中国诗人苏轼 Su Shi
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The Chinese literator and poet Su Shi lived from AD 1037 to 1101. During his life, he created many works. He was perhaps most famous for his poems, but he also wrote many essays and was famous in the officialdom. I admire Su Shi because he has made a great contribution to the literature and was tough even when facing troubles.
In Chinese history, Su Shi, together with his brother Su Zhe and father Su Xun, were all famous and were called Three Sus. But Su Shi’s contribution was the greatest. He not only created wonderful works, but also did many good things for common people when he was an officer. Today, there is still a Su Bank in Hangzhou Province.
Because of Su’s talent, Su was envied and was relegated to Huangzhou, a poor place. Even when Su was there, he didn’t lose his spirit for the life. What’s more, his poems created at that time was even better. Su’s time has past, but his spirit lives forever.
Su Shi, who appears as a star in Song Dynasty, lights up my heart and soul with his great spirit. Whenever I meet difficulties, I can hear him saying, “Be hopeful and powerful, believe you can face the reality!”
（蘇東坡傳）－－英文簡介．林語堂[转帖]
The Gay Genius: The Life and Times of Su Tungpo（蘇東坡傳）
Lin Yutang 林語堂
－－簡介而已。
THE GAY GENIUS (The Life and Times of Su Tungpo), Lin Yutang, The John Day
Company, New York, 1947.
It is obvious that Lin Yutang greatly admired this outstanding Sung poet.
His book is a remarkably enchanting tribute to this versatile and highly
ethical personality. As a traditional landscape painting, this biography,
four hundred pages long, unrolls scene by charming scene, revealing this
so splendid spirit, this irrepresible human-hearted soul embellishing the
arts, striving to save lives, adorning the many places he was pulled and
driven in the turbulent politics of his time.
The preface (pages vii-xi) and the introductory chapter, Literary
Patriotic Duke (pp. 1-13), present the enormous appreciation this sincere
and outspoken advisor has enjoyed for some nine centuries. Their core is
Emperor Shiaotsungs page long preface to Sus complete works. Seventy
years after Sus death, the Emperor wrote:
We sigh at the appearance of such a rare genius and are shocked at his
suffering from his detractors. He was banished across the seas and
mountains... What could not be taken away from him was his sturdy
integrity... We regret not being born at the same time with him in
order to make full use of his talents as a counselor of kings. p. 9
Chapter Two, Meishan (pp. 14-22), introduces the reader to the town
where Su Tung-po was born and to his father, Su Shun, brother, Su Cheh
(Tseyu), and grandfather. It mentions the eloquence of the inhabitants of
Szechuan, the reckoning of age (one is born one and is two on ones first
New Years Day), the ancient custom forbidding one to say or write the
personal name of ones father or grandfather. Hence, Su Tung-po used
forward instead of preface and Ssu-ma Chien avoided talk.
Chapter Three, Childhood and Youth (pp. 23-33), explores the early years
of Su Tung-po, mentions his attending a school with more than a hundred
pupils, the memorization of Classics and History, including Sus copying
out complete text, the invention of printing, Chinese naming conventions,
Sus legendary younger sister and the family feud occasioned by the early
death of his actual older sister. shortly after her marriage.
Chapter Four, The Examinations (pp. 34-43), begins with Sus marriage,
his journey with his father and brother to Chengtu, the provincial capital
and thence to the national metropolis, where they saw the sights of the
splendid city, met people and the brothers wrote their examinations.
The candidates were examined first on questions of history or
principles of government. There was a second examination on the
classics, and finally, after the successful ones had been graded, there
was one -- under the direct supervision of the emperor -- on lyrics,
descriptive poetry (fu), and again, essays on politics. p. 39
The great scholar Ouyang Shiu marked and greatly admired Su Tung-pos
work. Then Sus mother died and he undertook the traditional thrice nine
moons period of mourning.
Chapter Five, Father and Sons (pp. 44-54), describes the move of the
family from home, where an appropriate family grave site had been selected
and funeral ceremonies conducted, to the metropolis, eleven hundred miles
away. This journey is very poetically described, including with
translations of some of Sus poems on the four month spectacular trip.
Chapter Six, Gods, Devils and Men (pp. 57-74), starts with Tung-pos
departure for his post as assistant magistrate of Fengshiang and his
poetic letters to his brother. His official duties included praying to end
a drought:
On top of the Taipo Mountain, in front of a Taoist temple, there was a
little pool where lived the God of Rain, a dragon who could disguise
himself in the form of any small fish. Su Tungpo went up to this and
prayed. He pleaded for the farmers, but, like a good lawyer, he tried
to make the Dragon God see that a drought or famine was not to the
gods own interest. p. 61
When this initially failed, it was felt the god could be displeased by his
demotion to count. Su verified that Tang referred to the god as duke,
drafted a memorial requesting the emperor restore this rank, sent a
messenger to so inform the god and to return with a basin of water from
the sacred pool. Rain came with the basin.
The men in the chapters title include the old soldier Chang Chun. Su
Tung-po, after his three year term, returned to the metropolis where he
was assigned to the department of history. His young wife died and a year
later his father. He observed the traditional thrice nine months mourning
for a parent. After this he married again and returned to the capital.
Chapter Seven, Experiment in State Capitalism (pp. 75-98), introduces
the central political reality of Sus life, the reforms of Wang An-shih.
Lin Yutang lists the three great upheavals previously: those of Shang Yang
of the Chin Dynasty, of Han Wu-ti and of the usurper Wang Mang. All,
including the efforts of Wang An-shih, are assessed as failures. The
portrait the author paints of the brilliant reformer resembles the
caricature of the mad scientist, so absorbed in his thoughts he has no
awareness of his immediate surroundings. He had steadily declined all
promotions, preferring to remain a local magistrate, but at last he
accepted.
Wang An-shih advanced his ideas as based on the traditional intent of the
sage rulers Yao and Shun. This enabled him to portray those who opposed
his reforms as just like the evil ministers of those rulers:
The most important and the best known were nine in number, which I have
for the sake of convenience arranged in three groups. There were three
state capitalist enterprises, three new taxes, and three systems of
registration for a complete regimentation and control of the people.
The three state capitalist enterprises were: a government bureau for
national trade, a bureau for government stores in retail trade, and the
famous loans to the farmers with an official interest of twenty per
cent and an actual interest of thirty per cent (i.e., plus application
and registration charges). The three new taxes were the draft exemption
tax, the excise tax, and the income tax. The systems of registration
were the organizing of all citizens into groups of ten families for
military draft (the paochia), and the re-registration of land and of
horses. pp. 87-88
The farmers loans had enormous impact. There had been grain store houses
to offset bad years. However, the new loans forced on farmers slow in
voluntarily subscribing hit hard those faced with paying them back with
high interest. Wang An-shih also set aside previous commentaries on some of
the Confucian classics and presented his own views as authoritative.
These Commentaries were so bad that they were soon forgotten after his
death, and no copy has been preserved. But while he was in power, they
were the bible of the scholar candidates at the examinations the
slightest variation from the interpretation of the premier was enough
to disqualify a paper. p. 95
The chapter closes by laughing at Wang An-shihs fanciful etymologies,
mentioning his modern defenders, but asserting that the results of his
reforms are the only criteria and these condemn them.
Chapter Eight, The Bull-Headed Premier (pp. 99-124), begins with
reference to a Sung short story with this title, derived from the
determination of Wang An-shih and his opposition to freedom of expression.
There follows a description of Sung government and a list of the
personalities involved. Wang An-shih had opposed to him his two brothers
and some of his former friends, as well as Ssu-ma Kuang and the Su
brothers. However, he had the support of the young Emperor Shentsung and
that was the one deciding vote. Wang moved against the censors. Their
function of speaking up frankly was unacceptable to him. Many others,
including Su Tung-po, also spoke up against the harm of Wangs reforms.
There followed resignations and demotions.
Su Tung-pos memorial in 1070 stated that what was against reason and
against nature would fail, that deeds not words counted in arousing
opposition to the reforms by those effected by them, and that the upright
cannot be silenced.
But since history began, force has never been able to suppress the
people. In ancient days scholars were threatened with knives and saws
in front and the boiling pot behind, but that did not stop them from
voicing their convictions. p. 111
His memorial of 1071, nine thousand words long, asserted that popular
support of the monarch depended on freedom of expression, that the
censorate unimpeded was essential and that what was needed was action, not
words.
You have established the bureau of economic planning which is for the
purpose of securing revenue. You have sent out over forty tax
commissioners, whose evident objective can only be to raise money for
the government. It is useless for a man to ride out to the forests with
a pack of greyhounds and announce to the world, I am not going
hunting, or for a man to go with a fish not to the lakes and declare,
I am not going fishing. It would be much better to stop the rumors by
throwing away the fish nets and sending home the hunting dogs.
pp. 122-3
This outspokenness resulted in Sus being sent out to the provinces.
Chapter Nine, The Evil That Men Do (pp. 125-140), describes further the
departure of those opposed to the reforms, the arrival of signs of
Heavens displeasure (the landslide on Mt. Huashan and drought) as well as
riots, the moving paintings of the suffering presented to the emperor by a
gatekeeper, leading to the dismissal of Wang An-shih and pleasing rain.
There was internal squabbling amongst those of Wangs faction still in
power, and Wangs departure was only temporary. In October 1076, a year
and a half after his return he retired, following the death of his son.
Chapter Ten, Two Brothers (pp. 134-140), mentions Sus visit to his
brother Tseyu and his response to Tseyus advice to keep silent:
I know, said Su Tungpo, to his brother, that I am always careless of
my speech. When I find something is wrong, it is like finding a fly in
my food, and I just have to spit it out. p. 135
There is mention of Su Tungpos energy, chi, elan vital, and the two poems
he wrote on parting from Tseyu are quoted.
Chapter Eleven, Poetry, Courtesans and Monks (pp. 141-165), looks at the
happy time Su spent in Hangchow. The charms of the city are presented and
Wu Tsemus book is mentioned. Then comes reference to Su Tung-pos
foreknowledge of details connected with the place and his belief that he
had lived there in a previous incarnation. He disliked presiding at the
trials of those who had fallen afoul of the reforms. He enjoyed the
natural beauty of the area.
There is mention of the role of courtesans in the transmission and renewal
of poetry, music and dance. There is reference to Lin Yutangs theory that
Su loved a nameless cousin, and to Sus knowing the Cindarella story.
Chapter Twelve, Poetry of Protest (pp. 166-177), looks at some of Sus
poems of the period and comments on tonal patterns. It mentions that while
the poet wasnt advocating rebellion, still his memorable verse struck
those in power as a multitude of mosquito bites.
Chapter Thirteen, The Yellow Tower (pp. 178-186), considers his time as
chief magistrate of Suchow (1077-1079) and his work protecting the city
from flood waters. A great yellow tower, the colour chosen to represent
the element earth, subduer of water, was built above the flood wall, and
this term Yellow Tower was applied to the poems Su wrote during his stay
in Suchow. The chapter mentions his disciples: Chang Lei, Chao Puchih,
Chin Kuan and Huang Tingchien.
Chapter Fourteen, Arrest and Trial (pp. 187-204), begins by mentioning
evidences from Sus writing of his displeasure with the reformers, of Sus
mourning for his friend Wen Tung the painter and his arrest. Then comes Su
Tung-pos imprisonment and trial:
...over a hundred poems were brought up in the trial for examination,
each of which the author was required to explain. As Su Tung-po had in
all his poetry used the choicest of phrases and a great number of
literary and historical allusions, we are indebted to this record of
the trial for the authors own elucidations of many passages in his
texts. p. 197
In the opinion of this reviewer, those in charge displayed some humorous
sensitivity:
There was also a poem about peonies in which the poet admired the
incredible ingenuity of nature in creating such a great variety of the
same species. This was taken by the judges as a sly reference to the
ingenuity of those in power in devising new forms of taxation.
pp. 197-198
Sus punishment was demotion to a minor post near Hungchow.
Chapter Fifteen, Farmer of the Eastern Slope (pp. 207-223), shows the
poet enjoying the scenery, reading Buddhist texts, studying Taoist life
extension, farming, delighting in the company of friends and becoming
known as the recluse of Tung-po (the Eastern Slope). It reveals also his
skill at cooking and his efforts to oppose infanticide.
Chapter Sixteen, Poet of the Red Cliff (pp. 224-232), presents Su
passing a pleasant time with his friends, wine and poetry. When he began
to keep to himself, the rumour went through the capital that he had died,
drawing his quip that its reliability was typical of rumours about him.
There is a sensitive portrayal or prose rendition of Sus depictions of
the Red Cliff in the title, backdrop of an historical naval battle, of
natural beauty and thoughts on the nature of human life and Taoist
immortals.
Chapter Seventeen, Yoga and Alchemy (pp. 233-246), informs us that
Tung-pos brother had started practising yoga in 1069, and Tung-po
himself began seriously to study mysticism (yoga, Buddhism and Taoism)
during his Huangchow period. He had an alchemical furnace and sought the
immortality pill. He understood that attention to meditation, diet,
breathing exercises, etc. impacted strongly on ones vitality, health and
longevity, even if one didnt remain forever in this incarnation. There is
mention of the contrast between the Western concept of exercise and the
Chinese one of the conservation of energy.
The peculiarity of yoga is that it combines this complete physical and
mental rest with the increased intake of oxygen through different forms
of controlled breathing. Nothing can be more ideal, for it seems that
with a light stomach, a posture of complete relaxation, and deep
respiration, the body is put in the unusually favorable state of
getting extra supplies of oxygen without corresponding expenditures of
energy, which is not the case in sports. p. 237
There is reference to the absence of thought, to a technique of swallowing
saliva, to Taoist concepts of fire and water (emotions and fluids) and to
Sus four maxims for long life:
1. Having leisure equals having power.
2. Going to bed early equals having wealth.
3. A leisurely stroll is as enjoyable as a drive.
4. Eating late is as good as eating meat. pp. 245-246
Chapter Eighteen, Years of Wanderings (pp. 247-257), shows Sus
enjoyable retirement being disturbed by orders from above. It was actually
an easing of his punishment that had him moved to a more prosperous place
nearer the capital. On his journey he visited his brother and Wang
An-shih. The reformer was now weary and retired. And, Su used much of his
money buying a place and then giving it to the sellers mother, when Su
came upon her sobbong because her son had sold the place she had lived all
her life. He also penned poetic thanks to a magistrate who had gone with
him after dark along a bridge. Su was unaware this was forbidden, until
the magistrates unexpected reaction.
I have just read your poem. But this is serious, very serious! With
your national reputation, this poem is bound to reach the court. An
ordinary citizen crossing the bridge at night is punishable by two
years hard labor. For a magistrate himself to violate this law would
be still worse. I beg of you to keep this poem to yourself and not show
it to others. p. 256
The emperor died, and, after moving to the lake district and then to a
magistracy in Shantung, Su was recalled to the capital.
Chapter Nineteen, Empresss Favorite (pp. 258-273), begins by
contrasting the problems some empresses caused previous dynasties with the
situation in this age.
The Sung dynasty was unusually fortunate in having a succession of good
empresses. In the great Han and Tang dynasties, some wives of the
emperors either usurped the throne and ruled through powerful eunuchs
and relatives of their maiden families, or otherwise succeeded in
bringing about the fall of the imperial house. In the time of Su Tungpo,
however, the wives of the four emperors under whom he served were all
good women, and some were remarkable. p. 258
Su Tung-po was rapidly promoted by the regent. There is the fascinating
glimpse of the drafter of imperial edicts required to be on duty on nights
before even-numbered days when such edicts would be promulgated. There is
an anecdote concerning Su knowing his references without having to look
them up. And, Cheng I, the Neo-Confucian scholar, does not come across in
a very good light in this chapter.
