FRUITS OF HIS EXPERIENCE.
Those who loved Faraday would treasure every word that he wrote, and to
them the life and letters which Bence Jones has given to the world will
be inestimable; but from the multitude who knew him only at a distance,
we can expect no enthusiasm of admiration. Yet all will readily believe
that through the writings of such a genius there must be scattered
nuggets of intellectual gold, even when he is not treating directly of
scientific subjects. Some of these relate to questions of permanent
interest, and such nuggets it is my aim to separate and lay before the
reader.
When quite a young man he drew the following ideal portrait:--"The
philosopher should be a man willing to listen to every suggestion,
but determined to judge for himself. He should not be biassed by
appearances, have no favourite hypothesis, be of no school, and in
doctrine have no master. He should not be a respecter of persons, but
of things. Truth should be his primary object. If to these qualities
be added industry, he may indeed hope to walk within the veil of the
temple of Nature." This ideal he must steadily have kept before
him, and not unfrequently in after days he gave utterance to similar
thoughts. Here are two instances, the first from a lecture thirty
years afterwards, the second from a private letter:--"We may be _sure_
of facts, but our interpretation of facts we should doubt. He is
the wisest philosopher who holds his theory with some doubt; who is
able to proportion his judgment and confidence to the value of the
evidence set before him, taking a fact for a fact, and a supposition
for a supposition; as much as possible keeping his mind free from all
source of prejudice, or, where he cannot do this (as in the case of a
theory), remembering that such a source is there." The letter is to Mr.
Frederick Field, and relates to a paper on the existence of silver in
the water of the ocean.
"ROYAL INSTITUTION, _21st October, 1856_.
"MY DEAR SIR,
"Your paper looks so well, that though I am of course unable to become
security for the facts, I have still thought it my duty to send it
to the Royal Society. Whether it will appear there or not I cannot
say,--no one can say even for his own papers; but for my part, I
think that as facts are the foundation of science, however they may
be interpreted, so they are most valuable, and often more so than the
interpretations founded upon them. I hope your further researches will
confirm those you have obtained: but I would not be too hasty with
them,--rather wait a while, and make them quite secure.
"I am, Sir, your obliged Servant,
"M. FARADAY."
How pleasant it would have been to peep into his mind and watch the
process by which he was transformed into the very image of his ideal
philosopher! He has partially told us the secret in two remarkable
lectures, one of which was delivered before the City Philosophical
Society when he was only twenty-seven years of age, while the other
formed part of a series on Education at Albemarle Street. Copious
extracts from the first are given by Dr. Bence Jones; the second was
published at the time. In the early lecture, which is "On the Forms of
Matter," he points out the advantages and dangers of systematizing, and
winds up his remarks with--
"Nothing is more difficult and requires more care than philosophical
deduction, nor is there anything more adverse to its accuracy than
fixidity of opinion. The man who is certain he is right is almost
sure to be wrong, and he has the additional misfortune of inevitably
remaining so. All our theories are fixed upon uncertain data, and all
of them want alteration and support. Ever since the world began opinion
has changed with the progress of things; and it is something more than
absurd to suppose that we have a sure claim to perfection, or that we
are in possession of the highest stretch of intellect which has or can
result from human thought. Why our successors should not displace us
in our opinions, as well as in our persons, it is difficult to say; it
ever has been so, and from analogy would be supposed to continue so;
and yet, with all this practical evidence of the fallibility of our
opinions, all, and none more than philosophers, are ready to assert the
real truth of their opinions."
In his discourse entitled "Observations on Mental Education,"
like a skilful physician he first determines what is the great
intellectual disease from which the community suffers--"deficiency
of judgment,"--and then he lays down rules by which each man may
attempt his own cure. For this self-education, "it is necessary that
a man examine himself, and that not carelessly.... A first result of
this habit of mind will be an internal conviction of _ignorance in
many things respecting which his neighbours are taught_, and that his
opinions and conclusions on such matters ought to be advanced with
reservation. A mind so disciplined will be _open to correction upon
good grounds in all things_, even in those it is best acquainted with;
and should familiarize itself with the idea of such being the case....
