The curtain rises on the last act, at Rome, where he passed the winter. Here—where he describes himself, in a letter dated 6th February, 1829, to his friend Poole, as 'a ruin among ruins'—he received, a fortnight after that date, his last and fatal shock of paralysis. It was quite unexpected by him, and he was barely able to write one or two hurried letters to his brother, begging him to come quickly. He now quite made up his mind that he was about to die; but his mind continued calm and clear, and he urged Dr. Davy, when he at length arrived, not to give way to any vain regrets, but to regard the matter philosophically. Even in this extremity, the consideration of the strange powers of the torpedo exercised a fascinating influence over him; and he directed experiments and dissections of the fish from the bed upon which he not only believed himself to be dying, but upon which he thought, more than once, that he had actually died. Only with great difficulty was he persuaded by his wife and surrounding friends that he had not as yet passed the dark portals of the grave.
It will hardly be believed that from such a state as this he rallied. Yet such was the case! Lady Davy had brought with her from England an early copy of the second edition of his 'Salmonia;' and he read it with avidity. Indeed reading—or rather being read to—was now almost his only pursuit. Moore's 'Epicurean,' Shakespeare, 'The Arabian Nights,' and 'Humphrey Clinker,' by turns engaged his attention; and at length he not only thought recovery possible, but by April was actually able to take drives about Rome and its neighbourhood, entering fully, with his companions, into all the enjoyment of the charms of a brilliant Italian spring.
At length, leaving Rome, 'by slow and easy stages,' they came to Geneva, which place they reached on the 28th May, by the Mont Cenis route. Here the little party took up their residence at La Couronne hotel, which overlooks the lake; and Davy expressed an earnest desire once more to throw a fly on it. He was very deeply affected on hearing of the death of his old friend Dr. Thomas Young; but dined heartily with the others at five o'clock. After dinner he was heard joking with the waiter as to the cooking of the fish, and desiring that he might be furnished with a specimen of every variety which the lake contained; and, after being read to as usual, he went to bed at nine. In rising, however, from his chair at the dinner table, for this purpose, he gave his elbow a rather violent blow, the sensations resulting from which frightened him very much, and probably accelerated his decease. At half-past two in the morning the servant aroused Dr. Davy with the information that his illustrious brother was much worse. The doctor flew to the chamber, but only in time to see Sir Humphry expire, just as the morning of the 29th of May, 1829, began to dawn.
His will was proved under £30,000, and Lady Davy was appointed sole executrix. Paris says that he left £100 to the Penzance Grammar School, the interest to be devoted to a prize for the best scholar, provided the school kept holiday on the anniversary of his birthday; but I do not find this in the will. I believe that the interest on the money is still paid, but that the holiday is omitted.
A public funeral was decreed him by the authorities and literati of Geneva, including his friends Decandolle and Sismondi, who highly appreciated him; and his mortal remains were deposited in the cemetery at Plain-Palais, close to those of Professor Pictet.[119] It was Davy's wish, as expressed in his will, to be buried wherever he might die: 'Natura curat suas reliquias,' he wrote; and on his monument will be found the reason of this lofty reliance—namely, because he was
'Summus arcanorum Naturæ indigator.' [120]
Thus died, without issue, and within a few months of his great friends Wollaston and Young, Sir Humphry Davy, poet and philosopher, before he had completed his fifty-first year—a man (to use the words of Dr. Paris) 'whose splendid discoveries illumined the age in which he lived, adorned the country which gave him birth, and obtained from foreign and hostile nations the homage of admiration and the meed of gratitude.'
His genius it would be presumptuous in me to endeavour to analyze or describe. I have attempted a biographical sketch rather than an essay on Davy's proper place in the ranks of science;[121] but he was undoubtedly one of the master-spirits of his age; and I gladly select, from among many other similar accounts, the peroration of the éloge pronounced upon him by Baron Cuvier before the Institute of France:
'Ainsi a fini à cinquante ans, sur une terre étrangère, un génie dont le nom brillera avec éclat parmi cette foule s'éclatante de noms dont s'enarguillit la Grande Bretagne. Mais, que dis je, pour un tel homme aucune terre n'est étrangère; Genève surtout ne pouvait pas l'être, où, depuis vingt ans, il comptait des amis intimes, des admirateurs sans cesse occupés de répandre ses decouvertes sur le Continent; aussi, le deuil n'eût pas été plus grand ni les obsèques plus honorables pour un de leur concitoyens les plus respectés.'
The talented and indefatigable editors of the 'Bibliotheca Cornubiensis' have observed that, since the formation of the Royal Society, fifty-eight persons, either born in Cornwall or long resident within its borders, have become, through their eminence in mineralogical and other pursuits, Fellows of that body. A full list of their names is printed in the index to Messrs. Boase and Courtney's work; and in it they rightly say that Cornishmen may be pardoned for believing that no such record of distinction in scientific knowledge could be drawn up from any English county of corresponding size and population. I will only add my opinion that, amongst the foremost in that bright roll of honour, stands forth the name of HUMPHRY DAVY.