The Complete Works of Xu Zhimo's Classical Prose

Chapter 27
Originally published in May 1929, "New Moon", Volume 3, Issue 2

a begging poet
1. Collected Poems of William H. Davies
2. The Autobiography of a Super Tramp
3. Later Days.
4. A Poet's Pilgrimage [-]
Mr. Bernard Shaw received a collection of poems from the post office in [-]. The author's name, his address, and the price of two shillings and six were printed on the cover.Enclosed is a short note from the author, saying that if he wishes to keep the book, please send him two shillings six, or else he will return the original copy.In those days Mr. Xiao often had bookstores and unknown authors send him books asking for criticism, so it was not surprising for him to receive such things.

This time he discovered something new. First, the book was clearly printed by the author himself. Second, his address was the last remaining "tenant house" in the southwest corner of London. Unusual elegance and his method is also unique.But what makes Mr. Xiao even more strange is that he found a pure and pure poet in this collection of short poems at a glance. His thoughts are as fresh as his tone is light.Mr. Xiao is determined to help this unsung hero.The first good thing he did was to buy eight more books from him, which immediately made the poet feel a rare comfort financially, and the second was that he introduced him to several critics at the time.Sure enough, in a short period of time, various daily newspapers and periodicals noticed this wandering poet, his life was also revealed, and his portrait was also published. His position was immediately transferred from the dilapidated tenant house to the British literary world. center of!His name was Will Davies, and his companions called him Will Davies.

two

The book of poems that Tevez sold along Mentor was indeed printed at his own expense.His money didn't come easily either.Nineteen pounds printed 250 volumes.The printing fee was borrowed as a mortgage.Mr. Tevez was not barren, but his income was ten shillings (five dollars in silver) a week, on which he had lived since he was crippled.

His plan was to provide six shillings for living expenses out of the ten shillings income, to reserve two shillings for printing, and the remaining two shillings for his poor friends.

His lodging was three shillings and six a week (two shillings and four in more frugal times, and not a cent in the worst of times), for he honestly borrowed God's ground when the summer was warm, in the cool woods or under the wide roofs of his poetry!), but of course it is not easy to accumulate a huge sum of twenty or thirty pounds from two shillings a week, so Mr. Tewes in the last Faruo decided to sacrifice half a year's income to accumulate a whole number. He crossed a wooden leg and bagged a letter of appointment. He was not very optimistic but not desperate to invest in the swaying "Wang Dao".This was the last and hardest wandering in his life. He himself said:

Going on is a strange experience, an experience that has no name, because I can still live, although I have neither the courage to beg nor the willingness to be a peddler.Sometimes I was so anxious that I really wanted to be a thief; but I didn't get a chance to steal, and I still walked my way safely.When I am most tired and hungry, my real situation becomes darker, and my hope for the future shines brighter, just as the light of the stars sets off the dark shadows of the night.

I am traveling alone, although other hooligans kindly ask me to be their traveling companion, I am willing to be alone because I do not allow the voice of strangers to disturb my clear dreams.Many people thought me crazy, because I couldn't answer when they asked me about the towns and villages I passed that day.They asked me what it was like in the "poor house" in the village, but I didn't know anything about it, because I had never been in it.They want to know the best place to live, which I am at a loss because I live in the open air.They asked me which side I came from that day, which I couldn't answer for a while; they asked me where I went, which I didn't know.The strangest thing about this experience is that although I never looked at people or asked them to beg, I was still helped by them.Every time I asked for a sip of cold water, what was given to me was either tea or milk, and food was always available.I can't help but regard this part of life as a short-term sacrifice, killing some worthless time in exchange for a more comfortable one in the future; I wish every Qing Dynasty, it starts a new day, and I also worship Pray every Shabbat night as it wraps up another week.

Doesn't this remind us of the monks who went to the mountains in the old days, their devotion made them completely forget the comfort of their bodies?Mr. Tevez found that the most embarrassing time of the vagabond life was in the rain in the open wilderness. God bless them, because there is no replacement for the vagabond's luggage.One day he picked up some wheat firewood in the typhoon countryside, and built an exquisite temporary mansion, where the wind could not enter and the sun could not be exposed. Fortunately, he could spend the night warmly, but unexpectedly

It's raining.Within half an hour chunks of rain had leaked through the roof, and within an hour those raindrops had turned into a torrent.And I can only wait patiently, how can I find a safer shelter in this dark night.It rained for ten hours.I'm literally soaked to the skin, not much better than being in the water without being "soaked in the skin" as we usually say when we call a few torrential rains to zero (drench) the tide.I was not at all despondent, and saw the incident as just one of my fair share of suffering.In the morning of the next day, I chose a spot out of the way of pedestrians, lay down, and let the hot and strong sunlight dry my dampness while resting.Two or three times I have suffered like this, but afterward I feel nothing at all.

