2008年7月30日 星期三

Tennessee Williams

田纳西·威廉斯

维基百科,自由的百科全书

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田纳西·威廉斯(1965年)
田纳西·威廉斯(1965年)

托马斯·拉尼尔·威廉斯三世Thomas Lanier Williams III1911年3月26日1983年2月25日),以筆名田纳西·威廉斯Tennessee Williams)聞名於世,是一位美國的,同時也是二十世紀最重要的劇作家之一。他于1948年1955年分別以他的《慾望街車》(A Streetcar Named Desire)及《熱鐵皮屋頂上的貓》(Cat on A Hot Tim Roof)赢得普利策戏剧奖。除此之外,《玻璃動物園》(The Glass Menagerie)在1945年以及《大蜥蜴之夜》(The Night of the Iguana )在1961年拿下紐約戲劇評論獎(New York Drama Critics' Circle Award)。1952年他的《玫瑰刺青》(The Rose Tattoo)獲得東尼獎最佳戲劇的殊榮。

目录

[隐藏]

[编辑] 生平

田纳西·威廉斯生於一個混亂不安的家庭,這樣的環境也因此激發了他許多的寫作靈感。他出生在密西西比州的哥倫布市,身為牧師的外祖父的家中(該地現今是該市的觀光客服務中心)。三歲時,全家移居到密西西比州的克拉克戴爾;七歲時,被診斷出有白喉,後兩年的時間裡,他幾乎任何事都不能做。然而他母親當時不允許他浪費時間,進而鼓勵他利用他的想像力;十三歲時,他母親給了他一台打字機

1918年威廉斯全家再搬到密蘇里州聖路易斯。他父親是位到處奔波的鞋子售貨員,在他孩子較年長時他變得越加辱罵他們;他母親是位美國南方上流世家的後裔,對於威廉斯她有幾分令人感到窒息。他的弟弟Dakin比較受到父親的眷顧。

威廉斯16歲時在文學雜誌Smart Set贏得散文第三名,獎金5元美金。一年後發表了The Venegeance of Nitocris

30年代早期,威廉斯在大學時加入ATO兄弟會,會中其他成員因為他說話的南方腔調,而給他起了田納西(Tennessee)這個外號。1935年威廉斯寫了他第一部公開演出的戲劇《開羅!上海!孟買!》(Cairo!Shanghai!Bombay!),並在田納西州的曼菲斯市演出。

1937年,威廉斯搬往紐奧良市的法蘭西區的圖盧茲街772號,並且為工作改進組織(Work Progress Administration,WPA,為當時的失業者創造就業機會的機構)寫作。1947年創作《慾望街車》的時候是居住在聖彼得街632號。

威廉斯與他的姊姊蘿絲關係親近,他也深受她的影響。蘿絲是位纖瘦美麗的女子,被診斷出有精神分裂症,大部分的時間都在精神病療養院度過。經過幾次的心理治療均不見效,她變得更加偏執。她父母最後同意進行前腦葉白質切除手術。1942年,手術在華盛頓特區進行,但之後情況惡化,蘿絲的餘生就在沒有行為能力的狀況下度過。

蘿絲的手術失敗對威廉斯是極大的打擊,他從來不原諒他的父母同意施行該手術。這也可能是造成他日後酗酒的因素之一。許多偏執的女性角色出現在威廉斯的戲劇裡,可能都是受蘿絲的影響。

威廉斯的劇本中的角色常直接代表了他的家庭成員。《玻璃動物園》裡的蘿拉就是以乃姊蘿絲為樣本,一些傳記也提到《慾望街車》的布蘭琪也是以她為樣本。腦葉切除手術也出現在《夏日癡魂》(Suddenly, Last Summer)裡。《玻璃動物園》裡的母親阿曼達可以被視為就是威廉斯的母親,劇中的湯姆則可視為是威廉斯自己。

在回憶錄裡,威廉斯剖陳自己在二十歲前就在性方面很主動,而根據Leo Leverich所著的傳記,這發生在他將近三十歲的時候。他與他的助裡兼同性愛人法蘭克·梅洛的關係從1947年開始,直到1963年梅洛過世為止。在他們相處的期間,梅洛對於威廉斯是個安定的力量,他多次平撫了威廉斯憂鬱症的發作,因為威廉斯害怕自己也像姊姊蘿拉一樣發狂。然而梅洛因癌症過世之後,長達十多年的憂鬱症問題就一直困擾著威蓮斯。

威廉斯是反同性戀社會氣氛下的受害者,他曾在1979年遭到五名年輕男孩的攻擊,但沒有受到太嚴重的身體傷害。一些評論家說病態地墮落呈現在他的作品裡,另一些則相信這是威廉斯在反抗自己是同性戀者的事實。

1983年,威廉斯在紐約一棟旅館裡,被瓶蓋噎住呼吸道窒息而死,享年71歲。然而有些人認為(包含他弟弟Dakin)威廉斯是被謀殺而死。而警方的報告顯示他的死亡可能與用藥不當有著關係。他房間被發現有些成藥,可能因為藥物或酒精的影響,導致無法從適當地反應窒息且從他喉嚨取出瓶蓋而致死。

[编辑] 作品

[编辑] 戏剧

  • Beauty Is the Word (1930)
  • 開羅!上海!孟買!Cairo! Shanghai! Bombay! (1935)
  • Candles to the Sun (1936)
  • The Magic Tower (1936)
  • Fugitive Kind (1937)
  • Spring Storm (1937)
  • Summer at the Lake (1937)
  • The Palooka (1937)
  • The Fat Man's Wife (1938)
  • Not about Nightingales (1938)
  • Adam and Eve on a Ferry (1939)
  • Battle of Angels (1940)
  • The Parade or Approaching the End of Summer (1940)
  • The Long Goodbye (1940)
  • Auto Da Fé (1941)
  • The Lady of Larkspur Lotion (1941)
  • At Liberty (1942)
  • The Pink Room (1943)
  • The Gentleman Callers (1944)
  • The Glass Menagerie (1944)
  • You Touched Me (1945)
  • Moony's Kid Don't Cry (1946)
  • This Property is Condemned (1946)
  • Twenty-Seven Wagons Full of Cotton (1946)
  • Portait of a Madonna (1946)
  • The Last of My Solid Gold Watches (1947)
  • Stairs to the Roof (1947)
  • 慾望街車A Streetcar Named Desire (1947)
  • Summer and Smoke (1948)
  • I Rise in Flame, Cried the Phoenix (1951)
  • The Rose Tattoo (1951)
  • Camino Real (1953)
  • Hello from Bertha (1954)
  • Lord Byron's Love Letter (1955) - libretto
  • Three Players of a Summer Game (1955)
  • 熱鐵皮屋頂上的貓Cat On a Hot Tin Roof (1955)
  • The Dark Room (1956)
  • The Case of the Crushed Petunias (1956)
  • Baby Doll (1956) - original screenplay
  • Orpheus Descending (1957)
  • Suddenly, Last Summer (1958)
  • A Perfect Anaysis Given by a Parrot (1958)
  • Garden District (1958)
  • Something Unspoken (1958)
  • Sweet Bird of Youth (1959)
  • The Purification (1959)
  • And Tell Sad Stories of the Deaths of Queens (1959)
  • Period of Adjustment (1960)
  • The Night of the Iguana (1961)
  • The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore (1963)
  • The Eccentricities of a Nightingale (1964)
  • Grand (1964)
  • Slapstick Tragedy (The Mutilated and The Gnädiges Fräulein) (1966)
  • The Mutilated (1967)
  • Kingdom of Earth / Seven Descents of Myrtle (1968)
  • Now the Cats with Jewelled Claws (1969)
  • In the Bar of a Tokyo Hotel (1969)
  • Will Mr. Merriweather Return from Memphis? (1969)
  • I Can't Imagine Tomorrow (1970)
  • The Frosted Glass Coffin (1970)
  • Small Craft Warnings (1972)
  • Out Cry (1973)
  • The Two-Character Play (1973)
  • The Red Devil Battery Sign (1975)
  • Demolition Downtown (1976)
  • This Is (An Entertainment) (1976)
  • Vieux Carré (1977)
  • Tiger Tail (1978)
  • Kirche, Kŭche und Kinder (1979)
  • Creve Coeur (1979)
  • Lifeboat Drill (1979)
  • Clothes for a Summer Hotel (1980)
  • The Chalky White Substance (1980)
  • This Is Peaceable Kingdom / Good Luck God (1980)
  • Steps Must be Gentle (1980)
  • The Notebook of Trigorin (1980)
  • Something Cloudy, Something Clear (1981)
  • A House Not Meant to Stand (1982)
  • The One Exception (1983)

