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 Kilkenny there 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 represents the 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.

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 lay aside 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 run from 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 twist on 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 they will 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 convenient to 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 the particles 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 suppose the 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 of how 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.