In whatever the East did,
there was evident the hand of the West. In whatever the West thought
there was visible the prismatic intelligence of the East. The gods of
Greece showed their smooth foreheads on the banks of the Ganges.
Oriental systems refracted the blonde Mediterranean light into an
hundred subtle tints. But the empire of Alexander crumbled, Parthians
annihilated the legions of Crassus. Persians and Seljuks and Ottomans
barred Europe from the East. Steady communication ceased. Asia withdrew
under her cloudy mysterious curtains. Legendary fumes, Cathay, Zipango,
the Indias of the Great Ocean, arose. Once again, the two basins were
cut off. Once again, each began secreting a substance radically
different from the other's, a substance growing more individual with
each elapsing century. For almost two thousand years, East and West
developed away one from the other.
And now, a second time, in our own hour, the two have drawn close and
confronted each other. Once again, a fusion has taken place. We are
to-day in the midst of a movement likely to surpass the period of
Hellenization in duration and extent. This time, perhaps, no dramatic
march of Macedonians to the banks of the Indus has served to make the
connection. Nevertheless, in the image of Amy Lowell, guns have again
shown themselves keys.
Pages:
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285