蒲慕州 《春城無處不飛花：蒲慕州訪談錄》 Samuel Pepys。 珍芳達

• 【#新書推介】

  《春城無處不飛花：蒲慕州訪談錄》

  作者︰蒲慕州（口述）、李華（筆錄）

  出版社︰三聯書店(香港)有限公司（2024/10）

  【內容簡介】

  巧合•跨界

  比較•通俗

  本書是歷史學者蒲慕州先生的訪談錄。蒲慕州，1952年生，畢業於臺灣大學歷史系，後赴美國布朗大學埃及學研究所、約翰•霍普金斯大學近東研究所攻讀埃及學碩士、博士。研究領域是古代埃及史、中國古代宗教社會史以及比較古代史。

  筆錄者李華透過四次訪談，圍繞蒲先生學術生涯中最重要的四個方向──埃及史、宗教研究、古代文明比較以及日常生活史，將蒲先生談及自己棄理從文的學術歷程、做跨界及比較研究的心得、以及其對學術的反思，整理成書。

  臺大被稱為杜鵑花城，每年三四月，杜鵑盛開，本書封面正描繪了臺大文學院春暖花開的景色。書名「春城無處不飛花」，選自詩人韓翃〈寒食〉中的詩句，透露出蒲先生身上一種與學術、邏輯並行而來的詩意。

  【作者簡介】

  蒲慕州

  香港中文大學歷史系講座教授（退休）。臺灣大學歷史系畢業，美國約輸•霍普金斯大學埃及學博士。專長是古代埃及史、中國古代宗教社會史以及比較古代史。曽在中研院及美國加州大學、哥倫比亞大學、葛林耐學院等地工作教學。是少數能夠同時從事埃及學及漢學研究的學者，近來亦致力於比較古代史的研究。專書有《漢唐的巫蠱與集體心態》、《墓葬與生死：中國古代宗教之省思》、《尼羅河畔的文采：古埃及作品選》、《追尋一己之福：中國古代的信仰世界》、《法老的國度）、Wine and Wine Offering in the Religion of　Ancient Egypt、Enemies of Civilization: Attitudes toward Foreigners in Ancient Mesopotamia, Egypt and China、Daily Life in Ancient China、Ghosts and　Religious Life in Eary China等。

  李華

  香港中文大學歷史學博士，研究興趣為新文化史、古代物質文化、人文歷史通識寫作，著有《歸葬：三至六世紀士族個體安頓與家國想像》，譯作《劍橋中國魏晉南北朝史（220-589）》（中譯本，第六、十八章），有學術論文见於《漢學研究》等刊物，人文通識專欄「魏晉的鬼影怪談」見於網絡。

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• 這是2019的舊文，為不同的事件而寫，但一樣情境、一樣的情緒不斷的反覆。 有太多名字可以換掉原文的 XXX。其實背骨者全世界都有，台灣沒有比較多，不同的是，越共再多，炸不到美國，但「河內珍」帶給珍芳達一輩子的羞辱與懺悔，而中國的飛彈對準台灣，隨時威脅要把台灣夷為平地，但我們如果公開叫人家「北京慷」、「北京娜娜」，被罵的一定是我們。人家還得獎ㄋㄟ！這才是台灣奇特的地方。
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• ********** 珍芳達的懺悔與XXX   - 2019
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• 『...... 我們言論自由的底線在哪裡？我們不妨來看民主老大哥美國對同情敵人者的態度是什麼。
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• 60年代後半越戰已成為美國任何執政黨都無法處理的棘手問題，年輕人的怒吼逼得詹森放棄連任之路，但還是救不了曾經對民權法案做出大貢獻的民主黨，幾乎是被年輕人以越戰這單一議題下架。然而換上尼克森之後不但問題沒有解決，對越南的濫炸濫射變本加厲，規模數倍於詹森主政的時期。美軍的地毯式轟炸在進入70年代後達到顛峰，尼克森第一任期結束前，投在中南半島的炸彈已超過美軍在第二次世界大戰總合的三倍。
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• 北越以美軍轟炸過後的慘狀向世界宣傳，再利用美國的新聞自由，日復一日烙印在每個美國人的心理。美國社會對越戰已是忍無可忍，反戰成為年輕人的一種進步時尚，儘管口號空洞，但趕快結束越戰已是每個美國人的道德呼喚。
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• 好萊塢的自由派立場一向鮮明，明星與歌手當然要把反戰當成一種進步的認證，但最多就是跑去華盛頓參加反戰示威，唱唱歌、呼呼口號。不意外，嬉皮在所多有，但真正敢跑去北越實地了解的，恐怕就絕無僅有了，遑論上北越的廣播節目，公開批判自己國家的戰爭行為？對美國人而言，即便是反戰份子，為敵人宣傳是無法想像的。
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• 但大名鼎鼎的珍芳達（Jane Fonda）就是這樣一個絕無僅有的反戰份子。她接受北越邀請，在1972年7月前往北越，帶著照相機，做了兩個星期的訪問。珍芳達親上北越的「越南之音」，在廣播中描述她的所見所聞，指控美軍蓄意炸毀非軍事設施的堤防。她也被安排訪問了美軍的俘虜營，宣稱美軍戰俘都受到良好的待遇，沒有刑求。
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• 珍芳達並非藉此想提升知名度或得到北越金錢的資助。她早已是好萊塢的當紅女星，之前一年才以《柳巷芳草》（Klute，1971）獲得她第一座奧斯卡最佳女主角。天真的珍芳達深信她是在做一件對的事情，但她顯然已成為北越最好的宣傳工具。她所拍攝的許多照片，不但只是呈現北越當局安排出來的場景，還遭變造處理，而這些照片等於是她背書的北越宣傳。
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• 珍芳達在北越的言行當然引發美國同胞的憤怒，國務院發出聲明譴責，國會召開聽證會。有議員認為她的行為已是叛國，也有議員主張下架她的電影，封殺她的演藝事業。退伍軍人協會通過決議，要求司法部以叛國罪起訴珍芳達。麥卡錫主義的氛圍再起，然而她既非軍人，也非官員，更沒有拿敵人任何的酬勞與好處，這是她的個人自由，法律上毫無問題，但死亡恐嚇的黑函如雪片飛來，甚至有人公開說要割她的舌頭。
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• 幸運的是，美國社會經過60年代民權運動的洗禮，珍芳達的行為並沒有召回麥卡錫主義。其實在反戰的浪潮之下，以珍芳達素有的激進路線，河內之行只是憑添一樁事蹟，最多只是幾天的新聞炒作。真正引發美國人民憤怒的，不是她反戰的立場與譴責美軍的廣播，而是她離開河內前的一張照片。那是一張她與北越防空部隊的合影，她帶著北越鋼盔，坐在河內的防空砲上拍手唱歌。
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• 這張照片曝光後立刻在美國國內引起軒然大波，把照片解讀成珍芳達主張以越共的防空砲打下美國戰機。這是叛國行為，也是對陣亡的美軍最大的侮辱。全國震怒，各媒體以「河內珍」(Hanoi Jane) 來嘲笑珍芳達。 美國人喜歡以GI Jane來通稱女兵，男兵則為GI Joe，所以Hanoi Jane是相當諷刺的，這個綽號從此跟著珍芳達，永遠無法洗刷。
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• 半個世紀後，已82歲高齡的珍芳達不改其志，仍站在社運的第一線，從以巴衝突到氣候暖化，無役不與。珍芳達從沒有改變她對越戰的觀點，始終以她的反戰思想感到驕傲，也不後悔她1972年的北越行，但她終身為那張「河內珍」照片道歉。她在1988 年接受Barbara Walters的訪問，一方面捍衛她的動機是良善的，一方面她為因她的無知與言行所造成的傷害，向所有參與越戰的將士與家屬致歉，特別為那張與敵人武器合照的照片，向陣亡的將士乞求原諒。
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• 珍芳達在2005年出版的自傳裡重申一樣的歉意，還原那張照片拍攝的經過，認為她可能是被北越設計利用，但她不責怪北越，而是責怪她自己，表示那張照片是她一生中最大的誤判，成為她背叛國家的印記，侮辱了她的父親亨利．方達（Henry Fonda）與姓氏，她將帶著這個遺憾進到自己的墳墓裡。30多年來，珍芳達對「河內珍」的懺悔不斷出現在各大媒體的訪談中，一次又一次的道歉，算是相當誠懇。
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• 珍芳達當然沒有得到所有美國人的原諒。在自傳的簽書會上，一位憤怒的退伍軍人將菸草汁吐在她臉上。這位退伍軍人當場被以擾亂秩序逮捕，但他十分得意，怒指珍芳達已在我們臉上吐口水四十年，所有退伍軍人都想吐她口水，他只是光榮的代表所有的越戰老兵，要告就告。珍芳達沒有提出告訴，繼續她一生的贖罪，試圖與不諒解她的同胞和解。
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• 珍芳達的影像出現在敵國的防空武器之前，也上「越南之音」對美國喊話，如何對比台灣的情形呢？乍看台灣藝圈裡有無數的小珍芳達，跑到中國對台灣指指點點，彷彿台灣有如當年強大的美國，以絕對的軍力優勢欺負弱小貧窮的中國，屠殺無助的中國人民。是這樣嗎？但這些「勇敢」的小珍芳達以上中國的央視為榮，倡言兩岸一家親，促進兩岸和平，譴責台灣政府撕裂兩岸的感情，甚至舉報不同意見的台灣人，還不忘「瞻仰」中國壯盛的軍容。這不奇怪嗎？該被譴責的不應該是以千餘顆飛彈對準台灣的中國嗎？這些小珍芳達們何等的錯亂？
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• 在道德上台灣的小珍芳達當然不是當年反戰的珍芳達，威脅發動戰爭的是強大的中國，而小珍芳達們為了攫取個人利益，甘做中國的應聲蟲。幸與不幸，台灣畢竟是民主國家，法律上我們幾乎無可奈何，習慣成自然，民間早已視而不見，輿論的道德譴責不但沒有，甚至是逆向譴責對小珍芳達們不滿的國人。
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• 更糟的是，比這些小珍芳達惡劣千百倍的政客大有人在，如邱毅、吳斯懷們，而他們依然能參與我們的大選，以候選人的身分大放厥詞。如果親耳聽見邱毅、吳斯懷在中國央視的言論，凡有一絲國家觀念的國人都應該向他們吐口水。他們對台灣與台灣人的傷害，無論是情感上還是實質上，何止千百倍於珍芳達對美國？可悲的是，若以珍芳達被冠上「河內珍」的邏輯，以「北京毅」叫邱毅，「北京懷」叫吳思懷，吃毀謗官司的恐怕還是我們。.......』
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• abridged, expurgated
• spew, pass out, mighty merry
• reflective, unequaled
• intimation, tiff, ejaculation

