2017年3月30日 星期四

Modernity’s Main Man: Is Anton Chekhov Still Relevant? 胡適譯《短篇小說》契訶夫 CHEKHOV的評價 Rothschild's Fiddle/A Work of Art




As Lisa Rosman pondered the relevance of Anton Chekhov, she tapped the…
SIGNATURE-READS.COM




胡適翻譯過契訶夫的《一件美術品》Rothschild's Fiddle/A Work of Art 

胡適日記全集, 第 6卷 1930-33
1930.8.14 讀 1916 C. E Beechofer 翻譯的俄國戲劇  序中說"Chekov 不是大作家是新聞記者 作品沒永恆的重要  "
胡適嘆"蓋棺定論真不容易" 

hc按: 提到的兩部契訶夫的劇本 似乎都收入 Penguin   Classics 之 CHEKHOV: PLAYS (1954 起)

翻譯不容易,要抓住原著感人的關口更不容易,像是「最後一課」、「柏林之圍」、「梅呂裏」、「決鬥」、「二漁夫」、「殺父母的兒子」、「苦惱」、「米格兒」等,都是令人一唱三嘆的好小說。


短篇小說. 第一集 / 胡適譯
上海 : 亞東圖書館, 民14[1925] 八版


No one has rated this material 說明
短篇小說. 第一集 / 胡適譯 上海 : 亞東圖書館 , 民14[1925]
館藏地 索書號 條碼 狀態 說明
總圖5F楊雲萍文庫 (洽櫃臺調閱) 815.7 8189 1925 v.1 [鄰近架位館藏]

--
出版項
臺北市 : 臺北書局, 民國45
稽核項
120面 ; 19公分.
--
胡适译短篇小说
長沙市 : 岳麓書社, 1987 第1版
台大此書為外文系1993年買的


1919年出版的胡適譯《短篇小說》第一集﹐或可作為其嘗試漢語改革的一個標本。
該書共收十一篇小說和一篇論文。其中﹐用文言翻譯的小說有三篇﹐其餘是白話。論文的語言也是白話。這個比例﹐說明胡適當時已明顯傾向于白話寫作。
他在該書“譯者自序”中說﹐這些小說“不是一時譯的﹐所以有幾篇是用文言譯的﹐現在也來不及改譯了”。如果來得及﹐看來胡適是希望把他譯的短篇小說全部用白話文字提供給讀者。介紹外國名家的名著﹐如都德的《最後一課》﹑莫泊桑的《梅呂哀》﹑契訶夫的《一件美術品》﹑高爾基的《他的情人》﹐等等﹐另外加上論文來作解說。
胡 適說過﹐他極想提倡短篇小說。當時國內短篇小說大概尚未脫離初學階段﹐很多文人不大懂短篇小說是什麼樣子﹐該怎麼寫﹐似乎不夠長篇的小說就是短篇小說﹐而 且有個基本模式。諸如“某生﹐某處人﹐幼負異才……一日﹐游某園﹐遇一女郎﹐睨之﹐天人也……”﹐被胡適斥為“爛調小說”。
《奏樂的小孩》(Henry) Austin Dobson (1840-1921)

The child musician

He had played for his lordship's levee,
He had played for her ladyship's whim,
Till the poor little head was heavy,
And the poor little brain would swim.
And the face grew peaked and eerie,
And the large eyes strange and bright,
And they said -- too late -- "He is weary!
He shall rest for, at least, To-night!"
But at dawn, when the birds were waking,
As they watched in the silent room,
With the sound of a strained cord breaking,
A something snapped in the gloom.
'T was a string of his violoncello,
And they heard him stir in his bed:
-- "Make room for a tired little fellow, Kind God! --"
was the last that he said.


****

A Work of Art by Anton Chekhov
(1860-1904)


Sasha Smirnov, the only son of his mother, holding under his arm, something wrapped up in No. 223 of the Financial News, assumed a sentimental expression, and went into Dr. Koshelkov’s consultingroom.
“Ah, dear lad!” was how the doctor greeted him. “Well! how are we feeling? What good news have you for me?”
Sasha blinked, laid his hand on his heart and said in an agitated voice: “Mamma sends her greetings to you, Ivan Nikolaevitch, and told me to thank you.… I am the only son of my mother and you have saved my life…you have brought me through a dangerous illness and…we do not know how to thank you.”
“Nonsense, lad!” said the doctor, highly delighted. “I only did what anyone else would have done in my place.”
“I am the only son of my mother…we are poor people and cannot of course repay you, and.… we are quite ashamed, doctor, although, however, mamma and I…the only son of my mother, earnestly beg you to accept in token of our gratitude…this object, which…An object of great value, an antique bronze.… A rare work of art.”
“You shouldn’t!” said the doctor, frowning. “What’s this for!”
“No, please do not refuse,” Sasha went on muttering as he unpacked the parcel. “You will wound mamma and me by refusing.… It’s a fine thing…an antique bronze.… It was left us by my deceased father and we have kept it as a precious souvenir. My father used to buy antique bronzes and sell them to connoisseurs…Mamma and I keep on the business now.…”
Sasha undid the object and put it solemnly on the table. It was a not very tall candelabra of old bronze and artistic workmanship. It consisted of a group: on the pedestal stood two female figures in the costume of Eve and in attitudes for the description of which I have neither the courage nor the fitting temperament. The figures were smiling coquettishly and altogether looked as though, had it not been for the necessity of supporting the candlestick, they would have skipped off the pedestal and have indulged in an orgy such as is improper for the reader even to imagine.
Looking at the present, the doctor slowly scratched behind his ear, cleared his throat and blew his nose irresolutely.
“Yes, it certainly is a fine thing,” he muttered, “but…how shall I express it?…it’s…h’m…it’s not quite for family reading. It’s not simply decolleté but beyond anything, dash it all.…”
“How do you mean?”
“The serpent-tempter himself could not have invented anything worse.… Why, to put such a phantasmagoria on the table would be defiling the whole flat.”
“What a strange way of looking at art, doctor!” said Sasha, offended. “Why, it is an artistic thing, look at it! There is so much beauty and elegance that it fills one’s soul with a feeling of reverence and brings a lump into one’s throat! When one sees anything so beautiful one forgets everything earthly.… Only look, how much movement, what an atmosphere, what expression!”
“I understand all that very well, my dear boy,” the doctor interposed, “but you know I am a family man, my children run in here, ladies come in.”
“Of course if you look at it from the point of view of the crowd,” said Sasha, “then this exquisitely artistic work may appear in a certain light.… But, doctor, rise superior to the crowd, especially as you will wound mamma and me by refusing it. I am the only son of my mother, you have saved my life.… We are giving you the thing most precious to us and…and I only regret that I have not the pair to present to you.…”
“Thank you, my dear fellow, I am very grateful…Give my respects to your mother but really consider, my children run in here, ladies come.… However, let it remain! I see there’s no arguing with you.”
“And there is nothing to argue about,” said Sasha, relieved. “Put the candlestick here, by this vase. What a pity we have not the pair to it! It is a pity! Well, good-bye, doctor.”
After Sasha’s departure the doctor looked for a long time at the candelabra, scratched behind his ear and meditated.
“It’s a superb thing, there’s no denying it,” he thought, “and it would be a pity to throw it away.… But it’s impossible for me to keep it.… H’m!…Here’s a problem! To whom can I make a present of it, or to what charity can I give it?”
After long meditation he thought of his good friend, the lawyer Uhov, to whom he was indebted for the management of legal business.
“Excellent,” the doctor decided, “it would be awkward for him as a friend to take money from me, and it will be very suitable for me to present him with this. I will take him the devilish thing! Luckily he is a bachelor and easy-going.”
Without further procrastination the doctor put on his hat and coat, took the candelabra and went off to Uhov’s.
“How are you, friend!” he said, finding the lawyer at home. “I’ve come to see you…to thank you for your efforts.… You won’t take money so you must at least accept this thing here.… See, my dear fellow.… The thing is magnificent!”
On seeing the bronze the lawyer was moved to indescribable delight.
“What a specimen!” he chuckled. “Ah, deuce take it, to think of them imagining such a thing, the devils! Exquisite! Ravishing! Where did you get hold of such a delightful thing?”
After pouring out his ecstasies the lawyer looked timidly towards the door and said: “Only you must carry off your present, my boy.… I can’t take it.…”
“Why?” cried the doctor, disconcerted.
“Why…because my mother is here at times, my clients…besides I should be ashamed for my servants to see it.”
“Nonsense! Nonsense! Don’t you dare to refuse!” said the doctor, gesticulating. “It’s piggish of you! It’s a work of art!… What movement…what expression! I won’t even talk of it! You will offend me!”
“If one could plaster it over or stick on fig-leaves…”
But the doctor gesticulated more violently than before, and dashing out of the flat went home, glad that he had succeeded in getting the present off his hands.
When he had gone away the lawyer examined the candelabra, fingered it all over, and then, like the doctor, racked his brains over the question what to do with the present.
“It’s a fine thing,” he mused, “and it would be a pity to throw it away and improper to keep it. The very best thing would be to make a present of it to someone.… I know what! I’ll take it this evening to Shashkin, the comedian. The rascal is fond of such things, and by the way it is his benefit tonight.”
No sooner said than done. In the evening the candelabra, carefully wrapped up, was duly carried to Shashkin’s. The whole evening the comic actor’s dressing-room was besieged by men coming to admire the present; dressing-room was filled with the hum of enthusiasm and laughter like the neighing of horses. If one of the actresses approached the door and asked: “May I come in?” the comedian’s husky voice was heard at once: “No, no, my dear, I am not dressed!”
After the performance the comedian shrugged his shoulders, flung up his hands and said: “Well what am I to do with the horrid thing? Why, I live in a private flat! Actresses come and see me! It’s not a photograph that you can put in a drawer!”
“You had better sell it, sir,” the hairdresser who was disrobing the actor advised him. “There’s an old woman living about here who buys antique bronzes. Go and enquire for Madame Smirnov…everyone knows her.”
The actor followed his advice.… Two days later the doctor was sitting in his consulting-room, and with his finger to his brow was meditating on the acids of the bile. All at once the door opened and Sasha Smirnov flew into the room. He was smiling, beaming, and his whole figure was radiant with happiness. In his hands he held something wrapped up in newspaper.
“Doctor!” he began breathlessly, “imagine my delight! Happily for you we have succeeded in picking up the pair to your candelabra! Mamma is so happy.… I am the only son of my mother, you saved my life.…”
And Sasha, all of a tremor with gratitude, set the candelabra before the doctor. The doctor opened his mouth, tried to say something, but said nothing: he could not speak.



胡適譯 洛斯奇爾的提琴 收入《短篇小說》第二集 中的這篇 之前他讀過十幾次 越讀越覺得他可愛(1923年7月13)
胡適譯《短篇小說》第二集
這篇 幾年中 他讀過十幾次
不知道是否根據此文翻譯的

[Translated by Marian Fell, Russian Silhouettes: More Stories of Russian Life, copyright 1915, Charles Scribner's Sons. As reprinted in the Norton Critical Edition paperback, Anton Chekhov's Short Stories, selected and edited by Ralph E. Matlaw, New York: W. W. Norton & Company, ISBN 0-393-09002-7, PZ3.C3985Cg 1979 [PG3456.A15] 891.7'3'3, 78-17052, pages 97-106. The translation of this story used in the Great Books discussion group I is superior, but is copyrighted by Ronald Hingley and so not given here.]

By Anton Chekhov


Rothschild's Fiddle


IT WAS  a tiny town, worse than a village, inhabited chiefly by old people who so seldom died that it was really vexatious.  Very few coffins were needed for the hospital and the jail; in a word, business was bad.  If Yakov Ivanov had been a maker of coffins in the county  town, he would probably have owned a house of his own by now, and would have been called Mr. Ivanov, but here in this little place he was simply called Yakov, and for some reason his nickname was Bronze.  He lived as poorly as any common peasant in a little old hut of one room, in which he and Martha, and the stove, and a double bed, and the coffins, and his joiner's bench, and all the necessities of housekeeping were stowed away. 
The coffins made by Yakov were serviceable and strong. For the peasants and townsfolk he made them to fit himself and never went wrong, for, although he was seventy years old, there was no man, not even in the prison, any taller or stouter than he was. For the gentry and for women he made them to measure, using an iron yardstick for the purpose. He was always very reluctant to take orders for children's coffins, and made them contemptuously without taking any measurements at all, always saying when he was paid for them:
"The fact is, I don't like to be bothered with trifles."
Beside what he received for his work as a joiner, he added a little to his income by playing the violin. There was a Jewish orchestra in the town that played for weddings, led by the tinsmith Moses Shakess, who took more than half of its earnings for himself. As Yakov played the fiddle extremely well, especially Russian songs, Shakess used sometimes to invite him to play in his orchestra for the sum of fifty kopeks a day, not including the presents he might receive from the guests. Whenever Bronze took his seat in the orchestra, the first thing that happened to him was that his face grew red, and the perspiration streamed from it, for the air was always hot, and reeking of garlic to the point of suffocation. Then his fiddle would begin to moan, and a double bass would croak hoarsely into his right ear, and a flute would weep into his left. This flute was played by a gaunt, red-bearded Jew with a network of red and blue veins on his face, who bore the name of a famous rich man, Rothschild. This confounded Jew always contrived to play even the merriest tunes sadly. For no obvious reason Yakov little by little began to conceive a feeling of hatred and contempt for all Jews, and especially for Rothschild. He quarrelled with him and abused him in ugly language, and once even tried to beat him, but Rothschild took offense at this, and cried with a fierce look:
"If I had not always respected you for your music, I should have thrown you out of the window long ago!"
Then he burst into tears. So after that Bronze was not often invited to play in the orchestra, and was only called upon in cases of dire necessity, when one of the Jews was missing.
Yakov was never in a good humor, because he always had to endure the most terrible losses. For instance, it was a sin to work on a Sunday or a holiday, and Monday was always a bad day, so in that way there were about two hundred days a year in which he was compelled to sit with his hands folded in his lap. That was a great loss to him. If any one in town had a wedding without music, or if Shakess did not ask him to play, there was another loss. The police inspector had lain ill with consumption for two years while Yakov impatiently waited for him to die, and then had gone to take a cure in the city and had died there, which of course had meant another loss of at least ten rubles, as the coffin would have been an expensive one lined with brocade.
The thought of his losses worried Yakov at night more than at any other time, so he used to lay his fiddle at his side on the bed, and when those worries came trooping into his brain he would touch the strings, and the fiddle would give out a sound in the darkness, and Yakov's heart would feel lighter.
Last year on the sixth of May, Martha suddenly fell ill. The old woman breathed with difficulty, staggered in her walk, and felt terribly thirsty. Nevertheless, she got up that morning, lit the stove, and even went for the water. When evening came she went to bed. Yakov played his fiddle all day. When it grew quite dark, because he had nothing better to do, he took the book in which he kept an account of his losses, and began adding up the total for the year. They amounted to more than a thousand rubles. He was so shaken by this discovery that he threw the counting board on the floor and trampled in under foot. Then he picked it up again and rattled it once more for a long time, heaving as he did so sighs both deep and long. His face grew purple, and perspiration dripped from his brow. He was thinking that if those thousand rubles he had lost had been in the bank then, he would have had at least forty rubles interest by the end of the year. So those forty rubles were still another loss! In a word, wherever he turned he found losses and nothing but losses.
"Yakov!" cried Martha unexpectedly, "I am dying!"
He looked round at his wife. Her face was flushed with fever and looked unusually joyful and bright. Bronze was troubled, for he had been accustomed to seeing her pale and timid and unhappy. It seemed to him that she was actually dead, and glad to have left this hut, and the coffins, and Yakov at last. She was staring at the ceiling, with her lips moving as if she saw her deliverer Death approaching and were whispering with him.
The dawn was just breaking and the eastern sky was glowing with a faint radiance. As he stared at the old woman it somehow seemed to Yakov that he had never once spoken a tender word to her or pitied her; that he had never thought of buying her a kerchief or of bringing her back some sweets from a wedding. On the contrary, he had shouted at her and abused her for his losses, and had shaken his fist at her. It was true he had never beaten her, but he had frightened her no less, and she had been paralyzed with fear every time he had scolded her. Yes, and he had not allowed her to drink tea because his losses were heavy enough as it was, so she had had to be content with hot water. Now he understood why her face looked so strangely happy, and horror overwhelmed him.
As soon as it was light he borrowed a horse from a neighbor and took Martha to the hospital. As there were not many patients, he had not to wait very long--only about three hours. To his great satisfaction it was not the doctor who was receiving the sick that day, but his assistant, Maxim Nikolaich, an old man of whom it was said that although he quarreled and drank, he knew more than the doctor did.
"Good morning, Your Honor," said Yakov leading his old woman into the office. "Excuse us for intruding upon you with our trifling affairs. As you see, this subject has fallen ill. My life's friend, if you will allow me to use the expression----"
