84
“DEATH-BED OF HUME,” The Spirit of the Pilgrims, vol. 5, no. 3 (March 1832), pp. 172–3.
Anonymous
The Spirit of the Pilgrims was published in Boston from 1828 to 1833. Its first editor was Rev. Pond, a one-time student of Nathaneal Emmons. It aimed to combat Unitarianism as found in publications like the Christian Examiner. This particular anecdote about Hume was reprinted often in American periodicals in the early 1830s. For a slightly later reprinting of it, and additional commentary, see selection #109. On The Spirit of the Pilgrims see Gaylord P. Albaugh, History and Annotated Bibliography of American Religious Periodicals and Newspapers (Worcester, 1994), vol. 2, pp. 894–7; API, p. 205.
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In the London Christian Observer for November, we find the following letter addressed to the editor.
I inclose a passage relative to the death-bed of Hume, the historian, which appeared many years ago in an Edinburgh newspaper, and which I am not aware was ever contradicted. Adam Smith’s well known narrative of Hume’s last hours has been often cited, to prove how calmly a philosophical infidel can die; but if the inclosed account be correct, very different was the picture. I copy it as I find it, thinking it possible that some of your numerous readers may be able to cast some light upon the subject. If the facts alledged in the following statement are not authentic, they ought to be disproved before tradition is too remote; if authentic, they are of considerable importance on account of the irreligious use which has been made of the popular narrative; just as was the case in regard to the death-bed of Voltaire, which to this hour, in spite of well-proved facts, infidel writers maintain was calm and philosophical. The following is the story:
“About the end of 1776, a few months after the historian’s death, a respectable looking woman dressed in black came into the Haddington stage coach while passing through Edinburgh.
The conversation among the passengers, which had been interrupted for a few minutes, was speedily resumed, which the lady soon found to be regarding the state of mind persons were in at the prospect of death. One gentleman argued that a real Christian was more likely to view the approach of death with composure, than he who had looked upon religion as unworthy his notice. Another (an English gentleman) insisted that an infidel could look forward to his end with as much complacency and peace of mind as the best Christian in the land. This being denied by his opponent, he bade him consider the death of his countrymen David Hume, who was an acknowledged infidel, and yet died not only happy and tranquil, but even spoke of his dissolution with a degree of gaiety and humor. The lady who had lately joined them, turned round to the last speaker and said, ‘Sir, this is all you know about it: I could tell you another tale.’ ‘Madam,’ replied the gentleman, ‘I presume I have as good information as you can have on this subject, and I believe that what I have asserted regarding Mr. Hume has never before been called in question.’ The lady continued; ‘Sir, I was Mr. Hume’s housekeeper for many years, and was with him in his last moments; and the mourning I now wear was a present from his relatives for my attention to him on his death-bed; and happy would I have been if I could have borne my testimony to the mistaken opinion that has gone abroad of his peaceful and composed end. I have, sir; never till this hour opened my mouth on this subject; but I think it a pity the world should be kept in the dark on so interesting a topic. It is true, sir, that when Mr. Hume’s friends were with him, he was cheerful, and seemed quite unconcerned about his approaching fate; nay, frequently spoke of it to them in a jocular and playful way; but when he was alone the scene was very different: he was anything but composed; his mental agitation was so great at times as to occasion his whole bed to shake. He would not allow the candles to be put out during the night, nor would he be left alone for a minute. I had always to ring the bell for one of the servants to be in the room, before he would allow me to leave it. He struggled hard to appear composed even before me; but to one who attended his bed-side for so many days and nights, and witnessed his disturbed sleeps and still more disturbed wakings; who frequently heard his involuntary breathings of remorse and frightful startings; it was no difficult matter to determine that all was not right within. This continued and increased until he became insensible. I hope in God! I shall never witness a similar scene.”
I leave your readers to weigh the probability of this narrative; for myself, I see nothing unlikely in it; for a man who had exerted all his talents to deprive mankind of their dearest hopes, and only consolation in the day of trial and the hour of death, might well be expected to suffer remorse in his dying hour: and the alleged narrator of the circumstance, who states herself to have been his housekeeper, is affirmed to have made the declaration on the spur of the occasion, from regard to truth, and by no means from only pique or dislike towards Mr. Hume or his family. Some of your northern readers may perhaps be able to inform me who was Mr. Hume’s housekeeper a[t] the time of h[i]s death, and whether there is any proof in writing, memory, or tradition, to the effect of her alleged statement.