路易斯托侖：造人術

Louise Strong: The Art of Creating Humanity

Translated by Suozi [Lu Xun]

Re-translated by Carlos Rojas

Translator’s Introduction

In 1905, thirteen years before Zhou Shuren 周樹人 adopted the pen name Lu Xun

魯迅 with the publication of his short story ‘Kuangren riji’ 狂人日記 [Diary of a

madman], he translated and published (under the pen name Suozi 索子) a short story

entitled ‘Zaoren shu’ 造人術 [The art of creating humanity] in the Chinese journal

Nüzi shijie 女子世界 [Women’s world]. The piece was followed by two commentaries,

by Lu Xun’s brother, Zhou Zuoren 周作人 (writing under the pen name Pingyun 萍 雲), and by the founding editor of Women’s World, Ding Zuyin 丁祖蔭 (writing under

his style name Chuwo 初我), respectively. Both the story and the commentaries are

translated below.

‘The Art of Creating Humanity’ was one of several science fiction translations Lu

Xun published as a young man while studying in Japan,1

but because Lu Xun had

apparently never referred to it again, the piece was subsequently overlooked and

was not rediscovered as one of Lu Xun’s own works until 1963.2

When it originally

appeared in Women’s World, the story was identified as being a translation of a work

by the American author Louise Jackson Strong (whose name is rendered in Chinese

as Luyi Situolun [路易斯托侖]), which was first published in 1903 in the literary

journal The Cosmopolitan under the title ‘An Unscientific Story’.3 In practice,

however, it is evident that Lu Xun was not translating the story directly from the

English, but rather was working from a Japanese translation and adaptation by

Hara H?itsu-an (1866–1904), which was published in Japan just months after the

original English-language version of the story. Quite likely unbeknownst to Lu

Xun, however, Hara only translated roughly the first seventh of Strong’s original

story, and furthermore took significant liberties with the part he did translate. Lu

Xun’s contemporary Bao Tianxiao 包天笑 translated the same work Chinese

again the following year for the Shanghai newspaper Shibao 時報, covering the

same portion of the story that Lu Xun did, though in a somewhat less abstruse

classical language.

Both Hara’s and Lu Xun’s texts cover only the initial portion of Strong’s story,

which describes the protagonist’s jubilation after creating a protean ‘life-germ’ (the

text of the corresponding portion of the original story is reprinted in Appendix

1). In the first paragraph from the remainder of Strong’s text (which is to say, the

portion that Hara and Lu Xun don’t translate), the narrative undergoes an abrupt

change of emotional tenor, as it shifts from the protagonist’s celebration of his initial

accomplishment to his anguished reflections on the implications of what he has

done:

He dropped, panting, his chair, and strove to collect and quiet his mind.

Not yet the time to make known the incredible fact. He must wait until

full development proved that it was indeed a living creation—with animal

nature and desires.

As it turns out, the protagonist has indeed produced a ‘living creation’, which quickly

develops a four-foot tall humanoid that the protagonist describes as ‘a caricature

of humanity’. The creature is quickly discovered to possess not only an ‘animal

nature and desires’, but even a ‘consciousness of its existence’. After a period, the

creature develops a swelling on its chest, and after the swollen tissue flakes off, it

grows a second organism just like the first. This process is repeated many

times until eventually the laboratory is full of creatures that the protagonist

describes as ‘monsters, who would prey on human flesh’. One day, he arrives at his

laboratory to find the creatures all huddled around a window, gazing voraciously

at the protagonist’s own children playing outside. He therefore resolves that the

creatures must all be destroyed, but before he is able to carry this out, they end

up killing themselves by deploying the protagonist’s explosive device on their own

accord. The protagonist survives the resulting blast, and when he awakens from his

coma three weeks later he reassures his wife that he has no intention of rebuilding

the laboratory, telling her that now he ‘belong[s] to you and the children’.

