The Project Gutenberg eBook, Michael Faraday, by Walter Jerrold

MICHAEL FARADAY.

MICHAEL FARADAY:
Man of Science.

BY
WALTER JERROLD.

"Whose work was wrought for love, and not for gain."

"One rule his life was fashioned to fulfil;

That he who tends Truth's shrine and does the hest

Of Science, with a humble, faithful will,

The God of Truth and Knowledge serveth best."

FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY,
NEW YORKCHICAGOTORONTO

Publishers of Evangelical Literature.

PREFACE.

"Tyndall, I must remain plain Michael Faraday to the last." In these words, with which he replied to Professor Tyndall's urgent appeal to him to accept the Presidency of the Royal Society, we have a key-note to the character of the illustrious yet modest scientist, the good and great man, whose life-story I have attempted to tell in the following pages.

A life-story such as that of Michael Faraday is both easy and difficult to tell—it is easy in that he passed a simple and unadventurous life; it is difficult, partly, perhaps, for the same reason, and partly because the story of his life-work is a story of the wonderful advance made in natural science during the first half of the present century. Any detailed account of that scientific work would be out of place in a biography such as the present, which aims at showing by the testimony of those who knew him and by an account of his relations with his fellow-men, how nobly unselfish, how simple, yet how grand and useful, was the long life of Michael Faraday.

Besides this, we are shown—how many an illustrious name in the bede-roll of our great men brings it to mind—that with an enthusiastic love for a particular study, and unflagging perseverance in pursuance of it, the most adverse circumstance of birth and fortune may be overcome, and he who has striven take rank among the great and good whose names adorn the annals of their country. Such lives are useful, not alone for the work which is done, but for the example which they afford us, that we also—to use Longfellow's well-known, yet beautifully true lines—

"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.

LIBRARY, ROYAL INSTITUTION

CONTENTS.

MICHAEL FARADAY.

CHAPTER I.
As Child—Newsboy and Bookbinder.

"A virtuous household, though exceeding poor!

Pure livers were they all, austere and grave,

And fearing God; the very children taught

Stern self-respect, a reverence for God's word,

And an habitual piety."

Wordsworth.

Among those of our great men who, born in humble circumstances and unfurnished with the benefits of early education, have yet secured for themselves honourable positions in the history of the world's progress, Michael Faraday holds a remarkable place. Born the son of a journeyman blacksmith, Michael yet gained for himself a conspicuous position among the very first scientists of his day, and at the time of his death was acknowledged as one of the leading philosophers—electricians—chemists—of this nineteenth century.

Our interest in a great man makes us always interested also in his family—we become anxious to know who and what he was apart from that which has made him great. Who were his parents? from where did they come? what were they like? what did they do? and a number of similar questions are at once started as soon as we commence considering the lives of our "great and good." In the case of Faraday we have only scanty information as to his family, but thus much we have gleaned:—

During the whole of last century there was living in or near the village of Clapham, in Yorkshire, a family of the name of Faraday. Between the years 1708 and 1730 the Clapham parish register shows us that "Richard ffaraday, stonemason, tiler, and separatist," recorded the births of ten children, and it is probable that he had in his large family yet another son, Robert. Whether, however, Robert was his son or only his nephew is a matter of doubt, but it is known of him that he married Elizabeth Dean, the possessor of a small though comfortable house called Clapham Wood Hall, and that he was the father of ten children, one of whom, James, was born in 1761, and became the father of Michael Faraday.

Robert and Elizabeth Faraday's six sons were each of them brought up to some trade or craft, and were thus all of them fitted to go out into the world and fight the battle of life. One son became a grocer and (as his grandfather, "Richard ffaraday," had been) tiler; one a farmer; one a shoemaker, and so on. The third son, James, to us the most interesting member of this large family, although he appears to have been of somewhat weak constitution and unfitted for so laborious a vocation, became a blacksmith, served his apprenticeship, and exercised his craft for some time in the neighbourhood of his birthplace. When he was five-and-twenty years old (in 1786), James married; his wife being Margaret Hastwell, the daughter of a farmer living near Kirkby Stephen, a place some few miles away from Clapham, over the Westmoreland border. For two years or thereabouts did the young blacksmith and his wife remain in the neighbourhood of Clapham; but after that time had elapsed they determined to come up to London, and seek their fortunes in the great metropolis. To the young men and women of our rural places the very name of London has about it, even to-day, a ring as of genuine coin, that tempts them to leave in large numbers the homes of their childhood that they may plunge into the vortex of city life. A hundred years ago this strange attractive power of the metropolis was probably much greater, owing to the difficulty of reaching it and the vague stories that were told of its wealth. They who had "been to London" were looked upon in rural places as veritable travellers, and were to their "home-keeping" friends objects of greater curiosity than anyone who to-day returns from the farthest or wildest portion of the earth's surface. The old story of "the London streets being paved with gold"—the story that had buoyed up the spirits of the youthful Whittington—seems yet in the last century to have gained some credence. Whether they were induced to do so by promises of work, or merely attracted to London as a centre where work would probably be plentiful, we cannot say; but it is at any rate certain that the Faradays removed from the Yorkshire village to a London suburb some time before the autumn of 1791. For it was on the 22nd of September in that year that there was born to them at Newington Butts their third child, Michael, the future illustrious chemist and philosopher, upon the story of whose life we are now about to enter.

Of Michael's early years we have but a very meagre account. When he was about five years old his family removed from Newington Butts, and went to live in Jacob's Well Mews, Charles Street, Manchester Square, where they occupied rooms over a coach-house. James Faraday found employment at this time in Welbeck Street, while his young son passed his time, as children so circumstanced generally do, in playing in the streets; in after years, indeed, that son, become a prominent man, would point out where in Spanish Place he used to play at marbles, and where in Manchester Square he had at a later time been proud of having to take care of his younger sister, Margaret. It was from Jacob's Well Mews, too, that Michael went to school, and received such scant education as was to be his before it became necessary that he, as a youth of thirteen, should step into the ranks of the workers and begin the battle of life in earnest; such education as he received was of the "most ordinary description (to use his own words), consisting of little more than the rudiments of reading, writing, and arithmetic at a common day-school. My hours out of school were passed at home and in the streets."

When Faraday was a boy nine years of age, in the first year of the present century, there was a time of much distress, when the rate of wages was very low, and the price of food very high: corn, indeed, which is at the present time about forty shillings per quarter, cost then as much as £9 for the same quantity. The distress, was felt very generally throughout the country, and the Faraday family severely felt the hard times; Michael, we are told, was allowed one loaf each week, and, it is added (poor Michael!), that the loaf had to last him that time.

THE HOUSE IN JACOB'S WELL MEWS.

Near by where the Faraday family lived in Jacob's Well Mews there was, at No. 2, Blandford Street, a worthy bookseller named Riebau. In 1804, when Faraday was a boy of thirteen, he was employed as an errand boy by Mr. Riebau, "for one year on trial"—a trial that, as we shall shortly see, proved highly satisfactory. Michael's duty as errand boy, when he commenced, was to carry round the newspapers which were lent out by his master. He would get up very early each Sunday morning, and take the papers round, so that he might be able to call again for them while it was yet fairly early; frequently he would be told that he "must call again," as the paper was not done with. On such occasions he would beg to be allowed to have it at once, as the next place at which he had to call might be a mile off, and he would lose so much time going twice over his rounds that he would not be able to get home and make himself neat, so that he might go with his parents to their place of worship. Mr. Riebau's shop, it may be noted, has changed but little since the early part of this century, it is still a stationer's business, and on the front of the house is placed a plaque bearing the simple inscription "Michael Faraday, Man of Science," with the date of his apprenticeship there. This plaque has furnished the simple yet sufficient title for this volume.

His father, it may here be noted, had joined the Sandemanian Church, or the followers of Robert Sandeman, who, with his father-in-law, the Reverend John Glas, had seceded from the Scotch Presbyterian Church, and with him had started the sect which was named after Sandeman, or, as they are still called in Scotland, Glasites. In joining the Sandemanian Church, James Faraday was following the family tradition, for the large family of Clapham Faradays, to whom we have referred, were all members of the same body. Michael's mother, although she had not formally become a member of the Church, used regularly to attend as one of the congregation. Michael, as we shall learn, joined the Church later on, and continued a devout and sincere member of it up to the time of his death.

For about a year did young Faraday continue as Mr. Riebau's errand boy; for about a year, as Professor Tyndall puts it, "he slid along the London pavements, a bright-eyed errand boy, with a load of brown curls upon his head and a packet of newspapers under his arm." We learn from one of his nieces that in his later years he rarely saw a newsboy without making some kind remark about him; as he said on one such occasion, "I always feel a tenderness for those boys, because I once carried newspapers myself." He was reproached, he says, as a boy, with being a great questioner. "He that questioneth much," says Lord Bacon, "shall learn much;" but this truth is too often forgotten by their elders when children are "inquisitive," and, as in Faraday's case, what is but the natural questioning of an awakening mind is put down to idle curiosity, and the child is told (as we may often hear) "not to ask so many questions."

Although Faraday says he was thus "charged with being a great questioner," he could not recall what kind of questions he put; though he tells one story against himself which shows that all questioning, even that of a young philosopher, is not necessarily wise. He had called at a certain house to leave a newspaper, and whilst waiting for the door to be opened he put his head between the iron bars that separated the house from the next, and while in that position asked himself, somewhat strangely, which side of the railing he was on? No sooner had he started the question than the door behind him opened, he drew suddenly back, and, hitting himself so as to make his nose bleed, he forgot all about his question, which, without being answered, was yet it would seem somewhat definitely settled.

When his year as errand boy expired, Michael was apprenticed to Mr. Riebau to learn the trade of bookbinder and stationer. His indentures are dated October 7th, 1805, and contain in one line an excellent testimonial to his character: "In consideration of his faithful service no premium is given." Of the earlier part of his seven years' apprenticeship we know but little. His father wrote in 1809 to a brother at the old home at Clapham, "Michael is bookbinder and stationer, and is very active at learning his business. He has been most part of four years of his time out of seven. He has a very good master and mistress, and likes his place well. He had a hard time for some while at first going; but, as the old saying goes, he has rather got the head above water, as there are two boys under him."

"MICHAEL FARADAY, MAN OF SCIENCE, APPRENTICE HERE."

In that he was placed within reach of many and good books, which should go a great way towards deciding his scientific and speculative bent of mind, a position such as that in Mr. Riebau's shop was as good a one as he could have had. Not only were many scientific books, that had hitherto been unavailable, now placed ready to his hand, but he had in Riebau a kind and considerate master; he was allowed, and it was a valuable privilege, to be out occasionally of an evening that he might attend the lectures on natural philosophy which a Mr. Tatum was delivering at that time at his house in Dorset Street, Fleet Street. Michael saw bills announcing the lectures in shop windows, and became anxious to hear them, which he was enabled to do owing to the kindness of his master, Mr. Riebau, and the generosity of his elder brother Robert, who at the time was following their father's business, and made Michael a present on several occasions of the shilling which was charged for entrance to the lectures.

