Lu Xun Complete Works/en/Kuangren Riji
A Madman's Diary (狂人日记)
鲁迅 (Lǔ Xùn, 1881–1936)
Translation from the Chinese into English.
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A Madman's Diary
Two brothers, whose names I shall conceal here, were both good friends of mine during our years at middle school. Over time we lost touch, and news of them grew ever scarcer. Not long ago I happened to learn that one of them had fallen gravely ill. As I was just then returning to my hometown, I made a detour to visit them, but found only one of the two at home. He told me the patient was his younger brother. "It was good of you to come all this way to see him, but he recovered long ago and has gone to take up an official post somewhere." At this he laughed heartily and produced two volumes of a diary, saying they would reveal his brother's condition during the illness and that there was no harm in showing them to an old friend. I took them home and read them through. The entries revealed that the patient had suffered from a form of persecution complex. The language was incoherent and disjointed, full of wild ravings; there were no dates, though variations in ink colour and handwriting showed that the entries had not been written at one sitting. Here and there a certain thread of logic could be discerned. I have now copied out one of these pieces to make it available for medical research. Not a single word of the original errors has been changed; only the names — all villagers unknown to the wider world and of no consequence — have been altered throughout. As for the title, it was chosen by the patient himself after his recovery, and I have not changed it. Recorded on the 2nd day of the 4th month of the 7th year.
I
A fine moonlit night tonight.
I have not seen him for over thirty years; today, when I caught sight of him, I felt extraordinarily refreshed. Only now do I realize that the past thirty-odd years have been nothing but a stupor. Yet one must exercise the utmost caution. Otherwise, why should the dog at the Zhao (趙) household have given me those looks?
I have every reason to be afraid.
II
No moon at all tonight — I know this bodes ill. When I stepped out cautiously this morning, old Zhao Guiweng (趙貴翁) had a peculiar look in his eyes: he seemed to be afraid of me, yet at the same time to mean me harm. Seven or eight other people were huddled together, whispering about me, afraid I might see them. Everyone I met on the road was the same. The most vicious among them opened his mouth wide and grinned at me; then a chill ran from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, for I knew: their preparations were complete.
I am not afraid, though, and continue on my way. Ahead, a group of children were also discussing me; the look in their eyes was the same as Zhao Guiweng's, and their faces were ashen. I wondered what grudge I could possibly have with children, that they too should act this way. I could not restrain myself and called out: "Tell me!" But they ran off.
I thought: what grudge is there between me and Zhao Guiweng? What grudge between me and the people on the road? The only thing I can think of is that twenty years ago I trampled on old Mr. Gujiu's (古久先生) age-old account ledger, which greatly displeased him. Although Zhao Guiweng doesn't even know him, he must have got wind of it and taken up his cause in indignation; he conspired with the people on the road to make an enemy of me. But the children? They had not yet been born at that time — why do they stare at me today with such strange eyes, as though they feared me and wished to harm me? This truly frightens me; I find it bewildering and deeply hurtful.
Now I understand. Their mothers and fathers taught them!
III
I can never sleep at night. One must investigate things before one can understand them.
Those people — some of them have been put in the stocks by the magistrate, some have been slapped in the face by the gentry, some have had their wives taken by the yamen runners, some have had their parents driven to death by creditors. Their faces at those times bore nothing like yesterday's expression of fear and ferocity.
The strangest thing was the woman on the street yesterday who was beating her son, crying: "You wretch! I could just eat you alive — take a few bites out of you to vent my rage!" Yet her eyes were fixed on me. I was so startled I could not conceal it; then the whole mob with their greenish faces and jutting fangs burst into roars of laughter. Old Chen Wu (陳老五) rushed up and dragged me forcibly home.
After he had dragged me home, everyone in the house pretended not to know me; the look in their eyes was exactly the same as all the others'. They ushered me into the study and bolted the door behind me, just as if they were locking up a chicken or a duck. This business baffled me all the more.
A few days ago, a tenant farmer from Wolf Cub Village (狼子村) came to report a famine to my elder brother. He said that in their village a notorious villain had been beaten to death by the mob; several people had gouged out his heart and liver, fried them in oil, and eaten them to bolster their courage. When I put in a word, the tenant farmer and my brother both gave me a long look. Only today do I realize: their looks were exactly the same as those of the mob outside.
The thought sends a chill from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet.
If they can eat people, then they can certainly eat me.
