On Darkness

Anne here, pondering darkness. But first, a little story from my past. As a teacher, I took many kids away on camp. Many schools these days site their "camps" in warm, comfortable buildings, but some of the schools I worked at couldn't afford that, so we pitched a motley array of borrowed tents on the ground, under the sky. (The photo below was taken by my friend Fiona McArthur.)

Many of those kids had never been out in "the bush" as we call it here, generally meaning untamed country, the wilderness, often national parks, and early on, I discovered something that quite shocked me.

Having grown up in cities, and often on high-rise housing estates, the concept of the dark of night was completely unknown to the students. Wherever they went at home, there were security lights, and even where there weren't any (or they were broken), the general light pollution of the city ensured that they could still see, more or less.

Far from the city, camping out in "the bush" they were away from street lights, there was no light pollution and, if the moon was hidden by cloud, it was dark — completely, utterly dark. And for some of them, that was unexpected and quite frightening.

The first time I realized this was on a night hike, where torches (flashlights) were banned, because we hoped to observe the many nocturnal native animals around. But we hadn't gone far when the moon disappeared behind thick clouds, and the kids completely freaked out, clumped together and refused to move another step. 

The problem was, they had never been outside in complete darkness — didn't know "the dark of the night" was a literal description. There was blackness all around them and the night was filled with strange and alarming nocturnal sounds. There are no wolves or bears or big dangerous animals here. But shy, cute and fluffy little possums can make a very scary sound. (You can hear it here.)  (Not that we could hear anything else with the noise the kids made after they heard that.)  But it was a real eye-opener to me — and to them, of course.

These days we rarely experience total darkness. Even in a darkened bedroom, chances are various devices will be glowing faintly — a digital clock, a fan, a charging phone or reading device — lightening the darkness. And even without any devices present, if you're in a city, light pollution will dissipate the darkness.

But in the past, the dark of night was absolute and ever present. In rural districts, working people went to bed soon after sundown — perhaps staying up for a few hours, courtesy of a lantern or a few candles or rushlights — that's a rushlight on the left — or the fire, whichever they could afford. But a rural working day was generally from dawn to dusk. 

For many people a customary term for the fall of night was the "shutting-in", the time when shutters and doors were locked and barred, and watchdogs (canine and human, depending on the situation) were loosed. For most people the darkness was filled with dangers, both real and imaginary.

No wonder some ancient peoples worshipped the moon. And worried that the sun might not rise again in the morning.

In the city, after dark, danger lurked everywhere. Wealthy people hired men to carry lanterns and to protect them. And householders clubbed together to make their streets safer. In 1417, Sir Henry Barton, Lord Mayor of London, ordained "Lanthornes with lights to bee hanged out on the Winter evening betwixt Hallowtide (1st November) and Candlemassee." (2nd February)
Paris was first illuminated by an order issued in 1524, and, in the beginning of the 16th century, the inhabitants were ordered to keep lights burning in the windows of all houses that faced streets.

As artificial lighting became more common, the desire grew for it to be readily available to the public: partly because towns became much safer places after gas lamps were installed in the streets, reducing crime rates. (Of course, once gas lights were invented and gas lanterns installed in the street, it was the wealthier areas they lit first.) 

By 1819 nearly 290 miles of pipes had been laid in London, supplying 51,000 burners. 

And by 1859, gas lighting was to be found all over Britain and about a thousand gas works had sprung up to meet the demand for the new fuel. The brighter lighting which gas provided allowed people to read more easily and for longer. This helped to stimulate literacy and learning, speeding up the second Industrial Revolution.

I've barely touched on the topic — and have restricted it to European lighting, but the history is fascinating, and there's so much more to learn if you're interested. Try this book At Day's Close, by A. Roger Ekirch  

The sight of those iconic gas lamps is rather a romantic one, don't you think? The photo on the right was taken by my friend Keri Arthur here in a city park in Melbourne, a week ago. Electric, of course, but reminiscent of the old gas lamps.  (And yes, some of my friends are talented photographers, as well as writers.)

