GEORGE T. YEH (叶公超)

There is no English equivalent to the Chinese term ming shih (名士) just as there is no Chinese equivalent to the English word "gentleman." "Aesthete" seems as near as one can possibly get in English to a correct translation of the term ming shih, in the light of that illuminating chapter on "The Aesthetic Type" in Osbert Burdett's book The Beardsley Period. But the word "aesthete" is apt to bring to mind the lilies and languors of an Ernest Dowson, anemic and emaciated; while a ming shih, on the other hand, may be even brawny, full-blooded, of the earth, earthy like(say) Dr. Johnson or Prof. George T. Yeh.

Prof. Yeh's appearance is impressive and almost majestic. He is a six-footer, of a heavy build, swarthy and handsome. He has broad shoulders, a carrying voice, a jaw just on this side of squareness, and walks with a perceptible swagger. In spite of his aestheticism, he looks an athlete all over. We are told that he played tennis wonderfully well during his salad days. But we might guess the fact even without being told of it; for anyone who has conversed with Prof. Yeh will know how skilfully he can "keep the ball rolling" in conversation.

Indeed, he is one of those remarkable talkers who have at command more than one conversational style. Epigram and small talk are equally his fortes. But he is at his best in the digressive style, whether it be the freely associational manner of Mrs. Nickleby or the rambling allusiveness of Charles Lamb of whom, by the way, Prof. Yeh has a towering admiration. Like Johnson, he does not suffer interruption gladly, particularly interruption from a youngster whose role is to cock his ears and listen. I still remember my first talk with him in his charming study five years ago. I was a self-conscious jackanapes then; flushed with a grandiose sense of my own importance and primed with borrowed wit and wisdom, I tried desperately to get in a word edgewise to make a display. After having made several futile attempts to put a spoke on Prof. Yeh's conversational wheel, I had at last the good sense to give up the attempt as impossible and sink back in Prof. Yeh's comfortable sofas (the most comfortable sofas in Tsing Hua), and sip Prof. Yeh's famous Pu-er (普洱) tea and allow Prof. Yeh to spin on without let or hindrance his reams and reams of interesting talk. Literature forms the staple of his talk of course; but one can never draw a line at anything in his "dualogue" which ranges over the whole encyclopaedia—everything under the sun and something above it.

Prof. Yeh suffers as a lecturer from the defects of his qualities as a talker. His lectures are without programme or outline, trusting all to improvisation and mother-wit. His lectures upset all our preconceived notions of what lectures should be. They are full of surprises and shock tactics; and this unexpectedness constitutes not the least of their charms. They abound in brilliant apercus and profound asides but lack in system and organisation. Although they are so invigorating that one should ask for nothing better, yet dull students whose besetting virtue is note-taking and who come to class with the sincere hope to have their empty heads crammed with well-ordered facts, are apt to find them baffling. But then, so much the worse for dull students! What cares Prof. Yeh for them? He is all for educating a few individuals at the expense of the whole class.

Prof. Yeh is a literary free lance. He is too broad-minded to belong to any one clique or make common cause with any one faction. Like Mr. Yuan-ning Wen, he keeps himself abreast of every latest tendency in art and literature. Both are dilettantes or amateurs in the best sense of the words. I have often compared them to two reeds through which every prevailing wind of doctrine blows into exquisite music. In this respect, they are diametrically opposite to that single-hearted humanist Prof. Wu Mi who, a doctrinaire among his dilettantish colleagues, seems to invert the moral of Aesop's famous fable and suffer from the self-consciousness of a fox with a tail. All the same, these three professors are the three musketeers in the Department of Foreign Languages and Literature of Tsing Hua: Yeh suggests Porthos even in physical appearance; Wu, at once moralistic and romantic, certainly reminds us of Aramis; and Wen with his urbanity and resourcefulness resembles not a little Athos. Et D'artagnan?

Prof. Yeh is a first-rate essayist and critic. He had encouraged essay-writing long before it came into vogue and has perhaps the largest collection of English essays in China. His recent critical papers are especially interesting; e.g. the distinction he draws between impressions as the data of criticism and impressionism as the methodology of criticism, is probably of permanent validity. In spite of his overbearing presence and his uproarious laughter which possesses all the sinister qualities of the Whistlerian "Ha! Ha!" he is at bottom very shy, very sensitive and fastidious, not unlike the man he loves so much—Charles Lamb.

