BACK AT WORK.
"A choice that from the passions of the world
Withdrew, and fixed me in a still retreat;
Sheltered, but not to social duties lost,
Secluded, but not buried; and with song
Cheering my days, and with industrious thought;
With the ever-welcome company of books;
With virtuous friendship's soul-sustaining aid,
And with the blessings of domestic love."
WORDSWORTH.
His friends and relations having had due attentions from him, Faraday
at once began to cast about for work. On going abroad with Davy he had
relinquished his position at the Royal Institution, though Sir Humphry
had promised to befriend him on their return; this promise was, much
to Faraday's gratification, duly fulfilled. Within a fortnight of his
return Michael found himself re-engaged at the Institution in the
capacity of "assistant in the laboratory and mineralogical collection,
and superintendent of the apparatus," a high-sounding office that
carried with it the none too substantial honorarium of thirty shillings
a week, and, as before, rooms in the building. It was, however, a
distinct rise, both in position and in wage, and Faraday, we may be
sure, was pleased to get back to his well-loved Institution on such
terms.
A life spent in scientific research is, generally, an apparently
uneventful one. Faraday's life, far from being an exception to this
rule, was rather an accentuation of it. The story of his life is indeed
highly interesting; but its interest lies in it, not as a story of
action and change, but as a life that may be said to have realised
almost wholly the ideal which was set before it. From the very first
moment when Faraday gave expression to his hate for trade and his
love for science, his whole life was a practical illustration of his
feelings; as we shall find on following him through his great and
honourable career, there were many occasions on which he refused not
only titles and such like honours, but pecuniary benefits which might
fairly be considered his dues--no, "his work was wrought for love and
not for gain," as the line which I have placed on the title page of
this little book so well expresses it.
The tour on the Continent, as has been noted, was the most striking
episode in Faraday's long life. From May 7th, 1815 (the date on which
he rejoined the Institution), onwards, his life was a time of steady
intellectual growth, spent in chemical research, in the explaining of
phenomena, and in what is by no means his least claim on our regard,
the popularisation of scientific knowledge. We have seen in his
early correspondence with Benjamin Abbott how, on his very earliest
acquaintance with lecturing and lectures at the Royal Institution,
he began to study the different styles of the various lecturers,
to note their peculiarities, and in what lay the secret of their
success; we have seen, too, how he was striving to improve himself in
composition--in the clear and intelligent method of stating things. He
was preparing himself betimes for what he felt to be part of his true
vocation; how eminently successful--beyond his wildest imaginings--he
was, will be seen as we follow his life-story year by year.
[Illustration: THE DAVY SAFETY LAMP.]
It was, as Faraday frequently acknowledged, his good fortune to
assist Sir Humphry Davy in his experiments not only while abroad,
but after their home-coming. One of the most important of all Davy's
discoveries was made in the year of their return. On August 3rd he
acknowledged a letter which he had received from Dr. Gray, directing
his attention to the awful destruction of human life by explosions in
coal mines. On October 31st, Davy announced to his correspondent that
he had discovered a "safety lamp;" on November 2nd he read a paper on
fire-damp before the Royal Society, and on December 14th submitted
to Dr. Gray models of lamps and lanterns made on the principle of
his discovery, "that fire-damp will not explode in tubes or feeders
of a certain small diameter." In his experiments, in connection with
this discovery, Davy received considerable help from his laboratory
assistant, who must have been much gratified by that passage in Davy's
paper on the "safety lamp," in which the great discoverer expressed
himself as "indebted to Mr. Michael Faraday for much able assistance."
This was "Mr. Michael Faraday's" first public recognition, and must
have been very delightful to him, especially coming as it did from the
man of all others for whom, in his scientific capacity, Michael had the
most profound admiration.
Davy gained, as is well known, much honour and no inconsiderable amount
of money for his discovery. There are, however, circumstances in which
the safety lamp is _not_ safe; Faraday, and, it is to be presumed,
Davy himself, was aware of this. It is illustrative of Faraday's
stern regard for truth that, although he was at the time Davy's own
assistant, he did not, and would not, attest before a parliamentary
committee to the universal safety of the Davy lamp.
