lieve, quite wanting—a considerable admixture of the moat emin-nl clergy of tho national church, who then found it not inconsistent with theirdu'ies to give nonte p-iri of their lime to general society. The beneficial influence they exercised upon it may be readily understood; but it was by no means greater than the pood effects produced upon their own body liy inning on terms of equality and freedom with laymen at least as intelligent as themselves.

The Preshytcrian establishment is in not a few respects singular among the churches of Christendom. The incitements of their clergy to study, and its rewards, have, from a very early period at least, been few and mean; and the people, interdicting to the clergy, as they do to women, all scholastic learning, seem to have had a prejudice against any accomplishments in their ministers except those of the pulpit. This brought it about that the establishment, which has in all periods produced as exemplary working pastors and as effective preachers as any, had before Hume's day become remarkable through Europe as " tho unlearned church." While this roayijiaToe>o/»ia, as Warburton called it, prevailed, the only learning of churchmen was a lay learning; and the only prizes in the lottery were the city churches— which benefices were additionally coveted for the chance nf holding at the same time a professor's chair in the university. Such combination of ecclesiastical and academical emoluments has within onr own time been condemned as interfering with the due discharge of the sacred function: and we believe the pnctice has been wholly abolished. The results of this reform are not yet of course developed. But it so happened, under the old system, that at the lime we are speaking of, the clergy of Edinburgh numbered among them some men as eminent as Scotland has produced, in various branches of intellectual exertion. Among these, Principal Robertson the historian, the leaderof the dominant (or Moderate) pirty in the Kirk, and Dr. Blair, w hose lectures on rhetoric and belles lettres were once much esteemed, though he is now chiefly remembered by his sermons, were favorite, but by no means preeminent members of the society into which Hume »'i« now admitted. It excited some surprise in various quarters then, and continues t» do so, that such clergymen should have consented to live on terms of familiar intercourse with one who held and published doctrines like those of Home. We do not wish to enter into that question on thia occasion: if Mr. Burton's work may he r-|. d im as a complete authority, and we know -if little in opposition to it on this head, it must ho our conclusion that the npan and avowed friendship which existed between them, did not at the time and on the spot affect injuriously the professional reputation and influence nf those clergymen, who yet were sufficiently exposed to criticism from the conspicuous place they filled, and the violence of church parties at the period.* There

• Rnt>Tt«nn had f«r hi* conrljutor in htv cure the leader of the npno»iie (or /fur1'flying-) pari)' of the Kirk. Thin was Dr. John firskiiic, lite preacher whom Plevdcll look Colonel Munn<*ring t'» hear on hi* first vi»it to fcdinlmrgh —who "had ncMom heard m much learning, mrtaphjucal aculcncv and energy of argument hrou^hl into the service of Christianity." Dr. Ertkine was a divine of the most rigid ami severe Calvinisiic nchool; snu he was also a descended gentleman of the purest troth and honor. Roliertwwi and he were, through life, opposed on all question* of church government and politics ; yet they spent their days in the common duties of their ministry

are two letters which throw light upon the furhearance exercised by those men of opposite principles, and with them we will leave ihe nutter, merely unserving that Bishop Butler not Ociit exchanged the common civilities of life with Haras? after having received bis treatise, " but everywhere recommended his moral and political esaaya" II was not lo such men that Hume's metaphysical inquiries could prove dangerous; while the parity of his life commanded respect, and his benevolent and kindly nature (for which we need not appeal to the imagination of Henry Mackenzie and the beautiful story of La Roche) recommended bio lo their affection. The first of the following extracts is from a letter of Hume (in 1761) to Dr. Blair :—

"Permit me the freedom of saying a word la yourself. Whenever I have had the pleasure to be in your company, if the discourse turned upon any common subject of literature or reasoning, I always parted from you both entertained and instructed. But when the conversation wss diverted by you from this channel towards the subject of your profession, though 1 doubt not but your intentioaa were very friendly towards me, I own I never received the same satisfaction: I was apt to be tired, and you to be angry. I would therefore wish, for the future, whenever my good fortune throws ma in your way, that these topics should be forborne between us. I have long since done with all inquiries on such subjects, and am become incapable of instruction; though I own no one is more capable of conveying it than yourself."—Vol. ii., p. 117.

