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尽管希腊科学传统的影响至关重要，但阿拉伯科学绝不仅仅是希腊科学知识的展厅。现存最早的科学资料表明，翻译运动与伊斯兰世界的科学研究是同时进行的，前者并不是后者的先决条件。活跃的穆斯林社会和政治体的实际社会、政治需求，以及理论的和学术的需要，激发和孕育了一场系统性的翻译运动，对后来穆斯林世界科学文化的发展产生了深远的影响。

2011年9月21日，凤凰网对话上海大学文化研究系教授王晓明。1993年6月，尚在华东师范大学中文系任教的王晓明教授，在《上海文学》发表《文学和人文精神的危机》，随之在全国引起一场持续三年的"人文精神大讨论"。时隔20年，王晓明重新探讨今日中国人精神危机与社会群体焦虑。今天，中国经济发展迅速，GDP不断增加，人们物质生活实现了一定程度的富足，然而国人并不幸福，也并未在精神上得到满足。反而呈现出群体痛苦、压抑、迷茫、焦躁、极端，与此同时，社会也陷入诚信缺失、道德败坏、缺乏底线的危机。社会焦虑背后深层原因是什么？在王晓明看来，这不是新的问题，早在上世纪90年代初就已经埋下伏笔，只是当时被发展经济和增加物质财富的理想暂时掩盖。当摆脱贫困的焦虑摆脱，这种焦虑便开始显现。王晓明分析对现在对未来的不确定，日益拉大的贫富差距，官场、大学与传媒风气日下对社会风气的破坏，都是社会焦虑产生的原因，当"社会上制度和人心两个层面，都不再发挥使社会成为有机体的作用，人与人之间只是利益的平衡"，社会焦虑相伴而来。如何从根本上摆脱社会群体焦虑？王晓明提出从制度和人心两个方面入手。一方面政治改革要推进，但还应该找回社会的精神基础、精神认同。 对话嘉宾：王晓明，上海大学文化研究系教授、博士生导师、中国当代文化研究中心主任。"人文精神大讨论"发起者。著有《刺丛里的求索》、《无法直面的人生》、《半张脸的神话》、《在思想与文学之间》、《近视与远望》等。对话主持：陈芳 袁训会 焦虑是因为社会普遍没有方向主持人：目前中国处在社会转型期，经济发展迅速，但国人却日益表现出群体焦虑，无论是官员还是民众，无论是富人还是穷人。当下中国人的焦虑感来自哪里？因为什么而焦虑？王晓明：主要是对中国的现实和未来没有信心。不知道社会以后会怎么样，因此也就不知道自己究竟该怎么过日子。中国现在有非常多的人，程度不同地处在这种状态里，即便按照流行风气鼓励的那样，天天对自己说：管他呢，过好自己的小日子就行了，他实际上还是心里不踏实，许多事情都不敢深想：这样的人一多，群体的焦虑就出现了。那些有钱有权的人，可以逃到外国去，实际上许多人已经将子女送出去了，但普通老百姓没办法，只能生活在这个不知道明天后天大后天会怎么样的中国的现实中。朝野上下，如此大面积地丧失对未来的确信，没有方向，不知道国家应该往哪里走，这种情况，辛亥以来好像是第一次吧。辛亥革命之后，曾有一段时间大家很失望，鲁迅说，民国以后我还是当奴隶，而且是奴隶的奴隶。但很快就有了各种新的思路--其中不少是辛亥革命以前就有了基础，到这时候发扬光大的：三民主义、社会主义、马克思列宁主义，等等等等。各路人马也都照着自己理想的方向奋斗。1927年国民政府统一全国，1949年中共领导建立中华人民共和国，都是有明确的奋斗目标，也都能不同程度地聚成社会共识。1979年前后，政治民主、文化开放、经济发展、摆脱贫困...... 各种不同层面的要求汇聚到"改革"二字下面，形成新一轮社会共识。即便1989年之后，政治改革不行了，许多理想不能谈了，大家都转向经济发展、冰箱彩电汽车房子了，好歹也还算有一个大致的方向，尽管它是那么狭隘、靠不住。主持人：今天，我们在物质上实现了一定的富裕，人们生活也得到了很大的改善，为什么老百姓却更加焦虑？王晓明：今天大多数人的物质生活，跟二十年前相比确实有较大改善，当然，也同时丧失了很多别的东西--这个今天先不讲，但也正因为这样，原先被掩盖的事情就暴露出来了：1980年代，当那个包含许多层面的"改革"不断受挫、令人沮丧的时候，我们今天共同困惑的这个"不知道该往哪儿去"的问题，其实就已经形成了，只不过当时大家看不到。1989年以后被动地形成的那个全民都盯着物质生活看的局面，更把这个问题给盖住了。但今天，物质贫困的压力稍一缓解，那个大问题就露出来了。这不是新的问题，只是今天被大家普遍感觉到了而已。 巨大的贫富差距也是社会焦虑的重要原因主持人：中国这100年，一直在追求一个强国梦。今天，中国在某种程度上实现了富强，但普通国民并没有随着生活水平的改善而充分享受到国家崛起的成果和荣誉感，深层原因是什么？王晓明：这要稍微多说两句。首先，辛亥革命前后中国人的理想是很大的，绝非只是国家的富强，在当时许多人的思想里，国家富强只是第一步，接下来更重要的，是把中国建设成为一个文明的社会，而且这个文明的中国要发挥作用，让世界也变得文明起来。当时那种帝国主义列强肆意压迫弱小国家的局面，是中国现代知识分子不能接受的，他们把这个看成是"野蛮世界"，希望以后强大了的中国，能推动整个世界，脱离这种"野蛮"状态。其次，他们当时讲的"富强"，也绝非只是指钱多。作为一个完整的目标，"富强"必定包括许多不能用GDP或者"经济总量"来代表的方面，比如科技创新力、国民素质、政治清明、社会凝聚力...... 照这样的标准来看，中国今天是不是已经"富强"了，我觉得不见得。我们现在能说的，只是GDP的总数值很高、钱很多。可在晚清时候，中国被列强欺负得一塌糊涂，那时的中国钱也不少，GDP也不低，至少比日本高许多啊！   再次，我们今天虽然钱是多了，但社会财富的分配太倾斜了，几乎各方面都是赢家通吃。