Towards the end of the year 1809 Faraday's family removed from Jacob's Well Mews, where their home had been for thirteen years, and went to live at 18, Weymouth Street, near Portland Place, and there, on October 30th of the following year, James Faraday died. He had been out of health for some years, and seems indeed to have been quite physically unfitted for so laborious an occupation as that of blacksmith. In 1807 he had written to a brother at Clapham, "I am sorry to say I have not had the pleasure of enjoying one day's health for a long time. Although I am very seldom off work for a whole day together, yet I am under the necessity (through pain) of being from work part of almost every day." He then concludes his letter in that spirit of simple yet earnest devotion that appears to have been characteristic of the whole family: "But we, perhaps, ought to leave these matters to the overruling hand of Him who has a sovereign right to do what seemeth good to Him, both in the armies of heaven and amongst the inhabitants of the earth."

Michael's strong affection for his parents became, as he grew older, one of the most marked features of his character; his great love for his mother is shown in many ways, notably in every letter which he wrote to her. The following story illustrates, as do many others that are told of him, Faraday's depth of feeling with regard to his family. After he had become recognised by the world as the great man that he was, and when sitting to Noble for his bust, it happened that the sculptor, in giving the finishing touches to the marble, made a clattering with his chisels: noticing that his sitter appeared moved, he said he feared the jingling of the tools had distressed him, and that he was weary. "No, my dear Mr. Noble," said Faraday, putting his hand upon his shoulder, "but the noise reminded me of my father's anvil, and took me back to my boyhood."

Gradually Faraday's interest widened in those matters which later on were to entirely engross his attention. His apprenticeship at first gave him many opportunities of reading philosophical and scientific works. "I loved," he afterwards wrote, referring to this time, "to read the scientific books which were under my hands, and, amongst them, delighted in Marcet's Conversations in Chemistry, and the electrical treatise in the Encyclopædia Britannica. I made," he adds, and the item is interesting as giving us a first glimpse at his experiments, "I made such simple experiments in chemistry as could be defrayed in their expense by a few pence per week, and also constructed an electrical machine, first with a glass phial, and afterwards with a real cylinder, as well as other electrical apparatus of a corresponding kind." Watts' On the Mind, was, he said, the first thing that made him really think; while his thoughts were directed towards science by an article on electricity, which he lighted upon in an encyclopædia entrusted to him to bind. Such glimpses into the early reading—showing us how the bent of his genius is decided—are always interesting in the life of one who, as Tennyson says, "Has made by force his merit known."

Into Faraday's early reading—or that part of his reading which bore upon the science with which his name is so intimately connected—we have indeed something more than a glimpse, for he compiled (during 1809-10) a note book in which he wrote down the names of such books and articles connected with the sciences as interested him. This note book he called, "The Philosophical Miscellany: being a collection of notices, occurrences, events, etc., relating to the arts and sciences, collected from the public papers, reviews, magazines, and other miscellaneous works; intended to promote both amusement and instruction, and also to corroborate or invalidate those theories which are continually starting into the world of science."

Thus ambitiously did Michael Faraday, a youth of not yet twenty years, start upon his career as an investigator; thus early did he evince a desire to "corroborate or invalidate those theories which are continually starting into the world of science." Among books and articles to which reference is made in the interesting Miscellany, there are papers by Dr. Darwin,[1] papers on a "Description of a Pyro-pneumatic Apparatus," and "Experiment on the Ocular Spectra of Light and Colours," frequent references to "lightning," "electric fish," and other electrical phenomena, showing his early leaning towards this particular branch of investigation. There is a reference to the short essay on the Formation of Snow, which forms the reading for December 5th, in that interesting, and at the present time neglected, work, Sturm's Reflections on the Works of God. This book has perhaps been supplanted in a great measure by the many popular treatises on science and natural history which recent years have produced, but which, nevertheless, have not taken the place of the Reflections, the simplicity and directness of which give to the volume a perennial charm such as but few books can maintain. Other papers, such as that on "How to Loosen Glass Stopples," included in the Miscellany, show us Faraday's interest in the science of everyday life, to which in his later years we owe those delightfully interesting lectures on "The Chemical History of a Candle," lectures to which fuller reference is made later on in this volume. One other reference in the Miscellany is at any rate worthy of passing note for obvious reasons, or for reasons which are obvious as soon as we learn how closely connected is the career of Faraday with that of his great benefactor and predecessor in the field of research, Sir Humphry Davy. The reference is from the Chemical Observer, to the effect that "Mr. Davy (he was knighted in 1812) has announced to the Royal Society a great discovery in chemistry—the fixed alkalies have been decomposed by the galvanic battery."

From the lectures at Mr. Tatum's house our young philosopher gained something more than a knowledge of the subjects discussed—he gained several friends, intercourse and exchange of ideas with whom were to form no inconsiderable part of his education; that he might illustrate the lectures, too, he set to study perspective, being kindly assisted in his work by Mr. Masquarier, a French refugee artist who was lodging at the time at Mr. Riebau's, and whose kindness to him Faraday never in after years forgot to acknowledge. About a dozen lectures at Mr. Tatum's were spread over rather more than eighteen months (February, 1810—September, 1811). At them, Faraday became acquainted with Benjamin Abbott, a confidential clerk in the City—an acquaintance that ripened into life-long friendship; here also he met Huxtable, a medical student, to whom he addressed the earliest note of his which is extant. Other kindred spirits with whom Faraday entered into friendly relations at the Dorset Street lectures, were Magrath, Newton, Nichol, and many more. There is a perverted and ridiculous story told of Faraday's first hearing Davy lecture, to the effect that "Magrath happening, many years ago, to enter the shop of Mr. Riebau, observed one of the bucks of the paper bonnet zealously studying a book which he ought to have been binding. He approached; it was a volume of the old Britannica, open at 'Electricity.' He entered into talk with the journeyman, and was astonished to find in him a self-taught chemist, of no slender pretensions. He presented him with a set of tickets for Davy's lectures at the Royal Institution; and daily thereafter might the nondescript be seen perched, pen in hand, and his eyes starting out of his head, just over the clock opposite the chair. At last the course terminated; but Faraday's spirit had received a new impulse, which nothing but dire necessity could have restrained." This circumstantial yet exaggerated story, couched as it is in the worst of tastes, is yet quoted with approval in a recent work supposed of some authority.

Magrath, as we have seen, Faraday had met earlier, and, as he tells us himself, the kindness of giving him tickets for Davy's lectures was done him by Mr. Dance.[2] The story quoted above says also that he might be seen daily, and that "at last" the course terminated. To show us how garbled is this account and in what it is true, we will turn to an account of this incident—this important incident—in his life, which Faraday himself wrote out later at the request of a correspondent. "During my apprenticeship," he says, "I had the good fortune, through the kindness of Mr. Dance, who was a customer of my master's shop, and also a member of the Royal Institution, to hear four of the last lectures of Sir H. Davy in that locality. The dates of these lectures were February 29th, March 14th, April 8th and 10th, 1812. Of these I made notes, and then wrote out the lectures in a fuller form, interspersing them with such drawings as I could make. The desire to be engaged in scientific occupation, even though of the lowest kind, induced me, whilst an apprentice, to write, in my ignorance of the world and simplicity of my mind, to Sir Joseph Banks, then President of the Royal Society. Naturally enough, 'no answer' was the reply left with the porter."

The four lectures which Faraday heard during the spring of 1812 were, as we shall see in the next chapter, to mark an epoch in his life. At each of these lectures, we are told, the delighted youth listened to Sir Humphry Davy, from a seat in the gallery immediately over the clock directly facing the illustrious lecturer;[3] both speaker and listener being unaware of the close inter-connection there was destined to be between their two careers. But of this in the next chapter, for between Faraday's hearing Davy's lectures and his correspondence with that great man, there are one or two other interesting facts in connection with the life of our bookbinder's apprentice and would-be philosopher. In July of this year it was that Michael commenced his long and interesting series of letters to Benjamin Abbott, letters that show us how keenly alive Faraday was to all things connected with the work with which he was anxious to become more intimately connected, and at the same time how anxious he was to make up for his deficiencies of education.

In all his letters we find a charm in the simple earnestness of the man, in his straightforward search for truth, in the unreserved openness which characterised him when corresponding with one whom he not only called a friend, but treated as such on all occasions. Simplicity, in its best and highest meaning, was, if we can in one word sum up the character of a man, the chief feature of Faraday in all his relations throughout life. Through all his letters to his intimate friends, too, there runs a vein of unaffected pleasantry which shows us at once that he was no "mere scientist," no "dry-as-dust" philosopher, which is a character too often given by thoughtless and careless persons to men who earn their laurels in any special field of research. We find that the great chemist or philosopher is not only a great scientist, but that he is also, as Faraday undoubtedly was, a man of a simple, earnest, reverent nature, a man whose married life was one series of years of love-making, who was a cheerful, pleasant friend and companion, and intense and earnest lover of children.

Perhaps I cannot better conclude this chapter than by giving a few passages from his early letters, passages that will fully bear out much of what is said in the preceding paragraph. It was in July, 1812, three months before the articles of his apprenticeship ran out, that Faraday began his letters to Abbott; he was not as yet twenty-one years of age, his early education, as we have seen, had been chiefly the three R's, yet we find these letters eminently remarkable for their correctness and fluency, not less than for their kindness, courtesy, and candour. His first letter to Abbott is, indeed, doubly interesting, for it gives us the earliest account we have of any of his experiments. After writing a good deal on what he considers to be the advantage of a correspondence, he continues: "I have lately made a few simple galvanic experiments, merely to illustrate to myself the first principles of the science.... I, sir, I my own self, cut out seven discs of the size of halfpennies each! I, sir, covered them with seven halfpence, and I interposed between seven, or rather six, pieces of paper soaked in a solution of muriate of soda!!! But laugh no longer, dear A.; rather wonder at the effects this trivial power produced. It was sufficient to produce the decomposition of sulphate of magnesia—an effect which extremely surprised me; for I did not, could not, have any idea that the agent was competent to the purpose."

Again, to the same friend, he writes: "What? affirm you have little to say, and yet a philosopher? What a contradiction! What a paradox! 'tis a circumstance I till now had no idea of, nor shall I at any time allow you to advance it as a plea for not writing. A philosopher cannot fail to abound in subjects, and a philosopher can scarcely fail to have a plentiful flow of words, ideas, opinions, etc., etc., when engaged on them; at least, I never had reason to suppose you deficient there. Query by Abbott: 'Then pray, Mike, why have you not answered my last before now since subjects are so plentiful?' 'Tis neither more nor less, dear A., than a want of time. Time, sir, is all I require, and for time will I cry out most heartily. Oh that I could purchase at a cheap rate some of our modern gents' spare hours, nay, days; I think it would be a good bargain both for them and me. As for subjects, there is no want of them. I could converse with you, I will not say for ever, but for any finite length of time. Philosophy would furnish us with matter; and even now, though I have said nothing, yet the best part of a page is covered."

A little later he writes, acknowledging a letter from his friend, a letter which found him paper-hanging—"but what a change of thought it occasioned; what a concussion, confusion, conglomeration; what a revolution of ideas it produced—oh! 'twas too much; away went cloths, shears, paper, paste, and brush, all—all was too little, all was too light to keep my thoughts from soaring high, connected close with thine."

This letter, after referring to his friend's electrical experiments, he finishes somewhat sadly, "You know I shall shortly enter on the life of a journeyman, and then I suppose time will be more scarce than it is even now." Little did he dream how great a change in his prospects one short half year would make.

CHAPTER II.
The Turning Point.

"And Nature, the old nurse, took

The child upon her knee,

Saying: 'Here is a story-book

Thy Father has written for thee.'

'Come, wander with me,' she said,

'Into regions yet untrod;

And read what is still unread

In the manuscripts of God!'"

