"Mr. Herschel—Receive this medal, Sir, as a mark of our respect, and of our admiration of those talents which you have applied with so much zeal and success, and preserve it as a pledge of future exertions in the cause of Science and of the Royal Society; and, believe me, you can communicate your labours to no public body by whom they willbe better received, or through whose records they will be better known to the philosophical world. You are in the prime of life, in the beginning of your career, and you have powers and acquirements capable of illustrating and extending every branch of physical enquiry; and, in the field of science, how many are the spots not yet cultivated! Where the laws of sensible become connected with those of insensible motions, the mechanical with the chemical phenomena, how little is known! In electricity, magnetism, in the relations of crystallized forms to the weight of the elements of bodies, what a number of curious and important objects of research! and they are objects which you are peculiarly qualified to pursue and illustrate."May you continue to devote yourself to philosophical pursuits, and to exalt your reputation, already so high—'Virtutem extendere factis.'And these pursuits you will find not only glorious, but dignified, useful, and gratifying in every period of life: this, indeed, you must know best in the example of your illustrious father, who, full of years and of honours, must view your exertions with infinite pleasure; and who, in the hopes that his own imperishable name will be permanently connected with yours in the annals of philosophy, must look forward to a double immortality."
"Mr. Herschel—Receive this medal, Sir, as a mark of our respect, and of our admiration of those talents which you have applied with so much zeal and success, and preserve it as a pledge of future exertions in the cause of Science and of the Royal Society; and, believe me, you can communicate your labours to no public body by whom they willbe better received, or through whose records they will be better known to the philosophical world. You are in the prime of life, in the beginning of your career, and you have powers and acquirements capable of illustrating and extending every branch of physical enquiry; and, in the field of science, how many are the spots not yet cultivated! Where the laws of sensible become connected with those of insensible motions, the mechanical with the chemical phenomena, how little is known! In electricity, magnetism, in the relations of crystallized forms to the weight of the elements of bodies, what a number of curious and important objects of research! and they are objects which you are peculiarly qualified to pursue and illustrate.
"May you continue to devote yourself to philosophical pursuits, and to exalt your reputation, already so high—
'Virtutem extendere factis.'
And these pursuits you will find not only glorious, but dignified, useful, and gratifying in every period of life: this, indeed, you must know best in the example of your illustrious father, who, full of years and of honours, must view your exertions with infinite pleasure; and who, in the hopes that his own imperishable name will be permanently connected with yours in the annals of philosophy, must look forward to a double immortality."
In the discourse of the succeeding year, it was his painful duty to announce the death of the elder Herschel, whom, in his former address, he hadeulogized in such eloquent and touching language.
In alluding to the labours and discoveries of Sir William Herschel, he observed, that "they have so much contributed to the progress of modern astronomy, that his name will probably live as long as the inhabitants of this earth are permitted to view the solar system, or to understand the laws of its motions. The world of science—the civilized world, are alike indebted to him who enlarges the boundaries of human knowledge, who increases the scope of intellectual enjoyment, and exhibits the human mind in possession of new and unknown powers, by which it gains, as it were, new dominions in space; acquisitions which are imperishable—not like the boundaries of terrestrial states and kingdoms, or even the great monuments of art, which, however extensive and splendid, must decay—but secured by the grandest forms and objects of nature, and registered amongst her laws."
One more quotation, and I shall conclude with the conviction that the splendid specimens I have adduced must fully justify the opinion already offered as to the taste, power, and eloquence with which, as President of the Royal Society, he discharged the most delicate and arduous of all its duties.
In his address to Mr. (now Dr.) Buckland, on delivering to him the medal for his important memoir on the fossile remains discovered in the cave near Kirkdale, he thus concludes:—"If we look with wonder upon the great remains of human works, such as the columns of Palmyra, broken inthe midst of the desert; the temples of Pæstum, beautiful in the decay of twenty centuries; or the mutilated fragments of Greek sculpture in the Acropolis of Athens, or in our own Museum, as proofs of the genius of artists, and power and riches of nations now past away; with how much deeper a feeling of admiration must we consider those grand monuments of nature which mark the revolutions of the globe—continents broken into islands; one land produced, another destroyed; the bottom of the ocean become a fertile soil; whole races of animals extinct, and the bones and exuviæ of one class covered with the remains of another; and upon these graves of past generations—the marble or rocky tombs, as it were, of a former animated world, new generations rising, and order and harmony established, and a system of life and beauty produced, as it were, out of chaos and death, proving the infinite power, wisdom, and goodness of the Great Cause of all being!"
I have noticed the apparent commencement of that general indisposition which had for some time been stealing upon him, undermining his powers, oppressing his spirits, and subduing his best energies; but in the end of 1826, his complaint assumed a more decided and alarming form. Feeling more than usually unwell, while on a visit to his friend Lord Gage, he determined to return to London, and was seized while on his journey, at Mayersfield, with an apoplectic attack. Prompt and copious bleeding, however, on the spot, arrested the symptomsmore immediately threatening the extinction of life, and enabled him to reach home; but paralysis, the usual consequence of such seizures, had obviously, though at first but slightly, diminished his muscular powers, and given an awkwardness to his gait.
As soon as the more immediate danger of the attack had passed away, it was thought expedient to recommend, as the best means of his farther recovery, a residence in the southern part of Europe, where he would be removed from all the cares and anxieties that were inseparably connected with his continuance in London; and he accordingly quitted England, with the intention of spending what remained of the winter in Italy.
The following interesting letter to his friend will sufficiently explain the serious character of his malady, and the degree of bodily infirmity which accompanied it.
TO THOMAS POOLE, ESQ.Ravenna, March 14, 1827.MY DEAR POOLE,I should have answered your letter immediately, had it been possible; but I was, at the time I received it, very ill, in the crisis of the complaint under which I have long suffered, and which turned out to be a determination of the blood to the brain; at last producing the most alarming nervous symptoms, and threatening the loss of power and of life.Had I been in England, I should gladly have promoted the election of your friend at the Athenæum: your certificate of character would always be enough for me; for, like our angling evangelicalIsaac Walton, I know you choose for your friends only good men.I am, thank God, better, but still very weak, and wholly unfit for any kind of business and study. I have, however, considerably recovered the use of all the limbs that were affected; and as my amendment has been slow and gradual, I hope in time it may be complete: but I am leading the life of an anchorite, obliged to abstain from flesh, wine, business, study, experiments, and all things that I love; but this discipline is salutary, and for the sake of being able to do something more for science, and, I hope, for humanity, I submit to it; believing that the Great Source of intellectual being so wills it for good.I am here lodged in the Apostolical Palace, by the kindness of the Vice-Legate of Ravenna, a most admirable and enlightened prelate, and who has done every thing for me that he could have done for a brother.I have chosen this spot of the declining empire of Rome, as one of solitude and repose, as out of the way of travellers, and in a good climate; and its monuments and recollections are not without interest. Here Dante composed his divine works. Here Byron wrote some of his best and most moral (if such a name can be applied) poems; and here the Roman power that began among the mountains with Romulus, and migrated to the sea, bounding Asia and Europe under Constantine, made its last stand, in the marshes formed by the Eridanus, under Theodorick, whose tomb is amongst the wonders of the place.After a month's travel in the most severe weather I ever experienced, I arrived here on the 20th of February. The weather has since been fine. My brother and friend, who is likewise my physician, accompanied me; but he is so satisfied with my improvement, as to be able to leave me for Corfu; but he is within a week's call.I have no society here, except that of the amiable Vice-Legate, who is the Governor of the Province; but this is enough for me, for as yet I can bear but little conversation. I ride in the pine forest, which is the most magnificent in Europe, and which I wish you could see. You know the trees by Claude Lorraine's landscapes: imagine a circle of twenty miles of these great fan-shaped pines, green sunny lawns, and little knolls of underwood, with large junipers of the Adriatic in front, and the Apennines still covered with snow behind. The pine wood partly covers the spot where the Roman fleet once rode,—such is the change of time!It is my intention to stay here till the beginning of April, and then to go to the Alps, for I must avoid the extremes of heat and cold.God bless you, my dear Poole. I am always your old and sincere friend,H. Davy.
TO THOMAS POOLE, ESQ.
Ravenna, March 14, 1827.
MY DEAR POOLE,
I should have answered your letter immediately, had it been possible; but I was, at the time I received it, very ill, in the crisis of the complaint under which I have long suffered, and which turned out to be a determination of the blood to the brain; at last producing the most alarming nervous symptoms, and threatening the loss of power and of life.
Had I been in England, I should gladly have promoted the election of your friend at the Athenæum: your certificate of character would always be enough for me; for, like our angling evangelicalIsaac Walton, I know you choose for your friends only good men.
I am, thank God, better, but still very weak, and wholly unfit for any kind of business and study. I have, however, considerably recovered the use of all the limbs that were affected; and as my amendment has been slow and gradual, I hope in time it may be complete: but I am leading the life of an anchorite, obliged to abstain from flesh, wine, business, study, experiments, and all things that I love; but this discipline is salutary, and for the sake of being able to do something more for science, and, I hope, for humanity, I submit to it; believing that the Great Source of intellectual being so wills it for good.
I am here lodged in the Apostolical Palace, by the kindness of the Vice-Legate of Ravenna, a most admirable and enlightened prelate, and who has done every thing for me that he could have done for a brother.
I have chosen this spot of the declining empire of Rome, as one of solitude and repose, as out of the way of travellers, and in a good climate; and its monuments and recollections are not without interest. Here Dante composed his divine works. Here Byron wrote some of his best and most moral (if such a name can be applied) poems; and here the Roman power that began among the mountains with Romulus, and migrated to the sea, bounding Asia and Europe under Constantine, made its last stand, in the marshes formed by the Eridanus, under Theodorick, whose tomb is amongst the wonders of the place.
After a month's travel in the most severe weather I ever experienced, I arrived here on the 20th of February. The weather has since been fine. My brother and friend, who is likewise my physician, accompanied me; but he is so satisfied with my improvement, as to be able to leave me for Corfu; but he is within a week's call.
I have no society here, except that of the amiable Vice-Legate, who is the Governor of the Province; but this is enough for me, for as yet I can bear but little conversation. I ride in the pine forest, which is the most magnificent in Europe, and which I wish you could see. You know the trees by Claude Lorraine's landscapes: imagine a circle of twenty miles of these great fan-shaped pines, green sunny lawns, and little knolls of underwood, with large junipers of the Adriatic in front, and the Apennines still covered with snow behind. The pine wood partly covers the spot where the Roman fleet once rode,—such is the change of time!
It is my intention to stay here till the beginning of April, and then to go to the Alps, for I must avoid the extremes of heat and cold.
God bless you, my dear Poole. I am always your old and sincere friend,
H. Davy.
Feeling that his recovery was tardy, and that perfect mental repose was more than ever necessary for its advancement, he determined to resign the chair of the Royal Society; and he accordingly announced that intention, by a letter to his friend Mr. Davies Gilbert, Vice-President of the Society.
TO DAVIES GILBERT, ESQ. M.P. V.P.R.S. &c. &c.Salzburgh, July 1, 1827.MY DEAR SIR,Yesterday, on my arrival here, I found your two letters. I am sorry I did not receive the one you were so good as to address to me at Ravenna; nor can I account for its miscarriage. I commissioned a friend there to transmit to me my letters from that place after my departure, and I received several, even so late as the middle of May, at Laybach, which had been sent to Italy, and afterwards to Illyria. I did not write to you again, because I always entertained hopes of being able to give a better account of the state of my health. I am sorry to say the expectations of my physicians of a complete and rapid recovery have not been realized. I have gained ground, under the most favourable circumstances, very slowly; and though I have had no new attack, and have regained, to a certain extent, the use of my limbs, yet the tendency of the system to accumulate blood in the head still continues, and I am obliged to counteract it by a most rigid vegetable diet, and by frequent bleedings with leeches and blisterings, which of course keep me very low. From my youth up to last year, I had suffered, more or less, from a slight hemorrhoidal affection; and the fulness of the vessels, then only a slight inconvenience, becomes a serious and dangerous evil in the head, to which it seems to have been transferred. I am far from despairing of an ultimate recovery, but it must be a work of time, and the vessels which have been over distended only very slowly regain their former dimensions and tone:and for my recovery, not only diet and regimen and physical discipline, but a freedom from anxiety, and from all business and all intellectual exertion, is absolutely required.Under these circumstances, I feel it would be highly imprudent and perhaps fatal for me, to return, and to attempt to perform the official duties of President of the Royal Society. And as I had no other feeling for that high and honourable situation, except the hope of being useful to society, so I would not keep it a moment without the security of being able to devote myself to the labour and attention it demands. I beg therefore you will be so good as to communicate my resignation to the Council and to the Society at their first meeting in November, after the long vacation; stating the circumstances of my severe and long continued illness, as the cause. At the same time, I beg you will express to them how truly grateful I feel for the high honour they have done me in placing me in the chair for so many successive years. Assure them that I shall always take the same interest in the progress of the grand objects of the Society, and throughout the whole of my life endeavour to contribute to their advancement, and to the prosperity of the body.Should circumstances prevent me from sending, or you from receiving any other communication from me before the autumn (for nothing is more uncertain than the post in Austria, as they take time to read the letters), I hope this, which I shall go to Bavaria to send, will reach you safe, and will be sufficient to settle the affair of resignation.It was my intention to have said nothing on the subject of my successor. I will support by all the means in my power the person that the leading members of the Society shall place in the chair; but I cannot resist an expression of satisfaction in the hope you held out, that an illustrious friend of the Society, illustrious from his talents, his former situation, and, I may say, his late conduct, is likely to be my successor.I wish my name to be in the next Council, as I shall certainly return,Deo volente, before the end of the session, and I may, I think, be of use; and likewise, because I hope it may be clearly understood that my feelings for the Society are, as they always were, those of warm attachment and respect. Writing still makes my head ache, and raises my pulse. I will therefore conclude, my dear Sir, in returning you my sincere thanks for the trouble you have had on my account, and assuring you that I amYour obliged and grateful friend and servant,H. Davy.
