WITH
THE ROYAL SOCIETY, FIELDING, SMART, &c.
A Parallel between Orator HENLEY and Sir JOHN HILL--his love of the
Science of Botany, with the fate of his "Vegetable System"--ridicules
scientific Collectors; his "Dissertation on Royal Societies," and his
"Review of the Works of the Royal Society"--compliments himself
that he is NOT a Member--successful in his attacks on the
Experimentalists, but loses his spirit in encountering the
Wits--"The Inspector"--a paper war with FIELDING--a literary
stratagem--battles with SMART and WOODWARD--HILL appeals to the
Nation for the Office of Keeper of the Sloane Collection--closes
his life by turning Empiric--Some Epigrams on HILL--his
Miscellaneous Writings.
In the history of literature we discover some who have opened their
career with noble designs, and with no deficient powers, yet unblest
with stoic virtues, having missed, in their honourable labours, those
rewards they had anticipated, they have exhibited a sudden transition
of character, and have left only a name proverbial for its disgrace.
Our own literature exhibits two extraordinary characters, indelibly
marked by the same traditional odium. The wit and acuteness of Orator
HENLEY, and the science and vivacity of the versatile Sir JOHN HILL,
must separate them from those who plead the same motives for abjuring
all moral restraint, without having ever furnished the world with a
single instance that they were capable of forming nobler views.
This _orator_ and this _knight_ would admit of a close parallel;[281]
both as modest in their youth as afterwards remarkable for their
effrontery. Their youth witnessed the same devotedness to study, with
the same inventive and enterprising genius. Hill projected and pursued
a plan of botanical travels, to form a collection of rare plants: the
patronage he received was too limited, and he suffered the misfortune
of having anticipated the national taste for the science of botany by
half a century. Our young philosopher's valuable "Treatise on Gems,"
from Theophrastus, procured for him the warm friendship of the eminent
members of the Royal Society. To this critical period of the lives of
Henley and of Hill, their resemblance is striking; nor is it less from
the moment the surprising revolution in their characters occurred.
Pressed by the wants of life, they lost its decencies. Henley
attempted to poise himself against the University; Hill against the
Royal Society. Rejected by these learned bodies, both these Cains of
literature, amid their luxuriant ridicule of eminent men, still evince
some claims to rank among them. The one prostituted his genius in his
"Lectures;" the other, in his "Inspectors." Never two authors were
more constantly pelted with epigrams, or buffeted in literary
quarrels. They have met with the same fate; covered with the same
odium. Yet Sir John Hill, this despised man, after all the fertile
absurdities of his literary life, performed more for the improvement
of the "Philosophical Transactions," and was the cause of diffusing a
more general taste for the science of botany, than any other
contemporary. His real ability extorts that regard which his
misdirected ingenuity, instigated by vanity, and often by more
worthless motives, had lost for him in the world.[282]
At the time that Hill was engaged in several large compilations for
the booksellers, his employers were desirous that the honours of an
F.R.S. should ornament his title-page. This versatile genius, however,
during these graver works, had suddenly emerged from his learned
garret, and, in the shape of a fashionable lounger, rolled in his
chariot from the Bedford to Ranelagh; was visible at routs; and
sate at the theatre a tremendous arbiter of taste, raising about him
tumults and divisions;[283] and in his "Inspectors," a periodical
paper which he published in the _London Daily Advertiser_, retailed
all the great matters relating to himself, and all the little
matters he collected in his rounds relating to others. Among other
personalities, he indulged his satirical fluency on the scientific
collectors. The Antiquarian Society were twitted as medal-scrapers and
antediluvian knife-grinders; conchologists were turned into
cockleshell merchants; and the naturalists were made to record
pompous histories of stickle-hacks and cockchafers. Cautioned by
Martin Folkes, President of the Royal Society,[284] not to attempt
his election, our enraged comic philosopher, who had preferred
his jests to his friends, now discovered that he had lost three
hundred at once. Hill could not obtain three signatures to his
recommendation. Such was the real, but, as usual, not the ostensible,
motive of his formidable attack on the Royal Society. He produced his
"Dissertation on Royal Societies, in a letter from a Sclavonian
nobleman to his friend," 1751; a humorous prose satire, exhibiting a
ludicrous description of a tumultuous meeting at the Royal Society,
contrasted with the decorum observed in the French Academy; and
moreover, he added a _conversazione_ in a coffee-house between some
of the members.
