D.—1795.

THE SONG OF PLEASURE.

D.—1796.

ODE TO SAINT MICHAEL'S MOUNT, IN CORNWALL.

D.—1796.

THE TEMPEST.

D.—1796.

EXTRACT FROM AN UNFINISHED POEM
ON MOUNT'S BAY.

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.

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."

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.