Calamities And Quarrels Of Authors Part 43

The chequer'd world's before thee; go, farewell!

Beware of Irishmen; and learn to spell!

But in heaven, among the immortals, never was an unfortunate hero of the vindicative Muses so reduced into nothingness! Jove, disturbed at the noise of this thing of wit, exclaims, that nature had never proved productive in vain before, but now,

On mere privation she bestow'd a frame, And dignified a nothing with a name; A wretch devoid of use, of sense, of grace, The insolvent tenant of inc.u.mber'd s.p.a.ce!

Pallas. .h.i.ts off the style of Hill, as

The neutral nonsense, neither false nor true-- Should Jove himself, in calculation mad, Still negatives to blank negations add; How could the barren ciphers ever breed; But nothing still from nothing would proceed.

Raise, or depress, or magnify, or blame, Inanity will ever be the same.

But Phbus shows there may still be something produced from inanity.

E'en blank privation has its use and end-- From emptiness, how sweetest music flows!

How absence, to possession adds a grace, And modest vacancy, to all gives place.

So from Hillario, some effect may spring; E'en him--that slight penumbra of a thing!

The careless style of the fluent Inspectors, beside their audacity, brought Hill into many sc.r.a.pes. He called Woodward, the celebrated harlequin, "the meanest of all characters." This Woodward resented in a pamphlet-battle, in which Hill was beaten at all points.[290] But Hill, or the Monthly Reviewer, who might be the same person, for that journal writes with the tenderness of a brother of whatever relates to our hero, pretends that the Inspector only meant, that "the character of Harlequin (if a thing so unnatural and ridiculous ought to be called a character) was the _meanest_ on the stage!"[291]

I will here notice a characteristic incident in Hill's literary life, of which the boldness and the egotism is scarcely paralleled, even by Orator Henley. At the time the Sloane Collection of Natural History was purchased, to form a part of our grand national establishment, the British Museum, Hill offered himself, by public advertis.e.m.e.nt, in one of his _Inspectors_, as the properest person to be placed at its head.

The world will condemn him for his impudence. The most reasonable objection against his mode of proceeding would be, that the thing undid itself; and that the very appearance, by public advertis.e.m.e.nt, was one motive why so confident an offer should be rejected. Perhaps, after all, Hill only wanted to _advertise himself_.

But suppose that Hill was the man he represents himself to be, and he fairly challenges the test, his conduct only appears eccentric, according to routine. Unpatronised and unfriended men are depressed, among other calamities, with their quiescent modesty; but there is a rare spirit in him who dares to claim favours, which he thinks his right, in the most public manner. I preserve, in the note, the most striking pa.s.sages of this extraordinary appeal.[292]

At length, after all these literary quarrels, Hill survived his literary character. He had written himself down to so low a degree, that whenever he had a work for publication, his employers stipulated, in their contracts, that the author should conceal his name; a circ.u.mstance not new among a certain race of writers.[293] But the genius of Hill was not annihilated by being thrown down so violently on his mother earth; like Anthaeus, it rose still fresh; and like Proteus, it a.s.sumed new forms.[294] Lady Hill and the young Hills were claimants on his industry far louder than the evanescent epigrams which darted around him: these latter, however, were more numerous than ever dogged an author in his road to literary celebrity.[295] His science, his ingenuity, and his impudence once more practised on the credulity of the public, with the innocent quackery of attributing all medicinal virtues to British herbs. He made many walk out, who were too sedentary; they were delighted to cure headaches by feverfew tea; hectic fevers by the daisy; colics by the leaves of camomile, and agues by its flowers. All these were accompanied by plates of the plants, with the Linnaean names.[296] This was preparatory to the _Essences_ of Sage, _Balsams_ of Honey, and _Tinctures_ of Valerian.

Simple persons imagined they were scientific botanists in their walks, with Hill's plates in their hands. But one of the newly-discovered virtues of British herbs was, undoubtedly, that of placing the discoverer in a chariot.

In an Apology for the character of Sir John Hill, published after his death, where he is painted with much beauty of colouring, and elegance of form, the eruptions and excrescences of his motley physiognomy, while they are indicated--for they were too visible to be entirely omitted in anything pretending to a resemblance--are melted down, and even touched into a grace. The Apology is not unskilful, but the real purpose appears in the last page; where we are informed that Lady Hill, fortunately for the world, possesses all his valuable recipes and herbal remedies!