The next is part of a letter to Hume from Dr. Campbell, the author of a well received and able answer to his " Essay on Miracles:"—

"25/A June, 1762.

"The testimony yno arc pleased lo give to favor of my performance, is an honor of which I should be entirely unworthy, were I not sensible of the uncommon generosity you hare shown is giving it. Ever since I was acquainted with your works, your talents as a writer have, notwithstanding some differences in abstract principles, extorted from me the highest veneration. But I could scarce have thought that, in spite of differences of a more interesting nature, even such aa regards morals and religion, you could ever force me lo love and honor you as a man. Yet no religious prejudices (as you would probably term them) can hinder me from doing justice to that goodness and candor which appear in every line of yuur letter.

"There is in all controversy a struggle for victory, which I may say compels one to lake every fair advanlago that either the sentiments or the words of an antagonist present him with. But the appearances of asperity or raillery, which one will be thereby necessarily drawn into, ought not to be construed as in the least affecting the habitual good opinion, or even the high esteem, which the writer may nevertheless entertain of his adversary."—p. 119.

It is more pleasing to look on this society h another light. Home's success in letters was the beginning of the brilliant period of Edinburgh literature. Before him no Scotchman had done anything to redeem his country from the provincialism into which the union had cast it. He had Mm his ambition on two roads of literary distinction, sod

with mutual reaped, and Krskine lived to preset) a from! sermon hennng tcxiiinooy to the high merit of his filtad, colleague, sod rival.

k* was eminently successful in both. He was followed in his philosophical career by his friend Adam Ferguson; and, with greater influence and (line, by their common friend Adam Smith. Robertson for a season divided the opinions of the world with Hume in the field of history; and a twann of lesser aspirants were cherished into life by their success. To all these ardent sons of letters Hume was the kind and generous encourager. There was no petty jealousy in his nature. He not wly supported Blacklock, the poor blind poet, and John Home, the author of" Douglas," but he wok pleasure and gloried in each new success of friends whom he felt to be no mean rivals in his •wn walk: and he lived on terms of entire confidence and the most playful intimacy with men •hose names and works will live as long as his When Robertson was preferred for the office of Historiographer, with a salary which then would *t*e fulfilled Hume's utmost ambition, he cave way to no envious complainings. We learn from i note of Dr. Carlyle,# that "Honest David Hime, with a heart of all others that rejoices most at the prosperity of his friends, was certainly a little hurl with this last honor conferred on Robertson," (vol. ii., p. 164.) There are loo few instances of such society to pass this over without astiee. Hume writes to Robertson (1758) on the publication of his " History of Scotland :"—

"I am diverting myself with the notion how •aeh yon will profit by the applause of my eneanes in Scotland. Had you and 1 been such fools si t» have given way to jealousy, to have enternined animosity and malignity against each other, sad to have rent sll our acquaintance into parties, what a noble amusement we should have exhibited tnthe blockheads, which now they are likely to be dutppoinled of! All the people whose friendship •fjodgment either of us value, are friends to both, •ad will be pleased with the success of both, as we will be with that of each other."—Vol. ii.. p. 40.

We heartily agree wilh our author—" There is ao passage in literary history, perhaps, more truly dignified than the perfect cordiality and sincere interchange of services between two men whose dtinw on the admiration of the world came in so Hose competition with each other." (Vol. ii., p.

Even the philosophical party most opposed to Haine were won by his placid and courteous reception of their works. Reid, their leader, (a clergyman also, by the way.) acknowledges his " candor •ad generosity towards an antagonist;" and coneludes a remarkable letter, in which he avows him«lf Hume's "disciple in metaphysics," with the following words:—

"When yon have seen the whole of my perferaance, 1 shall take it as a very great favor to have your opinion upon it, from which I make no ••obi of receiving light, whether I receive conviction or no. Your friendly adversaries, Drs. Camp

