Novel Old News Notes: Lu Xun's Annotations

Author: Lu Xun
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 1997-11-01
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(The Twelve Notes of "Xiangzu") Xu Shenweng said to Cai Jing: "The heavens have sent down many demons to the human world, causing chaos." Cai asked, "How can we recognize them?" Xu smiled and said, "Even the Grand Tutor is one." According to "The Legend of Water Margin," the story begins with the misplacement of demons, drawing inspiration from this idea; however, it is unclear whether Cai Jing was a Tien Gang or a Di Sha. Shenweng's words are found in "Qian's Private Records." (From "Travels and Tales," Volume 6) The creation of "Water Margin" followed the official history, but the events did not align. In "The Biography of Hou Meng," Song Jiang raided eastern Jing, and Hou Meng submitted a memorial stating that Song Jiang, with thirty-six men, roamed Qi and Wei, and the imperial army, numbering tens of thousands, dared not resist. His talent must be extraordinary. Now that bandits have risen in Qingxi, it would be better to pardon Jiang and let him fight Fang La to atone. In "The Biography of Zhang Shunye," Zhang Shunye served as the magistrate of Haizhou twice. Song Jiang rose in Hezhou, looted ten prefectures, and the imperial army dared not oppose him. He claimed to be coming. Zhang Shunye sent spies to observe his direction and found that the bandits headed straight for the coast, looting ten large ships. He recruited a thousand elite soldiers, set an ambush near the city, and sent light troops to lure them into battle. He hid strong soldiers by the sea and, when the armies met, set fire to the ships. The bandits lost their morale, and the ambush forces seized the deputy bandit leader, forcing Jiang to surrender. According to "The Biography of Hou Meng," there was a mention of sending Jiang to fight Fang La, but the event is unverified. Song Jiang surrendered in February, and Fang La was captured in April, possibly with his help. However, the person who captured Fang La was, according to "The Annals of Emperor Huizong," the Defense Commissioner of Zhongzhou, Xin Xingzong; according to "The Biography of Tong Guan," the Military Commissioner Tong Guan; and according to "The Biography of Han Shizhong," Han Shizhong pursued him as a subordinate general to Qingxi Grotto, asking an old woman for a secret path, crossing dangerous terrain, and raiding his lair. Xin Xingzong seized the captives as his own achievement, all unrelated to Song Jiang. Lu Ciyun's "Notes on Hubei" mentions that there used to be a statue of Lu Zhishen under the Liuhe Pagoda. He also said that people from Jianghuai dug up a stone tablet inscribed with "The Tomb of Wu Song." They may have used the area during the campaign against Qingxi, and folk tales are not entirely false. However, Wang Hanmen believed it was just a fabrication by Hangzhou people and likely unreliable. (From "Remains of Shanyang," Volume 4) During the Jiajing era, Wu Gongsheng Cheng'en, styled Ruyong and known as the Shaoyang Mountain Man, was a talented scholar from our Huai'an. He was intelligent, knowledgeable, and wrote many auspicious and congratulatory words, often commissioned by officials and scholars. However, he was unlucky and only became a county magistrate in Changxing through the imperial examination. Poor and childless, many of his manuscripts were lost. Qiu Zhenggang collected the incomplete works, adding transcripts from his friends Ma Qingxi and Ma Zhuanquan, and published them in four volumes titled "Shaoyang Collection" (with a "Continuation"). Chen Wencu, the Five Mountains Mountain Man, wrote the preface. It briefly describes how Chen, while governing Huai'an, met Xu with Ruyong in Changxing, who was good friends with him. They drank wine in the Han Hou Temple, discussing literature and poetry endlessly. Ruyong said that literature after the Six Classics was closest to ancient times in the Han and Wei periods, and poetry after the Three Hundred Poems was closest to ancient times in the Tang. Modern scholars, however, discard the beautiful and forget the vast knowledge, discard the old and forget the nourishing essence, making it difficult to compose literature and poetry. Xu and I deeply agreed with his words. Now, seeing Ruyong's works, they are expressive and elegant, vivid and clear, subtle yet profound, broad yet deep, collecting the gaps