Consider the woman's words — "eat you alive, take a few bites" — and the laughter of the mob with their greenish faces and fangs, and the tenant farmer's words the other day: these are plainly secret signals. I can see that their words are full of poison and their laughter is full of knives. Their teeth are arrayed in white, gleaming rows — these are the implements of cannibalism.
When I think about it: although I myself am not a bad person, ever since I trampled on old Gujiu's ledger, anything is possible. They seem to have some other design that I cannot fathom. Besides, the moment they turn on you, they declare you a villain. I still remember how my elder brother taught me to write essays: no matter how good a person was, if you turned a few phrases against him, he would mark it with a circle of approval; but if you forgave a villain with a few kind words, he would praise it as "a stroke of genius, most extraordinary." How can I fathom their intentions — especially when they are about to devour someone?
One must investigate everything before one can understand. In ancient times people were often eaten — I remember that much, though not very clearly. I opened the history books and looked: this history has no dates, but scrawled across every page, in crooked characters, are the words "Benevolence, Righteousness, Morality, and Virtue." Since I could not sleep anyway, I read carefully through half the night until at last I managed to make out words between the lines. The entire book was filled with just two words — "EAT PEOPLE"!
All these words are written in the books, all these things the tenant farmer said — and all the while they stare at me with a grin and strange, fixed eyes.
I too am a human being, and they want to eat me!
IV
In the morning I sat quietly for a while. Old Chen Wu brought in the food: a dish of vegetables and a dish of steamed fish. The eyes of this fish — white, hard, and its mouth agape — looked just like the mob that wants to eat people. After I had taken a few mouthfuls with my chopsticks — so slippery I could not tell whether it was fish or human flesh — I spewed everything out, entrails and all.
I said: "Old Wu, tell my brother I feel stifled and would like to take a walk in the garden." Old Wu did not reply and went out; after a short while, however, he came back and opened the door.
I did not move, but watched to see what they intended to do with me; I knew they would not simply let me go. Sure enough! My elder brother led in an old man, who shuffled slowly toward me. His eyes were brimming with murderous intent, and fearing I might notice, he lowered his head and peered at me sideways over the rim of his spectacles. My brother said: "You seem quite well today." I said: "Yes." My brother said: "I have asked Mr. He (何先生) to come and examine you today." I said: "By all means." Yet I knew perfectly well that this old man was a disguised executioner! Under the pretext of taking my pulse, he was merely sizing me up to see whether I was fat or lean — and as a reward for this service he too would get a share of the meat. I was not afraid; although I myself do not eat people, my courage surpasses theirs. I thrust out both fists to see how he would proceed. The old man sat down, closed his eyes, and felt me over for a long time, then remained motionless for another long while; at last he opened his ghoulish eyes and said: "Don't think too much. Rest quietly for a few days, and you will be well."
Don't think too much, rest quietly! Fatten me up so they can eat more of me! What good would it do me — how would I get "well"? This mob — on one hand they want to eat people, on the other they skulk about furtively, trying to find pretexts, not daring to strike openly — it really is enough to make one die laughing. I could not contain myself and burst into peals of laughter, which gave me great satisfaction. I knew: this laughter was filled with nothing but courage and integrity. The old man and my brother both turned pale — my courage and integrity had cowed them.
But precisely because I have courage, they want to eat me all the more, to absorb some of it. The old man stepped out the door, and before he had gone far, he said to my brother in a low voice: "Eat him at once!" My brother nodded. So — you too! This momentous discovery, though it seems unexpected, is after all not surprising: the one who has conspired with the others to eat me is my very own
brother!
A cannibal — that is my brother!
I am the brother of a cannibal!
I myself am to be eaten — and yet I am still the brother of a cannibal!
V
These past few days I have taken my thinking one step further: even if that old man were not a disguised executioner but a genuine doctor, he would still be a cannibal. In the "Bencao-Something-or-Other" written by their patriarch Li Shizhen (李時珍), it is stated in black and white that human flesh may be sliced, fried, and eaten — so how can he still claim he does not eat people?
As for my elder brother, I do him no injustice whatsoever. When he was explaining books to me, he himself said — with his own mouth — that one may "exchange children and eat them"; and on another occasion, when the conversation happened to touch upon an odious individual, he said the man ought not only to be killed but to "have his flesh eaten and his hide slept upon." I was still young then, and my heart pounded for a long time. The other day, when the tenant farmer from Wolf Cub Village told the story of eating hearts and livers, he showed not the slightest surprise and kept nodding. Clearly his mind is as cruel as it ever was. If one may "exchange children and eat them," then anything may be exchanged and anyone may be eaten. In the past I let myself be lulled by his talk of reason and justice; now I know: when he spoke of reason and justice, not only were his lips still smeared with human grease, but his heart was brimming with the intent to devour.
