Lu Xun Complete Works/en/Zhun fengyuetan
zhun_fengyuetan
"Quasi-Fair Talks on Wind and Moon"
Foreword
Since the editor of "Ziyou Tan" (Free Talk) published a notice on May 25th of the twenty-second year of the Republic of China, requesting that "literary luminaries of the nation henceforth talk more about wind and moon," the established wind-and-moon literati were delighted for quite a while, bobbing their heads and swaying their shoulders. Some made snide remarks, some witty quips, and even the hound dogs who can only play "literary informers" raised their noble tails. But the amusing thing is: those who can talk about storms and clouds can also talk about wind and moon. Very well, let us talk about wind and moon then — even if it still may not quite suit the esteemed taste.
The attempt to restrict an author through a topic cannot really be accomplished. If, for example, one gives the essay topic "To learn and constantly practice" and has both a decadent young gentleman and a rickshaw puller write an eight-legged essay on it — the results will decidedly differ. Of course, the rickshaw puller's essay may be called "incoherent" or "nonsense," but this nonsense breaks through the monopoly of the old gentlemen.
The bat, though also a nocturnal creature, enjoys a rather good reputation in China. This is not because it devours mosquitoes and gadflies, benefiting mankind, but largely because its name sounds the same as the word for "fortune" (福, fú). To be admitted into paintings with such a countenance — it truly owes this to nothing but its fine name. Moreover, the Chinese have always wanted to fly themselves and have also imagined that other things could fly. Taoist monks wanted to transform into feathered beings, emperors aspired to ascend to heaven, lovers wished to become birds with intertwined wings, and the suffering longed for wings to fly away. The thought of a tiger with wings makes one shudder, but when a lucky coin (青蚨) flies in, one beams with delight. As for Mozi's flying kite — its craft was eventually lost, and airplanes must be purchased from abroad. This is because spiritual civilization was esteemed too highly — an inevitable development that should not surprise anyone at all.
However, I do not intend to rummage through such old account books now. I only want to say that the "duomin" (fallen people) of Shaoxing were a type of emancipated slaves — this emancipation probably took place during the Yongzheng era, though one cannot be certain. They all already had other occupations, naturally lowly ones. The men collected old goods, sold chicken feathers, caught frogs, and performed in plays. The women went during New Year and holidays to the homes of those they regarded as their masters to offer congratulations; at celebrations and funerals they helped out — herein they still preserved the vestiges of servitude. But when the work was done they left, and moreover received considerable remuneration, which shows they had indeed once been emancipated.
Each duomin family had fixed master households to visit — one could not switch at will. When the mother-in-law died, the daughter-in-law took her place, passing it on to the next generation like an inheritance. Only in cases of extreme poverty did one sell the visiting rights to others, thereby severing the relationship with the old master. If you dismissed them without reason, it was tantamount to inflicting a grave insult.
The pressure of life makes people angry and confused. In the confusion one cannot see the true enemy and takes family members and passersby for obstacles in one's path — hence the "pushing." This serves not only self-preservation but is also hatred of others. When such people rise to power, they have the "road cleared" when they go out.
I do not cling to the past; I merely say that the work of "pushing" has intensified nowadays and the scope has expanded. May the powerful man of the future not "push" me onto the dock of the "reactionaries" — that would be most fortunate.
(July 24th.)
"Checking Old Accounts"
Some generous souls say that in this world there is only water and air for the poor. This claim is actually inaccurate: can the poor in practice get the same water and air as everyone else? Even if they cool off a bit at the wharf, they may receive a gratuitous "kick" and lose their lives: they fall into the water. If one tries to save a friend or seize the perpetrator, "one is also pushed away with a hand": one falls into the water too. If everyone comes together to help, there arises the suspicion of "anti-imperialism." "Anti-imperialism" is not actually forbidden in China, but one must guard against "reactionary elements seizing the opportunity to cause trouble" — so the result is still "kicks" and "pushes," which is to say, falling into the water.
The times are progressing: steamships and airplanes are everywhere. Had the last emperor of the Southern Song been alive today, he certainly would not have fallen into the sea — he could have fled abroad. Instead, the common people fall into the water.
The reason, though simple, is also complex, which is why the house painter Gu Hongsheng said: "I don't know."
(August 10th.)
"Climbing and Bumping" (Xun Ji)
The former Professor Liang Shiqiu once said: the poor always want to climb, climb upward, up to the position of the rich. Not only the poor — slaves too want to climb. When there is an opportunity to climb up, even a slave feels like an immortal, and the world is naturally at peace.
Though very few manage to climb up, everyone still believes that precisely this...
When there are no such events, then one reports every seven days, chats every ten, collects refuse and stuffs it into the readers' minds. After a year or a year and a half, the entire brain is filled with anecdotes about how a certain rich man plays mahjong or how a certain star sneezes. Amusing it certainly is. But the human world will probably also come to its end among these people who welcome amusement and delight in amusement.
(August 28th.)
"Addenda to the Art of Dragon-Climbing"