Sixyears have slipped by since I came from the country to the capital. During thattime the number of so-called affairs of state I have witnessed or heard aboutis far from small, but none of them made much impression. If asked to definetheir influence on me, I can only say they made my bad temper worse. Franklyspeaking, they taught me to take a poorer view of people every day.
One smallincident, however, which struck me as significant and jolted me out of myirritability, remains fixed even now in my memory.
It was thewinter of 1917, a strong north wind was blustering, but the exigencies ofearning my living forced me to be up and out early. I met scarcely a soul onthe road, but eventually managed to hire a rickshaw to take me to S—Gate.Presently the wind dropped a little, having blown away the drifts of dust onthe road to leave a clean broad highway, and the rickshaw man quickened hispace. We were just approaching S—Gate when we knocked into someone who slowlytoppled over.
It was agrey-haired woman in ragged clothes. She had stepped out abruptly from theroadside in front of us, and although the rickshaw man had swerved, hertattered padded waistcoat, unbuttoned and billowing in the wind, had caught onthe shaft. Luckily the rickshaw man had slowed down, otherwise she wouldcertainly have had a bad fall and it might have been a serious accident.
She huddledthere on the ground, and the rickshaw man stopped. As I did not believe the oldwoman was hurt and as no one else had seen us, I thought this halt of hisuncalled for, liable to land him trouble and hold me up.
“It’s allright,” I said. “Go on.”
He paid noattention — he may not have heard — but set down the shafts, took the oldwoman’s arm and gently helped her up.
“Are you allright?” he asked.
“I hurtmyself falling.”
I thought: Isaw how slowly you fell, how could you be hurt? Putting on an act like this is simplydisgusting. The rickshaw man asked for trouble, and now he’s got it. He’ll haveto find his own way out.
But therickshaw man did not hesitate for a minute after hearing the old woman’sanswer. Still holding her arm, he helped her slowly forward. Rather puzzled byhis I looked ahead and saw a police-station. Because of the high wind, therewas no one outside. It was there that the rickshaw man was taking the old woman.
Suddenly Ihad the strange sensation that his dusty retreating figure had in that instantgrown larger. Indeed, the further he walked the larger he loomed, until I hadto look up to him. At the same time he seemed gradually to be exerting apressure on me which threatened to overpower the small self hidden under myfur-lined gown.
Almostparalysed at that juncture I sat there motionless, my mind a blank, until apoliceman came out. Then I got down from the rickshaw.
Thepoliceman came up to me and said, “Get another rickshaw. He can’t take you anyfurther.”
On the spurof the moment I pulled a handful of coppers from my coat pocket and handed themto the policeman. “Please give him this,” I said.
The wind haddropped completely, but the road was still quiet. As I walked along thinking, Ihardly dared to think about myself. Quite apart from what had happened earlier,what had I meant by that handful of coppers? Was it a reward? Who was I tojudge the rickshaw man? I could give myself no answer.
Even now,this incident keeps coming back to me. It keeps distressing me and makes me tryto think about myself. The politics and the fighting of those years haveslipped my mind as completely as the classics I read as a child. Yet this smallincident keeps coming back to me, often more vivid than in actual life, teachingme shame, spurring me on to reform, and imbuing me with fresh courage and freshhope.
作品原文
魯迅 《一件小事》
我從鄉下跑到京城裡，一轉眼已經六年了。其間耳聞目睹的所謂國家大事，算起來也很不少；但在我心裡，都不留什麼痕跡，倘要我尋出這些事的影響來說，便只是增長了我的壞脾氣，——老實說，便是教我一天比一天的看不起人。
但有一件小事，卻於我有意義，將我從壞脾氣裡拖開，使我至今忘記不得。
這是民國六年的冬天，大北風颳得正猛，我因為生計關係，不得不一早在路上走。一路幾乎遇不見人，好容易才僱定了一輛人力車，教他拉到S門去。不一會，北風小了，路上浮塵早已刮淨，剩下一條潔白的大道來，車伕也跑得更快。剛近S門，忽而車把上帶著一個人，慢慢地倒了。
跌倒的是一個女人，花白頭髮，衣服都很破爛。伊從馬路上突然向車前橫截過來；車伕已經讓開道，但伊的破棉背心沒有上扣，微風吹著，向外展開，所以終於兜著車把。幸而車伕早有點停步，否則伊定要栽一個大斤斗，跌到頭破血出了。
伊伏在地上；車伕便也立住腳。我料定這老女人並沒有傷，又沒有別人看見，便很怪他多事，要自己惹出是非，也誤了我的路。
我便對他說，“沒有什麼的。走你的罷！”
車伕毫不理會，——或者並沒有聽到，——卻放下車子，扶那老女人慢慢起來，攙著臂膊立定，問伊說：
“你怎麼啦？”
“我摔壞了。”