• Our readers will find some information about this gentfcman, the once celebrated minister of Musselburgh, and ■wt of the other friends of Hume's Edinburgh circle, in {•e article on "Mackenzie's Life of John Home," conlri"»«ut Fir W. Scott to this Review, (Q.R., vol. xxxvi.,) Jjd now included in his "Miscellaneous Prose Works." ■J. Burton seems to think that Dr. Carlyle's I'mrv, *»ich Henry Mackenzie had before him when he wrote ■kseoooot of John Home, has now perished. Much enJwtarompnt might have been expected from it—and we jgpellr. Burton is mistaken; but Baron Hume's exam]*B»y have influenced the witty Doctor's represents

bell and Gerard, as well as Dr. Gregory, return their compliments to you respectfully. A little philosophical society here, [Aberdeen,] of which all the three are members, is much indebted to you for its entertainment. Your company would, although we are all good Christians, be more acceptable than that of St. Athanasius ; and since we cannot have you upon the bench, you are brought oftener than any other man to the bar, accused and defended with great zeal, but without bitterness. If you write no more in morals, politics, or metaphysics, I am afraid we shall be at a loss for subjects.'' —p. 155.

Hume was now installed in the Advocates' Library, writing, currente calamo, his great work. We have noticed the first announcement of the undertaking in a letter of January, 1753—by which time he had done the reign of James I.; and we have the author chanting jamque ojnis exegi, on the 1st of September, 1754, (p. 397.) In so short a space was composed the first volume, and the most important one, of that history which, as he himself pleasantly said—" only displeased all the whigs—and all the tories—and all the Christians," and which has continued to be lead ever since by all the three classes, and by all the world.

Of the merits and faults of Hume's " History of England," of the reasons of its short coining, the causes of its success, and the extent of its influence, perhaps enough lias been written; but the subject is interesting, and one or two points, we think, have not been rightly considered.

The earliest of Hume's writings, in his biograper's opinion, is an " Essay on Chivalry," (p. 19,) which is remarkable chiefly for the choice of the suhject by a writer who cannot sympathize with or even allow for any of the peculiar feelings on which the whole fabric of chivalry was founded. He could never read Froissart; he despised him"; everything of romance was only so much of barbarism. Gothic architecture, the churches and castles of an early time, were monuments of dark superstition and brutal tyranny, in whose history he took no delight. He contemned the people of medieval Europe, and all their institutions. The clergy were ruthless bigots, or brazen impostors, domineering intriguers, or lazy voluptuaries—the laity fierce and ignorant savages. He saw nothing admirable in man but high-dressed civilization, and he could not even condescend to trace its history and progress to a ruder age. He was,though but a slender classical scholar, a classicist beyond reason and all modern belief. Though he tried to "recover his Greek," he had no idea of any poetry beyond the smooth and high-polished iEneid. It is fortunate that Burns came too late to disturb his equanimity. Scott would have driven the philosopher mad. Wilkie's "Epigoniad" (which of our readers has tried to read it?) he considered "foil of sublimity and genius," (ii., p. 25.) Writing of Home's first tragedy before he had seen it, he says, " It is very likely to meet with success, and not to deserve it; for the author tells me he is a great admirer of Shakspeare, and never read Racine," (p. 316.) But he found he was mistaken, and he praises "Douglas:"—"The author I thought had corrupted his taste by the imitation of Shakspeare, whom he ought only to have admired. But he has composed a new tragedy on the subject of invention, and here he appears a true disciple of Sophocles and Racine. I hope in time he will vindicate the English stage frum the reproach of barbarism." (p. 399.) It it in this insensibility to the feelings and motives of a rude though vigorout age we can trace one principal cause of the failure nf Hume's "History," especially of the early period. Mr. Burton gives us his own "character of a complete history," (vol. ii., pp. 133-7,) not the best part of the editor's lucubrations. He rests much on the incompatibility of minute antiquarian research with the higher duty of an historian. We think him mistaken; but if all the necessary materials had been collected to his hand, and he bad used ibem all, Hume could not have written a satisfactory history of the earlier times of England. He might have emptied the whole Saxon Chronicle and Domesday into his volumes, and crowded his margins with Palgrave and Thorpe; he could never have produced a fitting history of old England. The man who looked upon the introduction of Christianity as a monkish juggle, who could trace nothing of the sturdy English character to the Anglo-Saxon institutions, to whose eyes all bishops and priests were but fat encumberers of the soil, and knights and heralds brought up no image but of violence and rapine, could never have handled well the old " History of England," under whatever rule, be it Saxon, Norman, or Plantagenet. He could not sympathize with the past—he did not think it worth while even to try to understand it.

