Bartleby the Scrivener: Analysis, Themes & Characters

Introduction

Bartleby, the Scrivener by Herman Melville is one of his most elusive and compelling short stories—one that most critics deem to be his ultimate masterpiece. A primary reason critics herald it as such is that it can be interpreted in so many ways: as a supernatural tale, as a psychological projection, as a comedy of the modern workplace, as an indictment of the modern workplace, as a meditation on the human condition, and in numerous other ways. It is also important to note that this story marked a break from Melville's more typical adventure tales of the era. Instead, he trained a razor-sharp gaze on the mundaneness of the human condition, suggesting answers to its most mysterious conundrums. Literature is, after all, a study of human existence, and this short story highlights the incomprehensibility of the minutiae of human interaction in the workplace.

Analyzing Bartleby, the Scrivener empowers the reader to be illuminated by the numerous facets that make the short story an evaluation of capitalism in America, nineteenth-century labor relations, stifled homoeroticism, or a coded enigma tied to one of the many texts that influenced Melville (Kahn). To analyze this masterpiece is to commit to confronting its elusiveness, its mercurial nature, and the paradox at its core. Humans need to protect their individuality while also nurturing their sense of social interdependence in order to survive. Bartleby, the Scrivener shows what happens when individuality is selected over all else to the point of self-destruction. This is but one interpretation of a multifaceted work of art, from which many interpretations may emerge.

Plot Summary

At its starkest, Bartleby, the Scrivener tells the story of an attorney with a thriving business servicing the legal needs of wealthy men who hires a scrivener to help with the enormous tasks of copying. The title character is hired, and his personality and demeanor are vividly described: "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" (Melville, 6). This description conveys a strong sense that Bartleby is small in stature and withdrawn, introverted. Initially, Bartleby demonstrates intense productivity as a copyist, completing "an extraordinary quantity of writing." Even in this initial stage, however, there appears to be a foreshadowing of the disappointments to come.

"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" (Melville, 6). In this description, Bartleby resembles a machine on the verge of collapse—a car running at peak speed before the transmission fails. He is an employee on the edge of total burnout.

Things begin to unravel when Bartleby is asked to engage in office tasks outside of copying. In response to each such request, Bartleby states that he "prefers" not to—much to the unified shock of his employer, the narrator, and everyone else in the office. Nothing can sway him: not common sense, not logical appeals. He is resolute.

Through the narrator, readers discover that Bartleby actually lives in the office, though he does so in a markedly pitiful manner. Examining Bartleby's workspace, the narrator finds that he is eating, dressing, and sleeping there without the proper tools to make this feasible. Scrutinizing a rickety sofa, the narrator finds that it "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" (Melville, 13). Based on these details, Bartleby seems to have created a kind of self-imposed prison in his workspace.

The narrator is deeply moved by this, partly because of the poverty it suggests and partly because of the crippling loneliness and isolation it indicates. This copyist was living a life of exile—not just from friends and a stable domestic life, but from the rest of the world entirely. As the narrator observes, the solitude Bartleby experiences must be all-encompassing: "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" (Melville, 13). Such downtown financial districts are typically devoid of people on weekends, making Bartleby's chosen dwelling all the more desolate. Profoundly saddened by this discovery, the narrator seeks to learn more about his copyist—but that proves futile. Asking Bartleby even the most rudimentary question about himself yields the same reply: "I would prefer not to answer."

Things continue to deteriorate as Bartleby then refuses to do any work whatsoever—not merely additional duties beyond copying, but all forms of office work, including copying itself. The narrator notices that Bartleby simply stands at his window and gazes at the dead wall that constitutes his view. When his employer inquires about the complete lack of productivity, Bartleby explains that he will do no more writing. When his employer demands a reason, Bartleby answers in a riddle: "'Do you not see the reason for yourself,' he indifferently replied" (Melville, 17). The narrator feels sorry for him and seeks to rationalize the situation, deciding that Bartleby has eyestrain and encouraging him to take fresh air—which the clerk refuses. The narrator assumes that rest will eventually restore Bartleby's willingness to work. It does not. Upon confrontation, Bartleby confirms that he has given up copying. Even so, he remains a fixture in the office, more concretely than before, creating a pervasive sense of unease and pity (18).

