al to the comfort of human life extend
themselves over the world, and introduce themselves into every cottage,
before any annalist can condescend, from the dignity of writing about
generals and ambassadors, to take the least notice of them. Thus the
progress of the most salutary inventions and discoveries is buried in
impenetrable mystery; mankind are deprived of a most useful species of
knowledge, and their benefactors of their honest fame. In the meantime
every child knows by heart the dates and adventures of a long line of
barbarian kings. The history of nations, in the sense in which I use
the word, is often best studied in works not professedly historical.
Thucydides, as far as he goes, is an excellent writer; yet he affords us
far less knowledge of the most important particulars relating to Athens
than Plato or Aristophanes. The little treatise of Xenophon on Domestic
Economy contains more historical information than all the seven books
of his Hellenics. The same may be said of the Satires of Horace, of
the Letters of Cicero, of the novels of Le Sage, of the memoirs of
Marmontel. Many others might be mentioned; but these sufficiently
illustrate my meaning.

I would hope that there may yet appear a writer who may despise the
present narrow limits, and assert the rights of history over every part
of her natural domain. Should such a writer engage in that enterprise,
in which I cannot but consider Mr Mitford as having failed, he will
record, indeed, all that is interesting and important in military and
political transactions; but he will not think anything too trivial for
the gravity of history which is not too trivial to promote or diminish
the happiness of man. He will portray in vivid colours the domestic
society, the manners, the amusements, the conversation of the Greeks. He
will not disdain to discuss the state of agriculture, of the mechanical
arts, and of the conveniences of life. The progress of painting, of
sculpture, and of architecture, will form an important part of his
plan. But, above all, his attention will be given to the history of that
splendid literature from which has sprung all the strength, the wisdom,
the freedom, and the glory, of the western world.

Of the indifference which Mr Mitford shows on this subject I will not
speak; for I cannot speak with fairness. It is a subject on which I love
to forget the accuracy of a judge, in the veneration of a worshipper
and the gratitude of a child. If