朗读练习
II. A PSEUDO-SCIENTIFIC FORMULA
Let us begin with an examination of the Chinese mental make-up
which produced this philosophy of living: great realism, inadequate
idealism, a high sense of humor, and a high poetic sensitivity to life
and nature.
Mankind seems to be divided into idealists and realists, and
idealism and realism are the two great forces molding human
progress. The clay of humanity is made soft and pliable by the water
of idealism, but the stuff that holds it together is after all the clay
itself, or we might all evaporate into Ariels. The forces of idealism
and realism tug at each other in all human activities, personal, social
and national, and real progress is made possible by the proper
mixture of these two ingredients, so that the clay is kept in the ideal
pliable, plastic condition, half moist and half dry, not hardened and
unmanageable, nor dissolving into mud. The soundest nations, like
the English, have realism and idealism mixed in proper proportions,
like the clay which neither hardens and so gets past the stage for the
artist’s molding, nor is so wishy-washy that it cannot retain its form.
Some countries are thrown into perpetual revolutions because into
their clay has been injected some liquid of foreign ideals which is not
yet properly assimilated, and the clay is therefore not able to keep its
shape.
A vague, uncritical idealism always lends itself to ridicule and too
much of it might be a danger to mankind, leading it round in a futile
wild-goose chase for imaginary ideals. If there were too many of
these visionary idealists in any society or people, revolutions would
be the order of the day. Human society would be like an idealistic
couple forever getting tired of one place and changing their
residence regularly once every three months, for the simple reason
that no one place is ideal and the place where one is not seems
always better because one is not there. Very fortunately, man is also
gifted with a sense of humor, whose function, as I conceive it, is to
exercise criticism of man’s dreams, and bring them in touch with the
world of reality. It is important that man dreams, but it is perhaps
equally important that he can laugh at his own dreams, That is a
great gift, and the Chinese have plenty of it.
The sense of humor, which I shall discuss at more length in a later
chapter, seems to be very closely related to the sense of reality, or
realism. If the joker is often cruel in disillusioning the idealist, he
nevertheless performs a very important function right there by not
letting the idealist bump his head against the stone wall of reality and
receive a ruder shock. He also gently eases the tension of the hotheaded
enthusiast and makes him live longer. By preparing him for
disillusion, there is probably less pain in the final impact, for a
humorist is always like a man charged with the duty of breaking a
sad news gently to a dying patient. Sometimes the gentle warning
from a humorist saves the dying patient’s life. If idealism and
disillusion must necessarily go together in this world, we must say
that life is cruel, rather than the joker who reminds us of life’s cruelty.
I have often thought of formulas by which the mechanism of
human progress and historical change can be expressed. They
seem to be as follows:
Reality—Dreams = Animal Being
Reality + Dreams = A Heart-Ache (usually called Idealism)
Reality + Humor = Realism (also called Conservatism)
Dreams—Humor = Fanaticism
Dreams + Humor = Fantasy
Reality + Dreams + Humor = Wisdom
So then, wisdom, or the highest type of thinking, consists in toning
down our dreams or idealism with a good sense of humor, supported
by reality itself.
As pure ventures in pseudo-scientific formulations, we may
proceed to analyze national characters in the following manner. I say
“pseudo-scientific” because I distrust all dead and mechanical
formulas for expressing anything connected with human affairs or
human personalities. Putting human affairs in exact formulas shows
in itself a lack of the sense of humor and therefore a lack of wisdom I
do not mean that these things are not being done: they are.
That is why we get so much pseudo-science today. When a
psychologist can measure a man’s I.Q. or P.Q.,1 it is a pretty poor
world, and specialists have risen to usurp humanized scholarship.
But if we recognize that these formulas are no more than handy,
graphic ways of expressing certain opinions, and so long as we don’t
drag in the sacred name of science to help advertise our goods, no
harm is done. The following are my formulas for the characters of
certain nations, entirely personal and completely incapable of proof
or verification. Anyone is free to dispute them and change them or
add his own, if he does not claim that he can prove his private
opinions by a mass of statistical facts and figures. Let “R” stand for a
sense of reality (or realism), “D” for dreams (or idealism), “H” for a
sense of humor, and—adding one important ingredient—“S” for
sensitivity.2 And further let “4” stand for “abnormally high,” “3” stand
for “high,” “2” for “fair,” and “I” for “low,” and we have the following
pseudo-chemical formulas for the following national characters.
Human beings and communities behave then differently according to
their different compositions, as sulphates and sulphides or carbon
monoxide and carbon dioxide behave differently from one another.