It is right that we should stand by and act on our principles, but
not right to hold them in obstinate blindness, or retain them when
proved to be erroneous." And then he gives cases from his own mental
history:--"I remember the time when I believed a spark was produced
between voltaic metals as they approached to contact (and the reasons
why it might be possible yet remain); but others doubted the fact and
denied the proofs, and on re-examination I found reason to admit their
corrections were well founded. Years ago I believed that electrolites
could conduct electricity by a conduction proper; that has also been
denied by many through long time: though I believed myself right, yet
circumstances have induced me to pay that respect to criticism as
to re-investigate the subject, and I have the pleasure of thinking
that nature confirms my original conclusions. So, though evidence may
appear to preponderate extremely in favour of a certain decision, it
is wise and proper to hear a counter-statement. You can have no idea
how often, and how much, under such an impression, I have desired that
the marvellous descriptions which have reached me might prove, in some
points, correct; and how frequently I have submitted myself to hot
fires, to friction with magnets, to the passes of hands, &c., lest I
should be shutting out discovery;--encouraging the strong desire that
something might be true, and that I might aid in the development of
a new force of nature." He turns then to another evil, and its cure:
"The _tendency to deceive ourselves_ regarding all we wish for, and
the necessity of _resistance to these desires_; ... the force of the
temptation which urges us to seek for such evidence and appearances as
are in favour of our desires, and to disregard those which oppose them,
is wonderfully great. In this respect we are all, more or less, active
promoters of error." He winds up his remarks upon this subject with the
italicized sentence: "I will simply express my strong belief that that
point of self-education which consists in teaching the mind to resist
its desires and inclinations until they are proved to be right, is the
most important of all, not only in things of natural philosophy, but
in every department of daily life." He turns then to the necessity of
a "habit of forming clear and precise ideas," and of expressing them
in "clear and definite language:"--"When the different data required
are in our possession, and we have succeeded in forming a clear idea
of each, the mind should be instructed to _balance them_ one against
another, and not suffered carelessly to hasten to a conclusion." "As a
result of this wholesome mental condition, we should be able to form a
_proportionate judgment_;" that is, one proportionate to the evidence,
ranging through all degrees of probability--while he adds: "Frequently
the exercise of the judgment ought to end in _absolute reservation_."
"The education which I advocate," says Faraday, "will require
_patience_ and _labour of thought_ in every exercise tending to
improve the judgment. It matters not on what subject a person's mind
is occupied; he should engage in it with the conviction that it will
require mental labour." "Because the education is internal, it is not
the less needful; nor is it more the duty of a man that he should cause
his child to be taught, than that he should teach himself. Indolence
may tempt him to neglect the self-examination and experience which
form his school, and weariness may induce the evasion of the necessary
practices; but surely a thought of the prize should suffice to
stimulate him to the requisite exertion; and to those who reflect upon
the many hours and days devoted by a lover of sweet sounds to gain a
moderate facility upon a mere mechanical instrument, it ought to bring
a correcting blush of shame if they feel convicted of neglecting the
beautiful living instrument wherein play all the powers of the mind."
At the commencement of this discourse the lecturer felt called upon
to limit the range of his remarks:--"High as man is placed above the
creatures around him, there is a higher and far more exalted position
within his view; and the ways are infinite in which he occupies his
thoughts about the fears, or hopes, or expectations of a future life.
I believe that the truth of that future cannot be brought to his
knowledge by any exertion of his mental powers, however exalted they
may be; that it is made known to him by other teaching than his own,
and is received through simple belief of the testimony given. Let no
one suppose for a moment that the self-education I am about to commend
in respect of the things of this life extends to any considerations
of the hope set before us, as if man by reasoning could find out God.
It would be improper here to enter upon this subject further than to
claim an absolute distinction between religious and ordinary belief.
I shall be reproached with the weakness of refusing to apply those
mental operations which I think good in respect of high things to the
very highest. I am content to bear the reproach. Yet, even in earthly
matters, I believe that 'the invisible things of Him from the creation
of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that
are made, even His eternal power and Godhead;' and I have never seen
anything incompatible between those things of man which can be known
by the spirit of man which is within him, and those higher things
concerning his future which he cannot know by that spirit." There is of
course a certain truth in this passage; spiritual discernment is a real
thing possessed by some, and not by others; yet is there this absolute
distinction between religious and ordinary belief? Surely there is
the same opportunity and the same necessity for careful judgment, and
for resistance to prejudice or preference, when we are weighing the
credentials of anything that may come before us purporting to be a
revelation from above; surely too, if we have satisfied ourselves that
we possess such a revelation, we must seek for the same clearness of
ideas, and must exercise the same patience and labour of thought, if
we would understand it aright. That mental discipline which fits us
to interpret the works of God cannot but be akin to the intellectual
training required for interpreting His word.
Since Faraday thought and wrote, the question of public education has
taken a far deeper hold on the feelings and the hopes of the nation,
and it is not merely the extent of the instruction, but its nature
also, that is discussed. It is held to be no longer right that the
minds of our youth should be fed almost exclusively on the dry husks
of classic or mediæval knowledge, while the rich banquet of modern
discovery remains untasted. Yet it is hard for natural science to
gain an honoured place in our venerable scholastic institutions.
