I've long wanted to write some words in memory of several young writers in order to remember them. This is not for anything else, just because in the past two years, grief and indignation have always attacked my heart and have not stopped. I really want to take this as a shake to get rid of my sorrow and relax myself. Frankly speaking, I want to forget them.
two years ago at this time, that is, on the night of February 7 or the morning of February 8, 1931, five of our young writers were killed at the same time. At that time, the newspapers in Shanghai did not dare to carry this story, or perhaps they were unwilling or disdainful to carry it, except for a vague article in Literary News. In the eleventh issue (May 25th), there was an article "Impression of Bai Mang" written by Mr. Lin Mang, which said:
"He wrote many poems and translated several poems by the Hungarian poet Peter Fei. At that time, Lu Xun, the editor of Running at that time, received his contribution and wrote to meet him, but he was a person who didn't want to meet celebrities. As a result, Lu Xun came to see him himself. Soon, he was arrested again. "
What we said here is actually not true. Bai Mang is not so tall and slow. He once came to my apartment, but it was not because I asked to meet him. I'm not so slow. For a complete contributor, I will write to him rashly. The reason why we met was very common. At that time, what he voted for was the biography of Peter Fei translated from German, so I sent a letter to ask for the original text, which was contained in front of a collection of poems. It was inconvenient to mail it, so he personally delivered it. It looks like a young man in his twenties, with a straight face and dark color. I have forgotten the conversation at that time, except that he said his surname was Xu and he was from Xiangshan. I asked him why the lady who received the mail for you had such a strange name (how strange it was, I have forgotten it now), and he said that she liked to get up so strangely, Romantico, and she was a little off her own. That's all that's left
at night, I roughly checked the translation with the original, and I knew that there was a deliberate song translation besides several mistranslations. It seems that he doesn't like the word "national poet" and has changed it to "people poet". The next day, I received another letter from him, saying that he regretted meeting me. He talked a lot, but I talked a little, and it was cold, as if he had been intimidated. I wrote a letter to explain that it is human nature to meet for the first time and not talk much, and told him that he should not change the original text by his own likes and dislikes. Because his original book was left with me, I gave him two collections I had hidden and asked him if he might translate some more poems for readers' reference. Sure enough, he translated a few songs and brought them himself, so we talked more than the first time. This biography and poem were later published in the fifth book, the last book, of the second volume of Running.
the third time we met, I remember it was on a hot day. Someone knocked at the door. When I answered the door, it was Bai Mang who came, but he was wearing a thick cotton robe and sweating. Both of us couldn't help laughing. Only then did he tell me that he was a revolutionary, just released from arrest, and all his clothes and books were confiscated, even the two I gave him; I borrowed my robe from a friend, so I had to wear a long dress instead of a blouse, so I had to sweat like this. I think this is about the time when Mr. Lin Mang said he was "caught again".
I was very glad that he was released, so I quickly paid the manuscript fee so that he could buy a blouse, but at the same time I regretted my two books: I fell into the hands of the arrest house, which really cast a dark shadow on the pearl. The two books, which were originally very common, were a prose and a collection of poems. According to the German translator, they were collected by him. Although there were no such complete books in Hungary, they were printed in Reclams Universal-Bibliothek. If they were in Germany, they would be available everywhere, and they would be worth less than one yuan. But now I am a kind of treasure, because it was bought from Germany by Maruyama Bookstore 3 years ago when I loved Peter Fei. At that time, I was afraid that because the book was extremely cheap, the clerk refused to handle it and was very nervous when he opened his mouth. Later, I probably took it with me, but it just changed with the times, and there was no meaning of translation. This time, I decided to give it to this young man who loved Peter Fei's poems as much as I did at that time, which was a good landing for it. So also seriously, Rou Shi personally sent it. Who would have thought that it would fall into the hands of "three heads" and the like? Isn't this wrong!
second
I never invite contributors to meet, but it's not entirely out of modesty, and there are many elements that save trouble. As a result of historical experience, I know that nine out of ten young people, especially literary young people, feel very sensitive and have strong self-esteem. If they are not careful, they are easily misunderstood, so they often deliberately avoid it. I am still afraid to meet, let alone dare to entrust. But when I was in Shanghai, there was also the only person who not only dared to talk and laugh casually, but also dared to ask him to do something private. That was Rou Shi who sent books to Bai Mang.
