2017年10月25日 星期三

New York in the 1940's and 50's, A city seen: Todd Webb’s

Take a look at some of Todd Webb's wonderful post-war photographs of New York in the 1940's and 50's, now featured in a new book.
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2017年10月24日 星期二

胡適留學日記手稿本上海發行 ;夢見胡適 (胡適粉絲團)


《胡適留學日記手稿本》序,修正版見 陳子善《從魯迅到張愛玲——文學史內外》北京大學出版社,2017



昨天晚上夢見了胡適先生,他要我別放棄,小本的「論胡適」就能看,要我買來看.
日有所思,夜有所夢,我已立定今生不做胡適研究,但始終難放下胡適先生,就夢見他了.
人生難解的是情與份。






Hanching Chung 長相?聲音等還記得?請代我向他抱怨:你的海外日記中,無法了解當時的紐約/華盛頓....


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胡適留學日記手稿本 結婚日期之謎揭曉


(中央社台北13日電)「胡適留學日記手稿本」今天在上海發行,其中「北京雜記」和「歸娶記」可填補現存胡適日記中整整兩年的空白,確認胡適結婚日期。
中新社報導,「胡適留學日記手稿本」由中國大陸上海人民出版社出版。手稿本根據收藏家梁勤峰2013年發現的胡適留學日記原文影印,被譽為21世紀以來胡適史料發掘最重大的發現。
胡適在日記手稿中隨文黏貼了400多張中英文剪報及照片,並有文字說明或即興感想。他對此十分得意,曾自詡為一大創舉。此次手稿本將這些照片、剪報反面的註釋都一併影印。
報導指出,在這批手稿中,胡適於民國6年(1917年)歸國後半年中所寫的「北京雜記」和「歸娶記」為首次發現,尤為珍貴。
在現存胡適日記中,民國6年7月10日到民國8年7月10日的整整兩年完全空白。而這兩年正是胡適醞釀和倡導新文學及新文化運動的重要時期。「北京雜記」和「歸娶記」正好部分填補這一空白。
「北京雜記」以讀書札記為主,包括對清代方東澍「漢學商兌」、康有為「新學偽經考」的閱讀和辨析;「歸娶記」則記錄胡適民國6年12月16日離京回績溪迎娶江冬秀的始末,頗為詳盡,確認胡適的結婚日期。

胡適未刊稿:《歸娶記》《北京雜記》


《胡適留學日記手稿本》序,修正版見 陳子善《從魯迅到張愛玲——文學史內外》北京大學出版社,2017



 第三條是關於胡適的婚期。
  前段時間,在陳子善老師的大力推動下,胡適早年的日記手稿得以影印出版。這一手稿披露了胡適早年的很多史料,對推進胡適研究,極有幫助。為此,陳子善還特意為此書寫了一篇序。在《關於胡適早年日記手稿》中,陳子善曾寫道:
  《歸娶記》記的是胡適1917年12月16日離京回績溪迎娶江冬秀的始末,記載頗為詳盡。歷來各種胡適傳記對此過程均語焉不詳,包括迄今篇幅最大的江勇振先生所著《舍我其誰:胡適》在內,連胡適到底是哪一天正式結婚的,也無從知曉,成為胡適生平研究上長期未能得到解決的一樁懸案。而《歸娶記》中已經明確記載:1917年12月30日“下午三時行結婚禮”。
  陳子善認為胡適哪一天結婚是學界長期未能解決的懸案。其實懸案不懸。胡適的秘書胡頌平在《胡適之先生晚年談話錄》中就有明確記載。1961年1月3日,胡頌平記錄胡適的談話如下:
  先生談起43年前結婚的日子,説:“當年女方要我定日子,我是不信好日子壞日子的,就定了我的陰曆生日,那年因為閏四月的關係,陰曆十一月十七日,是陽曆12月30日,女方翻歷書一看,説這天不壞,也就不反對了。”
  由此可見,胡適的結婚日期,並非學界懸案。 (時間:2015-09-23 來源:南方都市報(文/林建剛 文史學者))


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胡適留學日記稿本」今天在上海發行,其中「北京雜記」和「歸娶記」可填補現存胡適日記中整整兩年的空白,確認胡適結婚日期