[编辑] 小说

  • The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone


主な作品



2008/7/自由時報
〈洛杉磯傳真〉 逐漸老去

◎王丹

大 約一年半以前,我在本欄曾經撰文〈突然出櫃在那年夏天〉介紹過美國戲劇大師田納西.威廉斯(Tinnessee Williams,sic)的故事,當時發現了他的一部遺失的戲劇作品手稿《遊行》。最近,又有一部他的遺失的手稿被發現,因為手稿上沒有名稱,就叫做《遺失的田 納西.威廉斯劇作》。上個週末,這部戲劇作品在洛杉磯的西好萊塢的海岸線劇場上演,我看的是最後一場演出,觀眾仍舊是爆滿,來晚的人只好坐在走道的台階 上。大師的號召力果然驚人。

新發現的作品其實是三個獨立的獨幕劇,分別由不同的導演和演員完成,但是排成三幕劇呈現,全長大約一個半小時。 第一幕〈Paradise先生〉,描寫一個曾經紅極一時的作家Mister Paradise在晚年窮困潦倒,蝸居在一家破爛的小旅館裡面。這時一位他的早年作品的崇拜者找到旅館,發誓要幫助他重新獲得世人的關注,但是知道一切逝 去的都不可能再現的他拒絕了。那位崇拜他的姑娘傷心而去,留下短暫之間曾經回到光輝往日的老作家,又回到酒精的麻醉中。第二幕〈拳擊手〉,寫一個初出茅廬 的拳擊手在更衣室裡,聽一位老拳擊手回憶他的偶像當年的風采。第三幕〈變裝皇后之死的悲慘故事〉,則是寫一個自我認同極為女性化的男同性戀者愛上了一個異 性戀水手,為了留住水手,他幾乎把自己的一切都貢獻出來,而且並不要求任何回報,只希望對方能夠每天回來,讓他有一個家的感覺。最後水手搶劫並毆打他後離 去,傷心欲絕的他只能悲歎年華老去的孤獨。

必須要說明的是,第三幕是田納西.威廉斯寫於1959年的作品,也是迄今為止他的作品中最直接描 寫到同志議題的一部。1950年代的美國,同志運動還沒有開展,不難想像,這樣的戲劇是不可能被社會接受的,更談不上上演。當年的田納西.威廉斯並沒有公 開自己的同志身分,但是他內心並未迴避認同問題,這才有了這部五十年之後才重見天日的作品。

儘管三場獨幕劇分別寫於不同的時間,但是把它們 連接在一起十分恰當,因為三個獨幕劇,處理的其實都是一個相同的主題,那就是「老去」。無論是知道一切都已經變化了的老作家,還是只能在回憶中體驗勝利的 風采的老拳擊手,以及因為已經老去而瘋狂渴望家庭生活的男同性戀者,他們都面臨如何面對老去的挑戰,而且基本上都是失敗者。田納西.威廉斯用三個故事,充 分表現了人在時間面前的軟弱,和無法挽回過去的那種無奈。第一幕有一句台詞「變化是存在的核心」(change is the heart of existence),一語道出了那種無奈的心情。晚年的田納西.威廉斯面對一切他曾經珍愛的東西──愛人,家人,青春,朝氣以及健康──逐漸離去的現 實,他內心的蕭索全都寫進了這些作品。

對於一個作家來說,一切都會離去,唯有文字例外。●

2008年7月25日 星期五

Peter Drucker

----2005
妻讀了我寫的 Peter Drucker ,說想讀 My Years with General Motors。她說她也是『經營者』…..
我說你讀不下去。過兩天,我推薦她讀Drucker的回憶錄。
報紙上都一面倒。
我在1990-91年教東海化工系,就是用Peter Drucker的『管理學』(台灣1973約有三種翻譯),那時版權在聯經。不過,我也讀過,有人說『管理學』也只是泛泛之言而已。

敬弔 現代經營學、社會觀察大師 Peter Drucker
200511121955NHK廣播知道先生仙逝。(日美影響力、 員工是資產、 1965年三等瑞寶勳章……
Peter F. Drucker, a Pioneer in Social and Management Theory, Is Dead at 95

今天,看到廖月娟譯的先生《旁觀者:杜拉克回憶錄》(Adventures of a Bystander by Peter Ferdinand Drucker 1993重新發行)在大陸的機械工業出版社發行(台灣約10年前舊書)。
約半年前,我收聽先生的50分鐘收音機訪談。先生諄諄告誡美國人: 世界已經是多強國之局勢…….
像許多人一樣,我們從70年代初起,讀了先生二三十本的著作,受益良多……
約十年前,先生是少數可以用email The Economist 澄清觀點的人。
H. A. Simon的回憶錄上提過,與你等主講” (?)世銀亞洲論壇。
先生稱 W. E. Deming Ed.。你說,他對美國經營界有很深的挫折。
昨天,談 Sloan先生的 My Years With General Motors,引:「杜拉克在回憶錄上一章:「史隆的專業風彩」。1970s他為在發行的 My Years with General Motors 寫序。
○○五年八月,在《每日遇見杜拉克》出版前夕,編輯部透過本書的共同作者兼編者馬齊里洛教授,與杜拉克對話,完成了這篇越洋專訪。杜拉克和馬齊里洛是多年至交,從他們的對話裡,我們得以窺見仍然轉動不息的大師心智世界。以下便是專訪摘要。http://www.bookzone.com.tw/event/cb600/p01.asp

Q.
在所有的管理經典裡,您會推薦哪一本,可以做為現代管理者的智慧泉源?而又有哪些管理之外的領域,是值得現代管理者多所關注的呢?

A.
亞佛瑞史隆(Alfred Sloan)所著的《我與通用汽車》(My Years with General
Motors
),這是我推薦所有管理者閱讀的書。而管理者需要在經濟學、心理學以及政治科學方面多所涉獵。」



We tend to think of Drucker as forever old, a gnomic and mysterious elder. At least I always did. His speech, always slow and measured, was forever accented in that commanding Viennese. His wisdom could not have come from anyone who was young. So it's easy to forget his dashing youth, his long devotion to one woman and their four children (until the end, Drucker still greeted his wife of 71 years with an effusive "Hello, my darling!"), or even his deliciously self-deprecating sense of play.


