_THE CENTURY SCIENCE SERIES_
EDITED BY SIR HENRY E. ROSCOE, D.C.L., LL.D., F.R.S.
HUMPHRY DAVY
POET AND PHILOSOPHER
The Century Science Series.
EDITED BY
SIR HENRY E. ROSCOE, D.C.L., F.R.S.
=John Dalton and the Rise of Modern Chemistry.=
By Sir HENRY E. ROSCOE, F.R.S.
=Major Rennell, F.R.S., and the Rise of English Geography.=
By Sir CLEMENTS R. MARKHAM, C. B., F.R.S., President of the Royal
Geographical Society.
=Justus von Liebig: his Life and Work (1803-1873).=
By W. A. SHENSTONE, F.I.C., Lecturer on Chemistry in Clifton
College.
=The Herschels and Modern Astronomy.=
By AGNES M. CLERKE, Author of “A Popular History of Astronomy
during the 19th Century,” &c.
=Charles Lyell and Modern Geology.=
By Rev. Professor T. G. BONNEY, F.R.S.
=James Clerk Maxwell and Modern Physics.=
By R. T. GLAZEBROOK, F.R.S., Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge.
=Humphry Davy, Poet and Philosopher.=
By T. E. THORPE, LL.D., F.R.S., Principal Chemist of the Government
Laboratories.
In Preparation.
=Michael Faraday: his Life and Work.=
By Professor SILVANUS P. THOMPSON, F.R.S.
=Pasteur: his Life and Work.=
By M. ARMAND RUFFER, M.D., Director of the British Institute of
Preventive Medicine.
=Charles Darwin and the Origin of Species.=
By EDWARD B. POULTON, M.A., F.R.S., Hope Professor of Zoology in
the University of Oxford.
=Hermann von Helmholtz.=
By A. W. RÜCKER, F.R.S., Professor of Physics in the Royal College
of Science, London.
MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED, _New York_.
[Illustration: HUMPHRY DAVY.
_ÆTAT 45._
(_From a painting by Jackson_)]
_THE CENTURY SCIENCE SERIES_
HUMPHRY DAVY
POET AND PHILOSOPHER
BY
T. E. THORPE, LL.D., F.R.S.
New York
MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED
1896
PREFACE
For the details of Sir Humphry Davy’s personal history, as set forth
in this little book, I am mainly indebted to the well-known memoirs by
Dr. Paris and Dr. John Davy. As biographies, these works are of very
unequal value. To begin with, Dr. Paris is not unfrequently inaccurate
in his statements as to matters of fact, and disingenuous in his
inferences as to matters of conduct and opinion. The very extravagance
of his laudation suggests a doubt of his judgment or of his sincerity,
and this is strengthened by the too evident relish with which he dwells
upon the foibles and frailties of his subject. The insincerity is
reflected in the literary style of the narrative, which is inflated
and over-wrought. Sir Walter Scott, who knew Davy well and who admired
his genius and his many social gifts, characterised the book as
“_ungentlemanly_” in tone; and there is no doubt that it gave pain to
many of Davy’s friends who, like Scott, believed that justice had not
been done to his character.
Dr. Davy’s book, on the other hand, whilst perhaps too partial at
times--as might be expected from one who writes of a brother to whom he
was under great obligations, and for whom, it is evident, he had the
highest respect and affection--is written with candour, and a sobriety
of tone and a directness and simplicity of statement far more effective
than the stilted euphuistic periods of Dr. Paris, even when he seeks to
be most forcible. When, therefore, I have had to deal with conflicting
or inconsistent statements in the two works on matters of fact, I have
generally preferred to accept the version of Dr. Davy, on the ground
that he had access to sources of information not available to Dr. Paris.
Davy played such a considerable part in the social and intellectual
world of London during the first quarter of the century that, as
might be expected, his name frequently occurs in the personal memoirs
and biographical literature of his time; and a number of journals
and diaries, such as those of Horner, Ticknor, Henry Crabb Robinson,
Lockhart, Maria Edgeworth, and others that might be mentioned, make
reference to him and his work, and indicate what his contemporaries
thought of his character and achievements. Some of these references
will be found in the following pages. It will surprise many Londoners
to know that they owe the Zoological Gardens, in large measure, to a
Professor of Chemistry in Albemarle Street, and that the magnificent
establishment in the Cromwell Road, South Kensington, is the outcome
of the representations, unsuccessful for a time, which he made to his
brother trustees of the British Museum as to the place of natural
history in the national collections. Davy had a leading share also in
the foundation of the Athenæum Club, and was one of its first trustees.
