Burton Watson 翻译的《史记 · 伯夷列传》/ Records of the Grand Historian
这是 Burton Watson 翻译的《史记》里面的第一篇列传：〈伯夷列传〉。抄写了一遍，不仅细细品味了翻译的严谨，而且更借此对照并细读了司马迁的原文。
Shih chi 61: The Biography of Po Yi and Shu Ch’i
Although in the world of learning there exist a large number and variety of books and records, their reliability must always be examined in the light of the Six Classics. In spite of deficiencies in the Odes and Documents, we can nevertheless know something about the culture of the times of Emperor Shun and the Hsia dynasty. When, for instance, Emperor Yao wished to retire from his position, he yielded the throne to Shun, and Shun in turn yielded it to Yü. But in each case the high court officials first unanimously recommended these men for the position and they were given the throne for a period of trial. Only after they had discharged the duties of the imperial office for twenty or thirty years, and their merit and ability had become manifest, was the rule finally ceded to them. This proves that the empire is a precious vessel, its ruler part of a great line of succession, and that its transmission is a matter of extreme gravity. Yet there are theorists who say that
The Grand Historian remarks: When I ascended
Confucius said, “Po Yi and Shu Ch’I never bore old ills in mind and hence seldom had any feelings of rancor.” “They sought to act virtuously and they did so; what was there for them to feel rancor about?”
I am greatly moved by the determination of Po Yi. But when I examine the song that has been attributed to him, I find it very strange.
The story of these men states that Po Yi and Shu Ch’i were elder and younger sons of the ruler of Ku-chu. Their father wished to set up Shu Ch’i as his heir but, when he died, Shu Ch’i yielded in favor of his elder borther Po Yi. Po Yi replied that it had been their father’s wish that Shu Ch’i should inherit the throne and so he departed from the state. Shu Ch’i like wise, being unwilling to accept the rule, went away and the people of the state set up a middle brother as ruler. At this time Po Yi and Shu Ch’i heard that Ch’ang, the Chief of the West, was good at looking after old people, and they said, “Why not go and follow him?” But when they had gone they found that the Chief of the West was dead and his son, King Wu, had taken up the ancestral tablet of his father, whom he honored with the posthumous title of King Wen, and was marching east to attack the emperor of the Yin dynasty. Po Yi and Shu Ch’i clutched the reins of King Wu’s horse and reprimanded him, saying, “The mourning for your father not yet completed and here you take up shield and spear—can this conduct be called filial? As a subject you seek to assassinate your sovereign—can this conduct be called humane?” The king’s attendants wished to strike them down, but the king’s counselor, T’ai-kung, interposed, saying, “These are righteous men,” and he sent them away unharmed.
After this, King Wu conquered and pacified the people of the Yin and the world honored the house of Chou as its ruler. But Po Yi and Shu Ch’i were filled with outrage and considered it unrighteous to eat the grain of Chou. They fled and hid on
We climb this western hill
and pick its ferns;
replacing violence with violence,
he will not see his own fault.
Shen Nung, Yü, and Hsia,
great men gone so long ago—
whom shall we turn to now?
Ah—let us be off,
for our fate has run out!
They died of starvation on
Some people say, “It is Heaven’s way to have no favorites but always to be on the side of the good man.” Can we say then that Po Yi and Shu Ch’i were good men or not? They piled up a record for goodness and were pure in deed, as we have seen, and yet they starved to death.
Of his seventy disciples, Confucius singled out Yen Hui for praise because of his diligence in learning, yet Yen Hui was often in want, never getting his fill of even the poorest food, and in the end he suffered an untimely death. Is this the way heaven rewards the good man?
Robber Chih day after day killed innocent men, making mincemeat of their flesh. Cruel and willful, he gathered a band of several thousand followers who went about terrorizing the world, but in the end he lived to a ripe old age. For what virtue did he deserve this?
These are only the most obvious and striking examples. Even in more recent times we see that men whose conduct departs from what is prescribed and who do nothing but violate the taboos and prohibitions enjoy luxury and wealth to the end of their lives, and hand them on to their heirs for generations without end. And there are others who carefully choose the spot where they will place each footstep, who “speak out only when it is time to speak,” who “walk no bypaths” and expend no anger on what is not upright and just, and yet, in numbers too great to be reckoned, they meet with misfortune and disaster. I find myself in much perplexity. Is this so-called Way of Heaven right or wrong?
Confucius said, “Those whose ways are different cannot lay plans for one another.” Each will follow his own will. Therefore he said, “If the search for riches and honor were sure to be successful, though I should become a groom with whip in hand to get them, I would do so. But as the search might not be successful, I will follow after that which I love.” “When the year becomes cold, then we know that the pine and cypress are the last to lose their leaves.” When the whole world is in muddy confusion, then is the man of true purity seen. Then must one judge what he will consider important and what important and what unimportant.
“The superior man hates the thought of his name not being mentioned after his death.” As Chia Yi has said:
The covetous run after riches,
the impassioned pursue a fair name;
the proud die struggling for power,
and the people long only to live.
Things of the same light illumine each other; things of the same class seek each other out. Clouds pursue the dragon; the wind follows the tiger. The sage arises and all creation becomes clear.
Po Yi and Shu Ch’i, although they were men of great virtue, became, through Confucius, even more illustrious in fame. Though Yen Hui was diligent in learning, like a fly riding the tail of a swift horse, his attachments to Confucius made his deeds renowned. The hermit-scholars hiding away in their caves may be ever so correct in their givings and takings, and yet the names of them and their kind are lost and forgotten without receiving a word of praise. Is this not pitiful? Men of humble origin living in the narrow lanes strive to make perfect their actions and to establish a name for themselves, but if they do not some how attach themselves to a great man, a “man of the blue clouds,” how can they hope that their fame will be handed down to posterity?
