文章 - - wen.org.cn - 文章列表 - 普通

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。

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 

　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”。

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。

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。

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。

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。

2009年8月22日在昆明的演讲。

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。

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？

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。

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

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。

六十年前在上海的那些日子, 附：罗青评论.

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。

作者对两个发展路径的重大历史意义进行了思考：尼赫鲁的国家主导计划的发展和毛泽东的社会主义是否成为了两国资本主义的先导，从而开启了两个曾经的亚洲大国重返全球资本主义博弈，并大大改观了参与的条件。

孟登迎 赵文 译一我在60－70年所写的那篇有关意识形态国家机器的文本，通常被认为是一篇"功能主义"的东西。人们在我的理论草稿中看到了这样一种尝试，我所理解的马克思主义仅仅用各种功能来解释社会机构，这样一来直接使得社会等同于履行着镇压功能的意识形态机构，因而局限于一种非辩证的解释，其深层逻辑就是排除一切阶级斗争的可能性。但是我认为，人们没能对我那篇东西的最后一部分给予充分的注意，那部分明确指出了我的分析的"抽象"特征，而且也明确地把我有关阶级斗争的概念摆在了一个中心位置。实际上我们可以说，马克思意识形态理论能够得到发展的本质，就在于坚持阶级斗争相对于国家机器和各种意识形态国家机器的作用及功能的优先性--与任何功能主义都不调和的优先性。因为我们显然不能认为统治阶级对社会的意识形态"控制"体系--也就是说统治阶级的舆论效果（"统治阶级的意识形态"，马克思语）--就是一个简单的既定事实，就是只由那些机构所限定的一个体系，能够自动复制同一阶级的强制规则或体现有着由其功能规定的一定目标的这个阶级的明确阶级意识。因为占统治地位的意识形态从来都不是阶级斗争的既成事实，从来都不可能摆脱阶级斗争本身对它的影响。占统治地位的意识形态存在于意识形态国家机器（AIE）的复杂体系之中，它本身是漫长而艰苦的阶级斗争的结果，资产阶级（仅以它为例）只有在这场斗争中满足一个双重条件才能实现它自己的目的，即它一方面要战胜残留在旧有国家机器之中的先前占支配地位的意识形态，另一方面同时要战胜寻求着自己的组织形式和斗争形式的新的被压迫阶级的意识形态。资产阶级借以成功建立对先前地主贵族的和对工人阶级的领导权的这种意识形态，不仅仅是通过对这两个阶级的外在斗争，而且--并且同时--也是通过克服资产阶级内部派系矛盾并把资产阶级团结为统治阶级的内部斗争才确立下来的。我们必须在这个意义上理解占统治地位的意识形态的再生产。从形式上来看，统治阶级必须生产它的存在的物质条件、政治条件和意识形态条件（存在就意味着再生产）。但占统治地位的意识形态的再生产可并非单纯的复制，并非简单再生产，甚至也不是一劳永逸地被其自身功能确定下来的既有机构的自动的、机械的扩大再生产，它毋宁是一种斗争，争取让早先的、散碎而矛盾的意识形态要素在一整体中统一并复兴起来--而这个整体恰恰是通过对先前意识形态形式和新意识形态趋向的阶级斗争才得来的。