Volume 2 — CHAPTER XVII. (continued 2)

Previous to his journey to Bath, which has to be presently narrated, Hume appears to have informed Smith of the desire expressed in his will, that he should undertake the publication of the "Dialogues on Natural Religion." The intimation was probably verbal, as it does not form part of any letter among Hume's papers. Elliot was opposed to the publication of this work. Blair pleaded strongly for its suppression; and Smith, who had made up his mind, that he would not edit the work, seems to have desired that the testamentary injunction laid on him might be revoked. Hume, however, before his death, took effectual steps to guard against its suppression.

Thus, after having good-naturedly abstained, for nearly thirty years, from the publication of a work, which might give pain and umbrage to his dearest friends; at the close of life, and when the lapse of time since it was written might have been supposed to render him indifferent to its fate,—because there appeared some danger of its final suppression, he took decided and well pondered steps to avert from it this fate. Such was the character of the man!

Hume to Adam Smith.

"London, 3d May, 1776.

"My dear Friend,—I send you enclosed an ostensible letter, conformably to your desire. I think, however, your scruples groundless. Was Mallet any wise hurt by his publication of Lord Bolingbroke? He received an office afterwards from the present king and Lord Bute, the most prudish men in the world; and he always justified himself by his sacred regard to the will of a dead friend. At the same time, I own that your scruples have a specious appearance. But my opinion is, that if upon my death you determine never to publish these papers, you should leave them sealed up with my brother and family, with some inscription that you reserve to yourself the power of reclaiming them whenever you think proper. If I live a few years longer, I shall publish them myself. I consider an observation of Rochefoucault, that a wind, though it extinguishes a candle, blows up a fire.

"You may be surprised to hear me talk of living years, considering the state you saw me in, and the sentiments which both I and all my friends at Edinburgh entertained on that subject. But though I cannot come up entirely to the sanguine notions of our friend John, I find myself very much recovered on the road, and I hope Bath waters and farther journeys, may effect my cure.

"By the little company I have seen, I find the town very full of your book, which meets with general approbation. Many people think particular points disputable; but this you certainly expected. I am glad that I am one of the number; as these points will be the subject of future conversation between us. I set out for Bath, I believe, on Monday, by Sir John Pringle's directions, who says, that he sees nothing to be apprehended in my case. If you write to me (hem! hem!) I say if you write to me, send your letter under cover to Mr. Strahan, who will have my direction."[492:1]

The "ostensible letter" which was to serve as Smith's justification, if he should decline to follow the injunctions of the will, is as follows:—

"London, 3d May, 1776.

"My dear Sir,—After reflecting more maturely on that article of my will by which I left you the disposal of all my papers, with a request that you should publish my 'Dialogues concerning Natural Religion,' I have become sensible that, both on account of the nature of the work, and of your situation, it may be improper to hurry on that publication. I therefore take the present opportunity of qualifying that friendly request. I am content to leave it entirely to your discretion, at what time you will publish that piece, or whether you will publish it at all.

"You will find among my papers a very inoffensive piece, called "my own Life," which I composed a few days before I left Edinburgh; when I thought, as did all my friends, that my life was despaired of. There can be no objection, that the small piece should be sent to Messrs. Strahan and Cadell, and the proprietors of my other works, to be prefixed to any future edition of them."[493:1]

Smith did not absolutely refuse to edit the "Dialogues," but Hume saw pretty clearly that it was a task that would not be performed by him. That he was correct in this supposition, appears by a letter from Smith to Strahan after Hume's death, where he says:

"I once had persuaded him to leave it entirely to my discretion either to publish them at what time I thought proper, or not to publish them at all. Had he continued of this mind, the manuscript should have been most carefully preserved, and upon my decease restored to his family; but it never should have been published in my lifetime. When you have read it, you will perhaps think it not unreasonable to consult some prudent friend about what you ought to do."[494:1]

By a codicil to his will, dated 7th August, he thus altered the arrangement referred to in these letters. "In my later will and disposition, I made some destinations with regard to my manuscripts: All these I now retract, and leave my manuscripts to the care of Mr. William Strahan of London, member of Parliament, trusting to the friendship that has long subsisted between us, for his careful and faithful execution of my intentions. I desire that my 'Dialogues concerning Natural Religion' may be printed and published, any time within two years after my death." After making the bequest to John Home which is mentioned farther on, leaving to Blair, Smith, Home, and Edmondstoune, "all of them persons very dear to me, and whose affection to me I know by repeated proofs to have been mutual," each a copy of the new edition of his works, and to Miss Ord, ten guineas to buy a ring, "as a memorial of his friendship and attachment to so amiable and accomplished a person," the codicil is signed. There is then a new paragraph appended as follows:

"I do ordain that if my 'Dialogues,' from whatever cause, be not published within two years and a half after my death, as also the account of my life, the property shall return to my nephew, David, whose duty in publishing them, as the last request of his uncle, must be approved of by all the world."[494:2]

Both Hume and Smith seem to have thought that Strahan would undertake the publication as a mere matter of business. But this book, like the little hunchback in the "Arabian Nights," was a commodity which every one seemed anxious to transfer to his neighbour. Strahan declined to undertake the task, and the "Dialogues" did not appear until 1779, when they were published by their author's nephew.

