t that they are exactly at
the point from which they started.

This circumstance explains why it is that, every thirty years or so,
science, literature, and art, as expressed in the spirit of the time,
are declared bankrupt. The errors which appear from time to time amount
to such a height in that period that the mere weight of their absurdity
makes the fabric fall; whilst the opposition to them has been gathering
force at the same time. So an upset takes place, often followed by an
error in the opposite direction. To exhibit these movements in their
periodical return would be the true practical aim of the history of
literature: little attention, however, is paid to it. And besides, the
comparatively short duration of these periods makes it difficult to
collect the data of epochs long gone by, so that it is most convenient
to observe how the matter stands in one's own generation. An instance of
this tendency, drawn from physical science, is supplied in the Neptunian
geology of Werter.

But let me keep strictly to the example cited above, the nearest we can
take. In German philosophy, the brilliant epoch of Kant was immediately
followed by a period which aimed rather at being imposing than at
convincing. Instead of being thorough and clear, it tried to be
dazzling, hyperbolical, and, in a special degree, unintelligible:
instead of seeking truth, it intrigued. Philosophy could make no
progress in this fashion; and at last the whole school and its method
became bankrupt. For the effrontery of Hegel and his fellows came to
such a pass,--whether because they talked such sophisticated nonsense,
or were so unscrupulously puffed, or because the entire aim of this
pretty piece of work was quite obvious,--that in the end there was
nothing to prevent charlatanry of the whole business from becoming
manifest to everybody: and when, in consequence of certain disclosures,
the favor it had enjoyed in high quarters was withdrawn, the system was
openly ridiculed. This most miserable of all the meagre philosophies
that have ever existed came to grief, and dragged down with it into the
abysm of discredit, the systems of Fichte and Schelling which had
preceded it. And so, as far as Germany is concerned, the total
philosophical incompetence of the first half of the century following
upon Kant is quite plain: and still the Germans boast of their talent
for philosophy in comparison with foreigners, especially since an
English writer has been