For me, the interesting thing always is to watch how human
communities or nations behave differently under identical conditions.
As we cannot invent words like “humoride” and “humorate” after the
fashion of chemistry, we may put it thus: “3 grains of Realism, 2
grains of Dreams, 2 grains of Humor and I grain of Sensitivity make
an Englishman.”3
R3D2H2S1 = The English
R2D3H3S3 = The French
R3D3H2S2 = The Americans
R3D4H1S2 = The Germans
R2D4H1S1 = The Russians
R2D3H1S1 = The Japanese
R4D1H3S3 = The Chinese
I do not know the Italians, the Spanish, the Hindus and others well
enough even to essay a formula on the subject, realizing that the
above are shaky enough as they are, and in any case are enough to
bring down a storm of criticism upon my head. Probably these
formulas are more provocative than authoritative. I promise to modify
them gradually for my own use as new facts are brought to my
knowledge, or new impressions are formed. That is all they are worth
today—a record of the progress of my knowledge and the gaps of
my ignorance.
Some observations may be necessary. It is easy to see that I
regard the Chinese as most closely allied to the French in their
sense of humor and sensitivity, as is quite evident from the way the
French write their books and eat their food, while the more volatile
character of the French comes from their greater idealism, which
takes the form of love of abstract ideas (recall the manifestoes of
their literary, artistic and political movements). “R4” for Chinese
realism makes the Chinese the most realistic people; “D1” accounts
for something of a drag in the changes in their pattern or ideal of life.
The high figures for Chinese humor and sensitivity, as well as for
their realism, are perhaps due to my too close association and the
vividness of my impressions. For Chinese sensitivity, little justification
is needed; the whole story of Chinese prose, poetry and painting
proclaims it. . . . The Japanese and Germans are very much alike in
their comparative lack of humor (such is the general impression of
people), yet it is really impossible to give a “zero” for any one
characteristic in any one nation, not even for idealism in the Chinese
people. It is all a question of degree; such statements as a complete
lack of this or that quality are not based on an intimate knowledge of
the peoples. For this reason, I give the Japanese and the Germans
“H1,” instead of “H0,” and I intuitively feel that I am right. But I do
believe that the Japanese and the Germans suffer politically at
present, and have suffered in the past, fox lacking a better sense of
humor. How a Prussian Geheimrat loves to be called a Geheimrat,
and how he loves his buttons and metal pins! A certain belief in
“logical necessity” (often “holy” or “sacred”), a tendency to fly too
straight at a goal instead of circling around it, often carries one too
far It is not so much what you believe in that matters, as the way in
which you believe it and proceed to translate that belief into action.
By “D3” for the Japanese I am referring to their fanatic loyalty to their
emperor and to the state, made possible by a low mixture of humor.
For idealism must stand for different things in different countries, as
the so-called sense of humor really comprises a very wide variety of
things. . . . There is an interesting tug between idealism and realism
in America, both given high figures, and that produces the energy
characteristic of the Americans. What American idealism is, I had
better leave it to the Americans to find out; but they are always
enthusiastic about something or other. A great deal of this idealism is
noble, in the sense that the Americans are easily appealed to by
noble ideals or noble words; but some of it is mere gullibility. The
American sense of humor again means a different thing from the
Continental sense of humor, but really I think that, such as it is (the
love of fun and an innate, broad common sense), it is the greatest
asset of the American nation. In the coming years of critical change,
they will have great need of that broad common sense referred to by
James Bryce, which I hope will tide them over these critical times. I
give American sensitivity a low figure because of my impression that
they can stand so many things. There is no use quarreling about
this, because we will be quarreling about words. . . . The English
scan to be on the whole the soundest race: contrast their “R3D2” with
the French “R2D3”. I am all for “R3D2”. It bespeaks stability. The ideal
formula for me would seem to be R3D2H3S2, for too much idealism
or too much sensitivity is not a good thing, either. And if I give “S1”
for English sensitivity, and if that is too low, who is to blame for it
except the English themselves? How can I tell whether the English
ever feel anything—joy, happiness, anger, satisfaction—when they
are determined to look so glum on all occasions?
We might apply the same formula to writers and poets. To take a
few well-known types:
Shakespeare4 = R4D4H3S4
Heine = R3D3H4S3
Shelley = R1D4H1S4
Poe = R3D4H1S4
Li Po = R1D3H2S4
Tu Fu = R3D3H2S4
Su Tungp’o = R3D2H4S3
These are no more than a few impromptu suggestions. But it is clear
that all poets have a high sensitivity, or they wouldn’t be poets at all:
Poe, I feel, is a very sound genius, in spite of his weird, imaginative
gift. Doesn’t he love “ratiocination”?