Faraday, however, had long formed his conclusions on this subject. In
one of his Friday evening discourses he says: "The development of the
applications of physical science in modern times has become so large
and so essential to the well-being of man, that it may justly be used
as illustrating the true character of pure science as a department of
knowledge, and the claims it may have for consideration by Governments,
Universities, and all bodies to whom is confided the fostering care
and direction of learning. As a branch of learning, men are beginning
to recognize the right of science to its own particular place; for,
though flowing in channels utterly different in their course and
end from those of literature, it conduces not less, as a means of
instruction, to the discipline of the mind, whilst it ministers, more
or less, to the wants, comforts, and proper pleasure, both mental and
bodily, of every individual of every class in life. Until of late
years, the education for, and recognition of it by the bodies which
may be considered as governing the general course of all education,
have been chiefly directed to it only as it could serve professional
services, viz. those which are remunerated by society; but now the
fitness of university degrees in science is under consideration, and
many are taking a high view of it, as distinguished from literature,
and think that it may well be studied for its own sake, _i.e._ as a
proper exercise of the human intelligence, able to bring into action
and development all the powers of the mind. As a branch of learning,
it has (without reference to its applications) become as extensive and
varied as literature; and it has this privilege, that it must ever go
on increasing."
On the subject of scientific education Faraday was examined by the
Public Schools Commission, November 18th, 1862, and his sentiments
of course appear in their report. He said to them: "That the natural
knowledge which has been given to the world in such abundance during
the last fifty years should remain untouched, and that no sufficient
attempt should be made to convey it to the young mind growing up
and obtaining its first views of those things, is to me a matter so
strange that I find it difficult to understand. Though I think I see
the opposition breaking away, it is yet a very hard one to overcome.
That it ought to be overcome I have not the least doubt in the world."
Lord Clarendon asked him: "You think it is now knocking at the door,
and there is a prospect of the door being opened?" "Yes," answered
Faraday, "and it will make its way, or we shall stay behind other
nations in our mode of education." He had been led to the conviction
that the exclusive attention to literary studies created a tendency to
regard other things as nonsense, or belonging only to the artisan, and
so the mind is positively injured for the reception of real knowledge.
He says: "It is the highly educated man that we find coming to us
again and again, and asking the most simple question in chemistry or
mechanics; and when we speak of such things as the conservation of
force, the permanency of matter, and the unchangeability of the laws of
nature, they are far from comprehending them, though they have relation
to us in every action of our lives. Many of these instructed persons
are as far from having the power of judging of these things as if their
minds had never been trained."
He gives his own opinion as to the precise course to be pursued with
great diffidence; but it is evident that he would begin the education
in natural science at a pretty early age, and in all cases carry it
up to a certain point. One-fifth of a boy's time might be devoted to
this purpose at present, though in less than half a century he thinks
science will deserve and obtain a far larger share. Supposing a boy of
eleven years of age and of ordinary intelligence at one of our public
schools: "I would teach him," he says, "all those things that come
before classics in the programme of the London University,--mechanics,
hydrostatics, hydraulics, pneumatics, acoustics, and optics. They
are very simple and easily understood when they are looked at with
attention by both man and boy. With a candle, a lamp, and a lens or
two, an intelligent instructor might teach optics in a very short
time; and so with chemistry. I should desire all these." Much would
depend on the competency and earnestness of the teacher. "Good lectures
might do a great deal. They would at all events remove the absolute
ignorance which sometimes now appears, but would give a very poor
knowledge of natural things."
Perhaps these opinions of one whose lips are now silent will yet have
their weight in the discussion of this question both in our highest
seats of learning and in those educational parliaments which have been
lately called into existence in almost every town and district of our
country.
