In the society of friends such as Adam Smith, Hume, Carlyle, Home,
Hutton, Playfair, and Dugald Stewart, the closing days of this great and
gentle chemist wore tranquilly away. Towards the end, he sank into a low
state of health, and only preserved himself from the severe shocks of
the weather in the changeable climate of Edinburgh, by a degree of care
and abstemiousness rarely surpassed even by the devoutest Brahmin. "It
was his generous and manly wish, that he might never live to be a burden
to his friends; and never was the wish more completely gratified. On the
26th November 1799, in the seventy-first year of his age, he expired
without any convulsion, shock, or stupor, to announce or retard the
approach of death. Being at table with his usual fare--some bread, a few
prunes, and a measured quantity of milk diluted with water; and having
the cup in his hand when the last stroke of the pulse was to be given,
he had set it down upon his knees, which were joined together, and kept
it steady with his hand in the manner of a person perfectly at ease; and
in this attitude expired, without spilling a drop, and without a writhe
in his countenance; as if an experiment had been required, to show to
his friends the facility with which he departed. His servant opened the
door to tell him that some one had left his name; but getting no answer,
stepped about half way towards him, and, seeing him sitting in that easy
posture, supporting his basin of milk with one hand, he thought that he
had dropped asleep, which he had sometimes seen happen after his meals.
The man went back and shut the door; but before he got down stairs, some
anxiety that he could not account for made him return, and look again at
his master. Even then, he was satisfied, after coming pretty near, and
turned to go away; but again returned, and coming quite close, found his
master without life."
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