, the inverted notes on folio 165 and the non-inverted entries of the Philosophical Commentaries on folio 162 another, and the 2-page inverted note headed “De Motu” on folio 166, finally, is part of the same sheet as the non-inverted entries on folio 161.
Each one of these sheets contains one folio with non-inverted entries and one with some inverted text. There is only one way to “rectify” the manuscript in accordance with Park’s idea, and that is to destroy the original sheets by cutting them in two parts and place the second half somewhere else in the manuscript where it could never before have appeared. This would not help as to the inverted notes on folio 164 verso, however. In order to split what is written on the back from what is written on the front of one and the same piece of paper (folio 164), one would need a very sharp razorblade, indeed, for splicing that page into one very thin front-half (folio 164 recto) and one equally fragile back-half (folio 164

verso). Berkeley might have said, one could as easily conceive Locke’s abstract triangle.
Finally, as to the point that she concentrates on, the copy-right issue, there is not much to say. She had no permission from A. A. Luce’s representatives to change the format of Luce’s Introduction to the Commentaries (in a way that may do damage to his reputation as a scholar if he becomes associated with it). But, she says, she had permission from another person, T. E. Jessop. Even if they had a joint copyright, however, it is not sufficient to have permission only from one of the two parties. She may ask her publisher. He knows. And it is he who is responsible, by no means Désirée Park who has no doubt acted in good faith.
Bertil Belfrage
Lund University (Sweden)

Reviews

The Guardian, edited with an Introduction and Notes by John Calhoun Stephens. Kentucky: The University Press of Kentucky, 1982. $ 55.00.

A modern, scholarly edition of The Guardian has been long overdue; the last edition with any real scholarly pretensions was that by John Nichols in 1789. Professor Stephen’s welcome publication consists of a lucid Introduction — on the Guardian’s background, progress, reception and authorship (pp. 1-36) — followed by a note on “the Text” (pp. 37-8), the text itself (pp. 39-575), editorial matters such as textual emendations, variants, sources of the mottos (pp. 576-600), then some 150 helpful pages of notes on the text (pp. 603-752). An ample index (pp. 753-825) concludes this bulky yet handsome volume.
My aim here is to focus on Berkeley’s contribution to the Guardian. By all accounts, he was the third biggest contributor — Steele and Addison being the first and second. That “... Mr. Berkeley of Trinity-College in Dublin... embellished [the Guardian] with many excellent Arguments in Honour of Religion and Virtue,” we learn from Steele’s 1714 “Publisher to the Reader” (p. 575). Yet which Guardian essays did Berkeley write? The following chart shows the state of play after more than two centuries.

Attribution				Guardian Numbers
George Berkeley,			3		27	35	39	49	55		62		70	77				126
fils (1765 letter)
John Nichols (1789		3		27	35	39	49	55		62	69	70	77	83	88	89	126
ed. of Guardian)
A. C. Fraser (1871		3		27	35	39	49	55		62	69	70	77	83	88	89	126
ed. of Works)
A. A. Luce (1955				9*	27	35	39	49	55		62		70	77	83	88	89	126
ed. of Works, vol 7)
J. C. Stephens (1982			9*	27	35	39	49	55	58	62		70	77	83	88	89	126
*Part of.

There are nine essays, it will be observed, which are unanimously ascribed to Berkeley: 27, 35, 39, 49, 55, 62, 70, 77, 126. In the light of Samuel Johnson’s attribution of 69 to Berkeley (see Berkeley Newsletter 5 and this number pp. 1-6), I think that it, too, must be added to the list of certain essays. On the other hand, I think we can also be certain that Berkeley did not write the whole of 39, or — probably — 27 and 35. These (negative) conjectures were first made by Professor Furlong in “How much of Steele’s Guardian no. 39 did Berkeley write?' (Hermathena LXXIX 1957, pp. 76-88). Stephens’s comment is cautious: “These conjectures [by Furlong]... have a certain attractiveness. They lean heavily, however, on internal evidence and a reading of Berkeley’s character that may be debatable” (p. 639).
Berkeley, according to Furlong, could not have penned the unpleasant remark that the writings of two (living) freethinkers have “raised our longing to see their posthumous Works.” (no. 39, p. 159). For “If he did write it then we should have to revise [our] opinion of him...” (Furlong, p. 77). Now in my opinion, Stephens is right to regard this as “debatable”; but he ought to have offered some evidence that Berkeley might have made such a remark. I think we have such evidence in Berkeley’s Essay towards preventing the ruin of Great Britain (1721): “... the public safety requireth that the avowed contemners of all religion should be severely chastised; and perhaps it may be no easy matter to assign a good reason why blasphemy against God should not be... punished with the same rigour as treason against the King.” (Works, vol. 6, pp. 70-1).
And yet, for all that, Professor Furlong was right: Berkeley did not write the concluding seven paragraphs of Guardian 39. For in some Steele papers, recently acquired by the British Library — Add. MS. 61688 — there is a fragment of this concluding section; and it is in Steele’s, not Berkeley’s, hand. The ms is reproduced here by permission of the British Library; it would seem to be the only extant ins of one of Berkeley’s supposed essays. Its pagination 3 —  confirms that the last seven paragraphs of 39 were written separately and not as a continuation of the letter by Ulysses Cosmopolita (Berkeley).
There are a few minor implications: the four-line N. B. at