Longfellow.

There is a story told of Sir Humphry Davy, that, on being asked on a certain occasion to enumerate what he considered as his greatest discoveries, he named first one thing and then another,—now his wonderful safety-lamp, then some electrical discovery, finishing up with "but the greatest of all my discoveries was the discovery of Michael Faraday."

In the autumn of 1812, as we have seen, Faraday was a bookbinder, whose apprenticeship was just at an end, and who was contemplating, as the only thing possible, the taking up of life as a journeyman at the craft at which for seven years he had been working; indeed, a journeyman bookbinder he became, for in October of that year he engaged himself to a Mr. De la Roche, who, though a quick-tempered, passionate man, seems to have really cared for Faraday, so much so, indeed, that he said to him, "I have no child, and if you will stay with me you shall have all I have when I am gone." But Michael was not thus to be tempted from the path which he desired to tread, as he wrote afterwards to Davy's biographer, "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."

Shortly after Sir Humphry received Faraday's application, speaking to a friend—the honorary inspector of the models and apparatus—he said, "Pepys, what am I to do? Here is a letter from a young man named Faraday; he has been attending my lectures, and wants me to give him employment at the Royal Institution. What can I do?"

"Do?" was Pepys' reply, "do? put him to wash bottles; if he is good for anything, he will do it directly; if he refuses, he is good for nothing."

"No, no," said Davy, "we must try him with something better than that."

Notwithstanding the fact that his similar application of some months before to Sir Joseph Banks had met with no answer, Faraday, in his desire to leave trade for science, had thus addressed another of the leading men of the day. Davy's reply was "immediate, kind, and favourable." It was this—

"December 12th, 1812.

"To Mr. Faraday,

"Sir,—I am far from displeased with the proof you have given me of your confidence, and which displays great zeal, power of memory, and attention. I am obliged to go out of town, and shall not be settled in town till the end of January; I will then see you at any time you wish. It would gratify me to be of any service to you; I wish it may be in my power.

"I am, Sir, your obedient humble servant,

"H. Davy."

SIR HUMPHRY DAVY.

The young bookbinder's delight on receiving the great and kindly-natured man's note may easily be imagined, as also may his anxiety for Davy's return. Five weeks, however, are soon passed, and Michael duly met Sir Humphry "by the window which is nearest to the corridor, in the ante-room to the theatre" at the Royal Institution. Davy was much impressed by the sincerity and modesty of the applicant, but yet advised him to continue at his bookbinding, going so far, indeed, as to say that he would get the Royal Institution binding for him, and would recommend him to his friends.[4] With this, for the present, Faraday had to be content. He returned to his binding, delighted that he had met and conversed with the greatest chemist of his time, but still anxious for an opportunity to leave that trade to which, as he had said, he was so averse, and to become wholly the servant of that science to which he was so attached.

The change in his vocation was to come far more rapidly than he could have anticipated. He was still living, at this time (early in 1813), at 18, Weymouth Street, and one night, not very long after his interview with Davy, just as he was undressing to go to bed, there came a loud knock at the front door. Michael went to the window to see if there was any evidence as to whom the unwonted visitor might be. A carriage was there, from which a footman had alighted and left a note for "Mr. M. Faraday." It proved to be from Sir Humphry, who had already an opportunity of serving the young enthusiast. The note requested Michael to call on Davy the next morning. This he did, and learned that an assistant in the laboratory of the Royal Institution was required at once, the former assistant having been dismissed the day before. Michael instantly expressed his willingness to accept the position; he was to have twenty-five shillings a week salary, and two rooms at the top of the Institution building.

It was not long before arrangements were all completed. A meeting of the managers of the Institution was held on March 1st; the following is entered in the minutes of that day's proceedings:—"Sir Humphry Davy has the honour to inform the managers that he has found a person who is desirous to occupy the situation in the Institution lately filled by William Payne. His name is Michael Faraday. He is a youth of twenty-two years of age. As far as Sir H. Davy has been able to observe or ascertain, he appears well fitted for the situation. His habits seem good, his disposition active and cheerful, and his manner intelligent. He is willing to engage himself on the same terms as those given to Mr. Payne at the time of quitting the Institution. Resolved:—That Michael Faraday be engaged to fill the situation lately occupied by Mr. Payne on the same terms."

The duties of the assistant were specified by the managers in the following manner, his work being something other than the washing of bottles, which Pepys had recommended. It is a fact, also, that Faraday, almost from the commencement of his engagement, was concerned in more important work than that herein particularised. He was "to attend and assist the lecturers and professors in preparing for, and during, lectures; when any instruments or apparatus may be required, to attend to their careful removal from the model room or laboratory to the lecture-room, and to clean and replace them after being used, reporting to the manager such accidents as shall require repair, a constant diary being kept by him for that purpose. That, in one day in each week, he be employed in keeping clean the models in the repository, and that all the instruments in the glass cases be cleaned and dusted at least once within a month." As has been said, Faraday's work was almost from the first of a higher nature; he is reported to have set in order the mineralogical collection soon after his arrival.

But a very short while elapsed between Michael's appointment as assistant and his taking up the duties of his post, for, on the 8th of March, he writes to Abbott, dating his letter from his new home, the two rooms at the top of the Institution. His letter tells us that he was already concerned in the active duties of his post, as the following passages show: "It is now about nine o'clock, and the thought strikes me that the tongues are going both at Tatum's and at the lecture in Bedford Street; but I fancy myself much better employed than I should have been at the lecture at either of those places. Indeed, I have heard one lecture already to-day, and had a finger in it (I can't say a hand, for I did very little). It was by Mr. Powell on mechanics, or rather, on rotatory motion, and was a pretty good lecture, but not very fully attended.

"As I know you will feel a pleasure in hearing in what I have been or shall be occupied, I will inform you that I have been employed to-day, in part, in extracting the sugar from a portion of beetroot, and also in making a compound of sulphur and carbon—a combination which has lately occupied in a considerable degree the attention of chemists."

About a month after writing the letter of which the above forms a part, Faraday again wrote to his friend Abbott, giving him an account of some experiments, in which he had been assisting Sir Humphry Davy, on "the detonating compound of chlorine and azote, and of four different and strong explosions of the substance, explosions from which neither he nor Davy had altogether escaped unhurt." "Of these," he says, "the most terrible was when I was holding between my thumb and finger a small tube containing 7-1/2 grains of the compound. My face was within twelve inches of the tube; but I fortunately had on a glass mask. It exploded by the slight heat of a small piece of cement that touched the glass above half-an-inch from the substance, and on the outside. The explosion was so rapid as to blow my hand open, bear off a part of one nail, and has made my fingers so sore that I cannot yet use them easily. The pieces of the tube were projected with such force as to cut the glass face of the mask I had on." In the other three experiments also they each of them got more or less cut about by the explosion of the "terrible compound," as Faraday calls it, Davy, indeed, in the last one, getting somewhat seriously cut.

He writes thus frequently to Abbott during the summer of 1813, giving him in the later letters some well thought-out ideas on lectures and lecturing, which we shall have occasion to glance at when we are considering Faraday himself in the capacity of a lecturer,—one of the most popular and yet truly scientific lecturers of any time. In this year, his twenty-first, Faraday joined the City Philosophical Society, which had been founded about five years earlier by Mr. Tatum, at whose house the meetings were held. The Society consisted of some thirty or forty individuals, "perhaps all in the humble or moderate rank of life;" and certainly all of them anxious to improve themselves and add to their knowledge of scientific subjects. Once a week the members gathered together for mutual instruction; each member opening the discussion in his turn by reading a paper of a literary or philosophical nature, any member failing to do so at his proper time being fined half-a-guinea. In addition, the members had what they modestly called a "class book," but probably very like what we should now call a manuscript magazine; in this each member wrote essays, and the work was passed round from one to another.

Michael, it will be seen, was not neglecting any opportunity of educating himself; as he had said in starting his correspondence with Abbott, one of his objects was to improve himself in composition and to acquire a clear and simple method of expressing that which he had to say. Yet another method had he of furthering his self-education. In the scanty notes which he wrote about his own life he says, "During this spring (1813) Magrath and I established the mutual improvement plan, and met at my rooms up in the attics of the Royal Institution, or at Wood Street at his warehouse. It consisted, perhaps, of half-a-dozen persons, chiefly from the City Philosophical Society, who met of an evening to read together, and to criticise, correct, and improve each other's pronunciation and construction of language. The discipline was very sturdy, the remarks very plain and open, and the results most valuable. This continued for several years." It is a matter for wonder how Faraday, with all these attempts to improve his language and method, and to avoid even the slightest peculiarity, managed yet to retain in all his work a remarkable simplicity and naturalness of style.

On September 13, 1813, Faraday wrote to his uncle and aunt, giving them an account of himself because he had nothing else to say, and was asked by his mother to write the account:—"I was formerly a bookseller and binder, but am how turned philosopher, which happened thus: Whilst an apprentice, I, for amusement, learnt a little of chemistry and other parts of philosophy, and felt an eager desire to proceed in that way further. After being a journeyman for six months, under a disagreeable master, I gave up my business, and, by the interest of Sir Humphry Davy, filled the situation of chemical-assistant to the Royal Institution of Great Britain, in which office I now remain, and where I am constantly engaged in observing the works of nature and tracing the manner in which she directs the arrangement and order of the world. I have lately had proposals made to me by Sir Humphry Davy to accompany him, in his travels through Europe and into Asia, as philosophical assistant. If I go at all, I expect it will be in October next, about the end, and my absence from home will perhaps be as long as three years. But, as yet, all is uncertain, I have to repeat that, even though I may go, my path will not pass near any of my relations, or permit me to see those whom I so much long to see."

This Continental trip with Davy forms one of the chief episodes in Faraday's life. He had, though two-and-twenty years of age, never before been further than a few miles out of London. The country through which he passed, the sea, and the mountains, all came to him as a revelation. The letters which he wrote home from abroad, and the journals which he kept, all express his wonder at the strange sights, and all breathe the kindliness of nature and affection for home and those at home which all his life long were strongly marked characteristics. His letters to his mother are especially pleasing. He was away for but little over eighteen months, yet an account of his travels merits a chapter to itself. The commencement of 1813 marked an epoch in his life, the close of the same year marked another.

CHAPTER III.
"Home Thoughts from Abroad."

"One rule his life was fashioned to fulfil:

That he who tends Truth's shrine, and does the hest

Of Science, with a humble, faithful will,

The God of Truth and Knowledge serveth best."

"Wednesday, October 13th, 1813.—This morning formed an epoch in my life."

Thus commences the first entry in that journal, in which, all the while that he was away, Faraday noted down particulars of what he saw and thought. And, indeed, the young traveller's remark is by no means an exaggeration, as we recognise when we consider that he had never been out of sight of the metropolis, that he was accompanying one of the leading chemists, and that he and Davy, Englishmen both, were allowed free passports through France, although this and that country were at the time at war with one another. The fact that Davy was a scientist overshadowed the fact that he was an Englishman in the eyes of the French authorities; as the former, he was permitted to travel anywhere, and to use libraries, museums, etc., at any time; as the latter, he would have been instantly taken prisoner. This was an early and pleasing recognition of the universality of science, of its more than political or national interest, nay, of its international importance.

