VITALIZED DARKNESS.--THE NARROWS IN SCIENCE.
"In studying any branch of science men begin and end with an unknown.
The chemist accepts as data such conditions of matter as he finds about
him, and connects ponderable matter with the displays of energy that
have impressed his senses, building therefrom a span of theoretical
science, but he can not formulate as yet an explanation regarding the
origin or the end of either mind, matter, or energy. The piers
supporting his fabric stand in a profound invisible gulf, into which
even his imagination can not look to form a theory concerning basic
formations--corner-stones.
"The geologist, in a like manner, grasps feebly the lessons left in the
superficial fragments of earth strata, impressions that remain to bear
imperfect record of a few of the disturbances that have affected the
earth's crust, and he endeavors to formulate a story of the world's
life, but he is neither able to antedate the records shown by the meager
testimony at his command, scraps of a leaf out of God's great book of
history, nor to anticipate coming events. The birth, as well as the
death, of this planet is beyond his page.
"The astronomer directs his telescope to the heavens, records the
position of the planets, and hopes to discover the influences worlds
exert upon one another. He explores space to obtain data to enable him
to delineate a map of the visible solar universe, but the instruments he
has at command are so imperfect, and mind is so feeble that, like
mockery seems his attempt to study behind the facts connected with the
motions and conditions of the nearest heavenly bodies, and he can not
offer an explanation of the beginning or cessation of their movements.
He can neither account for their existence, nor foretell their end."
"Are you not mistaken?" I interrupted; "does not the astronomer foretell
eclipses, and calculate the orbits of the planets, and has he not
verified predictions concerning their several motions?"
"Yes; but this is simply a study of passing events. The astronomer is no
more capable of grasping an idea that reaches into an explanation of the
origin of motion, than the chemist or physicist, from exact scientific
data, can account for the creation of matter. Give him any amount of
material at rest, and he can not conceive of any method by which motion
can disturb any part of it, unless such motion be mass motion
communicated from without, or molecular motion, already existing within.
He accounts for the phases of present motion in heavenly bodies, not for
the primal cause of the actual movements or intrinsic properties they
possess. He can neither originate a theory that will permit of motion
creating itself, and imparting itself to quiescent matter, nor imagine
how an atom of quiescent matter can be moved, unless motion from without
be communicated thereto. The astronomer, I assert, can neither from any
data at his command postulate nor prove the beginning nor the end of the
reverberating motion that exists in his solar system, which is itself
the fragment of a system that is circulating and revolving in and about
itself, and in which, since the birth of man, the universe he knows has
not passed the first milestone in the road that universe is traveling in
space immensity.
"The mathematician starts a line from an imaginary point that he informs
us exists theoretically without occupying any space, which is a
contradiction of terms according to his human acceptation of knowledge
derived from scientific experiment, if science is based on verified
facts. He assumes that straight lines exist, which is a necessity for
his calculation; but such a line he has never made. Even the beam of
sunshine, radiating through a clear atmosphere or a cloud bank, widens
and contracts again as it progresses through the various mediums of air
and vapor currents, and if it is ever spreading and deflecting can it be
straight? He begins his study in the unknown, it ends with the
unknowable.
"The biologist can conceive of no rational, scientific beginning to life
of plant or animal, and men of science must admit the fact. Whenever we
turn our attention to nature's laws and nature's substance, we find man
surrounded by the infinity that obscures the origin and covers the
end. But perseverance, study of nature's forces, and comparison of the
past with the present, will yet clarify human knowledge and make plain
much of this seemingly mysterious, but never will man reach the
beginning or the end. The course of human education, to this day, has
been mostly materialistic, although, together with the study of matter,
there has been more or less attention given to its moving spirit. Newton
was the dividing light in scientific thought; he stepped between the
reasonings of the past and the provings of the present, and introduced
problems that gave birth to a new scientific tendency, a change from the
study of matter from the material side to that of force and matter, but
his thought has since been carried out in a mode too realistic by far.
The study of material bodies has given way, it is true, in a few cases
to the study of the spirit of matter, and evolution is beginning to
teach men that matter is crude. As a result, thought will in its
sequence yet show that modifications of energy expression are paramount.
This work is not lost, however, for the consideration of the nature of
sensible material, is preliminary and necessary to progression (as the
life of the savage prepares the way for that of the cultivated student),
and is a meager and primitive child's effort, compared with the richness
of the study in unseen energy expressions that are linked with matter,
of which men will yet learn."
