Bartleby, the Scrivener: A Story of Wall-street

I AM a rather elderly man. The nature of my avocations for the 1 last thirty years has brought me into more than ordinary contact with what would seem an interesting and somewhat singular set of men, of whom as yet nothing that I know of has ever been written:I mean the law-co yists or scriveners. I have known very many of them, rofessionally and rivately, and if I leased, could relate divers histories, at which good-natured gentlemen might smile, and sentimental souls might wee . !ut I waive the biogra hies of all other scriveners for a few assages in the life of !artleby, who was a scrivener the strangest I ever saw or heard of. "hile of other law-co yists I might write the com lete life, of !artleby nothing of that sort can be done. I believe that no materials e#ist for a full and satisfactory biogra hy of this man. It is an irre arable loss to literature. !artleby was one of those beings of whom nothing is ascertainable, e#ce t from the original sources, and in his case those are very small. "hat my own astonished eyes saw of !artleby, that is all I know of him, e#ce t, indeed, one vague re ort which will a ear in the se$uel. %re introducing the scrivener, as he first a eared to me, it is 2 fit I make some mention of myself, my employes, my business, my chambers, and general surroundings& because some such descri tion is indis ensable to an ade$uate understanding of the chief character about to be resented. Im rimis: I am a man who, from his youth u wards, has been 3 filled with a rofound conviction that the easiest way of life is the best. 'ence, though I belong to a rofession roverbially energetic and nervous, even to turbulence, at times, yet nothing of that sort have I ever suffered to invade my eace. I am one of those unambitious lawyers who never addresses a (ury, or in any way draws down ublic a lause& but in the cool tran$uillity of a snug retreat, do a snug business among rich men)s bonds and mortgages and title-deeds. All who know me consider me

an eminently safe man. The late *ohn *acob Astor, a ersonage little given to oetic enthusiasm, had no hesitation in ronouncing my first grand oint to be rudence& my ne#t, method. I do not s eak it in vanity, but sim ly record the fact, that I was not unem loyed in my rofession by the late *ohn *acob Astor& a name which, I admit, I love to re eat, for it hath a rounded and orbicular sound to it, and rings like unto bullion. I will freely add, that I was not insensible to the late *ohn *acob Astor)s good o inion. +ome time rior to the eriod at which this little history begins, 4 my avocations had been largely increased. The good old office, now e#tinct in the +tate of ,ew--ork, of a Master in .hancery, had been conferred u on me. It was not a very arduous office, but very leasantly remunerative. I seldom lose my tem er& much more seldom indulge in dangerous indignation at wrongs and outrages& but I must be ermitted to be rash here and declare, that I consider the sudden and violent abrogation of the office of Master of .hancery, by the new .onstitution, as a remature act& inasmuch as I had counted u on a life-lease of the rofits, whereas I only received those of a few short years. !ut this is by the way. My chambers were u stairs at ,o. "all-street. At one end 5 they looked u on the white wall of the interior of a s acious skylight shaft, enetrating the building from to to bottom. This view might have been considered rather tame than otherwise, deficient in what landsca e ainters call /life.0 !ut if so, the view from the other end of my chambers offered, at least, a contrast, if nothing more. In that direction my windows commanded an unobstructed view of a lofty brick wall, black by age and everlasting shade& which wall re$uired no s y-glass to bring out its lurking beauties, but for the benefit of all near-sighted s ectators, was ushed u to within ten feet of my window anes. 1wing to the great height of the surrounding buildings, and my chambers being on the second floor, the interval between this wall and mine not a little resembled a huge s$uare

cistern. At the eriod (ust receding the advent of !artleby, I had two 6 ersons as co yists in my em loyment, and a romising lad as an office-boy. 2irst, Turkey& second, ,i ers& third, 3inger ,ut. These may seem names, the like of which are not usually found in the 4irectory. In truth they were nicknames, mutually conferred u on each other by my three clerks, and were deemed e# ressive of their res ective ersons or characters. Turkey was a short, ursy %nglishman of about my own age, that is, somewhere not far from si#ty. In the morning, one might say, his face was of a fine florid hue, but after twelve o)clock, meridianhis dinner hourit bla5ed like a grate full of .hristmas coals& and continued bla5ingbut, as it were, with a gradual wanetill 6 o)clock, 7. M. or thereabouts, after which I saw no more of the ro rietor of the face, which gaining its meridian with the sun, seemed to set with it, to rise, culminate, and decline the following day, with the like regularity and undiminished glory. There are many singular coincidences I have known in the course of my life, not the least among which was the fact, that e#actly when Turkey dis layed his fullest beams from his red and radiant countenance, (ust then, too, at that critical moment, began the daily eriod when I considered his business ca acities as seriously disturbed for the remainder of the twenty-four hours. ,ot that he was absolutely idle, or averse to business then& far from it. The difficulty was, he was a t to be altogether too energetic. There was a strange, inflamed, flurried, flighty recklessness of activity about him. 'e would be incautious in di ing his en into his inkstand. All his blots u on my documents, were dro ed there after twelve o)clock, meridian. Indeed, not only would he be reckless and sadly given to making blots in the afternoon, but some days he went further, and was rather noisy. At such times, too, his face flamed with augmented bla5onry, as if cannel coal had been hea ed on anthracite. 'e made an un leasant racket with his chair& s illed his sand-bo#& in mending his ens, im atiently

s lit them all to ieces, and threw them on the floor in a sudden assion& stood u and leaned over his table, bo#ing his a ers about in a most indecorous manner, very sad to behold in an elderly man like him. ,evertheless, as he was in many ways a most valuable erson to me, and all the time before twelve o)clock, meridian, was the $uickest, steadiest creature too, accom lishing a great deal of work in a style not easy to be matchedfor these reasons, I was willing to overlook his eccentricities, though indeed, occasionally, I remonstrated with him. I did this very gently, however, because, though the civilest, nay, the blandest and most reverential of men in the morning, yet in the afternoon he was dis osed, u on rovocation, to be slightly rash with his tongue, in fact, insolent. ,ow, valuing his morning services as I did, and resolved not to lose them& yet, at the same time made uncomfortable by his inflamed ways after twelve o)clock& and being a man of eace, unwilling by my admonitions to call forth unseemly retorts from him& I took u on me, one +aturday noon 8he was always worse on +aturdays9, to hint to him, very kindly, that erha s now that he was growing old, it might be well to abridge his labors& in short, he need not come to my chambers after twelve o)clock, but, dinner over, had best go home to his lodgings and rest himself till tea-time. !ut no& he insisted u on his afternoon devotions. 'is countenance became intolerably fervid, as he oratorically assured megesticulating with a long ruler at the other end of the roomthat if his services in the morning were useful, how indis ensible, then, in the afternoon: /"ith submission, sir,0 said Turkey on this occasion, /I 7 consider myself your right-hand man. In the morning I but marshal and de loy my columns& but in the afternoon I ut myself at their head, and gallantly charge the foe, thus;0and he made a violent thrust with the ruler. /!ut the blots, Turkey,0 intimated I. 8 /True,but, with submission, sir, behold these hairs; I am 9 getting old. +urely, sir, a blot or two of a warm afternoon is not

to be severely urged against gray hairs. 1ld ageeven if it blot the ageis honorable. "ith submission, sir, we both are getting old.0 This a eal to my fellow-feeling was hardly to be resisted. At 10 all events, I saw that go he would not. +o I made u my mind to let him stay, resolving, nevertheless, to see to it, that during the afternoon he had to do with my less im ortant a ers. ,i ers, the second on my list, was a whiskered, sallow, and, 11 u on the whole, rather iratical-looking young man of about five and twenty. I always deemed him the victim of two evil owers ambition and indigestion. The ambition was evinced by a certain im atience of the duties of a mere co yist, an unwarrantable usur ation of strictly rofessional affairs, such as the original drawing u of legal documents. The indigestion seemed betokened in an occasional nervous testiness and grinning irritability, causing the teeth to audibly grind together over mistakes committed in co ying& unnecessary maledictions, hissed, rather than s oken, in the heat of business& and es ecially by a continual discontent with the height of the table where he worked. Though of a very ingenious mechanical turn, ,i ers could never get this table to suit him. 'e ut chi s under it, blocks of various sorts, bits of asteboard, and at last went so far as to attem t an e#$uisite ad(ustment by final ieces of folded blotting- a er. !ut no invention would answer. If, for the sake of easing his back, he brought the table lid at a shar angle well u towards his chin, and wrote there like a man using the stee roof of a 4utch house for his desk:then he declared that it sto ed the circulation in his arms. If now he lowered the table to his waistbands, and stoo ed over it in writing, then there was a sore aching in his back. In short, the truth of the matter was, ,i ers knew not what he wanted. 1r, if he wanted any thing, it was to be rid of a scrivener)s table altogether. Among the manifestations of his diseased ambition was a fondness he had for receiving visits from certain ambiguous-looking fellows in seedy coats, whom he called his

