NEWTON. 
•ncontinence of urine, thought to proceed 
from the stone in the bladder, and deemed 
to be incurable. However, by the help of 
a strict regimen and other precautions, 
which till then he never had occasion for, 
he procured considerable intervals of ease 
during the five remaining years of his life. 
Yet he was not free from some severe pa- 
roxysms, which even forced out large drops 
of sweat that ran down his face. In these 
circumstances he was never observed to 
utter the least complaint, nor express the 
smallest impatience ; and as soon as he had a 
moment’s ease he would smile and talk with 
his usual cheerfulness. He was now obliged 
to rely upon Mr. Conduit, who had married 
his niece, for the discharge of his office in 
the Mint. Saturday morning, March 18, 
1727, he read the newspapers, and discours- 
ed a long time with Dr. Mead, his physi- 
cian, having then the perfect use of all his 
senses and his understanding ; but that night 
he entirely lost them all, and not recovering 
them afterwards, died the Monday follow- 
ing, March 20, in the 85th year of his age. 
His corpse lay in state in the Jerusalem 
Chamber, and on the 28th was conveyed 
into Wtstminster-Abbey, the pall being 
supported by the Lord Chancellor, the 
Dukes of Montrose and Roxburgh, and the 
Earls of Pembroke, Sussex, and Maccles- 
field. He was interred near the entrance 
into the choir, on the left hand, where a 
stately monument is erected to his memory, 
with a most elegant inscription upon it. 
Newton’s character has been attempted 
by Mr. Fontenelle and Dr. Pemberton, 
the substance of which is as follows. He 
was of a middle stature, and somewhat in- 
clined to be fat in the latter part of his 
life. His countenance was pleasing and 
venerable at the same time, especially 
when he took off his peruke, and shewed 
his white hair, which was pretty thick. He 
never made use of spectacles, and lost but 
one tooth during his whole life. Bishop 
Atterbury says, that in the whole air of 
Sir Isaac’s face and make, there was no- 
thing of that penetrating sagacity which 
appears in his compositions; that he had 
something rather languid in his look and 
manner, which did not raise any great 
expectation in those who did not know 
him. 
His temper, it is said, was so equal and 
mild, that no accident could disturb it. 
A remarkable instance of which is related 
as follows. Sir Isaac had a favourite little 
dog, which he called Diamond. Being one 
day called out of his study into the next 
room. Diamond was left behind. When 
Sir Isaac returned, having been absent but 
a few minutes, he had the mortification to 
find that Diamond having overset a lighted 
candle among some papers, the nearly finish- 
ed labour of many years was in fiames, and 
almost consumed to ashes. This loss, as 
Sir Isaac was then very far advanced in 
years, was irretrievable ; yet without once 
striking the dog, he only rebuked him with 
this exclamation : “ Oh ! Diamond ! Dia- 
mond! thou little knowest tlie mischief 
thou hast done !” 
He was indeed of so meek and gentle 
a disposition, and so great a lover of peace, 
that he would rather have chosen to re- 
main in obscurity, than to have the calm of 
life ruffled by those storms and dispute.^, 
which genius and learning always draw upon 
those that are most eminent for them. 
From his love of peace, no doubt, arose 
that unusual kind of horror which he felt for 
all disputes : a steady unbroken attention, 
free from those frequent recoilings insepa- 
rably incident to others, was his peculiar 
felicity; he knew it, and he knew the 
value of it. No wonder then that contro- 
versy was looked on as hia bane. When 
some objections, hastily made to his dis- 
coveries concerning light and colours, in- 
duced him to lay aside the design he had 
taken of publishing his optical lectures we 
find him reflecting on that dispute, into 
which he had been unavoidably drawn in 
these terms : “ I blamed my own impru- 
dence for parting with so real a blessing as 
my quiet, to run after a shadow.” It is 
true this shadow, as Fontenelle observes 
did not escape him afterwards, nor did it 
cost him that quiet which he so much va- 
lued, but proved as much a real happiness 
to him as his quiet itself ; yet this was a 
happiness of his own making ; he took a 
resolution from tliese disputes, not to pub. 
lish any more concerning that theory, till 
he had put it above the reach of contro- 
versy, by the exactest experiments, and 
the strictest demonstrations; and accord- 
ingly it has never been called in question 
since. In the same temper, after he had 
sent the manuscript to the Royal Society, 
with his consent to the printing of it by 
them ; yet upon Hook’s injuriously insisting 
that he himself had demonstrated Kepler’s 
problem before our author, he determined 
rather than be again involved in a contro- 
versy to suppress the third book; and he 
was very hardly prevailed upon to alter 
