Hi.
It’s Dr. Bernstein, and in this video, I’m going to provide you with some useful introductory
background information on Melville and “Bartleby.”
I’m going to start though by referring back to the two-part video series on American Romanticism.
As you recall, the Romantics placed a great deal of emphasis on nature, and I talked about
how writers of this time considered nature a restorative force—a place where people
could get in touch with their true selves
and ideas.
When reading Hawthorne’s “The Artist of the Beautiful,” you no doubt noticed how
Owen was often rejuvenated through his experiences in nature.
Well, artists of this time period also were fascinated with depicting the majesty of the
nation’s landscape and its horizons.
I strongly encourage you to take a moment or two to Google “Hudson
River Artists” and check out some of their work.
It’s stunning.
And it’s going to provide you with a stunning contrast to the world of Melville’s “Bartleby,”
which was first published in 1853.
Melville’s “Bartleby” presents us with an altogether different world.
Hawthorne’s Owen and Melville’s Bartleby might both be outsiders within their cultures,
but Owen has a vision—a beautiful idea that he is pursuing.
Bartleby, on the other hand, is not a creator; he doesn’t have a beautiful idea that he’s
pursuing.
He’s a scrivener—a person hired to make handwritten copies of legal documents.
He spends his time copying what others have said and done.
Bartleby doesn’t seem to have a creative or artistic vision, and his horizon—what
can be seen from within the walls of his office.
. .well, that’s something you should think about—and you should think about what Melville
might be suggesting about the corporate culture he depicts in the story.
As you’ll notice, Bartleby spends a great deal of time in his “dead-wall” reveries
(daydreams).
We don’t ever really learn what’s going on inside his mind.
And you will probably find this—as well as some other aspects of the short story—somewhat
maddening because we usually enter into stories hoping to learn something—hoping to really
get into the mind of the characters—especially the main character.
So when you start feeling frustrated, I recommend asking yourself what expectations you have
that aren’t being met and then thinking about what sort of message the story is conveying
about these expectations.
What message is this story sending about our ability to know others?
What strikes you as interesting about the narrator of the story and his knowledge of
Bartleby and himself?
Who is this story really about?
Bartleby or the narrator?
Before you head off to read the story, I want to leave you with some important background
information about Melville.
Some scholars claim that “Bartleby” is directly related
to Melville’s own experiences as a writer in his culture.
One of the problems Melville faced was that his early works—which were fictional travel
narratives—were very popular and sold well.
Both book publishers and the reading public wanted him to continue writing these popular
works.
In essence, they wanted him to keep copying what he had done before.
Melville wrote a letter to Hawthorne and described how “the calm, the coolness, the silent
grass-growing mood in which a man ought always to compose” could rarely be his.
“Dollars damn me.
. . .What I feel most moved to write, . . .will not pay.
Yet, altogether, write the other way I cannot.”
Melville wrote this letter while he was still working on Moby-Dick, which did not turn out
to be a bestseller during his lifetime, though it is now considered a classic of American
literature.
Melville knew that his more philosophically oriented works (like Moby-Dick and “Bartleby”)
were not going to be popular, but he resisted returning to “the other way.”
That is, he resisted turning to “his more successful earlier modes, the South sea romance
and the travel narrative” (Leo Marx 11).
One scholar argues that “Bartleby’s switch from copying what he is told to copy to staring
at the wall” is the “counterpart to that stage in Melville’s career when he shifted
from writing best-selling romances to a preoccupation with the philosophic themes which dominate.
. .Moby-Dick” and even “Bartleby” (18).
This scholar maintains that in the lawyer’s “eyes, as in the eyes of Melville’s critics
and the public, this stage of his career is artistically barren;
his turn to metaphysical themes is in fact the equivalent of ceasing to write” (19).
“In the judgment of his contemporaries, Melville’s later novels are no more meaningful
than Bartleby’s absurd habit of staring at the dead wall” (19).
I’m not a big fan of reducing the meaning or significance of a story to an author’s
background, but I think this interpretation is interesting and wanted to share it with
you.
So if you have any questions, feel free to get in touch.
And I hope you enjoy this intriguing and sometimes frustrating story.