The narrator eventually decides the time has come to ask Bartleby to leave. He gives Bartleby a six-day deadline, assuring him that he will be compensated his wages plus an additional bonus. When that day arrives, the narrator delivers the wages and bonus and instructs Bartleby to remove his belongings, lock the door, slip the key under the mat, and maintain communication by letter if he should ever need assistance.

Predictably, Bartleby does not leave, stating once again that he would prefer not to. This proves an extreme frustration to the narrator, who begins to worry that this stubborn presence might harm his professional reputation. "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" (22). Eventually the narrator decides to move offices entirely, offering Bartleby a disingenuous explanation—claiming the move is partly because his current offices are too far from City Hall and that the air in that part of the city is "unwholesome." He informs Bartleby that he will no longer require his services and advises him to seek other employment (23). Bartleby does not respond. The movers come and remove all of the narrator's furniture—including the screen behind which Bartleby stood—leaving him alone in an empty room. His employer attempts to press some money into his hand before departing permanently, but it simply falls to the floor.

The narrator later learns that Bartleby was evicted from the previous chambers and took to haunting the building, frightening tenants and clients by sitting motionless on the banister of the stairwell. The narrator returns to confront him and attempts every possible solution: he suggests alternative careers, each of which Bartleby dismisses; he even invites Bartleby to stay at his own home until a more convenient arrangement can be made—also dismissed. Eventually, the narrator learns that his former employee has been sent to prison ("to the Tombs as a vagrant"). The narrator attempts to comfort him; Bartleby rejects it. The narrator gives the prison cook some silver to prepare especially good meals for Bartleby; Bartleby refuses to eat. The reader is left to assume that Bartleby, with his gray eyes, quietly starved to death.

As a closing note, the narrator informs the reader that before becoming his clerk, Bartleby had worked at the post office in the dead letter branch, sorting through undeliverable mail. One is left to speculate about the impact that work may have had on his mental health.

Analysis

As already noted, there are numerous ways to analyze this text. Some scholars have interpreted it as an antiquated Occupy Wall Street story, as Bartleby continually demonstrates his ability to remain in the office while refusing to engage in a single thread of productivity (Greenberg). Melville's narrator is an attorney for the one-percenters of 1800s New York, engaged in "a snug business among rich men's bonds and mortgages and title-deeds." The word occupy recurs vigorously throughout the text and initially carries a pleasant connotation—the narrator is pleased by the consistency of Bartleby's occupation of his office while the copyist works with fervor. "When Bartleby stops working, the lawyer wonders, like a weak-hearted Bloomberg, whether he should evict the stubborn copyist" (Greenberg). Bartleby's refusal to work grips the narrator with the uneasy question of when the occupier of Wall Street becomes its possessor (Greenberg): "The idea came upon me of his possibly turning out a long-lived man, and keep occupying my chambers, and denying my authority." There is a pervasive anxiety throughout the text that Bartleby will gain hold of the office simply by persisting in occupying it.

This anxiety is reinforced by the passive power Bartleby holds: even after the narrator moves offices and Bartleby is forced out of his former employer's chambers, he persists in occupying the stairwell. "Bartleby's 'queer word' of choice, to prefer, injects into the story a defiant note of desire, shifting our analysis of his occupancy from economic rights to preferences and wishes" (Greenberg). The narrator continues to struggle to understand Bartleby and to balance legal obligations against ethical ones, never clear on why Bartleby seems indifferent to the money he is offered or owed. "By refusing to articulate specific demands, Bartleby defies the very terms on which Wall Street does business. Melville thus provides a prescient illustration of the force of the Occupy movement" (Greenberg). The Occupy Wall Street movement, many have argued, derived its political power precisely by withholding a list of demands, avoiding the self-definition that might minimize its force or render it susceptible to ordinary politics (Greenberg). The enigmatic quality of Bartleby—and its disinterest in quick cash fixes—may, in this reading, be its most formidable strength.