It is somehow fitting that Lu Xun—who is currently best known for his ‘Diary of a

Madman’, which describes an epidemic of cannibalism and concludes with a famous

call to ‘save the children’—would, at the very beginning of his literary career, publish

a translation of a story featuring a hoard of cannibalistic creatures and a focus

on children as a site of hope for the future. The fact that the original work’s focus

on cannibalism and children remains largely invisible within Lu Xun’s truncated

translation, meanwhile, mirrors the historical irony that this text about the origins

of life—and which is positioned at the virtual origins of Lu Xun’s own literary

career—remained unknown throughout Lu Xun’s subsequent career, and was not

rediscovered until several decades after his death.

—Carlos Rojas

NEXT TO A RESIDENCE in a sparse forest, there was a small cottage surrounded

on three sides by a high fence. The cottage had only a single, rectangular

window, facing south. The window was covered by a green silk curtain. The light

from the inside shone through it to the courtyard. It was a powerful electric light

that burned continuously, day and night.

This residence belonged to Mr Yinita, a professor and chemist affiliated with

the Boston Institute of Technology, and the cottage—which servants, and even

Yinita’s own wife, were forbidden to enter—was a sanctuary where he carried

out chemistry research.

Mr Yinita had quit his position at the university six years earlier, after which

he assiduously avoided all social functions and instead ensconced himself in this

cottage around the clock, keeping to a strict regime.

Rumour had it that Mr Yinita was striving to create a sprout of humanity with

which he hoped to amaze the world. It is true that this project sounded so removed

from reality as to be almost unbelievable, and when he happened to mention it

once at a banquet, everyone immediately demanded that he abandon it. Although

he, having a na?ve nature, did not accept this suggestion, he was eventually left

without any real supporters. As for his friends and family, respecting him as an

elder, they took for granted that the goal he was pursuing would benefit humanity

and help the world, and therefore never questioned why this would not be a worthy

service. If presented this way, his mental effort would not be not in vain.

But what was the reality?

The reality was that Mr Yinita had made it his life’s ambition to create this

sprout of humanity. To this end, he had already invested an enormous effort, and

for the past six years—or, for the past 2,190 days—there had not been a single

moment that he had forgotten this goal.

To this end, he had exhausted half his wealth and all but ignored his worldly

affairs. Everyone mocked him as fatuous, but he did not take offense. He

performed thousands of experiments, was not put off by failure, but instead would

only insist, If this can be done, then I will do it.

His self-confidence was as solid as a rock.

As a scholar who dedicated himself whole-heartedly to his research and

declined earthly pleasures, it goes without saying that he did not permit himself

to be distracted by the joys and frustrations of the mortal world, and it also

goes without saying that these emotions did not show themselves on his face. In

fact, from when he was twenty-five to his present thirty-eight-year-old self, his

appearance did not change in the slightest—a fact confirmed by all of his old

acquaintances.

But, what is he like now? What is he like at this present moment? Did his

demeanour become soberer day by day?

Look! His cheeks are flushed, he is breathing heavily, and his shoulders are

heaving.

His hands holding the microscope are trembling. What is this thing before

him that he is examining intently?

What is this?!

In front of Mr Yinita, there is a glass beaker on an old, free-standing table.

The beaker is lying on its side, and its contents look as though they are about to

pour out. A white mass of liquid is sluggishly oozing out of the beaker, and inside

this viscous mass there is an exceptionally dark and tiny bead. Yinita has his

gaze fixed on this.

Look at this! Look at this!

It’s as if this tiny black bead is alive, squirming, and taking form. It expands,

appears to breathe, and then to be able to flex. Is it material? Is it an object? Does

it even exist at all? Am I being deceived by an optical illusion? Are my eyes going

mad? Is my mind becoming confused?

No, no! Look again at this, look again!

Isn’t this protrusion its head? Isn’t this extension its wrist? Aren’t those two

appendages sprouting in the back its feet? Oh, this bizarre black bead is gradually

rising up. It appears as though it’s about to break out of the liquid, yet again it

seems to have difficulty going farther.

Mr Yinita feels a momentary chill, which gradually increases in intensity, and

he is getting agitated. He uses all of his intellect and training to calm himself.

After he manages to settle his nerves, he again focuses his eyes to carefully

examine this strange black bead.

