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在过去十多年中，围绕中国的变迁，中国的知识分子之间发生了激烈的争论，公共舆论再度活跃起来。安吉拉·帕斯古齐（Angela Pascucci）的这本书收录了十一篇她在中国所做的采访，访谈对象的职业、立场、社会角色和观点各不相同，他们从各自的角度呈现了当代中国社会正在经历的巨大的变迁、深刻的矛盾和各种未来的可能性。在当代西方有关中国的各种报道和分析中，这本书是独特的：经过实地的调查和采访，安吉拉最终选择了一种将倾听与分析综合起来的方式，一种通过呈现中国社会的内部视野向西方读者叙述中国的方式。

六十年前在上海的那些日子, 附：罗青评论.

在中央音乐学院附中成立二十五周年纪念大会上的讲话， 1982年六月一日。

2019年10月20日，中国当代艺术家黄永砯因病在法国巴黎逝世，享年65岁。2015年9月26日，蛇杖Ⅱ黄永砯国际巡回展于北京红砖美术馆开幕,此次展览由罗马21世纪当代艺术国立博物馆（MAXXI）艺术总监侯瀚如策划,清华大学教授汪晖、古根海姆博物馆东亚艺术策展人孟璐等参与研讨会

只要谈到现代中国的父亲问题，人们往往难以绕过鲁迅和弗洛伊德两个名字。

詹姆斯·洛温发现，美国课堂上使用的教科书都充斥着错误的信息和短视的见解。本书针对这一现象写作而成，它改变了我们与美国历史的关系。在书中，洛温详细剖析了美国现行的历史教科书，并对教科书中的谎言进行了细致入微的分析，展示了历史的生动性与复杂性。针对海伦·凯勒的叙述主要是把她去政治化了。

通过考察电影导演小津安二郎作品的特殊光晕（aura），解释他何以能够凭保守的姿态赢得普遍的赞美。希望在解读了小津电影的根本情节、主要色彩和精神结构后，能够回答这么一个问题：小津何以不再可能？

我们应该感谢希腊，西方世界不断向希腊放贷，哲学、民主主义、悲剧艺术，我们总是忘记悲剧与民主之间的联系，没有萨福克里斯就没有伯利克里，没有伯利克里就没有萨福克里斯。我们现代社会的科技都需要感谢希腊，希腊向当今世界要一万亿的版权都不足为过。

2009年8月22日在昆明的演讲。

湖北郭店一号楚墓出土有《老子》及儒家著述写本，引起国际的重视，到目前为止，已经有几次举行国际性的讨论会。规模最大的，要算今年（1999年）10月15一18日，在武汉大学珞珈山庄举行的研讨会，笔者有机会出席、接触到一些新发表的论文，复在编钟馆再作一次详细考察。归来之后，因草此文。

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。

中国政策制定者在1960年代中期必须面对两个问题。一个是如何创建高质量的教育系统，以此来提高人口素质，进而延长人均寿命并为经济的快速增长提供有技能的劳动力。第二则是教育公平。

