Lu Xun - Hot Wind
Hot Wind (热风)
Essay Collection by Lu Xun (鲁迅)
Period: 1918-1924
Section 1
[Hot Wind]
现在有谁经过西长安街一带的，总可以看见几个衣履破碎的穷苦孩子叫卖报纸。记得三四年前，在他们身上偶而还剩有制服模样的残余；再早，就更体面，简直是童子军的拟态。
那是中华民国八年，即西历一九一九年，五月四日北京学生对于山东问题的示威运动以后，因为当时散传单的是童子军，不知怎的竟惹了投机家的注意，童子军式的卖报孩子就出现了。其年十二月，日本公使小幡酉吉抗议排日运动，情形和今年大致相同；只是我们的卖报孩子却穿破了第一身新衣以后，便不再做，只见得年不如年地显出穷苦。
我在《新青年》的《随感录》中做些短评，还在这前一年，因为所评论的多是小问题，所以无可道，原因也大都忘却了。但就现在的文字看起来，除几条泛论之外，有的是对于扶乩、静坐、打拳而发的；有的是对于所谓“保存国粹”而发的；有的是对于那时旧官僚的以经验自豪而发的；有的是对于上海《时报》的讽刺画而发的。记得当时的《新青年》是正在四面受敌之中，我所对付的不过一小部分；其他大事，则本志具在，无须我多言。
五四运动之后，我没有写什么文字，现在已经说不清是不做，还是散失消灭的了。但那时革新运动，表面上却颇有些成功，于是主张革新的也就蓬蓬勃勃，而且有许多还就是在先讥笑，嘲骂《新青年》的人们，但他们却是另起了一个冠冕堂皇的名目：新文化运动。这也就是后来又将这名目反套在《新青年》身上，而又加以嘲骂讥笑的，正如笑骂白话文的人，往往自称最得风气之先，早经主张过白话文一样。
再后，更无可道了。只记得一九二一年中的一篇是对于所谓“虚无哲学”而发的；更后一年则大抵对于上海之所谓“国学家”而发，不知怎的那时忽而有许多人都自命为国学家了。
自《新青年》出版以来，一切应之而嘲骂改革，后来又赞成改革，后来又嘲骂改革者，现在拟态的制服早已破碎，显出自身的本相来了，真所谓“事实胜于雄辩”，又何待于纸笔喉舌的批评。所以我的应时的浅薄的文字，也应该置之不顾，一任其消灭的；但几个朋友却以为现状和那时并没有大两样，也还可以存留，给我编辑起来了。这正是我所悲哀的。我以为凡对于时弊的攻击，文字须与时弊同时灭亡，因为这正如白血轮之酿成疮疖一般，倘非自身也被排除，则当它的生命的存留中，也即证明着病菌尚在。
但如果凡我所写，的确都是冷的呢？则它的生命原来就没有，更谈不到中国的病证究竟如何。然而，无情的冷嘲和有情的讽刺相去本不及一张纸，对于周围的感受和反应，又大概是所谓“如鱼饮水冷暖自知”的；我却觉得周围的空气太寒冽了，我自说我的话，所以反而称之曰《热风》。
一九二五年十一月三日之夜，鲁迅。
在一年的尽头的深夜中，整理了这一年所写的杂感，竟比收在《热风》里的整四年中所写的还要多。意见大部分还是那样，而态度却没有那么质直了，措辞也时常弯弯曲曲，议论又往往执滞在几件小事情上，很足以贻笑于大方之家。然而那又有什么法子呢。我今年偏遇到这些小事情，而偏有执滞于小事情的脾气。
我知道伟大的人物能洞见三世，观照一切，历大苦恼，尝大欢喜，发大慈悲。但我又知道这必须深入山林，坐古树下，静观默想，得天眼通，离人间愈远遥，而知人间也愈深，愈广；于是凡有言说，也愈高，愈大；于是而为天人师。我幼时虽曾梦想飞空，但至今还在地上，救小创伤尚且来不及，那有余暇使心开意豁。立论都公允妥洽，平正通达，像“正人君子”一般；正如沾水小蜂，只在泥土上爬来爬去，万不敢比附洋楼中的通人，但也自有悲苦愤激，决非洋楼中的通人所能领会。
这病痛的根柢就在我活在人间，又是一个常人，能够交着“华盖运”。
我平生没有学过算命，不过听老年人说，人是有时要交“华盖运”的。这“华盖”在他们口头上大概已经讹作“镬盖”了，现在加以订正。所以，这运，在和尚是好运：顶有华盖，自然是成佛作祖之兆。但俗人可不行，华盖在上，就要给罩住了，只好碰钉子。我今年开手作杂感时，就碰了两个大钉子：一是为了《咬文嚼字》，一是为了《青年必读书》。署名和匿名的豪杰之士的骂信，收了一大捆，至今还塞在书架下。此后又突然遇见了一些所谓学者、文士、正人、君子等等，据说都是讲公话，谈公理，而且深不以“党同伐异”为然的。可惜我和他们太不同了，所以也就被他们伐了几下，——但这自然是为“公理”之故，和我的“党同伐异”不同。这样，一直到现下还没有完结，只好“以待来年”。
也有人劝我不要做这样的短评。那好意，我是很感激的，而且也并非不知道创作之可贵。然而要做这样的东西的时候，恐怕也还要做这样的东西，我以为如果艺术之宫里有这么麻烦的禁令，倒不如不进去；还是站在沙漠上，看看飞沙走石，乐则大笑，悲则大叫，愤则大骂，即使被沙砾打得遍身粗糙，头破血流，而时时抚摩自己的凝血，觉得若有花纹，也未必不及跟着中国的文士们去陪莎士比亚吃黄油面包之有趣。
然而只恨我的眼界小，单是中国，这一年的大事件也可以算是很多的了。我竟往往没有论及，似乎无所感触。我早就很希望中国的青年站出来，对于中国的社会，文明，都毫无忌惮地加以批评，因此曾编印《莽原周刊》，作为发言之地，可惜来说话的竟很少。在别的刊物上，倒大抵是对于反抗者的打击，这实在是使我怕敢想下去的。
现在是一年的尽头的深夜，深得这夜将尽了，我的生命，至少是一部分的生命，已经耗费在写这些无聊的东西中，而我所获得的，乃是我自己的灵魂的荒凉和粗糙。但是我并不惧惮这些，也不想遮盖这些，而且实在有些爱他们了，因为这是我转辗而生活于风沙中的瘢痕。凡有自己也觉得在风沙中转辗而生活着的，会知道这意思。
我编《热风》时，除遗漏的之外，又删去了好几篇。这一回却小有不同了，一时的杂感一类的东西，几乎都在这里面。
一九二五年十二月三十一日之夜，记于绿林书屋东壁下。
这里是一九三○年与三一年两年间的杂文的结集。
当三○年的时候，期刊已渐渐的少见，有些是不能按期出版了，大约是受了逐日加紧的压迫。《语丝》和《奔流》，则常遭邮局的扣留，地方的禁止，到底也还是敷延不下去。那时我能投稿的，就只剩了一个《萌芽》，而出到五期，也被禁止了，接着是出了一本《新地》。所以在这一年内，我只做了收在集内的不到十篇的短评。
此外还曾经在学校里演讲过两三回，那时无人记录，讲了些什么，此刻连自己也记不清楚了。只记得在有一个大学里演讲的题目，是《象牙塔和蜗牛庐》。大意是说，象牙塔里的文艺，将来决不会出现于中国，因为环境并不相同，这里是连摆这“象牙之塔”的处所也已经没有了；不久可以出现的，恐怕至多只有几个“蜗牛庐”。蜗牛庐者，是三国时所谓“隐逸”的焦先曾经居住的那样的草窠，大约和现在江北穷人手搭的草棚相仿，不过还要小，光光的伏在那里面，少出、少动、无衣、无食、无言。因为那时是军阀混战，任意杀掠的时候，心里不以为然的人，只有这样才可以苟延他的残喘。但蜗牛界里那里会有文艺呢，所以这样下去，中国的没有文艺，是一定的。这样的话，真可谓已经大有蜗牛气味的了，不料不久就有一位勇敢的青年在政府机关的上海《民国日报》上给我批评，说我的那些话使他非常看不起，因为我没有敢讲共产党的话的勇气。谨案在“清党”以后的党国里，讲共产主义是算犯大罪的，捕杀的网罗，张遍了全中国，而不讲，却又为党国的忠勇青年所鄙视。这实在只好变了真的蜗牛，才有“庶几得免于罪戾”的幸福了。
而这时左翼作家拿着苏联的卢布之说，在所谓“大报”和小报上，一面又纷纷的宣传起来，新月社的批评家也从旁很卖了些力气。有些报纸，还拾了先前的创造社派的几个人的投稿于小报上的话，讥笑我为“投降”，有一种报则载起《文坛贰臣传》来，第一个就是我，——但后来好象并不再做下去了。
卢布之谣，我是听惯了的。大约六七年前，《语丝》在北京说了几句涉及陈源教授和别的“正人君子”们的话的时候，上海的《晶报》上就发表过“现代评论社主角”唐有壬先生的信札，说是我们的言动，都由于墨斯科的命令，这又正是祖传的老谱，宋末有所谓“通虏”，清初又有所谓“通海”，向来就用了这类的口实，害过许多人们的。所以含血喷人，已成了中国士君子的常经，实在不单是他们的识见，只能够见到世上一切都靠金钱的势力。至于“贰臣”之说，却是很有些意思的，我试一反省，觉得对于时事，即使未尝动笔，有时也不免于腹诽，“臣罪当诛兮天皇圣明”，腹诽就决不是忠臣的行径。但御用文学家的给了我这个徽号，也可见他们的“文坛”上是有皇帝的了。
去年偶然看见了几篇梅林格（Franz Mehring）的论文，大意说，在坏了下去的旧社会里，倘有人怀一点不同的意见，有一点携贰的心思，是一定要大吃其苦的。而攻击陷害得最凶的，则是这人的同阶级的人物。他们以为这是最可恶的叛逆，比异阶级的奴隶造反还可恶，所以一定要除掉他。我才知道中外古今，无不如此，真是读书可以养气，竟没有先前那样“不满于现状”了，并且仿《三闲集》之例而变其意，拾来做了这一本书的名目。然而这并非在证明我是无产者。一阶级里，临末也常常会自己互相闹起来的，就是《诗经》里说过的那“兄弟阋于墙”，——但后来却未必“外御其侮”。例如同是军阀，就总在整年的大家相打，难道有一面是无产阶级么？而且我时时说些自己的事情，怎样地在“碰壁”，怎样地在做蜗牛，好象全世界的苦恼，萃于一身，在替大众受罪似的，也正是中产的智识阶级分子的坏脾气。只是原先是憎恶这熟识的本阶级，毫不可惜它的溃灭，后来又由于事实的教训，以为惟新兴的无产者才有将来，却是的确的。
自从一九三一年二月起，我写了较上年更多的文章，但因为揭载的刊物有些不同，文字必得和它们相称，就很少做《热风》那样简短的东西了；而且看看对于我的批评文字，得了一种经验，好象评论做得太简括，是极容易招得无意的误解，或有意的曲解似的。又，此后也不想再编《坟》那样的论文集，和《壁下译丛》那样的译文集，这回就连较长的东西也收在这里面，译文则选了一篇《现代电影与有产阶级》附在末尾，因为电影之在中国，虽然早已风行，但这样扼要的论文却还少见，留心世事的人们，实在很有一读的必要的。还有通信，如果只有一面，读者也往往很不容易了然，所以将紧要一点的几封来信，也擅自一并编进去了。
一九三二年四月三十日之夜，编讫并记。
一 先生自民国元年五月抵京之日始，即写日记，从无间断，凡天气之变化如阴、晴、风雨，人事之交际如友朋过从，信札往来，书籍购入，均详载无遗，他日付印，足供参考。故年谱之编，力求简短，仅举荦荦大端而已。