There is a charming description of life in the capital, of the splendid
shops there, of the hospitable people, of Sus retention of his simple
nature, of his friendship and humour.
Chapter Twenty, The Art of Painting (pp. 274-285), introduces Chinese
painting and Su Tung-pos role in the important shihjen hua (scholar
painting). It mentions the stimulating impact of Sus associating with
other outstanding artists, including Mi Fei. There is reference to Li
Lungmiens celebrated Gathering of Scholars at the Western Garden. Four
of the books plates show a Ming copy of this 1087 work, and sections
thereof. Lin Yutang proceeds to the importance of movement in Chinese art
and calligraphy:
When a Chinese critic admires calligraphy, he does not admire it for
its static proportions or symmetry, but rather follows the artist
mentally in his movement from the beginning of a character to the end
and so on to the end of the page, as if he were watching a dance on
paper. p. 279
Chapter Twenty-one, The Art of Getting Out of Power (pp 286-300),
begins by mentioning Sus independence of party spirit in politics, the
vigor of his brother Tseyu as censor in seeking the removal not only of
remnants of Wang An-shihs faction, but also some others. When Su
Tung-po was attacked for his views on a balanced approach to
governmental control of the economy, he defended the essential nature of
freedom of expression. Opponents sought his removal and he replied by
trying to resign. The empress recognized his loyalty and value, and only
let him go after a few years. He went with a high rank to Hangchow in
Chekiang.
Chapter Twenty-two, Engineering and Famine Relief (pp. 301-316), shows
Su providing the people of Hangchow with a hospital, fresh water,
repaired buildings and a beautified West Lake. He also strove to get
action from the capital to avert famine. There is the incident of Su as
judge hearing the case of the fan seller unable to pay his debts and Su
painting on the fans to increase demand for them. The chapter closes with
Sus recall to the capital.
Chapter Twenty-three, Friend of the People (pp. 317-325), begins with
the common objective of Su and his political opponents that he live away
from the capital. He was sent to Fouyang and then Yangchow where he worked
hard for relief of the suffering. After enormous effort, he finally
succeeded in having the government forgive outstanding debts owed on the
taxes.
Chapter Twenty-four, Second Persecution (pp. 329-342), begins with the
death of Sus wife and the Empress Dowager. One interesting fact concerns
the burial of Sus wife:
Her coffin lay in a Buddhist temple in the western suburb of the
capital until ten years later, when Tseyu buried her remains in a
common tomb with her husband. p. 329
The regents death and the emperors assumption of actual rule impacted
severely on Su Tung-po. Su was first appointed military governor of West
Hopei where he significantly improved discipline. Chang Chun as premier
moved against the empresss men. While the emperor refused to allow the
desecration of Ssu-ma Kuangs corpse or the destruction of his monumental
history, the living were less fortunate.
In time, a special bureau was established to round up all supporters of
the Yuanyu regime so that no one could escape. The bureau was to file
and screen all official communications during the regency, between May
1085 and April 1094. Any scholar who had said anything for reversal of
the economic policies of Wang Anshih would be considered guilty of
libeling Emperor Shentsung. By such scrutiny they were able to round
up and punish eight hundred and thirty officials, and the carefully
classified files ran to a hundred and forty-two volumes. p. 341
Chapter Twenty-five, Home in Exile (pp. 343-358), begins with Su
Tung-po exile beyond the pass in Kwangtung. There is an account of the
effort to seize the boat on which he was travelling, of Sus prayer to the
Dragon King and the immediate rising of a favourable wind. Then comes Sus
enjoyment of the simple life and visitors, including Taoists, keeping him
in touch. His pleasures included making and sampling wine. Chang Chun sent
Sus brother-in-law, centre of an old family feud, to make trouble for Su,
but this merely ended the feud and added to Sus ability to benefit the
people of the area.
Chapter Twenty-six, Romance With Chaoyun (pp. 359-368), begins with
reference to Buddhist and Taoist interests and Sus poems to Chaoyun. It
mentions Sus renewed interest in the pill of immortality and Sus
reference to the similar search by Po Chu-yi. Theres his house on White
Stork Hill with its transplanted trees.
The Chinese way of removing a big tree was to cut one of its main roots
and the center root first, and cover the roots again with earth, thus
giving the tree time to readjust itself. In the second year the main
root on the opposite side would be cut and again covered up. In the
third year, after marking the directions of the four sides of the
trunk, the tree was removed, and at the time of transplanting, care was
taken that the tree faced the same way as it did in the original site.
p. 365
The chapter closes with the death of Chaoyun on July 5, 1095, her burial,
his poems to her, and the order for his exile to the island of Hainan.
Chapter Twenty-seven, Outside China (pp. 369-383), starts with the
continued oppession of the Yuanyu scholars and Sus uniqueness in being
sent to Hainan, largely inhabited by Loi. First he met with his brother.
The chapter tells of the pracise of sacrificing cows to obtain cures, of
Sus view that the Loi deserved justice, and force without fairness would
not work. Theres more on Sus enjoyment of the simple lifestyle, on his
knowledge of herbs, on his friendships, on his literary works, including
his commentaries on the I Ching and THE ANALECTS, as well as on THE BOOK
OF HISTORY -- this last completed now.
Chapter Twenty-eight, The End (pp. 384-395), begins with the death of
the emperor and the end of Sus exile. There was death on Sus return
journey, including of the old carefree Taoist Wu Fuku and six servants of
children in the party. In June 1101, Su came down with what Lin Yutang
feels may be amoebic dysentry. Several weeks later, on July 28, he died.
The book has a chronological summary, bibliographical notes in English,
bibliography in Chinese, a list in English and in Chinese of significant
personalities, an index, a map of China in Sus day, and about eight
plates, including a portrait of Su by Li Lungmien.
This sensitive portrayal of the life of so talented, courageous and
endearing a person is very highly recommended.
关于苏东坡赋英译本的钱序
《读书》一九九四年第二期柳叶先生介绍英译《苏东坡文选》的文章，谈到了钱钟书先生的书评、序和《谈艺录》中的有关记载；但又说没读到钱序，推测是为再版写的。对于柳先生淘旧书的福气，真是羡慕之至。苏东坡和钱钟书是笔者最喜欢的两位文学家，而这本书也是向往已久而又自知既不可求也无缘遇的，羡慕之余，便也来凑凑热闹。
十年前，偶读海外学人陈幼石所著《韩柳欧苏古文论》一书，见到书里引用了李高洁(陈误译为“克拉克”，Le Gros Clark是三字姓)《苏东坡的赋》的钱序(《The Pure-Poetry of Su Tung-po》，一九六三年纽约Panagon再版，Pure当为Prose之误)，被吊起胃口而又不能解馋，就冒昧写信向钱先生借阅。钱先生很快回函告知，李高洁英译苏赋于一九三五年由Kelly ＆ Wabsh出版，序言忆作于一九三四年；该书已遗失，“无存稿，也不想存稿”。后来到了厦门大学，郑朝宗先生授我一本陆文虎学长编的《钱钟书诗文辑》油印稿，其中有用英文写的《苏东坡的文学背景及其赋》，就是这篇序言，原文载于一九三四年六月出版的《学文月刊》一卷二期。从时间先后来看，柳先生的推测应该是大致不差的。
在古代作家中，苏轼应该是与钱钟书最具相同点的一个：深沉而能笑对人生，达观而不苟且敷衍；聪明绝顶，辩才无碍，幽默风趣，比喻繁富；钱先生在这篇序言中称赞苏轼“那不加节制的、漫不经心的天赋随意挥洒，咳唾成珠”，也是本地风光，完全适合他自己。所以，由钱评苏，无论对于苏轼研究者还是钱钟书研究者，想必都是一份值得重视的文献。因柳先生提起此序，我找出过去粗粗译成的草稿，对照原文又细读改译了一遍；键入电脑后仍手痒不止，乘兴向大家略作介绍。
在这篇五千字的序言里，钱先生从宋代的文学批评、道学、诗文风尚以及历代赋体四个方面把苏东坡跟他的文学背景作了比较，批评和道学尤为着重。钱先生首先勾勒了弥漫宋代的批评风气，但认为宋人尚奇甚于明辩，好奇心多于神秘感。所以在他们的智力活动中没有扫空一尽，没有大胆无忌，没有阔大的气魄，也没有确定的界限。在诗文评里，存在着过分集中地研究炼字锤句的倾向，这既是文学批评的兆端，同时也是结束。当然钱先生也肯定了宋人对文学批评的热心实践，他们用评论各别诗人的方式探讨文学原理，而诗话因此就作为中国式批评的载体得以确立起来。与此相比，在他的同时代人作为批评家的那种意义上，苏东坡并不是个批评家。在苏东坡的艺术哲学精华中，他直探问题的根本，从艺术作品转向艺术家的内心：按照他的看法，一个诗人应该身与物化，不能仅仅满足于文学的
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面色泽。这与那种“点铁成金”之类的“近视”相较，自然是不可同日而语。不过钱先生甚至断言苏东坡与时代精神无涉，这多少有点使人觉得太“过”一些。东坡爱发议论，诗文里论诗书画的不在少数；东坡好辩，敲进一层随手抹倒正其所擅；东坡也曾对陶诗对门人诗词炼过字锤过句；虽然他明显高出时人一筹，但毕竟与时人习气有其相似之处。
钱先生对道学的评价甚低，称之为形而上学、心理学、伦理学和诡辩术的杂拌儿；指出道学家们的冗长诡辩麻痹人心，虚耗元气；讽刺他们把道教或佛教打扮成正统儒教是虚伪的“哲学化妆”。他提示，中国的普通读者常常把宋人称为假道学；宋人的一本正经和心智道德上的琐细拘执，对于中国人惯常的任真气质来说是既可恼又可笑的。他认为道学对性理的条分缕析、碎碾细研是一种消蚀哲学也消蚀时代精神的病态自省，尽管他也承认他们对人类灵魂的解剖将会对文学心理学很有帮助。而苏东坡从根本上憎恶道学的精神上的卖弄，即良心和道德感的漫无边际的虚饰，反对道学集团的领袖人物程颐，同时也受到朱熹的怪罪责难。这也是钱先生断言苏东坡与时代精神无涉的主要根据。他还特别区分道学和苏东坡之间貌同心异的自然主义，认为前者仅仅是在教条上的；而后者却是个性上的，是精神的一部分，其文化来源则钱先生倾向于认为受道家和佛家的薰染。
在把苏诗和整个宋诗比较时，钱先生援引席勒的概念，把宋诗称为“刻露见心思之今诗”，以与唐诗之为“真朴出自然之古诗”相对应。他不无赞许地说，至今还是空灵缥渺、精致纤弱的中国诗歌，在宋代变得丰腴结实，而它承负的思想更使它增加了分量。他指出宋诗多刻露的思想和直露的宣说，少言外之意、幽掩之美；而最恼人的事情也许是宋代诗人的博学和惯于隐喻，使他们喜欢大量用典使事，即使在中国诗人中也显得堆垛不堪。在我看来，上述特点在苏诗中都明显存在。当然，苏诗又有超越宋诗的一面。钱先生说苏诗是宋诗中最“真朴出自然”的。用《谈艺录》中的观点推论，我们或
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以说，苏诗就是“唐诗”。这也许是为了强调苏诗的天成，清新，简洁，自然，充满即兴，行云流水，挥洒自如，亦即一般宋诗所缺乏的特点。
作为一部英译苏赋的序言，钱先生没有像我们所期望的那样就苏赋发表长篇大论。不过他对苏赋的评价显然非常之高。他称东坡是写赋的大家圣手，使赋变成了至今依然壮观的崭新文体；他特别赞许苏赋的革新意义：抛弃了旧赋家惯于向读者炫耀的靡丽繁艳，把庚信以来骈四俪六的僵硬的律赋改造成富于弹性的散赋。正是在这个意义上，钱先生称赞苏赋超过苏轼在其它艺术门类的贡献，是文学史上的一大奇迹。钱先生还特别指出，苏赋的节奏特慢，不同于其他诗文的疾速飞驰。比如，在《前赤壁赋》的开头问道：“何为其然也？”节奏的推进伴着审思细商，仿佛摩娑着每一个字眼。这一点似乎为评论家们所忽略，值得重视。
和钱先生的所有作品一样，本文也是妙语连珠，妙喻连篇。如说到宋诗变得丰腴结实，尽管与西洋诗相比仍显轻淡，“但是宋诗的轻淡，仿佛一架飞机划出的优雅曲线，而不再是一只飞蛾在柔美朦胧的暮霭中振翼轻翔了。”只是笔者的英文水平太过可怜，不敢多引。同样，上面译述钱先生的观点时，恐怕也有不少误解。若因拙文而引得有心人去寻读钱先生的原作，那可真叫“抛砖引玉”了。
王依民
《读书》1995年第3期
钱钟书：苏东坡的赋及其文学背景
SU TUNG-PO’S LITERARY BACKGROUND AND HIS PROSE-POETRY by Qian Zhongshu
(Primarily written as a foreword to “Su Tung-Po’s Prose-poems” translated into English With Notes and Commentaries by C. D. Le Gros Clark, this is published here by kind permission of Mr. Le Gros Clark. Those who are interested in textual criticism may consult Mr. Wu Shih-ch’ang’s review in Chinese which appeared in The Crescent Monthly, Vol. IV, No. 3. –Ed.)
Of the Sung dynasty, it may be said, as Hazlitt said of himself, that it is nothing if not critical. The Chinese people dropped something of their usual wise passiveness during the Sung dynasty, and “pondered, searched, probed, vexed, and criticized”. This intellectual activity, however, is not to be compared with that of the Pre-Chin period, the heyday of Chinese philosophy. The men of the Sung dynasty were inquisitive rather than speculative, filled more with a sense of curiosity than with a sense of mystery. Hence, there is no sweep, no daring, no roominess or margin in their intellectualism. A prosaic and stuffy thing theirs is, on the whole. This critical spirit revealed itself in many directions, particularly in the full flourish of literary criticism and the rise of the tao-hsüeh （道学）, that mélange adultere of metaphysics, psychology, ethics and casuistry.
Literary criticism in China is an unduly belated art. Apart from a handful of obiter dicta scattered here and there, Liu Hsieh’s Literary Mind （刘勰文心雕龙） and Lo Chi’s A Prose-poem on Literature （陆机文赋） are the critical writings that count up to the Sung dynasty. There is Chung Yung’s Classification of Poets (钟嵘诗品) of course. But Chung Yung is a literary genealogist rather than a critic, and his method of simply dividing poets into sheep and goats and dispensing praise or dispraise where he thought due, is the reverse of critical, let alone his fanciful attempts to trace literary parentages(1). Ssu-Kung Tu’s Characterisations of Poetry (司空图诗品) is a different matter(2). Ssu-Kung Tu seeks to convey purely with imagery the impressions registered by a sensitive mind of twenty four different kinds of poetry: “pure, ornate, grotesque,” etc. His is perhaps the earliest piece of “impressionistic” or “creative criticism” ever written if any language, so quietly ecstatic and so autonomous and self-sufficient, as it were, in its being but it fails on that very account to become sober and proper criticism. It is not until the Sung dynasty that criticism begins to be practiced in earnest. Numerous “causeries on poetry” （诗话）are written and principles of literature are canvassed by way of commentaries on individual poets. Henceforth, causeries on poetry become established as the vehicle for Chinese criticism. One must note in passing that there do not appear professional critics with the rise of criticism. In those good old days of China, criticism is always the prerogative of artists themselves. The division of labour between critics and artists in the West is something that the old Chinese literati would scoff at. The criticism of Sung dynasty, like all Chinese criticismsbefore the “New Literature Movement” with the possible exception of Hsieh’s Literary Mind, is apt to fasten upon particulars and be given too much to the study of best words in best places. But it is symptomatic of the critical spirit, and there is an end of it.
