ABOUT THE ROYAL INSTITUTION.
"The heights by great men reached and kept
Were not attained by sudden flight,
But they, while their companions slept,
Were toiling upward in the night.
Standing on what too long we bore,
With shoulders bent and downcast eyes,
We may discern--unseen before--
A path to higher destinies.
Nor deem the irrevocable past
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If, rising on its wrecks, at last
To something nobler we attain."
LONGFELLOW.
The Royal Institution, which for so many years was "home" to Michael
Faraday, must ever remain intimately associated with his name. It
is not a hundred years since it was founded, yet its history is the
history of Sir Humphry Davy, Michael Faraday, and John Tyndall--or
perhaps it would be more correct to say that its history is in a large
measure a history of experimental research during the century. Before
regarding the Institution as it is especially connected with the
life-story of Michael Faraday, it may be well to just glance at its
origin.
Early in the year 1799 a party of noblemen and gentlemen met at the
house of Sir Joseph Banks for the purpose of forming themselves, at
the suggestion of Count Rumford, into a "Society for bettering the
condition of the poor." Count Rumford and his friends were most anxious
for the success of their undertaking; and having once made a start
did not remain idle, but in January, 1800, succeeded in having their
Society incorporated by Royal Charter. The Society started perhaps
on a somewhat narrower basis than that on which it now stands; its
original object was that it should be "an institution for diffusing
the knowledge, and facilitating the general introduction of useful
mechanical inventions and improvements; and for teaching by courses of
philosophical lectures and experiments, the application of science to
the common purposes of life."
In a guide to London published in the early part of the present
century, No. 21, Albemarle Street is thus referred to: "Here is also
the Society's house for the encouragement of improvements in arts and
manufactures, or the Royal Institution. The front of this house is
barricaded by double windows, to prevent the entrance of cold in winter
and heat in summer. Here is a room for experimental dinners, and a
kitchen fitted up on the late Count Rumford's plan. Adjoining this is a
large workshop, in which a number of coppersmiths, braziers, etc., are
employed, and over this a large room for the reception of such models
of machinery as may be presented to the Institution." It has been said
that chemistry dates one of its chief epochs from the foundation of the
Royal Institution laboratory.
The large building in Albemarle Street cannot be mistaken, for there
are along the front of it fourteen great fluted Corinthian columns
which give a striking appearance to the premises. These columns were
built on to the face of the building in 1838, at a cost of five hundred
pounds, by Mr. Lewis Vulliamy.
[Illustration:
_From photo by_] ROYAL INSTITUTION, ALBEMARLE STREET.
[_H. Dixon & Son_.]
That the Royal Institution is, indeed, well worth visiting it must be
quite unnecessary to say. Even was there not much to be seen which is
of itself interesting, the place would have an attraction as being the
place where so much has been done for the advancement of science by
Faraday, his predecessors, Davy, Rumford, and Brande, and by Tyndall,
and other successors.
[Illustration:
_From photo by_] LECTURE-THEATRE, ROYAL INSTITUTION.
[_H. Dixon & Son_.]
On entering the building we find ourselves in a lofty hall; in front of
us, at the head of a short flight of stone steps, is a large portrait
of Sir Humphry Davy, while to the right we see Foley's fine and
striking statue of Faraday, which was placed there as being the most
fitting memorial of the great man's connection with the Institution.
On going up the flight of steps to the right, we find ourselves in
the well-appointed library, where we are shown under a glass case a
beautiful little statuette of Faraday, and also a large photograph
portrait of the philosopher. We next visit the lecture-theatre, our
eyes being immediately drawn to the "seat over the clock," where
Michael Faraday as a boy first sat, and listened and marvelled at the
wonders of chemistry unfolded before him by the great Humphry Davy.
