A Budget of Paradoxes, Volume I

by Augustus De Morgan

This was the only answer; but it was no answer at all. Hill's object was to expose the absurdities; he therefore collected the absurdities. I feel sure that Hill was a benefactor of the Royal Society; and much more than he would have been if he had softened their errors and enhanced their praises. No reviewer will object to me that I have omitted Young, Laplace, etc. But then my book has a true title. Hill should not have called his a review of the "Works."

It was charged against Sir John Hill that he had tried to become a Fellow of the Royal Society and had failed. This he denied, and challenged the production of the certificate which a candidate always sends in, and which is preserved.

But perhaps he could not get so far as a certificate—that is, could not find any one to recommend him; he was a likely man to be in such a predicament. As I have myself run foul of the Society on some little points, I conceive it possible that I may fall under a like suspicion. Whether I could have been a Fellow, I cannot know; as the gentleman said who was asked if he could play the violin, I never tried. I have always had a high opinion of the Society upon its whole history. A person used to historical inquiry learns to look at wholes; the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, the College of Physicians, etc. are taken in all their duration. But those who are not historians—I mean not possessed of the habit of history—hold a mass of opinions about current things which lead them into all kinds of confusion when they try to look back. Not to give an instance which will offend any set of existing men—this merely because I can do without it—let us take the country at large. Magna Charta for ever! glorious safeguard of our liberties! Nullus liber homo capiatur aut imprisonetur ... aut aliquo modo destruatur, nisi per judicium parium ....[^[8]] Liber homo: frank home; a capital thing for him—but how about the villeins? Oh, there are none now! But there were. Who cares for villains, or barbarians, or helots? And so England, and Athens, and Sparta, were free States; all the freemen in them were free. Long after Magna Charta, villains were sold with their "chattels and offspring," named in that order. Long after Magna Charta, it was law that "Le Seigniour poit rob, naufrer, et chastiser son villein a son volunt, salve que il ne poit luy maim."[^[9]]

The Royal Society was founded as a co-operative body, and co-operation was its purpose. The early charters, etc. do not contain a trace of the intention to create a scientific distinction, a kind of Legion of Honor. It is clear that the

qualification was ability and willingness to do good work for the promotion of natural knowledge, no matter in how many persons, nor of what position in society. Charles II gave a smart rebuke for exclusiveness, as elsewhere mentioned. In time arose, almost of course, the idea of distinction attaching to the title; and when I first began to know the Society, it was in this state. Gentlemen of good social position were freely elected if they were really educated men; but the moment a claimant was announced as resting on his science, there was a disposition to inquire whether he was scientific enough. The maxim of the poet was adopted; and the Fellows were practically divided into Drink-deeps and Taste-nots.

I was, in early life, much repelled by the tone taken by the Fellows of the Society with respect to their very mixed body. A man high in science—some thirty-seven years ago (about 1830)—gave me some encouragement, as he thought. "We shall have you a Fellow of the Royal Society in time," said he. Umph! thought I: for I had that day heard of some recent elections, the united science of which would not have demonstrated I. 1, nor explained the action of a pump. Truly an elevation to look up at! It came, further, to my knowledge that the Royal Society—if I might judge by the claims made by very influential Fellows—considered itself as entitled to the best of everything: second-best being left for the newer bodies. A secretary, in returning thanks for the Royal at an anniversary of the Astronomical, gave rather a lecture to the company on the positive duty of all present to send the very best to the old body, and the absolute right of the old body to expect it. An old friend of mine, on a similar occasion, stated as a fact that the thing was always done, as well as that it ought to be done.

Of late years this pretension has been made by a President of the Society. In 1855, Lord Rosse presented a confidential memorandum to the Council on the expediency of enlarging their number. He says, "In a Council so small it

is impossible to secure a satisfactory representation of the leading scientific Societies, and it is scarcely to be expected that, under such circumstances, they will continue to publish inferior papers while they send the best to our Transactions."

And, again, with all the Societies represented on the Council, "even if every Science had its Society, and if they published everything, withholding their best papers [i.e., from the Royal Society], which they would not be likely to do, still there would remain to the Royal Society ...." Lord Rosse seems to imagine that the minor Societies themselves transfer their best papers to the Royal Society; that if, for instance, the Astronomical Society were to receive from A.B. a paper of unusual merit, the Society would transfer it to the Royal Society. This is quite wrong: any preference of the Royal to another Society is the work of the contributor himself. But it shows how well hafted is the Royal Society's claim, that a President should acquire the notion that it is acknowledged and acted upon by the other Societies, in their joint and corporate capacities. To the pretension thus made I never could give any sympathy. When I first heard Mr. Christie, Sec. R. S., set it forth at the anniversary dinner of the Astronomical Society, I remembered the Baron in Walter Scott:

"Of Gilbert the Galliard a heriot he sought,