Chapter I: Early Life, Training, and Travel

On the 22nd of September, 1791, was born, at Newington Butts, then an outlying Surrey village, but since long surrounded and swallowed up within the area of Greater London, the boy Michael Faraday. He was the third child of his parents, James and Margaret Faraday, who had but recently migrated to London from the little Yorkshire village of Clapham. Clapham lies under the shadow of Ingleborough, on the western border of the county, midway between Settle and Kirkby Lonsdale. The father, James Faraday, was a working blacksmith; the mother, daughter of a farmer of Mallerstang, the romantic valley which runs past Pendragon Castle to Kirkby Stephen. James Faraday was one of the ten children of a Robert Faraday, who in 1756 had married Elizabeth Dean, the owner of a small homestead known as Clapham Wood Hall, since pulled down. All Robert Faraday’s sons appear to have been brought up to trades, one being a shoemaker, another a grocer, another a farmer, another a flax-worker, and another a shopkeeper. Descendants of some of these still live in the district.

After Michael’s birth, his parents moved to the north side of the Thames, living for a short time in Gilbert Street, but removing in 1796 to rooms over a coach-house in Jacob’s Well Mews, Charles Street, Manchester Square, where they lived till 1809. In that year, young Michael being now nearly eighteen years old, they moved to 18, Weymouth Street, Portland Place. Here in the succeeding year James Faraday, who had long been an invalid, died; his widow, who for some years remained on at Weymouth Street, maintaining herself by taking in lodgers until her sons could support themselves and her, survived till 1838. Though a capable woman and a good mother, she was quite uneducated. In her declining years she was wholly supported by her son, of whom she was very proud, and to whom she was devoted.

Michael received very little schooling. One of his nephews tells the following tale of his boyhood. He was at a dame’s school; and, either from some defect in his speech or because he was too young to articulate his _r_’s properly, he pronounced his elder brother’s name “Wobert.” The harsh schoolmistress, bent on curing the defect by personal chastisement, sent the aforesaid “Wobert” out with a halfpenny to get a cane, that young Michael might be duly flogged. But this refinement of cruelty reacted on itself; for Robert, boiling with indignation, pitched the halfpenny over a wall, and went home to tell his mother, who promptly came down to the scene of action and removed both boys from the school. From the age of five to thirteen Michael lived at Jacob’s Well Mews, spending his out-of-school hours at home or in the streets playing at marbles and other games with the children of the neighbourhood.

[Sidenote: BOOKBINDER’S ERRAND-BOY.]

In 1804 he went on trial for twelve months as errand-boy to a bookseller and stationer at No. 2, Blandford Street--Mr. George Riebau. This house, which is still kept as a stationer’s shop (by Mr. William Pike), is now marked with an enamelled tablet recording its connection with the life of Faraday.[1] When he first went to Mr. Riebau, it was his duty to carry round the newspapers in the morning. He has been graphically described as a bright-eyed errand-boy who “slid along the London pavements, with a load of brown curls upon his head and a packet of newspapers under his arm.” Some of the journals were lent out, and had to be called for again. He was very particular on Sunday mornings to take them round early, that he might complete his work in time to go with his parents to their place of worship. They belonged--as his grandfather before him--to the sect known as Sandemanians, a small body which separated from the Presbyterian Church of Scotland towards the middle of the eighteenth century. Their views, which were very primitive, were held with intense earnestness and sincerity of purpose. Their founder had taught that Christianity never was or could be the formal or established religion of any nation without subverting its essential principles; that religion was the affair of the individual soul; and that “the Bible” alone, with nothing added to it or taken away from it by man, was the sole and sufficient guide for the soul. They rejected all priests or paid ministers, but recognised an institution of unpaid eldership. Their worship was exceedingly simple. Though their numbers were few, they were exceedingly devout, simple, and exclusive in their faith. Doubtless the rigorous moral influences pervading the family and friends of James Faraday had a great part in moulding the character of young Michael. To his dying day he remained a member of this obscure sect. As he was no merely nominal adherent, but an exceedingly devoted member, and at two different periods of his life an elder and a preacher, no review of his life-work would be complete without a fuller reference to the religious side of his character.

[Sidenote: APPRENTICED AS BOOKBINDER.]

After the year of trial, Michael Faraday was formally apprenticed to learn the arts of bookbinder, stationer, “and bookseller,” to Mr. Riebau. The indenture[2] is dated October 7, 1805. It is stated that, “in consideration of his faithful service, no premium is given.” During his seven years of apprenticeship there came unexpected opportunities for self-improvement. Faraday’s lifelong friend and co-religionist, Cornelius Varley, says:--“When my attention was first drawn to Faraday, I was told that he had been apprenticed to a bookbinder. I said he was the best bookworm for eating his way to the inside; for hundreds had worked at books only as so much printed paper. Faraday saw a mine of knowledge, and resolved to explore it.” To one of his friends he said that a book by Watts, “On the Mind,” first made him think, and that the article on “Electricity” in a cyclopædia which came into his hands to be bound first turned his attention to science. He himself wrote:--“Whilst an apprentice I loved to read the scientific books which were under my hand; and, amongst them, delighted in Marcet’s ‘Conversations in Chemistry’ and the electrical treatises in the ‘Encyclopædia Britannica.’ I made such simple experiments in chemistry as could be defrayed in their expense by a few pence per week, and also constructed an electrical machine, first with a glass phial, and afterwards with a real cylinder, as well as other electrical apparatus of a corresponding kind.” This early machine[3] is now preserved at the Royal Institution, to which it was presented by Sir James South. Amongst the books which he had to bind were Lyons’ “Experiments on Electricity” and Boyle’s “Notes about the Producibleness of Chymicall Principles,” which books, together with Miss Burney’s “Evelina,” all bound with his own hands, are still preserved in the Royal Institution.