中新社報導,「胡適留學日記稿本」由中國大陸上海人民出版社出版。手稿本根據收藏家梁勤峰2013年發現的胡適留學日記原文影印,被譽為21世紀以來胡適史料發掘最重大的發現。
胡適日記手稿中隨文黏貼了400多張中英文剪報及照片,並有文字說明或即興感想。他對此十分得意,曾自詡為一大創舉。此次手稿本將這些照片、剪報反面的註釋都一併影印。
報導指出,在這批手稿中,胡適於民國6年(1917年)歸國後半年中所寫的「北京雜記」和「歸娶記」為首次發現,尤為珍貴。
在現存胡適日記中,民國6年7月10日到民國8年7月10日的整整兩年完全空白。而這兩年正是胡適醞釀和倡導新文學及新文化運動的重要時期。「北京雜記」和「歸娶記」正好部分填補這一空白。
「北京雜記」以讀書札記為主,包括對清代方東澍「漢學商兌」、康有為「新學偽經考」的閱讀和辨析;「歸娶記」則記錄胡適民國6年12月16日離京回績溪迎娶江冬秀的始末,頗為詳盡,確認胡適結婚日期。1040813中央社
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胡適未刊稿:歸娶記(圖)

2014-06-22 09:29:49來源: 東方早報 (上海) 0人參與
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胡適未刊手稿
胡適未刊手稿

  胡適  嚼筋  孫詒讓《札迻》(光緒廿年板)卷七、頁十七、八云(淮南子主術訓)聾者可令嗺筋而不可使有聞也。王念孫云“嗺筋未詳。《易林》:蒙之離亦云'抱關傳言,聾跛摧筋。案……嗺當為嚼之訛。嚼俗作(廣雅釋言云“,茹也。咀,也。”玉篇口部云“同嚼”),與嗺形近而誤。《易林》展轉傳寫又誤作摧,益不可通矣。《考工記》弓人云: “筋欲敝之。”敝注鄭司農云:“嚼之當孰。”賈疏云:“筋之椎打嚼欲得勞敝。”是嚼筋為漢時常語,即謂椎打之使柔熟以纏弓弩也。  
適按,吾徽至今尚有“嚼弓筋”之語,言嘵嘵多口而無當也。亦云“瞎嚼筋”。此蓋即《淮南子》與《易林》“嚼筋”之義。  

六年七月十六日  (在上海新旅社)  張九成論語絕句  在近仁處見南匯吳省蘭所輯《藝海珠塵》(八集)。其中(系集)有宋張九成之“論語絕句”一百首。皆白話詩也。  張九成字子韶,宋紹興二年進士第一人。歷宗正少卿,謫南安軍。起知溫州。丏初,卒,諡文忠。  
此百首詩為題所限,頗多迂腐之語。然實專意作白話詩之第一人。其詩亦間有佳者。今錄數章於此。  
吾不復夢見周公  向也於公隔一重,尋思常在夢魂中。於今已是心相識,爾自西行我自東。  
子見南子,子路不悅  未識機鋒莫浪猜,行藏吾只許顏回。苟能用我吾何慊,不惜因渠也一來。  
適按,辛稼軒詞云“長憶商山,當年四老,塵埃也走咸陽道。為誰書到便幡然,至今此意無人曉。”此詩意同而不及辛詞之含蓄。  
必也狂狷乎  狂狷雖云執一偏,一偏所執尚能堅。不然欲與中行士,往往其中亦未全。
辭達而已矣  揚雄苦作艱深語,曹操空嗟幼婦詞。晚悟師言達而已,不須此外更支離。  此一首可作全書之題詞。  
八月一日(在里中)  道地。  俗話稱貨物真確可靠者曰“道地”。各地藥店招牌多書“川廣道地藥材”。故吾前作詩曾云  
請問朱與楊,什麼叫白話。貨色不道地,招牌莫亂掛。  
實則吾亦不解“道地”兩字作何解。頃見宋嚴羽答吳景仙書,中有云世之技藝猶各有家數。市縑帛者必分道地,然後知優劣。況文章乎。  
詳玩此節,似古者中國區域分道。辦貨者亦依“道地”分別貨色之高下。如今言“萬載夏布”“常熟米”是也。其後道制廢而“道地”之稱猶存,遂不易解矣。  
八月廿六日  此第十六冊札記,為運送公司所誤,吾到京後數月始收到。故另作第十七冊。今又歸里,帶有此冊,即用為“歸娶記”本子。  民國六年十二月  適  