clients. Indeed I was aware that not only was he, at times, considerable of a ward- olitician, but he occasionally did a little business at the *ustices) courts, and was not unknown on the ste s of the Tombs. I have good reason to believe, however, that one individual who called u on him at my chambers, and who, with a grand air, he insisted was his client, was no other than a dun, and the alleged title-deed, a bill. !ut with all his failings, and the annoyances he caused me, ,i ers, like his com atriot Turkey, was a very useful man to me& wrote a neat, swift hand& and, when he chose, was not deficient in a gentlemanly sort of de ortment. Added to this, he always dressed in a gentlemanly sort of way& and so, incidentally, reflected credit u on my chambers. "hereas with res ect to Turkey, I had much ado to kee him from being a re roach to me. 'is clothes were a t to look oily and smell of eatinghouses. 'e wore his antaloons very loose and baggy in summer. 'is coats were e#ecrable& his hat not be to handled. !ut while the hat was a thing of indifference to me, inasmuch as his natural civility and deference, as a de endent %nglishman, always led him to doff it the moment he entered the room, yet his coat was another matter. .oncerning his coats, I reasoned with him& but with no effect. The truth was, I su ose, that a man with so small an income, could not afford to s ort such a lustrous face and a lustrous coat at one and the same time. As ,i ers once observed, Turkey)s money went chiefly for red ink. 1ne winter day I resented Turkey with a highlyres ectable looking coat of my own, a added gray coat, of a most comfortable warmth, and which buttoned straight u from the knee to the neck. I thought Turkey would a reciate the favor, and abate his rashness and obstre erousness of afternoons. !ut no. I verily believe that buttoning himself u in so downy and blanket-like a coat had a ernicious effect u on him& u on the same rinci le that too much oats are bad for horses. In fact, recisely as a rash, restive horse is said to feel his oats, so Turkey felt his coat. It made him insolent. 'e was a

man whom ros erity harmed. Though concerning the self-indulgent habits of Turkey I had 12 my own rivate surmises, yet touching ,i ers I was well ersuaded that whatever might be his faults in other res ects, he was, at least, a tem erate young man. !ut indeed, nature herself seemed to have been his vintner, and at his birth charged him so thoroughly with an irritable, brandy-like dis osition, that all subse$uent otations were needless. "hen I consider how, amid the stillness of my chambers, ,i ers would sometimes im atiently rise from his seat, and stoo ing over his table, s read his arms wide a art, sei5e the whole desk, and move it, and (erk it, with a grim, grinding motion on the floor, as if the table were a erverse voluntary agent, intent on thwarting and ve#ing him& I lainly erceive that for ,i ers, brandy and water were altogether su erfluous. It was fortunate for me that, owing to its eculiar cause 13 indigestionthe irritability and conse$uent nervousness of ,i ers, were mainly observable in the morning, while in the afternoon he was com aratively mild. +o that Turkey)s aro#ysms only coming on about twelve o)clock, I never had to do with their eccentricities at one time. Their fits relieved each other like guards. "hen ,i ers) was on, Turkey)s was off& and vice versa. This was a good natural arrangement under the circumstances. 3inger ,ut, the third on my list, was a lad some twelve years 14 old. 'is father was a carman, ambitious of seeing his son on the bench instead of a cart, before he died. +o he sent him to my office as student at law, errand boy, and cleaner and swee er, at the rate of one dollar a week. 'e had a little desk to himself, but he did not use it much. < on ins ection, the drawer e#hibited a great array of the shells of various sorts of nuts. Indeed, to this $uick-witted youth the whole noble science of the law was contained in a nut-shell. ,ot the least among the em loyments of 3inger ,ut, as well as one which he discharged with the most alacrity, was his duty as cake and

a le urveyor for Turkey and ,i ers. .o ying law a ers being roverbially a dry, husky sort of business, my two scriveners were fain to moisten their mouths very often with + it5enbergs to be had at the numerous stalls nigh the .ustom 'ouse and 7ost 1ffice. Also, they sent 3inger ,ut very fre$uently for that eculiar cakesmall, flat, round, and very s icyafter which he had been named by them. 1f a cold morning when business was but dull, Turkey would gobble u scores of these cakes, as if they were mere wafersindeed they sell them at the rate of si# or eight for a ennythe scra e of his en blending with the crunching of the cris articles in his mouth. 1f all the fiery afternoon blunders and flurried rashnesses of Turkey, was his once moistening a ginger-cake between his li s, and cla ing it on to a mortgage for a seal. I came within an ace of dismissing him then. !ut he mollified me by making an oriental bow, and saying/"ith submission, sir, it was generous of me to find you in stationery on my own account.0 ,ow my original businessthat of a conveyancer and title 15 hunter, and drawer-u of recondite documents of all sortswas considerably increased by receiving the master)s office. There was now great work for scriveners. ,ot only must I ush the clerks already with me, but I must have additional hel . In answer to my advertisement, a motionless young man one morning, stood u on my office threshold, the door being o en, for it was summer. I can see that figure now allidly neat, itiably res ectable, incurably forlorn; It was !artleby. After a few words touching his $ualifications, I engaged him, 16 glad to have among my cor s of co yists a man of so singularly sedate an as ect, which I thought might o erate beneficially u on the flighty tem er of Turkey, and the fiery one of ,i ers. I should have stated before that ground glass folding-doors 17 divided my remises into two arts, one of which was occu ied by my scriveners, the other by myself. According to my humor I threw o en these doors, or closed them. I resolved to assign

!artleby a corner by the folding-doors, but on my side of them, so as to have this $uiet man within easy call, in case any trifling thing was to be done. I laced his desk close u to a small sidewindow in that art of the room, a window which originally had afforded a lateral view of certain grimy back-yards and bricks, but which, owing to subse$uent erections, commanded at resent no view at all, though it gave some light. "ithin three feet of the anes was a wall, and the light came down from far above, between two lofty buildings, as from a very small o ening in a dome. +till further to a satisfactory arrangement, I rocured a high green folding screen, which might entirely isolate !artleby from my sight, though not remove him from my voice. And thus, in a manner, rivacy and society were con(oined. At first !artleby did an e#traordinary $uantity of writing. As if 18 long famishing for something to co y, he seemed to gorge himself on my documents. There was no ause for digestion. 'e ran a day and night line, co ying by sun-light and by candlelight. I should have been $uite delighted with his a lication, had be been cheerfully industrious. !ut he wrote on silently, alely, mechanically. It is, of course, an indis ensable art of a scrivener)s business 19 to verify the accuracy of his co y, word by word. "here there are two or more scriveners in an office, they assist each other in this e#amination, one reading from the co y, the other holding the original. It is a very dull, wearisome, and lethargic affair. I can readily imagine that to some sanguine tem eraments it would be altogether intolerable. 2or e#am le, I cannot credit that the mettlesome oet !yron would have contentedly sat down with !artleby to e#amine a law document of, say five hundred ages, closely written in a crim y hand. ,ow and then, in the haste of business, it had been my habit 20 to assist in com aring some brief document myself, calling Turkey or ,i ers for this ur ose. 1ne ob(ect I had in lacing !artleby so handy to me behind the screen, was to avail myself

of his services on such trivial occasions. It was on the third day, I think, of his being with me, and before any necessity had arisen for having his own writing e#amined, that, being much hurried to com lete a small affair I had in hand, I abru tly called to !artleby. In my haste and natural e# ectancy of instant com liance, I sat with my head bent over the original on my desk, and my right hand sideways, and somewhat nervously e#tended with the co y, so that immediately u on emerging from his retreat, !artleby might snatch it and roceed to business without the least delay. In this very attitude did I sit when I called to him, ra idly stating what it was I wanted him to donamely, to e#amine a small a er with me. Imagine my sur rise, nay, my consternation, when without moving from his rivacy, !artleby in a singularly mild, firm voice, re lied, /I would refer not to.0 I sat awhile in erfect silence, rallying my stunned faculties. Immediately it occurred to me that my ears had deceived me, or !artleby had entirely misunderstood my meaning. I re eated my re$uest in the clearest tone I could assume. !ut in $uite as clear a one came the revious re ly, /I would refer not to.0 /7refer not to,0 echoed I, rising in high e#citement, and crossing the room with a stride. /"hat do you mean: Are you moon-struck: I want you to hel me com are this sheet here take it,0 and I thrust it towards him. /I would refer not to,0 said he. I looked at him steadfastly. 'is face was leanly com osed& his gray eye dimly calm. ,ot a wrinkle of agitation ri led him. 'ad there been the least uneasiness, anger, im atience or im ertinence in his manner& in other words, had there been any thing ordinarily human about him, doubtless I should have violently dismissed him from the remises. !ut as it was, I should have as soon thought of turning my ale laster-of- aris bust of .icero out of doors. I stood ga5ing at him awhile, as he went on with his own writing, and then reseated myself at my

