"Bartleby the Scrivener" by Herman Melville

Herman Melville (1819-1891)

Bartleby the Scrivener

The story The author is a Master in chancery, a profession connected with law aged about sixty years, but unlike other lawyers, unambitious, who never addresses a jury, or draws down public applause. He profoundly believes that the easiest way of life is the best. He has two persons as copyists — Turkey and Nippers in his employment, and an office boy, Ginger Nut. He has come into contact with a good number of law copyists or scriveners. Of them, Bartleby was the strangest, whose life the author intends to describe in a few passages. He needed some more scriveners due to the increase in his business. He put up an advertisement, and in answer to it, a motionless young man one morning stood upon his office threshold. He was pallidly neat, pitiably respectable, and incurably forlorn. It was Bartleby.

The author engaged him, glad to have among his corps of copyists a man of singularly sedate aspect which, he thought, might operate beneficially upon the flighty temper of Turkey, and the fiery one of Nippers. He resolved to assign Bartleby a corner by the folding doors of his office so that he could have this quiet man: within easy call in case, any trifling thing was to be done.

At first, Bartleby did an extraordinary quantity of writing, as if long famishing for something to copy, he seemed to gorge himself on the author's documents. But he was not cheerfully industrious, he wrote on silently, palely, mechanically. On the third day of his being with the author, the author called Bartleby to complete a small affair he had in hand to examine a small paper with him. But surprisingly, he replied, “I would prefer not to.”

The author echoed “Prefer not to," and rising in high excitement, and crossing the room with a stride, said, "What do you mean? Are you moon-struck?” But Bartleby replied again, “I would prefer not to." His face was leanly composed, his grey eyes dimly calm. the wrinkle of agitation rippled him. Had there been the uneasiness, anger, impatience, or impertinence in his manner there been anything ordinarily human about him, the author has violently dismissed him from the premises. He stood gazing at Bartleby awhile, as the latter went on with his writing, then reseated himself at his desk. The author called Nippers from the other room and got the paper speedily examined.

A few days after this Bartleby concluded four lengthy documents, quadruplicates of a week's testimony taken before the High court of chancery. It was necessary to examine them because it was an important suit. The author called Turkey, Nippers, and Ginger Nut from the next room. They came and sat in a row. But Bartleby, when called, said "I would prefer not to". The author was astounded by this totally unexpected reply, and would have flown outright into a dreadful passion but for the fact that there was something about Bartleby that not only strangely disarmed him but touched and disconcerted him. He reasoned with him, but still, he gave the same answer. He asked Turkey, Nippers, and Ginger Nut whether he was right in his opinion, and they all supported him. But Bartleby was adamant.

Some days passed. The author closely observed his conduct. He saw that Bartleby never left his place in the room, and lived on ginger nuts, never taking any dinner. One afternoon he said to Bartleby that he would compare the papers with him. Bartleby gave the same answer, “I would prefer not to". The author immediately informed Turkey and Nippers that Bartleby said a third time that he would not examine his papers. They were about to punish him, but the author prevented them. He felt tempted to be rebelled against again and told Bartleby to go to the cost office (which was a three-minute walk) and see if there was anything for him. But Bartleby gave him the same answer, “I would prefer not to". The author staggered to his desk and sat there in deep study. His. inveteracy returned. He called Bartlefy loudly and told him to tell Nippers in the next room to come to him. Bartleby gave the same answer again.

The author got considerably reconciled to Bartleby, as days passed on. Turkey and Nippers suggested that he should not be dispatched on the most trivial of errand of any sort. One Sunday morning he tried to open his chamber, but the door was closed from the inside. When he called out a key was turned from inside and Bartleby, holding the door ajar, told him he was busy at that moment and would not allow him to enter. He suggested that he might walk around for some time during which he would finish his work. The author went on surmising many things about what he might be doing during his walk around, but when he returned and opened his Chamber with his key, Bartleby was not there. He observed the things within the room; it appeared that Bartleby lived there extremely lonely manner, never going out to do anything, or meeting any man.

The author went back home and decided to dismiss his, service the next day. Accordingly, the next morning he went chamber and called Bartleby, assuring that he was not going him to do anything which he would prefer not to do. Upon this noiselessly slid into view. The author asked him to tell him where he was born. He said, “I would prefer not to." He asked him some questions. Bartleby answered, “At present, I prefer to give no answer, and retired into the room.

The author was mortified at his behavior and ruminated on what he should do. At last, drawing his chair behind his screen, the author told him to be a bit reasonable. Bartleby answered, "At present, I would prefer not to be a little reasonable." Meanwhile, the author himself and his clerks seemed to be affected by the repeated use of the word “prefer” by Bartleby. They began to use the word involuntarily.