Pepys' Diary: Wednesday 4 April 1660
The King: O, prisca fides! What can these be? Rochester: The love of wine and women.
The King: God bless your majesty!" new. Hhomeboy on Sun 6 Apr 2003, ...

Sober in govt….continued:
One of the better exchanges between Rochester and The King:
"Rochester:Were I in your Majesty's place I would not govern at all.
The King: How then?
Rochester: I would send for my good Lord Rochester and command him to govern.
The King: But the singular modesty of that nobleman-
Rochester: He would certainly conform himself to your Majesty's bright example. How gloriously would the two grand social virtues flourish under his auspices!
The King: O, prisca fides! What can these be?
Rochester: The love of wine and women.
The King: God bless your majesty!"

crest
The Family Motto is: "PRISCA FIDES" this translates to "Ancient Trust" and can
be traced to John Glassford Tobacco Lord. ...

I've Seen Fire, I've Seen Plague

By CHARLES MCGRATH

Published: December 29, 2002

SAMUEL PEPYS
The Unequalled Self.
By Claire Tomalin.
Illustrated. 470 pp. New York:
Alfred A. Knopf. $30.

Who remembers Samuel Pepys anymore? Of all the dead white males who used to throng the anthologies and the English lit syllabus, Pepys (1633-1703) is now among the deadest, relegated to footnotes and to trivia questions about the correct pronunciation of his name. (It rhymes with cheeps.) In today's literary climate, there are lots of reasons for benching Pepys -- he was a political chameleon, nasty to the servants, and a serial groper and philanderer -- but the most compelling may be that he's such an anomaly. He comes out of nowhere -- writing only for himself, in a form of his own invention -- and he doesn't lead anywhere either. By the time his work was discovered, a century later, he was a curiosity but not an ''influence.'' Yet the decline in Pepys's reputation only makes Claire Tomalin's engaging new biography all the more remarkable: she not only brings him back to vibrant life, but makes a powerful case that he's more central, more ''relevant,'' than we ever imagined.