FOOTNOTES:

[281] The moral and literary character of Henley has been developed in "Calamities of Authors."

[282] The twenty-six folios of his "Vegetable System," with many others, testify his love and his labour. It contains 1600 plates, representing 26,000 different figures of plants _from nature only_. This publication ruined the author, whose widow (the sister of Lord Ranelagh) published "An Address to the Public, by the Hon. Lady Hill, setting forth the consequences of the late Sir John Hill's acquaintance with the Earl of Bute," 1787. I should have noticed it in the "Calamities of Authors." It offers a sad and mortifying lesson to the votary of science who aspires to a n.o.ble enterprise. Lady Hill complains of the _patron_; but a patron, however great, cannot always raise the public taste to the degree required to afford the only true patronage which can animate and reward an author. Her detail is impressive:--

"Sir John Hill had just wrote a book of great elegance--I think it was called 'Exotic Botany'--which he wished to have presented to the king, and therefore named it to Lord Bute.

His lordship waived that, saying that 'he had a greater object to propose;' and shortly after laid before him a plan of the most voluminous, magnificent, and costly work that ever man attempted. I tremble when I name its t.i.tle--because I think the severe application which it required killed him; and I am sure the expense ruined his fortune--'The Vegetable System.'

This work was to consist of twenty-six volumes folio, containing sixteen hundred copper-plates, the engraving of each cost four guineas; the paper was of the most expensive kind; the drawings by the first hands. The printing was also a very weighty concern; and many other articles, with which I am unacquainted. Lord Bute said that 'the expense had been considered, and that Sir John Hill might rest a.s.sured his circ.u.mstances should not be injured.' Thus he entered upon and finished his destruction. The sale bore no proportion to the expense. After 'The Vegetable System' was completed, Lord Bute proposed another volume to be added, which Sir John strenuously opposed; but his lordship repeating his desire, Sir John complied, lest his lordship should find a pretext to cast aside repeated promises of ample provision for himself and family. But this was the crisis of his fate--he died."

Lady Hill adds:--"He was a character on which every virtue was impressed." The domestic partiality of the widow cannot alter the truth of the narrative of "The Vegetable System," and its twenty-six tomes.

[283] His apologist forms this excuse for one then affecting to be a student and a rake:--"Though engaged in works which required the attention of a whole life, he was so exact an economist of his time that he scarcely ever missed a public amus.e.m.e.nt for many years; and this, as he somewhere observes, was of no small service to him; as, without indulging in these respects, he could not have undergone the fatigue and study inseparable from the execution of his vast designs."--Short Account of the "Life, Writings, and Character of the late Sir John Hill, M.D." Edinburgh: 1779.

[284] Hogarth has painted a portrait of Folkes, which is still hanging in the rooms of the Royal Society. He was nominated vice-president by the great Sir Isaac Newton, and succeeded him as president. He wrote a work on the "English Silver Coinage," and died at the age of sixty-four, 1754.--ED.

[285] Hill planned his Review with good sense. He says:--"If I am merry in some places, it ought to be considered that the subjects are too ridiculous for serious criticism. That the work, however, might not be without its _real use_, an _Error_ is nowhere exposed without establishing a _Truth_ in its place." He has incidentally thrown out much curious knowledge--such as his plan for forming a _Hortus Siccus_, &c.

The Review itself may still be considered both as curious and entertaining.

[286] In exposing their deficiencies, as well as their redundancies, Hill only wishes, as he tells us, that the Society may by this means become ashamed of what it has been, and that the world may know that _he is NOT a member of it till it is an honour to a man to be so_! This was telling the world, with some ingenuity, and with no little impudence, that the Royal Society would not admit him as a member. He pretends to give a secret anecdote to explain the cause of this rejection. Hill, in every critical conjuncture of his affairs, and they were frequent ones, had always a story to tell, or an evasion, which served its momentary purpose. When caned by an Irish gentleman at Ranelagh, and his personal courage, rather than his stoicism, was suspected, he published a story of _his_ having once caned a person whom he called Mario; on which a wag, considering Hill as a Prometheus, wrote--

"To beat one man great Hill was fated.

What man?--a man whom he created!"