What about you? Were you frightened (or nervous) of the dark when you were a child? Are you still? Is it dark at night where you live, or does light pollution chase the darkness away? Have you ever experienced total darkness? (I did once when I was briefly shut into a 19th century gaol cell — I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. I can't imagine how the prisoners endured it.) 

Comments

[Quantum]

As a child I lived in the countryside and do remember walking along dark lanes at night. The imagination can run riot as a bat swoops nearby or a fox screams. Barely visible shapes in hedges also take on frightening forms. However I first experienced total darkness at college in a photographic dark room. We did experiments in pairs and my colleague was a girl. I was scared stiff of touching her accidentally and inappropriately! Also lack of vision can affect balance but utter darkness is indeed a strange experience. On the plus side it is an absolute delight to walk on the hills near my home on a starlit night. Way above the lights of villages. the moon and stars become incredibly beautiful and one can wonder at the vastness and meaning of it all. I can get quite philosophical on the hills at night!

Loved the possum sound.

[Lil Marek]

We lived in New York City when I was a child, and as everyone knows, it' the city that never sleeps. *G* But we spent summer in the country, and I loved the dark at night. It never seemed totally dark because there were all those stars. Millions of them. Rather than being frightening, I always thought of the darkness as a sort of protective blanket wrapper around me.

[Christina Courtenay]

Great post, Anne! I too loved the possum sound - no wonder those kids were frightened :-) Your friend's photos are amazing. I always wish I could take photos of the moon but have never succeeded. I love the dark and am lucky enough to live in a place where you can see all the stars at night. It's wonderful!

[Andrea Penrose]

Such a great post, Anne. I like find find darkness at night mostly wonderful. (Though not in a strange city) I've done some backpacking in the Rocky Mountains and loved sitting outside my tent and watching the stars and moonlight in the black velvet night. We rarely get to see an "unpolluted sky, and I find it awesome.

[Kareni]

What a fascinating topic, Anne. And, yes, you do have talented friends!

Like Quantum, I also experienced total darkness in a darkroom. In my case, it was a high school photography class. I found it very disorienting.

I am not at all someone who cares for the dark, so naturally I am married to a man who loves astronomy!

[Mary M.]

I'm not at all outdoorsy, but I once did a solo overnight on a California hillside. Opening my eyes during the night to a veritable white-on-black dotted swiss of a sky was the highlight of my experience. I was around 50 at the time and never had such a deep feeling of wonder either before or after.

[Mary T]

We lived in the country when I was young. There were no street lights - only lights from houses. I don't remember ever being afraid of the dark.

But later in life, while I was still working, a friend and I were driving to a house located on a lake for a restful weekend. It turned dark before we arrived. I had forgotten how very dark country roads were. It was pretty scary driving down that dark unfamiliar road in what seemed like total blackness. We did miss one of the turn offs, but we made it there ok (smile).

[Mary Jo Putney]

Great topic, Anne! I grew up in the country with nary a streetlight to be seen anywhere. On a clear night the stars were very visible, and sometime we saw the sweeping sky of stars that is the Milky Way. A couple of times we saw the Northern Lights.

I did darkroom work, though I think there was a red light that gave some illumination. Enough to work. The only times I've been in total darkness was when visiting a cave or a mine when the guide turned the lights off, after giving fair warning. Interesting feeling!

[Anne Gracie]

Thanks, Quantum. I also grew up in the countryside and yes, the imagination can run wild. I remember occasions when we had visitors with kids — we often played hide and seek in the dark, and it was great fun, with that added edge of scariness, because there were no other houses close by, just the bush.

A starry night is glorious, isn't it? In Australia we have a lot more stars in the sky than in the Northern Hemisphere, too, so if you get far enough away from the city, and it's a clear night, it's stunning. Staring up, one feels so insignificant, and yes, the contemplation does inspire philosophical thoughts.