Early in 1816 we find Faraday beginning to put into practice those
ideas on lectures and lecturing which he had so carefully considered
before. On the point of giving his first lecture, though, he seems
to doubt himself, and in a letter to Abbott occurs the following
passage--"I intend making some experiments on that subject (lecturing)
soon; I will defer it (his letter on lecturing) till after such
experiments are made. In the meantime, as preparatory and introductory
to such a course of experiments, I will ask your opinion of, and
observations on, English composition--style, delivery, reading,
oratory, grammar, pronunciation, perspicuity, and in general all the
branches into which the _belles lettres_ divide themselves; and if by
asking I procure, I shall congratulate myself on the acquisition of
much useful knowledge and experience."
The first lecture--on the "General Properties of Matter"--was duly
and successfully delivered before the City Philosophical Society on
January 17th. Before trusting himself to go upon the platform, Faraday
carefully wrote out his lecture, word for word, as it was to be
delivered; a plan which he followed in the case of each of the other
six lectures which he gave before the same Society during the year.
These lectures I have had the pleasure of seeing, as they are neatly
written out and bound by their author. They are, with many similar
treasures, in the possession of Miss Jane Barnard, a niece of Faraday.
This year was an important one in several ways; not only did Faraday
give his first lecture, but also his first printed paper appeared in
the _Quarterly Journal of Science_, which was edited by Mr. Brande,
who succeeded Sir Humphry as chief of the Royal Institution. The paper
was on an analysis of native caustic lime, which had been undertaken
at Davy's instigation. That his scientific friends and patrons were
beginning to recognise something out of the common in their laboratory
assistant is shown in various ways, notably by such a passage as the
following, taken from Faraday's note-book: "When Mr. Brande left London
in August, he gave the _Quarterly Journal_ in charge to me; it has had
very much of my time and care, and writing, through it, has been more
abundant with me. It has, however, also been the means of giving me
earlier information on some new objects of science."
Faraday's common-place book--a kind of continuation of his
_Philosophical Miscellany_ of six years earlier--gives us a good
deal of information as to his intellectual progress at this time; it
shows us not only what scientific subjects were interesting him, but
also how zealously he was continuing his study of composition and the
mode of expressing what he had to say clearly and definitely. There
are passages from the _Spectator_, alongside of tests with arsenic,
a description of a visit to a silk-ribbon dresser's, along with an
account of Zerah Colburn, the American calculating boy. Sir Humphry
Davy wrote to Faraday, saying, "Mr. Colburn, the father of the American
boy who has such extraordinary powers of calculation, will explain to
you the method his son uses in confidence. I wish to ascertain if it
can be practically used."
It has been remarked of Faraday that his was a poet-nature expressing
itself through science; and this estimate seems largely true, but the
verses which he wrote in his common-place book, "On Love," if they
be his own composition, are extremely poor; there are other verses
though which will merit quotation. They are written by Mr. Dryden,
a fellow-member of the City Philosophical Society, and are entitled
"Quarterly Night," October 2nd, 1816, being descriptive of one of the
periodical gatherings of the Society. The following passage is of
especial interest to us, as it shows how Faraday impressed a young
contemporary:--
"But hark! A voice arises near the chair!
Its liquid sounds glide smoothly through the air;
The listening Muse with rapture bends to view
The place of speaking and the speaker too.
Neat was the youth in dress, in person plain;
His eye read thus, _Philosopher-in-grain_;
Of understanding clear, reflection deep;
Expert to apprehend, and strong to keep.
His watchful mind no subject can elude,
Nor specious arts of sophist e'er delude;
His powers, unshackled, range from pole to pole;
His mind from error free, from guilt his soul.
Warmth in his heart, good humour in his face,
A friend to mirth, but foe to vile grimace;
A temper candid, manner unassuming,
Always correct, yet always unpresuming.
Such was the youth, the chief of all the band;
His name well known, Sir Humphry's right hand.
With manly ease towards the chair he bends,
With Watts' logic at his finger-ends,
'I rise (but shall not on the theme enlarge)
To show my approbation of this charge:
If proved it be, the censure should be passed
Or this offence be neither worst nor last.
A precedent will stand from year to year,
And _'tis the usual practice_ we shall hear.
Extreme severity 'tis right to shun,
For who could stand were justice only done?
And yet experience does most clearly show
Extreme indulgence oft engenders woe.
In striving then to hit the golden mean--
To knowledge, prudence, wisdom, virtue seen--
Let Isaac then be censured, not in spite
But merely to evince our love of right.
