The Life of Sir Humphry Davy, Bart. LL.D., Volume 1 (of 2)
by John Ayrton Paris · English · Gutenberg #45394 · 703,307 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Life of Sir Humphry Davy, Bart. LL.D., Volume 1 (of 2)
Author: John Ayrton Paris
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[Illustration]
Sir Thos. Lawrence pinxt. W. H. Worthington sculpt.
H. Davy
Engraved by permission of the Council of
the Royal Society from the original painting.
London, Published by Henry Colburn & Richard Bentley 1831.
THE LIFE
OF
SIR HUMPHRY DAVY,
BART. LL.D.
LATE PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY, FOREIGN ASSOCIATE
OF THE ROYAL INSTITUTE OF FRANCE,
&c. &c. &c.
BY
JOHN AYRTON PARIS, M.D. CANTAB. F.R.S. &C.
FELLOW OF THE ROYAL COLLEGE OF PHYSICIANS.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY,
NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
MDCCCXXXI.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY,
Dorset-street, Fleet-street.
TO
HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS
PRINCE AUGUSTUS FREDERICK,
DUKE OF SUSSEX, K.G. D.C.L.
_&c. &c. &c._
PRESIDENT OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY;
THESE MEMOIRS OF A PHILOSOPHER
WHOSE SPLENDID DISCOVERIES
ILLUMINED THE AGE IN WHICH HE LIVED,
ADORNED THE COUNTRY WHICH GAVE HIM BIRTH,
AND OBTAINED FROM FOREIGN AND HOSTILE NATIONS
THE HOMAGE OF ADMIRATION AND
THE MEED OF GRATITUDE,
ARE,
BY THE GRACIOUS PERMISSION OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS,
DEDICATED WITH SENTIMENTS OF PROFOUND RESPECT,
BY
THE AUTHOR.
PREFACE.
The reflecting portion of mankind has ever felt desirous of
becoming acquainted with the origin, progress, habits, and
peculiarities of those whom the powers of genius may have raised
above the plane of intellectual equality; but neither the nature of
the information, nor the extent of the detail that may be necessary
to satisfy so laudable a curiosity, can ever be estimated by any
common standard, since it is not in our nature to contemplate an
object of admiration, but with reference to our own predilections
and sympathies; and hence every reader will form a scale for
himself, according to the degree of interest he may feel for the
particular character under review. The Poetical enthusiast, who
could not sufficiently express his gratitude on being told that
Milton wore shoe-buckles, would very probably not have given
'four farthings,' as Gray says, to know that the shoes of Davy
were tanned by catechu; and yet if the relative value of this
information were fairly estimated, it must be admitted that the
former is a matter of barren curiosity, the latter, a fact of some
practical utility. In a word, we very naturally connect the man
with his works, and we care not to extend our acquaintance with the
one, but in proportion as we have derived pleasure from the other.
In like manner, very different estimates will be formed of the
degree of praise due to a distinguished philosopher, because the
few who are deeply imbued with a knowledge of the science he may
have adorned and enlightened must not only appreciate the value
of his labours, but understand the difficulties which opposed
the accomplishment of them, before they can arrive at a sound
decision upon the question: and here again the judgment of the
most scientific may be unfortunately warped; it may be corrupted
by secret passions or sinister influences; be distorted by the
prejudices of education and habit, or unduly biassed by invincible
prepossessions.
No man ever soared, like an eagle, to the pinnacle of fame,
without exciting the envy and perhaps the hatred of those who
could only crawl up half-way; while, on the other hand, where
no rivalry can exist, the splendour of such an ascent will
captivate the bystander, and by exciting intemperate triumph and
unqualified admiration, change without diminishing the sources of
erroneous judgment, and substitute adulation for calumny. Under
such circumstances, an allusion even to the common frailties of
genius becomes offensive; the biographer is called upon for the
delineation of a perfect man; but the world is satisfied with
nothing short of 'a faultless monster;' and yet, while they would
impose upon him the same restraint as Queen Elizabeth laid upon
her artist--to execute a portrait without a single shadow, they
little imagine how completely they obscure the features of their
idol, by the haze of incense in which they continually envelope
it. These are evils against which a future historian will not have
to contend; for time tries the characters of men, as the furnace
assays the quality of metals, by disengaging the impurities,
dissipating the superficial irridescence, and leaving the sterling
gold bright and pure.
Nor can the extent of our obligations to a philosopher be
appreciated until time shall have shown the various important
purposes to which his discoveries may administer. The names of
Mayow and Hales might have been lost in the stream of discovery,
had not the results of Priestley and Lavoisier shown the value
and importance of their statical experiments on the chemical
relations of air to other substances. The discoveries of Dr. Black
on the subject of _latent_ heat could never have obtained that
celebrity they now enjoy, had not Mr. Watt availed himself of their
application for the improvement of the steam-engine; and the views
of Sir H. Davy respecting the true nature of chlorine become daily
more important from the discovery of new elements of an analogous
nature. In future ages, the metals of the alkalies and earths may
admit of applications, and open new avenues of knowledge, of which
at present we can form no idea; but it is obvious that, in the
page of history, his name will gather fame in proportion as such
discoveries unfold themselves.
It must be admitted, that such considerations may furnish
an argument against the propriety of writing the life of a
contemporaneous philosopher; and yet I will never admit, with Mr.
Babbage, that "the volume of his biography should be sealed, until
the warm feelings of surviving kindred and admiring friends shall
be cold as the grave, from which remembrance vainly recalls his
cherished form, invested with all the life and energy of recent
existence."
Is it not possible that the errors of partiality, which have
so frequently been charged upon the writer on these occasions,
may often be ascribed, with greater truth and justice, to the
prejudices of the reader--that, after all, the distortion might
not have existed in the portrait itself, but in the optics of the
observer? Such an opinion, however, even were it true, carries
along with it no consolation to the biographer; for I know of no
method by which the picture can be adapted to the focus of every
eye.
If, however, contemporaneous biography has its difficulties and
impediments, so has it also its advantages. Dr. Johnson has
remarked, in his Life of Addison, that "History may be formed from
permanent monuments and records; but Lives can only be written
from personal knowledge, which is growing every day less, and in a
short time is lost for ever. The delicate features of the mind, the
nice discriminations of character, and the minute peculiarities of
conduct, are soon obliterated."
I did not enter upon this arduous and delicate task, without
a distinct conception of the various difficulties which would
necessarily oppose its accomplishment. I well knew that
the biographer of Davy must hold himself prepared for the
dissatisfaction of one party at the commendations he might bestow,
and for the displeasure of the other at the penury of his praise,
or the asperity of his criticism.
After great labour and much anxiety, I have at length completed the
work; and in giving it to the world, I shall apply to myself the
words of Swift--"I have the ambition to wish, at least, that both
parties may think me in the right; but if that is not to be hoped
for, my next wish should be, that both might think me in the wrong,
which I would understand as an ample justification of myself, and
a sure ground to believe that I have proceeded, at least, with
impartiality, and perhaps even with truth."
It is certainly due to myself, and perhaps to the world, to
state the circumstances by which I was induced to undertake a
work requiring for its completion a freedom from anxiety, and an
extent of research, scarcely compatible with the occupations of
a laborious profession; and which, I may add, has been wholly
composed during night, in hours stolen from sleep. Very shortly
after the death of Sir Humphry Davy, an account of his life,
written by no friendly hand, nor 'honest chronicler,' was submitted
for my judgment by a Journalist who had intended to insert it in
his paper. At my request, it was committed to the flames; but
not until I had promised to supply the loss by another memoir.
The sketches by which I redeemed this pledge were published in a
weekly journal--THE SPECTATOR; and they have since been copied into
various other works, sometimes with, but frequently without any
acknowledgment. They constitute the greater part of the Life which
was printed in the Annual Obituary for 1829; and they form the
introduction to an edition of his "Last Days," lately published in
America.
I was soon recognised as the writer of these Sketches; and the
leading publishers of the day urged me to undertake a more extended
work. To these solicitations I returned a direct refusal: I even
declined entering upon any conversation on the occasion; feeling
that the wishes of Lady Davy, at that time on the Continent, ought
in the very first instance to be consulted on the subject. Had not
the common courtesy of society required such a mark of attention,
the wish expressed by Sir Humphry in his Will would have rendered
it an imperative duty. On her arrival in London, in consequence
of a letter she had addressed to Mr. Murray, I requested an
interview with her Ladyship, from whom I received not only an
unqualified permission to become the biographer of her illustrious
husband, but also the several documents which are published with
acknowledgement in these memoirs. I still felt that Dr. Davy might
desire to accomplish the task of recording the scientific services
of his distinguished brother; and, had that been the case, I should
most undoubtedly have retired without the least hesitation or
reluctance; but I was assured by those who were best calculated to
form an opinion upon this point,--for he was himself absent from
England,--that motives of delicacy which it was easy to appreciate,
would at once lead him to decline an undertaking embarrassed with
so many personal considerations. The task, however, of collating
the various works of Sir H. Davy, and of enriching them by notes
derived from his own knowledge of the circumstances under which
they were written, I do hope will be accomplished by one who is so
well calculated to heighten the interest, and to increase the value
of labours of such infinite importance to science, and to the best
interests of mankind.
The engraving which adorns the volume is from a painting by Sir
Thomas Lawrence, presented to the Royal Society by Lady Davy; and
I beg the Council of that learned body to accept my thanks for the
permission they so readily granted for its being engraved. It is
one of the happiest efforts of the distinguished Artist, and is
the only portrait I have seen in which his features are happily
animated with the expression of the poet, and whose eye is bent to
pursue the flights of his imagination through unexplored regions.
I must also embrace this opportunity of publicly expressing my
thanks to the Managers of the Royal Institution, who, in the most
handsome manner, immediately complied with my request to inspect
their Journals, and to make such extracts from them, as I might
consider necessary for the completion of my memoirs.
To Mr. Davies Gilbert, I am under obligations which it is difficult
for me to acknowledge in adequate terms, not only for the value of
the materials with which he has furnished me, but for the kindness
and urbanity with which they were communicated, and for the ready
and powerful assistance which I have so constantly received from
him during the progress of the work.
To the other enlightened individuals from whom I have received
support, I have acknowledged my obligations in the body of the
work; and should I have inadvertently passed over any service
without a becoming notice, I trust the extent of the labour and
the circumstances under which it has been performed, will plead my
apology.
Dover Street, January 1, 1831.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Birth and family of Sir H. Davy.--Davy placed at a preparatory
school.--His peculiarities when a boy.--Anecdotes.--He is admitted
into the grammar-school at Penzance.--Finishes his education
under Dr. Cardew at Truro.--Death of his father.--He is apprenticed
by his mother to Mr. John Bingham Borlase, a surgeon
and apothecary.--He enters upon the study of Chemistry, and devotes
more time to Philosophy than to Physic.--The influence of
early impressions illustrated.--His poetical talent.--Specimens of
his versification.--An Epic Poem composed by him at the age of
twelve years.--His first original experiment in chemistry.--He
conceives a new theory of heat and light.--His ingenious experiment
to demonstrate its truth.--He becomes known to Mr. Davies
Gilbert, the founder of his future fortunes.--Mr. Gregory Watt
arrives at Penzance, and lodges in the house of Mrs. Davy.--The
visit of Dr. Beddoes and Professor Hailstone to Cornwall.--The
correspondence between Dr. Beddoes and Mr. Davies Gilbert, relative
to the Pneumatic Institution at Bristol, and the proposed appointment
of Davy.--His final departure from his native town Page 1
CHAPTER II.
Cursory thoughts on the advantages of Biography.--Plan and
objects of the Pneumatic Institution.--Davy contracts friendships
during his residence at Bristol.--His first visit to London.--His
Letters to Mr. Davies Gilbert.--The publication of the West Country
Contributions, by Dr. Beddoes.--Davy's Essays on Heat, Light,
and Respiration.--His interesting experiments on bonnet canes.--He
commences an enquiry into the nature of nitrous oxyd.--He
publishes his chemical researches.--A critical examination of the
work.--Testimony of Tobin, Clayfield, Southey, and others, respecting
the powers of nitrous oxyd.--Davy breathes carburetted
hydrogen gas, and nearly perishes from its effects.--His new Galvanic
experiments communicated in a Letter to Mr. Gilbert 56
CHAPTER III.
Count Rumford negotiates with Mr. Underwood on the subject of Davy's
appointment to the Royal Institution.--Terms of his engagement
communicated in a letter to Mr. Gilbert.--Davy arrives, and takes
possession of his apartments.--He receives various
mortifications.--He is elected a member of the Tepidarian
Society.--Is appointed Lecturer instead of assistant.--He makes a
tour in Cornwall with Mr. Underwood.--Anecdotes.--His Poem on
Spinosism.--His letter to Mr. Gilbert, communicating a galvanic
discovery.--He commences his first grand course of lectures.--His
brilliant success.--A letter from Mr. Purkis.--Davy's style
criticised.--His extraordinary method of experimenting.--Davy and
Wollaston compared as experimentalists.--The style of Davy as a
lecturer and a writer contrasted 114
CHAPTER IV.
Davy makes a tour with Mr. Purkis through Wales.--Beautiful
phenomenon observed from the summit of Arran Benllyn.--Letter
to Mr. Gilbert.--Journal of the Institution.--Davy's papers on
Eudiometry, and other subjects.--His first communication to the
Royal Society, on a new galvanic pile.--He is proposed as a Fellow,
and elected into the Society.--His paper on astringent vegetable
substances, and on their operation in tanning leather.--His
letter to Mr. Poole.--He is appointed Chemical Lecturer to the
Board of Agriculture.--He forms friendships with the Duke of
Bedford, Mr. Coke, and many other celebrated agriculturists.--Attends
the sheep-shearing at Holkham and Woburn.--Composes
a Prologue to "The Honey-Moon" 150
CHAPTER V.
Sir Thomas Bernard allots Davy a piece of ground for Agricultural
Experiments.--History of the Origin of the Royal Institution.--Its
early labours.--Davy's Letters to Mr. Gilbert and to Mr.
Poole.--Death of Mr. Gregory Watt.--Davy's Passion for Fishing,
with Anecdotes.--He makes a Tour in Ireland: his Letters on
the subject.--His Paper on the Analysis of the Wavellite.--His
Memoirs on a new method of analysing Minerals which contain a
fixed Alkali.--Reflections on the discovery of Galvanic
Electricity 188
CHAPTER VI.
The History of Galvanism divided into six grand Epochs.--Davy
extends the experiment of Nicholson and Carlisle.--His Pile of one
metal and two fluids.--Dr. Wollaston advocates the doctrine of
oxidation being the primary cause of Voltaic Phenomena.--Davy's
modification of that theory.--His Bakerian Lecture of 1806.--He
discovers the sources of the acid and alkaline matter eliminated
from water by Voltaic action.--On the nature of Electrical
decomposition and transfer.--On the relations between the Electrical
energies of bodies, and their Chemical affinities.--General
developement of the Electro-chemical Laws.--Illustrations,
Applications, and Conclusions 216
CHAPTER VII.
The unfair rivalry of Philosophers.--Bonaparte the Patron of
Science--He liberates Dolomieu.--He founds a Prize for the
encouragement of Electric researches.--His letter to the Minister of
the Interior.--Proceedings of the Institute.--The Prize is conferred
on Davy.--The Bakerian Lecture of 1807.--The Decomposition of
the Fixed Alkalies--Potassium--Sodium.--The Questions to which
the discovery gave rise.--Interesting Extracts from the Manuscript
notes of the Laboratory.--Potash decomposed by a chemical
process.--Letters to Children, and Pepys.--The true nature
of Potash discovered.--Whether Ammonia contains oxygen.--Davy's
severe Illness.--He recovers and resumes his labours.--His
Fishing Costume.--He decomposes the Earths.--Important views
to which the discovery has led 253
CHAPTER VIII.
Davy's Bakerian Lecture of 1808.--Results obtained from the
mutual action of Potassium and Ammonia upon each other.--His
belief that he had decomposed Nitrogen.--He discovers Telluretted
Hydrogen.--Whether Sulphur, Phosphorus, and Carbon may not
contain Hydrogen.--He decomposes Boracic acid.--Boron.--His
fallacies with regard to the composition of Muriatic acid.--A
splendid Voltaic battery is constructed at the Institution by
subscription.--Davy ascertains the true nature of the Muriatic and
Oxymuriatic Acids.--Important chemical analogies to which the
discovery gave origin.--Euchlorine.--Chlorides.--He delivers
Lectures before the Dublin Society.--He receives the Honorary Degree
of LL.D. from the Provost and Fellows of Trinity College.--He
undertakes to ventilate the House of Lords.--The Regent confers upon
him the honour of Knighthood.--He delivers his farewell
Lecture.--Engages in a Gunpowder manufactory.--His marriage 307
CHAPTER IX.
Davy's "Elements of Chemical Philosophy" examined.--His
Memoir on some combinations of Phosphorus and Sulphur, &c.--He
discovers Hydro-phosphoric gas.--Important Illustrations of
the Theory of Definite Proportionals.--Bodies precipitated from
water are Hydrats.--His letter to Sir Joseph Banks on a new
detonating compound.--He is injured in the eye by its explosion.--His
second letter on the subject.--His paper on the Substances
produced in different Chemical processes on Fluor Spar.--His
work on Agricultural Chemistry 358
Octr. 19{th}
When Potash was introduced into a tube having a platina wire
attached to it so & fixed into the tube so as to be a conductor
ie. so as to contain just water enough though solid--& inserted
over mercury, when the Platina was made neg--No gas was formed
& the mercury became oxydated--& a small quantity of the
athalyer was produced around the plat: wire as was evident from
its gassy alteration by the action of water
--When the mercury was made the neg: gas was developed in great
quantities from the pos: wire, & some from the neg mercury & this
gas proved to be pure? _oxygene_ Capil Expr.--
proving the decompr of _Potash_
London, Published by Henry Colburn & Richard Bentley 1831
[Illustration]
THE LIFE
OF
SIR HUMPHRY DAVY,
BART. &c. &c.
CHAPTER I.
Birth and family of Sir H. Davy.--Davy placed at a preparatory
school.--His peculiarities when a boy.--Anecdotes.--He is
admitted into the grammar-school at Penzance.--Finishes his
education under Dr. Cardew at Truro.--Death of his father.--He
is apprenticed by his mother to Mr. John Bingham Borlase, a
surgeon and apothecary.--He enters upon the study of Chemistry,
and devotes more time to Philosophy than to Physic.--The
influence of early impressions illustrated.--His poetical
talent.--Specimens of his versification.--An Epic Poem composed
by him at the age of twelve years.--His first original
experiment in chemistry.--He conceives a new theory of heat and
light.--His ingenious experiment to demonstrate its truth.--He
becomes known to Mr. Davies Gilbert, the founder of his future
fortunes.--Mr. Gregory Watt arrives at Penzance, and lodges in
the house of Mrs. Davy.--The visit of Dr. Beddoes and Professor
Hailstone to Cornwall.--The correspondence between Dr. Beddoes
and Mr. Davies Gilbert, relative to the Pneumatic Institution
at Bristol, and the proposed appointment of Davy.--His final
departure from his native town.
Humphry Davy was born at Penzance, in Cornwall, on the 17th of
December 1778.[1] His ancestors had long possessed a small estate
at Varfell, in the parish of Ludgvan, in the Mount's Bay, on which
they resided: this appears from tablets in the church, one of
which bears a date as far back as 1635. We are, however, unable to
ascend higher in the pedigree than to his paternal grandfather, who
seems to have been a builder of considerable repute in the west of
Cornwall, and is said to have planned and erected the mansion of
_Trelissick_, near Truro, at present the property and residence of
Thomas Daniel, Esq.
[1] I have been favoured by the Rev. C. Val. Le Grice, of
Trereiffe, with the following extract from the Parish Register,
kept at Madron:--"Humphry Davy, son of Robert Davy, baptized at
Penzance, January 22, 1779." The house in which he was born has
been pulled down and lately rebuilt.