The Chinese common reader often regards the men of the Sung dynasty as prigs. Their high seriousness and intellectual and moral squeamishness are at once irritating and amusing to the ordinary easy-going Chinese temperament. There is something paralyzing and devitalizing in their wire-drawn casuistry which induces hostile critics to attribute the collapse of the Sung dynasty to its philosophers. There is also a disingenuousness in their attempts at what may be called for want of a better name, philosophical masquerade: to dress up Taoism of Buddhism as orthodox Confucianism. One need but look into Sketches in a Villa（阅微草堂笔记）and Causeries on Poetry in a Garden（随园诗话） to see what a good laugh these two coxcombs of letters, Chi Yuen （纪昀） and Yuan Mei （袁枚） have had at the expense of the Sung philosophers and critics respectively. Nevertheless ofe is compelled to admit that the Sung philosophers are unequalled in the study of mental chemistry. Never has human nature been subject to a more rigorous scrutiny before or since in the history of Chinese thought. For what strikes one most in the tao-hsüeh is the emphasis on self-knowledge. This constant preying upon itself of the mind is quite in the spirit of the age. The Sung philosophers are morbidly introspective, always feeling their moral pulses and floundering in their own streams of consciousness. To them, their mind verily “ a kingdom is”. They analyse and pulverize human nature. But for that moral bias which Nietzsche thinks to be also the bane of German philosophy, their vivisection of human soul would have contributed a good deal to what Santayna calls literary psychology.
The poetry of the sung dynasty is also a case in point. It is a critical commonplace that the Sung poetry furnishes a striking contract to the T’ang poetry. Chinese poetry, hitherto ethereal and delicate, seems in the Sung dynasty to take on flesh and becomes a solid, full-blooded thing. It is more weighted with the burden of thought. Of course, it still looks light and slight enough by the side of Western poetry. But the lightness of the Sung poetry is that of an aeroplane describing graceful curves, and no longer that of a moth fluttering in the mellow twilight. In the Sung poetry one finds very little of that suggestiveness, that charm of a beautiful thing imperfectly beheld, which foreigners think characteristic of Chinese poetry in general. Instead, one meets with a great deal of naked thinking and outright speaking. It may be called “sentimental” in contradistinction to the T’ang poetry which is on the whole “naïve”, to adopt Schiller’s useful antithesis. The Sung poets, however, make up for their loss in lisping naivete and lyric glow by a finesse in feeling and observation. In their descriptive poetry, they have the knack of taking the thing to be described sur le vif: witness Lo Yu (陆游) and Yang Wan-li （杨万里）. They have also a better perception of the nuances of emotion than the T’ang poets, as can be seen particularly in their Ts’u （词）, a species of song for which the Sung dynasty is justly famous(3). Small wonder that they are deliberate artists, considering the fact that they all have been critics in the off hours of their inspiration. The most annoying thing about them is perhaps their erudition and allusiveness which makes the enjoyment of them to a large extent the luxury of the initiated even among the Chinese.
The interest of Su Tung-po for us lies in the fact that he does not share the spirit of his age. He seems to be born out of his due time and is nonetheless an anachronism for being himself unaware of it. To begin with, he is not critical in the sense that his contemporaries are critical. In the excellent of Su’s philosophy of art, Mr. C. D. Le Gros Clark has shown that Su goes to the root of the matter he turns from the work of the art to the mind of the artist: A poet, according to Su should “merge himself” with reality, and not content himself with the mere polishing of literary surfaces(4). Compared to this conception of the ontological affinity between the artist and Nature, the most meticulous studies in diction and technique of Su’s contemporaries dwindle into mere fussiness of the near-sighted over details. Again, Su has a rooted antipathy against the spiritual pedantry of tao-hsüeh that “unseasonable ostentation” of conscience and moral sense. He speaks disparagingly of the high talk about human nature and reason, and the inefficiency of those who model themselves upon Confucius and Mencius(5). He is also opposed to Cheng Yi (程颐), the leader the tao-hsüeh party in politics with a virulence almost incompatible with his otherwise genial and tolerant character(6). He is probably still in purgatory for these offences. Chü Hsi (朱熹) has condemned him several times in his writings(7) —— and, in a way, to be dispraised of Chü His is no small praise! Finally, as poet, he is comparatively the most “naïve” among his “sentimental” contemporaries. Though on “native wood notes wild”, his poetry smells more of the perfume of books, as the Chinese phrase goes, than of the lamp oil. His stylistic feats seem rather lucky accidents than the results of sweating toil. He is much more spontaneous and simple in the mode of feeling than (say) Huang T’ing-chien (黄庭坚), who and Su are the twin giants in the Sung poetry. Ling Ai-hsüan （林爱轩） has put the contrast between Su and Huang in a nutshell comparable to Johnson’s epigram on the difference between Dryden and Pope. “Su’s poetry is manly and walks in big strides while Huang’s is woman-like and walks in mincing steps”(8). Has not Su himself also said that simplicity and primitiveness should be the criteria of good art(9)?
Su’s strains are as profuse as his art is unpremeditated. He throws out his good things to the winds with the prodigality and careless opulence of Nature. Here’s God’s plenty indeed! He says of his own style: “My style is like a spring of inexhaustible water which bubbles and over-flows where it lists, no matter where. Running its course through the plains, it may glide along at the speed of a thousand li a day. When it threads its way through cliffs and mountains, one never knows beforehand what size it would assume to conform with these obstacles —— It flows where it must flow and stops where it must stop”(10). Elsewhere he repeats almost verbatim what he says here with the additional metaphor that our style should be like the floating cloud (11). It is significant that this simile of water with its association of fluidity and spontaneity recurs with slight variations in all criticisms of Su. To quote a few examples from his contemporaries will suffice: his brother Tsu-yu (子由) likens his style to a mountain stream young after rain(12); Huang Ting-chien, to the sea, tractless and boundless into which all rivers empty(13); Li Chi-ch’ing (李耆卿), to an impetuous flood（14）; Hsü Kai （许顗）（如舸斋案，钱先生读白字了！） to a big river(15). Thus the abiding impression of Su’s art is one of “spontaneous overflow”. Ch’ien Ch’ien-i （钱谦益） varies the metaphor by comparing Su’s style to quicksilver and draws the conclusion that the Taoist and Buddhist Naturalism must have been the formative influence in Su’s life and art(16) —— a conclusion Mr Le Gros Clark arrives at independently four centuries later.
It is strange that this Naturalism which exercises a liberating influence upon Su should also form an important element in the harrowing, cut-and-dry Sung philosophy or t’ao-hsüeh. One is tempted to think that where the Sung philosophers are only naturalistic in “creed”, Su is naturalistic in “character”, Su is a spirit apart indeed!
Famed in all great arts, Su is supreme in prose-poetry or Fu （赋）(17). In other species of writing, he only develops along the lines laid down by his immediate predecessors; but his prose-poetry is one of those surprises in the history of literature. Here is an art rediscovered that has been lost for several centuries. The whole T’ang dynasty is a blank as far as prose-poetry is concerned (18). The famous prose-poems by Han Yu （韩愈） and Liu Tsung-yuan （柳宗元） are all stiff-jointed imitative and second-rate. Ou-yang Hsiu （欧阳修） first shows the way by his magnificent Autumn Dirge (19), and Su does the rest. In Su’s hands,the Fu becomes a new thing he brings ease into what has hitherto been stately; he changes the measured, even-paced tread suggestive of the military drill into a swinging gait, even now and then a gallop; and he dispenses altogether that elaborate pageantry which old writers of fu are so fond of unrolling before the reader (20). He is by far the greatest fu-writer since Yü Sin （庾信）. While Yü Sin shows how supple he can be in spite of the cramping antithetical style of the Fu, Su succeeds in softening and thawing this rigid style, smoothing over its angularity and making the sharp points of the riming antitheses melt into one another. T’ang Tsu-his （唐子西） does not exaggerate when he says that in Fu Su “beats all the ancients”(21). The fag-end of a foreword is not the place for a detailed discussion of the literary qualities of Su’s Fu’s. Su’ usual freakishness, buoyancy, humour, abundance of metaphor are all there. But critics, while noting all these, have overlooked that which distinguishes his Fu’s from his other writings —— the difference in tempo. Su’s normal style is “eminently rapid”, as Arnold says of Homer, in his prose-poems, however, he often slackens down almost to the point of languidness as if he were caressing every word he speake. Take for instance the section in Red Cliff Part I beginning with Su’s question “Why is it so?” it moves with the deliberate slowness and ease of a slow-motion picture. What is said above does not apply, of course, to such sorry stuff as Modern Music in the Yen-ho Palace, On the Restoration of the Examination System, etc., which Mr Le Gros Clark has also translated for the sake of having Su’s prose-poems complete in English. They are written in the style empesé, being rhetorical exercises borrowed from “ambulant political experts”, as Mr Waley points out.
There is, therefore, no better proof of Mr Le Gros Clark’s deep knowledge of Chinese literature than his choice of Su’s Fu’s for translation. Throughout the whole translation he shows the scruples of a true scholar and the imaginative sympathy possible only to a genuine lover of Su. His notes and commentaries are particularly valuable, and so much more copious and learned than Lang Yi (郎晔)s that even Chinese students will profit by them in reading Su’s prose-poems in the original. If the English reader still can not exchange smiles and salutes with Su across the great gulf of time so familiarly as the Chinese does, it is perhaps due to a difficulty inherent in the very nature of translation. It is certainly no fault of Su’s accomplished translator.
(1) See 叶梦得：石林诗话。王士祯：渔洋诗话 and 古夫于亭杂录， especially 陈衍：诗品评议。
(2) For a version of rather perversion of Characterizations, see Giles: A History of Chinese Literature. BK. V. Chap. 1.
(3) Mr Arthur Waley, however, thinks differently. (see 170 Chinese Poems. P. 31) In the same breath Mr Waley dismisses Su Tung-po’s poetry as “patchwork” and declares that “Su hardly wrote a poem which does not contain a phrase borrowed from Po Chu-i”. Whether or no this charge can be substantiated, a cursory glance into 冯应: Variorum Edition of Su Tung-po’s Poetical Work will show. But we must bear in mind that commentators are apt to give poets the credit of a memory as tenacious as their own. For the best account of the difference between Su Tung-po and Po Chu-i, see 罗大经：鹤林玉露。 Mr Waley say further that Su’s verse is valued by his countrymen chiefly for its musical qualities. On this point, Mr Waley is misled perhaps by some of Su’s “countrymen” who are not poetry-lovers.
(4) To Mr Gros Clark’s quotations from Su’s own writings illustrative of this philosophy of art, we may supplement quotations from poems like 书晁补之所藏与可画竹，吴子野将出家赠以扇山枕屏，次韵吴传正枯木歌筼筜欲绝句 etc.
(5) See答刘巨济书.
(6) For a succinct account of this party strife, see 宋史纪事本末卷四十五.
(7) Cf 朱子大全答程允夫书，答汪尚书书，答吕东莱书。
(8) Quoted in 王士祯：池北偶谈 and 袁枚：随园诗话。 Here is given only a loose translation.
(9) 书鄢陵王主簿所画折枝。 Quoted also in Mr Gros Clark’s Introduction.
(10) 东坡密语子瞻自论文。 Quoted in part by Mr Le Gros Clark in his Introduction.
(11) 答谢民诗书。
(12) 栾城集东坡先生墓志。
(13) 山谷诗集子瞻诗句妙一世乃云效庭坚体故次韵道之。
(14) 文章精义。
(15) 彦周诗话。
(16) 初学集读苏长公文，cf, 渔洋精华录读唐宋金元明诗各题一绝。
(17) See the section on “The Nature of the fu” in Mr Le Gros Clark’s Introduction.
(18) Cf. 包世臣：艺舟双楫答董普卿书 and 周星誉：鸥堂日记李蓴客语。
(19) See Giles: Gems of Chinese Literature p. 164, and Waley: More Traslations p. 105.
(20) Cf. 艾南英：天佣子集王子巩观生草序，章学诚文史通义文理篇 and 书坊刻诗话后。
(21) 强幼安：唐子西文录。
编者谨案：本文署名Chi’en Chung-shu，载《学文月刊》一卷二期（1934.6.1）第130至144页。
如舸斋案：录自陆文虎编《钱钟书诗文辑》（一），厦门大学中文系1982年9月油印本。个别单词与油印本不同，系录入者以意校之。
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未曾根据《学文月刊》校对。凡欲在正式学术论著中引用者，切勿以此为据。
钱钟书：中国戏曲中的悲剧（英文）
TRAGEDY IN OLD CHINESE DRAMA
In writing the present article, the writer has profited by discussions with his former teacher Professor Y.N. Wen and his friend Dr. W. F. Wang.
The critical pendulum has once more swung back and there are signs that our old literature is coming into favour again. Knowing persons have also told us that there is just at present even a craze for our old literature among foreigners and that our old drama especially has all the cry in the West. We are quite proud to hear of these things. That our old drama should lead the way of the craze need not surprise us; for, though the real power of drama, as Aristotle says in his Poetics, should be felt apart from representation and action, drama can for that very reason appeal to the majority of persons whose interest does not rise above mere representation and spectacle. Moreover, our old drama richly deserves the epithet “artificial” which Lamb applies to the comedy of manners. To Western readers surfeited with drab realism and tiresome problem plays our old drama comes as “that breathing place from the burthen of a perpetual moral questioning” which must be as refreshing as (say) Barrie’s pleasant fancy and pathos after an overdose of Pinero and Jones. But whatever value our old dramas may have as stage performances or as poetry, they cannor as dramas hold their own with great Western dramas. In spite of the highest respect for the old dramatists, one cannot sometimes help echoing Coleridge’s wish as regards Beaumont and Fletcher that instead of dramas, they should have written poetry in the broad sense inclusive of tzu(词) and ch’u(曲) as well. I say this without the least prejudice, because I yield to none in my enthusiasm for our old literature and would definitely range myself on the side of the angels and the ancients, should a quarrel between the Ancients and the Moderns break out in China.