Truth, order, justice, cannot be preserved
Unless the laws which rule us are observed.
I for the _principle_ alone contend,
Would lash the crime, but make the man my friend.'"
Faraday's progress during these first few years after his reinstatement
at the Royal Institution was rapid: his lectures to the City
Philosophical Society, his published papers, and his letters, all give
evidence of it. In 1817, as in the previous year, he delivered six
lectures before the Society. It is interesting to find that instead
of being written out word for word, the lectures were now delivered
from notes, showing how the young lecturer was becoming so assured of
his own command of language as to make the earlier method no longer
necessary. His common-place book for this year continues to show a wide
range of reading and thoughtfulness. In the summer, when the lectures
at the Institution had ceased for the recess, Faraday availed himself
of an invitation from his friend Huxtable, who was living at South
Moulton, and spent a month holiday-making in Devonshire. His early
impressions of that county, when he passed through it with Davy on
their way to the Continent, must have made him especially delighted
to visit it once more; more particularly as he had an opportunity
on this occasion of making geological excursions and of studying
"wavellite, hydrargellite, and such hard things." A letter which he
wrote from Barnstaple to his mother during this holiday is interesting,
referring as it does to those country occupations amid which she, in
her girlhood, passed her time:--"I have seen a great deal of country
life since I left town, and am highly pleased with it, though I should
by no means be contented to live away from town. I have been at
sheep-shearings, merry-makings, junketings, etc., and was never more
merry; and I must say of the country people (of Devonshire, at least)
that they are the most hospitable I could imagine. I have seen all your
processes of threshing, winnowing, cheese and butter-making, and think
I could now give _you_ some instruction, but all I have to say to you
on these subjects shall be said verbally."
Each year of his life at this period Faraday found himself becoming
busier than the previous one. Another five chemical lectures (on
the metals, well known and little known) were given before the City
Philosophical Society during 1818, completing a course, extending over
three years, of seventeen lectures on the chemical science, no mean
accomplishment for a young man from twenty-three to twenty-six years
of age. So much was his time now becoming occupied that we find a
great falling-off in his letters this year, a falling-off not only in
number, but also in length. The correspondence with Abbott, commenced
six years earlier, practically comes to an end in 1818; there was not,
it is necessary to mention, the slightest abatement in the warmth of
affection of the two friends; it was that, to a great extent, perhaps,
the correspondence had done its work, and what is undoubtedly the more
powerful reason, our young scientist was beginning to find his time so
well occupied with his favourite work that he could not devote enough
of it to the writing of long letters. Abbott was yet, and always, sure
of the heartiest hand-shake and the most unaffected welcome from one
who to the end of his life was the staunchest of friends.
On July 1st, 1818, Faraday read a highly interesting paper before the
members of the City Philosophical Society, on "Observations on the
Inertia of the Mind," in which he drew, in an able manner, an analogy
between a state of the mind and what in the physical world is known as
the inertia of matter. It may be of interest to note a few passages
from this lecture to illustrate the thoughtfulness and thoroughness of
Faraday's work at this time, and also to give an example of his early
style as a lecturer.
"Unlike the animated world around him, which remains in the same
constant state, man is continually varying, and it is one of the
noblest prerogatives of his nature, that in the highest of earthly
distinctions he has the power of raising and exalting himself
continually. The transition state of man has been held up to him as a
memento of his weakness; to man _degraded_ it may be so with justice;
to man as he ought to be it is no reproach; and in knowledge that
man only is to be contemned and despised who is _not_ in a state of
transition....
"By advancement on the plain of life, I mean advancement in those
things which distinguish men from beasts--sentient advancement. It is
not he who has soared above his fellow-creatures in power, it is not he
who can command most readily the pampering couch or the costly luxury;
but it is he who has done most good to his fellows, he who has directed
them in the doubtful moment, strengthened them in the weak moment,
aided them in the moment of necessity, and enlightened them in their
ignorance, that leads the ranks of mankind....
"There is a power in natural philosophy, of an influence universal, and
yet withal so obscure, in its nature so unobtrusive, that for many ages
no idea of it existed. It is called _inertia_. It tends to retain every
body in its _present_ state, and seems like the spirit of constancy
impressed upon matter. Whatever is in motion is by it retained in
motion, and whatever is at rest remains at rest under its sway. It
opposes every _new_ influence, strengthens every _old_ one. Is there
nothing in the human mind which seems analogous to this power?...
