APPENDIX.

Diagram VI.

Diagram VII.

It is evident that the sharp point of one man is always running into another man’s sensitive or soft edge. Each man is in continual apprehension of every other man: not only does each fear each, but their sensitive edges—those on which they are receptive of all except the roughest impressions—are turned away from each other.

On the sensitive edge is the face and all the means of expression of feeling. The other edge is covered with a horny thickening of the skin, which at the sharp point becomes very dense and as hard as iron. It will be evident, on moving the figures about that no two men could naturally come face to face with each other.

In this land no such thing as friendship or familiar intercourse between man and man is possible. The very name of it is ridiculous to them. For the only way in which one man can turn his sensitive edge to another man is if one of them will consent to stand on his head. Fathers hold their male children in this way when little, but the first symptom of manhood is connected with a resentment against this treatment.

If now two women, Mulier and Femina, be looked at, the same relation will be seen to hold good between them. By their nature they are predisposed, by accident, to injure one another, and their impressionable sides are, by the very conditions of their being, turned away from each other.

If now, however, Homo and Mulier be placed together, a very different relationship manifests itself. They cannot injure one another, and each is framed for the most delightful converse with the other. Nothing can be more secure from the outside world than a pair of approximately the same height; each protects the sensitive edge of each, and their armoured edges and means of offence are turned against all comers, either in one direction or the other. But, if the pair, through a mutual misunderstanding, happen to be disadjusted, and, their feet on the rim, turn their sharpnesses against one another, they are absolutely exposed to the harms and arrows of the world.

Still, even in this case they cannot wound one another—a happy immunity.

In the annals of this race which I have by me I find a curious history, which, unintelligible for ages to them, admits by us of a simple explanation.

It is said that two beings, the most ideally perfect Vir and Mulier, were once living in a state of most perfect happiness, when, owing to certain abstruse studies of the Mulier, she was suddenly, in all outward respects, turned irremediably into a man. Vir recognized her as the same true Mulier. But she occupied the same position with regard to him which any other man would. It was only by standing on his head that he could, with his sensitive edge, approach her sensitive edge. She refused to explain how it was, or impart her secret to any one, but she had, she said, undergone a great peril.She manifested a strange knowledge of the internal anatomy of the race, and most of their medical knowledge dates from her. But no persuasion would induce her to reveal her secret; all the privacy of existence would be gone, she said, if she revealed it. She was supposed to have acquired some magical knowledge.

This possession, however, did not make either of them happy, and one day, with fear, she said that she would either die or be restored to the outward semblance of her sex.

She disappeared—absolutely; although she was surrounded by her friends, she absolutely vanished. And had it not been that some days afterwards, cutting through the solid rock for the purposes of some excavations, they accidentally came on a chasm, they would never have found her alive again. For she was found in a cavity in the living rock, warm and beautiful—her old self again.

Her secret died with her.

From our point of view it is easy to see what had happened. If the figure Mulier be taken up and turned over it will be easy to see that, though still a woman, her configuration has become that of a man. To all intents and purposes she is a man. She is rendered incapable of that attitude which is the natural one between the men and women in this land, and the happy relationship between her and Vir is necessarily and entirely broken off. Move about as you will, keeping her figure turned thus on the plane, you will not be able to make her a fitting helpmate for her unfortunate Vir. She must have discovered the secret of raising herself off the surface, and by some accident been turned over. Perhaps she had used this new position to study anatomy—for to an observer thus situatedthe interior of every body would lie perfectly open—and in prosecuting her studies had overbalanced herself.

