The work of Michael Faraday introduced a new era in the history of
physical science. Unencumbered by pre-existing theories, and
untrammelled by the methods of the mathematician, he set forth on a
line of his own, and, while engaged in the highest branches of
experimental research, he sought to explain his results by reference
to the most elementary mechanical principles only. Hence it was that
those conclusions which had been obtained by mathematicians only by
the help of advanced analytical methods, and which were expressed by
them only in the language of the integral calculus, Faraday achieved
without any such artificial aids to thought, and expressed in simple
language, having reference to the mechanism which he conceived to be
the means by which such results were brought about. For a long time
Faraday's methods were regarded by mathematicians with something more
than suspicion, and, while they could not but admire his experimental
skill and were compelled to admit the accuracy of his conclusions, his
mode of thought differed too widely from that to which they were
accustomed to command their assent. In Sir William Thomson, and in
Clerk Maxwell, Faraday at length found interpreters between him and
the mathematical world, and to the mathematician perhaps the greatest
monument of the genius of Faraday is the "Electricity and Magnetism"
of Clerk Maxwell.
Michael Faraday was born at Newington, Surrey, on September 22, 1791,
and was the third of four children. His father, James Faraday, was the
son of Robert and Elizabeth Faraday, of Clapham Wood Hall, in the
north-west of Yorkshire, and was brought up as a blacksmith. He was
the third of ten children, and, in 1786, married Margaret Hastwell, a
farmer's daughter. Soon after his marriage he came to London, where
Michael was born. In 1796 James Faraday, with his family, moved from
Newington, and took rooms over a coach-house in Jacob's Well Mews,
Charles Street, Manchester Square. In looking at this humble abode one
can scarcely help thinking that the Yorkshire blacksmith and his
little family would have been far happier in a country "smiddy" near
his native moors than in a crowded London court; but, had he remained
there, it is difficult to see how the genius of young Michael could
have met with the requisites for its development.
James Faraday was far from enjoying good health, and his illness
often necessitated his absence from work, and, as a consequence, his
family were frequently in very straitened circumstances. The early
education of Michael was, therefore, not of a very high order, and
consisted "of little more than the rudiments of reading, writing, and
arithmetic." Like most boys in a similar position in London, he found
his amusement for the most part in the streets, but, except that in
his games at marbles we may assume that he played with other boys, we
have no evidence whether his time was spent mostly by himself, or
whether he was one of a "set" of street companions.
In 1804, when thirteen years of age, Michael Faraday went as
errand-boy to Mr. Geo. Riebau, a bookseller in Blandford Street. Part
of his duty in this capacity was to carry round papers lent on hire by
his master, and in his "Life of Faraday," Dr. Bence Jones tells how
anxious the young errand-boy was to collect his papers on Sunday
morning in time to attend the Sandemanian service with the other
members of his family.
Faraday was apprenticed to Mr. Riebau on October 7, 1805, and learned
the business of a bookbinder. He occasionally occupied his spare time
in reading the scientific books he had to bind, and was particularly
interested in Mrs. Marcet's "Conversations in Chemistry," and in the
article on "Electricity" in the "Encyclopaedia Britannica." These were
days before the existence of the London Society for the Extension of
University Teaching, and, though Professor Anderson in Glasgow had
shown how the advantages of a university might be extended to those
whose fortunes prevented them from becoming regular university
students, Professor Stuart had not yet taught the English universities
that they had responsibilities outside their own borders, and that the
national universities of the future must be the teachers of all
classes of the community. But private enterprise supplied in a measure
the neglect of public bodies. Mr. Tatum, of 43, Dorset Street, Fleet
Street, advertised a course of lectures on natural philosophy, to be
delivered at his residence at eight o'clock in the evenings. The price
of admission was high, being a shilling for each lecture, but
Michael's brother Robert frequently supplied him with the money, and
in attending these lectures Faraday made many friendships which were
valuable to him afterwards.
Faraday appears to have been aware of the value of skill in drawing--a
point to which much attention has recently been called by those
interested in technical education--and he spent some portion of his
time in studying perspective, so as to be better able to illustrate
his notes of Mr. Tatum's lectures, as well as of some of Sir Humphry
Davy's, which he was enabled to hear at the Royal Institution through
the kindness of a customer at Mr. Riebau's shop.
