When the first volume, recording the events in the reigns of James I. and Charles I., was issued, in 1754, the effects of the author’s earlier training were sufficiently apparent to kindle the wrath of one party without flattering the prejudices of the other. Accordingly, it was assailed by one cry of reproach and disapprobation; the sale was quite inconsiderable, and almost the only token of encouragement worth having came from the Primates of England and Ireland, who advised him to take heart, and proceed in his undertaking. But, whatever may be thought of Hume’s historic leanings and political sympathies, it must be admitted that he acted courageously, conscientiously, and without fishing for the favor of those who had in their hands all the patronage and disposal of such places and rewards as he could have aspired to. He followed what appeared to him the true and just course, notwithstanding the storms to which he felt he would on that account be exposed; and his genius, more potent than had been the swords of his insurgent kinsmen, threw a wall of defense around the memory of the exiled race which, with all its defects, succeeding writers, whatever their ability and energy, have never been skillful and vigorous enough to scale or break down. Nevertheless, the reception of his work inspired him with feelings of such dislike for the British public, that he resolved upon leaving the country, renouncing his name, and passing the remainder of his days on the Continent; but a French war luckily put an end to his scheme of self-expatriation, and he determined to persevere with his laborious and ungrateful task. In 1756 his second volume appeared, and proved not less obnoxious than the first; but by that he had, as he says, “grown callous against the impressions of public folly.” It was fortunate, in any case, that he did not succumb till the tyranny was overpast. His victory was secure, slowly as it might approach.