二 先生著作既多，译文亦富，另有著译书目，按年排比，故本谱于此二项，仅记大略，未及详写。
三 先生著译之外，复勤于纂辑古书，钞录古碑，书写均极精美，谱中亦不备举。
四 先生工作毕生不倦，如编辑各种刊物，以及为人校订稿件之类，必忠必信，贡献亦多，谱中亦从略不述。
五 本谱材料，有奉询于先生母太夫人者，亦有得于夫人许广平及令弟作人建人者，合并声明。
二十六年五月 日 许寿裳记
民国前三十一年 （清光绪七年辛巳西历
一八八一年） 先生一岁
八月初三日，生于浙江绍兴城内东昌坊口。姓周，名树人，字豫才，小名樟寿，至三十八岁，始用鲁迅为笔名。
前二十六年 （十二年丙戌
一八八六年） 六岁
是年入塾，从从叔祖玉田先生初诵《鉴略》。
前二十四年 十四岁戊子
一八八八年 八岁
十一月，以妹端生十月即夭，当其病笃时，先生在屋隅暗泣，母太夫人询其何故，答曰：
“为妹妹啦。”
Section 2
[Abschnitt / Section]
是岁一日，本家长辈相聚推牌九，父伯宜公亦与焉。先生在旁默视，从伯慰农先生因询之曰：“汝愿何人得赢？”先生立即对曰：“愿大家均赢。”其五六岁时，宗党皆呼之曰“胡羊尾巴”。誉其小而灵活也。
前二十年 十八年壬辰
一八九二年 十二岁
正月，往三味书屋从寿镜吾先生怀鉴读。
在塾中，喜乘闲描画，并搜集图画，而对于二十四孝图之“老莱娱亲”、“郭巨埋儿”独生反感。
先生外家为安桥头鲁姓，聚族而居，幼时常随母太夫人前往，得在乡村与大自然相接触，影响甚大。《社戏》中所描写者，皆安桥头一带之景色，时正十一二岁也。外家后迁皇甫庄，小皋步等处。
十二月三十日曾祖母戴太君卒，年七十九。
前十九年 十九年癸巳 十三岁
一八九三年
三月祖父介孚公丁忧，自北京归。
秋，介孚公因事下狱，父伯宜公又抱重病，家产中落，出入于质铺及药店者累年。
前十六年 廿二年丙申 十六岁
一八九六年
九月初六日父伯宜公卒，年三十七。
父卒后，家境益艰。
前十四年 廿四年戊戌 十八岁
一八九八年
闰三月，往南京考入江南水师学堂。
前十三年 廿五年己亥 十九岁
一八九九年
正月，改入江南陆师学堂附设路矿学堂，对于功课并不温习，而每逢考试辄列前茅。
课余辄读译本新书，尤好小说，时或外出骑马。
前十一年 廿七年辛丑 二十一岁
一九〇一年
十二月，路矿学堂毕业。
前十年 廿八年壬寅 二十二岁
一九〇二年
二月，由江南督练公所派赴日本留学，入东京弘文学院。
课余喜读哲学与文艺之书，尤注意于人性及国民性问题。
前九年 廿九年癸卯 二十三岁
一九○三年
是年为《浙江潮》杂志撰文。
秋，译《月界旅行》毕。
前八年 三十年甲辰 二十四岁
一九〇四年
六月初一日，祖父介孚公卒，年六十八。
八月，往仙台入医学专门学校肄业。
前六年 三十二年丙年 二十六岁
一九〇六年
六月回家，与山阴朱女士结婚。
同月，复赴日本，在东京研究文艺，中止学医。
前五年 三十三年丁末 二十七岁
一九〇七年
是年夏，拟创办文艺杂志，名曰《新生》，以费绌未印，后为《河南》杂志撰文。
前四年 三十四年戊申 二十八岁
一九〇八年
是年从章太炎先生炳麟学，为“光复会”会员，并与二弟作人译域外小说。
前三年 宣统元年己酉 二十九岁
一九○九年
是年辑印《域外小说集》二册。
六月归国，任浙江两级师范学堂生理学化学教员。
前二年 二年庚戌 三十岁
一九一〇年
四月初五日祖母蒋太君卒，年六十九。
八月，任绍兴中学堂教员兼监学。
前一年 三年辛亥 三十一岁
一九一一年
九月绍兴光复，任绍兴师范学校校长。
冬，写成第一篇试作小说《怀旧》，阅二年始发表于《小说月报》第四卷第一号。
注：以上月分均系阴历。
民国元年 一九一二年 三十二岁
一月一日，临时政府成立于南京，膺教育总长蔡元培之招，任教育部部员。
五月，航海抵北京，住宣武门外南半截胡同绍兴会馆藤花馆，任教育部社会教育司第一科科长。八月任命为教育部佥事。
是月公余纂辑谢承《后汉书》。
二年 一九一三年 三十三岁
六月，请假由津浦路回家省亲，八月由海道返京。
十月，公余校《嵇康集》。
三年 一九一四年 三十四岁
是年公余研究佛经。
四年 一九一五年 三十五岁
一月辑成《会稽郡故书杂集》一册，用二弟作人名印行。
同月刻《百喻经》成。
是年公余喜搜集并研究金石拓本。
五年 一九一六年 三十六岁
五月，移居会馆补树书屋。
十二月，请假由津浦路归省。
是年仍搜集研究造象及墓志拓本。
六年 一九一七年 三十七岁
一月初，返北京。
七月初，因张勋复辟乱作，愤而离职，同月乱平即返部。
是年仍搜集研究拓本。
七年 一九一八年 三十八岁
自四月开始创作以后，源源不绝，其第一篇小说《狂人日记》，以鲁迅为笔名，载在《新青年》第四卷第五号，掊击家族制度与礼教之弊害，实为文学革命思想革命之急先锋。
是年仍搜罗研究拓本。
八年 一九一九年 三十九岁
一月发表关于爱情之意见，题曰《随感录四十》，载在《新青年》第六卷第一号，后收入杂感录《热风》。
八月买公用库八道湾屋成，十一月修缮之事略备，与二弟作人俱移入。
十月发表关于改革家庭与解放子女之意见，题曰《我们现在怎样做父亲》，载《新青年》第六卷第六号，后收入论文集《坟》。
十二月请假经津浦路归省，奉母偕三弟建人来京。
是年仍搜罗研究拓本。
九年 一九二〇年 四十岁
一月，译成日本武者小路实笃著戏曲《一个青年的梦》。
十月译成俄国阿尔志跋绥夫著小说《工人绥惠略夫》。
是年秋季起，兼任北京大学及北京高等师范学校讲师。
是年仍研究金石拓本。
十年 一九二一年 四十一岁
二三两月又校《嵇康集》。
仍兼任北京大学，北京高等师范学校讲师。
十一年 一九二二年 四十二岁
二月八月又校《嵇康集》。
五月译成俄国爱罗先珂著童话剧《桃色的云》。
仍兼任北京大学，北京高等师范学校讲师。
十二年 一九二三年 四十三岁
八月迁居砖塔胡同六十一号。
九月小说第一集《呐喊》印成。
十二月买阜成门内西三条胡同二十一号屋。
同月，《中国小说史略》上卷印成。
是年秋起，兼任北京大学，北京师范大学，北京女子高等师范学校及世界语专门学校讲师。
十三年 一九二四年 四十四岁
五月，移居西三条胡同新屋。
六月，《中国小说史略》下卷印成。
同月又校《嵇康集》，并撰校正《嵇康集》序。
七月往西安讲演，八月返京。
十月译成日本厨川白村著论文《苦闷的象征》。
仍兼任北京大学，北京师范大学，北京女子高等师范学校及世界语专门学校讲师。
是年冬起为《语丝》周刊撰文。
十四年 一九二五年 四十五岁
八月，因教育总长章士钊非法解散北京女子师范大学，先生与多数教职员有校务维持会之组织，被章士钊违法免职。
十一月杂感第一集《热风》印成。
十二月译成日本厨川白村著《出了象牙之塔》。
是年仍为《语丝》撰文，并编辑《国民新报》副刊及《莽原》杂志。
是年秋起，兼任北京大学，北京女子师范大学，中国大学讲师，黎明中学教员。
十五年 一九二六年 四十六岁
一月女子师范大学恢复，新校长易培基就职，先生始卸却职责。
同月教育部佥事恢复，到部任事。
三月，“三一八”惨杀案后，避难入山本医院，德国医院，法国医院等，至五月始回寓。
七月起，逐日往中央公园，与齐宗颐同译《小约翰》。
八月底，离北京向厦门，任厦门大学文科教授。
九月《彷徨》印成。
十二月因不满于学校，辞职。
十六年 一九二七年 四十七岁
一月至广州，任中山大学文学系主任兼教务主任。
二月往香港演说，题为：《无声的中国》，次日演题：《老调子已经唱完！》
三月黄花节，往岭南大学讲演。同日移居白云楼。
四月至黄埔政治学校讲演。
同月十五日，赴中山大学各主任紧急会议，营救被捕学生，无效，辞职。
七月演讲于知用中学，及市教育局主持之“学术讲演会”，题目为《读书杂谈》，《魏晋风度及文章与药及酒之关系》。
八月开始编纂《唐宋传奇集》。
十月抵上海。八日，移寓景云里二十三号，与番禺许广平女士同居。
同月《野草》印成。
沪上学界，闻先生至，纷纷请往讲演，如劳动大学，立达学园，复旦大学，暨南大学，大夏大学，中华大学，光华大学等。
十二月应大学院院长蔡元培之聘，任特约著作员。
同月《唐宋传奇集》上册出版。
十七年 一九二八年 四十八岁
二月《小约翰》印成。
同月为《北新月刊》译《近代美术史潮论》，及《语丝》编辑。
《唐宋传奇集》下册印成。
五月往江湾实验中学讲演，题曰：《老而不死论》。
六月《思想·山水·人物》译本出。《奔流》创刊号出版。
十一月短评《而已集》印成。
十八年 一九二九年 四十九岁
一月与王方仁，崔真吾，柔石等合资印刷文艺书籍及木刻《艺苑朝花》，简称朝花社。
五月《壁下译丛》印成。
同月十三，北上省亲并应燕京大学，北京大学，第二师范学院，第一师范学院等校讲演。
六月五日回抵沪上。
同月卢那卡尔斯基作《艺术论》译成出版。
九月二十七日晨，生一男。
十月一日名孩子曰海婴。
同月为柔石校订中篇小说《二月》。
同月卢那卡尔斯基作《文艺与批评》译本印成。
十二月往暨南大学讲演。
十九年 一九三〇年 五十岁
一月朝花社告终。
同月与友人合编《萌芽》月刊出版。开始译《毁灭》。
二月“自由大同盟”开成立会。
三月二日参加“左翼作家联盟成立会”。
此时浙江省党部呈请通缉“反动文人鲁迅”。
“自由大同盟”被严压，先生离寓避难。
同时牙齿肿痛，全行拔去，易以义齿。
四月回寓。与神州国光社订约编译《现代文艺丛书》。
五月十二日迁入北四川路楼寓。
八月往“夏期文艺讲习会”讲演。
同月译雅各武莱夫长篇小说《十月》讫。
九月为贺非校订《静静的顿河》毕，过劳发热。
同月十七日，在荷兰西菜室，赴数友发起之先生五十岁纪念会。
十月四五两日，与内山完造同开“版画展览会”于北四川路“购买组合”第一店楼上。
同月译《药用植物》讫。
十一月修正《中国小说史略》。
二十年 一九三一年 五十一岁
一月二十日柔石被逮，先生离寓避难。
二月梅斐尔德《士敏土之图》印成。
同月二十八日回旧寓。
三月，先生主持“左联”机关杂志《前哨》出版。
Section 3
In April he went to the Tongwen Academy to give a lecture entitled: "Hooligans and Literature."
