"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."
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."
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—
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.
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.
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:—
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.
"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.
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."