I have only mentioned this anecdote, however, for the sake of a curious observation which was made at the time. It was found that when she was in this transformed condition she was absolutely without atmosphere. To explain: ordinarily, apart from anything she said or did, there was a kind of influence proceeding from her which made her presence agreeable to Vir. When she was turned over she lost this. Now the explanation of this is obvious. To these people light is the agitation of the surface of the bubble; transparent objects are those which do not hinder this agitation in its course. But most bodies and the physical frame of the inhabitants amongst them were not transparent, but stopped and reflected these agitations of the film, thus sending off from their outer edge those vibrations which excited sight in their fellows. But besides these vibrations of light there were finer ones still which were not damped or deflected by the outer edge of the body, but came through the greater part of their frame as if it was transparent. In the interior, however, of their organizations there were certain regions which did arrest these subtler vibrations, and which had (as the eye of light) the power of appreciating them. In connection with these regions there were certain structures, extremely minute, which had the converse power of agitating the film, and so sending forth through the periphery of the body these same minute vibrations. These organs were not of any use, but they formed a sort of means of sympathetic communication between the inhabitants, acting in no very defined way, but certainly producing a sensation of a vague kind. Now when Mulier was turned in the way described, the relation of her frame to the film of the bubble was disarranged, and it was no wonder that this “atmosphere” disappeared.

In many respects the inhabitants of this world are far more advanced than we are, having a simpler problem—how to deal with matter in one plane—they have advanced more nearly to a complete knowledge of its properties. Yet great as their knowledge is, their performance is small. If you but reflect on one single fact, you will see how limited all their efforts must be.They cannot fix the centre of a wheel, so that it rotates round an axis.For consider a wheel—a small disk lying on their plane. The centre on every part of it touches the surface of the bubble on which all things slide freely. To fix this point they would have to drive down into the film—a thing which they cannot do, and which they are far from even imagining.

If they make an opening in the disk they can arrive at the centre of it. But then the rod of matter which they put in will prevent the disk from revolving.

Diagram VIII.—The nearest approach to a wheel.

The nearest approach to a wheel with a fixed centre which they can attain is shown in Diagram VIII., a portion of a circular disk which oscillates about the smooth end of a rod built into the substance of the cut-away disk.

Diagram IX.—A cart.

Their carts are shown in the accompanying figure. They are simply rods placed on rollers: as the rod is pulled along, the rollers turn, and the rod slides along—just as a boat does on the rollers whereby sailors help themselves in hauling it up the beach. As soon as these rollers roll from under the rod, as it goes on in itsforward motion, they have to be secured, and then lifted over the cart and put down in front. Thus there are to each cart a set of little disks or rollers, and, as the cart goes on, these rollers have to be lifted over the cart from the back to the front.

There is no means by which this can be made a continuous action. Each roller has to be waited for, lifted separately, and carried over separately. And to put it down in front, the rope by which the cart is dragged along has to be unfastened and fastened up again.

Looking at the Diagram IX. it will be seen that there is a hollow in the body of the cart. On the part A B the driver sits. In the hollow from B to C is put the load. The load cannot then slip out over the ends of the cart. There is nothing in the cart to prevent it from falling out sideways.

But the contents, as the whole body of the cart, are kept to the smooth surface of the bubble, and are thus supported by it on the side remote from the reader’s eye, and also are kept from rising away from this surface by the force of attraction exerted by the film.

Thus the surface of the bubble and its attractive force supply the other two sides of the cart.

But of these two sides, the beings are ignorant, and it seems to them perfectly natural that loads of any kind, even of fluids, should be kept securely in a cart with two ends.

Diagram X.—How a rope is fixed to a cart.

The method by which the rope is fastened to the cart is this: C is the body of the cart; R is the rope ending in a wooden step B; A is an oblong piece of wood. When the rope has to be taken out, A is lifted out by its handle, B is slipped back and taken out of the recessin C, and then the rope is free from the cart. And in a similar way it is secured again.

One very ordinary way of driving machinery with us is by shafting. A long rod is driven round and carries wheels at different places along its length. Now with these inhabitants it was impossible to do this, because the twisting motion round a rod could not be imparted without going out of the thin layer in which they were. Their methods of transmitting motion were by long rods, by a succession of short rods, by pendulums attached to one another, or finally by wheels which drove one another, but which were held by smooth sockets fitting round the rim far enough to steady them, but not so far as to hinder them from touching each other.

As to their science, the best plan is to give a short account of its rise.

They discovered that they were on a disk rotating round an inner centre, and also proceeding in a path round the source of light and heat.

