The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1855-11-15

the unwordineSs Of the man who was content
to pace about his chamber and his trim little
! garden, from morning to night, save when he
4 turned out for half an hour to see if anybody
would listen to him as Lucasian Professor, must
! have rather astonished the busting courtly
Scotch Bishop. Then he was pure as a child; his
niece tells us that he broke an acquaintance of
the greatest intimacy with Vigani, because the
Italian chemist told him some loose story of a
nun. Bishop Burnet's remark, however, is true,
III much more stringent sense than this--in
much more stringent sense than, perhaps,
he ever contemplated. Newton had the whitest
soul he ever knew, simply because his emotion
al nature was the sheet of white paper, which
the metaplysicians Of that period were contin-
ually talking about.
Sir David Brewster has done his best to
prove the contrary. He even fauces that he
mas discovered Sir Isaac in love. Sir Isaac in
love! it is incredible-it is impossible. Fancy
the sedate Lucas;an Professor addressing Lady
Norris like one of those fops, called "pret,y
fellows" whom Steele shortly afterwards satir-
lied in the Taller. Can you resolve to wear
a widows habit perpetually?" he writes.
" whether your ladyship should go Constantly
IN the melancholy .dress o. a widow or flourish
once more among the ladies?r THIS is the
question, and that is the style of courtship
which Sir David, with his eyes open, and all his
5rllsnt 9ntical 5epptasion, attributes to s- nh
losopher whose soul was fixed on enc idea
the increase of gravity inyersely as the square
q! the distance. Sir Isaac, We make bold to
say, never had thought of love.
In comparison with Newton, Uncle Tobys
behaviour to the Widow Wadman was the ex-
IRENE of galantry and RIGHTEOUSNESS. 1t must
be remembered that Newton was god, and
Alexander the Great used TO say that two-he
| rnlght have said three-things reminded him
that he was a mortal. Q nd not god-love sleep,
and food. These three things proved the d-
vinlty OF Sir Isaac, for he never spent a thought
on love, took very little sleep, and as for his
dinner, he never cared for it. and often never
ate It, " He kept neither dog ror cat in has
chamber, says Humphrey Newton, (which
made well fer the ole woman, his bed maker
she faring much the better for it; for in a morn
ing she he's sometimes found both dinner and
supper scarcely tasted OF, which the old woman
has very pleasantly and mumpingly gone away
with" 4
While speaking of food, we may mention, in
passing, as set-of To The negation OF New
tons animal and emotional nature. his one
physical enjoyment. he liked fruit, and could
eat any quantity Of it. AS boy, we find him
IN his account books spending his money on
| cherries, ta-ts, and marmalade. This latter
/ taste seems to have grown with him. for he was
always very fond of q small roasted ounce for
his supper. He was as fond Of orange peel as
Dr. johnson, and used to take ii boiled in wa
ter for his breakfast instead OF tea Applps
too, appear to have been favorite fruit OF mis-:
one of his letters exhibits him longing after
cider, and making great endeavors to secure
some gratis of the genuine redstreaks"
Perhaps 1t was one of those favored "red-
streaks that, falling from the tree, suggested
the system of the world-the universally of
the law of gravitation.
Other enjoyments Newton had none which
were not purely intellectual. Even as "A boy, he
never Joined in the games and amusemeuts Of
his companions. We find him making dials
and water clocks and windmills; and on the
day OF the great storm of 1858, when Cromwell
was drawing his last breath in Whitehall, and
Goodwin stood by mis- bedside, assuring him
that his soul was safe, and Bates went soft and
sad from room to room, and the trees in S.
Jamess Park were uprooted by the tempest,
Newton, in his sixteenth year. was Jumping
| about In the gale, to measure the force OF the
WIND. In more advanced years. his aIcuseneuts
were still more severe. When weary of his other
studies, the different calculus and the irregular
ltles OF the moon, he refreshed himself" with
chronology and all the dry details of lustrums,
Olymplads, and the expedition of the Argo-
nauts.
With such pleasures, it will not be surprising
that we return to negation, and say that his
asthetlcal nature was utterly blank. He had a
perfect horror of poetry, and would have echoed
the sentiment of his friend Barrow, that IT il
" an ingenious kind of nonsense" He showed
his regard for soul pture when he said of his
friend, the Earl of Pembroke, that he was "a
lover of stone dolls" And his opinions of paint
ing is expressed IN an anecdote which we do
not profess to comprehend, but which, accord
ing to the Interpretation suggested by Sir Da-
vld Brewster, implied that he considered mic.
lures nothing bat dirt"
As we look further into Newton's character.
we lind everywhere the same absence Of color.
the same wilderness that Bishop Burnet observ-
ed. One curious specimen of it is presented
in letter Of advice to his young friend, Fran
chs Aston, who was about to set out on his
travels
If you be afronted," wrote the philosopher.
1t is better 1l a torraiae country to pass it by
In silence, or with a jest, though with some dis
honor, than TO endeavor revenge; for in the
first case your credits ne'Cr the worse when YOU
return into England, or como into other com
pany that have not heard of the quarrel. But,
in the second case, you may bear the marks Of
the quarrel while you live, if you outlive it at
ALL"
Here is a lily-liver with vengeance
suading his young friend from quarrel. on the
ground, not of high Christian principle. but Of
unmanly fear. II the truth must be smoker.
newton was coward. 1t is a most amazing
thing to read how frightened he was to face the
public. He could never bear publicity. This
was partly the result of timid disposition. which
made him shrink from criticism, but partly, also.
1t was the result of a selfabsorbed and unsocia.
BILE nature, that all in all to ITSELF and felt
no need of human sympathy. When, shortly
after writing the above letter to Francis Aston.
he was asked for permission to publish one OF
his papers in the Philosophical Transactions.
he gave his consent, on condition that his name
should be withheld.
" For see not" he writes, "what there *
desirable in public esteem; were | able to ac
qulre 1t, and maintain it, it would perhaps in
crease my acquaintance-the thing which I
chiefly study to decline"
This appalling selfabsorption is without
parallel IN the history of the human mind.
After having been ernbroiled in trifing optical
discussion with Dutch physician of the name
of Linus, he writes as follows TO one of his
friends:
L see have made myself slave to philos-
ophy; but if get free of Mr. Linus's business.
will resolutely bid adieu to It ete-nallv. ex'
;epting what l do for my own satisfaction. or
cave to come after me-"
mat sentence represents Sir Isaac to the
ne: All his pursuits were for his own private
'ausiaction; be Stunned mankind and there
s not one of his discoveries that would ever
nave been published, if they had not been drag
5ed into the light by his friends, while he look
ID on, fretting and muttering at the intrusion.
Of him it msy be said, with truth, what was