登臨臺北素書樓

從臺灣回北京快半個月了，心里老放不下一樁事：臺北士林區外雙溪臨溪路72號錢穆（字賓四）故居素書樓的楓樹到底怎么樣了?在秋冬的寒氣中，它還能像往年那樣擎起火焰般燦爛的一片云霞嗎?

我第一次去臺灣，第一次拜登素書樓，那是去臺灣參加中華炎黃文化研究會和輔仁大學、東吳大學等合作主辦的一個學術研討會，主人得知我是第一次到臺灣，就熱心地與紀念館聯系，作出安排，由紀念館的負責人開車來接我和同時參加會議的三叔去拜謁祖父錢穆的故居。

素書樓位于陽明山下緊鄰東吳大學，那是祖父生前最后二十多年生活、講學的居所。通過祖父的書籍、祖母的講述，通過父輩們幾次親臨帶回來的照片，我對于這個依山臨溪的小樓以及樓前的庭院，可謂神交已久。這座兩層小樓由祖母親手繪制藍圖而建，樓名也因祖父懷念曾祖母之無錫故居素書堂而命名，樓前庭院的一磚一石、一草一木，都是主人入住后親手營建種植、悉心澆灌培育的，經年累月，素書樓漸漸成為一個松竹挺立、楓梅橫斜、綠草茵茵、杜鵑競艷的小型園林。

去年11月12日的臺北正趕上降溫，風很大，天色也陰沉著。車在故居大門前停下，就看到那掛著祖父手跡“素書樓”三字的熟悉的大紅門呈現眼前。此時此刻我就仿佛看到祖父右手拄杖、左手執煙斗站在門前氣定神閑微笑著的樣子。祖父曾有詩句寫素書樓：“一園花樹，滿屋山川，無得無失，只此自然。”他曾在這里給學生講課，接待來訪賓客，我仿佛又聽到他那帶著濃重鄉音的娓娓而談。在這里，一群民族文化的有志之士們曾經懷著“志于道，據于德，依于仁，游于藝”的古訓，博文約禮，出入經史，關懷于天人之際，叩問于古今之變。于是乎，屋室雖小，卻滿眼山川，琴瑟悠揚，往昔與當下，自然與人文便融為一體。一園花樹中，要算松、竹最與主人貼近，那些弟子們為祖父在園中拍下的照片，特別是那兩幀站立在修竹下、端坐在古松旁的照片，成為我心中祖父品格與素書樓風骨交相融合的永恒形象。

進入大紅門，左側是一條斜坡小道，拾石級而上，兩旁楓樹夾道。祖母愛楓，她曾經寫道：

“大家都說臺灣氣候不寒，所以秋天楓葉不紅。有一年，寒流早臨，又遲遲未去。楓樹上的葉子尚未落盡，尤其是走完了臺階到平地的路旁那一棵，樹葉特別豐盛，一時都變紅了，顏色鮮艷，令人陶醉。而這棵樹的枝干本就姿態最美，真可入畫。我初見真覺滿心歡喜，離開了大陸二十多年，這是我第二次再見紅葉，更何況它長在我們自己的園中。這份欣喜豈是這支筆所能道盡的。……寒流未過，滿園蕭索，一派深秋景色。我特地沖了兩杯滾燙的咖啡與賓四兩人加了厚棉衣對坐廊下遙賞那一樹楓葉。我們回憶大陸的秋景，回憶多年前在美國耶魯大學附近小山去賞楓葉的往事，一個下午就在回憶中不知不覺的溜過了。”

原來，松竹可以常青，而楓葉盡染霜重紅透，卻并非南國寶島所能常見，所以，那張祖父母站立在紅楓下喜形于色的照片給人印象就更深，這是紅楓牽動了家國羈旅的情懷，同時也慰藉了千里之外游子心的寫照。

不過如今走在斜坡小道上，卻見兩旁楓樹的枝葉顯得稀稀疏疏，靠近門口的幾株更是樹枯葉黃。陪同我們參觀的故居管理處主任劉女士告訴說：這幾年楓樹得病了，有幾棵有枯死的危險，我們給它們打了針，施了藥，在盡力挽救它們。站在二樓的樓廊上，我看到窗下草坪前方的一棵松樹，亦已成了灰褐色，劉女士說，這是招了蟲害。幸而斜坡盡頭高高的一叢竹子，看起來還很健康，下方添了一牌子，標明“黃金竹”，是那我在四川成都見過的“金鑲玉”大竹子，它因高高直立的竹竿呈稻黃色，而稻黃色的竹竿上有翠綠色的縱向開線故名。環顧庭院，看到松、楓憔悴，但松下、竹下主人坐過的石凳還在，這讓人怦然遙想起當年……

在劉女士的陪同下我們參觀了小樓的上上下下。一樓的書房里，書桌上空空如也，桌后頂天立地的書架中，只有小部分架子中疏朗地放著一些新書，這像一個正在搬家的居室；二樓臥室旁邊一小間，則是完全空著，后來聽祖母說那原來是一個書庫。

故居路前僅幾十米處，眼下正在興建一個高樓，據說這是東吳大學的藝術館。素書樓二樓的樓廊為觀景賞月而設計，是主人當年眺望園景、休息閑話的地方。以前讀祖母的《樓廊閑話》一書，心里就無數遍地構想過這樣的情景：多少個暖陽里的冬晨，明月中的夏夜，還有細雨霏霏的春日和那鳴蟲啾啾的秋暮，素書樓主人雙雙倚靠在樓廊的藤椅上，騁懷游目，風光、景物、歷史、人文便都在喁喁低語中成為一篇篇談古說今、即物抒懷的“樓廊閑話”。我到來這里，不免也在廊上小坐，緬懷當年情景，不過眼前卻是一片高高的腳手架和隆隆的機器聲，想到將來大學藝術館的高樓建成，這感受不知又是什么滋味？

離開素書樓后，我們去祖父生前最后的居所，也是祖母現在的住地看望祖母。三個月前，祖母在她主持的一年一度的中華文化研習班期間在香港不慎跌倒，行動至今有些不便，而我算起來至少也有三年沒看到她了。坐定聊起來，這一回感覺做起事來一向精力充沛得讓我們后輩佩服的她，不免顯出衰老疲憊的樣子。知道我們剛從素書樓來，她自然要問起那里的一切，沒待我們回答，她隨即自語道：“那斜坡兩旁原有上千株的杜鵑，盛開時那么漂亮，現在沒有了吧?……我已經幾年沒有回去了，不能回去，……”

我感到她省略了下面三個字：“太傷感”。我也就沒忍心再告訴她楓樹的生病、松針的變色。是的，植物也是有感情的，它可以感知主人的殷切和真情，物換人移，那些纖弱的生命豈能一無變化?

我想對祖母說：素書樓成為紀念館，有專門機構和人員管理已然是幸事。留得青山在，那些花草縱使一時枯萎，今后應該還會有人來像你們當年那樣悉心栽培、經營庭院的，但我沒有說出口。

第二天，輔仁大學組織與會代表參觀臺北故宮博物院，一行人在旅游車上聽導游熱心地講解，這導游不年輕了，自己介紹說畢業于文化大學。旅游車帶著我又一次接近素書樓，車往故宮博物院開去，導游一路介紹說：這里是蔣介石先生故居，現在開放為“七林官邸”；這里是東吳大學；這里是張大千故居等等，但是他沒有說到同時開過的錢賓四故居素書樓。

鏈接：錢穆（1895-1990），字賓四，現代著名國學家、教育家，江蘇無錫人。30年代起，以其《先秦諸子系年》《劉向歆父子年譜》等著作震動學界，受聘到燕京大學、北京大學、清華大學、西南聯合大學等名校任教，與胡適、顧頡剛、馮友蘭、蒙文通、朱自清等人有論學之誼。先后出版《國史大綱》《中國文化史導論》《史記地名考》等名著，1949年離開大陸往香港，創辦新亞書院，1967年起移居臺灣， 1990年病逝于臺北杭州南路新遷寓所。身后有《錢賓四先生全集》54冊1700萬字存世。

A Visit to House of Pure Books in Taipei

By Qian Wanyue

One thing has been on my mind almost every day ever since I was back to Beijing from Taipei half a month ago: how are the maple trees around the House of Pure Books， the former residence of my grandfather Qian Mu at 72 Linxi Road， Taipei?

