Count Rumford negotiates with Mr. Underwood on the subject of
Davy's appointment to the Royal Institution.--Terms of his
engagement communicated in a letter to Mr. Gilbert.--Davy
arrives, and takes possession of his apartments.--He
receives various mortifications.--He is elected a member
of the Tepidarian Society.--Is appointed Lecturer instead
of assistant.--He makes a tour in Cornwall with Mr.
Underwood.--Anecdotes.--His Poem on Spinosism.--His letter to
Mr. Gilbert, communicating a galvanic discovery.--He commences
his first grand course of lectures.--His brilliant success.--A
letter from Mr. Purkis.--Davy's style criticised.--His
extraordinary method of experimenting.--Davy and Wollaston
compared as experimentalists.--The style of Davy as a lecturer
and a writer contrasted.
It may be readily supposed that the prominent situation held
by Davy at Bristol, as well as the merited celebrity of his
writings, must have rendered his name familiar to all the leading
philosophers of the day. It were vain, therefore, to enquire
through what channel the echo of his fame first reached the ear of
Count Rumford;[34] it is sufficient to state that Mr. Underwood,
a gentleman ardently attached to science, and devoted to the
interests of the Royal Institution, was amongst the first to urge
the expediency of inviting him to London as a public lecturer. Mr.
Underwood, in a letter lately addressed to me from Paris, says, "In
consequence of several conversations with Count Rumford, on the
subject of Davy's superior talents, and the advantages that would
accrue to the Institution from engaging him as a lecturer, the
Count called upon me on the 5th of January 1801, having received
from the Managers of the Institution full powers to negotiate upon
the subject. On this occasion, however, I thought it advisable
to introduce the Count to Mr. James Thomson, as being the more
eligible person to treat in behalf of Davy, not only on account of
his greater intimacy with him, but because, not being a proprietor,
he was unconnected with the interests of the Institution."
[34] Amongst other celebrated chemists who had become
acquainted with Davy at Bristol, and subsequently spoken of
his extraordinary genius, was Dr. Hope. He informs me that
Count Rumford had applied to him to find some chemist who would
undertake the office of lecturer at the Institution; but that he
failed in discovering such a person as he could, with propriety,
introduce; some time afterwards, however, he became acquainted
with Davy, and having soon perceived his talents, recommended
him without any hesitation to the patronage of the Count. This
circumstance, combined with several others, no doubt might have
had its influence in deciding the fate of Davy.
Mr. Thomson, who saw the prospect of honour and emolument thus
opened for his friend, after a satisfactory interview with Count
Rumford, immediately wrote to Davy, with an earnest recommendation
that he should, without loss of time, come to town, and conclude an
arrangement thus auspiciously commenced.
Davy, with his characteristic ardour, answered the letter in person.
He was introduced to the Managers, and the preliminary arrangements were
soon completed; the nature of which is disclosed by himself in the
following letter to Mr. Gilbert.
Hotwells, March 8, 1801.
I cannot think of quitting the Pneumatic Institution, without
giving you intimation of it in a letter; indeed, I believe I should
have done this some time ago, had not the hurry of business, and
the fever of emotion produced by the prospect of novel changes in
futurity, destroyed to a certain extent my powers of consistent
action.
You, my dear Sir, have behaved to me with great kindness, and
the little ability I possess you have very much contributed to
develope; I should therefore accuse myself of ingratitude, were I
to neglect to ask your approbation of the measures I have adopted
with regard to the change of my situation, and the enlargement of
my views in life.
In consequence of an invitation from Count Rumford, given to me
with some proposals relative to the Royal Institution, I visited
London in the middle of February, where, after several conferences
with that gentleman, I was invited by the Managers of the Royal
Institution to become the Director of their laboratory, and their
Assistant Professor of chemistry; at the same time I was assured
that, within the space of two or three seasons, I should be made
sole Professor of Chemistry, still continuing Director of the
laboratory.
The immediate emolument offered was sufficient for my wants; and
the sole and uncontrolled use of the apparatus of the Institution,
for private experiments, was to be granted me.
The behaviour of Count Rumford, Sir Joseph Banks, Mr. Cavendish,
and the other principal managers, was liberal and polite; and they
promised me any apparatus that I might need for new experiments.
The time required to be devoted to the services of the Institution
was but short, being limited chiefly to the winter and spring.
The emoluments to be attached to the office of sole Professor of
Chemistry are great; and, above all, the situation is permanent,
and held very honourable.
These motives, joined to the approbation of Dr. Beddoes, who
with great liberality has absolved me from my engagements at the
Pneumatic Institution, and the strong wishes of most of my friends
in London and Bristol, determined my conduct.
Thus I am quickly to be transferred to London, whilst my sphere
of action is considerably enlarged, and as much power as I could
reasonably expect, or even wish for at my time of life, secured to
me without the obligation of labouring at a profession.
The Royal Institution will, I hope, be of some utility to society.
It has undoubtedly the capability of becoming a great instrument
of moral and intellectual improvement. Its funds are very great.
It has attached to it the feelings of a great number of people
of fashion and property, and consequently may be the means of
employing, to useful purposes, money which would otherwise be
squandered in luxury, and in the production of unnecessary labour.
Count Rumford professes that it will be kept distinct from party
politics; I sincerely wish that such may be the case, though I
fear it.[35] As for myself, I shall become attached to it full of
hope, with the resolution of employing all my feeble powers towards
promoting its true interests.
So much of my paper has been given to pure egotism, that I have but
little room left to say any thing concerning the state of science,
and the public mind in town; unfortunately, there is little to say.
I have heard of no important discoveries. In politics, nothing
seems capable of exciting permanent interest. The stroke of
poverty, though severely felt, has been a torpedo, benumbing all
energy, and not irritating and awakening it, as might have been
expected.
