Jo
FAKADAYS LIFE AND LETTEES.
VOL. I.
xondqn: printed by
spottiswoode and co., new-street square
and parliament street
Engraved iy H Adlard from a Photograph ij Maull fcPolyblank.
O^n *~i
London, Longmans & C9
the
LIFE AND LETTERS
OF
FARADAY.
IIT
DR. BENCE JONES,
XKCSITABT Or TUB UOTAL I KSTIT OTIOS,
IN TWO VOLUMES. Vol. I.
LONDON:
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
1870.
T%* ripkt wf fwaWfliHtfti is rttrrptd.
DEC 13 1963 | \(& 872380 ^' I
PREFACE.
To write a life of Faraday seemed to me at first a hopeless work. Although I had listened to him as a lecturer for thirty years and had been with him frequently for upwards of twenty years, and although for more than fifteen years he had known me as one of his most intimate friends, yet my knowledge of him made me feel that he was too good a man for me to estimate rightly, and that he was too great a philo- sopher for me to understand thoroughly. I thought that his biographer should if possible be one who was his own mental counterpart.
I afterwards hoped that the Journals, which he wrote at different periods whilst abroad, might have been published separately. If this had been done, then some portions of his biography would have been in his own writing : but it was thought undesirable to divide the records of the different parts of his life.
As time went on, and those who were most interested in the work found no one with sufficient leisure to whom they were inclined to give his manuscripts, I at last made the attempt to join together his own words, and to form them into a picture of his life which may almost be looked upon aa an autobiography.
VI , PKEFACE.
My first work was to read his manuscripts ; and then to collect from his friends all the letters and notes that were likely to be of interest. And here, in duty bound, I must first thank Mrs. Faraday and her nieces Miss Barnard and Miss Eeid for their help ; then his earliest friend Mr. Abbott, whose collection of letters was priceless ; then his friends M. Auguste De la Eive and the late Professor Schonbein. I am also indebted to Madame Matteucci, Miss Moore, Miss Magrath, Miss Phillips, Dr. Tyndall, Dr. Percy, the late Eev. John Barlow, Col. Yorke, and to many others.
From his letters, his laboratory note-books, his lecture-books, his Trinity House and other manu- scripts, I have arranged the materials for a memorial of Faraday in the simplest order, with the least con- necting matter.
I have, however, with permission, used some of the admirable summaries published by Dr. Tyndall, in his account of ' Faraday as a Discoverer.'
II. B. J.
October 18th, 1869.
Con Hall,
Essex :
CONTENTS
OF
THE FIRST VOLUME.
CHAPTER I.
1791-1812. To .St. 21.
PAUK EARLY LIFE— ERRAND BOY AND BOOKBINDER'S APPRENTICE . 1
CHAPTER II.
1812-1813. To^t. 22.
JOURNEYMAN BOOKBINDER AND CHEMICAL ASSISTANT AT THE
KoYAL INSTITUTION 40
CHAPTER IIL
1813-1815. To.Kt. 21.
EXTRACTS FROM 1119 JOURNAL AND LETTERS WHILST ABROAD
WITH SIR HUMPHRY DAVY 81
CHAPTER IV.
1815-1819. To .fir. 28. EMU.IKR SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION AT THE ROYAL INSTITITION —
first uecruRsa \t the city philosophical societt— first
PAPER IN HIE ' wl vi:i I.Ki.V JOURNAL OF SCIENCE' . . . 209
CHAPTER V.
1820-1830. To JEt. 39.
itlOHKR KIRRTIPIC EDUCATION AT THE INSTITUTION -MARRIM.i:
— FIRST PAFRR IN HIE 'PHILOSOPHICAL TRANS A< 1 1 • • n -- . . .'{15
VOL. I. a
Erratum. Page 2. In the Table,/or 1728 read 1724.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PA HA DAT (JULT 27, 1857) WITH HIS HEAVY GLASS THAT SHOWED
'THE ACTION OP MAGNETISM ON LIOUT ' . . Frontispiece
CLAI'UAM WOOD HALL, TORKSHIRB, AS IT WAS . . . page 2
clapham wood hall as it now is 3
Jacob's whx mews, the eari.t home op pasadat, as it
now is 7
THE BOOKBINDEU's SUOP IN llLVNDKol'.D STREET AS IT WAS . . 0
LIFE OF FARADAY.
CHAPTER I.
EARLY LIFE — ERRAND BOY AND BOOKBINDER'S APPRENTICE.
The village of Clapham, in Yorkshire, lies at the foot of Ingleborough, close to a station of the Leeds and Lancaster Railway. Here the parish register between 1708 and 1730 shows that 4 Richard ffaraday ' recorded the births of ten children. He is described as of Keasden, stonemason and tiler, a • separatist ; ' and he died in 1741. No earlier record of Faraday's family can be found.
It seems not unlikely that the birth of an eleventh child, Robert, in 1724, was never registered. Whether this Robert was the son or nephew of Richard cannot be certainly known : however, it is certain that he married Elizabeth Dean, the owner of Clapham Wood Hall.
This Hall was of some beauty, and of a style said to be almost peculiar to the district between Lancaster, Kirkby Lonsdale, and Skipton. The porch had a gable- end and ornamented lintel with the initials of the builder (the proprietor) ; and the windows, with three or four muUions and label or string-course, had a very good effect. It was partly pulled down some twenty
VOL. I. b
LIFE OF FARADAY.
years ago, and a common sort of farm-house built in its place.
It is now little better than a stone cottage. The door opens directly into a kitchen, flagged with four large flags. What remains of the old Hall is, if
CLAPHAM WOOD HALL WITH MILL AS IT WAS.
anything, meaner than the dwelling itself. At this Hall Robert and Elizabeth Faraday lived, and had ten children, whose names and birthdays, and callings in after life, so far as they are known, were these : —
/ Richard, born June 16, 1757, was an innholder, slater, grocer.
John, born May 19, 1759, was a farmer.
James, born May 8, 1761, was a blacksmith.
Robert, born February 3, 1763, was a packer in a flax mill.
Elizabeth, born June 27, 1765.
William, born April 20, 1767, died in July 1791.
Jane, born April 27, 1769.
Hannah, born August 16, 1771.
Thomas, born November 6, 1773, kept a shop. ^ Barnabas, whose birthday is not known, was a shoemaker.
1j O I CM "
g? S3 T3 © 3-a 9
"gg.J |
HIS ANCESTORS.
The first insight into this large family comes in the year when Faraday was born, through William, who died when he was twenty-four years old, at Clapham Wood Hall. Faraday's grandmother then wrote a letter to Anne Fordyce, to whom her son William
CLAPHAM WOOD HALL AS IT IS.
was engaged to be married. This letter shows the nature and strength of the religious feeling in the family for two generations previous to the birth of Faraday.
'Clapham Wood Hall, July 4, 1701.
* Dear Nancy, — With a troubled mind I write this to you. My dear son is dead. He died on the Sabbath in the evening at seven o'clock. Now, my dear love, I beg you would hear me what I have to say, and be sober. It hath been a great concern on William's mind about you : he was afraid you would feel to an
* 2
LIFE OF FARADAY.
extreme, and it troubled him very much : from this consideration he strove to make all things look as well as he could, and he had some hope within a little of his death that he happen might mend, which is very natural for all people.
1 When William began to be worse, he began to be concerned about his everlasting welfare. He sent for Mr. Gorrel and confessed the faith in Christ, and gave Mr. Gorrel and the rest of the brethren great satisfac- tion.
' William was exceedingly comfortable, and rejoiced exceedingly. He then sent for his clothes, and he thought he would go to Wenning Bank, and join the brethren in public ; but both we and the brethren saw there was no chance, but they came to visit him very frequently. I cannot, in a little compass, tell you all that William said, but he rejoiced exceedingly.
' Now, my dear love, I hope you will consider that Providence knows better than we, and I hope this account will serve in some measure to reconcile you, and I shall be very glad to hear from you.
1 My children all give their kind love to you. From your affectionate, well-wishing
'Elizabeth Faraday.'
The brethren were members of a Sandemanian con- gregation. The Glasites are said once to have had a chapel at Clapham, with a burial ground attached to it. At present the chapel is converted into a barn, and the windows are walled up. The unconsecrated burial ground is thrown open to the fields, but one or two headstones still remain against the wall of the building.
SANDEMANIAN1SM.
Several of these congregations were formed in dif- ferent parts of England by the writings and preaching of Robert Sandeman, the son-in-law of the Reverend John Glas, a Presbyterian clergyman in Scotland. Thus the Church in London was formed in 1760. In 1763 the congregation at Kirkby Stephen numbered between twenty and thirty persons. Sandeman ulti- mately went to America to make his views known, and he died there in 1771.
In 1728 Glas was deposed by the Presbyterian Church Courts, because he taught that the Church should be subject to no league nor covenant, but be governed only by the doctrines of Christ and His Apostles. He held that Christianity never was, nor could be, the established religion of any nation without becoming the reverse of what it was when first instituted ; that Christ did not come to establish any worldly power, but to give a hope of eternal life beyond the grave to His people whom He should choose of His own sovereign will ; that the Bible, and that alone, with nothing added to it nor taken away from it by man, was the sole and sufficient guide for each individual, at all times and in all circumstances ; that faith in the divinity and work of Christ is the gift of God, and that the evidence of this faith is obedience to the commandments of Christ.
There are two points of practice in the Church which, in relationship to the Life of Faraday, must be mentioned. One of these is the admission into the Church, the other is the election of elders.
Members are received into the Church on the con- fession of sin, and the profession of faith in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. This profession must
LIFE OF FARADAY.
be made before the Church in public. The elders first, and afterwards the other members, ask such questions as they think are necessary to satisfy the Church. Prayer is then offered up, a blessing is invoked upon the person received, and he is heartily welcomed and loved for the sake of the truth he has professed.
There must be a plurality of elders (presbyters or bishops) in each Church, and two must be present at every act of discipline. When a vacancy occurs, the elders suggest for election to the congregation one of its members who appears to answer the description of an elder in the New Testament. The election is made by the whole Church unanimously. Earnestness of feeling and sincerity of conviction are the sole re- quisites for the office, which is entirely unpaid.
With regard to other members of the large family that were born at Clapham Wood Hall, it is known that Faraday's uncle John had a quarry among the hills, and erected a shielding for the use of the men, which in some maps is marked as Faraday House, and the gill which runs by it, in the map of the Ordnance Survey of Westmoreland, is called Faraday Gill. His uncle Thomas was the father of Thomas Armat Faraday, who is now a draper and grocer at Clapham. His father James, who was a blacksmith, was married in 1786 to Margaret Hastwell, a farmer's daughter of Mallestang, near Kirkby Stephen. To James and Margaret Faraday four children were born : —
James; born 1761, died 1810, r Elizabeth, born, 1787.
married 1786 Margaret I Robert, born 1788.
Hastwell, born 1764, died 1 Michael, born 1791.
1838. I Margaret, born 1802.
James soon after his marriage came to London, and
HIS BIRTH.
lived at Newington, in Surrey, where his third child, Michael, was born on September 22, 1791. For a short time his home was in Gilbert Street ; but about 1796 he moved to rooms over a coach-house in Jacob's Well Mews, Charles Street, Manchester Square : he
HOl'SK IN JACOHS WKI.I. MKWS.
then worked as a journeyman at Boyd's in Wel- beck Street. lie joined the Sandemanian Church after he came to London. His wife, though one of the congregation, never became a member of the Church.
During the distress of 1801, when corn was above
8 LIFE OF FAEADAY.
1801. 9/. the quarter, the family received public relief; and Mt. 9-io.' to Michael, who was nine years old, one loaf was given weekly, and it had to last him for that time.
In 1807 James wrote to his brother Thomas at Clapham — ' I am sorry to say I have not had the pleasure of enjoying one day's health for a long time. Although I am very seldom off work for a whole day together, yet I am under the necessity (through pain) of being from work part of almost every day.' . . . And then, after speaking of some Church matters, he says — ' But we, perhaps, ought to leave these matters to the overruling hand of Him who has a sovereign right to do what seemeth good to Him, both in the armies of heaven and amongst the inhabitants of the earth.'
On July 29, 1809, he wrote to the same brother — 1 1 never expect to be clear of the pain completely with which I am afflicted, yet I am glad to say that I am somewhat better than I formerly was. .
' We are about to remove very shortly, so that you will be good enough to direct your next as follows — 18 Weymouth Street, near Portland Place, London.'
There he died on October 30, 1810.
Faraday's mother died in Islington, in March 1838. * She was very proud of her son ; so much so, that Faraday asked his wife not to talk to his mother so much about him or his honours, saying she was quite proud enough of him, and it would not be good for her. Usually she called him " my Michael." She would do nothing whatever without his advice, and was quite contented and happy in being supported wholly by him in her declining years. She had not had any advantages of education, nor was she able to
HIS SCHOOLING.
9
enter at all into her son's pursuits. She was particu- 1803. larly neat and nice in her household arrangements, je^iTTJ. and exerted herself to the utmost for her husband and children.'
The home of Michael Faraday was in Jacob's Well Mews from the time he was five years old until he went to Blandford Street. Very little is known of his life during these eight years. He himself has pointed out where he played at marbles in Spanish Place, and
old view of Bissau's shop.
where, at a later period, he took care of his little sister in Manchester Square. He says, * my education was of the most ordinary description, consisting of little more than the rudiments of reading, writing, and arithmetic at a common day-school. My hours out of school were passed at home and in the streets.'
10 LIFE OF FARADAY.
1804. Only a few yards from Jacob's Well Mews is a book- ^x.12-13. seller's shop, at No. 2 Blandford Street.
There Faraday went as errand boy, on trial for a year, to Mr. George Eiebau, in 1804. He has spoken with much feeling ' that it was his duty, when he first went, to carry round the papers that were lent out by his master. Often on a Sunday morning he got up very early and took them round, and then he had to call for them again ; and frequently, when he was told the paper was not done with, " You must call again," he would beg to be allowed to have it ; for his next place might be a mile off, and then he would have to return back over the ground again, losing much time, and being very unhappy if he was unable to get home to make himself neat, and to go with his parents to their place of worship.'
He says, ' I remember being charged with being a great questioner when young, but I do not know the nature of the questions.' One instance, however, has been preserved. Having called at a house, possibly to leave a newspaper, whilst waiting for the door to be opened, he put his head through the iron bars that made a separation from the adjoining house ; and, whilst in this position, he questioned himself as to which side he was on. The door behind him being opened, he suddenly drew back, and, hitting himself so as to make his nose bleed, he forgot all about his question.
In after life the remembrance of his earliest occupa- tion was often brought to his mind. One of his nieces says that he rarely saw a newspaper boy without making some kind remark about him. Another niece recalls his words on one occasion, ' I always feel a
HIS APPRENTICESHIP. 11
tenderness for those boys, because I once carried news- 1809. papers myself.' jelii-is.
Faraday's indentures as an apprentice are dated October 7, 1805 : one line in them is worthy to be kept — * In consideration of his faithful service no pre- mium is given.'
Four years later his father wrote (in 1809), ' Michael is bookbinder and stationer, and is very active at learning his business. He has been most part of four years of his time out of seven. He has a very good master and mistress, and likes his place well. He had a hard time for some while at first going ; but, as the old saying goes, he has rather got the head above water, as there is two other boys under him.'
Faraday himself says, ' Whilst an apprentice I loved to read the scientific books which were under my hands, and, amongst them, delighted in Marcet's " Conversations in Chemistry," and the electrical trea- tises in the " Encyclopaedia 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.' He told a friend that Watts * On the Mind ' first made him think, and that his attention was turned to science by the article 'Electricity' in an encyclopaedia he was employed to bind.
4 My master,' he says, ' allowed me to go occasionally of an evening to hear the lectures delivered by Mr. Tat um on natural philosophy at his house, 53 Dorset Street, Fleet Street. I obtained a knowledge of these
12
LIFE OF FARADAY.
1810. lectures by bills in the streets and shop-windows near ^Et.18-19. his house. The hour was eight o'clock in the evening. The charge was one shilling per lecture, and my brother Eobert (who was three years older and followed his father's business) made me a present of the money for several. I attended twelve or thirteen lectures between February 19, 1810, and September 26, 1811. It was at these lectures I first became acquainted with Magrath, Newton, Nicol, and others.'
He learned perspective of Mr. Masquerier,1 that he might illustrate these lectures. 'Masquerier lent me Taylor's " Perspective," a 4to volume, which I studied closely, copied all the drawings, and made some other very simple ones, as of cubes or pyramids, or columns in perspective, as exercises of the rules. I was always very fond of copying vignettes and small things in ink ; but I fear they were mere copies of the lines, and that I had little or no sense of the general effect and of the power of the lines in producing it.'
In his earliest note-book he wrote down the names of the books and subjects that interested him : this he called ' " The Philosophical Miscellany," being a col- lection of notices, occurrences, events, &c, relating to the arts and sciences, collected from the public papers, reviews, magazines, and other miscellaneous works; intended,' he says, 'to promote both amuse- ment and instruction, and also to corroborate or in- validate those theories which are continually starting
1 In Crabb Kobinson's Memoirs (vol. iii. p. 375, dated Feb. 18, 1851) it is written, ' At Masquerier' s, Brighton. We had calls soon after break- fast. The one to be mentioned was that of Faraday. 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.'
HIS FIRST BOOKS AND WRITINGS. 13
into the world of science. Collected by M. Faraday, 1&11- 1809-10.' ^T.i9-2o.
Among the books and subjects which are mentioned in this volume are, ' Description of a Pyropneumatic Apparatus,' and ' Experiments on the Ocular Spectra of Light and Colours,' by Dr. Darwin, from Ackermaiis Repository ; ■ Lightning,' and * Electric Fish and Electricity,' from Gentleman's Magazine ; ' Meteorolites,' from the Evangelical Magazine ; ' Water Spouts,' from the Zoological Magazine ; * Formation of Snow,' from Sturm's Reflections ; ' To loosen Glass Stopples,' from the Lady's Magazine ; 4 To convert two Liquids into a Solid,' ' Oxygen Gas,' ' Hydrogen Gas,' * Nitric and Carbonic Acid Gas,' ' Oxymuriate of Potash,' from Conversations in Chemistry.
1 Galvanism : ' * Mr. Davy has announced to the Eoyal Society a great discovery in chemistry — the fixed alkalies have been decomposed by the galvanic bat- tery,' from Chemical Observer ; ' Galvanism and a Description of a Galvanometer,' from the Literary Panorama.
