CHAPTER XXX.
LOOKING BACKWARD.--THE LIVING BRAIN.
The old man accompanied his word "come," as I have said, by rising fromhis chair, and then with a display of strength quite out of proportionto his age, he grasped my wrist and drew me toward the door. Realizingat once that he intended I should accompany him into the night, Iprotested, saying that I was quite unprepared.
"My hat, at least," I insisted, as he made no recognition of my firstdemur.
"Your hat is on your head," he replied.
This was true, although I am sure the hat had been previously hung on arack in a distant part of the room, and I am equally certain thatneither my companion nor myself had touched it. Leaving me no time forreflection, he opened the door, and drew me through the hall-way andinto the gloom. As though perfectly familiar with the city, he guided mefrom my cozy home, on the retired side street in which I resided,eastwardly into the busy thoroughfare, Western Row. Our course led usdown towards the river, past Ninth, Eighth, Seventh Streets. Now andthen a pedestrian stopped to gaze in surprise at the unique spectacle,the old man leading the young one, but none made any attempt to molestus. We passed on in silence, out of the busy part of the thoroughfareand into the shady part of the city, into the darkness below FifthStreet. Here the residences were poorer, and tenement-houses andfactories began to appear. We were now in a quarter of the city intowhich strangers seldom, if ever, penetrated after night, and in which Iwould not have cared to be found unprotected at any time after sunset,much less in such questionable company. I protested against theindiscretion; my leader made no reply, but drew me on past theflickering gas lights that now and then appeared at the intersection ofThird, Pearl, Second, and Water Streets, until at last we stood, indarkness, on the bank of the Ohio River.
Strange, the ferry-boat at that time of night only made a trip everythirty minutes, and yet it was at the landing as though by appointment.Fear began to possess me, and as my thoughts recur to that evening, Ican not understand how it was that I allowed myself to be drawn withoutcry or resistance from my secure home to the Ohio River, in suchcompanionship. I can account for the adventure only by the fact that Ihad deliberately challenged my companion to make the test he wasfulfilling, and that an innate consciousness of pride and justicecompelled me to permit him to employ his own methods. We crossed theriver without speaking, and rapidly ascending the levee we took ourcourse up Main Street into Covington. Still in the lead, my aged guide,without hesitation, went onward to the intersection of Main and PikeStreets; thence he turned to the right, and following the latterthoroughfare we passed the old tannery, that I recalled as a familiarlandmark, and then started up the hill. Onward we strode, past a hotelnamed "Niemeyer's," and soon were in the open country on the LexingtonPike, treading through the mud, diagonally up the hill back ofCovington. Then, at a sharp curve in the road where it rounded the pointof the hill, we left the highway, and struck down the hillside into aravine that bounded the lower side of the avenue. We had long since leftthe city lamps and sidewalks behind us, and now, when we left theroadway, were on the muddy pike at a considerable elevation upon thehillside and, looking backward, I beheld innumerable lights throughoutthe cities of Cincinnati, Covington, and the village of Newport,sparkling away in the distance behind and below us.
"Come," my companion said again, as I hesitated, repeating the only wordhe had uttered since telling his horrible story, "Come!"
Down the hill into the valley we plunged, and at last he opened the doorof an isolated log cabin, which we entered. He lighted a candle that hedrew from his pocket, and together we stood facing each other.
"Be seated," he said dryly.
And then I observed that the cold excuse for furniture in that desolateroom consisted of a single rude, hand-made chair with corn-shuck bottom.However, I did not need a second invitation, but sank exhausted anddisconsolate upon the welcome object.