In June he gave a lecture at the Japanese "Women's Friends Association."
In July he finished explaining the entire "Brief History of Chinese Fiction" for Masuda Wataru.
In the same month he went to the "Social Science Research Association" to deliver the lecture "A Glimpse of Shanghai's Literature and Art."
On August 17 he asked Mr. Uchiyama Kakichi to teach students woodcut techniques, with the Master himself translating, which was completed on the 22nd. On the 24th he gave a lecture for the woodcut section of the "Eighteen Art Society."
In November he collated "The Collected Works of Ji Kang" against the Song dynasty reprint of the Hanfenlou Library.
In the same month the printing of "Destruction" was completed.
In December he co-edited with friends the ten-day periodical "At the Crossroads."
Twenty-first Year [of the Republic] -- 1932 -- Fifty-two years old
On January 29 he was caught in the crossfire during hostilities. The next day he took refuge in the Uchiyama Bookstore.
On February 6, escorted by a staff member of the Uchiyama Bookstore, he was taken to the Uchiyama branch in the English Concession for temporary shelter.
In April he compiled his short essays from 1928 and 1929, calling them: "Collection of Three Idlers." His miscellaneous writings from 1930 to 1931 he collected under the title "Collection of Two Hearts."
In May he compiled his own bibliography of translations and writings.
In September he finished compiling and translating the first volume of an anthology of twenty modern Russian fiction writers, which he called "The Harp." The second volume, also completed, he called "A Day's Work."
In October he arranged "Letters Between Two Places."
On November 9 he traveled to Beiping because of his mother's illness.
From the 22nd of the same month, he gave lectures at Peking University, Fu Jen University, Beiping University, the Women's College of Arts and Sciences, Normal University, China University, and other institutions.
Twenty-second Year [of the Republic] -- 1933 -- Fifty-three years old
On January 4, Cai Yuanpei invited him by letter to join the "China League for Civil Rights"; he was elected a member of the executive committee.
On February 17, Cai Yuanpei invited him by letter to Song Qingling's residence to welcome George Bernard Shaw.
In March "Lu Xun's Self-Selected Works" was published by Tianma Bookstore.
On the 27th of the same month he moved his books to Dixwei Road, renting a house for their storage.
On April 11 he moved to No. 9, Dalu New Village.
On May 13 he went to the German Consulate to submit a protest against the atrocities of the "Fascists."
On June 20, Yang Quan was assassinated; he went to the International Funeral Home for the laying out of the body. There were rumors at the time that the Master too would not be spared, and some tried to dissuade him from going, but he would not be deterred; he left without taking his house key, to show his resolve.
In July the monthly magazine "Literature" was launched; the Master was one of the contributors.
In October the woodcut picture sequence "One Man's Suffering," edited and prefaced by him, was printed.
In the same month the "Woodcut Exhibition" was held at Qianai Lane.
Also the collection of short essays "Pseudo-Free Book" was printed.
Twenty-third Year [of the Republic] -- 1934 -- Fifty-four years old
In January "The Beijing Letter Paper Album" was published.
In May he proofread the essay collection "Southern Tones and Northern Melodies," which was printed the same month.
In May the woodcut collection "Luring Jade," edited and prefaced by him, was published.
In August he edited the inaugural issue of the magazine "Translation."
On the 23rd of the same month, because of the arrest of an acquaintance, he left his residence to seek safety.
In October "Woodcut Chronicle" was printed.
On December 14 at night, back pain and night sweats. After the illness he grew very thin; his dentures no longer fit his gums.
In the same month the collection of short essays "Quasi-Wind-and-Moon Talks" was published.
Twenty-fourth Year [of the Republic] -- 1935 -- Fifty-five years old
In January he finished translating the Soviet fairy tale "The Clock" by Panteleev.
In February he began translating Gogol's "Dead Souls."
In April the first volume of "The Letter Paper Album of the Ten Bamboo Studio" was printed.
In June he finished selecting and writing the introduction for the second volume of fiction in the "Anthology of New Literature"; it was printed.
In September the translation of Gorky's "Russian Fairy Tales" was published.
In October he edited the first volume of Qu Qiubai's posthumous writings: "Forest Voices from the Sea."
In November he continued writing "Old Tales Retold."
In December he compiled the woodcut edition of "One Hundred Illustrations of Dead Souls" and wrote a preface.
Twenty-fifth Year [of the Republic] -- 1936 -- Fifty-six years old
In January, severe pain in shoulders and ribs.
On the 20th of the same month the fortnightly "Petrel," co-founded with friends, was published.
Also he finished proofreading "Old Tales Retold"; the book appeared immediately.
In February he began the continuation of translating Part Two of "Dead Souls."
On March 2 in the afternoon, a sudden asthma attack.
On April 7 he went to the Liangyou Company to select "Soviet Prints" for them.
In the same month he edited the second volume of "Forest Voices from the Sea."
On May 15 another attack of illness; the doctor diagnosed a stomach ailment. Thereafter the fever persisted. On the 31st, Miss Smedley brought the American Dr. Dunn for examination; the condition was extremely critical.
In June, he gradually recovered from his prostration and could sit up a little, stand and read. He was able to write a few dozen characters.
