Why is the narrator consistently sympathetic to bartleby

He admits that he chooses always to err on the side of caution. He presents as a silent scrivener who works efficiently and ceaselessly. His flaws as an employee only emerge later when his boss demands that he acts outside of the specific scope of copying documents. So begins a series of calmly executed yet consistently confounding acts of disobedience growing in severity to the point of complete inaction, permanent residence in a building he does not own, and general disregard for all interactions around him.

Bartleby exists as a ghost, a resolute statue standing firmly outside the status quo. As a follower of social norms, the narrator represents passivity within the modern world.

Bartleby embodies its opposite. Melville writes two characters to contrast with each other. Both selfish but one, a boss content with the way things are, another stuck unable to interact with the world he sees. I was just annoyed. After reading the Fisher essay, I understand the power structures with which Melville was trying to contend. Bartleby gives the same answer. Irked, the narrator walks over to Bartleby, places the document before him, and orders him to take it.

Stunned, the narrator stares at him, then returns to his desk. In a hurry to get the document checked, he decides to deal with Bartleby later and gives the document to Nippers, who quickly does what he is told. Several days later, Bartleby completes four copies of lengthy testimony in an important lawsuit in the High Court of Chancery.

Because accuracy is of utmost concern, the narrator needs to have his four clerks check the copies while he reads the original. After summoning Turkey, Nippers, and Ginger Nut, he gives each of them one of the copies to check. When he calls out to Bartleby, the latter steps forth from behind his screen, and the narrator orders him to check the fourth copy. Angry, the narrator demands to know why he refuses to check the copy.

Bartleby merely repeats that he would prefer not to. With any other person, the narrator would have flared into a rage. But Bartleby's strange behavior prompts a different approach. What the narrator does is calmly explain the task, noting that checking all four copies in one session will save time. He adds that every copyist has a duty to help examine his own copies. Ginger Nut thinks Bartleby a bit daft. The narrator and the three clerks proceed on their own, but not without grumbling from Nippers.

Several more days pass. By this time, the narrator notices that Bartleby never leaves the office for lunch. However, at 11 a. The narrator wonders what a diet of such cakes will do to a man's constitution. After due consideration, the narrator decides to tolerate Bartleby, for he is useful, though eccentric. If the narrator were to fire him, Bartleby would probably have difficulty holding another job—and eventually end up starving. All goes well for a time, but Bartleby begins to irritate the narrator all over again.

Bartleby does not answer. The narrator then opens the glass doors and calls out to Turkey, telling him of Bartleby's attitude and asking him what he thinks. Because it is afternoon, Turkey is very red-faced and easily provoked. Turkey says he will blacken Bartleby's eyes, then gets up—fists held high—and goes toward Bartleby's desk. The narrator stops him, however, fearful of what the irascible Turkey might do. Instead, he tells Turkey to sit down and listen to what Nippers has to say about the situation.

The narrator closes the glass doors so that he is alone with Bartleby, then orders him to go to the post office to see whether any mail has arrived. Bartleby gives his usual answer. The narrator returns to his desk, frustrated, then decides to issue another order. He calls out loudly for Bartleby. Three times he shouts his name. Finally, Bartleby appears next to the screen. The narrator asks him to open the glass doors and summon Nippers. The narrator resigns himself to the presence of Bartleby but, as the days pass, also acknowledges his value.

After all, he is quiet, works continually, and is never absent. Moreover, he seems completely trustworthy. The narrator notes at this point that there are four keys to his office—one for himself, one for the cleaning woman, one for Turkey, and one that was lost or misplaced. One Sunday morning, the narrator goes to Trinity Church to hear a famous preacher. Because he arrives early, he decides to walk over to his office. When he inserts his key to unlock the door, it strikes another key already in the lock.

He calls out. The other key turns the lock and Bartleby appears half-dressed. Holding the door partly open, he tells the narrator that he cannot enter. He suggests that the narrator walk around the block a few times and return. By that time, Bartleby says, he will have finished up his business. What is Bartleby up to? When the narrator returns later, he unlocks the door and enters his office. Bartleby is nowhere to be seen. However, there are signs that he has been sleeping, eating, and living in the office—a blanket, soap, a water basin, a towel, and a bit of cheese and a few cake crumbs on a sheet of newspaper.

The narrator concludes that Bartleby is an impoverished, lonely man who has no home or family. Melancholy overcomes the narrator. He feels sorry for Bartleby. The narrator notices that Bartleby has left a key in the lock of his desk.

