The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 2 Chapter 14: Part 14

idea of death afflict you? _V._ [_Very quickly_.] No—no! _P._ Are you pleased with the prospect? _V._ If I were awake I should like to die, but now it is no matter. The mesmeric condition is so near death as to content me. _P._ I wish you would explain yourself, Mr. Vankirk. _V._ I am willing to do so, but it requires more effort than I feel able to make. You do not question me properly. _P._ What then shall I ask? _V._ You must begin at the beginning. _P._ The beginning! But where is the beginning? _V._ You know that the beginning is GOD. [_This was said in a low, fluctuating tone, and with every sign of the most profound veneration_.] _P._ What then, is God? _V._ [_Hesitating for many minutes._] I cannot tell. _P._ Is not God spirit? _V._ While I was awake I knew what you meant by “spirit,” but now it seems only a word—such, for instance, as truth, beauty—a quality, I mean. _P._ Is not God immaterial? _V._ There is no immateriality—it is a mere word. That which is not matter, is not at all—unless qualities are things. _P._ Is God, then, material? _V._ No. [_This reply startled me very much._] _P._ What, then, is he? _V._ [_After a long pause, and mutteringly._] I see—but it is a thing difficult to tell. [_Another long pause._] He is not spirit, for he exists. Nor is he matter, as _you understand it_. But there are _gradations_ of matter of which man knows nothing; the grosser impelling the finer, the finer pervading the grosser. The atmosphere, for example, impels the electric principle, while the electric principle permeates the atmosphere. These gradations of matter increase in rarity or fineness, until we arrive at a matter _unparticled_—without particles—indivisible—_one;_ and here the law of impulsion and permeation is modified. The ultimate, or unparticled matter, not only permeates all things but impels all things; and thus _is_ all things within itself. This matter is God. What men attempt to embody in the word “thought,” is this matter in motion. _P._ The metaphysicians maintain that all action is reducible to motion and thinking, and that the latter is the origin of the former. _V._ Yes; and I now see the confusion of idea. Motion is the action of _mind_, not of _thinking_. The unparticled matter, or God, in quiescence, is (as nearly as we can conceive it) what men call mind. And the power of self-movement (equivalent in effect to human volition) is, in the unparticled matter, the result of its unity and omniprevalence; _how_ I know not, and now clearly see that I shall never know. But the unparticled matter, set in motion by a law, or quality, existing within itself, is thinking. _P._ Can you give me no more precise idea of what you term the unparticled matter? _V._ The matters of which man is cognizant escape the senses in gradation. We have, for example, a metal, a piece of wood, a drop of water, the atmosphere, a gas, caloric, electricity, the luminiferous ether. Now we call all these things matter, and embrace all matter in one general definition; but in spite of this, there can be no two ideas more essentially distinct than that which we attach to a metal, and that which we attach to the luminiferous ether. When we reach the latter, we feel an almost irresistible inclination to class it with spirit, or with nihility. The only consideration which restrains us is our conception of its atomic constitution; and here, even, we have to seek aid from our notion of an atom, as something possessing in infinite minuteness, solidity, palpability, weight. Destroy the idea of the atomic constitution and we should no longer be able to regard the ether as an entity, or at least as matter. For want of a better word we might term it spirit. Take, now, a step beyond the luminiferous ether—conceive a matter as much more rare than the ether, as this ether is more rare than the metal, and we arrive at once (in spite of all the school dogmas) at a unique mass—an unparticled matter. For although we may admit infinite littleness in the atoms themselves, the infinitude of littleness in the spaces between them is an absurdity. There will be a point—there will be a degree of rarity, at which, if the atoms are sufficiently numerous, the interspaces must vanish, and the mass absolutely coalesce. But the consideration of the atomic constitution being now taken away, the nature of the mass inevitably glides into what we conceive of spirit. It is clear, however, that it is as fully matter as before. The truth is, it is impossible to conceive spirit, since it is impossible to imagine what is not. When we flatter ourselves that we have formed its conception, we have merely deceived our understanding by the consideration of infinitely rarified matter. _P._ There seems to me an insurmountable objection to the idea of absolute coalescence;—and that is the very slight resistance experienced by the heavenly bodies in their revolutions through space—a resistance now ascertained, it is true, to exist in _some_ degree, but which is, nevertheless, so slight as to have been quite overlooked by the sagacity even of Newton. We know that the resistance of bodies is, chiefly, in proportion to their density. Absolute coalescence is absolute density. Where there are no interspaces, there can be no yielding. An ether, absolutely dense, would put an infinitely more effectual stop to the progress of a star than would an ether of adamant or of iron. _V._ Your objection is answered with an ease which is nearly in the ratio of its apparent unanswerability.