To examine the last years of the calculus dispute does not increase one's admiration for some of the greatest of mankind. Leibniz never conceded an inch toward the recognition of Newton's mathematical precocity and remorselessly continued to the end his attrition of Newton's philosophical absurdities, as he saw them. Newton pushed his pursuit of Leibniz beyond the grave – for his death did not, as Conti once exclaimed, end the quarrel – until at least 1722. And subsidiary warfare broke out on no small scale which, however, I do not mean to explore in detail here. What was written in these last years, at least so far as the original point at issue is concerned, was all passion and tedious repetition. Very little that was new in fact or argument was made public after 1715 – for the essence even of the Clarke-Leibniz exchanges had all been stated before – and the weapons of polemic forged by either party seemed increasingly to be hurled, not at the chief opponents, but at the men of straw who, by now, had firmly assumed their places. It is no surprise to find the dispute concluding amid the futility of offensive wagers, or supposed wagers, and childish abuse. Had Newton, or had he not, publicly called Johann Bernoulli Leibniz's “skirmisher” (enfant perdu)? Who can care?