Here, at the Pneumatic Institution, the nitrous oxide has evidently
been of use. Dr. Beddoes is proceeding in the execution of his
great popular physiological work, which, if it equals the plan he
holds out, ought to supersede every work of the kind.
I have been pursuing Galvanism with labour, and some success. I
have been able to produce galvanic power from simple plates, by
effecting on them different oxidating and deoxidating processes;
but on this point I cannot enlarge in the small remaining space of
paper.
Your remark concerning _negative_ Galvanism, and deoxidation, is
curious, and will most probably hold good.
It will give me much pleasure to see your mathematical Paper[36]
in the Philosophical Transactions, but it will be, unfortunately,
to me the pleasure of _blind_ sympathy, though derived from the
consciousness that you ought to be acting upon, and instructing the
world at large.
It will give me sincere pleasure to hear from you, when you are at
leisure. After the 11th I shall be in town--my direction, Royal
Institution, Albemarle Street. I am, my dear friend, with respect
and affection, Yours,
HUMPHRY DAVY.
[35] In England, politics so constantly mix themselves up with
all our institutions, while science unfortunately finds so few
disciples and patrons in the ranks of aristocracy, that every new
society is viewed with jealousy and party spirit. Johnson says,
in his Life of Addison--"It has been suggested that the Royal
Society was instituted soon after the Restoration, to divert the
attention of the people from public discontent."--P.
[36] He alludes to some calculations connected with light, and
the imponderable fluids.
The first notice of Davy's name, in the Minute Book of the Royal
Institution, occurs in the Report adopted at a Meeting of the
Managers, on Monday the 16th of February 1801.
"Resolved--That Mr. Humphry Davy be engaged in the service of the
Royal Institution, in the capacities of Assistant Lecturer in
Chemistry, Director of the Laboratory, and Assistant Editor of the
Journals of the Institution, and that he be allowed to occupy a
room in the house, and be furnished with coals and candles; and
that he be paid a salary of one hundred guineas per annum."
On the 16th of March 1801, after reporting that "a room had been
prepared and furnished for Davy," the Minute proceeds to state that
"Mr. Davy had arrived at the Institution on Wednesday the 11th of
March, and taken possession of his situation."
It is a curious fact, that the first impression produced on Count
Rumford by Davy's personal appearance, was highly unfavourable to
the young philosopher, and he expressed to Mr. Underwood his great
regret at having been influenced by the ardour with which his suit
had been urged; and he actually would not allow him to lecture in
the Theatre, until he had given a specimen of his abilities in the
smaller lecture-room. His first lecture, however, entirely removed
every prejudice which had been formed; and at its conclusion the
Count emphatically exclaimed--"Let him command any arrangements
which the Institution can afford." He was accordingly, on the very
next day, promoted to the great Theatre.
Davy's uncouth appearance and address subjected him to many other
mortifications on his first arrival in London. There was a smirk
on his countenance, and a pertness in his manner, which, although
arising from the perfect simplicity of his mind, were considered
as indicating an unbecoming confidence. Johnson, the publisher,
as many of my readers will probably remember, was in the custom
of giving weekly dinners to the more distinguished authors and
literary stars of the day. Davy, soon after his appointment,
was invited upon one of these occasions, but the host actually
considered it necessary to explain, by way of apology, to his
company, the motives which had induced him to introduce into their
society a person of such humble pretensions. At this dinner a
circumstance occurred, which must have been very mortifying to
the young philosopher. Fuseli was present, and, as usual, highly
energetic upon various passages of beauty in the poets, when Davy
most unfortunately observed, that there were passages in Milton
which he could never understand. "Very likely, very likely, Sir,"
replied the artist in his broad German accent, "but I am sure that
is not Milton's fault."
On the 7th of April, he was elected a member of a society which
consisted of twenty-five of the most violent republicans of
the day; it was called the "_Tepidarian_ Society," from the
circumstance of nothing but tea being allowed at their meetings,
which were held at Old Slaughter's Coffee House in Saint Martin's
Lane. To the influence of this society, Mr. Underwood states that
Davy was greatly indebted for his early popularity. Fame gathers
her laurels with a slow hand, and the most brilliant talents
require a certain time for producing a due impression upon the
public; the _Tepidarians_ exerted all their personal influence to
obtain an audience before the reputation of the lecturer could have
been sufficiently known to attract one.
Although the acquaintance between Davy and Count Rumford commenced
so inauspiciously, they very soon became friends, and mutually
entertained for each other the highest regard.
Davy's improved manners and naturally simple habits, at this
period, were highly interesting and exemplary: towards his old
friends he conducted himself with the greatest amenity, and
frequently consulted them upon certain points connected with his
new station in society. The following anecdote was communicated
by Mr. Underwood.--"I introduced him," says he, "to my old
friend, the excellent Sir Henry Englefield, who was the first
intimate acquaintance Davy had formed in the higher circles; he
was received by him with all that warmth of manner, and kindness
of feeling, which so eminently distinguished him. Shortly after
this introduction, Sir Harry sent him an invitation to meet
me at dinner. Davy found himself unable to frame an answer to
his satisfaction, and fearing he might betray his ignorance of
etiquette, ran to my house, and greatly alarmed my mother by the
extreme anxiety he displayed, and the manner in which he entreated
her to send me to him the moment I returned. I went and found him
cudgelling his brains to produce this first attempt at fashionable
composition; a dozen answers were on his table, and he was in the
highest degree excited and annoyed."
It would appear that, immediately after his arrival at the Royal
Institution, he entered upon the duties of his station, and
performed them so greatly to the satisfaction of the Managers,
that, at a Meeting held on the first of June, not more than six
weeks afterwards, the following Resolutions were passed.