"I comprehend some of this," I replied; "but I am neither prepared to
assent to nor dissent from your conclusions, and my mind is not clear as
to whether your logic is good or bad. I am more ready to speak plainly
about my own peculiar situation than to become absorbed in abstruse
arguments in science, and I marvel more at the soft light that is here
surrounding us than at the metaphysical reasoning in which you indulge."
"The child ignorant of letters wonders at the resources of those who can
spell and read, and, in like manner, many obscure natural phenomena are
marvelous to man only because of his ignorance. You do not comprehend
the fact that sunlight is simply a matter-bred expression, an outburst
of interrupted energy, and that the modification this energy undergoes
makes it visible or sensible to man. What, think you, becomes of the
flood of light energy that unceasingly flows from the sun? For ages,
for an eternity, it has bathed this earth and seemingly streamed into
space, and space it would seem must have long since have been filled
with it, if, as men believe, space contains energy of any description.
Man may say the earth casts the amount intercepted by it back into
space, and yet does not your science teach that the great bulk of the
earth is an absorber, and a poor radiator of light and heat? What think
you, I repeat, becomes of the torrent of light and heat and other forces
that radiate from the sun, the flood that strikes the earth? It
disappears, and, in the economy of nature, is not replaced by any known
force or any known motion of matter. Think you that earth substance
really presents an obstacle to the passage of the sun's energy? Is it
not probable that most of this light producing essence, as a subtle
fluid, passes through the surface of the earth and into its interior, as
light does through space, and returns thence to the sun again, in a
condition not discernible by man?" He grasped my arm and squeezed it as
though to emphasize the words to follow. "You have used the term
sunshine freely; tell me what is sunshine? Ah! you do not reply; well,
what evidence have you to show that sunshine (heat and light) is not
earth-bred, a condition that exists locally only, the result of contact
between matter and some unknown force expression? What reason have you
for accepting that, to other forms unknown and yet transparent to this
energy, your sunshine may not be as intangible as the ether of space is
to man? What reason have you to believe that a force torrent is not
circulating to and from the sun and earth, inappreciable to man,
excepting the mere trace of this force which, modified by contact action
with matter appears as heat, light, and other force expressions? How can
I, if this is true, in consideration of your ignorance, enter into
details explanatory of the action that takes place between matter and a
portion of this force, whereby in the earth, first at the surface,
darkness is produced, and then deeper down an earth light that man can
perceive by the sense of sight, as you now realize? I will only say that
this luminous appearance about us is produced by a natural law, whereby
the flood of energy, invisible to man, a something clothed now under the
name of darkness, after streaming into the crust substance of the earth,
is at this depth, revivified, and then is made apparent to mortal eye,
to be modified again as it emerges from the opposite earth crust, but
not annihilated. For my vision, however, this central light is not a
necessity; my physical and mental development is such that the energy of
darkness is communicable; I can respond to its touches on my nerves, and
hence I can guide you in this dark cavern. I am all eye."
"Ah!" I exclaimed, "that reminds me of a remark made by my former guide
who, referring to the instinct of animals, spoke of that as a natural
power undeveloped in man. Is it true that by mental cultivation a new
sense can be evolved whereby darkness may become as light?"
"Yes; that which you call light is a form of sensible energy to which
the faculties of animals who live on the surface of the earth have
become adapted, through their organs of sight. The sun's energy is
modified when it strikes the surface of the earth; part is reflected,
but most of it passes onward into the earth's substance, in an altered
or disturbed condition. Animal organisms within the earth must possess a
peculiar development to utilize it under its new form, but such a sense
is really possessed in a degree by some creatures known to men. There is
consciousness behind consciousness; there are grades and depths of
consciousness. Earth worms, and some fishes and reptiles in underground
streams (lower organizations, men call them) do not use the organ of
sight, but recognize objects, seek their food, and flee from their
enemies."
"They have no eyes," I exclaimed, forgetting that I spoke to an eyeless
being; "how can they see?"