[Sidenote: NEW ACQUAINTANCES.]

Walking near Fleet Street, he saw displayed a bill announcing that evening lectures on natural philosophy were delivered by Mr. Tatum at 53, Dorset Street, Salisbury Square, E.C., price of admission one shilling. With his master’s permission, and money furnished by his elder brother Robert, who was a blacksmith and (later) a gasfitter, Michael began to taste scientific teaching. Between February, 1810, and September, 1811, he attended some twelve or thirteen lectures. He made full and beautiful notes of all he heard: his notebooks, bound by himself, being still preserved. At these lectures he fell in with several thoroughly congenial comrades, one of them, by name Benjamin Abbott, being a well-educated young Quaker, who was confidential clerk in a mercantile house in the City. Of the others--amongst whom were Magrath, Newton, Nicol, Huxtable, and Richard Phillips (afterwards F.R.S. and President of the Chemical Society)--several remained lifelong friends. Happily for posterity, the letters--long and chatty--which the lad wrote in the fulness of his heart to Abbott have been preserved; they are published in Bence Jones’s “Life and Letters.” They are remarkable not only for their vivacity and freshness but for their elevated tone and excellent composition--true specimens of the lost art of letter-writing. The most wonderful thing about them is that they should have been written by a bookbinder’s apprentice of no education beyond the common school of the district. In his very first letter he complains that ideas and notions which spring up in his mind “are irrevocably lost for want of noting at the time.” This seems the first premonition of that loss of memory which so afflicted him in after life. In his later years he always carried in his waistcoat pocket a card on which to jot down notes and memoranda. He would stop to set down his notes in the street, in the theatre, or in the laboratory.

Riebau, his master in the bookbinding business, seems, from the way he encouraged the studies of his young apprentice, to have been no ordinary man. His name would suggest a foreign extraction; and to his shop resorted more than one political refugee. There lodged at one time at Riebau’s an artist named Masquerier,[4] who had painted Napoleon’s portrait and had fled from France during the troublous times. For the apprentice boy, who used to dust his room and black his boots, Masquerier took a strong liking. He lent him books on perspective and taught him how to draw. Another frequenter of Riebau’s shop was a Mr. Dance, whose interest in the industry and intelligence of the apprentice led him to an act which changed the whole destiny of his life. Faraday himself, in the very few autobiographical notes which he penned, wrote thus:--

During my apprenticeship I had the good fortune, through the
kindness of Mr. Dance, who was a customer of my master’s shop
and also a member of the Royal Institution, to hear four of the
last lectures of Sir H. Davy in that locality.[5] The dates
of these lectures were February 29, March 14, April 8 and 10,
1812. Of these I made notes, and then wrote out the lectures in
a fuller form, interspersing them with such drawings as I could
make. The desire to be engaged in scientific occupation, even
though of the lowest kind, induced me, whilst an apprentice,
to write, in my ignorance of the world and simplicity of my
mind, to Sir Joseph Banks, then President of the Royal Society.
Naturally enough, “No answer” was the reply left with the
porter.

[Sidenote: LETTERS TO ABBOTT.]

He submitted his notes to the criticism of his friend Abbott, with whom he discussed chemical and electrical problems, and the experiments which they had individually tried. Out of this correspondence, one letter only can be given; it was written September 28, 1812, ten days before the expiry of his apprenticeship:--

Dear A----, ... I will hurry on to philosophy, where I am a
little more sure of my ground. Your card was to me a very
interesting and pleasing object. I was highly gratified in
observing so plainly delineated the course of the electric
fluid or fluids (I do not know which). It appears to me that by
making use of a card thus prepared, you have hit upon a happy
illustrating medium between a conductor and a non-conductor;
had the interposed medium been a conductor, the electricity
would have passed in connection through it--it would not have
been divided; had the medium been a non-conductor, it would
have passed in connection, and undivided, as a spark over
it, but by this varying and disjoined conductor it has been
divided most effectually. Should you pursue this point at
any time still further, it will be necessary to ascertain by
what particular power or effort the spark is divided, whether
by its affinity to the conductor or by its own repulsion; or
if, as I have no doubt is the case, by the joint action of
these two forces, it would be well to observe and ascertain
the proportion of each in the effect. There are problems,
the solution of which will be difficult to obtain, but the
science of electricity will not be complete without them;
and a philosopher will aim at perfection, though he may not
hit it--difficulties will not retard him, but only cause a
proportionate exertion of his mental faculties.

I had a very pleasing view of the planet Saturn last week
through a refractor with a power of ninety. I saw his ring
very distinctly; ’tis a singular appendage to a planet, to
a revolving globe, and I should think caused some peculiar
phenomena to the planet within it. I allude to their mutual
action with respect to meteorology and perhaps electricity....

The master, a French emigré named De la Roche, of King Street, Portman Square, to whom he engaged himself as a journeyman bookbinder, was of a very passionate disposition, and made Faraday very uncomfortable. He longed to get out of trade, and under the encouragement of Mr. Dance he wrote to Sir Humphry Davy, sending, “as a proof of my earnestness,” the notes he had taken of Davy’s last four lectures. Faraday’s letter, which has been preserved but never published, is an astounding example of the high-flown cringing style in vogue at that date. Davy’s reply was favourable, and led to a temporary engagement of some days as amanuensis at the time when he was wounded in the eye by an explosion of the chloride of nitrogen. Faraday himself, nearly twenty years afterwards, wrote[6] a full account of the circumstances.

[_M. Faraday to Dr. J. A. Paris._]

Royal Institution, December 23, 1829.

MY DEAR SIR,--You asked me to give you an account of my first
introduction to Sir H. Davy, which I am very happy to do, as I
think the circumstances will bear testimony to his goodness of
heart.