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desk. This is very strange, thought I. "hat had one best do: !ut my business hurried me. I concluded to forget the matter for the resent, reserving it for my future leisure. +o calling ,i ers from the other room, the a er was s eedily e#amined. A few days after this, !artleby concluded four lengthy documents, being $uadru licates of a week)s testimony taken before me in my 'igh .ourt of .hancery. It became necessary to e#amine them. It was an im ortant suit, and great accuracy was im erative. 'aving all things arranged I called Turkey, ,i ers and 3inger ,ut from the ne#t room, meaning to lace the four co ies in the hands of my four clerks, while I should read from the original. Accordingly Turkey, ,i ers and 3inger ,ut had taken their seats in a row, each with his document in hand, when I called to !artleby to (oin this interesting grou . /!artleby; $uick, I am waiting.0 I heard a slow scra e of his chair legs on the uncar eted floor, and soon he a eared standing at the entrance of his hermitage. /"hat is wanted:0 said he mildly. /The co ies, the co ies,0 said I hurriedly. /"e are going to e#amine them. There0and I held towards him the fourth $uadru licate. /I would refer not to,0 he said, and gently disa eared behind the screen. 2or a few moments I was turned into a illar of salt, standing at the head of my seated column of clerks. =ecovering myself, I advanced towards the screen, and demanded the reason for such e#traordinary conduct. hy do you refuse:0 /I would refer not to.0 "ith any other man I should have flown outright into a dreadful assion, scorned all further words, and thrust him ignominiously from my resence. !ut there was something about !artleby that not only strangely disarmed me, but in a wonderful manner

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touched and disconcerted me. I began to reason with him. /These are your own co ies we are about to e#amine. It is labor saving to you, because one e#amination will answer for your four a ers. It is common usage. %very co yist is bound to hel e#amine his co y. Is it not so: "ill you not s eak: Answer;0 /I refer not to,0 he re lied in a flute-like tone. It seemed to me that while I had been addressing him, he carefully revolved every statement that I made& fully com rehended the meaning& could not gainsay the irresistible conclusion& but, at the same time, some aramount consideration revailed with him to re ly as he did. /-ou are decided, then, not to com ly with my re$uesta re$uest made according to common usage and common sense:0 'e briefly gave me to understand that on that oint my (udgment was sound. -es: his decision was irreversible. It is not seldom the case that when a man is browbeaten in some un recedented and violently unreasonable way, he begins to stagger in his own lainest faith. 'e begins, as it were, vaguely to surmise that, wonderful as it may be, all the (ustice and all the reason is on the other side. Accordingly, if any disinterested ersons are resent, he turns to them for some reinforcement for his own faltering mind. /Turkey,0 said I, /what do you think of this: Am I not right:0 /"ith submission, sir,0 said Turkey, with his blandest tone, /I think that you are.0 /,i ers,0 said I, /what do yo! think of it:0 /I think I should kick him out of the office.0 8The reader of nice erce tions will here erceive that, it being morning, Turkey)s answer is couched in olite and tran$uil terms, but ,i ers re lies in ill-tem ered ones. 1r, to re eat a revious sentence, ,i ers)s ugly mood was on duty, and Turkey)s off.9

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/3inger ,ut,0 said I, willing to enlist the smallest suffrage in my behalf, /what do yo! think of it:0 /I think, sir, he)s a little l!"y,# re lied 3inger ,ut, with a grin. /-ou hear what they say,0 said I, turning towards the screen, /come forth and do your duty.0 !ut he vouchsafed no re ly. I ondered a moment in sore er le#ity. !ut once more business hurried me. I determined again to ost one the consideration of this dilemma to my future leisure. "ith a little trouble we made out to e#amine the a ers without !artleby, though at every age or two, Turkey deferentially dro ed his o inion that this roceeding was $uite out of the common& while ,i ers, twitching in his chair with a dys e tic nervousness, ground out between his set teeth occasional hissing maledictions against the stubborn oaf behind the screen. And for his 8,i ers)s9 art, this was the first and the last time he would do another man)s business without ay. Meanwhile !artleby sat in his hermitage, oblivious to every thing but his own eculiar business there. +ome days assed, the scrivener being em loyed u on another lengthy work. 'is late remarkable conduct led me to regard his ways narrowly. I observed that he never went to dinner& indeed that he never went any where. As yet I had never of my ersonal knowledge known him to be outside of my office. 'e was a er etual sentry in the corner. At about eleven o)clock though, in the morning, I noticed that 3inger ,ut would advance toward the o ening in !artleby)s screen, as if silently beckoned thither by a gesture invisible to me where I sat. The boy would then leave the office (ingling a few ence, and rea ear with a handful of ginger-nuts which he delivered in the hermitage, receiving two of the cakes for his trouble. 'e lives, then, on ginger-nuts, thought I& never eats a dinner, ro erly s eaking& he must be a vegetarian then& but no& he never eats even vegetables, he eats nothing but ginger-nuts. My mind then ran on in reveries concerning the robable effects

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u on the human constitution of living entirely on ginger-nuts. 3inger-nuts are so called because they contain ginger as one of their eculiar constituents, and the final flavoring one. ,ow what was ginger: A hot, s icy thing. "as !artleby hot and s icy: ,ot at all. 3inger, then, had no effect u on !artleby. 7robably he referred it should have none. ,othing so aggravates an earnest erson as a assive resistance. If the individual so resisted be of a not inhumane tem er, and the resisting one erfectly harmless in his assivity& then, in the better moods of the former, he will endeavor charitably to construe to his imagination what roves im ossible to be solved by his (udgment. %ven so, for the most art, I regarded !artleby and his ways. 7oor fellow; thought I, he means no mischief& it is lain he intends no insolence& his as ect sufficiently evinces that his eccentricities are involuntary. 'e is useful to me. I can get along with him. If I turn him away, the chances are he will fall in with some less indulgent em loyer, and then he will be rudely treated, and erha s driven forth miserably to starve. -es. 'ere I can chea ly urchase a delicious self-a roval. To befriend !artleby& to humor him in his strange wilfulness, will cost me little or nothing, while I lay u in my soul what will eventually rove a sweet morsel for my conscience. !ut this mood was not invariable with me. The assiveness of !artleby sometimes irritated me. I felt strangely goaded on to encounter him in new o osition, to elicit some angry s ark from him answerable to my own. !ut indeed I might as well have essayed to strike fire with my knuckles against a bit of "indsor soa . !ut one afternoon the evil im ulse in me mastered me, and the following little scene ensued: /!artleby,0 said I, /when those a ers are all co ied, I will com are them with you.0 /I would refer not to.0 /'ow: +urely you do not mean to ersist in that mulish vagary:0

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,o answer. I threw o en the folding-doors near by, and turning u on Turkey and ,i ers, e#claimed in an e#cited manner /'e says, a second time, he won)t e#amine his a ers. "hat do you think of it, Turkey:0 It was afternoon, be it remembered. Turkey sat glowing like a brass boiler, his bald head steaming, his hands reeling among his blotted a ers. /Think of it:0 roared Turkey& /I think I)ll (ust ste behind his screen, and black his eyes for him;0 +o saying, Turkey rose to his feet and threw his arms into a ugilistic osition. 'e was hurrying away to make good his romise, when I detained him, alarmed at the effect of incautiously rousing Turkey)s combativeness after dinner. /+it down, Turkey,0 said I, /and hear what ,i ers has to say. "hat do you think of it, ,i ers: "ould I not be (ustified in immediately dismissing !artleby:0 /%#cuse me, that is for you to decide, sir. I think his conduct $uite unusual, and indeed un(ust, as regards Turkey and myself. !ut it may only be a assing whim.0 /Ah,0 e#claimed I, /you have strangely changed your mind thenyou s eak very gently of him now.0 /All beer,0 cried Turkey& /gentleness is effects of beer ,i ers and I dined together to-day. -ou see how gentle $ am, sir. +hall I go and black his eyes:0 /-ou refer to !artleby, I su ose. ,o, not to-day, Turkey,0 I re lied& / ray, ut u your fists.0 I closed the doors, and again advanced towards !artleby. I felt additional incentives tem ting me to my fate. I burned to be rebelled against again. I remembered that !artleby never left the office. /!artleby,0 said I, /3inger ,ut is away& (ust ste round to the 7ost 1ffice, won)t you: 8it was but a three minutes walk,9 and see if there is any thing for me.0

