knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages, highly ornamental and desirable as it is, certainly is not, in general, necessary for the acquisition of what, in my opinion, may be properly called real learning. The ancient poetry and composition are beautiful, but a critical knowledge of them was not my object. The odes of Pindar and the poems of Homer are very fine; but Varro, Macrobius, and Cicero De Natura Deorum, were more congenial to my pursuits. The languages were valuable to me only as a key to unlock the secrets of antiquity. I beg my reader, therefore, not to expect any of that kind of learning, which would enable a person to rival Porson in filling up the Lacunæ of a Greek play, or in restoring the famous Digamma to its proper place.
But if I had neglected the study of Greek and Latin, I had applied myself to the study of such works as those of Euclid, and of Locke on the Understanding, the tendency of which is to form the mind to a habit of investigation and close reasoning and thinking, and in a peculiar manner to fit it for such inquiries as mine; for want of which habit, a person may possess a considerable knowledge of the Classics, while his mind may be almost incapable of comprehending the demonstration of a common proposition in geometry. In short, we see proofs every day, that a person may be very well skilled in Greek and Latin, while in intellect he may rank little higher than a ploughboy.
Along with the study of the principles of law, whilst at the Temple, I had applied myself also to the acquisition of the art of sifting and appreciating the value of different kinds of evidence, the latter of which is perhaps the most important and the most neglected of all the branches of education. I had also applied myself to what was of infinitely more consequence than all the former branches of study, and in difficulty almost equal to them altogether, namely, to the unlearning of the nonsense taught me in youth.
Literary works at the present day have generally one or both of two objects in view, namely, money and present popularity. But I can conscientiously say, that neither of these has been my leading object. I have become, to a certain extent, literary, because by letters alone could I make known to mankind what I considered discoveries the most important to its future welfare; and no publication has ever been written by me except under the influence of this motive.
When I say that I have not written this work for fame, it must not be understood that I affect to be insensible to the approbation of the great and good: far from it. But if I had my choice, I would rather rank with Epictetus than with Horace, with Cato or Brutus than with Gibbon or Sir Walter Scott. Had either present popularity or profit been my object, I had spared the priests; for, in Britain, we are a priest-ridden race: but though I had died a little richer, I had deserved contempt for my meanness.
My learning has been acquired since I turned forty years of age, for the sole purpose of being enabled to pursue these researches into the antiquities of nations, which, I very early became convinced, were generally unknown or misunderstood. But though I do not pretend to deep classical learning, yet perhaps I may not be guilty of any very inexcusable vanity in saying, that I find myself now, on the score of learning, after twenty years of industry, in many respects very differently circumstanced in relation to persons whom I was accustomed formerly to look up to as learned, from what I was at the beginning of my inquiries; and that now I sometimes find myself qualified to teach those
