"Like Talking to a Brick Wall"

There are certain social codes that we are expected to follow. They are too numerous and obscure to know-but for the most part, they don't need to be known. The unspoken, unwritten set of rules we are obligated to live by are subtly imbued in us from birth. When we live outside those boundaries and follow our own desires, we are walking on thin ice. An eccentric choice in wardrobe or unusual habits can make the difference between being considered an individual who "thinks outside of the box," or just a plain old lunatic. When someone refuses to adhere to our social codes, they become suspect. But what drives them, enables them to refuse in the first place?

Melville seemed to have a good idea of what it feels like to be in such a position. The American Tradition in Literature discusses how "like Bartleby, Melville was a 'scrivener,' or writer. Melville also refused to copy out the ideas of others, or even his own, in response to popular demand. He too 'preferred' to withdraw"(Perkins 1564). So far it sounds like Melville was almost certainly creating something "out of himself." Additionally, Melville "distrusted the economic compulsion of society; he resented the financial assistance of his wife's father"(1564). This story comes from an artist reliant on only himself, true to his own nature.

Bartleby is merely an exaggeration of this individual way of thinking. Melville presents a distorted image of independence from civil constraint, one that goes so far that it results in a sort of social anarchy. But considering the scrivener's background, it isn't hard to understand how he came to be such a social miscreant.

Bartleby comes to his employer from a dead letter office, disposing of those trinkets and words that the senders sent too late. He was filled, every day, with the awareness that death comes unexpectedly-interrupting one's affairs before they've had a chance to complete them, and indiscriminately cutting off the thread of life. By the time Bartleby arrives at the Lawyer's office, he has been infused with the belief that what we accomplish on this earth is arbitrary. This empowers him to be almost completely unconcerned with the repercussions of his actions, and let loose his most unreasonable, uncivilized self.

Despite this freedom of his, he strives to be of some use for a while. In fact, he seems to be the best worker out of the lot-copying day and night-accomplishing "an extraordinary quantity of writing." But as time wears on, he becomes less compelled to do anything worthwhile. Physically sealed off from the world by his partition, he becomes more and more emotionally withdrawn, as well. It isn't that he is vehemently opposed to the work, not that he is incapable of it (as the lawyer mistakenly assumes by the glazed over look in his eye). He simply prefers not to. He would rather do nothing at all, he would rather engage in his "dead wall reverie," untroubled by the trivial tasks of living. And what of the wall? A stark, flat, limitation-blocking out the light and hope of the day. To another, it might be disheartening. The sun's rays trickle down meagerly to meet the scrivener's eyes, but it isn't hope that Bartleby seeks; it is not optimism that he embraces. He finds comfort in the peaceful nothingness of the view. The blankness and cool indifference of the dead wall reflect Bartleby's own hopeless attitude regarding life.

Bartleby's refusal to even respect his employer's wishes that he leave the premises show just how disturbed he has become. His descent into a deep depression and seeming madness is further illustrated when he becomes a nuisance to the new tenants of the apartments. He is carried peacefully away to jail, no objections made. Once imprisoned, he only withdraws further. He prefers not to eat, and finally starves to death. The lawyer finds him curled up next to (yet) another wall in the end, the result of Bartleby's final decision that he preferred not to live.

Was Bartleby depressed by his undeniably grim state? Certainly. Fed up with the human race? Possibly. But there has to be more than that to it. More than what the narrator (who admits how very little he knows of Bartleby) can tell us. And we must consider Melville's personal position regarding men of the law. "He did not believe that his brother's practice, or that the law itself, necessarily promoted the cause of justice; nor that the lawyer was more 'successful' because he grew rich"(Perkins 1564). We cannot base our analysis merely on the information that the narrator has provided, but must look for a deeper meaning and explanation.

The interpretation that I find particularly compelling takes a psychological approach. According to Dennis Perry, the tale is based on the "ego defences" the characters erect against their "compulsions and obsessions." Using Freud's multi-layered view of the mind, with its notion of the ego in constant conflict with the id, one can better understand Bartleby's seeming madness, and why it's so difficult for others to "get" him. "The ego functions to mediate between the natural impulses of the id and external reality"(Perry 408). It's there to make sure our id doesn't run free and wild, that we don't tell everyone we meet that we would simply "prefer not to" do whatever they ask. Bartleby's problem is that his is id has overthrown that protective ego, and now there's nothing to keep his actions in check.