So minute are the descriptions of things seen, so clear and simple is the language employed, that Faraday's journal is most delightful reading; while the letters written home and to his friends are no less pleasing; perhaps, indeed, they are more so as they are so eminently characteristic of the man. They are remarkable for the unaffected spirit of affection which breathes through them, and show us, as indeed was shown in all ways throughout his life, the keen sensitiveness of his feelings and the genuine earnestness with which he was at all times seeking for self-improvement.

On reaching Plymouth, Faraday gives expression in his diary to the wonder which moved him at seeing the country for the first time. The journey, of course, had to be done by road, as it was long before the time of railways; but coach or carriage riding, during fine autumn weather, through some of the most delightful scenery of rural England, must at any time be preferable to, though less expeditious than, railway travelling; and that Michael felt the full benefit of it is shown by the following passage from the journal:—

"Friday, October 15th.—Reached Plymouth this afternoon. I was more taken by the scenery to-day than by anything else I have ever seen. It came upon me unexpectedly, and caused a kind of revolution in my ideas respecting the nature of the earth's surface. That such a revolution was necessary is, I confess, not much to my credit; and yet I can assign to myself a very satisfactory reason, in the habit of ideas induced by an acquaintance with no other green surface than that within three miles of London. Devonshire, however, presented scenery very different to this; the mountainous nature of the country continually put forward new forms and objects, and the landscape changed before the eye more rapidly than the organ could observe it. This day gave me some idea of the pleasures of travelling, and has raised my expectations of future enjoyment to a very high point."

If the surface of the earth gave our amateur traveller cause for wonder, what must have been his feelings when he first went down to the sea-shore? or when, on the night of October 17th, he was on board in mid-channel, with the "immense waves," as he graphically puts it, "striding one after another at a considerable distance?" or when, again, to use his own words, the vessel "sank down into the valleys between the great waves, and we had nothing in view but the wall of waters around us." He carefully observed, on this occasion, remaining on deck all night for that purpose, the phosphorescence of the sea. The next day they reached the harbour of Morlaix, on the French coast, where, after much examination of luggage, and searching in all possible and impossible places for contraband goods by the French Customs' officers, they took up their lodging for a couple of nights. And on the 22nd, the carriage having been successfully put together (to ensure comfortable accommodation Sir Humphry had brought his own with him), the party commenced their tour, reaching Paris, where a stay of three months' length was made, on the 29th. Faraday's observant nature is made evident to us in every page of his journal, and the light, humorous style in which much of it—that part which admits of such treatment—is written, gives evidence of the abiding cheerfulness of his disposition.

On the road to Paris there was a temporary stoppage, owing to the breaking of one of the horses' traces. While the accident was being repaired by the postillion, Faraday found, to his great delight, a glow-worm, the first that he had seen, and which gave him much food for reflection. So great an impression did the first sight of the luminous little grub make on him, that, writing to his mother six months afterwards, and enumerating some of the more important things he had seen in his travels, he says, "I have seen a GLOW-WORM!"

In Paris Davy stayed some three months, and Faraday records the great disadvantage under which he laboured through not knowing the French language. Despite this, however, he attended lectures with Davy, and accompanied him on visits to the laboratories of the various French chemists of the day, among others to that of Chevreul, who was even then (he was three years older than Faraday) well known as one of the rising chemists of the day.[5] It was well for Davy, and his assistant too, perhaps, that the Paris authorities did not read the entries which the young Englishman "with a round chin, a brown beard, a large mouth, and a great nose,"[6] made in his journal, for he records as follows a visit which he paid to the Galerie Napoléon:—"It is," he wrote, "both the glory and the disgrace of France. As being itself, and as containing specimens of those things which proclaim the power of man, and which point out the high degree of refinement to which he has risen, it is unsurpassed, unequalled, and must call forth the highest and most unqualified admiration; but when memory brings to mind the manner in which the works came here, and views them only as the gains of violence and rapine, she blushes for the people that even now glory in an act that made them a nation of thieves."[7]

Although he thus discoursed in his journal about what he saw and thought, he did not by any means neglect his favourite science, and his journal during the stay in Paris contains frequent reference to the experiments which Sir Humphry was carrying on with a new substance which had been discovered a short while before by a French chemist—M. Courtois. This substance, now known as iodine, was the source of much interesting research. Not only about the time of its discovery, but during the whole of the century it has afforded scope to chemists for much speculation and useful experiment.

The race-prejudice, which early in the present century affected English opinion of all things French, is to be traced even in Faraday, who, with all his fairness and open-mindedness, seems always congratulating himself on not belonging to the people among whom he finds himself. This insular spirit finds expression in such passages as the following, which he wrote after staying indoors all day with nothing better to do than to note the difference between the rooms in Paris and those he was accustomed to in England. He sums his views up thus:—"French apartments are magnificent, English apartments are comfortable; French apartments are highly ornamented, English apartments are clean; French apartments are to be seen, English apartments enjoyed; and the style of each kind best suits the people of the respective countries."

TORPEDO FISH.

From Paris the small party—which consisted of Sir Humphry and Lady Davy and Faraday, whose nominal position was that of "assistant in chemistry and experiments"—went south to Montpelier, near the coast of the Mediterranean and some seventy-five miles from Marseilles. After about six weeks' stay they again started on their travels; and after a cold and adventurous journey across the Alps, reached Turin on February 22nd, at the close of the Carnival. From Turin they went to Genoa—where Faraday was much interested in several water-spouts which he saw in the bay—and then on to Florence. Various experiments were made by Davy at each place, on iodine, on the electricity of the torpedo fish, etc.; while at each place Faraday found some opportunity of helping to satisfy his craving for improvement. Of the stay at Florence the journal gives but little account other than of Davy's experiment to find out of what a diamond is composed, and of the various attempts which were made with the assistance of the "Duke's burning glass" to burn diamond. After noting these experiments, Faraday concludes: "As yet it appears that the diamond is pure carbon."

From Rome, which was the next halting-place on their travels, Michael wrote home to his mother a long letter, every line of which breathes a spirit of true affection. "I trust that you are well in health and spirits, and that all things have gone right since I left you.... Mr. Riebau and fifty other friends would be inquired after, could I but have an answer. You must consider this letter as a kind of general one, addressed to that knot of friends who are twined round my heart; and I trust that you will let them all know that, though distant, I do not forget them, and that it is not from want of regard that I do not write to each singly, but from want of convenience and propriety; indeed, it appears to me that there is more danger of my being forgot than of my forgetting. The first and last thing in my mind is England, home, and friends. It is the point to which my thoughts still ultimately tend, and the goal to which, looking over intermediate things, my eyes are still directed. But, on the contrary, in London you are all together, your circle being little or nothing diminished by my absence; the small void which was formed on my departure would soon be worn out, and, pleased and happy with one another, you will seldom think of me. Such are sometimes my thoughts, but such do not rest with me; an innate feeling tells me that I shall not be forgot, and that I still possess the hearts and love of my mother, my brother, my sisters, and my friends.... Whenever a vacant hour occurs I employ it by thinking on those at home. In short, when sick, when cold, when tired, the thoughts of those at home are a warm and refreshing balm to my heart. Let those who think such thoughts useless, vain, and paltry, think so still; I envy them not their more refined and more estranged feelings: let them look about the world, unencumbered by such ties and heartstrings, and let them laugh at those who, guided more by nature, cherish such feelings. For me, I still will cherish them, in opposition to the dictates of modern refinement, as the first and greatest sweetness in the life of man."

It is in his letters such as this that we get to understand Faraday, and to appreciate how it was that his friends, members of his family, nay, even persons who casually met him, were always struck by the simplicity and lovableness of the man. Altogether, Michael got much pleasure, and a great deal of experience, both of life and of science, during his Continental tour, although it was not a source of unmixed delight. His engagement was to accompany Davy in the capacity of secretarial and scientific assistant, but some work certainly not included under that head fell to him owing to Sir Humphry's valet not accompanying the party at the last moment. Had he been with Davy alone this would have been of little matter, for Davy was a kind and considerate man, and would have dispensed with a servant's attendance, and have recognised in Faraday the scientific assistant only; but—unfortunately for Michael—Lady Davy, as has been mentioned, accompanied her husband, and she was not so considerate; and, in consequence, Faraday was treated at times almost as a servant. This, occasionally, was very trying to him; but Michael was too much of a philosopher to give in because circumstances were not as he could wish, and he wrote to his friend Abbott, that though he had to sacrifice much, "the glorious opportunity he enjoyed of improving in the knowledge of chemistry and the sciences continually determined him to finish the voyage with Sir Humphry Davy." A decision of this nature is characteristic of Faraday at all times: he rarely started any work without having carefully considered it; but, having started it, he was not one to take his hand from the plough before the furrow was completed.

This quality is well illustrated in a story which is told of Faraday when he had become a well-known chemist. He was arranging some apparatus with a scientific instrument maker, when a small piece of glass fell to the ground; Faraday made several unsuccessful efforts to pick it up, when his companion said that it was not worth troubling over. "Perhaps not," said Faraday; "but I do not like to fail in accomplishing anything that I have attempted."

The months of May and June were spent by the small party mostly in Italy—first in Rome, then Naples, and afterwards travelling from place to place. At Naples a stay of some days was made, and Faraday's journal gives us an interesting account of two visits to Mount Vesuvius. On the second day the party, largely increased by other visitors, had a picnic on the Mount. "Cloths were laid on the smoking lava, and bread, chickens, turkey, cheese, wine and water, and eggs roasted on the mountain, brought forth, and a species of dinner taken at this place. Torches were now lighted, and the whole had a singular appearance; and the surrounding lazzaroni assisted not a little in adding to the picturesque effect of the scene. After having eaten and drunk, Old England was toasted, and 'God save the king!' and 'Rule, Britannia' sung; and two very entertaining Russian songs by a gentleman, a native of that country, the music of which was peculiar and very touching."

NAPLES AND MOUNT VESUVIUS.

From Naples the journey is continued up north through all the magnificent scenery of Italy; the journal giving us occasionally delightful word-pictures of the landscape, and recording the young traveller's observations on various natural phenomena. Now, as we have seen, glowworms attract his attention, then waterspouts, and the magnificent spectacle presented by Vesuvius; and again his attention is occupied with the beautiful fire-flies that appeared "in innumerable quantities; at a distance they covered the side of the mountain, and near us they passed over the fields, hovered on the edge or crossed the road, often attaching themselves to the harness, and emitting their bright and harmless flashes of light in a rapid and beautiful manner."

In July our party found themselves settled in Geneva, where some three months were passed very enjoyably in congenial society. Davy was the guest of the elder De la Rive, with whom he experimented in chemistry, and with whom, they both being ardent sportsmen, he went out fishing and shooting. "On these occasions," says Professor Tyndall, "Faraday charged Davy's gun, while De la Rive charged his own. Once the Genevese philosopher found himself by the side of Faraday, and in his frank and genial way entered into conversation with the young man. It was evident that a person possessing such a charm of manner and such high intelligence could be no mere servant. On inquiry De la Rive was somewhat shocked to find that the soi-disant domestique was really preparateur in the laboratory of the Royal Institution; and he immediately proposed that Faraday thenceforth should join the masters instead of the servants at their meals. To this Davy, probably out of weak deference to his wife, objected; but an arrangement was come to that Faraday thenceforward should have his food in his own room."

