CHAPTER X.

ABOUT THE ROYAL INSTITUTION.

"The heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight, But they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the night.

Standing on what too long we bore, With shoulders bent and downcast eyes, We may discern--unseen before-- A path to higher destinies.

Nor deem the irrevocable past As wholly wasted, wholly vain, If, rising on its wrecks, at last To something nobler we attain." LONGFELLOW.

The Royal Institution, which for so many years was "home" to Michael Faraday, must ever remain intimately associated with his name. It is not a hundred years since it was founded, yet its history is the history of Sir Humphry Davy, Michael Faraday, and John Tyndall--or perhaps it would be more correct to say that its history is in a large measure a history of experimental research during the century. Before regarding the Institution as it is especially connected with the life-story of Michael Faraday, it may be well to just glance at its origin.

Early in the year 1799 a party of noblemen and gentlemen met at the house of Sir Joseph Banks for the purpose of forming themselves, at the suggestion of Count Rumford, into a "Society for bettering the condition of the poor." Count Rumford and his friends were most anxious for the success of their undertaking; and having once made a start did not remain idle, but in January, 1800, succeeded in having their Society incorporated by Royal Charter. The Society started perhaps on a somewhat narrower basis than that on which it now stands; its original object was that it should be "an institution for diffusing the knowledge, and facilitating the general introduction of useful mechanical inventions and improvements; and for teaching by courses of philosophical lectures and experiments, the application of science to the common purposes of life."

In a guide to London published in the early part of the present century, No. 21, Albemarle Street is thus referred to: "Here is also the Society's house for the encouragement of improvements in arts and manufactures, or the Royal Institution. The front of this house is barricaded by double windows, to prevent the entrance of cold in winter and heat in summer. Here is a room for experimental dinners, and a kitchen fitted up on the late Count Rumford's plan. Adjoining this is a large workshop, in which a number of coppersmiths, braziers, etc., are employed, and over this a large room for the reception of such models of machinery as may be presented to the Institution." It has been said that chemistry dates one of its chief epochs from the foundation of the Royal Institution laboratory.

The large building in Albemarle Street cannot be mistaken, for there are along the front of it fourteen great fluted Corinthian columns which give a striking appearance to the premises. These columns were built on to the face of the building in 1838, at a cost of five hundred pounds, by Mr. Lewis Vulliamy.

That the Royal Institution is, indeed, well worth visiting it must be quite unnecessary to say. Even was there not much to be seen which is of itself interesting, the place would have an attraction as being the place where so much has been done for the advancement of science by Faraday, his predecessors, Davy, Rumford, and Brande, and by Tyndall, and other successors.

On entering the building we find ourselves in a lofty hall; in front of us, at the head of a short flight of stone steps, is a large portrait of Sir Humphry Davy, while to the right we see Foley's fine and striking statue of Faraday, which was placed there as being the most fitting memorial of the great man's connection with the Institution. On going up the flight of steps to the right, we find ourselves in the well-appointed library, where we are shown under a glass case a beautiful little statuette of Faraday, and also a large photograph portrait of the philosopher. We next visit the lecture-theatre, our eyes being immediately drawn to the "seat over the clock," where Michael Faraday as a boy first sat, and listened and marvelled at the wonders of chemistry unfolded before him by the great Humphry Davy. This theatre it may be noted is one of the best for its acoustic properties in London. Well may we pause here--thinking of the great men who have lectured here, and of the great men who have come here to listen. It may be mentioned that the lectures are not strictly confined to scientific subjects, for it was here, in 1812, that Thomas Campbell gave his course of lectures on poetry, and that another poet--Thomas Moore--was also invited to lecture.

From the lecture-theatre we are taken downstairs to see the room where all the numerous instruments and materials are kept. Here we are shown the primitive electrical machine, which Faraday early constructed for himself, and many of the things which he used in his work; here, too, we have pointed out to us a large glass-case running along one side of the room, and divided into sections, each section containing the tools and appliances used by one or other of the great men of the Institution, Davy and Brande and Faraday himself. In several of the smaller rooms through which we are permitted to pass, we notice among the many portraits several of the subjects of this little work. And among other interesting things especially pointed out to us there is a locked glass-case "presented to the Royal Institution by Michael and Sarah Faraday" (it was characteristic of Faraday thus to put his wife in as one of the donors). This case contains several books which Michael had himself bound in those days when, disliking trade, he was seeking to enter the service of science. There are, besides, several books of Davy's and several manuscripts of his also, which his assistant had carefully kept.

