"May make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time."
"The true scientist," says Mr. Robert Buchanan in a recent work, "should be patient like Darwin and reverent like Faraday." The latter, indeed, seems to me to have been a truly typical scientist. Never have we seen an instance of a less selfish devotion to a man's chosen work. Born the son of a journeyman blacksmith, brought up amidst the most unpromising surroundings, with but the scantiest schooling, we find Michael Faraday educating himself during his spare time, and gradually acquiring, by indomitable perseverance, that scientific knowledge for which he thirsted. We find him seeking employment, even in the humblest capacity, in a place that must have appeared to his youthful mind as the very home of science. Once there, we find him advancing with marvellous rapidity not only in the acquirement of knowledge which had been gained by others, but, yet prouder position, we find him ever adding to that store of knowledge the discovery of new facts. The patience of the true scientist was assuredly his. We find him acknowledged by his great contemporaries not only as an equal but as a leader among them. We find him with wealth and high social position within his reach. All this do we find—and not this alone; for we find him at the same time unspoiled in the slightest degree by his success; caring not in the least for the wealth that might be his, and declining honours which most men would have considered as but the fair reward of work which they had done. We find him also the object of love and admiration, not of his family and intimate friends alone, but of all persons with whom he came into contact. We find him exploring all the hidden workings of nature—making known discovery after discovery in the same modest and enthusiastic manner; and despite all these inquiries into the secrets of nature, we find him retaining unshaken that firm faith with which he had started—that beautiful and unquestioning trust in
"A far off divine event
To which the whole creation moves."
Much of Faraday's kindliness and good nature, his considerateness and his simple earnest faith could be revealed only by his letters and by the records of those who had known him personally—on this account I have found it necessary somewhat freely to make use of illustrative quotations. After studying his life, however, the kindliness, nay more, the true brotherhood of the man with all men is the feeling which most firmly clings to us; we do not alone remember the great electrician, experimentalist, and lecturer, but we have an ever-present idea of the sterling goodness of the man.
"A purer, less selfish, more stainless existence, has rarely been witnessed. At last came the voice which the dying alone can hear, and the hand which the living may not see, beckoned him away; and then that noble intellect, awakening from its lethargy, like some sleeper roused from a heavy dream, rose up and passed through the gates of light into the better land, where, doubtless, it is now immersed in the study of grander mysteries than it ever attempted to explore on earth."
In closing this preface I have much pleasure in recording my deep indebtedness to Miss Jane Barnard, a niece of the great Professor, and for some two and twenty years a member of his household, for several reminiscences of her uncle; and also for her kindness in allowing me to look through the many interesting manuscripts of Faraday's which are in her possession.
WALTER JERROLD.