shadow of britain

Chapter 707 King's College? It turns out to be a little punk!

Everything was the same as before in the Royal Society's laboratories.

Copper wire coils, glass containers, iron racks, scales, wooden laboratory tables, and that strange smell that was a cross between medicine, ash and wet lime.

Michael Faraday was squatting between a set of zinc and copper plates, adjusting the contact angle of the electrodes.

The cuffs of the cotton jacket, which had been washed so much that it looked bleached, had been stained with indelible marks from chemicals.

The assistant who was gently wiping the crystals on the edge of the test tube with a canvas recognized Arthur at a glance. After all, he had done the same job as him in this laboratory before.

"Sir Arthur Hastings?"

"No, sir." Arthur smiled, "Just a gentleman who happened to be passing by today and stopped by to visit some old friends."

The assistant gave a friendly smile, said nothing more, and just quietly stepped aside, leaving the space to this "old friend" who had moved batteries, wiped copper pipes, and had trembling hands for an entire afternoon marking the glass thermometer here.

Faraday did not seem to notice Arthur's arrival immediately, as he was completely focused on his own experiment.

I saw him using a pair of extremely thin tweezers to move the electrode. His movements were just like a surgeon performing an autopsy, with every bit of force controlled to just the right degree.

Arthur did not go forward to disturb him, but just stood quietly at the door, observing what new tricks this leader of British natural philosophy was going to come up with recently.

After a few minutes, Faraday finally clamped the last wire. He stood up, stretched his wrist, and then slowly turned around.

Faraday's eyes met Arthur's, and he asked with a little surprise: "Arthur? When did you get here?"

Arthur walked forward and smiled, "I just arrived not long ago. Are you studying electrolysis reactions again?"

He spoke to himself, slowly stood up, and brushed off the dust on his body: "Well, I found that the gases precipitated in salt solutions of different concentrations will be different. At first I thought it was a problem of reaction rate, but after controlling the variables, I think it may not be the reaction rate, but it is related to the structure of the intermediate medium..."

Upon hearing this, Arthur couldn't help but mutter, "During the electrolysis process, the mass of the precipitated substance is proportional to the product of the current intensity and the time it passes through."

Faraday was stunned for a moment when he heard this: "You also discovered this pattern?"

Arthur shook his head and replied quite naturally: "I didn't discover it, you told me. Have you forgotten that you taught me that when I was helping out in the laboratory..."

"Did I?" Faraday scratched his head. "Did I forget?"

"You probably forgot." Arthur said with concern: "I told you a long time ago that you should pay more attention to rest. Long-term poor rest will easily affect your memory. I guess you didn't forget that 'the ratio of the masses of different substances precipitated under the same amount of electricity is equal to the ratio of their chemical equivalents'?"

Faraday's expression changed slightly, and an indescribable confusion emerged in his already somewhat tired eyes.

He stared at Arthur for a few seconds, as if trying to find some clues from the face of his former assistant.

"You mean... I have proposed these two laws?" He spoke slowly, his tone was not doubtful, but it was also full of caution. "But I remember that in my recent experimental notes, I have not yet clearly linked these mass ratios with the amount of electricity. I made some observations, but they are just sporadic guesses."

Arthur knew that this step would come sooner or later, but in his opinion, Faraday would propose Faraday's law of electrolysis sooner or later anyway. At this critical moment, it would be good to give him a reminder, even if it could help him sleep a few more nights.

He smiled softly, his tone relaxed and almost playful: "Then you can check your experimental records from the past two years now. Maybe you can find some traces, or maybe you simply forgot to write it down?"

Faraday murmured to himself, with a hint of uneasiness in his eyes: "This is not like me..."

He has great confidence in his consistent organization and self-discipline. Perhaps because of this, the suspicion of memory gaps seems particularly difficult to accept.

Seeing this, Arthur restrained his tone and said apologetically, "I don't mean to offend you, Mr. Faraday. But as a former detective, I am confident that my memory is unmatched. In order to solve the case, I must remember every tiny detail and make further inferences. Maybe you didn't say this directly, but from your words, I can infer that you have discovered the relevant rules a long time ago."

Faraday did not answer immediately. He walked slowly to the laboratory table, his fingertips lightly touching an unused copper plate.

When he was silent, he always gave people an almost religious solemnity, and that atmosphere made Arthur calm down as well, not daring to interrupt easily.

After a while, Faraday finally spoke. He pressed his forehead helplessly, his voice low and steady: "Arthur, sometimes I feel that you know much more than you should know."

"You know, I never envy people with talent." Faraday continued, "But you are different. You are not the kind of person who relies solely on cleverness. Your questions always have a sense of direction. It's as if you already know where you want to go, and you're just waiting for the rest of us to catch up."

Arthur took off his hat and put it on his chest, then asked Faraday with a smile: "Can I take your words as a compliment?"

Upon hearing this, Faraday joked with Arthur: "You can take it as a compliment, but before that you must tell me whether you secretly went to the gate of heaven to eavesdrop on God's whispers during the three days you lay in the church."