[No. 20; May 17, 1934]

叶公超¹

英文里没有一个词能和中文的“名士”完全对应，就像中文里没有一个词能和英文的gentleman对应一样。在英文里能够找来最接近“名士”翻译的，似乎只有aesthete一词，根据是奥斯伯特·伯德特²所著《比尔兹利³时期》一书 “审美型”一章所描绘的那种人。但是这个词容易使人想起厄内斯特·道森的百合和倦怠，憔悴、无精打采；名士则不然，可以十分健壮，精神旺盛，富于人间烟火味，就像（比如说）约翰逊博士或是叶公超教授那样凡俗。

叶教授一表人才，甚至可以说仪态威严。他身高六英尺，体态结实，皮肤黝黑，相貌英俊。他肩膀宽阔，嗓音洪亮，下颌略显方正，走路时昂首阔步。尽管具有名士气质，他整体看来却像是运动场上的一条好汉。据说，少不更事时，他可是个网球高手。其实，没有人说我们也能猜得到，因为任何一个和叶教授交谈过的人都会知道，他能多么巧妙地使谈话像滚球一般继续下去而不中断。

事实上，他非常健谈，谈话方式也不止一端。妙语连珠和寒暄闲谈，他都擅长。他表现得最为出色的，是谈话时偏离主题：不论是尼克贝太太⁴的自由联想，还是查尔斯·兰姆的东拉西扯、引经据典。附带说一句，叶教授对兰姆崇拜得无以复加。像约翰逊一样，他也不喜欢被别人打断话头，尤其不喜欢被只有资格竖起耳朵恭听的年轻人打断。我还记得五年前在他那令人愉快的书房里，第一次和他谈话时的情景。那时，我还是个有点儿腼腆又有点儿顽皮的年轻人，自以为了不起而激动得面色绯红，满肚子借来的诙谐和智慧。我费尽心机，力争插嘴以一展才华。我好几次试图在叶教授的讲话车轮中插入一根辐条，却徒劳无功，最终知趣地放弃了这种无望的尝试，把身体深埋进叶教授家舒适的沙发（清华最舒适的沙发），呷着叶教授家著名的普洱茶，听任叶教授把他有趣的长篇大论无所障碍地一直讲下去。文学当然是他谈话的主轴，但是谁也无法为他“对话”中提到的事物划出界线，他的谈话涉及百科全书的所有范围——太阳底下的一切，外加太阳之上的一些话题。

叶教授作为讲师的品质受到了健谈者品质缺陷的影响。他讲课没有教案或大纲，全凭即兴发挥和天资。他的讲课完全推翻了我们对于何谓讲课的固有观念。他的讲课充满了意外和突如其来的策略，而这种出人意料的特点却丝毫不能构成他课堂的魅力。他的课上充满了睿智的洞见和深刻的题外话，但是缺乏系统和条理。尽管他的课听着起劲，学生应该别无他求，但是资质较差的学生常有的优良品质就是在课堂上记笔记，他们来上课是真诚地希望给空白的头脑装填进有条不紊的知识。他们听到这样的课就会感到困惑。然而，更糟的是，叶教授根本不在意这样的学生，他为了教好少数学生而不惜牺牲其他学生。

叶教授是一个文学上自行其是的人，他思想过于开阔而不可能从属于任何小团体，也不可能和任何派别合作。像温源宁先生一样，他也紧跟艺术和文学的最新发展情况。他们两人全都是最佳意义上的票友或业余文艺爱好者。我常把他们比作两根芦苇，每一阵流行的理论劲风都能从中吹奏出优美的音乐。在这方面，他们都和一心一意的人文主义者吴宓教授正好相反。在业余爱好文艺的同事们中间，比较教条的吴教授似乎把伊索著名寓言的寓意颠倒过来了，他知道自己是有尾巴的狐狸⁵而感觉别扭。尽管如此，这三位教授仍然是清华外国语言文学系里的三剑客⁶：叶，甚至连长相都会使人想起波尔朵斯；吴，既道学又很浪漫，确实使我们联想到阿拉密斯；而温，由于他的温文尔雅、足智多谋，就非常像阿多斯了。那，达达尼昂呢？

叶教授是第一流的随笔作家和评论家。随笔流行之前很久，他就在提倡这种写作了。他的英文随笔藏书数量在中国也许是最多的。他最近的评论文章尤为引人关注，例如，他在作为评论素材的印象和作为评论方法的印象主义之间作出的区分，就很可能永远正确。尽管他有些盛气凌人，那震耳欲聋的笑声具有惠斯勒⁷式的“哈！哈！”的阴险品质，他实际上是个相当腼腆、敏感的人，又极挑剔，不能不说正像他热爱至深的那个人——查尔斯·兰姆。

［第20期，1934年5月17日］