In the same month, while ill, he answered a visitor O.V.'s question: "On Our Present Literary Movement."
Also "Marginalia" was printed.
In July the "Selected Prints of Kaethe Kollwitz," edited and printed by him, was published.
In August, blood in the sputum.
He wrote a short piece for the inaugural issue of "Zhongliu" (In Midstream).
In October his weight was eighty-eight pounds, approximately two pounds more than on August 1.
The translation of Chekhov's "Bad Boys and Other Strange Stories" was published.
He could occasionally go out to see films and pay brief visits to friends.
On the 8th of the same month he visited the second "National Traveling Woodcut Exhibition" at the YMCA.
On the 17th he visited Kaji Wataru and Uchiyama Kanzo.
On the 18th, before dawn, the illness struck; incessant asthma, until he passed away at five twenty-five in the morning on the 19th.
Section 4
[“硬译”与“文学的阶级性”]
一
听说《新月》月刊团体里的人们在说，现在销路好起来了。这大概是真的，以我似的交际极少的人，也在两个年青朋友的手里见过第二卷第六、七号的合本。顺便一翻，是争“言论自由”的文字和小说居多。近尾巴处，则有梁实秋先生的一篇《论鲁迅先生的“硬译”》，以为“近于死译”。而“死译之风也断不可长”，就引了我的三段译文，以及在《文艺与批评》的后记里所说：“但因为译者的能力不够，和中国文本来的缺点，译完一看，晦涩，甚而至于难解之处也真多；倘将仂句拆下来呢，又失了原来的语气，在我，是除了还是这样的硬译之外，只有束手这一条路了，所余的惟一的希望，只在读者还肯硬着头皮看下去而已”这些话，细心地在字旁加上圆圈，还在“硬译”两字旁边加上套圈，于是“严正”地下了“批评”道：“我们‘硬着头皮看下去’了，但是无所得。‘硬译’和‘死译’有什么分别呢？”
新月社的声明中，虽说并无什么组织，在论文里，也似乎痛恶无产阶级式的“组织”、“集团”这些话，但其实是有组织的，至少，关于政治的论文，这一本里都互相“照应”；关于文艺，则这一篇是登在上面的同一批评家所作的《文学是有阶级性的吗？》的余波。在那一篇里有一段说：“……但是不幸得很，没有一本这类的书能被我看懂。……最使我感得困难的是文字，……简直读起来比天书还难。……现在还没有一个中国人，用中国人所能看得懂的文字，写一篇文章告诉我们无产文学的理论究竟是怎么一回事。”字旁也有圆圈，怕排印麻烦，恕不照画了。总之，梁先生自认是一切中国人的代表，这些书既为自己所不懂，也就是为一切中国人所不懂，应该在中国断绝其生命，于是出示曰：“此风断不可长”云。
别的“天书”译著者的意见我不能代表，从我个人来看，则事情是不会这样简单的。第一、梁先生自以为“硬着头皮看下去”了，但究竟硬了没有，是否能够，还是一个问题。以硬自居了，而实则其软如棉，正是新月社的一种特色。第二、梁先生虽自来代表一切中国人了，但究竟是否全国中的最优秀者，也是一个问题。这问题从《文学是有阶级性的吗？》这篇文章里，便可以解释。Proletary这字不必译音，大可译义，是有理可说的。但这位批评家却道：“其实翻翻字典，这个字的涵义并不见得体面，据《韦白斯特大字典》，Proletary的意思就是：A citizen of the lowest class who served the state not with property，but only by having children.……普罗列塔利亚是国家里只会生孩子的阶级！（至少在罗马时代是如此）”其实正无须来争这“体面”，大约略有常识者，总不至于以现在为罗马时代，将现在的无产者都看作罗马人的。这正如将Chemie译作“舍密学”，读者必不和埃及的“炼金术”混同，对于“梁”先生所作的文章，也决不会去考查语源，误解为“独木小桥”竟会动笔一样。连“翻翻字典”（《韦白斯特大字典》！）也还是“无所得”，一切中国人未必全是如此的罢。
二
但于我最觉得有兴味的，是上节所引的梁先生的文字里，有两处都用着一个“我们”，颇有些“多数”和“集团”气味了。自然，作者虽然单独执笔，气类则决不只一人，用“我们”来说话，是不错的，也令人看起来较有力量，又不至于一人双肩负责。然而，当“思想不能统一”时，“言论应该自由”时，正如梁先生的批评资本制度一般，也有一种“弊病”。就是，既有“我们”便有我们以外的“他们”，于是新月社的“我们”虽以为我的“死译之风断不可长”了，却另有读了并不“无所得”的读者存在，而我的“硬译”，就还在“他们”之间生存，和“死译”还有一些区别。
我也就是新月社的“他们”之一，因为我的译作和梁先生所需的条件，是全都不一样的。
那一篇《论硬译》的开头论误译胜于死译说：“一部书断断不会完全曲译……部分的曲译即使是错误，究竟也还给你一个错误，这个错误也许真是害人无穷的，而你读的时候究竟还落个爽快。”末两句大可以加上夹圈，但我却从来不干这样的勾当。我的译作，本不在博读者的“爽快”，却往往给以不舒服，甚而至于使人气闷，憎恶，愤恨。读了会“落个爽快”的东西，自有新月社的人们的译著在：徐志摩先生的诗，沈从文、凌叔华先生的小说，陈西滢（即陈源）先生的闲话，梁实秋先生的批评，潘光旦先生的优生学，还有白璧德先生的人文主义。
所以，梁先生后文说：“这样的书，就如同看地图一般，要伸着手指来寻找句法的线索位置”这些话，在我也就觉得是废话，虽说犹如不说了。是的，由我说来，要看“这样的书”就如同看地图一样，要伸着手指来找寻“句法的线索位置”的。看地图虽然没有看《杨妃出浴图》或《岁寒三友图》那么“爽快”，甚而至于还须伸着手指（其实这恐怕梁先生自己如此罢了，看惯地图的人，是只用眼睛就可以的），但地图并不是死图；所以“硬译”即使有同一之劳，照例子也就和“死译”有了些“什么区别”。识得ABCD者自以为新学家，仍旧和化学方程式无关，会打算盘的自以为数学家，看起笔算的演草来还是无所得。现在的世间，原不是一为学者，便与一切事都会有缘的。
然而梁先生有实例在，举了我三段的译文，虽然明知道“也许因为没有上下文的缘故，意思不能十分明了”。在《文学是有阶级性的吗？》这篇文章中，也用了类似手段，举出两首译诗来，总评道：“也许伟大的无产文学还没有出现，那么我愿意等着，等着，等着。”这些方法，诚然是很“爽快”的，但我可以就在这一本《新月》月刊里的创作──是创作
呀！──《搬家》第八页上，举出一段文字来──
“小鸡有耳朵没有？”
“我没看见过小鸡长耳朵的。”
“它怎样听见我叫它呢？”她想到前天四婆告诉她的耳朵是管听东西，眼是管看东西的。
“这个蛋是白鸡黑鸡？”枝儿见四婆没答她，站起来摸着蛋子又问。
“现在看不出来，等孵出小鸡才知道。”
“婉儿姊说小鸡会变大鸡，这些小鸡也会变大鸡么？”
“好好的喂它就会长大了，像这个鸡买来时还没有这样大吧？”
也够了，“文字”是懂得的，也无须伸出手指来寻线索，但我不“等着”了，以为就这一段看，是既不“爽快”，而且和不创作是很少区别的。
临末，梁先生还有一个诘问：“中国文和外国文是不同的，……翻译之难即在这个地方。假如两种文中的文法句法词法完全一样，那么翻译还成为一件工作吗？……我们不妨把句法变换一下，以使读者能懂为第一要义，因为‘硬着头皮’不是一件愉快的事，并且‘硬译’也不见得能保存，‘原来的精悍的语气’。假如‘硬译’而还能保存‘原来的精悍的语气’，那真是一件奇迹，还能说中国文是有‘缺点’吗？”我倒不见得如此之愚，要寻求和中国文相同的外国文，或者希望“两种文中的文法句法词法完全一样”。我但以为文法繁复的国语，较易于翻译外国文，语系相近的，也较易于翻译，而且也是一种工作。荷兰翻德国，俄国翻波兰，能说这和并不工作没有什么区别么？日本语和欧美很“不同”，但他们逐渐添加了新句法，比起古文来，更宜于翻译而不失原来的精悍的语气，开初自然是须“找寻句法的线索位置”，很给了一些人不“愉快”的，但经找寻和习惯，现在已经同化，成为己有了。中国的文法，比日本的古文还要不完备，然而也曾有些变迁，例如《史》、《汉》不同于《书经》，现在的白话文又不同于《史》、《汉》；有添造，例如唐译佛经，元译上谕，当时很有些“文法句法词法”是生造的，一经习用，便不必伸出手指，就懂得了。现在又来了“外国文”，许多句子，即也须新造，──说得坏点，就是硬造。据我的经验，这样译来，较之化为几句，更能保存原来的精悍的语气，但因为有待于新造，所以原先的中国文是有缺点的。有什么“奇迹”，干什么“吗”呢？但有待于“伸出手指”，“硬着头皮”，于有些人自然“不是一件愉快的事”。不过我是本不想将“爽快”或“愉快”来献给那些诸公的，只要还有若干的读者能够有所得，梁实秋先生“们”的苦乐以及无所得，实在“于我如浮云”。
但梁先生又有本不必求助于无产文学理论，而仍然很不了了的地方，例如他说，“鲁迅先生前些年翻译的文学，例如厨川白村的《苦闷的象征》，还不是令人看不懂的东西，但是最近翻译的书似乎改变风格了。”只要有些常识的人就知道：“中国文和外国文是不同的”，但同是一种外国文，因为作者各人的做法，而“风格”和“句法的线索位置”也可以很不同。句子可繁可简，名词可常可专，决不会一种外国文，易解的程度就都一式。我的译《苦闷的象征》，也和现在一样，是按板规逐句，甚而至于逐字译的，然而梁实秋先生居然以为还能看懂者，乃是原文原是易解的缘故，也因为梁实秋先生是中国新的批评家了的缘故，也因为其中硬造的句法，是比较地看惯了的缘故。若在三家村里，专读《古文观止》的学者们，看起来又何尝不比“天书”还难呢？
三
但是，这回的“比天书还难”的无产文学理论的译本们，却给了梁先生不小的影响。看不懂了，会有影响，虽然好象滑稽，然而是真的，这位批评家在《文学是有阶级性的吗？》里说：“我现在批评所谓无产文学理论，也只能根据我所能了解的一点材料而已。”这就是说：因此而对于这理论的知识，极不完全了。
但对于这罪过，我们（包含一切“天书”译者在内，故曰“们”）也只能负一部分的责任，一部分是要作者自己的胡涂或懒惰来负的。“什么卢那卡尔斯基、蒲力汗诺夫”的书我不知道，若夫“婆格达诺夫之类”的三篇论文和托罗兹基的半部《文学与革命》，则确有英文译本的了。英国没有“鲁迅先生”，译文定该非常易解。梁先生对于伟大的无产文学的产生，曾经显示其“等着，等着，等着”的耐心和勇气，这回对于理论，何不也等一下子，寻来看了再说呢。不知其有而不求曰胡涂，知其有而不求曰懒惰，如果单是默坐，这样也许是“爽快”的。然而开起口来，却很容易咽进冷气去了。
例如就是那篇《文学是有阶级性的吗？》的高文，结论是并无阶级性。要抹杀阶级性，我以为最干净的是吴稚晖先生的“什么马克斯牛克斯”以及什么先生的“世界上并没有阶级这东西”的学说。那么，就万喙息响，天下太平。但梁先生却中了一些“什么马克斯”毒了，先承认了现在许多地方是资产制度，在这制度之下则有无产者。不过这“无产者本来并没有阶级的自觉。是几个过于富同情心而又态度偏激的领袖把这个阶级观念传授了给他们”，要促起他们的联合，激发他们争斗的欲念。不错，但我以为传授者应该并非由于同情，却因了改造世界的思想。况且“本无其物”的东西，是无从自觉，无从激发的，会自觉，能激发，足见那是原有的东西。原有的东西，就遮掩不久，即如格里莱阿说地体运动，达尔文说生物进化，当初何尝不或者几被宗教家烧死，或者大受保守者攻击呢，然而现在人们对于两说，并不为奇者，就因为地体终于在运动，生物确也在进化的缘故。承认其有而要掩饰为无，非有绝技是不行的。
但梁先生自有消除斗争的办法，以为如卢梭所说：“资产是文明的基础”，“所以攻击资产制度，即是反抗文明”，“一个无产者假如他是有出息的，只消辛辛苦苦诚诚实实的工作一生，多少必定可以得到相当的资产。这才是正当的生活斗争的手段。”我想，卢梭去今虽已百五十年，但当不至于以为过去未来的文明，都以资产为基础。（但倘说以经济关系为基础，那自然是对的。）希腊、印度，都有文明，而繁盛时俱非在资产社会，他大概是知道的；倘不知道，那也是他的错误。至于无产者应该“辛辛苦苦”爬上有产阶级去的“正当”的方法，则是中国有钱的老太爷高兴时候，教导穷工人的古训，在实际上，现今正在“辛辛苦苦诚诚实实”想爬上一级去的“无产者”也还多。然而这是还没有人“把这个阶级观念传授了给他们”的时候。一经传授，他们可就不肯一个一个的来爬了，诚如梁先生所说，“他们是一个阶级了，他们要有组织了，他们是一个集团了，于是他们便不循常轨的一跃而夺取政权财权，一跃而为统治阶级。”但可还有想“辛辛苦苦诚诚实实工作一生，多少必定可以得到相当的资产”的“无产者”呢？自然还有的。然而他要算是“尚未发财的有产者”了。梁先生的忠告，将为无产者所呕吐了，将只好和老太爷去互相赞赏而已了。
Section 5
[Hard Translation (cont.)]
