"Herman Melville - Bartleby The Scrivener" - читать интересную книгу автора (Melville Herman)

Etext of Bartleby The Scrivener
by Herman Melville
1856

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, 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 tranquillity 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,