Smith cheerfully agreed to undertake the superintendance of the new edition of his friend's works, then at press. They appear to have been all in a state of very finished preparation for the press, and an edition of the "Inquiries" and the miscellaneous essays was published in 1777, from a copy in which the author had completed that removal of passages of a democratic tendency, which has been so frequently alluded to.

By the entreaties of several friends, who believed that travelling might have a favourable influence on his health, Hume undertook a journey to London towards the end of April. At Morpeth he met with Adam Smith and John Home, on their way from London, to visit him in Edinburgh, in consequence of a letter which the former had received from Ferguson, who says, "David, I am afraid, loses ground. He is cheerful and in good spirits as usual; but I confess that my hopes, from the effects of the turn of the season towards spring, have very much abated."

Smith proceeded to Edinburgh, but Home went back to London with his friend, and fortunately preserved a diary of the journey, so very interesting, and containing so lively a picture of Hume's state of mind and habits, that, though already published,[495:1] the reader would not excuse its omission on this occasion.

Note by Mr. John Home.

Soon after Mr. Home received the letter from Dr. Ferguson, he left London, and set out for Scotland with Mr. Adam Smith. They came to Morpeth on the 23d of April, 1776, and would have passed Mr. David Hume, if they had not seen his servant, Colin, standing at the gate of an inn. Mr. Home thinks that his friend, Mr. David Hume, is much better than he expected to find him. His spirits are astonishing: he talks of his illness, of his death, as matters of no moment, and gives an account of what passed between him and his physicians since his illness began, with his usual wit, or with more wit than usual.

He acquainted Mr. Adam Smith and me, that Dr. Black had not concealed the opinion he had of the desperateness of his condition, and was rather averse to his setting out. "Have you no reason against it," said David, "but an apprehension that it may make me die sooner?—that is no reason at all." I never saw him more cheerful, or in more perfect possession of all his faculties, his memory, his understanding, his wit. It is agreed that Smith shall go on to Scotland, and that I should proceed to Bath with David. We are to travel one stage before dinner, and one after dinner. Colin tells me that he thinks Mr. Hume better than when he left Edinburgh. We had a fine evening as we went from Morpeth to Newcastle. David seeing a pair of pistols in the chaise, said, that as he had very little at stake, he would indulge me in my humour of fighting the highwaymen. Whilst supper was getting ready at the inn, Mr. Hume and I played an hour at picquet. Mr. David was very keen about his card-playing.

Newcastle, Wednesday, 24th April.

Mr. Hume not quite so well in the morning—says, that he had set out merely to please his friends; that he would go on to please them; that Ferguson and Andrew Stuart, (about whom we had been talking,) were answerable for shortening his life one week a-piece; for, says he, you will allow Xenophon to be good authority; and he lays it down, that suppose a man is dying, nobody has a right to kill him. He set out in this vein, and continued all the stage in his cheerful and talking humour. It was a fine day, and we went on to Durham—from that to Darlington, where we passed the night.

In the evening Mr. Hume thinks himself more easy and light, than he has been any time for three months. In the course of our conversation we touched upon the national affairs. He still maintains, that the national debt must be the ruin of Britain; and laments that the two most civilized nations, the English and French, should be on the decline; and the barbarians, the Goths and Vandals of Germany and Russia, should be rising in power and renown. The French king, he says, has ruined the state by recalling the parliaments. Mr. Hume thinks that there is only one man in France fit to be minister, (the Archbishop of Toulouse,) of the family of Brienne. He told me some curious anecdotes with regard to this prelate; that he composed and corrected without writing; that Mr. Hume had heard him repeat an elegant oration of an hour and a quarter in length, which he had never written. Mr. Hume, talking with the Princess Beauvais about French policy, said that he knew but one man in France capable of restoring its greatness; the lady said she knew one too, and wished to hear if it was the same. They accordingly named each their man, and it was this prelate.[497:1]

Thursday, 25th.

Left Darlington about nine o'clock, and came to Northallerton. The same delightful weather. A shower fell that laid the dust, and made our journey to Boroughbridge more pleasant. Mr. Hume continues very easy, and has a tolerable appetite; tastes nothing liquid but water, and sups upon an egg. He assured me, that he never possessed his faculties more perfectly; that he never was more sensible of the beauties of any classic author than he was at present, nor loved more to read. When I am not in the room with him he reads continually. The post-boys can scarcely be persuaded to drive only five miles an hour, and their horses are of the same way of thinking! The other travellers, as they pass, look into the chaise, and laugh at our slow pace. This evening the post-boy from Northallerton, who had required a good deal of threatening to make him drive as slow as we desired, had no sooner taken his departure to go home, than he set off at full speed. "Pour se dédommager," said David.

Friday, 26th, Boroughbridge.

