It was a question anxiously discussed by the friends of Davy, how far his elevation to the chair of the Royal Society was calculated to advance the cause of science, or to increase the lustre of his own fame. It will be readily perceived that this is a question perplexed by various conflicting interests, for it not only involves considerations relating to the character of the person, but to that also of the constitution and objects of the Society over which he is called upon to preside.
It is still doubtful whether the Royal Society, in the present advanced state of science, can derive advantage from possessing in its President, a philosopher actively engaged in any one branch of experimental enquiry. Sir Humphry Davy, in his first address from the chair, took occasion to observe, that "in the early periods of the establishment, when apparatus was procured with difficulty, when the greatest philosophers were obliged to labour with their own hands to frame their instruments, it was found expedient to keep in the rooms of the Society a collection of all such machines as were likely to be useful in the progress of experimental knowledge; and curators and operators were employed, by whom many capital experiments were made under the eyes of the Society.[64] But since the improvement of the mechanical and chemical arts has afforded greater facilities as to the means of carrying on experimental research, the transactions of the Fellows, recorded by the Society, have, with some few exceptions, been performed in their own laboratories, and at their own expense."
In deciding upon the qualifications necessary for a President, this altered state of the Society must not be overlooked; nor can it be concealed, that the great discoveries of modern science have been achieved without any direct assistance from the Royal Society. Davy would have discovered the laws of electro-chemistry, and applied them for the decomposition of the alkalies—and the genius of Dalton would, by his atomic doctrine, have "snatched the science from the chaos of indefinite combination, and have bound it in the chains of number," had the Society never existed. At the same time, it must be allowed that, although it may not have directly advanced the progress of science, it has materially assisted its cause, by perpetuating the spirit of philosophical enquiry, and the love of scientific glory—by keeping alive upon the altar the sacred flame that genius may have kindled.
In the present state of science, the Royal Society imparts an inspiring principle to its various branches, by affording a rallying point, a centre of communication, to the philosophers of all nations, to whom kindred pursuits may render personal intercourse beneficial; and it becomes the paramount duty of the chief of this great republic so to preside over its arrangements, as to foster and encourage such an alliance. To this end, he must promote feelings of mutual kindness and liberality; and as the friend and umpire to all parties, it is his office to settle disagreement, to soothe disappointment, to kindle hope, and to subdue the vehemence which "engenders strife," in order that rivalship shall not pass into hostility, nor emulation degenerate into envy. It is evident that the talents and qualifications necessary for the discharge of such duties are of the highest order, extensive in their range, and diversified in their character. To which, however harshly the word may grate upon the ear of the philosopher, WEALTH must be considered as an essential and indispensable condition.
It may be fairly asked, whether a philosopher actively engaged in the pursuit of any branch of science, is so well adapted for the performance of such varied duties, as the person who possesses a general acquaintance with every department, but is not exclusively devoted to the investigation of any one branch; for, however correct may be his decisions, or unbiassed his judgment, the conduct of the former will ever be open to the charge of partiality, and the bare existence of such a suspicion, though it may be wholly groundless, will carry with it a train of evils. It is not in human nature to believe that the looker-on, and he who plays the game, are alike indifferent to the cards.[65]
On the other hand, it may be urged with some force, that the Presidency of the Royal Society should be reserved as the fair reward of scientific labours, and not as an appendage to rank or to wealth:—that in England, we may in vain search amongst the aristocracy for one who feels a dignified respect for the sciences, and who is willing to afford that time which the faithful discharge of its duties would require.
To assert that Davy retained his popularity, or to deny that he retired from the office under the frown of a considerable party, would be dishonest. I would willingly dismiss this part of his life without too nice an examination; but I am writing a history, not an eloge.
As a philosopher, his claims to admiration and respect were allowed in all their latitude; but when he sought for the homage due to patrician distinction, they were denied with indignation. How strange it is, that those whom Nature has placed above their fellow men by the god-like gift of genius, should seek from their inferiors those distinctions which are generally the rewards of fortune. When we learn that Congreve, in his interview with Voltaire, prided himself upon his fashion rather than upon his wit; that Byron was more vain of his heraldry than of his "Pilgrimage of Childe Harold;" that Racine pined into an atrophy, because the monarch passed him without a recognition in the ante-room of the palace, and that Davy sighed for patrician distinction in the chair of Newton, we can only lament the weakness from which the choicest spirits of our nature are not exempt. Will philosophers never feel, with Walpole, that "a genius transmits more honour by blood than he can receive?" Had the blood of forty generations of nobility flowed in the veins of Davy, would his name have commanded higher homage, or his discoveries have excited greater admiration? But great minds have ever had their points of weakness: an inordinate admiration of hereditary rank was the cardinal deformity of Davy's character; it was the centre from which all his defects radiated, and continually placed him in false positions; for the man who rests his claims upon doubtful or ill-defined pretensions, from a sense of his insecurity, naturally becomes jealous at every apparent inattention, and he is suspicious of the sincerity of that respect which he feels may be the fruit of usurpation. If with these circumstances we take into consideration the existence of a natural timidity of character, which he sought to conquer by efforts that betrayed him into awkwardness of manner, and combine with it an irritability of temperament which occasionally called up expressions of ill-humour, we at once possess a clue by which we may unravel the conduct of our philosopher, and the consequences it brought upon himself during his presidency of the Royal Society. Nor must we leave out of sight that inattention to certain forms which, amongst those who are incapable of penetrating beyond the surface of character, passes for the offensive carelessness of superiority. Davy, after the example of Sir Joseph Banks, opened his house on one evening of the week for the reception of the Fellows of the Royal Society, and of other persons who were actively engaged in any scientific pursuit; but the invitations to these soirées were so irregularly managed, that they frequently gave offence, where they were intended to convey a compliment.
Conflicting opinions, respecting the management of the Royal Institution, most unfortunately also arose, and the President of the Royal Society, presuming upon his former alliance with that establishment, and upon the high obligations conferred upon it by the splendid discoveries he had achieved within its walls, was encouraged to exercise an authority which provoked an angry dissatisfaction;—schisms arose, and the party-spirit thus kindled in Albemarle Street soon spread to Somerset House.—But let us turn to the brighter part of the picture. In the discharge of the more important duties of his office, the Society received the full benefit of his talents and his virtues. At its meetings, he was constant in attendance, and dignified in his conduct and deportment; in its councils, he was firm in his resolves, correct in his judgments, zealous in his plans,[66] and impartial in his decisions. It has been said that he unduly favoured the pursuits of chemistry, to the injury and depression of the other branches of science: this is not the fact, as a reference to the Philosophical Transactions will amply testify; and the awards of the Copley medals will moreover show, that he alike extended the animating influence of his patronage to every part of natural philosophy. I am authorised by Sir James South to state, that during his negotiations with the Government, for the purpose of securing to the British Nation the unalienable use of his splendid instruments, by the erection of a permanent observatory, Sir Humphry Davy was indefatigable in his exertions to accomplish so important an object; and that on one occasion, in the midst of severe illness, he travelled at no inconsiderable risk to London, from the distant seat of his friend Mr. Knight, to advocate a cause so essential, in his judgment, to the interests of Astronomy.