The highest dramatic art is of course tragedy and it is precisely in tragedy that our old playwrights have to a man failed. Apart from comedies and farces, the rank and file of our serious drama belong to what is property called the romantic drama. The play does not present a single master-passion, but a series of passions loosely strung together. Poetic justice is always rendered, and pathetic and humorous scenes alternate as regularly as the layers of red and white in a side of streaky bacon, to borrow a homely simile from Oliver Twist. Of the tragic sense, the sense of pathos touched by the sublime, the sense of “Zwey Seelen wohene, achl in meiner Brust, the knowledge of universal evil as the result of partial good, there is very little trace. True, there are numerous old plays which end on the note of sadness. But a sensitive reader can very easily feel their difference from real tragedies: he goes away from them not with the calm born of spent passions or what Spinoza calls acquiescentia with the workings of an immanent destiny, but, on the contrary, haunted by the pang of a personal loss, acute, disconsolate, to be hidden away even form oneself. One has only to compare Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra and Dryden’s All for Love with Pei Jen-fu’s Rain in the Oil Trees(白仁甫梧桐雨) and Hung Shen’s The Palace of Everlasting Life( 洪升长生殿) in order to perceive the difference. The story of Emperor Yuan Tsung of the T’ang dynasty and his ladylove Yand Kuei-fei is presented in both Chinese plays just as that of Antony and Cleopatra is presented in both English plays. And both are stories of “the world well lost” for love. The parallel between the two Chinese plays and Antony and Cleopatra is particularly close, because they all throw the unities of time and place by the board; and in the first half of all of them, tragic scenes and events are entirely absent. They all begin idyllically, but how differently they end! In reading the two Chinese plays, we are not lifted beyond personal sympathy to a higher plane of experience. The piercing lyricism of Rain in the Oil Trees and the sensuous and emotional luxury of The Palace of Everlasting Life are fine things in themselves, but they are not to be confused with tragic power. Instead of a sense of reconciliation and fruition, they leave us at the end weakened by vicarious suffering, with a tiny ache in the heart, crying for some solace or support and a scheme of things nearer to the heart’s desire. This is surely worlds away from the full tragic experience which, as Mr. I. A. Richards describes so finely in Principles of Literary Criticism, “stands uncomforted, unintimidated, alone and self-reliant.” Now, on kind of experience may be as precious as another, but one kind of experience cannot possess the same feeling as another.
These Chinese plays leave the reader yearning for a better scheme of things instead of that feeling of having come to the bitter end of everything. This impression is heightened by the structure of the plays. The curtain does not fall on the main tragic event, but on the aftermath of that event. The tragic moment with passion at its highest and pain at its deepest seems to ebb out in a long falling close. This gives the peculiar effect of lengthening-out as of a trill or a sigh. It is significant that in Rain in the Oil Trees Yang Kuei-fei dies in the third act, leaving a whole act to the Emperor to whine and pine and eat away in impotent grief the remains of his broken heart, and that in The Palace of Everlasting Life, the bereavement occours in the twentyfifth scene only to prepare us for the happy re-union (more or less after the fashion of Protesilaus and Laodamia in Wordsworth’s poem) in the fiftieth scene. What is more important still, one is unable to rise beyond a merely personal sympathy with the tragic characters because they are not great enough to keep us at a sufficient psychical distance from them. The Tragic flaw (αυρτια) is there, but it is not thrown into sharp relief with any weight of personality or strength of character. The Emperor, for example, appears in the plays as essentially a weak, ineffectual and almost selfish sensualist who drifts along the line of least resistance. He has no sense of inward conflict. he loses the world by loving Yang Kuei-fei and then gives her up in the attempt to win back the world. He has not character enough to be torn taut between two worlds; he has not even sense enough to make the best of both worlds. In Pei Jen-fu’s play he seems a coward and a cad. Pressed by rebels for Yang Kuei-fei’s life, he says to her: “I cannot help it. Even my own life is at stake.” When Yang Kuei-fei implores him, he replies:“What can I do!” When finally Yang Kuei-fei is led away by the rebels, he says to her:“Don’t blame me, my dear.” We have no love for rant and fustian, but these speeches are understatements with a vengeance. They stand self-convicted; any comment on them is superfiuous. In Hung Shen’s play, the Emperor indeed puts on a bolder front. Yang Kuei-fei meets her death bravely, but the Emperor will not let her, and talks of the world well lost for love. After a little hedging, however; he delivers her over to the rebels with these parting words:“Since you have made up your mind to die, how can I prevent you?” To do justice to Emperor. these words are spoken very feelingly with tears and much stamping of foot. But compare them with Antony’s speech in shakespeare’s play:
“Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch
Of the ranged empir fall! Here is my space.”
or ever with Antony’s more plain words in Dryden’s Play:
“Take all, the world is not worth my care!”
Indeed, it is almost a critical gaffe to compare things so radically different. To cling bloodthirstily to life in face of calamity and then to luxuriate in grief is anything but tragic. I know very well that as a matter of historical fact, the Emperor did not die as Antony did. But my point is that while there is tragic quintessence enough and to spare in this situation even without the Emperors death, our old dramatists in handling the situation have not produced plays which give us the full tragic experience.
Hence I beg to differ — with great diffidence, to be sure — from such an authority on old Chinese drama as the late Wang Kuo-wei (王国维). In A History of The Dramas of the Sung and Yuan Dynasties (宋元戏曲史), Wang Kuo-wei says:“Dramas written since the Ming dynasty are all comedies. But some of the Yuan dramas are tragic. In plays like The Han Palace in Autumn(汉宫秋)，Rain in the Oil Trees, etc., there is neither recognition nor happy reversal of fortune. The most tragic of all are Kuan Han-ching’s The Gross Injustice to Maid Tou (关汉卿窦娥冤) and Chi Chün-hsiang’s Chao’s Orphan (纪君祥赵氏孤儿).
In these two plays, although the calamity comes through the machinations of the villains, yet the tragic heroes assert their will-power to the full in precipitating the calamity and facing it without wince. Thus, they are quite worthy of the company of the greatest tragedies of the world.” These bold words are quoted from the twelfth chapter on “The Yuan Drama considered as Literature”(元曲之文章).
We have already discussed Rain in the Oil Trees. As Augustine Birrell wittily puts it:“The strength of a rope may be but the strength of its weakest part, but poets are to be judged in their happiest hours”; so we shall examine the two plays which Wang Kuo-wei has singled our as “the most tragic”. If we may multiply distinctions, we can see no less than three claims made by Wang Kno-wei for the two plays in question. First, they are great literary masterpieces, to which we may heartily agree. Second, they are great tragedies because the hero’s assertion of will issues in calamity, about which we have some reserves to make. Third, they are great tragedies in the sense that, let us say, Oedipus and Othello and Berenice are great tragedies, with which we beg leave to differ. Indeed, Wang Kuo-wei’s whole conception of the tragic as springing from the assertion of will seems definitely Corneillian; and the tragic conflict as conceived by him is even less inward than that as conceived by Corneille who, however perfunctorily, does sometimes touch upon the rudes combats between propre honneur and amour as in the case of Rodrigue in Le Cid. The proof of the pudding lies in the eating: let us examine the two plays briefly in turn.
We shall take The Gross Injustice to Maid Tou first. Tou Tien-chang, a poverty-stricken scholar, leaves for the capital to participate in the competitive examination and hands over his daughter Tou Tuan-yün to a widow to pay for some old debt. After eight years Tou Tuan-yün marries the widow’s son who dies of consumption two years later. The villain Chang Lü-er takes a fancy to her, but she adheres to the traditional moral code of constancy to one man and will have nothing to do with him. Finally Chang poisons his own father and accuses her of the murder. Then comes the blood-curdling law-court scene in which she claims he whole guilt to herself in order to avert the suspicion from her mother-in-law. She is sentenced to death. On the scaffold, she invokes Heaven to have pity on her and visit a drought of three years upon the people. This takes place in Act Ⅲ. In Act Ⅳ, Tou Tien-chang who has been away for a long time, and who now becomes the Lord Chief Justice, ferrets out the case and revenges for his daughter’s death. This is a rough summary of the main incidents of the play. The characteristic poetic justice in the last act is very soothing to our outraged feelings, but the pertinent question is: does it heighten the tragic event? Even if we waive the question for a moment and leave the fourth act our of account, can we say of the three proceding acts that they give us a total impression of tragedy “unintimidated, uncomforted, self-reliant and alone”? One looks into one’s own heart and answers no. One feels that Tou Tuan-yün’s character is so noble and flawless, her death so pathetic, and the wrong done to her so outrageous that the fourth act is imperatively called for to adjust the balance. In other words, the playwright has so presented the situation that the play is bound to end in poetic justice and fault of her own nor by any decree of Fate. If there is any tragic flaw in her character, the playwright has turned the blind-spot to it and evidently wishes us to do the same. The playwright’s own sympathy is certainly with her, our moral judgment is with her. and even Divinity or Fate, is with her — test the drought and the fall of snow. Why then — in the name of all gods and wanton boys who kill for sport — not a little poetic justice? Again, the tragic conflict as presented in the play is a purely outward one. Her mind is all of a piece: there is a pre-established harmony between her constancy to the dead husband and her repugnance to the new suitor. She opposes the villain and meets the challenge with an undivided soul. The assertion of one’s will in such a case is comparatively an easy matter, The co conflict, however, may be made internal by showing Tou Tuan-yün’s love of her own life warring with the wish to save her mother-in-law’s life. Significantly enough, the dramatist fails to grasp this.
Our criticisms of The Gross Injustice to Maid Tou apply more or less to Chao’s Orphan too. The hero of this play is CH’eng Ying, the family physician of Chao, who sacrifices his own child to save the life of the orphan and finally instigates the orphan to take vengeance on the villain. The play closes with ample poetic justice and universal jubilee: the villain is cruelly done to death, the orphan recovers his lost property, and Ch’eng Ying receives rewards for his sacrifice. Here the tragic conflict is more intense and more internal. Ch’eng Ying’s self-division between love for his own boy and the painful duty of sacrifices is powerfully presented. * But unfortunately, the competing forces, love and duty, are not of equal strength and there is apparently no difficulty for the one to conquer the other. Ch’eng Ying obviously thinks (and the dramatist invites us to think with him) that it is more righteous to fulfil the duty of sacrifice than to indulage in paternal love — “a little more and how much it is!” The combats here are not rudes at all. The taut tragic opposition is snapped and the scale tips towards one side. This is shown most clearly in the case of Kun-sun Ch’u-chiu who in sacrificing his own life to protect the orphan, shows not the slightest hesitation in choosing between love and duty. This play which gives high promise to be a tragedy “worthy of the company of the greatest tragedies in the world” ends in material fruition rather than spiritual waste. I hasten to add that I make these criticisms without in the least denying that Chao’s Orphan is a very moving play and shows even greater promise of tragic power than The Gross Injustice to Maid Tou.
There are, according to Dr. L. A. Reid (to whose lucid discussion of tragedy in A Study of Aesthetic I am much indebted), two main types of tragedy. In the first, the interest tends to be centered on character. In the second, Fate itself draws the attention. Shakespearean tragedies belong to the first type, while Greek tragedies only by courtesy tend towards the Shakespearean type, while Greek tragedies to the second. Our old dramas which can be called tragedies only by courtesy tend towards the Shakespearean type. Like Shakespearean tragedies, they dispense with the unities and emphasize characters and their responses to evil circumstances. But they are not tragedies because, as we have seen, the playwrights have but an inadequate conception of the tragic flaw and conflict. In a note on“Chinese primitivism” in Rousseau and Romanticism, the labe Irving Babbitt ascribes our lack of tragedy to the absence of “ethical seriousness” among our people. The phrase is ambiguous and a little explanation would be welcome. Perhaps Babbitt means by it that “artificiality” which we refer to in the beginning of this article. If our own analysis above is true at all, then the defect seems to arise from our peculiar arrangement of virtues in a hierarchy. Every moral value is assigned its proper place on the scale, and all substances and claims are arranged according to a strict “order of merit.” Hence the conflict between two incompatible ethical substances loses much of its sharpness, because as one of them is of higher moral value than the other, the one of lower value fights all along a losing battle. Thus we see a linear personality and not a parallel one. The neglect of the lower ethical substance is amply compensated by the fulfilment of the higher one so that it is not “tragic excess” at all — witness Mencius epigram on the conduct of the “great man”(大人) in Lilou(离娄) and Liu Sung-yuan’s superfine essay On Four Cardinal Virtues(柳宗元四维论). This view is certainly borne out by our old dramas.
We are supposed to be a fatalistic people. It is therefore curious that Fate is so little used as a tragic motif by old dramatists. But tragic Fate has at bottom nothing to do with fatalism. Fatalism is essentially a defeatist, passive, acceptant attitude which results in lethargy and inaction whereas tragic irony consists in the very fact that in face of mockeries of Fate at every endeavour, man continues to strive. Moreover, what we ordinarily mean by Fate is something utterly different from Fate as revealed in Greek tragedies. Professor Whitehead points out in Science and the Modern World: “The pilgrim fathers of the scientific imagination as it exists today, are the great tragedians of ancient Athens — Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides. Their vision of fate, remorseless and indifferent, urging a tragic incident to its inevitable issue, is the vision possessed by science.… The laws of physics are the decrees of fate.” Now, our idea of Fate has not such scientific vigour and is really poetic justice which Dr. A. C. Bradley in Shakespearean Tragedy asks us to distinguish sharply from tragic injustice — that prosperity and adversity are distributed in proportion to the merits of the agents. In other words, our conception of Fate is the equivalence of action and award rather than that of cause and effect. It is not the ethically neutral idea that the doer must suffer, but the sentimental belief that virtue is its own reward with additional rewards to be forthcoming. It is not merely a case of “as you sow, so you reap”; it is the case of “as you sow in joy, you cannot reap in tears.” Thus, whereas the effect cannot be in disproportion to the cause, the award may quite conceivably be disproportionate to the action. We usually explain away this disproportion by the theory of metempsychosis we either have owed scores in a previous life or will receive compensations in a future one. This idea and the Greek idea stand at opposite poles. Again. Fate as we usually conceive of it is menschliches, all zumenschliches as Nietzsche says in another connection. Its irony is not awful, but petty, malign and “coquettish” as Hardy says of Providence — witness the interesting play The Monument of Tsien Fu Monastery(荐福碑) by Ma Chib-yuan(马致远). Mr. E. M. Forster’s criticism of Hardy in Aspects of the Novel holds good also with this play.
We have so far accounted for the absence of tragedy in old Chinese literature by reasons suggested by the dramas themselves. Of course we can explain the absence by racial and cultural reasons. We can make it a jumping-off place to plunge into some interesting sociological and anthropological guess-work. We can even take the hint from Whitehead and explain the backwardness of our science by the absence of tragedy. But these things I must leave to more competent persons. After all, we can only do one thing at a time. Our comparative study of Chinese and Western dramas is helpful for two reasons. First, it dispels many illusions cherished even by Chinese critics about our own drama. Second, it helps students of comparative literature to assign old Chinese drama to its proper place in the Palace of Art. It has been my conviction that if students of comparative literature can include old Chinese literature in their purview, they will find many new data which may lead to important modifications of those dogmata critica formulated by Western critics. For students of the history of old Chinese criticism, such a comparative study of actual literatures is especially important, because only by means of it can they understand how the data of our old critics differ from those of Western critics, and why those first principles of Western criticism are not seized upon by our own critics and vice versa. This has ever been my aim in various studies of our old literature. To have our fill of some aesthetic experiences, we must go to foreign literatures; to have our fill of others, to our own. Asceticism in the study of literature is bad enough, but patriotism which refuses to acknowledge “good things” coming “out of Nazareth” is even worse.
*DR. W. F. Wang reminds me of the similarity of situation between this play and the story of Abraham and Isaac.