But now comes the more difficult question of the cause of so much misrepresentation in the "History of the Stuarts." Here was a time of sufficient civilisation—a war of fine principles for choice. Royalty and loyalty on the one hand— freedom and the commons on the other. Then why has Hume in some respects failed? Why was the first philosophical historian of modern times a partial one? It appears to us there are several concurring causes. In the middle of last century, when Hume wrote, criticism was in its infancy—historical criticism unknown. The weighing of evidence of fact, or calm and dispassionate balancing of party principles, was not yet dreamt of. Historians everywhere were still undisguised partisans. For some lime, too, whig or revolution politics, as they were called, had been in the ascendant, and were supported with intemperance and unfairness. The most candid man, applying his mind to history st such a time, might feel inclined to throw his weight into the opposite scale, and consider himself as on the whole serving the cause of justice in furnishing a refined pleading for the depressed party. In painting the royalists, in the great struggle of principles, in their own colon; in giving to loyally, to love of order, to disgust at fanaticism, that prominence which they really had in the minds of the saner portion of the Cavalier party, Hume was setting forth a part of Iks truth—contributing something which was then as necessary to the just appreciation of the spirit of the age as if he had applied himself to sifting proofs snd examining documents. That in thus writing, however, he neglected the greatest and hif heat duty of his office—that he left the seat of judgment fur the pleader's bar—will not now be denied. He wrote as sn advocate, and the opposition his history met with only stimulated his advocacy.

"In this sew edition," he writes to Elliot in June, 1763, "1 have corrected several mistakes and oversights, which had chiefly proceeded from the plaguy prejudices of whiggism, with which I was loo much infected whea I began this work.

I corrected some of these mistakes in a former edition; but being resolved to add to this edition the quotations of authorities for the reigns of James L and Charles I., I was obliged to run over again the most considerable authors who had treated of these reigns; and I happily discovered some more saistakes, which I have now corrected. As I began the History with these two reigns, I now find that they, above all the rest, have been corrupted with whig rancor, and that I really deserved the name of a parly writer, and boasted without any foundation of my impartiality; but if yes now do me the honor to give this part of ay work a second perusal, I am persuaded that you will no longer throw on me this reproachful eatthet, and will acquit me of all propensity U> whiggism. If you still continue to upbraid me, I shali be obliged to retaliate on you, and cry, Whig volume inc.

"In page 33, vol. v., you will find a full justification of the impositions laid on by James I. without authority of parliament; in pages 113, 114, 389, a justification of persecuting the Puritans; ta page 180, a justification of Charles I. for levyisg tonnage and poundage without consent of pariiament. • • • •

"I now justify James II. store explicitly in his exercise of the dispensing power, which was intimately interwoven with the constitution and monarchy."—Vol. ii., pp. 144, 146.

We must admit that Hume only fell half lbs force of the words he quotes of bis Greek master, when he professed to write his History as a fotsession forever.

Another reason remains behind. We believe Hume sat down to plan his History partly at a charming exercitation of his metaphysical mind. He wrote tbe "History of the Stuarts" with no more sifting of evidence than he bestowed on his "Essay on the Authenticity of Osaian," (vol. u., p. 36.) It did not enter into his plan to grab oat received errors, and establish facts by proof. He chose an interesting bero, as he admonished Robertson to do, (vol. ii., p. 84.) The leading incidents were notorious and popular, as fits the groundwork of a drama, and he went on in a temper and spirit with which his idol Racine might sit down to pen a tragedy. Of minor matters lie did nut regard so much what was actually fact as whst was poetically true. He had a wide canvass, sad the outline of a fine aubject—

