In a remote solitude, vanity may still whisper in my ear,
that my readers, perhaps, may inquire whether, in the conclusion
of the present work, I am now taking an everlasting farewell.
They shall hear all that I know myself, and all that I could
reveal to the most intimate friend. The motives of action or
silence are now equally balanced; nor can I pronounce, in my most
secret thoughts, on which side the scale will preponderate. I
cannot dissemble that six quartos must have tried, and may have
exhausted, the indulgence of the Public; that, in the repetition
of similar attempts, a successful Author has much more to lose
than he can hope to gain; that I am now descending into the vale
of years; and that the most respectable of my countrymen, the men
whom I aspire to imitate, have resigned the pen of history about
the same period of their lives. Yet I consider that the annals
of ancient and modern times may afford many rich and interesting
subjects; that I am still possessed of health and leisure; that
by the practice of writing, some skill and facility must be
acquired; and that, in the ardent pursuit of truth and knowledge,
I am not conscious of decay. To an active mind, indolence is
more painful than labor; and the first months of my liberty will
be occupied and amused in the excursions of curiosity and taste.
By such temptations, I have been sometimes seduced from the rigid
duty even of a pleasing and voluntary task: but my time will now
be my own; and in the use or abuse of independence, I shall no
longer fear my own reproaches or those of my friends. I am
fairly entitled to a year of jubilee: next summer and the
following winter will rapidly pass away; and experience only can
determine whether I shall still prefer the freedom and variety of
study to the design and composition of a regular work, which