f the science we are
considering, than that which we may deduce from a reflection of
Rousseau. "The ancient historians," says he, "are crowded with those
views of things, from which we may derive the utmost utility, even
though the facts that suggest them, should be mistaken. But we are
unskilled to derive any real advantage from history. The critique of
erudition absorbs every thing; as if it imported us much whether the
relation were true, provided we could extract from it any useful
induction. Men of sense ought to regard history as a tissue of fables,
whose moral is perfectly adapted to the human heart."

The mere external actions of men are not worth the studying: Who would
have ever thought of going through a course of history, if the science
were comprised in a set of chronological tables? No: it is the hearts of
men we should study. It is to their actions, as expressive of
disposition and character, we should attend. But by what is it that we
can be advanced thus far, but by specious conjecture, and plausible
inference? The philosophy of a Sallust, and the sagacity of a Tacitus,
can only advance us to the regions of probability. But whatever be the
most perfect mode of historical composition, it is to the simplest
writers that our youth should be first introduced, writers equally
distant from the dry detail of Du Fresnoy, and the unrivalled eloquence
of a Livy. The translation of Plutarch would, in my opinion, form the
best introduction. As he is not a writer of particular elegance, he
suffers less from a version, than many others. The Roman revolutions of
Vertot might very properly fill the second place. Each of these writers
has this further recommendation, that, at least, in the former part of
their works, they treat of that simplicity and rectitude of manners of
the first Greeks and Romans, that furnish the happiest subject that can
be devised for the initiating youth in the study of history.

Under the restrictions I have laid down, history is of all sciences the
most simple. It has been ever considered by philosophers, as the porch
of knowledge. It has ever been treated by men of literature, as the
relaxation of their feverer pursuits. It leads directly to the most
important of all attainments, the knowledge of the heart. It introduces
us, without expence, and without danger, to an acquaintance with manners
and society. By the most natural advances it points us forward to all
the depths of science. With t