Bartleby the scrivener full text pdf. Bartleby the Scrivener : Herman Melville : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive 2022-12-13
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"Bartleby the Scrivener" is a short story by Herman Melville, first published in 1853. It tells the story of a scrivener, or professional copyist, named Bartleby who is hired by a Wall Street lawyer to work in his office. At first, Bartleby is a model employee, diligent and efficient in his work. However, as time goes on, he begins to exhibit strange behavior, refusing to do certain tasks and eventually refusing to do any work at all.
The lawyer, who narrates the story, is initially sympathetic towards Bartleby and tries to understand his strange behavior. He tries to engage with Bartleby, asking him why he won't do certain tasks and offering him assistance. However, Bartleby remains reticent and refuses to explain his actions or engage with the lawyer in any meaningful way.
As Bartleby's behavior becomes more and more erratic, the lawyer becomes increasingly frustrated and begins to feel helpless in the face of Bartleby's refusal to engage with him or the demands of the workplace. Despite the lawyer's attempts to understand and help Bartleby, he eventually becomes fed up and has him removed from the office.
The story of Bartleby the Scrivener is a poignant and thought-provoking exploration of the nature of work, the meaning of individualism, and the limits of compassion. It raises questions about the role of the individual in society and the consequences of refusing to conform to societal norms.
Throughout the story, the lawyer grapples with his own feelings of guilt and responsibility towards Bartleby, ultimately struggling to balance his own needs and the demands of the workplace with his desire to help and understand the enigmatic scrivener. In the end, the story leaves the reader to ponder the deeper meaning behind Bartleby's strange behavior and the ultimate fate of the enigmatic scrivener.
Bartleby, the Scrivener: A Story of Wall
Such a proceeding would in a singular degree have the appearance of a home-thrust. At length, necessities connected with my business tyrannized over all other considerations. What shall I do? Bartleby, of his own free accord, would emerge from his hermitage, and take up some decided line of march in the direction of the door. The fourth I knew not who had. Shall I go and black his eyes? At all events, if nothing else could be decided upon, the alms-house must receive him. Old age—even if it blot the page—is honorable. But it dropped upon the floor, and then,—strange to say—I tore myself from him whom I had so longed to be rid of.
This, however, he did not do. But what could he be doing there? What do you think of it, Turkey? At the corner of Broadway and Canal-street, I saw quite an excited group of people standing in earnest conversation. Now what was ginger? I hinted that of course he did wisely in abstaining from writing for a while; and urged him to embrace that opportunity of taking wholesome exercise in the open air. Furthermore, I was full of uneasiness as to what Bartleby could possibly be doing in my office in his shirt sleeves, and in an otherwise dismantled condition of a Sunday morning. It was withdrawn; and being folded up like a huge folio, left him the motionless occupant of a naked room. I should have been quite delighted with his application, had he been cheerfully industrious. Sometimes, to be sure, I could not, for the very soul of me, avoid falling into sudden spasmodic passions with him.
Bartleby the Scrivener : Herman Melville : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive
Turkey was a short, pursy Englishman, of about my own age—that is, somewhere not far from sixty. Being under no disgraceful charge, and quite serene and harmless in all his ways, they had permitted him freely to wander about the prison, and especially in the inclosed grass-platted yard thereof. Every thing was methodically arranged, the papers smoothly placed. Also, they sent Ginger Nut very frequently for that peculiar cake—small, flat, round, and very spicy—after which he had been named by them. If now he lowered the table to his waistbands, and stooped over it in writing, then there was a sore aching in his back. Aside from higher considerations, charity often operates as a vastly wise and prudent principle — a great safeguard to its possessor. Nevertheless, next morning, upon awakening, I had my doubts,—I had somehow slept off the fumes of vanity.
[PDF] Bartleby, The Scrivener by Herman Melville eBook
I should have stated before that ground glass folding-doors divided my premises into two parts, one of which was occupied by my scriveners, the other by myself. . Every body is concerned; clients are leaving the offices; some fears are entertained of a mob; something you must do, and that without delay. 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. I remembered the tragedy of the unfortunate Adams and the still more unfortunate Colt in the solitary office of the latter; and how poor Colt, being dreadfully incensed by Adams, and imprudently permitting himself to get wildly excited, was at unawares hurried into his fatal act — an act which certainly no man could possibly deplore more than the actor himself. As days passed on, I became considerably reconciled to Bartleby.
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Bartleby, The Scrivener, by Herman Melville
You see 17 Bartleby the Scrivener how gentle I am, sir. Nothing reproachful attaches to you by being here. I determined again to postpone the consideration of this dilemma to my future leisure. To befriend Bartleby; to humor him in his strange willfulness, will cost me little or nothing, while I lay up in my soul what will eventually prove a sweet morsel for my conscience. I had imagined you of such a gentlemanly organization, that in any delicate dilemma a slight hint would have suffice—in short, an assumption. So after contemplating him in that position for a time, the attorney would depart, no wiser than he came. Surely you do not mean to persist in that mulish vagary? But not without sundry twinges of impotent rebellion against the mild effrontery of this unaccountable scrivener.
He was more a man of preferences than assumptions. This is very strange, thought I. It is one of the most profound and rewarding psychological novels in English. But it dropped upon the floor, and then,—strange to say—I tore myself from him whom I had so longed to be rid of. It was truly a beautiful thought to have assumed Bartleby's departure; but, after all, that assumption was simply my own, and none of Bartleby's. Masterly I call it, and such it must appear to any dispassionate thinker.
Bartleby, the Scrivener: A Story of Wall Street Full Text
Finally, I resolved upon this — I would put certain calm questions to him the next morning touching his history, etc. And upon what ground could you procure such a thing to be done? His coats were execrable; his hat not to be handled. What my own astonished eyes saw of Bartleby, that is all I know of him, except, indeed, one vague report which will appear in the sequel. Added to this, he always dressed in a 6 gentlemanly sort of way; and so, incidentally, reflected credit upon my chambers. He would be the last man to sit down to his desk in any state approaching to nudity.
Where there are two or more scriveners in an office, they assist each other in this examination, one reading from the copy, the other holding the original. I determined again to postpone the consideration of this dilemma to my future leisure. How it would prove in practice—there was the rub. Of a Sunday, Wall-street is deserted as Petra; and every night of every day it is an emptiness. In the legitimate carrying out of this assumption, I might enter my office in a great hurry, and pretending not to see Bartleby at all, walk straight against him as if he were air. The door was locked. Hence, though I belong to a profession proverbially energetic and nervous even to turbulence at times, yet nothing of that sort have I ever I AM A RATHER ELDERLY MAN.
And so I kept veering about. In plain fact, he had now become a millstone to me, not only useless as a necklace, but afflictive to bear. With the invention of the printing press, however, they were swiftly put out of business since presses weren't as prone to human mistakes and didn't take as much time to produce text. Within three feet of the panes was a wall, and the light came down from far above, between two lofty buildings, as from a very small opening in a dome. At length, necessities connected with my business tyrannized over all other considerations.
I returned to the charge. Now what sort of business would you like to engage in? I have known very many of them, professionally and privately, and if I pleased, could relate divers histories, at which goodnatured gentlemen might smile, and sentimental souls might weep. Where there are two or more scriveners in an office, they assist each other in this examination, one reading from the copy, the other holding the original. Scriveners were hired to write information using a typewriter since most people weren't capable of doing so. The boy would then leave the office jingling a few pence, and reappear with a handful of gingernuts, which he delivered in the hermitage, receiving two of the cakes for his trouble.
