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Oxford. His residence there, however, was not long. On Tuesday evening, January 14, 1753, as he was sitting among his family, and engaged listening to a sermon of Bishop Sherlocke's, which Mrs. Berkeley was reading to him, he expired so quietly, that his death was not observed till some time after, when his daughter approached to give him a cup of tea, and found him cold and stiff. The cause of death was paralysis of the heart.
But all of Berkeley did not die. In view of the monument he left behind him, more enduring than marble, he might well exclaim with the Roman poet: Non omnis moriar. He lives in his works. In the temple of philosophy, he holds a niche beside the sages of ancient Greece Thales, Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, and the rest, together with the profoundest thinkers of modern times. His ideal theory forms an era in the history of metaphysics. If he has failed to make good his own system, he has not only effectually demolished all those theories which preceded his own day and generation, but his reasoning leads to the irresistible conclusion that all future systems of philosophy are simply impossible, and that positive science alone is within the scope of human ken, and the proper object of investigation—a conclusion established by the latest and greatest writer on philosophy, Auguste Comte,* the Bacon of the nineteenth century. Berkeley has shown the weakness of the arguments of the materialists. But his own logic at the same time refutes himself, and demonstrates that his theory of immaterialism is equally incapable of proof. Berkeley overthrows Locke, but falls himself over the prostrate philosopher. The humiliating confession must at last be made, that for thousands of years philosophy has been only moving in a circle, and has made no progress whatever. this very day, the Germans are puzzling themselves and the world with the discussion of the same metaphysical questions which exercised the minds of the Grecian philosophers. After engaging in its investigations the mightiest intellects in every age, philosophy has arrived just where it started from, and left mankind no wiser than before; unless, indeed, that by its failure it has taught the incertitude and fruitlessness of such speculations, and fixed the limits of the human understanding, saying, “Thus far shalt thou go and no further.” And this result, to which Berkeley has in a high
• Cours de Philosophie Positive.
degree contributed, is a great gain to the world; for henceforth the master minds of modern civilization will be diverted from barren abstractions to the pursuit of science, in which they will find their reward. There are two grand distinctions between science and philosophy: one is, that science is based on facts, and its conclusions arrived at from à posteriori reasoning; whereas, philosophy is based on assumption, and its conclusions are reached by the à priori process. The other distinction is, that while philosophy makes no progress, science is continually advancing, establishing new facts and evolving new laws. What vast and wonderful truths havé been brought to light by the application of the law of gravitation, discovered by Newton! Metaphysical philosophy and positive science are irreconcilable. The former vainly aspires to the knowledge of essences and causes. Positive science contents itself with the observation of phenomena, and the deduction, thence, of unerring laws. Thus are the marvels of astronomy unfolded to the astonished gaze of man, .and their verity established by the fulfilment of the predictions of science, which foretells with certainty the eclipses of the sun and moon, the transit of a planet, the return of a comet after a lapse of hundreds of years, and even the appearance of a new planet, never before observed.
ART. VIII.-1. Opere Politico-Economiche del Conte Camillo Benso
di Cavour. Cuneo, 1857. 2. Camillo di Cavour. Commemorazione, per CIRCO D'ARCO. To
rino, 1861. 3. Camillo Benso di Cavour, dal Professore Roggero Bonghi. To
rino, 1860. 4. Discours du Conte de Cavour, et Discussion à la Chambre des
Députés sur la Question de Rome. Turin, 1861. 5. Deuxième Lettre à M. De Cavour, President du Conseil des Min
istres à Turin. Par M. LE COMTE DE MONTALEMBERT. Paris, 1861.
PROBABLY there has been no statesman since the time of Chatham whose death has been more universally regretted than that of the Count de Cavour. For the last ten years
no other man of any country has attracted so much attention by the mere force of his intellect. For a time he has been eclipsed by Garibaldi ; but only while the latter has been performing brilliant actions in the field. No sooner were these over than the eyes of the world were again turned towards Cavour. This had not been strange had he been the first minister of any of the Great Powers-of France, England, Austria, or Russia ; for the representative of a great nation iš sure to be heard, even when he has little that is of importance to say. That it is not alone the peculiar position of Sardinia that had rendered him thus conspicuous is sufficiently evident from the fact that scarcely any of his immediate predecessors have been heard of beyond the Alps. Nor have those who have acted with him, or who have, for a while, taken his place. It is not the altered condition of Italy in his time that has caused every eye to turn to him, since it is undoubtedly he, who for the most part, has brought about this change of condition.