When I was a bookseller’s apprentice, I was very fond of
experiment and very adverse to trade. It happened that a
gentleman, a member of the Royal Institution, took me to hear
some of Sir H. Davy’s last lectures in Albemarle Street. I took
notes, and afterwards wrote them out more fairly in a quarto
volume.

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.

I am, dear Sir, very truly yours,
M. FARADAY.

[Sidenote: WINS FAVOUR WITH DAVY.]

The following is Davy’s note:--

_Mr. P. Faraday, 188, Weymouth St., Portland Place._

December 24, 1812.

SIR,--I am far from displeased with the proof you have given
me of your confidence, and which displays great zeal, power
of memory, and attention. I am obliged to go out of Town, and
shall not be settled in town till the end of Jan^y I will then
see you at any time you wish. It would gratify me to be of any
service to you; I wish it may be in my power.

I am Sir
your obt. humble servt.
H. DAVY.

Accordingly, Faraday called on Davy, who received him in the anteroom to the lecture theatre, by the window nearest to the corridor. He advised him then to stick to bookbinding, promising to send him books from the Institution to bind, as well as other books. He must have been agreeably impressed, otherwise he would not, when disabled, have sent for Faraday to write for him. Early in 1813 the humble household, in which Faraday lived with his widowed mother in Weymouth Street, was one night startled by the apparition of Sir Humphry Davy’s grand coach, from which a footman alighted and knocked loudly at the door. For young Faraday, who was at that moment undressing upstairs, he left a note from Sir Humphry Davy requesting him to call next morning. At that interview Davy asked him whether he was still desirous of changing his occupation, and offered him the post of assistant in the laboratory in place of one who had been dismissed. The salary was to be twenty-five shillings a week, with two rooms at the top of the house. The minute appointing him is dated March 1, 1813:--

[Sidenote: ENTERS ROYAL INSTITUTION.]

Sir Humphry Davy has the honour to inform the managers that
he has found a person who is desirous to occupy the situation
in the Institution lately filled by William Payne. His name
is Michael Faraday. He is a youth of twenty-two years of age.
As far as Sir H. Davy has been able to observe or ascertain,
he appears well fitted for the situation. His habits seem
good, his disposition active and cheerful, and his manner
intelligent. He is willing to engage himself on the same
terms as those given to Mr. Payne at the time of quitting the
Institution.

Resolved--That Michael Faraday be engaged to fill the situation
lately occupied by Mr. Payne on the same terms.[7]

There have come down several additions to the story. One, probably apocryphal, says that Faraday’s first introduction to Davy was occasioned by Davy’s calling at Riebau’s to select some bookbinding, and seeing on the shelves the bound volume of manuscript notes of his own lectures. The other was narrated by Gassiot to Tyndall, as follows:--

Clapham Common, Surrey,
November 28, 1867.

MY DEAR TYNDALL,--Sir H. Davy was accustomed to call on the
late Mr. Pepys in the Poultry, on his way to the London
Institution, of which Pepys was one of the original managers;
the latter told me that on one occasion Sir H. Davy, showing
him a letter, said, “Pepys, what am I to do?--here is a letter
from a young man named Faraday; he has been attending my
lectures, and wants me to give him employment at the Royal
Institution--what can I do?” “Do?” replied Pepys, “put him
to wash bottles; if he is good for anything he will do it
directly; if he refuses, he is good for nothing.” “No, no,”
replied Davy, “we must try him with something better than
that.” The result was, that Davy engaged him to assist in the
Laboratory at weekly wages.

Davy held the joint office of Professor of Chemistry and
Director of the Laboratory; he ultimately gave up the former to
the late Professor Brande, but he insisted that Faraday should
be appointed Director of the Laboratory, and, as Faraday told
me, this enabled him on subsequent occasions to hold a definite
position in the Institution, in which he was always supported
by Davy. I believe he held that office to the last.

Believe me, my dear Tyndall, yours truly,
J. P. GASSIOT.

In 1808 Mr. Tatum had founded a City Philosophical Society.[8] It consisted of thirty or forty young men in humble or moderate rank, who met on Wednesdays for mutual instruction; lectures being given once a fortnight by the members in turn. Tatum introduced Faraday to this Society in 1813. Edward Magrath was secretary. Amongst Faraday’s notes of his life is the following:--

During this spring Magrath and I established the
mutual-improvement plan, and met at my rooms up in the attics
of the Royal Institution, or at Wood Street at his warehouse.
It consisted perhaps of half-a-dozen persons, chiefly from
the City Philosophical Society, who met of an evening to read
together, and to criticise, correct, and improve each other’s
pronunciation and construction of language. The discipline was
very sturdy, the remarks very plain and open, and the results
most valuable. This continued for several years.

[Sidenote: AT WORK IN CHEMISTRY.]

He writes, after a week of work at the Royal Institution, to Abbott:--

Royal Institution, March 8, 1813.

It is now about nine o’clock, and the thought strikes me that
the tongues are going both at Tatum’s and at the lecture in
Bedford Street; but I fancy myself much better employed than
I should have been at the lecture at either of those places.
Indeed, I have heard one lecture already to-day, and had a
finger in it (I can’t say a hand, for I did very little). It
was by Mr. Powell, on mechanics, or rather on rotatory motion,
and was a pretty good lecture, but not very fully attended.

As I know you will feel a pleasure in hearing in what I have
been or shall be occupied, I will inform you that I have been
employed to-day, in part, in extracting the sugar from a
portion of beetroot, and also in making a compound of sulphur
and carbon--a combination which has lately occupied in a
considerable degree the attention of chemists.

With respect to next Wednesday, I shall be occupied until late
in the afternoon by Sir H. Davy, and must therefore decline
seeing you at that time; this I am the more ready to do as I
shall enjoy your company next Sunday, and hope to possess it
often in a short time.