歸娶記  
十二月十六日由北京起程。  火車中讀沙法克尼(Sophocles)戲曲五種:  一、葬兄記Antigone   二、爭甲記Ajax   三、復仇記Electra   四、歸國記 Philocletes   五、英雄末路記Oedipus at Colonus   《葬兄記》與《歸國記》皆極佳。馀殊平平。  
吾前讀其《孽冤記》King Oedipus,又嘗聽英國希臘文學大家穆萊Gilbert Murray自誦其所譯《孽冤記》。沙法克尼與墨翟同時,為希臘名家之一。今所傳僅七劇,上所記六劇之外,其一為《毒袍記》The Trachinnian Maidems吾未之讀。  
火車中極冷。窗上積人口出汽皆成冰花,麗則可喜。吾見之深念此天然之美也。然向者積汽封玻窗時,亦是天然,何以不美?美者竟因何故?因又念“美”之一字寔不易解說。若說天然為美,如秋水芙蓉是美,然糞坑中蛆,亦是天然,又何以不得為美?若說美是人力,則北地婦女抹粉塗脂亦是人工,又何以不美?因為下一界說:  
美者,天工人力所呈現象能引起吾人愉快的感情者也。  
狀詞語尾之“爾”   
吾鄉狀詞語尾為“爾”字,今讀如尼去聲。如  慢慢爾來。好好爾做。快快爾去。  此即古人“爾”字,如“徐徐爾”、“縱縱爾”是也。  形容詞語尾之“的”   吾鄉形容詞語尾為“吶”字,此即“的”字,的字在端透定,變為泥。吾鄉泥娘無別,故讀如“吶”。例如  “好吶罷?”“好吶。”(好的)  某人吶?(讀如“門吶”)(誰的?)  是我吶。(是我的。)  
到南京,以電話約陶知行來會。知行九月歸國,現在南京高等師範。  到蕪湖,以轎歸里。  

十九夜在夜航船上,忽思仲甫前擬採用胡彤夏女士之直行圈點法,用三種符號如下:  、 = ,  = ;  。= .   惟苦無“冒號”。仲甫、玄同、尹默諸人皆不能有以補之。吾亦不能得第四種符號。今夜忽思得一種“、、”號,可作冒號。如下  、 、 、 、、、 。  此種似可用,因急以書告仲甫諸人。
重唇音  
吾鄉有許多輕唇音字猶讀重唇音。  
(例)木筏讀木排  甫讀普  縛讀博  此皆古音也  又問話語尾“乎”字亦讀如罷。  能喝一杯罷?  你來罷?  又問話語尾“未”字讀“曼”(即無字)  吃飯曼?(吃飯了嗎?)  他來曼?(他來了嗎?)  此亦古音也。  淖—滒  轎上讀《淮南子·原道訓》,有“甚淖而滒,甚纖而微”兩句,高誘注云, “滒亦淖也。夫饘粥多沈者為滒,滒讀歌謳之歌。”莊逵吉曰:“按《說文解字》滒,多汁也,讀若哥。”吾鄉謂粥之多汁者曰“淖”,又曰“淖滒滒”,滒讀若呵。  
二十一日大雪行七十里,宿笮溪橋。  
二十二日,雪霽,行九十里到家。  
三溪道中,見大雪裡一個紅葉,極愛之,因攀摘下來,夾在書裡,為作一詩。  
         
雪色滿空山,抬頭忽見你。  
我不知何故,心裡狠喜歡。  
還想做首詩,寫我喜歡的道理。
不料此理狠難寫,抽出筆來還擱起。 
 

記一場無謂的筆墨官司。  
到家數日,日日聞績溪縣知事李懋延在鄉里徵糧,擾民不堪,怨聲載道。鄉里小民痛苦無所呼籲,紳民又委縮不敢與直言。我一時高興,作一書與知事,其略云:  
……古者冬日省刑,所以體天和重民命也。況今當刑律革新之時,為政者用刑,尤宜慎重將事。今聞執事在鄉數日,無一日不用非刑。鐵索盈擔,杖責盈千。差役橫行,尤為民患。甚至以些小積欠,橫迫已故學員之孀婦。尤甚者,竟以供應不周,杖責地保數百。請問執事,此幾百板子,載在新刑律第幾條?無怪乎鄉里不平之聲之載道矣。又聞執事訊事往往用極慘酷之掌責。此種非刑廢止已久。執事出任民牧,豈無所聞知耶?……   
此人極笨。得此書後,讀之半點鐘始可了解。讀後,乃以之遍各在座諸紳,遂致喧傳眾口。一時人心大快。此人初極憤激,自言拼將知事的官不要了,要和我爭一口氣。數日後,忽倩人辦賀禮送來,吾本無意與鬥氣,遂收其聯幛,而送一桌酒往謝之。  
此人本市販出身,不知用了幾個錢,弄得知事做。在鄉時,常對人言,“如今做官,資格是用不著了,須要會運動,即如兄弟到省十五日便掛牌署事了。”又聞此次段芝貴任陸軍總長,此人(亦合肥人)發電往賀,段有電複之。此人出此電遍示來訪者。其卑鄙可想也。  
上頭有段芝貴、倪嗣沖一流人,下面自然有這一班害民的官。記之一嘆。