And not only is the building worthy a visit on account of the many interesting relics it contains of some of our greatest scientists, and on account of the memoirs of its many great men, but even to the unscientific there is much that is attractive in the Friday Evening Lectures, which since that year 1826, when Faraday may be said to have inaugurated them, up to now, have been regularly carried on. No trouble is spared by the lecturers to make their matter understood, and innumerable experiments are presented on these occasions. The experiments, too, are such as often require a great expenditure of time and trouble in their preparation. As an instance of this I may mention an experiment which was made on the occasion of my latest attendance at a "Friday evening." The lecturer was Professor Harold Dixon; the subject of which he was treating was "The Rate of Explosion of Gases." To show the rapidity with which an explosion of a certain gas travelled, the lecturer had fitted up a leaden piping all round the theatre; the ends of the piping rested upon either end of the table at which Professor Dixon was lecturing. The piping was filled with gas, and the Professor applied a light at one end; a sharp explosion took place as the gas was fired, and was followed _almost instantaneously_ by an explosion at the other end of the pipe--the explosion having in that very short time travelled through a length of two hundred and twenty feet of piping! I quote this instance to show that no trouble is spared in preparing an illustrative experiment, although such experiment may be demonstrated in a minute or less.

It may be appropriate, while considering the long connection of Faraday with the scene of his many experimental triumphs, to refer more particularly to that unique meeting which took place last summer (June 8th, 1891) in celebration of the hundredth anniversary of the birth of Faraday, and to which slight reference is made in the last chapter. The meeting, appropriately enough, took the form of a gathering in the theatre of the Royal Institution of many of the most able and distinguished chemists of the day; Lord Rayleigh delivering an address on the developments of Faraday's discoveries. The chair was taken by His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, who referred in his opening remarks to the time when he had sat in that theatre and listened to Faraday himself. The letter from H.R.H., which is quoted on p. 131, was read, as was also the following letter which the Prince wrote to Mrs. Faraday on the occasion of her husband's death.

"Wiesbaden, September 10, 1867.

"Dear Mrs. Faraday,--Although I have not the pleasure of knowing you, I cannot resist sending you a few lines to tell you how deeply grieved and distressed I am to hear of the death of your husband, Professor Faraday. Having had the great pleasure of knowing him for some years, and having heard his interesting lectures when quite a boy, I can fully appreciate how great the loss must be, not only to you, but to the whole country at large, where his name was deeply venerated by all classes. His name will not only be remembered as a great and distinguished scientific man, but also as a good man, whose excellent and amiable qualities were so universally known. Pardon my trespassing so soon on your great grief, and believe me, dear Mrs. Faraday, yours very sincerely,

"ALBERT EDWARD."

A very interesting yet pathetic letter was read from Dr. Tyndall, which, coming as it did from a man who had so well known and so thoroughly appreciated Faraday, is of great interest to us. "As Faraday recedes from me in time," wrote Tyndall, "he becomes to me more and more beautiful. Anything, therefore, calculated to do honour to his memory must command my entire sympathy. But the utmost liberty I can now allow myself is to be shifted from my bed to a couch, and wheeled to a position near the window, from which I can see the bloom of the gorse and the brown of the heather. Thus, considerations affecting the body only present an insuperable barrier to my going to London on Wednesday."

Not very far from Albemarle Street, is Blandford Street, where it will be remembered Michael Faraday began the battle of life as a newsboy. Mr. Riebau's shop (No. 2) is yet standing, and is still a stationer's and bookseller's. Over the shop front is now to be observed a plaque, on which are the simple words, "Michael Faraday, Man of Science, apprentice here, 1791-1867." Professor Tyndall tells us of a pleasing story of a visit which he paid with the ex-bookbinder to this scene of his early labours. "Mr. Faraday and myself quitted the Institution one evening together, to pay a visit in Baker Street. He took my arm at the door, and pressing it to his side in his warm genial way, said, 'Come, Tyndall, I will now show you something that will interest you.' We reached Blandford Street; and after a little looking about, he paused before a stationer's shop, and then went in. On entering the shop, his usual animation seemed doubled; he looked rapidly at everything it contained. To the left on entering was a door, through which he looked down into a little room, with a window in front facing Blandford Street. Drawing me toward him, he said eagerly, 'Look there, Tyndall, that was my working-place. I bound books in that little nook.' A respectable-looking woman stood behind the counter; his conversation with me was too low to be heard by her, and he now turned to the counter to buy some cards as an excuse for our being there. He asked the woman her name--her predecessor's name--his predecessor's name. 'That won't do,' he said, with good-humoured impatience; 'who was his predecessor?' 'Mr. Riebau,' she replied, and immediately added, as if suddenly recollecting herself, 'He, sir, was the master of Sir Charles Faraday!' 'Nonsense!' he responded, 'there is no such person!' Great was her delight when I told her the name of her visitor; but she assured me that as soon as she saw him running about the shop, she felt--though she did not know why--that it must be _Sir Charles Faraday_!"

Turning to our right on coming out of No. 2, Blandford Street, we shall notice on the opposite side of the way a small turning down under an archway. That turning is the beginning of Jacob's Well Mews, where the Faraday family lived, and of which an illustration has been given on an earlier page of this book. The place is interesting and worthy of a visit, as showing us that however poor and unpromising may be the surroundings of a man's childhood, he may yet win for himself an enduring name, as has Michael Faraday, not only in the annals of his own country, but in those of knowledge--whose annals are concerned not with one, but with all countries.

A most interesting and pleasant trip, too, may be taken to Hampton Court Green, where a visit can be paid to the house, the use of which Her Majesty the Queen so kindly gave to the Professor, and where he passed the greater part of the last ten years of his life. Of the very many visitors to the famous palace and gardens of Hampton Court, there are, I fear, not a very large proportion who notice the charming little house facing the Green, and not far from the entrance to the Palace where the Professor lived. "Faraday House," however, appears much the same as it did when he whose name it now bears was living there. With its front all overgrown with ivy and Virginian creeper, with its creeper-bowered archway from the gate to the front door, with its trees and shrubs all along the front, and with its view across the Green to the trees in the Palace grounds beyond, the old-fashioned house has a delightful aspect, and seems indeed an ideal spot to which a man of Faraday's simple, unpretentious, yet nature-loving character, could retire after a long life of arduous and useful work.

The following "in memoriam" poem, which appeared in the pages of _Punch_ shortly after Faraday's death, so beautifully sums up much of the man's life and character, that it may be fittingly quoted as a conclusion to this short account of the life of the illustrious philosopher, a life which must impress all who have studied it as one of the purest and most unselfish of which we have any record.

"Statesmen and soldiers, authors, artists,--still The topmost leaves fall off our English oak: Some in green summer's prime, some in the chill Of autumn-tide, some by late winter's stroke.

Another leaf has dropped on that sere heap-- One that hung highest; earliest to invite The golden kiss of morn, and last to keep The fire of eve--but still turned to the light.

No soldier's, statesman's, poet's, painter's name Was this, through which is drawn death's last black line; But one of rarer, if not loftier fame-- A priest of Truth, who lived within her shrine.

A priest of Truth: his office to expound Earth's mysteries to all who willed to hear-- Who in the book of science sought and found, With love, that knew all reverence, but no fear.

A priest who prayed as well as ministered: Who grasped the faith he preached, and held it fast: Knowing the light he followed never stirred, Howe'er might drive the clouds through which it past.

And if Truth's priest, servant of Science too, Whose work was wrought for love and not for gain: Not one of those who serve but to ensue Their private profit: lordship to attain

Over their lord, and bind him in green withes, For grinding at the mill 'neath rod and cord; Of the large grist that they may take their tithes-- So some serve Science that call Science lord.

One rule his life was fashioned to fulfil: That he who tends Truth's shrine, and does the hest Of Science, with a humble, faithful will, The God of Truth and Knowledge serveth best.

And from his humbleness what heights he won! By slow march of induction, pace on pace, Scaling the peaks that seem to strike the sun, Whence few can look, unblinded, in his face.

Until he reached the stand which they that win A bird's-eye glance o'er Nature's realm may throw; Whence the mind's ken by larger sweeps takes in What seems confusion, looked at from below.

Till out of seeming chaos order grows, In ever-widening orbs of law restrained, And the Creation's mighty music flows In perfect harmony, serene, sustained;

And from varieties of force and power, A larger unity and larger still, Broadens to view, till in some breathless hour All force is known, grasped in a central Will,

Thunder and light revealed as one same strength-- Modes of the force that works at Nature's heart-- And through the Universe's veinèd length Bids, wave on wave, mysterious pulses dart.

That cosmic heart-beat it was his to list, To trace those pulses in their ebb and flow Towards the fountain-head, where they subsist In form as yet not given e'en _him_ to know.

Yet, living face to face with these great laws, Great truths, great myst'ries, all who saw him near Knew him for childlike, simple, free from flaws Of temper, full of love that casts out fear:

Untired in charity, of cheer serene; Not caring world's wealth or good word to earn; Childhood's or manhood's ear content to win; And still as glad to teach as meek to learn.

Such lives are precious: not so much for all Of wider insight won where they have striven, As for the still small voice with which they call Along the beamy way from earth to heaven."

THE END.

LONDON: KNIGHT, PRINTER, MIDDLE STREET, ALDERSGATE, E.C.

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Transcriber's note:

Footnotes have been moved to the end of each chapter and renumbered consecutively through the document.

Illustrations have been moved to paragraph breaks near where they are discussed.

[oe] changed to oe: p. 97 (Phoebus), p. 136 (Cyclopoedia in 2 places)

Punctuation has been made consistent.

Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in the original publication.

Changes have been made as follows:

Page 135: "whe" changed to "who" (anyone who claimed his attention)

Page 157: "precedessor" changed to to "predecessor" (predecessor?' 'Mr. Riebau,)

Page 158: "virginian" changed to "Virginian" (with ivy and Virginian creeper)