Possums sound so scary, don't they? I hear them in my suburban backyard sometimes, generally followed (or possibly caused) by my dog barking furiously at them.

[Anne Gracie]

Thanks, Lil — that's a lovely way to think of the darkness. I wish you could see the stars we have here — many more than in the Northern Hemisphere. Whenever I get visitors from overseas, I take them out to the country on a clear night to look at the night sky, and they're always blown away.

[Anne Gracie]

Thanks, Christina. Yes, those friends take brilliant photos and I'm lucky they're so generous in sharing them with me. They also have really good cameras, whereas I generally use my phone. It's a blessing to be able to gaze up into a night sky — I miss it, living where I do.

[Anne Gracie]

Thanks, Andrea — yes camping and gazing up into the night sky is such a treat — as long as it isn't raining.
And you're right about darkness in a strange city. I remember once when I was booking for a conference in San Antonia in Texas, the conference hotel was full and I'd planned to stay in one about 10 minutes walk from the conference hotel. When I told American friends this, they had a fit and said it would be madness walking back to that hotel at night on my own. Luckily some people cancelled and I ended up getting a room over the road (a narrow one) from the conference hotel.

[Anne Gracie]

LOL about being married to a man who loved astronomy, Kareni. The darkrooms I've been in always had a soft red light, so they were never totally dark, But the 19th century prison cell was densely black, and it was very sobering thinking of the poor souls who were locked in them for days or longer. They were cruel times.

[Anne Gracie]

Thanks, Mary, yes, that experience of wonder is something rare and precious these days. But when I am contemplating the night sky, I occasionally think of ancient peoples and how their worship revolved around the moon and the stars, and, of course, the sun, on which life depended.

[Anne Gracie]

Oh yes, Mary, driving on dark country roads can be quite a challenge, I agree. I generally slow to a crawl, but I've occasionally been a passenger with a driver who trusted to fate and their skills and didn't slow at all. Terrifying.

[Anne Gracie]

Mary Jo, I have SUCH envy at your seeing the Northern Lights. I can't remember whether we saw them when I was a child in Scotland — I think my siblings and parents did, but being only 7, I was probably sent to be well before they came out to dance.

Yes, any darkrooms I was in had a red light as well, but I've also experienced caves and mines being plunged into darkness. I invariably think of the mines, and how children and ponies were sent down them to toil in the dark and the danger. And those poor pit ponies, who never saw the light again — even if they were brought above ground again (which was unlikely), they were generally blind from years in the dark. Cruel times.

[Robin R]

I live in the suburbs between Washington, DC and Baltimore, MD and it is never dark here. I love to go up to our summer cottage on Cape Cod, where despite a streetlight out front and a couple of neighbors porch lights, we can see the Milky Way on clear nights. We are also lucky enough to usually be there during the Perseid meteor showers.
I like the dark. Fortunately it doesn't bother me; I worked in a laboratory and did a bit of darkroom work with the red light, but we also had some very sensitive emulsions for the scientific samples which had to be handled in complete darkness. I was also the "light tester" - I'd get sealed up for 30 minutes at a time to make sure the door seals on the room were completely light proof. Perhaps because I have always read a lot and have a vivid imagination, I actually enjoyed getting paid for half and hour to relax in the dark and daydream.

[Jeanne Behnke]

Probably the darkest place for me is when we lived in the middle of a corn field in way southern Illinois. Talk about rural. We were newly married & renting a big old farmhouse where we had to pump our water from a cistern. At least it had indoor plumbing. LOL. Otherwise we have always lived in suburban areas of large cities where there's always some light. I love that picture of the moon. I wish I could have taken a decent picture of our moon last night. It was huge & yellow & unbelievably low in the sky to start. Thanks Anne for a wonderful topic.