Through Mr. Tatum, Faraday made the acquaintance of Mr. Huxtable, who was then a medical student, and of Mr. Benjamin Abbott, who was a confidential clerk in the City, and belonged to the Society of Friends. Mr. Huxtable lent him the third edition of ' Thomson's Chemistry,' and * Parkes's Chemistry : ' this Faraday bound for his friend. The earliest note of Faraday's that is known to exist was written this year to Mr. Huxtable. It shows a little of the fun and much of the gentleness of his writing at this time : —
* Dear Sir, — Tit for tat, says the proverb ; and it is my
14 LIFE OF FARADAY.
1812. earnest wish to make that proverb good in two instances. jET.20-21. First, you favoured me with a note a short time since, and I hereby return the compliment ; and, secondly, I shall call " tit " upon you next Sunday, and hope that you will come and tea " tat" with me the Sunday after. In short, the object of this note is to obtain your company, if agreeable to your convenience and health (which I hope is perfectly recovered long before this), the Sunday after next.
'This early application is made to prevent prior claims ; and I propose to call upon you this day week to arrange what little circumstances may require it.
' In hope that your health is as well as ever, and that all other circumstances are agreeable, I subjoin myself, Sir, yours,
' M. Faraday.'
The following are among the few notes which Faraday made of his own life : —
' 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 Eoyal Institution, to hear four of the last lectures of Sir H. Davy in that locality.1 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
1 He always sat in the gallery over the clock.
Ills lIRn WHILST AN APPRENTICE. 16
Bulks, then IV>i< lent of the Royal Society. Naturally 1812. enough, " no answer " was the reply left with the MT.20-21. porter.'
On Sunday, July 12, 1812, three months before his apprenticeship ended, he began to write to Benjamin Abbott, who was a year and a half younger than his friend ; but Abbott had been at good schools and was well educated, and hence Faraday regarded him as the possessor of a knowledge far beyond his own. Through- out all his correspondence this deference to his friend's superior school knowledge is always to be seen. These letters Mr. Abbott has most fortunately kept, thinking that at some future time they would be invaluable records of his friend's youth. They show his thoughts when he was ' giving up trade and taking to science,' during the period when the greatest change in the course of his life took place. The first eight were written between July 12 and October 1 in this year, whilst he was still an apprentice in Blandford Street.
They possess an interest almost beyond any other letters which Faraday afterwards wrote. It is difficult to believe that they were written by one who had been a newspaper boy and who was still a bookbinder's apprentice, not yet twenty-one years of age, and whose only education had been the rudiments of reading, writing, and arithmetic.
Had they been written by a highly educated gentle- man, they would have been remarkable for the en- ergy, correctness, and fluency of their style, and for the courtesy, kindness, candour, deference, and even humility, of the thoughts they contain.
Although these letters are very long, yet they are of great value, because they show the mind of Faraday
16 LIFE OF FARADAY.
1812. at this period of his life. They are also evidence as to jET.20-21. the first knowledge which he gained in chemistry and electricity, and they prove that he was even then trying to add to that knowledge by experiment.
FARADAY S FIRST LETTER TO BENJAMIN ABBOTT.
( Dear A , Ceremony is useless in many cases, and
sometimes impertinent ; now between you and me it may not be the last, yet I conceive it is the first : there- fore I have banished it at this time. But first let me wish you well, and then I will proceed on to the subject of this letter. Make my respects, too, if you please, to Mr. and Mrs. A., and also to your brother and sister.
' I was lately engaged in conversation with a gentle- man who appeared to have a very extensive corre- spondence : for within the space of half an hour he drew observations from two letters that he had received not a fortnight before — one was from Sicily and the other from France. After a while I adverted to his correspondence, and observed that it must be very in- teresting and a source of great pleasure to himself. He immediately affirmed, with great enthusiasm, that it was one of the purest enjoyments of his life (observe, he, like you and your humble servant, is a bachelor). Much more passed on the subject, but I will not waste your time in recapitulating it. However, let me notice, before I cease from praising and recommending epistolary correspondence, that the great Dr. Isaac Watts (great in all the methods respecting the attainment of learn- ing) recommends it as a very effectual method of im- proving the mind of the person who writes and the person who receives. Not to forget, too, another strong
HIS LETTERS WHILST AN APPRENTICE. 17
instance in favour of the practice, I will merely call to 1812. your mind the correspondence that passed between 2BT.20-21. Lord Chesterfield and his son. In general, I do not approve of the moral tendency of Lord Chesterfield's letters, but I heartily agree with him respecting the utility of a written correspondence. It, like many other good things, can be made to suffer an abuse, but that is no effectual argument against its good effects.
* I, dear A., naturally love a letter, and take as much pleasure in reading one (when addressed to myself) and in answering one as in almost anything else ; and this good opinion which I entertain has not suffered any injury from the circumstance I have noticed above. I also like it for what I fancy to be good reasons drawn up in my own mind upon the subject, and from those reasons I have concluded that letter writing improves,
first, the handwriting ; secondly, the at this moment
occurs an instance of my great deficiency in letter writing — I have the idea I want to express full in my mind, but have forgot the word that expresses it — a word common enough too, — I mean the expression, the de- livery, the composition or manner of connecting words ; thirdly, it improves the mind by the reciprocal ex- change of knowledge ; fourthly, the ideas — it tends, I conceive, to make the ideas clear and distinct (ideas are generated or formed in the head, and I will give you an odd instance as proof) ; fifthly, it improves the morals. I speak not of the abuse but the use of epistolation (if you will allow me to coin a new word to express my- self), and that use, I have no doubt, produces other good effects. Now I do not profess myself perfect in those points, and my deficiency in others connected with the subject you well know, as grammar, &c. ; therefore it
vol. 1. c
18 LIFE OF FARADAY.
1812. follows that I want improving on these points ; and what jet. 20-21. so natural in a disease as to revert to the remedy that will perform a cure ? and more so when the physic is so pleasant ; or, to express it in a more logical manner and consequently more philosophically, M. F. is deficient in certain points that he wants to make up, epistolary writ- ing is one cure for those deficiencies, therefore I should practise epistolary writing.
* Seeing that I have thus proved, both from reason and logic — and the last is almost equal to mathematics in certainty — that I should write letters, it merely remained to obtain correspondents. Now, do not be affronted, Mr. A., by my looking towards you before you have heard my reasons. I am happy to say that my disposi- tion is somewhat like your own, philosophically in- clined ; and of course I wish to improve in that part more than in others. You too have, I presume, time to spare now and then, for half an hour or so ; your ideas too, I have ascertained whilst conversing with you, are plentiful and pretty perfect — I will not say quite, for I have never yet met with a person who had arrived at perfection so great as to conceive new ideas with ex- actness and clearness ; and your — vide above, where I failed — your composition or expression pleases me highly. For these reasons I have presumed to conceive that the interchange of ideas and of information would not be unpleasant to you, and would be highly gratifying to me. You may, if you choose, take this (insert
some word here) as a specimen of what mine would be, and return me an answer similar to what you pro- mised me before — Yes or No.
'On looking back, I find, dear A., that I have filled two pages with very uninteresting matter, and was intending to go on with more, had I not suddenly
. HIS LETTERS WIIILST AN AITRENTICE. 19
been stopped by the lower edge of the paper. This cir- 1812. cumstance (happily for you, for I should have put you ^jT.20-21. to sleep else) has " called back my wand'ring thoughts ;" and I will now give you what I at first intended this letter should be wholly composed of — philosophical information and ideas.
'I have lately made a few simple galvanic experiments, merely to illustrate to myself the first principles of the science. I was going to Knight's to obtain some nickel, and bethought me that they had malleable zinc. I inquired and bought some — have you seen any yet ? The first portion I obtained was in the thinnest pieces possible— observe, in a flattened state. It was, they in- formed me, thin enough for the electric stick, or, as I before called it, De Luc's electric column. I obtained it for the purpose of forming discs, with which and copper to make a little battery. The first I completed con- tained the immense number of seven pairs of plates ! ! ! and of the immense size of halfpence each ! ! ! ! I !
1 1, Sir, I my own self, cut out seven discs of the size of halfpennies each ! I, Sir, covered them with seven half- pence, and I interposed between, seven, or rather six, pieces of paper soaked in a solution of muriate of soda ! ! ! But laugh no longer, dear A. ; rather wonder at the effects this trivial power produced. It was sufficient to produce the decomposition of sulphate of magnesia — an effect which extremely surprised me ; for I did not, could not, have any idea that the agent was competent to the purpose. A thought here struck me ; I will tell you. I made the communication between the top and bottom of the pile and the solution with <■< ipper wire. Do you conceive that it was the copper that decomposed the earthy sulphate — that part, I mean,
c 2
20 LIFE OF FARADAY.
1812. immersed in the solution ? That a galvanic effect took jET.20-21. place I am sure ; for both wires became covered in a short time with bubbles of some gas, and a continued stream of very minute bubbles, appearing like small particles, ran through the solution from the negative wire. My proof that the sulphate was decomposed was, that in about two hours the clear solution became tur- bid : magnesia was suspended in it.
' Seeing the great effect of this small power, I procured from Knight some plate zinc, or sheet zinc I think they call it, about the thickness of pasteboard ; from this I cut out discs, and also obtained some sheet copper, and procured discs of that metal. The discs were about 1J inch in diameter. These I piled up as a battery, interposing a solution of the muriate of soda by means of flannel discs of the same size. As yet I have only made one trial, and at that time had, I believe, about eighteen or twenty pairs of plates. With this power I have decomposed the sulphate of magnesia, the sul- phate of copper, the acetate of lead, and I at first thought also water, but my conclusions in that respect were perhaps too hastily made.
c I inserted the wires into a portion of water that I took out of the cistern, and of course, in a short time, strong action commenced. A dense — 1 may really say dense — white cloud of matter descended from the posi- tive wire, and bubbles rose rapidly and in quick succes- sion from the negative wire ; but after a time I per- ceived that the action slackened : the white cloud was scarcely perceptible at the wire, though by the former action the lower part of the solution was perfectly opaque and the bubbles nearly ceased. I thought that the action of the battery was exhausted ; but in philosophy we do
HIS LETTERS WHILST AN APPRENTICE. 21
not admit suppositions ; and therefore, to prove whether 1812. the battery was inert, or whether any principle in the ^T.20-21. water was exhausted, I substituted a fresh portion of water for that which had been galvanised. Then the action commenced again, and went on as at first. The white precipitate again appeared, and bubbles rose as before ; but after a while it ceased, as in the first in- stance.
4 1 make no affirmative conclusion from these pheno- mena, but this I presume, that the water was not de- composed. Our water comes through iron pipes, and is retained in a leaden cistern. I have also ascertained that it holds a small portion of muriatic acid, and have no doubt that it contains carbonic acid. Now, do you think that any part of the lead or iron (the lead I should rather fancy) is held in solution by the muriatic or carbonic acid, and that the bubbles are formed by the precipitation of the metal, whilst the acid — what a blunder ! I mean that the bubbles are formed by the escape of the acid and the precipitate — is the metallic oxide ? Explain this circumstance to me — will you ? — either by your pen or your tongue. Another pheno- menon I observed was this : on separating the discs from each other, I found that some of the zinc discs had got a coating — a very superficial one in some parts — of me- tallic copper, and that some of the copper discs had a coating of oxide of zinc. In this case the metals must both have passed through the flannel disc holding the solution of muriate of soda, and they must have passed by each other. I think this circumstance well worth notice, for, remember, no effect takes place without a cause. The deposition, too, of the oxide of zinc in the flannel was curious, and will tend to illustrate the passage
22 LIFE OF FAEADAY.
1812. of the metals from one side to the other. I cannot de- ^Et.20-21. scribe it with any effect, you must see it ; but think of these things, and let me, if you please, Sir, if you please, let me know your opinion.
1 Thus far have I scribbled, and have still got to apologise, but philosophy must bear sway a little longer. I had a contest with some gentlemen respecting a per- petual motion, which induced me to go and see what they affirmed to be one. It was an application of the ball-pendulum to a timepiece — a very neat piece of workmanship. You may lately have seen it ; but if not, it is in the window of a watchmaker's situated in a passage at the east side of the Eoyal Exchange. By inquiring, I ascertained that it was called the inclined- plate clock, was not invented by a watchmaker (nega- tive), required winding-up once in fourteen days, and was estimated at the value of fifty guineas, or, more definitely, 52/. 10s., guineas change in value so much now-a-days.
' And now, dear Sir, to conclude in a manner requisite for the occasion. I heartily beg pardon for thus in- truding on your time, your patience, and your good sense. I beseech you, if you will condescend so far, to return me an answer on this occasion, and pray let the refusal of your correspondence be as gentle as possible. Hoping, dear A., that the liberty I have taken will not injure me in your good opinion, I cannot conclude better than by wishing you all the happiness you can enjoy, the completion of all your good and honest wishes, and full health until I communicate with you again, and for ever after.
' I am, dear A., yours sincerely,
' M. Faraday.'
HIS LETTERS WHILST AN APPRENTICE. 23
'Monday morning, July 13. 1812.
* Dear A , I am just now iuvolved in a fit of 2ET.20-21.
vexation. I have an excellent prospect before me, and cannot take it up for want of ability: had I perhaps known as much of mechanics, mathematics, mensuration, and drawing, as I do perhaps of some other sciences — that is to say, had I happened to employ my mind with these instead of other sciences — I could have obtained a place — an easy place, too, and that in London — at 5, 6, 7, 800/. per annum. Alas! alas! Inability. I must ask your advice on the subject, and intend, if I can, to see you next Sunday.
4 I understood from my brother that you were in good health and spirits yesterday ; you will be sure I was happy to hear it. I heartily hope, too, that your brother's health improves. Make, if you please, my best wishes to him. Fail not to give my respects to your father and mother, and also your sister. 4 I am, dear A., yours sincerely,
1 M. Faraday.
4 One necessary branch of knowledge would be that of the steam-engine, and, indeed, anything where iron is concerned. Paper out, pen worn down, so good-day to you.'
The second letter to Abbott is dated July 20, 1812, Monday evening, ten o'clock.
To an honest man, close buttoned to the chin, Broad cloth without, and a warm heart within.
* Here I am, Sir, on the third page of my paper, and have not yet begun to answer your very kind, free, friendly, instructive, amusing, and very welcome letter ; but now I will turn to it and 44 say my say." Pot the first part I thank you; and here note that I
24 LIFE OF FAKADAY.
1812. shall keep you to the following words, " But will not JST.20-21. fail to give them a thorough investigation." I like your logic well. Philosophical accounts, scientific inquiries, humble trials. Ha, ha, ha, hah ! Don't you charge me with ceremony yet, or whilst your style runs thus.
' 1 am exceedingly obliged to you for the observa- tion and quotation you have given me respecting Cupid and galvanism, and return my most grateful thanks to you for the remedy you have pointed out to me against the attacks of the little god — demon, by Le Sage's pardon. You, no doubt, are aware that this is not the first time that he has been conquered by philosophy and science. The last-named person informs us very minutely in what manner he was shut up in a glass bottle, and rendered incapable of doing mischief. Oh that I were as wise as that Sage, that I could shut little cupids in glass bottles ! What exquisite presents they would be to the ladies ! and how irresistible would the fair sex be to all who knew not how to oppose them thus unarmed, though I must confess they are not quite so absolute since the discovery of this anti- amorous remedy, galvanism. You will not have for- gotten, too, when we set the nitrous oxide in opposition to him ; and since galvanism now aids the gas, it is not possible for the little urchin to keep his ground. Farewell to him. I am now going to set my piles in action, in which state I shall leave them all night ; and in the morning I will note down what phenomena I shall perceive Alas! alas! the salt- box is empty, and as it is too late to procure a fresh quantity, I shall wish you all health and happi- ness, and wish you a good-night.'
niS LETTERS WHILST AN APPRENTICE. 25
'Tuesday morning, half-past six o'clock, 1812.
and a fine morning. jBr.20-21*.
* Good-day to you, Sir. I now intend to proceed on with my letter from the point where I left off; not exactly though, for as yet I have no salt, and I do not like to substitute any other solution or any acid, because I suspect both the acid and the alkali bear a part in the transmission of the metals. I am exceedingly obliged to you for your ideas on this sub- ject, and I think I need not say I received it with good- will. I never yet, dear A., received anything from you but what I met with that feeling ; and for the rest of the sentence, had I thought that your mind was so narrow as to be chagrined at seeing a better solution of this phenomenon from another person, I certainly should never have commenced this cor- respondence with you.
4 1 was this morning called by a trifling circumstance to notice the peculiar motions of camphor on water ; I should not have mentioned the simple circumstance but that I thought the effect was owing to electricity, and I supposed that if you were acquainted with the phenomenon, you would notice it. I conceive, too, that a science may be illustrated by those minute actions and effects, almost as much as by more evident and obvious phenomena. Facts are plentiful enough, but we know not how to class them ; many are overlooked because they seem uninteresting : but remember that what led Newton to pursue and discover the law of gravity, and ultimately the laws by which worlds re- volve, was — the fall of an apple.
4 My knife is so bad that I cannot mend my pen witli it; it is now covered with copper, having been em-
26 LIFE OF FARADAY.
1812. ployed to precipitate that metal from the muriatic ^Et. 20-21. acid. This is an excuse — accept it.
'Tuesday evening, eleven o'clock.
4 1 have just finished putting the battery, as you term it, in action, and shall now let it remain for the night, acting on a solution of the muriate of ammonia. This is the disposition made : fifteen plates of zinc and as many of copper are piled up with discs of flannel inter- posed ; fifteen other plates of each metal are formed into a pile with pasteboard, both it and the flannel being soaked in a solution of common salt. These two piles are connected together, and their combined action employed as I before stated. The flash from it, when applied to the gums or eyes, is very vivid, and the action on the tongue, when in contact with the edges, will not allow it to remain there.
' With respect to your second solution of the passage of the metals, I have not time at present to think of it, nor have I room to say more than that I thank you for all on that subject ; wait till I have heard of your experiments. Good-night.
' Tuesday morning, six o'clock.
' I can now only state facts, opinions you shall have next time. On looking at the pile this morning, I found that the muriate of ammonia had been decom- posed, the alkali separated at the negative wire and escaped ; this was evident last night by the cloud it formed with muriatic acid. The acid acted on the copper wire, and a muriate of copper was formed ; this was again decomposed ; and now I- find the negative wire covered with a vegetation of copper, and the positive wire eaten away very considerably. The solu- tion is of a fine blue colour, owing to the ammoniate of
HIS LETTERS WIIILST AN APPRENTICE. 27
copper. On turning to the piles, I found the action of 1812. one considerable, the other was exhausted: the first JJT.20-21. contained the flannel discs, and they were yet very moist ; the other had the paper discs, and they were quite dry : of course you know why the action ceased ? On looking to the state of the plates particularly, I found but one in the pile containing flannel that was in the state I before noticed, that is, it being zinc and possessing a coating of copper. In the paper pile not a single zinc plate was affected that way ; the copper plates in both piles were covered very considerably with the oxide of zinc. I am aware with you that zinc precipitates copper, and that the metals are oxided, before solution, in acid : but how does that effect their motion from one disc to another in contrary directions ? I must trust to your experiments more than my own. I have no time, and the subject requires several.
1 Remember me to all friends, yours unceremoniously,
' M. Faraday.'
His third letter to his friend Abbott is dated August 11,1812.
