DAVY AND THE ROYAL SOCIETY--HIS LAST DAYS.
Davy was elected into the Royal Society in 1803. His certificate
describes him as “a gentleman of very considerable scientific
knowledge, and author of a paper in the Philosophical Transactions.”
Two years afterwards--that is, in his twenty-seventh year--he was
awarded the Copley medal; from which we may infer either that the
Society considered their medal not to have the lustre it now possesses,
or that they had a confident belief in the power and coming greatness
of the recipient, since the papers for which it was given are perhaps
the least meritorious of Davy’s productions. His active interest in
the affairs of the Society led to his election--or rather selection,
for the appointment in those days was made by the President--as one of
the Secretaries, a position he held until 1812, when he resigned it at
the time of his marriage. In 1816 he received the Rumford medal of the
Society for his work in connection with flame and the safety lamp--an
award which would have given a peculiar satisfaction to Rumford had he
lived to witness it.
On the death of Sir Joseph Banks the general voice of the Fellows
seemed to designate Wollaston as his successor. It was, indeed, Sir
Joseph Banks’s desire that Dr. Wollaston should be nominated. “So
excellent a man,” he remarked to Barrow, “of such superior talents,
and everyway fitted for the situation. Davy is a lively and talented
man, and a thorough chemist; but ... he is rather too lively to fill
the chair of the Royal Society with that degree of gravity which
it is most becoming to assume.” Oh this gravity! “La gravité,” says
La Rochefoucauld, “est un mystère du corps, inventé pour cacher les
défauts de l’esprit.” And Sir Joseph had enough of it and to spare.
Wollaston--a man of wide knowledge, steady, cautious, and sure,--of
cool judgment and sagacious views, as Davy said of him--felt no
inclination to accept a position for which his retiring habits and
reticent disposition to some extent unfitted him, and he declined to be
put in nomination. Davy’s attitude is indicated in the following letter
to his friend Poole:--
“I feel that the President’s chair, after Sir Joseph, will
be no light matter; and unless there is a strong feeling in
the majority of the body that I am the most proper person, I
shall not sacrifice my tranquillity for what cannot add to my
reputation, though it may increase my power of being useful.
“I feel it a duty that I owe to the Society to offer myself;
but if they do not feel that they want me, (and the most active
members, I believe, do) I shall not force myself upon them.”
The “strong feeling in the majority” was shown on the day of election.
A few votes were given in favour of Lord Colchester, but Davy’s triumph
was practically complete.
He thus writes to Mr. Poole in answer to a letter of congratulation:--
“I have never needed any motive to attach me to science, which I
have pursued with equal ardour under all circumstances, for its
own sake, and for the sake of the public, uninfluenced by the
fears of my friends, or the calumnies of my enemies. I glory in
being in the chair of the Royal Society, because I think it ought
to be a reward of scientific labours, and not an appendage to
rank or fortune; and because it will enable me to be useful in a
higher degree in promoting the cause of science.”
Davy was re-elected to the Presidential Chair without opposition for
seven successive years--until, in short, his failing health compelled
him to resign. Although the Society owes much to him, he himself
derived little satisfaction or pleasure from the position. He soon
found, as he anticipated, that the President’s Chair, after Sir Joseph,
was no light matter; and there is little doubt that the worries and
cares of the office contributed to his untimely death. In bearing,
manner, temperament--in fact, in almost every particularity--he was
the very opposite to his predecessor; and when the discontent which
had slumbered, with an occasional awakening, during Sir Joseph’s long
reign, and which his firmness, tact, and the weight of his personal
character had for the time allayed, broke out, Davy was too impulsive
and irascible to deal with it as Banks had done, and matters which a
less sensitive or a more impassive man would have unheeded were causes
of annoyance and ill-temper to him, and served to add to the spirit of
disunion which prevailed. But if he occasionally lacked discretion,
he was never wanting in zeal. He laboured incessantly to add to the
dignity and usefulness of the Society. He strove in every way to
enhance the character of its publications and to raise the standard
of Fellowship. His great ambition was to bring the Society into more
intimate relation with the State.
“It was his wish,” says his brother, “to have seen the Royal
Society an efficient establishment for all the great practical
purposes of science, similar to the college contemplated by Lord
Bacon, and sketched in his New Atlantis; having subordinate to
it the Royal Observatory at Greenwich for astronomy; the British
Museum, for natural history, in its most extensive acceptation.”
Realising in his own case what such a laboratory as that of the Royal
Institution, supported wholly by private liberality, had done for
science, it was his desire that similar laboratories, amply provided
with all means requisite for original inquiry, should be maintained and
administered by the Society. But, as his brother adds, the Government,
although ready enough to consult him when in want of his knowledge or
of that of other Fellows of the Society, was lukewarm and indifferent
in matters of science, and he received no effectual support. It is true
that towards the end of his Presidency the Society received a mark of
Royal favour by the foundation of the Royal Medals in 1825, but from
various causes the medals were not actually forthcoming until 1833,
when the Duke of Sussex was in the Chair, although no fewer than ten
awards had been made in the meantime. In his attention to the personal
duties of his office Davy was unremitting. His addresses were a feature
of the session; in these he displayed all the ardour, eloquence
and poetical fervour, and, it may be added, all the egoism, which
characterised his lectures. He delighted to dwell upon the power and
dignity of science, its worth as a mental instrument, and its value to
the national life. In his announcements of the awards of the Society’s
medals the range of his knowledge, his power of exposition, and his
faculty of felicitous expression found ample opportunity for exercise.
He was the first President to introduce obituary notices of Fellows,
and his _éloges_ are marked by judgment, taste, and warmth of feeling.
In everything that related to the dignity and ceremony of his office he
was, as might have been expected, most punctilious. Although as a rule
somewhat careless in dress, he invariably took the chair in full Court
dress, sitting covered, and with the mace of office--the veritable
“bauble” which Cromwell ordered to be removed from the table of the
House of the Commons--in front of him, as is still the custom.