The next letter to Abbott, dated April 9, recounts an explosion in which both he and Sir Humphry Davy received considerable injury. In June he wrote to Abbott four very remarkable letters concerning lectures and lecturers. He had already heard Tatum and Davy, and had now assisted Brande and Powell in their lectures, and had keenly observed their habits, peculiarities, and defects, as well as the effects they produced on the audience. He writes without the slightest suspicion of suggestion that he himself has any likelihood of becoming a lecturer, and says that he does not pretend to any of the requisites for such an office. “If I am unfit for it,” he says, “’tis evident that I have yet to learn; and how learn better than by the observation of others? If we never judge at all, we shall never judge right.” “I, too, have inducements in the C[ity] P[hilosophical] S[ociety] to draw me forward in the acquisition of a small portion of knowledge on this point.” “I shall point out but few beauties or few faults that I have not witnessed in the presence of a numerous assembly.”

He begins by considering the proper shape of a lecture-room; its proper ventilation, and need of suitable entrances and exits. Then he goes on to consider suitability of subjects and dignity of subject. In the second of the letters he contrasts the perceptive powers of the eye and ear, and the proper arrangements for a lecturer’s table; then considers diagrams and illustrations. The third letter deals with the delivery and style of the lecture, the manner and attitudes of the lecturer, his methods of keeping alive the attention of the audience, and duration of the discourse. In the fourth of these letters (see p. 228), he dwells on the mistakes and defects of lecturers, their unnecessary apologies, the choice of apt experiments, and avoidance of trivialities.

[Sidenote: PROPOSALS FOR FOREIGN TRAVEL.]

In September, 1813, after but six months of work in the laboratory, a proposition came to him from Sir Humphry Davy which resulted in a complete change of scene. It was an episode of foreign travel, lasting, as it proved, eighteen months. In the autobiographical notes he wrote:--

In the autumn Sir H. Davy proposed going abroad, and offered
me the opportunity of going with him as his amanuensis, and
the promise of resuming my situation in the Institution upon
my return to England. Whereupon I accepted the offer, left the
Institution on October 13, and, after being with Sir H. Davy in
France, Italy, Switzerland, the Tyrol, Geneva, &c., in that and
the following year, returned to England and London April 23,
1815.

Before he left England, on September 18, 1813, at the request of his mother, he wrote to an uncle and aunt the following account of himself:--

I was formerly a bookseller and binder, but am now turned
philosopher, which happened thus:--Whilst an apprentice, I,
for amusement, learnt a little of chemistry and other parts
of philosophy, and felt an eager desire to proceed in that
way further. After being a journeyman for six months, under
a disagreeable master, I gave up my business, and, by the
interest of Sir H. Davy, filled the situation of chemical
assistant to the Royal Institution of Great Britain, in
which office I now remain, and where I am constantly engaged
in observing the works of Nature and tracing the manner in
which she directs the arrangement and order of the world. I
have lately had proposals made to me by Sir Humphry Davy to
accompany him, in his travels through Europe and into Asia, as
philosophical assistant. If I go at all I expect it will be
in October next, about the end, and my absence from home will
perhaps be as long as three years. But as yet all is uncertain.
I have to repeat that, even though I may go, my path will not
pass near any of my relations, or permit me to see those whom I
so much long to see.

To Faraday, who was now twenty-two years old, foreign travel meant much more than to most young men of equal age. With his humble bringing up and slender resources, he had never had the chance of seeing the outside world; he had never, to his own recollection, even seen the sea. When on Wednesday, October 13, he started out on the journey to Plymouth, in order to cross to the port of Morlaix, he began his journal of foreign travel thus:--

This morning formed a new epoch in my life. I have never
before, within my recollection, left London at a greater
distance than twelve miles.

[Sidenote: A NEW ELEMENT.]

This journal he kept with minute care, with the sole purpose of recalling events to his mind. It gives full details as to Davy’s scientific friends and work, intermingled with graphic descriptions of scenery; and is remarkable also for its personal reticence. As with many another, so with Faraday, foreign travel took in his life the place of residence at a University. In France, in Italy, he received enlarged ideas; and what he saw of learned men and academies of science exercised no small formative effect upon one then at the most impressionable age. He comments gaily on the odd incidents of travel; the luminescence of the sea at night; the amazing fuss at the Custom House; the postilion with his jack-boots, whip, and pouch; the glow-worm (the first glow-worm he had ever seen); and the slim pigs of Normandy. At Paris he visits the Louvre, where his chief comment on its treasures is, that by their acquisition France has made herself “a nation of thieves.” He goes to the Prefecture of Police for his passport, in which he is described as having “a round chin, a brown beard, a large mouth, a great nose,” etc. He visits the churches, where the theatrical air pervading the place “makes it impossible to attach a serious or important feeling to what is going on.” He comments on the wood fires, the charcoal used in cooking, the washerwomen on the river bank, the internal decorations of houses, the printing of the books. Then he goes about with Davy amongst the French chemists. Ampère, Clément, and Désormes come to Davy to show him the new and strange substance “X,” lately discovered by M. Courtois. They heat it, and behold it rise in vapour of a beautiful violet colour. Ampère himself, on November 23rd, gives Davy a specimen. They carefully note down its characters. Davy and his assistant make many new experiments on it. At first its origin is kept a profound secret by the Frenchman. Then it transpires that it is made from ashes of seaweed. They work on it at Chevreul’s laboratory. Faraday borrows a voltaic pile from Chevreul. With that intuition which was characteristic of him, Davy jumps almost at once to a conclusion as to the nature of the new body, which for nearly two years had been in the hands of the Frenchmen awaiting elucidation. When he leaves Paris, they do not wholly bless his rapidity of thought. But Faraday has seen--with placid indifference--a glimpse of the great Napoleon “sitting in one corner of his carriage, covered and almost hidden by an enormous robe of ermine, and his face overshadowed by a tremendous plume of feathers, that descended from a velvet hat”; he has also met Humboldt, and he has heard M. Gay Lussac lecture to about two hundred pupils.