From the somewhat disparaging remarks about lectures quoted above, it
must not be supposed that this prince of lecturers depreciated his
office. "Lectures," he said, "depend entirely for their value upon the
manner in which they are given. It is not the matter, it is not the
subject, so much as the man; but if he is not competent, and does not
feel that there is a need of competency, to convey his ideas gently and
quietly and simply to the young mind, he simply throws up obstacles,
and will be found using words which they will not comprehend." These
were the words of his later days, but fortunately he felt "the need
of competency" before his own habits were formed, and in four letters
to Abbott we find wonderfully sagacious observations on the matter,
which it would be well for any young lecturer to study. He describes
the proper arrangement of a lecture-room, dwelling on the necessity
of good ventilation; and then, having considered the fittest subjects
for popular lectures, he turns to the character of the audience, and
shows how that must be studied; for some expect to be entertained by
the manner of the lecturer as well as his subject, while others care
for something which will instruct. He dwells on the superiority of the
eye over the ear as a channel of knowledge, and lays down some rules
for this kind of instruction, which he of all men subsequently carried
out to perfection. "Apparatus is an essential part of every lecture in
which it can be introduced.... Diagrams and tables, too, are necessary,
or at least add in an eminent degree to the illustration and perfection
of a lecture. When an experimental lecture is to be delivered, and
apparatus is to be exhibited, some kind of order should be observed in
the arrangement of them on the lecture table. Every particular part
illustrative of the lecture should be in view; no one thing should hide
another from the audience, nor should anything stand in the way of or
obstruct the lecturer. They should be so placed, too, as to produce a
kind of uniformity in appearance. No one part should appear naked and
another crowded, unless some particular reason exists and makes it
necessary to be so. At the same time the whole should be so arranged as
to keep one operation from interfering with another." A good delivery
comes in for its share of praise; "for though to all true philosophers
science and nature will have charms innumerable in every dress, yet I
am sorry to say that the generality of mankind cannot accompany us one
short hour unless the path is strewed with flowers." Then, "a lecturer
should appear easy and collected, undaunted and unconcerned, his
thoughts about him, and his mind clear and free for the contemplation
and description of his subject. His action should not be hasty and
violent, but slow, easy, and natural, consisting principally in
changes of the posture of the body, in order to avoid the air of
stiffness or sameness that would otherwise be unavoidable. His whole
behaviour should evince respect for his audience, and he should in
no case forget that he is in their presence." He allows a lecturer
to prepare his discourse in writing, but not to read it before the
audience, and points out how necessary it is "to raise their interest
at the commencement of the lecture, and by a series of imperceptible
gradations, unnoticed by the company, keep it alive as long as the
subject demands it." This of course forbids breaks in the argument,
or digressions foreign to the main purpose, and limits the length of
the lecture to a period during which the listeners can pay unwearied
attention. He castigates those speakers who descend so low as "to angle
for claps," or who throw out hints for commendation, and shows that
apologies should be made as seldom as possible. Experiments should
be to the point, clear, and easily understood: "they should rather
approach to simplicity, and explain the established principles of the
subject, than be elaborate and apply to minute phenomena only.... 'Tis
well, too, when the lecturer has the ready wit and the presence of mind
to turn any casual circumstance to an illustration of his subject."
But experiments should be explained by a satisfactory theory; or if
the scientific world is divided in opinion, both sides of the question
ought to be stated with the strongest arguments for each, that justice
may be done and honour satisfied.
Often in later days was his experience in lecturing made use of for
the benefit of others. "If," he once remarked to a young lecturer, "I
said to my audience, 'This stone will fall to the ground if I open my
hand,' I should open my hand and let it fall. Take nothing for granted
as known; inform the eye at the same time as you address the ear." I
remember him once giving me hints on the laying of the lecture table at
the Institution, and telling me that where possible he was accustomed
to arrange the apparatus in such a way as to suggest the order of the
experiments. An incident told me by Dr. Carpenter will illustrate some
of the foregoing points. The first time he heard Faraday lecture at
the Royal Institution, the Professor was explaining the researches
of Melloni on radiant heat. During the discourse he touched on the
refraction and polarization of heat; and to explain refraction he
showed the simple experiment of fixing some coloured wafers at the
bottom of a basin, and then pouring in water so as to make them
apparently rise. Dr. Carpenter, who had come up from Bristol with grand
ideas of the lectures at Albemarle Street, wondered greatly at the
introduction of so commonplace an experiment. Of course there were many
other illustrations, and beautiful ones too. He went down, however,
after the lecture, to the table, and among the crowd chatting there was
an old gentleman who remarked, "I think the best experiment to-night
was that of the wafers in the basin."
When a young lecturer, Faraday took lessons in elocution from Mr.
Smart, and was at great pains to cure himself of any defect of
pronunciation or manner; for this purpose he would get a friendly
critic to form part of his audience. On the fly-leaves of many of the
notes of his lectures are written the reminders--"Stand up"--"Don't
talk quick." Indeed, in early days it was so much a matter of anxiety
to him that everything in his lectures should be as perfect as
possible, that he not only was accustomed to go over everything again
and again in his mind, but the difficulty of satisfying himself used
to trouble his dreams. I was told this, if I am not mistaken, by
himself; and it goes far to explain how his discourses possessed such a
fascination.