VI
Pitch-black all around — I cannot tell whether it is day or night. The Zhao family's dog has started barking again.
Ferocious as a lion, timid as a hare, cunning as a fox …
VII
I know their methods. They will not commit outright murder — they are unwilling, and moreover they lack the nerve, for they fear retribution. So they all join forces, spread their nets, and drive me to kill myself. Just observe the behaviour of the men and women on the street these past few days and the conduct of my elder brother — then eight or nine tenths of the matter become clear. The best course would be for me to remove my belt, hang it from the roof beam, and strangle myself. Then they would bear no guilt for murder and yet have their heart's desire fulfilled — naturally they would burst into a kind of sobbing, choked laughter of delight. Otherwise, if I were to die of fright and grief — though I would be somewhat thin — they could still nod in approval.
They eat only dead flesh! I recall reading in some book about a creature called the "hyena," with an ugly look and ugly appearance, which constantly feeds on carrion and crunches even the largest bones to splinters before swallowing them — the very thought is terrifying. The hyena is kin to the wolf, and the wolf is cousin to the dog. The other day the Zhao family's dog stared at me — clearly it too is in league with them and made arrangements long ago. The old man pretends to stare at the ground — does he think he can fool me?
Most pitiful of all is my elder brother: he too is a human being — why is he not the least bit afraid, but on the contrary joins in the conspiracy to eat me? Is it force of habit, because it has always been so, and he sees nothing wrong in it? Or has he lost his conscience and acts in full knowledge of his crime?
I curse the cannibals — beginning with him; and if I am to persuade the cannibals to turn from their ways, I shall likewise begin with him.
VIII
In truth they ought to have understood this principle long ago …
Suddenly a man came in, no more than twenty years old. I could not see his face clearly; he was all smiles and nodded to me, but his smile did not look genuine. I asked him: "Is it right to eat people?" Still smiling, he said: "It's not a famine year — how could anyone eat people?" I knew at once that he too was one of the gang, a willing cannibal; so, my courage redoubled, I pressed him:
"Is it right?"
"What kind of question is that? You really are … quite the joker. … Lovely weather today."
The weather is fine, and the moonlight is bright too. But I want to ask you: "Is it right?"
He did not think this proper. Mumbling vaguely, he answered: "No …"
"Not right? Then why do they go on doing it?!"
"There's no such thing …"
"No such thing? In Wolf Cub Village they're eating people right now — and it's written in the books too, in fresh red ink!"
His face changed; it turned iron-grey. He fixed me with his eyes and said: "Perhaps there is … it has always been this way …"
"Always been this way — does that make it right?"
"I don't want to discuss such things with you. In any case you shouldn't have said it; the moment you say it, you're in the wrong!"
I leapt to my feet and opened my eyes wide — but the man had vanished. I was drenched in sweat. He is much younger than my brother, yet he too belongs to the gang; his parents must have taught him. And I fear he has already passed it on to his own children; that is why even the little ones glare at me with such hatred.
IX
They want to eat people themselves, yet at the same time they are afraid of being eaten by others — and so they eye one another with looks of the deepest suspicion …
If only they would cast off this obsession, they could work, walk, eat, and sleep in perfect ease — what comfort that would be! It is only a single threshold, a single turning point. Yet they — fathers and sons, brothers, husbands and wives, friends, teachers and students, mortal enemies and total strangers — have all banded together, encouraging one another and holding one another back, preferring death to taking this one step.
X
Early in the morning I went to find my elder brother. He was standing outside the hall door, gazing at the sky. I stepped behind him, blocked the doorway, and said to him with particular calm and particular gentleness:
"Brother, I have something to tell you."
"Go ahead," he said hastily, turning to face me with a nod.
"It is only a few words, but I cannot get them out. Brother, in all likelihood, in the beginning, primitive people all ate a little human flesh at one time or another. Later, because their way of thinking changed, some stopped eating people and strove constantly to be good — they became human beings, true human beings. Others went on eating — just like insects: some evolved into fish, birds, apes, and finally into humans; others never strove to be good and remain insects to this day. How ashamed the cannibals must be before those who do not eat people! Far more ashamed, I dare say, than the insects before the apes.
