Читать книгу A Thousand Pieces of Gold: A Memoir of China’s Past Through its Proverbs - Adeline Mah Yen - Страница 7

As a little girl in Shanghai, I remember coming home from school in the afternoons and running up the stairs. The first thing I did was to dash into my grandfather Ye Ye’s room to see what he was doing. His room was next to the one I shared with my Aunt Baba, Father’s older sister. When he was in a good mood, he would be practising calligraphy and humming a tune from Beijing opera.

One day I asked him, ‘Ye Ye, what are these words that you are writing?’

‘They are proverbs.’

‘Why do you write proverbs when you practise calligraphy?’

He rested his brush on his inkstand and looked at me. ‘That is an excellent question!’ he answered. ‘Tell me, what is a proverb?’

‘A wise saying.’

‘Where do proverbs come from?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘The best proverbs come from our history. History describes the behaviour of people who lived in the past. Those people were our ancestors. We Chinese probably revere our ancestors and our history more than any other race. To us, history is not only a record of what has happened before. It is also a guide to educate children like yourself, giving you examples that will teach you how to live your life. Proverbs mirror the past to benefit the present.

‘Now, do you recognise the four characters that I am practising today? If you do, you can have a choice: a piece of candy from my jar or the legend behind these four words.’

With some difficulty, I read aloud the four characters, jiu niu yi mao (loss of one hair from nine oxen).

Ye Ye was delighted! ‘Since I’ve never told you stories from history before, today you get both the story and the candy. But only today! From now on, you’ll have to choose between the two.’

I nodded eagerly, sat on the floor by his chair and put the candy in my mouth as he began. The narrative he related was so fascinating that, despite my greed, I soon forgot about the candy. From then on, I often chose to listen rather than satisfy my longing for sweets.

My Ye Ye passed away many years ago, but his proverbs and the history behind them have remained in my mind. On one of the last occasions we were together, he said to me, ‘No matter what else people may steal from you, they will never be able to take the knowledge of these proverbs from your mind.’

In this book, I would like to share my knowledge, as well as my love of proverbs, with you.

When I first wrote the story of my Chinese family, I chose my grandfather’s favourite proverb for its title. Falling Leaves (return to their roots) is actually the second half of a couplet first published during the Song dynasty (AD 960–1279):

Shu gao qian zhang Luo ye gui gen.

Even if a tree reaches the height of ten thousand feet,

Falling leaves return to their roots.

Nowadays, the first half of the couplet is seldom used and only the second half is cited. ‘Falling leaves return to their roots’ symbolises the return of the wandering child to her ancestral home, as well as overseas Chinese going back to China or, for that matter, any ethnic group returning to their country of origin. Grandfather used to tell me that this proverb is a reminder that as a person gets older, he tends to go back to his beginnings.

In the 1980s, when Britain’s Margaret Thatcher and China’s Deng Xiaoping signed the agreement to return Hong Kong to China in 1997, Deng was asked by reporters to make a public statement. Instead of a lengthy speech, Deng righted the wrongs of 150 years of Chinese humiliation by uttering the four simple words luo ye gui gen (falling leaves return to their roots).

On that historic occasion, it was by means of an evocative proverb that Deng Xiaoping chose to express his sentiments, as well as those of over one billion Chinese.

There are numerous other recorded examples of Chinese leaders using proverbs to illustrate the lessons learned from history. In the 1930s, China was ruled by Chiang Kai-shek, leader of the Nationalist party. Instead of fighting the Japanese who had invaded China, Chiang was preoccupied with annihilating the fledgling Communist movement led by Mao Zedong. Under pressure from the USA to drive out the Japanese before tackling the Communists, Chiang refused, saying, ‘The Japanese are only xuan jie zhi ji “a disease of the skin”, but the Communists are xin fu zhi huan “a malady of the heart”.’

In America, Chiang was much admired for his poetic eloquence. What his western audience did not realise was that Chiang’s statements were not original. He was merely quoting an ancient proverb.

When the Vietnam War escalated and Ho Chi Minh asked for aid from Communist China, Mao Zedong agreed to assist and quoted the proverb chun wang chi han (when the lips are gone, the teeth are cold). The proverb stems from an incident during the early Warring States period (475–221 BC) when China was divided into many states. One state wished to invade another and asked for safe passage through a third one in order to do so. The prime minister of the last state advised his king not to grant the request, warning him that if the second state were conquered, their country would be the next target because chun wang chi han (when the lips are gone, the teeth are cold). The proverb signifies ‘interdependence’ between two parties and was first written down by Zhuangzi (born 330 BC).

While doing research for this book, I was amazed to come across the same proverb in a memorial written more than 2200 years ago by Li Si, a high-ranking official in the government of King Zheng of Qin. In the year 233 BC, Li Si was sent by his sovereign to the neighbouring state of Haan. At that time, the state of Zhao was planning to attack Qin and was asking for safe passage through Haan. Like Mao Zedong, Li Si quoted the proverb ‘when the lips are gone, the teeth are cold’ in an attempt to dissuade the King of Haan from granting the army of Zhao access through his land. He added in his memorial, ‘Qin and Haan suffer the same perils. The misfortune of one is the misfortune of the other. This is an obvious fact.’

Substitute the state of Zhao for the USA, Qin for Vietnam and Haan for Communist China, and we have Mao Zedong thinking the same thoughts and using the same language in 1963, as Li Si over twenty-two centuries earlier.

In September 2000, I read of the execution of two high-ranking Chinese officials for corruption: one was the vice-chairman of China’s National People’s Congress and the other was the deputy governor of a large province. The Chinese newspapers reported that before their crimes were discovered, both had already prepared escape routes in the tradition of the proverb jiao tu san ku. However, they were caught before they could put their flight plan into action.

That proverb jiao tu san ku means ‘a cunning rabbit has three warrens’. It originates from an ancient history book entitled Strategies between the Warring States, written over 2000 years ago. The proverb relates the story of a man named Meng who was prime minister to the King of Qi during the fourth century BC. Meng sent his adviser Feng to his fief to collect debts. Instead of doing so, Feng forgave all the loans, telling the villagers that he was doing this on the Prime Minister’s orders. Meng was displeased but the deed was done. A year later, Meng fell from favour and had to return to his native village. When he was still one hundred li (about thirty miles) away, the local people, young and old, all came out to welcome him. Meng was greatly moved and praised Feng for his far-sightedness but the latter said, ‘Jiao tu san ku. (A cunning rabbit has three warrens to hide and avoid capture.) You have only one. I am going to build you two more.’ Feng then obtained a fallback offer for Meng as Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Wei. Hearing of this, the King of Qi reinstated Meng as his Prime Minister. Feng told Meng, ‘Now that all three holes are in place, you may relax and live in peace.’

Commenting on the behaviour of the two corrupt officials, the Chinese newspapers reported that two common ‘rabbit warrens’ for corrupt politicians were to obtain foreign passports for themselves, and to move family members, loved ones and money overseas. The executed vice-chairman had secretly deposited US$5,000,000 in bribes in a Hong Kong Bank account for himself and his mistress, whereas the deputy governor was quoted as having advised his son to get a green card in the US so that ‘you’ll have permanent residence there and I’ll have somewhere to go when I emigrate myself’.

This true story illustrates the importance of proverbs in influencing behaviour and forming opinions in China today.

How do the Chinese think? Why do we think that way? Do people in the west think in a different way?

All of us think in words. Therefore every form of thought is related to the language, culture and history of the particular thinker, and the land of their birth. Westerners and Chinese have different views of the world that may sometimes contradict one another, yet both may be right. For example, to an Englishman, Israel is in the Middle East and China the Far East; whereas to a Chinese person, Israel is in the West and England the Far West. Depending on the viewpoint, the conclusions are different, but both parties are correct.

For westerners to understand Chinese reasoning, it is essential to realise that, more than any other nation, Chinese rationale stems from the roots of our lengthy and well-documented past. The Chinese view of the world is highly dependent on the lessons learned from our forefathers. Traditionally, this ‘wisdom of the ages’ is often encapsulated in the form of four characters and presented as a proverb.

Many Chinese proverbs originate from ancient historical literature, poetry, letters and other writings. Based on actual events, they carry philosophical or moral messages that make them relevant and meaningful in contemporary life. At best, they radiate a glow that mirrors the Chinese mind, recalling incidents from bygone eras that define the Chinese way of thinking. They keep alive the memory of fables and legends and, following centuries of repetition, have evolved into ‘coded messages’ that are integrated into daily speech. Used correctly, they illustrate aspects of human behaviour that capture the very essence of our existence and there is no doubt that ancient proverbs still shape the thoughts and behaviour of Chinese people today. Lessons learned from conflicts and battles that happened hundreds, if not thousands, of years ago continue to serve as a backdrop to many Chinese decisions.

