invariably hindered him and turned him from the right path, in proof of which assertion he brought forward such striking examples as Aristotle’s convulsive endeavors to make each of the senses correspond to one of the four elements in which they believed in his day, and Kepler with his fantastic efforts to prove the supremacy of the Pythagorean seven in the solar system.  The object of the book was to show that the history of human knowledge is a history of false inferences and the erroneous interpretations of correctly observed phenomena, that the increase of knowledge always means the destruction of existing opinions, that of all the scientific systems up to the present day, only those retained their position which proved the futility of earlier theories—­never those which built up new structures on the foundations of the old house of cards that had been blown down.  In a word, that progress means not the acquisition of fresh knowledge, but an ever-extended consciousness of the futility of the knowledge we thought to possess.

Wilhem spared himself no pains with this work.  He brought all the thoroughness and industry of his honest nature to bear upon it, would accept no statement at second-hand, but went for every information to the fountain head.  It would cost an immense amount of time, but after all he had that at his disposal.  There was no need for him to hurry, seeing that he did not write from ambition or for any material advantage, but simply for his own gratification.  He began by rubbing up his school Greek sufficiently to enable him to read the ancient philosophers with ease, which he achieved in a few months, and then set to work to learn Arabic, that being the chief language of science in the Middle Ages.  Schrotter was seriously alarmed at these extensive preparations, and hastened to procure, through his pandit friends, some English extracts from the scientific literature of India, lest Wilhelm might think fit to study Sanscrit, and decades would pass before he came to write the first word of his book.

Thus four years went by, years full of work, though they left no visible traces.  Meanwhile the aspect of things in the new Empire had become very different.  Men breathed the oppressive air with laboring breasts; the bright dawn which promised so glorious a day had, been followed by sullen mists, and the blue sky had disappeared behind heavy, leaden-gray clouds, through which no comforting ray of sunshine pierced.  Where was all the glowing enthusiasm, the rapture of hope and joy that, in the first years after the great war, had flushed every German cheek and lit up every eye?  Throughout the length and breath of the land the opposing factions confronted one another like armed antagonists preparing for a duel to the death.  Town and village rang with execration and satire, with howls of rage or satisfied revenge vented by German against German.  The Roman Catholic shook his clinched fist at the Protestant, the liberal