安东尼·吉登斯无疑是当今世界最重要的思想家之一。在过去40年里，他所提出的一系列理论对世界产生了重要影响。2009年，吉登斯再出新著——《气候变化的政治》，并迅速在全球学术和政治界引起广泛关注。4月22日，正在英国从事学术访问的本报特约记者郭忠华，围绕“气候变化的 政治”这一主题对吉登斯进行了专访。 安东尼·吉登斯，1938年生，曾任伦敦经济学院院长。学术成就主要体现在以下几个方面：对以马克思、涂尔干、韦伯等为代表的经典社会学家思想的反思；对以结构主义、功能主义和解释社会学等为代表的现代社会学研究方法的反思；对社会学研究方法的重建，提出了著名的“结构化理论”；现代性理论范式的提出和现代性发展的反思；第三条道路等。目前主要研究全球化背景下英国和欧洲的政治发展。 理解气候变化的政治学意义 郭忠华：能否首先请您谈谈从事此项研究的背景。我们知道，当今世界面临着各种各样的问题，核武器、恐怖主义、生态灾难、克隆技术所带来的伦理问题等，某种程度上说，其中有些甚至比气候变暖更直接，您为何单独选择全球气候变暖问题作为研究对象，在您看来，它有何特殊的意义？ 吉登斯：的确，当今世界存在着许多问题，有些从表面上看似乎远比气候变化问题更加重要。实际上，我对这一问题的兴趣主要来源于一本书的主题，那就是《全球时代的欧洲》。在当今全球化时代，欧洲处于各种政策调整的领先位置，气候变化政策是其中极为重要的主题。那本书的写作使我思考欧洲与气候变化的关系。另一方面，也与我本人的学术研究有关。既然我已写作了有关全球化的主题，写作了有关风险的问题，写作了有关欧洲的问题，气候变化主题似乎是把所有这些主题串连在一起的问题。但是，当我真正着手研究这一主题的时候，令人吃惊的是，实际上并不是很多人探讨过这一主题。的确，科学家对这一主题进行过大量的讨论，对技术感兴趣的人们对这一主题进行过大量的讨论，生态主义者和国际组织也对这一主题论述良多。但我发现，他们实际上并没有真正明白气候变化的社会学意义和政治学意义。我的意思是，他们可能从科学的角度探讨过气候变化的问题，但迄今为止，没有从政治学的意义上探讨过气候变化问题。 这就是我给自己许下的抱负，要理解气候变化的政治学意义。《气候变化的政治》即源于此。它不是一本有关“气候变化”的著作，而是一本有关“气候变化的政治”的著作。 郭忠华：的确，气候变化问题的解决最终还是需要走上政治的日程，依赖于政府的推动。这一点我完全同意。但您为什么说在应对气候变化问题上存在着一种“吉登斯悖论”。您能否简单地概括一下“吉登斯悖论”的主要内容？ 吉登斯：“吉登斯悖论”主要指这样一种困境：气候变化问题尽管是一个结果非常严重的问题，但对于大多数公民来说，由于它们在日常生活中不可见、不直接，因此，在人们的日常生活计划中很少被纳入短期考虑的范围。悖论在于，一旦当气候变化的后果变得严重、可见和具体，例如，去年中国发生的大雪灾，它直接与气候变化有关，从实践的角度来看，一旦处于这样的情况，我们就不再有行动的余地了，因为一切都太晚了。相同的情形还出现在印度的气候变暖上。当然，我不是说我们现在就处于这样一种悖论中，我是说如果我们再不把气候变化问题有效地纳入政策议程，那真的将会出现这种悖论的情形。 郭忠华：针对“吉登斯悖论”，您提出了“气候变化的政治”概念框架，但这一框架涉及政治、经济、社会等诸多维度，请问您对这些概念是否具有一幅总体的图景或者蓝图？能否描述一下这一总体蓝图？ 吉登斯：我想这里面有两个最基本的概念：一个是“政治融合”，另一个是“经济融合”。首先从经济融合讲起吧。经济融合指的是将气候变化的政治与其他经济政策整合在一起，既获得经济上的竞争性，又获得技术革新的动力。在我看来，这是最关键的一种政策。对于政治融合来说情况也一样。不论是欧洲还是中国的煤炭工业，都具有同样的特征，它们都是化石燃料，都是高排放的工业，这种工业对于气候变化有着非常重要的影响。我们还可以以汽车为例，美国拥有世界上数量最多的汽车，汽车同样是全球气候变暖的最主要因素，而且数量众多的汽车看似给人们带来了很大的方便，但实际上还造成交通拥堵。在这种情况下，国家如果能够形成某种政策，发展高科技的公共交通，那么，它将不仅能够减少排放，而且还可以使交通变得顺畅，方便人们旅行。所以，政府把气候变化政策与公共交通政策融合在一起，不仅能够减少排放，而且还有助于制定长久的政策。