I am further under very special obligations to Dr. Humphry D.
Rolleston, the grand-nephew of Sir Humphry Davy, for much valuable
material, procured through the kind co-operation of Miss Davy, the
granddaughter of Dr. John Davy. This consisted of letters from
Priestley, Kirwan, Southey, Coleridge, Maria Edgeworth, Mrs. Beddoes
(Anna Edgeworth), Sir Joseph Banks, Gregory Watt, and others; and,
what is of especial interest to his biographer, a large number of
Davy’s own letters to his wife. In addition were papers relating to the
invention of the Safety Lamp. Some of the letters have already been
published by Dr. John Davy, but others now appear in print for the
first time. I am also indebted to Dr. Rolleston for the loan of the
portrait representing Davy in Court dress and in the presidential chair
of the Royal Society, which, reproduced in photogravure, forms the
frontispiece to this book. The original is a small highly-finished work
by Jackson, and was painted about 1823. The picture originally belonged
to Lady Davy, who refers to it in the letter to Davies Gilbert (quoted
by Weld in his “History of the Royal Society”), in which she offers
Lawrence’s well-known portrait to the Society, and which, by the way,
the Society nearly lost through the subsequent action of the painter.
For the references to the early history of the Royal Institution I
am mainly indebted to Dr. Bence Jones’s book. I have, moreover, to
thank the Managers of the Institution for their kindness in giving
me permission to see the minutes of the early meetings, and also for
allowing me to consult the manuscripts and laboratory journals in their
possession. These include the original records of Davy’s work, and also
the notes taken by Faraday of his lectures. The Managers have also
allowed me to reproduce Miss Harriet Moore’s sketch--first brought
to my notice by Professor Dewar--of the chemical laboratory of the
Institution as it appeared in the time of Davy and Faraday, and I have
to thank them for the loan of Gillray’s characteristic drawing of the
Lecture Theatre, from which the illustration on p. 70 has been prepared.
I have necessarily had to refer to the relations of Davy to Faraday,
and I trust I have said enough on that subject. Indeed, in my opinion,
more than enough has been said already. It is not necessary to
belittle Davy in order to exalt Faraday; and writers who, like Dr.
Paris, unmindful of George Herbert’s injunction, are prone to adopt an
antithetical style in biographical narrative have, I am convinced, done
Davy’s memory much harm.
I regret that the space at my command has not allowed me to go into
greater detail into the question of George Stephenson’s relations to
the invention of the safety lamp. I have had ample material placed
at my disposal for a discussion of the question, and I am specially
indebted to Mr. John Pattinson and the Council of the Literary and
Philosophical Society of Newcastle-upon-Tyne for their kindness in
lending me a rare, if not unique, collection of pamphlets and reprints
of newspaper articles which made their appearance when the idea of
offering Davy some proof of the value which the coal owners entertained
of his invention was first promulgated. George Stephenson’s claims are
not to be dismissed summarily as pretensions. Indeed, his behaviour
throughout the whole of the controversy increases one’s respect for him
as a man of integrity and rectitude, conscious of what he thought due
to himself, and showing only a proper assurance in his own vindication.
I venture to think, however, that the conclusion to which I have
arrived, and which, from the exigencies of space, is, I fear, somewhat
baldly stated, as to the apportionment of the merit of this memorable
invention, is just and can be well established. Stephenson _might_
possibly have hit upon a safety lamp if he had been allowed to work
out his own ideas independently and by the purely empirical methods
he adopted, and it is conceivable that his lamp _might_ have assumed
its present form without the intervention of Davy; but it is difficult
to imagine that an unlettered man, absolutely without knowledge of
physical science, could have discovered the philosophical principle
upon which the security of the lamp depends.