His son, the parent of the illustrious subject of our history,
was sent to London, and apprenticed to a carver in wood, but, on
the death of his father, who, although originally a younger son,
had latterly become the representative of the family, he found
himself in the possession of a patrimony amply competent for the
supply of his limited desires, and therefore pursued his art rather
as an object of amusement than one of necessity: in the town and
neighbourhood of Penzance, however, there remain many specimens of
his skill; and I have myself seen several chimney-pieces curiously
embellished by his chisel.[2]
[2] Soon after the days of Gibbons, the art of ornamental carving
in wood began to decay, and it may now be considered as nearly
lost. Its decline may be attributed to two causes. In the first
place, to the change of taste in fitting up the interior of our
mansions; and in the next, to the introduction of composition for
the enrichment of picture-frames and other objects of ornament.
"Robert Davy," says a correspondent, "has been considered in this
neighbourhood as the LAST OF THE CARVERS, and from his small
size, was generally called _The little Carver_."
I am not able to discover that he was remarkable for any
peculiarity of intellect; he passed through life without bustle,
and quitted it with the usual regrets of friends and relatives. The
habits, however, generally imputed to him were certainly not such
as would have induced us to anticipate a high degree of steadiness
in the son.
His wife, whose maiden name was Grace Millett, was remarkable for
the placidity of her temper, and for the amiable and benevolent
tendency of her disposition: she had been adopted and brought up,
together with her two sisters, under circumstances of affecting
interest, by Mr. John Tonkin, an eminent surgeon and apothecary in
Penzance; a person of very considerable natural endowments, and
whose Socratic sayings are, to this day, proverbial with many of
the older inhabitants.
To withhold a narrative of the circumstances that led Mr. Tonkin
to the adoption of these orphan children, would be a species
of historical fraud and literary injustice, by which the world
would not only lose one of those bright examples of pure and
disinterested benevolence, which cheer the heart and ornament
our nature, but the medical profession would be deprived of an
additional claim to that public veneration and regard, to which the
kind sympathy of its professors has so universally entitled it.
The parents of these children, having been attacked by a fatal
fever, expired within a few hours of each other: the dying
agonies of the surviving mother were sharpened by her reflecting
on the forlorn condition in which her children would be left;
for, although the Milletts were originally aristocratic
and wealthy, the property had undergone so many subdivisions,
as to have left but a very slender provision for the member of the
family to whom she had united herself.
The affecting appeal which Mrs. Millett is said to have addressed
to her sympathising friend, and medical attendant, was not made
in vain: on her decease, Mr. Tonkin immediately removed the
three children to his own house, and they continued under the
guardianship of their kind benefactor, until each, in succession,
found a home by marriage.
The eldest sister, Jane, was married to Henry Sampson, a
respectable watchmaker at Penzance; the youngest, Elizabeth, to
her cousin, Leonard Millett of Marazion; neither of whom had any
family. The second sister, Grace, was married to Robert Davy, from
which union sprang five children, two boys and three girls, the
eldest being Humphry, the subject of our memoir, and the second
son, John, now Dr. Davy, a Surgeon to the Forces, and a gentleman
distinguished by several papers in the Philosophical Transactions.
Humphry Davy was nursed by his mother, and passed his infancy
with his parents;[3] but his childhood, after they had removed
from Penzance to reside on their estate at Varfell, was spent
partly with them and partly with Mr. John Tonkin, who extended his
disinterested kindness from the mother to all her children, but
more especially to Humphry, who is said, when a child, to have
exhibited powers of mind superior to his years. I have spared no
pains in collecting materials for the illustration of the earlier
periods of his history; as, to estimate the magnitude of an object,
we must measure the base with accuracy, in order to comprehend the
elevation of its summit.
[3] For these materials I acknowledge myself indebted to Dr.
Penneck of Penzance, and to Mrs. Millett, Sir H. Davy's sister.
The facts were communicated in letters to Lady Davy, by whom they
were kindly placed at my disposal.
He was first placed at a preparatory seminary kept by a Mr.
Bushell, who was so struck with the progress he made, that he urged
his father to remove him to a superior school.
It is a fact worthy, perhaps, of being recorded, that he would
at the age of about five years turn over the pages of a book as
rapidly as if he were merely engaged in counting the number of
leaves, or in hunting after pictures; and yet, on being questioned,
he could generally give a very satisfactory account of the
contents. I have been informed by Lady Davy that the same faculty
was retained by him through life, and that she has often been
astonished, beyond the power of expression, at the rapidity with
which he read a work, and the accuracy with which he remembered it.
Mr. Children has also communicated to me an anecdote, which may
be related in illustration of the same quality. Shortly after Dr.
Murray had published his system of chemistry, Davy accompanied Mr.
Children in an excursion to Tonbridge, and the new work was placed
in the carriage. During the occasional intervals in which their
conversation was suspended, Davy was seen turning over the leaves
of the book, but his companion did not believe it possible that he
could have made himself acquainted with any part of its contents,
until at the close of the journey he surprised him with a critical
opinion of its merits.
The book that engaged his earliest attention was "The Pilgrim's
Progress," a production well calculated, from the exuberance of its
invention, and the rich colouring of its fancy, for seizing upon
the ardent imagination of youth. This pleasing work, it will be
remembered, was the early and especial favourite of Dr. Franklin,
who never alluded to it but with feelings of the most lively
delight.
Shortly afterwards, he commenced reading history, particularly that
of England; and at the age of eight years he would, as if impressed
with the powers of oratory, collect together a number of boys in
a circle, and mounting a cart or carriage that might be standing
before the inn near Mr. Tonkin's house, harangue them on different
subjects, and offer such comments as his own ideas might suggest.
He was, moreover, at this age, a great lover of the marvellous,
and amused himself and his schoolfellows by composing stories of
romance and tales of chivalry, with all the fluency of an Italian
improvisatore; and joyfully would he have issued forth, armed
_cap-à-pié_, in search of adventures, and to free the world of
dragons and giants.
In this early fondness for fiction, and in the habit of exercising
his ingenuity in creating imagery for the gratification of his
fancy, Davy and Sir Walter Scott greatly resembled each other.
The Author of Waverley, in his general preface to the late
edition of his novels, has given us the following account of this
talent. "I must refer to a very early period of my life, were I
to point out my first achievement as a tale-teller; but I believe
most of my old schoolfellows can still bear witness that I had
a distinguished character for that talent, at a time when the
applause of my companions was my recompense for the disgraces and
punishments which the future romance-writer incurred for being idle
himself, and keeping others idle, during hours that should have
been employed on our tasks." Had not Davy's talents been diverted
into other channels, who can say that we might not have received
from his inventive pen a series of romantic tales, as beautifully
illustrative of the early history of his native country as are the
Waverley Novels of that of Scotland? for Cornwall is by no means
deficient in elfin sprites and busy "_piskeys_;" the invocation is
alone required to summon them from their dark recesses and mystic
abodes.
Davy was also in the frequent habit of writing verses and ballads;
of making fireworks, and of preparing a particular detonating
composition, to which he gave the name of "Thunder-powder," and
which he would explode on a stone to the great wonder and delight
of his young playfellows.
Another of his favourite amusements may also be recorded in this
place; for, however trifling in itself the incident may appear,
to the biographer it is full of interest, as tending to show the
early existence of that passion for experiment, which afterwards
rose so nobly in its aims and objects, as the mind expanded with
the advancement of his years. It consisted in scooping out the
inside of a turnip, placing a lighted candle in the cavity, and
then exhibiting it as a lamp; by the aid of which he would melt
fragments of tin, obtained from the metallic blocks which commonly
lie about the streets of a coinage town, and demand from his
companions a certain number of pins for the privilege of witnessing
the operation.
At an early age, but I am unable to ascertain the exact period, he
was placed at the Grammar-School in Penzance, under the Rev. J. C.
Coryton; and whilst his father resided at Varfell, he lived with
Mr. Tonkin, except during the holidays, which he always spent with
his parents.
He was extremely fond of fishing; and I have been lately informed
by one of his earliest companions, that when very young he greatly
excelled in that art. "I have known him," says my correspondent,
"catch grey-mullet at Penzance Pier, when none of us could succeed.
The mullet is a very difficult fish to hook, on account of the
diminutive size of its mouth; but Davy adopted a plan of his own
contrivance. Observing that they always swam in shoals, he attached
a succession of pilchards to a string, reaching from the surface to
the bottom of the sea, and while his prey were swimming around the
bait, he would by a sudden movement of the string entangle several
of them on the hooks, and thus dexterously capture them."
As soon as he became old enough to carry a gun, a portion of his
leisure hours was passed in the recreation of shooting; a pursuit
which also enabled him to form a collection of the rare birds which
occasionally frequented the neighbourhood, and which he is said to
have stuffed with more than ordinary skill.
When at home, he frequently amused himself with reading and
sketching, and sometimes with caricaturing any thing which struck
his fancy; on some occasions he would shut himself up in his room,
arrange the chairs, and lecture to them by the hour together.
I have been informed by one of his schoolfellows, a gentleman
now highly distinguished for his literary attainments, that, in
addition to the amusements already noticed, he was very fond
of playing at "Tournament," fabricating shields and visors of
pasteboard, and lances of wood, to which he gave the appearance
of steel by means of black-lead. Thus equipped, the juvenile
combatants, like Ascanius and the Trojan youths of classic
recollection, would tilt at each other, and perform a variety of
warlike evolutions.
By this anecdote we are forcibly reminded of the early taste of
Sir William Jones, who, when a boy at Harrow School, invented a
political play, in which William Bennet, Bishop of Cloyne, and the
celebrated Dr. Parr, were his principal associates. They divided
the fields in the neighbourhood of Harrow, according to a map
of Greece, into states and kingdoms; each fixed upon one as his
dominion, and assumed an ancient name. Some of their schoolfellows
consented to be styled Barbarians, who were to invade their
territories and attack their hillocks, which they denominated
fortresses.[4]
[4] Life of Sir William Jones, by Lord Teignmouth.
On one occasion, Davy got up a Pantomime; and I have very
unexpectedly obtained a fly-leaf, torn out of a Schrevelius'
Lexicon, on which the _Dramatis Personæ_, as well as the names
of the young actors, were registered, as originally cast. This
document appears so interesting, that I have thought it right to
place it on record.
_Father_ Cunnack.
_Harlequin_ Davy.
_Clown_ ....[5]
_Columbine_ Hichens.
_Cupid_ Veale.
_Fortuna_ Scobell.
_Ben_ Billy Giddy.
_Nurse_ Robyns.
_Maccaroni_ Dennis.
[5] Here, as Mrs. Ratcliffe would say, the Legend is so effaced
by damp and time, as to be wholly illegible.
The performers, who, I believe, with one exception, are all living,
will perhaps find some amusement in examining how far their future
characters were shadowed forth on this occasion. At all events, I
feel confident that they will receive no small gratification at
having their recollections thus carried back to the joyous scenes
of boyhood, connected as they always are, and must ever be, with
the most delightful associations of our lives.
From Penzance school he went to Truro, in the year 1793, and
finished his education under the Rev. Dr. Cardew, a gentleman who
is distinguished by the number of eminent scholars with which he
has graced his country.
That he was quick and industrious in his school exercises, may
be inferred from an anecdote related by his sister, that "on
being removed to Truro, Dr. Cardew found him very deficient in
the qualifications for the Class of his age, but on observing
the quickness of his talents, and his aptitude for learning, he
did not place him in a lower form, telling him that by industry
and attention he trusted he might be entitled to keep the place
assigned to him; which," his sister says, "he did, to the entire
satisfaction of his master."
It is very natural that an anecdote so gratifying to the family
should have been deeply imprinted on their memory; but we must not
be surprised on finding that it did not make a similar impression
upon Dr. Cardew. From a letter lately addressed by that gentleman
to Mr. Davies Gilbert, the following is an extract:--"With respect
to our illustrious countryman, Sir H. Davy, I fear I can claim but
little merit from the share I had in his education. He was not long
with me; and while he remained I could not discern the faculties
by which he was afterwards so much distinguished; I discovered,
indeed, his taste for poetry, which I did not omit to encourage."
Dr. Cardew adds, "While engaged in teaching the classics, I was
anxious to discharge faithfully the duties of my profession to the
best of my ability; but I was certainly fortunate in having so many
good materials to work upon, and thus having only '_fungi vice
cotis_,' though '_exsors ipse secandi_.'"--To the truth of this
latter part of the Doctor's quotation, will his scholars willingly
subscribe? It may be fairly doubted how far Dr. Cardew was able
to descend into the shadowy regions of Maro, without the "_donum
fatalis virgæ_."
Mrs. Millett thinks that the deficiency just alluded to may be
attributed to Mr. Coryton, rather than to the inattention of her
brother; the former having, from his neglect as a master, given
very general dissatisfaction. From what I can learn, at this
distant period, of the character of Mr. Coryton, it appears at all
events, that the "_exsors ipse secandi_" could not have been justly
applied to him; and that, owing to an unfortunate aptness in the
name to a doggrel verse, poor Davy had frequently to smart under
his tyranny.
"Now, Master Dàvy,
Now, Sir, I hàve 'e,
No one shall sàve 'e,
Good Master Dàvy;"
when the master, suiting the action to the rhythm, inflicted upon
the hand of the unlucky scholar the verberations of that type and
instrument of pedagoguish authority--the flat ruler. Here we have
another example of the seduction of sound, argued by our great
jurist Mr. Bentham,[6] to have determined the maxims of that law,
which has been pronounced by its sages the perfection of reason.
[6] "Were the enquiry diligently made," he says, "it would be
found that the Goddess of Harmony has exercised more influence,
however latent, over the dispensations of Themis, than her
most diligent historiographers, or even her most passionate
panegyrists, seem to be aware of. Every one knows how, by the
ministry of Orpheus, it was she who first collected the sons
of men beneath the shadow of the sceptre: yet in the midst of
continual experience, men seem yet to learn with what successful
diligence she laboured to guide it in its course."
From a letter, however, written by Davy a few years afterwards,
respecting the education of a member of his family, he would appear
to have entertained an opinion not very unlike that of John Locke;
for, although he testifies the highest respect for Dr. Cardew, he
seems to consider the comparative idleness of his earlier school
career, by allowing him to follow the bent of his own mind, to have
favoured the developement of his peculiar genius. "After all," he
says, "the way in which we are taught Latin and Greek, does not
much influence the important structure of our minds. I consider
it fortunate that I was left much to myself as a child, and put
upon no particular plan of study, and that I enjoyed much idleness
at Mr. Coryton's school. I perhaps owe to these circumstances the
little talents I have, and their peculiar application:--what I am I
have made myself--I say this without vanity, and in pure simplicity
of heart."
His temper during youth is represented as mild and amiable. He
never suppressed his feelings, but every action was marked by
ingenuousness and candour, qualities which endeared him to his
youthful associates, and gained him the love of all who knew him.
"Nor can I find," says his sister, "beloved as he must have been by
my mother, that she showed him any particular preference;--all her
children appeared to be alike her care, and all alike shared her
affection."
In 1794, Mr. Davy died. We cannot but regret that he did not live
long enough to witness his son's eminence; for life, as Johnson
says, has few better things to give than a talented son; but from
his widow, who has but lately descended to the tomb, full of years
and respectability, this boon was not withheld, she witnessed his
whole career of usefulness and honour, and happily closed her eyes
before her maternal fears could have been awakened by those signs
of premature decay, which for some time had excited in his friends,
and in the friends of science, an alarm which the recent deplorable
event has too fatally justified.
In the year following the decease of her husband, Mrs. Davy, who
had again taken up her residence in Penzance, apprenticed her
son,[7] by the advice of her long-valued friend, Mr. Tonkin, to Mr.
John Bingham Borlase, at that time a surgeon and apothecary, but
who afterwards obtained a diploma, and became an eminent physician
at Penzance. Davy, however, for the most part, continued to pursue
his own plans of study; for although his friend Mr. Tonkin, without
doubt, intended him for a general practitioner in his native town,
yet he himself always looked forward to graduation at Edinburgh, as
a preliminary measure to his practising in the higher walk of his
profession.
[7] The original indenture, now in the possession of Mr. R.
Edmonds, solicitor, of Penzance, is dated February 10th, 1795.
His mind had, for some time, been engrossed with philosophical
pursuits; but until after he had been placed with Mr. Borlase, it
does not appear that he indicated any decided turn for chemistry,
the study of which he then commenced with all the ardour of his
temperament; and his eldest sister, who acted as his assistant,
well remembers the ravages committed on her dress by corrosive
substances.
It has been said that his mind was first directed to chemistry by
a desire to discover various mixtures as pigments: a suggestion
to which, I confess, I am not disposed to pay much attention;
for although he might have sought by new combinations to impart
a novel and vivid richness of colouring to his drawings, it was
the character of his mind to pursue with ardour every subject of
novelty, and to get at results by his own native powers, rather
than by the recorded experience of others.
I must here relate an anecdote, in illustration of this statement,
which has been lately communicated to me by the Reverend Dr.
Batten, the principal of the East India College at Hayleybury.
This gentleman was one of the earliest of Davy's schoolfellows,
but as he advanced in age, different views, and a different plan
of education, carried him to a distant part of the kingdom; the
discipline and duties of a cloistered school necessarily estranged
him from his native town; and it was not until after his admission
at Cambridge, and the arrival of the long vacation, which afforded
a temporary oblivion of academic cares, that Mr. Batten returned
to Cornwall, to revisit the scenes, and to renew the friendships
of his boyish days. Davy, who was at that period an apprentice to
Mr. Borlase, received him with transport and affection; but he
was no longer the boy that his friend had left him; he had become
more serious and contemplative, fond of solitary rambles, and
averse to enter into society, or to join the festive parties of the
inhabitants. In fact, his mind was now in the act of being moulded
by the spirit of Nature; and, without the constraint of study, he
was insensibly inhaling knowledge with the wild breezes of his
native hills.
In the course of conversation, Mr. Batten spoke of his academic
studies; and in alluding to the principles of Mechanics, to which
he had lately paid much attention, he expressed himself more
particularly pleased with that part which treats of "the Collision
of Bodies." What was his surprise, on finding Davy as well, if not
better acquainted with its several propositions! It was true that
he had never systematically studied the subject--had never perhaps
seen any standard work upon it, but he had instituted experiments
with elastic and inelastic balls, and had worked out the results by
the unassisted energies of his own mind. It is clear that, had this
branch of science not existed, Davy would have created it.
During this period of his apprenticeship, he twice a week attended
a French school in Penzance, kept by a M. Dugast, a priest from La
Vendée; and it was remarked that, although he acquired a knowledge
of the grammatical construction of the language with greater
facility than any of the other scholars, he could not succeed
in obtaining the pronunciation; and, in fact, notwithstanding
his extensive intercourse with foreigners, and his residence in
France, he never, even in after life, could pronounce French with
correctness or speak it with fluency.
While with Mr. Borlase, it was his constant custom to walk in the
evening to Marazion, to drink tea with an aunt to whom he was
greatly attached. Upon such occasions, his usual companion was a
hammer, with which he procured specimens from the rocks on the
beach. In short, it would appear that, at this period, he paid much
more attention to Philosophy than to Physic; that he thought more
of the bowels of the earth, than of the stomachs of his patients;
and that, when he should have been bleeding the sick, he was
opening veins in the granite. Instead of preparing medicines in the
surgery, he was experimenting in Mr. Tonkin's garret, which had
now become the scene of his chemical operations; and, upon more
than one occasion, it is said that he produced an explosion, which
put the Doctor, and all his glass bottles, in jeopardy. "This boy
Humphry is incorrigible!"--"Was there ever so idle a dog!"--"He
will blow us all into the air!" Such were the constant exclamations
of Mr. Tonkin; and then, in a jocose strain, he would speak of him
as the "Philosopher," and sometimes call him "Sir Humphry," as if
prophetic of his future renown.[8]
[8] Davy appears to have been more fortunate than his prototype
Scheele; for on one occasion, as the latter was employed in
making pyrophorus, a fellow apprentice, without his knowledge,
put some fulminating powder into the mixture; the consequence was
a violent explosion; the whole family was thrown into confusion,
and the young chemist was severely chastised.
His sister has remarked that, as he advanced in life, he always
preferred the society of persons older than himself; and one of his
contemporaries informs me that he never heard him allude to any
subject of science, although he remembers that while one of his
pockets was filled with fishing-tackle, the other was as commonly
loaded with specimens of rocks. With those, however, who were
superior to him in years, he delighted to enter into discussion.
