The year of the Great Exhibition was a busy one for Faraday; he was working in his old accustomed, unremitting manner at his magnetic, and electric, and general experiments, he was continuing to write those Experimental Researches which he sent in to the Royal Society, and upon which rests so large a part of his reputation as a scientist. He had given up his professorship at Woolwich Academy the previous year. He was lecturing, however, a good deal, and not alone on his own account, for during the summer he delivered a lecture on ozone for his good friend Professor SchÖnbein. His health, however, was far from being as good as it had been, and he had to take frequent rests; so that, although he was working as earnestly and enthusiastically as ever, it was, so to speak, only intermittently. That the loss of memory from which he had before suffered was still afflicting him at times, is made evident by such passages from his letters as the following pathetic one from a letter to SchÖnbein: "I have no doubt I answer your letters very badly; but, my dear friend, do you remember that I forget, and that I can no more help it than a sieve can help the water running out of it. Still you know me to be your old and obliged and affectionate friend, and all I can say is, the longer I know you the more I seem to cling to you. Ever, my dear SchÖnbein, yours affectionately."

A pathetic interest attaches to the following reminiscence of Faraday by his niece (Miss Jane Barnard); she was reading to him an anecdote of the Duke of Marlborough's intimation to the king that as he felt that the time when his faculties would fade had arrived he did not wish again to attend any Council meeting, and that if he should attend he desired that no heed should be given to anything he said. Faraday after listening attentively to it, asked Miss Barnard to read that anecdote to him if at any time she felt that his judgment no longer controlled his wishes.

So numerous were the honours which were showered upon Michael Faraday during the last forty years of his life, that to enumerate them would be as tedious as it would be profitless; suffice it to say that he was elected a member of all the chief scientific and philosophical bodies in Europe. Indeed it is said that a Continental Professor addressed a letter to him as "Professor Michael Faraday, Member of all the learned Societies of Europe." It is worthy of note, however, that he was elected a member of the Senate of the University of London, and was asked to act as examiner for the same body, but declined.

During the periods of rest which his failing health made necessary, Faraday would go off to Brighton or Hastings with his wife, where he would spend a few days in quiet idleness. In February, 1851, he was at Brighton, where Mr. Masquerier, the French refugee who had in early life given him lessons in geometry, was living. In Crabb Robinson's diary the following entry, which is of much interest to us here, occurs against February 18: "(At Masquerier's, Brighton.) We had calls soon after breakfast. The one to be mentioned was that of Faraday, one of the most remarkable men of the day, the very greatest of our discoverers in chemistry, a perfect lecturer in the unaffected simplicity and intelligent clearness in his statement; so that the learned are instructed and the ignorant charmed. His personal character is admirable. When he was young, poor, and altogether unknown, Masquerier was kind to him; and now that he is a great man he does not forget his old friend."

An interesting story is told by Dr. Scoffern of an incident that happened during this year; an incident that illustrates in a remarkable manner the unaltered good humour and geniality which belonged to Faraday as much during his later as his earlier years. Professor Brande was lecturing at the time on a newly-discovered method of purifying sugar by sugar of lead; while they were in the laboratory Scoffern accidentally let fall a retort of corrosive liquid. In an instant, he tells us, Professor Faraday "threw some soda upon the floor; then down on his hands and knees he went, slop cloth in hand, like any humble housemaid. Laughing, I expressed my desire to photograph him then and there; he demurred to the pose, begged me to consult his dignity, and began laughing with a childish joyousness. Hilariously boyish upon occasion he could be, and those who knew him best, knew he was never more at home, that he never seemed so pleased as when making an 'old boy' of himself, as he was wont to say, lecturing before a juvenile audience at Christmas."

Faraday, as has been said earlier, attended some of the annual meetings of the British Association; in this year of 1851 the meeting was held at Ipswich, and on that occasion Dr. J. H. Gladstone says he first met Faraday to have any intercourse with him. "I watched him," he writes, "with all the interest of an admiring disciple, and there is deeply engraven on my memory the vivacity of his conversation, the eagerness with which he entered into some mathematico-chemical speculations of Dumas, and the playfulness with which, when we were dining together, he cut boomerangs out of card, and shot them across the table at his friends."