2008年7月24日 星期四

Victor McKusick

Kyoto Prize,The Japan Prize (日本国際賞) , Praemium_Imperiale

我知道日本起碼有三大獎 國際馳名
Appreciation

A Genetics Pioneer Who Mapped the Inner World

Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, July 24, 2008; Page C01

Insights from the fully transcribed human genome -- those 3 billion letters of DNA -- will drive the medical discoveries of the 21st century and probably the 22nd century as well. And yet the person most responsible for this astonishing advancement seemed fully rooted in the 19th.

This Story

Not that Victor A. McKusick was born that long ago. The "father of medical genetics," and chief advocate of the once-outlandish notion of mapping and sequencing all the human genes, was born on Oct. 21, 1921. (This was a Friday; characteristically, he had researched the date.) He was 86 when he died Tuesday at his home outside Baltimore.

In education and interests, and to a great extent in work habits and demeanor, McKusick was from an era before his birth. He was from a time when lineage, locality and history shaped people's lives in ways they don't anymore.

It seems logical that McKusick's background -- he was a farm boy who grew up within a day's walk of where all four of his great-grandfathers had been born -- was a big part of the reason he was naturally drawn to genetics, the field of biology characterized by the simple persistence of things.

Add to that the fact that McKusick was an identical twin, and the deal was clinched. He was his own anecdotal evidence, a walking embodiment of how life is a conversation between what you bring in the form of genetic endowment and what you experience as a consequence of choice and chance.


McKusick's father had had an episode of exhaustion while working as a principal and school superintendent in Vermont. He was advised to seek outdoor work as a way to calm his nerves. (Similar advice was given to Robert Frost; that is what passed for psychiatric care in Northern New England at the time.) He moved back to his home town, Parkman, Maine, (pop. 550 in those years) and became a dairy farmer. Victor and his brother, Vincent, grew up there.

Like all dairy farmers, theirs was a life of early mornings, long silences and ceaseless work. McKusick went to a one-room elementary school. His high school offered no science courses.

Early on, though, Victor decided he wanted to be a physician. He attributed his interest to a 10-week sojourn as a teenager in Boston, where he was treated for a chronic skin infection he got from haying. (It was cured with sulfanilamide, which had just arrived in the medical armamentarium).

After college and medical school, both shortened by World War II, the physician settled into an academic career at Johns Hopkins. At the time he chose medical genetics as his field of interest, the number of human chromosomes was not known for certain. (The question was resolved in 1956, as 46 -- 23 pairs, including the sex chromosomes).

Consequently, much of his research consisted not of the laboratory-based, basic-science, disease-mechanism kind that makes the reputations of famous Johns Hopkins doctors. There just wasn't the knowledge or the tools to do that in medical genetics in the '50s and '60s.

The work was much more basic. McKusick's self-appointed task was to find diseases that appeared to be attributable -- all or mostly -- by inheritance, and then to prove the assertion by collecting incontrovertible genealogies.

McKusick became famous doing this among the Amish of Pennsylvania, a community descended from a few handfuls of founding families. Although averse to contact with outsiders, they accepted him, he believes, because he displayed the taciturn straightforwardness of a dairy farmer (and knew that weather and "relations" were big topics when it came time to talk). He and his colleagues ultimately became the stewards of medical care for many of these individuals.

Some of McKusick's colleagues viewed his research as the medical equivalent of stamp collecting. A few wondered if it was even science.

But McKusick perceived that the future of medicine -- and immense insight into the molecular gears and switches that are the science of life -- lay in the direction he was heading. If getting there required going house to house, examining babies, asking about grandparents, and talking about silage, he was more than happy to do it.

When he proposed, in the late 1960s, that all the human genes be mapped to the individual chromosomes in their own specified order, it was an idea that seemed preposterous, difficult and boring -- exactly what a medical researcher didn't want for a career goal.

In truth, it was that for a while.

McKusick, never a laboratory scientist, left the arduous work of gene-mapping to others. Back then, mapping a gene -- when it was possible -- took years. (Today, it pours out of an automated sequencer and computer in weeks).

Instead, he continued to look for heritable diseases and created a catalogue of what he and others found. He became the historian and compiler of mankind's emerging genome, which of course is itself a history and compilation of thousands of biological events, both successful and not.

"He was the one on the planet who held the faith and who thought that it was actually worthwhile to map the genes," Peter Goodfellow, a distinguished English geneticist, said last year.


McKusick testified before congressional committees, seeking support for the Human Genome Project. He would pull sequential editions of his catalogue, "Mendelian Inheritance in Man," from an L.L. Bean canvas bag and stand them up on the table. Each was thicker than the last. They stood as visual witnesses to the slow accretion of knowledge.

Genetics and genomics are not all of life. (After all, McKusick's identical twin became a lawyer, not a doctor). But for the moment, they are the future of medicine.

Victor McKusick was one of the first to know it.






胡大顧問 墓誌 學習型文明) 胡適日記全集 研究文庫目錄

2008
Google Books 胡適日記全集 Preview this book
By 胡適
聯經出版


(範圍:新文學運動及教育思想)






1999年暑期我上網多篇胡適之先生的短文......


胡適、戴明對話經營管理(1999/07)

緣起:

我極欣賞胡適先生。我以為,如果依古代傳統,稱孔子、孟子、朱子……,我們得尊稱他為「胡子」。

他精采的一生及作品,對整體中華文化會有深遠的影響,我們這講座很特別,是從胡適的一生作品,來談他對文化、學問、做人、對政府、學校等方面"經營管理"思想,以及這些如何與戴明思想作一對話的。

 

戴明(1900-1993)或許聽說過胡適(1891-1962)大名(待 考),然而胡適大概從未聽過戴明。不過,我以為胡適是少數有淵博知識系統的人,他又是極有影響力、前瞻的人、在文化上、政治、教育上,都極有成就,也留下 大量的作品和紀錄,成就很了不起。我們可以從多重角度來看胡適的遺產,例如從文學、哲學、史學、文化批評、教育家或行政家(外交官等),來考察胡適的種種 貢獻。我們今天的觀點比較特殊,是從行政學及管理學來談"胡說"。

首先,胡適遠比戴明博學的多,雖然胡適也勸人為學要如「金字塔」般求博求精,但基本上胡適是學者,他在論事、問世(做校長、大使、院長……) 都有貢獻,而戴明是管理顧問、「統計研究顧問」及兼任商學院教授。不過,他倆都是「美國製」的,都是受實用主義影響的,都相信「產官學」新經濟的重要。對 胡而言,他的產業是文化業及農業,而戴明的產業基本上是各行各業,尤其是工業。不過這樣比較,是得不出洞識力的。 我想,我們要看這兩位「愛國志士」終生要做的大事業之「一以貫之」之道才好。胡適的人格發展及歷練,都比戴明要平衡的多。胡適是紳士;戴明對有些大公司的 負責人等,則有「見大人則藐之」的「自卑感」這些只是小缺點,我以為他倆的人格,基本上都達到「情感-理智-意志」上平衡的發展。

