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Lu Xun (Lu Hsun)
The New Year‘s Sacrifice --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Written: February 7, 1924
Source: Selected Stories of Lu Hsun, Published by Foreign Languages Press, Peking, 1960, 1972 Transcribed: Original transcription from coldbacon.com HTML Markup: Mike B. for MIA, 2006 Public Domain: Marxists Internet Archive (2006). You may freely copy, distribute, display and perform this work; as well as make derivative and commercial works. Please credit “Marxists Internet Archive” as your source. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- New Year‘s Eve of the old calendar1 seems after all more like the real New Year‘s Eve; for, to say nothing of the villages and towns, even in the air there is a feeling that New Year is coming. From the pale, lowering evening clouds issue frequent flashes of lightning, followed by a rumbling sound of firecrackers celebrating the departure of the Hearth God; while, nearer by, the firecrackers explode even more violently, and before the deafening report dies away the air is filled with a faint smell of powder. It was on such a night that I returned to Luchen, my native place. Although I call it my native place, I had had no home there for some time, so I had to put up temporarily with a certain Mr. Lu, the fourth son of his family. He is a member of our clan, and belongs to the generation before mine, so I ought to call him "Fourth Uncle." An old student of the imperial college2 who went in for Neo-Confucianism, I found him very little changed in any way, simply slightly older, but without any moustache as yet. When we met, after exchanging a few polite remarks he said I was fatter, and after saying that immediately started a violent attack on the revolutionaries. I knew this was not meant personally, because the object of the attack was still Kang Yu-wei.3 Nevertheless, conversation proved difficult, so that in a short time I found myself alone in the study.
The next day I got up very late, and after lunch went out to see some relatives and friends. The day after I did the same. None of them was greatly changed, simply slightly older; but every family was busy preparing for "the sacrifice." This is the great end-of-year ceremony in Luchen, when people reverently welcome the God of Fortune and solicit good fortune for the coming year. They kill chickens and geese and buy pork, scouring and scrubbing until all the women‘s arms turn red in the water. Some of them still wear twisted silver bracelets. After the meat is cooked some chopsticks are thrust into it at random, and this is called the "offering." It is set out at dawn when incense and candles are lit, and they reverently invite the God of Fortune to come and partake of the offering. Only men can be worshippers, and after the sacrifice they naturally continue to let off firecrackers as before. This happens every year, in every family, provided they can afford to buy the offering and firecrackers; and this year they naturally followed the old custom.
The day grew overcast. In the afternoon it actually started to snow, the biggest snow-flakes as large as plum blossom petals fluttered about the sky; and this, combined with the smoke and air of activity, made Luchen appear in a ferment. When I returned to my uncle‘s study the roof of the house was already white with snow. The room also appeared brighter, the great red rubbing hanging on the wall showing up very clearly the character for Longevity written by the Taoist saint Chen Tuan.4 One of a pair of scrolls had fallen down and was lying loosely rolled up on the long table, but the other was still hanging there, bearing the words: "By understanding reason we achieve tranquillity of mind." Idly, I went to turn over the books on the table beneath the window, but all I could find was a pile of what looked like an incomplete set of Kang Hsi‘s Dictionary,5a volume of Chiang Yung‘s Notes to Chu Hsi‘s Philosophical Writings. and a volume of Commentaries on the Four Books.6 At all events, I made up my mind to leave the next day.
Besides, the very thought of my meeting with Hsiang Lin‘s Wife the day before made me uncomfortable. It happened in the afternoon. I had been visiting a friend in the eastern part of the town. As I came out I met her by the river, and seeing the way she fastened her eyes on me I knew very well she meant to speak to me. Of all the people I had seen this time at Luchen none had changed as much as she: her hair, which had been streaked with white five years before, was now completely white, quite unlike someone in her forties. Her face was fearfully thin and dark in its sallowness, and had moreover lost its former expression of sadness, looking as if carved out of wood. Only an occasional flicker of her eyes showed she was still a living creature. In one hand she carried a wicker basket, in which was a broken bowl, empty; in the other she held a bamboo pole longer than herself, split at the bottom: it was clear she had become a beggar.
I stood still, waiting for her to come and ask for money.
"You have come back?" she asked me first.
"Yes."
"That is very good. You are a scholar, and have travelled too and seen a lot. I just want to ask you something." Her lustreless eyes suddenly gleamed.
I never guessed she would talk to me like this. I stood there taken by surprise.
"It is this." She drew two paces nearer, and whispered very confidentially: "After a person dies, does he turn into a ghost or not?"
As she fixed her eyes on me I was seized with foreboding. A shiver ran down my spine and I felt more nervous than during an unexpected examination at school, when unfortunately the teacher stands by one‘s side. Personally, I had never given the least thought to the question of the existence of spirits. In this emergency how should I answer her? Hesitating for a moment, I reflected: "It is the tradition here to believe in spirits, yet she seems to be sceptical—perhaps it would be better to say she hopes: hopes that there is immortality and yet hopes that there is not. Why increase the sufferings of the wretched? To give her something to look forward to, it would be better to say there is."
"There may be, I think," I told her hesitantly.
"Then, there must also be a Hell?"
"What, Hell?" Greatly startled, I could only try to evade the question. "Hell? According to reason there should be one too—but not necessarily. Who cares about it anyway? . . ."
"Then will all the people of one family who have died see each other again?"
"Well, as to whether they will see each other again or not. . . ." I realized now that I was a complete fool; for all my hesitation and reflection I had been unable to answer her three questions. Immediately I lost confidence and wanted to say the exact opposite of what I had previously said. "In this case . . . as a matter of fact, I am not sure. . . . Actually, regarding the question of ghosts, I am not sure either."
In order to avoid further importunate questions, I walked off, and beat a hasty retreat to my uncle‘s house, feeling exceedingly uncomfortable. I thought to myself: "I am afraid my answer will prove dangerous to her. Probably it is just that when other people are celebrating she feels lonely by herself, but could there be another reason? Could she have had some premonition? If there is another reason, and as a result something happens, then, through my answer, I shall be held responsible to a certain extent." Finally, however, I ended by laughing at myself, thinking that such a chance meeting could have no great significance, and yet I was taking it so to heart; no wonder certain educationalists called me a neurotic. Moreover I had distinctly said, "I am not sure," contradicting my previous answer; so that even if anything did happen, it would have nothing at all to do with me.
"I am not sure" is a most useful phrase.
Inexperienced and rash young men often take it upon themselves to solve people‘s problems for them or choose doctors for them, and if by any chance things turn out badly, they are probably held to blame; but by simply concluding with this phrase "I am not sure," one can free oneself of all responsibility. At this time I felt even more strongly the necessity for such a phrase, since even in speaking with a beggar woman there was no dispensing with it.
However, I continued to feel uncomfortable, and even after a night‘s rest my mind kept running on this, as if I had a premonition of some untoward development. In that oppressive snowy weather, in the gloomy study, this discomfort increased. It would be better to leave: I should go back to town the next day. The boiled shark‘s fins in the Fu Hsing Restaurant used to cost a dollar for a large portion, and I wondered if this cheap and delicious dish had increased in price or not. Although the friends who had accompanied me in the old days had scattered, even if I was alone the shark‘s fins still had to be tasted. At all events, I made up my mind to leave the next day.
After experiencing many times that things which I hoped would not happen and felt should not happen invariably did happen, I was desperately afraid this would prove another such case. And, indeed, strange things did begin to happen. Towards evening I heard talking—it sounded like a discussion—in the inner room; but soon the conversation ended, and all I heard was my uncle saying loudly as he walked out: "Not earlier nor later, but just at this time—sure sign of a bad character!"
At first I felt astonished, then very uncomfortable, thinking these words must refer to me. I looked outside the door, but no one was there. I contained myself with difficulty till their servant came in before dinner to brew a pot of tea, when at last I had a chance to make some enquiries.