"Presenting Thebes or Pelops' line;"

and if he did not group hia figures in the best coatposition, and throw his lights secundum mrtmn, he had himself to blame. There are many who think it is a pity to shake our confidence in Livy't History, whea all our school philosophy is founded es his facts. Hume might defend himself so; aad had no objection that his History, in like roannet might be considered as "philosophy teaching by examples," though the examples were often idealBuFhe says of himself, "a passion fur literals!* was the ruling passion of my life;" snd the not point was In schieve s great literary triumph—*> produce a finished and perfect historical tragedy that might rival in plot, in Jcnowmmt, in highwrought interest, ss well ss in grace aad beauty of diction, one of the great works of ancient art. Taking this object as paramount, there cannot be a doubt that the Royalist wsa the poetical sad proper tragic version to sdopt; snd Hume fur lb* lime threw aside bis whiggism, which he had not vst got rid of in real life, as well as his skeptical weighing and examination of principles, and in the idealizing process kept only the figures, and names, and dates, and landmarks of actual events, and threw ovenfthem the coloring of the artist, the mist of the magician, where "all was delusion, nought was truth." With these views, taking Charles as tire centre of his composition, Hume pare him all the interest he could heap upon him, according to his notions. To have represented him as strict and rigid even to austerity, in religious tenets and observances, as he in later life certainly was, would have lowered him in the philosopher's eye: moreover, it would have interfered with the anisiic simplicity of effect, which required the dark side of rebellion to be made darker with unrelieved fanaticism. The oppressions of the law, the illegal extortion of money on the king's side, which every one now admits, are not passed over, nor denied, nor palliated; but by a single aash of the brush, the shadow of the picture is made to cover them so that the eye never rests on them. The iron severity of Strafford, the bigotry and oppression of Laud, the tergiversation of Charles —* deep blemish in a noble nature—all are there, but huddled into the background; while the artist brings into the full blaze of his sunshine the amiable and heroic qualities of the king, the courage •ad genius of his great minister, and even the primate's seal and genuine piety, to increase the tragic effect of their sufferings and death. It is done with admirable skill; and the spectator, enchanted with the picture, rejects all criticism •gainst the truth of its facts. The story flows on to sweetly, it is impossible to stop it to ask the Upertineiit question, " Is it true?"

In this artist skill the historian of the House of Stuart is unrivalled. You can find few false statements or mistakes on matters of any real importinee—not many suppressions of fact. You can nrely detect any ingenious sophistry. Praise and Mime are duly awarded where merited. But all i» made subservient to the "effect" which the treat picture must produce to be perfect as a work of art.

It is here that Hume shows his mastery, more than in any perfection of mere style and language; »t«l yet the easy, equal, sustained style of the historian was well suited to his object, and, indolent •* he certainly was in many points, this achievement was the result of much study and labor well concealed. It never falls below the dignity and interest of the narrative, and shuns all flights that might distract the attention from the great scene •pread before us.

In Hume's lime and for long after, (and perhaps it is so still,) no Scotchman wrote English without f-ar of blunders; and Hume was peculiarity sensitive in this matter. Even when success might b»»e given confidence, his correspondence shows «» how careful he was to have the assistance of on Knglish friends for purifying his language of its northern spots and turns. By what discipline f'uld one thus suffering under the irksome dread of provincialism school himself into the easy seeming language of Hume? He has furnished us with no key to this himself. In the dearth of other information, we have looked over the index of his philosophical works to find the authors looted or referred to. At the same time we know bow fallacious it is to rest on such foundations. It U one thing to cite an author and another to hue atudied his style; and perhaps the man who

is most imbued with the spirit and language of a great writer is least likely to make actual quotations from his page. There are evidently other causes which derange the calculation. The authorities produced must of course often depend more upon the subject in hand than on the familiar reading of the writer; and the author of the essay "On the Populousness of Ancient Nations" was necessarily led by his subject to consult books that might be foreign to his general studies and taste. Still the point is not without interest, and something may be found from such an inquiry. We give it for no more than it is worth.