對很多人而言,胡適的志向是自由,無為,容忍。戴明在這方面上多少能與胡適會通。我們姑且來看胡適一以貫之的精神:考據學(判案),與此對照,戴明也研究過統計學在法官決策系統的考量。

(1)胡大顧問

胡適極了不起,他1921年7月-8月到商務編譯所當顧問一個半月,作出極有內容的企業診斷,包括工作附加價值分析,最了不起的是推薦道德、學問、能力皆強的王雲五任副所長自代、組織、薪資分析、委員會設立、休假、圖書室/實驗室……等,指出商務員工皆無系統觀,無人知道全局、他們對待來賓、對待員工之道,也只是口惠不至……

我覺得胡的日記中,留下他作為"顧問"的極佳個案與風範,包括只收五百元(一半,約當時商務員工的最高新,偏低)當"短工"酬……。自己有自己的方向(年30歲就了解「今之學者為己」),勸雲五老師做學問要有問題,焦點……

真是了不起!顧問報告分(一)設備,(二)待遇,(三)政策,(四)組織,萬餘字,其先後次序安排與今日看法不同,甚有意思。

又請注意,商務老板夢旦先生素來對胡適的做人、學問極為欣賞,並了解商務的出版業務,必為中國之主流,掌握甚大的教育資源潛力,因而更需要有高手下海來經營才能達成此目的。


胡適墓誌(1999/08)

  不知為何與胡適的墓園失之交臂,每次來去南港,總是匆匆忙忙。1999年會比較不一樣了,因為偶然寫點《胡適經營學》,想用我的看法,讓胡適發揮十全的功夫。(大陸清算胡適思想時,分九類別(方向)向胡適射亂箭。唐德剛以為胡適對禪/佛的偏見,算得上第十類,我想,這太小看胡適思想了。我的《經營學》比較可能補成胡適的”十全”武功。)

  中研院的朋友力邀我去南港,並會簡介胡適墓園的平實之風,最近我看了些照片與資料,多少可以先做點功課。

  我在《羅家倫先生文存》*第十二冊的第七十二頁,看到<胡適墓誌>:

 「這位為學術文化進步,為思想言論自由,為維護民族的尊榮,為增進人類的幸福而勞心焦思,不惜耗盡自己一切生命力量的人──胡適先生──安眠在此地。

  該文有一按語,對我們更重要、有趣。當然,或許有人可以考據一下,真正的墓誌文字,究竟是由哪些人修改而成的:

 「這是胡適先生(民前二十一──民國五十一年)的墓。這個為學術和文化進步,為思想和言論的自由,為民族的 尊榮,為人類的幸福而苦心焦慮,敝精勞神以致身死的人,現在在這裡安息了!我們相信,形骸終要化滅,陵谷也會變遷,但現在墓中這位哲人所給予世界的光明, 將永遠存在!」

  有意思的是,該文給胡適的不朽論,竟不是胡的三不朽(楊聯陞先生在給《陳世驤先生選集》作序敬輓,就是用胡適的話來破題的--該文功力不凡),或是像我們在<華爾街院長>中了解的,B. Graham的墓誌銘是刻了他與胡適都極喜愛的丁尼生 (Alfred, Lord Tennyson 1833)詩歌 “Ulysses”的句子。Wikipedia article "Ulysses (poem)". (詳《努力、探尋、發現、永不退讓、不屈服》)

  胡適的墓誌銘「這位哲人所給予世界的光明,將永遠 存在!」是西方式的表現法。我們可以分宗教和愛國兩方面來談「光(明)」。宗教上,基督教或耶和華最先給世界光的。世俗上講,因中國處於落後地位,許多” 留學生”去西方,也是要求”曙光”的,這與自認為「中國文藝復興之父」的胡適,尤其適切。

  墓誌銘其次說了這兒安息的人,是「為學術和文化的進步,為思想和言論的自由,為民族的尊崇,為人類的幸福而苦心焦慮,敝精勞神而致身死的人

  我們先談「敝精勞神」。胡適晚年清醒的時間的三分之二,都是用來送往迎來的,所以寫文章要移到三更半夜才能享受(或盡責,他寫文章要考據是有使命感,示範作用和自勉的)。

  近來大家多偏向於談胡適的自由主義思想和言論自由上的貢獻,尤其是《自由中國》雷震案與台灣的自由發展史更有密切的關係。其實,「寧鳴而死,不默而生」正是他一輩子的宗旨。胡適為雷震案固然「苦心焦慮」,其實他一輩子也常在救朋友,如陳獨秀入牢,周作人的審判等等

  「民族的尊榮」可能是指胡適任大使及辦《獨立群論》談國事(......抗戰,所以存民族之命脈

  我想重點應是他為「學術文化之進步」:在學術及文化上,胡適是有歷史的獨特地位及貢獻的。

*2008年補--最近看到中國某書專題談羅先生 妙的是 根據極少數之資料可以大言不慚"研究"之.....


胡適的學習型文明(1999/08)

  九0年代興起「學習型組織」或「智識管理」等等方面的探討熱潮。

  其實胡適等人所領導的中國文藝復興運動,其真義為採取尼采的”重新估定一切價值”(transvaluation of all values),是更廣義的社會、文明之改造。因此,胡適的模式是可以從「組織與學習」的角度來研究的。我們可以從《胡適口述自傳》的第八章<從文學革命到文藝復興>來了解它。下述是他為”中國文藝復興運動”所下的定義(用企管的術語,叫做目的說明書(Purpose statement)

 「通過嚴肅分析我們面臨的活生生的問題;通過由輸入的新學理、新觀念、新思想來幫助和解決這些問題;通過以相同的批判的態度對我國固有文明的了解和重建,我們這一運動的結果,就會產生一個新的文明來。」

  他在第十章又說:中國文藝復興運動有四重目的:

  1. 研究問題,特殊的問題和今日迫切的問題;
  2. 輸入學理,從海外輸入那些適合我們做參考和比較研究用的學理;
  3. 整理國故;〔把三千年來支離破碎的古學,用科學方法做一番有系統的整理〕
  4. 再造文明,這是以上三項綜合起來的最後目的。

  有意思的是,人們大約每隔十年,在海內、外,都會對這一活動實施改頭換面的新訴求(例如蔣介石的「倫理、民主、科學」)和學術性評估研討。而關於中國的轉型,究竟是要考慮「生產方式」或只就文化而言,這仍是見仁見智的。

  我們如果從「學習的共同體(learning community)」的觀點,來談胡適的「師長、朋友、文章」在中外學術、文化、教育界、政界、產業界等的互動,就是一首「學習型文明」的史詩。我們可以談談這個共同體價值觀的建立,做人處事(立德、立言、立功)風格的建立及其績效(成績單)。

  我們也可以就他們所提出的問題,追蹤並了解其進程。當然,這牽涉到海峽兩岸廿世紀的文明總評估,工程浩大,但卻是應該做的,而且可行的事。

  不過,我們別忘了我們的議題的基本假設或許可能有根本的瑕疵,因為要將「學習」要從個人推廣到組織、社 會,很可能因為太複雜而流於空泛,正如許多人不信「總體經濟學」或「組織學習」般(很難印證)。我的意見是這一假設,或可以給我們思考一些根本而重要的問 題。從學術上看,這是一大膽的假設。

2008年7月23日 星期三

Tawney, Richard Henry

Columbia Encyclopedia: Tawney, Richard Henry
(') , 1880–1962, British economic historian, b. Calcutta (now Kolkata). He was professor at the Univ. of London from 1931 to 1949. A leading socialist, Tawney helped to formulate the economic and ethical views of the British Labour party through his many essays and books, and he participated in numerous government bodies concerned with education, trade, and industry. As a scholar Tawney was a foremost expert on early modern capitalism. His works include the classic The Agrarian Problem in the 16th Century (1912), which describes the creation of capitalistic modes of production, of an enclosure movement, and of a vigorous rising gentry in rural England. Religion and the Rise of Capitalism (1926) examines the relationship between the Protestant ethic and early capitalism. Among his other significant volumes are The Acquisitive Society (1920), Equality (1931, 4th ed. 1952), and Land and Labour in China (1932).

Bibliography

See R. Terrill, R. H. Tawney and His Times (1973).

託內教授《16世紀農業問題》認為16世紀"小契約租地農"只佔三類農民總戶數的12.6%,則"大契約租地農"(即資本家租地農場主——筆者)佔農民總戶數的4.2%......




Richard Henry Tawney (1880 - 1962) was an English writer, economist, historian, social critic and university professor and a leading advocate of Christian Socialism. Richard Tawney has been called "the patron saint of adult education". [1]

Wikipedia article "R. H. Tawney".

英國1977-78的Essex 大學,離創校校長1963 Dr Albert Sloman到BBC發表Reith Lectures『一所新興大學之遠景』 A University in The Making(據說,他談Essex大學校地Wivenhoe Park風景優美,所以學生宿舍必須「起高樓」方式(每棟tower十來層,每樓約9-12間,每層樓約住10名學生,可以男女各居一室共處之,這在近50年前可能很新潮)。記得有六棟這種towers。大樓名字都取(政經)著名大學者紀念(英國學術天空巨星雲集,能選上代表是公認的,如羅素、凱因斯…….)。我住紀念R. H. Tawney的--那時我搞不清楚Tawney先生何許人,真是失敬:多年之後我讀他的書和紀念網頁,思考是否該翻譯一本他的著作留念。


社會經濟氛圍注定會天生英才名家Tawney,
Richard Henry1880 —1962)他是一位富有社會學修養的文明評論家 他在名著《宗教資本主義的興起……..

R. H. Tawney《中國的土地勞力Land and Labour in China (1932).張漢裕譯,協志工業叢書,1995;原書1929年出版)其中有許多話很重要:
"國家所需要的是受過教育的人,不是沒受過教育的畢業生, 再不可為了大量生產而犧牲內容。應該側重教學生自己思考─這是比較廢力的事".中譯本,p. 206

R. H. Tawney的《宗教資本主義的興起 1924》Religion and the Rise of Capitalism, (1926);趙月瑟 夏鎮平 譯,上海:上海譯文出版社,2006
歷史學家 RH Tawney 就認為中世紀的文藝復興,理性和啟蒙才是現代資本主義精神的主要來源 , 不具有發生學上的重要性 。 但是 從西方理性化 、 文藝復興的歷史以及學術崛起的歷程看 , 宗教在其中實際都是很重要的角色 , 神學是當時的顯學 ...









2008年7月17日 星期四

我所不認識的大野先生

我所不認識的大野先生

我所不認識的大野先生是1977-78年東京大學與英國 Essex 大學交換學生
他是學物理的 在Essex 取得 電腦科學碩士
他去一趟劍橋大學 頗激動 說一並定要去那兒進修
我很羨慕他拿公費 可以到倫敦買許多"電腦科學相關"的書 這些多相當貴的
1978年暑假 我一起與他從倫敦去愛丁堡參加"藝術大拜拜"

我們在倫敦公園聽到鳥鳴
他堅決認為它跟東京的"錄音"類似
讓我"不可思議"....
我們去看愛丁堡當年的特別決節目
"仲夏夜之夢"
我們都如墜五里霧中 不知莎士比亞在攪什麼"翻譯".....


那天 我要查他現在的芳蹤 雖然我只知道他叫 Ono
這樣稱呼他很不客氣呢 真失禮
他真有先見之明
在那12小時不到就決定趕車回 Colchester
因為我們沒預定旅館
他也許想他的床....

2008年7月15日 星期二

Michael DeBakey, Rebuilder of Hearts

心臟搭橋手術始創者辭世享年99
美國著名心臟外科醫生米高﹒德貝基(1999)
米高﹒德貝基享年99歲

因為始創促成心臟搭橋手術的相關步驟而成名的美國心臟外科醫生米高﹒德貝基(Michael DeBakey)逝世,享年99歲。

據有關官員表示,德貝基醫生當地時間星期五(7月11日)晚上在休斯敦循道衛理醫院死於自然。

德貝基兩年前因主動脈受損而接受手術時,所使用的手術步驟正是由他自己首創的。

德貝基醫生曾醫治的病人,包括許多世界領袖和國際名人巨星。

循道衛理醫院系統主席吉羅特說:“德貝基醫生的名聲使得許多人慕名而來,而他也把病人們悉數治愈:國家元首、演藝人士、商家和總裁,還有那些平凡不過的人們。”

“他改善了人道狀況,並觸動世世代代的生命。”

德貝基醫生是開發人造心臟與心臟泵等儀器的先行者,幫助了不少等候心臟移植的病人。他也幫助設計了許多醫療器材,包括心肺機的重要部件滾輪泵。這台器材使心臟手術得以實現。

德貝基醫生生前也因為一手把休斯敦貝勒醫學院發展成美國全國首屈一指的醫學院而贏得美譽。


Michael DeBakey, Rebuilder of Hearts, Dies at 99

Associated Press

Dr. Christiaan Barnard of South Africa, left, with Dr. Michael E. DeBakey and Dr. Adrian Kantrowitz of Brooklyn in 1967.


Published: July 13, 2008

Dr. Michael E. DeBakey, whose innovative heart and blood vessel operations made him one of the most influential doctors in the United States, died Friday night in Houston, where he lived. He was 99.

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Michael Stravato for The New York Times

Dr. Michael E. DeBakey, in 2006, at his Houston office, where corridors are lined with pictures of his patients, many of whom were famous.

Associated Press

Dr. Michael E. DeBakey performs open-heart surgery in Saudi Arabia in May 1978.

His death at the Methodist Hospital was announced by the hospital and Baylor College of Medicine, where Dr. DeBakey was chancellor emeritus.

“Many consider Michael E. DeBakey to be the greatest surgeon ever,” The Journal of the American Medical Association said in 2005.

Dr. DeBakey’s pioneering surgical procedures in bypassing blocked arteries in the neck, legs and heart have been performed on millions of patients around the world. By the time he stopped a regular surgical schedule, when he was in his 80s, he had performed more than 60,000 operations.