编者谨案：本文署名 Ch’ien Chung-shu (钱钟书)，载T’ien Hsia Monthly 一卷一期第三七至四六页。
如舸斋案：录自陆文虎编《钱钟书诗文辑》（一），厦门大学中文系1982年9月油印本。个别单词与油印本不同，系录入者以意校之。全文未曾根据《天下月刊》校对。凡欲在正式学术论著中引用者，切勿以此为据。
钱钟书对中国古代悲剧戏曲的研究
陆文虎
钱钟书先生曾用英文发表过许多论文，《中国古代戏曲中的悲剧》①是其中的一篇。本篇在比较中西戏剧的异同后，对有关中国古代戏曲的一些问题提出了中肯的看法。兹略述该文要点，以期引起中国古代戏曲研究者的注意。
一
钱钟书先生在这篇论文的开头指出：“批评的钟摆已经再次向回摆，有迹象表明中国古代文学正在重新受到世人的青睐。”关于中西文学的交通，特别是中国戏剧在更早时期对西方的影响，《管锥编》曾两次提及元曲《赵氏孤儿》，大意说，此剧经十八世纪法国神甫约瑟夫•普雷马雷和路易士•拉罗译为法文，“盛传欧洲”，“仿作纷如”。例如，莫泊桑曾本之谋篇而更进一解②。这大概就是批评的钟摆第一次摆到中国古典文学一边时的热闹情形吧。至于这一次中国戏曲如何在西方吃香，钱先生没有细述，只是点到为止。
据我们了解，在本世纪初叶，中国传统戏曲确实又在西方出了一次风头。1910年，路易士拉罗在法国演出了《汉宫怨》。1930年，梅兰芳率团访美，1935年访苏，受到美、苏及世界各国的广泛欢迎。1932年，程砚秋赴苏、德、法等欧洲国家考察，发现“中国戏剧有许多固有的优点，（连）欧洲人尚且要学我们的。”他的这些说法不久就得到了证明。德国戏剧家布莱希特1935年看了莱因哈特演出的《灰阑记》，受到触动；1935年在莫斯科看梅兰芳演出后，更是大受启发，并据以提出“隔离感”说；他的《高加索灰阑记》就是全面借鉴中国戏曲的产物。后来的法国著名荒诞戏剧家让•热内的作品则是世界公认的中国戏曲影响当代西方戏剧的突出例证。
造成这种情况的原因，也许就在于中国传统戏曲所特具的完全有异于西方的戏剧观念。西方戏剧经过长期的发展，形成了强大的传统。16世纪以后，日趋写实，即使是取材于古希腊、古罗马神话或历史的悲剧，也很注意情节和人物的真实感；喜剧以讽刺为职志，更是特别注意从生活中汲取素材。18世纪的风俗剧，多以表现当时的人情世态为题材。19世纪的演出更具有写实风格。20世纪初叶，现代派起而反动；兼以当时电影刚刚发明，亦大有取戏剧而代之的趋势。西方戏剧界急于找到新的出路。于是他们发现，古老的中国戏曲在程式化的表演中所体现出来的“人工化”，竟然极为符合西方戏剧界的“现代意识”。对于那些对中国文化不甚了了的一般观众来说，中国戏曲表演上的新奇样式、内容上的不可思议，也都具有特殊的意味和魅力。诚如钱先生所指出的：“对于耽于单调的现实主义和烦人的问题剧的西方读者来说，就像看多了平内罗和琼斯的感伤再看巴利的愉快幻想一样，中国传统戏曲能够令人耳目一新。”
尽管如此，钱先生仍然对中国古代戏曲评价不高。他说：“无论我国古代戏曲作为舞台表演或作为诗有什么价值，但作为戏剧而言，它们都不能同西方的戏剧名作相媲美。不管对古代剧作家怀有多大的敬意，我们有时不得不重复枯立治在评论博蒙特和弗莱泽时所表示的愿望：他们不应当写戏剧，而应当去写诗。”我以为，钱先生所以这样讲，乃是由于他不仅熟知中国古代戏曲的特点与优长，而且十分了然其弱点与缺失。
二
钱先生认为，“戏剧的最高形式当然是悲剧。”所谓悲剧，乃是西方戏剧理论中的一个重要概念。关于“悲剧”的定义，众说纷纭，以亚里斯多德的说法最为传诵。亚氏说：悲剧是对于一个严肃、完整、有一定长度的行动的摹仿；它的媒介是语言，具有各种悦耳之音，分别在剧的各部分使用；借引起怜悯与恐惧来使这种情感得到陶冶。” ③ 我们知道，悲剧有着悠久的历史和传统，早在古希腊就已产生。酷爱艺术的希腊人十分崇拜日神和酒神，所以，古希腊的日神艺术——史诗、雕塑、绘画和酒神艺术——音乐、舞蹈，同样发达。在这两种艺术迅速发展的同时，作为西方思想渊源的希腊哲学也达到了相当高的水准。希腊文化的发展达到极致时，悲剧便应运而生了。古希腊悲剧的最初形态不过是人体羊首神的乐舞合唱，一种希腊人借以张扬理性、鼓动激情、激发社会发展动力的艺术。虽然悲剧精神后来有种种发展，但它在总能给人以前进的力量上是共同的。显然，悲剧精神同东方思想是格格不入的。因此，中国古代戏曲中没有这种意义上的悲剧，也就既合乎情又顺乎理了。尽管中国古代戏曲中没有真正意义上的悲剧，假使我们用西方悲剧理论观照一下我国古代戏曲中那些类似悲剧的剧目，也还是大有益处的。钱钟书先生在55年前已经这样做了。我们且看他是怎样分析的。
钱钟书先生认为，虽然“中国古代剧作家正是在悲剧中写人物的失败的”，但由于“我们那些重要剧目都属于传奇剧一类”，因此，第一，“剧中表现的不是单一的总的激情，而是一系列松散串连的激情。”第二，“诗的正义总被表现出来。”第三，“悲哀和幽默的场景犹如五花肉上的红白相间的颜色一样交替出现。”这就是中国古代戏曲中那些类似于悲剧而并非是悲剧的剧目区别于西方悲剧的三条主要特征。
由于这些区别，读者或观众从中得到的是同悲剧审美经验迥然相异的感受。为了说明这一点，钱先生把莎士比亚的《安东尼和克娄巴特拉》、德莱登的《一切为了爱》同白朴的《梧桐雨》、洪升的《长生殿》进行比较。他发现，“两出中国戏曲所表现的唐玄宗、杨贵妃故事，就像是两出英国戏剧所表现的安东尼、克娄巴特拉的故事。并且两个故事都是由爱而导致‘穷途末路’。两出中国戏曲同《安东尼和克娄巴特拉》有特别相似之处，因为它们都放弃了舞台上时间、地点的一致性；并且所有这些戏的前半场，完全没有悲剧场面和悲剧事件；它们都如田园诗那样开场，而结局竟如此不同！”
《梧桐雨》和《长生殿》都是佳作，我们读之也自然回肠荡气，为其激动、感动。然而，这些感受都是远离悲剧审美经验的。读者或观众的感受仅限于对主人公遭遇的同情，对事物的美好主题的向往，而没有被提高到一个较高的层次。也就是说，没有如亚里斯多德所说的，“借引起怜悯与恐惧来使这种情感得到陶冶”。钱先生指出，除了戏剧内容之外，戏剧结构更加深了这种印象：“大幕不在主要悲剧事件上落下，而落在悲剧事件所产生的后果上。悲惨时刻所产生的最高热情和最深痛苦，似乎在缓缓的落幕当中退去。”剧中的悲惨场景仅仅成为某种平和场面的铺垫，本应加强的悲剧力量竟然丧失殆尽。另外，读者和观众也“无法从对悲剧人物的可怜的个人同情中升华。因为这些人物并未伟大到使我们与之保持相当的精神感应距离。”令人感到十分遗憾的是，“悲剧性缺陷存在着，它并不刻意于与任何个性影响或人物力量产生鲜明对比。”由于剧作者创作观念的局限，这两出戏剧所应强调的悲剧特征被忽略了。钱先生指出，“我很清楚，按照历史事实，唐玄宗并没有如安东尼一样死去。但我的看法是，即使他不死，也有许多悲剧因素，而剧作家们却未能据以创作出能够给我们以充分悲剧经验的剧作。”剧作家生活在与西方完全不同的物质环境和精神文化背景之中，其宇宙观与人生观决定他除了表现善恶之争以及与这相应的轮回果报之外，不可能去强调和突出悲剧特征。在这一点上，我们正不必苛求于古人。
三
西方的悲剧理论只是在海通以后才有可能进入中国。王国维是近代最早引进西方悲剧理论来评论中国古代戏曲的学者。他在《宋元戏曲史》中说：“明以后传奇，无非喜剧；而元则有悲剧在其中。就其存者言之，如《汉宫秋》、《梧桐雨》……等，初无所谓先离后合、始困终亨之事也。其最有悲剧之性质者，则如关汉卿之《窦娥冤》、纪君祥之《赵氏孤儿》。剧中虽有恶人交构其间，而其蹈汤赴火者仍出于其主人翁之意志。即列之于世界悲剧中，亦无愧色也。”对于这段话，钱先生明确表示“不赞成”。他说：“王国维为《窦娥冤》、《赵氏孤儿》提出了三条论断。第一，它们是伟大的杰作。这一点，我们衷心赞同。第二，它们是伟大的悲剧，因为主人翁坚持灾难性意愿。这一点，我们有所保留。第三，它们是伟大的悲剧，就像我们说《俄底浦斯》、《奥赛罗》、《白伦尼斯》是伟大的悲剧一样。对此我们恕不同意。”生活在清朝末世的王国维，能够大胆借鉴西方学说反观中国传统文化，其勇可嘉。可惜他常常只是稗贩肤受，知见不真。如其本叔本华之说而断言《红楼梦》为“悲剧之悲剧”，钱先生就曾讥其“削足适屡”，“作法自弊” ④。看来王氏在这里犯的是同一类错误。
钱先生还曾分别考察《窦娥冤》、《赵氏孤儿》二戏。
在略述《窦娥冤》的梗概后，钱先生指出：“最后一折特有的诗的正义对于我们被伤害的感情很有安抚作用，但问题是：它加强悲剧事件了吗？”当然没有。他并且指出，即使抛开第四折不论，前三折给我们的全面印象也不是悲剧的。“读者的感觉是：窦娥的品格是如此高尚和完美无缺，她的死是如此悲惨，冤案强加于她是如此令人不能容忍，以致干第四折不可避免地要调整平衡。换句话说，作者已经设置了这种情节，使这出戏只能是以诗的正义而不是以悲剧结束。”为什么？首先，对于窦娥可能有的悲剧缺陷，作者已经视而不见，窦娥仅仅作为一个完美的“节妇”与“孝妇”的代表而出现。其次，剧中的悲剧冲突纯粹是外在的、表面化的。其实，就《窦娥冤》提供的材料来看，剧作者完全可以通过窦娥心中意欲保全自己生命和希望救助婆婆之间的根本冲突，极为内在地加以表现。但是，如钱先生所指出的：“意味深长的是，剧作者没有把握住这一点。”正是由于这个原因，《窦娥冤》还算不得真正的悲剧。
钱先生认为，对于《窦娥冤》的这些批评，也多少可以应用在《赵氏孤儿》上。他并且指出：“这里的悲剧冲突更强烈、更内在。程婴的亲子之爱和痛苦的奉献职责之间的自我分裂得到了有力的表现。”于是，他认为，《赵氏孤儿》本来有指望成为世界上最伟大的悲剧之一，它的悲剧力量甚至比《窦娥冤》有更大的前途。但是，很不幸，爱和责的斗争力量并不相当，后者很容易地就战胜了前者。不但程婴勇于牺牲，公孙杵臼也自甘舍命，义无反顾。他们之救孤，完全与个人利益无关，只是出于一个坚定的信念，即：为晋国除奸，为忠臣留后。因此，他们并不是悲剧人物，而是“忠”、“义”一类抽象理念的化身。
钱先生在援引L．A，李德博士的悲剧理论后指出：“悲剧有两种类型。第一种，重在性格塑造。第二种，命运本身就能吸引注意力。莎士比亚属于第一种，希腊悲剧属于第二种。我们习惯上称之为悲剧的那些中国古代戏曲，只能算是莎士比亚式。像莎剧一样，它们不实行三一律，并强调性格和对邪恶境遇的反应。”钱先生的结论是：“但它们不是悲剧。因为正如我们已经看到的，剧作家对悲剧缺陷和悲剧冲突的观念不正确。”
从以上的分析和辩证中，我们已经可以看出，王国维关于中国古代戏曲中的悲剧的论断过于牵强，事实上是站不住脚的。
四
中国为什么缺乏悲剧？白璧德认为是中华民族缺少“伦理上的严肃性”。钱先生认为这种说法语焉不详，实际上没有说明什么问题。真正造成中国缺乏悲剧的原因乃是在于儒家的等级制度。这种等级制度成了道德
标准
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的差距。因此，“两种根本不相容的伦理本质发生冲突时往往不会激烈。当其中一种道德标准高过另一种时，标准较低的一方便始终在打一场不可能取胜的仗。”中国传统的伦理道德观念，如钱先生所指出的，《孟子•离娄》中所谓“大人者，言不必信，行不必果，唯义所在”与柳宗元《四维论》中所谓“廉与耻，义之小节，不得与义抗而为维”等等，都在中国古代戏曲中得到了体现。在中国文化精神中，当然是儒家思想占着上风，所以，强调情感与理性的合理调节，以取得社会存在和个体身心的均衡稳定。“道在伦常日用之中”，实用理性使中国人的人生观念和生活信仰崇尚在有限中追求无限，在实在处获得超越。后来，一般人民的意识中更掺入佛教的轮回果报观念，“善有善报，恶有恶报”成为普通人的理想。这些思想内容表现在我国古代戏曲中，便是所谓“诗的正义”。这既是理性化的极致，也是理想化的极致。
钱先生指出，“我们是个宿命论的民族。因此，令人费解的是，我们古代戏曲作家极少把命运当作悲剧的主题。”这是为什么呢？宿命论是一种迷信，宿命论认为在人力之外，有一种冥冥的力量为人类预定了遭遇，人之前途、发展，皆由命定，抗争并无益处，因为人根本不可能改变自己的命运。钱先生说：“宿命论本质上是失败主义的、消极的、导致懒散和迟钝的、逆来顺受的态度，而悲剧性反讽则存在于人在面对命运的播弄时所作的种种努力当中。”古代中国人确实让宿命论占了上风；到佛家的轮回果报说侵入之后，普通中国人便把自己的一切全部交给了命运，而这种命运的意指完全不同于古希腊悲剧所揭示的命运。身经苦难浩劫而浑然不觉其苦，与时浮沉、自甘沦落者不知悲剧为何物。只有爆发出反抗与斗争、突现出灵感与超越时才算有了悲剧。宿命论只能产生无尽的苦难，却不能造就悲剧。因此，钱先生说：“悲剧命运实际上与宿命论无关。”
除了从中国古代戏曲本身说明之外，钱先生还引述怀特海、布瑞德雷等西方大学问家关于悲剧的理论来反观古代戏曲，从理论上深入探讨了中国古代缺乏悲剧艺术的原因。限于篇幅，此处不能备述。
五
钱钟书先生在对中西戏剧进行广泛的比较研究以后得出中国古代戏曲中缺乏悲剧的结论。他这样做究竟基于什么考虑？有什么意义？钱先生认为，第一，这样做意在打消中国批评家对我们自己的戏曲所抱有的许多幻觉；第二，这样做有助于研究比较文学的学生确定中国古代戏曲在艺术宫殿中的适当位置。我们认为这种实事求是的态度是十分可取的，因为它既批评了中国人对本土文化的妄自尊大，又横扫了西方人以欧美文化为中心的偏见。
当认真读过上述见解之后，我们又一次深深感受到作者所一贯抱持的文化批判精神。对于中国传统文化的精熟和对于世界文化的通览，致使他在观察中国文化事物时，总是表现出一种清醒的头脑和一种深刻的洞察力。钱先生在另一篇文章中曾经谈到，他在学术研究中经常有意识地运用着的一种方法，叫做“回过头来另眼相看”。他并且解释说：“这种回过头来另眼相看，正是黑格尔一再讲的认识过程的重要转折点：对习惯事物增进了理解，由‘识’（bekannt）转而为‘知’（erkannt），从旧相识进而成真相知。” ⑤这种方法既可以帮助我们重新认识中国古代文学和文艺理论的深厚义蕴和独特价值，也能够帮助我们重新评价其历史局限性和地域局限性，从而促使中国文学走向世界，加入世界文学的总格局中。