In 1812, before the end of his apprenticeship, Faraday was engaged in
experiments with voltaic batteries of his own construction. Having
cut out seven discs of zinc the size of halfpence, and covered them
with seven halfpence, he formed a pile by inserting pieces of paper
soaked in common salt between each pair, and found that the pile so
constructed was capable of decomposing Epsom salts. With a somewhat
larger pile he decomposed copper sulphate and lead acetate, and made
some experiments on the decomposition of water. On July 21, 1812, in
writing to his friend Abbott, he mentions the movements of camphor
when floating on water, and adds, "Science may be illustrated by those
minute actions and effects, almost as much as by more evident and
obvious phenomena.... My knife is so bad that I cannot mend my pen
with it; it is now covered with copper, having been employed to
precipitate that metal from the muriatic acid."
Something of Faraday's disposition, as well as of the results of his
self-education, may be gathered from the following quotations from
letters to Abbott, written at this time:--
I have again gone over your letter, but am so blinded that I
cannot see any subject except chlorine to write on; but before
entering on what I intend shall fill up the letter, I will ask
your pardon for having maintained an opinion against one who was
so ready to give his own up. I suspect from that circumstance I
am wrong.... In the present case I conceive that experiments may
be divided into three classes: first, those which are for the
old theory of oxymuriatic acid, and consequently oppose the new
one; second, those which are for the new one, and oppose the old
theory; and third, those which can be explained by both
theories--apparently so only, for in reality a false theory can
never explain a fact.
It is not for me to affirm that I am right and you wrong;
speaking impartially, I can as well say that I am wrong and you
right, or that we both are wrong and a third right. I am not so
self-opinionated as to suppose that my judgment and perception
in this or other matters is better or clearer than that of other
persons; nor do I mean to affirm that this is the true theory in
reality, but only that my judgment conceives it to be so.
Judgments sometimes oppose each other, as in this case; and as
there cannot be two opposing facts in nature, so there cannot be
two opposing truths in the intellectual world. Consequently,
when judgments oppose, one must be wrong--one must be false; and
mine may be so for aught I can tell. I am not of a superior
nature to estimate exactly the strength and correctness of my
own and other men's understanding, and will assure you, dear
A----, that I am far from being convinced that my own is always
right. I have given you the theory--not as the true one, but as
the one which appeared true to me--and when I perceive errors in
it, I will immediately renounce it, in part or wholly, as my
judgment may direct. From this, dear friend, you will see that I
am very open to conviction; and from the manner in which I
shall answer your letter, you will also perceive that I must be
convinced before I renounce.
On October 7, 1812, Faraday's apprenticeship terminated, and
immediately afterwards he started life as a journeyman bookbinder. He
now found that he had less time at his disposal for scientific work
than he had enjoyed when an apprentice, and his desire to give up his
trade and enter fully upon scientific pursuits became stronger than
ever. During his apprenticeship he had written to Sir Joseph Banks,
then President of the Royal Society, in the hope of obtaining some
scientific employment; he now applied to Sir Humphry Davy. In a letter
written to Dr. Paris, in 1829, Faraday gave an account of this
application.
"My desire to escape from trade, which I thought vicious and selfish,
and to enter into the service of science, which I imagined made its
pursuers amiable and liberal, induced me at last to take the bold and
simple step of writing to Sir H. Davy, expressing my wishes, and a
hope that, if an opportunity came in his way, he would favour my
views; at the same time, I sent the notes I had taken of his lectures.
"The answer, which makes all the point of my communication, I send you
in the original, requesting you to take great care of it, and to let
me have it back, for you may imagine how much I value it.
"You will observe that this took place at the end of the year 1812;
and early in 1813 he requested to see me, and told me of the situation
of assistant in the laboratory of the Royal Institution, then just
vacant.
"At the same time that he thus gratified my desires as to scientific
employment, he still advised me not to give up the prospects I had
before me, telling me that Science was a harsh mistress, and, in a
pecuniary point of view, but poorly rewarding those who devoted
themselves to her service. He smiled at my notion of the superior
moral feelings of philosophic men, and said he would leave me to the
experience of a few years to set me right on that matter.
"Finally, through his good efforts, I went to the Royal Institution,
early in March of 1813, as assistant in the laboratory; and in October
of the same year went with him abroad, as his assistant in experiments
and in writing. I returned with him in April, 1815, resumed my station
in the Royal Institution, and have, as you know, ever since remained
there."