This theatre it may be noted is one of the best for its acoustic
properties in London. Well may we pause here--thinking of the great
men who have lectured here, and of the great men who have come here to
listen. It may be mentioned that the lectures are not strictly confined
to scientific subjects, for it was here, in 1812, that Thomas Campbell
gave his course of lectures on poetry, and that another poet--Thomas
Moore--was also invited to lecture.
From the lecture-theatre we are taken downstairs to see the room where
all the numerous instruments and materials are kept. Here we are shown
the primitive electrical machine, which Faraday early constructed
for himself, and many of the things which he used in his work; here,
too, we have pointed out to us a large glass-case running along one
side of the room, and divided into sections, each section containing
the tools and appliances used by one or other of the great men of the
Institution, Davy and Brande and Faraday himself. In several of the
smaller rooms through which we are permitted to pass, we notice among
the many portraits several of the subjects of this little work. And
among other interesting things especially pointed out to us there is
a locked glass-case "presented to the Royal Institution by Michael
and Sarah Faraday" (it was characteristic of Faraday thus to put
his wife in as one of the donors). This case contains several books
which Michael had himself bound in those days when, disliking trade,
he was seeking to enter the service of science. There are, besides,
several books of Davy's and several manuscripts of his also, which his
assistant had carefully kept.
And not only is the building worthy a visit on account of the many
interesting relics it contains of some of our greatest scientists,
and on account of the memoirs of its many great men, but even to the
unscientific there is much that is attractive in the Friday Evening
Lectures, which since that year 1826, when Faraday may be said to
have inaugurated them, up to now, have been regularly carried on. No
trouble is spared by the lecturers to make their matter understood,
and innumerable experiments are presented on these occasions. The
experiments, too, are such as often require a great expenditure of
time and trouble in their preparation. As an instance of this I may
mention an experiment which was made on the occasion of my latest
attendance at a "Friday evening." The lecturer was Professor Harold
Dixon; the subject of which he was treating was "The Rate of Explosion
of Gases." To show the rapidity with which an explosion of a certain
gas travelled, the lecturer had fitted up a leaden piping all round the
theatre; the ends of the piping rested upon either end of the table at
which Professor Dixon was lecturing. The piping was filled with gas,
and the Professor applied a light at one end; a sharp explosion took
place as the gas was fired, and was followed _almost instantaneously_
by an explosion at the other end of the pipe--the explosion having in
that very short time travelled through a length of two hundred and
twenty feet of piping! I quote this instance to show that no trouble
is spared in preparing an illustrative experiment, although such
experiment may be demonstrated in a minute or less.
It may be appropriate, while considering the long connection of Faraday
with the scene of his many experimental triumphs, to refer more
particularly to that unique meeting which took place last summer (June
8th, 1891) in celebration of the hundredth anniversary of the birth of
Faraday, and to which slight reference is made in the last chapter.
The meeting, appropriately enough, took the form of a gathering in
the theatre of the Royal Institution of many of the most able and
distinguished chemists of the day; Lord Rayleigh delivering an address
on the developments of Faraday's discoveries. The chair was taken by
His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, who referred in his opening
remarks to the time when he had sat in that theatre and listened to
Faraday himself. The letter from H.R.H., which is quoted on p. 131, was
read, as was also the following letter which the Prince wrote to Mrs.
Faraday on the occasion of her husband's death.
"Wiesbaden, September 10, 1867.
"Dear Mrs. Faraday,--Although I have not the pleasure of knowing you,
I cannot resist sending you a few lines to tell you how deeply grieved
and distressed I am to hear of the death of your husband, Professor
Faraday. Having had the great pleasure of knowing him for some years,
and having heard his interesting lectures when quite a boy, I can
fully appreciate how great the loss must be, not only to you, but
to the whole country at large, where his name was deeply venerated
by all classes. His name will not only be remembered as a great and
distinguished scientific man, but also as a good man, whose excellent
and amiable qualities were so universally known. Pardon my trespassing
so soon on your great grief, and believe me, dear Mrs. Faraday, yours
very sincerely,
"ALBERT EDWARD."