Mr. Hume this morning not quite so well. He observes, and I see it, that he has a good day and a bad one. His illness is an internal hemorrhage, which has been wasting him for a long time. He is so thin that he chooses to have a cushion under him when he sits upon an ordinary chair. He told me to-day, that if Louis XV. had died in the time of the regency, the whole French nation were determined to bring back the King of Spain to be King of France,—so zealous were they for preserving the line of succession. This evening Mr. Hume not quite so well, and goes to bed at a more early hour than he used to do.

Ferrybridge, Sunday, 28th.

Mr. Hume much better this morning. He told me, that the French nation had no great opinion of Cardinal Fleury; that the English had extolled him, in opposition to their own minister Sir Robert Walpole; but that Fleury was a little genius, and a cheat. Lord Marischal acquainted Mr. Hume with a piece of knavery which his lordship said nobody but a Frenchman and a priest could have been guilty of. The French ambassador at Madrid came to Lord Marischal one day, and told him, that he had a letter from the French minister at Petersburgh, acquainting him that General Keith was not pleased with his situation in Russia, and wished to return to the Spanish service, (where he had formerly been;) that it would be proper for Lord Marischal to apply to the court of Spain. Lord Marischal said nothing could be more agreeable to him than to have his brother in the same country with him; but that, as he had heard nothing from himself, he could not make any application in his name. The French minister still urged him to write to the Spanish minister, but in vain. When the brothers met, several years after, they explained this matter. Keith had never any intention of coming into the Spanish service again; and if Lord Marischal had applied to the court of Spain, measures were taken to intercept the letter, and send it to the court of Russia. General Keith, who commanded the Russian army in the field against the Swedes, would have been arrested, and sent to Siberia; and the moment he had left the army, the Swedes were to attack the Russians. Mr. Hume told me, talking of Fleury, that Monsieur Trudent,[499:1] who was his eléve, acquainted him with an anecdote of that minister and the late French king, which he, Mr. Hume, believes Trudent had never ventured to tell to any body but him; and he (David) had never told it to any body but me. Now, since Fleury, Trudent, and Lewis, are all dead, it may be told. Trudent took the liberty of observing to Fleury, that the king should be advised to apply a little more to business, and take some charge of his own affairs. Fleury, the first time Trudent spoke to him upon this subject, made him no answer; but upon his speaking again on the same subject, he told him, that he had entreated the king to be a man of business, and assured him that the French did not like an inactive prince; that in former times, there had been a race of indolent princes who did nothing at all, and were called Les Rois Fainéants; that one of them had been put into a convent. The king made no reply; but some time afterwards, when Fleury resumed the subject, the king asked him, whether or no the prince that was put into the convent had a good pension allowed him?[499:2]

Mr. Hume this day told me, that he had bought a piece of ground; and when I seemed surprised that I had never heard of it, he said it was in the New Church-yard, on the Calton Hill, for a burying-place; that he meant to have a small monument erected, not to exceed in expense one hundred pounds; that the inscription should be

David Hume.

I desired him to change the discourse. He did so; but seemed surprised at my uneasiness, which he said was very nonsensical. I think he is gaining ground; but he laughs at me, and says it is impossible; that the year ('76,) sooner or later, he takes his departure. He is willing to go to Bath, or travel during the summer through England, and return to Scotland to die at home; but that Sir John Pringle, and the whole faculty, would find it very difficult to boat him, (formerly an usual phrase in Scotland for going abroad, that is, out of the island, for health.) This day we travelled by his desire three stages, and arrived with great ease at Grantham.

Monday, 29th.

From the treatment Mr. Hume met with in France, he recurred to a subject not unfrequent with him—that is, the design to ruin him as an author, by the people that were ministers, at the first publication of his History, and called themselves Whigs, who, he said, were determined not to suffer truth to be told in Britain. Amongst many instances of this, he told me one which was new to me. The Duke of Bedford, (who afterwards conceived a great affection for Mr. Hume,) by the suggestions of some of his party friends, ordered his son, Lord Tavistock, not to read Mr. Hume's History of England; but the young man was prevailed upon by one of his companions (Mr. Crawford of Errol) to disobey the command. He read the History, and was extremely pleased with it.

Mr. Hume told me, that the Duke de Choiseul, at the time Lord Hertford was in France, expressed the greatest inclination for peace, and a good correspondence between France and Britain. He assured Lord Hertford, that if the court of Britain would relinquish Falkland Island, he would undertake to procure from the court of Spain the payment of the Manilla ransom. Lord Hertford communicated the proposal to Mr. Grenville, who slighted it. Lord Hertford told Mr. Hume the same day an extraordinary instance of the violence of faction. Towards the end of Queen Anne's reign, when the Whig ministers were turned out of all their places at home, and the Duke of Marlborough still continued in the command of the army abroad, the discarded ministers met, and wrote a letter, which was signed by Lord Somers, Lord Townshend, Lord Sunderland, and Sir Robert Walpole, desiring the duke to bring over the troops he could depend on, and that they would seize the queen's person, and proclaim the Elector of Hanover Regent. The Duke of Marlborough answered the letter, and said it was madness to think of such a thing. Mr. Horace Walpole, Sir R. Walpole's youngest son, confirmed the truth of this anecdote, which he had heard his father repeat often and often; and Mr. Walpole allowed Mr. Hume to quote him as his authority, and make what use he pleased of it. When George I. came to England, he hesitated whether to make a Whig or a Tory administration; but the German minister, Bernstorf, determined him to take the side of the Whigs, who had made a purse of thirty thousand guineas, and given it to this German. George I. was of a moderate and gentle temper.—He regretted all his life, that he had given way to the violence of the Whigs in the beginning of his reign. Whenever any difficulty occurred in parliament, he used to blame the impeachment of the Tories,—"Ce diable de impeachment," as he called it.

