All public actions are subject to uncertain and various interpretations; for too many heads judge of them.  Some say of this civic employment of mine (and I am willing to say a word or two about it, not that it is worth so much, but to give an account of my manners in such things), that I have behaved myself in it as a man who is too supine and of a languid temperament; and they have some colour for what they say.  I endeavoured to keep my mind and my thoughts in repose;

          “Cum semper natura, tum etiam aetate jam quietus;”

          ["As being always quiet by nature, so also now by age.” 
          —­Cicero, De Petit.  Consul., c. 2.]

and if they sometimes lash out upon some rude and sensible impression, ’tis in truth without my advice.  Yet from this natural heaviness of mine, men ought not to conclude a total inability in me (for want of care and want of sense are two very different things), and much less any unkindness or ingratitude towards that corporation who employed the utmost means they had in their power to oblige me, both before they knew me and after; and they did much more for me in choosing me anew than in conferring that honour upon me at first.  I wish them all imaginable good; and assuredly had occasion been, there is nothing I would have spared for their service; I did for them as I would have done for myself.  ’Tis a good, warlike, and generous people, but capable of obedience and discipline, and of whom the best use may be made, if well guided.  They say also that my administration passed over without leaving any mark or trace.  Good!  They moreover accuse my cessation in a time when everybody almost was convicted of doing too much.  I am impatient to be doing where my will spurs me on; but this itself is an enemy to perseverance.  Let him who will make use of me according to my own way, employ me in affairs where vigour and liberty are required, where a direct, short, and, moreover, a hazardous conduct are necessary; I may do something; but if it must be long, subtle, laborious, artificial and intricate, he had better call in somebody else.  All important offices are not necessarily difficult:  I came prepared to do somewhat rougher work, had there been great occasion; for it is in my power to do something more than I do, or than I love to do.  I did not, to my knowledge, omit anything that my duty really required.  I easily forgot those offices that ambition mixes with duty and palliates with its title; these are they that, for the most part, fill the eyes and ears, and give men the most satisfaction; not the thing but the appearance contents them; if they hear no noise, they think men sleep.  My humour is no friend to tumult; I could appease a commotion without commotion, and chastise a disorder without being myself disorderly; if I stand in need of anger and inflammation, I borrow it, and put it on.  My manners are languid, rather faint than sharp.  I do not condemn a magistrate who sleeps, provided the people under his charge sleep as well as he:  the laws in that case sleep too.  For my part, I commend a gliding, staid, and silent life: