Having thus candidly avowed the errors of Davy, I may be justified in claiming from the reader his confidence in the sincerity with which I shall attempt to palliate them. From my personal knowledge of his character, I am inclined to refer much of that unfortunate manner, which has been considered as the expression of a haughty consciousness of superiority, to the desire of concealing a _mauvaise honte_ and _gaucherie_--an ungraceful timidity, which he could never conquer. The bashful man, if he possess strong passions, will frequently force himself into a state of effrontery, by a violence of effort which passes amongst ordinary observers for the sallies of pride, or the ebullitions of temper; whereas if, on the contrary, his temperament be cold and passionless, he will exhibit traits of the most painful reserve. This proposition cannot, perhaps, be more forcibly illustrated than by a comparison of the manners of Davy and Cavendish, whose temperaments were certainly as much opposed to each other as fire is to ice: the latter, however, was shy and bashful, to a degree bordering upon disease; and nothing so much distressed him as an introduction to strangers, or as his being pointed out as a person distinguished in science. On one of the Sunday evening _soirées_ of Sir Joseph Banks, he happened to be conversing with his friend Mr. Hatchett, when Dr. Ingenhouz, who was rather remarkable for pomposity of manner, approached him with an Austrian gentleman in his hand, and introduced him formally to Mr. Cavendish. He recounted the titles and qualifications of his foreign friend at great length, and concluded by saying, that he had been particularly anxious to be introduced to a philosopher so universally celebrated throughout Europe as Mr. Cavendish. As soon as Dr. Ingenhouz had finished, the Austrian gentleman began; he assured Mr. Cavendish that one of his principal inducements in coming to London, was to see and converse with one whom he considered the most distinguished chemist of the age. To all these high-flown addresses, Mr. Cavendish answered not a single word, but stood with his eyes cast down upon the floor, in a state of the most painful confusion. At length, espying an opening in the crowd, he darted through it with all the speed he could command, and never stopped until he reached his carriage, which immediately drove him home. From the same cause, probably, arose Davy's inattention and carelessness in those little observances of etiquette, which many may treat as empty and unmeaning ceremonials, but which the members of a polished community regard as the delicate expressions of feeling, and the language of sentiment.