I first met Rou Shi. I don't know when and where. He seems to have said that he had listened to my lectures in Beijing, so it was before 1989. I also forgot how to get along in Shanghai. In short, he lived in Jing Yun at that time, only four or five facades away from my apartment. Somehow, he got along. About the first time, he told me that his surname was Zhao and his first name was Pingping. But he once talked about the arrogance of the gentry in his hometown, saying that there was a gentleman who thought his name was good and wanted to give it to his son and told him not to use it. Therefore, I suspect that his original name is "Pingfu", which is smooth and blessed, and is just what the squire wants, but he may not be so enthusiastic about the word "Fu". His hometown, Ninghai, Taizhou, is just a look at his Taizhou-style car-scrapping, and it's quite pedantic, which sometimes reminds me of Fang Xiaoru and makes me feel like this.
He hid in the apartment to make literature, and he also wrote and translated. After many days of exchanges, we hit it off, so we agreed with several other young people to set up the Chaohua Society. The purpose is to introduce the literature of eastern Europe and northern Europe and import foreign prints, because we all think that we should foster a little vigorous and simple literature and art. Then, Chao Hua Xun Magazine, Collection of Short Stories of Modern World and Yi Yuan Chao Hua were printed, all of which followed this line. Only one of them, Selected Paintings of Hong Er in Migu Valley, was printed to sweep the "artists" on the beach, that is, to expose Ye Lingfeng as a paper tiger.
However, Rou Shi didn't have any money himself. He borrowed more than 2 yuan to make a copy. Except for buying paper, most of the manuscripts and chores are done by him, such as running the printing bureau, drawing and proofreading. But it is often unsatisfactory, and it is frowning. Looking at his old works, they are full of pessimism, but in fact they are not. He believes that people are good. I sometimes talk about how people cheat, how to sell friends, and how to suck blood. His forehead glistened, and he opened his nearsighted eyes in disbelief and protested, "Will this happen?" -not this? ...... "
However, Chaohua Club closed down soon, and I don't want to explain the reason. In short, it was Rou Shi's ideal head. After hitting a big nail, his strength was naturally albino, and he had to borrow 1 yuan to pay the paper bill. Later, his doubts about my saying that "people are afraid of danger" decreased, and sometimes he sighed: "Is this really the case? ..... "However, he still believes that people are good.
So he sent the leftover books of Chaohua Society he deserved to Tomorrow Bookstore and Guanghua Bookstore, hoping to get back a few pennies, and at the same time he tried his best to translate the books and prepare to repay the loan. This is the collection of Danish short stories sold to the Commercial Press and the novel The Cause of Altaymonov written by Gorky. But I think these translations may have been burned by soldiers last year.
His pedantry gradually changed, and he finally dared to walk with his female fellow villagers or friends, but the distance was always at least three or four feet. This method is very bad. Sometimes when I meet him on the road, as long as there is a beautiful young woman around three or four feet apart, I will suspect that it is his friend. But when he walked with me, he came close, simply holding me, for fear that I would be killed by a car or tram; On my side, I'm also worried about his myopia and taking care of others. Everyone is in a panic, so I wouldn't go out with him unless I had to. I really see him struggling, so I'm struggling myself.
no matter from the old morality or the new morality, as long as it is harmful to others, he will choose it and recite it himself.
He finally decided to change. Once, he told me clearly that the content and form of the work should be changed from now on. I said, I'm afraid it's difficult. For example, if someone is used to knives, how can he play with a stick this time? He simply replied: just learn!
What he said is not empty talk. He is really learning again. At that time, he once brought a friend to visit me, that is, Ms. Feng Keng. After talking for a few days, I was finally very estranged from her. I suspected that she was a little romantic and eager for work. I also suspect that Rou Shi's recent novels, most of which are about to be written, originated from her ideas. But I suspect myself, perhaps Rou Shi's previous categorical answer hit the scar of my lazy idea, so I took it out on her unconsciously. -I'm actually no better than the neurotic and self-respecting literary youth I'm afraid of.
her constitution is weak and not beautiful.
3
It was not until the Left-wing Writers' Union was established that I realized that the Bai Mang I knew was Yin Fu who wrote poems in The Pioneers. At a conference, I brought a German translation of China's travel notes made by an American journalist to send him, just thinking that he could practice German from it, and it was meaningless. However, he didn't come. I had to entrust Rou Shi again.
but not long after, they were arrested together, and my book was confiscated again and fell into the hands of "three heads" and the like.
Fourth
Tomorrow, the bookstore will publish a periodical and ask Rou Shi to be an editor. He agreed. The bookstore also wanted to print my translation and asked him to ask about the royalty, so I gave him a copy of the contract I made with Beixin Bookstore, and he stuffed it into his pocket and left in a hurry. It was the night of January 16, 1931, and unexpectedly, this trip was the last time I met him, which was our eternal secret.
