ty which, _for us_, is
blind. For, an order that is hidden is equivalent to chance, so far as
knowledge is concerned; and if we believe it to exist, we do so in the
face of the fact that all we see, and all we _can_ see, is the opposite
of order, namely lawlessness. Human knowledge, on this view, would be
subjected to law in its details and compartments, but to disorder as a
whole. Thinking men would be organized into regiments; but the regiments
would not constitute an army, nor would there be any unity of movement
in the attack on the realm of ignorance.

But, such is not the conclusion to which the study of human history
leads, especially when we observe its movements on a large scale. On the
contrary, it is found that history falls into great epochs, each of
which has its own peculiar characteristics. Ages, as well as nations and
individuals, have features of their own, special and definite modes of
thinking and acting. The movement of thought in each age has its own
direction, which is determined by some characteristic and fundamental
idea, that fulfils for it the part of a working hypothesis in a
particular science. It is the prerogative of the greatest leaders of
thought in an age to catch a glimpse of this ruling idea when it first
makes its appearance; and it is their function, not only to discover it,
but also to reveal it to others. And, in this way, they are at once the
exponents of their time, and its prophets. They reveal that which is
already a latent but active power--"a tendency"; but they reveal it to a
generation which will see the truth for itself, only after the potency
which lies in it has manifested itself in national institutions and
habits of thought and action. _After_ the prophets have left us, we
believe what they have said; as long as they are with us, they are
voices crying in the wilderness.

Now, these great ideas, these harmonies of the world of mind, first
strike upon the ear of the poet. They seem to break into the
consciousness of man by the way of emotion. They possess the seer; he is
divinely mad, and he utters words whose meaning passes his own calmer
comprehension. What we find in Goethe, we find also in a manner in
Browning: an insight which is also foresight, a dim and partial
consciousness of the truth about to be, sending its light before it, and
anticipating all systematic reflection. It is an insight which appears
to be independent of all method; but it is in nature, though