TO DAVIES GILBERT, ESQ. M.P. V.P.R.S. &c. &c.
Salzburgh, July 1, 1827.
MY DEAR SIR,
Yesterday, on my arrival here, I found your two letters. I am sorry I did not receive the one you were so good as to address to me at Ravenna; nor can I account for its miscarriage. I commissioned a friend there to transmit to me my letters from that place after my departure, and I received several, even so late as the middle of May, at Laybach, which had been sent to Italy, and afterwards to Illyria. I did not write to you again, because I always entertained hopes of being able to give a better account of the state of my health. I am sorry to say the expectations of my physicians of a complete and rapid recovery have not been realized. I have gained ground, under the most favourable circumstances, very slowly; and though I have had no new attack, and have regained, to a certain extent, the use of my limbs, yet the tendency of the system to accumulate blood in the head still continues, and I am obliged to counteract it by a most rigid vegetable diet, and by frequent bleedings with leeches and blisterings, which of course keep me very low. From my youth up to last year, I had suffered, more or less, from a slight hemorrhoidal affection; and the fulness of the vessels, then only a slight inconvenience, becomes a serious and dangerous evil in the head, to which it seems to have been transferred. I am far from despairing of an ultimate recovery, but it must be a work of time, and the vessels which have been over distended only very slowly regain their former dimensions and tone:and for my recovery, not only diet and regimen and physical discipline, but a freedom from anxiety, and from all business and all intellectual exertion, is absolutely required.
Under these circumstances, I feel it would be highly imprudent and perhaps fatal for me, to return, and to attempt to perform the official duties of President of the Royal Society. And as I had no other feeling for that high and honourable situation, except the hope of being useful to society, so I would not keep it a moment without the security of being able to devote myself to the labour and attention it demands. I beg therefore you will be so good as to communicate my resignation to the Council and to the Society at their first meeting in November, after the long vacation; stating the circumstances of my severe and long continued illness, as the cause. At the same time, I beg you will express to them how truly grateful I feel for the high honour they have done me in placing me in the chair for so many successive years. Assure them that I shall always take the same interest in the progress of the grand objects of the Society, and throughout the whole of my life endeavour to contribute to their advancement, and to the prosperity of the body.
Should circumstances prevent me from sending, or you from receiving any other communication from me before the autumn (for nothing is more uncertain than the post in Austria, as they take time to read the letters), I hope this, which I shall go to Bavaria to send, will reach you safe, and will be sufficient to settle the affair of resignation.
It was my intention to have said nothing on the subject of my successor. I will support by all the means in my power the person that the leading members of the Society shall place in the chair; but I cannot resist an expression of satisfaction in the hope you held out, that an illustrious friend of the Society, illustrious from his talents, his former situation, and, I may say, his late conduct, is likely to be my successor.
I wish my name to be in the next Council, as I shall certainly return,Deo volente, before the end of the session, and I may, I think, be of use; and likewise, because I hope it may be clearly understood that my feelings for the Society are, as they always were, those of warm attachment and respect. Writing still makes my head ache, and raises my pulse. I will therefore conclude, my dear Sir, in returning you my sincere thanks for the trouble you have had on my account, and assuring you that I am
Your obliged and grateful friend and servant,H. Davy.
Pray acknowledge the receipt of this letter, by addressing me, "poste restante, Laybach, Illyria, Austria;" and let me know if Mr. Hudson is still Assistant-Secretary, and where Mr. South is. I send this letter from Frauenstein, Bavaria, July 2, that it may not be opened, as all my letters were at Salzburgh. There was one of them must haveamusedPrince Metternich, on the state of parties in England, from a Member of the Upper House.
In consequence of this letter, the Council of the Royal Society, by a resolution passed at a very fullmeeting held on the 6th of November, 1827, appointed Mr. Davies Gilbert to fill the chair, until the general body should elect a President, at the ensuing anniversary.
The following letter will show his subsequent course of proceeding.
TO THOMAS POOLE, ESQ.Park Street, Grosvenor Square, Oct. 29, 1827.MY DEAR POOLE,I hope you received a letter which I addressed to you from Ravenna in the spring. It was my intention to have returned to Italy from the Alpine countries, where I spent the summer; but my recovery has been so slow, and so much uneasiness in the head and weakness in the limbs remained in September, that I thought it wiser to return to my medical advisers in London.I have consulted all the celebrated men who have written upon or studied the nervous system. They all have a good opinion of my case, and they all order absolute repose for at least twelve months longer, and will not allow me to resume my scientific duties or labours at present; and they insist upon my leaving London for the next three or four months, and advise a residence in the west of England. Now, my dear friend, you recollect our conversation upon the subject of a residence—I think Mr. C.'s is not very far from you. Pray let me know something on this head. I want very little of any thing, for I am almost on a vegetable diet; and a little horse exercise, a very little shooting, and a little quiet society, are what I am in search of, withsome facilities of procuring books. I have thought of Minehead, Ilfracombe, Lymouth, and Penzance; but I have not yet determined the point.Horse exercise and shooting are necessary to bring back my limbs to their former state, and therefore Bath and Brighton will not do for me. God bless you, my dear Poole, and pray let me hear from you.Your affectionate,H. Davy.P.S. I hope you got the copy of my discourses.
TO THOMAS POOLE, ESQ.
Park Street, Grosvenor Square, Oct. 29, 1827.
MY DEAR POOLE,
I hope you received a letter which I addressed to you from Ravenna in the spring. It was my intention to have returned to Italy from the Alpine countries, where I spent the summer; but my recovery has been so slow, and so much uneasiness in the head and weakness in the limbs remained in September, that I thought it wiser to return to my medical advisers in London.
I have consulted all the celebrated men who have written upon or studied the nervous system. They all have a good opinion of my case, and they all order absolute repose for at least twelve months longer, and will not allow me to resume my scientific duties or labours at present; and they insist upon my leaving London for the next three or four months, and advise a residence in the west of England. Now, my dear friend, you recollect our conversation upon the subject of a residence—I think Mr. C.'s is not very far from you. Pray let me know something on this head. I want very little of any thing, for I am almost on a vegetable diet; and a little horse exercise, a very little shooting, and a little quiet society, are what I am in search of, withsome facilities of procuring books. I have thought of Minehead, Ilfracombe, Lymouth, and Penzance; but I have not yet determined the point.