The index of a common edition of the collected Essays, professing to notice all the authors quoted or remarked upon, gives the names of forty Greek writers, thirty-eight Latin, twenty-eight French, nineteen English, nine Italian. Of the Greek authors, Diodorus Siculus and Plutarch are each cited about thirty times :—Polybius, Xenophon, and Strabo, about half as often:—Herodotus, Thucydides, Demosthenes, and Lucian, each about twelve times;—Plato and Aristotle, each nine times;—Hesiod, Lysias, seven times each; Homer five times; and no other Greek authors so often as these. Of Latin writers, Tacitus is quoted twenty-four times; the elder Pliny, fifteen; Cicero, nineteen ; Horace, fourteen ; Livy, twelve; Columella, seven; Quinctilian and Ca-sar, each six; Martial, four; Pelronius and Virgil, each thrice; Terence, twice. Of French writers, he cites Fontenelle four times; the Abbe* Dubos as often; Racine thrice; Rochefoucault twice; Voltaire and Boileau, each once. Among the Italians. Machiavelli is quoted seven times; Ariosto and Guicciardini, each twice; Boccaccio, once. His English authorities are still more curious. He quotes Bacon and Locke, each seven times; Pope, five times; Swift, thrice; Shakspeare, twice; Bolingbroke, twice; Berkeley, Hutchinson, Addison, Prior, Parnell, each once. He quotes three or four early fathers; two modern theologians; the Bible, the Koran, and Cervantes, each once.

Now undoubtedly, such a list shows extensive research and study; and it would be hard to find an instance where a great array of authorities is used to better account than in the " inquiry regarding the populousness of ancient nations." His correspondence also is full of classical quotations and allusions. There is, however, something in the manner of the references which frequently suggests the idea, that the author consulted his Greek authors in the Latin translations; and there is a small slip of mpoc, meaning "blood," in one of his last letters, (ii. p. 504,) which is scarcely consistent with any habitual reading of Greek. He had evidently no familiar acquaintance with tho Greek dramatists, probably not more than the French books of belles-lettres supplied. Homer he undoubtedly read in the original, and he loves to quote him even in his familiar letters, but too correctly, and as if he had the book open to make the quotation. Thucydides he must have studied; and he knew how to value the great historian when he pronounces " the first page of his work the commencement of real history." (Essay on Eloquenct.) He appreciated the clearness and truth of Xenophon and Cesar; but his admiration was reserved for the mixed historical and romantic biographies of Plutarch, which he recommended to Robertson as a model, and of which he himself at one time meditated a translation, (vol. ii., p. 84.) Hume knew Cicero well. Horace, and still mora Virgil, he oftrn r)»nted from memory in his letters, supply in? or altering as lie best could. He probably rend Latin with sufficient case—but it is evident that he had never studied the language with any sort of care.* As for English, it would seem that Hume scarcely studied in that language, except when the subject on which he was engaged compelled him, or read its authors for his pleasure. He certainly drew none of his language from the "pure well of English undefiled." The Bible, the best book for the study of the present English tongue, he was not likely to dwell upon. Shakspearc and Junson, Beaumont and Fletcher, were barbarous, neglecting the unities and so forth; Milton, though learned in all the learning of the classics, was no classicist, and, moreover, was fanatical; the band of writers who first wielded English prose as masters were mostly churchmen, and were indeed in his time generally disregarded or unknown. Bacon he had read, but only for his philosophy. Johnson had not yet directed the student of English composition to give his days and nights to Addison; and though Robertson was never weary of poring over Swift, it may be doubted if Hume could appreciate the most idiomatic of modern English styles. He chose his models and his rules elsewhere. He studied the Parisian writers on criticism and belles-lettres; followed Boileau and his school; aflected to rave of Sophocles and Racine as near of kin; and, without an intimate knowledge of the languages of the classics, or a heartfelt appreciation of their spirit, still set them up as the ideal objects of his imitation both in form and essence.

It was undoubtedly on those models that he formed his style : but he bestowed upon it no common labor, and brought to the study no common qualifications. Clear good sense, an admirable precision of thought and reasoning, gave a similar precision and transparency of diction: a remarkable simplicity of mind, joined to a quick sense of the ridiculous, guarded him against attempting too high a flight. Thes>" qualities of his nature, with a never-ceasing watchfulness of his words.f enabled him to produce a narrative which, without the gracefulness of native and racy English, has the great merit of expressing his sense clearly and simply, and, by a wonderful art, leading us to forget the writer and the language under the fascination of his story. There is no greater triumph in this department, hut it is the victory of thinking rather than of writing.