Knitting his gray eyebrows and stroking his whiskers, the doctor's assistant fixed his eyes on the old woman. She was sitting all in a heap on a low stool, and with her thin, long-nosed face and her open mouth, she looked like a thirsty bird.
"Well, well-yes--" said the doctor slowly, heaving a sigh. "This is a case of influenza and possibly fever; there is typhoid in town. What's to be done? The old woman has lived her span of years, thank God. How old is she?"
"She lacks one year of being seventy, Your Honor."
"Well, well, she has lived long. There must come an end to everything."
"You are certainly right, Your Honor," said Yakov, smiling out of politeness. "And we thank you sincerely for your kindness, but allow me to suggest to you that even an insect dislikes to die!"
"Never mind if it does!" answered the doctor, as if the life or death of the old woman lay in his hands. "I'll tell you what you must do, my good man. Put a cold bandage around her head, and give her two of these powders a day. Now then, good-bye! Bonjour!"
Yakov saw by the expression on the doctor's face that it was too late now for powders. He realized clearly that Martha must die very soon, if not today, then tomorrow. He touched the doctor's elbow gently, blinked, and whispered:
"She ought to be cupped, doctor!"
"I haven't time, I haven't time, my good man. Take your old woman and go, in God's name. Good-bye."
"Please, please, cup her, doctor!" begged Yakov. "You know yourself that if she had a pain in her stomach, powders and drops would do her good, but she has a cold! The first thing to do when one catches cold is to let some blood, doctor!"
But the doctor had already sent for the next patient, and a woman leading a little boy came into the room.
"Go along, go along!" he cried to Yakov, frowning. "It's no use making a fuss!"
"Then at least put some leeches on her! Let me pray to God for you for the rest of my life!"
The doctor's temper flared up and he shouted:
"Don't say another word to me, blockhead!"
Yakov lost his temper, too, and flushed hotly, but he said nothing and, silently taking Martha's arm, led her out of the office. Only when they were once more seated in their wagon did he look fiercely and mockingly at the hospital and say:
"They're a pretty lot in there, they are! That doctor would have cupped a rich man, but he even begrudged a poor one a leech. The pig!"
When they returned to the hut, Martha stood for nearly ten minutes supporting herself by the stove. She felt that if she lay down Yakov would begin to talk to her about his losses, and would scold her for lying down and not wanting to work. Yakov contemplated her sadly, thinking that tomorrow was St. John the Baptist's day, and day after tomorrow was St. Nicholas the Wonder-Worker's day, and that the following day would be Sunday, and the day after that would be Monday, a bad day for work. So he would not be able to work for four days, and as Martha would probably die on one of these days, the coffin would have to be made at once. He took his iron yardstick in hand, went up to the old woman, and measured her. Then she lay down, and he crossed himself and went to work on the coffin.
When the task was completed Bronze put on his spectacles and wrote in his book:
"For 1 coffin for Martha Ivanov--2 rubles, 40 kopeks."
He sighed. All day the old woman lay silent with closed eyes, but toward evening, when the daylight began to fade, she suddenly called the old man to her side.
"Do you remember, Yakov?" she asked. "Do you remember how fifty years ago God gave us a little baby with curly golden hair? Do you remember how you and I used to sit on the bank of the river and sing songs under the willow tree?" Then with a bitter smile she added: "The baby died."
Yakov racked his brains, but for the life of him he could not recall the child or the willow tree.
"You are dreaming," he said.
The priest came and administered the Sacrament and Extreme Unction. Then Martha began muttering unintelligibly, and toward morning she died.
The neighboring old women washed her and dressed her, and laid her in her coffin. To avoid paying the deacon, Yakov read the psalms over her himself, and her grave cost him nothing as the watchman of the cemetery was his cousin. Four peasants carried the coffin to the grave, not for money but for love. The old women, the beggars, and two village idiots followed the body, and the people whom they passed on the way crossed themselves devoutly. Yakov was very glad that everything had passed off so nicely and decently and cheaply, without giving offense to any one. As he said farewell to Martha for the last time he touched the coffin with his hand and thought:
"That's a fine job!"
But walking homeward from the cemetery he was seized with great distress. He felt ill, his breath was burning hot, his legs grew weak, and he longed for a drink. Beside this, a thousand thoughts came crowding into his head. He remembered again that he had never once pitied Martha or said a tender word to her. The fifty years of their life together lay stretched far, far behind him, and somehow, during all that time, he had never once thought about her at all or noticed her more than if she had been a dog or a cat. And vet she had lit the stove every day, and had cooked and baked and fetched water and chopped wood, and when he had come home drunk from a wedding she had hung his fiddle reverently on a nail each time, and had silently put him to bed with a timid, anxious look on her face.
But here came Rothschild toward him, bowing and scraping and smiling.
"I have been looking for you, uncle!" he said. "Moses Shakess presents his compliments and wants you to go to him at once."
Yakov did not feel in a mood to do anything. He wanted to crv.
"Leave me alone!" he exclaimed, and walked on.
"Oh, how can you say that?" cried Rothschild, running beside him in alarm. "Moses will be very angry. He wants you to come at once!"
Yakov was disgusted by the panting of the Jew, by his blinking eves, and by the quantities of reddish freckles on his face. He looked with aversion at his long green coat and at the whole of his frail, delicate figure.
"What do you mean by pestering me, garlic?" he shouted. "Get away!"
The Jew grew angry and shouted back:
"Don't yell at me like that or I'll send you flying over that fence!"
"Get out of my sight!" bellowed Yakov, shaking his fist at him. "There's no living in the same town with mangy curs like you!"
Rothschild was petrified with terror. He sank to the ground and waved his hands over his head as if to protect himself from falling blows; then he jumped up and ran away as fast as his legs could carry him. As he ran he leaped and waved his arms, and his long, gaunt back could be seen quivering. The little boys were delighted at what had happened, and ran after him screaming: "Jew, Jew!" The dogs also joined barking in the chase. Somebody laughed and then whistled, at which the dogs barked louder and more vigorously than ever.
Then one of them must have bitten Rothschild, for a piteous, despairing scream rent the air.
Yakov walked across the common to the edge of the town without knowing where he was going, and the little boys shouted after him. "There goes old man Bronze! There goes old man Bronze!" He found himself by the river where the snipe were darting about with shrill cries, and the ducks were quacking and swimming to and fro. The sun was shining fiercely and the water was sparkling so brightly that it was painful to look at. Yakov struck into a path that led along the riverbank. lIe came to a stout, red-checked woman just leaving a bath-house. "Aha, you otter, you!" he thought. Not far from the bath-house some little boys were fishing for crabs with pieces of meat. When they saw Yakov they shouted mischievously: "Old man Bronze! Old man Bronze!" But there before him stood an ancient, spreading willow tree with a massive trunk, and a crow's nest among its branches. Suddenly there flashed across Yakov's memory with all the vividness of life a little child with golden curls, and the willow of which Martha had spoken. Yes, this was the same tree, so green and peaceful and sad. How old it had grown, poor thing!
He sat down at its foot and thought of the past. On the opposite shore, where that meadow now was, there had stood in those days a wood of tall birch-trees, and that bare hill on the horizon yonder had been covered with the blue bloom of an ancient pine forest. And sailboats had plied the river then, but now all lay smooth and still, and only one little birch-tree was left on the opposite bank, a graceful young thing, like a girl, while on the river there swam only ducks and geese. It was hard to believe that boats had once sailed there. It even seemed to him that there were fewer geese now than there had been. Yakov shut his eyes, and one by one white geese came flying toward him, an endless flock.
He was puzzled to know why he had never once been down to the river during the last forty or fifty years of his life, or, if he had been there, why he had never paid any attention to it. The stream was fine and large; he might have fished in it and sold the fish to the merchants and the government officials and the restaurant-keeper at the station, and put the money in the bank. He might have rowed in a boat from farm to farm and played on his fiddle. People of every rank would have paid him money to hear him. He might have tried to run a boat on the river, that would have been better than making coffins. Finally, he might have raised geese, and killed them, and sent them to Moscow in the winter. Why, the down alone would have brought him ten rubles a year! But he had missed all these chances and had done nothing. What losses were here! Ah, what terrible losses! And, oh, if he had only done all these things at the same time! If he had only fished, and played the fiddle, and sailed a boat, and raised geese, what capital he would have had by now! But he had not even dreamed of doing all this; his life had gone by without profit or pleasure. It had been lost for nothing, not even a trifle. Nothing was left ahead; behind lay only losses, and such terrible losses that he shuddered to think of them. But why shouldn't men live so as to avoid all this waste and these losses? Why, oh why, should those birch and pine forests have been felled? Why should those meadows be lying so deserted? Why did people always do exactly what they ought not to do? Why had Yakov scolded and growled and clenched his fists and hurt his wife's feelings all his life? Why, oh why, had he frightened and insulted that Jew just now? Why did people in general always interfere with one another? What losses resulted from this! What terrible losses! If it were not for envy and anger they would get great profit from one another.
All that evening and night Yakov dreamed of the child, of the willow tree, of the fish and the geese, of Martha with her profile like a thirsty bird, and of Rothschild's pale, piteous mien. Queer faces seemed to be moving toward him from all sides, muttering to him about his losses. He tossed from side to side, and got up five times during the night to play his fiddle.
He rose with difficulty next morning, and walked to the hospital. The same doctor's assistant ordered him to put cold bandages on his head, and gave him little powders to take; by his expression and the tone of his voice Yakov knew that the state of affairs was bad, and that no powders could save him now. As he walked home he reflected that one good thing would result from his death: he would no longer have to eat and drink and pay taxes, neither would he offend people anymore, and, as a man lies in his grave for hundreds of thousands of years, the sum of his profits would be immense. So, life to a man was a loss--death, a gain. Of course this reasoning was correct, but it was also distressingly sad. Why should the world be so strangely arranged that a man's life, which was only given to him once, must pass without profit?
He was not sorry then that he was going to die, but when he reached home, and saw his fiddle, his heart ached, and he regretted it deeply. He would not be able to take his fiddle with him into the grave, and now it would be left an orphan, and its fate would be that of the birch grove and the pine forest. Everything in the world had been lost, and would always be lost for ever. Yakov went out and sat on the threshold of his hut, clasping his fiddle to his breast. And as he thought of his life so full of waste and losses he began playing without knowing how piteous and touching his music was, and the tears streamed down his cheeks. And the more he thought the more sorrowfully sang his violin.
The latch clicked and Rothschild came in through the garden gate, and walked boldly halfway across the garden. Then he suddenly stopped, crouched down, and, probably from fear, began making signs with his hands as if he were trying to show on his fingers what time it was.
"Come on, don't be afraid!" said Yakov gently, beckoning him to advance. "Come on!"
With many mistrustful and fearful glances Rothschild went slowly up to Yakov, and stopped about two yards away.
"Please don't beat me!" he said with a ducking bow. "Moses Shakess has sent me to you again. 'Don't be afraid,' he said, 'go to Yakov,' says he, 'and say that we can't possibly manage without him.' There is a wedding next Thursday. Ye-es sir. Mr. Shapovalov is marrying his daughter to a very fine man. It will be an expensive wedding, ai, ai!" added the Jew with a wink.
"I can't go" said Yakov breathing hard. "I'm ill, brother."
And he began to play again, and the tears gushed out of his eyes over his fiddle. Rothschild listened intently with his head turned away and his arms folded on his breast. The startled, irresolute look on his face gradually gave way to one of suffering and grief. He cast up his eyes as if in an ecstasy of agony and murmured: "Okh-okh!" And the tears began to trickle slowly down his cheeks, and to drip over his green coat.
All day Yakov lay and suffered. When the priest came in the evening to administer the Sacrament he asked him if he could not think of any particular sin.
Struggling with his fading memories, Yakov recalled once more Martha's sad face, and the despairing cry of the Jew when the dog had bitten him. He murmured almost inaudibly:
"Give my fiddle to Rothschild."
''It shall be done," answered the priest.
So it happened that everyone in the little town began asking:
"Where did Rothschild get that good fiddle? Did he buy it or steal it or get it out of a pawnshop?"
Rothschild has long since abandoned his flute, and now only plays on the violin. The same mournful notes flow from under his bow that used to come from his flute, and when he tries to repeat what Yakov played as he sat on the threshold of his hut, the result is an air so plaintive and sad that everyone who hears him weeps, and he himself at last raises his eyes and murmurs: "Okh-okh!" And this new song has so delighted the town that the merchants and government officials vie with each other in getting Rothschild to come to their houses, and sometimes make him play it ten times in succession.





2017年3月25日 星期六

胡適之先生的‘一本萬利’,永遠有利息在人間的哲學:林語堂、彭明敏、陳之藩......

 這篇忘了記胡先生對彭明敏(1923年8月15日-)的資助、提拔。我們四年前謁墓,彭先生的獻花已在。


2012.3.1胡適資助過林語堂、彭明敏、陳之藩、魯迅的三弟周建人等
林語堂去美國哈佛大學留學時,每月能得到40美圓的“半額獎學金”,他以為這是因為曾在清華教過書,是庚款的捐助。林語堂曾兩次得到以北京大學名義匯款的保證金,各1000銀圓;他回國之後,才從校長那裏知道——這原是胡適個人對他的資助!林語堂在《八十自敘》中寫道:

當然啦,我曾有胡適博士作保,和北京大學接觸過。……我曾兩度由他作保匯支一千大洋。不過胡適沒有向北京大學提款,而是自掏腰包資助我。我回國才知道這個秘密。我去找校長蔣夢麟,感謝他借支兩千大洋。蔣博士詫異地說:“什麽兩千大洋? 是胡適自掏腰包。”我才知道胡適真夠朋友!遂在年底前還清了
這類似的說法,可參考林語堂在【讀者文摘】寫"我最難忘的人物 胡適博士"  (1963年10月號)。
".....但是我門永遠記得胡先生對朋友的這份"無聲援助""



林語堂故居林語堂故居
[故居活動│胡適X林語堂🤝]
語堂曾說:沒有第二個中外名人可與胡適媲美
有人因趣味相投而結為摯友
也有人因性格互補而成為朋友
適之和語堂的友情可謂是兩者並存
從去偽飾、存忠誠的相處中,
他們透過真誠道出彼此間最真摯的友誼,
延續至五十五年後的今天
胡適X林語堂的友情故事
不只在胡適紀念館 Hu Shih Memorial Hall 看的到喔













此外,1921年魯迅的三弟、尚未成名的周建人,也是由胡適推薦去商務印書館,月薪60銀圓(合今人民幣2400元)。
再如,胡適曾借給青年學子陳之藩一張400美金的支票,資助他去美國留學。後來陳之藩匯款還給胡適並寫信致謝。胡適在1957年10月15日 回信說:

之藩兄,
謝謝你的Oct. 11的來信和支票。
其實你不應該這樣急於還此四百元。我借出的錢,從來不盼望收回,因為我知道我借出的錢總是‘一本萬利’,永遠有利息在人間的。
你報告我的學校情形,我聽了非常興奮。我二十歲時初讀新約,到"耶穌在山上看見大眾前來,他大感動,說' 收成是豐盛的可惜做工的人太少了。' "---我不覺掉下淚來。那時我想起論語裏,'士不可不弘毅,重而道遠。"那一段話馬太福音此段相似。
你所謂"第一次嘗到教書之樂"其實也是這樣的心理。是不是?......

(陳之藩回顧:“每讀這封信時,並不落淚,而是自己想洗個澡。因為我從來沒有過這種澄明的見解與這樣廣闊的心胸。”)

李敖年青時生胡適也曾資助過他。( 2004? 待查 )李敖來北京大學的時候,捐錢想給胡適立個銅像。李敖說:“你別看他總在笑,我想,胡適之是寂寞的。”

使美的時候 劉楷幫胡先生匯錢給某些文人
胡先生特別提醒要不傷對方知自尊



胡適
愛謀生 (EMERSON):" 朋友的交情把他的目的物當作神聖看待 要使他的朋友和她自己都變成神聖"

2017年3月19日 星期日

協和 、李宗恩(1894—1962)、美國洛克菲勒基金會、胡適。章詒和專文:貌似一樣憐才曲,句句都是斷腸聲


http://www.storm.mg/article/234809

章詒和專文:貌似一樣憐才曲,句句都是斷腸聲


章詒和 2017年03月19日 06:30 風傳媒


一九五六年十月三十日,李宗恩(右中背面站立者)聽取照顧孫中山最後時日的護士何芬(左四,正面中)講述中山先生在這間病房醫治的情況。





2012年9月22日,我應私人邀請參加李宗恩先生(1894—1962)誕辰120周年座談會。走進北京東單三條「協和」老樓會議室,我很吃驚:牆上無條幅,桌上無鮮花,室內沒有服務員,室外沒有簽到簿。靜悄悄的,乃至冷清。咋啦?座談會的規格低到無規格。唯一吸引人的地方是與會者,清一色銀髮老人,人人衣冠整潔,個個舉止得體。我掃了一眼,只認得蔣彥永先生。





他見我,即問:「『協和』請你了嗎?」


答:「我是受李家親屬之邀。」


又問:「你認識李宗恩?」





又答:「 我不認識,父母認識。李宗恩劃為『右派』,是因為父母的緣故。所以一定要來。」


會議開始,先播放視頻,內容是一位元記者的隨機採訪——把當下「協和」的頭頭腦腦,上上下下,都採訪到了。問的問題只有一個:「你知道李宗恩嗎?」


回答也只有一個:「不知道。」


我看過一本寫「協和」往事的書,洋洋灑灑數十萬言,涉及李宗恩的文字寥寥數語。顯然,這是一個被時代遺忘的人,也是被「協和」忽略的人。為什麼「忽略」、「遺忘」?因為他是舊社會協和醫學院第一個握有實權的華人院長[1],更因為他是1957年醫藥界最大的右派分子。


會議的主持人是現任美國洛克菲勒中華醫學基金會(Chinese Medical Board)主席,瑪麗・布朗・布拉克女士(Mary Brown Bullock),她從大洋彼岸飛抵北京,就是專程來主持這個紀念會,並做演講。盡人皆知,美國洛克菲勒基金會在中國的一個創舉,就是建立協和醫學院及其附屬醫院。1916年協和醫學院選址動工,1921年落成並正式命名。醫學界人士很清楚:在那個時代,美國約翰•霍普金斯大學醫學院代表著國際醫學最高水準,協和醫學院正是以約翰•霍普金斯大學醫學院為「藍本」,教學、臨床、科研三位一體,從總體架構到具體標準,一切向它看齊,模擬仿照過來的。北京協和醫學院(及其附屬醫院)是洛氏基金在20世紀上半葉對華(單項)援助出資最大、時間最長的項目。令人欣慰的是所有的援助與付出,都沒有白費。幾十年間,「協和」(即北京協和醫學院及其附屬醫院之簡稱)在中國開創了八年制臨床醫學教育、高等護理學教育之先河,在培養醫生,建設醫院以及醫學研究等方面成績斐然,很快成為亞洲醫學和研究方法的最高標準,對日本、印度的高等醫學院也都產生了不小的影響。太平洋戰爭爆發,「協和」被日軍佔領,受到嚴重破壞。戰爭剛結束,中國國民政府行政院長宋子文立即致函洛氏基金會,要求儘快恢復「協和」的一切工作和專案。當時的基金會董事長小約翰•洛克菲勒在回函中說:「協和醫學院的工作是我們皇冠上最明亮的鑽石,我們有最強烈的義務繼續支持中國的現代醫學。」