"The Wind Blows." by Katherine Mansfield (1888-1923)



此篇 "The Wind Blows." by Katherine Mansfield譯文,收入徐志摩的【曼殊斐爾小說集】末篇【刮風】 (徐志摩全集 第五輯,pp.165-175。
然而,徐在2016.4.10 在【晨副】發表此篇序文【這是風刮的】(此篇很有意思,收入梁錫華編著的【徐志摩詩文補遺】台北:時報文化,1980,頁369-71)。,未收入。

 "The Wind Blows." by Katherine Mansfield 另有蕭乾的譯本,比較好,有註解,收入文潔若【蜜月 起風了】(台北:志文,1991,頁109-116)




"The Wind Blows." by Katherine Mansfield (1888-1923) 
From: Bliss, and Other Stories by Katherine Mansfield. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1920. pp. 137-144.
Editor: Mary Mark Ockerbloom
[Page 137] 

THE WIND BLOWS

SUDDENLY–dreadfully–she wakes up. What has happened? Something dreadful has happened. No–nothing has happened. It is only the wind shaking the house, rattling the windows, banging a piece of iron on the roof and making her bed tremble. Leaves flutter past the window, up and away; down in the avenue a whole newspaper wags in the air like a lost kite and falls, spiked on a pine tree. It is cold. Summer is over–it is autumn–everything is ugly. The carts rattle by, swinging from side to side; two Chinamen lollop along under their wooden yokes with the straining vegetable baskets–their pigtails and blue blouses fly out in the wind. A white dog on three legs yelps past the gate. It is all over! What is? Oh, everything! And she begins to plait her hair with shaking fingers, not daring to look in the glass. Mother is talking to grandmother in the hall.
"A perfect idiot! Imagine leaving anything out on the line in weather like this. . . . Now my best little Teneriffe-work teacloth is simply in ribbons. What is that extraordinary smell? It's the porridge burning. Oh, heavens–this wind!" [Page 138]
She has a music lesson at ten o'clock. At the thought the minor movement of the Beethoven begins to play in her head, the trills long and terrible like little rolling drums. . . . Marie Swainson runs into the garden next door to pick the "chrysanths" before they are ruined. Her skirt flies up above her waist; she tries to beat it down, to tuck it between her legs while she stoops, but it is no use–up it flies. All the trees and bushes beat about her. She picks as quickly as she can, but she is quite distracted. She doesn't mind what she does–she pulls the plants up by the roots and bends and twists them, stamping her foot and swearing.
"For heaven's sake keep the front door shut! Go round to the back," shouts someone. And then she hears Bogey:
"Mother, you're wanted on the telephone. Telephone, Mother. It's the butcher."
How hideous life is–revolting, simply revolting. . . . And now her hat-elastic's snapped. Of course it would. She'll wear her old tam and slip out the back way. But Mother has seen.
"Matilda. Matilda. Come back im-me-diately! What on earth have you got on your head? It looks like a tea cosy. And why have you got that mane of hair on your forehead."
"I can't come back, Mother. I'll be late for my lesson."
"Come back immediately!" [Page 138]
She won't. She won't. She hates Mother. "Go to hell," she shouts, running down the road.
In waves, in clouds, in big round whirls the dust comes stinging, and with it little bits of straw and chaff and manure. There is a loud roaring sound from the trees in the gardens, and standing at the bottom of the road outside Mr. Bullen's gate she can hear the sea sob: "Ah! . . . Ah! . . . Ah-h!" But Mr. Bullen's drawing-room is as quiet as a cave. The windows are closed, the blinds half-pulled, and she is not late. The-girl-before-her has just started playing MacDowell's "To an Iceberg." Mr. Bullen looks over at her and half smiles.
"Sit down," he says. "Sit over there in the sofa corner, little lady."
How funny he is. He doesn't exactly laugh at you . . . but there is just something. . . . Oh, how peaceful it is here. She likes this room. It smells of art serge and stale smoke and chrysanthemums . . . there is a big vase of them on the mantelpiece behind the pale photograph of Rubinstein . . . á mon ami Robert Bullen. . . . . Over the black glittering piano hangs "Solitude"–a dark tragic woman draped in white, sitting on a rock, her knees crossed, her chin on her hands.
"No, no!" says Mr. Bullen, and he leans over the other girl, puts his arms over her shoulders and plays the passage for her. The stupid–she's blushing! How ridiculous! [Page 140]
Now the-girl-before-her has gone; the front door slams. Mr. Bullen comes back and walks up and down, very softly, waiting for her. What an extraordinary thing. Her fingers tremble so that she can't undo the knot in the music satchel. It's the wind. . . . And her heart beats so hard she feels it must lift her blouse up and down. Mr. Bullen does not say a word. The shabby red piano seat is long enough for two people to sit side by side. Mr. Bullen sits down by her.
"Shall I begin with scales?" she asks, squeezing her hands together. "I had some arpeggios, too."
But he does not answer. She doesn't believe he even hears . . . and then suddenly his fresh hand with the ring on it reaches over and opens Beethoven.
"Let's have a little of the old master," he says.
But why does he speak so kindly–so awfully kindly–and as though they had known each other for years and years and knew everything about each other.
He turns the page slowly. She watches his hand–it is a very nice hand and always looks as though it had just been washed.
"Here we are," says Mr. Bullen.
Oh, that kind voice–Oh, that minor movement. Here come the little drums. . . .
"Shall I take the repeat?"
"Yes, dear child."
His voice is far, far too kind. The crotchets and [Page 141]  quavers are dancing up and down the stave like little black boys on a fence. Why is he so . . . She will not cry–she has nothing to cry about. . . .
"What is it, dear child?"
Mr. Bullen takes her hands. His shoulder is there–just by her head. She leans on it ever so little, her cheek against the springy tweed.
"Life is so dreadful," she murmurs, but she does not feel it's dreadful at all. He says something about "waiting" and "marking time" and "that rare thing, a woman," but she does not hear. It is so comfortable . . . for ever . . .
Suddenly the door opens and in pops Marie Swainson, hours before her time.
"Take the allegretto a little faster," says Mr. Bullen, and gets up and begins to walk up and down again.
"Sit in the sofa corner, little lady," he says to Marie.