钱钟书先生还指出：“我深信，假使比较文学专业的学生肯把中国古代文化纳进他们的视野，他们将能找到许多新材料，足以动摇西方批评家奉为圭臬的那些理论教条。对中国古代文学批评史专业的学生来说，这种切实的比较研究是特别重要的，因为他们由此才能够懂得我国古代批评家的材料同西方批评家的有怎样的不同，懂得在西方批评家和我们自己的批评家之间，为什么一方批评的基本原理不能被对方所了解和利用。这曾是我用多种方法研究中国古典文学的目的。为了充实美学经验，我们必须走向外国文学，为了充实其它方面，我们也必须走向我们自己的文学。文学研究中的禁欲主义已经够糟了，而拒绝承认西方微言妙论的‘爱国主义’则更糟。”中西文学中容有许多相同之处，但是，我们对这种相同的认知，是仅仅停留在现象的表面，还是深到它的本质层，意义大不一样。我们看到，只有如钱钟书先生那样，进行深刻的研究和探讨，才有可能对中西文学的异中之同和同中之异获致真正的了解和理解。
附记：据我知道，钱先生对这篇“少作”，像对其他“少作”（除掉少数几篇旧体诗）一样，很不满意，也不愿意别人称述。因为我觉得这篇文章颇有值得注意之处，所以，不揣冒昧，写了以上简单的提要。
注释：
（如舸斋案：注释原为页下注，现改为篇后注并相应调整注序。）
①发表于 T’ien Hsia Monthly（《天下月刊》）Ⅰ．l（August 1935）。
②《管锥编》第1册，第292页，第2册，第531页。《赵氏孤儿》的法译本又被转译为英文、德文、俄文等译本，并先后在法、德、意诸国出现了五种改编本，其中两种还分别出于大文豪伏尔泰和歌德之手。
③《诗学》第6章。
④《谈艺录》第351页。
⑤《读〈拉奥孔〉》，《七缀集》第30页。
感谢：
解放军艺术学院学报1999年第2期
钱钟书与王国维近半个世纪的对话
熊元义
二十世纪，就中国悲剧问题，我国两位杰出学者钱钟书与王国维进行了将近半个世纪的学术对话。
尽管这场学术对话因为对话一方王国维在这之前就已逝世，不可能有回应，但钱钟书在这一场学术对话中是有发展和变化的。如果我们完整地把握了王国维的中国悲剧观的发展和变化，就可以从这场学术对话中管窥钱钟书的中国悲剧观的发展和变化。尽管这种表现没有王国维的显著，但还是可以找到其中的线索的。这就是钱钟书在中国悲剧问题上也有一个从否定到回归的过程。
有趣的是，在这场学术对话中，王国维基本上是受钱钟书针砭的。无论是王国维的《宋元戏曲史》，还是其《〈红楼梦〉评论》，都遭到了钱钟书的批判。
我们知道，王国维从《〈红楼梦〉评论》到《宋元戏曲史》，其中国悲剧观是发展和变化的。
一九○四年，王国维引入德国哲学家叔本华的悲剧理论，对我国古典小说巨著《红楼梦》进行了深入而系统的解剖。这就是王国维的《〈红楼梦〉评论》。在这部论著中，王国维提出：“《红楼梦》一书，彻头彻尾的悲剧也。”王国维在高度肯定《红楼梦》在美学上的价值的基础上，断言中国古典戏曲、小说除了《红楼梦》以外，没有其它悲剧存在。他说：“吾国之文学以挟乐天的精神故，故往往说诗歌的正义：善人必令其终，而恶人必令其罚。此亦吾国戏曲小说之特质也。《红楼梦》则不然。”王国维将《红楼梦》作为伟大悲剧和我国其它文艺作品完全对立起来，彻底地否定了我国其它悲剧的存在。即使他略有肯定的文艺作品《桃花扇》，因为是他律的，非自律的，也遭到了贬斥。“《桃花扇》之解脱非真解脱也。沧桑之变，目击之而身历之，不能自悟而悟于张道士之一言，且以历数千里，冒不测之险，投缧绁之中，所索之女子才得一面，而以道士之言，一朝舍之，自非三尺童子其谁信之哉？”（注：《王国维学术经典集》（上），江西人民出版社1997年5月版， 第59页。）
一九一二年，王国维虽然没有完全摆脱西方悲剧理论，真正地从中国悲剧观出发审视中国古典艺术的悲剧，但是他无疑较过去有很大的进步，朝中国悲剧观回归了。在《宋元戏曲史》一书中，王国维深刻地指出：“明以后，传奇无非喜剧，而元则有悲剧在其中。就其存者言之：如《汉宫秋》《梧桐雨》《西蜀梦》《火烧介子推》《张千替杀妻》等，初无所谓先离后合，始困终亨之事也。其最有悲剧之性质者，则如关汉卿之《窦娥冤》，纪君祥之《赵氏孤儿》。剧中虽有恶人交构其间，而其蹈汤赴火者，仍出于其主人翁之意志，即列之于世界大悲剧中，亦无愧色。”（注：《王国维学术经典集》（上），江西人民出版社1997年5月版，第281—282页。）可以说， 这是王国维对中国悲剧的进一步发现。尽管还不彻底，但和过去相比，无疑有了相当大的进步。
本来，作为后起之秀的钱钟书应该在王国维所达到的高峰上继续攀登和前进。但是，钱钟书却运用西方悲剧理论彻底否定了这一高峰。
一九三五年，钱钟书在上海的《天下》月刊用英文发表论文《中国古典戏曲中的悲剧》。钱钟书在这篇论文中认为中国戏曲没有悲剧这种戏剧的最高形式。他说：“悲剧自然是最高形式的戏剧艺术，但恰恰在这方面，我国古代剧作家却无一成功。除了喜剧和滑稽剧外，确切地说，一般的正剧都属于传奇剧。这种戏剧表现的是一连串松散连缀的激情，却没有表现出一种主导激情。赏善惩恶通常是这类剧的主题，其中哀婉动人与幽默诙谐的场景有规则地交替变换，借用《雾都孤儿》里一个通俗的比喻，就像一层层肥瘦相间的五花肉。至于真正的悲剧意义，那种由崇高而触发的痛苦，‘啊！我心中有两种情感！’之类的感受以及因未尽善而终成尽恶的认识，在这种剧作中都很少涉及。”（注：《中外比较文学的里程碑》，人民文学出版社1997年12月版，第359页。）
王国维认为：“明以后，传奇无非喜剧，而元则有悲剧在其中。”而列之于世界大悲剧中亦无愧色的关汉卿的《窦娥冤》、纪君祥的《赵氏孤儿》在元代悲剧中是最有悲剧之性质的。王国维的这个论断首当其冲地遭到了钱钟书的批判。钱钟书认为王国维所说的“最有悲剧之性质”的两部古典戏曲“一、它们是文学名著。这一点我们也默认。二、它们都是大悲剧，因为赴汤蹈火都出自主人翁的意志。对于这一点，我们还有话要说。三、它们是大悲剧，可以说是建立在这个基础之上，即认定《俄狄浦斯》《奥赛罗》以及《贝蕾尼斯》都是大悲剧。这一点，恕我们不敢苟同。”（注：《中外比较文学的里程碑》，人民文学出版社1997年12月版，第362—363页。）
钱钟书之所以不敢苟同王国维所说的，是因为“王国维这种萌发于主人翁意志的整个悲剧观似乎是高乃依式的。但王氏所构想的悲剧冲突并不像高乃依所构想的那样倾向于人物内在的冲突。”（注：《中外比较文学的里程碑》，人民文学出版社1997年12月版，第363页。）
王国维曾经引进西方悲剧理论阐释中国古典小说《红楼梦》，钱钟书也是如此。与王国维引进叔本华的悲剧理论不同， 钱钟书不过是以L•A•里德博士的悲剧理论为矢的。 钱钟书认为：“悲剧有两种主要类型：一种是以人物性格为中心的悲剧，另一种是以命运本身为主的悲剧。莎士比亚的悲剧属第一种，而古希腊的悲剧却属第二种。中国古代戏剧中勉强称得上悲剧的作品大都倾向于第一种。像莎式剧一样，它们都摒弃了三一律，并强调人物性格及其对恶劣环境的反应。但是，它们并不是悲剧，正如我们所看到的，因为剧作者对于悲剧性弱点及悲剧冲突的概念，只有一种不适当的观念而已。”（注：《中外比较文学的里程碑》，人民文学出版社1997年12月版，第365页。）
钱钟书认为关汉卿的《窦娥冤》没有挖掘窦端云对自身生命的热爱与拯救其婆婆性命的愿望之间的矛盾这种内在的悲剧冲突，而是描写外在的悲剧冲突。窦端云的“思想始终如一：在她对已故丈夫的忠贞与对新求婚者的反感之间存在着一种预定的和谐。她拒斥了恶棍张驴儿，以不容分割的灵魂迎接了这一场挑战。”“窦端云既没有任何过错应当夭亡，也不是命运注定要丧生。如果说她的性格中有什么可悲的弱点的话，那么剧作者对此则是视而不见的，而且最终希望我们也同样如此。”（注：《中外比较文学的里程碑》，人民文学出版社1997年12月版，第364页。）而“在最后一折中，具有中国戏曲特色的因果报应， 使我们的义愤之情完全化为乌有。随之出现的问题是：这种因果报应是否加强了悲剧气氛？即使我们暂时回避这个问题，抛开第四折不计，难道我们能说前三折给我们留下了无需安慰、无需鼓舞、独立自恃这么一种悲剧印象吗？只要细心体味一下，便会作出否定回答。人们觉得，窦端云这个人物性格非常崇高，毫无缺陷，她的死令人非常同情，她的冤屈令人十分愤怒，以至于第四折中人们迫切需要调节一下心理平衡。换言之，剧作者这样描写是为了让该剧以因果报应结尾，而不是以悲剧告终。”（注：《中外比较文学的里程碑》，人民文学出版社1997年12月版，第363—364页。）因此，《窦娥冤》还算不得真正的悲剧。
钱钟书认为，对于《窦娥冤》的这些批评，或多或少也适用于《赵氏孤儿》。《赵氏孤儿》的“悲剧的冲突要激烈、更内在一些。程婴在骨肉之爱与抛子之责这两者之间的自我选择得到了充分的表现。然而不幸的是，抗争力、疼爱与责任之间原非势均力敌，显而易见，其中之一不难战胜其它两者。程婴显然认为（而且剧作者也诱使我们替他认为）尽到弃子之责比沉溺于父爱之中更加仗义——‘仅此一端算几何！’这里的悲剧冲突根本不强烈，紧张的悲剧对抗戛然而止，局势便径直朝一个方面倾斜。这一点在公孙杵臼身上表现得再清楚不过了。他在决心不惜性命保护孤儿时，对爱与责的抉择没有半点犹豫。最后希望成为‘列于世界大悲剧中亦无愧色’的此剧，不是在精神的耗费中完结，而是在物质的成果里告终。”（注：《中外比较文学的里程碑》，人民文学出版社1997年12月版，第364—365页。）所以，《赵氏孤儿》也不是真正的悲剧。
显然，钱钟书没有真正地把握中国悲剧的审美特征，而是引进西方悲剧理论否认中国悲剧的存在。
近现代以来，对中国悲剧无论是否定还是肯定的，都是以西方悲剧概念为评价标准，只不过前者认为凡不符合西方悲剧概念的就不是悲剧，后者将不符合西方悲剧概念的东西视为中国悲剧的独特性。这都没有从中国悲剧实际出发概括中国悲剧的审美特征。与西方悲剧相比，中国悲剧有其独特的审美特征。中国悲剧既有正义力量和邪恶势力的先后毁灭，即悲剧冲突的双方的先后毁灭，也有正义即道不但得到延续，而且是克服重重困难和阻遏后取得最终胜利。在这一方面，它和西方悲剧没有根本上的区别。但是，中国悲剧对现存冲突的解决不是形而上的，而是形而下的；不是诉诸某种“绝对理念”的自我发展和自我完善，而是诉诸从根本上解决现实生活的矛盾和冲突的物质力量即正义力量。这样，中国悲剧就和西方悲剧从根本上区别开来。而中国悲剧的大团圆不是抽象的，而且具体地表现了这种正义力量战胜邪恶势力的历史过程。中国悲剧的悲剧人物不但是历史正义的化身，而且在道德上还是完美的。中国悲剧的正义力量不是因为自我的局限而遭受毁灭，而是因为邪恶势力的摧残和毁灭。因此，正义力量的暂时毁灭不是黑格尔所说的罪有应得，而是无辜的。正义力量在道德上是完美的，没有罪过和不义。正义力量在大团圆这种现实世界的延续中经过不懈的努力和奋斗，最终战胜和消灭了邪恶势力，达到了历史的进步和道德的进步的统一。
追求历史的进步和道德的进步的统一，是中西方悲剧的共同境界。中国悲剧是通过否定和拒绝邪恶势力实现这个统一的，西方悲剧是通过否定人自身的缺陷和罪过完成这个统一的。中国悲剧人物之所以陷入悲剧不但是因为邪恶势力过于强大，而且是因为他们追求自身的完美。和中国悲剧人物追求自身的完美一样，西方悲剧人物也追求自身的完美。不过，中国悲剧人物是性本善，这种追求表现为守节，西方悲剧人物是有罪的，毁灭包括自我毁灭是自我惩罚或以赎前愆。这种不同也表现在悲剧冲突上，中国悲剧的悲剧冲突主要发生在邪恶势力与正义力量之间，很少有悲剧人物的内在冲突。中国悲剧人物对外在的邪恶势力的斗争最坚决的，一往无前的，义无反顾的，这是中国悲剧的优势。但是，中国悲剧人物因为自身的完美，所以对悲剧的发生不承担什么责任，往往容易一概诿过于外在的邪恶势力。中国悲剧不敢正视悲剧人物的自身缺陷，即使存在某种缺陷，也曲意修正美化。西方悲剧则有所不同。其悲剧冲突尽管也表现在正义力量和邪恶势力之间，但主要地表现在悲剧人物身上，西方悲剧人物在自我反省中主动承担责任，很是值得中国悲剧吸收和发扬。中国悲剧人物和西方悲剧人物都有主动放弃的行为，但是，中国悲剧人物的放弃和拒绝是继续斗争，是继续抗争，西方悲剧人物的放弃是退让，是自我否定。
钱钟书因为按图索骥，所以不可能真正理解和认识中国悲剧。例如洪升的《长生殿》。钱钟书认为《长生殿》里极富美感而令人动情的华贵场面，是绝好的素材，但不能把它与悲剧力量混为一谈，它最终给我们留下的不是和谐与舒适，而是内心由于对剧中人物遭难产生共鸣而削弱了的轻微的隐痛，是对慰藉、支持以及更为贴近感情愿望的一系列东西的渴望。这确实完全脱离了纯粹的悲剧体验。钱钟书说：“在灾难面前渴望生活，在悲痛中追求享受，这才是属于悲剧的东西。我清楚地知道唐明皇没有像安东尼那样死去，这是历史事实。但我的看法是，在这种情况下，即使不安排皇帝的死亡，悲剧的典型性也很突出。尽管如此，我们古代的悲剧家们在处理这种剧情时，却未能使他们的剧作给我们以充分的悲剧体验。”（注：《中外比较文学的里程碑》，人民文学出版社1997年12月版，第362页。 ）从《汉宫秋》的王昭君到《长生殿》的杨玉环，她们都能够为了江山社稷抛却自己的生命。只有在她们挽救了江山社稷，她们所追求的爱情才具有真正震撼人心的力量。当江山变色的时候，她们所追求的爱情也就不存在了。孔尚任的《桃花扇》就是这样告诉我们的，“当此地覆天翻，还恋情根欲种，岂不可笑！”“两个痴虫，你看国在那里，家在那里，君在哪里，父在哪里，偏是这点花月情根，割他不断么？”因此，这些悲剧作品的悲剧冲突不是要江山和要美人的冲突，而是追求真正的爱情和这种
要求
对教师党员的评价套管和固井爆破片与爆破装置仓库管理基本要求三甲医院都需要复审吗
实现不了的冲突。如果悲剧人物对真正的爱情的追求是执著的，生死不渝，真心到底，而这种追求又受到邪恶势力的阻遇而实现不了，那么，其悲剧冲突就非常强烈。破坏他们真正的爱情的，尽管不能说没有他们个人的原因，但主要还是外在的邪恶势力，或是外敌入侵，或是发生叛乱，或是权奸当道。他们冲破这些外在的邪恶势力的阻遏，追求真正的爱情，无疑是真正的悲剧。
钱钟书不能从中国悲剧的实际出发把握中国悲剧，就很难有正确的认识。