[Anne Gracie]

Thanks, Robin. I must confess when I had my (limited) experience in a dark room it wasn't the dark that bothered me, it was the chemicals.

I envy you your witnessing of the meteor showers. I've tried — stayed up in the wee small hours on several occasions — but never managed it.

I wonder whether fear of the dark was instilled in some people during early childhood. I don't suppose we'll ever know.

[Anne Gracie]

Jeanne, I often wish I could take better photos of the moon, but whether with my phone camera or my other small one, it is always disappointing. My two writer friends whose photos I've used here are also keen photographers and have fabulous cameras, so I guess I'll just have to keep asking them for permission to use their pics.

[Teresa Broderick]

I grew up in the countryside and we had no electricity so I definitely have experienced total darkness (and no I'm not a hundred)! :) It's an experience. This post has brought back a lot of memories of going walking with my Dad on moonlight nights and the nose was frozen off me with the cold. Back to the house and the open fire with candles on the mantlepiece. Innocent days!!

[Karin]

I have spent nights sleeping out in the woods since I was a child, and total darkness doesn't bother me at all. I've also camped out in places like the Sinai desert, where there was no artificial light around at all. It's wonderful to be able to see the Milky Way, which is impossible where I live. In fact, I have trouble sleeping with any kind of light, so I try to keep my bedroom as dark as possible.

[Anne Gracie]

Teresa, my early years were without electricity also. My parents were into self-sufficiency, so the vegie plot was huge and we had a couple of cows and goats, and lots of poultry. Our water was rainwater collected in a tank and the electricity hadn't reached the rural spot where we lived. I'm pretty sure we used lanterns rather than candles. But we left that house when I was four, so my memory is a bit hazy.

[Anne Gracie]

Karin, I also try to keep my bedroom dark, but that's hard with the number of electrical devices that have little lights in them, whether for charging or simply on and off. I stick covers over most of them, but I recently bought a new fan to run in hot summer nights, and honestly, the tiny light that shows 'on' and also the speed of the fan is light enough that in the middle of the night I can play "bunnies on the wall" with the shadows. (A childhood term for making shadow shapes with your fingers).

[Janice J.]

Here we get nagging messages from Southern California Edison to turn off all those telltale little lights before we go to bed and keep such devices unplugged if we're not using them. We also get nagged to have solar panels installed, but the bills go up anyway. I balance their economy exhortations against the possibility of falling on my nose in the dark and breaking something that matters, like a leg. I do have battery mini flashlights stashed all over the place where I can grab them - useful for reading 1 pt print in poor light :)

When I was a kid and I lived in a suburb of LA, people were careful about keeping lights or heaters on longer than necessary, but it was to keep the bill low. Nobody seemed worried about the environment or any damage to their psyches from light at the wrong time of day.

Every so often Southern California Edison blows up a transformer or some such and we get a blackout - and it is really, really dark! outside even though we are surrounded by Los Angeles (which has a separate power company). The first time it happened, the explosion was right behind our buildings so everybody knew *something* had happened. It was a nice summer night, so people found lanterns and candles and snacks and bottles of wine, and we got to know our neighbors. It is funny that one can live in a condo and sleep six inches from the head of the neighbor on the other side of the wall, and have no idea who they are. That's one thing I like about regency era fiction -- everybody seemed to know everybody.

[Anne Gracie]

That's very interesting Janice. Those blackouts must be very frustrating. Here the local state government has been talking about buying back the main electricity company. It was state owned and very efficient and affordable for years, but a previous State government sold off all the utility companies to private enterprise and the prices have been going up and up — and we've had a few blackouts.

I had solar panels installed on the roof of my new house, so I'll be interested to see what difference it makes to my bills. As for those little lights on devices in the bedroom, I'm a very light sleeper, so I try to reduce, block or minimize them.

And yes, it's weird, not knowing our neighbors. I'm just getting to meet my new ones.