To enhance his dignity we are told that he petitioned Government for
the Red Ribbon of his predecessor, and it was said that he felt so
certain his request would be granted that his name was printed with the
coveted letters K.B. appended.
During the session he followed the practice of Sir Joseph Banks in
assembling the Fellows at a weekly conversazione at his house in
Lower Grosvenor Street. Subsequently, on his removal to Park Street,
these meetings were held in the apartments of the Society at Somerset
House. Davy’s vivacity and conversational powers made the gatherings
in the outset a great success, but when the tide of his unpopularity
as President set in, the attendance fell off, and they were eventually
discontinued.
During the autumn preceding his first election he spent some time with
Scott at Abbotsford, in company with Wollaston and Mackenzie (the
Man of Feeling), and Lockhart gives some account of him as the party
started on a sporting expedition on a September morning.
“But the most picturesque figure was the illustrious inventor
of the safety lamp. He had come for his favourite sport of
angling ... and his fisherman’s costume--a brown hat with
flexible brims, surrounded with line upon line, and innumerable
fly-hooks; jack-boots worthy of a Dutch smuggler, and a fustian
surtout dabbled with the blood of salmon--made a fine contrast
to the smart jackets, white-cord breeches, and well polished
jockey-boots of the less distinguished cavaliers about him. Dr.
Wollaston was in black, and with his noble serene dignity of
countenance might have passed for a sporting archbishop.... I
have seen Sir Humphry in many places, and in company of many
different descriptions; but never to such advantage as at
Abbotsford. His host and he delighted in each other, and the
modesty of their mutual admiration was a memorable spectacle.
Davy was by nature a poet--and Scott, though anything but a
philosopher in the modern sense of that term, might, I think it
very likely, have pursued the study of physical science with zeal
and success, had he happened to fall in with such an instructor
as Sir Humphry would have been to him, in his early life. Each
strove to make the other talk--and they did so in turn more
charmingly than I have ever heard either on any other occasion
whatsoever. Scott in his romantic narratives touched a deeper
cord of feeling than usual, when he had such a listener as Davy;
and Davy, when induced to open his views upon any question of
scientific interest in Scott’s presence, did so with a degree
of clear energetic eloquence, and with a flow of imagery and
illustration, of which neither his habitual tone of table-talk
(least of all in London), nor any of his prose writings (except,
indeed, the posthumous Consolations in Travel) could suggest an
adequate notion. I say his prose writings--for who that has read
his sublime quatrains on the doctrine of Spinoza can doubt that
he might have united, if he had pleased, in some great didactic
poem, the vigorous ratiocination of Dryden and the moral majesty
of Wordsworth? I remember William Laidlaw whispering to me, one
night, when their ‘wrapt talk’ had kept the circle round the fire
until long after the usual bed-time of Abbotsford--‘Gude preserve
us! This is a very superior occasion! Eh, sirs!’ he added,
cocking his eye like a bird, ‘I wonder if Shakspeare and Bacon
ever met to screw ilk other up?’”
In spite of the many calls upon his time and energies entailed by
his duties as President, he still found opportunity to work in his
laboratory, and one outcome of his labours was a paper “On the magnetic
phenomena produced by electricity,” published in the _Philosophical
Transactions_ for 1821--the sequel of a letter addressed to Wollaston
and also printed in the Transactions. This memoir was followed a few
months later by a communication “On the Electrical phenomena exhibited
_in vacuo_.”
These papers, together with one on a New Phenomenon of
Electro-Magnetism, published in 1823, are interesting in relation to
the development of Oersted’s great discovery, and in connection with
the subsequent work of Faraday.
With that power of generalisation which is one of the distinguishing
marks of his genius, he shows the possible connection of the facts he
had observed with the phenomena of terrestrial magnetism. He concludes
his first paper by asking
“whether the magnetism of the earth may not be owing to its
electricity, and the variation of the needle to the alterations
in the electrical currents of the earth, in consequence of its
motions, internal changes, or its relations to solar heat; and
whether the luminous effects of the auroras at the poles are not
shown, by these new facts, to depend on electricity. This is
evident, that if strong electrical currents be supposed to follow
the apparent course of the sun, the magnetism of the earth ought
to be such as it is found to be.”
It is perhaps idle to speculate on such a matter, but it is more than
likely that had Davy been free from the cares and restraints of office,
and from the innumerable distractions inseparable from his position in
the social and scientific world of London, he might have revealed the
possibilities in electro-magnetism with the same brilliant success as
he had done those of voltaic electricity. He was now at the maturity
of his mental power, and had still much of the enthusiasm and ardour
which characterised his earliest work, and under serener conditions
he might have achieved triumphs not less striking than those reserved
for Faraday. His few short papers on the subject indicate that he
fully realised the great wealth of the new territory thus opened out
to science, and into which he was one of the first to penetrate. But
it is sad to think that he might have extended a more generous hand to
one who, equally with himself, was striving to enter the new land, and
who eventually did enter and for a time possessed it. In the concluding
words of Davy’s last paper on electro-magnetism, we discern in the
allusion to Wollaston’s idea of the possibility of the rotation of the
electro-magnetic wire round its axis “the rift within the lute” in his
relations towards his assistant, which widened in the matter of the
condensation of chlorine, and which threatened to become an open breach
when Faraday was elected into the Royal Society.
The jealousy thus manifested by Davy is one of the most pitiful facts
in his history. It was a sign of that moral weakness which was at
the bottom of much of his unpopularity, and which revealed itself in
various ways as his physical strength decayed.
Greedy as he was of fame--that infirmity of noble minds--many incidents
in his life up to this period prove that he was not wanting on occasion
in a generous appreciation of the work of his contemporaries, even
in fields he might reasonably claim as his own. But, although in
his intellectual combats he could show at times a certain knightly
courtesy, it must be confessed that he was lacking in the magnanimity
which springs from the charity that envieth not.