The Whigs, in the end of Queen Anne's reign, bribed the Emperor's ministers, not to consent to the peace, and to send over Prince Eugene with proposals to continue the war.

This anecdote from Lord Bath. Another anecdote Mr. Hume mentioned, but distrusted the authority, for it was David Mallet who told Mr. Hume, that he had evidence in his custody of a design to assassinate Lord Oxford.

Prior, after the accession, was reduced to such poverty by the persecution he met with, that he was obliged to publish his works by subscription. Lord Bathurst told Mr. Hume, that he was with Prior reading the pieces that were to be published, and he thought there was not enough to make two small volumes. He asked Prior if he had no more poems? He said, No more that he thought good enough.—"What is that," said Bathurst, pointing to a roll of paper. "A trifle," said Prior, "that I wrote in three weeks, not worthy of your attention or that of the public." Lord Bathurst desired to see it. This neglected piece was Alma .

Tuesday, 30th.

Last night, when Mr. Hume was going to bed, he complained of cold. One part of his malady had been a continual heat, so that he could not endure a soft or warm bed, and lay in the night with a single sheet upon him; he desired to have an additional covering. Colin observed to him, that he thought it a good symptom. Mr. Hume said he thought so too, for it was a good thing to be like other people. This morning he is wonderfully well; which is visible in his countenance and colour, and even the firmness of his step. Talking of the state of the nation, which he continually laments, he mentioned an anecdote of the former war. He was at Turin with General Sinclair, after the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, and, considering the superiority which the French arms had gained, he could not conceive why France granted such good terms to Britain. He desired General Sinclair to touch upon that subject with the King of Sardinia. That prince, who was very familiar with the General, said he was at a loss to give any account of that matter; but, many years after, when Hume was minister in France, and lived in great intimacy with Monsieur Puysieux, Secretary of State, who had negociated the peace of Aix, Mr. Hume asked him the reason of the conduct of France at that time? Puysieux told him, that it was the king's aversion to war; that he knew more of it than any man alive, for, the year before the peace, he was ordered by the king to propose pretty near the same terms. He remonstrated against making the offer; said that at least the proposal should come from England; and that there was always some advantage to be gained by receiving, rather than propounding terms. The king was impatient, and obliged Puysieux to write the letter, (which General Ligonier carried,) with those terms which next year were agreed to by the British court. Mr. John Home said he knew that the King of France promoted the peace of Paris from the aversion he had to war; and the peace was made at a time when it seemed impossible for Britain to carry on a war of such extent, and retain her scattered conquests. Mr. Hume mentioned another singular anecdote concerning the beginning of the last war. When a squadron of the English fleet attacked and took two French men of war, the Alcide and the Lys, Louis XV. was so averse to war, that he would have pocketed the insult; and Madame Pompadour said it was better to put up with the affront, than to go to war without any object but the point of honour. It is known, that neither the king nor the ministers of England wished for war. The French king abhorred the thought of war!—What then was the cause? Chiefly the fear of the popular clamour, and of the opposition, in the Duke of Newcastle's mind. Mr. Hume thinks Lord North no great minister, but does not see a better; cannot give any reason for the incapacity and want of genius, civil and military, which marks this period. He looks upon the country as on the verge of decline. His fears seem rather too great, and things are not quite so bad as he apprehends; but certainly the first show of statesmen, generals, and admirals, is, without comparison, the worst that has been seen in this country. I said to Mr. Hume, that I thought the great consideration to be acquired by speaking in Parliament, was the cause of that want of every other quality in men of rank: they do speak readily, but there are many orators who can neither judge nor act well.

Wednesday, 31st April.

Arrived in London, where we saw Sir John Pringle, who thought Mr. Hume much better than he expected to see him, and in no immediate danger. We staid a few days in London, and then set out for Bath.

In travelling from London to Bath, we had occasion frequently to make our observations on the passengers whom we met, and on those who passed us, as every carriage continued to do. Nothing occurred worthy the writing down, except Mr. David's plan of managing his kingdom, in case Ferguson and I had been princes of the adjacent states. He knew very well, he said, (having often disputed the point with us,) the great opinion we had of military virtues as essential to every state; that from these sentiments rooted in us, he was certain he would be attacked and interrupted in his projects of cultivating, improving, and civilizing mankind by the arts of peace; that he comforted himself with reflecting, that from our want of economy and order in our affairs, we should be continually in want of money; whilst he would have his finances in excellent condition, his magazines well filled, and naval stores in abundance; but that his final stroke of policy, upon which he depended, was to give one of us a large subsidy to fall upon the other, which would infallibly secure to him peace and quiet, and after a long war, would probably terminate in his being master of all the three kingdoms. At this sally, so like David's manner of playing with his friends, I fell into a fit of laughing, in which David joined; and the people that passed us certainly thought we were very merry travellers.