统治阶级意识形态再生产的这场斗争是场永无完结的斗争，总是不断重新开始，在任何时候都服从于阶级斗争。占统治地位的意识形态的统一过程总是"未完成的"、总是"必须重新开始"，这么说有几个原因。不仅因为先前统治阶级的意识形态和意识形态国家机器尚有残余，竭其所能疯狂抵抗（列宁称之为"习惯"）。不仅出于形成统治阶级团结的实际必要，这种团结一则是阶级各派系（商业资本、工业资本、金融资本）矛盾熔合所必需，一则是在个别资本家的"特殊利益"之上表述他们"普遍（阶级）利益"所必需。不仅因为阶级斗争必须发动来反对正在出现的被统治阶级的意识形态形式。不仅因为生产方式的历史转变迫使占统治地位的意识形态要不断"适应"阶级斗争（古典资产阶级的法学意识形态目前正被专家治国论的意识形态替代）。而且还因为实践具有物质性和多样性，由之而来的"自发的"意识形态必须被不断整合。这一庞大而矛盾的任务从未彻底完成过，而我们也怀疑让葛兰西和克罗齐形成了乌托邦理念的那种"伦理国家"模型是否会存在。正如阶级斗争永不会熄灭一样，统治阶级争取使既有意识形态要素及形式统一起来的斗争也不会熄灭。这就是说，占统治地位的意识形态--即便它就是自己的功能--永远无法彻底克服它自身的矛盾，这些矛盾是阶级斗争的一种反映。我们因而可以由阶级斗争对占统治地位的意识形态和意识形态国家机器的优先性这个论点得出另一个论点，后者是前者的直接结果：意识形态国家机器必然是阶级斗争的场所和实际诉求，使决定着社会结构配置的一般阶级斗争在占统治地位的意识形态机器中延续下去。如果说AIE（意识形态国家机器）的作用就是推行占统治地位的意识形态，那么之所以如此恰恰是因为存在着抵抗；如果说存在着抵抗，那么之所以如此恰恰是因为存在着斗争，而且这斗争归根到底都是阶级斗争直接或间接的、有时近但更多时是远的回响。68年五月事件生动地说明了这个事实，并且让直到那时为止一直喑哑无声并被压抑着的一种斗争变得可见。但这些事件在以造反形式在意识形态国家机器里（特别是在学校机器里，继而是在医疗机器里，在建筑这种机器里）让一种直接的阶级斗争变得可见的同时，也多少模糊了那个决定了眼前这些事件的根本，即占统治地位的意识形态的历史构成和矛盾再生产所固有的阶级斗争特征。没人从这个真正意义上的历史和政治视角"体验过"68年五月。所以，我想必须提醒一下人们，如果你要理解意识形态国家机器里阶级斗争的真相，并且把造反控制在合适的范围，那么你就得采用"再生产的观点"，这个观点把阶级斗争视为一个总体过程，而不把它理解为个别对抗的总合或局限在这个或那个"领域"（经济、政治、意识形态）的对抗；这个观点把它理解为一个历史过程而不是压制或直接反抗引发的一系列事件的结果。在提醒人们注意这些观点的时候，我发现，我被指责为"功能主义者"，或被指责说对促生了我们的阶级斗争的上层建筑和意识形态做了有利于有关此类过程的机械观的"系统的理论"解释，这的确是难于理解的。 二针对我的其他一些反对意见与政党，首先是与革命政党的特性有关。简言之，有一些人总是倾向于认为我有这么一种思想，即把每一个个别政党都视为一种意识形态国家机器，而这将使每个政党彻底被封死在意识形态国家机器的"体系"之中，服从这一"体系"的规律，因而排除了体系中革命政党的一切可能性。如果所有政党自身都是AIE，都服从占统治地位的意识形态，那么革命政党，被化约为它的"功能"的革命政党，就是不可想象的。然而，我从没写过一个政党就是一个意识形态国家机器。可我说过完全不同的话（非常简单，我得承认），那是说政党只是一个特殊意识形态国家机器即政治的意识形态国家机器的"组成部分"，这么说吧，这些组成部分在统治阶级的"宪法政体"（最高法院、旧制度君主政体等等之下的"基本法"，"自由主义"阶段的资产阶级之下的代议制政体）中"实现"统治阶级的政治意识形态。我所提出的概念应该从政治的意识形态国家机器角度去理解，我怀疑有人没能正确领会这一点。要更好的理解它，你就得把政治的意识形态国家机器和（镇压性）国家机器仔细地区分开来。（镇压性）国家机器的整体即便是充满矛盾的，也仍旧要比意识形态国家机器总体强大得多，那么（镇压性）国家机器是由什么构成的？国家机器包括国家元首、政府、行政部门（作为执行的工具）、军队、警察、司法系统、法院及其附属机构（监狱等）。