The next day, he was arrested at a meeting place with my book printing contract hidden in his pocket. I heard that the official hall was looking for me. The contract for printing books is clear, but I don't want to go to those shady places to defend it. I remember that there was a monk in "The Complete Story of Yue", who was "seated" just before the pursued officers arrived at the temple gate, leaving behind what "He Li came from the east and I went west". This is the only good way for slaves to get out of their misery, which "Swordsman" can't hope for, and that's the most comfortable way. I am not a monk, I have no freedom of nirvana, but I still have nostalgia for life, so I ran away.
that night, I burned my friends' old letters and walked in an inn with a woman holding her child. A few days later, I heard that I was arrested or killed, but there was little news from Rou Shi. Some said that he was once taken to tomorrow's bookstore by a policeman and asked if he was an editor; Some said that he was once taken to Beixin Bookstore by a policeman and asked if it was Rou Shi, and his hands were handcuffed, which showed that the case was serious. But what kind of case, but no one understands.
In his prison system, I have seen his letters to fellow villagers twice. The first time was like this:
"I arrived in Longhua with thirty-five accomplices (seven women) yesterday. He was shackled last night, setting a record that political prisoners have never been shackled. This case involves too much, and I'm afraid I won't get out of prison for a while. The bookstore expects my brother to do it for me. Now it's good, and I'm learning German from Brother Yin. This matter can be reported to Mr. Zhou. Don't worry about Mr. Zhou, I haven't been punished. The arrest house and the public security bureau asked Mr. Zhou's address several times, but I didn't know. Don't think about it. Good wishes!
Zhao Shaoxiong January 24th. "
above the front.
You need two or three foreign iron rice bowls
If you can't meet, you can give them to Zhao Shaoxiong
.
His mood has not changed. He wants to learn German and work harder. Still remember me, just like walking on the road. However, some words in his letter are wrong. Political prisoners were shackled, not from them, but he has always regarded officialdom too high, thinking that civilization has been so far, and it was not until they began to be harsh. Actually, it is not. Sure enough, the second letter was very different. The wording was very miserable, and Ms. Feng's face was swollen. Unfortunately, I didn't copy this letter. At that time, the legends were more complicated, saying that he could be redeemed, and that he had been sent to Nanjing, and there was no doubt; And more and more people used letters and telegrams to inquire about my news. Even my mother was anxious to get sick in Beijing, so I had to send letters to correct them one by one. This lasted for about twenty days.
The colder it gets, I wonder if Rou Shi has any bedding there. We do. Have you ever received the tin bowl? ..... But suddenly I got a reliable message that Rou Shi and twenty-three other people had been shot in Longhua garrison headquarters on the night of February 7 or the morning of February 8, and he was shot ten times.
I see! ......
In the middle of the night, I stood in the courtyard of the inn, surrounded by piles of junk; People are sleeping, even my wife and children. I feel with a heavy heart that I have lost a good friend and a good youth in China, and I have calmed down in grief and indignation. However, I have raised my head from the silence and made up the following words:
When I am used to spending the spring in the long night, my wife will have silk on her young temples.
In my dream, I vaguely shed tears for my mother, and the flag of the King changed at the head of the city.
I can't bear to watch my peers become new ghosts, but I look for a poem from the knife.
When you say "Let your eyebrows droop", there is no place to write, and the moonlight shines like water on your clothes.
But the last two sentences were later inaccurate. I finally wrote this to a Japanese singer.
But in China, there was no place to write at that time, and it was imprisoned more tightly than canned food. I remember that Rou Shi went back to his hometown at the end of the year and lived there for a long time. When he arrived in Shanghai, he was scolded by his friends. He told me bitterly that his mother was blind and asked him to stay for a few more days. How could he leave when he could? I know the blind mother's heart as soon as possible, Rou Shi's heart. When Beidou was first published, I wanted to write something about Rou Shi, but I couldn't, so I chose a picture of kollwitz (K? Mrs. the Kollwitz's woodcut, called "Sacrifice", was sadly given by a mother to her son, which is a memory of Rou Shi that only I know in my heart.
Of the four young writers who were stumped at the same time, I have never met Li Weisen, and Hu Yepin only met once in Shanghai and talked for a few days. The more familiar one is Bai Mang, that is, Yin Fu. He once wrote to me by letter, but now he has found nothing. It must have been burned down on the night of the 17th. At that time, I didn't know that Bai Mang was also arrested. However, the "Poems of Peter Fei" is there, and it is nothing, only next to a "Wahlspruch" (motto), there are