affirm nothing save that which is actually established. His denial of the independent existence of matter looks at first sight like a metaphysical leap foretokening the more fatal leaps of the German idealists; but to his mind it was merely the consequence of a more exact and positive examination of human knowledge—a conclusion that might serve to drive the cold spectres of metaphysics out of every head and every school. "I am more for reality than any other philosopher," said he in youth in his Commonplace Book,[1] in which he was assembling the materials for his work on The Principles of Human Knowledge. And again: "Mem. To be eternally banishing Metaphysics, etc., and recalling men to Common Sense."[2]
Furthermore, like a good Englishman and a good practical man, he scorned all that which is of no use to mankind. For him the word "useless" was tantamount to an unanswerable objection, a definitive condemnation. The value of his theories lay, to his mind, in their theological implications—ultimately, therefore, in their social and moral efficacy.
This practical spirit led him to hate anything long or complicated. He started out by trying to make arithmetic briefer and easier. Later he