Pepys had two great accomplishments. He was the creator, in effect, of the modern British Navy, and to this day naval historians so revere him that they regard the other Pepys, the literary one, as an embarrassment and a distraction. He was also a compulsive diarist. Starting on New Year's Day in 1660 (when he was 26), he faithfully wrote down, in a shorthand code, a day-by-day account of everything he saw, felt or heard for the next nine years. The completed diary fills six 282-page notebooks; it's the longest, most personal account we have of life in the 17th century, and also an invaluable eyewitness account of some of the most seismic events in English history: the Restoration (Pepys was in the boat that went to fetch Charles II from the Netherlands), the plague of 1665, the Great Fire the following year and the Dutch raids the year after that. Bracketing the diary are the years of the Civil War and the Protectorate (Pepys as a schoolboy watched the king's execution) and, later, the Glorious Revolution of 1688, during which Pepys, who remained a staunch Jacobite, was briefly imprisoned on suspicion of treason. Few literary figures have lived through more interesting, or more treacherous, times.

Pepys, as Tomalin points out, was hardly the first person to write a diary, but most earlier diaries were written for a specific purpose -- usually religious (as an aid to spiritual bookkeeping) or to record travel and sightseeing. It's not really clear what prompted Pepys to begin his diary, unless it was just a vague intimation that he was living on the eve of great events, but the diary quickly became its own purpose and justification. Pepys kept track of everything: his assignations, his finances, his business deals, his conversations with the king (and erotic dreams about the queen), his hangovers, his bowel movements and ejaculations, his fears and hopes and imaginings, his frequent tiffs with his wife.

Borrowing a phrase from Robert Louis Stevenson (who read the diary after it was decoded and published in close to a full version in 1879), Tomalin subtitles her book ''The Unequalled Self,'' and suggests that over the course of the diary we can watch the evolution of something like a modern version of selfhood. This is certainly true in the sense that Pepys held nothing back, but he's also the least reflective and self-conscious diarist imaginable. We get none of the soul-searching, the self-examination -- the sense of a personality under construction -- that turns up, say, in Boswell's journals, just a generation or two later. There's something almost childlike in Pepys's essential self-delight and in his undifferentiated avidity for experience.

Nor is Pepys a particularly great prose stylist, certainly not by 17th-century standards, which prized cleverness and ornament. The diary contains numerous set pieces -- such as the descriptions of the coronation of Charles II (where Pepys got so drunk he passed out and woke up in his own ''spew''), of the fire and the plague -- which he clearly took some time and trouble over. But there are great stretches that are written in, well, diaryese: up early and to work . . . away to My Lord So-and-So's . . . dine with Sir Such-and-Such . . . conversation with Mr. Somebody or other . . . was mighty merry . . . and so on, until at the end of a long day he closes with his trademark phrase ''and so to bed.'' Except for Tomalin and the Pepys professionals, it's safe to say, few people recently have read all six volumes straight through. (If you want to try, they're on the Internet, as part of the Gutenberg project; there is also a convenient abridgment, edited by Robert Latham.) For a long time, the sexy bits were expurgated, and most of them turn out to have been written in a kind of code-within-the-code, a pidgin of French, Latin and Spanish that today reads like the fevered jottings of a horny and nerdy high schooler. (Pepys was raised as a Puritan, we need to remember.) Here he is on Nov. 16, 1667, talking about riding with a servant girl in a coach, and how after great effort he succeeded in making her ''tener mi cosa in her mano while mi mano was sobra su pectus, and so did hazer with great delight.'' Elsewhere he is always trying to ''toca'' someone's ''jupes'' or thighs, or else attempting to ''poner'' his ''main'' someplace it doesn't belong, as on the awful day when his wife found him feeling up her maid. ''I was at a wonderful loss upon it,'' Pepys wrote, ''and the girl also.''

But the seeming artlessness, and even occasional crudeness, of the diaries turn out to be their greatest strength. Pepys was not a brilliant thinker, or even an especially good shaper of experience, but he was a superb noticer, and picked up on things that others overlooked -- the king's dog, for example, relieving himself in the bottom of the Royal Barge; or the pigeons, during the Great Fire, who were ''loath to leave their houses, but hovered about the windows and balconies till they were some of them burned their wings, and fell down.'' In short, he was a great reporter, at a time when reporting as we know it hadn't really been invented, and his writing, direct and unmediated, has the virtue of instant credibility. Reading Pepys we intuitively sense that we're getting the genuine version, a true feeling for what life really was like back then.

Tomalin's last book was a biography of Jane Austen, about whom we know next to nothing. Here she has the opposite problem -- Pepys's is one of the best documented lives ever -- and she has solved it by adopting, for the most part, a thematic rather than a chronological approach, with individual chapters devoted to his marriage, his work, his relationship with the king, his career in Parliament, his membership in the Royal Society and so on. This results in occasional repetition, and requires a couple of awkward flashbacks or leaps forward; some of Tomalin's summarizing, moreover, comes at the expense of actual quotation. You don't always hear as much of Pepys himself as you would like, especially on two of his favorite subjects, music and the theater.