He was also instrumental in making Houston a major center for heart surgery and research and transforming Baylor into one of the nation’s great medical education and research institutions.

And he was a leader in developing mechanical devices to assist failing hearts. An early invention, the roller pump, devised while he was in medical school in the 1930s, became the central component of the heart-lung machine, which takes over the functions of the heart and lungs during surgery by supplying oxygenated blood to the brain. It helped inaugurate the era of open-heart surgery.

One of Dr. DeBakey’s innovations helped preserve his own life in 2006, when he underwent surgery to repair a torn aorta. He had devised the operation 50 years earlier. He spent months making what he called a miraculous recovery and then returned to an active schedule.

A number of his surgical inno-vations and observations were initially ridiculed. While working at Tulane University in New Orleans in 1939, Dr. DeBakey and Dr. Alton Ochsner made one of the first links between cigarette smoking and lung cancer. Many prominent doctors derided the concept. Then, in 1964, the surgeon general documented the link.

Dr. DeBakey went on to discover — again in the face of professional skepticism — that Dacron grafts were excellent substitutes for damaged parts of arteries; the finding allowed surgeons to repair previously inoperable aneurysms of the aorta in the chest and abdomen.

His fame extended far outside operating rooms and medical colleges. His care of ailing world leaders made headlines. And with organizational and political skills and energy as enormous as his pride, Dr. DeBakey traveled the world well into advanced age, lecturing and helping to build cardiovascular centers. In 2005 alone he made four international trips.

In the cold war, Dr. DeBakey made about 20 visits to Moscow to lecture. The trust he earned helped shape recent history when, in a consultation in Russia, he determined that President Boris N. Yeltsin, who had fallen ill during a re-election campaign in 1996, could undergo coronary bypass surgery. Yeltsin’s doctors had contended that the president could not survive an operation, Dr. DeBakey said.

That consultation was credited with saving Yeltsin’s presidency, if not his life. (Yeltsin died last year at 76.)

“Calling in Dr. DeBakey was very important, a signal that he was in very serious condition, and consulting with a world leader in surgery this way was almost unthinkable in the Soviet period,” said Marshall I. Goldman, a Russian expert and senior scholar at Harvard.

In World War II, Dr. DeBakey helped modernize battlefield surgery by urging that doctors be moved from hospitals to the front lines, where only first aid had previously been given. Dr. DeBakey said that he and others created early versions of what became the mobile army surgical hospital, or MASH unit, in the Korean War. For changing the strategy of treating the wounded, the Army awarded him the Legion of Merit.

Dr. DeBakey also helped develop a medical program to care for returning war veterans. The Veterans Affairs hospital in Houston is named for him. And he was a driving force in rejuvenating the National Library of Medicine in Bethesda, Md., and turning it into the world’s leading repository of medical information.

Dr. DeBakey advised a number of presidents about health issues and, he said, consulted in the personal care of two of them: Lyndon B. Johnson and Richard M. Nixon. Even though Dr. DeBakey was on Nixon’s enemies list, the president invited him to the White House for a briefing after one of Dr. DeBakey’s visits to the Soviet Union.

Dr. DeBakey attributed his longevity in part to never having smoked and to genes that helped other members of his family live into their 90s. A relatively short man who looked 20 years younger than his age, he could fit into his Army uniform in his later years despite a lack of regular physical exercise, he said.

Even in his 90s, Dr. DeBakey arose at 5 a.m. every day, wrote in his study for two hours and then drove, often in a sports car, to the hospital, where he stayed until 6 p.m. After dinner, he usually returned to his library for more reading or writing before retiring after midnight.

Skilled Innovator

Michael Ellis DeBakey never lost the Southern drawl he acquired growing up in Lake Charles, La. He was born on Sept. 7, 1908, the oldest of five children of Lebanese-Christian immigrants who moved to the United States to escape religious intolerance in the Middle East. His parents chose Cajun country because French was spoken there, as it had been in Lebanon.

Dr. DeBakey credited much of his surgical success to his mother, Raheeja, for teaching him to sew, crochet and knit.

He was inspired to become a doctor from chats with local physicians while he worked at a pharmacy owned by his father, Shaker Morris DeBakey, who also owned rice farms.

While attending schools in Lake Charles and earning undergraduate and medical degrees from Tulane, he played the saxophone and clarinet in a band.

As a medical student, he showed a gift for innovation when an instructor asked him to find a pump to study pulse waves in arteries. From library research, he fashioned older pumps and rubber tubing into one that served the instructor’s purpose, calling it a roller pump.

This was before the time of blood banks, so Dr. DeBakey used the pump to transfuse blood directly from a donor to a patient. The pump was later adapted for use in the heart-lung machine.

After finishing his training at Charity Hospital in New Orleans in 1935, Dr. DeBakey started out as a general surgeon. At the time, few doctors specialized in heart and chest surgery. Young American doctors who aspired to academic careers typically sought further training in Europe. Dr. DeBakey enrolled at the University of Strasbourg in France and then the University of Heidelberg in Germany.

While working at Tulane, he was appointed chairman of the department of surgery at Baylor College of Medicine in Houston. He found that the department was on academic probation and broke. In his first weeks there, in 1948, he learned that a promised affiliation with a hospital in Houston had fallen through and that the hospital’s doctors would accordingly not let him operate on their patients. With nowhere to teach young doctors, Dr. DeBakey was about to resign.

But then the Truman administration asked him to help transfer Houston’s Navy hospital to the Veterans Administration. Seizing on the opportunity, he stayed on at Baylor to help make the veterans hospital Baylor’s first official hospital affiliate and build Houston’s first surgical residency program.

Dr. DeBakey had a knack for recruiting good surgeons who played key roles in many of his successes. One was Dr. Denton A. Cooley, who was Dr. DeBakey’s protégé until a rift left them bitter rivals for nearly 40 years.

In his lectures, Dr. DeBakey, an inveterate name-dropper, often showed photographs of his celebrated patients and spoke about their ailments. Among the notables were the deposed shah of Iran, Mohammed Reza Pahlavi; the duke of Windsor, the former King Edward VIII of England; Marlene Dietrich; Joe Louis; Leo Durocher, the baseball manager; and Jerry Lewis. His spacious office in Houston and the long corridors leading to it were lined with framed awards and pictures autographed by many of his patients.

Surgery Pioneer

The main focus of Dr. DeBakey’s surgical innovations was arteriosclerosis, a systemic disease in which fatty deposits can damage arteries feeding the heart and other tissues, leading to heart attacks, strokes and loss of limbs.

When Dr. DeBakey began his career, surgeons could do little for arteriosclerosis. He was a leader among those who demonstrated otherwise.

Dr. Allan D. Callow, a vascular surgeon and emeritus professor of surgery at Tufts University, said Dr. DeBakey had recognized that the damage from arteriosclerosis was often limited to critical areas in arteries and that these areas could be cut out or bypassed surgically.

In 1952, Dr. DeBakey successfully repaired an aortic aneurysm — a ballooning of an artery — by cutting out the damaged segment in the abdomen and replacing it with a graft from a cadaver. In 1953, he successfully repaired a blocked carotid artery in the neck. The blockage threatened to cause a stroke by choking off blood flow to part of the brain.