那么，此后如何呢？梁先生以为是不足虑的。因为“这种革命的现象不能是永久的，经过自然进化之后，优胜劣败的定律又要证明了，还是聪明才力过人的人占优越的地位，无产的仍是无产者”。但无产阶级大概也知道“反文明的势力早晚要被文明的势力所征服”，所以“要建立所谓‘无产阶级文化’，……这里面包括文艺学术”。
自此以后，这才入了文艺批评的本题。
四
梁先生首先以为无产者文学理论的错误，是“在把阶级的束缚加在文学上面，”因为一个资本家和一个劳动者，有不同的地方，但还有相同的地方，“他们的人性（这两字原本有套圈）并没有两样”，例如都有喜怒哀乐，都有恋爱（但所“说的是恋爱的本身，不是恋爱的方式”），“文学就是表现这最基本的人性的艺术”。这些话是矛盾而空虚的。既然文明以资产为基础，穷人以竭力爬上去为“有出息”，那么，爬上是人生的要谛，富翁乃人类的至尊，文学也只要表现资产阶级就够了，又何必如此“过于富同情心”。一并包括“劣败”的无产者？况且“人性”的“本身”，又怎样表现的呢？譬如原质或杂质的化学底性质，有化合力，物理学底性质有硬度，要显示这力和度数，是须用两种物质来表现的，倘说要不用物质而显示化合力和硬度的单单“本身”，无此妙法；但一用物质，这现象即又因物质而不同。文学不藉人，也无以表示“性”，一用人，而且还在阶级社会里，即断不能免掉所属的阶级性，无需加以“束缚”，实乃出于必然。自然，“喜怒哀乐，人之情也”，然而穷人决无开交易所折本的懊恼，煤油大王那会知道北京检煤渣老婆子身受的酸辛，饥区的灾民，大约总不去种兰花，像阔人的老太爷一样，贾府上的焦大，也不爱林妹妹的。“汽笛呀！列宁呀！”固然并不就是无产文学，然而“一切东西呀！”“一切人呀！”“可喜的事来了，人喜了呀！”也不是表现“人性”的“本身”的文学。倘以表现最普通的人性的文学为至高，则表现最普遍的动物性──营养，呼吸，运动，生殖──的文学，或者除去“运动”，表现生物性的文学，必当更在其上。倘说，因为我们是人，所以以表现人性为限，那么，无产者就因为是无产阶级，所以要做无产文学。
其次，梁先生说作者的阶级，和作品无关。托尔斯泰出身贵族，而同情于贫民，然而并不主张阶级斗争；马克斯并非无产阶级中的人物；终身穷苦的约翰孙博士，志行吐属，过于贵族。所以估量文学，当看作品本身，不能连累到作者的阶级和身分。这些例子，也全不足以证明文学的无阶级性的。托尔斯泰正因为出身贵族，旧性荡涤不尽，所以只同情于贫民而不主张阶级斗争。马克斯原先诚非无产阶级中的人物，但也并无文学作品，我们不能悬拟他如果动笔，所表现的一定是不用方式的恋爱本身。至于约翰孙博士终身穷苦，而志行吐属，过于王侯者，我却实在不明白那缘故，因为我不知道英国文学和他的传记。也许，他原想“辛辛苦苦诚诚实实的工作一生，多少必定可以得到相当的资产”，然后再爬上贵族阶级去，不料终于“劣败”，连相当的资产也积不起来，所以只落得摆空架子，“爽快”了罢。
其次，梁先生说，“好的作品永远是少数人的专利品，大多数永远是蠢的，永远是和文学无缘”，但鉴赏力之有无却和阶级无干，因为“鉴赏文学也是天生的一种福气”，就是，虽在无产阶级里，也会有这“天生的一种福气”的人。由我推论起来，则只要有这一种“福气”的人，虽穷得不能受教育，至于一字不识，也可以赏鉴《新月》月刊，来作“人性”和文艺“本身”，原无阶级性的证据。但梁先生也知道天生这一种福气的无产者一定不多，所以另定一种东西（文艺？）来给他们看，“例如什么通俗的戏剧、电影、侦探小说之类”，因为“一般劳工劳农需要娱乐，也许需要少量的艺术的娱乐”的缘故。这样看来，好象文学确因阶级而不同了，但这是因鉴赏力之高低而定的，这种力量的修养和经济无关，乃是上帝之所赐──“福气”。所以文学家要自由创造，既不该为皇室贵族所雇用，也不该受无产阶级所威胁，去做讴功颂德的文章。这是不错的，但在我们所见的无产文学理论中，也并未见过有谁说或一阶级的文学家，不该受皇室贵族的雇用，却该受无产阶级的威胁，去做讴功颂德的文章，不过说，文学有阶级性，在阶级社会中，文学家虽自以为“自由”，自以为超了阶级，而无意识底地，也终受本阶级的阶级意识所支配，那些创作，并非别阶级的文化罢了。例如梁先生的这篇文章，原意是在取消文学上的阶级性，张扬真理的。但以资产为文明的祖宗，指穷人为劣败的渣滓，只要一瞥，就知道是资产家的斗争的“武器”，──不，“文章”了。无产文学理论家以主张“全人类”“超阶级”的文学理论为帮助有产阶级的东西，这里就给了一个极分明的例证。至于成仿吾先生似的“他们一定胜利的，所以我们去指导安慰他们去”，说出“去了”之后，便来“打发”自己们以外的“他们”那样的无产文学家，那不消说，是也和梁先生一样地对于无产文学的理论，未免有“以意为之”的错误的。
又其次，梁先生最痛恨的是无产文学理论家以文艺为斗争的武器，就是当作宣传品。他“不反对任何人利用文学来达到另外的目的”，但“不能承认宣传式的文字便是文学”。我以为这是自扰之谈。据我所看过的那些理论，都不过说凡文艺必有所宣传，并没有谁主张只要宣传式的文字便是文学。诚然，前年以来，中国确曾有许多诗歌小说，填进口号和标语去，自以为就是无产文学。但那是因为内容和形式，都没有无产气，不用口号和标语，便无从表示其“新兴”的缘故，实际上也并非无产文学。今年，有名的“无产文学底批评家”钱杏邨先生在《拓荒者》上还在引卢那卡尔斯基的话，以为他推重大众能解的文学，足见用口号标语之未可厚非，来给那些“革命文学”辩护。但我觉得那也和梁实秋先生一样，是有意的或无意的曲解。卢那卡尔斯基所谓大众能解的东西，当是指托尔斯泰做了分给农民的小本子那样的文体，工农一看便会了然的语法，歌调，诙谐。只要看台明·培特尼（Demian Bednii）曾因诗歌得到赤旗章，而他的诗中并不用标语和口号，便可明白了。
最后梁先生要看货色。这不错的，是最切实的办法；但抄两首译诗算是在示众，是不对的。《新月》上就曾有《论翻译之难》，何况所译的文是诗。就我所见的而论，卢那卡尔斯基的《被解放的堂·吉诃德》，法兑耶夫的《溃灭》，格拉特珂夫的《水门汀》，在中国这十一年中，就并无可以和这些相比的作品。这是指“新月社”一流的蒙资产文明的余荫，而且衷心在拥护它的作家而言。于号称无产作家的作品中，我也举不出相当的成绩。但钱杏邨先生也曾辩护，说新兴阶级，于文学的本领当然幼稚而单纯，向他们立刻要求好作品，是“布尔乔亚”的恶意。这话为农工而说，是极不错的。这样的无理要求，恰如使他们冻饿了好久，倒怪他们为什么没有富翁那么肥胖一样。但中国的作者，现在却实在并无刚刚放下锄斧柄子的人，大多数都是进过学校的智识者，有些还是早已有名的文人，莫非克服了自己的小资产阶级意识之后，就连先前的文学本领也随着消失了么？不会的。俄国的老作家亚历舍·托尔斯泰和威垒赛耶夫、普理希文，至今都还有好作品。中国的有口号而无随同的实证者，我想，那病根并不在“以文艺为阶级斗争的武器”，而在“借阶级斗争为文艺的武器”，在“无产者文学”这旗帜之下，聚集了不少的忽翻筋斗的人，试看去年的新书广告，几乎没有一本不是革命文学，批评家又但将辩护当作“清算”，就是，请文学坐在“阶级斗争”的掩护之下，于是文学自己倒不必着力，因而于文学和斗争两方面都少关系了。
但中国目前的一时现象，当然毫不足作无产文学之新兴的反证的。梁先生也知道，所以他临末让步说，“假如无产阶级革命家一定要把他的宣传文学唤做无产文学，那总算是一种新兴文学，总算是文学国土里的新收获，用不着高呼打倒资产的文学来争夺文学的领域，因为文学的领域太大了，新的东西总有它的位置的。”但这好象“中日亲善，同存共荣”之说，从羽毛未丰的无产者看来，是一种欺骗。愿意这样的“无产文学者”现在恐怕实在也有的罢，不过这是梁先生所谓“有出息”的要爬上资产阶级去的“无产者”一流，他的作品是穷秀才未中状元时候的牢骚，从开手到爬上以及以后，都决不是无产文学。无产者文学是为了以自己们之力，来解放本阶级并及一切阶级而斗争的一翼，所要的是全般，不是一角的地位。就拿文艺批评界来比方罢，假如在“人性”的“艺术之宫”（这须从成仿吾先生处租来暂用）里，向南面摆两把虎皮交椅，请梁实秋、钱杏邨两位先生并排坐下，一个右执“新月”，一个左执“太阳”，那情形可真是“劳资”媲美了。
五
到这里，又可以谈到我的“硬译”去了。
推想起来，这是很应该跟着发生的问题：无产文学既然重在宣传，宣传必须多数能懂，那么，你这些“硬译”而难懂的理论“天书”，究竟为什么而译的呢？不是等于不译么？
我的回答，是：为了我自己，和几个以无产文学批评家自居的人，和一部分不图“爽快”，不怕艰难，多少要明白一些这理论的读者。
从前年以来，对于我个人的攻击是多极了，每一种刊物上，大抵总要看见“鲁迅”的名字，而作者的口吻，则粗粗一看，大抵好象革命文学家。但我看了几篇，竟逐渐觉得废话太多了。解剖刀既不中腠理，子弹所击之处，也不是致命伤。例如我所属的阶级罢，就至今还未判定，忽说小资产阶级，忽说“布尔乔亚”，有时还升为“封建余孽”，而且又等于猩猩；（见《创造月刊》上的《东京通信》；）有一回则骂到牙齿的颜色。在这样的社会里，有封建余孽出风头，是十分可能的，但封建余孽就是猩猩，却在任何“唯物史观”上都没有说明，也找不出牙齿色黄，即有害于无产阶级革命的论据。我于是想，可供参考的这样的理论，是太少了，所以大家有些胡涂。对于敌人，解剖，咬嚼，现在是在所不免的，不过有一本解剖学，有一本烹饪法，依法办理，则构造味道，总还可以较为清楚，有味。人往往以神话中的Prometheus比革命者，以为窃火给人，虽遭天帝之虐待不悔，其博大坚忍正相同。但我从别国里窃得火来，本意却在煮自己的肉的，以为倘能味道较好，庶几在咬嚼者那一面也得到较多的好处，我也不枉费了身躯：出发点全是个人主义，并且还夹杂着小市民性的奢华，以及慢慢地摸出解剖刀来，反而刺进解剖者的心脏里去的“报复”。梁先生说“他们要报复！”其实岂只“他们”，这样的人在“封建余孽”中也很有的。然而，我也愿意于社会上有些用处，看客所见的结果仍是火和光。这样，首先开手的就是《文艺政策》，因为其中含有各派的议论。
郑伯奇先生现在是开书铺，印Hauptmann和Gregory夫人的剧本了，那时他还是革命文学家，便在所编的《文艺生活》上，笑我的翻译这书，是不甘没落，而可惜被别人着了先鞭。翻一本书便会浮起，做革命文学家真太容易了，我并不这样想。有一种小报，则说我的译《艺术论》是“投降”。是的，投降的事，为世上所常有。但其时成仿吾元帅早已爬出日本的温泉，住进巴黎的旅馆了，在这里又向谁去输诚呢。今年，说法又两样了，在《拓荒者》和《现代小说》上，都说是“方向转换”。我看见日本的有些杂志中，曾将这四字加在先前的新感觉派片冈铁兵上，算是一个好名词。其实，这些纷纭之谈，也还是只看名目，连想也不肯想的老病。译一本关于无产文学的书，是不足以证明方向的，倘有曲译，倒反足以为害。我的译书，就也要献给这些速断的无产文学批评家，因为他们是有不贪“爽快”，耐苦来研究这些理论的义务的。
但我自信并无故意的曲译，打着我所不佩服的批评家的伤处了的时候我就一笑，打着我的伤处了的时候我就忍疼，却决不肯有所增减，这也是始终“硬译”的一个原因。自然，世间总会有较好的翻译者，能够译成既不曲，也不“硬”或“死”的文章的，那时我的译本当然就被淘汰，我就只要来填这从“无有”到“较好”的空间罢了。
Section 6
And yet there is still much paper in the world, while the members of each literary society are few, their ambitions large but their strength slight, unable to cover all the paper with writing. Hence the critics within a society, whose duty it is to vanquish enemies, aid friends, and sweep away alien elements, sigh heavily with shaking heads and stamping feet when they see others come to scribble on paper. The Shanghai Shenbao went so far as to call translators of social science "any Tom, Dick, or Harry" -- such was its indignation. Mr. Jiang Guangci, whose "position in China's new literature is long since known to readers," had gone to Tokyo to convalesce, and there met Kurahara Korehito. When the conversation turned to the many bad Japanese translations, which were practically harder to read than the originals, he laughed and said: "...The Chinese translation world must be even more absurd. Recently many Chinese books have been translated from Japanese; if the Japanese convey European works into Japanese with sundry errors and abridgments, and these are then translated into Chinese, will not the work have lost half its face?..." (See "The Pioneer.") This too is an expression of deep dissatisfaction with translation, especially retranslation. However, Mr. Liang at least names titles and specific flaws, while Mr. Jiang merely smiles gracefully and sweeps everything away -- truly far more sweeping. Kurahara Korehito has translated many works of literary theory and fiction directly from Russian, which has been of great benefit to me personally. I hope that China too will have one or two such honest translators from Russian who will gradually produce good books, instead of merely cursing themselves once as "idiots" and considering their duty as revolutionary writers discharged.
