按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
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 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 ofhimself。
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 of soul…awakening； but sometimes； upon more sensitive and subtler natures； the light breaks with all the suddenness of a sunrise at the equator； revealing to the mind's eye an unsuspected world of self within。 But in whatever way we may awake to it； the sense of personality； when first realized； appears already； like the fabled Goddess of Wisdom； full grown in the brain。 From the moment when we first remember ourselves we seem to be as old as we ever seem to others afterwards to become。 We grow； indeed； in knowledge； in wisdom； in experience； as our years increase； but deep down in our heart of hearts we are still essentially the same。 To be sure； people pay us more deference than they did； which suggests a doubt at times whether we may not have changed； small boys of a succeeding generation treat us with a respect that causes us inwardly to smile； as we think how little we differ from them； if they but knew it。 For at bottom we are not conscious of change from that morning； long ago； when first we realized ourselves。 We feel just as young now as we felt old then。 We are but amused at the world's discrimination where we can detect no difference。
Every human being has been thus 〃twice born〃： once as matter； once as mind。 Nor is this second birth the birthright only of mankind。 All the higher animals probably； possibly even the lower too； have experienced some such realization of individual identity。 However that may be； certainly to all races of men has come this revelation； only the degree in which they have felt its force has differed immensely。 It is one thing to the apathetic； fatalistic Turk； and quite another matter to an energetic； nervous American。 Facts； fancies； faiths； all show how wide is the variance in feelings。 With them no introspective ＇greek＇cnzhi seauton overexcites the consciousness of self。 But with us； as with those of old possessed of devils； it comes to startle and stays to distress。 Too apt is it to prove an ever…present； undesirable double。 Too often does it play the part of uninvited spectre at the feast； whose presence no one save its unfortunate victim suspects。 The haunting horror of his own identity is to natures far less eccentric than Kenelm Chillingly's only too common a curse。 To this companionship； paradoxical though it sound； is principally due the peculiar loneliness of childhood。 For nothing is so isolating as a persistent idea which one dares not confide。
And yet；stranger paradox still；was there ever any one willing to exchange his personality for another's？ Who can imagine foregoing his own self？ Nay； do we not cling even to its outward appearance？ Is there a man so poor in all that man holds dear that he does not keenly resent being accidentally mistaken for his neighbor？ Surely there must be something more than mirage in this deep…implanted； widespread instinct of human race。
But however strong the conviction now of one's individuality； is there aught to assure him of its continuance beyond the confines of its present life？ Will it awake on death's morrow and know itself； or will it； like the body that gave it lodgment； disintegrate again into indistinguishable spirit dust？ Close upon the heels of the existing consciousness of self treads the shadow…like doubt of its hereafter。 Will analogy help to answer the grewsome riddle of the Sphinx？ Are the laws we have learned to be true for matter true also for mind？ Matter we now know is indestructible； yet the form of it with which we once were so fondly familiar vanishes never to return。 Is a like fate to be the lot of the soul？ That mind should be capable of annihilation is as inconceivable as that matter should cease to be。 Surely the spirit we feel existing round about us on every side now has been from ever； and will be for ever to come。 But that portion of it which we each know as self； is it not like to a drop of rain seen in its falling through the air？ Indistinguishable the particle was in the cloud whence it came； indistinguishable it will become again in the ocean whither it is bound。 Its personality is but its passing phase from a vast impersonal on the one hand to an equally vast impersonal on the other。 Thus seers preached in the past； so modem science is hinting to…day。 With us the idea seems the bitter fruit of material philosophy； by them it was looked upon as the fairest flower of their faith。 What is dreaded now as the impious suggestion of the godless four thousand years ago was reverenced as a sacred tenet of religion。
Shorter even than his short threescore years and ten is that soul's life of which man is directly cognizant。 Bounded by two seemingly impersonal states is the personal consciousness of which he is made aware： the one the infantile existence that precedes his boyish discovery； the other the gloom that grows with years；two twilights that fringe the two borders of his day。 But with the Far Oriental； life is all twilight。 For in Japan and China both states are found together。 There； side by side with the present unconsciousness of the babe exists the belief in a coming unconsciousness for the man。 So inseparably blended are the two that the known truth of the one seems； for that very bond； to carry with it the credentials of the other。 Can it be that the personal； progressive West is wrong； and the impersonal； impassive East right？ Surely not。 Is the other side of the world in advance of us in mind…development； even as it precedes us in the time of day； or just as our noon is its night； may it not be far in our rear？ Is not its seeming wisdom rather the precociousness of what is destined never to go far？
Brought suddenly upon such a civilization； after the blankness of a long ocean voyage； one is reminded instinctively of the feelings of that bewildered individual who； after a dinner at which he had eventually ceased to be himself； was by way of pleasantry left out overnight in a graveyard； on their way home； by his humorous