顾钧 || 鲁迅小说在英语世界，1926—1954
本文载于ICL Vol.4 No.2 Summer 2021
作者简介：顾钧，北京大学比较文学博士。现为北京外国语大学国际中国文化研究院教授、博士生导师。代表作有《卫三畏与美国早期汉学》（外语教学与研究出版社，2009）、《美国第一批留学生在北京》（大象出版社，2015）。
摘要：作为中国现代文学之父，鲁迅小说在英语世界的传播不仅时间早，而且数量多。本文全面考察了自1926年《阿Q正传》译本到1954年英译《鲁迅小说选》的出版情况。在近三十年当中，鲁迅的大部分小说都被翻译成了英文，其中《孔乙己》有四个译本之多。这一成绩无疑归功于翻译家们的努力。他们大致可以分为三类：西方汉学家如金守拙、米尔斯；旅居海外的中国翻译家如哥伦比亚大学的王际真；中国本土翻译家如冯余声。本文从选材、语言、接受情况等三个方面比较了各类译本，对于一直被忽视的作品给予了特别的关注。
关键词：鲁迅；小说；英译；中国现代文学
I
The True Story of Ah Q, translated by George Kin Leung 梁社乾 and published by The Commercial Press (Shanghai) in 1926, marks the beginning of the English translation of Lu Xun’ s 鲁迅 (1881–1936) fiction works, twenty-five in number, with fourteen in the first collection, Nahan 《呐喊》 (Outcry), and eleven in the second, Panghuang 《彷徨》 (Wandering). In this paper I will focus on these early English translation before the appearance of Selected Stories of Lu Hsun in 1954 (translated by Yang Xianyi 杨宪益 and Gladys Yang, published by Beijing Foreign Language Press).
Some later translations will be referred to when necessary, such as the collection Straw Sandals: Chinese Short Stories, 1918–1933, compiled by Harold R. Isaacs in the 1930s, which includes five stories by Lu Xun: “Diary of a Madman,” “K’ung I-chi,” “Medicine,” “A Gust of Wind,” and “Remorse.” For various reasons, the volume was not published until 1974 by MIT Press, almost forty years after its compilation. But since George A. Kennedy translated the five stories from 1932 to 1934 and had two of them published in The China Forum, a newspaper compiled by H. R. Isaacs, Straw Sandals will also be discussed in this paper.
Here is the list of English translations of Lu Xun’s fictions before 1954:
1. 狂人日记: (1) “Diary of a Madman” by George A. Kennedy in 1934, included in Harold R. Isaacs, ed., Straw Sandals; (2) “The Diary of a Madman” by Chi-Chen Wang 王际真 , included in Wang’s Ah Q and Others: Selected Stories of Lusin (Columbia University Press, 1941).
2. 孔乙己: (1) “Con Y Ki” by E. H. F. Mills, included in his The Tragedy of Ah Qui and Other Modern Chinese Stories (London: George Routledge & Sons, Ltd., 1930); (2) “K’ung I-chi” by George A. Kennedy in China Forum Vol. 1, No. 14 (May 1932), later included in Straw Sandals; (3) “The Tragedy of K’ung I-Chi” by unknown translator, in The People’s Tribune, Vol. 13, No. 2 (April 1936); (4) “K’ung I-chi” by Edgar Snow and Yao Ke 姚克, included in Edgar Snow, ed., Living China: Modern Chinese Short Stories (London: Harrap & Co. Ltd., 1936).
3. 药: (1) “Medicine” by George A. Kennedy in China Forum, Vol. 1, No. 5 (March 1932), later included in Straw Sandals; (2) “Medicine” by Edgar Snow and Yao Ke, in Asia, Vol. 35, No. 2 (1935), later included in Living China.
4. 明天: (1) “Dawn” by C. C. Wang, in Far Eastern Magazine, Vol. 3, No. 3 (March 1940); (2) “At Dawn” by Joseph Kalmer, in Life and Letters, Vol. 60, No. 137 (January 1949).
5. 一件小事: “A Little Incident” by Edgar Snow and Yao Ke, included in Living China.
6. 头发的故事: “The Story of Hair” by C. C. Wang, included in Ah Q and Others: Selected Stories of Lusin.
7. 风波: (1) “A Gust of Wind” by George A. Kennedy, finished in 1930s, included in Straw Sandals; (2) “Storm in the Village” by Lin Yijin 林疑今 (1913 –1992), in The People’s Tribune, Vol. 11, No. 3 (November 1935); (3) “Cloud over Luchen” by C. C. Wang, in Far Eastern Magazine, Vol. 2, No. 3 (October 1938), later included in Ah Q and Others: Selected Stories of Lusin; (4) “The Waves of the Wind” by Yuan Jiahua 袁家骅 and Robert Payne, included in Yuan & Payne, eds., Contemporary Chinese Short Stories (London and New York: Transatlantic Arts Co. Ltd., 1946).
8. 故乡: (1) “The Native Country” by E. H. F. Mills, included in The Tragedy of Ah Qui and Other Modern Chinese Stories; (2) “My Native Town” by Lin Yijin, in The People’s Tribune, Vol. 11, No. 6 (December 1935); (3) “ The Old Home” by George A. Kennedy, in Far Eastern Magazine, Vol. 3, No. 5/6 (1940); (4) “My Native Heath” by C. C. Wang, included in Ah Q and Others: Selected Stories of Lusin.
9. 阿Q正传: (1) The True Story of Ah Q by George Kin Leung, published by The Commercial Press in 1926; (2) “The Tragedy of Ah Qui” by E. H. F. Mills, in The Tragedy of Ah Qui and Other Modern Chinese Stories; (3) “Our Story of Ah Q” by C. C. Wang, serialized in China Today, Vol. 2, Nos. 2–4 (1935–1936), later included in Ah Q and Others: Selected Stories of Lusin.
10. 端午节: (1) “The 'Dragon Boat’ Settlement” by unknown translator, in The People’s Tribune, Vol. 12, No. 5 (March 1936); (2) “What’s the Difference” by C. C. Wang, included in Wang, ed. & trans., Contemporary Chinese Stories (Columbia University Press, 1944).
11. 鸭的喜剧 : “ The Comedy of the Ducks” by C. H. Kwock, in Journal of Oriental Literature, No. 1 (July 1947).
12. 祝福: (1) “The New Year Blessing” by Lin Yijin, in The People’s Tribune, Vol. 12, No.1 (January 1936); (2) “Benediction” by Edgar Snow and Yao Ke, in Living China; (3) “Sister Sianglin” by C. C. Wang, in Far Eastern Magazine, Vol. 2, Nos. 4–5 (1938–1939), revised version “The Widow” included in Ah Q and Others: Selected Stories of Lusin.
13. 在酒楼上: (1)“Old Friends at the Wine-shop” by unknown translator, in The People’s Tribune, Vol. 12, No. 6 (March 1936); (2) “ Reunion in a Restaurant” by C. C. Wang, included in Ah Q and Others: Selected Stories of Lusin.
14. 幸福的家庭: “ A Happy Family” by C. C. Wang, in China Journal, Vol. 33, No. 2 (August 1940).
15. 肥皂: “The Cake of Soap” by C. C. Wang, included in Ah Q and Others: Selected Stories of Lusin.
16. 示众: “Peking Street Scene” by C. C. Wang, included in Contemporary Chinese Stories.
17. 高老夫子: “Professor Kao” by unknown translator, in China Journal, Vol. 33, No.1 (July 1940).
18. 孤独者: “A Hermit at Large” by C. C. Wang, in T’ien Hsia Monthly, Vol.10 (1940), revised version in Ah Q and Others: Selected Stories of Lusin.
19. 伤逝 : (1) “Remorse” by George A. Kennedy, finished in 1930s, included in Straw Sandals; (2) “Remorse” by C. C. Wang, in T’ien Hsia Monthly, Vol. 11, No. 1 (1940), later included in Ah Q and Others: Selected Stories of Lusin.
20. 离婚 : (1) “ Divorce” by Edgar Snow and Yao Ke, in Living China; (2) “ A Rustic Divorce” by unknown translator, in The People’s Tribune, Vol. 13, No.1 (April 1936); (3) “The Divorce” by C. C. Wang, included in Ah Q and Others: Selected Stories of Lusin.
From the above list, it is clear that most of Lu Xun’s short stories were translated into English in the first half of the twentieth century, except “Baiguang” 《白光》 (The White Light), “Tu He Mao” 《兔和猫》 (Some Rabbits and a Cat), “Changming Deng” 《长明灯》 (The Eternal Lamp), and “Di Xiong” 《弟兄》 (Brothers). In sharp contrast with these four neglected pieces, “Kong Yiji,” “Storm in the Village,” and “Hometown” enjoyed as many as four English versions, and from this perspective they could be regarded as Lu Xun’s most influential and popular works. In the latter half of this paper, “Kong Yiji” will be examined in depth.
The early English translators of Lu Xun may be roughly divided into three categories: Chinese (including overseas Chinese such as C. C. Wang), foreigners, and Sino-foreign collaborations (such as Edgar Snow and Yao Ke). Among them, special attention should be paid to C. C. Wang, George A. Kenndy, and Lin Yijin, whose translations are quite outstanding in terms of quality and quantity.
C. C. Wang (1899–2001) graduated from Tsinghua University in 1921 and pursued further studies in the United States the following year. He received his B.A. from University of Wisconsin and an M.A. from Columbia University successively. After graduation, he worked with the Metropolitan Museum in New York for a couple of years before he was employed by Columbia University, where he taught Chinese from 1929 until retirement in 1965. His translation AQ and Others, published by Columbia University Press in 1941, is the first English anthology of Lu Xun’s fiction, and includes eleven pieces: “My Native Heath,” “The Cake of Soap,” “The Divorce,” “Reunion in a Restaurant,” “The Story of Hair,” “Cloud over Luchen,” “Our Story of Ah Q,” “A Hermit at Large,” “Remorse,” “The Widow,” and “The Diary of a Madman.” Three years after this work, he published another collection of translations, Contemporary Chinese Stories (Columbia University Press, 1944), which includes two more stories of Lu Xun: “What’s the Difference” and “Peking Street Scene.” Wang also translated Lu Xun’s “Dawn” and “A Happy Family,” which were first published in the magazine but later not included in the above two collections. Altogether, C. C. Wang rendered fifteen of Lu Xun’s short stories into English, outtranslating all the other early translators. The Far East Magazine, which published Wang’s English version of “Dawn,” was founded by Chinese students in New York City in 1939 and ceased publication in 1941. The China Journal, which published “A Happy Family,” was founded in Shanghai in 1923 by British naturalist Arthur Sowerby and American Sinologist John Ferguson. The monthly was put to an end by Japanese invasion in 1941.
George A. Kennedy (1901–1960) was born to a pair of missionary parents, and received his early schooling in southeast China’s Zhejiang Province until 1918, when he returned to the United States for higher education. Therefore, he was equally at home in the Chinese and English languages. He returned to China in 1926 and taught English and Chinese in Shanghai for several years before pursuing doctoral studies in Germany in late 1932. After graduation, he worked first with the Library of Congress and then Yale University as a professor of Chinese phonetics until his death. In the 1930s, Kennedy translated six stories of Lu Xun, including “Diary of a Madman,” “K’ung I-chi,” “Medicine,” “A Gust of Wind,” “The Old Home,” and “Remorse.” With the exception of “The Old Home,” these pieces were later included in Straw Sandals, edited by H. Isaacs. Unfortunately, he passed away too early to see the publication of the volume in 1974.
Lin Yijin was born to a family of English language scholars. His father Lin Yulin 林玉霖 and his fifth uncle Lin Yutang 林语堂 are both well-known scholars of English language and literature. Lin Yijin himself graduated from St. John’s University in Shanghai, and later taught at Amoy University as a professor of English. From 1935 to 1936, he published in The People’s Tribune three translations of Lu Xun: “Storm in the Village,” “My Native Town,” and “The New Year Blessing,” which have been historically neglected.
The People’s Tribune was an English journal of Republican Shanghai, which published, in addition to Lin Yijin’s three translations, four other Lu Xun stories: “The Tragedy of K’ung IChi,” “The 'Dragon Boat’ Settlement,” “Old Friends at the Wine-shop” and “A Rustic Divorce.” The translators of these works published anonymously, and the translator of “Professor Kao” (China Journal, Vol. 33) also merits further investigation.
鲁迅
II
With four English versions, “Kong Yiji” was doubtlessly one of Lu Xun’s most popular translated stories, which is also the case after 1954. Here are more examples:
1. In Modern Chinese Stories (Oxford University Press, 1970), British translator W. J. F. Jenner chose three of Lu Xun’s stories to translate: “Kong Yiji,” “My Hometown,” and “Benediction.”
2. Translated and edited by Joseph Lau 刘绍铭 in collaboration with C. T. Hsia 夏志清 and Leo Ou-fan Lee 李欧梵, Modern Chinese Stories and Novellas, 1919–1949 (1981) includes six stories by Lu Xun: “Kong Yiji,” “Medicine,” “My Hometown,” “Benediction,” “In the Wine Shop,” and “Soap.”
3. 1995 saw the publication of The Columbia Anthology of Modern Chinese Literature (second version, 2007), which includes two stories by Lu Xun: “Diary of a Madman” and “Kong Yiji.” Widely used as a textbook after its publication, the Columbia anthology is divided into three genres: fiction, poetry, and essays, with each genre subdivided into three periods: 1918–1949, 1949–1976, and 1976–present. Thus, the book is composed of nine parts, and in the first part “Fiction, 1918–1949”Lu Xun is the first to be anthologized, with the afore-mentioned two stories and “Preface to Outcry.”
4. Also in 1995, Fang Zhihua 方志华 published Chinese Short Stories of the Twentieth Century: An Anthology in English, which includes Lu Xun’s “Diary of a Madman,” “Benediction,” and “Kong Yiji.”
Examining the above English anthologies, we see that Lu Xun was the first to be anthologized and his stories outnumbered those of the other authors featured in the anthologies. This is a testament to Lu Xun’s status as the foremost modern Chinese writer.
Why is “Kong Yiji” so popular with English translators? Its superb plotting, characterization, and its complex message behind simple words are three major reasons. C. T. Hsia, in his quite influential A History of Modern Chinese Fiction, praised the “economy and restraint” of the story, which reminded him of “some of Hemingway’s Nick Adams stories.” The American scholar Patrick Hanan, meanwhile, appreciated the use of irony:
The object of the irony is the derelict scholar, and the ironic factor the twelve-year-old boy who works in the inn. The irony is the kind we have called presentational, through a dramatized narrator. Although it is represented as a reminiscence, some thirty years after the event, the mature man’s judgment is not allowed to condition the boy’s naiveté. To the boy’s mind, Kong, who is the butt of jokes by all the regular patrons, is merely a source of amusement in the midst of a dull job, and it is through the boy’s dim, uncomprehending mind that we see the casual cruelty in which the derelict lives his life.
Kong Yiji, an impoverished scholar who attempted in vain to pass the government examinations on many occasions, scraped by copying books for a local gentry family, but was finally driven from the family on accusation of stealing and died soon afterwards. His life and death appear even more tragic as narrated through the eyes of an innocent boy.
Chinese researchers have also considered “Kong Yiji” to be a literary gem. Li Changzhi 李长之, for example, selected eight of Lu Xun’s twenty-five stories as masterpieces, and “Kong Yiji” ranks as the cream of the crop. Lu Xun did not raise any opposition to this selection in Li’s Critique of Lu Xun, probably the only book about his writings that Lu Xun was able to read and appreciate before his death.
From an ideological point of view, “The Madman’s Diary,” Lu Xun’s first vernacular short story with its violent attack on Confucianism, is undoubtedly more impressive than the subsequent “Kong Yiji”; its propagandist purpose achieved immediate and great success, but at the expenses of dramatic effect. “The Story of Ah Q” also has artistic flaws, especially the looseness of structure and the inconsistence of narrator’ s point of view, as it was not written in one go, but rather serialized in a newspaper. Shortly after the publication of Outcry, Sun Fuyuan 孙伏园 asked Lu Xun, his former teacher, which story was the best and why. Lu Xun’s answer was “Kong Yiji,” because “although the story was only a few pages long, I was able to describe the social indifference and bitterness to the suffering people in an unhurried manner, and the irony was quite mild, which showcases the literary skill of a master.” And Lu Xun himself translated “Kong Yiji” into Japanese.
Although Lu Xun appreciated “Kong Yiji” more than the other stories, he did not recommend it to Harold Isaacs, an American journalist who in the early 1930s was preparing an English anthology of modern Chinese literature. Instead, Lu Xun recommended “Storm in the Village” and “Remorse.” One important reason, I think, is that Lu Xun had recommended “Kong Yiji” to Edgar Snow, who started his own English anthology of modern Chinese fiction a little bit earlier than Isaacs. Snow and Yao Ke’s translation of “K’ung I-chi,” together with other pieces of modern Chinese literature, appeared in Living China: Modern Chinese Short Stories of 1936. For various reasons, Isaacs’s anthology was not published until forty years later in 1974, although it was completed at almost the same time as Snow’s Living China.
Interestingly, Isaacs’s 1974 volume, published under the title Straw Sandals, includes not only “Storm in the Village” and “Remorse” which Lu Xun recommended, but also “Kong Yiji” and two other short stories that Lu Xun did not recommend. Mao Dun, a mutual friend of Lu Xun and Isaacs, after examining Straw Sandals, believed it was due to Isaacs’s own self-assertion that he did not follow Lu Xun’s original suggestion. But the problem is not that simple. In the early 1930s, Issacs had George A. Kennedy translate into English “Kong Yiji,” along with a selection of other modern Chinese literary works, and had them published in The China Forum, a Shanghai newspaper under his editorship. As can be seen from the above introduction of Kennedy’s life, he was an American born in China and proficient in Chinese, an ideal translator indeed. For each of his translations, Isaacs never forgot to remind the reader that the selection was “Especially translated for The China Forum.” In the preface to the 1974 edition of Straw Sandals, Isaacs noted, “I have made considerable efforts to correct errors in translation and improve the faithfulness of the translation, especially those that were not originally translated by George Kennedy.” Once again, we can see his confidence in and appreciation of Kennedy’s work. Therefore, it is entirely understandable that he added “Kong Yiji” and other works that Kennedy had translated so well to Straw Sandals.
Length is another factor that should be taken into consideration. “The Story of Ah Q” is the longest fiction work by Lu Xun, at least eight times longer than “Kong Yiji.” At times translators and editors have to give up long pieces to save space, or to accommodate shorter ones. Edgar Snow’s opinion illustrates this point very clearly: “I found, for one thing, that some of the 'best’ Chinese stories were too long for inclusion in a collection. Many of them might be considered full[1]length novels or at least novelettes, yet their materials and themes, their range of action and incident and whole compass of development, are essentially those of short stories. Lu Hsün’s Ah Q Cheng Chuan is such a story, as are Mao Tun’s Spring Silkworms and Shen Ts’ung-wen’s popular Frontier City.” In terms of length, clearly, these three pieces belong to the category of novella.
In addition to length, availability is another factor that might influence the choice of translators. Following “The Story of Ah Q” (1926), numerous English translations of Lu Xun’s fiction came out. In view of this situation, some translators tend to choose untranslated or seldom translated works, for the sake of balance. Twentieth-Century Chinese Stories (1971), translated and compiled by C. T. Hsia, put Yu Dafu’s 郁达夫 (1896–1945) “Chenlun”沉沦 (Sinking) at the very beginning, and gave no space for Lu Xun. This is perhaps the only English anthology of modern Chinese literature that excludes Lu Xun, which is not so amazing if we take seriously C. T. Hsia’s statement regarding his standard for selection: “I have made it a rule not to include translations from earlier anthologies nor to retranslate stories already available in English.” Hsia once stated that Wandering is better than Outcry, and he even believed that, “technically, 'Soap’ is Lu Hsun’s greatest success; no other story evinces so fully his keen ironic intelligence.” However disputable these opinions are, one fact remains unchanged: “Kong Yiji” is the most anthologized of Lu Xun’s works.
Lu Xun once remarked that what anthologies demonstrated was “not the feature of the author, but the view point of the selector.” He further stated: “Anthologies are often more popular and useful than complete works of a single author. A qualified selector, with his insightful choices, can help the reader appreciate a large number of good works in a short time... For anyone who wants to make public his own opinions about literature and art, it is more desirable to publish an anthology than to write a book about literary rules.” To study and analyze “the view point of the selector” is certainly quite worthwhile, in terms of not only Lu Xun’s fiction but also other works of modern Chinese literature.
III
1930 witnessed the publication of E. H. F. Mills’s The Tragedy of Ah Qui and Other Modern Chinese Stories, the earliest English anthology of modern Chinese literature, which includes three stories of Lu Xun: “Con Y Ki,” “The Tragedy of Ah Qui,” and “The Native Country.” It can be found from the title page that Mills based his translation on a French volume titled Anthologie des conteurs chinois modernes (1929) by Kyn Yn Yu 敬隐渔 (1901–1932) who translated from the Chinese. No other information than this is available, and research on Mills’s retranslation project remains scarce. In this section, I will break the ice by analyzing eight mistranslations in “Con Y Ki,” the first contact between Lu Xun and Mills.
1: 做工的人, 傍午傍晚散了工, 每每花四文铜钱, 买一碗酒,——这是二十多年前的事, 现在每碗要涨到十文。
Kyn: Vers le soir, après leur travail, les ouvriers venaient boire là, pour quatre sapèques—c’ était le prix d’il y a plus de vingt ans, à prèsent il est décuplé.
Mills: As evening came on, after their work, the workmen used to come there and drink, this cost four cash—that was their price more than twenty years ago, now it is ten times as much.
Kyn only translates 傍晚 (Vers le soir), but omits 傍午; moreover, he mistranslates 涨到十文 as “décuplé,” that is, forty coppers. Mills, following Kyn, makes the same mistakes in his translation: “As evening came on”; “ten times as much.”
Consult Yang & Yang’s translation: “When men come off work at midday and in the evening they spend four coppers on a bowl of wine—or so they did twenty years ago; now it costs ten.”
2: 所以过了几天, 掌柜又说我干不了这事。
Kyn: Peu de jours après, le patron m’ayant gourmandé pour ma sottise...
Mills: A few days later the landlord, after scolding me for my stupidity...
For 我干不了这事, “gourmandé pour ma sottise” is too strong in expression. Kyn obviously exaggerates the original Chinese meaning, and Mills follows suit in “scolding me for my stupidity.”
Consult Yang & Yang’s translation: “Thus it did not take my boss many days to decide that this job too was beyond me.”
3: 只有孔乙己到店, 才可以笑几声。
Kyn: Heureusement l’arrivée d’un certain Con-Y-Ki m’apportait l’occasion et la liberté de rire à mon aise.
Mills: Con-Y-Ki brought me the opportunity and the liberty to laugh to my heart’s content.
Here again, Kyn exaggerates the meaning of 笑几声 as “rire à mon aise,” and Milles makes the same mistake: “laugh to my heart’s content.”
Consult Yang & Yang’s translation: “The only times when there was any laughter were when Kong Yiji came to the tavern.”
4: ……争辩道, “窃书不能算偷……窃书！……读书人的事, 能算偷么？”接连便是难懂的话, 什么“君子固穷”, ……
Kyn: Con-Y-Ki protestait: « Voler des livres, ce n’est pas un vol... » C’ était ensuite un flot de paroles confucéennes: « Le sage se confirme dans la pauvreté... »
Mills: Con-Y-Ki protested: “Stealing books is not stealing... stealing books—that’s a learned man’s business: is that a theft?” Then followed a flood of Confucian maxims: “The wise man strengthens himself in poverty...”
君子固穷, a phrase from Confucian Analects, means that “a gentleman keeps his integrity even in poverty” . Mills’s rendition “strengthens himself in poverty” is as inaccurate as Kyn’s “se confirme dans la pauvreté.”
Of particular note is the rhetorical question 读书人的事, 能算偷么？, which is completely omitted by Kyn but perfectly translated by Mills: “ stealing books —that’s a learned man’ s business: is that a theft?”
5: 在这些时候, 我可以附和着笑, 掌柜是决不责备的。
Kyn : Dans ces moments-là je pouvais rire à mon aise, san être tancé par mon patron.
Mills: At such moments I could laugh at my ease, without having my ears boxed by the landlord.
To translate 责备 as “être tancé” is a sheer overstatement, and Mills’s “having my ears boxed” is even further from the original Chinese meaning.
Consult Yang & Yang’s translation: “At such times I could join in the laughter with no danger of a dressing-down from my boss.”
6: 懒懒的答他道, “谁要你教, 不是草头底下一个来回的回字么？”
Kyn: Je lui répondis en grognant: « Qui a besoin de ton enseignement? Ce caractère s’ ècrit en dix traits comme ça! »
Mills: I muttered an answer: “Who needs your instruction? That character is written in ten strokes, like this!”
Neither Kyn nor Mills is able to give a clear and direct translation of 草头底下一个来回的回字, which is by no means easy, but seems not that difficult for Yang & Yang: “Isn’t it the hui written with the element for grass?” Julia Lovell’s rendition is even better: “Anyway, it’s just 茴 hui, the hui for 'return’, with the grass radical on top, isn’t it?”
7: 一天的下半天, 没有一个顾客, ……
Kyn: Un après-midi, il n’y avait pas de clients...
Mills: One afternoon, when there were not many customers...
没有一个顾客 means there is not a single customer. Kyn’s French translation is correct, but Mills does not catch the exact meaning. Yang & Yang’s version is “One afternoon, when the tavern was deserted..,” and Julia Lovell’s is even clearer: “And there I was one afternoon, with no other customers about.”
8: 到中秋可是没有说, 再到年关也没有看见他. 我到现在终于没有见——大约孔乙己的确死了。
Kyn: A la mi-automne, il n’insista plus. A la fin de l’année, Con-Y-Ki n’a pas encore reparu. Peut-être Con-Y-Ki est-il vraiment mort.
Mills: At the mid-autumn feast he insisted no longer. At the end of the year Con-Y-Ki had still not appeared again. And to this day he has not appeared again. Perhaps Con-Y-Ki is really dead.
Kyn fails to translate the sentence 我到现在终于没有见, but Mills does not miss it at all: “And to this day he has not appeared again.”
From the above cases, it can be seen that although Mills translated from the French, he did not follow Kyn at every step, as clearly demonstrated in the fourth and eighth examples. Mills must have had Lu Xun’s original texts at hand, but his language ability seems to be insufficient to translate directly from the Chinese without consulting the French anthology. Thus, in several places he made the same mistakes as Kyn did. As for case seven, where Kyn is correct and Mills mistranslates, the error is probably due to his carelessness. Mills has left behind very few materials by which to probe into his life and work. The above speculations based on his translation, hopefully, are not far from the truth.
《阿Q正传》
IV
Since 1926, Lu Xun’s name and works beganto spread rapidly in the English-speaking world. In this historical process,especially in the early period, Chi-Chen Wang played an important role. Hisgreat contributions have not yet been fully recognized, and therefore deserve acritical introduction with copious references to his publications.
In 1939, Wang published Lusin: A Chronological Record (China Institute Bulletin, Vol. 3, No. 4), the first of its kind in English. Two years later, he published Ah Q and Others: Selected Stories of Lusin (Columbia University Press, 1941), which is the first English anthology of Lu Xun. During his life, Wang spared no effort in introducing Chinese literature to Western readership. In classical Chinese literature, he savored The Dream of the Red Chamber, which he translated twice in 1929 and 1958, respectively, and among modern Chinese writers, he admired Lu Xun.
The chronological record divides Lu Xun’s life into nine periods: Childhood and Youth; Adolescence; Student Days at Nanking; Japan: From Medicine to Literature; The Revolution; Beijing: Strenuous Hibernation; Beijing: From the Sidelines to the Arena; Xiamen, Guangzhou, Shanghai; The Last Days. During these nine periods, Wang introduced Lu Xun’s activities year by year, contributing astute comments on his creative work and thought. For example, after introducing the main plots of “Diary of a Madman” under the year of 1918, Wang writes:
The Diary is probably the most violent attack upon human society since Swift gave mankind the epithet of Yahoo and pronounced them to be the most despicable and unteachable of all animals.... The Diary is probably the most important single document for the understanding of Lusin’s character. It may be trite to say that the measure of one’s faith in mankind, the measure of his hopes and expectations that he entertains in regard to it, is in direct proportion to the violence of his attacks upon human foibles, frailties and cruelties, but it bears repeating in this connection because there are still many people who seem to think otherwise, who seem to regard those who eat their fellows in private but who shout justice and righteousness in public as their leaders and benefactors. Lusin’s bitter criticism of man comes, therefore, from his true love of man.
In addition to his pithy commentary, Wang also introduced English translations of Lu Xun’s fiction in order to provide further reading clues for Western readers. For example, after introducing “The Story of Ah Q” under the year of 1921, he wrote: “There are three translations of Ah Q available in English. The first one is by George Kin Leung and was published by The Commercial Press, Shanghai, in 1926, under the title The True Story of Ah Q. It is complete and unabridged. The second is translated from the French of Kyn Yn Yu, included in The Tragedy of Ah Qui and Other Modern Chinese Stories, The Dial Press, 1931. In this translation the first chapter has been omitted. The third translation is my own and appeared in three installments in China Today, November, 1935 to January, 1936.” “The True Story of Ah Q” was Wang’s first attempt at translating Lu Xun. Since then, he translated many more pieces and published them in 1941.
When Wang compiled his chronicle, the Second Sino-Japanese War was at a stalemate stage. Although Wang was in the United States, far from his native country, he never failed to keep track of what was happening in his motherland. In the introduction Wang writes:
The immediate decision to resist the Japanese invasion was made, of course, by the political and military leaders of our Government, but China would not have been able to resist so long, if the spirit of Ah Q still dominated. But Ah Q no longer dominates, if not dead. Instead, China is now dominated by a new spirit, the spirit of freedom and courage; China is dominated by a new belief, the belief that it is better to die fighting than to live in shame and humiliation. And Lusin, more than anyone else, was responsible for this change.
Here Wang was making use of the story of Ah Q to show his confidence in his motherland and his admiration for Lu Xun. Ah Q was a poor and oppressed farmer who did not have courage to fight against oppression but cheat himself through “psychological victory.” By criticizing this so-called “spirit of Ah Q,” Lu Xun called on Chinese people to bravely face problems and challenges and try to bring about change.
At the beginning of the introduction, Wang provides a general evaluation of Lu Xun, which is very insightful and worth quoting in full:
Lusin, the most important figure in contemporary Chinese literature, has been variously called the Gorky, the Voltaire and the Dean Swift of China and there is some justification for each of these comparisons. He is like Gorky in that he was all his life associated with revolutionary movements of his time; he is like Voltaire in his indefatigable energies and his brilliant paradoxes and wilting ironies; he is like Dean Swift in his brooding indignation again man’s degradation and depravity and his savage attacks upon man’s foibles and stupidities. But all these comparisons are, in the last analysis, misleading and they betray the superficiality and Euro-centric tendencies of those who made them. Lu Xun is different from Gorky because he came from a very different background, employed a different medium of expression and wrote for a different audience. He is different from Voltaire because his own paradoxes and ironies seemed to hurt himself as much as they hurt his victims, whereas Voltaire, being something of a showman, enjoyed his. He is different from Swift in that he never had any political ambitions, was never gnawed by discontent for himself, and never identified, could never have identified himself with the ruling class. He might have been a Gorky if his family background had been “ proletarian,” and he might have been as light-hearted as Voltaire and as self[1]centered as Swift, had China had been as free and independent as the France of Voltaire or the England of Swift. But China being what it was during Lusin’s life time, our author was saved from the frivolity of Voltaire and egotism of Swift. The humiliation of the Chinese nation and the sufferings of the Chinese people, however, sobered him and made him more of a Gorky (if we must make a comparison) than a Swift or a Voltaire although in his social background and his intellectual fastidiousness he was closer to the latter two men.
In the English world, Edgar Snow was the first to compare Lu Xun with Gorky and Voltaire. Such a comparison was useful, especially when Western readers had no idea of who Lu Xun was. People always need to use what they already know to understand what they do not know. But once they know something about it, it is indeed not appropriate to linger in the stage of simple comparison any longer. With this chronologic record of Lu Xun, Wang succeeded in deepening Westerners’ understanding of China’s foremost modern writer.
Two years after the Chronological Record, Wang published the first English anthology of Lu Xun’s fiction, which includes eleven stories. Lu Xun’s artistic achievement was of course the first reason for Wang’s choice. Another major reason was the social and cognitive value of Lu Xun’s fiction, which Wang explains in the introduction:
In these stories of Lusin, acclaimed the greatest of modern Chinese writers in his own country, the reader will be able to get glimpses of China through the eyes of one of its keenest and most original minds. Here he will find none of the considered sympathetic treatments at the bottom of which often lurks condescension; he will encounter no apologia that is invariably the earmark of Ah Q-ism and a sense of inferiority. Lusin was not constrained to be polite because he wrote primarily for a Chinese audience; he was not constrained to gloss over or to explain away China’s sore spots or disguise her weaknesses.
For Western readership, there are many ways to understand modern China, and reading Lu Xun’s fiction is undoubtedly the easiest and most fruitful way.
Before they were compiled in a single volume, the eleven stories of Lu Xun which Wang translated had been published separately in English journals in the United States and China, and had been revised to some extent before being included in Ah Q and Others. “Remorse” is a case in point. The translation was first published in Shanghai’s T’ien Hsia Monthly, vol. (August –September 1940). In this story, there is a passage describing Juansheng’s 涓生 psychological conflicts, which expresses Lu Xun’s thought about love and life:
那里虽然没有书给我看, 却还有安闲容得我想。待到孤身枯坐, 回忆从前, 这才觉得大半 年来, 只为了爱,——盲目的爱,——而将别的人生的要义全盘疏忽了。第一, 便是生活。人必生活着, 爱才有所附丽。世界上并非没有为了奋斗者而开的活路; 我也还未忘却翅子的扇动, 虽然比先前已经颓唐得多……
The translation in T’ien Hsia Monthly reads as follows:
Though there were no books that I wanted to read, I did find quiet and a chance to think, and then I realized that I had during the past seven or eight months, overlooked because of love—a blind love—the meaning and significance of human existence. The most important thing is life. One must live in order to embody love. It is not that there is in the world no road to life for those who are willing to make the struggle and I had not yet forgotten how to flap my wings, though somewhat less effectively than before.
The revised version in Ah Q and Others: Selected Stories of Lusin is reproduced below:
Though there were no books that I cared to read, I did find the atmosphere quiet and conducive to meditation. As I sat in the reading room and reviewed the past, I realized that during the past seven or eight months I had neglected—because of love, this blind love—other things in life just as important. The first of these is life itself, which is necessary for the embodiment of love and without which love cannot exist. There are still in this world roads to life for those who are willing to make the struggle, and I had not yet forgotten how to flap my wings, though I had become so much more ineffectual than I used to be.
Comparing the two versions, it is not difficult to find the improvement in the second one. 待到孤身枯坐, 回忆从前 was not translated in the first version, but was done quite faithfully in the second: “As I sat in the reading room and reviewed the past.” The first version translates 别的人生的要义 as “the meaning and significance of human existence,” which is not so true to the Chinese phrase, and fails to convey the meaning of 别的. The second version opts for the clearer “other things in life.” In addition, the word “ neglect” in replacement of “ overlook,” is closer to the original expression 全盘疏忽. These examples reveal Wang’s quest for excellence in translation.
After the appearance of Wang’s translation, its high quality was immediately recognized. A book review published in The Far Eastern Quarterly made this comment:
Ah Q and Others is as much Wang’s book as it is Lusin’s. For himself, by making such works as Dream of the Red Chamber and Ah Q and Others.
—each in its way Chinese to the marrow —not only accessible but understandable to theEnglish-reading world, is an interpreter and introducer par excellence. His slim volume of Lusinfills a large gap on any permanent Chinese shelf.
Finally, it is worth mentioning Wang’s spelling of Lu Xun’s name—Lusin, which is different from the common usage in Western languages at that time. Wang had his own reasons: “The correct spelling in the Wade system of transliteration is Lu Hsun, but the present form seems to have been preferred by the author himself, as can be seen quite clearly on the front cover of Huagai Ji 《华盖集》 (Under My Unlucky Star). I propose its adoption as the standard anglicized form of this pseudonym.” However reasonable Wang’s suggestion may have been, it was not accepted by other translators; therefore, “Lusin” has become a major hallmark of Wang’s translation and introduction of Lu Xun.
阿Q（严顺开 扮演）
V
“Huai Jiu” 《怀旧》 (Nostalgia) is a work belonging to Lu Xun’s earliest fiction, but because it was written in classical Chinese and was not collected in any volume before Lu Xun’s death, it attracted much less attention on the part of English translators. According to my research, Feng Yu-sing 冯余声 has been the first and only Chinese translator to deal with this piece so far. His translation, published in Republican Shanghai’ s T’ ien Hsia Monthly, Vol. 6, No. 2 (February 1938), is quite faithful, except for one serious mistake. The original Chinese is:
予……知耀宗曾以二十一岁无子, 急蓄妾三人, 而秃先生亦云以不孝有三, 无后为大, 故尝投三十一金, 购如夫人一, 则优礼之故, 自因耀宗纯孝。
Feng’s English translation is as follows:
I tried to find out the reason, and learned that Yiu Chung had bought three concubines when he was twenty-one, under the pretext of wanting a male child. To justify Yiu Chung’s actions Mr. Baldhead had quoted Confucius’ saying, “Of the three crimes against filial piety, not having a son comes first.” Because of that, Yiu Chung had given Mr. Baldhead the sum of thirty-one dollars as a present, and with this Mr. Baldhead had also bought a concubine for himself. So his courtesy to Yiu Chung was due to the latter’s friendly gift.
Here, Feng regarded “thirty-one dollars” as the gift presented to Mr. Baldhead, which is not correct. According to the original Chinese, the subject of 尝投三十一金, 购如夫人一 is Mr. Baldhead, who is omitted, and there is no clue here that he received any gift from Yiu Chung. His courtesy to Yiu Chung because of the latter’s friendly gift is a logical development from the previous sentence, rendered in the translated text as “Yiu Chung had given Mr. Baldhead the sum of thirty-one dollars as a present.” However, this does not accord with the original Chinese meaning, which is quiet clear: “His courtesy is because of Yiu Chung (Yaozong)’s filial piety.”
After Feng Yu-sing, the first foreign translator of “Nostalgia” was William A. Lyell, an American Sinologist. As an appendix, Lyell’s translation was first published in his 1976 research monograph Lu Hsun’s Vision of Reality, and later included in his complete translation of Lu Xun’s stories under the title of Diary of a Madman and Other Stories (1990). Generally speaking, Lyell’s translation corresponds very well to the original. But there are also a couple of mistakes, and one of them is quite serious, which also occurs where Feng made his mistake:
I remembered that in the past Yao-tsung, having reached the ripe old age of twenty-one without having sired a son, had taken three pretty concubines into his household. Baldy had also started mouthing the saying “There are three things that are unfilial and to lack posterity is the greatest of these” as if to justify Yao-tsung’s conduct. The latter was so moved by this that he gave Baldy twenty-one pieces of gold so that he too could buy a secondary wife. Thus I concluded that Baldy’s reason for treating Yao-tsung with such unusual courtesy was that the latter had shown himself to be thoroughly filial.
Here, Lyell translates 三十一金 as “twenty-one pieces of gold,” an obvious slip of the pen. The bigger trouble is that Lyell believes the gold was given by Yaozong to Mr. Baldy to buy concubines. According to the original text, however, the subject of 尝投三十一金, 购如夫人一 is Mr. Baldy, who is understood from the preceding sentence and therefore omitted. There is no indication of his acceptance of Yaozong’s gift. It is most likely that Lyell consulted Feng’ s translation when he dealt with this paragraph and made the same mistake. But we must quickly point out that his other mistakes have noting to do with Feng.
Lu Xun Da Cidian 《鲁迅大辞典》 (The Dictionary of Lu Xun) has the following entry on Feng Yu-sing’s life and work: “Feng Yu-sing, Cantonese, a member of the Chinese Left-wing Writers’ Union. In 1931, he translated Lu Xun’s Ye Cao 《野草》 (Wild Weeds) into English. After finishing it he wrote to Lu Xun asking for a preface and a photograph. On November 6 of the same year, Lu Xun wrote back to Feng with a preface to the English translation, together with two old photos. Later, he sold the translation to the Commercial Press and the manuscript was destroyed in the Shanghai war of January 28, 1933. Lu Xun later collected the preface in the Erxin Ji 《二心集》 (Volume of Two Minds).” To this brief record, it is apt to add a sentence: “Feng is the earliest English translator of 'Nostalgia.’”
VI
During the nearly thirty-year span between 1926 and 1954, most of Lu Xun’s short stories were translated into English, thanks to monumental efforts from various translators, who can be divided roughly into three categories: Western Sinologists such as E. H. F. Mills and George A. Kennedy, overseas Chinese translators such as Chi-Chen Wang, and local Chinese translators such as Feng Yu-sing. C. T. Hsia once praised Chi-Chen Wang as “a pioneering translator of modern Chinese fiction,” and dedicated his Twentieth-Century Chinese Stories of 1971 to Wang. It is true that Wang, with his outstanding achievements, has exerted a far-reaching influence on the translation and research of Lu Xun and modern Chinese literature in the English-speaking world. But one swallow does not make a spring; other early translators should be remembered and given equal tribute, especially those whose names are still unfamiliar or even unknown to us.
参考文献 Bibliography
Gibbs, Donald A. & LI Yun-chen. eds. A Bibliography of Studies and Translations of Modern Chinese Literature, 1918–1942. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1974.
Hanan, Patrick. “The Technique of Lu Hsun’s Fiction.” Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 34 (1974): 53−96.
Hsia, C. T. A History of Modern Chinese Fiction. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1961.
Isaacs, Harold R., ed. Straw Sandals: Chinese Short Stories, 1918–1933. Cambridge: The MIT Press, 1974.
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——. Selected Stories of Lu Hsun. Translated by YANG Xianyi & Gladys Yang. Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 1954.
——. Ah Q and Others: Selected Stories of Lusin. Translated by WANG Chi-Chen. New York: Columbia University Press, 1941.
Lyell, William A. Lu Hsun’s Vision of Reality. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1976.
Mills, E. H. F., trans. The Tragedy of Ah Qui and Other Modern Chinese Stories. London: George Routledge and Sons, 1930.
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孙伏园：《关于鲁迅先生》，《晨报副刊》1924 年 1 月 12 日。
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主持：纪建勋 责编：李颖涵
监审：刘耘华 姚申