But how do things stand at present? Mr. Liang Shiqiu does not translate such things, the great man who calls others "Tom, Dick, and Harry" does not translate either, and Mr. Jiang, who has studied Russian, would actually be best suited, but unfortunately after his convalescence he has produced only one book, "One Week," while Japan has long had two translations. China once talked eagerly about Darwin, eagerly about Nietzsche, and at the time of the European War cursed them roundly, but to this day there is only one translation of Darwin's works, only half of Nietzsche; the scholars and literary luminaries who have studied English and German have neither the leisure nor the inclination to attend to it -- and that is that. So for the time being, I am afraid we can only let ourselves be laughed at and cursed and continue to retranslate from Japanese, or take an original text and translate it directly while consulting the Japanese version. I intend to continue doing so, and I hope there will be more people who do the same, to fill in a little of the emptiness behind all the thoroughgoing high talk. For we cannot "laugh about it" like Mr. Jiang, nor should we "wait, wait, wait" like Mr. Liang.
6
At the beginning I wrote, "To pose as hard while actually being soft as cotton is quite a characteristic of the Crescent Moon Society" -- to which I should like to add a few brief supplements here, as a conclusion to this essay.
When "The Crescent Moon" came into the world, it immediately advocated a "strict attitude," but cursed those who cursed and mocked those who mocked. That is not wrong at all; it is simply "returning to each man according to his own method," though it is also a kind of "retaliation," not done for selfish ends. Even in the advertisement for the combined issue of Volume 2, Numbers 6 and 7, it says: "We all maintain an attitude of 'tolerance' (except for the attitude of 'intolerance,' which we cannot tolerate), and we all appreciate sound, rational doctrines." The first two sentences are also not wrong -- "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth" -- and are consistent with the initial position. But if one continues along this broad road, one must inevitably arrive at "violence against violence," which is no longer compatible with the "soundness" so dear to the gentlemen of the Crescent Moon Society.
This time, when the Crescent Moon Society's "free speech" was suppressed, the old method would have required suppressing the suppressor as well. But the reaction displayed in "The Crescent Moon" was an essay "To the Suppressors of Freedom of Speech," which first cited the other side's party doctrine, then foreign laws, and finally historical examples from East and West, to show that those who suppress freedom often meet destruction -- a warning solicitously conceived for the other side.
So the Crescent Moon Society's "strict attitude," the "eye for an eye" method, comes down in the end to being applied exclusively to forces of similar or lesser strength. If a more powerful party punches one's eye swollen, an exception is made: one merely raises a hand, covers one's own face, and cries, "Watch out for your own eye!"
Section 7
Habit and Reform
A people whose bodies and minds have already hardened will obstruct even the most trifling reform. On the surface it seems as though they fear inconvenience for themselves; in truth they fear disadvantage for themselves, yet the pretexts they devise often appear supremely just and dignified.
This year's prohibition of the lunar calendar is, of course, a trifling matter that touches nothing essential, but the merchants naturally bewail it to the skies. And that is not all: even Shanghai's unemployed and company clerks often sigh profoundly and say this is very inconvenient for farmers in their planting, or very inconvenient for ocean vessels awaiting the tides. They actually think of the country farmers they have long had nothing to do with, and the sailors on the sea. This really does sound like universal love.
As soon as the twenty-third of the twelfth lunar month arrives, firecrackers explode everywhere. I asked a shop clerk: "May one still celebrate the old New Year this year? Next year we'll definitely celebrate the new calendar New Year?" The answer was: "Next year is next year; we'll have to see then." He does not believe that next year one will be compelled to celebrate the solar New Year. But on the calendar the lunar dates were indeed deleted, leaving only the solar terms. Yet at the same time, an advertisement appeared in the papers for a "One Hundred and Twenty Year Combined Solar-Lunar Calendar." Wonderful -- they have prepared the lunar calendar even for the times of great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren, one hundred and twenty years!
Although the likes of Mr. Liang Shiqiu very much despise the majority, the power of the majority is formidable and crucial. Those who aspire to reform, if they do not thoroughly understand the heart of the people and find ways to guide and educate them, will find that however lofty their essays and however grand their debates, whether romantic or classical, these will have nothing to do with the people -- everything will amount to a few individuals in their studies admiring each other and achieving self-satisfaction. And if there were actually a "government of good men" that ordered reforms, the people would soon drag it back onto the old road.
True revolutionaries have their own original insights. Mr. Ulyanov, for example, includes "customs" and "habits" within "culture" and considers reforming these extremely difficult. I think that if these things are not reformed, the revolution amounts to nothing -- like a tower built on sand that collapses in an instant. China's first anti-Manchu revolution found ready support because its slogan was "restoration of the old" -- that is, "restoration" -- which easily wins the consent of a conservative people. But when the flourishing age customarily expected at the beginning of a new dynasty failed to materialize and one had merely lost a queue in vain, the general dissatisfaction was great.
The somewhat newer reforms that followed failed one after another: one liang of reform, ten jin of reaction. For example: one year the lunar calendar is banned from the official calendar -- and in exchange comes a combined solar-lunar calendar for one hundred and twenty years.
Such combined calendars will certainly find many enthusiastic buyers, for they are upheld by customs and habits and therefore also have customs and habits for their backing. With other matters it is the same: if one does not penetrate deep into the broad masses and study their customs and habits, analyze them, distinguish good from bad, establish standards for preservation and abolition, and for both carefully select the method of implementation, then every reform will be crushed by the rock of habit or will merely drift on the surface for a time.
Now is no longer the time to sit in the study, book in hand, discoursing loftily on religion, law, literature, art, and the like. Even if one wishes to discuss these things, one must first understand customs and habits and possess the courage and perseverance to face their dark aspects squarely. For without clear sight, no reform is possible. To merely proclaim the coming light is in truth to deceive one's own lazy self and one's lazy audience.
Section 8
Non-Revolutionary Radical Revolutionary Theorists
Should one say that a great revolutionary army must presuppose that the consciousness of all its fighters is entirely correct and clear -- only then is it a true revolutionary army, otherwise not worth a smile -- this sounds at first glance quite justified and thorough, yet it is an impossible task, empty talk, a sweet poison that poisons the revolution.
Just as under the rule of imperialism it is impossible to train the masses so that every individual possesses "love of humanity" and then with smiles and folded hands establishes the "great harmony" of the world -- equally, under the forces against which the revolutionaries rebel, it is impossible through word or deed to bring the great majority to an entirely correct consciousness. Therefore in every uprising of a revolutionary force, the sentiment of the fighters is fundamentally but one: resistance to the status quo. In this they agree; in their ultimate aims they diverge widely. Some fight for society, some for a small clique, some for a lover, some for themselves, some simply to die. And yet the revolutionary army can still advance. For on the march, the bullet fired by an individualist at the enemy is just as deadly as one fired by a collectivist; and when a fighter falls, the reduction in the army's fighting strength is equal in both cases. Of course, because of the differences in ultimate aims, people will continually desert, lose their way, grow dispirited, or defect along the route. But as long as this does not impede the advance, the force will over time become ever purer and sharper.
When I wrote the preface to Mr. Ye Yongzhen's "A Small Decade," I held that the protagonist had already rendered some service to society, and this was precisely what I meant. The protagonist after all went to the front and stood sentry (even though he was never even taught how to fire a rifle) -- that is incomparably more concrete than the literary luminaries who merely sit on their knees singing sad songs or clutch their pens and sigh angrily. To demand that today's fighters must without exception possess correct consciousness and be steadfast as steel is not only a utopian fantasy but also an unreasonable demand beyond all reason.
But later in the Shenbao I saw an even sterner, even more thorough criticism: because the protagonist of the book went to war from personal motives, deep dissatisfaction was expressed. The Shenbao is the most peace-loving newspaper, the one that least encourages revolution -- which at first glance seems quite incongruous. I wish to point out here that there are people who outwardly appear to be thorough revolutionaries but in truth are highly unrevolutionary or individualistic theorists harmful to the revolution -- so that the soul of the criticism and the body of the newspaper match perfectly.
One type is the decadent: because he himself has neither a definite ideal nor definite abilities, he sinks and seeks momentary pleasure; having gorged on a particular pleasure, he feels surfeited and constantly seeks new stimuli, which must be ever more intense for him to feel satisfaction. Revolution too is one of the decadent's new stimuli -- like a glutton who has overeaten on rich sweets, whose palate is jaded and stomach weak, and who must now eat pepper and chili so that a little sweat appears on his brow and he can still get down half a bowl of rice. From revolutionary literature he demands thorough, complete revolutionary literature; the moment a reflection of the era's defects appears, he frowns and considers it not worth a smile. Detachment from reality does not matter -- so long as one gets one's thrill. Baudelaire in France is universally known as a decadent poet, yet he welcomed the revolution; only when the revolution began to interfere with his decadent life did he come to hate it. Therefore the paper revolutionaries on the eve of revolution, who are moreover the most thorough, most radical revolutionaries, can when the revolution comes tear off their former masks -- their unconscious masks. Such historical examples should also be presented to "revolutionary literary men" of the Cheng Fangwu type, who at the slightest setback flee east to Tokyo or run west to Paris the moment they obtain a small position (or a small sum).