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/I would refer not to.0 /-ou %ill not:0 /I prefer not.0 I staggered to my desk, and sat there in a dee study. My blind inveteracy returned. "as there any other thing in which I could rocure myself to be ignominiously re ulsed by this lean, enniless wight:my hired clerk: "hat added thing is there, erfectly reasonable, that he will be sure to refuse to do: /!artleby;0 ,o answer. /!artleby,0 in a louder tone. ,o answer. /!artleby,0 I roared. >ike a very ghost, agreeably to the laws of magical invocation, at the third summons, he a eared at the entrance of his hermitage. /3o to the ne#t room, and tell ,i ers to come to me.0 /I refer not to,0 he res ectfully and slowly said, and mildly disa eared. /?ery good, !artleby,0 said I, in a $uiet sort of serenely severe self- ossessed tone, intimating the unalterable ur ose of some terrible retribution very close at hand. At the moment I half intended something of the kind. !ut u on the whole, as it was drawing towards my dinner-hour, I thought it best to ut on my hat and walk home for the day, suffering much from er le#ity and distress of mind. +hall I acknowledge it: The conclusion of this whole business was, that it soon became a fi#ed fact of my chambers, that a ale young scrivener, by the name of !artleby, had a desk there& that he co ied for me at the usual rate of four cents a folio 8one hundred words9& but he was ermanently e#em t from e#amining the work done by him, that duty being transferred to Turkey and ,i ers, one of com liment doubtless to their su erior acuteness& moreover, said !artleby was never

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on any account to be dis atched on the most trivial errand of any sort& and that even if entreated to take u on him such a matter, it was generally understood that he would refer not to in other words, that he would refuse oint-blank. As days assed on, I became considerably reconciled to 84 !artleby. 'is steadiness, his freedom from all dissi ation, his incessant industry 8e#ce t when he chose to throw himself into a standing revery behind his screen9, his great stillness, his unalterableness of demeanor under all circumstances, made him a valuable ac$uisition. 1ne rime thing was this,he %as al%ays there&first in the morning, continually through the day, and the last at night. I had a singular confidence in his honesty. I felt my most recious a ers erfectly safe in his hands. +ometimes to be sure I could not, for the very soul of me, avoid falling into sudden s asmodic assions with him. 2or it was e#ceeding difficult to bear in mind all the time those strange eculiarities, rivileges, and unheard of e#em tions, forming the tacit sti ulations on !artleby)s art under which he remained in my office. ,ow and then, in the eagerness of dis atching ressing business, I would inadvertently summon !artleby, in a short, ra id tone, to ut his finger, say, on the inci ient tie of a bit of red ta e with which I was about com ressing some a ers. 1f course, from behind the screen the usual answer, /I refer not to,0 was sure to come& and then, how could a human creature with the common infirmities of our nature, refrain from bitterly e#claiming u on such erversenesssuch unreasonableness. 'owever, every added re ulse of this sort which I received only tended to lessen the robability of my re eating the inadvertence. 'ere it must be said, that according to the custom of most 85 legal gentlemen occu ying chambers in densely- o ulated law buildings, there were several keys to my door. 1ne was ke t by a woman residing in the attic, which erson weekly scrubbed and daily swe t and dusted my a artments. Another was ke t by Turkey for convenience sake. The third I sometimes carried

in my own ocket. The fourth I knew not who had. ,ow, one +unday morning I ha ened to go to Trinity .hurch, 86 to hear a celebrated reacher, and finding myself rather early on the ground, I thought I would walk round to my chambers for a while. >uckily I had my key with me& but u on a lying it to the lock, I found it resisted by something inserted from the inside. @uite sur rised, I called out& when to my consternation a key was turned from within& and thrusting his lean visage at me, and holding the door a(ar, the a arition of !artleby a eared, in his shirt sleeves, and otherwise in a strangely tattered dishabille, saying $uietly that he was sorry, but he was dee ly engaged (ust then, and referred not admitting me at resent. In a brief word or two, he moreover added, that erha s I had better walk round the block two or three times, and by that time he would robably have concluded his affairs. ,ow, the utterly unsurmised a earance of !artleby, tenanting 87 my law-chambers of a +unday morning, with his cadaverously gentlemanly "o"chala"ce, yet withal firm and self- ossessed, had such a strange effect u on me, that incontinently I slunk away from my own door, and did as desired. !ut not without sundry twinges of im otent rebellion against the mild effrontery of this unaccountable scrivener. Indeed, it was his wonderful mildness chiefly, which not only disarmed me, but unmanned me, as it were. 2or I consider that one, for the time, is a sort of unmanned when he tran$uilly ermits his hired clerk to dictate to him, and order him away from his own remises. 2urthermore, I was full of uneasiness as to what !artleby could ossibly be doing in my office in his shirt sleeves, and in an otherwise dismantled condition of a +unday morning. "as any thing amiss going on: ,ay, that was out of the $uestion. It was not to be thought of for a moment that !artleby was an immoral erson. !ut what could he be doing there:co ying: ,ay again, whatever might be his eccentricities, !artleby was an eminently decorous erson. 'e would be the last man to sit down to his desk in any state a roaching to nudity. !esides, it

was +unday& and there was something about !artleby that forbade the su osition that we would by any secular occu ation violate the ro rieties of the day. ,evertheless, my mind was not acified& and full of a restless 88 curiosity, at last I returned to the door. "ithout hindrance I inserted my key, o ened it, and entered. !artleby was not to be seen. I looked round an#iously, ee ed behind his screen& but it was very lain that he was gone. < on more closely e#amining the lace, I surmised that for an indefinite eriod !artleby must have ate, dressed, and sle t in my office, and that too without late, mirror, or bed. The cushioned seat of a ricketty old sofa in one corner bore the faint im ress of a lean, reclining form. =olled away under his desk, I found a blanket& under the em ty grate, a blacking bo# and brush& on a chair, a tin basin, with soa and a ragged towel& in a news a er a few crumbs of ginger-nuts and a morsel of cheese. -et, thought I, it is evident enough that !artleby has been making his home here, kee ing bachelor)s hall all by himself. Immediately then the thought came swee ing across me, "hat miserable friendlessness and loneliness are here revealed; 'is overty is great& but his solitude, how horrible; Think of it. 1f a +unday, "all-street is deserted as 7etra& and every night of every day it is an em tiness. This building too, which of week-days hums with industry and life, at nightfall echoes with sheer vacancy, and all through +unday is forlorn. And here !artleby makes his home& sole s ectator of a solitude which he has seen all o ulousa sort of innocent and transformed Marius brooding among the ruins of .arthage; 2or the first time in my life a feeling of over owering stinging 89 melancholy sei5ed me. !efore, I had never e# erienced aught but a not-un leasing sadness. The bond of a common humanity now drew me irresistibly to gloom. A fraternal melancholy; 2or both I and !artleby were sons of Adam. I remembered the bright silks and s arkling faces I had seen that day, in gala trim, swan-like sailing down the Mississi i of !roadway& and I

contrasted them with the allid co yist, and thought to myself, Ah, ha iness courts the light, so we deem the world is gay& but misery hides aloof, so we deem that misery there is none. These sad fancyingschimeras, doubtless, of a sick and silly brainled on to other and more s ecial thoughts, concerning the eccentricities of !artleby. 7resentiments of strange discoveries hovered round me. The scrivener)s ale form a eared to me laid out, among uncaring strangers, in its shivering winding sheet. +uddenly I was attracted by !artleby)s closed desk, the key in 90 o en sight left in the lock. I mean no mischief, seek the gratification of no heartless 91 curiosity, thought I& besides, the desk is mine, and its contents too, so I will make bold to look within. %very thing was methodically arranged, the a ers smoothly laced. The igeon holes were dee , and removing the files of documents, I gro ed into their recesses. 7resently I felt something there, and dragged it out. It was an old bandanna handkerchief, heavy and knotted. I o ened it, and saw it was a savings) bank. I now recalled all the $uiet mysteries which I had noted in the 92 man. I remembered that he never s oke but to answer& that though at intervals he had considerable time to himself, yet I had never seen him readingno, not even a news a er& that for long eriods he would stand looking out, at his ale window behind the screen, u on the dead brick wall& I was $uite sure he never visited any refectory or eating house& while his ale face clearly indicated that he never drank beer like Turkey, or tea and coffee even, like other men& that he never went any where in articular that I could learn& never went out for a walk, unless indeed that was the case at resent& that he had declined telling who he was, or whence he came, or whether he had any relatives in the world& that though so thin and ale, he never com lained of ill health. And more than all, I remembered a certain unconscious air of allidhow shall I call it:of allid haughtiness, say, or rather an austere reserve about him, which

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had ositively awed me into my tame com liance with his eccentricities, when I had feared to ask him to do the slightest incidental thing for me, even though I might know, from his long-continued motionlessness, that behind his screen he must be standing in one of those dead-wall reveries of his. =evolving all these things, and cou ling them with the recently 93 discovered fact that he made my office his constant abiding lace and home, and not forgetful of his morbid moodiness& revolving all these things, a rudential feeling began to steal over me. My first emotions had been those of ure melancholy and sincerest ity& but (ust in ro ortion as the forlornness of !artleby grew and grew to my imagination, did that same melancholy merge into fear, that ity into re ulsion. +o true it is, and so terrible too, that u to a certain oint the thought or sight of misery enlists our best affections& but, in certain s ecial cases, beyond that oint it does not. They err who would assert that invariably this is owing to the inherent selfishness of the human heart. It rather roceeds from a certain ho elessness of remedying e#cessive and organic ill. To a sensitive being, ity is not seldom ain. And when at last it is erceived that such ity cannot lead to effectual succor, common sense bids the soul be rid of it. "hat I saw that morning ersuaded me that the scrivener was the victim of innate and incurable disorder. I might give alms to his body& but his body did not ain him& it was his soul that suffered, and his soul I could not reach. I did not accom lish the ur ose of going to Trinity .hurch 94 that morning. +omehow, the things I had seen dis$ualified me for the time from church-going. I walked homeward, thinking what I would do with !artleby. 2inally, I resolved u on this&I would ut certain calm $uestions to him the ne#t morning, touching his history, Ac., and if he declined to answer then o enly and reservedly 8and I su osed he would refer not9, then to give him a twenty dollar bill over and above whatever I might owe him, and tell him his services were no longer re$uired& but that if in any other way I could assist him, I would

be ha y to do so, es ecially if he desired to return to his native lace, wherever that might be, I would willingly hel to defray the e# enses. Moreover, if, after reaching home, he found himself at any time in want of aid, a letter from him would be sure of a re ly. The ne#t morning came. /!artleby,0 said I, gently calling to him behind his screen. ,o re ly. /!artleby,0 said I, in a still gentler tone, /come here& I am not going to ask you to do any thing you would refer not to doI sim ly wish to s eak to you.0 < on this he noiselessly slid into view. /"ill you tell me, !artleby, where you were born:0 /I would refer not to.0 /"ill you tell me a"y thi"' about yourself:0 /I would refer not to.0 /!ut what reasonable ob(ection can you have to s eak to me: I feel friendly towards you.0 'e did not look at me while I s oke, but ke t his glance fi#ed u on my bust of .icero, which as I then sat, was directly behind me, some si# inches above my head. /"hat is your answer, !artleby:0 said I, after waiting a considerable time for a re ly, during which his countenance remained immovable, only there was the faintest conceivable tremor of the white attenuated mouth. /At resent I refer to give no answer,0 he said, and retired into his hermitage. It was rather weak in me I confess, but his manner on this occasion nettled me. ,ot only did there seem to lurk in it a certain disdain, but his erverseness seemed ungrateful, considering the undeniable good usage and indulgence he had received from me. Again I sat ruminating what I should do. Mortified as I was at

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his behavior, and resolved as I had been to dismiss him when I entered my office, nevertheless I strangely felt something su erstitious knocking at my heart, and forbidding me to carry out my ur ose, and denouncing me for a villain if I dared to breathe one bitter word against this forlornest of mankind. At last, familiarly drawing my chair behind his screen, I sat down and said: /!artleby, never mind then about revealing your history& but let me entreat you, as a friend, to com ly as far as may be with the usages of this office. +ay now you will hel to e#amine a ers to-morrow or ne#t day: in short, say now that in a day or two you will begin to be a little reasonable:say so, !artleby.0 /At resent I would refer not to be a little reasonable,0 was his mildly cadaverous re ly. *ust then the folding-doors o ened, and ,i ers a roached. 'e seemed suffering from an unusually bad night)s rest, induced by severer indigestion than common. 'e overheard those final words of !artleby. (refer "ot, eh:0 gritted ,i ers/I)d prefer him, if I were you, sir,0 addressing me/I)d prefer him& I)d give him references, the stubborn mule; "hat is it, sir, ray, that he prefers not to do now:0 !artleby moved not a limb. /Mr. ,i ers,0 said I, /I)d refer that you would withdraw for the resent.0 +omehow, of late I had got into the way of involuntarily using this word / refer0 u on all sorts of not e#actly suitable occasions. And I trembled to think that my contact with the scrivener had already and seriously affected me in a mental way. And what further and dee er aberration might it not yet roduce: This a rehension had not been without efficacy in determining me to summary means. As ,i ers, looking very sour and sulky, was de arting, Turkey blandly and deferentially a roached.

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/"ith submission, sir,0 said he, /yesterday I was thinking about !artleby here, and I think that if he would but refer to take a $uart of good ale every day, it would do much towards mending him, and enabling him to assist in e#amining his a ers.0 /+o you have got the word too,0 said I, slightly e#cited. /"ith submission, what word, sir,0 asked Turkey, res ectfully crowding himself into the contracted s ace behind the screen, and by so doing, making me (ostle the scrivener. /"hat word, sir:0 /I would refer to be left alone here,0 said !artleby, as if offended at being mobbed in his rivacy. )hat*s the word, Turkey,0 said Ithat*s it.0 /1h, prefer+ oh yes$ueer word. I never use it myself. !ut, sir, as I was saying, if he would but refer0 /Turkey,0 interru ted I, /you will lease withdraw.0 /1h, certainly, sir, if you refer that I should.0 As he o ened the folding-door to retire, ,i ers at his desk caught a glim se of me, and asked whether I would refer to have a certain a er co ied on blue a er or white. 'e did not in the least roguishly accent the word refer. It was lain that it involuntarily rolled from his tongue. I thought to myself, surely I must get rid of a demented man, who already has in some degree turned the tongues, if not the heads of myself and clerks. !ut I thought it rudent not to break the dismission at once. The ne#t day I noticed that !artleby did nothing but stand at his window in his dead-wall revery. < on asking him why he did not write, he said that he had decided u on doing no more writing. /"hy, how now: what ne#t:0 e#claimed I, /do no more writing:0 /,o more.0 /And what is the reason:0 /4o you not see the reason for yourself,0 he indifferently

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re lied. I looked steadfastly at him, and erceived that his eyes looked dull and gla5ed. Instantly it occurred to me, that his une#am led diligence in co ying by his dim window for the first few weeks of his stay with me might have tem orarily im aired his vision. I was touched. I said something in condolence with him. I hinted that of course he did wisely in abstaining from writing for a while& and urged him to embrace that o ortunity of taking wholesome e#ercise in the o en air. This, however, he did not do. A few days after this, my other clerks being absent, and being in a great hurry to dis atch certain letters by the mail, I thought that, having nothing else earthly to do, !artleby would surely be less infle#ible than usual, and carry these letters to the ost-office. !ut he blankly declined. +o, much to my inconvenience, I went myself. +till added days went by. "hether !artleby)s eyes im roved or not, I could not say. To all a earance, I thought they did. !ut when I asked him if they did, he vouchsafed no answer. At all events, he would do no co ying. At last, in re ly to my urgings, he informed me that he had ermanently given u co ying. /"hat;0 e#claimed I& /su ose your eyes should get entirely wellbetter than ever beforewould you not co y then:0 /I have given u co ying,0 he answered, and slid aside. 'e remained as ever, a fi#ture in my chamber. ,ayif that were ossiblehe became still more of a fi#ture than before. "hat was to be done: 'e would do nothing in the office: why should he stay there: In lain fact, he had now become a millstone to me, not only useless as a necklace, but afflictive to bear. -et I was sorry for him. I s eak less than truth when I say that, on his own account, he occasioned me uneasiness. If he would but have named a single relative or friend, I would instantly have written, and urged their taking the oor fellow away to some convenient retreat. !ut he seemed alone, absolutely alone in the universe. A bit of wreck in the mid

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Atlantic. At length, necessities connected with my business tyranni5ed over all other considerations. 4ecently as I could, I told !artleby that in si# days) time he must unconditionally leave the office. I warned him to take measures, in the interval, for rocuring some other abode. I offered to assist him in this endeavor, if he himself would but take the first ste towards a removal. /And when you finally $uit me, !artleby,0 added I, /I shall see that you go not away entirely un rovided. +i# days from this hour, remember.0 At the e# iration of that eriod, I ee ed behind the screen, and lo; !artleby was there. I buttoned u my coat, balanced myself& advanced slowly towards him, touched his shoulder, and said, /The time has come& you must $uit this lace& I am sorry for you& here is money& but you must go.0 /I would refer not,0 he re lied, with his back still towards me. /-ou m!st.# 'e remained silent. ,ow I had an unbounded confidence in this man)s common honesty. 'e had fre$uently restored to me si# ences and shillings carelessly dro ed u on the floor, for I am a t to be very reckless in such shirt-button affairs. The roceeding then which followed will not be deemed e#traordinary. /!artleby,0 said I, /I owe you twelve dollars on account& here are thirty-two& the odd twenty are yours."ill you take it:0 and I handed the bills towards him. !ut he made no motion. /I will leave them here then,0 utting them under a weight on the table. Then taking my hat and cane and going to the door I tran$uilly turned and added/After you have removed your things from these offices, !artleby, you will of course lock the doorsince every one is now gone for the day but youand if you lease, sli your key underneath the mat, so that I may have it in the morning. I shall not see you again& so good-bye to