Horse exercise and shooting are necessary to bring back my limbs to their former state, and therefore Bath and Brighton will not do for me. God bless you, my dear Poole, and pray let me hear from you.
Your affectionate,H. Davy.
P.S. I hope you got the copy of my discourses.
TO THE SAME.Firle, near Lewes, Nov. 4, 1827.MY DEAR POOLE,I have this moment received your very kind and most friendly letter. I have made my first visit to my friend Lord G——, where I was taken ill last year; and have borne the journey well, and have enjoyed the small society here; but I am very weak indeed, and I cannot yet walk more than a mile. One of three plans, I shall hope to adopt; two of them you have most amiably suggested, the other is to go to Penzance. My only objection to the last is the fear of too much society. Whatever I do, I will first come to you and take your advice.When I returned, I had little hopes of recovery; but the assurances of my physicians that I may again, with care, be re-established, have revived me, and I have certainly gained ground, and gained strength, by the plan I am now pursuing.As soon as I return to London, I will write to you. If I can find a companion, I think Mr. C——'s house will do admirably; but I must see it, as a temperate situation is asine quâ non.I need not say how grateful I am for your kindness,and if I recover, how delighted I shall be to owe the means to so excellent and invaluable a friend. God bless you.I am, my dear Poole, your affectionate,H. Davy.
TO THE SAME.
Firle, near Lewes, Nov. 4, 1827.
MY DEAR POOLE,
I have this moment received your very kind and most friendly letter. I have made my first visit to my friend Lord G——, where I was taken ill last year; and have borne the journey well, and have enjoyed the small society here; but I am very weak indeed, and I cannot yet walk more than a mile. One of three plans, I shall hope to adopt; two of them you have most amiably suggested, the other is to go to Penzance. My only objection to the last is the fear of too much society. Whatever I do, I will first come to you and take your advice.
When I returned, I had little hopes of recovery; but the assurances of my physicians that I may again, with care, be re-established, have revived me, and I have certainly gained ground, and gained strength, by the plan I am now pursuing.
As soon as I return to London, I will write to you. If I can find a companion, I think Mr. C——'s house will do admirably; but I must see it, as a temperate situation is asine quâ non.
I need not say how grateful I am for your kindness,and if I recover, how delighted I shall be to owe the means to so excellent and invaluable a friend. God bless you.
I am, my dear Poole, your affectionate,H. Davy.
TO THE SAME.Firle, Nov. 7.MY DEAR POOLE,I am going to London to-morrow, and after staying two or three days, to try a new plan of medical treatment, which my physicians recommend, I shall come westward, and profit by your kindness, and adopt whichever of the plans will promise to be most salutary.If I take Mr. C——'s house, Lady Davy will come to me. With respect to society, I want only a friend, or one person or two at most, to prevent entire solitude, and I am too weak to bear much conversation, and wholly unfit to receive any but persons with whom I am in the habits of intimacy.I can hardly express to you how deeply I feel your kindness.As I must travel slowly, I shall not probably be at Stowey before Wednesday or Thursday next. Pray do not ask any body to meet me. I am upon thestrictestdiet,—a wing of a chicken and a plain rice or bread pudding is the extreme of mygourmanderie. God bless you.My dear Poole, your affectionate friend,H. Davy.
TO THE SAME.
Firle, Nov. 7.
MY DEAR POOLE,
I am going to London to-morrow, and after staying two or three days, to try a new plan of medical treatment, which my physicians recommend, I shall come westward, and profit by your kindness, and adopt whichever of the plans will promise to be most salutary.
If I take Mr. C——'s house, Lady Davy will come to me. With respect to society, I want only a friend, or one person or two at most, to prevent entire solitude, and I am too weak to bear much conversation, and wholly unfit to receive any but persons with whom I am in the habits of intimacy.
I can hardly express to you how deeply I feel your kindness.
As I must travel slowly, I shall not probably be at Stowey before Wednesday or Thursday next. Pray do not ask any body to meet me. I am upon thestrictestdiet,—a wing of a chicken and a plain rice or bread pudding is the extreme of mygourmanderie. God bless you.
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 hisSalmonia, 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 seeingstrangers; 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 himselfupon 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 hemade 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.'"
Davy returned to town in December, and after an interval wrote the following letter:
TO THOMAS POOLE, ESQ.Park Street, Grosvenor Square, Dec. 27, 1827.MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,I know no reason why I have not written to you. It has been my intention every day, and I have been every day prevented by the sense of want of power, which is so painful a symptom of my malady.I continue much as I was. My physicians augur well, and I have some repose in the hopes connected with the indefinite future. In the last twelve-month, which I hope is a large portion, on the whole, of my purgatory expiation for crimes of commission or omission, the most cheerful, or rather the least miserable, days that I spent, were a good dealowing to your kindness, which I shall never forget. I would, if it were possible, make my letter something more than a mere bulletin of health, or the expression of the feelings of a sick man; but I can communicate no news. The papers will tell you more than is true; and our politicians seem ignorant of what they are to do at home, much more abroad.I have got for you a copy of my lectures on the Chemistry of Agriculture, which I shall send to you by the first opportunity. God bless you, my dear Poole.I am always your sincere,Grateful, and affectionate friend,H. Davy.
TO THOMAS POOLE, ESQ.
Park Street, Grosvenor Square, Dec. 27, 1827.
MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,
I know no reason why I have not written to you. It has been my intention every day, and I have been every day prevented by the sense of want of power, which is so painful a symptom of my malady.
I continue much as I was. My physicians augur well, and I have some repose in the hopes connected with the indefinite future. In the last twelve-month, which I hope is a large portion, on the whole, of my purgatory expiation for crimes of commission or omission, the most cheerful, or rather the least miserable, days that I spent, were a good dealowing to your kindness, which I shall never forget. I would, if it were possible, make my letter something more than a mere bulletin of health, or the expression of the feelings of a sick man; but I can communicate no news. The papers will tell you more than is true; and our politicians seem ignorant of what they are to do at home, much more abroad.
I have got for you a copy of my lectures on the Chemistry of Agriculture, which I shall send to you by the first opportunity. God bless you, my dear Poole.
I am always your sincere,Grateful, and affectionate friend,H. Davy.
In the letter which follows, Davy dwells upon a subject in Natural History, which appears to have greatly occupied his thoughts, and to have continued a predominant subject of his contemplation, even to the latest day of his life.
