In treating of the life-story of Michael Faraday I have let particulars as to his various experiments and discoveries interfere as little as possible with the continuity of the narrative, and have thought it advisable to slightly refer to them in a special chapter. The value of his contributions to our fund of scientific knowledge is made manifest by the fact that whatever book on electricity and allied subjects we may take up now—works even bringing the science down to the very latest date—we always find the name and experiments of Michael Faraday quoted with great respect as a leader and an unquestioned authority. Indeed, our debt to him for his electrical work is incalculable; we are now seeing the electric light carried day by day into more streets, lighting more public places, nay, even being used in illuminating private buildings. This light we owe, primarily, to Michael Faraday. Writing nearly a quarter of a century ago Professor Tyndall answers this question as to "What is the use of it all?" thus explicitly and unhesitatingly—"As far as electricity has been applied for medical purposes, it has been almost exclusively Faraday's electricity. You have noticed those lines of wire which cross the streets of London. It is Faraday's currents that speed from place to place through these wires. Approaching the point of Dungeness the mariner sees an unusually brilliant light, and from the noble phares of La HÈve the same light flashes across the sea. These are Faraday's sparks exalted by suitable machinery to sunlike splendour. At the present moment the Board of Trade and the Brethren of the Trinity House, as well as the Commissioners of Northern Lights, are contemplating the introduction of the Magneto-electric Light at numerous points upon our coasts; and future generations will be able to refer to those guiding stars in answer to the question, What has been the practical use of the labours of Faraday? But I would again emphatically say that his work needs no such justification; and that if he had allowed his vision to be disturbed by considerations regarding the practical use of his discoveries, those discoveries would never have been made by him."

In one of his very earliest lectures delivered before the City Philosophical Society on the subject of chlorine,[11] Faraday referred to the question too often and too thoughtlessly put on hearing of a new discovery. "Before leaving this subject," he said, "I will point out the history of this substance, as an answer to those who are in the habit of saying to every new fact, 'What is its use?' Benjamin Franklin says to such, 'What is the use of an infant?' The answer of the experimentalist is, 'endeavour to make it useful.'" Truly the infant Electricity has already grown to goodly proportions. It is to his researches in connection with electrical science that we must look for the chief result of Faraday's work. His later years were almost exclusively taken up in the investigation of this fascinating subject.

The value of his contributions to the sum of knowledge on this new branch of science was testified to in a remarkable manner during the past summer, when the centenary of his birth was celebrated in a fitting manner at that Institution which had been a "home" to him for so many years. It was indeed an unique incident in the history of modern science, when on the 17th of June, 1891, many of the leading living scientists met in the theatre of the Royal Institution to hear a lecture by Lord Rayleigh on the life-work of "one of England's greatest worthies." "A quarter of a century has not elapsed," wrote a contemporary journal,[12] "since his death, and yet we find the highest nobles of the land vieing with the most illustrious professors of our own and of foreign universities in testifying their admiration for this man of the people, who rose to be a leader of scientific men." "When the history of electricity comes to be written," continues the same authority, "a chapter of great extent and first importance must be given to the prolific life-work of Faraday. He will be pointed to as the man who in the middle of the nineteenth century, waged an energetic and relentless warfare against the two fluid theories in electricity and magnetism, and who dealt its death-blow to the theory of action at a distance. And to show the powerful influence his master-mind exercised over contemporary science, the historian may merely refer to Clerk-Maxwell, Sir William Thomson, Rayleigh, Tyndall, and others, all admiring disciples and professed followers of the great Michael Faraday."

The meeting that thus did honour to the memory of Faraday, was probably the most fitting method of celebrating the anniversary of his birth that could have been devised; it was, we may feel sure, just such a celebration as Faraday would have felt most proud of. Wealth and social rank, as we have seen throughout his life, had no attraction for him; but he did like to receive the appreciation of capable men, in whose appreciation he found the highest honour to which it was possible to attain.

Some of Faraday's earliest experiments, as was incidentally mentioned in an earlier part of this little book, were in connection with chlorine, etc., and then on the making of glass for optical purposes; and it was not, indeed, until he had been at the Institution for about eighteen years that he really entered with any degree of success into his electrical research. Here it is of interest to note a remark which he once made in this connection to the effect that it requires twenty years of work to make a man in physical science, the whole of the previous period being one of infancy. Once, however, he had reached this scientific manhood his work was done with remarkable rapidity; he would, once on the track, so to speak, of a discovery, mature it in a space of time so short as to be nothing less than marvellous; and one after another of his "experimental researches" were carried out, completed, described, and the resultant paper submitted to the Royal Society with a rapidity, and at the same time with an accuracy which has never been equalled. He was asked once what was the secret of his success, and answered that the whole secret might be told in three words, they were these "Work—Finish—Publish." Perhaps the centre word is the one on which Faraday would himself have lain most stress—he was always careful to finish everything before he announced it, which makes his almost unexceptional accuracy, considering the rapidity with which he worked, even more remarkable. It is, however, not inaccurate to say that the results which he definitely announced, were never found to be wrong; further developments have of course taken place, but the result of a research as announced by him was never found to be untrue, and has never had to be put aside.

