the soul of the far east(远东的灵魂)-第3节
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destiny； as no affinity existed between them； no combination resulted。
The power to fuse was wanting。 Capability to evolve anything is not one
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of the marked characteristics of the Far East。 Indeed； the tendency to
spontaneous variation； Nature's mode of making experiments； would seem
there to have been an enterprising faculty that was exhausted early。
Sleepy； no doubt； from having got up betimes with the dawn； these
dwellers in the far lands of the morning began to look upon their day as
already well spent before they had reached its noon。 They grew old
young； and have remained much the same age ever since。 What they
were centuries ago； that at bottom they are to…day。 Take away the
European influence of the last twenty years； and each man might almost
be his own great…grandfather。 In race characteristics he is yet essentially
the same。 The traits that distinguished these peoples in the past have
been gradually extinguishing them ever since。 Of these traits； stagnating
influences upon their career； perhaps the most important is the great
quality of impersonality。
If we take； through the earth's temperate zone； a belt of country whose
northern and southern edges are determined by certain limiting isotherms；
not more than half the width of the zone apart； we shall find that we have
included in a relatively small extent of surface almost all the nations of
note in the world； past or present。 Now if we examine this belt； and
compare the different parts of it with one another； we shall be struck by a
remarkable fact。 The peoples inhabiting it grow steadily more personal as
we go west。 So unmistakable is this gradation of spirit； that one is tempted
to ascribe it to cosmic rather than to human causes。 It is as marked as the
change in color of the human complexion observable along any meridian；
which ranges from black at the equator to blonde toward the pole。 In like
manner； the sense of self grows more intense as we follow in the wake of
the setting sun； and fades steadily as we advance into the dawn。 America；
Europe； the Levant； India； Japan； each is less personal than the one before。
We stand at the nearer end of the scale； the Far Orientals at the other。 If
with us the I seems to be of the very essence of the soul； then the soul of
the Far East may be said to be Impersonality。
Curious as this characteristic is as a fact； it is even more interesting as
a factor。 For what it betokens of these peoples in particular may suggest
much about man generally。 It may mark a stride in theory； if a standstill
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in practice。 Possibly it may help us to some understanding of ourselves。
Not that it promises much aid to vexed metaphysical questions； but as a
study in sociology it may not prove so vain。
And for a thing which is always with us； its discussion may be said to
be peculiarly opportune just now。 For it lies at the bottom of the most
pressing questions of the day。 Of the two great problems that stare the
Western world in the face at the present moment； both turn to it for
solution。 Agnosticism； the foreboding silence of those who think；
socialism； communism； and nihilism； the petulant cry of those who do not；
alike depend ultimately for the right to be upon the truth or the falsity of
the sense of self。
For if there be no such actual thing as individuality； if the feeling we
call by that name be naught but the transient illusion the Buddhists would
have us believe it； any faith founded upon it as basis vanishes as does the
picture in a revolving kaleidoscope； less enduring even than the flitting
phantasmagoria of a dream。 If the ego be but the passing shadow of the
material brain； at the disintegration of the gray matter what will become of
us？ Shall we simply lapse into an indistinguishable part of the vast
universe that compasses us round？ At the thought we seem to stand
straining our gaze； on the shore of the great sea of knowledge； only to
watch the fog roll in； and hide from our view even those headlands of
hope that； like beseeching hands； stretch out into the deep。
So more materially。 If individuality be a delusion of the mind； what
motive potent enough to excite endeavor in the breast of an ordinary
mortal remains？ Philosophers； indeed； might still work for the
advancement of mankind； but mankind itself would not continue long to
labor energetically for what should profit only the common weal。 Take
away the stimulus of individuality； and action is paralyzed at once。 For
with most men the promptings of personal advantage only afford sufficient
incentive to effort。 Destroy this force； then any consideration due it
lapses； and socialism is not only justified； it is raised instantly into an
axiom of life。 The community； in that case； becomes itself the unit； the
indivisible atom of existence。 Socialism； then communism； then nihilism；
follow in inevitable sequence。 That even the Far Oriental； with all his
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numbing impersonality； has not touched this goal may at least suggest that
individuality is a fact。
But first； what do we know about its existence ourselves？
Very early in the course of every thoughtful childhood an event takes
place； by the side of which； to the child himself； all other events sink into
insignificance。 It is not one that is recognized and chronicled by the
world； for it is wholly unconnected with action。 No one but the child is
aware of its occurrence； and he never speaks of it to others。 Yet to that
child it marks an epoch。 So intensely individual does it seem that the boy
is afraid to avow it； while in reality so universal is it that probably no
human being has escaped its influence。 Though subjective purely； it has
more vividness than any external event； and though strictly intrinsic to life；
it is more startling than any accident of fate or fortune。 This experience of
the boy's； at once so singular and yet so general； is nothing less than the
sudden revelation to him one day of the fact of his own personality。
Somewhere about the time when sensation is giving place to
sensitiveness as the great self…educator； and the knowledge gained by the
five bodily senses is being fused into the wisdom of that mental one we
call common sense； the boy makes a discovery akin to the act of waking
up。 All at once he becomes conscious of himself； and the consciousness
has about it a touch of the uncanny。 Hitherto he has been aware only of
matter； he now first realizes mind。 Unwarned； unprepared； he is
suddenly ushered before being； and stands awe…struck in the presence of
himself。
If the introduction to his own identity was startling； there is nothing
reassuring in the feeling that this strange acquaintanceship must last。 For
continue it does。 It becomes an unsought intimacy he cannot shake off。
Like to his own shadow he cannot escape it。 To himself a man cannot but
be at home。 For years this alter ego haunts him； for he imagines it an
idiosyncrasy of his own； a morbid peculiarity he dare not confide to any
one； for fear of being thought a fool。 Not till long afterwards； when he
has learned to live as a matter of course with his ever…present ghost； does
he discover that others have had like familiars themselves。
Sometimes this dawn of consciousness is preceded by a long twilight
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of soul