Written Chinese is a pictorial language. Most of the words originate from pictures of actual objects, not mental concepts. Because of this, the Chinese are used to viewing life in terms of concrete examples, using specific incidents to illustrate abstract ideas. Citation of proverbs summarising past legends has a particularly emotive appeal for the Chinese and plays a large part in the expression of Chinese thought.

Ordinary conversation between Chinese people is studded with quotes from ancient historians, poets and philosophers. The use of proverbs is often viewed as a barometer of a Chinese person’s knowledge of history, level of education and depth of wisdom. Hidden within the psyche of many Chinese, there is a lurking conviction that scholarship is more admirable than money, and nothing impresses a Chinese person more than to hear someone quote an appropriate proverb in a timely fashion.

The Chinese language has no alphabet and there is no connection between speech and writing. A person may be capable of understanding written Chinese without knowing how to read aloud or speak a single word. Each word is a different symbol and must be memorised separately. As the language developed, metaphors (figures of speech) and proverbs (short sayings based on previous experience) became increasingly important in the expression of Chinese thought.

In English language, new metaphors are also being born daily before our very eyes, just as in China. Some examples are hot seat (for the electric chair), gun moll (for the gangster’s girlfriend), Pearl Harbor (for sneak attack), meeting one’s Waterloo (for defeat), jousting windmills (for fighting useless battles), pay dirt (for reward) and pan out (for successful result). The last two terms came from the California gold rush.

Walt Whitman once said that ‘Into the English language are woven the sorrows, joys, loves, needs and heartbreaks of the common people’. The same can be said regarding Chinese proverbs and metaphors.

Whereas Shakespeare has been hailed for the last four hundred years by most English-speaking people as the greatest English writer who ever lived, very few westerners have heard of Sima Qian (145–90 BC), a Chinese historian who lived during the Han dynasty. In his lifetime he wrote only one book, a book of history called Shiji (Historical Record). Published a few decades after his death, Shiji has been a best-seller in China since that time and is still in print. Many Chinese feel that it is the greatest book ever written. Its influence on Chinese thought has been immense throughout the last two millennia. Many of the proverbs we use today came from this ancient tome.

Westerners, too, have been captivated by the charm of Chinese proverbs. When I was a medical intern at the London Hospital in the 1960s, I had the privilege of looking after the renowned British poet Philip Larkin.^* He once described Chinese proverbs as ‘white dwarfs’ of literature because each was so densely compacted with thoughts and ideas. He told me that ‘white dwarfs’ were tiny stars whose atoms were packed so closely together that their weight was huge compared to their size. He said that the enormous heat radiated by these small stars was like the vast knowledge and profound wisdom contained in these compact sayings gleaned from China.

Recently, as I was reading an American book, Who Moved My Cheese by Spencer Johnson, my husband Bob pointed out that the message it contained is essentially the same as one stated over two thousand years ago by Li Si, the man who eventually became Prime Minister to the First Emperor of China.

As a young man, Li Si worked as a petty clerk in his district. In the lavatory attached to his office, he observed numerous scrawny rats lurking around and eating the excrement, but they would scurry off at the first approach of man or dog. Visiting the granary one day, he noticed that the rats there were not only sleek and fat, but were calmly helping themselves to the sacks of grain. They squatted comfortably beneath the galleries and hardly stirred when disturbed. Thereupon he sighed and thought to himself, ‘A man’s ability or lack of ability resembles the behaviour of these rats. Everything depends on where he locates himself.’

The point made by the American writer is the same as that mentioned by the Chinese clerk: a person must be willing to move to another location in response to change. Otherwise the cheese (or grain) will run out regardless of one’s ability.

Most Chinese are proud of their country’s long history. While doing research on the origin of proverbs, I came to realise that many of them came from the pen of one man: the brilliant Han dynasty historian Sima Qian, who wrote his seminal book Shiji (Historical Record) some two thousand years ago.

Here I have chosen a few commonly used proverbs gleaned from the writings of Sima Qian, combined them with my personal reflections, and related the history behind them to provide a window into the Chinese mind. I hope you will find them as fascinating as I did when I first heard them from my Ye Ye all those many years ago.

^* See Watching the Tree.