* Dear A , I make all imaginable haste to assure
you that idleness is a fault which never in my mind was associated with any ideas respecting you ; nay, so opposite to that is my opinion that I conceive, were it not for your good sense, you would sooner be doing mischief than doing nothing. But understand here, dear Sir, once for all, that I never wish to invade your con- veniency in any manner ; on the contrary, I would rather add to it by any means in my power.
* " Pyrotechny is a beautiful art ;" but I never made any practical progress in it except in the forming a few
28 LIFE OP FARADAY.
1812. bad squibs, so that you will gain little from me on that M^20^2i. point.
4 1 thank you for your electrical experiment, but conceive the subject requires a very numerous series and of very various kind. I intend to repeat it, for I am not exactly satisfied of the division of the charge so as to produce more than one perforation. I should be glad if you would add to your description any con- clusion which you by them are induced to make. They would tend to give me a fairer idea of the cir- cumstances.
' I have to notice here a very singular circumstance — namely, a slight dissent in my ideas from you. It is this. You propose not to start one query until the other is resolved, or at least " discussed and experi- mented upon; " but this I shall hardly allow, for the following reasons. Ideas and thoughts often spring up in my mind, and are again irrevocably lost for want of noting at the time. I fancy it is the same with you, and would therefore wish to have any such objections or unsolved points exactly as they appear to you m their full force — that is, immediately after you have first thought of them ; for to delay until the subject in hand is exhausted would be to lose all the intervening ideas. Understand, too, that I preserve your communications as a repositoiy into which I can dip for a subject requiring explanation, and therefore the more you insert the more will it deserve that name ; nevertheless, I do not mean to desert one subject for another directly it is started, but reserve it as an after subject of con- sideration.
. 1I1S LETTERS WHILST AN APPRENTICE. 29
* Sir H. Davy '8 book is, I understand, already pub- 1812. lished, but I have not yet seen it, nor do I know the jEt.2o-2i. price or size. It is entitled, "Elements of Chemical Philosophy."
4 Definitions, dear A., are valuable things ; I like them very much, and will be glad, when you meet with clever ones, if you will transcribe them. I am exceedingly well pleased with Dr. Thomson's definition of chemistry ; he calls it the science of insensible motions : " Che- mistry is that science which treats of those events or changes in natural bodies which consist of insensible motions," in contradistinction to mechanics, which treats of sensible motions.
* How do you define idleness ?
* I forgot to insert a query when at the proper place, though I think an investigation of it would be of im- portance to the science of chemistry, and perhaps electricity. Several of the metals, when rubbed, emit a peculiar smell, and more particularly tin. Now, smells are generally supposed to be caused by particles of the body that are given off. If so, then it introduces to our notice a very volatile property of those metals. But I suspect their electric states are concerned ; and then we have an operation of that fluid that has seldom been noticed, and yet requires accounting for before the science can be completed.
4 Health, happiness, and prosperity be with you ; and believe me continually yours very sincerely,
4 M. Faraday.'
His fourth letter to Abbott is dated August 19, 1812.
30 LIFE OP FARADAY.
1812. * Dear A , .... This letter will be a dull one,
^T.20-21. for I have but few^subjects, and the heat of the weather has so enervated me that I am not able to treat those I have in a proper manner. But rouse up, Michael, and do not disgrace thyself in the opinion of thy friend.
4 1 have again gone over your letter, but am so blinded that I cannot see any subject except chlorine to write on ; but before entering on what I intend shall fill up the letter, I will ask your pardon for having maintained an opinion against one who was so ready to give his own up. I suspect from that circumstance I am wrong .... With respect to chlorine, if we intend to debate the question of its simple or compound nature, we have begun at a wrong point, or rather at no point at all. Conscious of this, I will at this time answer your present objections but briefly, and then give the best statement I can of the subject. The muriate of soda is a compound of chlorine and sodium, and as chlorine in the theory is esteemed a simple substance, I conceive that the name of chlorate of sodium is improper ; ate and ite are the terminations of the generic name of salts, and convey to our minds an idea of the acid that the base is combined with. But chlorine is not an acid ; it is a simple substance belong- ing to the same class as oxygen, and therefore its binary compounds should, I conceive, be termed, in imitation of oxides, chlorides. The muriate of soda is, therefore, a oh\onde of sodium, and the oxymuriate of soda is a compound of that chloride with oxygen.
' I will not say more at present on your objections, since you will now be able to answer them yourself in the same way that I should do ; but I will proceed to the more simple and elementary parts of the subject.
HIS LETTERS WHILST AH APPRENTICE. 31
Iii the present case I conceive that experiments miy be divided into three classes ; 1st, those which are for the old theory of oxymuriatic acid, and consequently oppose the new one ; 2nd, those which are for the new one, and oppose the old theory ; and 3rd, those which can be explained by both theories — apparently so only, for in reality a false theory can never explain a fact. I am not aware of any belonging to the first class ; what appeared to be such at first have on consideration resolved themselves into the third class ; of the second class I will propose a few to you ; and of the third class is that we have already been engaged upon.
* Be not surprised, my dear A., at the ardour with which I have embraced the new theory. I have seen Davy himself support it. I have seen him exhibit experiments, conclusive experiments, explanatory of it, and I have heard him apply those experiments to the theory, and explain and enforce them in (to me) an irresistible manner. Conviction, Sir, struck me, and I was forced to believe him ; and with that belief came ad- miration (then follow experiments).
* I have not time, dear B., at present to close my letter in a proper manner. I shall be at llanelagh to-morrow evening (if fate permits) ; and if we do not meet before, will take my station exactly at nine under the orchestra. Yours truly,
1 M. Faraday.'
His fifth letter to Abbott was written September 9, 1812.
* You wrong me, dear A., if you suppose I think you obstinate for not coinciding in my opinion im-
32 LIFE OP FAEADAY.
1812. mediately ; on the contrary, I conceive it to be but jet.20-21. proper retention. I should be sorry indeed were you to give up your opinion without being convinced of error in it, and should consider it as a mark of fickle- ness in you that I did not expect. It is not for me to affirm that I am right and you wrong ; speaking impartially, I can as well say that I am wrong and you right, or that we both are wrong, and a third right. I am not so self-opinionated as to suppose that my judgment and perception in this or other matters is better or clearer than that of other persons ; nor do I mean to affirm that this is the true theory in reality, but only that my judgment conceives it to be so. Judgments sometimes oppose each other, as in this case ; and as there cannot be two opposing facts in nature, so there cannot be two opposing truths in the intellectual world ; consequently, when judgments op- pose one must be wrong — one must be false ; and mine may be so for aught I can tell. I am not of a superior nature to estimate exactly the strength and correctness of my own and other men's understanding, and will assure you, dear A., that I am far from being con- vinced that my own is always right. I have given you the theory — not as the true one, but as the one which appeared true to me — and when I perceive errors in it, I will immediately renounce it in part or wholly as my judgment may direct. From this, dear friend, you will see that I am very open to conviction ; but from the manner in which I shall answer your letter, you will also perceive that I must be convinced before I renounce.
' You have made a blunder in your letter, A. You say that you will first answer my experiments, and
HIS LETTERS WHILST AN APPRENTICE. 33
then relate others ; but you have only noticed one of mine, and therefore I suppose the answers to the others are to come. " With respect to the taper," do you mean to say that none of its carbon is burnt in atmo- spheric air or oxygen gas ? I understood Davy that none of it was burnt in chlorine gas ; and as for your query of water being formed, I do not believe there was any — not the slightest condensation took place. I did not insist much on this experiment by itself, but had connected it to another where charcoal would not burn. You should have answered them both together.
'Wednesday night, 10.30 p.m.
*I thank you, dear A., most heartily for the amuse- ment and pleasure I have just experienced. I was instructed at the lecture, but expected to see (hear) more of the particular nature of the alkalies, the sub- ject was copious enough. Order was not sufficiently attended to. Yours, I have no doubt, will abound in that respect.
4 You wish to alter the tenor of our arguments ; you conceive that if you prove oxygen to exist in muriatic acid you have done enough. Not so ; if you do that you will do wonders, and I shall certainly pay that respect to it it deserves; but the experiments I have related must also be answered before I change opinions I understand. It is possible to support a new theory of chlorine — namely, that it is a compound of an un- known base and oxygen, but which has never yet been detected separate ; but this will not alter our arguments, since still muriatic acid u considered as the chlorine and hydrogen united, and whilst this chlorine is undecompoeed we must consider it as simple. I was
vol. I. D
34 LIFE OF FARADAY.
1812. considerably surprised to hear you last night charge *jEt.'2o/ me ^h having denied facts. I am not aware that I have denied any ; nor do I wish to do so. I have denied some which have been accounted facts, but those cannot be what you alluded to. Pray point them out to me.
* I shall now answer all your conclusive experiments, and must confess I do not see that difficulty I expected. Do you remember the first experiment you quoted, the solution of a metal in muriatic acid, in which experi- ment you consider the metal as being oxidised at the expense of the acid ? By this means you have arrived at a discovery which has drawn the attention of all great chemists — the decomposition of the muriatic acid ; for by informing us what remains by the deoxidation of the acids by the metal, we shall have its other con- stituent part ; and thus our dispute — no, not dispute, friendly controversy — will end.(^
* I fear, dear A., you will find it hard to decom- pose muriatic acid by the solution of a metal in it. It has never knowingly been done by any of Lavoisier's disciples yet ; or, at least, they have never allowed it. It has been done, and I have before related the experi- ment to you. But, to return to your experiment. When a metal is dissolved in muriatic acid, I believe it is generally the case that hydrogen is evolved. From whence is the hydrogen but from decomposed water ? and in what manner is the oxygen employed but by combining with the metal ? — the oxide is then dissolved. As very prominent instances of this kind I will notice the action of muriatic acid on iron and zinc. Other metals are dissolved by this acid, but I have never noticed the phenomena attendant. If you say the
- HIS LETTERS WHILST AN APPRENTICE. 35
metal obtains oxygen from the acid, inform me what 1812. part of the acid is left, and in what state. jrt'.2o.
1 Secondly, oxygen, I know, may be obtained from the oxymuriates, because they contain it. They are formed by double combination : first a muriate is formed, 1 K'ing a compound of chlorine, and the metallic base of the alkalies, and with this compound oxygen combines. By applying heat, the only operation that takes place is the driving off of oxygen — but more of this when I have detailed further to you Davy's theory, though you must perceive the experiments are as easily ex- plained thus as by Lavoisier's opinion.
4 Thirdly, you can refer, I presume, to J. Davy's experiment, and therefore I shall give here only my opinion on it, whether mechanical or chemical. If the oxide is held mechanically in the ferrane, as he sup- poses, it makes no part of the compound of chlorine and iron, and, of course, does not affect the subject at all in my idea ; and if chemically, which is not at all probable, it does not make its appearance until water is added, and then it is easily accounted for : but in order to estimate the experiments exactly, it will be necessary to consider the manner in which ferrane is formed.
* I come next to your remarks, of which I own the propriety ; and though I do not suppose that at any time I can make experiments with more exactness and precision than those I have quoted, yet certainly the performance would give us a clearer idea. I accept of your offer to fight it out with joy, and shall in the battle experience and cause, not pain, but I hope pleasure ; nevertheless, I will, if you will allow me, give, whilst I have time and opportunity, and whilst my
p 2
36 LIFE OF FARADAY.
1812. ideas are fresh and collected, what little more I know jet. 20.- of this theory ; not requiring your immediate answer to it, but leaving it to your leisure consideration.
'One circumstance, amongst many others, which makes a difference between chlorine and the acids is the change it causes in vegetable colours. It does not turn them red as the acids do, but it destroys them entirely, and makes the body white, and the colour can be restored by neither acids nor alkalies. Pure chlo- rine has no effect upon vegetable colours at all, as has been proved ; but when water is present, it decomposes it, and the oxygen causes the change of colour. Acids act by combining with the colours without decomposition, but chlorine acts by presenting oxygen to them (having first liberated it from water by taking to itself the hy- drogen). Muriatic acid is formed.
* Sir H. Davy, I believe, was first induced to make an experimental inquiry into the nature of muriatic acid, by observing that it could never be obtained from oxymuriatic acid or the dry muriates, unless water or its constituent parts were present. Having noticed that this phenomenon never took place in his general experiments, he made some directly to ascertain the point, and found that he was incapable of obtaining that acid from the dry muriates, or from what has been considered as a combination of it with oxygen. Neither oxygen nor muriatic acid can be obtained, or at least has been obtained, from the oxymuriatic acid. This circumstance it was that first induced Davy to prose- cute the inquiry, and is a high stumbling-block to the Lavoisierian theory of this acid. There is an experiment of the reciprocal decomposition of ammonia and the oxymuriatic gas that appears directly opposite to this?
HIS LETTERS WHILST AN APPRENTICE. 37
theory of chlorine. So it appeared to Davy, and of 1812. course lie examined it in order to see what conclusions jet". 20. it would lead to. He found that it had been generally too loosely made, and the opinion that water is formed too hastily adopted ; he found that when those gases, pure and dry, were mixed in the proportions of one of chlorine to three of alkali, no water was formed, but the product was dry and solid muriate of ammonia, with about one-tenth of nitrogen gas. The chlorine had decomposed a part of the ammonia, the nitrogen of which was liberated ; the hydrogen it united to forming muriatic acid, and then a muriate of ammonia was formed.
'Chlorine forms binary compounds not only with hydrogen, phosphorus, and sulphur, but also with several of the metals, amongst which are the bases of the alkalies and alkaline earths. When tin is heated in chlorine gas, both the metal and gas disappear, and a liquid, being the Liquor of Libavius, or a muriate of tin, is obtained. This substance is a binary compound only ; if ammoniacal gas is added to it, no decomposi- tion takes place, but the gas and the stannum (as Davy terms it) combine, and a solid volatile body is obtained. What is this volatile body by the Lavoisierian theory ?
* Some of the combustibles, including metals, have a stronger affinity for chlorine than for oxygen ; others have a stronger affinity for oxygen than for chlorine. When the affinity of the chlorine exceeds that of the oxygen, it can be employed to decompose the oxides, in which case it separates the oxygen. When a piece of potassium is inflamed in oxygen gas, it unites to the chlorine, and a dry muriate of potass is formed. If an oxide of potassium (not potash that is an hydrate)
38 LIFE OF FARADAY.
is used, the chlorine combines with the metal, and the oxygen is liberated, a muriate is formed. If the red oxide of mercury is heated in chlorine gas, the metal and gas unite, and the oxygen is given out, corrosive sublimate is formed. If lime is heated in chlorine gas, the base or metal calcium unites to the chlorine, and the oxygen is given out; and in this way can the alkalies and alkaline earths be decomposed. I know well your answer to this, " Oh, the acid parts with oxygen, and then the simple muriatic acid and the base combine ; " but not too fast : if so, then the same quantity of oxygen should always be liberated from the same quantity of oxymuriatic acid gas ; but that is not the case. The quantity of oxygen varies with an equal portion of chlorine gas, but is always in exact proportion to the quantity contained in the oxides — a clear proof that it is given out by them and not by the chlorine. Indeed, it appears singular to say that the oxygen is given out by a body (chlorine) from which it has never yet been directly (or any other way) ob- tained when other bodies are present containing it in exactly similar proportions.
' Amongst other experiments, Sir H. Davy heated some dry muriatic acid gas in contact with the peroxide of manganese, also very dry ; water was rapidly formed and chlorine gas was liberated. How do you explain this ? I know well your theory, but you cannot account for the production of the water : in reality, the muriatic acid was decomposed, its hydrogen united to the oxygen of the oxide, and formed water, and the chlorine re- mained free. I should have observed that the black oxide was reduced to the brown oxide of manganese.
' I have before adverted to the peculiar action of chlorine on vegetable colours, but I shall now intimate
niS LETTERS WHILST AN APPRENTICE. 39
that iu reality it does not act upon them at all. Sir II. 1812. Davy made some experiments, where the dry and pure jet. 20. gas produced no effect on litmus paper when the con- tact was continued some time. His gas was freed from water by the muriate of lime, and then it did not at all affect litmus paper or other vegetable colour. At the same time litmus paper was instantly rendered white, and also paper not previously dried, when immersed in the dry gas, slowly underwent the change ; but when no water was present no bleaching powers were ex- hibited. This certainly proves chlorine to be of a very different nature to the acids, since it in reality has no action upon vegetable colours. It only destroys them by decomposing water, and by liberating and giving to them oxygen.
* Davy in his Bakerian lecture says that " most of the salts which have been called muriates are not known to contain muriatic acid or any oxygen. Thus Libavius Liquor, though converted into a muriate by water, contains only tin and oxymuriatic gas, and horn silver seems incapable of being converted into a true muriate."
* With respect to the affinity of the metals and inflammable bodies with chlorine and oxygen, he says that potassium, sodium, calcium, magnesium, barium, zinc, mercury, tin, lead, and probably silver, antimony, and gold seem to have a stronger affinity for oxy- muriatic gas than for oxygen ; but boron, phosphorus, iron, and arsenic have apparently a stronger affinity for oxygen than chlorine.
4 It is now time to conclude, dear A., which I do with best wishes to yourself and friends. In my next I will conclude the subject with euchlorine, when I will again subscribe myself, your sincere friend,
4 M. Faraday.'
40 LIFE OF FARADAY.
1812.
^t. 20.
Postscript
1 Dear A , I have received yours of to-day, the
perusal of which has raised in my mind a tumult of
petty passions, amongst which are predominant vexation,
sorrow, and regret. I write under the influence of
them, and shall inform you candidly of my feelings at
this moment. You will see by the foregoing part of
this letter that I have not acted in unison with your
request by dropping the subject of chlorine, and for
not having done so I feel very considerable sorrow.
I had at various short intervals, as time would permit,
drawn it up, and felt, I will own, gratified on reading
it over; but the reception of yours has made me
most heartily regret it. Pity me, dear A., in that I
have not sufficiently the mastery of my feelings and
passions. In the first part of this long epistle you
will see the reasons I have given for continuing the
subject, but I fancy that I can now see the pride and
self-complacency that led me on ; and I am fearful that
I was influenced by thinking that I had a superior
knowledge in this particular subject. Being now aware
of this passion, I have made a candid confession of it
to you, in hopes to lessen it by mortifying it and
humiliating it. You will of course understand that I
shall not now enter on euchlorine until it is convenient
for both of us, when I hope to take up the subject
uninfluenced by any of those humiliating, and to a
philosopher disgraceful, feelings.
c I subscribe myself, with humility, yours sincerely,
' M. Faraday.'
HIS LETTERS WHILST AX APPRENTICE. 41
The sixth letter was written to Abbott, Septem- 1812. ber20, 181'J. Is^hT
'What? afBrra you have little to say, and yet a
philosopher ! What a contradiction ! what a paradox !
