It is
quite true that the tympanum of the ear vibrates under sound, and that
the surface of the water in a ditch vibrates too; but the ditch hears
nothing for all that; and my hearing is still to me as blessed a mystery
as ever, and the interval between the ditch and me quite as great. If
the trembling sound in my ears was once of the marriage-bell which began
my happiness, and is now of the passing-bell which ends it, the
difference between those two sounds to me cannot be counted by the number
of concussions. There have been some curious speculations lately as to
the conveyance of mental consciousness by "brain-waves." What does it
matter how it is conveyed? The consciousness itself is not a wave. It
may be accompanied here or there by any quantity of quivers and shakes,
up or down, of anything you can find in the universe that is shakable--
what is that to me? My friend is dead, and my--according to modern views
--vibratory sorrow is not one whit less, or less mysterious, to me, than
my old quiet one.
55. Beyond, and entirely unaffected by, any questionings of this kind,
there are, therefore, two plain facts which we should all know: first,
that there is a power which gives their several shapes to things, or
capacities of feeling; and that we can increase or destroy both of these
at our will.
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