At Penzance, there still resides a member of the Society of
Friends, whose ingenuity entitles him to greater rewards than a
provincial town can afford, with whom Davy, as a boy, was in the
constant habit of discussing questions of practical mechanics. "I
tell thee what, Humphry," exclaimed the Quaker upon one of these
occasions--"thou art the most quibbling hand at a dispute I ever
met with in my life."
For the surgical department of the profession, he always
entertained a decided distaste, although the following extract
from a letter of my correspondent Mr. Le Grice will show that,
for once at least, he had the merit of mending a broken head.
"The first time I ever saw Davy was on the Battery rocks; we were
alone bathing, and he pointed out to me a good place for diving;
at the same time he talked about the tides, and Sir Isaac Newton,
in a manner that greatly amazed me. I perhaps should not have so
distinctly remembered him, but on the following day, by not exactly
marking the spot he had pointed out, I was nearly killed by diving
on a rock, and he came as Mr. Borlase's assistant to dress the
wound."
It was his great delight to ramble along the sea-shore, and often,
like the orator of Athens, would he on such occasions declaim
against the howling of the wind and waves, with a view to overcome
a defect in his voice, which, although only slightly perceptible
in his maturer age, was in the days of his boyhood exceedingly
discordant. I may be allowed to observe, that the peculiar
intonation he employed in his public addresses, and which rendered
him obnoxious to the charge of affectation, was to be referred
to a laborious effort to conceal this natural infirmity. It was
also clear that he was deficient in that quality which is commonly
called "a good ear," and with which the modulation of the voice is
generally acknowledged to have an obvious connexion. Those who knew
him intimately will readily bear testimony to this fact. Whenever
he was deeply absorbed in a chemical research, it was his habit to
hum some tune, if such it could be called, for it was impossible
for any one to discover the air he intended to sing: indeed, Davy's
music became a subject of raillery amongst his friends; and Mr.
Children informs me, that, during an excursion, they attempted to
teach him the air of 'God save the King,' but their efforts were
unavailing.
It may be a question how far the following fact, with which I
have just been made acquainted, admits of explanation upon this
principle. On entering a volunteer infantry corps, commanded by
a Captain Oxnam, Davy could never emerge from the awkward squad;
no pains could make him keep the step; and those who were so
unfortunate as to stand before him in the ranks, ought to have been
heroes invulnerable in the heel. This incapacity, as may be readily
supposed, occasioned him considerable annoyance, and he engaged a
serjeant to give him private lessons, but it was all to no purpose.
In the platoon exercise he was not more expert; and he whose
electric battery was destined to triumph over the animosity of
nations, could never be taught to shoulder a musket in his native
town.
That Davy, in his youth, possessed courage and decision, may be
inferred from the circumstance of his having, upon receiving a
bite from a dog supposed to be rabid, taken his pocket-knife, and
without the least hesitation cut out the part on the spot, and then
retired into the surgery and cauterized the wound; an operation
which confined him to Mr. Tonkin's house for three weeks. The
gentleman from whom I received an account of this adventure, the
accuracy of which has been since confirmed by Davy's sister, also
told me, that he had frequently heard him declare his disbelief
in the existence of pain whenever the energies of the mind were
directed to counteract it; but he added, "I very shortly afterwards
had an opportunity of witnessing a practical refutation of this
doctrine in his own person; for upon being bitten by a conger eel,
my young friend Humphry roared out most lustily."
The anecdote of Davy's excising the bitten part with so much
promptitude and coolness, derives its interest from the age and
inexperience of the operator. In the course of his practice, every
physician must have met with similar cases of stern decision; but
I will venture to say that they have never occurred except in
instances of persons of acknowledged courage. Not many days since,
a veteran officer, distinguished for the intrepidity with which he
rescued the person of George the Third from the fury of a desperate
mob, in St. James's Park, informed me that he had formerly been
bitten at Vienna by a dog afterwards ascertained to have been
rabid; he immediately entered a blacksmith's shop, and by threats
compelled the person at the forge to heat an iron red-hot, and burn
his leg to the bone. The blacksmith, after first stipulating that
he should strap his eccentric customer to the anvil, reluctantly
complied; and my friend showed me a scar which sufficiently
testified the complete manner in which the son of Vulcan had
performed his engagement:--But to return from this digression.
At this time of day, no one can surely believe with Pope, that a
"Ruling Passion" is an innate and irresistible affection antecedent
to reason and observation: on the contrary, ample experience has
led us to the conclusion, that
----"men's judgments are
A parcel of their fortunes, and things outward
Do draw the inward quality after them."
The prevailing bias of great minds may thus be often traced to
some accidental, and apparently trivial, impression in early life;
and the acute biographer, in the course of his observations, will
continually discover traits of character that are readily referable
to such a source, even as in the magical colouring of Rembrandt's
works, the practised eye will recognize the _chiaro-oscuro_ of his
father's mill, in which the artist passed his hours of childhood.
In like manner, that marked aversion to arbitrary power, which
ever distinguished the actions and writings of Dr. Franklin, has
by himself been referred to the sense of injustice early imprinted
upon his mind by the severe and tyrannical conduct of his elder
brother; while, at the same time, he tells us that he was indebted
for his habit through life, of forming just estimates of the value
of things, to his having, at the age of seven years, "paid too much
for his whistle."
But circumstances, however disposed and happily combined, although
they may direct, can never create genius; it is possible that
Cowley might never have been enamoured of the Muses, nor Sir Joshua
Reynolds have courted the Graces, but for the casual circumstances
recorded by the biographer; and Ferguson might not have turned his
attention to mechanical inventions, had not an accident befallen
the roof of his father's cottage; and even Priestley, the founder
of a new and beautiful department in science, might very probably
never have been led to think of pneumatic chemistry, had he not
lived in the vicinity of a great brewery: still, however, such men
could not have shone dimly, if true genius be correctly defined
by Dr. Johnson as "a mind of large general powers accidentally
determined to some particular direction."[9]--So with Davy; his
mind was as vigorous as it was original, and no less logical and
precise than it was daring and comprehensive; nothing was too
mighty for its grasp, nothing too minute for its observation; like
the trunk of the elephant, it could tear up the oak of the forest,
or gently pluck the acorn from its branch.
[9] M. de Bourrienne, in his "Private Memoirs of Napoleon
Buonaparte," appears to have justly appreciated the influence
of circumstances upon the destinies of great men. In speaking
of Buonaparte at the Military College of Brienne, he says, "If
the monks, to whom the superintendence of the establishment was
confided, had engaged more able mathematical professors, or if
we had had any excitement to the study of Chemistry, or Natural
Philosophy, I am convinced that Buonaparte would have pursued
those sciences with all the genius and spirit of investigation,
which he displayed in a career more brilliant, it is true, but
far less useful to mankind."
That circumstances in early life should have directed such energies
to a science, which requires for its advancement all the aids of
novel and bold, and yet patient and accurate research, is one of
those fortunate events which every unprejudiced mind will view with
triumph.
It is surely not difficult to understand how it happened that a
mind endowed with the genius and sensibilities of Davy, should have
been directed to the study of Chemistry and Mineralogy, when we
consider the nature and scenery of the country in which accident
had placed him. Many of his friends and associates must have been
connected with mining speculations: "Shafts," "Cross Courses," and
"Lodes," were words familiarised to his ears; and his native love
of enquiry could not have long suffered them to remain strangers
to his understanding. Nor could he have wandered along the rocky
coast, or have reposed for a moment to contemplate its wild
scenery, without being invited to geological enquiry by the genius
of the place; for were we to personify the science, where could we
find a more appropriate spot for her "local habitation?" "How often
when a boy," said Davy to me, on my showing him a drawing of the
wild rock scenery of Botallack Mine, "have I wandered about those
rocks in search of new minerals, and, when fatigued, sat down upon
the turf, and exercised my fancy in anticipations of scientific
renown!"
Such scenery, also, in one who possessed a quick sensibility
to the sublime forms of Nature, was well calculated to kindle
that enthusiasm which is so essential to poetical genius; and we
accordingly learn, that he became enamoured of the Muses at a very
early age, and evinced his passion by several poetical productions.
I am assured by Dr. Batten that, at the age of twelve years, he
had finished an epic poem, which he entitled the "Tydidiad," from
its celebrating the adventures of Diomede on his return from the
Trojan war. It is much to be regretted that not even a fragment of
this poem should have been preserved; but Dr. Batten well remembers
that it was characterised by great freedom of invention, vigour of
description, and wildness of execution.
At the age of seventeen he became desperately enamoured of a
young French lady, at that time resident at Penzance, to whom
he addressed numerous sonnets; but these, like the passion that
produced them, have long since been extinct.
Several of his minor productions were printed in a work entitled
the "Annual Anthology," published in three volumes at Bristol,
in 1799; two of which were edited by Southey, and one by James
Tobin;--a work of some curiosity, independent of its merits, as the
first attempt in this country to establish an "Annual," a species
of literary composition which has lately been made very popular and
amusing.
These volumes have now become extremely scarce, for which, and
other reasons, I have thought it right to place Davy's productions
on record in these memoirs; for although they are marked by the
common faults of youthful poets, they still bear the stamp of lofty
genius. There is, besides, a vein of philosophical contemplation
running through their composition, which may be considered as
indicating the future character and pursuit of their author; an
ardent aspiration after fame seems, even at this early period, to
have been felt in all its force, and is expressed in many striking
and beautiful passages.
There is still a higher motive by which I am induced to introduce
these specimens into my memoir, that of showing the bias of his
genius at this early period, with a view to compare it with that
which displayed itself in the "last days of the philosopher." We
shall find that the bright and rosy hues of fancy which gilded the
morning of his life, and were subdued or chased away by the more
resplendent light of maturer age, again glowed forth in the evening
of his days, and illumined the setting, as they had the dawning of
his genius.
His first production bears the date of 1795, and is entitled
THE SONS OF GENIUS.
Bright bursting through the awful veil of night
The lunar beams upon the Ocean play,
The watery billows shine with trembling light,
Where the swift breezes skim along the sea.
The glimmering stars in yon ethereal plain
Grow pale, and fade before the lucid beams,
Save where fair Venus, shining o'er the main
Conspicuous, still with fainter radiance gleams.
Clear is the azure firmament above,
Save where the white cloud floats upon the breeze,
All tranquil is the bosom of the grove,
Save where the Zephyr warbles through the trees.
Now the poor shepherd wandering to his home
Surveys the darkening scene with fearful eye,
On every green sees little elfins roam,
And haggard sprites along the moonbeams fly.
While Superstition rules the vulgar soul,
Forbids the energies of man to rise,
Raised far above her low, her mean controul,
Aspiring Genius seeks her native skies.
She loves the silent solitary hours,
She loves the stillness of the starry night,
When o'er the brightening view Selene pours
The soft effulgence of her pensive light.
'Tis then disturb'd not by the glare of day;
To mild tranquillity alone resign'd,
Reason extends her animating sway
O'er the calm empire of the peaceful mind.
Before her lucid, all-enlightening ray,
The pallid spectres of the Night retire,
She drives the gloomy terrors far away,
And fills the bosom with celestial fire.
Inspired by her, the Sons of Genius rise
Above all earthly thoughts, all vulgar care;
Wealth, power, and grandeur they alike despise,
Enraptured by the good, the great, the fair.
A thousand varying joys to them belong--
The charms of Nature and her changeful scenes;
Their's is the music of the vernal song,
And their's the colours of the vernal plains.
Their's is the purple-tinged evening ray,
With all the radiance of the morning sky;
Their's is the splendour of the risen day,
Enshrined in glory by the sun's bright eye.
For them the Zephyr fans the odorous gale,
For them the warbling streamlet softly flows,
For them the Dryads shade the verdant vale,
To them sweet Philomel attunes her woes.
To them no wakeful moonbeam shines in vain
On the dark bosom of the trackless wood,
Sheds its mild radiance o'er the desert plain,
Or softly glides along the chrystal flood.
Yet not alone delight the soft and fair,
Alike the grander scenes of Nature move;
Yet not alone her beauties claim their care,
The great, sublime, and terrible, they love.
The Sons of Nature, they alike delight
In the rough precipice's broken steep,
In the black terrors of the stormy night,
And in the thunders of the threatening deep.
When the red lightnings through the ether fly,
And the white foaming billows lash the shores;
When to the rattling thunders of the sky
The angry Demon of the waters roars;
And when, untouch'd by Nature's living fires,
No native rapture fills the drowsy soul;
Then former ages, with their tuneful lyres,
Can bid the fury of the passions fall.
By the blue taper's melancholy light,
Whilst all around the midnight torrents pour,
And awful glooms beset the face of Night,
They wear the silent solitary hour.
Ah, then, how sweet to pass the night away
In silent converse with the Grecian page!
Whilst Homer tunes his ever-living lay,
Or reason listens to th' Athenian sage;
To scan the laws of Nature, to explore
The tranquil reign of mild Philosophy;
Or on Newtonian wings sublime to soar
Through the bright regions of the starry sky.
Ah! who can paint what raptures fill the soul
When Attic Freedom rises to the war,
Bids the loud thunders of the battle roll,
And drives the tyrant trembling from her shore!
From these pursuits the Sons of Genius scan
The end of their creation; hence they know
The fair, sublime, immortal hopes of man,
From whence alone undying pleasures glow.
By Science calm'd, over the peaceful soul,
Bright with eternal Wisdom's lucid ray,
Peace, meek of eye, extends her soft controul,
And drives the fury Passions far away.
Virtue, the daughter of the skies supreme,
Directs their life, informs their glowing lays--
A steady friend; her animating beam
Sheds its soft lustre o'er their latter days.
When life's warm fountains feel the frost of time;
When the cold dews of darkness close their eyes,
She shows the parting soul, upraised sublime,
The brighter glories of her kindred skies.
Thus the pale Moon, whose pure celestial light
Has chased the gloomy clouds of Heaven away,
Rests her white cheek, with silver radiance bright,
On the soft bosom of the Western sea.
Lost in the glowing wave, her radiance dies;
Yet, while she sinks, she points her ling'ring ray
To the bright azure of the orient skies--
To the fair dawning of the glorious day.
Like the tumultuous billows of the sea
Succeed the generations of mankind;
Some in oblivious silence pass away,
And leave no vestige of their lives behind.
Others, like those proud waves which beat the shore,
A loud and momentary murmur raise;
But soon their transient glories are no more,--
No future ages echo with their praise.
Like yon proud rocks amidst the sea of time,
Superior, scorning all the billows' rage,
The living Sons of Genius stand sublime,
Th' immortal children of another age.
For those exist whose pure ethereal minds,
Imbibing portions of celestial day,
Scorn all terrestrial cares, all mean designs,
As bright-eyed eagles scorn the lunar ray.
Their's is the glory of a lasting name,
The meed of Genius and her living fires,
Their's is the laurel of eternal fame,
And their's the sweetness of the Muse's lyres.
D.--1795.
THE SONG OF PLEASURE.
The genial influence of the day
Had chased the lingering cold away;
Borne upon the Zephyr's wing,
Sweetly smiled the radiant Spring:
Her mild re-animating breath
Wakes Nature from her wintry death;
Attended by the laughing Hours,
She rises clad in flowers,
And lightly as she trips along,
The vernal warblers raise the song.
Rich in a thousand radiant dyes,
Around her steps the flow'rets rise,
The Zephyr sports, the sunbeams sleep
On the blue bosom of the deep.
And now, within my throbbing breast
I feel the influence of the Spring,
To ecstasy I tune my string,
And garlanded with odorous flowers,
I hasted to the shady grove,
I hasted to the roseate bowers
Where Pleasure dwells with Love.
There Youth, and Love, and Beauty, bound
The glowing rose my harp around;
Then to the daughter of Desire,
To bright-eyed Pleasure gave the lyre:
She tuned the string,
And smiling softer than the rosy sea,
When the young Morning blushes on her breast,
She raised the raptured lay,
I heard her sing,
The song lull'd every care and every thought to rest.
Sons of Nature, hither haste,
The blessings of existence taste;
Listen to my friendly lay,
And your cares shall fly away,
Quick as fly the wintry snows
When the vernal Zephyr blows.
Let others, courting war's alarms,
Seek the bloody field of arms;
Let others, with undaunted soul,
Bid Bellona's thunders roll;
From the lightnings of their eye
Let the trembling squadrons fly;
Sons of Nature, you shall prove
A softer fight, the fight of love.
While you in soft repose are laid
Underneath the myrtle shade,
Amid the murky glooms of Death,
The sons of battle pant for breath.
Let the philosophic sage,
His silver tresses white with age,
Amid the chilling midnight damp,
Waste the solitary lamp,
To scan the laws of Nature o'er,
The paths of Science to explore;
Curb'd beneath his harsh controul
The blissful Passions fly the soul.
You, the gentler sons of joy,
Softer studies shall employ!
He to curb the Passions tries,
You shall bid them all arise;
His wants he wishes to destroy,
You shall all your wants enjoy.
Let the laurel, Virtue's meed,
Crown his age-besilver'd head,
The verdant laurel ever grows
Amid the sullen Winter's snows:
Let the rose, the flower of bliss,
The soft unwrinkled temples kiss;
Fann'd by the Zephyr's balmy wing,
The odorous rose adorns the Spring.
Let the Patriot die, to raise
A lasting monument of praise.
Ah, fool, to tear the glowing rose
From the mirth-encircled brows,
That around his dusky tomb
The ever-verdant bay may bloom!
Let Ambition's sons alone
Bow around the tottering throne,
Fly at Glory's splendid rays,
And, moth-like, die amidst a blaze;
You shall bow, and bow alone,
Before delicious Beauty's throne.
Lo! Theora treads the green,
All breathing grace and harmony she moves,
Fair as the mother of the Loves.
In graceful ringlets floats her golden hair;
From the bright azure of her eye
Expression's liquid lightnings fly.
Her cheek is fair,
Fair as the lily, when, at dawning day,
Tinged with the morning's bright and purple ray,
Yonder scented groves among
She will listen to your song.
In yonder bower where roses bloom,
Where the myrtle breathes perfume,
You shall at your ease recline,
And sip the soul-enlivening wine;
There the lyre, with melting lay,
Shall bid the soul dissolve away.
Soft as the Morning sheds her purple light
Through the dark azure of the Night,
So soft the God of slumber sheds
His roseate dews around your heads.
Such the blessings I bestow!
Haste, my sons, these blessings know!
Behold the flow'rets of the Spring,
They wanton in the Zephyr's wing,
They drink the matin ether blue,
They sip the fragrant evening dew.
Man is but a short-lived flower,
His bloom but for a changeful hour!
Pass a little time away,
The rosy cheek is turn'd to clay:
No living joys, no transports burn
In the dark sepulchral urn,
No _Laurels_ crown the fleshless brows,
They fade together with the _Rose_.
D.--1796.
ODE TO SAINT MICHAEL'S MOUNT, IN CORNWALL.
The sober eve with purple bright
Sheds o'er the hills her tranquil light
In many a lingering ray;
The radiance trembles on the deep,
Where rises rough thy rugged steep,
Old Michael, from the sea.
Around thy base, in azure pride,
Flows the silver-crested tide,
In gently winding waves;
The Zephyr creeps thy cliffs around,--
Thy cliffs, with whispering ivy crown'd,
And murmurs in thy caves.
Majestic steep! Ah, yet I love,
With many a lingering step, to rove
Thy ivied rocks among;
Thy ivied, wave-beat rocks recall
The former pleasures of my soul,
When life was gay and young.
Enthusiasm, Nature's child,
Here sung to me her wood-songs wild,
All warm with native fire;
I felt her soul-awakening flame,
It bade my bosom burn for fame,--
It bade me strike the lyre.
Soft as the Morning sheds her light
Through the dark azure of the Night
Along the tranquil sea;
So soft the bright-eyed Fancy shed
Her rapturing dreams around my head,
And drove my cares away.
When the white Moon with glory crown'd,
The azure of the sky around,
Her silver radiance shed;
When shone the waves with trembling light,
And slept the lustre palely bright
Upon thy tower-clad head;
Then BEAUTY bade my pleasure flow,--
Then BEAUTY bade my bosom glow,
With mild and gentle fire!
Then Mirth, and Cheerfulness, and Love,
Around my soul were wont to move,
And thrill'd upon my lyre.