For reasons such as these we can well understand that Faraday's life during his Continental journeying was not altogether as pleasant as he had anticipated it would be. In his letters his reserve on this matter is marvellous, for it is only twice, and in writing to his intimate friend, Abbott, that he refers at all to his, at times, uncomfortable situation, and then it is to give point to what he has been saying in reply to his friend's complaint as to the sordid and unintellectual surroundings amid which he is compelled to live. In his journals also Faraday's reticence with regard to those with whom he travelled is noticeable; he wrote impressions of what he saw, and of what he thought that was worth record, and this was done merely for his own future use and pleasure—he would never wish to recall any petty humiliations which circumstances compelled him to suffer, and they were very properly allowed to pass unrecorded. Indeed, in the note quoted above, particulars of which were given Professor Tyndall by M. De la Rive, we learn more of the discomforts of his post than Faraday himself ever allowed to escape. It is indeed a great pity for his own good fame that Davy should have allowed a "weak deference to his wife" to influence him in such a matter, as it was a great pity when a few years later he allowed a petty spirit of jealousy to make him oppose the election of Faraday as a Fellow of the Royal Society.

From Geneva many letters were written home to his mother and friends. This is characteristic: "Here, dear mother, all goes well. I am in perfect health, and almost contented, except with my ignorance, which becomes more visible to me every day, though I endeavour as much as possible to remedy it." It is strange how different we find the Faraday of the letters and the Faraday of the journal. In the first case the cheerful kindliness, the affectionate, sympathetic side of the man's nature at once strikes us; while in the journal the clear and simple description, uncoloured by personal feeling or prejudice, is no less remarkable.

The three months' stay at Geneva at an end, the small party, bidding farewell to their hospitable and kindly host, De la Rive, turned south again. In De la Rive, Michael, by his intelligence, his scientific enthusiasm, and his unassuming cheerful disposition had won a life-long friend. The route south may well be described briefly in Michael's own words, from a letter to his mother written early in November at Rome: "On leaving Geneva we entered Switzerland, and traversed that mountainous and extraordinary country with health and fine weather, and were much diverted with the curious dresses and customs of the country.... From Switzerland we passed through the States of Baden, on the Lake of Constance (they are very small), across an arm of the kingdom of Wurtemburg, and into Bavaria. In this route we had seen, though slightly, Lausanne, Vevey, Zurich, Schaffhausen and the falls of the Rhine, in Switzerland, and Munich, and many other towns in Germany. On leaving Munich we proceeded to and across the Tyrol, and got to Padua, and from Padua to Venice. You will remember very well, I have no doubt, the picture which hung in the parlour over the fireplace, and which represented the Rialto and the Great Canal of this town. The first I have had the pleasure of crossing several times, and the second I have partly traversed in a Venetian gondola.... After seeing Venice for three days we left it, and came towards Italy, passing Bologna and Florence."

Before reaching Florence the two philosophers went out of their way to inquire into a phenomenon at Pietra Mala which was much talked about. From certain tracts of ground in the neighbourhood sheets of flame of various sizes were said to burst out; the fire was said to burn anything combustible, although the ground where the flames were was not even heated; locally, it was said to be the remains of an ancient volcano. "Though it was raining hard, yet that would not deter Sir Humphry from visiting those places; but, at the same time, it made us wish to be as quick as possible. Sir Humphry therefore went to the first place, and I went to the Acqua bollenti, conducted by a man of the village, who carried some fire, some straw, and some water. I found the place in a cultivated field, not far from a mountain, apparently of limestone. It was simply a puddle perhaps formed by the present showers of rain. Much gas rose from the earth, and passed through the water, which made it appear boiling, and had given rise to its name; but the water and the ground were quite cold. I made another puddle with the water we brought, near the one I found there, and I saw that the gas rose up through it also; and it appeared to be continually passing off from a surface of more than eighteen inches in diameter. The soil appeared deep, and close to the spot supported vegetation readily. The man inflamed some straw, and then laid it on the ground; immediately the gas inflamed, and the flame spread to some distance from the straw over the surface of the earth, waving about like the flame of weak spirits of wine; this flame burnt some moments. On putting a light to the bubbles which rose through the water they inflamed, and sometimes a flame ran quickly from them over the whole surface of the water. I filled a bottle with the gas, but I could not distinguish any smell in it. In pouring water into the bottle, and lighting the jet of gas that came out, a large clear flame was obtained. The whole of this flame was a very pale blue, like spirits of wine. It inflamed paper and matches readily, as might be expected; and when I held a dry bottle or knife over it, they appeared to become dim by condensing water: but this was uncertain, as the weather was so rainy. The water had no taste, and appeared pure rain water. I brought some of it and the gas away, and returned to the village." In the "almost deserted laboratory of the Florence Academy" experiments with the Pietra Mala gas convinced Davy that it was "light hydrocarburet, pure."

The second stay in Rome extended over nearly four months, during which time the grand Carnival took place. Faraday had at this part of his tour a great deal of his time to himself, and earnestly devoted himself to continuing the study of the French and Italian languages, on which indeed he had been working all the while he had been away from home. But he also continued his observations on men and manners, for during the Carnival week he twice attended masked balls in a domino, besides being present at the horse-races on the Corso, and at other of the events of the Carnival. He was, however, anxious to be on his way home to England, and his letters occasionally show how sad he felt at not knowing how soon the return would be.

It was, however, to be earlier than he anticipated. On January 25th, 1815, he wrote to Abbott: "Now for news! We shall part in a few weeks (pray write quickly) for Naples, and from thence proceed immediately to Sicily. Afterwards our road is doubtful; but this much I know, that application is made for passports to travel in the Turkish Empire, and to reside in Constantinople; that it is Sir Humphry's intention to be among the Greek islands in March, and at Athens early in the spring.... Adieu, dear friend. With you I have no ceremony. The warmest wishes that friendship can dictate are formed for you by M. Faraday." Thus had he written towards the end of January—within three months he was to be shaking hands with his friend at home!

While on the road to Naples, Faraday heard of the escape of Napoleon from Elba on March 7th, and records it thus briefly in his journal: "Tuesday, March 7th.—I heard for news that Bonaparte was again at liberty. Being no politician, I did not trouble myself about it, though I suppose it will have a strong influence on the affairs of Europe." It is strange how quietly Davy and his "assistant" passed through Europe at a time when war was convulsing nearly the whole of it; quietly and apparently unconcernedly they went their way, seeing who and what was to be seen at the various stopping-places, prosecuting their researches in different branches of chemistry, and adding in many ways to their stores of knowledge, seemingly unaffected by

"The time that tried men's souls."

At Naples Faraday again ascended Vesuvius, and on this occasion had the grand experience of seeing it in active eruption. He writes a full and graphic account in the journal, from which one passage, descriptive of the eruption itself, may well be quoted. This time Faraday had ascended with a guide only, Sir Humphry having stayed part way up the mountain to see Monte Somma. "I saw a large shower of red-hot stones in the air," writes Faraday, "and felt the strong workings of the mountain; but my care was now to get to the crater, and that was soon done. Here the scene surpassed everything. Before me was the crater, like a deep gulf, appearing bottomless from the smoke that rose from below. On the right hand this smoke ascended in enormous wreaths, rolling above us into all forms; on the left hand the crater was clear, except where the fire burst out from the side with violence, its product rising and increasing the volume of volatile matter already raised in the air. The ground was in continual motion, and the explosions were continual, but at times more powerful shocks and noises occurred; then might be seen rising high in the air numbers of red-hot stones and pieces of lava, which at times came so near as to threaten us with a blow. The appearance of the lava was at once sufficient to satisfy one of its pasty form. It rose in the air in lumps of various size, from 1/2 lb. to 25 lb. or more. The form was irregular, but generally long, like splashes of thick mud; a piece would often split into two or more pieces in the air. They were red-hot, and, when they fell down, continued glowing for five, ten, or fifteen minutes.... I was there during one explosion of very great force, when the ground shook as with a strong earthquake, and the shower of lava and of stones ascended to a very great height, and at this moment the smoke increased much in quantity. The guide now said this place was not safe, from its exposed situation to the melted lava and to the smoke, and because it oftentimes happens that a portion of the edge of the crater is shaken down into the gulf below. We therefore retreated a little, and then sat down, listened, and looked."

We have seen from the letter to Abbott at the end of January that a somewhat lengthened tour had been planned out. On March the 21st Faraday's journal says, "We left Naples at five o'clock." From that time the return was rapid. At Rome there was some delay owing to the lack of post-horses; the French troops under Murat were advancing, and everybody was leaving the city; the Pope had fled, and the cardinals were flying. After a delay of a couple of days carriage-horses were hired at a great expense, and the travellers proceeded on their homeward flight. At Mantua delay again occurred, as the passports had to be "signed, re-signed, and countersigned." "At last," says Faraday, "we saw the outside of the town, having, much against our will, remained two hours and a-half in it."

Faraday's last letter home is written from Brussels on April 16th; it is to his mother, and is well worth reading: "My very dear Mother,—It is with no small pleasure I write you my last letter from a foreign country, and I hope it will be with as much pleasure you will hear I am within three days of England. Nay more, before you read this letter I hope to tread on British ground.... I am not acquainted with the reason of our sudden return; it is, however, sufficient for me that it has taken place. We left Naples very hastily, perhaps because of the motions of the Neapolitan troops, and perhaps for private reasons. We came rapidly to Rome, we as rapidly left it. We ran up Italy, we crossed the Tyrol, we stepped over Germany, we entered Holland, and we are now at Brussels, and talk of leaving it to-morrow for Ostend; at Ostend we embark, and at Deal we land on a spot of earth which I will never leave again. You may be sure we shall not creep from Deal to London, and I am sure I shall not creep to 18, Weymouth Street; and then—but it is of no use. I have a thousand times endeavoured to fancy a meeting with you and my relations and friends, and I am sure I have as often failed: the reality must be a pleasure not to be imagined or described.... You may be sure that my first moment will be in your company. If you have opportunities, tell some of my dearest friends, but do not tell everybody—that is, do not trouble yourself to do it.... My thoughts wander from one to another, my pen runs on by fits and starts; I do not know what to say, and yet cannot put an end to my letter. I would fain be talking to you, but must cease. Adieu till I see you, dearest mother; and believe me ever your affectionate and dutiful son,

"M. Faraday."

"'Tis the shortest and (to me) the sweetest letter I ever wrote you."

Thus ended Faraday's wanderings—

"But who may tell

What forms he brought away,

To stand reveal'd at mem'ry's spell,

And glad some distant day!"

He returned home better equipped for continuing the work of chemical research, for which he had so intense a liking, with his stores of knowledge vastly increased, and his energy and application not one whit abated. How he again took up the thread of his work must be told in another chapter.

CHAPTER IV.
Back at Work.

"A choice that from the passions of the world

Withdrew, and fixed me in a still retreat;

Sheltered, but not to social duties lost,

Secluded, but not buried; and with song

Cheering my days, and with industrious thought;

With the ever-welcome company of books;

With virtuous friendship's soul-sustaining aid,

And with the blessings of domestic love."

Wordsworth.

His friends and relations having had due attentions from him, Faraday at once began to cast about for work. On going abroad with Davy he had relinquished his position at the Royal Institution, though Sir Humphry had promised to befriend him on their return; this promise was, much to Faraday's gratification, duly fulfilled. Within a fortnight of his return Michael found himself re-engaged at the Institution in the capacity of "assistant in the laboratory and mineralogical collection, and superintendent of the apparatus," a high-sounding office that carried with it the none too substantial honorarium of thirty shillings a week, and, as before, rooms in the building. It was, however, a distinct rise, both in position and in wage, and Faraday, we may be sure, was pleased to get back to his well-loved Institution on such terms.