My companion lost no time, but struck at once into the subject thatconcerned us, arguing as follows:
"One of the troubles with humanity is that of changing a thought fromthe old to a new channel; to grasp at one effort an entirely new idea isan impossibility. Men follow men in trains of thought expression, as inbodily form generations of men follow generations. A child born withthree legs is a freak of nature, a monstrosity, yet it sometimesappears. A man possessed of a new idea is an anomaly, a something thatmay not be impossible, but which has never appeared. It is almost asdifficult to conceive of a new idea as it is to create out of nothing anew material or an element. Neither thoughts nor things can be invented,both must be evolved out of a preexisting something which it necessarilyresembles. Every advanced idea that appears in the brain of man is theresult of a suggestion from without. Men have gone on and onceaselessly, with their minds bent in one direction, ever lookingoutwardly, never inwardly. It has not occurred to them to question atall in the direction of backward sight. Mind has been enabled to readthe impressions that are made in and on the substance of brainconvolutions, but at the same time has been and is insensible to theexistence of the convolutions themselves. It is as though we could readthe letters of the manuscript that bears them without having conceivedof a necessity for the existence of a printed surface, such as paper oranything outside the letters. Had anatomists never dissected a brain,the human family would to-day live in absolute ignorance of the natureof the substance that lies within the skull. Did you ever stop to thinkthat the mind can not now bring to the senses the configuration, ornature, of the substance in which mind exists? Its own house is unknown.This is in consequence of the fact that physical existence has alwaysdepended upon the study of external surroundings, and consequently thepower of internal sight lies undeveloped. It has never been deemednecessary for man to attempt to view the internal construction of hisbody, and hence the sense of feeling only advises him of that which lieswithin his own self. This sense is abstract, not descriptive. Normalorgans have no sensible existence. Thus an abnormal condition of anorgan creates the sensation of pain or pleasure, but discloses nothingconcerning the appearance or construction of the organ affected. Theperfect liver is as vacancy. The normal brain never throbs and aches.The quiescent arm presents no evidence to the mind concerning its shape,size, or color. Man can not count his fingers unless some outside objecttouches them, or they press successively against each other, or heperceives them by sight. The brain of man, the seat of knowledge, inwhich mind centers, is not perceptible through the senses. Does it notseem irrational, however, to believe that mind itself is not aware, orcould not be made cognizant, of the nature of its materialsurroundings?"
"I must confess that I have not given the subject a thought," I replied.
"As I predicted," he said. "It is a step toward a new idea, and simpleas it seems, now that the subject has been suggested, you must agreethat thousands of intelligent men have not been able to formulate thethought. The idea had never occurred to them. Even after our previousconversation concerning the possibility of showing you your own brain,you were powerless and could not conceive of the train of thought whichI started, and along which I shall now further direct your senses."
"The eye is so constituted that light produces an impression on anervous film in the rear of that organ, this film is named the retina,the impression being carried backward therefrom through a magma of nervefibers (the optic nerve), and reaching the brain, is recorded on thatorgan and thus affects the mind. Is it not rational to suppose itpossible for this sequence to be reversed? In other words, if the orderwere reversed could not the same set of nerves carry an impression frombehind to the retina, and picture thereon an image of the object whichlies anterior thereto, to be again, by reflex action, carried back tothe brain, thus bringing the brain substance itself to the view of themind, and thus impress the senses? To recapitulate: If the nervesensation, or force expression, should travel from the brain to theretina, instead of from an outward object, it will on the reverse of theretina produce the image of that which lies behind, an
d then if theoptic nerve carry the image back to the brain, the mind will bring tothe senses the appearance of the image depicted thereon."
"FACING THE OPEN WINDOW HE TURNED THE PUPILS OF HIS EYESUPWARD."]
"This is my first consideration of the subject," I replied.
"Exactly," he said; "you have passed through life looking at outsideobjects, and have been heedlessly ignorant of your own brain. You havenever made an exclamation of surprise at the statement that you reallysee a star that exists in the depths of space millions of miles beyondour solar system, and yet you became incredulous and scornful when itwas suggested that I could show you how you could see the configurationof your brain, an object with which the organ of sight is nearly incontact. How inconsistent."
"The chain of reasoning is certainly novel, and yet I can not think of amode by which I can reverse my method of sight and look backward," I nowrespectfully answered.
"It is very simple; all that is required is a counter excitation of thenerve, and we have with us to-night what any person who cares toconsider the subject can employ at any time, and thus behold an outlineof a part of his own brain. I will give you the lesson."
Placing himself before the sashless window of the cabin, which openingappeared as a black space pictured against the night, the sage took thecandle in his right hand, holding it so that the flame was just belowthe tip of the nose, and about six inches from his face. Then facing theopen window he turned the pupils of his eyes upward, seeming to fix hisgaze on the upper part of the open window space, and then he slowlymoved the candle transversely, backward and forward, across, in front ofhis face, keeping it in such position that the flickering flame made aparallel line with his eyes, and as just remarked, about six inches fromhis face, and just below the tip of his nose. Speaking deliberately, hesaid:
"Now, were I you, this movement would produce a counter irritation ofthe retina; a rhythm of the optic nerve would follow, a reflex action ofthe brain accompanying, and now a figure of part of the brain that restsagainst the skull in the back of my head would be pictured on theretina. I would see it plainly, apparently pictured or thrown across theopen space before me."
"Incredible!" I replied.
"Try for yourself," quietly said my guide.