"With whom was Mr. Lu angry just now?" I asked.
"Why, still with Hsiang Lin‘s Wife," he replied briefly.
"Hsiang Lin‘s Wife? How was that?" I asked again.
"She‘s dead."
"Dead?" My heart suddenly missed a beat. I started, and probably changed colour too. But since he did not raise his head, he was probably quite unaware of how I felt. Then I controlled myself, and asked:
"When did she die?"
"When? Last night, or else today, I‘m not sure."
"How did she die?"
"How did she die? Why, of poverty of course." He answered placidly and, still without having raised his head to look at me, went out.
However, my agitation was only short-lived, for now that something I had felt imminent had already taken place, I no longer had to take refuge in my "I‘m not sure," or the servant‘s expression "dying of poverty" for comfort. My heart already felt lighter. Only from time to time something still seemed to weigh on it. Dinner was served, and my uncle solemnly accompanied me. I wanted to ask about Hsiang Lin‘s Wife, but knew that although he had read, "Ghosts and spirits are properties of Nature,"7 he had retained many superstitions, and on the eve of this sacrifice it was out of the question to mention anything like death or illness. In case of necessity one could use veiled allusions, but unfortunately I did not know how to, so although questions kept rising to the tip of my tongue, I had to bite them back. From his solemn expression I suddenly suspected that he looked on me as choosing not earlier nor later but just this time to come and trouble him, and that I was also a bad character; therefore to set his mind at rest I told him at once that I intended to leave Luchen the next day and go back to the city. He did not press me greatly to stay. So we quietly finished the meal.
In winter the days are short and, now that it was snowing, darkness already enveloped the whole town. Everybody was busy beneath the lamplight, but outside the windows it was very quiet. Snow-flakes fell on the thickly piled snow, as if they were whispering, making me feel even more lonely. I sat by myself under the yellow gleam of the vegetable oil lamp and thought, "This poor woman, abandoned by people in the dust as a tiresome and worn-out toy, once left her own imprint in the dust, and those who enjoy life must have wondered at her for wishing to prolong her existence; but now at least she has been swept clear by eternity. Whether spirits exist or not I do not know; but in the present world when a meaningless existence ends, so that someone whom others are tired of seeing is no longer seen, it is just as well, both for the individual concerned and for others." I listened quietly to see if I could hear the snow falling outside the window, still pursuing this train of thought, until gradually I felt less ill at ease.
Fragments of her life, seen or heard before, now combined to form one whole.
She did not belong to Luchen. One year at the beginning of winter, when my uncle‘s family wanted to change their maidservant, Old Mrs. Wei brought her in and introduced her. Her hair was tied with white bands, she wore a black skirt, blue jacket and pale green bodice, and was about twenty-six, with a pale skin but rosy cheeks. Old Mrs. Wei called her Hsiang Lin‘s Wife, and said that she was a neighbour of her mother‘s family, and because her husband was dead she wanted to go out to work. My uncle knitted his brows and my aunt immediately understood that he disapproved of her because she was a widow. She looked very suitable, though, with big strong feet and hands, and a meek expression; and she had said nothing but showed every sign of being tractable and hard-working. So my aunt paid no attention to my uncle‘s frown, but kept her. During the period of probation she worked from morning till night, as if she found resting dull, and she was so strong that she could do a man‘s work; accordingly on the third day it was settled, and each month she was to be paid five hundred cash.
Everybody called her Hsiang Lin‘s Wife. They did not ask her her own name; but since she was introduced by someone from Wei Village who said she was a neighbour, presumably her name was also Wei. She was not very talkative, only answering when other people spoke to her, and her answers were brief. It was not until a dozen days or so had passed that they learned little by little that she still had a severe mother-in-law at home and a younger brother-in-law more than ten years old, who could cut wood. Her husband, who had been a woodcutter too, had died in the spring. He had been ten years younger than she. 8 This little was all that people learned from her.
The days passed quickly. She worked as hard as ever; she would eat anything, and did not spare herself. Everybody agreed that the Lu family had found a very good maidservant, who really got through more work than a hard-working man. At the end of the year she swept, mopped, killed chickens and geese and sat up to boil the sacrificial meat, single-handed, so the family did not have to hire extra help. Nevertheless she, on her side, was satisfied; gradually the trace of a smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. She became plumper and her skin whiter.
New Year was scarcely over when she came back from washing rice by the river looking pale, and said that in the distance she had just seen a man wandering on the opposite bank who looked very like her husband‘s cousin, and probably he had come to look for her. My aunt, much alarmed, made detailed enquiries, but failed to get any further information. As soon as my uncle learned of it he frowned and said, "This is bad. She must have run away from her husband‘s family."
Before long this inference that she had run away was confirmed.
About a fortnight later, just as everybody was beginning to forget what had happened, Old Mrs. Wei suddenly called, bringing with her a woman in her thirties who, she said, was the maidservant‘s mother-in-law. Although the woman looked like a villager, she behaved with great self-possession and had a ready tongue in her head. After the usual polite remarks she apologized for coming to take her daughter-in-law home, saying there was a great deal to be done at the beginning of spring, and since there were only old people and children at home they were short-handed. "Since it is her mother-in-law who wants her to go back, what is there to be said?" was my uncle‘s comment.
Thereupon her wages were reckoned up. They amounted to one thousand seven hundred and fifty cash, all of which she had left with her mistress without using a single coin. My aunt gave the entire amount to her mother-in-law. The latter also took her clothes, thanked Mr. and Mrs. Lu and went out. By this time it was already noon.
"Oh, the rice! Didn‘t Hsiang Lin‘s Wife go to wash the rice?" my aunt exclaimed some time later. Probably she was rather hungry, so that she remembered lunch.
Thereupon everybody set about looking for the rice basket. My aunt went first to the kitchen, then to the hall, then to the bedroom; but not a trace of it was to be seen anywhere. My uncle went outside, but could not find it either; only when he went right down to the riverside did he see it, set down fair and square on the bank, with a bundle of vegetables beside it.
Some people there told him that a boat with a white awning had moored there in the morning, but since the awning covered the boat completely they did not know who was inside, and before this incident no one had paid any attention to it. But when Hsiang Lin‘s Wife came to wash rice, two men looking like country people jumped off the boat just as she was kneeling down and seizing hold of her carried her on board. After several shouts and cries, Hsiang Lin‘s Wife became silent: they had probably stopped her mouth. Then two women walked up, one of them a stranger and the other Old Mrs. Wei. When the people who told this story tried to peep into the boat they could not see very clearly, but Hsiang Lin‘s Wife seemed to be lying bound on the floor of the boat.
"Disgraceful! Still ..." said my uncle.
That day my aunt cooked the midday meal herself, and my cousin Ah Niu lit the fire.
After lunch Old Mrs. Wei came again.
"Disgraceful!" said my uncle.
"What is the meaning of this? How dare you come here again!" My aunt, who was washing dishes, started scolding as soon as she saw her. "You recommended her yourself, and then plotted to have her carried off, causing all this stir. What will people think? Are you trying to make a laughing-stock of our family?"
"Aiya, I was really taken in! Now I have come specially to clear up this business. When she asked me to find her work, how was I to know that she had left home without her mother-in-law‘s consent? I am very sorry, Mr. Lu, Mrs. Lu. Because I am so old and foolish and careless, I have offended my patrons. However, it is lucky for me that your family is always so generous and kind, and unwilling to be hard on your inferiors. This time I promise to find you someone good to make up for my mistake."
"Still . . ." said my uncle.
Thereupon the business of Hsiang Lin‘s Wife was concluded, and before long it was also forgotten.
Only my aunt, because the maidservants taken on afterwards were all lazy or fond of stealing food, or else both lazy and fond of stealing food, with not a good one in the lot, still often spoke of Hsiang Lin‘s Wife. On such occasions she would always say to herself, "I wonder what has become of her now?" meaning that she would like to have her back. But by the following New Year she too gave up hope.