Dumas has recorded in his “Éloge Historique” a reflection of the impressions left by the travellers. After speaking of the criticism to which Davy was exposed during his visit, he says:--

His laboratory assistant, long before he had won his great
celebrity by his works, had by his modesty, his amiability,
and his intelligence, gained most devoted friends at Paris,
at Geneva, at Montpellier. Amongst these may be named in the
front rank M. de la Rive, the distinguished chemist, father of
the illustrious physicist whom we count amongst our foreign
associates. The kindnesses with which he covered my youth
contributed not a little to unite us--Faraday and myself.
With pleasure we used to recall that we made one another’s
acquaintance under the auspices of that affectionate and
helpful philosopher whose example so truly witnessed that
science does not dry up the heart’s blood. At Montpellier,
beside the hospitable hearth of Bérard, the associate of
Chaptal, doyen of our corresponding members, Faraday has left
memories equally charged with an undying sympathy which his
master could never have inspired. We admired Davy, we loved
Faraday.

It is December 29 when the travellers leave Paris and cross the forest of Fontainebleau. Faraday thinks he never saw a more beautiful scene than the forest dressed in an airy garment of crystalline hoar frost. They pass through Lyons, Montpellier, Aix, Nice, searching on the way for iodine in the sea-plants of the Mediterranean. At the end of January, 1814, they cross the Col de Tende over the snow at an elevation of 6,000 feet into Italy, and find themselves in the midst of the Carnival at Turin. They reach Genoa, and go to the house of a chemist to make experiments on the _raia torpedo_, the electric skate, trying to ascertain whether water could be decomposed by the electrical discharges of these singular fishes. From Genoa they go by sea to Lerici in an open boat, with much discomfort and fear of ship-wreck; and thence by land to Florence.

[Sidenote: WITH DAVY IN ITALY.]

At Florence he goes with Davy to the Accademia del Cimento. He sees the library, the gardens, the museum. Here is Galileo’s own telescope--a simple tube of paper and wood, with lenses at each end--with which he discovered Jupiter’s satellites. Here is the great burning glass of the Grand Duke of Tuscany. And here is a numerous collection of magnets, including one enormous loadstone supporting a weight of 150 pounds. They make “the grand experiment of burning the diamond” in oxygen by the sun’s heat concentrated through the Grand Duke’s burning glass. They find the diamond to be pure carbon. Then early in April they depart for Rome.

From Rome Faraday wrote to his mother a long chatty letter summarising his travels, and sending messages of kindly remembrance to his old master Riebau and others. He tells how, in spite of political troubles, Sir Humphry Davy’s high name has procured them free admission everywhere, and how they have just heard that Paris has been taken by the Allied troops.

At Rome they witness unconvinced some attempts of Morichini to impart magnetism to steel needles by the solar rays. They pass the Colosseum by moonlight, making an early morning start across the Campagna, on the road to Naples, with an armed guard for fear of brigands. Twice, in the middle of May, they ascend Vesuvius, the second time during a partial eruption rendered all the more vivid by the lateness of the hour--half-past seven--at which the edge of the crater was reached. In June they visit Terni, and note the nearly circular rainbow visible in the spray of the cataract; and so across the Apennines to Milan.

At Milan occurs the following entry:--

Friday 17th [June, 1814], Milan. Saw M. Volta, who came to Sir
H. Davy, an hale elderly man, bearing the red ribbon, and very
free in conversation.

He does _not_ record how the ceremonious old Count, who had specially attired himself in his Court uniform to welcome the illustrious chemist, was horrified at the informal manners and uncourtly dress of the tourist philosopher.

So, travelling by Como and Domo d’Ossola, they come to Geneva, and here remain a long time; and Faraday writes again to his mother and to Abbott. He can even find time to discuss with the latter the relative merits of the French and Italian languages, and the trend of civilisation in Paris and in Rome. Twice he sends messages to Riebau. One of his letters to Abbott, in September, contains passages of more than transient interest:--

Some doubts have been expressed to me lately with respect
to the continuance of the Royal Institution; Mr. Newman can
probably give a guess at the issue of them. I have three boxes
of books, &c., there, and I should be sorry if they were lost
by the turning up of unforeseen circumstances; but I hope all
will end well (you will not read this out aloud). Remember
me to all friends, if you please. And “now for you and I to
ourselves.”...

In passing through life, my dear friend, everyone must expect
to receive lessons, both in the school of prosperity and in
that of adversity; and, taken in a general sense, these schools
do not only include riches and poverty, but everything that
may cause the happiness and pleasure of man, and every feeling
that may give him pain. I have been in at the door of both
these schools; nor am I so far on the right hand at present
that I do not get hurt by the thorns on my left. With respect
to myself, I have always perceived (when, after a time, I saw
things more clearly) that those things which at first appeared
as misfortunes or evils ultimately were actually benefits,
and productive of much good in the future progress of things.
Sometimes I compared them to storms and tempests, which cause a
temporary disarrangement to produce permanent good; sometimes
they appeared to me like roads--stony, uneven, hilly, and
uncomfortable, it is true--but the only roads to a good beyond
them; and sometimes I said they were clouds which intervened
between me and the sun of prosperity, but which I found were
refreshing, reserving to me that tone and vigour of mind which
prosperity alone would enervate and ultimately destroy....

[Sidenote: HINTS OF DISCOMFORT.]