1921年9月北京協和醫院落成典禮後全體人員合影。(取自協和醫院官網)


在1946年基金會再派考察團赴華,根據需要由中華醫學基金會再撥款1000萬美元。由當時的「協和」董事長胡適任命李宗恩為協和醫學院院長。
家世


光緒二十年(1894)中秋(9月10日),一個男嬰降生在江蘇武進縣青果巷內一個士大夫家庭。祖父給剛剛出世的長子長孫起名「宗恩」。嬰兒的父親叫李祖年,恩科中進士二甲八名。高中後,被欽點翰林院庶吉士。


1902年,李祖年在益都(清州)做知縣,開辦了當地第一所新式小學。為了號召當地士紳把孩子送進新式小學,帶頭把李宗恩放在那裡受業。


1909年,李宗恩入上海震旦大學學法語,那年他16歲。


1911年,李祖年出任山西財政廳廳長。喪偶不久的他,決定讓18歲的兒子赴英國留學。李宗恩剪了辮子,上了海輪。對於留洋,他沒有一般年輕人的遠大抱負和熱烈憧憬,只是說:「十八歲時,我偶然地出了國。當時並未想到我為何出洋。到了英國,因為官費是指定給學醫的人,我就學了醫。及至學了醫也就安心讀書,安心做事;等到後來想到該回家的時候已經近三十歲了。」


1913年,李宗恩進入英國著名格拉斯哥大學醫學院。七年間的學習課程依次為:植物學, 動物學,物理,化學,解剖學,生理學,藥物治療,病理學,法醫,公共衛生學,外科,臨床外科,內科,內科實習,產科。保存至今的格拉斯哥大學檔案裡,注明李宗恩就讀期間獲臨床內科二等獎、年級第十三名。之後,他赴倫敦熱帶病學院,在Dr. Leiper的指導下工作,很快獲得熱帶病/公共衛生證書,還幸運地參加了英國皇家絲蟲病委員會赴西印度的熱帶病考察。


1923年,李宗恩在格拉斯哥格西部醫院(the Western Infirmary)做住院醫生,工作出色。一位醫生(Dr. Cathcart)談及對李宗恩的印象,說:「他非常有人格魅力,所有的人都很喜歡他。他工作上能吃苦而有責任心。」在英國,李宗恩興趣廣泛,和一些中國留學生一起創建了留英同學會。


30歲的時候,李宗恩覺得自己該回家了。去接他的兩個弟弟覺得大哥果真與眾不同,尤其是那副眼鏡,既無「腳」,也無「框」,鏡片是靠一個金屬夾子夾在鼻樑上的。在其攜帶書箱裡,除醫學方面的典籍文獻,還有英國文學作品以及探討社會問題的著作。李宗恩此番回國,還與感情問題相關。出國時他與表妹何晉訂婚,留學期間與一個英國女同學相愛。在父親家書「歸國完婚」的催促下,他考慮再三,向異國女子陳述了自己的家庭狀況與尷尬處境,終獲諒解。此後的數十年間,遠隔重洋的情誼並未中斷,始終隨身保留著英國女友的信件。


李宗恩先到達上海,而他要去的地方是北京,因為北京有個「協和」。他這樣說:「我不願依附家庭,希望脫離家庭而獨立。北京的『協和』是當時全國設備最充實的一個醫學校,我認為它適合我個人的志願和興趣……」


1927年初夏,李祖年突然去世,丟下續弦和三個孩子。李宗恩從北方趕回老家。辦完喪事,他建議繼母帶著年幼三個弟妹去北京與他同住。毅然決然地承擔起長子的責任,這給了新寡的繼母極大的安慰。


在「協和」從醫從教,李宗恩各方面表現非凡,專業出眾,且具備良好的管理能力。 當時的副院長狄瑞德醫生在備忘錄裡,這樣寫道:「我認為李醫生是內科中國醫生中最有前途的一位。他在臨床和研究方面表現出不同凡響的能力,我相信,他是那種不但在自己的專業上出類拔萃,而且可以影響而帶動其他人。我深知,在『協和』的年輕中國人裡,他是最值得鼓勵和支持的一位。」李宗恩從助教、講師、副教授擢升至襄教授。他以深廣的內科學識、豐富的臨床經驗和誨人不倦的責任感,贏得了學生們的敬佩。1937年,李宗恩由於「在臨床、教學、和研究方面出色的能力」,被中國醫學基金會任命為講師。


1937年7月,日軍炮轟宛平城。也就在7月的第一個星期,國民政府教育部王世傑部長邀請協和醫院的李宗恩、北平護士學校的楊崇瑞校長(協和醫院婦產科專家),武漢大學的湯佩松教授和在南京工作的朱章賡(教育部醫學教育委員會常務委員兼秘書、公共衛生專家)四人,一起討論,決定在武漢大學成立一個醫學院,並指派他們為籌備人。但因華北形勢動盪,會議草草結束,各自回原校分頭籌備。


「八一三」以後,抗戰全面展開。經淞滬血戰,上海淪陷,戰線隨之西移,抗戰形勢趨緊。李宗恩接到通知:教育部決定將正在籌備的武漢大學醫學院改建到更為安全的大西南,成立國立貴陽醫學院,以接納從華北及其他敵佔區退下的醫學院學生。該院的籌建仍由李、湯、楊、朱負責。11月19日,李宗恩離開北京。12月31日,教育部下達聘書,聘請這四位醫學專家為貴陽醫學院籌備委員,李宗恩為籌備委員會主任委員。

經過緊張籌備,1938年3月1日, 國立貴陽醫學院宣告成立,教育部正式聘任李宗恩為院長。校方順利地租賃了別墅、會館以及寺院,經過修繕,6月1日貴陽醫學院正式上課。自籌備委員會成立以來,在漢口、重慶、長沙、西安、貴陽五處設立招生處,共收容戰區退出的失學醫學生及護士助產士學生計三百餘人,他們來自三十餘所院校。學生們年級不同,學業參差不齊,故採取分班教學,實行類似協和的導師制。導師及受導學生的分配,在每學年開始後二周內由訓導處公佈,導師負責受導學生學習、生活之責。這種導師制十分有效,一直延續到1949年。一個學生曾這樣形容在貴醫的讀書生涯:「開辦之初,設備簡陋,沒有甚多的教室,而致解剖學在院子裡上課,把人體骨骼掛在樹枝上講演。一些教室也是臨時搭成的茅屋。下大雨的時候,教室寢室往往變成澤國,沒有自修室,在飯廳裡自修,每人發凳子一張,上實習,上自修,背著凳子到處跑。天晴的時候,還好,一逢下雨,泥濘三尺,真有『行不得也』之苦。一年級宿舍是在山上,離教室有半公里左右。晚間自修完了回去,不但要摸黑路,而且還怕土匪和野獸(山上常鬧豺狼和土匪)。解剖實習的骨骼不夠分配,學生常常跑到山上,挖取野墳的骨骼。在物質條件如此低劣之下,師長們誨人不倦,同學們埋頭苦學。當時幾乎全國知名的教授,均薈集在此,貴陽醫學院聲譽鵲起,遂有『小協和』之稱。」[4]