The New Year‘s holiday was nearly over when Old Mrs. Wei, already half tipsy, came to pay her respects, and said it was because she had been back to Wei Village to visit her mother‘s family and stayed a few days that she had come late. During the course of conversation they naturally came to speak of Hsiang Lin‘s Wife.
"She?" said Mrs. Wei cheerfully. "She is in luck now. When her mother-in-law dragged her home, she had already promised her to the sixth son of the Ho family in Ho Village. Not long after she reached home they put her in the bridal chair and sent her off."
"Aiya! What a mother-in-law!" exclaimed my aunt in amazement.
"Ah, madam, you really talk like a great lady! We country folk, poor women, think nothing of that. She still had a younger brother-in-law who had to be married. And if they hadn‘t found her a husband, where would they have found the money for his wedding? But her mother-in-law is a clever and capable woman, who knows how to drive a good bargain, so she married her off into the mountains. If she had married her to someone in the same village, she wouldn‘t have got so much money; but since very few women are willing to marry someone living deep in the mountains, she got eighty thousand cash. Now the second son is married, the presents only cost her fifty thousand, and after paying the wedding expenses she still has over ten thousand left. Just think, doesn‘t this show she knows how to drive a good bargain? . . ."
"But was Hsiang Lin‘s Wife willing?"
"It wasn‘t a question of being willing or not. Of course anyone would have protested. They just tied her up with a rope, stuffed her into the bridal chair, carried her to the man‘s house, put on the bridal headdress, performed the ceremony in the hall and locked them in their room; and that was that. But Hsiang Lin‘s Wife is quite a character. I heard she really put up a great struggle, and everybody said she was different from other people because she had worked in a scholar‘s family. We go-betweens, madam, see a great deal. When widows remarry, some cry and shout, some threaten to commit suicide, some when they have been carried to the man‘s house won‘t go through the ceremony, and some even smash the wedding candlesticks. But Hsiang Lin‘s Wife was different from the rest. They said she shouted and cursed all the way, so that by the time they had carried her to Ho Village she was completely hoarse. When they dragged her out of the chair, although the two chairbearers and her young brother-in-law used all their strength, they couldn‘t force her to go through the ceremony. The moment they were careless enough to loosen their grip—gracious Buddha!—she threw herself against a corner of the table and knocked a big hole in her head. The blood poured out; and although they used two handfuls of incense ashes and bandaged her with two pieces of red cloth, they still couldn‘t stop the bleeding. Finally it took all of them together to get her shut up with her husband in the bridal chamber, where she went on cursing. Oh, it was really dreadful!" She shook her head, cast down her eyes and said no more.
"And after that what happened?" asked my aunt.
"They said the next day she still didn‘t get up," said Old Mrs. Wei, raising her eyes.
"And after?"
"After? She got up. At the end of the year she had a baby, a boy, who was two this New Year.9 These few days when I was at home some people went to Ho Village, and when they came back they said they had seen her and her son, and that both mother and baby are fat. There is no mother-in-law over her, the man is a strong fellow who can earn a living, and the house is their own. Well, well, she is really in luck."
After this even my aunt gave up talking of Hsiang Lin‘s Wife.
But one autumn, two New Years after they heard how lucky Hsiang Lin‘s Wife had been, she actually reappeared on the threshold of my uncle‘s house. On the table she placed a round bulb-shaped basket, and under the eaves a small roll of bedding. Her hair was still wrapped in white bands, and she wore a black skirt, blue jacket and pale green bodice. But her skin was sallow and her cheeks had lost their colour; she kept her eyes downcast, and her eyes, with their tear-stained rims, were no longer bright. Just as before, it was Old Mrs. Wei, looking very benevolent, who brought her in, and who explained at length to my aunt:
"It was really a bolt from the blue. Her husband was so strong, nobody could have guessed that a young fellow like that would die of typhoid fever. First he seemed better, but then he ate a bowl of cold rice and the sickness came back. Luckily she had the boy, and she can work, whether it is chopping wood, picking tea-leaves or raising silkworms; so at first she was able to carry on. Then who could believe that the child, too, would be carried off by a wolf? Although it was nearly the end of spring, still wolves came to the village—how could anyone have guessed that? Now she is all on her own. Her brother-in-law came to take the house, and turned her out; so she has really no way open to her but to come and ask help from her former mistress. Luckily this time there is nobody to stop her, and you happen to be wanting a new servant, so I have brought her here. I think someone who is used to your ways is much better than a new hand. . . ."
"I was really stupid, really . . ." Hsiang Lin‘s Wife raised her listless eyes to say. "I only knew that when it snows the wild beasts in the glen have nothing to eat and may come to the villages; I didn‘t know that in spring they came too. I got up at dawn and opened the door, filled a small basket with beans and called our Ah Mao to go and sit on the threshold and shell the beans. He was very obedient and always did as I told him: he went out. Then I chopped wood at the back of the house and washed the rice, and when the rice was in the pan and I wanted to boil the beans I called Ah Mao, but there was no answer; and when I went our to look, all I could see was beans scattered on the ground, but no Ah Mao. He never went to other families to play; and in fact at each place where I went to ask, there was no sign of him. I became desperate, and begged people to go to look for him. Only in the afternoon, after looking everywhere else, did they go to look in the glen and see one of his little shoes caught on a bramble. ‘That‘s bad,‘ they said, ‘he must have met a wolf.‘ And sure enough when they went further in there he was, lying in the wolf‘s lair, with all his entrails eaten away, his hand still tightly clutching that little basket. . . ." At this point she started crying, and was unable to complete the sentence.
My aunt had been undecided at first, but by the end of this story the rims of her eyes were rather red. After thinking for a moment she told her to take the round basket and bedding into the servants‘ quarters. Old Mrs. Wei heaved a long sigh as if relieved of a great burden. Hsiang Lin‘s Wife looked a little more at ease than when she first came and, without having to be told the way, quietly took away her bedding. From this time on she worked again as a maidservant in Luchen.
Everybody still called her Hsiang Lin‘s Wife.
However, she had changed a great deal. She had not been there more than three days before her master and mistress realized that she was not as quick as before. Since her memory was much worse, and her impassive face never showed the least trace of a smile, my aunt already expressed herself very far from satisfied. When the woman first arrived, although my uncle frowned as before, because they invariably had such difficulty in finding servants he did not object very strongly, only secretly warned my aunt that while such people may seem very pitiful they exert a bad moral influence. Thus although it would be all right for her to do ordinary work she must not join in the preparations for sacrifice; they would have to prepare all the dishes themselves, for otherwise they would be unclean and the ancestors would not accept them.
The most important event in my uncle‘s household was the ancestral sacrifice, and formerly this had been the busiest time for Hsiang Lin‘s Wife; but now she had very little to do. When the table was placed in the centre of the hall and the curtain fastened, she still remembered how to set out the winecups and chopsticks in the old way.
"Hsiang Lin‘s Wife, put those down!" said my aunt hastily.
She sheepishly withdrew her hand and went to get the candlesticks.
"Hsiang Lin‘s Wife, put those down!" cried my aunt hastily again. "I‘ll fetch them."
After walking round several times without finding anything to do, Hsiang Lin‘s Wife could only go hesitantly away. All she did that day was to sit by the stove and feed the fire.
The people in the town still called her Hsiang Lin‘s Wife, but in a different tone from before; and although they talked to her still, their manner was colder. She did not mind this in the least, only, looking straight in front of her, she would tell everybody her story, which night or day was never out of her mind.
