It is scarcely necessary to add, that all the parties concerned in this transaction most readily and cheerfully met Davy's wishes, all erroneous impressions were effaced, and the affair was adjusted amicably and satisfactorily; and he prepared to quit England with a mind relieved from all the fears and anxieties which had so unfortunately oppressed it.
After the Emperor of the French had sternly refused his passport to several of the most illustrious noblemen of England, it was scarcely to be expected that Sir H. Davy would have been allowed to travel through France, in order to visit the extinct volcanoes in Auvergne, and afterwards to examine that which was in a state of activity at Naples.
No sooner, however, had the discovery of the decomposition of the alkalies and earths, and its probable bearings upon the philosophy of volcanic action, been represented by the Imperial Institute to Napoleon, than, with a liberality worthy of the liberator of Dolomieu, and consistent with his well-known patronage of science, he immediately and unconditionally extended the required indulgence.
In consequence of this permission, Sir Humphry and Lady Davy, the former accompanied by Mr. Faraday as secretary and chemical assistant, and the latter by her own waiting-maid, quitted London on the 13th of October 1813, and proceeded to Plymouth; at which port they immediately embarked in a cartel for Morlaix in Brittany.
On landing in France, they were instantly arrested by the local authorities of the town, who very reasonably questioned the authenticity of their passports, believing it impossible that a party of English should, under any circumstances, have obtained permission to travel over the Continent, at a time when the only English in France were detained as prisoners. They were accordingly compelled to remain during a period of six or seven days at the town of Morlaix, until the necessary instructions could be received from Paris. As soon, however, as a satisfactory answer was returned, they were set at liberty; and they reached the French capital on the evening of the 27th of the same month.
Shortly after his arrival, Davy called upon his old friend and associate Mr. Underwood, who, although one of the détenus, had during the whole war enjoyed the indulgence of residing in the capital.
The expected arrival of Davy had been a subject of conversation with the French savans for more than a month. Amongst those who were loudest in his praises, was M. Ampère, who had for several years frequently expressed his opinion that Davy was the greatest chemist that had ever appeared. Whether this flattering circumstance had been communicated to the English philosopher I have no means of ascertaining; but Mr. Underwood informs me that the very first wish that Davy expressed was to be introduced to this gentleman, whom he considered as the only chemist in Paris who had duly appreciated the value of his discoveries; an opinion which he afterwards took no care to conceal, and which occasioned amongst the savans much surprise, and some dissatisfaction. M. Ampère, at the time of Davy's arrival, was spending the summer at a place a few miles from Paris, in consequence of which the introduction so much desired was necessarily delayed.
On the 30th he was conducted by Mr. Underwood to the Louvre. The English philosopher walked with a rapid step along the gallery, and, to the great astonishment and mortification of his friend and cicerone, did not direct his attention to a single painting; the only exclamation of surprise that escaped him was—"What an extraordinary collection of fine frames!"—On arriving opposite to Raphael's picture of the Transfiguration, Mr. Underwood could no longer suppress his surprise, and in a tone of enthusiasm he directed the attention of the philosopher to that most sublime production of art, and the chef d'œuvre of the collection. Davy's reply was as laconic as it was chilling—"Indeed, I am glad I have seen it;" and then hurried forward, as if he were desirous of escaping from any critical remarks upon its excellencies.
They afterwards descended to view the statues in the lower apartments: here he displayed the same frigid indifference towards the higher works of art. A spectator of the scene might have well imagined that some mighty spell was in operation, by which the order of nature had been reversed:—while the marble glowed with more than human passion, the living man was colder than stone! The apathy, the total want of feeling he betrayed on having his attention directed to the Apollo Belvidere, the Laocoon, and the Venus de Medicis, was as inexplicable as it was provoking; but an exclamation of the most vivid surprise escaped him at the sight of an Antinous, treated in the Egyptian style, and sculptured in Alabaster.[3]—"Gracious powers," said he, "what a beautiful stalactite!"