兩年後,「貴醫」的學生畢業了!1940年2月2日 首屆畢業典禮晚在敬思樓舉行,醫科第一屆畢業生二十六人,醫士職業科畢業生第一屆護士十六人、助產士十一人。典禮上,男著中山裝,女著旗袍。畢業生也是穿著整齊,或黑色中山裝,或白色制服。會場佈置莊嚴隆重,校門有松柏彩牌聳立,兩側書有楹聯:「畢業即始業,祝諸君鵬程萬里;新生繼舊生,看吾校異彩常留。」與會者有省主席、教育部代表、教育廳長、大夏大學校長、湘雅醫學院院長等。典禮在樂曲中開始,李宗恩致辭。他說——


「我熱誠的向諸位道賀。但是從我的職務上,以及對於諸位的私誼上,都感覺彼此相處的日子太短了。我對於諸位有無限的希望,在諸位畢業離校的時候,願意從自己的生活經驗中提出一些重要的心得來貢獻給諸位。


「我們無論求學、辦事,都必須有科學的態度。我對於科學態度的解釋,認為應該是避免主觀,注重客觀。主觀太強,理智容易給感情蒙蔽,會不知不覺的走入錯路。注重客觀就必須有冷靜的頭腦,才可以充分運用他的智慧來求學來辦事,才會有良好的成就,才會有不斷的進步。就是處世方面,也要有科學的態度,才能夠檢討自己,體諒他人。這種心平氣和認真做事生活的風格,實在是受過高等教育者應有的修養。


「求學辦事僅有科學的態度還是不夠,如果沒有一種動力,所謂成就與進步還是沒有把握的。這種動力必須有健全而有意義的精神生活的人才有。在西洋社會宗教信仰是人們健全精神的基礎。有人說,主義信仰也可以成為人們健全精神的基礎。我以為一個人能夠有一種固定的事業欲,也可以使他的精神生活達到健全而有意義的境地,因為有固定的事業欲的人必然是意志堅定的,必然能夠不惜犧牲為他的事業向前作艱苦的奮鬥,像有宗教信仰或者主義信仰的人一樣。這樣的人,他一定能夠從他的事業中得到滿足,得到他特有的樂趣,他活一天覺得有一天的意義,他的心境永遠是樂觀而且積極的……」


我反復閱讀這篇致辭,感慨良多。與其說他是在勉勵學子,不如講是在歸納自己——「無論求學,無論辦事,都必須有科學的態度」——李宗恩不正是這樣辦學的嗎?「心平氣和認真做事的生活風格」——李宗恩不正是這樣生活的嗎?「一個人能夠有一種固定的事業欲,也可以使他的精神生活達到健全而有意義的境地」——李宗恩不正是達到了這樣的境地嗎?最令我欽佩的是他的這種人生態度貫穿於生命之始終,即使在「反右」之後,「山巔秀木,摧杌為薪」。對一個不懂政治的人來說,當時內心渺茫惶惑可想而知,但他依舊恢恢然君子形貌。我覺得李宗恩的幾十年的醫學教育實踐,有如廣袤高原上的冬雪,綿長細密,無聲無息又盡心盡力。 

李宗恩令人欽佩的是他的人生態度貫穿於生命之始終,即使在「反右」之後,「山巔秀木,摧杌為薪」。對一個不懂政治的人來說,當時內心渺茫惶惑可想而知,但他依舊恢恢然君子形貌。(取自百度百科)


臨床是醫學院教學的重要組成。1941年,為了讓貴醫有臨床教育,李宗恩和楊濟時籌集了部分資金,在貴陽市陽明路兩廣會館,因陋就簡,設置十張病床,成立了貴陽醫學院附屬醫院,由楊濟時任院主任。而在此以前,學生的教學實習和臨床實習都有賴於省立醫院。醫學從來都是嚴謹刻板、乃至冰冷的,加之物質匱乏,生活艱苦,為消解學生日常生活裡的冗繁,乾枯與瑣碎,李宗恩居然組建了一支口琴隊!用節省下來的院長辦公的經費,在香港訂購了各型口琴。經過訓練,沒過多久,什麼《比翼鳥》、《雙鷲進行曲》、《漢宮秋月》等樂曲,都不在話下,還定期在貴陽市內公演和電臺播出,且成為貴陽最有名的口琴演奏隊。繼而他又建立了話劇隊、國劇隊。前者,為貴陽市捐獻慰勞籌款公演,自己還參與《叔叔的成功》等劇碼的演出。後者,為勞軍、賑災、募捐等義務也演出多次,劇碼包括《玉春堂》、《武家坡》等。風流盡顯,舊時代一個受教育充分的知識份子在文化上的深度以及個性之飽滿充盈,令人感佩。幾年下來,在西南邊陲,於荒僻之地,李宗恩等一流教授以血水奔流的方式,培養出合格的醫科學生,由是激發出人們在戰爭中拯救生命的熱望。化育人才,弦歌不輟。這所原本不為人知的貴陽醫學院,在硝煙中越發顯得崇高和厚重,引得燕京大學司徒雷登等人也來貴陽參觀。有如一條緩慢的水流因高壓而成為壯觀的噴泉,在戰爭陰暗縫隙中迸射出的一線奪目的光亮!


轉眼到了1944年的冬季,日軍節節西進,由廣西逼近黔省,貴陽一夕數驚。省政府命令各機構和市民疏散,「貴醫」決定遷往重慶歌樂山。沒有汽車等運載工具,長途跋涉只有徒步而行。李宗恩把自己僅有的黃包車,卸下兩隻輪盤,給同學們用來拖運行李。「在動身的那一天早晨(12月7日),師生齊集附屬醫院門前空地。天氣陰沉,寒峻的北風吹得房屋在戰慄,也吹去心頭的溫暖,大家有說不出來的悲涼與淒清。(李)院長在一個簡單的演說以後,哽咽著喉嚨,流著眼淚,顫抖著聲音說道:『我們來唱——唱一個校歌。』在場的人已是泣不成聲。」 [5] 師生們並不恐懼日本人的兇暴,也不考慮個人的安危全,之所以痛哭是惟恐這剛長成的貴醫因經不住狂風暴雨,而枯零凋萎。


在戰火中在遭遇苦難,在苦難中堅持不懈,國立貴陽醫學院以「永遠獨立」的風姿完整地保存下來。李宗恩儘管承受許多周折乃至誤解,但他懂得作為一個院長的第一意義,就是負擔起自己的責任。出色的業績,使他榮獲了中華民國政府頒發的「抗戰勝利勳章」。獲此勳章的,有國民黨高級數十位將領:何應欽,程潛,閻錫山,馮玉祥,李宗仁,白崇禧等。有八路軍三位將軍:朱德,彭德懷,葉劍英。


在此期間,朱家驊、王世傑二人以介紹人身份為李宗恩辦理了國民黨黨員手續。按照當時的規定,學校的校長、教務主任及訓導主任應是國民黨員。為了千辛萬苦辦起來的貴醫,李宗恩接受了這個事實。而萬萬沒有想到的是——此後二十年,在反復的政治歷史審查中,卻不得不一次次地面對這個「事實」。


