Feng Zikai was a cartoonist deeply loved by the public and a distinguished disciple of the eminent modern monk Master Hongyi. He was a man of many talents—also an essayist, translator, and music educator—and was hailed as a master of the arts. Many of his paintings depicted children and the poor at the bottom of society. He never involved himself in politics throughout his life, yet politics involved him. During the Cultural Revolution, his home was ransacked, he was struggled against, sent to the countryside for labor, and tortured into illness. Before the Cultural Revolution even ended, he was tormented to death.

While Mao was alive, he never met Feng. Mao felt that Feng only painted children and was too far removed from the principle that literature and art should serve politics, so he was not worth meeting. More than forty years after Mao’s death, in reflection—even in hell he found some cartoons to read—he now found Feng’s paintings interesting. Reflecting on such a benevolent elder being persecuted to death during the Cultural Revolution, Mao could not help but feel a sense of apology. Curious about Feng’s cartoon creation, he applied to the Jade Emperor for permission to see him.

Mao asked with concern, “The Cultural Revolution made you suffer greatly, didn’t it?”

Feng replied, “Hardly anyone escaped the Cultural Revolution. I was no exception. The work team labeled me a ‘reactionary academic authority,’ a ‘counterrevolutionary black painter,’ an ‘old anti-Communist hand,’ a ‘rightist who slipped through the net,’ and one of the ‘Top Ten Targets for Struggle in Shanghai.’ My home was ransacked several times. My television, paintings, books, photo albums—several large boxes were taken away. My only savings of seven or eight thousand yuan were confiscated, and my salary was withheld.”

Mao asked, “How did they struggle against you?”

Feng said, “The rebels forced me to climb a ladder and post big-character posters denouncing myself. They pinned me to the ground, poured paste over me, and stuck posters all over my body. Whips fell on me. They forced me to cut off the beard I had worn for decades. In the middle of the night they broke into my home, took me away, and paraded me through the streets for public humiliation.”

Mao said, “Being paraded at midnight—more brutal than when I mobilized hooligans in Hunan to parade landlords.”

Feng continued, “In 1969 they drove me to the countryside for labor. I was already seventy-two years old. I slept on damp mud covered with straw, fully clothed. I caught a cold and developed a high fever that would not subside, and I was sent back to Shanghai. In 1972 I was fortunately ‘liberated’ and given a living allowance. But the good times did not last. In 1974, during the campaign to criticize Lin Biao and Confucius and to denounce ‘black paintings,’ I was accused of satirizing New China and subjected to another criticism meeting. In 1975, my lung cancer proved incurable, and I passed away.”

Mao said, “So they tormented you to death like that. The Cultural Revolution wasted all your time—you could not create, and you suffered struggle and devastation until the end. It is truly regrettable. At least I regret it on your behalf. If you see the Jade Emperor, tell him I feel sorrow and regret for your death.” Then Mao turned the topic to Feng Zikai’s cartoons. “You are the grand master of Chinese cartooning, the pioneer of its creation in China. How did you begin creating cartoons?”

Feng said, “It’s a long story. I was originally an art teacher in Shanghai. In 1921 I borrowed money for tuition and went to Japan to study painting, because my mentor, Master Hongyi, had also studied in Japan. I was deeply influenced by the Japanese cartoonist Takehisa Yumeji. After returning to China, I began drawing cartoons. Originally there was no term ‘manhua’ (cartoon) in China. In 1925, Zheng Zhenduo used the term in the Literary Weekly as a heading for my drawings, and from then on the term ‘manhua’ came into use. My cartoons combine the sparse, distant elegance of Chinese painting with the lively vigor of Western painting. When inspiration strikes, I paint freely and spontaneously.”

Mao said, “So you are the founding master of Chinese cartoons; they began with you. What subjects did your cartoons include?”

Feng replied, “Most of my cartoons reflect children’s lives and impressions of the lower strata of society. Some express the poetic mood of ancient verses and reflect human nature and human warmth. My drawings use simple brushwork and minimalist forms, plain yet full of childlike charm, accompanied by concise captions that provide the finishing touch and give the images poetic meaning.”