In genius he was unquestionably superior to Faraday; in true nobility
of character he was far below him. It is almost impossible to avoid
comparing him with Faraday. Indeed it is one of the penalties of his
position that he has to be tried by so severe a standard, and it
may well be that his good name, which, as Bacon says, is the proper
inheritance of the deceased, has suffered unduly in consequence. His
true place in the history of science is defined by his discoveries;
it is a sad reflection that the lustre of his fame has been dimmed
rather than heightened by what has been styled the greatest of them
all--Faraday. But there has undoubtedly been injustice in the
comparisons which have been made. What Davy was to Faraday, Faraday
would have been the first to admit. Davy made himself what he was by
the sheer force of his unaided genius; what Faraday became was in large
measure due to his connection with Davy, and the germs of his greatest
works are to be traced to this association. This fact has been frankly
acknowledged by Faraday. To the end of his days he regarded Davy as his
true master, preserving to the last, in spite of his knowledge of the
moral frailties of Davy’s nature, the respect and even reverence which
is to be seen in his early lecture notes and in his letters to his
friend Abbott. Faraday was not easily roused to anger, but nothing so
effectually moved him as any aspersion of Davy’s character as a man of
science, or any insinuation of ungenerous treatment of himself by Davy.
At about this time--that is, in the autumn of 1823--Davy gave the first
signs of the obscure malady which ultimately occasioned his death. In
a letter to his brother, in which he describes his symptoms, we have a
reference, also, to his domestic worries: “To add to my annoyances, I
find my house, as usual, after the arrangements made by the mistress of
it, without female servants; but in this world we have to suffer and
bear, and from Socrates down to humble mortals, domestic discomfort
seems a sort of philosophical fate.”
He was able, however, to continue his scientific work, but instead of
the fame and applause on which he so confidently counted, he found only
disappointment and chagrin.
In 1823 the Admiralty sought the advice of the Royal Society as to
“the best means of securing to the service copper of the most durable
quality, and such as will preserve the smoothest surface.” A committee
of the Society was appointed, under Davy’s direction, to consider the
question, which ultimately resolved itself into one of preventing
the corrosion of the metal. In this matter Davy’s special experience
proved most useful, and, as a fact, he took all the experimental part
of the inquiry upon himself, and with what result may be seen from the
following letter to his brother:--
“Firle, Jan'y 30, 1824.
“I have lately made a discovery of which you will for many
reasons be glad. I have found a complete method of preserving the
copper sheeting of ships, which now readily corrodes. It is by
rendering it negatively electrical. My results are of the most
beautiful and unequivocal kind: a mass of tin renders a surface
of copper 200 or 300 times its own size sufficiently electrical
to have no action on sea water.
“I was led to this discovery by principle, as you will easily
imagine; and the saving to government and the country by it
will be immense. I am going to apply it immediately to the
navy. I might have made an immense fortune by a patent for this
discovery, but I have given it to my country; for in everything
connected with interest, I am resolved to live and die at least
‘_sans tâche_.’”
His method of rendering the copper negatively electric consisted in
affixing to the sheets a number of short bars of iron or zinc, properly
curved to the shape of the vessel. In this way the “protectors,” as the
zinc or iron bars were called, gradually corroded, whilst the copper
remained unattacked. But, as Dr. Paris remarks, the truth of the theory
was completely established by the failure of the remedy. The ship’s
bottom became so foul by the adhesion of shells and weed that her speed
was greatly impeded, and after a number of trials, in the course of
which a steam vessel was placed at his disposal, in which he made a
voyage to Norway and back, the Admiralty directed the protectors to be
removed. To add to his mortification, the order was issued immediately
after a communication to the Royal Society announcing the complete
success of his plan. Throughout the whole of this business he was
exposed to a number of vexatious attacks, which greatly embittered him
and reacted disastrously upon his health and character. So long as
there was the hope of success and the prospect of reward his claims
to the originality of the invention were contested: no sooner was the
project abandoned than he was assailed in the periodical press and made
an object of sarcasm and censure. As might be imagined, his philosophy
was not proof against such attacks. He wrote to his friend Children--
“A mind of much sensibility might be disgusted, and one might be
induced to say why should I labour for public objects, merely to
meet abuse?--I am irritated by them more than I ought to be; but
I am getting wiser every day--recollecting Galileo, and the times
when philosophers and public benefactors were burnt for their
services.”
During the autumn his indisposition increased, and his home letters
show that the wonderful elasticity of spirit, which, as his brother
remarks, had hitherto carried him lightly and joyously through life,
over all its rubs and cares, now seemed to flag. He had an ailing
winter, and with the spring came news of his mother’s illness. He could
only write with difficulty:--“If it please God, I will certainly be at
Penzance the last week in October or the first in November.” He never
saw her again; she rallied for a time, but died somewhat suddenly in
September. Davy never really recovered from the shock of her death. It
was with the greatest difficulty that he was able to preside at the
anniversary meeting of the Society on the ensuing St. Andrew’s Day. The
effort was so marked that those near him feared he was on the verge of
apoplexy, and he was too ill to attend the dinner. A few weeks later he
had a slight attack of paralysis, from which he only slowly recovered.
His good friend Dr. Babington[J] ordered him abroad, away from “the
convivial epicurean habits of London society,” and from “the many
annoyances and causes of injurious excitement to which he was exposed
at home.” He set out with his brother John, in the depth of winter--“a
dreary beginning of a dreary journey.” He avoided Paris; he would not
even pass through it, so apprehensive was he that he should not escape
from “the allurement--or, rather, excitement--of its society” if he
stopped there. The roads were in a wretched state, the country covered
with snow, and “no object to arrest the eye, except a village here and
there rising out of the white waste, or a distant steeple, or some
solitary tree.” The cold was intense, and once or twice the travellers
were benighted, the wheels of their carriage being locked in the frozen
ruts. As they passed through the towns Davy, who seemed to cling to
life with a passionate tenacity, would visit the churches, and, falling
on his knees, would offer up a silent prayer. They crossed Mont Cenis
in a storm of wind and amidst drifting snow, and with great difficulty
got down to Susa on sledges. The snow in Lombardy was deeper than in
the passes of the Alps, and even at Ravenna, where they arrived in the
first week of March, it was still to be seen in the ditches. Here his
brother left him, his duties as an army surgeon calling him to Corfu.