这三点是互相关联，而且关联得很紧密的，今天社会之所以弄得如此赢家通吃，那种凡事都从物质功利着眼、将社会和国家目标缩小为只是GDP、"经济总量"的政治和思想风气，就是一个非常重要的原因。主持人：不换寡而患不均，对普通人来说，最直接的感受是不平衡，不公平，这也可能是焦虑的重要原因。王晓明：对，中国的经济走到今天，不同阶层之间的贫富差距，对社会人心的刺激，的确是越来越大于单个阶层的收入的今昔对比。这些年有许多不同的数据，汇总起来看，少数人占有这么大比例的财富，早的不说，至少1949年以来，现在是最严重的时候吧。这结果，就是几乎每个人--当然，那些挥金如土的新富人可以除外--都觉得自己的经济压力很大。尤其是人数众多的较低收入的群体，尽管其中许多人的收入也有提高，但这个提高的喜悦，远远赶不上他们发现那些有钱人捞得太多太多时的愤怒。中国的社会腐败是从官场蔓延出来的主持人：记得您曾说过，当人们把眼光转向现实社会之后，很自然地会引发对制度性因素的关注，比如政府的责任，宪政问题，产权问题和经济体制，您觉得这几个因素对社会群体焦虑有着怎样的影响？王晓明：当我们理解社会的时候，"制度"通常和"人心"相对而言。就中国来说，成文的制度固然重要，但各种"不成文法"往往更起作用。在许多时候，这两者之间差别很大，比如今天，如果单看宪法，许多条文都很好，没有问题，如果这些条文所规定的制度能够有效运作，许多严重的问题是不应该出现的。可这些问题就是出现了，这就说明，我们的现实其实是按照另外一些规则在运行的，写在纸上的多半是虚文，实际生活中碰到的那些不成文法，才是真正的制度所在。身为中国人，我们对这些都很清楚，即便一个小学生，他也明白，广播里的声音和黑板报上的文字，与班级里的实际情况是两回事。为什么在一套看上去还行的成文制度的框架里，实际上却形成了另一套在许多方面简直是与成文相反的不成文法？一旦如此深究"制度"，就必然要碰到人和"人心"的问题了......主持人：在您这里，人心是比较重要的概念。人心是怎么一步一步变坏？王晓明：对中国的"人心"影响最大的，当然是官场。秦以后，中国基本上都是中央集权，皇权也就因此具有道德象征的功能，朝廷里的风气，通常对整个社会人心有极大影响。今天也是一样，年轻人为了考公务员打破头，虽说对政府的民怨日多，一般人实际上还是将官场看得很重的，官场风气对社会风气的引领作用，实际上依然很大。官员不撒谎，社会有诚信。如果弄到一看见政府文告、官员说话，大家就本能地怀疑他没说实话，一定是在为了政绩、官位而掩盖事实、歪曲真相，那中国社会要建设诚信的风气，恐怕也就很难了。从这个意义上说，今天中国的社会腐败，首先是从官场蔓延出来的。第二个重要因素就是教育。"青春年华"本身就是一种向善的力量，如果我们的学校教育搞得好，不是两眼向钱看，而是开阔学生的视野和胸襟，那就能帮助青年人在精神上打下一个比较好的底子，即便社会上风气很坏，他踏上社会后难免受影响，但他心里也会有抵抗，至少能变得慢一点。可现在，非常糟糕，大学里的风气几乎和社会上一样，也开口闭口就是钱......第三是传媒。我们今天许多传媒的不成器，有体制束缚和官场风气污染的原因，也有市场化和商业化方面的原因：广告大客户影响甚至操控媒体的力量，现在是越来越大了。如果官场、学校和传媒，都在往这样的方向上去影响社会，中国的"人心"当然要出问题了。主持人：人心变坏与市场经济有没有关系，市场经济一定会导致道德的滑坡吗？王晓明：社会发展到一定程度，就会有市场，几千来年，人类一直有很大一部分生活是跟市场有关的，但并不因此就一定人心败坏。资本主义兴起以后，情况有所不同，资本主义兴起之前的市场，通常范围比较小，许多市场行为，也不都是为了资本增值，能稳定地维持生计，就可以了。但资本主义不同，它是要不断扩大再生产的，它的逻辑是一切都应该拿来为资本增值服务，它更大力推广那种"经济应该永远不断增长"的迷信...... 一旦这些东西扩散到全世界，被大家广泛接受，无论是不是民选政府，都将"发展经济"列为第一目标，无论当老师还是当医生，都觉得人活着就是要多挣钱，那就确实会在很大程度上影响人心，让人越来越短视和狭隘。但即便如此，如果政府、学校、传媒、宗教等等，能从不同的方面制衡这种资本主义市场的扩张，那社会和人心还是能保持大体平衡，不会全变成名利场。我们现在的问题是，中国特色的资本主义市场的逻辑在中国太肆无忌惮了，官场、学校、传媒，都不同程度地按照这个市场的逻辑来运转。我有时甚至觉得，从实质上看，一些官场或准官场的市场化，是比其他地方更彻底的。如果官员之间、师生之间、传媒人和受众之间，社会的各个方面，都是利益交换，几乎没有别的约束，就一个资本主义的市场独大，"人心"怎么可能会好？主持人：孙立平教授针对中国当下情况，提出过中国社会正在加速走向溃败，您怎么看社会溃败论，您觉得当下对中国社会威胁最大的是什么？王晓明：辛亥革命之前，有人曾经用这么两个词形容中国未来可能的状况：一个是"瓦解"，中国被掰成几块，但每一块本身大体还完整，还能提起来；另外一个叫"鱼烂"，这是更糟了，腐烂的鱼是提不起来的，提任何一块，整条都会散掉。当时许多人最担心的，就是这个鱼烂。孙先生讲的"溃败"，我觉得跟"鱼烂"的意思差不多，是指在制度和人心两个层面，都不再存在所谓"有机体"，实际上都是一盘散沙，除了短暂的利益平衡，没有别的关系能将大家联起来。人与人、群体与群体、阶层与阶层......没有共同的追求，没有认同感，没有共同关心的问题，甚至不觉得有共同的利益！到这一步，真是问题大了。 变革寄希望于政治制度改革与重振人心主持人：社会群体焦虑加剧，民众试图去改变，或改良或激进，但都遭到非常强大的阻力。阻力来自哪里？您曾讲过中国现在有一个新的阶级在快速崛起，掌握着特别多的经济资源，同时又染指政治和文化资源，这股力量对人们的焦虑和社会的破坏是怎么样的？