'tis a circumstance I till now had no idea of, nor shall
I at any time allow you to advance it as a plea for
not writing. A philosopher cannot fail to abound in
subjects, and a philosopher can scarcely fail to have a
plentiful flow of words, ideas, opinions, &c. &c, when
engaged on them ; at least, I never had reason to
suppose you deficient there. Query by Abbott : " Then
pray, Mike, why have you not answered my last before
now, since subjects are so plentiful ? " 'Tis neither
more nor less, dear A., than a want of time. Time, Sir,
is all I require, and for time will I cry out most
heartily. Oh that I could purchase at a cheap rate
some of our modern gents' spare hours, nay, days ; I
think it would be a good bargain both for them and
me. As for subjects, there is no want of them. I
could converse with you, I will not say for ever, but
for any finite length of time. Philosophy would
furnish us with matter ; and even now, though I have
said nothing, yet the best part of a page is covered.
* How prone is man to evil ! and how strong a proof have I of that propensity when even the liberal breast of my friend A. could harbour the vice of cove- tousness ! Nevertheless, on a due consideration of the cause, and a slight glance at my own feelings on the same subject (they will not bear a strict scrutiny), I pass it over thus
'Your commendations of the MS. lectures compel
42 LIFE OF FARADAY.
1812. me to apologise most humbly for the numerous — very ^t.2o-2i. very numerous — errors they contain. If I take you right, the negative words " no flattery " may be sub- stituted by the affirmative " irony : " be it so, I bow to the superior scholastic erudition of Sir Ben. There are in them errors that will not bear to be jested with, since they concern not my own performance so much as the performance of Sir H. There are, I am con- scious, errors in theory, and those errors I would wish you to point out to me before you attribute them to Davy.'
His seventh letter to his friend was written Sep- tember 28, 1812.
* Dear A , I plead guilty to your criticism on
the word task, and earnestly beg pardon for any offence my expression may have been calculated to give. I trust so much in your goodness, I have no doubt you will grant it, and set at ease and liberty your humble servant ; lest I should err again, 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 plea-sing 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 con- ductor and a non-conductor ; had the interposed me- dium 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
HIS LETTERS WHILST AN APPRENTICE. 43
a spark over it, but by this varying and disjoined con- 1812. ductor it has been divided most effectually. Should Mt.21. 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.'
His eighth letter to Abbott is dated October 1, 1812 ; it was the last that he wrote before his apprenticeship ended.
' No — no — no — no, none ; right — no, philosophy is not dead yet — no— 0 no ; he knows it — thank you — 'tis impossible — bravo !
* In the above lines, dear A., you have full and explicit answers to the first page of yours dated Sep- tember 28. I was paper-hanging at the time I received
44 LIFE OP FARADAY.
it ; but what a change of thought it occasioned ; what a concussion, confusion, conglomeration ; what a revolu- tion of ideas it produced — oh ! 'twas too much ; — away went cloths, shears, paper, paste and brush, all — all was too little, all was too light to keep my thoughts from soaring high, connected close with thine.
' With what rapture would a votary of the Muses grasp that inimitable page ! how would he dwell on every line and pore on every letter ! and with what horror, dread, disgust, and every repulsive passion, would he start back from the word BAKILLA to which I now come ! I cannot here refrain from re- gretting my inability (principally for want of time) to perform the experiments you relate to me. I mean not to reflect on any want of clearness in your details ; on the contrary, I congratulate you on the quickness with which you note and observe any new appearances ; but the sight possesses such a superiority over the other senses, in its power of conveying to the mind fair ideas, that I wish in every case to use it. I am much gratified with your account of the barilla ; but do I read right that part of your letter which says that the salt you obtained from the first treatment of it was efflorescent ? As I went on to that passage, I did not expect that you would obtain any crystals at all, but only an uniform mass ; but that crystals containing so great a quantity of alkali, in I suppose nearly a free state, should give out water to the atmosphere, surprised me exceedingly — explain, if you please.
'I rejoice in your determination to pursue the sub- ject of electricity, and have no doubt that I shall have some very interesting letters on the subject. I shall
niS LETTERS WHILST AN AITRENTICE. 45
certainly wish to (and will if possible) be present at the 1812. performance of the experiments ; but you know I shall Mr. 21. shortly enter on the life of a journeyman, and then I suppose time will be more scarce than it is even now.
i Venus, I find, is amongst your visible planets — 'tis a — beautiful — object — certainly.'
46 LIFE .OP FARADAY.
CHAPTEE II.
JOURNEYMAN BOOKBINDER AND CHEMICAL ASSISTANT AT THE ROYAL INSTITUTION.
1812. On October 8, 1812, Faraday went as a journeyman Mr. 2i. bookbinder to a Mr. De la Boche, then a French emi- grant in London. He was a very passionate man, ' and gave his assistant so much trouble that he felt he could not remain in his place,' although his master held out every inducement to him to stay, and even said to him, ' I have no child, and if you will stay with me you shall have all I have when I am gone.'
The letters which Faraday wrote to his friends Abbott and Huxtable show ' how eager was the desire he felt to proceed further in the way of philosophy,' and how strongly he was drawn towards ' the service of science ; ' they also show how far he had educated himself when he first went to the Royal Institution, and they give an insight into his character when he changed his course of life, and began his scientific career at the very lowest step, but under the greatest master of the time.
Four days after his apprenticeship ended, he wrote to his friend Abbott.
HIS LETTERS WHILST A WORKING BOOKBINDER. 47
'Sunday afternoon, October 11, 1812. 1812.
* Dear A , I thank you heartily for your letter &*■ 21.
yesterday, the which gave me greater pleasure than
any one I had before received from you. I know not whether you will be pleased by such commendation or not ; it is the best I can bestow. I intend at this time to answer it, but would wish you, before you read the ensuing matter, to banish from your mind all frivolous passions. It is possible that what I may say would only tend to give rise (under their influence) to disdain, contempt, &c., for at present I am in as serious a mood as you can be, and would not scruple to speak a truth to any human being, whatever repugnance it might give rise to. Being in this state of mind, I should have refrained from writing to you, did I not conceive, from the general tenor of your letter, that your mind is, at proper times, occupied on serious subjects to the exclu- sion of those which comparatively are frivolous.
* I cannot fail to feel gratified, my dear friend, at the post I appear to occupy in your mind, and I will very openly affirm that I attach much greater importance to that interest since the perusal of your last. I would much rather engage the good opinion of one moral philosopher who acts up to his precepts, than the at- tentions and commonplace friendship of fifty natural philosophers. This being my mind, I cannot fail to think more honourably of my friend since the confirm- ation of my good opinion, and I now feel somewhat satisfied that I have judged him rightly.
1 As for the change you suppose to have taken place with respect to my situation and affairs, I have to thank my late master that it is but little. Of liberty and time I have, if possible, less than l>efore, though I hope my
48 LIFE OF FARADAY.
circumspection has not at the same time decreased ; I am well aware of the irreparable evils that an abuse of those blessings will give rise to. These were pointed out to me by common sense, nor do I see how any one who considers his own station, and his own free occu- pations, pleasures, actions, &c, can unwittingly engage himself in them, I thank that Cause to whom thanks are due that I am not in general a profuse waster of those blessings which are bestowed on me as a human being — I mean health, sensation, time, and temporal resources. Understand me clearly here, for I wish much not to be mistaken. I am well aware of my own nature, it is evil, and I feel its influence strongly ; I know too that — but I find that I am passing insensibly to a point of divinity, and as those matters are not to be treated lightly, I will refrain from pursuing it. All I meant to say on that point was that I keep regular hours, enter not intentionally into pleasures productive of evil, reverence those who require reverence from me, and act up to what the world calls good. I appear moral and hope that I am so, though at the same time I consider morality only as a lamentably deficient state. ' I know not whether you are aware of it by any means, but my mind delights to occupy itself on serious subjects, and I am never better pleased than when I am in conversation with a companion of my own turn of mind. I have to regret that the expiration of my apprenticeship hath deprived me of the frequent com- pany and conversation of a very serious and improving young companion, but I am now in hopes of a com- pensation by the acquisition of, at times, a letter from you. I am very considerably indebted to him for the sober turn or bent of my reason, and heartily thank him for it. In our various conversations we have fre-
HIS LETTERS WHILST A BOOKBINDER. 49
quently touched on the different parts of your letter, 1812^ and I have every reason to suppose that, by so doing, jRr. 21. we have been reciprocally benefitted.
* I cannot help but be pleased with the earnest manner in which you enforce the necessity of precaution in respect of new acquaintances. I have long been con- scious of it, and it is that consciousness which Hunts my friends to the very small number that comprises them. I feel no hesitation in saying that I scrutinised you long and closely before I satisfied the doubts in my breast, but I now trust they are all allayed.
* It appears that in the article of experience you are my superior. You have been tried ; if the result of the trial satisfies your own good sense and inward admoni- tions, I rest satisfied that you acted rightly. I am well aware that to act rightly is at times difficult ; our judg- ment and good sense are oftentimes opposed, and that strongly too, by our passions and wishes. That we may never give up the first for the sake of the last is the earnest wish of your friend.
* I have made use of the term friend several times, and in one place I find the expression commonplace friendship. It will perhaps not be improper at this time to give you my ideas on true friendship and eligible companions. In every action of our lives I conceive that reference ought to be had to a Superior Being, and in nothing ought we to oppose or act con- trary to His precepts. These ideas make me extremely displeased with the general and also the ancient idea of friendship. A few lines strike upon my mind at this moment ; they begin thus : —
A generous friendship no cold medium knows, But with ono love, with one resentment glows, &c.
VOL. I. E
50 LIFE OF FARADAY.
1812. and convey sentiments that in my mind give rise to jEm. 21. extreme disgust. According to what I have said, a few lines above, I would define a friend, a true friend, to be " one who will serve his companion next to his God ; " nor will I admit that an immoral person can fill completely the character of a true friend. Having this idea of friendship, it was natural for me to make a self-inquiry, whether I could fill the character, but I am not satis- fied with my own conclusions on that point ; I fear I cannot. True friendship I consider as one of the sub- limest feelings that the human mind is capable of, and requires a mind of almost infinite strength, and at the same time of complete self-knowledge. Such being the case, and knowing my own deficiency in those points, I must admire it, but fear I cannot attain it. The above is my opinion of true friendship, a passion or feeling I have never personally met with, and a subject that has been understood by very few that I have discussed it with. Amongst my companions I am conscious of only one who thinks the same of it that I do, but who confesses his inability to fill the character.
1 When meditating and examining the character of a person with respect to his fitness for a companion, I go much farther than is generally the case. A good com- panion, in the common acceptation of the word, is one who is respectable both in connection and manners, is not in a lower rank of life than oneself, and does not openly or in general act improperly ; this I say is the common meaning of the word, but I am by no means satisfied with it. I have met a good companion in the lowest path of life, and I have found such as I despised in a rank far superior to mine. A companion cannot
, HIS LETTERS WHILST A BOOKBINDER. 51
be a good one unless he is morally so ; and however 1812. engaging may be his general habits, and whatever " jEt.'2i." pecuhar circumstances may be connected with him, so as to make him desirable, reason and common sense point him out as an improper companion or acquaint- ance unless his nobler faculties, his intellectual powers, are, in proportion, as correct as his outward behaviour. What am I to think of that person who, despising the improvement and rectitude of his mind, spends all his efforts in arranging into a nice form his body, speech, habits, &c. ? Is he an estimable character ? Is he a commendable companion ? No, surely not. Nor will such ever gain my commendation. On re- collecting myself, I fancy I have said enough on this subject ; I will therefore draw towards a conclusion.
1 1 am in hopes of again hearing from you at some of your serious moments, at which time you, of course, will express yourself as I have done, without ceremony. But I must conclude in confidence that you are an eligible companion ; and wishing that you may attain even to the character of a true friend,
4 1 remain yours, dear A., very sincerely,
' M. Faraday.'
A few days later he writes to his friend Mr. Huxtable.
1 London, October 18, 1812.
'Dear Huxtable, — You will be at a loss to know what to think of me, inasmuch as near two months have expired, and you have not, in that time, received any answer to your agreeable communication. I have to beg your pardon for such delay, and scarce know how satisfactorily to account for it. I have indeed acted
i)
52 LIFE OF FARADAY.
1812. unadvisedly on that point, for, conceiving that it would jet. 21. be better to delay ray answer until my time was expired, I did so. That took place on October 7, and since then I have had by far less time and liberty than before. With respect to a certain place I was disappointed, and am now working at my old trade, the which I wish to leave at the first convenient opportunity. I hope (though fear not) that you will be satisfied with this cause for my silence ; and if it appears insufficient to you, I must trust to your goodness. With respect to the progress of the sciences I know but little, and am now likely to know still less ; indeed, as long as I stop in my present situa- tion (and I see no chance of getting out of it just yet), I must resign philosophy entirely to those who are more fortunate in the possession of time and means.
' Sir H. Davy is at present, I believe, in Scotland. I do not know that he has made any further advances in Chemical Science. He is engaged in publishing a new work, called " The Elements of Chemical Philosophy," which will contain, I believe, all his discoveries, and will likewise be a detail of his philosophical opinions. One part of the first volume is published. It is in price lis. or 12s. Qd. I have not yet seen it. Abbott, whom you know some little about, has become a member of the City Philosophical Society, which is held at Tatum's house every Wednesday evening. He (Abbott) has sent me a ticket for admission next Wednesday to a lecture ; but as you know their rules, I have no need to enter further into them.
i With Abbott I continue a very intimate and pleasing acquaintance. I find him to be a very well-informed young man. His ideas are correct, and his knowledge, general as well as philosophical, is extensive. He acts too with a propriety of behaviour equal to your own,
HIS LETTERS WHILST A BOOKBINDER. 53
and I congratulate myself much on the acquisition of 1812. two such friends as yourself and him. jet. 21.
' How are you situated now ? Do you intend to stop in the country, or are you again coming up to London ? I was in hopes that I should see you shortly again. Not that I wish to interfere in your arrangements, but for the pleasure it would give me. But I must not be selfish. It is possible that you may be settled where you are at present, or other strong and urgent reasons may exist that will keep you there. If it is so, I wish they may be such as will afford you pleasure, and tend to increase the happiness and comfort of your life.
* I am at present in very low spirits, and scarce know how to continue on in a strain that will be anyway agreeable to you ; I will therefore draw to a close this dull epistle, and conclude with wishing you all health and happiness, assuring you that I am sincerely yours,
4M. Faraday.
1 Mr. T. Huxtahle, at Mr. Anthony's, South Moulton, Devonshire.'
Among the scanty notes left by Faraday of his own life, he says : * Under the encouragement of Mr. Dance,' who had taken him to the lectures at the Eoyal Insti- tution, * I wrote to Sir Humphry Davy, sending, as a proof of my earnestness, the notes I had taken of his last four lectures. The reply was immediate, kind, and favourable. After this I continued to work as a book- binder, with the exception of some days during which I was writing as an amanuensis for Sir H. Davy, at the time when the latter was wounded in the eye from an explosion of the chloride of nitrogen.'
Faraday gave to Dr. Paris a fuller account of his first acquaintance with Sir H. Davy. This was published in 'The Life of Davy,' by Dr. Paris, vol. ii. p. 2.
54
LIFE OF FARADAY.
TO J. A. PARIS, M.D*
' 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 the goodness of his heart.
1 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 Eoyal Institution, took me to hear some of Sir H. Davy's last lectures in Albemarle Street. I took notes, and after- wards 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 com- munication, 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.
1 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 Eoyal 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
niS FIRST INTERVIEW WITn SIR II. DAVY. 55
but poorly rewarding those who devoted themselves 1812. to her service. He smiled at my notion of the superior .St. 21. 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.
1 Finally, through his good efforts, I went to the Eoyal 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 writ- ing. 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, ever truly yours,
' M. Faraday.'
The following is the note of Sir H. Davy alluded to in Mr. Faraday's letter : —
TO MR. FARADAY.
1 December 24, 1812.
4 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 January ; I will then see you at any time you wish. It would gratify me to be of any ser- vice to you ; I wish it may be in my power.
4 1 am, Sir, your obedient humble servant,
* H. Davy.'
Not only did Sir H. Davy, at his first interview,1 advise him to keep in business as a bookbinder, but he
* Thin interview took place by the window which is nearest to the corridor, in the anteroom to the theatre.
56 LIFE OF FARADAY.
promised to give him the work of the Institution, as well as his own and that of as many of his friends as he could influence.
One night, when undressing in Weymouth Street, Faraday was startled by a loud knock at the door ; and on looking out he saw a carriage from which the foot- man had alighted and left a note for him. This was a request from Sir H. Davy that he would call on him the next morning. Sir H. Davy then referred to their former interview, and inquired whether he was still in the same mind, telling him that if so he would give him the place of assistant in the laboratory of the Eoyal Institution, from which he had on the previous day ejected its for- mer occupant. The salary was to be 25s. a week, with two rooms at the top of the house.
In the minutes of the meeting of managers on March 1, 1813, is this entry: — ' 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 situa- tion. 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.
' Eesolved, — That Michael Faraday be engaged to fill the situation lately occupied by Mr. Payne on the same terms.'
As early as March 8, seven days after his appoint- ment, Faraday dates his first letter from the Eoyal Institution to his friend Abbott.
HIS ENGAGEMENT AS CHEMICAL ASSISTANT. 57
1 Royal Institution, March 8, 1813. igj3
* It is now about nine o'clock, and the thought strikes -St. 21. me that the tongues are going both at Tatura'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 ex- tracting the sugar from a portion of beetroot, and also in making a compound of sulphur and carbon — a com- bination which has lately occupied in a considerable de- gree 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.
* You must not expect a long letter from me at this time, for I assure you my hand feels somewhat strange in the occupation, and my thoughts come but lazily ; this must plead in excuse for so uninteresting a com- pound, and I entertain but little doubt that it wil gain it. * M. Faraday.'
Amongst the few notes he made of his own life there are two or three which relate to this year. The fn>t has reference to his joining the City Philosophical Society. 'This,' he says, * was founded in 1808 at Mr.
58 LIFE OF FARADAY.
Tatum's house, and I believe by him. He introduced me as a member of the Society in 1813. Magrath was Secretary to the Society. It consisted of thirty or forty individuals, perhaps all in the humble or moderate rank of life. Those persons met every Wednesday evening for mutual instruction. Every other Wednes- day the members were alone, and considered and discussed such questions as were brought forward by each in turn. On the intervening Wednesday evenings friends also of the members were admitted, and a lecture was delivered, literary or philosophical, each member taking the duty, if possible, in turn (or in default paying a fine of half a guinea). This Society was very moderate in its pretensions, and most valuable to the members in its results.' (' I remember, too,' says one of the members, ' we had a " class-book " in which, in rotation, we wrote essays, and passed it to each other's houses.')
Another note also relates to the self-education which now as ever he was striving to obtain.
' During this spring Magrath and I established the mutual-improvement plan, and met at my rooms up in the attics of the Eoyal 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 criti- cise, 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.' Saturday night was the time of meeting at the Eoyal Institution, in the furthest and uppermost room in the house, then Faraday's place of residence.
