dent for overlooking his prior claims; he endeavored to persuade the members that Newton was indebted to him for the first hint of a discovery which he pretended was but a small part of what he himself had conceived, and was engaged in perfecting; he did not attempt to conceal that he regarded Newton's triumph in the light of a personal injury. When this "strange carriage" was reported (probably with some exaggeration) to Newton, he was, not unreasonably, incensed, and wrote to Halley concerning it in somewhat acrimonious terms. Halley, who seems to have acted throughout a very creditable part, replied by urging that Hooke's conduct had been represented in worse colors than it deserved; whereupon Newton not only expressed his regret for the angry "postscript to his last," but agreed, with the view of "composing the dispute," to insert into the text of his book the following acknowledgment:
"The inverse law of gravity holds in all the celestial motions, as was discovered also independently by my countrymen, Wren, Hooke, and Halley."[1]
How far Hooke was pacified by this concession does not appear; but there is evidence that be continued, although in a lower key, to claim ownership in the discovery of gravity. It was, indeed, difficult for him to see with equanimity the great scientific prize of the century, which he had set before him as the crowning glory of his own career, carried off before his eyes by a swifter competitor; and he could not be expected to recognize, what to us is evident enough, that his powers were wholly unequal to the unique achievement of his rival. The intuition of a discovery is one thing, its demonstration another; and, while the one excites our interest and curiosity, it is to the other that we justly apportion our unqualified admiration.
Between Hooke and Newton no further intercourse seems at any time to have been set on foot. If Hooke was jealous of Newton, Newton was perhaps somewhat ungenerous toward Hooke. He recognized his merits with reluctance, and acknowledged his inventions only by compulsion. Broils and disquietudes, and the fomentors and originators thereof, were in truth odious to him; and he was at all times disposed to conceal a discovery, rather than risk a controversy. "Philosophy," he wrote to Halley,[2] "is such an impertinently litigious lady, that a man had as good be engaged in lawsuits as have to do with her." Thus the turmoil raised by Hooke on the appearance of the first part of the "Principia" inspired him with so deep a disgust that he seriously contemplated suppressing the remainder; and he could never be induced to publish his work on "Optics" until the death of his unquiet opponent had secured for it a peaceful reception. But the most significant fact as regards the relations of these two men is that Newton,