T. E. T.
_May, 1896._
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--PENZANCE: 1778-1798 9
II.--THE PNEUMATIC INSTITUTION, BRISTOL: 1798-1801 26
III.--THE PNEUMATIC INSTITUTION, BRISTOL: 1798-1801 (_continued_) 54
IV.--THE ROYAL INSTITUTION 66
V.--THE CHEMICAL LABORATORY OF THE ROYAL INSTITUTION 90
VI.--THE ISOLATION OF THE METALS OF THE ALKALIS 110
VII.--CHLORINE 134
VIII.--MARRIAGE--KNIGHTHOOD--“ELEMENTS OF CHEMICAL
PHILOSOPHY”--NITROGEN TRICHLORIDE--FLUORINE 155
IX.--DAVY AND FARADAY--IODINE 173
X.--THE SAFETY LAMP 192
XI.--DAVY AND THE ROYAL SOCIETY--HIS LAST DAYS 213
HUMPHRY DAVY,
POET AND PHILOSOPHER.
CHAPTER I.
PENZANCE: 1778-1798.
Humphry Davy, the eldest son of “Carver” Robert Davy and his wife Grace
Millett, was born on the 17th December, 1778.[A] His biographers are
not wholly agreed as to the exact place of his birth. In the “Lives
of Philosophers of the Time of George III.” Lord Brougham states that
the great chemist was born at Varfell, a homestead or “town-place” in
the parish of Ludgvan, in the Mount’s Bay, where, as the registers and
tombstones of Ludgvan Church attest, the family had been settled for
more than two hundred years.
[A] In some biographical notices--e.g. in the _Gentleman’s
Magazine_, xcix. pt. ii. 9--the year is given as 1779.
Mr. Tregellas, in his “Cornish Worthies” (vol. i., p. 247), also leaves
the place uncertain, hesitating, apparently, to decide between Varfell
and Penzance.
According to Dr. John Davy, his brother Humphry was born in Market Jew
Street, Penzance, in a house now pulled down, but which was not far
from the statue of him that stands in front of the Market House of this
town. Dr. Davy further states that Humphry’s parents removed to Varfell
some years after his birth, when he himself was taken charge of by a
Mr. Tonkin.
The Davys originally belonged to Norfolk. The first member of the
family that settled in Cornwall was believed to have acted as steward
to the Duke of Bolton, who in the time of Elizabeth had a considerable
property in the Mount’s Bay. They were, as a class, respectable yeomen
in fairly comfortable circumstances, who for generations back had
received a lettered education. They took to themselves wives from the
Eusticks, Adamses, Milletts, and other old Cornish families, and, if
we may credit the testimony of the tombstones, had many virtues, were
not overgiven to smuggling or wrecking, and, for the most part, died in
their own beds.
The grandfather of Humphry, Edmund Davy, was a builder of repute in the
west of Cornwall, who married well and left his eldest son Robert, the
father of the chemist, in possession of the small copyhold property of
Varfell, to which reference has already been made. Robert, although
a person of some capacity, seems to have been shiftless, thriftless,
and lax in habits. In his youth he had been taught wood-carving, and
specimens of his skill are still to be seen in and about Penzance. But
he practised his art in an irregular fashion, his energies being mainly
spent in field sports, in unsuccessful experiments in farming, and in
hazardous, and for the most part fruitless, ventures in mining. At his
death, which occurred when he was forty-eight, his affairs were found
to be sadly embarrassed; his widow and five children were left in very
straitened circumstances, and Varfell had to be given up.
Fortunately for the children, the mother possessed the qualities
which the father lacked. Casting about for the means of bringing up
and educating her family, she opened a milliner’s shop in the town,
in partnership with a French lady who had fled to England during the
Revolution.
By prudence, good management, and the forbearance of creditors, she not
only succeeded in rearing and educating her children, but gradually
liquidated the whole of her husband’s debts. Some years later, by an
unexpected stroke of fortune, she was able to relinquish her business.
She lived to a good old age, cheerful and serene, happy in the respect
and affection of her children and in the esteem and regard of her
townspeople. Such a woman could not fail to exercise a strong and
lasting influence for good on her children. That it powerfully affected
the character of her son Humphry, he would have been the first to
admit. Nothing in him was more remarkable or more beautiful than his
strong and abiding love for his mother. No matter how immersed he was
in his own affairs, he could always find time amidst the whirl and
excitement of his London life, amidst the worry and anxiety of official
cares--or, when abroad, among the peaks of the Noric Alps or the ruins
of Italian cities--to think of his far-away Cornish home and of her
round whom it was centred. To the last he opened out his heart to her
as he did to none other; she shared in all his aspirations, and lived
with him through his triumphs; and by her death, just a year before his
own, she was happily spared the knowledge of his physical decay and
approaching end.