They found that they were held in their path by a force of attraction. But this attractive force was not with them as it is with us. With us, since the effect which any particle has on the surrounding particles spreads out in our space if the distance is doubled from a centre of attraction, the force it exercises becomes one-quarter of what it was when at the less distance.

With them, however, when the distance doubled, the force of attraction became only one-half of what it was at the less distance. For the light, or attraction, or force of any kind emanating from a particle, only spreads along the film, and does not pass out into the space above or beneath. If they had been on a thick globe instead of a bubble, the laws of attraction would have been the same as with us. But the bubble on which they were was thin compared with the paths along which the radiantforces spread forth. And thus every force being kept to one plane diminished as the distance from the centre of its action.[2]

Now it was a great problem with them how the light came from the central orb. Their atmosphere, they knew, extended but a small distance above the surface of their disk. And it was quite incapable, moreover, of conveying vibrations such as those of light and heat.

By studying the nature of light they became convinced that to transmit it there must be a medium of extreme rigidity between them and the great source of light.

It is easy enough to see that what they thought was a medium between them and their sun was in reality the rigid surface on which they rested. This elastic film vibrated in a direction transverse to the layer they called matter, and carried the particles of matter with it. But they, having no idea but that the surface on which they were was the whole of space, thought that space must be filled with a rigid medium. They found that the vibrations of the medium were at right angles to the direction in which a ray was propagated. But they did not conceive of a motion at right angles to their plane; they thought it must be in their plane.

It was a puzzle to them how their disk glided with so little friction through this medium. They concluded it was infinitely rare. They were still more puzzled when they had reason to believe it was an opaque substance; and yet that it could be anything else than a medium which filled their space was inconceivable to them. They could never get rid of it from a vacuum, however perfect. Indeed we see that in producing a vacuum they merely cleaned the surface on which they were.

In one respect it might have been advantageous ifthey had known, for, their law of attraction being what it was, their movement round their sun was not destined to go on for ever; but they were gradually falling nearer and nearer. Now, if only they had made the attempt, they might by some means have got a hold on the surface on which they were, and, by means of a keel which tended to furrow it, have guided their world and themselves in their path round their sun. Indeed, it is possible to imagine them navigating themselves whither they would through their universe—that is, on the surface of their bubble.

It was also unfortunate in another respect that they did not realize the fact of the supporting surface, for the feeling which they came to have of being suspended in space, absolutely isolated, was a very unsettling one, and tended to cause in them a certain lack of the feeling of solidarity with the rest of the universe.

We have seen that their laws of mechanics were very different from ours. But they had after all an experience of our mechanical principles, though in a curious way. In all motions of any magnitude moving bodies were confined to the surface of the plane. But where the small particles were concerned there was more liberty of motion. The small particles were free in their movement; although they could not go more than a very small distance away from the film on which they rested, still they were capable of motion perpendicular to it. Thus a long line of particles connected together could rotate as a whole, keeping straight like a twisting wire, and by means of many strings of particles thus connected, movements could be transmitted in a way which was totally unlike the mechanical movements to be seen in the case of large masses.

This motion of rotation round an axis lying in the plane was to them what electricity is to us. It was quitea mysterious force. But it was extremely useful in its applications. Having no idea of a rotation which in taking place went out of their surface, they could not conceive a reason for the results of such movements.

It can easily be seen how many kinds of forces they could have. There was the spinning motion of the small particles on the surface. This they were aware of—it produced many appearances, but it was not fitted for transmission across great distances, as each particle was apt to be hindered in its rotation by its neighbour. Sometimes, however, when conditions were favourable, many of these rotations were harmonious, and waves were produced in their matter resembling the waves in our ocean.

There were only two other kinds of motion. One was an up and down vibration of the film carrying matter with it; the other was the twisting of strings of particles which were rigidly connected together. The up and down motion of the film was to them light. Those kinds of matter which did not hinder this motion were said to be transparent; those kinds which, lying on the film, hindered the motion or threw it back were said to be opaque.