Some of his feelings in regard to lecturing may be learnt from
the following particulars, for which I am indebted to Mr. Charles
Tomlinson. They relate to a course of lectures he delivered in 1849 on
Statical Electricity. The first lecture began thus:--"Time moves on,
and brings changes to ourselves as well as to science. I feel that I
must soon resign into the hands of my successors the position which
I now occupy at this table. Indeed, I have long felt how much rather
I would sit among you and be instructed than stand here and attempt
to instruct. I have always felt my position in this Institution as a
very strange one. Coming after such a man as Davy, and associated with
such a man as Brande, and having had to make a position for myself, I
have always felt myself here in a strange position. You will wonder
why I make these remarks. It is not from any affectation of modesty
that I do so, but I feel that loss of memory may soon incapacitate me
altogether for my duties. Without, however, troubling you more about
myself, let us proceed to the subject before us, and fall back upon
the beginnings of the wonderful science of electricity. I shall have
to trouble you with very little of theory. The facts are so wonderful
that I shall not attempt to explain them." At the second lecture,
"Faraday advanced to the table at three o'clock, and began to apologize
for an obstruction of voice, which indeed was painfully evident. He
said that, 'in an engagement where the contracting parties were one
and many, the one ought not on any slight ground to break his part of
the engagement with the many, and therefore, if the audience would
excuse his imperfect utterance, he would endeavour--' Murmurs arose:
'Put off the lecture.' Faraday begged to be allowed to go on. A medical
man then rose and said he had given it as his opinion that it would be
dangerous to Dr. Faraday to proceed. Faraday again urged his wish to
proceed--said it was giving so much trouble to the ladies, who had sent
away their carriages, and perhaps put off other engagements. On this
the whole audience rose as by a single impulse, and a number of persons
surrounded Faraday, who now yielded to the general desire to spare him
the pain and inconvenience of lecturing." A fortnight elapsed before
he could again make his appearance, but he continued his course later
than usual, in order not to deprive his audience of any of the eight
lectures he had undertaken to give them. Prince Albert came to one of
these extra lectures.
Faraday's opinion as to the honours due to scientific men from society
or from Government, may be gathered from the following extract from
a letter written me by his private friend Mr. Blaikley:--"On one
occasion, when making some remark in reference to a movement on behalf
of science, I inadvertently spoke of the proper honour due to science.
He at once remarked, 'I am not one who considers that science can be
honoured.' I at once saw the point. His views of the grandeur of truth,
when once apprehended, raised it far beyond any honour that man could
give it; but man might honour himself by respecting and acknowledging
it."
Professor George Wilson, of Edinburgh, has thus described his first
visit to the philosopher: "Faraday was very kind, showed me his whole
laboratory with labours going on, and talked frankly and kindly; but to
the usual question of something to do, gave the usual round O answer,
and treated me to a just, but not very cheering animadversion on the
Government of this country, which, unlike that of every other civilized
country, will give no help to scientific inquiry, and will afford no
aid or means of study for young chemists."
"Take care of your money," was his advice to Mr. Joule, then another
young aspirant to scientific honours, but who has since rendered the
highest service to science, without leaning on any hopes of Government
help or public support.
But the impressions given in conversation may not be always correct.
Happily there exist his written opinions on this subject. In a letter
addressed to Professor Andrews of Belfast, and dated 2nd February,
1843, there occurs this passage:--"As to the particular point of your
letter about which you honour me by asking my advice, I have no advice
to give; but I have a strong feeling in the matter, and will tell you
what I should do. I have always felt that there is something degrading
in offering rewards for intellectual exertion, and that societies or
academies, or even Kings and Emperors, should mingle in the matter
does not remove the degradation, for the feeling which is hurt is a
point above their condition, and belongs to the respect which a man
owes to himself. With this feeling, I have never since I was a boy
aimed at any such prize; or even if, as in your case, they came near
me, have allowed them to move me from my course; and I have always
contended that such rewards will never move the men who are most worthy
of reward. Still, I think rewards and honours _good_ if properly
distributed, but they should be given for what a man has done, and
not offered for what he is to do, or else talent must be considered
as a thing marketable and to be bought and sold, and then down falls
that high tone of mind which is the best excitement to a man of power,
and will make him do more than any commonplace reward. When a man is
rewarded for his deserts, he honours those who grant the reward, and
they give it not as a moving impulse to him, but to all those who by
the reward are led to look to that man for an example."
Eleven years afterwards Faraday expressed similar views, but more
fully, in a letter to the late Lord Wrottesley as chairman of the
Parliamentary Committee of the British Association:--
"ROYAL INSTITUTION, _March 10th, 1854_.