* * * * *
Davy was about sixteen years of age when his father died. At that time
he was a bright, curly-haired, hazel-eyed lad, somewhat narrow-chested
and undergrown, awkward in manner and gait, but keenly fond of
out-door sport, and more distinguished for a love of mischief than of
learning.
Dr. Cardew, of the Truro Grammar School, where, by the kindness of the
Tonkins, he spent the year preceding his father’s death, wrote of him
that he did not at that time discover any extraordinary abilities,
or, so far as could be observed, any propensity to those scientific
pursuits which raised him to such eminence. “His best exercises were
translations from the classics into English verse.” He had previously
spent nine years in the Penzance Grammar School under the tyranny
of the Rev. Mr. Coryton, a man of irregular habits and as deficient
in good method as in scholarship. As Davy used to come up for the
customary castigation, the worthy follower of Orbilius was wont to
repeat--
“Now, Master Davy,
Now, sir! I have ’ee
No one shall save ’ee--
Good Master Davy!”
He had, too, an unpleasant habit of pulling the boys’ ears, on the
supposition, apparently, that their receptivity for oral instruction
was thereby stimulated. It is recorded that on one occasion Davy
appeared before him with a large plaster on each ear, explaining,
with a very grave face, that he had “put the plasters on to prevent
mortification.” Whence it may be inferred that, in spite of all the
caning and the ear-pulling, there was still much of the unregenerate
Adam left in “good Master Davy.”
Mr. Coryton’s method of inculcating knowledge and the love of learning,
happily, had no permanent ill-effect on the boy. Years afterwards, when
reflecting on his school-life, he wrote, in a letter to his mother--
“After all, the way in which we are taught Latin and Greek
does not much influence the important structure of our minds.
I consider it fortunate that I was left much to myself when a
child, and put upon no particular plan of study, and that I
enjoyed much idleness at Mr. Coryton’s school. I perhaps owe to
these circumstances the little talents that I have and their
peculiar application.”
If Davy’s abilities were not perceived by his masters, they seemed to
have been fully recognised by his school-fellows--to judge from the
frequency with which they sought his aid in their Latin compositions,
and from the fact that half the love-sick youths of Penzance employed
him to write their valentines and letters. His lively imagination,
strong dramatic power, and retentive memory combined to make him a good
story-teller, and many an evening was spent by his comrades beneath the
balcony of the Star Inn, in Market Jew Street, listening to his tales
of wonder or horror, gathered from the “Arabian Nights” or from his
grandmother Davy, a woman of fervid mind stored with traditions and
ancient legends, from whom he seems to have derived much of his poetic
instinct.
Those who would search in environment for the conditions which
determine mental aptitudes, will find it very difficult to ascertain
what there was in Davy’s boyish life in Penzance to mould him into
a natural philosopher. At school he seems to have acquired nothing
beyond a smattering of elementary mathematics and a certain facility
in turning Latin into English verse. Most of what he obtained in the
way of general knowledge he picked up for himself, from such books as
he found in the library of his benefactor, Mr. John Tonkin. Dr. John
Davy has left us a sketch of the state of society in the Mount’s Bay
during the latter part of the eighteenth century, which serves to show
how unfavourable was the soil for the stimulation and development of
intellectual power. Cornwall at that time had but little commerce; and
beyond the tidings carried by pedlars or ship-masters, or contained
in the _Sherborne Mercury_--the only newspaper which then circulated
in the west of England--it knew little or nothing of what was going
on in the outer world. Its roads were mostly mere bridle-paths, and a
carriage was as little known in Penzance as a camel. There was only one
carpet in the town, the floors of the rooms being, as a rule, sprinkled
with sea-sand:--
“All classes were very superstitious; even the belief in witches
maintained its ground, and there was an almost unbounded
credulity respecting the supernatural and monstrous.... Amongst
the middle and higher classes there was little taste for
literature and still less for science, and their pursuits were
rarely of a dignified or intellectual kind. Hunting, shooting,
wrestling, cock-fighting, generally ending in drunkenness, were
what they most delighted in. Smuggling was carried on to a great
extent, and drunkenness and a low scale of morals were naturally
associated with it.”
