THE We are persuaded, that we shall at once please and instruct every class of our readers, by occupying our Biographical Department for the present month, with the following extracts from "The Christian's Magazine," a work published once in three months, in the city of New York, by Rev. Dr. MASON. The "Remarks on the accounts of the death of David Hume, and Dr. Finley," are from the pen of this able editor. Our object in introducing these extracts into our magazine is two-fold; first, to benefit our readers; secondly, to make them acquainted with a periodical work, edited with peculiar ability, and which does honor to our country, and to recommend it to their attention and patronage. Editors. A CONTRAST BETWEEN THE DEATH OF A DEIST AND THE DEATH OF A CHRISTIAN: BEING A SUCCINCT ACCOUNT OF THAT CELEBRATED INFIDEL, DAVID HUME, ESQ.; AND OF THAT EXCELLENT MINISTER OF THE GOSPEL, SAMUEL FINLEY, D. D. IN THEIR LAST MOMENTS. Letter from Adam Smith, L. L. D. to William Strahan, Esq. giving some account of Mr. Hume during his last sickness. Kirkaldy, Fife-Shire, Nov. 9, 1776. DEAR SIR, Ir is with a real, though a very melancholy pleasure that I sit down to give you some account of the behavior of our late excellent friend, Mr. Hume, during his last illness. Though, in his own judgment, his disease was mortal and incurable, yet he allowed himself to be prevailed upon, by the intreaty of his friends, to try what might be the effects of a long journey. A few days before he set out, he wrote that account of his own life, which, together with his other papers, he left to your care. My Vor. I. New Series. account, therefore, shall begin where his ends. He set out for London towards the end of April, and at Morpeth met with Mr. John Home and myself, who had both come down from London on purpose to see him, expecting to have found him at Edinburgh. Mr. Home returned with him, and attended him during the whole of his stay in England, with that care and attention which might be expect. ed from a temper so perfectly friendly and affectionate. As I had written to my mother that she might expect me in Scotland, I was under the necessity of 2 Co His re continuing my journey. His disease seemed to yield to exer. cise and change of air; and when he arrived in London, he was apparently in much better health than when he left Edinburgh. He was advised to go to Bath to drink the waters, which appeared for some time to have so good an effect upon him, that even he himself began to entertain, what he was not apt to do, a better opinion of his own health. symptoms, however, soon turned with their usual violence; and from that moment he gave up all thoughts of recovery, but submitted with the utmost cheerfulness, and the most perfect complacency and resignation. Upon his return to Edinburgh, though he found himself much weaker, yet his cheerfulness nev. er abated, and he continued to divert himself, as usual, with correcting his own works for a new edition, with reading books of amusement, with the conversation of his friends; and, sometimes in the evening, with a party at his favorite game of whist. 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 Edmonstone," said Doctor Dundas to him one day, "that I left you much better, and in a fair way of recovery." "Doc tor," 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 Edmonstone soon af ter 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. 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 to be still so very strong in him, that I could not help entertaining some faint hopes. He answered, "Your hopes are groundless. An habitual diarrhoea 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, I feel myself 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 the eyes of the public. If I live But, though Mr. Hume al. Have a little patience, good Charon; I bave been endeavoring to open me whenever he wished so see I received the day after, a let. ter from Mr. Hume, myself, of which the following is an ex "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 can. not 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 Dr. Black can better inform you concerning the degree of strength which may from time to time remain with me. Adieu, &c.” Three days after I received the following letter from Dr. Black: "Edinburgh, Monday, Aug. 26, 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 contin ued 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 bring you over, especially as I heard that he 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." Thus died our most excellent, and never to be forgotten friend; concerning whose philosophical opinions men will, no doubt, judge variously, every one approving or condemning them, according as they happen to coincide or disagree with his own; but concerning whose character and conduct there can scarce be a difference of opinion. temper, indeed, seemed to be more happily balanced, if I may be allowed such an expression, than that perhaps of any other man I have ever known. Even in the lowest state of his fortune, his great and necessary frugality never hindered him from exercis His ing, upon proper occasions, acts both of charity and generosity. It was a frugality founded, not upon avarice, but upon the love of independency. The extreme gen. tleness of his nature never weakened either the firmness of his mind, or the steadiness of his resolutions. His constant pleasautry was the genuine effusion of good nature and good humor, tempered with delicacy and mod. esty, and without even the slightest tincture of malignity, so frequently the disagreeable source of what is called wit in other men. It never was the meaning of his raillery to mortify; and therefore, far from offending, it seldom failed to please and delight, even those who were the objects of it. To his friends, who were frequently the objects of it, there was not perhaps any one of all his great and amiable qualities, which contributed more to endear his conversation. And that gaiety of temper, so agreeable in society, but which is often accompanied with frivolous and superficial qualities, was, in him, certainly attended with the most severe application, the most extensive learning, the greatest depth of thought, and a capacity in every respect the most comprehensive. Upon the whole, I have always considered him, both in his lifetime and since his death, as approaching as nearly to the idea of a perfectly wise and virtuous man, as perhaps the nature of human frailty will permit. I ever am, dear Sir, most affectionately yours, ADAM SMITH. Rev. Mr. Richard Treat came to visit the Doctor, who desired that he would pray by him. Being asked what he should pray for; he answered, "Beseech God that he would be pleased to let me feel, just as I did at that time when I first closed with Christ, at which time I could scarce contain myself out of heaven." Dr. S. acquainted him that he could live but a few days longer; at which he lifted up his eyes with much composure, saying, "Then welcome Lord Jesus." He declared himself under the greatest obligations to the Doctor for his kind and diligent attendance during his illness, and said, "I owe a large catalogue of debts to my friends, which will never be charged to my account; God will discharge them for me." July 13th, Lord's-day noon. Dr. C. came to his bed-side, and told him there appeared a very visible alteration in his countenance, by which he judged death was not far off. He raised himself upon his pillow, and broke out, "Then may the Lord bring me near to himself-I have waited with a Canaan hunger for the promised land-I have often wondered that God suffered me to live-I have wondered more that ever he called me to be a minister of his word. He has often afforded me much strength, and though I have abused it, he has returned in mercy. Oh! how sweet are the promises of God! Oh! that I could see him the life of this excellent man, in the Panoplist, vol. I. p. 283. The reader will readily perceive the propriety of repeating them for the purpose for which they are here introduced. |