A life spent in scientific research is, generally, an apparently uneventful one. Faraday's life, far from being an exception to this rule, was rather an accentuation of it. The story of his life is indeed highly interesting; but its interest lies in it, not as a story of action and change, but as a life that may be said to have realised almost wholly the ideal which was set before it. From the very first moment when Faraday gave expression to his hate for trade and his love for science, his whole life was a practical illustration of his feelings; as we shall find on following him through his great and honourable career, there were many occasions on which he refused not only titles and such like honours, but pecuniary benefits which might fairly be considered his dues—no, "his work was wrought for love and not for gain," as the line which I have placed on the title page of this little book so well expresses it.

The tour on the Continent, as has been noted, was the most striking episode in Faraday's long life. From May 7th, 1815 (the date on which he rejoined the Institution), onwards, his life was a time of steady intellectual growth, spent in chemical research, in the explaining of phenomena, and in what is by no means his least claim on our regard, the popularisation of scientific knowledge. We have seen in his early correspondence with Benjamin Abbott how, on his very earliest acquaintance with lecturing and lectures at the Royal Institution, he began to study the different styles of the various lecturers, to note their peculiarities, and in what lay the secret of their success; we have seen, too, how he was striving to improve himself in composition—in the clear and intelligent method of stating things. He was preparing himself betimes for what he felt to be part of his true vocation; how eminently successful—beyond his wildest imaginings—he was, will be seen as we follow his life-story year by year.

THE DAVY SAFETY LAMP.

It was, as Faraday frequently acknowledged, his good fortune to assist Sir Humphry Davy in his experiments not only while abroad, but after their home-coming. One of the most important of all Davy's discoveries was made in the year of their return. On August 3rd he acknowledged a letter which he had received from Dr. Gray, directing his attention to the awful destruction of human life by explosions in coal mines. On October 31st, Davy announced to his correspondent that he had discovered a "safety lamp;" on November 2nd he read a paper on fire-damp before the Royal Society, and on December 14th submitted to Dr. Gray models of lamps and lanterns made on the principle of his discovery, "that fire-damp will not explode in tubes or feeders of a certain small diameter." In his experiments, in connection with this discovery, Davy received considerable help from his laboratory assistant, who must have been much gratified by that passage in Davy's paper on the "safety lamp," in which the great discoverer expressed himself as "indebted to Mr. Michael Faraday for much able assistance." This was "Mr. Michael Faraday's" first public recognition, and must have been very delightful to him, especially coming as it did from the man of all others for whom, in his scientific capacity, Michael had the most profound admiration.

Davy gained, as is well known, much honour and no inconsiderable amount of money for his discovery. There are, however, circumstances in which the safety lamp is not safe; Faraday, and, it is to be presumed, Davy himself, was aware of this. It is illustrative of Faraday's stern regard for truth that, although he was at the time Davy's own assistant, he did not, and would not, attest before a parliamentary committee to the universal safety of the Davy lamp.

Early in 1816 we find Faraday beginning to put into practice those ideas on lectures and lecturing which he had so carefully considered before. On the point of giving his first lecture, though, he seems to doubt himself, and in a letter to Abbott occurs the following passage—"I intend making some experiments on that subject (lecturing) soon; I will defer it (his letter on lecturing) till after such experiments are made. In the meantime, as preparatory and introductory to such a course of experiments, I will ask your opinion of, and observations on, English composition—style, delivery, reading, oratory, grammar, pronunciation, perspicuity, and in general all the branches into which the belles lettres divide themselves; and if by asking I procure, I shall congratulate myself on the acquisition of much useful knowledge and experience."

The first lecture—on the "General Properties of Matter"—was duly and successfully delivered before the City Philosophical Society on January 17th. Before trusting himself to go upon the platform, Faraday carefully wrote out his lecture, word for word, as it was to be delivered; a plan which he followed in the case of each of the other six lectures which he gave before the same Society during the year. These lectures I have had the pleasure of seeing, as they are neatly written out and bound by their author. They are, with many similar treasures, in the possession of Miss Jane Barnard, a niece of Faraday.

This year was an important one in several ways; not only did Faraday give his first lecture, but also his first printed paper appeared in the Quarterly Journal of Science, which was edited by Mr. Brande, who succeeded Sir Humphry as chief of the Royal Institution. The paper was on an analysis of native caustic lime, which had been undertaken at Davy's instigation. That his scientific friends and patrons were beginning to recognise something out of the common in their laboratory assistant is shown in various ways, notably by such a passage as the following, taken from Faraday's note-book: "When Mr. Brande left London in August, he gave the Quarterly Journal in charge to me; it has had very much of my time and care, and writing, through it, has been more abundant with me. It has, however, also been the means of giving me earlier information on some new objects of science."

Faraday's common-place book—a kind of continuation of his Philosophical Miscellany of six years earlier—gives us a good deal of information as to his intellectual progress at this time; it shows us not only what scientific subjects were interesting him, but also how zealously he was continuing his study of composition and the mode of expressing what he had to say clearly and definitely. There are passages from the Spectator, alongside of tests with arsenic, a description of a visit to a silk-ribbon dresser's, along with an account of Zerah Colburn, the American calculating boy. Sir Humphry Davy wrote to Faraday, saying, "Mr. Colburn, the father of the American boy who has such extraordinary powers of calculation, will explain to you the method his son uses in confidence. I wish to ascertain if it can be practically used."

It has been remarked of Faraday that his was a poet-nature expressing itself through science; and this estimate seems largely true, but the verses which he wrote in his common-place book, "On Love," if they be his own composition, are extremely poor; there are other verses though which will merit quotation. They are written by Mr. Dryden, a fellow-member of the City Philosophical Society, and are entitled "Quarterly Night," October 2nd, 1816, being descriptive of one of the periodical gatherings of the Society. The following passage is of especial interest to us, as it shows how Faraday impressed a young contemporary:—

"But hark! A voice arises near the chair!

Its liquid sounds glide smoothly through the air;

The listening Muse with rapture bends to view

The place of speaking and the speaker too.

Neat was the youth in dress, in person plain;

His eye read thus, Philosopher-in-grain;

Of understanding clear, reflection deep;

Expert to apprehend, and strong to keep.

His watchful mind no subject can elude,

Nor specious arts of sophist e'er delude;

His powers, unshackled, range from pole to pole;

His mind from error free, from guilt his soul.

Warmth in his heart, good humour in his face,

A friend to mirth, but foe to vile grimace;

A temper candid, manner unassuming,

Always correct, yet always unpresuming.

Such was the youth, the chief of all the band;

His name well known, Sir Humphry's right hand.

With manly ease towards the chair he bends,

With Watts' logic at his finger-ends,

'I rise (but shall not on the theme enlarge)

To show my approbation of this charge:

If proved it be, the censure should be passed

Or this offence be neither worst nor last.

A precedent will stand from year to year,

And 'tis the usual practice we shall hear.

Extreme severity 'tis right to shun,

For who could stand were justice only done?

And yet experience does most clearly show

Extreme indulgence oft engenders woe.

In striving then to hit the golden mean—

To knowledge, prudence, wisdom, virtue seen—

Let Isaac then be censured, not in spite

But merely to evince our love of right.

Truth, order, justice, cannot be preserved

Unless the laws which rule us are observed.

I for the principle alone contend,

Would lash the crime, but make the man my friend.'"

Faraday's progress during these first few years after his reinstatement at the Royal Institution was rapid: his lectures to the City Philosophical Society, his published papers, and his letters, all give evidence of it. In 1817, as in the previous year, he delivered six lectures before the Society. It is interesting to find that instead of being written out word for word, the lectures were now delivered from notes, showing how the young lecturer was becoming so assured of his own command of language as to make the earlier method no longer necessary. His common-place book for this year continues to show a wide range of reading and thoughtfulness. In the summer, when the lectures at the Institution had ceased for the recess, Faraday availed himself of an invitation from his friend Huxtable, who was living at South Moulton, and spent a month holiday-making in Devonshire. His early impressions of that county, when he passed through it with Davy on their way to the Continent, must have made him especially delighted to visit it once more; more particularly as he had an opportunity on this occasion of making geological excursions and of studying "wavellite, hydrargellite, and such hard things." A letter which he wrote from Barnstaple to his mother during this holiday is interesting, referring as it does to those country occupations amid which she, in her girlhood, passed her time:—"I have seen a great deal of country life since I left town, and am highly pleased with it, though I should by no means be contented to live away from town. I have been at sheep-shearings, merry-makings, junketings, etc., and was never more merry; and I must say of the country people (of Devonshire, at least) that they are the most hospitable I could imagine. I have seen all your processes of threshing, winnowing, cheese and butter-making, and think I could now give you some instruction, but all I have to say to you on these subjects shall be said verbally."

Each year of his life at this period Faraday found himself becoming busier than the previous one. Another five chemical lectures (on the metals, well known and little known) were given before the City Philosophical Society during 1818, completing a course, extending over three years, of seventeen lectures on the chemical science, no mean accomplishment for a young man from twenty-three to twenty-six years of age. So much was his time now becoming occupied that we find a great falling-off in his letters this year, a falling-off not only in number, but also in length. The correspondence with Abbott, commenced six years earlier, practically comes to an end in 1818; there was not, it is necessary to mention, the slightest abatement in the warmth of affection of the two friends; it was that, to a great extent, perhaps, the correspondence had done its work, and what is undoubtedly the more powerful reason, our young scientist was beginning to find his time so well occupied with his favourite work that he could not devote enough of it to the writing of long letters. Abbott was yet, and always, sure of the heartiest hand-shake and the most unaffected welcome from one who to the end of his life was the staunchest of friends.

On July 1st, 1818, Faraday read a highly interesting paper before the members of the City Philosophical Society, on "Observations on the Inertia of the Mind," in which he drew, in an able manner, an analogy between a state of the mind and what in the physical world is known as the inertia of matter. It may be of interest to note a few passages from this lecture to illustrate the thoughtfulness and thoroughness of Faraday's work at this time, and also to give an example of his early style as a lecturer.

"Unlike the animated world around him, which remains in the same constant state, man is continually varying, and it is one of the noblest prerogatives of his nature, that in the highest of earthly distinctions he has the power of raising and exalting himself continually. The transition state of man has been held up to him as a memento of his weakness; to man degraded it may be so with justice; to man as he ought to be it is no reproach; and in knowledge that man only is to be contemned and despised who is not in a state of transition....

"By advancement on the plain of life, I mean advancement in those things which distinguish men from beasts—sentient advancement. It is not he who has soared above his fellow-creatures in power, it is not he who can command most readily the pampering couch or the costly luxury; but it is he who has done most good to his fellows, he who has directed them in the doubtful moment, strengthened them in the weak moment, aided them in the moment of necessity, and enlightened them in their ignorance, that leads the ranks of mankind....

"There is a power in natural philosophy, of an influence universal, and yet withal so obscure, in its nature so unobtrusive, that for many ages no idea of it existed. It is called inertia. It tends to retain every body in its present state, and seems like the spirit of constancy impressed upon matter. Whatever is in motion is by it retained in motion, and whatever is at rest remains at rest under its sway. It opposes every new influence, strengthens every old one. Is there nothing in the human mind which seems analogous to this power?...