We have the following account from his own pen of his sojourn at Bath.

Hume to Dr. Blair.

"Bath, 13th May, 1776.

"My dear Doctor,—You have frequently heard me complain of my physical friends, that they allowed me to die in the midst of them without so much as giving a Greek name to my disorder: a consolation which was the least I had reason to expect from them. Dr. Black, hearing this complaint, told me that I should be satisfied in that particular, and that my disorder was a hemorrhage, a word which it was easy to decompose into αιμος[504:1] and ρηγνυμι. But Sir John Pringle says, that I have no hemorrhage, but a spincture in the colon, which it will be easy to cure. This disorder, as it both contained two Greek appellations and was remediable, I was much inclined to prefer; when, behold! Dr. Gustard tells me that he sees no symptoms of the former disorder, and as to the latter, he never met with it and scarcely ever heard of it. He assures me that my case is the most common of all Bath cases, to wit, a bilious complaint, which the waters scarcely ever fail of curing: and he never had a patient of whose recovery he had better hopes.

"Indeed the waters, in the short trial which I have made of them, (for I have been here only four days,) seem to agree very well with me; and two days ago I found myself so well, that, for the first time, I began to entertain hopes of a reprieve. Yesterday I was not so well, from a misunderstanding in new lodgings with regard to my bedding. My whimsicalness in this particular surprises Dr. Gustard, and he knows not what to make of it. By the by, this Dr. Gustard is an excellent kind of man, very friendly, and I believe very intelligent. He assures me, as do several others, that the summer is the best time for Bath waters: and if they continue to agree with me I shall probably pass here that season. I promised to General Conway, and Lady Aylesbury, that if I had recovered so much health as to venture myself in company, I should pass some weeks of the autumn at Park place. This is the only retardment I can foresee to my return to Scotland before winter. My wishes carry me thither; though the grievous loss we have suffered in friends makes the abode in that country less pleasing to my fancy than formerly.

"You must have heard of the agreeable surprise which John Home put upon me. We travelled up to London very cheerfully together, and thence to this place, where we found Mrs. Home almost quite recovered. Never was there a more friendly action, nor better placed; for what between conversation and gaming, (not to mention sometimes squabbling,) I did not pass a languid moment; and his company I am certain was the chief cause why my journey had so good an effect: of which, however, I suppose he has given too sanguine accounts, as is usual with him.[505:1]

"Be so good as to read this letter to Dr. Black and to Mr. Ferguson. When I write to one, I suppose myself writing to all my friends: and I also wish to comprehend the Principal in the number. Pray tell him that Mrs. Macauley is settled in Bath, and though her muse seems now to be mute, she is, if not a more illustrious, yet a more fortunate historian than either of us. There is one Dr. Wilson, a man zealous for liberty, who has made her a free and full present of a house of £2000 value, has adopted her daughter by all the rites of Roman jurisprudence, and intends to leave her all his fortune, which is considerable.

"Two ladies of my acquaintance have laid a scheme of bringing Lady Huntingdon and me together, for her or my conversion. I wish I may have spirits to humour this folly."[506:1]

On 10th June, Strahan wrote to Adam Smith, to say that he finds in a letter from Sir John Pringle, giving an account of Hume's health, "that all the good symptoms that attended his first trial of the Bath waters are now vanished. His distemper has returned with its usual violence, so he intends to leave that place and try Buxton."[506:2] He seems not to have attempted this change, but returning straight from Bath, he sent, on the way, invitations to a party of his friends to meet him at dinner. The note addressed to Dr. Blair is as follows:

"Mr. John Hume,[506:3] alias Home, alias The Home, alias the late Lord Conservator, alias the late minister of the gospel at Athelstaneford, has calculated matters so as to arrive infallibly with his friend in St. David's Street, on Wednesday evening. He has asked several of Dr. Blair's friends to dine with him there on Thursday, being the 4th of July, and begs the favour of the Doctor to make one of the number."[507:1]

Thus did this knot of men, united in friendship by the greatness of their talents, and their superiority to all things small and mean, meet for the last time round the social board, to bid, as it were, a farewell to him who had been the chief ornament and distinction of their circle. The eyes of these affectionate friends sedulously and anxiously watched the expiring flame—their pens have recorded the last scenes of its existence, and leave to the ordinary biographer only the task of embodying their statements in deferential silence. Nothing, therefore, remains, but to put together, along with the few remaining letters by Hume himself, the accounts furnished us by those who had the best means of knowing the manner in which he spent the last few days of his life.

The following is his last letter to John Home.

"Edinburgh, 6th August, 1776.

