雙語散文|巴 金——木匠老陳
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木匠老陳
生活的經(jīng)驗固然會叫人忘記許多事情。但是有些記憶經(jīng)過了多少時間的磨洗也不會消滅。故鄉(xiāng)里那些房屋，那些街道至今還印在我的腦子里。我還記得我每天到學(xué)堂去總要走過的木匠老陳的鋪?zhàn)印?br /> 木匠老陳那時不過四十歲光景，臉長得像驢子臉，左眼下面有塊傷疤，嘴唇上略有幾根胡須。大家都說他的相貌丑，但是同時人人稱贊他的脾氣好。
他平日在店里。但是他也常常到相熟的公館里去做活，或者做包工，或者做零工。我們家里需要木匠的時候，總是去找他。我就在這時候認(rèn)識他。他在我們家里做活，我只要有空，就跑去看他工作。
我那時注意的，并不是他本人，倒是他的那些工具：什么有輪齒的鋸子啦，有兩個耳朵的刨子啦，會旋轉(zhuǎn)的鉆子啦，像圖畫里板斧一般的斧子啦。這些奇怪的東西我以前全沒有看見過。一塊粗糙的木頭經(jīng)過了斧子劈，鋸子鋸，刨子刨，就變成了一方或者一條光滑整齊的木板，再經(jīng)過鉆子、鑿子等等工具以后，又變成了各種各樣的東西；像美麗的窗格，鏤花的壁板等等細(xì)致的物件，都是這樣制成的。
老陳和他的徒弟的工作使我的眼界寬了不少。那時我還在家里讀書，祖父聘請了一位前清的老秀才來管教我們。老秀才不知道教授的方法，他只教我們認(rèn)一些字，呆板地讀一些書。此外他就把我們關(guān)在書房里，端端正正地坐在凳子上，讓時間白白地過去。過慣了這種單調(diào)的生活以后，無怪乎我特別喜歡老陳了。
老陳常常彎著腰，拿了尺子和墨線盒在木板上面畫什么東西。我便安靜地站在旁邊專心地望著，連眼珠也不轉(zhuǎn)一下。他畫好了墨線，便拿起鋸子或者鑿子來。我有時候覺得有些地方很奇怪，不明白，就問他，他很和氣地對我一一說明。他的態(tài)度比那個老秀才的好得多。
家里的人看見我對老陳的工作感到這么大的興趣，并不來干涉我，卻嘲笑地喚我做老陳的徒弟，父親甚至開玩笑地說要把我送到老陳那里學(xué)做木匠。但這些嘲笑都是好意的，父親的確喜歡我。因此有一個時候我居然相信父親真有這樣的想法，而且我對老陳說過要跟他學(xué)做木匠的話。
“你要學(xué)做木匠？真笑話！有錢的少爺應(yīng)該讀書，將來好做官！窮人的小孩才學(xué)做木匠，”老陳聽見我的話，馬上就笑起來。
“為什么不該學(xué)做木匠？做官有什么好？修房子，做家具，才有趣??！我做木匠，我要給自己修房子，爬到上面去，爬得高高的，”我看見他不相信我的話，把它只當(dāng)做小孩子的胡說，我有些生氣，就起勁地爭論道。
“爬得高，會跌下來，”老陳隨口說了這一句，他的笑容漸漸地收起來了。
“跌下來，你騙我！我就沒有見過木匠跌下來。”
老陳看我一眼，依舊溫和地說：“做木匠修房子，常常拿自己性命來拚。一個不當(dāng)心在上面滑了腳，跌下來，不跌成肉醬，也會得一輩子的殘疾。”他說到這里就埋下頭，用力在木板上推他的刨子，木板查查地響著，一卷一卷的刨花接連落在地上。他過了半晌又加了一句：“我爹就是這樣子跌死的。”
我不相信他的話。一個人會活活地跌死！我沒有看見過，也沒有聽見人說過。既然他父親做木匠跌死了，為什么他現(xiàn)在還做木匠呢？我簡直想不通。
“你騙我，我不信！那么你為什么還要做木匠？難道你就不怕死！”
“做木匠的人這樣多，不見得個個都遭橫死，我學(xué)的是這行手藝，不靠它吃飯又靠什么？”他苦惱地說。然后他抬起頭來看我，他的眼角上嵌得有淚珠。他哭了！
我看見他流眼淚，不知道要怎么辦才好，就跑開了。
不久祖父生病死了，我也進(jìn)了學(xué)堂，不再受那個老秀才的管束了。祖父死后木匠老陳不曾到我們家里來過。但是我每天到學(xué)堂去都要經(jīng)過他那個小小的鋪?zhàn)印?br /> 有時候他在店里招呼我；有時候他不在，只有一兩個徒弟在那里釘?shù)首踊蛘咧圃靹e的物件。他的店起初還能夠維持下去，但是不久省城里發(fā)生了巷戰(zhàn)，一連打了三天，然后那兩位軍閥因為別人的調(diào)解又握手言歡了。老陳的店在這個時期遭到“丘八”的光顧，他的一點(diǎn)點(diǎn)積蓄都給搶光了，只剩下一個空鋪?zhàn)?。這以后他雖然勉強(qiáng)開店，生意卻很蕭條。我常?？匆娝迒手樤诘昀镒龉?。他的精神頹喪，但是他仍然不停手地做活。我聽說他晚上時常到小酒館里喝酒。
又過了幾個月他的店終于關(guān)了門。我也就看不見他的蹤跡了。有人說他去吃糧當(dāng)了兵，有人說他到外縣謀生去了。然而有一天我在街上碰見了他。他手里提著一個籃子，里面裝了幾件木匠用的工具。
“老陳，你還在省城！人家說你吃糧去了！”我快活地大聲叫起來。
“我只會做木匠，我就只會做木匠！一個人應(yīng)該安分守己，”他搖搖頭微微笑道，他的笑容里帶了一點(diǎn)悲哀。他沒有什么大改變，只是人瘦了些，臉黑了些，衣服臟了些。
“少爺，你好好讀書。你將來做了官，我來給你修房子，”他繼續(xù)含笑說。
我抓住他的袖子，再也說不出一句話來。他告辭走了。他還告訴我他在他從前一個徒弟的店里幫忙。這個徒弟如今發(fā)達(dá)了，他卻在那里做一個匠人。
以后我就沒有再看見老陳。我雖然喜歡他，但是過了不幾天我又把他忘記了。等到公館里的轎夫告訴我一個消息的時候，我才記起他來。
那個轎夫報告的是什么消息呢？
他告訴我：老陳同別的木匠一起在南門一家大公館里修樓房，工程快要完了，但是不曉得怎樣，老陳竟然從樓上跌下來，跌死了。
在那么多的木匠里面，偏偏是他跟著他父親落進(jìn)了橫死的命運(yùn)圈里。這似乎是偶然，似乎又不是偶然?？傊?，一個安分守己的人就這樣地消滅了。
Carpenter Lao Chen
