The scientific picture of Faraday would not be complete without a reference to his speculative writings. On Friday, January 19, 1844, he opened the weekly evening-meetings of the Royal Institution by a discourse entitled 'A speculation touching Electric Conduction and the nature of Matter.' In this discourse he not only attempts the overthrow of Dalton's Theory of Atoms, but also the subversion of all ordinary scientific ideas regarding the nature and relations of Matter and Force. He objected to the use of the term atom:—'I have not yet found a mind,' he says, 'that did habitually separate it from its accompanying temptations; and there can be no doubt that the words definite proportions, equivalent, primes, &c., which did and do fully express all the facts of what is usually called the atomic theory in chemistry, were dismissed because they were not expressive enough, and did not say all that was in the mind of him who used the word atom in their stead.'

A moment will be granted me to indicate my own view of Faraday's position here. The word 'atom' was not used in the stead of definite proportions, equivalents, or primes. These terms represented facts that followed from, but were not equivalent to, the atomic theory. Facts cannot satisfy the mind: and the law of definite combining proportions being once established, the question 'why should combination take place according to that law?' is inevitable. Dalton answered this question by the enunciation of the Atomic Theory, the fundamental idea of which is, in my opinion, perfectly secure. The objection of Faraday to Dalton might be urged with the same substantial force against Newton: it might be stated with regard to the planetary motions that the laws of Kepler revealed the facts; that the introduction of the principle of gravitation was an addition to the facts. But this is the essence of all theory. The theory is the backward guess from fact to principle; the conjecture, or divination regarding something, which lies behind the facts, and from which they flow in necessary sequence. If Dalton's theory, then, account for the definite proportions observed in the combinations of chemistry, its justification rests upon the same basis as that of the principle of gravitation. All that can in strictness be said in either case is that the facts occur as if the principle existed.

The manner in which Faraday himself habitually deals with his hypotheses is revealed in this lecture. He incessantly employed them to gain experimental ends, but he incessantly took them down, as an architect removes the scaffolding when the edifice is complete. 'I cannot but doubt,' he says, 'that he who as a mere philosopher has most power of penetrating the secrets of nature, and guessing by hypothesis at her mode of working, will also be most careful for his own safe progress and that of others, to distinguish the knowledge which consists of assumption, by which I mean theory and hypothesis, from that which is the knowledge of facts and laws.' Faraday himself, in fact, was always 'guessing by hypothesis,' and making theoretic divination the stepping-stone to his experimental results.

I have already more than once dwelt on the vividness with which he realised molecular conditions; we have a fine example of this strength and brightness of imagination in the present 'speculation.' He grapples with the notion that matter is made up of particles, not in absolute contact, but surrounded by interatomic space. 'Space,' he observes, 'must be taken as the only continuous part of a body so constituted. Space will permeate all masses of matter in every direction like a net, except that in place of meshes it will form cells, isolating each atom from its neighbours, itself only being continuous.'

Let us follow out this notion; consider, he argues, the case of a non-conductor of electricity, such for example as shell-lac, with its molecules, and intermolecular spaces running through the mass. In its case space must be an insulator; for if it were a conductor it would resemble 'a fine metallic web,' penetrating the lac in every direction. But the fact is that it resembles the wax of black sealing-wax, which surrounds and insulates the particles of conducting carbon, interspersed throughout its mass. In the case of shell-lac, therefore, space is an insulator.

But now, take the case of a conducting metal. Here we have, as before, the swathing of space round every atom. If space be an insulator there can be no transmission of electricity from atom to atom. But there is transmission; hence space is a conductor. Thus he endeavours to hamper the atomic theory. 'The reasoning,' he says, 'ends in a subversion of that theory altogether; for if space be an insulator it cannot exist in conducting bodies, and if it be a conductor it cannot exist in insulating bodies. Any ground of reasoning,' he adds, as if carried away by the ardour of argument, 'which tends to such conclusions as these must in itself be false.'

He then tosses the atomic theory from horn to horn of his dilemmas. What do we know, he asks, of the atom apart from its force? You imagine a nucleus which may be called a, and surround it by forces which may be called m; 'to my mind the a or nucleus vanishes, and the substance consists in the powers of m. And indeed what notion can we form of the nucleus independent of its powers? What thought remains on which to hang the imagination of an a independent of the acknowledged forces?' Like Boscovich, he abolishes the atom, and puts a 'centre of force' in its place.

With his usual courage and sincerity he pushes his view to its utmost consequences. 'This view of the constitution of matter,' he continues, 'would seem to involve necessarily the conclusion that matter fills all space, or at least all space to which gravitation extends; for gravitation is a property of matter dependent on a certain force, and it is this force which constitutes the matter. In that view matter is not merely mutually penetrable; (1) but each atom extends, so to say, throughout the whole of the solar system, yet always retaining its own centre of force.'