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you. If hereafter in your new lace of abode I can be of any service to you, do not fail to advise me by letter. 3ood-bye, !artleby, and fare you well.0 !ut he answered not a word& like the last column of some 146 ruined tem le, he remained standing mute and solitary in the middle of the otherwise deserted room. As I walked home in a ensive mood, my vanity got the better 147 of my ity. I could not but highly lume myself on my masterly management in getting rid of !artleby. Masterly I call it, and such it must a ear to any dis assionate thinker. The beauty of my rocedure seemed to consist in its erfect $uietness. There was no vulgar bullying, no bravado of any sort, no choleric hectoring, and striding to and fro across the a artment, (erking out vehement commands for !artleby to bundle himself off with his beggarly tra s. ,othing of the kind. "ithout loudly bidding !artleby de artas an inferior genius might have doneI ass!me, the ground that de art he must& and u on the assum tion built all I had to say. The more I thought over my rocedure, the more I was charmed with it. ,evertheless, ne#t morning, u on awakening, I had my doubts,I had somehow sle t off the fumes of vanity. 1ne of the coolest and wisest hours a man has, is (ust after he awakes in the morning. My rocedure seemed as sagacious as ever,but only in theory. 'ow it would rove in racticethere was the rub. It was truly a beautiful thought to have assumed !artleby)s de arture& but, after all, that assum tion was sim ly my own, and none of !artleby)s. The great oint was, not whether I had assumed that he would $uit me, but whether he would refer so to do. 'e was more a man of references than assum tions. A2T%= breakfast, I walked down town, arguing the 148 robabilities pro and co". 1ne moment I thought it would rove a miserable failure, and !artleby would be found all alive at my office as usual& the ne#t moment it seemed certain that I should see his chair em ty. And so I ke t veering about. At the corner of !roadway and .anal-street, I saw $uite an e#cited grou of

eo le standing in earnest conversation. /I)ll take odds he doesn)t,0 said a voice as I assed. /4oesn)t go:done;0 said I, / ut u your money.0 I was instinctively utting my hand in my ocket to roduce my own, when I remembered that this was an election day. The words I had overheard bore no reference to !artleby, but to the success or non-success of some candidate for the mayoralty. In my intent frame of mind, I had, as it were, imagined that all !roadway shared in my e#citement, and were debating the same $uestion with me. I assed on, very thankful that the u roar of the street screened my momentary absentmindedness. As I had intended, I was earlier than usual at my office door. I stood listening for a moment. All was still. 'e must be gone. I tried the knob. The door was locked. -es, my rocedure had worked to a charm& he indeed must be vanished. -et a certain melancholy mi#ed with this: I was almost sorry for my brilliant success. I was fumbling under the door mat for the key, which !artleby was to have left there for me, when accidentally my knee knocked against a anel, roducing a summoning sound, and in res onse a voice came to me from within/,ot yet& I am occu ied.0 It was !artleby. I was thunderstruck. 2or an instant I stood like the man who, i e in mouth, was killed one cloudless afternoon long ago in ?irginia, by summer lightning& at his own warm o en window he was killed, and remained leaning out there u on the dreamy afternoon, till some one touched him, when he fell. /,ot gone;0 I murmured at last. !ut again obeying that wondrous ascendancy which the inscrutable scrivener had over me, and from which ascendency, for all my chafing, I could not com letely esca e, I slowly went down stairs and out into the street, and while walking round the block, considered what I should ne#t do in this unheard-of er le#ity. Turn the man out

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by an actual thrusting I could not& to drive him away by calling him hard names would not do& calling in the olice was an un leasant idea& and yet, ermit him to en(oy his cadaverous trium h over me,this too I could not think of. "hat was to be done: or, if nothing could be done, was there any thing further that I could ass!me in the matter: -es, as before I had ros ectively assumed that !artleby would de art, so now I might retros ectively assume that de arted he was. In the legitimate carrying out of this assum tion, I might enter my office in a great hurry, and retending not to see !artleby at all, walk straight against him as if he were air. +uch a roceeding would in a singular degree have the a earance of a homethrust. It was hardly ossible that !artleby could withstand such an a lication of the doctrine of assum tions. !ut u on second thoughts the success of the lan seemed rather dubious. I resolved to argue the matter over with him again. /!artleby,0 said I, entering the office, with a $uietly severe e# ression, /I am seriously dis leased. I am ained, !artleby. I had thought better of you. I had imagined you of such a gentlemanly organi5ation, that in any delicate dilemma a slight hint would sufficein short, an assum tion. !ut it a ears I am deceived. "hy,0 I added, unaffectedly starting, /you have not even touched the money yet,0 ointing to it, (ust where I had left it the evening revious. 'e answered nothing. /"ill you, or will you not, $uit me:0 I now demanded in a sudden assion, advancing close to him. /I would refer "ot to $uit you,0 he re lied, gently em hasi5ing the "ot. /"hat earthly right have you to stay here: 4o you ay any rent: 4o you ay my ta#es: 1r is this ro erty yours:0 'e answered nothing. /Are you ready to go on and write now: Are your eyes recovered: .ould you co y a small a er for me this morning:

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or hel e#amine a few lines: or ste round to the ost-office: In a word, will you do any thing at all, to give a coloring to your refusal to de art the remises:0 'e silently retired into his hermitage. 163 I was now in such a state of nervous resentment that I thought 164 it but rudent to check myself at resent from further demonstrations. !artleby and I were alone. I remembered the tragedy of the unfortunate Adams and the still more unfortunate .olt in the solitary office of the latter& and how oor .olt, being dreadfully incensed by Adams, and im rudently ermitting himself to get wildly e#cited, was at unawares hurried into his fatal actan act which certainly no man could ossibly de lore more than the actor himself. 1ften it had occurred to me in my onderings u on the sub(ect, that had that altercation taken lace in the ublic street, or at a rivate residence, it would not have terminated as it did. It was the circumstance of being alone in a solitary office, u stairs, of a building entirely unhallowed by humani5ing domestic associationsan uncar eted office, doubtless, of a dusty, haggard sort of a earance&this it must have been, which greatly hel ed to enhance the irritable des eration of the ha less .olt. !ut when this old Adam of resentment rose in me and tem ted 165 me concerning !artleby, I gra led him and threw him. 'ow: "hy, sim ly by recalling the divine in(unction: /A new commandment give I unto you, that ye love one another.0 -es, this it was that saved me. Aside from higher considerations, charity often o erates as a vastly wise and rudent rinci lea great safeguard to its ossessor. Men have committed murder for (ealousy)s sake, and anger)s sake, and hatred)s sake, and selfishness) sake, and s iritual ride)s sake& but no man that ever I heard of, ever committed a diabolical murder for sweet charity)s sake. Mere self-interest, then, if no better motive can be enlisted, should, es ecially with high-tem ered men, rom t all beings to charity and hilanthro y. At any rate, u on the occasion in $uestion, I strove to drown my e#as erated feelings

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towards the scrivener by benevolently construing his conduct. 7oor fellow, oor fellow; thought I, he don)t mean any thing& and besides, he has seen hard times, and ought to be indulged. I endeavored also immediately to occu y myself, and at the 166 same time to comfort my des ondency. I tried to fancy that in the course of the morning, at such time as might rove agreeable to him, !artleby, of his own free accord, would emerge from his hermitage, and take u some decided line of march in the direction of the door. !ut no. 'alf- ast twelve o)clock came& Turkey began to glow in the face, overturn his inkstand, and become generally obstre erous& ,i ers abated down into $uietude and courtesy& 3inger ,ut munched his noon a le& and !artleby remained standing at his window in one of his rofoundest dead-wall reveries. "ill it be credited: 1ught I to acknowledge it: That afternoon I left the office without saying one further word to him. +ome days now assed, during which, at leisure intervals I 167 looked a little into /%dwards on the "ill,0 and /7riestley on ,ecessity.0 <nder the circumstances, those books induced a salutary feeling. 3radually I slid into the ersuasion that these troubles of mine touching the scrivener, had been all redestinated from eternity, and !artleby was billeted u on me for some mysterious ur ose of an all-wise 7rovidence, which it was not for a mere mortal like me to fathom. -es, !artleby, stay there behind your screen, thought I& I shall ersecute you no more& you are harmless and noiseless as any of these old chairs& in short, I never feel so rivate as when I know you are here. At least I see it, I feel it& I enetrate to the redestinated ur ose of my life. I am content. 1thers may have loftier arts to enact& but my mission in this world, !artleby, is to furnish you with office-room for such eriod as you may see fit to remain. I believe that this wise and blessed frame of mind would have 168 continued with me, had it not been for the unsolicited and uncharitable remarks obtruded u on me by my rofessional friends who visited the rooms. !ut thus it often is, that the