The wind, the wind. It's frightening to be here in her room by herself. The bed, the mirror, the white jug and basin gleam like the sky outside. It's the bed that is frightening. There it lies, sound asleep.. . . Does Mother imagine for one moment that she is going to darn all those stockings knotted up on the quilt like a coil of snakes? She's not. No, Mother. I do not see why I should. . . . The wind–the wind! There's a funny smell of [Page 142]  soot blowing down the chimney. Hasn't anyone written poems to the wind? . . . "I bring fresh flowers to the leaves and showers." . . . What nonsense.
"Is that you, Bogey?"
"Come for a walk round the esplanade, Matilda. I can't stand this any longer."
"Right-o. I'll put on my ulster. Isn't it an awful day!" Bogey's ulster is just like hers. Hooking the collar she looks at herself in the glass. Her face is white, they have the same excited eyes and hot lips. Ah, they know those two in the glass. Good-bye, dears; we shall be back soon.
"This is better, isn't it?"
"Hook on," says Bogey.
They cannot walk fast enough. Their heads bent, their legs just touching, they stride like one eager person through the town, down the asphalt zigzag where the fennel grows wild, and on to the esplanade. It is dusky–just getting dusky. The wind is so strong that they have to fight their way through it, rocking like two old drunkards. All the poor little pahutukawas on the esplanade are bent to the ground.
"Come on! Come on! Let's get near."
Over by the breakwater the sea is very high. They pull off their hats and her hair blows across her mouth, tasting of salt. The sea is so high that the waves do not break at all; they thump against the rough stone wall and suck up the weedy, [Page 143]  dripping steps. A fine spray skims from the water right across the esplanade. They are covered with drops; the inside of her mouth tastes wet and cold.
Bogey's voice is breaking. When he speaks he rushes up and down the scale. It's funny–it makes you laugh–and yet it just suits the day. The wind carries their voices–away fly the sentences like narrow ribbons.
"Quicker! Quicker!"
It is getting very dark. In the harbour the coal hulks show two lights–one high on a mast, and one from the stern.
"Look, Bogey. Look over there."
A big black steamer with a long loop of smoke streaming, with the portholes lighted, with lights everywhere, is putting out to sea. The wind does not stop her; she cuts through the waves, making for the open gate between the pointed rocks that leads to . . . It's the light that makes her look so awfully beautiful and mysterious. . . . They are on board leaning over the rail arm in arm.
" . . . Who are they?"
" . . . Brother and sister."
"Look, Bogey, there's the town. Doesn't it look small? There's the post office clock chiming for the last time. There's the esplanade where we walked that windy day. Do you remember? I cried at my music lesson that day–how many years ago ! Good-bye, little island, good-bye. . . . " [Page 144]
Now the dark stretches a wing over the tumbling water. They can't see those two any more. Good-bye, good-bye. Don't forget. . . . But the ship is gone, now.
The wind–the wind.
[Page 145]