"My dear John,—I shall begin with telling you the only piece of good news of the family, which is, that my nephew, in no more than two days that he has staid here, has recovered so surprisingly, that he is scarcely knowable, or rather is perfectly knowable, for he was not so on his first arrival.[508:1] Such are the advantages of youth! His uncle declines, if not with so great rapidity, yet pretty sensibly. Sunday, ill; half of yesterday the same; easy at present; prepared to suffer a little to-morrow; perhaps less the day after. Dr. Black says, I shall not die of a dropsy, as I imagined, but of inanition and weakness. He cannot, however, fix, with any probability, the time, otherwise he would frankly tell me.

"Poor Edmondstoune and I parted to-day, with a plentiful effusion of tears; all those Belzebubians[508:2] have not hearts of iron. I hope you met with every thing well at Foggo, and receive nothing but good news from Buxton. In spite of Dr. Black's caution, I venture to foretel that I shall be yours cordially and sincerely till the month of October next."[508:3]

Next in date is the following affectionate and considerate letter to his nephew.

"Edinburgh, 15th August, 1776.

"Dear Davy,—You need not doubt but your company, as well as your father's, would have been very agreeable to me, especially at present, for the consolation of your company; but I see the immediate inconveniences that attend it. You cannot be well spared from Josey, whose state of health, I am sorry to find, is still somewhat precarious; and there is no immediate call for your being here. For besides that you would but pass a melancholy time with me, howeveection might cover it and relieve it, I am weakening very gradually, and am not threatened with any immediate incident. I shall probably have more warning, in which case I shall not fail to summon you; and I shall never die in satisfaction without embracing you. I doubt not but my name would have procured you friends and credit, in the course of your life, especially if my brother had allowed you to carry it, for who will know it in the present disguise? But as he is totally obstinate on this head, I believe we had better let him alone. I have frequently told him, that it is lucky for him he sees few things in a wrong light, for where he does he is totally incurable. I am very much at my ease to-day. I beg my compliments to all your family. Your affectionate uncle."[509:1]

Of the manner in which he conducted himself when he had come near to the end of his days, Adam Smith tells us:—

His cheerfulness was so great, and his conversation and amusements run so much in their usual strain, that, notwithstanding all bad symptoms, many people could not believe he was dying. "I shall tell your friend, Colonel Edmondstoune," said Dr. Dundas to him one day, "that I left you much better, and in a fair way of recovery." "Doctor," said he, "as I believe you would not choose to tell any thing but the truth, you had better tell him, that I am dying as fast as my enemies, if I have any, could wish, and as easily and cheerfully as my best friends could desire." Colonel Edmondstoune soon afterwards came to see him, and take leave of him; and on his way home, he could not forbear writing him a letter, bidding him once more an eternal adieu, and applying to him, as to a dying man, the beautiful French verses in which the Abbé Chaulieu, in expectation of his own death, laments his approaching separation from his friend, the Marquis de la Fare.[510:1] Mr. Hume's magnanimity and firmness were such, that his most affectionate friends knew that they hazarded nothing in talking or writing to him as to a dying man, and that so far from being hurt by this frankness, he was rather pleased and flattered by it. I happened to come into his room while he was reading this letter, which he had just received, and which he immediately showed me. I told him, that though I was sensible how very much he was weakened, and that appearances were in many respects very bad, yet his cheerfulness was still so great, the spirit of life seemed still to be so very strong in him, that I could not help entertaining some faint hopes. He answered, "Your hopes are groundless. An habitual diarrhœa of more than a year's standing, would be a very bad disease at any age: at my age it is a mortal one. When I lie down in the evening, I feel myself weaker than when I rose in the morning; and when I rise in the morning, weaker than when I lay down in the evening. I am sensible, besides, that some of my vital parts are affected, so that I must soon die." "Well," said I, "if it must be so, you have at least the satisfaction of leaving all your friends, your brother's family in particular, in great prosperity." He said that he felt that satisfaction so sensibly, that when he was reading, a few days before, Lucian's Dialogues of the Dead, among all the excuses which are alleged to Charon for not entering readily into his boat, he could not find one that fitted him; he had no house to finish, he had no daughter to provide for, he had no enemies upon whom he wished to revenge himself. "I could not well imagine," said he, "what excuse I could make to Charon in order to obtain a little delay. I have done every thing of consequence which I ever meant to do; and I could at no time expect to leave my relations and friends in a better situation than that in which I am now likely to leave them. I therefore have all reason to die contented." He then diverted himself with inventing several jocular excuses, which he supposed he might make to Charon, and with imagining the very surly answers which it might suit the character of Charon to return to them. "Upon further consideration," said he, "I thought I might say to him, 'Good Charon, I have been correcting my works for a new edition. Allow me a little time, that I may see how the public receives the alterations.' But Charon would answer, 'When you have seen the effect of these, you will be for making other alterations. There will be no end of such excuses; so, honest friend, please step into the boat.' But I might still urge, 'Have a little patience, good Charon; I have been endeavouring to open the eyes of the public. If I live a few years longer, I may have the satisfaction of seeing the downfal of some of the prevailing systems of superstition.' But Charon would then lose all temper and decency. 'You loitering rogue, that will not happen these many hundred years. Do you fancy I will grant you a lease for so long a term? Get into the boat this instant, you lazy loitering rogue.'"