[Facsimile to be added.]

British Library, Add. MS. 61688, folio 60.

the end of numbers 27 and 35, and the five-line introduction to 39, can no longer be confidently ascribed to Berkeley. It is curious that, although Stephens seems doubtful about Furlong’s case for 39, he accepts Furlong’s suggestion that 58 was by Berkeley (p. 654), even though Furlong had put this forward as a tentative suggestion needing more discussion (Furlong, p. 87).
Stephens could, I think, have made more use of Luce’s notes on Berkeley’s Guardian essays (e.g. on no. 27, Works, 7, p. 181n); he should also have picked up Fraser’s identification (Works (1901), 4, p. 189n) of Shaftesbury (Essay on Wit and Humour, II, III) as one of “our modern Free-Thinkers [that] insinuate the Christian Morals to be defective, because (say they) there is no mention made in the Gospel of the Virtue of Friendship.” (no. 126, p. 421). Berkeley is also probably

alluding here to his other enemy, Anthony Collins, whose Discourse of Free-thinking (1713) contains a similar (Shaftesburean) insinuation (pp. 130-1) on friendship and “our Holy Religion.”
Stephens’s admirable care in editorial matters can be seen in a note to Guardian 89, identifying one of Berkeley’s favorite Scriptural quotations: “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither bath it entered into the heart of man to conceive the things which God hath prepared for those that love him.” (p. 322). On this Stephens correctly notes: “1 Corinthians, 2:9, slightly misquoted” (p. 680). This may seem a very minor matter; but in my opinion his gloss helps to clinch Berkeley’s authorship of no. 89. Here is the King James version: “Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.” There are two differences: (1) the essayist writes “neither hath it entered” instead of “neither have entered”; (2) he adds “to conceive” after “heart of man.” Now Berkeley quoted from 1 Corinthians 2:9 in his first extant Sermon (Works, 7, p. 12) and in his Draft Introduction to the Principles (Works, 2, p. 137); and in both cases his quotations exactly duplicate the deviations in Guardian 89. This, in my opinion, should put 89 on the list of certain essays, even though it is not ascribed to Berkeley by his son.
David Berman

Berkeley, Critical and Interpretive Essays. Edited by Colin M. Turbayne. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1982. Pp xii + 340.

This book comprises, apart from preliminary pages and name and subject indexes, a short editorial preface, twenty philosophical essays and a bibliography (which contains 402 entries, including for ease of reference some duplication) of George Berkeley 1963-1979. The essays are arranged in nine sections, headed as follows: I Common Sense and Relativism; II Ideas and Perception; III Method and Mathematics; IV Primary and Secondary Qualities; V Space and Time; VI Aether and Corpuscles; VII Idealism and Universals; VIII The “Doctrine of Signs” and “The Language of Nature”; IX Mind. Owing to limitation of space the following essays, though containing

