My dear Poole, your affectionate friend,
H. Davy.
Mr. Poole has been so obliging as to communicate to me some interesting particulars connected with the visit to which the foregoing letters allude.
"During this last visit, (November and December 1827,) his bodily infirmity was very great, and his sensibility was painfully alive on every occasion. Unhappily, he had to sustain the affliction of the sudden death of Mr. R——, the son of a friend whom he highly valued; and though this afflicting event was, by the considerate and anxious attention of Lady Davy, first communicated to me by letter, to be imparted to him with every precaution, to avoid his being suddenly shocked, yet it was many days before he could recover his usual spirits, feeble as they were, and resume his wonted occupation.
"On his arrival, he said, 'Here I am, the ruin of what I was;' but nevertheless, the same activity and ardour of mind continued, though directed to different objects. He employed himself two or three hours in the morning on his Salmonia, which he was then writing; he would afterwards take a short walk, which he accomplished with difficulty, or ride. After dinner, I used to read to him some amusing book. We were particularly interested by Southey's Life of Nelson. 'It would give Southey,' he said, 'great pleasure, if he knew how much his narrative affected us.'[108]
"In the evening, Mr. and Mrs. W——, the former of whom he had long known, frequently came to make a rubber at whist. He was averse to seeing strangers; but on being shown the drawings of Natural History of a friend of mine of great talent, Mr. Baker of Bridgwater, he was anxious to know him, and was much pleased with his company. He suggested to him various subjects for investigation, concerning insects, and fish, particularly the eel. What pleasure would it give him were he now alive, to learn the interesting result of those suggestions! I hope the public will soon be made acquainted with them.
"Natural History in general had been a favourite subject with him throughout his protracted illness; and during this last visit to me, he paid attention to that only; 'for,' said he, 'I am prohibited applying, and indeed I am incapable of applying, to any thing which requires severe attention.'
"During the same visit, I remember his inherent love of the laboratory, if I may so express myself, being manifested in a manner which much interested me at the moment. On his visiting with me a gentleman in this neighbourhood, who had offered him his house, and who has an extensive philosophical apparatus, particularly complete in electricity and chemistry, he was fatigued with the journey, and as we were walking round the house very languidly, a door opened, and we were in the laboratory. He threw a glance around the room, his eyes brightened in the action, a glow came over his countenance, and he looked like himself, as he was accustomed to appear twenty years ago.
"You are aware that he was latterly a good shot, always an expert angler, and a great admirer of old Isaac Walton; and that he highly prided himself upon these accomplishments. I used to laugh at him, which he did not like; but it amused me to see such a man give so much importance to those qualifications. He would say, 'It is not the sport only, though there is great pleasure in successful dexterity,[109] but it is the ardour of pursuit, pure air, the contemplation of a fine country, and the exercise—all tend to invigorate the body, and to excite the mind to its best efforts.'
"These amusements seemed to become more and more important in his estimation, as his health declined. It was affecting to observe the efforts he made to continue them with diminished strength. From being unable to walk without fatigue for many hours, he was, when he came to me in November 1826, obliged to have a pony to carry him to the field, from which he dismounted only on the certainty of immediate sport. In the following year, he could only take short and occasional rides to the covers, with his dogs around him, and his servant walking by his side and carrying his gun, but which I believe he never fired.
"During this visit, he more than once observed, 'I do not wish to live, as far as I am personally concerned; but I have views which I could develope, if it pleased God to save my life, which would be useful to science and to mankind.'"