Michael Faraday and the Royal Institution: The Genius of Man and Place
by John Thomas, Adam Hilger, pp 234, £12.50 pbk
Modern scientists from so many different disciplines regard Michael
Faraday as their hero. To the physicist, he is the man whose extraordinary
talents as experimenter and philosopher led to the concept of the electromagnetic
field. To the chemist, he is the man who discovered new chemical substances
(including benzene) and the laws of electrolysis. To the electrical engineer,
he is the man who invented the electric motor and discovered the principle
of electromagnetic induction.
It is no exaggeration to say that, by his death in 1867, Faraday had
irreversibly changed the course and shape of society. These achievements
alone would warrant the recognition being accorded Faraday now, 200 years
after his birth on 22 September 1791. But his achievements were not confined
to the laboratory bench or learned journal. The story of his rise from extremely
humble beginnings to a pre-eminent place in science’s hall of fame is no
less inspiring now than in the early 19th century.
A self-educated man, Faraday became one of the greatest popularisers
of the science of his time. Through the Christmas Lectures and Evening Discourses
that he established at the Royal Institution, he succeeded in demystifying
science for the benefit of a huge lay audience. Every child (and every adult)
who has been entertained or even thrilled by the science presented in the
Christmas Lectures owes a debt to Michael Faraday.
The task of producing a new appreciation of Faraday has rightly fallen
to the present director of the Royal Institution and its Davy Faraday Laboratory,
I can only guess that Thomas must have begun his task with some sense
of trepidation. Faraday left behind a wealth of notebooks, diaries and photographs,
and much of his original scientific apparatus is preserved at the Royal
Institution and the Science Museum. Consequently, more has been written
about Faraday than almost any other scientist. To add anything new to this
already vast literature is difficult.
Instead, Thomas has opted to present us with a brief but nonetheless
comprehensive sketch. He tells us a little about the man, and a little more
about his scientific development, achievements and work at the Royal Institution.
The result is a short book which is readable, accessible and admirably captures
the spirit of celebration.
You will not find in this book revealing insights into 19th-century
science or scientists. Neither will you find a detailed analysis of Faraday’s
personality or the influence of his religious beliefs (he was a devout member
of the Sandemanian Church and accepted the literal truth of the Bible).
But you will find many entertaining observations, anecdotes and illustrations,
together with a wide selection of Faraday’s original writings.
Among these anecdotes is an old favourite, spoiled only slightly by
the fact that it is probably apocryphal. When asked by Prime Minister Robert
Peel or Chancellor William Gladstone to comment on the usefulness of a new
scientific discovery, Faraday is purported to have replied: ‘Why sir, there
is the probability that you will soon be able to tax it.’ Quite.
Thomas has struck his target quite accurately. There is enough here
to interest the nonspecialist while professional scientists with a passing
acquaintance with Faraday will discover several things that they had not
Thomas writes that his five years at the Royal Institution, living in
Faraday’s home and working in his laboratory, have imbued him with ‘a passionate
admiration for all that he stood for and achieved’. It is difficult for
the reader not to be caught up by Thomas’s enthusiasm both for Faraday the
man and for the moral and scientific ideals that he came to represent.
Jim Baggott is a freelance science writer specialising in physical sciences.