which was rather thick. He lost but one tooth, and never made use of spectacles, during his whole life. This perhaps might be the ground for Fontenelle's saying, in a kind of panegyric, that he had an extremely lively and piercing eye;' as Bishop Atterbury, who seems to have observed it more critically, assures us that "this did not belong to him, at least not for twenty years past, about which time (he adds) I became acquainted with him. Indeed, in the whole air of his face and make there was nothing of that penetrating sagacity which appears in his compositions; he had something rather languid in his look and manner, which did not raise any great expectation in those who did not know him."

In contemplating his profound genius, it becomes a doubt, whether sagacity, penetration, strength, or diligence had the largest share in his composition. He himself invariably spoke of his own abilities with singular modesty. One day, when a friend had been expressing himself in strong terms upon his uncommon talents, Sir Isaac unaffectedly assured him, that for his own part he was sensible, whatever he had done worth notice was owing rather to a patience of thought, than to any extraordinary sagacity. keep the subject constantly before me, and wait till the first dawnings open slowly, by little and little, into a full and clear light."

"I

When engaged in any mathematical meditation, he would occasionally sit on the side of his bed halfdressed for a considerable period. Dinner has frequently waited for him three hours. His intimate friend, Dr. Stukeley (it is even said) once ate up his chicken, after long waiting in vain for his appearance, and putting the bones in the dish, re

placed the cover. When Newton at last left his study, and telling his visitor that he was both weary and hungry,' sat down to table, he merely said with a smile, on perceiving only the relics of the fowl, "I thought I had not dined, but I find I was mistaken."

A proof of the excellence of his temper, likewise, is on record, which deserves to be remembered. His favourite little dog, Diamond, overturned a lighted candle among some papers, the almost-completed labours of several years. The loss, as he was at this time far advanced in life, was irretrievable: yet he only rebuked the cause of it with, "O Diamond! Diamond! thou little knowest the mischief thou hast done!"

The readiness of his invention superseded in him the necessity of putting his memory much to the trial; but this was the offspring of a vigorous intenseness of thought. He spent, therefore, the prime of his age in abstruse researches, when his situation in a college gave him leisure, and even while study was his proper profession: but as soon as he was removed to the Mint, he applied himself chiefly to the business of his office, and so far quitted mathematics and philosophy, as not to engage in any new pursuit of either kind afterward.

4

He had read fewer of the modern mathematicians, as we learn from Dr. Pemberton, than could have been imagined; but his own prodigious powers readily supplied him with whatever he wanted in any subject which he undertook. He often censured the handling of geometrical subjects by algebraic calculations; and praised Slusius, Barrow, and Huygens for not having yielded to the bad taste,

which then began to prevail. He used to commend the laudable attempt of Hugo de Omerique to restore the ancient analysis, and highly esteemed Apollonius' book De Sectione Rationis,' as presenting a clearer notion of that analysis than had been previously published. He particularly approved Huygens, as the most elegant and accurate imitator of the ancients, of whose taste and form of demonstration he always professed himself a great admirer.

The same writer likewise observes, that though his memory was indeed much decayed in the latter years of his life, the common discourse, that he did not then understand his own works,' was entirely groundless. The opinion might, perhaps, arise from his not being always ready to speak upon these subjects; but this was, probably, the consequence of that species of abstraction, which is not unfrequently seen in men of genius.

He had, moreover, a natural modesty and meekness of disposition, which evinced itself strongly in his conduct to Leibnitz. He was not, however, totally insensible of injuries; and after the perfidious behaviour of Conti, his customary caution increased into a habit of reserve bordering upon mistrust, which was taken amiss by men of integrity entitled on account of their talents to free communications of his superior knowledge.

Another consequence of his native modesty was, that he never talked either of himself or others, so as to furnish the most malicious with the least occasion even to suspect him of vanity. Invariably kind, candid, and affable, he never thought either his merit, or his reputation, sufficient to excuse him

from any of the common offices of social life. No singularities, natural or affected, distinguished him from other men.

With respect to his religious sentiments, though he was firmly attached to the Church of England,* he was averse from the persecution of Non-conformists. He judged of men by their conduct; and the true Schismatics, in his opinion, were the vicious and the wicked. Not that he confined his principles to Natural Religion, for he was thoroughly persuaded of the truth of Revelation, and amidst the great variety of books constantly before him, that which he studied with the greatest application was, the Bible.†

*As some unfair attempts have been made to claim this great name for the soi-disant Rationalists, I subjoin a brief note upon the subject:

I have elsewhere shown (observes Bishop Burgess) that Sir Isaac Newton was not a Socinian; and I have quoted from him language, that conveys the sentiments of a sincere adherent to the Church, of which he was a member. He could, therefore, be neither Socinian nor Arian. The following extract from Whiston's Memoirs of his own life will confirm this conclusion: "On or about the year 1720, I take it to have been, that I was refused to be admitted a Member of the Royal Society by Sir Isaac Newton. The case was this: Sir Hans Sloane, Dr. Edmund Halley, and myself were once together at Child's Coffee House, in St. Paul's Churchyard; and Dr. Halley asked me, Why I was not a member of that Society?' I answered, Because they durst not choose a Heretic.' Upon which Dr. Halley said to Sir Hans Sloane that, if he would propose me, he would second it:' which was done accordingly. When Sir Isaac Newton heard this, he was greatly concerned, and by what I then learned closeted some of the Members, in order to get rid of me; and told them, that if I was chosen a Member, he would not be President.""

+ So Collins, in the brighter intervals distinguishing his last

He did not neglect those opportunities of doing good, which the revenues of his patrimony and a profitable employment, improved by a prudent economy, put into his power. When decency upon any occasion required expense and show, he was magnificent without grudging it, and with a very good grace. At other times that pomp, which seems great only to low minds, was utterly retrenched, and it's cost reserved for better uses.

He never married, and perhaps he never had leisure to think of it. Immersed in profound studies during the prime of his age, and subsequently occupied in an employment of considerable importance, or with the society which his merit drew round him, he was not sensible of any vacancy in life. He left 32,000l. behind him, but made no will; thinking, as Fontenelle assures us, that a legacy was no gift.'

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After his death, there were found among his papers several discourses upon subjects of Antiquity, History, Divinity, Chemistry, and Mathematics. Some of these have been published.

unhappy depression of mind, travelled with no other book than an English Testament, such as children carry to the school; and upon Johnson's taking it into his hand, out of curiosity to see what companion a man of letters had chosen, I have but one book,' said he, but that is the best.' This is happily noticed in the concluding lines of his epitaph by Hayley and Sargent in Chichester Cathedral, as well as by the sculptor on his monument:

*

'Who join'd pure Faith to strong poetic power;
Who, in reviving Reason's lucid hour,

Sought on one book his troubled mind to rest,

And rightly deem'd the Book of GOD the best."'