common Idea which lies at the bottom of them all. The first would be the Chronicler of the Age; the second would have made a History of it a possible thing.
In the first place, if the Philosopher must deduce from the unity of his presupposed principle all the possible phenomena of experience, it is obvious that in the fulfilment of this purpose he does not require the aid of experience; that in following it out he proceeds merely as a Philosopher, confining himself strictly within the limits which that character imposes upon him, paying no respect whatever to experience, and thus absolutely a priori, as this method is termed in scientific phraseology;—and in respect to our own subject it is clear that he must be able a priori to describe Time as a whole, and all its possible Epochs. It is an entirely different question whether the present time be actually characterized by the phenomena that are deduced from the principle which he may lay down, and thus whether the Age so pictured by the speaker be really the Present Age,—should he maintain such a position, as we, for example, shall maintain it. On this part of the subject every man must consult for himself the experience of his life, and compare it with the history of the Past, as well as with his anticipations of the Future; for here the business of the Philosopher is at an end, and that of the Observer of the world and of men begins. We, for our part, intend to be no more than philosophers in this place, and have bound ourselves to nothing more; and thus the final judgment, so soon as you are in a position to pass such a judgment, must devolve upon you. It is now our business, in the first place, strictly to settle and define our theme.
Thus then: Every particular Epoch of Time, as we have already hinted above, is the fundamental Idea of a particular Age. These Epochs and fundamental Ideas of particular Ages, however, can only be thoroughly understood by and through each other, and by means of their