You talk of travelling, and I own the word is seducing, but
travelling does not secure you from uneasy circumstances. I
by no means intend to deter you from it; for though I should
like to find you at home when I come home, and though I know
how much the loss would be felt by our friends, yet I am aware
that the fund of knowledge and of entertainment opened would
be almost infinite. But I shall set down a few of my own
thoughts and feelings, &c., in the same circumstances. In the
first place, then, my dear B., I fancy that when I set my foot
in England I shall never take it out again; for I find the
prospect so different from what it at first appeared to be,
that I am certain, if I could have foreseen the things that
have passed, I should never have left London. In the second
place, enticing as travelling is--and I appreciate fully its
advantages and pleasures--I have several times been more
than half decided to return hastily home; but second thoughts
have still induced me to try what the future may produce, and
now I am only retained by the wish of improvement. I have
learned just enough to perceive my ignorance, and, ashamed of
my defects in everything, I wish to seize the opportunity of
remedying them. The little knowledge I have gained in languages
makes me wish to know more of them, and the little I have
seen of men and manners is just enough to make me desirous of
seeing more; added to which, the glorious opportunity I enjoy
of improving in the knowledge of chemistry and the sciences
continually determines me to finish this voyage with Sir
Humphry Davy. But if I wish to enjoy those advantages, I have
to sacrifice much; and though those sacrifices are such as an
humble man would not feel, yet I cannot quietly make them.
Travelling, too, I find, is almost inconsistent with religion
(I mean modern travelling), and I am yet so old-fashioned as
to remember strongly (I hope perfectly) my youthful education;
and upon the whole, _malgré_ the advantages of travelling, it
is not impossible but that you may see me at your door when you
expect a letter.

You will perceive, dear B., that I do not wish you hastily
to leave your present situation, because I think that a
hasty change will only make things worse. You will naturally
compare your situation with others you see around you, and
by this comparison your own will appear more sad, whilst the
others seem brighter than in truth they are; for, like the two
poles of a battery, the ideas of each will become exalted by
approaching them. But I leave you, dear friend, to act in this
case as your judgment may direct, hoping always for the best.

* * * * *

Sir Humphry works often on iodine, and has lately been making
experiments on the prismatic spectrum at M. Pictet’s. They
are not yet perfected, but from the use of very delicate air
thermometers, it appears that the rays producing most heat are
certainly out of the spectrum and beyond the red rays. Our time
has been employed lately in fishing and shooting; and many a
quail has been killed in the plains of Geneva, and many a
trout and grayling have been pulled out of the Rhone.

* * * * *

I need not say, dear Ben, how perfectly I am yours,

M. FARADAY.

[Sidenote: ARISTOCRATIC HAUTEUR.]

This letter reveals, what the diary of travel so scrupulously hides, the existence of circumstances which were hardly tolerable in Faraday’s position. To make the reference intelligible it should be remembered that Davy, who had come up to London in 1801 as a raw youth, of immense ability but very uncouth exterior, had developed into a fashionable person, had become the idol of the hour, had married a very wealthy widow, had been knighted, and had given himself up very largely to the pursuits of fashionable society and to the company of the aristocratic _beau monde_. Lady Davy accompanied Sir Humphry in this Continental tour; and though Faraday had been taken with them as secretary and scientific assistant, it would seem that he had not always been treated with the respect due to one in that position. The above letter evidently disquieted Abbott, for he wrote back to Faraday to inquire more closely into his personal affairs, telling him he was sure he was not happy, and asking him to share his difficulties. Faraday, who was now back in Rome, replied in January in a long letter of twelve pages,[9] which he says he had intended to fill with an account of the waterfalls he had seen, but which gives instead a detailed account of his vexations. He had, he said, written his former letter when in a ruffled state of mind. He now gives the explanation. Before, however, this letter could reach Abbott, the latter had written yet more urgently to know what was the matter. To this Faraday replied on February 23rd. As this shorter letter summarises the previous one it may be given here. Both are printed in Bence Jones’s “Life and Letters”:--

Rome, February 23, 1815.

DEAR B----,--In a letter of above twelve pages I gave answers
to your question respecting my situation. It was a subject
not worth talking about, but I consider your inquiries as so
many proofs of your kindness and the interest you take in my
welfare, and I thought the most agreeable thanks I could make
you would be to answer them. The same letter also contained a
short account of a paper written by Sir Humphry Davy on ancient
colours, and some other miscellaneous matters.

[Sidenote: SECRET OF MORTIFICATION.]

I am quite ashamed of dwelling so often on my own affairs,
but as I know you wish it, I shall briefly inform you of my
situation. I do not mean to employ much of this sheet of paper
on the subject, but refer you to the before-mentioned long
letter for clear information. It happened a few days before we
left England, that Sir H.’s valet declined going with him, and
in the short space of time allowed by circumstances another
could not be got. Sir H. told me he was very sorry, but that,
if I would do such things as were absolutely necessary for him
until he got to Paris, he should there get another. I murmured,
but agreed. At Paris he could not get one. No Englishmen were
there, and no Frenchman fit for the place could talk English
to me. At Lyons he could not get one; at Montpellier he could
not get one; nor at Genoa, nor at Florence, nor at Rome, nor
in all Italy; and I believe at last he did not wish to get one:
and we are just the same now as we were when he left England.
This of course throws things into my duty which it was not
my agreement, and is not my wish, to perform, but which are,
if I remain with Sir H., unavoidable. These, it is true, are
very few; for having been accustomed in early years to do for
himself, he continues to do so at present, and he leaves very
little for a valet to perform; and as he knows that it is not
pleasing to me, and that I do not consider myself as obliged
to do them, he is always as careful as possible to keep those
things from me which he knows would be disagreeable. But Lady
Davy is of another humour. She likes to show her authority,
and at first I found her extremely earnest in mortifying me.
This occasioned quarrels between us, at each of which I gained
ground, and she lost it; for the frequency made me care nothing
about them, and weakened her authority, and after each she
behaved in a milder manner. Sir H. has also taken care to get
servants of the country, ycleped _lacquais de place_, to do
everything she can want, and now I am somewhat comfortable;
indeed, at this moment I am perfectly at liberty, for Sir H.
has gone to Naples to search for a house or lodging to which we
may follow him, and I have nothing to do but see Rome, write my
journal, and learn Italian.