在这个整体中，我们必须区分出我称之为国家政治机器的东西，其中包括三个方面：国家元首，国家元首直接向其说话的政府（目前在法国和其他许多国家中存在的政体）和行政部门（它贯彻政府的政策）。国家元首代表了统治阶级的意志和团结，其所代表的这种权威能够保证资产阶级的普遍利益高于该阶级个别成员或个别集团的特殊利益。吉斯卡尔•德斯坦（Giscard d'Estaing）在78年大选时一再从良心出发表明自己的立场并大谈左派将如何当政，但实际上还是坚持必须"保卫法国的自由"，也就是资产阶级的那些自由。政府（目前直接由国家元首领导）执行统治阶级的政策，下辖于政府的行政部门具体贯彻这些政策。对我们来说重要的是，通过这一表明了国家政治机器存在的区分，看到行政部门也是其中的组成部分，即便它被为"共同利益"服务和履行"公共服务"的职能这种意识形态包裹着。这里不存在个人意图，也没有例外：行政部门的职能和资产阶级政府的政策即阶级政策具有完全不可分离的一致性。高级行政部门被委以执行具体政策的重任，因而就扮演了直接的政治角色，而行政部门的整体就开始日益承担起分区控制（quadrillage）的职能。行政部门如果不同时被委以对个体或群体执行情况进行监督的职责--或将那些拒不服从的个体、群体移交镇压部门或对之进行起诉的职责--它就无贯彻资产阶级政府的政策。国家政治机器（国家元首、政府、行政部门）是（镇压性）国家机器的一部分，这样理解的时候，就有可能将它合法地在国家机器中区分出来。现在我们触及到了这个关键的部分：我们必须在国家政治机器（国家元首、政府、行政部门）和政治的意识形态国家机器之间作出区分。前者属于（镇压性）国家机器，而后者属于意识形态国家机器。政治的意识形态国家机器这个术语让我们听到了什么？一定社会形态的"政治制度"或"体制"。比方说，和所有同时代的资本主义国家内的资产阶级相似，法国资产阶级即便在阶级斗争的危急形势下创造过别的政体（波拿巴一世和波拿巴二世，君主立宪，贝当的法西斯政体），但总地来讲它只承认议会代表的政治体系，这种政体通过一种政治的意识形态国家机器而实现资产阶级意识形态。  这种AIE可以是一种对"人民意志"进行代表的特殊模式，"人民意志"由选出的（或多或少具有普遍代表性和直接投票权的）议会成员代表，他们对由国家元首或议会指定的政府的政策进行问责。然而众所周知，政府de facto［事实上］掌握着数量大得惊人的手段来错误地解释并规避责任（这样一来资产阶级在这个机器中占有优势地位）；这些手段从一开始就昭然若揭，除了一些适度的胁迫方式以及对大众媒体的控制，还有伪造所谓的普遍代表性和直接投票权，再就是诉诸现代议会规则（人口普查机制、禁止妇女和青年参与选举、不同层次的投票权、有着不同选举基础的两院制、"分"权、对革命政党的权利剥夺，等等）。这就是事实的真相。但是，我们之所以可以说"政治制度"是一种"意识形态国家机器"是由于有别于这"特定"真相的虚构，正是由于这虚构，这个制度的组成部分以及它运作模式的规则，其基础就是有关投票个体的"自由"与"平等"的意识形态，就是"构成"人民的个体对人民代表的"自由选择"--它尤其借助这样一种理念，即每个个体为了自己所创造的政治也就是国家要履行的政治。正是在这一虚构的基础上（而国家政治归根到底是由阶级斗争中统治阶级的利益决定的），"政党"才得以组建，这些政党被认为代表并表达着有关国家政治的众多分歧的选择。因而，每个个体也就能够通过为他所选择的某个政党投票的方式"自由地"表达他的意见（如果它的选择不被断定为非法的话）。请注意，在政党背后存在着一定的现实。说白了，它们一般而言代表着敌对阶级的利益和阶级中敌对派系的利益，或者是社会各阶层的特殊利益，这些阶层在阶级冲突之中总是倾向于把自己特殊利益凌驾于其他利益之上。正是由于这一现实，不论政治制度有多少干扰手段或两面派手段，根本阶级的相互对抗性最终能够浮现出来。我之所以说"能够"，这是因为存在着这样一些资产阶级国家（美国，大不列颠，联邦德国，等等），它们的阶级斗争的政治发展没能超越议会代表制的门槛：在这些国家里议会中的对抗很少反映甚至完全扭曲真实的阶级对抗。资产阶级受议会制度的保护，完全是在它们自身内部绕圈子，只是在踏步不前。