Davy, an ardent, impulsive youth of strong social instincts, fond of
excitement, and not over studious, seems, now that he was released
from the restraint of school-life, to have come under the influence of
such surroundings. For nearly a year he was restless and unsettled,
spending much of his time like his father in rambling about the
country and in fishing and shooting, and passing from desultory study
to occasional dissipation. The death of his father, however, made a
profound impression on his mind, and suddenly changed the whole course
of his conduct. As the eldest son, and approaching manhood, he seems at
once to have realised what was due to his mother and to himself. The
circumstances of the family supplied the stimulus to exertion, and he
dried his mother’s tears with the assurance that he would do all in his
power for his brothers and sisters. A few weeks after the decease of
his father he was apprenticed to Mr. Bingham Borlase, an apothecary and
surgeon practising in Penzance, and at once marked out for himself a
course of study and self-tuition almost unparalleled in the annals of
biography, and to which he adhered with a strength of mind and tenacity
of purpose altogether unlooked for in one of his years and of his gay
and careless disposition. That it was sufficiently ambitious will be
evident from the following transcript from the opening pages of his
earliest note-book--a small quarto, with parchment covers, dated 1795:--
1. Theology,
or Religion, } { taught by Nature;
Ethics or Moral virtues } { by Revelation.
2. Geography.
3. My Profession.
1. Botany.
2. Pharmacy.
3. Nosology.
4. Anatomy.
5. Surgery.
6. Chemistry.
4. Logic.
5. Languages.
1. English.
2. French.
3. Latin.
4. Greek.
5. Italian.
6. Spanish.
7. Hebrew.
6. Physics.
1. The doctrines and properties of natural bodies.
2. Of the operations of nature.
3. Of the doctrines of fluids.
4. Of the properties of organised matter.
5. Of the organisation of matter.
6. Simple astronomy.
7. Mechanics.
8. Rhetoric and Oratory.
9. History and Chronology.
10. Mathematics.
The note-book opens with “Hints Towards the Investigation of Truth in
Religious and Political Opinions, composed as they occurred, to be
placed in a more regular manner hereafter.” Then follow essays “On the
Immortality and Immateriality of the Soul”; “Body, Organised Matter”;
on “Governments”; on “The Credulity of Mortals”; “An Essay to Prove
that the Thinking Powers depend on the Organisation of the Body”; “A
Defence of Materialism”; “An Essay on the Ultimate End of Being”; “On
Happiness”; “On Moral Obligation.”
These early essays display the workings of an original mind, intent,
it may be, on problems beyond its immature powers, but striving in
all sincerity to work out its own thoughts and to arrive at its own
conclusions. Of course, the daring youth of sixteen who enters upon an
inquiry into the most difficult problems of theology and metaphysics,
with, what he is pleased to call, unprejudiced reason as his sole
guide, quickly passes into a cold fit of materialism. His mind was
too impressionable, however, to have reached the stage of settled
convictions; and in the same note-book we subsequently find the heads
of a train of argument in favour of a rational religious belief founded
on immaterialism.
Metaphysical inquiries seem, indeed, to have occupied the greater
part of his time at this period; and his note-books show that he
made himself acquainted with the writings of Locke, Hartley, Bishop
Berkeley, Hume, Helvetius, Condorcet, and Reid, and that he had some
knowledge of the doctrines of Kant and the Transcendentalists.
That he thought for himself, and was not unduly swayed by authority,
is evident from the general tenour of his notes, and from the critical
remarks and comments by which they are accompanied. Some of these are
worth quoting:--
“Science or knowledge is the association of a number of ideas,
with some idea or term capable of recalling them to the mind in a
certain order.”
“By examining the phenomena of Nature, a certain similarity of
effects is discovered. The business of science is to discover
these effects, and to refer them to some common cause; that is to
generalise ideas.”
As his impulsive, ingenuous disposition led him, even to the last, to
speak freely of what was uppermost in his mind at the moment, we may be
sure that his elders, the Rev. Dr. Tonkin, his good friend John Tonkin,
and his grandmother Davy, with whom he was a great favourite, as he was
with most old people, must have been considerably exercised at times
with the metaphysical disquisitions to which they were treated; and we
can well imagine that their patience was occasionally as greatly tried
as that of the worthy member of the Society of Friends who wound up an
argument with the remark, “I tell thee what, Humphry, thou art the most
quibbling hand at a dispute I ever met with in my life.” Whether it was
in revenge for this sally that the young disputant composed the “Letter
on the Pretended Inspiration of the Quakers” which is to be found in
one of his early note-books, does not appear.