But, though Mr. Hume always talked of his approaching dissolution with great cheerfulness, he never affected to make any parade of his magnanimity. He never mentioned the subject but when the conversation naturally led to it, and never dwelt longer upon it than the course of the conversation happened to require.[512:1]

How much his mind continued to be occupied with all that it had taken interest in, in the days of his health and enjoyment, the following letter, written five days before his death, will show:—

Hume to the Comtesse de Boufflers.

"Edinburgh, 20th of August, 1776.

"Though I am certainly within a few weeks, dear madam, and, perhaps, within a few days of my own death, I could not forbear being struck with the death of the Prince of Conti—so great a loss in every particular. My reflection carried me immediately to your situation in this melancholy incident. What a difference to you in your whole plan of life! Pray write me some particulars; but in such terms that you need not care, in case of decease, into whose hands your letter may fall.

"My distemper is a diarrhœa, or disorder in my bowels, which has been gradually undermining me these two years; but, within these six months, has been visibly hastening me to my end. I see death approach gradually, without any anxiety or regret. I salute you, with great affection and regard, for the last time."[514:1]

Smith, proceeding with his narrative, says, "He had now become so very weak, that the company of his most intimate friends fatigued him; for his cheerfulness was still so great, his complaisance and social disposition were still so entire, that when any friend was with him, he could not help talking more, and with greater exertion, than suited the weakness of his body. At his own desire, therefore, I agreed to leave Edinburgh, where I was staying, partly upon his account, and returned to my mother's house here, at Kirkaldy, upon condition that he would send for me whenever he wished to see me; the physician who saw him most frequently, Dr. Black, undertaking, in the mean time, to write me, occasionally, an account of the state of his health.

"On the 22d of August, the Doctor wrote me the following letter:—

"'Since my last, Mr. Hume has passed his time pretty easily, but is much weaker. He sits up, goes down stairs once a-day, and amuses himself with reading, but seldom sees any body. He finds that even the conversation of his most intimate friends fatigues and oppresses him; and it is happy that he does not need it, for he is quite free from anxiety, impatience, or low spirits, and passes his time very well with the assistance of amusing books.'

"I received, the day after, a letter from Mr. Hume himself, of which the following is an extract.

'Edinburgh 23d August, 1776.

'My dearest Friend,—I am obliged to make use of my nephew's hand in writing to you, as I do not rise to-day. . . . . . . .

'I go very fast to decline, and last night had a small fever, which I hoped might put a quicker period to this tedious illness; but, unluckily, it has, in a great measure, gone off. I cannot submit to your coming over here on my account, as it is possible for me to see you so small a part of the day; but Doctor Black can better inform you concerning the degree of strength which may, from time to time, remain with me. Adieu,' &c.[515:1]

"Three days after I received the following letter from Doctor Black:—

'Edinburgh, Monday, 26th August, 1776.

'Dear Sir,—Yesterday, about four o'clock, afternoon, Mr. Hume expired. The near approach of his death became evident in the night between Thursday and Friday, when his disease became excessive, and soon weakened him so much that he could no longer rise out of his bed. He continued, to the last, perfectly sensible, and free from much pain or feelings of distress. He never dropped the smallest expression of impatience; but, when he had occasion to speak to the people about him, always did it with affection and tenderness. I thought it improper to write to you to bring you over, especially as I heard that he had dictated a letter to you desiring you not to come. When he became very weak, it cost him an effort to speak; and he died in such a happy composure of mind that nothing could exceed it.'"

The world is fortunately in possession of an account of this event, by another scientific man of no less eminence, the great Dr. Cullen. From a letter which he wrote to Dr. Hunter, on 17th September, the following extracts are made:

You desire an account of Mr. Hume's last days, and I give it you with some pleasure; for, though I could not look upon him in his illness without much concern, yet the tranquillity and pleasantry which he constantly discovered did, even then, give me satisfaction; and, now that the curtain is dropped, allows me indulge the less alloyed reflection. It was truly an example "des grands hommes qui sont morts en plaisantant;"[516:1] and to me, who have been so often shocked with the horrors of the superstitious on such occasions, the reflexion on such a death is truly agreeable. For many weeks before his death, he was very sensible of his gradual decay; and his answer to inquiries after his health was, several times, that he was going as fast as his enemies could wish, and as easily as his friends could desire. He was not, however, without a frequent recurrence of pain and uneasiness; but he passed most part of the day in his drawing-room, admitted the visits of his friends, and with his usual spirit conversed with them upon literature, politics, or whatever else was accidentally started. In conversation he seemed to be perfectly at ease, and to the last abounded with that pleasantry, and those curious and entertaining anecdotes, which ever distinguished him. This, however, I always considered rather as an effort to be agreeable, and he at length acknowledged that it became too much for his strength. For a few days before his death, he became more averse to receive visits; speaking became more and more difficult for him; and, for twelve hours before his death, his speech failed altogether. His senses and judgment did not fail till the last hour of his life. He constantly discovered a strong sensibility to the attention and care of his friends, and, amidst great uneasiness and languor, never betrayed any peevishness or impatience. . . . . .[516:2]