He turns the key and draws back the panel, revealing neatly arranged papers. In one of the pigeonholes he finds money wrapped in a bandanna, Bartleby's savings. The narrator returns home, without stopping at church. In the morning, he asks Bartleby whether he will tell him where he was born. When he asks Bartleby whether he will reveal anything at all about himself, Bartleby gives his usual reply. He asks why Bartleby is withholding the information.

Nippers overhears this answer through the glass doors, gets up and opens them, and angrily storms forth and makes known his displeasure with Bartleby. Nippers, I prefer that you would withdraw for the present. The narrator notices that Turkey has used Bartleby's word— prefer. Bartleby says he would prefer to be left alone. The narrator tells Turkey to return to his desk. The next day, Bartleby spends his time standing at a window.

He tells the narrator that he does not plan to do any more copying. The narrator thinks Bartleby's eyes are tired and tells him that it is all right if he does not write for a while. However, several days later, Bartleby says he has ceased copying—permanently. But he does not leave. He continues to come in—and do nothing.

Days pass. Bartleby is still there. Sometimes a visiting lawyer would ask him a question or ask him to run an errand. Bartleby would not respond. The narrator then decides that if Bartleby will not leave him he will leave Bartleby—that is, he will relocate to a new office. On the scheduled day, movers haul away all the furniture and the narrator bids Bartleby goodbye, leaving money for him.

In the new office, the narrator keeps the door locked during the first few workdays, and all goes well. But one day a lawyer contacts him and tells him he is responsible for a man he left behind at his old Wall Street office.

The lawyer says Bartleby does nothing there but refuses to leave the premises. Rather than listening to his other employees and firing Bartleby, he basically fires himself by moving offices. The Narrator does this because he cannot bare to be mean to Bartleby, because he just does not have it in him to do anything negative towards him. He even tries to bribe him with extra pay for him to leave the office, rather than simply firing him.

The Narrator does not treat Bartleby as an employee, but as a concerned parent when he finds Bartleby in the office on a Sunday morning. The Narrator goes out of his way to visit him and make sure he gets food while there, even though Bartleby continues his apathetic behavior, until he commits suicide by starving himself to death.

This entire story is one big paradox. Why does the Narrator, a self respecting lawyer refuse to fire Bartleby for not doing what he is asked? Overall my main takeaway in reflecting on Bartleby was similar to Jason's - that we should try to get our own Bartleby's out of our respective "offices" as soon as they appear, rather than rationalizing them away.

I think it is interesting to reflect on the notion of "charity" as the narrator conceived of it, and more specifically, to reflect on how that conception colored his interactions with Bartleby.

I had difficulty figuring out whether the narrator ever really developed any sort of empathy for Bartleby. While he ostensibly displayed generosity towards Bartleby, the narrator's reasons for doing so seemed entirely self-interested, as he goes so far as to declare that helping Bartleby is "a sweet morsel to his conscience".

I saw the narrator as a prime example of one of those faceless cogs who does not realize the extent of his entrapment in the materialistic confines of the monotonous corporate machine. Even his 'generosity' and 'sympathy' toward Bartleby is defined in material terms. He tries to use what he deems 'charity' to buy or trade for a clear conscience rather than meaningfully reflecting on or actually dealing with Bartleby's refusals to cooperate with his requests.

It seems that his rationalizations function to suppress the cognitive dissonance that Bartleby's presence arouses. And so the next issue I began to ponder is how to assure we are not haunted similarly; how to identify our own Bartleby's if confronted with them rather than rationalizing their presence away, whether by "charity" to clear our consciences, or by other means.

Ultimately I think coming to inner resolution, avoiding a life haunted by a Bartleby-esque projection of yourself, is first identifying that you're being haunted, and subsequently committing to using that revelation to "inspire change in the face of self-realization and human awakening" as Meagan suggests.

So Meagan, I guess I'm not entirely sure whether Bartleby catalyzed a metamorphosis in the narrator, but I am at least hopeful that Bartleby has the capacity to serve as a ghost of Christmas future, if the person he is haunting is able to recognize that he is being haunted.

I felt the lesson learned from the story was that the narrator would never be rid of Bartleby, and instead he had to learn to incorporate Bartleby comfortably into the Narrator's office and soul. My first interpretation of Bartleby was that he represented the narrator's Freudian "id". Bartleby would simply prefer not to do real work. He wants to live in the office and subsist off of his co-workers, and store away money for use later. Turkey who has a proclivity for drinking believes Bartleby just needs to drink more.

Other lawyers and professionals perhaps representing the "super-ego" are disturbed by Barleby's presence; they are disturbed when confronted with the true desire of the narrator - somebody who prefers and chooses not to do work yet collects their money and ferrets it away in his desk. I felt like in order to restore cognitive peace, the narrator needed to stop shielding Bartleby behind a screeen, not make excuses for him i. Instead of running away from him the narrator needs to incorporate Bartleby into his office, and if he finds it too unbearable to be presented with such a figure, then he needs to change his id.

Like you, I saw Bartleby as a projection or a manifestation of the narrator's "id", and had the same idea that the narrator needed to stop shielding himself from Bartleby's presence, literally and metaphorically.

I actually don't think our views on what the ideal next step is i. What I was trying to articulate above was that after one recognizes the presence of Bartleby as a haunting force in their "office", they should strive to use that recognition to transform and become cognitively whole rather than rationalizing it away. Restoring that cognitive 'whole-ness' very well may mean incorporating Bartleby comfortably into one's soul, and before reading your post, I saw incorporation as synonymous with 'ridding oneself' of their Bartleby.

Essentially in my post above I defined self restoration as the evisceration of the haunting force whether through incorporating it or undertaking some other type of behavioral change. However, I appreciate you shedding light on the distinction between 'getting rid of' Bartleby which I think I equated with incorporating Bartleby and instead, in your words, "accept[ing] Bartleby for what he [is]", which is really a more accurate way to capture what incorporation really entails.

Like Courtney, I found Melville's description of charity to be interesting. The narrator says, "No man that I ever heard of, ever committed a diabolical murder for sweet charity's sake. I find this reminiscent of our class discussions on justice and working on the right side of law come two in the morning. The discussions generally take one of two paths: focusing on the clients we should aid in an effort to cure injustice, or focusing on ourselves, with the goal of not ending up in an unhappy job, divorced and drunk.

I wonder though, is self-interest sufficient a motivation for charitable work? For finding a meaningful job in the legal arena? Looking back on my own behavior I find that self-interest has been a powerful motivator in any "charitable" works or deeds I have done. Not self-interest in terms of furtherance of any individual goals, but self-interest in terms of "feel good" moments, instances when I can congratulate myself on being so "giving.

But how far does this extend? I doubt much farther than a days work, not to mention a lifetime of serving justice. But then again, Melville seems to think self-interest a powerful counterweight to murder so maybe it is a useful tool in shaping the behavior of humanity, even the most selfish self-interested members.

Perhaps after our class discussions, each of our desires not to end up empty vessels helping the highest socioeconomic class make more money will be enough of a motivation to aid us in finding noble work; helping clients who actually need it, not necessarily because of our pity or empathy, but because I for one, don't want to end up alone, drunk and unhappy at two in the morning. Like Eben pointed out during class, the Wall Street in this story is not the Wall Street we know now.

I find it difficult to see Bartleby as a corporate cog when I look at the context of the story, although it is definitely a good analogy when we look at it from our perspective now. I think "Bartleby" is about the salvation of all of our souls, lawyer or not. I mean, if you knew a person that acted like Bartleby, you'd be very concerned, think he was depressed, and try to get him some emotional help. Many people go along with life, while a part of them is thinking "Does my life have any meaning as I am leading it?

But I also think that part of us is where our humanity, and the ability to be happy and find meaning, lies. I think that is why the story ends with the line, "Ah Bartleby! Ah humanity! Like Skylar and Courtney have pointed out, I think Bartleby is that part of us that would be easier to be rid of, but need very much, in order to be whole.

Bartleby, for all his desire to disengage from the bleakness of the corporate world albeit a different Wall Street than we know today , cannot do more than say no to others. The nihilism Bartleby embraces is important in that it draws attention to the existence of these walls, but is an incomplete response in that it cannot break them down. This might echo what Eben said in class a bit, but I think this reveals the fact that saying no to others does not equate to saying yes to oneself.

Unwilling to topple the eminently safe, unambitious, snug life he has created for himself, the narrator directs his efforts at building those walls back up. Even though this class has repeatedly exposed me to the fact that I will be unhappy in a firm, I continue to tell myself that maybe this is an unhappiness I will have to be okay with.

I think that likely has something to do with the fact that we may be unwilling to follow the advice of one person when many other forces are pushing us in the opposite direction. This site is powered by the TWiki collaboration platform. All material on this collaboration platform is the property of the contributing authors.