Canonical Classics ← 第二十三回
第二十三回
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Tripitaka Does Not Forget His Origin · The Four Saints Test the Meditative Heart

議親許女
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原文 Original text 繁體 Traditional Reader's edition

議親許女 The Three Daughters

réndào:「shìdīnghàiniánsānyuèchūsānyǒushíshēngniánsānsuìjīnniánshísuìérmíngzhēnzhēnjīnniánèrshísuìmíngàiàijīnniánshísuìsānxiǎomíngliánliánjīnniánshíliùsuìcéngpèirénjiāsuīshìxiǎorénchǒulòuquèxìngxiǎoyǒufēnyángōngzhēnzhǐsuǒhuìyīnshìxiānmendàngérzikànyǎngxiǎoshícéngjiàoxiēshūdōuxiǎodexiēyínshīzuòduìsuīránzhùshānzhuāngshìshífēnzhīlèiliàoxiǎngpèideguòlièwèizhǎnglǎoruòkěnfàngkāihuáibàozhǎngliútóushěxiàzuòjiāzhǎng穿chuānlíngzhuójǐnshèngqiángmángxiéyún。」sānzàngzuòzàishàngmiànhǎo便biànléijīngdeháizilíndexiāzhǐshìdāidāizhēngzhēngfānbáiyǎnéryǎngréndào:「shìdīnghàiniánsānyuèchūsānyǒushíshēngniánsānsuìjīnniánshísuìérmíngzhēnzhēnjīnniánèrshísuìmíngàiàijīnniánshísuìsānxiǎomíngliánliánjīnniánshíliùsuìcéngpèirénjiāsuīshìxiǎorénchǒulòuquèxìngxiǎoyǒufēnyángōngzhēnzhǐsuǒhuìyīnshìxiānmendàngérzikànyǎngxiǎoshícéngjiàoxiēshūdōuxiǎodexiēyínshīzuòduìsuīránzhùshānzhuāngshìshífēnzhīlèiliàoxiǎngpèideguòlièwèizhǎnglǎoruòkěnfàngkāi怀huáibàozhǎngliútóushěxiàzuòjiāzhǎng穿chuānlíngzhuójǐnshèngqiángmángxiéyún。」sānzàngzuòzàishàngmiànhǎo便biànléijīngdeháizilíndexiāzhǐshìdāidāizhēngzhēngfānbáiyǎnéryǎng


逐句解 Line by line

réndào:「shìdīnghàiniánsānyuèchūsānyǒushíshēngniánsānsuìjīnniánshísuì réndào:「shìdīnghàiniánsānyuèchūsānyǒushíshēngniánsānsuìjīnniánshísuì

The woman said, “I was born in the dīng-hài year, on the third day of the third month, in the hour of yǒu; my late husband was three years my senior, and I am this year forty-five.”

丁亥年 a sexagenary-cycle year; 酉時 the hour of the Cock (roughly 5–7 p.m.). 故夫 “my late husband.” The precise horoscope-data is the matchmaker's stock-in-trade, offered here of the bride herself.

érmíngzhēnzhēnjīnniánèrshísuìmíngàiàijīnniánshísuìsānxiǎomíngliánliánjīnniánshíliùsuìcéngpèirénjiā érmíngzhēnzhēnjīnniánèrshísuìmíngàiàijīnniánshísuìsānxiǎomíngliánliánjīnniánshíliùsuìcéngpèirénjiā

“My eldest girl is named Zhenzhen, this year twenty; the second is named Aiai, this year eighteen; the third little one is named Lianlian, this year sixteen — and none is yet betrothed to any family.”

The daughters' names — 真真 (“True-true”), 愛愛 (“Love-love”), 憐憐 (“Pity-pity”) — are patly allegorical, of a piece with the false 賈/莫 surnames. 俱不曾許配 “none has yet been promised in marriage.”

suīshìxiǎorénchǒulòuquèxìngxiǎoyǒufēnyángōngzhēnzhǐsuǒhuì suīshìxiǎorénchǒulòuquèxìngxiǎoyǒufēnyángōngzhēnzhǐsuǒhuì

“Homely though I am, my girls are lucky enough to have some measure of good looks, and in women's work — needle and thread — there is nothing they cannot do.”