但另一方面也可能发生这样的情况，即工人阶级在政治上和经济上的阶级斗争可能获得一定程度的权力，使得资产阶级开始害怕"普选的裁决"（法国，意大利），即便资产阶级尚能动用大量手段以颠倒这一裁决或使这一裁决失效。我们不禁想起了法国人民阵线时期的代表议院：资产阶级只用了两年时间便削弱了议会的多数，然后便按照代表们的协议把它移交给了贝当。至此我想说的是，如果我们用事实和结果来质证议会政体的种种"原则"的话，没人能怀疑它的意识形态特征。所有资产阶级意识形态，法律意识形态和几世纪以来传播开来的哲学意识形态以及道德意识形态，都声称对"人权"作出了如下"证明"：每个人在政治上都有选择自己的思想和阵营（他的党派）的自由；所有资产阶级意识形态还声称这一"证明"的根本理念--尽管它归根到底只是一种幻觉--，即所有社会都是由单个的个人组成的（马克思却说："社会不是由个人构成"[①]，而是由阶级斗争中各阶级构成），普遍意志就在投票的多数机制的投票箱里，最后，正是这种由议会各党派成员代表的普遍意志决定着国家的政治，尽管后者实际上永远只代表某阶级即统治阶级的政治。再明显不过的是，这种政治意识形态是占统治地位的意识形态的一个要素并完全与后者一致：这一要素在资产阶级意识形态中随处可见（即便后者在近十年中逐渐转变自身）。如果我们看到这种占统治地位的意识形态的"基质"是资产阶级法权运作模式不可或缺的法律意识形态，这一点也不令人惊讶。如果你遇到了随处可见的［观念］，那么你就是碰到了占统治地位的意识形态。从一个"证明"到另一个"证明"的永恒循环参照--从法律意识形态的"证明"到道德意识形态的"证明"，再从后者到哲学意识形态的"证明"，再由之到政治意识形态的"证明"--，借此每部分意识形态"证明"都得到直接的证实，以便在AIE的各种实践中把这种证实强加给单个的个人。自由和平等的人权意识形态（选择自己观点和代表的自由，投票箱前的平等）最终产生出--并非由于"观念"的力量，而是阶级斗争的结果--它的意识形态机器，人权的政治意识形态也借以形成了一个具体形式。因此，对马克思主义批判家之外的所有人来说，该意识形态已经得到"证明"，可以在没有明显胁迫的情况下为选民或至少是大多数选民所接受。我们在这里显然是与一种机器在打交道，因为它就建立在一整套物质性的被组装起来的装置之上，这些装置有选举名单、选票、投票亭、竞选活动以至于由此而产生的国会。而且我们还明确地是与一种意识形态机器在打交道，因为它不靠暴力，"相当独立地"靠着其参与者的"意识形态这一基础"而运行，它的参与者接受其规则并履行着他们，因为他们真心重视它们，确信一个人必须"履行自己作为一个选民的责任"，这就是常规。服从和同意在这儿达到了吻合。资产阶级所强加的这种"证明"被选民当作"证明"接受下来：他们认为自己是选民并参与到这个体制当中去。他们"遵守游戏的规则"。如果这一分析正确，那么你就不能坚持说--就像有人要让我完全为把革命行动的全部可能性排除在外一种理论负责而"草率地"做出结论那样--所有党派，包括工人阶级党派在内的所有党派作为政党各自都是一个意识形态国家机器，它们共同整合起了资产阶级政体因而也就不能从事它们自己的阶级斗争。如果我所说的是事实，那么就会得出相反的结论，也就是说，政党的存在决不排除阶级斗争，而是以阶级斗争为基础。如果说资产阶级总是竭力行使它对工人阶级党的意识形态和政治领导权，这也正是阶级斗争的一种方式，资产阶级只有在工人阶级政党被它欺骗的条件下才能取得成功；工人阶级政党的领袖受到胁迫（1914－1918年的神圣联合[②]），或者就是被"收买"，要不就是工人阶级的党的群众基础偏离革命目标以捞取物质利益（工人贵族），再就是向资产阶级意识形态的影响投降（修正主义）--都会使这种情况发生。 三如果我们对革命的工人阶级的党即共产党进行考察，这些阶级斗争效果就更为明显。因为这些党是工人阶级的斗争组织，所以它们在原则上（之所以说原则上，是因为它们会滑入改良主义和修正主义）与资产阶级利益，因而与其政治体制完全对立。它们的意识形态（即他们招募它们党员的基础）与资产阶级意识形态相敌对。它们的组织形式（民主集中制）使它们与资产阶级政党，甚至与社会民主党或社会主义党区别开来。它们的目标不是要将自己的行动受制于议会竞争，而是要将阶级斗争扩展到整个工人阶级，从经济领域扩展到政治领域进而扩展到意识形态领域，而且要采取属于它们自己的斗争形式，必然与每五年将自己的选票放在投票箱的那种方式截然不同。在所有领域而绝非议会之内进行工人阶级的阶级斗争，这才是共产党的任务。它的真正任务不是"参与"政府，而是推翻并消灭资产阶级国家权力。有必要特别强调这一点，因为大多数西欧共产党今天都说自己是"参政党"。即便它们偶尔参与政府（在某些特定条件下这么做是对的），但一个共产主义党在任何情况下都不能被定义为一个"参政党"--无论我们所说的政府是在资产阶级的支配之下，还是在无产阶级的支配（"无产阶级专政"）之下。这一点至关重要。因为，共产党永远不会为了"管理"资产阶级国家事务而进入资产阶级国家政府（即便这个政府是广泛联合的"左翼"政府，致力于推行民主改良）。只有在这种情况下，即为了加强阶级斗争并为推翻资产阶级国家而做准备，它才进入政府。而它也不可能在如下前提下进入无产阶级专政的政府，即它的真正任务就是"管理"这个国家的事务，但实际上它必须为国家的消亡做准备。因为如果它投入全部精力去进行那种"管理"的话，也就是说这个党实际上让自己和这个国家融合在一起的话--正如我们在东欧所看到的那种情况，那么促进国家的消亡就是不可能的。所以共产党在任何情况下都不能作为普通的"参政党"去行事，因为做参政党就意味着做国家的党，这无非就是说要么为资产阶级国家服务，要么就是使无产阶级专政永恒化，而彻底偏离其促进国家消亡的任务。可以看到，一个革命的党坚持在政治的意识形态国家机器中获得稳固的地位，以便让阶级斗争的回响能够在议会中被听到，或者它因为形势有利于促进阶级斗争而"参与"了政府--即便如此，它也不应由它在选举议会中的位置或由通过资产阶级政治的意识形态国家机器实现的意识形态而被定义。实际上，共产主义党有着彻底区别于资产阶级党的"政治实践"。资产阶级党掌握着资产阶级的资源和支持，如资产阶级经济支配权的、剥削的、国家机器的以及意识形态国家机器的全部资源和支持。它要存在，首先不必为了赢得大众对它理念的支持而团结大众：最重要的是资产阶级的社会秩序本身承担了这项宣传和拉拢的说服工作，它保证了资产阶级党的群众基础。就资产阶级这方面而言，政治的和意识形态的优势是绝对有把握的，而且由来已久，以至于"选择"在"通常"情形下是自动化的，丝毫不受党派和资产阶级各派系更迭的影响。所以，资产阶级党只需有效地迅速地动员起来组织好它们的选举大战，就可以争取选民认同并收获胜利果实了。因此，资产阶级党根本不需要某科学理论或坚实学说就能生存下来：它只需从占统治地位的意识形态储备中借点思想就足以集合起出事先就由于恐惧或为利益计而被说服的追随者了。工人阶级的党不能为自己的党员提供任何东西：既没有报酬丰厚的闲职也没有物质利益，与此相比，资产阶级恰恰就是用这些来收买他们的成员，以防他们在支持的时候迟疑。工人阶级的党如实表现自己：它是无产阶级阶级斗争的组织，它的力量来自被剥削阶级的本能、科学的理论和党的章程所允许的自愿拥护者的自由意志。它把拥护者组织起来，领导一切形式的阶级斗争：（与工会组织相联合的）经济方面的、政治方面的和意识形态方面的阶级斗争。它确定路线和实践的基础不只是被剥削工人的反抗，而且还有各阶级间的权力平衡--多亏了由一切阶级斗争经验而丰富起来的科学理论原理，它才能以"正确"方式分析这种权力平衡。所以说，它最大限度地从每一方面--不仅在国内，而且在世界范围内--思考对统治阶级的阶级斗争的方式和力度。只有在这一"路线"基础上，它才能对既有效又"正确"地进入左翼政府做出判断，从而在其中为自己的目标进行阶级斗争。但无论在何种情况下，它都使运动的眼前利益服从于工人阶级的长远利益。它使自身的策略服从于共产主义的策略即无阶级社会的策略。这些至少就是"原理"。只有在这样一些条件下共产主义者才能说他们的党是完全区别于资产阶级党的"新型党"，才能说他们自己是彻底区别于资产阶级政客的"新型战士"。他们的政治实践，非法的也好，合法的也好，议会内的也好，"超议会"的也好，与资产阶级的政治实践毫无共同之处。有人现在可能会说，共产党，像所有的党一样，也在某种意识形态--它所说的无产阶级意识形态--的基础上组织自身。当然如此。即使对共产党来说，意识形态也起着把一个特定社会团体在思想和实践上统一起来的"粘合剂"（葛兰西）的作用。同样，在这种情况下，这种意识形态"把个人传唤（interpelle）为主体"，说得更确切一些，传唤为战斗主体：人们只需对共产主义党有点体验都能发现这种机制和动力，这一机制和动力基本上和其他意识形态一样决定着个体的命运，但同时也要考虑到这种意识形态的"规则"和不同意识形态之间是存在着矛盾的。