"Resolved--That Mr. Humphry Davy, Director of the Chemical
Laboratory, and Assistant Lecturer in Chemistry, has, since he has
been employed at the Institution, given satisfactory proofs of his
talents as a Lecturer.
"Resolved--That he be appointed, and in future denominated,
Lecturer in Chemistry at the Royal Institution, instead of
continuing to occupy the place of _Assistant_ Lecturer, which he
has hitherto filled."
From an examination of the Minute Book, it appears that Dr.
Garnett, whose health had long been on the decline, resigned his
professorship on the 15th of June,[37] and that on the 6th of July
in the same year, Dr. Young was engaged as Professor of Natural
Philosophy, Editor of the Journals, and general Superintendent of
the House, at the salary of 300_l._ per annum.
[37] He delivered his farewell Lecture on the 9th of the same
month.
With Dr. Garnett he had lived on terms of great intimacy; with his
successor he associated with less ease and freedom.
At a meeting of the Managers, also held in July, several
Resolutions were passed to the following effect.
"Resolved--That a Course of Lectures on the Chemical Principles of
the Art of Tanning be given by Mr. Davy. To commence the second of
November next; and that respectable persons of the trade, who shall
be recommended by Proprietors of the Institution, be admitted to
these lectures gratis.
"Resolved further--That Mr. Davy have permission to absent himself
during the months of July, August, and September, for the purpose
of making himself more particularly acquainted with the practical
part of the business of tanning, in order to prepare himself for
giving the above-mentioned course of lectures."
Davy, it would appear, availed himself of the permission granted
to him by the above resolution of the Managers, and during the
interval visited his native country.
He had arranged with his friend Underwood to make a tour through
Cornwall; but as it was his wish to remain at Bristol for a few
days, on his way to the West, it was agreed between them that they
should meet at Penzance.
Davy, however, became impatient, and wrote the following letter to
his friend, a composition of much wildness, and obnoxious to the
suspicion of Spinosism.
MY DEAR UNDERWOOD,
That part of Almighty God which resides in the rocks and woods,
in the blue and tranquil sea, in the clouds and sunbeams of the
sky, is calling upon thee with a loud voice: religiously obey its
commands, and come and worship with me on the ancient altars of
Cornwall.
I shall leave Bristol on Thursday next, possibly before, so that
by this day week I shall probably be at Penzance. Ten days or a
fortnight after, I shall expect to see you, and to rejoice with you.
We will admire together the wonders of God,--rocks and the sea,
dead hills and living hills covered with verdure. Amen.
Write to me immediately, and say when you will come. Direct H.
Davy, Penzance. Farewell, Being of energy!
Your's with unfeigned affection,
H. DAVY.
Mr. Underwood transmitted to me the above letter with the following
extract from his journal.
"On the 25th I went to Bristol, and on the 30th arrived at Mrs.
Davy's at Penzance. On the 1st of August we set off on a pedestrian
excursion, and proceeded along the edge of the cliffs, round the
Land's End, Cape Cornwall, Saint Just, and Saint Ives, to Redruth,
and thence back to Penzance.
"Two days afterwards we again started, and trudged along the
shore to the Lizard. Kynance Cove had from the commencement of
our intimacy been a daily theme of his conversation. No epithets
were sufficiently forcible to express his admiration at the beauty
of the spot: the enthusiastic delight with which he dwelt upon
the description of the Serpentine rocks, polished by the waves,
and reflecting the brightest tints from their surfaces, seemed
inexhaustible, and when we had arrived at the spot he appeared
absolutely entranced.
"During these excursions his conversation was most romantic and
poetical. His views of Nature, and her sublime operations, were
expressed without reserve, as they rapidly presented themselves
to his imagination: they were the ravings of genius; but even his
nonsense was that of a superior being."
At the village of Mullion, a little incident occurred, which
evinced the existence of that gastronomic propensity which, in
after years, displayed itself in a wider range of operations. The
tourists had, on their road, purchased a fine large bass of a
fisherman, with the intention of desiring the landlady to dress it.
On arriving at the inn, Mr. Underwood retired into a room for the
purpose of making some notes in the journal he regularly kept. Davy
had disappeared. In the course of a few minutes a most tremendous
uproar was heard in the kitchen, and the indignant vociferations
of the hostess, which, even with all the advantages of Cornish
recitative, was not of the most melodious description, became
fearfully audible. Davy, it seems, had volunteered his assistance
in making the sauce and stuffing for the aforesaid bass; and had
he not speedily retreated, his services would have been rewarded,
not according to the scientific practice of appending a string of
letters to his name, but in conformity with the equally ancient
custom of attaching a certain dishonourable addition to the skirts
of his jacket.
I have observed that his letter to Mr. Underwood betrayed a
tincture of _Spinosism_. It may be here remarked, that during the
year 1801 he composed a poem, which he arbitrarily distinguished
by that appellation, singularly opposed to the tenor of the
sentiments. Through the kindness of Mr. Greenough I possess a copy
of it in its original state, for it was subsequently altered, and
published in a collection, edited by Miss Johanna Baillie; and
still more recently, it underwent farther corrections, and was
printed for private circulation in the form in which I shall here
introduce it.
Lo! o'er the Earth the kindling spirits pour
The flames of life, that bounteous Nature gives;
The limpid dew becomes the rosy flower;
The insensate dust awakes, and moves, and lives.
All speaks of change: the renovated forms
Of long forgotten things arise again.
The light of suns, the breath of angry storms,
The everlasting motions of the main;
These are but engines of the Eternal Will,
The One Intelligence; whose potent sway
Has ever acted, and is acting still,
Whilst stars, and worlds, and systems, all obey:
Without whose power, the whole of mortal things
Were dull, inert, an unharmonious band;
Silent as are the harp's untuned strings
Without the touches of the poet's hand.
