Master of Mankind: Attitudes towards Other Cultures during the European Imperial Era

Author: (English) Kieran Southworth, translated by Chen Zhengguo
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-05-01
Features: Dr. Johnson began writing a long poem in 1749. In it, he addressed the readers in a speech-like tone, urging, "To survey human history, begin from China to Peru" (Surveymankind, fromChinatoPeru). However, the doctor himself, who lived in London, only explored as far north as Scotland and as far east as Paris. Yet, what pleased Dr. Johnson was that the Russians translated his thoughts into Russian and recited them by the Volgariver. My joy was no less than Dr. Johnson’s. I am delighted that my work has been translated into Chinese and presented to readers on the shores of the East, far beyond the Volgariver. I am grateful to Mr. Chen Zhengguo for suggesting the translation of this book. I have never been to Peru, but I did write a history of the war between Peru and its neighbor Chile——《War of the Pacific》。 Like most histories, it is a dark page of events. What grieves me even more is that I have never visited China; though I have been mentally wandering there since 1934. At that time, I was a student of history at Cambridge University, searching for a topic for my thesis. A professor suggested I study China—a country then largely unknown in British universities. The novelty of China attracted me, and the events happening there at the time captivated my attention. The events in China then became the prelude to the world’s later changes. My research on China later resulted in the publication of British Diplomacy in China, 1880–1885. The reason I stopped at 1885 was that in the "blinded by the eyes and deafened by the ears" 1930s, the diplomatic archives after 1885 were highly confidential. Additionally, the international situation in China between 1880 and 1885 was vastly different from before. First, China and Russia were in tension over the Xinjiang issue. Many countries coveted China’s vassal state, Korea; France exerted deep control over another Chinese vassal state, Annam. In 1885, a British-Russian diplomatic crisis occurred. During my student days at Cambridge, the university was politically active. For example, at the time, European fascism was on the rise, and Italy’s fascist party invaded Abyssinia. The main student society at Cambridge invited the deposed and exiled King of Abyssinia to visit Cambridge and awarded him an honorary membership. Hitler and Mussolini supported a military coup in Spain, overthrowing the existing republican regime. Japan’s invasion of China also sparked strong protests at Cambridge. More and more students came forward to express their dissatisfaction; of course, the Chinese Students’ Association was no exception. At that time, the Chinese Students’ Association had about thirty or forty members, composed of Chinese students from places like Malaya and local Chinese students. The Indian Students’ Association had more members than the Chinese Students’ Association and also joined the protest. I met many Chinese students at Cambridge (some of whom were even tennis players). One student was older than the others. Because of his dignified demeanor, as if he were a reincarnation of a Confucian disciple, his friends called him "The Sage." His name was Chu Daga. He often recited ancient Chinese poetry on the college lawns and shared it with his friends. He beautifully translated a collection of Chinese Lyrics into English. Cambridge University published this book in 1937, and it even invited the distinguished Professor Quiller-Couch to write a celebrated preface for it. Chu Daga dedicated this book to me, which greatly honored me. Half a century later, Chu Daga published another collection of classical poetry in Chinese-English parallel form. During my stay in India, I also met some Chinese people. They had come to India because of the war. On one of my travels in 1945, I climbed from India into the Kasmir mountains and entered Ladakh, where Buddhism was prevalent. Leh, the capital of Ladakh, is a small mountain town. I met a Chinese officer there. He was stationed locally, responsible for commanding the mule teams that transported war supplies and unloading them from an altitude of 18,000 feet into Xinjiang. His love for poetry was typical of the Chinese. He even collected and translated some local folk songs. One folk song, in a touching tone, described a newly married woman whose eyes still lingered on her parents’ old home, while her toes had already taken steps toward her husband’s home, heading toward an uncertain future. This Chinese officer gave me a pocket-sized Chinese dictionary. On my journey home, I tried to memorize some Chinese characters, but to no avail. Just as I set off on my return journey, an atomic bomb fell. World War II ended with it. Since then, every corner of the world has faced many difficulties and harsh situations. But the changes in the Far East were clearly more significant than in most other regions. And these changes have far exceeded what I could have imagined when writing about the Far East in the 1880s.