"I was really stupid, really," she would say. "I only knew that when it snows the wild beasts in the glen have nothing to eat and may come to the villages; I didn‘t know that in spring they came too. I got up at dawn and opened the door, filled a small basket with beans and called our Ah Mao to go and sit on the threshold and shell them. He was very obedient and always did as I told him: he went out. Then I chopped wood at the back of the house and washed the rice, and when the rice was in the pan and I wanted to boil the beans I called Ah Mao, but there was no answer; and when I went out to look, all I could see was beans scattered on the ground, but no Ah Mao. He never went to other families to play; and in fact at each place where I went to ask, there was no sign of him. I became desperate, and begged people to go to look for him. Only in the afternoon, after looking everywhere else, did they go to look in the glen and see one of his little shoes caught on a bramble. ‘That‘s bad,‘ they said, ‘he must have met a wolf.‘ And sure enough when they went further in there he was, lying in the wolf‘s lair, with all his entrails eaten away, his hand still tightly clutching that small basket. . . ." At this point she would start crying and her voice would trail away.
This story was rather effective, and when men heard it they often stopped smiling and walked away disconcerted, while the women not only seemed to forgive her but their faces immediately lost their contemptuous look and they added their tears to hers. There were some old women who had not heard her speaking in the street, who went specially to look for her, to hear her sad tale. When her voice trailed away and she started to cry, they joined in, shedding the tears which had gathered in their eyes. Then they sighed, and went away satisfied, exchanging comments.
She asked nothing better than to tell her sad story over and over again, often gathering three or four hearers. But before long everybody knew it by heart, until even in the eyes of the most kindly, Buddha fearing old ladies not a trace of tears could be seen. In the end, almost everyone in the town could recite her tale, and it bored and exasperated them to hear it.
"I was really stupid, really . . ." she would begin.
"Yes, you only knew that in snowy weather the wild beasts in the mountains had nothing to eat and might come down to the villages." Promptly cutting short her recital, they walked away.
She would stand there open-mouthed, looking at them with a dazed expression, and then go away too, as if she also felt disconcerted. But she still brooded over it, hoping from other topics such as small baskets, beans and other people‘s children, to lead up to the story of her Ah Mao. If she saw a child of two or three, she would say, "Oh dear, if my Ah Mao were still alive, he would be just as big. . . ."
Children seeing the look in her eyes would take fright and, clutching the hems of their mothers‘ clothes, try to tug them away. Thereupon she would be left by herself again, and finally walk away disconcerted. Later everybody knew what she was like, and it only needed a child present for them to ask her with an artificial smile, "Hsiang Lin‘s Wife, if your Ah Mao were alive, wouldn‘t he be just as big as that?"
She probably did not realize that her story, after having been turned over and tasted by people for so many days, had long since become stale, only exciting disgust and contempt; but from the way people smiled she seemed to know that they were cold and sarcastic, and that there was no need for her to say any more. She would simply look at them, not answering a word.
In Luchen people celebrate New Year in a big way: preparations start from the twentieth day of the twelfth month onwards. That year my uncle‘s household found it necessary to hire a temporary manservant, but since there was still a great deal to do they also called in another maidservant, Liu Ma, to help. Chickens and geese had to be killed; but Liu Ma was a devout woman who abstained from meat, did not kill living things, and would only wash the sacrificial dishes. Hsiang Lin‘s Wife had nothing to do but feed the fire. She sat there, resting, watching Liu Ma as she washed the sacrificial dishes. A light snow began to fall.
"Dear me, I was really stupid," began Hsiang Lin‘s Wife, as if to herself, looking at the sky and sighing.
"Hsiang Lin‘s Wife, there you go again," said Liu Ma, looking at her impatiently. "I ask you: that wound on your forehead, wasn‘t it then you got it?"
"Uh, huh," she answered vaguely.
"Let me ask you: what made you willing after all?"
"Me?"
"Yes. What I think is, you must have been willing; otherwise. . . ."
"Oh dear, you don‘t know how strong he was.
"I don‘t believe it. I don‘t believe he was so strong that you really couldn‘t keep him off. You must have been willing, only you put the blame on his being so strong."
"Oh dear, you . . . you try for yourself and see." She smiled.
Liu Ma‘s lined face broke into a smile too, making it wrinkled like a walnut; her small beady eyes swept Hsiang Lin‘s Wife‘s forehead and fastened on her eyes. As if rather embarrassed, Hsiang Lin‘s Wife immediately stopped smiling, averted her eyes and looked at the snow-flakes.
"Hsiang Lin‘s Wife, that was really a bad bargain," continued Liu Ma mysteriously. "If you had held out longer or knocked yourself to death, it would have been better. As it is, after living with your second husband for less than two years, you are guilty of a great crime. Just think: when you go down to the lower world in future, these two men‘s ghosts will fight over you. To which will you go? The King of Hell will have no choice but to cut you in two and divide you between them. I think, really. . . . ."
Then terror showed in her face. This was something she had never heard in the mountains.
"I think you had better take precautions beforehand. Go to the Tutelary God‘s Temple and buy a threshold to be your substitute, so that thousands of people can walk over it and trample on it, in order to atone for your sins in this life and avoid torment after death."
At the time Hsiang Lin‘s Wife said nothing, but she must have taken this to heart, for the next morning when she got up there were dark circles beneath her eyes. After breakfast she went to the Tutelary God‘s Temple at the west end of the village, and asked to buy a threshold. The temple priests would not agree at first, and only when she shed tears did they give a grudging consent. The price was twelve thousand cash.
She had long since given up talking to people, because Ah Mao‘s story was received with such contempt; but news of her conversation with Liu Ma that day spread, and many people took a fresh interest in her and came again to tease her into talking. As for the subject, that had naturally changed to deal with the wound on her forehead.
"Hsiang Lin‘s Wife, I ask you: what made you willing after all that time?" one would cry.
"Oh, what a pity, to have had this knock for nothing," another looking at her scar would agree.
Probably she knew from their smiles and tone of voice that they were making fun of her, for she always looked steadily at them without saying a word, and finally did not even turn her head. All day long she kept her lips tightly closed, bearing. on her head the scar which everyone considered a mark of shame, silently shopping, sweeping the floor, washing vegetables, preparing rice. Only after nearly a year did she take from my aunt her wages which had accumulated. She changed them for twelve silver dollars, and asking for leave went to the west end of the town. In less time than it takes for a meal she was back again, looking much comforted, and with an unaccustomed light in her eyes. She told my aunt happily that she had bought a threshold in the Tutelary God‘s Temple.
When the time came for the ancestral sacrifice at the winter equinox, she worked harder than ever, and seeing my aunt take out the sacrificial utensils and with Ah Niu carry the table into the middle of the hall, she went confidently to fetch the winecups and chopsticks.
"Put those down, Hsiang Lin‘s Wife!" my aunt called out hastily.
She withdrew her hand as if scorched, her face turned ashen-grey, and instead of fetching the candlesticks she just stood there dazed. Only when my uncle came to burn incense and told her to go, did she walk away. This time the change in her was very great, for the next day not only were her eyes sunken, but even her spirit seemed broken. Moreover she became very timid, not only afraid of the dark and shadows, but also of the sight of anyone. Even her own master or mistress made her look as frightened as a little mouse that has come out of its hole in the daytime. For the rest, she would sit stupidly, like a wooden statue. In less than half a year her hair began to turn grey, and her memory became much worse, reaching a point when she was constantly forgetting to go and prepare the rice.
"What has come over Hsiang Lin‘s Wife? It would really have been better not to have kept her that time." My aunt would sometimes speak like this in front of her, as if to warn her.
However, she remained this way, so that it was impossible to see any hope of her improving. They finally decided to get rid of her and tell her to go back to Old Mrs. Wei. While I was at Luchen they were still only talking of this; but judging by what happened later, it is evident that this was what they must have done. Whether after leaving my uncle‘s household she became a beggar, or whether she went first to Old Mrs. Wei‘s house and later became a beggar, I do not know.