当然，我们承认中国悲剧的存在，并有自己的独特的审美特征，但也不否认消解悲剧的倾向的存在，这就是还债说。这在中国古典小说中有比较突出的表现。例如《红楼梦》，王国维不但认为这是彻头彻尾的悲剧，而且认为是悲剧中的悲剧。他说：“兹就宝玉、黛玉之事言之，贾母爱宝钗之婉嫕，因惩黛玉之孤僻，又信金玉之邪说，而思厌宝玉之病；王夫人固亲于薛氏，凤姐以持家之故，忌黛玉之才，而虞其不便于已也，袭人惩尤二姐、香菱之事，闻黛玉‘不是东风压西风，就是西风压东风’之语，惧祸之及，而自同于风姐，亦自然之势也。宝玉之于黛玉，信誓旦旦，而不能言之于最爱之之祖母，则普通之道德使然，况黛玉一女子哉！由此种种原因，而金石以之合，木石以之离，又岂有蛇蝎之人物，非常之变故，行于其间哉？不过通常之道德，通常之人情，通常之境遇为之而已。由此观之，《红楼梦》者，可谓悲剧中之悲剧也。”（注：《王国维学术经典集》（上），江西人民出版社1997年5月版，第60—61页。）然而，这个木石良缘不过是“只因当年这个石头，娲皇未用，自己却也落得逍遥自在，各处去游玩；一日，来到警幻仙子处，那仙子知他有些来历，因留他在赤霞宫中，名他为赤霞宫神瑛侍者。他却常在西方灵河岸上行走，看见那灵河岸上三生石畔有棵绛珠仙草，十分娇娜可爱，遂日以甘露灌溉，这绛珠草始得久延岁月。后来既受天地精华，复得甘露滋养，遂脱了草木之胎，幻化人形，仅仅修成女体，终日游于‘离恨天’外，饥餐‘秘情果’，渴饮‘灌愁水’，只因尚未酬报灌溉之德，故甚至五内郁结着一段缠绵不尽之意，常说：‘自己受了他雨露之惠，我并无此水可还；他若下世为人，我也同去走一遭，但把我一生所有的眼泪还他，也还得过了！’因此一事，就勾出多少风流冤家都要下凡，造历幻缘。那绛珠仙草也在其中。”看来，外在的邪恶势力拆散宝黛二人反倒是成全林黛玉了。这样，爱情悲剧就不存在了。又例如《说岳全传》。岳飞和秦桧夫妇的冲突，乃是前世冤仇。“且说西方极乐世界大雷音寺我佛如来，一日端坐九品莲台，旁列着四大菩萨、八大金刚、五百罗汉、三千偈谛、比邱尼、比邱僧、优婆夷、优婆塞，共诸天护法圣众，齐听讲说妙法真经。正说得天花乱坠、宝雨缤纷之际，不期有一位星官，乃是女士蝠，偶在莲台之下听讲，一时忍不住撒出一个臭屁来。我佛原是个大慈大悲之主，毫不在意。不道恼了佛顶上头一位护法神祗，名为大鹏金翅明王，眼射金光，背呈祥瑞，见那女士蝠污秽不洁，不觉大怒，展开双翅落下来，望着女士蝠头上，这一嘴就啄死了。那女士蝠一点灵光射出雷音寺，径往东士认母投胎，在下界王门为女，后来嫁与秦桧为妻，残害忠良，以报今日之仇。”“且说佛爷将慧眼一观，口称：‘善哉，善哉！原来有此一段因果！’即换大鹏鸟近前，喝道：‘你这孽畜！既归我教，怎不皈依五戒，辄敢如此行凶！我这里用你不着。今将你降落红尘，偿还冤债。直待功成行满，方许你归山，再成正果。’大鹏鸟遵了法旨，飞出雷音寺，径来东士投胎”。这个神话故事生动地演绎了岳飞和秦桧夫妇在前世的恩恩冤冤。看来，岳飞含冤而死乃是偿还冤债，是罪有应得。杨义认为这是预叙。他在比较了中西叙事学的差异后指出：“预叙和倒叙在时间顺序变异操作中，是处于两极的概念。”在西方文学传统中，预叙相对薄弱。预叙远不如倒叙那么频繁出现。在中国文学传统中，正好相反。“中国作家在作品的开头就采取了大跨度、高速度的时间操作，以期和天人之道、历史法则接轨。这就使他们的作品不是首先注意到一人一事的局部细描，而是在宏观操作中充满对历史、人生的透视感和预言感。于是，预叙也就不是其弱项而是其强项。 ”（注：参见《中国叙事学》， 人民出版社1997年12月版，第151—152页。）如果仅仅从艺术形式上着眼，这是可以肯定的。但从审美价值上来看，则是应该否定的。因为这是对悲剧的消解。
近半个世纪后，钱钟书认识到按照西方悲剧理论是无法完全认识中国悲剧作品的。这表现在钱钟书对王国维的《〈红楼梦〉评论》的批判上。
这个批判引伸出了两个重要结论。一是中国古典小说《红楼梦》有不同西方悲剧理论即叔本华的悲剧理论的独特的审美特征；二是小说、诗歌、戏剧与哲学、历史、社会学这两家“利导则两美可以相得，强合则两贤必至相阨”。
1984年9月，钱钟书在《谈艺录》（修订本）中指出， 王国维附会叔本华以阐释《红楼梦》，不免作法自毙，是削足适履。
钱钟书说：王国维“于叔本华著作，口沫手胝，《〈红楼梦〉评论》中反复称述，据其说以断言《红楼梦》为‘悲剧之悲剧’。贾母惩黛玉之孤僻而信金玉之邪说也；王夫人亲于薛氏、凤姐而忌黛玉之才慧也；袭人虑不容于寡妻也；宝玉畏不得于大母也；由此种种原因，而木石遂不得不离也。洵持之有故矣。然似于叔本华之道未尽，于其理未彻也。苟尽其道而彻其理，则当知木石因缘，徼幸成就，喜将变忧，佳耦始者或以怨耦终；遥闻声而相思相慕，习进前而渐疏渐厌，花红初无几日，月满不得连宵，好事徒成虚话，含饴还同嚼蜡（参观《管锥编》一○九页、三二六页、一五二四页）。”（注：《谈艺录》（修订本），中华书局1984年9月版，第349页。）“苟本叔本华之说，则宝黛良缘虽就，而好逑渐至寇仇，‘冤家’终为怨耦，方是‘悲剧之悲剧’。然《红楼梦》现有收场，正亦切事入情，何劳削足适履。”（注：《谈艺录》（修订本），中华书局1984年9月版，第351页。）《红楼梦》有不同于叔本华的悲剧理论的独特的审美特征。王国维不从《红楼梦》本身出发，而是附会叔本华的哲学，削足适履地阐释《红楼梦》，颇不可取。
当然，王国维的《〈红楼梦〉评论》所存在的问题远不只这些。王国维在《〈红楼梦〉评论》中不但按照西方悲剧理论削足适履地阐释中国悲剧作品，而且按照西方悲剧理论完全彻底地否定了除了《红楼梦》以外的其它中国悲剧作品的存在。这些错误在后来都有各自不同的表现。
钱钟书认为：“盖自叔本华哲学言之，《红楼梦》未能穷理窟而抉道根；而自《红楼梦》小说言之，叔本华空扫万象，敛归一律，尝滴水知大海味，而不屑观海之澜。夫《红楼梦》、佳著也，叔本华哲学、玄谛也；利导则两美可以相得，强合则两贤必至相阨。此非仅《红楼梦》与叔本华哲学为然也。”（注：《谈艺录》（修订本），中华书局1984年9月版，第351页。）钱钟书以对“吾辈穷气尽力，欲使小说、诗歌、戏剧，与哲学、历史、社会学等为一家”，提倡“参禅贵活，为学知止，要能舍筏登岸，毋如抱梁溺水也”（注：《谈艺录》（修订本），中华书局1984年9月版，第352页。）。二十世纪即将结束了，这场学术对话的两位杰出学者都已先后作古。从王国维的《〈红楼梦〉评论》（1904年）到钱钟书的《谈艺录》（修订本）（1984年），整整八十年。我们在世纪末梳理这场学术对话，可以说是从一个侧面勾勒了二十世纪学术发展的背景。但愿二十一世纪我们不要重蹈覆辙。
感谢：
戏曲艺术 2000年第2期
钱钟书：中国古典戏曲中的悲剧（译文）
中国古典戏曲中的悲剧
钱钟书
悲剧自然是最高形式的戏剧艺术，但恰恰在这方面，我国古代剧作家却无一成功。除了喜剧和滑稽剧外，确切地说，一般的正剧都属于传奇剧。这种戏剧表现的是一连串松散连缀的激情，却没有表现出一种主导激情。赏善惩恶通常是这类剧的主题，其中哀婉动人与幽默诙谐的场景有规则地交替变换，借用《雾都孤儿》里一个通俗的比喻，就像一层层肥瘦相间的五花肉。至于真正的悲剧意义，那种由崇高而触发的痛苦，“啊！我心中有两种情感！”之类的感受以及因未尽善而终成尽恶的认识，在这种剧作中都很少涉及。的确，有相当一部分古代戏曲的结尾是悲哀的。但是一个敏感的读者很容易觉察到它（们）与真正悲剧的区别：读完作品，并无激情已经耗尽之后的平静，或者如斯宾诺莎所谓的对存在于万物之中的命运之捉弄的默许；恰恰相反，却被一种剧烈的悲痛所缠绕而感到极度的郁郁不乐和怅然若失，甚至连自身都想回避。只要将莎士比亚的《安东尼与克利奥佩特拉》和德莱顿的《为爱牺牲》与白仁甫的《梧桐雨》和洪昇的《长生殿》相比较，就能认识到其间的差异。这两部中国戏曲都是写唐玄宗及其宠妃杨贵妃的，而两个英国剧本也正好都是写安东尼和克利奥佩特拉的，并且都是为了爱情而“失去江山”的故事。两出中国剧和《安东尼与克利奥佩特拉》极为相似，因为它们都摒弃了时间与地点的一致性，这四个剧的前半部，根本没有悲剧场景和事件的出现。它们都如田园诗一般开场，但其结局却毫不相同。读完两部中国戏曲之后，留下的只有个人的同情，而没有上升到更高层次的悲剧体验。虽然《梧桐雨》中扣人心弦的抒情，和《长生殿》里极富美感而令人动情的华贵场面，都是绝好的素材，但不能把它们与悲剧力量混为一谈，它们最终给我们留下的不是和谐与舒适，而是内心由于对剧中人物遭难产生共鸣而削弱了的轻微的隐痛，是对慰藉、支持以及更为贴近感情愿望的一系列东西的渴求。 确实完全脱离了纯粹的悲剧体验，这种悲剧体验正如I•A•瑞恰兹在《文学批评原理》中所精辟论述的那样：“存在着，无需安慰，也无需鼓励，它独立自恃。”可见，尽管一种体验也许与另一种体验同等重要，但它们留下的感受却绝不相同。
这些中国戏曲留给读者的不是悲痛欲绝之感，而是对更美好世界的渴望，其戏剧结构更加强了这一感受。帷幕的落下不是在主要悲剧事件发生之时，而是在后果显示之后。所以，悲剧的激情和痛苦的高潮似乎带有漫长的尾声。它就好像是颤音或叹息的绵延，产生出一种特殊的效果。在《梧桐雨》中，杨贵妃在第三折就死了，而留下了整整的一折来表现唐玄宗的哀痛、憔悴，以致他那一颗破碎的心完全被无可奈何的不幸所吞噬。在《长生殿》里，唐明皇在第二十五出里丧失了爱妃，这仅仅是为第五十出的重新团圆作好铺垫（这或多或少与华兹华斯诗中的普罗忒希勒和罗达米亚格式相似）。这些安排都绝非偶然，而更为重要的是，由于剧中悲剧人物的崇高不足以使我们与之保持足够的心理距离，所以人们仅仅局限于对他们怀有个人的同情而已。尽管悲剧人物存在着缺陷，但它并没有与任何人格的分量和个性的魅力形成鲜明的对比。比如两个剧中的唐明皇基本上都是一个懦弱无能、几乎完全是自私的、耽于声色的昏君，他没有一点抗争，没有内在的矛盾冲突。由于对杨贵妃的宠爱，他丢掉了社稷；但为了夺回江山，他宁可抛弃杨贵妃。他没有把恩爱与社稷这两极紧紧地拧在一起而不致分离的个性，他甚至缺乏两全其美的意识。在白仁甫的剧里，他好像是一个懦夫和无赖。当叛贼以处死杨贵妃来胁迫他时，他对她说：“妃子不济事了，寡人直不能保。”杨贵妃哀求他救命，他答道：“寡人怎生是好！”杨贵妃最终被带走时，他又对她说：“卿休怨寡人！”我们并不喜欢夸大其辞，但他这些话确系过分软弱无力的表白，言之凿凿，勿庸赘述。在洪昇的剧里，唐明皇的态度更加厚颜无耻。杨贵妃勇敢地去死，但他执意不肯，竟说为了恩爱，宁可不要江山。然而在片刻思忖之后，他又把她交给了叛军，并与之诀别道：“罢罢，妃子既执意如此，朕也做不得主了。”为唐明皇说句公道话，他的这番言词倒还是含着泪，跺着脚动情地道出来的。然而，试将它们与莎剧中安东尼的话对比：
让罗马融化在台伯河的流水里，
让广袤的帝国的高大的拱门倒塌吧！
这儿是我的生存的空间。
或与德莱顿剧中安东尼那更朴实的话语相比：
将一切都带走吧，这个世界对我来说不屑不顾。
诚然，把如此霄壤之别的东西放在一起来比较，实在近乎可笑。在灾难面前渴望生活，在悲痛中追求享受，这才是属于悲剧的东西。我清楚地知道唐明皇没有像安东尼那样死去，这是历史事实。但我的看法是，在这种情况下，即使不安排皇帝的死亡，悲剧的典型性也很突出。尽管如此，我们古代的悲剧家们在处理这种剧情时，却未能使他们的剧作给我们以充分的悲剧体验。
因此，我这里斗胆——当然肯定怀着怯惧——向王国维这样一位古代中国戏曲研究权威提出异议。在《宋元戏曲史》中，王国维说：“明以后，传奇无非喜剧，而元则有悲剧在其中。就其存者言之：如《汉宫秋》、《梧桐雨》等，初无所谓先离后合，始困终亨之事也。其最有悲剧之性质者，则如关汉卿之《窦娥冤》、纪君祥之《赵氏孤儿》。剧中虽有恶人交构其间，而其赴汤蹈火者，仍出于其主人翁之意志。即列之于世界大悲剧中，亦无愧色也。”（以上高论录自第十二章《元曲之文章》。）我们已经讨论了《梧桐雨》。正如奥古斯丁•比勒尔巧妙地指出的：“一条绳子力量的大小只能根据它的最细的那部分去判断，而对诗人的评价则要看其鼎盛时期。”下面我们将研究一下被王国维认为是“最有悲剧性质”的两部戏曲。归纳一下，我们至少可以看出王国维对以上两剧所做出的三条评论：一、它们是文学名著。这一点我们也默认。二、它们都是大悲剧，因为赴汤蹈火都出自主人翁的意志。对于这一点，我们还有话要说。三、它们是大悲剧，可以说是建立在这个基础之上，即认定《俄狄浦斯》、《奥赛罗》以及《贝蕾尼斯》都是大悲剧。这一点，恕我们不敢苟同。的确，王国维这种萌发于主人翁意志的整个悲剧观似乎是高乃依式的。但王氏所构想的悲剧冲突并不像高乃依所构想的那样倾向于人物内在的冲突。无论怎样轻描淡写，高乃依有时确实触及了荣誉与爱情之间的强烈矛盾，《熙德》里的主人翁罗德利克就是一例。空谈不如实验，还是让我们依次对这两剧进行扼要的探讨。
首先看看《窦娥冤》。窦天章是一位贫穷潦倒的秀才，他要上京城应试，但苦于缺少盘缠，而且尚欠着蔡婆一些旧账，所以将其女端云送给蔡婆作童养媳以抵债。八年后，端云与蔡婆的儿子完婚。两年后，她的丈夫死于痨病。流氓恶棍张驴儿便打起她的主意。但她恪守烈女不嫁二夫这一传统的道德准则，坚决不从。后来，张驴儿想毒死蔡婆未遂，却误将其父毒死，便嫁祸于窦娥，接着便出现了令人毛骨悚然的《法场》这一折戏。在这里，为了消除昏官对婆婆的怀疑，窦娥便一身承担了所有罪责，她被判为犯罪。在法场上，她祈求上天怜悯她降给人间大旱三年。这发生在第三折。在第四折中，离家多年的窦天章以提刑肃政廉访使的身份来审理此案，并为窦娥之死进行了昭雪。以上便是对主要剧情的简单概括。在最后一折中，具有中国戏曲特色的因果报应，使我们的义愤之情完全化为乌有。随之出现的问题是：这种因果报应是否加强了悲剧气氛？即使我们暂时回避这个问题，抛开第四折不计，难道我们能说前三折给我们留下了无需安慰、无需鼓舞、独立自恃这么一种悲剧印象吗？只要细心体味一下，便会作出否定回答。人们觉得，窦端云这个人物性格非常崇高，毫无缺陷，她的死令人非常同情，她的冤屈令人十分愤怒，以至于在第四折中人们迫切需要调节一下心理平衡。换言之，剧作者这样描写是为了让该剧以因果报应结尾，而不是以悲剧告终。为什么？窦端云既没有任何过错应当夭亡，也不是命运注定要丧生。如果说她的性格中有什么可悲的弱点的话，那么剧作者对此则是视而不见的，而且最终希望我们也同样如此。剧作者无疑对她寄予同情，我们也对她怀有道德正义感，甚至神力与命运也站在她一边——大旱三年和六月飞雪的应验。那么，天哪！我不知为什么要如此过分地表现因果报应？再者，剧中所描写的悲剧冲突纯属外在的。她的思想始终如一：在她对已故丈夫的忠贞与对新求婚者的反感之间存在着一种预定的和谐。她拒斥了恶棍张驴儿，以不容分割的灵魂迎接了这场挑战。在这种情况下，保持主人翁的意志相对而言应属易事。然而，如果通过描写窦端云对自身生命的热爱与拯救其婆婆性命的愿望之间的矛盾，也许会构成内在的悲剧冲突。这一点尽管如此重要，剧作者却没有将其把握住。
