CHAPTER X 



The Creatures of Darkness 



Once, I remember seeing in an art gallery a masterful painting 

 depicting the death of the philosopher and poet, Goethe. The 

 dying man was portrayed lying on a massive bed in a somber 

 room with paneled walls. Through the closely drawn shades 

 a fine pencil of golden sunlight was streaming, catching up the 

 dust beams, and focusing on the invahd's lined face. One hand 

 was outstretched, as if in supplication; the features wore an 

 agonized expression and the lips were half opened, as though 

 a word had just escaped. 



Tacked on the frame was a tiny gold plaque, such as is 

 universal in art galleries, giving the name of the artist, a few 

 pertinent facts about the work and in larger letters the title. 

 This was the expression— "Light, more light!" beheved to be 

 Goethe's last words, a cry interpreted to signify the yearning 

 of a great mind, slipping helplessly into oblivion, for greater 

 knowledge, larger understanding, for intellectual brightness 

 in the darkness of his time. 



It is a pretty story, and one that is worthy of the death of 

 a man such as Goethe, but it is more probable that the cry for 

 "Light, more light! " was really the agonized complaint of a very 

 human person whose optic nerves, paralyzed by the approach- 

 ing hand of death, no longer functioned and who was being 

 enveloped in an increasing world of darkness. 



A man is a creature of day and sunlight; in the dark, unless, 

 like the blind, he has developed special senses, he is helpless 

 and confused. The time of his activity is during the bright 

 hours; without candles, electric bulbs or the benefit of the moon, 



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