評論
打印
I'm in the Asia Gallery at the back of the British Museum. Behind me stand two statues of the judges of the Chinese underworld, recording the good and the bad deeds of those who had died.
大英博物館北區的亞洲廳擺放宥兩尊中國陰間的判官雕像，他們是負責記錄人生前的蔣舉與惡行的，
And these judges were exactly the people that the Tang elite wanted to impress.
因此是廟朝的權資想要討好的對象。
In front of me, I'm looking at a gloriously lively troupe of ceramic figures.
在他們前而擺放若一組十二只栩栩如牛的陶俑，
They're all between two and three feet (60 to 90 cm) high, and there are 12 of them-human, animal and somewhere in between.
高度在六十廂米至一百一十五厘米之間，形象包括人、舀以及人面獸身。
They're from the tomb of one of the great figures of Tang China, Liu Tingxun, general of the Zhongwu army, lieutenant of Henan and Huinan district and Imperial privy councillor, who died at the advanced age of 72 in 728.
它們都來自廟朝名將劉廷荀之墓。他曾任忠武將軍、河南道與淮南道校尉以及中央樞密使， 在公元七二八年以七十二歲高齡去世。
Liu Tingxun tells us this, and a great deal more besides, in a glowing obituary that he had commissioned himself and which was buried along with his ceramic entourage.
這些倌息來自他命人撰寫的墓志銘。這份銘文通篇溢美之詞，與他的陶瓷隨從們一同被下葬。
Together, figures and text give us a marvellous glimpse of China 1,300 years ago, but above all, they're a shamelessly barefaced bid for everlasting admiration and applause.
墓中的文字與物品讓我們得以一窺一千三百年前的中國。但它們首先都是些寡廉鮮恥的自我吹捧，目的則是為了能名垂千古。
Wanting to control your own reputation after death isn't unknown today, as Anthony Howard, for years obituaries editor at The Times, recalls.
想要控制自己死后名聲的人在如今也屢見不鮮。曾任《泰晤士報》訃聞版編輯的安東尼笛華德回憶。
