I shall particularly mention one fact of this kind; as it alarmed me much at the time, as a symptom of all my mental powers totally failing me, until I was relieved by the recollection of things of a similar nature having happened to me before. When I was composing the Dissertations which are prefixed to my Harmony of the gospels, I had to ascertain something which had been the subject of much discussion relating to the Jewish passover (I have now forgotten what it was) and for that purpose had to consult, and compare several writers. This I accordingly did, and digested the result in the compass of a few paragraphs, which I wrote in short hand. But having mislaid the paper, and my attention having been drawn off to other things, in the space of a fortnight, I did the same thing over again; and should never have discovered that I had done it twice, if, after the second paper was transcribed for the press, I had not accidentally found the former, which I viewed with a degree of terror.
Apprized of this defect, I never fail to note down as soon as possible every thing that I wish not to forget. The same failing has led me to devise, and have recourse to, a variety of mechanical expedients to secure and arrange my thoughts, which have been of the greatest use to me in the composition of large and complex works; and what has excited the wonder of some of my readers, would only have made them smile if they had seen me at work. But by simple and mechanical methods one man shall do that in a month, which shall cost another, of equal ability, whole years to execute. This methodical arrangement of a large work is greatly facilitated by mechanical methods, and nothing contributes more to the perspicuity of a large work, than a good arrangement of its parts.
What I have known with respect to myself has tended much to lessen both my admiration, and my contempt, of others. Could we have entered into the mind of Sir Isaac Newton, and have traced all the steps by which he produced his great works, we might see nothing very extraordinary in the process. And great powers with respect to some things are generally attended with great defects in others; and these may not appear in a man’s writings. For this reason it seldom happens but that our admiration of philosophers and writers is lessened by a personal knowledge of them.
As great excellencies are often balanced by great, though not apparent, defects, so great and apparent defects are often accompanied by great, though not apparent, excellencies. Thus my defect in point of recollection, which may be owing to a want of sufficient coherence in the association of ideas formerly impressed, may arise from a mental constitution more favourable to new associations; so that what I have lost with respect to memory, may have been compensated by what is called invention, or new and original combinations of ideas. This is a subject that deserves attention, as well as every thing else that relates to the affections of the mind.
Though I have often composed much in a little time, it by no means follows that I could have done much in a given time. For whenever I have done much business in a short time, it has always been with the idea of having time more than sufficient to do it in; so that I have always felt myself at ease, and I could have done nothing, as many can, if I had been hurried.
Knowing the necessity of this state of my mind to the dispatch of business, I have never put off any thing to the last moment; and instead of doing that on the morrow which ought to be done to day, I have often blamed myself for doing to day what had better have been put off until to morrow; precipitancy being more my fault than procrastination.
It has been a great advantage to me that I have never been under the necessity of retiring from company in order to compose any thing. Being fond of domestic life, I got a habit of writing on any subject by the parlour fire, with my wife and children about me, and occasionally talking to them, without experiencing any inconvenience from such interruptions. Nothing but reading, or speaking without interruption, has been any obstruction to me. For I could not help attending (as some can) when others spoke in my hearing. These are useful habits, which studious persons in general might acquire, if they would; and many persons greatly distress themselves, and others, by the idea that they can do nothing except in perfect solitude or silence.
Another great subject of my thankfulness to a good providence is my perfect freedom from any embarrassment in my circumstances, so that, without any anxiety on the subject, my supplies have always been equal to my wants; and now that my expences are increased to a degree that I had no conception of some years ago, I am a richer man than I was, and without laying myself out for the purpose. What is more, this indifference about an increase of fortune has been the means of attaining it. When I began my experiments, I expended on them all the money I could possibly raise, carried on by my ardour in philosophical investigations, and entirely regardless of consequences, except so far as never to contract any debt; and if this had been without success, my imprudence would have been manifest. But having succeeded, I was in time more than indemnified for all that I had expended.
My theological studies, especially those which made it necessary for me to consult the Christian Fathers, &c. have also been expensive to me. But I have found my theological friends even more liberal than my philosophical ones, and all beyond my expectations.
In reflecting on my past life I have often thought of two sayings of Jacob. When he had lost one of his sons, and thought of other things that were afflictions to him, he said, “all these things are against me,” at the same time that they were in reality making for him. So the impediment in my speech, and the difficulties of my situation at Needham, I now see as much cause to be thankful for, as for the most brilliant scenes in my life.