Much as we should wish to keep company with Hume in the society nf his Edinburgh friends, we should be unreasonable to expect it. The resi

• One specimen of verse, when Hume was forty-five, may suffice. Il must have been a strange ear that allowed this mangling of an Ovidmu hexameter.

Nam simut ac met calurrant prctora mine.-(ii, p. 20,)

The grammar if worthy of the quantity. He plainly intended catuerant to mean heaUtt, and u> govern prciora.

1 The rare of hi* slyle appears even in hi« letter*, many of which are preserved in the first draft, and show constant correction whore another word or phrase seemed neater llian that Ant chosen. The ume practice is met wuh even in ilir Idler* actually sent to his familiars, and —what is not always the ciu»e with others—his alterations wrrr alwayi for the better. Hit style of letterwhim? Ufmne much easier as he advanced in life, and is his later correspondence he gave up a practice which oflendt Ihc rra-lcr ol his (collected) early letters,—repeating Un uinr stury, or thought, or play of word*—sometime* almoii m the tame phrase, in tevaral lettert, to dif(snot fhcoda.

dence at Grignan stops the correspondence of lb* queen of letter-writers. When Hume is quietly placed among his dearest friends, and busy wttk his great work, he cannot have much time or occasion for letter-writing. The incidrnt of his quarrel with the learned body of lawyers, whose officer he was, for polluting the shelves nf a great puMic library, in fact the national depositoiy of literature, with the works of Lafonlaine and CrebUlon, (p. 395,) is ridiculous enough, unless it was a mere pretex for attacking him, when it becomes something worse. But he was able now to stand alone. His works were rising in popularity and pr< nt. We find notices of several visits to London in connexion with new editions. He had moved in 1763 from his " tenement" in Riddell's Land to a more spacious house which he bought in St. James' Court—the same flat, as Mr. Burton proves by a legal document, in which Botwell afterwards received Johnson—though Bony of course did not tell his guest the name of his landlord. In 1763 he wrote to Adam Smith :—" I set up a chaise in May next: and you may be sure a journey to Glasgow will be one of the first I shall undertake." (Vol. ii., p. 148.) In short, he was advancing in the steady progress of an industrious and prudent and most successful literary man, surrounded by friends and all comforts, now playing the bountiful host in his own house to a band of guests such as will never meet again, now enjoying the freedom of the " Poker" club—when the quiet tenor of his days was interrupted by his visit to Paris as secretary to Lord Hertford, the English ambassador.

Hume's reception and success in Paris (1764-4 -6) were enough to turn almost anv head; and they had some effect upon his. His skeptical philosophy, distasteful even then to the general mind of England, was received with universal applause in the circle of encyclopedists. His history had already drawn upon him the volunteered correspondence of the Comlesse de BoufnVrs, aod he was assured of a general welcome. To prepare him the more to enjoy it, he had to contrast it with a decided want of success in London society. He never loved the English ; and, in the lime of Hume and Lord Bute, North Britons were not popular in the south. He wrote thus bitterly to Elliot :—

'• I believe, taking the continent of Europe from Petersburg to Lisbon, and from Bergen to Naples, there is not one who ever heard my name who has not heard of it with advantage, both in point of morals and genius. I do not nelieve there is one Englishman in fifty who, if lie hoard I had broke my neck to-night, would be sorry; some, because I am not a whig ; some, because I am not a Christian; and all, because I am a Scotsman. Can you seriously talk of my continuing an Englirfaiiian' Am I or you an Englishman' Do they not treat with derision our pretensions to that name, and with hatred our just prrtrnstoni la nrpats and gorcrn them ' "—Vol. il., p. 238.

And again, to Dr. Blair :—

"There is a very remarkable difference between London and Paris; nf which 1 gs\e warning to Helvetius, when he went over lately to England, and of which he told me, on his return, he was fully sensible. If a man have the misfortune, in the former place, to attach himself to letters, even if he succeeds, I know not with whom ho is to live, nor how he is to pass his time in a amiable society. The little company there that is worth

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