A sacred spark, created by His breath,
The immortal mind of man his image bears;
A spirit living midst the forms of death,
Oppress'd but not subdued by mortal cares--
A germ, preparing in the winter's frost,
To rise and bud and blossom in the spring;
An unfledged eagle by the tempest tost,
Unconscious of his future strength of wing:--
The child of trial, to mortality,
And all its changeful influences given:
On the green earth decreed to move and die;
And yet by such a fate prepared for Heaven.--
Soon as it breathes, to feel the mother's form
Of orbed beauty, through its organs thrill;
To press the limbs of life with rapture warm,
And drink of transport from a living rill:
To view the skies with morning radiance bright,
Majestic mingling with the ocean blue,
Or bounded by green hills, or mountains white;
Or peopled plains of rich and varied hue:
The nobler charms astonish'd to behold
Of living loveliness, to see it move,
Cast in expression's rich and varied mould,
Awakening sympathy, compelling love:--
The heavenly balm of mutual hope to taste,
Soother of life; affection's bliss to share,
Sweet as the stream amidst the desert waste,
As the first blush of arctic daylight fair:--
To mingle with its kindred, to descry
The path of power--in public life to shine;
To gain the voice of popularity;
The idol of to-day, the man divine:--
To govern others by an influence strong
As that high law, which moves the murm'ring main;
Raising and carrying all its waves along,
Beneath the full-orb'd moon's meridian reign:--
To scan how transient is the breath of praise;
A winter's zephyr trembling on the snow,
Chill'd as it moves; or as the northern rays,
First fading in the centre, whence they flow:--
To live in forests mingled with the whole
Of natural forms, whose generations rise
In lovely change, in happy order roll
On land, in ocean, in the glittering skies:--
Their harmony to trace--The Eternal Cause
To know in love, in reverence to adore--
To bend beneath the inevitable law,
Sinking in death; its human strength no more:--
Then, as awakening from a dream of pain,
With joy its mortal feelings to resign;
Yet all its living essence to retain,
The undying energy of strength divine:
To quit the burdens of its earthly days,
To give to Nature all her borrow'd powers;
Ethereal fire to feed the solar rays,
Ethereal dew to glad the earth in showers.
The following letter was written from London, after his return from
his Cornish excursion.
TO DAVIES GIDDY, ESQ.
Royal Institution, Nov. 14, 1801.
MY DEAR SIR,
After leaving Cornwall in August, I spent about three weeks in
Bristol, and at Stowey, so that I did not arrive in London until
the 20th of September.
On my arrival I found that Count Rumford had altered his plans of
absence, and had left London on that very day for the Continent,
purposing to return in about two months. He is now at Paris, and in
about a fortnight we expect him here.
I shall soon have an opportunity of submitting Captain Trevitheck's
boiler to his observation, and in my next letter I shall give you
his opinion of it.
You of course have read an account of Dr. Herschel's experiments on
the heat-making rays; from some late observations it appears, that
there are other invisible rays beyond the violet ones, possessed of
the _chemical_ agency of Light. Sennebier ascertained some time ago
that the violet rays blackened muriate of silver in three seconds;
whereas the red rays required, for this effect, twenty minutes.
Ritter and Dr. Wollaston have found that beyond the violet rays
there is exerted a strong deoxidating action. Muriate of silver
placed in the spectrum is not altered beyond the red rays; but it
is instantly blackened when placed on the outside of the violet
rays. I purpose to try whether the invisible deoxidating rays will
produce light, when absorbed by solar phosphorus.
The most curious galvanic facts lately noticed, are the combustion
of gold, silver, and platina. Professor Tromsdorf, by connecting
the ends of a moderately strong battery with gold and silver leaf,
produced the combustion of them with vivid light. In repeating the
experiment on a thin slip of platina, I have produced the same
effect.
I yesterday ascertained rather an important fact, namely, that
a galvanic battery may be constructed _without any metallic
substance_! By means of ten pieces of well-burnt charcoal, nitrous
acid, and water, arranged alternately in wine-glasses, I produced
all the effects usually obtained from zinc, silver, and water.
The Bakerian Lecture by Dr. Young, our Lecturer on Natural
Philosophy, is now reading before the Royal Society. He attempts to
revive the doctrine of Huygens and Euler, that light depends upon
undulations of an ethereal medium. His proofs (i.e. his presumptive
proofs) are drawn from some strong and curious analogies he has
discovered between Light and Sound.
I shall strongly hope, now the Peace has arrived, to see you soon
in London, as you proposed a tour through the Continent; indeed,
you should fix your permanent residence in London, where alone you
can do what you ought--instruct and delight numbers of improved men.
I am, my friend, yours
With unfeigned esteem and respect,
HUMPHRY DAVY.
Although during 1801 Davy had given some desultory Lectures,
his splendid career cannot be said to have commenced until the
following year, when on the 21st of January he delivered his
Introductory Lecture to a crowded and enlightened audience in the
Theatre of the Royal Institution; which was afterwards printed at
the request of a respectable proportion of the Society.
It contains a masterly view of the benefits to be derived from the
various branches of science. He represents the Chemist as the Ruler
of all the elements that surround us, and which he employs either
for the satisfaction of his wants, or the gratification of his
wishes. Not contented with what is to be found on the surface of
the earth, he describes him as penetrating into her bosom, and even
of searching the depths of the ocean, for the purpose of allaying
the restlessness of his desires, or of extending and increasing the
boundaries of his power.
In examining the science of Chemistry, with regard to its great
agency in the improvement of society, he offers the following
almost prophetic remarks. "Unless any great physical changes should
take place upon the globe, the permanency of the Arts and Sciences
is rendered certain, in consequence of the diffusion of knowledge,
by means of the invention of Printing; and by which those words
which are the immutable instruments of thought, are become the
constant and widely diffused nourishment of the mind, and the
preservers of its health and energy.