We shall see the story he turned to his purpose, when pressed hard by Fielding. In the present instance, in a letter to a foreign correspondent, who had observed his name on the list of the _Correspondents_ of the Royal Society, Hill said--"You are to know that _I have the honour NOT to be a member of the Royal Society of London_."--This letter lay open on his table when a member, upon his accustomed visit, came in, and in his absence read it. "And we are not to wonder," says Hill, "that he who could obtain intelligence in this manner could also divulge it. _Hinc illae lachrymae!_ Hence all the animosities that have since disturbed this philosophic world." While Hill insolently congratulates himself that he is _not_ a member of the Royal Society, he has most evidently shown that he had no objection to be the member of any society which would enrol his name among them. He obtained his medical degree from no honourable source; and another t.i.tle, which he affected, he mysteriously contracted into barbaric dissonance. Hill ent.i.tled himself--

_Acad. Reg. Scient. Burd. &c. Soc._

To which Smart, in the "Hilliad," alludes--

"While _Jargon_ gave his t.i.tles on a _block_, And styled him M.D. Acad. Budig. Soc."

His personal attacks on Martin Folkes, the president, are caustic, but they may not be true; and on Baker, celebrated for his microscopical discoveries, are keen. He reproaches Folkes, in his severe dedication of the work, in all the dignity of solemn invective.--"The manner in which you represented me to a n.o.ble friend, while to myself you made me much more than I deserved; the ease with which you had excused yourself, and the solemnity with which, in the face of Almighty G.o.d, you excused yourself again; when we remember that the whole was done within the compa.s.s of a day; these are surely virtues in a patron that I, of all men, ought not to pa.s.s over in silence." Baker, in his early days, had unluckily published a volume of lusory poems. Some imitations of Prior's loose tales Hill makes use of to ill.u.s.trate _his_ "Philosophical Transactions." All is food for the malicious digestion of Wit!

His anecdote of Mr. Baker's _Louse_ is a piece of secret scientific history sufficiently ludicrous.

"The Duke of Montague was famous for his love to the whole animal creation, and for his being able to keep a very grave face when not in the most serious earnest. Mr. Baker, a distinguished member of the Royal Society, had one day entertained this n.o.bleman and several other persons with the sight of the peristaltic motion of the bowels in a louse, by the microscope. When the observation was over, he was going to throw the creature away; but the Duke, with a face that made him believe he was perfectly in earnest, told him it would be not only cruel, but ungrateful, in return for the entertainment that creature had given them, to destroy it.

He ordered the boy to be brought in from whom it was procured, and after praising the smallness and delicacy of Mr. Baker's fingers, persuaded him carefully to replace the animal in its former territories, and to give the boy a shilling not to disturb it for a fortnight."--"A Review of the Works of the Royal Society," by John Hill, M.D., p. 5.

[287] These papers had appeared in the London _Daily Advertiser_, 1754. At their close he gleaned the best, and has preserved them in two volumes. But as Hill will never rank as a cla.s.sic, the original nonsense will be considered as most proper for the purposes of a true collector. Woodward, the comedian, in his lively attack on Hill, has given "a mock Inspector," an exquisite piece of literary ridicule, in which he has. .h.i.t off the egotisms and slovenly ease of the real ones. Never, like "The Inspector," flamed such a provoking prodigy in the cloudy skies of Grub-street; and Hill seems studiously to have mortified his luckless rivals by a perpetual embroidery of his adventures in the "Walks at Marybone," the "Rotunda at Ranelagh," spangled over with "my domestics," and "my equipage." [One of his adventures at Ranelagh was sufficiently unfortunate to obtain for him the unenviable notoriety of a caricature print representing him enduring a castigation at the Rotunda gate from an Irish gentleman named Brown, with whose character he had made far too free in one of his "Inspectors." Hill showed much pusillanimity in the affair, took to his bed, and gave out that the whole thing was a conspiracy to murder him. This occasioned the publication of another print, in which he is represented in bed, surrounded by medical men, who treat him with very little respect. One insists on his fee, because Hill has never been acknowledged as one of themselves; and another, to his plea of want of money, responds, "Sell your sword, it is only an enc.u.mbrance."]

[288] It is useful to remind the public that they are often played upon in this manner by the artifices of _political writers_.

We have observed symptoms of this deception practised at present. It is an old trick of the craft, and was greatly used at a time when the nation seemed maddened with political factions. In a pamphlet of "A View of London and Westminster, or the Town-spy," 1725, I find this account:--"The _seeming quarrel_, formerly, between _Mist's Journal_ and the _Flying Post_ was _secretly concerted_ between themselves, in order to decoy the eyes of all the parties on both their papers; and the project succeeded beyond all expectation; for I have been told that the former narrowly missed getting an estate by it."--p. 32.

