17^2. on modern and ancient writing. 123 



addrrfs, and romantic fervour of imagination, which 

 •\ve always meet with in the first eiForts of men. In 

 this state of society, though an historian existed, 

 pofsefsed with all the abilities' of a Tacitus, or a 

 Hume, it would be unreasonable to expect that his 

 page would be adorned with the plans of wisdom, or 

 the sober colouring of nature and truth ; it would be 

 absurd to suppose that he would search into the hu- 

 man mind, for powers that were not yet developed, 

 or account for actions, from motives that were not yet 

 known. Nay, though he were pofsefsed, if it were 

 pofsible, of all the knowledge and philosophy of these 

 celebrated historians, he must first divest himself of 

 his acquisitions, before he can, with the warmth of 

 nature, relate the simple story. But this is almost 

 impofsible ; it is painful to stiffle the illuminations 

 of learning, and it is difficult for human nature to 

 forego the pride of superior knowledge. Accord- 

 ingly we have sometimes seen modern historians, 

 reviewing the artlefs transactions of a rude age, ha- 

 ving their minds filled with the profound policy of 

 Kuropean states, and ^1 the refinements of accumu- 

 ited reflection ; and the simplicity of nature has been 

 disguised, and disfigured, with the theories of poli- 

 tical intrigues, and complicated deliberations. 



Jh learned conimcnlators view 

 In Homer what he never kneiu. 



But .there is no circumstance which has tendedmore 

 to detain those clouds of ignorance, which continue 

 so long to obscure the human mind, as the supersti- 

 tious fondnefs which every age has ffaewn for the 

 a/Tairs of former times, The ctliIj historian, as 