HIS FIRST LETTERS FROM THE INSTITUTION. 69
The letters which Faraday wrote to Abbott this 1813. year give not only an insight into his mind when he jet. si. first came to the Eoyal Institution, but show the work on which he immediately entered in the laboratory, and the amount of skill in chemical manipulation which he must have gained by experiments in Blandford Street.
In four of the letters he made remarks on lecture rooms, lectures, apparatus, diagrams, experiments, audiences : these show the keenness of his observation, the abun- dance of his ideas, and the soundness of his judgment ; and it is worthy of notice that he wrote without the slightest forecast of his future career. He says, ■ It may perhaps appear singular and improper that one who is entirely unfit for such an office himself, and who does not even pretend to any of the requisites for it, should take upon him to censure and to commend others,' &c. ; and yet within two years and a half, he began a course of lectures on Chemistry at the City Philosophical Society, and he continued to lecture for thirty-eight years at the Eoyal Institution. Moreover, the reputation he had with the world in general as a scientific lecturer was certainly not less than that which he gained among scientific men as a philosopher and as an experiment- alist. He used every aid to improve his language and method, and to avoid even the slightest peculiarity ; and yet he kept his simplicity and natural manner, as though he had never profited by professional instruc- tion nor owed anything to friendly correction.
His next letter to his friend was written six weeks after he came to the Institution. /
/
60 LIFE OF FARADAY.
' Thursday evening, April 9, 1813.
' Dear A , A stranger would certainly think you
and I were a couple of very simple beings, since we find it necessary to write to each other though we so often personally meet; but the stranger would, in so judging, only fall into that error which envelopes all those who decide from the outward appearances of things. He would perceive that we meet and that we write ; and he would perceive no more unless he possessed more than common sagacity. But I trust that not only mine, but your intentions also in writing are for the improvement not only of yourself but of me ; and as I know, or at least believe, that you are very willing I should bur- nish myself up a bit, you must suffer me to write you another perhaps long letter. When writing to you, I seize that opportunity of striving to describe a circumstance or an experiment clearly ; so that you will see I am urged on by selfish motives partly to our mutual corre- spondence, but though selfish, yet not censurable.
' Agreeable to what I have said above, I shall at this time proceed to acquaint you with the results of some more experiments on the detonating compound of chlorine and azote ; and I am happy to say I do it at my ease, for I have escaped (not quite unhurt) from four different and strong explosions of the substance. Of these the most terrible was when I was holding between my thumb and finger a small tube containing 7 J grains of it. My face was within twelve inches of the tube ; but I fortunately had on a glass mask. It exploded by the slight heat of a small piece of cement that touched the glass above half an inch from the substance, and on the outside. The explosion was so rapid as to blow my hand open, tear off a part of one nail, and has made my
1IIS FIRST LETTERS FROM THE INSTITUTION. 61
fingers so sore that I cannot yet use them easily. The 1813. pieces of tube were projected with such force as to cut jet. 11. the glass face of the mask I had on. But to proceed with an account of the experiments : —
*A tube was filled with dry boiled mercury, and in- verted in a glass containing also mercury, a portion of the compound was thrown up into it, and it was then left to act all last night. On examining it this morning the compound was gone ; a substance was formed in the tube, and a gas obtained : this gas was azote, the sub- stance corrosive mercury, evidently proving it to be a compound of chlorine or oxymuriatic acid gas and azote. On repeating the experiment this morning, as soon as it was thrown up it exploded, and the tube and a receiver were blown to pieces. I got a cut on my eyelid, and Sir H. bruised his hand.
• A portion of it was then introduced into a tube, and a stop-cock connected to it. It was then taken to the air-pump, and exhausted until we supposed the substance to have rose and filled the tube with vapour. It was then heated by a spirit-lamp, and in a few moments an inflammation took place in the tube : but all stood firm. On taking it off from the pump, in order to ascertain the products, it was found that so much common air had passed in from the barrels of the pump as to render the experiment indecisive ; and therefore it was repeated this morning with a larger portion of the substance. When put in the pump it was exhausted, and there stood for a moment or two, and then exploded with a fearful noise : both Sir H. and I had masks on, but I escaped this time the best. Sir H. had his face cut in two places about the chin, and a violent blow on the forehead struck through a considerable thickness of silk and leather ; and
G2 LIFE OF FARADAY.
with this experiment he has for the present concluded. The specific gravity of this substance, as ascertained yesterday by comparing its weight with the weight of an equal bulk of water, is 1*95, so that my former esti- mate is incorrect ; but you will excuse it as being the estimate of a tyro in chemical science.
' Such are some few of the properties of this terrible compound, and such are the experiments in which those properties are evinced ; from these it appears to be a compound of chlorine and azote, for the presence of any other body has not been satisfactorily proved. It is a body which confers considerable importance on azote, which has till now been celebrated chiefly for negative properties. It shows its energy when united in this com- bination ; and in this compound, too, azote is rendered capable of decomposing the muriatic acid, as shown by the experiment related in my last : it combines with the hydrogen to form ammonia, and the chlorine of the com- pound and of the acid are liberated.
'This compound is of such explosive power as to render it imprudent to consider it at any time and in any state as secure. Oftentimes it will explode in an experiment that has been before made five or six times with perfect safety, and in which you have been lulled into a dangerous security. I was yesterday putting some into a clean dry tube, when it exploded on touch- ing the glass, and rushed in my face ; so that it is, as I before said, improper to consider it at any time as secure.
' But away with philosophy at present. Eemember me to all friends within the ethereal atmosphere of
HIS FIRST LETTERS FROM T1IK INSTITUTION. 63
Bermondsey ; and believe me to be, what I hope shortly 1813. to assure you personally I am, yours truly, Mt. 21.
'M. Faraday.'
The next letter to Abbott is written on May 12.
'The monk, for the chastisement of his body and mortification of his sensual lusts and worldly appetites, abstains from pleasures and even the simple supplies that nature calls for ; the miser, for reasons as strong though diametrically opposite — the gratification of a darling passion — does exactly the same, and leaves unenjoyed every comfort of life ; but I, for no reason at all, have neglected that which constitutes one of my greatest pleasures, and one that may be enjoyed with the greatest propriety, till on a sudden, as the dense light of the electric flash pervades the horizon, so struck the thought of A. through my soul.
' And yet, B., though I mean to write to you at this time, I have no subject in particular out of which I can cut a letter. I shall, therefore (if you will allow me a second simile), follow the pattern of the expert sempstress who, when she has cut out all her large and important works, collects and combines, as fancy may direct, pieces of all sorts and sizes, shapes and colours, and calls it patch-work — such a thing will this epistle most probably turn out ; begun one day, yet most likely finished on another ; formed of things no other- wise connected than as they stand upon the paper — things, too, of different kinds. It may well be called patch-work, or work which pleases none more than the maker. What is the matter with the thumb and forefinger of your right hand ? and yet, though they
64 LIFE OF FARADAY.
1813. be ever so much out of order, it can scarcely excuse ^Et. 21. your long silence. I have expected something from you before now, even though it might be written with the left hand.
' " He that hath not music in his heart," &c. Con- found the music, say I ; it turns my thoughts quite round, or rather half way round, from the letter. You must know, Sir, that there is a grand party at dinner at Jacques' Hotel, which immediately faces the back of the Institution ; and the music is so excellent, that I cannot for the life of me help running at every new piece they play to the window to hear them. I shall do no good at this letter to-night, and so will get to bed, and " listen, listen to the voice of " bassoons, violins, clarionettes, trumpets, serpents, and all the accessories to good music. I can't stop. Good-night.
* May 14th. — What a singular compound is man ! what strange contradictory ingredients enter into his composition, and how completely each one predominates for a time, according as it is favoured by the tone of the mind and senses, and other exciting circumstances! — at one time grave, circumspect, and cautious ; at another, silly, headstrong, and careless ; — now conscious of his dignity, he considers himself a lord of the creation, yet in a few hours will conduct himself in a way that places him beneath the level of beasts ; at times free, frivolous, and open, his tongue is an unobstructed conveyer of his thoughts — thoughts which, on after- consideration, make him ashamed of his former be- haviour ; indeed, the numerous paradoxes, anomalies, and contradictions in man exceed in number all that can be found in nature elsewhere, and separate and distinguish him, if nothing else did, from every other created object, organised or not. The study of these cir-
HI8 PIKST LETTEBS FKOM THE INSTITUTION. 65
cumstances is not uninteresting, inasmuch as knowledge 1818. of them enables us to conduct ourselves with much jet. 21. more propriety in every situation in life. Without knowing how far we ourselves are affected by them, we should be unable to trust to our discretion amongst other persons; and without some knowledge of the part they bear or make in their own position, we should be unable to behave to them unreserved and with freedom.
* It was my intention, when I again sat down to this letter, to obliterate all the former part of it ; but the thoughts I have just set down were sufficient to alter my determination. I have left them as being the free utterance of an unemployed mind, and delineating a true part of my constitution ; I believe, too, that I know sufficiently of the component parts of my friend as to justify my confidence in letting them remain unaltered.
* For much more I have neither room nor time to spare ; nor, had I, would I lengthen what is already too long ; yet, as a clock, after giving warning, passes on for a few moments before it strikes, so do I linger on the paper. It is my intention to accept of your kind invitation for Simday morning (further your de- ponent knoweth not); and I shall, therefore, take the liberty of seeing you after breakfast, at about 9.45 ; till when I remain, with respects to all friends, yours truly,
4 M. Fabaday.'
The next letter to Abbott is dated June 1, 1813.
4 Dear A , Again I resort, for pleasure and to
dispel the dulness of a violent headache, to my cor- vol. I. F
66 LIFE OP FARADAY.
1813. respondence with you, though perfectly unfit for it jEt. 21. except as it may answer the purpose of amusing myself. The subject upon which I shall dwell more particularly at present has been in my head for some considerable time, and it now bursts forth in all its confusion. The opportunities that I have latterly had of attending and obtaining instruction from various lecturers in their performance of the duty attached to that office, has enabled me to observe the various habits, peculiarities, excellences, and defects of each of them as they were evident to me during the delivery. I did not wholly let this part of the things occurrent escape my notice, but when I found myself pleased, endeavoured to ascertain the particular circumstance that had affected me ; also, whilst attending Mr. Brande and Mr. Powell in their lectures, I observed how the audience were affected, and by what their pleasure and their censure were drawn forth.
1 It may, perhaps, appear singular and improper that one who is entirely unfit for such an office himself, and who does not even pretend to any of the requisites for it, should take upon him to censure and to commend others, to express satisfaction at this, to be displeased with that, according as he is led by his judgment, when he allows that his judgment is unfit for it ; but I do not see, on consideration, that the impropriety is so great. If I am unfit for it, '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 ; and it is far better to learn to use our mental powers (though it may take a whole life for the purpose) than to leave them buried in idleness a mere void.
HIS FIRST LETTERS FROM THE INSTITUTION, 67
4 1 too have inducements in the C.P.S. (City Thilo- 1813. soph i oil Society) to draw me forward in the acquisition Mr. 21. of a small portion of knowledge on this point, and these alone would be sufficient to urge me forward in
my judgment of \ , \ and j ™
I lectures J I apparatus.
* In a word, B., I intend to give you my ideas on the subject of lectures and lecturers in general. The observations and ideas I shall set down are such as entered my mind at the moment the circumstances that gave rise to them took place. I shall point out but few beauties or few faults that I have not witnessed in the presence of a numerous assembly; and it is exceedingly probable, or rather certain, that I should have noticed more of these particulars if I had seen more lecturers ; or, in other words, I do not pretend to give you an account of all the faults possible in a lecture, or directions for the composing and delivering of a perfect one.
* On going to a lecture I generally get there before it begins ; indeed, I consider it as an impropriety of no small magnitude to disturb the attentions of an audience by entering amongst them in the midst of a lecture, and, indeed, bordering on an insult to the lecturer. By arriving there before the commencement, I have avoided this error, and have had time to observe the lecture room.'
(He then dwells on the form of the lecture room.) 4 There is another circumstance to be considered with respect to a lecture room of as much importance almost as light itself, and that is ventilation. How often have I felt oppression in the highest degree when surrounded by a number of other persons, and confined in one
r 2
68 LIFE OP FARADAY.
1813. portion of air ! How have I wished the lecture finished, ^Et. 2 1 . the lights extinguished, and myself away merely to obtain a fresh supply of that element ! The want of it caused the want of attention, of pleasure, and even of comfort, and not to be regained without its previous admission. Attention to this is more particularly necessary in a lecture room intended for night delivery, as the lights burning add considerably to the oppression produced on the body.
1 Entrance and exit are things, too, worthy of con- sideration amongst the particulars of a lecture room ; but I shall say no more on them than to refer you to the mode in which this is arranged here — a mode excel- lently well adapted for the convenience of a great number of persons.
1 Having thus thrown off, in a cursory manner, such thoughts as spontaneously entered my mind on this "part of the subject, it appears proper next to consider the subject fit for the purposes of a lecture. Science is undeniably the most eminent in its fitness for this purpose. There is no part of it that may not be treated of, illustrated, and explained with profit and pleasure to the hearers in this manner. The facility, too, with which it allows of manual and experimental illustration places it foremost in this class of subjects. After it come (as I conceive) arts and manufactures, the polite arts, belles lettres, and a list which may be extended until it includes almost every thought and idea in the mind of man, politics excepted. I was going to add religion to the exception, but remembered that it is explained and laid forth in the most popular and eminent manner in this way. The fitness of subjects, however, is connected in an inseparable manner with the kind of audience
HIS FIRST LETTERS FROM TOE INSTITUTION. C9
that is to be present, since excellent lectures in them- 1818. selves would appear absurd if delivered before an jet. 21. audience that did not understand them. Anatomy would not do for the generality of audiences at the R I. (Royal Institution), neither would metaphysics engage the attention of a company of schoolboys. Let the subject fit the audience, or otherwise success may be despaired of.
* A lecturer may consider his audience as being polite or vulgar (terms I wish you to understand according to ShufHeton's new dictionary), learned or unlearned (with respect to the subject), listeners or gazers. Polite company expect to be entertained not only by the subject of the lecture, but by the manner of the lec- turer; they look for respect, for language consonant to their dignity, and ideas on a level with their own. The vulgar — that is to say in general, those who will take the trouble of thinking, and the bees of business — wish for something that they can comprehend. This may be deep and elaborate for the learned, but for those who are as yet tyros and unacquainted with the subject must be simple and plain. Lastly, listeners expect reason and sense, whilst gazers only require a succession of words.
* These considerations should all of them engage the attention of the lecturer whilst preparing for his occu- pation, each particular having an influence on his arrangements proportionate to the nature of the com- pany he expects. He should consider them connectedly, so as to keep engaged completely during the whole of the lecture the attention of his audience.
* If agreeable, this subject shall be rammed at a future time ; till when I am, as always, yours sincerely,
4 M. Faraday.'
70 LIFE OF FARADAY.
1813. The next letter to Abbott is dated June 4th.
Mr. 21.
' Dear A , Not having room in my last letter, I
must apologise in this for the extraordinary length to which it was spun out — a length which would have made it unpardonable to any one but yourself. However, I am so confident that I can judge aright of you at least, that I take it for granted you will allow me the liberty of resuming the subject dwelt upon before, and so, without further ceremony, I shall proceed.
4 The hour at which a lecture should be delivered should be considered at the same time with the nature of the audience we expect or wish for. If we would suit a particular class of persons, we must fix it at the hour most convenient for them ; if we would wish to exclude any, let the time be such that they cannot attend at it. In general we may distinguish them, according to their times, into morning and evening lectures, each being adapted for different classes of persons.
* I need not point out to the active mind of my friend the astonishing disproportion, or rather difference, in the perceptive powers of the eye and the ear, and the facility and clearness with which the first of these organs conveys ideas to the mind — ideas which, being thus gained, are held far more retentively and firmly in the memory than when introduced by the ear. 'Tis true the ear here labours under a disadvantage, which is that the lecturer may not always be qualified to state a fact with the utmost precision and clearness that language allows him and that the ear can understand, and thus the complete action of the organ, or rather of its assigned portion of the sensorium, is not called forth ; but this evidently points out to us the necessity of aiding it by
HIS FIRST LETTERS FROM THE INSTITUTION. 71
using the eye also as a medium for the attainment 1818. of knowledge, and strikingly shows the necessity of jet! 21. apparatus.
4 Apparatus therefore is an essential part of every lecture in which it can be introduced ; but to apparatus should be added, at every convenient opportunity, illustrations that may not perhaps deserve the name of apparatus and of experiments, and yet may be intro- duced with considerable force and effect in proper places. Diagrams, and tables too, are necessary, or at least add in an eminent degree to the illustration and perfection of a lecture. When an experimental lecture is to be delivered, and apparatus is to be exhibited, some kind of order should be observed in the arrange- ment of them on the lecture table. Every particular part illustrative of the lecture should be in view, no one thing should hide another from the audience, nor should anything stand in the way of or obstruct the lecturer. They should be so placed, too, as to produce a kind of uniformity in appearance. No one part should appear naked and another crowded, unless some particular reason exists and makes it necessary to be so. At the same time, the whole should be so arranged as to keep one operation from interfering with another. If the lecture table appears crowded, if the lecturer (hid by his apparatus) is invisible, if things appear crooked, or aside, or unequal, or if some are out of sight, and this without any particular reason, the lecturer is con- sidered (and with reason too) as an awkward contriver and a bungler.'
(He then dwells on diagrams and illustrations.)
72 LIFE OF FARADAY.
' June 5, six o'clock, p.m.
* I have but just got your letter, or should have answered it before. For your request — it is fulfilled ; for your invitation — I thank you, but cannot accept it ; for your orders — they shall be attended to ; for to see you — I will come on Tuesday evening ; and for want of time — I must conclude, with respects to all friends, yours sincerely,
' M. Faraday.'
Again, June 11, he writes to Abbott.
' The most prominent requisite to a lecturer, though perhaps not really the most important, is a good delivery ; for though to all true philosophers science and nature will have charms innumerable in every dress, yet I am sorry to say that the generality of mankind cannot accompany us one short hour unless the path is strewed with flowers. In order, therefore, to gain the attention of an audience (and what can be more disagreeable to a lecturer than the want of it ?), it is necessary to pay some attention to the manner of expression. The utterance should not be rapid and hurried, and con- sequently unintelligible, but slow and deliberate, con- veying ideas with ease from the lecturer, and infusing them with clearness and readiness into the minds of the audience. A lecturer should endeavour by all means to obtain a facility of utterance, and the power of cloth- ing his thoughts and ideas in language smooth and harmonious and at the same time simple and easy. His periods should be round, not too long or unequal ; they should be complete and expressive, conveying clearly the whole of the ideas intended to be conveyed. If
HI8 FIRST LETTERS FROM THE INSTITUTION. 73
they are long, or obscure, or incomplete, they give rise 1818. to a degree of labour in the minds of the hearers which jet. 21. quickly causes lassitude, indifference, and even disgust.
