主题：杰克伦敦的短文《黄祸》和小说《空前入侵》 -- CaoMeng

特别在日俄战争中。 看看杰克伦敦对在中国的中国人的描写吧：

Excerpt from "Yellow Peril":

I rode to the shore, into the village of Kuelian-Ching. There were

no lounging men smoking long pipes and chattering. The previous day

the Russians had been there, a bloody battle had been fought, and to-

day the Japanese were there--but what was that to talk about?

Everybody was busy. Men were offering eggs and chickens and fruit

for sale upon the street, and bread, as I live, bread in small round

loaves or buns. I rode on into the country. Everywhere a toiling

population was in evidence. The houses and walls were strong and

substantial. Stone and brick replaced the mud walls of the Korean

dwellings. Twilight fell and deepened, and still the ploughs went up

and down the fields, the sowers following after. Trains of

wheelbarrows, heavily loaded, squeaked by, and Pekin carts, drawn by

from four to six cows, horses, mules, ponies, or jackasses--cows even

with their newborn calves tottering along on puny legs outside the

traces. Everybody worked. Everything worked. I saw a man mending

the road. I was in China.

...

The Korean is the perfect type of inefficiency--of utter

worthlessness. The Chinese is the perfect type of industry. For

sheer work no worker in the world can compare with him. Work is the

breath of his nostrils. It is his solution of existence. It is to

him what wandering and fighting in far lands and spiritual adventure

have been to other peoples. Liberty to him epitomizes itself in

access to the means of toil. To till the soil and labour

interminably with rude implements and utensils is all he asks of life

and of the powers that be. Work is what he desires above all things,

and he will work at anything for anybody.

During the taking of the Taku forts he carried scaling ladders at the

heads of the storming columns and planted them against the walls. He

did this, not from a sense of patriotism, but for the invading

foreign devils because they paid him a daily wage of fifty cents. He

is not frightened by war. He accepts it as he does rain and

sunshine, the changing of the seasons, and other natural phenomena.

He prepares for it, endures it, and survives it, and when the tide of

battle sweeps by, the thunder of the guns still reverberating in the

distant canyons, he is seen calmly bending to his usual tasks. Nay,

war itself bears fruits whereof he may pick. Before the dead are

cold or the burial squads have arrived he is out on the field,

stripping the mangled bodies, collecting the shrapnel, and ferreting

in the shell holes for slivers and fragments of iron.

The Chinese is no coward. He does not carry away his doors amid

windows to the mountains, but remains to guard them when alien

soldiers occupy his town. He does not hide away his chickens and his

eggs, nor any other commodity he possesses. He proceeds at once to

offer them for sale. Nor is he to be bullied into lowering his

price. What if the purchaser be a soldier and an alien made cocky by

victory and confident by overwhelming force? He has two large pears

saved over from last year which he will sell for five sen, or for the

same price three small pears. What if one soldier persist in taking

away with him three large pears? What if there be twenty other

soldiers jostling about him? He turns over his sack of fruit to

another Chinese and races down the street after his pears and the

soldier responsible for their flight, and he does not return till he

has wrenched away one large pear from that soldier's grasp.