I spent the first three months in this way, running on the road during the day and boarding in the open air at night. Unfortunately, the warm summer has its end, and the three months from October to the end of the year cannot be without shade.A seat requires money, even a few coppers, and Mr. Tevez can no longer spend his days in such a noble way.But he is still proud. A disabled person does not need to ask for help. He just needs to sit on the thoroughfare and hold out a hand, and the money will come.Otherwise, if you stand on a street where Mr. Patrolman doesn't come often and sing a few hymns, round copper coins will flutter towards you from the window of your house like a butterfly.But our poet cannot humiliate his status in this way. He would rather endure the cold and starve than lose face and become a professional beggar.Although in his most embarrassing days, he could only take a few pairs of shoelaces in his hand to meet his chances in the street, but he never allowed himself to use the shameless habits of beggars.

He lived through such a life for two months, mostly in the suburbs of London, and finally returned to his former residence in order to sort out his poems. Thanks to a poor fellow from the old days who lent him a pound, at least the cost of boarding settled.His collection of poems was printed in early March, but the first batch of [-] copies requested introduction only brought back lukewarm reports from two tabloids.The days passed quickly, and at the same time, the little money he borrowed was almost gone. This disappointment almost destroyed all the books he had worked so hard to print!In the end, he invented the method of sending books for sale, selling one or two out of ten copies would save him from starvation for several days. Only then did he win the sympathy of Mr. Xiao, and ended his wanderings in a short period of time. career.

three

But this is only the last setback in the tortuous life history of Mr. Tevez, the circle closest to ascension.When he first came to London from his hometown, although he was physically disabled, he was not without hope for his literary future.It was the first time he sent a manuscript to a bookstore, and he thought Mr. Zhang Zhang accidentally discovered a genius. He might come to see him the next morning, or at least accept his manuscript readily, and write back to ask him how much he would like to pay in advance. royalties.His first work was a poetic play entitled "The Robber".What the postman brought back was still his original manuscript, except for the title, perhaps not a single line was invited to read!He tried and tried, and the result was the same, except that the postage was wasted and the manuscript was marred.He soon discovered why.His residence is a disguised form of a beggar's shelter, and his title is unfortunately "The Bandit". No wonder the owner of the bookstore who is more sophisticated than the world dares to make him a friend!But he tried anyway.He also wrote a long poem, in which he gathered beasts from the mountains, birds from the sky, and even fish and shrimp from the bottom of the sea. Murder the sleeping inhabitants of a neighboring village!This time he was wise enough to change to a discreet address, and sent two copies at the same time, thinking that there would always be hope for at least one.A week passed and there was no news, our author was in a hurry, for no other reason, he was afraid that two places would order his extraordinary work at the same time.After waiting for a few more days, one manuscript came back, no need, the other one came back afterward, the same no need.Mr. Tevez thought that it must be that long poems are not easy to sell, but short poems must have hope. Once he sat down, he produced hundreds of short poems, but the result was still the same embarrassment. The author does so himself.How can a person who lives on copper get dozens of gold pounds?But why not try a well-known philanthropist?He tried.Of course it was fruitless.He had an idea again, why not print two thousand copies of one or two pages of "sample poems" and sell them for three pennies each, and sell them on the street by himself. A shilling, exactly twenty-five gold pounds, which happened to cost the printing of the book!But it also required printing fees, which cost 25 shillings. He had some savings, and after a few weeks of starvation, this sum of money was finally made up.Two thousand copies of the sample poems have been printed, and Mr. Tevez, full of joy and hope, took a large roll and went to the street to retail early in the morning.He solicited business when he saw people, repeatedly explained his difficulties in wanting to print books, and asked Sanpaese for help.He went to thirty houses and said nothing. No one understood what he meant, and no one paid attention to him. He couldn't sell any of them!It is rare that half of the people want to do good deeds, but it seems too unworthy to exchange three pennies for a piece of paper.Poetry, what is poetry?What is poetry for?If you talk again, they still don't understand.At last he asked about a larger house, and a maid came out to answer the door.He explained his purpose as usual, and the girl stared at him wide-eyed. "Mary, who's there?" asked the hostess from above the stairs.She replied that someone came to sell writing paper. "Give him this copper and tell him to go," said a copper rolling down the stairs.Mr. Tevez got a coin, but he begged Mary to show the paper to her master.Maybe she has vision, maybe she appreciates me, maybe she is willing to pay for printing books for me, who knows!But the voice on the stairs was louder and fiercer: "Mary, don't take anything from him, don't you hear?"

