Atheist Inspiration #3: David Hume
Christopher Hitchens’ Portable Atheist contains a delightful little essay by James Boswell, entitled, An Account of My Last Interview with David Hume, Esq. I’ll open this inspirational thought with some excerpts from Boswell’s essay:
On Sunday forenoon the 7 of July 1776, being too late for church, I went to see Mr. David Hume, who was returned from London and Bath, just a-dying. I found him alone, in a reclining posture in his drawing room. He was lean, ghastly, and quite of an earthly appearance…. He was quite different from the plump figure which he used to present. He seemed to be placid and even cheerful. He said he was just approaching his end…. He said he never had entertained any belief in religion since he began to read Locke and Clarke…. He then said flatly that the morality of every religion was bad, and, I really thought, was not jocular when he said that when he heard a man was religious, he concluded he was a rascal, though he had known some instances of very good men being religious. This was just an extravagant reverse of the common remark as to infidels.
I had a strong curiosity to be satisfied if he persisted in disbelieving a future state even when he had death before his eyes. I was persuaded from what he now said, and from his manner of saying it, that he did persist. I asked him if it was not possible that there might be a future state. He answered it was possible that a piece of coal put upon the fire would not burn; and he added that it was a most unreasonable fancy that we should exist forever….
I asked him if the thought of annihilation never gave him any uneasiness. He said not the least; no more than the thought that he had not been, as Lucretius observes. “Well,” said I, “Mr. Hume, I hope to triumph over you when I meet you in a future state; and remember you are not to pretend that you was joking with all this infidelity.” “No, no,” said he. “But I shall have been so long there before you come that it will be nothing new.” In this style of good humour and levity did I conduct the conversation….
He had once said to me, on a forenoon while the sun was shining bright, that he did not wish to be immortal. This was a most wonderful thought. The reason he gave was that he was very well in this state of being, and that the chances were very much against his being so well in another state; and that he would rather not be more than be worse….
… the truth is that Mr. Hume’s pleasantry was such that there was no solemnity in the scene; and death for the time did not seem dismal. It surprised me to find him talking of different matters with a tranquility of mind and a clearness of head, which few men possess at any time…. He said he had no pain but was wasting away.
It was amazing to me to find him so keen in such a state…. He said, “If there were a future state, Mr. Boswell, I think I could give as good an account of my life as most people.”
What a fabulous account of David Hume’s attitude when he knew death was near. Hume was an infidel. He had no hope of eternal life, nor did he have a desire for such a life. He also had little or no fear of death and certainly no fear of hell. He faced death squarely and he looked back over his life with a sense of having lived well.
I can’t help contrasting Hume’s outlook with the apparent attitudes of the two Christian ladies I wrote about in a previous post. To be fair, I will note that these ladies are ordinary people who probably haven’t thought much about what they believe and why they believe it. David Hume, on the other hand, was one of the greatest thinkers in history. He certainly thought long, hard and deeply about his beliefs. Unlike some (many?) religious believers who hope and pray that they will hear Jesus say, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” (Matthew 25:21) rather than, “I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!” (Matthew 7:23), Hume had no fear of eternal rejection and damnation. He did not suffer end-of-life pangs of remorse, and he had no need for a dramatic death-bed conversion. When the time came for Hume to deal with death, he confronted it with equanimity and poise. When it’s my turn to come face to face with my mortality, I hope that I will meet it with something akin to David Hume’s grace.
– the chaplain







Yes. Nice. I need to read more of that volume. It’s upstairs on the bed stand.
I note that Christians like to lie about Charles Darwin’s supposed death bed conversion, but it’s not true. Christians can’t stand the thought of someone Darwin’s caliber going to his death with equanimity.
Death scares me. It does. I have a very strong self-preservation instinct and therefore have no desire to simply wink out of existence. I am amazed by people who can face down oblivion with such calmness and peace.
I imagine I’ll be a complete bastard as I’m dying since, well, I’ll be dying. Why would I be cheerful then? Of course that’s assuming I’ll have some time and be aware of things. I could die instantly one day hit by a bus or be fully senile long before the end (which, as far as I’m concerned, if my mind is gone, I am dead).
What a coincidence. I’m reading what Steven Weinberg has to say in that very book at the moment. Just borrowed it from the library.
And so it goes.
Big C, a stroke, bleeding to death, one of those three will get me sooner rather than later.
Am I in any tearing hurry to get to the end of the line? Not while I’m still having fun, which I am.
And yes, I do believe in imortality, in certain ways. I think our immortalality is what we pass on to those younger which will help them in their own lives, our components going back to nature for its furtherance.
I’ve been told, “Wait ’til you die, THEN you’ll be sorry”.
Something like that can’t even be considered for an answer.
SI:
Yeah, Darwin’s deathbed conversion is a favorite myth among fundogelicals.
Digital Dame:
Death doesn’t scare me too much – yet. Ask me about it when my demise is more imminent; who knows what my answer will be then.
Phillychief:
Who knows, I may be a bitch about it too. I’ll find out when I can’t avoid answering the question.
Being a bastard when you’re dying would be different somehow?
Temaskian:
The book is full of great essays. It’s worth keeping and going back to every now and then.
Sarge:
I admire your grace in your circumstances.
He sounds like a guy I’d have liked to meet. If I have a hope for my death it’s that I face it with the same kind of equanimity.
Equanimity, hell! I want to go out making love with a beautiful blonde. Or redhead. Or brunette. Right at the end. Orgasm. Smile. Death. Never mind all the spiritual hanky-panky. Give me real hanky-panky anytime.