So my formula for the Chinese national mind is:
R4D1H3S3
There we start with an “S3,” standing for high sensitivity, which
guarantees a proper artistic approach to life and answers for the
Chinese affirmation that this earthly life is beautiful and the
consequent intense love of this life. But it signifies more than that;
actually it stands for the artistic approach even to philosophy. It
accounts for the fact that the Chinese philosopher’s view of life is
essentially the poet’s view of life, and that, in China, philosophy is
married to poetry rather than to science as it is in the West. It will
become amply clear from what follows that this high sensitivity to the
pleasures and pains and flux and change of the colors of life is the
very basis that makes a light philosophy possible. Man’s sense of
the tragedy of life comes from his sensitive perception of the tragedy
of a departing spring, and a delicate tenderness toward life comes
from a tenderness toward the withered blossoms that bloomed
yesterday. First the sadness and sense of defeat, then the
awakening and the laughter of the old rogue-philosopher.
On the other hand, we have “R4” standing for intense realism,
which means an attitude of accepting life as it is and of regarding a
bird in the hand as better than two in the bush. This realism,
therefore, both reinforces and supplements the artist’s affirmation
that this life is transiently beautiful, and it all but saves the artist and
poet from escaping from life altogether. The Dreamer says “Life is
but a dream,” and the Realist replies, “Quite correct. And let us live
this dream as beautifully as we can.” But the realism of one
awakened is the poet’s realism and not that of the business man,
and the laughter of the old rogue is no longer the laughter of the
young go-getter singing his-way to success with his head up and his
chin out, but that of an old man running his finger through his flowing
beard, and speaking in a soothingly low voice. Such a dreamer loves
peace, for no one can fight hard for a dream- He will be more intent
to live reasonably and well with his fellow dreamers. Thus is the high
tension of life lowered.
But the chief function of this sense of realism is the elimination of
all non-essentials in the philosophy of life, holding life down by the
neck, as it were, for fear that the wings of imagination may carry it
away to an imaginary and possibly beautiful, but unreal, world. And
after all, the wisdom of life consists in the elimination of nonessentials,
in reducing the problems of philosophy to just a few—the
enjoyment of the home (the relationship between man and woman
and child), of living, of Nature and of culture—and in showing all the
other irrelevant scientific disciplines and futile chases after
knowledge to the door. The problems of life for the Chinese
philosopher then become amazingly few and simple. It means also
an impatience with metaphysics and with the pursuit of knowledge
that does not lead to any practical bearing on life itself. And it also
means that every human activity, whether the acquiring of
knowledge or the acquiring of things, has to be submitted
immediately to the test of life itself and of its subserviency to the end
of living. Again, and here is a significant result, the end of living is not
some metaphysical entity—but just living itself.
Gifted with this realism, and with a profound distrust of logic and
of the intellect itself, philosophy for the Chinese becomes a matter of
direct and intimate feeling of life itself, and refuses to be encased in
any system. For there is a robust sense of reality, a sheer animal
sense, a spirit of reasonableness which crushes reason itself and
makes the rise of any hard and fast philosophic system impossible.
There are the three religions of China, Confucianism, Taoism and
Buddhism, all magnificent systems in themselves, and yet robust
common sense dilutes them all and reduces them all into the
common problem of the pursuit of a happy human life. The mature
Chinese is always a person who refuses to think too hard or to
believe in any single idea or faith or school of philosophy wholeheartedly.
When a friend of Confucius told him that he always
thought three times before he acted, Confucius wittily replied, “To
think twice is quite enough.” A follower of a school of philosophy is
but a student of philosophy, but a man is a student, or perhaps a
master, of life.
The final product of this culture and philosophy is this: in China, as
compared with the West, man lives a life closer to nature and closer
to childhood, a life in which the instincts and the emotions are given
free play and emphasized against the life of the intellect, with a
strange combination of devotion to the flesh and arrogance of the
spirit, of profound wisdom and foolish gaiety, of high sophistication
and childish naïveté. I would say, therefore, that this philosophy is
characterized by: first, a gift for seeing life whole in art; secondly, a
conscious return to simplicity in philosophy; and thirdly, an ideal of
reasonableness in living. The end product is, strange to say, a
worship of the poet, the peasant and the vagabond.