4 With respect to the action of the lecturer, it is requi- site that he should have some, though it does not here bear the importance that it does in other branches of oratory ; for though I know of no species of delivery (divinity excepted) that requires less motion, yet I would by no means have a lecturer glued to the table or screwed on the floor. He must by all means appear as a body distinct and separate from the things around him, and must have some motion apart from that which they possess.
* A lecturer should appear easy and collected, un- daunted and unconcerned, his thoughts about him, and his mind clear and free for the contemplation and de- scription of his subject. His action should not be hasty and violent, but slow, easy, and natural, consisting prin- cipally in changes of the posture of the body, in order to avoid the air of stiffness or sameness that would other- wise be unavoidable. His whole behaviour should evince respect for his audience, and he should in no case forget that he is in their presence. No accident that does not interfere with their convenience should dis- turb his serenity, or cause variation in his behaviour ; he should never, if possible, turn his back on them, but should give them full reason to believe that all his powers have been exerted for their pleasure and instruction.
'Some lecturers choose to express their thoughts extemporaneously immediately as they occur to the mind, whilst others previously arrange them, and draw them forth on paper. Those who are of the
74 LIFE OP FARADAY.
1813. first description are certainly more unengaged, and •JEn. 21. more at liberty to attend to other points of delivery than their pages ; but as every person on whom the duty falls is not equally competent for the prompt clothing and utterance of his matter, it becomes ne- cessary that the second method should be resorted to. This mode, too, has its advantages, inasmuch as more time is allowed for the arrangement of the subject, and more attention can be paid to the neatness of expression.
' But although I allow a lecturer to write out his matter, I do not approve of his reading it ; at least, not as he would a quotation or extract. He should deliver it in a ready and free manner, referring to his book merely as he would to copious notes, and not confining his tongue to the exact path there delineated, but digress as circumstances may demand or localities allow.
' A lecturer should exert his utmost effort to gain completely the mind and attention of his audience, and irresistibly to make them join in his ideas to the end of the subject. He should endeavour to raise their interest at the commencement of the lecture, and by a series of imperceptible gradations, unnoticed by the company, keep it alive as long as the subject demands it. No breaks or digressions foreign to the purpose should have a place in the circumstances of the evening; no opportunity should be allowed to the audience in which their minds could wander from the subject, or return to inattention and carelessness. A flame should be lighted at the commencement, and kept alive with unremitting splendour to the end. For this reason I very much disapprove of
HIS FIRST LETTERS FROM THE INSTITUTION. 75
breaks in a lecture, and where they can by any 1818. means be avoided, they should on no account find Mr. si. place. If it is unavoidably necessary, to complete the arrangement of some experiment, or for other reasons, leave some experiments in a state of progression, or state some peculiar circumstance, to employ as much as possible the minds of the audience during the un- occupied space — but, if possible, avoid it.
* Digressions and wanderings produce more or less the bad effects of a complete break or delay in a lecture, and should therefore never be allowed except in very peculiar circumstances ; they take the audience from the main subject, and you then have the labour of bringing them back again (if possible).
4 For the same reason (namely, that the audience should not grow tired), I disapprove of long lectures ; one hour is long enough for anyone, nor should they be allowed to exceed that time.
4 But I have said enough for once on this subject, and must leave it in order to have room for other things. 1 had arranged matters so as to accept your kind in- vitation for Sunday, and anticipated much pleasure from the meeting, but am disagreeably disappointed, circumstances being such as to hinder my seeing you at that time. This I much regret, but hope, how- ever, to enjoy the full measure of pleasures expected at some not far distant time.
* But farewell, dear A., for a few days, when you shall again hear from yours most sincerely,
4 M. Faraday.'
The last letter to Abbott before he went abroad is dated June 18, 1813.
76 LIFE OF FARADAY.
' Dear A , As when on some secluded branch in
forest far and wide sits perched an owl, who, full of self- conceit and self-created wisdom, explains, comments, condemns, ordains, and orders things not understood, yet full of his importance still holds forth to stocks and stones around — so sits and scribbles Mike ; so he declaims to walls, stones, tables, chairs, hats, books, pens, shoes, and all the things inert that be around him, and so he will to the end of the chapter.
' In compliance with that precept which desires us to finish one thing before we begin another, I shall at once fall to work on the lecturer, and continue those observations which I have from time to time both made and gained about them. Happy am I to say that the fault I shall now notice has seldom met my observation, yet, as I have witnessed it, and as it does exist, it is necessary to notice it.
' A lecturer falls deeply beneath the dignity of his character when he descends so low as to angle for claps, and asks for commendation. Yet have I seen a lecturer even at this point. I have heard him cause- lessly condemn his own powers. I have heard him dwell for a length of time on the extreme care and niceness that the experiment he will make requires. I have heard him hope for indulgence when no in- dulgence was wanted, and I have even heard him declare that the experiment now made cannot fail from its beauty, its correctness, and its application, to gain the approbation of all. Yet surely such an error in the character of a lecturer cannot require pointing out, even to those who resort to it ; its impropriety must be evident, and I should perhaps have done well to pass it.
HIS FIRST LETTERS FROM THE INSTITUTION. 77
* Before, however, I quite leave this part of my sub- 1818. ject, I would wish to notice a point in some manner Mr. 21. connected with it. In lectures, and more particularly experimental ones, it will at times happen that acci- dents or other incommoding circumstances take place.
On these occasions an apology is sometimes necessary, but not always. I would wish apologies to be made as seldom as possible, and generally, only when the inconvenience extends to the company. I have several times seen the attention of by far the greater part of the audience called to an error by the apology that followed it.
* An experimental lecturer should attend very care- fully to the choice he may make of experiments for the illustration of his subject. They should be im- portant, as they respect the science they are applied to, yet clear, and such as may easily and generally be understood. They should rather approach to simplicity, and explain the established principles of the subject, than be elaborate, and apply to minute phenomena only. I speak here (be it understood) of those lectures which are delivered before a mixed audience, and the nature of which will not admit of their being applied to the explanation of any but the principal parts of a BCJCPOe. If to a particular audience you dwell on a particular subject, still adhere to the same principle, though perhaps not exactly to the same rule. Let your experiments apply to the subject you elucidate, do not introduce those which are not to the point.
'Though this last part of my letter may appear superfluous, seeing that the principle is so evident to every capacity, yet I assure you, dear A., I have seen it broken through in the most violent manner — a
78 LIFE OF FARADAY.
mere alehouse trick has more than once been intro- duced in a lecture, delivered not far from Pall Mall, as an elucidation of the laws of motion.
' Neither should too much stress be laid upon what I would call small experiments, or rather illustrations. It pleases me well to observe a neat idea enter the head of a lecturer, the which he will immediately and aptly illustrate or explain by a few motions of his hand — a card, a lamp, a glass of water, or any other thing that may be by him ; but when he calls your attention In a particular way to a decisive experiment that has entered his mind, clear and important in its application to the subject, and then lets fall a card, I turn with disgust from the lecturer and his experi- ments. Tis well, too, when the lecturer has the ready wit and the presence of mind to turn any casual cir- cumstance to an illustration of his subject. Any particular circumstance that has become table-talk for the town, any local advantages or disadvantages, any trivial circumstance that may arise in company, give great force to illustrations aptly drawn from them, and please the audience highly, as they conceive they perfectly understand them.
' Apt experiments (to which I have before referred) ought to be explained by satisfactory theory, or other- wise we merely patch an old coat with new cloth, and the whole (hole) becomes worse. If a satisfactory theory can be given, it ought to be given. If we doubt a re- ceived opinion, let us not leave the doubt unnoticed, and affirm our own ideas, but state it clearly, and lay down also our objections. If the scientific world is divided in opinion, state both sides of the question, and let each one judge for himself, by noticing the most
A 8KBTCII OF HIMSELF AT THIS TIME. 79
striking and forcible circumstances on each side. Then, 1813. and then only, shall we do justice to the subject, jBt. 21. please the audience, and satisfy our honour, the honour of a philosopher. I shall here cause a slight separation in the subject by closing this epistle, as it is now jjttting late; so I shake hands until to-morrow, at which time I hope to find all well, as is at present
4 Yours sincerely,
1 M. Faraday.'
When urged by his friend, two years after this, to complete his remarks, he said, December 31, 1816, * With respect to my remarks on lectures, I perceive I am but a mere tyro in the art, and therefore you must be satisfied with what you have, or expect at some future time a recapitulation, or rather revision, of them.'
The short history of himself which he gave this year to his aunt and uncle, because ' he has nothing more to say, and is requested by bis mother to write the account,' is highly characteristic of the man.
* 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 II. 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
80 LIFE OF FARADAY.
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.
'September 13, 1813.'
In his notes he says : — ' 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.'
HIS FOREIGN JOURNAL WHILST WITH SIR H. DAVY. 81
CHAPTER III.
EXTRACTS FROM HI8 JOURNAL AND LETTERS WHILST ABROAD WITH SIR HUMPHRY DATT.
The journey of Faraday abroad with Sir H. Davy was one of the few episodes that occurred in his life. It lasted only one year and a half.
During this time he kept a journal, and wrote letters to his mother, sisters, and friends ; chiefly, however, to Abbott
The journal, of which only some extracts are here given, is remarkable for the minuteness of the descrip- tion of all he saw, and for its cautious silence regarding those he was with. It gives, however, full details regard- ing Sir H. Davy's scientific work. He says he wrote it, *not to instruct or to inform, or to convey even an imper- fect idea of what it speaks ; its sole use is to recall to my mind at some future time the things I see now, and the most effectual way to do that will be, I conceive, to write down, be they good or bad, my present impressions.'
The letters are full of the warmth of his affection, the sensitiveness of his feeling, and the earnestness of his desire for self-improvement
In one of his first letters to his mother he says, * The first and last thing in my mind is England, home, and
VOL. I. G
82
LIFE OF FAKADAY.
friends. It is the point to which my thoughts still ultimately tend, the goal to which, looking over inter- mediate things, my eyes are still directed. . . Whenever a vacant hour occurs, I employ it by thinking of those at home. Whenever present circumstances are disagree- able, I amuse myself by thinking of those at home. In short, when sick, when cold, when tired, the thoughts of those at home are a warm and refreshing balm to my heart . . . these are the first and greatest sweetness in the life of man.'
His desire for improvement is seen in another letter which he writes later to his mother : ' I am almost con- tented except with my ignorance, which becomes more visible to me every day, though I endeavour as much as possible to avoid it.'
On this subject also he writes to his friend, ' 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 know- ledge 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 see- ing 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.'
To his married sister he thus shows his affection : ' I shall never feel quite happy until I get amongst you again, I have a thousand things to say, but I do not
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know which to say first ; and if I followed my mind, I 1813. should never get to an end.' Xt. 2a.
And in his last letter to his mother from Brussels, he says, * I have a thousand times endeavoured to fancy a meeting with you and my relations and friends, and I am sure I have as often failed — the reality must be a pleasure not to be imagined nor to be described . . . My thoughts wander from one to another, my pen runs on by fits and starts ... I do not know what to say, and yet I cannot put an end to my letter. I would fain be talking to you, but I must cease. ... It is the shortest, and to me the sweetest, letter I ever wrote you.*
Faraday began his foreign journal thus : —
Wednesday, October 13tk. — 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 ; and now I leave it perhaps for many year-. and to visit spots between which and home whole realms will intervene. Tis indeed a strange venture at this time, to trust ourselves in a foreign and hostile country, where also so little regard is had to protesta- tions and honour, that the slightest suspicion would be sufficient to separate us for ever from England, and perhaps from life. But curiosity has frequently in- curred dangers as great as these, and therefore why should I wonder at it in the present instance ? If we return safe, the pleasures of recollection will be highly enhanced by the dangers encountered; and a never- failing consolation is, that whatever be the fate of our party, variety, a great source of amusement and pleasure, must occur.
o 1
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LIFE OF FARADAY.
J 813. Friday, lhth. — Beached Plymouth this afternoon. I Mr. 22. was more taken by the scenery to-day than by any- thing else I have ever seen. It came upon me unex- pectedly, and caused a kind of revolution in my ideas respecting the nature of the earth's surface. That such a revolution was necessary is, I confess, not much to my credit ; and yet I can assign to myself a very satis- factory reason, in the habit of ideas induced by an ac- quaintance with no other green surface than that within three miles of London. Devonshire, however, presented scenery very different to this ; the mountain- ous nature of the country continually put forward new forms and objects, and the landscape changed before the eye more rapidly than the organ could observe it. This day gave me some ideas of the pleasures of travel- ling, and has raised my expectations of future enjoyment to a very high point.
Monday, 1 8th. — I last night had a fine opportunity of observing the luminous appearance of the sea, and was amused by it for a long time. As the prow of the vessel met the waters, it seemed to turn up a vast number of luminous bodies about the size of peas, some, however, being larger than others. These appeared to roll onwards by the side of the vessel with the waters, and sometimes traversed a distance of many yards before they disappeared. They were luminous at or beneath the surface of the water indifferently, and the only effect produced by different depths was a diminu- tion of the light by the quantity of intervening medium. These luminous spots were very numerous — the most so, I think, about half an hour after midnight : their light was very bright and clear.
The swell of the sea was very considerable all night,
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though gradually decreasing. I remained on deck and 1813. escaped all sea-sickness. As day came on and the light .Br. 22. increased, we looked about us, but saw nothing in the scene except sky and immense waves striding one after the other at a considerable distance. These as they came to us lifted up our small vessel, and gave us, when on their summits, a very extended horizon ; but we soon sank down into the valleys between them, and had nothing in view but the wall of waters around us.
Tuesday \ 19th. — As soon as day was well introduced our vessel moved, and, passing the cartel which stands at the mouth of the harbour (of Morlaix) to defend it, moved up the long and perplexed passage. We here had our first view of France, and it was not at all cal- culated to impress a stranger with a high opinion of the country, though perhaps regret for home may influence first feelings. I wras in hopes of going on shore, but un- derstood that no one could leave the ship until the arrival of an officer to examine us. Late in the afternoon the Blighty man of office came, attended by several under- strappers and a barge full of Frenchmen, apparently beg- gars and porters. A formal examination then ensued. One of the officers came to me, and, taking my hat off, he first searched it, and then laid it on the deck ; he then felt my pockets, my breast, my sides, my clothes, and, la>tly. desired to look into my shoes ; after which I was permitted to pass. A similar ceremony was performed on all the strangers; and though I felt surprised at such a singular reception, I could hardly help laughing at the ridiculous nature of their precautions. Our English sailors looked on with pity and indignatiou, which was not diminished by the seizure of some letters written in the harbour, and given to the captain of the
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1813. cartel to be conveyed back to Plymouth, and by the post Mr. 22. to our friends in London. These letters, however, were all seized and conveyed to Morlaix, and we were not allowed to write home of our arrival in France.
The various parts of the carriage, the boxes, packages, &c, being placed on deck, word was given, and imme- diately the crew of Frenchmen poured on them, and con- veyed them in every direction, and by the most awkward and irregular means, into the barge alongside, and this with such an appearance of hurry and bustle, such an air of business and importance, and yet so ineffectually, that sometimes nine or ten men would be round a thing of a hundred pounds' weight, each most importantly employed ; and yet the thing would remain immovable until the crew were urged by their officer or pushed by the cabin boy. At last all was placed in the barge, and then leave was given to the cartel to return. And certainly it was with no pleasurable feelings I beheld myself separated from my countrymen, that I saw them returning, and felt conscious of the tyrannical and oppressive laws and manners of the people in whose hands we remained. But things being as they were, I endeavoured to content and amuse myself by looking out for variety in the manners of the people round me. Wednesday, 20th. — The officers had permitted us to take out of the seat-boxes, &c, in their presence, what was absolutely necessary for the night, and in the morn- ing we went to claim the rest. I found the carriage, &c, in the barge just as they had been left, and an officer still there. The douane was not yet open, and we had to wait patiently, or otherwise, for some time, looking on our things, but not daring to touch them. At last business commenced. The officers having arranged themselves on
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the edge of the quay, some thirty or forty inhabitants of 1813. the town ran and tumbled down the steps, and leaping JBr. 21 into the barge, seized, some one thing, some another, and conveyed them to the landing-place above. Tlus sight alone was a curious one, for they being totally destitute of all method and regularity, it seemed as if a parcel of thieves were scampering away with what was not their own. The body of the carriage was the part which most embarrassed them, for as there were no cranes or any substitute for them on the quay, it was necessary that mere hand labour should perform the important task of raising it to the place above. This was an effort of great magnitude, but they manfully surmounted it, and our fears of seeing the carriage resigned to its fate at the bottom of the stairs were fortunately unfounded.
All this being done, these gentry formed a ring, and the officers began their work. All the boxes and pack- ages, even to the tool-chest, were taken out and conveyed into the house ; and then, some getting inside and some mounting outside, they searched all the corners and crannies for what they could find, and thumped over every part of the carriage to discover hollow and secret places. Finding nothing like concealment, they entered the house, and began to operate on the trunks ; and as they were disappointed in their hopes of booty from the carriage, they seemed determined to make up for their loss here. Package after package was opened, roll after roll unfolded, each pair of stockings unwrapped, and each article of apparel shaken ; but still being disap- pointed in their hopes of a pretext for seizure, they at pit laid claim to two or three dozen of cotton stockings because they were new, and it was long before the arguments of their being necessary for a long journey,
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and of their being marked, were sufficient to induce them to render them up again. At last the business ended with everything in the possession of the rightful owners, and a gift to the officers for their polite atten- tions.
As soon as the examination was concluded, leave was given for the carriage to be put together and the goods replaced in it. The first set of men now found work again ; and I was astonished how, with their poor means, and their want of acquaintance with such affairs, they were still able to get it in order. ' Tis true they made the job appear a mighty one, but they got through it ; and, after having exclaimed levez ! levez I for an hour or two, everything was in a movable state ; and horses being tied to, we proceeded in order to the hotel.
I shall refrain from making comments upon this peculiar examination, except to remark, that if variety be one of the traveller's pleasures, we have certainly enjoyed a very high one this morning, for the whole affair was so different to anything that I had before witnessed that I cannot possibly charge it with a mono- tonous effect : the occurrence was one which will ever make this day signal in my remembrance.
Thursday, 21st. — I will endeavour to describe our hotel. This, the best in the place, has but one entrance, and it is paved in a manner similar to the street : through it pass, indiscriminately, horses, pigs, poultry, human be- ings, or whatever else has a connection with the house or the stables and pigsties behind it. On the right hand of the passage, and equally public as a thoroughfare with it, is the kitchen : here a fire of wood is generally sur- rounded by idlers, beggars or nondescripts of the town, who meet to warm themselves and chatter to the mistress ;
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and they hold their stations most tenaciously, though the 1S13. processes of cooking are in progress. I think it is impos- Mr. 2± able for an English person to eat the things that come out of this place except through ignorance or actual and oppressive hunger ; and yet perhaps appearances may be worse than the reality, for in some cases their dishes are to the taste excellent and inviting, but then they require, whilst on the table, a dismissal of all thoughts respecting the cookery or kitchen.