TO THOMAS POOLE, ESQ.Park Street, January 1, 1828.MY DEAR FRIEND,I write to you immediately, because that part of your letter which relates to Mr. Baker's pursuits interests me very much: but before I begin on this subject, I will give you a short bulletin of the state of my health. I go on much as I did at Stowey, and my physicians have made no alterations in the plan of treatment: I am not worse, and they tell me I shall be better. Now for Mr. Baker—I am very glad that he is occupied with those enquiries. I am particularly anxious for information on the generationof eels; it is an unsolved problem since the time of Aristotle. I am sure that all eels come from the sea, where they are bred; but there may be one or two species or varieties of them. What Mr. Baker says about the difference between the common eel and the conger is well worthy of attention; but I have known changes more extraordinary than the obliteration, or destruction, of a small tubular member occasioned by difference of habits.Were the salt-water eels and the fresh-water eels which he examined of the same size? Many individuals of various sizes should be examined to establish the fact of their specific difference. This would be the season for examining the genital organs of eels, for they breed in winter; and were I a little better, I should go to the sea for the purpose of making enquiries on the subject.Sir Everard Home is firmly convinced that the animal is hermaphrodite and impregnates itself: this, though possible, appears to me very strange in so large an animal. If Mr. Baker will determine this point, I can promise him an immortality amongst our philosophical anglers and natural historians; and if he will give us the history of water-flies, imitated by fly-fishers, he will command our immediate gratitude.Pray communicate this letter to him with my best wishes, and with my hopes that his talents, which are very great, will be applied to enlighten us.I can give you no news; the weather is dreadful, and the blacks and yellows are descending in fog. I long for the fresh air of your mountains.God bless you, my dear Poole. Many—manyhappy new years to you. Pray remember me, with the compliments of this day, to your excellent neighbours at Stowey. Your affectionate friend,H. Davy.
TO THOMAS POOLE, ESQ.
Park Street, January 1, 1828.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
I write to you immediately, because that part of your letter which relates to Mr. Baker's pursuits interests me very much: but before I begin on this subject, I will give you a short bulletin of the state of my health. I go on much as I did at Stowey, and my physicians have made no alterations in the plan of treatment: I am not worse, and they tell me I shall be better. Now for Mr. Baker—I am very glad that he is occupied with those enquiries. I am particularly anxious for information on the generationof eels; it is an unsolved problem since the time of Aristotle. I am sure that all eels come from the sea, where they are bred; but there may be one or two species or varieties of them. What Mr. Baker says about the difference between the common eel and the conger is well worthy of attention; but I have known changes more extraordinary than the obliteration, or destruction, of a small tubular member occasioned by difference of habits.
Were the salt-water eels and the fresh-water eels which he examined of the same size? Many individuals of various sizes should be examined to establish the fact of their specific difference. This would be the season for examining the genital organs of eels, for they breed in winter; and were I a little better, I should go to the sea for the purpose of making enquiries on the subject.
Sir Everard Home is firmly convinced that the animal is hermaphrodite and impregnates itself: this, though possible, appears to me very strange in so large an animal. If Mr. Baker will determine this point, I can promise him an immortality amongst our philosophical anglers and natural historians; and if he will give us the history of water-flies, imitated by fly-fishers, he will command our immediate gratitude.
Pray communicate this letter to him with my best wishes, and with my hopes that his talents, which are very great, will be applied to enlighten us.
I can give you no news; the weather is dreadful, and the blacks and yellows are descending in fog. I long for the fresh air of your mountains.
God bless you, my dear Poole. Many—manyhappy new years to you. Pray remember me, with the compliments of this day, to your excellent neighbours at Stowey. Your affectionate friend,
H. Davy.
TO THE SAME.Park Street, March 26.MY DEAR POOLE,Your letter has given me great pleasure; first, because you, who are an enlightened judge in such matters, approve of my humble contribution to agriculture; and, secondly, because it makes me acquainted with your kind feelings, health, and Mr. Baker's interesting pursuits.Mr. Baker appears to me to have distinctly established the point that the eel and conger are of different species; and from his zeal and activity, I hope the curious problem of the generation of these animals will be solved. I shall expect with impatience the results of his enquiries.Now for my health, my very dear friend. I wish I could speak more favourably; I certainly do not lose ground, but I am doubtful if I gain any; but I do not despair.I am going, by the advice of my physicians, to try another Continental journey. If I get considerably better, I shall winter in Italy, where, in this case, I shall hope to see you, and where I shall have an apartment ready for you in Rome.I have not been idle since I left your comfortable and hospitable house. I have finished mySalmonia, and sent it to the press.—"Flumina amo sylvasque inglorius."—I do not think you will be displeased with this littlejeuof my sick hours.Mr. A—— was very amiable in calling on me. There is nothing that annoys me so much in my illness as my helplessness in not being able to indulge in society.Your grateful and affectionate friend,H. Davy.
TO THE SAME.
Park Street, March 26.
MY DEAR POOLE,
Your letter has given me great pleasure; first, because you, who are an enlightened judge in such matters, approve of my humble contribution to agriculture; and, secondly, because it makes me acquainted with your kind feelings, health, and Mr. Baker's interesting pursuits.
Mr. Baker appears to me to have distinctly established the point that the eel and conger are of different species; and from his zeal and activity, I hope the curious problem of the generation of these animals will be solved. I shall expect with impatience the results of his enquiries.
Now for my health, my very dear friend. I wish I could speak more favourably; I certainly do not lose ground, but I am doubtful if I gain any; but I do not despair.
I am going, by the advice of my physicians, to try another Continental journey. If I get considerably better, I shall winter in Italy, where, in this case, I shall hope to see you, and where I shall have an apartment ready for you in Rome.
I have not been idle since I left your comfortable and hospitable house. I have finished mySalmonia, and sent it to the press.—"Flumina amo sylvasque inglorius."—I do not think you will be displeased with this littlejeuof my sick hours.
Mr. A—— was very amiable in calling on me. There is nothing that annoys me so much in my illness as my helplessness in not being able to indulge in society.
Your grateful and affectionate friend,H. Davy.
We will now, for a while, leave our philosopher to pursue his journey to Italy, while we take a review of hisSalmonia; the first edition of which was published in the Spring of 1828. The second, and much improved edition,[110]from which I shall take my extracts, is dated from Laybach, Illyria, September 28, 1828, but which did not appear until 1829.
We are told in the preface, that these pages formed the occupation of the author during some months of severe and dangerous illness, when he was wholly incapable of attending to more useful studies, or of following more serious pursuits;—that they constituted his amusement in many hours, which otherwise would have been unoccupied and tedious;—and that they are published in the hope that they may possess an interest for those persons who derive pleasure from the simplest and most attainable kind of rural sports, and who practise the art, or patronise the objects of contemplation, of the philosophical angler.
He informs us that the conversational mannerand discursive style were chosen as best suited to the state of health of the author, who was incapable of considerable efforts and long continued attention; and he adds, that he could not but have in mind a model, which has fully proved the utility and popularity of this method of treating this subject—"The Complete Angler," by Walton and Cotton.