我们对《窦》剧的批语或多或少也适用于《赵氏孤儿》。该剧的主人翁是赵氏门下攻人程婴，他割舍了自己的亲生骨肉，拯救了孤儿的生命，最后哺育孤儿长大，向恶棍报了冤仇。这个剧近乎十足的因果报应大团圆：恶棍被千刀万剐，孤儿重获荣华富贵，程婴的牺牲也得到了报偿。在这里，悲剧的冲突更激烈、更内在一些。程婴在骨肉之爱与抛子之责这两者之间的自我选择得到了充分的表现。然而不幸的是，抗争力、疼爱与责任之间原非势均力敌，显而易见，其中之一不难战胜其它两者。程婴显然认为（而且剧作者也诱使我们替他认为）尽到弃子之责比沉溺于父爱之中更加仗义——“仅此一端算几何！”这里的悲剧冲突根本不强烈，始终的悲剧对抗戛然而止，局势便径直朝一个方向倾斜。这一点在公孙杵臼身上表现得再清楚不过了。他在决心不惜性命保护孤儿时，对爱与责的抉择没有半点犹豫。最后希望成为“列于世界大悲剧中亦无愧色”的此剧，不是在精神的耗费中完结，而是在物质的成果里告终。我要赶紧声明，作出如此的批评丝毫不是要否定《赵氏孤儿》是一出非常激动人心的戏曲，比之《窦娥冤》，它更显示了悲剧无量的潜力。
依照L•A•里德博士的看法（他在《美学研究》中对悲剧所作的精辟讨论，使我获益匪浅），悲剧有两种主要类型：一种是以人物性格为中心的悲剧，另一种是以命运本身为主的悲剧。莎士比亚的悲剧属第一种，而古希腊的悲剧却属第二种。中国古代戏剧中勉强称得上悲剧的作品大都倾向于第一种。像莎式剧一样，它们都摒弃了三一律，并强调人物性格及其对恶劣环境的反应。但是，它们并不是悲剧，正如我们所看到的，因为剧作者对于悲剧性弱点及悲剧冲突的概念，只有一种不适当的观念而已。在《卢梭与浪漫主义》中的《中国原始主义》一文中，欧文•白璧德把悲剧作品的缺乏归结为中国人身上的“伦理严肃性”意识的缺乏。这个术语很含糊，需要进一步解释。白璧德可能指的是本文开头所谈到的“人为性”。如果我们上面的分析正确的话，那么，中国人的这个毛病就源于等级制度下特定的道德秩序。每一道德价值在这个社会天平上都被放在应有的位置，而所有精神和物质上的东西都依照严格的“道德秩序”（order of merit）来安排，因此，两个不相容的伦理实体之间的冲突也就失去其尖锐性，因为其中的一个比另一个道德价值高，而道德价值较低的实体在冲突中永远处于劣势。这样，我们只能从中看到一种直线性人格，而不是一种平行人格。较低的道德实体之否定，得到的充分补偿则是较高道德实体的肯定，所以说这丝毫也不是“悲剧超越”。（参见《孟子•离娄》篇中关于“大人”品行的几句名言以及柳宗元的优秀杂文《四维论》。）这种看法的确也表现在我们古代剧作之中。
我们被认为是相信天命的人。然而，古代剧作者以天命为悲剧主题的作品却十分罕见，这就颇为奇怪。但是，悲剧命运实际上与宿命论毫无关系。后者本质上是一种由冷淡和迟钝所导致的被命运击败的、被动的和易于接受的处世态度，而前者则基于这种事实之上，即人类纵使受到命运的百般捉弄，依然继续进行斗争。进一步讲，我们通常所指的命运与希腊悲剧中所反映的命运毫不相同。怀特海教授在《科学与现代世界》中指出：“当今崇拜科学想象的朝圣者们，其圣祖应是古希腊雅典悲剧家——埃斯库罗斯、索福克勒斯和欧里庇德斯。他们对于命运的想象——无情的或冷漠的——都促使悲剧事件有一个不可避免的结局，这正是科学所拥有的远见……物理定律就是命运律令。”我们中国人的命运观念尚不那么具有科学活力，而只是因果报应。（在《莎士比亚悲剧》一书中，A•C•布拉德雷博士要求我们明确地把它与悲剧性的不公正区别开来。）前者认为，幸运与灾难的分配是与剧中人的是非曲直相对应的。换句话说，我们的命运观是行为与奖赏的代名词，而不是原因与结果的同义语。行动观念，它不是一种中性的伦理观念，即认定行动者必然遭受苦难，而是一种情感信仰，即美德就是其自身的一种奖赏，而且还伴随许多将要到来的奖赏。事实非只“种瓜得瓜，种豆得豆”而已，而是在快乐中种，则不会在泪水中收。反之，结果可能与原因不相对应。可想而知，奖赏也就完全可能与行为不相一致。我们便总是用灵魂转生理论去解释这种不一致性：我们要么在前生欠下许多债，要么在来世得弥补。这种观念与古希腊的观念截然对立。此外，依照我们通常的设想，命运如尼采所为的那样，是人道的，仁慈的。命运的冷嘲并不可怕，但是正如哈代在谈论天意时所说，却带有一种微妙的不无害处的公开戏弄。——参见马致远的饶有趣味的剧作《荐福碑》。E•M•福斯特先生在《小说面面观》中对哈代的批评，同样适用于这部戏剧作品。
对于中国和西方戏剧的比较研究，是很有益处的。这有两个原因。第一，消除了包括中国批评家在内的中外批评家对中国戏剧所抱的成见。第二，能够帮助从事比较文学研究的学者们在艺术殿堂里把古代中国戏剧摆在适当的位置。我一直深信，如果这些学者能够将比较研究视野扩大到古代中国文学，他们就会发现许多新的参考资料，而这些东西将会对由西方批评家所形成的教条原理作出重大修正。这对研究中国古代文学批评史的学者们去研究具体的作品，万为重要。因为只有这样，他们才能懂得我们古代的批评理论与西方有何差异，以及为什么西方批评理论最初不被我们的批评家所利用，反之亦然，这也一直是我对古代文学进行各种探讨的目的。要获得对某些审美经验的充分认识，我们就必须研究外国的文学作品，要充分了解别人的作品，才能充分认识自己的作品。尽管文学研究中的禁欲主义已经错误透顶，然而，拒绝承认来自“拿撒勒”的“好东西”的所谓爱国主义则更不可取。
薛载斌 谭户森 译 伍中文 校
出处：
《中外比较文学的里程碑》，人民文学出版社1997年12月版，第359页至第367页
江城子 密州出猎
老夫聊发少年狂。左牵黄②，右擎苍。锦帽貂裘③，千骑卷平冈。为报倾城随太守④，亲射虎，看孙郎⑤。
酒酣胸胆尚开张。鬓微霜，又何妨。持节⑥云中，何日遣冯唐。会挽雕弓如满月⑦，西北望，射天狼
http://www.ebigear.com 2006-10-02 02:58:27 【打印】
A Riverside Town Hunting at Mizhou Su Shi
老夫聊发少年狂,左牵黄,右擎苍.
锦帽貂裘,千骑卷平冈.
欲报倾城随太守,亲射虎,看孙郎.
酒酣胸胆尚开张,鬓微霜,又何妨!
持节云中,何日遣冯唐?
会挽雕弓如满月,西北望,射天狼.
Rejuvenated, I my fiery zeal display,
On left hand leash, a yellow hound,
On right hand wrist, a falcon gray.
A thousand silk-capped, sable-coated horsemen sweep across the rising ground
And hillocks steep.
Townspeople pour out from the city gate
To watch the tiger-hunting magistrate.
Heart gladdened with strong wine, who cares about a few newly-frosted hairs?
When will the court imperial send me as their envoy?
With flags and banners then I’ll bend my bow like a full moon, and aiming northwest,
I will shoot the fierce Wolf form the sky.
念奴娇 赤壁怀古》
念奴娇 赤壁怀古 苏轼
大江东去,
浪淘尽,千古风流人物.
故垒西边,
人道是,三国周郎赤壁.
乱石穿空,惊涛拍岸,
卷起千堆雪.
江山如画,一时多少豪杰.
遥想公瑾当年.
小乔初嫁了,雄姿英发.
羽扇纶巾,
谈笑间,
樯橹灰飞烟灭.
故国神游,多情应笑我,
早生华发.
人生如梦,一尊还酹江月.
The great river eastward flows, with its waves are gone all those gallant heroes of bygone years.
West of the ancient fortress appears the Red Cliff.
Here General Zhou won his early fame when the Three Kingdoms were all aflame.
Jagged rocks tower in the air, swashing waves beat on the shore, rolling up a thousand heaps of snow.
To match the hills and the river so fair,
How many heroes brave of yore made a great show!
I fancy General Zhou at the height of his success, with a plume fan in hand,
In a silk hood, so brave and bright, laughing and jesting with his bride so fair,
While enemy ships were destroyed as planned like shadowy castles in the air.
Should their souls revisit this land, sentimental, his wife would laugh to say,
Younger than they, I have my hair all turned gray.
Life is but like a passing dream,
I’d drink to the moon which once saw them on the stream.
词·江城子
十年生死两茫茫。
不思量，自难忘。
千里孤坟，无处话凄凉。
纵使相逢应不识，
尘满面，鬓如霜。
夜来幽梦忽还乡。
小轩窗，正梳妆。
相顾无言，惟有泪千行。
料得年年断肠处，
明月夜，短松冈。
苏轼《江城子》\"十年生死两茫茫\"的英文版
美国著名汉学家Burton Watson的译文：
Ten years, dead and living dim and draw apart.
I don\'t try to remember,
But forgetting is hard.
Lonely grave a thousand miles off,
Cold thoughts, where can I talk them out?
Even if we met, you wouldn\'t know me,
Dust on my face,
Hair like frost.
In a dream last night suddenly I was home.
By the window of the little room,
You were combing your hair and making up.
You turned and looked, not speaking,
Only lines of tears coursing down.
Year after year will it break my heart?
The moonlit grave,
The stubby pines.
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水调歌头
丙辰中秋，欢饮达旦，大醉，作此篇，兼怀子由。
明月几时有？把酒问青天。
不知天上宫阙，今夕是何年。
我欲乘风归去，又恐琼楼玉宇，高处不胜寒。
起舞弄清影，何似在人间？
转朱阁，低绮户，照无眠。
不应有恨，何事长向别时圆？
人有悲欢离合，月有阴晴圆缺，此事古难全。
但愿人长久，千里共婵娟。
水调歌头（英文版）
"Thinking of You"
When will the moon be clear and bright?
With a cup of wine in my hand, I ask the blue sky.
I don't know what season it would be in the heavens on this night.
I'd like to ride the wind to fly home.
Yet I fear the crystal and jade mansions are much too high and cold for me.
Dancing with my moon-lit shadow
It does not seem like the human world
The moon rounds the red mansion Stoops to silk-pad doors
Shines upon the sleepless Bearing no grudge
Why does the moon tend to be full when people are apart?
People may have sorrow or joy, be near or far apart
The moon may be dim or bright, wax or wane
This has been going on since the beginning of time
May we all be blessed with longevity Though far apart, we are still able to share the beauty of the moon together.
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