醜陋 “plain, ill-favored,” the widow's conventional self-deprecation. 幾分顏色 “a few degrees of beauty”; 女工針指 “women's handiwork, needlework”; 無所不會 “skilled in everything.”

yīnshìxiānmendàngérzikànyǎngxiǎoshícéngjiàoxiēshūdōuxiǎodexiēyínshīzuòduì yīnshìxiānmendàngérzikànyǎngxiǎoshícéngjiàoxiēshūdōuxiǎodexiēyínshīzuòduì

“Because my late husband had no son, I raised them as though they were sons; in their childhood I even had them read some Confucian books, and they all know a little of chanting verse and matching couplets.”

無子 here is the noun (“son”); the following 兒子 takes the suffix zi — one segment, two readings. 當兒子看養 “to regard (them) as sons and rear them,” 當 the verb dàng (當作, “to treat as”). dōu; 曉得 with structural de. 吟詩作對 “to chant poems and compose couplets,” a genteel accomplishment.

suīránzhùshānzhuāngshìshífēnzhīlèiliàoxiǎngpèideguòlièwèizhǎnglǎo suīránzhùshānzhuāngshìshífēnzhīlèiliàoxiǎngpèideguòlièwèizhǎnglǎo

“Though we dwell in a mountain manor, we are not of the utterly coarse and vulgar sort; I should think we might well be a match for you gentlemen elders.”

那十分粗俗 ; 十分 “utterly.” 配得過 “worthy to be matched with,” structural de; 列位長老, zhǎng (“the several elders”).

ruòkěnfàngkāihuáibàozhǎngliútóushěxiàzuòjiāzhǎng穿chuānlíngzhuójǐnshèngqiángmángxiéyún。」 ruòkěnfàngkāi怀huáibàozhǎngliútóushěxiàzuòjiāzhǎng穿chuānlíngzhuójǐnshèngqiángmángxiéyún。」

“If you would but open your hearts, grow out your hair and keep a full head of it, and become masters of my house — wearing damask and silk brocade — it would be far better than begging-bowl and black robe, straw sandals and rain-hat.”

長髮留頭 “grow the hair long and keep it on the head” — abandoning the monk's tonsure; here reads zhǎng (“to grow”). 家長 “head of household,” 長 zhǎng. 著錦 “to wear brocade,” the lexical zhuó (“to wear”). 瓦缽緇衣,芒鞋雲笠 “clay bowl and dark robe, straw shoes and cloud-hat” — the monk's austere gear, set against the estate's silks.

sānzàngzuòzàishàngmiànhǎo便biànléijīngdeháizilíndexiāzhǐshìdāidāizhēngzhēngfānbáiyǎnéryǎng sānzàngzuòzàishàngmiànhǎo便biànléijīngdeháizilíndexiāzhǐshìdāidāizhēngzhēngfānbáiyǎnéryǎng

Tripitaka sat above them, for all the world like a child startled by thunder, like a toad in a downpour: only stiff and staring, rolling up the whites of his eyes and tipping backward.

三藏 zàng. 雷驚的孩子,雨淋的蝦蟆 “a thunder-frightened child, a rain-drenched toad,” a paired comic simile (孩子, 子 the suffix zi) for Tripitaka's stupefaction. 呆呆掙掙 “dazed and rigid”; 翻白眼 “to roll up the eye-whites.”


總評 Commentary

The proposal now turns concrete. The widow lays out her horoscope like a matchmaker's card and parades the three daughters — their names, ages, looks, accomplishments — as a father might advertise sons: reared like sons for want of one, literate, versed in verse and needlework, and pointedly unbetrothed. The allegorical names — True, Love, Pity — mark them, with the 賈/莫 surnames, as the figments of a test rather than women of flesh.

The inducement is sharpened into a direct antithesis: grow out the tonsured hair, put on damask and brocade, become master of a great house — or keep to begging-bowl and black robe, straw sandal and rain-hat. The whole apparatus of the religious life is weighed, item for item, against the comforts of the world, and the widow presses her thumb hard on the scale.

Tripitaka's response is his most helpless yet, and the narrator renders it in pure farce — a child struck dumb by thunder, a toad in the rain, eyes rolled white and body tipping over backward. The comedy is exact: the saint's virtue here is not eloquent rebuttal but sheer, rigid incapacity to engage, a holiness that looks, from the outside, very like a fit.