"Inertia is an essential property of matter; is it a never-failing
attendant on the mind? I hope it is; for as it seems to be in full
force whenever the mind is passive, I trust it is also in power when
she is actively engaged. Was the idle mind ever yet pleased to be
placed in activity? Was the dolt ever willing to resign inanity for
perception? Or are they not always found contented to remain as if
they were satisfied with their situation? They are like the shepherd
Magnus: although on a barren rock, their efforts to remove are irksome
and unpleasant; and they seem chained to the spot by a power over
which they have no control, of which they have no perception. Again:
in activity, what intellectual being would resign his employment? Who
would be content to forego the pleasures hourly crowding upon him? Each
new thought, perception, or judgment is a sufficient reward in itself
for his past labours, and all the future is pure enjoyment. There
is a labour in thought, but none who have once engaged in it would
willingly resign it. Intermissions I speak not of; 'tis the general
habit and tenor of the mind that concerns us, and that which has once
been made to taste the pleasures of its own voluntary exertions will
not by a slight cause be made to forego them.
"Inertia, as it regards matter, is a term sufficiently well understood
both in a state of rest and of motion. As it is not my intention to
attempt a description of functions of the mind according to strict
mathematical terms, I shall resign the exclusive use of the word at
present, and adopt two others, which, according to the sense they have
acquired from usage, will, I believe, supply its place with accuracy.
Apathy will represent the inertia of a passive mind; industry that of
an active mind.
"It is curious to consider how we qualify ideas essentially the same,
according to the words made use of to represent them. I might talk of
mental inertia for a long time without attaching either blame or praise
to it--without the chance even of doing so; but mention apathy and
industry, and the mind simultaneously censures the one and commends
the other. Yet the things are the same, both idleness and industry are
habits, and habits result from inertia....
"Inertia has a sway as absolute in natural philosophy over moving
bodies as over those at rest. It therefore does not retard motion or
change, but is as frequently active in continuing that state as in
opposing it. Now, is this the case with mental inertia?"
These passages from Faraday's early lectures serve to show us not only
how he was attaining the art of expressing himself clearly, but how
thoroughly he went into a subject on which he had once entered. It is
not possible to follow in detail the work on which Faraday was engaged.
We have seen him learning assiduously, and essaying to teach in the
friendly circle of the Philosophical Society. His work during the next
few years continued on very similar lines to those which we have
been regarding. Year by year, about this time, his scientific writing
increased--his work was increasing, his friends were increasing--he was
beginning to be "somebody," though as yet but in a small world. He had
commenced a correspondence with Professor G. de la Rive--the gentleman
who at Geneva had been so struck by him when he was acting as Davy's
travelling factotum--a correspondence which on the death of De la Rive
was continued with his son, Professor Auguste de la Rive.
In 1821 Faraday married. Before, however, we treat of this important
step in his life, let us glance at the journal which he kept of a
walking tour he took in Wales during the summer of 1819. This journal
gives us further evidence of the genuine enjoyment which he found in
scenery and nature in her wilder and more impressive aspects; it also
gives further evidence of his simple yet direct way of describing
things, of that true descriptive power of which his Continental journal
was often a good illustration. At five o'clock in the morning of July
10th, he mounted the top of the _Regulator_ coach at the White Horse
Cellar, Piccadilly, and at ten o'clock of the same evening was set
down at Bristol. Not at all a bad coach-ride for one day's journey.
He afterwards visited Cardiff, and went over the Dowlais Ironworks at
Merthyr; thence he and his companion wandered about at their own sweet
will, unconfined by any artificial circumstances. They walked in that
manner which adds so great a charm to a walking tour, never knowing one
day whither they should bend their way on the next. The following is a
delightful bit descriptive of a visit to the Fall of Scwd-yv-hên-rhyd,
or Glentaree, formed by the descent of the River Hên-rhyd.