Yet another story of Faraday's remarkable disinterestedness is given us by Dr. Scoffern, who, writing of the year 1852, says that he had made an abstract of a course of lectures which Faraday had delivered on the subject of the non-metallic elements; this abstract he wished to embody in a book which he was about to publish. The kindly old chemist at once gave his permission, and would not even listen to any proposal as to sharing the profits of the work. Scoffern immediately suggested that he would be misunderstood by the publisher, who would not be able to comprehend such a piece of generosity on the great professor's part. "Oh," said Faraday, "we'll soon settle that by writing;" and he wrote out a formal letter of assignment.

Despite the fact that his time was always fully occupied, Faraday found time to write many letters, not only the long friendly, yet scientific letters to such men as De la Rive and SchÖnbein, but letters of advice and sympathy to his nephews and nieces, and other friends. His advice was always given in so kindly a spirit that it could not be taken amiss, and his sympathy was tendered in that rare manner—sincere and unostentatious—which characterises this feeling in its highest manifestation. The following passage, from a letter to his nephew, Frank Barnard, who was just starting life, is an illustration of this: "And so you are hard at work, and somewhat embarrassed by your position; but no man can do just as he likes, and in many things he has to give way, and may do so honourably, provided he preserves his self-respect. Never, my dear Frank, lose that, whatever may be the alternative. Let no one tempt you to it, for nothing can be expedient that is not right; and though some of your companions may tease you at first, they will respect you for your consistency in the end; and if they pretend not to do so it is of no consequence. However, I trust the hardest part of your probation is over, for the earliest is usually the hardest, and that you know how to take all things quietly."

Although I have made but little special reference to the work on which our great hero was engaged when treating of different periods of his life; it becomes necessary here to refer to the part which Faraday took in exposing a popular delusion which was widely believed in at the time, and which yet has many supporters—the delusion as to table-turning. He wrote a long account fully exposing the error which so many people were willing to believe; and although his exposure convinced most persons who troubled themselves to follow him in his investigations, the popular mind refused to be disillusionised, and the turning of the tables was referred to electricity, magnetism, spirits, a new natural force, and other agencies. This occasion perhaps drew more emphatic utterance from Faraday than any other; he had no patience with people who would not be enlightened, and his feeling is shown in a letter written in July, 1853, to Professor SchÖnbein: "I have not been at work except in turning the tables upon the table-turners, nor should I have done that, but that so many inquiries poured in upon me, that I thought it better to stop the inpouring flood by letting all know at once what my views and thoughts were. What a weak, credulous, incredulous, unbelieving, superstitious, bold, frightened,—what a ridiculous world ours is, as far as concerns the mind of man. How full of inconsistencies, contradictions, and absurdities it is. I declare that, taking the average of many minds that have recently come before me (and apart from that spirit which God has placed in each), and accepting for a moment that average as a standard, I should far prefer the obedience, affections, and instincts of a dog before it. Do not whisper this, however, to others. There is One above who worketh in all things, and who governs even in the midst of that misrule to which the tendencies and powers of men are so easily perverted."

In his Juvenile Lectures, delivered at Christmas of the same year, he again referred to this popular error, giving at the same time some sound advice to his young friends. "In conclusion, I must address a few words to the intending philosophers who form the juvenile part of my audience. Study science with earnestness—search into nature—elicit the truth—reason on it, and reject all which will not stand the closest investigation. Keep your imagination within bounds, taking heed lest it run away with your judgment. Above all, let me warn you young ones of the danger of being led away by the superstitions which at this day of boasted progress are a disgrace to the age, and which afford astonishing proofs of the vast floods of ignorance overflowing and desolating the highest places.

"Educated man, misusing the glorious gift of reason which raises him above the brute, actually lowers himself below the creatures endowed only with instinct; inasmuch as he casts aside the natural sense which might guide him, and in his credulous folly pretends to discover and investigate phenomena which reason would not for a moment allow, and which, in fact, are utterly absurd.