But I will leave such an unprofitable subject, and tell you
what I know of our intended route. For the last few weeks
it has been very undecided, and at this moment there is no
knowing which way we shall turn. Sir H. intended to see Greece
and Turkey this summer, and arrangements were half made for
the voyage; but he has just learned that a quarantine must be
performed on the road there, and to do this he has an utter
aversion, and that alone will perhaps break up the journey.

* * * * *

Since the long letter I wrote you, Sir H. has written two short
papers for the Royal Society--the first on a new solid compound
of iodine and oxygen, and the second a new gaseous compound of
chlorine and oxygen, which contains four times as much oxygen
as euchlorine.

The discovery of these bodies contradicts many parts of
Gay-Lussac’s paper on iodine, which has been very much vaunted
in these parts. The French chemists were not aware of the
importance of the subject until it was shown to them, and now
they are in haste to reap all the honours attached to it; but
their haste opposes their aim. They reason theoretically,
without demonstrating experimentally, and errors are the result.

* * * * *

I am, my dear Friend, yours ever and faithfully,
M. FARADAY.

The equivocal position thus forced upon Faraday by the _hauteur_ of Lady Davy nearly caused a _contretemps_ during the stay at Geneva, which lasted from the end of June, 1814, to about the middle of September. Bence Jones’s account, derived from Faraday himself, is as follows:--Professor G. de la Rive, undazzled by the brilliancy of Davy’s reputation, was able to see the true worth of his assistant. Davy was fond of shooting, and Faraday, who accompanied them, used to load Davy’s gun for him, while De la Rive loaded his own. Entering into conversation with Faraday, De la Rive was astonished to find that the intelligent and charming young man whom he had taken hitherto for a domestic was really _préparateur de laboratoire_ in the Royal Institution. This led him to place Faraday, in one respect, on an equality with Davy. Whilst they were staying in his house, he wished them to dine together at his table. Davy, it is said, declined, because Faraday acted in some things as his servant. De la Rive expressed his feelings strongly, and ordered dinner in a separate room for Faraday. A rumour spread years after that De la Rive gave a dinner in Faraday’s honour: this is not so, however.

[Sidenote: VISIT TO GENEVA.]

Of that Geneva visit Faraday says, in 1858, to M. A. de la Rive:--

I have some such thoughts (of gratitude) even as regards your
own father, who was, I may say, the first who personally at
Geneva, and afterwards by correspondence, encouraged and by
that sustained me.

This correspondence, which began with the father and was continued with the son, lasted altogether nearly fifty years.

From Geneva the travellers went northward, by Lausanne, Vevay, Bern, Zürich, and Schaffhausen, across Baden and Würtemburg to Munich. After visiting this and other German towns, they crossed Tyrol southwards to Vicenza, halting in the neighbourhood of the Pietra Mala to collect the inflammable gas which there rises from the soil. They spent a day in Padua, and three days in Venice; and on by Bologna to Florence, where Davy completed his analysis of the gas collected at Pietra Mala. Early in November they were again in Rome. He writes once and again to his mother, while his anxiety about the Royal Institution makes him send inquiries to Abbott as to what is going to happen there, and to charge him, “if any change should occur in Albemarle Street,” not to forget his books which are lying there. “I prize them now more than ever.”

To his former master, Riebau, he wrote from Rome as follows:--

Rome, Jan. 5th, 1815.

HONOURED SIR,

It is with very peculiar but very pleasing and indeed
flattering sentiments that I commence a letter intended for
you, for I esteem it as a high honour that you should not only
allow but even wish me to write to you. During the whole of
the short eight years that I was with you, Sir, and during
the year or two that passed afterwards before I left England,
I continually enjoyed your goodness and the effects of it;
and it is gratifying to me in the highest degree to find that
even absence has not impaired it, and that you are willing to
give me the highest proof of (allow me to say) friendship that
distance will admit. I have received both the letters that you
have wrote to me, Sir, and consider them as far from being the
least proofs of your goodwill and remembrance of me. Allow
me to thank you humbly but sincerely for these and all other
kindness, and I hope that at some future day an opportunity
will occur when I can express more strongly my gratitude.

I beg leave to return a thousand thanks to my kind Mistress,
to Mr. and Mrs. Paine and George for their remembrances, and
venture to give mine with respect in return. I am very glad to
hear that all are well. I am very much afraid you say too much
of me to Mr. Dance, Mr. Cosway, Mrs. Udney, etc., for I feel
unworthy of what you have said of me formerly, and what you
may say now. Since I have left England, the experience I have
gained in more diversified and extended life, and the knowledge
I have gained of what is to be learned and what others know,
have sufficiently shown me my own ignorance, the degree in
which I am surpassed by all the world, and my want of powers;
but I hope that at least I shall return home with an addition
to my self-knowledge. When speaking of those who are so much
my superiors, as Mr. Dance, Mr. Cosway, and Mrs. Udney, etc.,
I feel a continual fear that I should appear to want respect,
but the manner in which you mention their names in your letter
emboldens me to beg that you will give my humblest respects
to those honored persons, if, and only if (I am afraid of
intruding) they should again speak of me to you. Mr. Dance’s
kindness claims my gratitude, and I trust that my thanks, the
only mark that I can give, will be accepted.

[Sidenote: BOOKS AND BOOKSELLERS.]

