With this nobleman (who married Elizabeth, daughter of the Earl of Salisbury, and was succeeded by his son, afterwards created Duke of Devonshire) Thomas Hobbes remained for the rest of his life. “The earl for his whole life entertained Mr. Hobbes in his family as his old tutor rather than as his friend or confidant; he let him live under his roof in ease and plenty and his own way, without making use of him in any publick or so much as domestick affairs. He would often express an abhorrence of some of his principles in policy and religion; and both he and his lady would frequently put off the mention of his name and say ‘He was an humourist, and that nobody could account for him.’”
Of Hobbes’s works—of his “De Cive,” his “Leviathan,” his “Elémens Philosophiques de Citoyen,” his “Behemoth,” or his hundred other writings—it is, of course, not here our province to speak; but one of his smaller productions, because of its connection with the family of his noble patron, his “De Mirabilibus Pecci,” may claim a passing word. This is a Latin poem descriptive of the “Wonders of the Peak, in Derbyshire”—the same subject which Charles Cotton, later on, wrote upon in his “Wonders of the Peak”—wherein Hobbes describes a tour which he, with a friend, took on horseback, starting from Chatsworth, where he was residing, and visiting Pilsley, Hassop, Hope, Castleton, Peak Forest, Eldon Hole, the Ebbing and Flowing Well, Buxton, Poole’s Hole, Chelmorton, Sheldon, Ashford, and so back to Chatsworth, quaintly describing all he saw on his journey.
If the earl was attached to Hobbes, he was at least amply repaid by the devotion and fondness his old tutor showed to him and to his family. Indeed, so intimate was the old man with the family of his patron, that whenever the earl removed from one of his houses to another, Hobbes accompanied them, even to the last of his long life. “There is a tradition in the family,” said Bishop Kennett, in 1707, “of the manners and customs of Mr. Hobbes somewhat observable. His professed rule of health was to dedicate the morning to his health and the afternoon to his studies. And therefore at his first rising he walk’d out and climb’d any hill within his reach; or, if the weather was not dry, he fatigued himself within doors by some exercise or other to be in a sweat; recommending that practice upon this opinion, that an old man had more moisture than heat, and therefore by such motion heat was to be acquired and moisture expelled. After this he took a comfortable breakfast, and then went round the lodgings to wait upon the earl, the countess, and the children, and any considerable strangers, paying some short address to all of them.” ... “Towards the end of his life he had very few books, and those he read but very little, thinking he was now only to digest what formerly he had fed upon. If company came to visit him, he would be free in discourse till he was pressed or contradicted, and then he had the infirmities of being short and peevish, and referring to his writings for better satisfaction. His friends, who had the liberty of introducing strangers to him, made these terms with them before their admission—that they should not dispute with the old man, nor contradict him.”
Thus lived Hobbes, whether at Hardwick or at Chatsworth, and thus were all his foibles kindly looked upon and administered to, and his life made happy by allowing him in everything—even his attendance on worship in the private chapel, and his leaving before the sermon—to have, literally, “his own way.” In December, 1679, the earl and countess went from Chatsworth to Hardwick Hall, probably with the intention of keeping up their Christmas festivities there, and even at that time the old man—for he was ninety-one years of age—would accompany them. “He could not endure to be left in an empty house, and whenever the earl removed he would go along with him, even to his last stage from Chatsworth to Hardwick; when in a very weak condition he dared not be left behind, but made his way upon a feather bed in a coach, though he survived the journey but a few days. He could not bear any discourse of death, and seemed to cast off all thoughts of it. He delighted to reckon upon long life. The winter before he died he had made a warmer coat, which he said must last him three years, and then he would have such another. In his last sickness his frequent questions were whether his disease was curable; and when intimations were given that he might have ease, but no remedy, he used this expression:—‘I shall be glad then to find a hole to creep out of the world at;’ which are reported to have been his last sensible words, and his lying some days following in a silent stupefaction did seem owing to his mind more than to his body. The only thought of death that he appeared to entertain in time of health was to take care of some inscription on his grave. He would suffer some friends to dictate an epitaph, among which he was best pleased with this honour, ‘This is the true philosopher’s stone;’ which, indeed,” adds the bishop, “would have had as much religion in it as that which now remains,” and of which we have just given a copy.
As we have already remarked, it is not our business to discuss the political or philosophical principles which Hobbes expressed in his writings: these, both in and after his time, were the subject of much controversy. We may, however, remark that it was well for those who were committed to his tutelage and close companionship, that their minds do not seem to have been corrupted by his avowed rejection, not only of the Christian faith, but apparently of any faith at all in the existence of a Deity. Nowhere—and he had abundance of opportunity in some, at least, of his voluminous writings—does he show any glimmering even of religious belief; and the history of his latest years, and the last expression which proceeded from his mouth, testify to his fear of death, and his dislike to have the subject mentioned in his hearing. A mere materialist would not thus have been “subject to bondage,” inasmuch as the conviction of utter annihilation must remove all ground of apprehension regarding the “something after death.” Hobbes closed his eyes a resolute doubter, if not an actual disbeliever; and no ray of comfort or of hope came to brighten his last moments as he passed into the world of spirits to exchange uncertainty for certainty, the mortal for the immortal.
The late Sir William Molesworth endeavoured to rekindle some interest in Hobbes’s writings by republishing an edition of his works: happily, the attempt was a failure, so far, we believe, as to any extensive sale of the poison contained in them.
Externally, Hault Hucknall Church, although highly picturesque and venerable in appearance, presents not many striking features. The tower, which stands between nave and chancel, was probably terminated by a spire—the upper remaining part being of much later date than the lower.
We have thus described the seat, next in importance to that of Chatsworth, of the long-descended and long-ennobled family of Cavendish. Their principal residence, Chatsworth, we describe and illustrate in another part of this volume.