The other type -- I cannot yet name him. In short, he is a man without fixed convictions, who therefore finds that nothing in the world is right and that he himself is never wrong, and who in the final analysis considers the status quo best. When he speaks as critic, he arbitrarily seizes upon one thing to refute its opposite. When he wants to refute the theory of mutual aid, he uses the theory of the struggle for existence; when he wants to refute the struggle for existence, he uses mutual aid. Against the peace theory he invokes class struggle; against struggle he preaches the love of humanity. If his opponent is an idealist, his standpoint is materialism; but when debating a materialist, he transforms into an idealist. In short, he measures Russian versts with English feet and meters with French feet, and discovers that nothing matches. Because nothing else matches, he eternally feels that he "holds to the golden mean," eternally self-satisfied. According to the guidance of these people's criticism, anything that is not perfect and has defects is no good. But where in today's world, among today's people and affairs, is there anything perfectly perfect and entirely flawless? For safety's sake, the only course is not to budge an inch. Yet this not budging is itself a great error. In short, the art of being human is extremely difficult, and being a revolutionary, naturally, even more so.
The Shenbao's critic demands a thoroughly revolutionary protagonist for "A Small Decade," but for the translation of social science he has only venomous cold mockery. His soul therefore belongs to the latter category, with a slight touch of the decadent's boredom with life, wanting to eat a bit of chili to stimulate the appetite.
Section 9
Zhang Ziping's "Theory of the Novel"
Zhang Ziping is, so they say, the "most progressive" "proletarian writer": while you are still "sprouting," still "breaking new ground," he is already harvesting. That is progress -- sprinting ahead, leaving nothing but dust in the distance. What he industriously writes, however, is still the love triangle -- the specialty of the "revolutionary writer" that no one else can surpass -- but that is a matter upon which outsiders cannot pass judgment, and for the moment I shall not discuss it here. Now he has produced a book called "Theory of the Novel," which might give a "romanticist" pause, for from it one learns: the novel does indeed have a "theory." But the method of this "theory" is also quite simple; it requires only copying -- just like his own novels.
Section 10
Opinions on the League of Left-Wing Writers
-- Speech at the founding assembly of the League of Left-Wing Writers, March 2
Many things have already been explained in detail by others, and I need not repeat them. I believe that today it is very easy for "left-wing" writers to become "right-wing" writers. Why? First, if one has no contact with actual social struggle and merely sits behind glass windows writing essays and studying problems, then however radical and "left" one may be, that is easily accomplished; but the moment one collides with reality, one is instantly shattered. Shut up in a room, it is easiest to hold forth on thoroughgoing principles, yet also easiest to "drift rightward." In the West this is called the "salon socialist" -- "salon" means drawing room: sitting in the drawing room chatting about socialism, very elegant, very pretty, but without any intention of putting it into practice. Such socialists are utterly unreliable. Moreover, in the present age there is virtually no writer or artist who does not carry at least a touch of socialist thought in the broad sense -- that is, writers or artists who hold that the workers and peasants should be slaves, should be slaughtered and exploited, are almost nonexistent, unless one counts Mussolini, but Mussolini has not written literary works. (Of course, one cannot say such writers are entirely absent -- for instance, the literati of the Chinese Crescent Moon school and the Mussolini-admired D'Annunzio belong to them.)
Second, if one does not understand the actual circumstances of revolution, one can also easily turn "right." Revolution is pain; it inevitably contains filth and blood; it is by no means as interesting or as perfect as poets imagine. Revolution above all is a matter of reality and requires all manner of lowly, troublesome work -- by no means as romantic as poets imagine. Revolution of course involves destruction, but it needs construction even more; destruction is exhilarating, but construction is a troublesome business. Therefore those who hold romantic illusions about revolution easily become disillusioned the moment they approach or enter the revolution. I hear that the Russian poet Yesenin initially also warmly welcomed the October Revolution, crying at the time: "Long live the revolution in heaven and on earth!" and also "I am a Bolshevik!" But when after the revolution the actual situation proved entirely different from what he had imagined, he fell into disillusionment and decadence. Yesenin later committed suicide, and this disillusionment was, I hear, one of the causes. Pilnyak and Ehrenburg are also examples. In our own Xinhai Revolution there were similar cases: many literati at that time, such as members of the "Southern Society," were initially quite revolutionary, but they harbored an illusion -- they believed that once the Manchus were driven out, everything would be restored to the splendor of "Han official dignity," everyone would wear wide sleeves, tall caps and broad sashes, and stride grandly through the streets. But after the Manchu emperor was expelled and the Republic established, everything was utterly different, and so they were disillusioned; some later even became reactionaries against the new movement. If we too do not understand the actual circumstances of revolution, we risk becoming like them.
Furthermore, the notion that poets or writers stand above all other people and their work is nobler than all other work is also incorrect. For instance, Heine once believed that the poet was the noblest being and God the most just; after death the poet would go to God, sit around Him, and God would offer him sweets. Nowadays, of course, no one believes God offers sweets. But to believe that the poet or writer, who today makes revolution for the laboring masses, will after the revolution's success certainly be richly rewarded and specially favored by the working class, will ride in special carriages and eat special meals -- or that workers will bring him buttered bread saying: "Our poet, please help yourself!" -- this too is incorrect. For in reality this will never happen; it will probably be even harder then than now -- not only no buttered bread, but perhaps not even black bread, as the situation in Russia one or two years after the revolution illustrates. If one does not understand this, one can also easily turn "right." In fact, the laboring masses, as long as they are not those whom Liang Shiqiu would call "successful," will by no means specially value members of the intelligentsia -- just as the Medik (of intelligentsia origin) in "Destruction," which I translated, is often mocked by miners and others. Needless to say, the intelligentsia has its own work to do and should not be specially despised; but the working class has absolutely no obligation to give poets or writers specially favorable treatment as an exception.
Now let me mention several points we should heed in the future.
First, the struggle against the old society and old forces must be resolute, sustained, and uninterrupted, with attention to actual strength. The foundations of the old society are extremely solid; without still greater force, the new movement cannot shake them. Moreover, the old society has excellent methods of making the new force compromise, while it itself never compromises at all. In China there have been many new movements, yet each time the new has lost to the old, and the cause generally lay in the new side's lack of a resolute, comprehensive aim -- its demands were small and easily satisfied. For example, the vernacular movement: at first the old society resisted with all its might, but soon it permitted the vernacular to exist, assigned it a pitiful position, and in the corners of newspapers one could see articles written in the vernacular. This was because the old society saw that the new thing was nothing special and not threatening, so it let it exist, and the new side was satisfied, thinking the vernacular had won the right to exist. Similarly the proletarian literature movement of the past year or two: the old society also tolerated proletarian literature, because it was not particularly formidable. On the contrary, they themselves dabbled in proletarian literature and used it as decoration, as if placing a coarse worker's bowl alongside the many antique porcelains in the drawing room -- quite charming. And the proletarian writers? They already had a small place on the literary stage, their manuscripts already sold, they no longer needed to fight, and the critics sang triumphal songs: "Proletarian literature is victorious!" But apart from personal victory, how much had proletarian literature as such actually won? Moreover, proletarian literature is a wing of the proletariat's liberation struggle and grows with the growth of the proletariat's social power: when the proletariat's social position is very low and the position of proletarian literature in the literary world is on the contrary very high, this merely proves that the proletarian writers have left the proletariat and returned to the old society.
Second, I believe the front should be expanded. In the year before last and last year there were battles in literature, but the scope was really too narrow. All old literature and old thought were ignored by the new school; instead, in one corner, new writers fought new writers, while the old school could comfortably watch the battle from the sidelines.
Third, we should train great numbers of new fighters. For at present we truly lack hands. We have several magazines, and not a few books are published as separate volumes, but the authors are always the same few people, so the content cannot help being thin. If one person does not specialize but dabbles in this and that -- translating and also writing novels and also writing criticism and also writing poetry -- how can it turn out well? This is all because too few people are involved. If there were more, the translators could specialize in translating, the creators in creating, the critics in criticism; in repelling the enemy too, the military force would be formidable and victory easier. On this point let me mention one thing in passing. When the Creation Society and the Sun Society attacked me the year before last, their strength was truly meager; in the end even I found it a bit boring and had no desire to counterattack, because I eventually saw that the enemy army was playing "the empty city ruse." At that time my enemy army was solely occupied with bluster, neglecting to recruit soldiers and train officers; the attacks on me were naturally numerous, but one could see at a glance that they were all pseudonyms, and the curses back and forth were always the same few sentences. I was waiting for someone capable of sniping at me with the marksmanship of Marxist criticism, but he never appeared. For my part, I have always paid attention to training new young fighters and have organized several literary groups, though with little effect. But henceforth we must attend to this.
We urgently need to produce great numbers of new fighters, but at the same time, people on the literary front must possess "tenacity." What I mean by tenacity is that one should not use the method of the "doorknocking brick" as in the former Qing dynasty's eight-legged essay. The eight-legged essay of the former Qing was a tool for "entering school" and becoming an official; once one could write "introduction, development, turn, and conclusion" and thereby attained the title of "xiucai" or "juren," one could throw away the eight-legged essay and never need it again in one's life -- hence the name "doorknocking brick," like using a brick to knock on a door: once you've knocked your way in, the brick can be discarded, no need to carry it with you anymore. This method is still used by many people today. We often see that after some people have published one or two volumes of poetry or fiction, they vanish forever. Where have they gone? Because after publishing one or two books and gaining a small or large reputation, after obtaining a professorship or some other position, their success is achieved and there is no longer any need to write poetry or fiction -- hence they have vanished forever. This is why China has nothing to show for itself in either literature or science; but we must have something, because it is useful to us. (Lunacharsky even advocated preserving Russian peasant art, because it could be produced and sold to foreigners, which would be economically helpful. I believe that if we have something in culture and science to present to others, it would even help the political movement to break free from imperialist oppression.) But to achieve results in culture, tenacity is absolutely essential.
Finally, I believe that a united front requires a common objective as its necessary condition. I recall hearing something like this: "The reactionaries already have a united front, and we are still not united!" In truth they do not have a deliberate united front either; only because their objective is the same, their actions are consistent, and to us it looks like a united front. That we cannot unify our front proves that our objectives are not consistent -- perhaps they serve only a small clique, or perhaps in truth only individuals. If everyone's objective were the working and farming masses, then the front would naturally be united.
Section 11
We Want Critics
Judging by the general situation (we cannot obtain reliable statistics here), since last year the readership of creative fiction published under the "revolutionary" label has been declining, and the trend in the publishing world has already shifted toward the social sciences, economics, and even philosophy. Whether this is the reverse side of suppression or whether it expresses a new advance in the consciousness of readers, I cannot say. But one thing is certain: creative fiction has not yet developed well enough, whether judged by quality or quantity. And as for criticism, it is an even greater wasteland. Among us there is not yet a single equipped critic who surveys the entire literary scene and is capable of delivering the right judgment at the right moment.