But when the Demon of the deep
Howl'd around thy rocky steep,
And bade the tempests rise,--
Bade the white foaming billows roar,
And murmuring dash the rocky shore,
And mingle with the skies;
Ah, then my soul was raised on high,
And felt the glow of ecstasy,
With _great_ emotions fill'd;
Thus Joy and Terror reign'd by turns,
And now with LOVE the bosom burns,
And now by FEAR is chill'd.
Thus to the sweetest dreams resign'd,
The fairy FANCY ruled my mind,
And shone upon my youth;
But now, to awful Reason given,
I leave her dear ideal heaven
To hear the voice of TRUTH.
She claims my best, my loftiest song,
She leads a brighter maid along--
DIVINE PHILOSOPHY,
Who bids the mounting soul assume
Immortal Wisdom's eagle plume,
And penetrating eye,
Above Delusion's dusky maze,
Above deceitful Fancy's ways,
With roses clad to rise;
To view a gleam of purest light
Bursting through Nature's misty night,--
The radiance of the skies.
D.--1796.
THE TEMPEST.
The Tempest has darken'd the face of the skies,
The winds whistle wildly across the waste plain,
The Fiends of the whirlwind terrific arise,
And mingle the clouds with the white-foaming main.
All dark is the night, and all gloomy the shore,
Save when the red lightnings the ether divide,
Then follows the thunder with loud-sounding roar,
And echoes in concert the billowy tide.
But though now all is murky and shaded with gloom,
Hope, the soother, soft whispers the tempests shall cease;
Then Nature again in her beauty shall bloom,
And enamour'd embrace the fair sweet-smiling Peace;
For the bright-blushing morning, all rosy with light,
Shall convey on her wings the Creator of day;
He shall drive all the tempests and terrors of night,
And Nature enliven'd, again shall be gay.
Then the warblers of Spring shall attune the soft lay,
And again the bright flow'ret shall blush in the vale;
On the breast of the Ocean the Zephyr shall play,
And the sunbeam shall sleep on the hill and the dale.
If the tempests of Nature so soon sink to rest--
If her once-faded beauties so soon glow again,
Shall Man be for ever by tempests oppress'd,
By the tempests of passion, of sorrow, and pain?
Ah, no! for his passions and sorrow shall cease
When the troublesome fever of life shall be o'er;
In the night of the grave he shall slumber in peace,
And passion and sorrow shall vex him no more.
And shall not this night and its long dismal gloom,
Like the night of the tempest, again pass away?
Yes! the dust of the earth in bright beauty shall bloom,
And rise to the morning of heavenly day!
D.--1796.
EXTRACT FROM AN UNFINISHED POEM ON MOUNT'S BAY.
Mild blows the Zephyr o'er the Ocean dark,
The Zephyr wafting the grey twilight clouds
Across the waves, to drink the solar rays
And blush with purple.
By the orient gleam
Whitening the foam of the blue wave that breaks
Around his granite feet, but dimly seen,
Majestic Michael rises. He whose brow
Is crown'd with castles, and whose rocky sides
Are clad with dusky ivy: he whose base,
Beat by the storm of ages, stands unmoved
Amidst the wreck of things, the change of time.
That base encircled by the azure waves,
Was once with verdure clad: the tow'ring oaks
There waved their branches green,--the sacred oaks
Whose awful shades among, the Druids stray'd
To cut the hallow'd miseltoe, and hold
High converse with their Gods.
On yon rough crag,
Where the wild Tamarisk whistles to the sea blast,
The Druid's harp was heard, swept by the breeze
To softest music, or to grander tones
Awaken'd by the awful master's hand.
Those tones shall sound no more! the rushing waves,
Raised from the vast Atlantic, have o'erwhelm'd
The sacred groves. And deep the Druids lie
In the dark mist-clad sea of former time.
Ages had pass'd away, the stony altar
Was white with moss, when on its rugged base
Dire Superstition raised the gothic fane,
And monks and priests existed.
On the sea
The sunbeams tremble; and the purple light
Illumes the dark Bolerium,[10] seat of storms.
High are his granite rocks. His frowning brow
Hangs o'er the smiling Ocean. In his caves
Th' Atlantic breezes murmur. In his caves,
Where sleep the haggard Spirits of the storm,
Wild dreary are the _schistine_[11] rocks around
Encircled by the wave, where to the breeze
The haggard Cormorant shrieks. And far beyond
Are seen the cloud-like Islands, grey in mists.[12]
Thy awful height, Bolerium, is not loved
By busy Man, and no one wanders there
Save he who follows Nature,--he who seeks
Amidst thy crags and storm-beat rocks to find
The marks of changes teaching the great laws
That raised the globe from chaos; or he whose soul
Is warm with fire poetic,--he who feels
When Nature smiles in beauty, or sublime
Rises in majesty,--he who can stand
Unawed upon thy summit, clad in tempests,
And view with raptured mind the roaring deep
Rise o'er thy foam-clad base, while the black cloud
Bursts with the fire of Heaven--
He whose heart
Is warm with love and mercy,--he whose eye
Drops the bright tear when anxious Fancy paints
Upon his mind the image of the Maid,
The blue-eyed Maid who died beneath thy surge.
Where yon dark cliff[13] o'ershadows the blue main,
THEORA died amidst the stormy waves,
And on its feet the sea-dews wash'd her corpse,
And the wild breath of storms shook her black locks.
Young was THEORA; bluer was her eye
Than the bright azure of the moonlight night;
Fair was her cheek as is the ocean cloud
Red with the morning ray.
Amidst the groves,
And greens, and nodding rocks that overhang
The grey Killarney, pass'd her morning days
Bright with the beams of joy.
To solitude,
To Nature, and to God, she gave her youth;
Hence were her passions tuned to harmony.
Her azure eye oft glisten'd with the tear
Of sensibility, and her soft cheek
Glow'd with the blush of rapture. Hence, she loved
To wander 'midst the green-wood, silver'd o'er
By the bright moonbeam. Hence, she loved the rocks
Crown'd with the nodding ivy, and the lake
Fair with the purple morning, and the sea
Expansive mingling with the arched sky.
Kindled by Genius, in her bosom glow'd
The sacred fire of Freedom. Hence, she scorn'd
The narrow laws of custom that control
Her feeble sex. Great in her energies,
She roam'd the fields of Nature, scann'd the laws
That move the ruling atoms, changing still,
Still rising into life. Her eagle eye,
Piercing the blue immensity of space,
Held converse with the lucid sons of Heaven,
The day-stars of creation, or pursued
The dusky planets rolling round the Sun,
And drinking in his radiance light and life.
Such was the Maiden! Such was she who fled
Her native shores.
Dark in the midnight cloud,
When the wild blast upon its pinions bore
The dying shrieks of Erin's injured sons,[14]
She 'scaped the murderer's arm.
The British bark
Bore her across the ocean. From the West
The whirlwind rose, the fire-fraught clouds of Heaven
Were mingled with the wave. The shatter'd bark
Sunk at thy feet, Bolerium, and the white surge
Closed on green Erin's daughter.
[10] The Land's End in Cornwall.
[11] The granite of Cornwall is generally found incumbent on
primitive _schistus_. This is the case in many of the cliffs at
the Land's End. The upper stratum is composed of granite, the
lower with the surrounding rocks of _schistus_. D.
[12] The Islands of Scilly.
[13] A rock near the Land's End, called the 'Irish Lady.'
[14] The Irish Lady was shipwrecked at the Land's End, about the
time of the massacre of the Irish Protestants by the Catholics,
in the reign of Charles the First.
That the Genius who presided over the destinies of Davy should
have torn him from these flowery regions of Fancy, and condemned
him to labour in the dusky caverns of the mineral kingdom, has
furnished a fruitful theme of lamentation to the band of Poets,
and to those who prefer the amusements to the profits of life, and
who cherish the hallucinations of the imagination rather than the
truths of science. If, however, we regret that Davy's Muse, like
Proserpine, should have been thus violently seized, and carried off
to the lower regions, as she was weaving her native wild flowers
into a garland, we may console ourselves in knowing that, like the
daughter of Ceres, she also obtained the privilege of occasionally
revisiting her native bowers; for it will appear in the course of
these memoirs, that in the intervals of more abstruse studies, Davy
not unfrequently amused himself with poetical composition. But, in
sober truth, is it possible that any reasonable being can regret
the course in which he has been impelled? A great poetic Genius has
said, "If Davy had not been the first Chemist, he would have been
the first Poet of his age." Upon this question I do not feel myself
a competent judge: but where is the modern Esau who would exchange
his Bakerian Lecture for a poem, though it should equal in design
and execution the PARADISE LOST?
As far as can be ascertained, one of the first original experiments
in Chemistry performed by him at Penzance, was for the purpose of
discovering the quality of the air contained in the bladders of
sea-weed, in order to obtain results in support of a favourite
theory of light; and to ascertain whether, as land vegetables are
the renovators of the atmosphere of land-animals, sea-vegetables
might not be the preservers of the equilibrium of the atmosphere of
the ocean. From these experiments he concluded, that the different
orders of the marine _Cryptogamia_ were capable of decomposing
water, when assisted by the attraction of light for oxygen.
His instruments, however, were of the rudest description,
manufactured by himself out of the motley materials which chance
threw in his way; the pots and pans of the kitchen, and even the
more sacred vessels and professional instruments of the surgery,
were without the least hesitation or remorse put in requisition.
While upon this subject, I will relate an anecdote which was
communicated to me by my late venerable friend Mr. Thomas
Giddy.[15] A French vessel having been wrecked off the Land's
End, the surgeon escaped, and found his way to Penzance; accident
brought him acquainted with Humphry Davy, who showed him many
civilities, and in return received, as a present from the surgeon,
a case of instruments which had been saved from the ship. The
contents were eagerly turned out and examined by the young chemist,
not, however, with any professional view as to their utility,
but in order to ascertain how far they might be convertible to
experimental purposes. The old-fashioned and clumsy glyster
apparatus was viewed with exultation, and seized in triumph!--What
reverses may not be suddenly effected by a simple accident! so
says the moralist. Reader, behold an illustration:--in the brief
space of an hour, did this long-neglected and unobtrusive machine,
emerging from its obscurity and insignificance, figure away in all
the pomp and glory of a complicated piece of pneumatic apparatus:
nor did its fortunes end here; it was destined for greater things;
and we shall hereafter learn that it actually performed the duties
of an air-pump, in an original experiment on the nature and sources
of heat. The most humble means may certainly accomplish the highest
ends: the filament of a spider's web has been used to measure the
motions of the stars; and a kite, made with two cross sticks and
a silk handkerchief, enabled the chemical Prometheus to rob the
thunder-cloud of its lightnings; but that a worn-out instrument,
such as has been just described, should have furnished him who was
born to revolutionize the science of the age, with the only means
of enquiry at that time within his reach, affords, it must be
admitted, a very whimsical illustration of our maxim.
[15] I cannot allude to this name, without paying a tribute of
respect to the memory of one who, for more than half a century,
practised the profession of a surgeon in Penzance with as much
credit to himself, as advantage to his neighbourhood.
Nor can we pass over these circumstances, without observing how
materially they must have influenced the subsequent success of
Davy as an experimentalist. Had he, at the commencement of his
career, been furnished with all those appliances which he enjoyed
at a later period, it is more than probable that he might never
have acquired that wonderful tact of manipulation, that ability of
suggesting expedients, and of contriving apparatus so as to meet
and surmount the difficulties which must ever beset the philosopher
in the unbeaten tracks of Science. In this art, he certainly
stands unrivalled, and, like his prototype Scheele,[16] or that
pioneer of pneumatic experimentalists, Dr. Priestley,[17] he was
unquestionably indebted for his address to the circumstances above
related. There never, perhaps, was a more striking exemplification
of the adage, that "necessity is the parent of invention."
[16] Bergman, Professor of Upsal, was informed of a young man who
resided in the house of an apothecary, and who was reproached
for neglecting the duties of his profession, while he devoted
the whole of his time to Chemistry. Bergman's curiosity was
excited; he paid him a visit, and was astonished at the knowledge
he displayed, and at the profound researches in which he was
engaged, notwithstanding the poverty under which he laboured, and
the restraint under which his situation placed him. He encouraged
his ardour, and made him his friend. This young man was the
celebrated _Scheele_.
[17] No man ever entered upon an undertaking with less apparent
means of success, than did Priestley upon that of Chemistry.
He neither possessed apparatus, nor the money to procure it.
These circumstances, which at first sight seem so adverse, were
in reality those which contributed to his ultimate success.
The branch of Chemistry he selected was new; an apparatus had
to be invented before any important step could be taken; and
as simplicity is essential in every research, he was likely to
contrive the best whose circumstances obliged him to attend to
economy.
It would however appear that, imperfect as must have been his
apparatus, and limited as were his resources, his ambition very
early led him to the investigation of the most abstruse and
recondite phenomena. He was not more than seventeen when he formed
a strong opinion adverse to the general belief in the existence of
_caloric_, or the materiality of heat.
As I shall hereafter have occasion to draw a parallel between the
intellectual qualities of Davy, and those of the celebrated Dr.
Black, the father of modern chemistry, it may not be irrelevant to
state, in this place, that the subject of heat was also amongst
the first that attracted the attention of this latter philosopher;
indeed, he tells us himself, that he "can scarcely remember the
time, when he had not some idea of the disagreement of facts with
the commonly received doctrines upon this subject." The tendency
of his mind, however, was in direct opposition to that of Davy's,
for he insisted upon the materiality of heat, and was the first
to conceive the bold idea of its being capable, like any other
substance, of entering into chemical combination with various
bodies, and of thus losing its characteristic qualities.
Black's theory could not be more opposed to that of Davy than
was his conduct upon the occasion; for, although an experiment
suggested itself to his mind, by which, as he thought, he could
at once establish the truth of his favourite doctrine, he delayed
performing it, because there did not happen to be an ice-house
in the town in which he lived. With Davy, on the other hand, the
conception and execution of an experiment were nearly simultaneous:
no sooner, therefore, had he formed his opinion, than his eager
spirit urged him to put it to the test.
Having procured a piece of clock-work, so contrived as to be
set to work in an exhausted receiver, he added two horizontal
plates of brass; the upper one, carrying a small metallic cup
to be filled with ice, revolved in contact with the lower one.
The whole machine, resting on a plate of ice, was covered by a
glass receiver, and the air was exhausted by the very syringe,
ingeniously modified for the purpose, with which the reader has
already been made acquainted: for, as yet, he had no air-pump, and,
what is still more worthy of notice, had never even seen one! The
machine was now set in motion, when the ice in the small cup was
soon observed to melt; whence he inferred that this effect could
alone proceed from vibratory motion, since the whole apparatus was
insulated from all accession of material heat, by the frozen mass
below, and by the vacuum around it.
The experiment was afterwards repeated with greater care, and by
means of a more refined apparatus: it was modified in different
ways; and the results were ultimately published in an Essay, to be
hereafter noticed, "On Heat, Light, and the Combinations of Light,"
which appeared in a provincial collection of tracts, edited by Dr.
Beddoes, at Bristol.
Mr. Davies Gilbert, in describing the above experiment in his late
address to the Royal Society, very justly observed that it does
not at all decide the important matter in dispute, with respect to
an ethereal or transcendental fluid; but that few young men remote
from the society of persons conversant with science, will present
themselves, who are capable of devising any thing so ingenious.
Dr. Henry, in a paper published in the "Memoirs of the Manchester
Society," on entering into a review of this and similar
experiments, very truly states, that the mode of insulation is not
only imperfect, but that, according to Count Rumford, caloric will
even pass through a Torricellian vacuum.
The most prominent circumstance in the history of this period of
Davy's life, is his introduction to Mr. Davies Giddy, now Mr.
Gilbert, the late distinguished and popular President of the
Royal Society. The manner in which this happened is as curious as
its result was important; and it furnishes another very striking
illustration of the power of simple accident in directing our
destinies. Mr. Gilbert's attention was attracted to the future
philosopher, as he was carelessly swinging over the hatch, or half
gate, of Mr. Borlase's house, by the humorous contortions into
which he threw his features. Davy, it may be remarked, when a boy,
possessed a countenance which, even in its natural state, was very
far from comely, while his round shoulders, inharmonious voice, and
insignificant manner, were calculated to produce any thing rather
than a favourable impression: in riper years, he was what might be
called "good-looking," although, as a wit of the day observed, his
aspect was certainly of the "Bucolic" character. The change which
his person underwent, after his promotion to the Royal Institution,
was so rapid, that, in the days of Herodotus, it would have been
attributed to nothing less than the miraculous interposition of
the Priestesses of Helen. A person, who happened to be walking
with Mr. Gilbert upon the occasion alluded to, observed that
the extraordinary-looking boy in question was young Davy, the
Carver's son, who, he added, was said to be fond of making chemical
experiments. "Chemical experiments!" exclaimed Mr. Gilbert, with
much surprise: "if that be the case, I must have some conversation
with him." Mr. Gilbert, as we all know, possesses a strong
perception of character, and he therefore soon discovered ample
evidence of the boy's singular genius. After several interviews,
which confirmed him in the opinion he had formed, he offered
young Humphry the use of his library, or any other assistance that
he might require for the pursuit of his studies; and at the same
time gave him an invitation to his house at Tredrea, of which he
frequently availed himself.
During one of his visits, Mr. Gilbert accompanied him to Hayle
Copper-House, and introduced him to Dr. Edwards, a gentleman
afterwards known to the medical profession as the chemical
lecturer in the school of St. Bartholomew's Hospital; at the time,
however, alluded to, he resided at Copper-House with his father,
and possessed a well-appointed laboratory. The tumultuous delight
which Davy expressed on seeing, for the first time, a quantity
of chemical apparatus, hitherto only known to him through the
medium of engravings, is described by Mr. Gilbert as surpassing
all description. The air-pump more especially fixed his attention,
and he worked its piston, exhausted the receiver, and opened its
valves, with the simplicity and joy of a child engaged in the
examination of a new and favourite toy.
It is a curious circumstance, that the phenomena resulting from the
contact of iron and copper, in the investigation of which Davy was
destined to perform so prominent a part, were very early noticed
by Mr. Edwards in this place; who found that the flood-gates in
the Port of Hayle decayed with a rapidity wholly inexplicable,
but upon the supposition of some _chemical_ action between the
metals which had not yet been clearly explained. How little did Mr.
Edwards imagine that the fact, which had so powerfully excited his
curiosity, would become to the youth before him, a future source of
rich and honourable discovery!
During the following year, an event occurred which contributed,
in no small degree, to the advancement of Davy's prospects. Mr.
Gregory Watt, who had long been in a declining state of health,
was recommended by his physicians to reside for some time in the
West of England, and he accordingly proceeded at once to Penzance,
and took up his abode, as a lodger and boarder, in the house of
Mrs. Davy. It may be supposed that two kindred spirits would not
be long in contracting an acquaintance with each other; in fact,
an intimacy of the warmest nature did ultimately grow up between
them, and continue to the very moment of Mr. Watt's premature
dissolution: the origin and progress of their friendship, however,
are too curious to be passed over without some notice.
Mr. Gregory Watt possessed a warm and affectionate heart; but
there was a solemn, aristocratic coldness in his manner, which
repulsed every approach to familiarity. Davy, it has been already
stated, did not at that time possess any of those qualifications,
in person or manner, which are calculated to produce favourable
prepossessions. It may, therefore, be readily imagined how Mr.
Watt must have felt, on finding the son of his landlady familiarly
addressing him on subjects of metaphysics and poetry. By one of
those strange perversions which have so frequently led great men
to conceal the peculiarity of their talents, and to rest their
claims to notice and respect upon qualifications which they
possessed only in an inferior degree, Davy sought to ingratiate
himself with Mr. Watt by metaphysical discussions; but, instead
of the admiration, he excited the disgust of his hearer. It was
by mere accident that an allusion was first made to chemistry,
when Davy flippantly observed, that he would undertake to demolish
the French theory in half an hour. He had touched the chord: the
interest of Mr. Watt was excited,--he conversed with Davy upon his
chemical pursuits,--he was at once astonished and delighted at his
sagacity,--the barrier of ice was removed, and they became attached
friends.
