文章 - 人文 - - 文章列表 - 普通

BARTLEBY, THE SCRIVENER.A STORY OF WALL-STREET.I am a rather elderly man. The nature of my avocations for the last thirty years has brought me into more than ordinary contact with what would seem an interesting and somewhat singular set of men, of whom as yet nothing that I know of has ever been written:—I mean the law-copyists or scriveners. I have known very many of them, professionally and privately, and if I pleased, could relate divers histories, at which good-natured gentlemen might smile, and sentimental souls might weep. But I waive the biographies of all other scriveners for a few passages in the life of Bartleby, who was a scrivener of the strangest I ever saw or heard of. While of other law-copyists I might write the complete life, of Bartleby nothing of that sort can be done. I believe that no materials exist for a full and satisfactory biography of this man. It is an irreparable loss to literature. Bartleby was one of those beings of whom nothing is ascertainable, except from the original sources, and in his case those are very small. What my own astonished eyes saw of Bartleby, that is all I know of him, except, indeed, one vague report which will appear in the sequel.Ere introducing the scrivener, as he first appeared to me, it is fit I make some mention of myself, my employees, my business, my chambers, and general surroundings; because some such description is indispensable to an adequate understanding of the chief character about to be presented.Imprimis: I am a man who, from his youth upwards, has been filled with a profound conviction that the easiest way of life is the best. Hence, though I belong to a profession proverbially energetic and nervous, even to turbulence, at times, yet nothing of that sort have I ever suffered to invade my peace. I am one of those unambitious lawyers who never addresses a jury, or in any way draws down public applause; but in the cool tranquility of a snug retreat, do a snug business among rich men's bonds and mortgages and title-deeds. All who know me, consider me an eminently safe man. The late John Jacob Astor, a personage little given to poetic enthusiasm, had no hesitation in pronouncing my first grand point to be prudence; my next, method. I do not speak it in vanity, but simply record the fact, that I was not unemployed in my profession by the late John Jacob Astor; a name which, I admit, I love to repeat, for it hath a rounded and orbicular sound to it, and rings like unto bullion. I will freely add, that I was not insensible to the late John Jacob Astor's good opinion.Some time prior to the period at which this little history begins, my avocations had been largely increased. The good old office, now extinct in the State of New York, of a Master in Chancery, had been conferred upon me. It was not a very arduous office, but very pleasantly remunerative. I seldom lose my temper; much more seldom indulge in dangerous indignation at wrongs and outrages; but I must be permitted to be rash here and declare, that I consider the sudden and violent abrogation of the office of Master in Chancery, by the new Constitution, as a—premature act; inasmuch as I had counted upon a life-lease of the profits, whereas I only received those of a few short years. But this is by the way.My chambers were up stairs at No.—Wall-street. At one end they looked upon the white wall of the interior of a spacious sky-light shaft, penetrating the building from top to bottom. This view might have been considered rather tame than otherwise, deficient in what landscape painters call "life." But if so, the view from the other end of my chambers offered, at least, a contrast, if nothing more. In that direction my windows commanded an unobstructed view of a lofty brick wall, black by age and everlasting shade; which wall required no spy-glass to bring out its lurking beauties, but for the benefit of all near-sighted spectators, was pushed up to within ten feet of my window panes. Owing to the great height of the surrounding buildings, and my chambers being on the second floor, the interval between this wall and mine not a little resembled a huge square cistern.At the period just preceding the advent of Bartleby, I had two persons as copyists in my employment, and a promising lad as an office-boy. First, Turkey; second, Nippers; third, Ginger Nut. These may seem names, the like of which are not usually found in the Directory. In truth they were nicknames, mutually conferred upon each other by my three clerks, and were deemed expressive of their respective persons or characters. Turkey was a short, pursy Englishman of about my own age, that is, somewhere not far from sixty. In the morning, one might say, his face was of a fine florid hue, but after twelve o'clock, meridian—his dinner hour—it blazed like a grate full of Christmas coals; and continued blazing—but, as it were, with a gradual wane—till 6 o'clock, P.M. or thereabouts, after which I saw no more of the proprietor of the face, which gaining its meridian with the sun, seemed to set with it, to rise, culminate, and decline the following day, with the like regularity and undiminished glory. There are many singular coincidences I have known in the course of my life, not the least among which was the fact, that exactly when Turkey displayed his fullest beams from his red and radiant countenance, just then, too, at that critical moment, began the daily period when I considered his business capacities as seriously disturbed for the remainder of the twenty-four hours. Not that he was absolutely idle, or averse to business then; far from it. The difficulty was, he was apt to be altogether too energetic. There was a strange, inflamed, flurried, flighty recklessness of activity about him. He would be incautious in dipping his pen into his inkstand. All his blots upon my documents, were dropped there after twelve o'clock, meridian. Indeed, not only would he be reckless and sadly given to making blots in the afternoon, but some days he went further, and was rather noisy. At such times, too, his face flamed with augmented blazonry, as if cannel coal had been heaped on anthracite. He made an unpleasant racket with his chair; spilled his sand-box; in mending his pens, impatiently split them all to pieces, and threw them on the floor in a sudden passion; stood up and leaned over his table, boxing his papers about in a most indecorous manner, very sad to behold in an elderly man like him. Nevertheless, as he was in many ways a most valuable person to me, and all the time before twelve o'clock, meridian, was the quickest, steadiest creature too, accomplishing a great deal of work in a style not easy to be matched—for these reasons, I was willing to overlook his eccentricities, though indeed, occasionally, I remonstrated with him. I did this very gently, however, because, though the civilest, nay, the blandest and most reverential of men in the morning, yet in the afternoon he was disposed, upon provocation, to be slightly rash with his tongue, in fact, insolent. Now, valuing his morning services as I did, and resolved not to lose them; yet, at the same time made uncomfortable by his inflamed ways after twelve o'clock; and being a man of peace, unwilling by my admonitions to call forth unseemly retorts from him; I took upon me, one Saturday noon (he was always worse on Saturdays), to hint to him, very kindly, that perhaps now that he was growing old, it might be well to abridge his labors; in short, he need not come to my chambers after twelve o'clock, but, dinner over, had best go home to his lodgings and rest himself till teatime. But no; he insisted upon his afternoon devotions. His countenance became intolerably fervid, as he oratorically assured me—gesticulating with a long ruler at the other end of the room—that if his services in the morning were useful, how indispensable, then, in the afternoon?"With submission, sir," said Turkey on this occasion, "I consider myself your right-hand man. In the morning I but marshal and deploy my columns; but in the afternoon I put myself at their head, and gallantly charge the foe, thus!"—and he made a violent thrust with the ruler."But the blots, Turkey," intimated I."True,—but, with submission, sir, behold these hairs! I am getting old. Surely, sir, a blot or two of a warm afternoon is not to be severely urged against gray hairs. Old age—even if it blot the page—is honorable. With submission, sir, we both are getting old."This appeal to my fellow-feeling was hardly to be resisted. At all events, I saw that go he would not. So I made up my mind to let him stay, resolving, nevertheless, to see to it, that during the afternoon he had to do with my less important papers.Nippers, the second on my list, was a whiskered, sallow, and, upon the whole, rather piratical-looking young man of about five and twenty. I always deemed him the victim of two evil powers—ambition and indigestion. The ambition was evinced by a certain impatience of the duties of a mere copyist, an unwarrantable usurpation of strictly professional affairs, such as the original drawing up of legal documents. The indigestion seemed betokened in an occasional nervous testiness and grinning irritability, causing the teeth to audibly grind together over mistakes committed in copying; unnecessary maledictions, hissed, rather than spoken, in the heat of business; and especially by a continual discontent with the height of the table where he worked. Though of a very ingenious mechanical turn, Nippers could never get this table to suit him. He put chips under it, blocks of various sorts, bits of pasteboard, and at last went so far as to attempt an exquisite adjustment by final pieces of folded blotting paper. But no invention would answer. If, for the sake of easing his back, he brought the table lid at a sharp angle well up towards his chin, and wrote there like a man using the steep roof of a Dutch house for his desk:—then he declared that it stopped the circulation in his arms. If now he lowered the table to his waistbands, and stooped over it in writing, then there was a sore aching in his back. In short, the truth of the matter was, Nippers knew not what he wanted. Or, if he wanted any thing, it was to be rid of a scrivener's table altogether. Among the manifestations of his diseased ambition was a fondness he had for receiving visits from certain ambiguous-looking fellows in seedy coats, whom he called his clients. Indeed I was aware that not only was he, at times, considerable of a ward-politician, but he occasionally did a little business at the Justices' courts, and was not unknown on the steps of the Tombs. I have good reason to believe, however, that one individual who called upon him at my chambers, and who, with a grand air, he insisted was his client, was no other than a dun, and the alleged title-deed, a bill. But with all his failings, and the annoyances he caused me, Nippers, like his compatriot Turkey, was a very useful man to me; wrote a neat, swift hand; and, when he chose, was not deficient in a gentlemanly sort of deportment. Added to this, he always dressed in a gentlemanly sort of way; and so, incidentally, reflected credit upon my chambers. Whereas with respect to Turkey, I had much ado to keep him from being a reproach to me. His clothes were apt to look oily and smell of eating-houses. He wore his pantaloons very loose and baggy in summer. His coats were execrable; his hat not to be handled. But while the hat was a thing of indifference to me, inasmuch as his natural civility and deference, as a dependent Englishman, always led him to doff it the moment he entered the room, yet his coat was another matter. Concerning his coats, I reasoned with him; but with no effect. The truth was, I suppose, that a man of so small an income, could not afford to sport such a lustrous face and a lustrous coat at one and the same time. As Nippers once observed, Turkey's money went chiefly for red ink. One winter day I presented Turkey with a highly-respectable looking coat of my own, a padded gray coat, of a most comfortable warmth, and which buttoned straight up from the knee to the neck. I thought Turkey would appreciate the favor, and abate his rashness and obstreperousness of afternoons. But no. I verily believe that buttoning himself up in so downy and blanket-like a coat had a pernicious effect upon him; upon the same principle that too much oats are bad for horses. In fact, precisely as a rash, restive horse is said to feel his oats, so Turkey felt his coat. It made him insolent. He was a man whom prosperity harmed.Though concerning the self-indulgent habits of Turkey I had my own private surmises, yet touching Nippers I was well persuaded that whatever might by his faults in other respects, he was, at least, a temperate young man. But indeed, nature herself seemed to have been his vintner, and at his birth charged him so thoroughly with an irritable, brandy-like disposition, that all subsequent potations were needless. When I consider how, amid the stillness of my chambers, Nippers would sometimes impatiently rise from his seat, and stooping over his table, spread his arms wide apart, seize the whole desk, and move it, and jerk it, with a grim, grinding motion on the floor, as if the table were a perverse voluntary agent, intent on thwarting and vexing him; I plainly perceive that for Nippers, brandy and water were altogether superfluous.It was fortunate for me that, owing to its peculiar cause—indigestion—the irritability and consequent nervousness of Nippers, were mainly observable in the morning, while in the afternoon he was comparatively mild. So that Turkey's paroxysms only coming on about twelve o'clock, I never had to do with their eccentricities at one time. Their fits relieved each other like guards. When Nippers' was on, Turkey's was off; and vice versa. This was a good natural arrangement under the circumstances.Ginger Nut, the third on my list, was a lad some twelve years old. His father was a carman, ambitious of seeing his son on the bench instead of a cart, before he died. So he sent him to my office as student at law, errand boy, and cleaner and sweeper, at the rate of one dollar a week. He had a little desk to himself, but he did not use it much. Upon inspection, the drawer exhibited a great array of the shells of various sorts of nuts. Indeed, to this quick-witted youth the whole noble science of the law was contained in a nut-shell. Not the least among the employments of Ginger Nut, as well as one which he discharged with the most alacrity, was his duty as cake and apple purveyor for Turkey and Nippers. Copying law papers being proverbially dry, husky sort of business, my two scriveners were fain to moisten their mouths very often with Spitzenbergs to be had at the numerous stalls nigh the Custom House and Post Office. Also, they sent Ginger Nut very frequently for that peculiar cake—small, flat, round, and very spicy—after which he had been named by them. Of a cold morning when business was but dull, Turkey would gobble up scores of these cakes, as if they were mere wafers—indeed they sell them at the rate of six or eight for a penny—the scrape of his pen blending with the crunching of the crisp particles in his mouth. Of all the fiery afternoon blunders and flurried rashnesses of Turkey, was his once moistening a ginger-cake between his lips, and clapping it on to a mortgage for a seal. I came within an ace of dismissing him then. But he mollified me by making an oriental bow, and saying—"With submission, sir, it was generous of me to find you in stationery on my own account."Now my original business—that of a conveyancer and title hunter, and drawer-up of recondite documents of all sorts—was considerably increased by receiving the master's office. There was now great work for scriveners. Not only must I push the clerks already with me, but I must have additional help. In answer to my advertisement, a motionless young man one morning, stood upon my office threshold, the door being open, for it was summer. I can see that figure now—pallidly neat, pitiably respectable, incurably forlorn! It was Bartleby.After a few words touching his qualifications, I engaged him, glad to have among my corps of copyists a man of so singularly sedate an aspect, which I thought might operate beneficially upon the flighty temper of Turkey, and the fiery one of Nippers.I should have stated before that ground glass folding-doors divided my premises into two parts, one of which was occupied by my scriveners, the other by myself. According to my humor I threw open these doors, or closed them. I resolved to assign Bartleby a corner by the folding-doors, but on my side of them, so as to have this quiet man within easy call, in case any trifling thing was to be done. I placed his desk close up to a small side-window in that part of the room, a window which originally had afforded a lateral view of certain grimy back-yards and bricks, but which, owing to subsequent erections, commanded at present no view at all, though it gave some light. Within three feet of the panes was a wall, and the light came down from far above, between two lofty buildings, as from a very small opening in a dome. Still further to a satisfactory arrangement, I procured a high green folding screen, which might entirely isolate Bartleby from my sight, though not remove him from my voice. And thus, in a manner, privacy and society were conjoined.At first Bartleby did an extraordinary quantity of writing. As if long famishing for something to copy, he seemed to gorge himself on my documents. There was no pause for digestion. He ran a day and night line, copying by sun-light and by candle-light. I should have been quite delighted with his application, had he been cheerfully industrious. But he wrote on silently, palely, mechanically.It is, of course, an indispensable part of a scrivener's business to verify the accuracy of his copy, word by word. Where there are two or more scriveners in an office, they assist each other in this examination, one reading from the copy, the other holding the original. It is a very dull, wearisome, and lethargic affair. I can readily imagine that to some sanguine temperaments it would be altogether intolerable. For example, I cannot credit that the mettlesome poet Byron would have contentedly sat down with Bartleby to examine a law document of, say five hundred pages, closely written in a crimpy hand.Now and then, in the haste of business, it had been my habit to assist in comparing some brief document myself, calling Turkey or Nippers for this purpose. One object I had in placing Bartleby so handy to me behind the screen, was to avail myself of his services on such trivial occasions. It was on the third day, I think, of his being with me, and before any necessity had arisen for having his own writing examined, that, being much hurried to complete a small affair I had in hand, I abruptly called to Bartleby. In my haste and natural expectancy of instant compliance, I sat with my head bent over the original on my desk, and my right hand sideways, and somewhat nervously extended with the copy, so that immediately upon emerging from his retreat, Bartleby might snatch it and proceed to business without the least delay.In this very attitude did I sit when I called to him, rapidly stating what it was I wanted him to do—namely, to examine a small paper with me. Imagine my surprise, nay, my consternation, when without moving from his privacy, Bartleby in a singularly mild, firm voice, replied, "I would prefer not to."I sat awhile in perfect silence, rallying my stunned faculties. Immediately it occurred to me that my ears had deceived me, or Bartleby had entirely misunderstood my meaning. I repeated my request in the clearest tone I could assume. But in quite as clear a one came the previous reply, "I would prefer not to.""Prefer not to," echoed I, rising in high excitement, and crossing the room with a stride. "What do you mean? Are you moon-struck? I want you to help me compare this sheet here—take it," and I thrust it towards him."I would prefer not to," said he.I looked at him steadfastly. His face was leanly composed; his gray eye dimly calm. Not a wrinkle of agitation rippled him. Had there been the least uneasiness, anger, impatience or impertinence in his manner; in other words, had there been any thing ordinarily human about him, doubtless I should have violently dismissed him from the premises. But as it was, I should have as soon thought of turning my pale plaster-of-paris bust of Cicero out of doors. I stood gazing at him awhile, as he went on with his own writing, and then reseated myself at my desk. This is very strange, thought I. What had one best do? But my business hurried me. I concluded to forget the matter for the present, reserving it for my future leisure. So calling Nippers from the other room, the paper was speedily examined.A few days after this, Bartleby concluded four lengthy documents, being quadruplicates of a week's testimony taken before me in my High Court of Chancery. It became necessary to examine them. It was an important suit, and great accuracy was imperative. Having all things arranged I called Turkey, Nippers and Ginger Nut from the next room, meaning to place the four copies in the hands of my four clerks, while I should read from the original. Accordingly Turkey, Nippers and Ginger Nut had taken their seats in a row, each with his document in hand, when I called to Bartleby to join this interesting group."Bartleby! quick, I am waiting."I heard a slow scrape of his chair legs on the uncarpeted floor, and soon he appeared standing at the entrance of his hermitage."What is wanted?" said he mildly."The copies, the copies," said I hurriedly. "We are going to examine them. There"—and I held towards him the fourth quadruplicate."I would prefer not to," he said, and gently disappeared behind the screen.For a few moments I was turned into a pillar of salt, standing at the head of my seated column of clerks. Recovering myself, I advanced towards the screen, and demanded the reason for such extraordinary conduct."Why do you refuse?""I would prefer not to."With any other man I should have flown outright into a dreadful passion, scorned all further words, and thrust him ignominiously from my presence. But there was something about Bartleby that not only strangely disarmed me, but in a wonderful manner touched and disconcerted me. I began to reason with him."These are your own copies we are about to examine. It is labor saving to you, because one examination will answer for your four papers. It is common usage. Every copyist is bound to help examine his copy. Is it not so? Will you not speak? Answer!""I prefer not to," he replied in a flute-like tone. It seemed to me that while I had been addressing him, he carefully revolved every statement that I made; fully comprehended the meaning; could not gainsay the irresistible conclusions; but, at the same time, some paramount consideration prevailed with him to reply as he did."You are decided, then, not to comply with my request—a request made according to common usage and common sense?"He briefly gave me to understand that on that point my judgment was sound. Yes: his decision was irreversible.It is not seldom the case that when a man is browbeaten in some unprecedented and violently unreasonable way, he begins to stagger in his own plainest faith. He begins, as it were, vaguely to surmise that, wonderful as it may be, all the justice and all the reason is on the other side. Accordingly, if any disinterested persons are present, he turns to them for some reinforcement for his own faltering mind."Turkey," said I, "what do you think of this? Am I not right?""With submission, sir," said Turkey, with his blandest tone, "I think that you are.""Nippers," said I, "what do you think of it?""I think I should kick him out of the office."(The reader of nice perceptions will here perceive that, it being morning, Turkey's answer is couched in polite and tranquil terms, but Nippers replies in ill-tempered ones. Or, to repeat a previous sentence, Nippers' ugly mood was on duty and Turkey's off.)"Ginger Nut," said I, willing to enlist the smallest suffrage in my behalf, "what do you think of it?""I think, sir, he's a little luny," replied Ginger Nut with a grin."You hear what they say," said I, turning towards the screen, "come forth and do your duty."But he vouchsafed no reply. I pondered a moment in sore perplexity. But once more business hurried me. I determined again to postpone the consideration of this dilemma to my future leisure. With a little trouble we made out to examine the papers without Bartleby, though at every page or two, Turkey deferentially dropped his opinion that this proceeding was quite out of the common; while Nippers, twitching in his chair with a dyspeptic nervousness, ground out between his set teeth occasional hissing maledictions against the stubborn oaf behind the screen. And for his (Nippers') part, this was the first and the last time he would do another man's business without pay.Meanwhile Bartleby sat in his hermitage, oblivious to every thing but his own peculiar business there.Some days passed, the scrivener being employed upon another lengthy work. His late remarkable conduct led me to regard his ways narrowly. I observed that he never went to dinner; indeed that he never went any where. As yet I had never of my personal knowledge known him to be outside of my office. He was a perpetual sentry in the corner. At about eleven o'clock though, in the morning, I noticed that Ginger Nut would advance toward the opening in Bartleby's screen, as if silently beckoned thither by a gesture invisible to me where I sat. The boy would then leave the office jingling a few pence, and reappear with a handful of ginger-nuts which he delivered in the hermitage, receiving two of the cakes for his trouble.He lives, then, on ginger-nuts, thought I; never eats a dinner, properly speaking; he must be a vegetarian then; but no; he never eats even vegetables, he eats nothing but ginger-nuts. My mind then ran on in reveries concerning the probable effects upon the human constitution of living entirely on ginger-nuts. Ginger-nuts are so called because they contain ginger as one of their peculiar constituents, and the final flavoring one. Now what was ginger? A hot, spicy thing. Was Bartleby hot and spicy? Not at all. Ginger, then, had no effect upon Bartleby. Probably he preferred it should have none.Nothing so aggravates an earnest person as a passive resistance. If the individual so resisted be of a not inhumane temper, and the resisting one perfectly harmless in his passivity; then, in the better moods of the former, he will endeavor charitably to construe to his imagination what proves impossible to be solved by his judgment. Even so, for the most part, I regarded Bartleby and his ways. Poor fellow! thought I, he means no mischief; it is plain he intends no insolence; his aspect sufficiently evinces that his eccentricities are involuntary. He is useful to me. I can get along with him. If I turn him away, the chances are he will fall in with some less indulgent employer, and then he will be rudely treated, and perhaps driven forth miserably to starve. Yes. Here I can cheaply purchase a delicious self-approval. To befriend Bartleby; to humor him in his strange willfulness, will cost me little or nothing, while I lay up in my soul what will eventually prove a sweet morsel for my conscience. But this mood was not invariable with me. The passiveness of Bartleby sometimes irritated me. I felt strangely goaded on to encounter him in new opposition, to elicit some angry spark from him answerable to my own. But indeed I might as well have essayed to strike fire with my knuckles against a bit of Windsor soap. But one afternoon the evil impulse in me mastered me, and the following little scene ensued:"Bartleby," said I, "when those papers are all copied, I will compare them with you.""I would prefer not to.""How? Surely you do not mean to persist in that mulish vagary?"No answer.I threw open the folding-doors near by, and turning upon Turkey andNippers, exclaimed in an excited manner—"He says, a second time, he won't examine his papers. What do you think of it, Turkey?"It was afternoon, be it remembered. Turkey sat glowing like a brass boiler, his bald head steaming, his hands reeling among his blotted papers."Think of it?" roared Turkey; "I think I'll just step behind his screen, and black his eyes for him!"So saying, Turkey rose to his feet and threw his arms into a pugilistic position. He was hurrying away to make good his promise, when I detained him, alarmed at the effect of incautiously rousing Turkey's combativeness after dinner."Sit down, Turkey," said I, "and hear what Nippers has to say. What do you think of it, Nippers? Would I not be justified in immediately dismissing Bartleby?""Excuse me, that is for you to decide, sir. I think his conduct quite unusual, and indeed unjust, as regards Turkey and myself. But it may only be a passing whim.""Ah," exclaimed I, "you have strangely changed your mind then—you speak very gently of him now.""All beer," cried Turkey; "gentleness is effects of beer—Nippers and I dined together to-day. You see how gentle I am, sir. Shall I go and black his eyes?""You refer to Bartleby, I suppose. No, not to-day, Turkey," I replied; "pray, put up your fists."I closed the doors, and again advanced towards Bartleby. I felt additional incentives tempting me to my fate. I burned to be rebelled against again. I remembered that Bartleby never left the office."Bartleby," said I, "Ginger Nut is away; just step round to the Post Office, won't you? (it was but a three minute walk,) and see if there is any thing for me.""I would prefer not to.""You will not?""I prefer not."I staggered to my desk, and sat there in a deep study. My blind inveteracy returned. Was there any other thing in which I could procure myself to be ignominiously repulsed by this lean, penniless wight?—my hired clerk? What added thing is there, perfectly reasonable, that he will be sure to refuse to do?"Bartleby!"No answer."Bartleby," in a louder tone.No answer."Bartleby," I roared.Like a very ghost, agreeably to the laws of magical invocation, at the third summons, he appeared at the entrance of his hermitage."Go to the next room, and tell Nippers to come to me.""I prefer not to," he respectfully and slowly said, and mildly disappeared."Very good, Bartleby," said I, in a quiet sort of serenely severe self-possessed tone, intimating the unalterable purpose of some terrible retribution very close at hand. At the moment I half intended something of the kind. But upon the whole, as it was drawing towards my dinner-hour, I thought it best to put on my hat and walk home for the day, suffering much from perplexity and distress of mind.Shall I acknowledge it? The conclusion of this whole business was, that it soon became a fixed fact of my chambers, that a pale young scrivener, by the name of Bartleby, and a desk there; that he copied for me at the usual rate of four cents a folio (one hundred words); but he was permanently exempt from examining the work done by him, that duty being transferred to Turkey and Nippers, one of compliment doubtless to their superior acuteness; moreover, said Bartleby was never on any account to be dispatched on the most trivial errand of any sort; and that even if entreated to take upon him such a matter, it was generally understood that he would prefer not to—in other words, that he would refuse pointblank.As days passed on, I became considerably reconciled to Bartleby. His steadiness, his freedom from all dissipation, his incessant industry (except when he chose to throw himself into a standing revery behind his screen), his great, stillness, his unalterableness of demeanor under all circumstances, made him a valuable acquisition. One prime thing was this,—he was always there;—first in the morning, continually through the day, and the last at night. I had a singular confidence in his honesty. I felt my most precious papers perfectly safe in his hands. Sometimes to be sure I could not, for the very soul of me, avoid falling into sudden spasmodic passions with him. For it was exceeding difficult to bear in mind all the time those strange peculiarities, privileges, and unheard of exemptions, forming the tacit stipulations on Bartleby's part under which he remained in my office. Now and then, in the eagerness of dispatching pressing business, I would inadvertently summon Bartleby, in a short, rapid tone, to put his finger, say, on the incipient tie of a bit of red tape with which I was about compressing some papers. Of course, from behind the screen the usual answer, "I prefer not to," was sure to come; and then, how could a human creature with the common infirmities of our nature, refrain from bitterly exclaiming upon such perverseness—such unreasonableness. However, every added repulse of this sort which I received only tended to lessen the probability of my repeating the inadvertence.Here it must be said, that according to the custom of most legal gentlemen occupying chambers in densely-populated law buildings, there were several keys to my door. One was kept by a woman residing in the attic, which person weekly scrubbed and daily swept and dusted my apartments. Another was kept by Turkey for convenience sake. The third I sometimes carried in my own pocket. The fourth I knew not who had.Now, one Sunday morning I happened to go to Trinity Church, to hear a celebrated preacher, and finding myself rather early on the ground, I thought I would walk around to my chambers for a while. Luckily I had my key with me; but upon applying it to the lock, I found it resisted by something inserted from the inside. Quite surprised, I called out; when to my consternation a key was turned from within; and thrusting his lean visage at me, and holding the door ajar, the apparition of Bartleby appeared, in his shirt sleeves, and otherwise in a strangely tattered dishabille, saying quietly that he was sorry, but he was deeply engaged just then, and—preferred not admitting me at present. In a brief word or two, he moreover added, that perhaps I had better walk round the block two or three times, and by that time he would probably have concluded his affairs.Now, the utterly unsurmised appearance of Bartleby, tenanting my law-chambers of a Sunday morning, with his cadaverously gentlemanly nonchalance, yet withal firm and self-possessed, had such a strange effect upon me, that incontinently I slunk away from my own door, and did as desired. But not without sundry twinges of impotent rebellion against the mild effrontery of this unaccountable scrivener. Indeed, it was his wonderful mildness chiefly, which not only disarmed me, but unmanned me, as it were. For I consider that one, for the time, is a sort of unmanned when he tranquilly permits his hired clerk to dictate to him, and order him away from his own premises. Furthermore, I was full of uneasiness as to what Bartleby could possibly be doing in my office in his shirt sleeves, and in an otherwise dismantled condition of a Sunday morning. Was any thing amiss going on? Nay, that was out of the question. It was not to be thought of for a moment that Bartleby was an immoral person. But what could he be doing there?—copying? Nay again, whatever might be his eccentricities, Bartleby was an eminently decorous person. He would be the last man to sit down to his desk in any state approaching to nudity. Besides, it was Sunday; and there was something about Bartleby that forbade the supposition that he would by any secular occupation violate the proprieties of the day.Nevertheless, my mind was not pacified; and full of a restless curiosity, at last I returned to the door. Without hindrance I inserted my key, opened it, and entered. Bartleby was not to be seen. I looked round anxiously, peeped behind his screen; but it was very plain that he was gone. Upon more closely examining the place, I surmised that for an indefinite period Bartleby must have ate, dressed, and slept in my office, and that too without plate, mirror, or bed. The cushioned seat of a rickety old sofa in one corner bore the faint impress of a lean, reclining form. Rolled away under his desk, I found a blanket; under the empty grate, a blacking box and brush; on a chair, a tin basin, with soap and a ragged towel; in a newspaper a few crumbs of ginger-nuts and a morsel of cheese. Yes, thought I, it is evident enough that Bartleby has been making his home here, keeping bachelor's hall all by himself. Immediately then the thought came sweeping across me, What miserable friendlessness and loneliness are here revealed! His poverty is great; but his solitude, how horrible! Think of it. Of a Sunday, Wall-street is deserted as Petra; and every night of every day it is an emptiness. This building too, which of week-days hums with industry and life, at nightfall echoes with sheer vacancy, and all through Sunday is forlorn. And here Bartleby makes his home; sole spectator of a solitude which he has seen all populous—a sort of innocent and transformed Marius brooding among the ruins of Carthage!For the first time in my life a feeling of overpowering stinging melancholy seized me. Before, I had never experienced aught but a not-unpleasing sadness. The bond of a common humanity now drew me irresistibly to gloom. A fraternal melancholy! For both I and Bartleby were sons of Adam. I remembered the bright silks and sparkling faces I had seen that day, in gala trim, swan-like sailing down the Mississippi of Broadway; and I contrasted them with the pallid copyist, and thought to myself, Ah, happiness courts the light, so we deem the world is gay; but misery hides aloof, so we deem that misery there is none. These sad fancyings—chimeras, doubtless, of a sick and silly brain—led on to other and more special thoughts, concerning the eccentricities of Bartleby. Presentiments of strange discoveries hovered round me. The scrivener's pale form appeared to me laid out, among uncaring strangers, in its shivering winding sheet.Suddenly I was attracted by Bartleby's closed desk, the key in open sight left in the lock.I mean no mischief, seek the gratification of no heartless curiosity, thought I; besides, the desk is mine, and its contents too, so I will make bold to look within. Every thing was methodically arranged, the papers smoothly placed. The pigeon holes were deep, and removing the files of documents, I groped into their recesses. Presently I felt something there, and dragged it out. It was an old bandanna handkerchief, heavy and knotted. I opened it, and saw it was a savings' bank.I now recalled all the quiet mysteries which I had noted in the man. I remembered that he never spoke but to answer; that though at intervals he had considerable time to himself, yet I had never seen him reading—no, not even a newspaper; that for long periods he would stand looking out, at his pale window behind the screen, upon the dead brick wall; I was quite sure he never visited any refectory or eating house; while his pale face clearly indicated that he never drank beer like Turkey, or tea and coffee even, like other men; that he never went any where in particular that I could learn; never went out for a walk, unless indeed that was the case at present; that he had declined telling who he was, or whence he came, or whether he had any relatives in the world; that though so thin and pale, he never complained of ill health. And more than all, I remembered a certain unconscious air of pallid—how shall I call it?