We easily trace in these early essays the evidences of that facility
and charm of expression which a few years later astonished and
delighted his audiences at the Royal Institution, and which remained
the characteristic features of his literary style. These qualities were
in no small degree strengthened by his frequent exercises in poetry.
For Davy had early tasted of the Pierian spring, and, like Pope, may
be said to have lisped in numbers. At five he was an _improvisatore_,
reciting his rhymes at some Christmas gambols, attired in a fanciful
dress prepared by a playful girl who was related to him. That he
had the divine gift was acknowledged by no less an authority than
Coleridge, who said that “if Davy had not been the first Chemist, he
would have been the first Poet of his age.” Southey also, who knew
him well, said after his death, “Davy was a most extraordinary man;
he would have excelled in any department of art or science to which
he had directed the powers of his mind. He had all the elements of a
poet; he only wanted the art. I have read some beautiful verses of his.
When I went to Portugal, I left Davy to revise and publish my poem of
‘Thalaba.’”
Throughout his life he was wont, when deeply moved, to express his
feelings in verse; and at times even his prose was so suffused with the
glow of poetry that to some it seemed altiloquent and inflated. Some of
his first efforts appeared in the “Annual Anthology,” a work printed
in Bristol in 1799, and edited by Southey and Tobin, and interesting
to the book-hunter as one of the first of the literary “Annuals” which
subsequently became so fashionable.
Davy had an intense love of Nature, and nothing stirred the poetic fire
within him more than the sight of some sublime natural object such as
a storm-beaten cliff, a mighty mountain, a resistless torrent, or some
spectacle which recalled the power and majesty of the sea. Not that he
was insensible to the simpler charms of pastoral beauty, or incapable
of sympathy with Nature in her softest, tenderest moods. But these
things never seemed to move him as did some scene of grandeur, or some
manifestation of stupendous natural energy.
The following lines, written on Fair Head during the summer of 1806,
may serve as an example of how scenery when associated in his mind with
the sentiments of dignity or strength affected him:--
“Majestic Cliff! Thou birth of unknown time,
Long had the billows beat thee, long the waves
Rush’d o’er thy hollow’d rocks, ere life adorn’d
Thy broken surface, ere the yellow moss
Had tinted thee, or the wild dews of heaven
Clothed thee with verdure, or the eagles made
Thy caves their aëry. So in after time
Long shalt thou rest unalter’d mid the wreck
Of all the mightiness of human works;
For not the lightning, nor the whirlwind’s force,
Nor all the waves of ocean, shall prevail
Against thy giant strength, and thou shalt stand
Till the Almighty voice which bade thee rise
Shall bid thee fall.”
In spite of a love-passage which seems to have provoked a succession
of sonnets, his devotions to Calliope were by no means so unremitting
as to prevent him from following the plan of study he had marked out
for himself. His note-books show that in the early part of 1796 he
attacked the mathematics, and with such ardour that in little more than
a year he had worked through a course of what he called “Mathematical
Rudiments,” in which he included “fractions, vulgar and decimal;
extraction of roots; algebra (as far as quadratic equations); Euclid’s
elements of geometry; trigonometry; logarithms; sines and tangents;
tables; application of algebra to geometry, etc.”
In 1797 he began the study of natural philosophy, and towards the
end of this year, when he was close on nineteen, he turned his
attention to chemistry, merely, however, at the outset as a branch of
his professional education, and with no other idea than to acquaint
himself with its general principles. His good fortune led him to select
Lavoisier’s “Elements”--probably Kerr’s translation, published in
1796--as his text-book. No choice could have been happier. The book
is well suited to a mind like Davy’s, and he could not fail to be
impressed by the boldness and comprehensiveness of its theory, its
admirable logic, and the clearness and precision of its statements.
From reading and speculation he soon passed to experiment. But at
this time he had never seen a chemical operation performed, and had
little or no acquaintance with even as much as the forms of chemical
apparatus. Phials, wine-glasses, tea-cups, and tobacco-pipes, with
an occasional earthen crucible, were all the paraphernalia he could
command; the common mineral acids, the alkalis, and a few drugs from
the surgery constituted his stock of chemicals. Of the nature of these
early trials we know little. It is, however, almost certain that the
experiments with sea-weed, described in his two essays “On Heat, Light
and the Combinations of Light” and “On the Generation of Phosoxygen
and the Causes of the Colours of Organic Beings” (see p. 30), were
made at this time, and it is highly probable that the experiments on
land-plants, which are directly related to those on the _Fuci_ and
are described in connection with them, were made at the same period.