I was woken up by firecrackers exploding noisily close at hand, saw the glow of the yellow oil lamp as large as a bean, and heard the splutter of fireworks as my uncle‘s household celebrated the sacrifice. I knew that it was nearly dawn. I felt bewildered, hearing as in a dream the confused continuous sound of distant crackers which seemed to form one dense cloud of noise in the sky, joining the whirling snow-flakes to envelop the whole town. Wrapped in this medley of sound, relaxed and at ease, the doubt which had preyed on me from dawn to early night was swept clean away by the atmosphere of celebration, and I felt only that the saints of heaven and earth had accepted the sacrifice and incense and were all reeling with intoxication in the sky, preparing to give the people of Luchen boundless good fortune.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Notes
1. The Chinese lunar calendar. 2. The highest institute of learning in the Ching dynasty.
3. A famous reformist who lived from 1858 to 1927 and advocated constitutional monarchy.
4. A hermit at the beginning of the tenth century.
5. A Chinese dictionary compiled under the auspices of Emperor Kang Hsi who reigned from 1662 to 1722.
6. Confucian classics.
7. A Confucian saying.
8. In old China it used to be common in country districts for young women to be married to boys of ten or eleven. The bride‘s labour could then he exploited hy her husband‘s family.
9. It was the custom in China to reckon a child as one year old at birth, and to add another year to his age as New Year.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lu Xun Internet Archive
Back to Reference Archive 祝福 舊歷的年底畢竟最像年底，村鎮(zhèn)上不必說，就在天空中也顯出將到新年的氣象來?；野咨某林氐耐碓浦虚g時時發(fā)出閃光，接著一聲鈍響，是送灶的爆竹；近處燃放的可就更強(qiáng)烈了，震耳的大音還沒有息，空氣里已經(jīng)散滿了幽微的火藥香。我是正在這一夜回到我的故鄉(xiāng)魯鎮(zhèn)的。雖說故鄉(xiāng)，然而已沒有家，所以只得暫寓在魯四老爺?shù)恼永?。他是我的本家，比我長一輩，應(yīng)該稱之曰“四叔”，是一個講理學(xué)的老監(jiān)生。他比先前并沒有什么大改變，單是老了些，但也還末留胡子，一見面是寒暄，寒暄之后說我“胖了”，說我“胖了”之后即大罵其新黨。但我知道，這并非借題在罵我：因為他所罵的還是康有為。但是，談話是總不投機(jī)的了，于是不多久，我便一個人剩在書房里。 第二天我起得很遲，午飯之后，出去看了幾個本家和朋友；第三天也照樣。他們也都沒有什么大改變，單是老了些；家中卻一律忙，都在準(zhǔn)備著“祝福”。這是魯鎮(zhèn)年終的大典，致敬盡禮，迎接福神，拜求來年一年中的好運(yùn)氣的。殺雞，宰鵝，買豬肉，用心細(xì)細(xì)的洗，女人的臂膊都在水里浸得通紅，有的還帶著絞絲銀鐲子。煮熟之后，橫七豎八的插些筷子在這類東西上，可就稱為“福禮”了，五更天陳列起來，并且點上香燭，恭請福神們來享用，拜的卻只限于男人，拜完自然仍然是放爆竹。年年如此，家家如此，——只要買得起福禮和爆竹之類的——今年自然也如此。天色愈陰暗了，下午竟下起雪來，雪花大的有梅花那么大，滿天飛舞，夾著煙靄和忙碌的氣色，將魯鎮(zhèn)亂成一團(tuán)糟。我回到四叔的書房里時，瓦楞上已經(jīng)雪白，房里也映得較光明，極分明的顯出壁上掛著的朱拓的大“壽”字，陳摶老祖寫的，一邊的對聯(lián)已經(jīng)脫落，松松的卷了放在長桌上，一邊的還在，道是“事理通達(dá)心氣和平”。我又無聊賴的到窗下的案頭去一翻，只見一堆似乎未必完全的《康熙字典》，一部《近思錄集注》和一部《四書襯》。無論如何、我明天決計要走了。 況且，一直到昨天遇見祥林嫂的事，也就使我不能安住。那是下午，我到鎮(zhèn)的東頭訪過一個朋友，走出來，就在河邊遇見她；而且見她瞪著的眼睛的視線，就知道明明是向我走來的。我這回在魯鎮(zhèn)所見的人們中，改變之大，可以說無過于她的了：五年前的花白的頭發(fā)，即今已經(jīng)全白，會不像四十上下的人；臉上瘦削丕堪，黃中帶黑，而且消盡了先前悲哀的神色，仿佛是木刻似的；只有那眼珠間或一輪，還可以表示她是一個活物。她一手提著竹籃。內(nèi)中一個破碗，空的；一手技著一支比她更長的竹竿，下端開了裂：她分明已經(jīng)純乎是一個乞丐了。 我就站住，豫備她來討錢。 “你回來了？”她先這樣問。 “是的。” “這正好。你是識字的，又是出門人，見識得多。我正要問你一件事——”她那沒有精采的眼睛忽然發(fā)光了。 我萬料不到她卻說出這樣的話來，詫異的站著。 “就是——”她走近兩步，放低了聲音，極秘密似的切切的說，“一個人死了之后，究竟有沒有魂靈的？” 