In a few seconds, Tevez was standing outside the closed door, holding a lonely penny in his palm!Well, I was hungry, ran sore my legs and talked dry before I got a copper coin. It took decades to raise 25 gold pounds?What's more, when I went back, I couldn't run anymore and had to take the tram for three minutes!Mr. Tevez destroyed [-] copies of the sample poems in one go, and none of the pages survived.

four

For the loss of this experiment, Mr. Tevez moved to a Salvation Army asylum for extra savings.He still did not give up, and still wanted to print his collection of poems.The inspiration this time was to get a hawker's license and go to the countryside to do business.

In this way, the life has been settled, so the weekly income can be accumulated calmly, isn't it?Moreover, it is hard to say that there is a considerable profit from the sale of shoelaces, pin hairpins, and buttons.In this way, it will take less than half a year to find a solution.Mr. Tevez's eyes really shone with some light.But the implementation of this plan was not without prior difficulties.First, the prosthetic leg on his body cost him more than a dozen pounds to install. After two or three years of service, it was already about to crack. How could he have the money to buy another leg?With great difficulty, he found a public institution, and he could ask for a "cone foot" for nothing.But there are also procedures.You have to have fifteen references from members.Mr. Tevez was busy buying stamps and sending letters again this time.In six weeks, he sent more than 100 letters (that is to say, it cost him more than 100 cents of postage plus letter paper fees), but half of them were not enough replies because there were many people going out in the summer.At this time, a charity organization suddenly sent someone to inform him that someone was willing to help him. Of course, he rushed there as if he had received an imperial order, but in the end, he went through countless procedures, countless nonsense, and suffered countless sulks. , Mr. Timbers is still Mr. Timbers!Needless to say, the noble deacons of the charitable organization reported to the benefactor who wanted to do good deeds that he was a scoundrel who did not deserve help!It took quite a while to collect the necessary letters of recommendation, and I got it, but the troubles were still not over.

Because there were not enough letters of recommendation before, but now there are too many letters of recommendation. Everyone who left the house got a reply when they returned home. Mr. Tai Weishi was busy withdrawing letters to thank him, and he wasted a lot of postage stamps!

With the feet on the top of the body, the goods were brought in again, needles, bone hairpins, shoelaces, buttons, and our poet started a new life.But when he first went to the countryside, because he had a few shillings left in his pocket, he was not in a hurry to do business, but calmly enjoyed the scenery of early summer:

First night in St Almins.I walked around the town and then lay down on my back in the field with my bag as a pillow.There seemed to be many more stars in the sky that night, supporting and celebrating the coming of age of a beautiful bright moon.Although the limbs were tired, it took another three or two hours to fall asleep because of the night scene.I suppose it's an honorable life to have enough money to buy and eat in the passing country this summer?For three or four days like this I walked lazily, standing on the top of the ditch to watch the water rush from darkness to light; listening to the singing of wild horses; Hidden in a secluded countryside.

But when he finished spending the money he was carrying, and opened the package, he was thinking of doing business. Mr. Tevez found the package, because it was used as a pillow every night, not only was it full of moisture, but also the needles were pierced. The coating is rusty, the shoelaces are wrinkled and tired, and they are all out of shape. They are all unsalable!He can only resign himself to fate.When he was about to starve, he met a poor comrade on the side of the road. He, a healthy man of height and blood, asked him about his predicament, and comforted him by saying that as long as he walked with him, he would not have to worry about food.This gentleman is capable.After drinking beer and eating bread, he first arrived at the end of a long street. He stopped and said to Mr. Tevez, "Look, I'm working here. You just have to follow me The money on the ground, the money will come." "Just check the copper, just be careful not to let the copper be checked!" He meant to be careful of the patrol.This is his spell: hunchback, swinging legs, hoarse voice, open mouth to sing.After singing, everyone on both sides of the street threw coppers at them, but the gentleman straightened up and ran back as soon as he stopped talking, and the poet had to follow. Sure enough, a tall "copper" came by at the corner. !

Mr. Tevez learned a lot of professional secrets along the way, but when he returned to London at the end of his wanderings, his plan at the time of departure was still unfulfilled, and the savings of three months of interest were only enough for him for a short period of time. In the rest of the times, the dream of publishing a book is still in vain.The black shadow of poverty still covers him tightly. No matter which direction he tries, there is no way for him to pass through.But on this poor road, although he can't find gold, he has discovered a lot of human wisdom, which cannot be bought by gold, nor can people who only have gold hope for it.Here are his observations:

(End of this chapter)