The characters chosen to support these conversations, wereHalieus, who is supposed to be an accomplished fly-fisher—Ornither, who is to be regarded as a gentleman generally fond of the sports of the field, though not a finished master of the art of angling—Poietes, who is to be considered as an enthusiastic lover of nature, and partially acquainted with the mysteries of fly-fishing; andPhysicus, who is described uninitiated as an angler, but as a person fond of enquiries in natural history and philosophy.
Such are the personages by whose aid the machinery is to be worked; but he tells us that they are of course imaginary, though the sentiments attributed to them, the author may sometimes have gained from recollections of real conversations with friends, from whose society much of the happiness of his early life had been derived; and he admits that, in the portrait of the character ofHalieus, given in the last dialogue, a likeness will not fail to be recognised to that of the character of a most estimable physician, ardently beloved by his friends, and esteemed and venerated by the public.
The work is dedicated to Dr. Babington, "in remembrance of some delightful days passed in hissociety, and in gratitude for an uninterrupted friendship of a quarter of a century."
I am informed by Lady Davy, that the engravings of the fish, by which the work is illustrated, are from drawings of his own execution; so that he could not, like old Isaac Walton, "take the liberty to commend the excellent pictures to him that likes not the book, because they concern not himself."
It has frequently happened that, while works of deep importance have justly conferred celebrity upon the author, his minor productions have been entirely indebted to his name for their popularity, and to his authority for their value. This, however, cannot be said of Salmonia, for it possesses the stamp of original genius, and bears internal evidence of a talent flowing down from a very high source of intelligence. In a scientific point of view, it exhibits that penetrating observation by which a gifted mind is enabled to extract out of the most ordinary facts and every-day incidents, novel views and hidden truths; while it shows that a humble art (I beg pardon of the brothers of the Angle) may, through the skill of the master, be made the means of calling forth the affections of the heart, and of reflecting all the colours of the fancy. By regarding the work in relation to the history and condition of its author, it certainly acquires much additional interest. The familiar and inviting style of the dialogue, whenever he discusses questions of natural history, must convince us that he was as well calculated to instruct in the Lyceum, as we long since knew him to be to teach in the Academy.
Composed in the hour of sickness and prostration, the work displays throughout its composition a tone of dignified morality and an expansion of feeling, which may be regarded as in unison with a mind chastened but not subdued, and looking forward to a better state of existence. "I envy," says he, "no quality of the mind or intellect in others; be it genius, power, wit, or fancy: but if I could choose what would be most delightful, and I believe most useful to me, I should prefer a firm religious belief to every other blessing; for it makes life a discipline of goodness; creates new hopes, when all earthly hopes vanish; and throws over the decay, the destruction of existence, the most gorgeous of all lights; awakens life even in death, and from corruption and decay calls up beauty and divinity; makes an instrument of torture and of shame the ladder of ascent to paradise; and, far above all combinations of earthly hopes, calls up the most delightful visions of palms and amaranths, the gardens of the blest, the security of everlasting joys, where the sensualist and the sceptic view only gloom, decay, annihilation, and despair!"
While describing an animated scene of insect enjoyment, he bursts into an apostrophe, highly characteristic of that quick and happy talent for seizing analogies, which so eminently distinguished all his writings. I shall quote the passage.
"Physicus.—Since the sun has disappeared, the cool of the evening has, I suppose, driven the little winged plunderers to their homes; but see, there are two or three humble bees which seem languid with the cold, and yet they have their tongues stillin the fountain of honey. I believe one of them is actually dead, yet his mouth is still attached to the flower. He has fallen asleep, and probably died whilst making his last meal of ambrosia.
"Ornither.—What an enviable destiny, quitting life in the moment of enjoyment, following an instinct, the gratification of which has been always pleasurable! so beneficent are the laws of Divine Wisdom.
"Physicus.—Like Ornither, I consider the destiny of this insect as desirable, and I cannot help regarding the end of human life as most happy, when terminated under the impulse of some strong energetic feeling, similar in its nature to an instinct. I should not wish to die like Attila, in a moment of gross sensual enjoyment; but the death of Epaminondas or Nelson, in the arms of victory, their whole attention absorbed in the love of glory, and of their country, I think really enviable.
"Poietes.—I consider the death of the martyr or the saint as far more enviable; for, in this case, what may be considered as a Divine instinct of our nature is called into exertion, and pain is subdued, or destroyed, by a secure faith in the power and mercy of the Divinity. In such cases, man rises above mortality, and shows his true intellectual superiority. By intellectual superiority, I mean that of his spiritual nature, for I do not consider the results of reason as capable of being compared with those of faith. Reason is often a dead weight in life, destroying feeling, and substituting, for principle, calculation and caution; and, in the hour of death, it often produces fear or despondency, and is rather abitter draught than nectar or ambrosia in the last meal of life.
"Halieus.—I agree with Poietes. The higher and more intense the feeling under which death takes place, the happier it may be esteemed; and I think even Physicus will be of our opinion, when I recollect the conclusion of a conversation in Scotland. The immortal being never can quit life with so much pleasure as with the feeling of immortality secure, and the vision of celestial glory filling the mind, affected by no other passion than the pure and intense love of God."
We are not to suppose that, however soothing and consolatory such feelings and hopes may have been, they weaned him from the world, or diminished his natural love of life; on the contrary, no one would have more gratefully received the services of a Medea, as the following passage will sufficiently testify. "Ah! could I recover any thing like that freshness of mind which I possessed at twenty-five, and which, like the dew of the dawning morning, covered all objects and nourished all things that grew, and in which they were more beautiful even than in midday sunshine,—what would I not give! All that I have gained in an active and not unprofitable life. How well I remember that delightful season, when, full of power, I sought for power in others; and power was sympathy, and sympathy power;—when the dead and the unknown, the great of other ages and of distant places were made, by the force of the imagination, my companions and friends;—when every voice seemed one of praise and love;—when every flower had the bloom andodour of the rose; and every spray or plant seemed either the poet's laurel, or the civic oak—which appeared to offer themselves as wreaths to adorn my throbbing brow. But, alas! this cannot be.——"
After the example of the great Patriarch of Anglers, the author of Salmonia commences, through the assistance of the principal interlocutor of the dialogue,Halieus, to enumerate the delights of his art, and to vindicate it from the charge of cruelty.