气候变化政策尤其需要有长远的思维，因为在过去二三十年里，在“非管制化”（deregulation）的阶段，气候变化政策被搁置。我们现在需要有一种长远的思维，需要将政策“打包”在一起，以便使未来气候不至出现灾难性的结果，我们必须在国家、国际层面上将汽车等政策融合在一起。美国总统奥巴马说道，“等着瞧吧，我们将改变美国，我们将创造一种低碳经济，我们将改变经济的性质”。我想这是一种“管制的途径”（regulate approach）。我还可以说，欧盟采取的也是一种管制的方式。这种政策实际上更没有与一般的公民联系在一起。我们需要把所有的事情捆绑在一起，进行系统化的考虑，而不只是考虑我们应当如何来发展低碳技术，我们应当如何来减少化石燃料的使用，我们应当如何来发展风力发电。这些问题尽管重要，但把它们拆开来分析与把它们总合在一起进行系统化考虑，那是完全不同的事情。可以说，我在《气候变化的政治》中尽管提出了一系列的概念，我没有意思说这就够了，它们能够解决气候变化的问题，因为这里面的确是一个非常复杂的问题。 强化国家在应对气候方面的作用 郭忠华：“保证型国家”（ensuring state）在气候变化的政治框架有着非常重要的地位，而且您还谈到它不同于“赋权型国家”（enabling state），您能否简单谈谈这两个概念的区别？在气候变化的政治中，“保证型国家”主要发挥哪些功能？ 吉登斯：我在《全球时代的欧洲》一书中就曾经使用过“保证型国家”概念。我想，对于气候变化问题来说，赋权型国家是一个显得太弱的概念，它的含义是加强各种社会团体在解决集体问题上的能力，这些团体主要以一种自下而上的方式运作。我不否认，当代公民社会的确可以做很多的事情，他们有着各种各样的信息，在帮助老年人方面尤其可以发挥很大的作用，社会的自治实际上还是依赖于公民社会本身。但我不认为这个概念对于气候变化问题来说足够有力，因为它对于后果问题考虑得很少，它没有看到国家本身所具有的重要作用。气候变化是一个后果非常严重的问题，对这个问题国家当然不可能把事情全部做好，它依赖于与公民、与其他社会组织的合作。国家在这种合作中有着更重要的作用，它必须监督和检查，必须进行长远的策划，这些是公民社会本身所无法做到的事情。但是，保证型国家可以做到这些方面。保证型国家比赋权型国家更强，意思是它履行着更强的功能。例如，它有责任监督公共目标，并且以一种可见和可接受的方式实现这些目标。就拿当前的经济危机来说，保证型国家与赋权型国家的区别同样适用于这一问题。金融市场并不是一个能够自我管理的领域，这就要求国家能够从长远的角度对金融市场进行调节。在当今全球化时代，我们更需要的是一种保证型国家。当然，我没有意思说我们要迈向一种“自上而下”的体系，这种自上而下控制的政府在当代世界同样是不可能成功的。但是，我们的确需要某种实质性的国家调节，甚至是国家计划，尤其是在气候变化这一问题上。 郭忠华：的确，在应对气候变化方面，我们需要更加强化国家的作用。您认为环保主义的“预防原则”（precautionary principle）只看到风险的负面作用，而且您也一直强调，风险不完全是负面的，它还有积极的一面。具体到气候变化问题上来，您认为这种人为风险存在着何种积极的因素？ 吉登斯：“预防原则”之所以不可取，在于它的保守性，其内在的含义是“安全总比遗憾好”。在自然方面，这一原则要求不要干预自然，应当采取措施使自然免受潜在的威胁。问题在于，我们生活在这个地球上，怎么会不干预自然呢？如果把这一原则用在气候变暖问题上，它产生的是一种极坏的后果。好了，我们现在生活在一种全球气候变暖的条件下，但按照预防原则，我们不能采取任何干预措施，这不是反而造成危害了吗？在风险方面，预防原则只看到风险的一面，但问题在于，风险还有积极的一面。不论我们面临什么样的风险，危害有多么大，根据成本—收益原则计算，它总是具有积极的一面。因此，在我看来，我们必须用另一种“PP原则”取代生态主义的PP原则，那就是“百分比原则”。我的意思是，我们要根据成本—收益原则来分析各种风险，而不只是一味地预防。当然，在引入这种新的PP原则时，我们不但要普通大众广泛地参与讨论，而且还要认识到所有的风险估计都是情境性的，不是千篇一律、无比准确。 至于你说到的气候变化风险积极面，我想答案非常清楚。解决和防止气候变暖需要有新的技术，这会使环境技术取得进步。