"Yi Ya (易牙) cooked his own son and served him to the tyrants Jie and Zhou (桀紂) — but that was an affair of ancient times. Who knows how long it has gone on: ever since Pangu (盤古) separated heaven and earth, people have been eating each other without cease — from Yi Ya's son down to Xu Xilin (徐錫林); from Xu Xilin down to the man they caught in Wolf Cub Village. Last year, when they executed a criminal in the city, a consumptive soaked his steamed bun (饅頭) in the blood and licked it.
"They want to eat me — you alone can do nothing about it. But why must you join them? Cannibals are capable of anything; if they can eat me, they can eat you too — even within the gang they devour one another. But if only you would take a single step, if only you would change at once, then everyone would have peace. Although it has always been this way, we could resolve today to be especially good — and say it cannot be otherwise! Brother, I believe you can say it. The other day, when the tenant farmer asked for a rent reduction, you said it could not be done."
At first he merely smiled coldly. Then his expression turned savage, and when I laid bare their secret, his whole face went ashen. Outside the great gate stood a mob — Zhao Guiweng and his dog among them — all craning their necks and peering inward. Some I could not recognize, as though their faces were wrapped in cloth; others still wore the greenish complexion and jutting fangs, grinning with lips pressed tightly together. I knew them for what they were — a gang, all of them cannibals. But I also knew their minds were not all alike: some thought it had always been so and that one ought to eat; others knew one ought not to eat, yet wanted to do so all the same and feared only that someone might speak the truth — so when they heard my words, they grew all the more furious, yet they grinned coldly with lips pressed tight.
Then my elder brother suddenly assumed a savage expression and bellowed:
"Get out, all of you! What's there to see in a madman!"
At that moment I grasped another of their clever tricks. Not only were they unwilling to change — they had long since made preparations, having readied the label of "madman" to clap on me. When they eat me in the future, not only will there be no trouble, but there may even be people who feel sorry for me. When the tenant farmer told how everyone had eaten a villain together — that was precisely the same method. This is their time-honoured recipe!
Old Chen Wu came storming in, fuming. How could he silence me? I insisted on speaking to the mob:
"You can change — change from the bottom of your hearts! Know this: in the future there will be no place in this world for cannibals.
"If you do not change, you yourselves will be devoured. However many you breed, the true human beings will exterminate you — just as hunters finish off the wolves! Just as they stamp out the vermin!"
The whole mob was driven away by Old Chen Wu. My brother had disappeared somewhere too. Old Chen Wu urged me to return to my room. Inside, all was pitch black. The beams and rafters trembled above my head; they trembled for a while, then swelled and piled down upon me.
Infinitely heavy — I could not stir. He wanted me to die. But I knew the weight was an illusion, and I struggled free; sweat burst from every pore. Yet I insisted on saying:
"Change at once — change from the bottom of your hearts! Know this: in the future there will be no place for cannibals …"
XI
The sun does not rise; the door does not open. Day after day — two meals.
When I picked up my chopsticks, I thought of my elder brother; and then I understood the reason for my little sister's death — it was entirely his doing. My little sister was just five years old then — her sweet, pitiful face is still before my eyes. Mother wept without ceasing, but he urged her not to weep — probably because he had eaten her himself, and the weeping made him feel a twinge of guilt. If he could still feel guilt at all …
My little sister was eaten by my elder brother. Whether our mother knew, I cannot say.
Mother probably knew; yet when she wept, she did not speak of it — probably because she too thought it only natural. I remember when I was four or five years old, sitting on the veranda enjoying the cool of the evening, my brother said that when a father or mother is ill, a dutiful son must cut a piece of flesh from his own body, cook it, and serve it to them — only then could he be considered a good person. Mother did not say it was wrong. If one piece may be eaten, then the whole person may be eaten too. But the way she cried that day — when I think of it now, it still breaks my heart. Truly, this is a thing of the utmost strangeness!
XII
I can think of it no more.
For four thousand years, in this place, people have been eating one another without cease, and only today do I realize that I, too, have been living in their midst all these years. Just when my elder brother took over the household, our little sister happened to die. It is entirely possible that he mixed her into the food and fed her to us in secret.
It is entirely possible that I, unknowingly, ate several pieces of my little sister's flesh — and now it is my turn …
I, with my four-thousand-year history of cannibalism — though I did not know it at first, now that I understand, it is hard to look a true human being in the face!
XIII
Are there perhaps still children who have never eaten human flesh?
Save the children …
(April 1918.)