我很悚然，一見她的眼釘著我的，背上也就遭了芒刺一般，比在學(xué)校里遇到不及豫防的臨時考，教師又偏是站在身旁的時候，惶急得多了。對于魂靈的有無，我自己是向來毫不介意的；但在此刻，怎樣回答她好呢？我在極短期的躊躇中，想，這里的人照例相信鬼，“然而她，卻疑惑了，——或者不如說希望：希望其有，又希望其無……，人何必增添末路的人的苦惱，一為她起見，不如說有罷。 “也許有罷，——我想。”我于是吞吞吐虹的說。 “那么，也就有地獄了？” “??！地獄？”我很吃驚，只得支吾者，“地獄？——論理，就該也有。——然而也未必，……誰來管這等事……。” “那么，死掉的一家的人，都能見面的？” “唉唉，見面不見面呢？……”這時我已知道自己也還是完全一個愚人，什么躊躇，什么計畫，都擋不住三句問，我即刻膽怯起來了，便想全翻過先前的話來，“那是，……實在，我說不清……。其實，究竟有沒有魂靈，我也說不清。” 我乘她不再緊接的問，邁開步便走，勿勿的逃回四叔的家中，心里很覺得不安逸。自己想，我這答話怕于她有些危險。她大約因為在別人的祝福時候，感到自身的寂寞了，然而會不會含有別的什么意思的呢？——或者是有了什么豫感了？倘有別的意思，又因此發(fā)生別的事，則我的答活委實該負(fù)若干的責(zé)任……。但隨后也就自笑，覺得偶爾的事，本沒有什么深意義，而我偏要細(xì)細(xì)推敲，正無怪教育家要說是生著神經(jīng)病；而況明明說過“說不清”，已經(jīng)推翻了答話的全局，即使發(fā)生什么事，于我也毫無關(guān)系了。 “說不清”是一句極有用的話。不更事的勇敢的少年，往往敢于給人解決疑問，選定醫(yī)生，萬一結(jié)果不佳，大抵反成了怨府，然而一用這說不清來作結(jié)束，便事事逍遙自在了。我在這時，更感到這一句話的必要，即使和討飯的女人說話，也是萬不可省的。 但是我總覺得不安，過了一夜，也仍然時時記憶起來，仿佛懷著什么不祥的豫感，在陰沉的雪天里，在無聊的書房里，這不安愈加強(qiáng)烈了。不如走罷，明天進(jìn)城去。福興樓的請墩魚翅，一元一大盤，價廉物美，現(xiàn)在不知增價了否？往日同游的朋友，雖然已經(jīng)云散，然而魚翅是不可不吃的，即使只有我一個……。無論如何，我明天決計要走了。 我因為常見些但愿不如所料，以為未畢竟如所料的事，卻每每恰如所料的起來，所以很恐怕這事也一律。果然，特別的情形開始了。傍晚，我竟聽到有些人聚在內(nèi)室里談話，仿佛議論什么事似的，但不一會，說話聲也就止了，只有四叔且走而且高聲的說： “不早不遲，偏偏要在這時候——這就可見是一個謬種！” 我先是詫異，接著是很不安，似乎這話于我有關(guān)系。試望門外，誰也沒有。好容易待到晚飯前他們的短工來沖茶，我才得了打聽消息的機(jī)會。 “剛才，四老爺和誰生氣呢？”我問。 “還不是和樣林嫂？”那短工簡捷的說。 “祥林嫂？怎么了？”我又趕緊的問。 “老了。” “死了？”我的心突然緊縮，幾乎跳起來，臉上大約也變了色，但他始終沒有抬頭，所以全不覺。我也就鎮(zhèn)定了自己，接著問： “什么時候死的？” “什么時候？——昨天夜里，或者就是今天罷?！艺f不清。” “怎么死的？” “怎么死的？——還不是窮死的？”他淡然的回答，仍然沒有抬頭向我看，出去了。 然而我的驚惶卻不過暫時的事，隨著就覺得要來的事，已經(jīng)過去，并不必仰仗我自己的“說不清”和他之所謂“窮死的”的寬慰，心地已經(jīng)漸漸輕松；不過偶然之間，還似乎有些負(fù)疚。晚飯擺出來了，四叔儼然的陪著。我也還想打聽些關(guān)于祥林嫂的消息，但知道他雖然讀過“鬼神者二氣之良能也”，而忌諱仍然極多，當(dāng)臨近祝福時候，是萬不可提起死亡疾病之類的話的，倘不得已，就該用一種替代的隱語，可惜我又不知道，因此屢次想問，而終于中止了。我從他儼然的臉色上，又忽而疑他正以為我不早不遲，偏要在這時候來打攪他，也是一個謬種，便立刻告訴他明天要離開魯鎮(zhèn)，進(jìn)城去，趁早放寬了他的心。他也不很留。這佯悶悶的吃完了一餐飯。 冬季日短，又是雪天，夜色早已籠罩了全市鎮(zhèn)。人們都在燈下匆忙，但窗外很寂靜。雪花落在積得厚厚的雪褥上面，聽去似乎瑟瑟有聲，使人更加感得沉寂。我獨(dú)坐在發(fā)出黃光的萊油燈下，想，這百無聊賴的祥林嫂，被人們棄在塵芥堆中的，看得厭倦了的陳舊的玩物，先前還將形骸露在塵芥里，從活得有趣的人們看來，恐怕要怪訝她何以還要存在，現(xiàn)在總算被無常打掃得于干凈凈了?；觎`的有無，我不知道；然而在現(xiàn)世，則無聊生者不生，即使厭見者不見，為人為己，也還都不錯。我靜聽著窗外似乎瑟瑟作響的雪花聲，一面想，反而漸漸的舒暢起來。 然而先前所見所聞的她的半生事跡的斷片，至此也聯(lián)成一片了。 她不是魯鎮(zhèn)人。有一年的冬初，四叔家里要換女工，做中人的衛(wèi)老婆子帶她進(jìn)來了，頭上扎著白頭繩，烏裙，藍(lán)夾襖，月白背心，年紀(jì)大約二十六七，臉色青黃，但兩頰卻還是紅的。衛(wèi)老婆子叫她祥林嫂，說是自己母家的鄰舍，死了當(dāng)家人，所以出來做工了。四叔皺了皺眉，四嬸已經(jīng)知道了他的意思，是在討厭她是一個寡婦。但是她模樣還周正，手腳都壯大，又只是順著限，不開一句口，很像一個安分耐勞的人，便不管四叔的皺眉，將她留下了。試工期內(nèi)，她整天的做，似乎閑著就無聊，又有力，簡直抵得過一個男子，所以第三天就定局，每月工錢五百文。 大家都叫她祥林嫂；沒問她姓什么，但中人是衛(wèi)家山人，既說是鄰居，那大概也就姓衛(wèi)了。她不很愛說話，別人問了才回答，答的也不多。直到十幾天之后，這才陸續(xù)的知道她家里還有嚴(yán)厲的婆婆，一個小叔子，十多歲，能打柴了；她是春天沒了丈夫的；他本來也打柴為生，比她小十歲：大家所知道的就只是這一點。 日子很快的過去了，她的做工卻毫沒有懈，食物不論，力氣是不惜的。人們都說魯四老爺家里雇著了女工，實在比勤快的男人還勤快。到年底，掃塵，洗地，殺雞，宰鵝，徹夜的煮福禮，全是一人擔(dān)當(dāng)，竟沒有添短工。然而她反滿足，口角邊漸漸的有了笑影，臉上也白胖了。 新年才過，她從河邊掏米回來時，忽而失了色，說剛才遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)地看見幾個男人在對岸徘徊，很像夫家的堂伯，恐怕是正在尋她而來的。四嬸很驚疑，打聽底細(xì)，她又不說。四叔一知道，就皺一皺眉，道： “這不好。恐怕她是逃出來的。” 她誠然是逃出來的，不多久，這推想就證實了。 此后大約十幾天，大家正已漸漸忘卻了先前的事，衛(wèi)老婆子忽而帶了一個三十多歲的女人進(jìn)來了，說那是詳林嫂的婆婆。那女人雖是山里人模樣，然而應(yīng)酬很從容，說話也能干，寒暄之后，就賠罪，說她特來叫她的兒媳回家去，因為開春事務(wù)忙，而家中只有老的和小的，人手不夠了。 “既是她的婆婆要她回去，那有什么話可說呢。”四叔說。 于是算清了工錢，一共一千七百五十文，她全存在主人家，一文也還沒有用，便都交給她的婆婆。那女人又取了衣服，道過謝，出去了。