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Tides from the West, a Chinese Autobiography, written by Zhang Menglin, read by Dang Dao Ming Part 1 In A Node Empire Number 1 How East and West Met Centuries ago, certain wise men from the east, following a star, travelled to the land where a religion was born destined in centuries to come to play a great part in the life of western nations. A religion based upon meekness was adopted in the course of time by these peoples of extreme vigour. This religion of meekness, which teaches whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheek, turned to him the other also, won its way through the west slowly but persistently by braving Roman lions and enduring hardships, suffering and persecution. A few centuries later, it began to trickle into China with the same meekness. The Nestorians came to China during the Tang Dynasty, which lasted from 618 to 905 AD. And the Tang emperors built churches for them. But they did not find China a fertile soil for their religion. Another few centuries passed, the Jesuits found their way into the course of the Ming Dynasty, which lasted from 1368 to 1643 AD. They brought with them western astronomy, which caught the fancy of the Ming emperors. The western peoples, meanwhile, with vigorous blood in their veins, not only absorbed the new religion, but also created science and made inventions which led to an industrial revolution in recent centuries. As a result, they amassed an immense amount of capital, which had to find an outlet in other countries not as yet industrialized. It flowed to the east, first in a trickle, then in torrents, and finally in tides which flooded the Orient and almost swept China off her feet. China had no trouble with Christianity, nor with any other religion. Only when it was coupled with commercialism supported by gunboats in the middle of the 19th century was the religion of meekness seen through Chinese eyes as that of an aggressor. For a religion seen arm in arm with force changes its color, and the Chinese were unable to dissociate the two. This naturally gave rise to the impression that while Buddha came to China on white elephants, Christ was born on cannonballs. Since we were knocked out by cannonballs, naturally we became interested in them, thinking that by learning to make them we could strike back. We could forget for the time being in whose name they had come, since for us common mortals to save our lives was more important than to save our souls. But history seems to move through very curious ways. From studying cannonballs, we came to mechanical inventions, which in turn led us to political reforms. From political reforms, we began to see political theories, which led us again to the philosophies of the West. On the other hand, through mechanical inventions, we saw science, from which we came to understand scientific method and the scientific mind. By step, we were led farther and farther away from the cannonball, yet we came nearer and nearer to it. The story is a long one, but it all happened in the short span of a hundred years, the dramatic part of it not more than half a century. I say a hundred years because in 1942, Hong Kong was to celebrate its centenary as a British possession, and it was a coincidence that Japan, Britain's former ally, had snatched it from British hands in the previous year by lightning attack. I mention Hong Kong without the least intention of rubbing an old sore, only because it will serve as a convenient landmark for the earlier part of China's westernization. As everyone will remember, the group of hilly islands situated in the South Sea not far from Guangzhou and nests for pirates a century ago was ceded to Britain in 1842 at China's defeat in the so-called Opium War. What actually happened was that China, having forbidden the importation of opium, Britain's principal export from India to that country, burned British opium at Guangzhou. Britain retaliated with cannonballs, and China lost the war. Torrens of western manufacturers began to pour in through the subsequent opening, also stipulated under the treaty, of five coastal cities as commercial ports. These cities lay scattered at fairly regular intervals along the coast of the prosperous southern half of the country. Thus new frontiers were formed. China's frontiers had lain hitherto solely inland to the north and northwest. This change in China's map was the turning point in her history. These five seaports, Guangzhou, Xiamen, Fuzhou, Ningbo, and Shanghai, running from south to north in the chain, served as depots for western manufactured goods, which flowed thens into the richest and most populous parts of the country, the Pearl and Yangtze Valleys. Supported by gunboats, the western merchants squatted like octopuses in the ports, sending their tentacles into the interior of the rich provinces. China, an enormous country larger than the United States, was herself unaware of the penetration and blind to what was bound to happen later on. The life of her millions went its leisurely and contented way from the cradle to the grave without making the least effort toward modernization, while a section of the people began casually to pick up foreign manufacturers, whether for use, for pleasure, or out of curiosity. The gunboat policy of the western powers, however, carried with it not only manufactured goods and opium, but also the healthy seas of western science and culture, which we did not see at the time, but which were to germinate years later to the benefit of China, one of the ironies of history. Meanwhile, the westernization of Japan went on by leaps and bounds. Again, China was unaware of it. Half a century later, by 1894, the Little Island Empire suddenly loomed large over the horizon of the China Sea, sprang a surprise attack upon the sleeping giant, and bit off a mouthful. The next to go after Hong Kong was Taiwan, an island province near the east coast hundreds of times larger than Hong Kong. China now began to feel the pinch and rub her eyes in wonder. What was it that was disturbing her sweet dreams? My original plan was just to ride out what I know and feel about my own country. As I have let these mental pictures run their course, one after another, they have developed into a volume, something like autobiography, something like reminiscences or contemporary history. Whatever it may be, it is all from the indelible images that unrolled in my mind as clearly and vividly as if they had been printed there only yesterday. In the rapid march of events, I felt myself a tiny cog on the vast whirling wheel. What you just heard is Tides from the West, a Chinese autobiography, written by Zhang Meng Lin, read by Tang Da Min, and published by the Foreign Language Teaching and Research Press. Some names and terminologies in this book have been updated per contemporary usages.