—As regards the progress of the star, it can make no difference whether the star passes through the ether _or the ether through it_. There is no astronomical error more unaccountable than that which reconciles the known retardation of the comets with the idea of their passage through an ether: for, however rare this ether be supposed, it would put a stop to all sidereal revolution in a very far briefer period than has been admitted by those astronomers who have endeavored to slur over a point which they found it impossible to comprehend. The retardation actually experienced is, on the other hand, about that which might be expected from the _friction_ of the ether in the instantaneous passage through the orb. In the one case, the retarding force is momentary and complete within itself—in the other it is endlessly accumulative. _P._ But in all this—in this identification of mere matter with God—is there nothing of irreverence? [_I was forced to repeat this question before the sleep-waker fully comprehended my meaning_.] _V._ Can you say _why_ matter should be less reverenced than mind? But you forget that the matter of which I speak is, in all respects, the very “mind” or “spirit” of the schools, so far as regards its high capacities, and is, moreover, the “matter” of these schools at the same time. God, with all the powers attributed to spirit, is but the perfection of matter. _P._ You assert, then, that the unparticled matter, in motion, is thought? _V._ In general, this motion is the universal thought of the universal mind. This thought creates. All created things are but the thoughts of God. _P._ You say, “in general.” _V._ Yes. The universal mind is God. For new individualities, _matter_ is necessary. _P._ But you now speak of “mind” and “matter” as do the metaphysicians. _V._ Yes—to avoid confusion. When I say “mind,” I mean the unparticled or ultimate matter; by “matter,” I intend all else. _P._ You were saying that “for new individualities matter is necessary.” _V._ Yes; for mind, existing unincorporate, is merely God. To create individual, thinking beings, it was necessary to incarnate portions of the divine mind. Thus man is individualized. Divested of corporate investiture, he were God. Now, the particular motion of the incarnated portions of the unparticled matter is the thought of man; as the motion of the whole is that of God. _P._ You say that divested of the body man will be God? _V._ [_After much hesitation._] I could not have said this; it is an absurdity. _P._ [_Referring to my notes._] You _did_ say that “divested of corporate investiture man were God.” _V._ And this is true. Man thus divested _would be_ God—would be unindividualized. But he can never be thus divested—at least never _will be_—else we must imagine an action of God returning upon itself—a purposeless and futile action. Man is a creature. Creatures are thoughts of God. It is the nature of thought to be irrevocable. _P._ I do not comprehend. You say that man will never put off the body? _V._ I say that he will never be bodiless. _P._ Explain. _V._ There are two bodies—the rudimental and the complete; corresponding with the two conditions of the worm and the butterfly. What we call “death,” is but the painful metamorphosis. Our present incarnation is progressive, preparatory, temporary. Our future is perfected, ultimate, immortal. The ultimate life is the full design. _P._ But of the worm’s metamorphosis we are palpably cognizant. _V._ _We_, certainly—but not the worm. The matter of which our rudimental body is composed, is within the ken of the organs of that body; or, more distinctly, our rudimental organs are adapted to the matter of which is formed the rudimental body; but not to that of which the ultimate is composed. The ultimate body thus escapes our rudimental senses, and we perceive only the shell which falls, in decaying, from the inner form; not that inner form itself; but this inner form, as well as the shell, is appreciable by those who have already acquired the ultimate life. _P._ You have often said that the mesmeric state very nearly resembles death. How is this? _V._ When I say that it resembles death, I mean that it resembles the ultimate life; for when I am entranced the senses of my rudimental life are in abeyance, and I perceive external things directly, without organs, through a medium which I shall employ in the ultimate, unorganized life. _P._ Unorganized? _V._ Yes; organs are contrivances by which the individual is brought into sensible relation with particular classes and forms of matter, to the exclusion of other classes and forms. The organs of man are adapted to his rudimental condition, and to that only; his ultimate condition, being unorganized, is of unlimited comprehension in all points but one—the nature of the volition of God—that is to say, the motion of the unparticled matter. You will have a distinct idea of the ultimate body by conceiving it to be entire brain. This it is _not_; but a