王晓明：怎样描述和分析这个新的阶级，是今天中国社会科学的一大课题。有人用"官家资产阶级"之类的概念，意思是官僚与新资本家的混合，这大体不错，但还可以补充一点，就是一部分文化人--通常都有教授头衔--也参与其中，分一杯羹。所谓赢家通吃，主要就是这个三合一的新阶级在通吃。你说的抵制社会改革的阻力，主要也是来自这个新阶级。主持人：怎么才能从根本上消除焦虑并重塑人心？王晓明：晚清时许多人也讨论过类似的问题。那时的中国危机深重，而危机的最主要的症状，就是"人心"坏了，消极放弃的情绪非常浓厚，可是，要改变中国，又只能从人入手，这似乎是一个悖论。怎么打破这个悖论？当时的知识分子和革命家提出了很多不同的方案，身体力行，今天回过头去看，你不能不佩服，就是靠了那些人的前仆后继，硬是打破了这个悖论，推翻满清、辛亥革命、新文化运动...... 为中国开出一个新局面！虽然此后的历史依然坎坷，新局面毕竟是开出来了。从某个角度看，今天似乎又遇到了当年那样的难题：如何打破"有什么用啊？""搞不好了！"的消极气氛，振奋人心，重启制度和整个社会的真正改革？和那时候一样，今天也有许多可选的方案，应该从各方面一齐努力。身为大学教师，我觉得学校教育特别重要，别的不说，几乎所有的官员，都是在中学和大学--小学更不必说--念过书的，学校课堂上的气氛、课本和黑板上的内容，都是对人有长远影响的。如今社会的上上下下，对学校教育的评价越来越低，学校里的人，也都怨声载道。可是，光这么抱怨，意思不大，如何在现有的政治条件下，在一间一间的教室里，一节课一节地教好课，一个一个学生地认真对待？这才是我们这些当教师的人，应该特别下力气去做的。当然应该持续地批评那些大的问题，但同时，也得一步一步实地去做，比如，当严厉指斥学校的"官本位"的时候，我们就该从自己开始，在走廊里遇见校长院长了，不要再像契诃夫笔下的小公务员那样，毕恭毕敬地称官衔："某校长"、"某院长"...... 这当然只是细节，但是，只有能落实为无数细节上的改进，总体的进步才能站稳。主持人：有一种观点认为中国30多年来的合法性就来源于高速的经济增长，每当社会焦虑加剧时，就拼命增长，并以维稳为重，但结果是越维稳越不稳，焦虑不断出现。您怎么看中国这种发展逻辑？政府应该怎么改变？王晓明：你说得对，这些年不断膨胀的社会大厦，确实是靠经济增长这一根大柱子维持着的，不是说完全没有别的支柱，但都很细，有的更差不多完全断了。这确实危险，因为经济不可能一直这么增长下去，更何况目前这种高能耗、高材耗、因此必然高污染的增长方式，社会和生态的成本都太高，后患很大。至于高压式的"维稳"，更只能有一时之效，如果以为这样就能长治久安，那是笑话了。从一些政策看，你会觉得中国现在没有什么真正的"发展"逻辑，实际上起作用的，好像是一种拖延和回避的逻辑：总是绕开难题，把其实已经很严重了的问题，尽可能往后推。这实际上还是短视，而短视是一定要付代价的，就好像生病一样，必须要治，拖延只会更麻烦。要说官场的风气坏，这种只图眼前--实质是个人或少数人的--安稳、置国家和社会的隐患、深患于不顾的心思，正是其中之一大端。因此，首先要改变的，是这一种不负责任的拖延苟安之心，这一条改了，才可能真正从大处和长远着眼，探索适合国情的长远之计。主持人：台湾通过宪政民主的方式来实现，您觉得这种路径对大陆有没有借鉴意义？王晓明：其实这也是晚清和辛亥前后多次争论过的一个老问题。当年孙中山改组国民党，原因之一，就是觉得在当时那种条件下，宋教仁他们指望的议会斗争、宪政民主的道路走不通。后来改走革命党-党军-党国这一条路，从效果上看，确实有效，中国翻天覆地。可是，革命胜利以后，革命党如何避免腐败堕落，成为反革命党，这方面的问题一直没有解决好。今天之所以重提宪政民主，主要也就是因为这个原因吧。目前来看，中国在这个事情上大概还要走一段艰难摸索的路，没有什么现成的方案。但有一点可以肯定，无论什么方案，政治改革必须要向前推进。当然，这里的"政治"，不只是说，要发展或创造一个民主的、能有效为人民服务的政治制度，还包括要建设一个可以给社会充当稳固的精神基础的、丰富的、有反思的公共价值认同。制度与人心，从来就是互相作用的，一头做不好，另外一头不可能做好。比方说，如果没有大批有理想、有责任心、肯苦干的官员，就是订出了再好的方案，也没有用。因此，制度改革和人心进步，必须齐头并进、互相促进，才能在比较深的社会层面上，扎实地推进政治进步。现在说起来都觉得问题一大堆，但我们也要看到事情的另外一面：其一，改革和进步都是被逼出来的，形势比人强，现在社会普遍焦虑，觉得问题已经摆在那里，拖延不过去，这本身就是一种很大的精神能量，其积极的一面不可小看。其二，这30年间，社会在经济以外的一些方面，也有不小的进步，比如互联网，和由此造成的新的公共舆论。有人说围观改变中国，如果不把这个改变理解得太窄，我觉得是有可能的。其三，现在的年轻人，多在社会经济和物质生活持续改善的环境中长大，昔日那种因为物质匮乏、政治斗争激烈而造成的人心之恶，在他们身上比较少，他们可能冷漠一点，软弱一些，但心肠应该比较良善，至少我年轻时常见的那种主动挖一个坑、陷害别人的事情，大概一般不会做。也许我这是不了解情况的乱说，我的意思是，在一些方面，年轻人比我们这一代人强。因此，我觉得对未来应该有信心。至少那种"有什么用啊？"的消极情绪，是没有什么道理的。今天我们所做的事情是不是有效，我们自己其实是无从判断的，那要以后的人才能定。鲁迅有一句话说得特别好：不能一定要有人给你打了保票，这才"雄赳赳地去革命"。尽管我们不知道结果会怎样，但只要认为应该做，就去做。甚至不妨反过来说：只要做了，就一定有用，哪怕眼下一时看不到。 2010年9月30日根据陈芳的录音整理稿改定