"Individuals influenced by interested motives or false views, may
check for a time the progress of knowledge;--moral causes may
produce a momentary slumber of the public spirit;--the adoption
of wild and dangerous theories, by ambitious or deluded men, may
throw a temporary opprobrium on literature; but the influence of
true philosophy will never be despised; the germs of improvement
are sown in minds, even where they are not perceived; and sooner or
later, the spring-time of their growth must arrive.
"In reasoning concerning the future hopes of the human species,
we may look forward with confidence to a state of society, in
which the different orders and classes of men will contribute more
effectually to the support of each other than they have hitherto
done. This state, indeed, seems to be approaching fast; for, in
consequence of the multiplication of the means of instruction,
the man of science and the manufacturer are daily becoming more
assimilated to each other. The artist, who formerly affected
to despise scientific principles, because he was incapable of
perceiving the advantages of them, is now so far enlightened as to
favour the adoption of new processes in his art, whenever they are
evidently connected with a diminution of labour; and the increase
of projectors, even to too great an extent, demonstrates the
enthusiasm of the public mind in its search after improvement.
"The arts and sciences, also, are in a high degree cultivated and
patronized by the rich and privileged orders. The guardians of
civilization and of refinement, the most powerful and respected
part of society, are daily growing more attentive to the realities
of life,--and giving up many of their unnecessary enjoyments, in
consequence of the desire to be useful, are becoming the friends
and protectors of the labouring part of the community.
"The unequal division of property and of labour, the differences
of rank and condition amongst mankind, are the sources of power
in civilized life--its moving causes, and even its very soul.
In considering and hoping that the human species is capable of
becoming more enlightened and more happy, we can only expect
that the different parts of the great whole of society should
be intimately united together, by means of knowledge and the
useful arts; that they should act as the children of one great
parent, with one determinate end, so that no power may be rendered
useless--no exertions thrown away.
"In this view, we do not look to distant ages, or amuse ourselves
with brilliant though delusive dreams, concerning the infinite
improveability of man, the annihilation of labour, disease, and
even death, but we reason by analogy from simple facts, we consider
only a state of human progression arising out of its present
condition,--we look for a time that we may reasonably expect--FOR A
BRIGHT DAY, OF WHICH WE ALREADY BEHOLD THE DAWN."
The extraordinary sensation produced amongst the members of the
Institution by this first course of lectures, has been vividly
described by various persons who had the good fortune to be his
auditors; and foreigners have recorded in their travels the
enthusiasm with which the great English chemist had inspired his
countrymen.
The members of the Tepidarian Society, sanguine in the success of
their child,--for so they considered Davy,--purposely appointed
their anniversary festival on the day of his anticipated triumph.
They were not disappointed in their hopes; and their dinner was
marked by every demonstration of hilarity. In the evening, Davy
accompanied by a few friends, attended, for the first time in his
life, a masquerade which was given at Ranelagh.
On the following day, he dined with Sir Harry Englefield. I have a
copy of the invitation, addressed to Mr. Underwood, now before me.
DEAR UNDERWOOD,
Davy, covered with glory, dines with me to-day at five. If you
could meet him, it would give me great pleasure.
Tilney Street, Friday.
Yours truly,
H. C. ENGLEFIELD.
At this dinner, Sir Harry wrote a request to Davy to print his
Lecture, which was signed by every one present, except Mr.
Underwood, who declined, from the apprehension that the signature
of so intimate a friend might give to that which was a spontaneous
homage to talent, the appearance of a previously concerted scheme.
I shall here weave into my narrative some extracts from several
letters, with which Mr. Purkis, one of the earliest friends of
Davy, has lately favoured me.
"On his first appointment at the Royal Institution, I was specially
introduced to him by a common friend, Thomas Poole, Esq. of Nether
Stowey in Somersetshire; and I continued in habits of friendship
with him during a great portion of his life, though somewhat less
intimately during the last few years. I loved him living--I lament
his early death: I shall ever honour his memory.
"The sensation created by his first course of Lectures at the
Institution, and the enthusiastic admiration which they obtained,
is at this period scarcely to be imagined. Men of the first rank
and talent,--the literary and the scientific, the practical and
the theoretical, blue-stockings, and women of fashion, the old
and the young, all crowded--eagerly crowded the lecture-room.
His youth, his simplicity, his natural eloquence, his chemical
knowledge, his happy illustrations and well-conducted experiments,
excited universal attention and unbounded applause. Compliments,
invitations, and presents, were showered upon him in abundance from
all quarters; his society was courted by all, and all appeared
proud of his acquaintance.
"One instance of attention is particularly recalled to my memory.
A talented lady, since well known in the literary world, addressed
him anonymously in a poem of considerable length, replete with
delicate panegyric and genuine feeling. It displayed much
originality, learning, and taste: the language was elegant, the
versification harmonious, the sentiments just, and the imagery
highly poetical. It was accompanied with a handsome ornamental
appendage for the watch, which he was requested to wear when he
delivered his next lecture, as a token of having received the poem,
and pardoned the freedom of the writer. It was long before the
fair authoress was known to him, but they afterwards became well
acquainted with each other."