These are a few particulars, which may perhaps appear trifling, but to me no particulars seem trifling that relate to so great a man. It is perhaps from trifles that we can best distinguish the tranquillity and cheerfulness of the philosopher, at a time when the most part of mankind are under disquiet, anxiety, and sometimes even horror. I consider the sacrifice of the cock as a more certain evidence of the tranquillity of Socrates, than his discourse on immortality.[517:1]

The death and burial of so distinguished a fellow citizen, were naturally the objects of much attention among the inhabitants of Edinburgh. On the one hand his unpopular opinions; on the other, the blameless character of his life and his great genius, excited conflicting opinions, and these giving zest to public attention and curiosity, attracted crowds to witness his funeral, and to look with mingled feelings, on the spot where his remains were, by the injunctions of his will, deposited.[517:2]

On the declivity of the Calton Hill there is an old grave-yard, which seventy years ago was in the open country beyond the boundary of the city of Edinburgh, and even at the present day, when it is the centre of a wide circumference of streets and terraces, has an air of solitude, from its elevated site, and the abrupt rocky banks that separate it from the crowded thoroughfares. There, on a conspicuous point of rock, beneath a circular monument built after the simple and solemn fashion of the old Roman tombs, lies the dust of David Hume. Whither the immortal spirit that gave life to it is gone, let no man too presumptuously pronounce; but let us rather contemplate with respectful awe, that unseen essence which the Deity had imbued with so great a power over the intellects of men, and believe that this wide sway over the destinies of the human species had its own wise and beneficent design, and was no produce of malign influences or untoward accidents. Fallacies may be the brilliant insects of a day, but truth is eternal; and when the searcher in philosophy groping amid the darkness of man's imperfect reason, produces falsehoods, they are speedily forgotten; but if he develop great truths, they live to bless his species for ever. There are few who will now deny that mankind have learned many valuable truths of David Hume. The wide influence of his mind over thought and action, during the last hundred years, is expressed in the mere naming of the systems of which he was the author or suggester.

His Metaphysical labours gave birth to two great schools of philosophy. The one rising at his own door, endeavoured by powerful and earnest efforts to reconstruct in a more rational and substantial form the old system which he had sapped—the other in a distant land, where new lights of science had begun to burn, sought to raise mental philosophy from its original elements, purified of the dross and rubbish that had rendered the old materials cumbrous and unsafe, and to endow the whole with fresh life and a new form and structure.[519:1]

In Ethics he was the first to make an Utilitarian morality assume the aspect of a theoretical system, which it was the task of a great successor, aided by subordinate labourers, to apply to the practical operations of mankind, and to spread widely over the earth.

In History he was the first to divert attention from wars, treaties, and successions, to the living progress of the people, in all that increases their civilization and their happiness. The example thus set has been the chief service of the "History of England;" yet, with all the faults of its matter, its purely literary merits have been so great, that, as a classical and popular work, it has hitherto encountered no rival.[519:2]

But his triumphs in Political Economy are those which, in the present day, stand forth with the greatest prominence and lustre. In no long time, a hundred years will have elapsed from the day when Hume told the world, what the legislature of this country is now declaring, that national exclusiveness in trade was as foolish as it was wicked; that no nation could profit by stopping the natural flood of commerce between itself and the rest of the world; that commercial restrictions deprive the nations of the earth "of that free communication and exchange, which the author of the world has intended by giving them soils, climates, and geniuses, so different from each other;" and that, like the healthy circulation of the blood in living bodies, Free Trade is the vital principle by which the nations of the earth are to become united in one harmonious whole.[520:1] Those who, with a reverential eye, have marked the wonders of the animal structure, and discovered beauty, utility, and harmonious purpose, where presumptuous ignorance has found uselessness or deformity; or have seen the lower animals, each working in its own blind ignorance, gregariously constructing a fabric more perfect, on philosophical principles, than human science can create,—have thence drawn vivid pictures of the wisdom and goodness with which the world is ordered. May we not extend this harmony to the social economy of the globe, and say, that the spirit of activity and enterprise, harmonizing with the dispersal of the different bounties of Providence in the distant regions of the globe, are part of the same harmonious system; that the love of commerce and the desire of aggrandisement, which in the eye of a narrow philosophy assume the air of selfish and repulsive passions, represent themselves, when they are left to their legitimate course, as motives implanted in us for the great purposes of securing mutual dependance and kind offices, and their fruits, peace and good-will, throughout the great family of mankind. To be the first to teach that the earth is not doomed to the eternal curse of rivalry and strife, and to open up so wide a prospect of beneficence, may be an atonement for many errors, and in the eye of good taste may justify the brief assumption of conscious superiority, in which the subject of this memoir indulged, when he desired that the inscription on his monument should contain only his name, with the year of his birth and of his death. Leaving it to posterity to add the rest.

FOOTNOTES: