قراءة كتاب Michael Faraday Man of Science
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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."
Again, to the same friend, he writes: "What? affirm 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, etc., etc., 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."
A little later he writes, acknowledging a letter from his friend, a letter which found him paper-hanging—"but what a change of thought it occasioned; what a concussion, confusion, conglomeration; what a revolution 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."
This letter, after referring to his friend's electrical experiments, he finishes somewhat sadly, "You know I shall shortly enter on the life of a journeyman, and then I suppose time will be more scarce than it is even now." Little did he dream how great a change in his prospects one short half year would make.
CHAPTER II.
The Turning Point.
There is a story told of Sir Humphry Davy, that, on being asked on a certain occasion to enumerate what he considered as his greatest discoveries, he named first one thing and then another,—now his wonderful safety-lamp, then some electrical discovery, finishing up with "but the greatest of all my discoveries was the discovery of Michael Faraday."
In the autumn of 1812, as we have seen, Faraday was a bookbinder, whose apprenticeship was just at an end, and who was contemplating, as the only thing possible, the taking up of life as a journeyman at the craft at which for seven years he had been working; indeed, a journeyman bookbinder he became, for in October of that year he engaged himself to a Mr. De la Roche, who, though a quick-tempered, passionate man, seems to have really cared for Faraday, so much so, indeed, that he said to him, "I have no child, and if you will stay with me you shall have all I have when I am gone." But Michael was not thus to be tempted from the path which he desired to tread, as he wrote afterwards to Davy's biographer, "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."
Shortly after Sir Humphry received Faraday's application, speaking to a friend—the honorary inspector of the models and apparatus—he said, "Pepys, what am I to do? Here is a letter from a young man named Faraday; he has been attending my lectures, and wants me to give him employment at the Royal Institution. What can I do?"
"Do?" was Pepys' reply, "do? put him to wash bottles; if he is good for anything, he will do it directly; if he refuses, he is good for nothing."
"No, no," said Davy, "we must try him with something better than that."
Notwithstanding the fact that his similar application of some months before to Sir Joseph Banks had met with no answer, Faraday, in his desire to leave trade for science, had thus addressed another of the leading men of the day. Davy's reply was "immediate, kind, and favourable." It was this—
"December 12th, 1812.
"To Mr. Faraday,
"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 service to you; I wish it may be in my power.
"I am, Sir, your obedient humble servant,
"H. Davy."
The young bookbinder's delight on receiving the great and kindly-natured man's note may easily be imagined, as also may his anxiety for Davy's return. Five weeks, however, are soon passed, and Michael duly met Sir Humphry "by the window which is nearest to the corridor, in the ante-room to the theatre" at the Royal Institution. Davy was much impressed by the sincerity and modesty of the applicant, but yet advised him to continue at his bookbinding, going so far, indeed, as to say that he would get the Royal Institution binding for him, and would recommend him to his friends.[4] With this, for the present, Faraday had to be content. He returned to his binding, delighted that he had met and conversed with the greatest chemist of his time, but still anxious for an opportunity to leave that trade to which, as he had said, he was so averse, and to become wholly the servant of that science to which he was so attached.
The change in his vocation was to come far more rapidly than he could have anticipated. He was still
