Explore Herman Melville's classic American short story “Bartleby the Scrivener” with Charles Van Doren
Explore Herman Melville's classic American short story “Bartleby the Scrivener” with Charles Van Doren
Learn about Herman Melville's classic short story “Bartleby the Scrivener” from writer and editor Charles Van Doren in a 1969 film production of Encyclopædia Britannica Educational Corporation.
Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc.
Transcript
GINGER NUT: I think he's a little loony.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: A little loony? Crazy as a bedbug!
LAWYER: What I want is for you to say now that in a day or two you'll begin to be a little reasonable. Say so, Bartleby.
BARTLEBY: At present I would prefer not to be a little reasonable.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: Out of his mind. But do you blame him? No carbon paper, no stencils, no photocopying machine. Everything copied by hand, page after boring page. No wonder Bartleby was loony. But I don't think that's what the story's about. It's not about the fact that Bartleby is crazy. You can't write a good story, or a good novel or play, with an insane hero. And it seems quite clear to me that Bartleby is insane, or totally alienated, as we say nowadays.
It probably wasn't his fault. I don't deny that he was driven crazy and finally even killed by the heartless commercial system that he served. And this story is about that--at least in part. That heartless, inhuman commercial system is the background of the story--its context. No, the--the hero of the story isn't Bartleby; it's the lawyer. He has a safe, comfortable, good-humored look. He's well contented with his lot. At least he is at the beginning of the story. He's a very different man at the end of it. Bartleby is dead, but the lawyer, too, has been touched by death. He's suffered, not as much as Bartleby, but he's suffered. He's also learned something. But how has he suffered? What has he learned? It would help if we could ask him.
Sir . . . sir . . . sir . . .what's the matter? Why do you look so sad? Surely you're not responsible. Of course, he doesn't respond. He's a character in a story; he can't answer our questions. No matter how much we may want him to, he--he never will. He's forever silent, just as Herman Melville is, the author of the story. We can't ask the lawyer our questions any more than we can ask Melville. We have to figure it out for ourselves.
We know what happens in the story. The lawyer has advertised for a copyist, a scrivener, as they used to be called, and Bartleby applies for the job. At first he's an excellent worker--quiet, unobtrusive, efficient. But then the--the trouble starts.
LAWYER: Bartleby, come here, please. I have some copy to examine.
BARTLEBY: I would prefer not to.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: It gets worse and worse; Bartleby gets more and more stubborn. And naturally enough, the--the lawyer decides to fire him. But Bartleby won't leave. He prefers not to.
LAWYER: At last I can see the purpose of my life, Bartleby, and I'm content. Others may have more important roles to play, but my mission in this world, Bartleby, is to provide you with office space for as long as you may choose to remain.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: So far, so good. And this arrangement, crazy as it is, might even have worked if they'd been alone in the world. But, of course, they're not. There are other workers in the office and there are strangers.
ATTORNEY: Psst. Run around to my office and ask my secretary for the papers on Peabody versus Fenton. Run along and fetch them back quick.
BARTLEBY: I would prefer not to.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: The lawyer begins to be embarrassed. He feels he has to do something, and so he decides that if Bartleby won't leave, he will. A peculiar way out of the difficulty--but then, Bartleby is a highly peculiar problem. But even after all of this, the problem still isn't solved.
LANDLORD: These gentlemen are my tenants and they can't stand it any longer. Mr. Atlee forced your man from the office and now he haunts the rest of the building. In the daytime he perches on the stairs. At night he sleeps in the hall. He disrupts everything. Clients are leaving the offices. You must do something immediately!
CHARLES VAN DOREN: The lawyer objects, of course. How can they be so unfair?
LAWYER: But he's nothing to me. I've no more to do with him than anyone else.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: Nevertheless, he does try to do something; he goes to his old office and talks to Bartleby. He asks him if he'd like his old job back. No, Bartleby would prefer not to. Would he like to be a salesclerk? No, too confining. A bartender? No. Take a trip to Europe? No. Finally, he offers to receive Bartleby as a guest in his own home. No. Bartleby prefers not to make any change at all. And so, the inevitable happens.
LAWYER: They've sent him to prison.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: But the lawyer can't forget about him, even when he's safely out of the way.
LAWYER: Bartleby.
BARTLEBY: I know you, and I have nothing to say to you.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: And then, of course, Bartleby dies. What else can he do? He won't eat, he won't speak, he's the "silent man."
