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SIR WILLIAM CROOKES ON PSYCHICAL RESEARCH.
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When and if spiritual beings make themselves visible
either to our bodily eyes or to our inward vision, their
object would be thwarted were they not to appear in a
recognizable form; so that their appearance would take the
shape of the body and clothing to which we have been
accustomed. Materiality, form, and space, I am constrained
to believe, are temporary conditions of our present
existence. It is difficult to conceive the idea of a
spiritual being having a body like ours, conditioned by
the exact gravitating force exerted by the earth, and with
organs which presuppose the need for food and necessity
for the removal of waste products. It is equally
difficult, hemmed in and bound round as we are by
materialistic ideas, to think of intelligence, thought,
and will existing without form or matter and untrammeled
by gravitation or space.
Men of science before now have had to face a similar
problem. In some speculations on the nature of matter,
Faraday1 expressed himself in language which,
mutatis mutandis, applies to my present surmises. This
earnest philosopher was speculating on the ultimate nature
of
1 "If we must
assume at all, as indeed in a branch of knowledge like the
present we can hardly help it, then the safest course
appears to be to assume as little as possible, and in that
respect the atoms of Boscovich appear to me to have a great
advantage over the more usual notion. His atoms are mere
centers of forces or powers, not particles of matter in
which the powers themselves reside.
"If in the ordinary view of atoms we call the particle of
matter away from the powers a, and the system of
powers or forces in and around it m, then in
Boscovich's theory a disappears, or is a mere mathematical
point, while in the usual notion it is a little
unchangeable, impenetrable piece of matter, and m is
an atmosphere of force grouped around it.
"To my mind, therefore, the a or nucleus vanishes,
and the substance consists of the powers, or m; and
indeed, what notion can we form of the nucleus independent
of its powers? All our perception and knowledge of the atom,
and even our fancy, is limited to ideas of its powers. What
thought remains on which to hang the imagination of an a
independent of the acknowledged forces?
"A mind just entering on the subject may consider it
difficult to think of the powers of matter independent of a
separate something to be called 'the matter;' but it is
certainly far more difficult, and indeed impossible, to
think of or imagine that matter independent of the powers.
Now, the powers WE) know and recognizing every phenomenon of
the creation, the abstract matter in none; why, then, assume
the existence of that of which we are ignorant, which we can
not conceive, and for which there is no philosophical
necessity?
"If an atom be conceived to be a center of power, that which
is ordinarily referred to under the term' shape' would be
now referred to the disposition and relative intensity of
the forces. * * * Nothing can be supposed of the disposition
of forces in and about a solid nucleus of matter which can
not be equally conceived with respect to a center.
"The view now stated of the constitution of matter would
seem to involve necessarily the conclusion that matter fills
all space. * * * In that view matter is not merely mutually
penetrable, but each atom extends, so to say, throughout the
whole of the solar system, yet always retaining its own
center of force."
(Faraday," On the nature of matter," Phil. Mag., 1844, Vol.
XXIV, p.136.) SM 99-13
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matter; and, thinking of the little, hard, impenetrable
atom of Lucretius, and the forces or forms of energy
appertaining to it, he felt himself impelled to reject the
idea of the existence of the nucleus altogether, and to
think only of the forces and forms of energy usually
associated therewith. He was led to the conclusion that
this view necessarily involved the surmise that the atoms
are not merely mutually penetrable, but that each atom, so
to say, extends throughout all space, yet always retaining
its own center of force.1 A view of the
constitution of matter which recommended itself to Faraday
as preferable to the one ordinarily held appears to me to
be exactly the view I endeavor to picture as the
constitution of spiritual beings. Centers of intellect,
will, energy, and power, each mutually penetrable, while
at the same time permeating what we call space, but each
center retaining its own individuality, persistence of
self, and memory. Whether these intelligent centers of the
various spiritual forces which in their aggregate go to
make up man's character or karma are also associated in
any way with the forms of energy which, centered, form the
material atom-whether these spiritual entities are
material, not in the crude, gross sense of Lucretius, but
material as sublimated through the piercing intellect of
Faraday-is one of those mysteries which to us mortals will
perhaps ever remain an unsolved problem. My next
speculation is more difficult, and is addressed to those
who not only take too terrestrial a view, but who deny the
plausibility-nay, the possibility-of the existence of an
unseen world at all. I reply we are demonstrably standing
on the brink, at any rate, of one unseen world. I do not
here speak of a spiritual or immaterial world. I speak of
the world of the infinitely little, which must be still
called a material world, although matter as therein
existing or perceptible is something which our limited
faculties do not enable us to conceive. It is the world- I
do not say of molecular forces as opposed to molar, but of
forces whose action lies mainly outside the limit of human
perception, as opposed to forces evident to the gross
perception of human organisms. I hardly know how to make
clear to myself or to you the difference in the apparent
laws of the universe which would follow upon a mere
difference of bulk in the observer. Such an observer I
must needs imagine as best I can. I shall not attempt to
rival the vividness of the great satirist who, from a
postulated difference of size far less considerable,
deduced in Gulliver's Travels the absurdity, and the mere
relativity, of so much in human morals; politics, society.