按照我刚才所说的“经济融合”和“政治融合”，为了解决气候变暖问题，气候变化政策与经济政策和其他公共政策融合在一起，这可以使经济获得新的增长点和动力，同时气候问题在以后也可以获得持久的解决。同样的道理还体现在人们的思想意识方面。这些都是气候变化风险可以产生的积极效果。 郭忠华：好，现在我们具体来谈谈您所提出的新PP原则，即“百分比原则”。在我看来，这一原则至少存在两大问题：一是气候变暖将会无限地延续下去，因为这一原则压根就没有从根本上解决气候变暖的意思。二是根据您早年对“行动未被认识到的条件”和“行动意外的后果”的强调，具体条件下的理性计算不可能是准确的。出于这种考虑，您能否具体谈谈百分比原则在公共政策领域中的操作设想。 吉登斯：你不能把“百分比原则”当做是一个具体的计算公式，同时，我也没有要为政府决策提供一个具体的、普遍适用的公式的意思。我的意思主要是一种思维方式，即在公共政策制定的过程中，总是要从这两个方面出发进行思考。它仅仅是一种原则，不是一种具有普遍适用的公式。你说得一点都没有错，没有认识到的条件，行动的意外后果，它们都是政策执行过程中必然产生作用的因素，有时候它们产生良性的作用，有时候则是负面的作用，但这不妨碍把百分比原则作为一种指导思想来使用，因为如果不这样，我们可能根本就无法行动。 促进经济政策和气候变化政策的整合 郭忠华：关于“发展规范”（development imperative）的问题，您强调的是发展中国家必须拥有经济发展的权利，哪怕是这种发展在短时间内极大地提高了排放和温室效应。但在我看来，这种发展路径至少造成两方面的严重后果：一是发展中国家成为全球气候变暖的主要促进者；二是使发展中国家以后的气候变坏，治理成本增高。因此，您能否具体谈谈发展规范与气候变化之间的关系呢？ 吉登斯：发展中国家显然不能走发达国家已经走过的老路，它们要以我们前面已经谈到过的经济融合和政治融合的方式谋求发展。发展规范原则主要指发展中国家具有经济上取得发展的权利，经济发展是解决发展中国家贫穷的唯一可行之路。没有经济发展，也就不可能使这些国家的气候问题最终得到解决，尽管就目前而言，发达国家仍然是全球气候变暖的主要造成者。发展中国家在谋求经济发展的时候，可能会比目前造成更多的排放，这要从两个方面来看，一是这些国家在发展，它们的经济总量在增加。一个经济停滞的国家当然排放会低。另一方面，这些国家的经济发展会是解决其气候变暖问题的基础。因此我说，发展规范在气候变化的政治中具有重要的地位，并且说哪怕这一发展过程在短时间内造成了温室气体的提高，都要谋求贫困国家的发展。 但是，发展中国家目前已经形成了某种协作机制，尤其是在科技协作方面， 12月份的哥本哈根会议上也许会取得某些成就。当然，发展中国家在谋求发展的时候，还是必须注意要从一开始就把经济政策和气候变化政策整合在一起，这可能又回到了我们刚才讨论的经济融合问题上来了。融合是一种理想的类型。例如，中国目前的发展速度的确很快，但是，我也强烈建议它必须充分考虑这种融合。如果从我们的文明的可持续性角度来考虑，我们要发展的也必须是那些低碳经济，促进低碳技术的发展。我很希望看到，在工业化的下一个阶段，中国成为低碳技术的先锋。在这方面，韩国倒是一个先锋，这不是说韩国的科技比中国发达，或者说比中国具有更多的资源，实际上这个非常不幸的国家，是一个造成了环境巨大破坏的国家。但是，韩国突然发生了巨大的转变。我希望这种情况也会突然出现在中国，尤其是在地方层面。中央政府良好的政策目标，在经过层层官僚制过滤之后，不会变成地方经济或者GDP的考虑，而是注意其他一些更加无形、更加惠及子孙后代的气候和环境问题。当然，要改变这种情况不容易，这里也没有什么简单或者普遍的先例可循，但却是必须考虑的问题。其实，现在中国的发展就已经出现了很大的问题，如北京出现了令人吃惊的肺病数量和汽车拥堵等。发展所导致的功能紊乱（disfunction）在中国已经变得非常突出。 在政治上积极适应气候变化带来的问题 郭忠华：“前摄适应“（proactive adaptation）概念似乎在气候变化的政治框架中有着极为重要的地位，从某种程度来说，本书所有内容都可以看做是对气候变化的“适应”。但您早期似乎对“适应”一词非常厌恶，甚至要把“适应”概念从社会科学的词汇表中彻底删除。您现在为什么反过来如此强调“适应”概念了呢？这两者之间是否存在某种差别？ 吉登斯：这是一个非常重要的概念，因为“吉登斯悖论”就针对这一背景。