—of pallid haughtiness, say, or rather an austere reserve about him, which had positively awed me into my tame compliance with his eccentricities, when I had feared to ask him to do the slightest incidental thing for me, even though I might know, from his long-continued motionlessness, that behind his screen he must be standing in one of those dead-wall reveries of his.Revolving all these things, and coupling them with the recently discovered fact that he made my office his constant abiding place and home, and not forgetful of his morbid moodiness; revolving all these things, a prudential feeling began to steal over me. My first emotions had been those of pure melancholy and sincerest pity; but just in proportion as the forlornness of Bartleby grew and grew to my imagination, did that same melancholy merge into fear, that pity into repulsion. So true it is, and so terrible too, that up to a certain point the thought or sight of misery enlists our best affections; but, in certain special cases, beyond that point it does not. They err who would assert that invariably this is owing to the inherent selfishness of the human heart. It rather proceeds from a certain hopelessness of remedying excessive and organic ill. To a sensitive being, pity is not seldom pain. And when at last it is perceived that such pity cannot lead to effectual succor, common sense bids the soul rid of it. What I saw that morning persuaded me that the scrivener was the victim of innate and incurable disorder. I might give alms to his body; but his body did not pain him; it was his soul that suffered, and his soul I could not reach.I did not accomplish the purpose of going to Trinity Church that morning. Somehow, the things I had seen disqualified me for the time from church-going. I walked homeward, thinking what I would do with Bartleby. Finally, I resolved upon this;—I would put certain calm questions to him the next morning, touching his history, etc., and if he declined to answer them openly and unreservedly (and I supposed he would prefer not), then to give him a twenty dollar bill over and above whatever I might owe him, and tell him his services were no longer required; but that if in any other way I could assist him, I would be happy to do so, especially if he desired to return to his native place, wherever that might be, I would willingly help to defray the expenses. Moreover, if, after reaching home, he found himself at any time in want of aid, a letter from him would be sure of a reply.The next morning came."Bartleby," said I, gently calling to him behind his screen.No reply."Bartleby," said I, in a still gentler tone, "come here; I am not going to ask you to do any thing you would prefer not to do—I simply wish to speak to you."Upon this he noiselessly slid into view."Will you tell me, Bartleby, where you were born?""I would prefer not to.""Will you tell me any thing about yourself?""I would prefer not to.""But what reasonable objection can you have to speak to me? I feel friendly towards you."He did not look at me while I spoke, but kept his glance fixed upon my bust of Cicero, which as I then sat, was directly behind me, some six inches above my head."What is your answer, Bartleby?" said I, after waiting a considerable time for a reply, during which his countenance remained immovable, only there was the faintest conceivable tremor of the white attenuated mouth."At present I prefer to give no answer," he said, and retired into his hermitage.It was rather weak in me I confess, but his manner on this occasion nettled me. Not only did there seem to lurk in it a certain calm disdain, but his perverseness seemed ungrateful, considering the undeniable good usage and indulgence he had received from me.Again I sat ruminating what I should do. Mortified as I was at his behavior, and resolved as I had been to dismiss him when I entered my offices, nevertheless I strangely felt something superstitious knocking at my heart, and forbidding me to carry out my purpose, and denouncing me for a villain if I dared to breathe one bitter word against this forlornest of mankind. At last, familiarly drawing my chair behind his screen, I sat down and said: "Bartleby, never mind then about revealing your history; but let me entreat you, as a friend, to comply as far as may be with the usages of this office. Say now you will help to examine papers to-morrow or next day: in short, say now that in a day or two you will begin to be a little reasonable:—say so, Bartleby.""At present I would prefer not to be a little reasonable," was his mildly cadaverous reply.Just then the folding-doors opened, and Nippers approached. He seemed suffering from an unusually bad night's rest, induced by severer indigestion then common. He overheard those final words of Bartleby."Prefer not, eh?" gritted Nippers—"I'd prefer him, if I were you, sir," addressing me—"I'd prefer him; I'd give him preferences, the stubborn mule! What is it, sir, pray, that he prefers not to do now?"Bartleby moved not a limb."Mr. Nippers," said I, "I'd prefer that you would withdraw for the present."Somehow, of late I had got into the way of involuntarily using this word "prefer" upon all sorts of not exactly suitable occasions. And I trembled to think that my contact with the scrivener had already and seriously affected me in a mental way. And what further and deeper aberration might it not yet produce? This apprehension had not been without efficacy in determining me to summary means.As Nippers, looking very sour and sulky, was departing, Turkey blandly and deferentially approached."With submission, sir," said he, "yesterday I was thinking about Bartleby here, and I think that if he would but prefer to take a quart of good ale every day, it would do much towards mending him, and enabling him to assist in examining his papers.""So you have got the word too," said I, slightly excited."With submission, what word, sir," asked Turkey, respectfully crowding himself into the contracted space behind the screen, and by so doing, making me jostle the scrivener. "What word, sir?""I would prefer to be left alone here," said Bartleby, as if offended at being mobbed in his privacy."That's the word, Turkey," said I—"that's it.""Oh, prefer? oh yes—queer word. I never use it myself. But, sir, asI was saying, if he would but prefer—""Turkey," interrupted I, "you will please withdraw.""Oh certainly, sir, if you prefer that I should."As he opened the folding-door to retire, Nippers at his desk caught a glimpse of me, and asked whether I would prefer to have a certain paper copied on blue paper or white. He did not in the least roguishly accent the word prefer. It was plain that it involuntarily rolled form his tongue. I thought to myself, surely I must get rid of a demented man, who already has in some degree turned the tongues, if not the heads of myself and clerks. But I thought it prudent not to break the dismission at once.The next day I noticed that Bartleby did nothing but stand at his window in his dead-wall revery. Upon asking him why he did not write, he said that he had decided upon doing no more writing."Why, how now? what next?" exclaimed I, "do no more writing?""No more.""And what is the reason?""Do you not see the reason for yourself," he indifferently replied.I looked steadfastly at him, and perceived that his eyes looked dull and glazed. Instantly it occurred to me, that his unexampled diligence in copying by his dim window for the first few weeks of his stay with me might have temporarily impaired his vision.I was touched. I said something in condolence with him. I hinted that of course he did wisely in abstaining from writing for a while; and urged him to embrace that opportunity of taking wholesome exercise in the open air. This, however, he did not do. A few days after this, my other clerks being absent, and being in a great hurry to dispatch certain letters by the mail, I thought that, having nothing else earthly to do, Bartleby would surely be less inflexible than usual, and carry these letters to the post-office. But he blankly declined. So, much to my inconvenience, I went myself.Still added days went by. Whether Bartleby's eyes improved or not, I could not say. To all appearance, I thought they did. But when I asked him if they did, he vouchsafed no answer. At all events, he would do no copying. At last, in reply to my urgings, he informed me that he had permanently given up copying."What!" exclaimed I; "suppose your eyes should get entirely well—better than ever before—would you not copy then?""I have given up copying," he answered, and slid aside.He remained as ever, a fixture in my chamber. Nay—if that were possible—he became still more of a fixture than before. What was to be done? He would do nothing in the office: why should he stay there? In plain fact, he had now become a millstone to me, not only useless as a necklace, but afflictive to bear. Yet I was sorry for him. I speak less than truth when I say that, on his own account, he occasioned me uneasiness. If he would but have named a single relative or friend, I would instantly have written, and urged their taking the poor fellow away to some convenient retreat. But he seemed alone, absolutely alone in the universe. A bit of wreck in the mid Atlantic. At length, necessities connected with my business tyrannized over all other considerations. Decently as I could, I told Bartleby that in six days' time he must unconditionally leave the office. I warned him to take measures, in the interval, for procuring some other abode. I offered to assist him in this endeavor, if he himself would but take the first step towards a removal. "And when you finally quit me, Bartleby," added I, "I shall see that you go not away entirely unprovided. Six days from this hour, remember."At the expiration of that period, I peeped behind the screen, and lo!Bartleby was there.I buttoned up my coat, balanced myself; advanced slowly towards him, touched his shoulder, and said, "The time has come; you must quit this place; I am sorry for you; here is money; but you must go.""I would prefer not," he replied, with his back still towards me."You must."He remained silent.Now I had an unbounded confidence in this man's common honesty. He had frequently restored to me sixpences and shillings carelessly dropped upon the floor, for I am apt to be very reckless in such shirt-button affairs. The proceeding then which followed will not be deemed extraordinary."Bartleby," said I, "I owe you twelve dollars on account; here are thirty-two; the odd twenty are yours.—Will you take it?" and I handed the bills towards him.But he made no motion."I will leave them here then," putting them under a weight on the table. Then taking my hat and cane and going to the door I tranquilly turned and added—"After you have removed your things from these offices, Bartleby, you will of course lock the door—since every one is now gone for the day but you—and if you please, slip your key underneath the mat, so that I may have it in the morning. I shall not see you again; so good-bye to you. If hereafter in your new place of abode I can be of any service to you, do not fail to advise me by letter. Good-bye, Bartleby, and fare you well."But he answered not a word; like the last column of some ruined temple, he remained standing mute and solitary in the middle of the otherwise deserted room.As I walked home in a pensive mood, my vanity got the better of my pity. I could not but highly plume myself on my masterly management in getting rid of Bartleby. Masterly I call it, and such it must appear to any dispassionate thinker. The beauty of my procedure seemed to consist in its perfect quietness. There was no vulgar bullying, no bravado of any sort, no choleric hectoring, and striding to and fro across the apartment, jerking out vehement commands for Bartleby to bundle himself off with his beggarly traps. Nothing of the kind. Without loudly bidding Bartleby depart—as an inferior genius might have done—I assumed the ground that depart he must; and upon that assumption built all I had to say. The more I thought over my procedure, the more I was charmed with it. Nevertheless, next morning, upon awakening, I had my doubts,—I had somehow slept off the fumes of vanity. One of the coolest and wisest hours a man has, is just after he awakes in the morning. My procedure seemed as sagacious as ever.—but only in theory. How it would prove in practice—there was the rub. It was truly a beautiful thought to have assumed Bartleby's departure; but, after all, that assumption was simply my own, and none of Bartleby's. The great point was, not whether I had assumed that he would quit me, but whether he would prefer so to do. He was more a man of preferences than assumptions.After breakfast, I walked down town, arguing the probabilities pro and con. One moment I thought it would prove a miserable failure, and Bartleby would be found all alive at my office as usual; the next moment it seemed certain that I should see his chair empty. And so I kept veering about. At the corner of Broadway and Canal-street, I saw quite an excited group of people standing in earnest conversation."I'll take odds he doesn't," said a voice as I passed."Doesn't go?—done!" said I, "put up your money."I was instinctively putting my hand in my pocket to produce my own, when I remembered that this was an election day. The words I had overheard bore no reference to Bartleby, but to the success or non-success of some candidate for the mayoralty. In my intent frame of mind, I had, as it were, imagined that all Broadway shared in my excitement, and were debating the same question with me. I passed on, very thankful that the uproar of the street screened my momentary absent-mindedness.As I had intended, I was earlier than usual at my office door. I stood listening for a moment. All was still. He must be gone. I tried the knob. The door was locked. Yes, my procedure had worked to a charm; he indeed must be vanished. Yet a certain melancholy mixed with this: I was almost sorry for my brilliant success. I was fumbling under the door mat for the key, which Bartleby was to have left there for me, when accidentally my knee knocked against a panel, producing a summoning sound, and in response a voice came to me from within—"Not yet; I am occupied."It was Bartleby.I was thunderstruck. For an instant I stood like the man who, pipe in mouth, was killed one cloudless afternoon long ago in Virginia, by a summer lightning; at his own warm open window he was killed, and remained leaning out there upon the dreamy afternoon, till some one touched him, when he fell."Not gone!" I murmured at last. But again obeying that wondrous ascendancy which the inscrutable scrivener had over me, and from which ascendancy, for all my chafing, I could not completely escape, I slowly went down stairs and out into the street, and while walking round the block, considered what I should next do in this unheard-of perplexity. Turn the man out by an actual thrusting I could not; to drive him away by calling him hard names would not do; calling in the police was an unpleasant idea; and yet, permit him to enjoy his cadaverous triumph over me,—this too I could not think of. What was to be done? or, if nothing could be done, was there any thing further that I could assume in the matter? Yes, as before I had prospectively assumed that Bartleby would depart, so now I might retrospectively assume that departed he was. In the legitimate carrying out of this assumption, I might enter my office in a great hurry, and pretending not to see Bartleby at all, walk straight against him as if he were air. Such a proceeding would in a singular degree have the appearance of a home-thrust. It was hardly possible that Bartleby could withstand such an application of the doctrine of assumptions. But upon second thoughts the success of the plan seemed rather dubious. I resolved to argue the matter over with him again."Bartleby," said I, entering the office, with a quietly severe expression, "I am seriously displeased. I am pained, Bartleby. I had thought better of you. I had imagined you of such a gentlemanly organization, that in any delicate dilemma a slight hint would have suffice—in short, an assumption. But it appears I am deceived. Why," I added, unaffectedly starting, "you have not even touched that money yet," pointing to it, just where I had left it the evening previous.He answered nothing."Will you, or will you not, quit me?" I now demanded in a sudden passion, advancing close to him."I would prefer not to quit you," he replied, gently emphasizing the not."What earthly right have you to stay here? Do you pay any rent? Do you pay my taxes? Or is this property yours?"He answered nothing."Are you ready to go on and write now? Are your eyes recovered? Could you copy a small paper for me this morning? or help examine a few lines? or step round to the post-office? In a word, will you do any thing at all, to give a coloring to your refusal to depart the premises?"He silently retired into his hermitage.I was now in such a state of nervous resentment that I thought it but prudent to check myself at present from further demonstrations. Bartleby and I were alone. I remembered the tragedy of the unfortunate Adams and the still more unfortunate Colt in the solitary office of the latter; and how poor Colt, being dreadfully incensed by Adams, and imprudently permitting himself to get wildly excited, was at unawares hurried into his fatal act—an act which certainly no man could possibly deplore more than the actor himself. Often it had occurred to me in my ponderings upon the subject, that had that altercation taken place in the public street, or at a private residence, it would not have terminated as it did. It was the circumstance of being alone in a solitary office, up stairs, of a building entirely unhallowed by humanizing domestic associations—an uncarpeted office, doubtless, of a dusty, haggard sort of appearance;—this it must have been, which greatly helped to enhance the irritable desperation of the hapless Colt.But when this old Adam of resentment rose in me and tempted me concerning Bartleby, I grappled him and threw him. How? Why, simply by recalling the divine injunction: "A new commandment give I unto you, that ye love one another." Yes, this it was that saved me. Aside from higher considerations, charity often operates as a vastly wise and prudent principle—a great safeguard to its possessor. Men have committed murder for jealousy's sake, and anger's sake, and hatred's sake, and selfishness' sake, and spiritual pride's sake; but no man that ever I heard of, ever committed a diabolical murder for sweet charity's sake. Mere self-interest, then, if no better motive can be enlisted, should, especially with high-tempered men, prompt all beings to charity and philanthropy. At any rate, upon the occasion in question, I strove to drown my exasperated feelings towards the scrivener by benevolently construing his conduct. Poor fellow, poor fellow! thought I, he don't mean any thing; and besides, he has seen hard times, and ought to be indulged.I endeavored also immediately to occupy myself, and at the same time to comfort my despondency. I tried to fancy that in the course of the morning, at such time as might prove agreeable to him. Bartleby, of his own free accord, would emerge from his hermitage, and take up some decided line of march in the direction of the door. But no. Half-past twelve o'clock came; Turkey began to glow in the face, overturn his inkstand, and become generally obstreperous; Nippers abated down into quietude and courtesy; Ginger Nut munched his noon apple; and Bartleby remained standing at his window in one of his profoundest dead-wall reveries. Will it be credited? Ought I to acknowledge it? That afternoon I left the office without saying one further word to him.Some days now passed, during which, at leisure intervals I looked a little into "Edwards on the Will," and "Priestly on Necessity." Under the circumstances, those books induced a salutary feeling. Gradually I slid into the persuasion that these troubles of mine touching the scrivener, had been all predestinated from eternity, and Bartleby was billeted upon me for some mysterious purpose of an all-wise Providence, which it was not for a mere mortal like me to fathom. Yes, Bartleby, stay there behind your screen, thought I; I shall persecute you no more; you are harmless and noiseless as any of these old chairs; in short, I never feel so private as when I know you are here. At last I see it, I feel it; I penetrate to the predestinated purpose of my life. I am content. Others may have loftier parts to enact; but my mission in this world, Bartleby, is to furnish you with office-room for such period as you may see fit to remain.I believe that this wise and blessed frame of mind would have continued with me, had it not been for the unsolicited and uncharitable remarks obtruded upon me by my professional friends who visited the rooms. But thus it often is, that the constant friction of illiberal minds wears out at last the best resolves of the more generous. Though to be sure, when I reflected upon it, it was not strange that people entering my office should be struck by the peculiar aspect of the unaccountable Bartleby, and so be tempted to throw out some sinister observations concerning him. Sometimes an attorney having business with me, and calling at my office and finding no one but the scrivener there, would undertake to obtain some sort of precise information from him touching my whereabouts; but without heeding his idle talk, Bartleby would remain standing immovable in the middle of the room. So after contemplating him in that position for a time, the attorney would depart, no wiser than he came.Also, when a Reference was going on, and the room full of lawyers and witnesses and business was driving fast; some deeply occupied legal gentleman present, seeing Bartleby wholly unemployed, would request him to run round to his (the legal gentleman's) office and fetch some papers for him. Thereupon, Bartleby would tranquilly decline, and yet remain idle as before. Then the lawyer would give a great stare, and turn to me. And what could I say? At last I was made aware that all through the circle of my professional acquaintance, a whisper of wonder was running round, having reference to the strange creature I kept at my office. This worried me very much. And as the idea came upon me of his possibly turning out a long-lived man, and keep occupying my chambers, and denying my authority; and perplexing my visitors; and scandalizing my professional reputation; and casting a general gloom over the premises; keeping soul and body together to the last upon his savings (for doubtless he spent but half a dime a day), and in the end perhaps outlive me, and claim possession of my office by right of his perpetual occupancy: as all these dark anticipations crowded upon me more and more, and my friends continually intruded their relentless remarks upon the apparition in my room; a great change was wrought in me. I resolved to gather all my faculties together, and for ever rid me of this intolerable incubus.Ere revolving any complicated project, however, adapted to this end, I first simply suggested to Bartleby the propriety of his permanent departure. In a calm and serious tone, I commended the idea to his careful and mature consideration. But having taken three days to meditate upon it, he apprised me that his original determination remained the same in short, that he still preferred to abide with me.What shall I do? I now said to myself, buttoning up my coat to the last button. What shall I do? what ought I to do? what does conscience say I should do with this man, or rather ghost. Rid myself of him, I must; go, he shall. But how? You will not thrust him, the poor, pale, passive mortal,—you will not thrust such a helpless creature out of your door? you will not dishonor yourself by such cruelty? No, I will not, I cannot do that. Rather would I let him live and die here, and then mason up his remains in the wall. What then will you do? For all your coaxing, he will not budge. Bribes he leaves under your own paperweight on your table; in short, it is quite plain that he prefers to cling to you.Then something severe, something unusual must be done. What! surely you will not have him collared by a constable, and commit his innocent pallor to the common jail? And upon what ground could you procure such a thing to be done?—a vagrant, is he? What! he a vagrant, a wanderer, who refuses to budge? It is because he will not be a vagrant, then, that you seek to count him as a vagrant. That is too absurd. No visible means of support: there I have him. Wrong again: for indubitably he does support himself, and that is the only unanswerable proof that any man can show of his possessing the means so to do. No more then. Since he will not quit me, I must quit him. I will change my offices; I will move elsewhere; and give him fair notice, that if I find him on my new premises I will then proceed against him as a common trespasser.Acting accordingly, next day I thus addressed him: "I find these chambers too far from the City Hall; the air is unwholesome. In a word, I propose to remove my offices next week, and shall no longer require your services. I tell you this now, in order that you may seek another place."He made no reply, and nothing more was said.On the appointed day I engaged carts and men, proceeded to my chambers, and having but little furniture, every thing was removed in a few hours. Throughout, the scrivener remained standing behind the screen, which I directed to be removed the last thing. It was withdrawn; and being folded up like a huge folio, left him the motionless occupant of a naked room. I stood in the entry watching him a moment, while something from within me upbraided me.I re-entered, with my hand in my pocket—and—and my heart in my mouth."Good-bye, Bartleby; I am going—good-bye, and God some way bless you; and take that," slipping something in his hand. But it dropped upon the floor, and then,—strange to say—I tore myself from him whom I had so longed to be rid of.Established in my new quarters, for a day or two I kept the door locked, and started at every footfall in the passages. When I returned to my rooms after any little absence, I would pause at the threshold for an instant, and attentively listen, ere applying my key. But these fears were needless. Bartleby never came nigh me.I thought all was going well, when a perturbed looking stranger visited me, inquiring whether I was the person who had recently occupied rooms at No.—Wall-street.Full of forebodings, I replied that I was."Then sir," said the stranger, who proved a lawyer, "you are responsible for the man you left there. He refuses to do any copying; he refuses to do any thing; he says he prefers not to; and he refuses to quit the premises.""I am very sorry, sir," said I, with assumed tranquility, but an inward tremor, "but, really, the man you allude to is nothing to me—he is no relation or apprentice of mine, that you should hold me responsible for him.""In mercy's name, who is he?""I certainly cannot inform you. I know nothing about him. Formerly I employed him as a copyist; but he has done nothing for me now for some time past.""I shall settle him then,—good morning, sir."Several days passed, and I heard nothing more; and though I often felt a charitable prompting to call at the place and see poor Bartleby, yet a certain squeamishness of I know not what withheld me.All is over with him, by this time, thought I at last, when through another week no further intelligence reached me. But coming to my room the day after, I found several persons waiting at my door in a high state of nervous excitement."That's the man—here he comes," cried the foremost one, whom I recognized as the lawyer who had previously called upon me alone."You must take him away, sir, at once," cried a portly person among them, advancing upon me, and whom I knew to be the landlord of No.—Wall-street. "These gentlemen, my tenants, cannot stand it any longer; Mr. B—" pointing to the lawyer, "has turned him out of his room, and he now persists in haunting the building generally, sitting upon the banisters of the stairs by day, and sleeping in the entry by night. Every body is concerned; clients are leaving the offices; some fears are entertained of a mob; something you must do, and that without delay."Aghast at this torrent, I fell back before it, and would fain have locked myself in my new quarters. In vain I persisted that Bartleby was nothing to me—no more than to any one else. In vain:—I was the last person known to have any thing to do with him, and they held me to the terrible account. Fearful then of being exposed in the papers (as one person present obscurely threatened) I considered the matter, and at length said, that if the lawyer would give me a confidential interview with the scrivener, in his (the lawyer's) own room, I would that afternoon strive my best to rid them of the nuisance they complained of.Going up stairs to my old haunt, there was Bartleby silently sitting upon the banister at the landing."What are you doing here, Bartleby?" said I."Sitting upon the banister," he mildly replied.I motioned him into the lawyer's room, who then left us."Bartleby," said I, "are you aware that you are the cause of great tribulation to me, by persisting in occupying the entry after being dismissed from the office?"No answer."Now one of two things must take place. Either you must do something, or something must be done to you. Now what sort of business would you like to engage in? Would you like to re-engage in copying for some one?""No; I would prefer not to make any change.""Would you like a clerkship in a dry-goods store?""There is too much confinement about that. No, I would not like a clerkship; but I am not particular.""Too much confinement," I cried, "why you keep yourself confined all the time!""I would prefer not to take a clerkship," he rejoined, as if to settle that little item at once."How would a bar-tender's business suit you? There is no trying of the eyesight in that.""I would not like it at all; though, as I said before, I am not particular."His unwonted wordiness inspirited me. I returned to the charge."Well then, would you like to travel through the country collecting bills for the merchants? That would improve your health.""No, I would prefer to be doing something else.""How then would going as a companion to Europe, to entertain some young gentleman with your conversation,—how would that suit you?""Not at all. It does not strike me that there is any thing definite about that. I like to be stationary. But I am not particular.""Stationary you shall be then," I cried, now losing all patience, and for the first time in all my exasperating connection with him fairly flying into a passion. "If you do not go away from these premises before night, I shall feel bound—indeed I am bound—to—to—to quit the premises myself!" I rather absurdly concluded, knowing not with what possible threat to try to frighten his immobility into compliance. Despairing of all further efforts, I was precipitately leaving him, when a final thought occurred to me—one which had not been wholly unindulged before."Bartleby," said I, in the kindest tone I could assume under such exciting circumstances, "will you go home with me now—not to my office, but my dwelling—and remain there till we can conclude upon some convenient arrangement for you at our leisure? Come, let us start now, right away.""No: at present I would prefer not to make any change at all."I answered nothing; but effectually dodging every one by the suddenness and rapidity of my flight, rushed from the building, ran up Wall-street towards Broadway, and jumping into the first omnibus was soon removed from pursuit. As soon as tranquility returned I distinctly perceived that I had now done all that I possibly could, both in respect to the demands of the landlord and his tenants, and with regard to my own desire and sense of duty, to benefit Bartleby, and shield him from rude persecution. I now strove to be entirely care-free and quiescent; and my conscience justified me in the attempt; though indeed it was not so successful as I could have wished. So fearful was I of being again hunted out by the incensed landlord and his exasperated tenants, that, surrendering my business to Nippers, for a few days I drove about the upper part of the town and through the suburbs, in my rockaway; crossed over to Jersey City and Hoboken, and paid fugitive visits to Manhattanville and Astoria. In fact I almost lived in my rockaway for the time.When again I entered my office, lo, a note from the landlord lay upon the desk. I opened it with trembling hands. It informed me that the writer had sent to the police, and had Bartleby removed to the Tombs as a vagrant. Moreover, since I knew more about him than any one else, he wished me to appear at that place, and make a suitable statement of the facts. These tidings had a conflicting effect upon me. At first I was indignant; but at last almost approved. The landlord's energetic, summary disposition had led him to adopt a procedure which I do not think I would have decided upon myself; and yet as a last resort, under such peculiar circumstances, it seemed the only plan.As I afterwards learned, the poor scrivener, when told that he must be conducted to the Tombs, offered not the slightest obstacle, but in his pale unmoving way, silently acquiesced.Some of the compassionate and curious bystanders joined the party; and headed by one of the constables arm in arm with Bartleby, the silent procession filed its way through all the noise, and heat, and joy of the roaring thoroughfares at noon.The same day I received the note I went to the Tombs, or to speak more properly, the Halls of Justice. Seeking the right officer, I stated the purpose of my call, and was informed that the individual I described was indeed within. I then assured the functionary that Bartleby was a perfectly honest man, and greatly to be compassionated, however unaccountably eccentric. I narrated all I knew, and closed by suggesting the idea of letting him remain in as indulgent confinement as possible till something less harsh might be done—though indeed I hardly knew what. At all events, if nothing else could be decided upon, the alms-house must receive him. I then begged to have an interview.Being under no disgraceful charge, and quite serene and harmless in all his ways, they had permitted him freely to wander about the prison, and especially in the inclosed grass-platted yard thereof. And so I found him there, standing all alone in the quietest of the yards, his face towards a high wall, while all around, from the narrow slits of the jail windows, I thought I saw peering out upon him the eyes of murderers and thieves."Bartleby!""I know you," he said, without looking round,—"and I want nothing to say to you.""It was not I that brought you here, Bartleby," said I, keenly pained at his implied suspicion. "And to you, this should not be so vile a place. Nothing reproachful attaches to you by being here. And see, it is not so sad a place as one might think. Look, there is the sky, and here is the grass.""I know where I am," he replied, but would say nothing more, and so I left him.As I entered the corridor again, a broad meat-like man, in an apron, accosted me, and jerking his thumb over his shoulder said—"Is that your friend?""Yes.""Does he want to starve? If he does, let him live on the prison fare, that's all.""Who are you?" asked I, not knowing what to make of such an unofficially speaking person in such a place."I am the grub-man. Such gentlemen as have friends here, hire me to provide them with something good to eat.""Is this so?" said I, turning to the turnkey.He said it was."Well then," said I, slipping some silver into the grub-man's hands (for so they called him). "I want you to give particular attention to my friend there; let him have the best dinner you can get. And you must be as polite to him as possible.""Introduce me, will you?" said the grub-man, looking at me with an expression which seem to say he was all impatience for an opportunity to give a specimen of his breeding.Thinking it would prove of benefit to the scrivener, I acquiesced; and asking the grub-man his name, went up with him to Bartleby."Bartleby, this is Mr. Cutlets; you will find him very useful to you.""Your sarvant, sir, your sarvant," said the grub-man, making a low salutation behind his apron. "Hope you find it pleasant here, sir;—spacious grounds—cool apartments, sir—hope you'll stay with us some time—try to make it agreeable. May Mrs. Cutlets and I have the pleasure of your company to dinner, sir, in Mrs. Cutlets' private room?""I prefer not to dine to-day," said Bartleby, turning away. "It would disagree with me; I am unused to dinners." So saying he slowly moved to the other side of the inclosure, and took up a position fronting the dead-wall."How's this?" said the grub-man, addressing me with a stare of astonishment. "He's odd, aint he?""I think he is a little deranged," said I, sadly."Deranged? deranged is it? Well now, upon my word, I thought that friend of yourn was a gentleman forger; they are always pale and genteel-like, them forgers. I can't pity'em—can't help it, sir. Did you know Monroe Edwards?" he added touchingly, and paused. Then, laying his hand pityingly on my shoulder, sighed, "he died of consumption at Sing-Sing. So you weren't acquainted with Monroe?""No, I was never socially acquainted with any forgers. But I cannot stop longer. Look to my friend yonder. You will not lose by it. I will see you again."Some few days after this, I again obtained admission to the Tombs, and went through the corridors in quest of Bartleby; but without finding him."I saw him coming from his cell not long ago," said a turnkey, "may be he's gone to loiter in the yards."So I went in that direction."Are you looking for the silent man?" said another turnkey passing me. "Yonder he lies—sleeping in the yard there. 'Tis not twenty minutes since I saw him lie down."The yard was entirely quiet. It was not accessible to the common prisoners. The surrounding walls, of amazing thickness, kept off all sounds behind them. The Egyptian character of the masonry weighed upon me with its gloom. But a soft imprisoned turf grew under foot. The heart of the eternal pyramids, it seemed, wherein, by some strange magic, through the clefts, grass-seed, dropped by birds, had sprung.Strangely huddled at the base of the wall, his knees drawn up, and lying on his side, his head touching the cold stones, I saw the wasted Bartleby. But nothing stirred. I paused; then went close up to him; stooped over, and saw that his dim eyes were open; otherwise he seemed profoundly sleeping. Something prompted me to touch him. I felt his hand, when a tingling shiver ran up my arm and down my spine to my feet.The round face of the grub-man peered upon me now. "His dinner is ready. Won't he dine to-day, either? Or does he live without dining?""Lives without dining," said I, and closed his eyes."Eh!—He's asleep, aint he?""With kings and counselors," murmured I.* * * * * * * *There would seem little need for proceeding further in this history. Imagination will readily supply the meager recital of poor Bartleby's interment. But ere parting with the reader, let me say, that if this little narrative has sufficiently interested him, to awaken curiosity as to who Bartleby was, and what manner of life he led prior to the present narrator's making his acquaintance, I can only reply, that in such curiosity I fully share, but am wholly unable to gratify it. Yet here I hardly know whether I should divulge one little item of rumor, which came to my ear a few months after the scrivener's decease. Upon what basis it rested, I could never ascertain; and hence, how true it is I cannot now tell. But inasmuch as this vague report has not been without certain strange suggestive interest to me, however sad, it may prove the same with some others; and so I will briefly mention it. The report was this: that Bartleby had been a subordinate clerk in the Dead Letter Office at Washington, from which he had been suddenly removed by a change in the administration. When I think over this rumor, I cannot adequately express the emotions which seize me. Dead letters! does it not sound like dead men? Conceive a man by nature and misfortune prone to a pallid hopelessness, can any business seem more fitted to heighten it than that of continually handling these dead letters, and assorting them for the flames? For by the cart-load they are annually burned. Sometimes from out the folded paper the pale clerk takes a ring:—the finger it was meant for, perhaps, moulders in the grave; a bank-note sent in swiftest charity:—he whom it would relieve, nor eats nor hungers any more; pardon for those who died despairing; hope for those who died unhoping; good tidings for those who died stifled by unrelieved calamities. On errands of life, these letters speed to death.Ah Bartleby! Ah humanity! End of Project Gutenberg's Bartleby, The Scrivener, by Herman Melville*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BARTLEBY, THE SCRIVENER ***This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net 