The twisting motion round an axis was to them what electricity is to us. And when this twisting motion in one direction or another was conveyed to the particles of small masses which were free to move, many curious effects were produced analogous to the movements of electrified bodies. There are obviously no other rotations or vibrations possible; hence in that world there is nothing corresponding to magnetism. Their light was simple, and could not be split into two kinds as our light can be—into two kinds of polarized light.

Was there no sign, then, by which the inhabitants of this world could gain a knowledge of their own limitation?There was. There was both a sign and the interpretation of it lying before them. They knew that they could have two triangles precisely similar, and yet such as could not be turned the one into the other by any movement in the plane. How two things could be so alike, and yet differ in some mysterious way, was to them a puzzle. As an instance of such triangles may be taken those used in Diagram VI. to represent the man and the woman. They may be exactly equal, yet the beings in a plane world cannot turn them so that one would coincide with the other.

Yet had they but considered the case of a being lower in the scale of space existence than themselves, they would have seen the answer to their riddle. For consider a being confined altogether to a line

_____________________C′ B′ A′ M A B C.

Let M be the being, and let him observe the three points A B C, and let him form an idea of them and their positions with regard to each other, which he measures by the distance he has to travel to reach one after passing the other.

Let him also become aware of the three points A′ B′ C′, forming a precisely similar set on the other side of him.

It may be objected that the being in the line could not conceive any point lying beyond A, but that his experience would be limited to the points A and A′. If A and A′ are material particles this would be the case, but we may suppose them to be places in the line marked out by cold and heat, or some such means. Then a being could conceive a series of positions in his space such as A, B and C, A′, B′, C′.

If now he remembers each set, and thinks about them, he finds that they are alike in every respect. But he cannot make them coincide with each other. For if hepushes the set A B C along the line, when A B and A′ B′ are together C is just where it ought not to be. It is not on C′. And if he gets C on C′, then A B has gone far away.

He would neither be able to make them coincide nor to conceive their coincidence.

There would be no movement within the realm of his experience which would make them coincide.

Yet the dweller in a plane world could easily make these sets of points coincide, for he would bend the whole line round in his plane so that A coming on A′, B should come on B′, and C on C′. There would be no difficulty to him in doing this. And he does it in virtue of there being to him a movement possible which is not possible to the being in the line. He has a liberty of motion unknown to the linear being.

And now why should he not reason thus, “Something which to the linear being is inconceivable, to me is conceivable. Then may not things inconceivable to me be yet possible? May it not be possible that two triangles which are like one another, but yet which cannot be thought by me as coinciding—may not these triangles be able to be made coincident”?

In this simple fact of his perpetual observation was really the proof of the whole matter if he had but looked at it, the sign manual of his limitation, the promise of his liberation from it in thought, the key to the explanation of the mysterious minute actions by which he was surrounded, and perchance a help to the comprehension of a higher life.

In our world a particle of matter which sends forth influence on the surrounding matter does not send its radiant energy off along a plane, but from the particle all the influence spreads out into space. And the most convenient instance in our world to consider is that of a luminous point from which rays spread out in every direction. Let M in Diagram XI. be such a point—a particle of matter sending forth luminous rays in our three-dimensional space.

Diagram XI.—Particles in space and in a plane exerting force.

Instead of studying how these rays spread out in every way all around M, let us only consider those which, passingout from M, fall on the square A B C D. A B C D casts a shadow, and this shadow extends, and is found to be bigger the further off from M it is measured. Suppose, at the distance from M, M E, we put a square in the path of the shadow so as just to receive the shadow on it exactly. Let E F G H be this square. As is shown by the dotted lines, this square will be four times as large as the square A B C D. So when the distance is doubled, the shadow becomes four times as big.

Now those rays of light which fall on A B C D would, if they were not interrupted by it, spread out so as to exactly cover E F G H. Thus the same amount of light which falls on the small square A B C D would, if it were taken away, fall on the large square E F G H.

Now since the large square is four times the size of the small square, and the same amount of rays fall on it—for it only receives those which would fall on the small square—there must be at any part of it an illumination one-quarter as strong as there would be at any point on the small square.

Thus the small square, if placed in its position, would seem four times as bright as the large square.

Thus, when the distance from the origin of light is doubled, the amount of light received by a surface of given area becomes one-fourth of what it was at the less distance.

