CHAPTER XI.

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.