本文选自康德《历史理性批判文集》，何兆武译，北京商务印书馆1991。  简介：康德是18世纪启蒙运动集之大成者，其“批判哲学”奠定了现代哲学的基础，划定科学、道德与美学的界限。本文尝试回答何谓启蒙，并说明启蒙与“公开使用自由”（即言论自由、学术自由）的关联。  启蒙就是人从他自己造成的未成年状态中走出。未成年状态就是没有他人的指导就不能使用自己的知性。要有勇气运用你自己的理智！这就是启蒙运动的口号。  启蒙运动就是人类脱离自己所加之于自己的不成熟状态，不成熟状态就是不经别人的引导，就对运用自己的理智无能为力。当其原因不在于缺乏理智，而在于不经别人的引导就缺乏勇气与决心去加以运用时，那么这种不成熟状态就是自己所加之于自己的了。Sapere aude！①要有勇气运用你自己的理智！这就是启蒙运动②的口号。  懒惰和怯懦乃是何以有如此大量的人，当大自然早己把他们从外界的引导之下释放出来以后（naturaliter maiorennes）③时，却仍然愿意终身处于不成熟状态之中，以及别人何以那么轻而易举地就俨然以他们的保护人自居的原因所在。处于不成熟状态是那么安逸。如果我有一部书能替我有理解，有一位牧师能替我有良心，有一位医生能替我规定食谱，等等；那么我自己就用不着操心了。只要能对我合算，我就无需去思想：自有别人会替我去做这类伤脑筋的事。  绝大部分的人（其中包括全部的女性）都把步入成熟状态认为除了是非常之艰辛而外并且还是非常之危险的；这一点老早就被每一个一片好心在从事监护他们的保护人关注到了。保护人首先是使他们的牲口愚蠢，并且小心提防着这些温驯的畜牲不要竟敢冒险从锁着他们的摇车里面迈出一步；然后就向他们指出他们企图单独行走时会威胁他们的那种危险。可是这种危险实际上并不那么大，因为他们跌过几交之后就终于能学会走路的；然而只要有过一次这类事例，就会使人心惊胆战并且往往吓得完全不敢再去尝试了。  任何一个个人要从几乎已经成为自己天性的那种不成熟状态之中奋斗出来，都是很艰难的。他甚至于已经爱好它了，并且确实暂时还不能运用他自己的理智，因为人们从来都不允许他去做这种尝试。条例和公式这类他那天分的合理运用、或者不如说误用的机械产物，就是对终古长存的不成熟状态的一副脚梏。谁要是抛开它，也就不过是在极狭窄的沟渠上做了一次不可靠的跳跃而己，因为他并不习惯于这类自由的运动。因此就只有很少数的人才能通过自己精神的奋斗而摆脱不成熟的状态，并且从而迈出切实的步伐来。  然而公众要启蒙自己，却是很可能的；只要允许他们自由，这还确实几乎是无可避免的。因为哪怕是在为广大人群所设立的保护者们中间，也总会发见一些有独立思想的人；他们自己在抛却了不成熟状态的羁绊之后，就会传播合理地估计自己的价值以及每个人的本分就在于思想其自身的那种精神。这里面特别值得注意的是：公众本来是被他们套上了这种羁绊的，但当他们的保护者（其本身是不可能有任何启蒙的）中竟有一些人鼓动他们的时候，此后却强迫保护者们自身也处于其中了；种下偏见是那么有害，因为他们终于报复了本来是他们的教唆者或者是他们教唆者的先行者的那些人。因而公众只能是很缓慢地获得启蒙。通过一场革命或许很可以实现推翻个人专制以及贪婪心和权势欲的压迫，但却绝不能实现思想方式的真正改革；而新的偏见也正如旧的一样，将会成为驾驭缺少思想的广大人群的圈套。  然而，这一启蒙运动除了自由而外并不需要任何别的东西，而且还确乎是一切可以称之为自由的东西之中最无害的东西，那就是在一切事情上都有公开运用自己理性的自由。④可是我却听到从四面八方都发出这样的叫喊：不许争辩！军官说：不许争辩，只许操练！税吏说：不许争辩，只许纳税。神甫说：不许争辩，只许信仰。（举世只有一位君主⑤说：可以争辩，随便争多少，随便争什么，但是要听话！君主指普鲁士腓德烈大王）到处都有对自由的限制。  然则，哪些限制是有碍启蒙的，哪些不是，反而是足以促进它的呢？--我回答说：必须永远有公开运用自己理性的自由，并且唯有它才能带来人类的启蒙。私下运用自己的理性往往会被限制得很狭隘，虽则不致因此而特别妨碍启蒙运动的进步。而我所理解的对自己理性的公开运用，则是指任何人作为学者在全部听众面前所能做的那种运用。一个人在其所受任的一定公职岗位或者职务上所能运用的自己的理性，我就称之为私下的运用。  就涉及共同体利益的许多事物而言，则我们必须有一定的机器，共同体的一些成员必须靠它来保持纯粹的消极态度，以便他们由于一种人为的一致性而由政府引向公共的目的，或者至少也是防止破坏这一目的。在这上面确实是不容许有争辩的；而是人们必须服从。但是就该机器的这一部分同时也作为整个共同体的，乃至于作为世界公民社会的成员而论，从而也就是以一个学者的资格通过写作面向严格意义上的公众时，则他是绝对可以争辩的，而不致因此就有损于他作为一个消极的成员所从事的那种事业。因此，一个服役的军官在接受他的上级交下某项命令肘，竟抗声争辩这项命令的合目的性或者有用性，那就会非常坏事；他必须服从。但是他作为学者而对军事业务上的错误进行评论并把它提交给公众来作判断时，就不能公开地加以禁止了。公民不能拒绝缴纳规定于他的税额；对所加给他的这类赋税惹事生非地擅行责难，甚至可以当作诽谤（这可能引起普遍的反抗）而加以惩处。然而这同一个人作为一个学者公开发表自己的见解，抗议这种课税的不适宜与不正当不一样，他的行动并没有违背公民的义务。同样地，一个牧师也有义务按照他所服务的那个教会的教义向他的教义问答班上的学生们和他的会众们作报告，因为他是根据这一条件才被批准的。但是作为一个学者，他却有充分自由、甚至于有责任，把他经过深思熟虑有关那种教义的缺点的全部善意的意见以及关于更好地组织宗教团体和教会团体的建议传达给公众。这里面并没有任何可以给他的良心增添负担的东西。因为他把作为一个教会工作者由于自己职务的关系而讲授的东西，当作是某种他自己并没有自由的权力可以按照自己的心意进行讲授的东西；他是受命根据别人的指示并以别人的名义选行讲述的。他将要说：我们的教会教导这些或那些；这里就是他们所引用的论据。于是，他就从他自己不会以完全的信服而赞同、虽则他很可以使自己负责进行宣讲的那些条文中--因为并非是完全不可能其中也隐藏着真理，而且无论如何至少其中不会发见有任何与内心宗教相违背的东西，--为他的听众引绎出全部的实用价值来。因为如果他相信其中可以发见任何与内心宗教相违背的东西，那么他就不能根据良心而尽自己的职务了，他就必须辞职。一个就任的宣教师之向他的会众运用自己的理性，纯粹是一种私下的运用；因为那往往只是一种家庭式的聚会，不管是多大的聚会；而在这方面他作为一个牧师是并不自由的，而且也不能是自由的，因为他是在传达别人的委托。反之，作为一个学者通过自己的著作而向真正的公众亦即向全世界讲话时，则牧师在公开运用他的理性上便享有无限的自由可以使用他自己的理性，并以他自己本人的名义发言。因为人民（在精神事务上）的保护者而其本身居然也不成熟，那便可以归结为一种荒谬性，一种永世长存的荒谬性了。  然则一种牧师团体、一种教会会议或者一种可敬的教门法院（就象他们在荷兰人中间所自称的那样），是不是有权宣誓他们自己之间对某种不变的教义负有义务，以便对其每一个成员并且由此也就是对全体人民进行永不中辍的监护，甚至于使之永恒化呢？我要说：这是完全不可能的。这样一项向人类永远封锁住了任何进一步启蒙的契约乃是绝对无效的，哪怕它被最高权力、被国会和最庄严的和平条约所确认。一个时代决不能使自己负有义务并从而发誓，要把后来的时代置于一种决没有可能扩大自己的（尤其是十分迫切的）认识、清除错误以及一般地在启蒙中继续进步的状态之中。这会是一种违反人性的犯罪行为，人性本来的天职恰好就在于这种进步；因此后世就完全有权拒绝这种以毫无根据而且是犯罪的方式所采取的规定。  凡是一个民族可以总结为法律的任何东西，其试金石都在于这样一个问题：一个民族是不是可以把这样一种法律加之于其自身？它可能在一个有限的短时期之内就好像是在期待着另一种更好的似的，为的是好实行一种制度，使得每一个公民而尤其是牧师都能有自由以学者的身份公开地，也就是通过著作，对现行组织的缺点发表自己的言论。这种新实行的制度将要一直延续下去，直到对这类事情性质的洞见已经是那么公开地到来并且得到了证实，以致于通过他们联合（即使是并不一致）的呼声而可以向王位提出建议，以便对这一依据他们更好的洞见的概念而结合成另一种已经改变了的宗教组织加以保护，而又不致于妨碍那些仍愿保留在旧组织之中的人们。但是统一成一个固定不变的、没有人能够（哪怕在一个人的整个一生中）公开加以怀疑的宗教体制，从而也就犹如消灭了人类朝着改善前进的整整一个时代那样，并由此给后代造成损害，使得他们毫无收获，--这却是绝对不能容许的。一个人确实可以为了他本人并且也只是在一段时间之内，推迟对自己有义务加以认识的事物的启蒙；然而径行放弃它，那就无论是对他本人，而更其是对于后代，都可以说是违反而且践踏人类的神圣权利⑥了。  而人民对于他们本身都不能规定的事，一个君主就更加不可以对他的人民规定了；因为他的立法威望全靠他把全体人民的意志结合为他自己的意志。只要他注意使一切真正的或号称的改善都与公民秩序结合在一起，那么此外他就可以把他的臣民发觉对自己灵魂得教所必须做的事情留给他们自己去做；这与他无关，虽则他必须防范任何人以强力妨碍别人根据自己的全部才能去做出这种决定并促进这种得救。如果他干预这种事，要以政府的监督来评判他的臣民借以亮明他们自己的见识的那些作品；以及如他凭自己的最高观点来这样做，而使自己受到"Caesar non estt supra grammaticos"⑦（凯撒并不高于文法学家）的这种责难；那就会有损于他的威严。如果他把自己的最高权力降低到竟至去支持自己国内的一些暴君对他其余的臣民实行精神专制主义的时候，那就更加每况愈下了。  如果现在有人问："我们目前是不是生活在一个启蒙了的时代？"那么回答就是："并不是，但确实是在一个启蒙运动的时代"。⑧目前的情形是，要说人类总的说来已经处于，或者是仅仅说已经被置于，一种不需别人引导就能够在宗教的事情上确切地而又很好地使用自己的理智的状态了，则那里面还缺乏许多东西。可是现在领域已经对他们开放了，他们可以自由地在这上面工作了，而且对普遍启蒙的、或者说对摆脱自己所加给自己的不成熟状态的障碍也逐渐地减少了；关于这些我们都有着明确的信号。就这方面考虑，这个时代乃是启蒙的时代，或者说乃是腓德烈⑨的世纪。  一个不以如下说法为与自己不相称的国君：他认为自己的义务就是要在宗教事务方面决不对人们加以任何规定，而是让他们有充分的自由，但他又甚至谢绝宽容这个高傲的名称；这位国君本人就是启蒙了的⑩，并且配得上被天下后世满怀感激之情尊之为率先使得人类，至少从政权方面而言，脱离了不成熟状态，并使每个人在任何有关良心的事务上都能自由地运用自身所固有的理性。在他的治下，可敬的牧师们可以以学者的身份自由地并且公开地把自己在这里或那里偏离了既定教义的各种判断和见解都提供给全世界来检验，而又无损于自己的职责：至于另外那些不受任何职责约束的人，那就更加是如此了。这种自由精神也要向外扩展，甚至于扩展到必然会和误解了其自身的那种政权这一外部阻碍发生冲突的地步。因为它对这种政权树立了一个范例，即自由并不是一点也不关怀公共的安宁和共同体的团结一致的。只有当人们不再有意地想方设法要把人类保持在野蛮状态的时候，人类才会由于自己的努力而使自己从其中慢慢地走出来。  我把启蒙运动的重点，亦即人类摆脱他们所加之于其自身的不成熟状态，主要是放在宗教事务方面，因为我们的统治者在艺术和科学方面并没有向他们的臣民尽监护之责的兴趣；何况这一不成熟状态既是一切之中最有害的而又是最可耻的一种。但是，一个庇护艺术与科学的国家首领，他的思想方式就要更进一步了，他洞察到：即使是在他的立法方面，容许他的臣民公开运用他们自身的理性，公开向世上提出他们对于更好地编篡法律、甚至于是直言无讳地批评现行法律的各种见解，那也不会有危险的。在这方面，我们有着一个光辉的典范，我们所尊敬的这位君主（指普鲁士腓德烈大王）⑾就是没有别的君主能够超越的。  但是只有那位其本身是启蒙了的、不怕幽灵的而同时手中又掌握着训练精良的大量军队可以保障公共安宁的君主，才能够说出一个自由国家所不敢说的这种话：可以争辩，随便争多少，随便争什么；但是必须听话。这就标志着人间事务的一种可惊异的、不能意料的进程；正犹如当我们对它从整体上加以观察时，其中就几乎一切都是悖论那样。程度更大的公民自由仿佛是有利于人民精神的自由似的，然而它却设下了不可逾越的限度；反之，程度较小的公民自由却为每个人发挥自己的才能开辟了余地。因为当大自然在这种坚硬的外壳之下打开了为她所极为精心照料着的幼芽时，也就是要求思想自由的倾向与任务时，它也就要逐步地反作用于人民的心灵面貌（从而他们慢慢地就能掌握自由）；并且终于还会反作用于政权原则，使之发见按照人的尊严--人并不仅仅是机器而已⑿--去看待人，也是有利于政权本身的。⒀  1784年9月30日，于普鲁士哥尼斯堡  本文选自康德《历史理性批判文集》，何兆武译，商务印书馆，1996年  注：  ①[要敢于认识!]语出罗马诗人贺拉斯(公元前65-8)《诗论》。——译注  ②按启蒙运动(Aufklarung)亦称“启蒙时代”或“理性时代”；这篇为当时的启蒙运动进行辩护的文章，发表在当时德国启蒙运动的主要刊物《柏林月刊》上。——译注  ③[由于自然方式而成熟]。——译注  ④ 此处“公开运用自己理性的自由”即指言论自由。康德在这个问题上曾和当时普鲁士官方的检查制度发生冲突。——译注  ⑤指普鲁士腓德烈大王(FrederickⅡ，der Grosse，1740-1786)。——译注  ⑥按“权利”一词原文为Recht；此词相当于法文的droit，英文的right，中文的“权利”、“权”、“法律”、“法”或“正义”。一般或译作“法”，下同。——译注  ⑦[凯撒并不高于文法学家]按，此处这句话可能是针对传说中普鲁士的腓德烈大王回答伏尔泰(Voltaire， 1718-1778)的一句话：“凯撒高于文法学家。”又，传说神圣罗马帝国皇帝西吉斯蒙(Sigismund，1411-1437)在 1414年的康斯坦司会议上说过：“我是罗马皇帝并且高于文法学家。”——译注  ⑧康德《纯粹理性批判》第1版序言：“我们的时代特别是一个批判的时代，一切事物都必须接受批判。”——译注  ⑨指普鲁士腓德烈大王。——译注  ⑩“启蒙了的”即“开明的”。——译注  ⑾指普鲁士腓德烈大王。——译注  ⑿“人并不仅仅是机器而已”这一命题为针对拉梅特利(Julien Offray de La Mettrie，1709-1751)《人是机器》 (1748年)的反题。——译注  ⒀今天我在9月13日的《布兴每周通讯》(布兴，Anton Friedrich Buching，1724-1793，地理学家，格廷根大学教授，当时主编《地图、地理、统计与历史新书每周通讯》。——译注)上读到本月30日《柏林月刊》的预告，其中介绍了门德尔松先生(Moses Mendelsohn，1726-1786，德国启蒙运动哲学家，《论“什么叫作启蒙运动”这一问题》一文刊载于《柏林月刊》1784年第4卷第9期，康德本文刊载于该刊同年同卷第12期。康德撰写本文时尚未读到门德尔松的文章，所以只在本文末尾附加了这条注释。——译注)对于本问题的答复。我手头尚未收到该刊，否则就会扣发本文了。现在本文就只在于检验一下偶然性究竟在多大程度上能带来两个人的思想一致。 