It is the operation of a mind filled with thoughts of this profound, strange, and subtle character that we have to take into account in dealing with Faraday's later researches. A similar cast of thought pervades a letter addressed by Faraday to Mr. Richard Phillips, and published in the 'Philosophical Magazine' for May, 1846. It is entitled 'Thoughts on Ray-vibrations,' and it contains one of the most singular speculations that ever emanated from a scientific mind. It must be remembered here, that though Faraday lived amid such speculations he did not rate them highly, and that he was prepared at any moment to change them or let them go. They spurred him on, but they did not hamper him. His theoretic notions were fluent; and when minds less plastic than his own attempted to render those fluxional images rigid, he rebelled. He warns Phillips moreover, that from first to last, 'he merely threw out as matter for speculation the vague impressions of his mind; for he gave nothing as the result of sufficient consideration, or as the settled conviction, or even probable conclusion at which he had arrived.'

The gist of this communication is that gravitating force acts in lines across space, and that the vibrations of light and radiant heat consist in the tremors of these lines of force. 'This notion,' he says, 'as far as it is admitted, will dispense with the ether, which, in another view is supposed to be the medium in which these vibrations take place.' And he adds further on, that his view 'endeavours to dismiss the ether but not the vibrations.' The idea here set forth is the natural supplement of his previous notion, that it is gravitating force which constitutes matter, each atom extending, so to say, throughout the whole of the solar system.

The letter to Mr. Phillips winds up with this beautiful conclusion:—

'I think it likely that I have made many mistakes in the preceding pages, for even to myself my ideas on this point appear only as the shadow of a speculation, or as one of those impressions upon the mind which are allowable for a time as guides to thought and research. He who labours in experimental inquiries, knows how numerous these are, and how often their apparent fitness and beauty vanish before the progress and development of real natural truth.'

Let it then be remembered that Faraday entertained notions regarding matter and force altogether distinct from the views generally held by scientific men. Force seemed to him an entity dwelling along the line in which it is exerted. The lines along which gravity acts between the sun and earth seem figured in his mind as so many elastic strings; indeed he accepts the assumed instantaneity of gravity as the expression of the enormous elasticity of the 'lines of weight.' Such views, fruitful in the case of magnetism, barren, as yet, in the case of gravity, explain his efforts to transform this latter force. When he goes into the open air and permits his helices to fall, to his mind's eye they are tearing through the lines of gravitating power, and hence his hope and conviction that an effect would and ought to be produced. It must ever be borne in mind that Faraday's difficulty in dealing with these conceptions was at bottom the same as that of Newton; that he is in fact trying to overleap this difficulty, and with it probably the limits prescribed to the intellect itself.

The idea of lines of magnetic force was suggested to Faraday by the linear arrangement of iron filings when scattered over a magnet. He speaks of and illustrates by sketches, the deflection, both convergent and divergent, of the lines of force, when they pass respectively through magnetic and diamagnetic bodies. These notions of concentration and divergence are also based on the direct observation of his filings. So long did he brood upon these lines; so habitually did he associate them with his experiments on induced currents, that the association became 'indissoluble,' and he could not think without them. 'I have been so accustomed,' he writes, 'to employ them, and especially in my last researches, that I may have unwittingly become prejudiced in their favour, and ceased to be a clear-sighted judge. Still, I have always endeavoured to make experiment the test and controller of theory and opinion; but neither by that nor by close cross-examination in principle, have I been made aware of any error involved in their use.'

In his later researches on magne-crystallic action, the idea of lines of force is extensively employed; it indeed led him to an experiment which lies at the root of the whole question. In his subsequent researches on Atmospheric Magnetism the idea receives still wider application, showing itself to be wonderfully flexible and convenient. Indeed without this conception the attempt to seize upon the magnetic actions, possible or actual, of the atmosphere would be difficult in the extreme; but the notion of lines of force, and of their divergence and convergence, guides Faraday without perplexity through all the intricacies of the question. After the completion of those researches, and in a paper forwarded to the Royal Society on October 22, 1851, he devotes himself to the formal development and illustration of his favourite idea. The paper bears the title, 'On lines of magnetic force, their definite character, and their distribution within a magnet and through space.' A deep reflectiveness is the characteristic of this memoir. In his experiments, which are perfectly beautiful and profoundly suggestive, he takes but a secondary delight. His object is to illustrate the utility of his conception of lines of force. 'The study of these lines,' he says, 'has at different times been greatly influential in leading me to various results which I think prove their utility as well as fertility.'

