Buddhism, little but about himself and
what he may become. In examining Far Eastern religion, therefore, for
personality, or the reverse, we may dismiss Shintoism as having no
particular bearing upon the subject. The only effect it has is indirect
in furthering the natural propensity of these people to an adoration of
nature.
In Korea and in China, again, Confucianism is the great moral law, as by
reflection it is to a certain extent in Japan. But that in its turn
may be omitted in the present argument; inasmuch as Confucius taught
confessedly and designedly only a system of morals, and religiously
abstained from pronouncing any opinion whatever upon the character or
the career of the human soul.
Taouism, the third great religion of China, resembles Shintoism to this
extent, that it is a body of superstition, and not a form of philosophy.
It undertakes to provide nostrums for spiritual ills, but is dumb as to
the constitution of the soul for which it professes to prescribe.
Its pills are to be swallowed unquestioningly by the patient, and are
warranted to cure; and owing to the two great human frailties, fear
and credulity, its practice is very large. Possessing, however, no
philosophic diploma, it is without the pale of the present discussion.
The demon-worship of Korea is a mild form of the same thing with the
hierarchy left out, every man there being his own spiritual adviser.
An ordinary Korean is born with an innate belief in malevolent spirits,
whom he accordingly propitiates from time to time. One of nobler birth
propitiates only the spirits of his own ancestors.
We come, then, by a process of elimination to a consideration of
Buddhism, the great philosophic faith of the whole Far East.
Not uncommonly in the courtyard of a Japanese temple, in the solemn
half-light of the sombre firs, there stands a large stone basin, cut
from a single block, and filled to the brim with water. The trees, the
basin, and a few stone lanterns--so called from their form, and not
their function, for they have votive pebbles where we should look for
wicks--are the sole occupants of the place. Sheltered from the
wind, withdrawn from sound, and only piously approached by man, this
antechamber of the god seems the very abode of silence and rest. It
might be Nirvana itself, human entrance to an immortality like the god's
within, so peaceful, so pervasive is its calm; and in its midst is the
moss-covered monolith, holding in its e
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