魯迅公認是中國現代文學最偉大的作家，具有廣泛的國際聲譽。但是，要向台灣讀者介紹魯迅的成就卻異常的艱難，他的作品在台灣遭到嚴厲禁讀長達三十七年之久。對台灣文化界來說，魯迅目前還是一個頗為陌生的領域，沒有什麼可以談論的基礎。 　　 　　台灣文學界所謂的專家，主要受夏志清影響，對魯迅還有一種難以破除的偏見。他們從「形式」著眼，認為魯迅只寫了兩本短篇小說集，也不過就二十五篇，一部長篇也沒有；此外還有一本散文集《朝花夕拾》、一本散文詩集《野草》，就說這些作品裡有不少精品、傑作，哪能就算是大作家呢？何況還要稱他「偉大」或「巨人」？這不過都是共產黨的造神運動的成果罷了。在他們眼中，魯迅的十四本雜文集根本不算什麼。 　　 　　大陸有一種知識分子恰好有相反的看法。他們認為，是共產黨利用了魯迅在文化界的廣泛聲譽，並且在解釋上把魯迅狹窄化了。魯迅的精神遠遠超過共產黨的教條，而且可以反過來反對共產黨的教條。 　　 　　對我的魯迅觀產生重大衝擊的，還有來自日本學者的觀點。從竹內好以降的魯迅專家，包括丸山昇、木山英雄、伊藤虎丸、丸尾常喜等人，談起魯迅來，幾乎是畢恭畢敬，好像面對一位現代的東方聖人。 　　 　　那麼，要怎麼樣說明魯迅作為一個作家的獨特品質呢？我想先從自己的閱讀經驗談起。1970年代，我曾偷偷影印了一本相當份量的魯迅雜文選集，卻並沒有帶來多少閱讀的樂趣，有一些篇章還似懂非懂。九○年代初我買到魯迅全集，不久之後，我陷入一種精神困境中，主要因為我的政治立場在台灣成為絕對少數。這時候，我才發現魯迅的作品成為我最大的安慰之一。魯迅的某些作品充滿了絕望，讀的時候引發自己強烈的共鳴。這我早已很清楚，因為魯迅的陰暗面是眾所公認的。然而，奇怪的是，這樣的文學並不導致全然的悲觀，並不使我喪氣，以至於失去了鬥志。相反，閱讀時感到一種絕望的快感，讀了以後卻能慢慢的堅韌起來。這是一種非常奇異的感受。你很難想像，「絕望之為虛妄，正與希望相同」這樣的句子會產生啟示作用，讓你更勇敢的面對現實。我認為，從活著的人的角度來看，魯迅的作品讓我們領會到，不論面對如何的艱難，你都不可以自欺，以為自己已忍受不了，沒那麼回事。說自己忍受不了，那是弱者的行為。汪暉一本論魯迅的專書，書名叫《反抗絕望》，這書名起得很好，我以為，就人生態度而言，「反抗絕望」正是魯迅精神對人的啟示之處。 　　 　　以上是就個人的命運而言，但魯迅絕不只是關心個人命運的作家。魯迅去世的時候，就被稱為「民族魂」，他是中國面對亡國之禍時最堅韌的戰士。這看起來很奇怪，最悲觀的作家怎麼會成為最堅韌的戰士？ 　　 　　讀魯迅的小說，開始你會感到陰冷。譬如祥林嫂，那麼一個健康而勤快的農婦，怎麼會在習俗的偏見與眾人的冷酷之中淪為乞丐，最後死得不明不白。在〈藥〉裡，一個愛國志士為國犧牲的鮮血，卻被患肺癆病的人蘸到饅頭上拿來當祕方吃。一個農村無產者的阿Q，其實是很有勞動能力的，卻在眾人的藐視和自己的自欺之中莫名其妙的成為別人的替死鬼。看起來中國社會已完全缺乏人性，只會把活活的人變成殭屍，連一點「生」的氣息都沒有。 　　 　　魯迅就像其他新文化運動的領導人一樣，不憚以最犀利的筆觸揭發中國文化的陰冷而缺乏人性的一面。但魯迅卻還是一個最熾熱的愛國者，這看起來是相當矛盾的。 　　 　　如果拿胡適和周作人來跟魯迅比，就可以看出魯迅的偉大。胡適極其單純的嚮往西方文化（特別是美國文化）的一切，認為只要承認自己一切不如人，只要好好的跟人家學習，中國就有救。周作人跟魯迅一樣，對中國傳統社會徹底絕望，以至於完全喪失了民族自信心，最後竟然不認為抵抗會產生什麼作用，寧可當侵略者的順民而不肯有一絲一毫的自我犧牲。 　　 　　魯迅還有一點跟許多愛國之士非常不一樣，他很少批評外國侵略者，而只批評自己的民族。並不是說，他絲毫不具備對侵略者的痛恨，這一點他絲毫不弱於人。但民族的恥辱感更讓他痛心。他似乎認為，與其痛恨別人，不如痛恨自己──與其痛恨常常欺凌自己的強者，不如痛恨自己為什麼始終是「孱頭」、「歪種」。魯迅痛恨自己民族的不長進，具有一種熱騰騰的血氣，他知道，只有這種血氣凝結成一種百折不回的鬥志，中國才能找到重生之道。只會欣羨人家，只會藐視自己，最後就是自輕自賤，向強者低頭。 　　 　　魯迅勸中國青年，「要少──或者竟不──看中國書」，「少看中國書，其結果不過不能作文而已。但現在青年最要緊的是『行』而不是『言』。只要是活人，不能作文算什麼大不了的事。」在最惡劣的環境下，勇敢的面對現實，確確實實的「活」著，不自欺，魯迅認為是頭等大事。只怪罪別人欺凌自己，或者一直扛著祖宗的神主牌來自我炫耀，自我滿足，都是標準的阿Q，不是自救之道。 　　 　　魯迅同時倡導「拿來主義」，外國的一切東西都可以拿過來，這不是說，外國東西一切都好，拿來就用，而是「要或使用，或存放，或毀滅」，要使自己成為這些東西的「新主人」，而不是成為這些外國東西的奴隸，什麼都好，什麼都跟。要「沉著、勇猛，有辨別，不自私」，這樣才能成為外國東西的「新主人」，也才能使自己成為「新人」。 　　 　　簡單的說，魯迅既不要中國青年成為祖宗的奴隸，也不要中國青年成為外國東西的奴隸。一個民族跌到了深淵，如果不能勇敢的站立起來，再怎麼祈求祖宗的保佑，再怎麼痛罵侵略者的沒有人性，都是沒有用的。一切只能靠自己。這就是魯迅的血氣，因此他不憚於以最嚴苛的態度自我批評，他的自我批評絕不是自我輕賤，為的是拜倒於外國侵略者的腳下，像周作人那樣；或者像現在某些中國知識分子一樣，竟然認為中國只有讓外國徹底殖民，才能現代化。 　　 　　就因為看到了這一點，中國人才會說，魯迅一身沒有媚骨，或者魯迅一身都是傲骨。是這種傲骨，使得中國人能夠從萬劫不復中重生。縱觀中國現代文學，魯迅這種精神對中國青年起了最大的啟示作用，而且沒人能夠跟他比肩，因此他成為中國現代文學唯一的宗師。 　　 　　。 　　 　　 　　戰敗的日本人驚異於中國人終於「站起來了」，才恍然醒悟魯迅的偉大。魯迅表面強烈的自我批判精神，其實正是對西方文明最堅強的抵抗，他的拿來主義最終證明，中國可以找到一條特異的自救之道。相反的，日本人表面上是西方的模範生，最終只不過成為西方的模仿品，連它的「大東亞共榮圈」，也不過是西方殖民帝國主義拙劣的二等貨。最令人不堪的是，它竟成了它最主要的敵人美國在亞洲的伙伴，成為美國在亞洲的「大管家」。「脫亞入歐」的結果是，日本成為美國最重要的伙伴，但誰都知道，誰才是真正的主人。 　　 　　魯迅坎坷的一生也是他始終艱苦奮鬥的一生，他的痛苦與他的勇於戰鬥，終於證明了他不凡的智慧。中國終於重新站立於世界之中，他有一份不容抹煞的貢獻，這就是他的偉大成就之一。 　　 　　但魯迅也絕不只是一個狹隘的民族主義者，他一生的許多行為和全部作品都可以作為證明。在他決心從事於文學之初，他從翻譯外國文學作品起步。他翻譯的重點是東歐弱小民族的文學，而不是居於世界文學潮流之首的西歐文學。一方面，他認為，同屬被壓迫、被侵略的民族，它們的文學才跟中國有切身的關係，一方面他廣泛同情世界上所有被壓迫民族的民眾。 　　 　　弱國民族主義的基礎是，在帝國主義的侵略下，絕大部分弱小的民眾都陷入深淵之中，只有少數掌握政治、經濟大權的人才可能跟侵略者合作而從中奪取更大利益，這一點魯迅是非常清楚的。魯迅在小說中不論把中國的農民描寫得多麼愚昧，卻永遠不失同情之心。就像那個被他從頭到尾嘲笑的阿Q，因為他始終被人所欺凌，魯迅還是同情的。這篇小說翻譯成法文，羅曼．羅蘭（Romain Rolland, 1866-1944）讀了以後非常感動，因為羅曼．羅蘭領會到了魯迅對弱小者的憐憫。捷克的普實克（Jaroslav Prusek, 1906-1980）也能感受到魯迅作品中的這種情懷，不久就譯成了捷克文出版。當他跟魯迅談到版稅時，魯迅回答，人家翻譯他的作品，他向來是不拿版稅的。魯迅的文學事業是全世界性的，是屬於被侵略民族的人民大眾共同攜手反抗帝國主義侵略者這一大事業中的一環，這一點魯迅也是很清楚的。 　　 　　西方近代文明的輝煌成就是不容否認的，但西方國家挾帶著這種文明的力量，肆意侵占人家的土地（最高紀錄是地球陸地的83%）、奴隸人家的民眾、掠奪人家的資源，由此所造成的有史以來人類最大的災難，這一點，西方國家從來不肯承認，即使西方開明、進步的知識分子，也沒有多少人敢於正視。當我們談論世界近、現代文學，從西方的觀點談論它的成就，或者從非西方觀點來談論它的成就，其結果是完全不一樣的。當西方國家開始向世界各地進行掠奪時，世界各地的民眾從來就沒有停止反抗過，而反抗行動中就包含了反抗的文學。 　　 　　如果我們把眼光放在西方近代資本主義帝國主義興起後，全世界的民眾如何反抗他們、這些反抗如何表現在文學上，那麼，我們就會有一種完全不同眼光的近、現代世界文學史。如果要撰寫這樣一部近、現代世界文學史，魯迅一定在其中據有顯著的地位。這是魯迅國際聲望的基礎，只是這種國際聲望遠遠不同於我們一直認同的、那種以西方為中心的國際聲望。作為近、現代被壓迫、被侵略民族反殖民抗爭的作家之一，魯迅的人格和他的作品贏得大家的尊敬和推崇，這才是魯迅最光輝的成就。 　　 　　不少人說，魯迅的作品，除了一些小說、幾篇散文和《野草》這本散文詩集，其餘都沒有什麼藝術性。這是完全站在現代主義興起以後西方的美學觀點下所說的話。我記得大陸小說家王安憶曾說：魯迅的小說是嘲諷性的，而他嘲諷的常是典型，因此這種小說必然寫得很少，為了不重複，每種典型他都只寫一次。這話說得極精準。我們只要把《吶喊》、《徬徨》中的二十五篇小說好好體會，就會知道，魯迅沒有寫過兩篇相同的小說，而他的每一篇小說都值得我們細細分析（日本學者就是這麼做的）。從這裡就可以看出魯迅的苦心經營。 　　 　　還有更多的人說，魯迅的雜文沒有藝術性，這純粹是誹謗，是為了抵消魯迅雜文的影響力而說的謊話。魯迅的雜文如果沒有藝術性，怎麼會影響千千萬萬的中國青年，而且至今還在產生影響。當我們不能用既成的美學規範來解釋這些作品的藝術性，而這些作品的影響力又那麼明顯，那是我們所據以判斷的美學標準有問題？還是什麼？我們只能說，魯迅創造了一種新文體，使得文學專家們拿著手中所有的衡量尺，卻一點也使不上力，這不反過來證明，魯迅具有極高的藝術獨創性嗎？ 　　 　　要表現一種前所未有的新的內容，就需要創造前所未有的新手段。魯迅站在全世界反殖民抗爭的大潮流中，為了戰鬥的需要，創造了人們至今尚不習慣的文學形式，但是影響力卻又那麼明顯，這不是魯迅的偉大成就，還能是什麼？