"Let my young hearers mark and remember my words. I desire that they should dwell in their memory as a protest uttered in this Institution against the progress of error. Whatever be the encouragement it may receive elsewhere, may we, at any rate in this place, raise a bulwark which shall protect the boundaries of truth, and preserve them uninjured during the rapid encroachments of gross ignorance under the mask of scientific knowledge."

Faraday's high position in the world of science and his well-known thoroughness in investigating any subject in which he interested himself, made his utterances on the subject of spirit-rapping and table-turning convincing to a large number of people. He was, however, for many years occasionally pestered with questions about it, by persons who thought they could prove to him that he was wrong; perhaps in no matter did Faraday so nearly lose his patience as over this; at no other time did he so nearly exhibit that volcano of fiery passion which, according to Tyndall, underlay the sweetness and gentleness of disposition which were his ever-obvious qualities. He had, as Tyndall well puts it, "through high self-discipline converted the fire into a central glow and motive power of life, instead of permitting it to waste itself in useless passion. 'He that is slow to anger,' saith the sage, 'is greater than the mighty, and he that ruleth his own spirit than he that taketh a city!' Faraday was not slow to anger, but he completely ruled his own spirit; and thus, though he took no cities, he captivated all hearts."

Miss Barnard, from her long and intimate acquaintance with her uncle, quite endorses what Professor Tyndall says. She says that a most fiery passion was kept under by the most perfect master, and during all the years she knew him she could not recollect above two occasions when Faraday, even for a moment, let his passion get the better of him.

Lightly as he looked upon honours such as are the ones usually appreciated by more worldly men, Faraday was always well-pleased and more than gratified when recognised by leading men of science or literature. Many as were the distinctions which had been and were still being heaped upon him, he would especially value such a one as was offered him in 1854, when one who in a measure had been his pupil—Henry Mayhew—dedicated to him a volume on the Wonders of Science, illustrating the life and progress in scientific knowledge of young Humphry Davy. This dedication runs, "My dear sir, I inscribe your name on one of the fly-leaves of this little book, with the same devotion as youths are wont to carve upon the trunk of some forest tree the name of those whom they admire most in the world; and I do so for many reasons." And in concluding the dedication he shows us once more the helpfulness and goodness of Faraday's nature: "And now, my dear sir, let me, in conclusion, thank you for your generous encouragement of my labours when I was engaged in inquiring into the condition of the 'London Poor.' Many know your wisdom, but none are better acquainted with your goodness than yours very truly,

"Henry Mayhew."

Never, when a success beyond the wildest imaginings of his youth had crowned his devotion to science, did Faraday forget the time of his early struggles, and the humble beginning which he had made. As we have before mentioned, he would frequently stop in the street to speak a kindly word of encouragement to young newspaper lads who were just starting in life in the way that he had done over half a century earlier. An incident such as that depicted in the illustration was, indeed, a not uncommon one, for, to refer again to the Professor's own words, he could not but feel a tenderness for such boys, because he had once carried newspapers himself.

In Miss Reid's recollections of her illustrious uncle, from which we have quoted in an earlier chapter, there was something said about the reading which interested the scientist in his hours of relaxation. This is always an interesting matter in connection with our great men; we are always glad to know what they read, and, if possible, why they read it. At a party about this time, Faraday joined in a discussion which was being carried on on the subject of novel reading, and some one of those present took a few notes of such works as he mentioned as being specially interesting or entertaining to him. He liked novels, he said, with some stir and life in them, such as Paul Ferrol, Jane Eyre, too—although of this he characteristically said, "there's a touch of mesmerism and mystery at the end which would be better away." Of Scott's novels he was always a great admirer, liking particularly Ivanhoe, Guy Mannering, and Waverley; he also spoke admiringly of Fanny Burney's novel, Evelina, a book that is hardly among the generally read novels of to-day. Writing in 1858 to Professor de la Rive on the death of Mrs. Marcet,[9] Faraday mentions his early reading as follows: "Do not suppose that I was a very deep thinker, or was marked as a precocious person, I could believe in the Arabian Nights as easily as in the EncyclopÆdia. But facts were important to me and saved me. I could trust a fact, and always cross-examined an assertion. So when I questioned Mrs. Marcet's book by such little experiments as I could find means to perform, and found it true to the facts as I could understand them, I felt that I had got hold of an anchor in chemical knowledge, and clung fast to it. Thence my deep veneration for Mrs. Marcet."