抗戰結束,恢復協和的事宜立即提到日程上來。經費方面由美國資助;董事會是中美成員的組合;管理方面則明確要求一個全職中國院長,一個美國副院長,皆由協和董事會選出。中國院長候選人有四、五位。包括劉瑞恒,林可勝,張孝騫,李宗恩。1947年3月12日協和董事會在上海召開會議,選舉李宗恩為協和醫學院第一任中國院長,Dr. Alan Gregg 為副院長。


3月23日, 李宗恩電告胡適:「I feel unequal to the great task which the PUMC Trustees did me the honor to entrust to me. I beg you to give me one week to enable me to think over the matter carefully and to make arrangements for the Kweiyang Medical College affairs before I can make any final decision.」 (譯文:協和董事會的任命以及給予我的榮譽和信任使我感到力所不及。請允許我要求一個星期的時間給你最後答覆,讓我認真考慮如何安排貴陽醫學院的工作。)


3月31日,李宗恩給胡適電報,表示接受任命。時任擔任董事會主席的胡適對李宗恩的人品、學識和才幹,深信不疑。他在信中這樣寫道:「在你的領導下,我們相信,新協和將會像過去一樣,對中國的醫學教育做成重要貢獻。對此,你將有我們的信任和支持。」



編按:


李宗恩,中國熱帶病學醫學家及醫學教育家。1923年至1937年任職於北京協和醫學院;1937年秋開始,南渡籌辦貴陽醫學院,並於1938年6月成立後擔任院長職務。1947年5月北歸擔任協和醫學院的院長。


李宗恩在20、30年代主要研究寄生蟲病,尤其是絲蟲病、血吸蟲病、瘧疾和黑熱病。曾在華北、華中地區設立血吸蟲病及其他多發性熱帶病的病情觀察站,是為中國熱帶病學研究的創始人。1948年獲選為(中華民國)第一屆中央研究院院士。


中共建政後,他留任原職。1949年9月受中國科協推舉,擔任全國政協委員。1957年被打成「右派」,隨後被「放逐」到昆明,任職於昆明醫學院。1962年病逝於昆明。(資料來源:維基百科)

胡適和殷海光的三次辯論 (金恆煒);【胡適和殷海光】






2017.3.19

今天有幸參加陳文華學長的宴客。隔座是金恆煒先生,他提到昨天寫稿到清晨4點,完成【胡適和殷海光】一書。書內提問諸多待解的謎團,譬如說 胡適之先生以何種身分住在美國9年多等等。
我們期盼此書早日問世。











2014.1.23

雖然才剛出新書《我的法庭正義》,但金恆煒表示,他已著手另寫一本書,已經有三萬字,約三分之一,主要是談胡適和殷海光的三次辯論,包括吳國禎事件、反攻大陸,以及自由和容忍的爭論。金恆煒說,他引用了許多別人沒用過的資料,因此結論和所有人寫過的都不一樣。




金恆煒說,所謂人怎樣選擇,其實是一個很大的課題,有的人喜歡作一個四處討好的人,像胡適,每個人都喜歡他,但這種人比較鄉愿;也可以選擇馬英九這種人,身邊只有囉囉,民調只剩9.2%,所有人都討厭他。

2017年3月15日 星期三

胡鐵花之台鹽治績 (周維亮)


江燦騰新增了 4 張相片

從明鄭時期,開始引進曬鹽技術的台南地區露天鹽場,現在不敵機械化的大量製鹽產品,於是就沒落成為學童的遊樂場所。

國家文化資料庫

也從「台灣紀錄兩種」中,對鐵花先生改革鹽務的宏識與毅力,有更進一步的瞭解。之後撰寫了「胡鐵花之台鹽治績」,列為「海述林」第十五篇。本件共7頁,實際掃瞄7頁,



(96年度)現有典藏之珍貴鹽業史料數位典藏前期計畫

國家文化資料庫 系統識別號: 0006757236
作品類型: 古文書
原件與否: 原件
藏品層次: 合集
媒體類型: 數位檔案
數量單位: 1張
尺寸大小: 21.0*15.2
色彩模式: RGB
圖片大小: 300*383pixels,874*1116pixels
每點位元素: 彩色-每像素 24-bits
數位化類別: 影像(圖片)
檔案類型: jpg
檔案名稱: cca200119-od_c022_0018-001-t.jpg,cca200119-od_c022_0018-001-i.jpg
檔案描述: 網路預覽,網路下載
檔案大小: 74kb,984kb
作品名稱: 胡函小記
內容主題: 胡函小記
關鍵詞: 胡適,胡鐵花,台鹽史料,台灣紀錄兩種,周維亮
摘要: 民國43年周維亮的手稿,其從「台鹽史料」得知胡適博士的尊人—鐵花先 生在遜清末季曾任台南鹽務總局提調,對於那時期的鹽政,有過卓越的改進。也從「台灣紀錄兩種」中,對鐵花先生改革鹽務的宏識與毅力,有更進一步的瞭解。之 後撰寫了「胡鐵花之台鹽治績」,列為「鹺海述林」第十五篇。本件共7頁,實際掃瞄7頁,此為首頁。
保存狀況: 褪色
收藏取得方式: 捐贈
姓名: 胡適
身分/職稱: 內文提到對象
文書形式類別: 手札(散文)
版本:
修復記錄:
作者:周維亮
其他貢獻者: 資料詮釋者柯百珊
出版者:
入藏日期:200712
成文日期:195410
作品語文: 中文
創作地點:台灣
時間類別: 民國
著作財產權人: 鹽光文教基金會
著作權授權狀態: 20080101,
使用限制: 非營利、教育及研究使用
典藏單位國家: 中華民國
典藏單位: 鹽光文教基金會







其他圖片
 cca200119-od_c022_0018-001-i.jpg


在台湾任知州和统领(5)_胡适口述自传_胡适口述唐德刚译注_文化读书频道 ...

- [ 轉為繁體網頁 ]2006年7月28日 ... 据我所知,李敖所引的各种[书刊],无一是与铁花先生所治理台盐的资料有关。适之先生原意,恐系指拙(周維亮)著《胡铁花之台盐治绩》,文载四十二年[1953] ...1960/6/20 胡適寫信致謝

2017年3月13日 星期一

Clarence Darrow for the Defense;勸他讀讀 Clarence Darrow "The story of my life " 第42-44章;中共統治如黑社會化;

Chase after the truth like all hell and you'll free yourself, even though you never touch its coat tails. 
Clarence Darrow
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/c/clarenceda154034.html






中國的維權律師——被“失踪”、逮捕、請喝茶: 黑社會化的公權力必將自我膨脹,禍及全球---長平觀察。...

------

回憶錄『我的光榮與信仰』"The story of my life " ,以及歐文斯通的巨著『舌辯大師丹諾辯護實錄』Irving Stone, Clarence Darrow for the Defense (New York: Doubleday, Doran, 1941),

1939年5月12日 Bishop Roots 來吃飯。 此老真可厭, 我勸他讀讀 Clarence Darrow "The story of my life " 第42-44章
第42章: 新的習慣
43 沒有答案的問題
44 來生? 靈魂不朽?

Clarence Darrow-- The story of my life

The story of my life - Google 圖書結果

Clarence Darrow - 1996 - History - 495 頁
In The Story of My Life he recounts, and reflects on, his more than fifty years as a corporate, labor, and criminal lawyer, including the most celebrated and ...


The story of my life -丹諾自傳 Clarence Darrow 說明
這本書在1980/84在台灣有增訂版。
現在2010 ,令有商周文化的譯本。