Perry suggests that the characters "ultimately fail to wall out the natural impulses of the id with the artificial social conventions erected by the ego,"(Perry 408-409) because the id still shines through in their neurotic habits.

The lawyer seems to be an embodiment of the status quo, with his desire for an easy life, one that is "safe" and well rewarded. But, like all the characters in the story, his ego releases his anti-social tendencies in the form of compulsions and obsessions-his anal habits. Perry points some of these out: the careful structuring of the story, his sectioning of his offices, his denial and his limited self-perception (he "denies the motivations and the unconventional behaviours of his scriveners, which are reminders of his own id, by portraying them in comic terms, attributing their behaviour to intemperance and indigestion" [Perry 409]) his attempts to control his emotions, and his obsession with money. Of the lawyer, he says: "In short, his 'rationalisations' are a form of irrationality"(409). Perkins & Perkins would add that, "This elderly lawyer is…prudent, methodical, and give to the easiest, if dullest, pursuits of the lawyer. He is neither good nor bad, but uncommitted. The gradual unfolding of the lawyer's human understanding, responding to Bartleby's passive resistance to all he is or serves, until he is on Bartleby's side-this theme is perhaps central." It would appear that, despite his initial fear of and aversion to Bartleby's unabashed id, the lawyer ultimately comes to terms with its presence-even sympathizes. His brush with the scrivener has allowed him to see things in a different light. Good for him. Unfortunately, by the time he has this great epiphany, Bartleby is lying dead in the courtyard at the Tombs.

Perry points out that in contrast to the lawyer, Turkey and Nippers are only able to deny the id's impulses for half a day. "While they both recognize the need to accept the Wall Street values of rationality and professionalism (as the lawyer does), there is a neurotic split in the ego which enables the id to surface but not erupt"(Perry 411). The two are struggling to keep up appearances, and can hardly manage the strain. They "support the conventional system of the law and the profits, and their reward is paid in neuroses, alcoholism, ulcers, and unacknowledged envy of Bartleby's superiority"(Perkins 1564).

All three illustrate the conflict between the id and the ego. The difference between Bartleby and the others is that he has ceased trying to hold up under the pressure of reality: he refuses to check copy, to copy, to move, to talk and finally to eat. Perry suggests that Bartleby is "aware of the sterility of life on Wall Street," but unlike the lawyer, Turkey and Nippers, he "refuses to invent or engage in a false rhetoric to protect and maintain his ego"(415).

Like Melville (or, perhaps, like Melville would have liked to be), Bartleby lived by his own uncompromising rules. Socially, this unacceptable behavior caused him to be labeled as unreasonable, strange, a lunatic. But, in truth, he was doing what everyone else wished they could be doing. This unrecognized desire to be like the scrivener is clearly illustrated by his employer and co-workers beginning to assume his particular vocabulary, slipping his "prefer" into their dialogue with one another. Bartleby is simply an extension of the other characters; he is a reverse of the socialization process mentioned earlier.

And why shouldn't he be so? One has to admit, there's a certain desire in us all to let our id dance around naked and free, to fold our arms over our chest and say "no" to the boss every once in a while-or to our spouse, our family, people on the street. No, you can't cut into my lane. No, you can't check out ahead of me even though you've only got the one can of beans. No, you can't change the channel, or ask me to pick the children up from practice.

How easy to give up. How easy to let the responsibilities rest with another. We already know what rewards the other men have received for their admirable and semi-socially acceptable behavior. Neurosis, alcoholism, ulcers, and envy. All things considered, it seems that Bartleby is the most sound of them all.

Perkins, Barbara, and George Perkins, ed. The American Tradition in Literature. Boston:McGraw-Hill College, 1999.

Perry, Dennis R. "'Ah, humanity': Compulsion Neurosis in Melville's 'Bartleby'". Studies in Short Fiction 24.4 (1987): 407-415.