of the past and the echoes of the ages. His words are profound and his phrases are brilliant. After Zhang Wenqian, he is the only one like him. His praise is truly extreme. Reading his collected works, they are the crown of our prefecture in the Ming Dynasty. Unfortunately, the printed version is lost. I first obtained a manuscript, already worn and faded, and later collected four printed volumes and the continuation, including all his poems in "Shanyang Old Masters." I selected a few outstanding works of each style to express my gratitude for the fragrance. (From "Four Poems on the Moon and Autumn," No. 2): The four seasons are one breath, how bright is the autumn air? The sky is ten thousand miles of blue, aiding my leisurely mood. Water plants and incense smoke in the evening, the breeze gently brushing my clothes. Wandering through the valleys, trees and trees of pine compete in song. Picking the lute to the moonlight, trying to write the sound of pine wind. Another: The Xiang River rolls peach mats, and the Qi silk fans have ceased. Autumn has no form, but whispers to the leaves. The cricket replaces the cicada in song, its voice so tender. Thick frost forms dew like pearls, suddenly like the first snow. The six dragons drive the sun chariot, and Xihe leaves no trace. All life is like a dream, only you shock the heroes. Laughing to the blue sky, stopping the cup to ask the moon. (From "Song of Er Lang Searching for Mountains"): Li Zai was only known for painting landscapes, not for depicting spirits. His brushwork was astonishingly real, and his expressions were lifelike and strange. The young ones were all beautiful, commanding spirits with their presence. Stars and lightning, each fulfilling their mission, to clear the mountains. Eagles seized and dogs gnawed, great swords and long knives gleamed like frost. The old monkey could hardly hold on, and the fox lady shed tears of sorrow. The river churned and the sea stirred, the six Ding spirits vanished without a trace. A sharp blade cut the mad snake, and golden locks captured the venomous dragon. The divine army hunts demons like beasts, probing dens and destroying nests without escape. Where is their former arrogance? Even with claws and teeth, they dare not act rashly? I heard that ancient sages opened the primordial chaos, sealing the connection between earth and heaven. Xuanyuan cast mirrors, and Yu cast bronze drums, unifying the people and things of the four directions. Later, demons emerged from holes, fighting and roaring in the daytime. The scholar Zhong Kui of Zhongnan, empty-handed, showed waste in the palace. Disasters arose from the robes of the court, not as monkeys or cranes but as sandworms. Watching the Song dynasty use the Five Ghosts, he did not see the Yu court execute the Four Evils. An old man felt grateful, sighing in the wind. His heart wore a sword to cut demons, but he hated his powerlessness to rise. To save the sun, there were arrows, and to save the moon, there were bows. How can the world say there are no heroes? Who can bring me the phoenix, to enjoy eternal peace and harmony? (From "Autumn Evening"): The weaver bird sings at the golden well, the lotus closes in the stone room. Cold pines quietly produce sounds, and the immortal osmanthus smells wonderful. Boiling tea in the market by bamboo fire, boat songs carrying wine. How good is an autumn evening in the human world? It is Qiantang. (From "Saying Goodbye to a Friend at Dusk"): All creatures seek rest, but your journey is endless. Hoofbeats echo in frozen snow, and crows' bellies shoot the setting sun. Traveling boredom is dispelled by poetry, and solitude is guarded by a sword. A paper in the sleeve, to be presented to the bright light. (From "Painting Pines"): To paint you, one must not be an ordinary painter. There is nowhere in the painting for rouge. The wind and clouds are dim, hiding the spirit. Moon dew is solemn, with a strange posture. Monkeys below shake the shadows of the valleys, and cranes returning recognize the branches above the clouds. Born separate from prosperity, they do not wait for the snowflakes to fall. (From "Pinghe Bridge"): Tiredly mooring the small boat at the bridge, alone with the green flag, leaning on the arm to sleep. The sun sets, and the herdsman returns with a flute. The tide comes, and fish and rice gather in ships. Wild vegetables by the fence, seeds near the water. Smoke from the village across