He had said, in the early part of his scientific career, "the thing that I am proudest of is that I have never been found to be wrong." And after the death of his friend, Professor A. de la Rive wrote, "I do not think that Faraday has once been caught in a mistake; so precise and conscientious was his mode of experimenting and observing." Dr. Gladstone commenting upon this says, "The extreme rarity of his mistakes, notwithstanding the immense amount of his published researches, is one of those marvels which can be appreciated only by those who are in the habit of describing what they have seen in the mist-land that lies beyond the boundaries of previous knowledge."

The proper treatment of Faraday's discoveries could of course only be undertaken by one who was himself a scientist; the technicalities of the laboratory and the lecture-theatre would be somewhat out of place in a book such as this, which but aims at presenting in a popular form the facts in connection with the life of one of the greatest of England's scientists—one of the best of her sons. It may, however, here be pointed out that to those who would become acquainted with the details of Faraday's scientific work, with particulars of his numerous experiments, a delightful introduction has been afforded by Professor Tyndall, who in his little work on Faraday as a Discoverer, has summarised much of the great man's work, and explains in a clear and delightful manner much about the experiments which were undertaken and the discoveries which were made by his illustrious predecessor and friend. It is of interest to notice here what discovery of Faraday it is which Tyndall selects as the greatest—it is the discovery of electro-magnetism, of which he says: "The beauty and exactitude of the results of this investigation are extraordinary. I cannot help thinking while I dwell upon them, that this discovery of magneto-electricity is the greatest experimental result ever obtained by an investigator. It is the Mont Blanc of Faraday's own achievements. He always worked at great elevations, but a higher than this he never subsequently attained."

The following impromptu lines with reference to Faraday's great discovery of magneto-electricity were written by Herbert Mayo:—

Of this same subject Tyndall wrote shortly after Faraday's death:—"Seven and thirty years have passed since the discovery of magneto-electricity; but, if we except the extra current, until quite recently nothing of moment was added to the subject. Faraday entertained the opinion that the discoverer of a great law or principle had a right to the 'spoils'—this was his term—arising from its illustration; and guided by the principle he had discovered, his wonderful mind, aided by his wonderful ten fingers, overran in a single autumn this vast domain, and hardly left behind him the shred of a fact to be gathered by his successors."

This indeed is a quality which has been insisted upon by all who have as fellow scientists treated of the work which was done by Michael Faraday,—this quality, that is, of completion, of thoroughness in finishing that which he had commenced; he seemed to become aware almost as though by intuition of the full meaning of a discovery, and of its true bearing with regard to previous knowledge.

Great as was Faraday's work in the service of science he not only did not aim at, but he frequently declined to accept what many men would have considered but just reward. He was a chemist, a scientist, a philosopher (to give him the name which he best liked, and of which he felt most proud), and did his work as such from the purest love for it, as I have tried to show in earlier chapters. He did not seek worldly position—he was above it; he did not seek for wealth, he had no use for it, as his wants were of the simplest; he did not seek for popular applause, for the suffrage of the multitude; but what he did all his life long most earnestly and most faithfully strive for was—Truth. He ever aimed at fulfilling what the Laureate has beautifully expressed in his dedication to In Memoriam wherein he says—

He sought to make knowledge grow from more to more, but it is to be recollected that he never for one more moment swerved from his faithful adherence to his Church. In all his research among physical phenomena he was never led to doubt, as some have done, the truth of that religion in which he always maintained a sincere and beautiful faith; his religion was, indeed, always a something far above his science, a something sacred and of moment to himself, as a single soul. We saw in his reply to his wife on his formally entering the Sandemanian Church shortly after his marriage, what was his attitude on this question. It was, as he had said, a matter between himself and his God; and thus we find in what he has written but very little about his religion, although one or two of his letters to relations, where he has been directly appealed to, breathe the sincere and earnest devotion of the man, and his true Christian spirit. His whole life was, however, a practical expression of his religious faith; as is shown to us by what has been said or written by all who came in contact with him.