Mr. Wedgwood, and his brother Thomas, also spent a winter at
Penzance; and I have reason to believe that their friendship was of
substantial benefit to Davy.
Before I attend the progress of our philosopher to the next
scene of life, or proceed to detail the circumstances connected
with his departure from Penzance, I must relate the following
anecdote.--Until the formation of the Geological Society of
London occasioned the introduction of more extended and sounder
views into the science, geologists were divided into two great
rival sects,--into Neptunists and Plutonists: the one affirming
that the globe was exclusively indebted for its present form and
arrangement to the agency of water; the other, admitting to a
certain extent the operation of water, but maintaining the utter
impossibility of explaining the consolidation of the strata without
the intervention of fire. Every geologist felt bound to side with
the one or the other of these contending parties, for neutrality
was held as disgraceful as though the law of Solon had been in
active operation. I shall not easily forget the din and fury of
this elemental war, as it raged in Edinburgh when I was a student
in that University; even the mineral dealers, who, like the
artisans of a neutral city, sold arms and ammunition to both sides,
still defended their own opinions with party fury. It was amusing
to observe the triumph and dismay which, by turns, animated and
depressed each side, as the discovery of a new fact, or a fresh
specimen, appeared to give a preponderance to the doctrine of fire
or water. The fact of so large a portion of the strata being found
in the state of a carbonate was advanced by the Neptunists as an
unanswerable argument against igneous agency: the dismay therefore
which this sect received upon the discovery of Sir James Hall,
that under the combined forces of heat and compression, carbonate
of lime might be fused, was only equalled by the excessive joy
excited in the contending party. We may form some notion of the
high importance attached to this discovery, when we learn that its
author applied to the Government for a flag of truce to convey
illustrative specimens to the Continental philosophers.
It so happened, that the Professors of Oxford and Cambridge ranged
themselves under opposite banners: Dr. Beddoes was a violent and
uncompromising Plutonist, while Professor Hailstone was as decided
a Neptunist. The rocks of Cornwall, and their granitic veins, had
been appealed to, as affording evidence upon the subject; and the
two Professors, who, although adverse in opinion, were united
in friendship, determined to proceed together to the field of
dispute, each hoping that he might thus convince the other of
his error, and cure him of his heresy. The belligerents arrived
at Penzance, and in company with their mutual friend, Mr. Davies
Gilbert, examined the coast, and procured specimens with pretty
much the same spirit of selection as a schoolboy consults his
Gradus, not for an epithet of any meaning, but for one which best
suits his measure; and having made drawings, disputed obvious
appearances, rendered that which was clear to the senses, confused
to the understanding, and what was already confused, ten times
more obscure, they returned, the opinion of each, as might easily
have been anticipated, having been strengthened by the ordeal:
the one protesting that the very aspect of the shivered slate was
sufficient to prove that the globe must have been roasted to rags;
the other, with equal plausibility, declaring that there was not a
tittle of evidence to show that the watery solvent had ever even
simmered. Such, in fact, must ever be the case, when philosophers
examine the same subject under such different impressions, and in
such opposite points of view; like the two knights who could not
agree respecting the colour of the shield, only because each saw a
different side of it.
Rocks, it is said, have flinty hearts, and certain it is that, upon
this occasion, Cornwall did not afford that assistance against the
Neptunists, which the Oxford Professor had sought with so much zeal
and confidence; but if deferred revenge had, as we are told is
generally the case, been put out at compound interest, and Beddoes
had exacted its dues with more than judaical rigour, it must be
allowed that Cornwall, by placing Davy at his disposal, would have
fully cancelled all demands.
Plutonian Beddoes, erst, in spiteful ire,
To see a _Hailstone_ mock his central fire,
A mighty spirit raised, by whose device
We now burn HAILSTONES, and set fire to Ice.
Before quitting this subject, it is but justice to advert to the
progress which Geology has made since the turbulence of this
contest has subsided; it has grown strong in facts, and is daily
increasing its stores. It has been wisely said by one of the
ancient Poets, that in vehement disputes, not only the persons
engaged, but every one who is at all interested, must suffer; not
only the combatants, but the spectators of the combat,--for it
is difficult to apprehend truth while it is the subject of angry
contest.
To return to the narrative.--Upon Beddoes establishing the
"Pneumatic Institution" at Bristol, he required an assistant who
might superintend the necessary experiments in the laboratory;
and Mr. Gilbert proposed Davy as a person fully competent to fill
the situation. The young candidate had already produced a very
favourable impression upon Dr. Beddoes, by his experiments upon
Heat and Light, which he had some time before transmitted to him
through the hands of his friend Mr. Gregory Watt. This fact may
be collected from a note appended by Dr. Beddoes to Davy's paper
subsequently published in the first volume of the West Country
Contributions, in which the Doctor says, "My first knowledge of
Mr. Davy arose from a letter written in April 1798, containing an
account of his researches on Heat and Light." The rest is told in
the letters which passed on this occasion between Dr. Beddoes and
Mr. Gilbert, and from which I shall make such extracts as may be
necessary to complete the history of a transaction of much interest
and importance.
In a letter dated July 4, 1798, Dr. Beddoes says, "I am glad that
Mr. Davy has impressed you as he has me. I have long wished to
write to you about him, for I think I can open a more fruitful
field of investigation than any body else. Is it not also his
most direct road to fortune? Should he not bring out a favourable
result, he may still exhibit talents for investigation, and entitle
himself to public confidence more effectually than by any other
mode. He must be maintained, but the fund will not furnish a salary
from which a man can lay up any thing. He must also devote his
time for two or three years to the investigation. I wish you would
converse with him upon the subject. No doubt he has received my two
last letters. I am sorry I cannot at this moment specify a yearly
sum, nor can I say with certainty whether all the subscribers will
accede to my plan; most of them will, I doubt not. I have written
to the principal ones, and will lose no time in sounding them all."
In a second letter of the 18th of July, we find the following
observations. "I have received a letter from Mr. Davy since I wrote
to you. He has oftener than once mentioned a _genteel maintenance_,
as a preliminary to his being employed to superintend the
Pneumatic Hospital. I fear the funds will not allow an ample
salary; he must, however, be maintained. I can attach no idea to
the epithet _genteel_, but perhaps all difficulties would vanish
in conversation; at least, I think your conversing with Mr. Davy
will be a more likely way of smoothing difficulties, than our
correspondence. It appears to me, that this appointment will bear
to be considered as a part of Mr. Davy's medical education, and
that it will be a great saving of expense to him. It may also be
the foundation of a lucrative reputation; and certainly nothing
on my part shall be wanting to secure to him the credit he may
deserve. He does not undertake to discover cures for this or that
disease; he may acquire just applause by bringing out clear, though
negative results. During my journeys into the country, I have
picked up a variety of important and curious facts from different
practitioners. This has suggested to me the idea of collecting and
publishing such facts as this part of the country will, from time
to time, afford. If I could procure chemical experiments, that bore
any relation to organised nature, I would insert them. If Mr. Davy
does not dislike this method of publishing his experiments, I would
gladly place them at the head of my first volume, but I wish not
that he should make any sacrifice of judgment or inclination."
It remains only to be stated, that Mr. Gilbert kindly undertook
the negotiation, and completed it to the satisfaction of all the
principal parties. Mrs. Davy yielded to her son's wishes, and
Mr. Borlase very generously surrendered his indenture, with an
endorsement to the following effect,--that he freely gave up the
indenture, on account of the singularly promising talents which Mr.
Davy had displayed.
His old and valued friend Mr. Tonkin, however, not only expressed
his disapprobation of this scheme, but was so vexed and irritated
at having his favourite plan of fixing Davy in his native town as
a Surgeon, thus thwarted, that he actually altered his will, and
revoked the legacy of his house which he had previously bequeathed
him. Mr. Tonkin died on the 24th of December 1801; so that,
although he lived long enough to witness Davy's appointment to the
Royal Institution, he could never have anticipated the elevation to
which his genius and talents ultimately raised him.
On the 2nd of October in the year 1798, Davy quitted Penzance,
before he had attained his twentieth year. Mr. Gilbert well
remembers meeting him upon his journey to Bristol, and breakfasting
with him at Okehampton, on the 4th of October. He was in the
highest spirits, and in that frame of mind in which a man of ardent
imagination identifies every successful occurrence with his own
fortunes; his exhilaration, therefore, was not a little heightened
by the arrival of the mail-coach from London, covered with laurels
and ribbons, and bringing the news, so cheering to every English
heart, of NELSON'S glorious victory of the NILE.
CHAPTER II.
Cursory thoughts on the advantages of Biography.--Plan
and objects of the Pneumatic Institution.--Davy contracts
friendships during his residence at Bristol.--His first visit
to London.--His Letters to Mr. Davies Gilbert.--The publication
of the West Country Contributions, by Dr. Beddoes.--Davy's
Essays on Heat, Light, and Respiration.--His interesting
experiments on bonnet canes.--He commences an enquiry into
the nature of nitrous oxyd.--He publishes his chemical
researches.--A critical examination of the work.--Testimony of
Tobin, Clayfield, Southey, and others, respecting the powers
of nitrous oxyd.--Davy breathes carburetted hydrogen gas, and
nearly perishes from its effects.--His new Galvanic experiments
communicated in a Letter to Mr. Gilbert.
Having concluded the early history of the subject of these
memoirs, and conducted it to that memorable day on which he left
his native town, and bursting from obscurity, prepared to enter
upon a wider field of usefulness and honour, I shall accompany
him in his progress; and with the honest desire of affording
instruction as well as amusement,--for history is useful only as it
holds up the mirror of Truth,--I shall continue to point out the
various circumstances that may have contributed to his success and
scientific renown; and to offer such occasional reflections as may
be likely to illustrate not only the superficial peculiarities
which constitute the light and shade of character, but those deeper
varieties of mind, upon which the superiority of intellect may be
supposed to depend.
After all, the great end of biography is not to be found, as some
would seem to imagine, in a series of dates, or in a collection
of gossiping anecdotes and table-talk, which, instead of lighting
up and vivifying the features, hang as a cloud of dust upon the
portrait; but it is to be found in an analysis of human genius, and
in the developement of those elements of the mind, to whose varied
combinations, and nicely adjusted proportions, the mental habits,
and intellectual peculiarities of distinguished men may be readily
referred.
It has been stated that an arrangement had been concluded between
Dr. Beddoes and Davy: it is but an act of justice to say, that it
was of a liberal and honourable description; and let me also add in
this place, that no sooner had Davy found himself in a situation
which secured for him the necessaries of life, than he renounced
all claims upon his paternal property, in favour of his mother and
sisters.
By acceding to the proposal of Dr. Beddoes, he never intended to
abandon the profession in which he had embarked; on the contrary,
he persevered in his determination to study and graduate at
Edinburgh, and his patron promised that every opportunity should be
afforded him at Bristol for seeing medical practice: this part of
the arrangement, however, was voluntarily abandoned by him, for he
soon became so absorbed by the labours of the laboratory, as to
leave little leisure for the clinical studies of the hospital.
The Pneumatic Institution was established for the purpose of
investigating the medical powers of factitious airs or gases; and
to Davy was assigned the office of superintending the various
experiments.
It is now generally acknowledged, that the Art of Physic has not
derived any direct advantage from the application of a class of
agents which, undoubtedly, held forth the fairest promise of
benefit; but it is too frequently the case, that in physic, theory
and experience are in open hostilities with each other. The gases
are now never employed in the treatment of disease, except by a
few crafty or ignorant empirics, whose business it is to enrich
themselves by playing on the credulity of mankind: indeed, we may
say of popular remedies in general what M. de Lagrange has so
wittily said of popular prejudices, that they are the cast-off
clothes of philosophers, in which the rabble dress themselves.
The investigation, however, into the nature and composition of
the gases paved the way to some new and important discoveries in
science; so that, to borrow a Baconian metaphor, although our
philosophers failed in obtaining the treasure for which they so
eagerly dug, they at least, by turning up and pulverizing the soil,
rendered it fertile. The ingenuity of the chemist will for ever
remain on record; the phantoms of the physicians have vanished into
air.
Davy was now constantly engaged in the prosecution of new
experiments, in the conception of which, as he himself informs us,
he was greatly aided by the conversation and advice of Dr. Beddoes.
He was also occasionally assisted by Mr. William Clayfield, a
gentleman ardently attached to chemical pursuits, and whose name is
not unknown in the annals of science; indeed, it appears that to
him he was indebted for the invention of a mercurial air-holder,
by which he was enabled to collect and measure the various gases
submitted to examination. He had also the advantages of some
society of a highly intellectual cast: it is sufficient to mention
the names of Edgeworth and James Tobin.
In reply to a letter of enquiry which was lately addressed to her,
Miss Edgeworth observes, that "her father possessed much influence
over Davy's mind;" and that "when he was a very young man at
Clifton, unknown to fame, Mr. Edgeworth early distinguished and
warmly admired his talents, and gave him much counsel, which sunk
deep into his mind."
The present Lord Durham and his brother were also resident in the
house of Dr. Beddoes, not only for their education, but for the
benefit of his professional superintendence. Besides those who
were residing at Clifton, the most distinguished in the circles
of science and literature paid passing visits to Dr. Beddoes;
with many of whom Davy contracted an acquaintance, with some an
intimacy, and with a few a solid and permanent friendship. In
examining the individuals composing this latter class, we find them
differing so widely from each other in character and pursuit, that
we are led to enquire upon what principles of affinity his regards
could possibly have been attracted--the truth is, that there was
more than one avenue to his heart; and the philosopher, the poet,
the physician, the philanthropist, and the sportsman, found each,
upon different terms, a more or less ready access to its recesses.
The chemist who would aspire to his favour, could alone obtain it
by laborious application and novel research; the philanthropist,
by the practicability of his schemes for improving society, and
increasing the sum of its happiness; but the fisherman instantly
caught his affections by a hook and line. To be a fly-fisher
was, in his opinion, to possess the capabilities of intellectual
distinction, although circumstances might not have conspired to
call them into action; whilst a proficiency in this art, when
exhibited by an individual otherwise distinguished, gave him an
additional claim to his attention and regard. The stern courage
of Nelson, tempered as it was with all the kindly feelings of
humanity, was sufficient to excite in the breast of Davy the most
enthusiastic admiration; but the circumstance of his having been
a fly-fisher, and continued the sport, even with his left hand,
threw, in his opinion, a still brighter halo around his character.
No one who knew him can accuse him of inconstancy in his
friendships: amidst the excitements of his station, and the
abstractions incident to his pursuits, he might not always have
shown those little attentions which are received by the world as
the indications of personal regard; but his heart beat not less
warmly on that account: when the flame of affection had been
once kindled, it burnt with a pure and steady light through life.
This will be readily seen in the letters addressed to his several
early friends, more especially to Mr. Poole of Nether Stowey, in
Somersetshire, and to Mr. Clayfield of Bristol, from which I shall
have occasion to present some interesting extracts.
Those who had become acquainted with him in early life, and were
enabled to watch the whole progress of his career from obscurity to
the highest pinnacle of fame, have declared that his extraordinary
talents never at any period excited greater astonishment and
admiration than during his short residence at Bristol. His
simplicity of mind and manner was also at this time truly
delightful. He scarcely knew the names of our best authors, much
less read any of their works; yet upon topics of moral philosophy
and metaphysics he would enter into discussion with acknowledged
scholars, and not only delight them with the native energy of
his mind, but instruct them by the novelty and truth of his
conceptions. Mr. Coleridge lately expressed to me the astonishment
he felt, very shortly after his introduction to him, on hearing him
maintain an argument upon some abstruse subject with a gentleman
equally distinguished for the extent of his erudition, and for the
talent of rendering it available for illustration;--the contrast
was most striking--it was the fresh and native wild flower, opposed
to the elaborate exotic of the _Hortus Siccus_!
During this period he occasionally visited his friend Mr. Gregory
Watt, at Birmingham; at which place his ambition was constantly
excited by intercourse with congenial minds; and his letters to his
mother and relations represent him as rejoicing in the success of
his experiments, and as delighting in his association with kindred
genius; but always casting a longing, lingering thought on the
scenes of his boyhood, he spoke with joyful anticipation of the
period at which he proposed to revisit his mother and family.
That he still continued to regard the practice of physic as the
great end and object of all his pursuits, is evident from one of
these letters, written in 1799, in which he says, "Philosophy,
Chemistry, and Medicine, are my profession."
On the 1st of December 1799 he visited London for the first
time, and remained about a fortnight; the friends with whom he
associated upon this occasion were Coleridge, Southey, Gregory
Watt, Underwood, James and John Tobin, Thomson, and Clayfield; all
of whom vied with each other in their exertions to render his visit
agreeable, conducting him to such persons and places as were deemed
worthy of his notice.
Of all the letters placed at my disposal, those addressed to his
early friend and patron, Mr. Davies Gilbert, are, in my judgment,
the most interesting: it is true, that as specimens of epistolary
style they have but slender pretensions, and are far less pleasing
than those written to Mr. Poole and others, in later life; but let
it be remembered that, as yet, their writer had never enjoyed the
advantages of literary correspondence. For the defects, however,
of style, there is more than sufficient compensation; they speak
from the heart;--they carry with them internal evidence of the
honest simplicity of his mind, and they throw a light upon the
peculiarities of his genius, which without such aid might be less
perfectly understood; above all, they evince an ardour which no
difficulties could repress, and a confidence which no failures
could extinguish. We clearly discern from his first letters, that
he entered upon his career of experiment with an almost chivalrous
feeling, flushed with the consciousness of native strength, and
exulting in the prospect of destined achievements.
I am aware that there are those who still object, with Dr. Sprat,
to the practice of publishing letters which were never intended for
the public eye, and I experience the inconvenience, while I respect
the delicacy, of such an opinion. I confess, on my own part, I have
always considered, with Mr. Mason, that the objections urged by the
learned historian of the Royal Society are wholly untenable. He
talks of "the souls of men thus appearing undressed, or in a habit
too negligent to go abroad in the streets, although they might be
seen by a few in a chamber." But the undress he would condemn,
is the nakedness of Truth--the negligent attire, the simple and
unadorned expression of those natural and significant traits,
whose value incomparably exceeds the premeditated and artificial
exhibitions of mind and manner. "_Nam in ingenio quoque sicut in
agro, quanquam alia diu serantur atque elaborantur, gratiora tamen
quæ sua sponte nascuntur._"[18]
[18] Dialogus de Oratoribus,--_Tacit._
I cannot but suspect that Dr. Sprat was, upon this occasion, more
anxious to display a metaphor, than to illustrate a truth. I have
often thought a very curious book might be written to show how
greatly, both in physics and in morals, the progress of truth
has been retarded, and the judgment of men warped, by the abuse
of metaphors; the most correct of which can be nothing more than
the image of Truth reflected, as it were, from a mirror, and
consequently liable to all the delusions of our mental optics. The
figure by which Nature was represented as "_abhorring a vacuum_,"
kept us in ignorance of the true theory of the pump for two
thousand years after the discovery of the weight, or gravity, of
the atmosphere;[19] and the unfortunate P. L. Courier positively
owed his conviction to a metaphor in the Judge's charge--"_Un écrìt
plein de poison._"--Well might the defendant exclaim, "_Sauvez-nous
de la Metaphore!_"
[19] Plutarch, in expressing the opinion of Asclepiades upon this
subject, represents him as saying, that the external air, _by
its weight_, opened its way with force into the breast. Seneca
also was acquainted with the weight and elastic force of the air;
for he describes the constant effort by which it expands itself
when it is compressed, and affirms that it has the property of
condensing itself, and of forcing its way through all obstacles
that oppose its passage.--Quæst. Nat. lib. v. c. v. and vi.
The first of the letters to which I have alluded appears to have
been written rather more than five weeks after his arrival at
Clifton.
TO DAVIES GIDDY, ESQ.
Clifton, November 12, 1798.
DEAR SIR,
I have purposely delayed writing until I could communicate to
you some intelligence of importance concerning the Pneumatic
Institution. The speedy execution of the plan will, I think,
interest you, both as a subscriber and a friend to science and
mankind. The present subscription is, we suppose, nearly adequate
to the purpose of investigating the medicinal powers of factitious
airs; it still continues to increase, and we may hope for the
ability of pursuing the investigation to its full extent. We are
negotiating for a house in Dowrie Square, the proximity of which to
Bristol, and its general situation and advantages, render it very
suitable to the purpose. The funds will, I suppose, enable us to
provide for eight or ten patients in the hospital, and for as many
out of it as we can procure.