2017年10月23日 星期一

Year 1926:胡適及其友人:【漢清講堂】數集


考慮做幾集【漢清講堂】,探討"1926年的胡適及其友人"。





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  • 9月15日——倭鏗,德國唯心主義哲學家,1908年諾貝爾文學獎獲得者。

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P.E.N.; the Early Years, 1921-1926 - Marjorie Watts - Google Books


https://books.google.com/books/about/P_E_N_the_Early_Years_1921_1926.html?id...
Title, P.E.N.; the Early Years, 1921-1926. Author, Marjorie Watts. Edition, illustrated. Publisher, Archive Press, 1971. Original from, the University of California.




《紅色饑荒:史達林對烏克蘭的戰爭》
(RED FAMINE: Stalin’s War on Ukraine) 
作者:安妮·阿普爾鮑姆(Anne Applebaum) 
461頁。雙日出版社(Doubleday),35美元。



一戰快結束時,各個帝國紛紛崩潰,在這種混亂之中,烏克蘭宣布獨立,但它著名的肥沃黑土和黑海港口成為各種相互對抗的獨立運動的誘人戰利品,遭到白俄羅斯人、布爾什維克以及其他鄰國爭奪。經過數年極度血腥的爭奪之後(1919年,基輔經歷了十幾次易手),烏克蘭被兩個新生國家瓜分:波蘭和蘇聯,後者搶佔了大部分領土。
阿普爾鮑姆寫道,甚至在實施災難性的集體農業生產之前,俄羅斯的新統治者就已「再次遵循沙皇設定的先例」,「他們查封了烏克蘭語報紙,禁止在學校使用烏克蘭語,關閉了烏克蘭語劇院」。1920年代中期,蘇聯政權穩固確立後,開始嘗試一項新政策,就像在蘇聯的其他非俄羅斯地區一樣,給予烏克蘭語官方語言的地位,允許出版權威的烏俄詞典。 
然而,這個實施有限寬容政策的時期並沒有讓烏克蘭人成為幸福的蘇聯人,只是引發了近800萬居住在俄羅斯的烏克蘭人建立更多烏克蘭語學校的呼聲;烏克蘭人還要求進一步擴展邊界,以納入那些烏克蘭人居住的地區。克里姆林宮感到警惕,因此迅速扭轉了政策。

1920年代末期,東正教的烏克蘭教派遭到鎮壓,數以萬計的烏克蘭教師和知識分子遭到逮捕,其中45人在哈爾科夫歌劇院接受了一場作秀式的審判。在學校和圖書館中,數以千計的烏克蘭語書籍被清理出去。那個字典項目如今被判定為顛覆行動,很多項目工作人員遭到逮捕和槍殺。一些烏克蘭詞語被規定不得在報刊上使用,必須以更近似俄語的詞彙代替。官方甚至從烏克蘭語的西里爾字母表中刪掉了一個字母,讓它看上去更像俄文,彷彿字母表也犯了叛國罪,不得不受到懲罰。


這種衝突的民族主義幽靈也貫穿在阿普爾鮑姆的新書《紅色饑荒:史達林對烏克蘭的戰爭》之中,該書詳細講述了於1933年達到頂峰的大饑荒,據估計,它導致500多萬蘇聯人死亡,其中390多萬為烏克蘭人。史達林從之前幾年開始,無情地強迫數百萬獨立的小農進入新的集體農場,他確信這樣能夠提高生產力,養活蘇聯的城市。那些農民當然拒絕放棄自己的土地,紛紛屠殺和吃掉被要求跟他們一起帶走的家畜,他們被帶去集體農場後——有時是被槍逼著去的——幾乎毫無勞動積極性。



1972.6.26 卜少夫 黃昏倫敦: 已嗅不到它領導天下的氣質和氣派了。