particularly welcomed by the Russian women comrades.” He had been “consulting” Li Dazhao on this and other matters, he added. The reasons for not going abroad, however, were also considerable. Since one could read translations so much faster than the foreign-language originals, one could learn more and faster in China. “Oriental civilization,” wrote Mao, “constitutes one half of world civilization. Furthermore, Eastern civilization can be said to be Chinese civilization.” So why go anywhere?
When Mao did leave Beijing at last, on April 11, it was for Shanghai. This time he took twenty-five days for the trip, stopping off on the way at the north China sacred mountain of Taishan and at Confucius’s hometown of Qufu. In Shanghai he stayed with three other activists from the movement to expel Governor Zhang from Hunan. In early June, Mao was considering learning Russian—all three of his housemates wanted to go to Russia—and trying, he told a friend, “to find a Russian with whom to study the Russian language,” but he had trouble finding one. Mao was also trying to learn English, “reading one short lesson from the simplest primer every day.” Self-study was going to be his rule from now on: “I have always had an intense hatred for school, so I have decided never to go to school again.” As to philosophy, he was concentrating on Bergson, Russell, and Dewey. Mao also found the time and opportunity to meet with Chen Duxiu, one of the key radical faculty leaders of the May Fourth Movement, and the sponsor of the full translation of the Communist Manifesto, which was just being completed.
Fate solved Mao’s indecisiveness with startling suddenness when a rival coalition of political and military leaders unexpectedly attacked Changsha and drove out the hated General Zhang. It turned out that Mao had hitched his wagon to the right star after all: one of his former teachers with the requisite political contacts was named director of the Changsha normal school, and used his new influence to appoint Mao director of the attached primary school. On July 7, 1920, Mao was back in Changsha with a respected career opened up in front of him, and he moved swiftly to assert his presence. In just over three weeks after his return, on July 31, 1920, Mao announced to the local newspapers the formation of yet another new venture, one that would draw together at least some of his dreams of the previous years. It was to be called the “Cultural Book Society.”
Mao’s announcement started banteringly: How would one expect to find “new culture” in Hunan? Few of the thirty million Hunanese had received any schooling. Of those who had, only a few were “functionally literate.” And of the literate, how many knew what the new culture was? New culture was not just a matter of “having read or heard a few new terms.” Indeed most of the world, not just Hunan, had no knowledge of new culture. At this point Mao boldly inserted a phrase that showed the definite orientation of his thought: “A tiny blossom of New Culture has appeared in Russia, on the shores of the Arctic Ocean.” The Cultural Book Society would try to ensure that this blossom would flower in Hunan. A bookstore would start the process, but a research wing, along with editorial and printing facilities, would soon be added. Through Chinese and foreign books, the new culture would reach across Hunan. The conclusion to the announcement had a special slant, emphasizing that this was no conventional capitalist enterprise. It had been founded “by a few of us who understand and trust each other completely.” None of the money that had been invested would be withdrawn by the investors. There would be no dividends. joint ownership would be perpetual. No one would take a penny of profit if it succeeded; “If it fails, and not a penny is left from the venture, we will not blame one another. We will be content to know that on this earth, in the city of Changsha,
When Mao did leave Beijing at last, on April 11, it was for Shanghai. This time he took twenty-five days for the trip, stopping off on the way at the north China sacred mountain of Taishan and at Confucius’s hometown of Qufu. In Shanghai he stayed with three other activists from the movement to expel Governor Zhang from Hunan. In early June, Mao was considering learning Russian—all three of his housemates wanted to go to Russia—and trying, he told a friend, “to find a Russian with whom to study the Russian language,” but he had trouble finding one. Mao was also trying to learn English, “reading one short lesson from the simplest primer every day.” Self-study was going to be his rule from now on: “I have always had an intense hatred for school, so I have decided never to go to school again.” As to philosophy, he was concentrating on Bergson, Russell, and Dewey. Mao also found the time and opportunity to meet with Chen Duxiu, one of the key radical faculty leaders of the May Fourth Movement, and the sponsor of the full translation of the Communist Manifesto, which was just being completed.
Fate solved Mao’s indecisiveness with startling suddenness when a rival coalition of political and military leaders unexpectedly attacked Changsha and drove out the hated General Zhang. It turned out that Mao had hitched his wagon to the right star after all: one of his former teachers with the requisite political contacts was named director of the Changsha normal school, and used his new influence to appoint Mao director of the attached primary school. On July 7, 1920, Mao was back in Changsha with a respected career opened up in front of him, and he moved swiftly to assert his presence. In just over three weeks after his return, on July 31, 1920, Mao announced to the local newspapers the formation of yet another new venture, one that would draw together at least some of his dreams of the previous years. It was to be called the “Cultural Book Society.”
Mao’s announcement started banteringly: How would one expect to find “new culture” in Hunan? Few of the thirty million Hunanese had received any schooling. Of those who had, only a few were “functionally literate.” And of the literate, how many knew what the new culture was? New culture was not just a matter of “having read or heard a few new terms.” Indeed most of the world, not just Hunan, had no knowledge of new culture. At this point Mao boldly inserted a phrase that showed the definite orientation of his thought: “A tiny blossom of New Culture has appeared in Russia, on the shores of the Arctic Ocean.” The Cultural Book Society would try to ensure that this blossom would flower in Hunan. A bookstore would start the process, but a research wing, along with editorial and printing facilities, would soon be added. Through Chinese and foreign books, the new culture would reach across Hunan. The conclusion to the announcement had a special slant, emphasizing that this was no conventional capitalist enterprise. It had been founded “by a few of us who understand and trust each other completely.” None of the money that had been invested would be withdrawn by the investors. There would be no dividends. joint ownership would be perpetual. No one would take a penny of profit if it succeeded; “If it fails, and not a penny is left from the venture, we will not blame one another. We will be content to know that on this earth, in the city of Changsha,
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