Arthur laughed out loud. "If I really went to heaven, how could I bear to come back? You might as well guess that I went to hell, so I hurried to open the coffin as if my butt was on fire."

"You still like to joke." Faraday laughed twice, with a hint of nostalgia in his tone: "It has been a year since we last met in Göttingen. Are you returning to London from the European continent to vacation and visit relatives?"

Arthur scolded Faraday: "It seems that you have been staying in the laboratory for several weeks, busy with experiments and have no time to read The Times. I am not visiting my relatives, but have been 'dismissed'. To be honest, I have been unemployed for more than a week."

"Unemployed vagrant?" Faraday raised his eyebrows and said jokingly, "I'm afraid these four words are even less credible when applied to you than the Assistant Commissioner of Police."

Arthur spread his hands and said innocently, "That's the truth. Viscount Palmerston has approved my resignation, and I have also verbally promised the Ministry of Foreign Affairs not to speak out in any public occasion for the time being. Now I am a free man, with no boss, no bills, and only a few editorial letters that need to be sent on time and a bunch of scribes who are in arrears of wages."

Farah was stunned for a moment, then smiled and said, "Are you back to publishing again?"

"Yes." Arthur nodded. "Dealing with the printing union, arguing with poets and playwrights, and haggling over prices with advertisers. To be honest, it's more tiring than diplomacy."

Faraday joked, but his tone was much gentler: "So, are you here today to submit a paper on electrolysis to me, or to sell me advertising space? It can't be that you have changed your mind and are finally ready to join the Royal Society, right?"

Arthur smiled and shook his head, then he took out a thick brown paper envelope from his coat pocket and gently placed it on the corner of the lab table. "Neither. I came here today with another formal invitation."

Faraday looked at the letter and his expression became more restrained.

He didn't reach out to take it, but just asked quietly: "University of London?" "Yes." Arthur said in a steady tone: "The University of London Management Committee is looking for a new provost and has decided to set up a new physics laboratory. The professors on the committee unanimously believe that you are the best candidate to lead the University of London Physics Laboratory. As the new provost who just took office fifteen minutes ago, I have the obligation and selfishness to come here in person to try and see if I can invite you."

Faraday finally sighed after hearing this. He did not refuse immediately, nor did he show joy.

"Arthur, it's not that I haven't considered giving lectures at the University of London. It's indeed a place to be proud of. You know I agree with its philosophy of openness, equality, non-sectarianism, and non-classification. But I also know that if I accept this position, it means I will have to spend a lot of time doing things I'm not good at. Approving courses, organizing budgets, writing charters, participating in management, and even explaining what electromagnetic force is to a room full of students who have never touched a battery."

Arthur did not interrupt, but just listened quietly.

Faraday continued, "It's not that I don't want to work for education. But I'm no longer young. Experiments take time, steady hands, and a clear mind. I'm afraid that if I take care of both research and administration at the same time, I'll delay both. It will do you, the school, and myself no good."

Arthur certainly knew Faraday's difficulties, and he was also quite sympathetic to this approachable founder of electromagnetism.

"You don't need to explain so much. Your contribution is seen by everyone. Generally speaking, researchers like you don't need to insist on hosting the Friday evening lectures of the Royal Society, let alone hold a free Christmas lecture for children on Christmas, a day when families reunite, to popularize natural philosophy knowledge. If your philosophy of benefiting the public is not the same as ours, the University of London would not want you to be the director of our laboratory among many British scholars, and would not have wanted to invite you several times. I come to invite you today not to embarrass you, but more to show my respect for you. After all, if I skip you and choose someone else, if the students and professors knew about it, they would definitely complain that I am not doing my job well."

Arthur said that he would not make things difficult for Faraday, but once he said this tactic of retreating in order to advance, Faraday, with his gentle personality, was unable to refuse.

Faraday smiled softly and shook his head: "You are a person who always makes it hard for people to refuse you."

He finally picked up the letter and weighed it in his palm, but did not open it. He looked at the electrodes and salt bridge on the table and said slowly, "You are right. I give Christmas lectures not for the Royal Society's reputation, nor for my own honor. I don't charge because I always believe that real science should not charge children for admission. They come with curiosity, and we should leave with the truth. Maybe the University of London is really the place closest to this ideal, but..."

Arthur continued with a smile, "You don't have to be so embarrassed. I have no intention of forcing you. But even if you don't want to leave the Royal Society, if you are willing to move the annual Christmas lecture to the newly built auditorium of the University of London, we will definitely welcome it. It is definitely more spacious than the lecture hall of Gresham College, and I assure you that we will not charge even a penny for tickets and venue fees."

When Faraday heard the proposal to "move the Christmas lectures to the University of London", his hands, which were originally playing with the envelope, suddenly stopped, and his eyes, which were always calculating the length of the wire and the voltage and current, raised up. He stared at Arthur for several seconds, as if to confirm that the new provost was not joking about tradition.

"You mean to ask me to move my Christmas lectures from the Royal Institution to the University of London?"

"If you like." Arthur's face was full of harmless smiles. "The Royal Society is of course a long history, but the real significance of the Christmas lectures is not in which house on which street it is given, but in who is giving the lecture, to whom, and what is being given. As long as you are there, even under London Bridge, the children will run to listen."