That he pursued his experiments with characteristic ardour is borne
out by the testimony of members of his family, particularly by that of
his sister, who sometimes acted as his assistant, and whose dress too
frequently suffered from the corrosive action of his chemicals. The
good Mr. Tonkin and his worthy brother, the Reverend Doctor, were also
from time to time abruptly and unexpectedly made aware of his zeal.
“This boy Humphry is incorrigible! He will blow us all into the air!”
were occasional exclamations heard to follow the alarming noises which
now and then proceeded from the laboratory. The well-known anecdote
of the syringe which had formed part of a case of instruments of a
shipwrecked French surgeon, and which Davy had ingeniously converted
into an air-pump, although related by Dr. Paris “with a minuteness and
vivacity worthy of Defoe,” is, in all probability, apocryphal. Nor has
Lord Brougham’s story, that his devotion to chemical experiments and
“his dislike to the shop” resulted in a disagreement with his master,
and that “he went to another in the same place,” where “he continued in
the same course,” any surer foundation in fact.
Two or three circumstances conduced to develop Davy’s taste for
scientific pursuits, and to extend his opportunities for observation
and experiment. One was his acquaintance with Mr. Gregory Watt; another
was his introduction to Mr. Davies Gilbert (then Mr. Davies Giddy), a
Cornish gentleman of wealth and position, who lived to succeed him in
the presidential chair of the Royal Society.
Gregory Watt, the son of James Watt, the engineer, by his second
marriage, was a young man of singular promise who, had he lived,
would--if we may judge from his paper in the _Philosophical
Transactions_--have almost certainly acquired a distinguished position
in science. Of a weakly, consumptive habit, he was ordered to spend the
winter of 1797 in Penzance, where he lodged with Mrs. Davy, boarding
with the family. Young Watt was about two years older than Davy, and
had just left the University of Glasgow, “his mind enriched beyond
his age with science and literature, with a spirit above the little
vanities and distinctions of the world, devoted to the acquisition of
knowledge.” He remained in Penzance until the following spring, and by
his example, and by the generous friendship which he extended towards
him, he developed and strengthened Davy’s resolve to devote himself
to science. Davy’s introduction to Mr. Gilbert, “a man older than
himself, with considerable knowledge of science generally, and with
the advantages of a University education,” was also a most timely and
propitious circumstance. According to Dr. Paris--
“Mr. Gilbert’s attention was attracted to the future philosopher,
as he was carelessly swinging over the hatch, or half-gate, of
Mr. Borlase’s house, by the humorous contortions into which
he threw his features. Davy it may be remarked, when a boy,
possessed a countenance which even in its natural state was very
far from comely; while his round shoulders, inharmonious voice
and insignificant manner, were calculated to produce anything
rather than a favourable impression: in riper years, he was what
might be called ‘good-looking,’ although as a wit of the day
observed, his aspect was certainly of the ‘bucolic’ character.
The change which his person underwent, after his promotion to the
Royal Institution, was so rapid that in the days of Herodotus, it
would have been attributed to nothing less than the miraculous
interposition of the Priestesses of Helen. A person, who happened
to be walking with Mr. Gilbert upon the occasion alluded to,
observed that the extraordinary looking boy in question was young
Davy, the carver’s son, who, he added, was said to be fond of
making chemical experiments.”
Mr. Gilbert was thus led to interest himself in the boy, whom he
invited to his house at Tredrea, offering him the use of his library,
and such other assistance in his studies as he could render. On one
occasion he was taken over to the Hayle Copper-House, and had the
opportunity of seeing a well-appointed laboratory:
“The tumultuous delight which Davy expressed on seeing, for the
first time, a quantity of chemical apparatus, hitherto only
known to him through the medium of engravings, is described
by Mr. Gilbert as surpassing all description. The air-pump
more especially fixed his attention, and he worked its piston,
exhausted the receiver, and opened its valves, with the
simplicity and joy of a child engaged in the examination of a new
and favourite toy.”
It has already been stated that in the outset Davy attacked science as
he did metaphysics, approaching it from the purely theoretical side.