collectively a fair amount of interesting and useful exegesis and analysis, can be listed only: Genevieve Brykman, “Micro-scopes and Philosophical Method in Berkeley”; Theodore Messenger, “Berkeley and Tymoczko on Mystery in Mathematics”; Nancy L. Maull, “Berkeley on the Limits of Mechanistic Explanation”; Margaret D. Wilson, “Did Berkeley Completely Misunderstand the Basis of the Primary-Secondary Distinction in Locke?”; Gary Thrane, “The Spaces of Berkeley’s World”; I. C. Tipton, “The ‘Philosopher by Fire’ in Berkeley’s Alciphron”; Edwin B. Allaire, “Berkeley’s Idealism Revisited”; Joseph Margolis, “Berkeley and Others on the Problem of Universals”; William McGowan, “Berkeley’s Doctrine of Signs”; Laurence A. Mirarchi, “Dynamical Implications of Berkeley’s Doctrine of Heterogeneity: a Note on the Language Model Of Nature”; Willis Doney, “Is Berkeley’s a Cartesian Mind?” The remaining contributions, selected here for a variety of reasons, will be reviewed individually.
George Pappas in “Berkeley and Common Sense” (pp 3-21) considers two questions. (1) In view of the fact that Berkeley’s idealist metaphysics implies at least one of the two following propositions: (a) there are no physical objects, (b) physical objects are collections of ideas, and that both of these propositions seem to be at odds with common sense, how is Berkeley able to claim that common sense and his metaphysics are consistent with one another? (2) Can certain common sense propositions, apparently incompatible with idealism but nonetheless held by Berkeley, be reconciled with Berkeley’s idealism? In the second question Pappas has in mind particularly the following propositions: (d) physical objects are immediately perceived; (e) different perceivers immediately perceive the same physical object; (f) we have immediate knowledge of physical objects; (g) we have certain knowledge of physical objects; and he argues, perhaps not always entirely persuasively, that despite appearances each of these propositions is indeed compatible with Berkeleyan idealism. Pappa’s treatment of the first question is somewhat complicated. He says that (h) (along with some true proposition) implies that (c) each physical object exists only when perceived. He argues that (c) is to be interpreted as meaning: (c1) no physical object exists when not perceived at all, and he maintains that it would not be unplausible for Berkeley to claim that (c1) is

compatible with common sense. It may be commented that even if this is all correct so far, and accordingly it has been established that a proposition implied by (b) is compatible with common sense, it has not thereby been shown that (b) is compatible with common sense.
Perceived features of objects vary for different observers and under different conditions. The so-called relativity arguments that Berkeley bases on such phenomena are the subject of Richard T. Lambert’s “Berkeley’s Commitment to Relativism” (pp. 22-32). Lambert begins by noting differences between the Principles and the Dialogues in respect of relativity arguments. In the former work they are used to establish no more than a scepticism of the senses: “that we do not know by sense which is the true colour or extension of the object,” and to convict of inconsistency those who believe in the subjecticity of secondary but not of primary qualities; in the latter, however, they are regarded as a strong positive reason for accepting immaterialism. Again, in the Principles the relativity arguments concentrate on what might be regarded as abnormal perceptions, whereas in the Dialogues there is at least a strong suggestion that all perceptions vary. After considering how such differences are to be explained Lambert comes to the question of how far Berkeley is committed to relativism. Two conflicting strains of thought are found in the Dialogues. One “relativizes perceptions to the point that each one is separable from every other; no single idea may be repeated through time or space, and none is perceivable by more than one person...” In the other it is “assumed that objects do continue in existence independently of human perceptions and are publicly available.” How are these conflicting tendencies to be reconciled? Lambert discusses briefly two possible solutions: the theological (roughly, God’s perceptions keep things in being even if no finite perceiver is aware of them) and the linguistic (when our perceptions are similar and coherent “to talk of ‘the same thing’ is to describe that coherence in an informal and condensed way”). Both solutions were espoused by Berkeley. Lambert points to difficulties in the former but considers that the latter enables the problem of Berkeley’s “incompatible positions” to be dissolved. His view seems to be that Berkeley is fully committed in his mind to relativism and that the passages that seem to

be conveying the other strain of thought result from the policy of “speaking with the vulgar.”
Désirée Park in her essay, “On Taking Ideas Seriously” (pp. 35-47) claims that the paradox of the colour continuum (how it is that the relation of identity of colour can be non-transitive) can be solved if account is taken of the distinction between on the one hand perceptible colours which are momentary and unrepeatible, and which exemplify Berkeley’s “ideas” on a strict interpretation of the term, and on the other hand coloured shapes which are temporally continuous. The distinction is certainly an important one but the author’s explanation of how it provides a solution of the colour-continuum problem does not come across clearly: more spelling-out would have been helpful.
Georges Dicker in “The Concept of Immediate Perception in Berkeley’s Immaterialism” (pp. 48-66) distinguishes several different senses of “im-mediately perceive,” confusion of some of which, he believes, led Berkeley to the erroneous conclusion that (3) if x is immediately perceivedp then x is immediately perceivede, i.e. if x is perceived without the perceiver’s performing any conscious inference then x is perceived in such a way that its existence and nature can be known solely on the basis of one’s present perceptual experience. He argues that this proposition has an essential role in an important argument used by Berkeley in support of his main thesis that sensible qualities are sensations, and also that it leads to the following doctrines (all evidently unacceptable to Dicker): (i) physical things are unperceivable; (ii) only sense-data are perceivable; (iii) a causal analysis of perceiving implies the unperceivability of physical things. This is a carefully thought out paper, suggesting interesting distinctions and containing useful analysis. Dicker concentrates a good deal of attention on a well-known passage from the First Dialogue about hearing a coach, and his firm belief in the erroneous of Berkeley’s assertion (a particularization of (i) above) that “in truth and strictness... the coach is not... properly perceived by sense” seems to have had a basic role in his thinking about this whole subject. It may be remarked, however, that not everyone would agree that Berkeley’s assertion is erroneous.
With the paper, “On Being ‘Embrangled’ by Time” (pp. 148 -155) E. J. Furlong has added to the succession of scholarly