the river. I would like to seek two acres here, leaning on a walking stick to listen to the cicadas. (From "Yangliqing"): Village flags praise white lotus wine, river drums open sails, willows are green. In my prime, I was often a traveler on the road, looking back at my hometown from long pavilions. Spring deep, water rises, fish taste is delicious. Near the sea, the wind is strong, and the crane's wings are strong. Who plays the jade flute on the high tower, listening to the falling plum in drunken sorrow? (From "Autumn Meditations," No. 1): Dew on the paulownia, wind in the bamboo, a faint glow. In the pavilion, the heart cools, and the heat fades. The Milky Way and white mulberry are clear in autumn, and the rivers and lakes are dark birds flying late. Love letters are cut off in a foreign land, and sickly songs are forbidden. A coarse robe and a long sword are not bad, and the yellow cow near the south mountain should be fat. (From "Buying Cloudlin's Painted Bamboo, with Oil Stains, Poem to Wash It"): Who collected the playful ink of Cloudlin? Cold dumplings still smell of old oil. Rain and wind cannot erase it, damp clouds block the autumn of the Wei River. (From "On the Embankment"): The vast lake ripples with light, flowing into the stream bridge, spraying jade cool. A piece of cicada sound, ten thousand willows, reclining on a couch in the lotus fragrance. The old Tianqi Annals listed him as the foremost in the modern literary garden, saying he was quick-witted, knowledgeable, and wrote poetry and prose at the drop of a hat. He was also good at wit, and his various notes shook the times. I did not know what a note was until I read "The Catalogue of Huai'an Scholars," which listed "Journey to the West" as his work. Examining "Journey to the West," it was originally called a book to prove the Tao, aligning with the principles of gold and jade. Yuan Youguan wrote a preface, calling it the work of Qiu Changchun, a Taoist priest of the early Yuan dynasty. However, the prefectural annals said it was written by him. Tianqi was not far from him, so his words must have a basis. It is possible that Qiu Changchun first wrote this record, and later, he made it a popular narrative, like "The Romance of the Three Kingdoms," which was originally by Chen Shou but narrated by Luo Guanzhong. The book is full of local dialects from our Huai'an, so it must have been written by a Huai'an person. Some said there was a "Post-Journey to the West," written by the Shaoyang Mountain Man. (From "Notes from the Spring in the Hall," Volume 9) Dong Ruoyu spoke of "Notes from Donghua Rock," but there was only a manuscript. Shen Guchen, a junior scholar, showed it to me. The handwriting was rushed, likely written by a village schoolboy. It included Zhu Wen Gong's poem "Zhu Rong Peak": "I came a thousand miles riding the wind, in the deep gorges and layers of clouds, I swayed my chest. Three cups of muddled wine, my heroic spirit rose, and I sang flying down Zhu Rong Peak." A scholar commented, "Down should be above." I did not have Zhu Wen Gong's collection, so I did not know which was correct. However, in my opinion, writing "down" is better. Since riding the wind, one would rise like the updraft, with the sky behind, making Zhu Rong Peak seem below. Therefore, it is "flying down Zhu Rong Peak." If it were "above," it would be no different from climbing with straw sandals and walking sticks. A single word can separate the immortal from the mortal. I should discuss this with Guchen, but I do not know if he agrees. Another story in "Donghua Rock" is said to be from Ming people, but one story says: "In the second month of Gengshen, I saw the handwriting of Yangming on a boat in Zhugezi Creek. I remembered the praise of one 'ning' and the cool of 'Shanshan Hall,' both secrets of the literary garden. Old Wu Nanqian wrote it." So, even after becoming a monk, he was still around in the 19th year of Kangxi, not long after entering our dynasty. Gu Tinglin and Wang Shanshan, Ming, died in our dynasty, so they are figures of our dynasty. Dong Ruoyu could be an example. Examining Wang Xiecheng's "Nanshan Records," Dong Ruoyu died in the 25th year of Kangxi, Bingyin, at the age of 67. He was only 25 when the Ming dynasty fell, so he is definitely a figure of our dynasty. The "Nanshan Records" listed him as a Ming person, but it is not about his era. (From "Biographical Notes of Poets of Our Dynasty," Volume 14) Pu