在布朗案过去近半个世纪后，耶鲁大学法学院教授杰克·巴尔金（Jack Balkin）自己当起了首席大法官，召集了包括凯斯·桑斯坦（Cass Sunstein）、布鲁斯·阿克曼（Bruce Ackerman）、约翰·哈特·伊利（John Hart Ely）和麦金农（Catharine A. MacKinnon）在内的八位顶尖宪法学者组成了一个模拟的最高法院。他们的任务只有一个：重写著名的布朗案判决。当九位大法官把各自撰写的意见汇集到一起时，人们却意外地发现与五十年前那份9比0全体一致的意见不同，在这其中居然出现了一份异议。而更加令人意外的是，这唯一的一份异议竟出自这个模拟最高法院中唯一的黑人教授——德里克·贝尔（Derrick Bell）。

希望台湾批判的学术思想界能够认识自身的第三世界历史属性，期许中国大陆知识界不要丢弃第三世界的属性与思想资源，要保留第三世界想像的香火，扩大我们极为狭窄的知识对象，使得他者与自我能够更为开放、多元。

本文是为《现代中国思想的兴起》日文本（简本）所写的序言，该书即将由岩波书店出版。

从世界历史来看，改制共和的问题非常复杂，即便要思考这个问题也非常艰难。媒体人喜欢用未经审视的"普世价值"口号唤醒人民，由于一些博士或教授也成了媒体人，这类似是而非的口号也笼罩着我们的大学课堂。在座各位谁都不会否认，大学与传媒不同，大学要讲究学理地思考。