"_Monday, 19th._--Proceeding onward into Brecknockshire, we suddenly
heard the roar of water where we least expected it, and came on the
edge of a deep and woody dell. Entering among the trees, we scrambled
onwards after our guide, tumbling and slipping, and jumping, and
swinging down the steep sides of the dingle, sometimes in the path of
a running torrent, sometimes in the projecting fragments of slate, and
sometimes where no path or way at all was visible. The thorns opposed
our passage, the boughs dashed the drops in our faces, and stones
frequently slipped from beneath our feet into the chasm below, in
places where the view fell uninterrupted by the perpendicular sides of
the precipices. By the time we had reached the bottom of the dingle,
our boots were completely soaked, and so slippery that no reliance
could be placed on steps taken in them. We managed, however, very
well, and were amply rewarded by the beauty of the fall which now came
in view. Before us was a chasm enclosed by high perpendicular and
water-worn rocks of slate, from the sides of which sprang a luxuriant
vegetation of trees, bushes, and plants. In its bosom was a basin of
water, into which fell from above a stream divided into minute drops
from the resistance of its deep fall. Here and there lay trunks of
trees which had been brought down by the torrent--striking marks of
its power--and the rugged bed of shingles and rocky masses further
heightened the idea other objects were calculated to give of the force
it possessed when swelled by rains. We stepped across the river on
a few tottering and slippery stones placed in its bed, and passing
beneath the overhanging masses ran round on projecting points, until
between the sheet of water and the rock over which it descended; and
there we remained some time admiring the scene. Before us was the path
of the torrent, after the fine leap which it made in this place; but
the abundance of wood hid it ere it had proceeded many yards from the
place where it fell. No path was discernible from hence, and we seemed
to be enclosed on a spot from whence there was no exit, and where no
cry for help could be heard because of the torrent-roar."
Yet another passage should be quoted from this journal; a passage
descriptive of an ascent of Cader Idris during a thunder-storm. A
thunder-storm was, all his life long, one of the most moving things to
Faraday. It seemed always to quicken him into new life.
[Illustration: CADER IDRIS.]
"_Sunday, July 26th._--Ascent of Cader Idris. The thunder had gradually
become more and more powerful, and now rain descended. The storm had
commenced at the western extremity of the valley, and rising up Cader
Idris traversed it in its length, and then passing over rapidly to
the south-east, deluged the hills with rain. The waters descended
in torrents from the very tops of the highest hills in places where
they had never yet been observed, and a river which ran behind the
house into the lake below rose momentarily, overflowing its banks,
and extended many yards over the meadows. The storm then took another
direction, passing over our heads to the spot in the west at which
it had commenced, and having been very violent in its course, seemed
there to be exhausted and to die away. The scene altogether was a very
magnificent one--the lightning's vivid flash illuminated those parts
which had been darkened by its humid habitation, and the thunder's roar
seemed the agonies of the expiring clouds as they dissolved into rain;
whilst the mountains in echoes mocked the sounds, and laughed at the
fruitless efforts of the elements against them."
The journeying was continued on to Dolgelly and Llangollen; and then
back again to London, and to work on in his old indefatigable manner.
Sir Humphry Davy was in Italy in 1818-19, investigating the questions
with regard to the unrolling of papyri recovered from the ruins of
Herculaneum. In February, 1819, he wrote to Faraday saying, "I have
sent a report on the state of the MSS. to our Government, with a plan
for the undertaking of unrolling; one part of the plan is to employ
a chemist for the purpose at Naples; should they consent, I hope I
shall have to make a proposition to you on the subject." At the end
of the same year Davy again wrote to his protégé in a similar strain,
but nothing ever came of it. And delighted as Faraday would doubtless
have been to re-visit Italy, he probably would not have undertaken the
few months' work at Naples if it had meant, as it would doubtless have
done, his severing his connection with the Royal Institution.
A much more important step was about to be taken by Faraday. He had
a friend, also a member and elder of the Sandemanian Church, by name
Barnard. Mr. Barnard was a silversmith who lived in Paternoster
Row, and thither Faraday often went, attracted by the charms of Mr.
Barnard's third daughter, Sarah. Faraday was at this time twenty-nine
years of age, the lady who was to exercise so great an influence
over his life was but twenty, and what is more she did not favour his
advances. At last, in July, 1820, he wrote to her, and in a letter
characterised by the depth no less than the warmth of his affection,
begged at any rate to be heard. Such letters, intended for the eyes
of but one person, are, as a rule, and it is well they should be, too
sacred to be freely reproduced for all the world to read. The letters
have, however, before been printed, and it may assist us in forming a
correct picture of Michael Faraday--of the earnest, affectionate nature
which was his--to re-peruse a passage such as this:--
"Again and again I attempt to say what I feel, but I cannot. Let me,
however, claim not to be that selfish being that wishes to bend your
affections for his own sake only. In whatever way I can best minister
to your happiness, either by assiduity or by absence, it shall be done.