Another interpretation encourages the reader to view the story more simply: Bartleby acts as a reminder of conscience to a lawyer who has used his talents and education solely to build a comfortable life. Rather than fight for justice or rectify the ills of society, the narrator has sought a career with minimal stress, consistent work, and solid compensation. "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" (Melville, 1). Bartleby's actions directly confront and oppose his employer's lifestyle, forcing the narrator to examine his own choices. "Challenging Bartleby means challenging the decisions he has made for himself, something he is not willing to confront after practicing for so long" (Buonocore). Despite the narrator's unwillingness to look inward, Bartleby persists in undermining the ease and rationale that has shaped his employer's life. The narrator meets Bartleby's frustrating behavior with both annoyance and sympathy, rationalizing his actions by attributing them to loneliness or eyestrain rather than examining his own role in creating such an employee. While it may appear that the narrator is doing all he can for this inscrutable worker, his efforts ultimately amount to pitying him, asking him to work, rationalizing his behavior, and then washing his hands of him.

Perhaps the most revealing moment in their relationship is when the narrator learns that Bartleby has continued to haunt the office building. The narrator pretends not to know him and refuses to get involved—only agreeing to confront Bartleby when he fears being "exposed in the papers" (25). To the very end, this attorney pursues nothing but the most convenient solution for dealing with Bartleby. Human suffering takes many forms—it can manifest as hysteria or as the quiet mental rigidity of someone like Bartleby. While the narrator made some efforts to help, none of them extended past his comfort zone. This short story can thus be read as the wasted potential of a talented lawyer, and as a portrait of the limitations of those who are capable and have means but choose convenience over genuine moral engagement.

Conclusion

One of the primary reasons that Bartleby, the Scrivener has stood the test of time since its publication in 1853 is its refusal to be reduced to a single definition. Some scholars view it as a Kafkaesque tale of the plight of the proletariat. Others read it as a cautionary tale about the callousness of individuals toward their fellow humans. Still others interpret it as a haunting portrayal of the tragedy of the ordinary life, unable to withstand the narrow confines of traditional communication. Hundreds of additional interpretations emerge legitimately from the text. Without doubt, even though the story is so old that it makes no mention of even a typewriter, it continues to offer insightful commentary on some of the most inscrutable aspects of human life.

There will always be readers who dismiss Bartleby, the Scrivener as merely an odd tale about peculiar human behavior. However, if that were the full extent of it—if its words added up to nothing more than a curious story—it would long ago have been lost to obscurity. Examining its discernment and relevancy today, nearly two hundred years after it was written, illuminates certain truths about what it means to be an individual, a worker, a member of society, a boss, a prisoner, and a host of other archetypes that are presented in the story with uncanny precision.

Works Cited

Buonocore, Andrew. "BartlebyAnalysis - LawContempSoc - TWiki." Eben Moglen, 2012, moglen.law.columbia.edu/twiki/bin/view/LawContempSoc/BartlebyAnalysis. Accessed 9 July 2018.

Greenberg, Jonathan D. "Occupy Wall Street's Debt to Melville." The Atlantic, www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2012/04/occupy-wall-streets-debt-to-melville/256482/.

Kahn, Andrew. "Finally! The Interactive, Annotated Edition of 'Bartleby, the Scrivener' You Always Wanted." Slate Magazine, 22 Oct. 2015, www.slate.com/articles/arts/culturebox/2015/10/herman_melville_s_bartleby_the_scrivener_an_interactive_annotated_text.html. Accessed 9 July 2018.

Melville, Herman. "Bartleby, The Scrivener: A Story Of Wall-street." Eben Moglen, moglen.law.columbia.edu/LCS/bartleby.pdf. Accessed 9 July 2018.