This is what is meant by varying inversely as the square of the distance. When the distance is doubled the intensity of the light is not simply less, but is halved and halved, and becomes one-quarter of its previous intensity.

But in the case of a particle resting on a thin sheet of metal, and shaking the metal—as, for instance, a metal plate can be made to shake by a violin bow—then this law would not hold.

Take the second figure. Let P be the particle, and let the influence proceeding from it fall on the rod A B lying on the plane, and let us suppose the rod to stop the vibrations from going beyond it, to receive them and to turn them back just as a body does the light. Then the “shadow” of A B would spread out away from P; and if another rod E F were put in at the distance P E, which is double of P A, then, to exactly fit the shadow, it would have to be double the length of A B; and the vibrations which fell on A B would exactly fall on E F. Now since E F is twice as long as A B, the vibrations which fall on any part of it will be one-half as intense as the vibrations which fall on a portion of matter of the same size lying where A B lies.

Thus in a plane the influence or force sent out by any particle would diminish as the distance. It would not “vary inversely as the square of the distance,” but would “vary inversely as the distance.”

It seems to me that the subject of higher space is becoming felt as serious, and fraught with much that is of the deepest interest, not only as a scientific problem, but in other ways also.

It seems also that when we commence to feel the seriousness of any subject we partly lose our faculty of dealing with it. The intellect seems to be overweighted somehow, and clogged. Perhaps the suppositions we make seem to us of too great importance, and we are not willing enough to let them go, fearing to lose the thing itself if we lose our hold of the means by which we have first apprehended it.

But whatever may be the cause, it does seem undoubtedly the fact that the mind works more clearly and more freely on subjects which are of slight importance.

And I propose, that without ignoring the real importance of the subject about which we are treating, we should cast aside any tension from our minds, and look at it in a light and easy manner.

With this object in view let us contemplate a certain story which bears on our problem.

It is said that once in a certain region of Ireland there took place a curious contest. For in Kilkennythere were two cats so alike in size, vigour, determination, and prowess, that, fighting, they so clawed, scratched, bit, and finally devoured each other, that nothing was left of either of them save the tail.

Now, on reflecting on this story, it becomes obvious that it originated when looking-glasses were first imported into Ireland from Italy. For when an Irishman sees for the first time anything new, he always describes it in an unexpected and yet genial and interesting manner. Moreover, we all know what contentious fellows they are, and how all their thoughts run on fighting. And I think if we put this problem to ourselves, how by bringing in fighting to describe a looking-glass, we shall see that the story of the Kilkenny cats is the only possible solution. For consider evidently how it arose. Depositing his favourite shillaly in a corner, the massively-built Irishman, to whom the possession was a novelty, saw reflected in his looking-glass the image of his favourite cat. With a scrutinizing eye he compared the two. Point for point they were like. “Begorra if I know which of the two would win!” he ejaculates. The combat becomes real to him, and the story of the Kilkenny cats is made.

Now, to our more sober mind, it is obvious that two cats—two real material things—could not mutually annihilate each other to such an extent. But it is perfectly possible to make a model of the Kilkenny cats—to see them fight, and to mark the issue.

And I propose to symbolize or represent the Kilkenny cat by a twist. Take a pencil, and round it twist a strip of paper—a flat spill will do. Now, having fastened the ends on to the pencil by two pins, so that it will not untwist, hold the paper thus twisted on the pencil at right angles to the surface of a looking-glass: and in the looking-glass you will see its image. In Diagram I., M representsthe mirror, and on the left hand is shown the twist, on the right hand the image twist. Now take another pencil and another piece of paper, and make a model of what you see in the glass. You will be able to twist this second piece of paper in a spiral round this second pencil so that it is an exact copy of what you see in the glass. Now put the two pencils together end to end, as they would be if the first pencil were to approach the glass until it touched it, meeting its image: you have the real copy of the image instead of the image itself. Now pin together the two ends of the pieces of paper, which are near together, and you have your two Kilkenny cats ready for the fray. To make them fight (remember that the twists—not the paper itself, but the paper twisted—represent the cat), hold firmly and pull the other ends (the tail ends, so to speak), so as to let each twist exercise its nature on the other.