我想，我眼見你慢慢倒地，怎麼會摔壞呢，裝腔作勢罷了，這真可憎惡。車伕多事，也正是自討苦吃，現在你自己想法去。
車伕聽了這老女人的話，卻毫不躊躇，仍然攙著伊的臂膊，便一步一步的向前走。我有些詫異，忙看前面，是一所巡警分駐所，大風之後，外面也不見人。這車伕扶著那老女人，便正是向那大門走去。
我這時突然感到一種異樣的感覺，覺得他滿身灰塵的後影，剎時高大了，而且愈走愈大，須仰視才見。而且他對於我，漸漸的又幾乎變成一種威壓，甚而至於要榨出皮袍下面藏著的“小”來。
我的活力這時大約有些凝滯了，坐著沒有動，也沒有想，直到看見分駐所裡走出一個巡警，才下了車。
巡警走近我說，“你自己僱車罷，他不能拉你了。”
我沒有思索的從外套袋裡抓出一大把銅元，交給巡警，說，“請你給他……”
風全住了，路上還很靜。我走著，一面想，幾乎怕敢想到自己。以前的事姑且擱起，這一大把銅元又是什麼意思？獎他麼？我還能裁判車伕麼？我不能回答自己。
這事到了現在，還是時時記起。我因此也時時煞了苦痛，努力的要想到我自己。幾年來的文治武力，在我早如幼小時候所讀過的“子曰詩云”一般，背不上半句了。獨有這一件小事，卻總是浮在我眼前，有時反更分明，教我慚愧，催我自新，並且增長我的勇氣和希望。
英文譯文
A Small Incident
Lu Xun
Sixyears have slipped by since I came from the country to the capital. During thattime the number of so-called affairs of state I have witnessed or heard aboutis far from small, but none of them made much impression. If asked to definetheir influence on me, I can only say they made my bad temper worse. Franklyspeaking, they taught me to take a poorer view of people every day.
One smallincident, however, which struck me as significant and jolted me out of myirritability, remains fixed even now in my memory.
It was thewinter of 1917, a strong north wind was blustering, but the exigencies ofearning my living forced me to be up and out early. I met scarcely a soul onthe road, but eventually managed to hire a rickshaw to take me to S—Gate.Presently the wind dropped a little, having blown away the drifts of dust onthe road to leave a clean broad highway, and the rickshaw man quickened hispace. We were just approaching S—Gate when we knocked into someone who slowlytoppled over.
It was agrey-haired woman in ragged clothes. She had stepped out abruptly from theroadside in front of us, and although the rickshaw man had swerved, hertattered padded waistcoat, unbuttoned and billowing in the wind, had caught onthe shaft. Luckily the rickshaw man had slowed down, otherwise she wouldcertainly have had a bad fall and it might have been a serious accident.
She huddledthere on the ground, and the rickshaw man stopped. As I did not believe the oldwoman was hurt and as no one else had seen us, I thought this halt of hisuncalled for, liable to land him trouble and hold me up.
“It’s allright,” I said. “Go on.”
He paid noattention — he may not have heard — but set down the shafts, took the oldwoman’s arm and gently helped her up.
“Are you allright?” he asked.
“I hurtmyself falling.”
I thought: Isaw how slowly you fell, how could you be hurt? Putting on an act like this is simplydisgusting. The rickshaw man asked for trouble, and now he’s got it. He’ll haveto find his own way out.
But therickshaw man did not hesitate for a minute after hearing the old woman’sanswer. Still holding her arm, he helped her slowly forward. Rather puzzled byhis I looked ahead and saw a police-station. Because of the high wind, therewas no one outside. It was there that the rickshaw man was taking the old woman.
Suddenly Ihad the strange sensation that his dusty retreating figure had in that instantgrown larger. Indeed, the further he walked the larger he loomed, until I hadto look up to him. At the same time he seemed gradually to be exerting apressure on me which threatened to overpower the small self hidden under myfur-lined gown.
Almostparalysed at that juncture I sat there motionless, my mind a blank, until apoliceman came out. Then I got down from the rickshaw.
Thepoliceman came up to me and said, “Get another rickshaw. He can’t take you anyfurther.”
On the spurof the moment I pulled a handful of coppers from my coat pocket and handed themto the policeman. “Please give him this,” I said.
The wind haddropped completely, but the road was still quiet. As I walked along thinking, Ihardly dared to think about myself. Quite apart from what had happened earlier,what had I meant by that handful of coppers? Was it a reward? Who was I tojudge the rickshaw man? I could give myself no answer.
Even now,this incident keeps coming back to me. It keeps distressing me and makes me tryto think about myself. The politics and the fighting of those years haveslipped my mind as completely as the classics I read as a child. Yet this smallincident keeps coming back to me, often more vivid than in actual life, teachingme shame, spurring me on to reform, and imbuing me with fresh courage and freshhope.