Lots of things are apt to fade from memory as one's life experiences accumulate. But some memories will withstand the wear and tear of time.Those houses and streets in my home town still remain engraved on my mind. I still can recall how every day on my way to school I would invariably walk past Carpenter Lao Chen's shop.
Carpenter Lao Chen was then only about forty years old, with a longish face like that of a donkey, a scar under his left eye, and a wispy moustache on his upper lip. People said he looked ugly, yet they praised him for his good temper.
He usually worked in his own shop. But from time to time he was employed by some rich people he knew well to work at their residences, either as a hired hand on contract or as an odd jobber. Whenever my family needed a carpenter, he was always the man we wanted. That was how I got to know him. While he was in our home, I would come out to watch him work in my spare time.
What attracted my attention, however, was not the man himself, but the tools he used, such as the saw with toothed blade, the plane with two ear-like handles, the revolving drill, the hatchet that looked like the broad axe in drawings — things entirely strange to me. A piece of coarse wood, after being processed with the hatchet, saw and plane, would become pieces of smooth and tidy wood, square or rectangular in shape. After further treatment with the chisel, drill, etc., they would end up as various kinds of exquisite articles, such as beautiful window lattices, ornamental engravings on wooden partitions.
The work which Lao Chen and his apprentices did was a real eye-opener to me. I was then studying at home under the tutorship of an old scholar of the Qing Dynasty whom my grandfather had engaged. The old scholar knew nothing about teaching methods. All he did was make me learn some Chinese characters and do some dull reading. Apart from that, he had me cooped up in my study and sit bolt upright doing nothing while time was slipping through my fingers. Because of this monotonous life, it was no wonder that I developed a particular liking for Carpenter Lao Chen.
He was often bent over drawing something on a plank with a ruler and an ink marker. And I would stand by and watch quietly and intently, my eyes riveted on him. After making the line with the ink marker, he would pick up the saw or the chisel. Sometimes, when something puzzled me, I would ask him questions out of curiosity, and he would explain patiently everything in detail. He was much more agreeable than the old scholar.
