The Shadow of Great Britain

519: Chapter 273 It’s not the best of times, it’s not the worst of times 519: Chapter 273 It’s not the best of times, it’s not the worst of times In the laboratory of the Royal Society, Faraday sat at the lab bench as usual, meticulously winding the insulated copper wire onto the stick one bit at a time for a future experiment.

He was no longer the young apprentice who had once carried bags for Sir Humphry Davy.

Now serving as the director of the Royal Society Laboratory, Faraday did not actually need to engage in such menial tasks anymore, as they could easily be delegated to his apprentices.

However, whenever he was not busy, he would still personally attend to these experimental details.

Counting the time since he had become Davy’s assistant at the age of twenty, another twenty years had passed.

Rigorously dealing with every aspect of the experiments had become ingrained in his very bones.

To those who met Faraday for the first time, his behavior, which seemed astonishing, was nothing more than a commonplace habit in his life.

Faraday skillfully wound the copper wire and, after what felt like an eternity, finally completed the last knot, setting down the pliers to examine the copper wire against the sunlit window.

It was as perfect as always, each insulated wire snugly packed together.

A satisfied smile appeared on the gentle face of Faraday, who maintained his usual debonair, kind, elegant, and humble demeanor, still the Michael Faraday whom the ladies of all circles in London respected and adored.

Suddenly, Faraday’s focus shifted.

Perhaps he had been too engrossed in his work, for he had just now noticed a man standing behind the copper wire, young researcher in electromagnetism who shared his humility—Mr.

Arthur Hastings.

Sitting on a stool and leaning on the lab bench, Faraday smiled and asked, “When did you get here?”

Arthur thought for a moment and replied vaguely, “Not long, I just arrived.”

“Arthur, oh Arthur!

You’re always like this.”

Faraday took off his gloves and stood up, saying, “I’ve told you many times.

You can come to the Royal Society to see me anytime, but you’re just too polite, almost to the point of being reserved.

Perhaps that’s why you can befriend Mr.

Wheatstone; both of you are introverts, which might be why you understand each other?

But according to common sense, as an officer at Scotland Yard, you shouldn’t be this introverted.”

Arthur, hearing this, chuckled brightly, “I think my personality can’t be simply categorized as introverted or extroverted.

Whether I’m introverted or extroverted is uncertain.

Mr.

Faraday, working in law enforcement is not much different from your work.

Are you an introvert?”

Faraday puzzled, “How so?”

Arthur began, “When you uncover truths that God has covered with a curtain, you can labor intensively for weeks, not wanting to speak mid-process and appearing as the most introverted person.

Yet, when you truly discover a truth, you’re willing to joyfully stand on the stage to announce your findings, regardless of whether the audience is men, women, the elderly, or children, nobility or commoners.

As long as they want to understand, you patiently explain to them, once, twice, three times, until they grasp it, appearing then as the most extroverted person.

That’s why I say your occupation and law enforcement work are fundamentally the same.”

Hearing this, Faraday burst into laughter, “There, now I see why you make a good officer.

Whether introverted or extroverted, with your eloquence, what job can’t you do well?

But tell me, have you really not considered giving a lecture at the Royal Society?

Even just one would be enough, I believe there would be many in the audience eager to hear your stories.”

Arthur raised his hand, patting his bandaged arm, and responded with a wry smile, “Mr.

Faraday, looking at my current state, do you think I am in the right condition to hold a lecture?”

Only then did Faraday remember that Arthur had been through a tough fight just the week before, and he couldn’t help but slightly scold, “While I shouldn’t dictate your life, Arthur, next time something like this happens, don’t go.

You are still young, with a promising future ahead, capable of uncovering many of God’s hidden mysteries.

There is much joy yet in your life.

You could die for many things, but dying from a momentary outrage is utterly foolish.

Think of your work; you rush around every day to save more lives in London, yet now you’ve done this.

Arthur, sorry, perhaps I sound too harsh, you might think I’m an old fuddy-duddy, but I sincerely hope that you will cherish your life more.”

Arthur, of course, agreed with Faraday; he had never intended to put his life in jeopardy on the dueling field.

Considering Faraday’s upright character, Arthur decided it’s best not to mention the insider dealings behind the duel.

Arthur, smiling, patted his arm again, and assured, “You needn’t have mentioned it, I won’t do this again.

Not to hide it from you, but it really hurts quite a bit.”

Faraday, amused by Arthur’s reaction, waved his hand, “Oh well, as long as you’re alright.

I’ve heard many of the ladies who attended the lecture say you were quite the warrior on the dueling field; the theater was full of smoke, with lightning flashing all around.

They were all anxious during the duel, and then you began touching the piano keys with bloodied fingertips.

They held their breaths until the theater lights came on and a pianist from Poland appeared on stage.

What can I say, Arthur, if you could channel the energy you put into staging performances into research, you could truly achieve much more than I ever could.”