人们所说的无产阶级意识形态绝非无产阶级"自发的"意识形态，无产阶级的"成分"（列宁）在那里总和资产阶级成分混合在一起，而且往往服从后者。因为，要作为一个意识到自己的整体性并在战斗组织中积极发挥作用的阶级而存在，无产阶级不仅要有经验（一百多年来它所进行的阶级斗争的经验），而且还得有客观认识和马克思主义学说所提供的指导原则。马克思主义学说照亮了这些经验，在这个双重基础上，它们才构成了无产阶级意识形态，构成了人民大众的意识形态，才能够在阶级斗争的组织中使无产阶级的先锋队团结起来。它因而是一种非常特殊的意识形态：说是意识形态，因为它与其他所有意识形态一样都在群众基层起作用（把个人传唤为主体），但同时它又充满着被科学分析原理照亮了的历史经验。如其自身所示，它形成了一种将工人运动与马克思主义学说熔合在一起的形式，这种熔合却又不可能没有冲突和矛盾；因为，这一熔合形式发生于无产阶级意识形态，在特定时期特定存在的无产阶级意识形态和使它得以形成并能够存在的党之间，它是马克思主义学说本身所不知晓的一种熔合形式，虽说马克思主义学说迄今一直还被这一熔合采纳。马克思主义学说在这儿只充当经典权威，就是说一种识别标记或教条，说到底，为了服务于党和国家的实用主义和宗派主义意识形态的缘故，马克思主义学说也可以干脆完全消失。不需长篇大论我们在这儿也能认出带有斯大林时期的印记的那些党在当前的处境，并得出如下结论，即当占统治地位的资产阶级意识形态在工人阶级的阶级斗争组织中滋生开来时，"无产阶级意识形态"也要取决于能让无产阶级保持自身统一性和行动原则的阶级斗争。一种意识形态：当然。但无产阶级意识形态不仅只是一种意识形态。既然每个阶级实际上都在一定的绝非任意的意识形态之中辨认自身，也就是说在植根于其策略实践的，能统一并指导该阶级从事阶级斗争的意识形态之中辨认自身。我们知道，封建阶级出于还有待我们进一步分析的种种原因在基督教的宗教意识形态中辨认自身，而资产阶级以相似的方式，至少是在其阶级统治和帝国主义最后发展阶段之前的那段时期，在法律的意识形态中辨认自身。而工人阶级，就其本身而言，即便它可以对宗教的、道德的和法律的意识形态要素非常敏感，但它首先是在具有政治特征的一种意识形态中，不是（阶级统治的）资产阶级政治的意识形态而是阶级斗争的无产阶级政治的意识形态中辨认自己的。这是为了消灭阶级和建成共产主义而进行阶级斗争的意识形态。这种意识形态在一开始具有自发形式（乌托邦社会主义），随后则在工人运动和马克思主义学说的熔合中得以深化发展，而只有马克思主义学说才是无产阶级意识形态的"内核"。显然，这样一种意识形态并非"知识分子"个人（马克思和恩格斯）给予工人运动指示的结果。工人运动之所以会采纳这种意识形态，乃在于该阶级在其中认出了自己的存在：唯其如此我们才能解释资产阶级知识分子何以能完成这样一个奇迹--为无产阶级度身定制了这么一个学说。它也并非考茨基所认为的那种被"灌输"进工人阶级当中的东西。因为马克思和恩格斯如果没有使自己的学说建基于理论的阶级立场之上，就不可能形成他们的学说--他们理论的阶级立场是他们与自己时代的工人运动建立起有机联系所产生的直接结果。实际上，知识分子当然可以通过巨大的认识努力构想马克思主义学说，但只有在工人运动内部并从其最隐秘的内核出发才能做到这一点。马基雅维利就说过，"要理解君主他就得是人民"。知识分子的出身不是人民，他必须成为人民才能理解君主，而只有参与到人民的斗争中去它才能做到这一点。马克思做到了：通过在最早的无产阶级组织中进行斗争，他成为了"无产阶级的有机知识分子"（葛兰西），也只有在无产阶级的政治和理论立场的基础之上，他才能"把握"资本是什么。马克思主义学说从外部灌输进来这个坏的问题提法所以应该变成这一形成于工人运动内部的学说在工人运动中传播的问题。当然，这种"传播"是经历了大起大落的相当长期的阶级斗争的结果，尽管对帝国主义的阶级斗争造成了戏剧性的分裂，但这种传播依旧继续着。我们可以用阶级斗争高于国家机器和意识形态国家机器的优先性的论点概括这里对革命的党的性质的分析的核心精神。一个以共产主义党面目出现的党，一旦热衷于通过选举游戏实现成为议会代表的权利，那么从形式上讲，它也可以以其他党的面目出现。