e publication of my first and
the commencement of my second volume; and the causes must be assigned
of this long delay. 1. After a short holiday, I indulged my curiosity in
some studies of a very different nature, a course of anatomy, which was
demonstrated by Doctor Hunter; and some lessons of chymistry, which were
delivered by Mr. Higgins. The principles of these sciences, and a taste
for books of natural history, contributed to multiply my ideas and
images; and the anatomist and chymist may sometimes track me in their
own snow. 2. I dived, perhaps too deeply, into the mud of the Arian
controversy; and many days of reading, thinking, and writing were
consumed in the pursuit of a phantom. 3. It is difficult to arrange,
with order and perspicuity, the various transactions of the age of
Constantine; and so much was I displeased with the first essay, that I
committed to the flames above fifty sheets. 4. The six months of Paris
and pleasure must be deducted from the account. But when I resumed my
task I felt my improvement; I was now master of my style and subject,
and while the measure of my daily performance was enlarged, I discovered
less reason to cancel or correct. It has always been my practice to cast
a long paragraph in a single mould, to try it by my ear, to deposit it
in my memory, but to suspend the action of the pen till I had given the
last polish to my work. Shall I add, that I never found my mind more
vigorous, not my composition more happy, than in the winter hurry of
society and parliament?

Had I believed that the majority of English readers were so fondly
attached even to the name and shadow of Christianity; had I foreseen
that the pious, the timid, and the prudent, would feel, or affect to
feel, with such exquisite sensibility; I might, perhaps, have softened
the two invidious chapters, which would create many enemies, and
conciliate few friends. But the shaft was shot, the alarm was sounded,
and I could only rejoice, that if the voice of our priests was clamorous
and bitter, their hands were disarmed from the powers of persecution. I
adhered to the wise resolution of trusting myself and my writings to the
candour of the public, till Mr. Davies of Oxford presumed to attack,
not the faith, but the fidelity, of the historian. My Vindication,
expressive of less anger than contempt, amused for a moment the busy and
idle metropolis; and the most rational part of the laity, and even of
the clergy, appear to h