We shall try the gases in every possible way. They may be condensed
by pressure and rarefied by heat. _Quere_,--would not a powerful
injecting syringe,[20] furnished with two valves, one opening into
an air-holder and the other into the breathing chamber, answer
the purpose of compression better than any other apparatus? Can
you not, from your extensive stores of philosophy, furnish us
with some hints on this subject? May not the non-respirable gases
furnish a class of different stimuli? of which the _oxymuriatic
acid gas_ would stand the highest, if we might judge from its
effects on the lungs; then, probably, _gaseous oxyd of azote_, and
_hydro-carbonate_.
I suppose you have not heard of the discovery of the native
_sulphate of strontian_ in England. I shall perhaps surprise you by
stating that we have it in large quantities here. It had long been
mistaken for _sulphate of barytes_, till our friend Clayfield,
on endeavouring to procure the _muriate of barytes_ from it by
decomposition, detected the strontian. We opened a fine vein of it
about a fortnight ago, at the Old Passage near the mouth of the
Severn. It was embodied in limestone and gypsum, the outside of
the vein, a striated mass; the internal parts finely crystallized
in cubes, of the Sp. Gr. 4·1. Clayfield has been working at it for
some time. We have persuaded him to publish his analysis in the
first volume of the Western Physical Collection.
I have made with him the phosphuret of barytes and of strontian:
they possess, in common with that of lime, the property of
producing phosphorized hydrogen gas; the phosphuret of strontian,
it appears, in a more eminent degree.
We have likewise attempted to decompose the boracic and muriatic
acids, by passing phosphorus, in vapour, through muriate, and
borate of lime, heated red. Phosphate of lime was found in the
experiment on the boracic acid; but, as no pneumatic apparatus was
employed, the experiment was uncertain. We shall repeat them next
week.
We are printing in Bristol the first volume of the 'West Country
Collection,' which will, I suppose, be out in the beginning of
January.
Mrs. Beddoes hopes that Miss Giddy received her letter, and desires
me to certify that she wrote almost immediately after the reception
of her epistle. She is as good, amiable, and elegant as when you
saw her. Believe me, dear Sir, with affection and respect,
Truly your's,
HUMPHRY DAVY.
[20] Here the reader will recognise the force of early
associations.
The work announced in the above letter was published in the
commencement of the year 1799, under the title of "Contributions
to Physical and Medical Knowledge, principally from the West of
England; collected by Thomas Beddoes, M.D."
The first two hundred pages, constituting very nearly half the
volume, are the composition of Davy, and consist of essays "On
Heat, Light, and the Combinations of Light." "On Phos-oxygen, or
Oxygen and its Combinations;" and "On the Theory of Respiration."
His first essay commences with an experiment, in order to show that
light is not, as Lavoisier supposed, a modification, or an effect,
of heat, but matter of a peculiar kind, _sui generis_, which, when
moving through space, or in a state of projection, is capable of
becoming the source of a numerous class of our sensations.
A small gunlock was armed with an excellent flint, and, on being
snapped in an exhausted receiver, did not produce any light. The
experiment was repeated in carbonic acid, and with a similar
result. Small particles were in each case separated from the steel,
which, on microscopic examination, evidently appeared to have
undergone fusion. Whence Davy argued, that light cannot be caloric
in a state of projection, or it must have been produced in these
experiments, where heat existed to an extent sufficient to fuse
steel. Nor, that it can be, as some have supposed, a vibration of
the imaginary fluid ether; for, granting the existence of such a
fluid, it must have been present in the receiver. If, then, light
be neither caloric in a state of projection, nor the vibration of
an imaginary ether, it must, he says, be a substance _sui generis_.
With regard to caloric, his opinion that it is not, like light,
material, has been already noticed. In the present essay he
maintains the proposition by the same method of reasoning as that
by which he attempts to establish the materiality of light, and
which mathematicians have termed the "_reductio ad absurdum_."
In his chapter on "Light and its Combinations," he indulges in
speculations of the wildest nature, although it must be confessed
that he has infused an interest into them which might almost be
called dramatic. They are certainly highly characteristic of that
enlightened fancy, which was perpetually on the wing, and whose
flight, when afterwards tempered and directed by judgment, enabled
him to abstract the richest treasures from the recesses of abstract
truth.
Taking it for granted that caloric has no existence as a material
body, or, in other words, that the phenomena of repulsion do not
depend upon the agency of a peculiar fluid, and that, on the
contrary, light is a subtle fluid acting on our organs of vision
_only when in a state of repulsive projection_, he proceeds to
examine the French theory of combustion; the defects of which he
considers to arise from the assumption of the imaginary fluid
_caloric_, and the total neglect of _light_. He conceives that
the light evolved during combustion previously existed in the
oxygen gas, which he therefore proposes for the future to call
PHOS-OXYGEN.[21]
[21] Brugnatelli considered that oxygen, in certain cases of
combination, entered into union with different bodies, without
parting with its _caloric_; and in that state he gave it the
name of THERM-OXYGEN; so that Davy had a precedent for his
nomenclatural innovation.
In following up this question, he would seem to consider Light
as the _Anima Mundi_, diffusing through the universe not only
organization, but even animation and perception.
_Phos-oxygen_ he considers as capable of combining with
additional proportions of Light, and of thus becoming '_luminated
Phos-oxygen!_'--from the decomposition of which, and the consequent
liberation of light, he seeks to explain many of the most recondite
phenomena of Nature.
We cannot but admire the eagerness with which he enlists known
facts into his service, and the boldness with which he ranges
the wilds of creation in search of analogies for the support and
illustration of his views. He imagines that the _Phos-oxygen_,
when thus _luminated_, must necessarily have its specific gravity
considerably diminished by the combination, and that it will
therefore occupy the higher regions of the atmosphere; hence, he
says, it is that combustion takes place at the tops of mountains
at a lower temperature than in the plains, and with a greater
liberation of light. The hydrogen which is disengaged from the
surface of the earth, he supposes, will rise until it comes into
contact with this _luminated Phos-oxygen_, when, by its attracting
the oxygen to form water, the light will be set free, and give
origin to the phenomena of fiery meteors at a great altitude.
The phenomenon termed '_Phosphorescence_,' or that luminous
appearance which certain bodies exhibit after exposure to heat, is
attributed by this theory to the light, which may be supposed
to quit such substances as soon as its particles have acquired
repulsive motion by elevation of temperature.
The Electric Fluid is considered as Light in a condensed state,
or, in other words, in that peculiar state in which it is not
supplied with a repulsive motion sufficiently energetic to impart
projection to its particles; for, he observes, that its chemical
action upon bodies is similar to that of Light; and when supplied
with repulsive motion by friction, or by the contact of bodies from
which it is capable of subtracting it, it loses the projectile
form, and becomes perceptible as Light. It is extremely probable,
he adds, that the great quantity of this fluid almost everywhere
diffused over our earth is produced by the condensation of Light,
in consequence of the subtraction of its repulsive motion by black
and dark bodies; while it may again recover the projectile force
by the repulsive motion of the poles, caused by the revolution
of the earth on its axis, and thus appear again in the state of
sensible light; and hence the phenomenon of the _Aurora Borealis_,
or Northern Lights.
In considering the theory of Respiration, he supposes that
_phos-oxygen_ combines with the venous blood without decomposition;
but that, on reaching the brain, the light is liberated in the form
of Electricity, which he believes to be identical with the nervous
fluid. On this supposition, sensations and ideas are nothing more
than motions of the nervous ether; or light exciting the medullary
substance of the nerves and brain into sensitive action!
He thinks it would be worth while to try, by a very sensible
electrometer, whether an insulated muscle, when stimulated into
action, would not give indications of the liberation of electric
fluid, although he suspects that in man the quantity is probably
too small, and too slowly liberated, to be ascertainable. In the
torpedo, and in some other animals, however, it is unquestionably
given out perceptibly during animal action.
When any considerable change takes place in the organic matter
of the body, so as to destroy the powers of life, new chemical
attractions and repulsive motions take place, and the different
principles of which the body is composed enter into new
combinations. In this process, which is called putrefaction, Davy,
in pursuance of this theory, thinks that in land-animals the latent
light of the system enters into new combinations with oxygen and
nitrogen, but that in fish no such combinations occur, and hence
the luminous appearance which accompanies their putrefaction.
Such is the outline of these extraordinary Essays. They stand upon
record, and therefore, as a faithful biographer, I was bound to
notice them; nor are they devoid of interest or instruction: I am
not quite sure that, amidst all the meteors of his fancy, there may
not be a gleam of truth. I allude to his theory of Respiration: it
certainly does not square aôwith the physiological opinions of the
day; nor did that of Newton, when he conjectured that water might
contain an inflammable element; but it was the refraction of a
great truth, at that time below the horizon.
It was a very ancient opinion, that life, being in its own
nature aëriform, is under the necessity of renewing itself by
inspiring the air. Modern chemistry, by teaching us the nature
of the atmosphere, has dispelled many fanciful theories of its
action, but it has not yet explained why respiration, the first
and last act of life,[22] cannot be suspended, even for a minute,
without the extinction of vitality. When we reflect upon this
fact, it is scarcely possible not to believe that the function has
been ordained for some greater purpose than that of removing a
portion of carbon from the circulating blood. Is it unreasonable
to conclude that some principle is thus imparted, which is too
subtle to be long retained in our vessels, and too important to
be dispensed with, even for the shortest period? "I offer this
opinion," as Montaigne says, "not as being good, but as being my
own."
[22] Breath and life are synonymous. In the Greek, the most
philosophically constructed language with which we are
acquainted, this _first_ and _last_ act is expressed by a verb
composed of alpha and omega--[Greek: aô]. In the Latin, the
connexion between _spiro_ and _spiritus_, breath and life, is
evident.
By these observations, I am not to be supposed as wishing, for a
moment, to uphold the wild hypotheses which I have just related; it
must be admitted that the theory of _phos-oxygen_ and _luminated
phos-oxygen_ has scarcely a parallel in extravagance and absurdity;
and I happen to know that, in after life, Davy bitterly regretted
that he had so committed himself; any allusion to the subject became
a source of painful irritation. It is to be remarked, that in every
course of lectures, although Davy did not refer to these theories,
he frequently alluded to the unphilosophic spirit that had given
origin to them; as if he had imposed upon himself this penance
as an atonement for his early follies. The following note
was taken at one of his lectures:--"After what has been said, it
will be useless to enter upon an examination of any of those
theories, which, assuming for their foundation the connexion of life
with respiration, have attempted to prove that oxygen is the
principle of life, and that the wonderful and mysterious
phenomena of perception arise from the action of common gravitating
substances upon each other. Such theories are the dreams of misemployed
genius, which the light of experiment and observation has
never conducted to truth, and are merely a collection of terms
derived from known phenomena, and applied by loose analogies
of language to unknown things."
The reader, however, will be disposed to treat him with all
tenderness when he remembers that the author of these Essays was
barely eighteen years of age. If blame is to fall on any one,
let it fall on Dr. Beddoes, who never should have sanctioned the
publication: had he curbed the ardent and untamed imagination of
the young philosopher, he would have acted the part of a wise
man and of a kind friend. But the truth is, that much as Davy
needed the bridle, Beddoes[23] required it still more; for,
notwithstanding his talents, he was as little fitted for a Mentor
as a weathercock for a compass; and had it not been for the
ascendency which Davy gained over his mind, the ardour of his
temperament would have continually urged him beyond the bounds of
reason.
[23] The only pun Davy is said to have ever made was upon the
occasion of Mr. Sadler being appointed by Dr. Beddoes as his
successor. "I cannot imagine," said he, "why he has engaged
_Sadler_, unless it is that he may be well _bridled_."
Caught by the loosest analogies, he would arrive at a conclusion
without examining all the conditions of his problem. In the
exercise of his profession, therefore, he was frequently led to
prescribe plans which he felt it necessary to retract the next
hour. His friend Mr. T---- had occasion to consult him upon the
case of his wife: the Doctor prescribed a new remedy; but, in the
course of the day he returned in haste, and begged that, before
Mrs. T---- took the medicine, its effect might be tried on a dog!
The following anecdote, which was lately communicated to me by
Mr. Coleridge, will not only illustrate a trait of character, but
furnish a salutary lesson to the credulous patron of empirics. As
soon as the powers of nitrous oxide were discovered, Dr. Beddoes
at once concluded that it must necessarily be a specific for
paralysis. A patient was selected for the trial, and the management
of it was entrusted to Davy. Previous to the administration of the
gas, he inserted a small pocket thermometer under the tongue of
the patient, as he was accustomed to do upon such occasions, to
ascertain the degree of animal temperature, with a view to future
comparison. The paralytic man, wholly ignorant of the nature of
the process to which he was to submit, but deeply impressed, from
the representations of Dr. Beddoes, with the certainty of its
success, no sooner felt the thermometer between his teeth than
he concluded that the _talisman_ was in full operation, and in
a burst of enthusiasm declared that he already experienced the
effects of its benign influence throughout his whole body:--the
opportunity was too tempting to be lost--Davy cast an intelligent
glance at Mr. Coleridge, and desired the patient to renew his visit
on the following day, when the same ceremony was again performed,
and repeated every succeeding day for a fortnight, the patient
gradually improving during that period, when he was dismissed as
cured, no other application having been used than that of the
thermometer. Dr. Beddoes, from whom the circumstances of the case
had been intentionally concealed, saw in the restoration of the
patient the confirmation of his opinion, and the fulfilment of
his most ardent hope--Nitrous Oxide was a specific remedy for
Paralysis! "It were criminal to retard the general promulgation of
so important a discovery; it were cruel to delay the communication
of the fact until the publication of another volume of his
'_Contributions_;' the periodical magazines were too slow in their
rate of travelling,--a flying pamphlet would be more expeditious;
paragraphs in the newspapers; circulars to the hospitals:"--such
were the reflections and plans which successively agitated the
physician's mind, when his eyes were opened to the unwelcome truth
by Davy's confessing the delusion that had been practised.
A short time after the publication of the first volume of the
"Contributions," Davy addressed to his friend the following
letter:--
TO DAVIES GIDDY, ESQ.
Clifton, Feb. 22, 1799.
DEAR FRIEND,--for I love you too well to call you by a more
ceremonious name,--I have delayed writing to you from day to day,
expecting that some of our experiments would produce results worthy
of communication. Since I received your last very acceptable
letter, I have been chiefly employed in pursuing the experiments on
Heat, Light, Respiration, &c. Of these experiments I shall give you
no account, as you will see them in print. I sent you a copy of my
Essays last week; if you have not received them, I trust you will
find them at my mother's, or at Mr. Tonkin's.
In the same parcel were two small packets, one from Mrs. Beddoes
for your father, the other for Miss Giddy from Mrs. Willoughby.
About a fortnight ago I sent a few chemical instruments to Mr.
Penneck of Penzance; and inclosed with them were specimens of the
different varieties of sulphate of strontian addressed to you. If
you have not received them, you will get them by sending to Mr.
Penneck.
On looking over a box of minerals last week, which was sent to
Dr. Beddoes from Cumberland, I found two very fine specimens of
sulphate of strontian, marked by the collector _Laminated Shorl_. I
suspect this mineral is not scarce in calcareous countries; it is,
I dare say, often mistaken for sulphate of barytes.
I have succeeded in combining strontian with the oxygenated
muriatic acid. This salt possesses most astonishing properties;[24]
you will find an account of them in my Essay.
When you have perused my papers, I shall be very much obliged to
you for a criticism upon them. When I left Penzance, I was quite an
infant in speculation,--I knew very little of Light or Heat. I am
now as much convinced of the non-existence of caloric, as I am of
the existence of light. Independent of the experiments which appear
to demonstrate its non-existence directly, and of which you will
find an account in my Essay, the consideration of certain phenomena
leads me to suppose that there would be no difficulty in proving
its non-existence by reasoning. These considerations have occurred
to me since the publication of the work. I could now render it much
more perfect; but I hope soon to complete the investigation of the
combinations of Light, and to produce a much more perfect work on
the subject. I shall be infinitely obliged to you for any hints
or observations, as far as the detection of errors of any kind,
for it is no flattery to say that I pay greater deference to your
opinion than to that of any other philosopher.
We intend next week to endeavour to ascertain, by the aid of a
delicate balance, the quantities of Light liberated in different
combustive processes. That there is a deficiency of weight, I am
convinced from many experiments.
The experiments on Light, &c. have prevented me from attempting
the decomposition of the undecompounded acids. We have ordered an
apparatus at the glass-house for this purpose, and I hope next
week we shall be able to carry on the investigation. Two modes
of effecting these decompositions have occurred to me:--first,
to bring phosphorus or sulphur, in the gaseous state, in contact
with the acid gases in a tube heated intensely; secondly, to send
sulphur in the gaseous state through muriate of copper or lead,
heated white. The attraction of sulphur for oxygen, of copper
for oxygen, and of sulphur for copper, will probably effect the
decomposition.
Our laboratory in the Pneumatic Institution is nearly finished, and
we shall begin the investigations in about a fortnight. We shall
begin by trying the gases in their simplest mode of application,
and gradually carry on the more complex processes.
I hope the gaseous oxide of azote will prove to be a specific
stimulus for the absorbents.
I was last week surprised by a letter from Mr. Watt, announcing
the success of their trial. When I was at Birmingham five weeks
ago, the family were in very low spirits. I spent nine or ten
days there, chiefly with Mr. Keir and Mr. Watt: I had a great
deal of chemical conversation with them. Mr. Keir is one of the
best-informed men I have ever met with, and extremely agreeable.
Both he and Mr. Watt are still phlogitians; but Mr. Keir altogether
disbelieves the doctrine of _calorique_.
What news have you in Cornwall? Has Mr. John Hawkins returned to
his native county? he will doubtless be a great acquisition to you.
Pray do you know whether the Zoophyta and marine worms are
susceptible of the galvanic stimulus? Experiments on them would
go far to determine whether the irritable or sensitive fibre is
primarily affected.
I know of little general scientific news. In the last volume of the
_Annales de Chimie_ is a curious paper by Berthollet on sulphurated
hydrogen: he makes it out to be an acid. I shall most anxiously
expect a letter from you, and I remain with affection and respect,
Yours,
HUMPHRY DAVY.
[24] The following is the account given in his Essay. "When
sulphuric acid was poured into a solution of this salt in water,
a beautiful and unexpected phenomenon took place. The room was
accidentally darkened at the moment this experiment was made, so
that we were enabled to perceive a vivid luminous appearance.
This experiment, independent of its beauty, is extremely pleasing
as affording an instance of true combustion, that is, the
production of Light and Heat by the mixture of two incombustible
bodies." It may be presumed, that this phenomenon arose from the
developement and decomposition of a portion of Euchlorine, a
compound which he subsequently discovered in 1811. In the year
1813, Chevreul announced, as a new discovery, that if strontian
be heated in contact with muriatic acid gas, the gas is absorbed,
and the earthy salt becomes red hot.--_See Annals of Philosophy_,
vol. ii. p. 312.
The letter which follows may be considered as a reply to one
received from Mr. Davies Gilbert, which, it would appear, contained
strictures upon his recently published Essays.
TO DAVIES GIDDY, ESQ.
April 10, 1799.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
The engagements resulting from the establishment of the Pneumatic
Institution, and from a course of experiments, to which I have
been obliged to pay great attention, have prevented me from
acknowledging to you my obligations for the very great pleasure I
received from your last excellent letter.
In experiments on Light and Heat, we have to deal with agents whose
changes we are unable directly to estimate. The most we can hope
for is such an arrangement of facts as will account for most of the
phenomena.
The supposition of active powers common to all matter, from
the different modifications of which all the phenomena of its
changes result, appears to me more reasonable than the assumption
of certain imaginary fluids alone endowed with active powers,
and bearing the same relation to common matter, as the vulgar
philosophy supposes spirit to bear to matter.
That the particles of bodies must move, or separate from each
other, when they become expanded, is certain. A repulsive motion of
the particles is directly the cause of expansion; and when bodies
are expanded by friction, under circumstances in which there could
be no heat communicated by bodies in contact, no oxidation and
no diminution of capacity, I see no difficulty in conceiving the
repulsive motion generated by the mechanical motion.
