Faraday was apprenticed to Mr. Riebau on October 7, 1805, and learned the business of a bookbinder. He occasionally occupied his spare time in reading the scientific books he had to bind, and was particularly interested in Mrs. Marcet's "Conversations in Chemistry," and in the article on "Electricity" in the "Encyclopædia Britannica." These were days before the existence of the London Society for the Extension of University Teaching, and, though Professor Anderson in Glasgow had shown how the advantages of a university might be extended to those whose fortunes prevented them from becoming regular university students, Professor Stuart had not yet taught the English universities that they had responsibilities outside their own borders, and that the national universities of the future must be the teachers of all classes of the community. But private enterprise supplied in a measure the neglect of public bodies. Mr. Tatum, of 43, Dorset Street, Fleet Street, advertised a course of lectures on natural philosophy, to be delivered at his residence at eight o'clock in the evenings. The price of admission was high, being a shilling for each lecture, but Michael's brother Robert frequently supplied him with the money, and in attending these lectures Faraday made many friendships which were valuable to him afterwards.
Faraday appears to have been aware of the value of skill in drawing—a point to which much attention has recently been called by those interested in technical education—and he spent some portion of his time in studying perspective, so as to be better able to illustrate his notes of Mr. Tatum's lectures, as well as of some of Sir Humphry Davy's, which he was enabled to hear at the Royal Institution through the kindness of a customer at Mr. Riebau's shop.
In 1812, before the end of his apprenticeship, Faraday was engaged in experiments with voltaic batteries of his own construction. Having cut out seven discs of zinc the size of halfpence, and covered them with seven halfpence, he formed a pile by inserting pieces of paper soaked in common salt between each pair, and found that the pile so constructed was capable of decomposing Epsom salts. With a somewhat larger pile he decomposed copper sulphate and lead acetate, and made some experiments on the decomposition of water. On July 21, 1812, in writing to his friend Abbott, he mentions the movements of camphor when floating on water, and adds, "Science may be illustrated by those minute actions and effects, almost as much as by more evident and obvious phenomena.... My knife is so bad that I cannot mend my pen with it; it is now covered with copper, having been employed to precipitate that metal from the muriatic acid."
Something of Faraday's disposition, as well as of the results of his self-education, may be gathered from the following quotations from letters to Abbott, written at this time:—
I have again gone over your letter, but am so blinded that I cannot see any subject except chlorine to write on; but before entering on what I intend shall fill up the letter, I will ask your pardon for having maintained an opinion against one who was so ready to give his own up. I suspect from that circumstance I am wrong.... In the present case I conceive that experiments may be divided into three classes: first, those which are for the old theory of oxymuriatic acid, and consequently oppose the new one; second, those which are for the new one, and oppose the old theory; and third, those which can be explained by both theories—apparently so only, for in reality a false theory can never explain a fact."
It is not for me to affirm that I am right and you wrong; speaking impartially, I can as well say that I am wrong and you right, or that we both are wrong and a third right. I am not so self-opinionated as to suppose that my judgment and perception in this or other matters is better or clearer than that of other persons; nor do I mean to affirm that this is the true theory in reality, but only that my judgment conceives it to be so. Judgments sometimes oppose each other, as in this case; and as there cannot be two opposing facts in nature, so there cannot be two opposing truths in the intellectual world. Consequently, when judgments oppose, one must be wrong—one must be false; and mine may be so for aught I can tell. I am not of a superior nature to estimate exactly the strength and correctness of my own and other men's understanding, and will assure you, dear A——, that I am far from being convinced that my own is always right. I have given you the theory—not as the true one, but as the one which appeared true to me—and when I perceive errors in it, I will immediately renounce it, in part or wholly, as my judgment may direct. From this, dear friend, you will see that I am very open to conviction; and from the manner in which I shall answer your letter, you will also perceive that I must be convinced before I renounce.
On October 7, 1812, Faraday's apprenticeship terminated, and immediately afterwards he started life as a journeyman bookbinder. He now found that he had less time at his disposal for scientific work than he had enjoyed when an apprentice, and his desire to give up his trade and enter fully upon scientific pursuits became stronger than ever. During his apprenticeship he had written to Sir Joseph Banks, then President of the Royal Society, in the hope of obtaining some scientific employment; he now applied to Sir Humphry Davy. In a letter written to Dr. Paris, in 1829, Faraday gave an account of this application.
"My desire to escape from trade, which I thought vicious and selfish, and to enter into the service of science, which I imagined made its pursuers amiable and liberal, induced me at last to take the bold and simple step of writing to Sir H. Davy, expressing my wishes, and a hope that, if an opportunity came in his way, he would favour my views; at the same time, I sent the notes I had taken of his lectures.
"The answer, which makes all the point of my communication, I send you in the original, requesting you to take great care of it, and to let me have it back, for you may imagine how much I value it.
"You will observe that this took place at the end of the year 1812; and early in 1813 he requested to see me, and told me of the situation of assistant in the laboratory of the Royal Institution, then just vacant.
"At the same time that he thus gratified my desires as to scientific employment, he still advised me not to give up the prospects I had before me, telling me that Science was a harsh mistress, and, in a pecuniary point of view, but poorly rewarding those who devoted themselves to her service. He smiled at my notion of the superior moral feelings of philosophic men, and said he would leave me to the experience of a few years to set me right on that matter.