"Halieus.—The search after food is an instinct belonging to our nature; and from the savage in his rudest and most primitive state, who destroys a piece of game, or a fish, with a club or spear, to man in the most cultivated state of society, who employs artifice, machinery, and the resources of various other animals, to secure his object, the origin of the pleasure is similar, and its object the same: but that kind of it requiring most art may be said to characterize man in his highest or intellectual state; and the fisher for salmon and trout with the fly employs not only machinery to assist his physical powers, but applies sagacity to conquer difficulties; and the pleasure derived from ingenious resources and devices, as well as from active pursuit, belongs to this amusement. Then, as to its philosophical tendency, it is a pursuit of moral discipline, requiring patience, forbearance, and command of temper. As connected with natural science, it may be vaunted as demanding a knowledge of the habits of a considerable tribe of created beings,—fishes, and the animals that they prey upon, and an acquaintance with the signs and tokens of theweather, and its changes, the nature of waters, and of the atmosphere. As to its poetical relations, it carries us into the most wild and beautiful scenery of nature; amongst the mountain lakes, and the clear and lovely streams that gush from the higher ranges of elevated hills, or that make their way through the cavities of calcareous strata. How delightful in the early spring, after the dull and tedious time of winter, when the frosts disappear and the sunshine warms the earth and waters, to wander forth by some clear stream, to see the leaf bursting from the purple bud, to scent the odours of the bank perfumed by the violet, and enamelled, as it were, with the primrose and the daisy; to wander upon the fresh turf below the shade of trees, whose bright blossoms are filled with the music of the bee; and on the surface of the waters to view the gaudy flies sparkling like animated gems in the sunbeams, whilst the bright and beautiful trout is watching them from below; to hear the twittering of the water birds, who, alarmed at your approach, rapidly hide themselves beneath the flowers and leaves of the water-lily; and, as the season advances, to find all these objects changed for others of the same kind, but better and brighter, till the swallow and the trout contend, as it were, for the gaudy Mayfly, and till, in pursuing your amusement in the calm and balmy evening, you are serenaded by the songs of the cheerful thrush and melodious nightingale, performing the offices of paternal love, in thickets ornamented with the rose and woodbine."
On vindicating the pursuit from the charge of cruelty, he has advanced an argument that has notbeen commonly adduced upon this occasion. We have indeed all heard, that the operation of skinning is a matter of indifference to eels when they are used to it; but we are now told fish are so little annoyed by the hook, that though a trout has been hooked and played with for some minutes, he will often, after his escape with the artificial fly in his mouth, take the natural fly, and feed as if nothing had happened; having apparently learnt only from the experiment, that the artificial fly is not proper food. "I have caught pikes with four or five hooks in their mouths, and tackle which they had broken only a few minutes before; and the hooks seemed to have had no other effect than that of serving as a sort ofsauce piquante, urging them to seize another morsel of the same kind."
Our author, however, takes a more special defence, by observing that, unlike old Isaac, he employs an artificial fly, instead of a living bait. Our notions about the cruelty of field sports is extremely capricious. Until the time of the Reformation, the canon law prohibited the use of the sanguinary recreations of hunting, hawking, and fowling, while the clergy, on account of their leisure, were allowed to exercise the harmless and humane art of angling. In later days, the indignation against this art has been excited by the supposed sufferings of the worm or bait, rather than by those of the fish; and thus far the author of Salmonia assumed a strong posture of defence; but he did not avail himself of all the advantages it commanded. He might have pleaded, that every fish he caught by his artificial fly was destined to prey upon an insect, and that by substitutinga piece of silk for the latter, he would for every fish he might destroy, save from destruction many of those fairy beings that animate the air and sparkle in the sunbeam;—but it is, after all, folly to argue upon the subject of cruelty in our field sports. That animals should live by preying upon each other is the very basis of the scheme of creation; and in these days it is not necessary to expose the absurdities of the system of Samos and Indostan. Dr. Franklin, at one period of his life, entertained a sentimental abhorrence at eating any thing that had possessed life; and the reader may, perhaps, not object to be reminded of the manner in which he was cured of his prejudice. "I considered," says he, "the capture of every fish as a sort of murder, committed without provocation, since these animals had neither done, nor were capable of doing, the smallest injury to any one that should justify the measure. This mode of reasoning I conceived to be unanswerable. Meanwhile, I had formerly been extremely fond of fish; and when one of the cod was taken out of the frying-pan, I thought its flavour delicious. I hesitated some time between principle and inclination, till at last recollecting that, when the cod had been opened, some small fish were found in its belly, I said to myself, 'If you eat each other, I see no reason why we may not eat you,'—(His "wish was father to that thought")—I accordingly dined on the cod with no small degree of pleasure, and have since continued to eat like the rest of mankind."
Halieusis made to admit the danger of analysing too closely the moral character of any of our field sports; and yet, in the concluding chapter, he veryunfairly and inconsistently attempts to ridicule the pursuit of a fox-hunter, "risking his neck to see the hounds destroy an animal which he preserves to be destroyed, and which is good for nothing." He who pursues a pleasure because it is rational, reasons because he cannot feel. "When the heart," says Sterne, "flies out before the understanding, it saves the judgment a world of pains."
Having, as the author thinks satisfactorily, settled the preliminary questions,Halieus, succeeds in persuadingPhysicusto join him in fishing excursions; just asPiscatoris represented by old Isaac, as having enlistedVenatorinto the brotherhood of the angle.
The dialogue now proceeds with great animation, during which the art and mystery of Piscatory tactics are unfolded with great skill; for the details of which the reader must be referred to the work itself. If, however, he be not already an angler, it may save him a world of pains to be informed, that to learn to fish by the book is little less absurd than "to make hay by the fair days in the almanack."
The manner in which he treats the various subjects of natural history necessarily connected with the pursuit is both amusing and instructive; and the whole work is studded and gemmed, as it were, with the most poetical descriptions.
In speaking of the swallow,Poietesexclaims—"I delight in this living landscape! The swallow is one of my favourite birds, and a rival of the nightingale; for he cheers my sense of seeing as much as the other does my sense of hearing. He is the glad prophet of the year, the harbinger of the best season:he lives a life of enjoyment amongst the loveliest forms of nature: winter is unknown to him; and he leaves the green meadows of England in autumn, for the myrtle and orange groves of Italy, and for the palms of Africa: he has always objects of pursuit, and his success is secure. Even the beings selected for his prey are poetical, beautiful, and transient. The ephemeræ are saved by his means from a slow and lingering death in the evening, and killed in a moment, when they have known nothing of life but pleasure. He is the constant destroyer of insects—the friend of man; and, with the stork and the ibis, may be regarded as a sacred bird. His instinct, which gives him his appointed seasons, and teaches him always when and where to move, may be regarded as flowing from a divine source; and he belongs to the oracles of Nature, which speak the awful and intelligible language of a present Deity."
Poietesconsiders a full and clear river as the most poetical object in Nature.—"I will not fail to obey your summons. Pliny has, as well as I recollect, compared a river to human life. I have never read the passage in his works; but I have been a hundred times struck with the analogy, particularly amidst mountain scenery. The river, small and clear in its origin, gushes forth from rocks, falls into deep glens, and wantons and meanders through a wild and picturesque country, nourishing only the uncultivated tree or flower by its dew or spray. In this, its state of infancy and youth, it may be compared to the human mind, in which fancy and strength of imagination are predominant—it is more beautiful than useful.When the different rills or torrents join, and descend into the plain, it becomes slow and stately in its motions; it is applied to move machinery, to irrigate meadows, and to bear upon its bosom the stately barge;—in this mature state it is deep, strong, and useful. As it flows on towards the sea, it loses its force and its motion, and at last, as it were, becomes lost, and mingled with the mighty abyss of waters."