Your excellent and truly philosophic observations will induce me to
pay greater attention to all my positions. It is only by forming
theories, and then comparing them with facts, that we can hope to
discover the true system of nature. I will endeavour very soon to
give an answer to the remaining part of your excellent letter.
I have now just room to give you an account of the experiments I
have lately been engaged in, though they are not much connected
with light and heat.
_First._--One of Mr. William Coate's children accidentally
discovered that two bonnet-canes rubbed together produced a faint
light. The novelty of this phenomenon induced me to examine it, and
I found that the canes on collision produced sparks of light, as
brilliant as those from the flint and steel.
_Secondly._--On examining the epidermis, I found, when it was taken
off, that the canes no longer gave light on collision.
_Thirdly._--The epidermis, subjected to chemical analysis, had all
the properties of silex.
_Fourthly._--The similar appearance of the epidermis of reeds,
corn, and grasses, induced me to suppose that they likewise
contained silex. By burning them carefully, and analysing their
ashes, I found that they contained it in rather larger proportions
than the canes.
_Fifthly._--The corn and grasses contain sufficient potash to form
glass with their flint. A very pretty experiment may be made on
these plants with the blow-pipe. If you take a straw of wheat,
barley, or hay,[25] and burn it, beginning at the top, and heating
the ashes with the blue flame, you will obtain a perfect globule of
hard glass fit for microscopic experiments.
I made a discovery yesterday which proves how necessary it is
to repeat experiments. The gaseous oxide of azote is perfectly
respirable when pure. It is never deleterious but when it contains
nitrous gas. I have found a mode of obtaining it pure, and I
breathed to-day, in the presence of Dr. Beddoes and some others,
sixteen quarts of it for near seven minutes. It appears to support
life longer than even oxygen gas, and absolutely intoxicated me.
Pure oxygen gas produced no alteration in my pulse, nor any other
material effect; whereas this gas raised my pulse upwards of twenty
strokes, made me dance about the laboratory as a madman, and has
kept my spirits in a glow ever since. Is not this a proof of the
truth of my theory of respiration? for this gas contains more light
in proportion to its oxygen than any other, and I hope will prove a
most valuable medicine.
We have upwards of eighty out-patients in the Pneumatic
Institution, and are going on wonderfully well.
I shall hope for the favour of a letter from you, and in my answer
to it will fully inform you of our proceedings. I have just room to
add that I am
Yours, with affection and respect,
HUMPHRY DAVY.
[25] It is very common, after the burning of a hay-stack, to find
glass in the ashes. P.
I cannot suffer the experiments with the bonnet-canes to pass,
without endeavouring to infuse into the reader a portion of that
admiration which I feel in relating them. They furnish a beautiful
illustration of that combination of observation, experiment, and
analogy, first recommended by Lord Bacon, and so strictly adopted
by Davy in all his future grand researches.
In alluding to this discovery--that siliceous earth exists
generally in the epidermis of hollow plants--Davy observes in his
agricultural lectures, that "the siliceous epidermis serves as a
support, protects the bark from the action of insects, and seems
to perform a part in the economy of these feeble vegetable tribes,
similar to that performed in the animal kingdom by the shell of the
crustaceous insects."
The circumstance that first led him to the investigation of the
nature of _nitrous oxide_, or the _gaseous oxide of azote_, alluded
to in the foregoing letter, has been thus recorded by himself. "A
short time after I began the study of Chemistry, in March 1798, my
attention was directed to the _dephlogisticated nitrous gas_ of
Priestley (nitrous oxide) by Dr. Mitchell's theory of Contagion, by
which he attempted to prove that _dephlogisticated nitrous gas_!
which he calls _oxide of septon_, was the principle of contagion,
and capable of producing the most terrible effects, when respired
by animals in the minutest quantities, or even when applied to the
skin, or muscular fibre.
"The fallacy of this theory was soon demonstrated by a few coarse
experiments, made on small quantities of this gas procured, in the
first instance, from zinc and diluted nitrous acid. Wounds were
exposed to its action; the bodies of animals were immersed in it
without injury; and I breathed it, mingled in small quantities
with common air, without any remarkable effects. An inability to
procure it in sufficient quantities prevented me, at this time,
from pursuing the experiments to any greater extent. I communicated
an account of them to Dr. Beddoes."
His situation in the "Medical Pneumatic Institution" in 1799,
imposing upon him the duty of investigating the physiological
effects of such aëriform fluids as held out any promise of useful
agency, he resumed the investigation; a considerable period,
however, elapsed, before he succeeded in procuring _nitrous oxide_
in a state of purity; he was therefore obliged to breathe it in
mixture with oxygen gas, or common air; but as no just conclusion
could be deduced from the action of an impure gas, he commenced an
enquiry for the purpose of discovering a process by which it might
be procured in an uncontaminated condition; when, after a most
laborious investigation concerning its composition, properties,
and combinations, enquiries which were necessarily extended to the
different bodies connected with nitrous oxide, such as _nitrous
gas_, _nitrous acid_, and _ammonia_, he was enabled, by a series
of intermediate and comparative experiments, to reconcile apparent
anomalies, and thus, by removing the greater number of those
difficulties which had previously obscured this branch of science,
to present to the chemical world the first satisfactory history of
the COMBINATIONS OF OXYGEN AND NITROGEN.
Thus prepared, he proceeded to examine the action of nitrous oxide
upon living beings, and to compare it with the effects of other
gases upon man; and in this manner he completed its physiological,
as he had already done its chemical history.
These interesting results were published in a distinct volume, in
the year 1800, entitled, "Researches Chemical and Philosophical,
chiefly concerning Nitrous Oxide, and its Respiration. By Humphry
Davy, Superintendent of the Medical Institution."
It may be observed in passing, that the merits of this work could
never have been inferred from the title-page, which its most
sanguine admirers must admit to be as clumsy and unpromising an
invitation as an author ever addressed to his scientific brethren.
Amongst Davy's letters to Mr. Gilbert, I find one written on a
proof sheet of the chapter of contents of the above work, and which
may not be uninteresting in this place.
TO DAVIES GIDDY, ESQ.
July 3, 1800.
That our feelings, as well as our actions, are rendered stronger
and more vivid by habit, is probable from many facts, and from no
one more so than that of procrastination. My much respected friend,
two months after my return,[26] I had formed the resolution of
writing to you; week after week this resolution was renewed and put
off to a future day, with the hope that this day, by presenting
something new, would enable me to make my letter more interesting.
In vain! the feeling of procrastination, thus increased by
association, at length became so strong as to prevent me from
writing at all.[27]
I have received your letter; it has awakened my duties, and has
been doubly welcome, as being unexpected and undeserved.
Since my return to the Pneumatic Institution in December, I have
been almost incessantly occupied, from January to April, in
completing a series of experiments on Gases, and their application;
and from April to the present time, in writing and printing an
account of them.
I have written this letter on the table of contents of a work which
will be published in the course of the month, and of which I shall
take the earliest opportunity to send you a copy. This table of
contents will give you a better idea of the nature and extent of
the investigation, than I could possibly have given in a letter.
We have been repeating the Galvanic experiments with success.
Nicholson, by means of a hundred pieces of silver and zinc, has
procured a visible spark. Cruickshank has revived oxidated metals
in solution, by means of the nascent hydrogen produced from the
decomposition of water by the shock; and both he and Carlisle have
absolutely resolved water into oxygen and hydrogen by means of
it, making use of silver and platina wires. An immense field of
investigation seems opened by this discovery: may it be pursued so
as to acquaint us with some of the laws of life!
You have, undoubtedly, heard of Herschel's discovery concerning
the production of heat by invisible rays emitted from the sun. By
placing one thermometer within the red rays, separated by a prism,
and another beyond them, he found the temperature of the outside
thermometer raised more than that of the inside one.
When I first heard of Mr. Tennant's discovery,[28] I was very much
struck by an observation which you long ago made to me, on the
fertility of the Cornish lands, in which there was decomposed,
_feltspar_ or _serpentine_.
Mr. Tennant spent a day here some time ago, when I mentioned
your observation to him, but he could not give any solution of
the phenomenon. _Quere._--As lime and magnesia are probably both
subservient to vegetation, only from supplying plants with carbonic
acid, may not lime, when mingled with magnesia, in the process of
vegetation, render it partially caustic, and thus enable it to
destroy them?
Your observation on the scale of numbers, and the fact relative
to it, are highly interesting. Reasoning on this subject would
literally form the logic of generalization, or the application of
one term to signify many terms, or many ideas, on which science
ultimately depends. _Quere._--How far have the first attempts
at generalization arisen from accident, and how far from the
resemblance between ideas?
Dr. Beddoes has always ridiculed the "_Tractors_," in common with
all other reasonable men. He is about to publish a new work on the
Nitrous Acid.
J. Wedgwood is returned, very little altered for the better.
Coleridge is gone to reside in Cumberland; he was here the week
before last, and spent much time with me, and often spoke of you
with the greatest interest. Clayfield is at this moment chiefly
engaged in commercial speculations. He has found a new mode of
making soda, which there is every reason to believe will turn out
profitable.
I hope some time in the autumn to see you, and to enjoy the well
remembered pleasure of your conversation; in the mean while, I
remain, with respects to your family,
Yours with sincere affection,
HUMPHRY DAVY.
[26] From his visit to London, as noticed at page 62.
[27] With respect to the metaphysical speculation contained in
this paragraph of his letter, had he not written it in haste, we
might presume he would have given a more exact expression to his
ideas. By the misapplied term "_Feeling of Procrastination_," he
doubtless meant to describe that aversion to labour which becomes
habit by indulgence, and the perception of which, so far from
increasing in vividness, actually languishes to obtuseness. To
borrow an expression from Dr. Johnson, Davy, in his metaphysical
speculations, not unfrequently trod upon the brink of meaning,
where light and darkness begin to mingle.
[28] Davy here alludes to the fact of magnesian earth being
prejudicial to vegetation.
In estimating the early genius of Davy, and his character as a
philosopher, the style and matter of his "RESEARCHES" will afford
us much assistance. The close philosophical reasoning,--the
patient and penetrating industry,--the candid submission to every
intimation of experiment, and the accuracy of manipulation, so
remarkably displayed throughout this work, have been rarely
equalled, and perhaps never surpassed.
There is scarcely to be found a more striking illustration
of chemical genius, than that afforded by his chapter on the
"Absorption of _Nitrous Gas by solutions of green Sulphate of
Iron_."
The address with which he gradually disentangles the subject of
its difficulties, and catches at every opening to truth, affords
a study which may be safely recommended to the attention of every
young experimentalist, as being no less instructive than it is
beautiful.
The phenomena attending the absorption of _nitrous gas_ by
solutions of _sulphate of iron_ had been examined by Vauquelin and
by Berthollet, but the conclusions of these chemical philosophers
were fatally infected by errors, arising from the neglected action
of the atmosphere. Davy, by conducting his experiments over
mercury, proved that, in the absence of air, the absorption was
simply owing to a combination between the gas and the fluid; but
that, on admitting air, the nitrous _gas_ became nitrous _acid_, a
portion of which, together with a part of the water, subsequently
underwent decomposition, and gave origin to _ammonia_, and
ultimately to _nitrate of ammonia_, while the iron passed into the
state of a _peroxide_.
We have also to admire in this work an ardour for investigation,
which even the most imminent personal danger could not repress. He
may truly be said to have sought the bubble reputation in the very
jaws of Death. What shall we say of that spirit which led him to
inspire nitrous gas, at the hazard of filling his lungs with the
vapour of _aqua fortis_! or what, of that intrepid coolness which
enabled him to breathe a deadly gas, and to watch the advances of
its chilling power in the ebbing pulsations at the wrist!
These experiments, however, are far too interesting and important
to be related in any other than the author's own words; but it is
first necessary that his trials with the _nitrous oxide_ should be
considered.
He found that this gas might be most conveniently, as well as most
economically, prepared by the decomposition of a salt known by the
name of _nitrate of ammonia_, by the application of a regulated
heat; but, as the researches by which he arrived at this conclusion
are recorded at length in his work, and as the most important of
them are now embodied in every elementary system of chemistry, it
would not only be tedious but useless, to enter into a detail of
them upon this occasion.
"In April," he says, "I obtained nitrous oxide in a state
of purity, and ascertained many of its chemical properties.
Reflections upon these properties, and upon former trials, made me
resolve to inspire it in its pure form, for I saw no other way in
which its respirability, or powers, could be determined.
"I was aware of the danger of the experiment. It certainly would
never have been made, if the hypothesis of Dr. Mitchell had in
the least influenced my mind. I thought that the effects might,
possibly, be depressing and painful; but there were many reasons
which induced me to believe, that a single inspiration of a gas,
apparently possessing no immediate action on the irritable fibre,
could neither destroy, nor materially injure, the powers of life.
"On April 11th, I made the first inspiration of pure nitrous oxide.
It passed through the bronchiæ without stimulating the glottis, and
produced no uneasy sensations in the lungs.
"The result of this experiment proved that the gas was respirable,
and induced me to believe that a farther trial of its effects might
be made without danger.
"On April 16th, Dr. Kinglake being accidentally present, I breathed
three quarts of nitrous oxide from and into a silk bag, for
more than half a minute, without previously closing my nose, or
exhausting my lungs. The first inspirations occasioned a slight
degree of giddiness, which was succeeded by an uncommon sense of
fulness in the head, accompanied with loss of distinct sensation
and voluntary power,--a feeling analogous to that produced in
the first stage of intoxication; but unattended by pleasurable
sensation. Dr. Kinglake, who felt my pulse, informed me that it was
rendered quicker and fuller.
"This trial did not satisfy me with regard to its powers: comparing
it with the former ones, I was unable to determine whether the
operation was stimulant or depressing.
"I communicated the result to Dr. Beddoes, and on April the 17th,
he was present when the following experiment was made.
"Having previously closed my nostrils, and exhausted my lungs, I
breathed four quarts of the gas from and into a silk bag. The first
feelings were similar to those produced in the last experiment;
but in less than half a minute, the respiration being continued,
they diminished gradually, and were succeeded by a sensation
analogous to gentle pressure on all the muscles, attended by an
highly pleasurable thrilling, particularly in the chest and in the
extremities. The objects around me became dazzling, and my hearing
more acute. Towards the last inspirations, the thrilling increased,
the sense of muscular power became greater, and, at last, an
irresistible propensity to action was indulged in: I recollect but
indistinctly what followed; I know that my motions were various and
violent.
"These effects very soon ceased after the respiration of the
gas. In ten minutes I had recovered my natural state of mind.
The thrilling in the extremities continued longer than the other
sensations.
"This experiment was made in the morning; no languor or exhaustion
was consequent; my feelings throughout the day were as usual, and I
passed the night in undisturbed repose.
"The next morning the recollection of the effects of the gas was
very indistinct; and had not remarks written immediately after the
experiment recalled them to my mind, I should even have questioned
their reality."
Our philosopher very naturally doubted whether some of these strong
emotions might not, after all, be attributed to the enthusiasm
necessarily connected with the perception of agreeable feelings,
when he was prepared to expect painful sensations; but he says,
that subsequent experiments convinced him that the effects were
solely owing to the specific operation of the gas. He found that
he could breathe nine quarts of nitrous oxide for three minutes,
and twelve quarts for rather more than four; but that he could
never breathe it, in any quantity, so long as five minutes.
Whenever its operation was carried to the highest extent, the
pleasurable thrilling, at its height about the middle of the
experiment, gradually diminished, the sense of pressure on the
muscles was lost, impressions ceased to be perceived, vivid ideas
passed rapidly through the mind, and voluntary power was altogether
destroyed, so that the mouthpiece generally dropped from his
unclosed lips. When he breathed from six to seven quarts, muscular
motions were produced to a great extent: sometimes he manifested
his pleasure by stamping, or laughing only; at other times, by
dancing round the room, and vociferating.
During the progress of these experiments, it occurred to him that,
supposing _nitrous oxide_ to be analogous in its operation to
common stimulants, the debility occasioned by intoxication from
fermented liquors ought to be increased after excitement from this
gas, in the same manner as the debility produced by two bottles of
wine is increased by a third. To ascertain whether this was the
case, he drank a bottle of wine, in large draughts, in less than
eight minutes. His usual drink, he tells us, was water; he had
been little accustomed to take spirits or wine, and had never been
intoxicated but once before in the course of his life. Under such
circumstances, we may readily account for the powerful effects
produced by this quantity of wine, and which he describes in the
following manner:--
"Whilst I was drinking, I perceived a sense of fulness in the
head, and throbbing of the arteries, not unlike that produced in
the first stage of nitrous oxide excitement: after I had finished
the bottle, this fulness increased, the objects around me became
dazzling, the power of distinct articulation was lost, and I was
unable to stand steadily. At this moment, the sensations were
rather pleasurable than otherwise; the sense of fulness in the
head, however, soon increased, so as to become painful, and in
less than an hour I sunk into a state of insensibility. In this
situation I must have remained for two hours, or two hours and a
half. I was awakened by head-ache and painful nausea. My bodily and
mental debility were excessive, and the pulse feeble and quick.
"In this state, I breathed for near a minute and a half five quarts
of gas, which was brought to me by the operator for nitrous oxide;
but as it produced no sensations whatever, and apparently rather
increased my debility, I am almost convinced that it was, from some
accident, either common air, or very impure nitrous oxide.
"Immediately after this trial, I respired twelve quarts of oxygen
for nearly four minutes. It produced no alteration in my sensations
at the time, but immediately afterwards I imagined that I was a
little exhilarated.
"The head-ache and debility still, however, continuing with
violence, I examined some nitrous oxide which had been prepared
in the morning, and finding it very pure, I respired seven quarts
of it for two minutes and a half. I was unconscious of head-ache
after the third inspiration; the usual pleasurable thrilling
was produced, voluntary power was destroyed, and vivid ideas
rapidly passed through my mind; I made strides across the room,
and continued for some minutes much exhilarated; but languor and
depression, not very different in degree from those existing
before the experiment, succeeded; they however gradually went off
before bed-time.
"This experiment proved, that debility from intoxication was not
increased by excitement from nitrous oxide. The head-ache and
depression would probably have continued longer, had it not been
administered."
The same work contains an account of many other trials; but
sufficient has been extracted to show the zeal and intrepidity
with which he conducted his researches. To withhold, however, the
testimony which several other scientific persons have given, with
respect to the intoxicating influence of this gas, would be to
deprive the reader of some very amusing descriptions.
First appears Mr. W. Tobin, who tells us that he soon found his
nervous system agitated by the highest sensations of pleasure,
but which were difficult of description. When the bags were
exhausted and taken from him, he suddenly started from his chair,
and vociferating with pleasure, made towards those that were
present, as he wished they should participate in his feelings. He
struck gently at Davy, and a stranger entering the room at the
same moment, he made towards him, and gave him several blows,
but he adds, it was more in the spirit of good-humour, than in
that of anger. He then ran through different rooms in the house,
and at last returned to the laboratory, somewhat more composed,
although his spirits continued much elevated for some hours after
the experiment; he felt, however, no consequent depression,
either in the evening or day following. Upon another occasion,
he states that his sensations were superior to any thing he ever
before experienced; his step was firm, and all his muscular
power increased. His nerves were more alive to every surrounding
impression; he threw himself into several theatrical attitudes,
and traversed the laboratory with a quick step, while his mind was
elevated to a most sublime height: he says that "it is giving but
a faint idea of his feelings to say, that they resembled those
produced by a representation of an heroic scene on the stage, or by
reading a sublime passage in poetry, when circumstances contribute
to awaken the finest sympathies of the soul." The influence,
however, of this inspiring agent appears to have been as transitory
as its effects were vivid; for he afterwards observes, "I have
seldom lately experienced vivid sensations. The pleasure produced
by the gas is slight and tranquil, and I rarely feel sublime
emotions, or increased muscular power."
The first time that Mr. Clayfield breathed the gas, it produced
feelings analogous to those of intoxication. He was for some time
unconscious of existence, but at no period of the experiment
were his sensations agreeable; a momentary nausea followed, but
unconnected with languor or head-ache.
In a subsequent trial, it would appear that he did experience
certain thrillings which were highly pleasurable.