Do not injure me by withdrawing your friendship, or punish me for
aiming to be more than a friend by making me less; and if you cannot
grant me more, leave me what I possess, but hear me."
Miss Barnard showed the letter from which this passage is quoted to
her father, whose reply was merely to the effect that "love made
philosophers into fools." Doubtful of her own decision on so momentous
a question as this, involving the life-long happiness of two persons,
Miss Barnard postponed making an immediate decision by accompanying
a married sister to Ramsgate. Faraday made up his mind "to run all
risks of a kind reception at Ramsgate." He went there, and after a
week of delightful holiday-making, returned to London on August the
7th, having won the consent of her for whom he had evinced so strong
a passion. Within twelve months (on June 12th, 1821), Michael Faraday
and Sarah Barnard were married, and took up their residence in the
Royal Institution. The union proved a perfect one, and a wedded life of
nearly half-a-century's duration and of unclouded love was the result.
From this time forward the kindliness, the affection, the love of home
and of those persons forming "home," which had been earlier so marked
in Faraday's letters to his mother, become even yet more marked in
the letters written to his wife any time between his marriage and his
death. Some of these we shall note as we come to treat of the period in
which they were written.
[Illustration:
_From a drawing by_] MRS. MICHAEL FARADAY. [_Alexander Blaikley_.]
The year 1820 was an important one to Faraday for other though less
significant reasons: in it his first paper was read before the
Royal Society, and he was also engaged with a Mr. Stodart, surgical
instrument maker, in experimenting on alloys of steel with a view to
improving its quality. For many years after, we are told, Faraday
used to present his friends with razors made of a particular alloy
discovered at this time. The paper embodying the results of these
experiments in alloys was duly published in the _Quarterly Journal of
Science_.
A description of our hero (for hero he was--one of our true "heroes
of peace"), written by a friend about the time of his marriage, is
interesting as assisting us to realise what manner of man he really
was in the flesh. "A young-looking man of about thirty years of age,
well made, and neat in his dress, his cheerfulness of disposition
often breaking out in a short crisp laugh, but thoughtful enough when
something important is to be done."
We find Faraday now a young man of thirty, happily married, with a
large circle of friends who are finding in him something of that genius
which year by year henceforward was to manifest itself; we find him
not only gaining the goodwill of these friends for his talents, but
gaining their affectionate regard by his unselfishness and unremitting
good nature. After their marriage in June, 1821, Mr. and Mrs. Faraday
took up their residence in the Institution, where they continued to
live for close upon forty years. Although fortune seemed thus to be
smiling upon Michael Faraday it must not be supposed that his position
at the Royal Institution was a highly remunerative one, his position
was yet nominally that of laboratory assistant, and the return which he
received for his services was a salary of one hundred pounds per annum,
a suite of rooms, and coal and gas.
One month after his marriage Faraday made his confession of sin and
profession of faith before the Sandemanian Church. It is characteristic
of his whole attitude towards religion, and the great and serious
regard which it demands from every _individual_, that when his wife
asked him why he had not told her what he was about to do, he simply
yet earnestly answered, "That is between me and my God." Truth in all
things was what he aimed at, and his whole life may be said to be a
seeking after truth in the various branches of knowledge; to half know
a thing was never sufficient for him, he could not rest there; he must
test its truth, and either cast it away, having proved it worthless,
or accept it with delight, having proved its truth. This is evidenced
in all his life-work, in his social intercourse no less than in his
scientific work, in his letters and journals no less than in his
lectures and published papers.
A circumstantial account has appeared in some of the newspapers of
Faraday's secession from the Sandemanian Church, and his penitent
return to it. Not having seen any reference to such a secession in the
biographies of Faraday I wrote to Miss Barnard, who in the following
note, most emphatically denies the truth of the story:--"Faraday
never seceded from the Church of which he became a member early in
life (1821). It is true that for a few weeks in 1844 there was a
cessation of his communion with this Church, but the reasons for this
were absolutely private, and had nothing to do with any conflict in
his mind between his faith in the Scriptures and his scientific work.
The statement is altogether without foundation, and neither the scene
described nor anything like it ever took place.
"_10 Aug., 1891._ JANE BARNARD."
[Illustration]