其時已經(jīng)是正午。 “阿呀，米呢？祥林嫂不是去淘米的么？……”好一會，四嬸這才驚叫起來。她大約有些餓，記得午飯了。 于是大家分頭尋淘籮。她先到廚下，次到堂前，后到臥房，全不見掏籮的影子。四叔踱出門外，也不見，一直到河邊，才見平平正正的放在岸上，旁邊還有一株菜。 看見的人報告說，河里面上午就泊了一只白篷船，篷是全蓋起來的，不知道什么人在里面，但事前也沒有人去理會他。待到祥林嫂出來掏米，剛剛要跪下去，那船里便突然跳出兩個男人來，像是山里人，一個抱住她，一個幫著，拖進(jìn)船去了。樣林嫂還哭喊了幾聲，此后便再沒有什么聲息，大約給用什么堵住了罷。接著就走上兩個女人來，一個不認(rèn)識，一個就是衛(wèi)婆于。窺探艙里，不很分明，她像是捆了躺在船板上。 “可惡！然而……。”四叔說。 這一天是四嬸自己煮中飯；他們的兒子阿牛燒火。 午飯之后，衛(wèi)老婆子又來了。 “可惡！”四叔說。 “你是什么意思？虧你還會再來見我們。”四嬸洗著碗，一見面就憤憤的說，“你自己薦她來，又合伙劫她去，鬧得沸反盈天的，大家看了成個什么樣子？你拿我們家里開玩笑么？” “阿呀阿呀，我真上當(dāng)。我這回，就是為此特地來說說清楚的。她來求我薦地方，我那里料得到是瞞著她的婆婆的呢。對不起，四老爺，四太太。總是我老發(fā)昏不小心，對不起主顧。幸而府上是向來寬洪大量，不肯和小人計較的。這回我一定薦一個好的來折罪……。” “然而……。”四叔說。 于是祥林嫂事件便告終結(jié)，不久也就忘卻了。 只有四嫂，因為后來雇用的女工，大抵非懶即饞，或者饞而且懶，左右不如意，所以也還提起祥林嫂。每當(dāng)這些時候，她往往自言自語的說，“她現(xiàn)在不知道怎么佯了？”意思是希望她再來。但到第二年的新正，她也就絕了望。 新正將盡，衛(wèi)老婆子來拜年了，已經(jīng)喝得醉醺醺的，自說因為回了一趟衛(wèi)家山的娘家，住下幾天，所以來得遲了。她們問答之間，自然就談到祥林嫂。 “她么？”衛(wèi)若婆子高興的說，“現(xiàn)在是交了好運(yùn)了。她婆婆來抓她回去的時候，是早已許給了賀家坳的貿(mào)老六的，所以回家之后不幾天，也就裝在花轎里抬去了。” “阿呀，這樣的婆婆！……”四嬸驚奇的說。 “阿呀，我的太太！你真是大戶人家的太太的話。我們山里人，小戶人家，這算得什么？她有小叔子，也得娶老婆。不嫁了她，那有這一注錢來做聘禮？他的婆婆倒是精明強(qiáng)干的女人呵，很有打算，所以就將地嫁到里山去。倘許給本村人，財禮就不多；惟獨(dú)肯嫁進(jìn)深山野坳里去的女人少，所以她就到手了八十千?，F(xiàn)在第二個兒子的媳婦也娶進(jìn)了，財禮花了五十，除去辦喜事的費(fèi)用，還剩十多千。嚇，你看，這多么好打算？……” “祥林嫂竟肯依？……” “這有什么依不依。——鬧是誰也總要鬧一鬧的，只要用繩子一捆，塞在花轎里，抬到男家，捺上花冠，拜堂，關(guān)上房門，就完事了?？墒窃斄稚┱娉龈瘢犝f那時實在鬧得利害，大家還都說大約因為在念書人家做過事，所以與眾不同呢。太太，我們見得多了：回頭人出嫁，哭喊的也有，說要尋死覓活的也有，抬到男家鬧得拜不成天地的也有，連花燭都砸了的也有。樣林嫂可是異乎尋常，他們說她一路只是嚎，罵，抬到賀家坳，喉嚨已經(jīng)全啞了。拉出轎來，兩個男人和她的小叔子使勁的捺住她也還拜不成夭地。他們一不小心，一松手，阿呀，阿彌陀佛，她就一頭撞在香案角上，頭上碰了一個大窟窿，鮮血直流，用了兩把香灰，包上兩塊紅布還止不住血呢。直到七手八腳的將她和男人反關(guān)在新房里，還是罵，阿呀呀，這真是……。”她搖一搖頭，順下眼睛，不說了。 “后來怎么樣呢？”四婢還問。 “聽說第二天也沒有起來。”她抬起眼來說。 “后來呢？” “后來？——起來了。她到年底就生了一個孩子，男的，新年就兩歲了。我在娘家這幾天，就有人到賀家坳去，回來說看見他們娘兒倆，母親也胖，兒子也胖；上頭又沒有婆婆，男人所有的是力氣，會做活；房子是自家的?！ΠΓ媸墙涣撕眠\(yùn)了。” 從此之后，四嬸也就不再提起祥林嫂。 但有一年的秋季，大約是得到祥林嫂好運(yùn)的消息之后的又過了兩個新年，她竟又站在四叔家的堂前了。桌上放著一個荸薺式的圓籃，檐下一個小鋪蓋。她仍然頭上扎著白頭繩，烏裙，藍(lán)夾祆，月白背心，臉色青黃，只是兩頰上已經(jīng)消失了血色，順著眼，眼角上帶些淚痕，眼光也沒有先前那樣精神了。而且仍然是衛(wèi)老婆子領(lǐng)著，顯出慈悲模樣，絮絮的對四嬸說： “……這實在是叫作‘天有不測風(fēng)云’，她的男人是堅實人，誰知道年紀(jì)青青，就會斷送在傷寒上？本來已經(jīng)好了的，吃了一碗冷飯，復(fù)發(fā)了。幸虧有兒子；她又能做，打柴摘茶養(yǎng)蠶都來得，本來還可以守著，誰知道那孩子又會給狼銜去的呢？春天快完了，村上倒反來了狼，誰料到？現(xiàn)在她只剩了一個光身了。大伯來收屋，又趕她。她真是走投無路了，只好來求老主人。好在她現(xiàn)在已經(jīng)再沒有什么牽掛，太太家里又凄巧要換人，所以我就領(lǐng)她來?！蚁?，熟門熟路，比生手實在好得多……。” “我真傻，真的，”祥林嫂抬起她沒有神采的眼睛來，接著說。“我單知道下雪的時候野獸在山坳里沒有食吃，會到村里來；我不知道春天也會有。我一清早起來就開了門，拿小籃盛了一籃豆，叫我們的阿毛坐在門檻上剝豆去。他是很聽話的，我的話句句聽；他出去了。我就在屋后劈柴，掏米，米下了鍋，要蒸豆。我叫阿毛，沒有應(yīng)，出去口看，只見豆撒得一地，沒有我們的阿毛了。他是不到別家去玩的；各處去一問，果然沒有。我急了，央人出去尋。直到下半天，尋來尋去尋到山坳里，看見刺柴上桂著一只他的小鞋。大家都說，糟了，怕是遭了狼了。再進(jìn)去；他果然躺在草窠里，肚里的五臟已經(jīng)都給吃空了，手上還緊緊的捏著那只小籃呢。……”她接著但是嗚咽，說不出成句的話來。 四嬸起刻還躊躊，待到聽完她自己的話，眼圈就有些紅了。她想了一想，便教拿圓籃和鋪蓋到下房去。衛(wèi)老婆子仿佛卸了一肩重相似的噓一口氣，祥林嫂比初來時候神氣舒暢些，不待指引，自己馴熟的安放了鋪蓋。她從此又在魯鎮(zhèn)做女工了。 大家仍然叫她祥林嫂。 然而這一回，她的境遇卻改變得非常大。上工之后的兩三天，主人們就覺得她手腳已沒有先前一樣靈活，記性也壞得多，死尸似的臉上又整日沒有笑影，四嬸的口氣上，已頗有些不滿了。當(dāng)她初到的時候，四叔雖然照例皺過眉，但鑒于向來雇用女工之難，也就并不大反對，只是暗暗地告誡四姑說，這種人雖然似乎很可憐，但是敗壞風(fēng)俗的，用她幫忙還可以，祭祀時候可用不著她沾手，一切飯萊，只好自已做，否則，不干不凈，祖宗是不吃的。 四叔家里最重大的事件是祭祀，祥林嫂先前最忙的時候也就是祭祀，這回她卻清閑了。桌子放在堂中央，系上桌幃，她還記得照舊的去分配酒杯和筷子。 “祥林嫂，你放著罷！我來擺。”四嬸慌忙的說。 她訕訕的縮了手，又去取燭臺。 “祥林嫂，你放著罷！我來拿。”四嬸又慌忙的說。 她轉(zhuǎn)了幾個圓圈，終于沒有事情做，只得疑惑的走開。