Luck played a big role in one of Dr. DeBakey’s major innovations.

Seeking to use synthetic instead of cadaver grafts, he went to a department store to buy some nylon. The store had run out of it, so a clerk suggested a new product, Dacron. Dr. DeBakey liked its feel, bought a yard and then used his wife’s sewing machine — he was married to the former Diana Cooper at the time — to create his first artificial arterial patches and tubes.

He went on to collaborate with a textile engineer in Philadelphia to produce Dacron arterial grafts in large numbers.

Dacron turned out to last for decades as a surgical graft; nylon, by contrast, broke down after about a year.

Many doctors initially scoffed at Dr. DeBakey’s claim about Dacron, in part because he had a tendency, like a number of other surgeons, not to report failures. But when the critics went to Houston, they found he was operating on many patients and was far ahead of them.

That work won Dr. DeBakey a Lasker Award, the country’s most prestigious biomedical prize, in 1963. He was cited for a number of accomplishments that were “responsible in a large measure for inaugurating a new era in cardiovascular surgery.”

In 1964, President Johnson appointed Dr. DeBakey chairman of the President’s Commission on Heart Disease, Cancer and Stroke, which went on to raise standards of care for these diseases.

Dr. DeBakey was a pioneer in performing coronary bypass operations. In one of his last lectures, at the New York Academy of Medicine in Manhattan in November 2005, Dr. DeBakey said that his team had performed the first successful coronary bypass operation, in 1964, but that it did not report it until 1974.

Critics say Dr. DeBakey was eager to claim credit for innovations or exaggerate his role in making them, but since no biography of Dr. DeBakey or thorough analysis of his hundreds of scientific papers has been published, it will be left to medical historians to resolve such controversies.

Shortly after Dr. Christiaan N. Barnard performed the first human heart transplant in 1967, in Cape Town, South Africa, Dr. DeBakey followed, somewhat warily. His team was the first to transplant four organs — a heart, two kidneys and a lung — from one donor to different recipients.

Realizing that the demand for human heart transplants would outstrip the supply, Dr. DeBakey pursued the development of a total artificial heart as well as a partial one, known as a ventricular assist device, or VAD.

Dr. DeBakey is believed to have been the first to use a VAD successfully. Over 10 days in 1966, he weaned a woman from a heart-lung machine after heart surgery and then removed the device when her heart function improved. She died in an automobile accident several years later.

A number of such assisting devices, including a small one bearing Dr. DeBakey’s name, are now marketed or are being tested among patients with severe heart failure. The use of the total artificial heart that Dr. DeBakey was developing with Dr. Domingo S. Liotta led to a widely publicized scandal in 1969. On walking into a meeting at the National Institutes of Health, which was paying for the research, Dr. DeBakey was shocked to learn that hours earlier Dr. Cooley, his former colleague, had implanted an artificial heart in a patient for the first time. The device was the one the DeBakey team had been testing on calves.

The government ordered Baylor to investigate the unauthorized use of the experimental device. Using the artificial heart on the patient, Haskell Karp, was premature, Dr. DeBakey said, because of “discouraging results” in calves. He later called Dr. Cooley’s action a “childish” effort to claim a medical first.

Dr. Cooley, who had moved to another nearby Baylor institution, St. Luke’s Hospital, had never tested the device on animals and said he had implanted it as a desperate measure to keep Mr. Karp alive until he could do a transplant. But others contended that Dr. Cooley had secretly been planning to use the device for several months.

The American College of Surgeons censured Dr. Cooley, who resigned from Baylor, and for almost 40 years the two master surgeons rarely spoke, maintaining perhaps the most famous feud in medicine. But it ended last year, in a surprise reconciliation, when the two men warmly shook hands at a ceremony at St. Luke’s in which Dr. DeBakey received a lifetime achievement award from the Denton A. Cooley Cardiovascular Surgical Society.

Medical Politician

Dr. DeBakey said his ties to the former Soviet Union began after he befriended a small group of Soviet doctors who sat by themselves at a surgical meeting in Mexico in the 1950s. Dr. DeBakey took them to lunch and invited them to watch him operate in Houston on their way home. Later, they invited Dr. DeBakey to speak in the Soviet Union.

In 1973, Dr. DeBakey went to Moscow to operate on Mstislav Keldysh, a nuclear scientist and president of the Soviet Academy of Science. A year later, the Academy of Medical Sciences of the U.S.S.R. elected Dr. DeBakey a foreign member.

For 30 years, from 1964 to 1994, Dr. DeBakey served as chairman of the Albert and Mary Lasker Foundation’s medical research awards jury. Contacts Dr. DeBakey made through the foundation led to referrals from around the world.

As a shrewd medical politician, Dr. DeBakey called on grateful patients and their families to help campaign for national legislation that created the National Library of Medicine; he enlisted them again to help ensure that the library would be part of the National Institutes of Health.

Dr. DeBakey never shied from controversy.

In the early 1960s, he attended a press conference at the White House with President John F. Kennedy to support the creation of the federal Medicare health insurance plan, bucking the American Medical Association, which had given him its Distinguished Service award in 1959. The Medicare legislation passed in 1965 under President Johnson.

Dr. DeBakey said his greatest professional disappointment was in not solving the mystery of arteriosclerosis; he never accepted cholesterol as the dominant factor in producing the disease. In the 1980s, Dr. DeBakey was among the first to explore whether a virus or other infectious agent might lead to arteriosclerosis, a link scientists continue to explore.

In 1969, Johnson awarded Dr. DeBakey the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the highest honor given a United States citizen. In 1987, President Ronald Reagan awarded him the National Medal of Science. In April, he received the Congressional Gold Medal, Congress’s highest civilian honor, in a ceremony attended by President Bush.

Dr. DeBakey’s first wife, Diana, died in 1972. His survivors include his second wife, the former Katrin Fehlhaber, who had been a film actress in Germany; their daughter, Olga-Katarina; two sons from his first marriage, Michael and Dennis; two sisters; and a number of grandchildren. Two sons, Ernest and Barry, died earlier.

Dr. DeBakey was a perfectionist, intolerant of incompetence, sloppy thinking and laziness. Before mellowing in his later years, he had a reputation for sometimes tyrannical behavior in firing assistants for making relatively minor errors like cutting a suture to the wrong length.

“If you were on the operating table,” Dr. DeBakey said, “would you want a perfectionist or somebody who cared little for detail?”

Dr. Jeremy R. Morton, a retired heart surgeon in Portland, Me., who trained under Dr. DeBakey, said: “He could be sweet as dripping honey when it came to patients and medical students, but could be brutal with surgical residents.

“I guess he was trying to make us tough.”

2008年7月12日 星期六

Samuel Pepys


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


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.

2008年7月6日 星期日

Nadal Ends Federer’s Reign at Wimbledon

Nadal is triumphant after unforgettable Wimbledon epic

By the time it was over, at 9.15pm, it had become almost impossible to see the ball, yet all eyes remained riveted. There was, after all, an extraordinary afterglow, provided by arguably the greatest tennis match ever played.