一旦这个党出现在议会当中或"参与"了一个广泛联合的政府，那么从形式上讲，它也能以"遵守"政治的国家意识形态机器的"游戏规则"的面目出现。同样从形式上讲，它甚至还能以如下面目出现：它认可了这些"游戏规则"以及靠着并通过它们运转起来的整个意识形态机制--资产阶级政治意识形态机制。但是工人运动的历史给了我们足够多的教训，革命的党只要"加入这个游戏"并且有效地使自身"融入这个游戏"，那必定会在占统治地位的资产阶级意识形态影响下为了阶级联合而放弃阶级斗争。就阶级斗争的效果而言，"形式上"这么一来只能变成"实际上"。一直存在着的这种风险提醒我们注意工人运动的形成必须服从的前提条件：资产阶级的阶级斗争先于无产阶级的阶级斗争的支配性。如果你认为阶级斗争只是反抗社会不公正，不平等甚至是资产阶级剥削的工人阶级造反的结果，一句话，把阶级斗争简化为在一定剥削的条件下无产阶级所从事的阶级斗争，进而简化为资产阶级对这种斗争的回应，那么你对阶级斗争所抱有的看法就是错误认识。这里被遗忘的恰恰是：剥削的条件是在先的，剥夺无产者的状况之形成过程正是资产阶级的阶级斗争的本质形式，资产阶级的阶级斗争是支配性的。应该把原始积累的全部历史当作资产阶级通过阶级斗争对工人阶级的生产--这种阶级斗争也制造了资本主义剥削的条件。如果这一论点是正确的，那么我们不难清楚地看到为什么资产阶级的阶级斗争从一开始就支配着无产阶级的阶级斗争，为什么无产阶级的阶级斗争需要那么长时间来锻造自己的形式并找到属于自己的存在方式，为什么阶级斗争就其根本而言是不平衡的，为什么阶级斗争在资产阶级那里有着与无产阶级不同的实践形式，以及为什么资产阶级要通过意识形态国家机器制造那些形式以提前取消工人阶级的革命行动并使之服从于自己。无产阶级的自治，这是它所必需的大策略，也反映了这一条件。如果工人阶级服从资产阶级国家的支配，受占统治地位的意识形态的胁迫作用和那种"证明"的支配，那么它就无法赢得这种自治，进而无法获得条件去摆脱这种占统治地位的意识形态，无法让自己和它划清界限，无法创造属于自己的组织形式和行动方式，因而也就无法创造自己的意识形态--无产阶级的意识形态。这一断裂和彻底划清界限的特殊之处在于，它只有在长期不断的斗争中才能完成，而这斗争又不得不认真对待资产阶级的那些统治形式，并在属于自己的统治形式的内部与资产阶级展开战斗，而且还要确保不能"拘泥"于自己的这些形式--因为它们实际并非中性"形式"，而是创造占统治地位的意识形态的机器。正如我在1970年的研究笔记中所说："因为，如果AIE真的代表了统治阶级的意识形态必然由以得到实现的形式，代表了被统治阶级的意识形态必然由以进行较量和对抗的形式，那么，各种意识形态就不是从AIE当中'出生'的，而是来自在阶级斗争中搏斗着的各社会阶级：来自他们的生存条件、他们的实践、他们的斗争经验，等等。"无产阶级的阶级斗争的存在条件、实践（生产的和政治的实践）和形式，与资本家阶级的和帝国主义的阶级斗争的存在条件、实践（经济的和政治的实践）和形式毫无共同之处。因此就出现了对抗的意识形态，它们与（资产阶级和无产阶级的）阶级斗争一样，是不平衡和不相同的。这就是说，无产阶级意识形态并非是资产阶级意识形态的直接对立面、反面或颠倒，而是一种截然不同的意识形态，是有着截然不同的"价值"的批判的、革命的意识形态。尽管它的历史几经大起大落，但由于已经具有了这样的价值，即已然在工人阶级斗争的组织和实践中得到了实现的价值，无产阶级的意识形态已经勾画了社会主义过渡期的意识形态国家机器的侧影，并因而展现了共产主义条件下废除国家并废除意识形态国家机器的某些前景。 * 本文作为阿尔都塞对其《意识形态和意识形态国家机器》的补充说明，最初以德文于1976年发表在德文版的《意识形态和意识形态国家机器》（汉堡，VSA，1976）当中，后收入阿尔都塞遗稿《论再生产》。本文译自Luois Althusser, Sur la reproduction, PUF, 1995.[①] 马克思：《政治经济学批判（1857－1858年草稿）》，见《马克思恩格斯全集》第46卷（上），北京：人民出版社1976年版，第220页。--译者注[②]  第一次世界大战期间法国的战时内阁，共和社会党、左翼联合党、联合激进党、共和联合党和左翼激进党、统一社会党在在战争的特殊形势和"保卫法兰西"的口号下共同组阁。--译者注 