In spite of severe weather, the discomforts of travelling at such a
time, and the forced delays at wretched inns, Davy gradually improved;
his brother noted before he left that he was certainly stronger, less
paralytic, and more active. He wrote to his friend Poole:--
[J] “Babington, the best and warmest-hearted friend, the
kindest husband and father, and perhaps the most
disinterested physician of his time; with good talents, and
a fine tact, and a benevolence which created sympathy for
him wherever he appeared, and I believe often cured his
patients.”
“I am, thank God, better, but still very weak, and wholly unfit
for any kind of business and study. I have, however, considerably
recovered the use of all the limbs that were affected; and as my
amendment has been slow and gradual, I hope in time it may be
complete. But I am leading the life of an anchorite, obliged to
abstain from flesh, wine, business, study, experiments, and all
things that I love; but this discipline is salutary, and for the
sake of being able to do something more for science, and I hope
for humanity, I submit to it, believing that the Great Source of
intellectual being so wills it for good.”
He tells Poole that he had chosen Ravenna--this spot of the declining
Empire of Rome--as one of solitude and repose, and as out of the way of
travellers and in a good climate. He was interested, too, in its many
associations with his friend Byron, with Dante, and in its old-world
memories of Theodoric and his lost legions. How the place affected him
in his state of physical enfeeblement, but with his mind chastened and
purified, may be seen in the character of much that he wrote there, and
particularly in his poems, with their many notes of sadness and hope,
trust and resignation. He was lodged in the Apostolical Palace by the
kindness of the Vice-Legate--a graceful, learned, and accomplished man,
with whom he contracted a warm friendship. He says he could not speak
of his goodness without tears of gratitude in his eyes, and with this
exception and an occasional visit from the Countess Guiccioli he had
no society. Most of his time was spent in riding amidst the pines and
junipers, or following the petzardone among the marshes of La Classe;
or in reading and in the study of natural history.
“The natural strength of his mind,” says his brother, “was very
clearly manifested under these circumstances. Dependent entirely
on his own resources; no friend to converse with; no one with
him to rely on for aid, and in a foreign country, without even
a medical adviser; destitute of all the amusements of society;
without any of the comforts of home--month after month, he kept
on his course, wandering from river to river, from one mountain
lake and valley to another, in search of favourable climate;
amusing himself with his gun and rod, when sufficiently strong to
use them, with ‘_speranza_’ for his rallying word.”
With the approach of spring he passed by way of Gorizia into Illyria,
and, as the heat increased, into Upper Austria, Bavaria, and
Switzerland, and back, in the late summer, to Illyria. His journals
give a fairly full account of his movements and of the manner in
which he spent his time; they also indicate his state of mind, the
alternations of hope and despondency, and his constant struggles with
the insidious disease which was gradually exhausting his physical
powers.
He wrote to his wife from Laybach:--
“You once _talked_ of passing _this_ winter in Italy; but I
hope your plans will be entirely guided by the state of your
health and feelings. Your society would undoubtedly be a very
great resource to me, but I am so well aware of my own present
unfitness for society, that I would not have you risk the chance
of an uncomfortable moment on my account. I often read Lord
Byron’s _Euthanasia_: it is the only case, probably, where my
feelings perfectly coincide with what his were.”
At times the feeling of despair was so intense that he actually seemed
apprehensive of suicide. It was probably under the influence of such
a fear that he wrote in his journal that he had too strong a faith
in the optimism of the system of the universe ever to accelerate his
dissolution.
“I have been and am taking a care of my health which I fear it is
not worth; but which, hoping it may please Providence to preserve
me for wise purposes, I think it my _duty_.”
On another occasion he wrote to Lady Davy:--
“I am glad to hear of your perfect re-establishment, and with
health and the society of London, which you are so well fitted to
ornament and enjoy, your ‘_viva la felicità_’ is much more secure
than any hope belonging to me.”
Subsequently he wrote:--
“Should your feelings or inclination lead you _to the land of the
sun_, I need not say what real pleasure it would give me to enjoy
your society; but do not make any sacrifice on my account.”
A couple of days afterwards he wrote:--
“I hope I shall have the delight of seeing you at Baden Baden. If
not, I shall come to England.... Pray let my physicians know what
an obedient patient I am.... God bless you, my dear Jane!”
Towards the end of September, and at Baden, the solitary man wrote:--
“I fear my light of life is burnt out, and that there remains
nothing but stink, and smoke and dying snuff.... _Dubito
fortissime restaurationem meum._--Decidedly worse and have
decided to go home immediately.”
At Mayence he informed his wife that he trusted soon to see her in Park
Street. He had a lingering hope that she might still be induced to
cross the water, and that he might meet her at Calais.
“I think you will find me altered in many things--with a heart
still alive to value and reply to kindness, and a disposition to
recur to the brighter moments of my existence of fifteen years
ago, and with a feeling that though a burnt-out flame can never
be rekindled, a smothered one may be.... I hope it is a good omen
that my paper by accident is _couleur de rose_.”
He had previously determined to resign the chair of the Royal Society,
and announced his decision in a letter to his old friend Davies
Gilbert, the treasurer. To his wife he wrote:--
“If I had perfectly recovered I know not what I should have
done with respect to the P. under the auspices of a new and
more enlightened government; but my state of health renders the
resignation _absolutely_ necessary. To attempt business this year
would be to prepare for another attack.”
