Such as she bred when fresh and young,
When heavenly flame did animate her clay,
By future poets shall be sung.
“Westward the course of Empire takes its way;
The four first acts already past,
A fifth shall close the drama with the day;
Time’s noblest offspring is the last.”
Most of the critics have omitted to mention Berkeley among the stylists, probably because of the subject-matter of his work; but as a master of language he alone of the philosophers ranks with Plato. A felicity of style, consisting in perfect naturalness and perfect fitness in the choice of words, has been a birthright of great Irishmen. There is perhaps no surer test of delicacy of moral fibre or of intellectual precision than a refinement of touch in language, such as that of Goldsmith and Berkeley.
After the disappointment in the matter of the University in Bermuda, Berkeley devoted himself once more to Philosophy. With Queen Caroline he was so great a favourite that the royal command frequently brought him to the Palace; and when through some official hitch he was disappointed of the Deanery of Down, the Queen signified her pleasure that, since “they would not suffer Dr. Berkeley to be a Dean in Ireland, he should be a Bishop,” and in 1734 appointed him to the See of Cloyne.