and always pleasantly written essays that he has been producing over the years in the highways and byways of Berkeleyan studies. Here he brings together various things that Berkeley has said about time, and identifies two major problems: (1) the nature of time: why did Berkeley hold that time is constituted by the succession of ideas in our minds; (2) the paradox of private times. With regard to (1) Furlong suggests that Berkeley’s difficulties might have been avoided if he had noticed the difference between “There is no such thing as time” and “There is no such thing as time.”
In his essay, “Locke, Berkeley and Corpuscular Scepticism” (pp. 174-193), Daniel Garber throws a welcome light into a perhaps rather shady terrain. He is concerned with two forms of scepticism: on the one hand what he calls “veil-of-perception” scepticism, i.e. scepticism derived directly or indirectly from the representative theory of perception, and on the other hand corpuscularian scepticism, the view that the real nature of physical things is hidden from us because they are made up of particles too small for us to sense. Locke gives expression to both kinds of scepticism, holding in respect of the corpuscles that though not in principle inaccessible to us they are so in virtue of the weakness of our senses; he is much more concerned however, Garber points out, about this hidden nature of the corpuscles than about the veil of perception. Writers considering Berkeley’s relation to Locke, however, have often either neglected Locke’s corpuscularian scepticism or assimilated it to the other sort of identifying the world of corpuscles with the world beyond the veil. Garber’s thesis is that Berkeley distinguished the two kinds of scepticism. That he did so is shown by the different arguments he used in dealing with them. He refutes the veil-of-perception sceptic, Garber claims, by showing that the hidden nature of which the sceptic complains does not exist (because nothing exists independently of mind). The hidden nature postulated by the corpuscularian sceptic, on the other hand, is reinterpreted by Berkeley rather than eliminated: for him the corpuscles are cluster-ideas in God’s mind which God would cause us to have in appropriate circumstances. They are not efficient causes, but are a means by which God arranges regularity in the occurrence of ideas thus making prediction possible. Accordingly for Berkeley the corpuscles, being

without causal efficacy, cannot rightly be claimed to be the real nature of things.
“Berkeley’s Argument from Design” (pp. 261-270), by Michael Hooker, is a thoughtful analysis of Berkeley’s discussion in Alciphron, Dialogue IV, of the existence of God. The main weight of the argument is borne by the notion of God as the author of the language of nature, but Hooker holds that it is not certain how the argument should be interpreted. On one view it is just a special case of the argument from design, and vulnerable to Hume’s criticisms. But he suggests that there are two other possible interpretations which would construe it as something both more powerful and more akin to the argument in the Principles: (1) God is posited as the best explanation of the regularity of the world of sense-experience; (2) God is posited as the guarantor of the connexion between our sense-experiences and the world about which they inform us. It might be questioned perhaps how far (1) is indeed other than just a special case of the argument from design, but it may be more interesting to summarize Hooker’s further explanation of (2). The premises of the argument, according to this interpretation, are that we assume that our senses give us information about an external world, but this connexion is contingent, not necessary. So, because we think we are informed, we must suppose that something exists as the guarantor of reliability. The analogy to language is as follows. In the case of spoken language there is a contingent connexion between words and the things they signify; in the case of the language of nature there is similarly a contingent connexion between our experiences and the worldly things they signal. In the case of spoken language it is the speaker’s intention that ensures the reference relationship; in the case of the language of nature it is the deity who ensures the reference of our sense-experiences.
In the third of the Dialogues Hylas claimed that the same argument that Philonous used against matter should be available by parity of reasoning against spirit. Phillip Cummins in his essay, “Hylas’ Parity Argument” (pp. 283-294), sees Hylas’ argument as being threefold and consisting of: (1) the in-conceivability argument (that if we can have no idea of matter neither can we have any idea of spirit); (2) the substance argument (that if the notion of material substance is incoher-