"MY LORD,
"I feel unfit to give a deliberate opinion on the course it might be
advisable for the Government to pursue if it were anxious to improve
the position of science and its cultivators in our country. My course
of life, and the circumstances which make it a happy one for me, are
not those of persons who conform to the usages and habits of society.
Through the kindness of all, from my Sovereign downwards, I have that
which supplies all my need; and in respect of honours, I have, as a
scientific man, received from foreign countries and Sovereigns, those
which, belonging to very limited and select classes, surpass in my
opinion anything that it is in the power of my own to bestow.
"I cannot say that I have not valued such distinctions; on the
contrary, I esteem them very highly, but I do not think I have ever
worked for or sought after them. Even were such to be now created
here, the time is past when these would possess any attraction for
me; and you will see therefore how unfit I am, upon the strength of
any personal motive or feeling, to judge of what might be influential
upon the minds of others. Nevertheless, I will make one or two remarks
which have often occurred to my mind.
"Without thinking of the effect it might have upon distinguished men
of science, or upon the minds of those who, stimulated to exertion,
might become distinguished, I do think that a Government should
_for its own sake_ honour the men who do honour and service to the
country. I refer now to honours only, not to beneficial rewards; of
such honours I think there are none. Knighthoods and baronetcies are
sometimes conferred with such intentions, but I think them utterly
unfit for that purpose. Instead of conferring distinction, they
confound the man who is one of twenty, or perhaps fifty, with hundreds
of others. They depress rather than exalt him, for they tend to lower
the especial distinction of mind to the commonplaces of society. An
intelligent country ought to recognize the scientific men among its
people as a class. If honours are conferred upon eminence in any
class, as that of the law or the army, they should be in this also.
The aristocracy of the class should have other distinctions than those
of lowly and high-born, rich and poor, yet they should be such as to
be worthy of those whom the Sovereign and the country should delight
to honour, and, being rendered very desirable and even enviable in
the eyes of the aristocracy by birth, should be unattainable except
to that of science. Thus much I think the Government and the country
ought to do, for their own sake and the good of science, more than for
the sake of the men who might be thought worthy of such distinction.
The latter have attained to their fit place, whether the community at
large recognize it or not.
"But besides that, and as a matter of reward and encouragement to
those who have not yet risen to great distinction, I think the
Government should, in the very many cases which come before it having
a relation to scientific knowledge, employ men who pursue science,
provided they are also men of business. This is perhaps now done to
some extent, but to nothing like the degree which is practicable with
advantage to all parties. The right means cannot have occurred to a
Government which has not yet learned to approach and distinguish the
class as a whole. * * *
"I have the honour to be, my Lord,
"Your very faithful Servant,
"M. FARADAY."
Sometimes people's views on these matters change when the despised
distinction is actually offered, but it was not so with him; for once,
when indirectly sounded as to whether a knighthood would be acceptable,
he declined the honour, preferring to "remain plain Michael Faraday to
the last."
In this day, when so many allow their names to be used for offices of
which they never intended to discharge the duties, the following letter
may convey an appropriate lesson:--
"ROYAL INSTITUTION, _Oct. 17th, 1849_.
"MY DEAR PERCY,
"I cannot be on the committee; I avoid everything of that kind, that I
may keep my stupid mind a little clear. As to being on a committee and
not working, that is worse still. * * *
"Ever yours and Mrs. Percy's,
"M. FARADAY."
It is well known that he waged implacable war with the Spiritualists.
Eighteen years ago tables took to spinning mysteriously under the
fingers of ladies and gentlemen who sat or stood around the animated
furniture; much was said about a new force, much too about strange
revelations from another sphere, but Faraday made a simple apparatus
which convinced him and most others that the tables moved through
the unconscious pressure of the hands that touched them. The account
of this will be found in the _Athenæum_ of July 2, 1853. Three weeks
afterwards he wrote to his friend Schönbein: "I have not been at work
except in turning the tables upon the table-turners, nor should I
have done that, but that so many inquiries poured in upon me, that
I thought it better to stop the inpouring flood by letting all know
at once what my views and thoughts were. What a weak, credulous,
incredulous, unbelieving, superstitious, bold, frightened,--what a
ridiculous world ours is, as far as concerns the mind of man! How
full of inconsistencies, contradictions, and absurdities it is!" But
the believers in these occult phenomena, some of them holding high
positions about the Court, would not let him alone; and there are
many indications of the annoyance and irritation they caused him.
He declined to meet the professors of the mysterious art, and the
following letter will serve to show the way in which he regarded them:--
"ROYAL INSTITUTION, _Nov. 1, 1864_.