Faraday for a long period used the lines of force merely as 'a representative idea.' He seemed for a time averse to going further in expression than the lines themselves, however much further he may have gone in idea. That he believed them to exist at all times round a magnet, and irrespective of the existence of magnetic matter, such as iron filings, external to the magnet, is certain. No doubt the space round every magnet presented itself to his imagination as traversed by loops of magnetic power; but he was chary in speaking of the physical substratum of those loops. Indeed it may be doubted whether the physical theory of lines of force presented itself with any distinctness to his own mind. The possible complicity of the luminiferous ether in magnetic phenomena was certainly in his thoughts. 'How the magnetic force,' he writes, 'is transferred through bodies or through space we know not; whether the result is merely action at a distance, as in the case of gravity; or by some intermediate agency, as in the case of light, heat, the electric current, and (as I believe) static electric action. The idea of magnetic fluids, as applied by some, or of Magnetic centres of action, does not include that of the latter kind of transmission, but the idea of lines of force does.' And he continues thus:—'I am more inclined to the notion that in the transmission of the (magnetic) force there is such an action (an intermediate agency) external to the magnet, than that the effects are merely attraction and repulsion at a distance. Such an affection may be a function of the ether; for it is not at all unlikely that, if there be an ether, it should have other uses than simply the conveyance of radiations.' When he speaks of the magnet in certain cases, 'revolving amongst its own forces,' he appears to have some conception of this kind in view.

A great part of the investigation completed in October, 1851, was taken up with the motions of wires round the poles of a magnet and the converse. He carried an insulated wire along the axis of a bar magnet from its pole to its equator, where it issued from the magnet, and was bent up so as to connect its two ends. A complete circuit, no part of which was in contact with the magnet, was thus obtained. He found that when the magnet and the external wire were rotated together no current was produced; whereas, when either of them was rotated and the other left at rest currents were evolved. He then abandoned the axial wire, and allowed the magnet itself to take its place; the result was the same. (2) It was the relative motion of the magnet and the loop that was effectual in producing a current.

The lines of force have their roots in the magnet, and though they may expand into infinite space, they eventually return to the magnet. Now these lines may be intersected close to the magnet or at a distance from it. Faraday finds distance to be perfectly immaterial so long as the number of lines intersected is the same. For example, when the loop connecting the equator and the pole of his barmagnet performs one complete revolution round the magnet, it is manifest that all the lines of force issuing from the magnet are once intersected. Now it matters not whether the loop be ten feet or ten inches in length, it matters not how it may be twisted and contorted, it matters not how near to the magnet or how distant from it the loop may be, one revolution always produces the same amount of current electricity, because in all these cases all the lines of force issuing from the magnet are once intersected and no more.

From the external portion of the circuit he passes in idea to the internal, and follows the lines of force into the body of the magnet itself. His conclusion is that there exist lines of force within the magnet of the same nature as those without. What is more, they are exactly equal in amount to those without. They have a relation in direction to those without; and in fact are continuations of them.... 'Every line of force, therefore, at whatever distance it may be taken from the magnet, must be considered as a closed circuit, passing in some part of its course through the magnet, and having an equal amount of force in every part of its course.'

All the results here described were obtained with moving metals. 'But,' he continues with profound sagacity, 'mere motion would not generate a relation, which had not a foundation in the existence of some previous state; and therefore the quiescent metals must be in some relation to the active centre of force,' that is to the magnet. He here touches the core of the whole question, and when we can state the condition into which the conducting wire is thrown before it is moved, we shall then be in a position to understand the physical constitution of the electric current generated by its motion.

In this inquiry Faraday worked with steel magnets, the force of which varies with the distance from the magnet. He then sought a uniform field of magnetic force, and found it in space as affected by the magnetism of the earth. His next memoir, sent to the Royal Society, December 31, 1851, is 'on the employment of the Induced Magnetoelectro Current as a test and measure of magnetic forces.' He forms rectangles and rings, and by ingenious and simple devices collects the opposed currents which are developed in them by rotation across the terrestrial lines of magnetic force. He varies the shapes of his rectangles while preserving their areas constant, and finds that the constant area produces always the same amount of current per revolution. The current depends solely on the number of lines of force intersected, and when this number is kept constant the current remains constant too. Thus the lines of magnetic force are continually before his eyes, by their aid he colligates his facts, and through the inspirations derived from them he vastly expands the boundaries of our experimental knowledge. The beauty and exactitude of the results of this investigation are extraordinary. I cannot help thinking while I dwell upon them, that this discovery of magneto-electricity is the greatest experimental result ever obtained by an investigator. It is the Mont Blanc of Faraday's own achievements. He always worked at great elevations, but a higher than this he never subsequently attained.