by Dr Thomas Young 445 



uncles. He principally resided at Clapham Common ; but his library was latterly 

 at his house in Bedford Square ; and his books were at the command of all men 

 of letters, either personally known to him, or recommended by his friends: 

 indeed the whole arrangement was so impartially methodical, that he never 

 took down a book for his own use, without entering it in the loan book; and 

 after the death of a German gentleman, who had been his librarian, he appointed 

 a day on which he attended in person every week for the accommodation of 

 the few, who thought themselves justified in applying to him for such books 

 as they wished to consult. He was constantly present at the meetings of the 

 Royal Society, as well as at the conversations held at the house of the President ; 

 and he dined every Thursday with the club composed of its members. He had 

 little intercourse with general society, or even with his own family, and saw 

 only once a year the person whom he had made his principal heir. He is said 

 to have assisted several young men, whose talents recommended them to his 

 notice, in obtaining establishments in life; but in his later years, such instances 

 were certainly very rare. His tastes and his pleasures do not seem to have 

 been in unison with those which are best adapted to the generality of mankind ; 

 and amidst the abundance of all the means of acquiring every earthly enjoy- 

 ment, he must have wanted that sympathy, which alone is capable of redoubling 

 our delights, by the consciousness that we share them in common with a 

 multitude of our friends, and of enhancing the beauties of all the bright prospects 

 that surround us, when they are still more highly embellished by reflection 

 "from looks that we love." He could have had no limitation either of comfort 

 or of luxury to stimulate him to exertion; even his riches must have deprived 

 him of the gratification of believing, that each new triumph in science might 

 promote the attainment of some great object in life that he earnestly desired; 

 a gratification generally indeed illusory, but which does not cease to beguile us 

 till we become callous as well to the pleasures as to the sorrows of existence. 

 But in the midst of this "painful pre-eminence," he must still have been capable 

 of extending his sensibility over a still wider field of time and space, and of 

 looking forwards to the approbation of the wise and the good of all countries 

 and of all ages: and he must have enjoyed the highest and purest of all intel- 

 lectual pleasures, arising from the consciousness of his own excellence, and from 

 the certainty that, sooner or later, all mankind must acknowledge his claim to 

 their profoundest respect and highest veneration. 



"It was probably either the reserve of his manners," says Cuvier, "or the 

 modest tone of his writings, that procured him the uncommon distinction of 

 never having his repose disturbed either by jealousy or by criticism. Like his 

 great countryman Newton, whom he resembled in so many other respects, he 

 died full of years and honours, beloved even by his rivals, respected by the 

 age which he had enlightened, celebrated throughout the scientific world, and 

 exhibiting to mankind a perfect model of what a man of science ought to be, 

 and a splendid example of that success, which is so eagerly sought, but so seldom 

 obtained." The last words that he uttered were characteristic of his unalterable 

 love of method and subordination: he had ordered his servant to leave him, 

 and not to return till a certain hour, intending to pass his latest moments in 