A very interesting yet pathetic letter was read from Dr. Tyndall,
which, coming as it did from a man who had so well known and so
thoroughly appreciated Faraday, is of great interest to us. "As Faraday
recedes from me in time," wrote Tyndall, "he becomes to me more and
more beautiful. Anything, therefore, calculated to do honour to his
memory must command my entire sympathy. But the utmost liberty I can
now allow myself is to be shifted from my bed to a couch, and wheeled
to a position near the window, from which I can see the bloom of the
gorse and the brown of the heather. Thus, considerations affecting
the body only present an insuperable barrier to my going to London on
Wednesday."
Not very far from Albemarle Street, is Blandford Street, where it will
be remembered Michael Faraday began the battle of life as a newsboy.
Mr. Riebau's shop (No. 2) is yet standing, and is still a stationer's
and bookseller's. Over the shop front is now to be observed a plaque,
on which are the simple words, "Michael Faraday, Man of Science,
apprentice here, 1791-1867." Professor Tyndall tells us of a pleasing
story of a visit which he paid with the ex-bookbinder to this scene
of his early labours. "Mr. Faraday and myself quitted the Institution
one evening together, to pay a visit in Baker Street. He took my arm
at the door, and pressing it to his side in his warm genial way, said,
'Come, Tyndall, I will now show you something that will interest
you.' We reached Blandford Street; and after a little looking about,
he paused before a stationer's shop, and then went in. On entering
the shop, his usual animation seemed doubled; he looked rapidly at
everything it contained. To the left on entering was a door, through
which he looked down into a little room, with a window in front facing
Blandford Street. Drawing me toward him, he said eagerly, 'Look there,
Tyndall, that was my working-place. I bound books in that little nook.'
A respectable-looking woman stood behind the counter; his conversation
with me was too low to be heard by her, and he now turned to the
counter to buy some cards as an excuse for our being there. He asked
the woman her name--her predecessor's name--his predecessor's name.
'That won't do,' he said, with good-humoured impatience; 'who was
his predecessor?' 'Mr. Riebau,' she replied, and immediately added,
as if suddenly recollecting herself, 'He, sir, was the master of Sir
Charles Faraday!' 'Nonsense!' he responded, 'there is no such person!'
Great was her delight when I told her the name of her visitor; but
she assured me that as soon as she saw him running about the shop,
she felt--though she did not know why--that it must be _Sir Charles
Faraday_!"
Turning to our right on coming out of No. 2, Blandford Street, we
shall notice on the opposite side of the way a small turning down under
an archway. That turning is the beginning of Jacob's Well Mews, where
the Faraday family lived, and of which an illustration has been given
on an earlier page of this book. The place is interesting and worthy
of a visit, as showing us that however poor and unpromising may be
the surroundings of a man's childhood, he may yet win for himself an
enduring name, as has Michael Faraday, not only in the annals of his
own country, but in those of knowledge--whose annals are concerned not
with one, but with all countries.
A most interesting and pleasant trip, too, may be taken to Hampton
Court Green, where a visit can be paid to the house, the use of which
Her Majesty the Queen so kindly gave to the Professor, and where he
passed the greater part of the last ten years of his life. Of the very
many visitors to the famous palace and gardens of Hampton Court, there
are, I fear, not a very large proportion who notice the charming little
house facing the Green, and not far from the entrance to the Palace
where the Professor lived. "Faraday House," however, appears much
the same as it did when he whose name it now bears was living there.
With its front all overgrown with ivy and Virginian creeper, with its
creeper-bowered archway from the gate to the front door, with its trees
and shrubs all along the front, and with its view across the Green to
the trees in the Palace grounds beyond, the old-fashioned house has a
delightful aspect, and seems indeed an ideal spot to which a man of
Faraday's simple, unpretentious, yet nature-loving character, could
retire after a long life of arduous and useful work.