He is pleased with the idea that Sir Robert Peel, who had “no
scientific glory to awaken jealousy,” may be his successor; and he
resumes:--
“The prosperity of the Royal Society will always be very dear
to me, and there is no period of my life to which I look back
with more real satisfaction than the six years of labour for
the interests of that body. I never _was_, and never could be,
unpopular with the active and leading members, as six unanimous
elections proved; but because I did not choose the Society to be
a tool of Mr. ----’s journal jobs, and resisted the admission of
improper members, I had some enemies, who were listened to and
encouraged from Lady ----’s chair. I shall not name them, but as
Lord Byron has said ‘my curse shall be forgiveness.’”
He arrived in London in the first week in October, and towards the end
of the month he wrote to his friend Poole that he had consulted all the
celebrated men who had written upon or studied the nervous system.
“They all have a good opinion of my case, and they all order
absolute repose for at least twelve months longer, and will not
allow me to resume my scientific duties or labours at present;
and they insist upon my leaving London for the next three or four
months and advise a residence in the West of England.”
Poole promptly asked him down to Nether Stowey. His friend relates
that although his bodily infirmity was very great and his sensibility
painfully acute--(“Here I am, the ruin of what I was!” he exclaimed
on his arrival)--his mind still showed much of its wonted ardour
and vigour. He spent his mornings in literary work, mainly on his
“Salmonia; or, Days of Fly-fishing,” a philosophical disquisition on
angling, published in 1828, and which, despite the rollicking banter of
Christopher North, passed through five or six editions. Davy had the
ambition to do for fly-fishing what Walton had done for the humbler
art of bottom-fishing. But Davy’s book, although constructed on much
the same lines as “The Compleat Angler,” lacks every feature which has
made honest Izaak’s work immortal--the quaint simplicity, the homely
wit, the delicate humour, the delightful charm--the reflection, in a
word, of the mental features of a lovable man blessed with the ornament
of a meek and quiet spirit. The egotism and garrulity of Piscator
are delicious; the loquacity and self-confidence of Davy’s Halieus
are tiresome to the last degree. We are bored with his long didactic
speeches, his consciousness of superiority, and his cheap and tawdry
sentiment. It was a poor return for all the kindness and skill of
Babington, that his patient should have seen in such a creation the
character of one of the most charming and estimable of men.
More than one mention has been made in this biography of what Maria
Edgeworth termed Davy’s “little madness.” Indeed, the love of angling
amounted to a passion with him; and he told Ticknor that he thought
if he were obliged to renounce either fishing or philosophy he should
find the struggle of his choice pretty severe. Whenever he could escape
from town he would hie him to some favourite stream and spend the
day in the practice of his beloved art. He was known to have posted
a couple of hundred miles for the sake of a day’s fishing, and to
have returned contented, although he had never a rise. When confined
to Albemarle Street, and chafing at his inability to get away, he
would sometimes turn over the leaves of his fly-book and derive much
consolation from the sight of his hackles and harles, his green-tails,
dun cuts, red spinners, and all the rest of the deadly paraphernalia
associated in his mind with the memories of pleasant days and exciting
combats. He greatly prided himself on his skill, and his friends were
often secretly amused to notice his ill-concealed chagrin when a
brother-angler outvied him in the day’s catch or in the narration of
some piscatorial triumph. They were amused, too, at the costume which
he was wont to don on such occasions--his broad-brimmed, low-crowned
hat, lined with green and garnished with flies; his grey-green jacket,
with a multitude of pockets for the various articles of his angling
gear; his wading-boots and knee-caps--all made up an attire as original
as it was picturesque. In these fishing expeditions he enjoyed some of
the happiest hours of his life; at such times he threw off his cares
and annoyances; he was cheerful even to hilarity, and never was his
conversation more sprightly or more entertaining.
In spite of the thoughtful care of his friend Poole, Davy’s health
showed no material improvement, and at times his feeling of despondency
was very great. His confidence in his mental powers, however, never
forsook him. He said on one occasion:--
“I do not wish to live, as far as I am personally concerned; but
I have views which I could develope, if it please God to save my
life, which would be useful to science and to mankind.”
* * * * *
“His inherent love of the laboratory (if I may so speak),” says
Mr. Poole, “was manifested in a manner which much interested
me at the moment. On his visiting with me a gentleman in this
neighbourhood who had offered to let him his house, and who has
an extensive philosophical apparatus, particularly complete in
electricity and chemistry, he was fatigued by the journey; and as
we were walking round the house very languidly, a door opened,
and we were in the laboratory. He threw his eyes round the room,
which brightened in the action--a glow came over his countenance,
and he appeared himself twenty years ago. He was surprised and
delighted and seemed to say, ‘This is the beloved theatre of my
glory.’ I said ‘You are pleased.’ He shook his head and smiled.”
In the spring he determined to quit England for his beloved Illyria,
and towards the end of May arrived by easy stages at Wurzen. In his
journal he wrote:--
“May 22. To my old haunt, Wurzen, which is sublime in the majesty
of Alpine grandeur; the snowy peaks of the Noric Alps rising
above thunder clouds, whilst spring in all its bloom and beauty
blooms below; its buds and blossoms adorning the face of Nature
under a frowning canopy of dark clouds, like some Judith beauty
of Italy--a Transteverene brow and eye, and a mouth of Venus and
the Graces.”
From Aussee he wrote to his brother:--
“It suits me better to wile away my days in this solitary state
of existence, in the contemplation of Nature, than to attempt to
enter into London society, where recollections call up the idea
of what I was, and the want of bodily power teaches me what a
shadow I am.... I am now going to Ischl, where there are warm
salt baths to try if they will renovate the muscular powers of my
arm and leg.... I wish to go to Trieste in October, to make the
experiments I have long projected on the torpedo.”