constant friction of illiberal minds wears out at last the best resolves of the more generous. Though to be sure, when I reflected u on it, it was not strange that eo le entering my office should be struck by the eculiar as ect of the unaccountable !artleby, and so be tem ted to throw out some sinister observations concerning him. +ometimes an attorney having business with me, and calling at my office, and finding no one but the scrivener there, would undertake to obtain some sort of recise information from him touching my whereabouts& but without heeding his idle talk, !artleby would remain standing immovable in the middle of the room. +o after contem lating him in that osition for a time, the attorney would de art, no wiser than he came. Also, when a =eference was going on, and the room full of 169 lawyers and witnesses and business was driving fast& some dee ly occu ied legal gentleman resent, seeing !artleby wholly unem loyed, would re$uest him to run round to his 8the legal gentleman)s9 office and fetch some a ers for him. Thereu on, !artleby would tran$uilly decline, and yet remain idle as before. Then the lawyer would give a great stare, and turn to me. And what could I say: At last I was made aware that all through the circle of my rofessional ac$uaintance, a whis er of wonder was running round, having reference to the strange creature I ke t at my office. This worried me very much. And as the idea came u on me of his ossibly turning out a long-lived man, and kee occu ying my chambers, and denying my authority& and er le#ing my visitors& and scandali5ing my rofessional re utation& and casting a general gloom over the remises& kee ing soul and body together to the last u on his savings 8for doubtless he s ent but half a dime a day9, and in the end erha s outlive me, and claim ossession of my office by right of his er etual occu ancy: as all these dark antici ations crowded u on me more and more, and my friends continually intruded their relentless remarks u on the a arition in my room& a great change was wrought in me. I resolved to

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gather all my faculties together, and for ever rid me of this intolerable incubus. %re revolving any com licated ro(ect, however, ada ted to 170 this end, I first sim ly suggested to !artleby the ro riety of his ermanent de arture. In a calm and serious tone, I commended the idea to his careful and mature consideration. !ut having taken three days to meditate u on it, he a rised me that his original determination remained the same& in short, that he still referred to abide with me. "hat shall I do: I now said to myself, buttoning u my coat to 171 the last button. "hat shall I do: what ought I to do: what does conscience say I sho!l, do with this man, or rather ghost. =id myself of him, I must& go, he shall. !ut how: -ou will not thrust him, the oor, ale, assive mortal,you will not thrust such a hel less creature out of your door: you will not dishonor yourself by such cruelty: ,o, I will not, I cannot do that. =ather would I let him live and die here, and then mason u his remains in the wall. "hat then will you do: 2or all your coa#ing, he will not budge. !ribes he leaves under your own a erweight on your table& in short, it is $uite lain that he refers to cling to you. Then something severe, something unusual must be done. 172 "hat; surely you will not have him collared by a constable, and commit his innocent allor to the common (ail: And u on what ground could you rocure such a thing to be done:a vagrant, is he: "hat; he a vagrant, a wanderer, who refuses to budge: It is because he will "ot be a vagrant, then, that you seek to count him as a vagrant. That is too absurd. ,o visible means of su ort: there I have him. "rong again: for indubitably he ,oes su ort himself, and that is the only unanswerable roof that any man can show of his ossessing the means so to do. ,o more then. +ince he will not $uit me, I must $uit him. I will change my offices& I will move elsewhere& and give him fair notice, that if I find him on my new remises I will then roceed against him as a common tres asser.

Acting accordingly, ne#t day I thus addressed him: /I find these chambers too far from the .ity 'all& the air is unwholesome. In a word, I ro ose to remove my offices ne#t week, and shall no longer re$uire your services. I tell you this now, in order that you may seek another lace.0 'e made no re ly, and nothing more was said. 1n the a ointed day I engaged carts and men, roceeded to my chambers, and having but little furniture, every thing was removed in a few hours. Throughout, the scrivener remained standing behind the screen, which I directed to be removed the last thing. It was withdrawn& and being folded u like a huge folio, left him the motionless occu ant of a naked room. I stood in the entry watching him a moment, while something from within me u braided me. I re-entered, with my hand in my ocketandand my heart in my mouth. /3ood-bye, !artleby& I am goinggood-bye, and 3od some way bless you& and take that,0 sli ing something in his hand. !ut it dro ed u on the floor, and then,strange to sayI tore myself from him whom I had so longed to be rid of. %stablished in my new $uarters, for a day or two I ke t the door locked, and started at every footfall in the assages. "hen I returned to my rooms after any little absence, I would ause at the threshold for an instant, and attentively listen, ere a lying my key. !ut these fears were needless. !artleby never came nigh me. I thought all was going well, when a erturbed looking stranger visited me, in$uiring whether I was the erson who had recently occu ied rooms at ,o. "all-street. 2ull of forebodings, I re lied that I was. /Then sir,0 said the stranger, who roved a lawyer, /you are res onsible for the man you left there. 'e refuses to do any co ying& he refuses to do any thing& he says he refers not to& and he refuses to $uit the remises.0

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/I am very sorry, sir,0 said I, with assumed tran$uillity, but an inward tremor, /but, really, the man you allude to is nothing to mehe is no relation or a rentice of mine, that you should hold me res onsible for him.0 /In mercy)s name, who is he:0 /I certainly cannot inform you. I know nothing about him. 2ormerly I em loyed him as a co yist& but he has done nothing for me now for some time ast.0 /I shall settle him then,good morning, sir.0 +everal days assed, and I heard nothing more& and though I often felt a charitable rom ting to call at the lace and see oor !artleby, yet a certain s$ueamishness of I know not what withheld me. All is over with him, by this time, thought I at last, when through another week no further intelligence reached me. !ut coming to my room the day after, I found several ersons waiting at my door in a high state of nervous e#citement. /That)s the manhere he comes,0 cried the foremost one, whom I recogni5ed as the lawyer who had reviously called u on me alone. /-ou must take him away, sir, at once,0 cried a ortly erson among them, advancing u on me, and whom I knew to be the landlord of ,o. "all-street. /These gentlemen, my tenants, cannot stand it any longer& Mr. !0 ointing to the lawyer, /has turned him out of his room, and he now ersists in haunting the building generally, sitting u on the banisters of the stairs by day, and slee ing in the entry by night. %very body is concerned& clients are leaving the offices& some fears are entertained of a mob& something you must do, and that without delay.0 Aghast at this torrent, I fell back before it, and would fain have locked myself in my new $uarters. In vain I ersisted that !artleby was nothing to meno more than to any one else. In vain:I was the last erson known to have any thing to do with

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him, and they held me to the terrible account. 2earful then of being e# osed in the a ers 8as one erson resent obscurely threatened9 I considered the matter, and at length said, that if the lawyer would give me a confidential interview with the scrivener, in his 8the lawyer)s9 own room, I would that afternoon strive my best to rid them of the nuisance they com lained of. 3oing u stairs to my old haunt, there was !artleby silently sitting u on the banister at the landing. /"hat are you doing here, !artleby:0 said I. /+itting u on the banister,0 he mildly re lied. I motioned him into the lawyer)s room, who then left us. /!artleby,0 said I, /are you aware that you are the cause of great tribulation to me, by ersisting in occu ying the entry after being dismissed from the office:0 ,o answer. /,ow one of two things must take lace. %ither you must do something, or something must be done to you. ,ow what sort of business would you like to engage in: "ould you like to reengage in co ying for some one:0 /,o& I would refer not to make any change.0 /"ould you like a clerkshi in a dry-goods store:0 /There is too much confinement about that. ,o, I would not like a clerkshi & but I am not articular.0 /Too much confinement,0 I cried, /why you kee yourself confined all the time;0 /I would refer not to take a clerkshi ,0 he re(oined, as if to settle that little item at once. /'ow would a bar-tender)s business suit you: There is no trying of the eyesight in that.0 /I would not like it at all& though, as I said before, I am not articular.0 'is unwonted wordiness ins irited me. I returned to the charge.

