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tion will endure “to the last syllable of recorded time." Mrs. Newton re-married, and the embryo philosopher seems to have remained under the care of his maternal grandmother and uncle, until he attained the age of 12, when he was sent to the grammar-school at Grantham. While at school he displayed an extraordinary inclination for mechanics, and busied himself, during the time devoted by his schoolmates to play, in making models of various kinds, chiefly clocks and sun-dials, one of the latter of which is still to be seen carved upon the walls of the old manor house at Woolsthorpe. He was entered, in 1661, at Trinity College, Cambridge, where he was fortunate enough to secure the friendship of the learned Dr. Isaac Barrow, who had been elected Greek Professor in 1660, and who became Lucasian * Professor in 1663. In the autumn of 1667, Newton was elected a minor fellow; and on the 16th of March, 1668, he was elected a major fellow; and on the 29th October, 1669, he was appointed Lucasian Professor, in the room of Dr. Barrow, who is said to have resigned with a view to his appointment; and from this period may be dated the development of those scientific discoveries which have given him a world-wide and time-enduring reputation. It is unnecessary to trace further the career of this great philosopher, over whose giant intellect a sad cloud subsequently passed, but who died at a green old age, in his 85th year, but unmarried, on the 20th of March, 1727.

The relations of Sir Isaac, who inherited his personal estate, devoted the sum of £500 to the erection of a monument to his memory in Westminster Abbey, but in his case the proverb that a prophet is honoured everywhere save in his own country and among his own people, has until recently been verified. Some three or four years ago, however, the inhabitants, or the town council, of Grantham, bethought themselves that some ornament was required for a vacant space of ground which is stvled St. Peter's Hill, though it seems to be little, if at all, above the dead level of the Lincolnshire fens. It was suggested and the suggestion was favourably received—that the most appropriate ornament would be a monument to the memory of a m:in whose early career was so closely identified with the town and neighbourhood, and wbose researches had conferred an eternal benefit upo mankind. A committee was formed to carry out this object, and Mr. Thomas Winter, a member of the town council—to whose untiring zeal and energy its successful accomplishment is, we believe, mainly attributable-undertook to act as the honorary secretary. Mr. Winter at once placed himself in communication with Lord Rosse, Lord Brougham, and other gentlemen of distinction in the literary and scientific world, who evinced a warm interest in the success of the scheme. Under these auspices the project received the sanction of the Royal Society, and the patronage of Her Majesty and the Prince Consort, who aided the fund by a subscription of £100. A general meeting of the subscribers was held in 1854, at St. George's Hall, Liverpool, during the séance in that town of the British Association for the Advancement of Science, when it was resolved that the memorial should be a bronze statue, and its execution was entrusted by the Committee of Selection to Mr. Theed, the resalt of whose labours is not only creditable to himself, but not unworthy of the great philosopher whose memory it perpetuates.

The likeness of Sir Isaac is copied from a mask of his face taken after death, and from the portrait bust by Roubilliac. It represents him in the costume of the period, and in the gown of a Master of Arts, in the act of lecturing. The figure is nearly thirteen feet high, weighing upwards of two tons, and about balf the quantity of the material of which it is composed was presented, in the shape of old gun metal, by Her Majesty's Government. The statue was cast at the foundry of Messrs. Robinson and Cottam, of Pimlico, and as a specimen of clean casting, with sharp outline, does them high credit. The figure stands upon a pedestal of Anglesea marble, designed by Mr. Theed, and cut by Mr. Rogers, of Park Hill. The total height of the pedestal and figure is twentyseven feet, and its cost is £1,630, of which £600 was contributed by the inhabitants of Grantham and the neighbourhood.