"Inertia is an essential property of matter; is it a never-failing attendant on the mind? I hope it is; for as it seems to be in full force whenever the mind is passive, I trust it is also in power when she is actively engaged. Was the idle mind ever yet pleased to be placed in activity? Was the dolt ever willing to resign inanity for perception? Or are they not always found contented to remain as if they were satisfied with their situation? They are like the shepherd Magnus: although on a barren rock, their efforts to remove are irksome and unpleasant; and they seem chained to the spot by a power over which they have no control, of which they have no perception. Again: in activity, what intellectual being would resign his employment? Who would be content to forego the pleasures hourly crowding upon him? Each new thought, perception, or judgment is a sufficient reward in itself for his past labours, and all the future is pure enjoyment. There is a labour in thought, but none who have once engaged in it would willingly resign it. Intermissions I speak not of; 'tis the general habit and tenor of the mind that concerns us, and that which has once been made to taste the pleasures of its own voluntary exertions will not by a slight cause be made to forego them.

"Inertia, as it regards matter, is a term sufficiently well understood both in a state of rest and of motion. As it is not my intention to attempt a description of functions of the mind according to strict mathematical terms, I shall resign the exclusive use of the word at present, and adopt two others, which, according to the sense they have acquired from usage, will, I believe, supply its place with accuracy. Apathy will represent the inertia of a passive mind; industry that of an active mind.

"It is curious to consider how we qualify ideas essentially the same, according to the words made use of to represent them. I might talk of mental inertia for a long time without attaching either blame or praise to it—without the chance even of doing so; but mention apathy and industry, and the mind simultaneously censures the one and commends the other. Yet the things are the same, both idleness and industry are habits, and habits result from inertia....

"Inertia has a sway as absolute in natural philosophy over moving bodies as over those at rest. It therefore does not retard motion or change, but is as frequently active in continuing that state as in opposing it. Now, is this the case with mental inertia?"

These passages from Faraday's early lectures serve to show us not only how he was attaining the art of expressing himself clearly, but how thoroughly he went into a subject on which he had once entered. It is not possible to follow in detail the work on which Faraday was engaged. We have seen him learning assiduously, and essaying to teach in the friendly circle of the Philosophical Society. His work during the next few years continued on very similar lines to those which we have been regarding. Year by year, about this time, his scientific writing increased—his work was increasing, his friends were increasing—he was beginning to be "somebody," though as yet but in a small world. He had commenced a correspondence with Professor G. de la Rive—the gentleman who at Geneva had been so struck by him when he was acting as Davy's travelling factotum—a correspondence which on the death of De la Rive was continued with his son, Professor Auguste de la Rive.

In 1821 Faraday married. Before, however, we treat of this important step in his life, let us glance at the journal which he kept of a walking tour he took in Wales during the summer of 1819. This journal gives us further evidence of the genuine enjoyment which he found in scenery and nature in her wilder and more impressive aspects; it also gives further evidence of his simple yet direct way of describing things, of that true descriptive power of which his Continental journal was often a good illustration. At five o'clock in the morning of July 10th, he mounted the top of the Regulator coach at the White Horse Cellar, Piccadilly, and at ten o'clock of the same evening was set down at Bristol. Not at all a bad coach-ride for one day's journey. He afterwards visited Cardiff, and went over the Dowlais Ironworks at Merthyr; thence he and his companion wandered about at their own sweet will, unconfined by any artificial circumstances. They walked in that manner which adds so great a charm to a walking tour, never knowing one day whither they should bend their way on the next. The following is a delightful bit descriptive of a visit to the Fall of Scwd-yv-hên-rhyd, or Glentaree, formed by the descent of the River Hên-rhyd.

"Monday, 19th.—Proceeding onward into Brecknockshire, we suddenly heard the roar of water where we least expected it, and came on the edge of a deep and woody dell. Entering among the trees, we scrambled onwards after our guide, tumbling and slipping, and jumping, and swinging down the steep sides of the dingle, sometimes in the path of a running torrent, sometimes in the projecting fragments of slate, and sometimes where no path or way at all was visible. The thorns opposed our passage, the boughs dashed the drops in our faces, and stones frequently slipped from beneath our feet into the chasm below, in places where the view fell uninterrupted by the perpendicular sides of the precipices. By the time we had reached the bottom of the dingle, our boots were completely soaked, and so slippery that no reliance could be placed on steps taken in them. We managed, however, very well, and were amply rewarded by the beauty of the fall which now came in view. Before us was a chasm enclosed by high perpendicular and water-worn rocks of slate, from the sides of which sprang a luxuriant vegetation of trees, bushes, and plants. In its bosom was a basin of water, into which fell from above a stream divided into minute drops from the resistance of its deep fall. Here and there lay trunks of trees which had been brought down by the torrent—striking marks of its power—and the rugged bed of shingles and rocky masses further heightened the idea other objects were calculated to give of the force it possessed when swelled by rains. We stepped across the river on a few tottering and slippery stones placed in its bed, and passing beneath the overhanging masses ran round on projecting points, until between the sheet of water and the rock over which it descended; and there we remained some time admiring the scene. Before us was the path of the torrent, after the fine leap which it made in this place; but the abundance of wood hid it ere it had proceeded many yards from the place where it fell. No path was discernible from hence, and we seemed to be enclosed on a spot from whence there was no exit, and where no cry for help could be heard because of the torrent-roar."

Yet another passage should be quoted from this journal; a passage descriptive of an ascent of Cader Idris during a thunder-storm. A thunder-storm was, all his life long, one of the most moving things to Faraday. It seemed always to quicken him into new life.

CADER IDRIS.

"Sunday, July 26th.—Ascent of Cader Idris. The thunder had gradually become more and more powerful, and now rain descended. The storm had commenced at the western extremity of the valley, and rising up Cader Idris traversed it in its length, and then passing over rapidly to the south-east, deluged the hills with rain. The waters descended in torrents from the very tops of the highest hills in places where they had never yet been observed, and a river which ran behind the house into the lake below rose momentarily, overflowing its banks, and extended many yards over the meadows. The storm then took another direction, passing over our heads to the spot in the west at which it had commenced, and having been very violent in its course, seemed there to be exhausted and to die away. The scene altogether was a very magnificent one—the lightning's vivid flash illuminated those parts which had been darkened by its humid habitation, and the thunder's roar seemed the agonies of the expiring clouds as they dissolved into rain; whilst the mountains in echoes mocked the sounds, and laughed at the fruitless efforts of the elements against them."

The journeying was continued on to Dolgelly and Llangollen; and then back again to London, and to work on in his old indefatigable manner. Sir Humphry Davy was in Italy in 1818-19, investigating the questions with regard to the unrolling of papyri recovered from the ruins of Herculaneum. In February, 1819, he wrote to Faraday saying, "I have sent a report on the state of the MSS. to our Government, with a plan for the undertaking of unrolling; one part of the plan is to employ a chemist for the purpose at Naples; should they consent, I hope I shall have to make a proposition to you on the subject." At the end of the same year Davy again wrote to his protégé in a similar strain, but nothing ever came of it. And delighted as Faraday would doubtless have been to re-visit Italy, he probably would not have undertaken the few months' work at Naples if it had meant, as it would doubtless have done, his severing his connection with the Royal Institution.

A much more important step was about to be taken by Faraday. He had a friend, also a member and elder of the Sandemanian Church, by name Barnard. Mr. Barnard was a silversmith who lived in Paternoster Row, and thither Faraday often went, attracted by the charms of Mr. Barnard's third daughter, Sarah. Faraday was at this time twenty-nine years of age, the lady who was to exercise so great an influence over his life was but twenty, and what is more she did not favour his advances. At last, in July, 1820, he wrote to her, and in a letter characterised by the depth no less than the warmth of his affection, begged at any rate to be heard. Such letters, intended for the eyes of but one person, are, as a rule, and it is well they should be, too sacred to be freely reproduced for all the world to read. The letters have, however, before been printed, and it may assist us in forming a correct picture of Michael Faraday—of the earnest, affectionate nature which was his—to re-peruse a passage such as this:—

"Again and again I attempt to say what I feel, but I cannot. Let me, however, claim not to be that selfish being that wishes to bend your affections for his own sake only. In whatever way I can best minister to your happiness, either by assiduity or by absence, it shall be done. Do not injure me by withdrawing your friendship, or punish me for aiming to be more than a friend by making me less; and if you cannot grant me more, leave me what I possess, but hear me."

Miss Barnard showed the letter from which this passage is quoted to her father, whose reply was merely to the effect that "love made philosophers into fools." Doubtful of her own decision on so momentous a question as this, involving the life-long happiness of two persons, Miss Barnard postponed making an immediate decision by accompanying a married sister to Ramsgate. Faraday made up his mind "to run all risks of a kind reception at Ramsgate." He went there, and after a week of delightful holiday-making, returned to London on August the 7th, having won the consent of her for whom he had evinced so strong a passion. Within twelve months (on June 12th, 1821), Michael Faraday and Sarah Barnard were married, and took up their residence in the Royal Institution. The union proved a perfect one, and a wedded life of nearly half-a-century's duration and of unclouded love was the result. From this time forward the kindliness, the affection, the love of home and of those persons forming "home," which had been earlier so marked in Faraday's letters to his mother, become even yet more marked in the letters written to his wife any time between his marriage and his death. Some of these we shall note as we come to treat of the period in which they were written.

From a drawing by] MRS. MICHAEL FARADAY. [Alexander Blaikley.

The year 1820 was an important one to Faraday for other though less significant reasons: in it his first paper was read before the Royal Society, and he was also engaged with a Mr. Stodart, surgical instrument maker, in experimenting on alloys of steel with a view to improving its quality. For many years after, we are told, Faraday used to present his friends with razors made of a particular alloy discovered at this time. The paper embodying the results of these experiments in alloys was duly published in the Quarterly Journal of Science.

A description of our hero (for hero he was—one of our true "heroes of peace"), written by a friend about the time of his marriage, is interesting as assisting us to realise what manner of man he really was in the flesh. "A young-looking man of about thirty years of age, well made, and neat in his dress, his cheerfulness of disposition often breaking out in a short crisp laugh, but thoughtful enough when something important is to be done."

We find Faraday now a young man of thirty, happily married, with a large circle of friends who are finding in him something of that genius which year by year henceforward was to manifest itself; we find him not only gaining the goodwill of these friends for his talents, but gaining their affectionate regard by his unselfishness and unremitting good nature. After their marriage in June, 1821, Mr. and Mrs. Faraday took up their residence in the Institution, where they continued to live for close upon forty years. Although fortune seemed thus to be smiling upon Michael Faraday it must not be supposed that his position at the Royal Institution was a highly remunerative one, his position was yet nominally that of laboratory assistant, and the return which he received for his services was a salary of one hundred pounds per annum, a suite of rooms, and coal and gas.

One month after his marriage Faraday made his confession of sin and profession of faith before the Sandemanian Church. It is characteristic of his whole attitude towards religion, and the great and serious regard which it demands from every individual, that when his wife asked him why he had not told her what he was about to do, he simply yet earnestly answered, "That is between me and my God." Truth in all things was what he aimed at, and his whole life may be said to be a seeking after truth in the various branches of knowledge; to half know a thing was never sufficient for him, he could not rest there; he must test its truth, and either cast it away, having proved it worthless, or accept it with delight, having proved its truth. This is evidenced in all his life-work, in his social intercourse no less than in his scientific work, in his letters and journals no less than in his lectures and published papers.