德国的现代建筑是一部批判的历史，充满矛盾性与复杂性。现代建筑面临几大困境：现代化的同质化力量与民族特性的矛盾，也就是现代化的普适价值与民族传统的矛盾；大规模工业时代国家机器的权力扩张与欧洲城市传统的矛盾；工业化与高度理性化组织所导致的城市生活方式，引起人们对农业、田园生活方式的强烈怀旧；开放社会差异性和多元化跟社会主义平等理想和集体主义的矛盾。和其他的欧洲国家一样，德国政治精英不断地试图发明新的民族与国家传统来解决这些矛盾和实现意识形态的控制。 柏林就是一个很好的空间范本。从1870年成为统一的德意志民族国家的首都，开始现代化的加速进程，到两次工业化的大规模世界大战，再到战后东西柏林的分裂，柏林的空间也随之变化。 1789年法国大革命以后，新古典主义的演变很大程度上与适应资产阶级社会对新机构与民族国家的需要紧密相关，代表了新兴共和国的崛起，在资产阶级帝国风格的形成中发挥了重要作用。在德国，这种趋势首先体现在卡尔·哥特哈德·朗汉斯(Carl Gotthard Langhans)的勃兰登堡门和弗里德里希·吉利(Friedrich Gilly)在1797年设计建立的弗里德里希大帝纪念碑。他们模仿严谨的陶立克风格，这与德国文学上"狂飙突进"运动的"古朴"文风相对应。同时代的弗里德里希·崴恩布莱纳(Friedrich Weinbrenner)设计了一种斯巴达式的，有高度道德观的建筑，以此来歌颂理想普鲁士国家的信念。他设想在莱比锡广场上建一座纪念性的"人造卫城"。这一圣地从波茨坦方向通向一座矮胖的、饰有双轮战车的凯旋门走进来。 普鲁士最有影响力的浪漫古典主义建筑师是卡尔·弗里德里希·申克尔。浪漫古典主义致力于形式本身的外貌特点，以使建筑更有表现力，主要体现在博物馆、图书馆、宫殿等建筑类型上。1815年拿破仑战败以后，这种浪漫主义被表现普鲁士民族主义凯旋的需要大大冲淡。政治上的理想主义和军功武威结合在一起，导致古典主义的再现。申克尔以这种风格创作了柏林的新警卫局（1816年），宫廷剧院(Opera)（1821年）和老博物馆(Altes Museum)。老博物馆取材于《演讲集》中的博物馆原型平面，将其劈为两半，改动中保留了中间的穹顶、柱廊和内院，取消了侧翼。博物馆采用了宽台阶、柱廊和屋顶上象征普鲁士国家文化影响的鹰和狄俄斯库里(Dioscuri),创立了一种精致而有力的空间组合，宽大的列柱围廊形成通向窄门廊的通道，门廊中有一座对称的入口楼梯和夹层。 新古典主义兴起的同时，欧洲的城市空间也发生了巨大的变化。18-19世纪被工业革命席卷的欧洲城市发展呈现两个特点。第一，大规模工业生产、人口增长与新型交通工具的发展，使城市人口高度集中。随之而来的是城市居住环境的恶化。贫民窟、廉价的庇护所出现；卫生设施与排水排污系统的落后导致疾病肆虐，首先是肺结核，然后是霍乱。第二，政府对大城市的整体管理与控制力大大加强，权力的集中促使了国家行政官僚体系的建立。在卫生工作改革中，政府当局通过一系列法规，包括英国1848年的《公共健康法》与豪斯曼(Haussmann)1853年至1870年巴黎改建期间的一系列条款，从法律上规定了地方当局对污水排放、垃圾堆集、供水道路、屠宰厂检查等负责。政府行政权力的加强也体现在城市规划上，特别是通过街道规划切割划分现有的城市结构。1806年建成的李沃利大街采纳了摄政街建筑模式，成为第二帝国时代巴黎布景式街道立面。艺术家规划提出了林荫大道(Allee)的规划方针，成为拿破仑三世时代巴黎改建的主要措施。 建于1831年的柏林老博物馆，二战中被毁 柏林的土地所有权在1840年至1990年经历了持续不断的公有化或国有化。1830年之前，柏林是一个选帝侯的都城。从19世纪30年代起，普鲁士开始强大，并希望把普鲁士的首都变为一个"世界城市"。但是与同一时期的其他欧洲城市相比，由于普鲁士政府没有通过交通规划、纪念性建筑以及城市卫生、居住条件的现代化等方式介入到城市中，因此国家政权在首都城市的建设上困难重重。1846年，旧柏林1,100块地产中，仅有45块属于公有。直至1875年，占据市中心，权限最大的仍然是地方政府管理机构。1875年至1914年，普鲁士统一德国后，虽然有了大量的金融机构，但是要建设一个高度艺术性的首都城市中心，仍然必须由国家参与才可能解决经费问题。当时的柏林仍然掌握在市政府中，因此对城市的改建产生了负面的影响。城市规划者既难以采取能够满足车流量需求的交通建设措施，也没能修建足够的购物街与城市广场。纵观当时欧洲的大都会，随着城市人口增长，拓宽街道、大规模拆毁建筑、城市居住条件的现代化，无一不与国家及早的介入有关。 在柏林，这种空间的变化也极为明显。一战与二战的大规模破坏为国家的介入与柏林的新建提供了条件。1874年至1922年，德国颁布了一系列没收私有财产的法律。第三帝国时期，已有196块地产属于公有。格鲁那街(Grunerstraße)和墨尔肯市场(Molkenmarkt)被联结起来；卡尔-李布克内西大街(Karl-Liebknecht-Straße)被打通，与普伦兹劳尔林荫大道(Prenzlauer Allee)相接；威森桥(Waisenbrücke)被拆除，铺设了电车轨道，改建了穆伦大街(Mühlendamm)，仿建了尼古拉历史区(Nikolaiviertel)。至此，柏林确立了国家(Staat)-州(Land)-市(Stadt)-区（Kommune)的三层权力空间。1949年10月，盟军占领时期的柏林有2/3被公有化。1949年民主德国成立后，以前市政府的规划权转移到中央政府手中。民主德国时期的东柏林有162块地产被收归国有，仅占总面积的1/3。因此，事实上并不存在东德政府"激进的"产权转变。二战后东柏林的市中心建设是柏林历史的延续，是120年城市现代化进程的继续。 现代化所引起的文化与精神危机在建筑中也得到了充分的体现。未来派对机械速度的激情赞美，对爱国主义的歌颂，对几何学和数字理性的崇拜，以及对战争的爱好，在建筑纲领上体现为要求毁灭各种学院机制，"吸取科学和技术的每一种成就把建筑结构提高到一个理性的水平上"。与此同时，也出现了对工业文明的批判。这不仅体现在英国田园城市所表现出的对宁静乡村生活的怀念，也出现了梦想回归到前工业时代的社会理想。 工业化和城市化以来，城市工人阶级的住宅问题一直是欧洲建筑师和各种社会学、规划学、建筑学理论关注的核心为题。包豪斯具有深刻的社会主义理想。正如在1919年魏玛包豪斯宣言中所说，"让我们建立一个崭新的行会，其中工匠和艺术家互不相轻，亦无等级隔阂"，包豪斯是建立在社会主义式大教堂的理想之上的，其车间则是建造大教堂的工匠之家。面对战后经济的萧条，包豪斯的任务是找到简朴的形式以满足生活的要求，同时做到高雅和真实。 20年代，包豪斯的左倾使其与新客观派的立场越来越接近。新客观派强调"最低限度的生存"。一方面摒弃装饰，刻意打破舒适的感觉；另一方面以极简的设计和极省的空间来降低造价。最具有代表性的人物是瓦尔特·格鲁皮乌斯(Walter Gropius)。1927年，格鲁皮乌斯从包豪斯辞职之后，更加置身于对住宅问题的研究。他除了在德骚、卡尔斯鲁尔和柏林设计并亲自督建大量低造价住宅之外，还在理论上关心住宅标准的改善及社区居民点中无等级体系的住宅街坊的发展。1920年后期，他的观点处于社会民主立场。这一点在1929年的论文《最低限度住宅的社会学基础》中表露得最清楚。文章中他提出了以国家干预来提供住房的社会主义观点："因为工艺学的实现受工业与财政羁绊，也因为任何降低成本的措施首先要能为私人企业的盈利所利用，因此在住宅建筑中，只有在政府通过增加福利措施从而提高私人企业对住宅建造的兴趣之后，才可能提供较便宜多样的住宅。 1933年，国家社会主义工人党（纳粹党）攫取政权之后，现代运动的理性主义路线立即消逝。功能主义手法的现代建筑被否定为世界主义的和堕落的，除非是为了满足高效率工业生产和工厂福利的需要。纳粹党在试图把国家社会主义表现为体现德国命运的英雄的同时，还希望满足公众对心理安全的希望，并对一个遭受工业化战争、通货膨胀和政治骚乱后，传统社会分崩离析的世界提供安抚。这种二重性反映了渗透在现代运动历史中的意识形态分歧--存在于工业生产中功利主义的、普适性的标准与基督教的、回复到农业手工业经济的根深蒂固价值观之间的对立。对于前者，纳粹党转向黑格尔哲学和申克尔建筑中的极权国家与开明普鲁士文化；对于后者，他们回复到有关德意志民众的神话，也就是普鲁士爱国者F.L.杨(F.L.Jahn)在1806年提出的反西方迷信。 在《农民是北欧种族的生命渊源》一书中，理查·沃特·达雷(Richard Walter Darre)提出了"血和土壤"(soil and blood)的文化，鼓吹回复到土地去。他扮演了发展国家社会主义的反城市的、种族主义的思想意识的重要角色。这成为1933年在纳粹党赞助下建造故乡风格(Heimatstil)或乡土住宅的理论基础。国家资助的住宅从魏玛共和国的立方形平顶屋突然转变为第三帝国的坡屋顶形式。当时的艾尔弗雷德罗森堡(Alfred Rosenberg)的文化战线--"为德意志文化战斗联盟"，通过批判工业城市化及农业经济的毁灭，明确了对现代文化发动总攻击的战场。在联盟看来，农业聚居点不仅是爱国主义的据点，而且是纯洁的北欧种族的理想生活环境。 "血与土"的住宅建筑虽然是适用于成批建造，但是很难代表千年帝国的神话。为此，纳粹党利用了申克尔的古典主义遗产。1933年至20世纪40年代希特勒的私人建筑师阿尔贝特斯佩尔(Albert Speer)有效地把简化的申克尔式传统版本作为国家的代表风格。从保罗·路德维希·特鲁斯特(Paul Ludwig Troost)把慕尼黑打扮成"党的首都"，到斯佩尔在纳粹党鼎盛时期的布景式作品--纽伦堡泽泼林菲尔德体育场，占统治地位的都是古典主义。只有当那些巨大的布景式作品被用于群众的大型集会时，才会产生对浪漫古典主义的净化。 为了体现豪华壮丽的风格，斯佩尔在他自称为"冰制大教堂"中专门为1935年柏林举行的滕博尔豪夫(Tempelhof，位于柏林市西)设计了由旗杆和探照灯组成的假柱。在戈培尔的指示下，这种露天剧场成了灌输纳粹意识的场地：第一次，"作为艺术作品的国家"可以输送到无线电和电影这些群众宣传介质中去。勒尼·里芬施塔尔(Leni Riefenstahl)关于1934年纽伦堡示威的纪录片《意志的胜利》，第一次使布景式建筑成为电影宣传的一种服务手段。泽泼林菲尔德的建筑则使用承重砖石结构，以保证它能够成为一个"伟大的废墟"，这种"废墟法则"不允许采用任何金属配件。 二战结束后，柏林分裂。东柏林的斯大林大街修建于1949年至1961年间，历时12年。它穿过亚历山大广场，直至波兰登堡门90米宽的中轴线。市中心位于施潘道(Spandauer)大街和施普雷河（Spree）之间的建筑统一采取了"人民的房子"的风格。刚成立不久的东德政府在柏林弗里德里希海恩(Friedrichshain)与市中心(Mitte)间修建了这条纪念性的社会主义大街，是战后重建东德的旗舰工程。大街近2公里长，89米宽，由六位建筑师设计，包括给工人的宽敞豪华的公寓，以及商店、咖啡馆、宾馆、巨大的电影院与体育馆。建筑一律8层高，接受了苏联社会主义建筑的风格。建筑立面也运用了申克尔(Karl Friedrich Schinkel)的柏林传统古典风格。1953年6月17日，建筑工人聚集在斯大林大街，游行抗议东德政府，很快蔓延为全国的运动。苏联派出坦克与军队镇压了抗议运动，至少125人丧生。这条街后来成为东德每年5月阅兵式的场所，迈着正步的军队与坦克驶过广场，成为展示东德政府光荣与强大的橱窗。建筑师菲利普·约翰逊(Philip Johnson)称赞它为"真正意义上的大规模城市规划"，阿尔多·罗西(Aldo Rossi)称其为"欧洲最后一条伟大的街道"。 1949年12月7日，随着民主德国的建立，在建设上急需大规模地改变城市结构，因此必须和原有的"总体建设方案"有所区别。德国统一社会党总书记瓦尔特·乌布利希(Walter Ulbricht)对建筑有浓厚的兴趣。1949年斯大林70岁生日之际，乌布利希和市长艾伯特去莫斯科详细了解了苏联的城市建设和建筑政策。他们受到启发，要在这个领域贯彻权力的诉求。乌尔布里希特因此力荐在苏联工作过的建筑师库尔特·李布克内希(Kurt Liebknecht)。在苏联工作期间，他作为建设部城市建设与高层建筑机构的带头人，对德国建筑产生了极大的影响。在很多场合与磋商会议上，中央政府向柏林市政府清楚地声明，柏林的重建不应该只是市、区政府的任务，而应该由中央政府来负责。1950年4月至5月，建设部部长洛塔尔·波尔茨, 德国国家民主党率领一个"学习代表团"赴苏联莫斯科考察。在苏联建筑师的帮助下，形成了1950年9月6日的《德意志民主共和国城市与德国的首都柏林城市建设法》，以及同年9月15日颁布的十六点基本原则。这些原则构成1950年8月23日《柏林新设计的基本原则》的基础。在这些原则上，同年9月26日颁布《民主德国城市和德国首都（柏林）建设法》。民主德国建立后，德国社会统一党成为执政党。这是柏林作为德国首都建设的政治基础。同时，东德国内必须抵制对俄罗斯形式主义和世界主义的指责。 1950年8月27日，在市政府与国务院的联席会议上，确定了柏林设计方案，并通过了建设图草案。在这一草案中，斯大林大街是主干道的一部分，穿越亚历山大广场到达勃兰登堡门。历史上终止于宫殿的东西轴和发端于菩提树下大街的西-东走向的轴线平行。这个方案早在20世纪20年代就提出过。时任德国建筑学院院长的李布克内希(Liebknecht)着手负责"为新的德国建筑而奋斗"的工作。他反对包豪斯风格和一战后的"新客观性"，要求回归建筑艺术的古典遗产。 1950年秋，统一社会党的政治局决定举办一次斯大林大街斯特劳斯伯格(Strausberger)至华沙街(Warschauer Straße)路段的城市规划概念竞赛，裁判团建议由所有的获奖者合作设计一种新的建设方案。合作的结果是1951年9月的"松脂树方案"，集体设计的方案出台后，由六位建筑师分段负责实施，短短两年内，这个大约容纳3000所住户的巨大建筑工程主体已经完成。1953年，就华沙街十字路口的设计举行了一次内部竞赛，亨赛尔曼以其巴别尔塔的设计方案获奖。1956年，法兰克福门广场和霍普设计的普洛斯考尔(Proskauer)大街完工。完工的斯大林大街具有鲜明的社会主义现实主义的特点。 斯大林逝世后，赫鲁晓夫公开批评斯大林主义。