方塔纳：《性史》第一卷已经出版几年了。我知道，您最近出版的书使您碰上了一些问题和困难。我冒昧请您和我谈谈这些困难。　　福柯：困难出自这项计划本身，而我的计划本来恰恰是要避免这些困难的。我预先计划通过几大卷的篇幅来开展我的工作，我告诉自己，现在该是我可以毫无困难地开始写作的时候了，我只须把自己脑子里的想法展开，并用经验研究来加以验证就行了。　　写这些书的时候，我几乎厌倦透了：它们和早先那些书太相像了。对有些人来讲，写本书总是一次冒险，具体来说，是有可能完成不了。如果你事先就知道自己打算在什么地方结束，就会失去各个方面的经验，就是说，体验不到写一本也许完成不了的书时所感受到的冒险。所以我改变了整个计划：不再研究处在知识与权力边界上的性本性，而是努力再往回追得更远，找出对于主体本身来说，作为欲望的性本性的经验是如何构成的。我在努力指明这个问题域的时候，被迫去考察某些非常古老的拉丁文和希腊文的文本。这需要大量的准备，大量的努力，而我直到最后，也还留着许多不确定的东西和疑虑。　　方塔纳：在您的书中，总有某种读者经常难以捕捉的“意向性”。《癫狂史》其实是关于被视为心理学的那门知识的构成过程史；《词与物》是关于人的科学的考古学；《规训与惩罚》写的则是对身体和灵魂的纪律的安排。而在您新近的书里，作为核心的似乎是您称之为“真理游戏”的东西。　　福柯：我并不认为这些书和早先那些书之间有什么大的不同。当你写像这样的书的时候，非常想全盘改变自己的想法，让自己在结束的时候完全不同于开始时的自己。写完后，你会发现，其实相对来说，你已经改变得很少。你也许已经改变了自己的观点，但还是在原来的问题上纠缠不休，就是说，还是主体、真理和经验的构成之间的关系问题。我已经尝试分析了像癫狂、性本性和越轨这样的领域，是如何会进入某种真理游戏，以及通过人的实践或行为纳入真理游戏，主体自身是怎样受到影响的。这就是癫狂史和性史的问题所在。　　方塔纳：这难道不会导向一种新的道德谱系学吗？　　福柯：由于尼采的影响，这个词的特点是过于宏大，作为标题也很庄重，尽管如此，我还是要说是这样。　　方塔纳：在1983年11月LeDébat上的一篇文章里，您结合古代（Antiquity），谈论了伦理取向的道德和准则取向的道德。这种区分是不是等同于希腊罗马道德和那些随基督教一起出现的道德之间的区分？　　福柯：伴随着基督教的出现，古代的道德也发生了缓慢而逐步的转变，而后者本质上就是一种实践，一种自由的风格。当然，早就有某些行为规范，治理着每个个人的行为。但是，在古代，想要成为一个道德主体的意志，以及对于生存伦理的追寻，主要都是努力去维护自己的自由，赋予自己的生活以某种形式，在这种生活形式里，既可以认识自身，也可以被他人所认识，甚至连后代也会以它为仿效对象。　　在我看来，在古代，道德经验和追求道德的意志，其核心就是一个人拿自己的生活当一件艺术品来精心制作，哪怕得遵守特定的集体标准。而在基督教时代，伴随着文本的宗教，上帝意志的观念，还有服从原则，道德逐渐呈现出由一整套准则所组成的形式（只有某些禁欲实践与个人自由的锻炼有着更紧密的联系）。　　从古代到基督教时代，我们从一种本质上属于对个人伦理的追寻的道德，过渡到一种服从一整套规则的道德。如果说我对古代感兴趣，那是因为我有许许多多理由可以说，遵从一整套规则的道德观念现在正趋于消失，已经逐步消失。而与这种道德的消失相应的是，必然会是，对于一种生存美学的追寻。　　方塔纳：近几年来积累起的有关身体、性本性、纪律的所有知识，是不是已经改善了我们和他人的关系，改善了我们在这个世界上的存在？　　福柯：我总是在想，围绕许多事情——即使与政治选择无关——的讨论，围绕某些生存形式、行为规则等等的讨论，已经大大地增进了和身体的关系、男女两性之间的关系以及和性本性之间的关系。　　方塔纳：所以说这种知识已经使我们能够更好地生活。　　福柯：并不仅仅是在人们所想和所谈论的方面发生了变化，哲学话语、理论和批判方面也有许多变化：实际上，绝大多数这类分析并不是要告诉人们，他们应该成为怎样的人，应该做些什么，又应该相信什么、思考什么。相反，这些分析是要向我们揭示，到目前为止，各种社会机制是怎样成功地运作，各种形式的压制和约束是如何发挥作用，据我看，这样一来，在所有这些的启发下，人们就得自己决定和选择他们的生存。　　方塔纳：五年前，您在法兰西学院的研讨班开始读哈耶克和米塞斯。人们就说：福柯打算通过反思自由主义，给我们写本关于政治的书。自由主义也似乎成了一条迂回的途径，可以使人们超越各种权力机制，重新发现个体。众所周知，您反对现象学式的主体和心理学式的主体。那时，人们开始谈论实践的主体。在某种程度上说，重读自由主义的意图是符合这种取向的。可以理解，人们三番五次地讲，在福柯的作品里没有主体。主体始终受到宰制，是各种规范技术和纪律施用的点，而从未成为自主的主体。　　福柯：这里必须做个区分。首先，我的的确确相信，不存在自主的、奠基性的主体，不存在一种在任何地方都可以找到的普遍主体形式。对于这种主体观念，我非常怀疑，充满敌意。相反，我相信主体是通过臣服（subjection）的实践得以构成的，或者说，就像在古代，是以一种更具自主性的方式，通过解放和自由的实践得以构成的；当然，这些解放和自由的实践的基础，是一系列可以在文化环境中找到的规则、风格和习俗。　　方塔纳：这就将我们引向了当代政治问题。时世艰难：在国际上，我们见证着雅尔塔会议的胁迫交易，见证着两大力量集团的对峙；而在国内，经济危机的恐惧萦绕心头。面对所有这一切，左派与右派之间并没有多少区别，有的只是风格的差异。那么，置身这样的现实和它的要求，一个人又如何能决定，是否存在其他可供替代的选择？　　福柯：在我看来，你的问题固然正确，但同时也有些狭隘。应该把它分解成这样两类问题：首先，我们是必须接受还是拒绝？其次，如果我们拒绝，又能做些什么？拿第一个问题来讲，你必须毫不含糊地做出回答：我们绝不能接受，不管是战争留下的种种后果，还是欧洲某种战略态势的顽固存在，或者是半个欧洲都处在奴役之下的事实。　　方塔纳：所以我们不能采取可以称之为黑格尔式的态度，依照现实呈现给我们的面貌全盘接受。但是还有另一个问题：“在政治中存在真理吗？”　　福柯：我是这样的相信真理，以至不能设想存在不同的真理和不同的讲真理的方式。当然，你不能指望政府讲述真相，把真相和盘托出，只讲真话。相反，我们可以要求那些治理我们的人说出这样一种真话，就是关于他们的终极目标，关于他们各种战术的总体选择，关于他们的计划中的一系列具体要点：这就是被治理者的讲真话（一种自由言谈），被治理者可以而且必须借助自己的公民身份，从治理自己的那些人的所作所为，从他们行动的意义和所做出的决策出发，以知识的名义，以自己所拥有的经验的名义，对那些人提出质疑。　　尽管如此，你还必须避免落入这样一个陷阱，治理者会在那里努力抓住知识分子，而知识分子又常常会陷入其中：“站到我们这边来，告诉我们你打算做什么。”你并不是非得回答这个问题不可。要对某个问题做出决定，就得了解我们无法得到的证据，分析我们无法分析的处境。这是一个陷阱。然而，作为被治理者，我们完全有权利追问有关真相的问题：“比如说，当你厌恶欧洲导弹计划，或是相反，你赞成这项计划；当你重建洛林钢铁企业；当你开始讨论民办教育的问题的时候，你正在做什么？”　　方塔纳：在这个漫长的思索过程中，您乐意遇上哪一类读者，并向他们讲述这一真理？事实上，尽管还是有好作者，但好的读者是越来越少了。　　福柯：别老想着“好”读者——我要说连读者也越来越少了。一个人而今再也不被人读了，这是完全可能的。你的第一本书是被人读了，因为你还不出名，因为人们不知道你是谁，这本书就在混乱之中被大家读了，这让我感到很舒服，你没有理由既写书，又为别人制定 如何读这本书的法律。唯一称得上这类法律的，是任何可能的阅读都行。如果一本书被人读了，但却是以多种不同的方式，我并不会专门为此烦恼。真正值得烦恼的是，你还在继续写书，但根本就不再被人读了，而且，以讹传讹，辗转贩卖，最后，这书变成了一个奇形怪状的东西。　　这实际上是提出了这样一个问题：你是让自己卷入争辩，对这些讹见一一作答，并就此为读者制定阅读法律；还是让书就这么继续被歪曲下去，直到它成为自身的夸张讽刺？对于第一种，我感到厌憎，而对于第二种，我也抱有同样的态度。　　话说回来，对于这个问题，还是有解决办法的：我唯一愿意看到的，是对出版社、对这些书本身，制定出这样的法律：禁止同一位作者的名字使用两次，同时允许匿名和笔名，这样就让每一本书都可以凭着自身而被人阅读了。对于许多书来说，是读者关于作者的知识决定了对书的理解程度。但除了屈指可数的几位巨匠，对于绝大多数的作者来说，这样的知识丝毫派不上用场，反而只是障碍。对于像我这样的人来说，我并不是一位杰出的作者，只是某个写书的人，如果我的书凭其自身被人阅读，带着可能有的任何错误和特点被人阅读，我想会更好一些。

“如果我们选择了最能为人类福利而劳动的职业，那么重担就不能把我们压倒，因为这是为大家而献身；那时我们所感到的就不再是可怜的、有限的、自私的乐趣，我们的幸福将属于千百万人，我们的事业将默默地、但是将永恒地发挥作用地存在下去。面对我们的骨灰，高尚的人们将洒下热泪。”

参与中国现代文学研究是从很年轻的时候就开始的，当时唐弢还是一位20岁的上海邮局的实习拣信生。从追随鲁迅于散文和杂文领域开始创作，到开创性地大量写作书话，再到领衔撰编《中国现代文学史》，半个多世纪的孜孜求索

乔莉对“地方国企”的温情而浪漫想象，忽略了国企作为一种国家资本主义的身份，也无法真正体认“华丽”转身后的国企正是建立在对工人阶级/劳动者的脱钩之上，在这一点上，外企对于一线白领的“压迫”与国企对于劳动者的放弃都遵循着资本利益最大化的逻辑。

所谓学术是不可能独立于一个社会的历史语境而存在的，它本质上是政治的。美国的"中国学"就是一个较好的例子。

于约旦杰拉什与伊尔比德的巴勒斯坦难民营数次讲演

谨以面对向林书扬先生致敬与告别：唯有追求社会完善的个人实践，才是个人的完善过程。他走到了生命的尽头，沿途把它珠玉般地镶嵌在他的生命史中。

罗伯特•布伦纳是所谓“政治马克思主义”的代表人物。一方面，布伦纳的思想对正统马克思主义来说可以说是异端；另一方面，布伦纳的“政治马克思主义”坚持马克思主义关于阶级斗争、无产阶级革命等基本原理，因而又被认为是马克思主义衣钵在西方的真正继承者。本文主要围绕布伦纳关于“封建主义向资本主义过渡”和“战后资本主义现实”问题的研究，对他的政治马克思主义思想作一介绍和评析。

资本主义生产方式首先是一个理论建构，并不等同于资本主义体系。这两者的分野，一方面是因为资本主义生产方式并不具有普遍性或历史必然性，另一方面是资本主义体系的运作并不依赖单一逻辑。在新自由主义全球化年代，资本主义体系的运作逻辑表现为金融化和掠夺式积累，这其实是代表了部分资本的利益，对于全部资本或整个体系而言甚至具有毁灭性趋向。

新小资是否掌握了"文化领导权"，或者掌握了什么样的"文化领导权"；"小资"在当前社会结构中处于什么样的位置，小资文化具有什么样的特色；在未来中国文化的发展中，"小资"将会起到怎样的作用？