她在這一天可做的事是不過坐在灶下燒火。 鎮(zhèn)上的人們也仍然叫她祥林嫂，但音調(diào)和先前很不同；也還和她講話，但笑容卻冷冷的了。她全不理會那些事，只是直著眼睛，和大家講她自己日夜不忘的故事： “我真傻，真的，”她說，“我單知道雪天是野獸在深山里沒有食吃，會到村里來；我不知道春天也會有。我一大早起來就開了門，拿小籃盛了一籃豆，叫我們的阿毛坐在門檻上剝豆去。他是很聽話的孩子，我的話句句聽；他就出去了。我就在屋后劈柴，淘米，米下了鍋，打算蒸豆。我叫，‘阿毛！’沒有應(yīng)。出去一看，只見豆撒得滿地，沒有我們的阿毛了。各處去一向，都沒有。我急了，央人去尋去。直到下半天，幾個人尋到山坳里，看見刺柴上掛著一只他的小鞋。大家都說，完了，怕是遭了狼了；再進(jìn)去；果然，他躺在草窠里，肚里的五臟已經(jīng)都給吃空了，可憐他手里還緊緊的捏著那只小籃呢。……”她于是淌下眼淚來，聲音也嗚咽了。 這故事倒頗有效，男人聽到這里，往往斂起笑容，沒趣的走了開去；女人們卻不獨(dú)寬恕了她似的，臉上立刻改換了鄙薄的神氣，還要陪出許多眼淚來。有些老女人沒有在街頭聽到她的話，便特意尋來，要聽她這一段悲慘的故事。直到她說到嗚咽，她們也就一齊流下那停在眼角上的眼淚，嘆息一番，滿足的去了，一面還紛紛的評論著。 她就只是反復(fù)的向人說她悲慘的故事，常常引住了三五個人來聽她。但不久，大家也都聽得純熟了，便是最慈悲的念佛的老太太們，眼里也再不見有一點淚的痕跡。后來全鎮(zhèn)的人們幾乎都能背誦她的話，一聽到就煩厭得頭痛。 “我真傻，真的，”她開首說。 “是的，你是單知道雪天野獸在深山里沒有食吃，才會到村里來的。”他們立即打斷她的話，走開去了。 她張著口怔怔的站著，直著眼睛看他們，接著也就走了，似乎自己也覺得沒趣。但她還妄想，希圖從別的事，如小籃，豆，別人的孩子上，引出她的阿毛的故事來。倘一看見兩三歲的小孩子，她就說： “唉唉，我們的阿毛如果還在，也就有這么大了……” 孩子看見她的眼光就吃驚，牽著母親的衣襟催她走。于是又只剩下她一個，終于沒趣的也走了，后來大家又都知道了她的脾氣，只要有孩子在眼前，便似笑非笑的先問她，道： “祥林嫂，你們的阿毛如果還在，不是也就有這么大了么？” 她未必知道她的悲哀經(jīng)大家咀嚼賞鑒了許多天，早已成為渣滓，只值得煩厭和唾棄；但從人們的笑影上，也仿佛覺得這又冷又尖，自己再沒有開口的必要了。她單是一瞥他們，并不回答一句話。 魯鎮(zhèn)永遠(yuǎn)是過新年，臘月二十以后就火起來了。四叔家里這回須雇男短工，還是忙不過來，另叫柳媽做幫手，殺雞，宰鵝；然而柳媽是善女人，吃素，不殺生的，只肯洗器皿。祥林嫂除燒火之外，沒有別的事，卻閑著了，坐著只看柳媽洗器皿。微雪點點的下來了。 “唉唉，我真傻，”祥林嫂看了天空，嘆息著，獨(dú)語似的說。 “祥林嫂，你又來了。”柳媽不耐煩的看著她的臉，說。“我問你：你額角上的傷痕，不就是那時撞壞的么？” “晤晤。”她含胡的回答。 “我問你：你那時怎么后來竟依了呢？” “我么？……”， “你呀。我想：這總是你自己愿意了，不然……。” “阿阿，你不知道他力氣多么大呀。” “我不信。我不信你這么大的力氣，真會拗他不過。你后來一定是自己肯了，倒推說他力氣大。” “阿阿，你……你倒自己試試著。”她笑了。 柳媽的打皺的臉也笑起來，使她蹙縮得像一個核桃，干枯的小眼睛一看祥林嫂的額角，又釘住她的眼。祥林嫂似很局促了，立刻斂了笑容，旋轉(zhuǎn)眼光，自去看雪花。 “祥林嫂，你實在不合算。”柳媽詭秘的說。“再一強(qiáng)，或者索性撞一個死，就好了?，F(xiàn)在呢，你和你的第二個男人過活不到兩年，倒落了一件大罪名。你想，你將來到陰司去，那兩個死鬼的男人還要爭，你給了誰好呢？閻羅大王只好把你鋸開來，分給他們。我想，這真是……” 她臉上就顯出恐怖的神色來，這是在山村里所未曾知道的。 “我想，你不如及早抵當(dāng)。你到土地廟里去捐一條門檻，當(dāng)作你的替身，給千人踏，萬人跨，贖了這一世的罪名，免得死了去受苦。” 她當(dāng)時并不回答什么話，但大約非常苦悶了，第二天早上起來的時候，兩眼上便都圍著大黑圈。早飯之后，她便到鎮(zhèn)的西頭的土地廟里去求捐門檻，廟祝起初執(zhí)意不允許，直到她急得流淚，才勉強(qiáng)答應(yīng)了。價目是大錢十二千。她久已不和人們交口，因為阿毛的故事是早被大家厭棄了的；但自從和柳媽談了天，似乎又即傳揚(yáng)開去，許多人都發(fā)生了新趣味，又來逗她說話了。至于題目，那自然是換了一個新樣，專在她額上的傷疤。 “祥林嫂，我問你：你那時怎么竟肯了？”一個說。 “唉，可惜，白撞了這－下。”一個看著她的疤，應(yīng)和道。 她大約從他們的笑容和聲調(diào)上，也知道是在嘲笑她，所以總是瞪著眼睛，不說一句話，后來連頭也不回了。她整日緊閉了嘴唇，頭上帶著大家以為恥辱的記號的那傷痕，默默的跑街，掃地，洗萊，淘米?？靿蛞荒辏艔乃膵鹗掷镏×藲v來積存的工錢，換算了十二元鷹洋，請假到鎮(zhèn)的西頭去。但不到一頓飯時候，她便回來，神氣很舒暢，眼光也分外有神，高興似的對四嬸說，自己已經(jīng)在土地廟捐了門檻了。 冬至的祭祖時節(jié)，她做得更出力，看四嬸裝好祭品，和阿牛將桌子抬到堂屋中央，她便坦然的去拿酒杯和筷子。 “你放著罷，祥林嫂！”四嬸慌忙大聲說。 她像是受了炮烙似的縮手，臉色同時變作灰黑，也不再去取燭臺，只是失神的站著。直到四叔上香的時候，教她走開，她才走開。這一回她的變化非常大，第二天，不但眼睛窈陷下去，連精神也更不濟(jì)了。而且很膽怯，不獨(dú)怕暗夜，怕黑影，即使看見人，雖是自己的主人，也總惴惴的，有如在白天出穴游行的小鼠，否則呆坐著，直是一個木偶人。不半年，頭發(fā)也花白起來了，記性尤其壞，甚而至于常常忘卻了去掏米。 “祥林嫂怎么這樣了？倒不如那時不留她。”四嬸有時當(dāng)面就這樣說，似乎是警告她。 然而她總?cè)绱?，全不見有伶俐起來的希望。他們于是想打發(fā)她走了，教她回到衛(wèi)老婆于那里去。但當(dāng)我還在魯鎮(zhèn)的時候，不過單是這樣說；看現(xiàn)在的情狀，可見后來終于實行了。然而她是從四叔家出去就成了乞丐的呢，還是先到衛(wèi)老婆子家然后再成乞丐的呢？那我可不知道。 我給那些因為在近旁而極響的爆竹聲驚醒，看見豆一般大的黃色的燈火光，接著又聽得畢畢剝剝的鞭炮，是四叔家正在“祝福”了；知道已是五更將近時候。我在蒙朧中，又隱約聽到遠(yuǎn)處的爆竹聲聯(lián)綿不斷，似乎合成一天音響的濃云，夾著團(tuán)團(tuán)飛舞的雪花，擁抱了全市鎮(zhèn)。我在這繁響的擁抱中，也懶散而且舒適，從白天以至初夜的疑慮，全給祝福的空氣一掃而空了，只覺得天地圣眾歆享了牲醴和香煙，都醉醺醺的在空中蹣跚，豫備給魯鎮(zhèn)的人們以無限的幸福。 一九二四年二月七日 ?。ㄔ?924年3月25日《東方雜志》第21卷第6號） |
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