My dear old friend, I would fain write to you, but, indeed, write to no one, and have now a burn on the fingers of my right hand which adds to my trouble; so that I still use my dear J.’s hand as one better than my own, and fear I give her great work by so doing. She has, I understand, written to you this morning, and told you how averse I am to meddling with sepulchral honours in any case. I shall mention your good will to Anderson2, but I tell them what are my feelings. I have told several what may be my own desire. To have a plain simple funeral, attended by none but my own relatives, followed by a gravestone of the most ordinary kind, in the simplest earthly place.
As death draws nigh to old men or people, this world disappears, or should become of little importance. It is so with me; but I cannot say it simply to others3, for I cannot write it as I would.
Yours, dear old friend, whilst permitted, | M. Faraday
BENCE JONES, Henry (1870a): The Life and Letters of Faraday, 1st edition, 2 volumes, London.
Please cite as “Faraday4574,” in Ɛpsilon: The Michael Faraday Collection accessed on 24 April 2024, https://epsilon.ac.uk/view/faraday/letters/Faraday4574