You will see that the two twists mutually annihilate each other. Without your unwrapping the paper the twists both go, and nothing is left of them.

Diagram I.

Now the image of the twist as a real thing was made by us. It did not exist in nature other than as a mere appearance.

But I want you to imagine this process of producing a real image as somehow existing. I want you to layaside for the present the question of how it could be done, and to conceive twists and image twists.

This is the mechanical conception I wish you to adopt—there are such things as twists. Suppose by some means to every twist there is produced its image twist. These two, the twist and its image, may exist separately; but suppose that whenever a twist is produced its image twist is also produced, and that these two when put together annihilate each other.

With this conception let us explore the domain of those actions which are called electrical.

When a glass rod is rubbed with silk it becomes excited, its state is different. It manifests many properties, such as that of attracting light bodies, giving off a glow of light, &c. The silk also with which it was rubbed manifests similar properties. It also attracts light bodies, appears to glow in the dark, &c.

And yet there is a difference between the state of excitement of the glass and of the silk. The electricity which is in them is of different kinds. And if the electricity of the silk and of the glass be brought together, all electrical effect disappears; they become glass and silk in an ordinary condition.

It may seem strange that, if this is so, they should become electrified when rubbed together. Yet this is the case, and must be taken as a fact. It seems to depend partly on the circumstance that glass and silk are not what is called conductors. In a conductor, if one part receives electricity, this electricity at once runs over the whole of the conductor, whether it be an inch long or many feet. And if any part of the conductor be touched by another conductor which is in contact with the earth, every trace of electricity leaves the conductor, flowing, as it were, freely out of it.

Now both glass and silk do not let the electricity runfrom them so easily. To discharge a glass rod it has practically to be touched in every part. Thus, when by the rubbing with silk electricity is produced on it, it is conceivable that this electricity should be kept to a certain extent, and not combined immediately with the electricity on the silk.

Besides, the same cause—the friction which produced the electricity on the glass, and the other kind of electricity on the silk—would probably prevent their combination as long as it was applied.

Now let us suppose that the electrical charge which the glass has consists in this.

Let us suppose that the particles of the glass on the surface of it are twisted, strained out of their natural position, and twisted.

Let us also suppose that the particles of the silk are twisted too, but let them have the image twist.

Now these two twists, the glass twist and the silk twist, its image, when brought together, will run down. In unwinding each other they will give off a certain amount of energy, which will manifest itself as a spark, make a crackling sound, and so on. But when they unwind each other there is no more tension of the particles.

This does not explain in the least why the glass particles should receive a twist in one direction, the silk particles a twist of the image kind.

But instead of inquiring into this, it is best to see if this supposition is in accordance with other known facts of electrical action; because, if it is not, we may dismiss it more easily than we could if we had to test it with regard to the very inaccessible question of why some bodies, when rubbed, get electrified in one way, others in another.

When the glass and silk are near together the twiston the glass and that on the silk are related to each other as twist and image twist, and there is no action on surrounding bodies from either of them, as they, so to speak, satisfy each other.

But when the glass rod and the silk are moved apart, and brought near other objects, then each of them calls up on those objects near which it is brought a twist of the kind which is the image of its own twist.

If the glass rod is brought near a mass of metal, which we will call a conductor, the following effect is observed:—The part of the conductor near the glass rod becomes charged with electricity of the silk kind; the part of the conductor away from the rod becomes charged with electricity of the glass kind.

Now let us bring into play the supposition which we made before.

Let us suppose that there is some process in nature which, when there is a twist, makes a real image of that twist come into being. If we assume this process, we see that, opposite to the silk, on whatever objects are near it, will be a twist of the glass kind, and opposite the rod will be a twist of the silk kind. That is to say, that on the conductor there will be a twist of the silk kind when the glass rod is brought near it.

