Else,—­if the philosophy of history does not thus depend upon some sort of real conclusions for its notional ones,—­why is it that no such philosophy existed, even in name, among the ancients?  It may be said that some prevailing practical motive is necessary to the existence of philosophy in any field, and that no such motive was present to the ancient mind in this particular field of history.  Admitted; yet this does not at all disturb our position.  No motive would have sufficed for so grand an aim, short of a sublime consciousness regarding the destiny of the human race.  But whence was this consciousness to be derived?  To the ancient mind, the development of the human drama, considered strictly as human, moved within narrow boundaries; traced backward through a number of generations so limited that they might be counted on one’s fingers, the human personae, did not absolutely disappear, but they emerged again, and in a precedent cycle, only as divinities.  The consciousness of human destiny was thus elevated by infinite grades, but not of this destiny as human, as depending for its splendors upon the human will.  It was an exaltation that consisted in the sacrifice of humanity.  No definite records existed through which any previous cycle of human events could be translated into thought; and in default of a human, there was substituted a divine cycle.  From this mythologic past of the ancients was reflected upon their present every-day existence a peculiar glory; but it was not the glory of humanity.  To celestial or infernal powers were attributed the motives and impulses out of which their life was developed, not to the human will.  The future, as a matter of course, partook of this divine investment; so that history to the ancients was something which in either direction was lost in mystery, not a system to be philosophically analyzed, or to be based on principles of any sort.  It is true that in the time of Herodotus, when nations, hitherto insulated, came to know each other better, an interest began to be awakened in history as resting upon a human basis; but this is to be accounted for only by the fact, that each nation coming in contact with another received from it the record of a development differing from its own in the details of outward circumstances, yet similar in certain general features; and in some cases, as in that of Egypt, there was presented an historic epos anterior in time.  But in no case were furnished hints so suggestive as those which ancient history furnishes to us, nor any which would answer the purposes of philosophy; in no case was there presented a completed arch, but only antecedent parts of a structure yet in suspense respecting its own conclusion.  Fate uncourteously insisted upon making her disclosures by separate instalments; she would advance nothing at any rate of discount.  What, therefore, was the ancient philosopher to do?  His reflections concerning the past must of necessity be partial; how much more would his anticipations of the future fail of anything like demonstrative certitude!