Halieusadds—"One might pursue the metaphor still farther, and say, that in its origin—its thundering and foam, when it carries down clay from the bank, and becomes impure, it resembles the youthful mind, affected by dangerous passions. And the influence of a lake, in calming and clearing the turbid water, may be compared to the effect of reason in more mature life, when the tranquil, deep, cool, and unimpassioned mind is freed from its fever, its troubles, bubbles, noise, and foam. And, above all, the sources of a river—which may be considered as belonging to the atmosphere—and its termination in the ocean, may be regarded as imaging the divine origin of the human mind, and its being ultimately returned to, and lost in, the infinite and eternal Intelligence from which it originally sprang."
Halieusoffers some curious observations with respect to the recollection of fish being associated with surrounding objects.
"I have known a fish that I have pricked retain his station in the river, and refuse the artificial fly, day after day, for weeks together; but his memory may have been kept awake by this practice, and therecollection seems local, and associated with surrounding objects; and if a pricked trout is chased into another pool, he will, I believe, soon again take the artificial fly. Or, if the objects around him are changed, as in autumn, by the decay of weeds, or by their being cut, the same thing happens; and a flood or a rough wind, I believe, assists the fly-fisher, not merely by obscuring the vision of the fish, but, in a river much fished, by changing the appearance of their haunts: large trouts almost always occupy particular stations, under, or close to, a large stone or tree; and probably, most of their recollected sensations are connected with this dwelling.
"Physicus.—I think I understand you, that the memory of the danger and pain does not last long, unless there is a permanent sensation with which it can remain associated,—such as the station of the trout; and that the recollection of the mere form of the artificial fly, without this association, is evanescent.
"Ornither.—You are diving into metaphysics; yet, I think, in fowling, I have observed that the memory of birds is local. A woodcock that has been much shot at and scared in a particular wood, runs to the side where he has usually escaped, the moment he hears the dogs; but if driven into a new wood, he seems to lose his acquired habits of caution, and becomes stupid."
In alluding to the migrations of fishes,Physicusobserves, "That he has always considered that the two great sources of change of place of animals, was the providing of food for themselves, and resting-placesand food for their young. The great supposed migrations of herrings from the poles to the temperate zone appear to be only the approach of successive shoals from deep to shallow water, for the purpose of spawning. The migrations of salmon and trout are evidently for the purpose of depositing their ova, or of finding food after they have spawned."
In explaining the circumstances which render a migration into shallow water necessary for the developement of the ova, Davy evidently bears in mind the result of his very first experiment.[111]
"Carp, perch, and pike, deposit their ova in still water, in spring and summer,when it is supplied with air by the growth of vegetables; and it is to the leaves of plants, which afford a continual supply of oxygen to the water, that the impregnated eggs usually adhere." Again: "Fish in spawning-time always approach great shallows, or shores covered with weeds,which, in the process of their growth, under the influence of the sunshine, constantly supply pure air to the water in contact with them."
The following passage will afford a good specimen of the familiar dialogue, while it will convey to the reader some curious facts connected with the influence of sunshine.
"Halieus.—Well, gentlemen, what sport?
"Poietes.—The fish are rising every where; but though we have been throwing over them with all our skill for a quarter of an hour, yet not a single one will take; and I am afraid we shall return to breakfast without our prey.
"Halieus.—I will try; but I shall go to the other side, where I see a very large fish rising—There!—I have him at the very first throw—Land this fish, and put him into the well. Now, I have another; and I have no doubt I could take half-a-dozen in this very place, where you have been so long in fishing without success.
"Physicus.—You must have a different fly; or, have you some unguent or charm to tempt the fish?
"Halieus.—No such thing. If any of you will give me your rod and fly, I will answer for it. I shall have the same success. I take your rod, Physicus—and lo! I have a fish!
"Physicus.—What can be the reason of this? It is perfectly inexplicable to me. Yet Poietes seems to throw as light as you do, and as well as he did yesterday.
"Halieus.—I am surprised that you, who are a philosopher, cannot discover the reason of this—Think a little.
"All.—We cannot.
"Halieus.—As you are my scholars, I believe I must teach you. The sun is bright, and you have been, naturally enough, fishing with your backs to the sun, which, not being very high, has thrown the shadows of your rods and yourselves upon the water, and you have alarmed the fish, wherever you have thrown a fly. You see, I have fished with my face towards the sun, and though inconvenienced by the light, have given no alarm. Follow my example, and you will soon have sport, as there is a breeze playing on the water.
"Physicus.—Your sagacity puts me in mind ofan anecdote which I remember to have heard respecting the late eloquent statesman, Charles James Fox; who, walking up Bond Street from one of the club-houses with an illustrious personage, laid him a wager, that he would see more cats than the Prince in his walk, and that he might take which side of the way he liked. When they got to the top, it was found, that Mr. Fox had seen thirteen cats, and the Prince not one. The Royal personage asked for an explanation of this apparent miracle, and Mr. Fox said, 'Your Royal Highness took, of course, the shady side of the way, as most agreeable; I knew that the sunny side would be left to me,—and cats always prefer the sunshine.'
"Halieus.—There! Poietes, by following my advice, you have immediately hooked a fish; and while you are catching a brace, I will tell you an anecdote, which as much relates to fly-fishing as that of Physicus, and affords an elucidation of a particular effect of light.
"A manufacturer of carmine, who was aware of the superiority of the French colour, went to Lyons for the purpose of improving his process, and bargained with the most celebrated manufacturer in that capital for the acquisition of his secret, for which he was to pay a thousand pounds. He was shown all the processes, and saw a beautiful colour produced, yet he found not the least difference in the French mode of fabrication and that which he had constantly adopted. He appealed to the manufacturer, and insisted that he must have concealed something. The manufacturer assured him that he had not, and invited him to see the process a secondtime. He minutely examined the water and the materials, which were the same as his own, and, very much surprised, said, 'I have lost my labour and my money, for the air of England does not permit us to make good carmine.'—'Stay,' says the Frenchman, 'do not deceive yourself; what kind of weather is it now?'—'A bright, sunny day,' said the Englishman.—'And such are the days,' said the Frenchman, 'on which I make my colour. Were I to attempt to manufacture it on a dark or cloudy day, my result would be the same as yours. Let me advise you, my friend, always to make carmine on bright and sunny days.'—'I will,' says the Englishman, 'but I fear I shall make very little in London.'
"Poietes.—Your anecdote is as much to the purpose as Physicus's; yet I am much obliged to you for the hint respecting the effect of shadow, for I have several times, in May and June, had to complain of too clear a sky, and wished, with Cotton, for