Such was the declaration of war, in a first act of hostility; but the
pitched-battle was fought in "A Review of the Works of the Royal
Society, in eight parts," 1751. This literary satire is nothing less
than a quarto volume, resembling, in its form and manner, the
Philosophical Transactions themselves; printed as if for the
convenience of members to enable them to bind the "Review" with the
work reviewed. Voluminous pleasantry incurs the censure of that
tedious trifling which it designs to expose. In this literary facetia,
however, no inconsiderable knowledge is interspersed with the
ridicule. Perhaps Hill might have recollected the successful attempts
of Stubbe on the Royal Society, who contributed that curious knowledge
which he pretended the Royal Society wanted; and with this knowledge
he attempted to combine the humour of Dr. King.[285]
Hill's rejection from the Royal Society, to another man would have
been a puddle to step over; but he tells a story, and cleanly passes
on, with impudent adroitness.[286]
Hill, however, though he used all the freedom of a satirist, by
exposing many ridiculous papers, taught the Royal Society a more
cautious selection. It could, however, obtain no forgiveness from the
parties it offended; and while the respectable men whom Hill had the
audacity to attack, Martin Folkes, the friend and successor of Newton,
and Henry Baker, the naturalist, were above his censure,--his own
reputation remained in the hands of his enemies. While Hill was
gaining over the laughers on his side, that volatile populace soon
discovered that the fittest object to be laughed at was our literary
Proteus himself.
The most egregious egotism alone could have induced this versatile
being, engaged in laborious works, to venture to give the town the
daily paper of _The Inspector_, which he supported for about two
years. It was a light scandalous chronicle all the week, with a
seventh-day sermon. His utter contempt for the genius of his
contemporaries, and the bold conceit of his own, often rendered the
motley pages amusing. _The Inspector_ became, indeed, the instrument
of his own martyrdom; but his impudence looked like magnanimity; for
he endured, with undiminished spirit, the most biting satires, the
most wounding epigrams, and more palpable castigations.[287] His vein
of pleasantry ran more freely in his attacks on the Royal Society than
in his other literary quarrels. When Hill had not to banter ridiculous
experimentalists, but to encounter wits, his reluctant spirit soon
bowed its head. Suddenly even his pertness loses its vivacity; he
becomes drowsy with dulness, and, conscious of the dubiousness of his
own cause, he skulks away terrified: he felt that the mask of quackery
and impudence which he usually wore was to be pulled off by the hands
now extended against him.
A humorous warfare of wit opened between Fielding, in his _Covent-Garden
Journal_, and Hill, in his _Inspector_. _The Inspector_ had made the
famous lion's head, at the Bedford, which the genius of Addison and
Steele had once animated, the receptacle of his wit; and the wits
asserted, of this now _inutile lignum_, that it was reduced to a mere
state of _blockheadism_. Fielding occasionally gave a facetious
narrative of a paper war between the forces of Sir Alexander Drawcansir,
the literary hero of the _Covent-Garden Journal_, and the army of
Grub-street; it formed an occasional literary satire. Hill's lion, no
longer Addison's or Steele's, is not described without humour.
Drawcansir's "troops are kept in awe by a strange mixed monster, not
much unlike the famous chimera of old. For while some of our
Reconnoiterers tell us that this monster has the appearance of a lion,
others assure us that his ears are much longer than those of that
generous beast."
Hill ventured to notice this attack on his "blockhead;" and, as was
usual with him, had some secret history to season his defence with.