On the other hand, Tomalin is a brilliant summarist, with a Pepys-like gift of her own for evoking the sights, sounds and smells of 17th-century London, and she has performed an invaluable service by so patiently and carefully sifting through mounds of documentation in order to bring us back the good stuff. She has restored to us the whole Pepys, not just the young man who wrote the diary, and we can now follow the full trajectory of his life, including the many political scrapes the shrewd older bureaucrat had to dodge. (He had made a lifelong enemy of the Earl of Shaftesbury, for example, who never tired of trying to smear him.) Tomalin also reveals that after the death of his wife, Pepys carried on a 33-year affair with a younger woman named Mary Skinner; though semi-secret, the relationship proved in many ways more satisfying and less fraught than his marriage. (Surprisingly, for someone who slept around so much, Pepys never fathered any children, possibly because of a horrific kidney-stone operation he underwent as a young man.)

In Tomalin's telling, Pepys turns out to be the first modern success story: a poor but talented and ambitious young man who, by dint of luck, connections and hard work, rises to the top of his profession. He becomes, in Tom Wolfe's phrase, a ''Master of the Universe'' -and takes both pride and immense and infectious delight in all the perks that come with that exalted state: the money, the apartment, the clothes, the meals, the girlfriends, the rich and important connections.

Pepys's father was a barely literate tailor, his mother a laundress, and it's doubtful that he would have got on at all in life were it not for the intervention of a wealthy cousin, Edward Montagu (later the Earl of Sandwich), who saw to it that he got an education and eventually a job as clerk in Cromwell's government. Montagu was an ardent Puritan and republican, one of Cromwell's right-hand advisers, but as the Rump Parliament fell apart after Cromwell's death, he secretly and expeditiously began negotiations with the exiled Prince Charles. When the moment was right, he changed his stripes and became a royalist. Most of England eagerly did the same, including Montagu's 26-year-old protégé; it was a moment, Tomalin suggests, comparable to the fall of the Berlin Wall and the end of the cold war.

Montagu was given a peerage and appointed Master of the King's Wardrobe; he got Pepys an appointment with the Navy Board. This was the single luckiest stroke of Pepys's life, and it was the making of him. The navy at that time was the biggest industry and the biggest employer in all of England, and Pepys proved to be brilliant at his job, the first naval administrator to keep accurate and useful records and to codify standards and procedures. He was, even in today's terms, a workaholic; by 17th-century standards he was a marvel of energy and efficiency. Most of his peers worked to live; Pepys lived to work, and the diary is full of accounts of early rising and long hours, of getting up in the middle of the night to rush back to the office. The job came with a house, a good salary and, just as important, an opportunity not for bribes, exactly (though he accepted those too), but for ''considerations.'' Pepys was shrewd with a pound, and soon became well off.

Some of his money he spent on himself, on clothes and wigs. (He was one of the first Englishmen to adopt the French custom of wearing a peruke, which explains why in his surviving portraits he always has on an enormous and weighty-looking hairpiece.) He poured even more money into home improvements; his house, on Seething Lane, was usually filled with joiners, plasterers, painters, upholsterers and floor-layers, all of whose comings and goings are faithfully noted in the diary. As he got on in the world, Pepys took up dancing, and even hired a private teacher (who flirted so shamelessly with Mrs. Pepys that it drove him mad with jealously). He gave lavish dinner parties and was a regular at court, where the king joked with him and called him by name. In his spare time he called on his reliable old flames Betty Lane and Mrs. Bagwell, the wife of a ship's carpenter, and also tried his luck with any serving girl or housemaid who came within range.

And all the while he was writing it down. Most of us, at one time or another, have imagined ourselves as actors in the drama (or sitcom) of our own lives. Pepys had the nerve to cast himself as the central player in an epic -+the story not only of his life but of his times -- and it's a story that fascinated him every bit as much as it fascinates us. He abandoned the diary when he was 36 because he was worried about his eyesight. He twice made a stab at starting up again, but these later diaries have none of the energy of the original. ''Something essential was missing,'' Tomalin writes, ''some grit that had caused him to produce his pearl.'' Or it may be that by then he had arrived, and there was nothing left to prove. Being one of the most important men in London wasn't just a thrilling part to play -- it was who he had become.

Charles McGrath is the editor of the Book Review.