But there is nothing to make the particles of the conductor twist as a whole. The glass rod is not supposed to touch the conductor—it is simply brought near it, and no actual communication takes place between them. No force is actually applied to it, nor electricity communicated to it. Hence, on the whole, the particles of the conductor will not be twisted. That is to say, since there is a twist of the glass kind on one end, there will be at the other end a twist of the image kind—that is, of the silk kind. And these two twists are like the two twists on the pencil—if allowed to run together theywill run each other out. So if the conductor were removed from the neighbourhood of the glass rod it would be found to be no different from what it was at first. It would not be “charged.”

Now this is what actually happens.

Thus we have, firstly, a glass rod with its twist; secondly, a mass of metal with two twists on it—one near the glass rod, and of the image kind; the other at the other end of the mass of metal, and related to the original twist in the following way. It is the image of its image.

Now it will be found by using a mirror that the image of the image of a twist is the twist itself.

Hence on the other end of the conductor there is a twist of the same kind as that on the glass rod.

And it is obvious that the rod, with its twist, is connected with the twist on the conductor nearest to it, and the twist on the other end of the conductor will, by the same arbitrary process which we have assumed as real, call up a twist, the image of itself, on any object near it.

If it is touched by the object with this contrary twist the two will run together, and the conductor will, if it is left free, have only one twist—the silk kind, which has come up opposite the rod.

If now the rod be moved away, the conductor will be twisted as a whole; that is, all the particles of which it is composed will be slightly twisted with a twist of the silk kind.

In this state it is said to be charged.

Thus the assumption which we have made, that there is some process in nature in virtue of which, opposite to any twist, its image twist is produced as a real thing—this assumption is in harmony with the laws of induction.

Instead of working with a glass rod it is more convenientto use a metal rod. Suppose we take a poker and attach a handle of sealing wax to its middle. See A B below. This will be easily imagined, and its two ends, the handle and the black end, will be easily retained in the mind.

If now electricity be communicated from the glass rod to the poker by touching the two together, what happens is this: The particles of the glass being twisted communicate their twist to the particles of the poker. The twist on the poker is of the same kind as the twist on the glass rod, and the amount of twisting which the glass particles had is divided between the glass rod and the poker. The use of the sealing-wax handle is to keep the twist from communicating itself to the body of the person holding it, and, through him, to the earth. It is found that certain bodies, “non-conductors,” will not communicate the twist and convey it along; whereas metallic bodies, and conductors generally, will communicate this twist at once to great distances.

We will suppose that a metallic body consists of particles so arranged together that it easily acts as a set of minute threads or chains of particles which will twist, each thread or chain twisting as a whole. Thus the conception which should be formed of a metallic body conducting electricity along it is this:—Conceive a bundle of very fine but very rigid wires, each wire twisting separately but with the same kind of twist as all the others, and each, as it twists, rotating amongst its fellow threads. If we have a metal rod we can twist it between the finger and thumb. This is not the kind of twist we suppose, but that each separate string of particles is thus twisted, so that each set twisting remains in the same part of the metal rod—but is turning round in its fixed position. This is a body conveying an electric current.If the current will not pass, the set of minute wires must be conceived as held at the far end, and given a twist, starting from the point where the electricity is communicated. Now if a conductor is thus charged and left, it is found that it retains its charge; to be discharged it must be touched with another conductor. Hence this twist of minute threads differs from a twist of a wire in that the threads cannot untwist of themselves unless other threads come into contact with them to which they can impart the twist. That this should be the case may depend on the fact that the twisting strings are strings of molecules, and the ends of them would thus be connected with other molecules with something of the same tenacity as that with which the strings themselves cohere together, and are unable to unlock themselves from these insulating or untwisting molecules.

Let us consider the state due to these twisting strings of particles.

Place two pennies lying on the table before you, and suppose them to be the sections in which two strings of a conductor are cut across, so that you are looking at two particles, represented by the pennies in the interior of a conductor; the strings, of which the pennies are sections, come up towards your eye. Now twist the two pennies each in the same direction—say that of the hands of a watch. From the outer edges you can take the motion off; the edges are moving in the same direction. But where the two pennies meet you will see that the edge of each is going in a contrary direction to the other. And if one penny tends to move an object in one way the other tends to move it in the contrary direction. Hence these motions tend to neutralize each other in the interior of a conducting wire.