He derived some little benefit from the treatment at Ischl, and in
October went to Trieste, where he carried out his projected experiments
on the electricity of the torpedo, the results of which he communicated
to the Royal Society. This paper was the last of his scientific
memoirs. In the middle of November he arrived at Rome, where he learnt
that Wollaston also had been stricken with paralysis.[K] On February
6th, 1829, he wrote to Poole:--
[K] He died on December 22nd, 1828.
“I am here _wearing away_ the winter,--a ruin amongst ruins!
... I hope you got a copy of my little trifle ‘Salmonia.’... I
write and philosophise a good deal, and have nearly finished a
work with a higher aim than the little book I speak of above,
which I shall dedicate to you. It contains the essence of my
philosophical opinions, and some of my poetical reveries. It is
like the ‘Salmonia,’ an amusement of my sickness; but ‘_paulo
majora canamus_.’ I sometimes think of the lines of Waller, and
seem to feel their truth--
‘The soul’s dark cottage, batter’d and decay’d,
Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made.’”
The work to which he here alludes, and which he did not live to see
printed, was his “Consolations in Travel; or, The Last Days of a
Philosopher.” He had practically finished it at the date of his letter,
and had written in his journal: “Si moro, spero che ho fatto il mio
dovere, e che mia vita, non e stato vano ed inutile.” On February
20th he was seized with a new attack, and his right side was quite
powerless. On the 23rd he dictated the following letter to his brother,
who was then at Malta:--
“Notwithstanding all my care and discipline, and ascetic living,
I am dying from a severe attack of palsy, which has seized the
whole of the body with the exception of the intellectual organ
... the weakness increases and a few hours or days will finish
my mortal existence. I shall leave my bones in the Eternal City.
I bless God that I have been able to finish all my philosophical
labours.... I hope you will have the goodness to see these works
published.... I have given you, by a codicil to my will, the
copyright of these books.... God bless you, my dear John! May you
be happy and prosperous!”
The letter was signed by him, and he added in his own handwriting, only
just legible, “Come as quickly as possible.”
Two days afterwards he dictated another letter, in which he gives
minute directions concerning some experiments on the torpedo which he
wished his brother to make. He describes the apparatus which may be
employed and indicates where the torpedoes may be procured, and he
concludes: “Pray do not neglect this subject, which I leave to you as
another legacy.” It was the 16th of March before Dr. Davy could reach
Rome. The stricken man’s pale and emaciated countenance lighted up
as he saw his brother at his bedside. He spoke as if he had only a
few hours to live, and rejected all expectation and hope of recovery,
saying he was sure his career was run.
Under the care and medical skill of Dr. Davy, however, he rallied.
“As he mended,” says his brother, “the sentiment of gratitude
to Divine Providence was overflowing, and he was most amiable
and affectionate in manner. He often inculcated the propriety,
in regard to happiness, of the subjugation of self, in all
selfishness, as the very bane of comfort, and the most active
cause of the dereliction of social duties, and the destruction
of good and friendly feelings; and he expressed frequently the
intention, if his life were spared, of devoting it to purposes of
utility (seeming to think lightly of what he had already done),
and to the service of his friends, rather than to the pursuits
of ambition, pleasure, or happiness, with himself for their main
object.”
But, Dr. Davy adds:--
“Now that he was intent on recovery, he no longer took the same
interest in _my_ examination of the torpedo, as if he looked
forward to the time when _he_ should be able to enter into the
investigation actively again.”
At the beginning of April Lady Davy arrived from England, and he
had so far improved that it was decided to remove him to Geneva.
By easy stages, and occasional halts of two or three days at the
more interesting places, he arrived at Geneva on May 28th. He bore
the journey well: the delightful freshness of the spring, the
bursting vegetation, the many streams, the pure mountain air, and the
indescribable influence of Alpine scenery, seemed to invigorate him.
On his arrival at the inn (“La Couronne”) he walked to the window,
looked out upon the lake, and expressed a longing wish to throw a fly
upon its blue waters. Lady Davy here broke to him the news of the
death of his old friend and colleague, Thomas Young. This, coming so
soon after the loss of Wollaston, profoundly affected him. During the
evening he struck his elbow against the projecting arm of the sofa on
which he sat; the blow gave him great pain, and seemed to have the most
extraordinary effect. He was got to bed as soon as possible. He took an
anodyne, and desired to be left alone. Soon after midnight he was found
to be insensible, and shortly before three on the morning of the 29th
of May he died. In his will he had enjoined that he should be buried
where he died: _Natura curat suas reliquias_, he had written.
The City gave him a public funeral, and representatives of every
institution in the town followed his remains to their resting-place in
the cemetery at Plain-Palais. A simple monument, with the following
inscription, marks the spot:--
HIC JACET
HUMPHRY DAVY
EQUES MAGNÆ BRITANNIÆ BARONETUS
OLIM REGIÆ SOCIET. LONDIN. PRÆSES
SUMMUS ARCANORUM NATURÆ INDIGATOR.
NATUS PENZANTIÆ CORNUBIENSUM XVII DECEMB. MDCCLXXVIII.
OBIIT GENEVÆ HELVETIORUM XXIX MAI MDCCCXXIX.
His widow placed a tablet to his memory in the north transept of
Westminster Abbey. His baronetcy died with him. By his will he directed
that the service of plate given to him by the coal-owners should, after
Lady Davy’s death, pass to his brother, and that in the event of his
having no heirs in a position to make use of it, it should be melted
and given to the Royal Society, “to found a medal to be given annually
for the most important discovery in chemistry anywhere made in Europe
or Anglo-America.” This is the origin of the Davy Medal which has been
awarded annually by the Society since 1877.
Many eloquent tributes have been paid to the genius and labours of
Davy, and some of these eulogies are among the most brilliant passages
in the literature of science. One of the best-known is from the gifted
pen of Dr. Henry in the preface to his “Elements of Chemistry,”
published soon after Davy’s death. He thus sketches the more striking
characteristics of the great chemist.
