This is a question, we repeat, which all the science of all the wise men of all the generations is completely incapable of deciding. No amount of reasoning can disprove it, any more than it can prove it. That is the special point I have been trying to make clear. Because the cold processes of the intellect are inclined to dismiss as absurd all kinds of beliefs and conceptions which they cannot verify, they need not be abandoned on that account.
VI
SCIENCE AND THE INTELLECT
No amount of reasoning can alter the fact that certain spontaneous and fundamental feelings of man's inner nature inspire him to conscientious effort and, as they presumably owe their origin to an all-wise Creator, they may be safely relied on to indicate his part and responsibility in the mysterious scheme.
It seems to me that nothing in the whole problem of life is more important than a thorough realization of this undoubted truth—that the big fundamental feelings of man's better nature are absolutely independent and apart from the working of his intellect, or any calculation of self-interest, conscious or implied, just as they are independent of his material appetites and instincts. A clear understanding of this truth will answer many of the questions which are so apt to confuse the reason and trouble the peace of mind of the average much instructed person.
If a scientific doubter asks us how we can be sure of this, we can answer without hesitation that the evidence of our own inner feelings is unmistakable proof of it. The only proof of a feeling is the feeling itself. We have it—we are conscious of it—it is, as far as we are concerned, and it is futile for any outsider to deny it.
If any one is so constituted that he cannot get the force of this, we may make the understanding of it easier by turning his attention to the feelings of man's esthetic nature, which operate in a somewhat similar way. We have already had occasion to refer to them, but we may be permitted to do so again, with added emphasis. They are an illustration and a confirmation of the vitally important principle which we have just been stating.
If a setting sun, or a harmony, or musical notes, appeal to my sense of beauty and give rise to a vague but delicious emotion of my inner nature, all the arguments of all the intellects on earth are powerless to alter the essence and meaning of that feeling, so far as my nature is concerned. To me that feeling of beauty is a fact, and it would remain just as much a fact, even if no other person in the world shared it with me; and every other person in the world undertook to deny its existence. The only proof I have of it, the only proof I need for it, is that I feel it.
Now when the intellect takes upon itself to meddle with such things, a learned professor may explain that a certain musical note is composed of vibrations—so many thousand per second—which are communicated to particles of matter in suspension in the air and carried by them to the tympanum of the ear, which acts thus-and-so upon the various components of the hearing apparatus, and finally arrives through a system of ganglia to a certain nerve centre, located somewhere in a brain cell, or the spinal column. He may use a great many other big words and display various kinds of scientific devices for measuring sound waves and calculating vibrations, but when he has finished, all his science will not enable him to compose a touching melody, or feel the beauty and inspiration of it. A little child, or a negro mammy, with a soul for music, will feel and give out something, whose very essence has nothing to do with the intellect and which the most formidable intellect is powerless to grasp.