Davy would appear to have been very early impressed with the importance of Chemistry, in its various applications to Agriculture. Allusions are constantly made to it in his letters; and at the conclusion of his "Researches," he glances at this department of the chemistry of vegetation, and observes that, "although it is immediately connected with the art upon which we depend for subsistence, it has been but little investigated."
In his introductory lecture of 1802, he speaks more forcibly upon the subject.
"Agriculture, to which we owe our means of subsistence, is an art intimately connected with chemical science; for although the common soil of the earth will produce vegetable food, yet it can only be made to produce it in the greatest quantity, and of the best quality, by methods of cultivation dependent upon scientific principles.
"The knowledge of the composition of soils, of the food of vegetables, of the modes in which their products must be treated, so as to become fit for the nourishment of animals, is essential to the cultivator of land; and his exertions are profitable and useful to society, in proportion as he is more of a chemical professor. Since indeed the truth has been understood, and since the importance of agriculture has been generally felt, the character of the agriculturist has become more dignified, and more refined;—no longer a mere machine of labour, he has learned to think, and to reason. He is aware of his usefulness to his fellow-men, and he is become, at once, the friend of nature, and the friend of society."
His appointment, as chemical professor to the Board of Agriculture, was accompanied with the obligation of reading lectures before its members; which he continued to deliver every successive season for ten years, modifying and extending their views, from time to time, in such a manner as the progress of chemical discovery might render necessary.
These discourses were collated, and published in the year 1813, at the request of the President and members of the Board, and they form the only systematic work we, at present, possess on the subject. Its views, however, are too generally interesting to be briefly dismissed; I shall therefore enter more fully into their merits in a more advanced part of these memoirs.
His connexion with the Board necessarily brought him in contact with the practical agriculturists and capitalists of the day, with many of whom he formed friendships which lasted through life. With Mr. Coke of Holkham he became well acquainted, and generally formed one of the party at his annual sheep-shearing.[45] He was also a frequent visitor at Woburn, and received from the Duke the means by which he was enabled to submit to the test of practice various theories which his science had suggested.
In a letter to Mr. Gilbert, dated October 1803, he says: "I have just quitted the coast of Sussex, where I have spent the last three weeks with Lord Sheffield, the worthy biographer of Gibbon." In fact, there was not a nobleman, distinguished for intellectual superiority, who did not feel a pride in receiving him as a guest; and he passed his vacations in the society of those exalted persons who, in possessing rank, fortune, and talents, felt that they only held such gifts from Providence, in trust for the welfare of their fellow-countrymen.
We can scarcely picture to ourselves a being upon whom fortune ever showered more favours than upon Davy, during this golden period of his career. Independent in an honourable competence, the product of his genius and industry; resident in the centre of all scientific information and intelligence; every avenue of knowledge, and every mode of observation open to his unwearied intellect, he must have experienced a satisfaction which few philosophers have ever before felt,—the power of pursuing experimental research to any extent, and of commanding the immediate possession of all the means it might require, without the least regard either to cost or labour. What a contrast does this picture afford to that which has been too faithfully represented as the more usual fate of the philosopher and man of letters, and which exhibits little more than the unavailing struggles of genius against penury! Instead of a life consumed in fruitless expectation of patronage and reward, we behold Davy, in the full bloom of reputation, courted by all whom rank, talent, or station, had rendered conspicuous.
His life flowed on like a pure stream, under a sky of perpetual sunshine,—not a gust ruffled its surface, not a cloud obscured its brightness. In the morning, he was the sage interpreter of Nature's laws; in the evening, he sparkled in the galaxy of fashion; and not the least extraordinary point in the character of this great man, was the facility with which he could cast aside the cares of study, and enter into the trifling amusements of society.—"Ne otium quidem otiosum," was the exclamation of Cicero; and it will generally apply to the leisure of men actively engaged in the pursuits of science; but Davy, in closing the door of his laboratory, opened the temple of pleasure. When not otherwise engaged, his custom was to play at billiards, frequent the theatre, or read the last new novel. In ordinary cases, the genius of evening dissipation is an arrant Penelope; but Davy, on returning to his morning labours, never found that the thread had been unspun during the interruption.