Section 12
Good Government-ism
Mr. Liang Shiqiu has this time in the "Sundries" section of "The Crescent" also expressed his approval of "dissatisfaction with the status quo," but he thinks that "today's intellectuals (especially those who have long styled themselves 'pioneers,' 'authorities,' 'vanguards') are most content with the status quo," and they should please "stand up and demand a good government rather than merely shouting revolutionary slogans." That sounds quite cheap. As for "good government," the demand for it is by no means based solely on dissatisfaction with "bad government"; rather: if the social order is not fundamentally changed, if only the personnel are replaced, then the successors may at best be somewhat more exemplary at the beginning, but soon they too will become a "bad government" again. This is a truth that even ancient Chinese history proves. Mr. Liang need not consult any "dangerous thoughts"; he need only open the twenty-four dynastic histories -- provided he has read them.
Section 13
"Homeless" "Capitalists' Toothless Running Dog"
Because the "Pioneer" called him "a running dog of the capitalists," Mr. Liang Shiqiu wrote an article he himself entitled "I Am Not Angry." First, basing himself on the definition on page 672 of the second issue of the "Pioneer," he concluded that he "felt somewhat like a member of the proletariat," and then defined "running dog" as follows: "Generally speaking, all running dogs want to please their master and thereby gain a little favor." He then raised the question:
"The 'Pioneer' says I am a running dog of the capitalists. Which capitalist, or all capitalists? I don't even know who my master is. If I knew, I would certainly take several magazines to my master to show my merits, and perhaps receive a few gold pounds or rubles as a reward... I only know that by working ceaselessly one can earn money to sustain one's livelihood. How one goes to the capitalist's counting house to collect gold pounds, how one goes to the XX Party to collect rubles -- these skills, how could I possibly know them?..."
This is a living portrait of "the capitalists' running dog." Every running dog may be kept by a particular capitalist, but in truth belongs to all capitalists. Therefore it wags its tail before all the wealthy and barks at all the poor. Not knowing who its master is -- that is precisely why it wags before all the wealthy, and proof that it belongs to all capitalists. Even if no one feeds it and it starves to a skeleton and becomes a stray, it still wags before all the wealthy and barks at all the poor -- only now it knows even less who its master is.
Since Mr. Liang himself recounts how hard he works, so that he seems like "the proletariat" (that is, what Mr. Liang formerly called "the defeated"), and does not know "who his master is," he belongs to the latter category. To be precise, we must add a few words and call him a "homeless" "running dog of the capitalists."
Yet even this title has some shortcomings. Mr. Liang is after all an educated professor, and therefore different from the ordinary type. He has finally stopped asking "Does literature have class character?"; in his essay "Reply to Mr. Lu Xun" he very cleverly inserts sentences about "Armed Protection of the Soviet Union" written on telegraph poles and the smashing of newspaper office windows; and in the passage quoted above he writes "go to the XX Party to collect rubles" -- where the two deliberately concealed X's can immediately be recognized as the characters for "Communist." He thereby implies that anyone who maintains "literature has class character" and has offended Mr. Liang is engaged in the business of "protecting the Soviet Union" or "collecting rubles." This is the same method by which Duan Qirui's guards shot students and the Morning Post claimed the students had lost their lives for a few rubles, or by which, when my name appeared on the Freedom League, the "Revolutionary Daily" reported in a dispatch that I had been "bought with glittering golden rubles." Mr. Liang may believe that sniffing out criminals ("scholarly bandits") for his master is also a form of "criticism," but this profession is even more base than that of an "executioner."
I still remember: during the era of "KMT-CCP cooperation," it was most fashionable to praise the Soviet Union in correspondence and speeches. Now things are different: according to the papers, writing on telegraph poles and the "XX Party" are being pursued most vigorously by the police. Well then, to point to one's own debating opponent as a "defender of the Soviet Union" or the "XX Party" is also fashionable and timely and might even earn one "a little favor" from the master. But to say that Mr. Liang aims to obtain "favor" or "gold pounds" would be slander; there is nothing at all to it. He merely wants to lend a hand to rescue his "literary criticism" from its impasse. Therefore, from the perspective of "literary criticism," one must affix another adjective before "running dog": "toothless."
(April 19, 1930.)
Section 14
Preface to "Evolution and Degeneration"
This is a selection the translator has assembled from the nearly one hundred texts translated over ten years: works that are not too specialized, that anyone can read, brought together in one volume in the hope of wider circulation. First, it shows the state of the latest evolutionary theory; second, it serves as reference for those engaged in biology; and third -- perhaps most importantly -- it aims to provide stimulus even to non-specialists, since evolutionary theory by no means concerns biology alone but also influences thinking in general.
However, I must add: the hope that this work will truly exert influence is slight. For Chinese society, though readily receptive to new doctrines, ordinarily adopts them only to lay them as ornament upon the old order, like sticking fresh flowers in a corpse's hair.
Section 15
The Secret of Writing Classical Prose and Being a Good Person
-- Night Notes, No. 5
Of all the so-called critical writings about us during the past year and a half since last year, the most suffocatingly comical was Mr. Chang Yansheng's words in a monthly called "The Long Night," where he put on a fair face and said my works had at least ten more years of life. I recall that a few years earlier, when "The Storm" ceased publication, this same Mr. Chang Yansheng had also published an article to the effect that "The Storm" had attacked Lu Xun, and now no publisher wanted to bring it out -- who knows (!) whether Lu Xun had not influenced the publisher to persecute it? He then went on to lavishly praise the magnanimity of the North China warlords. I still have some memory, and so beneath that fair face I could still dimly see the watermark of that earlier piece of forged prose; at the same time I recalled Professor Chen Yuan's method of criticism: first enumerate a few merits, to display fairness, but then a host of grave charges -- grave charges arrived at through fair weighing. Merits offset against crimes, it all comes down in the end to "scholarly bandit," who deserves to have his head displayed beneath the banner of the "upright gentlemen" as a warning to all. My experience therefore is: censure may do no harm, but praise can be terrifying, sometimes extremely "urgent in its peril." How much more so when this Mr. Chang Yansheng reeks through and through of the Five-Colored Flag -- even if he sincerely grants my works immortality, it feels to me as if the Xuantong Emperor had suddenly beamed with delight and graciously bestowed upon me the posthumous title "Wenzhong" (Loyal in Letters). Amid the suffocating comedy within the oppression, I had no choice but to reverently remove my hat, bow, and most respectfully decline.
But in another issue of the same "Long Night" there was an essay by Mr. Liu Dajie -- these essays seem not to have been collected in "China's Literary Debate" -- which I read with genuine gratitude, perhaps precisely because, as the author himself says, we were entirely unacquainted and no personal grudges or favors intervened. What I found especially useful was that the author devised a way out for me, suggesting that in such a siege from all sides it would be better to lay down the pen and go abroad for a while; and he gave me the honest advice that a few blank pages in one person's life history are really nothing serious. That a few blank pages in the life history of a single person, or even a book entirely blank, or even a book painted entirely black, would by no means cause the earth to explode -- this I had long known. The unexpected gain I made this time was that after thirty years, as if I had suddenly caught the insight yet without being able to formulate the clear and concise formula, I had at last seized the bridle of the secret of writing classical prose and being a good person.
The formula is: To write classical prose and be a good person, one must write it all through and still end up with something equivalent to a blank page.
The teachers who taught us composition in the old days imparted no "Ma's Grammar" or "Methods of Essay Writing" and the like. Day in, day out, it was just: read, write, read, write. If the essay was bad, again: read, write. The teacher never said where the faults lay or how one should write. A dark alley in which one had to grope one's own way -- whether one got through or not, everyone left to fate. But now and then -- it came quite suddenly and one did not know how -- truly "now and then" and "one did not know how" -- the essay in the notebook had fewer and fewer deletions and corrections, and the passages left standing, even those with dense circles of approval, grew more numerous. Then the student's heart filled with joy, and he simply went on writing like that -- truly, he himself did not know how, it was just "like that" -- and after long years the teacher no longer deleted or changed anything in the essays, but merely wrote at the end comments like "has book and pen, neither sprawling nor branching." When one reached this point, one could be counted as "proficient." -- Of course, if one asked the high critic Mr. Liang Shiqiu, he would probably not accept it; but I am speaking of the world in general, so for now I follow common usage.
The basic idea of such writing must of course be clear; what the opinion is, is secondary. Suppose one must write an essay on "He who would do fine work must first sharpen his tools": one may argue from the positive side that "blunt tools produce no fine work"; or one may argue from the negative side that "for the craftsman, skill comes first; if skill is unripe, then however sharp the tools, the work will still not succeed." Even concerning the emperor, one may say "The Son of Heaven is holy, the subject's crime deserves death" -- or one may equally say the emperor is bad and should be cut down with one stroke of the sword, for our Master Mencius said beforehand: "I have heard that a single villain named Zhou was executed, but not that a sovereign was killed" -- and we disciples of the Sage think precisely so. But in any case one must argue from beginning to end, layer by layer, until everything is perfectly clear: is the Son of Heaven holy, or should he be beheaded? Or if one disagrees with both, one may declare at the end: "Though the tyrant raged cruelly, the distinction between sovereign and subject endures; the gentleman does not go to extremes, and in my humble opinion it suffices to banish him to the four frontiers" -- such an approach too would probably not meet with the teacher's disapproval, for "the golden mean" is likewise a teaching of our ancient sages.
However, the above applies to the late Qing period. At the beginning of the Qing dynasty, a single denunciation could have exterminated one's entire clan, and even advocating "banishment to the four frontiers" would not have been tolerated -- then they would not discuss Mencius and Confucius with you. Now, since the revolution has only recently succeeded, conditions probably resemble those at the start of the Qing. (Unfinished)
This is the smaller half of the fifth piece of the "Night Notes." The "Night Notes" were something I intended to write from 1927 onward, jotting down occasional thoughts by lamplight to collect them; that year I published two pieces. In Shanghai, moved by the ferocity of the massacres, I wrote one and a half more pieces entitled "Slaughter," beginning with matters like the Japanese shogunate's crucifixion of Christians and the Russian tsar's cruel treatment of revolutionaries. But soon I ran into the storm of denunciation of humanism, and so I used this as an excuse for my laziness and wrote no more; now even the manuscript has vanished.
The year before last, Roushi wanted to go to a publisher as a magazine editor and asked me to write something casual, something that would not cause a headache to read. That evening I thought again of writing "Night Notes" and set down this title. The gist was that writing and being a good person in China must have been like this since antiquity: it must already exist, but one must not copy whole passages verbatim; rather one must piece together from here and there, patch and mend so that no seams show -- only then does it count as a supreme success. One writes a great deal and in the end has written next to nothing, and the critics call it a fine essay or a fine person. That society makes no progress in anything has its root precisely here. That evening I did not finish, and went to sleep. The next day Roushi came to visit; I showed him what I had written; he furrowed his brow and thought it a bit too verbose, and also feared it would take up too much space. So I suggested he translate a short piece instead, and I set this aside.
Now it has been over a year since Roushi was killed, and when I chanced to dig this manuscript out of a heap of papers, my grief was beyond words. I wanted to complete the entire text, but could not manage it; no sooner did I take up the pen than my thoughts immediately wandered to other things. What is called "both the man and his lute are gone" -- this is probably what it looks like. Now I merely append this half piece here, as a memorial to Roushi.
In the night of April 26, 1932, written down.
Source: Chinese original from the Complete Works of Lu Xun