ds, 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 wa