"You should reflect that man can not offer a satisfactory explanation of
the fact that he can see with his eyes. In one respect, these so-called
lower creatures are higher in the scale of life than man is, for they
see (appreciate) without eyes. The surfaces of their bodies really are
sources of perception, and seats of consciousness. Man must yet learn to
see with his skin, taste with his fingers, and hear with the surface of
his body. The dissected nerve, or the pupil of man's eye, offers to the
physiologist no explanation of its intrinsic power. Is not man
unfortunate in having to risk so much on so frail an organ? The
physiologist can not tell why or how the nerve of the tongue can
distinguish between bitter and sweet, or convey any impression of
taste, or why the nerve of the ear communicates sound, or the nerve of
the eye communicates the impression of sight. There is an impassable
barrier behind all forms of nerve impressions, that neither the
microscope nor other methods of investigation can help the reasoning
senses of man to remove. The void that separates the pulp of the
material nerve from consciousness is broader than the solar universe,
for even from the most distant known star we can imagine the
never-ending flight of a ray of light, that has once started on its
travels into space. Can any man outline the bridge that connects the
intellect with nerve or brain, mind, or with any form of matter? The
fact that the surface of the bodies of some animals is capable of
performing the same functions for these animals that the eye of man
performs for him, is not more mysterious than is the function of that
eye itself. The term darkness is an expression used to denote the fact
that to the brain which governs the eye of man, what man calls the
absence of light, is unrecognizable. If men were more magnanimous and
less egotistical, they would open their minds to the fact that some
animals really possess certain senses that are better developed than
they are in man. The teachers of men too often tell the little they know
and neglect the great unseen. The cat tribe, some night birds, and many
reptiles can see better in darkness than in daylight. Let man compare
with the nerve expanse of his own eye that of the highly developed eye
of any such creature, and he will understand that the difference is one
of brain or intellect, and not altogether one of optical vision surface.
When men are able to explain how light can affect the nerves of their
own eyes and produce such an effect on distant brain tissues as to bring
to his senses objects that he is not touching, he may be able to explain
how the energy in darkness can affect the nerve of the eye in the owl
and impress vision on the brain of that creature. Should not man's
inferior sense of light lead him to question if, instead of deficient
visual power, there be not a deficiency of the brain capacity of man?
Instead of accepting that the eye of man is incapable of receiving the
impression of night energy, and making no endeavor to improve himself in
the direction of his imperfection, man should reflect whether or not his
brain may, by proper cultivation or artificial stimulus, be yet
developed so as to receive yet deeper nerve impressions, thereby
changing darkness into daylight. Until man can explain the modus
operandi of the senses he now possesses, he can not consistently
question the existence of a different sight power in other beings, and
unquestioned existing conditions should lead him to hope for a yet
higher development in himself."
"This dissertation is interesting, very," I said. "Although inclined
toward agnosticism, my ideas of a possible future in consciousness that
lies before mankind are broadened. I therefore accept your reasoning,
perhaps because I can not refute it, neither do I wish to do so. And now
I ask again, can not you explain to me how darkness, as deep as that of
midnight, has been revivified so as to bring this great cavern to my
view?"
"That may be made plain at a future time," he answered; "let us proceed
with our journey."
We passed through a dry, well ventilated apartment. Stalactite
formations still existed, indicative of former periods of water
drippings, but as we journeyed onward I saw no evidence of present
percolations, and the developing and erosive agencies that had worked in
ages past must long ago have been suspended. The floor was of solid
stone, entirely free from loose earth and fallen rocky fragments. It was
smooth upon the surface, but generally disposed in gentle undulations.
The peculiar, soft, radiant light to which my guide referred as
"vitalized darkness" or "revivified sunshine," pervaded all the space
about me, but I could not by its agency distinguish the sides of the
vast cavern. The brightness was of a species that while it brought into
distinctness objects that were near at hand, lost its unfolding power or
vigor a short distance beyond. I would compare the effect to that of a
bright light shining through a dense fog, were it not that the medium
about us was transparent--not milky. The light shrunk into nothingness.
It passed from existence behind and about me as if it were annihilated,
without wasting away in the opalescent appearance once familiar as that
of a spreading fog. Moreover, it seemed to detail such objects as were
within the compass of a certain area close about me, but to lose in
intensity beyond. The buttons on my coat appeared as distinct as they
ever did when I stood in the sunlight, and fully one-half larger than I
formerly knew them to be. The corrugations on the palms of my hands
stood out in bold serpentine relief that I observed clearly when I held
my hands near my eye, my fingers appeared clumsy, and all parts of my
person were magnified in proportion. The region at the limits of my
range of perception reminded me of nothingness, but not of darkness. A
circle of obliteration defined the border of the luminous belt which
advanced as we proceeded, and closed in behind us. This line, or rather
zone of demarkation, that separated the seen from the unseen, appeared
to be about two hundred feet away, but it might have been more or less,
as I had no method of measuring distances.
[Illustration: "I WAS IN A FOREST OF COLOSSAL FUNGI."]