part0012

“In the heavens we discover [stars] by their light, and by their light alone. The sole evidence of the existence of these distant worlds. [And] each of them is built up of molecules of the same kinds we find on Earth. A molecule of hydrogen, for example, whether in Sirius or in Arcturus, executes its vibrations in precisely the same time. Each molecule therefore throughout the universe bears impressed upon it the stamp of a metric system as distinctly as does the meter of the Archives of Paris, or the royal cubit of the Temple of Karnac.”

It was in the first few months of 1877 that Maxwell first exhibited the symptoms of the disease that would ultimately end his life. He found that he was having terrible heartburn and discomfort. As a homemade remedy, he began to give himself liberal doses of sodium bicarbonate. Initially, this did seem to alleviate much of his difficulties, allowing him to continue work without interruption. Yet it wasn’t long before this band-aid ceased to mask the symptoms of Maxwell’s illness; soon even his colleagues began to notice that he had lost some of the spring in his step. Feeling exhausted much of the time, Maxwell started to turn down work and contributions that he normally would have been eager to take on.

In search of a remedy, Maxwell finally made an inquiry with a physician as to what might help his condition. The only advice he was given was to stay away from meat and drink a lot of milk. This almost certainly was not of much benefit. Despite his extra milk consumption, the painful attacks Maxwell felt were increasing in both frequency and severity.

In these dire straits, an associate by the name of William Garnett paid Maxwell a visit at Glenlair. Garnett was greatly dismayed at Maxwell’s deteriorated state yet also duly impressed with the way he soldiered on with chores and his insistence on carrying out evening prayers for the whole household. Despite his brave face, however, Maxwell carried no illusions as to the state of his health. He began to openly consider if he might be suffering from the ailment that took his mother’s life at right around the same age that he was now. The definitive prognosis would not come until a certain Professor Sanders paid Maxwell a visit on October 2, 1879.

Upon his examination, Sanders quickly determined that Maxwell was indeed suffering from abdominal cancer and, not attempting to sugarcoat the facts, bluntly informed him that he most likely only had a few weeks left of life. As is often the case with terminal patients, Maxwell’s care at this point turned from seeking a remedy to seeking mere mitigation of discomfort. Maxwell and his wife were instructed to go back to Cambridge so that an expert in palliative care, Dr. Paget, could make sure that Maxwell suffered as little as possible before he passed away. They accepted this fate and arrived by train on October 8.

In what today would be considered a hospice, Maxwell was given his final measure of comfort before he would pass on out of this world. By those that were around him in his last days, it was said that he presented a face of perfect calm. He didn’t complain about his circumstances; he just accepted them as best he could. In fact, he was more worried about those around him than he was for himself. Of particular concern for Maxwell at this time was what would happen to his wife after his passing, and he stressed that she must be properly cared for after he was gone.

Dr. Paget later described Maxwell’s final days, “His intellect also remained clear and apparently unimpaired to the last. While his bodily strength was ebbing away to death, his mind never wandered or wavered, but remained clear to the very end. No man ever met death more consciously or more calmly.” Much of this was seconded by Maxwell’s local physician at Glenlair, Dr. Lorraine. In a note to Dr. Paget, he wrote, “I must say he is one of the best men I have ever met, and a greater merit than his scientific achievements is his being, so far as human judgement can discern, a most perfect example of a Christian Gentleman.”

Surrounded by friends and family, Maxwell passed away on November 5, 1879, aged 48. His funeral was held a week later at the Church of St. Mary’s in Cambridge. Conducting his eulogy was one of his old friends, the honorable Reverend Butler, who described Maxwell as a “bright light” that had been “extinguished.” When the memorial services had come to a close, the mortal remains of James Clerk Maxwell were then taken back to his Scottish estate of Glenlair. From here he was taken to the family cemetery and buried beside his deceased mother and father. James Clerk Maxwell was gone, but he would never be forgotten.