Friday , 22nd. — The postilion deserves a paragraph to himself. He is mostly a young, always a lively, man. His dress, with the exception of his boots and that part •which covers his head, varies infinitely, but hairy jackets appear to be frequent as outer garments, and they are often finely ornamented ; at other times the dress seems to be a kind of uniform, being at many posthouses to- gether of one colour, and turned up at the edge with another. The first pair of jack-boots that I saw came out of the kitchen at the hotel at Morlaix ; for as it is almost impossible for a man when in them to move about by his own exertions, the postilion had left them in the above-named place until all was arranged at the carriage ; but then he used his reserved strength, and showed them off in a walk from the fireside to the horses. They appeared like two very large cylinders of leather ter- minated at the end by purses for the feet ; they rose about six inches above the knee, and were cut away at the back part to admit the use of that joint. Their ex- ternal diameter was about seven inches, but the cavities within were not much too large for the legs. The -aides of the boots consisted of two or three f< >l<ls ( »f stn hilt leather sewed together, and stuflfed on the inside with wool to the thickness of three-quarters of an inch and
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1813. sometimes more, and the lower part, or foot, not being ' jet.22.' stuffed in the same way, was much smaller in proportion, though, being still too large, it was made perfect by a wisp of straw. The weight of a pair of j ack-boots varies between fourteen and twenty pounds generally. These boots are sometimes moved about by the postilions inde- pendent of the exertions of the horses, and then an enor- mous pair of stirrups are hung to the saddle to sustain them in riding. At other times they are attached to the saddle by straps, and the postilion jumps on to his horse and into them at the same time. The use of them, according to the wearers, is to save their legs from being broken should the horses stumble or the carriage be overturned ; and though a traveller must laugh at the sight of such clumsy things, there is not much amuse- ment in the idea that the people who best know their horses and drivers consider such a precaution constantly necessary.
Other appendages to the postilion are the whip and the tobacco pouch. The first is a most tremendous weapon to dogs, pigs, and little children. With a handle of about thirty inches, it has a thong of six to eight feet in length, and it is constantly in a state of violent vibratory motion over the heads of the horses, giving rise to a rapid succession of stunning sounds. The second is generally a bag, though sometimes a pocket, exclusively appro- priated, answers the purpose. It contains tobacco, a short pipe, a flint, a steel, German tinder, and some- times a few varieties. To this the postilion has constant recurrence, and whilst jogging on will light his pipe and smoke it out successively for several hours.
Sunday, 24th. —This evening I for the first time saw a glowworm. The night was very dark (about seven
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o'clock), and one of our horses had tumbled over. This accident destroyed the traces ; and whilst the postilion was renovating them, I saw the little insect by its light among the horses' feet in the middle of the road. Two small luminous spots were visible upon it, but the light was very weak. I picked the worm up, and secured it until we were again in a moving state, and then amused half an hour by observing its appearance. The lights had disappeared, but soon became visible, and then showed a varying intensity for some minutes, but soon entirely disappeared. On examining it afterwards at Rennes, I found it to be a small black worm not three- quarters of an inch in length, and having no part par- ticularly distinguished as that which had been lumi- nous. It was dead, and must have been in a very weak state when I found it.
Thursday, 2%th. — Drieux. I cannot help dashing a note of admiration to one thing found in this part of the country — the pigs ! At first I was positively doubtful of their nature, for though they have pointed noses, long ears, rope-like tails, and cloven feet, yet who would have imagined that an animal with a long thin body, back and belly arched upwards, lank sides, long slender feet, and capable of outrunning our horses for a mile or two together, could be at all allied to the fat sow of Eng- land ? When I first saw one, which was at Morlaix, it started so suddenly, and became so active in its motions on being disturbed, and so dissimilar in its actions to our swine, that I looked out for a second creature of the same kind before I ventured to decide on its being *a regular animal or an extraordinary production of nature ; but I find that they are all alike, and that what at a distance I should judge to be a greyhound
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I am . obliged, on a near approach, to acknowledge a
Friday, 29th. — Paris. I am here in the most unlucky and irritating circumstances possible. Set down in the heart of Paris — that spot so desiringly looked after, so vainly too, from a distance by numbers of my countrymen. I know nothing of the language or of a single being here ; added to which the people are ene- mies, and they are vain. My only mode will be to stalk about the town, looking and looked at like a man in the monkish catacombs. My mummies move, however, and they see with their eyes. I must exert myself to attain their language so as to join in their world.
Saturday, oOth. — I saw the Galerie Napoleon to-day, but I scarcely know what to say of it. It is both the glory and the disgrace of France. As being itself, and as containing specimens of those things which proclaim the power of man, and which point out the high degree of refinement to which he has risen, it is un- surpassed, unequalled, and must call forth the highest and most unqualified admiration ; but when memory brings to mind the manner in which the works came here, and views them only as the gains of violence and rapine, she blushes for the people that even now glory in an act that made them a nation of thieves.
The museum contains paintings, statues, pieces of sculpture and casting, of which by far the greater number have been brought from Italy — they are the works of the old and most eminent masters, and it is a collection of chefs d'ceuvre. The statues are arranged in the lower part of the Louvre, in many salons of great magnificence. There are amongst them the Apollo, the Laocoon, the Venus de' Medici, the Heracles^
HIS FOREIGN JOURNAL WHILST WITH SIR H. DAVY. 93
the Gladiator dying, and many more of the finest 1813. pieces of the ancient Greek masters. jet. 22.
Tuesday, Nov. 2nd. — The streets of Paris are paved with equality — that is to say, no difference is made in them between men and beasts, and no part of the street is appropriated to either ; add to this that the stones of which the pavement consists are very small and sharp to the foot, and I think much more need not be said in praise of it. At this season, also, besides the pain caused by this sort of pavement, an additional incon- venience arises from it ; for though in fine weather a walker may make up his mind to skip across a street half-a-dozen times in the length of it, to avoid the carriages that drive down upon him, and from which he has no other means of saving himself, yet when, in frosty weather, the sink has become choked up, and the street is overflowed by the never-ceasing fountain, he feels averse to plunge himself into a pond though to save himself from a carriage ; and when he does do so, he generally adds energy to the desperation required by an exclamation.
Tuesday, 9th. — I went to-day to La Prefecture de Police for a passport, for it is not allowed to any but an inhabitant of Paris, and whose name is registered as such, to be in the city without one. I found the place out on the bank of the river — an enormous building containing an infinity of offices ; and it was only by paying for information that I found out the one I wanted. On entering it I beheld a large chamber containing about twenty clerks with enormous books before them, and a great number of people on the outside of the tables, all of whom came on business respecting passports. Mine was a peculiar case, and
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1813. soon gained attention, for, excepting Sir H. Davy's, * ~jet\ 22.* there was not another free Englishman's passport down in the books. An American, who was there and (perceiving me at a loss for French) had spoken to me, would scarcely believe his senses when he saw them make out the paper for a free Englishman, and would willingly have been mighty inquisitive. After having numbered the passport, and described me in their books with a round chin, a brown beard, a large mouth, a great nose, &c. &c, they gave me the paper and let me go.
It was a call upon all magistrates and authorities to respect, aid, &c. ; but the article which pleased me most, as having a great appearance of liberality, was that, as a stranger who had not always opportunities, I was to be admitted, on showing the paper, to all public property — as museums, libraries — on any day, though the public are admitted to many of them but two or three times a week.
Sunday, 13/A. — I went this morning into some of the churches, but was not induced to stop long in any of them. It could hardly be expected that they would have attractions for a tasteless heretic. Some of them were very large and finely ornamented inside, and more particularly the altars. Gold shone in abundance, and the altar-pieces or pictures were by the best masters. Masses were performing in many of them, sometimes two or more in one church at different altars, though at the same time. There were many people in some of them, but numbers seemed, like me, to be gazers. A theatrical air spread through the - whole, and I found it impossible to attach a serious or important feeling to what was going on.
HIS TORElGxV JOURNAL WHILST WITH SIR H. DAVY. 95
Tuesday, 23rd. — MM. Ampere, Clement, and Des- 1813. ormes came this morning to show Sir H. Davy a new Mi. 22. substance, discovered, about two years ago, by M. Courtois, saltpetre manufacturer. The process by which it is obtained is not yet publicly known. It is said to be procured from a very common substance, and in considerable quantities.
A very permanent and remarkable property of this substance is, that when heated it rises in vapour of a deep violet colour. This experiment was shown by the French chemists, and also the precipitation of nitrate of silver by its solution in alcohol. Sir Hum- phry Davy made various experiments on it with his travelling apparatus, and from them he is inclined to consider it as a compound of chlorine and an unknown body.
It was in small scales with a shining lustre, colour deep violet, almost black ; its appearance was very like plumbago. When sublimed it condensed again, un- altered, into crystals. A very gentle heat is sufficient to volatilise a portion of it, for when the bottle con- taining it was held in the hand, the interior soon became of a violet colour. It dissolves very readily in alcohol, and forms a solution of a deep brown colour, which precipitates nitrate of silver, and a portion of the precipitate laid on paper in the sun's light was rapidly discoloured. When a portion of it was rubbed with zinc filings in contact with the atmo- sphere, a fluid combination was formed. When treated with potassium in a glass tube, they combined with inflammation. When it was heated in contact with phosphorus, a strong action took place, and an inflam- mable gas came over. On removing the retort from the
96 LIFE OF FAKADAY.
mercurial apparatus, dense fumes issued from it, which seemed to be muriatic acid ; they had the same odour, and precipitated nitrate of silver in the same way. When the iodine was placed in contact with mercury, a combination was gradually formed, which, on being heated, became first orange-coloured, then black, and at last red.
Unfortunately for me, I as yet know nothing of the language, or I should have learned much more con- cerning this singular substance ; but thus I have marked down most of its principal characters. A future day may produce something further about it ; Sir Hum- phry Davy now thinks it contains no chlorine.
Wednesday, 2Uh. — Being indoors all day, I amused myself by noticing in what the apartments we occupy differ from English rooms. The most striking difference in this cold weather is in the fires and fireplaces. Wood is the universal fuel.
Charcoal is the usual fuel of the kitchens, and almost the whole of the business done on the Seine is with that article. The river is divided between it and the washerwomen.
In the internal decoration of apartments the French apply glass and marble, two beautiful materials, in much greater abundance than the English do. In brass working, also, they have risen to great perfection, and their application of this material to the construc- tion of ornamental time-pieces is exceedingly ingenious and beautiful.
French apartments are magnificent, English apart- ments are comfortable ; French apartments are highly ornamented, English apartments are clean; French apartments are to be seen, English apartments enjoyed;
HIS FOREIGN JOURNAL WHILST WITH SIR II. DAVY. 97
and the style of each kind best suits the people of the 1813. respective countries. jEt. 22.
Saturday, 21Ui. — A short search in the booksellers' shops gave me a little idea of the state of the trade in Paris. My object was a French and English grammar ; but they were scarce, not owing to a want of books in general, but to a want of communication between the two nations. I at last found one composed for Americans, and that answered my purpose. Stereotype printing is in great vogue here, and they have many small books beautifully done. The French type is squarer and more distinct than the English.
Books are very cheap here in proportion to English books ; I should think, on an average, they are scarcely half the price, and yet large private libraries are seldom met with. Bibliomania is a disease apparently not known in France ; indeed, it is difficult to conceive how their light airy spirits could be subjected to it.
Wednesday , Dec. 1st. — On this and the preceding day Sir H. Davy made many new experiments on the sub- stance discovered by M. Courtois. This body acted violently upon many of the metals, as iron, zinc, tin, potassium, &c. ; and it also combined with potash and combustible bodies. When heated with phosphorus it rapidly united to it, giving off first an inflammable gas, and then vapours possessing strong acid properties : as the tube cooled the compound formed became solid and of a dark red colour ; when it was heated in water it dissolved, and the solution was very acid. When solution of ammonia was poured on to the new sub- stance, and left in contact with it for a short time, a black powder was formed, which, when separated, dried, and heated, detonated with great force. The compound
vol. 1. H
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1813. of the substance with iron appeared to be decomposed Jto. 22. when heated in ammoniacal gas ; it was readily soluble in alcohol, but not much so in water : both solutions pre- cipitated copiously with nitrate of silver, and a new product, not muriate of silver, was produced. This sub- stance when heated effervesced, owing probably to the separation of its water, and a fixed body remained fluid at a high temperature, but became solid when it cooled, and then in small pieces it was semitransparent. . . .
M. Clement has lately read a paper on it at the Institute, in which he says it is procured from the ashes of sea-weeds by lixiviation and treatment with sulphuric acid : he conceives it to be a new supporter of com- bustion.
The discovery of this substance, in matters so common and supposed so well known, must be a stimulus of no small force to the inquiring minds of modern chemists. It is a proof of the imperfect state of the science even in those parts considered as completely understood. It is an earnest of the plentiful reward that awaits the industrious cultivator of this the most extensive branch of experimental knowledge. It adds in an eminent degree to the beautiful facts that abound in it, and presents another wide field for the exercise of the mind. Every chemist will regard it as an addition of no small magnitude to his knowledge, and as the fore- runner of a grand advance in chemistry.
Friday, 3rd. — I went to-day to the laboratory of M. Chevreul, at the Jardin des Plantes, with Sir H. Davy, where we remained some time at work on the new substance. I observed nothing particular in this laboratory, either as different to the London laboratories or as peculiarly adapted to the performance of processes
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or experiments. It was but a small place, and perhaps ^S. only part of the establishment appropriated to chem- ^T- 22- istry.
Wednesday ', %tfi. — I went to-day with Sir H. Davy to L'Ecole Polytechnique, the national school of chemistry, to hear the leqon given to the scholars. It was de- livered by M. Gay-Lussac to about two hundred pupils. The subject was vapour, and treated of its formation, electricity, compressibility, &c. Distillation both by heat and cold was introduced. It was illus- trated by rough diagrams and experiments, and occu- pied about an hour. My knowledge of French is so little I could hardly make out the lecture, and without the experiments I should have been entirely at a loss. After the lecture was over, we went to see the voltaic battery, the expense of which was defrayed by the government. It was composed in six troughs of wood, each containing about a hundred pairs of plates of seven or eight inches square. The trough was about four feet in length. There was a contrivance at the bottom of each trough by which, when a wire was drawn out, the acid was let off. This I did not completely understand ; but the wire appeared to close a long narrow channel which communicated with the bottom of the cells.
FARADAY TO HIS MOTHER,
• Thursday, December 0, 1813. Received June 4, 1814.
4 Dear Mother, — I write at this time in h#pes of an opportunity of shortly sending a letter to you by a person who is now here, but who expects soon to part for England. It has been impossible for me to write before
h 2
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since we have been in France, but you will have heard of me from Mr. Brande, and I expect also from Mrs. Farquhar. I feel very anxious to know how you are situated in your house, and the state of your health, but see no mode at present by which you can convey the desired information except by Mr. Brande. Sir Humphry told me that when Mr. B. wrote to him he would send in the same letter an account of your health, and I expect it impatiently. It would be of no use to write a long letter, as it is most probable it would not reach you. We are at present at Paris, but leave it shortly for the south of France, and Lyons will be our next resting-place. . .
' I could say much more, but nothing of importance ; and as a short letter is more likely to reach you than a long one, I will only desire to be remembered to those before mentioned, not forgetting Mr. Eiebau, and tell them they must conceive all I wish to say.
' Dear Mother, I am, with all affection, your dutiful son,
' M. Faraday.
'Mrs. M. Faraday, 18 Weymouth Street, Portland Place.'
The journal continues thus : —
Saturday, Dec. 11th. — Sir Humphry Davy had oc- casion to-day for a voltaic pile to make experiments on the new substance now called iodine, and I obtained one from M. Chevreul. The pile consisted of circular plates about four inches in diameter ; they were united in pairs, a zinc and copper plate being soldered together by the whole of one of their surfaces. They were made dish- ing or concave, by which means a greater quantity of the solution used could be retained between them.
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Twenty-four of these double plates, with a solution of 1813. muriate of ammonia to which a little nitric acid had JEt. 22. been added, produced a good ignition with a little charcoal and platiua wire. This ignition had no effect on the violet-coloured gas, and as yet it must be con- sidered as a simple body.
Saturday, 18th. — This was an important day. The emperor has just visited the senate in full state. The weather has been very bad ; but that did not prevent me and thousands more from going to see the show. I went, about twelve o'clock, to the Tuilleries Gardens, and took my station on the terrace, as being the best place then vacant. After waiting some time, and getting wet through, the trumpet announced the procession. Many guards and many officers of the court passed us before the emperor came up, but at last he appeared in sight. He was sitting in one corner of his carriage, covered and almost hidden from sight by an enormous robe of ermine, and his face overshadowed by a tremen- dous plume of feathers that descended from a velvet hat. The distance was too great to distinguish the features well, but he seemed of a dark countenance and somewhat corpulent. His carriage was very rich, and fourteen servants stood upon it in various parts. A numerous guard surrounded him. The empress and a great number of courtiers, &c, followed in other carriages. No acclamation was heard where I stood, and no comments.
Tuesday, 21st. — I am quite out of patience with the infamous exorbitance of these Parisians ; they seem to have neither sense of honesty nor shame in their dealings. They will ask you twice the value of a thing, with as much coolness as if they were going to give it
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you ; and when you have offered them half their demand, and, on their accepting it, you reproach them with un- fair dealings, they tell you ' you can afford to pay.' It would seem that every tradesman here is a rogue, unless they have different meanings for words to what we have.
I was very much amused, for half an hour this morn- ing, in observing the operation and business of a noted shoeblack at the corner of the passage running under the theatre (Feydeau, I think). The shop has two entrances ; the interval between is well glazed, and preserved in as neat order as the windows of a coffee , house. Along the back of the shop run benches covered with cushions : they are four or five feet from the ground, and a foot board runs at a convenient distance beneath them. When a customer enters he takes his exalted seat, and generally a newspaper (two or three lying constantly in the shop), and a spruce shopman immediately makes his feet look the best part about him. The place is well lighted up ; and the price of all these enjoyments, for a soft seat, news, brilliant boots, &c, is ' what you please ! ■
Wednesday, 29th. — This morning we left Paris, after a residence in it of three months, and prepared ourselves for new objects and new scenes. The morning was fine, but very cold and frosty; but on entering the forest of Fontainebleau we did not regret the severity of the weather, for I do not think I ever saw a more beautiful scene than that presented to us on the road. A thick mist which had fallen during the night, and which had scarcely cleared away, had, by being frozen, dressed every visible object in a garment of wonderful airiness and delicacy. Every small twig and every
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blade of herbage was encrusted by a splendid coat of hoar frost, the crystals of which in most cases extended above half an inch. This circumstance, instead of causing a sameness, as might have been expected, pro- duced an endless variety of shades and forms — openings in the foreground placed far-removed objects in view which, in their airy dress and softened by distance, appeared as clouds fixed by the hands of an enchanter ; then rocks, hills, valleys, streams, and woods ; then a milestone, a cottage, or human beings, came into the moving landscape, and rendered it ever new and de- lightful. We slept this night at Nemours.