As might be surmised, his love of speculation quickly found exercise
for itself, and within four months of his introduction to the study of
science he had conceived and elaborated a new hypothesis on the nature
of heat and light, which he communicated to Dr. Beddoes.
Dr. Thomas Beddoes was by training a medical man, who in various ways
had striven to make a name for himself in science. He is known to the
chemical bibliographer as the translator of the Chemical Essays of
Scheele, and at one time occupied the Chair of Chemistry at Oxford. The
geological world at the end of the eighteenth century regarded him as a
zealous and uncompromising Plutonist. His character was thus described
by Davy, who in the last year of his life jotted down, in the form of
brief notes, his reminiscences of some of the more remarkable men of
his acquaintance:--
“Beddoes was reserved in manner and almost dry; but his
countenance was very agreeable. _He was cold_ in conversation,
and apparently much occupied with his own peculiar views and
theories. Nothing could be a stronger contrast to his apparent
coldness in discussion than his wild and active imagination,
which was as poetical as Darwin’s.... On his deathbed he wrote me
a most affecting letter, regretting his scientific aberrations.”
One of Dr. Beddoes’s “scientific aberrations” was the inception and
establishment of the Pneumatic Institution, which he founded with a
view of studying the medicinal effects of the different gases, in the
sanguine hope that powerful remedies might be found amongst them. The
Institution, which was supported wholly by subscription, was to be
provided with all the means likely to promote its objects--a hospital
for patients, a laboratory for experimental research, and a theatre for
lecturing.
In seeking for a person to take charge of the laboratory, Dr. Beddoes
bethought him of Davy, who had been recommended to him by Mr. Gilbert.
In a letter dated July 4th, 1798, Dr. Beddoes thus writes to Mr.
Gilbert:--
“I am glad that Mr. Davy has impressed you as he has me. I have
long wished to write to you about him, for I think I can open
a more fruitful field of investigation than any body else. Is
it not also his most direct road to fortune? Should he not
bring out a favourable result he may still exhibit talents for
investigation, and entitle himself to public confidence more
effectually than by any other mode. He must be maintained, but
the fund will not furnish a salary from which a man can lay up
anything. He must also devote his time for two or three years to
the investigation. I wish you would converse with him upon the
subject.... I am sorry I cannot at this moment specify a yearly
sum, nor can I say with certainty whether all the subscribers
will accede to my plan; most of them will, I doubt not. I have
written to the principal ones, and will lose no time in sounding
them all.”
A fortnight later, Dr. Beddoes again wrote to Mr. Gilbert:--
“I have received a letter from Mr. Davy since I wrote to you. He
has oftener than once mentioned a _genteel maintenance_, as a
preliminary to his being employed to superintend the Pneumatic
Hospital. I fear the funds will not allow an ample salary;
he must however be maintained. I can attach no idea to the
epithet _genteel_, but perhaps all difficulties would vanish in
conversation; at least I think your conversing with Mr. Davy
will be a more likely way of smoothing difficulties than our
correspondence. It appears to me, that this appointment will
bear to be considered as a part of Mr. Davy’s medical education,
and that it will be a great saving of expense to him. It may
also be the foundation of a lucrative reputation; and certainly
nothing on my part shall be wanting to secure to him the credit
he may deserve. He does not undertake to discover cures for
this or that disease; he may acquire just applause by bringing
out clear, though negative results. During my journeys into the
country I have picked up a variety of important and curious
facts from different practitioners. This has suggested to me the
idea of collecting and publishing such facts as this part of
the country will from time to time afford. If I could procure
chemical experiments that bore any relation to organised nature,
I would insert them. If Mr. Davy does not dislike this method
of publishing his experiments I would gladly place them at the
head of my first volume, but I wish not that he should make any
sacrifice of judgment or inclination.”
Thanks to Mr. Gilbert, the negotiation was brought to a successful
issue. Mrs. Davy yielded to her son’s wishes, and Mr. Borlase
surrendered his indenture, on the back of which he wrote that he
released him from “all engagements whatever on account of his excellent
behaviour”; adding, “because being a youth of great promise, I would
not obstruct his present pursuits, which are likely to promote his
fortune and his fame.” The only one of his friends who disapproved of
the scheme was his old benefactor, Mr. John Tonkin, who had hoped to
have established Davy in his native town as a surgeon. Mr. Tonkin was
so irritated at the failure of his plans that he altered his will, and
revoked the legacy of his house, which he had bequeathed to him.