"SIR,
"I beg to thank you for your papers, but have wasted more thought and
time on so-called spiritual manifestation than it has deserved. Unless
the spirits are utterly contemptible, _they_ will find means to draw
my attention.
"How is it that your name is not signed to the testimony that you
give? Are you doubtful even whilst you publish? I've no evidence that
any natural or unnatural power is concerned in the phenomena that
requires investigation or deserves it. If I could consult the spirits,
or move them to make themselves honestly manifest, I would do it. But
I cannot, and am weary of them.
"I am, Sir, your obedient Servant,
"M. FARADAY."
There was once a strange statement put forth to the effect that Faraday
said electricity was life.[15] He himself denied it indignantly; but
as most falsehoods are perversions of some truth, this one probably
originated in his experiments on the Gymnotus. He felt an intense
interest in those marine animals that give shocks, and sought "to
identify the living power which they possess, with that which man can
call into action from inert matter, and by him named electricity."[16]
The most powerful of these is the Gymnotus, or electrical eel, and a
live specimen of this creature, forty inches long, was secured by the
Adelaide Gallery--a predecessor of the Polytechnic--in the summer of
1838. Four days after its arrival the poor creature lost an eye; for
two months it could not be coaxed to eat either meat or fish, worms or
frogs; but at last one day it killed and devoured four small fishes,
and afterwards swallowed about a fish per diem. It was accustomed to
swim round and round the tank, till a live fish was dropped in, when in
some cases bending round its victim, it would discharge a shock that
made the fish float on its back stunned and ready to be sucked into the
jaws of its assailant.
Faraday examined this eel and the water around it, both with his hands
and with special collectors of electricity, and satisfied himself not
merely of the shock, which was easy enough, but of its power to deflect
a galvanometer, to make a magnet, to effect chemical decomposition, and
to give a spark. His account of the experiments terminates with some
speculations on the connection of this animal electricity with nervous
power; but there the matter rested. His own views were thus expressed
to his friend Dumas:--"As living creatures produce heat, and a heat
certainly identical with that of our hearths, why should they not
produce electricity also, and an electricity in like manner identical
with that of our machines? But if the heat produced during life, and
necessary to life, is not life after all, why should electricity itself
be life? Like heat, like chemical action, electricity is an implement
of life, and nothing more."
Whether the belief that electricity is life would be inconsistent
with the Christian faith or not, it is clear that when an infidel
preacher asserts that Faraday held such an opinion, his assertion will
influence few who are not already disposed to Materialism. Far more
damaging is it to the cause of religion when her ministers repeat the
assumption of the infidel that those who study the truths of nature
are particularly prone to disbelieve. Yet such statements have been
made, even with reference to Faraday. I have it on the best authority
that one of the leading clergymen of the day, preaching on a special
occasion from Peter's words, "The elements shall melt with fervent
heat, the earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned
up," spoke in antagonism to scientific men, alluding to Faraday by
name, and to his computation of the tremendous electrical forces that
would be produced by sundering the elements of one drop of water. "They
shall be confuted by their own element--fire," added the preacher,
careless of the conclusion which his audience might legitimately draw
from such a two-edged argument. The accuser of the men of science was
much astonished when told after his sermon, by a brother clergyman,
that Faraday and other eminent physicists of the day were believers in
a divine revelation.
It may be doubted whether Faraday ever tried to form a definite idea
of the relation in which the physical forces stand to the Supreme
Intelligence, as Newton did, or his own friend Sir John Herschel;
nor did he consider it part of his duty as a lecturer to look beyond
the natural laws he was describing. His practice in this respect has
been well described by the Rev. Professor Pritchard:[17]--"This great
and good man never obtruded the strength of his faith upon those whom
he publicly addressed; upon principle he was habitually reticent on
such topics, because he believed they were ill suited for the ordinary
assemblages of men. Yet on more than one occasion when he had been
discoursing on some of the magnificent pre-arrangements of Divine
Providence so lavishly scattered in nature, I have seen him struggle to
repress the emotion which was visibly striving for utterance; and then,
at the last, with one single far-reaching word, he would just hint at
his meaning rather than express it. On such occasions he only who had
ears to hear, could hear."
In his more familiar lectures to the cadets at Woolwich, however, he
more than hinted at such elevated thoughts. In conversation, too,
Faraday has been known to express his wonder that anyone should fail
to recognize the constant traces of design; and in his writings there
sometimes occur such passages as the following:--"When I consider the
multitude of associated forces which are diffused through nature--when
I think of that calm and tranquil balancing of their energies which
enables elements most powerful in themselves, most destructive to the
world's creatures and economy, to dwell associated together and be made
subservient to the wants of creation, I rise from the contemplation
more than ever impressed with the wisdom, the beneficence, and
grandeur beyond our language to express, of the Great Disposer of all!"