Thursday, 3G7A. — Though cold and dark, we were on our way to Moulins by five o'clock this morning ; and though somewhat more south than London, yet I do not perceive any superior character in the winter mornings here. However, as we always judge worse of a bad thing when it is present than at any other time, I may have been too cross with the cold and dark character of our early hours. The moon had set — a circumstance to be regretted, for though assisted only by the faintness of starlight, yet I am sure our road was beautiful : 'twas along the banks of the river within a few yards of the water, which indeed at times came to our horses' feet. On our left was a series of small hills and valleys lightly wooded, and varied now and then by clustering habitations. These dark hours, however, have their pleasures, and those are not slight which are furnished at such times by the memory or the imagination. I have often regretted the interruption caused by the change of horses, or the mending of broken harness. 'Tis pleasant to 6tate almost audibly to the mind the novelty of present cir-
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1814. cumstances — that the Loire is on my right hand, that mi. 22. the houses to the left contain men of another country to myself, that it is French ground that I am passing over ; and then to think of the distance between myself and those who alone feel an interest for me, and to enjoy the feeling of independence and superiority we at present possess over those sleeping around us. We seem tied to no spot, confined by no circumstances, at all hours, at all seasons, and in all places we move with freedom — our world seems extending and our existence enlarged ; we seem to fly over the globe, rather like satellites to it than parts of it, and mentally take posses- sion of every spot we go over.
Saturday, Jan. Sth. — Reached MontpeUier to-day at a very good hour, about two o'clock. The weather has been very cold and frosty all the morning, more so I think than at anytime before this winter, but the sky is beautifully clear and brilliant. We have passed many olive plantations, and are now in a country famous for fine oil. I believe we shall remain here some time, and have opportunity to notice the country. The town seems to be very pretty ; but the hotel we are in must not be compared to that at Lyons, except for good oil, and wine, and good-nature in all the persons in it. ^
Wednesday, Feb. 2nd.— Since we have been here, Sir Humphry has continued to work very closely on iodine. He has been searching for it in several of the plants that grow in the Mediterranean, but has not obtained certain evidence of its presence. If it exists in them at all it is in very minute quantities, and it will be scarcely possible to detect it.
Sunday, 6th.— The Pope passed through this place a few days ago, on his way to Italy. He has just
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been set at liberty. The good catholics have, in ex- pectation of his coming, been talking of his sufferings and troubles for many days past, and at every hour felt their curiosity and devotion rise higher. At last he came, not to stop in the town, as was supposed, but merely to pass by the outside of it. Early in the morning the road was well peopled, and before ten o'clock almost every person in the town was there but myself. They say he was received in a very pathetic manner, and with a multitude of sighs, tears, and groans. Some people accompanied him for miles from the town, and some had in the morning gone many miles to meet him.
Thursday, 17th. — Left Nice this morning, and ad- vanced towards the Alps by a road on the sides of which were gardens with oranges and lemons in great profusion. We soon entered among the mountains : they were of limestone stratified very regularly, and appearing at a distance like stars. At some distance up we came to a place where the strata for many yards consisted of small pieces of limestone an inch in size, more or less cemented together by carbonate of lime. Varieties occurred here and there, and in these places the cement had taken a stalactite form. A dropping well added to the variety of objects, and, appearing in a very picturesque situation, added much to the beauty of the scene.
Saturday, ldth. — Col de Tende. Rose this morning at daybreak, which was much advanced at half-past five o'clock, and made preparations for crossing the great mountain, or Col de Tende. At Tende the noble road, which had given such facile and ready conveyance, finished, and it was necessary to prepare for another
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sort of travelling. Expecting it would be very cold, I added to rny ordinary clothing an extra waistcoat, two pairs of stockings, and a nightcap : these, with a pair of very strong thick shoes and leathern overalls, I supposed would be sufficient to keep me warm.
About nine o'clock, horses were put to the carriage, and we proceeded towards the mountain by a road which, though not so good as the one we passed, was by no means bad, and still continued by the river of yester- day. On each side were extensive plains covered with snow to a great depth, but sufficiently hard and solid to support the men who accompanied, or rather who guided, us as they walked upon it.
There were at present but two of these persons, the chief and one of the sixty- five composing the band. They walked on before, whistling and helping ; and the scene, so strange and singular to us, never attracted their attention, unless to point out to us the site of an ava- lanche or a dangerous place.
There was something pleasant in the face and appear- ance of the chief, and I thought him a good specimen of the people here. He was a tall man, not at all thick, but his flesh seemed all muscle and strength. His dress consisted of few articles — trowsers, a loose waistcoat, an open jacket, a hairy cap, very heavy-soled shoes, and coarse gaiters, or overalls, tied round his shoes to keep out the snow. This was all his clothing, and I found his comrades just like him. His gait was very peculiar, contracted, I suppose, by walking constantly on the snow, where a firm footing is required.
The road began to change soon after leaving Tende, and at last became nothing but ice. It was now fit for beasts of burden only : grooves had been formed in it
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at equal distances to receive the feet of the horses or mules, and prevent their falling ; and though convenient to them, it was to us a great evil, for as the wheels fell successively into the ruts, it produced a motion not only disagreeable, but very dangerous to the carriage. Sir H. Davy here pointed out to me the rocks of micaceous schist, and I learned at the same time that granite is always found under this rock. The only vegetation visible, though there might be much under the snow, was of pine trees. They lifted their verdant tops above the snow, and in many places broke the monotony of a white landscape. Having passed some distance on this road, we were suddenly stopped by the wheels being entangled in the snow, which was full two-and-a-half feet high on each side of our way ; and it was a work of no small labour to disengage them again. Having at last got free, we again pursued our route. The day was fine and clear, and the sun darted his burning rays with much force upon us, so as even to make us throw off our great coats ; and though here encompassed by fields of snow and ice, they did not, apparently, produce any cooling effects, but seemed merely to increase the splendour of a brilliant day. Rocks here granite.
We were now joined by four or five of the gang, who had advanced to meet us and to give aid, if necessary, on the road ; and in about half an hour afterwards we came to a halt, and the end of the carriage road. Here on an open space the rest of the men who were to conduct and convey us and the baggage over the moun- tain were collected, and the scene was a very pretty subject for the pencil. On one side lay three or four t'-iihieaux, or sledges, and further on two chaises-a-
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1814. porteur, or chairs mounted on sledges. Many men were '^22. engaged in unloading and reloading mules that had come over the mountains ; and at some distance I saw a person coming down who had crossed from the other side, and who had two men to sustain him. This made me suppose that the passage was a very bad one, and, as I intended to walk to preserve some little warmth, raised my expectations in no small degree.
The horses being taken off, all hands worked to dis- mount the carriage and charge the traineaux, and after some time this was done. The pieces of the carriage Avere placed on two sledges, and the rest, as the wheels, boxes, &c, loaded five mules. In this place the baro- meter stood at 27 inches, and the thermometer, in the shade of my body, was at 46° F. ; but the instrument had been in the carriage all the morning, and was heated by the intense power of the sun in the fore part of the day. \_^
The traineaux with the body of the carriage had started about twelve o'clock. After they had been loaded, ropes were fixed to them at different parts, and they were consigned each traineau to about twenty men, who were by main strength to haul it over the mountain. They set off with a run and loud huzzas ; but the mules were not ready until one o'clock, and as a mule driver could be better spared, if wanted, than a man from the sledges, I kept in their company. At one o'clock we began to ascend the mountain, and I commenced walking with a barometer in my hand, the scale of which ran from 24 to 18 inches. The path quickly changed its appearance, and soon became not more than eighteen or twenty-four inches wide. Be- ing formed by the constant tread of mules, it consisted
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merely of a series of alternate holes in the snow, each *814- , of which was six or eight inches deep, and ten or -**• 'lL twelve across : in one part of our route the path had been formed on the snow on so steep an ascent that the surface exposed in a perpendicular direction was above four times as broad as the width of the path. Marks of feet were perceived crossing the mule path here and there, but leading directly up to the top of the mountain. These were the steps of the persons who had taken charge of the chaises-a-porteur ; and the ascent must have been a very singular one to the person carried, who would often be placed in a position nearly vertical from the steepness of the ascent. In other places the marks of the carriage trdineaux were visible. They had passed over plains of snow undirected by any pre- vious steps, or aught else except the devious mule path and the top of the mountain. At a distance, and nearly at the top of the mountain, the chaises-a-porteur were just visible, and a bird soaring below it the men pointed out to me as an eagle.
After some climbing and scrambling, the exertion of which was sufficient to keep me very comfortably warm, I reached a ruined, desolate house, half way up the mountain. Here we found the traineaux ; the men, having rested themselves after this long and laborious stage, were now waiting for their leader and the dram bottle. From hence the view was very extensive and very singular. The mules, which I had left at a little distance behind me, appeared winding up the staircase, which itself, towards the bottom, seemed to diminish to a mere line, and all was enclosed in an enormous basin, and shutout from everything but the skies. The sound of the men's voices and the mule bells was angularly clear and distinct.
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After a short rest, all resumed their labour ; and at forty-three minutes after three o'clock I gained the sum- mit of the mountain, having been three hours ascending. Here, at a height of more than 6,000 feet above the level of the sea, the thermometer was at 11° F., and the barometer at 253 inches. The observation of the baro- meter was made by Sir H. Davy, for though the mercury oscillated in the instrument I carried, it did not fall within the scale. The summit of the mountain is very pointed, and the descent consequently begins immediately on the other side ; but I stopped a few minutes to look around me. The view from this elevation was very peculiar, and if immensity bestows grandeur was very grand. The sea in the distance stretching out appa- rently to infinity, the enormous snow-clad mountains, the clouds below the level of the eye, and the immense white valley before us, were objects which struck the eye more by their singularity than their beauty, and would, after two or three repetitions, raise feelings of regret rather than of pleasure. The wind was very strong and chilling, and during the short time I re- mained (not a quarter of an hour) we were enveloped in a cloud, which, however, soon passed off, and left all clear before us.
To descend was a task which, though not so tedious, was more dangerous than to ascend. The snow was in much greater quantity on this side the mountain than on the other, and in many places where it had drifted assumed a beautifully delicate appearance. In number- less spots it was, according to the men, more than twenty feet deep, and in descending it often received me more than half-way into it. In some parts caves or hollows occur, having only a small hole in the top
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of the apparently solid snow ; and those who leave the mule path, and descend directly down the mountain, must be particularly careful of such places, lest they fall into them and be lost. In descending, one of the mules missed the steps, and fell rolling over and over several yards down the side of the mountain ; fortunately it was not hurt, and by cutting a temporary path in the snow, and supporting its burden on each side, it was quickly brought into the right road.
After I had been descending for some time down the mountain, the men with the traineaux made their appearance at the top, having finished by far the most arduous part of their undertaking. They stopped only to change the arrangement of the cords, and were almost immediately in motion. Their progress now was ex- tremely quick, and I thought dangerous, for men and traineaux actually slid in a direct line towards the bottom of the mountain, over these extensive and untried plains of snow.
About half-past four we passed a little village con- sisting of seven or eight huts nearly buried in the snow ; they were uninhabited, and are principally intended as a refuge for the men if accidents or other circum- stances should occur in the mountains during the night. At about a quarter past five evening began to come on, and the effect produced by it on the landscape was very singular, for the clouds and the mountains were so blended together that it was im- possible to distinguish the earth from the atmosphere. The traineaux now rapidly approached us with sur- prising velocity ; and as it began to grow dark, I joined them, there being the greatest number of men, had I wanted aid, and their hard work being finished.
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Just as the starlight came on, the sounds of the evening bell of a distant village were faintly heard. They came from the place we were going to. Lanterns were lighted, and one was carried before each traineau ; and guided by them and a river which owed its birth to the mountain, and was here of considerable size, we got to Leman about seven o'clock in the evening, and there put up for the night ; supper and rest being both welcome.
Tuesday, 22nd. — To-day we remained in Turin. It happened to be the last of the Carnival, so I walked out in the afternoon to see what was doing in public. Towards three o'clock the shops were shut up very rapidly, and the masters betook themselves to walking, gazing, and the amusements now going on. Such as were determined to be cheerful in spite of appearances joined the number who were waltzing to the music of itinerant musicians ; and certainly these did not seem the least cheerful and happy part of the population of Turin (I may perhaps add, also, were not the least numerous). I strolled to one place just on the skirts of the town, and found it crowded by those who thus easily ob- tained their pleasures. It was a large clear piece of ground on the bank of a branch of the Po, and re- sounded from end to end and side to side with the harmony of a number of musical professors. The little groups into which they had formed themselves were surrounded each one by its circle of ever-moving and never-tired dancers, and the spaces between these groups were filled up by a heterogeneous mixture of singers, leapers, boxers, chestnut merchants, apple- stalls, beggars, trees, and lookers-on. I fell in with one of the most worthy sets — at least, they claimed the
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pre-eminency, and it was allowed them by the other 1814. mobs. The nucleus was an enormous stone, on which jet. 22. stood tottering five musicians, and twenty-one pairs were waltzing round them.
Returning into the town, I found that those of Turin who were superior to the vulgar amusements I have just described had resorted to the employment which custom has ascertained to be more refined and suited to their ordinary habits and occupations. That such a suitableness exists I verily believe, but I think I per- ceived much more cheerfulness, and means much better suited to produce it, in the crowds I had left than in those I came to see ; but pride will supply many wants, and food, clothing, amusement, and comfort are very often given up for its peculiar gratification.
I found myself in a wide and spacious street of con- siderable length, terminating at one end in a large place having a church in its centre. All the entrances into this street were guarded by soldiers, and no person on horseback or in a carriage could gain admission into it except at the top. A long string of carriages, curricles, saddle-horses, &c, filled it, and they continued to move on progressively up and down the street and round the church for several hours. It was presumed that these vehicles carried the principal persons of the town, but nobody pretended to say that the owners were actually in them. One of very goodly aspect and fine appearance was pointed out to me when coming up ; the horses were very handsome, and the coachman and footman as spruce as could be — and so were the two maids in the inside. The next was not so dashing, but it was empty ; and the third was so shabby that I did not look to see what was inside. There were, however,
vol. 1. 1
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an immense number of persons who stood on each side of the street, looking and gazing with great apparent satisfaction, and who, if they had been conscious of the comparison I was then making between the scene before me and the one I had just left, would have looked down upon me with contempt and derision, no doubt, equal at least to that which at the same moment occupied my mind. Silly, however, as the whole affair was, it had nearly led to circumstances of more importance. A gentleman in his curricle, attended by his servant, had come down one of the side streets, and wished to enter the corso unlawfully, but was stopped by the soldier guarding the entrance. The gentleman, irritated by the repulse, endeavoured to force his way by rough driving. The soldier set his bayonet, and stood his ground. The horse was slightly wounded and near being killed, and from the pain became restive and had nearly killed his master, who was in the end obliged to turn back with his wounded horse, amidst the derision and laughter of the surrounding mob.
Saturday, 26^A. — Genoa. In the evening I went to the opera ; the performance was for the benefit of a principal actress, and, in consequence, an addition was made to the common course of entertainments. At a moment when the actress had completed the performance of a difficult piece of singing, and had begun to receive abundance of applause, a shower of printed papers descended from the top of the theatre amongst the audience — some of them were copies of the piece just sung, and others were verses in praise of the actress. Like the rest I strove to obtain one, and succeeded. After the shower of papers, several pigeons were thrown, one by one, from the top of the theatre into the pit, and some of them suffered
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cruel deaths. Before the evening concluded, a repeti- 1814. tion of these entertainments took place, accompanied by Mr. 22. a shower of gold (paper), with all of which the audience appeared highly delighted. The theatre was small and pretty ; the performance to me very tedious.
Friday, Feb. ±th. — To-day went with Sir H. Davy to the house of a chemist to make experiments on torpedoes. There were three small ones, being about five inches long and four broad. They were very weak and feeble, for, when the water in which they were was warmed, they gave but very weak shocks, so weak that I could not feel them, but Sir H. Davy did. The great object was to ascertain whether water could be decomposed by the electrical power possessed by these animals. For this purpose wires were cemented into tubes, and the surface of the ends only exposed, as in Dr. Wollaston's method, and the two extreme ends, connected with plates of tin, were placed in contact with the two organs of the fish. It was then irritated, and often contracted, apparently giving the shock, but no effect on the water was per- ceived. However, the smallness and weakness of the fish and the coldness of the season prevented any negative conclusion from being formed ; and it was resolved to complete the experiments in more advan- tageous circumstances another time.
Saturday, hth. — The weather as yet against our voy- age, and in the afternoon a storm of thunder and light- ning, and rain with water-spouts. A flash of lightning illuminated the room in which I was reading, and I then went out on the terrace to observe the weather. Looking towards the sea, I saw three water-spouts, all depending from the same stratum of clouds. I ran to the sea-shore on the outside of the harbour, hoping they would
x 2
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approach nearer, but that did not happen. A large and heavy stratum of dark clouds was advancing apparently across the field of view, in a westerly direction : from this stratum hung three water- spouts — one considerably to the west of me, another nearly before me, and the third eastward ; they were apparently at nearly equal distances from each other. The one to the west was rapidly dis- solving, and in the same direction a very heavy shower of rain was falling, but whether in the same place, or nearer or more distant, I could not tell. Eain fell vio- lently all the time at Genoa. The one before me was more perfect and distinct in its appearance. It consisted of an extended portion of cloud, very long and narrow, which projected, from the mass above, downward, in a slightly curved direction, towards the sea. This part of the cloud was well defined, having sharp edges, and at the lower part tapering to a point. It varied its direc- tion considerably during the time that I observed it — sometimes becoming more inclined to the horizon, and sometimes less ; sometimes more curved, and at other times more direct. Beneath the projecting cloud, and in a direction opposite to the point, the sea appeared violently agitated. At the distance it was from me I could merely perceive a vast body of vapour rising in clouds from the water, and ascending to some height, but disappearing, as steam would do, long before it reached the point of the cloud. The elongated part apparently extended from the stratum about f ths or {th of the distance between it and the water ; but no distinct and visible connection, except in effect, could be per- ceived between the vapour of the sea and the extended cloud. Appearances were exactly the same with the third water-spout.^ The first disappeared very quickly ;
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the second continued, after I saw it, about ten or twelve 1814. minutes, and the third fifteen or twenty minutes. They jet". 22. continued their progressive motion with the cloud during the whole time ; and the third, before it disappeared, had advanced considerably — I should think two or three miles. The destruction and dissolution of the water- spout seemed to proceed very rapidly when it had once commenced, and three or four minutes after the appar- ent commencement of decay it had entirely disappeared