This is admitted alike by friends and foes, and accordingly the former as well as the latter pay him the homage due to intellectual greatness. Thus far all are agreed ; but there is a wide difference of opinion among the most patriotic of his own countrymen, as to whether he has, after all, done much real good for Italy. Nay there are not a few of the same elass who do not scruple to question the purity of bis motives. But before we attempt to discover how much justice or injustice there is in the charge thus implied we will give a brief sketch of Count Cavour's life.
Camillo Benso, Count de Cavour, was born at Turin the 10th of August, 1810, when the French Empire was at the zenith of its splendor. His father, the Marquis Michael Joseph Benso de Cavour, belonged to one of the haughtiest and most aristocratic families in Italy. So fond was he, it seems, of tracing back his pedigree to the middle of the dark ages, and so much disposed to scorn those who, however brilliant in intellect, were of humble birth, that he was one of the most unpopular men of his time. The biographer of his son tells us that even Napoleon disliked him on account of his overweening pride ; although this seems inconsistent with the fact that the Emperor's sister, Pauline Borghese, was one of the sponsors of the future statesman. But we are told that the Marquis was an absolutist as well as an hereditary aristocrat. In other words he was as fond of arguing that there could be no
stable, or good government, of which the head had not absolute power, as he was of boasting that his ancestors were in possession of the fiefs of Chieri so early as the middle of the twelfth century; and it is well known that with the First Napoleon opinions of this kind covered, like charity, a multitude of sins.
Nor was the wife of the Marquis, Adelaide Susanna Sellon, less aristocratic, or less proud of her pedigree, though a native of a republican city, Geneva, where her family had been established for ages. It was but natural that the future Premier should be taught to think like his parents in his early youth ; and in this respect he was no wiser than other children. But he was only nine or ten years
age when he was sent to a Jesuit school. Many of our readers would think that this was not the way to teach him to be liberal, but the result proved the contrary. He was not more than a year in the hands of the Jesuits when his opinions were entirely changed. He no longer thought that there was any merit in belonging to a family that could trace its ancestry back to the dark ages, except in doing so he could also point to their noble and virtuous deeds. Still less did he believe that the best form of government was that in which absolute power was placed in the hands of one man.
His parents were by no means pleased with the change. As soon as they discovered it, they lost no time in remonstrating with his teachers, who made very courteous replies, and gave fair promises, but still continued to pursue the course which they thought was right. When he had attained his tenth year, the Marquis induced a friend to question him in private, in order to ascertain whether he was still democratic in his views. The report made was ast the youth ; and it was immediately decided to withdraw him from the influence of the Jesuits. Not that either his father or mother had any objection to the religious tenets of the Jesuits ; on the contrary, they firmly believed in them as the very best. In short they were as bigoted and intolerant in religion, as they were in politics ; but we may form an opinion of the progress young Cavour made in his education under the tuition of the Jesuits from the fact that now when withdrawn, in his thirteenth year, it was found that he was qualified to enter an advanced class in the Military College of Turin.
Here again his opinions soon underwent a change. At least such was the general impression among those who
knew the family; and that it was not altogether without foundation would appear from his having left the college after a residence of some three years as the page of King Carlo Felice. This position he liked very well until the novelty of it wore away; when his duties began to grow irksome to him to such an extent that he often neglected them, and, after having been duly cautioned two or three times, he was dismissed from Court, though not with any stain of ignominy attached to his name or reputation. There was one excellent trait in the character of his father--he was always anxious that he should have the advantage of the best teachers. He now sent him back to the Military Academy, or rather allowed him to return to that institution, placing him under the tutorship of the celebrated astronomer Plana ; and such was the progress he made, that he was discharged when only eighteen years old, with the rank of a Lieutenant of Engineers. His knowledge of mathematics-especially of engineering—had entitled him to this, according to the laws of the institution. Accordingly, not more than two months had passed when he was sent on active service, in which it became his first duty to draw plans for the construction of a fort designed to guard the road from Genoa to Nice. In reference to this he writes a letter to a friend, in March, 1829, before he attained his twentieth year, in which he says: “I have passed the whole winter in the Appenines to make the plan of a new fort, the object of which would be to close the road between Nice and Genoa."
No sooner did he find himself away from Turin and to some extent his own master (at least so far as the formation of opinion was concerned) than he changed his views once more, becoming more liberal than ever. But he asked himself what was he to do in order to make others think like himself. He knew that by means of his family influence he might easily secure an official position. But here he could address only the aristocracy, the ruling class ; his speeches would seldom if ever reach those whom they were intended to benefit; for although the press was nominally free, it was not the habit with even the most enterprising of the journals, to give reports of debates. While hesitating as to what course was best to be adopted under the circumstances, he visited Paris. There he found the first intellects of the day engaged in the field of journalism. He talked