Faraday's journals abound with descriptions of "nature and human
nature." He had evidently a keen eye for the beauties of scenery, and
occasionally the objects around him suggested higher thoughts. Here are
two instances taken from his notes of a Swiss tour in 1841:--
"_Monday, 19th._--Very fine day; walk with dear Sarah on the lake side
to Oberhofen, through the beautiful vineyards; very busy were the
women and men in trimming the vines, stripping off leaves and tendrils
from the fruit-bearing branches. The churchyard was beautiful, and the
simplicity of the little remembrance-posts set upon the graves very
pleasant. One who had been too poor to put up an engraved brass plate,
or even a painted board, had written with ink on paper the birth and
death of the being whose remains were below, and this had been fastened
to a board, and mounted on the top of a stick at the head of the
grave, the paper being protected by a little edge and roof. Such was
the simple remembrance, but Nature had added her pathos, for under the
shelter by the writing a caterpillar had fastened itself, and passed
into its deathlike state of chrysalis, and, having ultimately assumed
its final state, it had winged its way from the spot, and had left the
corpse-like relics behind. How old and how beautiful is this figure of
the resurrection! Surely it can never appear before our eyes without
touching the thoughts."
"_August 12th, Brienz Lake._--George and I crossed the lake in a boat
to the Giessbach--he to draw, and I to saunter.... This most beautiful
fall consists of a fine river, which passes by successive steps down
a very deep precipice into the lake. In some of these steps there is
a clear leap of water of 100 feet or more, in others most beautiful
combinations of leap, cataract, and rapid, the finest rocks occurring
at the sides and bed of the torrent. In one part a bridge passes
over it. In another a cavern and a path occur under it. To-day every
fall was foaming from the abundance of water, and the current of
wind brought down by it was in some parts almost too strong to stand
against. The sun shone brightly, and the rainbows seen from various
points were very beautiful. One at the bottom of a fine but furious
fall was very pleasant. There it remained motionless, whilst the gusts
and clouds of spray swept furiously across its place, and were dashed
against the rock. It looked like a spirit strong in faith and stedfast
in the midst of the storm of passions sweeping across it; and though
it might fade and revive, still it held on to the rock as in hope and
giving hope; and the very drops which in the whirlwind of their fury
seemed as if they would carry all away, were made to revive it and give
it greater beauty.
"How often are the things we fear and esteem as troubles made to become
blessings to those who are led to receive them with humility and
patience."
* * * * *
In concluding this section it may be well to string together a few gems
from Faraday's lectures or correspondence, though they are greatly
damaged by being torn away from their original setting:--
"After all, though your science is much to me, we are not friends
for science sake only, but for something better in a man, something
more important in his nature, affection, kindness, good feeling, moral
worth; and so, in remembrance of these, I now write to place myself
in your presence, and in thought shake hands, tongues, and hearts
together." This was addressed to Schönbein.
"I should be glad to think that high mental powers insured something
like a high moral sense, but have often been grieved to see the
contrary: as also, on the other hand, my spirit has been cheered by
observing in some lowly and uninstructed creature such a healthful and
honourable and dignified mind as made one in love with human nature.
When that which is good mentally and morally meet in one being, that
that being is more fitted to work out and manifest the glory of God in
the creation, I fully admit."
"Let me, as an old man who ought by this time to have profited by
experience, say that when I was younger I found I often misinterpreted
the intentions of people, and found they did not mean what at the time
I supposed they meant; and further, that as a general rule, it was
better to be a little dull of apprehension when phrases seemed to imply
pique, and quick in perception when, on the contrary, they seemed to
imply kindly feeling. The real truth never fails ultimately to appear;
and opposing parties, if wrong, are sooner convinced when replied to
forbearingly, than when overwhelmed."
"Man is an improving animal. Unlike the animated world around him,
which remains in the same constant state, he 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 transitory 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."
"It is not the duty or place of a philosopher to dictate belief, and
all hypothesis is more or less matter of belief; he has but to give his
facts and his conclusions, and so much of the logic which connects the
former with the latter as he may think necessary, and then to commit
the whole to the scientific world for present, and, as he may sometimes
without presumption believe, for future judgment."
FOOTNOTES:
[15] I myself once heard this advanced by an infidel lecturer on
Paddington Green.
[16] "Electrical Researches," Series XV.
[17] "Analogies in the Progress of Nature and Grace," p. 121.