從臺(tái)灣回北京快半個(gè)月了，心里老放不下一樁事：臺(tái)北士林區(qū)外雙溪臨溪路72號(hào)錢(qián)穆（字賓四）故居素書(shū)樓的楓樹(shù)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(tái)灣，第一次拜登素書(shū)樓，那是去臺(tái)灣參加中華炎黃文化研究會(huì)和輔仁大學(xué)、東吳大學(xué)等合作主辦的一個(gè)學(xué)術(shù)研討會(huì)，主人得知我是第一次到臺(tái)灣，就熱心地與紀(jì)念館聯(lián)系，作出安排，由紀(jì)念館的負(fù)責(zé)人開(kāi)車(chē)來(lái)接我和同時(shí)參加會(huì)議的三叔去拜謁祖父錢(qián)穆的故居。

素書(shū)樓位于陽(yáng)明山下緊鄰東吳大學(xué)，那是祖父生前最后二十多年生活、講學(xué)的居所。通過(guò)祖父的書(shū)籍、祖母的講述，通過(guò)父輩們幾次親臨帶回來(lái)的照片，我對(duì)于這個(gè)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(lán)圖而建，樓名也因祖父懷念曾祖母之無(wú)錫故居素書(shū)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(yíng)建種植、悉心澆灌培育的，經(jīng)年累月，素書(shū)樓漸漸成為一個(gè)松竹挺立、楓梅橫斜、綠草茵茵、杜鵑競(jìng)艷的小型園林。

去年11月12日的臺(tái)北正趕上降溫，風(fēng)很大，天色也陰沉著。車(chē)在故居大門(mén)前停下，就看到那掛著祖父手跡“素書(shū)樓”三字的熟悉的大紅門(mén)呈現(xiàn)眼前。此時(shí)此刻我就仿佛看到祖父右手拄杖、左手執(zhí)煙斗站在門(mén)前氣定神閑微笑著的樣子。祖父曾有詩(shī)句寫(xiě)素書(shū)樓：“一園花樹(shù)，滿屋山川，無(wú)得無(wú)失，只此自然。”他曾在這里給學(xué)生講課，接待來(lái)訪賓客，我仿佛又聽(tīng)到他那帶著濃重鄉(xiāng)音的娓娓而談。在這里，一群民族文化的有志之士們?cè)?jīng)懷著“志于道，據(jù)于德，依于仁，游于藝”的古訓(xùn)，博文約禮，出入經(jīng)史，關(guān)懷于天人之際，叩問(wèn)于古今之變。于是乎，屋室雖小，卻滿眼山川，琴瑟悠揚(yáng)，往昔與當(dāng)下，自然與人文便融為一體。一園花樹(shù)中，要算松、竹最與主人貼近，那些弟子們?yōu)樽娓冈趫@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(shū)樓風(fēng)骨交相融合的永恒形象。

進(jìn)入大紅門(mén)，左側(cè)是一條斜坡小道，拾石級(jí)而上，兩旁楓樹(shù)夾道。祖母愛(ài)楓，她曾經(jīng)寫(xiě)道：

“大家都說(shuō)臺(tái)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(shù)上的葉子尚未落盡，尤其是走完了臺(tái)階到平地的路旁那一棵，樹(shù)葉特別豐盛，一時(shí)都變紅了，顏色鮮艷，令人陶醉。而這棵樹(shù)的枝干本就姿態(tài)最美，真可入畫(huà)。我初見(jiàn)真覺(jué)滿心歡喜，離開(kāi)了大陸二十多年，這是我第二次再見(jiàn)紅葉，更何況它長(zhǎng)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(guò)，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(duì)坐廊下遙賞那一樹(shù)楓葉。我們回憶大陸的秋景，回憶多年前在美國(guó)耶魯大學(xué)附近小山去賞楓葉的往事，一個(gè)下午就在回憶中不知不覺(jué)的溜過(guò)了?！?/p>

原來(lái)，松竹可以常青，而楓葉盡染霜重紅透，卻并非南國(guó)寶島所能常見(jiàn)，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(dòng)了家國(guó)羈旅的情懷，同時(shí)也慰藉了千里之外游子心的寫(xiě)照。

