reading, or reflection engaged me to make in the reigns of the two
first Stuarts, I have made all them invariably to the Tory side. It
is ridiculous to consider the English constitution before that
period as a regular plan of liberty.

     In 1759, I published my History of the House of Tudor. The
clamour against this performance was almost equal to that against
the History of the two first Stuarts. The reign of Elizabeth was
particularly obnoxious. But I was now callous against the
impressions of public folly, and continued very peaceably and
contentedly in my retreat at Edinburgh, to finish, in two volumes,
the more early part of the English History, which I gave to the
public in 1761, with tolerable, and but tolerable success.

     But, notwithstanding this variety of winds and seasons, to
which my writings had been exposed, they had still been making such
advances, that the copy-money given me by the booksellers, much
exceeded anything formerly known in England; I was become not only
independent, but opulent. I retired to my native country of
Scotland, determined never more to set my foot out of it; and
retaining the satisfaction of never having preferred a request to
one great man, or even making advances of friendship to any of them.
As I was now turned of fifty, I thought of passing all the rest of
my life in this philosophical manner, when I received, in 1763, an
invitation from the Earl of Hertford, with whom I was not in the
least acquainted, to attend him on his embassy to Paris, with a near
prospect of being appointed secretary to the embassy; and, in the
meanwhile, of performing the functions of that office. This offer,
however inviting, I at first declined, both because I was reluctant
to begin connexions with the great, and because I was afraid that
the civilities and gay company of Paris would prove disagreeable to
a person of my age and humour: but on his lordship's repeating the
invitation, I accepted of it. I have every reason, both of pleasure
and interest, to think myself happy in my connexion with that
nobleman, as well as afterwards with his brother, General Conway.

     Those who have not seen the strange effects of modes, will
never imagine the reception I met with at Paris, from men and women
of all ranks and stations. The more I resiled from their excessive
civilities, the more I was loaded with them. There is, however, a
real satisfaction in living at Paris, from the great number of
sensible, knowing, and polite company with which that city abounds
above all places in the universe. I thought once of settling there
for life.

     I was appointed secretary to the embassy; and in summer 1765,
Lord Hertford left me, being appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. I
was <charge d' affaires> till the arrival of the Duke of Richmond,
towards the end of the year. In the beginning of 1766, I left Paris,
and next summer went to Edinburgh, with the same view as formerly,
of burying myself in a philosophical retreat. I returned to that
place, not richer, but with much more money, and a much larger
income, by means of Lord Hertford's friendship, than I left it; and
I was desirous of trying what superfluity could produce, as I had
formerly made an experiment of a competency. But, in 1767, I
received from Mr. Conway an invitation to be Under-secretary; and
this invitation, both the character of the person, and my connexions
with Lord Hertford, prevented me from declining. I returned to
Edinburgh in 1768, very opulent (for I possessed a revenue of 1000L.
a year), healthy, and though somewhat stricken in years, with the
prospect of enjoying long my ease, and of seeing the increase of my
reputation.

     In spring 1775, I was struck with a disorder in my bowels,
which at first gave me no alarm, but has since, as I apprehend it,
become mortal and incurable. I now reckon upon a speedy dissolution.
I have suffered very little pain from my disorder; and what is more
strange, have, notwithstanding the great decline of my person, never
suffered a moment's abatement of my spirits; insomuch, that were I
to name the period of my life, which I should most choose to pass
over again, I might be tempted to point to this later period. I
possess the same ardour as ever in study, and the same gaiety in
company. I consider, besides, that a man of sixty-five, by dying,
cuts off only a few years of infirmities; and though I see many
symptoms of my literary reputation's breaking out at last with
additional lustre, I knew that I could have but few years to enjoy
it. It is difficult to be more detached from life than I am at
present.

     To conclude historically with my own character. I am, or rather
was (for that is the style I must now use in speaking of myself,
which emboldens me the more to speak my sentiments); I was, I say, a
man of mild dispositions, of command of temper, of an open, social,
and cheerful humour, capable of attachment, but little susceptible
of enmity, and of great moderation in all my passions. Even my love
of literary fame, my ruling passion, never soured my temper,
notwithstanding my frequent disappointments. My company was not
unacceptable to the young and careless, as well as to the studious
and literary; and as I took a particular pleasure in the company of
modest women, I had no reason to be displeased with the reception I
met with from them. In a word, though most men any wise eminent,
have found reason to complain of calumny, I never was touched, or
even attacked by her baleful tooth: and though I wantonly exposed
myself to the rage of both civil and religious factions, they seemed
to be disarmed in my behalf of their wonted fury. My friends never
had occasion to vindicate any one circumstance of my character and
conduct: not but that the zealots, we may well suppose, would have
been glad to invent and propagate any story to my disadvantage, but
they could never find any which they thought would wear the face of
probability. I cannot say there is no vanity in making this funeral