Mao said, “I emphasize Party spirit; you emphasize human nature. That is why we could not get along when I was alive.”

Feng said, “People seek ‘truth, goodness, and beauty.’ Truth is the pursuit of knowledge, goodness belongs to morality, and beauty relies on art and music. My painting, essay writing, and music teaching were all for goodness and beauty. I never studied the Party and did not concern myself with politics.”

Mao asked, “You did not concern yourself with politics, yet you wrote many essays and sketches, didn’t you?”

Feng replied, “Most of what I wrote drew on the bitterness of human life and spoke up for the laboring masses. With a gentle and compassionate heart, I viewed worldly affairs, advocating humanitarianism and hoping to awaken human conscience. This is different from what you call ‘proletarian consciousness.’”

Mao said, “It was not easy for you to maintain such views after the founding of the People’s Republic.”

Feng replied, “Life rarely goes as one wishes; most things are beyond one’s control. Under autocracy, there is nowhere to flee and nowhere to hide—better to find foolish joy. Without a pure land, cultivate inner peace. Befriend those who follow the Way; close your mouth to disputes. Do not let the heart be disturbed, nor be trapped by emotions. Contemplate quietly the principles of the world; steady the mind to respond to its changes.”

Mao said, “You affirm human nature. What are your views on how I governed when I was alive?”

Feng replied, “I spent my life mostly painting children. Among countless paintings, perhaps only one touched on politics. Its title was ‘Unifying Thought.’ You would surely have felt uncomfortable seeing it. I felt that if all thought were unified, there would be no art. So I drew people having their heads cut off.”

Mao laughed. “Unifying thought—cutting off everyone’s heads so only mine remains. Now I understand: diversity gives rise to art. When I was alive, everything had to be unified and monolithic. In the end, everything was wiped clean—even art disappeared.”

Feng said, “I also hope you will look at cartoons more. Increase a bit of childlike interest, relax your mood, compress the time you spend each day scheming about whom to target, and let everyone suffer less.”

Mao said, “I understand your meaning. After my death, I read some biographies of leaders and famous figures. I saw that U.S. President Reagan, who had been an actor, would, from his days as governor to president, spend twenty minutes each morning before work looking at cartoons from major newspapers. His staff collected them for him. It was his daily ‘overture,’ including cartoons satirizing himself.”

Feng smiled and said, “Looking at cartoons can make you smile knowingly, relax your tense nerves, help you handle state affairs more calmly, and reduce mistakes.”

Mao said, “You are right. If I had first looked at your cartoons, adding some childlike innocence and relaxation instead of constantly calculating whom to target, perhaps many disasters could have been avoided.”

Mao asked again, “You were rehabilitated, I presume? What about your aftermath?”

Feng replied, “I was rehabilitated in 1978. A Cartoon Gallery was established in my hometown, displaying not only my works but also those of other famous cartoonists. I am quite satisfied. The only thing I am not very satisfied with is that my former residence in Shanghai—its first floor was occupied by rebels. The second and third floors were once open to visitors, but a few years ago they were forced to close because the occupants downstairs complained that too many visitors disturbed them. I understand that preserving former residences of famous figures in China often leads to problems—it is not just my case. Of course, it cannot compare with your twenty palaces, which are carefully preserved.”

Mao said, “Building twenty palaces is one of the crimes for which the Jade Emperor will judge me. Former residences are not important. What is most important is that your works remain in the world and your spirit lives on, to be inherited and celebrated by the people. Seeing you today fulfills a wish I have held for decades. I especially offer you my apology and my thanks.”

Feng said, “My personal matters are small. What pains me is that in thirty years you persecuted and killed countless people, caused the starvation of tens of millions, and left innumerable wronged souls. To this day, your successors still cover up for you and forbid exposure or criticism. You must repent, reflect on your faults, and confess your guilt to the people.”

Mao said, “What you say is true. I am repenting and reflecting. Soon I will accept the judgment of the Jade Emperor. I hope you will say a few kind words for me before him.”

Feng replied, “That depends on whether the countless wronged souls agree.”

Having said this, he departed solemnly.

NEXT: 85. Hou Baolin (1917–1993)