A Story of
Wall-Street
I am a rather
elderly man. The nature of my activities 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 several
histories, at which good-natured gentlemen might smile, and sentimental souls
might weep. But I ignore 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.
Herman Melville |
In the
first place: 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 warm 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 has
a rounded and orbicular sound to it, and rings like unto gold. 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 activities 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 derogation
of the office of Master in Chancery, by the new Constitution, as a—premature
act; considering 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 column, 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 superior
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… (De Bartleby, the Scrivener…)
Vocabulario
reemplazado
avocations divers
waive ere snug imprimis hath bullion abrogation inasmuch shaft lofty
Vocabulario
Scribener: a profesional copyist. Lurking: dimly perceived
La historia
Bartleby…
(1853) es una historia de Herman Melville, primero serializada anónimamente en dos
partes en las ediciones de noviembre y diciembre de la revista Putnam.
Numerosos ensayos han sido publicados sobre la que fue para el estudioso Robert
Milder “una incuestionable obra de arte”.
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