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Isolation in Melville's "Bartleby the Scrivener:"

A man alone and isolated in the midst of Wall Street, the major financial center of the U.S.

Herman Melville's short story of "Bartleby the Scrivener" is a strange, almost plotless work of short fiction which details how the refusal of Bartleby (a law-copier or scrivener) to work causes chaos in the office where he is employed. While it might be assumed that getting rid of a non-productive employee like Bartleby might be relatively simple, Melville makes it clear that Bartleby's refusal to labor has philosophical as well as economic implications. The other scriveners are shocked by Bartleby's refusal to perform because it contradicts the principles which they have defined their lives by -- namely, the value of hard, laborious, but ultimately meaningless copy work. Bartleby is kind of an existential hero -- despite working in a crowded office, his sense of the pointlessness of his work and the meaningless nature of his life is acute, in contrast to those of the other scriveners, who still harbor the delusion that they are performing meaningful labor.

The unique nature of Bartleby is underlined by having the story narrated by a lawyer who does not feel conflicted over his duties or those he imposes upon the scriveners. He is perfectly delighted in his unobstructed view of a brick wall at the office where he works and the singular 'company' with whom he shares his work. Through the use of irony, Melville makes it very clear that the other scriveners have toiled so long at their employment they have, in effect, lost their humanity. "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." In effect, the other scriveners have become objects rather than human beings -- they have become their work, which is something Bartleby presumably wishes to avoid but cannot. That is why Bartleby is alone amongst his fellow scriveners -- he understands all too well the limits of their duties while it has overwhelmed the characters of the other scriveners to such a degree they cannot see past their occupations and the purposelessness of their lives. All of these men, in various ways, have become obsessed with their work to the point of actually 'becoming' their work. This is another reason for Bartleby's intense loneliness as well -- he has no men who are truly 'real' to keep him company, merely men who are obsessed with copying (and the narrator, he makes clear, is similarly obsessed in ensuring that his workers view their duties as a kind of sacred bond).

At first, Bartleby attempts to make a 'good show' of laboring hard at his work. "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." The narrator makes it clear that not only is the work tedious, dull, and repetitive -- it is so overwhelming and literally saps the life and humanity from Bartleby, making him pale and wan and turning him into a machine.

The narrator's language seems to suggest that he regards the work as a substitute for a kind of food, noting that Bartleby 'gorges' himself on the documents. This metaphor seems apt given that one common defense of having to do tedious work is that one must 'work to eat.' The fact that the narrator later marvels that Bartleby does not seem to eat and never goes home further underscores the extent to which being a scrivener deprives one of one's connection to individuated human experience, even the comforts of food and family, the reasons for which so many people are supposed to work in the first place. Eventually, the obsession with the work for many scriveners takes over the need to fulfill the human functions that are supposed to be the real reasons people seek paid employment.

Bartleby soon discovers in the long run, work is no substitute for spiritual and personal sustenance: Bartleby is unable to digest what he copies, even while it is supposed to be what wins him his bread by providing him with a salary. He clearly at first makes a valiant effort to be a scrivener, as is reflected in the narrator's initial expectation of instantaneous compliance when he orders Bartleby to do something. However, there is something about the work that does not satisfy the pale Bartleby, as reflected in this 'indigestibility' of the copy.

The inability to 'digest' copy also reflects the fact that the scriveners are required to work so fast they are unable to contemplate the full implications of what they are writing. The narrator writes that on a very literal level the scriveners are prone to dyspepsia -- this indigestion is likely to be mental as well as physical, however, given that they are unable to do anything spontaneous or creative all day as they must sit, fixed to their chairs without moving. Their physical as well as their mental constitutions are literally deformed by the labor and even the narrator, despite his enthusiasm for his work admits that regarding going over copy: "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." The poets, men of action, or men who want to have exciting lives of individuality like Byron would be stymied by the life of a scrivener.

Bartleby seems unable to resist social pressures enough to completely leave his occupation or to make creative work himself. His resistance manifests itself in refusal rather than in action. In fact, the narrator is impressed by Bartleby's apparent immobility rather than his animation as the scrivener says "I prefer not to," over and over again. "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." Bartleby's very humanity seems to irritate the narrator -- rather than making a show of anger, Bartleby seems to be discovering himself and his autonomy in a way which the narrator cannot dismiss. This individuality disturbs the narrator, given how long he has labored in an office full of men who glory in doing faceless copy-work.