不過(guò)如今走在斜坡小道上，卻見(jiàn)兩旁楓樹(shù)的枝葉顯得稀稀疏疏，靠近門(mén)口的幾株更是樹(shù)枯葉黃。陪同我們參觀的故居管理處主任劉女士告訴說(shuō)：這幾年楓樹(shù)得病了，有幾棵有枯死的危險(xiǎn)，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(shù)，亦已成了灰褐色，劉女士說(shuō)，這是招了蟲(chóng)害。幸而斜坡盡頭高高的一叢竹子，看起來(lái)還很健康，下方添了一牌子，標(biāo)明“黃金竹”，是那我在四川成都見(jiàn)過(guò)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(kāi)線故名。環(huán)顧庭院，看到松、楓憔悴，但松下、竹下主人坐過(guò)的石凳還在，這讓人怦然遙想起當(dāng)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(shū)房里，書(shū)桌上空空如也，桌后頂天立地的書(shū)架中，只有小部分架子中疏朗地放著一些新書(shū)，這像一個(gè)正在搬家的居室；二樓臥室旁邊一小間，則是完全空著，后來(lái)聽(tīng)祖母說(shuō)那原來(lái)是一個(gè)書(shū)庫(kù)。

故居路前僅幾十米處，眼下正在興建一個(gè)高樓，據(jù)說(shuō)這是東吳大學(xué)的藝術(shù)館。素書(shū)樓二樓的樓廊為觀景賞月而設(shè)計(jì)，是主人當(dāng)年眺望園景、休息閑話的地方。以前讀祖母的《樓廊閑話》一書(shū)，心里就無(wú)數(shù)遍地構(gòu)想過(guò)這樣的情景：多少個(gè)暖陽(yáng)里的冬晨，明月中的夏夜，還有細(xì)雨霏霏的春日和那鳴蟲(chóng)啾啾的秋暮，素書(shū)樓主人雙雙倚靠在樓廊的藤椅上，騁懷游目，風(fēng)光、景物、歷史、人文便都在喁喁低語(yǔ)中成為一篇篇談古說(shuō)今、即物抒懷的“樓廊閑話”。我到來(lái)這里，不免也在廊上小坐，緬懷當(dāng)年情景，不過(guò)眼前卻是一片高高的腳手架和隆隆的機(jī)器聲，想到將來(lái)大學(xué)藝術(shù)館的高樓建成，這感受不知又是什么滋味？

離開(kāi)素書(shū)樓后，我們?nèi)プ娓干白詈蟮木铀彩亲婺脯F(xiàn)在的住地看望祖母。三個(gè)月前，祖母在她主持的一年一度的中華文化研習(xí)班期間在香港不慎跌倒，行動(dòng)至今有些不便，而我算起來(lái)至少也有三年沒(méi)看到她了。坐定聊起來(lái)，這一回感覺(jué)做起事來(lái)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(shū)樓來(lái)，她自然要問(wèn)起那里的一切，沒(méi)待我們回答，她隨即自語(yǔ)道：“那斜坡兩旁原有上千株的杜鵑，盛開(kāi)時(shí)那么漂亮，現(xiàn)在沒(méi)有了吧?……我已經(jīng)幾年沒(méi)有回去了，不能回去，……”

我感到她省略了下面三個(gè)字：“太傷感”。我也就沒(méi)忍心再告訴她楓樹(shù)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(wú)變化?

我想對(duì)祖母說(shuō)：素書(shū)樓成為紀(jì)念館，有專(zhuān)門(mén)機(jī)構(gòu)和人員管理已然是幸事。留得青山在，那些花草縱使一時(shí)枯萎，今后應(yīng)該還會(huì)有人來(lái)像你們當(dāng)年那樣悉心栽培、經(jīng)營(yíng)庭院的，但我沒(méi)有說(shuō)出口。

第二天，輔仁大學(xué)組織與會(huì)代表參觀臺(tái)北故宮博物院，一行人在旅游車(chē)上聽(tīng)導(dǎo)游熱心地講解，這導(dǎo)游不年輕了，自己介紹說(shuō)畢業(yè)于文化大學(xué)。旅游車(chē)帶著我又一次接近素書(shū)樓，車(chē)往故宮博物院開(kāi)去，導(dǎo)游一路介紹說(shuō)：這里是蔣介石先生故居，現(xiàn)在開(kāi)放為“七林官邸”；這里是東吳大學(xué)；這里是張大千故居等等，但是他沒(méi)有說(shuō)到同時(shí)開(kāi)過(guò)的錢(qián)賓四故居素書(shū)樓。

鏈接：錢(qián)穆（1895-1990），字賓四，現(xiàn)代著名國(guó)學(xué)家、教育家，江蘇無(wú)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(dòng)學(xué)界，受聘到燕京大學(xué)、北京大學(xué)、清華大學(xué)、西南聯(lián)合大學(xué)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(xué)之誼。先后出版《國(guó)史大綱》《中國(guó)文化史導(dǎo)論》《史記地名考》等名著，1949年離開(kāi)大陸往香港，創(chuàng)辦新亞書(shū)院，1967年起移居臺(tái)灣， 1990年病逝于臺(tái)北杭州南路新遷寓所。身后有《錢(qián)賓四先生全集》54冊(cè)1700萬(wàn)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)