“Now that he was intent on recovery, he no longer took the same interest in my examination of the torpedo, as if he looked forward to the time when he should be able to enter into the investigation actively again.”
At the beginning of April Lady Davy arrived from England, and he had so far improved that it was decided to remove him to Geneva. By easy stages, and occasional halts of two or three days at the more interesting places, he arrived at Geneva on May 28th. He bore the journey well: the delightful freshness of the spring, the bursting vegetation, the many streams, the pure mountain air, and the indescribable influence of Alpine scenery, seemed to invigorate him. On his arrival at the inn (“La Couronne”) he walked to the window, looked out upon the lake, and expressed a longing wish to throw a fly upon its blue waters. Lady Davy here broke to him the news of the death of his old friend and colleague, Thomas Young. This, coming so soon after the loss of Wollaston, profoundly affected him. During the evening he struck his elbow against the projecting arm of the sofa on which he sat; the blow gave him great pain, and seemed to have the most extraordinary effect. He was got to bed as soon as possible. He took an anodyne, and desired to be left alone. Soon after midnight he was found to be insensible, and shortly before three on the morning of the 29th of May he died. In his will he had enjoined that he should be buried where he died: Natura curat suas reliquias, he had written.
The City gave him a public funeral, and representatives of every institution in the town followed his remains to their resting-place in the cemetery at Plain-Palais. A simple monument, with the following inscription, marks the spot:—
Hic jacet
HUMPHRY DAVY
Eques Magnæ Britanniæ Baronetus
Olim Regiæ Societ. Londin. Præses
Summus Arcanorum Naturæ indigator.
Natus Penzantiæ Cornubiensum XVII Decemb. MDCCLXXVIII.
Obiit Genevæ Helvetiorum XXIX Mai MDCCCXXIX.
His widow placed a tablet to his memory in the north transept of Westminster Abbey. His baronetcy died with him. By his will he directed that the service of plate given to him by the coal-owners should, after Lady Davy’s death, pass to his brother, and that in the event of his having no heirs in a position to make use of it, it should be melted and given to the Royal Society, “to found a medal to be given annually for the most important discovery in chemistry anywhere made in Europe or Anglo-America.” This is the origin of the Davy Medal which has been awarded annually by the Society since 1877.
Many eloquent tributes have been paid to the genius and labours of Davy, and some of these eulogies are among the most brilliant passages in the literature of science. One of the best-known is from the gifted pen of Dr. Henry in the preface to his “Elements of Chemistry,” published soon after Davy’s death. He thus sketches the more striking characteristics of the great chemist.
“Davy,” he says, “was imbued with the spirit, and was a master of the practice, of the inductive logic; and he has left us some of the noblest examples of the efficacy of that great instrument of human reason in the discovery of truth. He applied it not only to connect classes of facts of more limited extent and importance but to develope great and comprehensive laws, which embrace phenomena that are almost universal to the natural world. In explaining these laws, he cast upon them the illuminations of his own clear and vivid conceptions;—he felt an intense admiration of the beauty, order and harmony which are conspicuous in the perfect chemistry of Nature;—and he expressed these feelings with a force of eloquence which could issue only from a mind of the highest powers and of the finest sensibilities.”
Not less forcible or eloquent, although hardly so well known, is the estimate in Silliman’s American Journal of Science and Arts for January, 1830. After an analysis, of Davy’s mental attributes the writer concludes:—
“We look upon Sir Humphry Davy as having afforded a striking example of what the Romans called a man of good fortune;—whose success, even in their view, was not however the result of accident, but of ingenuity and wisdom to devise plans, and of skill and industry to bring them to a successful issue. He was fortunate in his theories, fortunate in his discoveries, and fortunate in living in an age sufficiently enlightened to appreciate his merits;—unlike, in this last particular, to Newton, who (says Voltaire), although he lived forty years after the publication of the Principia, had not, at the time of his death, twenty readers out of Britain. Some might even entertain the apprehension that so extensive a popularity among his contemporaries is the presage of a short-lived fame; but his reputation is too intimately associated with the eternal laws of Nature to suffer decay; and the name of Davy, like those of Archimedes, Galileo and Newton, which grow greener by time, will descend to the latest posterity.”
Such, then, is the story of a life of fruitful endeavour and splendid achievement;—the record of one who, if not wholly good or truly noble, has left a track of greatness in his passage through the world.