原社科院研究员、基督教徒对“基督教与社会和谐研讨会──中国家庭教会问题专题讨论”的记录，有明显倾向性。

评汪晖近期出版的日文著作《世界历史中的中国：文革、琉球、西藏》（《世界史の中の中国――文革・琉球・チベット》，笔者：汪暉；译者：石井剛・羽根次郎；东京：青土社，2011年1月24日），柄谷行人于地震次日（3月12日）主持的长池讲义中讨论此书。 -- 作者是我最信赖的中国现代思想家。他是鲁迅研究者出身，在天安门事件时遭到镇压之后，涉足了其它更广泛的领域。但是，从某种意义上来说，他看来似乎走着一条更具鲁迅特色的道路。即他在通晓世界规模的知识状况的同时，还经常在中国这种特殊的文脉下思考问题。这是他比较独特的地方。 本书中也有这样两个观点。一个是从普遍角度来思考世界的状况，并将中国也放在其中。用作者的话来，现代世界的主要倾向是“去政治化”。也许用下面那样的话来说的话更容易理解一点。例如：自1990年之后，我们用“市场经济”这个词语来代替“资本主义”。这就忽视了资本的积累是基于资本与雇佣劳动的阶级关系这一事实，并将资本主义视为是自然与永久的。 在日本和资本主义发达国家发生过这样的“去政治化”，其实中国也同样发生过。在中国，资本主义经济（新自由主义）在“社会主义市场经济”之名下急速展开，各地产生严重的阶级对立。但是这个问题被偷换成了民族主义、民族认同、或者人权问题等“政治”层面上来。这些看上去是政治问题，其实是去离政治的。 本书的另外一个观点是，从中国的特殊问题中提取普遍性的认识。为了理解现代中国的民族问题，我们有必要研究一下由清朝扩大的册封体制，即朝贡关系。从由西方产生的主权国家这种观点来看的话，朝贡关系只是支配—从属的关系而已。但是朝贡关系在实际上以交易形式而表现，帝国根本不干涉其他国家的政治和文化。朝贡关系就是保障贸易和和平的国际体系。如果把它当做“帝国”的话，那么“帝国主义”则先承认对方为主权国家，又将其卷入资本主义经济当中，甚至在文化层面也进行同化。西方列强是以“将从属于‘帝国’的各个国家解放出来”为借口而进行对它们的支配。 要想从历史角度理解现在的西藏问题的话，对这种朝贡关系的理解是不可或缺的。不仅如此，对于包括周边国家在内的亚洲政治结构的理解也是必要的，例如，琉球王国原来向清朝和日本都进贡，但是日本依据近代原理来灭亡这王国，最终将其归为自己的领土。对于现在的冲绳基地问题，如果对上述的事情经过缺乏了解，就无法进行研究。当然，作者并不是在称赞清朝的政治体系，只是想从朝贡关系和儒学的传统中去寻找某些用以能够构建“跨体系社会”的原理的启发而已。 羽根次郎译