When, in 1857, Mr. Cyrus Field was in England preparing for the laying of the great telegraph cable across the Atlantic Ocean, he inquired of Faraday as to what he thought of its practicability; the philosopher doubted the possibility of transmitting a message. Field saw that an objection from so great an authority would prove well-nigh fatal, and that it must be removed at once; he therefore offered to pay Faraday sufficiently for his services if he would undertake such experiments as were necessary. Faraday declined the money, but undertook the experiments, and on their completion reported to Field, "It can be done, but you will not get an instantaneous message."

"How long will it take?" anxiously inquired the engineer.

"Oh, perhaps a second."

"Well, that's quick enough for me."

The year 1858 is an interesting one in the life of Michael Faraday; for over forty years he had lived in the Royal Institution, and during that time had risen from being a journeyman bookbinder with a small circle of friends, to being the first of living philosophers, with a fame known all over the world, and with friends wherever his fame had penetrated. In this year, however, while still retaining his connection with the Royal Institution, he removed with his wife to a house at Hampton Court, which had been kindly placed at their disposal by Her Majesty the Queen, at the instigation of the Prince Consort. Faraday writes in April to Prince Albert's secretary acknowledging the extreme kindness of Her Majesty, but expressing himself as doubtful whether to accept or to decline. The house it appeared wanted some repairs which Faraday felt doubtful about; he did not feel that he would be enabled to undertake them, but his mind was soon set at rest on this score, for in the summer of this year, writing to one of his nieces, he says, "The case is settled. The Queen has desired me to dismiss all thoughts of the repairs, as the house is to be put into thorough repair both inside and out. The letter from Sir C. Phipps is most kind." In writing to Sir C. Phipps himself Faraday said, "I find it difficult to write my thanks or express my sense of the gratitude I owe to Her Majesty; first, for the extreme kindness which is offered to me in the use of the house at Hampton Court, but far more for that condescension and consideration which, in respect of personal rest and health, was the moving cause of the offer. I feared that I might not be able properly to accept Her Majesty's most gracious favour. I would not bring myself to decline so honourable an offer, and yet I was constrained carefully to consider whether its acceptance was consistent with my own particular and peculiar circumstances. The enlargement of Her Majesty's favour has removed all difficulty. I accept with deep gratitude, and I hope that you will help me to express fitly to Her Majesty my thanks and feelings on this occasion."

Faraday's house, standing pleasantly on Hampton Court Green, was, as will be seen from the illustration, a delightful creeper-embowered place, and with its open aspect and surrounding greenery, must have afforded a great and agreeable change to the tired philosopher and his wife. For some years after his removal Faraday made frequent runs up to town to the Institution, where he continued his research work and also delivered many lectures, notably, several courses of the now annual Juvenile Lectures. He was, however, not able to continue for long spells of work, but had to take occasional intervals of rest. He still made frequent reports in connection with Trinity House, but refused to take up any further work. He declined even to prepare his Juvenile Lectures for publication, although other reasons than his own incapacity for sustained work here influenced him, as we see by the following letter:—

"Royal Institution, January 3, 1859.

"Dear Sir,—Many thanks both to you and Mr. Bentley. Mr. Murray made me an unlimited offer like that of Mr. Bentley's many years ago, but for the reasons I am about to give you I had to refuse his kindness. He proposed to take them by shorthand, and so save me trouble, but I knew that would be a thorough failure; even if I cared to give time to the revision of the MS., still the lectures without the experiments and the vivacity of speaking would fall far behind those in the lecture room as to effect. And then I do not desire to give time to them, for money is no temptation to me. In fact, I have always loved science more than money; and because my occupation is almost entirely personal, I cannot afford to get rich.