"The author of 'Amelia,' whom I have only once seen, told me, at that
accidental meeting, he held the present set of writers in the
utmost contempt; and that, in his character of Sir Alexander
Drawcansir, he should treat them in the most unmerciful manner. He
assured me he had always excepted me; and after honouring me with
some encomiums, he proceeded to mention a conduct which would be,
he said, useful to both; this was, the amusing our readers with a
mock fight; giving blows that would not hurt, and sharing the
advantage in silence."[288]
Thus, by reversing the fact, Hill contrived to turn aside the frequent
stories against him by a momentary artifice, arresting or dividing
public opinion. The truth was, more probably, as Fielding relates it,
and the story, as we shall see, then becomes quite a different affair.
At all events, Hill incurred the censure of the traitor who violates a
confidential intercourse.
And if he lies not, must at least betray.
POPE.
Fielding lost no time in reply. To have brought down the _Inspector_
from his fastnesses into the open field, was what our new General only
wanted: a battle was sure to be a victory. Our critical Drawcansir has
performed his part, with his indifferent puns, but his natural
facetiousness.
"It being reported to the General that a _hill_ must be levelled,
before the Bedford coffee-house could be taken, orders were given; but
this was afterwards found to be a mistake; for this _hill_ was only a
little paltry _dunghill_, and had long before been levelled with the
dirt. The General was then informed of a report which had been spread
by his _lowness_, the Prince of Billingsgate, in the Grub-street army,
that his Excellency had proposed, by a _secret treaty_ with that
Prince, to carry on the war only in appearance, and so to betray the
common cause; upon which his Excellency said with a smile:--'If the
betrayer of a private treaty could ever deserve the least credit, yet
his Lowness here must proclaim himself either a liar or a fool. None
can doubt but that he is the former, if he hath feigned this treaty;
and I think few would scruple to call him the latter, if he had
rejected it.' The General then declared the fact stood thus:--'His
Lowness came to my tent on an affair of his own. I treated him, though
a commander in the enemy's camp, with civility, and even kindness. I
told him, with the utmost good-humour, I should attack his Lion; and
that he might, if he pleased, in the same manner defend him; from
which, said I, no great loss can happen on either side--'"
_The Inspector_ slunk away, and never returned to the challenge.
During his inspectorship, he invented a whimsical literary stratagem,
which ended in his receiving a castigation more lasting than the
honours performed on him at Ranelagh by the cane of a warm Hibernian.
Hill seems to have been desirous of abusing certain friends whom he
had praised in the _Inspectors_; so volatile, like the loves of
coquettes, are the literary friendships of the "Scribleri." As this
could not be done with any propriety there, he published the first
number of a new paper, entitled _The Impertinent_. Having thus
relieved his private feelings, he announced the cessation of this new
enterprise in his _Inspectors_, and congratulated the public on the
ill reception it had given to the _Impertinent_, applauding them for
their having shown by this that "their indignation was superior to
their curiosity." With impudence all his own, he adds--"It will not be
easy to say too much in favour of the candour of the town, which has
despised a piece that cruelly and unjustly attacked Mr. Smart the
poet." What innocent soul could have imagined that _The Impertinent_
and _The Inspector_ were the same individual? The style is a specimen
of _persiflage_; the thin sparkling thought; the pert vivacity, that
looks like wit without wit; the glittering bubble, that rises in
emptiness;--even its author tells us, in _The Inspector_, it is "the
most pert, the most pretending," &c.[289]
Smart, in return for our Janus-faced critic's treatment, balanced the
amount of debtor and creditor with a pungent Dunciad _The Hilliad_.
Hill, who had heard of the rod in pickle, anticipated the blow, to
break its strength; and, according to his adopted system, introduced
himself and Smart, with a story of his having recommended the bard to
his bookseller, "who took him into salary on my approbation. I
betrayed him into the profession, and having starved upon it, he has a
right to abuse me." This story was formally denied by an advertisement
from Newbery, the bookseller.
"The Hilliad" is a polished and pointed satire. The hero is thus
exhibited on earth, and in heaven.