Nadal Ends Federer’s Reign at Wimbledon

Felipe Trueba/European Pressphoto Agency

Rafael Nadal posing for photographers after his victory over Roger Federer in the men's final at Wimbledon on Sunday. More Photos >


Published: July 7, 2008

WIMBLEDON, England — No man had beaten Roger Federer at Wimbledon since 2002. But in near darkness, one of the greatest tennis matches ever played concluded in the Wimbledon final Sunday with Roger Federer hitting a short forehand into the net and with a victorious Rafael Nadal flat on his back with camera flashes illuminating his drained and delighted face.

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Nadal had come the closest to ending Federer’s streak at Wimbledon in last year’s final, pushing his friendly rival to five sets before ending up in tears in the locker room as Federer equaled Bjorn Borg’s modern men’s record with his fifth straight title.

Last year’s emotional tussle immediately took its place among the best Wimbledon finals, but this five-set classic — played on a rainy, gusty day — was better yet.

At 4 hours 48 minutes, it was the longest singles final in Wimbledon’s 131-year history and did not finish until 9:16 p.m. local time.

“The most important thing is to win the title,” said Nadal, who won, 6-4, 6-4, 6-7 (5), 6-7 (8), 9-7. “After that, you think about winning against the No. 1, probably the best player in history or close, and the fact it was so dramatic. But it’s one of the most powerful feelings I’ve had in my life.”

By the end, as hard as it was to see, the top-seeded Federer and the second-seeded Nadal had produced so much brilliant tennis under pressure that it seemed the most normal thing in the world that Federer smacked yet another ace to get out of trouble or that Nadal hunted down yet another sharply angled ground stroke and ripped an off-balance passing shot for a winner.

The capacity crowd at Centre Court, which had not diminished through two rain delays, continually roared with delight or surprise and took turns chanting each combatant’s first name, which is not the way these things usually work at proper Wimbledon.

“Probably my hardest loss, by far; I mean it’s not much harder than this right now,” Federer said later, his voice muted and his eyes red.

The loss kept Federer from matching the men’s record of six consecutive Wimbledon titles set by Britain’s William Renshaw in the 19th century. Federer had won 65 straight matches on grass.

“I’m disappointed, and I’m crushed,” Federer said. “He played a super match, and I’m sure it was a great match to watch and to play, but it’s all over now. I need some time.”

Federer, 26, earned himself more time on Centre Court by saving two match points in the fourth-set tie breaker. He was later only two points from victory himself with Nadal serving at 4-5, 30-all in the fifth set. But Nadal, like his opponent, has a remarkable will as well as a remarkable topspin forehand.

And although Federer kept chipping and ripping away at Nadal’s service games, he broke him just once in the match, and that was early in the second set. In all, Federer squandered 12 of 13 break-point opportunities.

Nadal, a Spaniard whose serve was once considered his weakness, converted 4 of his 13 chances against Federer, none more important than the break that came when Federer, serving at 7-7 in the fifth, took a huge cut at a short forehand and knocked it just long.

Nadal, seldom short of positive energy, leapt with delight and hustled to his chair to prepare to serve for the championship. It was 9:10 p.m. in London when he walked to the baseline, and the light was so dim at the end of this intermittently rainy day that both players were concerned.

“I almost couldn’t see who I was playing,” Federer said, shaking his head.

Nadal agreed. “In the last game, I didn’t see nothing,” he said. “Was unbelievable. I thought we have to stop.”

Wimbledon’s organizers have pushed their sessions to the limit this year, with other matches finishing at 9:30 p.m. Not finishing on Sunday would have forced the tournament to extend to Monday, with all the logistical challenges that would have entailed.

“It would have been brutal for fans, for media, for us, for everybody to come back tomorrow, but what are you going to do?” Federer said. “It’s rough on me now, obviously, to lose the biggest tournament in the world over maybe a bit of light.”

But Nadal still had to hold serve one more time to get his hands (and teeth) on the gold-plated Challenge Cup. And although Federer did save a third match point at 40-30 with a bold backhand return that Nadal could not handle, Federer could not save the last, which came two points later.

As soon as Federer’s forehand hit the net, Nadal dropped to the grass as if he had been hurled there, his racket flying out of his left hand. Among those standing and cheering in the front row of the Royal Box were Manuel Santana and Borg.

Nadal, a 22-year-old from Majorca, joined them both on Sunday by becoming the first man to complete the grueling French Open-Wimbledon double in the same year since Borg in 1980 and also becoming the first Spanish man to win here since Santana in 1966.

After four straight titles in Paris, Nadal finally had a Grand Slam title on a surface other than clay.

Nadal wanted to share his victory with his family, and after shaking Federer’s hand, he climbed into the players’ box to hug his parents, Sebastian and Ana Maria, and his coach and uncle, Toni. Nadal then became the first Wimbledon champion to walk across the sloped roof of the commentary booths to the royal box —flashbulbs lighting his way — to shake the hand of Spanish Crown Prince Felipe and Princess Letizia.

As is his custom, Nadal did not strike a triumphant tone in victory. He has long been deeply respectful of Federer, even as he has built a 12-6 career record against him and beaten him in the last three French Open finals.

“He’s still the best,” Nadal said. “He’s still five-time champion here. Right now I have one, so for me, it’s a very, very important day.”

Federer, who had not dropped a set until the final, will still be ranked No. 1 on Monday, but this has clearly been Nadal’s season, with victories in two of the first three Grand Slam tournaments.

Federer came into 2008 hoping to match Pete Sampras’s record of 14 Grand Slam singles titles. He is still holding at 12, with his only tournament victories this year coming in minor tour events.

Federer certainly responded like a champion to Nadal’s pressure on Sunday, and he also dispelled concerns that — after winning just four games against Nadal in last month’s lopsided French Open final — he would be unable to stay with the physically imposing Nadal on grass.

But Federer said losing big on clay was a pinprick compared with the sledgehammer blow of losing by so little here. “There’s not even a comparison,” he said. “This is a disaster. Paris was nothing in comparison.”

Down by two sets to love, Federer worked his way back into contention, weathering an 81-minute rain delay late in the third set, and then controlling the ensuing tie breaker with four aces and a service winner.

In the fourth-set tie breaker, Nadal took control and led, 5-2, with two serves to come, but instead of closing out the match, he played tentatively for the first time, double-faulting and then hitting a backhand weakly in the net. “I got nervous,” Nadal said.

It happens, even to indefatigable Spaniards, but Federer showed no nerves on the two match points soon to come. He saved the first at 6-7 with another service winner. He saved the second at 7-8 with a magnificent, pressure-proof backhand passing-shot winner down the line, after Nadal jerked Federer wide with a forehand approach shot.

But Nadal hardly looked like a broken man as they headed to a fifth set. “How can you not be 100 percent concentrated with sky-high motivation?” he said.

The sky was still a problem, however. Rain drove the players off court once more early in the fifth set with the score 2-2, deuce on Federer’s serve. But while a Monday finish was looking increasingly likely, the skies cleared, the tarp came off and the protagonists resumed play 28 minutes after they had stopped. They were able to finish just in time for the changing of the guard to be completed.

Not that Nadal is prepared to see it quite like that. “I don’t feel like the No. 1,” he said. “I’m not. I don’t like to feel that I’m something when I’m not.”

But there could be no doubt as he cried on court for a very different reason from last year — that Nadal now knows how it feels to be Wimbledon champion.

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