In our way we are as keen
about the great question as the Brahmans are, and for us the problem of
problems may be stated in few words--"Is there a future life?" All our
philosophy, all our laws, all our hopes and fears are concerned with
that paralyzing question, and we differ from the Hindoo only in that we
affect an extravagant uncertainty, while he sincerely professes an
absolute certainty. The cultured Western man pretends to dismiss the
problem with a shrug; he labels himself as an agnostic or by some other
vague definition, and he is fond of proclaiming his idea that he knows
and can know nothing. That is a pretence. When the philosopher says that
he does not know and does not care what his future may be, he speaks
insincerely; he means that he cannot prove by experiment the fact of a
future life--or, as Mr. Ruskin puts it, "he declares that he never found
God in a bottle"--but deep down in his soul there is a knowledge that
influences his lightest action. The man of science, the "advanced
thinker," or whatever he likes to call himself, proves to us by his
ceaseless protestations of doubt and unbelief that he is incessantly
pondering the one subject which he would fain have us fancy he ignores.
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