Faraday blinked. "Can you really not charge admission? As I recall, your school's budget has always been tight."

"For a school that charges only 31 pounds and 6 shillings, it is inevitable that the budget will be tight. But for the sake of education, we will do it even if we have to mortgage our teaching charter to the bank." Arthur said seriously: "If you are willing to give a lecture, it is no problem for me to prepare refreshments for the children at my own expense. Of course, don't make it too luxurious, otherwise they will think that this is a noble lady's treat."

Faraday finally laughed out loud. He slowly put down the envelope in his hand, and his eyes lit up with the same light that he had when he gave the first Christmas lecture on "Light and Color" in 1825: "That's right... It's been a long time since anyone talked to me about Christmas lectures like this. You're right, as long as it's science, what does it matter where you give it?"

He stood up and brushed off the dust on his body, as if to make a ceremony for his decision: "Then give it a try. This Christmas, I will go to the University of London to give a lecture."

Arthur half-jokingly said, "Then can I also go and take a seat in the front row? I didn't even dare to sit on the high stool in the laboratory for a long time back then."

"You are the Dean of Academic Affairs now, so it is not unusual for you to sit in the first row. And with your current level, you can easily replace me in hosting the Christmas lecture." Faraday smiled and shook his head, then changed his tone: "But if you really want to liven up the laboratory, it will take more than just a Christmas lecture."

He turned and walked to the bookshelf in the corner, pulled out a rough-bound lab record book, flipped through a few pages, as if to confirm something, and then said nonchalantly, "If you're looking for the laboratory director, I happen to have a suitable candidate here."

Arthur thought it was a great victory to get Faraday to agree to move the Christmas lectures to the University of London, but who knew that this perfect scientist actually offered a buy-one-get-one-free service.

He quickly asked, "Who?"

Faraday said casually, without looking up, "Charles Wheatstone."

"Whitstone?" Arthur was stunned for a moment, then his expression became strange: "Are you serious? I don't mean to belittle Charles's level, but you know that guy can't even speak clearly on the podium, and his calves are cramping."

"No." Faraday shook his head and looked serious. "If I were to choose an orator, he would not be a qualified candidate, but I chose the skeleton of the laboratory. Charles may not be good at giving speeches, but he understands electricity, instruments, and how to turn abstract theories into sparks that can fall on wooden tables. He is a loner and does not fight or compete, but if you give him a room, a budget, and a few students, he can turn that room into the most advanced electrical laboratory in London in half a year."

Arthur's expression gradually became serious. It was not that he did not believe Faraday's judgment, but he habitually thought two steps further, especially when this name was related to the development of the University of London in the next few years.

Faraday saw that Arthur was still hesitating, so he added: "Arthur, I have to remind you that the quick hand will get the slow hand. Did you know that King's College has just established a professorship of experimental physics?"

"King's College?" Arthur immediately became alert when he heard the name of this school.

Although students of the University of London have always compared their alma mater with Cambridge and Oxford, from a realistic perspective, King's College, which was founded almost at the same time as the University of London and is also located in London, is their biggest rival.

Because the University of London, like King's College, is a school with a strong political color.

The founders of the University of London, Lord Brougham, Earl Daramore and others were all representatives of the radical Whig Party, while King's College was established by the Tories specifically to counter the radical liberal University of London.

As Elder often said: "King's College? Oh, that's just a footnote written by the Duke of Wellington to refute the main text of us London University."

Compared to the University of London, which had a difficult time in its early days, King's College received strong support from King George IV when it was first established. It was led by the then Prime Minister, the Duke of Wellington. Tory leaders Sir Robert Peel and the Duke of Newcastle have donated large sums of money to the school.

When King's College was first established in 1829, it stipulated in its school charter that students must swear to abide by the Thirty-Nine Articles of the established religion, which naturally excluded non-Anglicans.

Since its founding in 1826, the University of London has emphasized "non-sectarian education" and publicly declared: No matter what god you believe in, where you come from, or whether you have a title, as long as you are willing to study, the University of London will give you a desk.

Because of this, the two schools have long disliked each other.

Whenever students from the two schools meet, they would either engage in physical fights or verbal fights.

Moreover, these two schools even have their own sphere of influence.

For example, the Lamb in Holborn was long under the control of the University of London, where minions in sacerdotal robes, the king's lackeys and sanctimonious people with classical accents were not allowed to enter.

The Knights Templar pub on the Strand was the headquarters of King's College, where atheists, Jews and revolutionaries who knew Latin by heart were all kicked out.

From this perspective, even if Arthur felt that Wheatstone might not be the best person to lead the University of London Physics Laboratory, it did not mean that he was willing to see his friend fall into the cesspool of King's College.

Arthur sneered: "The University of London says that boiling water is a science, while King's College says that boiling water is a miracle. Do they still need to invite Charles to be a professor? Students of that school can get a diploma after reading the Book of Job. If they invite Charles to come now, won't it destroy their teaching system?"

(End of this chapter)