"Again thanking you and Mr. Bentley,

"I remain, very truly yours,

"M. Faraday."

I have had to insist once or twice upon Faraday's deeply religious nature; it comes out very clearly in some letters written about this time, when he was an old man—having very nearly attained to the threescore years and ten of man's life. In his work and in his conversation he never obtruded his religious convictions, but the innate religious feeling of the man coloured his every relation with his fellow men. In that we have but few direct writings of his on this subject, a grave interest attaches to the following letter to his niece: "I never heard of the saying that separation is the brother of death; I think that it does death an injustice, at least in the mind of the Christian; separation simply implies no re-union; death has to the Christian everything hoped for contained in the idea of re-union. I cannot think that death has to the Christian anything in it that should make it a rare, or other than a constant thought; out of the view of death comes the view of the life beyond the grave, as out of the view of sin (that true and real view which the Holy Spirit alone can give to a man) comes the glorious hope; without the conviction of sin there is no ground of hope to the Christian. As far as he is permitted for the trial of his faith to forget the conviction of sin, he forgets his hope, he forgets the need of Him who became sin or a sin-offering for His people, and overcame death by dying. And though death be repugnant to the flesh, yet where the Spirit is given, to die is gain. What a wonderful transition it is! for, as the apostle says, even whilst having the firstfruits of the Spirit, the people of God groan within themselves, 'waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of the body.' Elsewhere he says, that whilst in the earthly house of this tabernacle we groan, earnestly desiring to be clothed upon with our house which is from heaven.

"It is permitted to the Christian to think of death; he is even represented as praying that God would teach him to number his days. Words are given to him, 'O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?' and the answer is given him, 'Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.' And though the thought of death brings the thought of judgment, which is far above all the trouble that arises from the breaking of mere earthly ties, it also brings to the Christian the thought of Him who died, was judged, and who rose again for the justification of those who believe in Him. Though the fear of death be a great thought, the hope of eternal life is a far greater.... You see I chat now and then with you as if my thoughts were running openly before us on the paper, and so it is. My worldly faculties are slipping away day by day. Happy is it for all of us that the true good lies not in them. As they ebb, may they leave us as little children, trusting in the Father of mercies and accepting His unspeakable gift."

In 1860 Faraday became once more an elder in the Sandemanian Church, and retained that office for nearly four years, when he finally resigned it. The meeting of the British Association was held in this year at Oxford, and Faraday was once more present, as he liked to be, at this scientific gathering. A friend, apropos of this visit, wrote the following jeu d'esprit, which is worth remembering—

This same year is also notable as being the nineteenth, and last, in which Faraday delivered the Christmas Juvenile Lectures; for ten years in succession he had given them, the four lectures of this, his final course, being those well known and generally appreciated ones upon "The Chemical History of a Candle." An earlier course having been given some years before on the same subject. His failing health and memory made it necessary for him to discontinue much of his work, and in the following year his last experimental work was done, and (on June 20) his last Friday evening lecture delivered. A touching and pathetic interest attaches to the slight notes which he made for this, his last lecture. The notes are brief—but yet how much is there not expressed in them?

"Personal explanation—years of happiness here, but time of retirement; LOSS OF MEMORY and physical endurance of the brain.

"1. Causes—hesitation and uncertainty of the convictions which the speaker has to urge.

"2. Inability to draw upon the mind for the treasures of knowledge it has previously received.

"3. Dimness, and forgetfulness of one's former self-standard in respect of right, dignity, and self-respect.

"4. Strong duty of doing justice to others, yet inability to do so.

"Retire."

Thus did the old man of seventy years touchingly bid farewell to work which he had been carrying on for the greater part of half a century—to that work which had received from him the untiring devotion of a life-time. In 1862 his memory, which had previously troubled him, became even less trustworthy; though his cheerfulness, faith, and innate optimism were never clouded for a moment, as is well-shown in a letter which he wrote to the wife of his old friend Barlow. "I called at your house," Faraday wrote, "and I rejoice to think that your absence is a sign of good health. Our love to you both. I am enjoying the gradual decay of strength and life, for when I revive it is no great revival or desire to me, and that cheers me in the view of death near and round us."