2013年伊始，《死生有命富贵在天》在三联书店出版，这本研究中国最古老经典《周易》的作品，标志着李零"我们的经典"系列正式收尾。自2007年起，他在三联书店陆续出版《去圣乃得真孔子：〈论语〉纵横读》、《人往低处走：〈老子〉天下第一》、《唯一的规则：〈孙子〉的斗争哲学》等。这一系列的源起，恰好涵盖了李零多年来几个主要研究方向，简帛文献和学术源流，《孙子兵法》研究，中国方术研究，海外汉学研究与中国古代兵法等多方面。他从古代学术思想的源头开始梳理，正本清源，发悟今日之学术，以启未来之思想。尽管，学术之辩常新，难有定论，但李零深知，比结论更为重要的是学术讨论的气氛和环境。他在"我们的经典"总序中，借胡适和冯友兰对待中国哲学史的不同态度表示，复兴子学，才是重归古典。让儒家由学术史上一家独大的地位，回归百家争鸣的环境。由此观之，由其多年的学术追求观之，这就是"另类"李零的态度。重解经典 先去魅后读书始自2007年底，李零以在北大讲课的笔记为基础，撰述"我们的经典"系列。对中国古代四大典籍《论语》《老子》《孙子》《周易》进行了解读。他认为，这四本书"年代早，篇幅小，比其他古书更能代表中国文化，也更容易融入世界文化。"《论语》和《老子》讲人文，《孙子》和《周易》讲技术，最能体现中国文化中的世俗性与人文性。同时，李零表示，"我们的经典"，并非古圣人经典，而是自己心目中的经典。他还将一种世界性的比较眼光，引入选择标准--自己选择的"经典"也是西方汉学家选择的四大经典，"他们挑选的，是和中国人的思想方式、行为方式关系最为密切的书。"而对于四部典籍的解读切入，李零的做法是先去魅，再读书。在《丧家狗》以及续篇《去圣乃得真孔子》中，他拿孔圣人开"敲"，反对对论语的意识形态解读，他认为，历史上捧孔子，汉儒讲治统；宋儒讲道统；而拿儒学当宗教的，是近代受洋教刺激的救世说。由此，他看出了两个孔子，一个死孔子，是圣人；一个活孔子，是普通人。他主张将孔子还原为一个普通知识分子，去儒学的宗教化、道德化。李零表示，分20个主题解读论语，不是跟风而是逆流，是要泼冷水，把儒学拉回到子学的地位。由此态度延展至《老子》、《孙子》、《周易》，他在古代典籍中，看出了可以启迪今人的普世智慧，"是研究思想史和古人思维方式的工具"。例如《老子》之逃遁，他以为是回到自然或人性。同时，他反对今人对古代典籍急功近利的态度，"讲《易经》就是算命，讲《孙子兵法》就是商战"，直接将矛头指向了当时盲目的国学热。而对于这种治学态度中的经世致用，北京大学教授唐晓峰这样评价，"李零恰恰不是埋头读古书的人，他的现实感受力极强，每次大潮起来，他都能意识到其中的问题，非常清醒，也敢于对潮流说'不'。"李零说自己是读书人，将"我们的经典"和其他著作看作读书笔记，表示"读书就是长知识、解闷寻开心，和普通读者其实是一样的。"并引用孔子"古之学者为己，今之学者为人"的说法，再次表明何为"先去魅，后读书"。三年磨一剑 考据义理释易经在李零口中，文化是一个大课题"我们的经典"四部作品没有优劣高下之分，同样重要。不过，作为最古老经典，《周易》的重释意义重大。传说中，人文初祖伏羲画卦，而文献考古显示，商周便已出现雏形。其后，从孔子口中得以佐证，"加我数年，五十以学易，可以无大过矣"，可见，《周易》已经是当时的经典。到了汉代，《周易》居群经之首。后世九经、十三经也保持了这个排列顺序。《周易》在西方世界被公认为东方古老智慧的代表。但多年来少见深入浅出的译本，导致其变为一本人人爱谈论但无人能看懂的经典。简帛文献和学术源流，中国方术研究是李零的学术方向之一。在此研究基础上，他著有《中国方术考》《中国方术续考》。如果说，"我们的经典"中前三本，李零基本保持一年一本的从容，到了《死生有命富贵在天》，他则耗费了三年时间。依据传世文献，将《周易》的渊源和基本思想置于学术史、思想史的框架下，做了提纲挈领的分析。书中用400多页，20个占卜术语，逐句对《周易》进行解读，不能不说是下了一番考据工夫。他在《死生有命富贵在天》的参考书目中，细数了从汉魏唐宋旧注，到清人著述、近人著述、出土文本研究、易学史及其他共5部分的40部参考书目。同时，在前言中，提供了读周易的方法，即"先读原书，次读易史，最后读出土本。"又开出了14本书目。上世纪80年代以来，中国社科院考古所出身的李零一直从事先秦典籍研究，李零式解读所强调的，恰恰是基于严谨考据，尊重原书词章，还原当时的历史情境，从而上升到义理。力求避免对古代学术的误读和时髦曲解。社科院考古所研究员赵超说："不用现代人的想法去解读古人，这是真正的学术与政治宣传、时髦看客之间的本质区别。"周易--这本被世人视为"算命书"的古老经典，李零的态度是"世皆迷其占，我独爱其辞"。他表示，说周易不能不从占卜开始说，占卜体现出古人的思维方式。但也要看到，占卜只是概率，更为重要的是《周易》经传中蕴含的阴阳对立、五行循环的自然哲学。他戏谑地在文中说道："看病，算命，谁也拦不住，世界杯，看台上全是迷信鬼，贝利的预言总是落空。你问《周易》灵不灵？最好去问章鱼保罗。"看似难讲话讲的全是大白话作为群经之首，《周易》也是最难读懂的古书之一。李零亦坦言，只要读一读就知道，《周易》是本十分枯燥的书。而他在《死生有命富贵在天》中，对《周易》正文加以全新的整理和疏解，破解了许多疑点，并用简要的语言贯通大义、白话译注。翻开本书目录，可见"六龙天上飞""母马地上跑"这样口语化的句子，它们注释的恰恰是古代朴素辩证哲学中最严肃的二元起源：天与地--"乾"卦与"坤"卦。而"小肥猪，真可爱""老公羊，脾气坏"这样的句子分明充满了童谣般的鲜活趣味。《周易》中充满了极为艰深的术语和古文，经此注释，顿时拉近了生活。曾有网友这样评价李零。看似难讲话，但讲的全是大白话，十分浅显易懂。在圈子化课题化的当代学术界，李零"不入基金账目陷阱，不搞集团攻势"，也极少主动介入公众舆论中，作为用脚投票的人，他在自己的研究方向上用力，写"自己的书"。而他的写作之所以出名，并不完全因为其学术专著的"难"。更在于他系列普及类作品中的"易"，无论多么晦涩艰难的概念，李零总能解说得明白晓畅。他的大白话，也体现在说话的直来直去。这些年，他研究海外汉学有些心得。他直截了当地表示，要给国学热降温，也要给港台学术和海外汉学去魅，李零认为，1949年以来，大陆的人文学术，通过学术机构的建立与完善，文物、文献的科学发掘与整理、研究，并非产生了断层，相反，他以为，"传统文化在这儿，文物在这儿，学者也在这儿。"不能盲目迷信港台学术。 让经典回归诸子百家的讨论中选择我们的经典的标准是什么？李零：我所选择的四大经典，和中国人的思想方法有关系。也是西方汉学家选择的四大经典。因为西方人很重视思想史，比如他们讲到希腊经典，一定会读柏拉图、亚里士多德这些思想家的东西，所以他们在中国古籍寻找的也是最有思想和智慧的作品。我们研究西方要读圣经，他们研究中国，在道教里找本书，当做宗教经典也可以理解。而且传统所说的经典从来都不是固定的，比如《论语》，无论在战国还是汉代，都不会算作经，它在汉代曾被视为传记，后来也恢复成经，所以经典的概念一直在发生变化，我讲的"冯胡异同"里，胡适先生一个重要的贡献是，讲思想史不独尊儒家，重新拉回到诸子百家的范围内来讨论，所以儒家经典也是诸子文化所依托的一个经典，其实它还在子学的范围内，而非经学。《易经》被《易传》阐释为自然哲学《易传》用以阐释《易经》，为什么被称为易学革命？李零：说到《易传》和《易经》的关系，我们回过头看《汉书艺文志》就知道，在当时，选择术影响最大，所谓周易之学，虽然因为经学的作用，日渐被重视其思想内涵，但和今天一样，大家对它的兴趣主要在算命，所以仍作为一种术书在传播，在术书列里面，一方面，易学借助经学的力量，另一方面，用顾颉刚先生的说法，汉代的学术中，儒学本身就大讲阴阳五行，知识阶层和统治阶层也重视。阴阳五行，原本跟天文历算选择之书关系更大，但当时《周易》的地位已经改变了。从术书演变的历史来看，周易在战国秦汉时发生的变化是非常重要的、跟我们自然科学史研究最密切的，是古代阴阳五行学说到底怎么形成，在《易传》的阐释下，《易经》获得了新生命--它变成阴阳五行学说的一个经典。而且，中国的数术方技无所不在，本身却没有一个经典，大家要研究阴阳五行学说，只好将《周易》作为经典。中国思想史中，关系到宇宙论和中国古代自然哲学，《周易》有独特的力量。所以一方面，我们是在讲一个孔子的时代就在读的最古老的经典，也要看到它在战国秦汉所发生的后续转变。这就是我理解的易学革命。占卜是统计学，体现投机心理《左传》中可读到古人会进行多次占卜，为什么？李零：《周易》一直被用于占卜，而扑克和占卜相似，都是概率统计学，占卜里体现的投机心理是特别普世的，就像现在人们算命，求医问药一样。希腊人不管干什么都要去神庙里去找神谕。但时常又要走后门，不断贿赂神庙的祭司，最终是想贿赂神改变结果。《左传》里也记载了人类这种相似的原始思维，一方面要卜筮，一方面对结果不满，会多次占卜，还会故意做相反解释。情况很复杂，经过多种解释和占筮，有一定的随意性，根据自己的意愿，这需要去研究占卜的心理学。周易与《老子》同样讨论终极问题周易所说的"道"和老子所说的"道"有何关联？李零：《老子》说的"道"也是在探讨终极问题，虽然《周易》对"道"的理解对和老子的未必一样，但是他们所关涉的对象是完全一样的。中国自然哲学传统一直在延续中国自然哲学还存在吗？李零：不能把中国当怪物，觉得外国有的中国就没有，比如，自然哲学是西方概念，我们过去想到自然起源问题，在西方宗教中，首先有创世纪。那么，中国创世纪在哪儿？中国人对宇宙怎么看？对这点来说，中国人看问题的角度不同，但是不代表没有自然哲学观。中国的宇宙论和自然秩序，集中起来就是阴阳五行学说。虽然，阴阳五行学说并没有一本专著，而是散见在相关的自然科学分支里。在科学昌明的现代，也未必能有人专门对其进行科学研究，通常放在哲学系里，被搞思想史的人研究一下，但是中国毕竟是有这种传统的，在当代，对具体学说而言，它对中医理论的支配性较强。港台学术也有政治背景你作为传统文化研究者，怎么看海外新儒家？李零：讲新儒家需要注意港台学术的政治背景。即使在台湾，文化也与政治运动相关。1966年，大陆在搞文化革命，台湾搞了中华文化复兴运动。其内资源就是新儒家和其理解的传统道，外部与美国当时一个基督教组织相关，这个组织在搞世界道德重整运动--要以基督教的道德来统一其他道德，中华文化复兴运动也是以儒家为核心。希望建立儒教，领导四大宗教。新儒家宣言，基本和中华文化复兴运动非常相似，近年来大陆很多非常响亮的政治口号，是从台湾来的，比如大爱无疆就是台湾的净空法师提的。中华文化复兴运动后来也歇了，原因就是李登辉上台。但是他们那边歇了，我们这里兴起了。要公允评价两岸传统文化近年来谈传统文化必谈台湾学术界，你怎么看？李零：台湾学术这些年在中国放大，和中国现代思想界的生存状态有关系，历史基本都是吃后悔药的，都爱往以前看。离我们最近的后悔药就是台湾，现在台湾有一种神话，说传统文化都在那里。比如1948年底，蒋介石发动抢救大陆学院文化计划，台湾本地不知什么叫传统文化。传统文化是国民党带去的。台湾学者有个比较好的优势，就是没有太多的政治运动，但学术也并非脱离政治。同样大陆学者也没有中断传统文化，中国文物也没有全跑到台湾去，绝大多数在大陆。学者也在这儿。你去看看中华书局、三联、商务印书馆的书目。古典文献的出版都是很多的。对台湾和大陆的文化要做公允的评价。【书摘】古往今来，人类有两个兴奋点，一个是算命，一个是看病。这书跟算命有关。占卜的原理是什么？是投机。投者，下注也。机者，概率也。下注，冥冥之中，若有神助，最能体现随机性。"死生有命，富贵在天"，据说是闻之夫子，夫子传易，至今已2500年。世皆迷其占，我独爱其辞。俗话说，尽人事，听天命，如此而已。人只能管人事，管不了天命。听者不过是姑妄听之，听之任之，爱怎么着怎么着，随它去吧。易学革命有两个层面，第一层是术，第二层是道，术是占卜，道是哲学。易学革命，占卜变哲学，是把《周易》改造，融入阴阳五行学说。阴阳五行学说，很早就萌芽，但系统化在战国时代。准确说，这是阴阳五行说的再创造。阴阳五行说，是讲天地造化的大道理。这种理论，用西方概念讲，只能叫宇宙论或自然哲学。它的根子是星历之学和与星历之学有关的占卜。它是一种哲学，准确说，是占卜哲学。《易经》是西周筮占的经典，《易传》是战国秦汉新旧占卜杂交的产物。在《易传》的阐释下，《易经》才成为中国自然哲学的源泉之一。阴阳讲世间万象的二元对立，五行讲世间万象的五位循环，它们一静一动，构成古人解释世界的两把钥匙。我说的自然哲学，就是指这两把钥匙。节选自李零《生死有命富贵在天》 