“Davy,” he says, “was imbued with the spirit, and was a master of
the practice, of the inductive logic; and he has left us some of
the noblest examples of the efficacy of that great instrument of
human reason in the discovery of truth. He applied it not only to
connect classes of facts of more limited extent and importance
but to develope great and comprehensive laws, which embrace
phenomena that are almost universal to the natural world. In
explaining these laws, he cast upon them the illuminations of his
own clear and vivid conceptions;--he felt an intense admiration
of the beauty, order and harmony which are conspicuous in the
perfect chemistry of Nature;--and he expressed these feelings
with a force of eloquence which could issue only from a mind of
the highest powers and of the finest sensibilities.”
Not less forcible or eloquent, although hardly so well known, is the
estimate in Silliman’s _American Journal of Science and Arts_ for
January, 1830. After an analysis, of Davy’s mental attributes the
writer concludes:--
“We look upon Sir Humphry Davy as having afforded a striking
example of what the Romans called _a man of good fortune_;--whose
success, even in their view, was not however the result of
accident, but of ingenuity and wisdom to devise plans, and of
skill and industry to bring them to a successful issue. He
was fortunate in his theories, fortunate in his discoveries,
and fortunate in living in an age sufficiently enlightened to
appreciate his merits;--unlike, in this last particular, to
Newton, who (says Voltaire), although he lived forty years
after the publication of the _Principia_, had not, at the time
of his death, twenty readers out of Britain. Some might even
entertain the apprehension that so extensive a popularity among
his contemporaries is the presage of a short-lived fame; but his
reputation is too intimately associated with the eternal laws
of Nature to suffer decay; and the name of Davy, like those of
Archimedes, Galileo and Newton, which grow greener by time, will
descend to the latest posterity.”
Such, then, is the story of a life of fruitful endeavour and splendid
achievement;--the record of one who, if not wholly good or truly noble,
has left a track of greatness in his passage through the world.
INDEX.
Address from Whitehaven colliers to Davy, 203
Agriculture, Davy’s lectures on, 94 _et seq._; 165
Alkali metals, Isolation of, 114, 116;
their properties, 118
Alkaline earths, Decomposition of, 126
Ammonia: Davy’s conjectures as to its nature, 121
Ammonium amalgam: Davy’s views as to its nature, 127
Ammonium nitrate, Modes of decomposition of, 43
“Annual Anthology, The,” 18, 57
Apreece, Mrs., 159, 162
Babington, Dr., his character, 224
Bakerian lecture, Origin of, 100
Banks, Sir Joseph, his opinion of the Royal Institution, 80;
his account of Davy’s courtship, 162;
his opinion of Davy, 213;
death of, 212
Beddoes, Mrs., 28
----, Thomas, 23;
letters to Davies Gilbert, 24, 25;
engages Davy as chemist to the Pneumatic Institution, 25;
his testimony to Davy’s originality, 32;
his end, 65
Bernard, Thomas, 66, 67, 80
Berthollet, Davy’s account of, 179;
his theory of the nature of chlorine, 136, 144
Berzelius, Jakob, 94, 109, 143, 154
Bonaparte’s medal for discoveries in galvanism awarded to Davy, 109
Borlase, Bingham, 15, 25
Boron, Isolation of, 129
Brande, William Thomas, succeeds Davy as Professor of Chemistry in
the Royal Institution, 176
Brownrigg, Lady, her account of Davy, 111
Buddle, John, 194, 195, 201, 204, 209;
letter to Davy, 201
Cardew, Dr., Master of Truro Grammar School, his opinion of Davy as
a boy, 12
Chlorine, Discovery of, by Scheele, 136;
its nature, 134 _et seq._;
controversy as to its nature, 143;
its bleaching power explained, 149;
its liquefaction by Northmore, 149;
by Faraday, 149
---- compounds, Davy’s nomenclature of, 149
Chlorophosphamide, 138
Coal-owners’ Testimonial to Davy, 205, 208
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, his opinion of Davy, 18, 55, 57, 88;
letters to Davy, 57, 58, 59;
letter to Purkis, 88
Colouring matters of the Ancients, Investigation of, by Davy, 185, 187
“Consolations in Travel,” 232
Copley medal awarded to Davy, 213
Coryton, Mr., Master of Penzance Grammar School, his methods of
tuition, 12, 13, 53
Cottle, Amos, his account of Davy, 55
Cuvier, Davy’s account of, 178
Davy: His birth, 9;
becomes chemist to the Pneumatic Institution, 25;
goes to the Royal Institution, 63;
his views on the Atomic Theory, 146, 147;
marriage, 163;
is knighted, 164;
is elected a member of the Institute, 179;
is created a baronet, 211;
his illness, 221, 224;
death, 234;
burial, 234;
his character, 235, 236;
as an angler, 158, 159, 229;
as a lecturer, 71, 73 _et seq._, 84, 86;
as a man of society, 87, 115;
as a poet, 17, 18, 19, 125, 179
Davy’s letters: To Mrs. Apreece, 159, 160, 161;
to Mr. Children, 168, 223;
to Lady Davy, 226, 227, 228;
to Dr. John Davy, 163, 165, 183, 222, 231, 232;
to Faraday, 174;
to Mr. Davies Gilbert, 29, 40, 51, 63, 85, 228;
to Dr. Gray, 195, 197;
to Rev. Mr. Hodgson, 196;
to Dr. Hope, 62, 69;
to his mother, 13, 26, 27, 52, 62, 79, 158, 163, 176, 188, 211, 223;
to Mr. Poole, 88, 214, 225, 228, 232;
to his sisters, 116