The following tribute to his memory from Monsieur Dumas is yet one further proof of the universal feeling which his friendship inspired, "I do not know whether there is a savant who would not feel happy in leaving behind him such works as those with which Faraday has gladdened his contemporaries, and which he has left as a legacy to posterity; but I am certain that all those who have known him would wish to approach that moral perfection which he attained to without effort. In him it appeared to be a natural grace, which made him a professor, full of ardour for the diffusion of truth, an indefatigable worker, full of enthusiasm and sprightliness in his laboratory, the best and most amiable of men in the bosom of his family, and the most enlightened preacher among the humble flock whose faith he followed.

"The simplicity of his heart, his candour, his ardent love of the truth, his fellow interest in all the successes, and ingenuous admiration of all the discoveries of others, his natural modesty in regard to what he himself discovered, his noble soul—independent and bold—all these combined gave an incomparable charm to the illustrious physicist.

"I have never known a man more worthy of being loved,—of being admired,—of being mourned. Fidelity to his religious faith, and the constant observance of the moral law, constitute the ruling characteristics of his life.... There is more than one useful lesson to be learnt from the proper study of this illustrious man, whose youth endured poverty with dignity, whose mature age bore honours with moderation, and whose last years passed gently away surrounded by marks of respect and tender affection."

Several stories are told that illustrate the constant habit of experimenting which seemed to be innate in Faraday's mind, and also show how simple were the means which he often adopted to attain a required end. An example of the latter is given us by Sir Frederick Arrow in describing a visit which he, as one of the Committee of the Elder Brethren of the Trinity House, paid, to observe the Dungeness electric light, in June 1862. The committee accompanied Faraday, who had always been a most energetic worker in the cause of the Trinity House.

"We dined," says Sir Frederick Arrow, "I think at Dover, and embarked in the yacht from there, and were out for some hours watching it, to Faraday's great delight—(a very fine night)—and especially we did so from the Varne lightship about equi-distant between it and the French light of Grisnez, using all our best glasses and photometers to ascertain the relative value of the lights; and this brings me to my story. Before we left Dover, Faraday, with his usual bright smile, in great glee showed me a little common paper-box, and said, 'I must take care of this; it's my special photometer,'—and then, opening it, produced a lady's ordinary black shawl pin—jet, or imitation perhaps—and then, holding it a little way off the candle, showed me the image very distinct; and then putting it a little further off, placed another candle near it, and the relative distance was shown by the size of the image. He lent me this afterwards when we were at the Varne lightship, and it acted admirably; ever since I have used one as a very convenient mode of observing, and I never do so but I think of that night and dear good Faraday, and his genial happy way of showing how even common things may be made useful."

Such men as had occasion to work in the laboratory with Faraday, were always struck by his lively enthusiasm, and the great activity with which he worked—"his motions were wonderfully rapid; and if he had to cross the laboratory for anything, he did not walk at an ordinary step but ran for it, and when he wanted anything he spoke quickly."

In his methods of working he was most exact. Having carefully planned out in his own mind work to be done, he would enter the laboratory, and with his table unencumbered with anything beyond such things as he was using, would set to work in a grave, silent manner. After a time, however, as the experiment proceeded and the result which he had anticipated began to manifest itself, he would begin humming a tune, and even speak to his attendant of the expected result. On finishing such experimental work for the day, everything had to be put carefully away, all bottles stoppered, open vessels covered over, all instruments and materials returned to their various drawers, all rubbish cleared from the floor, and the laboratory left ready for the Professor to start work again. Faraday would then go upstairs to his study, and think further on the subject on which he happened to be working.

In his later years we are told that he invariably carried about with him convenient sized cards on which he could jot down at once—in the street, in the lecture room, at a friend's, indeed anywhere—such thoughts as should flash across his mind.

A few words deserve to be said with regard to Sergeant Anderson, who for over thirty years acted as Faraday's laboratory assistant at the Royal Institution. In 1829, when Faraday was working at experiments on the manufacture of glass for optical purposes, a special furnace was erected at the Royal Institution, and Anderson was engaged to assist at it. After the glass experiments were over, however, Anderson, who had demonstrated his usefulness, was retained, and he continued throughout the rest of Faraday's life as his assistant, having won the good opinion not only of the Professor but of all with whom he had anything to do. There is one good story told of Anderson, who had been chosen for his post on account of the habits of strict obedience, which his military training had given him. His duty was to keep the furnaces always at the same heat, and the water in the ashpit always at the same level. In the evening he was released; but one night Faraday forgot to tell Anderson he could go, and early next morning he found his faithful servant still stoking the glowing furnace, as he had been doing all night long.