在1954年社会主义阵营建筑大会上，他表达了尖锐的建筑批评。这对当时已经陷入经济困境的东德产生了极大的影响。1955年4月举行的第一次建筑大会提出了建筑方式工业化的目标，也就是综合运用类型工程（大规模的预制板工业生产方式），以降低建筑成本和缩短施工时间。东德建筑由此转向"更好、更快、更经济"的工业建筑。1953年，亨赛尔曼就任总建筑师和副市长，他所面临的工作重点是向亚历山大广场扩建斯大林大街，最初他采用的是相同的形式语言。由于缺乏相应的建筑技术在多层预制工程上实现原先建筑的风格与尺度，斯大林大街的扩建工程被一再拖延。1957年12月30日，大柏林社会统一党第十一次代表会议决定，1958年必须实现斯大林大街的扩建，亨赛尔曼必须尽快拿出解决方案。 1958年4月，亚历山大广场周边的建设方案展示出严格的几何式的、开放城市的结构。路两边对称有序地分布八层高的板楼。斯大林大街把该区分为两个独立的居住区，其中有四层高的学校、幼儿园和购物中心。经市长与统一社会党区长同意，这一设计概念发表在1958年6月7日的《新德国》日报上。在电台广播中，弗里德里希艾伯特评论道："如此大规模的居住区建设，使用的是统一的技术和工业建筑方式，根据类型预制，这还是第一次。"德国建筑学院、建设部和德国统一社会党中央委员会认为这种建筑是对他们统治要求的威胁。那些信奉斯大林主义的人批评它为："斯大林大街的中断，无政府主义的居住区，苟同于汉萨区。"技术上的局限性，使得所有的设计草图都采用相同的矩形公式化建筑体块。街道空间被八至十层的住房或者商场填满。由于使用了大板房的桁架技术，先前被禁止的"开放城市结构"得到了贯彻，城市不得不重新回到现代性。 1959年至1965年间，东柏林紧随苏联之后建成了"社会主义"的居住区。1961年斯大林大街更名为卡尔·马克思大街。事实上，经过五十年代以来不断变更的规划，现代性在60年代又不得不在东德首都复燃。现代性在东柏林的巅峰是1967年的亚历山大广场，广场的设计高度同质化。空旷的广场虽然满足了市民对宽敞空间的要求，却无法满足城市规划师与建筑师疏散堵塞的交通的愿望，也达不到政府的意图。首都的中心充满了各种符号--民族建筑，现代性以及渗透在尼古拉区和根达门市场(Gendarmenmarkt)中的后现代性。 今天的马克思大街 东德存在的历史只有40年。在这40年中，它始终在"创新"和"传统"之间钟摆似的反复变动。第二次世界大战结束后，刚成立不久的东德政府转向"民族传统的建筑"，以历史上形成的高密度城市为指导。这一概念的提出，强调地区性和民族性的符号。"莫斯科之旅"后形成的《城市建设的十六点基本原则》废除了《雅典宪章》中提出的城市"绿地"的概念。这意味着以城市景观而不是花园景观为导向，以汽车交通为扩建的主要考虑因素的规划思想得到确立。这一概念深受苏联专家的影响，从经济、文化、社会心理以及政治等多个角度，试图回复到着重历史保护的城市去，要求建筑师和规划师必须尊重历史上形成的城市脉络，把空间-社会条件作为城市轮廓的基础。在建筑上，力求延续地区性的传统。然而，几乎是在同一时间段，东德出现了完全相反的审美取向。这一过程在20世纪60年代与西方阵营在文化与价值观的较量中得以强化，也包括发展生产力的较量和消费的竞争。尽管菩提树下大街西段和整个亚历山大广场都贯彻了大城市的规划思想，但是场所的传统却完全没有在功能上得以体现。通过新的、异域的、异己的元素，含蓄地表达了"文雅"的语汇。 在新经济制度社会改革工程的背景下，建筑的语言转向工业-客观性。通过中央集权、官僚体制的宏观调控和理性化，新的制度完全实现了现代化。然而这个时候，文化层面的解释系统出现了特殊问题：追求纯数量上的增长，最终不就会导致道统一的"世界工业社会"吗？如果是这样，共产主义解放人类、建立大同世界的目标不是陷入困境了吗？这个问题在东德社会中引起了广泛的讨论，产生了爆炸式的影响。为了与其他宣扬减少社会差异的不同理论流派相区别，为了与单纯通过技术发展而促进社会进步的理论相抗衡，从60年代开始，人的自我实现，也就是每个人通过合理地占有自然资源以获得个人自由发展的讨论，成为东德知识分子的话题。 20世纪60年代后期，话语体系中出现的解释危机促使城市社会学作为独立的学科迅速兴起。而直到50年代，城市社会学还被视为"资产阶级的科学"。社会学家必须调查研究人们为什么对自由和美有迫切地要求，而这些似乎是通过建立在私有产权基础上的物质消费和财产得以实现的。社会学家面临的困境，是当下人们迫切需求的财富与纯粹理性目标之间的矛盾。他们很快得出结论，实现人类解放不可能通过自上而下地分配商品和服务来实现，而必须通过使人们实实在在地参与到和他们的生活场所紧密相关的生活中来实现。在后资本主义城市中，要把主观性重新容纳进社会中，促进身体之间与空间之间的交流。在这个意义上，城镇显然是比国家更好的场所。 巴洛克式的透视结构以数学线把空间组织起来，契合了新资本主义通过领土与市场扩张追逐金钱与权力的利益。新古典主义的普鲁士民族主义适应了新兴资产阶级建立统一民族国家的要求。急速的城市化进程，以交通为导向的街道规划，公共卫生系统的建立等，都使得国家与官僚行政的权力扩张到社会与城市空间中，并加速了城市土地公有化的进程。同时，大规模工业化、同质化的现代化进程，促使民族国家在意识形态和文化领域创造发明新的传统。反对西方普适价值观（以个人主义为出发点的城市价值观）的新传统一度与系统化的强力国家、社会主义理想和机器崇拜相结合的，产生了纳粹德国。当这一套逻辑上具有一致性的意识形态瓦解后，民主德国再度面临重建德意志民族国家的任务。 东德政府建立之初面临的首要问题，是在重塑民族国家的同时，表明社会主义国家的政治立场。因此，在意识形态上摒弃现代国际主义的和受苏维埃影响的包豪斯建筑。与此同时，斯大林统治时期的苏联对东德从制度到文化上都产生了巨大的影响。德国国内对"民族传统"的强调，在一定程度上是对这一影响的回应。50年代后期至60年代初，斯大林逝世和赫鲁晓夫对他的批判，以及东德经济建设的困难和社会矛盾的激化，使得东德不得不重新回到工业化的现代化进程上去。60年代后期，现代化以来工业社会根深蒂固的矛盾爆发。高度现代化、理性化的强大国家机器，以及工业化生产所导致的同质化与社会个体多元性之间的冲突，现代化进程与传统文化认同的矛盾，国家与社会空间的冲突，都在建筑纲领的左右摇摆与最终的多元化风格上得以体现。这种矛盾并非是东德一国所面临的矛盾，而是所有工业化民族国家从现代化以来就一直面临的矛盾。 东德政府建设的充满后现代风格的根达门市场 与以往的一般认识不同，东德时期柏林的建筑并非是单调划一的，柏林的建筑体现出超乎想象的多元化。国家空间在柏林逐渐退却，城市空间复兴。在意识形态和文化层面上，民主德国的失败在于它始终未能建立起自恰的抽象话语体系来应对自现代化工业社会内部的矛盾。在走向后现代的过程中，伴随着社会中个人对系统性强大秩序的反叛，它的国家意识形态也随之消解。德意志的城市传统再度复兴，压缩和瓦解了靠高压维持的国家空间。高度工业化的社会主义东德与发展中国家建设社会主义所面临的问题并不完全相同。第二次世界大战后东德的政治进程并不是民主化或者权威主义衰弱的进程，而是个人主义对严格的、理性化的秩序的反叛与秩序的消解。  