I should not redeem the pledge given to my readers, nor
fulfill the duties of an impartial biographer, were I to omit
acknowledging that the manners and habits of Davy very shortly
underwent a considerable change. Let those who have vainly
sought to disparage his excellence, enjoy the triumph of knowing
that he was not perfect; but it may be asked in candour, where
is the man of twenty-two years of age, unless the temperature
of his blood were below zero, and his temperament as dull and
passionless as the fabled god of the Brahmins, who could remain
uninfluenced by such an elevation? Look at Davy in the laboratory
at Bristol, pursuing with eager industry various abstract points
of research; mixing only with a few philosophers, sanguine like
himself in the investigation of chemical phenomena, but whose
sphere of observation must have been confined to themselves, and
whose worldly knowledge could scarcely have extended beyond the
precincts of the Institution in which they were engaged. Shift
the scene--behold him in the Theatre of the Royal Institution,
surrounded by an aristocracy of intellect as well as of rank; by
the flowers of genius, the _élite_ of fashion, and the beauty
of England, whose very respirations were suspended in eager
expectation to catch his novel and satisfactory elucidations of
the mysteries of Nature. Could the author of the Rambler have
revisited us, he would certainly have rescinded the passage in
which he says--"All appearance of science is hateful to women; and
he who desires to be well received by them, must qualify himself
by a total rejection of all that is rational and important; must
consider learning as perpetually interdicted, and devote all his
attention to trifle, and all his eloquence to compliment."
It is admitted that his vanity was excited, and his ambition
raised, by such extraordinary demonstrations of devotion; that the
bloom of his simplicity was dulled by the breath of adulation; and
that, losing much of the native frankness which constituted the
great charm of his character, he unfortunately assumed the garb
and airs of a man of fashion; let us not wonder if, under such
circumstances, the inappropriate robe should not always have fallen
in graceful draperies.
At length, so popular did he become, under the auspices of the
Duchess of Gordon and other leaders of high fashion, that even
their _soirées_ were considered incomplete without his presence;
and yet these fascinations, strong as they must have been, never
tempted him from his allegiance to Science: never did the charms
of the saloon allure him from the pursuits of the laboratory, or
distract him from the duties of the lecture-room. The crowds that
repaired to the Institution in the morning were, day after day,
gratified by newly devised and highly illustrative experiments,
conducted with the utmost address, and explained in language at
once perspicuous and eloquent.
He brought down Science from those heights which were before
accessible only to a few, and placed her within the reach of all;
he divested the goddess of all severity of aspect, and represented
her as attired by the Graces.
It is perhaps not possible to convey a better idea of the
fascination of his style, than by the relation of the following
anecdote. A person having observed the constancy with which Mr.
Coleridge attended these lectures, was induced to ask the poet what
attractions he could find in a study so unconnected with his known
pursuits. "I attend Davy's lectures," he replied, "to increase my
stock of metaphors."
But, as Johnson says, in the most general applause some discordant
voices will always be heard; and so was it upon the present
occasion. It was urged by several modern _Zoili_, that the style
was far too florid and imaginative for communicating the plain
lessons of truth; that he described objects of Natural History
by inappropriate imagery, and that violent conceits frequently
usurped the place of philosophical definitions. This was Boeotian
criticism; the Attic spirits selected other points of attack:
they rallied him on the ground of affectation, and whimsically
represented him as swayed by a mawkish sensibility, which
constantly betrayed him into absurdity. There might be some show
of justice in this accusation: The world was not large enough to
satisfy the vulgar ambition of the conqueror, but the minutest
production of nature afforded ample range for the scrutinizing
intelligence of the philosopher; and he would consider a particle
of crystal with so delicate a regard for its minute beauties,
and expatiate with so tender a tone of interest on its fair
proportions, as almost to convey an idea that he bewailed the
condition of necessity which for ever allotted it so slender a
place in the vast scheme of creation.
After the observations which have been offered with regard to
the injurious tendency of metaphors in all matters relating to
science, I may probably be charged with inconsistency in defending
Davy from the attacks thus levelled against his style. We need
not the critic to remind us that the statue of a Lysippus may
be spoiled by gilding; but I would observe that the style which
cannot be tolerated in a philosophical essay, may under peculiar
circumstances be not only admissible, but even expedient, in a
popular lecture. "_Neque ideo minus efficaces sunt orationes nostræ
quia ad aures judicantium cum voluptate perveniunt. Quid enim si
infirmiora horum temporum templa credas, quia non rudi cæmento,
et informibus tegulis exstruuntur; sed marmore nitent et auro
radiantur?_"
Let us consider, for a moment, the class of persons to whom Davy
addressed himself. Were they students prepared to toil with
systematic precision, in order to obtain knowledge as a matter
of necessity?--No--they were composed of the gay and the idle,
who could only be tempted to admit instruction by the prospect of
receiving pleasure,--they were children, who could only be induced
to swallow the salutary draught by the honey around the rim of the
cup.
It has been well observed, that necessity alone can urge the
traveller over barren heaths and snow-topped mountains, while he
treads with rapture along the fertile vales of those happier climes
where every breeze is perfume, and every scene a picture.
If Science can be promoted by increasing the number of its
votaries, and by enlisting into its service those whom wealth
and power may render valuable as examples or patrons, there does
not exist a class of philosophers to which we are more largely
indebted than to popular lecturers, or to those whose eloquence has
clothed with interest, subjects otherwise severe and uninviting.
How many disciples did Mineralogy acquire through the lectures of
Dr. Clarke at Cambridge, who may truly be said to have covered a
desert with verdure, and to have raised from barren rocks flowers
of every hue and fragrance! In the sister university, what an
accession of strength and spirit have the animated discourses of
Dr. Buckland brought to the ranks of Geologists! To judge fairly
of the influence of a popular style, we should acquaint ourselves
with the effects of an opposite method; and if an appeal be made
to experience, I may very safely abide the issue. Dr. Young, whose
profound knowledge of the subjects he taught, no one will venture
to question, lectured in the same theatre, and to an audience
similarly constituted to that which was attracted by Davy, but he
found the number of his attendants diminish daily, and for no other
reason than that he adopted too severe and didactic a style.[38]
[38] From the following minute it would appear, that Dr. Young's
connection with the Royal Institution was but of short duration.
It will be remembered that his appointment took place on July 6,
1801.
"Resolved--That Dr. Young be paid the balance of two years'
complete salary, and that his engagement with the Institution
terminate from this time--July 4, 1803."
