When a friend wrote to him on hearing a rumour that he had himself been knighted, his reply, published years after in the London Review, was: “I am happy that I am not a Sir, and do not intend (if it depends upon me) to become one. By the Prussian knighthood[57] I do feel honoured; in the other I should not.”
On one occasion he commented rather sarcastically upon the British Government and its stinginess as compared with those of all other civilised countries in its aids to scientific progress. This complaint is equally justified to-day. To many it may be news that England pays to its Astronomer Royal—who must obviously be a person of very high scientific qualifications—a salary less than those paid to the five assistant under-secretaries in the Colonial and Foreign Offices; less than that paid to the sergeants-at-arms in the Houses of Parliament; less than that paid to the person appointed Director of Clothing in the War Office. Enlightened England!
Faraday did not deem the pursuit of science to be necessarily incompatible with what he termed “professional business”—that is, expert work. Until the day when he abandoned all professional engagements, so as to devote himself to researches, he had been receiving a considerable and growing income from this source. But he objected to the indignities to which this work exposed him from lawyers, who would not understand that he took no partisan view. He could not endure the browbeating of cross-examining counsel. The late Lord Cardwell was witness to a gentle but crushing reproof which he once administered to a barrister who attempted to bully him. A writer in the British Quarterly Review attributes to a specific case his determination to cease expert work.
He gave evidence once in a judicial case, when the scientific testimony, starting from given premises, was so diverse that the presiding judge, in summing up launched something like a reproach at the scientific witnesses. “Science has not shone this day,” was his lordship’s remark. From that time forth no one ever saw Faraday as a scientific witness before a law tribunal.
UNIVERSITY DEGREES IN SCIENCE.
Amongst the honours received by Faraday there was one of which, in 1838, he said that he felt it equal to any other he had received—namely, that of Member of the Senate of the University of London, to which position he was nominated in 1836 by the Crown. For twenty-seven years he remained a senator, and when, in 1859, the project for creating degrees in science was on foot, he was one of the committee who drew up a report and scheme of examination for the Senate. To the Rev. John Barlow he wrote on this matter:—
The Senate of the University accepted and approved of the report of the Committee for Scientific Degrees, so that that will go forward (if the Government approve), and will come into work next year. It seems to give much satisfaction to all who have seen it, though the subject is beset with difficulties; for when the depth and breadth of science came to be considered, and an estimate was made of how much a man ought to know to obtain a right to a degree in it, the amount in words seemed to be so enormous as to make me hesitate in demanding it from the student; and though in the D.S. one could divide the matter and claim eminence in one branch of science, rather than good general knowledge in all, still in the B.S., which is a progressive degree, a more extended though a more superficial acquaintance seemed to be required. In fact, the matter is so new, and there is so little that can serve as a previous experience in the founding and arranging these degrees, that one must leave the whole endeavour to shape itself as the practice and experience accumulates.
When, in 1863, his feebleness impelled him to resign this position, he wrote to Dr. Carpenter:—
The position of a senator is one that should not be held by an inactive man to the exclusion of an active one. It has rejoiced my heart to see the progress of the University, and of education under its influence and power; and that delight I hope to have so long as life shall be spared to me.
He had little sympathy with either text-book science or with mere examinations. “I have far more confidence,” he wrote, “in the one man who works mentally and bodily at a matter than in the six who merely talk about it. Nothing is so good as an experiment which, whilst it sets error right, gives an absolute advancement in knowledge.” In another place he wrote:—“Let the imagination go, guarding it by judgment and principles, but holding it in and directing it by experiment.” For book-learned chemistry and mere chemical theory, apart from experimental facts, he had an undisguised contempt. Writing to General Portlock on the subject of chemical education, he stated that he had been one of the Senate of the University of London appointed to consider especially the best method of examination. They had decided on examination by papers, accompanied by vivâ voce. “We think,” he added, “that no numerical value can be attached to the questions, because everything depends on how they are answered.” Then, referring to the teaching at Woolwich, he says, “My instructions always have been to look to the note-books for the result.” “Lectures alone cannot be expected to give more than a general idea of this most extensive branch of science, and it would be too much to expect that young men who at the utmost hear only fifty lectures on chemistry should be able to answer with much effect, in writing, to questions set down on paper, when we know by experience that daily work for eight hours in practical laboratories for three months does not go very far to confer such ability.”