The next day the author noticed that Bartleby did nothing but stood at his window in his dead wall reverie. Asked why he did not write, he said that he had decided upon doing no more writing. The author asked him why, and he said, “Do you not see the reason for yourself?" The author looked at his eyes, they looked dull and glazed. He thought that his eyes might have been affected by too much writing. Some days later, he thought that his eyes were improved. When asked about his eyes, Bartleby made no answer and said he would do no copying at all events. He remained as ever a fixture in the author's chamber, the author decently told Bartleby that in six days' time he must unconditionally leave the office. He also offered to assist him in his endeavor to find a new abode and gave an assurance of sufficient money.

Six days passed but still, Bartleby was in his room. The author softly told him to vacate, offered him money, and said he was sorry for him. But Bartleby answered he would prefer not, nor did he take the money. Leaving the money on the table the author told me to leave that room that day and bade him goodbye.

The next morning the author went to his chamber, with the expectation that Bartleby had departed, but found Bartleby there. He had not even touched the money left on the table. W asked him in an angry mood whether he would quit or not, and answered, “I would prefer not to quit you.” The author was. and felt like killing him, but he remembered one commandment of the Bible, "A new commandment give I unto you that ye love one another." and refrained from doing any violence. He rather indulged in the philosophical meandering that it was his fate, or the will of the mysterious providence, etc. He would have remained in this blessed frame of mind, had not the frequent visits of his professional colleagues and their uncharitable remarks about the strange creature, Bartleby, obtruded upon him. Various speculations about the consequences of Bartleby's occupation of the author's chambers ultimately changed his mind and made him resolve to gather all his faculties together, and forever rid himself of that intolerable incubus.

But before taking any violent measure, he tried to persuade Bartleby to leave and gave many arguments for that, but even after three days' meditation upon the matter, Bartleby informed him that his original determination remained the same. The author was now in a great problem. After weighing various possible measures he ultimately decided to quit Bartleby by moving his chambers. He gave notice to Bartley to this effect and warned him that if he was found on his new premises, he would be regarded as a trespasser, and legal action would be taken against him. Bartleby made no reply. On the appointed day, he removed everything in a few hours. Throughout the scrivener remained standing behind the screen. The screen was removed last of all, leaving Bartleby as the motionless occupant of a naked room. The author established himself in his new office. After some days a stranger (lawyer) came to him and asked him about Bartleby, and held him responsible for Bartleby. The author denied the charge because he knew nothing about the man. Some days later the owner of the author's old chambers came and informed him that Bartleby though turned out of the room, persisted in haunting the building generally, sitting upon the banisters by day and sleeping in the entry by night. Everybody was concerned, clients were leaving the offices, and some fears were entertained of a mob. The author must do something. He then met Bartleby and offered him all sorts of occupations that he might engage himself in, but he refused all of them. He even told him that he might stay at his house, but Bartleby refused even that. The author, in order to avoid rude persecution by the people, undertook a Rockaway trip around, for some time.

When the author entered his office again, he found a note laid upon the desk, from the landlord. It informed him that the police removed Bartleby to the Tombs as a vagrant. The author visited the Tombs (a prison) and met Bartleby the same day as he received the note. Bartleby said that he wanted nothing to say to him. The author left him, but when he entered the corridor again, a man (grub-man) accosted him and told him that friends of the prisoners hired: him to provide the prisoners with something good to eat. The author him some money and told him to treat Bartleby very kindly, and him the best dinner he could get. The grub-man told him to introduce him to Bartleby. He did so, and the grub-man assured Bartleby of all pleasant things in the prison. But Bartleby told him that he preferred not to dine that day because he was unused to dinners. The author left the prison that day. A few days later revisited the prison. He could not find him in the corridors. After a good search, he found Bartleby strangely huddled at the base of a wall of the yard not accessible to common prisoners, his knees drawn up, and lying on his side, his head touching the cold stones. The author went close up to him, stooped over, and saw that his dim eyes were open. Otherwise, he seemed profoundly sleeping. The author touched him, and a tingling shiver ran up his arm and down his spine to his feet. The grub-man, peering upon the author, said, “His dinner is ready. Won't he dine today either? Or does he live without dining? The author replied, "Lives without dining", and closed his eyes on Bartleby. The grub-man said, “Eh!-He's asleep, ain't he?” The author answered, “With kings and counselors”. Bartleby was dead.

A few months after the scrivener's death he heard some rumors about Bartleby's life before he became the author's clerk. One item of the rumor was this: Bartleby had been a subordinate clerk in the dead-letter office at Washington, from which post he had been suddenly removed by a change in the administration. When the author thinks of the rumor, he can hardly express the emotions which seize him. “Dead letters! does it not sound like dead men?"