But I shall take courage from the example of my
predecessor in this chair, Prof. William James, of
Harvard, from whom later I shall cite a most striking
parable of precisely the type I seek. You must permit me,
then, an homunculus on whom to hang my
1
I may say, in passing, that the modern vortex atom also
fulfills these conditions.
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speculation.1
I can not place him actually amid the interplay of
molecules, for lack of power to imagine his environment; but
I shall make him of such microscopic size that molecular
forces which in common life we hardly notice-such as surface
tension, capillarity, the Brownian movements-become for him
so conspicuous and dominant that he can hardly believe, let
us say, in the universality of gravitation, which we may
suppose to have been revealed to him by ourselves, his
creators. Let us place him on a cabbage leaf and let him
start for himself. The area of the cabbage leaf appears to
him as a boundless plain many square miles in extent. To
this minimized creature the leaf is studded with huge
glittering transparent globes, resting motionless on the
surface of the leaf, each globe vastly exceeding in height
the towering pyramids. Each of these spheres appears to emit
from one of its sides a dazzling light. Urged by curiosity
he approaches and touches one of the orbs. It resists
pressure like an india-rubber ball, until accidentally he
fractures the surface, when suddenly he feels himself seized
and whirled and brought somewhere to an equilibrium, where
he remain suspended in the surface of the sphere utterly
unable to extricate himself. In the course of an hour or two
he finds the globe diminishing, and ultimately it
disappears, leaving him at liberty to pursue his travels.
Quitting the cabbage leaf, he strays over the surface of the
soil, finding it exceeding rocky and mountainous, until he
sees before him a broad surface akin to the kind of matter
which formed the globes on the cabbage leaf. Instead,
however, of rising upward from its support, it now slopes
downward in a vast curve from the brink, and ultimately
becomes apparently level, though, as this is at a
considerable distance from the shore, he can not be
absolutely certain. Let us now suppose that he holds in his
hand a vessel bearing the same proportion to his minimized
frame that a pint measure does to that of a man as he is,
and that by adroit manipulation he contrives to fill it with
water. If he inverts the vessel he finds that the liquid
will not flow and can only be dislodged by violent shocks.
Wearied by his exertions to empty the vessel of water, he
sits on the shore and idly amuses himself by throwing stones
and other objects into the water. As a rule the stones and
other wet bodies sink, although when dry they obstinately
refuse to go to the bottom, but float on the surface. He
tries other substances. A rod of polished steel, a silver
pencil case, some platinum wire, and a steel pen, objects
two or three times the density of the stones, refuse to sink
at all, and float on the surface like so many bits of cork.
Nay, if he and his friends manage to throw into the water
one of those enormous steel bars which we call needles,
1
I need hardly say that in this fanciful sketch, composed
only for an illustrative purpose, all kinds of problems (as
of the homunculus's own structure and powers) are left
untouched, and various points which would really need to be
mathematically worked out are left intentionally vague.
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this also
makes a sort of concave trough for itself on the surface and
floats tranquilly. After these and a few more observations
he theorizes on the properties of water and of liquids in
general. Will he come to the conclusion that liquids seek
their own level, that their surfaces when at rest are
horizontal, and that solids when placed in a liquid sink or
float according to their higher or lower specific gravity ??
No; he will feel justified in inferring that liquids at rest
assume spherical, or at least curvilinear forms, whether
convex or concave, depending upon circumstances not easily
ascertained; that they can not be poured from one vessel to
another and resist the force of gravitation, which is
consequently not universal, and that such bodies as he can
manipulate generally refuse to sink in liquids, whether
their specific gravity be high or low. From the behavior of
a body placed in contact with a dewdrop he will even derive
plausible reasons for doubting the inertia of matter.
Already he has been somewhat puzzled by the constant and
capricious bombardment of cumbrous objects like portmanteaus
flying in the air; for the gay motes that people the
sunbeams will dance somewhat unpleasantly for it microscopic
homunculus who can never tell where they are coming. Nay,
what he has understood to be the difficulty experienced by
living creatures in rising from the earth, except with
wings, will soon seem absurdly exaggerated; for he will
discern a terrific creature, a behemoth "in plated mail,"
leaping through the skies in frenzied search for prey, and
for the first time due homage will be rendered to the
majesty of the common flea.
Perturbed by doubts, he will gaze at night into some
absolutely tranquil pool. There, with no wind to ruffle, nor
access of heat, to cause currents or change surface tension,
he perceives small inanimate objects immersed and still. But
are they still??? No. One of them moves; another is moving.
Gradually it is borne in upon him that whenever any object
is small enough it is always in motion. Perhaps our
homunculus might be better able than we are to explain these
so-called Brownian movements; or the guess might be forced
upon him that he who sees this sight is getting' dim
glimpses of the ultimate structure of matter, and that these
movements are residual, the result of the inward molecular
turmoil which has not canceled itself out into nullity, as
it must needs do in aggregations of matter of more than the
smallest microscopic dimensions.