ent so is that of spiritual substance); (3) the nescience argument (an argument taken as implied in the text to the effect that if matter is unknowable so is spirit). He spells out these arguments, and then contends (persuasively as far as the reviewer is concerned) that in no case can the parity argument be validly used against Philonous (and Berkeley).
Colin M. Turbayne in “Lending a Hand to Philonous: The Berkeley, Plato, Aristotle Connexion” (pp. 295 -310) sees Berkeley’s view of mind as being in the Platonic-Aristotelian rather than in the Cartesian tradition. He draws attention to three principles propounded by Berkeley: the Distinction principle (that the mind is entirely distinct from its ideas), the Identity principle (that ideas cannot be separated from the perception of them) and the Inherence principle (that ideas exist only in the mind); and he says that the traditional view is that Berkeley can be made consistent only if he drops the Distinction principle and adopts the Humean view of mind. Turbayne seeks to refute this traditional view by showing that when the three principles are interpreted with the aid of certain specific Platonic and Aristotelian ideas they can be seen to be consistent after all. His argument might have been more convincing if he had stated clearly exactly what each of the three principles becomes when reinterpreted in the way proposed.
Whether the last comment is a fair one or merely a reflexion (doubtless, alas, not unprecedented) of the reviewer's own inadequacy, Turbayne is to be congratulated on having assembled a collection of essays which, though varying in character, quality, interest and originality, taken as a whole form a worthwhile contribution to Berkeleyan studies.
Most of the essays are revised versions of papers delivered at the Berkeley Commemorative Conference in Rhode Island in 1979. The book is dedicated to the Colonial Dames of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations, Guardians of Whitehall, the house (depicted pleasantly on page xi) in which Berkeley lived from 1729 to 1731. Misprints are rare: “Lysicle’s” appears on page 171; now and then Berkeley drops an e. The use by one (otherwise respectable) writer of the pronoun “s(he)” has been tolerated.

J. A. Faris
Queen’s University, Belfast

Recent Articles on Berkeley
[Included in the Bibliography of Berkeley Newsletter No. 16.]

Berkeley Tercentenary 1985
The following conferences are planned

Newport, Rhode Island, 8 -11 March 1985.
For information contact: Dr. Ernest Sosa, Brown University, Providence, Rhode Island.

Royal Irish Academy, Dublin; 18 -19 April 1985.
For information: Dr. D. Clarke, Philosophy dept., University College, Cork, Ireland.

Trinity College, Dublin; 19 -22 August 1985.
Arrangements have been made for the twelve papers and replies to each paper. It is planned to publish a selection of the proceedings in Hermathena. For further information: Dr. David Berman, Philosophy dept., Trinity College, Dublin, Ireland.

Tercentenary Festival in Cloyne; 23-25 August 1985.
For details write to Mrs. P. Lyons, Lisanley, Cloyne, Co. Cork, Ireland.

Maison Française d’Oxford; 26-28 September 1985.
For information contact Dr. Bruno Neveu, the Director of the Maison Française.

Recent Books
[Included in the Bibliography of Berkeley Newsletter No. 16.]

	Advertisement:

George Berkeley
MANUSCRIPT INTRODUCTION

Edited with an Introduction and Commentary by
B E R T I L    B E L F R A G E

This edition makes it possible — for the first time — not only to follow the text in its first stratum (which was published by T. E. Jessop) but also to discover its various later stages. This means that it is the first complete edition, providing new material for students of Berkeley — unavailable in Jessop’s, and undiscoverable in Fraser’s, editions.
In the “Editor’s Commentary,” the Manuscript Introduction (sometimes called the Draft Introduction to the Principles) is shown to express an early philosophy, different from the doctrine that Berkeley published, and thus provide a deeper understanding of his early development.
Diplomatic edition limited to 500 numbered copies.

The Berkeley Newsletter appears once a year in late autumn. It includes notes on Berkeleian topics. A note should not normally exceed five pages and should be type-written. The Newsletter also lists items of Berkeley interest. Authors wishing to have their books, articles or notes listed should send the requisite information to the editors, who would be grateful for any other information relating to Berkeley publications.