气候变化的政治概念框架所涉及的大部分概念都既适用于“适应”，也适用于“减轻”的情形。前摄适应的含义在于，认识到气候变化问题在未来不可避免地会变得更加严重，我们在采取措施减少气候变化的同时，还必须在政治上积极去适应由此将带来的问题。前摄适应要求以一种长远的思维考虑未来气候变化将给我们带来的后果，从而积极采取预防的措施。除气候变化外，积极适应措施可能也适用于其他方面。例如，在住房建设方面，我们可以建立低能源消耗的住房，这种住房在屋顶和正面都安装大阳能面板，使之能充分地利用太阳能，减少化石燃料的使用，同时有效地减少火灾。政府在长远政策规划和资金安排上必须充分考虑这些方面。对于未来十到十五年的潜在风险，政府必须在今天就着手进行预防，尽可能限制可能出现的风险。以中国为例，成千上万人的生活依赖于河流，那么，中国政府可以建设更多的水电站以防止水灾频发的问题，这对于中国来说或许还是非常重要的一个问题。前摄适应的含义在于不是等到风险已经出现以后才着手应对，而是必须有超前和长远的思维，尽早着手，建立相应的责任机制。这一点在应对未来的极端天气状况方面非常必要。 我所使用的“适应”概念与进化论中的“适应”完全不同。后者指人类个体如何适应其生存环境，气候变化政治中的“适应”则更强调技术创新的含义。前者完全忽视了人类个体的能动性，把个体的生活看做与其他动物一样，是一种对自然环境的适应活动。我们都知道，人类生活实际上并非如此。行动者具有自己的目的，能够按照自身的目的去改造其生存环境，而不仅仅是“适应”。我在气候变化的政治中使用“适应”这一概念，实际上出于两种理由：一是“适应”在有关气候变化的文献中已经得到广泛的使用，的确，你已经无法抛弃这一概念而另创其他概念。另一方面，我所使用的“适应”不像进化论那样，忽视人类个体的能动性，而是非常强调超前思维和主动应对，就像我刚刚讲前摄适应时所强调的那样。适应可以划分为两种情形：一是事后适应，二是对未来的适应。从我对概念的使用你就可以知道，前摄适应指的是后一种情形，进化论的“适应”则基本上指的是前一种情形。 郭忠华：最后我还想请您谈谈对于中国的看法，您认为在处理全球气候变暖问题上中国应当扮演什么样的角色？ 吉登斯：我希望中国在世界舞台上能够扮演一个更负责任的角色，作为平等的一员，与美国、欧盟携手并肩，制定更加透明的生态政策，认识到只有这样才是对世界社会的未来作出贡献。但讲句实话，天知道这些愿望如何才能得到实现。但是，正如我在《气候变化的政治》一书的最后一章所说的那样，世界社会最后说不定变成了“索马里”，各个国家围绕着资源在进行你死我活的争夺。你经常可以看到，各次峰会，实际上是围绕着非洲等地的丰富资源在进行争夺，世界各主要国家或者国家集团则是其中的主角。这也正是我致力于主张“协调政策”的缘故，中国领导人应当承担起更多的责任。

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。

　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”。

还有的地方，王彬彬毫不掩饰地指黑为白，指鹿为马。例如，汪晖在《反抗绝望》第68页对列文森《梁启超与中国近代思想》（四川人民出版社，1986年版）第46页的引用，已有"列文森：《梁启超与中国近代思想》，第46页"的注释，而且其中并无"参见"二字。即使此处没有用引号标注所引词句，也只是稍与现在的习惯不合而已，王彬彬则有胆量说，"读者应该已经笑起来了！"，认为这是"对勒文森的剽袭"!

如果说王彬彬将"参见"式注释诬为"抄袭"，还戴了白手套；那么，睁眼瞎说《反抗绝望》忽视鲁迅与梁启超的差别，就是斯文尽失了。其实就在王彬彬指为"抄袭"但实际上已注出处的一句话（第二章第二节第一段中的"这种文化引入包括四部分内容：变更需要、变更榜样、变更思想、变更理由"）[13]之后，汪晖即论述了鲁迅的不同之处。

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。

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

艺术以同样的方式设定了人的肉体和精神的存在，然而艺术作品却从未关注过人对它的回应。从来没有哪一首诗是为它的读者而作的，从来没有哪一幅画是为观赏家而画的，也从没有哪首交响乐是为听众而谱写的。