【小引】&nbsp; &nbsp;《诗经》小雅里有一篇名叫"大东"。诗云"小东大东，杼柚其空"。前人诠释所谓"小东大东"，一向没有通解。民国时傅斯年由此出发，揭示周人东拓疆土的过程。傅氏以为，"东"本地名，西周初年指商都以东地区，大致即今河南濮阳一带之秦汉东郡地界，后来始随着疆土的拓展向东一直到今山东泰山迤东迤南地区也被称之为"东"地。"东"地扩展过于广袤，为相区别，旧地称为"小东"，新境便称为"大东"。傅斯年阐释这一观点的文章题为《大东小东说--兼论鲁燕齐初封在成周东南后乃东迁》，是一篇名作，所说观点可谓精当不易。只是他解释小东、大东之别，以为"大小之别，每分后先"，"小东在先，大东在后"，似不如以其距中原之远近为分别更加贴切，即所谓"小东"、"大东"，犹如国际上惯称之"中东"、"远东"。或许正是基于这样的理解，日本人才会自称其国为"大东"，他们历史上有名的性读物曰《大东闺语》，便是显著的例证。就与中国中原的距离而言，可谓当之无愧，至少是比"大日本"的自号要切合得多。我这篇谈买书和翻书感想的笔记，是2002年底至2003年初期间，前后两次赴日本进行学术交流期间，徜徉于日本书肆的写真，因此便借用了这样的雅称。&nbsp; 这次在日本购书，所得均为常见大路货，收书的原则是相对比较便宜，同时我对它的内容又感些兴趣。所以基本上没有什么孤秘罕传或是精美超群的书籍，在这里拉杂写下的文字，也就以泛泛介绍和漫谈感想为主要内容。对于偏嗜奇秘书籍的藏书朋友来说，恐怕没有多少值得眷顾的东西。&nbsp;【11月23日】&nbsp; &nbsp;前天抵达日本东京，住在东京都立大学的国际交流会馆。&nbsp; &nbsp;几年前来东京，为买书花光了所有的钱，还欠下一万多元的债。所以在北京出发前，本下定决心这次在日本绝对不再这样买书。东京都立大学位于东京西郊，到市中心的旧书店街神田路程很远，不像我上次在东京住的亚细亚文化会馆，与神田近在咫尺。这也在客观上限制了我的书瘾。不过既是入瘾已深，终究心痒难耐，今天还是来到了神田。即使不买，也不能不看看。&nbsp; &nbsp;走在神田旧书店街上，一切都是那么熟悉，一切都是那么亲切，就像漫步在自己独有的私家园林，一条条小路都在等待着你踱过。空气中弥漫着旧书的气息，让人兴奋，让人激动。站在一家家一排排的书架前，眼前的书籍犹如五颜六色林林总总的花草，芳菲撩人，只欣赏，不采摘，那需要很深的内敛功夫，很超脱的人生境界，而我显然还需要在今后的岁月里得到更多的修炼。结果是在著名的一诚堂书店，买下了一本英文书籍。&nbsp; &nbsp;如果是在北京，逛一趟琉璃厂买一本旧书，好像也没有什么不正常的。可是你要知道，根本不能拿琉璃厂来和神田相比，需要知道琉璃厂只有几家旧书店，而神田的旧书店是有一百好几十家，这里是旧书的帝国，像包容百川的大海一样汇聚着各式各样的旧书。走在这里，脚下是无数沼泽一样的诱惑的陷阱。置身其中，漫步一整天，能够只买一本书即脱身出来，对于一个嗜书成癖的人来说，已经体现了极大的自我克制。只是一旦"破戒"，自我约束会变得更为脆弱无力，买书的冲动很容易随之溃堤而出，一发而不可收拾。&nbsp; &nbsp;神田旧书店虽很集中，但大多铺面都不是很大，在它们当中一诚堂的规模是相当大的。大，一般就要偏向综合，古今日外，什么都有一些，不够专门。楼上楼下两层。楼下卖普通的洋装日文旧书，种类比较繁杂；楼上则是西文旧书、和刻本和精工复制汉和刻本书籍--在这几类书中都有一部分珍本，当然，相应地价钱也都很可观。&nbsp; &nbsp;我选的这本英文书名为《THE TRAGEDY OF PAOTINGFU》（人文与社会：&nbsp;下载&nbsp;似乎需翻墙），翻译过来似乎可以写成《保定惨案》，副标题写着：这是一个关于那些生活、服务和献身于长老会、公理会、中国内地会的信徒的真实故事，他们在1900年6月30日至7月1日期间殉难于中国保定府。了解中国近代历史的人，当然一望可知这是讲清代庚子年间义和拳袭击洋人和"教民"行动中在保定死去的教徒。作者衣萨克·凯特勒（ISAAC C. KETLER），我买到的是1902年6月由美国的福莱明·雷维尔公司（FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY）出版发行的第2版。在书中找不到初版发行的时间，而检核序言末尾所签署的时间就是这个第2版发行的1902年6月，序言中并没有提及再版修订之类的词句，所以终究还是无法判断初版印行的确切年月。 &nbsp;从版本上讲，这样的书当然没有什么特别的价值。不过这本记录中国近代史上重大事件的著述，出版已有百年，不管是对于我，还是对于中国的任何一位历史学者来说，在国内也不是很容易入手的。再说价格3，500日元，再加上5％的消费税，折合成国币大约为250元上下，比北京旧书店的价格也要便宜一些，而若是在东京专门出售有关中国文史旧书的书店，如琳琅阁等处，则至少需要翻上一番，就便宜得更多了。所以，能买到这样的书，还是觉得满惬意的。有意思的是这部书末尾钤盖有"中国出版对外贸易总公司"的蓝色中英文字号，并贴有以"人民币元"（RMBY）为单位的价签儿（具体价格已被旧书商刮去），说明它是作为旧书由中国流入日本的。现在经我手把它带回中国，带回到书中所记事件发生的国度。&nbsp; &nbsp;一本旧书，往往就是这样，冥冥中连接着某些历史的因缘。从庚子事变到今天，一百多年过去了。中国和世界都发生了很多变化，对于当年义和拳勇盲目偏狭仇外蠢动的评价也是毁誉更替，波动起伏不已。洋鬼子固然是来侵略和欺侮我们（并且残杀过许多我们的同胞），但是不分青红皂白地乱杀滥砍，甚至屠戮外交使节和妇女儿童，既愚蠢野蛮，又解决不了任何问题。&nbsp; &nbsp;义和拳本兴起于山东，起初得到山东巡抚李秉衡和毓贤的姑息安抚，势力日渐张扬。到庚子前一年，袁世凯出任山东巡抚，改而施行强力镇压政策，合省之内，大力剿杀。这下子拳民们在山东不好呆了，于是纷纷向直隶发展，并最终逼向京城。当时的直隶按察使廷雍，与袁世凯不同，对于拳民采取纵容利用政策，使得义和拳的势力得以迅速膨胀，于是在庚子事变发生后，汇聚起大批拳民，围攻保定教堂。据时人刘春堂撰《畿南济变纪略》记述：&nbsp;（庚子年）六月初四日（按即西历1900年6月30日），廷雍公奉檄抚用拳匪，赏顶戴，助钱米。是日，焚北关教堂。次日，冒雨焚南关教堂。廷雍公闭城严备，派张协戎督兵弹压。教士、教民数十百人焚杀净尽，无一脱者。内地会贝教士见公理会火起，急携其妻子逃至刘爷庙营中求救。营官王占魁惧罪不敢留，送交拳匪，诣城内献俘。教士曰："死无所吝，但愿一见方伯。"当事者不许，仍舁出城骈戮之。&nbsp;《保定惨案》书中记述的就是在这两天当中被杀的西洋教士在中国的事迹，依据的多是他们及其友人的书信和当时的报道，所以对于研究相关问题具有很高的史料价值。&nbsp; &nbsp;上引《畿南济变纪略》文中提到的内地会贝教士，原名为Benjamin Bagnall，可音译为本杰明&#8226;贝格纳尔，原本是一名英国海军准尉，加入教会后曾在中国太原等地传教，他和妻子艾米丽·金斯蓓丽（Emily Kingsbury），就是他在太原活动期间相识并结婚的。《保定惨案》书中附有贝格纳尔一家的照片，贝格纳尔身穿教会神职人员的白色长袍，而他的妻子却穿着地道的中式衣衫，看得出对中国文化颇有些感情。书中引述一位美国教士的话说，中国人不会有比贝格纳尔夫妇更为真诚的朋友，这或许并不仅仅是泛泛褒扬，而是存有一些具体的缘由。照片上他们夫妇二人并排而坐，神态安祥，身前站立着他们的小女儿格拉迪丝（Gladys）--五六岁的样子，怀里抱着一只小黑猫。她是保定西洋教士圈子里面很讨人喜欢并受到普遍钟爱的孩子。《畿南济变纪略》云贝教士携"妻子"求救，所谓"子"指的就是这个小女孩。《保定惨案》一书中对于他们被杀的经过有如下记述：&nbsp;他们被带到城东南角处的拳坛。稍过一些时候，贝格纳尔夫妇和他们的女儿格拉迪丝以及库珀（Cooper）也被带到这里。他们是逃到王占魁的军营中避难时，被这位凶残的军官采用卑劣手段逮捕的（王占魁后来被联军斩首以惩处他的罪行）。当天下午，他们所有人都被四五个中国人带到城外，捆绑的双手举在头上并与脖子系在一起。......小格拉迪丝靠在妈妈身边走着，身体没被捆绑，可是她却第一个被长矛刺死，尽管她的母亲恳求留下她的生命。他们全部被杀死在城东南角的护城河外，并且被埋葬在那里，死前没有受到折磨。&nbsp;读到这些，使我们对于这一段历史会产生微妙的切入肌肤的具体感觉。小格拉迪丝自然是完全无辜的，但这悲剧并不完全是由中国义和拳民的无知与野蛮造成的，而是历史本身就是这样残酷。作为一个西洋人，《保定惨案》的作者衣萨克·凯特勒当然不会去记述西洋侵略者对无辜中国民众的虐杀，而在中国人撰写的《畿南济变纪略》一书中，我们却可以看到，八国联军入侵后，在保定附近仅一次就"屠男女二百馀口"的野蛮行径。即使是在一百多年以后的今天，这种历史的残酷性，在本质上也并没有任何改变。或许大家多交互着看一看这种战争双方的记载，会有助于我们从人性的角度，更为清醒地认识历史，更为智慧和理智地处理国家间的利益争端，至少应当有更多的人能够怀抱着这样的期望。&nbsp;【11月26日】&nbsp; &nbsp;从上午起，又去神田的书店看书。大前天开了个头，买书的欲望又在提升。&nbsp; &nbsp;在专门卖中国文史书籍的山本书店，仔细看了很长时间。店里中国古籍的价位、品种和档次都与几年前没有多大差别。山本书店每有新的售书目录出版，大阪的友人泷野邦雄先生都会寄给我看，这样看着架上的书籍，更缺少新鲜刺激的感觉。记得在近期的《山本书店古书目录》上，见到过一部清人江有诰的《江氏音学十书》。这是研究古代音韵的名著，书为嘉庆、道光年间刊刻，是我感兴趣的清人学术著作中极为罕见的一种，旧时学者珍若球璧。现存国家图书馆的王国维旧藏本，其中尚有部分抄配，其入手之难，可想而知。正因为罕见难求，书店虽标价高达50万日元（约合国币三万三四千元），还是很快就被人买去，我在店里仔细看了好半天，也没能看到它的容颜。感兴趣的书只有一部清人赵绍祖的《通鉴注商》，这书订正了胡三省《通鉴注》的许多疏误，是作者在嘉庆年间家刻的本子，虽是清代通行的方体字，而镌刻精整，刷印无多，一向流传很少，故深得旧时学者的青睐。只是山本书店所定的价格也颇为不菲。离开书店时在店门口瞥见一叠五六十年代印制的复制木版画明信片，画面满有味道，每样各选一种，总共买了六七套。一套仅一百日元，物美价廉，是很惬意的收获。&nbsp;【12月28日】&nbsp; &nbsp;上午，赴高圆寺古书会馆。会馆离电车站很近，加上此前已经在神保町抄下了地址和指示图，所以出车站北口走两分钟，很容易就找到了地方。赶到稍晚了一点儿，大致是在10点半前后。按常规，展卖会10点钟开始。&nbsp; &nbsp;规模比前几天去的五反田南部古书展要稍大一些，可能是展卖第一天刚刚开始的关系，人也稍稍拥挤。不像在五反田看到的那样冷清。不仅要像神保町教育会馆那样存包，还需要拖鞋。&nbsp; &nbsp;照常规先是大致巡视一周，没有见到什么线装古籍或是迫切需要的专业书，于是一一从头看起。&nbsp; &nbsp;先是拿到一本《海南岛记》，昭和十四年亦即1939年5月改造社初版首次印刷。品相很好，干净整齐。封面图案是日本传统的木版画风格，椰树、茅屋、芭蕉叶，一派恬静的田园气息。不过书的内容却与此大相径庭。&nbsp; &nbsp;作者火野苇平，是日本战时臭名昭著的战争吹鼓手，战争期间曾因写下赞美侵华战争的《麦与士兵》（《麦と兵队》）、《土与士兵》（《土と兵队》）、《花与士兵》（《花と兵队》）士兵三部曲而名噪一时，据云三部曲的总印次上百，总销售量超过200万部，还被搬上舞台演出，是当时最畅销的"文学作品"，战后被列为头号战犯作家，算是罪有应得。&nbsp; &nbsp;除了这本《海南岛记》之外，在展卖场上同时也见到了这家伙写的《麦与士兵》，但已经是第十几次以刷的印本，而且价格也并不便宜，便没有收。选择这本《海南岛记》，一是因为它是初版首次印刷，二是内容为"纪实性"的记述，不像《麦与士兵》，虽然配有一些战地照片，但实际是小说。当然，这是因为我是搞历史的，从研究的角度看重记事的书籍，而藏书家的正宗和主流，走遍全世界都是以文学作品为首要集藏对象。&nbsp; &nbsp;火野苇平在前言中说，他是作为"军部报道员"参加进攻海南岛的战役的。本书记录了从1939年2月10日登陆起，到农历大年初一即2月19日止共十天期间在海南岛的经历和见闻。后面附有1938年12月间在广东东莞的行记《东莞行》。他自己说，或者可以称之为"海南岛资料"，自己感到可能罗列了一些原始资料。然而，这正是我对此书最感兴趣的地方。对于海南抗日战争史研究来说，这是一本非常重要的正式出版物。由于它的性质与畅销的小说不同，所以也不大可能像《麦与士兵》等书那样一再重印。不管是在中国，还是日本，想买一本放在手边，恐怕都很不容易了。&nbsp; &nbsp;附带在这里顺便说一句，时下国内很多新闻媒体，甚至包括中央电视台在内，常常报道某地某人"发现"某部书籍，找到了日本侵华残害中国人民的又一"铁证"。其实基本上都是像《海南岛记》这样的日本战时公开发行的很普通的正式出版物。虽然其中有相当一部分书，现在在日本也不容易买到，但图书馆和藏书家手中终归是存有许多的，用不着什么人去"发现"，更不宜拿它当什么新证据。事实上即使是日本极右翼分子，也没有办法否定对华战争本身，只不过他们丧心病狂地叫嚣"大日本皇军"是在"替天行道"，如同本书所录日本侵略军的布告中所说，"日本军是为打到榨取人民膏血之暴蒋，拯救脱离苛敛诛求之政府，使日华提携永久，建设和平乡"，因而根本不存在侵略谁的问题。这也是日本当道政客始终不愿向中国人民正式道歉的内在原因。&nbsp; &nbsp;书中不仅收录了许多日本侵略军的布告、传单和招贴画等，更有研究和资料价值得是海收录有一些抗日宣传品，包括标语、招贴画，以及期刊、杂志、书籍的情况。如海南抗日刊物《前哨》旬刊和广州抗日刊物《抗战大学》的封面，题为《打到日本去》的招贴画，抗日连环画《绘本台儿庄》的书影等等。上岛后，火野苇平在海口海南书局看到的抗日宣传品堆积如山，除留下少量供他们揣摩参考之外，全部焚烧销毁。其中仅被他随意列举的一小部分书刊名称即有：《东洋鬼子怀鬼胎》、《日本人民的反战运动》、《日本在中国的赌博》、《血战卢沟桥》、《抗日英雄苗可秀》、《抗日十杯茶》、《抗战歌谣》、《飞将军空中大战》、《郝梦麟抗敌殉国》、《抗战时期民众训练与组织》、《抗日游击战争》（朱德著）、《中国抗战地理》、《战时读本》（民众训练及小学校用）、《战时的妇女工作》、《怎样组织义勇军》、《战地半月》、《抗战文艺》、《解放》、《全民抗战》、《抗日漫画集》等等。其中有些就是海南书局自己出版的。抗战硝烟散去已近半个世纪，这里列举的书刊有些可能是仅存名目于此，不易找到原件了。&nbsp; &nbsp;海南书局是当时海南第一大书店兼出版商社，老板唐品三，是海南抗日三大领袖之一。日军入侵后，书局被视作"敌产"，为侵略军没收，火野苇平上岛后就住在这里，并在这里炮制出版了侵略宣传刊物《海南迅报》。所以他对海南书局的情况有比较具体的记述。研究30年代海南图书出版发行的历史，在这里可以找到一些很具体的资料。&nbsp; &nbsp;除了研究日军占领时期海南地政治、经济和文化状况之外，书中还记录有一些海南地风俗民情以及外侨、台湾渔民、僧侣等在海南地情况。这些也都是研究者可以参考的资料，不仅仅是"供批判用"而已。这是火野苇平从事罪恶写作时预想不到的事情。&nbsp;接下来是几本专业书。&nbsp; &nbsp;石田干之助的《长安之春》，是研究唐代文化和社会生活的名著，中国学者都很熟悉，书我也 早已买过。这次买到的是收入平凡社所刊《东洋文库》的文库丛书本，为1967年5月初版之第20次印本，印刷量大，许多书店都可以看到，但价格一般在一千日元上下，这本500日元，稍廉。这书之所以流行，很大程度上是因为文笔比较流畅一些，每篇文章又都短小精悍，雅俗共赏，两相兼宜。当然，所谓"俗"也不能太俗，是指具有一定中国古代文史知识的非中国古代史专业人士。&nbsp; &nbsp;对于喜欢古籍或者书籍史的人来说，这本书里所收录的《唐代图书杂记》，就是一篇一定会得到大家喜欢的好文章。作者一一讲述了唐代书店、藏书家、书籍装订与装潢、插架形式，直至藏书目录等各方面有关书的情况，很值得翻译介绍给中国爱书的朋友们，只是不知道出版方面有没有什么法律问题需要解决。&nbsp; &nbsp;附带在这里狗尾续貂，替石田氏补充一点儿有关唐朝人读书情形的资料。唐代书籍装订，通行的是像现在字画一样的卷轴装，即石田干之助所说的卷子本。每一个卷子往往很长，而写卷子的纸是一张张分页写的，写好后再粘到一起，成一长卷。这样读书的时候，要把粘连在一起的一页页书从头展开，才能逐一阅读，一边读，还要一边把读过的部分卷拢起来，需要查阅读过的部分的时候，则要重新展开，反反复复，读起来是很麻烦的。柳宗元的文集《柳河东集》卷三十《寄许京兆孟容书》中，就反映出他阅读这种卷子本的劳累："往时读书，自以不至抵滞，今皆顽然无复省录。每读古人一传，数纸以后，则再三申卷，复观姓氏，旋又废失。"正因为这样辛苦，中国古代书籍装订的通行形式后来才发生改变，陆续出现了经折装、胡蝶装、包背装，直到万历以后通行的线装。&nbsp; &nbsp;卫藤利夫《鞑靼》。原书初版于昭和十三年（1938年）4月，由满铁社员会刊行；同年7月，朝日新闻社有重刊本；后来又被收入昭和三十一年（19556年）出版的《鞑靼--东北亚的历史与文献》一书。此次所得是1992年3月由中央公论社发行的《中公文库》丛书本。虽然算不上什么旧书，书品也显得和市上新出的文库本没什么两样，但说起来发行也有十年了，而且书口有毛边未裁，这也是时下新刊文库本所少见的。&nbsp; 作者卫藤利夫，终身从事图书馆工作，大正八年（1919年）至昭和十五年（1940年）期间，曾任满铁奉天图书馆馆长，在中国东北生活过很长时间。因为是搞西语翻译出身而在中国东北从事图书馆事业，所以卫藤利夫研究关注的焦点，是西洋文献中对于中国东北历史的记载，具体地讲，就是西洋传教士在中国东北的活动。作者的研究显然更侧重文献学方面。他主持满铁奉天图书馆时确定的一个重点采购方向，就是收集耶稣会士的书翰和年报等西洋资料。以前我曾随便猜想，中国国内图书馆的早期西文资料，可能都是西洋人带到中国的书籍。其实至少满铁奉天图书馆的西文书籍，很多都是由卫藤利夫经手，通过书店的书目，向巴黎、伦敦等地经营珍稀版本的著名旧书店订购来的。研究这些资料，既是他个人兴趣所在，也是他的工作任务，还有他作为外国人踏上中国领土后与这些传教士相通的个人情感。&nbsp; &nbsp;除了作者节译的南怀仁《鞑靼旅行记》（节译关于东北部分，题名为《南怀仁满洲旅行记》）之外，别的内容都太专门，一时顾不上看。更吸引我一口气读完的是书后所附《卫藤利夫与<鞑靼>》一文（作者中见立夫，是卫藤氏之子卫藤沈吉德朋友，当时任东京外国语大学副教授）。文章的副标题为："战前时期中国东北地区的图书馆和图书馆人"。&nbsp; &nbsp;满铁图书馆的图书收藏和发展状况，一直是我所感兴趣的问题，可是在中国没有读到过系统的介绍，始终弄不清楚其来龙去脉。本文虽然也是根据旧有资料编写而成，但叙述简明扼要，线索清晰，不仅谈"物"的图书馆的发展，还谈活的能动的人在里面起到的作用。&nbsp; &nbsp;基于满铁在中国东北攫取得巨大财力基础，和相关负责人的眼光、魄力，满铁三大图书馆即大连图书馆、奉天图书馆和哈尔滨图书馆，不仅在图书收藏方面可以与日本国内的一流图书馆相篦美，而且在为满铁购藏图书工作中成长起来的卫藤利夫等人，也成为日本一流的图书馆专家。战后日本许多大型图书馆的建设，都有满铁图书馆旧人在里面发挥了重要作用。卫藤利夫本人则在战后荣任日本图书馆协会理事长一职。&nbsp; &nbsp;卫藤利夫和其他满铁专家为满铁图书馆收罗的书籍，除大连图书馆藏书有一部分被苏联红军掠走下落不明之外（苏联红军掠走的书籍中也有一部分由苏联政府交还给中国，如现藏中国国家图书馆的几十册《永乐大典》），其余都在战后为中国政府所接收。尽管在当时的环境下，卫藤利夫的工作只是为效忠于他所生长的日本国的政府，他也曾为"九·一八"的无耻入侵和伪满洲国的建立而奔走欢呼，但历史是立体的。我们今天读他的文章，看他的演说稿，回顾他在满铁奉天图书馆的工作，还是能感受到一种为图书馆这种社会文化事业本身而献身的服务精神。仅仅就这一方面而言，客观上他对中国的图书馆事业，也是一位做出过一定贡献并值得纪念的人物。&nbsp; &nbsp;《北京年中行事记》。这书是清末敦崇所著《燕京岁时记》的日译本，讲北京各时令的习俗。本来我收有这书的光绪丙午（1906年）原刻初印本，而且还是作者敦崇本人自藏旧本，钤有"铁狮道人"（敦崇号）印章。既然如此，而又要买日文本，似乎有些荒唐。其实我主要是想看它的注释，而不是刻意收藏配置这类关于"老北京"的书籍。注释此书的小野胜年，是研究中国古代史的专家，熟悉注释此书所需要的相关典籍，并在北京留学过一段时间，对于书中记述的许多节令习俗，都有亲身见闻，所以所做注释既有文献参稽，又有实地验证，具有很高学术参考价值。此注释本前有昭和十五年亦即1940年7月小野氏序，因此注释中提到的当时的实际情况，可以帮助读者了解有关节令习俗在30年代末至40年代初的演变情况，作为对原书的补充。&nbsp; &nbsp;这书此前另有Derk Bodde 所做的英文译注本，题作Annual Customs and Festivals in Peking，在欧美关注中国社会风俗的人士中间比较流行。在北京大旧书店里和拍卖会上见过几次这种英译本，均因标价过昂未买，也不知其注释是否也像日译本一样具有参考价值（此外，本书过去还有法文译本）。&nbsp; &nbsp;这个日译本虽然是很不起眼的软皮小文库本，但却是昭和十六年（1941年）8月初版首次印刷的岩波文库原版，上口还留有毛边。尽管是没什么值得稀罕的大路出版物，常逛书店总可以找到，价格一般也都很便宜，但特意要找初版文库本中自己喜欢的某一种书，也不容易。所以日本有些旧书店会专门经营初版文库本。不过即使是在那里，品种也不能应有尽有，个别想要收齐某一文库的藏书家，还需要用复制本来凑数，况且一旦到了那里，价钱可就比较贵了。小野胜年的这部译本，后来又被收入了平凡社刊行的《东洋文库》丛书，现在在旧书店里非常好找，却是无法体味到这种初版本的古雅韵味。&nbsp; &nbsp;除了注释以外，日译本书里还增附有一些插图，包括照片。插图主要是采自《鸿雪因缘图记》、《唐土名胜图绘》、《万寿盛典》、《清俗纪闻》等中日古籍的版画，还有没有交待来源的素描画，不知道是否出自小野胜年本人之手。图片配得不俗。只是初版本也有初版本次坏处，就是当时制版不佳，图片大多模糊不清。&nbsp; &nbsp;日本译注本还有一点很不妥当地地方，这就是删除了原书各项节令习俗下面所附的古今诗文。虽说其中很大一部分是乾隆皇帝的所谓御制诗（实际上不需要乾隆爷自己动手，自有如沈德潜一辈奴才代劳），感兴趣的读者不一定十分普遍，但既然是印行古书，只要没有什么不可克服的障碍，就应当尽量保持原貌。其实仅仅是乾隆皇帝这样到处乱题所谓御制诗本身，就是一种很有趣的文化现象。稍有文化的读者，看了以后都会得到清楚的启示，理出相应文化现象的历史轨迹。除了专业需求和个人兴趣之外，我想读史书对所有人都会产生的潜移默化的社会功能，就是使人的思维更深刻，头脑更智慧，每一个人也就会因此而变得更为成熟。从而了解历史完整的本来面目，也就变得尤为重要。&nbsp; &nbsp;不管怎样，日本人做事还是很负责任的（他们对侵华战争不负责任是另一种性质的问题），在前言和凡例中都对所删节内容做了认真的说明，这很值得尊重。比较一下，我们可以看到，国内的北京出版社，在排印出版《燕京岁时记》时，不知为什么，也同样删除了这些诗文，可是却没有做任何说明，如同剪径大盗一般。&nbsp; &nbsp;《北京笼城·北京笼城日记》。这是捆成一册出版的两种书，都是记述光绪二十六年（1900年）亦即庚子年八国联军侵入北京前义和团和清军围困列国使馆情况的日记式记述。虽说是研究相关问题的基本史料，一般读者看一看却也很有意思。我得到的是昭和40年（1965年）刊行的平凡社《东洋文库》丛书本，而且是很晚的后印本，从藏书的角度看，没有任何特别的价值。&nbsp; &nbsp;《北京笼城》作者柴五郎，时任日本驻华使馆武官，军衔为炮兵中校。《北京笼城日记》作者服部宇之吉，时为东京帝国大学文科大学副教授，受日本文部省派遣，在中国留学，被日本使馆招募为所谓"义勇军"，参加列强守护使馆区的战事。&nbsp; &nbsp;柴五郎书的底本，是明治三十四年（1901年）年底应日本军事教育委员会之邀讲演之后，翌年（1902年）7月由军事教育委员会据讲稿发行的小册子，原本自然不易一见。&nbsp; &nbsp;服部宇之吉的日记，在他当年底回到日本后就有刊本，至大正十五年（1926年）7月，作为其还历（60岁）纪念，又增附他所撰写的《北京笼城回顾录》，以及服部夫人繁子所写的《大崎日记》，出版了私家限定版。当时限定发行300部，我在北京旧书店中曾经见过，嫌价格稍昂，没有收下。这个《东洋文库》印本，便是以服部私家限定版为底本，而删略去了服部繁子的《大崎日记》。