[289] Isaac Reed, in his "Repository of Fugitive Pieces of Wit and Humour," vol. iv., in republishing "The Hilliad," has judiciously preserved the offending "Impertinent" and the abjuring "Inspector." The style of "The Impertinent" is volatile and poignant. His four cla.s.ses of authors are not without humour. "There are men who write because they have wit; there are those who write because they are hungry; there are some of the modern authors who have a constant fund of both these causes; and there are who will write, although they are not instigated either by the one or by the other. The first are all spirit; the second are all earth; the third disclose more life, or more vapidity, as the one or the other cause prevails; and for the last, having neither the one nor the other principle for the cause, they show neither the one nor the other character in the effect; but begin, continue, and end, as if they had neither begun, continued, nor ended at all." The first cla.s.s he instances by Fielding; the second by Smart. Of the third he says:--"The mingled wreath belongs to Hill," that is himself; and the fourth he ill.u.s.trates by the absurd Sir William Browne.

"Those of the first rank are the most capricious and lazy of all animals. The monkey genius would rarely exert itself, if even idleness innate did not give way to the superior love of mischief. The a.s.s (that is Smart), which characters the second, is as laborious as he is empty; he wears a ridiculous comicalness of aspect (which was, indeed, the physiognomy of the poor poet), that makes people smile when they see him at a distance. His mouth opens, because he must be fed, while we laugh at the insensibility and obstinacy that make him p.r.i.c.k his lips with thistles."

[290] Woodward humorously attributes Hill's attack on him to his _jealousy_ of his successful performance of _Harlequin_, and opens some of the secret history of Hill, by which it appears that early in life he trod the theatrical boards. He tells us of the extraordinary pains the prompter had taken with Hill, in the part of Oroonoko; though, "if he had not quite forgotten it, to very little purpose." He reminds Hill of a dramatic anecdote, which he no doubt had forgotten. It seems he once belonged to a strolling company at May-fair, where, in the scene between Altamont and Lothario, the polite audience of that place all chorused, and agreed with him, when dying he exclaimed, "Oh, Altamont, thy genius is the stronger." He then shows him off as the starved apothecary in _Romeo and Juliet_, in one of his botanic peregrinations to Chelsea Garden; from whence, it is said, he was expelled for "culling too many rare plants"--

"I do remember an apothecary, Culling of simples----."

Hill, who was often so brisk in his attack on the wits, had no power of retort; so that he was always buffeting and always buffeted.

[291] He was also satirised in a poem termed "The Pasquinade,"

published in 1752, in which the G.o.ddesses of Pertness and Dulness join to praise him as their favourite reflex.

"Pertness saw her form distinctly shine In none, immortal Hill! so full as thine."

Dulness speaks of him thus rapturously:--

"See where my son, who gratefully repays Whate'er I lavish'd on his younger days; Whom still my arm protects to brave the town Secure from Fielding, Machiavel, or Brown; Whom rage nor sword e'er mortally shall hurt, Chief of a hundred chiefs o'er all the pert!

Rescued an orphan babe from common sense, I gave his mother's milk to Confidence; She with her own ambrosia bronz'd his face, And changed his skin to monumental bra.s.s.

Whom rage nor sword e'er mortally shall hurt, Chief of a hundred chiefs o'er all the pert!

Rescued an orphan babe from common sense, I gave his mother's milk to Confidence; She with her own ambrosia bronz'd his face, And changed his skin to monumental bra.s.s."

[292] Hill addresses the Lord Chancellor, Archbishop of Canterbury, and the Speaker, on Sir Hans Sloane's Collection of Natural History, proposing himself as a candidate for nomination in the princ.i.p.al office, by whatever name that shall be called:--"I deliver myself with humility; but conscious also that I possess the liberties of a British subject, I shall speak with freedom." He says that the only means left for a Briton is to address his sovereign and the public. "That foreigners will resort to this collection is certain, for it is the most considerable in the world; and that our own people will often visit it is as sure, because it may be made the means of much useful as well as curious knowledge. One and the other will expect a person in that office who has sufficient knowledge: he must be able to give account of every article, freely and fluently, not only in his own, but in the Latin and French languages.

"This the world, and none in it better than your lordship, sees is not a place that any one can execute: it requires knowledge in a peculiar and uncommon kind of study--knowledge which very few possess; and in which, my lord, the bitterest of my enemies (and I have thousands, although neither myself nor they know why) will not say I am deficient----.