The account given by Dr. Kinglake agrees pretty much with those
already cited. He adds, however, that the inspiration of the gas
had the further effect of reviving rheumatic irritations in the
shoulder and knee-joints, which had not been previously felt for
many months.
Next appears Mr. Southey, the Laureate. The reader will no doubt be
prepared to hear that the nitrous oxide transported him, at least,
to the summit of Parnassus;--by no means: he laughed when the bag
was removed from his mouth, but it may be fairly questioned whether
this might not have been an expression of joy at the terrors he
had escaped; for he freely confesses that he could not distinguish
between the first feelings it occasioned, and an apprehension of
which he was unable to divest himself.
The first time Mr. Coleridge inspired the nitrous oxide, he felt
a highly pleasurable sensation of warmth over his whole frame: he
adds, that the only motion which he felt inclined to make, was
that of laughing at those who were looking at him: a symptom as
equivocal, perhaps, as that exhibited by the Laureate.
A number of other accounts are given, but those already related are
perhaps sufficient to establish the fact, that the gas in question
possesses an intoxicating quality, to which the enthusiasm of
persons submitting to its operation has imparted a character of
extravagance wholly inconsistent with truth.
It will be admitted that there must have been something singularly
ludicrous in the whole exhibition. Imagine a party of grave
philosophers, with bags of silk tied to their mouths, stamping,
roaring, and laughing about the apartment; it is scarcely possible
to conceive a richer subject for the pencil of a Bunbury. We cannot
then be surprised at any terms of ridicule in which a stranger,
witnessing such an operation, might describe it. M. T. Fievée[29]
appears to have considered the practice as a national vice, and
whimsically introduces it amongst the catalogue of follies to which
he considers the English nation to be addicted.
[29] Lettres sur l'Angleterre, 1802.
Taking leave of these laughing philosophers, we must now proceed to
a much more serious branch of the subject of Pneumatic Medicine.
"Having observed," says Davy, "that no painful effects were
produced by the application of nitrous gas to the bare muscular
fibre, I began to imagine that this gas might also be breathed with
impunity, provided it were possible in any way to free the lungs of
common air before inspiration, so as to prevent the formation of
nitrous acid.
"On this supposition, during a fit of enthusiasm produced by the
respiration of nitrous oxide, I resolved to endeavour to breathe
nitrous gas: one hundred and fourteen cubic inches of it were
accordingly introduced into the large mercurial air-holder; two
small silk bags of the capacity of seven quarts were filled with
nitrous oxide.
"After a forced exhaustion of my lungs, my nose being accurately
closed, I made three inspirations and expirations of nitrous oxide
in one of the bags, in order to free my lungs, as much as possible,
from atmospheric oxygen; then, after a full expiration of the
nitrous oxide, I transferred my lips from the mouthpiece of the bag
to that of the air-holder, and, turning the stop-cock, attempted to
inspire the nitrous gas. In passing through my mouth and fauces,
it tasted astringent and highly disagreeable; it occasioned a sense
of burning in the throat, and produced a spasm of the epiglottis,
so painful as to oblige me to desist immediately from attempts to
inspire it. After removing my lips from the mouthpiece, when I
opened them to inspire common air, _nitrous acid_ was immediately
formed in my mouth, which burnt the tongue and palate, injured the
teeth, and produced an inflammation of the mucous membrane, which
lasted for some hours.
"As, after the respiration of nitrous oxide, a small portion of the
residual atmospheric air always remained in the lungs mingled with
the gas, so is it probable that, in the experiment just related, a
minute portion of nitrous acid was formed; and, if so, I perhaps
owe the preservation of my life to the circumstance; for, supposing
that I had succeeded in taking a full inspiration of nitrous
gas, and even that it had not produced any positive effects, it
is not likely that I should, by breathing nitrous oxide, have
so completely freed my lungs from it, as to have prevented the
formation of nitrous acid, when I again inspired common air. I
never design again to attempt so rash an experiment."
His attempt to breathe carburetted hydrogen gas was scarcely less
terrific and appalling.
"Mr. Watt's observations on the respiration of diluted
_hydro-carbonate_ by man, and the experiments of Dr. Beddoes on the
destruction of animals by the same gas, proved that its effects
were highly deleterious.
"As it destroyed life, apparently by rendering the muscular fibre
inirritable, without producing any previous excitement, I was
anxious to compare its sensible effects with those of nitrous
oxide, which at this time I believed to destroy life by producing
the highest possible excitement.
"In the first experiment, I breathed for nearly a minute three
quarts of _hydro-carbonate_, mingled with nearly two quarts of
atmospheric air.[30] It produced a slight giddiness, pain in
the head, and a momentary loss of voluntary power; my pulse was
rendered much quicker and more feeble. These effects, however, went
off in five minutes, and I had no return of giddiness.
[30] "I believe it had never been breathed before by any
individual in a state so little diluted."
"Emboldened by this trial, I introduced into a silk bag four
quarts of gas nearly pure, which was carefully produced from the
decomposition of water by charcoal an hour before, and which had a
very strong and disagreeable smell.
"My friend Mr. James Tobin, junior, being present, after a forced
exhaustion of my lungs, the nose being accurately closed, I made
three inspirations and expirations of the hydro-carbonate. The
first inspiration produced a sort of numbness and loss of feeling
in the chest, and about the pectoral muscles. After the second, I
lost all power of perceiving external things, and had no distinct
sensation, except that of a terrible oppression on the chest.
During the third expiration, this feeling subsided, I seemed
sinking into annihilation, and had just power enough to cast off
the mouthpiece from my unclosed lips.
"A short interval must have passed, during which I respired
common air, before the objects around me were distinguishable.
On recollecting myself, I faintly articulated, '_I do not think
I shall die._' Placing my finger on the wrist, I found my pulse
thread-like, and beating with excessive quickness. In less than a
minute, I was able to walk, and the painful oppression on the chest
directed me to the open air.
"After making a few steps, which carried me to the garden, my
head became giddy, my knees trembled, and I had just sufficient
voluntary power to throw myself on the grass. Here the painful
feelings of the chest increased with such violence as to threaten
suffocation. At this moment I asked for some nitrous oxide. Mr.
Dwyer brought me a mixture of that gas with oxygen, and I breathed
it for a minute, and believed myself recovered.
"In five minutes the painful feelings began gradually to diminish;
in an hour they had nearly disappeared, and I felt only excessive
weakness, and a slight swimming of the head. My voice was very
feeble and indistinct.
"I afterwards walked slowly for half an hour with Mr. Tobin, and on
my return was so much stronger and better as to believe that the
effects of the gas had entirely passed off; though my pulse was
120, and very feeble. I continued without pain for nearly three
quarters of an hour, when the giddiness returned with such violence
as to oblige me to lie on the bed; it was accompanied with nausea,
loss of memory, and deficient sensation.
"In about an hour and a half, the giddiness went off, and was
succeeded by an excruciating pain in the forehead, and between the
eyes, with transient pains in the chest and extremities.
"Towards night these affections gradually diminished; and at ten no
disagreeable feeling, except weakness, remained. I slept sound, and
awoke in the morning very feeble and very hungry. No recurrence of
the symptoms took place, and I had nearly recovered my strength by
the evening.
"I have been minute in the account of this experiment, because
it proves, that _hydro-carbonate_ acts as a sedative; that is,
it produces diminution of vital action, and consequent debility,
without previously exciting. There is every reason to believe that,
had I taken four or five inspirations, instead of three, they would
have destroyed life immediately, without producing any painful
sensation."
The scientific and medical world are alike indebted to Davy for
this daring experiment; and, if the precautions it suggests be
properly attended to, it may become the means of preserving
human life. The experiment is also valuable as affording support
to physiological views, with which its author was probably not
acquainted.
In the first place, it may be necessary to apprize some of my
readers, that the "_hydro-carbonate_" here spoken of, differs
very little from the gas now so generally used to illuminate our
streets and houses. We have just seen how deadly are its qualities,
and that even in a state of extreme dilution it will affect our
sensations. The question then necessarily suggests itself, how
far this gas can be safely introduced into the interior of our
apartments? Did we not possess any direct evidence upon the
subject, the answer would be sufficiently obvious, since it is
impossible so to conduct its combustion, that a portion shall not
escape unburnt. Such is the theory; but what is our experience
upon the subject?--that pains in the head, nausea, and distressing
languor, have been repeatedly experienced in our theatres and
saloons, by persons inhaling the unburnt gas; that the atmosphere
of a room, although spacious and empty, will, if lighted with gas,
convey a sense of oppression to our organs of respiration, as if
we were inhaling an air contaminated with the breath of a hundred
persons.
In the next place, Davy's experiment is important, inasmuch as it
proves that, in cases of asphyxia, or suspended animation, there
exists a period of danger after the respiration has been restored,
and the circulation re-established, at which death may take place,
when we are the least prepared to expect it.
Bichat has shown that, when dark-coloured blood is injected into
the vessels of the brain by means of a syringe connected with the
carotid artery, the functions of the brain become immediately
disturbed, and in a short time entirely cease: the effect is
precisely similar, whether the dark-coloured blood be transmitted
to the brain by the syringe of the experimentalist, or by the heart
itself. Thus in cases of asphyxia, the dark-coloured blood which
has been propelled through the vessels during the suspension or
imperfect performance of respiration, acts like a narcotic poison
upon the brain; and no sooner, therefore, does it extend its malign
influence to that organ, than deleterious effects are produced,
and the animal, after apparent recovery, falls into a state of
stupor, the pupils of the eyes become dilated, the respiration
laborious, the muscles of the body convulsed, and it speedily dies,
_poisoned by its own blood_.
We are much indebted to Mr. Brodie for a series of experiments in
confirmation of these views; and a very interesting case occurred
some time since, in the neighbourhood of Windsor, which is well
calculated for their illustration. A corporal in the Guards, whose
name, if I am not mistaken, was Schofield, was seized with cramp
as he was bathing in the Thames, and remained for several minutes
under water. By judicious assistance, however, he was recovered,
and appeared to those about him to be free from any danger, when he
was attacked by convulsions and expired. Had the respiration been
artificially supported at this period, so as to have maintained the
action of the heart until the black blood had returned from the
brain, the life of the soldier might possibly have been saved.
In the experiment which has given origin to these reflections, Davy
distinctly states, that after having recovered from the _primary_
effects of the carburetted hydrogen gas, and taken a walk with
his friend Mr. Tobin, he was again seized with violent giddiness,
attended with nausea and loss of sensation. The imperfectly
oxygenized or dark-coloured blood had evidently affected the brain,
and his life, at this period, was probably in greater jeopardy than
in any other stage of the experiment.
Nothing daunted by the dangers to which the preceding experiments
had exposed him, Davy did not allow more than a week to elapse
before he attempted to respire _fixed air_, or _carbonic acid gas_;
but it was in vain that he made voluntary efforts to draw it into
the windpipe; for, the moment the epiglottis was raised a little,
such a painful irritation was induced as instantly to close it
spasmodically on the glottis; and thus, in repeated trials, was he
prevented from taking a single particle of carbonic acid into the
lungs. When, however, the gas was diluted with a little more than
double its volume of common air, he was enabled to breathe it for
nearly a minute, when it produced a slight degree of giddiness, and
an inclination to sleep.[31]
[31] It would thus appear that carbonic acid, in its most
concentrated form, may kill by exciting a spasmodic action,
in which the epiglottis is closed, and the entrance of air
into the lungs altogether prevented. In a diluted form, it may
destroy by its specific influence upon the blood, which would
seem to be of a highly sedative character. Death produced by
such an agent is probably attended with little or no suffering.
The younger Berthollet destroyed his life by inclosing himself
in an atmosphere of this description; and on commencing his
fatal experiment, he registered all the successive feelings he
experienced, which were such as would have been occasioned by a
narcotic:--a pause, and then an almost illegible word occurred:
it is presumed that the pen dropped from his hand,--and he was no
more.
It may perhaps appear extraordinary to the reader of the
"RESEARCHES," that although they were published not more than
eighteen months after the appearance of his "Essays on Heat and
Light," no allusion is made in them either to his theory or to his
new nomenclature. In relating his experiments upon Respiration,
he employs the conventional language of the schools, and the
word "_phos-oxygen_" does not once occur in the volume. This is
fully explained in a communication made by him to Mr. Nicholson,
and which was printed in his Journal a short time after the
publication of his Essays in the West Country Contributions; in
which he says,--"As facts have occurred to me with regard to
the decomposition of bodies, which I had supposed to contain
light, without any luminous appearance, I beg to be considered
as a _sceptic_ with respect _to my own_ particular theory of
the combinations of light, until I shall have satisfactorily
explained those anomalies by fresh experiments. On account of this
scepticism, and for other reasons, I shall in future use the common
nomenclature; excepting that, as my discoveries concerning the
gaseous oxide would render it highly improper to call a principle,
which in one of its combinations is capable of being absorbed by
venous blood, and of increasing the powers of life, _azote_,--I
shall name it, with Dr. Pearson, Chaptal, and others, NITROGENE;
and the _gaseous oxide of azote_ I shall call NITROUS OXIDE."
The same feeling is expressed at the conclusion of his Third
Research.--"It would be easy to form theories referring the
action of blood impregnated with _nitrous oxide_, to its power of
supplying the nervous and muscular fibre with such proportions of
condensed nitrogen, oxygen, light, or ethereal fluid, as enabled
them more rapidly to pass through those changes which constitute
their life; but we are unacquainted with the composition of dead
organized matter; and new instruments of experiment, and new
modes of research, must be found, before we can ascertain even our
capabilities of discovering the laws of life."
There is one circumstance connected with the views entertained
in this work which must not be passed over without notice. In
several passages he advocates the theory of the atmosphere being
a _chemical compound_ of oxygen and nitrogen; whereas, in later
years, he was amongst the first to insist upon its being simply a
mechanical mixture of these gases.
In consequence of the highly deleterious experiments which have
been already described, and of the constant labours of the
laboratory, and the repeated inhalation of acid and other vapours,
his health began visibly to decline, and he retired into Cornwall,
where he informs us that "the associations of ideas and feelings,
common exercise, a pure atmosphere, luxurious diet, and a moderate
indulgence in wine, in the course of a month, restored him to
health and vigour."
I find an allusion to this visit in a letter from his sister. "He
had," she says, "written to his mother of his intention to visit
her, but before the post had quitted Bristol, he was already on
his way to Penzance, and would have reached it before his letter,
had not his aunt, on whom he called in the neighbouring town of
Marazion, struck with his appearance of ill health, insisted on his
remaining there till the next day, lest his mother should be doubly
alarmed at his unexpected visit and altered looks." Miss Davy adds,
"This one fact will serve, at the same time, to illustrate his
attachment to home, and the impetuosity of his mind, which never
rested till the object he proposed was accomplished."
The following letter is inserted in this place, for the purpose
of fixing the period at which he first ascertained those new
facts in Voltaic electricity, which formed the basis of a future
communication to the Royal Society, and which may be said to
have paved the way to his grand discoveries in that branch of
science;--the dawning of that glorious day, which we shall
presently view in all its splendour and glory.
There is, moreover, something extremely interesting in receiving
from himself a simple and unadorned statement of results, as they
successively presented themselves to his observation--"Truths
plucked as they are growing, and delivered to you before their dew
is brushed off."
TO DAVIES GIDDY, ESQ.
Pneumatic Institution, October 20, 1800.
Be assured, my respected friend, that your last letter, though
short, was highly gratifying to me. At the moment it was brought
to me, I was about to depart with King and Danvers on an excursion
to the banks of the Wye. Our design was to see Tintern Abbey by
moonlight, and it was perfectly accomplished.
After viewing for three hours all the varieties of light and
shade which a bright full moon and a blue sky could exhibit in
this beautiful ruin, and after wandering for three days among
the many-coloured woods and rocks surrounding the river between
Monmouth and Chepstow, we arrived on the fourth day at Bristol,
having to balance against the pleasure of the tour, the fatigue of
a stormy voyage down the Wye, across the mouth of the Severn, and
up the Avon.
On analysing, after our return, specimens of the air collected from
Monmouth, from the woods on the banks of the Wye, and from the
mouth of the Severn, there was no perceptible difference; they were
all of similar composition to the air in the middle of Bristol;
that is, they contained about twenty-two per cent. of oxygen.
The air from the bladders of some sea-weed, apparently just cast
on shore, at the Old Passage, likewise gave the same results; so
that, comparing these experiments with those made by Cavendish,
Berthollet, &c. and by myself on other occasions, at different
temperatures, in different weather, and with different winds, I
am almost convinced that the whole of the lower stratum of the
atmosphere is of uniform composition.
No test can be more fallacious and imperfect than nitrous gas, on
account of the different composition of nitrous acid, formed in the
different manipulations of eudiometrical experiments.
The eudiometer that I have lately employed gives, in a few minutes,
the proportions of oxygen without correction.
In pursuing experiments on galvanism, during the last two months,
I have met with unexpected and unhoped-for success. Some of the
new facts on this subject promise to afford instruments capable of
destroying the mysterious veil which Nature has thrown over the
operations and properties of ethereal fluids.
Galvanism I have found, by numerous experiments, to be a _process
purely chemical_, and to depend wholly on the oxidation of metallic
surfaces, having different degrees of electric conducting power.
Zinc is incapable of decomposing _pure_ water; and if the zinc
plates be kept moist with _pure_ water, the galvanic pile does not
act; but zinc is capable of oxidating itself when placed in contact
with water, holding in solution either oxygen, atmospheric air,
or nitrous or muriatic acid, &c.: and under such circumstances,
the galvanic phenomena are produced, and their intensity is in
proportion to the rapidity with which the zinc is oxidated.
The galvanic pile only acts for a few minutes, when introduced into
hydrogen, nitrogen, or hydro-carbonate; that is, only as long as
the water between its plates holds some oxygen in solution: immerse
it for a few moments in water containing air, and it acts again.
It acts very vividly in oxygen gas, and less so in the atmosphere.
When its plates are moistened by marine acid, its action is very
powerful, but infinitely more so when nitrous acid is employed.
Five plates with nitrous acid gave sparks equal to those of the
common pile. From twenty plates the shock was insupportable.
I had almost forgotten to mention, that charcoal is a good galvanic
exciter, and decomposes water, like the metals, in the pile; but
I must stop, without being able to expatiate on the connection
which is now obvious between galvanism and some of the phenomena
of organic motion. I never consider the subject without having
forcibly impressed upon my imagination your observations[32] on the
science of the ethereal fluids, and I cannot help flattering myself
that this age will see your predictions verified. I remain with
sincere respect and affection,
Yours,
HUMPHRY DAVY.
[32] On conversing with Mr. Gilbert on the above passage, I
understand that it is an allusion to his opinion, that the
discovery of Galvanic power would ultimately lead to a knowledge
of the nature of light and heat.
That a work, of the character of the "RESEARCHES," replete with
ingenious novelty, and rich in chemical discovery, proceeding
from the pen of so young a man, should have excited very general
admiration in the philosophic world, is a circumstance that cannot
surprise us; but in a majority of cases, precocious merit enjoys
only an ephemeral popularity; the sensations it excites are too
vivid to be permanent, and the individual sinks into an obscurity
rendered ten times more profound by the brilliancy of the flash
which preceded it; but every event of Davy's life would appear
as if created, and directed for his welfare, by some presiding
genius, whose activity, in throwing opportunities in his way was
rivalled only by the address with which he converted them to his
advantage. Fortune and talent, then, were both equally engaged
in accomplishing the elevation of Davy, and it is probable that
eminent success generally requires a combination of these elements
for its production, and that the maxim of Plautus is therefore as
remote from truth as that of Theophrastus, the one assigning all to
fortune, the other all to talent.
The experiments to which allusions have been frequently made
during the present chapter, favourably as they were received,
might have shared the fate of many other discoveries which did
not admit of an immediate and obvious application to the purposes
of common life; for statistical value is a necessary passport to
popular favour. Fortunately, however, for Davy, before the vivid
impression produced by his new work had lost the glow of novelty,
Count Rumford was anxiously seeking for some rising philosopher,
who might contribute his energies towards the support, and farther
increase, of the chemical fame of the recently established
"INSTITUTION OF GREAT BRITAIN."
It is not surprising that his attention should have
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