When the Royal Society was founded, the Fellows set
to work to prove all things, that they might hold fast that which was good. They bent themselves to the question whether sprats were young herrings. They made a circle of the powder of a unicorn's horn, and set a spider in the middle of it; "but it immediately ran out." They tried several times, and the spider "once made some stay in the powder." They inquired into Kenelm Digby's sympathetic powder. "Magnetic cures being discoursed of, Sir Gilbert Talbot promised to communicate what he knew of sympathetical cures; and those members who had any of the powder of sympathy, were desired to bring some of it at the next meeting."
June 21, 1661, certain gentlemen were appointed "curators of the proposal of tormenting a man with the sympathetic powder"; I cannot find any record of the result. And so they went on until the time of Sir John Hill's satire, in 1751. This once well-known work is, in my judgment, the greatest compliment the Royal Society ever received. It brought forward a number of what are now feeble and childish researches in the Philosophical Transactions. It showed that the inquirers had actually been inquiring; and that they did not pronounce decision about "natural knowledge" by help of "natural knowledge." But for this, Hill would neither have known what to assail, nor how. Matters are now entirely changed. The scientific bodies are far too well established to risk themselves. Ibit qui zonam perdidit:
"Let him take castles who has ne'er a groat."
These great institutions are now without any collective purpose, except that of promoting individual energy; they print for their contributors, and guard themselves by a general declaration that they will not be answerable for the things they print. Of course they will not put forward anything for everybody; but a writer of a certain reputation, or matter of a certain look of plausibility and safety,
will find admission. This is as it should be; the pasturer of flocks and herds and the hunters of wild beasts are two very different bodies, with very different policies. The scientific academies are what a spiritualist might call "publishing mediums," and their spirits fall occasionally into writing which looks as if minds in the higher state were not always impervious to nonsense.
The following joke is attributed to Sir John Hill. I cannot honestly say I believe it; but it shows that his contemporaries did not believe he had no humor. Good stories are always in some sort of keeping with the characters on which they are fastened. Sir John Hill contrived a communication to the Royal Society from Portsmouth, to the effect that a sailor had broken his leg in a fall from the mast-head; that bandages and a plentiful application of tarwater had made him, in three days, able to use his leg as well as ever. While this communication was under grave discussion—it must be remembered that many then thought tarwater had extraordinary remedial properties—the joker contrived that a second letter should be delivered, which stated that the writer had forgotten, in his previous communication, to mention that the leg was a wooden leg! Horace Walpole told this story, I suppose for the first time; he is good authority for the fact of circulation, but for nothing more.
Sir John Hill's book is droll and cutting satire. Dr. Maty, (Sec. Royal Society) wrote thus of it in the Journal Britannique (Feb. 1751), of which he was editor:
"Il est fâcheux que cet ingénieux Naturaliste, qui nous a déjà donné et qui nous prépare encore des ouvrages plus utiles, emploie à cette odieuse tâche une plume qu'il trempe dans le fiel et dans l'absinthe. Il est vrai que plusieurs de ses remarques sont fondées, et qu'à l'erreur qu'il indique, il joint en même tems la correction. Mais il n'est pas toujours équitable, et ne manque jamais d'insulter. Que peut
après tout prouver son livre, si ce n'est que la quarante-cinquième partie d'un très-ample et très-utile Recueil n'est pas exempte d'erreurs? Devoit-il confondre avec des Ecrivains superficiels, dont la Liberté du Corps ne permet pas de restreindre la fertilité, cette foule de savans du Premier ordre, dont les Ecrits ont orné et ornent encore les Transactions? A-t-il oublié qu'on y a vu fréquemment les noms des Boyle, des Newton, des Halley, des De Moivres, des Hans Sloane, etc.? Et qu'on y trouve encore ceux des Ward, des Bradley, des Graham, des Ellicot, des Watson, et d'un Auteur que Mr. Hill préfère à tous les autres, je veux dire de Mr. Hill lui-même?"[[7]]