---- nomenclature of chlorine compounds, 149
Davy medal, The, 235
----, Edmund, cousin of Humphry Davy, 114, 123, 133
----, Edmund, grandfather of Humphry Davy, 10
----, Lady, her character, 189, 190, 191
----, Robert, father of Humphry Davy, 9, 10
Diamond, Davy’s investigation of nature of, 184
Dibdin, Dr., his address on the occasion of Davy’s illness, 123
Edgeworth, Maria, her account of the respiratory action of nitrous
oxide, 41;
her account of Davy’s visit to Ireland, 112, 158;
on Mrs. Apreece, 165
Electro-chemical Theory of Davy, 106
Electrolytic decomposition of water, Discovery of, by Nicholson and
Carlisle, 90
Electro-magnetism, Davy’s contributions to, 218
“Elements of Chemical Philosophy,” Davy’s, 167
Euchlorine, 142, 151
Faraday, Michael, attends Davy’s lectures, 143;
joins the Royal Institution, 173;
his letters to Abbott concerning Davy, 188, 189;
his relations to Davy, 220
“Fidelissima,” her sonnets to Davy, 78
Fire-damp explosions, 193
Flame, Davy’s investigations on, 209
Fluorine, Attempts to isolate, by Davy, 170
---- theory, The, 172 _et seq._
“Fuming liquor of Cadet,” Davy’s investigation of, 132
Garnett, Thomas, first lecturer in the Royal Institution, 68
Gay Lussac, Davy’s account of, 179
Gilbert, Davies (Davies Giddy), 21, 22
Gray, Rev. Dr., his association with Davy, 195, 197
Heat a mode of motion, 32
“Heat, Light, and the Combinations of Light,” 30, 37
Hippesley, Sir John, 69, 80
Hodgson, Rev. Mr., his association with Davy, 194, 196, 201
Horner, Francis, his opinion of Davy as a lecturer, 77
Humboldt, Davy’s account of, 178
Hydrogen chloride, Synthesis of, by Cruickshank, 139
Iodates, Davy’s investigation of, 184
Iodine, Discovery of, by Courtois, 180;
investigation of, by Clement, 180;
by Davy, 180 _et seq._;
by Gay Lussac, 180
Ireland, Davy’s views on, 112;
his lectures in, 156 _et seq._
Lavoisier’s “Elements”--character as a text-book, 19
“Liquor of Libavius,” Action of ammonia on, studied by Davy, 137
Lockhart’s account of Davy, 110, 217
Nitrogen believed by Davy to be a compound, 132 _et seq._
---- chloride, Investigation of, by Davy, 168;
its explosion injures Davy, 169
---- oxides, Davy’s work on, 42, 45
Nitrosulphonic acid, 154
Nitrous oxide, discovery of its respirability, 41, 46, 49;
composition of, 45;
effect of breathing, 49
Oxymuriatic acid, Davy’s memoir on, 134
Papyri, Davy’s attempts to unroll, 211
Penzance, State of society in, at close of 18th century, 14
Phosoxygen, 30, 33, 35, 37
Phospham, 138
Phosphorous acid and oxide, 153
---- chlorides discovered by Davy, 129, 152;
action of ammonia on, 137;
action of water on, 140;
analysis of, 153
Pneumatic Institution, Bristol, 23, 27, 29
Potassamide, Preparation of, 129
Potassium, Isolation of, 114 _et seq._, 116 _et seq._;
properties of, 116
Priestley, Joseph, 38
Purkis, Mr., his account of Davy’s lectures, 77
Royal Institution, The, its origin and character, 66, 79;
its chemical laboratory, 90, 133;
minutes of Managers, 63, 72, 166, 175, 176
---- medals, the, Institution of, 216
---- Society, Davy’s election into the, 213;
becomes Secretary, 112;
becomes President, 214;
his views of its functions, 215
Rumford, his theory of heat, 32;
founds the Royal Institution, 66;
visit of Davy to, at Auteuil, 177
---- medal awarded to Davy, 213
Safety lamp, its invention, 192 _et seq._;
account of, by Playfair, 203
“Salmonia,” Account of, 229
Scheele, discoverer of chlorine, 136
Scott, Sir Walter, his friendship for Lady Davy, 162;
his friendship for Davy, 217
Ship-sheathing, Davy’s experiments on, 222
Silex in plants, 39
Sodium, Isolation of, 118;
properties of, 119
Southey, Robert, his opinion of Davy, 18, 55, 56;
letter to Davy, 56
Steel-mill, The, 193
Stephenson, George, his attempts to make a safe lamp, 205
Tanning, Lectures on, 72
Telluretted hydrogen, Discovery of, by Davy, 131
Tepidarians, The, 75, 78
Ticknor’s account of Davy, 190;
of Lady Davy, 190
Tonkin, John, Davy’s benefactor, 9, 13, 20, 25, 53
Torpedo, Electricity of, 183, 231
Trinity College, Dublin, confers honorary LL.D. on Davy, 158
Vauquelin, Davy’s account of, 178
Vesuvius, Davy’s investigations on, 185, 187, 212
Volta, Davy’s account of, 186;
Faraday’s account of, 188
Voltaic electricity, Davy’s contributions to, 93, 99, 100, 113,
114, 126, 131
---- pile, Discovery of, 90, 93
Warington, Professor, his estimate of Davy as an agricultural
chemist, 98
Watt, Gregory, his character, 21, 52
Wavellite, Davy’s analysis of, 94
“West Country Collection,” 30;
characteristics of Davy’s contributions to, 37
Wollaston, William Hyde, character of, 214, 217;
his death, 232
Wordsworth meets Davy on Helvellyn, 110
Young, Thomas, his connection with the Royal Institution, 72;
his review of Davy’s “Elements of Chemical Philosophy,” 167;
death of, 234
PRINTED BY CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED, LA BELLE SAUVAGE, LONDON, E.C.
Transcriber’s Notes
Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a
predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not
changed.
Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced
quotation marks retained.
Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.
Index not checked for proper alphabetization or correct page references.