From an early hour in the morning visitors poured into the town to witness the inauguration of the statue. The interest which such a ceremony would have excited under ordinary circumstances, was increased by the announcement that the inaugural address would be delivered by Lord Brougham, whose devotion to philosophical investigations especially qualified him for such an important duty. The noble and learned lord, who has just completed his eightieth year, and upon whose physical vigour time has made comparatively slight inroads, while bis mental energy, as will be evident to those who peruse his address, remains unimpaired, arrived at Grantham early in the morning, and was received at the Grammar School by the Mayor. A procession was then formed, headed by the band of the South Lincolnshire Militia, which proceeded through Church Terrace, Vine Street, and High Street, to St. Peter's Hill, where i crowd of spectators was assembled—the privileged visitors occupying seats upon platforms erected on the open space surrounding the statue. Lord Brougham—for whom a chair, formerly belonging to Sir I. Newton, was placed upon a däis in front of the statue-was greeted with loud and reiterated applause. At a signal from Mr. Winter the veil which concealed the statue from public view was withdrawn, amid general cheering, and the band played the National Anthem, all the company standing.

At the conclusion of the noble and learned Lord's address, he was presented by the Mayor with a copy

of Newton's Principia, and the invited visitors then proceeded to the Exchange Rooms, where a substantial déjeûner had been provided. The Mayor presided, and was supported by Lord Brougham, and the Bishop of Lincoln.

Foreigners will feel some surprise, and perhaps indulge in some sneers, on learning that we English are in the year 1858 inaugurating a statue to Sir Isaac Newton. Certainly an interval of 131 years is a long space to intervene between the death and the statue of one of the two great men whom England defies the modern world to match. But we have not in former generations been a statue-loving penple. Statues with us have not in past days been happy in their associations. We have our tombs of honour in Westminster Abbey, but it has not been our custom to erect the effigies of our great men in our thoroughfares. A stranger who walked the streets of London some fifteen years since, might have been tempted to believe that in England a public statue was a punishment decreed against great criminals. Unless he wandered away into some remote squares where family pride had placed an image of some egregious kinsman, he would have seen nothing illustrated in stone and bronze but the blots and eankers of our history. No Alfred, or Edward, or Elizabeth, no Shakspeare or Milton, no Bacon or Locke, no Newton; no Drake or Nelson, stood colossal in material greatness, suggesting now and then a quickening thought to some unit among the thousands that swarmed by; but the abounding equestrian statues perpetuated the features of the scarecrows of our annals—tyrants, whom our forefathers slew or expelled, or some unwise sovereign whose name is suggestive only of a suffering people, unjust wars, and disruption of empire; or some Sardanapalus, whose life was a national disease. Our statues were in those days set up by servile courtiers or by factious fanatics. They were memorials not of a great fame, but of an evil notoriety: the venerators of our English worthies could wish no better for them than that they should be kept out of such companionship. We gave our Newton no open-air statue; but he was not unappreciated by us. Apart from the intellectual homage which we, in common with the rest of the world, paid to his mighty genius, he had his material advantages; he sat in our Parliament, he enjoyed a most lucrative and honourable post in the public service, he was the friend and companion of two English Queens, he died very rich, he was honoured with a public funeral and buried in Westminster Abbey. We wish we had as little to reproach ourselves with in the case of all our great men, as we have with regard to Newton. A little town in Lincolnshire, which has hitherto been content to pride itself upon a tall church spire and a quaint inn sign, has, however, just remembered that it gave birth to the greatest of natural philosophers. We are beginning to reform the practice of ancient times; and it is quite in the spirit of our present feeling, that Grantham should claim the distinction of having produced this great mind, and should mark the fact by a statue of the man. The spell of Newton's name is still so potent, that the news that this statue was completed, drew all the notabilities of science together in this unpicturesque, brick-built, Lincolnshire town.

It is, we think, a legitimate subject of national pride that we have not only, in another generation, produced the greatest natural philosopher the world ever saw, but that we can find among us a living man, who is of all living men the most worthy to pronounce his panegyric.

panegyric. This was not an easy matter; great contrasts import ridicule into grave ceremonies; a giant should have a tall man as his shieldbearer. But that the fame of Newton stands too high and rests too broad to be affected by aught that

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