GRUB MAN: He's asleep, ain't he?
LAWYER: With kings and counsellors.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: And that's the story--a strange one and strangely moving. But why? What does it mean? I said we had to understand it in its own terms, but what's the key to it?
I suggested that Bartleby isn't the hero but that the lawyer is--in a special sense of hero, of course. The lawyer's the one that Bartleby "happens to." Bartleby's a problem that is posed for the lawyer almost by fate, as the Greeks would have said. But what exactly is the problem? I think I can answer the question by asking another question. What do we owe to a man as such? We know we owe something to a friend because he's a friend. We owe something to our parents, or to our children, because of their special relation to us. We owe something to our teachers if we're students, and to our students if we're teachers, and so on and so forth. We even owe something to our employees if we own a business and hire people. But Bartleby wasn't any of these things. He wasn't an employee--he'd been fired; he wasn't a friend or relative of the lawyer; he was nothing but another man--a human being. What does the lawyer owe him? Is he responsible for him?
LAWYER: He's nothing to me. I've no more to do with him than anyone else.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: I sympathize and I expect you do, too. Most of us don't want to get involved with someone who doesn't mean anything to us. But you see, that's just the problem. Is there anyone, really, any human being who doesn't mean anything to us?
LAWYER: "A new commandment give I unto you, that ye love one another."
CHARLES VAN DOREN: That's the key to the story, I think--the heart of its meaning--that ye love one another. The story's about the love one man owes another, just because he's a man--not an animal or a tree or a stone--just because he's a human being.
It's a tremendously important problem, and not only for the lawyer, but for all of us. It's one of the great problems of human life on earth, and we face it every day--whenever we see someone in distress, someone we don't know but who's nevertheless in trouble, someone we just see a picture of or just hear about. Most of the time our impulse is to turn our backs, to--to hurry on, to go about our own business. There isn't time or strength to do everything, we say to ourselves. Let someone else be responsible for him. But we don't feel so good when we do that. The lawyer, now, he was a pretty good person--certainly not a bad man--and he'd been provoked by Bartleby, no question about that. But he ended up feeling rotten. I don't know what else he really could have done, but because he couldn't figure out anything else to do, he ended up feeling rotten, kneeling in a prison yard with a dead man at his feet. And that's what I think the story's all about. Of course, you may have a different idea.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: A little loony? Crazy as a bedbug!
LAWYER: What I want is for you to say now that in a day or two you'll begin to be a little reasonable. Say so, Bartleby.
BARTLEBY: At present I would prefer not to be a little reasonable.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: Out of his mind. But do you blame him? No carbon paper, no stencils, no photocopying machine. Everything copied by hand, page after boring page. No wonder Bartleby was loony. But I don't think that's what the story's about. It's not about the fact that Bartleby is crazy. You can't write a good story, or a good novel or play, with an insane hero. And it seems quite clear to me that Bartleby is insane, or totally alienated, as we say nowadays.
It probably wasn't his fault. I don't deny that he was driven crazy and finally even killed by the heartless commercial system that he served. And this story is about that--at least in part. That heartless, inhuman commercial system is the background of the story--its context. No, the--the hero of the story isn't Bartleby; it's the lawyer. He has a safe, comfortable, good-humored look. He's well contented with his lot. At least he is at the beginning of the story. He's a very different man at the end of it. Bartleby is dead, but the lawyer, too, has been touched by death. He's suffered, not as much as Bartleby, but he's suffered. He's also learned something. But how has he suffered? What has he learned? It would help if we could ask him.
Sir . . . sir . . . sir . . .what's the matter? Why do you look so sad? Surely you're not responsible. Of course, he doesn't respond. He's a character in a story; he can't answer our questions. No matter how much we may want him to, he--he never will. He's forever silent, just as Herman Melville is, the author of the story. We can't ask the lawyer our questions any more than we can ask Melville. We have to figure it out for ourselves.
We know what happens in the story. The lawyer has advertised for a copyist, a scrivener, as they used to be called, and Bartleby applies for the job. At first he's an excellent worker--quiet, unobtrusive, efficient. But then the--the trouble starts.
LAWYER: Bartleby, come here, please. I have some copy to examine.
BARTLEBY: I would prefer not to.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: It gets worse and worse; Bartleby gets more and more stubborn. And naturally enough, the--the lawyer decides to fire him. But Bartleby won't leave. He prefers not to.
LAWYER: At last I can see the purpose of my life, Bartleby, and I'm content. Others may have more important roles to play, but my mission in this world, Bartleby, is to provide you with office space for as long as you may choose to remain.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: So far, so good. And this arrangement, crazy as it is, might even have worked if they'd been alone in the world. But, of course, they're not. There are other workers in the office and there are strangers.
ATTORNEY: Psst. Run around to my office and ask my secretary for the papers on Peabody versus Fenton. Run along and fetch them back quick.
BARTLEBY: I would prefer not to.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: The lawyer begins to be embarrassed. He feels he has to do something, and so he decides that if Bartleby won't leave, he will. A peculiar way out of the difficulty--but then, Bartleby is a highly peculiar problem. But even after all of this, the problem still isn't solved.
LANDLORD: These gentlemen are my tenants and they can't stand it any longer. Mr. Atlee forced your man from the office and now he haunts the rest of the building. In the daytime he perches on the stairs. At night he sleeps in the hall. He disrupts everything. Clients are leaving the offices. You must do something immediately!
CHARLES VAN DOREN: The lawyer objects, of course. How can they be so unfair?
LAWYER: But he's nothing to me. I've no more to do with him than anyone else.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: Nevertheless, he does try to do something; he goes to his old office and talks to Bartleby. He asks him if he'd like his old job back. No, Bartleby would prefer not to. Would he like to be a salesclerk? No, too confining. A bartender? No. Take a trip to Europe? No. Finally, he offers to receive Bartleby as a guest in his own home. No. Bartleby prefers not to make any change at all. And so, the inevitable happens.
LAWYER: They've sent him to prison.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: But the lawyer can't forget about him, even when he's safely out of the way.
LAWYER: Bartleby.
BARTLEBY: I know you, and I have nothing to say to you.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: And then, of course, Bartleby dies. What else can he do? He won't eat, he won't speak, he's the "silent man."
GRUB MAN: He's asleep, ain't he?
LAWYER: With kings and counsellors.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: And that's the story--a strange one and strangely moving. But why? What does it mean? I said we had to understand it in its own terms, but what's the key to it?
I suggested that Bartleby isn't the hero but that the lawyer is--in a special sense of hero, of course. The lawyer's the one that Bartleby "happens to." Bartleby's a problem that is posed for the lawyer almost by fate, as the Greeks would have said. But what exactly is the problem? I think I can answer the question by asking another question. What do we owe to a man as such? We know we owe something to a friend because he's a friend. We owe something to our parents, or to our children, because of their special relation to us. We owe something to our teachers if we're students, and to our students if we're teachers, and so on and so forth. We even owe something to our employees if we own a business and hire people. But Bartleby wasn't any of these things. He wasn't an employee--he'd been fired; he wasn't a friend or relative of the lawyer; he was nothing but another man--a human being. What does the lawyer owe him? Is he responsible for him?
LAWYER: He's nothing to me. I've no more to do with him than anyone else.
CHARLES VAN DOREN: I sympathize and I expect you do, too. Most of us don't want to get involved with someone who doesn't mean anything to us. But you see, that's just the problem. Is there anyone, really, any human being who doesn't mean anything to us?
LAWYER: "A new commandment give I unto you, that ye love one another."
CHARLES VAN DOREN: That's the key to the story, I think--the heart of its meaning--that ye love one another. The story's about the love one man owes another, just because he's a man--not an animal or a tree or a stone--just because he's a human being.
It's a tremendously important problem, and not only for the lawyer, but for all of us. It's one of the great problems of human life on earth, and we face it every day--whenever we see someone in distress, someone we don't know but who's nevertheless in trouble, someone we just see a picture of or just hear about. Most of the time our impulse is to turn our backs, to--to hurry on, to go about our own business. There isn't time or strength to do everything, we say to ourselves. Let someone else be responsible for him. But we don't feel so good when we do that. The lawyer, now, he was a pretty good person--certainly not a bad man--and he'd been provoked by Bartleby, no question about that. But he ended up feeling rotten. I don't know what else he really could have done, but because he couldn't figure out anything else to do, he ended up feeling rotten, kneeling in a prison yard with a dead man at his feet. And that's what I think the story's all about. Of course, you may have a different idea.