Placing myself in the position designated, I repeated the maneuver, whenslowly a shadowy something seemed to be evolved out of the blank spacebefore me. It seemed to be as a gray veil, or like a corrugated sheet asthin as gauze, which as I gazed upon it and discovered its outline,became more apparent and real. Soon the convolutions assumed a moredecided form, the gray matter was visible, filled with venations, firstgray and then red, and as I became familiar with the sight, suddenly theconvolutions of a brain in all its exactness, with a network of redblood venations, burst into existence.[7]
[7] This experiment is not claimed as original. See Purkinje's Beitraege zur Kenntniss des Sehens in subjectiver Hinsicht (Prague, 1823 and 1825), whose conclusions to the effect that the shadow of the retina is seen, I-Am-The-Man ignores.--J. U. L.
"A BRAIN, A LIVING BRAIN, MY OWN BRAIN."]
I beheld a brain, a brain, a living brain, my own brain, and as anuncanny sensation possessed me I shudderingly stopped the motion of thecandle, and in an instant the shadowy figure disappeared.
"Have I won the wager?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Then," said my companion, "make no further investigations in thisdirection."
"But I wish to verify the experiment," I replied. "Although it is not apleasant test, I can not withstand the temptation to repeat it."
And again I moved the candle backward and forward, when the figure of mybrain sprung at once into existence.
"It is more vivid," I said; "I see it plainer, and more quickly thanbefore."
"Beware of the science of man, I repeat," he replied; "now, before youare deep in the toils, and can not foresee the end, beware of thescience of human biology. Remember the story recently related, that ofthe physician who was led to destruction by the alluring voice."
I made no reply, but stood with my face fixed, slowly moving the candlebackward and forward, gazing intently into the depths of my own brain.
After a time the old man removed the candle from my hand, and said: "Doyou accept the fact? Have I demonstrated the truth of the assertion?"
"Yes," I replied; "but tell me further, now that you have excited myinterest, have I seen and learned all that man can discover in thisdirection?"
"No; you have seen but a small portion of the brain convolutions, onlythose that lie directly back of the optic nerve. By systematic research,under proper conditions, every part of the living brain may become asplainly pictured as that which you have seen."
"And is that all that could be learned?" I asked.
"No," he continued. "Further development may enable men to picture thefigures engraved on the convolutions, and at last to read the thoughtsthat are engraved within the brains of others, and thus through materialinvestigation the observer will perceive the recorded thought of anotherperson. An instrument capable of searching and illuminating the retinacould be easily affixed to the eye of a criminal, after which, if themind of the person operated upon were stimulated by the suggestion of anoccurrence either remote or recent, the mind facility would excite thebrain, produce the record, and spread the circumstances as a picturebefore the observer. The brain would tell its own story, and theinvestigator could read the truth as recorded in the brain of the otherman. A criminal subjected to such an examination could not tell anuntruth, or equivocate; his very brain would present itself to theobserver."
"And you make this assertion, and then ask me to go no further into thesubject?"
"Yes; decidedly yes."
"Tell me, then, could you not have performed this experiment in my room,or in the dark cellar of my house?"
"Any one can repeat it with a candle in any room not otherwise lighted,by looking at a blackboard, a blank wall, or black space," he said.
I was indignant.
"Why have you treated me so inhumanly? Was there a necessity for thisjourney, these mysterious movements, this physical exertion? Look at themud with which I am covered, and consider the return trip which yet liesbefore me, and which must prove even more exhausting?"
"Ah," he said, "you overdraw. The lesson has been easily acquired.Science is not an easy road to travel. Those who propose to profitthereby must work circuitously, soil their hands and person, meetdiscouragements, and must expect hardships, reverses, abuse, anddiscomfort. Do not complain, but thank me for giving you the lessonwithout other tribulations that might have accompanied it. Besides,there was another object in my journey, an object that I have quietlyaccomplished, and which you may never know. Come, we must return."
He extinguished the light of the candle, and we departed together,trudging back through the mud and the night.[8]
[8] We must acquiesce in the explanation given for this seemingly uncalled-for journey, and yet feel that it was unnecessarily exacting.
Of that wearisome return trip I have nothing to say beyond the fact thatbefore reaching home my companion disappeared in the darkness of a sidestreet, and that the Cathedral chimes were playing for three o'clockA.M., as I passed the corner of Eighth Street and Western Row.
The next evening my visitor appeared as usual, and realizing hiscomplete victory, he made no reference to the occurrences of theprevious night. In his usual calm and deliberate manner he produced theroll of manuscript saying benignantly, and in a gentle tone:
"Do you recollect where I left off reading?"
"You had reached that point in your narrative," I answered, "at whichyour guide had replaced the boat on the surface of the lake."
And the mysterious being resumed his reading.
THE MANUSCRIPT CONTINUED.