Things still more tormentingly perplexing our homunculus
would doubtless encounter. And these changes in his
interpretation of phenomena would arise not from his
becoming aware of any forces hitherto overlooked, still less
from the disappearance of laws now recognized, but simply
from the fact that his supposed decrease in bodily size
brings capillarity, surface tension, etc., into a relative
prominence they do not now possess. To full-grown rational
beings the effects of these
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forces rank
among residual phenomena, which attract attention only when
science has made a certain progress. To homunculi such as we
have imagined the same effects would be of capital
Importance, and would be rightly interpreted not as
something supplementary to those of general gravitation, but
as due to an independent and possibly antagonistic force.
The physics of these homunculi would differ most remarkably
from our own. In the study of heat they would encounter
difficulties probably insuperable. In this branch of
physical investigation little can be done unless we have the
power at pleasure of raising and lowering the temperature of
bodies. This requires the command of fire. Actual man, in a
rudimentary state of civilization, can heat and ignite
certain kinds of matter by friction, percussion,
concentrating the sun's rays, etc.; but before these
operations produce actual fire they must be performed upon a
considerable mass of matter, otherwise the heat is conducted
or radiated away as rapidly as produced and the point of
ignition seldom reached.
Nor could it be otherwise with the chemistry of the little
people, if, indeed, such a science be conceived as at all
possible for them.
It can scarcely be denied that the fundamental phenomena
which first led mankind into chemical inquiries are those of
combustion. But, as we have just seen, minimized beings
would be unable to produce fire at will, except by certain
chemical reactions, and would have little opportunity of
examining its nature. They might occasionally witness forest
fires, volcanic eruptions, etc.; but such grand and
catastrophic phenomena, though serving to reveal to our
supposed Lilliputians the existence of combustion, would be
ill suited for quiet investigation into its conditions and
products. Moreover, considering the impossibility they would
experience of pouring water from one test tube to another,
the ordinary operations of analytical chemistry and of all
manipulations depending on the use of the pneumatic trough
would remain forever a sealed book.
Let us for a moment go to the opposite extreme and consider
how Nature would present itself to human beings of enormous
magnitude. Their difficulties and misconstructions would be
of an opposite nature to those experienced by pigmies.
Capillary attraction and the cohesion of liquids, surface
tension, and the curvature of liquid surfaces near their
boundary, the dewdrop and the behavior of minute bodies on a
globule of water, the flotation of metals on the surface of
water, and many other familiar phenomena, would be either
ignored or unknown. The homunculus able to communicate but a
small momentum would find all objects much harder than they
appear to us, while to a race of colossals granite rocks
would be but a feeble impediment.
There would be another most remarkable difference between
such enormous beings and ourselves.
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If we stoop and take up a pinch of earth between fingers and
thumb, moving those members, say, through the space of a few
inches in a second of time, we experience nothing
remarkable. The earth offers a little resistance, more or
less, according to its greater or less tenacity, but no
other perceptible reaction follows.
Let us suppose the same action performed by a gigantic
being, able to move finger (and thumb in a second's space
through some miles of soil in the same lapse of time, and he
would experience a very decided reaction. The mass of sand,
earth, stones, and the like, hurled together , in such
quantities and at such speed, would become intensely hot.
Just as the homunculus would fail to bring about ignition
when he desired, so the colossus could scarcely move without
causing the liberation of a highly inconvenient degree of
heat, literally making every- thing too hot to hold. He
would naturally ascribe to granite rocks and the other
constituents of the earth's surface such properties as we
attribute to phosphorus-of combustion on being a little
roughly handled.
Need I do more than point the obvious lesson? If a possible-
nay, reasonable-variation in only one of the forces
conditioning the human race, that of gravitation, could so
modify our outward form, appearance, and proportions as to
male us to all intents and purposes a different race of
beings; if mere differences of size can cause some of the
most simple facts in chemistry and physics to take so widely
different a guise; if beings microscopically small and
prodigiously large would simply as such be subject to the
hallucinations I have pointed out, and to others I might
enlarge upon, is it not possible that we, in turn, though
occupying, as it seems to us, the golden mean, may also by
the mere virtue of our size and weight fall into
misinterpretations of phenomena from which we should escape
were we or the globe we inhabit either larger or smaller,
heavier or lighter? May not our' boasted knowledge be simply
conditioned by accidental environments, and thus be liable
to a large element of subjectivity hitherto unsuspected and
scarcely possible to eliminate?
Here I will introduce Professor James's speculation, to
which I have already alluded. It deals with a possible
alteration of the time scale due to a difference in rapidity
of sensation on the part of a being presumably on a larger
scale than ourselves:
"We have every reason to think that creatures may
possibly differ enormously in the amounts of duration
which they intuitively feel, and in the fineness of the
events that may fill it. V on Baer has indulged in some
interesting computations of the effect of such differences
in changing the aspect of nature. Suppose we were able,
within the length of a second, to note distinctly 10,000
events, instead of barely 10, as now; if our life were
then destined to hold the same number of impressions, it
might be 1,000 times as short. 'We should live less than a
month, and personally know nothing of the change of
seasons. |