My first visit to Taiwan provided me with an opportunity to see the house for the first time. My third uncle and I were in the island province to attend an academic seminar. The warm-hearted host had made arrangements for us to visit the former residence， which has now turned into a memorial， and the president of the memorial house came all the way to pick us up.

I had known quite a lot about the house before I laid my eyes on it. Thanks to my grandfather’s books， my grandmother’s narrations， and photographs my father and uncles had brought back from Taiwan， I felt spiritually attached to the two-storied house， the stream adjacent to it and the garden in front of it. The house is situated at the foot of Mount Yangming and adjacent to Soochow University. My grandmother drew the blueprint and the house was named after my great grandmother’s namesake house in Wuxi， Jiangsu Province. My grandfather lived and taught for more than 20 years in the house. I had known for a long time that the garden in front of the house was developed by my grandparents year in year out until it teemed with azaleas as well as bamboos， pines， maples， and plum blossom trees.

My visit to the house took place on November 12， 2006， when the temperature dropped sharply as a result of an unusual cold front. It was windy and overcast. As soon as the car stopped outside of the house， I saw the name of the house above the red gate in my grandfather’s original handwriting. For a moment， I thought I saw him standing there， a walking stick in the right hand and a pipe in the left hand， smiling quietly and confidently. He used to meet friends and gave lectures to his students in the house. Those were his happy years when he and his friends searched truth， adhered to virtues and compassion， and devoted themselves to knowledge. Together they probed the truth of universe and man， and examined changes in history and modern times. The house was like a Shangri-La for him and his fellow scholars.

Inside the gate was a path on the left， leading upward the slope towards the house. The stone-step path was edged by maple trees. My grandmother once wrote a nostalgic essay， in which she reminisced about one wonderful afternoon she spent with my grandfather when maple leaves turned red unexpectedly in the usually warm autumn in Taiwan due to a cold spell that wouldn’t go away for a long while. With more cotton-padded jackets， they sat down outdoors with a cup of coffee， recalling the autumnal scenes on the mainland and a jaunt they had taken together years before to see red maple leaves in a small hill near Yale University.

But I was hugely disappointed at the sight of the maple trees. Some had sparse leaves. Some even had withered leaves. Madam Liu， director of the memorial management explained that the maple trees had been sick for years. Medicines had been applied to these sick trees and it would take a long while for the trees to turn around. She spelled out the management’s efforts to rescue the trees. Taking a commanding view on the balcony on the second floor， I noticed that a tall pine tree in the front lawn had turned grey. It had been attacked by some bad insects. Only a grove of bamboos stood tall in all its green and golden luxuries in sharp contrast to the emaciated look of pines and maples.

Madam Liu took us around in the house. Bookshelves were almost empty， some stacked with a few new books. A small room next to the bedroom on the second floor used to be a storage space for books， but it was completely empty now.

Just less then 50 meters away was a huge construction site. We were told that an art gallery would tower there， which would totally block out the sky view the House of Pure Books once enjoyed. The balcony on the second floor was built especially for the purpose of taking a poetic nightly view of the moon and starlit sky. I had dreamed of sitting there quietly to enjoy the view from the balcony. The sight of the monster scaffold and the roaring of the machines shattered my dream.

After the visit to the house， we went to visit my grandmother at another residence where my grandfather had spent his last days. My grandmother had suffered an accident in Hong Kong three months before when she was there as a host for an annual seminar on Chinese culture. She had difficulty getting around nowadays. I had not seen her for at least three years. After we sat down for a chat， I noticed her weariness. She used to be very dynamic and we all admired her for her legendary energy. Learning that we had just paid a visit to the former house， she began asking questions， but before I could make any answer， she murmured to herself， “There were nearly a thousand azaleas on the slope. How beautiful they were when they bloomed! Are they still there?”She said she had not visited the house for a few years and she could not let herself go back. I did not mention the appalling sickness of the maples and pines. I had wanted to say to her that the people at the memorial would take care of the trees and some new trees and flowers might be planted in the future. But I held back and said nothing of the kind.

The next day， the host took us on a sightseeing tour to the National Palace Museum in Taipei. On our way to the museum， we passed the House of Pure Books and some other residences of celebrated people and the Soochow University. A college graduate， the experienced guide pointed out attractions to us and talked about them enthusiastically as we traveled in a tour bus. But he never mentioned my grandfather’s former residence.

(Translated by David)