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 

本文初稿曾刊《燕京学报》第十六期。其后获见英法所藏若干新材料，用将旧稿整理重写一过。一九四○年五月向达谨记于昆明。

1872年12月24日，《申报》第一次报道"Christmas"时只说它是"耶稣诞日"，在次年的报道中则称之为"西国冬至"。20世纪20年代以后，"圣诞节"才成为较为固定的中文节名。吴承仕认为，"圣诞节"这三个字是染着中国这个弱小民族的血写成的，换言之，耶稣圣诞节也象征着中华民族所遭受的压迫。

　半年在海南,为海南省文联主席的职务尽责；半年在湖南汨罗乡下,和三亩地里的动植物相处,韩少功的生活,被分成了这“著名”的两块。在讲座和专访中,他也从文学说到自己的生活,说到全中国的“大师焦虑症”和“文化大跃进”。

我们不同意於龙女士的，最终还是在於她虽然在区域间说话，但并没有促进区域间的对话，反而以一种吊诡的修辞，增设了区域间的壁垒。

台灣的問題從來不是台灣的問題而已，而台獨的問題歸根究底是中國的問題。

贾樟柯说用《二十四城记》记录的主题是变迁。

中国古代在春秋战国时，有“君子之泽，五世而斩”之说，秦汉以后也有世家大族在政治上占统治地位的时代，如东汉末袁绍一家……

差序格局是中国宪政模式的物质基础，是中国宪法实践和理论思考的立足点。反定型化是82宪法时代的改革策略。中国改革在相当长的时间内包含并且包容着参差多态的地方模式，这种地方试验主义的宪法允许由下而上的因地制宜的制度创新和政策试验。在此基础上，中国宪政作为一种政治整合机制，必须自觉地保持共识的未完全理论化

“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。”

漫长的20世纪是阿锐基对资本主义数百年的扩张历史作的描述，相对于布罗代尔“漫长的十六世纪”和霍布斯鲍姆“漫长的十九世纪”，“漫长”意味着观念上的实际，而非时间上的世纪。黄平、姚洋、韩毓海的谈话把20世纪中国也放在这个过程中考察，试图推翻一些成见，提醒读者一些以往被忽略的方面。

革命运动的胜利是所有革命的必要条件。但我认为很难将49年的解放视为革命的终结，因为其后还发生了大规模的革命性变迁：全国范围的“土地改革”，几近全国耕地面积43%的土地被再分配，作为阶级的地主和富农也同时被消灭；随后发生从53年到57年的“社会主义改造”运动，国有化了几乎全部的城市私有财产，集体化了几乎全部的农村私有财产；以及在大跃进失败后的短暂的革命退潮后，出现在66年到76年的无产阶级文化大革命，这个运动的目的是全力铲除旧传统，建立一种全新的革命文化。

那天，正在街头自由行走着，一位大嫂级的报贩走近，问买报看么？新出的《南方周末》，写重庆打黑的，陈明亮执行死刑了，原来是个好人哩。我们几位中有几位觉得这报贩也真会逗人，这样卖报，估计会有收益，因为她可以将黑的说成白的，未见得报纸上就这样写了。但我们还是接了一份报纸过来，且漫不经心地看了起来。确实在A4版的头条位置发现了一篇写陈明亮的文章，题目是《末路大哥》，还配有陈明亮穿着号子里衣服的照片。文章占了A4、A5两大版。这是我们所见过的重庆打黑以来所有案件占幅最大的一篇报道，自然也有趣味读将起来。