After studying the bead for a long time, he notices that its body is becoming

more developed.

Look at it! Look! Look!

Two lines suddenly appear on the protrusion and are growing larger. Oh! They

are developing rifts, each opening a crack. Aha, are these not a pair of eyes?

The bead’s peppercorn-like eyes are twitching and blinking.

At that point, Mr Yinita, overjoyed, begins leaping about the room in a frenzy

of excitement, shouting,

Hooray! Have I not succeeded in unlocking the world’s secrets? Have I not

succeeded in explaining humanity’s mysteries? If the world has a primal creator,

then am I not the second? I can create life! I can create worlds! If I am not the

creator of everything under the sun, then who is? I beget all, peopling the peopled

people. I rule over all, as the king of the king of kings. What a wondrous thing it

is for a mortal to become a creator!

Tears of gratitude rolled down the cheeks of this new creator.

Commentaries

Pingyun [Zhou Zuoren] says: ‘The Art of Creating Humanity’ is an allegorical

fantasy, and, in Suozi’s translation, it represents baseless, extreme thinking. The

work claims that all of the evil in the world, together with the decline of public

morality, requires a great furnace to smelt it down; and that only then will it be

possible to carry out a process of natural ion so as to ensure the evolution of

the human social order. The story is in fact an expression of pessimism over the

condition of the world where not much can be done about it.

Does this world have a new creator? While most people would say that it

doesn’t, I believe it does. The women of the world are the mothers of their nations,

and as they produce strong men for the ancestral nation, their power equals that

of heaven and earth. They, therefore, are the true creators. Alas! Making human

beings from clay and creating the world—the Creator’s grace is to be celebrated,

yet following contemporary astronomical discoveries, we must grant that this

badge of the new creator cannot but be bestowed on our nation’s women. What a

wondrous thing it is for a mortal to become a creator! The 200 million women

in our nation are therefore the 200 million new creators. As a result, the seeds

of civilization may sprout, as the nation’s innate talent may be nurtured. In the

past there was a single creator, and the world was stable and well-governed.

Now, there are 200 million creators in our nation, and their contribution is great

beyond measure! In this Buddhist Avatamasaka World, when the heart feels it,

the truth is close at hand, so the mere art of creating humanity is not even worth

mentioning!

Chuwo [Ding Zuyin] says: I read ‘The Art of Creating Humanity’, and was

joyful. I read ‘The Art of Creating Humanity’, and was also fearful.

Using art to forge new matter is something about which one should indeed be

joyful, though broadcasting evil and disseminating fallacies is something about

which one should rightly be fearful.

Moreover, while it is a nation’s mothers who create and forge the national

citizenry, it is nevertheless educational texts that create and forge the nation’s

mothers themselves.

Appendix 1:

Louise J. Strong, ‘An Unscientific Story’ [excerpt]4

He sat, tense and rigid with excitement, expectancy, incredulity. Was it possible,

after so many years of study, effort, and failure? Could it be that at last success

rewarded him? He hardly dared to breathe lest he should miss something of the

wonderful spectacle. How long he had sat thus he did not know; he had not stirred

for hours—or was it days?—except to adjust the light by means of the button

under his hand.

His laboratory, at the foot of his garden, was lighted day and night in the inner

room (his private workshop) with electricity, and no one was admitted but by

especial privilege.

Some things he had accomplished for the good of mankind, more he hoped

to accomplish, but most of all he had been searching for, and striving to create,

the life-germ. He had spent many of his years and much of his great wealth

in unsuccessful experiments. He had met ridicule and unbelief with Stoical

indifference, upheld by the conviction that he would finally prove the truth of his

theories. Over and over again, defeat and disappointment had dashed aside his

hopes; over and over again, he had rallied and gone on with a dogged persistence.

And now! He could not realize it yet! He leaned back, and clasped his hands

over his closed eyes. Perhaps he had imagined it—his over-strained nerves

having deceived him. Was it an optical illusion? It had happened before. There

had been times when he felt that he had torn aside the veil, and grasped the


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