Bartleby, The Scrivener - A Story of 
Wall-Street 
 
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Title: Bartleby, The Scrivener A Story of Wall-Street 
Author: Herman Melville 
Release Date: February 23, 2004 [EBook #11231] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ASCII 
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SCRIVENER *** 
 
Produced by Steve J. Nelson and Clara T. Nelson 
 
BARTLEBY, THE SCRIVENER. 
A STORY OF WALL-STREET. 
I am a rather elderly man. The nature of my avocations for the 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-copyists or scriveners. I have known very many of them, 
professionally and privately, and if I pleased, could relate divers histories, at which 
good-natured gentlemen might smile, and sentimental souls might weep. But I waive the 
biographies of all other scriveners for a few passages in the life of Bartleby, who was a 
scrivener of the strangest I ever saw or heard of. While of other law-copyists I might 
write the complete life, of Bartleby nothing of that sort can be done. I believe that no 
materials exist for a full and satisfactory biography of this man. It is an irreparable loss to 
literature. Bartleby was one of those beings of whom nothing is ascertainable, except 
from the original sources, and in his case those are very small. What my own astonished 
eyes saw of Bartleby, that is all I know of him, except, indeed, one vague report which 
will appear in the sequel. 
Ere introducing the scrivener, as he first appeared to me, it is fit I make some mention of 
myself, my _employees_, my business, my chambers, and general surroundings; because
some such description is indispensable to an adequate understanding of the chief 
character about to be presented. 
Imprimis: I am a man who, from his youth upwards, has been filled with a profound 
conviction that the easiest way of life is the best. Hence, though I belong to a profession 
proverbially energetic and nervous, even to turbulence, at times, yet nothing of that sort 
have I ever suffered to invade my peace. I am one of those unambitious lawyers who 
never addresses a jury, or in any way draws down public applause; but in the cool 
tranquility 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 John 
Jacob Astor, a personage little given to poetic enthusiasm, had no hesitation in 
pronouncing my first grand point to be prudence; my next, method. I do not speak it in 
vanity, but simply record the fact, that I was not unemployed in my profession by the late 
John Jacob Astor; a name which, I admit, I love to repeat, 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 John Jacob Astor's good opinion. 
Some time prior to the period at which this little history begins, my avocations had been 
largely increased. The good old office, now extinct in the State of New York, of a Master 
in Chancery, had been conferred upon me. It was not a very arduous office, but very 
pleasantly remunerative. I seldom lose my temper; much more seldom indulge in 
dangerous indignation at wrongs and outrages; but I must be permitted to be rash here 
and declare, that I consider the sudden and violent abrogation of the office of Master in 
Chancery, by the new Constitution, as a--premature act; inasmuch as I had counted upon 
a life-lease of the profits, whereas I only received those of a few short years. But this is 
by the way. 
My chambers were up stairs at No.--Wall-street. At one end they looked upon the white 
wall of the interior of a spacious sky-light shaft, penetrating the building from top to 
bottom. This view might have been considered rather tame than otherwise, deficient in 
what landscape painters call "life." But 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 
required no spy-glass to bring out its lurking beauties, but for the benefit of all 
near-sighted    
    
		
	
	
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