Alright, if I have two hopes for my death…
What if she were bald, Ric?
This was great reading. I hope that I can feel the same peace when it’s my time.
And as for that second wish, I feel you (or, I feel it), too.
Even better. She could have three wigs, one of each color. That would provide me with a real end-of-life challenge, to get through all three before the big ending.
Ummm, she’d have to lose the snake…
Funny, ‘cuz right before I got to the part about Denise and Lisa, I was thinking, “Now contrast Hume’s attitude against those ladies’.”
Sorry to double-post, but I think the following statement is misleading so I’d like to address it: “I note that Christians like to lie about Charles Darwin’s supposed death bed conversion, but it’s not true. Christians can’t stand the thought of someone Darwin’s caliber going to his death with equanimity.” (SI)
That’s like saying, “Atheists like to lie about how Piltdown Man supports evolution,” when in reality only a very small minority of atheists actually lied about Piltdown Man supporting evolution, and not all who claimed Piltdown Man supported evolution were lying.
Some of you need finer brushes!
I’d say that the key is the native American slogan, “it is a good day to die”.
Chap, my love, we have what we have and we need to savor the minute with as little regret as possible for any others we;’ve spent.
My life has been pretty good, and continues to be as long as I, myself, live that sum bitch. I’ve learned the difference between happiness and success. People who know my name tend to think well of me (for the most part: ya can’t please everyone). I hope I will have given more than I’ve taken, given laughs an pleasure with my company and music.
I laughed my patootie off this past weekend. There was this rooster where we were camped…
I had a discussion on this with a relative of mine just today. He is a very nice young man, very serious, and a giver rather than a taker. Yet, because I “don’t have a degree” or certain other cultural bric a brac,(he has a PHD in education) he feels that my life has been a failure.
What can a person say? I’ve lived all over the world, met all sorts of people, actually made it out of an “educational” system which defined any learning disability as a sign that said ‘throw me away’ (college, my ass ;-() performed in situations that other people couldn’t even move in, taken life, saved life, had a great marriage fathered (not sired) two fine sons, and a whole lot of other things. For some years, this fourth of July included, I direct a band in front of thousands of people and havbe been told that my musical arrangements sound pure mid-19th century by people who know. I’ve even been used as a resource in academic papers and two novels. I’ve soldiered, been to sea, trained horses, oval track and drag raced, and speak four languages.
My relative rather dismissively said, “Well, you never made money at it”.
He is a counselor at a prestigious Friends school in YOUR area, Chappie, and his biggest task is trying to get kindergardeners and first graders to do homework. I told him that I knew he made money at it but was he actually successful? Did he REALLY believe that all of the homework that actually DID get turned in was done by the kids? Turns out that the little darlin’s lie their tongues black about it to teachers, parents, and him.
And we never know what and when the end will come, really. My friends who died in April. Plus I worked part time for a steeple jack before I went in the army, early 1960’s. I worked on the restoration of the capitol dome and was with him when he replaced the lightning rods on the statue on the top. He had the contract for a while to replace the rods on top of the Washington Monument and other gov’t buildings as well.He believed that the only way you got hurt on a job was through your own carelessness, no matter what. He’d fallen off things, been up flag poles that fell over, all sorts of things, never got a scratch.
I’d been in the army a couple of years, was home on leave, and my father asked if I remembered him: of course I did. He’d been killed in a fall.
No, it wasn’t from some dizzying height, he’d been walking along a scaffold talking to someone, stepped off the end, and broke his neck. Death was immediate. He fell less than ten feet.
And remember, “The cemetaries are full of indispensable people”. Everyone goes no matter what.
Awesome comment Sarge. Just awesome.
Great post and great comment by Sarge. While I might agree that SI was a little imprecise in his language. I do note that out of the two scenarios presented I have had come across the death bed conversion story far more than piltdown man – indeed I have only a vague recollection of who piltdown man was.
My youngest son told me about a man in Bethesda Naval, a patient (in all that words nuances, according to my son) from whom he had to draw blood.
He asked that man, “May a have a few moments of your time”?
The reply was “I don’t have any moments to reall SPARE, but come on in and I’ll share what I have”.
I’ll raise a glass to you after work today, Sarge.
Thanks, everyone. I’m pretty sure that Sean has read a bit of “Banjo” Patterson. In his poem about the Japanese pearl shell diver you will find a very healthy attitude about life and death.
It’s just my opinion, we know that opinions are like rectums (probably why my wife and sons tell my I “display rectitude”) but give it a try. Great poet, great poem, amazing and accurate philosophy behind it.
Sean the Blogonaut,
Agreement noted. I think the whole idea for this series is great, and I had a feeling you would agree to the “finer brushes” part of my comment. No need to mimic those we decry.
Although I seem to vaguely recall hearing the conversion story once, I’ve personally never come across anyone who argued for PM. Totally different story in the late nineteenth century, of course, and the larger analogy is reasonably cautious and warranted IMO.
You know, a post hasn’t run it’s course, until cl trots out the Piltdown man.
Time for a new post, Chappy.
If “he heard a man was religious, he concluded he was a rascal.”
That’s a pretty good rule of thumb.
(Sarge: I’d thought that “good day to die” saying was Klingon. )
Nope, I heard it from a Sioux colleague of my father for the first time long before Star Trek.
I heard it first on Star Trek, but then later read it in Black Elk Speaks (Sioux) in a Native American Lit course.
That book looks good I have not read it yet. I have read “Irriligious” and I am currently reading “The God Delusion” and “God is not Great”
Each has an interesting take on religion.
Check out my blog if you have some time, it is an atheist blog.