Songling, styled Liuxian, known as Liuquan, was from Zichuan, Shandong, a scholar, and had "The Collected Works of Liaozhai." (Also cited from "Poems of Shandong"): Liuquan failed the exams many times, so he devoted himself to classical literature, using his free time to search for the strange and wrote "Strange Stories" as a book. (Also cited from "Notes from the Pine Studio"): Among novels about ghosts and demons, "Liaozhai" is the best. Yuanyang wrote a quatrain after "Strange Stories of Liaozhai": "Speak freely and listen freely, under bean and gourd, rain like silk. You should be tired of human language, and love the singing of ghosts at night." (From "Miscellaneous Notes from the Cold Studio," Volume 6) Pu Songling's "Strange Stories of Liaozhai" spread across the land, almost every household having the book. It is said that Yuanyang Mountain Man admired this book and wanted to buy it for five hundred gold but could not. This story is not credible. Pu's book is elegant, but his depiction of ghosts and demons is mostly allegorical, fantastical and superficial, of no benefit to later scholars. Compared to Yuanyang's own books like "Notes of Xiangzu" and "Records of Easy Living," which support elegance and enrich knowledge, the style is completely different. To say that Yuanyang wanted to use it to spread is questionable? (From "Clear Talk by the," Volume 1) Among the novelists of our dynasty who write about ghosts and demons, Pu Liuxian (Songling) of Zichuan's "Strange Stories of Liaozhai" is the best. I heard that when the book was first completed, it was presented to Wang Yuanyang, who wanted to buy the manuscript for a thousand gold but Pu refused. He added comments and returned it, along with a quatrain: "Speak freely and listen freely, under bean and gourd, rain like silk. You should be tired of human language, and love the singing of ghosts at night." I think getting a fox as a wife and a ghost as a friend is also a poetic event. (From "Random Records of Insects," Volume 2) "Liaozhai" is the result of Pu Liuxian's painstaking effort, a book that must be passed down by the petty tales of our dynasty. There are many unexamined parts in it. The most ridiculous is the section "Jia Fengui": Jia had sat on the lotus cushion for over a hundred years, his wife still asleep. When he returned, it was already the era of Zeng Yuan, and he took the imperial examination and became an official. He went to the coastal area and saw a boat with music and singing, welcoming him. Jia recognized the young man as his son, which was reasonable. But how could the servant recognize him? The servant was used after Jia returned, so he did not know the young man. The servant was used before Jia met the immortal, so he had long been lost with his descendants. Scholars often make mistakes when showing off their talent, and this is an example. (From "Notes from the Spring in the Hall," Volume 6) Pu Liuxian's "Strange Stories of Liaozhai" has been popular for a long time. However, all the versions are sixteen volumes, including the Hu Lake senior's commented version. Now, I have seen a Qianlong era manuscript excerpted by Yu Liting and Wang Yuexuan, divided into eighteen volumes, categorized, with filial piety first, followed by brotherhood, and ending with immortals, ghosts, and demons, divided into twenty-six categories. There are slight differences in words and phrases, and there are a few entries not found in the current version. The preface to the volume has a Qianlong Dinghai horizontal mountain Wang Jinfan's preface, which briefly says: "Liuquan Pu, with a playful spirit, wrote awakening words. The book is vast, with many errors, and the order is confused. Also, since it was not published, the copies were passed down and distorted, losing its original form. In the spring of Jihe, Yu Liting, the same surname as Yuexuan, borrowed a manuscript from the family of Zeng, deleting the redundant and simplifying the categories. After several years of effort, the book was completed. This book is also an old version, and many of the differences are not as good as the current version. I do not know which is the true manuscript of Liuxian. As for the categories, there is no deep meaning, and it feels pointless. It also deletes the four characters "Yishi Shi said," and the comments are incomplete. Only the entries not found in the current version should be recorded and supplemented by those who love it.