Having now formed a conception of the state of theparticles in an electrified poker, suppose another poker likewise held by an insulating handle is brought near the first. Let the pokers be so arranged that the handles both point one way, the black ends another way, and let the second poker be in the same line as the first, with its handle towards the black end of the first.

Now the first poker is charged, it contains electricity, its particles are twisted. What effect will it have on the second poker?

It is found that the second poker undergoes a certain change, but when it is removed to a distance from the first poker all trace of this change disappears.

On the end nearest the first poker—on the handle—is found silk electricity; on the end furthest from the first poker—on the black end—is found glass electricity.

A BC D+ +- +

Let A B be one poker, the + representing the charge of glass electricity. Let C D represent the other poker, the - representing the induced silk electricity, the + the glass electricity in it.

Let A be the handle of the first, B its black end. Let C be the handle of the second, and D its black end. To explain this let us bring in our imaginary principle. Let us suppose that when a charged body is brought near an uncharged body, but is separated from it by some medium through which electricity cannot pass—let us suppose that by some agency the twist in the charged body calls up an image twist in the body opposite it. Thus, due to the twist in the first poker there will be an image twist in the handle part of the second poker.

But the strings of particles in the second poker are not twisted as a whole; they are twisted in such a way that if they are removed from the first poker, the twist, whatever it be, disappears.

Now this would obviously be effected if we supposethe same thing to go on in the second poker as took place between the first poker and the second. Let the twist in the handle end C of the second poker be accompanied by the production of an image twist in the black end D. And let us take this as a fair account of our observations. If a body, which as a whole does not undergo a twist, has one part of it twisted, then there will be the image twist in the other part of it. I say that the poker as a whole is not twisted, and all that this means is that if it be removed from the electrical influence it is found to be not charged; and the idea which we may form is this: the strings of particles are twisted like the two strips of paper round the pencil; they are twisted so that they will exactly unwind if left alone.

Now of course all these suppositions are merely provisional, and must be dismissed unless seen to be mechanically possible; but for the present we are trying to see if our assumption will fit in with facts. And our assumption is that there is in nature a power which amongst the molecules produces that as a real thing which in our larger mode of existence only occurs as a simulacrum and appearance. Our looking-glass images are not real, but we suppose that real images are produced amongst the molecules.[3]

We have seen that if we make a certain supposition as to the calling up of an image twist by a twist of molecular matter, then the main facts of electricity are capable of an explanation, which, involving merely the motion of ordinary matter, is far preferable to the idea of there being a mysterious fluid, and more in harmony with our present ideas of electricity.

And yet it is impossible to retain this supposition unless a clear mechanical explanation can be given ofhow a real image of itself can be called up by the twist which we suppose electricity to be.

We can by intelligent agency produce a twist which is the real image of a given twist. But it would be absurd to suppose amongst the molecules an agency which, acting with prescribed aim, gave in that domain those real simulacra, those evident images, those phantoms with which we in our larger world of masses are for ever mocked.

And yet it would be curious if such an hypothesis were to claim a recognized position in our mental apparatus with which we think about nature.

For in that molecular world, if we imagine it to ourselves, there would be a curious state.

If we consider a twist and its image, they are but the simplest and most rudimentary type of an organism. What holds good of a twist and its image twist would hold good of a more complicated arrangement also. If a bit of structure apparently very unlike a twist, and with manifold parts and differences in it—if such a structure were to meet its image structure, each of them would instantly unwind the other, and what was before a complex and compound whole, opposite to an image of itself, would at once be resolved into a string of formless particles. A flash, a blaze, and all would be over.

To realize what this would mean we must conceive that in our world there were to be for each man somewhere a counter-man, a presentment of himself, a real counterfeit, outwardly fashioned like himself, but with his right hand opposite his original’s right hand. Exactly like the image of the man in a mirror.

And then when the man and his counterfeit met, a sudden whirl, a blaze, a little steam, and the two human beings, having mutually unwound each other, leave nothing but a residuum of formless particles.

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