Since I have been abroad, my old profession of books has
oftentimes occurred to my mind and been productive of much
pleasure. It was my wish at first to purchase some useful book
at every large town we came to, but I found my stock increase
so fast that I was obliged to alter my plan and purchase only
at Capital Cities. The first books that I wanted were grammars
and dictionaries, but I found few places like London where I
could get whatever I wanted. In France (at the time we were
there) English books were very scarce, and also English and
French books; and a French grammar for an Englishman was a
thing difficult to find. Nevertheless the shops appeared well
stocked with books in their own language, and the encouragement
Napoleon gave to Arts and Sciences extended its influence even
to the printing and binding of books. I saw some beautiful
specimens in both these branches at the Bibliothèque Impériale
at Paris, but I still think they did not exceed or even equal
those I had seen in London before. We have as yet seen very
little of Germany, having passed rapidly through Switzerland
and stopping but a few days at Munich, but that little gave
me a very favorable idea of the Booksellers’ shops. I got an
excellent English and German dictionary immediately I asked for
it, and other books I asked for I found were to be had, but E.
and G. Grammars were scarce, owing to the little communication
between the two Empires, and the former power of the French
in Germany. Italy I have found the country furnished with
the fewest means--if books are the means of disseminating
knowledge, and even Venice which is renowned for Printing
appeared to me bare and little worthy of its character. It is
natural to suppose that the great and most estimable use of
printing is to produce those books which are in most general
use and which are required by the world at large; it is those
books which form this branch of trade, and consequently every
shop in it gives an account of the more valuable state of the
art (_i.e._) the use made of it. In Italy there are many
books, and the shelves of the shops there appear full, but the
books are old, or what is new have come from France; they seem
latterly to have resigned printing and to have become satisfied
with the libraries their forefathers left them. I found at
Florence an E. and I. Grammar (Veneroni’s), which does a little
credit to Leghorn; but I have searched unsuccessfully at Rome,
Naples, Milan, Bologna, Venice, Florence, and in every part of
Italy for and E. and I. Dictionary, and the only one I could
get was Rollasetti in 8vo. E. F. and I. A circumstance still
more singular is the want of bibles; even at Rome, the seat of
the Roman Catholic faith, a bible of moderate size is not to
be found, either Protestant or Catholic. Those which exist are
large folios or 4tos and in several volumes, interspersed with
the various readings and commentaries of the fathers, and they
are in the possession of the Priests and religious professors.
In all shops at Rome where I ask for a small pocket bible the
man seemed afraid to answer me, and some Priest in the shop
looked at me in a very inquisitive way.

I must now, Kind Sir, put an end to this letter, which I fear
you will think already too long. I beg you will have the
goodness to send to my Mother and say I am well, and give my
duty to her and my love to my brother and sisters. I have
wrote four or five times lately from Rome to various friends.
Remember me, if you please, to Mr. Kitchen, and others who may
enquire after me. I thank you for your concluding wishes and
am, Sir,

Your most dutifully,
FARADAY.

To his sisters he wrote also. To the elder, on the Church festivals, the Carnival, and the ruins of the Colosseum. To the younger, on the best way of learning French. His diary is full of the Carnival, the foolishness of which afforded him much amusement. He witnessed the horse-races in the Corso, went four times to masked balls, where his boyish love of uproarious fun broke out beyond restraint, for to the last one he went disguised in a night-gown and night-cap. Between gaieties in the evenings and chemical experiments with Davy in the day, his time must have been pretty fully occupied. They had had the intention of going on to Greece and Turkey, but owing to dread of quarantine these projects were abandoned, and at the end of February, 1815, they moved southwards to Naples. Here is a characteristic entry:--

Tuesday, March 7th.--I heard for news that Bonaparte was again
at liberty. Being no politician, I did not trouble myself much
about it, though I suppose it will have a strong influence on
the affairs of Europe.

He went with Sir Humphry to explore Monte Somma, and ventured to make another ascent of the cone of Vesuvius, with the gratification of finding the crater in much greater activity than during the visits of the preceding year.

[Sidenote: THE END OF THE TOUR.]

Then, for reasons not altogether clear, the tour was suddenly cut short. Naples was left on March 21st, Rome on 24th, Mantua was passed on 30th. Tyrol was recrossed, Germany traversed by Stuttgardt, Heidelberg, and Cologne. Brussels was reached on 16th April, whence London was regained _viâ_ Ostend and Deal. A letter written from Brussels to his mother positively overflows with the joy of expected return. He does not want his mother to be inquiring at Albemarle Street as to when he is expected:--

You may be sure that my first moments will be in your company.
If you have opportunities, tell some of my dearest friends,
but do not tell everybody--that is, do not trouble yourself to
do it. I am of no consequence except to a few, and there are
but a few that are of consequence to me, and there are some
whom I should like to be the first to tell myself--Mr. Riebau
for one. However, let A. know, if you can...

Adieu till I see you, dearest Mother; and believe me ever your
affectionate and dutiful son,

M. FARADAY.

[P.S.] ’Tis the shortest and (to me) the sweetest letter I ever
wrote you.

A fortnight after his return to London, Faraday was re-engaged, at a salary of thirty shillings a week, at the Royal Institution as assistant in the laboratory and mineralogical collection. He returned to the scene of his former labours; but with what widened ideas! He had had eighteen months of daily intercourse with the most brilliant chemist of the age. He had seen and conversed with Ampère, Arago, Gay-Lussac, Chevreul, Dumas, Volta, De la Rive, Biot, Pictet, De Saussure, and De Stael. He had formed a lasting friendship with more than one of these. He had dined with Count Rumford, the founder of the Royal Institution. He had gained a certain mastery over foreign tongues, and had seen the ways of foreign society. Though it was many years before he again quitted England for a foreign tour, he cherished the most lively recollection of many of the incidents that had befallen him.