In speaking of Davy's lectures as mere specimens of happy oratory,
we do injustice to the philosopher. Had he merely added the
Corinthian foliage to a temple built by other hands, we might have
commended his taste, and admired his talent of adaptation, and
there our eulogium must have ended; but the edifice itself was
his own; he dug the materials from the quarry, formed them into
a regular pile, and then with his masterly touch added to its
strength beauty, and to its utility grace.
In addition to these morning lectures, we find that he was also
engaged in delivering a course in the evening; of which the
following notice is extracted from one of the scientific journals
of the time. "On the 25th, Mr. Davy commenced a course of lectures
on Galvanic phenomena. Sir Joseph Banks, Count Rumford, and other
distinguished philosophers, were present. The audience were highly
gratified, and testified their satisfaction by general and repeated
applause.
"Mr. Davy, who appears to be very young, acquitted himself
admirably. From the sparkling intelligence of his eye, his animated
manner, and the _tout ensemble_, we have no doubt of his attaining
a very distinguished eminence."
From a Minute entered on the Records of the Institution, it appears
that, at a meeting of Managers held on the 31st of May 1802, it was
moved by Sir Joseph Banks, and seconded by Mr. Sullivan,--
"That Mr. Humphry Davy be for the future styled _Professor of
Chemistry_ to the Royal Institution."
A sufficient proof of the universal feeling of admiration which his
lectures had excited.
The success of his exertions is communicated by him to his early
friend, in the following letter.
TO DAVIES GIDDY, ESQ.
DEAR FRIEND,
Since the commencement of the Session at the Institution, I have
had but few moments of leisure. The composition of a first course
of lectures, and the preparation for experiments, have fully
occupied my time; and the anxieties and hopes connected with a
new occupation have prevented me from paying sufficient attention
even to the common duties and affections of life. Under such
circumstances, I trust you will pardon me for having suffered
your letters to remain so long unanswered. In human affairs,
anticipation often constitutes happiness: your correspondence is to
me a real source of pleasure, and, believe me, I would suffer no
opportunity to escape of making it more frequent and regular.
My labours in the Theatre of the Royal Institution have been
more successful than I could have hoped from the nature of them.
In lectures, the effect produced upon the mind is generally
transitory; for the most part, they amuse rather than instruct, and
stimulate to enquiry rather than give information. My audience has
often amounted to four and five hundred, and upwards; and amongst
them some promise to become permanently attached to Chemistry.
This science is much the fashion of the day.
Amongst the latest scientific novelties, the two new planets occupy
the attention of Astronomers, while Natural Philosophers and
Chemists are still employed upon Galvanism.
In a paper lately read before the Royal Society, Dr. Herschel
examines the magnitudes of the bodies discovered by Mr. Piazzi
and Dr. Olbers. He supposes the apparent diameter of Ceres to
be about 22´´, and that of Pallas, 17´´ or 13´´, so that their
real diameters are 163, and 95 or 71 English miles--How small!
The Doctor thinks that they differ from planets in their general
character, as to their diminutive size, the great inclination of
their orbits, the coma surrounding them, and as to the proximity of
their orbits.--From comets, in their want of their eccentricity,
and any considerable nebulosity. He proposes to call them
_Asteroids_.
I mentioned to you in a former letter the great powers of
Galvanism in effecting the combustion of metals. I have lately had
constructed for the laboratory of the Institution, a battery of
immense size: it consists of four hundred plates of five inches in
diameter, and forty, of a foot in diameter. By means of it, I have
been enabled to inflame cotton, sulphur, resin, oil, and ether; it
fuses platina wire, and makes red hot and burns several inches of
iron wire of 1-300th of an inch in diameter; it easily causes fluid
substances, such as oil and water, to boil, decompounds them, and
converts them into gases. I am now examining the agencies of it
upon certain substances that have not as yet been decomposed, and
in my next letter I hope to be able to give you an account of my
experiments.
I shall hope soon to hear that the roads of England are the
haunts of Captain Trevitheck's dragons. You have given them a
characteristic name.
I wish any thing would happen to tempt you to visit London. You
would find a number of persons very glad to see you, with whose
attentions you could not be displeased. With unfeigned respect,
Yours sincerely,
H. DAVY.
It is perhaps not possible to imagine a greater contrast, than
between the elegant manner in which Davy conducted his experiments
in the theatre, and the apparently careless and slovenly style of
his manipulations in the laboratory: but in the one case he was
communicating knowledge; in the other, obtaining it. Mr. Purkis
relates an anecdote very characteristic of this want of refinement
in his working habits. "On one occasion, while reading over to me
an introductory lecture, and wishing to expunge a needless epithet,
instead of taking up the pen, he dipped his forefinger into the
ink-bottle, and thus blotted out the unmeaning expletive."
It was his habit in the laboratory, to carry on several unconnected
experiments at the same time, and he would pass from one to the
other without any obvious design or order: upon these occasions he
was perfectly reckless of his apparatus; breaking and destroying
a part, in order to meet some want of the moment. So rapid were
all his movements, that, while a spectator imagined he was merely
making preparations for an experiment, he was actually obtaining
the results, which were just as accurate as if a much longer time
had been expended. With Davy, rapidity was power.
The rapid performance of intellectual operations was a talent
which displayed itself at every period of his life. We have heard
with what extraordinary rapidity he read at the age of five years;
and we now learn that his chemical enquiries were conducted with
similar facility and quickness.
His early friend Mr. Poole bears his testimony to the existence
of the same quality in the following passage, extracted from a
letter I had lately the favour of receiving from him. "From my
earliest knowledge of my admirable friend, I consider his most
striking characteristic to have been the quickness and truth of
his apprehension. It was a power of reasoning so rapid, when
applied to any subject, that he could hardly be himself conscious
of the process; and it must, I think, have been felt by him, as
it appeared to me, pure intuition. I used to say to him, 'You
understand me before I half understand myself?'