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/"ell then, would you like to travel through the country collecting bills for the merchants: That would im rove your health.0 /,o, I would refer to be doing something else.0 /'ow then would going as a com anion to %uro e, to entertain some young gentleman with your conversation,how would that suit you:0 /,ot at all. It does not strike me that there is any thing definite about that. I like to be stationary. !ut I am not articular.0 /+tationary you shall be then,0 I cried, now losing all atience, and for the first time in all my e#as erating connection with him fairly flying into a assion. /If you do not go away from these remises before night, I shall feel boundindeed I am bound tototo $uit the remises myself;0 I rather absurdly concluded, knowing not with what ossible threat to try to frighten his immobility into com liance. 4es airing of all further efforts, I was reci itately leaving him, when a final thought occurred to meone which had not been wholly unindulged before. /!artleby,0 said I, in the kindest tone I could assume under such e#citing circumstances, /will you go home with me now not to my office, but my dwellingand remain there till we can conclude u on some convenient arrangement for you at our leisure: .ome, let us start now, right away.0 /,o: at resent I would refer not to make any change at all.0 I answered nothing& but effectually dodging every one by the suddenness and ra idity of my flight, rushed from the building, ran u "all-street towards !roadway, and (um ing into the first omnibus was soon removed from ursuit. As soon as tran$uillity returned I distinctly erceived that I had now done all that I ossibly could, both in res ect to the demands of the landlord and his tenants, and with regard to my own desire and sense of duty, to benefit !artleby, and shield him from rude ersecution. I now strove to be entirely care-free and $uiescent& and my

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conscience (ustified me in the attem t& though indeed it was not so successful as I could have wished. +o fearful was I of being again hunted out by the incensed landlord and his e#as erated tenants, that, surrendering my business to ,i ers, for a few days I drove about the u er art of the town and through the suburbs, in my rockaway& crossed over to *ersey .ity and 'oboken, and aid fugitive visits to Manhattanville and Astoria. In fact I almost lived in my rockaway for the time. "hen again I entered my office, lo, a note from the landlord lay u on the desk. I o ened it with trembling hands. It informed me that the writer had sent to the olice, and had !artleby removed to the Tombs as a vagrant. Moreover, since I knew more about him than any one else, he wished me to a ear at that lace, and make a suitable statement of the facts. These tidings had a conflicting effect u on me. At first I was indignant& but at last almost a roved. The landlord)s energetic, summary dis osition had led him to ado t a rocedure which I do not think I would have decided u on myself& and yet as a last resort, under such eculiar circumstances, it seemed the only lan. As I afterwards learned, the oor scrivener, when told that he must be conducted to the Tombs, offered not the slightest obstacle, but in his ale unmoving way, silently ac$uiesced. +ome of the com assionate and curious bystanders (oined the arty& and headed by one of the constables arm in arm with !artleby, the silent rocession filed its way through all the noise, and heat, and (oy of the roaring thoroughfares at noon. The same day I received the note I went to the Tombs, or to s eak more ro erly, the 'alls of *ustice. +eeking the right officer, I stated the ur ose of my call, and was informed that the individual I described was indeed within. I then assured the functionary that !artleby was a erfectly honest man, and greatly to be com assionated, however unaccountably eccentric. I narrated all I knew, and closed by suggesting the idea of letting him remain in as indulgent confinement as

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ossible till something less harsh might be donethough indeed I hardly knew what. At all events, if nothing else could be decided u on, the alms-house must receive him. I then begged to have an interview. !eing under no disgraceful charge, and $uite serene and harmless in all his ways, they had ermitted him freely to wander about the rison, and es ecially in the inclosed grasslatted yards thereof. And so I found him there, standing all alone in the $uietest of the yards, his face towards a high wall, while all around, from the narrow slits of the (ail windows, I thought I saw eering out u on him the eyes of murderers and thieves. /!artleby;0 /I know you,0 he said, without looking round,/and I want nothing to say to you.0 /It was not I that brought you here, !artleby,0 said I, keenly ained at his im lied sus icion. /And to you, this should not be so vile a lace. ,othing re roachful attaches to you by being here. And see, it is not so sad a lace as one might think. >ook, there is the sky, and here is the grass.0 /I know where I am,0 he re lied, but would say nothing more, and so I left him. As I entered the corridor again, a broad meat-like man, in an a ron, accosted me, and (erking his thumb over his shoulder said/Is that your friend:0 /-es.0 /4oes he want to starve: If he does, let him live on the rison fare, that)s all.0 /"ho are you:0 asked I, not knowing what to make of such an unofficially s eaking erson in such a lace. /I am the grub-man. +uch gentlemen as have friends here, hire me to rovide them with something good to eat.0 /Is this so:0 said I, turning to the turnkey. 'e said it was.

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/"ell then,0 said I, sli ing some silver into the grub-man)s hands 8for so they called him9. /I want you to give articular attention to my friend there& let him have the best dinner you can get. And you must be as olite to him as ossible.0 /Introduce me, will you:0 said the grub-man, looking at me with an e# ression which seem to say he was all im atience for an o ortunity to give a s ecimen of his breeding. Thinking it would rove of benefit to the scrivener, I ac$uiesced& and asking the grub-man his name, went u with him to !artleby. /!artleby, this is Mr. .utlets& you will find him very useful to you.0 /-our sarvant, sir, your sarvant,0 said the grub-man, making a low salutation behind his a ron. /'o e you find it leasant here, sir&s acious groundscool a artments, sirho e you)ll stay with us some timetry to make it agreeable. May Mrs. .utlets and I have the leasure of your com any to dinner, sir, in Mrs. .utlets) rivate room:0 /I refer not to dine to-day,0 said !artleby, turning away. /It would disagree with me& I am unused to dinners.0 +o saying he slowly moved to the other side of the inclosure, and took u a osition fronting the dead-wall. /'ow)s this:0 said the grub-man, addressing me with a stare of astonishment. /'e)s odd, aint he:0 /I think he is a little deranged,0 said I, sadly. /4eranged: deranged is it: "ell now, u on my word, I thought that friend of yourn was a gentleman forger& they are always ale and genteel-like, them forgers. I can)t hel ity )emcan)t hel it, sir. 4id you know Monroe %dwards:0 he added touchingly, and aused. Then, laying his hand ityingly on my shoulder, sighed, /he died of consum tion at +ing-+ing. +o you weren)t ac$uainted with Monroe:0 /,o, I was never socially ac$uainted with any forgers. !ut I cannot sto longer. >ook to my friend yonder. -ou will not lose

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by it. I will see you again.0 +ome few days after this, I again obtained admission to the Tombs, and went through the corridors in $uest of !artleby& but without finding him. /I saw him coming from his cell not long ago,0 said a turnkey, /may be he)s gone to loiter in the yards.0 +o I went in that direction. /Are you looking for the silent man:0 said another turnkey assing me. /-onder he liesslee ing in the yard there. )Tis not twenty minutes since I saw him lie down.0 The yard was entirely $uiet. It was not accessible to the common risoners. The surrounding walls, of ama5ing thickness, ke t off all sounds behind them. The %gy tian character of the masonry weighed u on me with its gloom. !ut a soft im risoned turf grew under foot. The heart of the eternal yramids, it seemed, wherein, by some strange magic, through the clefts, grass-seed, dro ed by birds, had s rung. +trangely huddled at the base of the wall, his knees drawn u , and lying on his side, his head touching the cold stones, I saw the wasted !artleby. !ut nothing stirred. I aused& then went close u to him& stoo ed over, and saw that his dim eyes were o en& otherwise he seemed rofoundly slee ing. +omething rom ted me to touch him. I felt his hand, when a tingling shiver ran u my arm and down my s ine to my feet. The round face of the grub-man eered u on me now. /'is dinner is ready. "on)t he dine to-day, either: 1r does he live without dining:0 />ives without dining,0 said I, and closed the eyes. /%h;'e)s aslee , aint he:0 /"ith kings and counsellors,0 murmured I. B B B B B B B B There would seem little need for history. Imagination will readily su

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oor !artleby)s interment. !ut ere arting with the reader, let me say, that if this little narrative has sufficiently interested him, to awaken curiosity as to who !artleby was, and what manner of life he led rior to the resent narrator)s making his ac$uaintance, I can only re ly, that in such curiosity I fully share, but am wholly unable to gratify it. -et here I hardly know whether I should divulge one little item of rumor, which came to my ear a few months after the scrivener)s decease. < on what basis it rested, I could never ascertain& and hence, how true it is I cannot now tell. !ut inasmuch as this vague re ort has not been without a certain strange suggestive interest to me, however sad, it may rove the same with some others& and so I will briefly mention it. The re ort was this: that !artleby had been a subordinate clerk in the 4ead >etter 1ffice at "ashington, from which he had been suddenly removed by a change in the administration. "hen I think over this rumor, I cannot ade$uately e# ress the emotions which sei5e me. 4ead letters; does it not sound like dead men: .onceive a man by nature and misfortune rone to a allid ho elessness, can any business seem more fitted to heighten it than that of continually handling these dead letters and assorting them for the flames: 2or by the cart-load they are annually burned. +ometimes from out the folded a er the ale clerk takes a ring:the finger it was meant for, erha s, moulders in the grave& a bank-note sent in swiftest charity:he whom it would relieve, nor eats nor hungers any more& ardon for those who died des airing& ho e for those who died unho ing& good tidings for those who died stifled by unrelieved calamities. 1n errands of life, these letters s eed to death. Ah !artleby; Ah humanity; 251

roceeding further in this 250 ly the meagre recital of

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