In 1863 his chief work was in connection with the Trinity House, Faraday continuing to report upon the value of the magneto-electric light for lighthouses, and visiting yet again, as he had frequently done for years past, Dungeness and other stations for the purpose. Despite his incapacity for sustained mental work owing to his failing memory, Faraday continued fairly hale in body, and was yet active, for in February of 1863 he was at Dungeness, and in the autumn of the same year he was in Scotland for a fortnight, and wrote from Glasgow to one who for over forty years had been his loving companion, a letter breathing an affection unaltered by the lapse of years, unless indeed it were, to use his own expression, that it had grown deeper. We have seen the letters which he wrote in the early years of his marriage; it is fitting that we should quote from this one to show how unchanged he was, despite the many years which had passed over him. "I long to see you, dearest," he wrote, "and to talk over things together, and call to mind all the kindness I have received. My head is full and my heart also, but my recollection rapidly fails, even as regards the friends that are in the room with me. You will have to resume your old function of being a pillow to my mind, and a rest, a happy-making wife.... Dearest, I long to see and be with you. Whether together or separate, your husband, very affectionate,

"M. Faraday."

In 1865 he felt compelled to relinquish the active work in connection with the Trinity House, without altogether retiring from his position, for after thirty years' work, during which he had been treated by the Brethren with uniform kindness and consideration, he did not like to altogether sever his connection with friends with whom he had been so long and so harmoniously working. In accordance with Faraday's wishes Professor Tyndall undertook this work for him. In the same year he felt it necessary to communicate with the managers of the Royal Institution, expressing his desire to be allowed, without severing his connection with it, to give up his active work for the Institution.

The last two years of his life were thus passed "waiting" as he once or twice expressed it. To an old friend of very many years' standing he had said, "Barlow, you and I are waiting—that is what we have to do now; and we must try to do it patiently." And again, in reply to a friend who inquired as to how he was, he simply replied, "Just waiting." Thus gradually and quietly the end approached. One of his nieces writes of her annual visit in 1867:

"I spent June at Hampton Court. Dear uncle kept up rather better than sometimes; but oh! there was always pain in seeing afresh how far the mind had faded away. Still the sweet unselfish disposition was there, winning the love of all around him....

"I shall never look at the lightning flashes without recalling his delight in a beautiful storm. How he would stand at the window for hours, watching the effects and enjoying the scene; while we knew his mind was full of lofty thoughts; sometimes of the great Creator, and sometimes of the laws by which He sees meet to govern the earth.

"I shall also always connect the sight of the hues of a brilliant sunset with him, and especially he will be present to my mind while I watch the fading of the tints into the sombre grey of night. He loved to have us with him, as he stood or sauntered on some open spot, and spoke his thoughts, perhaps in the words of Gray's Elegy, which he retained in memory, clearly, long after many other things had faded quite away. Then, as darkness stole on, his companions would gradually turn indoors, while he was well pleased to be left to solitary communings with his own thoughts."

On the 25th of August, 1867, he passed quietly away, dying in his chair in his study at Hampton Court. His niece, Miss Barnard, from whose recollections we have learned much in earlier chapters, had spent a good part of her life with her aunt and uncle, and had helped to nurse the latter during the last few months. "My occupation has gone," she pathetically wrote to Dr. Bence Jones. On August 30th, the funeral took place, everything being conducted simply and quietly; it was, as Faraday had himself expressed a desire that it should be, strictly private. A plain headstone in Highgate Cemetery, with the following simple inscription, marks the place where lies all that was mortal of one of England's noblest sons.

"Michael Faraday,
Born, 22nd September,
1791,
Died, 25th August,
1867"

If it were necessary to add anything to these simple words that mark his resting-place, there might be put, and it would apply to Faraday as truly as to any man that ever lived, the well-known line—

"An honest man, the noblest work of God."