"I recollect on our first acquaintance, he knew but little of the
practice of agriculture. I was at that time a considerable farmer,
and very fond of the occupation. During his visits in those days, I
was at first something like his teacher, but my pupil soon became
my master both in theory and practice."
The chemical manipulations of Wollaston and Davy offered a
singular contrast to each other, and might be considered as highly
characteristic of the temperaments and intellectual qualities of
these remarkable men. Every process of the former was regulated
with the most scrupulous regard to microscopic accuracy, and
performed with the utmost neatness of detail. It has been already
stated with what turbulence and apparent confusion the experiments
of the latter were conducted; and yet each was equally excellent in
his own style; and, as artists, they have not unaptly been compared
to Teniers and Michael Angelo. By long discipline, Wollaston had
acquired such power in commanding and fixing his attention upon
minute objects, that he was able to recognise resemblances, and
to distinguish differences, between precipitates produced by
re-agents, which were invisible to ordinary observers, and which
enabled him to submit to analysis the minutest particle of matter
with success. Davy, on the other hand, obtained his results by
an intellectual process, which may be said to have consisted in
the extreme rapidity with which he seized upon, and applied,
appropriate means at appropriate moments.
Many anecdotes might be related in illustration of the curiously
different structure of the minds of these two ornaments of British
Science. The reader will, in the course of these memoirs, be
furnished with sufficient evidence of the existence of those
qualities which I have assigned to Davy; another biographer will no
doubt ably illustrate those of Dr. Wollaston.
I shall only observe, that to this faculty of minute observation,
which Dr. Wollaston applied with so much advantage, the chemical
world is indebted for the introduction of more simple methods of
experimenting,--for the substitution of a few glass tubes, and
plates of glass, for capacious retorts and receivers, and for the
art of making grains give the results which previously required
pounds. A foreign philosopher once called upon Dr. Wollaston with
letters of introduction, and expressed an anxious desire to see his
laboratory. "Certainly," he replied; and immediately produced a
small tray containing some glass tubes, a blow-pipe, two or three
watch-glasses, a slip of platinum, and a few test bottles.
Wollaston appeared to take great delight in showing by what
small means he could produce great results. Shortly after he had
inspected the grand galvanic battery constructed by Mr. Children,
and had witnessed some of those brilliant phenomena of combustion
which its powers produced, he accidentally met a brother chemist
in the street, and seizing his button, (his constant habit when
speaking on any subject of interest,) he led him into a secluded
corner; when taking from his waistcoat pocket a tailor's thimble,
which contained a galvanic arrangement, and pouring into it the
contents of a small phial, he instantly heated a platinum wire to a
white heat.
There was another peculiarity connected with Wollaston's habit
of minute observation: it enabled him to press into his service,
at the moment, such ordinary and familiar materials as would
never have occurred to less observing chemists. Mr. Brande
relates an anecdote admirably calculated to exemplify this
habit. He had called upon Dr. Wollaston to consult him upon the
subject of a calculus;--it will be remembered that neither
phosphate of lime, constituting the '_bone earth_' species, nor
the ammoniaco-magnesian phosphate, commonly called the '_triple
phosphate_,' is _per se_ fusible; but that when mixed, these
constitute the '_fusible calculus_' which readily melts before
the blow-pipe. Dr. Wollaston, on finding the substance under
examination refractory, took up his paper-folder, and scraping
off a fragment of the ivory, placed it on the specimen, when it
instantly fused.[39]
[39] I have lately been informed that the idea of constructing
an instrument like the Camera Lucida, first suggested itself to
Dr. Wollaston, on his noticing certain phenomena occasioned by a
crack in the glass before which he was shaving himself.
Having contrasted the manipulations of Davy, as exhibited in the
theatre, with those performed by him in the laboratory, it may,
in this place, be interesting to offer a few remarks upon the
difference of his style as a lecturer and as a writer. Whatever
diversity of opinion may have been entertained as to the former,
I believe there never was but one sentiment with respect to the
latter. There is an ethereal clearness of style, a simplicity of
language, and, above all, a freedom from technical expression,
which render his philosophical memoirs fit studies and models for
all future chemists. Mr. Brande, in a late lecture delivered before
the members of the Royal Institution, very justly alluded to this
latter quality of his writings, and forcibly contrasted it with
the system of Berzelius, of whom it is painful to speak but in
terms of the most profound respect, and yet it is impossible not to
express a deep regret at this distinguished chemist's introduction
of a system of technical expressions, which from its obscurity is
calculated to multiply rather than to correct error, and from its
complications, to require more labour than the science to which it
administers: to apply the quaint metaphor of Locke, "it is no more
suited to improve the understanding, than the move of a jack is to
fill our bellies."
From the readiness with which some continental chemists have
adopted such terms, and from the spirit in which they have defended
them, one might almost be led to suspect that they believed them,
like the words used by the Magi of Persia, to possess a cabalistic
power. Davy foresaw the injury which science must sustain from
such a practice, and endeavoured, both by precept and example, to
discountenance it.
With regard to the introduction of a figurative and ornamental
style into memoirs purely scientific, no one could entertain a more
decided objection; and in his "Last Days," he warns us against the
practice.
"In detailing the results of experiments, and in giving them to the
world, the chemical philosopher should adopt the simplest style
and manner; he will avoid all ornaments, as something injurious
to his subject, and should bear in mind the saying of the first
king of Great Britain, respecting a sermon which was excellent in
doctrine, but overcharged with poetical allusions and figurative
language,--'that the tropes and metaphors of the speaker were like
the brilliant wild flowers in a field of corn, very pretty, but
which did very much hurt the corn.'"