这样一看，以后遇到原版限定本的《北京笼城日记》，还是应该买下。看被人删削不全的书籍，总有自己身体的某一部分被人肢解了似的感觉，很不舒服。再说七十多年前限定300部的限印本，现在也很稀少了，即使谈不上"稀若星凤"，也绝对是可遇而不可求之物，身价高一些，也是有资格的。&nbsp; &nbsp;除此之外，《东洋文库》丛书的出版者还专门请人做了许多编辑加工，对于原文中清廷上谕等朝命之日文训释的刊载位置有移易，对原版所附照片有增删、地图有减省，甚至对原文所用名词也有改写，如改"法国"为"佛国"，改"俄国"、"鲁国"为"露国"，等等，简直是肆意阉割，真真岂有此理。这样一看，遇到原版，即使价高，也更是非买下不可。&nbsp; &nbsp;当然，编辑者大山梓其人也做了许多富有意义的工作。他引据其他原始资料，为这两种书都加了对研究者很有用处的注释，还编辑了"北京笼城年表"，附在卷末，对阅读原书和从事研究也都很有帮助。公允地讲，功过相较，对于大多数一般读者来说，还是功大于过。&nbsp; &nbsp;服部宇之吉《北京笼城回顾录》，是事后用专题笔记得形式，根据回忆，记录此役间的逸事，其间夹杂着作者的一些看法和推测，所以对于不专门搞这一段历史研究的人来说，读起来要更有味一些。比如他讲到人力车引入中国后，从上海到天津，再到北京的滋漫流行过程，联系到北京大人力车夫等苦力多来自义和团的发源地山东，从而推测义和团在北京的兴盛与北京人力车的增加，二者之间具有某种联系。这种想法有没有道理姑且不论，所说人力车引入北京及其逐渐流行过程却满有意思。&nbsp; &nbsp;在这些专题记述当中，我最感兴趣的是《永乐大典》的毁失情况。据服部宇之吉讲，6月23日上午，微微有一点儿北风，中国军民利用风向，在英国使馆北面相邻的翰林院放火，试图火攻英国使馆。而当中方大举进攻之前，列国决定固守待援的时候，商定把妇女、儿童和老人、病人集中到馆舍最宽敞的英国使馆，日本书记官石井的夫人等日本妇女、儿童，就呆在离翰林院最近的一所建筑里。这样日本人便不能不拼死救护。&nbsp; &nbsp;当时，服部宇之吉等日本"义勇队"员和一些英国水兵，凿破院墙突入翰林院后，把院中的书籍纸片等投入水池中，后来房屋倒塌，火很快就要延烧到这里。这时服部宇之吉看到了堆积在书架上的《永乐大典》，他无暇估摸具体册数，试着随便抽几册看了一下，知道堆放的次序并不规则。服部觉得其他东西扔到水池子里也就算了，却实在舍不得扔《永乐大典》。可又确实没法全部都保存下来，这样就怎么也要想办法留几册样本给世人。于是，随便抽了三册，存放到日本妇女的住处后，又返回翰林院，找到狩野直喜、古城贞吉（时任《东京日日新闻》社特派记者），以及莫里逊博士，他们也各自带出若干册来。&nbsp; &nbsp;这场大火大约在傍晚时分被全部扑灭。第二天，日本公使馆二等秘书官楢原陈政，向他转达了英国公使的意向，准备日后向中国政府全部返回翰林院的书籍，因此，个人带出的书籍，应全部缴出。于是服部宇之吉便如数上缴了自己带出的《永乐大典》。&nbsp; &nbsp;服部宇之吉在同年10月回国后，又赴德国留学。在留学期间，升任东京帝国大学教授。明治三十五年（1902年），被清朝政府聘为京师大学堂师范馆的主任教授，后出任京师大学堂总教习，明治四十二年（1909年）回国，继续任教于东京帝国大学，讲授中国文学和哲学。&nbsp; &nbsp;上面提到的合他一起困在使馆区内的狩野直喜，当时也也是日本文部省派往中国的留学生。他在脱离笼城后，先是一度回国，后又去上海学习，学成回到日本，出任京都帝国大学教授，也是讲授中国哲学和文学。&nbsp; &nbsp;服部宇之吉和狩野直喜，后来都成为世界知名的汉学家，一东一西，两相照映，在当代日本汉学发展史上占有同等重要的关键地位。&nbsp; &nbsp;当时困在笼城中的还有另外一名日后驰名世界的汉学家，这就是从事敦煌文书整理研究的法国人伯希和。当时他的身份是新闻记者。&nbsp; &nbsp;笼城中另一位与后来的海外汉学乃至整个东洋学研究具有密切关系的重要人物，是上面提到的和服部宇之吉一样拿出过几册《永乐大典》的莫里逊博士。莫里逊为英国人，当时在华的身份是《泰晤士报》通讯员，后来被北洋政府聘为顾问。&nbsp; &nbsp;莫里逊是在1897年来到中国的，来华后即留心收集用世界各国文字撰写的有关中国的文献和著述，到使馆被围时，虽仅有几年时间，却已经初具收藏规模。为保护图书免受池鱼之灾，困守笼城时他把书籍存放在毗邻英、日使馆的肃亲王府内。到1917年，前后二十年间，莫里逊的这批特藏书籍，已经相当可观，总数达两万五千册上下。这年8月，他把这批书籍整体卖给了日本三菱财阀岩崎久弥，岩崎氏将其命名为"莫里逊文库"。岩崎久弥买书时曾延请著名东洋史学家石田干之助一同来华，帮助把握，看重的就是这批藏书的学术价值。至1924年，便以莫里逊文库为基础，拨款建立了后来驰名国际学术界的中国及亚洲历史文化研究专业图书馆--东洋文库，当然这也是日本汉学家所依恃的重要专业图书馆。随便说说，东洋文库存有许多册《永乐大典》，不知道其中是否包括莫里逊在翰林院拿走的那几本。&nbsp; &nbsp;一般中国学者到东洋文库，多是查访和利用汉文史料，尤其是中国古代典籍。其实东洋文库虽然陆续获得了许多中国古代典籍，包括如滕田丰八等一些汉学家的藏书，但其馆藏中国版刻古代典籍，除极个别书籍如宋版孤本《历代地理指掌图》等之外，，都是很平常的学者用大路书，它并不是以版本珍贵或书籍稀罕见长，对于中国学者来说，可以说没有太多特别值得在意的东西。东洋文库对于我们利用价值更大的应该说是以莫里逊旧藏为主体的西文书籍，以及满、蒙、藏、朝鲜、越南等亚洲民族语文史料，还有一批中、日文近代史资料，如汪伪政权档案等。莫里逊旧藏有关中国的西文书籍，因为全面、集中而查阅便利，况且其中也确有一部分很罕见的资料。只是由于历史的原因，我们这一代中国史学者的西文水平从总体上来说，似乎还有很大有待提高的差距，因而还没有很好利用这批宝藏，相信未来更年轻的中国学者，能够尽快追赶上来，弥补这一缺憾。&nbsp;庚子之役与后来日本汉学研究的联系还不止于此。&nbsp; &nbsp;围攻使馆这一愚蠢至极的举措，导致八国联军入据京城，不仅当时大肆抢掠，第二年善后处理时列国强盗又大开血口，索取所谓"赔偿"，强迫清廷总计支付四亿五千万两白银，付款期限三十九年，这样本息合计届时总共将被勒索九亿两白银。如此高额勒索，除了大饱其贪欲之外，其中更险恶的用心，就是要彻底摧垮中国的经济，从而也就彻底丧失了军事防卫能力，使中国在经济上彻底依附于列强，成为其永久的大市场；政治上完全听任其摆布，成为其鼓掌之中的棋子。&nbsp; &nbsp;这笔钱清政府虽然不得不认，可中国与其它受西方列强欺侮的弱小民族有很大的不同，它有非常深厚悠久的文化传统，有一大批秉承自己文化传统的优秀知识分子。这些人是真正维系中国社会的中坚力量。洋人即使可以靠洋枪洋炮肆意恐吓朝廷，却对这些人不能毫无顾忌。他们清楚地意识到，这种无耻的敲诈，会给中国知识分子心灵带来怎样的侮辱和伤害。于是，出于缓和中国民众特别是知识分子反感情绪的考虑，列国强盗又商议各自拿出所谓"赔款"，为中国办一点儿"文化事业"，比如后来很有名的燕京大学、清华大学和协和医院，就是由美国用庚子赔款兴建的。&nbsp; &nbsp;日本政府的做法却与美国不大相同。日本最终共分得3，479万两赃银。它是在外务省下面设立了一个"对支文化事业部"。大正十二年（1923年）三月，日本政府公布"对支文化事业特别会计法"，宣布每年从庚子赔款中为有关中国的学术研究和服务于中国的文化事业，支付三百万元。大正十四年（1925年）10月，由对支文化事业部出面，在北京组建"东方文化事业委员会"，并设立东方文化图书馆和北平人文科学研究所，其主要工作是想续修《四库全书》，首先是收集书籍并组织撰写提要。现在由大陆和台湾方面分别出版的《续修四库全书总目提要》，就是这个组织的工作成果。此外，还在上海设立了一个"自然科学研究所"。&nbsp; &nbsp;需要注意的是这笔钱的用途，首先是资助日本学者的对华研究，虽然这在客观上有助于日中文化交流，但其出发点，显然是服务于日本政府。其次所谓"东方文化事业委员会"，委员长是由日本人担任，委员中虽然有中方人士，但也是以日方为主。这个组织尽管是在中国开展工作，实际上却形同于日本驻外学术机构，只不过是有一些中方雇员而已。所以从其组建伊始，中国留日学生和国内文化团体，就纷纷进行抵制，指出要警惕日本的文化侵略野心，并要求完全由中国的文化教育团体来主持工作。至1928年（日本昭和三年）5月，日本借口保护侨民，出兵济南，与国民革命军发生直接冲突，激起中国民众强烈不满，东方文化事业委员会当中的中方委员宣布退出，以示抗议。这样北京的研究工作便已很难开展局面，而日本政府则干脆直接把资金主要都投向其国内，第二年设立了东方文化学院，研究中国历史文化。东方文化学院下设两个研究所，即东京研究所和京都研究所，分别设在当时的东京帝国大学（即今东京大学）和京都帝国大学（即今京都大学），这就是当今日本研究中国历史文化的两大重镇--东京大学东洋文化研究所和京都大学人文科学研究所的前身。而这两个研究所的首任所长，即分别为《北京笼城日记》的作者服部宇之吉和同他一起困在笼城之中的狩野直喜。不仅这两个研究所是靠庚子赔款发轫运作，很多后来很有名的日本汉学家，当时到中国留学，也都是依靠这笔经费。日本政府最后完全是拿这笔钱搞了自己的文化事业。&nbsp; &nbsp;抛开日本和其他列强收买人心的用意不谈，其实任何国家资助对外文化交流，都不同程度地带有扩大自己文化影响的意图。日本学者说，当初日本决定用庚子赔款搞东方文化事业委员会等事情，与中国赴日留学生学成归国后对日本普遍存在反感情绪这一背景具有密切关系，即试图以此来改变中国文化界对日本的看法。而其结果却是适得其反，引起中国文化界更深的反感。五年前我曾看到一份日本某民间对外文化交流团体所做问卷调查的统计资料。材料显示，直到今天，包括中国人在内的大多数各国留学生，仍然比较普遍地对日本持有某种反感情绪。我个人是非常地不认同这种情绪的。我想，既然是留学，就要入境随俗，尽可能多发现和学习人家的长处。如果我们中国人能够认真地学习到日本民族一些优秀品质，将会对我们的生活面貌产生非常深刻和积极的影响。这些反感情绪的形成，原因可能比较复杂，我没有实际体会，不好胡乱猜测。但是在如何使用庚子赔款达到扩大自己文化影响这一目的方面，美国和日本用不同做法儿产生的不同效果，或许可以给人们一些启示。即以美国资助中国学生赴美留学一事为例，它让中国人切实得到了好处（尽管这本来就是我们自己的钱），借此成就了自己的事业，从而当然对美国心存好感；而不是像日本人，拿这钱搞自己的事业。虽然日本汉学研究以此为基础，取得了举世公认的成就，中国学术界对此也很钦敬，但这毕竟是日本人自己的荣誉。既然是想做"善事"，就要拿出世界经济大国的气度，要放开手脚，不要总有自己过小日子的想法。这样对世界文化交流可能会起到更大的作用，自然也就会对日本文化的传播产生更积极的影响。&nbsp; &nbsp;虽然上面谈的都是书外边的闲话，但专业书谈起来毕竟要更沉闷一些。下面谈谈这次得到的一本北京导游书。书的名字就叫《北京》，这也是当时西文北京导游书习惯的命名方式。不过本书还有个副标题--"名胜与风俗"。全书一共十二章，第一章是总括性的介绍和印象，第二至第七章是谈名胜，后五章是讲风俗。&nbsp; &nbsp;书初版于昭和九年（即1934年）九月，我买到的是昭和十四年（1939年）六月的第四版本。出版印刷在日本东京，发行所则是设在北京东单的东亚公司，另有销售商是西单市场的东明书局。&nbsp;作者村上知行在序言里说，本书首先是北京导游册，同时也是关于北京的随笔。作者不愿意写成简单的导游手册，因为他觉得这作为读物太过于乏味，于是写成了现在这样：以自己的亲身游历过程为线索，在向读者介绍名胜、风俗的同时，信手铺陈有关历史典故，漫然诉说见解感想。北京过去的导游书籍，我只买过一本朱利艾特·布莱登（JULIET BREDON）撰写的英文书籍，书名为PEKING（《北京》），也没有仔细看。但与建国以来新出的书籍相比，这是我读过的最好的北京导游书。读他的书，像是和好朋友同行，听他向你娓娓叙说，指点门径，倾吐心绪，交流感受。&nbsp;【12月29日】&nbsp; &nbsp;上午，赴神奈川县古书会馆的旧书展卖会。10点多钟出发，由南大泽乘电车到桥本，再换车到东神奈川，下车时已接近11点半。&nbsp; &nbsp;陈捷在电话里指点说，神奈川县古书会馆设在东神奈川车站附近反町公园边上。下车后在电车站内的一幅地图上，很容易找到了反町公园，走过去只用5分钟左右。公园很小，可还是没有一眼就看到古书会馆。问路，估计女人一般对此不感兴趣，找到了两个中年男人。第一个人对于世界上还有"古书会馆"这等机构存在，显然感到诧异；第二个人则同样苦笑对此一无所知。幸好看到以为老者，手持旧书，悠然漫步，酷似道中人的神态。上前一打听，老人嘿嘿直乐。可能是觉得我这怪腔怪调的外国人，竟然跑到这么偏僻的地方来找旧书，很有意思。不过推己度人，我觉得老人更像是有一种与海外同道人相遇的喜悦。为什么不呢？同是天下爱书人，四海之内皆兄弟嘛。老人很快活地随手一指--原来古书会馆就在前面不到200米远的地方。走了几步，就看到了随风招展的展卖会的旗帜。&nbsp; &nbsp;展卖会规模不大。与前几天去过的五反田南部古书会馆的展卖会大致相当。有了五反田的经验，这也是预料之中的事情，或者说比我事先估计的还要好些。因为五反田还在东京城市中心区域，而这里已靠近横滨，能达到这样的规模，算是不错了。试想一下，要是在北京的丰台一带搞一次旧书展卖，能是什么样子呢？相比之下，东京简直处处都是购书的天堂。&nbsp; &nbsp;由于这里比较偏僻，而且是展卖会的第二天，场内选书的人并不很多。在我选书期间，一直保持在不超过十个人的样子。&nbsp;一个多月过来，特别是最近连续几天跑下来，书瘾真是快过足了。我也不再先绕场一周，巡视是否有迫切需要的书，以便"抢购"，只是从头逐一看起。&nbsp; &nbsp;最先是主展场边上一小间屋里的几架最廉价的书，每百元三册，折合国币两元多一本，可谓奇廉。唯廉则廉矣，却基本上没什么想要的东西。最后看到一叠线装本，大多是明治、大正年间铅印的书籍，没有中意的内容。心想百元三册，当然只能如此，翻了两翻，正要离去，不意发现其中夹杂着一册大字刊本《古文孝经》。虽稍有蛀蚀渍污，却刻印俱佳，混在一大堆垃圾书当中，颇似鹤立鸡群一般。捧在手中，心头一喜，随之却又觉得似乎不大真实。同样的书在专门卖中国古书的旧书店里要卖一万日元上下，天下怎么会有这样便宜的事情？于是询之于书肆主人，答云一视同仁，并没有觉得它有什么不同凡俗的地方而需要青眼相看。喜出望外。本来花上一百元买下这一册书已经如同白捡，可是爱书的人似乎都有一种无限贪婪的欲望。既然每百元3册，为什么不另外再选两本书呢？结果又找到7册线装刻本《诗经》。与《古文孝经》加在一起8册，还需要再凑一本才成整数。正为每什么书可选而踌躇，忽然看到书架边有一8开大本英文原版泰晤士《世界地图集》。既然精刻本《孝经》都可以视同垃圾廉价甩卖，这种大路货自然更不足以值得珍惜。果然主人非常爽快而且高兴地加上这本地图，收了我三百日元，同时行礼如仪，表示感谢，我则因以廉价得到喜欢的书，从内心里向主人道了声谢。&nbsp; &nbsp;这本《古文孝经》从内容上看，当然没有什么特出的地方，我喜欢的只是它的版刻。书开版于日本嘉永庚戌（三年），值清道光三十年（公元1850年），由萨摩藩世子市河三亥手书上版，萨摩府学雕版颁行于藩府子弟（内封面题"萨摩府学藏板"，卷末钤"萨摩府学刊行"阳文长方朱印），"使其一以诵读，一以学字"。当时日本正处于锁国末期，对于中国文化还比较重视，故有此举。这时虽不断有英美等国舰只试探进入日本港口，各藩府尚一律予以拒绝。但紧接着就陆续允许各国船舶入境通商贸易，导致十几年后，明治维新，唯西学是崇，这类中国传统书籍，也就很少有人诵读了。&nbsp; &nbsp;此本极初印，墨色如漆。加之日本皮纸精良，可谓美轮美奂。版刻字作颜体，庄重谨饬，风骨岸然。民国十五年时，曹锟也曾刻过大字本《孝经》（所谓唐玄宗御注今文本），刊印也很精整，但字体呆板，与此相较，差之甚远。此本虽有日人训读汉籍所必需的训点，但汉字大而醒目，训点小而雅致，对于版面美观，并无多大影响，看上去依然清爽净洁。卷末刊有题识四字，曰"邨嘉平刻"。这应当就是后来帮助杨守敬刊刻《古逸丛书》的日本雕版高手木邨嘉平，"木"字略而未刻，不知是日本有此惯行用法，还是寓意于此"木"字已暗存于版木之中。检陈捷贻所著《杨守敬与宫诚一郎笔谈录》（刊东京大学中国哲学研究会编《中国哲学研究》第12号，1998年11月），知木邨嘉平大致逝世于明治十七年（清光绪十年，公元1884年）前后，虽不详木邨嘉平行年，但按一般情况推测，嘉永三年刊刻这部《古文孝经》时，应正值他年富力强的时候。这部《古文孝经》刊刻之精美，不亚于《古逸丛书》，可以看出当时木邨嘉平的雕版技艺，已经相当高超纯熟（另据陈捷撰文介绍，此木邨嘉平系日本雕版世家，且自祖上连续几代俱袭用"木邨嘉平"一名，所以此《古文孝经》也有可能出自其上一辈"木邨嘉平"之手，但无论如何，都应是这一家族的作品）。仅此日本版刻技艺史上的价值，即值得珍之重之，怎么能像现在这样弃如故纸呢？此番东行，无意间得到两部木邨嘉平刊刻的书籍（另一部是前此在京都得到的由木邨嘉平刻序的《橘门韵语》），或是木邨之灵冥冥中还维系着与中国文化的联系，因而赐福于我。&nbsp; &nbsp;《诗经》是嘉永己酉（清道光二十九年，公元1849年）大阪书林所刻，比上面所说的《古文孝经》早一年。书前有天明丙午（六年，值清乾隆五十一年，公元1786年）序，内封面题"嘉永己酉再刻，当是书坊据旧本翻刻。此书是日人以其国字解汉文典籍的《经典馀师》中的一部分，版刻虽远不及前述《古文孝经》，但刷印也不晚，其汉字正文字体模仿清前期之方体字，初看稍显呆滞，仔细揣摩，则别有一种厚重点韵味；而其训释内容，则汉字娟秀疏朗，假名洒脱飘逸，别具一种中国刻本所没有的韵味。虽是坊刻，亦颇不苟。欣赏书籍之美，需要静下来独自用心品味，去发现每一种书不同的美感。尾随时尚，人云亦云，即使觉得好，也不会有那种沁入肌肤的美感。&nbsp; &nbsp;这书美中不足的是缺了一册，实际上是个残本。买的时候就对全书装为7册有些犹豫，只是看到最后的第7册即卷七末尾附有版权页，就匆忙收下。在返回住所得电车上，才注意到原来少了最后一卷，即卷八。等回到住所后仔细一看，又发现卷末的版权页竟然是书商移花接木，从别的书上嫁接过来的。原来书前内封面上本镌有"大阪书林柳原藏板"字样，而卷末版权页上却首署"江户书林须原屋茂兵卫"，次题"大阪书林柏原屋清右兵卫"，均与所谓"柳原"毫无干系。看来这种以残充全的勾当，各国都是相同的（当然这是过去的书商所做的手脚，不是这次卖每百元三册的书商所为）。只是不知道日本书商是否受到了中国贾人的影响所致。 &nbsp;英文版泰晤士《世界地图集》看上去极便宜，其实是块很大的鸡肋。因为书太重，达5公斤，寄回国内需要近3，000日元，是书价的90倍。贪便宜往往如此。拣的时候很兴奋，拿到手里却常常很让人沮丧。虽然沮丧的原因不尽相同，但我想大多数赶书市大批往回兜书的人，或多或少都有过类似的体验。花300日元买下这几部便宜书之后，进入主展场又慢慢寻觅。一边读书，一边选书，总共三个小时，选出4册书。回到住所，已将近4点，稍慰饥肠，便坐下来一一品味大半天的收获。&nbsp; &nbsp;（1）《日本的城》（《日本の城》），鸟羽正雄著，创元社刊《创元选书》丛书中的一种，昭和十五年（1940年）7月初版，昭和十六年第四次印本（600日元）。&nbsp; &nbsp;买这书本来是为自己了解中国古代城市对周边国家的影响做参考，可这书却是由非专业人士写给专业以外的一般读者阅读的介绍性书籍，似乎有违初衷。实际上专业与非专业是相对的，若论研究中国古代城市，在一定程度上自己可以说属于专业人士，可对于日本古代城市的知识来说，却几乎一无所知，与一般读者没什么差别。这本书从历史角度概述日本城郭的发展过程、它的种类和构造等等，简要明了，其实很适合我的需要。至少目前正符合我的程度。&nbsp; &nbsp;古人讲人身修养之形成，需读万卷书，行万里路。而今盛行旅游，稍有文化的行游者，往往借用"行万里路"这句话，说出游是为了增广见闻以提高学识。其实学海无边而人生有涯，读万卷书与行万里路，要想两全其美，对于大多数人来说，恐怕只能梦寐求之，在现实生活中是很难做到的（明清之际的顾炎武，大致是做到读书、走路两得其美了，但他是盖世奇才，一般人恐怕不好随便相比）。退而求其次者，则只能依据个人的偏好和具体条件而取舍倾斜了。&nbsp; &nbsp;用不到一个钟点的时间，把这本书粗粗翻看一遍，我对日本古城已有了基本的了解。而去看古城遗址，不仅费时、费力、费钱，得到的知识也七零八落，不全面也怒系统。人类文化的积累，很大程度上就是书籍的累积。时至今日，已非司马迁之时代可比，任何人都不可能完全一一通过足履目验去直接获取知识。术有专精，业有分工，通过书籍间接获取知识，应当是最普遍地途径。至少我相信来日本参观古城址的中国人中，很少有人能够得到这样系统的知识。在这一点上，我是笃信百见不如一闻的。&nbsp; &nbsp;该书出版时，日本正处在举国疯狂的侵略战争状态中，所以书中颇有一些那个时代的不伦不类的胡话。这样战后一般也就不会重印了。这书在当时应当是一本商业性较强的非学术书籍，可是作者却有很强的学术意识。虽没有什么文彩可言，叙事却简练干净。要是现在出这种书，不知要缀加多少毫无必要的花样，增加几多篇幅。&nbsp; &nbsp;书系精装，封套白纸素底，上下两端，各缀有一道与蜡染布颜色相似的蓝色花纹图案，通贯封面、书脊与封底，上窄下宽，秉承中国典籍天头小、地脚大的古意。书名、作者、丛书名、出版社名，都用宋体端端正正居中排印。丛书名和出版社名分别靠近上下两端图案，颜色是与图案相同的蓝色；书名和作者却用紫红色。红、蓝两色，相互衬映，看上去颇有明清套印本的韵味。看似简单，却品位十足。看多了这种封面设计，时下花里胡梢的图书装幀，真是不值得一顾（这书封套里面硬纸板封面上的图案也很雅致，只是过去的藏书人把封套粘在了封面上，没法仔细欣赏封面设计）。&nbsp;（2）《中国人的生活景象》（《中国人の生活风景》），内山完造著，东方书店《东方选书》丛书中的一种，1979年6月初版首次印本（500日元）。&nbsp; &nbsp;可能与头脑简单，惯于直线式思维有关，对于书籍装幀，我总是偏爱简洁的风格。内山完造这本书的封套，是在浅米色的底色上，印上咖啡色的字，中间偏下缀加海蓝与深蓝相并的色带。封套内的封面，风格也大致相类。这在70年代以后日本的出版物中，应该算是相当简洁的了。书中每一章标题占一页，字很小，居左上角竖排；右下方对角位置上则缩印有一幅黑白版画，出自作者的弟弟内山嘉吉之手。画面平实近人，与50年代以前中国的黑白版画风格相近，很雅致，而且贴切书的内容。500日元一本，算不上怎么便宜。买下这本书，主要出自对内山先生的崇敬。至于这部书本身的吸引力，其装幀设计形式，至少不逊于书的内容。&nbsp; &nbsp;作者内山完造先生，因为与鲁迅先生的特殊交往，成为中国人熟知的朋友。他生前总共出版过12册关于中国的随笔集，战前6册，战后6册（另外还编集过两本同样内容的随笔）。这本书是在他身后主要从上述文集中选取编集而成，重点放在内山先生对于中国人生活观念的认识上。从1917年在上海开办内山书店时起，他就痛感当时日本学者单纯通过文献来研究"中国文化"与中国实际社会生活的隔膜，从而不间断地向日本介绍他通过自己与中国普通民众的共同生活而切身感受到的中国人的生活形态。&nbsp; &nbsp;内山完造和他的妻子都是虔诚的基督徒。他对于中国人和中国文化的认识，充满善意和理解，并洋溢着温馨的友情。除了基督教徒的爱心之外，我想更重要的还与他在中国取得的事业成功有很大关系。&nbsp; &nbsp;内山完造在中国的生活确实非常幸运。1917年他刚到上海开办内山书店时，仅携有此前四年间辛苦积攒下的240元现金，和一个装有80多册圣经、赞美诗等宗教书籍的废啤酒箱。

做学问需要具备某些条件，有时机遇也很重要，另外还可能有一些因素我们自己无法完全控制，但最重要的恐怕还是内在的动力。韩愈劝有志于学者，"无望其速成，无诱于势利"，听上去陈义甚高，可是说到最后，还是听从内心的召唤。学术不只是一项职业，也是一种生活方式。

大卫·哈维在《艺术论坛》（artforum）2009年11月的专题中就《大同世界》（2009年出版）与哈特和奈格里进行了争论。原文见：https://libcom.org/library/commonwealth-exchange. 译者：王行坤

马克思主义者对其他马克思主义者的批评之严厉是有目共睹的，他们要么扭曲对方的观点以证明自己的聪明，要么打出马克思学圈子之外的人闻所未闻的奥义般术语，并洋洋得意自以为获胜。有鉴于此，我们更要对哈维这个马克思主义同道对我们作品的细致阅读和真诚赞美而表示由衷的谢意。

本文为1999年汪晖先生应佩里·安德森教授的邀请访问洛杉矶并进行讨论的记录，而前半篇中着重探讨的所谓“新左派”与“新自由主义”之分歧仍在影响当下社会思想。

伊格尔顿在2010年文章中曾指出，大学和发达资本主义在根本上是无法调和的。