A circumstantial account has appeared in some of the newspapers of Faraday's secession from the Sandemanian Church, and his penitent return to it. Not having seen any reference to such a secession in the biographies of Faraday I wrote to Miss Barnard, who in the following note, most emphatically denies the truth of the story:—"Faraday never seceded from the Church of which he became a member early in life (1821). It is true that for a few weeks in 1844 there was a cessation of his communion with this Church, but the reasons for this were absolutely private, and had nothing to do with any conflict in his mind between his faith in the Scriptures and his scientific work. The statement is altogether without foundation, and neither the scene described nor anything like it ever took place.

"10 Aug., 1891.Jane Barnard."

CHAPTER V.
"Science which I Loved."

"If I would strive to bring back times, and try

The world's pure gold, and wise simplicity;

If I would virtue set as she was young,

And hear her speak with one, and her first tongue;

If holiest friendship naked to the touch,

I would restore and keep it ever such;

I need no other arts but study thee,

Who prov'st all these were, and again may be."

Ben Jonson.

The year of Faraday's marriage which, as we have seen in the previous chapter, was also important to him in other ways, was marked by one unpleasant incident which was talked about for some time afterward; but although Faraday was then spoken of in no measured terms, it has been conclusively shown that far from any blame being attached to him, the facts of the case are much to his credit. To put the matter shortly it was this. Dr. Wollaston had an idea as to the possibility of electro-magnetic rotation; he expected, in other words, to be able to demonstrate that the "wire in the voltaic circuit would revolve on its own axis." He was at the Institution one day in the early part of 1821, and was making an experiment in the laboratory with Sir Humphry Davy. Faraday, who was not present during the experiment, came in in time to hear the conversation that followed. He afterwards made various experiments on this subject, and was invited by the editor of the Annals of Philosophy to contribute an historical sketch of electro-magnetism. This sketch appeared in the Annals of the same year; Faraday repeating nearly all of the experiments to which he referred. These experiments of Faraday's led him to the discovery, early in September, of the "rotation of a wire in voltaic current round a magnet, and of a magnet round the wire." He could not make the wire and the magnet revolve on their own axis. "There was not the slightest indication that such was the case."

Before he published the paper descriptive of these "new electro-magnetical motions," Faraday essayed to see Dr. Wollaston that he might get permission to refer to Wollaston's experiments. The doctor was out of town, and the paper was published "by an error of judgment" without any reference to his opinions and intentions. Directly afterwards Faraday was extremely distressed at hearing rumours which "affected his honour and his honesty." He wrote at once, not only to Stodart, but directly to Dr. Wollaston, whom he met, and after mutual explanation the matter dropped. Faraday, however, continued his electro-magnetic experiments. It is one of these that is referred to by his brother-in-law, who was with him one Christmas Day when: "All at once he exclaimed, 'Do you see, do you see, do you see, George?' as the small wire began to revolve. I shall never forget the enthusiasm expressed in his face, and the sparkling in his eyes."

In the summer of 1822 Faraday was at Swansea for a fortnight with Phillips, the editor of the Philosophical Magazine. Before starting, however, he took his wife and her mother down to Ramsgate, whither he addressed to his wife three letters, in which are evident the deep feelings which were his in regard to their relations. The first letter was written on his arrival in town after leaving Ramsgate. After detailing what he has done, he breaks off, "And now, my dear girl, I must set business aside. I am tired of the dull detail of things, and want to talk of love to you; and surely there can be no circumstance under which I can have more right. The theme was a cheerful and delightful one before we were married, but it is doubly so now.... Oh, my dear Sarah, poets may strive to describe and artists to delineate the happiness which is felt by two hearts truly and mutually loving each other; but it is beyond their efforts, and beyond the thoughts and conceptions of anyone who has not felt it. I have felt it and do feel it, but neither I nor any other man can describe it; nor is it necessary. We are happy, and our God has blessed us with a thousand causes why we should be so. Adieu for to-night."

The letters from Swansea give an account of his journey, and of his host's house, of work at the copper furnaces, and other places; of the many people there are at Mr. Vivian's (with whom he was staying), and of the late and long dinner, which he made up his mind to avoid if possible. He stayed out walking one evening, got back after dinner had commenced, and so stole up to his own room that he might write a long letter to his wife, in reply to one which he had received from her. "I could almost rejoice at my absence from you," he wrote, "if it were only that it has produced such an earnest and warm mark of affection from you as that letter. Tears of joy and delight fell from my eyes on its perusal."

Early in the following year Faraday was experimenting on chlorine, a subject that had attracted a great deal of Davy's attention. At Davy's suggestion he enclosed some of the gas in an hermetically sealed glass tube, that he might "work with it under pressure, and see what would happen by heat." What "happened" was that on several occasions the tube exploded, twice doing injury to Faraday's eyes. On one of the occasions when Faraday was at work, Dr. Paris happened to enter the laboratory, and seeing an oily liquid in the tube rallied him on his carelessness in using dirty vessels. When, afterwards, the end of the tube was filed off, there was an explosion, and the oily matter disappeared. Early on the following day Dr. Paris received this note:—

"Dear Sir,—The oil you noticed yesterday turns out to be liquid chlorine.

"Yours faithfully, M. Faraday."

He had in fact succeeded in converting chlorine gas into a liquid by means of its own pressure. This was an important discovery which led to numerous experiments with other gases, and with like results.

On May 1st, 1823, Faraday's certificate as a candidate for fellowship in the Royal Society was read for the first time. Such a distinction was no doubt a coveted one in Faraday's eyes, and it must have been extremely painful to him when he found that Sir Humphry Davy was opposed to his election. It is interesting to observe, however, that the very first signature on his certificate is that of Dr. Wollaston. Such being the case it seems impossible that the old charge against Faraday in regard to electro-magnetic rotation could have been revived, and yet so it was. Wollaston himself had expressed perfect satisfaction, and the matter seemed definitely settled. Much as this revival of an untrue charge must have distressed a man of Faraday's uncompromising integrity, to find Davy, of all men, opposing him must have been yet more distressing. That Davy's opposition was active may be surmised from the following, which is told by Faraday himself: "Sir H. Davy told me I must take down my certificate. I replied that I had not put it up; that I could not take it down, as it was put up by my proposers. He then said I must get my proposers to take it down. I answered that I knew they would not do so. Then he said, I, as President, will take it down. I replied that I was sure Sir H. Davy would do what he thought was for the good of the Royal Society."

This attitude of Davy's naturally pained Faraday exceedingly; many years afterwards some allusion by a friend to his early life led up to a mention of it; Faraday rose abruptly from his seat, and took a rapid walk up and down the room, saying, "Talk of something else, and never let me speak of this again. I wish to remember nothing but Davy's kindness." There were tears in his eyes as he spoke, showing how deeply the man was moved. Faraday also said that Davy had walked for an hour about the courtyard of Somerset House, arguing with one of his proposers that Faraday should not be elected. We know none of the reasons for Davy's opposition, and his attitude in this affair must ever remain a cloud on his fair fame; that he, a self-made man, who had risen to the first position among modern chemists, should oppose at this stage of his career a man somewhat similarly circumstanced, who was also moving upwards step by step to one of the highest positions among modern philosophers, as he loved always to be called, is indeed as strange as it is regrettable. The fact, sad as it is, has to be noted; but we will not dwell upon it; more gratifying is it to learn how, when the ballot was taken, Michael Faraday was almost unanimously elected a Fellow of the Royal Society, there being but one black ball. This, in after years, he proudly mentioned, was the only one among his innumerable honours that he had sought for. Scarce a year passed afterwards but some fresh distinction was conferred upon him.

Early in 1824 John Wilson Croker, with Sir Thomas Lawrence, Sir F. Chantrey, and Sir H. Davy founded the Athenæum Club, which still flourishes. For a short while Faraday acted as honorary secretary to the Club; but his more congenial scientific labours could not be neglected, and he soon retired from the secretaryship, in which he was succeeded by his friend Magrath, who continued to hold the post for many years.

Faraday's notes and papers contributed to the scientific journals and other periodicals were frequent, but it would profit little here to detail them. One discovery he made about this time is well worthy of mention as it has had an important effect on a particular industry—the discovery was that of benzol, benzine, or as Faraday named it, "bicarburet of hydrogen." This is prepared now in large quantities, being employed in the manufacture of aniline colours.

We have it on the authority of Sir Roderick Murchison that Faraday's first lecture at the Royal Institution was delivered in the following circumstances. Brande, who had succeeded Sir Humphry Davy as the Professor of Chemistry, was delivering a course of lectures; one day the lecturer, owing to illness or some other cause, was absent, but his assistant (Faraday) took his place, and lectured with so much ease that he won the complete approval of his audience. In this connection too, it is interesting to note that it was towards the close of this same year that Faraday began his experiments in magnetic electricity, the particular branch of research which was to occupy a great part of his later life, and in which he was destined to make some of his most brilliant discoveries.

THE LABORATORY, ROYAL INSTITUTION.

It is pleasing to find that whatever may have been Davy's object in opposing Faraday's election into the Royal Society, he did not bear him any continued ill-will; this is shown us not only by Davy's expressions of goodwill in his letters, but by such things as an entry in the minutes of a meeting of the managers of the Royal Institution in February, 1825. From this entry we learn that Sir Humphry Davy, "having stated that he considered the talents and services of Mr. Faraday, assistant in the laboratory, entitled to some mark of approbation from the managers, and these sentiments having met the cordial concurrence of the board; Resolved:—That Mr. Faraday be appointed Director of the Laboratory, under the superintendence of the Professor of Chemistry."

It was after receiving this appointment that Faraday occasionally invited members of the Institution to evening meetings in the laboratory, when he generally had something new and interesting to show them. In these meetings in the laboratory was the origin of those regular Friday evening meetings in the theatre, which commenced in 1826, which have had for many years a world-wide reputation, and which have drawn together, week after week and year after year, large numbers of persons interested in science and in its popular exposition. In 1826, the year in which the first regular Friday evening meetings took place, seventeen lectures were delivered, six of them being given by Faraday himself, on such a variety of subjects as "Caoutchouc," "Lithography," "Brunel's Tunnel at Rotherhithe," etc. His aim in inaugurating these "Friday evenings" may be gathered from the scanty notes which he made for introducing one of the earliest of the lectures:—"Evening opportunities—interesting, amusing; instructive also:—scientific research—abstract reasoning, but in a popular way—dignity;—facilitate our object of attracting the world, and making ourselves with science attractive to it."

These notes, slight as they are, give us an idea of what Faraday's objects were, and are at the same time interesting, as they may fairly be said to represent the aim of a large part of his lecturing work throughout his career, the aim that is, which always seemed to be his, to make the subject of which he was speaking amusing, interesting, and instructive. No other man had ever succeeded in attracting the world to science by making the science attractive to them. High as is Faraday's position as a scientist and philosopher, he is also to be remembered with much gratitude as, in point of time as well as of ability, the first of all true popularisers of science. This may not at first sound a very high title to bestow, but yet it is far from an insignificant one, and one that must indeed have gratified Faraday; much as he was pleased with the acknowledgment of himself as one of their peers by such men as Davy, De la Rive, and other scientists, the knowledge that he was interpreting the wonders of Nature to a vast number of persons hitherto ignorant, or in a measure ignorant, of her marvellous ways, was yet more pleasing to him. We can fully understand his echoing the sentiment which the late James Russell Lowell, speaking of the poet, expresses in the following beautiful verses:—

"It may be glorious to write

Thoughts that shall glad the two or three