The following "in memoriam" poem, which appeared in the pages of
_Punch_ shortly after Faraday's death, so beautifully sums up much
of the man's life and character, that it may be fittingly quoted as
a conclusion to this short account of the life of the illustrious
philosopher, a life which must impress all who have studied it as one
of the purest and most unselfish of which we have any record.
"Statesmen and soldiers, authors, artists,--still
The topmost leaves fall off our English oak:
Some in green summer's prime, some in the chill
Of autumn-tide, some by late winter's stroke.
Another leaf has dropped on that sere heap--
One that hung highest; earliest to invite
The golden kiss of morn, and last to keep
The fire of eve--but still turned to the light.
No soldier's, statesman's, poet's, painter's name
Was this, through which is drawn death's last black line;
But one of rarer, if not loftier fame--
A priest of Truth, who lived within her shrine.
A priest of Truth: his office to expound
Earth's mysteries to all who willed to hear--
Who in the book of science sought and found,
With love, that knew all reverence, but no fear.
A priest who prayed as well as ministered:
Who grasped the faith he preached, and held it fast:
Knowing the light he followed never stirred,
Howe'er might drive the clouds through which it past.
And if Truth's priest, servant of Science too,
Whose work was wrought for love and not for gain:
Not one of those who serve but to ensue
Their private profit: lordship to attain
Over their lord, and bind him in green withes,
For grinding at the mill 'neath rod and cord;
Of the large grist that they may take their tithes--
So some serve Science that call Science lord.
One rule his life was fashioned to fulfil:
That he who tends Truth's shrine, and does the hest
Of Science, with a humble, faithful will,
The God of Truth and Knowledge serveth best.
And from his humbleness what heights he won!
By slow march of induction, pace on pace,
Scaling the peaks that seem to strike the sun,
Whence few can look, unblinded, in his face.
Until he reached the stand which they that win
A bird's-eye glance o'er Nature's realm may throw;
Whence the mind's ken by larger sweeps takes in
What seems confusion, looked at from below.
Till out of seeming chaos order grows,
In ever-widening orbs of law restrained,
And the Creation's mighty music flows
In perfect harmony, serene, sustained;
And from varieties of force and power,
A larger unity and larger still,
Broadens to view, till in some breathless hour
All force is known, grasped in a central Will,
Thunder and light revealed as one same strength--
Modes of the force that works at Nature's heart--
And through the Universe's veinèd length
Bids, wave on wave, mysterious pulses dart.
That cosmic heart-beat it was his to list,
To trace those pulses in their ebb and flow
Towards the fountain-head, where they subsist
In form as yet not given e'en _him_ to know.
Yet, living face to face with these great laws,
Great truths, great myst'ries, all who saw him near
Knew him for childlike, simple, free from flaws
Of temper, full of love that casts out fear:
Untired in charity, of cheer serene;
Not caring world's wealth or good word to earn;
Childhood's or manhood's ear content to win;
And still as glad to teach as meek to learn.
Such lives are precious: not so much for all
Of wider insight won where they have striven,
As for the still small voice with which they call
Along the beamy way from earth to heaven."
THE END.
LONDON: KNIGHT, PRINTER, MIDDLE STREET, ALDERSGATE, E.C.
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Footnotes have been moved to the end of each chapter and renumbered
consecutively through the document.
Illustrations have been moved to paragraph breaks near where they are
discussed.
[oe] changed to oe: p. 97 (Phoebus), p. 136 (Cyclopoedia in 2 places)
Punctuation has been made consistent.
Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in
the original publication.
Changes have been made as follows:
Page 135: "whe" changed to "who" (anyone who claimed his attention)
Page 157: "precedessor" changed to to "predecessor" (predecessor?' 'Mr.
Riebau,)
Page 158: "virginian" changed to "Virginian" (with ivy and Virginian
creeper)