My folks, however, showed no sign of disapproval when they found me so much interested in Lao Chen's work, but only teasingly called me an apprentice of his. Father even said jokingly that he was going to apprentice me to Lao Chen. All that was the well-meaning remarks of an affectionate father. Once I even believed that father had meant what he said, and I even told Lao Chen that that was exactly what I had in mind.
You want to learn carpentry? said Lao Chen immediately with a smile "No kidding! A wealthy young master like you should study and grow up to be a government official! Only poor people's kids learn carpentry."
Somewhat annoyed by the way he shrugged off my words as childish nonsense, I argued heatedly, "Why not become a carpenter? What's the good of being a government official? It's great fun to build houses and make furniture. If I'm a carpenter, I'll climb high up, very high up, to build a house for myself."
You may fall down if you climb high, said he casually, the smile on his face fading away.
Fall down? You're fooling me! I've never seen a carpenter fall down.
Shooting a glance at me, he continued with undiminished patience,
A carpenter often has to risk his own life in building a house. One careless slip, and you fall down. You'll be disabled for life, if not reduced to a pulp. Thereupon, he bent his head and forcefully pushed his plane over a plank, the shavings of which fell continuously onto the ground amidst the screeching sound. Then he added after a moment's silence,
That's how my father died.
I just could not bring myself to believe it. How could a man die like that? I had never seen it happen, nor had I ever heard of it. If his father had died of an accident as a carpenter, why should Lao Chen himself still be a carpenter now? I just couldn't figure it out.
You're fooling me. I don't believe you! How come you're still a carpenter? Can you be unafraid of death?
Lots of guys are in this trade, he went on gloomily. "It doesn't follow that everybody meets with such a violent death. Carpentry is my trade. What else could I rely on to make a living?" He looked up at me, some teardrops visible from the corners of his eyes. He was crying!
I was at a loss when I saw him in tears, so I went away quietly.
Not long afterwards, my grandpa fell ill and died, and I was enrolled in a school, no longer under the control of the old scholar. Lao Chen never came again to work in our household after grandpa's death. But every day on my way to school, I would pass by his small shop.
Sometimes he beckoned me from his shop. Sometimes he was absent, leaving a couple of his apprentices there hammering nails into a stool or making some other articles. At first, he could somehow scrape along. Soon street fighting broke out in the provincial capital, lasting three days until the dispute between two warlords was settled through the mediation of a third party. In the course of the fighting, soldiers looted Lao Chen's shop until it was empty of everything. After that, nevertheless, he still managed to keep his shop open though business was bad. I often saw him working in his shop with a saddened look on his face. Dejected as he was, he worked on as usual. I heard that he often went drinking at a small wine shop in the evening.
Several months later, his shop closed down for good and I lost all trace of him. Some said he had gone soldiering, others said he had gone to another county to seek a livelihood. One day, however, I ran into him in the street. He was carrying a basket filled with some carpenter's tools.
Lao Chen, I yelled out in joy, "you're still here in the provincial capital! People say you've joined up!"
I'm good at nothing else but carpentry, I'm good at nothing else but carpentry! One should be content with one's lot. He shook his head, wearing a faint smile with a touch of sorrow. There was not much change in him except that he was thinner, his face darker and his clothes dirtier.
Young master, he continued smilingly, "you should study hard. Let me build a house for you someday when you're a government official."
I took hold of his sleeve, unable to utter a word. He said goodbye to me and went away. He had told me that he was now working at the shop of a former apprentice of his. The apprentice was doing quite well while Lao Chen was now his hired hand.
Thenceforth I never saw Lao Chen again. Much as I liked him, I soon forgot him. It was not until the sedan-chair bearer of a rich household passed on to me the news that I remembered him again.
What news did the sedan-chair bearer tell me?
He told me: Lao Chen, together with other carpenters, was building a mansion for a rich household at the southern city gate. When it was nearing completion, it suddenly came to pass that he fell off the building and died.
Why did Lao Chen, of all carpenters, die such a violent death like his father? All that seems accidental, and also seems predestined. In short, an honest man has thus passed out of existence.
巴金（1904—2005）的《木匠老陳》寫于1934年，后編入他的散文集《生之懺悔》。這是一篇傳記體的回憶性文章，熱情洋溢，充滿濃郁的抒情色彩，對舊時淳樸的勞動大眾的苦難深表同情。
